"Do you think we should grab some lunch while we're out?" Steve wondered, looking around the street they were on while they were stopped at a traffic light. "I don't know this neighborhood."

"I've never really been the stopping for lunch somewhere type, but I'm sure we can find something," Celia agreed, rolling down her window to let a bit of fresh air in. "I'll pass on a diner though."

"What haven't we had for a while?" Steve murmured, thinking back over recent lunches he'd brought down for them to share in Celia's office. He liked to try new places, relishing in having someone to experience new things with. Celia obviously knew how to cook a lot of different things, but it was fun to watch her try international cuisine that she'd never indulged in before. It made him feel less out of touch.

"French toast?"

"Oh, that's a low blow," Steve said, glaring over at her as she tried to keep a straight face. But when she cracked, he did too, both of them laughing about the mess at breakfast.

"Hey, I was going to eat it."

"It would've been so bad."

"Not the worst thing I've eaten though. I had a woman I was helping about a year ago and a big thing we were working on was cooking. She loved to do it, but her confidence in her ability had just been systematically wiped away," Celia explained, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "She started cooking with me again, little by little. After a while, she was handling full meals by herself."

"That's great."

"It was, mostly. Until the chicken," Celia chuckled. Steve cringed, thinking back to the time Bucky tried to cook a bird and didn't leave the bathroom for a whole day after. "I saw it was a little pink, so I tried to eat around it. I didn't have the heart to say anything."

"Oh no."

"She was fine, but I wasn't so lucky. It is very hard to throw up quietly in a small apartment, let me tell you," Celia laughed. "I made sure a meat thermometer made it into my kitchen after that."

"So you ate undercooked chicken on purpose, just so you didn't hurt her feelings?" Steve questioned, looking over at her in a little bit of awe. "You're amazing."

"Not that big of a deal," Celia scoffed, tipping her head away as her cheeks turned pink.

"Really? What about all this?" Steve waved his hand at the mountains of clothes they were hauling back to the tower.

"All a ploy to impress you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep. Never met that guy before today. Paid actor."

"As if you had to do anything to convince me you're incredible." Steve watched as Celia opened her mouth to respond, then closed it with a clack. He was aching to just say something and put himself out of his misery. "Celia-"

"Hot dog cart!" Celia blurted out.

"Hot dog cart?"

"Hot dog cart," Celia repeated, pointing toward the sidewalk. Sure enough, there was a man selling hot dogs.

"That's what you want?"

"It's as good as anything, I suppose. Better than driving around in traffic for hours looking for something," Celia shrugged.

"It's been five minutes, at most," Steve pointed out.

"And we've barely made it anywhere," Celia replied. "I bet you could hop out and grab some before I even get to the light."

"Alright," Steve sighed, giving Celia one last look before sliding out of the car and jogging over to the sidewalk. He ordered the food, then contemplated their almost moment. Celia had to have known what he was about to say, but she'd deflected before he could even start. Was that her way of saying she didn't feel the same? Had he read the signs all wrong? Steve hadn't seen Celia interact with a ton of people, but it was different between them, right?

Steve accepted the food and walked a little down the street to catch back up to the van. Celia had been right that the traffic was awfully slow, and now he was worried that they were going to be stuck in such a small space while things were awkward. Declarations of any type weren't the best to have in a car, when you weren't able to easily escape.

"I was right," Celia said smugly, eyeing the food in his hands.

"I guess," Steve mumbled, holding one of the hot dogs out for her to take.

"I can't eat and drive. That's dangerous," Celia scoffed.

"Then why did you have me get these? They are going to get cold before we get back."

"Not necessarily."

"And how do you suppose that?" Steve asked. Celia opened her mouth and Steve waited for her to say something, but she didn't. She just let it hang open until Steve understood what she was getting at. "You're joking."

"I fed you breakfast this morning!"

"You threw cereal into my mouth!"

"And this is no different."

"It's a bit different. Am I supposed to throw this at you?"

"It doesn't have to be that aggressive."

"And how do you expect me to do this?"

"I don't have a way to explain it to you without it sounding like an innuendo!" Celia exclaimed, throwing a hand into the air in exasperation. Steve felt his face heat up at the possible turn in conversation. But if Celia was still openly joking about something like that, maybe he hadn't read things wrong after all.

"Open up," Steve said, guiding the end of the hot dog into her waiting mouth. Celia took a bite, perking up as she chewed.

"It's good," Celia mumbled around her mouthful. Steve took his own bite, feeling like he was a kid again. These had been a rare treat.

"It is," Steve agreed.

"Did you just eat off of my hot dog?" Celia gasped, staring at him in bewilderment.

"So? We can't share?"

"But my bite was practically all bun. You just got to skip ahead to the good part."

"You're ridiculous."

"And you have terrible hot dog sharing etiquette."

"That's not a thing."

