Work Text:
The few clouds adorning the sky are fluffy white, and don’t do much to shield the sun from touching everything not under a shade. Sam remembers that Shadyshide, true to its name, rarely had weather this good — probably due to all the pollution the industries down in Sunnyvale illegally dumped on their neighboring town — but that too had changed. She couldn’t help but think about all the changes in the town, stuck in a bus for the last few hours of her trip from Dayton Airport to her hometown.
She comes by once a year for the holidays. If she was being honest, she wouldn’t come back at all had she not mended her relationship with her dad. She was surprised when he had supported her when she had had her final showdown with her mother; feeble and demure as he had been during his marriage to Sam’s mother, she had expected everything but a call from him hours after offering her acceptance and a place to always come back to, if she wished.
She had her qualms about him never standing up to her mother whenever she would throw slurs her way, in a twisted attempt to make her less of a lesbian, but she mostly lets that sit in the past, which is why she lets him ruffle her hair like she’s a kid, and not nearly thirty, when he picks her up at the bus stop. She hugs him lightly, letting him pick up her luggage and carry to his car, waving her off as she complains about it, just for show.
His house was still a little unfamiliar to her – she had been in college for 3 years already when she cut her mom off – but the smell of her old books in the room he fixed for her worked like a charm to bring her comfort. The few things that she had kept from her childhood and teenage years that had been stored in the house in Sunnyvale had been brought over, and Sam appreciates her dad just that much for trying to put it all back in place like she remembered.
-Hurry up, kiddo! I made lasagna! - Sam hears her dad bellow from the living room just as she’s back in her room from showering. She can’t help the groan she lets out, bless his heart but if there’s one thing Leroy Fraser can’t do is prepare an edible meal. The blonde woman shudders thinking about the horrors that awaits her for dinner as she goes for her dresser, decided to dig up an old beaten up hoodie she could be comfortable in.
She finds it in a drawer, royal blue, gray and white, worn and with the Shadyside High logo discolored. It hits her in some type of way, but it’s only the first. Digging up the hoodie unearthed the box resting underneath: the one that had been decorated with magazines cut offs, and that guarded the ghost that Sam had yet to shake from her back. This one definitely hits her right in the chest, but she’s not surprised by how much emotion that shoebox alone can evoke still. Regardless, she decides she’ll deal with it; she’s an adult now, and she owns it to herself. She owns it to-
-Sam! The food’s getting cold!
-I’m coming!
Just now right now.
x x
-Hey dad. Yeah, I just got off. Uh, no, there’s no need, I’m getting a rental. Dad, no, you know I’m always the one who ends up doing grocery store runs and I’m not driving my old car only for it to die in the middle of nowhere again. - She looked over at the lady patiently waiting for her to end her call to finish filling up the form to rent a car. - Do I need to remind you the time you and Josh got stuck on the 71 because you thought it’d be funny to pick me up on the old chevy? Yeah. Ok, ok I gotta go now, bye!
-Sorry about that. - Deena mumbled towards the woman, who only smiled politely and continued to punch in her information in the computer. Thankfully, not long after, Deena was already driving away from Port Columbus. That was the second time in ten years she’d done the trip – because of logistics, mostly – and the road was boring just like she expected her destination to be.
There was a time Deena would’ve liked to lit Shadyside on fire and salt the earth behind her; that wasn’t her anymore. She didn’t particularly like the place, and she thought she never would, but now, a decade later she saw the town like it was an old classmate she could barely remember the name or face of: it held no power over her anymore.
As she drives through its streets, she feels glad most families seem to be doing significantly better than they once did when she was a teen. The streets seem infinitely cleaner, the houses more well kept and sturdier, and if she was to drive by, Shadyside High would look like an entire different building than she once knew. As she parks by her dad’s house – her old house – she tries to let nostalgia come and go without repressing it, but not dwelling too much on it. Luckily, she doesn’t have to do either, because she’s barely turned her car off before her dad comes barreling through the front door.
Deena would be lying if she didn’t admit she had felt bitter when he started to go back to being the man he was before her mother had passed away. She was off at college, had finally been able to escape Shadyside’s clutches, and on her breaks she’d go back to him cooking full meals and only drinking iced tea as he watched tv. And helping Josh with school too. She had been so angry and bitter that he couldn’t be that for her that those first few years had been as tense as they were when he was an alcoholic. Ultimately, Deena accepted that it was preferable that he got better than not at all.
Now, he receives her with a crushing hug that she reciprocates with a pat on his back and a muffled – Dad, I’m gonna choke.
He laughs and starts filling her in about what Josh has been up to, as if she hadn’t heard all of it from her brother himself, and is so distracted in making comments about everything – the rental, that she looked skinnier, that Josh is too skinny as well, that he only ends up carrying half of her luggage in.
Deena doesn’t mind. At the end of the day she prefers his animated talk about his construction buddies than his dazed mumbling, half drunk half asleep on the loveseat that was her mom’s favorite piece of furniture. She engages in his conversation and she thinks coming by Shadyside might be okay after all.
x x
It’s been between 5 to 10 minutes that Sam has stared unseeingly at the bottles of seasoning at Walmart’s – another sign of Shadyside’s growth. Grab n’ Bag doesn’t reign alone anymore – spices aisle. She’d agreed last night to help her dad prepare Mexican food for dinner, as a result of the disaster that the lasagna had ended up being.
Sam had fully taken advantage of going on a grocery run as an excuse to escape the unpleasant path her conversation with her dad was going towards to. He had the morning shift at the factory on that Saturday, so Sam had agreed to pick him up after he was done so they could have lunch together.
It had been going well – Sam’s proud of her job, even if it’s not what everything she dreamed of. She started working in the Chicago Tribune as a secretary, which meant she was a glorified barista, because all she did was pick up coffee for her boss, a woman that ruefully reminded Sam of her mother in more ways than one. She had climbed the ladder a bit after a couple of years though, and now she wrote for their lifestyle section; she wasn’t crazy about it, but it paid well enough and left her with enough time to write her book.
She had been telling her father so, when he then asked.
- So...are you planning on settling down anytime soon? Was it- was it Melissa the name of that-
- Dad...- Sam groaned, cutting him off. For one, she had ended things with Melissa over 10 months ago, and for two, she really didn’t want to talk about it.
- Aw come on, buttercup. - She flinches at the nickname she once adored when she was little, but lets it slide. - I know maybe it’s...awkward talking about this with your old man-
-It is.
-And I’m not um...a specialist on your, uh your lifestyle – Sam groaned again – but I’d really have more peace of mind knowing you have someone who has your back, sweetheart. That will take care of you when you can’t.
Any words of rebuttal died on the blonde’s throat after that. She knew her dad hadn’t meant it to sound the way it did, but the words washed over Sam like ice water. She had been virtually alone, all these years. She had made friends, a few good ones here and there, but she didn’t have her person, that one person who’d weather storms for her, and she for them. She’d been aware of that, and it was not like she was dying – she was 27 for god’s sake – but it was a rude awakening to have her dad point that out.
- I – She cleared her throat when the word caught on it. - You know, dad, I just realized we don’t have the ingredients to make enchiladas. Can I take the truck?
The man furrowed his brows, clearly caught by surprise by the sudden change in subject, but nodded and dug the keys out of his pocket, tossing them to her, and barely getting out a “drive safe” before Sam was out the diner’s door.
The blonde sighed, trying to concentrate on which brand of tomato paste she should pick. Her dad had poked at a can of worms she didn’t yet felt ready to open, and now she was having a hard time picking a simple can of processed food. Sam chewed on her lip in annoyance as she darted her hand on a random can, accidentally knocking it off the shelf. The can, not satisfied in embarrassing Sam by falling noisily at the floor, also rolled away from her, only to stop at the side of a boot.
Sam’s heart did this weird thing where it pumped like it had just been thrown inside a washing machine, because the woman just realizing a can of tomato paste had rolled towards her, was Deena.
And she looked so, so beautiful.
She’d always been beautiful, Sam always knew that, from the moment they became friends at recess in middle school, but this Deena had grown even more beautiful. With all the baby fat gone, her jaw was even more defined, as well as cheekbones. She stood in the same aloof way she did as a teen, but with an added air of maturity that made her that much more attractive.
And now she was looking at Sam.
