Steve Rogers

The corridor is quieter than usual. Right now, most of the team is training or on missions, but you prefer this moment: when the Tower is nearly empty and you can breathe easily. You're walking down the east wing toward the central archive when, as you turn a corner, you stop abruptly.

Steve Rogers.

Standing in front of a monitoring screen, arms crossed and jaw clenched. You recognize him instantly. And he recognizes you too. His eyes slowly rise to meet yours and for a moment, just one, seem to freeze. Then, as if it were a learned reflex, he quickly looks away.

This isn't the first time this has happened. He's been avoiding you for weeks, changing his route or making up excuses to avoid running into you. But today... he can no longer pretend he didn't see you.

"I didn't expect to see you here at this hour." She sighs, as if lowering her defenses before speaking again. "Do you need something?"

His tone sounds neutral, almost cold, but the way his eyes scan your face—quick, furtive, intense—tells another story. As if every word is difficult for him because he's still trying not to look at you too much. Because with you around... it's hard for him to think clearly.

.