Steve Rogers Imagines

Toothbrush.

...I wonder how many people still read this book after I abandoned it for 6 months, I'M SORRY OKAY?? Tbh I just had a really crappy six months, my mental health had gone down the drain and my grades were worse than ever so i needed some time to take care of all that. But I'm finally back for good (I hope?) and so here's this really long story that was inspired by DNCE's "toothbrush". 

  "Baby, you don't have to rush

    You can leave a toothbrush

     At my place ..."

She sighs and clutches her drink closer to her chest. She does not want to be here.

Truth be told, she hates parties. She wishes her best friend hadn't convinced her to come out to this club tonight, but now that she's here, there's no turning back.

There are people everywhere. Its crowded and slightly overwhelming. Humid, but only because of the amount of sweaty people here. Fucking nasty, she thinks. And loud as hell. So loud she can't even hear herself think. God. It's the perfect scene for her best friend, but not for her.

Speaking of her best friend, she's somewhere out there in the vast sea of beautiful Hollywood people, shrieking and downing shot after shot. Which is exactly where she expected her best friend to be, but still. She loves her best friend, but god, following her around gets old.

So she takes another (big) sip of her drink and nearly jumps when she hears someone behind her clear their throat. She turns around in what feels like slow motion to see the most handsome person she's ever seen. So handsome, in fact, that it takes her a moment to realize who he is. He smiles at her, taking in her surprised little face before holding out his hand. "Hi."

She eyes it for a moment before realizing what he's doing. She swallows and reaches out to shake his hand. "Hi."

He chuckles quietly, finding it cute that she's so surprised. "I'm Chris. You're y/n y/l/n, aren't you?"

"Uh... yeah. How'd you know that?"

He grins. "You interviewed me last week. Remember?"

Of course she remembers. Vividly, in fact. She just never expected him to remember. After all, she knows he meets thousands of people every day; certainly millions since the last time she's seen him. Still, she nods. "Yeah. Of course I remember. How've you been?"

He nods. "I've been good. Busy as hell. Y'know I've got that Avenger's film comin' out soon. And another short film, though, I should't be telling you that. S'a big secret, Least my manager wants it to be. But I didn't come to this party to talk about myself. Came to get away from all that. How're you?"

She marvels at how interesting he is. Even though he only spoke a few sentences, she's enchanted by his presence. She finds herself wishing he would talk more about himself. He could tell her all about what he had for breakfast that morning, in vivid detail, and she'd be interested. Blame it on his voice. Blame it on his damn good looks. No matter what it is, she's hooked already.

"I'm good," she says, and she mentally punches herself for not being more interesting. "I'm a bit hot."

His cheek quirks up a bit at that. So quickly, she thinks, that she would've missed it if she blinked. She ponders the double meaning of what she just said, and she's about to clarify when he speaks. "Me too, actually. Want to go outside?"

Why is he doing this? Why is Chris Evans talking to some measly little journalist such as herself? Is there some story he wants her to get out there? She doesn't know. She finds herself struggling to resist his beautiful eyes, though. Good god, he's beautiful.