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There's nothing but darkness. Suddenly, there's a loud ringing in his ears; his head feels like it's being crushed in and his heart rate picks up. It beats faster and faster, until it begins to tear itself apart before exploding.
“No!” Dennis shouts.
He tries to move, but he's locked in place, panting hard and sweating. He hears the beeping of the machines, feels the lines in his veins and the itchy leads on his skin, and smells the antiseptic scent in the air. Right, he's in the hospital.
“Hey, calm down. It was just a bad dream.”
Dennis feels the warmth of a hand on his and looks up with wide eyes.
“Wilson?” He must be hallucinating.
Sam smiles at him. “The one and only. And I'm tired of telling you: call me Sam.”
He sighs. “Sam, what are you doing here?”
Sam sits back down and Dennis already misses his touch. He takes in the suit he's wearing, the bruises on his face, and the brace on his left arm. What the hell did he miss over the last couple of days?
“I was visiting my partner down the hall. Figured I'd come check in on a friend. How're you feeling?”
“Like shit.” No use lying about it. “But what the hell happened to you?”
Sam scoffs. “A red Hulk.”
“Shit, the pills! I tried to call, but–”
“Yeah, I know. Delgado called me, told me what happened. Good thing he heard you scream.” He looks down with a frown and swallows. “I'm sorry for what happened to you,” looks Dennis in the eye, “you never should have been put in danger trying to do me a favor.”
“Sam,” Dennis says with as much authority as he can muster, “it was the right thing to do. When Captain America needs your help, you step up. Just wish I could've given you the heads up about Ross.”
Sam smiles gratefully at him, but before he can say anything else, a porter comes in with his lunch.
“Here, lemme help.”
Sam fluffs up the pillow behind him a bit before hitting the button that seats the bed forward. Dennis forgot that the top of his gown is untied, and sure hopes Sam didn't catch a glimpse of his bare ass.
Or not. He has kinda wished Sam had seen it for years at this point, but while stuck in a hospital bed is not the occasion for it.
“You need any help to eat?” Sam's hand is on his forearm, and Dennis wants to melt into the touch.
“You're operating with one arm right now, Cap. I think I can manage.”
Sam laughs and squeezes his arm.
“I'll come back to check on you. Take care, Dennis.”
“See ya, Sam.”
Dennis waits until Sam leaves the room to collapse back against his pillow. He's so exhausted he could cry. A nurse walks in with a disinterested expression.
“Do you need help, sir?”
Dennis swallows his pride.
“Yeah, actually. “
She nods and Dennis wishes he were anywhere but here.
And so goes the rest of his hospital stay.
Everyday, Sam visits Joaquín and then Dennis. He always has a warm smile and a joke, and Dennis is glad for the company. Members of his team have stopped by, but Sam is who Dennis always looks forward to seeing.
Yesterday, Sam brought his lunch with him, and when the nurses weren't looking, he snuck Dennis some of his spicy half smoke. He almost choked trying not to laugh, and when a dribble of chili escaped his lips, Sam reached out and wiped it away with his thumb.
And it shouldn't be a big deal, but Dennis has been crushing on Sam for years . Most people don't know, but he first met Sam when he and Riley had to rescue Dennis and some of his team during a mission in Afghanistan. He was a new SEAL at the time, embarrassed about getting caught behind enemy lines, and shot in the leg. But then an angel came down, patched him up, and took him to safety.
Dennis kept tabs on Sam during his time as the Falcon, and was saddened to hear that he was among the disappeared. But, God, seeing that footage of him taking on the mantle of Captain America almost brought him to tears. There was no one better for the job.
And it felt like a gift, getting to reconnect and occasionally work with him over the last couple of years. It never felt like a good time to pursue anything, so he's kept his feelings to himself. But, what he wouldn't give for a sign that he was even an option for Sam.
He'll take being friends with him, though, if it means he gets to hang around.
Today is his last day before moving to an in-patient rehab facility. The nurse is changing the bandage over his surgical incision when he catches a glimpse of Sam by the doorway. He knows it looks strange, like some sort of reverse Brazilian wax, his body missing a strip of hair down the middle, with the prominent, barely-healed incision site.
