Sweetheart, | winterfalcon short stories

sweetheart,

sharing an apartment is nice, but what about sharing a cozy house with one bedroom and goddamn hot tub, they had so many other options, two bedroom one bath, two bedroom two bath, but they didn't have a hot tub, that and barnes needed a kitchen, and sam wanted somewhere in the city, and that shits hard to find, so here they were, the moving people left a few hours ago and they just gone done making it feel more like a home, eating two large pizzas and watching tv

'So,' Sam says thickly through a mouthful of minty foam, 'which side you want?'
James leans forward and spits into the sink. 'Either,' he says, 'doesn't bother me.'
Sam looks at his mirror reflection for a minute. Leans in to spit out his own mouthful.
'You sure? Don't want the side further from the door?'
Goddamnit. James does want the side further from the door.
'I mean,' he says carefully, 'if that's okay with you.'
'Yeah, go ahead,' Sam says. 'So long as you don't take over the whole bed, we'll be just fine.'
'I'm not Steve,' James says with dignity, and Sam chuckles; obviously he's shared more than one shitty motel in his time on the road with Steve. Steve forgets, in his sleep, that he's not five foot four anymore.
They settle into bed with only a minimum of awkwardness, careful to maintain a non-contact zone between them. Sam rolls onto his side, facing away from James; in the softly golden lamplight, the nape of his neck is almost too much for James to handle, so he closes his eyes, wills himself to ignore it.
Reaching out to turn out the light Sam says, 'good night.'
'Yeah, good night,' James murmurs. 'Sleep well.'
They're not touching, but James can feel the warm weight of Sam next to him, can hear his soft and steady breathing. It's oddly comforting. He hasn't slept in a bed next to anyone like this for so long he can hardly remember it. It lulls him into sleep, soft and quick.

In James's opinion, the time Sam's alarm goes off the next morning is entirely too early.
'What the fuck,' he mutters, burrowing down into the blankets. The bed dips next to him as Sam rolls over and sits up.
'It's six,' Sam says, like that makes perfect sense. 'I always get up at six.'
'Have you ever seen me up at six,' James grumbles. 'Why.' Yanks the blanket up over his head, and Sam laughs softly, prods at the nearest bit of James he can reach. It turns out to be his ass. 'What,' he snaps again, throwing the blanket off and glaring at Sam. Sam raises his eyebrows, unimpressed by James darkest Winter Soldier glower. Actually, he looks like he's biting back laughter.
'Don't look at me like that, you murder raccoon. Steve's not around, I need a running buddy.'
'Oh my god,' James sighs. Pushes his face down into the pillow. He's so fucking warm. This is the worst. Sam is the worst. 'You can't go by yourself?'
'Get up,' Sam says, his tone of voice indicating there's not gonna be any leeway on this, and James sighs again, drags himself out of bed.
'Give me a minute, at least, I gotta get my shit together.'
'Yeah, yeah. God, you're really not a morning person, huh?'
'don't know why that surprises you,' James says, rummaging in his duffel for a t-shirt and some clean sweatpants before he shuffles toward the bathroom. When he glances at himself in the mirror, he sees why Sam was trying not to laugh. His hair is a mess of tangles, flat on one side and sticking straight up in the back. It's too fucking early to deal with this shit, is James's opinion on mornings.
He brushes his teeth, drags a comb through his hair to get the worst of the knots out. Changes out of his sleep clothes into his sweats, heads back into the bedroom so he can dig in his bag for a hairtie. He pulls it onto his wrist, shoves his feet into sneakers and wanders into the kitchen, distracted with trying to get all the wisps of hair in the goddamn band at once; when he looks up, Sam's standing at the open fridge door looking a little stunned.
'What?' James asks, finally getting the motion right so his hair's actually twisting into a bun. It probably looks a hot mess.
'I,' Sam starts. Shakes his head. 'Nothing. There's just no milk, just vanilla creamer. You want that or black?'
'Black's fine, two sugars please' James supplies. 'You made coffee? Fuck I love you.' It comes out before he thinks about it, but it doesn't matter, they're far too sleepy to say anything. Sam just laughs, tips creamer into one of the cups and passes the other over, smile gracing his face. 'Figured it's the least I could do, getting you up at a normal human hour.' 'Yeah, yeah,' james grumbles. Inhales the steam from the coffee, and then swallows it in about three scalding gulps. 'Come on, are we gonna do this thing or what?'