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."

It was hard to turn away and not stare at the rejection on her face when she took the drink and left, but you caught Steve turning to glance over his shoulder for a quick peek too. "Captain Rogers, I thought you never lied."

"I try not to. How did you know?"

"The top of your ears got red."

"Are you serious?" he gasped, covering them quickly with his hands. "I didn't know that!"

"Don't worry, sir, secret's safe with me."

"Thanks. But, before we get started," he smiled, relaxing to rest his hands on the table, "you need to start calling me Steve." When a new drink was set abruptly in front of him by one of the male baristas this time, he pouted and pushed it towards you with a hopeful look in his eyes. "Could you go ask for whipped cream please? I don't think I should go up there now. She looks really mad."

"Who's strong and brave, here to save the American Way? That's the lyric, right?"

"It is."

"Wow, Steve," you huffed, taking his cup and giving in to the little push of his lip that still tried to win you over, "first the cream and now the cowardice? The lies just keep on coming. Not making me feel very confident in this interview."

"Hmm, well, you could talk to my friend Bucky instead, but I'd rather not bring him into this just yet."

"Why not?"

"Because, (Y/N)," he replied, his voice lowering an octave and dropping to a near whisper, "I think I'd like to keep you all to myself."

~~~

Three weeks after that first meeting, you had taken part in two more conversations, and over the course of them had finished your paper. When you told him that your assignment was done, the random texts and phone calls started, not with any real purpose other than to connect with you. Meeting with Steve now wasn't a part of the work anymore, but something that the two of you wanted to do so that you could see each other. It didn't take long at all for the tone to shift; the small touch of him arm when you laughed, or his gentle nudge when you walked side-by-side, quickly became wrapping your arm in his as you strolled through Central Park, and feeling him holding your hand tightly when people stopped him for an autograph or photo as they passed by. On this day, when the final shot was snapped, he pulled you against him and continued your walk, remaining unusually quiet for a few minutes before working up the nerve to bring up a topic that he had been holding off on.

"I think it's time for you to meet everyone."

"What?" you choked out, nearly spitting your coffee down your shirt. "No, I don't think so."

"Why not? If I don't bring you home to meet them soon, they're gonna think that you're not real. You wouldn't want me to suffer through that again, would you?"

"Again?"

"Yeah," Steve groaned, "there was a woman that I had met a few times and had a couple of dates with, but no one believed me when I told them about her. She never met anyone on the team before we stopped talking, so I got stuck with the imaginary girlfriend jokes for like a year."

Girlfriend. The word hung in the air between you heavily, but not in a bad way; it had a nice ring to it, but even after the past few months you still weren't certain if it pertained to you and there was only one way to know for sure. "So, I'm your girlfriend then?"

Steve stopped in his tracks abruptly and turned to you, feeling immediately nervous that he had somehow overstepped his boundaries in assuming that, but nothing came to his mind that would have made him think he was wrong. You had gotten to the point where you were seeing each other almost every day unless he was gone on a mission, and even then, you were always in contact if you couldn't meet. If you weren't his girlfriend, then he was at a total loss as to what you were.

"You are," he replied cautiously, "aren't you?"

"I was hoping so," you smiled in return.

"I'm sorry if I haven't been clear enough about that. I think I know how to make it so that you never have to question it again." With a gentle hand, he lifted your chin and leaned in, his thumb softly caressing your cheek as his lips met yours, lingering longingly there for a moment before pulling back with a soft smile. "Was that clear enough?"

"Hmm, I'm still not convinced," you hummed quietly, "I think you need to try that one more time."

It took no convincing for him to kiss you again, this time with a strong arm wrapped tightly around you, lifting you from the ground despite your squeal of surprise at his sudden aggressiveness. The fingers of his other hand were gripping your hair and holding you close as he deepened the kiss until you lost your breath and had to come up for air. "How about now?" he laughed darkly. "I think any more than that and we'll draw a crowd."

"Challenge accepted."

You hopped up and grabbed his neck, pulling yourself to him to wrap your legs around his waist; he stepped back to balance himself and his foot turned just slightly enough for him to lose his stance and topple you both back onto the ground. He gripped you tighter as to not drop you, but you didn't even flinch, feeling completely safe in his arms.

"Not sorry," you laughed, taking his face in your hands and this time being the one who took control. It didn't take long before his phone was sounding an urgent message and he had to pull back to see who it was.

"Sorry, it's the team alert," he grumbled, taking his phone from his pocket to look, only to groan at the sight and turn it so that you could read the message as well.

Alright, Cap, we get it. This one's real. Your public display of affection is making US uncomfortable.