Chapter Text
You were working furiously as you always were. Your fingers flying across the keyboard of your computer while you typed up a hundred different emails for a hundred different recipients and writers. Your leg was tugged up beneath you and you had pulled your hair up into what probably constituted into the ugliest bun you'd ever manage to make. But you couldn't bring yourself to care because you needed to be able to see your computer and your notes at all times.
Currently you were working your fingers down to the bone as your typed out the first draft of an email for the New York senator on behalf of Tony and Pepper. The email was in regard to their latest endeavor; a new public park that was safer than the other ones around the city, with an amazing play structure and basketball court. They also wanted to build a swimming pool that nobody had to pay for, so the underprivileged children could have their own place to go. It was a sweet idea, really, but you weren't sure it was enough to win over the senator. Especially when he was known for being a hard-assed penny pincher. You couldn't say you were his biggest fan.
"Smith!" Tony shouted from across the lobby, his voice echoing through the walls to gain your attention. "What have I said about you wearing those things at work?" You knew he was referring to the t-shirt you wore.
Sighing, you leaned back in your chair, making the sound as exaggerated as you could so he could hear you. Stretching your arms over your head, you took a moment to respond. "Nothing. And if you try to now, I will leak your personal number to the press." You knew your shirt didn't meet business professional, but you also knew Tony would let you wear it anyway. The black t-shirt had slender pink writing across your chest that said, 'If you're tall, I'm single' and it was one of the many sarcastically sloganed t-shirts you owned.
The man stared at you for a moment with a blank expression before he nodded, "Got it, have fun." The man winked and snapped, pointing a quick finger gun to you before he sauntered towards the elevator to head down to the main lobby.
You were stationed at the top floor, where all the Avengers resided if they so choose, and you had been offered an apartment there alongside them; but you refused. You wanted a place that was separate from work, even if you took work home with you most nights. You had a fairly large desk that arched in crescent moon shape near the elevators, so everyone passed you when they were coming and going, which was often. You saw more the Avengers than you did your own family, but that wasn't an issue for you, you didn't have much family to see.
"Hey."
You glanced back up at the familiar voice, your name dripping off of his gravelly tone. Steve was standing in front of your desk with a cardboard coffee cup and slanted smile that made you smile back. You always smiled when you saw Steve, it was muscle memory now; a habit you picked up. "Hey, Stevie."
"I brought you coffee, figured you needed it." He said softly, handing the brown cup over to you and your smile brightened.
"Oh, Steven Rogers, what a man you are." You exhaled, taking a long sip from the cup, you failed to notice the red tinge that coated his neck and ears as you get the cup down on your desk. "Thank you, I thought my head was going to explode if I had to stare at this computer any longer." You knew that you would be lucky to get a break with all the interference you were running for the group.
"How long have you been staring at that- thing?" Steve asked with a grimace that made you melt inside.
"Hours and hours, captain." You admitted, leaning back to look up at him. You saw something flash behind his deep blue eyes, but you chose not to study it. "You guys are not easy to write emails for, especially when a certain leader of America refuses to eve touch a computer." You gave the man a pointed look that he just smiled at.
"Have you taken your break yet? We can go get lunch." The man offered, hope creeping into his tone.
You shook your head, "I can't. I have way too much to do. I already know that I'll have to take some of this home, so I'm trying to force myself through a good chunk of this. It's hard having to bounce between all of you guys."
"Why not do all the emails for one person? Like all the ones for Tony first since they're the most important and then go down the list of most important to least." Steve suggested, leaning against the desk as his eyes skimmed over your t-shirt and his face was captured by a red flush that was thankfully hidden beneath his dark beard.
"You are a genius!" You exclaimed at his brilliant idea, and you launched forward, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw before you settled back into your chair and began to sort out the emails by person and went from most recent to the earliest. Your eyes flew across your computer screen, and you smiled up at the man briefly, "Thanks, Stevie. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Be here forever." The man joked.
Your smoke widened and you shook your head with a chuckle. “You truly are a hero, captain, saving my free time.”
"Anything for the public, ma’am.” His nodded his head mockingly before he smiled at you. “I’ll let you finish up here and I’ll see you later, okay?”
"Okay! Bye, Stevie!” You called after him as you resumed your work with a new wave of efficiency. Steve smiled again, watching you with fond eyes for a moment before he retreated back to his apartment and left you to your work.
His cheeked buzzed with warmth from where you’d kissed him. He’d do anything to have you do it again.
With the help of Steve’s idea, you’d managed to knock at least two fourths of your work before it was time for you to clock out for the day. You were ecstatic, to say the least. Happy to be going home with the lighted work you’d seen in months. Those pesky heroes kept you busy, sometimes you questioned your choice or profession; but you knew you’d never go anywhere else.
