Fic: Morning After
Title: Morning After
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Beta: Lindsay (nylana)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Fluff, touch of Angst
Word Count: 2,128
Characters/Pairings: April, Sam (April/Sam)
Summary: "How do you like your eggs?"
A/N: I got the idea for this all the way back when I actually wrote a!f 4; it was almost a scene in that fic, and then I decided not to add it. But, as most of these ideas do, it continued to plague me until I finally decided to write it as its own fic. Nothing too fancy, just think of it as a deleted scene XD Enjoy, bbs <3
April opens her eyes, blinking rapidly against the sunlight filling the room. She frowns slightly. Her bedroom isn't usually this bright in the mornings and she wonders dimly if Simon opened the curtains.
Then she remembers eating dinner with Sam the night before and sitting on the couch with him afterward, watching movies. She stares at the lifeless television and realizes she must have fallen asleep. She can't believe Sam just let her stay the night, passed out on his couch, and she shakes her head slightly as she sits up, running her hands through her hair to tame it.
She stands and stretches her arms over her head, staring curiously around the living room. She's only been to Sam's house a couple of times and never on her own like this.
Bookshelves cover every available inch of wall, filled top to bottom with more books than April thinks she's ever seen in one person's house, let alone in one person's living room. All of the spines look well worn, some with faded letters, and she has no doubt that Sam's read every single one. Even the section of wall beneath the windows is fronted with low bookshelves and she smiles as she walks towards them. There's a picture situated on top of one, obscured by the sheer curtains, and she carefully shifts the fabric aside to pick up the frame. The glass is slightly dusty and she runs her finger lightly over the front before peering at the picture. It's of a man and a woman, smiling happily at the camera. The man has light brown hair and wears glasses; the woman has blonde hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head, and a little boy of about six years old is in her lap, an oddly knowing smile on his face. April's smile widens when she realizes that the boy is Sam, and the man and woman are his parents.
She jumps when she hears a door close upstairs and carefully sets the picture frame down, her eyes passing over a clock set atop the other low bookshelf. Her stomach plummets to the vicinity of her feet when she sees the time.
"Oh, God," she moans, "I'm so late."
She moves back to the couch, yanking the blanket up off the floor and falling to her hands and knees to search for her shoes.
The last thing Sam expects to see when he comes downstairs is April's perfectly rounded rear end sticking out past the edge of the coffee table, but that's the very first thing he notices. She's on the floor, bent over and peering under the couch for something, and he takes a sharp breath as he watches her bend over further. He feels a low tingle in his stomach when her skirt rides up, revealing more of her smooth thighs and he shuts his eyes, gripping the banister tightly with one hand. It's bad enough that he's been dreaming about her and that he has to clean himself up when he wakes, like he's seventeen again. Conscious thoughts of that nature during the day can only lead to trouble and embarrassment.
Though her current position is not helping matters.
"April?" he says, clearing his throat and frowning curiously when she looks over her shoulder at him.
"It's almost ten o'clock, I can't believe I slept so late, I'm so late for work," she says, pushing her hair behind her ears as she leans down again to stare under the couch, even though she's already established that her shoes aren't there.
"April -"
"And I still have to go home, because I can't go to work wearing the same thing from yesterday," she continues, turning her attention to the space under the coffee table.
Sam stares at her, watching bemusedly as she rummages futilely under the low table before she pushes to her feet.
She runs a frustrated hand through her hair before looking up at him.
"Where the hell are my damn shoes?" she says, looking flustered.
"Probably still under the dining room table," Sam replies, the corner of his mouth rising.
"Oh! Right!"
April starts to turn away from him and he steps towards her, placing his hands on her shoulders and holding her in place.
"Sam -" she starts as she tries to pull away.
"April, calm down," he says, staring down his nose at her. "It's Saturday."
A small frown creases her brow as she looks at him. "Saturday?" she echoes vaguely.
"Saturday," he repeats, raising his eyebrows as he removes his hands from her shoulders.
