I Wish You Could Be Honest Chapter Six: Leaving is Only For the Faint of Heart
HYDRA didn’t die out when it failed to take down S.H.I.E.L.D. during the time of the Winter Soldier. Now, top enemy agent Y/N L/N has been sent to finish the job by killing Steve Rogers. When she’s captured by S.H.I.E.L.D., she doesn’t know what to expect, but it certainly doesn’t involve Captain America himself trying to win her over.
Moore leaves soon enough, and you’re alone on the balcony once more. You turn back to the landscape before you, hoping for something to distract you from the relentless surge of thoughts all crawling down your throat, but even the sky and sun can’t ease your mind anymore. The sunset has finished, the colors are gone. All that’s left is the gradual growing dark of night.
Steve comes back about five minutes later. You have to hand it to him, he tries hard to get you talking anymore, but the charm of your previous conversation has been lost. You feel restless, like you’re a junior agent on her first mission instead of the battle-hardened spy that you’re supposed to be. What happened to make you like this? Who stole your courage like a pickpocket snatching a purse?
You know, of course. Moore coming to tell you about the impending break-out attempt should have lifted your spirits, but it’s just sunk you back down into a wealth of shadows. You knew you would be leaving at some point, or you hoped as much, but now that you’re face to face with the truth, you almost don’t know what to do with yourself.
It’s good news, though. It’s meant to be good news. When Steve gives up and walks with you back to your cell, you force your mind to parade through every happy thing awaiting you back at the HYDRA base. Clean clothes that are actually yours and not just borrowed from the S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms. Your best weapons. The friends you’ve made. The promotion that’s awaiting you, or at least the familiar burn of a chastisement. Everything about the organization that’s been your life for the past few years.
Yet, when you shut your eyes, alone in your cell once more, you do not see the faces of your boss, nor your coworkers, or even yourself. You see the blond man sitting before you, how he tilts his head back when he laughs and squints his eyes shut as if he can’t even believe himself for thinking what’s been said is funny, let alone you too.
This illusion of your mind shrugs his shoulders, tips his bottle forward against yours then draws it back just as quickly for a drink. He does not know you’re going, and he won’t, not ever. You can keep a secret, even if you don’t know how to keep it from yourself.
There’s a security camera in the corner, it is watching you with a relentless stare. You sit up slightly, staring it dead in the eyes. Who’s the agent on the other side, looking back at you? Is it someone you’ve hurt? Is it any one of the other friends you made before you betrayed them all when HYDRA reared its head? Hell, is it Steve? Did he see your furrowed brows and wonder what you were hiding from him?
The red recording light blinks once as if in acknowledgement, then shuts off completely. In the weeks you’ve spent in this cell, that has never happened once, not even when Steve was talking to you outside of the interrogation. It stayed on all along.
You stand slowly, wavering as blood rushes to your legs. Moments later, the door to your cell clicks open, a precise sort of sound like the whir of a machine. Your head jerks towards it, your hands clenched into fists. The lights click on about half a second later, revealing Moore standing in the doorway.
He raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “You can calm down, L/N. We’re skipping town, so if you’re attacking anyone, it shouldn’t be me.”
You force your shoulders to relax, but there’s still a churning sort of nerves messing up the rest of you. “What happened to waiting it out? I thought we weren’t leaving for a while. Has something happened?”
Moore shakes his head, casually strolling further in the room so he can pretend to check out the room like a potential buyer on a reality TV show. “That was so you would take it easy, like you should be doing now. If I told you that we were going tonight, you would have reacted accordingly. We can’t have you communicating anything to Captain America or his trusty thugs, even by accident. What, did you want to give him a little goodbye kiss?”
You walk closer to Moore, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing just enough that he squirms in your grip like a fish out of water. “I’m going to suggest you stop talking and just get me out, or I’m going to tear your arms off.”
Moore laughs nervously, although he does a quick sidestep out of your reach the second he can. He works his shoulder with a free hand, grimacing. “So pleasant, Agent. I can see why you have so many friends.”
At a sharp glance from you, he sighs. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.”
You follow him out of your cell, but you only make it a few steps outside before he stops walking again.
“Another detour?” You ask. “Why, are the security cameras on a loop or something?”
Moore has the bravery to scoff. “What? No, I know what I’m doing. No one can hear or see us unless they decide to take a trip down to the incarceration block for a fun nighttime activity.”
You give him a pointed look. “Then why are we stopping?”
Moore pulls a stack of key cards out of his pocket, handing half to you. “I’ve ordered some cell rearrangements. Everyone in this hall is a member of HYDRA. If we’re doing one jailbreak, we’re doing them all.”
You nod, grabbing the cards. Moore walks past you to the other end of the hall and begins to unlock another door. You were in the cell on the far left, so you move one door over and swipe a card against the lock. It opens with that same mechanical click, revealing an agent tied to a chair in the dead center of the room.
You recognize her, having seen this very same agent when you first arrived at the S.H.I.E.L.D. cell block. It’s Henrietta Clarke, the woman Steve took you to visit in the hopes of seeing whether you’d rat out anyone in HYDRA if given a chance at freedom. You hadn’t revealed her then, but upon coming face to face with her again, you can’t help but remember Steve’s words.
He had said that you were the only HYDRA agent who had refused to turn in a fellow agent, contrary to what you had been told in the past. It’s HYDRA principle to never betray your coworkers, yet not one of your captured agents had ever played by that rule. Steve could have been lying, of course, but you’ve memorized his tells like a gambler memorizing the day’s lotto numbers. You know when Steve is lying, and he wasn’t lying then.
You push the thought out of your head. You don’t have time to think about Steve, not now. If you’re captured at this point, no amount of tricks will save you from a true interrogation. You’ve been offered an olive branch, and you need to use it to escape now. If Steve finds out about your attempt to flee, he’ll never offer you the same kindness again.
You reach for the dummy S.H.I.E.L.D. badge on your arm, removing the hidden blade in one crisp movement. As you saw at Clarke’s restraints, though, you can’t force your thoughts from Steve any longer. Moore wasn’t wrong about the date change for the break-out. If you had known that you were leaving tonight, you would have–
Well, what would you have done? Would you have told Steve that you were leaving, would you have hoped for a goodbye? Not a chance. Steve is still your enemy, even if you think you can share drinks with him on a sunny afternoon. There is no future that doesn’t involve the two of you gunning for each other, and no amount of jokes and false pretenses can change that.
It’s over now, it’s done. This hasn’t been one of the worst lies you’ve told, and if you’re going to be honest with yourself, you might even miss it on late nights when the solitude of a spy’s life gets to you. Maybe you’ll reminisce whenever you see a man who smiles with eyes even half that blue, or when you delude yourself into thinking that you’ll ever be more than a killer. One man thought that you could be more than just yourself, and you’re proving him wrong right now.
You tug through the last of Clarke’s restraints with a savage tug of your blade, and she stands up. You can’t return her relieved smile, just slap another key card into her palm and tell her to start letting people out. You open door after door, and eventually, you meet up with Moore and a dozen or so newly freed agents.
From there, it’s relatively simple. Moore must have been planning this operation with other HYDRA agents for a while, because he’s got everything under lock. You can admit that much, even though you still think the guy’s a greasy asshole who’s far less slick than he thinks.
He manages to get you back your uniform and guns, too, even though your belongings are probably covered in trackers and have to be ditched soon enough. Well, the thought counts. Moore has identified specific corridors that are monitored by dead cameras, and you and your entourage of liberated HYDRA agents dash through the hallways as quickly as you can.
You’re running on adrenaline and the hope that you’ll get out soon, so when Moore starts directing you further into the S.H.I.E.L.D. complex instead of towards the doors leading out, you can’t help but feel frustrated.
You catch up to him, and mutter under your breath as you run. “Excuse my confusion, but I thought we were supposed to be leaving, not staying around even longer. Shouldn’t we be going the other direction?”
Moore smirks. “That’s if we’re going immediately, yes. We still have a shot to finish your mission.”
Something like ice starts to claw its way out of your stomach, freezing around your heart and crawling up your throat to tip your tongue with cold. “What does that mean?”
He chuckles. “Oh, come on. We’ll never get a chance like this again. Steve Rogers is going to come out of that door over there in approximately thirty seconds, and he’ll never be able to take on all of us, not when we have surprise on our side. I bet you twenty he doesn’t even have his shield with him.”
You turn to face him slowly. “We’re killing him now?”
This is too much. You were barely pulling yourself together when you thought you were leaving Steve with nothing, but now? You try to visualize what is about to happen. Steve comes walking out of those doors, coasting on the feeling of being safe for once in his life. He isn’t watching his back. He doesn’t have to, not in his own base.
What will happen when he sees you, out of your cell and surrounded by your own men? Will you watch those sky blue eyes flash with surprise, then grow cold when he realizes that you’ve betrayed him? You are the primary agent here, even though Moore’s been leading this rescue operation for a while. You will be the one expected to take your gun and pull the trigger.
It will be your hands stained with red, then. It will be your bullet piercing Steve’s skull. He will fall dead at your feet, because you never miss and you certainly won’t when he’s so close to you. Will you wait for him to realize the situation before you take the shot, or will you save yourself the torment of watching him understand, and kill him before he knows you’ve turned traitor once again?
All this flashes before your eyes in the space of about half a second. You blink, hard, to clear away the vision of Steve lying dead at your feet, and the linoleum clears itself of blood in about half a second. You have killed many times before, and murdered people far more innocent than Steve. You were ready to assassinate him weeks ago. You can do it again. You have no other choice but to do it again.
