MCU Imagines

Fight With Me - Steve Rogers

A/N: written on my phone because of a quick inspiration. enjoy!!! ps this was posted on the other book containing only Bucky and Steve Imagines. so please do add that book to your private library for updates cause that's the one getting updated from now on.

Warnings: arguments, fluff, sexual themes (nothing graphic), sad!steve and reader

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Steve never asked you for much.

He always stood against the counter during any meal times, letting you rummage through cabinets and the refrigerator to see what you wanted to make and eat. He followed you around when you two were out shopping, letting you pull out shirts, put them against his chest, and then choose whether or not he was going to buy it. He would sit down whenever you asked him to, stand if you ever needed him to, and lay down beside you when you had a long day.

If you ever asked him for any advice, he would shrug and grin, saying you were better off deciding.

You usually frowned nowadays, wondering why he never put forth his own two cents. You were willing to listen, you had never shut anyone down before. So it confused you to no length when he never put his thoughts out on display for you.

"What's that frown for?" Steve asked, glancing over at you from where he was cutting the green peppers.

You shook your head and turned away, unable to stomach Steve's closed responses anymore. It had gotten to a point where you were beginning to think he was never in this relationship to begin with. That this relationship meant nothing and he was just here to past the time. And who were you to just turn up dating someone as kind and handsome and caring and popular as Steve fucking Rogers.

He was Captain America for fuck's sake.

He had woman lining up behind him, begging for just one chance with America's golden boy. And here you were with that one chance, hoping and praying to whatever god you decided to believe in that he wasn't in love with you. Not like this. Not if he was going to let you make every single decision. Not if he wasn't even going to fight for you if you made a bad choice.

"Y/N?" Steve tried, voice full of concern and worry.

You two had never fought. Not even once. Just because you were the one making all the verdicts. There was never an argument from him after you made a choice. He just accepted it and went on with his life as if it never effected him. As if your opinion was all he ever wanted.

That was true. It couldn't be true, you knew that.

You saw the way he hid his grimace when he bit into a dish he didn't quite like as much as you. He hid it well, but he had his little giveaways; the way his mouth quirked slightly, or the way his left eye twitched, or the way his leg started bouncing. He would rarely wear the salmon-coloured shirt—the one you never liked either and got for him anyway, hoping to engage him in an argument. It didn't work. He took it in and housed it, thanking you and giving you compliments on your style.

Your frown deepened.

"Y/N?" Steve was standing beside you then, looking at you with the same concern that was laced into his voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yep," you replied, popping the 'p' and then muttering, "as much as I can be."

"What d'you mean, love?" Steve's eyebrows furrowed and you said nothing, mentally cursing his super-hearing. You moved backwards to where Steve was and grabbed the cutting board with the cut green papers on them. You poured them into the sauce and ignored Steve's pursed lips.

"Did I do something?" Steve grabbed your elbow gently when you started to move away from him again.

"No, you didn't do anything and that's the problem," you finally answered, tone a bit snappy and harsh, but you were too into your head to notice it. Steve let your elbow go, his blue eyes firmly locking you in place when he caught your eyes.