This picks up right after the last chapter ended. Keep the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier and Iron Man 3 loosely in mind.

The alarm woke them up an hour and a half later, and Steve groaned, turning away from it, and prodding at Charlotte's feet with his own.

"Leave me 'lone," she said into her pillow, kicking at him much harder than he had, but he felt the bed dip as she got up, and turned off the alarm. "This is some real bullshit, having to be up at three thirty in the morning." He heard her grumble on the way to the bathroom.

Steve sighed and gave himself thirty or so minutes while Charlotte got ready to snooze in bed before he would get up to make her a cup of coffee to go. Maybe he'd get her to at least eat a piece of toast-she had a thing against breakfast.

He was abruptly woken from his light sleep by a thump and a slight cry from their walk-in closet, and Steve would've been worried if Charlotte didn't hit her limbs or head against a wall at least once every morning.

"Josh is driving me to the airport, since we weren't sure whether you would be back today. You should go back to bed." Charlotte informed him as he handed her a coffee tumbler, her eyes transfixed on whatever she was reading on her phone.

Josh was one of the SHIELD agents assigned to shadow her when Steve wasn't around. He had met the guy a couple of times, and had read up on his file. He had only been working at the agency for the last year and didn't have much field experience, but anyone tailing Charlotte had the same characteristics-Fury refused to waste too many resources on someone they considered a very low level target.

"It's fine, I'm going on a run as soon as you leave, anyway." He told her, popping some bread into the toaster.

"Say hi to my boyfriend for me, will you?" Charlotte said and laughed when he gave her a deadpanned look.

It turned out that Sam had been the guy that had flirted with her at a Starbucks that one time a while back. They had only found out about it when Charlotte and Steve had gone out to Starbucks one Saturday morning and encountered Sam in line. Charlotte had instantly greeted him with a "hey, boyfriend!" at the same time Steve called his name, and the confusion on Steve's face for the thirty seconds it took him to figure it out had Charlotte in stitches for a good five minutes.

Sam had looked mildly panicked for a couple of minutes, while he tried to explain to Steve that he had flirted with her once-but only because he hadn't seen the ring on her finger, and he had mistaken her offer to give him muffins from time to time as flirting. Charlotte then explained that those were part of the muffins she took to work sometimes, and that, by that definition, she was flirting with half the population in D.C.

It took a few weeks for Steve to find it amusing in the least, and for Sam to stop apologizing every time they saw each other, but Charlotte never stopped calling Sam "boyfriend".

Her phone vibrated against the counter, and she quickly gathered her purse, her duffle bag, and the card board box full of blueberry muffins, opening it to hand him one, before pulling at his neck so that she could kiss him properly.

"See ya!" She said, detouring towards Timber, who was tiredly looking up from his dog bed, and giving him a kiss in between his eyes.

He met her by the door, where he took the duffle bag off her shoulders, and grabbed his set of keys. "I'll walk you down," he simply told her, holding her hand on the way to the elevator.

Outside, Josh was waiting with the trunk open, and greeted Steve with a handshake.

"Morning, Josh," Charlotte said, taking a muffin out, and handing it over.

The agent thanked her, bid his goodbye to Steve and told her he was ready whenever she was.

Steve gave her one, long last kiss and mumbled "I love you" into her lips before pulling at a strand of hair, "see you in two days."

"I love you too," she responded, getting into the car.

"I think you missed the turn, Josh." Charlotte said, looking up from the email she was typing on her tablet.

Josh hummed but didn't answer, and Charlotte's bones turned cold. But she remained calm, convincing herself that nothing could possibly be wrong. Josh was SHIELD, after all. She set her work aside.

At the next turn, Charlotte tried again, "the airport is in the opposite direction."

This time, an answer. "I know." And he smiled at her through the rearview mirror. "I would recommend you turn off you phone."

Charlotte swallowed thickly and willed her heart to calm down. She took out her phone from her bag and made sure she was within sight when she powered it off, doing the same to her laptop and tablet when he asked her to.

There was more silence, and Charlotte had stopped recognizing the streets by the time she said, "I don't know anything. Steve-he doesn't tell me anything."

"I know." He said again, the smile still in place.

"There's people waiting for me at the tarmac…I'm supposed to be flying to China right now. They'll know I'm missing." She tried.

