summary: sam finally tells you how he feels about you, but not in the way he expected to...
wc: 2,052
warning(s): some swears and sam being a drunk idiot
marvel masterlist ☼ main masterlist
a/n: ok, i genuinely love how this turned out. sam better get the recognition he deserves when tfatws drops otherwise i will RIOT (feedback/comments/reblogs are always appreciated!)
(gif credit @sonsofeorl )
You have been avoiding him all week. His charming smile and wit constantly plagued your thoughts both on and off the field. His teasing but genuine nature had your heart fluttering in your chest every time you caught his eyes. But after the almost kiss the two of you shared, you couldn’t bear seeing him again in fear of ruining the relationship the two of you had. You’ve gone through your fair share of losses in life but to lose him, your best friend and confidant, is something you know you won’t be able to handle. Losing him would be more painful than any wound you’d ever have to endure.
As you stare at yourself in the mirror, you smooth out any wrinkles in your outfit before letting out a heavy sigh. “For Wanda,” you mutter to yourself. “You’re going to this party for Wanda.” Finally feeling somewhat satisfied with your look, you take a deep breath before heading out into the loft where everyone else was waiting.
The second the elevator doors open, you frantically scan the crowd as you look for your friend in the crowd. Finally finding her at the very far end of the room sitting at the bar, you let out a sigh of relief and make a beeline straight to where she was. You make your way to her so fast that you miss the sound of Sam Wilson desperately calling your name from behind.
“Is she still ignoring you?”
A frown makes its way across Sam’s face as he watches you make your way through the crowd and straight to Wanda with that million dollar smile on your face. “Apparently…” A waiter passes by with a tray of champagne and Sam graciously takes a glass for himself.
“Well have you tried talking to her?” Steve asks, slightly worried for his two friends and their complicated relationship.
“Steve, buddy, that is the first thing I tried. I tried talking to her, texting her, hell I even resorted to emailing her! But I got nothing. No luck.” He downs his whole glass of champagne before continuing. “I knew I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve known she doesn’t feel the same way about me and now-now I have to live with the fact that I ruined the best thing I had.” Sam’s eyes scan through the sea of people, looking for another waiter with a tray of alcohol. His hope of mending your broken relationship was dwindling after every day that passed of you ignoring him. So Sam decided to use tonight to forget. Forget about what could’ve been and to forget the mess he made.
Six drinks and two hours later, Sam Wilson was absolutely wasted. Everything around him was a blur and he felt like he was floating through the party. And despite trying to bury his feelings for you under the glamour and alcohol of the party, you still seemed to be the one thing on the forefront of his mind. That night was still on the forefront of his mind.
You could only laugh as Sam pulled you with him across the vast yard of the compound with a grin on his face. “This was a stupid idea.”
“Hey, you’re the one who agreed to it!” The man retorts, turning back to look at you. Completely drenched by the rain that was pouring from the sky, Sam thought you looked ethereal.
“Sam?”
Your voice pulled him out of his stupor. Shaking away the fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach, he tightens his grip on your hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s give Stark’s security cameras a little show.” He brings you to the center of the compound’s front yard and stops before turning so he’s face to face with you.
You raise an eyebrow in amusement as Sam mockingly bows and holds out a hand to you with a smile. Meeting Sam’s gaze filled with excitement, you couldn’t help but take his hand. He pulls you close with his right hand in yours as his left arm snakes around your waist and your left hand goes to rest delicately on his shoulder. “Wait a minute. There’s no music,” you frown.
Sam chortles. “I’ve got it.” He starts to sway the two of you gently before he starts singing quite dramatically at the top of his lungs. “Woah, my love, my darling… I’ve hungered for your touch-”
You cut off his singing with a boisterous laugh. “Really? Unchained Melody?”
He nonchalantly shrugs. “You do love a good Ghost reference.”
“That I do.”
The two of you continue to sway as Sam opts to softly humming the rest of the song. His head rests next to yours, his cheek lightly brushing yours, and the close proximity has your heart practically beating right out of your chest. Your heart was beating so fast that you swore Sam could probably feel it by how close the two of you were pressed up against each other. Being out there with Sam under the natural glow of the moon and the stars above wasn’t helping your feelings towards your best friend. You chuckle to yourself at the thought. How cliche. Here you were, dancing in the rain, with your best friend who you have fallen desperately in love with. And unbeknownst to you, Sam was thinking the same.
Everything about the night felt like it came straight out of a romantic movie. Sam just wished you saw it that way as well. But he was convinced that you only saw him as your best friend. Small tremors coming from your body makes Sam stop in his swaying and he slightly pulls away from you. “You cold?”
“Just a little,” you sheepishly admit. Sam gives you a small smile and it's only then that you realize how close the two of you are. Without thinking, you find yourself leaning towards Sam.
Your eyes flutter shut and Sam finds himself stuck. He knew he should have pulled away but he just couldn’t. He was drawn to you like a magnet. Sam leans in too and he’s so close that he’s surrounded by your scent and he can feel the heat radiating from your body as his nose lightly brushes yours.
Suddenly, you’re pulling away from his touch as if he shocked you. You step away and swallow the lump in your throat. Avoiding Sam’s worried gaze, you take another step back and look down at your feet. “I should, um, I should head back inside…”
And then you turn around and walk away from him. His heart was screaming at him to run after you. To take you into his arms and kiss you the way he wanted to for years. But his brain told him he couldn’t. He couldn’t lose you and he couldn’t risk ruining what the two of you had. So he just watched you walk away. What a big mistake that was…
He’s not sure how he got there, but suddenly Sam was standing on the podium where Tony usually makes his speeches with a microphone in his hands. The crowd was silent as they stood there with questioning looks on their faces. The alcohol he drank from that night was pumping through his veins as Sam started speaking-not from his brain but rather his heart. “Y/N, my best girl,” he says, signalling you out from the crowd. “This is for you.”
At the sound of Sam’s voice, your eyes go wide. The crowd is murmuring around you and you turn to Nat and Wanda who were beside you. “What is he doing?”
Wanda only shrugs and Nat takes another sip from her cup with a smirk.
“What I want, you’ve got it might be hard to handle. But like a flame that burns the candle, the candle feeds the flame…”
Natasha almost chokes on her drink as she laughs and says “Is he singing Hall and Oates?”
Wanda, on the other hand, smiles widely. “I love this song”
“OH YEAH, well, well you, you make a-my dreams come true!” Sam continues as the crowd starts to sing and clap along. Rather than continuing the song, Sam scats and hums the rest of the song into the mic while drunkenly dancing. “Y/N! You make my dreams come true! Ooh ooh,” he finishes off his performance with a grin. Sam opens his mouth to speak again, but Steve and Bucky are quick to make their way on stage. Bucky snatches the mic and places it back on the stand while Steve drags Sam away by the arm with an amused grin.
“Alright buddy, I think it’s time to call it a night, huh?” Bucky says, playfully tapping Sam’s chest as him and Steve drag Sam back to his room.
You on the other hand were still standing in shock at Sam’s little performance. Your face was heating up at the thought of it. “Oh my god, did he just-”
“Yup,” Nat confirms with a smirk. When Natasha sees Steve and Bucky dragging Sam out of the room, she nudges you with her elbow and gestures towards the boys. “I think you should take care of that.”
“Yeah, I think I should,” you mutter under your breath. You excuse yourself from Nat and Wanda who are smiling and giving you a thumbs up. By the time you get to Sam’s room, Steve and Bucky are just stepping out.
“I assume you’re here to take care of that,” Steve tells you with a knowing smile.
You bashfully nod, directing your gaze to your shoes.
“Good luck,” is all Steve says before him and Bucky are making their way back to the party.
Taking a deep breath, you lightly knock on Sam’s bedroom door. “Sammy?” A moment of silence passes and then you hear a grumble from the other side which you take as an invitation to come in. You tentatively push open his door and see the man you’ve been dreading to see laying face down on his bed in nothing but a white t-shirt and sweats. “Sam?”
“I’m an idiot,” he says, his voice muffled by the sheets of his bed.
You sigh and take a seat on his bed. With a sympathetic smile, you reply, “No, no. You’re not an idiot, Sam. I’m the idiot for not telling you how I felt about you earlier.”
Sam groans and rolls over on his back. “I should’ve sang some Elvis instead. I know you love Elvis…” he trails off.
You let out a chuckle at that, realizing he’s still not in the best state of mind. You kick off your shoes and lay down right next to him. “Why don’t you get some rest and we can talk in the morning, ok?” He mumbles in agreement and you place a soft kiss against his forehead. “G’night, Sam.” As you get up, the feeling of Sam’s hand wrapping around your wrist stops you in your tracks.
“Stay?” he whispers ever so slightly with his eyes closed.
Grabbing his hand and readjusting yourself back onto the bed, you lay down next to him and let Sam’s breaths lull you to sleep.
You wake up the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of bacon. Sitting up, you see the door to Sam’s room open. After getting yourself ready for the day, you make your way to the kitchen where Sam sits at the counter with his eyes half open. You giggle at the sight before making yourself known. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
Sam’s gaze snaps up to yours. “Y/N. About last night…”
You just shake your head with a grin and walk over to him. You rotate his chair so that he’s facing you and wrap your arms around his neck.
At the feeling of your lips suddenly against his, Sam’s eyes widen in disbelief. When you don’t pull away, he lets his eyes fall shut and pulls you closer by your waist. No words could describe the feeling of finally letting go of all the feelings he’s been hiding for you. It felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from his chest.
You finally pull away and lean your forehead against his with a smile. “Wilson, you make my dreams come true too.”
Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton
Warnings: the boys being idiots, icicles, cursing, tickle fight, and a snowball fight
Summary: Sam is dared to lick an icicle and you have to help him out.
A/N: I wrote this for @musikat18 writing challenge (happy birthday darling, I am so sorry it’s a day late!) and my prompt was Icicle! I know in A Christmas Story, Ralphie gets his tongue stuck to a metal pole, but I changed it up a bit to fit the prompt. I hope you guys like it, cause I had fun writing it! And happy holidays to all of you lovelies
Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist
The world outside is perfect and snowy as you sit in the common room, re-reading your favorite book and enjoying a hot cup of tea as the rest of the Compound is quiet. You adjust underneath your plush, fuzzy blanket and take a moment to close your eyes and breathe a sigh of contentment at the peaceful environment around you.
Your phone pings twice on the coffee table and you resentfully open your eyes and reach for it, unlocking the device and opening the text message.
Sam: Y/N I’m in a situation
Sam: You gotta help me!
You: What do you need, Samuel? I was having a nice afternoon.
Sam: Please come outside and help me
You: But it’s so cooooold!
Sam: Sweetheart I need your assistance and I would really appreciate it if you came outside.
Sam: Pretty please with kisses on top?
You: I can read the sarcasm in those texts, you punk.
You: Give me a few minutes 🙄
Standing up you take a moment to grab your coat and a scarf and complete your ensemble with a hat and gloves, making sure all of your extremities are completely covered. You may like looking at the snow, but hypothermia doesn’t sound a lot of fun. Sam had texted that he is at the outdoor training area, so you head to the obstacle course set up beside the running track. What you see when you get there both confuses and amuses you.
There sits your boyfriend, his tongue forcibly hanging out of his mouth as it is stuck to the large icicle that had formed on a piece of training equipment and you have to bite your lip to keep a laugh from spilling out of you. Clint and Bucky are standing behind Sam, barely holding in their giggles for the time being.
“Samuel, what the hell is that?”
The man in question turns to look at you from where he is sat slouched on the snowy ground, annoyance displayed clearly on his face while a smile lifts the corner of your mouth.
“Whah’you yhink yhis is,” he asks incredulously, or at least you think so. It’s a little hard to tell.
As Sam speaks around his tongue hanging out of his mouth, the two idiots standing behind him start laughing, loud guffaws leaving their throats and Bucky is bent in half, holding his stomach. A short laugh escapes your lips and at the glare Sam sends you, you cover your mouth with a hand, looking away wearing a smirk.
