The Avengers Compound didn’t look like the headquarters of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. It looked like a tech company’s wet dream had a baby with a military base and then sent that baby to finishing school.

Y/n’s suitcase wheels rattled over the polished floor like tiny judgmental applause.

The place was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. The kind of quiet that suggested everyone was either off saving the world, training, or pretending not to eavesdrop through an AI that absolutely was eavesdropping.

FRIDAY had already cleared Y/n at the gate. No fuss. No alarms. Just a pleasant automated voice and a door that opened like it had been expecting them. Because it had been.

Bucky’s instructions had been simple: Make yourself at home. If I’m not back, wait in the common room. Don’t touch anything Tony built. Especially not the toaster.

Which was why Y/n was currently wandering through the Compound, dragging a suitcase and looking for somewhere to collapse.

The room they found was huge. Open. Sunlight poured through floor-to-ceiling windows. Furniture that probably cost more than Y/n’s entire degree. A kitchen that looked like it had never once been used for anything except making coffee and regretting life choices.

And standing in the middle of it, arms crossed, was Steve Rogers.