Colors
Paring: steve "captain america" x f!reader.
Word count: 4336
Warnings: friends to lovers, angst, fluff, dirty jokes, implied insecurity of reader, jealousy
Summary: For years, you’ve managed to deny the throbbing ache in your chest whenever your friends teased you about Steve. You insisted and convinced yourself that he belongs in the sky saving the world, while you belong behind the counter of your famous city bar. But when a sudden late-night visit from an upset Steve forces you to lie your way out of a bad date, the guilt becomes a suffocating weight. Desperate to fix the broken look on his face, you drive up. The gray walls you’ve built around are slowly cracking and neither of you can pretend the world is just black and white anymore whether you both like it or not. Both of you have no choice but to open up your hearts and just let it begin to be truly free from what's holding you back.
Masterlist | one – two
"Sorry— hello?" You softly greet, excusing yourself from a phone call. "We're closed, I'm sorry—" You were cut off as you saw this familiar, tall, broad, handsome blonde man, walking towards you with a smile, "Hey," he greets, God, you hate it when he drawls towards you like that. And you hate it how you have this throbbing feeling for him. For years. And for years, you were denial whenever your friends tease you about him or ask about him. "Steve." Your hand slowly drops beside you, it was a long time since you've seen him and you never expected him to come to where you work which takes an hour from where he stays at.
He says your name, "I– What are you doing here? People walking by will see you!" You hissed, you leave the counter, walking towards him then pulling him to the staff's room. "Woah there– just a visit." He chuckles as you pull him towards the staff room. "A visit?" You finally asked, turning around to face him. Not realising the distance between you both, making Steve flush a little. He coughs, "Well– look, It has been a long time since I've last seen you."
You stifled a laugh, "Steve– you– you don't know what you're saying right now." He frowns, saying your name, "I care for you, and I–" He holds back.
Care? For me? As a friend, right?
You shovelled the thought away, trying to make up an excuse why he should go now. "Steve, you should go. I have to go somewhere urgent." You lied, it'll work. You thought, "Urgent? I can drop you–" Before he could finish his sentence, your phone vibrated on the counter where you dropped it. "I gotta take this call. It's– you know." You paused, then ran up to the phone vibrating.
He follows from behind, "Yes– I'm sorry. I'll be there soon," you spoke to the person on the phone, Steve curiously looked at you, he couldn't tell if it was a family, a friend or a boyfriend. A boyfriend. He definitely hated the thought of you having a boyfriend. Then you hung up, waving your hand in front of Steve's face, "Steve?" He goes back to realization, now looking at you, "Sorry." He muttered. You sigh, "Well? Who was it?" he asks before you could open your mouth to talk, "A friend." You cleared, it was a date. "I see." He quote, there was a short moment of silence, until you spoke again, "Okay. I gotta go, Steve. Thank you for um– coming to see me but it's a really bad timing right now, I have to–"
"–go. I got it." His voice dropped, losing that easy, warm tone from before.
Then Steve stepped back, giving you space, but his eyes never left your face as he looked stiff. Making his broad shoulders square down, slipping his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. For a man who had faced down armies, he looked entirely defeated by a single phone call.
"Right," you murmured, avoiding his intense gaze by reaching for your keys and purse on the counter. Your heart was hammering against your ribs. The guilt of brushing Steve off tasted like ash in your mouth, he was your friend. So why couldn't you tell him the truth?
"I'll see you around, Steve. Call me next time you're thinking of coming up?"
"Yeah. Next time," he muttered.
You unlocked the heavy front door of the bar, letting the cool night air rush in. Steve stepped out onto the dimly lit sidewalk first. He turned back to look at you, the neon sign of your bar casting a vibrant, bleeding glow across his face. Red, blue, gold. He looked like a masterpiece and you felt entirely unworthy of being the one holding the damnbrush.
"Be safe," he said softly, a heavy, unreadable emotion swirling in his blue eyes.
"Always am," you lied with a tight smile.
You locked the door behind him as you watched his tall silhouette disappear down the street. You took a deep breath, trying to shake the throbbing ache in your chest, and went to go get ready for a date you already knew you were going to hate.
Minute after, the date was a disaster. Really.Not because the guy was awful, but because he wasn't him. He didn't have Steve’s quiet confidence, he didn't laugh with that deep, rumbling chest sound, and he didn't look at you like you were the only person in a crowded room.