A second was all it took for her eyes to light up in recognition, and the following seconds that she waited for a reaction were Sam’s longest yet. Then, the other girl smiled warmly.
-Sam? ‘That really you? - Deena asked, the slight smile on her face not wavering.
Sam was not expecting this. She didn’t know what to expect actually, because it had been a few years she stopped picturing what would be like to see Deena again. As far as Sam knew, the last memory Deena had of Sam, was when she threw a shoe-box with all that was left of their relationship in it at Sam’s feet, and left, face tear-stained. But then again, that was ten years ago.
-Uh, you bet. - Sam blurted out, brain seemingly malfunctioning. She cursed herself inwardly, but stopped when Deena laughed lightly at her response. - It’s been years. - She added, like a moron.
Deena’s laughter tapered out into a small smile, and the way she answered almost sounded fond, but Sam wouldn’t trust her own judgment right now. - Yeah. A decade.
Silence followed, and Sam desperately wracked her brain for something. She found no logical reason for it, but she didn’t want for Deena to go just yet.
-So, you’re home for the holidays too? - Sam asked, hoping against hope the laugh she let out before speaking didn't sound as nervous as she thought it did.
Get it together, woman.
Deena turned her body towards her, and took a few steps closer, now fully into the conversation.
-Mhmm. I’m picking up some stuff for dad’s famous biscuits. Josh’s coming over in a couple days, so we’re preparing.
-Right, Randall Johnson’s biscuits, I remember those. - Sam recalled fondly, smile matching Deena’s.
The atmosphere turned strange after Sam’s words. For the first time Deena’s smile turned polite only, and confusion furrowed her eyebrows.
-Well, I gotta get going. - The brunette said, handing the can that had fallen to Sam, then stepping back.
-Uh, yeah I gotta pick some more...stuff.
-Right. Bye, Sam.
-Bye, Deena.
Deena held her gaze for longer than any stranger would think it was appropriate, then she nodded slightly, turning around and walking away.
And that sight felt like a punch to Sam’s stomach. Again, for the last image of Deena to have in her head be her leaving – that hurt more than Sam expected, this long after everything had happened. Sam didn’t overthink, she knew she didn’t want this to be it.
-Hey, wait. - She hurried towards Deena, pleasantly surprised at the brunette turning around immediately at her call. Maybe Sam was crazy, but she even looked a little embarrassed by it. - Wait, please. I was thinking- would you want to get coffee- to catch up? We could get coffee sometime and catch up? - She stumbled out, but then again that was forgotten as soon as Deena chuckled at her, eyes lit up scanning Sam’s face. She stared at the blonde for a second, and Sam would give all the pennies in the world to know just what she was thinking.
- Sure. - Deena said, a laugh soon following when Sam couldn’t help but smile wide, her dimples popping. - I’m staying at my dad’s house, it’s the same phone as before.
- I’m staying at my dad’s too. It’s- well it’s a different phone number, uh…
Deena raised an amused eyebrow at Sam’s blunder, letting out a soft snort. - Okay. Call me about coffee later, then.
- I will.
- See you around.
-Yeah, see you soon.
x x
If you knew where to look, and stared at the ceiling just enough, the outline of the glue left behind, faintly shaped into stars, could be seen clearly against the faded pastel orange of the paint. Deena had glued them on with Sam’s and Kate’s help in second grade, back when outer space was her thing and she dreamed of being an astronaut. Her eight year old self didn’t know how much math she’d have to know in order to accomplish that, clearly.
Deena didn’t remove them because she grew up and glow in the dark stars were for children, or any reason like that; the glue simply had started to dry away, the glow in the dark plastic was falling off more and more often before she decided it was time to take it all down.
She didn’t ask for Kate’s or Sam’s help to remove them. Kate, because she didn’t want to ask for her time when it was already so scarce between all the extra-curricular, baby-sitting and being a first-generation trying to make it out of Shadyside. And she didn’t ask Sam because by that time they were- Well.
She knows how that story went.
Which is why Deena’s been lying on her bed for nearly 30 minutes, still wrapped in a towel after she’d taken a shower, getting ready to meet Sam for coffee in an hour or so.
Sam had called her that same day in the evening, at first having to talk to Randall, who picked up the phone, and who had looked like he’d just been dropped into the Twilight zone, or at least brought back 15 years in time.
-It’s...it’s Sam. - He said as he offered the phone to Deena, clearly confused. She raised a brow, channeling a bit of her teenage attitude, and he raised his hands in mock-surrender, but she saw him in her peripheral vision still staring at her all the way back to the living room.
Sam had been shy but eager, and asked Deena to get coffee the very next day, at a coffee place that was obviously new since neither of them knew of it. Deena had been happy to agree, and she could hear the same in Sam’s voice as they said goodbyes.
And now, just short of an hour to go meet her high school girlfriend, she was plagued by doubt.
It felt like things should be complicated between them, but she felt like how things ended in the past wouldn’t be enough reason for that. Yes, the way things ended between them had been ugly, but then again that was so long ago. They were teenagers, and they had more factors against them than in favor and they’d both made mistakes.
And Deena couldn’t deny that what she felt when she saw Sam again was happiness.
She felt a number of other complicated things too, but what she felt the most was happy. She was happy that Sam looked well and healthy, happy that from what she said she had escaped Shadyside too, and wasn’t living a white picket-fence facade in Sunnyvale like her mother had wanted.
(Well, Deena didn’t know that for sure, but Sam hadn’t been accompanied by 2.5 kids with weasel little faces so similar to what the men in Sunnyvale looked like, so Deena assumed she’d gotten off free of that nightmarish future.)
But what was her place in Deena’s life now?
She asks herself that as she drives the rental towards their meeting place. Sam had been so important to her once, leaving a mark so deep in Deena it took her years to stop looking for her in the women she dated through college. Deena had been angry at her, then angry at herself, and then helpless, because she’d wanted for Sam to be in her life until they grew old, and she lost that. Deena lost it and grew used to it, and then accepted it. And now Sam’s around again, and Deena doesn’t know what to make of it.
-Deena, hey! - The blonde woman greets her as soon as she enters the little coffee shop, rising from the booth she had been waiting for Deena. - I got us a table.
-Remembered I like booth tables better did you? - Deena teased good-naturally, to which Sam flushed lightly, nodding along.
Deena settled in place, and if she wasn’t used to women approaching her she’d feel disconcerted by how Sam’s eyes had yet to look away from her. She had forgotten how it felt to be under her blue gaze; it had been Sam that initiated the change in their platonic relationship into a romantic one after all. She was brave in her shyness and the way she looked at Deena left very little to be guessed.
-So, is this place’s coffee any good? - Deena asked, not wishing for the atmosphere to become charged. Sam lifted a shoulder, pushing the menu that was near her elbow towards Deena.
-No idea. You like coffee now?
-Meh, not really. I’ll drink it because you know how new yorkers are. You’ll be shunned if you don’t consider that bean water your lord and savior.
The corners of Sam’s mouth stretch in a smile. - You live in New York?
Deena is momentarily caught off-guard. Sam’s company is so familiar still that she slipped into comfortable talk not a minute into it. She forgets Sam doesn’t know a third of her life.
-Yeah, I’m a music producer there. - Sam nods and looks expectantly at Deena, so she reveals more. - I left after graduation to work there for a while so I could pay for tuition. I majored in Music in a community college there and then it was one gig here and there until a friend introduced me to a label.
-That’s great Deena. I knew you had talent for music. - Sam replied, and it was so genuine Deena nearly blushed. The blonde woman continued staring at her, a glint in her eye.
-What?
Sam’s grin widened. - I can see you fitting right in New York.
Deena chuckles, realizing Sam’s way of teasing her is still the same. - Can you, now.
-Oh, I can. I bet you can punch a car hood and yell “Hey, I’m walking here!” just like a native.
The brunette laughs, and Sam delights in the sound. A really weird mix of nostalgia, longing and joy fills her chest, and she realizes she’s missed Deena’s laugh terribly.
-Well, Miss Congeniality, where do you live now? Maybe Canada, where everyone says sorry to a chair when they bump into it?
Sam gasps in mock offense. - Wow, really. I did that once. - She snorts at Deena’s joke and shakes her head. - Chicago, actually. I enrolled in Chicago State’s English program, because that was the furthest college I got accepted into, so that was the indisputable choice.
