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

Nothing but the Truth - Pt.5/8

Yeah? How about I tell you that I think I love you? What would you say to that? Can I tell you that? Because I really want to, especially when you're using that stupid, stupid petname-

"...but I understand. It's your call. If you trust her, you can tell her."

There were literally no limits to Steve's kindness, you were sure of it. You truly were doomed, weren't you? How could you not love him?

"Thank you, Steve. I... really appreciate it. I... I trust you too, you know?" you whispered, momentarily forgetting he wasn't the only one hearing you.

You could imagine the subtle lift of the corners of his lips – lips that kissed you yesterday, oh dear God, lips you dreamed of –, the gentle light in his eyes, yet with a tiny cocky spark in the irises... you could picture all of that only by hearing the tone of his voice when he answered.

"I hope so. You're doing alright after yesterday?"

No. "Y-yeah. You?"

He sighed tiredly. "Work is work is work and the PR is sending me e-mails that are basically just streak of curses – I'm learning new words today –, because their phones won't stop ringing. I'm fine."

You chuckled, imagining Steve's eyes widening and his cheeks flushing at every new swearword, probably a new term for a manhood.

"Aww, you poor baby," you cooed, your lips automatically curving in a smile. "Do you want me to beat them up for you?"

"God, no!" he blurted out, sounding almost as if he panicked at the image of you trying to sock the employees of personal relations in their jaw. Whether his horror was caused by the fear for them or you, you'd never know. He chuckled then. "Thanks for the offer though."

Someone tugged at your skirt and you realized that you were, in fact, not alone in the room.

"Anytime, Steve. Gotta go back to work now. Stay strong?"

"I'll try. Same to you. See you for lunch?"

You grinned. "Yep. Sam already told me he will be our bodyguard. Brave man," you teased Steve and you could practically see him rolling his eyes.

"Brave man," he mimicked, as if jealous. "He sure is. See you then. Have a nice morning."

Was it a hobby of his to cause your heart to burst with his insufferably gentle voice or something?

"You too, Steve. Bye."

"You two are honesty disgusting. If I wasn't so happy for you, I might puke. And did you just ask your boyfriend for permission to tell me? Really?!" Irma instantly chimed in and you shot her a look to cool her down.

"Yes. I told you: it's classified," you deadpanned. "I'll tell, but not now, not here. Girls' night?"

She pumped her fists in victory gesture and you sighed, mentally preparing for an interrogation. You had to go somewhere where they had no desk-lamps; she would aim it to your face for dramatic effect, you were sure of it. You couldn't believe she was almost five years older than you sometimes.

"I thought you'll never ask, future Mrs. Rogers."

You grabbed the nearest paper, hoping it wasn't important, and scrunched it up. With your perfect toss, it hit her square to the middle of her head as she unwisely turned her back to you.

She snorted in laughter, but let you breathe for the rest of the workday.

The evening couldn't come fast enough.