You pull your phone out of your pocket, pulling up the camera app and snapping a few pictures as blackmail and cooing at your boyfriend, making funny faces as he continues to send you deathly glares. When Bucky and Clint finally calm down enough for you to hear, and Sam grows tired of your teasing, he tries for another barely-intelligible sentence.
“Cahh yuh helm me ahready?”
You tilt your head to the side as you try to hear his intended words behind the slurred language, the corner of your mouth drawing up into a slight smirk when it clicks a moment later. “Can I help you? Is that what you want?” Sam lets out a shout, and you interpret it as the universal noise of “yeah, duh!”
You lean down to place a kiss on his forehead, making Sam let out a small huff. “I’ll be right back, baby.” You then turn a harsh expression on your friends, “You morons better not aggravate him more while I’m gone. We all know that grumpy Sam is even less fun than normal Sam.” This earns you two different chuckles and one distinct huff, but you just give Sam another kiss and walk back into the compound to retrieve supplies.
Quickly, you head back into the main building and straight to the kitchen. Pulling the tea kettle out of the cabinet, you fill it with water and place it on the stove to warm, trying not to heat it too much. You waste time on your phone until you hear the telltale whistle of the kettle and take it off the burner, pouring a cup of plain water and steeping a mug of Sam’s favorite tea, making sure to add just the right amount of sugar.
Taking the mugs full of hot liquid, you walk as fast as you dare back to the small group outside, making sure not to spill any on yourself. You roll your eyes as you come upon the scene just as you left it, only now Sam is ranting unintelligibly, and when that fails to get the point across, holds two middle fingers up toward your teammates. You chuckle under your breath and come closer, carefully sitting on the ground next to him and handing over the first mug of warm liquid.
Taking a sniff of the contents, Sam looks at you with a crease between his brows. “Haah wa-er? Is’sat all yhis is?”
“Yep, it’s just hot water.” Sam gives you a doubtful expression but you gesture to the mug. “It’s what google said to do.”
“I coulda tol’ yuh yhat.”
“Sure, but you’re also the one that got an icicle stuck to your tongue, so your judgment may not be the best right now. I wanted to double check.” You raise your eyebrows, the expression on your face making it clear that you’re growing impatient.
“Yhey dared me,” Sam mutters childishly and you shake your head at his antics.
“Drink the water, Samuel, please. It’s fucking cold out here.”
Sam starts to sip the water, and even with the cold atmosphere lowering the temperature, it still seems warm enough to start melting the ice that has been sticking to his tongue for who knows how long.
Sam is slowly trickling the liquid from the mug into his mouth from one side, swishing his head from side to side to coat his tongue in the warm liquid, melted ice dripping down his chin in the process. You’re honestly surprised that the icicle hadn’t melted just from Sam’s body heat, but the frigid air must have lowered the temperature from his breath and stayed in solid form.
Bucky has his arms crossed over his chest as he watches the process, head tilted to the side. “Y/N, are you sure you want this to happen?”
Your head tilts in confusion at the comment but Clint speaks up from beside you before you can open your mouth. “Yeah, I mean..ice is a nice accessory. Plus, it goes with his face.” A self-satisfied smirk crosses the archer’s face once he says the diamond pun, only growing with the added dumb comment.
Instead of dignifying that with a response, you just play into it. “I am very sure. No matter how dumb and cute he looks like this, it would make kissing him really chilly. Besides, he’s my boyfriend and I like his face the way it is.”
“Just ‘like?’ Wow, babe, I’m honestly so hurt right now.”
As you were putting up with your friends being idiots, the icicle had been reduced to nothing and Sam’s mouth was left frost-free if a little numb. You look up in surprise to hear him speaking normally, smiling widely. You shake your head fondly and peck your boyfriend on his still slightly cold lips. “I love your face, darling, you know that.”
Sam kisses your lips again when you hand him the still hot cup of tea, wrapping an arm around your shoulder in a relaxed gesture. You sit in the peaceful silence of the still snowy atmosphere for a few minutes, Clint and Bucky having left a few minutes ago when the shenanigans ended, and fold yourself into Sam’s side, using his body heat to keep you warm on the frozen ground. He sits just enjoying your presence with his head leaned against yours, thankful that you came and helped him since the others wouldn’t, until a thought suddenly occurs.
“Hey Y/N…” he trails off.
“Yes, baby,” you question lazily, still observing your surroundings contentedly.
“You’re not going to show those pictures you took to anybody, are you?”
You think of the dozens of photos you snapped of Sam when you found him and smile. “Of course not, Sam,” he sighs in relief until you continue your sentence, “although I may have already posted them to the group chat.”
Sam closes his eyes in exasperation as a telltale ‘ping’ sounds off from your phone, and you start to giggle, the joy breaking out from your chest and he can’t help but smile, shaking his head.
“You’re adorable,” Sam says, and despite the cute words, you still, detecting a hint of something mischievous in his tone, “too bad that won’t save you from payback, sweetheart!”
And suddenly there are hands around your waist, fingers moving up and down your sides rapidly, drawing loud laughter from you. After a few minutes of the sweet torture, you tap out, laying back in the snow as Sam lets you go.
Under the ruse of calming yourself down, you roll onto your side away from him, and only turn back around when you have a perfectly formed snowball in your hands. You let it fly the short distance to him and it hits him on the side of the face, drawing a surprised noise from his perfect lips. You scoot a few feet away as Sam draws himself up, pulling snow into his palms.
“Oh, it’s on, sweetheart!”
Post-A/N: Hey you guys, I really hope you liked my little fic! I really love Sam and the gang, and you just know they would get up to some shenanigans. Please leave feedback if you liked this, I’m hoping to post some more fics soon! Thank you all for reading!
Summary: Neighbour!AU where you ask Sam for help with your “party” refreshments.
Words: 2,567
Warnings: fluff, mentions of yummy food, Sam Wilson (just look at the gif. if Sam ever looked at me like that, I don’t know about you but I’d melt on the spot)
A/N: this is my submission for Tay‘s AU Writing Challenge! Thank you Tay for organizing and letting me participate. It’s my first time in a challenge and first time writing Sam, so feedback is appreciated. Off we go! I hope you enjoy!
italics are Reader’s memories/thoughts.
(gif found on google images)
Your stomach is audibly groaning when you hastily unlock the door to your apartment. Kicking your shoes off at random, you pick up the television remote and flick to the channel guide, searching for the program title you need: Brooklyn Nine-Nine.
“Yes, yes I know you’re hungry, we’ll eat soon!” You tell your stomach when it rumbles a fearsome, but empty rumble.
As head chef, you’ve been working nonstop shifts at the restaurant lately. Last week you had returned from a conference in Europe and since then, you and your team have been furiously practicing the new tips you’d brought back; consequently, you’ve spent most nights eating with the staff once all the customers leave.
Before you could dine today, though, your co-worker had offhandedly mentioned that the season premiere of the show had aired, and the only repeat would be later tonight, meaning in forty-five minutes from now. You had rushed home to record it, not trusting Netflix to have the episode up soon if you missed it tonight. After cancelling Sense8 and The Get Down, you and Netflix aren’t on great terms and in protest you’ve chosen its rival, trusty cable, as a replacement.
Satisfied the episode was set to record, you hop over to your kitchen to see what delicious meal you’re going to devour, then frown. Your fridge has nothing but the basics: butter, carrots, water bottles, and a lone egg. Hardly a meal. Surely your freezer has a frozen something….
“Really, Past Y/N? Nothing?”
You shut it with a sigh. Time for Plan B. Your apartment is at the end of the hall; you knock on the door to your left. No answer--Sam must be out. You head back inside, and picking up your pile of takeout menus, you mentally thank him for insisting you keep them whenever he came over for a marathon.
“You never know when you’ll need one,” he always said.
“I’m a Cordon Bleu educated chef, Sam, I don’t think I’ll forget to cook for myself,” you always replied.
“Call me the day you do, and please order spring rolls.”
Oh, the irony.
Your mouth salivating at the glossy photos on the menus, you dial up the local pizza joint and order two of their largest size, asking for heaps of toppings. Once you hang up, you trace the fancy script of the Thai place not far from your apartment. You do owe Sam spring rolls…and it never hurts to have leftovers.
To kill time, you text Sam.
Apartment. Come at once if convenient.
You unload the dishwasher and send another.
If inconvenient, come anyway. -S.H.
He’s the one who introduced you to Sherlock, your previous TV obsession. Since you moved in, you two have shared more marathons than you could count; missing Brooklyn Nine-Nine would be a breach of tradition.
On my way -Watson
After vacuuming the carpet, dusting, and stripping your bedsheets, the doorbell finally rings. You literally run through your apartment in excitement, and the delivery guy, Peter, mirrors your wide smile when you throw the door open.
“I have two party sized pizzas for Y/N,” he squints at the label before his face lights up in excitement. “Oh cool, are you having a party?”
You open your mouth with every intention of responding, no, they’re all for you, thank you very much, until you think about it.
You’re still wearing the shirt with your restaurant, your well-known restaurant, logo.
While you had no issue chowing down on takeout with friends who knew of your profession, explaining the reason why you ordered two pizzas (and Thai food, but he didn’t need to know that) to a stranger would take a whole new level of extroversion and trust and a hassle you just don’t want to deal with. Luckily, your distraction comes in the form of your neighbour.
“Hey, Y/N, some of your mail got delivered to my box.“
Sam walks down the hall, shuffling the envelopes in his hands; he doesn’t notice Peter at first and only looks up, you know, because of the smell of pizza wafting through the hall.
In a split-second decision aided by the excited looks Peter had been giving you earlier, you stop Sam.
“Sam, where are you going?”
You grab his arm before he can take out the keys to his place, making sure you won’t make him drop the bottle of red wine he’s holding.
Oh god, I’m doing this. I can’t back down now.
“What do you mean, I live—”
“The party is at my apartment,” you prevent him from going any further, with a pointed look. There is no party, help me out, you urge your eyes to communicate.
Sam looks to both sides before furrowing his brow at you. “Party?”
“Yes, of course, the surprise party for Riley, remember?” You’re laying it on thick to make him catch on to the act, and the way his expression changes from confusion to amused understanding tells you he does. “Don’t be silly, did you get the address wrong?”
“Hmm...don’t think so. This apartment,” he tilts his head towards his door, totally messing with you, “looks a lot sweeter than yours.”
Peter is thoroughly confused. “Uhh, so where am I delivering to?”
“My place for our party,” you confirm, smiling sweetly up at Sam. He says his next words while meeting your gaze unblinkingly, and you feel heat creeping up your neck.
“Oh, it’s definitely a surprise party, Peter.”
You step on his foot then continue as if nothing happened. “How much does he owe you?”
“Nah, hostess, it’s your turn to pay,” Sam winces, leaning heavily on your shoulder. You’re going to pay him back of course, you’re just hoping this will show you need his help.
“They’re $30…” Peter trails off, too engrossed in your banter to question anything.
“I bought the decorations, Y/N—“
“It’s my place—“
“I’m the DJ—“
“I ordered you spring rolls,” you murmur.
Sam immediately pulls out his wallet and handed Peter the money plus a generous tip.
“I love you,” he whispers, rubbing up and down your back. The gesture is something he did regularly, however, when preceded by those three little words, it causes your heart to do a happy hop, skip and a jump.
Peter slides the two pizzas out of the warming sleeve and hands them to you, then you bounce into your apartment, the warmth of your dinner spreading to further warm your heart.
Another voice joins the mix and you hurry back.
“I have food for Y/N? Is there a Y/N here?” A dark-haired guy on the shorter side, an UberEATS bag slung over his shoulder, uses a hand to jokingly search for you. Apparently you are having a party, and it’s happening in your hallway.
“Hi, Luis, right? I’m Y/N, thanks for delivering.”
“No problem, I love delivering, it’s sublime, bro, oh my god. Like, it’s great. I get to drive my car everywhere, and meet all these super fine chicas like you,” he says, punctuating each sentence with a wink in your direction. “Super fine.”