Deena sobers up a little, realizing the implications. - I bet your mom was a real fan of that.
Sam snorts again, but this time it’s accompanied by an eye roll. - She wouldn’t leave it alone. She’d say college was a den of perversion.
-Sounds like her. I can’t imagine her being happy that you’re still there.
-I wouldn’t know. - She shrugged for effect. - I cut her off.
Deena knew it was probably impolite but she couldn’t help her jaw from falling open. Sam was brave in many ways but her mom always knew how to make her so small. Knowing she cut off that toxic relationship blankets her surprise with a sudden wave of pride that warms her chest.
-Wow. Well, I know it probably means nothing, but I’m proud of you.
Sam shakes her head and her eyes fill of something Deena can’t quite decipher. - It means something. Thank you.
And she gazes at Deena in that way of hers that now unsettles the brunette. Luckily, a waitress approaches.
-Um ma'am, you’ve been occupying this table for nearly an hour so you’ll either have to leave or order something.
Both of them then hurry to order, disconcerted by the ordeal. Deena hadn’t even realized that much time had passed, and she takes advantage of the moment to look at Sam without her noticing; she doesn’t know how long for, but for a moment Sam looks back and smiles, before finish her order off. Deena decides then to enjoy whatever her time with Sam brings, and leaves the thinking of consequences for later.
x x
Between their dads both having work events before Christmas, they don’t have anything better to do but lounging around the house by themselves. So they go around Shadyside, reminiscing about what’s still the same and commenting on what’s new.
The day prior, they had spent hours at the coffee shop, staying for so long the waitress offered them their evening menu that consisted of alcoholic coffee beverages. They thought that that was amusing, and they both ordered a hot white Russian – which they found awful, trash talking the thing but finishing it between stories.
She had taken Sam home, a genuine smile reaching her eyes when she thanked the blonde for the company. “Thanks for agreeing to see me.” Sam had said in that sincere way that still disarmed Deena, and the brunette was glad the street lamplight barely illuminated the interior of the car, because she keeps having moments where she’s reminded of how much Sam meant to her, and she doesn’t want to feel this transparent.
Deena gives an excuse that she should be back home for dinner, so Sam nods and waves her goodbye, entering her dad’s house, and the brunette lets out a breath stuck on her chest. She tells herself she’s going to avoid finding herself in moments like these with Sam, but the next day she’s calling the blonde, asking if she’s up for a tour.
After driving around for a while they end up at the Shadyside Mall, where they’re surprised to find out has gained two extra floors, and has had the Hanging Tree removed, that now has a proper memorial place.
-You heard about the Goode’s scandal? - Sam asks while they’re browsing the bookstore, looking for absurd book titles.
-Uh, not really, I left town a little before it all blew up, I think. - Deena retorts, right before she smirks at a book cover and turns it around for Sam to read “The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat and Other Clinical Tales” as the title.
-Typical men behavior. - Sam deadpans and Deena snorts loudly, covering her mouth to muffle her laugh. Sam chuckles at the dirty look Deena throws her, stepping further into the corridor of books. - So, Goode scandal. Dad told me they found centuries of the Goode family being involved in corruption and other crimes. Money laundering, embezzlement, extortion, murder, you name it.
Deena shakes her head. Of course that fake squeaky-clean family was neck deep in all this shit. - Of course.
-They were pretty much scamming and leeching Shadyside of anything good the town could get. They said that even that kid’s tale about the witch was forged by a Goode ancestor. He accused her of witchcraft to steal her family’s land or something.
-No way.
-Yeah. - Sam furrowed her brow and smiled down to a shelf before showing the book to Deena, “The Sex Lives of Cannibals”.
The brunette nods her head solemnly. - Puts a whole another spin on “eating someone out”.
Deena can’t hold back a grin when Sam throws her head back in laughter, leaning on the shelf as her shoulders shake. She feels silly for still feeling like the coolest person in the room for making Sam laugh, but can’t really help it, so she just enjoys the smiling eyes and dimples on display.
Sam’s laugh slowly dies out, her blue eyes finds Deena’s brown ones, and the gravity around them seems to shift, as it does when Sam looks at Deena like this.
Like she’d like nothing more than to stare at her forever, hear her voice and share laughter with her.
Deena clears her throat and looks away when it all becomes too much, and is thankful when her eyes fall on a mildly interesting title. She hums and picks up “How to Ride a Velocipede: Straddle, Then Paddle and Skedaddle”.
The blonde seems to need an extra second to blink the fog away, before she pays attention. She presses her lips inward in a little smile that Deena knows it means she’s got an awful joke coming.
-The Amish are going too far with those sex analogies.
-Sam! - The brunette chuckles incredulously, but can’t hide her amusement. - That’s so bad.
-Hey!
-The Amish probably don’t even know velocipedes. That’s more of a catholic analogy.
Sam chokes a laugh and throws a playful elbow on Deena’s side. - And I’m bad!
They banter all the way out of the bookstore, and more as they stroll around the mall. At some point they have lunch, and Deena has to bite her cheek and distract herself by looking out the glass panel when Sam gets her order right.
Deena has never been a mall person – as far as she knows neither is Sam – but she’s having one of the best days she’s had lately. The reason rests entirely on the person she’s sharing the day with, she knows, because she even makes department stores bearable.
But Shadyside being Shadyside, it just has to throw them a curve-ball, so as they’re browsing the men’s apparel aisle, Peter Allen, that Peter, accompanied by a woman around his age and a toddler, enter the opposite end of it. Deena’s gaze accidentally crosses his, he seems to recognize her almost immediately, as he looks at Sam beside her, and from afar she can see his jaw harden.
Oh, boy.
Deena scratches the back of her neck, because even though she cares more about mice excrement than whatever’s going on with Peter, she’s not particularly fond of staying in his presence either.
When she looks at Sam, she’s already looking at Deena, nose scrunched and looking apologetic.
-Wanna take a look at the sunglasses?
The brunette nods at her, and they head for a different section of the store. Of course, it doesn’t simply end like that, and after a few minutes of trying on a few of the ugliest pairs they could find, a shadow walks quickly by them, but they can hear the low bark clear enough.
-Dykes.
Deena’s hand instinctively tightens around the pair of glasses she’s holding.
For so long she’d been angry, and anger was, at least for a while, a good way to let out her frustration and fear of bigotry. As she got older, Deena realized that anger only got you so far, then she mostly felt sadness. When she found a community in New York, she channeled what was once anger in being an active party in the community. Now, she mostly felt tired when faced with bigotry. It’d been a while she’d been unfortunate to face a personal attack though, so her reaction couldn’t be helped.
She looks at Sam, to gauge her reaction, but the blonde had clocked in on the way Deena’s hand clenched, so her eyebrows furrowed deeply, before she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Deena was not prepared to what came next.
-Peter, hey! - Sam exclaims in the fakest, most clipped tone Deena had ever seen her talk in. Even Peter was startled by it. - So many years. Hey, where’d you get that beer gut? Was it from watching on tv all the professional football leagues you couldn’t get into?
Deena slaps her hand against her mouth when she made this strangled cackling sound, and has to keep it there when she saw color rapidly rise from Peter’s neck and spread across his face. Humiliated, he disappeared among the closest clothing racks.
A beat of silence.
-Ooh, scathing. - Deena pipes in gleefully, but deflates when Sam returned her comment with a small quirk of lips that didn’t reach her eyes.
They continued walking around the mall for a while, but it was obvious that Sam’s mood had dampened. She’d lost most of her anxious tics from teenage-hood, but hunching her shoulders when she was in a tough spot seemed to have remained. As Deena became more frustrated with her inability to improve Sam’s mood with light jokes, she decided for the truth. She had an inkling of what was on Sam’s mind, and whatever they decided to make of this in the end – a brief encounter of former friends or a reestablishing of contact between them – Sam had offered only sincerity until then, so Deena decided to out-rightly ask her for it.
The sun was setting as they walked through the scarcely occupied parking lot, so, in silence, the brunette wiped at the hood of her car and hopped onto it, inviting Sam on it with a nod. They watched the sunset in peaceful silence, as Deena waited for Sam’s shoulders to release a little of their tension before speaking.
-What’s on your mind? - Sam closed her eyes and took a deep breath at the words. She opened them again, clear blue under orange light. - Something’s wrong. You know you can tell me.
