You're hiding from your boss in a supply closet, minding your own business, when a stranger joins you unexpectedly. This is not a beginning of a steamy story; given the reason you're hanging out in the dark, even a make-out session is honestly the last thing you want to fantasize about right now.
But that doesn't mean that the nice stranger cannot make your day much better.
Warning: Mentions of sexual harassement. And lots of F-bombs.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
You were on the verge of screaming – or crying, you honestly weren't sure anymore. But you knew you were done. You had worked your fingers to a bone just to get here. To become a little bee in the most famous hive in Manhattan. Stark Industries. The Stark/Avengers Tower. The beacon of the New York skyline. The dream coming true.
Yeah, not so much.
You hadn't expect super-important assignments, after all, you were just an assistant to the head of one of too many departments, but God, you had not expected to be handing coffee so often. To be running ridiculous errands. Your degree from MIT should actually mean something here. If nothing else, than that you were not just some pretty face and that you fucking didn't deserve the treatment you were receiving. And that was the root of trouble, really. You could handle making your way up, it would be tiring but expected, it was pretty much what you had assigned for.
But you had not assigned for the sexist comments, disgusting innuendo and for the grabby hands of your sleazy boss. Thomas Gregory was a fucking nightmare of a boss and you swore that you were quitting if he called you a 'Dollface' or slapped your ass one more time.
And that was how you had got here, into this very moment, hiding in a dark supply closet like a creep with two cups of overpriced coffee in a cup holder and a piece of organic carob-nut muffin.
You weren't about to come out any time soon, because you simply knew your boss still would be a pig and give you yet another reason to hand in your notice and you had fucking wanted this job for so long, worked for it so hard and sacrificed too much that you just couldn't make yourself to quit no matter how much your whole skin cringed and your stomach rolled over every time Thomas Gregory touched you. It was so frustrating you wanted to scream.
Or cry, you still couldn't solve the dilemma.
You barely registered the hurried footsteps – and then the door was yanked open, you glimpsed a tall blond male figure and suddenly there was dark again. Except there was one more body in the very limited room of the closet, making you press your back onto the shelf.
Something rattled with your movement and the newcomer hissed a barely audible 'Be quiet' as two columns of muscles that were probably his arms framed your head leaning onto the very same shelf, so you could both fit in here. The little order leaving his lips broke the last seal inside you. You were tired, frustrated and were receiving enough humiliation as it was, you did not need some random guy invading your hideout, barking around orders.
"Look, mister, if you have any problem with me trying to make a little space for you in this tiny-ass closet, I recommend you to-"
"Shh!" he hushed you and you thought you had never heard someone whisper so urgently; at least it sounded less bossy than before. It did not mollify you though, because this guy actually had enough impudence to-
"Don't you dare to shush me-"
A hand went to cover your mouth and you let out an exasperated mumble of curses, while his voice continued.
"Please, just— I'm sorry, please, don't make a sound, my friend is trying to set me up and-"
Your eyes went wide and he suddenly fell silent. Before you could question his methods of shutting you up, his exclaim or the pause, and ask him to be so kind to find another closet, another male voice sounded somewhere behind the door.
"Come on, Steeeve. Man, don't be such a prude. Lillian is a great chic, okay?"
The friend seemed annoyed and you couldn't believe that Steve had not been kidding you. He was actually hiding for the very reason he had offered you. You nodded as you heard the stranger behind the door move and the hand covering your mouth hesitantly disappeared.
"It's just a lip piercing, don't be such a tight-ass. It can actually be quite fun, you wouldn't believe what a girl can do with such thing..."
"Gross," you commented soundlessly and you could feel your companion's eyes burning a hole into your head in silent agreement.
"Goddammit, Steve!"
The voice and the footsteps slowly disappeared in the distance and you... you were face to face with a stranger named Steve in a limited space of a dark supply closet, his breath tickling your scalp, his cologne very much assaulting your nose; at least it was a pleasant assault.
"I'm sorry for being so rude. And thank you," his voice caressed your hairline gently and hearing his suddenly polite tone and evaluating this whole situation, you could barely hold back a giggle all of sudden.
"You're welcome, Steve. How long has this been going on?"
"Two days-" That didn't sound too bad, he should take a lot more- "-at this level. With Lillian. It was Emily before that and Angelina before that. In smaller scale, it's been happening for about four months," he recited dutifully as if he was reporting a status to his boss and this time you couldn't help it – you giggled.