When Sam comes into the room after, he can't help but joke.
“That's an interesting look,” he gestures with his chin.
Dennis looks down with a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, beach day will have to wait.”
Sam smiles, but Dennis notices that he doesn't immediately peel his eyes away from Dennis’ exposed upper body. If he had the energy, he would've tried to flex his muscles. But, he plays it cool instead; lets Sam get his fill.
“So, I have a proposal for you,” Sam says as he takes a seat. “But, I'm not sure if you'll go for it.”
“Well, you've definitely got my attention.”
Sam smiles. “I know how restless soldiers can get during their recovery, being away from their team and routine. I assume the brass wants you to sit still until you recover?”
Dennis nods.
“Well, what if you come and help me out then? Jay still has his own recovery, and I know you've got some brains underneath all that brawn. What do you say?”
“What exactly would I be doing?”
“Answering the Cap Hotlines, civilian and intelligence. Help with surveillance and logistics. Buy my coffee. Keep me company,” he shrugs.
Dennis smirks. “You want me to be your secretary? Are we gonna have to sit through one of those harassment seminars first?”
“Administrative assistant. And I have a few other people I could ask instead. Just trying to throw you a line here. Point is, it's not physically demanding and never boring.”
Dennis mulls it over for a moment.
“Alright, yeah. As long as there are no hiccups during this initial rehab, I'm in.”
Sam grins and holds out his fist for a bump.
“Welcome to Team Cap.”
The three weeks in rehab are absolute torture.
Not because of the daily routine. Dennis knows he needs his meds, daily walks, physical therapy, and constant supervision. He feels a little less exhausted day by day. His angry, red scar itches like crazy, and he's still getting used to it in his reflection.
No, it's a torture because he hasn't seen Sam. Some shit went down on the West Coast, and even though his arm was still healing, Sam went out to help. Yet, Dennis is here dying of anticipation. It's just a little crush, but he wonders how he'll keep it under wraps when he's around Sam all day, everyday.
An old friend of his agreed to let him stay at his place in DC while he's working overseas. He knows Sam would probably let him crash with him, but he doesn't want to ask for any favors. There's a park nearby, which will be perfect for his required daily walks, and a grocery chain a few blocks away, but he'll order online. He's not allowed to drive until at least six weeks after the surgery, so he's going to have to figure out transportation for a couple weeks.
Delgado brought him some of his clothes and toiletries from his place in Norfolk, and all of that will go with him to the apartment in DC. He almost feels like he should just buy new clothes at this point. No v-necks or henleys anymore. Or, at least until he's comfortable with the scar. Good thing he can get a pack of t-shirts for a reasonable price.
He's pulling up the app to order a ride, when an orderly pops his head in to tell him that his ride is here. Dennis is understandably confused; he hasn't ordered a ride yet. He picks up his duffle bag from the bed, and walks down the hall.
Standing at the front desk, chatting with the nurse, is Sam. Of course.
He glances up at Dennis with a bright smile and says goodbye to the nurse.
“My new assistant ready to get outta here?”
“Definitely,” he answers with a smile, can't help it.
Sam gestures for him to pass the duffle bag over, and he wants to object, but, hey, why not? It's been a while since any chivalry has been directed at him. Sam pulls the strap over his shoulder and leads the way to the exit.
They stop in the parking lot in front of a brand new GMC Sierra, the black paint gleaming in the sun.
“Another new truck? You traded in the Hummer already?”
Sam shrugs. “It got shot to shit; you saw it at the base.”
“Wow. Your premiums must be through the roof with all the superhero hazards. You've already lost two cars.”
“Oh, that wasn’t the first time I lost a car! Beginning to think I shouldn't drive around here anymore.”
Sam opens the passenger door for Dennis to get in, and hovers, just in case he needs help. Then he throws the duffle on the backseat before climbing into the driver's seat.
“Alright, where to?”
Dennis gives him the address to the apartment in Glover Park.
