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State Your Name (for the Record) - S.R.

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert, emotional H/C

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Word count: 5560

Summary: For a man haunted by nightmares, waking up was an ambivalent process.

For a man in love, the pros outweighed the cons. And make no mistake, Steve Rogers was a man in love.

In which Steve feels blue, but he can count on his girl to raise his spirits – especially since she can convince his whole team to do something nice for him.

Warnings: implied mission going not so well, angst, crying, self-doubts, swearing ,fluff and cheesiness of the highest order

Waking up was an everyday process most people considered unpleasant.

For a man haunted by nightmares, either made up by his traumatised mind or simply by pressing re-play on one from the stack of torturous memories, the action was both relieving and exhausting.

Waking up meant the nightmares were over; waking up meant he had to pick himself up and, despite all odds, face another day, even when his body ached and his soul seemed too tired, yet determined to continue to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

For a man in love, the pros outweighed the cons. And make no mistake, Steve Rogers was a man in love.

A woman he proudly called his girlfriend was nothing less than everything he could wish for; she carried beauty in features she considered imperfect, she never failed to make him smile for at least a fraction, her laughter filled his chest with delight as it lit up the room and she was gentle and dorky to a fault. And for he was willing to give her the world, she reciprocated his feelings to full extend.

Waking up next to the woman he loved was what always won over the desire to bury his face under the covers and tell the world to let him fucking rest.

He even cherished waking up with you. Hell, if he could squeeze in a morning run between the time he got up and you did, the better. He loved pulling you from your dreamland, even when you had clearly been dreaming a sweet dream, your lips gently curled up in a smile; because every time he tenderly welcomed you in a new day, your smile would turn brighter.

Which was exactly the reason why, when he opened his eyes today and found your side of the bed – how bold of him to call it that, when you usually slept in his embrace anyway, keeping his heart warm while he did the same for your body – empty, he knew that day would downright suck.

Steve muttered a curse under his breath, running his hand down his face as he forced himself to sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the bed.

You weren’t exactly a proclaimed early riser, so not only that your absence was unnerving and painful, because today more than at any other day Steve would beg for you to be there when he entered the reality, but it was also slightly disconcerting.

He tried not to read more into it and as he glanced at the clock, he knew shouldn’t – after all, he had been informed you would be gone at that time.

Still though, dark thoughts were sometimes hard to chase away. Thoughts regarding you avoiding him. He hated when he was pulling your bright spirit down, dragging you into the shadows of his world, bloody and violent, fearsome and traumatising, offering nothing but bruises, cuts, stab-wounds and shot-wounds, broken bones and broken minds.

Whenever he came back to you from a mission – a bad one, in particular – and you offered him comfort, kindness and understanding that rationally didn’t have any base since you weren’t a soldier of any kind, he questioned whether this was the last time. Whether this was the last drop into the metaphorical goblet of your patience with which it would overflow and you would finally break things off with him after a year being together, living with him for half of that time.

Steve closed his eyes, recalling your words from yesterday, ones that, at the time, fell to deaf ears.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you soothed him when he told you what had happened, how he had messed up and nearly got Natasha killed, which had resulted in Clint yelling at him for being incompetent for leading the team. “From what I hear, anyone would have made the same decision on their best conscience if they received the same intel – hell, this was the best option, they could have decided worse. You’re a great leader. And an amazing friend. The fact you’re beating yourself over something that was beyond anyone’s control only proves it. Let the guilt go.”

He had basked in your embrace and soothing voice, but the message you had been trying to send was not quite getting through, leaving him restless and feeling uneasy, drowning in self-doubt and pain.

Of course, being a bioengineer, having been the one to help developing actual painkillers and anaesthetics for him, you had also basically shoved the former down his throat because of his healing broken ribs, which caused him to sleep through your alarm and wake up at shamefully late hour.

Which meant he missed you and you had already must be on your way to France for symposium of biogenetics.

As if it wasn’t enough that he was questioning his yesterday’s decisions, his position in the team as a leader and a person to be begin with, and his life choices overall you weren’t here.

Maybe Clint was right; he might have been a captain, but in a name only. He fucked up royally and it could have cost his dear friend her life. He wasn’t what he had used to be. This century offered people much stronger, smarter and more capable than him, easily being able to replace him in the position.

His gut twisted at that idea, but perhaps this could be the time he should make space for someone else and just follow orders. Hell, he never wanted to lead in the first place! Not when he had first joined the army nearly a hundred years ago.

