Work Text:
Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap, rap, rap!
If it had been one knock at the door, or even two separated by a polite 60 to 90 seconds of silence, Bucky probably would have ignored whoever had bothered to climb the eight flights of stairs up to his apartment. But it wasn’t just one knock. It was an uninterrupted fast incessant rapping that rattled his door and the extra locks he had installed enough to set an echo bouncing around his dehydrated skull.
Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap, rap!
Bucky groaned and rolled out of the pile of blankets on his floor. He hadn’t really been sleeping anyway, just fruitlessly trying to doze after sleepless hours of darkness fending off trauma fueled nightmares.
“Alright, alright!” he yelled at the door but whoever was knocking couldn’t hear over their own racket.
Bucky peered through the rattling peep hole. He pulled back, rubbed his eyes and blinked rapidly before checking again. No, his first look hadn’t been a fluke. There was a beautiful dark skinned young woman in a sporty stylish white and red outfit continuing to beat rapidly against the wood.
Bucky wrenched the door open, completely forgetting he was wearing nothing but a pair of loose running shorts.
“What are you doing here?” He demanded, too shocked to be polite.
“Really?” Princess Shuri gave his bedraggled appearance an up and down glance. “This is how you greet me? After all this time!” Without waiting for an invitation she shouldered her way past him into his apartment. He was too stunned to resist, and Shuri could usually walk all over him anyway.
“Wha— what are you doing in New York?” He stumbled over his words. “How do you know where I—”
“I’m not allowed to drop in for a visit?” She asked with mock hurt, turning around in the middle of the main room, scanning his blank walls with disappointment.
“Usually people call ahead when they’re coming…”
Bzzzzt! Bzzzzt! Bzzzzt!
“Don’t answer that!” Shuri cried, stepping between Bucky and the pile of blankets on the floor that was his bed where his phone was gently vibrating with an incoming call. The image of a wide eyed black kitten that Shuri herself had set as T’Challa’s profile picture bounced up and down on the screen.
“Why not? Are you in trouble?”
“Pffft!” Shuri rolled her eyes and made a dismissive sound. “No more than usual.”
“Shuri,” Bucky glanced back towards the door, realizing he hadn’t seen any of the Dora in the hallway. “Who came here with you?”
“Usually people offer their guests drinks,” She deflected, heading for his refrigerator.
“Shuri! Who’s here with you?”
“You are, obviously.”
“Shuri! Tell me you didn’t ditch the Dora again! You can’t keep doing this. It isn’t safe! ”
“Please! I’m with the White Wolf . I’m perfectly safe.”
“Shuri! Your brother’s probably out of his mind with worry if you just ran off alone in the middle of New York City! You are a princess of a foreign country and the most knowledgeable expert on vibranium alive!”
“Who has been trained in combat since I was five! I am not a helpless child who needs to be chauffeured around from one safe little bubble to another.”
“That’s not what I meant! You know that’s not what I meant!”
“Tell that to T’Challa,” Shuri slammed his fridge shut and turned around to glare at him with her head cocked to the side. “Maybe he will listen to you. Tell him I should be allowed to go where I want, make decisions about my own life, take meetings without having to get his approval every single time. If it were up to him, I would never be allowed to even leave Wakanda. We have revealed ourselves to the world, built Outreach Centers and trade agreements to share our technology, ‘joined’ the modern world, yet I am still little more than a prisoner in my lab!”
Bucky sighed heavily and ran his flesh hand through his greasy hair. He sank into the single armchair, the only real piece of furniture in his apartment.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” He asked.
“A group of physicists are meeting here in New York to work on designs for a new supercollider that could alter our understanding of the universe by measuring radiation left behind by the blip, novel cosmic radiation. Vibranium could provide structural and amplifying components that were previously impossible, narrow margins of error by… Agh! I see your glazed eyes, I’ve lost you. It doesn’t matter. The point is, T’Challa is sending someone else. It should be me. I am already here in New York working on the new Outreach Center, shaking hands and smiling for the cameras like a good little princess!” She mimed polite handshakes forced smiles mockingly, then threw her hands up in the air exasperated. “I should be going to that conference, not standing around in Galas surrounded by rich white men who pretend like they aren’t looking down at me for my gender, or my skin, or my age— or all three! But T’Challa wouldn’t hear of it. He didn’t even listen to my reasoning— all the vetting and research I have done.” She leaned against the countertop with slumped shoulders.
