The early bird.
1:00 am
Peter’s text had read “carried her into his room.” Which, obviously was pure feverish drivel. The Black Widow, Natasha, he corrected himself, did not go in for that kind of sentimental crap.
Anyone trying to ‘bridal carry’ her anywhere, let alone into a bedroom, would likely wind up in a triangle choke before they knew what hit ‘em.
Satisfied that he was right and that the world actually made sense again, Sam shut off his phone and crept carefully back into bed. Maria was such a light sleeper.
........
6:30 am
Ringing. Again. Sam hurriedly reached for his phone not wishing to interrupt her. Damnit. Damnit. Fuck. Reaching over his coffee and stretching his fingertips he tried to shut it off and managed to put it on speaker phone.
“Hey, um...I’m sorry to bother you sir, Mr. um, Falcon...” Peter’s slurry voice filled the bedroom.
With a wet pop, Maria raised her head. Glared at Sam, glared at the phone, and rose to her feet from where she’d been kneeling. She ignored the horrified look on Sam’s face. And walked into the bathroom. Sam dropped his face to his hands as the shower came on.
“....hello? Mr. Falcon? I have some information for you. You just gotta...”
Putting the phone to his ear Sam quietly counted to 10: “....good morning Peter.”