His sigh was the only sound in the screaming silence of the bedroom and Steve pushed himself to his feet, not surprised at all that his ribs only echoed the previous pain, and shuffled to the bathroom to have a shower.

Too sleepy and cranky to notice it earlier, he only found a sticky note – possibly having been on the mirror but peeling off because of the steam from the shower – in the bathroom sink.

Unwittingly, his lips curled up in a small smile when he recognized your messy handwriting.

Morning, Stevie. Find a little thing in our kitchen :)

Not bothering to wear more than his boxers, he obediently walked to your private kitchen. You both enjoyed breakfast with the team in the communal kitchen, but there were times you wanted some privacy, revelling in the moments you could have only for yourselves.

Kitchen? Had you managed to make him breakfast? Steve wasn’t hungry, his insides too tight for that, his mind too heavy, but he appreciated the gesture anyw-

He frowned when he found his laptop on the counter instead, a flash drive lying on top of it with another note. He wondered how could he not wake up with you moving around the apartment.

Please, play ‘PLAY ME’ video. I think it’ll be worth it. xxx

Steve found himself tilting his head to side, curious and confused. He couldn’t imagine you leaving something of a-- dirty nature for him, knowing the mood he had been in last night and yesterday in general. Sex was usually not the best way of cheering him up in such situation. As embarrassing as it might seem, he was more of a cuddler at times like these.

Not bothering with fixing himself breakfast, debating Natasha was probably still asleep in her bed in the med bay, he seated himself on the bar stool and heard out your plea.

He was not by any means ready for what was waiting for him after pressing play.

Whoever was filming was apparently not very good at it as the screen appeared to be shaking, but in the end, the device must have been placed on a steady surface and actually zoomed onto something concrete instead of showing a blur.

What surprised him more though was that it was Clint’s voice sounding from the speakers of his laptop, even before the screen showed his face.

“You for real? Do you realize what time it is…? --Oh, not as late as I thought actually. Ugh, okay. I guess that’s fair. You’re actually making this easier for me, you know that?”

Steve frowned, gulping as the voice of his teammate turned from annoyed to surprised to grateful. All of the emotions were far from what Steve had been met with yesterday’s afternoon after the mission.

The archer was seated on an empty bed in med bay, probably alone in the room (unless Steve counted the person who was filming), because there were no intrusive sounds. Steve wasn’t taken aback by the environment he found him in – after all, Clint probably spent a lot of time there, watching over his partner in both work and personal life. He fidgeted before looking directly to the camera.

“Okay. Here we go. Hey, Cap. Steve. I’m sorry. I… I shouldn’t have yelled at you yesterday. I was being an ass,” he admitted, the annoyance back – this time though, it looked as if the source of his indignation was Clint himself. “You know… you know Tasha’s my whole world and seeing her almost blown up… it got the best of me. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. In fact, I think I’d give the same order. So… I’m sorry.”

Steve gulped, not entirely convinced. If he was being honest, the seeds of doubts had been planted and while Clint’s apology did lift some of the weight from Steve’s shoulders, genuinely appreciated, his mood remained rather sour and gloomy.

Confusion never left him either. He was 95% percent sure you had been the one to film the apology, but the reason behind such action was escaping him. Had Clint left with you, hence apologizing like this instead of in person? That wasn’t right. Why would he go with you?

Turned out, expecting that that was it, the end of the recording, was a mistake. The recording went on and Steve only now noticed what length the timer actually showed. It would go for… several minutes, actually.

That was strange.

Clint on the screen fidgeted and took a deep breath, exchanging a look with of whom Steve assumed was you.

“The truth is, I wouldn’t trade places with you. Like, ever. The pressure we put on you must be unbearable. I think we forget about that sometimes, what a toll it has to take on you. The responsibility on your shoulders has to weigh a fucking ton. We don’t say thank you enough and when we do, you shrug it off, because that’s what you do. Because you think that’s what’s expected of you.”

Steve blinked in surprise, the words striking him right in his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. What… why would Clint say that?

“And it is, but I want to tell you we appreciate it. We do. To actually fulfil my assignment, I should phrase it differently. I appreciate your modesty, your determination and the fact I can always rely on you. Except when your lady’s around. Then you kinda get lost in-”

A terribly aimed slipper hit the archer in his shoulder and the corners of Steve’s lips automatically twitched in amusement. Oh yeah, it was definitely you behind the camera, now he was sure. Familiar warmth spread around his heart when he realized you wanted to prove him that Clint not only didn’t blame him, but appreciated him even.

