A/N: This is an OC chapter, not a reader insert, because I was coming up on a writers block for a Steve fic and I had this already written in my folder somewhere. I actually really like this idea for something lengthier but I'm keeping it here for now as an imagine :) Enjoy!

PS LOOK AT THOSE HANDSOME HANDS IN THAT GIF!! AHHhhhhhHHhh KILL ME NOW...

-Winnie

Words: 5.2K

"You need a superhero name," Thor's voice is loud and bouncy as he saunters into the largest suite of the building. It's the room where the big fluffy couches lie and the flat screen TV hangs from the large wall mounted with framed pictures and articles of all the Avengers.

"Superhero name? What's wrong with my regular name?" the newest member of the team, a young woman with long chestnut hair and glimmering blue eyes questions from her spot on the sofa between Natasha and Clint.

Clint reaches over to the bowl of cheese puffs that the girl hoards to herself in her cross-legged lap. "It's boring," he answers simply while crunching down on a bright orange powdered ball. "The people want something catchy and fun. No offense, kid; but Hazel isn't a ton of fun."

Hazel opens her mouth to defend herself but she's overtaken by Nat's voice.

"And more importantly, HQ wants a fancy title to smack on the headlines." She gestures with a nimble hand to the black and white newspapers on the wall before them.

Hazel frowns and stares at the flickering images of an ocean on the TV. "How did you guys pick yours?"

The entire room shudders as Thor throws himself into the reclining chair. He lobs the locks of long blond hair to one shoulder, saying, "I was born for mine."

"Mine was kind of a group effort. Seemed pretty obvious," Clint, also known as Hawkeye, replies with a lame shoulder shrug. He nestles farther into his side of the couch and goes back to watching the nature documentary channel.

"The press came up with it," the Black Widow tells Hazel. Hazel looks over to the woman with the fiery red hair and narrow eyes. Nat hardly glances up from her book that she's reading as she speaks. "I hated it at first, but it's a part of me now whether I like it or not."

"Alright," Hazel breathes. "What should mine be then?"

"Hey—we've got enough on our plates," Clint chuckles, "Come up with your own damn name."

Hazel feigns a frown. "Looks to me like the only thing on your plate is my Cheetos that you keep stealing."

Clint laughs with a shrug.

"Technically," a loud and obnoxiously entitled voice sounds from the doorway. In walks Mr. Tony Stark himself. "I paid for the cheese puffs," he goes on to say. He stops above where Hazel sits on the couch to snatch the bowl from her hands. She pouts and he simply moves on. "So they're mine."

Tony takes the bowl to one of the other free seats in the room. He lounges down with his arms and legs sprawled like he owns the place—well, he does—so he can.

"What do you think, Tony?"

"About what, Pixie?" Tony replies half-interestedly using the nickname he's come up for her on account of her size and strangely fairy-like demeanor. "About you being a food thief?" He shoves a few puffs into his mouth. "I think your snacking habits are going to put me out of house and home, is what I think. I've paid more in groceries since you've been here than I have since we started this whole shit show."

"She's a kid—kids need food to grow," Clint answers with another shrug.

Hazel frowns. "I'm hardly a kid! I'm twenty-two, you know."

"Really?" Tony teases. He pulls down his sunglasses as if to inspect the girl on the couch. "Could've fooled me. You're so..." he waves his hands in search of the word. "Small."

"And adorable," Nat mocks playfully. She pinches Hazel's blushing cheek until Hazel weakly pushes her away.

Hazel sighs while the rest of them chuckle. "Whatever," she finally indulges on a small laugh. "What I meant, Tony, was what you thought about me picking a name."

Tony raises a fluffy eyebrow. "You're finally doing that? Thank god," he huffs. "HQ's been on my ass about it all week."

"Green Girl!" Thor bursts with pride and a loud shout. Hazel startles while the others all shake their heads in tired denial. Suddenly his grin is replaced with a pout. "I thought it was rather good," he mutters—deflating back into the recliner with a frown.

