As you stood on the sidewalk just outside of the airport, watching taxi after taxi pass you by, you wondered how the world had lasted so long if the Avengers were always this late. You had been standing there for nearly an hour, passengers who had sat next to you on the plane now long since gone. The overwhelming fumes of exhaust hung so heavily in the air that you began to feel a little high, and a headache was creeping in from the lack of clean oxygen. Maybe it was making time feel like it passed slower, but when you checked your phone one more time for any text with an update, you found it to be exactly as long as you had thought.

When your promised driver finally showed up, the sleek black car speeding past everyone else to get to you, it wasn't a surprise at all who it was that Steve had sent to pick you up. The car slammed into park and the driver's side door flung open, your hand-picked Avenger tumbling out in a near panic with hands flailing as his apology tumbled out.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N), I'm so sorry! The traffic was the worst it's ever been, and I tried to take a different way but the construction shut down the only way that I knew, and now it's starting to snow so no one can remember how to drive in this shi-"

"You must be Sam."

"Yes," he panted with a heavy sigh, hurrying to stand in front of you with an extended hand, "yes...I'm Sam Wilson...and I'm really, really sorry."

"Nice to meet you, Sam," you said, taking his hand and holding it just a moment longer than you normally would. You hoped that maybe if one of you could stay composed, he might calm down enough to actually drive you to the compound in one piece. "It's okay, things happen, I get it. A text or a call would have been nice, but you're here now, so let's just get going, okay?"

He reached down to grab your suitcase, but you were faster, taking it and moving to the trunk of the car so that he could open it for you. "Okay, great, yeah, let's go," he agreed readily, "but there's just one thing, if I could ask a tiny favor?"

"Hmm, I barely know you, but sure..."

"Could you maybe not tell Steve how late I was? He's a stickler for punctuality, and if he finds out that I left you out here for that long, he'll kick my ass into next week."

"As much fun as that might be to watch, Sam, sure, I'll cover you. What are new friends for?"

Day 1

The first few minutes of the drive were silent, other than Sam's few mumbles of curses under his breath at fellow drivers as he tried to maneuver his way out of the airport. It would seem that a fair amount of people that he had passed by on his way in were now getting their satisfaction in paying him back for his haste. You hadn't been paying too close of attention, however, your focus taken by what it was that he was driving; the panel in front of him looked ridiculously complex and you were almost scared to do so much as figure out which control was the radio.

"So," he began calmly again as he reached the open freeway, "how long have you known Cap?"

"Um, a few years now, I guess. We worked together at SHIELD for the short time that he was there. You know, before it crashed into the Potomac."

"Oh boy, do I ever know it. I was there."

"Right! You were, I forgot," you smiled, giving him a playful slap on his arm. The comfort of it was unexpected, but you let it go and tried to not bring attention to it. "Now that I think back, I do remember hearing a call go out about some guy heading up to the 41st floor to take on Rumlow. I'm glad to see you made it out."

"Almost didn't. I told Fury where I was and he was a little off target when I jumped."

"Sam, they don't put the numbers on the outside of the building."

"That's what he said!" he exclaimed, slamming a hand down on the steering wheel in frustration. "You SHIELD people are all alike, you know that? Do they cover how to be a smartass in orientation or something? I mean, I know that Cap wasn't there all that long, but he's just as bad!"

"All final hiring approvals go through Fury, so maybe there's something to that," you offered with a shrug. "And by the way, Steve's the worst. The absolute worst. He's a little shit, and there's nothing he loves more than getting away with it."

"Oh, I know. I had that guy figured out after his first lap. On your left. Seriously, I love the dude, but he's kind of a dick."

"I'm gonna tell him you said that."

"What?! Why?! I thought you had my back!"

"For being late! Not for calling out one of my best friends just because you're a little bitch who can't handle getting picked on!"