His name was Thomas, or maybe Marcus but honestly, by the time the appetizers arrived, your brain had alreadychecked out. He was a nice enough guy, a corporate lawyer who talked extensively about his latest promotion and his weekend golf trips. He was perfectly ordinary.
Gray. Next to the vibrant, overwhelming memory of Steve standing in your breakroom, this man felt like a faded photocopy. Or an expired one.
"So," Thomas said, leaning across the candlelit table with a practiced smile. "Your bar is doing incredible. Must be exciting, meeting all kinds of people in the city, you know."
"Yeah," you murmured, swirling the wine in your glass, "It's a lot of work."
"I bet. Though, I have to ask... a gorgeous woman like you running a place like that? You must have guys throwing themselves at you constant—"
You stopped listening. Your mind drifted back to the sidewalk outside your bar. To the way Steve’s broad shoulders had squared down, his hands shoved deep into his leather jacket pockets. He had looked so small in that moment, despite his size.
Defeated. Because he probably thought you were rushing off to a man you just met few weeks ago, dismissing the man you know longer than the guy who doesn't deserve your time more than he did.
"Hey, are you alright?" Thomas asked, blinking at you. "You're a million miles away."
"I'm sorry," you said, setting your glass down with a sharp clink. The guilt was a physical weight in your chest now, suffocating and sharp. "I just... I have a really early morning with inventory. I think I should head home."
You slipped inside your small, yet quite spacious apartment of yours, tossing your jacket onto a table. You didn't bother turning on the main lights, letting the streetlights through the windows guide your way to the liquor shelves.
You grabbed one of the liquor bottles from the shelf, you didn't wanna sorrow deep into liquor but you can't lie but you do miss Steve. Maybe as a friend. Maybe more. But who knows?
Then you grabbed the glass and poured one in as the liquor splashed into the heavy crystal glass, the sharp, medicinal scent of the bourbon hitting your nose before you even lifted it to your lips. You took a long, burning swallow as it tore down your throat. A persistent ache throbbing right behind your ribs.
You leaned your hips back against the kitchen counter, staring out into the living room. Without the lights on, the apartment was a canvas of shadows, painted only by the cold, pale blue of the city streetlights filtering through the sheer curtains.
You closed your eyes, but that only made it worse. Blue. His pretty, blue eyes. And behind your eyelids, you could still see him standing on the sidewalk. You could see the bleeding neon sign from your bar reflecting off the sharp angle of his jaw, the deep, sorrowful ocean of his eyes when he looked at you. You take another slow sip of the bourbon, letting the liquid fire settle in your stomach, but it does nothing to warm the chill under your skin.
You hate how easily he unbalances you. You’ve spent years building up walls, convincing yourself that Captain America, belongs on a pedestal in a museum or in the sky saving the world. Anywhere but in your cramped world, looking at you like you hold the answers to the universe.
With a heavy sigh, you set the crystal glass down on the counter. The sharp clink echoes loudly in the quiet apartment. You pad over to the window, resting your forehead against the cool glass, looking down at the street below. Headlights blur into long streaks of white and red.
“I care for you.”
His voice echoes in your ears, deep and steady. He hadn't said as a friend, and you don't even know it. You just know that you were the one who had tacked that label onto his words, how you convinced yourself that Steve only wasted his time driving an hourjust for a casual catch up. How he didn't look upset over a "friend" having a phone call.
You were just too terrified to see what was right in front of you. And you're a coward.
And that was problem. The problem you wanted to solve. So you decided to pay them a visit despite how many hours the drive will be by tomorrow morning.
"Look who it is!" The voice had belonged to Sam Wilson, his voiced echoed through the room, making everyone turn their heads on you. Pepper shouted your name in excitement, "no way," she runs to you, leaving Tony stunned.
Pepper’s heels click rapidly against the polished floor before she throws her arms around you, pulling you into a warm, expensive-smelling hug. "No way! What are you doing all the way out here? We've missed you so much!"
"Hey, Pep," you managed a laugh as the tension in your shoulders melting just a fraction under her genuine enthusiasm.
Over Pepper’s shoulder, you see Tony starkly freeze mid-sip of his green smoothie, blinking at you in faux-betrayal. "Wait a minute. You close down the hottest bar in the city on a Friday morning just to come visit us? Without an appointment? Who are you and what have you done with my favorite mixologist?"
