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When Sam woke up, the first things he felt were pressure on his chest and two arms wrapped tightly around his waist.
It was still dark, and the room was lit only by the pale, silvery glow of the moon filtering through the sheer curtains.
Once his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, Sam couldn’t help but smile fondly when his gaze fell on the dark, tousled hair resting just above his heart.
Almost instinctively, he raised his hand and gently slipped his fingers through the silky strands, brushing the hair away from Bucky’s forehead.
Leaning in slightly, he brushed his lips against the top of the other man’s head and whispered, "Bucky."
Only a grunt came in reply.
So he pressed on, with a hint of teasing in his voice, "Bucky, you can't keep sleeping like this. It can’t be comfortable. Wouldn’t you rather roll over and sleep on a real pillow?"
Bucky stirred and turned his head just enough to meet Sam’s gaze. His eyes were heavy with sleep and barely open.
"No," he grumbled hoarsely. "No, I'm fine right here."
Sam rolled his eyes and, before he could protest further, Bucky buried his face in the crook of Sam’s neck, sighing with contentment. He snuggled even closer, adjusting his position so that their bodies were pressed tightly together and every last bit of space between them was erased.
Sam let out a soft sigh and dropped his arm to wrap it firmly around Bucky’s shoulders. He pulled Bucky just a little bit closer, as if that were even possible and resumed running his fingers through his lover’s hair, savoring the soothing sensation of that simple gesture.
A faint smile crossed his face in the darkness, and his eyelids grew heavy once more. After all, if Bucky felt good this way, so did he. He closed his eyes and let himself be lulled by the warmth of the man in his arms. He sank back into the calm, perfect peace of the night.