Archive of Our Own

Then

If there was one thing Sharon disliked the most it was the combination of red, pink, and white for this upcoming non-holiday.

She didn't loathe the day itself. In fact, they were due for some rather nice weather if she remembered correctly. The friendly woman with her pearly white teeth said so on today's forecast, so naturally, Sharon was pleased. It was a good change from all the rain.

The bad?

Again with the red, pink, and white. It didn't matter how they were blended or how they were intertwined, they still banded together to form unpleasant-looking hearts. Hearts, which were then painted onto boxes distributed front row and center at every store.

Now, the contents of said boxes were fine. Sharon liked chocolate just as much as the next person. She indulged from time to time. Usually, she saved the cravings for the holidays when she received them as gifts from the family, so yes, there was no concern with the treats in the boxes.

It was the awful representation of love that people found appropriate to celebrate once a year that bothered her.

Sharon wasn't a romantic. That was a given.

She was busy.

For as long as she could remember, she always had something on her agenda. Whether she was overanalyzing the letters in her breakfast bowl from the alpha-bits cereal she ate every morning since she was eight, to strategizing how she could age-up her appearance and possibly skip the tenth grade to join the new recruits at S.H.I.E.L.D., or to stretch her boundaries and patience by babysitting a late twenties veteran across the hall. There was always something.

She didn't have the time to add Valentine's Day to her list. Her list was already long enough.

"Damn it."

She dumped the box of Alpha-bits into her cart and grumbled. 

Her overanalyzing about not overanalyzing the hearts that dangled at every aisle of the grocery store meant that her cereal could be a crumbled mess of nothingness when she dug into it the next morning.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Sharon switched out the box with a fresh one from the shelf, and she made certain it was wedged safely in between two other items in her cart. 

She huffed and looked over her shoulder. "I think it's safe to say that in spy 101, the spy should not be in cohorts with another spy. Especially not during an active mission," she said.

Natasha gave her a dry smile. "Mission?" she started, and she reached into the cart. "How does Alphabet-eos mix into all of this?"

Sharon snagged the box from her hands. "It's Alpha-bits. Don't mix it up with Cheerios," she said. "And yes, the mission is still active. You shouldn't be here." She frowned and scanned the next aisle.

"Don't be like that,” Natasha sang, and she scrunched her nose. “He’s at headquarters. Fury’s filling him in on leading a squad for an east raid. There's nothing to worry about."

“Wonderful,” Sharon mumbled under her breath.

Natasha raised her eyebrows, amused, and she fell into step with a light skip next to her. “You know, I’m beginning to think there’s a lot of things that make you unhappy,” she said. “Before all of this, I considered you to be a very patient person. A very poised, actually, scratch that--A very practical, yes, practical fits well--”

Sharon pulled the cart to the side and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why are you here?”

Natasha thought for a moment. “Is it hard to believe I want a taste of normal life every once in a while?” she asked.

“This is normal?” Sharon gestured with her hand to the cart.

The corner of Natasha’s lip tilted up. “It beats not having a home.”

Sharon took in a large breath.

That was cruel, but she knew what Natasha meant. 

While Sharon spent her nights grumbling and wishing she was back in the field instead of sitting on her couch waiting for the next grouch to break into Steve Rogers’ apartment, there were worse things. Missions that she had before saw her far from home away from her peers, her resources, or any point of contact with anyone she knew. Natasha was the same.

No, this wasn’t the worst mission Sharon had, but it was the most tedious.

She placed a hand on her hip and sighed again. “Fine,” she said, and she watched Natasha quirk a smirk. “But don’t say that again. I’m serious.”

“Done.” Natasha waved a hand. She reached for something red on the shelf and placed it in the cart.

Sharon raised an eyebrow. "Are you giving those to someone?" she asked, and she eyed the red heart-shaped box.

"No, it's for you, silly." Natasha ruffled her hair, and Sharon swatted her hand away.

"I don't need it," she grumbled.

"Yes, you do. I don't see a lineup of Valentine suitors at your door," Natasha said, and Sharon rolled her eyes and pushed the cart to the till. "Or do you?"

"This again?"

Natasha watched as each item got scanned. "You don't find him just a little bit...your type?"

Sharon scoffed. "And you know my type?"

She shouldn't have asked, because now Natasha had that look in her eye. The blue in them sparkled and promised some level of humiliation. Sharon waited and busied herself with paying at the register.

