Archive of Our Own

Then.

When their building okayed Steve Rogers to have his own laundry machine set up in his own unit, S.H.I.E.L.D. wasted no time in escalating the approval and coordination in getting him one.

Sharon supposed it was because he was Steve Rogers.

• Occupation: Captain America. 
• Weapon: Vibranium Shield.
• Status: Alive. 
• Was: Frozen for seventy years.
• Now: A confused, non-retired veteran.

And her? Well.. she was Sharon Carter.

• Current Cover Occupation: Nurse. 
• Station: Apartment 3.
• Was: A strategic field agent and spy, S.H.I.E.LD. 
• Now: A neighbor

She wasn't happy for the most part. She supposed Fury had his reasons, good reasons, she knew, for choosing her for this mission. Sharon understood that much, but she also couldn't shake off that this was a downgrade. She was no babysitter.

Still, she was a professional, so she played her part well. 

They had a few run-ins here and there. Mostly it was a few simple hellos.

Steve was friendly, though a little shy, but he was polite and respectful. She figured he would be. She heard many stories from her Aunt Peggy, she'd taken history, and she read his profile, but the one thing she hadn't expected was for him to be so normal.

Their conversations were light, and she told him she was a nurse, welcomed him to the building, and he fumbled with his words and told her he was a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that specialized in--what did he say again? Battle strategies? That wasn't even a division.

She grinned, and she made a sound that resembled a gasp of surprise and awe. He smiled back and was perfectly content with his cover occupation.

Alas, more conversations between them were meant to be, and she didn't know what it was about laundry that somehow tied the both of them together. She didn't even like laundry.

Steve was a nice man, like she said, so when the delivery for his laundry machine arrived, she was sent orders to advise and look after him. S.H.I.E.L.D. was still monitoring his strength, though Sharon never understood that part. He participated in the Battle of New York and fought aliens. What did they need to measure exactly?

That aside, Steve waved off the delivery men and insisted on carrying the washing machine up the stairs on his own. It was a few flights, and Sharon made an appearance, pretending to be on the way to the laundry room herself. 

Considering how heavy that machine was, and how it was hauled on his shoulder, she was surprised that he handled it with ease, so the worried and surprised look on her face had been genuine. 

Steve gave her a warm smile and mumbled some excuse about not worrying, that he wouldn't break his back, and that he'd carried laundry machines before. 

He wasn't a very good liar.

In the days that followed, Sharon timed her morning run when she heard him fumbling with locking his door. She slipped out of her unit to catch him. 

"Good morning." She gave him her best smile. 

He wasn't very good at fighting the redness in his cheeks. "Good morning," he said back. 

• Ten fingers? Check. 
• Head still attached? Check. 
• Speech? Check.. sort of. 
• Choice in clothing? It could use some work. Half a check. 
• Overall? 6/10. 

Only Fury would understand the humor behind this report. 

Sharon tightened the tie of her ponytail, and was actually prepared to go jogging, when she heard him shuffling his feet side to side. 

• Morning anxiety? Check.

"Kate?"

Her cheek dimpled. "Yes?"

"You wouldn't happen to know where the switch to turn on the washing machine is, would you?" A pretty pink color spread across his nose.

Her eyebrows furrowed. Switch? 

"Did you try tapping on the screen?" she asked.

His lips parted in a beautiful, "O," and he rubbed the back of his neck. "The touch screen. Right. I've heard of those. Very useful."

• Adjusting to modern technology? Minus a check.

"They sure are," she sang. 

To be fair, he looked thoroughly embarrassed.

He was out for a mission the next few weeks, so Sharon was able to relax and wander around the halls of Triskelion, no problem.

She may have taken her time even when she received a text from Natasha Romanoff about Steve returning that afternoon. 

Sharon badly needed the time away, so when she was an hour late, she came up the stairs to the landing of their doors to find water all over the floors. 

She squinted, following the trail of bubbles that led to Apartment 4. She sniffed. It smelled clean. Very clean. 

She sighed, and knocked.

"Steve, is everything okay over there?" she called out.

The door swung open, and Sharon held back a laugh. He was holding a mop, and he was drenched. 

"It said fill to 1. It didn't mean one cup, did it?" 

She gave him a lopsided smile. Maybe she'd omit that from her report.

The next incident was when she felt thoroughly frustrated that her request for transfer was denied. Fury, that bastard. 

She was dragging her feet up the stairs when Steve was coming down with his duffle bag strap slung over his one shoulder. He gave her a bashful smile and waved his hand. 

Sharon thought he looked good in that pink shirt.

As it turned out, the rest of the week saw him in nothing but a few pink items. She saw it in his socks too. Yes, she had to be that observant. 

Call it her OCD, so one day, after seeing him come up early in the morning with some shopping bags of men's apparel, and then later that afternoon when said apparel became pink, she decided to play hero.

