rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

s. rogers + his protectiveness

"you've been quiet all night," steve comments, stirring his soda with a straw.

you shrug, staring blankly down at the half-empty plate sitting in front of him. you thought you had fooled him, but apparently not. you reach over and grab one of his leftover fries.

"my uh..." you exhale shakily. "my car got keyed last night."

you watch his hands curl into fists, refusing to make eye contact with him.

still, you can tell he wants to say something, a dozen things, but he lets you continue.

"it's not easy being captain america's SO," you comment bitterly.

"what does that mean?" he frowns.

"i dunno, steve."

he waits.

then, the thoughts that had plagued you all night finally spill from your lips.

"there are people at work who make these backhanded comments, like wow, it's so nice that he would go for someone like you and asking shit like what's it like being with such a busy, important guy?"

he reaches over the table to hold your hand, not caring that your fingers are still a little salty from the fries.

"and after years—years, okay?—of working at this company, they're finally inviting me out to drink on friday nights, and we all know it's just because they want me to bring you," you rant.

he sighs, brushing his thumb over your hand once before moving out of his seat and into your side of the booth.

your voice gets quiet, since he's closer now. "and... fuck, i should have told you this. i'm sorry."

"stop," he pleads.

your voice trembles, making you feel pathetic. "i get recognized, sometimes. just like, at the grocery store minding my own business, and these gross men follow me around asking about you and about our sex life, just out in fucking public, and it's so fucking vile—"

steve pulls you to his chest, and tears start falling from your eyes. he pauses for a long time to see if you have more to say, but you're only crying now. "i'm sorry," he whispers, lips pressing to your forehead. "i'm so sorry."

fuck, you think. you should have kept your mouth shut.

"thank you for telling me. i'm gonna fix this."

"steve, i don't need you to fix this." you press your crumpled face into his chest, hating that you gave him another thing to worry about. he doesn't do anything but rub your back soothingly.

after a few minutes, once your breathing has regulated, he says, "here's the plan." using a little bit of his captain america voice, he declares, "first, we're ordering you a milkshake. a big one. all the works."

you laugh for a second, half-heartedly.

"tomorrow, we're gonna take your car to tony's and get it all fixed it up."

you whine softly. you don't want tony to get involved.

"then, you're breaking your lease and you're moving in with me."

that makes you fully start crying again. "i can't afford—"

"i can," he says decisively.

"steve—"

"i've been meaning to ask you anyway," he interjects again, "to move in with me."

your hand forms a weak fist, scrunching up his sweater.

"finally," steve says. "we're going to one of your work functions. and i'm gonna be so uninterested in anything anyone else has to say, and i'm gonna look at you and talk about you all night like you're the greatest thing to ever happen to me, because you are, and anyone who makes you feel any less than that is getting their fucking ass kicked."

quickly, he gets the attention of one of the servers and orders your favorite shake.

after they walk away, you sniffle. "too much."

"it's not too much," he insists. "if anything, i shoulda done it sooner."

he nudges you until you finally look him in the eye.

"you deserve to be safe and happy." he strokes your cheek with gentle fingers. "it's not too much, baby."