"Make sure this is right on the top of the bag there. Don't want to miss it," Natasha finally said, and she said it to the grocery store worker with a playful smile on her lips.

Sharon squinted one eye. She expected more teasing, so yes, it was strange, but she wasn't complaining.

They parted a few blocks away from her apartment when Natasha waved just as she stopped at a red light. The door swung open, and she disappeared into the sea of people scurrying on the crosswalk.

Sharon blew a breath.

It was rare for her to find time outside of her home. She was only able to venture out if Steve Rogers was out on a mission. Even then, she stayed around sulking in her apartment. He returned at the most unpredictable times.

Since he woke up from the ice and she was chosen and assigned to him, she lived next door to watch over him. Her cover persona, the delightful and charming Kate, wasn't a difficult role to play, but as she learned, Steve had a lot of enemies.

Now, these were enemies he didn't know he had. The man slept for seventy years. In Sharon's eyes, most of his enemies during the time he served should have been dead. And they were. There were just a lot of people who were alive who were curious and despised what he stood for. In fact, she was convinced they broke into his apartment looking for validation on his super soldier strength.

It usually meant they brought weapons to test their theory. Sometimes they were there to raid his apartment too. She often wondered what they could be looking for. The cube perhaps? But that wasn't on this planet anymore. All in all, they broke in every now and then, and Sharon needed to be nearby to put a stop to it.

Steve had no idea this was happening, and that was just how S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted it. He was vulnerable, or as vulnerable as he could be, and they wanted him focused.

So Sharon did all she could so that nothing was out of place by the time their hero returned home.

It was probably why she was a grumbling mess through it all, but Steve was nice enough. It didn't matter what Natasha said or how badly she teased, Sharon respected him.

He was a sweet and kind man, and he made every encounter between them comfortable.

She sighed and shook her head. 

The year was barely two months in. She shouldn't continue to overanalyze Steve Rogers outside her mission details.

Sharon slipped her arm through the bag handles and dragged her feet into the building and up the stairs. There were voices just up next step, and she scrunched her eyebrows together.

One belonged to Steve, she could tell, and the other was…

“Kate.”

There was a hike in Steve’s tone as she came up the last step. Sharon put her best smile on.

He was just coming in, and he had his keys in one hand. He turned to greet her, and Sharon’s cheek twitched.

“Can I help you with those bags?” he asked.

“No, I’m good,” she said, and she scurried closer to her door.

What the hell was she doing here?

“Steve, aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Sharon reluctantly snuck a look over her shoulder.

Natasha brightly smiled. She was leaning against Steve’s closed door, and she pushed herself away from it to stand closer to him.

Steve cleared his throat. “This is Kate,” he said, and Sharon’s shoulders dropped. 

This was going to happen. What in the world was Natasha thinking? And how did she get here so fast?

“And this is Natasha,” Steve continued. “We were--”

“Just coming back from a date,” Natasha finished, and she extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kate.”

Sharon fought the urge to make a face. She took her hand and gave it a very firm squeeze. “Natasha,” she said. “Lovely to meet you.”

Lovely?

Sharon forced a smile. Her eyes were hard. Natasha looked amused.

“Date?” Steve sputtered. “It wasn’t a--”

“Looks like you have one coming up too, Kate,” Natasha said, and she took a step back, looped her arm around his, and gestured to the bag around Sharon’s arm. “You have a Valentine's suitor? That’s very sweet.”

This time, Sharon couldn’t fight back the confusion on her face. She scrunched her nose, and her eyes dropped down to the clear bag and the red, heart-shaped box that sat on top.

“Isn’t that sweet, Steve?” Natasha said, and she tugged at his arm. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Kate. I hope you enjoy your Valentine.” She gave another sly grin.

Sharon was going to kill her.

Not today but someday.

Steve was still stumbling over his words. To spare him the trouble, Sharon ducked into her apartment and nearly tossed the bags on top of the kitchen island.

She hated everything about this awful red, pink, and white week.

"I don't think that was appropriate."

Steve frowned and gently shut the door behind him.

Natasha made herself comfortable by swinging a few of his cupboards open. "I don't know what you mean," she said, and she continued to rummage. "Do you have snacks?"

He sighed and pointed to the fridge. "There's cobb salad," he said, and he went back to frowning. "Introducing yourself to Kate was a risky move."

"Cobb salad? How do you get by on a cobb salad?" Natasha made a face.

"I'm being serious, Natasha."

