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

Grease and Pearls - Pt. 1/3

"Looks like I'm not needed here," he grumbled and rose to his feet, patting his friend's shoulder. "Just remember, Stevie, boss' gonna kill ya' if you're more than half an hour late."

What did that mean?

"Noted," Stevie huffed a laugh and waved him off.

"Better get outta here sooner than later, can't run as fast as Maximoff-"

"Yeah, yeah-"

"I better heard that name in a compliment!" a female voice from the door with 'personnel only' behind the counter suddenly called out, once again starling you.

"Sure thing, Mrs.M! See ya'!" Buck shouted right back at her as he jogged to the door and you noticed that the woman behind the counter and Stevie weren't the only ones with their eyes on you, the realization making you shiver on the inside.

"You know what? Let's sit somewhere else, everyone's staring. You can check out the complete menu and the waitress will come to us," the blond offered, already standing up and beckoning to one of the booths.

You felt yourself relax, the ever-present smile on his lips assuring you he had no malicious intent – or you hoped so.

"Sure. Thank you."

You seated yourself opposite to him, hidden from the majority of the prying eyes as he pushed the menu your way.

"I honestly have no idea what most of this means," you admitted before even opening the menu, watching the relaxed aura around Stevie instead as he all but melted into the cushions. It bugged you in a way, seeing as his friend had made a certain remark earlier. "...no one is going to try and kill you, right? I would hate to-"

He barked a laugh, small wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes and your heart skipped a beat, mesmerized when you simultaneously noticed that his nose was dusted with freckles. He was such a handsome man and he radiated pure amusement as he laughed, simply and carefree. Despite being ashamed at being the source of his amusement, you marvelled at the fact you were the cause of the happy sound.

"Ya' think 'dat-- that here downtown, people get iced for being late for work? Is 'dat the bullshit they feed ya'?" You blinked at his words, unsure you understood his strange lingo. Stevie shook his head, the corner of his lips still twitching. "I meant killed. And nonsense, the nonsense they feed you."

"They mostly don't feed me anything about downtown and what life really is here..." you confessed with a sigh, spotting the woman from behind the counter making her way to you, red apron swinging a bit with her step.

"Good morning, almost afternoon! Oh, Steve, some dame you have here! Finally! Not sure we have enough fancy for her though," she greeted you enthusiastically, her speech ending with a slight thoughtful pout.

You swallowed the indignation at her assumption and smiled at her. "I... um, I don't need anything fancy, madam. At all, actually."

"You heard that? Madam! You keep this one close, Steve!"

"Hey! I'm polite!" the blond protested, a twinkle of humour in his eye. "Can we have the least fancy thing for the lady, then? And a strawberry milkshake? Ya' alright with strawberries? It's the best one..."

The woman, Mrs.M as Buck had called her, wrote down the order in her little notepad when you only nodded, dumb-struck when Stevie – Steve? – ordered for you. "Coming right up! You want anything else, Stevie?

"Just a refill, please?" he looked up pleadingly and the woman sighed, patting his head.

"You're addicted, hon, I feel sorry for your stomach. I'll bring the pot."