"That - that would explain why you're still here," she murmurs, and then frowns slightly. "And why you're wearing pajamas," she adds, taking in his plaid pajama bottoms and faded t-shirt. She almost never sees Sam in anything other than a suit, and what he has on now is such a far deviation from the norm that she stares at him for a moment.
"You, um -" Sam begins and April looks up at him. He looks uncomfortable and he raises one hand to the back of his neck while he gestures at her with the other. "Your shirt," he finally says.
April looks down and feels a flush creep across her face as she notices her unbuttoned blouse. It's hanging open, revealing her camisole, which, in turn, is tugged down slightly, displaying the top edge of her bra.
She yanks her shirt closed, hastily buttoning it as Sam clears his throat and steps away from her. She vaguely remembers waking up hot in the middle of the night and unbuttoning her shirt, fanning herself with the halves until she'd cooled off enough to go back to sleep. She wishes she'd thought about it when she woke up so she could have avoided this incredibly awkward moment.
Shaking her head at herself she turns and heads into the dining room, retrieving her shoes from under the table before moving into the kitchen.
"I should - I should go," she says when she enters. "I think I've overstayed my welcome."
"Not at all," Sam replies, frowning slightly as he looks over at her. "Would you like some coffee?" he asks before she can say anything else.
She hesitates a moment and then nods.
"Have a seat," Sam says before turning away to open one of the cupboard doors.
April sets her shoes on the floor and settles onto a stool at the bar. A moment later Sam sets a cup of coffee in front of her, followed by a bowl of sugar and a small carton of cream. She smiles her thanks at him and the corner of his mouth lifts before he steps over to the refrigerator.
"How do you like your eggs?" he asks as he opens the door, his voice muffled slightly as he leans forward.
"Oh, Sam, you don't have to -"
Sam emerges from the refrigerator and the door snaps shut as he looks at her, two eggs cradled in each hand and a pack of bacon tucked under his arm.
"No, I don't have to, but I want to. And knowing the way you've been eating lately, I want to actually see you put something into your stomach so that I'll know you ate at least one meal today. Now." He lifts one eyebrow and holds his hands up. "How do you like your eggs?"
April can't suppress the smile that spreads across her face. "Scrambled is fine."
"Scrambled it is," he says with a quick nod as he steps over to the stove.
She offers to help but he tells her to stay put, telling her that she's still his guest and he'll not make her lift a finger. She rolls her eyes at him and he grins slightly as he cracks the first two eggs into a bowl.
He's tending to the bacon, prodding the strips gently with a fork, when he glances up at April and notices her staring sadly at her coffee cup. He realizes he gave her the black one with "Secret Service" printed in large white letters around the outside of the mug, and knows immediately that she's thinking about Simon.
Sam knows he doesn't stand a chance with her, knows that it's foolish to even entertain the notion; he imagines that she and Simon will be together until they're old and gray, and that suits him just fine. He's never seen two people who love each other as fiercely as they do, and knows with absolute certainty that they'll make it through this rough patch and come out stronger on the other side.
Her happiness means more to him than he could ever tell her. All he's ever wanted for her is to be happy, even if it's not with him, and the thought of anybody trying to come between her and Simon, anybody trying to destroy her happiness, makes his stomach twist.
Eventually Sam sets a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of her, drawing her attention from her cup, and he eyes her sternly.
"I want to see you eat every bit of that."
"And if I don't?" April says, the corners of her mouth curling into a grin.
"I will take it as a personal insult to my cooking and be highly offended."
April laughs and nods as she picks up her fork, scooping up a bite of eggs under Sam's watchful eye. She resists the urge to open her mouth after she swallows to show him that it's really gone and shakes her head when he turns away, grinning as she bites into a piece of bacon.
He joins her a moment later with his breakfast, his leg brushing against hers as he settles onto the stool beside her.
They talk about work and April laughs when Sam muses over how much longer Harrison will be able to put up with the Governor of New York before physically throttling the man.
