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“You’re going bald.”
Sam remarked blatantly one night, as he lay face-to-face with Rafe on silk sheets, the rain pouring outside the seamless glass panel windows and the bustling of New York city still audible through the glass despite the late hour.
Sam trailed the tip of his finger over a small gash of healed flesh resting in Rafe’s hairline.
He could feel the indignant huff Rafe let out at his comment, the warm flush of air ghosting over his left palm.
“I’m not the one with the reducing hairline.” Rafe snapped.
He flinched from Sam's touch for a second, before slipping back into his original position, facing Sam, his cheek resting on one elbow tucked under his head.
Allowing the other man to resume stroking the almost unnoticeable scar on the top of his forehead.
Sam merely smirked, “Yeah? I’m still handsome as hell though.”
Rafe rolled his eyes, then fixed Sam with a deadpan stare.
”I’m not going to entertain you by responding to that narcissistic comment.”
The older Drake moved his finger lower to gently bop the tip of Rafe’s nose with a grin, receiving an annoyed “tsk” in response.
But neither of them said more.
Sam scooted closer to Rafe, their foreheads almost touching now, breath mingling with the others’.
Rafe closed his eyes, and let out a soft sigh through his nose.
As if by instinct, he tilted his head up, and Sam tilted his a little to the side, the crooks of their nasions fitting together in place almost perfectly.
Slipping an arm around Rafe’s shoulders, Sam pulled Rafe closer into his embrace.
“So you wanna tell me how you got that scar?” Sam murmured, low and soft.
Not in a demanding tone, just a curious one.
Rafe had almost drifted off to sleep, so he grumbled something unintelligible, going quiet again as Sam stroked a palm over the expanse of his back in slow, soothing strokes.
“Why does it matter?” Rafe mumbled, the last syllables coming out in another tired sigh.
“Cause I wanna know?” Sam countered, chuckling low in his throat.
The rumbling in Sam’s chest as he chuckled annoyed Rafe.
“C’mon, I’ve been locked up in a cement shithole for thirteen years. I wanna hear your stories.”
Why did he always do that? Bring up Panama?
The pang of guilt Rafe felt whenever Sam mentioned Panama never ceased to feel like a punch in the gut.
And Rafe always found himself relenting whenever Sam did that.
Not that he was pleased about always being guilt-tripped into pleasing Sam’s whims, but the truth was that he really couldn’t deny Sam anything.
“A dig in Bali.” Rafe began quietly, his eyes now open, Sam’s stubbled chin and lips that always held a half-smile the only things within his vision.
The older male continued stroking Rafe’s back.
”Mm hmm?” Sam encouraged when Rafe didn’t continue.
“…Part of the ceiling in a cave collapsed. A loose rock fell on my head.”
Then Sam stilled and stopped stroking, prompting Rafe to lean back and gaze up at him.
There was this serious, unreadable expression on Sam’s face. Which only made Rafe frown again.
“What?” Rafe questioned.
But Sam didn’t answer, only continued to fix Rafe with that look.
“Look, if you’re going to get all mushy on me again, you know I don’t fall for that shit.”
He slipped one free arm inbetween their bodies, pushing himself away from Sam.
But Sam was having none of that. He stiffened his hold on the smaller brunette, tugging him close again.
“...That’s kinda lame.” Sam finally said.
And Rafe quirked an eyebrow in question, “Excuse me?”
“I mean, I was expecting something like an exotic Balinese monkey throwing a rock at you and hitting you in the face but a falling piece of cave ceiling? That’s so…Unexciting.”
He let out a hearty laugh at that, chuckling as he pulled Rafe in with both of his arms now, nuzzling against his face as he prepared to lean in for a peck on the lips, only to have Rafe cup a hand over his mouth and half-heartedly push him away.
“You’re an ass.”
Their noses were touching again, Sam tenderly pressing kisses to the underside of Rafe’s fingers.
“And we both know that’s not the only lovable asset I have.” Sam replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.
His words were muffled by Rafe’s hand, but Rafe still understood nonetheless.
Pulling Rafe’s hand down from his mouth with his left hand, Sam brought it to his lips and gave each protruding knuckle a peck.
“Asset? Get it?”
The smaller male felt an immediate urge to whack Sam’s face with the pillow he was currently lying on.
'You’re incorrigible.' Rafe thought to himself, watching Sam's face contort with glee as he chuckled at his own ass joke.
'But god help me if that isn't one of the reasons why I love you.'
“Just shut up, Samuel.”
As always, telling Sam to shut up never works. But a kiss always does.