But Moore is shaking his head.
“No, not this time, I’m afraid. We’ll do it eventually, of course, but he’s been so open to you that it’s got me thinking. Why cut off a perfectly good lead if you can keep using it? I’m thinking we take Rogers back with us to base, glean every piece of information we can, then shut him up once and for all. I mean, I’ve been undercover here for a while, and they only let me know so much. I can’t imagine the wealth of knowledge Rogers is sitting on, and if he shares even half of it, we’re golden.”
You let out a slow breath, feeling oddly relieved. “Alright, then. Shoot to wound?”
Moore considers this, then frowns, disagreeing. “Why bother? The noise would only alert people. We surround him, maybe rough him up a bit to get him to surrender, then knock him cold. We’ve got enough people that we can get him out without too much fuss. There’s a vehicle parked right out that door.”
You nod. “You’ve certainly planned this out well.”
It’s a statement of judgment, but Moore just seems pleased by it. “Yes, I have. Gratitude looks good on you.”
You’re not certain that you’re grateful in the slightest, but you don’t have time to unpack that, because the doors at the far end of the hall are opening and Steve Rogers is stepping out into the corridor. As the door shuts behind him, he freezes slightly, noticing that there’s a crowd of people where there should be nothing but empty rooms.
His eyes meet yours, flash to the people around you, then back to you again. He tilts his head back slightly, knowingly. “I suppose there’s no way I can convince you to go back to your cells, then?”
Moore laughs, the sound strangely discordant as it echoes off the half empty walls. “Not a chance. Stand down, Rogers. We’ve got you outnumbered.”
Steve shakes his head once. “Not the way I see it.”
Despite Steve’s bravado, Moore isn’t wrong. Steve may be a supersoldier, but even he can’t take on more than a dozen HYDRA agents that have been spending the last few weeks or even months biding their time for a chance to strike. He puts up a good fight, but there’s nothing he can do.
Eventually, he’s forced to the ground, his hands on his head. Moore rummages around in his pack for a syringe, and you find yourself standing directly in front of Steve, looking down at him.
Steve’s gaze is unwavering, and you feel the need to speak, anything to get this sudden, looming weight off of your chest. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. You knew I was a bad guy all along. It’s not my fault if you wanted to believe something different.”
Steve’s expression doesn’t change for a heartbeat. “I don’t believe it anymore.” He says, and you rear back for just a second as if he’s slapped you.
At the same time, Moore, having located the syringe at last, jams the tip into Steve’s neck and pushes in the plunger, releasing the sedative. Steve’s eyes shut in a matter of seconds, but you swear you can still feel his gaze burning holes into your head.
Moore looks up at you triumphantly. “Well, we did it. Mission accomplished, I’d say.”
You smile back feebly, and you don’t think it’s ever been harder to fake such a simple expression. “Mission accomplished,” you repeat.
This is supposed to be a celebration, a chance for you to finally go home, but you can’t seem to stop one question from replaying in your head, again and again until you think you might go mad:
You loved your dog, you golden retriever named Blue but sometimes you could swear that he was a shit just for the hell of it. He’s been driving you absolutely up the wall today. First he’d woken you up far too early, on a weekend acceptable get up time was after 9:30 but apparently Blue had decided that 8:15 was late enough and you’d woken to a slobbery lick to your face. Honestly, pretty gross.
Then he’d barked through almost your entire shower, which was rude but not as rude as him trying to actually get in the shower with you.
Then he’d wanted to play, you’re pretty sure that he took out every single toy in his toy basket and dropped them at your feet while you tried to make breakfast. You’d tripped over them more than once and stubbed a toe on one of the bones.
“Okay. Oh my god you adorable pain in the ass. Let’s go to the dog park.” You tell him and he bounds to his leash. You tug your shoes on then put on his harness and clip the leash to it. Then it’s off to the dog park you go, Blue doesn’t pull too much just enough where you walk at almost a jog to get you to the dog park.
Once you’re inside the fenced area you let him off the leash and he takes off running. You follow at a slower pace but Blue always comes back to check in with you before running off again.
At one point Blue finds another golden retriever and come sprinting over to you barking happily. The other dog flings themself against your legs nearly toppling you to the ground. You laugh as you bury your fingers in their fur.
“Lib! I’m so sorry.” A male voice calls, you look up and are astounded by the man in front of you. He’s gotta be a model or something, sandy blonde hair, bright blue eyes, a blue workout shirt that clings to his torso like a second skin and a pair of dark blue workout pants.
“It’s fine.” You tell him with a smile, “what’s their name?”
“Steve.” He says and you’re confused, you could’ve sworn he called the dog Lib.
“How old is he?”
“What?”
“Your dog.” You say as you watch the two chase each other around.
“She, Libby is 3.”
“Oh sorry, I thought you said your dog’s name was Steve.”
“Oh. Um no I’m Steve.” He says and you glance up at him with a smile, his ears are turning red and god it’s adorable. You introduce yourself,
“And that is Blue.” You tell him, “He’s also 3. He just turned 3 last week.”
“No way,” Steve sounds surprised, “So did Libby. On Tuesday.”
“What? Blue too! Could they be from the same litter?”
“Totally possible, I got her from Nebula.”
“Me too!” You’re stunned, you’ve just found Blue’s sister and her super hot dad. “No wonder they get along so well.”
“We should trade numbers. So we can meet up here and let them play more often. If you’re comfortable with that.” He adds quickly.
“That would be great.” You tell him before digging your phone out of your pocket. You unlock it and pass it to him as he passes you his phone then you type in your name and number before handing it back.
You let Blue and Libby play for over an hour before you say goodbye to Steve and head home.
He texts you on Thursday.
You wanna meet up at the dog park this weekend?
You check your calendar before texting back what time you’re able to and he sends back a thumbs up emoji.
While the dogs play you talk, you get to know him and fall hard. You’ve been meeting for over two months when you get caught in a storm. You invite Steve back to your house since you’re closer and when you get back you let both dogs into the house first. Thankfully you’d closed the mud room door so when they both shake it’s not the worst thing in the world.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” Steve says and you laugh.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got some towels and we can towel them down,” you glance up at him and see he’s drenched so you know you probably are too. “Then we can towel us down.”
“Sounds good.” He gives you a smile and you grab a couple of your dog towels, you toss him one and start rubbing down Blue. You finish by wiping his paws and then throw the towel into the sink before grabbing towels for you and Steve.
“Thanks Darlin’.” He says with a smile and your heart stops with the way Darlin’ rolled off his tongue. You didn’t know one word would completely floor you.
“Do you want me to see if I have anything to change into? I’m gonna change.”
“Maybe just a shirt?”
“Sure, I should have a sweatshirt or something, just toss your stuff into the dryer.” You tell him opening the door, “make yourself comfortable.” You tell him as you make your way through the house to your room. You change then dig in your closet for something you think will fit Steve. You find one of your dad’s sweatshirts that you’d stolen years ago and figure it’ll do fine. When you go back out into the main part of your house you freeze, god he’s cut like a fucking Greek god.
“I think this should fit.” You tell him hanging him the sweatshirt before throwing your own wet clothes into the dryer with his and turning it on.
When you turn around you catch Steve staring at you. You can feel your heart pounding as he moves slowly toward you.
“Darlin’ can I kiss you?” He whispers when he’s only a step away, you nod. His lips descend on yours as his fingers delve into your wet hair. It’s exactly what you’d hoped it would be, he sends goosebumps along your flesh and you moan softly into the kiss giving him access to your mouth.
The bark causes you to rip away from him. Both Libby and Blue are staring at you with wagging tails and tongues hanging out of their mouths.
“Excuse you.” Steve says not letting you go, “but we’re a bit busy here. Go play.” Neither dog moves and you laugh softly into his chest.
“A plus listeners we’ve got here.” You laugh, “Blue, go away.” You tell him and with a huff he turns and goes to his bed.
“That’s handy.” Steve says before snapping and pointing from Libby to the bed where Blue is. She too huffs and makes her way over to the bed and curls up with Blue.
Summary:You patch things up with Steve, but will Laurie take you back?
Word Count: 1300
Warnings:Language, fluff, angst.
A/N:Well, this is not my best, but I still like this one. Hope you guys do too! Also, not my gif. Credit to the owner. You know the drill.
He answered after one ring. “Hello?” God, you missed his voice.
“Steve,” you breathed, tears still streaming down your face. It was like a dam had broken and now your eyes were flooded. Your voice was shaking, and you had to speak quietly so you wouldn’t cry anymore. “It’s me.”
It was quiet on his end for a moment or two, and then you heard him sigh. Was he relieved? “Thank God.” He said breathlessly, and you could almost picture him running his hands through his hair.
“And you’re sure?” Steve asked for about the thousandth time.
“Yes,” You insisted, grabbing his hands. You stood in your living room, by the front door. As soon as Steve had walked in you had rushed over to him. “Yes, I’m sure. It’ll be hard, but I’d rather see you a little bit at a time then not at all.” You laced your fingers together with his.
He grinned slowly, his eyes nearly sparkling as he looked down at you. You could almost hear the ocean when you looked in his eyes. “Okay?” you said after he didn’t say anything, squeezing his hands gently to make sure he was still alive.
“Okay,” he chuckled, bending down slightly to kiss you. You helped him fill the space by standing just slightly on your toes, your lips meeting in the middle. God, I missed this, you thought, moving your lips against his. Soon his hands let go of yours and traveled to your waist, pulling you closer. You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, not opening your eyes or breaking the connection between him for one second. He lifted you up off the ground and spun you around for a second, causing you to giggle into his mouth.