"Obviously not to you."

"Sure," Steve chuckled, holding the hot dog up again for her to take another bite. A smear of mustard was left on the corner of Celia's mouth and before Steve could stop himself, he repeated her actions from the diner. Steve dragged his thumb across the mess, bringing the digit up to his mouth to lick it clean. He understood now what Clint had been talking about. That move definitely sent out some signals.

"Wow," Celia murmured, taking a shaky breath. They seemed to be on the same page.

They finished their lunch without any more drama, then finally made it back to Stark Tower. It was hard work stuffing all of the bags into the elevator, but they made it work, sitting on the piles so they could ride up with everything.

"Where should I put all this?" Celia asked, sliding off her perch as soon as the elevator doors opened.

"What do you usually do?"

"Well, I didn't have a lot of options in my apartment. I pretty much put bags wherever I could so I could go through them all."

"Living room?" Steve suggested, gripping as many bags as he could and dragging them into the open space. Celia agreed, grabbing a good amount as well. "So how do you go through them?"

"Oh, I've got a whole system," Celia chuckled, blowing at a curl that was hanging in front of her face. "We don't have to worry about it now though. I've already taken up so much of the day you had planned."

"Hey, I liked going with you. Any time I can learn more about you is worth it," Steve said, tucking the errant strand of hair behind Celia's ear. Celia was staring up at him and Steve could feel the air crackling around them. If he didn't know better he would say that Thor was here, conjuring up lightning from the sky. Maybe actions would be more powerful than words?

"Pardon the interruption, Captain Rogers, but I have Director Fury on the line. He says it's urgent," Jarvis said suddenly. Steve groaned, closing his eyes in exasperation.

"Is there a mission?" Steve asked, really hoping it wasn't.

"I don't believe there is."

"Do what you need to do. I'll be fine," Celia assured him, moving back to the elevator to grab the last of the bags. Steve tipped his head back, sighing in annoyance as he made his way to the privacy of his bedroom. Once upon a time he would've been eager to take the call, wanting to be useful in any way he could. But Shield was so unlike the SSR. And Fury was no Phillips.

After what felt like the longest hour of Steve's life, he was finally freed from the call. In his opinion, the subject hadn't been important enough to warrant such a long discussion, but he didn't argue that point. Steve didn't want to risk angering Fury and directing his ire back on Celia. He'd left her alone for the time being and Steve wanted to keep it that way. Now it was time to try to salvage the rest of their day.

Steve walked back into the living room, pausing in the doorway as he took in the mess. There were piles of clothes everywhere and Celia was sitting in the middle of it all. She was facing the windows and hadn't noticed his arrival, so he took a moment to watch her work. Celia was grabbing an article of clothing from a bag, giving it a quick once over, then tossing it into one of the piles that Steve couldn't recognize as a cohesive category.

"Making good progress?" Steve asked, tipping his head to the side in confusion when Celia didn't react. He picked his way closer, noticing the cords coming from her ears that had been obscured by her hair from where he'd been standing earlier. Steve chuckled as he saw her silently singing along to whatever she was listening to.

"Fuck!" Celia shouted as soon as she spotted him out of the corner of her eye. Somehow he'd begun to find her swearing a bit endearing. She didn't do it nearly as often as she did when they first met, probably due to him, but sometimes it still slipped through. He'd never tell her that she had to stop, but it was kind of sweet that she tried.

"Didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine," Celia laughed, pulling her earbuds out of her ears. "I just get into a zone when I'm working."

"I can see that," Steve said, waving his hands at the chaos.

"Sorry," Celia murmured.

"Don't be. I'm just glad you found something to do while I was stuck on that call."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yep, nothing important."

"Well, let me try to get this in a better order so we can get to whatever you have planned next," Celia said, gathering up a pile in her arms.

"Or," Steve said, hopping around a heap of clothes to plop down on the floor next to her, "how about I help you?"

"Really?" Celia grinned.

"Just show me your system so I don't mess anything up."

"I know it looks crazy, but it's not," Celia scoffed, rolling her eyes. "This is just the preliminary sorting."

"Oh boy," Steve sighed exaggeratedly. Celia scooted over to elbow him in his side, but didn't move back, letting their legs brush up against each other.

"I have everything separated into different piles. This one is ready to wear, so nothing that needs to be done to the clothes before donating. This one is for things that need some mending, but otherwise still wearable. The third pile is for things that are beyond fixing, like big stains or parts missing. And the last is anything you aren't sure about and need closer inspecting," Celia explained, pointing out everything.

"Sounds easy enough," Steve agreed, dragging a bag closer to him so he could get started. Of course the first thing he pulled out was a bra and he dropped it like he'd been burned. Celia was outright cackling at him, patting his knee as she grabbed the article of clothing. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting that."

