this is so niche lmfao who is even going to read this. who cares about you've got mail like i care about you've got mail? but anyway. i've changed the plot in obvious ways: letters instead of emails, shield instead of bookstores. and also, the shield in this fic is a slightly more office-like space than it is in the movies/comics. more corporate, less superhero. i split it into chapters because fun. hope all of this makes sense, enjoy!

Prologue

Daily Horoscope:

Aries: You will meet an annoying woman today.

Taurus: You will read her desperate plea for companionship. (Look! This one is her sign. Isn't that nice?)

Gemini: You will decide whether or not to keep reading said desperate plea.

Cancer: She is running out of things to write. She didn't know that this many Zodiac signs existed.

Leo: Insert more witty babbling here.

Virgo: Desperate woman is looking for a pen-pal.

Libra: Desperate woman will settle for anyone, really. She'd really like someone to talk to about politics, books, movies, whatever. Anything you'd like.

Scorpio: If interested and still reading after this pathetic attempt at a clever ad in a newspaper that surely no one reads anymore, please write to Dear Friend, P.O. Box #1375, Washington D.C. Please take pity on me.

Sagittarius: Seriously. I'm bored out of my mind and online chat rooms are a no-go.

Capricorn: There are so many creeps on the internet, have any of you ever tried online dating? At least with this I'd know that someone is a really dedicated pervert, you know? Taking the time out to buy stamps and everything.

Aquarius: Fuck it, I'm out of shit to say. How's that for eloquent?

Pisces: Kudos to you if you've read till the end, honestly. You are a braver soul than I.

Steve actually snorts when he opens the mail from Sam, disguised as spam in case anyone is snooping, along with the weekly letter that his friend has been sending these last few months.

"Just the kind of shit you'd find funny" Sam had written.

Texting was hard where he was, especially being overseas. Phones can always be traced, and messages can't be trusted. At least with this, with Sam's sloppy writing, Steve knows that it's actually him. It gives him some peace of mind, to know that one thing in this hell-hole is actually real, even if it's just a piece of paper that he has to burn after he reads it.

He's stationed in Bavaria, a surprisingly highly Hydra-populated location, he's come to find out, as his work takes him from place to place. Bucky's here, too, but they're not supposed to know each other. It's too suspicious. They stick to two meetings a month, in randomized locations. It gets lonely, pretending to be someone else.

"You should write her," Sam had also written.

Steve sits in the Hydra facility facading as a SHIELD base of operations, and wonders how dangerous it would be, just to answer her. How stupid of him, how selfish, to involve someone he doesn't know in this already outrageous plan. How late he would receive her letters, how late his own responses would be.

He could lie, tell everyone that she's a relative, but he wouldn't want to risk her safety. He's already a target here, pretending to be a clueless soldier among the endless faces that he's supposed to suss out.

And for some reason, despite all of that, he still wants to. Steve wants to write to someone who has no idea who he is, what he's doing. Someone who won't judge him.

He wants to, so he does.

"Let's go out," is becoming Sharon's least favorite phrase in the entire world; right after the way that Mitch barks "AGENT THIRTEEN" at the top of his lungs like he thinks she can't hear him yelling from right inside his office, even though she's been sitting at the same desk in front of it for a year; and only second to Aunt Peggy's signature "You're so grown up".

Surely there has to be some other way to meet people besides getting drunk at a bar and groping for the closest piece of flesh. Sharon just can't accept the fact that men don't exist outside of those disgusting, demeaning social situations. Granted, she has yet to meet a nice guy on the subway or in the library, but it's nice to hope, on occasion. The people that she usually meets in places that she'd like to meet a nice guy are usually the last people that she'd want to talk to, if you catch her drift.

Sharon lets out a loud sigh, glancing from Natasha's text in the group chat to the time printed in tiny letters at the top of her phone's screen, and then a groan when she calculates that she still has four hours of work left. What she really wants to do is get to the post office before it closes, but if Mitch is going to insist that she create her own weight in paperwork before she leaves for the night, that window of opportunity will soon be closed.

