There's no clear reason why the soldier chooses you. He just does. The seconds he meets you, that's it. For the next few months, you constantly have a bodyguard with a murderous glare following you.

He becomes beyond protective of you. Nat calls it 'cuteness aggression'. The way he glares at anyone who comes near you, sneers when the Avengers touch you, hisses threats in Russian. It should be scary, but it's oddly... comforting.

He doesn't speak to you for weeks. It shocks you when he does.

One random Tuesday, when you're making yourself (and him, though he rarely accepts it) lunch.

"No."

"No?"

"Wrong. It's wrong. You'll hurt yourself." He grunts, taking the knife from you and showing you the 'correct' way to hold it.

It hits you one day that he's treating you like his handler. Protecting you without question, doing as you say, only allowing himself freedom if you will it. You tell him you aren't his handler and that he has free will, but he all he says is 'I know'.

You learn weeks and weeks in that he's been staying outside your door at night. When insomnia takes you, you stumble out the door. He isn't sleeping though, he's dissociated.

The next morning, you slip him a key to your room, permitting him to sleep on your couch.

"Home." He blurts out one day when you're both relaxing, reading.

"Why I like being around you. You feel like home." He mumbles, eyes cast, clearly too scared to meet your gaze.

But your gaze is full of nothing but adoration as you use your finger to tip his chin, guiding his eyes to yours.

"If that's what you need, I'll happily be your home, James."