"Don't worry. Lou washes everything for me before he bags it up," Celia brushed off, excusing his reaction.

"He seems like a nice guy."

"He really is."

"And it was a nice thing you did for his daughter."

"I did it for purely selfish reasons. It got me a laundry hook up," Celia waved off.

"You know, you shouldn't do that," Steve sighed, tilting his head to meet her eyes.

"Do what?"

"Downplay everything you do for people."

"Look who's talking," Celia scoffed. "I think I would die of shock if I saw you acting more like Tony."

"I'm sure there's somewhere in the middle that is more appropriate for the both of us."

"Maybe," Celia murmured, rolling her eyes. Steve could admit that he was the same way, but it was easier encouraging people you cared about to be proud of their accomplishments.

"How about this one?" Steve asked, holding up a blouse that had one sleeve hanging on by a thread.

"You can toss it in the fixable pile. I like a challenge," Celia replied, throwing a completely wrecked pair of jeans in the beyond saving pile. "Do you know how to mend clothes?"

"I grew up poor, of course I know how to mend clothes," Steve chuckled.

"I'd love to see Captain America sew. Is there anything he can't do?" Drum up the courage to profess his feelings evidently.

"What were you listening to?" Steve asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing until he could say what he wanted to say.

"Natasha got me an ipod, so I was just listening to some random stuff," Celia said, handing over the little blue electronic. He flipped it over, feeling something on the back of it.

"Not to be used during battle?" Steve asked, reading the inscription.

"Bit of an inside joke with Natasha," Celia waved off. Steve hummed in acknowledgment, handing the ipod back over. "Want to listen to anything?"

"I'm not really a fan of the current style of music," Steve admitted.

"Aw, come on. There's got to be something new that you like," Celia pressed, scrolling through the menu on the little device. "I remember when I first started listening to mainstream music. It sounded crazy. But before then I'd never been able to listen to anything that wasn't church related, so I had no idea of what was out there."

"I used to listen to real music," Steve defended. His time probably had some of the best singers ever.

"I know what you need," Celia said knowingly. She pressed one of her earbuds into his ear, keeping the other for herself. "How about some 90s ballads?" Celia pressed play and the sound of a woman singing soon filled his ear. It sounded good. More about the singer and less about an overwhelming beat.

"Who is this?"

"Whitney Houston. I've got some others in here too, like Mariah Carey and Celine Dion. You can borrow this anytime you want," Celia offered.

"Thanks," Steve replied, shooting her a soft smile. When he'd started this day, he'd wanted to sweep Celia off her feet with fancy food and romantic declarations, but this felt much more special. Sitting pressed up against each other while sorting clothes and listening to music was turning this into a perfect day. If he could feel this satisfied, while doing something so ordinary, that had to mean something. He couldn't wait any longer.

"Hey Celia, can I talk to you about something?" Steve asked, sliding the jacket she was holding out of her hand and threading their fingers together.

"Sure," Celia murmured, shifting a little so they were facing each other a bit more. Steve could feel his heart racing as they made eye contact and his mouth got a little dry. He didn't want to hold in what he was feeling anymore. And if Celia didn't feel the same, he would deal with it. But keeping it all in was going to drive him crazy.

"I was planning on waiting until dinner for this, but I figure this is as good of a time as any," Steve started, blowing out a calming breath so his voice would come out strong. "Celia, I-"

"Pardon the interruption, but Director Fury is on the line for you," Jarvis said.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Steve groaned, glaring up at the ceiling. "What is it this time?"

"There appears to be a mission that the Avengers are needed on." Steve shut his eyes in discouragement. Of all the times for this to happen.

"It's okay. We can talk later," Celia said, her voice full of understanding, but also nervous. At least this time she knew in advance and didn't have to find out from a coworker in the middle of her work day.

"I'm sorry," Steve muttered, handing over the earbud he'd been using. Celia twirled the cord around her finger, watching him as he stood up.

"Be careful, okay?" Celia said, bouncing her knee anxiously. This was his job and they both knew that, but Steve couldn't help but feel terribly guilty about leaving Celia behind. Nothing had gone to plan today, but they'd adjusted and somehow made it better. Maybe that luck could continue.

"Come with us!" Steve blurted out. Celia shot him a look like he was crazy.

"What?"

"Why not? I'm not saying you're going to be out there fighting with us, but you can stay on the quinjet," Steve proposed, liking the idea the more he was fleshing it out. "If you're going to join us eventually, you're going to need to see how we work. You can sit in the jet on comms while we're out."

"Are you sure?" Celia asked hesitantly, but Steve could see a bit of excitement building up.

"Yes," Steve replied confidently, reaching a hand down for Celia to take. She accepted it, letting him pull her up to her feet.

"Let's go be superheroes," Celia declared, smiling widely. If only Steve had known that would be the last time he saw that look on Celia's face for a long time.