The drive is quiet, but comfortable. Old school R&B plays softly on the radio, while the A/C blasts. Dennis leans into the headrest, and tries (unsuccessfully) to keep his eyes on the road and not on Sam. He keeps chewing on his left thumb nail, and Dennis is trying really hard not to think about Sam's mouth. Or the way the muscles in his right arm pop with the way he holds the steering wheel. Hell, just the way he grips the steering wheel. How does he make hands look sexy?
Maybe he should focus on the weird feeling in his chest. Is it his heart? His nerves? The seatbelt? He groans at how immature he feels, and Sam looks over.
“You ok?” Sam asks, looking over the top of his aviators.
“Yeah,” and he can feel a blush rising, so he turns to face the window.
They find a parking spot across the street from the building. The walk up the stairs is leisurely; Dennis barely loses his breath. He opens the fire extinguisher case in the hallway by the apartment door and retrieves the spare key from its hiding place.
The apartment is sparkling clean because the cleaning company came in the day before. Sam wanders around and finds the bedroom. He leaves the duffle on the bed and goes back out to the kitchen where Dennis takes stock of what dry goods can be eaten and what groceries he needs to order.
“This is a nice place. Whose is it again?”
“Uh, my friend, Chris.”
Sam stares at him for a second. “Chris? As in your ex, Chris?”
“Yeah. He's in London until later this year. He had it listed on a hosting site but took it down for me.”
Dennis doesn't know what to make of the look on Sam's face, except that maybe he wants to take back what he said about the apartment being nice. But, Sam smiles politely.
“OK, well, I can come pick you up in the morning around eight. You want me to go pick-up any food, or are you ok to order?”
“Nah, I'm good. Thanks, again, for the ride. And for the busy work.”
“No problem, man. What are friends for? I'll see you in the morning.”
Sam leaves him with a pat on the back, and one last glance around the apartment like it personally offended him.
Dennis puts in a grocery order and an order for some pad Thai from nearby.
He's fast asleep on the couch before he even knows it.
Dennis wakes up at five in the morning. He's grateful for the abundance of pillows that helped prop him up overnight. He drags himself to the bathroom and borrows some of Chris' workout gear, and tries not to think about it too hard. They were in love, things ended amicably, and Chris got to keep the dog. End of story.
Except, there's a framed photo of Lockjaw on the nightstand, and Dennis feels a pang in his heart over the deceased dog. Ugliest bulldog he'd ever seen, but he was an absolute sweetheart with a heart of gold.
He slowly makes his way downstairs and over to the park. Dennis reminds himself that he's not in training right now; he's in recovery. The pace is slow but consistent, and he only does half an hour, because he plans to do another half hour in the evening.
Dennis feels winded by the time he makes it back upstairs, and has to rest on the couch for a few minutes. When he feels up to it, he makes himself a protein smoothie with plenty of frozen fruit. He listens to the sound of the neighborhood waking up and turns on the news, which instantly annoys him, so he turns the channel to ESPN instead.
It's been a month since his surgery and he can finally shower again. He revels in the feeling of the water washing over him, lets it run until the water turns cold. He's not sure what to do with his hair. Should he brush it back to look professional or just let the curls hang loose? What would Sam prefer, what does he expect? Should he get a damn grip and go get dressed?
He combs a little bit of Chris’ gel through his hair with his fingers, applies some of his scar cream and deodorant, and goes in search of something to wear. He settles on a gray t-shirt with his pair of reliable blue jeans. No more spending his days in sweatpants. Unfortunately.
He's putting his boots by the door, when he hears the buzzer. He checks his watch; if it's Sam, he's almost forty-five minutes early.
“Hello?” he says into the intercom.
“Morning, sunshine. I brought breakfast,” Sam answers back.
“Oh, uh,” and he buzzes him in.
He lets Sam in when he knocks on the door, and considers this arrangement the best thing to ever happen to him. Sam walks in with a pastry box and a cup holder with two coffees. From the smell alone, Dennis knows what's in the box.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“For my friend from the Motor City. I had to do some digging for a bakery that made these year-round,” Sam says, handing him the box.
Dennis opens the box to find six perfect raspberry pączki , the Polish doughnut that reminds him of his hometown.
