"What the-?" there was a loud bang, "What are you doing?"
Hill stopped in the hall, glancing sideways from her tablet at the door the ruckus was coming from behind. Part of her didn't want to know. Whatever it was, it was probably Stark's fault, and she'd spare herself a headache if she just kept walking. Fury was expecting her anyway. She sighed, looked down at her tablet, and took a couple more steps.
"No, no, no," echoed from the door in rapid succession. Hill rolled her eyes. It didn't sound like an escapade, but it never really did. "Ah come on!" the voice said dejectedly. Begrudgingly, she turned around.
Opening the door unapologetically, and holding her breath at what she might see, Hill came across Captain Rogers. She just sort of leaned against the door, still holding her breath, but not consciously. He was standing there – in boxers – water and bubbles all over the floor. The sight was not as pornographic as it seemed, but even Hill was a little light headed at the scene. She was human, after all, and a moment she realized her eyes were fixed on his ass. She jarred herself, and quietly, she tried backing out before he saw her there.
"Agent Hill, ma'am!" he choked as he turned and saw her.
"I'm leaving," she said as calmly as he started frantically looking for something to cover himself with, his bare feet sliding around in the water. It took about three seconds for his spastic movements to kick his legs out from under him, landing him face first on the floor. She hesitated. "Rogers?" she did her best not to look at him, but finding it extremely difficult as each of muscles flexed when he got up – covered in bubbles.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, resorting to a military stance, as if that would delude the awkwardness of the entire situation.
Fuck, you're gorgeous, she thought blatantly.
"What are you doing?" Hill focused on his stern face.
"Laundry, ma'am," he said. She and Rogers glanced towards the machine exploding with bubbles. It was one of Stark's high-grade machines, supposedly smart enough to do everything itself. "The last time I washed clothes, there was two dials and an on button," he explained, relaxing his shoulders a little, making hers tense up.
"Oh," she said slowly. They had been so busy teaching him how to use phones and sleepers, she supposed nobody had bothered teaching him how do his own laundry. Hill took a deep breath and set her tablet on the dryer and let the door swing shut. "I always wash everything on cold," she explained, stopping the washer and telling it to drain itself, "that way nothing shrinks. Lord knows you don't need that. They've already got you vacuum sealed into everything."
"What?" he was studying at her curiously like he couldn't believe she had said that.
She had said that out loud. She stared at him emotionlessly, but with wide eyes, like she was die at his hands in order to keep S.H.I.E.L.D secrets.
"Nothing," Hill muttered, directing his attention to the washer, "Hit 'Manual: Cold.' Small, medium, or large?"
"Two pairs of jeans."
"So, small. Just hit 'S,'" she showed exactly what to do, and then backed off to find that he was standing right behind her the whole time. But he was so amazed by the machine that he didn't even realize how inappropriate that was.
"Thanks," he smiled, looking over her brightly.
Is this kid blushing? She asked herself, noticing the redness across his face.
"You should ice your face, Rogers," she said absently, "It's bruising from that fall."
"Oh," he seemed taken aback, "I will. Thank you, ma'am
"Just doing my job," Hill nodded coldly, grabbing her tablet and ducking out quickly. When she saw that the hall was empty, she allowed her face to flush as bright as it wanted.
She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes before going to Fury.
"Holy shit," she muttered under her breath.
"I don't say this a lot," Romanoff leaned against the lab table, watching a holographic screen of Rogers taking a breath as Hill left, "but that was genius."
Stark smirked maliciously, setting the controls to the laundry room down and getting back to work.