rodrikstark's headcanons (part 4)

s. rogers + scars

wrinkling your nose at steve, you shove out a limp arm for his inspection. the thin, criss-crossed gauze reminds you of a crappy mummy costume. "oh, c'mon. you like when i baby you."

you've endured this routine multiple times a week, steve stubbornly pointing you to the bathroom counter while he perches on the bathtub, rubbing helen's salve into your skin. her instructions were uncomplicated enough that you could do this yourself, but you're pretty sure steve likes babying you, too.

you nudge his shin with your foot. "maybe a little."

"does it still hurt?" he asks, unwrapping your injury.

"no." the pads of his fingers touch your healed wounds oh-so-gently, like you're made of the glass that caused them in the first place. "but, steve?" you suck in a breath. "i don't wanna put on any more of the salve."

his brow furrows. "it's gonna scar."

"they're already healed." you stand firm, willing your bottom lip to not tremble from embarrassment. "plus, i think it looks cool."

apparently, you are not very convincing.

"don't tease."

he drops his cheeky smile. "i wasn't going to."

"the only scar i have is here." you gesture to a barely-noticeable discoloration on your thigh. "when my cousin accidentally spilled hot soup on me when i was little." steve leans forward, placing a kiss there. "you have so many cool scars. it's not fair."

all shapes and sizes too, lacerations and punctures and scrapes. across the small of his back, on his bicep, down his leg. he's relayed all the tall tales to you, but there's so many that you're starting to get them mixed up.

he smirks. "so falling on your ass in the middle of a dance club is a cool scar story?"

"yeah, if it's because natasha romanoff was being awesome," you reply, scowling.

"i don't want you glorifying the life my friends and i have," he says, in contradiction to him replacing the salve inside the drawer to comply with your ridiculous request. "it's dangerous."

"i'm not." you thumb the pale, raised skin on the left side of his collarbone. "when it happened, you were the first person i thought about, y'know."

steve, you said to maria, who helped you off the floor. you were so hurt and scared over something so stupid. steve's gonna be pissed.

he faces all that fear, and worse, almost every day.

"these scars makes me feel closer to you." you nod. "so i'm keeping them."

steve shakes his head. "i love you, have i told you that?"

you scratch at his soft hair when he kisses your thigh again. "i love you too."