Untitled
Steve Rogers - Independence Day
Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any characters within, nor do I own the reader or even the reader-insert story style. I own nothing. Fantastic.
A/N: Post-Avengers, pre-Winter Soldier. I’ve only watched it once and I understand Steve more in Avengers than TWS.
Independence Day – Steve Rogers
One thing you had learned early on in your relationship with Steve was that he absolutely loved the Fourth of July – Independence Day. An entire holiday dedicated to celebrating the United States of America.
He hadn’t had much time since he had become unfrozen to enjoy America and how it had changed. He had been quite busy being an Avenger and helping his newfound teammates and friends save New York from various aliens and evil masterminds.
So you can imagine that upon your reminder to him that the Fourth of July was only a few days away, he was quite ecstatic. He had gone all out, shopping at every store he could find (with you driving, of course, as cars had changed a lot over the past seventy years), buying up nearly every Independence Day flag, champagne class, centerpiece, and firework in their possessions.
As soon as you pull your car into the driveway of your shared apartment, Steve jumps out and rushed to the back, yanking open the trunk and hastily grasping at the shopping bags, carrying three bags per hand into the apartment. His excitement boosts him so fast that you barely have time to throw your car into “park” before you push the driver’s door open and step out, digging your keys out of your pocket in your haste to beat him to the door so you can unlock it. You giggle as he rushes into the house and slowly walk back out to your car to fetch the remaining bags and close and lock the doors.
By the time you make it into the apartment and close the door behind you, he’s already pulling every single item out of their plastic bags and organizing them on the table, scattering them here and there, deciding what should go where. You watch him with a soft smile as you drop your keys onto the table beside the front door and kick off your shoes. You let your jacket drop from your shoulders and drape it over the back of the armchair that sits on the edge of your living room. You step closer to the table, offering to help your boyfriend sort the decorations and then hang them, but he insists on doing it all himself. You can see the sparkle in his eyes as they scan all the merchandise that he bought, just like a child scanning the mountain of presents beneath the Christmas tree.
“How about you take all of your toys to the living room and I’ll get started on the baking?” you offer, moving to stand beside your man and standing on your toes to kiss his chin. You’re not overly short, but his Captain America body makes him over six feet tall, which is too tall for you to reach his face without a little bit of effort.
He turns to you and smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. He nods eagerly, grabbing armfuls of his decorations and carrying them to the living room adjacent to the kitchen. He transports all of his items to the living room floor and lays them out, scattering and organizing just as he had on the kitchen table. You shake your head fondly as he “ooh”s and “awe”s over his toys. You fish your personalized cook book from the cupboard beside the fridge and opened it to the “Cookie” section. You thumb through the pages until you find “Sugar Cookies” and begin fetching the necessary ingredients. You dig out your favorite cookie dough mixing bowl from the cupboard beneath the counter and read off the measurements from your book, pouring the appropriate amount of each ingredient into the bowl. Once the dough is mixed, you maneuver the existing items in the fridge around in order to make room for the large mixing bowl. Sugar Cookie dough has to chill before it could be turned into cookies.
While waiting for that, you flip through the pages of your book to find “Cakes.” You find a simple white cake recipe and gather the necessary ingredients, digging out your favorite cake mixing bowl as well. You also fish a couple bottles of food coloring from the baking cupboard before returning to the bowl and mixing the ingredients.
Once the batter is mixed, you fetch a glass baking pan and grease it with butter before pouring the batter into the pan. You snag the spoon from the bowl and stuff it in your mouth, savoring the delicious taste of white cake batter. You then turn your attention to the batter waiting to be baked and grab the food coloring, squeezing droplets of red and blue dye into the white batter. It swirls on its own, mixing into a red, white and blue confection waiting to be cooked. Smiling to yourself, you open the door to the pre-heated oven and shove the pan in, setting the timer and sauntering into the living room to check on your boyfriend.
A rope suspending a dozen miniature American flags is pinned with staples above the front door. Flag-printed pinwheels sit on either side of the TV. Red, white and blue streamers are strung across the room, crisscrossing on the ceiling, pinned to corners of the apartment with staples and thumbtacks. A brand new fleece blanket, blue with red and white stars, is draped gracefully along the back of the suede loveseat, giving the beige couch a splash of color.
“Oh, Steve,” you breath in awe. “It looks wonderful!”
Steve smiles and stands, walking over to you with an item in his hand. He kisses your forehead. “I’m glad you like it. It feels good celebrating America again.”
