Hello Lovelies! This is a story that will include a bunch of various boyfriend scenarios encompassing Earth's mightiest heroes themselves! They may be a little random at times, but completely adorable none the less! I take requests so always feel fr...
You sit amongst your fellow bar-goers with a small smile dancing across your lips. After the long, exhaustingly tragic day you've had, you were finally in a place of peace.
Peace...hidden within blasting speakers, confident flirts, and gallons of alcohol just itching to find its place in your glass.
"A chocolate martini, please," you request from the bartender, slipping him a twenty in hopes that he will up the liquor content.
He nods, smiling politely as he disappears behind the counter to prepare your beverage. When he returns, he gives you your glass coupled with a flirtatious raise of the eyebrows.
"One chocolate martini for you, gorgeous," he speaks, unable to mask his devilishly handsome grin, "Enjoy."
Too caught up in thought to catch his drift, you respond with a simple thank you and a half smile. He longingly eyes your red lips, planning to return as soon as your drink has been emptied.
~~ A few feet away ~~
"Oh no, oh no, oh no," Steve panics, pacing back and forth before his good friend Natasha, "Did you see the way that guy looked at her? There's no way she-"
"Steve," Nat interjects, "Have you been near a mirror recently? You are the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and I'm sure she will agree. Just talk to her!"
Steve shifts his weight from foot to foot, his nervousness increasing despite her compliment. "But...but..."
"The worst thing that could happen is she politely rejects you. Then you move on with your life. But the best thing that could happen is she takes a liking to you, and that could lead to a date."
He takes a breath, nodding slowly.
Unbelievable, right? This man has walked into World War 2, taken down all of HYDRA, and even brought himself to battle one of his best friends...but he can't buy a pretty girl a drink without hyperventilating.
Same old Steve.
"Go now, Fossil, or I'll talk to her for you."
"N-No!," he clears his throat, "No, I can do it."
Gathering up all of the courage in his possession, he stands up as straight as possible and strides over to the bar stool beside you. "Hi there, Miss."
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His voice starts out strong, but when you turn to him, your lovely (e/c) eyes demolish all of his strength and he visibly melts before you.
"Hi?," you greet him with hesitation, not knowing exactly what kind of man was about to attempt a flirting facade for you.
"U-Uh...uh... H-Hi...um..," he struggled for words, his hands moving around clumsily as he tried to regain his composure.
You eye him curiously, honestly wondering if he was about to have an asthmatic episode.
"I-I'm Steve...um...y-you're beautiful...uh..."
You smile softly, flattered by both his words and his demeanor. Something in you liked how your presence was affecting him.
"Well thank you, Steve. I'm (Y/n). Would you...like to sit down?"
He nods, the goofy smile on his face proving his excitement. "Um...can I b-buy you a drink, (Y/n)?" He shakily pulls a wallet from his pocket. It nearly falls apart at his touch, making you wonder how old it must be.
"Only if I can buy you one," you chuckle, pulling out some money from your jacket. He looks a bit stunned, never having heard such an offer before. Ladies in his time didn't buy men drinks, as far as he knew anyway. Ladies didn't really talk to him back then, so he couldn't be sure.
But your generosity and charm have thoroughly intrigued him, and he can't help but accept.
You hail the bartender, and he returns with his phone number in hand. However, his expression plummets when he spots you talking to the godly wonder that is Steve Rogers.
"What can I get for you?," he questions, eyeballing your gentleman caller. Steve, on Cloud Nine, does not bother to address his hostility. Based on the wallet observation, you figure that Steve is a lover of classic things, so you elect to order him a classic drink.
"How about a Hemingway?"
Steve looks to you with wide eyes and an amazed smile. "That's...my favorite."
You grin happily, then pass the bartender, who is seething with jealousy, another twenty to confirm your order.
"Right away..," he grumbles.
"What would you like, ma'am?," Steve asks with the politest, most smitten smile you've ever seen.
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"Um..," you blush under his gaze, "How about a French 75?"
"Of course!," Steve speaks with adorable enthusiasm and hands the bartender some money as well. He doesn't even count it, not wanting to take his eyes off of you for too long.
The bartender sighs, the sting of defeat igniting in his chest as he leaves to make the drinks.
Guess Mr. Rogers is a better flirt than he thinks...