"I didn't close it, Tony, I have managers," you roll your eyes playfully, stepping back from Pepper. "And I was just... in the neighborhood."
Sam Wilson lets out a loud, booming laugh from the kitchen island, leaning his elbows on the marble counter. "In the neighborhood? Girl, you live an hour and a half away in heavy traffic. Try again. And judging by the look on your face, you didn't drive all this way to bring Tony his favorite bourbon."
You feel a hot flush creep up your neck, and you desperately hope none of them notice. Leave it to Sam to see right through you in less than five seconds.
"She's allowed to just visit, Sam," Pepper chides gently, though her eyes are sparkling with knowing amusement as she looks at you. She leans in a little closer, lowering her voice. "He's out on the grounds. Left about an hour ago for a run, but he should be back any minute."
Your heart does a violent thud against your ribs. He's here. You hadn't even mentioned Steve's name, but Pepper already knew exactly why you were standing in their living room with dark circles under your eyes and a nervous grip on your car keys.
"Is it that obvious?" you mumble, deflating a little.
"To anyone with eyes," Tony chimes in, walking over to toss his empty glass into the sink. He points a finger at you. "Cap came back late last night looking like someone ran over his childhood golden retriever, didn't say a word, went straight to the gymand literally destroyed three damn punching bags before midnight. I was gonna bill him for the equipment, but now that you're here, I'm guessing you're the one who broke Cap."
"Tony," Pepper warns, swatting his arm.
"What? I'm just stating facts," Tony shrugs, though his expression softens into something surprisingly gentle when he looks back at you. "Go easy on him. The guy doesn't exactly have a high emotional IQ when it comes to... well, you."
"He's right for once," Sam adds, tossing an apple from hand to hand. "Steve’s a lot of things, but subtle ain't one of 'em. Go get your man."
Your man. The words ring in your ears, sweet and terrifying.
"Thanks guys, but we're not—" you say softly, the words catching in your throat. You look down at your keys, tracing the metal edge with your thumb. "We're just friends."
Sam lets out a soft, sympathetic grunt, setting the apple down on the counter. "'Just friends' don't drive an hour and a half minute at the crack of dawn looking like they haven't slept in a week just toapologize to each other or.. something. Go find him before he starts on a fourth punching bag."
Pepper gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. "H.e usually loops back around the eastern trail near the lake. Go on. We'll make sure Tony doesn't follow you with a drone."
"Hey, I resent that," Tony calls out, though he’s already turning back to his tablet, a small, satisfied smirk on his face. "I only use drones for high-profile couples. You two are strictly indie-film territory." You laughed at Tony's remark.
Offering a small, grateful smile to Pepper and Sam, you turn on your heel and head toward the glass doors leading out to the compound's massive, sprawling grounds.
The morning air is crisp, carrying the sharp scent of pine and dew-covered grass. You walk briskly down the paved path, your boots clicking softly against the concrete until the path dissolves into a dirt trail lined with heavy oak trees. Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re convinced the entire state of New York can hear it.
What am I even going to say?
Then you heard a branch breaking, must be Steve. You thought to yourself, then a squirrel jumped onto you, making you fall back to the water. You yelped, "Fuck," You muttered. You then looked down on your shirt, it was see through. Only if it's wet. Right.
You sat there in the shallow edge of the lake, water soaking completely through your clothes, freezing the skin of your stomach and making your shirt cling to you like a second skin. It was entirely see-through now. Out of all the ways you had imagined this confrontation going on your drive up here, getting taken out by a rogue squirrel and looking like a wet t-shirt contest contestant was definitely not on the list.
"This is fucking—" You started to swear, tossing a handful of wet grass back into the lake in pure frustration.
"Hey— oh."
That voice. That deep, instantly recognizable Brooklyn drawl vibrated through the crisp morning air, cutting your rant short.
You snapped your head up. Steve was standing at the edge of the tree line, his chest heaving under a tight, sweat-dampened gray shirt from his run. He looked incredible. HAd a vibrant and full of life against the green of the woods.
But the second his blue eyes locked onto you, he froze entirely. His gaze flicked from your face down to your soaked, transparent shirt, and a massive, roaring crimson flush immediately crept up his neck, coloring his jawline and ears.
