This chapter is in Charlotte's P.O.V. It's format, therefore, is a bit different, as Charlotte is a different person than Steve is. She's a bit jumbled, and stutters with her words when she's trying to show feelings and being vulnerable, specifically when it concerns Steve. It took more months than I am willing to admit (but I am sure some you know just how long) to finish this, as I would get a few sentences in, and stop because I had to pause and think: what would dorky, imperfect, and strong Charlotte do? She's all mine, so it is sometimes harder to come up with her thought process when I am so rooting for her to do or say the right thing-yet it never works out that way. Either way, I love Charlotte because she's so normal and imperfect and dorky, and such a civilian that I think she's just what Steve needs.

Her face felt tight, and she could feel the anger in her veins as she stared down at Agent Hill, and Natasha Romanoff sitting at one of her tables at the café she was working at.

"I have a thirty-minute break in an hour. You can come back then," Charlotte said in response to the inquiry for a meeting, her voice clipped and with a threat that left no voice for argument. "Are you staying? If so, what can I get you?"

Agent Hill's eyes narrowed in annoyance, and Natasha's lip twitched in what could have been a smile.

"Coffee's fine," The redhead responded.

"Water," Her companion intoned, her jaw locked.

Charlotte glared briefly, but nodded in acknowledgment still. "Be right back," she mumbled.

When Charlotte stepped into the back kitchen to grab another table's order, she was tempted to text Steve to let him know that his co-workers were outside requesting a meeting out of a civilian. But he was somewhere in South America without communication, and, at any rate, she would have never done that. She could take care of herself.

The next hour was uneventful, smiling at customers and taking orders while she tried to ignore the glare from the two agents sitting in the back of the café.

By the time her break came around, she was scowling, her stomach in a knot as she tried not to think of the worst case scenario. Her head, though, wasn't cooperating, conjuring images of Steve laying on the ground, his pretty blue eyes lifeless-and, nope, she wasn't going to go there. He couldn't be dead. They would have told her without the waiting around. Maybe.

Right.

"He's not dead, is he?" Was her greeting as she slid into a seat in front of Agent Hill.

"Cap's fine," It was Natasha that answered from beside her, taking a sip of her third cup of coffee. "You gonna eat?" She asked next, almost in a conversational manner, as if her and her partner's presence wasn't a rarity. Almost friendly, and Charlotte wanted to laugh and punch something all at the same time.

The woman had never truly been friendly. Steve had told her that Natasha seemed to like her just fine, but Charlotte's intuition told her another story. In fact, she felt tolerated by the woman, as if she were merely just there because her boyfriend brought her, but not because she was wanted. She felt unwelcomed by the redhead, and refused any invitation at real, substantial conversation that Charlotte had tried to have with her for the sake of friendship, or at least camaraderie. Natasha didn't like her, not really, and Charlotte knew.

And of Maria Hill? Well, the dislike was mutual.

Charlotte shook her head. "I'm good…what can I help you with?" She asked, wanting this to end as soon as it could. She felt intimidated by the piercing eyes of both women on her, and while on anyone else intimidation might manifest in shyness and fidgeting, Charlotte knew that she turned into a wounded animal, lashing out with anger and retaliating with a sharp tongue if she didn't check herself. She felt confident, but uncomfortable as she squared her shoulders as if that would lessen the brunt of what the women would eventually say.

"Let me get to the point, Ms. Owens: You know too much" It was Agent Hill that spoke first, an eyebrow raised as if to challenge her own statement.

"About?" Charlotte asked. If Agent Hill wanted to play with words and be ambiguous enough to let Charlotte incriminate herself, then two could play at this game. They'd done this before, after all.

Hill snorted in a derisive way, and Charlotte clenched her fists in her lap. "Oh, come on, Ms. Owens. You're dating Captain-"

"Steve. I'm dating Steve Rogers."

And Charlotte was stubborn on this particular point. She had been from the second Steve had told her, because it was the truth. She had developed a crush on the shy, awkward man that had pretty, lonely eyes. She had really liked the man with the half smile, old leather jacket, and bashful blush. And she had fallen in love with Steven Grant Rogers, the man who fed the homeless on his days off, complained about inflation, and still read the newspapers in paper form.