"You keep stating very obvious things." He commented, as he parked the car underneath a bridge (and Charlotte would've laughed at the cliché place if she weren't terrified enough that her hands wouldn't stop shaking).

He opened the door for her, "come on, we're taking another car."

She stepped out gingerly, knowing better than to fight at this point.

Josh grabbed her elbow and stalked her over to a black Escalade that looked to Charlotte like the fancy ones SHIELD used. The ones Steve had told her were impossible to track, bulletproof, and were loaded with Stark weaponry.

"SHIELD will probably know too," she tried, again, and Josh scoffed, almost throwing her into the back of the car, her knee hitting the door's edge and making her see stars for a second or two.

"SHIELD will not be SHIELD very soon, miss Owens," He informed her, getting into the driver's seat, and joining the freeway out the city towards Virginia. "Your Captain will find that out very soon. In the meantime, you'll work as a bit of distraction."

Charlotte flinched when the door to the room she'd been in for what felt like days opened and stood up when Clint Barton was thrown in. The steel door closed behind him.

"Are you the rescue team?" She asked. "'Cause if you are, you're already doing a subpar job."

"Hello to you too. I'm great, thanks for asking." He retorted, frowning down at the cut in his arm.

"I'm sorry," she amended, "this is my first time in captivity. Don't know the proper etiquette yet."

Clint snorted and looked up at her. Her right knee was sporting a nasty bruise, and he could see various scrapes on her shins and arms. There were distinct finger imprints around her neck, a busted lower lip, and deep purple rings underneath her eyes, but no obvious signs of blood.

She wasn't the worse he'd seen.

"Anybody ever tell you you're not s'possed to fight back?" He asked her casually, groaning as he lowered himself to the grown, adjusting so that he was leaning against the wall.

"Haven't read the guidelines on kidnapping yet." She responded, sitting next to him, her shoulder touching his, and he could feel her trembling.

"I'll lend you my copy when we get outta here," he said.

She laughed with a hint of mania in it, before her laughter became hyperventilation.

"Alright…" he said, guiding her head between her knees, and patting at her back. He found her hand and held it, letting her squeeze it hard, and muttering quiet alrights, telling her to focus on breathing.

"I don't like this," she finally said from in between her keens, and he could tell she was crying. "They said Steve's dead." And the sobs started.

"He's…" Well, ok, Clint didn't actually know whether he was dead or not. He knew Fury was supposedly dead, but the man had been the one to call Clint to tell him that he needed to extract Charlotte from a warehouse somewhere in South Carolina, informing him that the Captain was otherwise preoccupied.

Clint almost called him every name under the sun (what kind of man outsourced saving his girl if he was able to save her?!) until he received a call from Natasha telling him what had gone down in D.C. and to inform him Steve was rather unresponsive in a hospital bed.

So he didn't tell her Steve was fine, just said, "he's in the hospital."

She turned to look at him through tear filled eyes, deep bruises under them, before she nodded, took a deep breath and seemed to get a hold of herself.

"They're speaking Russian, I think…all I can understand is HYDRA. Steve told me a bit about it." She mentioned, changing the subject.

"It's a shit-show," he summarized, and she nodded, her arms around her knees, no care to the fact she was wearing a skirt. Decorum went out the door when kidnapped.

The steel door suddenly opened, and two water bottles and a loaf of bread were rolled towards them before it closed.

"You eaten anything yet?" He asked, and she shook her head. "Good. First thing to know about being kidnapped is that you don't eat anything they give you unless your body tells you you're about to die. You never know what might be in there." He said, looking at the water bottle. "Even if it's sealed."

"I figured," she muttered. "Hey, not to complain, but also, yes I'm complaining…you got yourself caught."

"I got a plan. Give me…" he did the math only a trained assassin like himself could do, "three minutes and sixteen seconds, and you'll see."

"Like, explosions?"

He hummed, getting up and stretching. "I suggest you stretch because you are about to do some hard-core running pretty soon. Stay behind me at all times, and do everything I say. And I mean everything, Charlotte." Charlotte nodded, but Clint grabbed her forearms and looked straight at her widened eyes. "I mean it. If I tell you to leave me behind, you high tail it outta here. Just run North. A blue Chevy truck will meet you three miles from here. Got it?"

"Yeah," she breathed, and let out a shaky laugh. "I'm not entirely sure I've ever done that much cardio in my life."

