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Being married to Steve Rogers is great, it really is. But, once in a while, he’ll say one sentence that only means one thing.
“Babe, I was thinking-”
You sigh, looking up from your book. “We’re not having another kid unless you carry it.”
Steve has the audacity to look offended. You have to suppress a smile. He’s so cute with his eyebrows raised and pouty lips, and especially while he’s holding little Margot in a front carrier. Her little fists pull on the collar of Steve’s shirt while she babbles, probably asking her dad why he stopped bouncing her and, most importantly, how dare he . “That’s not what I was- sorry, princess, there we go. Better, now? ” he checks with her, then starts again, “That’s not what I wanted to ask.”
You hum, grinning. It’s good that he wasn’t, because the sight of you big, beefy husband cooing to your youngest child would probably tempt you to say yes.
There’s something about a man that’s good with kids that just gets you going, and he’s the best partner, too. Right now, he’s making dinner for you and the rest of the kids, basically forcing you to take a break, sit down and enjoy your book without distractions. This side of him used to be annoying back when you first got together, but, after five kids, it’s very much appreciated. Actually, it’s probably the reason why you have so many kids with him.
“Go on, then.”
“Me and the kids were at the park the other day, when you had your nail appointment, and we saw the cutest puppy-”
“ Steve. ” you sigh, putting your book down.
“The kids loved him, sugar,” he pouts, “And a dog is a great way to teach kids about responsibilities-”
“Which is exactly why we can’t get one,” you interrupt him, “We’re already so busy, this house is like an asylum and I can’t take care of a dog once they get bored of it.”
“But they wouldn’t! Our kids are great, thanks to their momma-”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” you smile, rolling your eyes.
“And, in the impossibly rare possibility that they do, I’m gonna take care of it.”
“Steve, just say you want the dog.”
He blushes a little, turning around to stir the sauce, then turns back with the most pitiful kicked puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “I always wanted a dog when I was a kid, but we lived in a one bedroom apartment, so I never got one. We have a big backyard now! I just want the kids to have what I wanted at their age.”
Ugh, this man will ruin your life. How can you say no to that face?
“ If I were to say yes,” you start, and he’s already grinning like an idiot, “There would be conditions.”
“Name it.” he nods like… well, an excited puppy.
“You have to make sure the dog is okay to have around kids, for one. He has to be potty trained before you bring him in, Lord knows I’ve seen enough poop with five kids, and,” you pause, emphasizing the last part, “The kids need to get tested for allergies. Especially Nico, since he has asthma.”
“Done, done and done.” he bounces, and Margot squeals in excitement, “Hear that, Maggiepants? We’re getting a puppy!”
Despite yourself, you huff out a laugh, looking back at your book. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Steve offering Margot a spoon.
“Steven, for the love of God, don’t feed the baby spicy sauce!”
The house is peaceful and quiet, which can only mean one thing.
Trouble .
“Guys?” you call out, pausing the movie you’re watching, “Is everything okay?”
No response, not even a guilty sounding “Yes, mom” .
You get up, ready to investigate.
All the way down from the attic to the living room, everything is quiet, so you go into the kitchen, heading for the back door. It’s then that you hear it. A bark.
You quietly open the door, crossing your arms and leaning on the doorway while staring at your kids and husband trying to shush a confused, yet admittedly adorable, puppy.
It’s clearly a mutt, medium sized and covered in golden brown fur, a white patch around its face, where its tongue is hanging out while it’s panting and wagging its tail in excitement.
“We gotta be quiet, okay? Momma can’t hear him yet.” Steve scolds the kids, who are all guiltily taking their hands off the confused pup.
“What can’t I hear?” you ask.
Steve and the kids freeze for a second, then they turn around slowly. All of them are sporting the classic Guilty Rogers’ Smile . Even one year old Margot, who’s in her walker and can’t tell what’s going on, has the same exact look on her face, even with only four teeth.
“Surprise?” Steve tries, while the dog nuzzles his leg.
You stare at him for a second longer before you speak up. “Did you follow my conditions?”
“Yes ma’am.” he stands up straight like a soldier, “Kid friendly, potty trained and no one’s allergic.”
“We found him at the shelter!” little Theo exclaims, bouncing on his heels, “He knocked me over!”
You turn to Steve, one eyebrow raised sharply.
“He hugged you, Theo.” Steve corrects him, “I promise he’s friendly.”
You sigh, but you have to admit you’re the slightest bit amused. The kids seem to like him, Steve clearly likes him even more, and, you’ve got to say, the puppy is kind of adorable, too.
“His name’s Caramel.” Charlotte adds, shyly, “Can we keep him, momma?”
“ Please ,” Sarah adds, elongating the world, “I can teach him to play Ultimate Frisbee so you don’t have to play with me!”
You already know you’re about to cave, but you notice that Nicholas hasn’t spoken up yet. “What about you, Nico? Do you like him?”
Nico looks up at you through the thick lenses of his glasses and nods shyly.
Damnit.
“Bring Caramel in.” you sigh, “And if he poops anywhere, you’re cleaning it.”
The kids flung themselves at you, Caramel following them and liking at your hands while the little ones hug you. You almost fall over, but Steve is there in a second to keep you up by your shoulders.
The chorus of “Thank you, Mommy” and “We love you, Mommy ” quickly ends as they run into the house, ready to wreak havoc on your living room.
You roll your eyes and bend down to pick up Maggie, who’s still babbling confusedly. When you turn around, Steve puts his hands on your hips and brings you closer.
You give in, dropping a sweet kiss on his lips while running your free hand through his beard. When you retreat, you smile against his lips and whisper sweetly, “You’re doing all the housework for a week.”
You peck him only last time and head into the house to put Maggie down for her nap, while Steve chuckles behind you.
Two weeks later, you’re lounging in bed, enjoying a moment of peace while Steve handles the bedtime routine.
A romcom is playing on the TV screen, and the main characters are about to kiss when Steve walks him.
“Hey, sugar.” he whispers, crawling under the sheets. “I missed you.”
He nuzzles your neck, hugging you closer to him, and you indulge him by running your hands through his salt and pepper hair just the way he likes. He moans quietly into your shoulder before pressing hot, open mouthed kisses over your exposed skin. His hands wander, and you sigh, pausing the movie. “Missed you too, daddy.”
He growls playfully, biting your neck and making you giggle. You’re about to turn your head to kiss him when the sound of paws hitting the floor and heavy pants reaches your ears, and, in the bat of an eye, a warm weight settles on your stomach.
“Aw, but I missed you more.” you coo at Caramel, scratching the place behind his ear that he likes.
Steve groans, rolling over on his back. “As if we didn’t have enough cockblocks in this house already.”
“Hey, you wanted him.” you shrug, “And he’s my favorite boy, now, isn’t he? Aren’t you my favorite boy?”
Steve stares at you fondly for a moment before shaking his head, resigned. He grabs the remote and presses play, putting one arm around your shoulder and petting Caramel with his free hand.
You settle in closer, and he pecks your temple.
Life is good.