Marvel OC Hub

Sam sat down across from her. "Would you like me to run to Target for a creamer?"

Given that they were in a town in the middle of nowhere, it would be a very short run.

Esme rolled his eyes and took another sip, pushing the dark-as-her-heart coffee down her throat, and continued reading the newspaper. "If they are new, they're about to be fired."

"You never were," Sam reminded her, " And you wrote plenty of articles that weren't exactly on the government's side. Nor the Avengers', for that matter."

Esme smirked at him. "I only wrote the truth."

"Mhm," Sam chose to drink from his mug. "Well, so did that journalist."

"Let's just hope they're not run off then," Esme muttered under her breath, leaving the 'just like I was' hanging in the air between them. "These days, writing something about us often leads to the involvement of the police."

"They don't mention anything about our whereabouts," Sam assured her it was all perfectly fine — in what fits. Their circumstances weren't exactly the best, hadn't been for the past two years.

"Is it weird that, as crazy as it sounds, I feel a little jealous that they got to write about me instead of me writing about me?" Even hearing herself made Esme laugh and how ridiculous it sounded. "Time was I could give firsthand testimonies about this stuff. Now I can barely even write my name on a piece of paper to check in at a motel. I even missed the little looks you used to give me when I wanted to publish something a bit more controversial."

She and Sam shared a chuckle with each other. God knows they had discussions about her more controversial articles but it was never about Sam wanting Esme not to write them. He just wanted her to be 110% sure that it's what she wanted to put out there and that she was prepared for the potential backlash she could get.

"You know if I could—"

"Don't even go there, Sam," Esme interjected, lowering her mug to the table. "I would gladly write my last article all over again. I'll be damned if the government shuts me up."

"That would certainly be a super power," Sam teased.

"One you seem to own at special times," Esme said flirtatiously.

Sam rolled his eyes at her, but she saw the little smile on his lips threatening to come out.

"No, the truth is that the government has been pressuring all media outlets to turn anyone who doesn't agree with the Sokovia accords into the bad guys. I'm just an example. Which makes this" — Esme picked up the newspaper in one hand — "a hell of a surprise to me. This writer has no idea what they're going to get themselves into."

"Look at it this way, you may have inspired this new writer to write the actual truth. They, like you in the past, chose to do this, because they knew it was right. Besides, they only wrote about your past."

"Leaving it up to the public to decide about me," Esme said, sounding somewhat proud. It had always been her tactic when she used to write for the Daily Bugle. Maybe this new writer had, at some point, been a fan of hers. "I just wish I could help when they're inevitably in trouble. The only thing that stops me from attacking back is you."

Sam's gaze softened at her. She spoke so casually about her "only reason" like it was a common known fact. He didn't like to think about all the things she sacrificed in the name of the Avengers — and him. He made the choice not to sign the Accords. He made the choice to stand by Steve and he made the choice to fight. It was all on him.

"Don't do that," came Esme's stern scolding.

Sam locked eyes with her and saw her flat expression. "Do wh—?"

"God, Sam, do you think I don't know what you're doing? You're the King of bottling things up!"

"Am not," Sam argued quietly, even scoffing for dramatic effect.

"Oh please!" chuckled Esme, throwing her head back. "That's why you and Steve get along so well! You both like to take everyone's choices and blame yourself for them. Well I am sorry to tell you, Samuel, that we little people make our own choices too."

Esme got up from her chair, abandoning the newspaper once and for all. She made herself comfortable on Sam's lap, draping her arm around his shoulders. "I made my choice and I stand by it. Ugly coffee and crappy motels and all."

Sam shared her smile and accepted her loving kiss.

"I'm going to shower," Esme said as she got up. "Do me a favor and try not to make a mess while I'm gone."

Sam mocked a salute as she gathered her things to shower. When the door to the bathroom closed, his eyes landed on the newspaper in the middle of the table. He read it several times more while Esme showered. Everything about it was true and he couldn't be any more proud of Esme. Her history of journalism had it always been to write the truth no matter how bad it could paint someone. Was it the most sound way to write? In some people's opinions it wasn't.

