The group is fighting in an abandoned building—dark, echoing, filled with Upside Down fog. A creature bursts through a wall, and in the chaos, Steve gets slashed along his ribs. He tries to play hero, brushing it off with a shaky laugh, but when Aurora sees the blood soaking through his shirt, she freezes. Not scared—focused. Her medic instincts snap in. “Sit. Down. Now.” Aurora’s voice leaves no room for argument. Steve tries to protest. “No, no, we gotta keep moving—” “Steve. Sit.” He does. She rips off his overshirt and sees how deep it is. The others are panicking, but Aurora ignores everyone. She pulls her own shirt off, leaving her in a tight black tank top, and folds the shirt into a makeshift pressure bandage. Steve stares—because of the pain, sure, but also because Aurora is suddenly right there, close, determined, and beautiful in the flickering light. “Aurora, hey—what are you—” “Shut up. You’re losing blood.” She presses her shirt firmly against his ribs. Steve hisses in pain and grabs her arm, fingers digging into her skin. “Easy! Don’t— don’t press so hard—” “I have to, Harrington, unless you want to bleed out.” Their faces are inches apart. He breathes out, shakily. “You’re really good at this,” he says in a low voice. “Like… really good.” Aurora doesn’t look up from her work. “I was a med student. And you’re an idiot.” He laughs, winces, then watches her again—eyes flicking to the curve of her shoulder, the way her hair sticks to her cheek, the way she doesn’t flinch even when covered in his blood. “You okay?” she asks, but softer now. “Yeah. Especially with you here.” The world outside is chaos. But around them—just for a moment—it’s only the sound of their breathing. There’s tension. Heat. Fear turning into something else. Someone calls their names from across the room, snapping the moment. Aurora ties the makeshift bandage in place. “You’re not dying on my watch,” she says, helping him stand. Steve grins through the pain. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Not if it means you’re the one patching me up.” As they walk, his hand slips into hers. Not for balance. Not because he needs help. Because he wants to.