Sam bites her lip in silent contemplation, turning towards the setting sun. - You know, I saw you. When you left. - When Deena looks confused she elaborates. - I heard you were leaving. So I don’t know, I rode my bike to your house. Two blocks before getting there I saw you drive by. Then I never saw you again.
The admission shocks Deena. It reaches her heart and spreads.
-I spent years imagining how it would be like to have a chance to apologize to you, and never had I thought it’d be after Peter fucking Allen called us a slur on Macy’s.
-But I can’t wait for the perfect moment because it’ll never come anyway, and I should apologize. You deserve an apology.
-Sam. - Deena says in a tone too soft for it to be chastising, but that’s her intent. - We were just kids.
-Doesn’t make how I hurt you any less real. - Sam shoots back, before she twists her mouth in frustration. - I ran away and pretended like I wasn’t responsible for all the mess our relationship became. You needed me and I left. I let people that didn’t really give a fuck about me dictate my life and pushed the one person who cared about the real me away. I’m sorry, Deena.
-I forgive you. - Sam looks a bit confused by the immediate response when she finally turns to look back at Deena. It’s the brunette’s turn to look away; she can’t be under Sam’s gaze as she shares a bit of her truth, otherwise she fears she’ll lay everything at her feet.
-Look...I made mistakes too. Everything was so shitty… And you were the one good thing I had. I was so terrified of losing you that you asked me for time to sort things through and I didn’t even give you that.
-Deena, no, come on. - The brunette doesn’t have to turn to the blonde to know she’s frowning.
-Who the fuck knows what kind of shit your mom could’ve put you through if you went against her when you didn’t have a safety net? When I got to New York and met other people from the community there...The amount of homeless kids that rely on those organizations to have food? Shelter? It’s fucking heart-breaking. - She feels a knot on her throat, but powers through – I never wanted that to be you, Sam. Ever.
Deena only realizes she let a tear fall when Sam brushes it away, holding her face tenderly.
-Hey, hey. We’re okay. - She hears Sam say, and Deena blinks away from the memories, the agitation inside her chest mollifying as the blonde caresses her cheek. -We’re okay. - She can’t look away from her eyes, and she doesn’t think she imagines the tension that starts to grow between them.
This time, it’s Sam who retreats, pulling her hand to rest on her lap. She stares at her lap for a moment before sending Deena a quirk of lips.
-Look at us now. Taking Chicago and New York by storm.
Deena studies Sam’s face for a second, then buys into her joke. - Oh yeah. Me with my one-bedroom and you with that unpublished book. We’ll be on Forbes in no time.
-A one-bedroom in Manhattan. Plus, I’m looking into new jobs that’ll give me more time for my book.
Deena smiles at her fondly. That’s one of the things she always loved about Sam: she always tried to see the good side of things.
-Come, let’s get into the car before we get frost-bite. Your nose’s red like Rudolph’s already.
-Wow. So rude today.
Deena smirks over the open door of the car. - That’s how they like me.
Sam snorts, followed by a mocking tone as she gets comfortable on the heated seat. - I bet.
-Who’s being rude now?
Sam sends a smirk of her own at Deena, and they both chuckle as they pull out of the parking lot, shoulders lighter than when they had arrived.
x x
For the next few days they go back to being Sam and Deena. It’s the same as it always was, but it’s different. She and Deena have grown and matured, that’s for sure, but being around each other coaxes out of them a childlike joy that they both thought it’d been lost. Their banter is tad more caustic, a product of adult life, but still keeps both of them on their toes, and it becomes a game of which of them will cave first.
They pay Simon a visit at Grab n’ Bag, where he’s now manager. He’s over the moon to be able to see the two of them, and they spend the afternoon on his office, cracking jokes and laughing at all the absurd stories Simon has to tell about crazy shoppers.
It’s not all roses for Sam, because of course it isn’t, with the way he keeps throwing her looks when Deena’s not looking. Kate’s always been able to get a good read on all of them, specially Deena, but seeing through Sam’s shit was Simon’s specialty. Their families were fairly different, but they were raised in similar ways: to keep their feelings inside and bear the weight of it. Simon deflects this flaw with humor, and Sam with distance. Sam’s gotten better with age at trying not to use distance as a defense, but apparently Simon still has the ability to see how the cogs inside Sam’s brain are turning.
Sam tries hard the entire afternoon not to blush whenever Deena’s arm brushes against hers when she laughs at something Simon says, because whenever she does, he turns to her with this annoying expression, all raised eyebrows and exaggerated smile that makes her want to slap him upside the head.
They do have a great time with him though, and when they have to leave they’re saddened by it. They promise to see each other again before they have to go back to their lives, and they receive a bear hug from him. Of course, he asks for Deena to go ahead and Sam dreads whatever he has to say. They stare at each other for a while before he smiles softly and Sam, for the first time, actually sees how grown he is.
-You gotta be brave, bud.
Sam chuckles without humor, running a hand through her hair, sighing before answering.
-I don’t know if I can, Simon. I don’t know if I ever was.
He lets out a “pfft”, and shakes his head. - Bullshit. You always were. I always believed in you, Sammy. I still do.
She gives him a sad little smile. - I’ve proved you wrong before.
He snaps his fingers in an “aha!” gesture, then he taps his temple. - Doesn’t mean you can’t prove me right again.
She nods, and waves him goodbye.
The thing was, she didn’t know if she should be brave. Seeing Deena again had been so illuminating for Sam it was almost disconcerting. She’d worked hard on leaving her mistakes as a teenager behind, she’d fought so hard not to flinch at the word lesbian, she struggled to grow into herself, but she finally did.
And she enjoyed dating women, and she dated enough to know she enjoyed women a lot , yet the relationships were never as fulfilling as she thought they’d be. She’d dated college friends, she’d dated complete strangers and even went out with a co-worker once, and eventually all of those relationships fell through. She’d given up dating in the last few months, convinced maybe being single was the best for her.
When Deena stumbles back into her life and Sam feels more at home with her than she ever did in all her previous relationships, an invisible hand closes around her heart and doesn’t release. Being around Deena, however estranged they were, doesn’t feel like chore, doesn’t drain Sam of her energy, on the contrary, she comes back home and socializes with her dad more than she usually would. When there’s awkwardness between them, she doesn’t feel like running.
At first, when Deena was often in her thoughts – her first years of college, or most of them, if she was being honest – Sam would pass it off as her comparing it to the one experience she had. Now, not having that excuse anymore, admitting to herself that her connection with Deena was like no other, and that it was with her the most sense of belonging she’s ever felt, scared her to the bones, because she wants Deena so much but she doesn’t know if she deserves her. She’s warm, and forgiving, and so good she doesn’t even realize it.
And now she’s in New York, doing what she loves, being part of something and Sam doesn’t know if she has any right to walk into all of it and ask for space. She wants to fit in so badly, but all she can picture is how Deena’s new life is a china shop and Sam is the elephant that wants to waltz in.
Sam knows of the inevitability of their collision – it’ll happen sooner or later – but at the same time that she yearns for it she also dreads it. She knows that after that, eventually, they’ll have to put all the cards on the table. She wants a second chance, a proper one, she has so much faith in them now, that if Deena doesn’t want the same, she really doesn’t know what to do with herself.
The itch to distance herself comes, and Sam fights it with tooth and nail. However the outcome – a second chance or left heartbroken – she wants whatever Deena has to offer her, and she’d never be the one to pull away and leave again. The itch bites at her skin, but she pushes against it, and when Deena invites her to help her and her dad out with the biscuits, she doesn’t hesitate to head over.
She feels awkward at first; she can’t remember the last time she was at Deena’s and Randall was at home or sober enough to remember she was around. He seems much more like the man he was when they were around nine and he’d tell scary stories to them on Halloween, flashlight under his face and his deep, theatrical cackle making her and Deena huddle closer.
Deena smiles at her and pulls her by the hand to the kitchen, and soon everything slips into normalcy and Sam feels warm and comfortable as she always did at the Johnson home.
-What’s Kate up to in LA, anyway? - The blonde asks as she’s mixing the dry ingredients for cinnamon rolls.
-Huh? - Deena pipes up from where she’s watching the biscuits baking; she’s on oven-watching duty, because ten years later and she still can’t cook for shit. She says she makes a “mean ramen” though.
