Sam wakes up to the sensation of Steve's fingers trailing up and down his back. He smiles into his pillow and stretches languidly, but it does nothing to deter his partner, who leans down to press a kiss to Sam's shoulder. "Hi," Steve whispers. His breath ghosts across the skin of Sam's ear, tickling him.
"Been up long?" Sam asks. He feels Steve nod against his bicep, using his answer as an excuse to nuzzle closer. "Eaten yet?"
Steve shakes his head. "Been busy," he murmurs.
Sam laughs softly, and Steve flops down beside him. "Drawing on me again?" he asks fondly.
Steve had a habit of doodling on Sam absentmindedly--he loved seeing patterns and swirls of colors blooming across his partner's skin as a result of his ministrations. Sometimes, though, he would set to work with a purpose, an actual design in mind, and turn Sam into his canvas. "I took a picture before it faded," he said, reaching over Sam to get his phone off the nightstand. He had an entire album dedicated to his drawings on Sam, and some of his favorites included a bird on his bicep that Sam could make fly when he flexed, Steve's shield on each of his ass cheeks (Sam had gotten him back for that one by drawing a crude rendering of a dick on a sleeping Steve's cheek, drool flowing from the corner of his mouth to the tip), and calligraphy of "Be the light"--Sam's favorite quote--above his heart. "Be the light" was Steve's current lock screen, but the picture he shows Sam might replace it soon.
Sunlight is filtering through their curtains and dancing across Sam's back, highlighting the rich colors featured in Steve's design. It's unusual for different colors to appear within the same stroke of a fingertip, and the effect Steve has created with them is breathtaking: the tips of the wings Steve had given him, which extend down to his elbows on the backs on his arms, are green, and the color darkens into a deep blue as the design extends up to his shoulders. Purple and red mix around his shoulder blades, and faint swirls of yellow and orange flash through the feathers that dip down the middle of Sam's back.
Sam is speechless, staring at the art that Steve has made of him. "You...how did you do this?" he asked in awe.
Steve smiles earnestly. "I thought about how much I love you," he answers simply.
The picture blurs around the edges as tears burn in Sam's eyes. It's not that he doesn't know that Steve loves him--he tells him several times a day, through both words and actions--but...something about this, seeing the careful strokes of Steve's fingers over his scars and imagining how tenderly Steve had to have caressed him in order for him to have slept through the entire thing... "Steve," he starts, but his voice cracks, and he has to stop.
Steve takes the phone from him and threads their fingers together, using his other hand to trace the veins in Sam's wrist and along his forearm. Red and blue lines materialize, following the progress of Steve's index finger. "I thought about how much you mean to me, and how I would do anything for you, and how beautiful you are...it all came pretty easy after that. And--" Steve cuts himself off and leans in to kiss Sam instead. It starts as just a quick press of lips, but quickly deepens, and Steve pulls back to rest his forehead against Sam's. "You're my angel, babe. I wanted to show you."
Sam snorts softly and kisses Steve again, feels the curve of a smile on his lips and lets his own do the same. "And you're corny," he teases.
"Well I can't help it if you make me this way," Steve replies easily.
They lay back down, exchanging lazy kisses until Steve's stomach interrupts them. "Way to kill the mood, dude," Sam quips.
Steve rolls his eyes as he moves off the bed. "Yeah yeah, laugh it up. See if I make you anything."
"You know you can't cook, right? I'd actually prefer if you didn't."
"Whatever," he mutters.
Sam lounges back into their nest of sheets, listening to Steve putter around in the kitchen and letting the quiet sounds lull him into a light doze. When he wakes up, Steve is gingerly setting down a tray with a steaming mug of coffee and a plate piled with toasted raisin bagels for them to share, buttered to perfection. Sam groans at the sight. "I love you," he says.
Steve laughs, eyes twinkling. "I know."
Color blossoms along both of their shoulders when they settle against the headboard to tuck into their breakfast, a yellow that warms Sam's belly and makes his heart stutter in his chest. That man and I are joined at the soul, he marvels. Steve must catch the awed look on his face, because he gives him another soft smile before leaning over to kiss him sweetly on the cheek. "And I love you," he whispers.
Sam puts his first bagel down to grab Steve's hand, watching a warm pink spread through their fingers. "I know."