If you love love, then love loves you too...
Title: Spend Forever for a Moment's Gain
Fandom: Life on Mars
Rating: PG
Word Count: 880+ words
Notes: Sam/Annie, in a manner of speaking. The title is from "Love Loves You Too", which is another Bruce Cockburn song (he's my title muse.)
Summary: Some people don’t know how much trouble they can brew.
I didn’t think it would be that much trouble. I was so consumed by what was in front of me, I couldn’t look beyond. It’s difficult to concentrate properly on things when your mind is focussed in one area. Of course, if that one area were something slightly more credible and a lot less Sam, it probably wouldn’t matter as much.
He gets me. Completely. Truly. Every time. I’m just about to walk away and go do what I’m supposed to be doing and he leans at the doorway, with his arms crossed and his watchful eyes and his small calm smile. And that’s it. I’m his. When Sam smiles, when he properly smiles, you can count on me needing to move away quickly, otherwise he’ll be smothered in WPC. But if you’d seen his smile, you would understand. It’s this boyish grin, full of light and life. It’s so real, completely unforced. And that’s probably why you only get to see it once in a blue moon.
He knows all of this, of course. He can tell I’d do most anything for him if he only asked. Not everything, mind. I have my limits. At least, I hope I do. But I’ve done things I never thought I would, just because he leaned in at the doorway and said my name in that quiet, low way of his. He did that thing, you see. That thing where he points his index fingers up by the side of his head and opens his eyes wider. I’m not some swooning teen, but he’s adorable when he does that. Oh, Sam. I only hope you continue to use your powers for good.
So, I said yes, I would go undercover for this case CID were working on. I’d go work at The Rubbin Stuff massage parlour on Hook street. I got the right clothes, I went for the interview. I put on much more make-up than I ever thought possible. The place was where businessmen could go to get more than a massage. Not just extra attention, either, but drugs as well. It was okay in the beginning. At first, all they wanted from me was massage, and I used to do that all the time for Neil. But then, they started trying to get me to provide those different kinds of services, and no matter how committed I am to my job, there was no way you’d get me you-knowing a random stranger. The more I said I didn’t want to do it, the more suspicious they got.
Eventually, Frankie must have figured out I was a copper. He started getting really pushy. He grabbed my shoulder and pushed me into the back room. So there I was, stuck in a situation where it was just me and him in this place, and he had a gun. I didn’t know if there was anyone on surveillance, or whether they’d even be able to tell anything was up.
As I stood there, gun raised at me, heartbeat racing, all I could think about was how this was it, I’d be dead. Now, I know that being in the police is dangerous work, that’s okay, I can handle that. But this, this was beyond the call of duty. And it was all Sam’s fault. Damn him for his insane charm and obsession with the future and his insistence on wearing that leather coat but being all about proper procedure. Sam and his nice manners and brown eyes and mesmerising mannerisms and confidences quietly spoken and kisses never taken.
At that moment, the Guv stormed into the room. Sam appeared from behind and shouted at me, telling me to get down to the ground. They both launched themselves at Frankie and wrestled the gun from his hand. And that was that, I was alive. When Sam pulled me tight, wrapped me up in those arms of his, and whispered my name against my neck, over and over, I wasn’t angry anymore. How could you be angry with that? I just held him back and closed my eyes. I imagined it was only us there, no-one else. And we were safe and comfortable and together.
I’m not sure who stepped away first. I think it was me. It’s usually me. Sam clings on like he’s never going to let go. More than once I’ve thought I’d just let him hold onto me like that forever, but then sense takes over and I never do. Because that’s the thing. You’ve got to keep Sam at arm’s length or you’ll never recover. It’s bad enough that he convinces me to risk my life on any weekday. Difficult that I stop whatever I’m doing to have a discussion about events which aren’t supposed to happen for three decades. Troubling that I listen to him at all about nothing being real and him wanting to go home. But if I got to the point where I couldn’t step away from Sam, life wouldn’t just be bad, difficult or troubling, it would be impossible. You can’t love someone like Sam, it’ll destroy you. I can’t love Sam. It will destroy me.
I’m constantly worried that one day I’ll get to the point where I’ll take destruction if it means I have him.
