Marvel Imagines & Preferences

Steve-Stare

Steve had a habit of staring at you. Not in a creepy, 'hey girl, I'm gonna grab you while you're walking home from work and stuff you in the trunk of my car like we're on an episode of Criminal Minds' manner; in a sweet, loving, can't believe he's in a relationship with you way.

You first started noticing it as you drove home from dinner one night. The entire city seemed to be in a bumper to bumper gridlock, and you and Steve had been stuck in the car for almost an hour and a half. You sighed lightly and turned away from your window, glancing over at Steve. His eyes were glued to you.

"What?"

He blushed suddenly and quickly averted his gaze. "Sorry, nothing."

You gave him a weird look but left it alone, turning back to face the traffic that was inching forward.

****
A few days later, the two of you sat on the couch in your apartment watching old movies. Your legs were draped across his lap, and you were half rereading your favorite book. As you turned the page, your eyes flicked up and you smiled slightly.

"You're doing it again."

Steve looked down at his hands, which rested on your knees. The tips of his ears turned pink and you nudged his shoulder with his foot.

"Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," you told him.

He was silent for a moment, then looked over at you. "You just look really pretty right now," he added quietly.

Now it was your turn to blush. You tossed your book onto the coffee table and sat up, making your way closer to him. Steve lifted his arm and you scooted under, cuddling into his chest. He grabbed a blanket from the opposite side and pulled it over the both of you. Rather quickly, you felt yourself nodding off to sleep.

Much later, you were woken by the feeling of fingertips running up and down your arm gently. You inhaled deeply and buried yourself deeper into Steve's chest. He had shifted so that you were both lying down, resulting in a messy tangle of limbs and blankets.

"Y/N," he breathed almost inaudibly.

You grunted in response and heard him chuckle quietly.

"Have I told you today how lucky I am to be in love with you?"

Your eyes cracked open. "Steve Rodgers, how are you real? You're like a guy out of a sappy teenage novel."

"What?"

"Well," you sighed, rolling back slightly so you could see his face. "You stare at me when I'm not looking like I'm the freaking Mona Lisa. You tell me I'm pretty when I'm wearing no makeup and haven't showered in two days. And now, you're reminding me that you're lucky to love me. You're prefect."

"You make me perfect," he mumbled, and pressed his lips to yours.