After the fiasco with the America‐Japan dispute over Adamantium, The Falcon was grounded. Joaquin hated being forced into rehab and physical therapy after the accident, but it was all worth the while as he got to spend the months in recovery with you. The light of his life, his amor. He had promised that he wouldn't go on missions with Sam until his doctors gave the all-clear. But then Joaquin went back to working on comms, and something in him itched for more action (not that he wasn't already getting enough at home ;) )

Guilt ate away at his chest with every minute he spent back in the suit, stealthily infiltrating the boat into the control room while Sam dealt with the hostages. However, he wasn't expecting to turn the corner and have to suddenly pull a muscle as someone flipped him onto his back harshly. White-hot pain spread through his muscles like a hurricane. Joaquin gasped out before his eyes focused on the now apologetic figure. He sat up. "What the hell are you doing here??"

"I was about to ask you the very same thing, bird brain." You were a mix of concern and anger. Why was he here and not at home resting? Why wouldn't he tell you that he was getting back in the game??

Joaquin stammered, looking up at you sheepishly. "No...comment?...."

Begrudgingly, you helped him up, but not before smacking his shoulder.