d:

it could be anywhere really, in misa’s room, sam’s apartment, toff’s outside lounge chairs, wenny’s living room, woody’s porch, once sam had permission to outwardly touch misa, he took full advantage. not that misa particularly minded, he liked having sam on him, wether that was his hand on his lower back, on his arm, over his shoulders or when he could get away with it, under his shirt, palm flat against the faint ridges of his abs.

sometimes, in the privacy of sam’s apartment, lips sore and faces flushed, sam tucks himself into misa’s neck. he doesn’t really do anything, he’ll occasionally press his lips against the tendon in misa’s neck, nip at the skin until it blooms red and it will have misa glare at sam from across the locker room when zack and graf poke and prod at all the other light bruises littered around his body.

sam’s not small either, with at least two inches and fifteen pounds on misa, he enjoys towering over misa, likes pinning him down when he knows misa won’t be able to buck him off, but when they get like this, soft and gooey like chocolate left out in the sun, sam makes himself curl into misa, head on misa’s stomach and arms around his waist, half burrowed into misa.

sometimes misa feels like he doesn’t know what to do with the way sam gives himself over so easily, gives the more misa takes, surrounds himself until all he knows is misa’s name.

sam doesn’t mind what others think when they’re all gathered on someone’s hotel room, sam sat on the edge of the bed and misa standing beside him. he can’t have that can he? can’t have misa standing when there’s a perfectly good spot for him to sit. he scoots back until his back is against the headboard and tugs misa in between his legs. it takes misa a second to understand and he crawls into the space sam made for him.

will watches them, the way sam immediately wraps his arms around misa and pulls him close, how misa wiggles a bit to get comfortable before immediately chirping delly about something. delly whips around, eyebrow raised and says getting comfortable there mees? and misa shrugs, a small grin on his face as sam tip his head towards the tv dude, toff just scored three on you what are you doing?

will turns back to the tv the same time delly has, indignant at toff who laughs. misa and sam’s presence is still heavy, and he chances another glance. their hands are intertwined on misa’s stomach, misa’s eyes half-lidded and sam’s chin on the top of his head.

the touching doesn’t stop even as the season continues, if anything, it’s harder for them to keep their hands off of each other and not in a sexually charged way that will and mack have. sam always has a hand on misa, anywhere that he can, it’s better if it’s direct skin contact. sam’s hand is heavy and warm, even when the weather changes and it becomes hotter the closer they get to the middle of the year, misa can’t—won’t—shake sam off.

you two are worse than willmack toff mutters and sam lets out an offended noise, covering misa’s—who is happily content on sam’s lap—ears and says at least we’re not eye-fucking each other which is fair because they still haven’t exactly figured out their shit, but at least they did.

misa’s room is bare, they started moving his things out to sam’s a few days after they got knocked out of the first round. mack is having his training camp again and they had already agreed to show up for the entirety of it with their own secret agenda of getting the two idiots together.

misa helps complete the missing pieces of sam’s apartment: silly knickknack, mugs with dumb sayings, soft throw pillows and thick blankets. he takes half of sam’s closet, the left side of the bed, by the wall because sam for some reason, couldn’t sleep if misa slept near the edge.

if i had a nickel for every time that mack held two fish, i’d have two nickels