Ficlet: Bare
[Note: This was inspired by a post on RBConfessions on tumblr.
Let's pretend for a moment that Andy and Sam were forced to decontaminate in 4.05.]
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They both stared at Howard for a second, mouths dropped open in shocked silence.
He just stared back, an expression of mixed amusement and impatience on his face. "I'm not kidding. You're gonna wanna get out of those clothes. You can change into these." He dropped the two sets of scrubs into a pile on the table, and both Sam and Andy followed the hazmat suit with their eyes as it waddled out of the room.
It took a moment or two, but eventually, they dragged their eyes back to the table between them.
Sam moved first, stretching out a hand to snag the larger pair of scrubs. He slid them an inch or two closer to himself.
"I guess we'd better..." he began, his eyes bouncing up to meet Andy's for an instant, and then back down to the fabric in his hand.
She nodded automatically, grabbing for her own, wishing for one ridiculous second that she'd had the foresight to shave her legs when she'd showered that morning. That's what she got for sleeping in.
"Yeah," Any croaked, then swallowed hard. "Yeah, guess so." Except she wasn't looking away. He was spun a quarter-turn away from her and she watched as he stripped off his vest. The long-sleeved shirt came next; he reached over his head and grabbed it, dragging it off in a couple quick tugs. She only got a glimpse of the expanse of his bare chest as he tossed it into a pile on the table top.
Sam glanced over, caught her staring, and Andy spun around, the blue polyester flying like a flag clutched in her fist.
Her scrubs fell to the floor as she reached up and started fumbling with her gear belt.
"Andy," he said quietly from behind her. "It's okay."
"No!" she blurted out far too quickly. "I didn't mean..." She inhaled deeply through her nose and clenched her fingers around the belt for a moment, summoning up a little composure. "I'm just in shock or something. Traumatic situation, and all," she added with a laugh, hoping she came off casual and not totally humiliated. Though she doubted it.
She only got silence in return. Or silence and a deep sigh.
The belt went on the table and she went to work on her vest, then her boots, getting the laces free with minimal effort. She kicked them off as her fingers started flicking buttons open on her uniform. Andy cast one quick glance over her shoulder, and saw that Sam had turned away.
It was just wrong that she felt a little disappointed by that. Maybe even a little insulted and annoyed. Okay, more annoyed that she was still staring at him when he clearly didn't care that she was less than six feet away, stripping her clothing off. She looked away.
The button-down came off, tossed over her shoulder towards the table, and the pants hit the ground with a soft click of button against tile and then the undershirt came off. Gooseflesh rose up on her bare arms and thighs, chased across the flat expanse of her stomach and she took one last deep breath as she stretched her arms back and unhooked her bra.
Okay, another thing she would have changed? Maybe she would have worn her nice underwear. Or at least something that wasn't over a year old, something he hadn't seen at least half a dozen times. She shook her head slightly, and tucked one arm around her breasts as she gathered the boring black cotton underwire into one hand and reached straight back to set it on the table.
When her hand collided with another, she told herself it was only surprise that made her gasp. The garment fell from her hand onto the middle of the table as she spun halfway around, forearm still pressed against herself with a modicum of modesty.
Sam had his hand stretched across the table as well, fingers clenched tightly in the half-folded pants still sitting on the table. His eyes were locked onto hers, mouth agape. As she saw his Adam's apple bob in a nervous swallow, his eyes drifted downward.
Andy's eyebrows shot up.
"Do you mind?" she snapped before she whirled back around.
This time, the muttered "sorry" came from Sam's side, and she waited until she heard him shuffling before she let the scrub top fall down over her shoulders and float down to cover her stomach.
Behind her, Sam was clearing his throat, muttering a curse under his breath.
Andy smiled.
Not so unaffected after all.
Let's pretend for a moment that Andy and Sam were forced to decontaminate in 4.05.]
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They both stared at Howard for a second, mouths dropped open in shocked silence.
He just stared back, an expression of mixed amusement and impatience on his face. "I'm not kidding. You're gonna wanna get out of those clothes. You can change into these." He dropped the two sets of scrubs into a pile on the table, and both Sam and Andy followed the hazmat suit with their eyes as it waddled out of the room.
It took a moment or two, but eventually, they dragged their eyes back to the table between them.
Sam moved first, stretching out a hand to snag the larger pair of scrubs. He slid them an inch or two closer to himself.
"I guess we'd better..." he began, his eyes bouncing up to meet Andy's for an instant, and then back down to the fabric in his hand.
She nodded automatically, grabbing for her own, wishing for one ridiculous second that she'd had the foresight to shave her legs when she'd showered that morning. That's what she got for sleeping in.
"Yeah," Any croaked, then swallowed hard. "Yeah, guess so." Except she wasn't looking away. He was spun a quarter-turn away from her and she watched as he stripped off his vest. The long-sleeved shirt came next; he reached over his head and grabbed it, dragging it off in a couple quick tugs. She only got a glimpse of the expanse of his bare chest as he tossed it into a pile on the table top.
Sam glanced over, caught her staring, and Andy spun around, the blue polyester flying like a flag clutched in her fist.
Her scrubs fell to the floor as she reached up and started fumbling with her gear belt.
"Andy," he said quietly from behind her. "It's okay."
"No!" she blurted out far too quickly. "I didn't mean..." She inhaled deeply through her nose and clenched her fingers around the belt for a moment, summoning up a little composure. "I'm just in shock or something. Traumatic situation, and all," she added with a laugh, hoping she came off casual and not totally humiliated. Though she doubted it.
She only got silence in return. Or silence and a deep sigh.
The belt went on the table and she went to work on her vest, then her boots, getting the laces free with minimal effort. She kicked them off as her fingers started flicking buttons open on her uniform. Andy cast one quick glance over her shoulder, and saw that Sam had turned away.
It was just wrong that she felt a little disappointed by that. Maybe even a little insulted and annoyed. Okay, more annoyed that she was still staring at him when he clearly didn't care that she was less than six feet away, stripping her clothing off. She looked away.
The button-down came off, tossed over her shoulder towards the table, and the pants hit the ground with a soft click of button against tile and then the undershirt came off. Gooseflesh rose up on her bare arms and thighs, chased across the flat expanse of her stomach and she took one last deep breath as she stretched her arms back and unhooked her bra.
Okay, another thing she would have changed? Maybe she would have worn her nice underwear. Or at least something that wasn't over a year old, something he hadn't seen at least half a dozen times. She shook her head slightly, and tucked one arm around her breasts as she gathered the boring black cotton underwire into one hand and reached straight back to set it on the table.
When her hand collided with another, she told herself it was only surprise that made her gasp. The garment fell from her hand onto the middle of the table as she spun halfway around, forearm still pressed against herself with a modicum of modesty.
Sam had his hand stretched across the table as well, fingers clenched tightly in the half-folded pants still sitting on the table. His eyes were locked onto hers, mouth agape. As she saw his Adam's apple bob in a nervous swallow, his eyes drifted downward.
Andy's eyebrows shot up.
"Do you mind?" she snapped before she whirled back around.
This time, the muttered "sorry" came from Sam's side, and she waited until she heard him shuffling before she let the scrub top fall down over her shoulders and float down to cover her stomach.
Behind her, Sam was clearing his throat, muttering a curse under his breath.
Andy smiled.
Not so unaffected after all.