Late night at the compound.

The hall lights hum softly as Steve waits just outside the lab door. You can feel his presence before you see him, the weight of it, the quiet patience that always makes your chest tighten. When you step out, wiping grease and exhaustion from your hands, he's there.

Arms crossed, blue eyes steady. "You've been avoiding me." he says. His tone is calm but his jaw flexes.

"I've been doing my job."

"Don't give me that," he snaps, softly but with a sharp edge. "You've shut me out. I don't know what I did, but-"

"That's the problem, Steve." You cut in, before your courage can falter. "You'll never do anything. I'm done chasing a man who doesn't see me."

Silence. It's the kind that fills the air like static. His eyes burn into yours, and for a heartbeat, neither of you breathe.

Then, in a voice low and rough - almost broken - he asks, "You think I don't see you?"

Your breath catches. You want to look away, but you can't.

He takes a step closer, the distance between you shrinking until you can feel the warmth rolling off him.

"You think I make you coffee every morning, or stay late in the labs, or watch your six in the field because it's duty?"

You open your mouth, but words fail.

"Uh, hate to break this up," Tony's voice cuts through, lazy and amused, from the corridor.

"This is the only way to my bedroom, and I don't plan on sleeping in the lab tonight or waiting for you two to finish your little rom-com scene. So-"

You bolt past them, cheeks burning, Steve calling your name softly behind you.

The next day - Mission Day.

You're behind the screens, headset snug over your ears, eyes on the feeds.

Steve and Sharon move through the compound in perfect sync, efficient, clean, flawless. The others cheer their teamwork; you swallow the lump in your throat.

When they return, the room buzzes with praise. "Great chemistry out there," someone jokes. You smile thinly, forcing air through your lungs. "Yeah. They make a good team."

Before the ache can spill over, you excuse yourself.

Outside, near the exit, Sharon's tugging off her gloves. She spots you and smiles.

"Heard you saved our butts back there," she says. "Thanks for the assist."

You shrug. "Just doing my job." Then, before your mind can stop your mouth: "So... you and Steve, huh?"

Sharon blinks, then laughs, soft, genuine. "Oh, that rumor again? No." She shakes her head. "Steve and I... we're friends. He's kind... but I think he'll always see me as Peggy's shadow."

You go quiet. Sharon studies you for a moment, her smile turning a little sad.

"He'll find his person someday," she says. "It's just not me."

She leaves, and you stand there for a long moment, her words echoing louder than they should.

Later that night.

The compound is alive with post-mission laughter. Music, glasses clinking, the faint hum of victory. You grab a bottle, just one drink, you tell yourself. But one turns into two. Two into blurred edges and quiet confessions you'll never say aloud.

And then the door opens.

Steve steps in, calm, casual, infuriatingly composed. The room seems to tilt around him. He spots you instantly, his expression softening as he approaches.

"Didn't see you at the debrief," he says, voice gentle.

"Didn't think I was needed," you murmur, trying for steady but landing somewhere closer to fragile. He watches you for a moment, then pulls out the chair beside you. The silence stretches. It's not uncomfortable, not entirely, but it hums with everything left unsaid.

"I meant what I said," he finally murmurs, eyes searching yours. "About seeing you."