“I already ate,” Dennis says as he takes one out. He bites into it and almost moans at the sweetness of the filling and powdered sugar.
“Need something to wash that down?” Sam hands him one of the cups. “Decaf.”
Dennis takes a sip of the coffee and exhales. “Why are you so good to me, Sammy?”
Sam laughs and takes off his jacket. Dennis returns his attention to his doughnut, rather than stare at Sam as he pulls one out for himself. He bites into it, and it leaves him a mustache of powdered sugar, and a smudge of jelly on the corner of his lip. And Dennis almost bites his tongue; licks off his own lips instead.
“Hmm, not bad,” Sam says as he chews.
They stand at the kitchen counter, each taking a second doughnut and sipping their coffee. Dennis wants to start everyday like this.
“So, I figure I won't hold you hostage for the entire day. I'll show you around the office and what I'll need you to do. Hopefully, you'll be up to it.”
“Sam, I already agreed to help. Promise I won't back out.”
“Yeah, well, I've heard that before,” and Sam glances away with a small frown.
“And I'm a man of my word.”
Dennis takes another bite, but a glob of the raspberry jelly drops onto his t-shirt.
“Ah, jeez,” and without thinking, he stuffs the rest of the doughnut in his mouth and pulls the shirt off over his head. “I'll be right back.”
While digging through his bag for another clean shirt, it dawns on him that he probably shouldn't go around undressing in front of his temporary boss. And then his mind drifts to being asked by said boss to undress, and now he takes back what he said about this whole arrangement.
This is going to be a complete disaster.
It's not a total disaster.
Dennis turns out to be pretty good at this.
Coordinating the Cap line from the intelligence community is the easiest for him. It's an encrypted cell phone that rings more than he likes, but he has gotten good at triaging what situations should stay strictly military, which should go to local law enforcement, and what definitely falls under the superhero domain.
If innocent people are at risk, Sam is willing to hear them out, regardless. If the government is trying to pull some shit, Sam will give his opinion, even if they don't ask. But aliens, rogue experimentation, and the supernatural are non-negotiable. Although, some magical nonsense can go directly to Dr. Strange.
He's trained in surveillance and is pretty tech savvy, so when Sam does go out on a mission, he gets to be the guy-in-the-chair. He wishes he could be there in person as backup, but he's not cleared for action yet. But, he can make sure Sam has the support he needs.
The civilian line is a little more complicated for him. Dennis wants to respond to every request with “just contact your alderman or representative,” but that's not how Sam operates. Sam is willing to throw his weight behind good causes. So if the local civil services won't do their job, Sam will shine a spotlight on the issue and help apply public pressure until it's resolved. He'll bring awareness to book or food drives, always willing to volunteer or encourage others to do so.
Dennis has been in the military for so long, he thinks he forgot how to connect with the average civilian. So this has been a good learning experience for him.
He'll never forget one call in particular. One night, he answered a call and was confused to hear a child's voice on the other end. It was a little girl in the second grade, who got badly injured in a car accident and had to use a wheelchair now. The kids in her class were cruel about it, and she said it made her cry everyday, so she didn't want to go to school anymore. She wanted to know if Captain America could help her. Without hesitation, Dennis asked for her name and the name of her school.
He then called an artist friend of his back home, and commissioned a pair of attachments, like solid rims, for the chair's wheels. When the box arrived at the office, he was beyond excited to see the final product: one attachment was a replica of the shield, and the other had a rendition of Sam's wings. He asked Sam to autograph both and explained who they were for. The absolute joy on Sam's face was only rivaled by little Tanya's smile when the two of them delivered the package to her school. Everyone was still gathered excitedly around her and her upgraded wheelchair when they made their departure.
Seeing the impact Sam has on others, no matter how seemingly small, broke something in Dennis. Or rather, it reawakened something that his life forced him to bury.
Outside of the actual work, Dennis finds he likes the people in Sam's life that he encounters at the office.
