Work Text:
Stretching your arms above your head, you felt your sore muscles ache and twinge as you rolled over in bed expecting to find Chris next to you. Your arms only flopped over an empty cold half of the bed. You pouted as you sat up and looked around. The bathroom light was off so he wasn’t there. You’d probably snored last night and he’s probably asleep on the couch. You smiled to yourself as you saw the contents of your outfits last night strewn all over the room.
It was when you reached over to grab your phone on the nightstand when your head throbbed, reminding you that you’d had a few too many last night. Wincing as you righted yourself up straight again, you decided to forego the phone until AFTER hangover coffee.
You slid your legs off the bed and gingerly rested your weight on your feet as you tested your balance. Your steps were timid as you walked to the bathroom and flicked on the light with the lower wattage. The girl with the lion’s mane staring back at you from the mirror looked at you incredulously. You looked absolutely… well… ‘fucked out’ for lack of better wording. Your hair was all over the place. The oversized (Chris’) sweatshirt that you wore hung more to the left, exposing your collar bone and most of your shoulder. Your bare thighs had faint bruises on them from his strong hands gripping you, peppering your skin until they disappeared under your cotton panties.
“Harder Chris, HARDER.” You’d said. You smiled at your reflection at the memory. You flicked off the light and shuffled into the kitchen.
You went STRAIGHT to the Keurig, popped your favorite brew in, your favorite mug (of course the Captain America one) underneath the spout and you hit ‘brew’. As you closed your eyes, still heavy with sleep, you turned around to rest your weight against the counter.
Chris had been sitting at the table at the far end of the kitchen catching up on some emails all morning while you slept. He knew you liked to sleep in on Saturdays, so he didn’t wake you when he got out of bed. When he saw you emerge from the bedroom, he was about to say a good morning, but was quite frankly mesmerized watching you that he decided to stay quiet. You had no Idea he was there.
Your eyes still closed, you brought your hand up to scratch at your belly, the sweatshirt rising and falling with your wrist. A smile, half lustful and half fondness, but all adoration spread across his lips as his eyes took in your subtly graceful form. God you looked so perfect like this. Morning after sex hair on full display. Your plump lips curving exquisitely as you yawned. His sweatshirt practically falling off you. The sleeves on it long enough that they bunched at your wrists.
You heard the last bit of coffee drain into your cup and turned. With muscle memory and only half open eyes, you reached to your left and grabbed the creamer out of the fridge, bending at the waist to reach it where it’d been pushed towards the back. Then you had to stand on your tiptoes as you lifted your right hand up to fish the sugar out of the cabinet above you. You grabbed a spoon out of the drawer at your waist, closed the drawer with a shove of your waist, stirred the ingredients together to your liking and dropped the spoon in the sink. You lifted the gloriously warm mug slowly to your lips and took the first heavenly sip, which everyone knows is the best.
“Not gonna make me some?” Chris’ voice was normal volume, but cut through the sleep stillness of your mind like an air horn.
Your smile you’d had while taking the first sip had vanished as you screamed and jumped, spilling some coffee down the front of your sweatshirt before it landed on your bare toes.
“JESUS, Chris!” you spun around with a hand over your racing heart, your wide eyes closing now that you knew you weren’t about to be killed.
He watched with an embarrassed smile and walked toward you as you took a few calming breaths.
“Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to scare you THAT bad.” His hands came up to run up and down each of your shoulders. Your eyes slowly opened to glare up at him.
“You made me spill my coffee everywhere… why didn’t you say anything when I walked in?” you sat the coffee mug down on the counter and Chris grabbed a dish towel from the hook next to the sink.
“I was too captivated by watching you.” He smiled lovingly, despite the glare you held, as he wiped the towel down your neck and over the stains on your shirt.
“Oh whatever… don’t try to suck up to me now.” Your glare softened as one side of your lips curled up. You could never really stay mad at this guy. I mean especially not when he got this goofy, love struck look on his face.
“I swear!” he said with a big, beaming smile, holding up three fingers. “Scouts honor.”
You shook your head lightly and wrapped your arms around his robed waist.
“You better not be lying then. A Scout’s honor is serious business.” You teased
“Captain America never lies.” He reminded, with faux sternness.
“Yeah, well I’m not dealing with the Captain right now.” You rolled your eyes at his fake character bleed.
“That’s not what you said last night.” His cooed. His eyebrow curved upwards as he grinned at you and one of his hands reached down to lightly swat your ass.
You sucked in a breath as you lifted on your toes a little. Your ass was still sore from that very thing last night and judging by the look on his face, he knew it would be.
You put your palm to his bare chest between the lapels of his plush robe and pushed. He let himself be pushed back a couple of steps.
“Alright then Captain Rogers,” you said before he could come up with a quip, “Why don’t you be a gentleman and make me some more coffee?”
You put on your best sultry look as you let the sweatshirt drop off you shoulder as you stepped passed him. You looked back to find him staring at your panty clad ass peeking out from underneath the sweatshirt.
“And then bring that coffee and your sweet ass and come find me in the bedroom.” You let your eyes deliberately and obviously lower to his ass, accentuated nicely by the sweatpants he wore. “I’ll be waiting.” you teased, as you bat your eyelashes at him once more before turning and walking to the bedroom, swaying your hips for him to watch.
He stood, mouth agape, for a few moments after you’d disappeared from view, still transfixed on the image of you sauntering to the bedroom, before snapping into action to fix your coffee.
He’s pretty sure you owned the slowest damn Keurig in the history of the world.