When you could feel the wounded gaze he gave you, you obediently made a sympathetic noise.
"Aww, poor you, your friend supplying you with no doubt great relationship material..."
"That's what he said! But I don't want a relationship material. I don't want any material, not even his... one-night stand material. What does that mean anyway? These are women he's talking about, not a material-"
You let out a tiny pleased sound at his exasperation, which shut him up. You wondered if it was your turn to speak – it was hard to tell, supply-closet conversations weren't exactly your area of expertise.
"Kudos for that thinking," you noted after short silence and the darker shadow of his figure tilted his head. "Did you try to tell him that you weren't interested...? Of course you did, why am I asking, that was a stupid question..."
"It's okay. I'm sorry, I got a little... carried away. It just... it's like talking to a brick wall."
You hummed in sympathy again and the room fell into silence once more.
It was ridiculous how much your mind started working over hundred percent, trying to come up with something appropriate to say. The best you could do was:
"Hey, you want a cup of overpriced organic coffee? I happen to have two."
The needy noise that let his lips was downright pornographic. Or maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, the strange environment finally getting to you.
"I knew I smelled coffee here. I thought I went completely insane."
You couldn't help but smile at that. Yeah, you knew the feeling all too well.
"Nope, your senses were not playing tricks on you. Help yourself. It should be around your left hand." A rustling of a paper bag. "Oh. That's a carob-nut muffin – with carob instead of cocoa. You can have that too, I won't need that."
"Alright, I gotta ask. Why are you hiding in a supply closet, with a muffin and two cups of expensive coffee nonetheless? And may I hand you one?"
"Such a gentleman. Thanks," you murmured and accepted the cup. You weren't lying about not needing it – you wouldn't. Because you were about to quit; itwas inevitable.
You sipped the warm liquid, its taste as bitter as the reason behind your actions.
"So?"
"I'm hiding from my boss."
Your voice must have sounded terrible, because his own softened at the confession.
"And why is that?"
"Because if I bring him his coffee and muffin, he'll probably call me his good girl and— and slap my butt and-"
"I beg your pardon?" he growled, like honest to God growled, the strange sound warming your scalp.
And it was the righteous outrage in the sound he let out, the reaction that you needed, someone agreeing with you – a stranger, who wouldn't feel obliged to do so just it was an obligation of being a good friend to you – that made the levee break. Suddenly tears were strolling down your face, anger and humiliation, and your breath was hitching in embarrassing hiccups and the dark space felt so anonymous and safe at the same time that you didn't even care anymore.
"And if he does that I'll have to– to quit, because I-I'm so fucking fed up with his dis-disgusting hands and si-sickening voice venting his lizard thoughts a-and I ca-can't quit goddammit, I worked so fucking hard to-to get a job h-here and-"
You didn't realise your hands started trembling until the cup disappeared from them, placed back on the shelf, and a pair of much bigger and warmer hands gently enveloped yours, his body shifting just a little closer as he lost the support that had been keeping some distance between you.
"Hey, hey, shh, it's gonna be okay..." his voice washed over you soothingly, sounding almost at your ear.
Still, there was a space between your bodies, a respectable distance – as respectable as possible in the limited space. It was as if he acknowledged it could make you uncomfortable – which probably wasn't that hard to figure out, given what you just told him.
"I'm sorry," you sobbed and cleared your throat afterwards in attempt to compose yourself. "I didn't mean to load that on you, my problems are none of your concern-"
"Like hell they aren't. Sexual harassment on a workplace is everyone's concern, or it should be," he grunted. His hands tightened their grip, not uncomfortably – reassuring. "This okay?"
You smiled through your tears. This Steve guy was really sweet to you. You almost forgot what it was like to be treated with respect.
"Y-yeah. Thank you for-- for asking. That was really nice."
He huffed. "It should be a normal human decency. And I did grab you before that, sorry."
"Something tells me you would let go if I said no."
"Of course I would."
You gave him a watery smile he couldn't see and tried to calm your breathing completely. His thumb caressing your wrist helped. You wondered which department he was from, if his skills in comforting came with a job description or if he was a natural.
"Have you... have you tried to fill in a report?" he asked hesitantly, making your heart stop.
Oh yeah, you had. It had ended up in a shredder machine, because Thomas had spotted it. He had made you do it yourself, standing over you and watching, claiming the complaint had been baseless and it would pointless to hand it anyway, because he would explain the HR how it truly had been. That you had made a move and he, the good father and husband he had been, had politely turned you down, which had turned you vengeful.
