[This is Steve at his finest, Sam thinks, unable to prevent the little affectionate quirk of his lips. He scoops up the plates and takes them to the table, adds the bacon that had been keeping warm on the counter, pours the coffees into real mugs, their usual mugs, and gives Steve a prod in the side.]
Go on, sit your sweaty ass. At least you can eat my omelette while it's hot.
[It's routine, the gentle sniping, the mothering. Sam does it to Steve more often, but Steve's returned the favor more than once.]
no subject
Go on, sit your sweaty ass. At least you can eat my omelette while it's hot.
[It's routine, the gentle sniping, the mothering. Sam does it to Steve more often, but Steve's returned the favor more than once.]