She had never, for one second, thought of Captain America as the man she was dating. He was the man that Charlotte had never particularly met, as she had only seen broken Steve Rogers in the costume once, when he'd knocked on her door at a God-awful time, his eyes looking haunted, and sagging against her as if he depended on her. But that was Steve in a costume, not Captain America, and she was fine with never having met the guy. She was sure he was as amazing as Steve Rogers, but the two were not inclusive, not really, so she didn't feel the need. Steve was Steve, and that was that.

"When it comes to Captain America-"

"I'm sorry, I'm going to have to stop you right there, because I feel as if there's some kind of language barrier here. I've told you who my boyfriend is on more than one occasion, Agent Hill, but somehow you don't seem to understand what I've been-"

"We're here because you're going to get yourself killed, and, in the process, your boyfriend." Natasha interrupted, her big eyes looking at Charlotte impassively, as if she'd merely commented on the taste of the coffee in front of her.

"If you're trying to give me the shovel talk-" Charlotte began, her jaw in pain from how tightly she was clenching it.

"Merely a friendly warning. You're important to Steve, and important things are the first thing the enemy gets a hold of. You should ask Pepper Potts about it."

"I'm not a-"

"This is not about being afraid, Ms. Owens. It's about survival. Ever heard of fight-or-flight?"

"I've never been one to back down. I'm hard-headed."

"This isn't a classroom debate, Ms. Owens."

And Charlotte was speechless. Offended. "I know what I'm getting myself into."

"Sure." Natasha said with a small, cynical smirk. She stood up then, Agent Hill standing as well, and putting some bills on the table to cover the coffee.

"Just friendly advice." Agent Hill said on her way out.

The conversation kept replaying in the back of her mind after that. Going back to work after her lunch break was over was a bad as idea as she was sent home twenty minutes in when she dropped two platters with coffee cups on top because her hands couldn't stop shaking.

And Charlotte wished she was shaking with fear. That would at least be rational, she figured, because that's what normal people would feel like when an assassin and a government agent came to them to inform them of their impending death. Except that she wasn't afraid.

She was angry. Furious even. How dare they think it was acceptable to come threaten (because that's what it was; it was an ultimatum: end it with Steve or die) her at her place of work, and mock her? She was young, true, only twenty-one, but she was smart, and not just classroom smart, as Natasha had pointed out. She was stubborn, but smart enough to know when to quit.

And Steve was one thing she was not going to quit.

He was good; so good she sometimes felt undeserving of him, but she was stubborn and selfish enough to not want to let go.

But he wasn't perfect. He was as stubborn as her, and hard-headed (like her) when he got an idea into his head.

He sometimes forgot to put down the toilet seat, and God did that not anger Charlotte. She'd lived with two pigs for brothers her whole life, she'd told him once, and she was not about to live with another-never mind that they had not officially moved in together yet. And Steve had rolled his eyes at her, something so out-of-place for him that Charlotte had laughed instantly, all annoyance leaving her.

He worked out like it was nobody's business, Charlotte discovered soon, even though he never did when she was free-which didn't seem to be too often in the beginning of their relationship. That had once been a deal breaker for Charlotte, since she hated the thought of a man spending three hours at the gym when he could be doing anything other than that-like reading a book. She was the first to admit that she had judged Steve that way when he'd first walked into her café, all muscles and height. In fact, she hadn't liked him much at first glance, categorizing him as the jock type that spent all of his free time (and then some) at the gym until she realized how incredibly sweet and shy he could be.

He got her flowers way too often. Charlotte wasn't the romantic type, or the type that expected love declarations left and right. She believed in actions, and there was not one second that she did not feel loved in the presence of Steve. He opened doors, placed his hands on the small of her back when they were around crowds or entering a room, and liked to hold her hand when in public; all gestures she had scoffed at once, but realized were Steve's form of affection. But he insisted on the flowers, getting her a bouquet of white roses at least twice a week so that her room always had fresh flowers. She would have told him it was a waste of money if he didn't blush as prettily as he did when he handed them over.

And he wore cardigans. Like old man cardigans, the ones that should not look as good as they did on him. Tony would always call him Mr. Rogers when he did so, and Steve would roll his eyes because Bruce had been kind enough to explain that particular reference. But he never stopped wearing them, going as far as doing so more often when he realized Charlotte enjoyed unbuttoning them.

She mused all of this as she walked around Central Park, as she like to do, to try and clear her head, but knew she would get nowhere with that. SHIELD had a knack for getting her shaken up, going as far as having someone follow her everywhere, including in that particular moment. She had been creeped out at first, but didn't tell Steve. The man didn't seem to be anywhere near her whenever Steve was around, so she wasn't going to bother him with it.

