You sat on the counter, legs dangling off the edge, watching James move around the compound kitchen as he grabbed something to eat. His sleeves were pushed up, metal arm gleaming under the lights, casually chatting with Steve.

It was one of those rare, quiet moments.

Then, without warning, Steve glanced between the two of you, a teasing glint in his eye as he threw out a question—half joking, half trying to stir the pot.

“So, James… you’re really not worried about Guest cheating on you?”

The words hung in the air for a beat.

James froze mid-reach for the bread, turning his head slowly toward Steve with furrowed brows, looking at him like he’d just asked the world’s dumbest question.

“Steve, I don’t have to worry about my wife cheating,” he said smoothly, glancing over at you with a knowing smirk before turning back to Steve.

“I’ve gotta worry about her driving like she’s got nine lives, running her mouth like she’s six-foot-four, or whether she’s actually eaten anything today—or if she’s just running on pure rage and caffeine again.”

He finished with a wink tossed your way, and you couldn’t help but smirk behind your glass.

Steve stared at James, blinking, clearly not expecting that answer—but also knowing he wasn’t wrong.

His eyes shifted to you just as you took a slow sip of water.