Warnings: swearing, mention of porn, awkward conversations, brief panic, the briefest mention of a kink... and that's it I think?
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Never in your life you had called finals a blessing. The end of semester always meant eating crappier than usual, at the strangest times too, lacking sleep, overdosing on caffeine, people being in a foul mood and praying to whatever gods that came to mind to pass every exam in a forget-the-grades- just-let-me-pass style.
This year however, finals and the mess that came with them was exactly what you needed to get your mind off of your epically embarrassing error. The load of studying left you so nervous you didn't even realize that your one of your tests was with Professor Barnes; once you finished writing and the paper disappeared from your sight, your hands automatically gathering your things, your steps leading you out of the auditorium, you nearly stumbled over your feet when you met Barnes' smirk. But he didn't give you any special treatment, promising to let you all know your grades via an e-mail and the incident was once again completely forgotten as you returned to the mad pit of exams time.
Two days later – Friday, which you only knew because it was your last test altogether and you simply couldn't wait to fall into your bed and sleep for a week –, you left the class and felt the tide wave of freedom wash over you. You were still to learn some of your marks, but you were surprisingly confident that you passed everything.
You inhaled deeply, just standing in the empty corridor and smelling freedom, feeling your shoulders relaxing, the long-lasting tension in them finally subduing a bit.
"Done with everything?" a male voice startled you and you honest to god yelped and jumped few inches above the floor, your hand shooting up to your chest in fright, your heart missing a beat or two.
Your eyes snapped open at the intrusion you never heard coming, but you didn't need to see to know who spoke. That voice starred your sweetest dreams – and after the incident, your nightmares too.
A tiny smile played on his lips, his brows creased a fraction, beautiful blue eyes apologetic.
"I'm sorry. That was inconsiderate of me. I didn't mean to startle you," Professor Rogers offered his apology along with a smile that seemed almost sheepish.
Your heart was on its way out of your chest, heat already rising to your cheeks. Just seeing him was enough to make you hot all over, but for once, you had a hard time identifying whether it was because of your embarrassment or the fact he was no less handsome and friggin' hot than usual.
You clenched your fists, fingers fumbling nervously even in that position.
What were you supposed to say? Why did he even stop to chat with you? Was he about to confront you? Had he read the... thing you wrote? Would he laugh at you? Not likely. Would he report you or something? Well, so far he haven't. Maybe it was a coincidence and he was simply being nice since he ran into you in an empty hallway?
Yeah, not likely.
"It's... it's nothing," you finally stuttered out, your hands moving to play with the straps of your backpack instead, your gaze avoiding his, because how could you even look him in the eye ever again if he had read it? God, what he must have been thinking about you-
You cleared your throat awkwardly, forcing yourself to focus on literally anything else. He asked you a question, right?
"Yeah, I'm done. Thank you for asking...?"
Was it just your imagination or did he seem nervous too? He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, arms crossing on his chest.
It was impossible to ignore the way his biceps bulged in that stupid dark blue shirt of his that was a size too small and you felt your face catch fire as you instinctively ogled him because Jesus Christ, when you are posted in front of an art piece, you do not look the other way.
"Good, good," he rumbled, his voice just a little deeper than usual, causing your abdomen to clench despite the awkwardness. Really? Aroused? Now? After everything? You never learn, huh?
When your gaze flickered to his face at the uncomfortable silence that followed and his lips parted as if he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how, you simply knew.
Your feet shifted an inch as the instinct to run overtook your brain. Your palms turned impossibly sweaty, your pulse skyrocketed, breath catching in your throat, your world swaying for few moments. Every inch of you was set aflame, this time definitely in embarrassment.
"You read it," you stated the obvious, eyes glued to the floor as if you were saying it to it rather than him.
Him being Professor Rogers. Whose name you had typed out in your story, because your brain was a mess and even in your fantasyland, you had slipped once as you imagined him in the place of Professor 'Roberts'.