"With everything that's going on, he's so concerned about that damn subway system, even though he's been told more than once that opening it now would be extraordinarily risky," Sam says, scowling as he sips his coffee.
April nods and swallows a bite of toast. "He's just lucky that nobody was actually in that section of the tunnel when it collapsed."
Sam hums in agreement. "The man's touched in the head, I think. His priorities seem a bit -"
"Fucked?" April finishes.
"To put it delicately," Sam says wryly, smirking when April grins.
She's in a better mood than she was the night before and it pleases him to see her cheerful, or at least smiling. He knows she's still upset about Simon, but just as he feels better knowing she's eaten something today, he feels better knowing she's smiled at least once. All the better that he was the one to make her do it.
True to his word, Sam makes sure April eats every bit of food on her plate, and once again declines her offer to help clean up.
"I really should go," April says and Sam nods this time, though she thinks he looks a bit disappointed.
He calls for a car and walks her to the door when it arrives, watching surreptitiously as she tucks her shirt into the waist of her skirt.
"Thanks, Sam," she says, smiling up at him as she slips her purse onto her shoulder. "For dinner, and breakfast, and the gracious use of your couch."
Sam chuckles softly. "Any time."
She stands on her toes, placing her hand on his shoulder as she touches a soft kiss to his cheek.
"I'll see you on Monday," she says, still smiling as she steps out of the house.
There's an agent waiting for her on the front porch steps and Sam watches them walk to the car, smiling and returning April's wave as she slips into the waiting vehicle.
He waits until the car disappears from sight before closing the door and a sigh of resignation slips from him as he moves back to the kitchen to clean up.
As he washes the dishes in the sink he tries not to think too much about April's lips on his cheek or of her unbuttoned shirt with that hint of lace peeking over the edge of her camisole. He definitely tries not to think of the way she looked when he came downstairs earlier, bent over in front of the couch.
He frowns contemplatively down at the dish towel in his hands before he sighs and tosses it onto the counter. He needs to stop thinking about April and get dressed; even though it's Saturday, he still has work to do.
He always has work to do.
Author: Mary (stillxmyxheart)
Beta: Lindsay (nylana)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Fluff, touch of Angst
Word Count: 2,128
Characters/Pairings: April, Sam (April/Sam)
Summary: "How do you like your eggs?"
A/N: I got the idea for this all the way back when I actually wrote a!f 4; it was almost a scene in that fic, and then I decided not to add it. But, as most of these ideas do, it continued to plague me until I finally decided to write it as its own fic. Nothing too fancy, just think of it as a deleted scene XD Enjoy, bbs <3
April opens her eyes, blinking rapidly against the sunlight filling the room. She frowns slightly. Her bedroom isn't usually this bright in the mornings and she wonders dimly if Simon opened the curtains.
Then she remembers eating dinner with Sam the night before and sitting on the couch with him afterward, watching movies. She stares at the lifeless television and realizes she must have fallen asleep. She can't believe Sam just let her stay the night, passed out on his couch, and she shakes her head slightly as she sits up, running her hands through her hair to tame it.
She stands and stretches her arms over her head, staring curiously around the living room. She's only been to Sam's house a couple of times and never on her own like this.
Bookshelves cover every available inch of wall, filled top to bottom with more books than April thinks she's ever seen in one person's house, let alone in one person's living room. All of the spines look well worn, some with faded letters, and she has no doubt that Sam's read every single one. Even the section of wall beneath the windows is fronted with low bookshelves and she smiles as she walks towards them. There's a picture situated on top of one, obscured by the sheer curtains, and she carefully shifts the fabric aside to pick up the frame. The glass is slightly dusty and she runs her finger lightly over the front before peering at the picture. It's of a man and a woman, smiling happily at the camera. The man has light brown hair and wears glasses; the woman has blonde hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head, and a little boy of about six years old is in her lap, an oddly knowing smile on his face. April's smile widens when she realizes that the boy is Sam, and the man and woman are his parents.
