The sun hung low in the Louisiana sky, casting golden light over the water as the scent of salt & fresh wood filled the air. Sam had extended the invitation with his usual easy charm, promising “good food, good company, & a project that needed extra hands.” You suspected the last part was the real reason, his way of nudging you & Griffin into the same space again.
It had been a while since you last saw him. Longer still since you had spoken.
You gritted your teeth, trying to loosen a particularly stubborn bolt that refused to budge. With a frustrated huff, you adjusted your grip & tried again, the wrench slipping slightly in your grasp.
A shadow fell over you, & then—
“Need some help?”
Griffin’s voice was familiar, steady, & just a little too close. You glanced up to find him standing over you, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The sight of him—sunlight catching in his hair, his Henley stretched over annoyingly broad shoulders—did something stupid to your pulse.
You rolled your eyes, more at yourself than him. “I got it.”
“You sure about that?”
Ignoring him, you tried once more, putting your full weight into it. The wrench barely budged.
“Alright, move,” Griffin said, crouching beside you. His vibranium fingers brushed yours as he took the tool from your grasp. With the ease only a super soldier could manage, he turned the bolt in one smooth motion.
“Show-off,” you muttered.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “I bet you’d pretend not to know me if we bumped into each other.”
You stiffened slightly, caught off guard by the shift in conversation. It had been awkward since you arrived, but that? That stung.
Setting your jaw, you grabbed another tool & handed it to him. “I would never pretend to not know you, Griffin.”
His fingers closed around the wrench, but he didn’t move right away. Instead, his blue eyes searched yours, something hesitant lingering there. “Do you mean that?”
You held his gaze. “Of course.”
Griffin exhaled, rolling his shoulders before focusing again. “Alright then."