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“Baby, it’ll get cold when the sun goes down, are you sure you don’t want to take a jacket?” Steve asked for what felt like the hundredth time. You were already running late to Sam’s family Christmas Eve dinner, needing to cook additional roast veggies after you burned the first batch.
“I’ll be fine Stevie, you don’t always have to worry about me, you know?” You commented as you ushered him out the door, knowing the scolding look you would receive from Sam and Bucky if they missed out on a hot dinner because Sarah refused to start eating without you.
How cold could it really get in Louisiana anyway?
“You don’t know me as well as I thought if you think I’m never not worrying about you.” Steve commented, giving you a kiss on the cheek before opening the passenger side door of the car for you.
The dinner Sarah put together was spectacular - you felt your contribution of a dish of roast vegetables was completely inadequate, even though she assured you they were delicious and would have disapproved of you bringing anything more.
After eating, Sam took his nephews outside to throw around the football, to burn off the extra calories they’d eat over the next week, the boys pleading with Steve to join their team so they wouldn’t have to face off against Sam and Bucky alone.
You and Sarah watched as they played under the floodlights of the dock, hot chocolates in hand. You teased her about when she and Bucky were finally going to make things official, remarking about how much he adored her kids. In return, she teased you about when Steve was going to pop the question.
A peaceful feeling washed over you as you watched Steve play with his friends and the young boys, hoping there would be many more Christmas Eve’s just like this one. The thought that perhaps this time next year you would be more than just Steve’s girlfriend spread warmth in your chest.
But this was contrasted by the icy wind sweeping off the water which chilled your bones. The heat radiating from your mug was nowhere near supplying enough warmth to prevent a shiver running down your back.
You could simply go back inside, you thought, but everyone else was out, having a ball. You didn’t want to be the one to ruin the Christmas Eve spirit.
As Sarah got up to refill her mug of hot chocolate, Steve sat down beside you. You could tell from his demeanour he noticed you shivering and the goosebumps on your arms, but you were determined not to look at the ‘I told you so’expression you knew was currently consuming his eyes.
“Here, take my sweater.” He offered graciously after a moment of silence, already pulling it over his head before you had a chance to refuse.
“No, ‘cause then you’ll be cold.” Your hands tightened around your mug, trying to extract every last ounce of warmth you could.
“So you admit you’re cold?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.
“I never said that.” You quipped, but you knew it would be in vain - Steve recognised you were uncomfortable and he would never sit idly by when there was something he could do to rectify it.
“Have I ever told you you’re too stubborn for your own good?” He laughed, taking the mug from your hands and forcing your head and arms through the designated holes in the sweater. You put up no defence to his actions, even though you didn’t want to admit he had been right, the warmth of the clothing which had only moments ago been resting against his toasty skin was too tempting to refuse.
“Maybe once or twice.” You chuckled, he told you at least once a week. The sweater was awfully large on you and smelled like a mixture of the cologne you bought him for his birthday and that quality that was so distinctly Steve. He folded up the long sleeves for you so you could resume drinking your hot chocolate.
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t want you any other way.” He said affectionately, placing a gentle kiss to your hairline.