#(a bop)

Sam rolls his eyes and continues his own stretching. “I could, but I don’t need that kinda humiliation. By the sound of it, though, Joaquin sounds like he’s up for it.”

Joaquin’s eyes widen. “I did not say that.”

You look over at Joaquin, still smiling. “What, are you scared, Torres?”

His breath hitches as he looks at you. Your face is so close to his, closer than its ever been before, and your arm is still wrapped around his shoulders. He’s never been electrocuted before but he’s pretty certain it must feel something like this. “Me, scared?” He attempts to scoff but it comes out as more of a choking sound.

You remove your arm from around his shoulders and move to stand a little in front of him. “Aren’t you here to learn some fighting techniques? C’mon, Torres. I’m a good teacher.”

For the first time probably ever, Joaquin is a little lost for words. He’s looking at you, trying not to think too much about how attractive he finds you, and also trying to convince himself that maybe he should accept a match against you. It’d be a good way to learn… and to get his ass kicked. But if you are the one doing the ass kicking, he could definitely get behind it…

“I’m just teasing,” you say, breaking his train of thought. “I’m not fighting you today.” There’s not a single bone in your body that is willing to fight against someone with such little training compared to your usual partners. When he was better and could really hold his own against you? Sure, that was fair game. But you hadn’t been able to help yourself today when you’d walked into the gym and heard them talking about you. “Do you mind if I watch though?”

Sam shakes his head. “Nah, that’s fine. It’ll probably be good for him to have another set of eyes to see what he needs to improve on.”

“Okay, great,” you hum, starting to walk over to the edge of the mat. You pause by Joaquin and place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You got this, Torres. Oh, and by the way, you smell good.”

Joaquin stares at you, a little bewildered, as you move to sit on the floor by the edge of the mat, leaning up against the concrete wall behind you and stretching your legs out in front of you. Did you actually just say that to him? How the hell was Joaquin meant to fight under these conditions? He’s all hot under the metaphorical collar now.

“Joaquin, you ready?” Sam asks, finishing off his stretching and stepping up onto the mat.

He clears his throat, looks at you one last time, and then nods. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Oh, he’s so screwed. 

~~~

You stay, watching the two men as they spar on the mat in front of you. Sam is good, as you had expected him to be with so much experience under his belt. Joaquin, though, is better than you’d expected. He fights almost as effortlessly as you, although some of his movements are a little clunky in places and he could definitely learn a thing or two about predicting his opponents movements. All things considered, though, you’re impressed.

After the training wraps up for the day, you excuse yourself from the gym and head into the kitchen – a popular place among the Avengers while using the Training Facility. You’re making a sandwich when Joaquin walks into the room.

He has a towel resting over his shoulder and there’s still a sheen of sweat over his skin from the fighting. His hair, which had been neatly styled before, is now a little messy, some strands of it falling over his forehead and softening his face. It’s the first time you’ve seen him outside of the gym and even though you knew that he was good looking before, nothing can prepare you for the strange feeling that erupts in your stomach as he saunters into the room. 

“I guess Avengers eat sandwiches too,” Joaquin says, breaking the silence as he sits on one of the stools on the opposite side of the counter from you. He notices that your eyes are a little unfocused as you look at him, but then you blink and you’re back to normal.

You chuckle. “You say that like we’re some kind of special breed, Torres. I’m a human, too, sweetheart. We humans eat sandwiches.”  

Joaquin is pretty sure he feels his heart stop as you call him sweetheart. He’s not even thinking about the sandwich anymore. All he can think about is the fact that you never refer to him by his first name and the fact that you just gave him a nickname that he hasn’t been called since he worked in a supermarket as a teenager and the older ladies would fawn over how kind and lovely he was.

“Yeah, sandwiches are pretty great…” is all that he can manage to say, his head swimming with thoughts about how you’re so tough, so strong, but how the word sweetheart sounds like music coming from your mouth.

You look at him for a moment. “Are we really gonna stand here talking about sandwiches, Torres?” 

He pauses and attempts to clear his thoughts. “What else would we talk about?”

“I don’t know, but I really don’t feel like trading sandwich secrets with you,” you admit as you grab a knife and cut the sandwich in half before putting it on a plate. You push it to the side, then, and lean down on the bench, looking across it at Joaquin. “I wanna talk about the fact that you wore cologne to a sparring session at the gym.”

Joaquin is glad he’s not eating or drinking. He’s certain he would’ve choked on it. You telling him that he smelled good had been on replay in his mind for the entire sparring match against Sam and had definitely been the reason Sam had gotten a few punches in. He hadn’t thought you’d notice it, letalone mention it, and he’s pretty sure it’s worn off by now considering he’d sweated so much during the fight. But here you are, cornering him about it.

“I wanted to make a better second impression on you than my first one,” he explains, a little sheepishly.

Truthfully, his terrible first impression on you had been weighing on his mind. He’d made a total fool out of himself, even though you’d assured him that he hadn’t. He had decided very quickly that he needed to do better next time.

You look at him for a second and then extend your hand towards him. “Give me your phone for a sec,” you say.

Joaquin furrows his eyebrows. “Why do you want my phone? He replies, mid-way through grabbing it and handing it to you across the counter. There’s nothing on there that he’d be worried about you seeing. Well… apart from a few selfies in his camera roll.

“Because,” you start, taking the phone from him. “I want to put my number in it. We’re on the same team now and if you ever have any questions about fighting techniques or anything similar, shoot me a text and I can help.” You open up his contacts, adding yourself to them. “And because you are not going to make a good impression on me simply by wearing cologne to a sparring session, Torres.”

He takes his phone back from you after you finish adding in your number and places it on the bench in front of him. “How am I going to do that, then?”

“We may be Avengers, Torres, but that doesn’t mean every interaction we have has to be within the walls of this training facility. I’d honestly prefer that they aren’t,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders. “We should meet sometime out in the real world, where we’re just you and me instead of a Black Widow and the Falcon. Get to know more about each other rather than just our fighting styles.”

Joaquin finds himself smiling. He hadn’t expected that from you. According to Sam, you’re one of the best fighters and a damn good Avenger. He’d thought you’d want to keep things that way – co-workers and nothing more. He’s never been an Avenger before so he assumed that would be how it was – his friendship with Sam being the exception. But apparently not.

“You’d actually wanna do that?” He asks, a little in disbelief.

“No, actually. I just said all of that but I didn’t mean a single word,” you reply, deadpan. “Yes, of course I would want to do that, Torres. I do actually have a life outside of being an Avenger, you know. I don’t only exist in this facility.”

A thought pops into Joaquin’s mind… you have a life outside of this place, which means there’s a very possible chance that you might have a partner. Someone you go home to every night, someone that listens to your troubles and fears when it comes to your job.

Almost like you can read his mind, you speak again.

“I’m basically asking you on a date, Joaquin.”

His head snaps up, eyes meeting yours. “You– wait, you and me? You want to go on a date with me? You’re– you’re asking me?”

“What is with you and not believing me when I say things to you?” You laugh a little, shaking your head. “I’m not talking anything serious, hence the word basically, but yes. You don’t need to give me an answer straight away. You should take some time to think on it. This is only the second time we’ve met, after all.”

You stand up straight and pick up the plate with the sandwich before walking around the counter and sliding the plate in front of Joaquin. 

“Eat. You need to regain your strength after getting your ass kicked by Sam,” you hum. “And then text me yes or no once you’ve had some time to think, yeah?”

Before Joaquin can even recover from his shock enough to actually say yes to you, you’re gone. He spins around in his chair, eyes falling on the empty doorway. Then, he turns back around, picks up his phone and types out a message to you.