Steve met Sharon's bright, watery gaze, one brow lifting as the corner of his mouth curled into a meaningful smile.
"With an invitation from such a beautiful lady, how could I possibly refuse? As it happens, I've still got an old bottle of red wine here. Fine wine with fine company—that's the perfect pairing~"
He rose, casually plucking a bottle from the nearby rack—an '82 Lafite he'd "borrowed" from Alexander Pierce while handing off a Hydra mission.
Bowing slightly, he extended a gentlemanly hand toward Sharon.
For a moment, hesitation flickered in her eyes. Then joy quickly replaced it, and without a second thought, she reached out to clasp his warm hand.
So what if Aunt Peggy and the Captain never worked out in the end? There's no chance for them now. This doesn't count as stealing from my aunt's past… right?
Hand in hand, the two of them walked next door to Sharon's apartment.
Dinner was only a formality—barely a few bites of food, a symbolic sip of wine.
It was clear that tonight's "main course" had nothing to do with appetite, but with another, far less describable hunger.
(Here, ten thousand words are omitted for the readers' imagination...)
When Steve opened his eyes again, dawn had already broken.
The beauty who'd lain beside him last night was gone. The bedroom door stood ajar, and from the dining area drifted the delicious aroma of searing meat.
He had to admit—agents really were built different. His nineteen girlfriends from last year had all needed at least a full day's rest after "battles" with him.
None of them had ever managed to get up at the crack of dawn to make him breakfast.
Murmuring to himself, he pulled on the neatly folded clothes Sharon had laid out on the nightstand and stepped out of the room.
Just then, Sharon emerged from the kitchen, carrying two hefty bacon sandwiches. One plate had triple the portion of the other, which she set before Steve with a soft smile:
"You hardly ate anything last night… and after all that activity, I figured you must be starving by now~"
Steve rubbed his stomach—he really was a bit hungry.
It wasn't beauty that was impossible to resist—it was a beauty who was thoughtful and knew you inside out.
And Sharon Carter, who had grown up hearing stories of Captain America and was secretly his biggest fangirl, was without doubt the one who understood him best.
Steve pulled her into his arms, settling her onto his lap. Breathing in the fragrance of her hair, he bit into the sandwich.
"Mmm, this is good. Simple ingredients, but in your hands they taste incredible. Must be the seasoning of love~"
Sharon's face flushed crimson at his praise, her heart thundering, her gaze misting as she looked into his eyes.
Decades of agent training evaporated in an instant—her whole mind was filled with nothing but Steve.
He's so good at this. I'm so in love!
"Captain Rogers…"
"Call me Steve."
"Steve…"
The air grew heavy with tension, the two of them leaning closer… closer…
~ You are my sunshine rainbow little white pony, di-di-da-da, di-di-da-da ~
The shrill ringtone shattered the moment, cutting off their second round before it began.
Flustered, Sharon scrambled off him and ducked her head like an ostrich.
Steve's brow twitched. When he saw Nick Fury's name on the screen, a vein throbbed on his forehead.
"Motherf—! That damned 'Little White Pony' again?!"
He wanted to hang up outright. But then he remembered Fury had just handed him a mission worth 500 Enhancement Points yesterday. What if this was another of those lucrative jobs?
Grinding his teeth, he picked up.
"Little White Pony, talk. You've got ten seconds to give me a reason not to come down to your office right now and blow out your other eye."
For once, Fury didn't snap back. By now, he no longer dared to gamble on whether this brain-freeze-addled Captain America was joking or dead serious.
If this redneck lost it and actually took out his only good eye, who could he complain to?
Shuddering, Fury quickly explained:
"Trust me, I wouldn't bother you right after a mission if it weren't urgent. But something's come up—something serious.
Yesterday, I sent Agent Romanoff to Iran to escort a nuclear engineer back.
An hour ago, they were ambushed on the return trip. Now Natasha and the engineer are both missing, status unknown. I need you on rescue, immediately!"
The truth was, if there'd been any other option, Fury wouldn't have called this foul-mouthed bastard. But Black Widow—one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s top agents—had gone missing on this mission.
Sending ordinary agents would just be sending more bodies to the slaughter.
In the end, Fury had no choice but to turn to this superhuman.
Steve's brows knit tight. Natasha, ambushed?
Damn it—he'd just seen her yesterday, and now she was missing?
And what kind of attack could overwhelm her? Even in these early days of Marvel, before heroes and villains flooded the scene, Black Widow was already a Tier-1 powerhouse.
Before yesterday, he might have debated whether to take the mission, depending on his mood.
But after tasting the sweet reward from Tony's rescue, Steve didn't hesitate.
This was tied to another main Marvel character. That meant the reward was bound to be just as rich!
"Fine. I'll take it. Send me the coordinates of where Natasha vanished. I'll check it out."
"They're already in your inbox."
Without another word, Steve hung up.
Sharon had heard every word of the call—sitting only a seat away, there was no way she could miss it.
She stared at him, torn, lips trembling as if she wanted to speak but couldn't.
Of course Steve noticed. With a casual smile, he said:
"Something on your mind? Don't hold back. With where we're at now, there's nothing you can't say. For example… we could always chat about your agent identity."
Her pupils shrank. Shocked, Sharon shot to her feet, accidentally knocking her plate off the table.
But before it could hit the ground, Steve didn't even move his head—just reached out lazily and caught it, sandwich and all.
He called this move… the Steve Reflex Jolt.