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"Steven, what do you think you're doing?" you demanded, hands crossed over your chest while you hip rested against the door frame of your closet.
Your boyfriend of nearly three years glanced over his shoulder. His hands stilled on the hoodies hanging in front of him. He had the nerve to give you a knowing looking before returning to what he'd been doing. This time though, he picked up his pace as he sifted through the large collection of hoodies you've amassed.
"I'm looking for my favorite shirt. I know you have it, sweetheart."
You scoffed at the mild accusation in his tone. Sure, you'd been known to 'borrow' some of his clothes from time to time, but you always returned them.
Steve had the nerve to mimic your scoff. "I saw it in your pile when we were doing laundry yesterday. Don't think I don't know you."
"What makes you think I still have it?" you asked, not about to let him win this match so easily. "How do you know it's not hanging up in your closet? You know the door on the other side of our garden tub? The last I checked you have a greater collection of clothes than I do. What makes you so sure I have it?"
"Because, sweetheart," he spared you another exasperated though loving glance, "I already checked my closet, and it's not there. While I do agree I have more clothes than you, I also know what I have and my shirt isn't among what's mine. Your closet is the next logical conclusion."
Realizing he had you there, you stubbornly clung to the idea that you didn't have his shirt. Your gaze swept over the walk-in that you'd claimed the day you two moved in. You were determined to prove him wrong and send him back to his own closet. Not one hanger or shelf was missed in your scrutiny, so certain you were in your knowledge.
It was only when your gaze landed on an out-of-place navy shirt that in fact looked familiar did you shift your weight. Studying it further, you could just make out the edges of the even more familiar shape and color of his shield emblazoned across the front.
Creeping forward, you kept an eye on Steve and his attention on the far wall of your closet.
"I'm telling you, my love, it's not in here."
And it wouldn't be in the next thirty seconds if you had your way.
Steve hummed, clearly still skeptical of your assertion.
It was just as well. As long as he kept his attention where it was, you could do this. You could be stealthy when you wanted to be, and right then, you really wanted to be.
You dared a glance in his direction when you neared the spot where his shirt hung. Your hands stretched the short distance towards it and even gripped the shirt. With his attention still diverted, you tugged gently at the shirt, pleased when it gave and dropped off the hanger.
Knowing you wouldn't have long, you turned to dash out of your closet.
You made it two steps and only two steps.
Strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back into a solid and warm chest.
"What's that, sweetheart?"
"What's what?" you asked, deciding to play dumb even though you've been caught.
Steve's soft chuckle wasn't lost on you as it reverberated through you. "That shirt in your hands. It looks awfully familiar, ya know?"
"I don't know," you said, shrugging even as you held up the shirt to inspect it. "Looks like any other shirt you'd give out to your fans. Certainly doesn't look like anything that special."
"Oh, it's plenty special, sweetheart," Steve murmured close to your ear. His breath tickled across the exposed skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing as he continued, "I got that shirt from someone very special to me. It's my favorite because they gave it to me."
"You must really care about them if you notice when this shirt isn't among your others."
The softest of kisses pressed against the space where your shoulder and neck met.
"They are the most precious part of my life."
He said the words so softly but so assuredly that your heart threatened to pound out of your chest. Your belly swooped while happy tears rushed to your eyes. Darn him for doing this to you every time.
Swallowing past the lump forming, you twisted so your eyes could meet. You managed a decent though mocked glare in his direction while you pushed the shirt into his hand still holding you close.
"You never play fair," you accused him though your voice lacked any real conviction.
Steve, without an ounce of remorse for eliciting such an emotional response from you, simply leaned in and pressed another sweet kiss to your lips. His nose rubbed against yours when he pulled away to say, "I play for keeps, sweetheart, and I mean to keep you as long as you'll let me."
"Even if I steal your clothes from time to time?"
"Especially because you steal my clothes," he countered, pressing another kiss to your lips.
He released you then, shaking out his shirt.
When you figured he would slip it over the tank he was wearing, he surprised you by raising the shirt and tugging it over your head and down your body. While you hurriedly pushed your arms through the sleeves, you caught the speculative gleam in his expression.
"I thought…"
Steve shook his head. "Nah, it looks better on you, sweetheart. Plus, I know you like wearing it when you've had a long day. I just wanted to have it ready for you when you got home. Unfortunately, you got home before I could find it."
This time, you rose up on tiptoes and wrapped yourself around him. Your lips founds his and didn't let him go until you both needed to pull back for some air.
"Do you know how much I love you?" you asked between breathy inhales.
Steve grinned. "Almost as much as I love you, sweetheart."