rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

s. rogers + his soft artsy side

"i'm going down to make some tea, you want anything?" you ask steve, moving the blanket off your lap.

as you pull on your slippers and stand up, steve examines the contrast between your soft frame and flowing clothes against the geometric city skyline behind you.

"wait, wait." steve puts down his sketchbook and graphite. throwing off the blanket, he pulls you by the wrist towards the edge of the roof. gingerly, he makes you sit down on the concrete ledge.

your face gets hot as he positions your limbs and hands, arranging your cardigan until it hangs on your frame exactly the way he wants it

he usually reserves the determined look on his face for combat and captain-ing, but getting this right is just as important

he adjusts the tilt of your head, a gentle finger under your chin, guiding you towards a perfect pose.

now, he needs you to smile. he smacks a quick kiss to your lips to make you giggle

then he backs up, pulling his phone out of his pocket. he takes several pictures of you from slightly different angles.

"okay, you can go."

you lean a little bit further into your pose, watching him coyly. "i'm your sitter! i'm supposed to stay here for hours with you lookin' at me."

"with the wonders of modern technology, i don't need you to sit there," he responds cheekily. he waves his phone at you, saying, "got my references right here."

"but i like being admired," you confess, relaxing your body and moping back towards him.

"i'm always admiring you."

he settles back on his chair, picking up his sketchbook. you lean down, lips less than a centimeter from his. "you never answered my question. do you want a cup of tea?"

he pinches your side, making you giggle. "yes please."