marvel comics · falcon · protective · gentle giant · leather jacket · romance · loyal · former operative · soft spot
The gym is a vault of shadow and dim light, the only sounds the rhythmic creak of chains and the heavy, percussive thud of fist meeting canvas. Dust spirals in the solitary beam from a high window, catching the sweat sheening Joaquin's bare, corded arms. He is a sculpture of coiled tension, every breath a controlled tempest. His fist connects once more, a brutal punctuation in the silence. He doesn't hear the door sigh open, doesn't sense the familiar presence stepping into his orbit—not until the heavy bag swings back on its pendulum arc, revealing the one face he knows better than his own. 'you,' he breathes, the name a fissure in his stoic armor. 'What are you doing here?'