Work Text:
So Steve Rogers, America’s own golden boy, was alive. A man out of time. An invisible person yourself, shuffling papers in the background of the people who were actually important, you thought he looked sad when no one could see him. You’re not even sure you had ever even seen him smile when it wasn’t the expected press smile that completed the golden boy image. You saw the moments of frustration when technology that no one bothered to explain to him confounded him. The flickers of sadness when he was left out of some joke based on pop culture references that, even if he had seen, he wasn’t familiar enough with to catch the joke quickly. The moments of exclusion that no one else noticed because he projected an air of calm, of competency, of fine . As someone who didn’t alway fit the crowd herself due to old-fashioned tastes, your heart went out to him. But who were you, the invisible one, to reach out to him? To insert yourself into the life of one of the most famous people in the country, even to help? You saw him now, bored, just as others in the room were, as Mr Stark and Agent Barton argued back and forth about– honestly, you didn’t even know anymore. You’re not sure if they even knew anymore, going back and forth, making no progress and they repeated the same arguments over and over.
“I just told you that,” Stark would say.
“NO, you didn’t say that. If you had said that, I might have understood what we’re talking about. Instead you keep saying the same thing, and I still don’t know what we’re doing,” Barton argued back
“You don’t know! How else do you want me to say it?”
“I don’t know!”
“Third base,” you deadpanned from your corner, practically on reflex. Everyone stopped and looked at you in bewilderment, with absolutely no idea how that was relevant.
“What did you say,” Stark asked, confusion, and a bit of anger, written on his face.
“Third base.” Nerves started to wriggle in your stomach. What had possessed you to get in the middle of their conversation?
There were empty, blinking stares from around the room, until slowly a single snicker was heard. The snicker turned into a chuckle, then into a full belly laugh as Steve Rogers himself pushed away from the table to bend over in uproarious laughter, arm moving to hold his stomach as he just kept laughing. His reaction couldn’t help but make you smile and chuckle a bit yourself, as everyone’s attention turned from you to the laughing man. They looked even more bewildered now than they had before. Eventually, Rogers’ laughing slowed down, and with a final laughing exhale, he straightened up, tears of joy in the corners of his eye.
“What was that?!” Barton demanded.
“Sorry,” you responded, ”movie reference. I guess you just had to have seen it.”
The next look of confusion sparked another round of laughter for you and Rogers, as they were on the receiving end of his daily life. Eventually, Stark and Barton decided to ignore you both and continue their discussion, but after the meeting, the captain approached you a little shyly.
“So, Abbott and Costello… bit before your day, wasn’t it?”
“Box sets exist for a reason, Captain Rogers. I grew up watching them.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Would you want to watch a couple with me some time? Movies are always better with company.”
“I’ll bring popcorn.”
It didn’t hit you until after you had set a date and time for the movie marathon, and he had walked away. Did I just ask Captain America on a date? You caught a last glimpse of him as he walked out of sight. Well, you guess it’s about time for you to straighten up your knitting anyway.