Sam finally took his eyes off the road long enough to look over at you, his mouth hanging agape and his eyes wide yet holding just a hint of amusement as he assessed the moment, and assessed you. There was a fast ease about talking to you, and it took a record-setting short time to find comfort in giving each other a hard time and know that there would be no hurt feelings after. Maybe this was why Steve had asked him to be the one to pick you up today; he knew something that neither of you did yet. "Okay, fine," he finally relented turning his attention back to the road, "I like ya."

~~~

An hour had gone by with more conversation, getting to know each other but also getting to hear about his new life on the team; there were so many stories of his work with Steve that you couldn't help but smile with each one, knowing that your friend had found someone who understood this kind of life after losing so much of his own. You could tell that Sam was a good guy to his core, and he was loyal to Steve without question.

Sam also came to a fast realization about why Steve counted you as one of his closest friends, after you sat and listened to him go on and on and on about work, all while never losing your focus on what he was saying. You listened to all of it without wavering or acting like you were disinterested, and he had never felt more at ease with anyone. As that first hour of travel upstate came to a close, however, the conversation made a quick turn as everything else around you slowed down.

"Well, here's the rest of that snow they predicted," he groaned softly. "It's looking pretty bad."

You had been so focused on what he had been saying all this time that you hadn't even noticed; when you finally turned your attentions from him to look out at the road ahead, you could barely see it. "How much farther do we have?"

"If it hadn't have been so bad getting out of the city, we'd probably be there by now, so...maybe another hour?" It's hard to say."

"Should we stop somewhere till it passes?"

"Maybe," he whispered as he considered, nervously chewing on the inside of his lip. His eyes moved across the scene in front of him, and you could almost see the gears spinning in his head as he tried to calculate the odds of just pushing through. "I could see if someone can get a jet out here, but that doesn't get the car off the side of the road...alright, let me think..."

"I think there's a bed and breakfast about another mile up and just off the main road."

"How would you know-" he stopped, confused, only to laugh at his own ineptitude when he turned to see your phone alight and pushed out for him to see. "Right. Google. Now why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you also didn't think to ask me," FRIDAY broke in, making you jump slightly at the unexpected voice all around you. "I could have told you the same, only much faster than Google, of all things."

"That's FRIDAY. Sorry, I forgot to bring her up. It's Tony's car," he explained, shaking his head as he leaned a bit closer to lower his voice, "and she's everywhere. All of the time."

"Yet you still didn't think to ask me for directions."

"Ooh, I like her," you smirked. "She's not here for any of your crap, is she?"

"Guess not. Okay, so either one of you can point the way," Sam gave up, waving towards the road ahead. "So, FRIDAY, what's the forecast looking like for this stuff stopping?"

"Now you need my help?"

"Hey. Don't make me push Stark for a reboot."

"Fine," the A.I. answered very flatly, "it looks as if the storm won't fully pass until late morning tomorrow. I would agree that finding shelter through the night until it clears would be the best solution."

Sam pushed himself back into his seat with a low grumble, still nervously chewing on his lip as if he didn't even realize that he was doing it. His knuckles blanched just slightly under the pressure on the wheel as he inched the car forward again, with the sound of fresh crunching snow under the tires filling the air around you. "Well, (Y/N), I hope you have a few stories to tell to keep us entertained, because I'm out. Otherwise, this could end up being a really long night."

Part 2

Day 2

There was only one open room, of course, and only one bed, because why would the universe be on your side and make this easy? Sam had known you for not even a full day, yet you were already waking up together. Well, not together, per se, as he was a gentleman and chose to sleep on a makeshift bed on the floor so that you could have the restful night that you should have had if he had just been on time and got you to the compound like he was supposed to.

Sam rolled over with a long yawn and a stretch of his body that cracked a little more than he had expected, a few of his tired muscles arguing against him as he moved. "I'm too old for this shit," he mumbled, rolling over to push himself up and only making it about half-way, stopping at a kneel to let his body accommodate to actually being awake. He was trying hard to not wake you, not wanting to be a jerk any more than he already had been, after making you wait so long at the airport that now you were stuck with him in the middle of nowhere rather than in the comforts of the compound that he wanted just as desperately. When he stood up after making sure that he was appropriately covered, he opened his mouth to greet you only to find that you weren't even there.

After a clumsy stumble into the bathroom and possibly accidentally using your toothbrush, which he promptly tried to cover up, Sam heard your voice downstairs and followed the sound to find you. When he stepped through the kitchen door, there was nothing subtle in his arrival; he stubbed his sock-covered toe on the frame, cursing under his breath and hopping into you to try to catch his balance.

"Well, hello, sunshine," you smirked, "so kind of you to finally join us. Have you started drinking already? It's only noon."

"It's noon?!" he barked out, eyes wide. "What the hell do you mean, it's noon?"

"I mean, it's noon."

"Helpful, thanks," he scoffed with a roll of his eyes, "but why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

"Because I figured that sleeping in so peacefully is a rarity for an Avenger, so I didn't want to interrupt. Also, and more importantly, I'm not your mommy."

"Oh, alright, so...that's actually really nice of you."

"Don't sound so shocked, I'm a delight," you snickered, turning back to your original focus. "Sit. Ellie and I made lunch."

"Who's Ellie?"

"Sam, really? This is Ellie," you sighed heavily, completely embarrassed and disappointed in your companion, "the lovely owner of the roof you're staying under." You took a small step to the side to allow her to reach her hand out to Sam, nodding a quick approval for him to take it. "If you think you can be nice, she might even say that you can share the cookies we made for dessert."

"I'm so sorry, ma'am, I didn't meet you when we came in yesterday. My apologies."

"It's quite alright, honey, don't you worry that gorgeous head of yours," she winked subtly, "you still get cookies."

"Thank you," he smiled back, "now, can I help you ladies at all with anything?" Sam released her hand with a small pat over it, watching her return to the assembly line that the two of you had made for putting together sandwiches that he was growing impatient to taste. Even though his mind barely had a chance to wake, his stomach was eager to get the day started.

"No, we're good," she answered for you, before you had the chance. "But if you're looking to keep yourself busy, George could use a hand shoveling up some of that snow out there."

Sam leaned in close to you, lowering his voice to avoid yet another verbal faux pas, "who's George?"

"Are you always this embarrassing? He's her husband."

"Oh! Yeah, totally! I'd love to help! I'll just grab my coat." He turned to leave, but a glance out from the tiny kitchen window over the sink stopped him in his tracks. "Wait, is it still snowing?"

"Sure is," you nodded.

"Then why are we shoveling?"

"George had a heart attack a few years back," Ellie explained softly, "so it's easier for him to do some each day while there isn't so much, instead of waiting until it's done and have to move more all at once."

"Gotcha, I'm on it. Don't you worry, ma'am."

"Sam, hold on," you stopped again before he could go, "now the forecast is saying that it won't be letting up until at least tomorrow afternoon. I got ahold of Steve so he knows we're held up here. He offered to fly in but I told him just to stay there, I hope that was okay."

"Of course it was okay, (Y/N). Hell, with how good it smells in this kitchen right now, I'll stay here forever if I get cookies every day."

"Okay, good, I just wanted to make sure. You can have the bed tonight, though, I'll take the floor. I can't seem to get comfortable on that mattress, it's like lying on a marshmallow."

"Don't tell me," he answered, his expression dropping into confusion, "feels like you're gonna sink right through the floor?"

"Exactly!"

"You know, (Y/N), I'm starting to see a bit more why you and Steve are friends."