He himself had gotten into several arguments with her about her writing. Some of her articles did paint him and the rest of the team in a bad light. But even then, as much as Esme loved him, she couldn't back down from the truth. And the truth about the Avengers is that they did make mistakes. Mistakes that they had to own up to, including himself. But even despite all that, somehow he and Esme wound back together. They couldn't stay apart for very long. It wasn't the easiest of relationships but at the end of the day, they knew where they stood in regards to each other.

That was why when she wrote her last article for the Daily Bugle detailing about the Avengers and the government in Germany, Sam had come out of hiding to get to her before Ross did. He was sure that Ross wouldn't have necessarily put Esme on the Raft, but he sure as hell knew the man wouldn't touch his heart to put Esme somewhere equally terrible. He found Esme before any of that happened and she ran with him and the Avengers, no hesitation. Esme ran with the Avengers who had broken the law. In the government's eyes, she was as guilty as they were for fighting in Germany.

Sam reached over and grabbed the newspaper. He didn't understand how the very media Esme worked for had now turned on her. The Daily Bugle turned its stance around their ex-employee — their best writer, if Sam had to say — and we wrote several articles condemning Esme's work and public stances. It seemed, though, that they now had a new employee who was willing to test those waters. It made Sam smile a bit; one could say that the Daily Bugle had another Esme on their hands now.

Sam rolled up the newspaper and stood up from his chair. He listened to the water running in the bathroom then glanced at the table where Esme had left her coffee.

He tossed the newspaper into the little crummy trash bin at the corner of the room and got his jacket.

~0~

Esme had come out of the shower to find that her boyfriend was gone. She didn't think any of it since he was always out doing some kind of patrol with the rest of the team. She went about her own day, which involved exploring the new neighborhood they were in that day. She always took care that nobody recognized her. Today, she was lucky enough to have Natasha to pass the day. They spent their time going around visiting stores and anything else that wouldn't get them caught. When they returned to the motel, Esme was surprised to find her room dimly lit with candles and an amazing dinner set up at the table.

"What is going on?" she couldn't help her amused chuckle.

Sam was waiting for her and walked over to take her bags from her. "Thought I'd surprise you today, that's all."

Esme chuckled again while he set her bags on the ground. "Why?"

"Just because." Sam took her hand and walked her towards the door. "Went out and got some of your favorites."

"Sam, I don't think we should be wasting money…" Esme said sheepishly, "I bought the usual stuff—"

"It's not like we're low on it," Sam said, glancing at her pointedly. Their resources were funded by the King of Wakanda, of course. They just liked being careful about it.

"Yeah, but…" Esme looked at the table again, feeling a big knot in her chest.

They were all her favorites. Mexican food, strawberries and raspberries, followed by her favorite desserts, arroz con leche (rice milk) and flan.

"You really didn't have to," she said in a much quieter voice than she had planned.

"I just wanted you to feel better," Sam said matter-of-factly.

Esme looked at him confused until he gave her that sharp 'Don't lie to me' look. She flushed and looked away.

"You know you don't have to lie about that stuff," he said.

"I don't want you to feel bad," Esme replied. "And don't you lie to me either because we both know it's the truth. Every time we see something on the news about me, you always get so guilty."

"I can't help it," Sam shrugged. "You left your stable life because of me."

"No I did not," Esme said sternly. "The truth is that if you hadn't come for me, I would've probably been locked up a long time ago. Ross pressures anyone who's not with him and he would've found some way to lock me up. You didn't ruin me, Sam, you saved me."

"I didn't exactly bring you to a very luxurious life," Sam said, trying to ignore the warm feeling in his chest from her words.

"Oh," Esme turned to him and set her hands on his shoulder to then rest her chin over them, "because I was living in a 5 story mansion—"

Sam rolled his eyes at her.

"—with 10 butlers—"

"Alright," Sam said sharply.

"—and a jacuzzi in the backyard!"

Sam deadpanned her while her little smug smile grew into a wide grin. "Don't turn this into a very sad dinner," he warned.

