Steve Rogers Imagines

Couldn't talk yourself out of it?

And when Steve answered his phone on that Monday and her voice was barely above a bashful whisper he wanted to chuckle but kept it swallowed. When she needed him to pick her up because her car was towed away to some lot because she forgot that street cleaning is an apparent necessity. 'Stop laughing, Steve! I wouldn't laugh at you. Just come get me please I'm cold.' And she didn't let him say anything about it until they were home.

So when he was stopped this morning driving back from the gym he knew what it was like to be Y/N for a few moments. Maybe not the whole stepping into her shoes but a part of it. A part of her shoe. And it wasn't because he missed a stop sign, a faulty brake light or a parking meter. The prideful, the saint on the road Steve was caught speeding.

It's a Saturday and not that Saturdays make a difference but Y/N doesn't go to the gym. And she certainly doesn't see why she has to.

He made her pant and breathe uneasily for the good portion of the early morning before he had to tear himself away and she fell back asleep. Because she gets far too sleepy after and she doesn't see why he has to go fit in another work out before noon.

It's a Saturday and they have all the ingredients for pancakes.

So when she got up and put his shirt back on she more or less switched to auto pilot. Pancakes on a Saturday are a habit she hopes to keep up with. She'll remember about the healthy habits next week.

He thought she'd be sleeping away this morning when he'd come back. It is a Saturday after all but she's in the pancake mood it seems. He thought he'd have just enough time to hide it good enough so she won't find it until he pays it and after.

"Thought you'd be asleep." He looks up from the door he'd tried to close softly.

"I was, and then I wanted pancakes." She laughs.

"Worked up an appetite?" He grins.

"Don't flatter yourself," she rolls her eyes. "I don't need you to want pancakes."

"That's good," he smiles. "Not good to be too dependent."

She looks at him curiously, looking for something but not finding it yet. She can't put her finger on it quite yet. But she isn't rattled because she always can. Steve is not very good at hiding things.

"You're being weird." She decides. She can't pinpoint exactly what he's done, what he's thinking and why he's this way. So she decides with weird. And that will jump start her trail she's sure.

"I'm not being weird." He chuckles nervously and she sees right through that too.

"That's what someone who's being weird says when they're trying to cover up the fact that they're being weird." She says ladling more batter into the pan. As always, he tries to wrap his head around his girlfriend's logic...and it usually doesn't fit together like the puzzle she sees.

"I'm always weird." He shrugs. "Could be that."

"No, no don't think so." She stares at him for a moment trying to gather the details. There's something there she just can't fit it with something he's done, doing, planning or thinking. And Y/N starts to think she's losing her edge. But perhaps it's something new, and that's why she can't match it with anything he's done in the past. This too, will be archived.

"No?" He attempts to question authentically.

"No." She replies shortly.

"Well," he smiles. "When you figure it out let me know." He attempts his turn to leave the kitchen.

"What's that?" She points to what's in his hand with her spatula.

He looks down at what he's holding in his hand even though he knows exactly what it is. "This? Nothing just some junk mail." He cautiously hides it behind his back.