How stupid was that?
"...yes," he replied simply, as if he wasn't confirming your worst fears, turning your nightmares into reality.
You covered your face with your palms, hiding from his sight as you felt tears of humiliation gathering in your eyes, burning as much as the rest of your face.
"I'm sorry," you mumbled into your hands and deliberately stumbled backwards in search for the wall, needing something to lean onto as your knees felt like giving out. Darkness embraced the edge of your vision even with your eyes closed, your chest growing unbearably heavy, your stomach twisting.
Knowing Professor Barnes read your thirsty fantasy was one thing. That was... uncomfortable and incredibly embarrassing.
But Professor Rogers reading it? Well, fuck me up, shit just became real. And very serious. Barnes could make fun of you. Rogers could smite you. He could probably have you kicked out from university for real.
Jesus fucking Christ, he had read it. What was he going to do about it?!
"Hey-- hey! Breathe!" a voice urged you, a brief squeeze of your forearm quickly disappearing when you winced at the sudden contact.
In any other situation, you might burst with excitement that he was touching you. Now? Not really, no.
"Breathe." Instinctively, you listened to his voice over the intrusive hum in your ears, realizing you had in fact had been holding your breath, which caused the world spin some more. "In and out. You're fine. Nothing is going to happen. I promise. No hard feelings."
A chocked sound left your lips at the 'hard'. And really, how much would it take to pull your mind out of the gutter?! If this didn't do it, what would?
"Look at me. You're alright. I'm... flattered if anything," he added then and you shrieked, unable to hide your shock.
He did not just say that, did he?!
"For what it's worth, I think the writing style was really good too."
You didn't even know how to describe the sound you let out at that. Was he for real now? Was he trying to torture you? Could the floor please swallow you at last?
"I wouldn't even bring it up, but since you already have... I want to apologize."
That did make you look at him, your world steadying at instant, the dam breaking and releasing few solitary tears you didn't bother wiping away, too shocked by what you were hearing.
"You are sorry?" you asked incredulously, clearing your throat of the lump that had grown there at some point.
He was sorry? What the fuck was he being sorry for?! For being so damn attractive that your mind couldn't but admire him even now as he was partly leaned into your personal space, watching you closely, green pools of regret glimmering in his blue eyes.
One corner of his lips lifted in a barely visible lopsided smile as if he was happy that he finally got you to look at him again. That smile of his... would he have dimples if it hadn't been for the beard? Because he already had few freckles dusting his nose and cheeks and it was the cutest thing you had ever seen on a man that was already so damn fuckable you felt the need to write a story about it. You could write about his stupidly beautiful face and sweet smile alone-
Just—stop that train of thought right there, you dumbass, really not the time, look where it got you the last time.
"Yes, I am sorry," he repeated, his gaze roaming all over you, checking if you stopped panicking. Why did he have to be so nice? Why was he apologizing? He sighed, straightening his back as did you when you noticed that the hallway was slowly filling with students. "I can imagine Bucky--Professor Barnes- was being... there is no other way to put it, being a jerk about it. I'm sorry if he gave you a hard time."
Seriously, was he doing that on purpose? 'Jerk' and 'hard'? You closed your eyes and shook your head, breathing in deeply, trying your best to calm your mind. Ironically, the people around you who could have overheard your conversation had they cared enough, gave you a feeling of security and unwittingly provided the emotional support you needed.
You felt your heart slowly settling, your breathing going back to normal. Hell, you even charmed a small smile when you looked at Professor Rogers again, feeling relief wash over your very being when you realized he was serious, offering you an olive branch.
And damn, his smile widening a bit and reaching his eyes, that was a picture you wanted to save for later.
"That is on me, isn't it?" you hummed. "But thank you. That was very kind of you."
He waved it off almost jovially.
"Don't mention it. I just wanted to make sure you weren't beating yourself overt it. Well, I won't keep you anymore, I'm sure you must have better things to do than standing here having this awkward conversation."
