Just a quick little scene I wrote in, like, an hour since today was the first day off I've had in three weeks.

"As I already said, Agent Romanoff will handle the press, but if anyone asks, you were never in Muscat. In fact, you've never been to Oman in your life. For the last two weeks, you've been an assistant instructor for a special training course in Quantico." Fury pinned Steve with his single eye. "Is that clear?"

"So you want me to lie?" Steve raised an eyebrow.

Fury sighed. "Would it make you feel better if I called it a fictitious alibi?"

"Not really," Steve told him.

"Then let's just hope no one asks you," Fury grumbled.

Steve pursed his lips but didn't argue further. Fury snagged a folder from the stack on top of his desk and began flipping through it.

"I did have a question for you, Cap," Fury muttered as he scanned the papers in front of him. "Now if I could just find that page…"

Noise in the hallway caught Steve's attention and he glanced behind him. Through the glass door of Fury's office, he could see Rumlow and several members of the STRIKE team stomping by, their large boots amplifying their heavy footfalls. However, instead of continuing down the corridor as Steve expected, the men stopped in front of Fury's secretary, gathering in a half circle around her desk. Brows furrowed, Steve watched a moment more before Fury pulled his focus back.

"Alright, here it is." Fury drew the desired paper out of the bundle and splayed it in front of him. "You said here that the prime minister claimed no knowledge of your arrival, yet our intel reported he was the one who placed the distress call. Now, can you explain that to me?" Fury stabbed a finger at the page for emphasis.

"It seems like that's more of a question for your 'intel' than me," Steve remarked impudently.

"Don't take that tone with me, Rogers," Fury warned. "Your mission was supposed to be covert. So tell me how it came to be that, not only did he know you were there, but you two had a nice long chat about it?"

"I gave a full report on page thirteen, detailing the mission from start to end," Steve informed him. "I'm assuming you haven't had time to read the entire thing," he added slyly.

Unable to argue with the fact that he hadn't done more than glance at the document, Fury glared at the captain before digging through the file for the rest of the information. While he busied himself with that, Steve turned to look out the door again. Rumlow was now behind the secretary's desk, arm thrown casually across the back of the chair as he leaned down into the woman's personal space. The young lady was obviously uncomfortable with the intrusion, pressed as far back into her seat as possible to gain herself as much distance as she could. A deep frown creased Steve's face and his shoulders instinctively tensed.

"Are you listening to me, Rogers?" Fury's voice cut into his thoughts and Steve whipped around to face forward again.

"I'm sorry," he automatically apologized. "What were you saying?"

"I asked you if you ever met up with your contact again. You said he gave you the pass codes on the second night but after that, you don't mention him anywhere else," Fury said, scanning the record.

"No, I didn't," Steve answered, twisting to peer out the door once more. "He said he couldn't get any more involved, that it would endanger his family…" He trailed off as he assessed the situation unfolding on the other side of the glass.

"And you believed him? Why didn't you try to track him down? Or at least have him followed once he left the hotel? There was more information he could have given you," Fury demanded.

"He wanted to keep his family safe," Steve replied, distracted.

"Look, Cap," Fury sighed, folding his hands on the desk. "Cap," he called when Steve didn't look at him. "Steven Rogers," he finally barked.

That earned him Steve's attention.

"I know that you want to believe that people are good, and that they are telling you the truth. That they want to look after each other, and all that kind of nice crap, but the thing is, people are not like that," Fury lectured.

Steve gave him a vague nod, eyes straying to the door. Apparently, one of the STRIKE members had asked the secretary for a certain folder. As she bent over the filing cabinet, Rumlow gave her a firm smack on the behind. She straightened immediately, face flushing scarlet, while the men around her laughed.

Noticing Steve's lack of focus, Fury growled, "Am I boring you?"

"Will you excuse me, Director?" Steve abruptly stood, scooping his shield off the floor and securing it to his back.

"I did not dismiss you, Captain," Fury tried.

