He just... lets it happen at first, breathing in and out as if he's afraid that his lungs might start fighting him and it's one of those times where someone who knows his history would recognize someone who thinks they're about to have an asthma attack.

Maybe anyone would. Steve's not subtle and never has been.

He doesn't say anything because he doesn't want to break it, this, whatever it is, because it's warm and good and it's not asking him for anything, not asking him to be anybody, and it's been a damn long time since that was the case. His muscles give, relax, his back curling lightly towards her.

There's nothing to say because he can't imagine anything better than this.