A whole hour passes before Maria realizes that she is shivering. She's standing the circle of Rogers's arms, which stopped being awkward after about three seconds when she realized that he was warm and then went right back to being awkward three seconds later when she realized he was…well, warm.
She thinks she might feel better if he was talking. If this was Stark (and she is very, very glad this isn't Stark), he would keep up a running commentary about the entire experience, and she would hate it, but at least she be able to focus on how aggravating his voice gets when he's baiting her. Rogers says nothing, and she thinks about his arms and his shoulders and, when her mind drifts sufficiently, she thinks about how she doesn't actually mind that there are armed commandos at all, because it's led to this.
Those thoughts are typically followed by an abrupt turn back into professionalism, but as she gets colder, it's harder to pay attention.
"This isn't working," says Rogers.
"What?" says Maria, and then she is very grateful she didn't say something like 'I know'.
"I'm starting to cool down a bit as well," he tells her. "And you've been shivering for a while now. This isn't enough."
"Oh," she says, mostly inside her own head but probably a little bit out loud too, because she's distracted.
He lets her go, and the drop in temperature is immediate. It's like being hit by cold water or a stiff breeze, and she realizes how cold she's been the whole time, without being aware of it. She wraps her arms around herself and sticks her hands under her arms.
Rogers surveys the room, and then takes her elbow and pulls her over to the corner. They'll be able to see out of the observation room window, and they'll have a clear line to the door. Rogers presses his shoulders up against the wall and sinks down, his legs extending impossible far from the wall once he's sitting because he's too tall to sit cross legged.
"C'mere," he says.
He's still wearing his mask, so she can't tell if he's blushing, and her skin is already red from cold, so it doesn't matter if she does either. He pulls her down so that her back rests against his chest, and she is sitting in what could, theoretically, be considered his lap, except she's actually sitting on the floor. Her thermal pants are enough to prevent the cold of the concrete from seeping into her bones, and when Rogers wraps his arms around her again, the relief from the chill is so sudden that she almost cries.
"I'm sorry about all this," Rogers says.
"I really don't think it's your fault, Captain Rogers," she says. "I'm the one who set my pack down right before we were attacked."
"You needed both hands," he points out. "I could have held it for you."
"Then you wouldn't have had your gun," she reminds him. "And we'd probably be dead."
"Good point," he allows.
"Let's just agree to blame the bad guys, and leave some things out when we write our report for Fury," she says. She's almost laughing, in spite of everything, and it makes her feel warmer for a moment.
"Agreed," he says, though she suspects his agreement is less to keep Fury from finding out, and more to prevent Stark from reading it after he hacks the file. "You can probably call me Steve now, though," he says after a moment. "I mean, we're teammates anyway and we're…here."
She doesn't think calling him by his given name is going to help her maintain her professional façade, but it does seem silly to cling to formality given their current situation. Given the fact that there are other things to which she would rather cling. She steps on that thought pretty fast.
"So cold bothers Captain America?" she asks.
"Cold bothers Steve Rogers," Steve says. "Captain America is usually moving pretty quickly and tends not to focus on that kind of detail."
"It must be very odd being two people," Maria says, even though it makes her a great deal more comfortable. If Steve is different, then he doesn't have to be an Avenger all the time.
"You get used to it," he says. "The mask helps."
"I wondered if the cold might affect you because of, you know," she hesitates. His arms tighten.
"I don't remember being cold," Steve says.
"Really?" she says.
"In the ice. All those years. I don't remember it," he says. He relaxes again, and his breath slides past her ear. She shivers and it has nothing to do with the cold. "So don't worry, agent. I'm not about to have a traumatic flashback."
"Well that's something," Maria says. "Also, if I am going to call you Steve, you can call me Maria. When we're not at work, anyway."
"We're not at work?" he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. She hadn't meant to do that, to cheer him up. It's not her job.
But they're not at work.
"There's work and there's work," she says. "You work with Tony Stark, so you should understand that."
"That's true enough," Steve says.
He rests his chin on the top of her head, and she tries to come up with a logical reason for him to do that, but she can't. Maybe he gets a better sight line. Maybe he's trying to stay awake. Maybe…
She can't come up with a logical reason to press back against him, either, except that it allows her a better angle to get to her sidearm in a hurry. It's a pretty weak excuse, but she doesn't let that stop her.
TBC…