She'd always been good at observing her surroundings, so it was easy to pin point the man in a dark suit who always seemed to be at the exact same spot she was at, sitting a few tables from her when she'd sit down to read at a coffee shop, or sitting a few chairs over from her every time she sat waiting in the lobby of one of the many different place she had tried to get hired at. SHIELD, she supposed, didn't think they needed to be any sort of subtle with her, someone they saw as more of a nuisance than a threat.

So she sat down on the nearest unoccupied bench she could find, and spoke as loudly as it was sociably acceptable. "You know I know you've been following me for months, right?"

She was tired of, and felt a bit rude for not addressing the man that had been following her for months before. They'd been times when she felt like calling him out, but she was of the idea that sometimes pretending that things were not there was the right thing to do. Not on every situation, but for the sake of not raising an argument between SHIELD, Steve, and herself, who was already hated by the organization, she had pretended the shadow was not there. But she was done that day.

No one responded for a few moments until the man in the dark suit sat next to her, staring straight ahead with a pair of dark sunglasses on. He was tall and lanky, with a buzz cut and a very unattractive mustache that looked like it took a few months to even grow out.

"You're very observant," he commented after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You're not that subtle," she retorted. "You suck at your job."

And normally, she would be pleasant, but her mouth and brain were never connected when she was angry and, or sad.

"Which is why I'm stuck detailing you," he answered, "no offense. SHIELD just figured a civilian would never notice." And, as an afterthought, he added, "I am so fired for this."

"Why are you even following me?" She asked, ignoring his comment. He could get fired for all she cared. He obviously sucked and he knew it.

"Classified," he answered but then grinned and took off his glasses, a pair of green eyes dazzling down at her. "But since I'm totally fired now…SHIELD basically hates you, but needs Cap, and there's some intel that your name came up in some files Agent Romanoff recovered from a terrorist organization. They figure that if you stay alive, Cap keeps on fighting for them."

Well, the kid was easy and definitely should not have even gotten into the organization.

Charlotte was quiet for a long time, trying to process the information. The information did not startle her as much as it should have, she mused to herself when she discovered that it didn't even cause her to shake. Maybe it was because of the conversation she'd had that morning with the two female agents that she was not as impressed as she could have been. Been there, done that, I guess, she thought to herself.

So, instead of asking more questions that she was not even entirely sure she even wanted the answers to, she grinned, and turned to the nameless agent next to her. "Wow. You are so fired after this."

"At this point, it's go big or go home, baby." He laughed, "Besides, I hate this job. You're boring."

"How'd they even let you in to begin with, anyway?" she asked, because, what the heck? She'd already had a crappy day, and Steve was not even in the same continent, and she had nothing else to do. Plus, he didn't seem to be offended by her blunt comments, just like she didn't take anything he was saying against her to heart.

He shrugged. "I got in fair and square. Only, I kept thinking SHIELD would be all world saving and fighting bad guys, but it totally isn't. It's more paperwork than anything, and rookies like me just get to do stupid stuff…" he trailed off.

"Like following me around," she finished for him.

"Yes," he responded with a grin. "Anyway, since I know I am fired, I am going to go get drunk for the first time since I started working for this organization. Wanna come with?"

Charlotte thought about it, surprised at how tempting the offer sounded. She wasn't much of a drinker, only really doing it when she was around people she trusted, and even then she never let herself get drunk. She was a heavy weight, her friends had discovered, and so she was almost always the designated driver. But she shook the temptation off, completely over the idea of spending more time with SHIELD Agents than she had already done so that day.

"No, but thanks for offering. Have fun looking for another job, I guess," she responded after a bit, and the agent, whose name she did not know, and she could not even begin to care about, smiled as he stood up.

"I'll try." And he was gone with a wave.

Almost as if on cue, Charlotte's phone went off. She took it out of her pocket with a sigh and smiled a bit when she saw Steve's confused face lighting up her screen. She'd taken that particular picture by surprise, calling his name out quickly and exclaiming, "cheese!" before she took the picture. It was her favorite.

"You're alive," she greeted, as she did every time she saw or heard of him after a mission. She knew the way she phrased some things were insensitive and even offensive sometimes, but she was of the idea of ripping the band aid off as fast as possible, so to speak.

