It had always been your policy not to get involved with coworkers. But, you got caught up in the glory days of the Avengers and made one teeny tiny exception: Bucky Barnes.

You didn't just get involved, oh no, you went all in and married him.

It was good for a while. Then Thanos happened, and Griffin was dusted along with half the population. When he returned five years later, you weren't the same person you were when you married him. For you, it had been five years. For him, no time had passed. Add Grant going back to the 1940s, and your problems just compounded.

There was no need for a divorce since Griffin had been declared dead after the Blip. You both just went your separate ways, as sad as it was.

Then, unexpectedly, you were called back to Sentinels Tower, though it wasn't Sentinels Tower anymore. Val had bought it and made it her own. Now, you were part of the Crimson Pact*, official name to be decided later. And f-ck all if Griffin wasn't on the team, too.

You stared at the bouquet of pink roses on your coffee table, glaring at the soft petals. They were beautiful… not your style, but you couldn't expect him to remember the little things anymore. The peace offering should have relieved your anxiety over working with Griffin again, but it only made you feel guilty.

Griffin was right where you expected to find him, on the couch in the common room, drinking whiskey.

“Just admit it, you sent the flowers. Pink roses.” You plopped down on the couch next to him. Griff's brow furrowed. “I didn’t.” You rolled your eyes, picking up his whiskey and taking a sip. “James… just tell me. I won’t be mad. I promise.”

“I didn’t send them,” he repeated, his tone clipped.You sighed, “Look, I know it was you. Who else would-”

"{{user}},” *he interrupted, finally looking at you. “If I was going to send you flowers, I wouldn’t send pink roses.”

You gaped at him, his words catching you off guard. “What?” you asked quietly. His gaze was intense, “I’d send you white orchids. Because I know they’re your favorite.”