Joaquín, he already knows. A few days into this gig, he showed up to make sure Dennis didn't “break” any of his equipment. He painstakingly looked over every inch of his desk and the cupboard where he hoards his snacks. He was not happy that his strawberry Pocky sticks were missing, but he conceded that Dennis at least hadn't broken anything. Yet. He stuck around for a couple hours to provide color commentary on everything Dennis did incorrectly– meaning anything done differently.
He's a good guy; lots of energy, and matches Sam snark for snark. But both Sam and Dennis can tell he misses being there. His skin graft surgeries are incremental, and it feels like he's in recovery indefinitely. He comes in when he can, though. (Dennis suspects that is partly because he's trying to escape his hovering mother, who's been in town since his first surgery.)
There's the time Colonel Rhodes dropped in. Turns out he was the one who called in the favor to secure this office space for Sam. He's intimidating in his own way, but his charm is undeniable. They get a call on the hotline while he's there, and next thing Dennis knows, he's providing support for both Cap and Iron Patriot to investigate someone in Pennsylvania trying to recreate Stark's arc reactor with disastrous results.
Agent Taylor– Leila– drops in once in a while. Dennis was surprised to learn that she and Sam were exes. Not that they don't make a good match, but how did they both fumble each other? She's soft-spoken, but with an air of authority, and Dennis tends to find himself seated with her on the couch, just chatting away, and Sam always heckles him from his desk and instructs him to get back to work. She's adjusting to working with the new administration, and that's a type of stress that Dennis can't even imagine– working in the beast’s den like that.
Isaiah Bradley's grandson, Eli, came in at the beginning of summer offering to be Sam's intern, said it would look good on his transcripts. Sam claimed he already had a summer intern, but allowed him to handle the civilian line a couple days a week. He's a bright kid who's gonna do big things someday, Dennis can just tell. But the way he's not afraid to give Sam shit just delights Dennis to the core. He likes to pretend, but Dennis can tell he does want Sam's approval.
Now, that Sharon Carter is terrifying. She smiles with her mouth, but her eyes bore into the soul. She's sarcastic and unfriendly in the best ways, and Dennis knows that any word said in her presence will be stored in a mental data bank to be used against you later. He's not sure what she sees in the way he and Sam interact, but the predatory smile she sends his way makes his hair stand on edge. But, Sam trusts her, respects her, so he feels like he needs to keep an open mind.
The only person he doesn't get along with is Bucky Barnes. He only worked one mission where Dennis’ team was also involved before he retired from the superhero business, but he did not take kindly to Dennis. At first, it bummed Dennis out to think that the best friend of two Captains America didn't like him, but you can't please everyone. When Barnes does visit, he finds a way to get Sam out of the office. Lunch, dinner, happy hour; whatever it is, he makes sure Dennis gets left behind.
But Dennis thinks he understands. He's not blind; he sees the way Barnes smiles for Sam and no one else. He sees the way he gravitates to him physically: shoulders bumping, a hand on Sam's back, no concept of personal space on the very large sectional couch. It makes Dennis question if he's not being as subtle as he thought.
None of this matters, though. Dennis’ favorite part of the job is the time he gets to spend with Sam.
They do share breakfast at the apartment sometimes like that first day, usually when Sam picks him up instead of taking the bus. Otherwise, they'll eat together at the office. Dennis likes making the egg white omelets with spinach and mushrooms on croissants from the bakery down the block. He has to eat healthy for his recovery, but it doesn't mean he can't enlist Sam, too.
At the office, when it's just the two of them, Dennis finds ways to stay in Sam's orbit. If Sam's at his desk, Dennis will just roll his chair over and keep him company. He loves to put his feet up on the desk so that Sam will shove them off. Anything to enjoy the quick contact. He also finds himself doing a lot of unnecessary leaning; at his desk, in the doorway, even against Sam's truck. The goal is to bring Sam's attention to his frame. And he appreciates crowding Sam's space, especially since he doesn't shy away from Dennis when he does it. Barnes was definitely onto something.
But, they also just hangout and watch TV on the weekends, or go to Nats games, or grab dinner together.
It's been three months since his surgery and he feels like his old self more and more everyday. His energy is back, his appetite is back, and his libido is keeping him up at night. The surgical scar is like any other on his body: a sign of his survival. And he thinks it's time to stop hiding how he feels about Sam.