"The adrenaline will kick in." He told her, grabbing her arm and guiding her to the furthest corner of the room from where the explosions would come from, tucking her against the corner, and covering her back with his body when the last explosion opened a hole through their door.

Yelling could be heard, and rushed footsteps heading their way.

"Come on!" Clint yelled, knowing her ears would be ringing from the explosions just as his were, grabbing her arm, and pulling her towards the hole on the wall, leading them through debris and dust clouds towards where he knew the exit was.

They tripped over a body and he cursed, Charlotte's "holy shit!" dying in her lips when he pulled her up with him, quickly scavenging the body in front of him for weapons. He came up with a handgun which he put in Charlotte's hand, and an automatic, which he put under his arm while he dug around for the grenades he knew the dead guy was carrying. Finding them and quickly stuffing them into the pockets of his jacket, he grabbed the automatic in his hand and began inspecting it, asking Charlotte if she knew how to use her handgun.

"Nope. Nah, I'm good. I don't want one." She said, throwing the gun towards him and he cursed, catching it before it hit the ground.

"What the fuck! Take it." He forced it into her hand and closed her cold, clammy fingers around it. "When someone points one at you, you do the same and shoot, got it? Don't hold it too close to your face, use both hands, and clench up. And for the love of everything, do no-I repeat, do not-close your eyes. Any amount of aiming will do the job."

She was shaking her head before he even finished, a panicked look on her face, "I don't wanna kill anybody, please, I-"

"Aim for the thigh," he interrupted, grabbing her chin with his empty hand and making her look at him. "I won't let it come to that. This is just a precaution. Tell me you'll use it if you need to."

He waited until she nodded her head and he let go of her chin to take her empty hand in his and started tugging her towards the exit again.

They sidled through the clearing dust, hiding in shadows as men with guns (way bigger guns than the ones in their hands) ran past them, yelling orders in Russian and English alike, before they could see a light to the outside, where Charlotte could tell it was late night.

"Stay close," Clint told her, linking his arm through hers and pulling her at a rapid pace towards the open hole.

And it was way too easy. They came upon nobody as they closed in on the hole, and were able to climb out of it fairly easy, Clint pulling her at a sprint towards the cover of trees heading North. Even in the cover, he pulled her, only stopping to curse when he heard the unmistakable crunch of bone breaking, Charlotte giving a wail before her weight collapsed onto him. Her left ankle was a goner, and he almost chided her for wearing heels until he reminded himself she didn't choose her outfit for her kidnapping.

He took her empty hand and pushed it against her mouth, shushing her as her eyes filled with pained tears.

"I know it hurts, but we need to run. Grab onto me, we just have like a mile or so to go." He said, putting his arm around her, her own arm going around his shoulder.

They moved relatively slower then, Charlotte breathing in roughly through her nose, and grinding her teeth every time her foot would jostle. At one point, she hit his arm for him to stop, and she took off the heel of the rapidly swelling and purpling foot, panting into her forearm as she did so.

They finally made it to the pick-up truck, where Sharon Carter was waiting for them. She helped Clint get Charlotte into the truck by grabbing unto the underside of her other arm and hauling her up.

They rode in silence for a long time, Charlotte's hard breathing reminding them of her broken ankle.

"So," it was Charlotte who broke the silence, "I was under the impression you were a nurse, Sharon. Or is that even your name?"

"I was working for SHIELD. Not a nurse. And yes, I am still Sharon," she replied, her eyes on the road.

"Should've known," she mumbled under her breath. "Do you know anything about Steve?"

Sharon turned to make quick eye contact with Clint, and he nodded.

"He's in the hospital under a ridiculous amount of morphine. It's…sort of working."

"What does that mean?"

"His metabolism burns through it very quickly. There's only so much the doctors can pump into his body before he burns it off. He's been in and out of consciousness since they found him yesterday."

"But not dead." Charlotte said with a sigh.

"Nah. Cap's too stubborn headed to let go without beating himself up about the fact it wasn't him saving his girl." Clint interjected, getting a small smiled out of Charlotte.

"I know you guys are hungry and need to be checked out, but we've got to get to D.C. first," Sharon told them after much more silence.

"'s fine," Charlotte mumbled, her head thrown back against the headrest, her breathing a bit raspy.

