the boop to his snoot had sam glancing up at knox, then he smiles. it's not that he's lacking the magnetism, it's not that he's not into knox, he's literally just not totally conscious.

the coffee's slowly kicking his brain on and he rolls his shoulders as he stands up, moving close enough to twist his head and give knox a very gentle kiss on the lips. the way their lips have to meet makes their heads take the for of a plus sign(+).

leaning back, he straightens his head and gives knox a smile.

"i'm never going to let you leave, remember?"

what he'd told him the night before.

"i want you in my hair, so to speak."

he used to feel so robotic, but texting knox and hanging out with him in person had loosened him up and sometimes he got the sayings right, sometimes he got them really very wrong. like when he thought fleek was an app and grindr was a dance move.

"besides, faster you eat, faster we can get the painkillers in, and get in the shower."

knox prescott

mkay. so much for sam getting tired of him. or maybe he is, but he's too kind to say it? no, that doesn't track either because sam only says what's on his mind. the boy really does want him here. he's just also tired. even after sleeping so late and sleeping strewn over knox the night before. 

it makes sense, just not to knox. 

"never's a long time," knox says and scrunches his nose, which, of course, doesn't end very well for him. the pain doesn't bother him so much though, because his lips are warm from that way-too-brief kiss. 

and forever's even longer, but that's how long it feels my fucking nose is going to hurt. 

he does perk up, visibly so (eyes lighting, brows raising, shoulders rising) when sam mentions the promise he'd nearly forgotten. his next bite isn't so dainty, and with only a couple more he manages to polish off the small breakfast. 

it's enough to satisfy the growling in his stomach, at least. 

"i coulda sworn that was just part of your story last night," he says with a grin. 

samuel carter

☉

"no, it wasn't part of a story. just a promise i intend to keep, made with miss eden."

well, sort of, but it made sense to him. she'd told sam to tell knox no every once in a while because knox didn't know what was good for him. sam took that to mean that he was in fact good for knox and knox needed some help accepting that via sam never letting him go.

he's special, it's fine.

setting his cup of coffee down, he offers knox his hands to help him stand up the first time.

"let's get you into the bathroom. the painkillers are in there, you can take them in the shower."

knox prescott

"she's just 'eden.' stop calling her miss. it makes her sound like an old lady. and then it makes me feel like i'm old." blah blah blah - what promise? he wracks his brain for anything they could have shared in front of him, but it must have been before she'd left, before she'd said whatever she had when he couldn't hear. 

but all these things that sam is offering him sound fan-fucking-tasting. he can finally get a buzz on to kill this awful pain and it'll probably make him sleepy enough where he can fall asleep with sam again. because the boy still looks like he needs it. 

"are you always like this in the morning?" he asks as sam helps him to his feet. 

samuel carter

☉

sam thought on that as he helped knox up, tilting his head to the side. was he what kind of way every morning? tired? he supposed.

"i usually wake up tired, yes. i had more energy yesterday until the incident with summer and your father. suppose i'm just drained because of the evening. you woke up frequently trying to scratch your stitches, and nearly picked a few out before i managed to stop you."

word vomit? no, he's just speaking his mind. which is now working properly because of the coffee.

he walks at knox' pace, not rushing him to the bathroom, but once they're there he's fishing for the ibuprofen and getting the right amount out of the small pill bottle.

knox prescott

oh. oh, that makes sense. not everyone has the infinite supply of energy he has. he has to be reminded of that sometimes. most aren't just out of bed and ready to go and seize the day, so to speak. he can't understand it and he's certainly never tried to, but existing around it is making him realize he might just have to get used to it. 

if this is going to be a thing. because partners. right. he'd said that last night, hadn't he? they should probably talk about that. 

but he's more interested in the sound of the pill bottle. he grips the counter for support while sam fishes it out and reads the instructions (bless his heart). he reaches to grab for it and then manages to read the label. 

and he makes a face. and again, it hurts. but this time, it seems like it hurts more because what's in the bottle is fucking ibuprofen. 800mg a pop, yes, but that's not going to send him off to la-la-land. it's not even going to get him off the ground. 

he wants release from this tension. he wants some distance from his body. he wants a goddamn opioid and he wants it now. 

his displeasure is clear on his face. he leans back against the counter and with his free hand hugs his ribs, trying not to sigh because that hurts too. 