A surprised chuckle escaped your lips at his bluntness and you could honestly swoon when you noticed his neck and ears turning a shade redder, his hand twitching and scratching the back of his neck before he caught himself in the tick that apparently overpowered him when he felt... sheepish, you guessed. Flustered. Oh now this was a whole new side to him you couldn't have possibly get a glimpse of before and you found it absolutely endearing.
The sight of a flustered Professor Rogers caused your heart to flutter pleasantly. He really was one of a kind, wasn't he?
Well, sigh, he couldn't possibly want you. And he might not be teaching any of your classes, but he was still a professor. Untouchable. A perfect little dream. A guilty pleasure to fantasize about.
"Thank you, Professor Rogers. Have a nice day," you wished him politely, making your way out, grateful you could blend with the crowd of students.
You would swear that despite his kind words, no hard feelings and all that, you saw the strangest expression cross over his face when he said goodbye. It was understandable though – if he was right about one thing, then it was that the conversation was awkward.
Still, you coaxed yourself into thinking that you two could interact like normal human being should the need arise again and at that, your soul felt as light as a feather.
You could be a good at bullshitting yourself when you wanted to.
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Penny nearly lost it when you told her about the encounter.
You nearly lost it when at eight p.m. on Friday night, you received an e-mail from one Professor Barnes. Apparently, he wanted you to swing by in his office on Monday afternoon to discuss your final test. Your heart dropped to your stomach, emotions swirling.
Had you messed it up? Did he suspect you might have cheated? (You hadn't.)
Or was this a part of what Professor Rogers had talked about, about Bucky being a jerk? Because discussing your final test... well. That was the very start of the story you had accidentally sent him. But as much as you hated it, you couldn't ignore his request, because if there was any problem with your test, then not showing up might result in trouble you didn't want to deal with.
Your weekend was spent by worrying about Monday and picking your courses for the next year. You were very reluctant about joining another of Barnes' classes, but be as it might, he was really good at what he was doing. Insanely good. People practically fought over his and Rogers' classes and you wouldn't miss the opportunity to sign up for another year of fun history.
You did not summon the courage to sign up for Professor Rogers' class, knowing you wouldn't be able to focus. Not to mention the possibility of making him uncomfortable by your presence despite whatever he had told you.
In general, your weekend was depressingly school-like despite your exams being done.
Monday 1 p.m., you knocked on the door reading Barnes and Rogers' names, waiting to be allowed in. It was distant, but you could swear you heard a 'come in', so you entered. Your heart, already pounding in your chest, leaped to your throat.
Barnes was not in.
Professor Rogers looked up from his laptop, surprise written all over his face as he rose to his feet.
"Oh. Hi— eh, good afternoon," he greeted you, shaking his head at his originally informal hello, sending his neatly combed blond locks flying.
You stood frozen in the doorway, speechless.
You were certain this man truly existed just to lead you on the path of sin; he was wearing a shirt the shade of blue or green, something in between that seemed to accent the blue of his irises. He must have grabbed the wrong size once again too since the fabric clung to his ripped body a little too much, causing your core to warm up, your heart to flutter. A small confused smile played on his lips, the beard always giving you ideas trimmed as perfectly as ever. You didn't dare to look bellow the leather belt around his waist, because that truly might be your end.
Professor Rogers was a walking incarnation of Satan ready to lead you astray and you would probably thank him for it like a good girl.
"Anything I can help you with?" his gentle voice snapped you from your reverie, only feeding your unholy thoughts.
Oh, I can think of plenty of things you could help me with.
Heat crept up your neck and face as you chastised yourself, recalling why this encounter could quickly turn awkward. Brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, you wavered in the entrance, looking around hesitantly.
