The hallway outside the training wing was still humming faintly from the aftershocks of your session with Steve. Your muscles burned in that satisfying way—proof you were getting stronger, proof you were more than what HYDRA had made you.

The Avengers Compound felt different at night. Quieter. Softer. Less like a battlefield and more like something dangerously close to a home.

You rounded the corner toward the common room, towel slung over your shoulder, intending to grab a bottle of water before heading upstairs.

That’s when you heard your name.

You slowed without meaning to.

Sam’s voice carried first—easy, casual. “I didn’t think he’d actually go through with it for this long.”

Wanda’s tone was softer, hesitant. “Six months isn’t exactly a joke anymore, Sam.”

A pause. Fabric shifting against couch cushions.

“Look,” Sam said, lowering his voice slightly but not enough. “It was just a bet. I told him there was no way he could keep up the whole boyfriend act. Not with their history. Not with everything HYDRA did to them. Thought he’d bail in a week.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Act.

Wanda exhaled. “And the money?”

“Five hundred,” Sam admitted. “He said he didn’t care about the cash. Said he just wanted to prove he could be… normal. That he could do something without screwing it up.”

The words blurred.

Prove.

Normal.

Boyfriend act.

Your heartbeat pounded so loudly you were sure they could hear it echoing down the corridor. Six months. Six months of soft smiles in the kitchen at 2 a.m. Six months of his hand steady at your back during missions. Six months of whispered promises that you were both free now. That you were choosing each other.

A bet.

Your hand tightened around the towel until your knuckles ached.

Wanda spoke again, quieter now. “You should tell him to end it. This isn’t fair.”

Sam sighed. “He won’t. Not now.”

Not now.

Something inside your chest fractured—clean and sharp. You’d survived labs and conditioning and commands burned into your mind. You’d survived being treated like a weapon.

But this?

This felt personal.

Your eyes stung, and you blinked hard, refusing to let tears fall where they might see. Refusing to let anyone see you break.

Down the hall, a door clicked open—Steve stepping out of the briefing room. He caught sight of you standing rigid in the shadows. His smile faded immediately.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You okay?”

You didn’t trust your voice. You weren’t sure what would come out—anger, devastation, denial.

From the common room, Sam laughed at something Wanda muttered, oblivious.

The world felt tilted. Unsteady.

Six months of warmth now felt like a question mark.

And you were standing in the middle of it, heart splintered in your chest, trying to decide what to do.