Esme smirked. "Then stop being an idiot so we can enjoy our dinner."

Sam pressed a kiss on her forehead then proceeded to flick her on the same spot. She giggled and kissed his cheek.

"But just be warned if you got some ugly arroz con leche, this relationship is over!" Esme grabbed his hand and dragged him to the closest chair.

"So this whole relationship hangs on the basis of rice pudding?" Sam made a face. "That bodes well for me."

"Don't you ever call it 'rice pudding' again," Esme said dead serious.

Sam rolled his eyes and yanked her down on his lap. "Just taste it already and tell me if we're over."

Esme reached for the container and popped the lid open. She was gifted with a sweet cinnamon scent. She grabbed a spoon from a take-out bag and dipped it in the container.

Sam watched her taste it with a faux worry. "So, what's the verdict?"

Esme hummed as she swallowed. "Good news, you get to keep me for a bit longer."

"A 'bit'?" Sam said incredulously. "What the hell does that mean!?"

Esme chuckled as she ate some more. "Just know that I do expect at some point a 5-story mansion."

"I was thinking more of a little house a decent distance from the city," Sam said so thoughtfully that Esme paused her next spoonful of dessert.

She looked at him curiously and then decided to push that topic a bit more. "Oh yeah? What else do you see?"

"Papers everywhere," Sam said instantly, a smile making its way across his face. "Your work, half done and some barely touched but they're all so important and I can't mess with your thought process so they all stay where they are. One of them is underneath the coffee table."

Esme's lips twitched. That did sound like her.

"And there has to be a color theme because things have to match," Sam said, "God forbid the couches don't match with the t.v.'s table. I like the idea of my own little workout room but somehow there would be papers inside it too."

Esme's lips were struggling real hard not to let out a laugh.

"And the backyard has to be enough for us to have barbecues. Carné asadas," he said dramatically, and Esme nearly snorted at his terrible pronunciation. "A little hammock we could relax on in the afternoons…"

"That sounds very wonderful, Mr. Wilson," Esme nodded approvingly.

"It does," Sam agreed, meeting her eyes. "And someday, it will all be true."

There was one last little detail he imagined along with the picture. It involved a ring or two on fingers…and shared last names…

You had no idea how you'd managed to find yourself in Natasha Romanoff's bed.

Well. The first time, anyway.

It had started as a rough day and a girls night with your best friend and wine, and the next thing you'd known you'd found yourself in Nat's bed, moaning underneath her.

In the months since then, it had become normal, routine even, to spend nights together intimately. Nobody batted an eyelash when the pair of you went off together after a mission, not even Tony in all his subtlety would do much more than arch an eyebrow.

Sometimes you just laid in bed together and talked, other times you were pretty damn sure the pair of you had woken the whole Tower with the way you went at it, despite the soundproofing you were certain Tony had installed on every floor. From the outside looking in, you could imagine people must've mistaken it for a romantic relationship. But it wasn't. You'd both agreed there were no romantic feelings from the start, and, to your surprise, none had developed; it really was just the best sex of your life - hell, the best relationship of your life - with your best friend. Part of the agreement was that if one of you happened to meet someone and fall in love, you would break it off with no hard feelings. The whole thing was freeing in a way you'd never felt before.

As to how you wound up in her bed this time? A hard mission where you’d fucked up, and a deep-seated need for release.

Her lips trailed over your jawline and neck, teeth nibbling your skin every so often. And that miraculous tongue of hers soothing the bites. Every graze of her teeth against your skin pushed the guilt further away. Nat had a way of calming you down that you wished you could find in a romantic partner. But so far, your luck had been abhorrent.

Just like it had been earlier.

Sure, on some level you knew that it wasn't really your fault Hydra had put a self-destruct on the database. Nor was it your fault you'd lost everything; the second the program detected you tampering with the system, it had gone nuclear, leaving only the smell of fried circuits to keep you company in that cramped server room. But maybe if you'd been better prepared, faster, you might've known they'd try that. There were a million things you could've done differently that might've lead to you succeeding, and the location of Hydra's base would be in the systems already.

