rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

s. rogers + first time cuddling

you're supposed to be posing.

the second you had finished your fourth mini sandwich and drained the last of your lemonade, you had flopped onto the picnic blanket, arms languidly outstretched over your head. warm, dry grass combing through your fingers.

"do you mind if i draw you?"

your eyes narrowed behind your sunglasses. "you draw?"

"if i see something beautiful."

with only two weeks of dating steve under your belt, those compliments had not yet lost their impact.

"um, sure."

after discarding the paper plates and positioning the empty picnic basket just so, he had withdrawn a blue pen and a tiny sketchbook from his pocket. while you lazed in the sun, he rearranged you half a dozen times. smoothing your blouse, dotting a kiss on your nose to get you to smile.

for almost ten minutes, you fought the urge to doze off. you've never fallen asleep around him—the vulnerability of that sounds slightly terrifying.

plus, god, how could you miss this? he looks so soft, in his loose linen shirt, the tip of his pen pushing his bottom lip between his teeth. sky-blue eyes and sun-golden hair.

something flutters in your stomach, and you sit up halfway.

"wait," he protests, clambering to you, a hand on your shoulder coaxing you back into position. "i liked you like that."

you hook your fingers into his collar, drawing him down with you. "like what?"

"actually, you're good." a low chuckle tickles your neck, a little behind your ear. "i like you just like this."

blindly, your hand finds his sketchbook and pen, tossing them somewhere. steve settles his side against you, his arms scooping under your waist to flip you onto his chest.

your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and his thuds underneath your palm.