"But you're sleeping in it," he points out, his voice quiet, noticing that Sam isn't turning around, arms open, leaning up to kiss him the way he had when they'd been on tour. [Usually, though, their showers were shared and long.] He can hear the chill in Sam's voice; fuck the AC, he's pretty sure the temperature in the room just dropped a couple of degrees. "I don't wanna - I can't, Sam. You know I can't do that. You know why I can't do it. You knew this when - this happened. I need to sleep, so, if you don't wanna sleep with me, then I'm gonna grab the sleeping bag and crash in the other room." [The room they're planning on converting into an office or studio or whatever, a spare room.] "Your call." He's tired and he feels like shit and it's even worse because he feels like an ass for hurting Sam.