“So, what?” He asked and her head snapped up, dark eyes burning with passion.
“So, he’s being a stubborn self-righteous prick!”
“Probably.” Bucky shrugged.
“And I’m just supposed to bend to his every ridiculous whim? No! I have more self-respect than that.”
“He probably has reasons for his decision.”
“Oh yes!” She nodded emphatically and leveled a slender finger at him. “Spite! That is his reason. I didn’t tell him I was planning to go—”
“Because you knew he wouldn’t like it,” Bucky interjected.
“So he’s sending someone else just to spite me! He told me, if I didn’t like it I might as well come home. So I told him he could,” Shuri launched into a creative description in Xhosa of the things T’Challa could put in certain places to express her opinion of his mandate.
Bucky sighed heavily and let his chin drop towards his chest, thinking: I didn’t get nearly enough sleep to be dealing with this.
Bzzzzt! Bzzzzt! Bzzzzt!
On the floor his phone started buzzing again with the kitten icon bouncing up and down. Shuri glared at the device like her eyes could set it alight with force of will. Bucky rubbed his forehead and tapped the arm of the chair with his vibranium fingers.
“Alright,” he said. “I’m gonna give you a deal. I tell T’Challa you’re safe with me,” Bucky held up a hand to hold off her protests before Shuri even got her mouth half open, “and we go get lunch somewhere the Dora won’t be looking for us until you both have a chance to cool off. That way T’Challa knows you’re safe, but the Dora won’t be dragging you back to Wakanda by force. I’ll even let you pick where we get lunch. Deal?”
Shuri frowned and narrowed her eyes at him, arms crossed over her chest and boot tapping on the floor.
“Fine,” she relented, taking the olive branch he was offering.
Bucky scooped his phone off the floor and sent a quick text to the King of Wakanda:
[She’s with me. She’s safe. Catching up over lunch.]
He figured that was sufficient. The Dora would undoubtedly be waiting outside his building when they got back. He could only hope that one lunch outing in New York was enough time for the two royals to cool off. At the very least he was going to get some coffee before he had to deal with that. The phone buzzed almost immediately with a reply and several follow up messages in quick succession:
[Where?]
[Tell her the conversation is not over]
[And this is not acceptable behavior]
[The Dora will come for her immediately]
Bucky’s eyebrows raised and he mouthed ‘wow’ looking at Shuri with a comic wide eyed expression.
“You really made him mad.”
She rolled her eyes and kicked at his shin. “Hurry up and get dressed before I go blind staring at your pasty white-self. I want sushi.”
“Sushi?” There went his dreams of coffee. “Fine. But you’re buying,” Bucky shot over his shoulder as he disappeared into his disused bedroom to dig a passably cleen shirt out of his laundry pile.
The tea served in handless mugs wasn’t coffee but it was hot and caffeinated, so it would do. Bucky let the warm liquid settle in his stomach while Shuri ordered nearly one of everything. The dim little restaurant wasn’t as cozy as Izis, but Bucky couldn’t bring himself to go back there even if they did have the best sushi in Brooklyn. Shuri would be happy enough with this knock-off.
“So,” Bucky said when the waitress walked off. “Is this gonna be a new part of my official White Wolf duties now? Mediating sibling squabbles?”
“I’m using it as an excuse to see you. You should be flattered. I invited you to come see me at the Outreach Center; Why didn’t you?”
Bucky pulled a scrunched up face of distaste. He could think of half a dozen easy excuses for why he didn’t want to do that which were much more appealing than examining his real reasons for avoiding Shuri and the Wakandans. Whether his apology had been accepted or not, every time he looked at Shuri’s messages he couldn’t help thinking about how he’d set the man who murdered her father free just a few months ago.
“Admit it,” Shuri smirked at him, warm eyes sparkling, “you put on your grumpy face but deep down, you’re happy to see me too.”
Bucky struggled to keep a straight face, hesitating for a bit too long before deflecting with:
“So did he call you right away in a spitting rage or did you find out from your Dora guards he was changing your plans?”
“He went around me of course, didn’t even bother to ask what the conference was about. I doubt he would understand it anymore than you would,” Shuri waved her hand dismissively and rolled her eyes. “But I am done talking about that.”
