You were laying on the couch with your head on Steve's lap. He was watching Return of the Jedi for the first time.

"I wonder if my shield could repel a lightsaber," he said, playing absentmindedly with your hair.

"Good question. I think it would. You wouldn't need the Force to kick some Vader ass, and you wouldn't lose a hand in the process."

He laughed. "These movies are really good. How many are there?"

"Well, if you include the prequels, there's 6. The prequels didn't really live up to the original 3, though. I would die happier if I never encountered Jar Jar Binks again."

"Jar Jar Binks? What's that?"

"He's an alien from Naboo and is possibly the best example in the history of cinema of how to not do comic relief."

"I'm sure he's not that bad."

"Oh, but he is. Trust me."

He smiled down at you and then returned his attention to the TV. The movie was almost over.

"I'm hungry," you complained. "What do you want for dinner?"

"I could go for some pizza," he said.

You thumbed through your cell phone contacts and called his favorite pizza place for delivery, ordering a large pizza with his favorite toppings and a medium with yours. You'd unintentionally memorized them at some point during the past several months. That meant you were spending too much time with him, ordering pizza too often or maybe a little bit of both.

Somehow, you'd maintained your efforts in the "no labels" department, probably to his chagrin, but each of you had a drawer in the other's apartment. You chose to ignore that fact. It hadn't been the result of deep thought or consideration, just seemed natural since you spent more nights together than apart.

You rationalized it all, down to the last detail, because you weren't falling in love with Steve. It was a simple fact. He was a friend, technically your best friend because you drifted away from everyone else. It was hard to say no to him, and you'd already established the rule that part of discreet was avoiding your friends and their tendencies to talk. You'd avoided your friends to the point that they quit trying.

You had 2 weeks of vacation at work that you had to use, or you'd lose it. Sitting around in your apartment wasn't particularly appealing. You'd go somewhere or do something alone, but that was always less fun than sharing a trip with someone else. Steve was the only person you knew well enough and had talked to recently to ask to go with you. So you came to the conclusion that asking him was the logical decision.

"I've got some vacation coming up at work," you said. "Do you want to do something?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Go somewhere? What's on your bucket list?"

"Bucket list?"

"The things you want to do before you die."

He paused thoughtfully. "There's one thing. It's kind of silly, though."

"I'm sure it's not." You were reasonably sure at least.

"Well, there was this amusement park ride," he started.

"Like a roller coaster?" you asked.

"No, those made me throw up. Bucky talked about taking this girl on the Tunnel of Love ride, and I always wanted to do that."

"You want to take me on the Tunnel of Love ride?" you asked.

"Yeah, but we don't have to if you don't want to." He squeezed your arm.

You thought about it for a moment and its implications. It wasn't like you hadn't made out with him before in the dark more times than you could count, but it was the Tunnel of Love. It was for people with the labels you avoided. Hard to say no to him won out. "We can do that. Just have to find one."

He smiled and leaned over to kiss you.

You grabbed your phone again and did a quick search. You found the nearest still operational Tunnel of Love was in Pennsylvania several hours away.

"The nearest one isn't very close. Will you be able to slip away for a day or two?" you asked.

"I'll ask Fury. I wouldn't see why not, though."

There was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," Steve said.

You sat up and waited until he returned with two boxes of pizza, laying them on your coffee table.

You both grabbed a slice and started eating.

"Do you want to watch anything now?" you asked.

He shrugged. "Whatever you want to watch is fine with me."

You flipped through the channels and settled on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire as background noise.

"I wish I could devour an entire pizza and still have a body like yours," you commented.

"I workout, too," he said between bites.

"What kind of routine do you do?"

"Mostly running, punching bag, sparring."

"Could we?" you asked.

"Could we what?"

"Spar. You'd have to show me how, but I should probably learn how to defend myself anyway. Taking a self-defense class is something I've never gotten around to doing."

"Okay, I'll take you to the gym in the tower."

"No one will ask any questions?" You didn't want to make things awkward for him.

"Clint and Tasha are out on a mission, and Thor left to go to Asgard, and Tony's on a business trip. Bruce minds his own business for the most part."

"You mean now?"

"Why not? You don't seem that interested in watching Jeopardy."

"True," you admitted, not bothering to correct him. "I could work off the calories from the pizza."

He laughed and grabbed the pizza boxes to toss in the dumpster outside while you flipped off the TV.