“Thanks,” you reply awkwardly, and pay him. You pass Sam what you owe him too. Even though you might daydream about the idea of a relationship, flirting isn’t your number one strength.
“So how about it, Y/N, would you want to go out?”
“We have to go set up, sorry man.” Sam reaches to grab the bags and you notice the brown paper crunch loudly.
“Aw, okay. I understand.”
“Sam, let’s gooo inside,” you swing your arms through your open door.
Sam doesn’t. You know the episode is about to start, and this justifies your choice to start pushing him.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret: Y/N doesn’t like store-bought banners. She prefers to make them herself. They’re amazing, I wish I could show you the one she made for tonight--”
“He’s a joker, don’t mind him,” you interrupt, struggling to push Sam in your apartment with your back, him still going on about you. Even though you’re using all your strength, Sam barely moves an inch. Damn his balance.
“She leaves the balloons on the floor. I’ve told her to tape them on the walls and she said no, but what can you do? It’s wild. You get me, guys, I know you do.”
“Bro yeah, I tried to plan a surprise party for my buddy once and had to find somewhere to have it—okay, so first I was talking to my cousin Ernesto who knows how to barbeque, he’s good at ‘quing chicken, but he’s the best at doing steaks, and funny enough not very good with fish. And he doesn’t have, like, a physical barbeque. Weird how that works.”
You and Sam pause, you still leaning on him, and exchange a glance. Like you could read each other’s thoughts, he hugs an arm around your waist and you both start inching inside.
“Anyways he said he can, and he was going to invite his friends to come over too. One of them has a barbeque but then he realized it was broken and he didn’t even have gas, yo, so we wouldn’t able to have it at his place. What a mess, right? I totally get you.”
Peter is about to walk away from the long explanation when he hears the TV blasting and he cranes his neck to get a better look.
“You guys are watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine? Aw man, I’m working all night but my aunt is supposed to be recording it, I should remind her—okay, I should get going so I can be home faster! Enjoy your pizza!”
You wave and Luis takes that as his cue to leave as well. Finally, you close the door, leaning against it for a beat before migrating to sit cross-legged in front of the TV. Sam tosses you a water bottle from your fridge.
“Man, Luis talks a lot.”
“I know, damn.”
“So is this going to be a regular thing? You hosting surprise parties for our friends?” he asks, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack.
You blush and open the pizza box to hide behind the lid. “It was a split-second decision, sorry about that. “
“No, no, I don’t mind, I just need to know so I can bring streamers and my turntables.” Sam shoots you a toothy grin, flopping beside you and rewinding the episode before choosing a piece of steaming hot pizza.
“I did it because I ordered a ton of food and the kid was judging me!”
“Sure, sure,” he says, nodding, disbelief dripping from the words. “It’s your birthday next week, are we planning a party for that too?”
“We could.”
The episode starts, and you both munch the food and laugh along at the precinct’s antics. Jake and Holt are just too entertaining when they banter, and Gina is a real character. It’s the perfect way to relax, and with Sam’s contagious laughter, your cheeks and abs are burning by the end of the show.
“Y/N, I don’t know why you were worried,” Sam leans back, patting his belly satisfied. “I, for one, think it’s very impressive you can eat an entire pizza.”
“Me too. But I can’t very well tell people I work at a fancy restaurant and I eat takeout on my off time. If I want pizza, I should at least be making it myself.”
“Ooo,” he scolds, “what would your boss say?”
“You forget, Wilson, I’m the head chef. I have no boss!”
“A woman in charge, I like it,” he says, and when you meet his eyes, there’s just enough softness in his expression to indicate he’s being completely sincere.
You aren’t sure what to respond; Sam is so smooth. So, you focus on facts.
“You know my birthday.”
“I do. I pay attention to my neighbours, you know.”
You frown, wondering if you should know everyone’s birthday. “Huh. What’s Mrs. Hudson in 4D’s birthday?”
“No idea.”
“I thought you said you knew the birthdays of all your neighbours?”
“I never said all.” One corner of his mouth raises in a half smile, and you bite the inside of your cheek because that look is causing you to feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust in your living room. “Only the important ones.”
You hold his eye contact, your lips curving up, and, now that your stomach is full, you have a moment to think about these butterflies that are sharing the space.
The hole in your heart that throbs painfully whenever you have to work Fridays—aka date night—is a little harder to fill. You consider yourself married to your work but you can’t pretend an onion ring is your idea of romantic. During your usual round of the restaurant to see if everyone’s visit is pleasant, you must swim through a sea of loving gazes and affectionate touches, and sometimes it’s overwhelming. So many couples. None are half-you.
Could that change?
You’ve always been attracted to Sam. The first day you moved in he had helped you with all your boxes--such a gentlemen--and by the time your truck was empty, both of you were cracking up about the stories you each told on the trips up the stairs and you couldn’t believe your luck in getting such a great neighbour. That easy dynamic had jumped the line to kindred spirits…one question and it could jump another line.
Sam’s the one who breaks your staring contest, getting up and walking to your kitchen. He returns with two glasses and the bottle of red wine he had been carrying earlier. He hands you a glass and fills it halfway.
You thank him, and smile as you take a sip. Sam’s watching your reaction before he takes a drink of his own, and he’s rewarded with your wide eyes when you pull the glass back to study it like you can see the ingredients to show you what makes it so delicious.
“Oh my god!”
“Good? A friend recommended it.”
“It’s really good.”
His eyes crinkle as he smiles, and you’re watching him as he sets the bottle on the table. You’re about to ask if he wants to go to dinner—a proper, non-takeout dinner—when your nerves get the best of you. What if he rejects you? Will you be as close after? The thoughts make you bail, instead picking up the remote. You’re positive you’re blushing.
Sam probably noticed, I’m never nervous around him! Uggghh
“Y/N, I--”
“Mm,” you hum, thumbing through the channels for a movie. He noticed…
“I—“ He hesitates, you feel him turn to you and he starts again. “You were staring?”
Caught, the nerves return, though you feel calmer when your eyes meet Sam’s warm ones. Maybe he’ll say yes?
I won’t know until I ask…c’mon Y/N.
You have to shift on the couch so one knee is bent and the other foot is still on the floor to face him. You’re not sure how to begin, so you just say it before you get nervous again.
“Doyouwanttogooutfordinner?” you say in one breath. You’re about to repeat it, wondering if you said it too fast, when Sam answers.
“Out for dinner?”
You nod. “With me.”
His face breaks out into an ear-reaching grin and the nervous butterflies immediately dissipate.
“I’d love to. Does Friday work?”
“Friday is perfect.”
Now you’re both grinning madly, and if anyone walked in, they’d wonder about you two. He takes your forearms and pulls you in for a tight hug.
“Oh-um, what were you going to say before?”
“You beat me to the punch, Y/N. I was going to ask you the same thing.”
AHHHH
Yeah, you’re going to combust. You lean into him and you both settle in to watch the movie, until you remember.
“Does this mean we’re having another party next week?”
“Yup, just like this one. I’ll call Peter and Luis.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Captain America (Movies)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson
Additional Tags: Post-Civil War, Post-Black Widow (Movie 2021), travel!, Fun!, on the run!
Summary:
Sam and Natasha are starting their life on the run, but somehow it's still not so bad.
Talking To The Moon (Sam Wilson Mini Series) Part 3.
Series Summary: After helping Cap take down S.H.I.E.L.D Sam returns home with plans to make good on his promises to Skylar. But plans never go the way they are supposed to and with his newfound fame comes consequences of previous actions. His new life as Falcon will mean nothing if he can’t share it with the one person he wants by his side. Will he finally be able start the life he should have been living for the last sixteen years with Skylar? Or are there some consequences not even the Avengers can put right?
Warnings for part 3: angst, language, a smidge of smut that gets interrupted, faked pregnancy, a fluffy ending (I’ve made them suffer enough).
W/C part 3: 6.1k
Notes: Can be read as a stand-alone but is the sequel to “A Reason To Come Home” - link below. Set after Captain America: The Winter Soldier. For this to work Sam doesn’t go looking for Bucky at the end.
Characters part 3: Sam Wilson, OFC(s), Maria Hill, Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, other OC(s).
Beta(s): @firefly-in-darkness / @slytherkins - still all mistakes belong to me!
A/N: I’m super fucking proud of this one. I really think it's my best work so far. I dig it. I really like it. No, that’s wrong, I love it.
Master Lists: Main Master List / Series Master List
Talking To The Moon - Part 3.
Sam had been absent for forty minutes and although Skylar didn’t necessarily want to, she needed to find him to talk. But she knew if she announced she was going to look for him, Gabby would want to tag along, because god forbid he be talking to a celebrity she could be introduced to. Which she’d been adamant was the case for the last five minutes.
“Mr Rogers,” said Mason smiling brightly after Skylar discreetly asked for his assistance in slipping away. “Would you be able to give us a tour of this spectacular building?”
“That’s a great idea,” Nat agreed, offering Gabby a hand off the tall bar stool. “You’ll get to see how you’ll be living soon,” she grinned as if the idea excited her. “Skylar care to join us?”
For a trained assassin Skylar figured Nat would understand the need to be discreet but the smirk she flashed was suggestive and smug. Or perhaps it seemed that way because Skylar understood Nat knew the game Mason was playing.
“I’m gonna go find Mike,” Skylar declined the offer. “Catch up with him.”
Steve winked and it was clear he was playing the game too. Again, maybe it was his training, but he jerked his head toward the back of the room and provided the subtle information she’d need. “I think I saw him taking a tour when I came back from the bathroom. Eighty-third floor maybe. I’ll tell security to let you through.”
Skylar smiled and mouthed a ‘thank you’ before Steve followed Nat leading Mason and Gabby in the opposite direction.
Getting past security and to the eighty-third floor had been easy. Walking through the door to the balcony Sam stood on proved difficult. Thanks to Tony’s preference for glass - she suspected it was more of a vanity thing, he liked people to watch a genius at work - she had an unobstructed view of Sam with his head raised slightly, staring up at the half-moon.
She took a deep, centering breath and pushed the door open. The sound pulled Sam’s attention from the stars, and he turned with a scowl as if preparing to reprimand whoever had intruded his moment of solitude.
“Cap I told you I’m…”
The sentence died on his lips, and the scowl lasted milliseconds before it smoothed into an appreciative grin as he raked his eyes up and down her body before landing on her eyes again.
Skylar chuckled despite her cheerless mood and walked to stand beside him. “That face right there,” her index finger a hair-breadth from his nose, “is the exact same face you had when you saw me on prom night.”
He laughed and turned back to the moon, heaving a weary sigh. “Can’t imagine tonight is gonna end the same.”
She couldn’t imagine it either, but what use was it to say it out loud that the one night they’d shared together, that she had had hopes of repeating, was never going to happen because everything had changed? So she didn’t, she stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and took in the breathtaking view of New York.
The shape of the building allowed her to see the party going on two levels below them and she wondered exactly where Nat and Steve were and how long, feasibly, they could keep Gabby from going in search of Sam. Though, keeping Gabby away would be pointless if neither of them spoke. Which neither of them did for a few minutes, lost in their own heads.
Sam broke the silence. “Ever miss the days we’d talk to the moon for hours?”
“All the time.”
“Damn sure was simpler back then.”
She scoffed. That was the understatement of the century. Life made sense back then. Even though, at the time, she didn't think there was a possibility their relationship would ever be more than platonic, she accepted it. She had believed her feelings weren't reciprocated, and it was a hard pill to swallow, but she dealt with it. Having the memory of their encounter, and having Sam in her life - in any capacity - had been enough.
But now she knew different. Now she understood the feelings she had were shared, that they would have had endless possibilities if they hadn’t wasted so much time, if they both had taken the leap a long time ago.
“What I wouldn’t give for simple.” The anger bubbled like the champagne she’d been drinking and spilled over the edge of her control. She couldn’t hold her tongue any more. “Congratulations on the engagement by the way.”
“Congrats on the promotion,” Sam countered with just as much sarcasm and they both turned to glare at each other.
