rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

s. rogers + admiring his freckles

you tickle your fingers across steve's cheeks like you're playing the piano, giggling at his smile. "so many freckles."

steve, laying back in bed and half-heartedly tilting his head to watch the tv blocked by your body, just hums.

one leg on either side of him, you lean forward to rest your head on his shoulder. "how come they don't show up when you do press conferences and stuff?"

"they put makeup on me," steve answers. his nails scratching lightly at your lower back.

you gasp gently. "really?"

"mm-hm. america's perfect man can't have imperfect skin."

despite the tiny bit of bitterness in his voice, you fight back a grin. "does this mean i can put makeup on you?"

"you hate the freckles that much, huh?"

"no, i love them." you feel bad for even giving off that impression, so you sit up again and dot kisses all over his cheeks. "but i mean, steve. your lips, your eyelashes. come on."

"what about them?" he watches you now, curious.

"you're so beautiful."

all the shit he's gone through, killing aliens and giving government officials the finger and saving people's lives, and he's still visibly flustered at your compliment. his head shakes, disbelieving.

"please, baby?" you whine, giving him the biggest pout ever.

a gentle finger under your chin guides you down until he can press his pretty pink lips to the apple of your cheek. "fine. can we wait 'til after the movie, though?"

you grin in triumph before settling into his arms.