"Claire," Steve whispered, nuzzling my neck gently and kissing my earlobe, "You're beautiful."

I smiled and felt a blush creep up my cheeks, rolling over so I was snuggled against him. "You aren't so bad yourself, Captain."

He laughed, and I felt his bare chest move under mine. He pushed back a lock of my hair and kissed my forehead, his blue eyes crinkling up in the corners. "I mean it."

The blush darkened, and he leaned in, about to kiss me on the lips.



I jolted awake, breathing heavily. I was alone in my room, which now stank of paint as Clint and I had spent most of the previous night and that morning changing the walls to a dark red. I looked around, my eyes darting to the space beside me in bed. Nope, no Steve.

I fell back onto the bed sheets, my head in my hands. I'd been at SHIELD for three weeks now, and with every passing day I was finding it harder and harder to drool unattractively as Steve and I came into contact. Of course, nothing could beat the two of us groping around in the darkened Wardrobe for twenty minutes on my third day.

I lay in bed for a few more minutes, staring up at my ceiling and trying in vain to get the image of semi-naked Steve out of my head. Nope. The image was staying right where it was.

"You need a walk, Claire." I told myself, hauling my legs out of bed, and glancing down at myself. A crop top and panties. Probably not the best clothing for a midnight escapade, especially if Tony was wandering the halls.

I looked through my closet and tried to find the pajama bottoms that Natasha had promised me I'd been given, but all I could find were a pair of black shorts, which I begrudgingly pulled on.

"Better than nothing I suppose." I muttered, stepping out into the cool hallway.

No-one was around, and I felt a little more at ease about myrevealing attire. I padded down the hallway, pushing the door open to the kitchen and slipping inside. The kitchen itself was even cooler than the hallway, which was welcome seeing as the Summer was fast approaching and temperatures of 100 degrees weren't uncommon. I stepped a little further inside, feeling goosebumps rise along my arms, and felt along the wall for the light switch, connecting instead with someone's hand. I squeaked and jumped back as the lights came on.

Terrific. Just fantastic. The little voice in the back of my head muttered. Exactly what I needed. Steve.

Seriously, with the slightly mussed up hair that stuck up at the back, and the rumpled t-shirt that clung oh-so nicely to those fine biceps? That lopsided smile which was sure as hell laughing at me right now, and the bluer than blue eyes that were gently crinkled up at the corners.

Just like in your dream.

Trying to ignore the burning sensation in my cheeks that was becoming a regular occurrence, I managed to smile at him. "Hi."

"We should probably stop bumping into each other in the dark like this." He told me with a gentle laugh, before glancing down and realizing what I was wearing. Or, more precisely, what I wasn't wearing. It was his turn to blush, and he averted his eyes as only a 1940's gentleman would do, mumbling something incoherently about getting a drink. I watched him move past me and over to the refrigerator, where he pulled out a bottle of juice and held it out for me. I accepted it, and gratefully took a swig, watching as he got his own bottle.

He leaned against the counter and drank silently, before opening the blinds and looking out over New York. I could see from his profile that something was wrong. His lower lips was stuck out slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck, sighing.

"Steve?"

He ignored me. It was almost as if he hadn't heard me. I put my juice down on the island counter and walked over to stand beside him.

"It's changed so much..." he whispered, his voice catching.

I watched as he touched two fingers to the glass, gazing out across the skyline

How the hell do you comfort a Super-Soldier? More importantly, how the hell do you comfort a Super-Soldier who's ninety years old?

I opted for the gentle hand on shoulder, subconsciously massaging it with my fingertips. He looked down at it and then back up at me, blinking repeatedly. Oh Jesus Christ, he wasn't going to cry, was he?

Thankfully, he didn't, and I could relax, going back to rubbing his shoulder. I started to massage it a little bit harder, digging into the muscle with the palm of my hand. He arched his back and closed his eyes, and a flicker of a smile crossed his face.

"Nice?" I asked with a laugh, and he nodded enthusiastically, turning so that his back was to me. I took the hint and began to massage his shoulders with both hands.

A low moan escaped his lips and he slumped his shoulders. I felt the muscles relax underneath my hands, and he leaned heavily against the counter.

"Very nice." He mumbled, turning to face me and staring me straight in the eye. "In fact, a very good way of making me forget what I was thinking about."

"Well you were tense." I said quietly, feeling the blush creep up my cheeks.

"Not anymore." he picked up his juice and took a swig of it, before moving past me and to the door. "Thanks, and I'll see you in the morning."

I watched as the door closed behind him, and sank back against the counter, grinning like a crazy lady. I'd just given Captain America a massage. And he'd liked it. My time at SHIELD was looking to be a lot better than I'd first thought.

---

When I walked into the meeting room the next day, Tony was talking in a hushed whisper with Nick Fury. The two of them looked up in surprise when I entered.

"Agent Reynolds!" Fury snapped, "Meeting doesn't start until eleven. It's ten fifty."

I shrugged, "You're always mad at me for being late." I made my way over to them and peeked at the folder, which Tony snatched away.

Something flared up inside me. Why were they keeping a file from me? We always shared files with each other, relevant to a mission or not. What the hell was Tony playing at?

"Oh, hey Pepper!" I waved to a spot behind Tony, and when he turned his head I snatched the file from him.

"Claire!"

"Agent Reynolds." Fury barked, but, ignoring them, I opened the file.

"Who's Susan Reynolds?" I asked, the name ringing a bell somewhere in the back of my mind, looking through her personal details. Mother's maiden name: Nickelson. That name was familiar. Where had I seen it before?

Siblings.

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped.

"Claire." Tony said softly behind me. I ignored him.

Siblings. Reynolds, Claire.

"Who the hell is this?" I hissed, whirling around to face Tony, who shrank back, shooting Fury a sideways glance that clearly said 'you tell her'.

"Agent Reynolds," Fury stood up and took a few steps towards me, "The woman in that file is your younger sister."

I stared at him.

"Stark, I thought you said you explained all this to her."

Tony frowned. "I thought we had."

There was a long silence while the three of us looked at each other, before Fury stormed out of the room, saying something about getting Bruce.

"Have a seat," Tony offered, giving me a weary look. I sat down, and he followed, sitting opposite me.

"Okay Claire. You remember-"

The door opened and Natasha, Clint and Steve walked in, laughing loudly. They stopped when the saw us.

"Where's Fury?" Clint asked, wandering over and taking the seat next to me.

"Gone to get Bruce." Tony grunted, "Her memory's gone."

"Oh." Natasha sat down next to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. She stopped when she saw the file in my hands, and her face turned stony.

"You showed her that file?!" she cried, glaring at Tony, who shrunk back from her.

"She stole it from me!" He cried defensively, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Claire, come on, I'll take you to Bruce and we'll get him to explain it." she said, shooting Tony another cold glance and leading me out of the room. I caught Steve's glance, and he opened his mouth to say something, but before he could speak Natasha had whisked me out of the room and down the corridor to see Bruce.