~~~

As Sam helped George clear as much of the drive as possible in the snow that just wasn't giving up, you and your sweet hostess set the table for lunch. For as hard as the two men were working, you both suddenly realized that you had greatly underestimated how much you would need, and quickly got back to making more. The two of you stood not too far from the window again so that you could plan for the stampede towards food, but she was strangely silent now for a woman who had been holding most of the conversation before Sam had broken into it earlier.

"You okay?" you asked quietly, giving her a quick glance just to be sure. "You're awfully quiet."

"I was just watching the boys."

"Hmm," you smiled, following her gaze outside, "they do seem to be having fun, don't they? It looks like they've made a new friend out there." With that, you chuckled at the sight of George flinging a full shovel of fluff at Sam, striking him hard enough to knock him back a few steps. "Oh boy, that's not gonna end well."

"Sometimes George forgets how old he really is," she sighed with a frown, "and he forgets that the old ticker has only so many beats left in it. You know something? I used to love the snow. I mean, look at how pretty it is, with the sparkle all over the trees, and how bright and fresh everything is. But now," she paused, looking away and back to her work, "now it's just a reminder that I almost lost him because of it. That was the worst day of my life, (Y/N), and every time it snows now, I wonder if the worst hasn't actually happened yet."

"Wouldn't it be easier to buy a snow plow?"

"Of course it would, but he's stuck in his ways. You know how men are, dear."