Today, he gets back from his morning walk and hits the shower. He puts on a crisp white t-shirt and jeans, because he knows how good he looks in something so simple. No product in his hair, though; he catches Sam stealing glances at him more when the curls hang over his forehead. He’ll get a haircut when he returns to base in a couple days.
He detours from the bus stop to a bakery he found online that sells beignets and bread pudding. His order is ready for him, and he rushes to the office. Sam arrives at the same time as him.
“D-Man! Is my favorite summer intern ready for his last day?”
“Nope, but I come bearing gifts,” he lifts the box in his hands.
Sam unlocks the door and lets Dennis in first. He heads over to the Keurig to make them coffee, and watches as Sam opens the pastry box. It reminds him of his first day and it hurts a little.
“Oh,” Sam grins bright, “what a way to start the day! You take such good care of me, D.”
Sam closes his eyes as he bites into a beignet and hums in approval.
“Happy to do it, Sammy,” he says softly.
Dennis pushes Sam's coffee toward him and silently sips his own. They stand there, in companionable silence, finishing their breakfast. He wants to say something, but doesn't know what to say.
Sam clears his throat. “So, I was thinking: maybe I could treat you to dinner today or tomorrow, to say thanks? Unless you already have plans or need to finish packing.”
“Yeah, no, that would be great. Although, you really don't have to.”
“I want to.” He bumps Dennis with his shoulder. “Alright, now let's get to work.”
Dennis smiles down into his coffee mug before he drains it and heads to his desk.
He follows up on a few media requests, while Sam follows up on some surveillance. They both want to finish any outstanding work before he leaves for the day.
Unfortunately, Sam has a lunch interview with a certain weekly magazine, so they don't get to spend one last lunch together. Dennis is left with an empty feeling. Like he had all this time to say something, but he didn't, and now their time is up. He'll never get to spend this kind of time with Sam again.
After Sam leaves for lunch, Dennis feels a headache brewing. He takes some Tylenol and drinks half a bottle of water. He shuts off the office lights and curls up on the couch. It's only a matter of minutes before he falls asleep.
It's dark again. The vice grip on his heart grows tighter and tighter, but he doesn't scream this time. He wakes with a start and doesn't know where he is for a moment. The ceiling lights are still out, but there's a corner lamp turned on; his computer is off, but Sam's is lit up. His head is cushioned on something warm, and there's a light weight in his hair.
He turns his head to look up, and swears he must still be dreaming. Because his head is pillowed in Sam's lap, and Sam's hand is in his hair. Sam looks away from his phone and smiles at him. He stares back.
If this is a dream, he doesn't want to wake up. He looks at the curl of Sam's lashes and admires those cheekbones from that angle. He reaches a hand up to tangle his fingers with Sam's in his hair. His whole body shivers at the contact.
“You ok, sleepyhead?”
Dennis startles and sits up.
So, not a dream.
“Shit, sorry. What time is it?” He squints at his watch.
“Just after five,” Sam replies with a perplexed look. “Are you ok? You were passed out when I got back.”
Dennis groans and rubs his face. “You let me sleep for four hours?!”
Sam shrugs. “Seemed like you needed it.”
Dennis collapses against the couch and sighs. Sam leans back and watches him silently.
“I'm OK, Sammy. It was just a headache.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Sorry for flaking out on my last day.”
“You waited until the end to flake out. I can forgive that.”
Sam bumps him with his shoulder, but doesn't move away; he continues to watch Dennis. It's like Sam knows he wants to say more. But he can't seem to find any words.
“Seriously, thanks for having my back. I'm gonna miss getting to boss you around.”
Dennis swallows hard. God, he'd do anything Sam asked him to do– the bossier the better, believe him.
“Happy to help,” he says quietly. “It's been my honor, Sam.”
“How do you wanna celebrate?” he asks just as quietly.
And Sam's fucking with him, right? There's no way he's seriously staring into Dennis’ eyes and asking him how he wants to bid farewell.
Dennis’ hand twitches in its spot on the couch next to Sam's hand. He frowns and wills himself not to reach out and hold his hand.