Her chest heaved as she tried to calm herself down, though she wanted to scream in his face that she’d partly accepted just to get out of his way. To make his life easier. But she thought better of it, the last thing they needed to do was have a full blown pissing match in the glassbox for everyone below to see should they choose to pull their heads out of their proteinous asses and look up.
“I shouldn’t have come up here,” she declared, turning on her heel but not making it a full step before Sam grabbed her arm and stopped her.
“Please just hear me out,” he pleaded, releasing her arm. “You’ve been duckin’ my calls for days. I just want to talk.”
“This isn’t the place to do this,” she said, flicking her eyes to the party below.
“Jarvis, privacy.”
“Of course, Mr. Wilson.” As the AI replied, the glass around them faded to a darker shade.
She could still see the moon and party-goers below but they looked as if they had been greyed out. She strolled to the edge to touch the glass and a ripple appeared under her finger as if she’d pressed too hard on a computer screen, but the fogged pane remained.
“No one can see us, but we can see them.”
She wasn’t sure if she thought it was a cool trick or if it worried her because now it meant it was just her and Sam. No escape from the pending confrontation.
“You have to know this isn’t what I want.”
“What?” she asked, spinning to look at him, the anger still evident in her tone. “The baby or the engagement?”
“All of it! Including fighting with you.”
Skylar sighed heavily, surrendering. “I don’t want to fight, either.”
“So let me explain.”
“I know how engagements work, Sam, I don’t need a lesson.”
“You wanna be a smart ass, or you wanna hear the plan?”
She contemplated the answer for a second but finally gave in. “Natasha’s plan?”
He nodded and explained, “Nat did some digging and we’re ninety-nine percent sure there is no baby, or if there is, it’s not mine. But we gotta play it close,” he cautioned, moving to stand next to her, “keep Gabby sweet so she doesn’t go running her mouth to the press before we can prove it. Keep the damage minimal or avoid it altogether.”
Skylar listened to the strategy Natasha had concocted. Gabby was scheduled for a doctor’s appointment in four days. Tony had been kind enough to provide Sam with a list of specialist doctors, and with the guise of Sam not wanting anything but the best for his baby. Gabby had agreed to use them, as she thought it was a sweet gesture. Sam admitted the engagement was his idea, wanting to prove - or rather fake - his loyalty to her. But they would wait a few weeks before announcing it to the world. Maria had been introduced as the Avengers PR officer, and her whole speech on putting Gabby into protective custody had been bullshit. Obviously, security measures were taken to protect family members but they were allowed to go about their lives accordingly.
“You didn’t choose the life we lead, y’know,” shrugged Sam. “Why should you have to sacrifice the life you’ve built because of my choices?”
She gave him a small tight smile. What he’d said made sense, but the life she’d built meant nothing if she didn’t have Sam in it. If having him there meant sacrificing any part of it, small or otherwise, she’d have done it in a heartbeat without question. But the one thing she couldn't bring herself to sacrifice was her unyielding desire to have him all to herself. Maybe she was selfish for not wanting to share him, that her vision of a family was traditional and didn’t involve another woman or a child with Sam’s eyes she couldn’t claim as her own.
“Are you saying I’ve been followed?”
Sam chuckled, “There’s been agents on you since you met me in the parking lot.”
The last few weeks raced through her mind. She felt that wave of anxiety when someone asks if they can talk and every bad thing she’d ever done in her life came to the forefront of her mind, though she knew she’d done nothing wrong.
He nudged her shoulder with his. “You really think I went off to help Cap and left my girl unprotected?”
My girl.
Her anxiety was replaced by heartache in a shuddered breath, and she closed her eyes to stop Sam seeing the longing she knew would be undeniable. She wanted to ask him to stop saying that. She couldn’t be his girl, at least not right now. But she feared if she asked him to that he would stop. If he suddenly became formal, well, that would wound her more than hearing those words.
“So, Gino’s,” started Skylar, finding courage in the bitterness she felt she opened her eyes and turned to gauge his reaction. “I saw the pictures on TMZ.”
His sigh was laden with regret, and he hung his head to look at his feet. “They called me to confirm my reservation, our reservation, when I was with her. She overheard it.”
“So, I guess you had no choice,” Skylar snarled, resentful and not trying to hide it. “Gotta keep her sweet right?” she rolled her eyes and shook her head. “But how sweet are you keeping her, Sam? Dinners, lavish parties, the designer dress she’s wearing.” She hated the venom in her voice, the undeniable jealousy, but couldn’t mask it.
She was pissed and had every right to be. Someone else was living her life. The material things Gabby had didn’t matter, it was the man she was sharing the material things with that caused the ire. Worse of all, she was pissed because, when it really came down to it, Sam had done nothing wrong. Skylar was vexed but had no one to be vexed at, no one to take out her anger on. She would take it out on Sam, regardless, because even though he was in part the cause, he was also the person she’d go to when she needed to vent.
She took a deep breath and silently talked herself down from being a bitch, rationalized that she didn’t want to blame Sam or fight with him. “Have you...” Skylar started but wasn’t sure how to phrase the question or whether she had the right to ask at all. “Are you sleeping with her?”
He shook his head in denial and stepped to stand in front of her. Dipping to catch her eye, he reached to take her hands that had balled into fists at her sides. “I haven’t slept with her,” he promised, and it wasn’t until she saw the sincerity in his eyes she allowed him to take her hands. “That’s her whole scheme, I think. To get me to sleep with her again to actually knock her up!”
“Urgh,” she sneered, watching him fit his hand to hers, “I don’t need or want the details.”
“Okay. No more talking,” agreed Sam with a chuckle. “Jarvis, play Wonderful Tonight by Damage.”
Jarvis didn’t respond but the slow, sweet violins of the song began to play, and Sam’s cunning grin widened, “May I have this dance?”
“You're too smooth for your own good, Wilson,” she smirked but stepped closer.
The balcony offered enough room for them to waltz, if they wished, but Sam led them in a tight square formation. Swaying back and forth, Skylar didn’t quite care it wasn’t an actual dance, she was just happy to be in his arms, listening to their song. Cheek to cheek like they had been many years ago, with her eyes closed, all the other shit faded. For those short three minutes, she’d forget, pretend it was just them.
The melodic voices of the boyband reached the second bridge, and she felt Sam shift ever so slightly, his mouth resting against her ear, and he sang along in a whisper. He placed a gentle kiss below her ear, another on her jaw, another on her cheek. She held her breath when he pulled back, knowing where he was headed. He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth and lingered longer than the previous kisses. A silent request, one she was more than willing to answer. She tilted her head toward him and captured his mouth.
The dancing stopped. The song ended, but the kiss continued. Tongues were unhurried but full of urgency, affectionate moans and hums were filled with desire, needy and desperate hands roamed the plains of the other’s body. It wasn’t until her back hit the glass that she realized they’d even been in motion, but the little breath she’d had left was knocked from her lungs.
Sam pulled away, “Shit, sorry.”
She was unsure if he were apologizing for the kiss or the hard landing, and being a little light-headed from the lack of air, she couldn’t manage a response. Sam didn’t give her the time to find one. He immediately returned to kiss her neck, allowing her the time to suck in the air she needed. His hand ran up her exposed thigh, into her dress, and gripped her hip, his other doing the same on the other side to give him the leverage to grind against her.
“You want me to stop?” he asked against her neck.
Yes - it wouldn’t do either of them any good in the long run. Still, her head tipped back to give him better access, and her hands clawed at his back to hold him against her.
No - it felt too good. It was all she’d thought about for weeks. She tugged her dress up to give her more room to lift her leg to wrap around his waist.
“Take that as a no,” he snickered as her hands roamed to begin unfastening his belt.
Sam teased his fingers over the silky fabric of her panties, and she unzipped his fly, when Jarvis’ warning interrupted them.
“Mr. Wilson, Ms. Romanoff would like you to know she is approaching.
They parted immediately, fixing themselves back to a presentable state a second before the knock on the glass door. “Put her down, Wilson,” Nat called out jokingly.
Sam smirked way too smugly when he called back, “She’s down.”
Nat pushed the door open but only popped her head through the gap. She looked just as smug and self-satisfied as Sam. “Sorry to interrupt, but your absence is becoming noticeable.”
“Okay, thanks,” said Sam, “We’re right behind you.”
Nat gave a curt nod, and her smile morphed to mischief when she turned her focus to Skylar, “Told you not to wear any panties, would’ve been so much easier.”
“That’s not what we were...” Skylar started but Sam’s boisterous laughter interrupted. “Shut up, both of you.”
Natasha laughed, reminded them to hurry it up, and disappeared again.
Sam cut off his laughter and fixed a serious stare on Skylar. “Can we meet Thursday? Like usual? Hopefully, by then, all this will be over.”
She stepped to him and kissed his cheek. “I really hope it’s that simple.” Her smile was half-hearted.
Sam squeezed her hand before he jogged away to catch up with Nat. Skylar waited a moment, not only to give them time to rejoin the party, but also to take the time to do something she hadn't done for years. She sent a silent prayer to the moon, or whoever else may have been listening, ‘Please, let it be simple.’
The star nearest the moon flickered as if acknowledging her wish.
Wednesday March 5th 2014.
Nerves and excitement made Sam jog up the path to Gabby’s door. He was excited that today could be the end of the whole fiasco, but nervous that it could potentially be the start of a lifetime of fiascos.
He was no stranger to trouble, his professional life regularly made him seek it. He could deal with chaos, but when it came to his personal life, he much preferred to be a lover and not a fighter. If today didn’t go the way he hoped, if Gabby was indeed pregnant, he’d spend the rest of his life drowning his feelings for Skylar.
Of course, he would do the right thing, try to keep his distance. He was a strong man in every sense of the word, but Skylar was like an Ocean - unexplored, hypnotic, limitless and immovable from his life. Without a doubt, he’d succumb to his feelings, no matter how hard he’d try to stay afloat. Sooner rather than later, he’d get tired of swimming away. His lungs wouldn’t be able to take it, and he’d have to breathe her in.
Sam knew he’d tell lies, painted truths to whoever he had to to keep Skylar close to him. He’d drown in the ocean of her regardless of the consequences.
He took a deep, calming breath, one of many he knew he’d be taking today, and knocked loudly on the door. It took longer than expected for her to answer, and he was ready to knock again when she finally appeared.
Sam’s fake smile faltered taking in her appearance; baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt two sizes too big, her hair askew like she’d been lying on it only moments ago, no make up. He bit down the urge to be angry. They were expected at the doctor’s appointment in an hour, she should have been ready to go. They’d never make it across town in time now.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Gabby sighed before Sam could talk. “I feel awful.”
She pouted as Sam stepped through the door. She dragged her feet as she ambled back into the living room, and Sam followed chewing on his cheek.
“Morning sickness does not just happen in the morning, let me tell you.”
Sam had to admit it was a pretty convincing scene. Her duvet bunched up on the sofa, a plastic bucket beside it, a half glass of water on the coffee table, the smell of disinfectant as if she’d tried to mask the smell of vomit.
She turned to sit on the arm of the sofa and smiled innocently, “I’m really sorry, but I don’t feel up to going to the docs.”
He nodded and gave as a genuine smile as he could muster. Her smile quickly changed to flirtatious, and she reached out to grab his jacket and pull him toward her. He allowed her, only half resisting, and she looked up at him from under her lashes.
“You know, I’ve read there’s a cure for morning sickness.” Her tongue rested on her bottom lip, and Sam remembered her doing the same thing during one of their previous encounters. At the time, he’d thought it was sexy, and he’d reached out to bite it, but now it just annoyed him further. He couldn’t find it in himself to be sympathetic. This was just another game she was playing. Another ploy to try to get him into bed.
“Let me go make some calls,” he sighed, unable to keep the disappointment from his tone, “see if we can reschedule.”
Gabby chuckled at Ross Gellar’s leather pants mishap, but Sam’s grin was more of a grimace. It was the last place he wanted to be. However, he’d called Natasha and explained the situation. This wasn’t part of the plan, what the fuck was he supposed to do now? She told him to hang tight, so he followed orders and stayed.