There was a bit of silence, and she chuckled because she knew Steve had nodded on the other side and was now blushing at his mistake. "I can't see you, old man" she smiled as she said that, and Steve chuckled into her ear.

"You think you're so funny," he commented, but Charlotte could hear his smile over the phone. "Where are you? I went to your work to see you, but they said you went home early. Is everything alright?"

And Charlotte knew there were two ways this conversation could go. She knew she could lie, say everything was fine, and go on until everything blew up. She'd watched enough romantic comedies where everyone bottled up things until a break up happened, and her past behavior in this relationship had proven part of this theory. Steve was honest with her, as much as he could working for SHIELD, anyway, and she had to learn to be as equally trusting as he was.

So she told him everything over the phone, not whining, but just telling him about SHIELD, about the intel, about the agent that had just blown his cover, and about that morning. He didn't interrupt, just listened, and Charlotte had to ponder, as she had been doing almost every day for the last several months, on how she got so lucky with Steve.

"And, I feel like I should probably be scared, because, come on, that would be a normal human reaction, but I'm not…It's kindda funny, actually. Not the situation…just, everything, I guess." She finished. There was more silence and Charlotte almost thought she was alone in the line if she couldn't hear Steve's breathing. "Also, SHIELD really needs to screen their recruits better. There was not one second where I wasn't aware of the agent's presence."

There was more silence, and Charlotte was suddenly worried by it. "You still there, Steve?"

"Yup." He answered, and Charlotte cringed. He was mad. "Where are you?"

"Central Park, but you're probably tired, and-"

"You should go to the Tower. JARVIS knows you have access to my floor-"

"Nope. I am going to go grab ice cream, maybe a bag of chips, and then head to my own apartment-"

"Charlotte-"

"Steve."

She heard him sigh. "Look, I'm going back to headquarters to fix this-"

"Nope, nothing to fix here. In fact, I'm really starting to regret even saying anything in the first place-"

"Really, Charlotte? Can you at least please take this a little bit more seriously? This can mean a serious threat-"

"You know what, I am not doing this with you right now, especially over the phone. You wanna be angry? Fine, because now I am too, so I kindda don't want to see your face at this moment. So, I'm going to hang up, and go home, and we can talk about this in person at a later time that is not today."

And she hung up on him before he said anything, before he would retort and she would feel bad and think about the puppy dog eyes he had perfected down to a T (and if anybody told her they were unintentional, she would laugh because Steve wasn't as innocent as people thought) and her resolve would crumble.

She was mad and she was going to stay mad because this one was not on her. Sure, she liked to think she knew what she had signed up for when she began to date Steve Rogers, but it was times like these, when agents from SHIELD tried to intimidate her, that she realized that maybe she was way in over her head.

By the time she got to her apartment, with a pint of coffee flavored ice cream and a family size bag of chips, she was dragging her feet, already feeling slightly guilty about hanging up on Steve, but not enough for her to call him or even begin to formulate an apology. She would stay mad for a bit more, she determined as she set up camp in the living room in front of her beat up laptop, who was struggling to pull up Netflix.

"You need a new laptop," Jay commented as he sat beside her slumped form on the beat up couch, taking the tub of ice cream and spoon from her willing hands, and scooping up some into his mouth. "Trouble with the All-American Boy?" he asked after a few minutes of passing the ice cream between them back and forth silently. Netflix was still not loaded.

"His name's Steve," was her response because she didn't want to answer the question. It wasn't so much as she was mad at him, really. She was just angry at the world in general, she supposed, and, if she was being honest with herself, she was now madder at Magnus, her stupid laptop.

"Isn't that what I said?" Jay grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes. "You know I'd offer to beat him up, but I'd rather not get my ass kicked…I could try and hack his computer, though. Load it with viruses or something." There was a beat of silence and then, "maybe porn. He seems like the type that wouldn't like that sort of thing."

"Ok, why are you doing this? Since when have you given one care to my relationship with Steve?" She asked, half jokingly, but truthfully stunned. Jay was her friend, sure, but they were really more roommates that tolerated each other enough to share a spoon, and a bathroom in the mornings when one needed to brush their teeth while the other was in the shower. They were poor college students, including Lauren, so of course they lost all sense of modesty when in their small overpriced New York apartment.

But that was about it. They didn't much care for each other's personal lives as long as they didn't interfere with paying the rent and doing their chores. They were friends, but not Friends.

