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But Will There Be Whisky?

(Uploaded to Tumblr on 19/11/18)

Steve Rogers x Platonic!Reader, Slight Stucky.

Words: 2427

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, mentions of sex.

Request: Anon: Hi could you do a fic with Steve Rodger where the reader is like and have the attitude of Wynonna Earp

Summary: Steve's basically your older brother that's so done with your shit.

A/N: I sware I can write. I actually quite like this, it's just not really story driven. Anon, I tried my best.

***

"Y/N! C'mon, it's morning!" Steve yelled through your door, his loud voice causing you to curl up closer to your less than half full bottle of whisky. Like it was your childhood teddy bear.

Seconds later you had drifted back to sleep, mouth open slightly, as heavy, slow breaths escaped it.

"Y/N!" Your skin separated from the rest of your body, at the loud voice right behind you, no longer outside your door. Your eyes grew wide before you peered over your shoulder at the tall man behind you. His hands were on his hips, looking down at you, his eyes full of annoyance. "Wake up," he continued slowly.

"Sadly. I am awake," you replied, steadily pushing yourself up into a sitting position.

"Well then, get up." He grabbed your bottle of whisky, the remnants sloshing around inside, as he walked towards your now open door. Ignoring your protesting whine. "I sware, sometimes you're worse than, Tony."

"I'll take that as a compliment," you replied following him into the tower's kitchen.

"You shouldn't."

"I know. He's a lightweight."

"Who's a lightweight?" Bruce asked from his spot at the breakfast counter, watching you over the top of his laptop.

"Tony."

"Only you would think that," he replied.

You shrugged at Bruce, turning back around to face Steve, reaching over to try and grab your whisky him.

"Ah ah. You'll get this back later tonight. But, for now, you're gonna sit down and eat breakfast," Steve said gesturing to Loki, who suddenly made your whisky disappear with a puff of green smoke.

"What the fuck, Loki?!" you screeched at the demi-god, whos smirk was his only response. You turned back to Steve, "And unless 'breakfast' means 'getting wasted, and blacking out in bed'. Then I'm not interested.

"No. But, there are doughnuts," Natasha spoke behind you before Steve could scold you about your life choices. Again. Natasha held a large box of assorted doughnuts. Placing them down onto the countertop.

"Well, That's good enough," you mumbled. Beginning to rummage through the box of doughnuts heaven in front of you.

"Did you," Natasha paused, "Fall asleep with your clothes on?

Doughnut in hand, you glanced down at your all-black ensemble, clad with a leather jacket, and combat boots. Facing her, you said, "Yes." Then continued to take a bite out of your powdered chocolate doughnut.

"Wow, you really are a hot mess," she regarded.

"The focus word here being 'hot'," you said walking from the kitchen, intending to get a couple more hours of shut-eye before Steve started badgering on at you again. Mumbling to yourself, "But God knows, you're not wrong."