Sam knew you didn't get much sleep— or, at least, he assumed. You always had dark circles around your eyes, most of the time you just seemed drowsy and tired, and he'd always find you up reading books in the common room at ungodly hours of the morning. Not to mention that the walls were a bit thin, and he always heard you rustling around.

He was thoroughly concerned with literally everything about that, and he was set on helping you sleep a night through.

He'd asked you if staying in his room for a night would help at all, to which you kinda just shrugged and went back to whatever. By the end of the night, you had your head pressed to his chest, trying to fall asleep and failing restlessly.

"{{user}}? You okay?"

Sam asked softly, his calloused hand running through your hair while the other rubbed circles on your back.