Oh, he can have as many minutes as he wants. Rogers is not letting go until Winter moves or protests. For now, he's breathing hard, too - not hyperventilating, but still. Emotional. Relieved, in that adrenaline-crash sort of way that hits you when the later you keep pushing most of your worry onto finally arrives.

So he keeps himself wrapped around Winter, and maybe breathes in his (slightly ripe; he doesn't care) scent, and just mumbles a quiet little, "You're out," or "It's me," or "I've got you," when it seems like it's been too long since the last one.

Frankly, he doesn't care what it looks like to any passersby. He isn't really paying attention to anything else, all of his energy and emotion focused on Winter.