"I haven't heard them in hours," Winter grumbles. "So I hope not."

And at this point, he doesn't even care. He just wants to go home. He shifts his grip on the front of Steve's shirt, then thinks better of it and lets go only long enough to twist his sleeve free of Steve's grip, and swap it for said hand. So now they're holding hands. Flesh one, since the metal has to be for defense if there's trouble.

"We're going to stay close," he says firmly. "And not lose each other."