[ oh, sam knows. it's part of the reason he feels so right in being here. why he knows, without a doubt, that it's where he's supposed to be. once upon a time he'd told his parents and sister that he had joined the air force to change the world. and while he's stuck in this run down safe house, arguing with captain america about pizza and whether or not they can get a stove as old as he is working again, would be considered saving the world. but somehow, in little moments like this, it does.

steve laughs, and sam feels lighter for it. feels better for every moment that he can pull a sound like that out of a man who constantly, constantly, ends up with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

somewhere in that, there is a moment. a brief flash of steve rogers, under all that captain america. sam has seen it more and more, over these last couple of weeks. stolen moments, brief flashes. when steve lets on he's tired, when steve gets frustrated with nowhere to go. and now, when steve looks at him as sam bumps his knuckle into his chest. reminds him, again, that he's here for good. that he's not going anywhere. steve's free hand comes up to sam's shoulder, wide and warm as it presses against the muscles there, and sam lets himself be temporarily basked in the light of steve's actual, honest smile.

there it is he thinks to himself. ] You should, but you won't.

[ and then sam's grin is widening, matching the breadth of steve's. ]

And you'd probably go hungry. Possibly also bored out of your mind. Plus- [ another tap to steve's chest, before sam is releasing his hold on his hand. or at the very least, relaxing his own - giving steve the space to let go if he wants to. ] You'd miss me, and I just can't have that.