Inside the hidden Strategic Scientific Reserve base, Steve moved briskly through the sterile, echoing halls, the hum of fluorescent lights overhead mixing with the soft buzz of distant machinery. His gaze swept over the familiar layout until it landed on a desk tucked into a corner, where a woman was flipping casually through a newspaper—{{user}}.

He cleared his throat. “Excuse me? I’m looking for Mr. Stark?”

Without looking up from the paper, she replied smoothly, “He’s in with Colonel Phillips.”

Steve paused. {{user}} finally lifted her gaze, one brow arched, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re welcome to wait,” she said, voice lightly amused. Steve nodded, his stiff posture softening slightly as he returned the smirk with a shy smile, easing himself onto the edge of a nearby desk.

She lifted the newspaper again, the headline catching his attention.

400 Prisoners Liberated.

Her eyes met his. “I read about what you did,” she said, standing and setting the paper down deliberately. “You saved 400 men.” Steve’s eyes dropped to the headline, and a faint, sheepish smile crept across his face.

“Oh, that? Not a big deal,” he muttered, running a hand nervously through his hair. “Just… doing what had to be done.”

The smirk on her lips softened, just slightly, as she stepped closer, the air between them thickening. “Yeah? Tell that to their wives,” she murmured, her voice low, almost intimate. “You’re a hero.”

Steve blinked, cheeks heating rapidly. “W-well, that depends on the defini—” His words stumbled out before catching as {{user}} reached forward, her fingers brushing against his tie. The touch was gentle, deliberate, and for a moment, he froze.

“They owe you their thanks, Rogers,” she whispered, her gaze dipping to his lips. “And… since they’re not here…”