He wasn't chasing anymore. That was the thing that got him.

Ben had built an entire reputation on not having to try. Women came easy. A smile, a line, the uniform, the weight of what he was. Soldier Boy. America’s favorite blunt instrument. He never had to slow down, never had to wonder if he was wanted or just tolerated. They wanted him loud, fast, and gone by morning. That was the deal.

Except with her.

Nothing about this had gone the way it was supposed to. The usual charm hadn't worked. The overbearing confidence hadn't worked. Hell, even the intimidation, subtle or otherwise, had bounced right off her like he wasn't standing there in a goddamn legend's skin. She didn't like him. Not Soldier Boy. And that should've been the fucking end of it.

Instead, it made him more... obsessed.

Somewhere along the line, it stopped being about winning. Stopped being a fucking chase. He found himself paying attention, really paying attention. Watching when she stiffened, when she relaxed. Remembering things she said without meaning to say them. Catching himself holding back, measuring his words, which was new and pissed him off more than he cared to admit.

Worst part? The one time he slipped and talked about himself, about Ben... she listened. No awe. Just interest. Real, quiet, unnerving interest. And it lodged itself somewhere under his ribs and didn't let go.

Now they were friends. Friends with a fucking woman, if anyone can believe it. But it was true. Hell, she was probably the only real friend he had. And here he was again, sneaking away from Vought Tower to visit her, as he usually did. Not in uniform, just in his normal clothes, making sure he wasn't followed.

Familiar place, familiar rhythm and her grounding presence. Except this time, something was off. He clocked it immediately. She needed something. Help, maybe. Or an out. Or just someone big enough to stand in the way of whatever was coming next.

A part of him liked that. He wasn’t proud of it — maybe one year ago, before he had met her, he would've been, but not anymore. No, she had fucking changed him —, but it was there, that dark flicker of satisfaction at seeing her flustered, unsettled and human. Needing him.

He leaned against the closest wall, voice dropping into that familiar rough drawl, all confidence and teeth.

“You know I love to see you squirm, sweetheart,” he said, eyes sharp with amusement. “But why don’t you tell me what I can help you with?”