Steve tore his eyes away so fast you thought he might give himself whiplash, staring aggressively at a completely random pine tree to his left.
"I— I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— I heard a yell," he stammered, his Captain America persona completely evaporating into the awkward, flustered boy from Brooklyn.
Then He scrambled with the hem of his oversized navy blue sweatshirt, pulling it over his head in one swift, athletic motion and holding it out toward you blindly, still refusing to look in your direction. "Here. Take this."
"Steve, you can look at me, I'm not naked," you muttered, though your own face was burning a furious shade of red as you waded out of the water. You took the sweatshirt from his hand. It was massive, smelling heavily of cedar, laundry detergent, and the clean scent of his skin. You quickly threw it over your head, the thick fabric swallowing you whole and falling halfway down your thighs.
Only when you were completely covered did Steve finally let his breath out in a long, shaky sigh, his broad shoulders dropping as he looked back down at you. His eyes scanned your wet hair and shivering frame, the initial shock fading into that familiar, deep-seated concern.
"What are you even doing out here?" he asked softly, stepping closer to close the distance between you, completely forgetting about his run. "Sam and Pepper didn't tell me you were coming. Did... did something happen in the city?"
The underlying anxiety in his voice caught in your throat. He was still thinking about last night. He was thinking about the phone call, the "urgent" exit, and the fact that he thought he had been replaced.
"No, nothing happened," you said quietly, crossing your arms over your chest inside his giant sweatshirt, hugging the warmth of it close to your body. You looked up at him through your damp eyelashes, your heart doing that familiar, terrifying throb. "I just... I wanted to see you. I didn't like how we left things last night."
Steve blinked, his brow furrowing as he processed your words.
"You had plans," he said, his voice dropping an octave, losing a bit of its warmth as he tried to remain casual. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his running shorts. "You don't have to apologize for having a life, or... seeing people. I shouldn't have just dropped in on you like that without calling first. It was bad timing."
The sheer stupidity of the lie you’d told last night tasted like ash on your tongue all over again. Looking at him now, standing in the middle of the woods just trying to protect his own heart from getting broken by his "friend," you couldn't keep up the charade.
"It wasn't bad timing because of work, Steve," you confessed, the words rushing out before you could stop them. "The phone call, it was just a date. A setup from one of my people."
Steve went entirely still. The slight breeze off the lake rustled the leaves around you, but he looked like he had been carved out of marble. His jaw tightened, a hard, sharp clench that made the muscle tick. He didn't look angry as he looked completely hollowed out by the confirmation of his worst fear from the night before.
"A date," he repeated, the word sounding heavy and foreign in his mouth. He looked away from you, staring out at the rippling water of the lake, his chest rising and falling in a slow, controlled breath. "Right. Well– I hope it went well."
"It was awful," you said bluntly.
That made his head snap back to you, his blue eyes wide with genuine surprise.
"He was nice, I guess. A lawyer," you continued, taking a tentative step closer to him on the dirt path, the damp fabric of your jeans dragging against your boots. "But he wasn't... Well– I spent the entire night thinking about how much I wanted to leave. I spent the whole time thinking about you standing on the sidewalk outside my bar upsettingly."
Steve’s breath hitched. He stepped toward you, closing the remaining distance until he was towering over you, blocking out the morning sun. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, a swirling storm of confusion, hope, and a deep, aching restraint.
"You thought about me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, rough and thick with an emotion he was desperately trying to keep under wraps.
"Of course I did," you murmured, looking up at him, your hands itching to reach out and touch the soft fabric of the shirt he was still wearing, just to ground yourself. "You looked so upset when you had to leave. And.. Tony said you broke three punching bags last night."
A small, sheepish streak of pink returned to Steve's cheeks, and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his boots.
"Hey.." You softly spoke, continuing–
"Steve, I drove an hour and a half at the crack of dawn because I couldn't handle the thought of you being upset with me," you said, your voice cracking slightly with the weight of the insecurity you always carried around him. "I value you too much. You're... you're my best friend."
Steve looked at you for a long, agonizing moment as his eyes dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back up to your eyes, a heavy, unreadable tension hanging in the air between you. He reached out, his massive, warm hand hovering over your shoulder for a beat before he gently tucked a wet strand of hair behind your ear. His knuckles brushed against your heated skin, sending a violent jolt of electricity straight down your spine.
