Lessons in Rule Breaking and Other Reader-Inserts*Steve Rogers*Reader*

No Apologies Needed - Pt.1/4

He must have come to a certain conclusions hearing your strangled voice, because his gaze softened, allowing you to breathe in properly.

"I'm sorry for... throwing myself at you like this, Ma'am." Here it comes. Ma'am. I really should have called him 'Sir'. "I really am, I would never-"

You felt the tension building in your shoulders ease with the way he sounded; slightly embarrassed and... well, utterly adorable. This guy was a good guy, you decided. There was no way he was not on the side of the angels, not with the sincere apologetic eyes and the tone he spoke in.

Crazily enough – and you blamed the alcohol, really – it made you smile rather confidently.

"Hate to break it to you, but you did literally nothing that would require an apology."

Even with the poor light and the hood, you would swear his cheeks flushed with a little red. It was so cute you would cry. Putting a respectful distance between the two of you – and you did not feel sorry for the loss of contact, not at all, that would be weird –, he cleared his throat.

"I'm— at least... may I buy you a drink as an apology, Ma'am?"

The Ma'am thing again. Had he been raised in a freaking castle? Military, you dumbass, maybe he is military-

"Uhm... o-okay," you stuttered, completely forgetting you had decided to stop drinking for the night. It would be impolite to decline, right? Plus, after what just happened – or was still happening? – you could use a drink.

He gave you a bashful yet brilliant smile and your heart melted, your legs turning into an uncooperative mass of jello. Seeing your hesitation, he offered you a hand. It was an utterly sweet and chaste gesture – especially given how the two of you had been touching just few moments ago.

You found yourself staring at him as he led you to the bar. He seemed to grow now, holding himself like... well, like a military man, perhaps. The grey hoodie looked size too big around his middle, but was struggling in the higher area – his shoulders and arms were wrapped tightly and you could almost hear the fabric cry. His jeans were... wrapping his bottom pretty nicely, making your cheeks flush with the memory of touching it without any warning or permission. You quickly raised your eyes, afraid he might catch you staring if he turned to you unexpectedly.

Even when seating himself on a bar stool and catching the bartender's attention, he left the hood on. He only let go of your hand when you were both sitting and the man behind the bar approached you. You ordered another margarita while he had a scotch. He paid for you both of course.

His body was slightly directed to you, remaining somewhat polite, but his eyes were rather on his drink, not meeting yours; until they did.

You almost fell of the stool as you were surprised by gaze staring right into your soul.

"I truly am sorry for assaulting you, Ma'am. But I would like you to know I'm very grateful for your cooperation," he exclaimed, voice less measured than you would expect with the way he carried himself.

You felt burst of blood in your cheeks when he called the make-out session and your wandering hands a cooperation.

"It was no trouble... Sir."

You could see the corners of his lips rise as he offered you his hand again, this time obviously to shake yours.

"My name is Steve."

You accepted his hand, nodding, and sheepishly whispered your name back. You wanted to ask whom the hell he was running from, why he had picked you of all people around, who he was, but you couldn't make yourself to do it. Possibly because you were well-aware of the fact he wouldn't answer any of those questions.

Instead, you raised your glass, gesturing towards his. You had no idea what you should make a toast to, so you didn't say anything, just attempted a tiny smile. Steve reciprocated it and sipped his scotch, only to put down the glass down a second later.

He sighed then, sounding a bit irritated. You studied him carefully, wondering what you had done to cause the change in his mood. He made a subtle motion towards his neck and you noticed his fingertips brushing his ear.

Your heart skipped a beat before it broke into a gallop. Jesus, was he... was he wearing an earpiece? Comms? Was he actually... some kind of a spy?! What the-

"I'm sorry. I have to go."

"Oh," you only let out intelligently as he downed the glass in one go. Christ. He stood up hastily.

"Thank you-- thank you again for your help, Ma'am. It was nice to meet you," he said with a nervous smile and headed towards the exit abruptly.

He couldn't see the quick smile you gave him as you followed him with your stare.

"Was my pleasure..."

He was almost by the door when a redhead woman, also in a hood, only worn lower, wrapped her arm around his shoulder with a grin. Now you were taken aback utterly, possibly even more than earlier that evening. What the hell?! Was this his girlfriend? Or-?

Even from the distance, you could see Steve's lips mimicking a very clear 'shut up' at her and then the woman turned directly to you, met your eyes and gave you a playful wink.

You blushed harder and not just from alcohol. The strangest thing was that... the wink didn't scare you or made you feel guilty or something. The gesture wasn't saying 'that's my man, bitch', but more like a 'good job, sister, I hope you enjoyed'.

And then they were gone.

You hypnotized at the door long after they had left, your imagination running wild. For some reason, the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith came to your mind and you had to roll your eyes at the ridiculous picture of Steve and the woman being a married spy couple.

You returned to your drink and shook your head in silent wonder. The alcohol was starting to taste a bit funny on your tongue; just another indication it was time to finish your last drink and go home.

That was the plan anyway.

----Notes:
I'm sorry? I don't even know what this is. It'sjust... Steve and forced PDA :D I'm never getting over that scene in CA:WS. Ever.