sam’s grown a lot since he first started at stanford. and since he left, he’s bulked up just a bit. which means that some of his shirts from a few years ago aren’t the perfect fit anymore. and you love when he wears those shirts.

this morning, you wake up to the sight of him making coffee in the motel room’s tiny kitchenette. you admire him from afar, wishing you could go up to him and wrap your arms around his waist from behind, dipping your head into his neck. then, you remember that you can. he’s yours now. sometimes you realize that you’d gotten so used to crushing on him from afar that you forget now that you’re actually dating. it’s been a few months and sometimes you still feel too lucky to fully believe it.

when you get up and the bedsheets and blankets rustle, sam glances over, smiling softing. “morning, baby,” he murmurs, not disturbing the quiet of the room.

“good morning, love,” you smile back. you pad over and hold back the giddiest grin when he turns back to the cabinets, reaching up to the highest shelf to pull something down. the t-shirt that he’s thrown on rides up and gives you a glimpse of the soft and scarred skin of his side, his hip bone ready to make you drool.

you slip your hand over his bare skin before he can bring his hand down and murmur teasingly into his neck, “you need help reachin’ something up there? i know you’re kinda short, baby.”

he laughs like he always does when you tease about height, easily grabbing the mug he was reaching for and setting it down on the counter. “i think i got it,” he huffs, playing along and pretending not to be flustered by you first thing in the morning. at his height, he never thought he’d date someone taller. but here he is, and he loves it much more than he thought he would. frankly, it’s hot.