-Kate? You mentioned that she attended UCLA. Two days ago. - Sam gives Deena a look, but the small quirk on her lips betrays her amusement.
-Someone’s getting old. - Randall sing-songs as he walks past Deena to reach the cupboards. She sends him a mean look that makes Sam giggle and turn back to her whisking.
-Ha ha. - The brunette mocks. - I just forgot for a second. Yeah, she went to Law School there. She’s got some big-shot famous clients so of course she’s making bank. She says she has to lose a case yet.
-I believe her. - Sam replies, not surprised. Winning an argument against Kate was a lost cause when they were younger, she can only imagine it’s even harder going against her in court.
The phone rings and Sam reminds herself she almost forgot to put the yeast in.
-Oh no. - They hear Deena’s dad say into the phone and they both exchange a worried look before looking at the man again. He hums some affirmatives before saying he’ll head over. - Be safe. Okay, bye.
-Is Josh okay?- Deena asks immediately, ever the older sister, even if Josh’s in his mid-twenties.
-Yes, but they’re snowed in. His flight was delayed a bunch so when he gets to Columbus he’ll probably not find a bus over, being Christmas Eve and all.
Sam can see Deena’s worried, so she rests her hand on the counter directly behind her back; Deena doesn’t notice it, but she subconsciously leans into it.
-Can’t he get a rental?
Now Randall’s the one to quirk a brow at her. - You trust Josh driving on an icy road in the dark? - She makes a face and the man chuckles at it. - Me neither. I’ll drive over and bring him.
-Be careful, dad.
-I’ll probably spend the night and we’ll come in the morning, don’t worry. - He says in order to calm her worries, whilst he’s wrapping a fluffy scarf around his neck and putting a heavy coat on. - You’re in charge of the kitchen now, Sam. You up for that?
Sam lights up and smiles at him, and from the corner of her eye she can see Deena rolling her eyes.
-Don’t let her touch the food.
-Wouldn’t dream of it.
-Wow, okay. - Deena grumbles, turning her back on them dramatically, and Randall exchanges a smile with Sam before leaving the house. Soon, they can hear the sound of the car driving away, then silence.
They work around each other comfortably then, Deena doing the washing while Sam prepares the food.
-Wanna help me spread the butter on the dough? - Sam asks when there’s not much cleaning any more for Deena to do, and she’s looking at the dough with scorn.
-I thought I couldn’t touch the food. - She taunts, but with no bite. Sam doesn’t have to look at her for much long before she drops the act and huffs a “fine” while crossing the kitchen.
The blonde instructs her around the tasks, simple as they are, but she can see how Deena is happy to do them successfully. It’s adorable, not that Sam would ever tell her that. She spreads the butter evenly, sprinkles the cinnamon, and is about to do the same with the sugar, but the lid resists her.
-You gotta be kidding me. - The brunette grumbles while Sam watches her struggle with it.
-You need some help there?
-No! - Deena shoots back so quickly that Sam bites her cheek to stop from laughing. She could see that answer from a mile away.
-You sure?
-I. Got. It. - She punctuates with each pull on the lid, then it pops out suddenly, and the aggressive pulling Deena was doing causes the sugar to dust all over her face.
The blonde cackles for a good minute, unaffected by the glare Deena drills her with.
-You done?
The blonde chuckles some more before approaching the beast. -I think so.
-You could’ve helped! - The brunette complains as Sam dusts away the sugar on her shirt.
-I offered! Twice!
-Whatever. - She mumbles sourly, and Sam tuts because she can see the corners of Deena’s mouth trembling from holding back a grin. She brushes her hand against a sugar-dusted cheekbone, and now there’s no sign of smile on Deena’s mouth. Her lips part a little when the blonde brushes her nose, brown eyes tracking Sam’s face.
There’s something in Sam asking for her to step away, but she doesn’t. She cleans Deena’s face of the powdery treat with her own hand, just because. They’ve been getting closer and closer all evening, and all Sam can do is lean into Deena’s gravity and take whatever chance she can to be even closer.
She knows she’s staring at Deena’s mouth, knows her warm breath blowing on her fingers is making them tingle, but she only does step away, barely, when she finishes by wiping her lower lip clean. She doesn’t think she imagines the way said lip trembles.
-There you go. - Sam whispers, finally raising her eyes to look at Deena’s. For a second she thinks the other woman is lucky to have darker eyes that conceal her pupils better. Sam knows Deena can see clearly how hers are probably – surely – dilated.
The timer of the oven beeps shrilly across the kitchen, startling them both and breaking the spell. The blonde properly steps away while Deena breathes deeply, dazedly looking around for the oven mittens to get the pastries out.
They finish preparing the cinnamon rolls in silence, but the “accidental” touches escalate. When Deena brushes a hand on the small of her back on her way to store the ingredients back on the cupboard, the shiver that runs up her spine makes her decide she needs a break. If she doesn’t take a deep breath she’ll do something, and she can’t. She can open the door and wait for Deena to walk through, but she can’t be the one to cross the threshold.
-Hey, do you wanna hang out in the backyard a bit? It’s too warm in here.
Deena seems to be a little taken aback by the sudden suggestion, but seeing as her neck and cheeks are flushed, she agrees easily. - I’ll go grab some blankets.
-I’ll make us some hot chocolate.
There’s a pause where neither of them make a move to do what they said. The tension breaks when Deena laughs softly, tucking her chin down in one of her rare displays of shyness. Sam shares a soft laugh herself, feels silly. They turn to their tasks so they can they this outside – the night is just starting.
x x
The Johnson’s backyard had seen worst times; Sam remembers the overgrown weeds that would often stay weeks without trimming. Between school, taking care of the house chores, helping Josh out, and the occasional summer job, Deena didn’t have the time to tend to it.
Now, even if it was winter, the little piece of land looked much better, and the two of them were even able to see the spot on the fence near the ground where them, Kate and Simon, carved their initials.
But their conversation was about the present, not the past.
-Come on, give me something. You can’t just say you’ve produced music for The Strokes and then clam up. I’m curious! What are you up to now?
-Mm-mm. - Deena hums, mimicking zipping up her mouth and throwing the key away.
-Deena! - Sam tries to look annoyed but only ends up laughing at Deena sucking her lips inward. - Boo, you’re no fun.
-Okay. You want some inside info? - Deena concedes, and Sam sits straighter on the lawn chair, nodding eagerly. - I too want some inside info as a reward. Tell me about that book of yours.
Sam deflates, booing Deena again before she sips at her hot chocolate, flopping against the chair.
-Hey, I’m being fair. Actually, I’m being generous even, because the artist I’m working with is signed to a label is releasing music soon, while your book is nowhere near being published.
-Ouch! - Sam exclaims, mock offended, reaching to kick at Deena’s shin playfully. The brunette ducks away from her aggression, laughing at the other woman.
-I’m joking, obviously. You’re a great writer, it’s a matter of time before you get published.
Sam feels shy about the compliment, nodding in acknowledgment, choosing to focus on the other part of that statement. - How do you know I’m a good writer?
Deena looks at her like she grew a second head. - Great writer, – she corrects without missing a beat – and you used to write me things. Of course I know.
Of course. The letters, notes and annotations that rest inside a shoe-box just a few neighborhoods away from them.
-Ah, yeah. I have those.
-If anything I can only imagine your writing got better with the years. - The brunette adds, before she backpedals to what Sam had said last. - Wait, what do you mean you have those?
Sam takes her time blowing at the steam rising from the mug, then taking a sip to buy herself some time. The truth had the power to cut her open and let herself be seen in a way she wasn’t sure Deena wanted to. Things were easy now, friendly. Though, deep down, they never would be, not with them.
Most of all, she didn’t want to lie to Deena.
-I mean, I kept them. The- uh, the shoe-box. All that stuff, I’ve kept it.
The blonde watches as the information washes over Deena and all trace of playful amusement melts away, leaving a slightly stunned expression behind.
-Actually, um – Sam chuckles, though she doesn’t find what she’s about to say funny – That’s the one thing that caused the fight that ended up giving me the nerve to cut my mom off.
The blonde pauses to twist the ring on her thumb, an anxious tic that so often manifested when her mom was involved. Deena’s jaw twitches, and Sam knows she noticed the tic and remembers what usually triggers it.