You watch as he walks to the kitchen table, placing the item he had been carrying in the center. It’s a paperweight wrapped in shiny, starry wrapping paper, with red, white and blue balloons floating up from it.
He walks back to you and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your nose. You giggle and tilt your head up to capture his lips. “Is that all?”
“Nope,” he grins. “There are more decorations for the porch.”
“Show me!” you insist, jumping slightly. He chuckles, plucking the final two shopping bags and taking it outside. He reaches into one and produced three short glasses, three bags of marbles, and a handful of miniature flags attached to sticks. He spaces the glasses out upon the porch railing, filling each glass three-quarters full with red, white and blue marbles. He then sticks three flags into each glass. You smile up at him as you watch how much love and care he puts into his decorations.
He reaches into the other bag and pulls out a long rope with dozens of red, white and blue stars attached, similar to the rope with the miniature flags. He sauntered through the opening of the porch, circling around to the front to pin the stars across the banister. From the same shopping bag, he produces thin poles with bunches of red, white and blue tinsel at one end, similar to a cheerleader’s pom-poms. He sticks them into various plants and other miscellaneous objects that decorate the porch. You smile as he returns to your side.
“It’s perfect,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He wraps an arm around your back and kisses your nose.
“Almost,” he says.
He chuckles at your furrowed eyebrows, reaching his free hand into the last grocery bag, returning with two miniature star-spangled top hats. Each is attached to a string meant to go beneath your jaw. You raise a brow as he removes his hand from your back to set the hat on your head and stretch the string around your face. You snag the other hat from his hand and copy his movements, placing it on his blonde head. He kisses you sweetly, wrapping his arms around your waist while you wrap yours around his neck, pulling each other closer.
An unpleasant but familiar beeping sounds from within the apartment and you pull away with a grin. “The cake is done.”
You lace your fingers with his and pull him into the apartment, leading him to the kitchen. Slipping on a pair of oven mitts, you open the oven and retrieve the freshly baked multi-colored cake. You set it on the stove to cool and remove the mitts, heading to the fridge to retrieve the cookie dough. You giggle as his face lights up – you recall him admitting to you that sugar cookies are his favorite, a factoid that you had kept with you for several months.
You fish wax paper out of one drawer and a rolling pin from another, as well as several flavors of frosting and tins of colored sprinkles from the baking cupboard. Placing the equipment and decorations on the table, you lay the cookie dough between two sheets of wax paper and rolling it out.
“Could you get the cookie cutters from on top of the fridge, please?” you request of your boyfriend, turning to shoot him your most innocent eyes and smile. He returns the smile, fetching the large bag of questionably shaped cookie cutters with ease. He hands you the bag, which you set on the table. Once the dough is rolled out on the paper, you open the bag and offer Steve to pick a few shapes. He eagerly digs through the bag, producing a large heart, a large flower, a five-pointed star, and an eight-pointed star. As he begins penetrating the dough with the cutters, you fish through the bag yourself, selecting a bunny, a cat face, and a Captain America shield. He raises a brow at you upon noticing the detailed shield, clearly confused as to when and where you came into possession of it. You giggle.
“Shortly after The Avengers formed, merchandise for you guys started showing up everywhere. T-shirts, headphones, posters, you name it. I happened to find Avenger-themed cookie cutters at the store, so I bought some,” you explain.
“Do you have the others as well?” he wonders.
You nod and dig through the bag again, retrieving Iron Man’s mask, Thor’s hammer, Black Widow’s symbol, the Hulk’s face, Hawkeye’s bow, and even Loki’s helmet.
“They even have stuff for Loki?” Steve wonders incredulously.
You nod again. “He’s not quite as popular, but he’s got some followers.”
Steve shakes his head and continues cutting the dough. You smile and help, throwing in various Avenger cookie cutters. You sprinkle a few of the cookies with red, white and blue sugar crystals before setting the stray of shapes into the oven, rolling out more dough as the first batch bakes.
Once all of the dough has been shaped and baked, you and Steve decide to relax on the couch while everything cools. You can’t very well frost cookies or a cake if it’s too hot.
Steve is lying on the couch, his head resting against one arm, eyes closed peacefully. You’re lying on his chest, snuggled safely in his arms, your own arms tucked into his sides. You lift your head slightly to press a kiss to his jaw, catching his attention. He smiles and tilts his head down, pressing his lips to yours. You sigh contently before returning your head to his chest, soon falling asleep, listening to his heartbeat.