Finally he set you down, and you parted, grinning at him with slightly flushed cheeks. “I missed you so much,” you said, pulling him more into your apartment.
“I missed you too, doll,” he replied, chuckling. “I thought about coming into the store a few times, and buying a phone case again. But I figured you would need your space.”
You smiled as you remembered the first time you had met him. You just knew him as Captain America then, this man who fought to protect the world and had been frozen for like, a hundred years (not a hundred, but you didn’t know the exact number). But now, you knew him as Steve, this kind, wonderful, amazing man who swept you off your feet and made you feel so happy, and safe, and invincible.
You spent the night holed up in your apartment with Steve, catching up on the last month you’d missed with him. He told you what he could about all the missions he’d been on, and shared a few stories of being recognized in public. You told him about your fight with Laurie, and how you felt so guilty about leaving things the way they were with her.
“Well, then, you have to talk to her,” Steve said. You were sitting on the couch with him now, talking. He reached over and brushed your hair behind your ears. “You guys have been friends too long just to let it fizzle out like that.”
You thought it was sweet how much he cared, and moved so that you weren’t facing him anymore; instead, your back was pressed against his chest, legs extending across the couch. He pressed a kiss against the top of your head and you could feel his chest rising and falling- steady and sure.
“You’re probably right,” you sighed, closing your eyes. He ran his fingers through your hair. “Tomorrow,” you promised, letting out a yawn. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
You stood in front of Laurie’s apartment, an olive branch in hand. Not an actual olive branch, but a peace offering of sorts. It was a plastic bag full of Laurie’s favorite candy and makeup from work. You glanced down at your phone. A text from Steve helped you work up the courage to knock.
You can do this, doll. Just talk to her.
-Steve
You took in a deep breath, and, with your free hand, knocked on the door.
After a few moments, Laurie answered. She frowned when she saw it was you, and just stood there. She didn’t say anything, just stared at you with her arms crossed over her chest. You swallowed the lump in your throat.
“I, uh, I brought you this,” you said, handing her the bag. She glanced down in to it and, after moments of consideration, allowed you to come inside.
“I’m sorry I was such an asshole,” you spoke again, biting your lip. “I shouldn’t have taken all my frustrations with Steve out on you, and I shouldn’t have said what I did. I was being a bad friend, and you were being a good friend by calling me out on my bullshit.”
You sighed. You’d said your piece, and now all you had to do was wait for Laurie to forgive you… or decide she never wanted to see you again.
After minutes- literally, minutes- of agonizing silence, Laurie rolled her eyes. “You swear you’re done acting like a lunatic?” she asked, looking at you.
“Yes,” you said, smiling softly. “Yes. Lunacy over. They’ve released me from the asylum.”
“Well, then, get over here, you dumb-ass,” Laurie said, opening her arms. You stepped forward and hugged your best friend, feeling all the pieces finally fall into place.
After the hug, you and Laurie spent the evening watching your favorite movies, quoting the lines you knew so well. She ordered Thai food and pizza and you pigged out with her on food you didn’t need, but damn did it taste good. You split a bottle of wine with her and sang stupid songs at the top of your lungs, and you were so happy to have your best friend back.
The next day, you met with Steve at the grocery store. He only had an hour to spare today to see you, and you had to go shopping for the week before you went to work. You spotted the faded blue baseball cap and knew it was him.
Holding the basket in one hand and Steve’s hand in the other, the two of you walked down the aisles and you occasionally would toss something in the basket. You held a conversation with your boyfriend, talking to him about stuff that didn’t really matter. Then finally, as you approached the produce section, he brought up something that did matter.
“So, Stark- Tony, I mean - is hosting this big, stupid party to celebrate the Avengers being together for three years,” he said, and you chuckled to yourself. “What?” He asked, nudging you with his shoulder.
“That’s so sweet,” you said, grabbing an apple and putting it in the basket. “It’s like an anniversary party. An Aveng-iversary.” You laughed, because you thought you were hilarious.
Steve didn’t. He just shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You are insane,” he said, scoffing at you lightly. “But as I was saying, he’s having this big party, and he told us we could invite whoever we want. And I want you.” He stopped, then scrunched his face slightly. “To be there. I want you to come with me. It’s next Saturday. Can you make it?”
You thought of the work schedule and after a moment or two, nodded. “Yeah, I can make it,” You said, grinning.
“Good,” He said, kissing the side of your head. “Cause my coworkers can’t wait to meet you.”
“Coworkers?” You scoffed. “You mean, the rest of the Avengers?”
Steve nodded, and it dawned on you. A night meeting the rest of the Avengers? Holy shit. You were in trouble.
Summary:Things with Steve have been going great, but what happens when you start to feel like you’re not a priority?
Word Count: 1921
Warnings:Just some angst, little bit of language.
A/N:Okay, I’m really proud of this. I thought I wasn’t going to be able to crank out something that wasn’t one hundred percent fluffy, but I did it. Let me know if you liked it!! Also, letting @whiskeyandwashitape&@thelostswan this exists!!
Not my gif, credit to the owner.
This was getting ridiculous.
So far, in your opinion, at least, you’d been a very supportive, easy-going girlfriend. It had been a little over two months with Steve, and you really were falling for him. You loved the way the corners of his mouth flickered upward when you said something stupid, and his dumb, old-fashioned jokes. You loved how the longer you looked into those deep, oceanic eyes, the more lost you got. You loved how he did things just for the sake of being good. And you knew that dating a super soldier was going to be complicated- and it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t help it that terrorists and aliens and bad men existed and that it fell on his shoulders to take care of it.
That one night - that date at your house that had ended with the two of you sleeping on your couch - had been wonderful. But since then, no date between you and Steve had ever really ended.He would get a phone call or a text or something, and just give you that look, like, I don’t want to go but I have to. And you would insist that everything was fine, that you understood that he had a job to do.
You finally cracked one night when he took you to a carnival. It had been lots of fun - he wore sunglasses and a hat so he wouldn’t get recognized, and won you this cute little red, white, and blue teddy bear. You split a churro with him, and he kissed you at the top of the Ferris wheel. It was very sweet, very When-Harry-Met-Sally-Sleepless-In-Seattle-Rom-Com cute.
You were walking hand-in-hand with him, towards the cotton candy booth, when it happened. His phone beeped, and he glanced down at it. You’d grown accustomed to silently praying every time he looked at his phone - praying that it wasn’t SHIELD or Nick Fury or someone in danger. And he gave you that look, lips slightly pursed and eyebrows knitted in a frustrated kind of way. “I’m sorry, Doll. Duty calls,” he said, shoving his phone back into his pocket and releasing your hand from his.
“Yeah, whatever,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair.
Steve looked slightly taken aback. Usually you were understanding, and you said you weren’t upset and he had to do what he had to do. But this was the second time this week this had happened, and what felt like the millionth time since you’d started dating him. You couldn’t help but be irritated.
“Y/N,” he sighed, looking at you. “I can’t not go. I have to go.”
“I know,” you snapped, rolling your eyes. “Believe me, I know.”
“Don’t be mad,” He said, eyes fluttering towards the exit. “Please, don’t be mad. I’ll… I’ll call you when we’re done, okay?”
“Whatever, fine,” you said, turning your back to him. And when you turned around again, he was gone.
Three days passed until you heard from Steve again.
It was four in the morning, and you woke up to the sound of your phone ringing. Disoriented, and partly blindly since you didn’t have your contacts in, you pulled the charger out and looked at the screen. It was Steve, calling you. What the hell?
You answered it with a hoarse and slightly incoherent, “Hello?”
“Hey, Y/N,” Steve’s voice relieved you. You often went a few days without hearing from him when he went on missions, but you couldn’t help but worry about him. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re all alright. I’m on a plane right now, heading back.”
You slowly sat up, and reached over to turn on your bedside lamp. Even though you were kind of angry at him, you were happy he was alright. “Well, that’s good,” you said with a yawn, leaning against the headboard.
“Oh, god. Did I wake you up?” Steve asked.
“Well, yeah, it’s…” you lifted the phone from your ear to check the time, “It’s 4:17 here, but, I mean…” You rubbed at your eyes. “It’s fine. I’m glad you’re alright.”
“Yeah, me too. So, look, about the other night-”
“You know what, Steve? Just forget about it, okay?” You said, crossing your legs Indian style and pulling a blanket closer to you.
“No, I can’t forget about it, Y/N. You’re unhappy, and I want to fix it.”
“You can’t fix it,” You said, shaking your head. “And honestly, I’m too tired to even talk about it, alright?” This was the first time you’d ever been mad at him, and you didn’t want to deal with it.
“Okay,” he said, sounding defeated and submissive. You hated that he sounded like that. You hated that you were the reason why. “Well, do you want to go back to sleep? I’ll let you go if you want.”
“Actually, yeah,” you said, sighing. “I have a big day at work tomorrow- buy one, get one half-off on heels. Gonna be packed.” You yawned again.
“When do you get off?” He asked, a hint of sadness in his voice. He hated you being mad at him almost as much as you did.
“Six. Come over anytime after that, if you can, alright?”
“Okay. Get some sleep, Doll.”
“I’ll try. Bye, Steve.”
You didn’t sleep.
Work that day was awful, and not just because of the sale and all the people. You couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, and about all the times he’d ditched you to go be a superhero. Your head was in the wrong place, and you couldn’t focus on anything. You even knocked over a display of shoes that one of your subordinates had spent a whole hour putting together.
You were drained, and over it all by the end of your shift. You just wanted to go home and shower and sleep for three days.
