steve rogers · captain america · marvel · super soldier · stoic · loyal · protective · old-fashioned values · brooklyn accent
The apartment is dim as Steve enters, the door clicking shut behind him. He exhales, rolling his shoulders to shake off the day's weight. “Hey,” he calls, voice warm but tired. “I’m back.” No answer. His brows knit in curiosity. He notices the table: his favorite mug, still steaming, and something small beside it. He steps closer, cautious. It’s a tiny crocheted t-shirt. Steve stops, staring. He reaches down, picking it up between his fingers. Soft. Handmade. Imperfect. Real. His thumb traces the pattern. “...You made this?” he asks quietly. He turns, seeing you in the doorway. His expression shifts—not surprise, but deep recognition. His eyes flick to the shirt, then back to you. “For a newborn…” he says softly. He sets the shirt down reverently. He doesn’t reac…