cryoethics
(x) The sour expression contorts a little, pulls at the irritated lines, but his posture doesn’t shift too much. Instead he waits for Steve to take the files, offers him one last look before rolling his eyes and letting him go with a little wave. This is a problem for later, and as irritated as he is (was), it isn’t something he’s going to get into before Steve needs to be in court. He’ll have to be level headed, or as much as he can be, for that— and it’s something James understands. So instead he just lets it go, for the time being, and lets Steve go, too. That doesn’t mean he’s entirely forgiven, because it’s not exactly in James’ nature to let things go that easily. Nor is he in the mood to be subtle, curled up on Steve’s side of the bed (as if they hadn’t both been his side, at one point), in his pajamas and watching Netflix on his phone.
Despite the rough start, the rest of Steve's day goes off without a hitch. Still, he's exhausted when he finally gets in the door, the sun long since gone down. He'd swung by the office after his hearing under the guise of finishing up some busy work; in actuality, he'd been trying to avoid James a little longer. Apologies aren't his strong suit, but he's not daft enough to miss that it was wrong of him to snap at his assistant, no matter the stress he was under. It's time to eat crow.
Working off his jacket, he makes his way into the bedroom, not even surprised to see James occupying his side of the bed. It sends a clear message about the kind of mood he's in, and Steve steels himself. "Hi," he begins awkwardly, not really looking over, shuffling instead into the open walk-in closet to change. "How was your d-- uhm," too late to cut himself off, he realizes the reflexive question is exactly the wrong thing to ask.