"Flower Power?" Clint chuckles.

Hazel laughs along with him but still manages to elbow him in the side. "Shut up, Bird Brain."

"That's demeaning, Clint," Nat speaks up. She smirks. "I was thinking more of something along the lines of Nightshade." She flips to the next page in her book.

"Clever," Clint agrees with a hum. "Plant themed but dangerous."

"But I don't want to sound dangerous," Hazel sighs.

Tony grunts, "Don't have to worry about that, Pixie." He looks away from the Nat Geo channel to where she sits in the pale yellow sundress and braided leather sandals. "You have the fear factor of a daffodil." He picks up his drink, a cup of crisp cold water, and is shocked into nearly dropping the cup when something prods him straight between the eyes. He blinks at the yellow sunshiny flower that has suddenly sprouted out of nothing from the water glass in his hands. Glaring, he looks to Hazel. She swallows a round of laughter and quickly looks away. Tony plucks the daffodil, muttering, "Very funny, Pixie."

"What's funny?" someone inquires upon stepping into the room. No one has to look to see who it is, because by the smell of black coffee and clean cotton combined with the familiar ringing of his voice it's known to be Steve Rogers. But even still, Hazel finds herself turning to see him. Steve saunters into the living suite with a cap on his head and hands in his pockets. He flashes that bright pearly grin when their blue eyes meet.

"Pixie over here is playing fairy tricks on Stark," Nat answers for the group.

"Ah, I like a good prank." Steve sits on one of the many free white suede loungers.

"It wasn't a very good one." Tony tosses the flower to the coffee table top.

"If it makes you sulk like you are now," Steve chuckles, "then it's good enough for me." He looks up to the television as the Australian host rambles about sewage overflow. "What the hell are we watching?"

"It is Pixie's turn to pick in viewing a channel," Thor sighs. "We could be watching those disastrously amazing fights that they perform in those ringed cages, but the small girl has much stranger preferences."

"I say I should get to pick," Nat interrupts. "I'm the only one without a TV in their room."

Hazel hurries to grab the remote again and clutch it to her chest. "No way," she says with a brisk shake of her head. Steve can't help but notice how soft her long chestnut hair looks to be as it all sways over her dainty shoulders. "We watched your show yesterday, Nat, and it gave me nightmares."

"Aww," Tony play-pouts. "Did the itty bitty fairy girl get bad dreams last night?"

Hazel sticks out her tongue to the middle aged man, and to no one's surprise, he replies with the same childish gesture.

"What'd you make her watch this time, Nat?" Steve chuckles. He swings his legs up on the ottoman and crosses his arms behind his blond head.

Nat shrugs lethargically. "Just a few of the classics."

"Texas Chainsaw Massacre is NOT a classic!" Hazel argues.

"Arguable," Clint says.

"No, no, no," Steve pipes up with a brisk shake of his head. "The classics are Gone with the Wind, Wizard of Oz..." he begins to list adamantly.

Hazel speaks up to help in his naming, "Casablanca, King Kong, Sabrina..."

"Exactly!" Steve agrees with a radiant grin. He points to the girl on the couch across the room with a wink. "She knows what she's talking about."

"You guys are lame," Tony sighs. "I could come up with a hundred more classic movie titles than that—all of them better, too."

"Like what? Sharknado?" Hazel mocks.

Thor straightens in his seat. "A what-nado now? I have no understanding of what you are referring to, Pixie child."

Tony ignores Thor's confusion. "The Godfather, Pulp Fiction, the Terminator..."

"Never seen any of them," Steve interrupts with a shrug.

"Of course you haven't, Grandpa." Nat smirks while Hazel tries to fight a laugh.

"I say we put this argument to the test," Clint supposes. Everyone looks to him. "Each of us will pick out our version of a classic movie, and then we'll watch them all and take a vote."

