Lessons in Rule Breaking and Other Reader-Inserts*Steve Rogers*Reader*

The Line between Respectful and Stupid - Pt.3/5

3. How to make friends with a superhero 

You woke up with a startle, a dull throb in your arm following you from your dream – an awful dream full of explosions and bullets. Taking a second, you came to conclusion it was the other was around – that the real deal of getting shot followed you to the dream and back. You ran your hand down your face tiredly, sitting up on the bed.

It was a huge bed. Unfairly comfortable. You were sure that if it weren't for the pain, you wouldn't wake up for a very long time, such action actually offending the glorious piece of furniture.

But you did wake up. And you were still on a mission, so you needed to get off your ass. The man who was probably still in the next room motivated you enough to stand up and caused you to paint an unwitting smile on your face despite the shitty situation you were in.

Which was not silly at all.

You tried to fix your hair blindly as you walked to the living room, surprised to find it empty. There was no Steve, but there was Captain America's shield leant onto a wall next to the fireplace, making you smirk. No matter what side of himself Steve had showed you, the man was sure attached to his toy.

To be fair, that 'toy' was a big part of the reason you were still alive, so you were definitely not about to call him out on it, let alone complain.

Making your way further to the cabin, you entered the kitchen connected with a dining room. Your smile widened automatically as you found Steve sitting at the table, laptop in front of himself, a cup of what you guessed was coffee right next to it. He immediately looked up from the screen when he acknowledged your presence and smiled right back at you.

"Morning. Feel better?" he asked, his eyes subtly roaming all over your figure, still dressed in the dirty bloody uniform.

You were a stark contrast to him; he was dressed in a simple light t-shirt (that was not too tight around his muscles at all) and grey sweats and must have taken a shower, because there were no longer streaks of dirt on his face or anywhere, no blood. He looked so disgustingly clean in comparison to you that you felt a pang of shame. Except he didn't seem to mind, watching you with concern when you didn't reply at instant.

"Yeah, much. Thank you," you assured him, stepping into the room, forcing yourself to stop staring at him. It dawned to you had never checked him for injuries. The feeling of shame only throbbed with more intensity. "You?"

The blatant confusion on his face was almost funny. "Huh?"

"How are you? I was a bit tired and not thinking straight. I didn't even ask if you had any injuries that I couldn't see."

Though you sure look just fine in this outfit of yours... or the uniform.

"I'm fine." That's what I thought. He seemed touched at your worry and slightly taken aback, flustered even. He gestured vaguely towards the kitchen units. "I dug up some canned soup if you'd like. You should probably eat something. And you know, liquids."

You briefly followed his gaze, noticing a washed bowl and cooking pot on the rack next to the sink. Clearly, he had helped himself, so there was probably nothing wrong with you doing the same, even though your and his ratings were very different. Judging by the uncomfortable clench of your stomach, it didn't care for such things.

"Thank you. That's very kind of-... is 'kind-ass' a word? I would put it on the list."

Steve chuckled softly, raising a curious eyebrow as you made your way to the cooker.