She poked her head out from the fridge. "So am I," she said. "What's the big deal? I couldn't tell her I was providing you with mission details that involve your alter ego now, can I?"

"She knows I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.," he said. "She wouldn't suspect anything." He watched her pick out the chicken from the bowl. "And don't you normally come through the window?"

Natasha pointed the fork at him. "You told me numerous times that you hated it when I did that," she said. "And you didn't tell me you told her that you worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. What is it that you do to contribute to this top-level organization, hm?"

He was irritated by the twinkle in her eye. "Something normal," he mumbled, and he stepped around her to the living room.

She followed him, the bowl in one hand. "Normal," she repeated, and she sounded amused again. "I like it, but don't you think it's the least bit odd that she hasn't said anything about…" She waved the fork in a circle and gestured to his face.

He blinked.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You. Your name, your face," she said. "It's plastered all over the news and the internet. You parade around in your blue suit, you wear a helmet, there's a shield involved. Ringing any bells?"

"She's too busy," Steve said, and he coughed into his closed fist. "She's a nurse. I don't think she looks around for things like that."

Natasha raised her eyebrows. "Or she just doesn't care," she sang.

Steve shot her a glare.

"And if she was so busy, why does she have time to go on a date?" she asked.

"You're assuming again," Steve said.

"Am I?"

His lips thinned. "That was the inappropriate part," he said. "You shouldn't have commented on her personal life. It's not right."

Natasha paused, and he sighed when she started chuckling. "Not right?" she mimicked. "Your girl had a box of hearts in that bag. Either she got it from someone or she's giving it to someone."

"She doesn't have a boyfriend," Steve mumbled.

Kate didn't have time for that. Besides, he'd know if she did. He saw her from time to time, and he'd been over to her apartment a few times to...talk. She was helpful when he needed guidance, so he made it a point to help her when he had the opportunity.

Sometimes it was to assist with carrying her grocery bags, other times they stuck around the hallway and lightly chatted. She would have mentioned if she had a suitor.

Natasha raised her eyebrows. "This is an awful salad," she said, and she poked inside the bowl with her fork. "How would you know that she doesn't have a boyfriend?"

Couldn't she stick to one part of a conversation at a time?

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "I didn't make the salad. I bought it," he said. "And no, she doesn't."

"You asked?"

"What? No," he mumbled. "That's not something you ask."

"Then how do you know?" Her eyes twinkled.

"I just do," he said. "The part about our date was uncalled for too."

She shrugged her shoulders. "What is the problem here, Steve?" she asked.

He rubbed his temples. "Nevermind." He sighed.

Natasha blinked a few times. "So are you upset that I said we were on a date, or are you more annoyed to find out that she has a date?"

He frowned.

Natasha clicked her tongue. "Ah, I see," she said, and he didn't like the smirk on her lips. She pointed the fork at him again. "You don't want her to think you're unavailable, and you are annoyed that someone gave her that box."

She looked positively gleeful.

He clamped a hand over his eyes. 

“You need to make better use of your time.”

Natasha stretched her arms over her head. “Like you?” she asked. Sharon narrowed her eyes, and Natasha nudged her with her shoulder. “What are we doing back here anyway? Weren't we just at the store yesterday?”

Sharon sighed. Natasha trailed after her as she zig-zagged through the aisles. “That was nearly a week ago," she said. "My cereal’s getting discontinued."

“Excuse me?” Natasha chuckled. “Your cereal?”

Sharon shot her a glare. “Remind me why you’re here?” she grumbled. “Haven’t you caused enough damage?”

“Damage,” Natasha repeated. She placed a hand on her chest. “Me? What damage are you referring to?”

“Don’t be coy,” Sharon said. “That whole Valentine's bit with Steve out in the hall. You planned it. Don’t bother denying that’s what you intended to do.”

Natasha kept up with her hasty steps. “It’s hard being a double agent,” she said, and she continued to chuckle. “I need to play my part over there, and then over here--”

“Who says you need to be over here?” Sharon grumbled. “I have everything under control. Your unwanted visits are making it more difficult.”

“Ouch,” Natasha said, and she scrunched her nose. “You are so grumpy.” She waved a hand. “It’s why I’m needed. Can you imagine if you were stuck in that lonesome apartment grumbling all by your lonesome self?”

“You are not helping.”

She really wasn’t. 

Natasha found this amusing, but to be fair, Sharon knew it was coming.

