Steve Rogers Imagines

Late Night

 Hey Everyone, I really wonder in how long I haven't updated. AM so sorry to all the people who look forward to reading this book. Thank you so much for voting and commenting, it's so nice to read the comments really. This one is a bit cheesy but I hope you like it!! Thanks again for reading!

He wasn't expecting her to be awake when he got home that night. She never usually was, though she always told him she would be. Every time there was a late night during shooting, he'd always tell her, "Late night. Don't wait up." And she would always respond with something along the lines of, "I don't mind! I'll stay awake this time. I promise." But she never did.

Chris didn't mind. If anything, he found it endearing. She would make empty promises to still be awake by the time he got home, but more likely than not he would come home to find her passed out in various places throughout the apartment. Usually, he found her on the couch, but sometimes he found her in more adventurous places—at the kitchen table, in the bathtub, and even on the steps up to the bedroom. Sometimes she would text him to tell him she'd be in bed when he got home but that she wouldn't be asleep; she would definitely stay awake this time no matter what. That, however, was usually not the case.

Like tonight, for instance. Chris hadn't heard from her in a few hours and figured that she was asleep. Usually when that happened, it was his cue to wrap things up in the studio and get home to go to bed. Chris and y/n's internal clocks worked very similarly in the sense that when she was sleeping, he was tired. If she was buzzing on caffeine, he felt restless. Chris thinks it's more of a deep, spiritual connection between the two of them rather than a similarity in internal clocks but, nevertheless, he loves feeling so close to her. The entire drive home, he ponders which room of the house he's going to find her sleeping in; what position she's curled up in. The thought alone makes his chest burn with anticipation and the butterflies in his tummy float around anxiously. The fact that y/n can still give him butterflies after all this time is enough indication to him that she is, most likely, the one he's meant to spend his whole life coming home to.

So when he gets home, he's a bit surprised when he doesn't see her curled up on the couch. Not bent over the kitchen table with her face buried in her arms. Not resting her pretty little head on the steps because "she was just too tired to walk the whole way up." He searches high and low for her and finally comes to the conclusion that she must've crawled up into his bed (though at this point, it may as well be their bed) and forgotten to send him a text.

Sure enough, when he peeks his head in the door to the bedroom, he sees sleeping her with her phone in her hand. Wrapped up like a little burrito. A little y/n burrito that he just wants to devour in one bite.

Yes, he was expecting to see this picture upon his arrival at home. But what he wasn't expecting was for it to be this damn cute.

A soft, nasally laugh escapes through his nose as he slides his coat off of his back and steps into the room. He places it lightly on a chair and tries his best not to wake her as he tiptoes clumsily around the room. He removes his clothes and remains only in boxers before slipping into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He hopes the sound of the water doesn't wake her and is happy to see upon arriving back into the room that it hasn't. In fact, she hasn't even moved from her little burrito.

It's the cutest thing Chris thinks he's ever seen. She's lying on her tummy with her face tucked so deeply into the covers that the only things he can see are her messy hair (still damp from a shower, Chris guesses) and her eyes. He steps closer to her, holding his breath lest he wake his sleeping beauty. He knows the thought is cheesy and, had she been awake, she would giggle and tell him he was a dork for having that thought, but he wouldn't take it back. She really is beautiful 24/7. Its unreal to Chris.