[ steve almost laughs, sam can see something of the start of it, and he's...what? disappointed? that he couldn't pull it out fully. he'll keep trying, of course, so there's not too much lost. but each and every moment they get closer, sam feels a bit like he's seeing more of steve and less of the captain poke through. ]

Yeah, but I'm talking about good pizza. New York pizza. Actually, there was a place back in D.C. specifically- [ sam cuts himself off, there, because now he's just making himself sad. he looks at steve and then steps back one step to give him the room to check just how screwed they are, himself.

i'm not giving up steve says, and sam's eyes fall to the back of that blond head for a few long moments. he knows he doesn't mean the stove, he knows that the weight behind the words is meant for something else. some one else. whether or not steve notices, sam takes a long breath, and then exhales. slowly. a silent agreement - i know. ]

Okay, fine- if a hot plate will get me a pizza, I'll leave the stove alone. For now.

[ because he can tell there's something else. his eyes linger on the back of steve's head, just for another second but then sam crouches next to steve, close enough that after a moment, he just ends up bumping his shoulder to the other's. if steve glances over to him, sam will simply grin, because whether or not he was the one frustrated about the stove, it's the other lines he's focused on. the curve of steve's shoulders. his back. ]

Then we come back for this thing.