A month or two into her new assignment, they shared a brief conversation about Steve Rogers’ mental health. Aside from the people who were curious or wanted to see him dead, Sharon made the mistake of sympathizing too much. Perhaps it was the long sigh or how she told Natasha she wished things were different for him. She didn’t know, but since then, the red-headed spy came to the conclusion that--

“Steve thinks you have a boyfriend,” Natasha said. “You’re welcome.”

Sharon pressed her lips together, and she paused and placed a hand on her hip. “That was unnecessary,” she said.

“You’re even starting to sound like him.”

Sharon rolled her eyes and continued down the aisle.

Natasha strolled along next to her. “What’s wrong with that?” she asked. “A bubbly, strong woman with a mighty career living the single life? You’re a catch. He should know that.”

“It’s none of his business. And there’s nothing wrong with being single,” Sharon said. She gave Natasha a pointed stare.

“Hm, no,” Natasha said, and she thought for a moment. “But it did clarify a few things for me.”

Sharon scoffed and ruffled her hand against the top, empty shelf. “Sounds to me like you’re the one who’s the lonesome, grumbling mess.”

Natasha agreed, and she smirked. “Boredom is a frightening look on me.”

“Clearly.” Sharon reached for the top shelf again. “And I--”

She turned her head, and her mouth fell open. Natasha was shoved around the corner and towards the following aisle the next second.

“What the hell--?”

“Kate?”

Sharon put on her best smile. Did he see?

“Steve, hello,” she said, and she hoped her pitch wasn't too high. She held onto the basket handle tightly. "I didn't see you there."

He gave her a friendly smile. He had a basket too, and he inched towards her. "I thought I heard a familiar voice," he said, and she watched his eyebrows scrunch together. "Were you talking to someone?"

"No," she said quickly. "Just to myself. I do that when I'm frustrated."

He lightly laughed. "Yes, you seem to do that a lot when you return from work." He cleared his throat. "Not that I was listening intentionally. The walls are thin."

Sharon pressed her lips together in a tight smile. The walls were thin. She would need to remember that the next time Natasha dropped by. Speaking of… It didn't seem Steve noticed her grocery shopping partner.

She breathed a sigh of relief and hoped that Natasha managed to scramble away.

"So," she started, and she glanced at his empty basket. "Restocking?"

He chuckled. "You could say that. I'm not the best cook so my list is limited," he said.

"Ah," she said, and she flashed him a smile. "The cooking channel is usually a good place to start, and there are plenty of easy recipes online."

Steve sighed, but he kept the soft smile on his lips. "They make it look so easy," he said, and his eyes shifted to her empty basket. "You're back at the grocery store." She raised an eyebrow, and he slipped one hand in his pocket. "A few days ago," he said. "You looked like you came back from the store. I didn't mean--I probably shouldn't have said anything. You're busy, and you don't have much free time, and it's none of my--"

Sharon tilted her head. For someone who was normally bashful, Steve sure talked a lot. Most of the time it was in riddles. He jumped from one topic to another, his sentences trailed off, and he was always twisting the insides of his pockets in between his fingers.

It was adorable, really.

Thank goodness Natasha couldn't get into her thoughts.

"Steve," she said, and he shut his mouth. "You're not intruding on my time." She gave him a supportive smile.

Sure, he was the reason why she wasn't back in the field, and yes, he drove her a little nuts with his horrid taste in music that she could hear thumping against their shared wall, but he was incredibly sweet. And he was trying.

Apart from Natasha and a few handful S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, she was told he didn't mingle much. It meant that she was a part of his inner circle.

She pressed her lips together when he tried to apologize again, and she gave him a firm look. She made sure she had one hand on her hip to make it convincing.

Steve lightly laughed.

Sharon scrunched her nose. "There is something you could help with," she said, and he looked instantly curious. She pointed to the shelf. "Could you reach up there to see if there are any boxes left?"

"Of course."

He was nearly a head taller than her and had far better reach. Not that it wasn't a problem. If he wasn't around, she would have likely climbed the darn thing to get what she wanted. But she was undercover, and Kate was a dainty, little thing.

"I think it's sold out," Steve said.

"Son of a--" Sharon grumbled. He looked amused, and she bit back a snarl. She forced a tight smile. "Thank you for checking."

"I'm sure they'll restock the--" he said, and she saw his eyes skim over the tag. "--Alpha-bits."

She let out a sharp breath through her nostrils. She hoped it didn't sound like a snort.

