Work Text:
Sam is sitting on his couch, watching the game with a bowl of popcorn settled in his lap. He hears footsteps behind him and soon enough, Steve is vaulting over the couch and plopping down next to him.
“On your left,” Steve says before stealing some popcorn from Sam’s bowl and shoving it into his mouth.
Sam rolls his eyes and turns towards Steve giving him a quick peck on the lips. Steve smirks and cups Sam’s face before leaning forward and giving him a proper kiss.
Man, popcorn has never tasted better.
*
“To the left, to the left, everything you own in a box to the left.”
Sam groans in frustration as Steve continues singing and attempting to dance along to the song in the middle of their bedroom. He turns to look at Sam before giving the other man a smirk and a flirtatious wink. Sam groans again, grabbing a pillow and using it to cover his ears.
He should have never introduced Steve to Beyoncé.
*
Steve runs past Sam, only pausing to place a wet kiss on the other man’s cheek. “On your left,” he whispers.
Sam screeches in frustration. Steve laughs and easily jogs out of the other man’s reach.
*
“I swear to every God, Rogers, if you say any variation of “on your left," I will knock your teeth in.”
Steve remains silent and Sam nods, turning back to his magazine, hoping that they’ll finally be done with this shit.
Sam should have known it wasn’t over, for Steve starts giggling—actually giggling—a few minutes later. He glances at the other man and frowns, watching him raise his hands to try to mask his laughter. Sam lowers his magazine.
“What’s so funny?” he asks cautiously.
Steve continues giggling to himself for a few minutes before lowering his hands and whispering, “On your right.”
Sam actually has to get up and leave the room for a minute, he is that done.