(Burn Notice) "Already in Progress" (1/1) (PG-13) (Sam/Madeline)
Title: Already In Progress
Parts: 1 of 1
Author: Missy AKA rise_your_dead
Fandom: Burn Notice
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Madeline, with some Michael
Rating/Category: PG-13; Romance/Adventure/Humor
Spoilers: General series canon to 3.5
Summary: Things in motion - the plot, the action, and Sam and Maddy’s relationship. Even though they don’t know it yet…
Notes/Warnings: Written in honor of whiski_sour’s birthday. Have a good one <3 <3 <3!
“We’re wearing sunglasses at two in the morning, Sam,” offered Madeline Westen as she crept into the pitch-black hotel room. “Either this is a heist or we’re auditioning for the Blues Brothers.”
Sam Axe gave her a pained smirk as he scanned he interior of the room. “It’s neither, Maddy. Just trust me.”
“You keep telling me to do that.”
“So?”
She smirked back. “I lost a little bit of faith when you made me hang from that awning.”
“It was only three feet up,” Sam chuckled. He winced, holding his bruised ribs. “Shit,” he muttered.
“Don’t curse.”
He masked a groan and looked up. “Please, please don’t turn into Mikey’s mom again.”
“Tough luck, ‘cause that’s who I am,” she untied her head scarf and reached for the doorknob. “What am I supposed to do?”’
“Let me take out Gonzales. You untie Mikey and get out of there.”
She bit her lower lip nervously. “Sam…”
He gave her a long, steady look. “I’m okay. And I’m gonna stay that way.”
She swallowed. “Okay.” He moved to the side, reaching up for the doorknob. “Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“This wasn’t how I imagined it.”
Sam nodded, biting back another groan of pain. “One…”
***
Madeline had risen that morning expecting to go to her bingo game, supervise Michael and Sam as they wallpapered her bathroom, and watch her stories. What she got was a porchfull of shattered glass, a threatening note, and a stolen TV set.
She had been forced to rouse a very grumpy Sam from Ms. Reynolds’ bed - he tried hard to make her stay home, but she’d refused to do so, and before he could raise much of a fight they two of them were at the warehouse district, trying to track down an informant who had any idea who had taken Michael.
It proved to be quite a task. One guy knew another guy, who knew someone - if Sam could do him a favor. That involved Madeline posing a French countess and Sam posing as her swain. They lifted a set of rubies from an illegal goods importer, turned them in to the guy who knew the guy who knew the guy and were led to a motel in Pensacola.
It was a surveillance job. Sam knew that they wouldn’t kill Michael - he was too valuable to them. All they could do was wait. Only problem was, there was nothing to do there, Sam said, but drink and screw.
They shared instead. Long conversations that sputtered out awkwardly. A bed - both of them fully clothed. The strange tension of the time, and the awful anticipation of waiting for news about Michael. It threatened to get to them both.
Turning to one another seemed like a natural progression of their feelings…neither of them caring that Sam smelled of gin, or that Madeline still felt the aftereffects of an attempt on her life that involved blowfish poison. They had sunk together into the sheets as if it were the easiest thing in the world to do, and afterwards didn’t question it - there wasn’t air enough to do so.
***
“…2…”
***
It was a set-up, had been one from the beginning. They woke up in a flaming hotel and had been forced to climb an improvised rope ladder down to the ground. Now they had two sides demanding trust and respect from them, neither of which Sam could afford to give, he said. In the past three days, Madeline had been poisoned, been shot at, had hung from an awning several feet above the ground and rode a speeding motorcycle at Sam’s behest. Finally, finally one of Sam’s buddies came forward with the right information.
***
And now they stood on the precipice of confrontation, just outside the motel room where Michael was being held captive. She braced herself for disappointment, knowing that Michael could very well be dead already.
She shook her head firmly. No, that was a scenario she refused to allow herself to contemplate. She felt one of Sam’s hands slip over to grab one of hers before grabbing his other gun from the waistband of his jeans.
