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“Do you need help with that?”
You peeked your head to the side of all the boxes stacked against your chest, your arms stretched tight while cardboard ridges jabbed hard at the skin of your biceps and near your armpits.
“Steve I can hold these. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” You took two steps before he moved into your way and you skidded to a stop, the boxes nearly slipping through your fingers even with all the pressure you put on your muscles to maintain a decent grip.
“I don’t want you to—” he grabbed the boxes from your hands, “—overwork yourself. You haven’t taken a break since we started this morning.” He turned before proceeding up the stairs of the home.
“You did call me here to help you.” You sighed, following him up the second story after grabbing some of the curtain rods leaning beside the bottom of the staircase.
Steve took fast steps up the stairs yet to show any signs of sweat while you watched your feet, careful not to trip yourself on one of the steps again.
“And you’ve helped more than you know already.” He laughed, turning into the hall after reaching the top of the stairs. You tailed behind before ending up in his new room. Walls just recently painted a cool, light bluish-grey, white trimming running along the floors and ceiling. Boxes were stacked in the corner, his bed in the center while the mattress leaned against the wall.
Both of you dropped your items along with the rest. You huffed and stretched your arms out. “I mean if you compare me to Bucky,” you giggled, before shrugging, convinced, “he’s helped more than me.”
Raised brows dropped, hands suddenly on his hips: “well you’re better company than him for sure. Buck gets too focused during things like this. I can barely keep a conversation with him until.”
You smirked and mimicked his stance, arms bent to your hips. “So you only wanted me to help keep you company?” You watched Steve scoff.
“And to give me my house-warming gift,” he joked, words elongated with sarcasm in his velvet voice.
You rolled your eyes, before shaking your head. “You realize I’d feel guilty if I wasn’t actually helping carry things with you two.”
Steve stepped closer to you, within arms embrace before patting your back and leading you both out the room.
“And that’s why you’ve done more than enough. Come on; I bought some pasta this morning. Let me warm it up for everyone.”
You laughed as both of you quickly made your way down the stairs.
“Should I start digging out for the plates in the boxes?” You teased him, looking back to get a glance at the blond super-soldier.
He grinned. “Just go find Bucky. I’ll get the plates.”
You held your fingers in your other hand, tilting it slightly to get a better look at your polish, surprised that you haven’t chipped it at all today.
“You picked a nice color for sure.”
You looked to Bucky, sitting in front of you at the dining table, barely cleared. Boxes upon it pushed to the other side just to make enough room for the three of you.
Steve was just to your left, separated by the kitchen counter where even more open boxes were scattered over the countertops, his poor struggle to find the plates.
He should have listened to you when you told him to add more detail to the box labels.
A smile plastered itself across your cheeks. “Thanks. Glad it held out strong after everything.”
Bucky turned his head over to Steve, and you followed him. “Probably because wonder boy wouldn’t let you do the heavy work to let them chip.”
A kitchen towel swiftly smacked itself straight against the brunet’s face, catching you both off guard while Steve glared at his friend with sharp daggers. Though it didn’t stop as the two of you laughed at his embarrassment, his ears infamously flaming red.
“You’re a gentleman, Steve.” You tried your attempt to calm him down. “I think it’s sweet.”
He didn’t answer you, busying himself with serving the pasta in plates before bringing them over to the table.
The steam radiated off the penne, and the smell of the basil pesto and chicken was welcoming and powerful. You couldn’t wait to stab your fork into the creamy pasta and spinach leaves.
“Were we gonna get utensils with this?” Bucky looked up to Steve.
“I found a ladle if you want to use that,” Steve said, his tone hard, annoyance still obvious to Bucky’s earlier comments.
“Ah— I can go look through the kitchen again.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” Steve looked to you, holding his hand to keep you from getting up off of your chair. “I was just about to get them.” He smiled at you before turning back and walking around the marble counter, searching through the boxes on the floor.
Bucky passed you an empty mug, pulling the bottle of bourbon from the other side of the table.
