The girl from legal

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Written by Mckayla (steveromanov) on Archive of our own.

Steve may be a little in love with the new girl in legal

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Steve may be a little in love with the new girl in legal.

Keyword: may.

He also may have told his best friend this while they were procrastinating at the watercooler on one dull, Monday afternoon.

There is no keyword here. He actually did tell him that. And he actually immediately regretted it, because not only does Bucky's girlfriend also work in legal, he is also totally, completely smitten with her. Like, I-tell-you-everything-because-we-gossip-like-an-old-couple smitten. Not only that, but ever since Steve's last girlfriend dumped him a year ago, Darcy has made it her personal duty to find him another—against every exhausted I don't want a girlfriend and I'm fine and Seriously, Darce, cut it out that he gave her in protest.

Darcy is as persistent as she is genuine, though, so.

Steve's fucked.

Because what Darcy has in persistence and genuineness, she lacks in subtlety. And besides Bucky, who really shouldn't be counted because he's her boyfriend, Steve is Darcy's only male friend. Hence, the only guy she could be trying to set the new girl up with when (there's no if, because Darcy definitely will try, and fail, and has Steve mentioned that he's fucked?) she approaches her. And the thing is, the new girl's smart. She'll figure out that it's Steve right off the bat.

Her name's Natasha, he learned only because Darcy had told him.

He first ran into her the Friday before his regrettable discussion with Bucky at the watercooler, and by "ran", he means literally. He was in a rush to get to his twelve o'clock meeting and was flipping through the many files he was carrying in search for the right one when bam—he smacked right into what was unmistakably a body, coffee flying up in the air and raining down all over his files, dress shirt, and, embarrassingly enough, the crotch of his slacks.

He almost lost his patience and snapped. Almost.

But then he looked up and saw her. She was breathtakingly gorgeous, with hair the color of juicy, ripe strawberries. He couldn't even be mad that, somehow, he had absorbed every drop of coffee that had been split while she, in her form-fitting black dress and heels, looked as if she had just stepped out of a goddamn magazine, not an ounce of coffee on her. He wasn't even mad at the fact that he'd have to completely miss his meeting because he smelt like brew and hazelnut creamer. In hindsight, he's only mad at the fact that instead of apologizing he stood there like a fucking idiot, staring at the slightly amused woman in front of him, his mouth hanging open to let all the flies in.

And then he'd bolted without uttering a word, turning around and moving as fast as he could down the hall without actually running.

Yeah, he's pretty mad about that too.

But mostly he's mad at Bucky and Darcy—and the fact that he actually isn't as mad at them as he probably should be.

God, he's such a good friend. And he really should get some new ones.

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