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Sam Wilson wasn’t the fastest man around, but he was certainly the most tenacious
He jogged every morning and had done so for the last ten years. You were usually asleep when he left at the crack of dawn and in the kitchen by the time he returned, his gray jumper soaked through with sweat, with a very cheerful Captain America in tow. Occasionally, Bucky joined them, though after the first few days he had gotten tired of teasing Sam about his slowness and went back to his typical indoor workout routine and solitary night runs. Even Steve would take a jab at Sam once in a while, though you knew it was all in good fun, and you laughed along with him, much to Sam’s halfhearted annoyance.
“Looking good, boys,” you rasped one morning, when the two of them entered the kitchen sweaty as ever. Bucky sat next to you at the kitchen island, reading the newspaper and sipping some coffee. For breakfast, you had made Belgian waffles for the two of you, over half of which had already been eaten by Bucky. You were only on your second. “I know quite a few fans who would kill for pics of you two like this. Care to smile for the camera?” You waggled your eyebrows suggestively. Bucky snorted.
Sam laughed through his panting and patted you on the back as he passed you on his way to the fridge. “I’m sure our star-spangled friend here would burst into flame from blushing so hard.”
Steve tousled your hair, worsening your bedhead and smiling when you swatted at him. “Pay me enough and I just might.”
Bucky choked on his coffee. “Punk, you would never,” he grumbled between coughs. “I know you. You’d be the most bashful pin-up model. Don’t even try it.”
Steve’s ears reddened. Around you and Sam, he had an air of confidence and wit that only Bucky, who knew him like the back of his hand, could break. “Let me have one joke, Buck, just one joke,” he begged, reaching over to punch him in the shoulder.
“Jokes cost ten cents apiece, Steve,” you quipped seamlessly. You could see Bucky grinning at you from the corner of your eye. “Pay up and he might let you have one. I’ll let you have one for the simple price of one of your Grade A American massages.”
Steve arched an eyebrow at you skeptically.
You matched his expression. “I’ve seen your hands. I know what you can do with them, and I’m sore all the time. I expect your best, Rogers.”
He rolled his eyes and went on rummaging through the fridge.
“If anyone needs a massage,” Sam spoke up, leaning against the counter across from you with a cold water bottle in hand, “it’s me.” His eyes glowed as he looked at you. “I’m always sore after a jog. Care to help me out, Y/N?”
You bit your bottom lip, peeking up at him from your lashes as you pushed your leftover bits of waffle around your plate. “I’m not the best masseuse on the team but I’ll do my best,” you replied coyly, taking another bite of your breakfast.
Sam smiled. You thought you might pass out right then and there from how much blood was rushing to your face. You had joined the team three years ago, shortly after the take-down of S.H.I.E.L.D., and since then, you had fallen hard for the Falcon himself. Although each of the Avengers welcomed you with open arms, Sam had been the first one to truly warm up to you—and vice versa. He was compassionate, funny, charming, and by far the greatest listener you’d ever encountered. He was also handsome, which was a plus; with a beautiful personality and looks to match, you were shocked that Sam was single. In fact, in all the time you had lived at the tower, you had never once seen him bring someone home or heard him mention having a date. You and he worked well together out in the field, with you electrocuting enemies on the ground and Sam taking out targets up in the sky, but outside of the workplace, you and Sam clicked on a personal level. You knew he had noticed it, too, but you couldn’t tell how serious his lighthearted flirtations really were.
“Y/N?”
Sam’s concerned voice jolted you back to reality. He had asked you something. “Sorry, what?” you uttered, awkwardly swallowing an unchewed cube of waffle.
His brow smoothed over with relief. “I was wondering if you’d like to join me for tomorrow’s jog. I could use a partner who doesn’t leave me behind in the dust.”
“Sam, you know I’d keep pace with you if you asked—”
“Oh, you’ve had your chance, Rogers,” Sam growled, fixing Steve with a frown before turning back to you. Bucky was snickering. “Anyway, whaddya say? It gets lonely out there sometimes. I’d love for you to come along, keep me company, remind me that I jog at a perfectly normal pace for a normal human being.”
You grinned. “Am I the best choice for this, Sam? I mean, I am far from a ‘normal’ human being.” You held up a hand; a white-blue electrical current crackled between your fingers to prove your point.
Sam’s eyes zeroed in on the electricity you were generating. He always got a kick out of watching you demonstrate your abilities. “Well, if that’s the case, why don’t you show me what a high-voltage human being is capable of?” he countered, taking a long gulp of water.
Your grin broadened. “Count me in.” As quickly as it had appeared, your jovial expression vanished. “Wait a minute… Does this mean I have to wake up early? Like ‘crack of dawn’ early?”
Sam’s lips quirked up in a smug smirk. “Yup,” he replied, popping the p.
You groaned loudly, leaning over to hide your face in Bucky’s shoulder. “Don’t expect me to wake up on my own,” you grumbled.
“Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll wake you myself,” Sam promised.
With your face turned into Bucky’s sleeve, you smiled.
The following morning went less smoothly than you had hoped.
Sam woke you up at five A.M. He said your name a few times, then shook your shoulder gently. You sat up with a battle cry and sent a couple volts of electricity into his body, thinking he was an enemy. He let go of you and fell to the floor with a shriek, twitching for a few seconds while you leaped out of bed and frantically apologized.
“Sorry, Sam,” you mumbled again during the elevator ride down, hugging your arms to your body and hanging your head in shame. The two of you had enjoyed some muffins for breakfast to load up on carbs before your jog.
Sam chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. You can make it up to me with my post-workout massage.” He winked at you. “And besides, I’ve felt worse. I can handle a few sparks.”
You couldn’t help but smile at that. You glanced at Sam, biting on the inside of your cheek as you fought to hide your amusement. He was in the same gray pullover and basketball shorts. Today, his shorts were army-green. For your outfit, you had decided on gray joggers, your best running shoes, a terrycloth sweatband, and a dark blue Captain America sweatshirt (just to spite Sam). When he saw you come out of your room with the shield emblazed on your chest, he’d merely shaken his head in disappointment. “Traitor,” he muttered under his breath.
“No Steve today?” you asked Sam, leaning back against the elevator wall with your hands grasping the railing.
He shook his head but didn’t look disappointed in the slightest. “Said he wasn’t gonna go this morning.” He looked over at you, his eyes trained on yours. “I kinda like it just being the two of us though. When do I ever get you to myself?”
You rolled your eyes. “Movie nights, after dinner, during missions, on the quinjet, long walks in the park—”
“O.K., O.K., maybe I’m not as Y/N-deprived as I thought,” Sam said, his voice punctuated with laughter. “I just enjoy our one-on-one time, that’s all.”
You smiled, rolling up the sleeves of your jumper. You weren’t looking at Sam, but you could see him looking at you in your peripherals. “Me too. If this goes well, maybe I’ll join you for runs more often.” You winked at him.
Sam bit down on his lower lip, suppressing a smile. “Let’s see how today goes,” he affirmed quietly.
Once the elevator doors reached the lobby, the two of you headed outside, where the sky had barely blanched to a milky violet. You discovered what you had speculated before: Sam was beautiful in the mornings. He couldn’t have slept more than six hours last night and yet here he was, his deep brown skin positively glowing in the pale light of dawn. He stood silhouetted by the mauve clouds above, and you were so lost in your reverie that you barely heard him when he asked, “Ready to get going?”
You nodded and the two of you set out for Central Park at a slow walk, building up for the actual run. Sam informed you that he usually jogged three laps around the whole park, with a fourth lap of walking to cool down. Once the two of you reached Park Drive, Sam led you through a series of dynamic stretches: Frankenstein kicks, high-knees, lunges, calf raises, all until your body was warm and your muscles felt much looser than before. Finally, you both began to jog down Park Drive at a comfortable pace. Neither of you spoke—you doubted you had enough breath in your lungs to run and make conversation—and so the only sound was the slap of your sneakers against the concrete. Eventually, the two of you were jogging in sync.
It was a chilly autumn morning, but by the first ten minutes, you were sweating profusely, soaking through your heavy sweatshirt. You were athletic, having been a member of the team for years, but you were more accustomed to short-distance sprints on missions than to long-distance runs. At least jogs like these would be good for your endurance. You spared a glance at Sam and saw that he was sweaty, too, with a darkened patch growing at the collar of his gray pullover. A few other joggers passed the two of you or fell into step behind you. Every so often, you peeked up at the sky, watching it shift from a soft, pinkish dove-gray to much more vibrant shades of rose and peach, dominated by a field of blue. It was beautiful, witnessing the sunrise with Sam beside you. You wondered if the sun’s rays were absorbed as mesmerizingly by your eyes as they were by Sam’s. His eyes had brightened to a warm and heavenly amber.
Sam caught you staring and smirked at you. “Enjoying the view?” he said, panting.
You narrowed your eyes at him. "Did you just take me out here so I’d see how pretty you look and go on another date with you?” you teased.
Sam’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Is this a date?” he asked, beaming at you.
Your cheeks seared with heat. You could feel electricity thrumming beneath your skin as you held his gaze, so you looked away, fighting back a smile. “Take me out to lunch afterward and we’ll see, Samuel,” you said. You saw his beam widen in the corner of your eye.
Within the first hour, you and Sam had reached the opposite end of Central Park and were looping around to repeat the journey when you heard much heavier footsteps behind you, nearing you at a frightfully fast pace. You snuck a glance over your shoulder and almost shrieked when Steve barreled past you.
“On your left!” Steve said to Sam as he passed between you two, and you swore he was smirking.