What had Steve even done to deserve you?

“-ouch!” the man in the recording complained, pretending to be wounded. “What? It’s the truth—fine. You’re just- you’re great, man, alright? That’s it.”

Steve nearly went for his phone that very second, wanting to let you know how much he loved you, even though his doubts didn’t go away.

The picture changing in a sharp cut made him stop as he spotted a flash of red hair.

Natasha. She was awake. It was undoubtedly her and in a recent footage, because Steve recognized that wound on her head – and she was lying in a hospital bed.

What in the world even…?

The tension in his shoulders eased despite his heart racing. She was smirking even.

“Hey there, you righteous guilty-driven ass!” she greeted him, only to be scolded by your voice from behind the camera.

“Nat!“

“I swear I’m about to make a point!” the spy protested, raising her uninjured hand in a gesture of surrender. “So from what I understand, you’ll get this video only in the morning and by that time, you’ll have already checked up on me for three times – or four, unless you bothered to find this recording first thing after waking up – despite doctors telling you I’d be fine every time you do.”

That-- was unsurprisingly accurate. What Natasha said was true – Steve had checked up on her three times before you had talked him into finally going to bed to get some sleep and he had been thinking about stopping by first thing after finishing this video.

It was almost infuriating how much Natasha knew him, but Steve was too relieved she was awake, speaking and calling him out on his bullshit to care.

“‘cause you’re fussing, Rogers. You’re a mother hen.”

Steve sighed. She was right once more. He had been said such, multiple times. But he felt responsible for his team, for his friends and you and he had seen too many deaths in both the past and the modern times to not to fuss.

“But you know what? We bitch about it, but we love it,” Natasha announced, her smirk softening into a smile. “Let’s be honest; our team needs a babysitter. Clint and Tony are giant children with dangerous weapons, not to mention oh so mighty Thor, I admit I can get cocky just to prove myself in the sea of testosterone from all of you and Bruce… you always try to get him in, showing him that he’s worthy as both the Hulk and his human self. You’re a mother hen with giant heart and you’re baring it for us, carrying it on your sleeve and putting in into everything you do. So… keep rolling. And for god’s sake, do not visit me again.”

Terrible wink followed, very unsubtle, as if she was telling him she was only kidding, but at the same time not quite, because he was overdoing it with his mother-henning.

And Steve found himself laughing at the glint in her eyes, feeling tears forming in his own. His limbs felt strangely floaty, as did his head. He couldn’t remember receiving so much compliments and support in a very long time, certainly not from the former assassin duo.

The sensation was pleasant, but oh so unusual, he couldn’t even describe it.

Of course, the fact you had orchestrated this whole this was not helping his lovesickness. It was hard to tell whether it was day or night from the footage, when exactly you did this, but he was aware of how nervous you were about the symposium. You should have been going through your notes for your presentation (for like… the tenth time, because for all your brilliance, you were a very nervous speaker, a bit like Bruce); instead, you spent your spare time doing this, only to make Steve feel better.

And the video was far from being over.

Surely enough, the scenery changed again, the camera aimed at a computer screen this time. Steve didn’t understand until he recognized Thor, who was currently spending his time with Jane Foster in New Mexico, video-conferencing with you.

“Unbelievable,” Steve muttered under his breath, amazed.

“What is it, lady of Captain’s?” the alien demigod asked, frowning at the screen of his own computer. “This way of communication is still confusing, why are you writing when we can talk together? …Oh.”

The blond was silent for a moment, appearing in deep thought, before smiling broadly.

“Very well. What is of the Captain’s qualities. He’s a mighty warrior. A brave man I would always follow into battle without question. Excellent leader, always having his garrison’s safety in mind-“

A sting of guilt burned at Steve’s consciousness at that.

Did he? He always tried, sure… but was it enough? Yesterday’s incident was proving the opposite, yet he had been acting in utter belief that what he had decided was for the best, confident that the risk for his teammate was minimal. That was the problem with bad intel; they never knew it was bad until something blew up in their faces, sometimes literally. He could never predict what had happened.

And with each minute of this video, Steve felt he was letting a piece of the guilt go, along with doubt.

He wasn’t stupid; he knew that precisely that was the point of this thing, but… yeah, that realization did nothing against the fact that it was working.