-Our relationship was already pretty bad before that, anyway. She fought me the entire way the moment I said I was going to Chicago State. Eventually I started to come back less and less for the holidays. I guess after a while she got suspicious I was seeing girls again so things only went from bad to worse. I don’t know how or why she was going through my things that were back in Sunnyvale, but when she found the box she was furious. So furious she flew over the next holiday. I think she bullied the staff into letting her in the dorm building because she just barged into my room, threw the box at me and...said some awful things.
Sam pauses. It’d been years since that happened but the initial shock and scare of it were vivid in her memory. She comes back to the present when she feels Deena’s chilled fingers covering her own, squeezing in support. Sam squeezes back, before continuing.
-I guess she came in hopes that I submitted to her. I don’t know, maybe she thought she could verbally assault me into agreeing to being straight or whatever. Then she said you ruined my life and that I was weak for letting you. - Sam subconsciously tightens her hold, but Deena only matches her strength. - So I started yelling back. Told her stuff I never thought I’d be capable of telling her. Then I said-
She pauses again, digging inside herself for that bit more of will.
-I said that I’d loved you, and that she was so bitter she wouldn’t know love if it slapped her across the face. I told her I hated her for having me give you up hoping she would ever love me, and that I would regret not being able to see that was a mistake before for my entire life. Then I kicked her out and told her to pretend I was dead like I knew she wanted to.
Snow had started to float slowly to the ground, the silence loud in the backyard.
-Sam, - Deena whispered, voice tight in compassion. Sam shakes her head softly.
-It’s okay.
-It’s really not.
A beat. Deena caresses Sam’s hand with her thumb. She seems to be choosing her words.
-The way she treated you will never be okay. But you know what? That’s her fucking loss. If she can’t see how amazing her daughter is then she’s missing out.
The blonde’s previously downcast eyes turn to her, twinkling under the artificial light and the occasional snowflake that flurries into their sheltered spot. She wonders if Deena knows. Sam stares, thinking of how Deena’s words hit her chest like it was a cymbal, reverberating through her whole body.
-And fuck her, too! - Deena adds passionately, making Sam giggle at the suddenness of it.
-For good measure.
-Yeah. - Deena giggles along the blonde, until the timer they brought with them goes off once more, calling them inside. Sam’s cinnamon rolls look golden and fluffy, the smell wafting off of them indicating they were probably delicious too. She helps the brunette spread the frosting, then after they both admire all the baked goods.
-Well, my job here is done. - Sam announces, not eagerly. - I guess I’m gonna go. There’s probably a nasty left-over dinner with my name written all over it on my dad’s fridge.
Deena chuckles at the joke, but she too doesn’t look very enthusiastic at Sam leaving. She walks her to the door, and it’s all very silent as the brunette opens the door, Sam passes the threshold, and turns to face her again.
-Thanks for having me over. I had a lot of fun.
-Me too.
They move more or less at the same time, reaching for a goodbye hug.
It’s the first time in years that Sam has Deena in her arms, so her heart answers accordingly, beating strongly against her ribs. She hopes Deena can’t feel it. She also hopes she does.
They part, slightly, and Deena looks up at Sam. She thinks she might be looking for something, because she stares for what feels like minutes to Sam, while she holds her breath.
This time, Deena kisses Sam first.
x x
It’s incredibly infuriating to Deena how Sam is so much more...Sam – smart-ass, kind, frustrating, sweet – now that she’s matured and is allowed to be herself and Deena is still so into it. It’s unnerving even, because earlier she’d told herself vehemently it was because they were younger, it was because they’d been friends before, it was because Sam had pursued her. And now, older and having had the last two experiences with different women it’s just- not the same. At all.
She gets Deena, still, sees her and likes her for it, and Deena not only feels like she can, but she actively desires dropping all her pretenses and just be.
Deena knows she won’t find this again for another lifetime.
Her brain knows and so does her body, because she keeps drawing closer and closer as the day progresses, and she’s afraid to get tangled up when her life’s so stable and going so well, but then the blonde hugs her, and Deena can feel her heart start beating faster and all she has reasoned that’d be better to keep this uncomplicated flies out the window. She looks at Sam, really looks, and she has this earnest look on her face and blue eyes that eat her up- she can’t fight it.
So she kisses her – somehow, she knew Sam wouldn’t this time, so she goes ahead and does it for them.
And it escalates so quickly, she wants the other woman so much, that her body heats up just on their way from the front door to her old room. It’s a whirlwind and she can’t concentrate in a single thing because Sam has one hand on her waist, the other palming her chest, and Deena has her hands down the taller woman’s pants, tugging the elastic of her sweats and leaving it behind somewhere in the bedroom floor. Her own sweater is tugged up but lips are upon hers again in a flash.
Sam kisses her ardently, and Deena’s desire turns molten, pooling between her legs. Sam always kissed her like that, hot and wanting, like she could go without water and food but not without Deena’s lips on her own. It always had the power to take Deena apart, and now it seems like they’re even more potent. She threads her hands through Sam’s golden strands, scratching her scalp in that way Deena knows she likes. Sam whimpers, and in response slides her hands lower where they rest on Deena’s ass, squeezing it enough to part its cheeks; Deena has to tear her lips away from Sam’s to let out the moan it causes.
Sam takes advantage of this to swiftly open Deena’s zipper, sliding her hands inside and pushing it down alongside her panties. They stumble on the bed, Sam sits back as Deena straddles her hips. She scoots back until she hits the headboard, dragging Deena along holding her by the thighs that bracket her hips. She kisses the expanse of tanned skin in front of her, tasting the skin of her chest right where it meets the bra. Deena whimpers, hand on Sam’s hair tightening, pulling her into a messy kiss. Sam licks the inside of her mouth, making a sound on the back of her throat when their tongues slide together. She bites Deena’s lower lip lightly before she backs a hair away from her mouth.
-What do you want? - The blonde woman asks, and Deena in this brief moment of clarity on her desire-muddled brain appreciates her sweetness even more.
Sam caresses the inside of her thigh, and desire brings her back to a more pressing matter.
-I wanna ride you. - Deena whispers; she can feel she’s wet and swollen, skin scorching. Sam puts a hand on her lower back, whispering “come here” lowly, and she feels Deena’s heat too, hissing as she slides two fingers in easily. Deena’s neck stretches as her head leans back, chest heaving, mouth falling soundlessly open. She starts thrusting her hips against Sam with intent, soon picking up a pace. Sam kisses her neck, but her hand on her back slides to her hip, squeezing.
-Hey, hey. - She whispers against the skin of her neck, the hand on Deena’s hip softly coaxing her to a slower movement. - Slow down. We have time.
Deena’s hips are still moving against Sam’s fingers, but she slows down as she looks down into Sam’s blue eyes, looking up at her in an unnerving way. She kisses her flushed chest, without breaking eye contact, and repeats. - We have time.
Deena sighs, sliding her hands to the back of Sam’s neck, rotating her hips to give a slow and deep thrust. The pleasure derived from it gets a gasp out of her.
She slows her pace, and feels the blonde’s hand make its way to her back, snapping her bra open. Deena lets it fall, and when Sam’s lips close around one of her nipples at the same time she rides her deep, she feels a full-body shiver.
-Oh, fuck.
-Close?
She buries her face on blonde hair and soft skin, after a while, she unfolds.
Sam kisses her more, slower now, but her hands are still just as greedy, not once not pulling her close. She unbuttons the flannel she’s wearing, then gets her completely bare, laying her down on her bed. She’s a vision, all flushed skin, bitten lips and blue eyes looking at her like she’s the only person in the world. Deena has to bite her tongue not to say something out of place.
She avoids the urge by using her mouth to kiss all over her body instead, and soon she forgets about it, the long winter night turning short inside the intimate bubble they create.
x x
It’s half past eight when Deena first wakes up. She’s bare but warm, Sam’s front glued to her back, one arm loosely wrapped around her waist, the other pillowing the shorter woman’s head. She felt rested, but did not see a good reason to leave the warmth enveloping her, so she just turns in Sam’s arms and buries her nose on neck. The blonde shifts in her sleep, but it’s only to tuck her head under her chin. Soon, the brunette’s asleep again.
