Fandom: MCU
Pairing: Steve Rogers x female
Words: 680

Steve and I had been good friends since day one, we had always gotten along even if we disagreed on one thing or another, and we always had fun. When he suddenly asked me out, I didn't feel it changed much, but then we finished the prep for his mission and he left.

I had five days to think. I had five days to worry. I always worried when he – or any of the others – was off on a mission, but this was worse. My brain fed me all the worst case scenarios that would end with him never coming back for that date. He'd missed a date in the past by crashlanding a plane and freezing himself for 70 years. His track record was against us. So, I had five days to get my head full of disasters and nerves.

When I sat in the common room with Natasha and Clint on Friday and saw through the window that the Quinjet landed and Steve walked out seemingly unscathed, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was supposed to be at the debriefing in an hour and I went to get ready. But back in my room, the idea of seeing him had me feeling anxious and self-conscious. The reality of our upcoming date made me chicken out. I felt terrible for skipping out on the debriefing, but I convinced JARVIS I was sick and to let everyone know. I'd face any possible consequences on Monday.

All the rest of the day, I skulked in my room and used all my stealth techniques to get food. Come Saturday morning I woke to a text from Steve.

Are you alright? I heard you were sick yesterday. Do you need anything?

My heart did a stupid skip and my hands shook as I replied. I don't know what it was, but I feel better now. Thank you!

Do you feel good enough for our date?

Even if I was more nervous than I'd ever been before a dangerous and difficult mission, I wanted this date more than anything. Of course! Can't wait ;) I dearly hoped I could be as confident in person, as I was in text.

Me neither. Wear something casual, we're not doing anything fancy.

The hours went by too fast and all too sudden I found myself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, all dressed and makeup on, brushing my hair for the tenth time. Steve would be at the door any minute and I just couldn't get my stupid hair to behave. I was almost in tears with frustration when there was a knock on the door.

I took a deep breath, looked at my reflection, and figured Steve had seen me covered in sweat, dirt and blood after not showering for days. This was good enough. I laid down the brush and went to open the door. There he was, dressed casually in jeans, t-shirt and a dark blue jacket.

"Hi," I said breathlessly.

"Hi," he said. "You look good."

"Thanks, so do you."

He blushed, and it was the most adorable thing ever.

"Thanks by the way," I added, "for the casual. I hate dressing up."

"I know, you always make a fuss when Tony throws a fancy party. That's one of the things I like about you." He flinched. "I mean, you look good dressed up, but I like that you're not fancy. I mean..."

"Steve." I laid my hand on his arm. "I know what you mean."

He looked down at my hand on him and I withdrew it, self-conscious again. I went inside to put on my shoes and grab a jacket.

"Where are we going?"

"I had planned to take you to that new French place a couple of blocks down, but then I remember you saying you really like that old-fashioned diner in Brooklyn, and... Well, I like Brooklyn."

I went to close the door and he held out his arm for me. I linked my arm with his and looked up at his blue eyes. "Sounds perfect, Steve."