Work Text:
There were days you truly enjoyed working in the PR department for the Avengers.
Then, there were days like this one.
Usually you had to listen to the gripping of your poor coworker who handled all of Tony's crazy, outrageous behavior.
Now she had to listen to yours.
Well, as soon as you got back to your desk.
Right now, you were tracking down the very man who was causing you so much grief.
The same man who apparently hadn't slept in nearly twenty-four hours and had been quite productive in that time.
Not only had he managed to inundate your voicemail with a bunch of angry messages, but you'd gotten several words from your boss to fix this before it blew up in everyone's face. His pinched brows hadn't brooked any argument, either, as he grumbled about all the overtime he'd have to explain from the IT department. They'd be scrubbing the internet for the next several days.
Before you could hurry off for damage control, your boss handed you a mountain of papers that detailed every single transgression perpetrated by the man you're meant to handle.
Marching toward the common room, you caught the very man you sought at the table. A laptop sat in front of him that highlighted the soft bags under his eyes. His hair appeared quite rumpled from his hands no doubt raking through it several times while he completed the damage he'd done in such a short amount of time.
"Ooh, someone's in trouble," Tony snarked from his spot near the kitchen area. "You're not mine, so I know it's not me this time."
Your stride didn't falter though you lifted your gaze from your target long enough to glare at the man also known as Iron Man. It was enough to have him scurrying from the room.
"Steven Rogers," you slammed the mountain of papers on the table, "what in the world do you think you're doing?"
To his credit, he had the decency to swallow even as his eyes bulged at seeing you so angry at him.
You're never angry at him.
In truth, you never really had occasion to be angry at him.
As his PR handler, he was typically your dream of a handle. He knew how to play it up for the cameras with his old-timeliness. He also knew when to keep barbs for those he disliked out of earshot of reporters and others who could use his words against him.
Plus, he was so easy on the eyes.
The dreams you've had of this man could incinerate that dastardly pile of papers in front of you. Hell, you'd give anything to incinerate them and make this problem magically disappear. You'd much rather live out your fantasies with this man than deal with the mess he'd created.
But you were a professional.
You had to ignore all that right now.
Now, you had to play the bad guy to your dream man even as you worked to find some solution to the mess he created.
"You've been adjusting beautifully, and I commend you on your efforts," you said, earning you one of his proud, charming smiles. Oh, how you loved those smiles when he aimed them at you, but you had to steel yourself, even going so far as to close your eyes when you added, "But you can't troll people on the internet, especially the people you've been trolling for the last day."
"Why not? They're all bullies and spreading hateful lies. Have you read some of the vitriol they're spewing?"
"They're protected by the First Amendment," you remind him, not as harshly as your boss might've wanted, but you did the best you could. Leave it to your handle to want to fight injustice everywhere, including the internet.
While you should absolutely put a stop to his behavior, you had other ideas, especially when he countered, "So do I last I checked. We all have the right to say what we want, sure, but we're not free of the consequences of what we said. Just pointing out how stupid and hateful they sound. I haven't said anything to them that wasn't true or backed up with facts."
You could see how proud he was of himself despite the exhaustion clearly dogging him.
In a lot of ways, you couldn't say you weren't equally as proud, even if he made your job a lot harder. It was about time people reminded others their words have consequences. Who better than the very man who epitomized the ideas of the hope, honor, and justice?
Letting out a soft sigh, you motioned towards the elevators with your head. "Come on, Rogers. You need a nap, and I've got a lot of work to do."
"I'm not done here," he said, his stubborn streak coming out.
Leaning forward, you closed his laptop gently. In a quick, efficient movement, you scooped it up and placed it on top of your paper mountain. Your voice was soft but firm as you said, "You are for now. Let's go, please."
When he raised a brow at you, you shook your head. It took everything not to let yourself smile at his antics. This man really could get away with a lot as you were aware, and he was definitely working his way under your skin.
"I did say please, Steve."
That seemed to work.
His exhaustion overtook any stubbornness that lingered.
