Chris Evans Imagines

club knocked up (s. rogers)

A/N: our first fluff with a like dedication to this honey -infinitywitch-
Summary: (Headcanon) Steve finds out you're expecting!
Warnings: pure fluff! cursing, (implied smut, i mean birds and bees right?), look at those puppy dog eyes

• Two lines.
• Yes, left and right handed folks, you are pregnant.
• A super soldier boyfriend means super soldier sperm means super soldier grade protection means it's very likely those swimmers are gettin' dangerously close to your frontlines every time you... well.
• So... you got detention—I mean, pregnant, and you have just about, oh I don't know, ZERO idea how to tell your golden retriever of a boyfriend.
• Morning sickness present and accounted for, you head to Cho who tells you you've been carrying a super baby for seven weeks.
• SEVEN WEEKS!!!
• So birth control was a fuckin' lie. With Steve Rogers, at least.
• Exhausted, all you want to do is pass out on the couch and wake up like it never happened.
• Now let me tell you... Steve Rogers is fucking omnipotent or some shit. You walked out that door at nine am this morning and he just knew something was up.
• You're back through the door at nine forty-five looking up at your pouty boyfriend who just wanted some TLC.
• "You're up early," you say, shaking off his scowl and reaching up to comb your fingers through his sleep-mussed hair.
• He takes you in his arms and right up against his body, drowning you in warm and his sweet scent. Like honey and early morning dew.
• He smiles when your fingers curl into his tee shirt collar and you sigh against him.
• Then he's nothing but confused when you tap his chest and bolt into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.
• His sunshine girl is now bent over their toilet hurling up what was left of the half a bagel she managed to stomach this morning.
• "You alright in there, honey?" he coos, voice still gravelly with sleep. It is a Sunday after all. Ten o'clock is a late start for him. Believe it or not.
• "Doc says I caught a—" something lands in the toilet bowl and he winces a little "—stomach bug. Should clear up in a few days."
• You peek out a few minutes later to see your concerned cutie running a hand through his still untamed hair.
• He goes in for another hug, needing his arms full of you, when you poke his chest and frown.
• "I don't wanna get you sick."
• "Hey, I'm super immune, lest we forget. It'd take some serious biological warfare to even give me a common cold."
• "Then consider my body a battlefield."
• "Don't think thats how it works." He sidles up behind you, molding his body into the shape of your own with his lips hot on your neck.
• No wonder you're pregnant.
• "Off, off. I was just at the doctor's, I smell like hand sanitizer." You change into a sweatshirt and a pair of his sweats and lay down on the bed.
• Steve kneels beside you, level with your head to grab your hand and rub over the soft skin oh so gently.
• "Need anything?" he whispers, brushing your hair out of your face, "Water? A massage?"
• "Any excuse to get your hands on me, huh?" He winks and pecks the tip of your nose.
• "I'll make us some tea," he chirps, bounding into the kitchen.
• Truth be told, he knows you're pregnant.
• He's know since Wednesday. Take his word for it, hearing three heartbeats in a room with two people is shit-your-pants terrifying.
• He shuffles back into the room and hands you a mug, sitting beside you and mindlessly drawing his hand over your waist as he takes a sip of his own tea.
• The silence calms you and give you time to think. If you just told him, how would he react? There's no doubt in your mind that Steve Grant Rogers was practically born to be a father. You're sure he'd be the best father any little kiddo could hope for.
• But you've only been together eight months.
• Is that enough to start a family?
• "I gotta go shopping before the crowds kick in," he mumbles, baby blues finding you with a sweet smile that erupts butterflies in your tummy. Or the little hellraiser in your uterus is taking after their rowdy father already. "Any special requests? Maybe some chocolates? Pea puree?"
• "What?"
• "Nothing, babygirl. I'll be back in an hour." He leans down to kiss your forehead before practically sprinting from the apartment.
• Suspicious...
• You manage to rise from the bed fifteen minutes later, scavenging for anything and only finding a bottle of ketchup and a few chunks of cantaloupe.
• Shutting the door to the fridge, you trudge to the couch and flop down with a groan.
• And you can't help but picture what your life could be like in a few years.
• You and Steve and your little ray of sunshine (and a splash of sleep deprivation). But wouldn't it be wonderful? Family walks though central park. Family zoo trips. A family. With Steve.