"They're discontinuing it," she mumbled. Her shoulders slumped. "I only have one box left and I'm running low. If I'd known, I would have bought the whole lot."

He started to chuckle, but Sharon wasn't in the mood. She held back the urge to glare. She assumed she didn't do a very good job with hiding it because he snapped his mouth shut immediately.

"It's my favorite cereal," she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Only Steve would apologize for something meaningless like her pouting for not getting her cereal like some child. He meant it too. She could see it in his eyes.

She waved a hand. “It’s not a big deal,” she said. “These things happen. They’ll discontinue something and in a few years, it’ll come back again.”

He nodded his head. “There are other brands you could try in the meantime. I don’t eat cereal, but I do see a lot advertised on television,” he said.

Her chest vibrated, and she softly laughed. “Yes, the television,” she said. “No, it’s not that, it’s--” She paused. What was she doing? The less he knew about her, the better. “You know what? Nevermind. It’s silly.”

“No, no,” he said, and he waved a hand. “I don’t mind. I’m curious now.”

Her lip tightened on one end, and he raised his eyebrows. She couldn’t fight off rolling her eyes.

“Fine,” she said. “I…” Her cheeks were warm now. Maybe if he wasn’t staring so intently at her, she'd be able to get out her next words with as little humiliation as possible. “I maneuver the letters in the bowl to form words."

He was quiet for a few seconds. Sharon tapped her foot. 

"Laugh if you want," she said.

He didn't, but his eyes danced playfully. "I'm not laughing," he said, and he followed that by clearing his throat. "What...kind of words?"

This was getting awkward.

Sharon raised her hands. The basket dangled and smacked her hip. "Nothing important," she said. She tried all she could to find something interesting on the shelf, but it was bare and empty. She shut her eyes. "Forget it."

"No, no," he said. "I'm interested. Just...random words, or--"

"I check to see if I can form a sentence with the words in the bowl," she said quickly. "Nothing special."

He gave her a gentle smile. "Sounds like fun."

She chewed on her lip. "Not really, but it's a routine. I got used to it." She glanced back at the shelf. "Looks like I'm at the end of my sentences."

She cringed. That was a terrible joke. He didn't seem bothered though. He probably didn't catch on to her awful humor.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Steve, it's cereal. It's not the end of the world," she said.

He bobbed his head.

"I should get going," Sharon said. "I'll leave you to your shopping."

He gave her a friendly wave goodbye, and she shimmied away from the aisle, dropped her empty basket by the till, and ducked out the door.

Natasha was nowhere in sight, and Sharon rubbed her temples and grumbled the whole ride home.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Natasha was hunched over the kitchen island. Sharon took one look at the open cereal box next to her, and she dropped her purse. Her mouth fell open.

"What the hell are you doing?" she shrieked.

Natasha chewed slowly. "I'm hungry," she said.

"No." Sharon rounded on her and snatched the box. "Did you eat it all?" She snuck a look.

Natasha chuckled. "No," she said. "I didn't feel like fighting you today. There should be enough for breakfast tomorrow." She offered her bowl. "You want?"

Sharon's shoulders dropped. "You couldn't have eaten something else from the fridge? It's the middle of the afternoon."

"Oh, you mean the cheese that has mold growing on it, or the half-eaten sandwich you have in there that's starting to smell?"

Sharon narrowed her eyes. "What did you think this place was? A four-star?"

"I'd give it a solid two," Natasha said, and she smirked. "Your blankets are actually comfortable."

Sharon pointed to the door. "I mean this as a friend, and don't go smiling at me like that, it's a saying and I'm just going with the flow because we are far from friends. Now get the hell out." 

The rest of the afternoon was pretty stress-free. Sharon fell asleep on the couch with her face pressed firmly on a cushion, and she managed to get a good forty-five minutes in until her and Steve's shared wall vibrated.

She was alert, and she rolled off the sofa to grab the gun hidden underneath the coffee table.

"Shit," she mumbled.

She slipped it behind and into her pants pocket and dashed for the door.

She rapped on Steve's door and pressed her ear against the wood.

Damn it.

If that sound wasn't him, she'd need to break down the door. She cursed under her breath.

"Steve?" She knocked again. "I heard a loud noise. Is everything okay?"

There was rustling and the sound of the safety of a gun unlocking. Sharon narrowed her eyes, backed up a few steps, and charged at the door.

