[ that's a bit the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it? because alright, sam's not the type to downplay his own worth. he's done too much self-inspired therapy to know how dangerous that is for your own self-worth and mental health, but if they wanted to get technical here - steve was the special one. a man lost to time, a super human asleep in the ice. a soldier, home from war, given very little if anything at all in terms of help with adjusting.
sam had his issues with the armed forces, with the way the government treated the people they created and molded and left out to dry. whether it's the air force, the army, shield - it's all the same. all systems not built for the care and support that they promise to provide. sam knows what it feels like to find someone who you would risk your everything for, just to protect, and the bond built when you know they would do the same - but steve rogers doesn't just need another soldier, but someone to remind him of...well. what? that there's something worth coming back to? that he's more than just the serum in his veins? sam is working out exactly what he's meant to be, here, but for now there's no question that he wants to be here to do just that.
plus the fancy planes? he could get used to travel, like this. (and maybe even used to naps, here, on soft shoulders and warm bodies, but that's something else entirely)
as he sits up, snorting once at steve's comments - he likes those moments, when steve gives back as much as he gets. it's half the reason sam knows he can joke with him, when he can see steve rise to meet him. to joke in turn. the smiles and laughs he can drag out of steve are the better moments, between them, and he knows they have enough battles under their belt to not worry about how in sync they can be when they want to. ]
Too late. [ sam stretches, pulling away just enough that he doesn't clock steve across the face as he does it. sam's eyes go to the sketchbook on the table. steve's drawing had been something of a surprise to sam, though he supposes it shouldn't have. whether or not captain america was good at art hadn't been in all the propaganda exhibit he'd gone to, but then again - this is steve, the brief glimpses sam likes to hold for himself.
his eyes catch the falcon, the wings spread across the paper, and sam feels himself smile a bit at the image, before he's turning back to steve with an incredulous look. ] First off- I don't snore. Natasha snores. Second, that would leave you bored and restless and we all know how dangerous that can get. [ it's said casually, though sam wonders if the familiarity is too soon. he decides to keep going with it, settling back into the cushions of the chair. thank you tony stark. ]
i will always be happy to be bothered by you
sam had his issues with the armed forces, with the way the government treated the people they created and molded and left out to dry. whether it's the air force, the army, shield - it's all the same. all systems not built for the care and support that they promise to provide. sam knows what it feels like to find someone who you would risk your everything for, just to protect, and the bond built when you know they would do the same - but steve rogers doesn't just need another soldier, but someone to remind him of...well. what? that there's something worth coming back to? that he's more than just the serum in his veins? sam is working out exactly what he's meant to be, here, but for now there's no question that he wants to be here to do just that.
plus the fancy planes? he could get used to travel, like this. (and maybe even used to naps, here, on soft shoulders and warm bodies, but that's something else entirely)
as he sits up, snorting once at steve's comments - he likes those moments, when steve gives back as much as he gets. it's half the reason sam knows he can joke with him, when he can see steve rise to meet him. to joke in turn. the smiles and laughs he can drag out of steve are the better moments, between them, and he knows they have enough battles under their belt to not worry about how in sync they can be when they want to. ]
Too late. [ sam stretches, pulling away just enough that he doesn't clock steve across the face as he does it. sam's eyes go to the sketchbook on the table. steve's drawing had been something of a surprise to sam, though he supposes it shouldn't have. whether or not captain america was good at art hadn't been in all the propaganda exhibit he'd gone to, but then again - this is steve, the brief glimpses sam likes to hold for himself.
his eyes catch the falcon, the wings spread across the paper, and sam feels himself smile a bit at the image, before he's turning back to steve with an incredulous look. ] First off- I don't snore. Natasha snores. Second, that would leave you bored and restless and we all know how dangerous that can get. [ it's said casually, though sam wonders if the familiarity is too soon. he decides to keep going with it, settling back into the cushions of the chair. thank you tony stark. ]
So what's the plan once we touch down?