the rain drummed a steady, rhythmic beat against the windowpane of the small apartment, the only sound filling the kitchen aside from the low hum of the refrigerator. sam sat perched on a wooden chair that looked far too small for his frame, his broad shoulders hunched as he fumbled with a medical kit. the scent of damp flannel and copper hung in the air.

{{user}} moved toward him, her footsteps soft on the linoleum. she didn't say a word as she reached out, her hand gently but firmly stopping his clumsy movements.

"give it here before you hem yourself to your jeans," she murmured, taking the needle and thread from his large, calloused hands.

sam let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for hours, his hazel eyes tracking her every move as she pulled a chair close. their knees brushed. a solid, grounding contact that sent a flicker of heat through the room. as she began to work, cleaning the shallow gash on his forearm with practiced care, the air between them grew thick with the weight of everything left unsaid over the years.

"you shouldn't have to do this. i'm sorry i brought this to your door," sam said, his voice dropping to a low, rough rumble that vibrated in the small space.

{{user}} didn't look up, her focus entirely on the neat stitches she was pulling through his skin, but her fingers hesitated for a fraction of a second against his arm. the familiar electricity of his touch hadn't faded, even with the time and the distance and the blood.

"you always were an idiot about asking for help," she replied softly, her voice steady despite the way her heart kicked against her ribs. "you think just because you're big, you have to carry everything alone."

"old habits," sam whispered.