She wasn't strong enough to knock the door off its hinges. Thank goodness for that. She didn't know when or what time Steve would be home, and she did not want him catching her with a screwdriver trying to attach his front door back together.

The man on the other end tipped over in surprise, and Sharon made quick work of him with just two bullets.

The blood wasn't bad either. After she dragged him back to her apartment, she scrubbed the crimson from his hardwood and kept a watchful eye on the door.

The lock was easy enough to replace. She already had a bucket full of bolts, and after the latch was secure and in place, she locked up. Yes, she had a spare key. She was granted one for emergencies. Not that she used it. She always did have the habit of kicking open doors.

Steve came up the steps a few minutes after she was safe and back in her apartment, and she was readying a sigh of relief when a low and pained groan echoed around her kitchen.

She froze. 

The area rug she snagged from her living room that she rolled the supposed dead body in was twitching.

She heard Steve's footsteps halt outside, and she cursed under her breath. With two large steps, she took hold of the red and pink box on her counter and smashed it on one end of the rolled-up rug.

The twitching stopped.

Steve knocked.

"Kate?"

"Just a minute!"

She pushed the body aside, maneuvered it up to stand, and chucked the man into the nearest closet. She did a quick sweep of her appearance for traces of blood and moved to open the door.

Sharon gave him her best smile. "Hi."

"Hi," Steve said, and she watched his eyes skim over her shoulder. "I thought I heard rustling."

Rustling. That was a good word. She was surprised he knocked at all. For all he knew, she had a man over and groaning usually indicated…No. She did not want to think about what Steve could possibly think or how he could put her and male groan together. 

Nope. That was not happening. Not today.

"I was vacuuming," she lied. "I hit my toe on the coffee table."

She could have made that noise. Natasha often told her she growled like a man when she was angry. It made sense. Kate could be the same. There was no harm in Steve knowing that little bit.

She kept her tight smile on. 

His eyes fell to her hand. Sharon stilled. She still had her fingers wrapped around the crumpled Valentine's box.

"I don't think it can be salvaged," he said.

"Oh." She lightly laughed. "This. Yes, well, the person who gave it to me will never know."

She cursed Natasha.

His brows furrowed. "Right. The boyfriend."

She paused mid-nod. "The what?"

Steve cleared his throat, and he took a step back. "I should get going," he said. "I have an early morning." He turned to leave.

"It was from a friend."

He looked over his shoulder.

Sharon sighed. "A very nosy friend," she said. "She thought the chocolate would help with...the long shifts I have for work."

He huffed a light laugh. "I see," he said. "Good." She arched a brow, and he slipped his hands into his pockets. "Good as in--but not good that you have long shifts."

"Right." Her cheek dimpled.

He smiled back. "I went to another store," he said.

"Oh?"

He nodded. "I thought I'd check to see if they had your cereal."

Her heart thumped.

"They were out too."

Her stomach fell. "Oh."

He gave her a soft smile. "I'm sorry."

Sharon raised a hand. "No need to apologize, Steve. I appreciate the gesture."

She really did. Her stomach was still twisting in an odd fashion that reminded her a lot of…Again, she was thankful Natasha did not have access to her thoughts.

"I'm just disappointed I won't get a chance to try it. You seem to enjoy it a lot," he said. "And this sentence structure game is amusing."

Game? She almost pursed her lips. It was a tradition. Not a game. But she'd let it go because he was shifting his feet and because his eyes were round and bright.

Damn it.

"Maybe one day," he said, and he waved his hand and turned to his door. "Have a good evening."

"You too."

Sharon tossed and turned all night.

No, it wasn't the body she still had in the closet that S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't pick up until the next day, and it certainly wasn't the fact that she only had one bowl of cereal left for the morning.

It was…

Why did Steve Rogers need to do things like that?

Why did he need to go to another store to check on her damn cereal? And why did he look so curious and disappointed that he'd never be able to experience this game he thought she played. Why did he need to care? Why did he need to speak to her or look at her at all?

Sharon glared long and hard at her window until the moon disappeared and the sun came up. 

She swore, flung her sheets away from her body, and dragged her feet into the kitchen. She grabbed a clean bowl and dumped the cereal in.

She narrowed her eyes.

"I'm hungry."

"There's food in the fridge. I just went to the store the other day," Steve said, and he sipped his coffee.

Natasha shrugged her shoulders and tossed him a cellphone.

"Here. It's the latest. Fury wants you to have it," she said.

Steve blinked at the flashing screen. "He's calling."

