Fic: Build Me A Home, Sam/Gene
Title: Build Me A Home
Rating: White Cortina
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Wordcount: 576
Notes: For thesmallhobbit, as she sadly missed out on one of her presents for martianholiday. Happy Christmas, dear!
The other side of the bed was empty. Sam blinked and huffed out a breath through his nose, feeling faintly sick and head spinning. Cautiously he rolled over on his side, extracted his numb hand from beneath his pillow and ran the back of it over cool sheets. His thumb caught on a small stray strand of blond hair and he played with it for a while, winding it around.
Eventually his bladder insisted he get up. That done, he found his vest and socks and trousers and wandered downstairs, shivering a little at the chill on the kitchen tiles. He had expected to find Gene there, munching his way through a few dozen mince pies or something. Instead what got his attention was the bright, white, but nonetheless natural light streaming in through the window. Sam remembered a few tiny flakes falling on their way home from the pub, but...he looked out and saw a large snowman. Rubbed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. Had to be hallucinating again. It wasn't merely a large snowman. It was bloody enormous.
At that moment, thank god, Gene trudged into view from where he must have been crouching near the fence, out of Sam's field of vision through the relatively small window. He was carrying a shovel full of snow, which he deposited near the base of the snowman before jamming the shovel into the frozen ground and resting his hands on his hips, straightening out his back. Sam saw the white wisps of his breath bluster into the air. Gene rubbed the back of his gloved hand across the end of his nose then lowered it again, turning in a small arc, evidently choosing the next spot on the lawn to dig up snow from. As he turned, his eyes passed over and then gradually focused on the kitchen window. Sam pulled his face back from the glass with a start.
Gene started pulling off his gloves and heading for the back door. Sam hurried to let him in. Gene looked guilty and disappointed, stamping his boots on the step and scattering snow everywhere. "You weren't supposed to wake up yet. I was going to say some kids climbed over the fence and did it."
Sam shook his head in disbelief. "You...is this because...what I said in the pub last night? About moving around a lot when I was little and not always having a garden to build one in?"
Gene shrugged and gently pushed Sam back so he could get in and close the door behind him. As soon as it clicked shut Sam grabbed his lapels, shoved him back against it and kissed him, uncaring that the snow on Gene's coat would sting his bare arms or seep through his thin vest. Gene gave a surprised grunt but went with it, meeting Sam's tongue with his own and wrapping his arms around Sam's back.
Quite some time later, when Sam finally let him up for air, Gene sniffed and declared "I am entirely too old for snowmen. If you mention this -"
Sam cut him off, grinning. "Says the man who eats Sherbet Fountains for lunch."
Later that day, the snowman had acquired some new arms. One of the branches forked out at the end, and was positioned in such a way that it looked as though it were making a rude hand gesture to anyone who happened to peer out at it.
Rating: White Cortina
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Wordcount: 576
Notes: For thesmallhobbit, as she sadly missed out on one of her presents for martianholiday. Happy Christmas, dear!
The other side of the bed was empty. Sam blinked and huffed out a breath through his nose, feeling faintly sick and head spinning. Cautiously he rolled over on his side, extracted his numb hand from beneath his pillow and ran the back of it over cool sheets. His thumb caught on a small stray strand of blond hair and he played with it for a while, winding it around.
Eventually his bladder insisted he get up. That done, he found his vest and socks and trousers and wandered downstairs, shivering a little at the chill on the kitchen tiles. He had expected to find Gene there, munching his way through a few dozen mince pies or something. Instead what got his attention was the bright, white, but nonetheless natural light streaming in through the window. Sam remembered a few tiny flakes falling on their way home from the pub, but...he looked out and saw a large snowman. Rubbed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. Had to be hallucinating again. It wasn't merely a large snowman. It was bloody enormous.
At that moment, thank god, Gene trudged into view from where he must have been crouching near the fence, out of Sam's field of vision through the relatively small window. He was carrying a shovel full of snow, which he deposited near the base of the snowman before jamming the shovel into the frozen ground and resting his hands on his hips, straightening out his back. Sam saw the white wisps of his breath bluster into the air. Gene rubbed the back of his gloved hand across the end of his nose then lowered it again, turning in a small arc, evidently choosing the next spot on the lawn to dig up snow from. As he turned, his eyes passed over and then gradually focused on the kitchen window. Sam pulled his face back from the glass with a start.
Gene started pulling off his gloves and heading for the back door. Sam hurried to let him in. Gene looked guilty and disappointed, stamping his boots on the step and scattering snow everywhere. "You weren't supposed to wake up yet. I was going to say some kids climbed over the fence and did it."
Sam shook his head in disbelief. "You...is this because...what I said in the pub last night? About moving around a lot when I was little and not always having a garden to build one in?"
Gene shrugged and gently pushed Sam back so he could get in and close the door behind him. As soon as it clicked shut Sam grabbed his lapels, shoved him back against it and kissed him, uncaring that the snow on Gene's coat would sting his bare arms or seep through his thin vest. Gene gave a surprised grunt but went with it, meeting Sam's tongue with his own and wrapping his arms around Sam's back.
Quite some time later, when Sam finally let him up for air, Gene sniffed and declared "I am entirely too old for snowmen. If you mention this -"
Sam cut him off, grinning. "Says the man who eats Sherbet Fountains for lunch."
Later that day, the snowman had acquired some new arms. One of the branches forked out at the end, and was positioned in such a way that it looked as though it were making a rude hand gesture to anyone who happened to peer out at it.