Sam had called to say he was on his way home, and he had not sounded happy. Y/N determined that even if he had a terrible day, he should still come home to a hot meal and some tender affection. Grabbing a spoon, she stirred the contents of the pot on the stove. Taking a deep breath, Y/N closed her eyes and smiled. This was going to be one of the finest meals she’d ever cooked if she did say so herself. And she did.
SLAM! Y/N winced at the sound of the front door shutting loudly. He must’ve had a really rotten day.
“Sam?” She called, placing the spoon on the counter. A non-committal grunt could be heard from the front hall. Wiping her hands on her apron, Y/N walked to the kitchen doorway and leaned against the frame, folding her arms. Her husband sat taking off his shoes. Sam Wilson was scowling to beat the band, and the look didn’t change when he glanced up at her while placing his shoes under the bench. “Rough day?” She tried a sympathetic smile. He merely grunted again. Y/N frowned and furrowed her brows. He’s getting as bad as Bucky. She pulled away from the doorway and turned back to the stove. I don’t know how Vicky does it. Y/N thought to herself, picking up the spoon again. Sam shuffled into the kitchen and placed an absent-minded kiss on the crown of her head before wandering over to the refrigerator. “Sam could you hand me the milk?” She looked at her husband before turning her attention back to the pot.
“Get it yourself woman.” He grumbled, walking to the kitchen table. Y/N froze and turned to look at him. Oh?This is the game he wanted to play?
“Okay. I’ll get it myself.” Putting down the spoon again Y/N gave him a thin smile and walked to the refrigerator for the milk. Sam had his phone out, drinking a glass of water. Narrowing her eyes at him, she turned back and gently placed the milk on the counter.
“I’m going to take a shower, I’ll be down when dinners ready.” He left without putting his glass in the sink, or even acknowledging her presence.
“Don’t count on it.” Y/N muttered to herself, stirring.
(An Hour Later)
“Is dinner ready yet?” Sam came waltzing into the kitchen, clearly in a better mood. Unfortunately for him, now Y/N was in a bad mood. He looked around to find the kitchen spotless and his wife sitting at the table eating. There was only one plate set and that was hers. “Y/N?” Sam leaned against the counter and folded his arms.
“Yes, Sam?” She responded without looking up from her plate. Sam narrowed his eyes. He didn’t understand what was going on.
“Where’s dinner?” Now she glanced up at him.
“In the freezer. Reheat it if you want something. That’s something I’m not getting for you tonight.” Stabbing her fork into a piece of lettuce, Y/N returned her attention to her plate.
“Why would you,”
“I’m done.” Y/N cut him off by pushing her chair back and taking her plate to the sink. Without giving him a chance to say anything else, she marched towards the bedroom. “I’m going to sleep.” Sam shook his head and ran a hand over his face.
“What did I do to that woman?” He muttered to himself.
(One Hour Later)
Sam peaked his head into the bedroom, only to find his wife reading a book, reclining on the bed.
“I thought you were going to sleep.” Sam walked to the dresser to change into his pajamas. Looking into the mirror, he saw that she merely shrugged and flipped to the next page. Sam scrunched his brows again and shook his head. Putting on his pajama bottoms, he sighed. It had been a long day and all he wanted now was to spend some time with his wife. Adjusting his bottoms, he looked up at his wife and gave her a suave smile. Y/N glanced up from her book and narrowed her eyes.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sam shook his head and approached the edge of the bed.
“My wife is looking really foxy tonight.” He purred, placing one knee on the end of the bed. Y/N slowly looked him up and down with a dry expression. When he placed his hand on the bed and started crawling up, Y/N looked back down at her book and held up her foot, planting in against his shoulder. Sam glanced at the roadblock and cocked a brow.
“That’s something else you’re not getting from me tonight.” She flipped the page again. Sam pulled back letting her foot fall back to the bed.
“What did I do to you, woman?” He huffed, feeling his blood begin to boil. That was the wrong thing to say. Y/N snapped the book shut and glared at him. Reaching behind herself for a pillow, she threw it at his face and pointed towards the living room.
“Maybe a night on the couch will jog your memory.” Before he could open his mouth, Y/N held up a hand and narrowed her eyes. “We can make it more than one night.” Sam’s eyes widened and he scurried off to the living room.
“In my own house.” He muttered to himself, throwing the pillow on the couch and punching it. “That woman.” He flopped on the couch. Woman. Sam closed his eyes and groaned. It was all coming back to him. “I’m sure in the dog house now.” He leaned his head against the back of the couch and sighed.