"I'm not upset with you," Steve said softly, his thumb lingering just for a second against your jawline before he dropped his hand back to his side, exerting an immense amount of self-control. "Never with you. I just... I worry about you. And I missed you."
"Come on," Steve said, a soft, genuine smile finally breaking through his features as he gestured back toward the path leading to the compound. "Let's get you inside before you catch a cold. Tony's probably already tracking us." You nod, both of you now heading back.
The walk back to the compound is quiet, but it’s a completely different kind of silence than the heavy, suffocating one from the night before. This one is thick with a brand-new, electric tension that keeps your pulse racing, even as the cool morning air bites at your wet jeans.
Steve walks right beside you, adapting his long, soldier’s stride to match your pace. He kept his eyes on the path ahead but there’s also a softness to his jaw as the tight, defeated lines from last night hadfinally smoothed out.
"So," Steve clears his throat, breaking the silence with that low, rumbling voice. "A corporate lawyer, huh?"
You let out a wet, breathless laugh, pulling the oversized sleeves of his sweatshirt down over your hands. "Don't remind me. He spent twenty minutes explaining the nuances of corporate tax law and his handicap in golf. I think my brain actually short-circuited somewhere around the appetizers."
Steve’s chest rumbles with a soft laugh, a genuine, easy sound that makes your chest ache in the best way possible. "Doesn't sound like your type."
"I don't think I have a type," you murmur, glancing up at him through your damp hair. "But 'boring and gray' definitely isn't it."
Steve’s smile falters for a fraction of a second, his blue eyes flicking down to meet yours. There’s a sudden, intense gravity in his gaze, a silent question hanging between you that neither of you is brave enough to voice yet. He looks like he wants to say something, something bigbut he catches himself swallowing hard and looking back toward the glass doors of the compound fading into view up ahead.
"Well," Steve says softly, his tone shifting into something a little more playful to break the tension. "Next time you need an excuse to get out of a bad date, you don't have to invent an emergency inventory crisis. You can just tell them your friend from upstate is demanding a cocktail."
"My friend from upstate, right," you repeat, a small, slightly sad smile touching your lips as you use his own safety net. "I'll remember that."
As you reach the heavy glass doors, the warmth of the compound’s heating system hits you instantly. The quiet sanctuary of the woods evaporates as the sounds of the kitchen island come back into focus—Tony’s espresso machine whirring loudly, and Sam’s voice carrying over a morning news broadcast.
Before you can push the door open, Steve reaches out, his hand resting gently against the glass just above your head, effectively boxing you in for a brief, stolen moment. You freeze, looking up at him. The sheer size of him is overwhelming up close, his shadow completely covering you.
"I'm glad you came up here," he says quietly, his voice dropping so low it’s meant for only you to hear. The intense, unreadable emotion from the lake is back in his eyes, burning bright and focused entirely on your face. "Thank you for telling me the truth."
Your breath hitches in your throat, your fingers curling tightly into the hem of his sweatshirt. "Of course, Steve. I... I couldn't leave things wrong between us."
He holds your gaze for one beat, two, his eyes dropping to your lips for a fleeting, agonizing second before he pulls his hand back and opens the door for you, stepping back into his role as the polite, protective gentleman.
"Hey, look who survived the wilderness!" Sam’s voice booms the second you step inside, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the giant navy blue fabric drowning your body and your damp, messy hair. He looks between you and Steve, a massive, knowing smirk spreading across his face. "Cap actually shared his clothes. It’s a Friday miracle."
Tony looks up from his tablet, raising an eyebrow as he takes a slow sip of his coffee. "Well, look at that. You went out looking like a drowned rat and came back wearing a security blanket. I’m assuming the punching bags in the gym are safe for the rest of the weekend?"
"Shut up, Tony," Steve mutters, though the bright crimson flush immediately rushing up his neck and staining his ears tells a completely different story.
"Well, what happened? Why is.." Tony paused, "Why is she wet?" Sam spits out his water from the way Tony said it, "Tony!" Pepper scolded, Tony knew what he just said judging from his tone. Tony sniffled a laugh, "Right. You fell onto the lake, right?"
Right..
End note: Finally! First part is done, watch out for the second part! And to people who sent me a request for fics, I will focus on this for now, thank you!