“Not mad anymore?”
“No. I am still mad and I have every right to be. No. I have not talked to you in months! I want to talk about something fun!”
“Oh no,” Bucky looked up at the ceiling as if some solace would be there, because ‘fun’ for Shuri usually meant painful for him.
“How are things with Sam?” She leaned forward conspiratorially.
“Fine. They’re fine.” He said, clipped.
“Have you gone to visit him again?”
“No. What about this Outreach Center in New York? I thought this one was your personal project.”
“It is, so therefore it is a complete success. Do not change the subject. Why haven’t you gone to see him? I know you haven’t gone on anymore missions. Are you keeping in touch? Do you call him? Stare at his picture? Cut out news clippings of him and draw hearts around his face?” She mimed the heart drawing with her expressive hand gestures as she talked and grinned.
“Shuri.”
“Come on! I have seen the way you look at him. You cannot tell me there is nothing going on there.”
“There is nothing going on between me and him.”
“You can’t even say his name.”
“Shuri.”
“Come on. Tell me you are at least answering his texts now.”
“Yes, yes. We text, OK? Wait, how do you know about that?”
“He reached out to me when you were ghosting everyone to see if you were alive.”
Bucky groaned and rubbed at his face with both hands.
“I apologized for that, to both of you. I wasn’t… It wasn’t personal… I needed some space.”
“I know,” Shuri said, nodding with a small understanding smile. There wasn’t a hint of bitterness or exasperation in her tone.
Bucky sighed, thankful for the millionth time that Shuri was so understanding of his closed off nature these days. So often he found himself comparing Shuri to his long-dead sister Becca, but this was one way they were thankfully very different. Becca had been more like Sam, a habitual caregiver and insatiable extrovert. Before the war Bucky hadn’t been nearly as reclusive and closed off, but he had his moments. Becca was always trying to drag him back out into the world when those moments struck, though it was usually Steve who succeeded in the end. Now there was no Steve. Instead there was Shuri showing up on his doorstep looking to him for an escape and an ally, ordering a ridiculous amount of Sushi, and pestering him about the man he was trying (and failing) not to pine over.
“Sam forgave you for that too,” Shuri reminded him.
“Yeah, he did— and the other stuff. I was a bit of an ass about the shield.”
“Sam was a bit of a fool to think the politicians would leave it locked away in a museum.”
“He couldn’t have known it would turn out like…”
“Like Walker?”
“Ugh!” Bucky shuddered at the memory of the bloody scene in Riga, shaking it off to think of the positives. “It all worked out in the end. Sam is Cap now, and the world is getting used to that. He loves the new wings by the way. You did a good job on them.”
“Of course I did. I had been waiting to rework his tech since my brother first brought him to Wakanda.”
“Yeah, I bet you’re just sorry you missed showing up Tony Stark.”
“Only a little,” Shuri shrugged. “Are you playing to my ego to keep me off topic?”
“Is it working?” He forced a hopeful smile that probably looked more like a grimace.
“You are smitten with him.” Shuri leaned back in her seat with a satisfied smirk.
“No one says smitten anymore.”
“No? Then how would you describe it?”
“I respect him.”
“The way you respect my brother?”
Bucky flinched. “Different.”
“Because you don’t want to fuck my brother.”
“Shuri!”
“Why haven’t you asked him out?”
“T’Challa? Well because as you aptly pointed out I don’t, in face, want to fuck your brother.”
“Ugh!” Shuri rolled her eyes so hard her whole head rolled and kicked him under the table. “You know who I meant!”
“Come on, Shuri. There’s about a million reasons why Sam should want nothing to do with me, not as a friend and certainly not as anything more.”
“Winter Soldier reasons do not count.”
“They absolutely count.”
“Then what was all my hard work for?”
“So I’m not a danger to anyone. Not so I can get a date.”
“But you do want to date him?”
“Shuri!”
“Just answer that one question.”
“I don’t know.” Bucky tapped his fingers on the table and looked away as he said it.
“Yes you do. You do! Admit it you—”
“Yes! Alright, yes. I want to date him— wine and dine, take him dancing, ride off into the sunset, the whole nine yards. You happy?”
“Very,” Shuri grinned like the cat who caught the canary, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest.
