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

The Best Mistake of My Life - soulmate AU - Pt. 1/7

So you went to explain.

"Uhm... I'm really sorry, mister-" You quickly eyed the name on the ID he had given you, checking if the office got that thing right at least. "-Rogers, but there seems to be a typo in... in your birth date. I apologize for the mistake our institution made, even though I wasn't the one to-- you don't need to know that, it doesn't matter-- I'm so sorry you have to come here again, but I can't really let you walk around or rather drive around with a licence claiming you were born in 1918, so..."

You had become so flustered, your cheeks burning, talking and talking without being able to stop, not making any sense even, until-

"But I really am 95," he admitted sheepishly and you wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, when something in your brain clicked.

The click was about as loud as an atomic bomb falling on Hiroshima. You were sure everyone had to hear it.

It shut you up immediately. Your whole body froze, your mind buzzing uselessly, not a single thought staying long enough for you to actually understand it. Until two words got stuck, shining in red letters like a neon sign in your brain.

Holy. Shit.

"Excuse me," you squeaked, grabbing his useless licence and mechanically rising from your seat, walking away.

The moment no one could see you as you got into a hallway, you broke into a run. You acted on instinct. You ran and you ended up in front of Ryan's office, stumbling in without knocking and without an atom of oxygen left in your lungs.

Ryan's neatly combed hair swayed as he snapped his head to the door, his eyes strict until they took the newcomer - hint: you - in, widening instantly.

He quickly jumped to his feet, pacing to you.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked, voice filled with worries.

You weren't able to answer, because-holy shit. Your eyes frantically scanned the room, unable to meet your friend's gaze. "I-- I-"

A hand landed on your shoulder, your eyes immediately falling on it on instinct. Shit, you couldn't breathe. Could you?

Ryan's free hand found you chin, tilting your head so you faced him. "Hey, baby, look at me! What happened? Was someone too much of an asshole to you?"

"I'm not-- he's-"

Ryan's face screamed concern, but he had fixed it in a second, soothing smile on his lips. He led you to his sofa, the calming blue cushions enveloping you.

"Sit down on your ass and gimme that," he maneuverer the document off the steely grip of your fingers, sitting next to you as he looked it over. "Huh, quite a looker this guy. So what did he do?"

"I-the- the licence says he was born in---in 1918," you stammered, finally able to breathe in properly and speak.

Ryan squinted at the date and then rolled his eyes.

"Oh jeez, again? Why is it so hard to just get it right? I swear I'm gonna have to fire Sheryl, she's a disaster. What's wrong with her? It's not like they would be making a licence for someone that old! There's a photo goddammit!"

"Ry-Ry... he said he was 95."

Another eye-roll was his answer. "Yeah, I can count. He would have been if he was born in 1918 instead of 1981."

"No, you don't-" you licked your lips and swallowed against the lump that grew in your throat. Your voice was as shake as your hands. "He just told me that. That he really was 95."