You whispered the story to Steve, your voice trembling, more tears escaping and you could immediately tell he believed you – because his grip grew steely strong, his teeth grinding.
"This is wrong. You should have never been forced to work for a man like him– objectifying you, touching you, threatening you, that's just-- you should talk to Tony," he blurted out in the end and you frowned.
"Who's Tony?"
You had checked the whole HR department via their website when doing your research. You couldn't recall any Tony.
There was a short pause, broken by Steve's confused voice. "Stark."
You blinked, wondering if Steve was joking. He didn't sound like he was joking, which was strange, because so far, he had seemed to be a smart and reasonable man.
"There's no way I'm scoring a meeting with Mr. Stark. And it's not like he's dealing with things like that."
"...Talk to Pepper then. I doubt she has bigger than zero tolerance for harassment," he exclaimed confidently as if talking to Pepper Potts (this time you assumed whom he was talking about – did he call all of the big bosses their first name...?) was an option for a regular human being like you. Realizing that all over again though, that was tough.
"While I believe that's her policy, it's not like I can just walk into her office."
Steve seemed to consider that, while his thumb was still drawing patterns on your skin, almost subconsciously.
"I think you could. But if you're worried it might take a while and you're scared to go back to your office now, let me walk you. I can explain him that every employee deserves to be treated with respect," he offered finally, deadly serious, yet still sounding kind.
Your heart swelled. A guy whom you just met (in a supply closet, a good story to be narrated at parties, you supposed), suggested to help you out, no hesitation. God, wasn't he just too pure for this world?
"I... thank you, Steve. But... while you do have an impressive frame, I think it would only get worse. I think I'll just enjoy this extremely hipster coffee, which I'll later have to pay for no doubt and... and go face my boss to hand him my resignation. There are plenty jobs, right? I can as well serve coffee in a café," you said with a sad smile, letting your hands slip from his comfortable hold.
"That's not right. Especially if you worked hard to– not to mention it's a matter of principle. You run away once and... running is a very hard habit to break," he whispered as a secret, trying to reason with you.
You bit your lip when the truth of his words washed over you, along with the way he spoke; with such a strong believe in principles that should stand a standard. It... he made you forgot your own trouble for a second as you let yourself get lost in him. In the way he treated you, the protector's persona, yet not forced. He had suggested you to 'let him come with you', not even a note of command in his approach. This was not a man seeing an opportunity to be a hero when spotting the damsel in distress; this was a man who believed in what was right and wanted to fix things that were apparently broken. You wished there were more men like him, selfishly wanting one of them to be your boss.
"And men like these – they need to be put in line," he added darkly, snapping you from your daydreaming of a better world. "Let me come with you. I'll—I'll help you fill in the forms, walk you to HR. You don't have to deal with this alone."
For all the comfort the dark had offered you so far, you wished for a little bit more light now, enough to see his face, his eyes. You knew they would be burning with honesty, you were sure of it, maybe a little rage aimed at a man who dared to treat another human being the way he did.
The offer was so tempting. But just imagining the security escorting Steve from the building for wanting to help you was enough to put out the fiery need to accept. It was ridiculous to care so much about his well-being after what could be minutes of knowing him, but no one could call you out on it. And if they did, you could always play it cool with 'matter of principles'; good people only deserved good things.
You carefully reached out, hoping to find his hand again. Your heart skipped a beat when you brushed his thigh instead, but at least his hand was right next to it. He released a surprised breath when you took it into yours, way smaller one. You bit your lip when leaning in a little, blindly trying to meet his gaze.
"You're a good man, Steve. I'm sorry your friend is giving you a hard time, you don't deserve that – even though I'm sure he means well. If you ever want to get him off your back..." you wavered at the ridiculous idea, but hey, why the hell not, he had offered to help you out first, "you can say you're seeing someone. Give him my card. I'll confirm we're together – he seems like a kind of a guy who would check."
He let out a surprised breathless laugh and you assumed you hit the nail on the head. You fished out one of your business cards, handing it to him and releasing his hand then.
It was time to leave and face your fate, but Steve didn't make any attempt at moving out of the closet.
In fact, he seemed to examine it for a while and then read out your name quietly. You gasped, shocked. How the hell could he see anything? You could barely make out his silhouette!