"Sounds fun to me," Hazel agrees. "When are we doing this?"

Tony groans like an old man as he stands. "Tomorrow." He points a finger at Hazel and her eyes widen. "The same day that your new name is due."

"Tomorrow!?" she repeats in a yelp. "That's not enough time."

"Think of something," he tells her simply as he goes to leave—already bored with their company. "Or I'm telling Fury that you're strictly going by Pixie!"

Hazel pushes her face into her hands. Steve watches her hunched over with a grin tugging at his lips. Nat catches his eye and he coughs—turning his head away as if caught up in a sharp wind. Nat smirks knowingly before going back to reading her book.

That evening, many hours later, Steve is wandering back to his room from the kitchen with a glass of water and a plate full of apple slices when he notices that a light from an open door is falling across the path to the elevator. He looks all around him, seeing that he's truly alone, and then follows the light. It's past three AM and he can't imagine who else is awake at this ungodly hour.

The warm yellow glow against the floor leads down the hall to the right of the elevator and to the farthest room. He doesn't know if he's ever been this way before. Between saving the world and switching from New York Stark towers to here at the Avengers home base there hasn't been much time for frivolous exploring.

At the end of the hall is a cracked door. Steve gently pushes it inwards with a bare foot and stares around him at the floor to ceiling books that line the shelved walls. A big window overlooking the grassy plains outside where people usually spar and train is now filled with glittering starlight. At a desk and surrounded by dozens of opened, dog eared encyclopedias is Hazel in a pair of loose sleeping shorts and a baggy California tourist t-shirt. She peers up past the pages of a worn dictionary when she sees the shadow Captain America enter the room.

"Hello," Hazel greets.

Steve chuckles. "What are you doing?" He raises a bushy eyebrow and waits for the girl to elaborate.

With a sigh Hazel sets down the big book. Steve notices now that she's wearing adorable wire spectacles that he's never seen before. Without meaning to he comes closer into the room until he's standing on the other side of the desk that she's moping at.

"Looking for a name," Hazel replies.

"And you think you'll find one in a book somewhere?" Steve has to fight the urge to chuckle.

Hazel notices his humored lip tilt. "How else am I supposed to come up with one?" she questions. She picks up the closest book—a Latin plant encyclopedia. "I need something good before Stark forces me to go with Pixie." She frowns and runs a hand through her knotted brown locks. "And I'm not looking forward to being called Tinkerbell and the likes by the press."

Steve lets out a breathy laugh. "Good point," he says. Firstly he sets down his plate of apples and the glass of crisp tap water. Then he moves to grab a rickety wooden chair and bring it to the spot next to Hazel at the desk.

"What are you doing?" she asks cluelessly.

Steve smiles. "Helping you out," he replies as if it's the most obvious thing in the world while she's left to wonder why on earth he'd be offering to stay awake all night in her company. "I kinda owe you after you healed me," he says with grin. "And besides," Steve goes on with a pretty twinkle to his blue eyes, "It could be fun."

"We'll see about that, Cap," Hazel says but she can't help but smile. "Here." She plops a big red book onto the spot before him on the table. "You can start with this one."

"Sure," Steve agrees much too eagerly.

Hazel eyes him, curious and intrigued, saying, "Thanks, Steve."

He looks up at her with his pink lips tilting up. "Anytime, Tinkerbell."

Hazel laughs and shoves him gently. He giggles, too, feeling his face aching with the contagious smile.

Two hours later and the pair have made no major advances in the name game. Hazel absently wanders from one bookshelf to the next while staring at the blurred titles before her tired eyes. Steve, meanwhile, watches her bare legs padding across the floor with a strange bundling feeling deep in his chest.

Shaking his head, Steve quickly looks back to the page. "How about this one?" Steve wonders aloud. "Achillea ptarmica," he struggles to read. "We could work something out of that." He looks up from the pictures of the white flower to Hazel as she wanders still. "It's pretty."