"Sure," you nodded, stealthily reaching into your pocket for your phone, quickly typing out a message before dropping it back in, "I've known a few stubborn ones in my life. As soon as I can get out of this storm, I'm gonna be surrounded by them. Might as well find a way to use that to our advantage, right?"

~~~

After a long evening of old board games and endless storytelling with your hosts and your unlikely roommate, you made it to your room and had decided quickly that, yes, the floor was so much better. You had fallen asleep within minutes of your head hitting the pillow, feeling secure on the hard surface that was covered with nothing more than a thick blanket to keep your skin from the coolness of the wood beneath you. You hadn't been through war like Steve and Sam had been, but you had been on your share of missions with SHIELD that left you sleeping on worse than this, and it had just become a new comfort over time. And yes, maybe it was a common bond that you had shared with Steve, but it was never discussed like Sam had thought; it was just a coincidence that the two of you felt the exact same way, which was now shared with your newest Avenger friend.

The idea that maybe Steve was plotting something here began to tumble through your mind as you began to fall asleep. You definitely wouldn't put it past him to be conniving enough to push you and Sam together if he felt like he saw something there, and without consulting either of you about it first. Steve may be one of the most methodical tacticians that you had ever known during your career, but he was also one of the most impulsive people as well.

"Scoot."

"What?" you jolted at the voice in the dark, turning over with a start. "Sam, what the hell?"

"I can't sleep up there either. Move over."

Sam stood over you patiently, his silhouette barely outlined in the dark from the moonlight behind him, making him look almost threatening if you hadn't known better. He slept without a shirt, leaving every curve of his muscles defined and more impressive than you thought they would be, making it hard to not stare too long. "Seriously? There's an entire floor that you can take."

"But you already have it warmed up down here, and you have the nice blanket," he whined. "I promise, we can draw a line that I won't cross."

"Ugh, fine." You scooted yourself over to leave half of the blanket beneath you open, holding the top one up so he could drop his pillow down and climb in. "Holy shit, Wilson, your feet are freezing!"

"Because you have the good blanket, didn't I just say that?"

"There's definitely a plot going on here," you groaned, turning over to face away from him with the dwindling hopes of sleep, "and I'm starting to see a bit more why you and Steve are friends, too."

Part 3

Day 3

The next morning started strangely similar to the one before; one of you had grossly overslept, only this time, it was you. It wasn't that you felt so comfortable that you couldn't wake, or because you were a lazy bum, but rather because you hadn't fallen asleep until Sam woke up a few hours before and took his icicle-like spears for feet away with him. When the sun had become too much of an intrusion for even the heavy drapes to conceal, you rolled yourself over and pushed up to stand, groaning with every strain of your fatigued muscles. When you cleaned up and dressed for the day, you found Sam and Ellie in the kitchen, making lunch for you this time, and despite his jovial mood and bright smile, all it did was fuel your annoyance at your exasperating roommate.

"Sam," you barked, making him jump to attention as you crossed the threshold into the room, "did you use my toothbrush?"

"Um...well..." he shrugged gently, taking a step back.

"Eww! You did!" you hissed with a slight gag in your throat. "Sam, what the hell?!"

"I'm sorry! I was half-asleep!"

"Then maybe you shouldn't brush until you're fully awake!"

"(Y/N), dear, I might have a spare," Ellie interrupted, "just wait here and I'll take a look." The sweet lady pushed her way past Sam and then you on her way down the long hallway towards the back of the house, where you could hear her rummaging around in one of the small closets with a few grumbles under her breath. "Aha!" she announced, with a slam of the door and a quick shuffle in her step back to the kitchen. "Here you go, (Y/N), never opened!"

"Thank you, Ellie, you're a lifesaver."

"Oh, now I don't know about that. I'm just a good shopper with coupons to grab a few extras. You're very welcome."

"Alright, I'm just gonna run back upstairs to actually brush my...teeth..." you paused, furrowing your brow at a new sight as your gaze shifted, "Wilson...are those my socks?"

Sam looked down and lifted up one of his criminally-clad feet, turning it from side-to-side as if he really needed to take a closer look to know that he was guilty. "I guess so, yeah. That okay?"

"I didn't realize that you were comfortable going through my stuff already."

"They were on top of the dresser."

"That may be my fault," Ellie raised her hand tentatively, "I washed your laundry this morning."

"I didn't ask you to do that," you snapped back. You looked back and forth between the two of them, not allowing yourself to be weakened by the shock in their expressions and the apologetic softness in their eyes. It had been only three days now, but you were feeling suffocated and trapped already, knowing that you couldn't escape making it only that much worse. In the living room next door, you could hear the local news on the television saying that it could be at least one more day, if not more, before the snow might stop. It was the final straw on an already breaking back. "Great! That's just fucking great! We're stuck here even longer? Oh my god, I'm going to lose my mind if I have to stay here any longer, I swear! Between you and your frozen feet touching me all night, and the clear lack of personal space around here, I would rather take my chances and walk to the compound than to deal with this." You spun on your heel and turned to leave, hearing poor Ellie's gasp of disbelief; you wanted to turn back and apologize right away, but your temper wasn't letting you. So instead, you thought locking yourself away in your room would be the best for everyone.

That was, until you remembered that you shared a room with one of your targets and he was fast on your heels to chase you there.

"Okay, what in the hell was that?!" Sam stomped through your door before you had the chance to lock him out. His hand slammed against it to push it open, then closed it behind him with the same thunderous effort. "I can't believe how rude you were to her! I can take it, trust me, but she was only being nice and trying to help!"

"I know!"

"So, then what was that?"

"I've never been in prison before, Sam, but I get the feeling that this isn't too far from it. There's no privacy, nowhere to escape to get just one goddamn minute alone! I'm going crazy in here!"

"(Y/N), it's been three days."

"Yeah, and that should tell you how impossible it is to live with you!"

"Oh, so this is my fault?" he snarled, stepping up to you with a fire in his eyes. "It's my fault that the snow won't quit? Or that I have shit circulation in my feet? Or that I accidentally used your toothbrush...or that I have your socks on..." he slowed, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Okay, maybe I can see your point, but you're no ray of sunshine to live with either."

"What the hell have I done?"

"You treat me like I'm an idiot when I make an honest mistake," he began quickly, lifting a hand to count the offenses on each finger, "you kick like an animal in your sleep and oh my god please cut your toenails, and...and..." he struggled, slowing again considerably, "and...you ate the last cookie without asking me if I wanted it!"

"You ate fourteen of them by yourself!"

"That's not the point! If you don't check in before taking the last of something at the compound, they'll torture you for weeks!"

"Then maybe I don't want to be there anymore!"

"And maybe we don't want you there either!"

