sam can only see you through redwing's eyes, on your knees by a pile of alleyway garbage, sadly calling his name. he doesn't know what's going on, and that sends him rocketing toward your location.
after his wings retract and he jogs toward you, he's scared out of his mind at the tears streaming down your cheeks. "sammy." you show him your cupped hands. "it's so little."
"shit."
it's a kitten. impossibly small and soaked from the rain, and dirty enough that he can't tell what color it's supposed to be.
his wings unfurl and guard the three of you from the downpour.
"it's shaking," you whisper, like you might scare it by talking too loud. "what do we do?"
"there's gotta be something in the jet," he says, watching you clutch the animal to your chest in a vain attempt to warm it up.
you whimper. the jet's too far away on foot.
not for you—for the cat.
"i got it, i got it." he lets you tip the creature into his waiting hands, gingerly readjusting his palms so it won't fall out during the flight. "i'll meet you there, okay?"
by the time you and the rest of the team have returned to the quinjet, sam has removed most of the dirt, dried it, and swaddled it inside the spare thermal in his pack. steve and natasha give him amused looks, but he concentrates on handing the little one to you once you've taken your suit off.
then, he removes his own gear and returns to your side, observing how you cradle the baby in your lap. "you name it yet?"
"dorothy." you smile. "dot for short."
"why's that?"
"we found her by the garbage can." you scritch her fur when she meows. "tin can, tin man. wizard of oz."
he hums. "good name."
"can we keep her?"
"i don't know if our apartment allows cats."
you pout at him. "sam."
"i know, i know," he laughs. "we'll make it work."

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rodrikstark's headcanons (part 3)
Fanfictionmore headcanons from tumblr. personal favorites will be marked with a * [cross-posting from my ao3]