TALK TOO MUCH

INCLUDES -> sam wilson x reader
WARNINGS -> fluff with a bit of angst (bc i can’t help myself), misunderstandings, accidental machmaker joaquín, light blood and injury, alcohol
WORD COUNT -> 3.7k

NOTES -> first sam fic, pls be gentle with me. also, the army man thing was 100% inspired by ted lasso, but sue me! it’s such a sam thing to do. and as always: comments and rbs are much appreciated, and my asks are open!

it isn’t unusual for you, sam, and joaquín to have a late night catching up on “official superhero business,” as joaquín likes to call it. there’s always more recon to be done, more adjustments to be made to the wings, more training. and with joaquín officially taking sam’s side as falcon, that leaves you as the primary analyst.

which often means poring over hours of security footage or pages of legal jargon—especially now that there’s a legal case being made against the so-called “new avengers.”

but finding real, usable footage and evidence on security feeds is never like the movies. it’s always terribly slow-going, even if you’re watching it sped up. you’ve moved from your desk, to sitting on the couch, to draping yourself across it with a coffee in hand. you made a mental note long ago to thank sam for putting it in the base, but now you really have to deliver on that. without it, your back would no doubt be aching from the desk chair, and after well over an hour of footage and no sign of the weapon dealers you’re supposed to keep an eye out for, it would have been hell.

that slow crawl of footage, combined with the quiet hours of the night, have your eyes heavy with sleep.

“working hard or hardly working?” comes sam’s voice from the door.

Keep reading

excuse how weird the formatting of this is and how short it is. i fear i’m also starting to get sick <//3

when you’re sick, he pampers the hell out of you. for as long as it takes for you to get better, what you say goes. yet another excuse to talk about joaquín as an acts of service kind of guy

hungry? he’s already got soup warming on the stove (none of that reheating in the microwave nonsense, not while you’re sick), and the pantry is already filled with your favorite snacks. he keeps an extra water bottle handy, too, just in case. as a matter of fact, the medicine cabinet gets stocked up. when he found the time to go out and get it all, you can’t be sure.

taking a nap? the curtains are already drawn, and the bed is made. and if you want him to stay with you, he’s in the bed before you can blink. he shrugs off any concerns you have about getting him sick, saying that if he does, that just means more time at home with you.

want to watch something? great! the clicker is all yours, and he’ll be sitting right next to you the whole time. on the off chance you pick something he isn’t into, well, he is now! he gets invested so quickly—asking questions about what’s happening and who’s involved.

“you feeling any better, angel?” he mumbles into your ear. he’s been half asleep since you both curled up on the couch to watch something, and you aren’t faring much better. there are empty bowls sitting in front of you on the coffee table, and the tv plays on quietly. your eyes droop more and more as each second passes, and it takes everything in joaquín not to laugh at you just a little bit.

“mmm, i’m tired,” you say, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

“want to finish watching this now or later?” even though he’s not sure you’ll stay awake until the end, he asks anyways.

“now,” but your voice is already fading.

“you sure you don’t want to get to bed?” you just hum in confirmation, breathing already starting to even out—through the sniffling, that is.

he doesn’t mind, though. he’ll stay on this couch with you as long as you need him to, and he’s more than happy to act as your pillow. his fingers draws soft circles on the nape of your neck, letting you get the rest you so desperately need.

if he’s totally sure you’re out, he’ll carry you gently back to bed and tuck you under the blankets. he’s laying next to you within moments, of course.

when you wake up, there’s a hand slung over you, holding you close to him, and a full water bottle on your bedside table, just in case.