rodrikstark's headcanons (part 4)

s. wilson + late night

five minutes into your adventure to the twenty-four hour corner store, and sam has already texted. you okay? you roll your eyes, grabbing your favorite brand of chips.

"thanks," he says when you return, tossing him the bag. it skates past his fingers, landing with a crunch on the table. he blinks sleepily.

you're not much more alert, but the two espressos that were sneezed out of that cheap-looking machine should solve that. though, this plan flies out the window—the same grimy hotel window you've stared at for hours, overlooking the streets of some romanian city you can't pronounce—when he dumps your coffee into his own cup. "hey!"

"go to sleep," he suggests flatly, motioning to your bed.

"i'm supposed to help you stay up."

he tips the two shots into his mouth, clearing his throat. "you just did."

you cross your arms, then your ankles on the suitcase that sam dragged over to give you a chance to lean back in these stiff chairs. "c'mon, sam, if i'm tired—"

his question is sharp, but not mean. "what?"

"then you must be."

"i can't give up now." he shakes his head, opening the bag and offering you some. "we're so close."

you sigh. "i hope so."

some time passes; you can't say how much. too busy pretending like your half-lidded eyes are actually narrowed in concentration. like you actually care about finding this guy.

sam's low voice shakes you from your haze. "and hey, maybe i'm a changed man."

you smile to yourself. "you've never once been able to stay up later than me, wilson."

"it wasn't—" he pokes your ribs, chuckling. "a competition." you catch a flash of his white teeth in the darkness as you push him away.

"it was, and i won every time."

"it's not fair, 'cause..."

sam reaches for the chips and finds the bag empty. he crushes the foil, throwing it to the bin across the room.

you frown. "'cause...?"

"you made it so easy," he admits, the side of his head finding your shoulder. "always so easy to fall asleep next to you."

this is bad. he needs a jab to the stomach, you need to shrug him off, but he's too heavy for your sleep-deprived muscles. "well, now i'm here to make it really diffcult."

"thank you," sam murmurs. his elbow hooks around yours, drawing you closer. thank you for making things difficult? you almost laugh.

but god, he smells so good. and he's the only warm thing in this frigid goddamn city. "sam."

"hmm."

"let's say, you have the wings." a pause. "and you can fly to the top of any world landmark, but no exploring. you just have to stand there, and look out." your mind races: paris, toronto, dubai. "where do you go?"

sam doesn't answer. you curse that pathetic watered-down espresso, because he slips his fingers between yours before drifting to sleep.