IMAGINES: CAPTAIN AMERICA

Smile

"Hello, Agent Lake."

Two men in dark vests greeted me, and I, with a silly smile, nodded back at them. They probably knew everything already too. It was around midnight, and the building was almost empty. I approached the elevator and pressed the call button. It arrived and stopped with its characteristic chime. I stepped inside and pressed the button for his floor. Now, music plays in the elevators, and I think it really makes the ride more pleasant. He was right.

The elevator stopped on my floor, and I entered the hallway, almost bumping straight into Thor's broad chest.

"Hey, little one!" he greeted me, gently holding my elbow to keep me from falling. "Going to your man?"

To my man. How strange that sounds now, but it's so pleasant, I want to savor every letter: "t-o m-y m-a-n."

"Yes," I replied, with that silly smile still on my face.

That smile just wouldn't leave me, all because of Steve. Ever since I became his, and he became mine, no other expressions seemed to appear on my face except for this silly, childlike smile.

After patting me on the shoulder, Thor stepped into the elevator and left me alone in the hallway. Adjusting my black jacket, I walked—or maybe ran, I wasn't sure—quickly to his room.

An annoying sound echoed across the entire floor, signaling that the magnetic door to the apartment was open. Biting my lip in embarrassment—I still wasn't used to being here and announcing my arrival to everyone—I quickly slipped into the room. Or rather, you couldn't really call Steve's place a "room." All the top agents, like Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, and Steve Rogers, had giant apartments. They had multiple bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, a bathroom, and an amazing view of nighttime New York from panoramic windows.

Steve was usually content with less, so his apartment was just one bedroom and a living room combined with the kitchen.

As I closed the door behind me, I was a bit surprised: all the lights were off. Kicking off my shoes, I tiptoed into the bedroom. Steve was asleep on white sheets, his arms sprawled wide, taking up the whole bed.

He's so beautiful.

I thought, leaning against the doorframe. The perfect man—strong arms, long legs... How did I manage to catch his eye? Me, with my freckled nose and my five-foot frame...

This question would come up in my mind from time to time, but despite that, I wasn't afraid. I wasn't afraid this was some game. I knew my feelings were real, just as Steve's were. I fell in love with him as a child, when I was just a little girl. I saw his picture in a museum, and that was it—I was gone. And when I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and met Rogers in person, I knew he was perfect, and my love for him was real.

I could probably have stood there for another hour or more, but Steve woke up. He slowly rolled onto his back, opened his eyes, and sleepily looked in my direction.

"Hey," he mumbled drowsily, "have you been standing there long?"

"No, just a couple of minutes."

"Come to bed, love, we've got a big day tomorrow."

At that moment, my silly smile grew even wider, probably like the Cheshire Cat's. It was the first time Steve had called me that—love.

"Of course, my love," I replied, happily jumping onto the bed like a child who had just received their long-awaited treat.