"It's known as the sneezewort, Steve. I don't want to be known as the sneezewort."

Steve chuckles. "Okay, good to know." He flips to the next page. "How do you even have these things memorized? There's so many of them."

Hazel shrugs. "It's in my DNA, I guess." Her eyes scan over the titles of the remaining books on the walls. "Partly because my mother was a botanist and my father a biologist, but also because they tweaked me into a walking weed."

Steve swallows stiffly. But Hazel doesn't seem bothered at the mentioning of her mad scientist parents who turned her into the green-thumbed creature she is today.

"Wait," Hazel says and comes to a halt. She spins around on a heel and points to Steve. "Weeds."

"What about them?"

Hazel scurries to the books littering the table. "Where's the one about North American botany?"

Steve finds it before she does and promptly passes it over. Hazel flops to a seat on the floor, apparently finding the nearest chair too far, and lays the book in her lap. Steve peers down to her with a curious tilt to his eyebrow.

"Here," Hazel breathes with excitement palpable on her tongue.

Steve doesn't seem impressed. "Annual ragweed?" he reads with a questioning tone. "I don't know, Haze."

"Ambrosia artemisiifolia," she promptly tells him of the scientific name. A beaming smile has taken over her pretty face. "They used to grow all over my lawn as a kid. No one seemed to care very much that they were there," she begins to explain. "But the scientific name means so much more than it lets on. I was always a literature buff—mythology, specifically—and the fact that both the first and last terms were of Greek fable origin always intrigued me."

Steve finally catches on. "Ambrosia? Like the drink that they say the Greek gods would drink?"

Hazel nods her dark haired head with a smile still plastered on her lips. "Exactly," she says, "The same one that was said to give them longer, healthier lives..."

"And heal them," Steve carries on—remembering how Hazel's healing powers helped him walk away from a bullet wound just two weeks ago.

"Precisely."

Steve now smiles, too. He leans farther back into his chair and almost laughs with excitement. "I think you just found your name."

Hazel looks down to the picture of the jade green, leafy weed on the pages of the American Botany literature piece. "I think I did."

When the day comes and everyone gathers in the cinema room, Tony of course is the very last to arrive. The very front row is taken up by Wanda, Hazel, Nat, and Steve who each have a tub of their own buttery popcorn—all but Steve and Hazel that is. He claimed that he'd grab the bigger bowl and they could just share, to which she shrugged in lethargic agreement, only for Nat to roll her eyes and move to let Steve sit beside the pretty new girl like he not-so-secretly wishes to.

"Stop being a pussy," Nat hisses into Steve's ear.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he grumbles in reply, already feeling his cheeks heating up.

Before Nat can go on, Hazel's green tipped fingers reach out to latch onto Steve's arm. He swears he feels his heart stop dead in his chest. He looks over to her, seeing that she's staring up at the top of the stairs where Tony saunters into the room. She smiles broadly to Steve before dashing up to meet Tony at the foot of the stairs to tell him the news.

Hazel scurries to block Tony's path. He pulls off his dark shades, sighing tiredly at her exhausting optimism. "What is it, Pixie?"

"I found a name," she excitedly spurts out.

"You've decided upon a title! How delightful! Congratulations, Pixie girl!" Thor can be heard cheering from the row directly to their right. Hazel gives him two thumbs up and he winks cheekily before mowing down on his third Hershey's bar. The movie marathon has yet to even begin and he's already halfway through the snack stash.

"Well? What is it?" Tony goes on to badger.

The whole room seems to be listening in now: Scarlet Witch, Black Widow, Captain America, Thor, Hawkeye, Vision, Falcon, The Winter Solider, Hulk (in Bruce Banner form, of course) and of course Iron Man himself. 

Hazel feels the eyes of all the heroes onto her pale face, yet she still manages to clear her throat and confidently announce, "Ambrosia."