"Stop thinking," Nat murmured against your skin.

"Can't help it." You gasped sharply as her teeth dug in a little more roughly, leaving a mark you'd be teased about later. No way in hell Tony would let that one go.

Her lips curled into a grin against your neck as she made her way lower.

There had been a brief glimpse at the code executing before everything had crashed; maybe you could compile a program to -.

Nat's teeth grazed your nipple.

- to detect -.

A nip at the sensitive flesh.

"Fuck!" you groaned, tangling your fingers in her soft red hair. Without your permission, your muscles started to relax under her ministrations. While you might've been unable to articulate what had been bothering you only seconds before, your troubles remained an echoing but persistent tone in your mind.

"Hmm." Apparently that was enough for Nat; she made her way further south. 

Trails of fire settled under your skin where her hot breath whispered words of encouragement as she went.

"Let go."

A kiss near your belly button.

"Relax."

A gentle bite just above your panties.

All too slowly, Nat peeled the fabric away and slid your panties off, tossing them to parts unknown in her bedroom. Lips, teeth, fingers, hot breath teasing you oh so close, but never quite where you needed her. The stress and anxiety still niggled somewhere in the back of your mind, though you couldn't quite remember why.

Finally she nestled between your thighs.

And with one swipe of her tongue your mind finally went blank.

Almost the second the door closed behind her, Katie's shoulders sagged in relief. The apartment in Avengers Tower was her sanctuary, the one place that stress and worry couldn't penetrate. In the time they'd been together, she and Sam had made it home, from the bright paintings hanging on the wall that tickled her ADHD to the engineering and mechanics texts that lined the bookshelves. Even the bedroom was a testament to their personalities: on her side, an end table scattered with jewellery, paper, a knife, one bullet for some reason she'd long forgotten, and an open drawer filled with clutter; on Sam's side, cleanliness, closed drawers, clean surfaces, and a clock set to the right time.

Katie smiled half-heartedly.

Sometimes she wondered how Sam put up with her chaos.

Kicking off her shoes, she padded her way to the kitchen and pulled out all the ingredients she'd need to make a quick and easy pesto pasta, then turned on the stove. As she poured the pasta into the pot and started stirring, more of the stress from the day melted away.

Ross had stopped by the tower and gone apeshit over their latest mission in the Alps. Especially over Katie's little side quest to the Nexus.

Reckless.

Stupid.

All kinds of blah blah blah had spewed from Ross's mouth.

It wasn't the tirade itself that necessarily bothered her. At least not on the surface. It was more the straw that broke the camel's back.

Katie'd never understood that expression. Was it supposed to be why some camels had two humps? Did camels carry straw often? Why would one tiny piece of straw break its back?

The water boiling over brought her back to the present.

"Shit!"

She pulled the pot away from the heat, cleaned what she could, and started over on a new burner at a much lower heat.

Ross always acted like a self-righteous annoying shithead, lording shit over everyone on the team in one way or another. For all Katie cared, he could spend the whole damn day belittling her and she wouldn't bat an eyelash.

On top of that, she'd gone out earlier with Nat and it had been Pride flags everywhere to celebrate Pride Month. While people were busy picking through the merch, joyously pulling flags from across the rainbow and displaying them proudly, not a single place had carried the heteroflexible flag. It was invalidating and heavy in a way she couldn't even begin to describe, just a nagging voice in the back of her mind telling her her feelings weren't just or right. People she'd never met somehow judging her without ever holding a conversation.

It built throughout the day. Little things mostly - a dropped straw, fumbling with her keys, forgetting her cellphone. Each one pushing her temperature higher, just edging the danger zone.

Then Ross had jumped down her throat.

And she snapped.

The arrogant prick had no idea what she'd needed at the Nexus, he just liked to complain. Especially when it came to her, every little ADHD quirk she had seemed to piss him off.

And to make things worse, Sam was off in New Orleans visiting his sister and nephews. If Sam had been there, she was sure he would've caught it before she went off and calmed her down in some subtle way. Maybe. There was a slim chance he would've been just as pissed at Ross.

