Prank Wars
Request: The reader and Chris Evans has an on going prank war.
Pairing: Chris Evans x reader
Warnings: Tons of cuteness!!
Looking at the time you anxiously await your husbands arrival home. He has been majorly stressed with work the last few weeks since they’ve been wrapping up their latest movie. Sadly, this is also the last movie for him with his character. You’re not an actor like him, but you understand that it feels like he’s losing a part of who he is. Today happens is his last day.
“Honey!” You hear Chris shout from the entry way. “Honey, you home?”
“In the kitchen!” You shout. “Making dinner!”
Your husband rounds the corner into the kitchen and welcomes you with a warm smile. He wanders around the island and wraps his arms around your waist. Placing a kiss on your shoulder you lean into his touch as you try to stay focused on making dinner.
“Pizza?” He questions and you hum in assurance.
“How about you go shower,” you turn in his hold to face him. “Then we can eat when you get out.”
Chris leans in, his lips lightly brushing yours. Your cheeks immediately flush against your will and the butterflies start a frenzy in your stomach. Deepening the kiss you wrap your arms around his neck. Somehow this man has managed to have the same effect on you all these years later. Chris truly is your match, and that’s why you are having second thoughts about what is going to happen next.
Pulling out of the kiss, Chris leans his forehead against yours. Telling you he will be back in five, you nod. Watching him race up the stairs toward your shared bedroom and bath you feel a smile creep across your lips. You’re dying to see what his reaction will be.
Minutes later you hear him.
“(Y/N)!!” You hear Chris shout. “You’re dead!”
Chris’ POV
As the warm water washes down his body, he feels the day melt away. Today was hard on everyone, especially him. He is no longer Captain America. Spending so many years with this character makes it unbearable to imagine letting it go. Though on the bright side he has more time to spend with his wife, (Y/N), and find less permanent roles.
You two met at a comic con. He was at a booth for meet and greets for fans and had a panic attack. Despite being a famous actor, he has major anxiety problems. To get away from prying eyes he wondered down an empty hall, well supposedly empty hall.
While he was crouched against a wall, (Y/N) was leaving the restroom. Seeing him freak out she left behind all fangirl thoughts about meeting one of her favorite actors. Instead she brought herself down to his level and calmed him down. After he came back he asked her to coffee and (Y/N) eagerly accepted.
Reaching for his shampoo, he squirts the appropriate amount on his palm. His mind still absent in the memory, he does not notice the slight difference in what he was putting in his hair. Scrubbing his scalp he washes his hair and rinses quickly and then does the same with his conditioner.
Stepping out, he grabs a towel and dries off his hair. Moving to the rest of him, he stops as he notices a mess of color on his normally white towel. Running his fingers through his hair, he looks at his hand and notices a slightly pink scheme staining his skin. Wiping off the mirror his eyes widen in horror.
“(Y/N)!!” He shouts. “You’re dead!”
Your POV
Chris races down the stairs in a white shirt and red boxers. Laughter erupts from your chest at the sight of your husband’s new hairdo. A few days ago he shrunk your pajamas, turning your once modest sleepwear into a crop top and booty shorts. This is your revenge.
“Now honey,” you stifle your laugh. “I don’t think wearing a white shirt is a good idea with new dye.”
“I’m going to get you.” Chris deviously smiles at you.
Dashing toward you, the both of you run around the island a couple of times. Getting nowhere, Chris leaps over the barrier scaring you into the living room. Skidding across the hardwood you loose your balanced and fall against the floor.
“Ow Chris!”
He slides in shortly after and assesses the scene. Immediately forgetting what you two were originally doing, Chris gathers you in his arms. Laying you down on the couch he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You tell him something happened to your ankle and Chris retreats to the kitchen to retrieve an icepack.
“Here you go,” Chris props up your leg and rests the pack against your swollen skin.
The oven beeps indicating that the pizzas are done cooking. Chris once again wanders back into the kitchen to get dinner and returns with two plates and bottles of water. Leaning forward, Chris takes the spot beside you and you lean against his frame as he hands you your plate.
Grabbing the remote you try to turn on the television. Pressing on the power button the screen refuses to respond. Tapping the remote against your palm you attempt to repeat your efforts. Tonight The Bachelor is on, a show that you have loved for years but Chris cannot stand it. Though despite his efforts to miss it, you always make him sit down and watch it with you.
“What the-“ you turn the device around in your hand until you notice black tape placed around the sensor. “Chris!”
“Hey you died my hair bright pink!” He peels back the tape. “You should be glad this is all you get at the moment.”
Leaning your head back you pucker your lips asking for a kiss. Chris obliges as his lips meet yours in a quick peck. As he pulls away your bottom lip sticks out in protest at his short display of affection. Chuckling he places a soft kiss against your forehead.
Somewhat content, you focus your energy on turning on the tv. Once again pressing the power button nothing happens. The screen does not turn on, however your husband all the sudden can’t stop laughing. Turning your gaze to him once again you give a him a quizzical brow which only causes him to laugh harder. Looking at the remote you open the back to find no batteries.
Elbowing your hysterical husband in his side you fight the urge to laugh with him. Throwing the remote to the center of the room, Chris gets up to retrieve it. Bending over the side you pull a nerf gun from under the couch, hidden for special occasions as these. Pointing it at Chris he freezes and puts his hands up by his head.
“You took away The Bachelor.” You tried to say with as much seriousness as possible.
“You gave me pink hair.” He reasons before dive rolling to the side.
Reaching the ottoman, he lifts the removable top and grabs for his own nerf gun. Crouched behind the ottoman Chris aims the barrel of his gun toward you. The both of you smile at the idea of you both being prepared this sort of encounter.
“Truce?” You offer realizing you’re in no condition to effectively fight. After some contemplation Chris nods.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Chris once again bends back down to wrap you in his arms.
Leaning into him, you rest your head against his chest and close your eyes. Not noticing how exhausted you were you feel yourself fight the sleep looming over you. Halfway up the stairs you manage to open your eyes and gain your husband’s attention.
“Just so you know,” you whisper. “I think pink is a good look on you.”