"if she knew i was gonna be under supervision, she could have at least given me something that would help," he says sourly. 

samuel carter

☉

"supervision. i'll assume that's meant with no offense."

sam's not bothered, deciding knox is just angry and is taking it out in every angle he can find. fine, he'd let him pitch his fit while getting the shower ready. because he had seen this coming. while in his care, he also planned on saying no to the overuse of certain... things.

but they'd talk about that at a later date.

"it's better than nothing, isn't it?"

he's sure knox is going to argue, so he moves over and takes knox' pants by the waist and slips his fingers into the hem, fingers lingering along his abdomen.

"take the proper dose for me, please?"

knox prescott

he's simmering too much to say anything else. because he doesn't deserve anything more from eden. so if she was pissed, why couldn't she just prescribe what he wanted? let him dig his own grave? as she'd so eloquently put it. why dangle this in front of him like some shitty reminder that she doesn't give a rat's ass about him except not wanting him to die. 

a real friend, that one. 

"no, not really," he sniffs. he's content to sit there and sulk like the stubborn ass he is. his mind's already whirring on how to get sam to have his gardevoir pop him over to moro's, because technically she gave him those percocets and they're probably still on her couch and her rug, just waiting for him. 

sam comes closer and it is so painstakingly obvious what he's trying to do. and he wants to be mad, wants nothing more than to be mad, but he can't help himself. he sighs and he laughs and he holds a hand out for the pills.

"only because you asked so nicely," he says with a roll of his eyes.

samuel carter

☉

"also, eden didn't leave that, it's my own 'stash.'" he's got jokes people. "it's all i have that can kill the pain, and if you think you need more, you can go see a doctor and get a prescription written; i'll even pay for it."

coy smile, mischievous and sassy. he's rarely these things but he also rarely gets the chance to be. so he holds the pills up for knox to take, shifting the waistband down about an inch, then arching a pointed brow.

as if to say, 'any day now.'

knox prescott

so not only did she not leave him any real painkillers, she hadn't left him any at all. between the time he'd taken to text her, and their back and forth, you'd think she could have gra-no, don't think like that. she came fucking running for you, you asshole. as exhausted as she was, as much an emergency as it had been, why should he expect more? 

because he demands it, and it's easier to believe she hates him so much she wants him to suffer. 

he thinks he's funny, doesn't he? taunting him, knowing he won't go to the hospital. but what comes with the taunt is worth it and knox raises a brow, almost as if to say will you keep going if i don't?

but he does hurt, and as much as he hates to say it, the ibuprofen will soothe his aches and his twinges. and that's all he's getting right now. so he teethes the pill away from sam's fingers and swallows it.

he takes sam's hand and brushes his knuckles. "i'm done with my griping. were you serious about showering together?"

samuel carter

☉

when the pill's taken by knox' teeth sam finds himself with a whole new fetish. what else can knox do with his teeth?

"yes," as if it wasn't a big fucking deal he just bends, pulling knox' waistband with him, and then stands having left the waistband on the floor and taking the hem of knox' shirt into his fingertips next. "i'm serious about showering together."

he pulls a bit and then tilts his head.

"lift your arms?"

always a question, never a demand. perhaps one day his patience will run short. or perhaps he gets that from his mother.

knox prescott

oh, well there's that tension he'd been looking for. the one he'd thought had flown away like a caged bird, finally free forever. it's back and it's back with force, because sam is looking at him in that fixated Sam way. 

and knox is about to say something, poke just a bit more, see how far he can push him, when sam just

does

that. 

and knox's brain struggles to catch up with him. he's left speechless, which is not a predicament a prescott tends to find themselves in. 

i'm serious about showering together. CLEARLY.

he raises his arms, slowly, because stretching is about the meanest thing he can do to his ribs right now. they certainly make their lack of appreciation known and knox holds his breath, blinking like a deer caught in the headlights. 

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?

samuel carter

☉

knox is oddly quiet but sam chalks it up to him not being able to take pain well. he'd thought he'd hear more complaints at least. verbal complaints about the pain at least.

either way, he removes the shirt gently, being sure not to move knox anymore than he moved himself and carefully removing it before starting to strip himself.

shame? none. he's fine and comfortable in his skin, also, they can't shower with clothes on, that's literally where his brain went. but now that they're both bare and he's letting his eyes slide up knox' form, he's a bit nervous. then he finds knox' eyes, those deer in the headlight eyes, and he smiles a soft smile.

then, he offers knox his hand for stability, "ready?"

knox prescott