~~~

From that moment on, for the rest of the day, it was silence. Cold, unbearable, rigid silence that left the entire house feeling as if it were likely warmer outside under the massive drifts of snow that threatened to cover the windows and doors with one more frozen gust of wind. Sam had left you alone in the room with a slam of the door that shook the weathered picture frames on the walls around it, leaving you to yourself and your thoughts that only made you more pissed off.

Steve, do you have a minute to talk?

There was an antique clock resting on the long dresser that you had been since your arrival, it's ticking of every second getting louder with each passing minute as you waited for Steve to text you back. When the answer finally came, you realized that you had no idea what you actually wanted to say.

Do you need me to call?

No, I'm sorry to bother you. Nevermind, I jumped the gun. I'm okay.

It didn't take more than ten seconds after your message should have been received for the phone to ring, and you knew that if you didn't answer fast enough, Steve would find a way to get a jet landed in the hotel's front yard. No amount of snow would be able to stop him.

"Hey, Cap."

"(Y/N), what's going on?"

"It's nothing, really," you tried to reassure gently, "I'm just going a little stir-crazy, that's all. I shouldn't have called, I'm sure you're busy and have more important things going on."

"Well, actually, not as much as you might think," he sighed heavily. "It's been a little slow around here too. I mean, we're not snowed in like you two are, but I have my share of annoyances."

"Stark?"

"Barton."

"Oh, come on," you scoffed, "what could my little bird have done that was so bad?"

"Puh-lease, don't even get me started. That sweet little bird, as you call him, is a devious little shi-"

Steve's voice was quickly cut off by the sound of a shrieking scream, but you weren't immediately sure if it came from his end of the line or yours. "Steve, did you hear that?"

"I was about to ask you. That wasn't here."

"I've gotta go." You abruptly closed the line and tossed the device aside, not caring when you heard him try to stop you, caring even less when it bounced across the mattress and to the floor on the other side with a crack that surely left you without a phone. You also didn't stop to notice or give care to the fact that you didn't have so much as a pair of socks on, in a cruel twist of irony that Sam was wearing them; irony that would put you bounding down the creaking old stairs, risking splinters from the wood as you rushed to his aid once you realized whose voice was again letting out a cry of pain.

"(Y/N)," Ellie panted, meeting you by the front door, but you passed by before she could finish, "Sam was helping George-"

In bare feet, not immediately aware of the blistering cold against them, you hurried at the sight of Sam, kneeling in bloodied snow and gripping his hand. "Sam, what happened?"

"I was...ugh...I was trying to get this old rust bucket of a snow blower started and my...my hand slipped..."

"Here, let me see." Taking his hand from the grip of his other, you deafened yourself to the hiss of pain that escaped his throat. You turned it over to see a large gash that crossed his palm, with blood still dripping from it even under the pressure of your touch. "Come on, we need to get that stitched together."

"You know how to do that?"

"I did some time on security with a SHIELD medic team and I picked up a few things. As long as you don't care how straight your scar's gonna be, and if you don't mind that we only have sewing thread here, then we should be solid. Of course, as long as Ellie has a needle that was made in the last decade or so. That, and I have no way to numb you up first."