Why had he ever thought it would be simple? That Gabby would be proved a liar and he’d be able to go get his girl? Nothing had been easy lately, so why had he expected anything different?
He’d fought off Gabby’s advances by again telling her he thought it was super weird to sleep with a pregnant woman. (It was complete bullshit, he couldn’t think of anything sexier than seeing his partner carrying his child and helping sate her needs, whatever they may be), and eventually, she’d backed off.
According to Gabby, she hadn’t been able to keep down even a small sip of water, yet she hadn’t been sick in the hour and a half Sam had been there.
“You want me to make you some toast?” Sam asked rubbing her leg affectionately. “It’s been a while since you’ve been sick, maybe you’re past the worst of it.”
He got up before she could respond, he just needed a reason to get her feet out of his lap when she started not so subtly rubbing them against his crotch. Even if he had wanted to sleep with her, that was a sure-fire way to turn him off. Feet were a non-starter for him because...feet.
He’d just made it into the kitchen when the doorbell rang, and he prayed it wasn’t one of her family members or a friend because he really didn’t have the stomach for it today.
He fished his phone from his pocket ready to call Nat and ask why he was hanging tight, when Gabby whined his name loudly, and he could hear the childlike pout she wore.
He raced to the hallway as if concerned and skidded to a stop. He’d never been so happy to see people in white lab coats in his life. Maria had pulled Gabby to the side as men and women traipsed in and out carrying expensive looking equipment and bags.
“You’re still here, good,” Maria remarked, giving him a tight but friendly smile. “I was just explaining to Gabriella that we brought the doctors to you. The matter is not one we can put off, as we need to make appropriate arrangements. We have safety measures and protocols we need to follow.”
Sam smirked, and in his head, he was kissing Natasha’s and Maria’s feet repeatedly. Foot phobia or not, he’d kiss their feet until the end of time if they asked.
Maria turned back to the scowling woman before her. “I know this might be a little overwhelming but I need you to understand this is for your safety and the baby.”
Maria continued to explain what would happen, reiterating Gabby was in control, her needs came first. She escorted her into the living room, as if it wasn’t her home, and explained in turn how each piece of equipment worked and what it was for. Even Sam became somewhat overwhelmed, Maria explained one machine and another three had materialized. The buzz from the machines as they were fired up sounded like locusts and the faceless people in white coats murmured amongst themselves.
“Okay, okay. ENOUGH!” Gabby shouted and everyone froze.
Sam held his breath. Was this it? Was she finally going to confess to the whole thing being bullshit? Did she finally see she was in too deep and the lie couldn’t go any further?
He pushed his feet forward, stood by her with an assuring arm around her shoulders, “You okay, baby?” he asked quietly as if he wanted the moment to be private. “You feel sick again?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Maria, “This must be so overwhelming, do you need a minute?”
Gabby began to tremble under his arm, and for a split second, he felt sorry for her, until she blurted out, “I lied!”
The confession seemed to be a signal to the white coats, and they immediately began packing up the equipment. Gabby shrugged herself out from under Sam’s arm and sat on the sofa covering her face with her hands.
Maria squeezed Sam’s shoulder and smiled with a quick wink before she called out for the agents to pack it up and be on the road in ten.
Gabby burst into tears, shoulders shaking as she sobbed into her hands. Sam didn’t know why, but he sat beside her and rubbed soothing circles on her back. He should have been pissed and somewhere deep down he was, but he pitied her more than anything. She had to have some deep-seated issues to do what she had.
“I’m sorry,” she cried and turned to bury her head in his neck. “I’m sorry Sam, it’s all a lie. I was never pregnant.”
“I just need to know why.” Maybe that’s why he’d stuck around and not bolted for the door the second she told him what he wanted to hear. He wanted to know why. He had his suspicions - that she wanted fame and fortune, to make a name for herself - but he wanted to know for sure, sate his own curiosity.
She sniffed back a sob, rubbed at her snotty nose with the back of her hand, and sat up straighter to look him in the eye. “I did have a scare, after I cancelled our fourth date. I thought I was, I did a home test and it was positive. I built this fantasy in my head about us being a family. Then I saw you on the news. I went to the doctor and it turned out the home tests I’d done were a false positive. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About us. I wanted another chance. Then I saw Skylar in the bar…” she paused to wipe her nose.
Sam gritted his teeth, felt his jaw flex. He hated the way she said it, a hint of disgust as if Skylar was a problem. She didn’t have the right to speak her name in that way.
“I knew from the panic in her eyes when she saw me that you two were more than friends,” she sighed sadly. “And I knew if I didn’t give you a reason you’d never call me back so I lied. Can you forgive me?”
“I forgive you,” he told her truthfully. He wouldn’t hold a grudge, there was no need to hold onto the negativity. He pulled her into him and kissed her temple. “I hope you find someone to have a family with, but it isn’t me.”
She sobbed harder, clung to him to hold him in place. He untangled himself from her embrace to stand up and walked away with her calling his name and pleading with him to come back.
Thursday March 6th 2014.
Agreeing to meet Sam at their usual spot, regardless of what happened with Gabby, had been a mistake. Skylar had spent two days on tenterhooks. Wednesday, the day she knew Sam was taking Gabby to the doctors appointment, she spent the day jumping every time her phone went off, her heart stopped every time her office door opened. By the time she crawled into bed at midnight the little hope she held that the saga would come to an end diminished and was replaced by a chest crushing despair with the understanding that she had well and truly lost Sam forever. She’d cried herself to sleep after convincing herself that no news in fact meant bad news.
Skylar had specifically asked Sam to wait until their regular meet up, whether it be good or bad news. If it was bad news they could pretend nothing had happened between them, toast to Riley and act as if they weren’t pining for each other. That would be easier, go back to how they used to be. But if it was good news, Sam being Sam, she thought he wouldn’t have been able to hold back. She’d had vivid visions of him bursting into her office and kissing her. Showing up on her doorstep and taking her directly to bed. However, he had done as she asked which could mean only one thing. Bad news.
She woke at three Thursday morning, washed her tear stained, puffy face, and told herself she was done crying. No more tears. She had to be strong and selfless and be there for Sam. After all, becoming a father was a huge deal. She vowed to make an effort with Gabby, even try to be her friend, at least until she left for London.
The working day rushed by - meetings, conference calls, and bitching to Mason on a two hour lunch break she probably shouldn't have taken. But, sleep-deprived, heartbroken, and miserable, she forced herself out of the cab onto the sidewalk.
The queue was twenty or so people deep, and she hung her head as she passed the main door in the hope she could sneak past the doormen. She was already late, thirty-five minutes to be exact, but that was nothing new, Sam would expect it. An extra ten minutes in the queue would give her more time to get her shit together and help put off the inevitable just a little longer.
“Skylar,” Henry called out in his happier than happy tone.
She froze and cursed under her breath. Damn Henry and his friendly nature. She plastered on a happy smile and he mirrored it as he engulfed her in a tight embrace. The friendly greeting wasn’t unexpected but he whispered, “Come with me,” and she understood the hug was more about being discreet than friendly.
He led her down the alleyway between the bar and the neighbouring building, and when they were far enough away from the crowd, he explained, “Sam’s been here about an hour. We snuck him in and put him in the VIP area in the back.”
It was a nice gesture. They’d been Thursday night regulars for almost four years now, and Sam’s new Falcon status had earned the bar a ton of new customers and it’s new nickname, ‘Falcon’s Nest’. So Sam getting the perks of VIP - private area, free drinks, and table service - wouldn’t hurt the bar’s reputation or pockets.
The VIP had its own side entrance, though Skylar wasn’t quite sure why. The tables were on a raised platform to the left of the main bar and could be accessed from the main room. Security stood on either side of the staircase to stop any non-important guests from entering.
Sam was at the table furthest from the side door and far enough back that any prying eyes from the main bar would have a hard time seeing him. He was staring into the swirling amber liquid in his crystal tumbler. Her drink sat waiting across the table from him.
His face was unreadable, a flat emotionless mask, and that scared her. He always had a slight smirk, like he knew a delicious secret, or his brow crinkled with tough thoughts, but his dark brown eyes always held a spark of life. But he was expressionless, and in that veil lay heartache.
She shrugged out of her jacket as she approached and flung it on the back of the chair, apologising for being late, though for her she was practically on time. “I’m late, I know, I know.”
She dipped to kiss his cheek quickly and took her seat without meeting his eyes, though she wasn’t sure he’d even looked up from his drink.
“How many times did you think about cancelling?” he asked.
She tried but failed to sound humorous, “Oh, only a couple hundred.”
He raised his glass and met her eyes with the faintest smile she’d ever seen on him. “Riley.”
She echoed the toast, and they clinked their glasses before shooting it back. She swallowed it down, and for once she enjoyed the burn. It somehow served as a reminder of the fire inside her. The desire she felt for Sam couldn’t be doused, and any pretences of acting normal burnt to embers that she coughed out as the alcohol hit her stomach.
She chewed her bottom lip and forced herself to look him in the eye, “Should we toast your engagement?”
His smile spread wide and fast, one eyebrow pulled up slightly, “Not unless you're proposing?”
He stared at her, grinning like an idiot. She gaped back at him, and it took half a minute for it to register that the snarky remark was also an announcement.
“You gonna kiss me or keep staring like you-”
Skylar leapt from her seat and crashed into him, cutting off his jesting with a forceful kiss. The chair rocked back, but Sam kept them upright, and she settled into his lap. One arm wrapped around her waist, he pulled her into him. The other hand rested on the top of her thigh, and his fingers squeezed tighter than was necessary.
She hummed happily into his mouth. Her hands slipped from his face, and her nails dug into his shoulder blades. He tasted like whiskey. His hand squeezing her thigh was definitely going to make her burst into flames. His spicy cologne overwhelmed her, and the arm that wrapped around her waist and drew her into him made it feel like she was finally home.
She felt the hot happy tears well under her closed eyes and couldn’t stop them falling. A single tear crushed between their lips and Sam pulled back. Thumbing away another rogue tear he smiled softly, “No more of these.”
“I need a minute,” she laughed, dabbing her eyes with a napkin. Her rational thinking returned, and she gasped, looking guiltily at Sam, “Shit, London.”
“Baby girl, you forgot I have actual wings?” he chuckled, and she laughed with him but still looked concerned. “I already spoke to Mason. He told me it’s only six months out of the year. So we can split our time between London and here, and when I’m working we can talk to the moon like we used to.”
She kissed him softly but with just as much passion. Before it could become heated again, she pulled back. “Then I just have one question.” He nodded for her to continue. “Why the hell are we meetin’ here and not somewhere with less people?”
He laughed heartily, “Well, I wanted to make sure this place only had good memories for us. And unfortunately,” he rolled his eyes like it was the most inconvenient thing to have happened lately, “we have a few people who wanted to celebrate with us and who we kinda owe a thank you to.”
He pointed over her shoulder, and Skylar turned to see Steve, Nat, and Mason over on the far side of the room, talking amongst themselves and badly acting as if they hadn’t just been staring at them. She’d been so focused on Sam, she hadn’t noticed them.
She had never wanted to share Sam, her traditional family view prohibited her from being able to. But as she watched their friends, she realized that view had forever changed. Their newfound family was far from traditional, and she was more than happy to share him with them.
She smirked and quickly kissed his lips, “Could we not’ve thanked them tomorrow?”
“I promise, as soon we can politely escape,” Sam whispered in her ear, “I’m taking my girl home to finish what we started on that balcony and to make up for lost time.”
He waved to beckon the group over. Quickly kissing her lips, he reminded her of the promise he’d made what felt like a lifetime ago, “Whiskey and frisky.”
She laughed loudly when he did the eyebrow waggle she’d envisioned him doing when she had read the message. Skylar cupped his face and pulled him to her, “I love you,” she whispered against his lips.
“I love you, too.”
Their lingering kiss was interrupted by Nat’s jesting voice as she got closer. “Jeez, how many times,” she sighed dramatically. “Put her down, Wilson,” she winked.
