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

Nothing but the Truth - Pt.5/8

-.-.-

Contrary to what you thought when learning you'd talk fake relationships with Irma in the evening, the day actually passed in a blur; a very exhausting blur filled with work, with a highlight of the lunch with Steve and Sam. You only attracted a few more glances than usual, people discouraged by the two Avengers glaring at them if they lingered with their eyes for too long. At the same time, Sam served as a mediator for you and Steve, keeping the conversation light and off potentially dangerous topics like kissing, so that was... nice.

Naturally, you thought the night would turn out nice as well. Which... it did? Kinda...? The alcohol helped.

Irma, the amazing friend she was, got you tipsy first, listened patiently and then proceeded to tell you that you were in some deep shit, totally screwed – or not screwed at all, to be precise – and that it would blow up to your face, because you could be terrible at communicating and voicing your feelings, which was why you were in this situation in the first place, because otherwise you and Steve already would have been a couple, you could have, if you just opened your damn mouth and told Steve how you felt weeks ago, after which he would have kissed you and screwed you against a wall or something, because eye-fucking, duh, I keep telling you that.

You had a wonderful girl-friend. Was it too late to call Sam?

But in the end, confiding Irma in felt really good and overall, it was a great night.

You should have known something was going shit all over it.

As tipsy as you were, you and Irma agreed to take a walk rather than call a cab, saving money and reducing the danger of throwing up.

What an idiotic idea since you lived over twenty blocks from each other!

The moment her door clicked shut behind her, you snuggled up into your coat and started walking; at much faster pace than before. Not that it was easy in the heels, because of course you were wearing heels; it was girls' night and you wanted to feel pretty and you hadn't anticipated walking a long distance in them.

Silly you.

Feeling the pleasant buzz of alcohol which had been warming you up before vanish, you shivered, looking over your shoulder when a particularly loud guy from a group of drunks by the near-by bar yelled how much he loved America.

You could relate, partly at least, by one half to be precise, because after your heart-to-heart with Irma, you were pretty certain you were at least a tiny bit in love with its infamous Captain, but who cared. You didn't feel drunk anymore and other drunk people scared you.

Hell, everything seemed frightening to you now for some inexplicable reason, especially since another guy from the group catcalled you as he noticed you turning around to glance at them. You quickly whipped your head back and quickened your pace.

Turning around the corner, you sighed in relief when you heard them start singing, apparently not too upset you disappeared from their view.

It was only about a minute later, when a shiver ran down your spine, a premonition of something dark, shady, chilling. Vaguely remembering that glancing over your shoulder and actually spotting the person whose eyes you felt following you might only encourage them, you kept glaring ahead, yet couldn't help but add to your tempo. Your feet were starting to hurt, but you didn't give a crap, feeling your heart jumping to your throat, beating wildly, your chest feeling tight.

You were confident enough that people didn't recognize you throughout the whole night at the bar, let alone identifying you as Cap's girl on the night New York street; everyone was much more focused on the fact that their beloved Captain liked it so he put a ring on it, rather than actually giving you a second glance, you were sure. And contrary to the popular belief, people – even of New York – had other things to live than for Avengers' romance.