Steve crossed the room in a few rapid steps.

"We're not finished here, Rogers," Fury called after him.

Without pausing or looking back, Steve flung the door open. By the time he got out into the hallway, Rumlow and his crew were just rounding the corner at the end of it. With a glare in their direction, Steve crossed over to the secretary. He didn't even know her name. When she had allowed him into Fury's office a short hour ago, it had been the first time Steve had ever seen her.

"Hey," he greeted softly, trying not to startle her. "Are you okay?"

Even though he was quiet, she still jumped in her seat. The red hadn't faded from her cheeks yet, embarrassment lingering. She glanced up at him before her gaze skittered away and she started compulsively tidying the desktop in an effort to look busy and unaffected by what had happened.

"You alright?" Steve repeated.

Her flurry of movement didn't cease. Taking it in stride, Steve knelt beside the desk, bringing himself to her eye level.

"I know I have terrible manners," Steve began conversationally, as if they had been talking for hours. "I should have introduced myself earlier. Steve Rogers." He offered her his hand, stretching it out above the folders, paperclips, staplers and ballpoint pens scattered across the desk surface.

The secretary's hands finally stilled and she shyly peered at him from beneath her lashes. "I know," she said in a small voice.

"Then I'm at a disadvantage," Steve teased lightly, wiggling his hand invitingly.

His antics tugged a small smile from the girl and she finally placed her smaller hand inside of his. "Leah Barnett."

"It's nice to meet you, Leah," Steve grinned. "Officially."

Her smile widened in return and she brushed away a piece of hair that had fallen from her blonde ponytail.

Growing serious, Steve questioned, "Are you okay, Leah? Were those guys bothering you?"

Leah's face immediately fell and she refused to make eye contact with him.

"Leah," Steve called gently. "Leah, look at me."

Her eyes remained firmly fixed on the stapler in front of her.

"Look at me," Steve repeated quietly.

Eventually, Leah's blue eyes met his.

"What Rumlow did is not okay. No one should treat you like that, you understand?" Steve clarified.

Leah nodded, tears forming, but not falling.

"And if he or any of the others bother you again, or even if you start to feel uncomfortable, call for some help. Fury is just in there," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the closed office door. "Or if it happens anywhere else in this building, there are a lot of good agents who will gladly step in. And, in fact," Steve snatched a pen and a stray sticky note from the desktop, scribbling quickly on it. "Here's my number. Feel free to call me if you need it."

Overwhelmed by the compassion of the stranger in front of her, Leah could do little more than nod, which dislodged a single tear, and accept the number.

"You going to be okay?" Steve queried, tilting his head to indicate the teardrop.

"I'm okay," Leah assured him, wiping it away with her palm. "Thank you," she gestured with the note to encompass their entire conversation.

"You're welcome," Steve told her warmly.

He rose to his feet and headed down the hallway. It wasn't hard to find out where the STRIKE team had gone. After questioning a passing agent, Steve was on his way to the gym on the fifth floor. As he neared the door, bits of conversation drifted out into the corridor. Rumlow and his companions were making lewd comments about Fury's secretary and Steve's hands curled into fists.

"Rumlow," he snapped, storming into the room. "What the hell happened back there?"

Rumlow pivoted on his heel, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "What are you doing here, Rogers? Back from Muscat so soon?"

Steve ignored the questions. "What makes you think that type of behavior is acceptable?"

Rolling his eyes, Rumlow turned back to his workout, selecting a dumbbell from the rack. "Relax. It's just a little bit of harmless fun."

"You need to treat the women here with respect," Steve insisted, coming around in front of the other man and yanking the weight from his hand.

"Well, well, well. Captain Prude's decided to start defending the maidens," Rumlow sneered.

"Keep your hands to yourself," Steve ordered, eyes hard and voice threatening.

He tossed the dumbbell back to Rumlow, who fumbled to catch it. Steve straightened to his full height and, with a final menacing glare at the group, walked out of the room.