Warnings: light drinking (no bad decisions), toothache-inducing fluff, implied smut for .02 seconds
Prompt: Steve / Giving him a lift back to his office after he forgets his keys after a post-mission bar hop - from @syntheticavenger
A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @syntheticavenger’s How It Started - How It’s Going 5K Challenge! This is my first time sharing a fic in seven years, so I’m a little nervous. If I missed any warnings, please let me know! I tried to make the reader as neutral as possible in characteristics, but I do identify as female, so I wanted to be safe and classify this as a female reader. (I also made no mention of height except that Steve is taller than Reader hehe, so I hope taller folks can picture themselves, too.) This was not beta’d because I’m entering at the last minute (typical), so if there’s anything incorrect or that doesn’t make sense, please reach out. :) I hope you enjoy!!!!!
How it started…
Shit.
Your coworker at the local pub called out sick. He was supposed to relieve you at 7:30, leaving you time to freshen up before your date picked you up at 8 PM. It was now 7:55 PM. Your manager wasn’t answering your calls, a sure sign that you should text your date and apologize profusely for canceling at the last minute.
Y/N: Hey, Johnny. So sorry, but I can’t make it tonight. :( My coworker is out sick and no one else can cover. Can we reschedule?
🔥: I was about to text and say I’m running late. All good.
Y/N: Are you busy tomorrow?
When Johnny hadn’t answered you by 9 PM, you weren’t sure how to feel. Your phone lit up with a notification: humantorch81 has added to their story. The little voice in your head told you not to click it, but click it you did. A selfie-style video played, and you watched Johnny take one shot, then a second, then a third… The fourth clip showed him stuffing $100 bills in someone’s cleavage. Douchebag.
Thunderous laughter and applause in the doorway had you closing the app and putting your phone in your back pocket. A group of men came into view. Maybe working tonight wouldn’t be so bad. You recognized one of the men as James (he told you to call him Bucky) Barnes, the former Winter Soldier. He was a regular at the pub, located only a ten-minute drive from the Avengers Compound. Bucky, Sam Wilson, and sometimes Thor frequented the pub, regaling you with tales of both past battles and present gossip. Lucky for you, they also tipped well. You could make out a few more familiar faces, including Tony Stark’s. Okay, they were probably tipping very well tonight.
The door opened once again and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. In walked Captain America, your childhood crush. Your admiration for him never really subsided. If anything, it was renewed when he was recovered from the ice during your junior year of high school. When you were small, you often would talk about how you were in love with Captain Rogers, making him the subject of your art projects and writing assignments. As you grew up, you saw how silly you’d been and merely appreciated how beautiful and gentlemanly he seemed. Your sanity was well and truly tested, though, the first time you met him, and it turned out he was even more wonderful than you dreamed he’d be. You barely could stand to speak to him, let alone look at him, out of shyness.
Tonight was no different. Seeing Steve standing in front of you with flushed cheeks and tousled hair, you thought your heart might burst or you might start drooling - you weren’t sure which would happen first. Mr. Tall, Blond, and Handsome started making his way towards you, eyes downcast as if he were nervous. Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous to order a drink? From you, of all people?
He finally looked up at you, only to stumble over his own two feet. The blush that had just disappeared returned quickly, tinging his freckled nose and perfect cheeks with the most flattering shade of pink that complemented his sparkling blue eyes. The first time you’d met, he had a full beard. He was clean-shaven now, and although you loved the facial hair on him, his boyish face made him look like a Disney prince. It took everything in you not to swoon.
“Hey, Y/N. Long time, no see.” He let out a short, bashful laugh that made the butterflies in your tummy flutter. He scratched the back of his neck, not quite able to meet your gaze.
“Hi, Captain Rogers!” You judged yourself for sounding so eager to see him. “It’s good to see you. Been a while,” you smiled at him, reaching for a fresh gravity pint glass. “What can I get you? Your usual?” Steve typically started his visits with a pint of Guinness, and then depending on the occasion, he’d order either more of the same or some whiskey.
He began to pull his credit card out of his wallet. “You’re too good to me, doll. And please, can you call me Steve?” He passed his card to you and you put it next to the register. “This may be a long shot, but do you know how to make a Singapore Sling? We’re celebrating after completing a two-month mission tonight, and I’m craving something sweet.” Either you were crazy or Captain Rog- Steve, you corrected yourself - was looking at your lips when he said that.
“Well, Steve,” you said pointedly, “I actually do know how to make one. That’s one of my favorites.”
“No kidding! I hardly order them, but when I do, no one’s even heard of them. I guess my age is showing.” He sat down then, watching you grab the pineapple juice from the refrigerator.
“You don’t look a day over 103, Cap,” you giggled, winking at him. Since when do I giggle?, you thought. Who do I think I am? You managed not to smack your own forehead, though you were sure you’d berate yourself later. “But yeah, my grandmother introduced me to them a few years ago. They were her favorite, and they quickly became mine.” You passed the glass to him, peeking at him from under your lashes as you awaited his reaction.
Steve picked up the glass and raised it to you first before taking a sip. It wasn’t lost on you that his lips apparently were that pink before the bright red liquid ever touched them. “Gosh, this is perfect,” he nearly moaned. For what felt like the millionth time in ten minutes, you felt your face heat up once again. “Thank you so much, Y/N. It’s just like I remember.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I’m glad you like it.” He smiled at you softly, looking like he wanted to say something more. “Go celebrate, Steve. Let me know if you’d like anything else, okay?” You squeezed his hand where it rested on top of the bar. The action felt so natural for some reason, but before he could react, you pulled away, busying yourself with drying glasses.
