You don’t know what’s worse. The gunfire or the flirting. Well. “Flirting” might be generous.

Technically, the mission was simple. Infiltrate a warehouse, secure the intel, extract. But nothing was simple when you were teamed up with Bucky and Sam. Nothing.

You duck behind a crate, pressing your back to the splintered wood as Bucky and Sam storm past you in perfect sync. Sam’s wings slice through the air like they were made for this. Bucky’s movements are brutal.

And the whole time? They’re bickering. Loudly.

“You always take the loud way in.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were supposed to knock politely on the arms dealer’s door.”

You peek over the crate. One of the guards is slumped, groaning. Another makes the mistake of getting up, and promptly gets kicked into a wall by Bucky.

Sam whistles. “Damn, Barnes. Getting fancy.”

Bucky gives him a smug look, brushing dust off his sleeve. “Jealous?”

“Okay. I can’t take this,” you said.

They both turn, half-shocked. “What?”

You gesture between them. “You two. This whole thing. I’m third-wheeling a buddy cop romance and we’re in the middle of a gunfight.”

Bucky blinks. “We’re not—”

“You kind of are,” you mutter, ducking again as bullets ping off metal.

Sam is grinning, of course. “You’re just mad you didn’t get invited to the honeymoon phase.”

“I didn’t want to be invited!”

Bucky huffs, looking vaguely offended. “We’re professionals.”

“Right,” you say dryly. “Professionals who make eyes at each other mid-mission.”

Sam claps a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “They’re just jealous of our connection.”

Bucky swats his hand off. “I will push you off a roof.”

“Oh no,” Sam deadpans. “Don’t hurt me with your feelings.”

You exhale slowly and reload your weapon. “After this is over, I’m requesting a solo op. One where no one is pining.”

They start arguing again, something about who had the better plan, but at least now they’re moving.