Say my Name-rewrite

"That's the thing we have in common, you and me."

Maya's POV:

As I made my way through the crowd, I offered quick goodnights to the people who caught my eye, forcing a tired smile to keep up appearances.

"Calling it a night already?" Tony called from across the room, his smirk lazy as he lifted his drink.

"Some of us need sleep," I shot back, earning a few chuckles from the nearby Avengers.

Natasha, perched on the arm of a couch, gave me a small nod. "Get some rest. You'll need it."

I wasn't sure if that was a warning or just general advice, but I didn't have the energy to ask. Instead, I squeezed her arm as I passed, murmuring a quiet, "Goodnight."

As I turned toward the exit, Steve stepped into my path, his expression as steady as ever but softer around the edges. "I'll walk you up," he offered.

It was a sweet gesture—one I appreciated more than I let on—but I shook my head with a small smile. "I think I can manage. Thanks, though."

He hesitated, studying me as if to make sure I was really okay, before nodding. "Alright. Sleep well."

"You too," I said before slipping past him.

The moment I stepped into the hallway, the noise dulled behind me, replaced by the quiet hum of the compound at night. I exhaled slowly, climbing the stairs at a steady pace, my fingers brushing against the cool railing.

My first night here. My first night as part of this.

The heels Natasha had lent me clicked against the smooth floors as I made my way toward my suite, the distant hum of the party fading behind me. The air out here was cooler, quieter, but it did nothing to settle the warmth curling through me.

"Choose better quality. You can still be transactional, and have someone derive their pleasure... from yours."

Bucky's words from earlier slithered through my mind, his voice thick with something dark, something heavy. The kind of tone that slithered down your spine and took root in places best left alone.

I swallowed hard, my fingers brushing absently over my arm as if I could shake the sensation away. But I couldn't. Not when I could still picture the way he looked at me when he said it—those steel-blue eyes locked onto mine, unreadable but intentional. The way the words had settled between us, unspoken but felt.

And then there was my reaction. The way my gaze had flicked to his lips, lingering a second too long. The thought of biting that bottom lip, dragging it between my teeth just to see how he'd react.

A sharp pulse of heat shot through me, an ache settling deep in my core.

Jesus, stop it, Maya. Get it together.

My fingers fumbled with the handle as I reached my door, my body heavy with exhaustion and the slow, lazy warmth of alcohol humming in my veins. My balance wavered, my foot rolling over my own ankle as I shifted my weight.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, stopping mid-motion to steady myself.

The heels had officially betrayed me. Natasha had warned me they were high, but I'd managed all night—until now. Annoyed, I bent down, fingers working quickly to undo the straps digging into my skin.

"They're too tall for you."

I froze.

That voice.

Deep, low, smooth as sin.

His voice.

A shiver crawled up my spine, my pulse kicking up before I even turned around. I didn't have to—I knew who it was. The heat of his presence, the weight of his stare, the way the air suddenly felt thicker between us.