A few hours and more than a few shots of Asgardian mead later, Steve found himself at the bar with you. He told the others he’d stay behind while you closed up so you wouldn’t be alone. You exchanged stories about your friends and families. You learned that his favorite meal was shepherd’s pie, and that his mom would make it for his birthday every year, even though the tiny apartment would be sweltering hot with the oven on in July. Funnily enough, that was your favorite meal too, both to cook and to eat. You told him you’d love to make it for him sometime, and he said he’d like that very much.
After closing out the register, you turned around to find Steve resting his chin in both of his hands, staring at you with what you only could classify as puppy dog eyes. You’d never noticed how long and dark his lashes were before. You exited from behind the bar, his eyes following you until you stopped beside him. “Ready to go, Cap?”
“Of course, sweetheart.” He grabbed your hand and stood up, wobbling a bit. “I’ll drive you home.”
“Oh, nooo, you won’t. You’re in no condition to drive.” He still held onto your hand and started to lead you to the door. “Besides, I only live ten minutes away from the Compound. It’s practically on my way home. I’d be happy to drive you back.” He hummed in agreement and squeezed your hand, a muted show of thanks as he clearly was growing more tired by the minute.
You walked outside and he continued to hold your hand as you locked up, carrying your purse on his opposite shoulder. Even though you were driving, he insisted on opening your car door for you.
The drive was quiet, but pleasantly so. You found yourself relaxed in his presence, something you never would have believed a few hours ago. As nervous as you felt around him, you couldn’t help but think he felt nervous around you, too, and as you got to know each other tonight, those nerves began to dissipate, allowing you to start falling for Steve, for real this time.
“Y/N?” You glanced over at Steve who you thought had been asleep. In fact, he’d been watching you, memorizing your profile and trying to gather the courage to say what was on his mind.
“Steve?”
“You’re so pretty,” he cooed, reaching to brush your cheek with his thumb. “I mean, you’re more than that. You’re beautiful, you’re smart, you’re- dammit.”
You put the car in park since Steve decided to begin his confession just as you were pulling up to his apartment building. He clearly was having a difficult time, undoubtedly worsened by the otherworldly alcohol in his system. You turned to look at him, reaching for his hand, encouraging him to continue.
He took a deep breath, covering your hand with both of his. “What I’m trying to say is, I think you’re lovely and I’ve liked you for quite some time. Would you maybe wanna go out to dinner sometime?” The way his eyes twinkled as they searched your face told you he’d lasso the moon and pull it down for you if you asked him to.
You leaned forward, cupping his cheek with your other hand, to kiss his forehead. “I’d love that, Steve.” The smile on his face could have melted the very ice that once entrapped him. He gave you a soft kiss on the cheek, and you stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the feel of each other so close.
You exchanged numbers, Steve asking you to text him when you arrived home and you promising you would do just that. He reached into his pocket, but to his surprise, his keys were nowhere to be found. He leaned forward, lightly smacking his head on the dashboard. “I hate to ruin this moment, sweetheart, but I must have left my keys in the office building on the other side of campus. I’ll just walk over, okay? Text me when you’re home?” He moved to open his door.
“Steve, don’t be ridiculous,” you chided with a laugh. “It’ll take 30 seconds to drive you over there.” You grabbed his hand, urging him to stay seated.
The drive was quick, and Steve ran in and out of the office even quicker, keys to his apartment in hand. You drove him back to the apartment building again. “I don’t think I forgot anything else now,” he laughed more to himself than to you. “Thank you so much for everything. Good night, Y/N.” He exited the car and before you lost your nerve, so did you.
“Wait!” You followed after him, and he stopped in his tracks. “I forgot something this time.” You stood on your tiptoes and reached for his face, planting your lips on his. Steve’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but he instantly relaxed into you, putting one hand on the side of your neck and the other on your waist.
How it’s going...
You heard your phone ringing in the kitchen, having left it out there to time when the shepherd’s pie would be done baking. You answered immediately after reading the caller ID. “Hey, honey. Everything okay?”
“Hi, sweetheart. Everything’s all right. I can’t wait to see you. Listen, are you home already?”
“Yeah, I took off today, actually. I made you dinner. Are you calling because you forgot your keys?”
“Yes, actually,” he sighed with relief. “I’m glad to know I didn’t lose them. Tony would have been annoyed with me… again.”
Whenever you saw an opportunity to tease Steve, you took it. “It seems you’re becoming forgetful in your advanced age, Old Man Rogers.”
He hummed, the tone of his voice a shade lower than a moment ago. “That’s real funny, sweetheart. I don’t think you were calling me old last night or even this morning, as a matter of fact. I had no trouble keeping up with you then.”
“Steven Grant! Why, I never,” you replied with your best Southern belle impression. Your face suddenly felt warm to the touch, and it wasn’t because the oven was on.
He barked out a laugh. “Maybe I’ll have to remind you how old I’m not when I get home. I’ll see you in an hour, Mrs. Rogers.”
Any reminder that you were married to this man made your heart sing. “I love you, Steve.”