"I... uh, good afternoon, Professor Rogers-" And there it was again, that strange look on his face he fixed so quickly you wondered if you had only imagined it. "I'm sorry for interrupting your work. Uhm... Professor Barnes asked me to come in today? To discuss something about my final test? I can come back-"
"Nonsense. Come in," he gestured lightly, walking around the table to beckon towards the couch. That couch.
Don't think about it, DO NOT think about it-
You bit down on your lip, wondering if this was a good idea. But hey, why not? Professor Rogers was being perfectly polite and was just offering you to wait in, something he would have done for any student, you were sure of it.
You nodded and closed the door behind you, whispering a thanks.
"He should be back here any minute," Professor Rogers informed you as you indecisively stood by the couch. Meanwhile, he moved to a room somewhere behind you, something barely bigger than a closet you hadn't noticed the one time you had been here to see Barnes before. "Please, make yourself comfortable."
You squeezed your eyes shut, a quiet startled noise coming out of your mouth at his words; you heard his steps halt, knowing that little sound didn't escape his attention and you could slap yourself.
This could have been absolutely alright. But no, your lizard brain just had to recall that damn line from your own damn porn.
He huffed something dangerously resembling a chuckle and while you stubbornly refused to look at him, observing the office instead, you peripherally saw him shake his head.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to-- sorry. Can I get you anything? Water, coffee, tea?"
You had no idea how he sounded so calm. You wished to just melt into the floor or vaporize or something, but if he was about to be an actual adult, you could do that too, right? Even despite your obvious teenage-like crush.
"Water would be nice, thank you," you replied, finally forcing yourself to look at him, his broad shoulders barely fitting into the space with a sink and a small counter with a kettle and a coffee maker.
The smile didn't leave his lips and you felt yourself relax enough to return the sentiment when he handed you a glass, your fingers brushing – whether it was an accident or not, that was for you to wonder about later.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome. Seriously, you can take a seat," he teased you lightly and you couldn't but marvel at his behaviour.
Perhaps it was the end of the semester, perhaps it was the fact he was in his relatively safe space, but hadn't seen him this relaxed, ever. And you had been paying attention, alright...
So you obediently sat down, sipping at your water and watching him move confidently around the room, shoving his chair to sit opposite to you.
Your determination to act normal quivered, suddenly standing on a shaky ground.
"You-- you don't need to keep me company or anything, I really don't want to keep you from your work, Professor-"
"You're not," he assured you kindly, that dumb smile still on his face, turning you into a mess. The fact there was a wet patch on your panties already was given, but the urge to just curl up in his arms and bask in his warmth was new and... rather unwelcomed to be honest. Super-inconvenient. "I'm actually grateful to have a reason to get my mind into the present for a bit. Have you picked your courses for next year?"
Who were you to refuse a talk with Professor Rogers, even if it concerned school? Like this, you could stare at him all you wanted – still fascinated by the lack of awkwardness in the air – and didn't have to find excuses to feast your eyes on him. Shit, why did he always seem to be looking to the darkest depths of your soul whenever you met his gaze?
"Yeah. Yes, I have."
One of his brows rose in expectation, a silent question you didn't quite want to answer. You squirmed in your seat.
"I didn't sign up for any of your courses," you admitted, biting your cheek to keep yourself from laughter when he theatrically laid his palm over his chest, clearly pretending to be wounded.
Something flashed in his eyes though, something content almost and you felt your mood sink, not quite able to keep the corners of your lips from turning down. He was happy he wouldn't have to meet you on regular basis. Why did it hurt? That was what you wanted, that was why you didn't sign up-
"I'm wounded," he informed you and levelled you with mock stern look. "I guess I didn't do a good enough job as a substitute, didn't leave good enough of an impression."
"Oh believe me, you left an impression," you mumbled under your breath and nearly chocked on your next sip of water when he retorted:
"I did?"
Your eyes widened, your palm slapping over your mouth, causing his lips to twitch.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, fingers interlaced.
