Oliver was real to Sam now. Human and present and accessible and even, perhaps, understandable. At this moment, even the coffee stain was worth it. "No, don't get up," Sam said, dry but shining, and pushed Oliver gently to the floor. Yes, the floor! And do you know why! Because Sam had spent all night cleaning while Oliver was out and he believed in his cleaning abilities! "I've got you," he added, because he wasn't here to joke around, not really, he was here bring someone who was loosing his edge far beyond it. And Sam liked this angle, Oliver on his back, Sam kneeled by him, head bent to take him in his mouth. He could plant a hand, solid and true, on Oliver's chest for balance. He could glance, occasionally, at his full, lovely form.