rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

we can let it burn (firefighter!steve rogers)

you frown, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

steve peers at you through his eyelashes, giving you the laziest smile as he lies completely horizontal on the couch. "c'mon, i'm sore," he insists, arms outstretched to welcome you.

hesitantly, you situate your body until you lie directly on top of his strong torso. rather than tensing under your weight as you had feared, his overworked shoulder and back muscles melt into the cushions, and he exhales his fatigue away.

you wait until his eyelids flutter shut before you rest your cheek against the worn material of his t-shirt. with your thumb, you outline the fire station emblem printed on his chest. a steady, slow heart beats in your ear, close and comforting.

almost enough to lull you to sleep, but then a hand moves to pinch your butt.

"hey." you swat it away, but steve just moves it to span across your thigh.

he chuckles weakly. his work-worn fingers graze your soft skin. "you still mad at me?"

you stop tracing the emblem, instead covering it with your palm as you arch up to really look at him. "i'm mad at everybody else." his dull nails trace the delicate dip of your spine until you slacken into his body again. this time, you nuzzle your forehead to his collarbone. "seriously, your birthday?"

24 hour shift. 8am on july 4th to 8am on july 5th. just the thought of it makes you want to march into that station, give his lieutenants or whatever a piece of your mind.

"i'm the rookie, baby." he sneaks under your blouse, raising goosebumps along your lower back. "i get the shifts nobody else wants."

with a sour look, you cross your arms and rest your chin there. "when do you stop being the rookie?"

"when they hire a new guy."

"sucks," you mutter.

his fingertips retreat from your skin, moving to rub at his forehead. "what really sucks is the 4th of july shift. you know how stupid people get around fireworks?" you grasp at his hand and push forward to kiss away all the stress lines between his brows.

you hum, dotting gentle pecks over his nose and the apples of his cheeks. "maybe i shouldn't bring those sparklers to sarah's barbecue."

"y'know." he clicks his tongue thoughtfully, his eyebrows lifting. "if you want to see me on my birthday, that'd be the way to do it."

"steve rogers." your mouth falls open. "are you endorsing arson?"

"i'd tell 'em it was an accident so you don't get in trouble." he laughs, his chest shaking underneath you. "just wanna see my best girl on my birthday." he pouts.

you make a phone out of your hand and hold it to your ear. "911, my friend's backyard is on fire."

after placing three more leisurely kisses down his cheek, then four against his jawline, you're whispering against his lips, low and sultry as you try suppressing the giggles erupting in your throat. "please send your sexiest rookie firefighter, as soon as possible."