"Sorry, good hearing, comes in handy. I—eh, I actually wanted to ask you something else too."
Run, run, RUN, you chanted in your mind, but instead, you sat frozen in your seat, watching every micro-expression appearing and leaving his face. The beard made it difficult, but his eyes spoke volumes.
"Look, I... I'm aware I'm being completely out of line right now and I want you to know that whatever you might say, whatever your answer might be, you did not sign up for any of my classes, so it won't affect you... it won't affect your marks or anything," Professor Rogers said in a comforting tone and you felt everything but comforted, utterly confused about where this was heading.
You had an unpleasant hunch it concerned that damn story, but you didn't even let yourself think about that; your heart was freaking out enough as it was already, pulse thumping in your temples.
His eyes roamed your face, searching for something, an intense gaze that made it impossible to look away.
"I noticed you in the class before."
Your heart might have sped up, your body tensing as you were taken aback, but you couldn't make yourself to blink and lose the eye-contact for even a millisecond.
"You... you did?" you breathed out shakily, butterflies flipping their wings in your stomach as you caught his smile peripherally.
"Yes. You were... different, a good different."
You gulped and wetted your suddenly dry lips. His gaze followed the motion and you could swear you were about to explode when he mirrored the movement.
No fucking way.
"O-okay?"
He blinked, releasing you from the cage of his gaze and allowing you to breathe in, to shake off the flutter in your stomach, the clench of your core.
Oh, you were so screwed. What was this man doing to you... it was downright unfair to be affected like that! But... was he trying to say what you thought he was trying to say?
"I like the way you look at things, you're a fresh wind. Bucky let me read your essays – they are pretty thoughtful." He read up on you? Well, now colour you confused. Perhaps this was heading a completely different direction than you had thought just a moment ago. You swallowed the ray of hope along with your disappointment. "But... it wasn't the only reason I noticed you."
You waited, staring at him as his gaze fell on the floor, a self-depreciating smile appearing on his lips. You were rendered speechless, barely following his train of thought.
"What I'm trying to say is that— I just wanted to ask if you ever wanted to get coffee?" he said finally and that moment you were positive your heart stopped. It must have and now you were in heaven. Or was it hell? Because he was definitely sinful. A bit cute momentarily, as he appeared nervous asking you, but still. He always looked sinful.
Your lips parted in silent shock, an undeniable tingle in your stomach. Did he... did he like you? Or was he simply curious about your... steamy story? Was it curiosity? Was it a dare? Was it-
"You can totally say no, of course!" he hurried to reassure you while you breathed through your astonishment. "That's why I said there would be no consequences. And just so you know, there's nothing wrong about meeting for a coffee concerning the university rules, because you are not my student and it doesn't even have to mean anything – it could be just two people drinking coffee or tea or whatever, talking like friends--- acquaintances, discussing history or whatever topic comes to mind."
Professor Rogers was completely flustered, seemingly panicking and desperate to fix whatever offence he thought he had created and you had to blink several times as million thoughts swirled in your head, excited ones, delighted ones and dark ones, anxiety creeping in, stopping you from grinning like a loon.
"I... is it because of what I wrote?" you whispered, meeting his eye hesitantly, apparently startling him, because he now looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
"No! No- I mean-" You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, an ugly sinking feeling in your stomach. So maybe this was it, the true humiliation you had expected when- "Dammit. I- I liked you, alright? You caught my attention in the class and then this mess happened and first, I didn't know who wrote the story and I just... I was hoping it was you, because that would mean I wasn't a total creep for thinking about you and--- ...I just wanted it to be you," he whispered, his speech starting off heatedly, slowly turning hesitant and heavy with a confession.
A confession which, had it been recorded, might be quite compromising, posing danger to his career. And yet he laid it out, baring himself to you, left exposed and vulnerable to your judgement and actions. Putting himself to the same position you had been when your story left the safety of your laptop.
