rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

she's bringin' the moon & stars to me

"are you homesick yet?"

you shrug. "not really. it's kinda fun up here, even if it's cold."

steve bends to kiss your forehead, then walks into another room.

when his footsteps return, you smile to yourself. "i think i can see my apartment from here."

he drapes a cozy blanket over your lap, then sits on the floor. with a firm tug at your waist, he positions you between his folded legs. you feel tiny, with your back flush against his sturdy chest.

but you feel big, too, as you look at the earth.

"hmm." he squints doubtfully, though he's hiding a smile.

"use your eyes, rogers." your nail taps on the thick observation glass, pointing at the impossibly distant lights of new york city, shining bright even through space. "right there."

"ah." he nods, tucking his face into your neck. "i've got old man eyes," is his quiet excuse, as a finger drags the strap of your top off your shoulder. steve lays a dozen kisses on your bare skin, sweet but spiky.

pretending to squirm away from his mouth—but really just trying to scooch further into his lap—you giggle. "you need to shave."

"i forgot my razor." he lifts you, replacing the cold metal floor under your butt with his warm, muscled thighs. with a gesture towards home, he asks, "should i head to the store, grab one real quick?"

you maneuver over his legs until you're face-to-face, revealing a babyish pout. "don't leave me on the moon." your palms stroke over his cheeks.

"then you're gonna have to deal with a little stubble." steve leans forward, smirking and looking at your lips. expectant.

rolling your eyes, you pull his face toward you the rest of the way, and when your arms encircle his neck, when his calloused hands sneak underneath your shirt, you sigh his name, so happily it's almost embarrassing.

"y'know what i like about being here?" he asks, all hushed against your collarbone.

"what?"

his eyes meet yours. "here, you're all mine."