She jumps when she hears a door close upstairs and carefully sets the picture frame down, her eyes passing over a clock set atop the other low bookshelf. Her stomach plummets to the vicinity of her feet when she sees the time.
"Oh, God," she moans, "I'm so late."
She moves back to the couch, yanking the blanket up off the floor and falling to her hands and knees to search for her shoes.
The last thing Sam expects to see when he comes downstairs is April's perfectly rounded rear end sticking out past the edge of the coffee table, but that's the very first thing he notices. She's on the floor, bent over and peering under the couch for something, and he takes a sharp breath as he watches her bend over further. He feels a low tingle in his stomach when her skirt rides up, revealing more of her smooth thighs and he shuts his eyes, gripping the banister tightly with one hand. It's bad enough that he's been dreaming about her and that he has to clean himself up when he wakes, like he's seventeen again. Conscious thoughts of that nature during the day can only lead to trouble and embarrassment.
Though her current position is not helping matters.
"April?" he says, clearing his throat and frowning curiously when she looks over her shoulder at him.
"It's almost ten o'clock, I can't believe I slept so late, I'm so late for work," she says, pushing her hair behind her ears as she leans down again to stare under the couch, even though she's already established that her shoes aren't there.
"April -"
"And I still have to go home, because I can't go to work wearing the same thing from yesterday," she continues, turning her attention to the space under the coffee table.
Sam stares at her, watching bemusedly as she rummages futilely under the low table before she pushes to her feet.
She runs a frustrated hand through her hair before looking up at him.
"Where the hell are my damn shoes?" she says, looking flustered.
"Probably still under the dining room table," Sam replies, the corner of his mouth rising.
"Oh! Right!"
April starts to turn away from him and he steps towards her, placing his hands on her shoulders and holding her in place.
"Sam -" she starts as she tries to pull away.
"April, calm down," he says, staring down his nose at her. "It's Saturday."
A small frown creases her brow as she looks at him. "Saturday?" she echoes vaguely.
"Saturday," he repeats, raising his eyebrows as he removes his hands from her shoulders.
"That - that would explain why you're still here," she murmurs, and then frowns slightly. "And why you're wearing pajamas," she adds, taking in his plaid pajama bottoms and faded t-shirt. She almost never sees Sam in anything other than a suit, and what he has on now is such a far deviation from the norm that she stares at him for a moment.
"You, um -" Sam begins and April looks up at him. He looks uncomfortable and he raises one hand to the back of his neck while he gestures at her with the other. "Your shirt," he finally says.
April looks down and feels a flush creep across her face as she notices her unbuttoned blouse. It's hanging open, revealing her camisole, which, in turn, is tugged down slightly, displaying the top edge of her bra.
She yanks her shirt closed, hastily buttoning it as Sam clears his throat and steps away from her. She vaguely remembers waking up hot in the middle of the night and unbuttoning her shirt, fanning herself with the halves until she'd cooled off enough to go back to sleep. She wishes she'd thought about it when she woke up so she could have avoided this incredibly awkward moment.
Shaking her head at herself she turns and heads into the dining room, retrieving her shoes from under the table before moving into the kitchen.
"I should - I should go," she says when she enters. "I think I've overstayed my welcome."
"Not at all," Sam replies, frowning slightly as he looks over at her. "Would you like some coffee?" he asks before she can say anything else.
She hesitates a moment and then nods.
"Have a seat," Sam says before turning away to open one of the cupboard doors.
April sets her shoes on the floor and settles onto a stool at the bar. A moment later Sam sets a cup of coffee in front of her, followed by a bowl of sugar and a small carton of cream. She smiles her thanks at him and the corner of his mouth lifts before he steps over to the refrigerator.
"How do you like your eggs?" he asks as he opens the door, his voice muffled slightly as he leans forward.
"Oh, Sam, you don't have to -"
Sam emerges from the refrigerator and the door snaps shut as he looks at her, two eggs cradled in each hand and a pack of bacon tucked under his arm.
