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Sundays were always your favorite. It was the one day the complex was completely quiet. Tony was usually in the city with Pepper, sometimes bringing Bruce along with him. Clint and Nat usually went to the farm to see Laura and the kids. Even Steve took it easy on Sundays: he and Bucky could often be found just reading in the common area, while Wanda and Vision were off doing… well, you didn’t want to know.
You always took advantage of it by treating yourself to a nice long bath, and then hiding in your room all day. Reading, drawing, listening to music… it varied from week to week, but it was always a day for you to do whatever you enjoyed. And a day for you to be alone.
So, when a knock on your door at 11am woke you from your mid-morning nap, you were understandably annoyed.
Groaning, you pull yourself out of bed, hoping that whatever it is that has someone bothering you is not something that requires putting on pants. Sporting a glare you usually reserved for enemies on missions, you fling open the door with a huff.
Your face softens when you see your best friend standing in front of you, a healthy dose of fear on his face.
“Jesus, Y/N, put some pants on!” he exclaims, making a show of covering his eyes.
Raising your hand above your head, you give him the finger as you walk back into your room and flop back down on your bed.
“This had better be good, Sammy boy,” you mutter as drag your pillow over your face.
Two warm hands are suddenly under your armpits and you’re being pulled out of bed, yelping in surprise. “Wilson. Put. Me. Down!” you squeal, kicking your legs as you wiggle out of his grasp.
“No, really, put some pants on. We have a major issue,” he says, tone completely serious. This can only mean one thing: a mission. A switch in your brain flips, and you immediately go for your suit.
“Hydra again?” you question, rummaging for your boots as well.
“Worse.”
You freeze, then turn around slowly. What could be worse?
He takes two steps towards you, and rests his hands on your shoulders. Gazing at you seriously, he takes a deep breath.
“Y/N, I need your help. Redwing is missing.”
You blink once, twice, three times. The corners of your mouth start to twitch. Your eyes begin to crinkle. And then you just can’t hold back any longer, the laughter bubbling out of you. You double over, then fall on the floor, unable to keep yourself upright.
“Damnit Y/L/N this is serious!” he whines, bouncing his shoulders like a toddler getting ready to throw a tantrum.
You wipe the tears from your eyes, grabbing one of Sam’s arms to pull yourself to your feet. “Sam. You come in here, all serious, telling me to put pants on. On a Sunday, no less. Now, I’m thinking there’s a mission, a major threat, and you tell me a drone that is basically your pet parrot is missing.”
“Well, when you put it like that…” he grumbles, rolling his eyes.
Grabbing the nearest pair of sweatpants and flip flops, you pull them on. Kissing his cheek with a smile, you grab his hand. “Come on Sam, let’s go find your birdie,” you proclaim cheerfully as you lead him into the hallway.
For once, Sam Wilson is at a loss for words. And he’s glad as hell you weren’t anywhere near his face, because if you were he was sure you could feel the heat radiating off of it from a foot away.
You still didn’t understand how someone could lose a drone. Especially one that literally attached to your gear. But, if it was going to happen, it would be Sam Wilson who lost it.
You’d been searching for hours, and had looked in every nook and cranny of the compound. But Redwing was nowhere to be seen. Sighing, you both collapse on the couch, needing a break.
“I just don’t understand, Y/N,” Sam gripes as he massaged your legs, which are thrown over his lap. “Where could he be? It’s not like he can fly around by himself or anything…”
Sam drifted off, wracking his brain to no avail. Tony would kill him if Redwing was gone… and he really didn’t want to get an earful from him.
As he re-hashes the day, Sam finds himself smiling. Even if Redwing was gone and he got a tongue lashing, he’d actually had a great time with you. Hell, he always did. He was hopelessly in love with you. But damn it, every time he was around you his smooth talking exterior decided to go on vacation, and he couldn’t even work up the courage to ask you out.
He’s startled out of his thoughts by you jerking upright, mouth open in surprise. “Samuel Thomas Wilson. You and I are the modern day Romeo and Juliet.”
His heart skips a beat. This could be his chance. “Awww. Why?” he asks in what he hopes is a flirtatious voice. “Is it because we’re destined to be together?”
You roll your eyes, hopping to your feet. “No, Wilson, it’s because we’re the two biggest idiots I know.”
He follows you as you jog outside, then hang a left. To the tree by your window. And suddenly, he remembers. He remembers the scary movie he forced you to watch two days ago. He remembers that you couldn’t sleep, and came to his room at 2am, scolding him for making you watch it. He remembers that he programmed Redwing to guard your window, hovering outside of it, and told you the cannons were active (even though they weren’t). He remembers how he wished he was brave enough to ask if you wanted to stay with him instead, but chickened out.
As you let out an excited whoop, bouncing in excitement, looking like an absolute angel, he decides to make his move. No, you wouldn’t be Romeo and Juliet. There was no happy ending there. You’d be Sam and Y/N, and your love story was gonna be the greatest one yet.