When they wake again, it’s nearly noon. They’ve shifted in sleep, and Deena finds herself completely on top of the other woman. She’s got arms woven around her waist, so she only raises her upper body to reach for the curtain, letting the weak winter sun in through a small crack. She turns back to Sam and now she’s peering up at her with sleepy eyes.
There’s an openness in the way she smiles softly at Deena, eyes clear and expression lax. The usual noise in Deena‘s head is quiet, but the normal pit-pat of her heart has already turned into a ba-dum ba-dum. She finds Sam very annoying for that. Deena shows her as much, brushing her hair out of her face and caressing the skin, leaning down to kiss her one, two, three, four…
A clattering noise outside draws their attention, and they finally pay attention to the noises of life happening outside the room.
-Josh and dad are probably back. - The blonde hums, turns to kiss the pads of the fingers caressing her face. - You up for that?
Sam looks at her funny, like she’s stupid for even asking.
Josh’s leaning against the kitchen table when they approach, stuffing his face with a cinnamon roll. He’s taller than Deena, not by much, but enough for him to tease her for taking the crown of smallest in the family. He lights up when he sees her sister, clearly having missed her enough not to complain when she babies him exaggeratedly. His shock at seeing Sam, looking all comfortable and at home in flannel pajamas he knows are Deena’s, is expected, but he returns her greeting warmly all the same.
He chances a look at Deena and she enunciates a low “nope” without even looking away from the juice she’s pouring. Well, he guesses he’ll hear about that one time or another.
After what’s definitely brunch and not breakfast, Sam announces she’s got to go back home otherwise her dad will think the earth swallowed her whole. Randall invites them for Christmas eve dinner, since it’ll be just the two of them and some sad take out. She’s happy to accept, and Deena sends her off with a kiss by the door.
She gets teased for it, as she is during dinner as well. Luckily, Sam’s on her side, even if their dad’s join forces with Josh to gang up on them. Deena doesn’t mind really, because life’s the happiest it’s felt in a while in this little world they made.
When Randall’s fallen asleep on the couch, Leroy’s gone home and Josh’s on the kitchen talking on the phone with his girlfriend, Sam pulls Deena up so they can sway to Nat King Cole’s Christmas Song playing softly on the record player. They’re a little better at it now, but neither of them are very good dancers still.
Sam presses her lips to Deena’s hairline, so it doesn’t matter that their feet bump occasionally.
The time they spend together is so filled of good moments that Deena can easily ignore that this is not their lives. They visit their favorite spots, they spend time on each other’s houses, and it’s just like that’s their every day routine. Deena doesn’t want to look in the eye of the thing lurking the corner of her brain yet, but after Christmas Sam starts getting fidgety. Her discomfort gets more and more obvious, and while Deena is good at ignoring her own conflict, she can hardly do that to the blonde.
Deena can feel Sam’s restlessness, even if she’s trying to conceal it. She feels a little anxious herself, knowing the impending conversation that awaits for them. The outcomes are many, and she’s not sure which scares her more: they don’t talk at all and this becomes a thing that happened during the holidays and they go back to being strangers, who know occasionally e-mail each other?
They talk and they agree to be friends and they have to live with the knowledge no one else will really compare? They talk and decide to try?
-What’s on your mind? - Finally, she whispers against the blonde hair pressing against her mouth, and Sam shifts from her place laying between Deena’s legs, head on her chest. She extricates herself slowly, leaning on an elbow as her other hand rests on the brunette’s chest. She’s silent for a minute before she finally speaks.
-When the holiday ends and we have to go back to our jobs...What happens to this? To us?
Deena knows it’s unfair, but she turns the question back to Sam. - What do you want to happen?
The blonde bites her lip and looks away from Deena, eyes now tracking the movement of her own fingers on tan skin. If Deena wasn’t anxious herself she’d feel worse about shifting the question; Sam’s anxiousness is palpable.
-I wanna try. I want- to try to be together.
Her heart starts pounding in her chest at those words. She has to swallow to be able to speak again. - You mean long distance?
Sam risks looking at her again at the suggestion. - At first, if you wanted to. There’s um, remember I told you I was looking for new jobs? I got word back from two of them, and one is in Jersey.
This makes Deena sit up, which causes the blonde to follow.
-You’d uproot your life? Just like that?
Sam frowns, confused by the reaction. - It’s not “just like that”. It’s an option. It’s been an option before all this, I just hadn’t heard back from them yet.
At Deena’s silence she continues. - Deena, I- I have feelings for you. I always tried to think that what we had was intense because it was a teenage thing, because it’s what everyone says. But these last few days with you...I always felt like I’m looking from the outside through glass wall, like I don’t belong. With you, I don’t feel like I’m outside.
A knot forms in Deena’s throat. God knows she feels exactly the same.
-That’s not all life’s about, Sam. There’s so many things we have to account for.
The blonde’s expression clouds, and Deena can see on her face she’s offended her somehow. The more agitated she gets, the more she shrinks against the wall, further away from the brunette.
-I know life’s hard, Deena, I don’t just breeze past it without struggle. -She says in a harsh tone, then softens. - I’m saying I want to try to share it with you. Be it struggle or happiness. I want all of it.
Deena wants it too so, so badly. She doesn’t know what will become of her if she ever loses it. The thought alone makes her feels the tears on the back of her throat, and she clenches the sheets under her hands to alleviate some of the anxiety but it doesn’t work.
-And if we fail?
Sam can’t see Deena being eaten away. If she doesn’t tell her she can’t guess either, because Sam has yet to learn how to read minds. That’s why her answer is the wrong one.
She cups a tan cheek tenderly. Brown eyes close at the touch. -Then we fail. But I plan to try and try and try again. You just have to want it, too.
“Try” echoes like “fail, fail, fail” on Deena’s head and she let’s out a strangled breath, shaking her head minutely. Sam’s expression falls, and her holds slackens.
-Deena. Say you want me in New York and I’ll come. I promise.
Brown meets blue, and this silence is the worst between them yet.
-I can’t choose where your life goes. That’s up to you.
The pale hand on her cheek drops.
Deena’s breaking her own heart and it only shatters further to watch Sam leave. She mutters an “okay” and hurries to dress herself. At the door, she turns, squeezes her eyes closed before staring at the ceiling.
She’s trying not cry.
-Um...You’ve got my home and office number from Chicago, and my e-mail too so. Um, if you want to be friends you can contact me. Not um- not for the next six months because well, - She tries to laugh but it sounds wet so she clears her throat. - Yeah.
Sam throws a “have a safe trip back” over her shoulder and she disappears out the door.
Deena thinks the anxiety gnawing at her might abate, but it simply starts a different tune, and she shuts her eyes with force when now you’ve lost her forever keeps hammering in her brain. She’s not sure how long it takes for her to resemble a human again and not a crisis in a beaten up hoodie, but when she emerges from her room, Josh’s on the living room tapping away at his laptop, and he glances at her briefly before she hears the typing slowing to a stop.
-Do I wanna know why Sam left in a hurry with her sweater inside out?
Her stomach twists; she feels she might be sick. - I fucked up.
Josh’s face doesn’t even twitch when he replies. - Well, then fix it. Obviously.
-I don’t know if I should.
Now he looks at her like she’s got brain damage, and rolls his eyes before shaking his head and going back to whatever he’s working on.
Deena is miserable for the next few days. She hangs around her room, moping. At first, her decision had felt right, at least from intellectual stand-point. No trial entails no error. Simple as that. But as the hours drag on and she feels like the pit in her stomach only gets worse she doubts that logic. Her dad, widowed for 15 years, has no sage advice for her. Josh just thinks she’s stupid, – and he’s likely right.
And the thing is, she’s stubborn, yes, but that doesn’t stop her from reaching out of extending an olive branch if she can admit to herself – even if begrudgingly – that she was in the wrong too. And deep down she’s afraid to ruin it all. Her life in New York, never repetitive in the bigger sense but incredibly boring in the personal one is so safe. And so is Sam’s.
Considering how tumultuous a good portion of her formative years were, boring was good.
And not trying doesn’t mean Sam’s completely out of the picture. The blonde had said it herself, they could be friends eventually. They could still fit, just not…
Fuck.
She loves Sam, of course that’s not working. The thought of them being friends after this holiday is ludicrous.
Deena sits up in bed, and in the process her eyes go to an old reliable jacket she dug up from her dresser. The one she had on her back when she first went to New York, and that she forgot the other time she was home for the holidays.
