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

Surprise Me - Pt.1/2

You clutched the screenplays – why did they even needed so many of them, it was one person speaking – closer to your chest and paced away.

If the money wasn't so good, you would have crumbled the papers up in balls and started throwing them right to Pratt's arrogant face. With your luck and aim, you might even hit him. Once.

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Twenty minutes later, you were about to stop at the place you left as the last, mostly because you were freaking nervous. You were surprised that with the tempo your heart was going, heat spreading all over your body, your palms weren't sweaty enough for the papers to get stuck to your hands. With a loud gulp, you knocked on Captain Rogers van's door.

Only not to get a response. You frowned and knocked again, half annoyed at the idea of chasing him all over the site, half horrified that he was actually in and you would be disturbing him from... yeah, you had no idea what. What was a superhero doing when catching a break? Sit-ups? Chin-ups? Or getting his beauty sleep? Or getting sweaty in a completely—no, nope, do not even go there....

When you were only met with silence, you carefully tried to twist the handle – the door opened easily and you stopped yourself from stepping inside before you could embarrass yourself by walking on him doing whatever.

"Captain Rogers?" you called out silently, prying you weren't intruding. "I'm sorry to interrupt your personal time, I'm just here with the screenplays."

You set a foot inside his van, peeking in, only to find him by a table, closing a little book. The upper part of his get-up was unzipped, crumbled and yet strangely tented around his waist, revealing a simple white tank top you didn't see too often these days – but hell, did it accentuate his huge muscular arms, making you want to touch them just to know they were real.

You blushed furiously when you realized you were staring, hastily walking in without permission, which was incredibly rude. When you realized that, you just wished for the Earth to swallow you.

But he gave you a small smile. Mentally, you sighed in relief – he didn't seem bothered by your presence or inappropriate behaviour; though he did look tired to put it mildly.

You handed him the papers with another gulp and silent 'here.'

"Thank you."

You winced a little at the strange feeling his voice sent through your body, bucking into the table he was at. It rattled a little, which caused the thin small book fall pages down, a pencil landing right next to it.

"Goddammit— I'm sorry," you blurted out, quickly crouching and reaching for it.

"It's okay, I'll-" he said at the same time, extending his hand to get it as well.

Too bad; you were faster. You turned the book pages up to examine the damage; but, boy, you were not ready for what you saw.

Your breath hitched at the sight; you couldn't tear your eyes away. It was perfect. Every line, even when drawn around the shapes, seemed to have a purpose. The details were amazing, the hatching brining the image to life, making your lips part in amazement.

The message was a bit bitter you guessed – alright, a lot – but the drawing was still fascinating. It was a picture of a monkey balancing on unicycle, caring an umbrella in one hand, an unmistakeable shield with a star in its middle in its other hand. Not to leave any doubts, the monkey was definitely wearing Captain's gear.

Your fingers automatically traced the star on the middle of monkey's chest, immediately retreating when it hit you the action might harm the drawing. Your gaze rose to the author and you wordlessly handed him the sketchbook, yourself standing upright.