Shoving to his feet, he fell into step beside you as the two walked toward the elevator. It didn't take long to reach the common area floor. Nor did it take long to swoop downward towards Steve's private floor of the tower.
When they whooshed open a few moments later, you nodded towards his en-suite. "Get cleaned up, then get some sleep. I'm going to set up and get to work while keeping an eye on you."
"Is that a direct order?" His darn brow cocked again even as his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief.
Oh, this man was TROUBLE, all in capital letters.
"Does it need to be?" you asked, not willing to back down. Two could play this game if that's what he wanted.
His chest swelled a little at seeing your own stubborn streak coming out. Seeing his cheeks flush a bit was quite surprising, too, as he finally shook his head. "Nah, I'll behave for now."
"That's very kind of you."
You watched him walk over to his bedroom area. Those precious seconds gave you plenty of time to appreciate the man moving around his space. You'd heard rumors of him wanting a place to truly call his own, but he'd also found comfort in this space designed solely for him. He didn't have to think twice to grab the clothing he wanted for the next part of his day, aka napping and just relaxing if you had your way.
When he turned toward his bathroom, you averted your eyes in the hopes he wouldn't notice you'd been watching. Your hopes died with the cheeky salute he shot your way before he disappeared behind the bathroom door.
Heat suffused your face, but you rallied yourself.
Since becoming his PR handler, you've seen the number of oglers Steve Rogers got on a given day. You were most likely just another to add to that number in his mind. Sure, you had a little more insider info on him than his average fan, but you refused to let that interfere with your working relationship with the man.
Besides that, you also considered him more friend now than acquaintance due to that working relationship. There was a mutual respect for what you both wanted to accomplish. You wanted to help him showcase the best version of himself while not stifling who he was at his core. It helped that he didn't want to let you down as you worked closely with him, especially in the beginning.
You wouldn't disappoint him now, either.
Even with IT doing most of the heavy lifting, you had your work cut out for you. Starting with the giant pile of papers still in your arms, you'd make sure this small nightmare would blow over. At least, you knew Tony Stark was certain to create another scandal soon enough to help sweep this indiscretion of Steve's under the rug.
Moving further into his quarters, you set the pile and his laptop on the coffee table in front of the sofa. As for you, you settled on the edge of his sofa, leaning over the table. The oversized pile almost taunted you with its sheer volume, but you refused to let it. Picking up his laptop, you knew you'd need to restrict his access temporarily, but you set it aside for the moment. At least until this blew over.
No, for the moment, your focus had to zero on the giant paper stack that needed sorting. Most egregious to least, you'd need to see what kind of damage had been done. Then, you could figure out how to mitigate it or find some way to create an apology or statement that wouldn't overly tarnish Steve's image or his persona as Captain America.
Your progress was going along smoothly when the bathroom door opened again some minutes later.
Figuring he'd settle on his bed, you didn't bother to glance up. It was just as well, too, as he would be sure to distract you in some way.
What you didn't count on was him sliding onto the sofa behind you. You definitely weren't expecting him to curl around you. One of his arms wrapped around your middle and scooted you backward until you rested against him, papers still in your hand.
"I'm working."
"Mhmm, and gonna hurt yourself while doing it. You always sit like that? Not good for your back, you know."
You huffed at his ridiculousness. "Well, now I can't reach the table. I'm going to hurt myself going back and forth. Plus, I'll be here longer than either of us probably want if I work like this."
"I don't mind you sticking around," he said so softly that you almost imagined it.
Yet, when your gaze met his where it rested on the armrest, you couldn't find any insincerity there. He wasn't teasing you, either, which surprised you a little bit. Most guys would make this a joke to turn around on you if you took him up on it, but nothing in Steve's expression gave you that impression. No, he appeared quite content to have you right where you were.
You didn't get the chance to say anything as he leaned forward suddenly. One hand grabbed the corner of his table as he said, "Cross your legs under you, sweetheart."
When you did, he tugged the table until the smallest gap remained between it and his sofa.
His grin was all too pleased as he turned back to you, his brow rising in challenge.