Clint just grunted.

Natasha was the first familiar face Charlotte saw from her hospital bed, where she was trying to argue with her nurse that she was fine enough to be discharged. Sharon and Clint had dropped her off, and ran off to "put out fires," and whether those were real or figurative, Charlotte still wasn't sure.

"You look half dead," Natasha said by way of greeting, sitting at the edge of the hospital bed, the nurse scurrying off before Charlotte started arguing again.

"You should see the other guys," Charlotte responded, almost on automatic before she followed it up with, "they won't tell me whether Steve is in this hospital or not."

"He's a floor up."

And Charlotte visibly deflated, reclining hard against the fluffed pillows, her left ankle in a black cast, elevated slightly by a pillow.

"I heard you didn't have to have an operation."

"Yup. I get this fashionable, black cast, though. I'll ask for your autograph when I get metallic markers," Charlotte answered, and Natasha could see the exhaustion clear in her eyes and voice.

There was a drip which had to be pumping pain medication into her system, but the woman seemed to be fighting hard against the pull of sleep.

Natasha smiled internally to herself. She'd met the woman a couple of times, had not even had very friendly conversations with her, but knew her to be a stubborn one. If she had ever threatened the woman it was because SHIELD had wanted clean hands when something happened to her-she had been told she was in danger, and she had done nothing, would be SHIELD's defense if Charlotte ever got hurt.

Natasha didn't hate Charlotte, and actually didn't think the woman hated her either. It was more like Charlotte treated her with a bit of apprehension now, and Natasha couldn't blame her.

And it wasn't like Charlotte hadn't tried to be friendly, at least. Ever since their move to D.C., where Natasha was also stationed, working alongside Steve, the Captain had extended Charlotte's invitation to dinner with them on more than one occasion. She always declined, not wanting to make Charlotte uncomfortable in her own home, and, at any rate, at least the first time, Natasha believed Steve had been the one going behind Charlotte's back and inviting her without the other woman's permission. Until Steve showed up the day after she would decline his invitation with leftovers, and slices of pie from Charlotte, always with a sticky note on the Tupperware that read, in chicken scratch "You missed out! Maybe next time!".

But Natasha kept her distance.

"You've eaten?" She asked Charlotte, and she nodded, pointing to the discarded hospital tray, untouched greens still on the plate.

"My parents…"

"They're on a flight right now. Clint's picking them up in about an hour or so." Natasha informed her, and Charlotte cursed.

"You know, they loved Steve up until they found out he's Captain America. Now my mother acts like she's being casual about it, but is freaking out about it on the inside, and my father is just being an asshole about it all…this is going to be a shitshow."

Natasha didn't say anything, and Charlotte sighed.

"I was watching CNN earlier, and they were doing a segment on the timeline of the events that happened while I was otherwise…occupied," Charlotte said with a wry smile, "and, from my understanding, my home is riddled with bullet holes right now."

Natasha nodded.

"Is Timber alright?" Charlotte asked, her voice catching in her throat like she was going to cry.

"He's hanging out with the guys at the VA," Natasha said trying to smile reassuringly. She wasn't sure it looked like it. "And Sam volunteered his home for you guys to stay while you figure everything out."

"Ok." Charlotte said, a sob escaping her. "Ok…and Steve…he's ok?"

"He's going to be," Natasha responded, pushing as much conviction into her voice as she could. "He's been in and out of it…he keeps mumbling something that might be your name."

The woman sniffed, and suddenly asked, "Did he know I was…?"

"You were taken because HYDRA thought they might use you as a distraction," Natasha paused. "Director Fury thought it best to keep him focused on the task at hand. That's why Clint was called in."

Charlotte nodded, her eyes downcast for a pregnant minute before she looked up with bright and earnest brown eyes, catching Natasha's own. "Do you have friends, Natasha?"

"Friendships, they're…complicated in our world."

"I don't. I mean, not strong ones. I have friends…just, not ones I can talk to about all this."

Natasha didn't respond, but sat closer to Charlotte, who grabbed her hand when she was near enough. Natasha froze, but squeezed it after a few seconds.

"There are two other women I know, besides myself, that know what the fuck is going on with all of this…and I don't see why we're not friends." She added, "plus, women friendships are empowering, and amazing, and all that is right with the world."

