rodrikstark's headcanons (part 2)

s. rogers + teaching you how to drive

you turn into the parking lot of the mall, and release a pathetic exhale. with conscious effort, you relax the chokehold you've kept on your steering wheel for the whole twenty minute drive, wincing at your stiff fingers.

steve pats your thigh. "alright, my turn."

throwing your car into park, you unbuckle the belt, move your seat back, and exit. steve's already there to kiss the top of your head as you hurry to the passenger side.

with a few quick adjustments, steve pulls into a tight parking space with confidence. you would've driven around for three extra minutes, trying to find a space completely devoid of surrounding cars, even if it was a hundred yards from the entrance.

you wipe at your face. he makes it look so easy.

steve switches off the ignition and lowers the volume on the speakers. then, he leans across the console to draw you to his chest. "so good, baby." a squeeze. "i'm so proud of you."

at his words, your handful of tears devolve into a sharp sob. fingernails scrape at his shoulders as you perch at the edge of your seat, wishing that he could surround every single inch of you with weight and warmth and reassurances. "really?"

"you used your signals, you were checking your mirrors. it was perfect."

a fist clamps into his cotton shirt. "i ran over that curb."

"that's okay, i do that sometimes. all that matters is that my girl's safe."

you shove your face into his warm, smooth skin, vaguely embarrassed for the mess you make in the curve between his neck and shoulder. "m'sorry for crying." your churning heart wants to leap out of your chest. "i don't know why i'm like this."

his low-pitched shushes breeze against your skin. "i love you."

"you'll drive on the way home, right?" you hiccup.

"like i promised."

steve rubs your back in time with his own slow, rhythmic breathing, and waits patiently for your inhales and exhales to sync up.

you can't say how long it takes, but you think you count two or three songs from your driving playlist before you decide that you'll be okay.

steve always says that, you'll be okay, and he never breaks his promises.

"let's walk around for a bit then get some ice cream."

the image of you sharing a chocolate banana split affords you enough strength to pull away from him, the back of your hand moving to absorb the last of your tears. "okay," you say softly. "i deserve it."

he grins big. "you do."