“Steven radiates strength, both bodily and mentally and he is a great friend of all,” Thor on the screen continued in his loud voice. “I feel blessed by the Allfather and all Gods above for I encountered him and fought side-by-side with him as well celebrated victories. I look forward for more to come, always delighted by reconnecting with him.”

By the time Bruce in his lab coat appeared (seriously, how did you manage to get a hold of everyone? Steve wasn’t sleeping for that long, though it probably helped that half of his team, if not all, were insomniacs), Steve was breathless with anticipation, greedy for hearing what others had to say, no matter how selfish it made him.

He craved comfort and since you weren’t there… you obtained a different kind of comfort for him and shit, was it working.

“Uh. I’m not good at this-”

“Try? Please?” you asked the scientist softly and Steve could imagine your soothing smile, the gentle hope and plea in your eyes. Steve could never deny you when you asked something of him like that and when you stooped even lower and used your puppy eyes, he stood no chance.

“He’s lucky to have you, you know,” Bruce noted and Steve’s smile widened when you sounded flustered at that remark.

“Bruce…”

“What? You’re an important part of him we appreciate. But I understand complimenting you isn’t the point of this. Just let me… eh. Alright. I think I got it. I’m not good at talking, but I’m gonna try,” he exclaimed, clearly determined. He wasn’t looking directly into the camera, but that didn’t steal any significance from his words.

“Steve, I hope you don’t beat yourself over what happened yesterday. I mean… I know you do, but my point is – don’t. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. You do what you believe is right and we know you long enough to know that that moral compass of yours is as important as your quick decisions in the field – right ones. But what is even more important and why I appreciate you is that… you try to see that piece of goodness in everyone. You see it in Nat, who sure made some questionable things in the past. You see through Tony’s façade and… you see good in me. You look and you see good in people – and every creature – and that’s the best thing about you. Ugh… yeah, I don’t think I can do more.”

He smiled awkwardly, fiddling with his fingers then and lowering his gaze.

It was easy to imagine what – or rather who – was coming next. Steve wasn’t confident he could take it. He had felt an uncomfortable stinging in his eyes two people back, few tears at bay, but he wanted to watch the rest.

The floating sensation overwhelmed his brain and he was honestly surprised he was still breathing, because he felt too stunned to do so. And he felt… moved. Appreciated. Cherished. Hell, he even felt the confidence he needed in the field to the exact quick decisions Bruce had mentioned slowly returning.

His team, his friends… they trusted him. They doubted him less than he doubted himself.

The picture got blurry once more, Tony’s incredulous voice crystal clear.

“So you want me to make a video equivalent of a love letter to him,” the billionaire stated sceptically and despite himself, Steve grinned.

Tony was a complicated person, but leave it to him to be sarcastic and lift the spirit in his own very specific way.

“No! That’s not- Tony. Please?”

“You know, this puppy eyes shit only works on Rogers, not-“ he wavered and Steve laughed as the recording cleared and focused on Tony’s torn expression. Oh, he was going to give in to Steve’s amazing girl, Steve could tell. “-shit. I can’t believe you’re making me do this. You’re infuriating.”

“I know,” you sing-sang as Tony sunk further into the chair in his workshop. “And thanks.”

“Fine. Hey, Capsicle.”

Steve could practically hear your eyeroll at the nickname and for a good measure, he rolled his eyes too. Capsicle. It used to irritate him more, the word Stark used the first time they met. Now it was-- Steve was only mildly annoyed when Tony called him that. There were worse names he had been called.

“Steve. I bet you know, unlike like Miss America over here, that I only give nicknames to people I like,” Tony made a point, looking at you with a smirk and Steve was sure a light-bulb appeared above his own head as he realized that… it actually made sense.

“There aren’t many of those and even less of them realize that they are part of that exclusive club. Look, I do stupid shit. I built robots for fun and to cover for the fact I couldn’t exactly fight without them, and I’m terrible with people. Fury didn’t even want me on the Avengers initiative, because I’m known for being a selfish bastard and not a team player, which you recognized within five minutes of meeting me.”

Steve felt rather bad for such an early assumption. Admittedly, he had been harsh on the man, letting the information he had received cloud his judgement and became a willing victim of prejudice. Hearing Tony self-reflecting his faults, eating the humble pie, it only proved how wrong Steve had been. Hell, Tony had turned out to be the man to make the sacrifice the very same day Steve had accused him of his inability to do so.