She smirked. "Probably why he wants you to have it."

He brought the phone to his ear and looked towards the door where a soft knock tapped lightly from outside.

Natasha bounced from her seat. "I'll get it."

Steve nodded with the phone pressed against his shoulder and cheek. Fury was exploring the opportunity for him to lead the S.T.R.I.KE. team on a mission in Georgia for the next few days. It would be strange to venture out with a new team, but Natasha would be present. He wouldn't be entirely alone.

Speaking of Natasha.

He leaned back to peek into the hallway. The door was open and Natasha was speaking in a hushed tone. Steve craned his neck back further to look over her head.

He saw a flash of blonde hair.

His eyes widened. 

"Got it. Next week Thursday, 0400 hours. See you there," he said quickly and tossed the phone on the counter.

Natasha glanced over her shoulder as he made his way over.

"Kate." He beamed. "Good morning."

She looked uncomfortable. "Morning."

Natasha ducked back into his apartment and gently nudged him with her elbow.

He turned back to Kate. "I'm sorry about that."

"No worries," she said. "I didn't realize you had company."

He started to chuckle, and then it dawned on him. His eyes grew. "Oh no," he said, and he pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "Her? No. She didn't spend the night. She--She likes to drop by early morning. Not that she does it often. There's business and--"

Kate raised her eyebrows. "I thought she was your date," she said, and she looked amused.

"No." He cleared his throat. "She has an interesting sense of humor. We're friends." He eyed the dimple on her cheek.

"Ah," she said, and she raised her hands. "Well, I won't keep you if you have work to do. I just wanted to drop off the bowl."

He blinked.

She ducked her head. "I thought you deserved to have a taste before it's all gone."

His breath got caught in his throat. "But isn't that your last box?"

"Last bowl," she said. "But it's fine. I've been having it for breakfast for the last few years. I could use the change." 

His cheeks hurt. Was he smiling too much? This was...incredibly sweet of her.

"Thank you, Kate."

She nodded and turned to head back to her apartment. "Enjoy your Valentine's, Steve," she said.

"I hope you do too," he said.

He watched her wave again before she disappeared into her own unit, and he sighed and closed the door behind him.

Kate was one of the good ones. One of the few people who reminded him that the fight ahead was worth the fight. She was hard working, strong willed, selfless, and genuine. He was thankful she was so near. He liked seeing her smile. It was something he looked forward to after a long day.

"What the hell are you smiling about?"

He shook himself at Natasha's drawl. "Nothing--" His eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

Natasha paused, the tip of the spoon in her mouth. "Excuse me?"

Steve's mouth fell open. He pointed to the bowl. "That. What are you doing?"

She raised an eyebrow and chewed slowly. "I'm not following."

"You-" Steve's lips thinned, and he cleared his throat. "What--Why are you eating that?"

Natasha gestured with the spoon, her eyes round. "I'm eating."

"Why?" He wanted to groan.

"Because I'm hungry."

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "No, I--" He paused. He couldn't believe this. Natasha was eating his cereal. "Was...Did you notice a message?"

Natasha gave him a long, hard look. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"In the bowl, was there a--Nevermind." He sighed and clamped a hand over his eyes.

Natasha shrugged her shoulders, and he watched her dig the spoon back in the bowl. He snuck a peek. All the letters were gone.

Great.

Natasha was still staring at him. Her eyes were tiny and beady. He didn't like that look. 

"You're not ready for that," she said.

"Ready for what?"

She pointed the spoon at him again, and he frowned. "If you want to ask a question, Rogers, do it properly,'' she said.

He cleared his throat. "There's no question," he said. He looked at his shoes. 

Natasha scoffed. "I'm waiting," she said.

He narrowed his eyes. He wanted to ask because he was certain Kate left that bowl for him with the letters scrambled into a sentence like she said she always did, and he wanted to know what it said.

And now Natasha was happily chomping on the last bits of Kate's generosity. Only she would be able to tell him what that message was. It was either her or Kate. And he couldn't ask Kate.

Steve rubbed his forehead.

"Trouble?" Natasha piped up.

"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't answered the door," he told her.

She chewed slowly. "What is the problem exactly?"

He continued to rub his skin. His lines were becoming more prominent. "Was there a message?"

"Excuse me?"

"In the bowl, Natasha," he grumbled. "Was there a message?"

She tilted her head back just enough so he could still see her eyes dancing. "Maybe," she said. She waved a hand. "Trust me. If you two are going to flirt, just do it. None of this...alphabet crap."

