The Grumpy Sunshine Series

The Birds and The Bees

Author's Note: "Being that she stayed in a room most of her life- just hear me out- a oneshot - of Sam giving her the" TALK!" like birds and bees and where baby's come from I think that would be funny"

@/thequeeranarchist "I don't know if you take requests, but I thought about if someone had to explain the birds and the bees to sunshine considering she probably never had been told about it. Idk, I thought about sunshine and Bucky's first time together too, but I don't know your comfortability with what you write and what you don't. And grumpy x sunshine is officially my favourite trope now bc of this series."

I don't even- I just don't even know what to say. (Please note, that as I write this, I'm quite literally giggling to myself and have quite literally reverted to my awkward 16 year old self) I get requests somewhat regularly, but this, this is the most requested topic. You guys just really wanted to know about this.

Listen, here's the thing, reading second hand embarrassment is one thing. WRITING IT? I was in physical pain, but the scene wasn't going to write itself. I tried, it really didn't write itself.

But I did it. Because I love you guys.

And now, it'll be another 5 to 7 business days before I can log back on.

P.S. I know there's other people who requested it too, but I can't find the requests, but please know I didn't forget about you!

Summary: Falling in love is easy, as natural as breathing, so why is talking about it so embarrassing?

"Sam," you frantically call from the doorway, clutching your racing heart, "I think I'm dying."

"What? Why? What happened?" Sam rushes out, frantically searching you for signs of duress.

You double over, hands clutching your sides, "Well, I'm not sure, but I did Google it and I think I'm having a heart attack."

Sam takes a long sigh, resting his hands on his hips in mild exasperation. At least he knew you weren't actually dying. "And why do you think you're having a heart attack?"

"I just," you dramatically clutch your chest, finally standing upright, "My heart feels like it's in my stomach, and- and I'm all sweaty, and fluttery. And I want to curl up into a little ball and die, but maybe also listen to every Taylor Swift song ever written."

"Well, that was," Sam clears his throat, "That was very descriptive."

You flop down on your couch and groan into one of the cushions, "Just leave me here to die."

"You're not dying."

You lift your head to glare at him, "You don't know."

"I do know," Sam insists. "You're a healthy, 25 year old woman, the chances of you having a heart attack are almost zero."

"But not zero," you point out.

Sam sighs, grabbing your hand and pulling you up off the couch, "You're not dying, and you're not having a heart attack."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"If you're wrong, I'll haunt you."

"I'll take my chances," Sam playfully rolls his eyes, "So what were you doing right before you thought you were having a heart attack?"

"I-" you clear your throat, a furious blush warming your entire face, "I don't want to tell you."

He should've known something was wrong right from the get go. You were always so open, so honest about everything. You weren't raised under the same social contract, or any social contract, and you were still learning basic social norms and customs. For better or worse, you were the most honest and open person Sam had ever known.