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Sam created a buffet of breakfast foods for me to wake up to. I waddled into the kitchen and took a seat. He pushed a plate forward.

"This was really nice of you, Sam, thanks," I said.

"We have to talk," said Sam. Judging by the serious tone that laced his words, I assumed it was about either Steve or Bucky Barnes.

"About what?" I asked.

"Steve."

"What about him?" I asked.

Sam's eye twitched in annoyance. "Steve," he said slowly, "And you."

"Oh, yes, we've had some great times the last couple months. He's tremendous fun," I chimed happily.

"Clara, I meant together. Like together together."

I widened my eyes. I grabbed my orange juice and started to sip it slowly, buying myself time to find a response.

"Don't think I haven't noticed there's something going on, woman!" he accused.

I finished off my orange juice and set the glass back on the table awkwardly. My eyes searched for a way to get out of the conversation, but nothing obvious was jumping out.

"Nothing romantic has happened," I said.

Sam pointed his fork directly at my face. "First, you're lying. Second, have you not noticed the signs? I'm pretty sure you've been giving them yourself."

I maneuvered my fork around my plate. I had noticed some mutual attraction, or, at least, myself accidentally flirting and Steve saying something flirty that made me realize I generated it. I had the dating skills of a first grader. I knew little to nothing about how to make a move, or date, or purposely flirt. It wasn't something necessary in S.H.I.E.L.D. training.

Slowly, I was starting to realize, the longer I was without a job at S.H.I.E.L.D., the more I realized how much of a chance normal life it took from me.

"I can see it in your eyes. You're just realizing the attraction," predicted Sam.

"I mean, I don't know. I think it's mutual," I said, shrugging my shoulders. I groaned. "Sam, I haven't been on a date since S.H.I.E.L.D. training. That was, like, seven years ago."

Sam's eyes widened. "You're kidding! How? You're so..."

"Awkward?" I finished, tilting my head knowingly, "I know. Apparently I am not a catch."

"Well, you caught the attention of a good one. Are you going to make your move?"

I stared at him wide eyed. I waved my hands in the air, referring to myself. "Sam, you've met me. I have the confidence of a baby turtle. What do you think?"

"Fair enough," he agreed.

"I'm too scared to tell him how I feel anyway," I said.

"Clara Blake, while I'm here, I'm designating myself as your wingman. I will aid you in the art of attraction, and in the end, get you the guy of your dreams."

"Well, wait, I didn't say I wanted to date him. We're Avengers, our priority is saving the world, not each other--" I tried to say.

Sam predicted my rambling and hushed me loudly, successfully silencing me. "I know what I'm doing. Do you accept?"

"Um.. I guess.." I mumbled.

Sam then tore though my closet like a complete maniac, scavenging for the right outfit. He blabbed the entire time about my lack of nice civilian clothing. I didn't blame him. Working at S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't given me much of a wardrobe, nor an after-work life.

In Your Eyes // Steve RogersWhere stories live. Discover now