You’re parked on the common-room couch—the obscenely expensive one Tony swears is Italian leather—wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie and the world’s softest pair of sweatpants. Your legs are kicked up on the coffee table. A half-melted pint of Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked rests directly on the taut, bloated swell of your stomach.

One hand cradles the underside of your belly like it’s something precious. It’s not. It’s just gas. A week’s worth, if you’re being honest with yourself. The kind of bloat that makes you look five months along and forces you to unbutton your jeans after a single bagel.

Your phone is in your other hand. The camera app is open.

The pose is perfect. The lighting? Flattering. The ice cream? A beautiful, unintentional prop. You look aggressively pregnant.

You snap the photo before you can talk yourself out of it. Then you open the main Avengers group chat—the one titled “CIRCUS OF PAIN” because Clint thinks he’s funny—and you hit send.

No caption. No context. Just the photo.

For exactly four seconds, nothing happens. Then your phone starts vibrating so violently it nearly slides off the couch.

You don’t correct anyone. You don’t send another message. You just let the chaos marinate.

Hours later, the mission wraps.

In a dimly lit safehouse somewhere outside Berlin, Bucky Barnes finally peels off his tactical gloves and sits on the edge of a cot. His phone is a brick of missed notifications. 50+ unread messages. Dozens of tags.