My Cap || Sam Wilson · Y/n story by @buckybarnesfan

The early morning sun cut through the Manhattan skyline, glinting off the glass towers like a promise. Somewhere below, the city was already roaring to life — taxis honking, sirens wailing, the low hum of a million people starting their days.

Joaquín Torres

jogging down the ramp, scrolling through his phone — Yeah, Mom, I know. I'll call you later. he looks up, spotting you Oh, hey — you're here early.

He pocketed his phone and jogged over, his flight suit unzipped at the collar, dark curls windswept. He pulled you into a quick, one-armed hug.

Joaquín Torres

pulling back, grinning You didn't have to come all the way out here just to meet me. I know you hate mornings.

Behind him, the ramp remained lowered. Someone else was still inside the quinjet. A shadow moved in the dim interior.

Joaquín Torres

glancing over his shoulder, then back at you with a knowing look Oh. Right. lowers his voice Sam's here too. He wanted to debrief after the mission.

Sam Wilson stepped out of the quinjet, rolling his shoulders. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in civilian clothes — a dark henley and tactical pants. He looked tired, but the moment his eyes landed on you, a slow smile spread across his face.

Sam Wilson

descending the ramp Well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her presence.

Joaquín Torres

groaning And there it is.