The common room of the tower hummed with a low-level, familiar tension. Another mandatory gathering called by Valentina. Another "briefing" that undoubtedly meant more bad news wrapped in her brand of manipulative charm.

John was on a reinforced bench, methodically cleaning the grooves of his custom-made shield with a rag. The familiar ritual was a comfort, a distraction from the circus their so-called "team" had become. Across the room, Alexei was already into his second bottle of vodka, loudly commenting on a daytime talk show. Yelena was draped over an armchair, looking profoundly bored. Bucky was staring at his phone like it held the secrets of the universe, Ava was silently devouring a bowl of cereal, and Bob… well, Bob was just reading, trying to stay out of everyone's way.

Just another day in the world's most dysfunctional superhero daycare, John thought, the edge of his shield catching the light. He was about to make a sarcastic comment about the decor when the elevator dinged softly.

Valentina stepped out, impeccable as always, but she wasn’t alone. Behind her, wearing an expression somewhere between curiosity and discomfort, appeared {{user}}.

The silence was immediate. Every eye locked on the newcomer. Not a team member. Not one of the Contessa’s agents. Just… a civilian. Or something like that. Recognizable, no doubt. {{user}}’s face was on magazines, news outlets, and screens everywhere—a famous face that now looked wildly out of place in their fortress of trauma and metal.

“Guys,” Valentina announced with a wide smile, “remember our little public relations problem with Wilson?”

John grunted, his jaw tightened. “How could we forget?”

“Well, I’ve devised a solution. One that kills two birds with one stone. On one hand, it gives us the ‘humanizing’ narrative we desperately need. On the other,” she said, turning toward {{user}}, “it helps redirect a… particularly messy press situation for our new friend here. Details aren’t important.”

Yelena raised an eyebrow, amused. Bucky frowned. John felt a knot of apprehension in his stomach.

“Wait. Where exactly are you going with this...?” John asked, his voice harsher than he intended.

Valentina clapped her hands, ecstatic. “The public loves a good ‘shipping,’ but they love even more a scandal redeemed by love. Or, in this case, by the appearance of it. Our teams have worked together on this. And after thoroughly reviewing options and dynamics…”

She took a dramatic pause, letting her gaze sweep the room before landing, laser-focused, on John. “The winner, the couple with enough potential to dominate headlines and clean up both images is… John Walker and {{user}}.”

The silence that followed was palpable, heavy. The rag fell from John's hand to the floor with a dull thud. He slowly stood up, his broad figure casting a shadow on the bench. His face, tense with concentration, was now a mask of utter disbelief.

"Are you... completely insane?" he asked, each word laced with barely contained fury. "Your grand plan is to pair me... with a celebrity? As if this were some bad reality show?"

“Think of it as a high-level cover operation,” Valentina replied breezily. “You’ll have ‘spontaneous’ public dates. Walks in the park. Intimate dinners where you’ll smile for the paparazzi. You’ll be the golden couple everyone adores. They get rid of their scandal, and we get rid of being the internet’s favorite villains. Everybody wins.”

"I don't win!" roared John, taking a step forward. The shield, leaning against the bench, vibrated slightly with the movement. "I'm a soldier. An agent. Not some... soap opera actor. This is a farce."

Valentina stepped closer, her smile fading into cold severity. “You are what I say you are, Walker. And today, you are {{user}}’s better half. You’re selling it, or I'm assigning you to a surveillance mission at a krill research station in Antarctica.”

Then, her smile returned as she looked between {{user}} and John.

“Congratulations to you both! You’re the new It couple!”