A/N: This drabble was written for the May Roll-A-Drabble on the Marvelously Magical Fanfiction Facebook Group! I was rolled Sam Wilson/Sirius Black, and my trope was 'Wartime Romance'. It's the Second World War for reasons. I hope you enjoy! Love, Eli x

Disclaimer: I do not own the works made use of herein, none of the Harry Potter/Marvel universe features or characters belong to me. I make no money from this work.

Warnings: Rated M for situations, LOTS OF swearing, possible violence, sexual scenes...

Pilots and Puppy Love

"Calm down, Padfoot!"

Sirius bestowed a disdainful look on Remus before turning back to the airfield, but stopped hopping. For a second or two. Then Sirius heard Remus sigh as his vision started to get jumpy from his bouncing around.

He couldn't help it. He was excited. It wasn't very refined of him but allowances must be made on the day his love returned from the War.

And it had been a long war. Too long. Sirius had never wanted to put up with the endless waiting: six years with only sparse contact, without the promise of visits, no guarantee his man would return? No. He wasn't built for that.

But then – Sam. First Lieutenant Sam Wilson of the United States Air Force came crashing into his life – crashing being the correct term, as he had been shot out of the sky. Turns out Muggle planes don't really care about Wards, they'll just smash into the ground anywhere and bugger the lot of you if you complain.

Sirius hadn't complained. Mrs. Potter had been out of her mind worrying about her prized potions garden and the big chunk it had taken out of her kitchen, but he'd spotted the pilot by then and everything else had disappeared.

Sam had been lucky to land where he did, never mind what it might mean for Mrs. Potter's award-winning Venomous Tentacula. They'd managed to retrieve him from the wreckage and stop the bleeding before it blew up, installing him in a guest room while Sirius convinced Mrs. Potter not to call the Military Police. "He's your responsibility," she'd warned, like Sam were the dog and not Sirius.

Sirius took to nursing with enthusiasm.

Sam slept for a week while they tended him and on the eighth day woke to find Sirius staring at him.

Later, Sam would admit this had been less adorable and more incredibly off-putting, but Sirius was a dog with a bone and soldiered on regardless. He sat by Sam's bedside every morning, read him the news from the War as he recuperated, talking to him through breakfast. When Sam had been ready to walk again, they'd taken walks across the grounds, Sirius still chattering on.

Sam was a good listener.

He was also beautiful, but Sirius had known that from the first day when he'd been a mangled mess with blood pouring down his face. Smooth, dark skin, flashing eyes, full lips and a laugh that made Sirius feel like flying. When he woke up it only got better because he became charismatic and empathetic, with a quick wit that kept the household in good spirits for weeks.

Sirius fell in love with Sam so quickly it spun the world on its head and that would have been enough, except then he'd been able to watch Sam fall for him.

Slow at first, private smiles and embarrassment at Sirius's flirting, onto looks of challenge; eyes that met and lingered a little too long. Conversations lasting long past sunset and the single stolen kiss they'd shared, sweet and slow, the night six months after his arrival before he left to re-join the fight.

They'd gotten the telegraph notification of his arrival two weeks ago, marking a year and a half since he'd left. A year and a half since Sirius had last seen his face, since they'd last spoken. They'd not made any promises – foolish to do so, in a war – but there had always been hope…

"Is that him?!" Sirius demanded, preparing to run down the hill after his quarry.

Remus chuckled softly. "Sirius, that's a woman."

Squinting, he saw the skirt swirling around the woman's ankles. "Oh, yeah," he sighed, slumping in disappointment. Two minutes later the door opened again, and he perked up. "Is that him?!"

"Maybe you should hold the binoculars, Sirius," Remus said for the fifth time, dangling them in front of Sirius's face.

He waved them away impatiently. "They'll just get in the way." He narrowed his eyes, straining to see over the miles of flatland to the little building. Sam's plane had come in an hour ago, with no sign of him since. "Is that him?!" he shouted, making Remus lose grip on his binoculars, diving to catch them before they could slip down the hill and away.

"Padfoot, pull yourself together! It's not him, okay-"

"It's not who?" A strongly accented voice behind them asked, and this time Remus's jump sent him head-first down the hill. Sirius ignored that, too dazed to even notice.

"You came back," he stuttered, uncaring of his lack of dignity. Sam was here. Stood watching him with insouciant amusement and a sprinkle of nerves. He'd not thought – well, he'd hoped, but-

How could his heart break and soar all at once? He was stunned, so grateful that Sam was back, but the new scars, bruises and the dirt compacted onto his uniform all spoke of a great deal of suffering and– Sirius wasn't good at emotions, but he might cry?

"I thought you'd be happy," Sam said with a bemused little smile. "I came home."

"Home?" Sirius repeated. Yes, he liked the sound of that, so he pulled himself together and said it again, stronger. "Home."

It struck him, then, that Sam was here, looking like a dream come true and he wasn't even touching him.

Sirius threw himself at Sam so suddenly that only his firm grip broke the fall, wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close so that there was barely room to breathe. Sam smelt of smoke, dirt and sweat but Sirius didn't care, burying his face in his neck, breathing deep to ground himself.

"Does that mean you're happy to see me?" Sam asked with a smug grin. Sirius let out a barking laugh, cupped Sam's neck in his hands and dragged him down to fit their lips together, savouring the burning heat.

"Merlin, yes."