A bit of shy/nervous Steve

You and Steve liked to have picnics a lot. It was kind of the thing you did together. He trained with Sam, and he was always hanging around Bucky, but the two of you had picnics. He would sketch the birds and plants he saw, and the occasional doodle of a bug. Sometimes he drew you—he never showed you those, you only knew because you'd occasionally glance up from the book you were reading to see the outline of yourself hunched over your book.

You were the one who found the place—it was your secret before he had to come get you for some dumb lecture that you don't remember the point of. But he never told anyone else, and asked if he could join you occasionally, so you didn't bother changing the location.

He asked you to meet him here yesterday—it wasn't too weird, but something about it was off.

Still, you sat patiently in the grass, waiting for him to show up.

"Oh. You're here."

You turn back to see Steve behind you, holding the basket in one arm and a blanket in the other.

"I slept here last night."

His eyes widened.

"It was a joke." You chuckled.

You saw him relax a little. "Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night."

You nodded, understanding, before getting up and helping him set up everything.

The two of you did your routine of talking a bit while eating, before you got the book he knew you were reading from the basket, and he grabbed his sketchbook.

You started reading, but after a while, you realized you hadn't been hearing the scritch of Steve's pencil. You glanced up, and saw him staring at you. Your eyes met, and he looked down quickly at his empty page.

You felt yourself blush a bit at being watched by him.

"Is everything alright?"

Steve drew in a deep breath, then exhaled.

"Y/n, can I tell you something?"

"Of course. You're my best friend." You said, closing the book. Your heart began to race a bit when you realized he was probably going to say.

He nodded, and straightened his back, gaining a bit more of the confidence the world knew and loved him for.

"I like men."

"That's fine. I do too."

He looked up at you, his eyes widened. "You do?"

You couldn't help laughing a bit. "I don't hide it."

"Oh, I guess I never really paid attention to that." He said, smiling softly at you.

You raised an eyebrow. "Right..."

"I didn't know."

"Peter knows, and I didn't even tell him." You pointed out, partially teasing.

"Yeah, but I—there were different codes for things in the 40s." He insisted, still slightly blushing.

"Mmk, so is there anything you want me to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want me to help you tell anyone? Want me to help you find somebody?"

Something in his expression shifted, though it was hard for you to tell what.

"Actually, there was something I've been wanting to do." He said. You could've sworn his eyes darted to your lips, though it was difficult to tell if you were just making things up in your head.

You tilted your head to the side a bit, waiting for him to go on. He smiled at this action.

"What?" You asked.

He leaned forward, and kissed your forehead quickly.

You smiled. "Did you mean to kiss me there?"

"Umm—"

You cut him off with a kiss. he was surprised at first, but eventually he leaned into it, kissing you back sweetly.

He smiled when you both pulled back.

"I was hoping you would do that." He said.

You nodded. "Does that mean you'll go on a date with me?"

"Saturday?"

"Sure."

"And could we not tell anyone just yet? I want to take things slow."

Your face softened as you looked at Steve, and took his hand. "Of course that's okay. I don't really want Tony bothering us about it just yet either. He's probably try to find our picnic place."

Steve chuckled. "He would."