Joaquin Torres sauntered into the gym, shoulders back, chin held high, his hands wrapped and his feet bared. He donned a black tank top and athletic shorts. "Yo!" He called out to the opposite corner of the room where his friend and fellow hero ("hero!"--Joaquin still couldn't believe that he was, as he liked to say, "Living the dream!"), Sam Wilson stood, sporting a similar outfit. 

        "Hey," said Sam.

        "You listen to Ross's victory speech?"

        "Of course." Sam sounded a bit grave. "You?"

        "Yeah." Joaquin sighed. "How, uh, how you feelin' about it?"

        "We're not here to talk about Ross." Sam shook his head and stepped forward, bounding up and into the large boxing room at the center of the space. ""Ready to go, Miami?"

        Joaquin smiled. "You know it, man." Excitedly, he hopped into a jog and joined Sam on the sparring grounds. "Gonna finally teach me some of your moves, Cap?" He leapt from foot to foot, hands at the ready.

        Sam rolled his eyes, but allowed himself a smirk. "I've taught you plenty of moves."

        "Not any good ones."

        Sam chuckled. "Oh, no? Man, I could take yo ass down with anything I've taught you so far."

        "Is that right?" Joaquin took a playful swing, and Sam ducked out of the way.

        "Hey, hey, hey! We ain't started yet!"

        "What's the matter, Cap? Too quick for ya?"

        "You wish," said Sam. 

        The two men began to spar, fixed in their fighting stances as they circled one another in the middle of the ring, jabbing and dodging this way and that. Every time Joaquin took a few strikes, Sam would evade him, with fancy footwork and even a roll here and there.

        "Okay, Cap. I see you," said Joaquin, mildly impressed.

        "You're slow today." Sam dove forward and landed a strike on Joaquin's stomach.

        "Hey!"

        "C'mon, Miami! I'm goin' easy on you."

        "Oh, is that right?" He weaved forward and made contact with Sam's side, but he twisted out of his grasp, turned, and threw Joaquin down onto the mats. "Gah!" 

        "Sloppy, kid."

        "Kid?" Joaquin jumped back to his feet. "What's that make you? An old man?"

        "Oh-ho! Funny man."

        The two men began to wrestle. One would manage a few successful dodges, before he would ultimately be grappled and forced down. Each time Joaquin managed to get his arms around Sam's back or waist, however, Sam smoothly shifted himself free. 

        "You're looking a bit tired there, Torres," teased Sam.

        "I could do this all day," he said, invoking the original Cap's famous words.

        Sam smirked. "Wanna bet?"

        Again, the men went at it, exchanging blows, engaged in a dance of stamina and martial artistry--dodge, weave, hit, strike, tackle, wrestle, escape. Their grunts and groans bounced around the room for a few minutes.

        "How you feelin'?" asked Sam during a break. His biceps and forehead shimmered with sweat.

        "G-great! I'm good." Joaquin panted.

        "You're ready to break."

        "Hell no!" Joaquin dove forward, and again, Sam dodged. This time, however, Sam threw him down from behind with such force, Joaquin nearly had the wind knocked out of him. "S-shit, man!" He prepared himself to stand again, but he was caught by surprise when he felt Sam upon him. "H-hey!" He chuckled in surprise.

        "Gonna make you tap out," said Sam.

        Through a series of grunts, the men began to roll around the floor of the ring. They twisted around one another, trying to gain the upper hand. Heavy breaths, interspersed by quick, monosyllabic laughs. Finally, Sam, like a boa constrictor, managed to wrap his legs around Joaquin's torso, twisting his partner's body so that it was contorted just enough to almost be uncomfortable. He held Joaquin's legs together and, with his biceps, locked his ankles in place.

        "Ergh. Hrnnnnn..." Joaquin groaned as he tried to twist himself free, but he was completely restrained. 

        "Tap out," ordered Sam.

        "No way."

        "C'mon, man. Admit it. You lost."

        "No!" Joaquin struggled to move, but the only parts of his body to respond were his feet. They wriggled and flailed in Sam's grasp. 

        A playful, fleeting idea crossed Sam's mind. He wasn't quite sure what possessed him to do what he did next. Keeping one arm strongly wrapped around Joaquin's ankles, he decided to spider a few fingers over his partner's soft brown soles.

        "Hey! W-wait! What?!" Joaquin yelped and immediately began giggling. "W-What are you doing?"

        "Tap out," said Sam again, surprised that his infantile idea was yielding such great results. He began to scratch more intensely now, fingertips working their way into Joaquin's insteps.

        "YO! YOHOHOHO!" Joaquin giggled. "Stop it! This is unfair!"

        "Tap out!"

        "N-no!" Joaquin tried to fight, but there was nothing to be done. He was stuck. "Eeheeheehaha!"

        Sam grinned. "Man, I never knew you were this sensitive, Miami." 

        "Wh-who you c-calling s-sensit-tive? Heeeheehee!"

        "Imagine if our enemies knew that this is how they could take you out! And you wanna be the new Falcon?"

        Joaquin's squeezed his eyes shut, threw his head back, and laughed loudly, flashing a white, perfect smile. "S-SAHAHAHAM! STAWHAWHAWP! HAHAHAHA!"

        "Tap out."

        "N-nohohoho!"

        Sam kept tickling Joaquin's helpless feet, scratching at the heels, digging into the arches, digging beneath the toes. The skin was soft and sweaty and tan.

        "AHAHAHAHA! NOT FAIHAYHAYHAYHAIR!"

        "C'mon," said Sam. He was determined now. His brow furrowed as he focused on his tickling task.

        Joaquin felt himself melting into jelly as the ticklish sensations jolted through his body. "ARRGHAHAHAHAHA! Th-this is d-dirty, mahahahahan!!"

        "Just a bit of tickling. What's wrong? Can't take it?"

        "BAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
        "Give up?"

        "N-nohohoho!" Joaquin cackled, flopping around like fish out of water, still constrained by Sam's strong bodily grip. After another few seconds--driven to helpless glee--he broke. Five frantic taps on the mats. "Okay, okay! I'm tahahahapping out! I'm tapping out! Hahahaheheheh!" 

        Sam released him and stood up, leaving a flustered, Falcon-in-training on the floor. Joaquin slowly flipped himself onto his back. Panting, and resting a hand on his stomach, he scowled up at Sam, who stood over him proudly.

        "The hell was that?" asked Joaquin, a pouting expression on his face. His cheeks were flushed.

        "New finishing move I invented." Sam grinned, winked, and extended a hand to help him up.​

        Joaquin scowled, but a sheepish smile betrayed him. "You try that again, and I'll kill you."

        Sam laughed and helped his friend to his feet. "Ready for Round Two?" he asked.