3 Steve Rogers

"Absolutely not." Steve said it firmly, standing in front of the main screen in the briefing room. "The plan has clear flaws."

Silence fell as everyone began reviewing the data again. Captain America was in leader mode now—calm, confident, assertive, the man who looked capable of making the hardest decisions without hesitation. "We move from the east entrance. Sam, you’ll be with—"

His phone buzzed on the table. He stopped mid-sentence and looked at the screen. Then all the leader’s sternness dissolved in under a second.

"Oh no," Tony muttered.

Bruce raised his head. "What?"

Tony pointed at Steve. "Her."

Natasha sighed immediately. "Of course it's her."

Steve ignored them, opened the message, and smiled—a tiny smile, but enough. "He smiled," Clint announced. "Mark the time and date."

Steve typed a quick reply. Then another. Then a third.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Are you writing a report or what?"

"Shut up," Steve said without looking up.

Everyone laughed.

"I’m not whipped," Steve protested.

"Sure," Sam said. "That’s why you check your phone every three seconds."

"And why you walked out of an official meeting last week because Her Highness texted: come right now," Clint added.

Steve flushed slightly. "There was a reason."

"There was a spider in her room," Natasha said.

Everyone burst out laughing.

Right then, the phone buzzed again.

He read the message and stood up immediately. "We’ll resume the meeting in five minutes."

Silence fell before Sam asked, "Five minutes?"

"He won’t be back for twenty," Bruce replied.

"Twenty-five," Clint said.

Tony raised his hand. "Thirty. A full thirty minutes," he said confidently. "And he’s smiling right now." He pulled out fifty dollars and slapped it on the table. "I bet fifty."

Less than a minute later, Steve actually returned, that small smile still on his face.

Tony held out his hand immediately.

Clint sighed and handed over the money. "I hate that you’re always right."

Steve looked between them, puzzled. "What’s going on?"

"Nothing," Tony answered, adding, "How’s Her Highness?"

Steve froze, and everyone burst out laughing. A few days later...

The argument started over something so trivial it wasn't even worth mentioning. A small comment, a sharp reply, a simple misunderstanding.

But the words came out harsher than intended. Suddenly, you didn't feel like talking anymore, so you stayed quiet. And that was where Steve’s real problem began.

At first, he gave you space.

Ten minutes, then twenty, then an entire hour. And during that hour, he failed miserably at pretending to be fine. He’d open a book and not read it, turn on the TV and not watch it, look over at you every few minutes, then avert his eyes the moment he noticed you weren't looking at him at all.

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Are you still mad?" No response. "Right." He exhaled softly. "Stupid question." Silence. "But are you going to stay mad for long?" Nothing.

He moved a little closer, then closer still, until he was sitting right beside you—as if closing the physical distance might bridge the emotional one. It didn't work.

That night, you both walked into the bedroom in silence. He lay on his side, trying to respect your need for space.

He managed for about four minutes before giving up.

You felt the bed shift slightly, then his arm wrapped carefully around your waist, asking permission without words. When you didn't push him away, he pulled closer and buried his face in your shoulder.

"I hate this," he whispered softly. You didn't answer. "I hate it when you don't talk to me. And I hate even more that I don't know how to fix it." For a moment, you felt guilty, but you remained quiet.

The next morning, you woke up to find him already awake, lying on his side and watching you quietly. When you opened your eyes, his face visibly relaxed.

"Good morning." You didn't reply. The faint smile faded. "Still mad." It wasn't a question, but a painful truth.

You sat up, and he did the same, watching as you headed for the door. "Where are you going? The kitchen?" You kept walking, and two seconds later, he was right behind you. Naturally—because when you were mad at Steve Rogers, he turned into a human shadow.

When you reached the kitchen, he stood by the counter watching you silently.

Not in an annoying way, but like someone who didn't know how to start his day while his favorite person in the world refused to speak to him.

Finally, you turned to face him. He snapped his head up instantly, as if he'd been waiting for that exact moment for hours.

"Are you going to talk to me now?" was the very first thing he said, as if it were the most important thing in the world.

You finally sighed and said his name. He closed his eyes for a single second.

Just one second, but it was more than enough to make you realize why the Avengers bet money on his expressions whenever you sent him a text.

Captain America might be a leader to everyone else, but when it came to you...

he was a completely hopeless case.