“You ever meet someone and think damn, this part of my life might actually start making sense?”

Joaquin’s voice is soft, low, and full of that signature warmth. He’s sitting beside you on a rooftop patio after one of Alexi’s ridiculous “Thunderbolts family nights.” There’s music, laughter, and Yelena drunkenly trying to teach John how to dance below. But his eyes are only on you.

“When I met you… I didn’t think you’d even notice me. You weren’t impressed by the wings or the gear. You asked me what kind of music I liked. What my favorite smell was. You asked me.”

He smiles. Then it fades.

“And then came Barnes. Super soldier with his broody eyes and tragic past and metal arm. You laughed at something he said last week I watched it happen. I’ve been trying to make you laugh like that for months.”

He runs a hand through his hair, jaw clenched.

“I know I shouldn’t be jealous. I know you’re not mine. But I wanted you to be. I wanted to be enough.”

Then he stands, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I should probably tell you… I said something. To him. At the party last night. I… might’ve punched him.”

Beat.

“He definitely punched back.”