Madeline sucked in a deep breath…
“3!”
Parts: 1 of 1
Author: Missy AKA rise_your_dead
Fandom: Burn Notice
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Madeline, with some Michael
Rating/Category: PG-13; Romance/Adventure/Humor
Spoilers: General series canon to 3.5
Summary: Things in motion - the plot, the action, and Sam and Maddy’s relationship. Even though they don’t know it yet…
Notes/Warnings: Written in honor of whiski_sour’s birthday. Have a good one <3 <3 <3!
“We’re wearing sunglasses at two in the morning, Sam,” offered Madeline Westen as she crept into the pitch-black hotel room. “Either this is a heist or we’re auditioning for the Blues Brothers.”
Sam Axe gave her a pained smirk as he scanned he interior of the room. “It’s neither, Maddy. Just trust me.”
“You keep telling me to do that.”
“So?”
She smirked back. “I lost a little bit of faith when you made me hang from that awning.”
“It was only three feet up,” Sam chuckled. He winced, holding his bruised ribs. “Shit,” he muttered.
“Don’t curse.”
He masked a groan and looked up. “Please, please don’t turn into Mikey’s mom again.”
“Tough luck, ‘cause that’s who I am,” she untied her head scarf and reached for the doorknob. “What am I supposed to do?”’
“Let me take out Gonzales. You untie Mikey and get out of there.”
She bit her lower lip nervously. “Sam…”
He gave her a long, steady look. “I’m okay. And I’m gonna stay that way.”
She swallowed. “Okay.” He moved to the side, reaching up for the doorknob. “Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“This wasn’t how I imagined it.”
Sam nodded, biting back another groan of pain. “One…”
***
Madeline had risen that morning expecting to go to her bingo game, supervise Michael and Sam as they wallpapered her bathroom, and watch her stories. What she got was a porchfull of shattered glass, a threatening note, and a stolen TV set.
She had been forced to rouse a very grumpy Sam from Ms. Reynolds’ bed - he tried hard to make her stay home, but she’d refused to do so, and before he could raise much of a fight they two of them were at the warehouse district, trying to track down an informant who had any idea who had taken Michael.
It proved to be quite a task. One guy knew another guy, who knew someone - if Sam could do him a favor. That involved Madeline posing a French countess and Sam posing as her swain. They lifted a set of rubies from an illegal goods importer, turned them in to the guy who knew the guy who knew the guy and were led to a motel in Pensacola.
It was a surveillance job. Sam knew that they wouldn’t kill Michael - he was too valuable to them. All they could do was wait. Only problem was, there was nothing to do there, Sam said, but drink and screw.
They shared instead. Long conversations that sputtered out awkwardly. A bed - both of them fully clothed. The strange tension of the time, and the awful anticipation of waiting for news about Michael. It threatened to get to them both.
Turning to one another seemed like a natural progression of their feelings…neither of them caring that Sam smelled of gin, or that Madeline still felt the aftereffects of an attempt on her life that involved blowfish poison. They had sunk together into the sheets as if it were the easiest thing in the world to do, and afterwards didn’t question it - there wasn’t air enough to do so.
***
“…2…”
***
It was a set-up, had been one from the beginning. They woke up in a flaming hotel and had been forced to climb an improvised rope ladder down to the ground. Now they had two sides demanding trust and respect from them, neither of which Sam could afford to give, he said. In the past three days, Madeline had been poisoned, been shot at, had hung from an awning several feet above the ground and rode a speeding motorcycle at Sam’s behest. Finally, finally one of Sam’s buddies came forward with the right information.
***
And now they stood on the precipice of confrontation, just outside the motel room where Michael was being held captive. She braced herself for disappointment, knowing that Michael could very well be dead already.
She shook her head firmly. No, that was a scenario she refused to allow herself to contemplate. She felt one of Sam’s hands slip over to grab one of hers before grabbing his other gun from the waistband of his jeans.
Madeline sucked in a deep breath…
“3!”