rodrikstark's headcanons (part 4)

s. rogers + piggyback rides

"baby?" he scans the apartment. "have you seen my shield?"

"think fast!"

he would have had to think a lot faster if you hadn't announced yourself. steve lets out an oof for dramatic effect, but he barely budges. "i take that as a no?"

it should be hanging by the door on the customized array of hooks he installed a few months ago. you accused him of forgetting it; maybe a new location by his motorcycle keys and avengers compound lanyard would help.

in reality, he just hated toting it around sometimes. at best, it becomes an open invitation to ask him for a picture. at worst, a literal target on his back—mostly kids throwing rocks.

it weighs on him more than he'd like to admit.

he helps your scrambling legs hook over each hip. "i'm your shield now." you nuzzle his neck. "i protect you from the bad guys."

steve smirks, reaching with both hands to tickle your waist. "does that mean i can toss you around?"

"no!" you slap him away.

the shield can wait. his eyes fall to the mess on the counter. "what's this?" he asks, although he can already tell: cupcake trays, butter coming up to room temperature, and a giant bowl of batter.

"it's a surprise."

"what did i do?"

"for sam." your frown is audible. he pats your thighs with a laugh. "didn't his sister just have a baby?"

"so none of this is for me?"

"it's not always about you."

it's his turn to pout, earning him a smacking kiss on the cheek.

a very sheepish finger directs his attention to the couch, and when he rises onto his tiptoes, he spots the curve of the shield. "i used it to carry the groceries. the bag ripped while i was going up the stairs."

"aww." steve turns, straining to place a kiss on your lips this time.

your eyes open dreamily when he finally lets up. "how long d'you think you could carry me before getting tired?"

instead of answering, he spins and plants your butt on the counter. he misses you around his hips though. "is that a challenge?"

"that's an i miss you," you say, allowing him to maneuver your legs to his liking, blindly displacing the baking supplies. "that's an i wish you didn't have to work so late..."

"what if i came home with some sturdy, reusable grocery bags?" he grins. "something real special."

"for me?"

"me?" he returns mockingly. "yeah, you."

"can you also get sprinkles?" you manage to say, even with him trying to stop you. nipping at your lips, dragging you right to the edge of the counter. "we're out of the sparkly ones."

"anything," he promises. "anything you want."