Avengers Imagines (Part One)

Sam Wilson X Parker!Reader - We don't have to take our clothes off (Part 2)

A/N- this imagine follows on from the last one. There may end up being a part three because I'm really enjoying writing this at the moment. I hope you all enjoy it.

You had spent most of that day doing nothing. Somehow, you had managed to convince Peter that monster movies and take out would be a brilliant idea, but now, two and a half movies deep, your little brother was snoring softly at the other end of the sofa, and you had a food baby the size of a... Well... an actual baby. 

When your phone vibrated in your lap, you jumped, pulling your eyes away from the screen for a moment to look at whatever message you had received.

Hey. Hope you're feeling a bit better than me today. Sam.

You chuckled, tapping away at the screen to type out a quick message.

You're awake, so you're faring better than Petey. Y/N.

You snapped a quick picture of a sleeping Peter, snorting as you sent of the message.

Aww! Spider-Boy looks so cute when he's not talking... or trying to fight me. Sam. 

You laughed, reaching out and pausing the movie.

Yeah... I'm really sorry about that. Y/N.

There was a moment of silence as you waited for a response, watching the bubble pop up, showing that Sam was typing.

No need to be. Peter explained everything this morning. Sam.

Oh... Everything? Y/N.

Yeah. And I want you to know that I understand what you were so worried about. Raising a kid is a really big deal... raising someone else is even bigger. Sam. 

You chuckled, shaking your head.

You are more understanding than most guys. Y/N.

Yeah? Well, that's because I'm not most guys. Sam.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering what to say next, when another text came through.

Could we meet up for a coffee some time? Or dinner? Whatever is best for you. Sam.

Yeah, I'd like that. Y/N.

*Time Skip*

A week later, you were sitting across from Sam in one of the poshest restaurants you had ever been to. There was soft music playing throughout the dining room, and white table cloths, and fabric napkins. Not your usual kind of place. 

"This place is fancy," Sam told you, his voice soft in the uncomfortably quiet room.  "I don't even know what cutlery to use."

You chuckled, holding back the snort that wanted to escape you. "Pretty sure you start on the outside and work your way in."

"That sounds fake."

You laughed again, taking a quick sip of your wine. "If you won't listen to me then you are destined to make yourself look the fool," you told him with a smile, "Peter has been learning that the hard way since he was a toddler."

Sam narrowed his eyes for a moment and then nodded. "I have decided to trust you."

"The smartest decision you will ever make, in my very humble opinion." 

You glanced back down at the menu, frowning as your eyes scanned the page. Beef Tartar; Ballottine of Duck Liver; Pithivier Of Celeriac. God, you didn't know what half of the words meant, let alone whether you'd like them.