A/N: Post-Avengers, pre-Winter Soldier. I’ve only watched it once and I understand Steve more in Avengers than TWS.
Independence Day – Steve Rogers
One thing you had learned early on in your relationship with Steve was that he absolutely loved the Fourth of July – Independence Day. An entire holiday dedicated to celebrating the United States of America.
He hadn’t had much time since he had become unfrozen to enjoy America and how it had changed. He had been quite busy being an Avenger and helping his newfound teammates and friends save New York from various aliens and evil masterminds.
So you can imagine that upon your reminder to him that the Fourth of July was only a few days away, he was quite ecstatic. He had gone all out, shopping at every store he could find (with you driving, of course, as cars had changed a lot over the past seventy years), buying up nearly every Independence Day flag, champagne class, centerpiece, and firework in their possessions.
As soon as you pull your car into the driveway of your shared apartment, Steve jumps out and rushed to the back, yanking open the trunk and hastily grasping at the shopping bags, carrying three bags per hand into the apartment. His excitement boosts him so fast that you barely have time to throw your car into “park” before you push the driver’s door open and step out, digging your keys out of your pocket in your haste to beat him to the door so you can unlock it. You giggle as he rushes into the house and slowly walk back out to your car to fetch the remaining bags and close and lock the doors.
By the time you make it into the apartment and close the door behind you, he’s already pulling every single item out of their plastic bags and organizing them on the table, scattering them here and there, deciding what should go where. You watch him with a soft smile as you drop your keys onto the table beside the front door and kick off your shoes. You let your jacket drop from your shoulders and drape it over the back of the armchair that sits on the edge of your living room. You step closer to the table, offering to help your boyfriend sort the decorations and then hang them, but he insists on doing it all himself. You can see the sparkle in his eyes as they scan all the merchandise that he bought, just like a child scanning the mountain of presents beneath the Christmas tree.
“How about you take all of your toys to the living room and I’ll get started on the baking?” you offer, moving to stand beside your man and standing on your toes to kiss his chin. You’re not overly short, but his Captain America body makes him over six feet tall, which is too tall for you to reach his face without a little bit of effort.
He turns to you and smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. He nods eagerly, grabbing armfuls of his decorations and carrying them to the living room adjacent to the kitchen. He transports all of his items to the living room floor and lays them out, scattering and organizing just as he had on the kitchen table. You shake your head fondly as he “ooh”s and “awe”s over his toys. You fish your personalized cook book from the cupboard beside the fridge and opened it to the “Cookie” section. You thumb through the pages until you find “Sugar Cookies” and begin fetching the necessary ingredients. You dig out your favorite cookie dough mixing bowl from the cupboard beneath the counter and read off the measurements from your book, pouring the appropriate amount of each ingredient into the bowl. Once the dough is mixed, you maneuver the existing items in the fridge around in order to make room for the large mixing bowl. Sugar Cookie dough has to chill before it could be turned into cookies.
While waiting for that, you flip through the pages of your book to find “Cakes.” You find a simple white cake recipe and gather the necessary ingredients, digging out your favorite cake mixing bowl as well. You also fish a couple bottles of food coloring from the baking cupboard before returning to the bowl and mixing the ingredients.
Once the batter is mixed, you fetch a glass baking pan and grease it with butter before pouring the batter into the pan. You snag the spoon from the bowl and stuff it in your mouth, savoring the delicious taste of white cake batter. You then turn your attention to the batter waiting to be baked and grab the food coloring, squeezing droplets of red and blue dye into the white batter. It swirls on its own, mixing into a red, white and blue confection waiting to be cooked. Smiling to yourself, you open the door to the pre-heated oven and shove the pan in, setting the timer and sauntering into the living room to check on your boyfriend.
A rope suspending a dozen miniature American flags is pinned with staples above the front door. Flag-printed pinwheels sit on either side of the TV. Red, white and blue streamers are strung across the room, crisscrossing on the ceiling, pinned to corners of the apartment with staples and thumbtacks. A brand new fleece blanket, blue with red and white stars, is draped gracefully along the back of the suede loveseat, giving the beige couch a splash of color.
“Oh, Steve,” you breath in awe. “It looks wonderful!”
Steve smiles and stands, walking over to you with an item in his hand. He kisses your forehead. “I’m glad you like it. It feels good celebrating America again.”
