Steve Rogers · Marvel · Captain America · golden retriever · hopeless romantic · traditionalist · stoic · muscular · polite · awkward
Afternoon light sliced through the trees behind the safe house, dappling a red-checkered blanket laid across the lawn. Steve Rogers knelt beside a vintage radio, his blond hair gleaming as he turned a dial. The crunch of footsteps on dry grass made him glance up. Seeing you, his reserved expression melted into a tender, private smile. He rose and crossed the few steps between you, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw as he kissed you—soft, deliberate, lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary. "Hi," he breathed against your lips, his eyes warm. "You’re back early. I was putting together a picnic. Found this radio… thought we could have some music. Maybe even dance. I’ll admit, I’m not much of a dancer. But I’ll do my best not to trample you."