Chris Evans: Short Stories and Imagines

meet cute: target

summary: your first night in America and you unexpectedly bump into chris evans at a local Target

warnings: marshmallow fluff

-:-

America is nothing like Germany or any other country you've visited in the past. Aside from economic differences and views in politics, you find that everyone here is generally accepting, a bit aggressive, but kind enough to overshare their thoughts. There is a jovial atmosphere that you find yourself attesting to and then there's also the glaring culture shock that assaults you left right and center. It has definitely been a happy adjustment.

"Becky Jane price check to cash five! Becky Jane price check to cash five." A woman hollers over the intercom as you and your good friend, Mia giggle down the aisles. You are in America visiting her for the first time after a long time. She's well settled, attending UMass, living her best life and you couldn't be any happier for her.

"So what should we make for dinner?" She turns to ask you.

"Anything is fine with me, I mean it's getting kind of late now and I'd be okay with cereal." You point to a box of Cocopuffs and your friend shakes her head.

"That's not the first meal you're having in America Y/N." She chides you before coming up with one of her better ideas. "C'mon let's go over to the produce section, we can grab some ingredients for my world famous spinach and feta lasagna!"

You laugh but a part of you is tempted to stay, still enticed by the large array of sugary breakfast cereals. "Actually you go on ahead I wanna look around here for a bit."

Your friend rolls her eyes. "Fine if you're really hellbent then we can have cereal for dessert. How does that sound?"

"Perfect." You smile at her as she shakes her head and trolleys down the narrow aisle way.

There are so many options and while standing in the middle of the aisle you can't help but take in the rows of corrugated and colorful boxes, all brandishing a character or mascot of some sort. You finally settle on one box, reach over to grab it but then come up short when another hand does the same. You gasp and unsubtly retreat in unison, there's that assurgency that parallels your feelings of embarrassment and awkwardness.

"Oh I'm sorry!" You say before getting a better look at the man standing right next to you.

"No that's alright." He chuckles as your eyes shamelessly widen. It's him. The all American ass man himself, Chris Evans. He seems unreal. A simulation almost as he's idling around in a fitted red plaid flannel, dark blue jeans and a NASA cap that has seen better days.

"You can have it."

"Er, um, are you sure?" You ask and he nods, playfully bouncing his brows at you with an immobilizing grin.

"Yeah I can settle for something else." He eyes the shelf and then picks out a box of Special K, fibrous and healthy.

"Oh no don't, here take it." You joust him with the box and his head drops, laughing softly.

"It's fine. I'm better off with this stuff anyways." He says while sticking around, edging for some more conversation as his eyes inconspicuously drinks you up. You bob your head up and down and purse your lips, flustered to even properly smile at the actor who looks proportionally the same in person, if not even more breathtaking.

"I'm Chris by the way. But I'm sure you already knew that." He states out loud and you nod slightly while closely holding onto the last box of Captain Crunch. "And you must be?"