"I don't know." Jay shrugged, but gave her a smile as he licked the excess of ice cream off the spoon before handing it back to her. "I think I'm suddenly sentimental since we're about to part ways and all that. Plus, I want to make sure you don't break up with that pretty boy of yours before you have a place to stay. It'd be a shame if you had to move back to Arizona because you couldn't afford a place in whatever place you actually wanted to be."

Charlotte smiled, a bit watery since this had probably had to be the first time her and Jay had talked about anything sentimental. Mostly, their language was made up of jokes and teasing each other, but never anything too deep. So she let her eyes get watery as her body shifted closer to his so that she could lay her head on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Jay." She said, and he shrugged against her head.

"Yeah, sure," they stayed stayed in silence for some more time before Jay chuckled and added, "besides, I'm afraid that you will break it off with the All American Boy and end up an old spinster because of how incredibly dorky you are."

"Screw you," she laughed before she shoved off him, taking the tub of ice cream from his hands. "I would so not be an old spinster. I'm a dog person. It is literally in my genes that I meet an all around good guy that loves dogs and possibly hiking, and is therefore, the epitome of perfection. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm meant to live some kind of really bad and cheesy romantic comedy."

"And what? This is the part where you're angry at Perfect Guy so you wallow in typical girl fashion with ice cream and romantic movies, and Perfect Guy is over somewhere stewing on his own anger? Should I be expecting him to knock on our door at an ungodly hour to perform a perfectly choreographed musical number outlining the reasons why he can't live without you?" Jay teased. "That is, of course, if your stupid computer ever gets around to loading up a simple web page so we can move along with this plot line."

Charlotte rolled her eyes. "It's not like that. I'm not even sure I'm angry at him at all. I've just had a crappy day."

"Uh-hu." Nodded, and Charlotte knew he was mocking her so she shoved him again, hoping he'd fall off the couch. And he did, rather ungracefully, but laughed it off and picked himself back up.

"Whatever; I get the hint. Going now. I have a life, you know. Places to see, people to meet, all that," he said, grabbing his keys from the kitchen table.

"I see how it is! You're ditching me for a hot date!" Charlotte called after him.

"Hell yeah I am. Try not to wake up with our sounds-Oh, hey Steve! Why yes, go right in and talk to your girlfriend! You about to start singing now?"

"What?" Charlotte heard Steve question, and she sighed. He was here and now she had to be angry, and eventually let him steer them towards a compromise even though all she wanted to do was act tired an dpretend today hadn't happened at all.

She heard Jay laugh and the closing of the door before Steve settled beside her on the couch with a heavy sigh. Charlotte looked at him from the corner of her eyes and saw him open his mouth to begin speaking before she interrupted him because she really wasn't up for any dramatics now.

"I love you, Steve, but I kindda don't like you right now. I don't want to hear any lecture from you about danger and cautiousness because I am a grown ass woman that can take care of herself and knows what she's gotten herself into. So, I would suggest that we don't talk about this until I realize I'm angrier at the situation than I am at you."

"I don't like you every much right now either. You're too stubborn." Was all he said before he took the melting ice cream from her offering hands. "We watching a blank screen tonight?"

"We are if my piece of crap technology decides to work," she responded, opening the bag of chips she had by her feet. "Everything went fine?"

"Are you asking about the mission or about SHIELD and the stack of intel about you they recovered from a HYDRA facility. Or maybe about the agent that's been following you around for about six months now and is now facing serious legal repercussions because he just spilled confidential information to a target?" Steve responded in a clipped tone, and Charlotte's face froze into a mask of fury.

He wanted to fight when there really shouldn't be a fight? Fine, she could be angry and yell and be mean if he wanted her to be. She'd accrued enough anger all of that day, after all.

"About the mission, but I feel like that's not what you want to talk about," she answered with a glare of her own. Steve set the ice cream down with much more force than was needed onto the coffee table in front of him and turned his full attention towards her. She did the same with the bag of chips, letting some spill onto the floor, but she didn't care.

Steve shrugged stiffly, "no, let's talk about my mission. It began with a ten-hour flight to Brazil, in which I debriefed my team with information that later on turned out to be completely false. I had two of my men die, and four injured. And we never retrieved the documents that we were supposed to be extracting. I came to headquarters with a mile-long list of reports I had to fill out before I had to sit in an uncomfortable conference room as I recounted to my superior exactly why a simple intel mission went wrong. And then, when that was all over, I had to meet up with HR and make sure that I signed the consolation letters that the family of the two men that died will receive tomorrow morning, as if a paper signed by the leader of the mission their spouse or son was on is enough to lessen the brunt of a dead loved one. And then, when I think I can just be Steve going out to lunch with his best girl Charlotte, I'm told she's gone home early. And then I call you, and my day doesn't end." He took a deep breath and Charlotte felt so guilty, so angry still, and so sad now at the same time that she couldn't come up with anything to do or say. "You wanna talk about the intel now?"