Four years of working her ass off for this shitty agency and this is all she has going for her. Sharon looks up at Natasha, who's furiously typing away on her cell, completely ignoring Mitch in favor of responding angrily to Sharon's "I'm not feeling well" text.

Which was… not entirely a lie. Every time it's a "letter day", as Sharon's dubbed it in her head, her stomach gets all twisty and she feels like she can't breathe until she's at home, in bed, carefully opening the letter (or two, depending on how late they're sent — but those are only special days) from Dear Friend.

In her head, she'd like to think that Dear Friend is named something mysterious and hot, like James or Edward, but she knows that that might not be the case. Sharon doesn't really care though. It's less annoying than Nat calling him Mr. Darcy, which is awful and cliche but also something that Sharon had referred to him herself, once, and is now horribly embarrassed by.

"AGENT THIRTEEN!" And there is Mitch once again, the bane of her existence, yet another thing to add to her list of "Reasons Why I'm Single", also including but not limited to: her obsession with World War II novels, her weird double-jointed thumb, and the fact that she still lives with her aunt.

Said aunt being the reason why Sharon stays with SHIELD at all. Despite its obvious corruption and the downturn it has taken in the past few years that Sharon's been working for the organization, it's still the place that her Aunt Peggy founded. There are still good people working there, like Nat and Hope and even Clint, always goofing off in the corner. Sharon, despite all of her aversions to authority and problems respecting it, still believes in what SHIELD can do; what it was founded for.

And she still wants to do some good in the world.

Which is why she turns around in her chair, sliding her cell into the pocket she had sneakily sewn into her skirt, and gives Mitch a polite smile. "Yes?" Mitch makes no effort to return said smile. The promotion, Sharon tells herself. Do it for the promotion. She's so so close to finally making her way up in SHIELD, getting that level 10 clearance that she's always wanted. And now that Coulson is gone, on to bigger and better things, the position is wide open. She could be Mitch's boss, instead of suffering his arrogance day after day.

Sharon leans back in her chair more, searching for a glimpse of Director Fury behind Mitch's closed door and lowered blinds.

"My office," he spits around a mouthful of of jelly donut. "Now," he emphasizes, as if Sharon wouldn't have understood otherwise, even though he'd gestured quite clearly. Nat throws her a sympathetic look as Sharon makes her way over, and Hope gives her an encouraging thumbs up. Bobbi's out on a case, or she would've stuck her tongue out, equally encouraging.

Mitch is pulling down the blinds to his office when Sharon walks in, and is consequently greeted with two new faces. Well, not entirely new. Sharon's known Nick Fury since she's been a little girl. He's helped her out with Aunt Peggy more times than she can remember, and she's always been eternally grateful for his protection and kindness.

Maybe his presence here is a good sign, and he's here to kick Mitch on his ass and put Sharon in charge. He's sitting in Mitch's chair behind the desk, and Sharon's ready for this, she knows she is.

The other face in the room, however, isn't as encouraging. Sharon has never seen this guy before. He's either a trainee or someone who's just graduated from the Academy. Albeit, he does look a little too old to be a new graduate. And he's… attractive. Too good looking, even, with his hard jaw and unbelievably clear blue eyes, dressed in a suit that Clint would never be caught dead wearing, meaning simply that it fits him correctly.

"Sit down, Thirteen," Mitch says, leaning against the file cabinet to the left of Fury and motioning to the chair in front of the desk. Blonde suit guy is stationed awkwardly at Fury's other side, not as comfortable as Mitch looks, but Mitch is the kind of guy that wears pajamas to work when he knows that nothing important is going to happen. He'd make himself comfortable in a dumpster.

Sharon sits. Fury nods. It's deadly silent.

The director clears his throat. "Sharon, I'd like you to meet Captain Steve Rogers. He's come back after spending a long time undercover, exposing Hydra agents and gaining SHIELD irreplaceable intel. He's going to be running the office in place of Mr. Solas from now on. Understood?" Sharon feels her throat closing up. The way Fury had said it was final, like there was no room for argument.