Fandom: Life on Mars
Rating: PG
Word Count: 880+ words
Notes: Sam/Annie, in a manner of speaking. The title is from "Love Loves You Too", which is another Bruce Cockburn song (he's my title muse.)
Summary: Some people don’t know how much trouble they can brew.
I didn’t think it would be that much trouble. I was so consumed by what was in front of me, I couldn’t look beyond. It’s difficult to concentrate properly on things when your mind is focussed in one area. Of course, if that one area were something slightly more credible and a lot less Sam, it probably wouldn’t matter as much.
He gets me. Completely. Truly. Every time. I’m just about to walk away and go do what I’m supposed to be doing and he leans at the doorway, with his arms crossed and his watchful eyes and his small calm smile. And that’s it. I’m his. When Sam smiles, when he properly smiles, you can count on me needing to move away quickly, otherwise he’ll be smothered in WPC. But if you’d seen his smile, you would understand. It’s this boyish grin, full of light and life. It’s so real, completely unforced. And that’s probably why you only get to see it once in a blue moon.
He knows all of this, of course. He can tell I’d do most anything for him if he only asked. Not everything, mind. I have my limits. At least, I hope I do. But I’ve done things I never thought I would, just because he leaned in at the doorway and said my name in that quiet, low way of his. He did that thing, you see. That thing where he points his index fingers up by the side of his head and opens his eyes wider. I’m not some swooning teen, but he’s adorable when he does that. Oh, Sam. I only hope you continue to use your powers for good.
So, I said yes, I would go undercover for this case CID were working on. I’d go work at The Rubbin Stuff massage parlour on Hook street. I got the right clothes, I went for the interview. I put on much more make-up than I ever thought possible. The place was where businessmen could go to get more than a massage. Not just extra attention, either, but drugs as well. It was okay in the beginning. At first, all they wanted from me was massage, and I used to do that all the time for Neil. But then, they started trying to get me to provide those different kinds of services, and no matter how committed I am to my job, there was no way you’d get me you-knowing a random stranger. The more I said I didn’t want to do it, the more suspicious they got.
Eventually, Frankie must have figured out I was a copper. He started getting really pushy. He grabbed my shoulder and pushed me into the back room. So there I was, stuck in a situation where it was just me and him in this place, and he had a gun. I didn’t know if there was anyone on surveillance, or whether they’d even be able to tell anything was up.
As I stood there, gun raised at me, heartbeat racing, all I could think about was how this was it, I’d be dead. Now, I know that being in the police is dangerous work, that’s okay, I can handle that. But this, this was beyond the call of duty. And it was all Sam’s fault. Damn him for his insane charm and obsession with the future and his insistence on wearing that leather coat but being all about proper procedure. Sam and his nice manners and brown eyes and mesmerising mannerisms and confidences quietly spoken and kisses never taken.
At that moment, the Guv stormed into the room. Sam appeared from behind and shouted at me, telling me to get down to the ground. They both launched themselves at Frankie and wrestled the gun from his hand. And that was that, I was alive. When Sam pulled me tight, wrapped me up in those arms of his, and whispered my name against my neck, over and over, I wasn’t angry anymore. How could you be angry with that? I just held him back and closed my eyes. I imagined it was only us there, no-one else. And we were safe and comfortable and together.
I’m not sure who stepped away first. I think it was me. It’s usually me. Sam clings on like he’s never going to let go. More than once I’ve thought I’d just let him hold onto me like that forever, but then sense takes over and I never do. Because that’s the thing. You’ve got to keep Sam at arm’s length or you’ll never recover. It’s bad enough that he convinces me to risk my life on any weekday. Difficult that I stop whatever I’m doing to have a discussion about events which aren’t supposed to happen for three decades. Troubling that I listen to him at all about nothing being real and him wanting to go home. But if I got to the point where I couldn’t step away from Sam, life wouldn’t just be bad, difficult or troubling, it would be impossible. You can’t love someone like Sam, it’ll destroy you. I can’t love Sam. It will destroy me.
I’m constantly worried that one day I’ll get to the point where I’ll take destruction if it means I have him.