Tony's mouth has opened to shoot down the response, but suddenly he pauses.

"It's..." he begins. Everyone waits to hear what his response will be—especially Hazel. His eyes, dark and brooding, soften at the sight of her innocently waiting face. The way her big blue eyes are opened wide and her peachy pink pout it poised like that of a sweet child's. "It's not that bad, kid."

"Really?" Hazel breathes in excitement. She can't help but look back to Steve, who shoots her a subtle wink. "So," she goes on and turns back to Tony. "I can keep it?"

Tony nods.

Letting out a little squeal of glee, Hazel has thrown her arms around Tony's neck to hug him gladly. He staggers back, surprised by the gesture, before ultimately chuckling and patting her awkwardly on the shoulder.

"Okay, okay, now get off of me," he tries to sound mean but ends up chuckling instead.

"Right, sorry," she laughs. She quickly pulls away and tucks some hair behind her pierced ear. "Thanks, Tony."

"Sure," he replies. "We'll talk about your uniform tomorrow."

"Uniform?" she repeats.

"Duh!" Sam Wilson shouts out from the third row. "You think we all get badass outfits and you had to wear a sweat suit or something?"

Hazel scratches the back of her neck. "I guess I didn't really think about it."

"Like I said," Tony goes, "We'll talk about it tomorrow." He gestures for her to move from his path with a wave of his hand. "Let's watch the movies."

Hazel hurries back to her seat between Wanda and Steve. With a sigh she settles down into the comfy leather before grinning in response to Wanda's encouraging smile. Steve reaches over to give Hazel's knee a squeeze, stealing the air from her lungs, and she turns to look into his deep blue eyes.

"I told you he'd like it," Steve whispers into her ear just as the lights begin to dim.

Thor stands up in the back. "My film is first! I have chosen one of the very first films I have ever watched from your petty, strange culture. And it's called," the blond pauses as if adding dramatic effect, in which during the time Hazel and Steve share soft chuckles. "Frozen."

Hazel's laughter bubbles out of her Chapstick swathed lips and soon everyone else is doubled over in a combination of giggles and chortles.

Thor scowls at the group. He goes to yell, but Sam takes him by the arm and tugs him back to his seat. He continues to sulk as the opening credits begin to roll. Before long, Hazel turns around and reassures her friend, "Good choice, Thor. This has always been one of my favorites."

His cheeks lift in a beam. "Really?"

Hazel nods enthusiastically.

"Thank you, Pixie. I knew you were slightly intelligent for a mortal."

"Thanks..." Hazel blinks in confusion as Thor turns his attention back to the huge theatre screen and she turns back in her seat. "I think." With a shrug she settles back down.

The first half hour of the film no one speaks. Hazel has curled her legs up to her chest and now rests her cheek on her knees with her electric sapphire eyes taking in every bit of the screen. She knows Captain America is beside her, and she knows that she can smell the cologne on his long shirt sleeves, but she forces herself to ignore both of these things as Elsa and Anna sing.

But the movie is all but forgotten when Steve leans into her ear about forty minutes in, whispering, "What are we watching after this?" His eyes struggle to stay rooted on the screen as he knows her lips will come to his ear next.

"Pulp Fiction," she replies in just as meager of a tone. "Tony's pick."

Steve waits a few seconds, not wanting to seem too eager, before tilting to the side and asking, "Do you think I'll like it?"

Hazel's lips curl up in a quiet smile. How can he be so effortlessly charming, she wonders, and so simply cute? "I think so," she whispers, "But not as much as you'll like mine."

Steve bites his bottom lip to keep from grinning like a fool at her infectiously giddy tone. "What'd you pick?"

Someone whaps Steve along the head with a flattened pillow. He whirls around, glaring, to find that Bucky Barnes is hushing him with a loud hissing noise. "I'm trying to watch the movie, asshole, so hush up."

"You're the one who hit me, jerk!"

