100 Marvel One Shots✔️

Day Over Dawn >> Steve Rogers (Captain America) X Reader

Title: Day Over Dawn

Paring: Steve Rogers (Captain America) X Reader

Warnings: insecurities and fluff

Spoilers: none

Sequel: yes, to Books Before Brawn

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When you were younger, you'd seen your mother dating in the many years following the death of your father. She would come home crying, laughing, drunk or sober, it wouldn't matter. It would still make you feel something warm in your chest, something that made you wish that she would stay faithful to a memory, rather than a stranger. Maybe it was this which brought your caution to dating, to social interactions, you weren't sure, but there it was, ingrained into you. 

And here you were, sitting with an arm around you, watching a movie on Steve Rogers' couch. He was watching Star Trek intently, completely mesmerised with the cinematography and CGI like a child. He was so into the flick that he wasn't aware that your gaze rested not on the handsome Captain Kirk's face, but on your hands, which sat on your lap, cradling each other. It was with your hands, holding each other like the moon holds the sun, like peace holds chaos, you felt a flicker of fear light itself aflame within your chest. 

It had been six months of little dates, visits to the cinema, picnics in the park, greeting the people who were in charge of his schedule and superhero team, and yet, it still felt like something was off. It wasn't that you felt like an interruption in his life. Oh no, it was almost like you were the fifth finger, found and re-sewn back onto his palm, fitting into a place you never knew you could exist. That was fine. You heard chatter from the newspapers and the general rumour mill of the internet that he was dating a librarian, someone too mousy, a shrinking violet-type woman. But you knew that was what you were, there was no hard feelings reading it in the headlines of Vogue. 

What it felt was wrong was something completely different. Somewhere, in some part of your mind, you felt like you didn't know Steve Rogers, the entire Steve Rogers, whom which Bucky was coming to remember. It felt wrong, only knowing half of someone, and not finding the gall to ask more. 

"Hi Christopher, I'm Nero," the character on screen deadpans. 

Beside you, Steve chuckles, and glances to you. "Hey, _______, this is - are you alright?" he grabs the remote from the coffee table before you two, and pausing the movie, stops to get a good look of you. "Talk to me, is something wrong?" 

You go to shake your head, but before you know it, you've gathered your purse and exited the apartment, before the first tear can be shed.

The library is silent. It always is at the closing hour, everyone who would loiter finding themselves away and elsewhere from the salvation of the books. Granted, there were a few latecomers checking their emails at the free computers, and a child and parent checking out their storybooks for the week, but it was very nearly silent. 

Just as you thought that, the doors swung inward, revealing a red-clad woman you were well-acquainted with. Like always, Wanda Maximoff had a glint in her eye that wasn't of trouble but her adventurous spirit, hair flowing in the lightest of breezes, and otherwise, appearing to be a model straight out of a catalogue. Her gaze found you at once, and instead of her smile, her lips fixed themselves into a firm line.