Imagine If You Assembled The Avengers: Volume 2

Who's a Pretty Boy? (Sam Wilson x reader)

Sam sat in the waiting room of your dentist's office patiently, though cringing at the sounds of drills boring into teeth in the rooms behind him, and coughing away the harsh scent of antiseptic that filled his nostrils and stung at his throat. He hated dental offices as much as Steve hated doctors, but when you had asked him to come with you to this appointment, you had such a pleading look in your eyes that he couldn't say no despite his better judgement.

"Mr. Wilson?"

"Yeah," he stood, turning towards the assistant, "yeah, that's me."

"(Y/N)'s just about ready to go. She's been finished for a while, but we needed her to wait to be sure that she didn't have any reaction to the nitrous oxide."

"Nitrous oxide? Wait," he stopped, his grin growing wide, "isn't that laughing gas?"

"It is."

"Oh, that's perfect," he chuckled darkly, pulling his phone from his pocket and opening the camera to video. With a tight grip on the device, he followed her back to your room, grinning like an idiot the entire way. "I've gotta get every second of this."

~~~

"There's my Sammy! Sammalammadingdong!"

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus," he laughed, hurrying to lift his phone, "(Y/N), are you okay?"

"I fleel...I fleel...I'm gooooood, baby." Your own laugh stopped abruptly and you looked at him straight on, your expression completely changing and turning serious as you sat up with a wobble. "Are you okay, Sambo? You look really fuzzy."

"I'm good, darlin', don't you worry," he reassured. He quickly took the seat next to you and grabbed your arm, urging you to lie back down before you fell over. "They gave you laughing gas, (Y/N). You're still a little bit out of it."

"Oh, okay." You rested your head back against the pillow, finding yourself feeling heavy as if you were sinking into the mattress, but it wasn't bad; it was the most relaxed that you had felt in weeks, having been nervous about this appointment. Bringing Sam was a purposeful choice; having your best friend at your side was the only thing that was sure to keep you calm, and seeing him smiling back at you only solidified how much you appreciated him. "I love you, Samarino."

"Aw, I love you too, (Y/N)."

"No! You don't get it!" you groaned. "I really love you."

"I really love you too," he repeated, his phone still held high.

"And you're so pretty," you continued, "did you know that? Who's a pretty boy? You're a pretty boy, aren't you? Say that you're a pretty boy."

"(Y/N)...are you talking to me like I'm a parrot?"

"You really shouldn't put yourself down like that, Sambuca. You're a falcon. A big, scary falcon." You raised up your hands to look like talons, clawing at the air in front of you with a silly attempt at an angry face, "so scary...rawr."

"Falcons don't rawr, (Y/N)."

"Caw caw, motherfucker."

"Hey, language," he snapped, turning the phone around so that it would face him instead. "I'm sorry, Cap. It's the drugs, not her."

"Steeeeve is such a looooser. He's such a tight ass. He needs to have fun, Sambypamby, and with an ass that tight, he should be having more fun than anyone. Have you seen it? Sometimes I just want to pinch it or give it a good 'ol slap just to watch my hand bounce."

"Okay, we're just gonna turn this off now," he groaned, pushing his phone into his pocket, "I think we've got enough. Are you okay to walk? Do you need me to carry you out?"

"Pfft, I can do this. Just you watch." Pushing yourself up, you sat on the edge of the cot for a moment and let the room catch up to you, still feeling a bit of vertigo at the shift. When it finally slowed, you stood up, but your feet wobbled and tangled together, sending you tipping forward and into Sam's ready hold. "See, this is why I love you, Samsonite."

"Okay, so I'm luggage now? How many names do you have for me, anyway?"

"That's for me to know and for you to...not know..."

"Right," he huffed, bending to lift you into his arms so that he could just carry you out; expecting you to walk with any success seemed pointless, and he quickly decided that giving you the option wasn't actually an option. "I'm going to get you home and into bed, okay? I think the best thing is for you to sleep this off."

"Are you gonna go with me?"

"Uh...no?"

"Why not?" you whined, pushing out your bottom lip slightly. "You're such a party pooper. How many hints do I have to give you so that you get it? I thought that falcons were smart."

"Hey, watch it. Don't insult the species."

"Big, dumb falcon," you mumbled petulantly, making him stop and drop you onto your feet in a huff.

"Alright, now I'm not so sure that this is the laughing gas talking. What's going on?"

You still wavered on your feet, but he at least kept one hand on you when he saw it happening. Your brain was still clouded and covered in a foggy haze, but it was starting to clear, and when you looked up at him to see the serious question in his expression, it cleared that much faster. "I..I um...I guess that I've been trying to tell you that I have these feelings...and maybe this just helped that along because I didn't know how to say it."

"Oh, okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool," he stammered, "sure, I uh...I can understand that...how it would be tough to say. I would totally get that."

"You would?"

"Well, yeah. I've been trying to figure out how to tell you for forever, so thanks for doing all of the work. But," he paused, pointing at you sternly, "if we're going to do this, then let's get a few things straight. My name is Sam, you're damn right that I'm a falcon, and you can bet your ass that I'm scary. Caw, caw, motherfucker." He smiled at you proudly, his eyes shining playfully as he waited for your response, but before you could say anything, his grin slipped slightly and he backpedaled in fear when you started to walk away on your own.

"Hey, you're not gonna tell Cap that I said that, right? You're still all fuzzy brained, aren't ya? (Y/N)? Come on, if you're gonna be my girlfriend now, you need to protect me!"