Thankfully, James didn't make a big deal of Fisher getting his things back. Standing patiently, Fisher watched James roll over to get the stuff... and then noticed that the sheet was falling off the man's body and he wasn't wearing anything underneath. Staring for just a second, Fisher blushed then looked away, staring up at the ceiling and biting the inside of his bottom lip. Either this was just how James slept, or he had done it solely to make Fisher uncomfortable. Regardless, Fisher was uncomfortable. He didn't make a habit of looking at naked men, but right now he was making considerable effort not to look at one. The amount of restraint it was taking made him slightly nervous. What had happened with James was supposed to be a fluke, a one time thing, not something he'd need to make effort to avoid repeat.
When his peripheral vision caught that James had stopped moving, Fisher let himself glance down so he could take the bag of stuff. Except James wasn't handing it to him. There it was, sitting on his chest, like it was on display. He would have to take it off James' chest if he wanted it, which meant touching him. Swallowing, then giving James a look of annoyance that wasn't completely genuine, Fisher reached out and gently took the bag with a few unsure fingers, moving slowly but not lingering. As soon as he could, he stashed it in his pants pocket. "How about my underwear?" he asked, his gaze looking back up the the ceiling. "Unless you're keeping those for nostalgic purposes."