It wasn’t just that the pay was good, but the Avengers were your family, Tony knew your parents personally and they adored him. Your nana made Christmas sweaters for all of them; simple ones with their name knitted on the front of whatever color she’d chosen for that year. They’d grown to become a part of your everyday life. You really couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. This place was a second home to you.
As you turned off your computer and packed up your personal things, you felt your stomach grumble and you knew you’d have to stop off somewhere to eat. You’d only had a handful of granola bars and the coffee Steve brought you in the time that you’d been here, which had been hours.
"Headed out?” Steve called from the hall, walking briskly from his room, glancing down at his watch.
"Yep. It’s quittin’ time for me, and I am in desperate need for dinner.” You admitted as you slung your bag over your shoulder.
“Want company?” He offered, stuffing his hands in his pockets with a slightly tilted head.
You pause, biting your lip as you thought it over before you shrugged. “Company can’t hurt— especially if it’s you.” Walking around your desk you met him at the desk with a nonchalant look on your face as if you hadn’t just made his heart swell in his chest.
"Aren’t you a sweet talker?” Steve teased, nudging your arm with his elbow.
"Bucky’s taught me well.” You replied with a smirk as you placed the lobby button on the elevator.
The man snorted at that, “Bucky ain’t that good at sweet talkin’. He’s lost his touch.”
You stepped through the doors and turned to face him with an arched brow. “Let’s agree to disagree, Rogers.”
"Oh really?”
You nodded, watching as his stepped in beside you; his board frame towering over you. He had an amused expression on his face but his eyes were just a little different. Crossing your arms, you smirked up at him, “Really.”
His lips tilted and he hummed, letting it slide for now, yet his eyes were still lacking the amusement that his face held. You wondered why. Steve loved to talk about Bucky, he did it incessantly. Bucky was his best friend, after all, and he’d spent a long time fighting to protect Bucky’s name.
Watching him for a moment, you shoved it away and turned forward, pulling your phone from the back pocket of your jeans to look at the map you’d pulled up on your phone before leaving. “You like Korean, right?”
"Why?”
You glanced up, a confused expression falling over your face. “You’re coming to dinner with me, Stevie, I wanna make sure it’s something we both like.”
Steve, in fact, did not like Korean. He didn’t like the spices and the textures. He ate it for you and he did it with a goddamn smile on his face, he would even go as far as licking the plate to make you smile. So, no, he didn’t like Korean, but he’d eat it every day if that’s what you wanted. “Korean, it is.” He smiled down at you, which couldn’t help but widen as you grinned, bouncing twice on your heels before looking back to your phone to get the address.
You’d been there before but you had a habit of forgetting street names, so you wanted to engrave the address into your brain so you could avoid taking yourself and Steve to the wrong place. You’d done that before. Multiple times.
As the elevator stopped and the doors began to open, you realized how close you and Steve were. Pressed shoulder to shoulder almost, his hands leisurely in his pockets as if he didn’t notice. Steve smelled like lavender laundry detergent and something woodsy. He smelled exactly how you expected him to smell. Which you never realized you’d thought about until now.
Steve let you leave first, falling dutifully into step beside you. He’d slowed down, knowing if he walked his usual speed, you’d just been trailing behind him. He had a whole foot and a couple inches over you, standing at 6’4”. He’d learned very quickly that if he walked too fast, you’d be left behind.
This didn’t bother him, though. Steve liked being beside you and he didn’t mind having to change small things for you; whether you noticed or not, he would always do it so he could see that smile light up your face when you looked up at him. He had imagined you looking up at him many different wa— quit thinking about that.
You stowed your phone away and linked your arm through the crook in his elbow, the small action making his heart stutter despite how often you did this. You did it with only a few people, such as himself, Bucky and Bruce. Bruce was your closest friend; it was thanks to him you had the job because you’d been his personal assistant way back before the accident and he’d be damned if he didn’t help you the way you had helped him.
Steve smiled at the feel of your warm hand pressed against his bicep. It never failed to make him beam when you touched him, even in the slightest. Bucky never ceased the teasing once it was just the two of them. Steve had threatened to let his middle school phots surface if the super soldier even dared to breathe a word of this to your face.
But that didn’t stop Bucky from flirting with you here and now, trying to spur Steve into action. It didn’t work, obviously, since you and him were just friends. But, God, Steve wanted more. He just didn’t know if you did too.
He wanted to wake up next to you, waking up earlier than you to stare at your sleeping face. He could picture it from the handful of times you’d fallen asleep on your desk. Your lips parted and snoring softly. He wanted to kiss your cheeks and watch you smile in your sleep.
