The summer air was warm, the smell of fresh grass lingering as you spread an old blanket out in the garden. Steve sat patiently on a chair you'd dragged out from the kitchen, a towel draped around his broad shoulders. Sunlight caught the gold in his hair as he leaned back slightly, blue eyes watching you with that small, easy smile he reserved just for you.

"You know," he said, tone teasing, "back in the forties, a haircut cost less than a cup of coffee. Now it's a fortune. Seems silly to waste money when I've got you."

You snorted, running your fingers through his hair to section it. "Flattery won't save you if l accidentally give you a bald spot, Rogers."

Steve chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I trust you. Besides what's the worst that could happen? I wear a helmet most of the time anyway."

You gave him a playful tug on a lock of hair. "The worst that could happen is I make Captain America look ridiculous. That's a lot of pressure, you know."

His grin softened into something more earnest as he tilted his head back slightly to look at you. "You could shave me completely bald, and I'd still be proud to stand next to you."

Your chest warmed at that, and you had to focus on the scissors so he wouldn't see how flustered you were.

He sat so still, so trusting, letting you fuss over him while the summer breeze ruffled the towel draped over his shoulders. Every now and then, his eyes closed like he was just... enjoying the moment.

"You're actually enjoying this," you murmured, snipping carefully at the edges.

"I am," he admitted without hesitation. "Reminds me of home. Simple things. Quiet afternoons. You taking care of me..." He trailed off, then added with a crooked grin. "Though I didn't think I'd ever have a sweetheart pretty enough to make me look forward to a haircut."