• And you must've zoned out because the door swings open to steve carrying three and a half bags of groceries. And a bouquet.
• You're on your feet in a second. "Need any help—"
• "No, nope! Nuh-uh, you just sit down and relax. I got it covered," he says, golden hair flopping down over his forehead as you watch him slip into the kitchen with a heavy sigh.
• You tiptoe after him and stand in the doorway, tugging at the hem of your shirt. He glances over his shoulder at you and smiles.
• "Did'ya have some fun alone time, honey?" he says, putting a bag of chips on the highest shelf. Damn you, Steve Rogers.
• "Actually... I was thinking." You wander over to him, hopping onto the counter. You miss the way his eyes widen, senses alert in case you missed and stumbled accidentally.
• "Uh oh, sound the alarm, my girl's been thinking again."
• You swat at his bicep and frown as he giggles to himself.
• "I'm serious, Steve."
• He looks up from the head of lettuce in his palm and sets it back in the bag, turning to face you.
• "You only call me Steve when you're angry," he mutters.
• "I call you Steve 'cause its your name."
• He's not convinced.
• You take a shaky breath in when he pushes your knees apart and steps between them, nestling himself between your thighs. He taps your chin until you look up at him.
• "What's on your mind, honey?" he whispers, pressing his lips to yours for a moment.
• He pulls away to tuck your hair gently behind your ears in hopes that you'll just tell him in time.
• Your spine straightens with a deep breath in, coming out in a shaky exhale. This is worse than that public speaking course you took a few years back.
• And that was a nightmare.
• But this... God, this.
• You've got a pair of soft blue eyes on you and a little parasite growing inside you because those blue eyes wander. They wander far.
• "I'm pregnant," you blurt out.
• He fights a grin and rubs at the back of his neck, bowing his head as he shifts his weight onto his other foot.
• "Yeah..." he says, "I know." And those nerves dissolve into your angerey alter ego that know how to curse him out like no other.
• "What do you mean you know? I tossed out the test and everything! Did Cho call you?" He chuckles and shakes his head. "What are you? Sherlock Holmes? Did you check for prints or something?"
• He shakes his head once more and takes your hands in his, kissing the backs of each and looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.
• "I've got enhanced senses, honey, did you expect me to think you had a second heart implanted in there?" He pokes at your sternum playfully.
• "Plus, don't get me wrong—I'm not an expert on female anatomy or anything—but I don't think boobs usually grow that fast. I'm not complaining, though—"
• "Steven Grant Rogers! You are a nasty little pervert!" He shields his face with his hands at the accusation before pressing them to the counter on either side of your thighs.
• "Hey, you showed 'em to me. You expect me not to look when my girl's got her shirt off?" He barks out a fit of laughter when your jaw hangs open.
• He presses the crown of his head to your chest as you scratch the back of his head and he leans his weight into you.
• "So you're not mad?" you whisper, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.
• You gasp when he slides his fingers over your abdomen, warmth spreading over your skin at a single touch.
• "Mad?" he whispers, scrawling words letter-by-letter into your skin with the pad of his thumb. "How could I be mad?"
• "You're gonna be the mama to my kid."
• He says it like it's impossible. Like his wildest wishes have just been granted and then served to him on a golden platter.
• Then he starts to mumble softly, bending at the knee until he's face to face with your belly button and rucks your shirt up around your rib cage.
• He whispers inches from your skin, "She's so pretty, you're gonna love her. We're gonna be great parents. You'll see."
• He smiles and presses a wet kiss to your tummy as he holds your waist.
• You're suddenly overcome by a wave of realization.
• You're carrying Steve Rogers's child.
• He blinks at you, a smile blooming across his cheeks when he wraps his arms around you.
• "Can't wait to meet 'em," he huffs. You scratch gently up and down his back until he purrs and nestles further into you. "God, I hope they look like you."
• "This better be one damn attractive bun in my oven."
• "My compliments to the baker," he teases, kissing your cheek as he picks you up and carries you to the bed.
• And thus began your fun sized family. Lord knows Steve will only push for more offspring once you've got a toddler waddling around.
• But for now its you and Steve and the little them growing inside of you.

• Bonus:
• Finding out it's a girl!
• "We should name her Liberty. You know, 'cause—"
• "Because I'm Captain America, ha ha, very funny, babygirl."
• "I'm dead serious."