When you opened the door to your apartment, you saw Steve sitting on the couch, reading a book. You had given him a key in case of emergencies. You let a lazy, exhausted smile rise to your face. “Hey,” you said quietly, shutting the door and locking it behind you. It was hard to remember that you were mad at him when you missed him so much.
He shut his book and looked at you, that goofy grin on his face. “Hey, Doll,” he said, standing up and walking over to you. He looked cautious, like you were a ticking time bomb. You shook your head and took a step towards him, giving a long, well-needed hug.
“I missed you,” you sighed, dropping your bag at your feet and burying your head in his chest. “I was worried about you.”
He stroked your hair for a moment, and you just stood there, breathing each other in. He smelled like Old Spice.
“I missed you, too, Y/N.”
Finally, you pulled away, and took in a deep breath. Your heart hurt without him, but it didn’t change the fact that you didn’t feel like a priority in his life.
You crossed the room and sat on the couch, feeling relieved to finally be off your feet for the day. Steve sat on the opposite end of the couch from you, leaning against the armrest.
“Can we talk now, Y/N?” He asked, turning to look at you. You crossed your legs, leaning back against the couch.
You sighed. “Yeah,” you said, already wishing this conversation was over.
Steve took in a deep breath, and ran a hand through his hair. “Do you… do you want to break up with me?” he asked, quietly, scared. Like a kid. Fuck, you thought.
“No!” you exclaimed, eyes widening. You grabbed his hand across the couch. “God, no, I don’t want to break up with you. I-I… I’m just…” You groaned, and ran your free hand over your face. “I’m just irritated, because I feel like I’m not a priority, and I know there’s nothing you can do about it. You have a job to do and you have to do, and I feel soguilty about being mad at you for it, but I am, y’know? And maybe I’m not even mad at you. Maybe you’re just the only person I can take it out on.”
“You can be mad at me,” said Steve, pulling his hand away from yours and tangling them in his hair. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be mad at me. It’s healthy for couples to argue - I read that somewhere, I think.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to be mad at you, Steve,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t get very much time with you when you’re around, and I don’t want to spend it fighting with you, y’know?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry I’m never around, Y/N,” he said, sighing and looking over at you. “But you know I have to-”
“I know,” you cut him off, standing up and walking into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “I know. I’ve heard the speech a million times, Steve. You have to protect the people. You have to do what’s right. And I know you can’t, but I wish you could just blow it off sometimes, and no one had to die or anything for you to be able to spend some time with me.”
He followed you into the kitchen and leaned against the doorway as you scoured leftovers for something that seemed appetizing. “Are you ever going to be okay with this?” he asked as you settled on the rest of the sesame chicken you’d had yesterday.
You opened the lid of the Tupperware container and put it in the microwave for forty-five seconds. “I don’t know, Steve. I guess I saw this coming in, and I figured I would just get used to it. But it’s hard, you know? Like, I drop everything for you when you’re in town, and I just feel like I’m the only one trying sometimes.”
“There’s nothing I can do about that, Y/N-”
“I know!” you exclaimed, groaning out of frustration. “God, I know, Steve! You’ve been telling me the same things for the past two months- it’s like you have a script memorized for when you have to leave. And I feel so bad for being angry at you for it, but I am. I’m angry, okay?” The microwave dinged, but you made no move to open it.
“So, what, then?” He asked, irritated, crossing his arms over his chest. You took a sip of your water. “Do you want to call it quits or something?”
“I don’t know,” you sighed, sinking to the floor and leaning against a cabinet, rattling the door with your weight. “I…God. It’s impossible for me not to be happy with you. And we have such a good time together. But I can’t decide if…” you trailed off, deciding not to say it.
“You can’t decide if it’s worth it.” He finished for you, and you looked up at him, nodding slowly in response.
He shook his head. “How about we take a break then?” He said, and your eyes widened. “It makes me sad thinking about not talking to you, but I think you just need some time to think. We both do.” You said nothing. “Call me when you can decide, okay, Y/N?” You just stared at him.
And then he was gone. This time he wasn’t coming back.
Summary:Your second date with Steve doesn’t go exactly according to plan.
Word Count: 1302
Warnings:A bit of Steve-disapproved language, and lots o’ fluff.
A/N:I was so happy to see how many likes and reblogs part 1 got! Thanks to everyone who is reading this! Let me know if you actually want a part 3 to this or something different. Make requests, give me prompts. Gif is not mine– credit to the owner.
“Motherfucker!”
You looked at your hand, which was bright red from where you’d just burned it on the frying pan. Immediately, you dashed over to the sink and ran it under cool water, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. It was a small burn- nothing a little Neosporin and a bandage couldn’t fix.
It was probably a good thing Steve hadn’t arrived yet. Get all your ‘Motherfuckers’ out now, you reminded yourself.
This was your second date- you, cooking dinner for him, at your apartment. The first date had been dinner and a movie- well, dinner and half of a movie. Steve had gotten a call to go to work in the middle of it, and had to leave you all by yourself in that theater. And you were slightly irritated, yeah, but at the same time, you understood that ‘work’ for him was saving the planet from an alien invasion or rescuing hostages from a pirate-raided aircraft carrier. So you just reminded yourself that he wouldn’t leave unless it was important.
You were making him homemade pizza, an easy recipe you had learned from your mom while growing up. After patching up your burn, you turned your attention back to the pizza. You had the crust just slightly baked already, and now it was time to top it. Shit, you thought, scratching your head inquisitively. What does he like on pizza?
You glanced at the clock- there was about fifteen minutes before he was supposed to arrive. You thought of all the possible toppings you had in your fridge, and just decided he could pick what he wanted. So you grabbed the spinach and the peppers and olives, pepperoni, ham, cheese, and pizza sauce all out of the refrigerator, and assembled them on the table next to the partially-baked crust. Realizing you still looked like garbage, you rushed into your room, ripping off your sweats and changing into a pair of jeans, and a not-covered-in-flour t-shirt. You double checked your hair, and applied light makeup just to cover a few blemishes.
Then you buzzed around the living room, straightening out the throw pillows on the couch and the magazines on the coffee table. You wanted things to look nice, and who could blame you? A superhero was coming over.
After making sure everything was all straightened out- and almost exactly on time- there was a knock at the door. You took in a deep breath, walked over to the door, and opened it. “Hey!” You said, maybe sounding a little too excited.
On the other side of the door, there was Steve. He was so cute. He had on a plaid shirt tucked in to his slacks. Everything was so clean-cut and adorable.
“Hello,” he chuckled, and you stepped aside to let him in. “Wow, it smells really good in here.” You shut the door and smiled. “What are you making again?”
“Pizza,” you replied, making your way into the kitchen. He followed you. “And I realized I never asked what you liked on pizza, so I just thought we could top it together,” you leaned against the table in the kitchen, presenting your topping station.
Steve smiled slowly, and your heart fluttered. You’d definitely gotten more comfortable around him since your first, and second, meetings. However, he still made you feel nervous, but in a really good way. Like you were constantly on a hot-air balloon ten-thousand feet in the air.
“I’ve never actually made pizza before,” he admitted.
“First time for everything, then, I guess?”
You’d let him pick the music, and of course he’d decided on some old-school, smooth jazz. The pizza was in the oven- topped with literally everything you’d put on the table- and now the two of you were sitting on the couch, just talking and waiting for the timer to go off.
“I feel like I’m in an elevator,” you laughed as a saxophone solo ended.
Steve laughed, shaking his head. “You can change it,” he said, glancing over at the speaker.
“No, I like it. It’s nice.”
You listened to the music- it was kind of relaxing and you could definitely see this lulling you to sleep.
“Did you have to work today?” Steve asked, and you shook your head.
“No, I get Saturdays off. Did…” You trailed off.
“What?” he asked, poking you in the leg.
“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head lightly.
“No, you were going to say something. What?” he asked again.
You shook your head again. “Well, I was just going to ask if you worked today. But I figured you probably couldn’t tell me.”
Steve knitted his brows together, and sighed. “I mean, yeah, you’re right. But I can tell you some things, I think. As long as you swear not to tell anyone.”
“I swear,” You said, and held up your pinky for good measure. He linked pinkies with you, smiling goofily, and you swore.
“We had an intense training today- the Avengers,” Steve said. You nodded. “Just a lot of working out and throwing things- nothing crazy.”
“Right, right, nothing crazy,” You deadpanned, rolling your eyes playfully. “Probably just, you know, tossing train cars in the air and catching them, and shooting off high-tech bazooka guns.”
Steve laughed. “I think you would be pleasantly surprised with what we actuallydo to train.”
“Then I’ll just keep my version of it,” you said.
“I thought I set the timer for twenty minutes!” You exclaimed, frustrated, as you held a burned pizza in your oven-mitt-covered hands. Sighing, you set the pan down on the stove and crossed your arms over your chest.
“It’s alright, Y/N,” Steve said, leaning against the counter.
“No,” you huffed, looking at the settings on the oven. “It’s not- I’ve made this pizza dough a billion times. I need to know what went wrong.”
“And they say I’m dramatic,” Steve muttered, and you glared at him. “Woah, sorry,” he said, his eyes widening slightly. “Scary Y/N.”
You stuck out your tongue playfully before looking at the oven again. After some ‘intense’ investigating, you realized that the temperature of the oven was wrong. Instead of 350 degrees, you had somehow set it to 450.
“Dammit,” you murmured, sighing heavily. You looked over at Steve, realizing that pizza-induced anger was probably not super attractive to him. “Sorry,” you said, a disappointed tone present in your voice. “I just wanted tonight to be special, and I wanted to impress you, and cook for you, and have a nice dinner.”