Natasha gave her a weak smile, and Charlotte, as if encouraged added, "and we get to have unabashed bitching sessions, where we don't judge each other about our first world problems."

"Everything is, as you put it, a shitshow." Natasha started, squeezing the other woman's hand in hers. "But maybe later, we can go get drunk together…and have a bitching session."

Charlotte grinned, "And don't think I won't remember. I'm going to be so annoying, reminding you about what you just said."

Natasha took her hand away and stood up, "I take it back." She said, but made sure to add a small smirk to it. "I'll see what I can do about getting you out of here."

"Ms. Owens?" A young nurse poked her head into Steve's room, where Charlotte was trying and failing to remember the password to her email so that she could log into it from Natasha's laptop, which the woman had let her borrow for the day. "There's a man that says he's Tony Stark on the phone at the nurse's station for you."

"I forgot I was employed!" She whispered to the nurse as she passed by on crutches, leaving the laptop by Steve's feet.

The nurse gave a confused laugh, but followed her out the room.

"I can explain," She said as way of answering the phone. "And it's a real good one."

"Save it. I got the gist of it already." Tony responded, his own voice sounding tired. "You alright?"

"I'm ok. I got a really cool cast out of it…so. How about you?" Charlotte asked.

The past week seemed to have just been, as everyone seemed to be putting it, a complete shitshow. Once Charlotte's parents had ran their voices hoarse trying to explain to her why Steve was a danger, she had told them to go back home if that was all they were here for. Her father had clenched his jaw, and stormed out of Sam's house, and her mother had merely shook her head. They had stayed, but Charlotte was not on very good speaking terms with them right now.

So she spent most of her time by Steve's bedside (not that she wouldn't have otherwise), Sam or Natasha sometimes joining her, and had caught the news when they were reporting that Tony Stark was dead as her and Natasha sat watching T.V.

She had cried, and hadn't even been able to even begin to come up with what to say when she would call Pepper. It turned out Pepper was on her own adventures, and wasn't answering her own phone. Meanwhile, Charlotte cried because while Tony was eccentric at best, and a dick at worst, her boss to boot, she considered him her friend. And as she waddled in her own self-pity and tears, Tony Stark was suddenly alive after the second day of his death making headlines. Charlotte had cried some more.

"Fine." He answered.

"I'm sorry-"

"For what?"

"I don't know," she answered with a watery smile that she knew he wouldn't see. God, she'd been crying way too much lately.

"And Cap?"

"He took a beating, but he should be coming back anytime now. The doctors are pumping less and less morphine every day."

"I thought his body metabolized them too quickly for that to even be effective." He said, not a question, in true Tony Stark fashion.

"Yeah, it's insane the amount they're pumping into his system to begin with. They tried to get him completely off, but he's in too much pain to not do anything about it. Lots of internal stuff that they can't operate on since they don't want to risk putting him under, so they're hoping his body repairs itself. And it is. Just slower than we would like."

"I'll talk to Bruce, maybe we can start coming up with something for the future." Tony said and cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, I'm pulling out. But I can help in that aspect."

Charlotte understood what he meant.

"Whatever makes you happy, Tony," she said, and meant it. "You'll always be Tony Stark, either way."

Tony cleared his throat again, "which means I am still your boss," and Tony's bravado was back, "so I get to tell you to take your time. Job's still there for you. I'll send you new tech, since I hear your HYDRA bodyguard destroyed them, and you tell me when you're ready. No rush."

"Thank you, Tony." She said, but added in a rush, "I'm homeless right now, by the way, so if you could just send it to Sam's address." She gave him the address, knowing Jarvis on his phone would catch it.

And it wasn't like she was really homeless. The apartment was still there, but she had refused (and had been advised not to, anyway, by Natasha) to stay there since it was riddled with bullet holes everywhere, their living room in shambles, bloodstains on the hard wood floor that no one had bothered to clean up, and caution tape everywhere. The most she had been willing to do was go into her and Steve's room and retrieve the essentials, making a note to buy Timber a whole new dog bed.

"The tower still has plenty of rooms, if you guys need 'em." Tony reminded her before they said their goodbyes and hung up.

She heard jazz music coming from Steve's room as she slowly made her way towards it on her crutches, and she guessed that Sam must've come in sometime while she was on the phone with Tony.

"Act dead," she heard Sam say furtively before she walked into the room, the man sitting way too casually to be casual, pretending to read a book upside down.