Your eyes fluttered open, finding him staring at the floor, fingers anxiously gripped together, his hair slightly dishevelled as if he had run his hand through it during his confession. Your heart melted at the sight, at yet another side of him revealed, and you couldn't but yearn for him, couldn't but believe that he was being completely and entirely honest.
Silence settled on the office, heavy and suffocating, your heart beating so loud that the sound must have been bouncing off the walls.
This was crazy. You didn't even know each other well, barely at all, and no matter what the rules said, this could have turn into an utter mess and for what? For a bit of longing? For a silly crush?
There were so many things that could go wrong-
"Yes," you whispered before you could stop yourself.
Professor Rogers' head instantly snapped up, shocked blue orbits staring into your soul. He looked so genuinely surprised that you felt your lips spread in a smile, your answer suddenly becoming obvious. How could you even hesitate?
"Yes, I think I'd like to get coffee with you."
It was your turn to drop your gaze when a radiant smile appeared on his face, lightening up his expression, all of sudden too bright to be looked at.
"Thank you."
You chuckled into your palm eyeing him and bursting into a fit of incredulous giggles. Did you really just agree to go out with him? With the guy you... eh, wrote porn about?
Something resembling hurt flashed over his face and you quickly shook your head, stretching as much as you could while still sitting, reaching out to touch his hand, to reassure him you were certainly not laughing at him, that this was not a joke.
"I'm sorry, I just... this is kinda ridiculous. I- I have a bit of trouble processing this," you admitted sheepishly, the giggles subduing, but the smile remaining, turning shy.
Professor Rogers's demeanour softened instantly, a glint of something that appeared a lot like fondness in his eyes. And wow, you weren't sure how long you could keep up the Professor Rogers thing if you were to go out... Steve then?
His hand engulfed your fingers gently, leaning forward so he could brush his lips over your knuckles, his beard tickling your skin in stark contrast to the warmth, having your mind once again rushing somewhere inappropriate; and yet, you felt your heart swell at the tenderness of his gesture.
Charming bastard. Not only he had you dreaming about him in the filthiest way, now he wanted your heart too? Already? Greedy much?
"There's no rush, alright?" he assured you and ran the pad of his thumb over the previously caressed skin, leaning back to sit straighter without releasing you. "And if you decide to... to call it off-- if you change your mind, I'll understand. No strings attached, yeah?"
"Yeah," you echoed, squeezing his fingers, startled when a loud knock sounded from the door, instantly snapping you back to reality and causing you to slip from his grip, backing into the couch in fear of getting caught red-handed. Or handholding, in your case, which, what the hell.
Professor Barnes' head peeked in, a cheeky grin on his face widening when he noticed your startled expression.
"You guys decent? Can I come in?"
Professor Rogers – Steve? – sighed, sounding bone-tired. "Buck, it's your office too."
"Well, yeah, but I gave you two some space to deal with your... issues and one can never know if he's about to walk into some smooching after that," Barned hummed as he entered, the door clicking shut behind him as the realization struck you.
He had set you up. He wanted you to find Steve alone in his office. Where had he been then? Hiding behind the corner, waiting for you to show up? Listening in behind the door too, waiting for the right moment to appear?
Your face heated up at the idea and you sunk further into the couch, mortified.
Then again, Barnes had read your porn. About his best friend, no less. Could there really be anything more compromising than that? You doubted that.
Steve cleared his throat, rising to his feet. "Well, mission accomplished. I believe you wanted to discuss something with-"
Professor Barnes had the audacity to chuckle. "Oh, please. Her test is fine, she got a B. The only thing I need to tell her is that if you two are about to get together and make it a public thing – which you will at some point, because it's kinda inevitable, really – I might have to keep her records more detailed, keeping her tests for longer period, recording the oral exam if there's one, just to prove I'm not playing favourites for my friend. But we cross that bridge when you get there. Questions about the course you're taking next year?"
