Just Steve

T W E N T Y - T H R E E

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yea, it'll be fine. Although, I think my credibility for determining what's a good or bad idea went out the window when I got pregnant from what was supposed to be a one night stand."

Steve laughed, reaching for (Y/n)'s hand as they walked into an Italian restaurant downtown. She had informed him yesterday that she had made plans to meet up with her mother, and that she was hoping he would come along. Apparently, (Y/n) was under the impression that she might be able to smooth things over with her mother if she just met Steve in person and talked things through. Steve, however, was thoroughly unconvinced.

They were fifteen minutes early for their reservation, as (Y/n) had insisted that they should arrive before her mom, to make a good impression. Even so, he saw a look of relief on (Y/n)'s face when the waiter led them to their table and she was able to confirm they had beaten her mother there. Steve took the seat next to hers, his anxiety gradually increasing the longer they waited. Nodding along distractedly as (Y/n) started debating the pros and cons of which pasta she wanted to order, he brainstormed different things he could say to her mom that might help win him some favor with her.

Steve had never done the whole, 'meet the parents thing' before. He had a feeling he would have been nervous no matter what the situation was, but knowing that (Y/n)'s mother already disapproved of him made it all the more nerve-wracking. He felt like nothing he could say would be good enough to make her approve of him. Reaching up to his neck, Steve straightened his tie back and forth anxiously, trying to find the perfect knot.

(Y/n) seemed to notice he was struggling and reached over moving his hands out of the way.

"Don't worry, okay? Everything's going to be fine," she said, loosening the knot that Steve had managed to pull all the way up to his chin, without realizing.

"I told my mom to be on her best behavior and she promised me she would be. I just want her to see the real you. I mean the you that I see, not just the guy in the uniform she sees on TV."

When she finished loosening the knot, she leaned in, kissing the side of his shoulder gently before resting her head on it.

"Just be yourself and she won't be able to resist. I really think that if the two of you just talk she'll be able to see that you're a guy who won't hurt me. That you're a guy she can trust."

She reached her hand underneath the table to find his own, giving it a gentle squeeze in reassurance. The momentary comfort her words brought dissipated slightly and was quickly replaced by an overwhelming and all too familiar sense of guilt. It had been over two weeks since he had made his promise to Peter and yet he still had not told (Y/n) about the contract. As (Y/n) continued to rest her head on his shoulder, Steve's thoughts drifted to his failed attempt to come clean the week before.

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Steve stood outside the door to (Y/N)'s room. As much as he didn't want to, it was time to tell her everything. And it wasn't just because of Peter finding out, he was tired of keeping this secret from her. There was a possibility that he would tell her and she would want nothing to do with him anymore. This was a possibility that terrified him, almost enough to prevent him from going through with it. Instead he tried to focus on the more optimistic outlook, and hope that because he wasn't asking her to sign the contract, just telling her that Tony had pushed for its creation, that she would be maybe a little bit disappointed but understanding.

Raising his fist, Steve knocked on the door. He waited a moment but didn't hear a response so he slowly cracked the door open, peering inside. (Y/n) was on her bed, notebooks, highlighters, and binders, spread out everywhere, as she intensely scribbled. Loud music blared from her headphones, which Steve figured had been the reason for her not hearing his knock, moments ago. Seeing he had entered the room (Y/n) paused the music, pulling off the headphones with one hand, while still writing with the other.