Sam squeezed Skylar’s thigh and whispered, “Never.” A promise to never let her go now he had her, and she promised to hold him just as tightly with a firm kiss pressed against his lips.
Skylar’s hand caressed his cheek, the pad of her thumb stroked back and forth over the scar under his left eye, and when she pulled back, she got lost in his adoring gaze.
The hairs on her arms and neck stood on end as if she’d been hit by a blast of cold air. Thoughts of the future and the promise it held gave her goosebumps. But what she wanted was the ultimate promise, a vow of forever. No matter what else tomorrow held, it would hold Sam. She would hold Sam, tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. She couldn’t imagine a life without him. She didn’t want to. And perhaps, she didn’t have to.
The words bubbled up, out of her burgeoning heart, getting caught in her throat for only a moment as she took in the contentment on Sam’s face. They were soft, but that was okay because the bar seemed to fade around them, its noise a distant throb in time with her heart - quiet enough, surely, for Sam to hear her: “Marry me?”
Talking To The Moon (Sam Wilson Mini Series - Part 2)
Series Summary: After helping Cap take down S.H.I.E.L.D Sam returns home with plans to make good on his promises to Skylar. But plans never go the way they are supposed to and with his newfound fame comes consequences of previous actions. His new life as Falcon will mean nothing if he can’t share it with the one person he wants by his side. Will he finally be able start the life he should have been living for the last sixteen years with Skylar? Or are there some consequences not even the Avengers can put right?
Warnings for part 2: angst, language, unwanted/unplanned pregnancy, mutual pining.
W/C part 2: 7.1k
Notes: Can be read as a stand-alone but is the sequel to “A Reason To Come Home” - link below. Set after Captain America: The Winter Soldier. For this to work Sam doesn’t go looking for Bucky at the end.
Characters part 2: Sam Wilson, OFC, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov, Jarvis, Maria Hill, Other OC’s.
Beta(s): @tmnt-bucklover / @firefly-in-darkness / @slytherkins - though all mistakes are my own.
Master Lists: Main Master List / Series Master List
Talking To The Moon - Part 2
Saturday February 22nd 2014.
Sam jabbed the elevator button with more force than was necessary. It didn’t matter, Tony could afford to fix it if his incessant jabbing broke it. He gave the button a break and gripped the silver rail as the doors slid closed.
I’ll do my best.
The promise he’d made to Riley, years ago, pinballed around his head as the elevator soundlessly whisked him toward the floor Jarvis had told him Steve was located on.
Sam raised his gaze from his feet to look at his reflection in the mirror. The image that stared back at him pissed him off. He was a failure, and this failure had the audacity to look upset when it glared back at him. How had he managed to do this to his best friend--fuck that, best friends--to fail them both in such a spectacular way? He’d never done things by halves and this seemed to be no exception.
He should have punched the idiot gawking back at him, but instead of punching the image, he shook the bar aggressively. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck!” he roared.
“Mr. Wilson, are you okay?” Even for artificial intelligence, Jarvis sounded concerned.
Fuck off, Jarvis, Sam wanted to respond but decided against it.
Not satisfied with his lack of answer and programmed to be a pain in Sam’s ass, Jarvis asked, “Should I alert medical?”
“No!” Sam snapped. “Not unless they’ll euthanize me peacefully,” he grumbled stepping off onto the eighty-second floor.
“Not sure about the ‘peacefully’ part,” Natasha piped up from her position resting against the doorframe of the kitchen. “But I’m more than qualified to assist you,” she quipped, as Steve appeared over her shoulder. Jarvis had obviously informed them of Sam’s pending arrival and they’d been laying in wait for the elevator to arrive.
“Just fuckin’ do it,” Sam begged her.
“Sam,” Steve started, giving him a disapproving scowl, “What’s goin’ on? You were stoked about leaving here, going to see your girl. It’s barely been four hours.”
Natasha’s mouth twitched wickedly, “He works fast.”
Any other time Sam would have retaliated and thrown in a suggestive remark about his stamina, but he couldn’t find it in him, not today.
Ever the referee, Steve scolded her with a curt growl of her name.
Sam sighed, raked a hand down his face, and gave them both a pleading look, “I need your help.”
Settled at the kitchen table, Nat and Steve sat across from him with similar sympathetic expressions, but even in the informal setting, he couldn’t shake the feeling they were interrogating him, judging him for his past indiscretions.
“You sure you were careful every time?” Steve asked, sounding like a disapproving brother. “No slip ups, heat of the moment and all that, breakages?”
Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes - for the hundredth time - “I’m positive.”
“So’s she,” Nat jested under her breath.
“Nat,” Steve chided, whipping his head to look at her.
“Ah man, let her have her fun,” Sam sighed, “someone should get a laugh out of the shit show that is my life.”
She stopped stifling the laugh she’d tried to bite down and chuckled shuffling forward in her seat to rest her elbows on the table. “Come on Sam, you can’t honestly believe this woman. You go on four dates, she ditches you and then the second you're on the news she’s pregnant?”
Sam nodded in agreement, it had sounded suspect to him too. Until he’d been to see Gabby. “Well, I couldn’t exactly accuse her of faking it and the scan she showed me was pretty convincing.”
Nat shrugged, “Could be a friend’s scan. Or another guy’s kid. We know she’s not opposed to picking guys up in bars.” She reasoned, “I’m not passing judgement, I’ve had my fair share. I’m just sayin’ you weren’t the first and you probably won’t be the last. But she has more to gain if this baby is yours, if there even is a baby.”
“What’s her name?” Steve questioned, his voice changed to the distinct mission mode.
“Gabriella.”
Sam shrugged one shoulder and grimaced when Steve looked disappointed at the lack of a last name.
Nat laughed but her eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. “But you know her address, right? We’ve done more with less information, so this is what we’re gonna do.”
Thursday February 27th 2014
Sam hadn’t wanted to meet at the regular spot for their Thursday night drinks. He’d thought it was best to keep a low profile, so he’d invited Skylar to his place. He was surprised she’d agreed. He’d known her long enough to understand she preferred avoidance over confrontation and he’d prepared himself for her to ignore him or give some bullshit excuse to cancel on him at the last minute.
Since the pregnancy revelation five days before, they’d exchanged the sum total of three messages. Nothing more than a quick check in to see how the other was doing. They both claimed to be ‘fine’ and steered clear of any tough discussions, so he was shocked she’d shown up, and further stunned she had been on time with their usual order from Gino’s. Sam understood she was making an effort to keep things as normal as possible, and while he loved her for it, he hated the fake smiles and awkward small talk.
During their takeout dinner, their conversation had flowed. Skylar had been the one to bring up Gabby and he’d quickly updated her on the situation. A scheduled doctor's appointment next week that he would attend with her to check on the baby’s health and find out how soon a DNA test could be done.
Sam had hope that Nat’s plan would succeed, that he’d be able to put the whole Gabby fiasco behind him and start the life he wanted with Skylar. But he worried about giving her false hope. What if the life he wanted them to have was a pipedream? It would be cruel to push his belief on to her, build up their hope only to have it torn away, again. So he’d decided not to tell Skylar about Steve and Nat’s involvement, or the fact his doubts about the truth of the pregnancy grew the more time he spent with Gabby. Mainly because Gabby had tried, unsuccessfully and adamantly, to get him into bed.
Sam treated that information as if it were a covert mission and diverted the conversation to Skylar, the way he used to on their long distance calls, asking about her promotion. She informed him she had a meeting on Monday and she was confident the job was hers.
Their casual attitude felt normal, like old times. Sam had almost convinced himself everything was good, and he could have at least pretended it was except for the fact Skylar couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
Skylar sat as far away as she could, on the other end of the couch and perhaps it was his insecurities but she really didn’t seem like she wanted to be there. She did everything to avoid looking at him. Though her body was turned toward him, one leg tucked underneath herself and one foot flat on the floor she barely lifted her head towards him and her eyes kept flicking toward the door like she was fighting internally to not bolt out of the room.
He caught her eye and she looked away, into her lap. She’d been doing the same all night, looking at a spot on the wall behind him, the floor, picked imaginary lint from her jeans, or stared at the television that was on in the background. She looked everywhere but his face.
They toasted Riley and the clinking of their glasses seemed to signal the end of the small talk they had desperately tried to keep alive. The tinkling of glass on glass faded and the tension grew steadily.
He felt like she wasn’t there. Maybe physically she was sat within touching distance, but mentally she was somewhere else, and he hated it because he was there with her. In his mind, they weren’t so far apart. She was tucked up under his arm, inhaling the scent of her summer spiced perfume, making plans for their future. Skylar stared down at her fidgeting hands in her lap, and after a long tense moment, Sam couldn’t take it any longer.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” said Sam, trying without success to not sound as hopeless as he felt.
Her heavy sigh was mixed with a scoff, “Why not? Nothing’s changed.”
“Everything’s changed.”
“Not for me it hasn’t.”
Then Skylar met his bereft gaze, and Sam wished she hadn’t. Her brow was slightly pinched, like she had a permanent dull ache somewhere. And as much as he hated it, he understood. He’d felt the tightness in his chest since he’d returned home days ago, felt the ache that he couldn’t quite pinpoint the location of. But he knew the antidote lay in her tender kiss, the gentle caress of her hand. Damn, even a friendly hug would have helped subdue it, if only temporarily, but she’d denied him even that.
“For my entire life, I’ve wanted you, Sam. I’ve always been in lo-” She bit off the sentiment and corrected herself, “into you. Always. But I’ve had years of practice at hiding it or ignoring it, whatever. Now isn’t any different. So nothing has changed. Not for me.”
“You make it sound like I haven’t been doing the same. Hiding what I feel, pretending.”
“Don’t do this, please.”
“I want to do this,” he growled, frustrated as he dragged himself across the sofa to occupy the middle cushion and be closer to her. “I’m so fuckin’ tired of dancing around this shit, Sky!”
“You think I’m not?” she snapped, her eyes blazing with anger.
She glared at him for a moment before turning her body away from him, both feet flat on the floor and he worried for a second she would get up and leave. Instead, Skylar closed herself off, elbows resting on her knees with her face buried in her hands.
Her voice was muffled, but he heard her clearly, “It’s not gonna change anything. It’ll just make everything harder.” She sniffed back tears, and the plea in her voice was unmistakable. “So can we just not, please?”
Sam peered at her, contemplating whether to push the issue or not, though he agreed, talking about it, discussing their feelings, or rather finally admitting what they felt, wouldn’t make it any easier or less painful to be around her. He watched her shoulders rise and fall as she heaved deep breaths to stop herself from crying, and once again he felt like an absolute asshole, a failure.
“Riley knew.” Sam wasn’t sure why he blurted it out or why he wanted her to know. Maybe he wanted her to know because she’d always been the one to help him navigate his emotions, get his thoughts in order, and he needed, now more than ever, for her to tell him he wasn’t the jackass he thought he was. Needed to hear her say he hadn’t failed as a friend to Riley or to her.
He heard her sharp intake of breath but didn’t hear her release it. She slowly lowered her hands and sat up straighter to stare wide-eyed at him.
“A few days before…” Sam still found it difficult to say. Every time he said ‘he died’, the image of Riley dropping from the sky haunted him. He swallowed a thick lump that threatened to consume him. Her eyes swam behind tears, and he had to clear his throat to stop his own from doing the same. “He heard us on the phone. Told me that we had his blessing.”
“Sam,” she winced, a mixture of a warning and sympathy laced her tone.
Regardless of the concern edging Skylar’s raspy voice, he begged, “Please, let me say this.”
Her shimmering eyes bore into his, but she nodded almost undetectably and reached out to put a hand on his leg. It took all of his strength to not cover hers with his own. He knew it was probably an automatic reaction, a habit to comfort him, but he didn’t want to do anything to cause her to pull away.