"I know that you want to be reassuring," he smirked, even through his pain, "but you're actually making me consider if bleeding out might be a better option."

~~~

Once the sewing was done, and the crying had stopped, the silence between you and Sam seemed to return just as quickly as it had left. The entire evening was uncomfortable enough for your poor hosts to retreat from their own living room just to get away from the two of you. Sam would wince in pain when he bumped his hand, or tried to use it when he knew better, out of pure habit; when you would try to offer aid, it was met with a huff and a wave of dismissal.

Finally, when you couldn't take it anymore, you made the first move to retreat as Ellie and George had, wishing that you could lock Sam out of your shared room, but there wasn't anywhere else for him to stay and you couldn't bring yourself to be quite that cruel. At least not yet.

About an hour later, Sam must have decided that it would be better to sleep than to languish alone in self-pity with no one to hear it, finding himself now standing over you to see you comfortably resting on the floor as he wanted to do so badly. Instead, not willing to push boundaries and definitely not willing to wake you, he crawled into the bed and onto the ridiculously soft mattress, only to push himself up like he had done a million times before, stretching the stitches in his hand just enough to start the bleeding mess all over again.

"Dammit," he hissed, pressing against the wound to stop it, "that's just beautiful."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. Not your problem, go back to sleep."

"Did you pop any of them open?"

"Um, no...I don't think so," he answered hesitantly, "I think I just stretched a few...I don't really want to look."

"I'll look," you sighed heavily, pushing the heavy blankets away to stand. He didn't pull away when you reached out for him like you thought he would have, and he didn't balk when you began to unwrap the bandages that were already turning red. "It looks okay, you're right. I'll just get a new wrap for it, but it has to be pretty tight to hold this together. Get settled, because once you're tucked in, I don't want you moving so this happens again."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Woah, careful, Wilson. I might get used to that. Besides, it took me well over a year to get Steve to that point, so let's not come across as too easy. Like you said, it's only been three days."

"I like to work fast."

"So I've learned. I've never had someone get on my nerves so quickly." Before he could retort, you stepped away and into the hallway, rummaging through one of the small closets until you found the supplies you needed, returning to drop them on the bed at his side, taking a seat next to him so that you could work. "Alright, once this is done, you need to keep it elevated for the night. I'll check on you every few hours to be sure it doesn't start up again."

"You don't need to do that, (Y/N)."

"I know. But I don't want you ruining the straightest stitches I've ever done."

Sam nodded appreciatively, giving the line across his hand one last peek before you covered it again, "you've done a lot of them, then?"

"Nope, not at all," you smiled, "you were my first."

Part 4

"So, who's Riley?"

"Hmm?"

"You talk in your sleep," you clarified. "I heard you say the name a few times last night when I was fending off your cold feet."

Sam couldn't help but smile to himself, knowing that in the darkness of the room around you, you wouldn't likely notice. He had just about fallen asleep now that the thumping pain had abated in his hand and it wasn't the only thing that he could concentrate on. He pushed himself just slightly, taking great care to not put any pressure on his wound, so that he could face you before answering. It was a slight shock to him to see you lying next to him on the bed rather than in your blankets on the floor, but you were fulfilling your word to keep him from making his injury any worse and keeping a very close eye on it. "Again, sorry about the feet."

"It's okay," you shrugged, pushing up on an elbow to better see him, "sorry about the daggers on mine. So?"

"He...uh...he was my wingman," he sighed softly. "58th Pararescue."

The fast shift in Sam's mood wasn't lost on you, feeling the change in the entire room, and you immediately regretted asking him for this. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked-"

"Hey, no, it's okay," he argued with a gentle grin, "I don't mind. It's been a few years, and the searing pain in my chest is more of a dull stab these days. It's getting better."

"How long has that taken for you?"

"Four years or so, now. After that, I had a really hard time finding a reason for being over there, ya know?

"But you're happy now? Back in the world? Avenging?"

"Yeah, I think so," Sam nodded almost eagerly. "If I'm gonna take orders from anyone, I'll take them from Steve Rogers before anyone else, I can tell you that."

"Are you saying that you're not going to be taking them from me?"

"Woah, hold up...do I have to?"

"I think I might still outrank you, Sam, sorry."

"Well, shit." He could only groan and drop himself back onto his pillow, trying to think of how he might talk his way out of this so that the day wouldn't come when you could call out your first order. There had to be some loophole, or some way that Steve would demote you as the newbie when Sam had a few years of Avenging on you by now. When he turned his head to retort, you had gone silent, with a reminiscent look in your eyes as if you were looking through him. "Hey, you okay?"

