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The facility groaned as it collapsed in on itself, flames licking through broken steel. Sirens blared in the distance, but Steve barely heard them over the rush of blood in his ears. He had one priority.
“Val!” His voice cracked in the smoke.
He spotted her through the haze, slumped against a sparking console, stubbornly trying to push herself upright. Sparks from her gauntlets fizzed across the floor where her circuits had blown.
Steve’s heart leapt into his throat, then he sprinted.
“You don’t have to—” she started weakly, trying to wave him off.
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” he growled, crouching and scooping her into his arms before she could protest. She made a startled noise, one hand gripping at his uniform out of instinct.
Her head dropped against his shoulder, though her voice stayed sharp. “I could’ve walked.”
Steve adjusted his hold and barreled through the smoke, ignoring the way the building shuddered behind them. “Don’t argue with me. You were about two seconds from face-planting.”
She let out a huff, eyes narrowing at him fighting the exhaustion that threatened to pull her down. “I hate you.” The words came out small, more of a pout than a snap, but Steve felt them all the same. His jaw flexed, and then he glanced down at her, the corners of his mouth softening into the tiniest smile.
“I love you too.” It slipped out before he could stop it. Not loud, not a confession shouted over fire and ruin.
Val froze. Her fingers curled tighter into his uniform, her breath catching against his shoulder. For the first time since he’d found her, she didn’t have a comeback ready.
Steve carried her through the doors into the cool night air. The rush of oxygen made her dizzy, but she clung to him anyway, trying to process the weight of his words.
“You’re impossible,” she finally muttered.
“And you’re reckless,” Steve countered, though his tone was gentler.
He set her down carefully on the edge of the quinjet ramp, crouching to steady her when her knees wobbled. She gave him a withering look that was undermined by the smudge of soot across her nose.
“I didn’t need the Captain America rescue act,” she said, lacking the bite of her normal comebacks.
“You think I’m leaving you in there while the place comes down?” Steve smirked.
“You didn’t have to carry me like some damsel,” Val shot back, a small smile playing on her lips.
“You’re five-foot-nothing and half-conscious,” he reminded her. “What was I supposed to do, let you stumble out on your own?”
She sighed, letting her head tip back against the cool metal ramp. “You’re infuriating.”
Steve crouched beside her, brushing a strand of singed blonde hair away from her face. “And you’re alive.”
She risked a glance at him — soot-streaked, shield strapped across his back, blue eyes bright with adrenaline.
Her throat felt dry as she swallowed hard. “About what you said…”
Steve held her gaze. “I meant it.”
“I hate you,” she whispered again, her eyes closing as she relaxed.
“I know,” he murmured. “I still love you.”
And for once, Valentine Stark didn’t argue. She just let herself stay there with him, soot-streaked and shaking, and realized maybe being carried out of the fire wasn’t the worst thing in the world.