angel cake ♡ tom holland/sebastian stan/chris evans oneshots

Rain // Steve Rogers

   You sneezed again, hurrying faster through the desolate streets to just get this over and done with so you could go home and treat your cold. Your boss promised you that, because of your dumb cold, if you returned some guy's card to his house (he was important, apparently), you could take a week off and it wouldn't count as a holiday, or any of your actual sick days. That pissed you off. Like, endlessly, that pissed you off. It was bucketing rain and windy with it, and your flimsy umbrella had flipped the wrong way around and blown away too many times to count. You were soaking wet, hair in rats tails, and this trip was doing nothing for your cold. And yet, you could have a WEEK off. A whole ass week. A week of no obnoxious customers, a week of no scalding hot coffee spilling onto your hands, a week of no ass-taps. A week without all that shit. But you still hated what you had to do to get that week. To keep yourself going to the address you were given, you cursed each and every person who worked with you, wishing they would all die horrific, dramatic, humiliating deaths. That helped, because it always did.

   Finally, you arrived at a huge three-storey house, buried deep in the expensive houses nowhere near your own. It was impressive, but at that time, the one thing you wanted was a warm blanket and honey tea and The Office. You walked up the front steps and rung the doorbell, ignoring the elegant brass eagle knocker. You wanted to use it, and so did inner-childish-you, but you just wanted this to be over. You stood on the steps for another minute before you rang the bell again.

   "I'M COMING!" Someone yelled and you heard a key in the door, relief flooding your mind. The door opened and a guy smiled at you. He was blond and tall. Like, TALL. And fit, so fucking fit. The eye candy almost made the whole trip worth it.

   "Hi, sorry to bother you, I'm Alessia, I work at Have A Brewtiful Day, the coffee shop on 3rd. I think you may have left your card there. Did you come in earlier?" You smiled politely, tucking your sopping wet hair behind your ear. The guy's face dropped.

   "Did you walk all the way from 3rd to here?"

   "Yeah, um, I just need to return your card..."

   "No, no, you can't go back to 3rd, not in this rain. Come inside, you can wait the storm out, okay?" 

   "Are you sure?"

   "Can't let a young lady like yourself freeze to death in weather like this, can I?" He grinned, then stepped back, holding the door open for you.

~

   Within an hour, you'd given Steve his card and he'd let you use his shower because he was oddly adamant that you didn't get too cold. You thanked him - a LOT, praying you wouldn't sneeze too loudly. He let you borrow some of his clothes for while your own clothes dried. You pulled on the loose sweats and T-shirt and tried to towel-dry your hair as best as possible, then emerged from the still-steamy bathroom, making your way downstairs. You nervously peeked around the doorway to the kitchen, where you heard someone moving around. Steve turned to you and smiled, pouring fresh-brewed coffee into two mugs. 

   "You feeling warmer?" He asked, offering a cup out to you. You nodded gratefully, smiling back.

   "I am, thank you." You took a sip of coffee, then rested it on the counter so you could sneeze. Steve smiled at you, laughing a little. 

   "What?"

   "You are adorable when you sneeze." You blushed and laughed at him.

   "Shut up." You laughed, drinking a little more coffee, then stopping to sneeze again. Steve grinned wryly.

   "I'm starting to think you're allergic to coffee."

   "It would be a pretty sucky thing to be allergic to," you replied, leaning against the counter and wrapping your frozen fingers around the mug, "Considering the fact I work at a coffee shop, right? And I've just got a cold, that's all. Don't come to close, I don't want to infect you."