He shook his head, taking a step forward. “Tonight already was special,” he said, reaching down and grabbing your hand. A million fireworks lit off- this was the first time he’d held your hand before. “You don’t need to try to impress me, Y/N,” he said, smiling down at you. “I really, really like spending time with you, homemade pizza or not.”
His hand was like twice as big as yours as he interlocked your fingers, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Your bodies were so close- you’d not been this into someone in a long time. The jazz was playing in the other room, and it didn’t matter that your whole apartment smelled like burned pizza. Everything was alright, and you felt safe here, one hand locked onto Steve’s, the other wrapped around his torso. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let him take care of you, so long as you could take care of him from time to time.
You ended up ordering Dominoes’ and cuddling on the couch, your head against his chest and his arm around your shoulders. He didn’t have to leave halfway through, which was nice, and you fell asleep on his chest, the sounds of jazz and his big, strong heartbeat lulling you to sleep.
A/N:Hope you like it! Tell me if I’m doing this right, would ya? I’m kind of new to Tumblr. Also, this is kinda AU, as if Civil War never happened. I’m taking requests if you have any! Not my gif, also. Credit to the owner.
Working at a department store had its downsides- actually, when you added it all up, it was mostly downsides. People were rude and pushy, and shoved expired coupons in your face, and demanded to know if you had their size in the back. There was no back. Literally everything in the store was all the stock you had, but for some reason, every customer had this ridiculous fantasy that below every department store was a secret department store that had all the sizes and colors of every item. If only.
Today had been especially annoying. You had been yelled at multiple times by multiple people, one of which was your boss. You had put the purses in the wrong spot, but when you moved them, they were still in the wrong spot. All this stupid, ridiculous crap you didn’t want to put up with, but you did.
You were working at a register now, taking deep breath after deep breath to try and get yourself together. Usually you were pretty good at just brushing off everyone being incredibly rude to you, but today it was hitting pretty hard. It was just one little thing after another, and it was building up.
A man came up to the register with a phone case in hand, and you scanned it and placed it into a bag. “Will that be all for you today?” you asked, with your scripted, fake-friendly voice in tow.
“Yes, ma’am, that’s all.” Said a deep, confident voice that you faintly recognized. You looked up to see a slightly familiar face. Blue eyes, blond hair. It was weird seeing him without that red, white, and blue get-up on, but yeah. It was Captain America.
Your eyes widened as you took the twenty-dollar bill from him, your mouth slightly agape. You didn’t take your eyes off him as the register opened and you blindly grabbed random bills and change. You handed him whatever it was you grabbed, and finally, his receipt. “Here you… go,” you said quietly, grabbing the bag and handing that over as well.
Captain America looked down into his hands, and then back up at you. “Miss, are you alright?” He asked, examining you like you were a crazy person.
You cleared your throat, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. I’m totally… I’m great. I’m fine.” you stammered. “Why?”
“Well, because you gave me fifty-six dollars back for a seventeen-dollar phone case.” he pointed out, glancing from you to the money in his hand, then back to you. He gathered all the money he didn’t need and gave it back to you. “You’re not having a stroke, are you?” he asked, concern present in his voice.
You shook your head, and shoved the bills back in the drawer. “Alright then,” he said, smiling at you awkwardly. “I will, uh… I’ll be on my way then.”
You thought that would be the first, and last, time you would ever see him. That weird, awkward, starstruck exchange would be it. You’d never see Captain America again. You were so, so wrong about that.
It was about six months later. You were still working at that department store, but, luckily, you were promoted to manager. It wasn’t as bad as it used to be- you got to tell people where to go, and got paid a little more. You didn’t completely despise your job anymore, which was great.
But your next encounter with Captain America was not at the department store.
You were at a marathon for charity with your best friend, Laurie. You had been friends with Laurie since grade school, and your relationship with her had always been the same- she dragged you to clubs and parties and social events and you protested and said you didn’t want to, but eventually ended up having a good time. The marathon was one of those instances. You really didn’t want to go, mostly because huge crowds freaked you out and made you feel all panicky. But Laurie had convinced you to join a water stand with her at the eighteen-mile mark.
It was a beautiful summer day, all warm accompanied by a light breeze. There were over three thousand people participating in this marathon, and you couldn’t even imagine running a mile,let alone twenty-six. But the money from all the entry fees and donors was going to two or three different charities- a children’s hospital, an animal rescue foundation, and some sort of organization that helped veterans and soldiers and stuff like that. It was a big marathon, and you thought it was a great cause. But there was a ton of people.
You stood off the side of the path with Laurie, behind a table that had a big ten-gallon water jug on it and a whole bunch of little cups. Laurie kept cheering on everyone who ran by, and even flirted with a couple of guys who stopped to chat for a moment.
“This isn’t a singles bar, Laur,” you pointed out after a redheaded man jogged off to rejoin the stream of runners.
Laurie looked at you and placed a hand on her hip. “Anywhere’s fair game, Y/N,” she said, tossing her curly blonde hair behind her shoulder. “You never know when you’re going to run into the man of your dreams.” She paused, and then smiled happily. “Pun totally intended.”
You shook your head, looking at an older gentlemen who approached the table. You handed him a cup of water and he smiled at you gratuitously. “Well,” you continued after the man left, running a hand over your ponytail. “Do you have to be in flirt mode allthe time?” you asked, knowing exactly what her answer was going to be.
“Oh, shut up,” Laurie teased, bumping shoulders with you before filling some more cups up.
You looked out at all the runners, watching them slow down as they grew tired. Mostly everyone at this point was simply jogging, covered in sweat. But as you looked down the path at the oncoming flow of runners, you noticed one man taking long, confident, energetic strides as he came towards you.
The man stopped at the booth, small beads of sweat glistening off his forehead. He was tall and muscular and- holy shit. It was Captain America. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you watched him pick a cup of water off of the table and down it in one sip. This was unreal! You couldn’t believe you were seeing him again.
“Thanks for the water, ladies,” he said, looking at Laurie, and then at you. He turned to jog off, but then looked back at you again. You could feel his eyes on you as you stared at your feet. He took a step towards the table once again. “Do I know you?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting together.
You shook your head, your cheeks blushing as you refused to make eye contact. “No, I… I do know you,” he insisted, crossing his arms over his chest and examining you. “I’ve definitely seen you before- I…”
Laurie looked between you and the Captain. “Oh, my god, I can’t take it,” she mumbled, then looked at the Captain. “She works at Macy’s, Cap! Remember when she gave you all the money in her drawer as change?” she prompted, and you glared at your friend. “What?” she asked, putting her hands up in surrender. “I was just trying to help.”
“Yes!” Captain America exclaimed. “Yes, that’s what I remember you from. I would never forget such a wonderful interaction.” He teased, and you looked up to see a playful glimmer in his baby blue eyes. You blushed. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Y/N,” you said, locking your hands together awkwardly. “And I apologize for that. It was not one of my best moments.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be sorry,” he said, running a hand through his slightly sweaty hair. “I thought it was kind of cute how you couldn’t even get one word out.” He chuckled.
If it was possible for your cheeks to turn even redder, that’s what happened. You tucked some hair behind your ear and bit your lip. Why did you feel so intimidated by him? From all the news footage and interviews you’d seen, Captain America seemed like the nicest out of all the Avengers.
Maybe it was how jacked he was. Like, he really had a lot of muscles. You usually didn’t hang around super hunky guys like that.
You realized then that you hadn’t said anything in response to him, and you opened your mouth to say something, but no words came out. So you just stood there, staring at him with your mouth wide open like an idiot. Laurie came to your rescue and jumped in again.
“She’s free on Friday!” she exclaimed, reaching over and patting your chin to remind you to close your mouth. You looked over at her, shocked at what she just said.
“What? No, I’m not!” You said, panicking slightly. Captain America gave you a funny look. “I mean, I…. I am free. But I don’t, I mean…” You stopped talking, because there was nothing you could say. This was the worst interaction you’d ever had with a man. Just ride it out and let him run away screaming, you thought.
But Captain America- god, you wished you could remember his real name- just smiled, and pulled out his phone- the case he had bought all that time ago was on it. He opened his contacts and handed it over to you. “”Can I have your phone number, Miss Y/N?” he asked, and you silently obliged, typing your number in. “Would it be alright if I called you, ma’am?” he asked, looking into your eyes.
“Yeah,” you said, making direct eye contact and finally feeling like you could speak to him. “Yeah. You can.”
His baby blues twinkled, and he grinned at you before running off to join the others.
Summary:The Star Spangled Man with a Plan wakes up with a nightmare, and it’s up to you to comfort him.
Word Count: 993
Warnings:Angst.
A/N:Not my gif! Make requests for me, and tell me if this was good or nah. I thrive off of praise basically.
You know how sometimes people need a fan to be able to sleep? Well, for you, it was Steve Rogers’ heartbeat. It was something that you’d grown used to having lull you to sleep, and without it, you just couldn’t fall asleep. Ever since Steve had moved in a few months ago, it had become a staple for him to be next to you. You just weren’t comfortable enough without his big, strong arms around you and his heart beating so steady and bringing you to that place of relaxation. This whole relationship with Steve, you had mostly needed him more than he needed you. You accepted that. It was fine.
