Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

History Lessons (Rogers x reader)

The reflection in the mirror was you, and you knew it as you looked back, but there was a fear in your eyes that you couldn't clear away no matter how you changed your thoughts. Your hands were still shaking and your stomach was tied in knots; you weren't one to get this nervous, especially just because of homework, but this was no ordinary project. This project had evolved into the chance to meet Steve Rogers and get rare first-hand experience about World War II; it was a guaranteed 'A' on the final paper that you would have to write before college was finally over.

"Knock it off, (Y/N)," you scolded yourself sharply. "You're gonna ruin this for us if you can't get your shit together. Just think of him as Steve, not as Captain America. Just Steve."

"You're the one meeting Steve Rogers?" a meek voice came from one of the stalls behind you. "You should probably get out there, he looked like he was about to leave."

"Oh, no! Okay, thank you!" you called out to the mystery voice, running out into the coffee shop with your nerves worse than ever and praying to yourself that you hadn't missed him. A fast scan of the room didn't show him at first, but when you finally found him you wondered how you had even missed someone so perfect. Now, it was impossible for you to see anything else.

"Captain Rogers," you finally choked out, your voice cracking under the strain, "over here!"

"Hey, (Y/N)!" he called back readily. He pushed his way through the sections of tables that were shoved too close together and cutting into the line of people waiting to place their order. You couldn't help but notice that no one said a word when he excused himself, uncharacteristic to say the least for a cramped and crowded midtown coffee shop. It would appear that Captain America could do pretty much anything he wanted and people were totally okay with it.

"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting," you paused, taking his outstretched hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." He shook your hand politely but kept a firm grip long after the point that he should have released you. When you finally disconnected, you let out a faint groan at the realization that your stupid palms were sweating. "Should we...um...grab a seat somewhere? I promise to not take up too much of your time, I'm sure that you're very busy."

"You can have all the time that you need from me, ma'am. I've cleared my day for this, so I'm all yours..." he stopped, grimacing as the flush in his cheeks quickly spread, "...I mean...I'm available for whatever you want of me...or...no...you have my undivided attention," he sighed, finally satisfied with his response. "Please, after you," he smiled, waving you to a nearby table.

"Okay, so I really only have a few questions to get the conversation going," you explained, taking your seat opposite of him, "I'm hoping to get a more realistic account of what happened through your experience rather than just shooting topics at you for the next two hours."

"Here you go, Cap. I hope that it's to your liking. I made the whipped cream myself, with a little something special just for you," the barista greeted, setting his order on the table in front of him with a coy smile that left you unimpressed and frankly, annoyed that she would be so blatant when you were sitting right there. You could tell that she had freshened up her lip gloss and unbuttoned the top of her shirt a few extra buttons before she approached him, and it left you filled with second-hand embarrassment for the guy. Not that you had any claim on him in the least, but she could at least have some self-respect.

Steve could sense your discomfort, not allowing the display to go on any further when this was your time with him and he wanted you to know that he took that very seriously. He promptly picked up the cup, not even bringing it to his lips to try whatever special thing she had done with it, handing it back to the woman with a stern expression before looking back to you. "I don't like whipped cream."