Bucky groaned through a sigh. At that moment the waitress reappeared with a heavy tray loaded with Shuri’s order. Bucky was quick to assist the waitress in moving the cups and soy sauce bottles out of the way. He was so focused on finding space for all the plates, he didn’t notice Shuri’s hand creeping around the table to his phone until a moment too late. Even his super fast Super Soldier reflexes couldn’t drag the device back before she had snagged it over to her side of the table.
“Hey! Give that back!” He demanded as the waitress walked away, throwing them an odd look over her shoulder.
“Why?” Shuri asked. “It’s locked right?” She tapped one of her Kimoyo beads with a fake expression of innocence. His phone vibrated and the screen came to life, unlocking before his eyes.
“Shuri!” Bucky said warningly and reached across the table. She pulled back fast enough and he ran into the edge, jostling all the laden plates loudly.
“Watch it!” Shuri said while her fingers worked furiously on the screen.
“Stop it,” Bucky growled. “Whatever you’re doing—”
“Come on, I’m helping you.”
“Shuri, I swear to god—”
“You’ll thank me.”
“Shuri!” In a lightning fast move Bucky snapped out with his right hand and Shuri dodged left. Just as quickly he plucked the phone out of her grasp with his vibranium hand.
Brrrring! Brrring!
The speakers played the calling tone and Bucky stared in horror at the icon of Sam’s face bouncing on the screen in his hand. He fumbled for the end call button but the speaker crackled before he could get it.
“Buck! What’s up?”
“Uhhh!” Bucky stared at his phone dumbly.
“Speak to me man, you ok?”
“Yeah! Yeah, fine.”
“You sure? Forgive me for being skeptical, but you never call. Like literally never.”
“I... “ Bucky scrunched up his face trying to decide if he should lie or blame Shuri, if blaming Shuri would lead to Sam asking why Shuri would call at all, if he was taking too long to answer. “I’m fine. Really. How are you?” Bucky flinched at his own stilted and stiff tone, grimacing and squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them Shuri was biting her lip and her shoulders were shaking with barely contained giggles.
“I’m fine,” Sam answered slowly, definitely suspicious.
“How are Sarah and the boys?” Bucky asked, going for the topic he thought had the best chance of keeping Sam distracted, and it worked.
“They’re good! Boat’s doing well, got it chartered and tuned up, so Sarah’s happy. Restaurant has been having a good summer. Sarah’s thinking about adding a new seating area, like a real event space which would be a boost. The boys are great. It’s their summer break so of course they’re driving Sarah crazy. Actually…” Sam hesitated, his voice getting deeper in the way it did when he was tense or nervous. “I’m glad you called. I was thinking of taking the boys on a trip— giving Sarah a bit of a break from parenting, you know. Thought they might like to see New York.”
“Yeah?” Bucky felt a treacherously hopeful smile pulling at his face, which broke into a grin when Sam continued.
“Yeah. They miss you. Been bugging me about when you’re coming back for a visit. If you’re available, maybe you can show us around your city a bit. I think they’d like that.”
“Yeah. Just… um…” Movement across the table drew Bucky’s attention while he was struggling to answer without sounding pathetically excited. “Just tell me when you’ll be here. I’ll clear my schedule.”
Shuri held out her hand with the projected screen of her Kimoyo beads showing him a message: [I can take them to the Center here. Give you and Sam some ALONE time.] The message ended with one of the Wakandan winking emojis Bucky knew had very adult and suggestive connotations.
“Great!” Sam sounded relieved when he answered. “I’ve gotta clear it with Sarah of course. I doubt she’ll argue too much. A break will do her good. Just promise you can come up with something educational to do with the boys so I can convince her it will be more than pizza and overpriced souvenirs.”
Shuri waved and pointed at her message emphatically. Bucky shook his head and tried to hold her off, but Shuri was not stopped so easily, he should have known.
“Hey Sam!”
“Shuri? A-are you...”
“I’m in New York working at the Wakandan Outreach Center. If you come soon I can take your nephews to the Kids Film Night. We show Wakandan movies and 3D projection technology to local teens every other weekend.”
“Really? That would— That would make me the coolest uncle in their eyes, seriously.”
“Oh, it would be my pleasure,” Shuri said with a smile in her voice but narrowed eyes that bored into Bucky’s soul, daring him to take the offered opportunity. And really, when was he gonna get a better one? Bucky took a deep breath, looked down at the table and forced words past his lips.
