[ There hadn't been any time to stop, to breathe. From the moment he cooked breakfast for two wayward fugitives, the countless hours of company from safe house to safe house, up until the final battle where he stood sturdy and reliable at his side. Steve will never have the words to thank him, and he'd never had the time. So if all of this is some wild fever dream, some manipulation of space-time-whatevers, he'll take this moment for himself. Just this one. This once. ]

Looks like I don't get a say in it regardless.

[ But the protest is as thin-walled as the barracks themselves and he finds his arms winding around the other man, patting his back as he leans into the hug. It's such a small gesture but he'd been so busy holding steady through the Snap, the funeral, through the aftermath of it all, he hadn't realized that Steve Rogers needed attention, masked instead by the duty of Captain America.

He lets the hug linger a fraction of a second before he draws back, broad palms settling on Sam's shoulders, giving them a soft, fond shake before he drops his hands back at his sides. ]

What are you doing here, Sam?

[ As if he had a choice, as if Steve had a choice. Summoning, as the people call it, or not, Steve isn't convinced there isn't something else going on here. Still, a part of him wonders if his mishap, if flubbing the jump back into time, is the culprit. If he's the reason Sam is here in the first place.

If he didn't get the stones back in time, if they're in limbo as much as he is, if...

Too many ifs. He lets out a slow sigh. He's tired beyond belief but he's careful to keep it out of his expression. ]

Last I checked, Lang only had enough particles for one, round-trip.