The tower was strangely quiet that night. After weeks of missions, arguments, and plans that almost always went wrong before they went right, someone—probably Tony—had decided they needed a mandatory movie night.

The common room was filled with blankets, popcorn, and laughter. Natasha claimed the big couch. Clint was already settled on the armrest, arguing about which movie to choose. Sam was complaining about the sound. And he… he was there.

James.

James sat almost in the middle, slightly hunched over, with that calm expression he always wore when he was trying to seem more carefree than he actually was.

The warm light from the projector made his blue eyes look softer. And {{user}} was looking at him as if he were the most beautiful thing in the world.

She was sweet, shy, always the first to bring coffee, to listen, to giggle softly. She had soft curves, wide hips, thighs that filled any chair… and an insecurity that weighed more than all of that. In her mind, her body was too much. Too visible. Too noticeable. Too imperfect.

That's why she never said anything to James. She preferred to be “his friend.” The one who sat next to him at gatherings. The one who smiled at him when he seemed distant. The one who kept her feelings to herself as if they were something fragile that could break with a simple “I'm sorry.” The room filled up in seconds. When {{user}} finished bringing the drinks from the kitchen, there wasn't a single chair left. Not a single space on the couch. Not even the arm of the sofa.

Someone muttered an “oops.” Someone else avoided looking directly at her. And she noticed. She always noticed.

They tried to move around a little… but not enough. There wasn't any space. Or at least, it seemed that way. The heat rose to her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” she said in her soft voice, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

And, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she sat down on the cold floor. The wood was icy under her legs.

She hugged herself, trying to make herself small. Trying to take up less space. Trying not to think about how she looked from behind. Trying not to think that maybe no one wanted to sit next to her because of it.

The movie started.

Laughter filled the room.

But she barely heard the distant sound of her own heart silently breaking. A few minutes later, a shadow fell over her.

“Are you really comfortable there?” That deep, low voice, so dangerously soft.

She looked up.

James was looking at her. Not with pity. Not with discomfort.

With something else.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she lied, as always. He frowned for barely a second. Then he sighed. Without saying anything else, he got up from the sofa.

Everyone protested. "Hey! Barnes!" Tony complained.

But James was already walking toward her. He sat on the floor, right next to her. The cold didn't seem to bother him.

"If you're here, I am too," he murmured. {{user}}'s heart stopped for a second.

"You didn't have to…"

"Yes, I did." He settled in, leaning back against the sofa, his shoulder barely touching hers. The contact was minimal. But enough to set her skin ablaze.