Steve drummed his fingers on his desk at home, eyes drifting from the research paper he should've been reading. He'd planned to write a piece and submit it for an academic paper, with high hopes of getting academia to start taking the humanities more seriously. But he couldn't concentrate.
His phone lay near his hand, screen black and silent. He hadn't heard back from Bucky in over a half hour. Steve drummed his fingers again, and weighed up leaving his office to go get a bite to eat... or stay put.
Sharon had taken over the main living space with her wedding planning folder –the lever-arch file of stress and boredom, Steve thought– and he couldn't access the kitchen without bypassing her, and risk being dragged into making decisions.
He felt dumb hiding from his own wedding plans, b