She narrowed her eyes at him as he greeted her. "What?" he asked, his eyes not meeting hers.

"Who were you talking to?"

"Nobody." He answered way too quickly. "Not Steve."

From her peripheral, she saw Steve's lips twitch.

Her eyes widen, and she poked his thigh with a crutch before she made her way to the bed. "Is he awake?" and almost immediately, "are you awake?" she asked, sitting on his bed (taking care not to jostle him too much), and grabbing his hand.

"You said you were going to kill Natasha or me if we were the ones Steve woke up to!" Sam said, drawing up his arms in peace at the same time Steve croaked, "hey, doll," with a fading boyish smile as the pain was still evident.

She almost sobbed, but choked on it instead, bringing the hand she was holding to her face. She counted to ten to calm her own trembling hands, and the relieved sobs trying to wrack through her form, before looking up again at distraught blue eyes.

"Who'd you beat up?" He asked gently, his arm coming up to graze at her busted lip before brushing lightly against the ones on her neck, his brow furrowed in that way of his.

"I got into a bit of a pickle with some HYDRA guys," she said lightly, jumping into action and adjusting the bed so he could sit up enough to drink water. She thrust the straw into his mouth before he could speak. "Drink, then talk."

Sam waved at them goodbye and promised to bring them dinner later, waving away Charlotte's gratitude.

"What happened, Charlotte?"

"Josh was HYDRA." She stated, playing with his fingers in her lap. She heard rather than saw Steve take a steading breath. "Long story short, the fuckers thought I would be a good distraction while everything happened here, but the joke was on them because I wasn't…so."

"I didn't-"

"I know!" She said quickly, looking up and seeing Steve's troubled face. "I know. Clint found me."

Steve reclined his head against the pillows behind him, eyes staring up, and Charlotte could feel how upset he was. "I thought you were in China…I even left a voicemail thinking you were busy…and the time zones…" He turned to her then, earnest, anguished blue eyes turned to capture hers, his hands grabbing onto hers. "I am so sorry."

"For what? It's not your fault. You didn't know. And even if you had, can you really tell me you'd let everything that could have happened happen just because you were trying to rescue one of me? The math doesn't add up."

Charlotte wasn't stupid. She loved Steve, knew that he loved her, but she was realistic enough to know how math worked for superheroes. For soldiers. How could saving one of her justify letting a hundred others die?

"Don't," and Steve looked hurt that she would even say that. "Don't you dare say that, Charlotte. It's you first. Always."

A choked sob slipped, and the tears slipped. "Well, then you're stupider than I thought."

Steve pulled her until her head was leaning against his shoulder, careful of his injuries. "My brand of stupid is unmeasurable, then. Because I mean it."

They sat in silence for several minutes, Steve eventually leaning his head against hers, the honey smell of her hair calming him.

"You promised me you would try," she whispered against his shoulder. "You promised, and it feels like you didn't even try."

"I never try to die on purpose, doll," he responded in his own whisper.

"That's not what I said," she pulled her head up to look at him with sad brown eyes, a consistent, treacherous trail of tears running down her face, emphasizing the dark rings underneath them. "You promised you would try your hardest to come home to me at the end of the day. You didn't, and you can't deny it because Natasha released everything online…and there are recorded comm conversations…you let him almost kill you."

A beat of think silence.

"I had to try," he told her, his eyes demanding that she understand. "Bucky remembered me."

Charlotte shook her head, giving a watery laugh. "I want to punch you so bad."

"Have at it. This is probably the only time it will actually hurt." He said, a small smile growing on his lips, widening when Charlotte laugh again.

"I don't hit the old and sickly," she sassed back, running a gentle hair through his messy hair, her face turning sad again.

"Bucky…I read what I could find on the files online, which wasn't much on him, but…he'll need a lot of help."

"Which is why I need-"

"I know. Just…just keep the stupid to a reasonable level, please. I don't want to be by your hospital bedside again for at least fifty more decades." Charlotte said in that Charlotte way of hers.

Sure, they would have talks about this later, but for now, she was calm and steady (given the situation) Charlotte, who took everything in stride, and who asked only that he make promises he could keep.

"You planning on outliving me?" He asked, running his thumb along her knuckles.

"Nah…I just wanna grow old with you."