“Glad we don’t have to worry about looking for the cups though.”
You laughed at him while he twisted the cap off and poured you half a cup. The fat white mug, with some witty coffee caption filled bourbon.
It was unorthodox, but the situation called for it.
“Is that Steve’s?” You asked, pointing to the alcohol, Bucky finally pouring it into his own mug--dedicated with a small cute cartoon picture of the Falcon.
“Well to be fair, I got this for him.” He plopped the bourbon at the center of the table before grabbing his own cup and holding up to you. “And since today is such a special occasion—”
“I actually wanted to save that,” Steve deadpanned from across the room. You giggled, not feeling sorry enough about indulging in his supply. “Could you two have at least waited for me before drinking through my only house-warming gift.”
“But it’s a special occasion,” Bucky echoed again, but Steve yet again gave him no attention, going back and scouring across the kitchen for those forks. You both watched him until Bucky turned to you.
“He doesn’t know does he?”
You shook your head and hand in front of James, mouthing the words ‘don’t’ to him. “He doesn't need to know,” you whispered.
Bucky eyes grew wide, brows raising as he tilted his head. You listened to him sigh, his hands suddenly digging into his jacket before pulling out a small thin brown box, tied by a black and gold twine.
“Wanda said this wouldn't be too intimate of a gift,” he said, sliding it to you.
Oh no…
“Happy birthday Y/N—”
Utensils clattered against the countertop, and you spun your head to the kitchen, Bucky following your reaction at a much slower pace. You could hear a fork slip and clang to the floor as Steve marched up to you.
“Today’s your birthday?”
You stared up at him, with no choice but to tell him; “yeah—”
“I can’t believe you came here on your birthday. You should have told me.” He paced back to the kitchen before turning around to you again. “Bucky why didn’t you tell me? I would have never planned to move everything in today if I knew.” Steve walked back to you, finally pulling out his chair and sitting next to you. “You should have said something,” he whispered.
“Steve, it’s okay.” You tried to dissipate his guilt and worry. “It’s not important to me! Really! I wouldn’t be here if I had plans for my birthday. Besides, bourbon and dinner is honestly more than I was expecting. This is perfect.”
It still stung Steve as you made your way back into the kitchen to grab the utensils for dinner. He still asked about your birthday, and you shrugged it off every time. You told him that your last few birthdays weren’t that exciting anyway, so it was nothing for him to worry about.
The three of you ate then, though it was obvious to you that Steve was more quiet than usual. Luckily though you and Bucky could keep enough conversation to hide the awkwardness. You even opened Bucky’s gift over dinner, surprised at the thin necklace with the initial of your first name dangling from it.
It was a sweet gift.
It was a sweeter day.
You couldn’t have asked for more.
He had you wait in his car before he came to you, coming back after a private conversation with Bucky.
“Are you trying to marry her?” Steve seethed.
“It’s just a necklace Steve, calm down,” Bucky said with raised hands. He walked with Steve to the front door of the house.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“I thought you knew,” Bucky teased his friend, “I was expecting cake at the end of today.”
“We are not done with this conversation.” Steve unlocked the door before heading out. “When I get back—” he hissed, unable to complete his threat when he popped open the car door, sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Got what you needed?” you asked him before he turned to you.
“Yeah.” Steve closed the driver’s door before clutching the wheel with both hands. You shifted in your seat until he took too long to start the engine.
You already knew what was bothering him. “You okay Steve?”
He chewed his lip before sighing. “I’m so sorry I forgot.”
“Steve, you don’t need to feel sorry. I never told you. You shouldn’t feel guilty when you don’t need to.”
“But it’s just,” he huffed and leaned his head back before looking at you, “you are the kindest person ever. You don’t think about yourself at all when it’s actually you that deserves so much.”
You pressed your lips together flustered by his confession, turning your head back to the driveway. How could you respond to that?
“Steve…” He waited for your response. You held the tiny box in your hands tightly.
You chose not to wear the necklace he got you tonight, sure enough that it would sour Steve’s mood even more.
