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Sam woke up on the floor with every muscle in his body screaming in pain.
He stared at the ceiling, trying to will himself into moving, but he hurt. His arms hurt. His chest hurt. His feet hurt. His ass hurt, and not in the fun way.
Beside him, Bucky groaned. “Oh my God, what happened last night?”
“We moved,” Sam said. “It was a mistake.”
“Was there alcohol involved?”
“I don’t think so.” Sam flexed his toes and wanted to cry. “There should’ve been.”
The side of Bucky’s head lifted into Sam’s field of vision. “Where’s the bed?”
“I don’t remember. I think Steve moved it in.”
Bucky’s head dropped back down to the pallet. “Fuck. We’ll never find it.”
“It’s a two-bedroom house. There ain’t that many places to hide it.”
“It’s Steve,” Bucky reminded him.
Okay, yeah, that was a point. Steve might have been their best friend, but Steve was also a little shit who would definitely find a way to hide a queen-sized mattress and box spring somewhere they’d have to hunt for it. Then again, they would do the same to him.
Bucky sighed. “Just tell me you moved the coffee maker.”
“I don’t remember. It’s all a blur.” Sam rubbed his eyes. “I had nightmares about moving boxes.”
“I had a dream I was chased by packing tape,” Bucky said.
Sam barked out a laugh. “You’re shitting me.”
“I wish I was.” Bucky patted Sam’s shoulder. “I’ll go make coffee in a minute.”
Coffee sounded great, but Sam didn’t want to move…well, ever. With great effort, he rolled on his side and flopped his arm over Bucky’s chest. “Or we could go back to sleep.”
“Don’t you think we should try to find the mattress first?”
Sam shrugged and closed his eyes. “Eh, this is fine. Unless you want to stand up.”
Bucky groaned and pulled Sam closer. “Never mind. We’re staying right here.”
Sam grinned. “That’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”