It was early morning in the Tower, and most of the team had already gathered in the training room. The air was filled with the sound of punching bags, running feet, and low conversation—just another day.

Steve was pounding into one of the heavy bags with practiced precision. Nat and Tony were side by side on treadmills, keeping pace like it was a casual stroll rather than a sprint. You and James were across the room, stretching out and getting ready to spar in the ring.

It was a typical start to the day… until your mind wandered, as it often did, to something completely unrelated to punching people in the face.

And as usual, you said the first thing that came to mind—without thinking, without filter. It had become a bit of a tradition by now. The team had learned to expect these random bursts of curiosity from you. They didn’t mind—if anything, it kept things entertaining.

You looked up from wrapping your hands, gaze drifting across the room.

“When you eat tacos,” you said casually, “do you tilt your head to the left or the right?”

The room stilled for half a beat.

Steve glanced over at you, mid-punch, and blinked like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. Nat didn’t break stride on the treadmill, but her smirk grew. Tony actually slowed down, giving you a seriously? look. You, unfazed, just shrugged and looked around for answers like you’d asked something completely logical.

Then everyone noticed the look on James face.

A slow, mischievous grin was forming—one that was never a good sign.

“Oh no,” Steve muttered, shaking his head. “James, don’t.”

“James, so help me—” Tony warned, already bracing himself.

You raised an eyebrow, watching James with growing suspicion.

Then he looked right at you.

“Neither,” he said smoothly, not missing a beat. “The thigh$ usually keep my head firmly in place.”

The room erupted.

Steve groaned audibly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Tony let out a strangled laugh. Nat chuckled under her breath, clearly amused. You just stared at James , blinking once, then twice, your cheeks slowly starting to flush.

You hadn’t expected that.

“Really?” you said, crossing your arms, trying to keep a straight face. “That’s your answer?”

James shrugged, entirely too pleased with himself. “You asked.”

“Right,” you muttered, face still warm as you tried not to smile.

“Well,” Nat said, hopping off the treadmill, “I think that wins the award for strangest breakfast conversation.”

“Agreed,” Tony added. “And now I can never eat tacos again without thinking about James’… enthusiastic dining posture.”

“Good,” James replied, throwing you a wink. “Mission accomplished.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips.