A person who requested to be anon prompted:
For the Captain America, could I see something cute/heartwarming with Sam Wilson hanging out with some refugee school kids?
“Hey – who’re the kids?” Sam asked, standing in the lobby of Stark Tower. They had great coffee in the residential levels, but sometimes you just jonesed for a Starbucks and a cake pop.
A troop of children, probably between about six and fourteen, were following a guy in a white lab coat through the lobby, all of them wearing visitor’s lanyards.
Natasha took a sip of her latte. “Arno’s Kids.”
Sam whistled low. “Old man got around.”
She smacked him on the arm. “It’s a program the Maria Stark Foundation started. They take on refugee families, make sure they have basic supplies, give the kids some field trips so the parents have some me-time.”
“So why Arno?”
“Arno was an immigrant. He arrived with the clothes on his back and a smile. Tony thinks he was fleeing something.”
“Huh,” Sam said, finishing his cake pop. “Hey, I’ll catch up with you later, ok?” he said, and Natasha grinned at the look in his eye.
Sam, who was conscious of good branding, almost always wore a Cap shield shirt when he went out these days. His logo had little wings on either side, just to remind people oh yeah, Falcon is Cap now.
His plan worked like a charm for the kids; he hustled his ass onto the elevator with them, and saw several sets of eyes widen as he turned around, waiting for the door to close. Just after it did, one of the kids tugged on his pants pocket.
“Captain America?” she asked. “Sam Wilson Captain America?”
He grinned at her and offered his hand even as the field trip docent opened her mouth to scold. “Yeah, I’m Captain America. You must be Arno’s Kids, huh?” he asked, and several of them gasped. “I thought I’d come along today. You’re going to the robotics museum?”
The door dinged open on the lobby of the tenth floor robotics museum. The docent gaped at him.
“It’s cool, right?” Sam asked her, with a wide grin. She nodded. “Awesome. Hey, you guys wanna see a robot that can pick up and throw a water balloon?”
They all cheered, clustering around him like chicks as he led the way to the Splatter Zone (Tony knew his target market when it came to kids and robots). Most of them ran immediately for the robot that was very obviously the designated throwing machine, but one of the little ones held back with Sam. He put up his hand, and Sam thought he wanted him to hold it, but instead he patted the back of Sam’s hand with his. They had about the same skin color.
“Captain America,” the kid said, awed, staring at their hands.
“You want me to pick you up so you can see?” Sam asked.
Sam hefted the kid up, holding him around the waist with one arm. The boy leaned forward, spreading his arms, and announced, “Falcon!”
“That’s right, kid, Captain America and Falcon,” Sam assured him, and then everyone was distracted when a robot flung a water balloon twenty feet – straight up in the air.
Sam wiped water out of his eyes and grinned. He’d have to have a talk with Tony about working a little Captain America Time into the Arno’s Kids program.