"Shh," Hazel hushes around a strangled giggle. She takes Steve's hand, a gesture he certainly notices with appreciation, and lowers him back facing away from Bucky with a tug. Their hands only release when she realizes that she's been holding it for a few moments too long, but both of them miss the feeling of the other's skin.

Hazel shimmies up to whisper even closer and even quieter into Steve's awaiting ear amidst the clean, short trimmed blonde hair. "I picked Roman Holiday, by the way."

Steve can't help but grin. "One of my favorites," he mutters softly. "Want to know what I picked?" Hazel nods, resulting in his chuckling yet again. "Well, Sunshine, I picked Wizard of Oz."

"One of the greats," Hazel responds. She reaches over to pluck a handful of popcorn from the tub in Steve's lap.

"Precisely," he agrees with a nod.

"Can you two please shut up?" Nat whines loudly from Steve's right side.

"Sorry, Nat," Hazel whispers sympathetically. She nuzzles farther into her fluffy seat, finding her opened can of Coke and taking a long sip, and then notices out of the corner of her eye how Steve's blue gaze is nestled onto her face. When she reacts with a stare of her own he quickly turns his attention back to the Disney musical.

Pulp Fiction comes next, then Shawshank Redemption—which is Clint's pick, followed by Steve's choice and then Hazel's. The final film of the night is Psycho. Of course Natasha had to pick another horror film simply based upon Hazel's hysterical reactions to the first two.

"No, no, no!" Hazel chants when Tony requests the computerized home to play the final movie. Hazel leans over Steve's lap to glare at a cackling Natasha. "Another horror film?! How could you?"

"Because you're so damn fun to scare!" Nat tells her.

"Don't be such a pansy, flower child!" Sam shouts out with his hands cupped around his mouth. Hazel turns to stick her tongue out at him. The laughter in the room only grows.

Steve looks to Hazel with a slight sway to his head. This is the very same girl who killed twelve terrorists before even joining the Avenger's league. The video of her viral, grotesque, leafy-green slaughtering of the terrorists were what dragged her out of the darkness of her small town and into Stark's hands. How she can be so powerful yet so blissfully innocent is beyond Steve's comprehension, but it's utterly enchanting.

"I hate you, Nat," Hazel tries to sound intimidating but only makes a few more of them laugh. Even Vision, who isn't even human, chuckles.

"I can live with that." Natasha winks.

Tony purposely instructs for the lights to be turned all the way off now so that the theater is swallowed in eerie darkness. Hazel sits with her legs drawn up to her chest and her eyes struggling to avert from the screen as the film slowly begins. Before anything can even happen, someone in the farthest row lets out a shrill scream. Hazel responds by screaming, too, covering the sides of her head and ducking away. The laughter that ensues is harder than any of them have indulged since... well, forever, actually. Wanda leans back, eyes closed, and giggles like a school girl. Steve grapples onto his chest while trying to steady himself in the chair with a free hand.

"Screw you, Sam!" Hazel yelps up to him. She blindly throws a handful of popcorn that Bucky and Thor have to dodge.

Sam Wilson clutches onto his stomach and doubles over onto himself with laughter. Even the most stoic of them all, Bucky Barnes, is cackling.

"Come on, idiots. Let's just watch the movie so we can get this over with," Tony's voice rings out. The movie has been paused for the duration of the hysterical reaction to Sam's charade.

Not five minutes into the movie and Hazel's already a nervous wreck again. She reminds herself that it's just a silly movie—just a stupid, dumb flick. But still, the fear manages to slither past her snowy skin and into her core where she can feel her heart hammering like a machine gun.