—————–
He was shivering. You slowly woke up to find Steve shivering in his spot, still asleep, even though he had two blankets on. How could he possibly be cold? You were slightly disoriented as you turned your head to look at the alarm clock. It was one in the morning. With a small sigh, you moved your body closer to Steve’s and pressed against him, hoping he would warm up. But he kept shivering, and not long after that, he started mumbling things. Talking in his sleep? He never did that. Steve was the soundest sleeper you had ever witnessed. You looked at his lips in the darkness, and tried to make out some of the words he was saying. Most of it was incoherent, what Steve was saying. But you managed to make out one word- a name. Bucky. Bucky. Why was Steve dreaming about Bucky? Shivering, and… and talking in his sleep? You didn’t know whether to wake him up or not, but his face was so pained, you definitely felt like you should.
You were about to gently wake him up, but then Steve did it himself. He shot up from his position, sitting up in the bed, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He groaned painfully, and, panting, looked around the room as if he couldn’t remember where he was. “(Y/N)?” He said, looking at you.
You sat up, reached over, and flicked on the lamp. “Steve?” you said softly, inching towards him, worried. “Steve, I’m right here. Are you okay?” Your voice was hoarse from having just woken up.
Steve turned to look at you. His cheeks were red and sweat covered his face like a blanket. His breathing was heavy, like he’d just run across the whole world. He had an expression on his face you’d never seen before- fear? Was he afraid? Steve? He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at you, and around the room, almost as if he was trying to convince himself that this was real, and that whatever had been going on in that dream was over.
“Are you alright, Steve?” you asked him again, reaching over to grab his hand. He pulled away instinctively, looking like an abandoned dog. You furrowed your brow slightly and unraveled yourself from the blankets. “Come on, babe, let’s get you some water or something.” You slid on your slippers and opened the bedroom door.
Steve just shook his head, appearing to be back with you. “I’m fine, (Y/N).” He said, running a hand through his hair, and taking a deep, shaky breath. You stood in the doorway with a hand on your hip. “Really,” he insisted, nodding in confirmation. “I’m fine. Let’s… let’s go back to sleep.”
“You don’t have to be prideful with me, Steve,” you said, flipping on the main light of the bedroom. “I’m not going to respect you any less if you tell me what just happened. Clearly you had a nightmare or something. Why can’t you just tell me what it was?”
“It was nothing, (Y/N),” Steve said, his voice more persistent, and taking on a slightly irritated tone. “God, will you just give it a rest and come back to sleep with me?”
Rolling your eyes, and knowing you weren’t going to get anywhere, you shut off the light and stormed back into the bed. Steve turned with his back to you, and it took a while for you to fall asleep.
–
A few hours later you woke up to the sounds of Steve screaming. Your eyes shot open to see the blond man sitting up in bed, clutching his pillow like it was a lifeline. He was sweating again, the same scared-shitless look on his face.
“Steve,” you said, slowly sitting up against the headboard. “Babe, are you alright?”
“It was Bucky,” he said quietly, his voice shaky and scared. “I-it was Bucky. H-he kept falling off of that train, just over and… and over again. I couldn’t save him, and I couldn’t save Peggy. I couldn’t even… I couldn’t even save myself.” His voice cracked, and he buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to him on the bed, and wrapped your arms around his bare shoulders.
“Shh,” you whispered, pulling him close to you, so that his head lay on your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead a few times. “It’s over now, Steve.” You said quietly, knowing there was nothing you could do to take those awful World War II memories out of his head. He softly started crying into your chest, and you couldn’t help but cry with him- silent tears as he softly sobbed into your nightshirt.
“There’s nothing more you could have done, baby,” you said to him, tears streaming down your face as you tried to imagine the kind of pain he went through. “But it’s all over now, okay? It’s done. The past is gone.”
Eventually he fell asleep again, but you didn’t. Thinking about how much pain all this caused the love of your life made you incredibly, deeply sad, and you just couldn’t sleep with those kinds of thoughts in your head, even if Steve’s heartbeat was right there.
Summary:You have been in a relationship with Steve for a while, and are reminiscing one of your favorite memories with him.
Word Count: 1558
Warnings: None. This is fluffy fluff fluff.
A/N:I hope you guys like my first imagine! Be sure to let me know what you thought of it. I know it’s kind of cheesy and corny and fluffy-poo, but I haven’t written in a while and I needed a warm-up piece, y’know? Well, anyway, I’m open to requests if you have any! Not my gif btw
You stood in the kitchen, your hair haphazardly pulled up in the sloppiest of messy buns. You were at the sink, rinsing some green beans for dinner. Music filled the room, from the tiny little Bluetooth speaker in the corner. It was Frank Sinatra, Steve’s favorite. You weren’t much into jazz until you met Steve, and he started playing it for you. Now it was almost all you listened to. You hummed along quietly, smiling as you remembered the first time Steve played this song for you.
———-
“Now, I know you said you don’t like jazz, but I really think you’re going to like this song.” he said, this excited grin present on his face. The two of you sat in his car, an old red convertible, in the parking lot of the restaurant you at which you just ate. The top was down, the sky was dark and clear, and your stomach was happily full of Italian food.
“If you say so,” you teased lightly, brushing some loose hair behind your ear. “But if I don’t like it, don’t be too disappointed.”
Steve just looked at you and shook his head. “You’re going to like it,” he said, determined, and pressed the play button. Soon the sounds of horns and strings filled the car, and Steve pulled out onto the street. The song, ‘April in Paris’, was beautiful, and you smiled as you listened to it. It was surprising, really, how much you liked it. You stared straight ahead, focusing on the music, but you could tell Steve was glancing over at you every few seconds to gauge whether or not you liked it.
Halfway through the song, you looked over at him and grinned. “I like it,” you said, and his face lit up like a dog getting a treat.
You started to say something else, but Steve reached over and covered your mouth with his hand. “Wait!” he cut you off as the sound of the horns slowly died. “This is the best part.” Within a moment, the horns and strings swelled back up, and Frank Sinatra’s voice rang out like church bells.
You glanced down at Steve’s hand, which was still over your mouth, and pushed it away. You stayed silent for the rest of the song, listening and thinking about this night- it was your fourth date with Steve, and you really, really liked him. He was sweet, and chivalrous, and old-fashioned, which was just adorable. And he was hot as hell, which was a nice bonus. You knew that dating a superhero would be complicated, but when it was all said and done, wasn’t every relationship at least a little complicated? You wanted to try and make it work with Steve, and it really seemed like he liked you as much as you liked him.
The song ended shortly after that, and you reached over and turned the volume down a little on the radio. “Where are we going now?” you asked, looking over at the broad-shouldered blond in the driver’s seat.
“To my favorite spot in the whole city,” Steve said, glancing over at you with this gleam in his eyes you had never seen before. Maybe it was the streetlights reflecting off of their baby blue tint, or maybe it was the stars, but you had never noticed just how beautiful his eyes were.
He drove you to the World War II Memorial, and you smiled softly as he parked the car. Of course this would be his favorite spot in the city. He opened your door for you and you walked together to the memorial. The moonlight reflecting off the water and the sounds of the fountains were calming.The World War II Memorial was right in between the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument, so you felt a sense of patriotism as you and Steve walked together. You didn’t say much to him as you walked around the memorial together, but instead listened as he explained the symbolism of all the arches and the pillars, the water and the lights, and told you all the facts about this memorial he could spew off the top of his head. He didn’t seem terribly overrun with grief as he talked about World War II, but there was definitely a glimmer of sadness in his tone. You couldn’t imagine how hard it all must have been for him. You slowly reached over and grabbed his hand as you passed Indiana’s pillar, not saying anything as you pressed your two palms together and interlaced your fingers. He looked down at you and smiled.
“God, there’s just… there’s something about you, (Y/N),” he said to you, stopped and turning to face you.
Your lips quirked up into a small smile, and he took a step closer to you. “I don’t know what it is,” Steve continued, releasing your hand so he could wrap his arms around your waist. “But I’m gonna find out.” You looked into his big, blue, Star-Spangled eyes, and you knew what was about to happen next.
Your heart was racing as he leaned in, and your eyes fluttered shut as you stood on your toes, pursing your lips. That song, ‘April in Paris’, started playing in your head, that part that Steve had loved so much. Your lips were just about to touch, barely centimeters away, and-
“Daddy, look, it’s Captain America!”
A small voice interrupted your thoughts, and Steve’s actions, and you turned to see a young boy and his father jogging towards you and Steve. ‘Shit,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Moment’s over. Kiss it goodbye.’
Steve stepped away from you and wiped his hands against his pants, smiling at the little boy, who couldn’t be more than six or seven. “Gee, I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers. But my son here is a big fan of yours- could we trouble you for an picture?” The father asked, eyes darting between Steve and you.
“Of course he can,” Steve grinned, squatting down so that the little boy was just barely taller than him. “What’s your name, little guy?”
“Bryce!” Said the young boy, grinning at his hero.
“Do you want to climb on my shoulders, Bryce?”
“Yeah!”
You laughed slightly, stepping off to the side so that Bryce’s father could snap a picture with his phone. After a few minutes of taking some pictures and small talk, Bryce and his father were soon on their way, and Steve looked at you. His expression was apologetic, and you could tell he was about to say he was sorry. “Hey, look, (Y/N), I’m real-”
“Don’t be,” you shrugged it off, reaching over and grabbing his hand. “I thought it was sweet how you let them ruin our moment,” you teased, placing his hand back on your waist. Steve’s cheeks turned pink and you stood on your toes once again, assuming the position. “Now, where were we?”
Steve chuckled and pulled you closer, lifting you up off the ground just slightly. His lips soon touched yours, and it was like a thousand fireworks lit off. It was a sweet, slow, lazy kiss, and you loved it. That was night you realized you could definitely see yourself falling in love with this goofy, old-fashioned, all-American hero.
