The lecture hall was buzzing with the low hum of restless students, the scraping of chairs, and the shuffling of notebooks. Fluorescent lights flickered above, casting pale shadows across rows of desks.

At the very back, Steve Rogers slouched in his chair, pretending to listen as the professor droned on about economic theories. His pen tapped against the edge of his notebook, the rhythm betraying his impatience.

To his left sat {{user}}, her posture far better than his, her notebook filled with neat lines of handwriting that Steve could never hope to match. Her head tilted slightly as she focused on the lecture, her hair falling forward like a curtain. Steve smirked faintly. She was always the model student, always paying attention. He, on the other hand, had other plans.

Without much thought, he tore a corner from his notebook and scrawled a quick line in his slanted handwriting:

You’re the only reason I stayed awake through this.

He folded the paper twice, aimed carefully, and flicked it toward her desk. It landed perfectly beside her elbow. {{user}} didn’t look up at first, but Steve saw her lips twitch in amusement before she quietly unfolded it under the desk. Her pen hovered for a moment before she scribbled something back.

A minute later, the note returned to him, slipping onto his desk like a secret treasure.

Maybe if you actually listened, you wouldn’t need me to keep you awake.

Steve chuckled under his breath, earning a side-eye from the guy sitting in front of him. He ignored it, pen already scratching across the paper.

I don’t need the lecture. I need you.

He tossed it back. This time, {{user}} took longer to respond, her hand pausing mid-sentence as if weighing what to write. Steve leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on her profile, waiting. When she finally folded it and flicked it back, the note slid almost dramatically onto his notebook.

Smooth. But coffee’s on you if you survive this class.

Steve grinned so wide he had to pretend to cough to hide it. Coffee with {{user}} wasn’t just coffee—it was a quiet victory in a battlefield where stolen moments mattered more than anything else. He wrote one last line and sent it over.

Deal. I’ll even get you a muffin if you promise not to ditch me after.

The professor’s voice rose slightly, snapping the room back to attention. Steve quickly tucked the folded note into his notebook as if it were contraband. The rest of the lecture dragged on, but his thoughts weren’t on economic theories anymore. They were on {{user}}—on the way she pretended not to smile when she caught him watching her, on the fact that she’d said yes without saying yes.

When the class finally ended, Steve stuffed his books into his bag with unusual haste. He fell into step beside {{user}} as they left the lecture hall, students flooding the hallway around them.

“Coffee?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes bright with something far less casual.