“No,” Sharon said immediately, pushing a dramatic frown to her face as she shook her head. “I think that’s the exact opposite of teamwork, actually. And leadership. I mean — aren’t you supposed to be taking bullets for me? Shielding me from the danger? Not dragging me down with you?” Though, in all fairness, she had landed him in the hospital. It was only fair she suffered a little. No matter how (lightly) she protested against it. “I can imagine it. Mom and dad had a dog, Bullet, very original name, I know. But he’d wake up before any of us. Scrape at the doors and I made the mistake of leaving mine open one night and he snuck and licked me awake — then barked when I told him to get out of my room.” She grinned at him. The strain on her expression was fading with ease. Funny how he had that effect on her. “Might end up in your shampoo too, depending on how badly you piss me off.”
She didn’t push him to keep talking — to open that door that he seemed determined to keep shut, but she nudged him once more, teasing him one last time before dropping it: “Funny when you look so uncomfortable when I look.” Sharon knew why of course, it was just like with her. She had this great desire to be known by someone else, but when someone started looking at the details of her life, when someone started trying? Fight or flight seemed to kick in, and Sharon was expertly trained in both. And Steve had been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of both as well. “Smooth transition, Soldier. Spice into touch?” She looked at him, mischief in her eyes, as if he had just presented a challenge. This wasn’t the time or the place, but Steve needed to stop opening doors like this. “If you want something, Steve, use your words.”
Teasing turned into flattery and Sharon brought her hand up, twirling her hand in her hair as if this was a prequel to something else. “You wanted me on side? You asked for Agent 13 on your missions?” There was a brief look of surprise that was quickly replaced with amusement. Natasha would have known — she had to. And she said nothing to either of them. “What did he say about why I wouldn’t join you? Too busy? Mission below my skill level? I said it sounded boring? How annoying did he make me?” Being on his team and being able to be Sharon would have been a better mark during that time. But Steve hadn’t been known to trust anyone in SHIELD. Even the most skilled agents. (And he had trusted Kate.) “So you’ve hinted at a few times,” she teased back. This was easy, strangely enough. There was no weight — mostly because neither of them had stepped forward to define this as anything at all. It was just a thing. (A thing that Sharon, if pressed, would argue was purely physical. As if each gentle touch of his hand didn’t leave her wanting for closeness again.)
He said that he wasn’t alone anymore. Turning their hands over like this was what he cherished. Like she was breathing life into this decade for him. But as she watched the motion, another thought slapped her in the back of her mind. He shouldn’t be putting this much emphasis on her, on them, on anyone human. They’d all leave him. And he’d be alone, again. Sharon didn’t act on the sick feeling in her gut, didn’t let it fade the smile on her face or stop her from playfully gripping his wrist. “It’s not worth the risk currently,” Sharon argued. “Circumstances change. The only thing that is certain is that nothing is given.” She stood up from the chair and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “But you’re right. You’re not alone.” Not now. (Not yet.) “Might not be a super soldier myself, but I do know all the sensitive spots.”
“I don’t think I exactly fulfil the role of leader, here,” Steve said, a teasing lilt to his voice as he looked at her. He didn’t usually give up his hold on the reins so easily. Tony said it was a control thing. Bucky said there was no one better for the job. He had the distinct impression Sharon would be somewhere in between on that one. “On the culinary playing field, you’re firmly in control.” It went without saying, of course – or at least he hoped it did – that when there was a real fight, when they were watching each other’s backs, all of that would be true. His partners, his teammates, had always been his priority; Sharon fit into the category of most important with even more surprising ease than anyone who had gone before her. (She’d hate that, more than likely.) “He loved you,” Steve said, a grin developing on his face. “You offended him. How would you feel if you went into someone, took all the effort to get up to greet them, and they told you to get out? I’m on Bullet’s side here.”
Was uncomfortable the right term to use in this situation? Sharon said it, so it must’ve been something pretty damn close to the truth. He’d never met someone more perceptive, someone who seemed to pull apart his (albeit predictable) reactions like cotton candy. It certainly challenged him, deviated from the normal he’d grown somewhat used to, but uncomfortable would indicate he wanted it to be over, never to repeat. “Maybe,” he allowed, tentatively, “but I don’t want you to stop.” Another confession, perhaps, but the truth was the only thing Steve found that allowed him to breathe a little, no matter how difficult it was to get out. “I meant–” Steve started, the top of his ears threatening to melt with the blush that rose on them. “Not that. I mean, it could be that. I meant, you know, we…” He waved his hand vaguely, but she wasn’t going to give him the luxury of filling in the gaps. “I like touching you in other ways, too, I mean. But you, uh … You thought it was smooth?”
Fumbling on the final hurdle was something Bucky could’ve predicted, so Steve just counted his blessings that his brother would never have to hear about this. “I asked for you a lot,” Steve said, a smile on his face as he lifted his hand to catch hers twisted in her hair. “Something close to boring, if I was going to narrow it down. He said you had your orders, and I had mine. Never the two to intersect. Argued that a team made up of two valuable assets was too much of a risk.” Better to bank on him and Nat being taken out together instead, since after New York they’d refused to work for long without keeping each other in the loop. He shrugged his shoulder, slightly, smile only growing at her gentle teasing (how many people did she speak like this with? Was it entitled to think that this early on, he might be an exception to the rule, someone who let her relax? He hoped so). “I’m not the best at flirting,” he said, as if it would be news to her, “but I’m learning from the best, so.”
Currently. She said it like his decision on the matter might be altered in the future by details as of yet undisclosed, and during the war, he would’ve scoffed at the idea. He made choices in the heat of battle and those were the choices that stuck, for better or for worse. There was no going back, even as the world did change. But Sharon was used to a different world, a world where things altered and people moved to meet them. “They haven’t changed much in seventy years, from where I’m standing,” Steve countered. People would always desire more power, but there would always be others there to prevent them from misusing it … or at least that was the hope. Sharon stood up, and Steve’s attention went easily from the conversation at hand to following her with his gaze, leaning his forehead into her kiss. “You might make hospital visits semi bearable,” he said, aiming for a joke but, as always, she’d hit something soft, “but you know you still need to make this up to me. A lot.”