He wanted to make you breakfast and wake up with kisses on your bare shoulders. He wanted to help you shower and clean your body, rub the tension from your shoulders. He wanted to cook and clean and cherish you. He wanted to love you the way you deserved to be loved; to completely devote himself to you.
Steve was so caught up in his thoughts of what he wanted to do with you that he’d missed what you had just said. He blinked as you stared at him expectantly; “Sorry.” He cleared his throat, running his hand over his hair, “What’d you say?”
"I asked if you’d looked over the business proposal, I left for you yesterday. The fundraiser for the WISH Foundation.” You repeated as the both of you crossed the road.
"Oh. Yeah, I liked it. When was it again?” He asked, licking his lips.
"This coming September.” You answered simply, moving closer to him as more people filed through the bustling New York streets. “On the 23rd in the Hastings Centre. They want you to speak and show support for their work. I could draft you up a speech if you’d like, so you don’t have to worry about more work.”
Steve smiled at her and shook his head, “I can write my own speeches, honey. You don’t need to do more work just for me.”
You hummed, your cheeks flushing at the term of endearment. It wasn’t a new thing for Steve to drop sweet nicknames for you, he did it often, but it never failed to make you blush. “Alright, Stevie, just let me know if you need help. You should have it done by— “
Your name falls from his lips, and you pause, looking at him expectantly. He’s smiling at you warmly, his eyes so soft and pretty. “You don’t have to take any more work home with you.” He said softly. “We’re getting dinner not hashing out speeches and plans. Let’s just eat.”
Goddamn you, Steve Rogers. He always knew how to melt your heart, with those big baby blues and that kind smile. He was by far the most handsome you’d ever seen, with dark blond hair and his thick beard. His muscles taut and perfected, his confidence airy and light but even with how it was veiled, he carried himself with a dominance that went straight into your core at times.
"Alright, alright.” You caved, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “What would you like to talk about, Mr. Rogers?”
Steve grinned and his free hand went up to his beard, gently raking his fingers through the dark coarse hair there. “I was thinking about shaving the beard.”
"Don’t.” You said immediately. “Do not shave, your beard is… very becoming.” God, you would die if he shaved his beard. It was so fucking hot on him, he looked too good with it.
"Oh yeah?” He teased, scratching at his chin with a knowing smile at your hurried tone. “You like it, don’t you?”
You rolled your eyes and sighed dramatically. “No, you just look ridiculous with a clean-shaven face.”
"Right, right.” Steve murmured, looking down at you with an arched brow. He looked good enough to eat.
Swallowing, you look away from him and point towards the Korean food truck a little way down. “There’s our dinner.”
“You order, I’ll call a car for us so you can eat at home.” Before you could protest, he leveled you with a stern look. “You’re not riding the subway home, honey.”
You cave under his unrelenting gaze and huff, moving to go place your guys’ order. Steve pays before you have the chance, earning him a glare that he returned with an amused expression.
As the two of you wait patiently for the food to be delivered, you wriggle your shoulders and crossed your arms. The late-night chill finally hitting you. You pursed your lips and hunched over yourself, trying to contain the little warmth you had.
"Are you cold?" Steve asks, looking at you with a worried expression.
"A little." You admit, rubbing your upper arms as you look up at him with a quick smile, "But we won't be here much longer, so I'll be-" Your sentence died on your tongue as Steve slipped out of his jacket, standing behind you with the coat held up, waiting for you to slip your arms through the sleeves. You stared at him for a moment, your lips parted in surprise before you obeyed the silent command and pushed your arms through the dense fabric. Steve remained silent, pushing the jacket up until it was all the way over your shoulders. "Thanks." You murmured, smiling at Steve who returned it.
He slid into place at your side, watching your red face as you pulled the zipper up to your chin, letting his jacket swallow you. His lips stayed in a fond smile while you shoved your hands into your pockets. He would love to see you in all of his clothes. Brushing your teeth in his t-shirt and boxers, your glasses dangling over your nose. Wearing his jacket while you go out to get the mail. Pulling on his sweatpants from the floor to find him making breakfast for the two of them. His chest tightened at the thought because he didn't think he'd ever get it. You were his friend and co-worker, and you definitely didn't see Steve in that light. You were far too good and charming to think of him in a romantic sense.
Your name is called from the stand, and you go to retrieve the food with an excited smile on your face. When you return, you're beaming at him, so excited and happy, ready to go home and eat. Steve decided there that he didn't care if he hated anything anymore, he'd eat, do, wear, say and like anything you even showed a remote interest in as long as he got to see the excited smile that warmed your beautiful face.