Yeah, Steve doesn't have any idea why they don't just communicate. He just stands there, listening to Tony, and maybe he doesn't complete any of his thoughts but he doesn't have to, because they don't have to start over that far back.
"I'm not your Steve," he reminds Tony, after a long pause, a very tense, long pause. But he comes forward anyway, trepidatiously, reaching out for him, gently at first as if touching a reflection in water and not wanting it to break. "But I know he wouldn't want you thinking the only good you do is on his account. Steve Rogers didn't help you become Iron Man," he says, even though he doesn't know if that was literally the case or not. But to clarify, he says: "You were a hero before the armor. And you're a hero without it."
He continues, and he comes closer still. "I want to talk to you. So does Jan. Hell, pretty sure Peter doesn't really care which universe you come from either. You guys have a Peter, right?" He shakes his head, because it doesn't matter, ultimately. "I can talk to Jon, if you want. I don't know the guy, but I think he's just trying to give you space."
And then, finally, he pulls Tony into a hug, enfolds him in strong arms, and though he may not be the same Steve Rogers, he might as well be when he's this close: he's the same kind of solid, the same kind of constricting. He even smells the same, despite the whole dystopian post-apocalypse thing. "Just because we don't have the same history doesn't mean I'm not the same Steve where it counts. There's just some things missing. Think of it like a hard reboot." No, that's not it. "New operating system. Work with me here, I don't know computers like you do, please tell me this analogy makes sense."
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"I'm not your Steve," he reminds Tony, after a long pause, a very tense, long pause. But he comes forward anyway, trepidatiously, reaching out for him, gently at first as if touching a reflection in water and not wanting it to break. "But I know he wouldn't want you thinking the only good you do is on his account. Steve Rogers didn't help you become Iron Man," he says, even though he doesn't know if that was literally the case or not. But to clarify, he says: "You were a hero before the armor. And you're a hero without it."
He continues, and he comes closer still. "I want to talk to you. So does Jan. Hell, pretty sure Peter doesn't really care which universe you come from either. You guys have a Peter, right?" He shakes his head, because it doesn't matter, ultimately. "I can talk to Jon, if you want. I don't know the guy, but I think he's just trying to give you space."
And then, finally, he pulls Tony into a hug, enfolds him in strong arms, and though he may not be the same Steve Rogers, he might as well be when he's this close: he's the same kind of solid, the same kind of constricting. He even smells the same, despite the whole dystopian post-apocalypse thing. "Just because we don't have the same history doesn't mean I'm not the same Steve where it counts. There's just some things missing. Think of it like a hard reboot." No, that's not it. "New operating system. Work with me here, I don't know computers like you do, please tell me this analogy makes sense."