“While Shuri has the boys, I could show you the New York nightlife,” Bucky offered, feeling blood rushing into his face. It was ambiguous enough it might not be a date, but it was something. He could swear Shuri was holding her breath with him waiting for Sam to answer.
“Yeah?” Sam sounded surprised. “Gonna take me out dancing like one of your ‘dames’ back in the day?”
“I was gonna suggest dinner, but I know a few places that play decent swing music if that’s what you want.” Bucky answered, feeling oddly removed from his own body. The words didn’t feel like his own, more like a part he was playing or a covert cover.
“Dinner sounds like a good start,” Sam agreed with a laugh. Bucky felt like his lungs took in twice the usual amount of air when he inhaled, like his heart had vacated his chest and flown away. Shuri silently pumped her fist.
“Great! Uhh… yeah, great!” Bucky stuttered when he realized the silence was stretching on too long.
“Good. Then I’ll get Sarah’s Ok and send you the dates. Gotta go, I think that’s the boys getting back. I’ll talk to you later, Buck. Nice to hear from you, Shuri!” Sam tacked on his goodbye to the Princess like he’d almost forgotten she was present.
“Talk soon, Captain!” She said her farewell cheerfully.
The line didn’t cut off immediately and Bucky struggled with how to sign off from the conversation. He was saved by the beep of the call disconnecting.
“Now was that so hard?”
“Oh my god,” Bucky sighed and dropped his head with a sinking sense of deja vu. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Wha— how can you be mad at me? I’m helping you. You should be thanking me.”
“I’ll be blaming you when this goes to shit,” Bucky grumbled. Shuri ignored him and started on her feast of sushi. She somehow managed to smirk smuggly while chewing.
Bucky shook his head, huffed a sigh and grabbed for his favorite yellowtail rather than continue the pointless argument.
Bzzzzt!
Shuri pulled out a thin silver cell phone that was clearly Wakandan in make but meant to interface with outside tech. The glow of the screen illuminated her face from below giving an eerie sinister look to her widening smile.
“What?” Bucky asked, halfway through chewing.
Shuri typed out a response and giggled in response.
“What?” Bucky demanded.
She held the phone out over the table for him to read. At the top of the text conversation was the name “Cap 2.0” and a picture of Sam in his old bug-eyed red goggles. The recent text Shuri had received and her response read:
Cap 2.0: [I will owe you literally any favor you ask for if you keep the boys all night.]
Shuri: [Deal! Have fun on your date.] Followed by a winking emoji.
Bucky nearly choked. He was still working on getting the too large lump of rice down his esophagus when Sam’s reply lit up the screen:
Cap 2.0: [You’re the best!]
Bucky coughed into his fist, heart racing while Shuri pulled her phone back and giggled louder.
“Gah!” Bucky cleared his throat finally. “I hate you, you know. I hate your meddling manipulation. I can’t believe you did that!”
“You do not hate me. Where would you be without me, hum?” Shuri picked over the sushi while leveling him with an arrogant look. “One armed, broken, sad, lonely white-boy pining after—”
“Ok!” Bucky threw his chopsticks down and leaned back with his arms crossed. He frowned and ran his tongue over his top teeth. “You’ve made your point.”
Shuri paused, face falling as she realized she had stepped a little too far over the metaphorical line. She reached across the table, though his hands were too far away and he didn’t reach back.
“You deserve better than to be lonely, James,” she said seriously.
The melancholy sigh punched out of Bucky’s chest and his shoulders slumped. Unintentionally Shuri’s words cut deeper than she knew. He couldn’t count the times Becca had said just about the same thing to him in just about the same tone before the war. “ You deserve better than to be lonely, Jamie. You’ve your pick of the gals. What’s the harm in giving it a real try? It’d break Stevie’s heart to think he was leaving you all alone,” she had said when Steve was laid up with his last bout of pneumonia. They all knew Steve would probably die young, and then where would Bucky be without his best friend: broken, sad, lonely.
Bucky looked down at the table without seeing it, feeling Becca and Steve’s absence like the phantom pains in his left arm.
“I’m working on it— on letting people in,” Bucky said to Shuri, unable to meet her eyes. He forced the words out, and that was progress.