"Sure," you jolted, blinking away the surprise, "always."

"What's going on?"

"Just thinking...about a friend that I lost, kinda like your Riley."

"Tell me." You were about to decline, but his un-bandaged hand reached out and rested over yours as he rolled back to face you again, making you feel like to not tell him now would be a tremendous mistake; as if the universe would punish you for your silence. "Look, I know that I haven't had the best record with you so far, but you can trust me."

Sam was telling you the truth; you could trust him with anything that you said, and you never once stopped to question it. Yes, your beginnings here were bumpy to say the least, but he was still a good guy at heart; you knew that from the first few minutes together at the airport. You hadn't spoken about your friend since that day, but if Sam was going to be your anchor for the first time the words would find sound, you may as well test him with your worst.

"Steve needed air support," you began with a crack in your already uncertain voice, "on the helicarrier."

"Oh, shit," he mumbled, staring widely with even those few words when he knew exactly where this was going.

"My friend, Jack...he ran out ahead, before I could stop him. I had a plan to get us in the air, but he wasn't listening. He kept pushing in front of me, saying that Cap needed us to move faster, but then..." you faded out, shaking your head to clear the images that were coming that you didn't want to relive, "...then I saw him, and it was too late."

"You saw...who?" Sam whispered shakily, but he knew the answer.

"It was like Jack was nothing," you went on, "the Soldier barely connected his hit, and Jack flew into that jet engine in the flash of a second. He was just...gone. I can't help but think that maybe if I would have tried harder to stop him...pull rank..."

"No," he argued immediately, pushing himself up fully to sit so that he had some stature, "no, (Y/N), you can't do that to yourself, okay? Trust me, I've spent years running those same words through my head, and they never give you an answer. Because there isn't one."

"That's what Steve said. The master of harboring guilt, of all people."

"Steve...right...well, he knows about that better than anyone," he paused, brow furrowed. "So, you know that I have to ask this. The Soldier-"

"Is Bucky," you sighed, looking up with a weak grin, "yeah, I know that too. Steve and I have an...um, an...understanding."

"Which is?"

"I won't kill him if I find him first."

"That's proven really hard to do. Finding and killing."

"Oh, I've had my shot," you smirked, lying back down, to which he followed suit, "but I've learned from it. I have a few tricks that I'd like to try out. Not to kill him...not anymore. Just some light torture and revenge."

"Well, consider me thoroughly terrified." Sam glanced over at you one last time before pulling the blankets up, holding them suggestively as to give you a last chance to bail and move to the floor, but you held your place and he draped them gently over you both. "Remind me to never piss you off. Goodnight, (Y/N). Thank you for patching me up and taking care of me. You didn't have to."

"You're welcome, Sam. Goodnight."

Day 4

Once the two of you had fallen asleep, it was well after midnight; so much so that the sunrise was just a sliver of beginning on the horizon. One thing that you hadn't considered was that the bed was so much warmer than the bundles of blankets that you had gathered on the floor. The house was old, sure, and the cold was likely seeping in through the weathered wood, but the firmness of sleeping down there was comfortable; at least until now, when you were wrapped in soft blankets and overstuffed pillows around you. You were so warm, in fact, that you feared moving so much as an inch so that not a single bit of skin felt a chill.

"Shit!" Sam barked out, making you startle and sit up like a bolt. It was likely the nearly fatal surprise that made you skip notice, but as he hurried out of bed, the two of you had to practically untangle yourselves from each other to do it. "What time is it?"

"Calm down, Sam, it's only ten."

"Oh...oh, okay...right...ten," he gasped, dropping down onto the mattress to sit with a huff, "I thought it was noon again. Do you know the ass beating I would get at the compound if I slept in that late?"

"I can imagine, yes," you yawned, with a long stretch of your arms over your head. "Okay, so what's today's plan?"

"Hold on," he answered. "Do you hear that?"

You turned your head towards the window, hearing a loud scraping sound that grated on your senses with each pass by the window, making you finally just get up to see what was on the other side of the heavy curtains. When you caught sight of it, your heart was swelling for a man that you had yet to actually meet. "He did it," you smiled widely, grabbing Sam's good hand to pull him closer. "Stark did it."

"Did what-"

"I texted Steve a few days ago that George needed a snow plow after Ellie told me about his heart attack. I think that my deranged and desperate call to him yesterday when I was losing my mind sealed it up to get us out of here faster. Sam," you chuckled, giving him a playful squeeze of his hand, "we get to go home!"