———
“Those green beans aren’t going to rinse themselves, Doll.”
“Shit!” You jumped, turning around to see Steve in the doorway of the kitchen. Your eyes grew wide, and your cheeks turned pink when he started laughing at you. “That’s not funny,” you pouted, tossing a green bean at him. “You scared me.”
Steve was still chuckling. He crossed the kitchen and wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you so that your hip was touching his. “What were you thinking about?” he asked, tucking some hair behind your ear and pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.
“Nothing,” you said spitefully, sticking your tongue out before walking over to the stove and turning it on.
“Aw, come on, bug,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “It must have been pretty important to take your attention away from the beans like that.” You turned your head so that you could look at him and blew a raspberry in his face. “Now, there’s no need to be feisty,” Steve teased, burying his head in the crook of your neck.
You stirred the soup on the stovetop, trying your best to ignore him and his incessant, loving touches and kisses. “Oh, come on. I’m sorry I scared you, (Y/N). Now talk to me! I haven’t seen you in a week. What’s been on that pretty mind of yours?”
You turned so that you were facing him, and his hands were now on your lower back. “I was just thinking about you, and your stupid haircut.” You teased, smirking as you reached up and ruffled his blond locks.
He rolled his eyes, and leaned down to kiss you. “You’re a whack job sometimes, you know that?”
“I know,” you said proudly, reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck. “But I’m your whack job.”
Another Sinatra song came on through the speaker, and Steve pulled you away from the stove so that your body was touching his. He swayed with you to the song, singing softly in your ear. “Fly me to the moon…”
Summary: feeling insecure about your looks, Steve helps you to see what he sees.
You put away the last bit of the laundry. Life has been crazy this whole last week. The guys have been on mission after mission, meanwhile the aching pain in your side hasn’t subsided. Bruce, not to your delight, thinks you shouldn’t even be training. But you would go completely stir crazy laying in bed or on the couch all day.
What the boys know won’t hurt them. Besides, you want to try to stay in shape. Anytime you are under bed rest, you feel like your muscles turn to mush and your totally body fat sky rockets. Being insecure your whole life about your looks, you finally started to feel comfortable with all the cardio and weightlifting.
Especially around your friends from before becoming an Avenger. They all know you are a part of the team, your costume doesn’t exactly hide your identity. Neither did the fact that you blew up a baseball with your bare hands in college because it scared you. At a game the batter hit the ball into the crowd, it was coming for you, you threw your hands up in defense but never felt the ball hit your skin. Instead the ball fell to the ground in the small pieces that were left.
Fury found you shortly after. Explained to you that there are others, a team, a family that you could be a part of. You accepted the offer and never looked back. For once you felt like you belonged, but every once in a while some of your insecurities come flooding back.
“Hey gorgeous,” Steve’s deep voice creeps around your door frame. Joining your curled up body on your bed, Steve brushes your free hair behind your ear. “I have a surprise for you. I know you’ve been cooped up in this building for two weeks, so I brought your two friends from home.”
“Really?” You slowly sit up, griping your side. It feels like forever since you’ve seen them, and you’ve missed them desperately.
Steve nods his head with a smile. And before you know it, you leave Steve to smell the burning rubber from your rapid departure. Running through the pain, you make it to the corridor to see your long-term friends standing in awestruck wonder at the architecture.
“Oh my god! Christi! Abby!” You manage to apply your breaks just in time to keep from barreling the girls to the floor. Collecting your composure, you wrap each in an arm and offer a big group hug.
“Safe to say you like your surprise?” Steve appears by the stairs with a smug smirk.
Letting go of your girls, you race back toward Steve. Leaping into his arms, the pain doesn’t present itself until Steve’s arms securely wrap around you. Steve gets in a spin or two before putting you down. Kissing your temple, Steve apologizes for hurting you but you just shrug it off.
The girls and you end up in the art studio down the hall from your room. The movie Book Club plays in the background as the three of you attempt to paint while drinking your glasses of wine. Christi wants to know everything about the male Avengers. She is on the market for a boyfriend, and thinks a superhero will be a perfect match. However, Abby just wants to know about you and Steve.
“You two ARE dating right?” Abby takes a sip of her wine and wiggles the brows.
“We haven’t really put a title on it yet,” you can feel the warmth from the wine spread to your face. “We are definitely more than friends, but he has been so busy lately. Maybe once I’m back on the field we can talk about it.”
The girls tell you how impressed they were that Steve came to get them. They assumed when he got back from missions, the two of you would be inseparable. Honestly, they aren’t wrong but you also get your fair shared time with the others on the team. But that’s Steve, he is very big on personal space. It’s something you are very thankful for. Even though the two of you aren’t officially together it is easy to get lost in someone else and forget the world around you.
After painting, you move into the movie room. It is getting late, and you all are getting fairly tired. Sitting on the couch your gaze wanders to your thighs. In your peripheral you see the thin outline of your own friend’s thighs and notice how drastic the change is. You pretend not to notice the difference in body types between you and your friends.
Suddenly all insecurities from college and high school come flooding back. The fact that you were admiring your own body in the mirror just hours ago escapes you. Any feeling of accomplishment from your workouts, training, missions no longer exists. Not next to Christi and Abby.
You know it’s not their fault, and you’re not bitter toward them whatsoever. Christi eats a lot of junk but just so happens to be gifted with the perfect metabolism gene. Abby just does her own thing, no workouts and no dieting, but it works for her. You have always had more fat to you. Before becoming an Avenger, home workouts never did a thing and changing your diet did nothing as well. Since being here you have lost 20 lbs but you are still 10 – 15 lbs heavier than your friends next to you.
Agreeing on a childhood favorite, you grab a blanket and curl up in a ball. The more coverage you provide the greater the lie you can tell yourself of what lies beneath. The girls follow suit and the three of you talk and make comments about the movie until the three of you pass out.
Only a few hours later your body atomically wake up around 7:00 am. No matter the time you fall asleep, or the quality of sleep, your body always has a habit of waking you up early in the morning. The only other person in this building that I normally awake at this time is Steve. Though, after the rest he probably needed after the mission he is most likely still in bed.
You crawl off the couch carefully trying not to wake the girls. A searing pain ripples through your right side to your leg. Biting your lip helps keep your internal scream from moving up your throat. Shimmying the rest of the way out of the room, you head towards the locker room to start training.
“What do you think you are doing?” His surprisingly stern voice echoes through the training room as soon as you enter.
“STEVE! Seriously, one day you are going to give me a heart attack.”
Ignoring Steve’s original question, you make your way to the punching bag. You feel the need to build up your strength in your left arm. Perhaps if you get your strength back up the rest of the team may be convinced to let you back on the field early.
Hearing your fist hit leather, the sounds doesn’t over power the feeling of you skin shift. My body is ultimately made up of fat! I’m not even muscle, just fat and bone! Tears sting behind your eyes as the comments of from arrogant assholes from your past echo with each punch.
She’s easier to aim for, (Y/N)’s bigger than the others!
(Y/N) is a nice friend. I know she likes me, but you look more like my type.
As each voice filters through your ears each punch against the bag gets harder and harder. The sound radiates through the training center. Completely in a trance, you don’t notice Steve’s gaze on you as he approaches closer. Right before he gets too close you realize your leg muscles need a workout as well, and you take off towards the track.
“(Y/N)!” Steve shouts but the pain in your side is all you can focus on.
Wheezing, your arm wraps around your right side in attempt to console it. The pain radiates down the side of your body toward your leg once again. With each step you start to feel like jello.
The sound of your body hitting the ground registers before the additional pain does. Dazed and confused how you got there, you feel a presence next to you. They place both their hands on each side of your face and examine for any blood. You’d swat them away if it wasn’t for the sudden want of physical touch.
“Steve, do you think you’d prefer if I was skinnier?” Sleepiness invades your senses.
“What are you talking about?”
You don’t say anything else as Steve scoops you in his arms. All you do is point to your thighs and the little pudge on your stomach. Steve says nothing as he carries you to your room. All he does is place a soft kiss to the side of your head before laying you down on your bed covers.
“Where is this coming from?” Steve inquires, but you only shrug your shoulders. The both of you know that you do. Steve doesn’t press though, which you are thankful for.
“(Y/N), you’re brilliant. If it wasn’t for Stark or Banner you would easily be the smartest person I’ve ever known.” He soothingly brushes his fingers up and down your arms, luring you to sleep. “Outstandingly stunning. Though if we must talk specifically your body?”
Steve delays by gently pulling your body onto his. Resuming the touch of his fingers against your arm, you wait for him to continue. The butterflies in your stomach ache as much as your injury pain. Assuming the worst, you’re not sure if you really want to know or not.
“I assume this trip of insecurity is due to your friends being here.” No offensiveness rises within you. You’ve told Steve about this before. “No, you’re not as thin as them. But they’re not as fit as you are. I know you hate your thighs the most, but doll trust me they are mostly hard muscle. Of which I find way more attractive than being super skinny, but unable to effectively fight.”
“I’m sorry-,” you start before Steve cuts you off with a kiss.
“You don’t need to be sorry. I get it, and I love you.” And this time you kiss him.
A/N:Hello, I am a sadboi right now. Please listen to Wires in the Way by SiR before or during your reading. Title and fic as a whole is based on it. This was written for @coffee-with-bucky‘s writing challenge. Congrats on the milestone! Prompt is in bold in the story. Hope you’re all doing well and staying sane! We’re on month four of quarantine/isolation. I’m going insane and Florida is stupid. Please let me know what you think about this one, I wrote it in two hours. :) x
Masterlist is pinned or search #gigi writes on my blog!