“After he said it, it was all I could think about. I wanted to come home and be with you. But it was already so hard to leave you behind, and we were just friends then. I was scared if we were more, if I told you that after our night together I realized how much I really loved you and if you’d said it back... I’d never have gone back out there. To be with you, I’d’ve had to break my promise to Riley. To not be his wingman. I didn’t want to let him down or ask you to wait for me. But then he...He left us both, and I didn’t want that to be the reason we-”
He expelled a heavy-hearted breath and couldn’t stop his hand from picking up hers from his knee. And now he was the one who couldn’t meet her eyes, but she squeezed his hand as if encouraging him to continue.
“I needed it to be real, y’know. Not because we were grieving. I wanted you to want me, not need me to fill a void. But I see it now, it was real. Before Riley...and after, it’s always been real. I love you. I’m in love with you, and I have been for a long goddamn time...” Sam scrunched his eyes closed, his brow knitted tightly together. That pain in his chest became almost unbearable but he continued, “And I’m sorry it took me so fuckin’ long to figure it out.”
If he hadn’t have been holding her hand, he wouldn’t have known she was still there. She was silent, perfectly still, had stopped breathing. He cautiously opened his eyes, worried what expression would be waiting for him - unwarranted anger for expressing his feelings when she’d specifically asked him not to, mournful tears for wasted time and a life that may never be.
Skylar’s cheeks were sodden and he didn’t understand how she could cry so many tears yet be so quiet. She leaned in and pressed the lightest kiss to his lips. Her hand slipped to the back of his neck and when she pulled away, resting her forehead against his, she released a strangled sob that puffed against his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” whispered Skylar. “I’m sorry, I’m too selfish to share you. I’m sorry I was too afraid to lose you as a friend that I never told you that I love you. And I’m so sorry that I can’t start something with you to just have it taken away.” She pulled back and her eyes looked like green crystals shimmering behind tears. That was enough to convey her heartbreak but the crack in her voice and the next words she spoke were like a death blow to break through Sam’s chest straight to his own heart, “You were my first, and I thought finally I’d get what I wanted, that you’d be my last.”
Without warning she abruptly got to her feet and was out of the door before Sam could find the words to ask her to stay.
Saturday March 1st 2014
The cocoon Skylar had buried herself in on the couch was warm and snug. There, with only her head poking above the blankets, she felt safe. Shielded from the world and watching Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock fall in love on a speeding bus, she could pretend that the outside world didn’t exist. She’d rejoin reality when the anticipated pizza man delivered her meat feast special, but that would take minutes and then she could go back to wallowing.
She had ignored all of Sam’s calls for two days, and he had been smart enough not to try to communicate via messages because that was a sure fire way to get wires crossed. But when her news alert popped up, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for the phone.
The title of the notification turned her stomach: Has The Falcon Found His Tweetheart? Skylar knew she should have turned off the notifications for ‘The Falcon’ and that she shouldn’t click it. She knew the pictures would make her feel worse, yet her thumb hit it anyway.
Sam and Gabby looked good together, with each candid photo they looked more and more like a couple. Tucked up in a booth at Gino’s - the place Sam was supposed to take Skylar on their first official date that never came to fruition - leaning into one another, feeding each other, Sam kissing her cheek. She scanned the short article. The journalist wasn’t sure who the woman was, but regardless of the details, they looked happy and ‘loved up’.
“More like knocked up!” Skylar groaned, swiping out of the story and tossing the phone aside.
The ringing doorbell startled her, and she silently prayed it was the pizza man and not Sam tracking her down because she’d ignored him.
“Yeah, okay, I’m coming!” Skylar called out, annoyed at the impatient visitor who knocked for a third time in a matter of seconds.
Piercing blue eyes greeted her, and Steve gave a small smile with his greeting. “Hi.”
Her ears buzzed and her stomach lurched. There was only one reason Steve Rogers would be impatiently knocking at her door on a Saturday afternoon. Sam was… Sam had…
She couldn’t even contemplate it. She inhaled sharply, held her breath to try and swallow down the wave of sickness that washed over her. Steve’s image distorted when tears collected in her eyes, and she put a hand to her mouth in case she really did vomit.
“Oh jesus, no.” Steve quickly crossed the threshold, was quick to put a comforting hand on her shoulder and push her back to an upright position before she had a chance to put her head between her knees. “Sam’s fine! He’s fine.”
It took a moment for his words to echo through the buzz, but when they did, she slapped his hand off her shoulder and swung around to punch him in the arm. “Ow!” she yelped, immediate regret for forgetting he was a super-soldier and evidently made of marble. She glared at him, cradling her hand to her chest. “Shit! Are you made of stone?” She flicked her hand trying to shake off the pain and work the feeling back to it. “You fuckin’ jackass!”
“Hey! You punched me?” Steve defended, watching her pained jig.
Musical laughter filtered through her pained cursing, and Skylar looked up to see Nat leaning on the doorframe with an amused smirk lighting her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Steve asked, “Sam will kill me if you show up broken.”
“It’s not broken,” Skylar told him through gritted teeth and flexed her hand a couple times. It ached but didn’t hurt. “And show up broken where?”
Nat strolled further into the house and suggested, “Maybe we should start this again?”
Steve sighed and focused on a scowling Skylar. “Sam is fine. I came with Nat to formally introduce the two of you. And invite you to the party tonight.”
“Sam already invited me.”
“And you said you were coming, ” Nat reminded her, “But I’ve come to make sure you don’t bail. Or politely drag your ass there. Whichever is fine by me.”
“You can politely drag someone?” Skylar challenged with a cocked brow.
Nat smirked and held her arms wide walking toward Steve, “Want me to demonstrate?”
“Oh, I can see you two are gonna get on just fine,” Steve observed dodging around Nat’s arms as she lazily ducked and weaved to grab him. Skylar chuckled at the friendly exchange but she cut it off when Steve stood in front of her. His tight expression was serious, but his eyes held a wealth of sympathy. “Sam told us you haven’t spoken for a couple days. He needs to talk to you, to tell you what’s going on before you hear it from someone else.”
Skylar rolled her eyes and an involuntarily sneer pulled her lips back, “Like TMZ? I’ve already seen the pictures.”
Natasha came to a stop beside Steve as if she were his back-up, but fixed Skylar with a warm smile, “We have a plan to get to the bottom of this whole Gabby situation and Sam didn’t want to tell you in case…”
“It’s the truth,” Skylar offered with a heavy sigh turning to go into the kitchen.
“There’s a small chance, very small,” assured Nat following close behind.
“Sam hasn’t given up on the two of you,” said Steve, accepting Skylar’s offer of a bottle of water. “Neither should you.”
Nat slipped into a seat at the breakfast bar and Steve followed her lead, both staring expectantly at Skylar. “I know you’re just being good friends to Sam,” she acknowledged passing a second bottle to Nat. “But there’s no way I’m going to a party with Sam and the chick carrying his kid.”
“Look, I get it it’s not going to be easy,” Nat explained. “It’s probably going to be just as bad as you imagine it will be. But you’re Sam’s family. More than any of us, you should be there. He wants you there.”
“And he deserves the chance to explain what’s going on,” Steve added, “face to face.”
Skylar could feel her resolve wavering, they weren’t just a super soldier and a skilled assassin they were clearly master manipulators too.
“I like you, you punch super soldiers and blame them for it,” Nat quipped, “but no offence, that,” she gestured to Skylar’s sweatpants and tank top, “is not part of the dress code.”
Skylar frowned, “I look good,” she snarked playfully. “You don’t like the whole natural, just got out of bed look?”
“You look and smell like you were in that bed for three days straight.”
Well damn if she wasn’t perceptive as well as politely threatening too. It hadn’t been three days. Thursday when she got home from Sam’s she’d changed into the attire she was currently wearing and hidden in the warmth of her bed. She’d given a bullshit excuse to work and took a personal day Friday and then spent most of Saturday morning in her bed before moving to the couch. So two days, but who was counting. Besides didn’t she deserve some time to wallow? The man she’d been in love with her entire life confessed to feeling the same for the last sixteen years and another woman was having his baby. That situation warranted a little self pity.
Skylar put a hand to her chest offended, “I thought women were supposed to build each other up.”
“That’s exactly what I’ll do when you get your ass in the shower and get ready.”
“I have nothing…”
“Taken care of,” Nat interrupted smugly. “There’s ten dresses in the car in your size. Quit stalling. Shower. Go. Now.” Nat waved her off.
Skylar stared at her challengingly, trying to think of another valid argument or decide whether she should call her bluff on the polite dragging. “Why are you doin’ this? I don’t mean to sound rude but what difference does it make to you if I’m there or not?”
Natasha gazed at her for a long moment, as if she was considering being snarky or giving a real answer. She exhaled and the smile that crept to her lips made Skylar believe it was her first genuine one since she’d arrived. The mask was down, the tough as nails facade disappeared if only for a moment and she spoke softly. “Because you’re Sam’s family and now Sam’s our family. So that makes us family too.”
Skylar shied from her intense gaze, tears welled in her eyes but to hide the emotion she smirked a little cockily, “Sam tell you to use the family card?”
Natasha laughed and Steve chuckled admitting, “he doesn’t know we’re here.”
“But we do know, Sam wants you there,” said Nat, “And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t make me spend the night watching Sam pout because you’re not there.”
“We’re definitely family, manipulation and shit I don’t want to hear.” sighed Skylar lazily walking out of the room toward the shower.
Skylar was grateful Nat had taken them through the back entrance to avoid the paparazzi outside of Stark Tower waiting to get the money shot of one of the many celebrities, high ranking officials, and super heroes attending the Stark Expo Party.
She was further thankful that Natasha had forced her to shower and dress accordingly. The few people she’d spied before they snuck down the back alley proved that sweats and dirty hair were definitely not part of the dress code for the evening.
However, she was second guessing - for the millionth time - the black floor length dress that she had chosen to wear. The open split up to her left thigh and the low rounded neck exposing the curve of her braless breasts felt a little too revealing. Regardless of how amazing the fabric felt against her skin and Nat’s reassurance, Skylar didn’t trust that the magical tape would hold her modesty in place.
“Stop fussing!” Nat scolded her when she tried to tug the dress up at the boobs but down her exposed thigh. “You look amazing!”
“I feel like my boobs are going to fall out,” she whined shuffling to fall in stride with Nat, “and the slightest breeze is going to expose my panties.”
“I told you not to wear any.”
“Yeah, cause that woulda made me feel a whole lot better.”
A drink, very strong, rich in flavor and color, would make her feel better, and Nat, seemingly reading her mind, headed straight for the bar, dragging Skylar by the hand as soon as they entered the main floor from the kitchen.
“So you can’t actually read minds, then?” Skylar concluded when Nat handed her a champagne flute.
“What?” Nat queried, wrapping her lips around the rim of her glass.
Skylar shook her head and chuckled, taking a delicate sip of her own drink and turning to face the room. She scanned the faces. A few celebrities she recognized milled around, but she couldn’t locate Sam and Gabby. She took a minute to decide whether that was a good thing or not. Did she need more time to prepare herself, or was it best to get it over with?
Her internal debate was interrupted when a familiar and welcome face appeared among the ones she didn’t know, being escorted by a pretty brunette she didn’t recognise.
“That sourpuss look is ruining that amazing dress, honey,” Mason told her, pulling her into a hug and kissing her cheek.
Skylar didn’t care about the insult, she was simply thankful he was there. “What’re you doing here?”
“You’re welcome,” said Nat grinning proudly. “Figured you’d want the moral support.”
Skylar thanked her and, truth be told, having Mason there made her feel significantly more relaxed. The pretty brunette who had escorted Mason through the crowd offered her hand, “Maria Hill. So are we ready to do this?”
“Do what?” Skylar glanced between the newly formed group.
“Phase one of my plan,” Nat’s brow waggled excitedly as she sipped her champagne.
“Plan?” Skylar queried. Nat offered no response, just breezed away and called for them to follow. “Nat, you still haven’t told me the plan!” Skylar whined as she tailed the spy.
Sam stood beside the tall barstool that Gabby was seated on, his arm draped over the back of the chair. He sipped the beer he had but it wouldn’t be long before he required something stronger. Steve was next to him, and whereas he looked bewildered and totally out of his depth, Gabby couldn’t have been happier. Her smile beamed when she marvelled at the faces of every person she recognized. It only faltered when she asked Sam if he knew them and he told her no.