"No, I don't have to, but I want to. And knowing the way you've been eating lately, I want to actually see you put something into your stomach so that I'll know you ate at least one meal today. Now." He lifts one eyebrow and holds his hands up. "How do you like your eggs?"
April can't suppress the smile that spreads across her face. "Scrambled is fine."
"Scrambled it is," he says with a quick nod as he steps over to the stove.
She offers to help but he tells her to stay put, telling her that she's still his guest and he'll not make her lift a finger. She rolls her eyes at him and he grins slightly as he cracks the first two eggs into a bowl.
He's tending to the bacon, prodding the strips gently with a fork, when he glances up at April and notices her staring sadly at her coffee cup. He realizes he gave her the black one with "Secret Service" printed in large white letters around the outside of the mug, and knows immediately that she's thinking about Simon.
Sam knows he doesn't stand a chance with her, knows that it's foolish to even entertain the notion; he imagines that she and Simon will be together until they're old and gray, and that suits him just fine. He's never seen two people who love each other as fiercely as they do, and knows with absolute certainty that they'll make it through this rough patch and come out stronger on the other side.
Her happiness means more to him than he could ever tell her. All he's ever wanted for her is to be happy, even if it's not with him, and the thought of anybody trying to come between her and Simon, anybody trying to destroy her happiness, makes his stomach twist.
Eventually Sam sets a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of her, drawing her attention from her cup, and he eyes her sternly.
"I want to see you eat every bit of that."
"And if I don't?" April says, the corners of her mouth curling into a grin.
"I will take it as a personal insult to my cooking and be highly offended."
April laughs and nods as she picks up her fork, scooping up a bite of eggs under Sam's watchful eye. She resists the urge to open her mouth after she swallows to show him that it's really gone and shakes her head when he turns away, grinning as she bites into a piece of bacon.
He joins her a moment later with his breakfast, his leg brushing against hers as he settles onto the stool beside her.
They talk about work and April laughs when Sam muses over how much longer Harrison will be able to put up with the Governor of New York before physically throttling the man.
"With everything that's going on, he's so concerned about that damn subway system, even though he's been told more than once that opening it now would be extraordinarily risky," Sam says, scowling as he sips his coffee.
April nods and swallows a bite of toast. "He's just lucky that nobody was actually in that section of the tunnel when it collapsed."
Sam hums in agreement. "The man's touched in the head, I think. His priorities seem a bit -"
"Fucked?" April finishes.
"To put it delicately," Sam says wryly, smirking when April grins.
She's in a better mood than she was the night before and it pleases him to see her cheerful, or at least smiling. He knows she's still upset about Simon, but just as he feels better knowing she's eaten something today, he feels better knowing she's smiled at least once. All the better that he was the one to make her do it.
True to his word, Sam makes sure April eats every bit of food on her plate, and once again declines her offer to help clean up.
"I really should go," April says and Sam nods this time, though she thinks he looks a bit disappointed.
He calls for a car and walks her to the door when it arrives, watching surreptitiously as she tucks her shirt into the waist of her skirt.
"Thanks, Sam," she says, smiling up at him as she slips her purse onto her shoulder. "For dinner, and breakfast, and the gracious use of your couch."
Sam chuckles softly. "Any time."
She stands on her toes, placing her hand on his shoulder as she touches a soft kiss to his cheek.
"I'll see you on Monday," she says, still smiling as she steps out of the house.
There's an agent waiting for her on the front porch steps and Sam watches them walk to the car, smiling and returning April's wave as she slips into the waiting vehicle.
He waits until the car disappears from sight before closing the door and a sigh of resignation slips from him as he moves back to the kitchen to clean up.
As he washes the dishes in the sink he tries not to think too much about April's lips on his cheek or of her unbuttoned shirt with that hint of lace peeking over the edge of her camisole. He definitely tries not to think of the way she looked when he came downstairs earlier, bent over in front of the couch.
He frowns contemplatively down at the dish towel in his hands before he sighs and tosses it onto the counter. He needs to stop thinking about April and get dressed; even though it's Saturday, he still has work to do.
He always has work to do.