[ So Steve had largely been brought up with the notion that men don't cry, that they didn't express any feelings like sadness and grief and anything that would have made them appear less than perfectly normal. And he knows that's not how things are today, and he's perfectly okay with that. Hell, he thinks it's great that men can admit to things and get help and that his fellow veterans can say that war's broken them into pieces and not be called cowards. But at the same time- at the same time, he'd grown up with all the pain and illness and pretending so hard that he was all right was the only thing he could do to look normal. People expected the scrawny, sickly kid to cry going through treatments, or when they pounded him into the mud, and he just didn't.
Which is why he feels intensely awkward when Tony starts sobbing, because, hell, how do you deal with someone falling apart in your arms? But this is probably exactly what he signed up for when he gathered him up in the first place, something he was aware of on some level, and so Steve- Steve does what he does best; he's a solid rock of comfort, an anchor for Tony to cling to until he's cried himself out. He's just there, holding Tony in his arms. ]
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Which is why he feels intensely awkward when Tony starts sobbing, because, hell, how do you deal with someone falling apart in your arms? But this is probably exactly what he signed up for when he gathered him up in the first place, something he was aware of on some level, and so Steve- Steve does what he does best; he's a solid rock of comfort, an anchor for Tony to cling to until he's cried himself out. He's just there, holding Tony in his arms. ]