Which was why Tony’s next words knocked the air out of Steve’s lungs very effectively, striking his heart with deadly precision. He honestly had no idea what to do with the knowledge he obtained now.

“The thing is, your stupid blond ass is making me want to change that. I hate saying this, because I’m aware it can be used against me, but you’re my friend. I respect you and I admire you. You inspire people. I will always brag about the time I carried a nuke into a wormhole, but the truth is, as much as I liked Coulson and his death was something that brought us together, without you, I don’t think I would have done it. I will bitch about you, I will call you names, I will be an arrogant ass, because that’s who I am, but it won’t change the fact I look up to you. …‘kay. I think that I did ok-- are you crying?”

Steve shook himself, for a moment swearing Tony could see him and spoke directly to him. He quickly blinked away the few tears, shocked to his very core.

Tony… was claiming to take the risk of dying during the battle of New York, because… Steve had inspired him? What the actual-

“Shut up,” you murmured at Tony’s accusation and Steve couldn’t blame you one bit for the tears he couldn’t see. He was such a mess himself. This was too much.

What Tony had said, what you had done for him, what everyone shared through this recording--

He wanted to close the laptop shut and deal with the raging sea of emotions, the silly laugh and tears threatening to spill in waterfalls, the feeling of his heart swelling and nearly bursting in his chest, making it difficult to breathe, his head spinning-

But the video was still not over.

The scenery didn’t quite change, except the chair Tony had been sitting in was empty now, his voice sounding as he spoke from a different angle to the device.

“Come on, doc, you have to do this too, otherwise it won’t count. Do it for the old man. Should I leave so my virgin ears don’t bleed on the dirty things you-“

“Tony… shut up.”

Steve could hear your sigh and heavy hesitant steps and then you appeared in the frame, seating into the chair with a discontent frown, fidgeting nervously.

Steve thought his mouth might actually tear with how widely he was smiling now. You were adorable as the camera revealed you in all your glory – Steve’s long t-shirt you usually slept in and a pair of baggy sweatpants you wore when you were cold, as well as a light sweater thrown over your shoulders. Which, given how tired you looked, made sense, because you were always cold when you didn’t get enough sleep.

Steve hadn’t thought he could get any more touched by what you did, but seeing you now, he assessed the sacrifice you had made just to make him feel better all over again, the severity of your actions hitting him.

What you had done must have been a spontaneous action; you had actually filmed all of those things in the late night and early morning. Tired, with no make-up on yet, but smiling that nervous sweet smile, you tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. You were not looking to the camera, worrying your teeth over your lip.

“Okay, okay…. Please, look directly to the camera and state your name and date of birth for the record,” Tony encouraged you, indulging the moment your roles reversed.

“I’m not doing that,” you hissed, but then you raised your gaze and Steve’s heart stopped. Despite the exhaustion on your face, your eyes radiated warmth and tenderness. “Hey, Stevie. I guess Tony has a point for once-“

“Hey-!“

“-and since I came up with this, I should contribute. But where do I even start?” you wondered as if you truly had to wonder, as if there were too many things to point out. Steve craved having you in his arms to hug you profusely and kiss the living daylight of you for being so sweet and precious.

“And they all gave names to your qualities so well! Uhm… now, I don’t have a first-hand experience with your Avenging, so I can leave out this part of you, but there is still so much to love about you. First of all, you’re kind. Such a gentle soul, such a giver. You’ve been kicked down so many times and yet here you are, not yelling at me when I eat too much chocolate and then complain about stomach-ache and my belly being too soft-“ Steve chuckled at that, recalling way too many times that situation occurred. “I bet that watching this video, you’re still thinking I look cute instead of acknowledging I look like shit. Because you seek the beauty in everything and you love the world. It was one of the first things I noticed about you-“

“Right after his ass and muscles, no doubt mesmerized by his sky-blue eyes,“ Tony hummed from the background, effectively startling Steve who had honestly let the fact that Tony was even there slip from his mind, too lost in your love declarations.

“Fuck you, Tony. And his eyes are not sky-blue, they have a little green in them.“

“Really? Jarvis, show me a good picture…”

“Anyway. You give so much and don’t ask anything in return. Sometimes I can see how much you want to, but you never do. It’s like you don’t expect to get it anyway, not even the little things. As if you didn’t deserve it. Newsflash, Stevie, you do. You deserve the world. I wish I could give it to you…”

Oh, you’re doing that, sweetheart, Steve wished to tell you, but even if he had you on the phone at the moment, he wouldn’t be able to say a word with his throat constricted with the overwhelming emotions.

