Rain: Steve Rogers
Y/N’s POV:
I scribble a quick note on the pad beside me, then sign another document and add it to the ever-growing pile of completed work. Office jobs are undeniably boring, but they pay well, so I shouldn’t complain. I grab another file, stand up, and stretch, yawning before walking toward the copier. I switch on the machine and watch, almost hypnotized, as it churns out copy after copy. A glance through the massive windows lining the office wall reveals dark gray skies threatening to burst open. “Y/N!” My boss, Amelia, calls out, and I turn to see her walking toward me with a half-smile. “How long have you been here today? I hardly see you leave your desk.”
“I had a mountain of work to catch up on after marketing’s slip-up yesterday,” I explain with a wry smile.
“Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll tell marketing to handle the rest of it. You finish up this stack,” she gestures toward the copier. “Then I want you to pack up your bags and head home. The skies are looking stormy.” She pats my shoulder.
“Thank you so much, Amelia.” I offer a relieved smile.
“Yup. Anytime, Y/N! I’ll get out of your way. Good work!” She gives me a thumbs-up before returning to her office.
A surge of energy courses through me. I scoop up the copies and rush back to my desk. After signing each paper and adding it to the stack, I deliver them to Amelia’s basket. I grab my purse and coat, then walk toward the elevator, my mood lifted. As the elevator descends to the ground floor, I feel giddy. Once outside, I wave to Henry, the security guard, before stepping out into the lobby. The first thing I encounter is a gust of cold air and a few drops of rain. I shrug and begin walking toward my apartment. After a few minutes, as I predicted, the sky opens, and rain begins to pour down. “Shit…” I mutter, quickening my pace in my heels. Within moments, I’m soaked to the bone. I slow to a normal walk, protecting my bag as best as I can.
Suddenly, I hear, “Ma’am? Can I offer you a ride?” A car pulls alongside me, the driver slowing to match my pace. Subtly, I reach into my bag and clasp my hand around my pepper spray, just in case.
“I’m okay. I don’t live far. Thank you, though,” I say to the driver, pointedly avoiding eye contact but keeping the car within my peripheral vision.
“Please, I insist…” I finally glance at the driver to politely decline, but the words catch in my throat. Sitting behind the wheel is Captain America – not in uniform, but in ordinary clothes.
An embarrassed flush creeps up my cheeks. “Actually, that would be nice…” I hurry to the passenger side, opening the door and sliding inside next to him.
“Would it be okay if we stopped by my apartment before I drop you off at yours so you can dry off? You’re soaked to the bone, and it would be awful to let you catch a cold when I’m capable of warming you up.” He asks. I stifle a giggle, and his face flushes crimson. “Oh gosh. O-oh I meant, I didn’t mean to—” he stumbles over his words.
“It’s okay,” I giggle. “I knew what you meant.” Steve falls silent, so I quickly add, “My name’s Y/N Y/L/N. What’s yours?” I ask, hoping to ease his discomfort. I suspect everyone knowing *him* might make him uneasy.
He hesitates, glancing at me skeptically as if checking if I’m lying about not knowing his name. “Steve Rogers, Ma’am.”
“Nice to meet you,” I smile. Steve turns on the car heater, and only then do I realize I’m shivering. He pulls into a parking garage. I hop out of the car, noticing the seat is marked with a water stain. “Sorry… I soaked your seat.” I softly close the door.
“It’s okay. It’s just water. I rarely use my car anyway.” He says. I nod as he leads me to an elevator, taking us to his floor. He guides me to his room. A woman walks past Steve, greeting him with a quick “Hi!” and a suspicious glare at me. Steve lets me into his apartment and asks me to wait in the living room while he disappears into his bedroom, returning with a t-shirt and sweatpants. “I got these as a gift, but they were a bit small…” he says, handing me the clothes. “Hopefully, they’ll fit.”
“Thanks, Steve. Where’s the bathroom if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Right this way.” He leads me to a bathroom before leaving me to change. I slip into the clothes, pulling the drawstrings tight. I place my soaked garments in the sink to prevent water damage. I rejoin Steve in the living room. He’s waiting on the couch with two steaming mugs of tea. I gratefully accept one and sit beside him. “So, what do you want to do now while you warm up?”
“Uh, get to know each other?” I ask hesitantly.
“Sure. You go first?” He says.
“Okay, um, my favorite color is Y/F/C.” I say, sipping the tea.
“Cool! My favorite color is yellow. Not neon or canary yellow, but like a lemon meringue sort of color.” He says.
“Are you an artist?” I ask.
“How did you know?”
I snicker. “You didn’t just say yellow. You said lemon meringue. Most people just name the basic rainbow colors. Not the thousands of shades in between.”
“Oh…” He blushes again.
“At least I knew what you meant, too.” I giggle. “What’s your job?”
“Just a boring office job at Hammer Industries. I’m thinking about quitting, though. I love my boss, Amelia, but the top boss, Mr. Hammer, is an ass.”
“Ah…”
“What about you? What do you do?”
“Um… Let’s just say I’m a preserver of peace…”
“Like an Avenger?” I smirk.
“Y-yeah…” He finally gives in.
“It’s okay, Steve. I won’t tell anyone about this. You deserve your privacy.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” I say. “I think I’ve warmed up now…”
“Oh, okay. Would you like me to get you an Uber or drive you home?” He asks, collecting the mugs.
“Do you think you could drive me? I kind of like spending time with you.” I say sheepishly.
“Sure.” He smiles slightly as he rinses the mugs. I head back to the bathroom to change into my clothes, but they’re still damp. “You can keep those clothes. I’ll never be able to wear them.” Steve peeks his head through the doorframe.
“Thanks.” Steve hands me a plastic bag, and I pack my clothes inside. We walk out of the apartment and back down to the parking garage, getting into Steve’s car. I give him my address, and we drive back to my apartment – surprisingly, only ten minutes.
“Thank you for saving me from the rain and driving me home.” I smile at him. The rain has stopped, revealing a beautiful sunset.
“Of course. I’m glad I met you.” Steve smiles back. I get out of the car, about to close the door when I hear, “Y/N, wait.”
“Yes?” I turn back to the car.
“Can I have your number? So I can call you, or text, whatever works for you.” His face is as red as a tomato.
“Of course.” I hand him my phone, opening the contact page. He does the same, and we exchange numbers. I take a quick selfie to use as my profile picture. I giggle when I see he’s saved himself as “#1 Avenger (Steve Rogers).” “I’ll be looking forward to your text, Steve.” I blush slightly.
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Steve.”