[ He doesn't miss the shift of weight, the subtle way the two of them are pulled together like some sort of invisible thread was bridging the gap. He wonders if it is simply something magnetic about Sam or if it had anything to do with the elegant scrawl along the inside of his wrist that carried his companion's name. It isn't till he feels the softness of his lips that he shifts a little, head turning to the side and catching a glimpse of him. The muscles of his back tense briefly before relaxing, because having such spots touched still managed to send such a strange sensation shooting down his spine; but he trusts Sam in a way life hasn't let him trust very many other people.
He keeps still, at least for a second, because he wants to stay in the moment with Sam-- to keep himself from drifting into the broken memories that liked to fracture their quiet moments. The pain of his arm, the knife in his flesh-- he swallows it down. Instead lifting his flesh and blood hand to reach over his won shoulder just enough to trace his fingers along the line of his face. ]
fffffffffffffffffffffff
He keeps still, at least for a second, because he wants to stay in the moment with Sam-- to keep himself from drifting into the broken memories that liked to fracture their quiet moments. The pain of his arm, the knife in his flesh-- he swallows it down. Instead lifting his flesh and blood hand to reach over his won shoulder just enough to trace his fingers along the line of his face. ]
Morning.