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Steve Rogers is tired.
His body aches and his head’s throbbing and he’s starting to believe that thing old people say, where they can feel it’s going to rain by how their joints feel. Though maybe it has less to do with the clouds outside and more with the fact that three days ago he’d been fighting an army of weird, glowstick-like robots on the other side of the world.
Two months. That’s how long it took to gather enough intel to find out where this season’s flavor villain was hiding and conducting his operations. One long flight to a nameless frozen tundra later, Steve had been deep enough in the glowing substance filling the robots’ bodies to worry for the serum’s effectiveness against radioactivity.
The team had flown straight to the compound, after. Once they’d been monitored for long enough for the doctors in the medical ward to conclude they weren’t going to die from radioactive decay, Steve took his ass home.
There’s a certain peace about riding his motorcycle in the middle of the night, buzzing past shadowed trees and who knows what else hiding beyond them, the promise of a warm bed and a familiar view of the New York skyline waiting for him.
Steve makes it home sometime after three, the buzzing in his head not quite as loud as before, and the pain in his muscles now dulled. He goes through his entire post-mission routine in record time, finds himself flopping onto his bed still damp from the shower he’s taken, sheets sticking to his skin.
He dozes, doesn’t really fall asleep.
Steve’s phone buzzes somewhere in one of the drawers of his bedside table. He ignores it, though he wonders just how good Tony’s smartphone batteries are that the device is still charged since he left a week ago.
Standard protocol is to not take phones on missions, not that Steve has anyone to call anyway. Nobody calls him either. That’s what makes him curious enough to forgo sleep in its entirety, throwing a careless hand into his drawer to fish out the damn thing.
Staring at a blank ceiling at almost four in the morning, droplets of water cooling on his skin, tendrils of a long, restless day slowly creeping their way outside his window, Steve Rogers hears the voice that haunts his dreams every other night.
Request: AU request where Steve lied about his age when he got into the army and now that he’s lived in the modern world, he starts doubting himself. The world isn’t as he remembered when he went into the ice, and he can’t really figure out the rules. So, when Tony makes a comment, it really hits home.
A/N The request is a summary of two very long requests. One of them mentioned Steve and the reader being teenagers, but I really don’t feel comfortable writing from the perspective of a teenager, so I’ve tried to incorporate it in a different way ✨
Sometimes, Steve’s hands still feel ice-cold despite the fact that he’s been out of the ice for almost 5 years now. Sometimes, Steve still shudders when you forget to turn on the radiator, even though his body temperature is probably hotter than the radiator. Sometimes, Steve imagines things that aren’t real, and you know this about him. Not because he’s told you, but because you like to watch him when he thinks no one watches him. It’s little things like always wanting a blanket when you’re sitting on the couch, or how he’ll bring his hands up to his mouth and blow warm air onto them even in the summertime. Steve Rogers is struggling. And you have no idea how to help him.
“Should we watch a movie?” you ask, entering your room where Steve is currently hiding under your duvet. He didn’t even get up for his morning run, which (despite how it sounds) worries you. Sam texted you asking if he was alright, and the truth is that you don’t have an answer for him. When there’s a mission, Steve is great. He takes on the persona of Captain America, and he can ignore his own mind while he fights, but it’s periods like this one where everything falls apart. In the silence, Steve can’t ignore his own doubts, and you know exactly how that feels.
“I’ll be right down,” he mutters, but make no effort to move.
“Come on. No time to be moping around,” you say, hoping you sound somewhat optimistic. You reach out a hand and grab the duvet to pull it back.
“There’s that pretty face of yours,” you tease, cupping his cheek.
“Hey,” he whispers, looking at you with clear adoration in his eyes. You hope your eyes don’t betray you and show your worry. You want to help him, but it’s hard when he won’t open up to you.
“Do you want to come downstairs?” Slowly, he gets up and follows you out into the hallway. His fingers intertwine with yours, and you’re happy to offer any kind of support you can. The rest of the team are already in the much too big living area that obviously has been designed by Tony.
“I was beginning to think you might have gotten lost somewhere in this high-tec building of mine. Don’t worry, big guy. Technology can be confusing.” Tony laughs, unaware of the feelings of doubt he’s creating in Steve by making that comment. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, remembering the many late nights when you stayed up to teach him about the world he woke up in. Technology, the historical events he missed, and even some pop culture - though he didn’t care much about the last one.
“Tony?”
“Yes, my dear,” he says, looking over at you with a glint in his eye.
“Shut up.” Everyone laughs and for a minute, things seem good. But one too many of those comments and you can just tell that Steve is regretting coming downstairs.
“Tony,” you warn but he just won’t stop today. Once again he’s on a roll and a little too self-centered to realize that Steve is not finding this funny at all.
“Do you ever stop talking? You think you’re so funny but all you know how to do is make people at the expense of someone else. For once, just shut up!” Everyone is quiet. It’s the first time Steve has ever had an outburst like this, and none of you know what to do.
“Rogers…” Tony doesn’t have time to formulate any kind of apology before Steve gets up and leaves the room.
“Thanks, Tony. Just what I needed,” you say before following Steve. When you find him sitting on the bed in your room, his chest is heaving as he struggles to control his breathing.
“I’m sorry,” he gasps. You keep quiet as you inch closer, giving him the chance to ask for space. But he hugs you tightly, allowing you to be the anchor he needs to calm down.
“I’m right here,” you say, stroking his back gently.
“It just got too much. I know I’m new to all of these things, but I’m trying to learn.”
“Steve, you’re not stupid. You came out of the ice as a 23-year-old guy after having missed crucial years of development within technology. Obviously, you have to learn a thing or two.” You kiss his forehead, feeling your heart crack for the boy who wanted to help save the world.
“You knew?”
“That you lied about your age when you signed up for the experiment? It’s my job to know those things.” You kiss him again - this time on his lips. You don’t comment on the salty taste or the fact that his cheeks are wet. You just stay right next to him and try to make him feel as loved as you know he is. Not just by you, but by everyone on the team.
You know Tony will find a way to apologize without ever saying the words “I’m sorry”, but you also know that he’ll never make another joke like that again. This is what family is. Sometimes, you cross a line without knowing it, and then you spend the rest of your life making sure it doesn’t happen again for the simple reason that you care.
Author’s Note: I’m super proud of this one. It doesn’t follow the song as much as some of the others, but it’s still super adorable. ENJOY!
You better watch out You better not cry Better not pout I’m telling you why Santa Claus is coming to town Santa Claus is coming to town Santa Claus is coming to town
Your son, Evan, was beyond ecstatic when you and Steve told him that you were going to see Santa. He had been on his best behavior for the past two weeks, being extra careful not to do anything bad until Christmas, which just happened to be tomorrow.
Now, you’re waiting in line with Evan who is bouncing up and down excitedly waiting for his turn to see Santa.
“You excited, little man?” Steve asks, looking down at his son with a fond smile.
“Yes! Daddy, I’m gonna meet Santa Claus!” The five year old exclaims. “I’m going to ask for something super special,” he says, a secretive glint in his eye. You raise an eyebrow at your son’s antics.
“And what’s that?” You ask.
“I can’t tell you, Mama! I can only tell Santa!” Evan deadpans, looking at you with a look that just screams “duh”.
He’s making a list And checking it twice; Gonna find out Who’s naughty and nice Santa Claus is coming to town Santa Claus is coming to town Santa Claus is coming to town
When it’s his turn, Evan runs up the two stares and practically jumps into Santa’s lap. You laugh and lean into your husband’s embrace as you watch the scene in front of you unfold.
“Ho, ho, ho!” Santa says, lifting Evan up into his lap. “And what is your name?”
“Evan,” Evan says, but more timid than before.
“Have you been a good boy this year, Evan?”
“Yes, sir.” You grin at your son’s manners; it was something he’d been working on with him.
“And what do you want for Christmas, Evan?”
Evan eyes you and Steve warily before turning back to Santa and whispering into Santa’s ear.
“I want a baby sister.”
“Ho, ho, ho!” Santa laughed. “That one might be a little out of my hands, but I’ll see what I can do.” You and Steve share a look; what had your son just asked for?
Evan smiled. “Thanks, Santa!” And then Evan jumped off of Santa’s lap and ran over to Steve.
“Merry Christmas!”
“You ready to go, bud?” Steve asks.
“Yup!” Evan replies, running a little ahead to get out of the line. Steve follows right behind him.
You, however, take a detour to ask Santa your own question. Santa raises an eyebrow as you lean forward just a little.
“What did he ask for?”
Santa chuckles. “He asked for a baby sister.” Your eyes widen and Santa and he chuckles once more. You mumble out a ‘thanks’ before you run to catch up with your family.
He sees you when you’re sleeping He knows when you’re awake He knows if you’ve been bad or good So be good for goodness sake!
After you put Evan to bed with the reminder that Santa won’t come if he doesn’t go to sleep, you and Steve settle down on the couch to watch some T.V.
“So, what did he ask for?” Steve asks as you cuddle into his side and turn on the T.V.
You giggle at the memory. “Oh! Santa said he wants a baby sister for Christmas. Hence the “that’s a little out of my hands” thing.”
Steve’s eyes widen in surprise. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it’s a good thing he has one on the way, then,” he says, placing his hand over your stomach.
“Hey, we don’t know it’s a girl, yet,” you point out with a giggle.
“I guess not,” Steve says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
O! You better watch out! You better not cry Better not pout I’m telling you why Santa Claus is coming to town Santa Claus is coming to town Santa Claus is coming to town
