"do you have to look at him like that?"
"oh my god," you exclaim—all feigned enthusiasm meant to flatter the target. tilting your head, you wonder if there's a way to press the mute button on your earpiece discreetly enough. "i've never been there, what's it like?"
"what? sweetheart, we were there last month."
wherever steve sits, monitoring this operation from afar, your sudden burst of laughter probably irks him.
the truth is, you didn't hear the response from the man in front of you; steve's hasty interjection drowned it out. it's the urgency of his reminder, the childish call for your attention, that amuses you.
you want to tell him: you remember last month just fine.
it was your first real trip. not for work—no mission protocols weighing down your luggage or agents blowing up your phone. and not the kind of weekend-only jaunt where the driving alone eats up eight of your precious hours together.
it was all sea salt breezes, the polar opposite to new york at this time of year. every sweet treat you spooned into steve's sunny smile contained at least one tropical fruit, and you're still finding sand in your shoes.
it was your first anniversary.
your thumb tucks into your palm, itching at your temporarily empty finger.
thankfully, the guy seems charmed, despite your ignorance to whatever he just said. "excuse me." you stand and straighten your clothes. "i have to use the restroom."
he nods. "want a drink? on me."
"you pick." a flirty nudge of your hip earns you a grin.
once you've rounded the corner, you pretend to answer your phone. "rogers."
"sweetheart," he returns, all drawn out.
of course he would be so lax about this, jeopardizing your performance, your work. "do you want the location of this chitauri weapons operation or not?"
"i'm only—"
"yes or no?"
steve sighs, a gust of wind in your ear.
"good," you mutter, "so you're gonna shut up, and let me stroke this guy's ego until he gives me what we need, or i'm gonna mute your ass."
he sounds a little sad. "don't say it like that."
a moment of confusion. "what?"
"i don't want you stroking this guy's anything, okay?"
you don't know if you're out of steve's sight by now, or if he can see you smile. "you're such an asshole."
even with the tinny audio, steve's laughter still sounds warm. "i love you too."
YOU ARE READING
rodrikstark's headcanons (part 4)
Fanfictionmore headcanons from tumblr. personal favorites will be marked with a * [cross-posting from my ao3]