He opened his mouth and she pointed the spoon again. His mouth slipped shut.

"I mean it," she said. "This stuff." She gestured to the box and bowl. "This is grade school business. You're past that. You blew by it several years ago."

He made a face.

Natasha looked pleased with herself. "Someday," she sang.

Now

Sharon bit back a yawn, because the front door opened and closed so quickly, she'd have thought an intruder was present if it were for the quick response from Steve near the entryway.

"Don't come to the kitchen. I'm doing something."

She raised an eyebrow.

How suspicious.

Then again, he'd been acting so strange lately. This morning, he darted out of bed so early, she nearly scrambled to reach for her gun when the mattress sprung and she bobbed to the side like an alarmed mouse.

"Do I need to sound the alarm?" she called out.

"No," he said from behind the wall. "Everything's fine. You just go about...whatever it is you're doing."

Sharon cocked an eyebrow.

Strange indeed.

"Steve. You're scaring me."

"No, no. Just...continue eating those chips. I'll be out in a second."

She lowered her eyes to the foiled bag on her lap. How did he know? She chewed on the chip slowly and silently.

"I thought you were going to the store?" she asked.

"The store--Why would you think that?"

She dusted some crumbs from her lap. "You left your laptop on."

"You went through my laptop?"

She made a face at how high his voice sounded. "No," she said slowly. "You had it on your lap in bed this morning, and when you left so quickly, I saved it from falling to its death. A thank you would be nice."

"Yes, I--Thank you, Sharon."

She huffed and patted her thighs. "Alright, Steve, I'm coming in."

Enough. It was Sunday morning. She was tired, and he was being his usual Steve self.

"I'm almost done," he begged. "Give me a second."

Sharon rolled her eyes, and she shied away and stayed at the corner of the wall, tapping her foot.

He appeared five seconds later looking disheveled.

Her eyebrows shot up again. "I'm too frightened to ask," she said.

Steve blew out a breath. He looked relieved, and he gave her a boyish grin. "Sorry about that," he said, and he took her hand and led her around the corner to the kitchen.

Sharon scanned the area for signs of anything out of the ordinary. The kitchen was clean. Good. But he spent a portion of the evening the other day cleaning it. Why he insisted, she didn't know, so the fact that it was still clean while Steve looked utterly rumpled wasn't adding up.

"I made you breakfast," he said.

She blinked at the lone bowl on the dining table and pressed her lips together. There was also a milk carton on the counter.

"You made me cereal?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Come look," Steve said, and he tugged at her hand again.

Sharon bit the urge to chuckle. His eyes were still bright, and the wide smile on his lips was adorable. Why did he leave bed so early again?

He pulled out a chair for her, and she sat and looked over her shoulder. Steve looked on and he was still smiling.

"Are you...going to watch me eat?" she asked.

"Maybe." He bobbed his head.

Sharon's eyes shifted uncomfortably. "You're scaring me," she said again.

"Sharon, just look."

She sighed and picked up the spoon, and her eyes widened. "Where did you get this? Alpha-bits have been discontinued for years." Her mouth fell open.

Steve looked positively gleeful. "I found it on ebay," he said.

She blinked. "Steve, it's expired."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I know," he said. "But I wanted to make sure you got my reply to your message from all those years ago."

Sharon's cheek dimpled, and her eyes slipped to the bowl again and to the slowly sogging letters swimming in milk.

"Your message was, 'Yes?'" She pressed her lips together again to hold in a smile. "'Yes,' to what?"

He nodded. "To your message," he said. 

Sharon placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her palm. She hid an amused smile and watched him shuffle his feet.

"Steve," she started. "I know Natasha ate the cereal."

He paled.

"Nice try though," she said.

"I--" He paused. "I couldn't stop her."

She gave him a long, hard stare. "No one can."

His lips fell into a lopsided grin. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead on hers. 

"So," he said. "Is there any chance you're willing to share what you wanted to tell me and what it said in that bowl?"

"Why don't you tell me what you thought it said?" she asked. She was utterly amused now.

He tapped his nose against hers. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "Something about being your Valentine?"

Sharon laughed.

"It wasn't?" His shoulders fell.

She placed her arms around his neck. "Nope."

His forehead was back on hers. "What did it say?"

Sharon raised an eyebrow, and she fought back a smirk. She tilted her head. 

"My name is Sharon."