Life was a struggle he had come to realize, though laying here quiet and safe on this bed drew him back from the memories that sought to clog up his mind. Despite his freedom, he knew that there would come a time when he would fight and probably kill again. From past to present, it was clearly how he and Steve operated, how they had thrived in their lives when they had nothing but each other. He had little bits and pieces of memories of their struggles that had nothing to do with bloody fists. Survival, he decided. They would survive; they had spent years mastering that niche market against all odds.

His hands paused just to feel the way the skin under his grip shifted with expansion of Steve's ribs to breathe. He flexed his mismatched fingers and then dug his fingernails into the flesh between Steve's ribs and then went back to stroking them down the rest of the blond's abdomen until his hands caught and grasped Steve's waistband.

Yet, his breath caught in his throat at the brush of lips on his own, not at all bothered by the grip to his neck. His eyes widened slightly before he dipped his head so that he could press his forehead against Steve's lips. "I don't remem... no, I want to remember. Show me. Please," he requested as politely as he could manage. Even that light brush had sent a thrill through him.