Steve Rogers Imagines

McDonalds

WARNING: Honestly, this one is so cute, you'll fall in love with this!!!

Also I badly wanted to update for human doritos's bday but my wifi was crashing real bad so sorry bout that!

Tumblr: steveandyou

..................................................................................................................................................................

"So where'd you like to eat tonight?" You slip your hoodie on and bounce on the balls of your feet. It's Friday again, the day of the week you and Steve go downtown and pick somewhere new to try. An inhumanly loud gurgle escapes your stomach at the thought of the Indian place that just opened up down the street. Images of you shoving spoonfuls of lamb curry down your gullet drift through your brain. You smile beatifically.

Steve puts on a brown leather jacket and grabs his keys from the kitchen counter. "Hmm, how about McDonalds?"

You stop mid-bounce and stare at him.

"What, seriously? That's where you wanna go?"

Steve raises an eyebrow at you and quirks his mouth.

"Ms. (Y/L/N), you've picked our Friday Face-stuffing spot for three weeks running now. It's my turn." To your chagrin, he saunters over and picks you up in his arms, carrying you towards the door. "We're going to McDonald's."

—–

"Wait, so, that'll be one large Big Mac value meal, one order of twenty chicken nuggets, one McRib and one extra order of large fries?"

Steve beams like it's his first Christmas. "Yup."

"Okay, that'll be-"

"Wait," You gingerly raise a hand. "I haven't ordered yet."

The kid behind the counter gawps.

"Uh, I'll just have a Filet O' Fish value meal. Medium. Thanks." Your grin is stretched so tight across your face it feels more like a grimace.

Smiling sheepishly, Steve forks over some cash. "I probably shouldn't have so much of this stuff, but you know how it goes. Can't YOLO with a froyo."

—–

"Can't YOLO with a froyo??" You fold your arms across your chest and laugh, wide-eyed, in horror. "Oh my God."

Steve sits down on the park bench with you and sets about unwrapping his spoils at breakneck speed. "What? I'm pretty sure I used both those words right."

"It's – nevermind." You watch the man as he hoists his McRib to his face and practically inhales it. "Okay, slow down mister. No one's placed a fatwa on your dinner."

Steve pretends not to hear you as he picks up the chicken nuggets and shoves two into his mouth at the same time, making his cheeks bulge. You briefly wonder whether you're sitting next to a man or a hamster.

"Where on earth does all this even go anyway?" Pangs of envy riddling you like bullets, you gesture violently at all the food spread on the bench. "If I ate all of this, I'd turn into a Buick in two days. In your case, all you'd go on to do is clog someone's toilet. None of this," you wave your hand at his chiseled biceps, his rock-solid abs, "would even grow an inch of flab."

Your man glances up from his rapidly dwindling nuggets. "No problem. I'll just have Tony cook you up some serum. Then you'll be able to eat all the junk you want, in exchange for having to save the world with your bare hands just about every other week."

You punch him in the shoulder and let out a huff.

"Whatever, jerk. When that stuff wears off, you're gonna be in the same boat as me." You shove a fry into your mouth. "We'll see how much you like McDonalds when you have to work it off on the treadmill like us normal human beings."

"Sweetpea, if the serum wears off, I'm not even going to be able to make it to the treadmill without rupturing a lung," Steve says drily, sparing you a small smile before moving onto his Big Mac. Jesus, look at him holding it tenderly like it's his firstborn. You're torn between smacking the thing out of his hands and kissing him for being so damn cute. "I'd also turn the tables and make you give me piggyback rides everywhere. Let you see how it feels to have some tiny thing cling to you and scream "faster!" in your ear every five seconds."

"Are you sure you're still talking about piggyback rides?" You shoot him a sly smirk and teasingly fondle his shoulder. Steve chokes on his bite of burger and blushes.

"I'm not even going to comment on that," he says, suddenly appearing very interested in the flowers of a neighboring bush.

You edge closer to him, a devilish grin on your face. "What's the matter, Captain? Losing your appetite?"

Steve picks up your Filet O' Fish and playfully shoves it in your mouth. "Are you going to eat your food or not?"

You giggle through your burger and take a bite. "Yes, sir."

The two of you continue to eat in comfortable silence, feeling the humid summer night settle around you like a blanket. Every now and then, a breeze picks up, rippling through your clothes and hair.

After ploughing through the last of his food, Steve wipes his hands clean and turns towards you, his eyes deep with a quiet affection.

"For the record, I'd love you, no matter what size you are." He smiles and your stomach flips. "Unless you don't stop changing my ringtone to Party Rock Anthem, of course."

You punch him again, your voice bubbling with laughter. "You're terrible."

"Well," Steve ruffles your hair and plants a greasy kiss on your forehead before stealing the rest of your fries. "Serum doesn't fix everything."