You looked over at Sam to see his eyes wide with shock and anger. You knew that Steve meant that as a challenge, encouraging Sam to follow him. You saw Sam get ready to sprint after him, and before he could chase Steve, you reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt, holding him back and slowing to a stop. Sam frowned at you, his brow furrowed with frustration, but you smiled at him. “Not worth it,” you told him, patting his shoulder. “Now is not the time for a race.”
Sam sighed and dropped his head. “Alright. Let’s keep going,” he mumbled, and the two of you set out again.
You were about two hours in, just looping around the end of Park Drive where you had started when you were lapped again, this time by a certain dark-haired super soldier.
“On your left!” Bucky yelled as he ran past, his shoulders widening the space between you and Sam to make room for his herculean form. You snorted when he smirked at Sam over his shoulder.
“C’mon, man!” Sam shouted after him. He growled under his breath and you held onto his sleeve, urging him to stay with you. He relaxed under your touch, exhaling deeply as the two of you continued down Park Drive.
The sun was steadily rising, bright as ever, its rays still reflecting off of the fluffy clouds. An icy breeze stirred the trees around you, sending leaves spiraling down on either side of you. You got a kick out of crushing them underfoot, out of the satisfying crunch of the leaves beneath your shoe, and Sam joined you, making a point to step on each leaf in his path. The two of you were about to begin your third lap when you heard the swift footsteps again, coming closer and closer.
Both Steve and Bucky sprinted past on either side of Sam, making a point of nudging him with their broad shoulders. You hopped to the side to give them room, giggling when both men waved at you, grinning innocently.
“On your left!”
“On your right!”
And they bolted.
This time, Sam launched after them before you could stop him, chasing after them in a full sprint. It was the fastest you had ever seen Sam run, and you quickened your pace to ensure that you could still see him. The distance between him and the two super soldiers was rapidly increasing, and your breath caught in your throat as Sam’s foot caught on a crack in the cement. He flew forward, landing roughly on his hands and knees, then tucked and rolled off the sidewalk, coming to a stop in the grass.
“Sam!” you cried, hurrying over to him. He was on his back, arms folded over his eyes, his lips set in a deep frown. You knelt down next to him, heart hammering against your ribcage. “Are you O.K.?”
He groaned.
You gulped and scanned his body for injuries. The heels of his hands were rubbed raw and pink from the impact with the ground. His knees were shredded and bleeding. Other than that, you figured he had survived the fall with a few bruises. “Looks like your knees are scraped,” you said, and Sam groaned again. You covered your hand with your sleeve and carefully brushed some of the flecks of dirt and concrete from Sam’s knees. He hissed in pain. “Sorry,” you murmured, settling back on your haunches and peering down at him with your head cocked to the side. He still had his arms over his eyes. “Sam?”
“They’re just so damn fast,” he grumbled. “Tryna make a fool outta me.” He mumbled something indiscernible.
“What was that?” you asked. He sighed. You rolled your eyes and took his forearms in your hands, removing them from his face so you could see him entirely. He wasn’t tearing up, like you suspected, but his eyes were sad, filled with disappointment. “Sam?” you said quietly.
Sam’s eyes flickered briefly to yours, softening a bit at the sight of you. He slid his forearms out of your grasp and took your hands. “Tryna embarrass me in front of you,” he admitted finally, avoiding your gaze.
Your cheeks grew warm, but not from the jogging, more from the realization that Sam had wanted to impress you, with the beauty of the sunrise and Central Park at dawn. He must have confided in Bucky and Steve after breakfast, must have asked them not to come so they wouldn’t make him look bad. You knew those two could be rascals on their own, but together, they were nothing but trouble. You knew they teased Sam, all in good fun, and you wondered if they had teased him about you.
“Sam,” you said, and this time he looked at you, “you don’t have to impress me to get me to jog with you.” You squeezed his hands. “Just being in your company is enough for me.” You smiled down at him sweetly and added coquettishly, “And the view isn’t half-bad.”
Sam blinked for a few moments, your words slowly registering in his head, then chuckled. “You’re too good to me,” he muttered, sitting up with a grunt. “Should probably head back so I can clean those up.” He indicated his torn-up knees.
You nodded, standing up and hauling him to his feet with you. “Think you can finish the lap?” you asked him.
“Sure. Wouldn’t wanna miss the cool-down walk, either. Next time they come around, I’m tripping them both.” He stepped back onto the sidewalk. You followed, giggling, still holding one of his hands. Your heart was thundering in your chest at his closeness; you wondered if he could hear it. “Hope you don’t mind us taking it easy for the next couple miles.”
You sighed in faux exasperation, nudging him with your hip. “I suppose, Samuel.” After a moment’s deliberation, you turned and pressed your lips to his in a brief, tender kiss, pulling away with a soft smack. Sam gaped down at you, his eyes bugging out of his head with surprise. “I’ve always been more of a sprinter myself,” you said, and you took off down the path at high speed, laughing, leaving Sam to squawk in outrage and chase after you, injuries forgotten.