⮕ 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓 ❘ [𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘]

▬▬▬▬ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅

TIMELINE｡˚ ⁀➷ Post AOU, Pre-Civil War

WARNING｡˚ ⁀➷ Fluff, A bit of groping

PAIRING｡˚ ⁀➷ Sam Wilson x Y/N Dmitri

SUMMARY｡˚ ⁀➷ When a late-night mission report keeps you glued to your laptop well past 2 AM, Sam pulls out every trick — from sulking snuggles to dramatic declarations — to lure you back to bed. But it's the morning after, complete with team teasing and a very viral nap photo.

꧁꧂

It had been long since the clock passed 2 AM, but you were still glued to your laptop, hunched over the screen on the edge of the bed, fingers tapping steadily.

Behind you, the room was dim and quiet — except for the rustle of sheets as Sam sat up slowly, rubbing his face, eyes bleary from sleep. He blinked toward you like a kicked puppy, clearly displeased to find your side of the bed still empty.

"You said ten more minutes," he mumbled, voice low and rough with sleep.

"I know," you said without looking, chewing your lip as you scrolled through the data, "But I've got a deadline. This report has to be sent before morning,"

Sam made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh as he scooted closer, sheets wrapped around his waist, warm chest bare and glowing faintly in the laptop's light. He sat behind you, letting his hand reach out to gently take yours — only for you to instinctively pull away a second later, typing something quickly.

He frowned, sulking, "You really choosing spreadsheets over me right now?" he muttered, teasing — but with just the faintest bit of jealousy in his voice, "That's cold, babe. Ice cold,"

You snorted softly, still focused. "I'm not choosing them. I'm just... briefly prioritizing them."

"Uh-huh," He gave you a long, flat look before slumping forward, chin dropping to your shoulder, "I came to bed and everything. Warmed up the blankets. Left you the good pillow. And you're here having a one-night stand with Excel,"

"Mm-hm," you hummed distractedly, eyes still on the screen, "Very kinky,"

Sam groaned louder, flopping dramatically against your back, "You don't even love me anymore,"

You laughed, "Baby, I literally gave you the last bite of cheesecake tonight,"

He scoffed, muffled against your shoulder, "Yeah, and now you're making me suffer in bed alone while you romance your laptop. That hurts. Deep,"

Without missing a beat, you reached out, grabbed his sulking hand — and calmly placed it on your boob.

"There you go," you said dryly, still typing, "Best I can do right now."