How Far We've Come

Chapter Four

It was over an hour before Steve woke up.

Tony had refused to let the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent separate them, medical protocols be damned, and was sitting on a bench, Steve's head on his lap.

Nat was standing a few feet away, chewing the agent out over the direction their mission took when Steve started to come to.

"Hey," Tony said, carding his fingers through Steve's hair. "You were knocked out by that teenage dweeboid. He took some DNA so your neck might sting a bit. Don't worry, I already bandaged it."

Tony's other hand cupped Steve's jaw when Steve turned his face toward Tony, eyes struggling to open. "Tony?"

"Right here."

Steve's hand was trembling as he struggled to latch it onto Tony's wrist. "I-"

Nat grabbed the agent by the collar and yanked him toward the front of the ship, giving Steve and Tony some space and privacy. Wordlessly, Clint followed.

Tony's heart seized when he realized Steve's eyes were watering. He took Steve in, head to toe, but he couldn't see anything under the suit. No swelling, no blood, nothing. "Oh shit, Steve, am I hurting you? Are you hurt?"

"I-" His voice was little more than a murmur as Tony helped him sit up and pulled him into his arms, fingers massaging the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, I-I-"

"Shut up with that," Tony grumbled. "You almost died. It's okay to need some time to process it."

Steve shivered again. "Are there- are there any spare clothes on this thing?"

Tony's mind raced but he couldn't put the pieces together. Steve's suit wasn't damaged. And while it was tight, Tony had designed it with comfort in mind. "Probably? Is your suit bugging you?"

"I just- I need to change. I can't- I can't be in this right now."

Steve was trembling all over now, his skin clammy under Tony's hands.

"Alright, alright. Come on. Let's find you something to wear."

Tony himself was wearing loungewear but there was no way his itty bitty fitted pants would make it past Steve's calves. He tried not to let it get to his pride.

It wasn't hard to find a pair of government-issued sweatpants and a white t-shirt in the back of the jet. Their missions always involved weapons and fire and dirt. Extra clothes were a must.

Steve was still shaking when Tony got back, his hands tucked beneath his arms. His lips were turning purple, then blue. It wasn't warm on the quinjet, they were flying after all, but there was no way it was cold enough to get past the super serum. Something was off.

As Steve struggled to grip his numb fingertips around the zipper of his suit, Tony began to put pieces together.

Cold. Shaking. Need to get out of the suit. Almost dying from lack of oxygen....

Well, fucking shit.

"Let me help, okay?"

Steve shook his head, his hair hanging in front of his eyes, fingers still unable to get the zipper to budge. "No, no, I've- I've got-"

Steve's breath hitched and he swiped a palm across his eyes with a growl.

Tony's chest went tight and he put his hands over Steve's shoulders. "Hey, hey. Let me help, alright? You know I love nothing more than getting you out of your clothes. It'd be my pleasure."

Steve chuckled like Tony had hoped he would before palming his eyes again.

Getting Steve out of the suit turned out to be more of a challenge than Tony expected. It was skintight and with Steve trembling beneath his hands, Tony struggled to get the material down his hips and off his thighs.