She doesn't know why — deflection, probably; a desperate attempt to get her mind off of the fact that her future just crashed and burned right in front of her eyes — but Sharon's first thought is of Tony. Tony, who only deigns to show up at work maybe three times a week if they're lucky (which, luck might not be the word Mitch would use to describe it, but Sharon definitely would), and yet still somehow has a job. She can't imagine what it'll be like to see Tony interacting with this Captain Rogers guy, but at this point it sure would make her feel better.

Steve Rogers is holding out his hand awkwardly, and all Sharon can do is gape at it, looking back and forth between his outstretched arm and Fury's unreadable face. "Hi," is all she can manage. Steve lowers his arm, chuckling softly to himself, and that makes rage boil up inside of Sharon so fast that she thinks she's going to get whiplash.

"Sir," she says next, as if she can somehow dig her way out of this; convince him that she deserves the job instead. "I just thought, after all the years I've spent here, and—"

"Sorry, Thirteen," Mitch smirks from his corner, "looks like you've just been beat. Again." Sharon's head throbs. Fury glares in Mitch's direction.

"Captain Rogers is perfectly capable of occupying a leadership position in SHIELD," Fury explains her with a small shrug, like, 'what can I do', except that he's the director and Sharon has no idea why he's doing this to her right now, when he could just be giving her a promotion, "and given his track record and the fact that he just busted the largest group of Hydra agents ever hiding in our organization, we trust him. I think you are going to be of great assistance to Mr. Rogers as he settles in here. I'll be back in a week or so to check on your progress." This last bit Fury offers to Steve as he gets up from the desk, motioning for Mitch to follow him.

"Don't let me down, Sharon," is the last thing that Fury says on his way out, giving her arm a small pat in consolation before he exits the room. Sharon, head still spinning, hops out of the seat, smoothing down her skirt in an effort not to look at Captain Steve Rogers, whoever the hell he is. And you know what, now that she thinks about it, he's not even that attractive. She's seen way better.

Steve Rogers awkwardly clears his throat. "So how'd you get the title of Captain?" Sharon asks him. She doesn't really care, but she doesn't know what else to say.

"I, ah, served in the military before I joined SHIELD."

"That's funny," Sharon snaps, unable to control her horrible, awful mouth; the hurt that seems to be pouring off of her in waves. She's going to hate herself for it, later, but right now she hates Captain Steve Rogers more than anything else in the entire world.

"Funny?" he asks, confusion twisting his brow.

"Yeah, funny. That they think a soldier can run one of the largest SHIELD offices in the country with no prior experience. But, you know, why even hire someone with the correct skills and years of training under their belt, right? I'm sure you'll do great."

Sharon leaves him like that, mouth hung slightly open, as she marches out of the office that she rightfully deserves, and back to sit at her shitty desk for the next few hours, stewing in her anger and ignoring every look that her friends send her way.

When Sharon finally gets out of work she's exhausted and angry, it's too late to get to the post office, and she has three voicemails waiting for her, all from her well-meaning, if not slightly nosy, middle-aged neighbor.

Natasha knew that Sharon wasn't really sick, and even though Nat had protested, Sharon insisted. She knew that even if she did go out with her friends, she'd just drag them down, which seemed to be happening more and more lately. Despite her objections, Sharon knew that Natasha understood, and that was all that mattered.

Nat was the only person that knew about Aunt Peggy. She'd found out on her own, of course, after Sharon's excuses for not going out had started to become more and more flimsy. Nat had been extremely supportive, though, and covered for Sharon whenever she couldn't go out, which was pretty much every single night these days. Aunt Peggy's memory loss has started to become more frequent, and increasingly dangerous. There was no way that Sharon was leaving her alone for longer than necessary.

With no letter to look forward to, Sharon's drive home in her aunt's pathetic old car is a slow, agonizing one. She clicks on her voicemail before she starts the drive, letting all of the messages play through.

"Sharon, honey, it's Gayle. Your Aunt came knocking on my door again. Had no idea where she was, poor thing. I tried leading her back to yours, but the door had locked behind her. I'll stay with her until you get home."

Beep. "Sharon, it's Gayle again. I don't want to worry you, but Peggy's had some sort of fit. She was very angry with me, kept calling me Amanda. Just wanted to let you know. See you soon."

