Steve Rogers One Shots (Steve Rogers x Reader)

The Arrangement - Part 2

Here I am again, laying in my bed, wide awake. 20 minutes ago, I was falling asleep in the lounge while trying to watch a movie with Sam.

Maybe it's my room? Could it be my room?

No, that's stupid. It's such a nice room. Tony really spared no expense when it came to living quarters for us, it's all very generous. I've tried not to junk it up too much and keep it clean and neat. I look around at the few pieces on the wall and agree with myself. The shelf of Funko Pops might be questionable but they're in good order. I am Monica, after all.

Okay... so should I do this? It's too early, I haven't really given myself a proper chance to get sleepy again.

Jumping up from my bed, I've got the answer. I walk to my bathroom and run hot bath water. This is going to do it, I know it. It's sweet of Steve to offer this but what does it say about me if I take him up on it?

As I'm slipping down into the water that's way hotter than I intended it to be - because obviously I am distracted - I wonder what does it say if I don't take him up on his offer?

If I keep showing up places looking like hell from not sleeping, he's going to feel bad that I don't want to hop into bed with him. I don't want him to take it personally. I can't believe I just thought about "hopping into bed" with Captain America, America's original sweetheart.

Let's be honest here, Steve isn't in a habit of saying things just to say them. I know he meant it.

I groan out loud at myself before concentrating on being quiet and trying to listen to the soft music I put on. I'm going to try the bath first. One step at a time.

I sit up to reach for some epsom salts and lavender to add to my water before sinking back down in and turning the jets on. Would you look at that? - My feet need a little work. I realize I'm playing a game against myself. I'm finding that I'm consciously thinking about Steve possibly seeing my feet... as if I've already made up my mind that I'm sleeping in his room tonight.

This internal tug of war is going to be the end of me.

Might as well shave while I'm down there. And good thing I keep nail polish next to the tub so I can paint my toenails too.

I shouldn't care what Steve thinks of my toenails. I shouldn't.

But I suddenly do.

Hair up in a messy bun, cute pajamas on, toes painted, legs shaved, I step out into the hallway and walk just a few feet away to the other side of the hallway where Steve's door is. Oh did I mention I also moisturized and brushed my teeth? That includes mouthwash and floss, by the way.

Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?

I can see Steve's light is on because the crack under his door is glowing. I raise my hand to knock but it's like my arm is frozen in place. I realize though that I shouldn't stand out here in my pajamas too long because I wonder what this will look like if someone sees me in my pajamas heading into Steve's room. So I force myself to knock quickly and quietly.

"It's open," I hear from inside, his voice is muffled but sounds pleasant.

I open the door a crack to look inside and wave. He's sitting at his desk in a gray sweatshirt and jeans and the tv is on but I realize he's probably only got it on for background noise. "May I?"

"Yes, yes, come on in," he waves with a smile. So I quickly enter and close the door behind me. I find myself standing there, smiling, but not moving because I just have no clue how to proceed with this unusual new arrangement. "Have a seat," he says, surprisingly excitedly. I sit on the edge of the bed and he gets up. "I'm uh... not ready for bed yet but I can get ready."