But then she feels something warm and slightly strange. Steve Rogers has reached over the barrier of their two chairs to softly take Hazel's hand in his own. Her fingers are so small, soft, and dainty compared to his large rough ones. When he gives her a reassuring squeeze, Hazel finds herself smiling dreamily. It's not long after that—half an hour maybe—and Hazel takes this golden opportunity to lean onto Steve's firm muscled side where his firm bicep meets his shoulder. For a moment he's rigid beneath her, but then he feels the warmness of her body and the soothing falling of her breaths and it's like he's put into a trance. He gives her hand another squeeze, lifting their entwined limbs to rest on his long leg.

When Psycho ends and the lights begin to brighten, Hazel quickly releases Steve's hand and settles back to her original position. Steve, pretending not to be hurt, scratches his jaw and turns back to see if Bucky's got anything smart to say. Bucky Barnes, Steve's best friend, is smirking like a fool and already making crude gestures with his hand before Steve can grunt and turn back around to regret looking over in the first place. He can feel his cheeks growing pinker.

"Now, we're going to take a little poll," Tony announces with a thundering clap. He strides down to stand in front of the blackened theater screen like an Oscar award awaiting the buzz of the crowds. "Raise a hand if you think Frozen was the most classic movie," Tony refrains from laughing.

Thor's hand is the only to rise. "Oh come on!" he groans. His hand falls back to be crossed-armed at his meaty chest. "Foolish mortals," he grunts beneath his breath.

"How about Pulp Fiction?" Two hands rise in addition to Tony's. Skipping to the end of the poll, Clint's choice is the clear winner—even swaying Hazel and Nat to pick a film other than their own.

"Aha!" Clint cheers with petty pride as everyone gathers to leave the theater. "Told you all!"

"It was a total fluke," Tony grunts on his way out the door. "You all have wretched taste."

Wanda catches Hazel by the arm before she can leave. "I'm going to do some exercises down in training 23 if you want to come and join me for a bit of gravity pulling practice," she tells Hazel in her rich accent that nearly perfumes the air with intoxicating drawl.

Hazel glances over her shoulder to where Steve stands with Bucky and Sam.

Steve, who'd been glancing over to her at the exact same moment, notices her big sapphire eyes have landed upon him but chooses to shyly look away.

"What the hell are you doing, man?" Bucky groans.

"What are you talking about?" Steve questions stupidly.

"You know exactly what he's talking about," Sam says. He gestures with a tilt of his head to the brunette at the other end of the room. "He's talking about Ambrosia."

Steve feels himself blushing at the way Sam's chosen to give his voice a sultry drawl at Hazel's new name.

"I still don't know what you idiots are going on about," Steve mutters defensively.

"Well you better figure it out soon," Bucky goes, "Because she's on her way over here."

Sure enough, when Hazel turns to reply to Wanda's request, her reply is: "Sure, that'd be great. Can I meet you down there in a little bit?" Wanda replies kindly before heading downstairs to where they'd conjoin in the next few minutes, but for now, Hazel is left to gather herself and approach Captain America all alone.

Steve's alone too after Bucky and Sam leave. At their exit the theater becomes empty besides the two blue eyed fools standing opposite of each other now.

"You need something, Haze?" Steve asks innocently.

"No," Hazel says with a shake of her head. "No, I just wanted to thank you for—you know—making me feel a little less terrified while watching Nat's terrible movie."

Steve breathily chuckles, but not for long as he's trying to come up with a response. "Sure thing. It was no problem at all." He'd like to do it again, he thinks to himself. But he'd never dare say that aloud.

"So I guess I'll see you around then?" Hazel blinks a few times, swaying up onto the toes of her slipper covered feet before rocking onto her heels and back again.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve quickly reciprocates her smile. Tugging a hand through his hair, he begins leading them to the door that's just a few steps away. He holds it open for her, nodding when she thanks him, and then they find that they're out in the hall.

"Goodnight, Cap," Hazel bids the incredibly large but soft man goodbye.

Smiling in a sweet way that he thinks he'd long forgotten how to do, Steve says, "Goodnight, Ambrosia," and then walks off into the darkness of the rest of the lonely night.

MMJ