Sam didn’t mind a good party, especially when the alcohol was on someone else's dime, but he wasn’t in the mood to play the dutiful sidekick to Captain America, fake smile for the cameras, or have to put up with Gabby’s excited gasps every time a different celebrity caught her eye.
“Oh my god, that’s Leonardo Dicaprio,” Gabby exclaimed louder than Sam would have liked. “Do you know him?”
Sam shook his head and took a long gulp of his beer. He was in no way a jealous guy. He didn’t care that she cared more about the people in the room than him, he just wished she was slightly more discreet about it. He didn’t want to call attention to them for fear he’d have to introduce Gabby to the world as his ‘girlfriend’. It felt wrong in every way. And it was, because it should have been Skylar by his side, introducing her to the world. After all, she was his world.
Steve was talking, or rather, complaining about why they even had to be there, and Sam could hear him but he wasn’t listening.
“Oh my god!” Gabby gasped again, “that’s Tom Cruise! Can you introduce me?”
“No,” said Sam more abruptly than intended. “The only people here I know are Cap, and Tony.”
“And them,” Steve corrected, nudging Sam’s arm to get his attention, then pointing in the direction of Nat, Maria, Skylar, and Mason making their way through the crowd.
The group walking toward them was a sight to behold, Nat and Maria had replaced their uniforms with cocktail dresses and looked spectacular. Sam appreciated how beautiful they both were. And maybe he was biased but they paled in comparison to Skylar. She was something else entirely. He’d spent the last few weeks fantasizing about feeling her skin against his own and now he could see most of that skin. He needed a minute to quiet the visions in his mind and stop the effect they were having on his anatomy.
Steve stepped forward, greeted each lady in turn with a half hug and kiss on the cheek and shook Mason’s hand. Sam followed his lead and introduced Gabriella to Natasha and Maria.
“How’s the hand?” Steve asked Skylar once greetings had been exchanged and the group had gathered around the table.
“Bruised,” she admitted holding it up to show him.
Sam accessed the steadily progressing bruise across her knuckles, “What happened?”
“She punched me,” Steve shrugged nonchalantly.
Skylar scoffed, “You deserved it!”
“It was a misunderstanding.”
“Next time, call before you come over.”
“Come over?” Gabby questioned brows raised high and a suggestive smirk on her red painted lips. “Is this,” she pointed back and forth between Cap and Skylar, “a thing?” Her excitement was palpable and she began to rant before anyone could respond. “That’d be awesome. We could double date, go as a foursome to all the parties, dinners, movies, award shows.”
Sam put a hand on her shoulder and raised his voice above her dreamy rambling. “Babe!”
“It’s not a thing,” Steve offered with an awkward smile.
“And even if it were,” Maria interjected, “None of that would be possible.” Maria waited until Gabby’s full attention was on her then continued. “After tonight we need to get you somewhere secure, cut off all social media, keep you behind closed doors away from the press. Maybe even change your name.”
“What?” Gabby stammered, “What do you mean?”
“We need to protect you,” offered Sam.
Maria explained further, her tone flat and direct. “We can’t flaunt you to the world, it puts a target on your back. Any potential threats would see you as a weakness, a way to get to Sam.”
“But I thought,” Gabby’s brow furrowed and she cleared her throat audibly as if trying to find the right words. “I, um...I thought we were going to announce the baby to the world.”
“Oh, we will,” Maria confirmed. “Once we know everything is okay, we’ll release a statement but no pictures. Don’t worry, we’ll keep you safe and hidden. Guards, fortified doors, it might be a little lonely but Sam will be with you when he’s not working. You’ll want for nothing, Tony has built a compound that has everything; pool, gym, screening room, nursery,” Maria winked and leant in as if to speak privately, “you need a live-in Nanny?”
“But what about my life? My family? My friends?”
Maria further explained as if it were the most obvious answer. “Of course they’ll have to get security clearance and we can have them escorted in for pre-arranged visits.”
“What about the wedding?” Gabby asked, and Mason spluttered around his glass. Mason’s semi-choking and Nat’s attempt to help mop him up went unnoticed, or Gabby was too absorbed in Maria’s declarations, “I’ve always wanted a big wedding.”
Sam drowned out her wedding plans and zeroed in on Skylar who stared back at him with just as much, if not more, intensity.
He had planned on telling her. Had tried calling her multiple times, to let her know Nat’s scheme and to avoid the very situation they were in. He hadn’t wanted to blindside her. Though originally, he hadn’t wanted to give her false hope, now he needed her to know there was a plan in place and that he hadn’t, nor would he, give up on them. But Skylar hadn’t afforded him the opportunity, she’d ditched his calls.
So here they were, locked in a silent argument. She stared daggers at him, nostrils flaring and her chest heaving with every breath. Sam grimaced but refused to look away. Confusion and upset bled into fury, and she ground her teeth, muscles rippling along her jaw.
Sam felt everyone’s eyes on them. Well, those who knew what reaction the revelation had caused. But he couldn’t break eye contact with her, he needed her to see how sorry he was because he couldn’t say it aloud. Steve purposely stepped between them. The back of his head blocked Sam’s view of her, and he released a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d taken.
“Skylar,” said Steve, more of a command than a request, “dance with me.”
Skylar took his outstretched hand, and Sam watched as she allowed him to lead her to the dancefloor.
“We didn’t know about the engagement,” explained Steve after less than a minute of swaying with Skylar on the shiny black dance floor. “But, y’know it’s not his choice. The PR guys have been hounding him, they’re worried about the image of…”
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” she interrupted. She hadn’t meant it to sound as hostile as it came out, so she explained, “I just want to dance with Captain America, be the envy of every woman - and I suspect a few men - here, rather than be the envious one.”
Steve chuckled as he spun her out, twirled her under his arm and pulled her back into his chest. “You know it’s you he wants.”
“Steve, please.” she groaned, exasperated. “I know you’re trying to be a good friend, and he’s lucky to have you and Nat looking out for him, but just stop. Please.”
Steve inhaled to further protest, and Skylar pulled back to look in his eyes, “I will punch you again.”
He conceded with a shake of his head and spun her again. Steve indulged her. She knew he would continue to dance all night if she requested. He’d give her an excuse to not have to return to the table as long as she wanted, but she knew it was unavoidable.
After too little time, but hopefully enough that the conversation had been steered to other topics, Skylar reluctantly thanked Steve then allowed him to lead her through the throngs of people back to their friends.
Fresh glasses of champagne and bottles of beer littered the table. Skylar focused on the drinks and not on Sam whispering something to Gabby.
Mason handed her a full glass with a suggestive smile and a waggle of his brow. She smirked, knowing full well she’d have to give him a play by play of her dance with Steve later. Mason’s smile grew wider as he focused on something over her shoulder. She knew the smile well. It was his fake ‘it’s so nice to see you’ grin, the one he saved for the assholes they had to deal with on a daily basis at work. When she heard her name being called in a familiar monotone, she knew it was her asshole of a boss, Jerry.
Of course he’d be at a Stark Industries party. Stark Industries owned an NFL team and provided top of the range training equipment. But why did he have to be there when she was wearing a more than revealing dress? He’d always been the leering type and now she’d have to fight off the urge to vomit on his shoes when he took in her appearance and made an inappropriate remark.
She sipped her champagne. Needed the courage and slight buzz to be polite before turning to face him and the fake smile she’d plastered on thawed into a genuine grin seeing the company Jerry kept.
“Mike.”
She exclaimed his name the same time he said hers and they simultaneously stepped toward one another to embrace.
The hug and ensuing conversation lasted a minute or so longer than it should have been but Skylar didn’t care. While she was wrapped up in the familiar, tall, blond man’s arms, the rest of the room disappeared, and she was transported back to her college years.
Mason, ever the personal assistant - always on the job - introduced Jerry to the people around the table, then her boss took over and introduced the other guest as Harvey, the CEO of the NFL’s London office.
“So,” Jerry stated when Skylar and Mike finally parted and took notice of the others. “You two know each other.”
“We dated in college,” Skylar explained and caught Mike’s eye. They both laughed and shied from the other’s gaze.
“Why’d you break up?” Gabby asked. The evil smirk she’d used to tell Skylar she was pregnant, fused to her lips again as if she hoped it would be a scandalous tale.
“I left for London,” Mike told her, “and Skylar went home. Long distance never would’ve worked.”
“Seems like it worked out for both of us though,” Skylar commented nudging her shoulder into Mike’s. “Mister Hot Shot lawyer for the NFL.”
“Say’s you,” Mike laughed, “Mrs. CEO…” he cut himself off quickly and his laughter crinkled eyes lifted from Skylar’s to Jerry as if asking for permission.
Skylar watched them have a silent conversation and then Jerry clapped his hands together excitedly. “I guess now is as good a time as any. Why wait until Monday?” he started, smiling broadly and putting his arm around Skylar’s shoulder. “We want to offer you the promotion, but rather than one step up, it’ll be two. Harvey, here,” he slapped the other gentleman beside him on the back fondly. “Is retiring. So we would very much like you to be the chief executive officer for the London office.”
She looked from Jerry to Mike to Harvey and back again as if waiting for the punchline. But when Mike nodded and smiled charmingly she understood it wasn’t a joke.
“Should I take your stunned silence as acceptance?” Jerry laughed, tucking her into his side and shaking her unnecessarily.
The shock had taken her breath for a moment and she needed a second to process. She locked eyes with Sam, and she wasn’t sure if he looked proud or challenging. He seemed conflicted, proud that she had achieved her goal, but daring her to accept the job because they both knew it meant she would be leaving.
It seemed like fate, perfect timing. It’s what she had wanted, exactly what she had been working so hard for, more than what she had been striving for. Moving to London hadn’t been part of the plan but she’d work out the finer details. Plus the added bonus of Mike, someone she knew to help her settle in. And loathe to admit it, she liked the idea of having an escape from Sam and Gabby. Arguably Skylar leaving would make the whole situation easier on Sam too, relieve some of his stress over their dilemma.
“Um, yes,” said Skylar quietly, shrugging out of his embrace and averting her gaze from Sam. She cleared her throat and spoke louder with more conviction. “Yes! I accept. But I have one condition.”
“There’s the woman for the job,” Jerry praised.
“I get to choose my successor,” she advised and without waiting for confirmation her term would be accepted, she walked to stand beside Mason, putting her arm around his shoulders, “Mason gets my current job.”
Jerry smirked and nodded, “as I suspected. We’ll work out the details Monday.” He confirmed shaking Skylar’s then Mason’s hand congratulating them both. “Excuse us we have a little more mingling to do.”
Jerry sauntered off with Harvey in toe and Mike quickly turned to Skylar.
“I gotta go,” Mike told her and was obviously upset at the fact. “Make sure they don’t make any deals they shouldn’t,” he rolled his eyes as if he were used to it. He handed her his phone and she dialled in her number. “Come find me later?”
Skylar nodded before placing a light kiss on his cheek. “Definitely.”
Mason had enough self control to wait until they were out of ear shot before he squealed and hugged Skylar tightly.
“I need some air,” Sam announced.
Skylar watched from Mason’s embrace as Sam dodged behind people and swiftly disappeared into the crowd. The rest of the group congratulated her and Mason with hugs and well wishes.
Steve announced they needed champagne to celebrate, but she knew it was more than that when he headed in the same direction Sam had fled. Skylar knew she’d have to talk to Sam sooner rather than later to hash out all the things that had been said with tension filled glares and lingering looks. But first, she’d need a way to occupy Gabby. At least that was the excuse she fed herself when she didn’t immediately follow after Steve.
Truth be told, she didn’t know if she had the strength for another heartbreaking conversation. She didn't want to talk about Sam's pending nuptials of her promotion. Both led to the same conclusion: they were leaving each other behind.
If she were going to broach the subjects, and inevitably knew she would have to, she needed more champagne. Then she’d go talk to Sam. Maybe if she were buzzed, the alcohol would help numb some of the heartache she knew would only get worse.