“I know,” she said, accepting without bitterness again.
“It’s hard,” he grumbled, picking up his chopsticks again and snagging the last of the yellowtail before Shuri could scarf it up.
“Then are you ready to admit you need my help?” She asked, letting a little of her playful tone return.
“I think you’ve done enough.” Bucky glanced at her with narrowed suspicious eyes.
“Not yet. Have you seen your apartment?” She asked him aghast. “Ayo said it was ‘sparse’, not empty! You can’t take Sam there with it looking like that.”
“Why would I take…”
“You need furniture.”
“No. Shuri,” Bucky was ashamed to admit his tone came out more of a moan of defeat than anything. “Please, I’m hardly ever there. I’m probably not even going to keep it much longer. I don’t need…”
“You are going to need somewhere to take Sam at the end of your date— somewhere with an actual bed! ”
“Jesus, Shuri. I’m not bedding a fella on the first date. I’m not that kinda— OK, you’re right, I am— but Sam isn’t that kinda guy. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right,” Bucky insisted then grumbled to his plate, “for once in my goddamn life.”
“But what if that isn’t what Sam wants?” Shuri asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Are you going to let the opportunity pass you by because you have no place to—”
“Alright, alright,” Bucky held up his vibranium hand in defeat.
“So…?” Shuri smirked and turned an ear towards him, waiting expectantly.
Bucky petulant shoved another bit in his mouth, chewing it slowly. Shuri didn’t move, waiting with far too much patience. Shuri wasn’t wrong; he’d had safehouses with more furniture than his place in New York. Safehouses were easy. The things you put inside them didn’t have to be nice or mean anything, they just had to function. If his place in New York was going to be somewhere he took Sam it was different, it was his. What he put in it said something about him and right now it screamed that he was empty. Still the idea of put anything in it was more daunting than another battle against Thanos. Bucky swallowed and sighed.
“Help?” He asked with a pinched expression bordering on pained.
Shuri blinked at him before declaring, “That was pathetic. Alright! Finish your food then take me to this IKEA I have heard so much about!”
The summer sun was disappearing behind the skyline when Shuri and Bucky made it back to his apartment. Her arms were laden with bright blue and yellow bags bursting with all manner of knick knacks and decorations Bucky was sure he didn’t need. Over his head he carried a stack of flat packed furniture that would need to be assembled. There was more scheduled for delivery later that week too. Bucky was overwhelmed by it all but at least it gave him something to do other than stress about Sam’s impending arrival.
Inside his apartment Shuri put the bags on his counter and perched on one of the bar stools with a sigh. She looked equally exhausted, but there was a warm glow of success around her. Her whole demeanor had changed from the anxious and angry young woman who had woken Bucky up that morning.
He stacked his furniture-to-be against the wall and poured them both a glass of seltzer.
“I think this has been a very successful visit,” Shuri said.
“I think I have a headache.”
Shuri laughed softly.
“You know I make a fuss,” Bucky started slowly, fiddling with the glass, “but I really do appreciate what you’ve done for me.”
“I know,” Shuri said in her usual way.
“Your brother does as well,” Bucky said, looking up to see her face dropping into tense neutrality. “He thinks the world of you and has great respect for you, even when you think he’s being controlling and overbearing.”
“I don’t need to be coddled like a child or sheltered.”
“You’re his baby sister. No matter how much you don’t need it, he’ll feel like he needs to offer it. Hard wired big-brother instincts, just a fact of life,” Bucky shrugged and fought to keep his tone light. Shuri met his gaze with empathy, knowing where his thoughts must be straying to.
“Maybe…” Bucky suggested, “try talking to him again, hear him out and compromise if you can.”
“Alright,” Shuri said after a pause. She tipped back the last of her drink then stood with a heavy sigh. “I saw the Dora waiting outside. I’ll leave you to finish up, yeah?”
“Yes, leave me with the manual labor. Thanks.”
Shuri grinned and wiggled her fingers at him in a cheeky wave. She breezed out of his apartment with all the entitlement that she had entered it with.
“Bucky,” she said, pausing at the door. “Good luck on your date.”
“I never called it a date,” he corrected her sharply, then deflated a bit. “Thanks. I’ll try not to screw up all your hard work.”
Shuri smirked and said, “You won’t,” before the door shut behind her.