Steve Rogers Imagines

Toothbrush.

She takes another sip of her wine (why had she chosen wine to drink tonight?) and nods her head. "Alright."

She can hardly believe herself. It isn't that she's being hard on herself. She knows she's an interesting, good person. It's just that she doesn't think she's interesting enough for Chris Evans. She'd be lying if she said he wasn't just a bit intimidating. But his smile is so... intoxicating and welcoming and damn, she doesn't know what he wants from her tonight but she does know she's willing to give it to him.

So she follows him, ducking through the crowd and avoiding the drunk, dancing people. He reaches behind him and takes her hand, and she's almost a bit surprised at how quickly she allows herself to interlock her fingers with his. The act is so subtle, so innocent, and yet so incredibly empowering for her. Why is Chris Evans linking his fingers with her? She doesn't know, but god, does she want to find out.

They arrive outside on a small, exquisite porch looking over the city. Not many people are out here, which is nice. Her ears are ringing with the silence; a stark contrast to the constant hum of people inside. Though the bass still pounds inside (so loudly she can still feel it in her chest), it's much more peaceful out here. Chris pulls her over to the edge of the porch where a little wooden railing is. He leans against it and smiles. "Have you got enough of your drink left?"

She smiles. He hardly knows her and he already wants to get her a drink. She raises her wine glass to show him that, yes, she does have a bit of her drink left. He nods. "Good."

There's a moment of silence, and for whatever reason, it isn't awkward. They both bring their glasses to their lips. Chris sips something a dark brownish colour, and she wants to ask him what it is before he cuts her off. "Are you a fan?"

She's taken aback by his question. Is he asking because he wants to make fun of her? Is he going to be put off if she says yes? She laughs a bit at the suddenness of his question, and decides to play it cool. "Why, is it obvious?"

He smiles, enjoying how down to earth she's appearing. "Maybe it's just wishful thinking on my part. But you stuttered a bit and blushed a lot during our interview. And I thought you might be. But upon further investigation, you're much harder to read than I'd anticipated."

"Investigation?" She's praying that her cheeks aren't red, but she knows they are. She hopes he thinks it's due to the wine.

"Well I've been watching you tonight. I hope you don't think I'm like... creepy or something. But my friend dragged me here tonight and I..." He chuckles. "I don't know anyone here. Seemed like you were alone. And you were a familiar face." He swallows, allowing the tension to hang in the air but not missing a beat when he adds, "Sorry if I interrupted anything."

"You didn't," she says, almost too quickly." She takes another sip of her wine, hoping it'll give her some courage, before speaking again. "You really didn't. My friend dragged me here, too. But listen, if you're wanting me to do another interview to promote your movie or something like that..." she shrugs. "I'm off the clock."

He giggles– actually giggles, and the sound warms her heart immensely. "No," he says. "GOD no. Please. I need a break from all that. Doing interview after interview about the same shit... it's exhausting." She cocks her head a bit and, before she has a moment to say anything, he speaks again. "Not that I don't love my movies. It's really going to be big I think. It's just... god, I'm more than all that, aren't I?"

She doesn't say anything, and he lets out a sigh. "M'sorry. I shouldn't be dumping that on you." He chuckles, holding up his glass. "Maybe this's getting to me a bit more than I thought, mm? Sorry."