Dancing in the rain - Steve x Reader
SUMMARY: After a boring meeting, you find yourself dancing in the rain with the beautiful man you call your husband.
WARNINGS: swearing, major fluff!!
A/N: I really liked the idea of Steve in the rain, for some reason this all just seemed to make sense! Feedback is appreciated!!
MASTERLIST | TAGS | REQUESTS
The pitter patter of the rain against the glass window made you dread having to go to Stark’s meeting today. It’s been pouring all morning and it’s only getting heavier. As you sit by the fogged up window, you pull the sleeves of your jumper over your hands, trying to keep them warm. Tracing small doodles in the steam, you hear Steve walk behind you.
“Come on [Y/N], if we don't leave now, we’ll be late,” Steve informs you.
“But Stevie,” you whine, “it’s raining cats and dogs out there!” You point to the window, gesturing to the drizzly city.
“Oh, come on. You’ve been in worse!” He laughs, grabbing his umbrella from the hook.
“That doesn't mean I cant complain now!” You moan, trudging behind him.
He takes your hand, pulling you out of your warm, cozy apartment and into the cold rain.
“Language, sweetie,” he jokes.
“Ha, ha. Very funny. I forgot my umbrella!” You recall, slapping your face with your hand.
“You can share mine,” Steve smiles, popping out the large, black umbrella and inviting you underneath. “Better?”
The two of you weave through the busy streets of New York, walking a couple of blocks to the Avengers tower, where the dreaded meeting would take place.
“Hello, Miss [Y/L/N] and Mr Rogers,” FRIDAY says, “Mr Stark is upstairs and waiting for you to arrive.”
The elevator doors open, inviting you into the depths of the tower.
“Finally, I thought you wouldn't come,” Tony quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Well, there was a little hold up.” Steve points to the weather outside, just as thunder cracks.
“Yeah? Was it [Y/N] watching the rain again? He laughs.
“No!” You lie, your cheeks heating up.
Tony laughs before walking into the conference room and starting the meeting.
“See that wasn't too bad,” Steve offers, completely knowing that was a massive lie. He takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours.
“Steve, that was the most bored I’ve been in my entire life!” You groan, walking into the elevator.
You read the ground floor again, walking out of the lift and the building. The rain has stopped.
“Come on, I’ll walk you home,” Steve smiles, pulling your hand as he leads you back to your apartment.
“We have the same home! We’re married!” You laugh, humouring his attempts at comedy.
“Well, at least I try to be a gentleman!” He retorts, throwing his arm over your shoulder.
You feel a droplet of water fall on the top of your head. Slowly, you touch your head, feeling the wetness.
“Oh, Stevie, it’s started to rain again,” you complain as the sky starts to let more rain fall.
“Oh shit, I forgot the umbrella!” He curses, giving a deep sigh.
“Language!” You say, mocking his words from earlier.
“You know what [Y/N],” he warns, ruffling up your hair.
The rain started to come down even harder, drenching you and the hundred year old.
“Come on, I know just the place to wait out the weather.” He takes your hand, and runs under an awning of a vintage store, the 40s music blasting through the speakers inspired Steve to do something romantic.
“Care for a dance?” He whispers in your ear.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He takes your hands, lifting them up and wrapping them around his neck. His own hands snake their way to your waist.
You sway to the soft, slow rhythm, as his face lit up with joy.
“I’m so glad I learnt to dance,” he smiles, slowly dipping you close to the floor. He pulls you up as the beat picks up too.
He twirls you, spinning you in the rain. You pull him into the downpour, laughing. His eyes are shining brightly, seeing you twirling around in the storm.
“I’m in love with you doll,” he admits, pulling you close, kissing your bottom lip.
“Steve, do you know I’m utterly head-over-heels for you?” You murmur against his own lips before meeting his kiss, leaning into his warmth. His hands come to your face, cupping your cheeks. The heat from his love blinds the bitter cold of the rain, making you melt under his gentle touch.
You both pull away, feeling the rain has stopped.
“Looks like we danced the shower away,” he laughs, taking your hand.
“I could do with a different type of shower now,” you joke.
“A warm, steaming one with my handsome man,” you mutter against his ear.
“Well, we better get home.” He takes your hand, leading you through puddled streets, back to the warmth of the Brooklyn apartment.
@theglowstickofdestiny @winters-beauty @quaxon-holland