You barely kept up with him, growing more uncomfortable with each sentence, but it was the last one that struck you. And the one before that, but that was a lot to unpack there.
"Do you already know I'm in your course?" you blurted out, shooting Professor Rogers' a suspicious glare when Barnes' eyebrow rose as if telling you that yeah, obviously. "Interesting..."
The tips of Steve's ears burned red and he cleared his throat. So, he had known that you were taking no classes of his next year when he asked. How different his today's behaviour would be if he didn't know? If you had picked him as a professor?
You couldn't but thank to heavens for being so sensible and not choosing his class, even if for a whole different set of reasons.
"And uhm... 'when' we get there?" you questioned lightly, feeling dizzy and baffled by Professor Barnes being so sure that you would go out with his best friend and that you would work out as a couple.
"I'm sorry, did I stutter?" he huffed, looking like he was barely holding back an eye-roll. Respected professor my ass. "Someone should have caught it on camera, the way you were gazing at each other when I came in. I'm kinda disappointed to be honest, I was expecting some make-out session at least."
"Bucky, please shut up. I'm begging you," Professor Rogers complained, his whole face set aflame now. No matter how perplexed you were by Barnes' words, you couldn't but chuckle at Rogers' obvious exasperation and embarrassment. He smiled at you, a tiny lift of his lips. "How about I'll walk you out."
Professor Barnes eyebrows lifted twice in a suggestive manner and you had to look away, biting your cheek to stop the giddy laughter which threatened to bubble in your chest. God, he was trouble. How did Professor Rogers deal with him all the time?
"That... uhm, that would be very kind of you," you replied, leaving the other man behind as you and Steve walked to the door.
"See ya!"
"See you, Professor Barnes."
You nearly jumped out of your skin when Rogers' hand gently landed on your back, silently pleading you to just get out of Barnes' reach. The heat instantly flooding to the point of contact made your gut clench pleasantly. He had big hands, warm, long fingers that felt really nice and-
Aaaand you were back with your mind in the gutter, great. But hey, you were entitled now. Steve had asked you out; how crazy was that?
"...thank you, Professor Rogers," you whispered respectfully once you were by the door, looking up into his eyes, not missing the way his pupils dilated a fraction.
Well, well, well... perhaps your story had hit a bit closer to home than you could ever guess. The premise of something even resembling your fantasy actually happening caused your core to ache. You distracted yourself by shoving him a piece of paper from your purse.
"Here. My number-- oh- you could probably just find it in the system too or-"
"I prefer it this way, believe me. Thank you. I'll text you or call you today so you have my number too, in case of-- if you changed your mind or anything," he added, suddenly unsure.
You couldn't have that now, could you? He didn't get to bait you just to back out now!
"I'll be waiting. Have a good day, Professor Rogers," you emphasized this time, adding a bold wink when you heard his sharp inhale.
He cleared his throat, his Adam's apple jumping and the surge of confidence you felt in your veins almost made you dizzy. He likes me too. He said he thought of me. I guess that it was in more ways than I could hope for.
"R-right. You too. Uhm, goodbye."
The door closed shut behind you, but it didn't do the best job muffling the voices inside.
"Man, she's gonna fuck you up on a whole new level and I'll be here for it in the front row with a bowl of popcorn," Professor Barnes burst out laughing, so loud you nearly missed Professor Rogers' retort.
"Shut the fuck up, Buck!"
"Make me-"
"Oh, I-"
The corners of your lips twitched wildly at their banter. Perhaps having coffee with Steve would be the most normal date of your life if this or the way you two had talked earlier was anything to go by.
And yet, it would be fucking extraordinary. He asked you out. Professor Steve Rogers asked you out... what the hell was your life?
Awesome, it was awesome. You managed to keep the giggles inside, your chest shaking silently, until you left the building and then you let them out along with a squeal of delight.
You knew that what you were about to do was risky – but damn, did you want to try.
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