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Summary
He lifts his back off the mattress, supporting it on his elbows. “Well damn, maybe you should be locked up.”
“Don’t say it, don’t —”
“You’re killing me with that ass.”
Sam gets close to him, putting the pillow under the caset with a tenderness he’s forcing. He really wants to throw it to him and hit that stupid, way too cheeky smile off his face. “You were passing out on me two hours ago, can we go back there?”
Before James can open his mouth, Sam shuts him, “And don’t you dare say my ass empowers you.”
Or, Bucky breaks his leg and Sam takes care of him... in more than one way.