rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

crystal clear (s. rogers x gn!reader)

"boo!"

"fuck." steve flinches, the slender fingers of his left hand flexing around the armrest of a small metal bench just outside SHIELD's headquarters. "are you trying to kill me?" his head turns to look, but he doesn't quite meet your eye. "i have several heart conditions."

you shrug, vaulting over the bench to plant yourself at the opposite end. "you're fine."

steve wrings his hands but offers you a small smile. for a moment, you admire the way the afternoon sun cuts through his blond hair.

"can i see?"

he digs into his shirt pocket to retrieve his glasses, one of the temples snapped clean off, and a lens scratched to shit.

"jesus, steve."

"yeah, yeah."

he hates when you do this, but for a single moment, you allow yourself worry about him, unsure why or how his office job resulted in such destruction.

shaking it away, you reach into your purse for his spare pair safely tucked into a black clamshell case.

his fingertips brush the soft leather, but you pull it away a split second before he can take it from you, delighting in his frustrated groan.

"wait, i wanted to know." you adjust your pose, throwing a flirty leg over the other, leaning against the armrest, and turning your chin up a bit. you hope you look coy, almost aloof. "if i sit this far away from you, would you be able to tell that it's me? without your glasses?"

"sure." he chuckles, waving a hand over you. "it's all your same shapes. the lines are just fuzzy."

you frown. "my shapes?"

a reddish color tinges his cheeks, his eyes darting away. "i like your shapes."

you cut your distance from him in half, grinning and poking his shoulder. "so from here, you'd definitely be able to tell, huh?"

steve hums. "'cause you smell nice."

you close the distance, fitting your body against steve's lean figure. "and from here—" his far hand traces your jaw, coaxing you close enough so his soft lips can find yours. the broken pieces of his glasses clink together quietly as he closes them in a fist.

you hum contentedly, trying to drown out the sounds of pedestrians and new york traffic. trying to imagine that you're alone with him.

"i gotta get back to work." steve opens the glasses case that you belatedly realize he stole from you, fixing the plastic frames over his nose.

a pout. "i guess."

he scrunches his nose at you, so cute that you fantasize about kissing him again. "thanks for bringing me my glasses."

he squeezes your waist, flushing when your arm sneaks into his jacket to tug him even closer.

"see you at home?"

you can hear his heartbeat, faint and steady through the layers of fabric. "yeah."