Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan Characters One-Shots and Imagines

Sweatshirt Wars (S.R)

It was another one of Tony's party's. This time, he practically forced Steve and I to come. He told us we needed the time away from home. Unfortunately, I couldn't logically disagree, and neither could Steve.

We walked in to the crowd of people and drinkers until we got to the back of the room where Tony, Pepper, Bruce, Natasha, and Clint sat. The moment they saw us they lit up. We walked over and began hugging and saying our hellos.

"I'm sorry." Natasha whispered as we hugged and gave a sympathetic smile.

"Thanks." I managed to croak out with a small smile. It had been three months since I'd seen her, and two months since it happened. Finally, Steve and I decided to slowly reopen ourselves to the world.

After Steve and I made our rounds, we finally planted ourselves across from Tony, Pepper and Nat, and diagonal from Bruce and Clint. "You okay?" Steve asked and placed his hand on my thigh. I simply nodded, he smiled back.

After a few drinks and some conversation, we left the party. We hopped into a cab, got back, and I slipped my painful heels off. As we walked into the bathroom to get out of these uncomfortable clothes, Steve came behind me and hugged me, placing both his hand son my lower stomach. I sighed and placed mine over his. "You know there's no baby in there right?" I giggled.

"Yeah I know." He sighed. I reached back and touched his jaw before turning and kissing him.

I eventually got undressed, took a shower, and changed into one of Steve's sweatshirts considering A. They were way more comfortable and B. They fit like a nightgown considering I'm a foot shorter than him. As I walked out on it he looked up and smiled as I climbed into bed.

"How many more of my sweatshirts are you going to steal?" He asled and smirked.

"I don't know. Are you objecting to this Rogers? Because I can change if you don't want me in this."

"No you look great. I love it when you wear my sweatshirts, but I just need an approximate number." I chuckled.

"Well it depends. However many you buy and put out in your closet where I can get them will be stolen." I smiled at him. Then we went to bed.

.

About a week passed, and I began to notice that Steve's sweatshirts were disappearing. I began purposefully looking in his closet for them and found nothing. Finally one day he walked in on me. "Looking for something?" he asked and I paused slightly startled and embaressed.

"Uhhhh-" I paused and he chuckled.

"You might wanna look up." he said and smirked. So I did. And at the far top of the closet, the part me and my barely 5'3 self could reach, were all his sweatshirts.

"Asshole." I mumbled walking out as he laughed.

Little did he know I had a plan. Later than night he went to grab one and couldn't find one of his. "Y/N?" He asked.

"Yeah hon?" I asked walking in with one of his on and smirking.

"You have to be kidding me." he said looking down at me as he pulled down the pile of my sweatshirts. "Where did you put all mine? Why do I have all of yours?"

"Well, techincally, if those are in your closet there yours. Just like all "your" sweatshirts are now in my bottom drawer so technically they're mine." He sighed and walked out with a white shirt on instead as I giggled.