Charlotte shook her head no.

"You sure? 'Cause I sure do." Steve said, and Charlotte could feel the anger behind the seemingly innocent question. There was a pause and then, "Or you wanna ignore all this and pretend like everything's perfect, because-"

"You don't have to be a jerk," Charlotte mumbled, looking at the ground, and she felt like hitting herself for sounding so pathetic. She had meant to say it with more conviction, with anger, and perhaps a whole lot of indignation. But she knew he was tired and angry and, because they were so alike, he could be mean without meaning to in times of anger just like her. And she didn't want to fight, because, just like she had thought it all along, she really was not angry at Steve. He was just a scapegoat to all her frustration of the day. And now, she was probably his.

"You're right. I'm sorry." He conceded. She felt his fingers ghost over her thigh and knee, so that she had to look up. "It's been a crappy couple of days."

Charlotte shrugged. "I won't pretend I know what your days have been like…and I can't compare it to mine, but in normal, civilian perspective, my day's been crappy too."

Steve gave her a small smile, a ghost of the boyish smile that had made her fall in love with him so, and she gave him a small smile of her own in return.

There was some silence between them, not uncomfortably so, but not familiar and welcoming like theirs were.

Charlotte's mind, then, brought forth what she had refused to think about all along and she couldn't help the onslaught of words as they poured out of her mouth.

"You're not going to break up with me, are you? Because if you are, I would let you because I refuse to be with somebody that doesn't want to be in a relationship, except, well, it's going to kill me, and I really don't want to break up over some stupid noble, 'I want to protect Charlotte,' thing."

Steve looked at her with slightly panicked eyes, "I don't-I wouldn't-"

"Ok, good. I don't want to." Charlotte swallowed past the forming lump in her throat. "I know you've given up everything-literally everything-for the sake of protecting others, but maybe, I don't know, maybe-maybe-you can be a bit selfish with me?"

Steve smiled, and Charlotte was talking again before he spoke up. "I've never asked anything of you other than for you to understand I am independent, so I think I can ask you this. I-I mean, if you want to break up with me, I just need you to have a valid reason, like, 'oh Charlotte, I fell in love with Natasha,' or even, 'oh Charlotte, I just realized you're such a dork' or something equally as plausible as that because that would be ok because it's valid enough. But can you please not break up with me because you think that will protect me? It won't because my name is already on files, and I read the Harry Potter books, and Ginny was no better protected without Harry after he broke up with her than when she was with him. It doesn't end well either way, so I think we should stay together."

"Natasha?" he raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"You spend a lot of time with her. And she's hot and the brooding mysterious kind."

"And I'm Harry Potter now?"

"You both have a certain kind of sass that would borderline asshole if it were not for the pretty eyes and hero complexes."

Steve laughed then, a deep rumbling, body shaking laugh that had him leaning against the couch, his head thrown back, an arm around his stomach as he held onto her knee with his free hand.

And the Charlotte was laughing too, because why not? This was probably the strangest day she'd ever had, and Steve was alive, and laughing like she had never seen him laugh before.

He pulled her onto his lap after a few minutes of peels of laughter, pulling her hair away from her face, and caressing calloused thumbs against her cheeks.

"I'm not breaking up with you anytime soon. I've got a ring for you in my sock drawer that I intend to slide onto your finger sometime soon."

"Ok." Was all she said, and Steve kept on talking.

"SHIELD's appointing another agent to detail you-"

"No, Steve-"

"Yes, Charlotte. Please." And Charlotte sighed because she guessed she could understand. Compromises, she reminded herself.

"Can I at least know their name this time? And maybe be assured that they won't be following me into the bathroom, or watching me while I sleep?"

"Deal." His hands moved down to her waist, his eyes twinkling in amusement. "Natasha's not my type, by the way. I'm into dorky, curvy brunette's that are too stubborn for themselves, and call me a jerk when I'm being one."

And just like that they were Steve and Charlotte again. In sync, and truthful, and so in love Charlotte felt like gagging.