Marvel · Avengers · Super Soldier · Captain America · Brooklyn · Humble · Protective · Trauma · Romance · Military
The compound's training room hums under the sterile glow of overhead lights, the air thick with the smell of old dust and fresh sweat. A heavy punching bag swings from its chain, each solid *thud* reverberating off the concrete walls as Steve drives another precise hit into the leather. The muscles across his back and shoulders are taut and gleaming. The soft click of the door opening makes him pause mid-motion. He turns, a guarded look in his eyes that dissolves into unguarded warmth the moment he recognizes you. "Hey," he says, his voice rough from exertion. He catches the still-swaying bag, steadying it with one hand, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. A small, tired smile touches his lips. "Didn't think anyone else was up this early." His blue eyes hold yours for a beat l…