Fuck.
Where Deena would even be if she wasn’t stupidly brave to just go and try and take on things head on? A few years in a comfortable life and she’s a little embarrassed she apparently going fucking soft.
She jumps from bed and goes for the phone, calling the home number Sam gave her the day they had coffee. It rings, and rings, and rings. She tries again. And then again an hour later. And then again in the following.
She’s given up reaching Sam on the phone when it rings later. It’s definitely a Fraser wanting to speak to her on the end of the line, but not the one she expects.
x x
Her bag and backpack are zipped up and neatly piled beside each other on the corner of her room, just waiting for the time to leave. It’s the 30th and it was hell to find a red-eye flight on the 31st, but thankfully there'd been a cancellation on that flight and Sam took the spot.
She was in no mood to spend the new years in Shadyside anymore, and her father understood her motives, going as far as to helping her make the last minute preparations.
She’d come home empty-eyed three days ago, clearly emotionally vacant if her distracted replies were anything to go by. Leroy had been worried, and on the second day, without much clue to what to do to help, told her over lunch:
-Buttercup...It’s okay to cry if you’re upset. Grown-ups can cry too, you know.
Sam had opened her mouth to respond but a sob bubbled up instead and then came the water works. She looked awful later with the puffy eyes, but at least it seemed to clear her mind, and she set to make preparations to make the trip back earlier.
So now here she was, ready to leave, only needing to close one last door: the shoebox that laid open in front of her. She’d promised herself to deal with it and deal she would.
She looked over all the small notes, the letters, the little trinkets she’d buy Deena because they reminded her of her, and the pictures. She looked at them, 15 and so unaware of the challenge all this would turn out to be. That gets a fond smile out of Sam. Maybe they were braver then, because they didn’t know.
She debates throwing the pictures out along with all the rest or not. In the end, she decides to leave those in her drawer – she hopes they can be friends, at least. Eventually. She thinks maybe they’ll be able to laugh and look at those pictures fondly in a couple of years.
As she’s opening her drawer, she hears the doorbell ring and her dad’s muffled shout of “I’ll get it”.
Like Sam’s in any mood to talk to a stranger. It’s likely his friend that’s driving her to Dayton as a favor because he’s been neglecting his doctor appointments and his prescription is outdated. Sam would rather save all her pleasantries for when she’s stuck in a car for almost two hours with Tim McGraw crowning on the radio.
She retrieves the box and heads out of the room to throw it out with the rest of the recycling. As she crosses the corridor – weird, its silent – she notices the front door still open, and since she’s headed out anyway she goes investigate.
The last thing she expects is to find Leroy talking to Deena, of all people. The heartbreak is pretty fucking fresh still, so just seeing her makes Sam’s chest ache.
-What are you doing here? - She asks, not unkindly, but not welcoming either.
Deena shifts in place, her breath freezing in the cold. - Your dad called me and asked if I could drive you to Dayton, because of his prescription and all. He said you couldn’t find a bus ticket last minute?
Sam glances at her dad, trying to make something of this situation. His face betrays nothing, and he just points a thumb over his shoulder. - I’m gonna get your things since Deena’s already here.
And he disappears inside the house, leaving her to deal with whatever this is, alone.
-It’s very kind of you to drive me to Dayton. You don’t have to, though. If that’s getting in the way of your plans or something. - Sam’s successful in saying this evenly, and not sounding like the sad sack she feels like.
-I want to. - Deena replies quickly, and if the cold hadn’t already made her skin flushed, it’d certainly be now. - It’s fine. It’s not in the way of anything.
She says nothing to that, only nodding and lowering her gaze to the snow gathering in the front yard. There’s a few beats of silence until Deena breaks it.
-Is that uh, the box?
The blonde was really counting on the poor illumination the streetlight for Deena not to realize what was hanging by her side. She nods in confirmation. Deena keeps staring at it until she figures out why Sam’s took it outside the house.
-Were you going to throw it away? - Deena’s voice catches a little, and Sam doesn’t know why.
A very soft “yes” leaves pink lips.
Deena doesn’t react for several seconds before she draws her lips in and nods, looking down. Sam lets out a sigh. Like this needed to be any harder. She walks towards the garbage bin on the opposite end of the sidewalk that Deena’s standing in, opens it, hates herself for hesitating for a second, deposits the box inside and closes the lid, walking back to her spot a good ten feet away from the other woman.
Leroy appears then, helps them store her luggage in the trunk, hugs Sam goodbye, and sends them on their way.
The first few minutes of the trip are tense, and she knows Deena isn’t comfortable with it because she knows she hates small talk, but she keeps making commentary on the weather, the road and whatnot. When it becomes clear Sam’s not gonna give her more than a hum here and there, she stops. It stays silent for a few minutes before Deena pulls a CD from the glove compartment, popping it on the car’s stereo. The Pixies starts playing lowly in the car.
The blonde closes her eyes and leans her head against the window. She really doesn’t know what Deena’s getting at, and maybe she’s overthinking it, but right now she’d like the brunette to give her some peace.
Her wish is granted in some sort of way, because she dozes off for the rest of the way, and only wakes up when they’re at the airport’s parking lot.
-Sam. Hey, Sam. - She hears the voice call her softly, and in those blissful first few seconds before consciousness fully kicks in, her chest warms, thinking she’s waking up to Deena and after lounging in bed for a while they’ll get breakfast and spend the day together.
Her head slides a little against the chill glass of the window and she’s pulled back to reality. She glances at Deena, but soon turns away. She doesn’t need her big, warm eyes boring into her before she’s boarding a plane back to Chicago to nurse her wound on her own.
Deena hurries beside her when Sam pops the trunk open and pulls her backpack from it.
-I can help bring them inside-
-It’s okay, you’ve been a lot of help already. - Sam interrupts, impatient, because she can’t wait to get away from Deena’s guilt-filled kindness but the other woman only seems to want to prolong it. - It’s okay, Deena. Alright? I get it. It’s okay.
And maybe it’s not, not really, and she’ll probably won’t be for a while, but she’ll manage. She’ll be okay enough eventually. Sam wishes Deena understood that and made this easy for her, but by the distressed expression she’s wearing Sam doesn’t think she’ll get her wishes.
-I’ll see you around. - She doesn’t wait for an answer, but Deena doesn’t wait either, because Sam hasn’t even twisted her body around to walk away, when she blurts out:
-I want you in New York with me.
She stops dead in her tracks, flabbergasted. Deena takes this as her chance.
-I want you in New York with me, or, or me in Chicago with you, or in Kentucky or wherever the fuck…! I don’t care. I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot that got scared of finally being chosen, and I fucked up and I’m so, so sorry, Sam, because you’re the last person I’d ever want to hurt. I want you wherever you’ll have me.
Sam feels light-headed.
-You’re such an idiot.
-Huh?
-”Huh?” You’re an idiot! You had a two hour drive to say this and you tell me now?!
-But-
The blonde cuts her off, kissing her mouth like she’ll die if she doesn’t. Deena holds her face after the shock wears off, delighting in the taller woman hugging her closer by the waist. When they part she kisses Sam’s face once, twice, thrice, feeling the dimple pop out under lips.
-I was gathering my courage, then you fell asleep. - Deena pouts, because of course she has a rebuttal for that. Sam snorts.
-I told you I wanted to be with you four days ago!
-And today I saw you throw the box with our stuff out!
-Shit, I gotta call dad and ask him to dig through the trash.
-Don’t worry, I’ll get it back. - Deena smiles reassuringly at her, and Sam is so glad that they’re finally on the same page that her chest weights nothing at all. - You’re sure you can’t get your original plane seat back?
Sam winces. Holiday season was kill or be killed when it came to buying tickets. - I’m afraid not.
Deena rolls her eyes and tuts, fingers scratching the back of Sam’s neck distractedly. - Fine. In a few days you’ll be in Jersey for your final interview anyway.
-That I will.
-And you’ll call me so I can pick you and help you get around the city. We’ll see how much you’ll love that Manhattan one-bedroom then.
Sam presses her laugh into Deena’s neck, delighted when she squirms. This time when Deena offers, she lets her pick her bag and help her inside. She waits until Sam has to board the plane, but this time they exchange smiles when saying goodbye.
This was just the start.