You weren’t sure why it was him.

Jonathan Francis Walker, ex Cap, U.S. Agent.

Divorcee, father, hero.

He was hot-headed. He was cocky, and ambitious, and he always got a little awkward when someone made a suggestive joke at him, like he was some middle school boy.

But he was your best friend. Of all the people to be best friends with. You wanted more. You always wanted more. He was a bad person to want more from.

He probably wasn’t looking for a relationship, not after his wife left and took their son, Lemar. But you couldn’t help the way you felt about him.

The two of you had become close quickly after Valentina formed the team. That’s how you knew he didn’t need a significant other, he just needed a friend. You. His friend. You had to remind yourself that he wasn’t yours, no matter how much you wanted him to be.

You were both sat in the lounge of the watchtower, your eyes glued to him as he watched the game. The Bulldog’s versus Ole Miss.

Your computer was forgotten in your lap, some email half-typed and forgotten on the screen as you watched him with a small smile, him ranting about how Mississippi’s players were always ass and Georgia was obviously superior, as if he weren’t biased.