You watch as he walks to the kitchen table, placing the item he had been carrying in the center. It’s a paperweight wrapped in shiny, starry wrapping paper, with red, white and blue balloons floating up from it.
He walks back to you and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing your nose. You giggle and tilt your head up to capture his lips. “Is that all?”
“Nope,” he grins. “There are more decorations for the porch.”
“Show me!” you insist, jumping slightly. He chuckles, plucking the final two shopping bags and taking it outside. He reaches into one and produced three short glasses, three bags of marbles, and a handful of miniature flags attached to sticks. He spaces the glasses out upon the porch railing, filling each glass three-quarters full with red, white and blue marbles. He then sticks three flags into each glass. You smile up at him as you watch how much love and care he puts into his decorations.
He reaches into the other bag and pulls out a long rope with dozens of red, white and blue stars attached, similar to the rope with the miniature flags. He sauntered through the opening of the porch, circling around to the front to pin the stars across the banister. From the same shopping bag, he produces thin poles with bunches of red, white and blue tinsel at one end, similar to a cheerleader’s pom-poms. He sticks them into various plants and other miscellaneous objects that decorate the porch. You smile as he returns to your side.
“It’s perfect,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He wraps an arm around your back and kisses your nose.
“Almost,” he says.
He chuckles at your furrowed eyebrows, reaching his free hand into the last grocery bag, returning with two miniature star-spangled top hats. Each is attached to a string meant to go beneath your jaw. You raise a brow as he removes his hand from your back to set the hat on your head and stretch the string around your face. You snag the other hat from his hand and copy his movements, placing it on his blonde head. He kisses you sweetly, wrapping his arms around your waist while you wrap yours around his neck, pulling each other closer.
An unpleasant but familiar beeping sounds from within the apartment and you pull away with a grin. “The cake is done.”
You lace your fingers with his and pull him into the apartment, leading him to the kitchen. Slipping on a pair of oven mitts, you open the oven and retrieve the freshly baked multi-colored cake. You set it on the stove to cool and remove the mitts, heading to the fridge to retrieve the cookie dough. You giggle as his face lights up – you recall him admitting to you that sugar cookies are his favorite, a factoid that you had kept with you for several months.
You fish wax paper out of one drawer and a rolling pin from another, as well as several flavors of frosting and tins of colored sprinkles from the baking cupboard. Placing the equipment and decorations on the table, you lay the cookie dough between two sheets of wax paper and rolling it out.
“Could you get the cookie cutters from on top of the fridge, please?” you request of your boyfriend, turning to shoot him your most innocent eyes and smile. He returns the smile, fetching the large bag of questionably shaped cookie cutters with ease. He hands you the bag, which you set on the table. Once the dough is rolled out on the paper, you open the bag and offer Steve to pick a few shapes. He eagerly digs through the bag, producing a large heart, a large flower, a five-pointed star, and an eight-pointed star. As he begins penetrating the dough with the cutters, you fish through the bag yourself, selecting a bunny, a cat face, and a Captain America shield. He raises a brow at you upon noticing the detailed shield, clearly confused as to when and where you came into possession of it. You giggle.
“Shortly after The Avengers formed, merchandise for you guys started showing up everywhere. T-shirts, headphones, posters, you name it. I happened to find Avenger-themed cookie cutters at the store, so I bought some,” you explain.
“Do you have the others as well?” he wonders.
You nod and dig through the bag again, retrieving Iron Man’s mask, Thor’s hammer, Black Widow’s symbol, the Hulk’s face, Hawkeye’s bow, and even Loki’s helmet.
“They even have stuff for Loki?” Steve wonders incredulously.
You nod again. “He’s not quite as popular, but he’s got some followers.”
Steve shakes his head and continues cutting the dough. You smile and help, throwing in various Avenger cookie cutters. You sprinkle a few of the cookies with red, white and blue sugar crystals before setting the stray of shapes into the oven, rolling out more dough as the first batch bakes.
Once all of the dough has been shaped and baked, you and Steve decide to relax on the couch while everything cools. You can’t very well frost cookies or a cake if it’s too hot.
Steve is lying on the couch, his head resting against one arm, eyes closed peacefully. You’re lying on his chest, snuggled safely in his arms, your own arms tucked into his sides. You lift your head slightly to press a kiss to his jaw, catching his attention. He smiles and tilts his head down, pressing his lips to yours. You sigh contently before returning your head to his chest, soon falling asleep, listening to his heartbeat.