"How-"
"I'm used to working in dark spaces," he muttered absently. "Would you really do that?"
Slightly surprised he was considering your offer, you nodded, only to realize he couldn't see it– actually, he probably could.
"I would. Hell, I think I could handle one uncomfortable dinner with your friend vetting me," you added, slightly amused at the idea.
You could hear his shocked exhale and wanted to take it back. "I didn't mean to-"
"Let me come with you to your office," he repeated like a broken record and you frowned at the sudden change of topic.
"What-"
"It could throw your boss off of your back for long enough for you to deal with the complaint. If you would be comfortable enough to play my girlfriend for a dinner time, why not now?"
Your eyes went wide and you almost choked on air.
"I-what? I told you it would probably only make it worse-"
"It will work."
"How can you be so-"
The door yanked open and your eyes were hit by an unpleasantly sharp light, making you squint.
"Holy-" a ridiculously familiar voice you couldn't place breathed out. "Wilson! I found him! You've gotta see this!"
You wanted to see the owner of the voice, but your view was completely blocked by the broad chest of your companion.
You at least raised your head to meet Steve face to face, so to speak. You couldn't see much, your eyes still adjusting; with the light shining from behind him, playing a mysterious game with his blond locks, framing his impressive figure, he looked like a freaking angel, beautiful and righteous, bringing justice, yet enwrapped in an aura of peace and serenity. You barely kept your jaw from falling on the floor.
You kept staring, focusing on his face, and slowly started realizing that his features too, were familiar. Mortification was creeping up your back as the puzzle pieces started falling into place, creating a horrifying picture, making you wish for the Earth to swallow you.
The voice from behind Steve's back resolved the last doubts you had about your temporary mysterious roommate.
"Wouldn't peg you as a sex-in-a-closet kind of guy, Capsicle."
You wanted to immediately protest that you had definitely not been having sex in the closet, but your brain was still frozen because of the big revelation – that you had just been comforted, hell, that you had just offered to be a fake date to Captain America.
You simply started at him, not being able to hold your jaw from falling anymore. Because– because-- oh god.
Now it made perfect sense that he thought Thomas Gregory would be intimidated... by the idea of harassing Captain America's girlfriend. You couldn't really blame Steve for being sure it would work. Also, it kinda explained why he called Mr. Stark or Ms. Potts their first name – they were on the first name basis.
Which really was the least relevant thing right now.
A bashful smile appeared on Steve's lips, a little guilty perhaps, and you just... giggled at the absurdity. You couldn't help it. You had just spent minutes in a supply closet with Steve Rogers without having a single clue about it and while you hadn't done anything heated as someone would assume, it was one of the most amazing minutes of your life.
You must have looked like an idiot or something, because he chuckled too, completely ignoring another male voice arriving.
"Holy hell, Man! I can't believe what I'm seeing!"
At those words, Steve tentatively took your hand with an encouraging smile and led you out to the hall. You were met with two pairs of curious eyes examining you from head to toe. You lowered your gaze, now fully aware of the fact they belonged to Tony Stark – the Iron Man – and Samuel Wilson – The Falcon.
Well. Now the party story finally got the right juice.
"Then don't, Sam, because it's not what it looks like," Steve replied to his match-maker friend and took a deep breath, squeezing your hand tighter. "Tony, this woman would like to report harassment on her workplace."
Your head snapped to Steve's face with panicked gaze. What the hell was he doing?!
Tony Stark made a noise of disapproval.
"Couldn't you try harder so she wouldn't complain about you?"
"Tony," Steve addressed him, his voice solemn just like his expression, which surprised the billionaire. "I'm serious. It's not about me. Her boss is the reason why she was hiding here."
Without commenting any further, Steve handed him your business card and Mr. Stark hummed. You weren't brave enough to look up. Was he going to wave it off? Was he going to fire you?
He said your name, making you gulp in fright. You had to look up now; you were shocked to meet with a searching gaze, but not a mean one.
"It is true? Is your boss giving you trouble? Making sexist comments? Worse?"
You felt tears in your eyes, utterly taken aback by his sensitive tone, the inviting light in his eyes. It was too much to bear and you wanted to escape the kind gaze; he wouldn't let you. You only managed to nod when you felt Steve's thumb caressing the back of your hand.
Mr. Stark sighed, adding a dark 'goddammit', and returned Steve the business card.
"Alright, kids. Let's have a trip."
And you just stared.
...what?