Chapter Text
Relationships were never Steve’s forte. Not in the forties, and definitely not now. Maybe if he had more time back then. Nowadays relationships aren't the same.
Maybe he needed to get with the times, or maybe he just needed to find the right girl.
***
I had been sitting at my usual table in the coffee shop I’ve been frequenting at for these past couple weeks. It is a good place for working on the finishing touches of my lesson plan. I just want my first class to be perfect, and I’m leaving no “i” undotted, or “t” uncrossed.
Then my reason for being here walked out from the storeroom. You. You had only begun working there the Sunday before last, but you made quite an impression on me. I still remember the first time I laid eyes on you, it was your first day and it was written all over your face. You didn’t have much experience with people, that much was obvious, but you were ambitious.
You had this air about you when you first interacted with me, and it pulled me in.
~
“Hey, what can I get for you today?” You smiled warmly. You seemed comfortable with me; your voice just oh so sweet. It all made me wonder what made me so special? All the others in front of him didn’t get this special treatment. You looked like a regular canceled stamp with the others, at least that is the impression that I got.
There are times like this that I hate being “Captain America”, it is terrible, I don’t care for the doting, and being waited on. This felt different though.
“Yeah, can I get a triple americano? Uh, large please.”
“Sure thing, that coming right up, and your name?”
“Steve?” You didn’t know my name? You’re probably just being polite, or are a complete knot head… or maybe this treatment is genuine.
You write it on the cup along with a smiley face, “You sure? Seems like you’re not certain.” You smiled, earning a small chuckle from me. “That’ll be 4.50”
“Yeah I’m pretty sure.” Swiping my card, cheeks going a little pink. Why am I reacting like this? I’m not that scrawny school boy anymore.
“Alright Stevie, you’ll hear your name in a couple minutes.” You smiled up at me once again. Causing another blush to creep up to my cheeks. I don’t like this, why can’t I control this feeling?
“Thank you, ma’am.” Why am I so flustered? Thank goodness my voice didn’t betray me and crack or waved while I gave my thanks. I had already put my card back in my wallet and began to walk away when you stood and began to speak again, placing your hand on the counter and leaning towards him.
“You are so very welcome, and thank you…. Really. You’re the first person to be nice to me today, I know it’s my first day and I’m kinda slow right now but I really appreciate your patience.” You smiled again and began walking away. I didn’t even have time to think of what to say back, but it hurts my heart to think how badly the others must’ve treated you for you to think that my short, curt responses were me being polite. I didn’t even pay attention to how the other customers were treating you, I was just enamored with your beauty.
I promise I will try to be better to you in the future.
~
I smile at the memory, you’ve come a long way since then. I’ve seen you make everything on the menu, and you said you have actually run the shop by yourself a few times. Personally, I consider that to be very impressive, considering how busy it gets here. I can’t help but feel a sense of pride for how far you have come. My first impression was obviously wrong because I now see you’ve got a good head on your shoulders.
The only problem that I have right now is that I can’t build up the courage to be more than a regular to you. There’s something about you that makes me weak in the knees and out of breath every time I try to talk to you about anything significant. The most conversation the two of you have had so far is small talk and the occasional joke I remember from the old days. That and the constant compliments I give you. Your blush is just darling, and the way I can tell that you listen to me is just driving me wild. Whenever I say “you look lovely in that color” or something similar you cater to my preferences. You have been wearing much more navy blue and pink since I've told you I liked it, and I crave more control. I would love to think of more ways to get you to be mine, but at this moment, however, I need to head down to campus.
Sparing one last longing look towards you, I left.
***
Readers POV
“So when are you going to stop staring at him and make your move?” Your roommate and coworker teased you. Loudly, I might add.
“Shh! Maria I’m not making any moves on anybody, you know this. I just want to focus on my classes, I can’t be overwhelming myself again this year. I ain't letting no man hold me back.” You want her to quiet down even though the guy she is talking about has already left.
“True, but you need to have fun. When was the last time you went home with a guy? Or did anything besides study or work?” You smacked her playfully. ‘Never’ you thought, wiping down the counters.
“Besides, I think he’s interested. Take a ride on tha—“ you covered her mouth with your hand.
“I don’t think this is very appropriate talk for work,” your face is definitely beet red. “But hey, I’m gonna head to class” you untie your apron, put it on a shelf in the back and grab your jacket and backpack. “Are you sure you're fine? I can just bum somebody's notes if you need me here...” looking around at the nearly empty cafe.
“Go, besides I heard that your new math teacher is a hunk.” She laughed and began nudging you. “Go get an education, why do I have to force you?” Making a show of pushing you towards the door.
You walk to the front of the counter, “Because I liked the old teacher, I understood them.” You half laughed, but you were a little serious, Ms. Vell was your favorite teacher, and you were gonna miss her. She made everything make so much sense and that isn’t something you've experienced often.
“I know but now you gotta make a good first impression on Mr. Roberts.” She reminded me.
“Rogers, and you’re right. I’ll see you at home.” You ignore the half confused look Maria gave you and with one last quick wave you are gone.
The walk to your class isn’t long, you worked at the campus coffee shop and while it wasn’t your first choice, Maria stuck her neck out for you and you weren’t going to waste it. It began to smell like it was about to rain, so you hurried to your class hoping to make it before it started pouring. You were nearing Mr. Rogers office when you caught a glimpse of someone rushing around the corner on their cell. Not thinking anything of it besides he seemed pretty overwhelmed, and vaguely familiar.
You get into the classroom with about 20 minutes to spare. Well, it’s better than being late. You knew this was gonna be a pretty small class compared to the rest of the classes on campus. This class only has around 30ish students on the roster rather than 50-70. Out of those 30, only 8 are here right now. You chose to sit in the front row.
You pull out your notebook and begin writing the topic on the board, and the date. You flip over the notebook and begin doodling on the cover.
The notebook cover is filled, looking at the clock you do there is still 17 minutes till the start of class. You take out the book you are currently reading. It was a collection of short stories, and you just got to A Tell-tale heart. Not very long but with the older vernacular, it takes a second to understand what they were saying.
5 minutes left, you thought to yourself when you heard that the professor just got here, you haven’t looked up yet but can hear his loud voice. This book is so hard to read, straining your eyes for the tiny text. You’re probably sitting a little wild, hunched forward hair covering most of your face. Just have to finish this page, you thought just when a hand comes into view and pulls the book from your grasp.
You look up to see Steve holding your book, not looking at you. You are so glad you didn’t listen and hit on him like Maria kept bugging you to do. That would make this a million more times awkward than it already is right now.
“Edgar Allen Poe. He’s an alright author but try not to get too distracted—” he stops when he sees your face, “shit.”
Shit.