Beep. "I made your aunt an early dinner. Thought I'd keep you updated. I hope you had a nice day at work, dear."

Sharon lets out a ragged sigh, running a hand through her hair. She can feel her lip starting to tremble, and wills herself not to cry, just until she can be in the privacy of her own room. She's already starting to regret being rude to Steve, but there's nothing she can do about it now. She'll have to apologize tomorrow morning.

She parks her car in her apartment's dedicated spot, making her slow trek up to the fourth floor, feet aching. When she makes it to the top of the final flight of stairs, she tugs her heels off and holds them in her left hand, purse shrugged over her shoulder, as she goes to knock on Gayle's door.

The woman answers with a warm smile, her eyes wrinkling at the sides. Sharon answers with her own tired one in return. "How is she?" Sharon asks Gayle.

"Much better," Gayle explains, opening the door wider for Sharon to walk through. "I got some food in her and she took a nap, and she spent the afternoon telling me war stories. It was lovely." Gayle lets Sharon make her way into the small living room where Aunt Peggy is sitting, looking through one of Gayle's old photo albums.

"It's her favorite thing to do," Sharon explains with a soft smile, sitting down on the couch next to Aunt Peggy. When her aunt's eyes meet hers, they're lucid, which makes Sharon breathe an involuntary sigh of relief. She didn't think that she could deal with Peggy not knowing who she was tonight. "Hey, Aunt Peggy. Ready to go home?"

"Yes, dear. I hope you haven't been too worried about me."

"I'm always worried about you. You hungry?" Peggy shrugs. Sharon snorts. "Come on. I think we have some cookies."

Sharon makes sure to give Gayle a one-armed thank you hug on the way out of her apartment. There's someone walking up the stairs as Sharon's shutting the door behind her and Peggy, but she's too busy looking through her purse for her keys to really care. That is until she looks up and catches the eye of the person that's just stepped up to the landing.

"Oh, you have got to be shitting me."

"Sharon Carter!" Aunt Peggy chastises from somewhere in the background, half serious and half laughing at the same time. Sharon's frozen in place, keys in one hand and her shoes in the other, narrowing her eyes at Steve fucking Rogers in her apartment building. Holding a box. She shoves her keys at Aunt Peggy, who instantly knows to go inside. What a wonderful woman.

Steve puts the box down and runs a hand over his face. "You live here?" he asks, as if he's the one that's worn out and done with the day. Fuck him.

"Unfortunately," Sharon mutters, crossing her arms over her chest, still holding her stupid shoes. This is the only place that she can afford while she's taking care of Aunt Peggy, especially because SHIELD doesn't pay so well. Sharon had been counting on the promotion to maybe help her get out of this place, find somewhere that has more than one bedroom and the broom closet that they call the spare. They'd had to turn the extra one into bedroom for Sharon, so that Aunt Peggy could have the larger space, but it wasn't much of a room. Her single at the Academy had been bigger.

She doesn't begrudge Aunt Peggy anything, of course. She could never put Peggy in a home, though, not after everything that she's done for Sharon. Her Aunt Peggy practically raised her after her parents died.

"Look," Steve starts. "This doesn't have to be a problem. SHIELD set me up here, and I just got back from being in Germany for god knows how long, and I really just want to sleep. Can we forget this ever happened?"

Sharon narrows her eyes at him. "SHIELD set you up here? You couldn't afford anywhere nicer with your high-paying job?" That you stole from me, she doesn't add.

He shrugs. "I like simple things. I don't really need too much."

"Right." Sharon glares. Takes a deep breath. "Whatever."

She forces her door open and slams it shut as fast as possible, leaning against it and closing her eyes. Aunt Peggy's waiting for her on the couch. She raises an eyebrow at Sharon when Sharon finally opens her eyes and locks the door behind herself.

"So," her aunt prompts, "did you get that promotion?"

That comment, on top of everything else that has gone wrong in the day, causes Sharon to uncharacteristically burst into tears. She drops her purse on the ground near the door and hobbles over to where Peggy's sitting and collapses there, burrowing into Peggy's side and blubbering in a way that she hasn't done since she was at least eighteen.