Another timed effort had them cross paths in the landing. This time, she pretended to be in the middle of hanging up on a phone call. 

"I swear, everytime you get a little personal time is when work decides to call," she was saying. It was to herself, but it really wasn't, because she meant for him to respond.

Steve slipped his keys into his pockets. "Evening shift again?"

Again? Was he keeping tabs? She'd need to file that in her report. 

"Yeah. So much for enjoying the weather." Yes, weather talk was always appropriate and a good way to start a conversation, but she had other plans. "That color looks good on you by the way." 

He let out a light laugh, patting his stomach. "I may have fumbled on that one," he said. "Everytime I use the laundry machine, my white shirts come out in this color."

She should win best actress, because she gave him a look that she couldn't even remember, and he took to looking at his shoes.

"Did you leave something red in the washing machine?" she asked.

Steve blinked. "Something red?" He blinked a few more times and glanced at his closed door.

Turns out, he did. But Sharon already knew that.

He knocked on her door the next day and held up a red tie, a defeated smile on his face.

"I found the something red."

Cute.

The last thing Sharon needed after climbing up the fire escape of her building in the early morning one day, was narrowly dodging Steve Rogers as he hung his clothing on a line in his balcony.

There was a reason she used the fire escape. She needed to avoid him when she was dressed in her stealth suit. 

Luckily for her, he was preoccupied with hanging full on drenched clothing on the flimsy line. She cringed to herself as she watched, half hanging on the brick ledge. 

When he finally returned inside, satisfied with his work, she continued climbing up and around to her own window where she slumped on the couch. 

Later that afternoon, she eyed his door, choosing to head downstairs to the grocery store to pick up a few items. She'd be thirty minutes tops. Apparently he liked pie, so the agenda for the day was to bake him one to start a conversation on his eating habits. 

He was lucky she liked to cook.

Unfortunately for Sharon, she didn't make it very far, because as she stepped onto the sidewalk, she felt something wet smack her in the face. 

Grumbling, she detached herself from the damp article of clothing, that on a closer look, turned out to be a pair of boxers. 

She glanced up at his balcony where the line had broken off. A few of his shirts were hanging down the fire escape, and his underwear apparently chose her as a source of entertainment.

Wait.. that didn't sound right.

Knocking on his door to return his boxers wasn't a part of her cover. No. Sharon just felt bad for the poor fellow. That, and she was beginning to think it was adorable that a war hero was struggling with his laundry so damned much. Plus, the fidgeting and blushing was a nice touch. 

He was an attractive man after all.

Steve answered the door with a smile on his face. He was always smiling at her. 

"Hi, Kate. How are you?"

"I'm good," she said, feeling a little awful now that she was about to return something so personal. "Sorry to bother you."

He huffed a laugh under his breath and shook his head. "You're not bothering me at all," he said. 

Sharon pressed her lips together. "I was just heading out, and I saw that your clothing line fell apart outside."

Steve's eyes widened, and he looked over his shoulder. "It did?"

She nodded. "Anyway, I thought I'd return these." She held up his underwear and watched his face turn different shades of red. "Seems important to have."

He snatched it from her very quickly, and it disappeared behind his back. "Oh, I, um, yes, it is. It's swell." 

• Adorable? Check.

His face was still red. "Thanks for returning it," he managed.

Sharon tried to give him her most supportive smile. "Is there a reason you're hanging your clothes up? Are you saving on electricity?"

Steve opened his mouth and closed it a few times. His brows furrowed, and he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. "Well, I-- The dryer was malfunctioning."

Her eyebrows shot up.

• Rogers needs a new dryer. Check.

"Oh, okay. Yeah, it happens with new machines. Hopefully it's still under warranty," she told him.

He nodded. "I hope so too. Maybe I can just get a new lint tray. That might be better than bringing it in." 

Sharon blinked. Lint tray?

"It's telling you to clean the lint tray?"

He bobbed his head, the smile back on his face.

Her eyes skirted around back and forth. "Did you try to remove it? It's pretty easy to clean, and it should work again after you're done."

Steve paused, his eyes moving up to think. "No. Where is that again?"

It was the first time she entered his unit… with him present. 

Showing him the hidden lint compartment was the easy part. It was the way his eyes sparkled and the laughter that vibrated in his chest that had Sharon's own stomach fluttering. 

"Thank you, Kate. I owe you one."

She ducked her head. "I'll put it on the list."

Now.

"And that's how I discovered your underwear size." 

Steve saw no use in controlling the rushing heat in his face. He clamped a hand over his eyes, and she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He buried his face in her shoulder.

"Isn't it nice to reminisce?" Sharon grinned, twirling his boxers in between her fingers. "So I don't care what you say. You're definitely not a medium."