Katie pushed out an angry breath, willing herself not to get worked up again as she stared at the dancing pasta noodles in her pot. Little bubbles pushed them up to the surface, and they'd float back down, only to be picked up again. The movement was almost soothing and Katie tried her breathing exercises as she watched the pot.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she realised that normal people counted sheep to relax, and there she was counting tiny pieces of rigatoni.

When the noodles were nearly done, she put the colander in the sink.

Another minute passed, and when she was satisfied with the state of the noodles - al dente was not her thing, she preferred a much softer noodle - she brought the pot to the sink and tipped it over the colander. Without thinking she reached up to help a stuck noodle and burnt her finger on the metal, dropping the pot into the sink with a loud clang. Noodles flew everywhere.

"Son of a fucking bitch!"

Tears pricked her eyes at the sight of the mess, but she closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose. Sam had shown her the technique ages ago, part of PTSD relaxation exercises he'd learned, and it seemed like it worked for her emotional dysregulation as well. She held the breath for four seconds, then slowly released. And repeated the exercise until she wasn't on the verge of angry tears.

After a quick clean, she put the surviving noodles in a bowl, mixed in some cheese, pesto, and veg, then made her way to the couch for a night of shitty action movies until Sam's nightly call.

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An hour later the number thirty-three bus was speeding down the freeway. The acting was terrible, the plot was loose at best, but you couldn't beat a young Keanu Reeves in 90s grunge clothing trying to save a busload of people from evil Dennis Hopper. As the LAPD pulled up alongside the bus, she heard the apartment door open and fought against rolling her eyes. It had to be Nat, coming to check on her now that Ross had left. Who else would just walk right in like that, with Sam out of town?

"I'm fine, Nat." The woman was a damn ninja, no wonder she knew the apartment door code. Either that or she had JARVIS to blame. "Seriously, just let me eat my carbs in peace."

There was no reply from the entry, nor did the sound of footsteps reach Katie's ears. But that didn't mean Nat had left.

Katie opened her mouth and started to turn around, when a teddy bear appeared in her field of vision. It was a light brown bear, only a few inches tall, and in its hand was a heart with the heteroflexible flag on it. Attached to the bear was a familiar hand, then an arm, finally a smiling Sam.

"Hey, baby."

All her worries melted away into her first genuine smile all day. "You're home early."

"And you are uncharacteristically still," he replied, walking around the couch as she put her pasta down on the coffee table. He dropped down next to her and pulled her sideways into his arms. "Natasha told me what happened."

"Did she also tell you I made a mess in the kitchen?" she sighed, tucking in against his chest. She draped a lazy arm around his waist and closed her eyes, drinking in the smell of Old Spice and coffee; the distinctly 'Sam' scent calmed her further. "I cleaned it. I mean, hopefully I got it all. I just...."

Sam dropped a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "Don't worry about it," he murmured into her hair. "You okay?"

She nodded against his chest. "Better now." From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the bear where Sam had dropped it on the couch cushion, and reached for it. The fur was softer than she'd expected, and for a moment she lost herself in the feeling of her fingers rubbing into it. Of Sam's breath tickling the hairs on the top of her head. Somehow every feeling that she was less than, that she wasn't valid was pushed away by the bear. If she was valid and worthy in Sam's eyes, did it really matter what faceless strangers thought? "Where did you even find this?"

"Trade secret," he chuckled. "You like it?"

Katie bit down on her grin. "I don't know how you do it, Sam, but it's perfect." Angling her head up, she met his gaze. "Thank you."

Sam's fingers caressed her cheek, pulling a sigh that carried all her remaining troubles away. "You know I got you, Katie." With a soft kiss - or two or three - he laid back down on the sofa and pulled her with him.

As she tucked in against his side, she tried to focus on the movie, but with the weight of the day's emotions finally lifted, sleep didn't just call, it screamed. Her eyelids drooped lower and lower, not even the action on the TV could override the way Sam's gentle murmurings lulled her further under.