~~~

The road was cleared away so quickly that George could do nothing but stand on the porch and stare at how beautifully clean his drive looked, and how he didn't have to lift a finger to do it. Ellie stood behind him, propped against the door frame with a heavy wool shawl covering her thin shoulders to keep herself warm. Sam had taken the bags out to the car, leaving you there with your two hosts, finding yourself feeling sorrow that you were leaving, when only a day before you wanted nothing more than this.

"(Y/N), you have to thank Mr. Stark for me," Ellie began, "this is just too much, but I appreciate it so."

"I will. He said that he was happy to repay you for taking care of us," you agreed. "Just promise me that George is going to use it. No more shoveling."

"Yeah, yeah, I promise," he mumbled as he turned, "so long as you kids come back and visit us now and again."

"We promise," Sam finally joined in, a hand extended for a firm shake before extending it to lead you to the car. "Probably best to wait until this all melts away though and stick to summer visits. New plow or not, never can be too safe."

~~~

With an uneventful drive, at least this time, settling yourself into the compound went much more smoothly than you had expected, after the rocky start that you had with Sam as your first team experience. Steve met you at the door and took your luggage as if it were nothing, giving you a firm buddy slap on the arm before leaving your recent roommate to give you the official tour. You had been there once before, on official SHIELD business, but you had barely stepped off the jet and onto the expansive lawn that day. Now that you were inside the main building, seeing it as your new home, it was almost too much. The overwhelming sense of Stark's genius and his ego hung from every wall and covered nearly every table in either expensive décor or one-of-a-kind tech that was no doubt made from his own imagination.

Tony insisted on throwing you a welcome party, because any excuse for a party was good enough for him, and you seemed worthy of the honor. Of course, it was over-the-top, extravagant, loud, and just plain fun, much as he was turning out to be. He was exactly what you had expected from what Nick had told you of him, but there was a strange sadness to him, too; it would have to be left for another day to take your attention, because there was someone nagging at you to give him every ounce that you had.

"Sam, you could do just as well by throwing yourself on the floor and holding your breath in a fit for how you're trying to get me over here. What's with you?"

"I think we got off to a bad start, you and I," he slurred slightly, a lopsided and warm grin of inebriation curling at his lips. "We should fix that, dontcha think?"

"Why is that?"

"Because you met the wrong Sam. That Sam is an asshole."

"I can fully endorse that statement," Clint coughed into his drink from only a few feet away. Your little bird gave you that mischievous wink that he had become known for with you, turning away before you had the chance to reply. Something in his eyes was telling you that he and Steve had likely been setting this meeting up for some time now, and who were you to let your two best friends down?

"Alright, Wilson, show me what you've got," you relented. "Let's see this other Sam that's been holding out on me."

With an urgency, as if you would change your mind suddenly, Sam slammed his glass down on the table, sloshing the liquid out over the rim and onto the table without a care. His eyes were trained only on you, and his smile dropped; it took only a matter of seconds for the atmosphere to change, and you felt like a marked target. "Oh, we're totally doing this," he nodded, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the middle of the room to dance. He gave you a wide swing, turning you with as much flair as he could pull off without falling over, holding you tightly against him once you met.

"Are we dancing, or are you trying to make me puke?" you asked with a chuckle, but not exactly joking. He was definitely leaving you dizzy, though that might not have been from the turn, but the way he was looking at you.

"Dancing. For now."

"For now?"

"We're just getting started, sweetheart."

On the other side of the room, Steve and Clint stood where you had left them, both nursing their drinks as they watched the two of you with a deep concentration of friends who were far too invested in your business. "You know what, Cap?"

"Hmm?"

"I've never done a set up with you before. Usually Nat is the one running around here trying to get everyone a date. But I think we did good for our first run, don't you?"

"I do," Steve nodded thoughtfully, but as he watched the two of you dance, his mind began to wander and he imagined how the rest of the party might go, then what it would be like for you and Sam to work together after this, a few lines for his best man speech, and how he would convince you to name your first born after him.

"Cap? Did I lose you?"

"What?!" he jolted from his thoughts, nearly spilling his drink down his shirt at the shock. "What? Uh...no, didn't lose me...sorry, just thinking."

"You were working on your best man speech weren't you?" Clint smirked, knowing full well that he was right without a confirmation. "You're such a sap. You did this with the last girl too, and you remember how fantastically that blew up in your face."

Steve straightened his posture and turned to his friend, more assured than ever with a firm slap of his hand on Clint's back that tipped the man from his balance a step. "Nope, not this time, Barton. I can tell. This one will never end, I'd bet my life on it."

"Which one?"

"Which what?" Steve questioned with a crinkle of his nose and furrowed brow as he tried to figure it out. "Wait...which life...oh, okay, I got it. You're hilarious." Setting his drink down with much more finesse than Sam had done, Steve gave the two of you one final look as Sam carefully dipped you back, turning away as if watching any longer would be inappropriate. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Clint, this speech ain't gonna write itself."