Steve Rogers is a capable leader, a kind and cheerful man, a good friend, a strong role model, and a loyal soldier. He's also teetering on the edge of suicide.

After contracting an Asgardian virus, Tony starts forgetting things. And people. And Steve.

Tony shakes his head. “Seriously. All that Twenty Ways to Please Your Man stuff? I mean, a) all the actual women of our acquaintance,” he nods at Natasha, “will tell you that’s it’s sexist bullshit, feeding the male hegemony, denying the importance of female pleasure and seriously, get Pepper even halfway drunk and ask her about this because she has a lecture prepared, I swear to God. Anyway b) sex is not that complicated.”

His best friend keeps cockblocking him, his relationship guru is a computer, and he might be gay. The future is very complicated.

As a child, Tony Stark spent a lot of time thinking about how cool it would be to meet Captain America. When it finally (improbably) happens, it doesn’t go at all like he’d imagined.

He’d pictured fewer insults, for one thing.

On the plus side, marriage is bound to be easier than proposing.

Steve was looking earnest. Which was kind of his default expression but he was looking especially earnest right now. "I've been reading about safe sex," he said, "and all the pamphlets say we need to discuss our previous sexual partners before we do this."

His power's running low, the arc reactor flickering. Cold, rancid sewer water is rushing into the fissure at his torn up shoulder, filling up the gaps, rising along his neck in frigid fingers. He's been like this before.

"Hello Captain, I see you are mostly clothed today! Felicitations!" Thor said, while Steve smiled weakly back.

Oh god, what if Jarvis infected Dummy with, with emotions. Jesus Christ.

The world is big, and empty, and fake, and their feet are tangled together on the bedsheets, and Steve's watching Tony, and Tony's watching the stars.

Steve wakes up in the 21st Century. He doesn't think much of it, and it's dubious about him. He meets a Norse God, joins a superhero team, and feels terribly awkward about the whole momument at Arlington he's rendered obsolete by not being dead. Meanwhile, Tony is trying to make his mark on history by being the man who finally drove Nick Fury over the edge.

A voice - a voice which sounds distinctly like it’s cursing - drifts up from the tiny 'speakers'. Steve puts the phone back to his ear.

"Hello?" he tries again.

"You," the voice on the other end replies, dripping exhaustion and disdain. It sounds vaguely familiar, but he has troubles placing it, filtered as it is by the phone. "You're... you're the one with... shield. The blue… and star one...?"

There is a labored quality to the words, Steve realizes, and whoever is talking is breathing heavily between them.

"Who is this?"