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

Hug It Out - Pt.3/4

He gave you his significant awkward wave, just like when he had been wordlessly saying you goodbye for the first time today and then the strange pair was gone.

You stood here dumbstruck for few more moments and then carefully pulled out the card that had been slipped under the hem of your jeans, curiosity getting the best to you.

You had to read what was written on it three times to make sure you weren't hallucinating. Your head snapped up, vainly trying to get a glimpse of the tall broad-shouldered figure or the redhead. You had no such luck.

You checked the card again, your mind racing. What the hell were you supposed to do with that information? What were you gonna do? That was insane! But... was it? It had to be the truth. It made a perfect sense, you had no doubt. You were rather ashamed you hadn't put the pieces together on your own. To be fair, the chances that would happen had been so low you couldn't blame your brain for not coming up with this possibility.

The question was... what now? What was your next move? Natasha sure gave you an option, but were you willing to take her upon that offer? You weren't certain it was a smart thing to do. Actually, you thought than it wasn't smart at all.

Then again... she gave you the card for a reason. She trusted you. Why? She had only met you. Why would she trust you? Why would she tell you these things?

No, seriously, why? God, such a mess, just because of a free hugs campaign...

You suddenly felt like you needed a free hug. Nice, warm, comforting and firm embrace, preferably delivered by a large man who would hide you from the world and tell you everything was okay and you should roll with whatever this was. Just a really, really nice hug.

We all have those moments, right?

---

You couldn't believe you were actually doing it. You stood in front of the Y.S.O.P Enterprise , fancy tall skyscraper, all glass and steel building belonging to the computer security company that claimed that Your Security was Their (Our) Priority, and you were biting your lip, still debating yourself whether you should come in.

A laugh escaped you when you realized how ironic the name of the company was. You weren't exactly brought up to speed, but Natasha had confirmed your suspicion about Steve being... military. The doodle certainly was enough of a hint. You could put two and two together easily, but that was probably Natasha's goal. You weren't sure why, what her motivation was, however you didn't think too hard about it.

Instead, you took a deep breath and decided that after the several days lasting dilemma and after you had come all this way, you may as well continue.

You walked through the revolving door, soon welcomed by gentle unobtrusive music, respectable woman watching you from behind the reception desk with a professional smile.

"Y.S.O.P Enterprise, how can I help you?"

Jeez, her smile was so artificial you wondered whether her face just froze that way. Was she a spy too? Because she was playing the role of annoyingly perfect receptionist simply perfectly (no disrespect towards the receptionists, alright, tough job they had).

"Uhm... yes. I'm... I'm here to see Mr. Rogers?" you stuttered nervously, shifting your weight.

If the woman was surprised, she didn't let it show.

"Of course. Concerning what matter?"

You gulped. There came your moment. Your line was written on the paper you received from the redhead, apart from other things. Just don't mess it up.

And don't laugh.

"He borrowed my Walkman. I want it back."

This time, the woman's eyes widened, apparently being that shocked. God, you hoped it wasn't some password that would get you killed on spot. That would be incredibly mean of Natasha.

You held your breath as you were staring at each other for long seconds. Or was it minutes? It felt like minutes. Then, she shook her head with a polite smile.

"Of course. Why don't you go this way and take the second elevator on the left? Here, the card will provide you excess to anywhere you need. His office is on the nineteenth floor, room 19.18. Have a good day," she wished you with the fake smile plastered on her face again and you fought a shiver as much as a giggle.

Was that... like another inside joke? The room number? Because unless it was a coincidence, they were taking it too far... poor Steve. You suspected it was an inside joke; you did your reading, actually finding out that a freaking exhibit in Smithsonian was about to be dedicated to him. So yeah, probably poor Steve.

You accepted the visitor's card and made you way following the instructions with a lump growing in your throat. How insane was this? When the door of the elevator closed, you didn't want to know the answer. Somehow, you felt like it was too late.

When the cabin started moving, you instinctively pressed your palm against the wall to maintain balance.

You were not ready for the motion. Mostly because despite pressing button 19, the elevator started going down.

Your heart leaped into your stomach and positively stopped beating.

Oh god. Oh god, what had you got yourself into?! Did you trust some crazy terrorists?! Or were you about to get killed by government for knowing who the friendly blond Steve truly was?

Your eyes desperately searched for an exit from the walls that seemed to shrink around you, your breathing picking up.

You couldn't find an escape route.

You were so fucking fucked . You were gonna die-

The elevator stopped and you suddenly didn't know whether you should get to the door to run as fast as you could or try to merge with the walls. Before you could make a decision, the door opened.

A wide and seemingly endless corridor illuminated by clinically fluorescent lamps spread in front of you. With your chest still heaving, heartbeat hammering in your ears, you took hesitant step forward. Then another one. You exited the elevator.

Its door immediately closed and the cabin started climbing again.

Now you were screwed. There was only one way to go – forward. Always forward. Well. The corridor was stark, nothing fancy for sure, but when you adjusted your eyes to the bright lights, you realized there were two moving walkways, similar to those placed at airports. Huh. Okay. You definitely felt the same nervousness as if you were about to fly far from home.

"Just like at an airport. No biggie..." you muttered under your breath.

The moment you laid your feet on the walkway, it started moving. You winced.

"Not creepy at all..."

You started walking on autopilot, figuring you might as well get this over with, secretly hoping you weren't marching right towards your death.

You really hoped you would get to live another day, alright. You were far too young to get murdered – either by terrorists or by secret government organisations or anyone else.

The walk felt like it lasted for hours.

When you finally reached the end of the corridor, finding another elevator, you just rolled with it and stepped right in, hoping that this time, it would actually go up despite not having any number for you to choose from.

It did. 

Notes:
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