Apparently, Sam has other plans.
He laces his fingers with Dennis’ and gives his hand a squeeze.
“Dennis,” he says leaning in, “what do you want?”
And Dennis can't take another second of this.
He sits up in his seat, tips Sam's chin, and kisses him. He doesn't waste time going for slow or chaste; he slips his tongue in and sets about to devour him. His hand grasps the back of Sam's neck firmly, positioning him where he wants. Sam moans and the sound hits Dennis below the belt. He hauls Sam into his lap, and even in the low light, Sam's hungry expression is unmistakable.
Sam holds Dennis’ face and gets back to business. Dennis settles his hands on Sam's hips and pulls his weight down on him, bucking up at the same time. They both groan at the movement, and Sam pulls back.
“Wait,” he says breathlessly. “Not here– can we hit pause? Wait until we get back to my place?”
Dennis nods shakily, leans in for one last kiss.
They turn off the computers and lights, and lock up in record time. The Beltway traffic dampens some of their heat, but none of their anticipation. They hold hands the entire ride, and Dennis can't help but occasionally lift their hands to kiss and nip Sam's knuckles. His knee bounces the whole way there. They race up the steps and slam the door shut.
Sam sits on the edge of the bed and rolls his hips like he's on a mission, and Dennis has never been so happy to almost choke. He spills down his throat, and hisses at the sensitivity when Dennis doesn't immediately pull off.
Dennis rests his head on Sam's thigh to catch his breath. Sam runs his hand through Dennis’ hair, and Dennis bites down on the firm muscle, follows it with a soothing swipe of his tongue.
“Fuck, baby, that felt good.”
Dennis kisses Sam's belly.
“I do aim to please,” he rasps.
Sam pulls him into a kiss.
They crawl into the bed and Dennis rests his head on Sam's chest.
“So, exit interview question: how satisfied are you with the time you spent working for Captain America?”
Dennis laughs. “Eleven out of ten.”
“Only eleven? Ouch.”
They both shake with silent laughter.
“Listen, I hope you don't think that I was trying to take advantage of you. I really do appreciate everything you did. I wanted to wait until your time at the office was finished before anything happened. I didn't want to be that guy.”
“Sam, seriously, I was glad to be of use. You were right: I would've lost my mind if I had to recover at home. And getting to be around you everyday– do you know how hard it was to hide my crush?” Sam snorts. “What?”
“Oh, you weren't subtle. Never have been.”
Dennis lets out an exaggerated gasp. “You mean you knew this whole time? And just let me make a fool of myself?”
Sam looks at him with a regretful smile.
“It was never the right time. And, recently, you needed to get back to your full health.”
“Hmm. Are you worried about my fullness, Sammy?”
Dennis kisses him beneath the jaw and rubs his growing arousal against him. Sam sighs happily and pulls Dennis into a kiss. This time, they do go slow; each press of their lips and slide of their tongues a question and answer, a conversation in desire and adoration.
And later, when Dennis is buried to the hilt in Sam, each thrust and roll of the hips, the same conversation.
I want you.
I need you.
I love you.
One year later
Dennis makes the most of his time on leave by staying glued to his boyfriend's side. He hoped and wished that nothing would interrupt their brief interlude, and so far so good.
They're curled up in bed, Sam's arm wrapped around Dennis’ waist, and listening to the world around them rise with the sun. They have nowhere to be, and nothing to do today, and couldn't be happier.
Naturally, a cell phone rings.
They frown at each other, not recognizing the ringtone. Neither Sam's personal cell nor the Cap phone is the culprit. It's not Dennis’ cell either. It continues to ring and Sam is ready to have Redwing locate the thing, when they find the cell in a hatch under the nightstand.
The screen reads Unknown and Sam hits the answer option.
“Who is this?”
“Wilson, you took your damn time.”
“Fury?”
“Listen, we don't have much time. I received a message from Captain Rambeau from the other side. She said something bad's coming and we better prepare. Time to call up your team, Cap.”
“Copy that.”
Their easy day is going to have to wait. They have a world to save.
THE END