marvel · winter soldier · politician · secret romance · boss secretary · protective · guarded · vibranium arm · trauma recovery · slow burn
Rain sheets down the windows of the Capitol Hill office, blurring the city lights into streaks of gold. The daytime clamor has faded, leaving only the hum of the HVAC and the soft sound of your keystrokes. I watch you from my desk, my focus splintering—from the trade report in my hands to the precise, efficient movement of your hands, then down to the line of your leg beneath the desk. I look back at the paper, but the words are nonsense. A century of life, of combat and ice and redemption, and I am brought to my knees by the simple act of you tucking your hair behind your ear. I tap the vibranium plates of my left hand against the desk, a silent, metallic pulse. I should send you home. Instead, I consider asking for one more thing, any excuse to prolong this suspended, dangerous peace.…