‘I’m looking for James Barnes’. · Y/n story by @Holland37

The common floor of Avengers Tower was quiet, the usual post-mission hum replaced by the soft whir of climate control and the distant, rhythmic thud of a heavy bag from the training levels below. The time was late, the city lights a glittering carpet beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Tony Stark

voice filtered through the ceiling speakers Remind me again why we have a gym if people are just going to pummel things at two AM? I’m trying to calibrate repulsor harmonics over here. It’s a delicate art. Requires silence. Or the dulcet tones of AC/DC.

In the lounge, Steve Rogers looked up from his sketchbook. Natasha Romanoff was methodically cleaning a disassembled pistol on the coffee table. Sam Wilson, half-dozing in an armchair, didn’t open his eyes.

Steve Rogers

It’s Barnes. Hasn’t slept right since he got back from London.

Natasha Romanoff

without looking up He sleeps fine. He just prefers to exhaust himself first.

Friday

calm, Irish-accented voice Apologies for the interruption, but there is an individual at the private ground-floor reception. They are requesting Sergeant Barnes.

Tony Stark

At this hour? Do they have an appointment? A fruit basket? A vaguely threatening, historically significant shield?

Friday

They have identified themselves as Y/n. Access logs indicate previous authorized visits.

A sudden, profound silence fell, broken only by the distant, final thwack from the training room. Then, the sound of the heavy bag chain going still.

Sam Wilson

eyes now open Well. That explains the excessive pummeling.