all i ask of you (s. rogers x f!reader)

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by rodrikstark

by rodrikstark

"what are you wearing?"

for a moment, steve feels bad. it's not that he didn't like your original idea for a couple's costume, peanut butter and jelly—'cause i'm sweet, and you're salty—but you did bust out your sewing machine so you could create something up to your high standards.

though, comparing that to the hours he spent cobbling together his current outfit, he doesn't feel that bad. in fact, his expression falls at your confused face. "isn't this from that thing you like?"

you drop your berry-colored cardigan on the couch, sticking out your bottom lip as you approach him. "are you the vicomte from the phantom of the opera?"

those words sound vaguely familiar. "yes?"

"oh." you sniffle. "you look so good, stevie."

you're being shy, but it's incongruent to the shameless way you're touching him, tracing the gold striping his chest and testing the thickness of the fabric at the hems.

he owes natasha a million favors. "thanks, baby."

"are you gonna serenade me?" you whisper, twisting at a button before meeting his eyes.

"absolutely not."

eventually, you scrunch your nose. "let's stay home tonight."

he knew you were going to suggest that, and the heartbeat in his ears is his cue to sneak behind the kitchen island and find the garment bag he hid away. "why?"

"well, i kinda wanna just look at you," you confess sheepishly. "plus, now my costume sucks compared to yours." your smile is sweet and sad.

he braces himself. "okay, baby..." a firm nod. "wanna close your eyes for me?"

what kind of boyfriend would he be, to dress as one of your favorite characters, and leave you in the peanut-butter-and-jelly dust? but you can tell just how much effort it took to fulfill this first half of your wish. and you'd never dare ask for more, let alone expect it.

this struggle glimmers behind your eyes. but then, because you trust him, and you love him, they close.

you cup your hands together, like it'll be a tiny thing. instead, steve lays it across your forearms. "natasha has some ballet friends, and they had an old dress, so we modified it, like the length and the color, and the stars..." his own contributions are far from perfect, but he's glad his ma taught him how to sew a little. "do you like it?"

steve wishes he could see your face, but you shove it into his shoulder and whimper. "it's so pretty."

"it's yours," he answers softly, pressing his smile to your temple. "go change, we're gonna be late."

after a moment, you slip underneath his arm, laughing. "stevie..." you push him toward the bedroom, half-clinging to his waist. "you have to help me put it on."

"oh—" he hadn't even realized that that would be part of it. but with few nudges, steve goes willingly; he could never say no to you. "even better."