“And the world itself won’t come crushing down over a mistake that wasn’t even in your power to avoid and it won’t break down if you take a breath and relax. I always think I’m on the right way to convince you about that, but then you shy away from it. You matter, Stevie. You, Steven Grant Rogers, matter so much. Everyone pointed out at least one thing about you and not the Captain and that’s not a coincidence. Despite everything, you’re only human, we remember that and we all love you for it.”

“Some more than others…” Tony interrupted again, his voice carrying a hoarseness as if he was affected by your speech as well. You pointedly ignored him.

“Don’t forget that. I have it from a good source that a guy once told you that everything special about you came from a bottle. We both know that’s a load of bullshit. Even Doctor Erskine recognized how special you were and decided to choose you. Good becomes great, you told me he said. Well, sure. It just needed an opportunity to show. Let’s be honest, I have no doubt that your stubbornness and other tiny flaws amplified too, because you’re unbelievable sometimes, but that’s okay. In the end, you’re the best man I have ever met and I am lucky and feel proud to be called yours. I love you, Stevie. So much,” your voice lowered to a whisper and with a tight smile, you lightly kissed your fingers and nearly touched the lens of the camera.

Steve choked on a watery laugh. You really were too cute for words. A brilliant scientist, one of the most intelligent women the world knew, and here you were being adorable and utterly devoted to him.

Christ, he didn’t deserve you.

“Stupid allergies…” Tony complained, fooling no one as his voice came out scratchy from the lump that no doubt formed in his throat. “You done?”

To Steve’s utter surprise, you shook your head, drying a stray tear that escaped your eyes as well, but the corners of your lips twitched in attempted smile.

“Just a sec. I’m sorry, I want to edit this video more, cut some parts out, but I’ll probably run out of time and I want you to have it in the morning. It’s a bit messy, but I hope with all my heart that you received the message loud and clear.” You have no idea. “Also, sorry for the killer dose of painkillers and sneaking out without a goodbye. I’d be pissed if you did that to me, so… you know, sorry. I promise to make it up to you when I’m back-”

“Ouch, ouch! That’s what I was talking about, I did not want to hear that! I’m scarred for life!” Tony howled dramatically and Steve didn’t even had energy to roll his eyes. He was a complete mess.

“Tony? You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re too good to be true, doc. I think you gotta get on the plane in like thirty minutes, so-“

A look of utter shock and horror appeared on your face and you jumped from the chair with admirable energy for such an early hour and the all-nighter you pulled. “Shit, shit shit-- I’m not gonna edit it at all then, dammit-“

“Nah, I bet it’s better without it, more authentic. Go write a note or something equally sickeningly sweet that you romantics do-”

“Turn it off, you goof!” you giggled, reaching for the camera and the screen went black as if on command.

Steve sat on the bar stool for several minutes, staring on the screen absently, grinning and feeling… so indescribably loved he couldn’t quite contain it.

What you had done-

Feeling like an idiot for not doing it earlier, he sprang towards the bedroom to get his phone, typing a message to you. If he remembered correctly, you might still be on your way, but sometimes it was hard to tell with Tony’s inventions.

S: Have a safe flight and nice stay, sweetheart. You’ll rock. x

S: And thank you for what you’ve done. I don’t deserve you.

His heart skipped a beat when the phone chimed in response almost instantly.

♥: Clearly, you weren’t paying enough attention when watching. Go play it again, Stevie.

He grinned. Apparently, despite the lack of sleep and the nerves he had seen every time you had thought of your presentation, you were fine.

His heart felt too big for his ribcage, squishing his lungs as it grew in size, barely being able to let out a laugh.

S: I did!

S: Correction then: thank you. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ll always be grateful for you and I love you more than anything.

This time, he expected the early comeback.

♥: Love you too. Miss you already! xxx

Steve set the phone down with a goofy smile plastered over his face and went to watch the video again – the part with you anyway.

He could go and check on Natasha later. After all, she told him not to do that again anyway.

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S.R. masterlist

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I should be posting Errare Humanum Est and Attached, but I was feeling a bit down and overwhelmed with schoolwork, so I dusted off this baby for you. I hope you enjoyed :-*

Steve deserves some love from his girl and from his teammates. I actually considered writing this with few alternations so it was Peter doing the video (as a non-relationship kind of thing), but I guess this is even sweeter... in a romantic way anyway.

Thank you for reading!

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