The blond looked down at the box, your thumb running over the black and gold thread. He couldn’t control the next words that left his mouth.
“Marry me.”
“What?” You spun your head to him, jaw-dropped shocked. Steve immediately turned away, the tips of his ears and cheeks once again flaming read.
What was he thinking?
“Stev—”
“I’m sorry,” he blabbered, turning his face away and starting up the vehicle. “I-I—” he stuttered, before driving you out of the curve, “I shouldn’t have said that. I’ll take you home.”
You turned away from him, burying your hands under your thighs.
“That would be a huge birthday gift.” You turned to him, chuckling. “I wasn’t expecting that at all—”
“You don’t have to say anything. It was stupid; I don’t know what came over me. Let’s,” Steve fumbled with his words, “let’s just drop it.”
He didn’t look at you, either too embarrassed or too ashamed. It could have been both honestly.
Your eyes flicked down, his hand on the wheel while the other rested on his lap. You gnawed your lip, chest tightening as you nearly turned away, though you stopped yourself short. Instead, you pulled out your hand from under your thigh and let it flow freely, guided by the winds of your desire before resting over his hand, fingers curling to hold him tightly.
Steve quickly looked to your hand before turning to you.
He stopped the car at a red light as your thumb began swiping against his knuckles. Your head was turned away from him. Steve watched your body shake, but his chest swelled with air.
You were nodding.
Steve squeezed your fingers in his hand. He turned his eyes back to the road as the signal on the intersection turned green. He rotated the wheel, u-turning the car.
“Hold on.”
It was lucky enough that there was a 24-hour bakery open.
An older bakery, with bleached text on the windows and peeling paint on the outside of the building. It’s neon lights shined above you while you watched Steve inside from his car, waiting for him as he conversed with the store owner while he made his order.
Your fingers tangled themselves in the black and gold twine of your gift while you waited for him.
He finished in no time, bells dinging as he opened the bakery’s door and stepped out. You turned to the driver’s seat before he slipped in.
“Happy birthday.” He smiled, before passing the white box plastic fork to you and you took it eagerly, looking down at the fat slice of cake under the plastic window. The dark chocolate frosting smooth and drizzled walnuts and sprinkled sea salt at the edge. Saliva quickly pooled your mouth.
You opened the box and held it between the two of you, digging your fork in for the first bite before passing it to Steve. “Here.” You pressed the fork further closer, but he stopped you.
“That’s your cake though. I bought it for you.” He pushed your hand away, content with just watching you eat.
“Steve…” You took the first bite, the filling rich with just a light taste of caramel. You cut another piece off before driving your fork into his mouth. He caught your hand before it could reach his lips though. “Steve, you know I feel bad when I’m the only one eating. Just try some.”
“I will, I will,” he teased while pushing your hand further from him.
Of course you couldn’t beat his super-soldier strength, actually falling into his ploy that you could actually outmatch him, your hand slightly pushing closer to him.
You were too caught up trying to move your fork closer to him when Steve suddenly invaded your vision, lips devouring you. You opened your mouth instantly, letting your tongue roam against his as you sighed into him.
The fork would have fallen from your fingers if he hadn’t had his grip around them. You whined when he pulled away from you too soon, his smirk just teasing you even more.
“See?” He licked his lips. “Delicious.”
You pouted your lips and scrunched your nose. One pull and Steve let go of your hand, and you didn’t hesitate to shove the piece of cake into your mouth, chewing it a few times before swallowing it quickly.
“Well if you want it from my lips there.” You listened to Steve laugh at your frustrations. “Can you just kiss me again?”
He obliged, happy to listen to you moan as you melted underneath him.
The two of you spent some time in the parking lot outside of the bakery enjoying the dessert. Steve had finally relented and accepted your bites from the fork. Both of your nerves had calmed, you and him relishing in the pure, seemingly unending, moment.
Steve had continued to glimpse at the box in your lap. By the time the cake was finished, the gold and black twine was tied to your finger.