❨𝑴𝑴𝑶𝑻𝑩 . . . 𝑏𝘰𝘰𝑘 𝑖 ❩ ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ ━━━ 𝙱. 𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙴𝚂 / ❛ i will 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡, 𝙨𝙝𝙚'𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙡 of 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 ❜
━━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘༄⋅° 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕
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𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 !
ITWAS EARLY morning in Washington D.C., a dark-skinned man doing his daily run around the Washington Monument, the beautiful purple, blue and pink sky shining down on him and the water glistened with its rich colors. Steve runs up beside him, running faster than the man was. "On your left," he says as he passes him, the strange man's head following him. Sam, the stranger, was now on the other side of the Monument, by the Lincoln Memorial when Steve is right behind him. "On your left," Steve passes him.
"Uh-huh, on my left, got it," Sam replies. By a large marble building, Sam was running around another side, Steve right behind him, footsteps lighter and faster. "Don't say it. Don't you say it."
"On your left," Steve says again.
"Come on!" Sam groans. He stops gradually as soon as he commences defeat. He was sitting down by a tree, hand on his stomach, sweat lining the edges of his sweatshirt when he hears a voice above him. "Need a medic?" It was Steve, being a bit cocky. "I need a new set of lungs," he replies, staring up at the tall blonde man. "Dude, you just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes."
"Guess I got a late start," Steve shrugs, looking around with his azure eyes, chest heaving. "Huh, really?" Sam chuckles. "You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap. Did you just take it? I assume you just took it."
"What unit were you with?" Steve notices the Military emblem on Sam's sweater. "58th Pararescue," he answers. "But now I'm working down at the VA." He points over his shoulder. "Sam Wilson." He puts his hand up, Steve grabbing onto it and pulling him up, "Steve Rogers."
"I kind of put that together," Sam responds. "Must've freaked you out, coming home after the whole 'defrosting' thing."
"Takes some getting used to," Steve says with a sigh. "But I had Diana there and it was all good."
"Diana? Is she an old friend?"
"Yeah, we both fought in World War II together. I'm glad she's still alive," Steve shrugs. "It's good to meet you, Sam." Steve goes to walk away, but Sam follows him a little. "It's your bed, right?" Steve turns around, "What's that?" "Your bed, it's too soft," Sam explains. "When I was over there, I'd sleep on the ground, use rocks for pillows, like a caveman. Now I'm home, lying in my bed, and it's like ―"