"You win this time, Rogers," you muttered even as you bit your lip to keep your smile at bay. It wouldn't do this man any good to know he had an effect on you. Clearing your throat, you kept your gaze on the papers in your hands as you softly commanded he get some sleep.
"Always do since I met you," he mumbled, already succumbing to sleep.
That grabbed your attention and had your gaze skittering towards his closed eyes and softening features. He looked so much younger like this and not nearly as weary as the world seemed to exact from him. The burden of keeping everyone safe slid off his shoulders as he drifted further into sleep. His arm remained around your middle, his fingers twitching now and then.
Over the next few hours, you worked quietly as Steve slept. Every so often, he'd twitch or grow a bit restless, but a couple soft words had him instantly calming down again. REM sleep kept his eyes moving at lightning speed, causing you to wonder briefly what he dreamed about. Most of you hoped they were good dreams with a small part also wishing you featured now and again.
Shaking those dangerous thoughts quickly, you silently reprimanded yourself and got back to work. Soon enough, you had the pile of papers stacked into smaller sections. Most contained small notes you jotted to yourself on how to lessen his words' impact on their recipient.
The most surprising had been how little he'd actually full-out attacked them with insulting names or sheer emotion. Every one of his 'attacks' had more than a little grain of truth to them. He'd gone so far for most to back up why he was right with article after article. He'd done a lot in the past twenty-four hours, which was most surprising with the sheer amount of people he called out with all his facts clearly lined out, too. Even the most seasoned trolls you knew or encountered couldn't come up with half as many as Steve had.
With the papers out of the way, you took the opportunity to wake his laptop, quickly typing in his credentials. Standard but encrypted information that all handlers had on their handles within the Avengers. It took moments for his laptop to boot back to life and open up where he'd left off.
A quick check of his search history revealed he'd only opened up one social media account. He had others for sure as all the Avengers did, but those weren't handled by them so much as they were you and the other handlers. Sometimes, they had access, but your team mostly kept those under tight wraps for this reason alone.
How he'd gotten access to this social, you didn't know yet, but you would. Then, you'd make sure he stayed out of it. It wouldn't do to see him banned from all social platforms when he was part of the Avengers. That was a scandal none of you needed, and you would make sure it didn't happen.
You didn't realize he'd stirred or that he'd been watching you as you worked on his laptop. Not until his arm tightened around your middle dragging you even closer into him as he murmured, "How much did I screw up your day?"
"Not too much." You bit back a grin at seeing and feeling him stretch behind you. His arm never left its place around you even as he straightened into a more comfortable position. "I'll have everything fixed probably by end of day."
"Anything I can do to make it up to you?"
"Stay out of your socials until I can teach you how to properly troll without getting caught. That'll help me out a lot."
That pulled a chuckle from him. "I'll do my best."
"Don't make me take your laptop with me."
His free hand came up in a surrendering gesture even as his other tugged you closer to him. His features shifted into a small frown as he mumbled, "Do you have to go? Was thinking about getting food from that place you like down the street. Maybe catch up on my movie list with my new free time."
"Are you fishing for some company, Rogers?"
He nodded once. "Yeah, yours. Is it working?"
"You've been taking lessons from Bucky again, haven't you? Or is it Sam this time?"
"Sam may have given me a few new pointers," he whispered, his lips curving at the corners. "Bucky refuses to help me anymore. Says I'm too hopeless at this point."
"No one's hopeless. Least of all, you."
Leaning over, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
"Food sounds good as does a movie, but only after I get my work done. That includes your lesson in anonymous trolling."
Hearing you agree to his idea while setting your own terms seemed to mollify him. Steve pressed deeper into the sofa, making sure you also maintained your own level of comfort against him. Contentment draped over his form in the way he fully relaxed, prepared to wait as long as you needed.
"So, tell me, sweetheart, where did you learn to troll?"
You flashed him a mischievous grin. "I grew up in the early days of the internet, but my trolling days were spent mostly messing with one person. He's the reason I got the job with the Avengers' PR department. Before you ask, he only found out it was me because I wanted him to."
Steve's laughter vibrated through you.
"I'm looking forward to learning from a true master."
And he did.
You made sure of that.