Al and Sam
May. 25th, 2003 12:12 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsIn the kitchen Friday night, Al and Sam have a sappy, teary, heart-to-heart in which Sam's shirt gets wet and the ice cream melts. Very much G-rated.
Friday - 11.30pm
Alison grinned widely as she closed the door to her room, and headed for the stairs at a quick trot, trying not too make too much noise for the students (most of who were sleeping at this hour, she figured). She yelped in dismay as she spotted Sam's blond hair disappearing down the stairs at a fast clip, far in advance of her, and sped up as much as she dared, trying to catch up.
Sam could hear Alison trailing him, and he grinned broadly to himself, quickening his pace and racing to the kitchen. He plunked down onto a stool at the center island, smirking at her as she entered. "Slowpoke," he drawled, amusement glimmering in his eyes.
She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him, then gave him a sly look and walked to the refrigerator. Opening the door, she grabbed two cartons of ice cream and turned around with a smug expression. "But I got the ice cream," she winked at him, edging away towards the door. "And this is the last carton of praline," she added, waving the carton of ice cream at him tauntingly.
"Well considering you're the one doing the apologizing and the one who promised me ice cream, and I'm the one with the Rocket Punch and a chip on my shoulder, you can choose for yourself whether you'd like to give me some or not." He winked at her as he spoke, leaning heavily on his elbows.
A rich chuckle was his only answer as she set down the cartons on the counter and pulled spoons from the cutlery drawer. She paused as she did so, and turned around to give the kitchen a brief scan, making sure no one was lurking in the shadows. With a nod to herself she picked up the spoons and the cartons and made her way towards the center island, placing the praline ice cream in front of him and presenting him the spoon with a flourish.
"My apologies," she intoned solemnly, before breaking out into a smile once more and turning to look for a stool to sit on.
Sam took the spoon with much ceremony, puffing out his chest and looking goofily smug. "Apology accepted, Al," he intoned, attempting to sound snooty but failing horribly because of his warm accent.
He pulled up a stool for her. "Have a seat."
"I do believe I will," she replied, picking up her own spoon and eyeing the carton of vanilla ice cream she'd taken out for herself. A brief flicker of worry crossed her features as she thought of Bobby, reminded of him by the ice cream before her. She opened the carton and dug in, setting the worry aside for now - others were in far better positions to help him, she knew.
"Recovering nicely, aren't we?" she waved her spoon at Sam, chuckled as he started going at the praline with a vengeance.
"Oh very much," he replied, shaking his spoon at her in turn. "That's what I do. Recover nicely. No grudges, no hard feelings, no stress, no anger, no nothing. 'S all good. You were jus' havin' a laugh. I got kinda worked up 'cause I was tired and stuff, but I know it's all in fun."
He dug his spoon into the ice cream and took a bite, letting his eyelids flutter closed. "Mmm..."
Alison stabbed at the ice cream without remorse, lips curving in a small smile. "Thanks for taking it so well. It's not everyone that can take being picked on at that level quite so well, all things considered." She shrugged, unsure how to explain. "It's been a while since I've just cut loose and let myself be silly like that. It's been - different, being here."
Sam was intrigued by her thoughts, and wondered at her declaration. "Hey, no problem. I may have permanent scars, but there are more than enough band-aids around to cover them all!"
He smiled and winked, but sobered as he continued. "...Different how?"
She looked up at him, tilting her head to the side as she tried to figure out how to explain something she'd barely even touched at herself since her arrival at the Mansion. "I guess... It's not like on tour. That's what I'd been doing for the last two and a half years of my life really. That and being in the recording studio. Always on the go, always a show to be on or a performance to do and here it's... quiet. I keep wondering if I shouldn't be somewhere, doing something. It's - I miss it," she finally says for the first time since she had to admit to herself that her career as a singer was at an end. "I just miss it," she adds, realizing with dismay that her throat was tightening on the words.
He thought for a moment, chin in his hands, then reached over and wrapped his fingers around Alison's. "But aren't you happy that you've found somewhere where you can belong? Friends who are permanent, and someplace you c'n be without having to leave in two weeks? I think it's the best thing in the world to finally feel comfortable somewhere with other people. I never had no friends besides my siblings before I came here. And now...I fit. I dunno. Maybe I just don't get how you can miss constantly being on the move. Just be bein' here, you're doin' something."
Alison gave him a ghost of a smile, forgetting about the ice cream as she unconsciously held on to his hand as though it were a lifeline. "But I did have friends back there too. There was Mickey, he was my sound man - heck, he turned down some really big offers just to stick with our crew. And Nanette, and -" she paused, shoulders slumping. "It's a different world for sure, but - oh Sam," she whispered, shaking her head sadly. "The ties are just as real. And I worked so hard and gave up so much for that. For all of it. And there was so much more to come. And now it's all gone."
Sam bit his lip at her words, shaking his head sadly. "I'm awful sorry you had to leave it all behind, Al, but...is it really that much better than here? If it is...well. As much as I don' wanna say it. Maybe you oughta go back." His eyes filled with visible disappointment, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Ties between people mean a lot, and no matter how far on you've moved, they're gonna be there when you look for 'em. You could go back if ya really wanted to."
She shook her head, taking in a deep breath and refusing to give way to the tears threatening to spill over. "Can't. It's why I came here in the first place," she admitted. "Hank had always said if I needed anything, to just call him - and when it got to the point where there wasn't even an agent willing to represent me and the recording company went to court to have all my contracts dissolved and - there just wasn't anything left," she looked down, tugging at one of the charms on the bracelet she wore. "It's my own fault really. I don't regret telling people I'm a mutant. I think I don't at least - sometimes I'm not so sure. I just wish the price hadn't been so high. It's all I'd ever wanted."
Sam scooted off his stool, standing next to Alison and wrapping his arms around her, embracing her and holding her gently. "Aw, Al...it's okay. You can cry, y'know. Everyone has to cry sometimes."
He ran a hand gently through her hair, speaking softly to her as he cradled her head against his chest. "It's better to be telling the truth and have to face the consequences than it is to be living a lie. We all have to do it here, and some people jus' have to face worse consequences than others. But they're the strongest of everyone, Al. Like you. You've given up something you truly love so that you can be honest with yourself and everyone else. It's admirable. And if you just give it time, you can go back. I know you can. You just have to wait it out. Let the wounds heal."
She leaned into his embrace, and as he spoke she started to cry despite herself. It wasn't the long tearing sobs that had taken over on the first night when she'd arrived at the Mansion, alone in her room late at night. It was more of a continuous fall of tears, and as she hid her face in the soft material of the t-shirt Sam was wearing, accepting the comfort he was offering, she finally let go.
"Hey," he whispered, his lips brushing the top of her head. "Go ahead. Let it out, hon."
He wondered why people do this...why they kept it inside. He couldn't understand the necessity of it, having known all his life that the only way to be truly happy was to never restrain your sadness. He accepted it, let it out, and moved on, and the optimism in him ruled his heart. His sadness, even as a little boy with a dead father, had never been debilitating, and he always worried for those who were overcome by their own...these thoughts raced through his head as he looked at Alison, opening up before him and showing him her tears.
Alison lost awareness of time as she cried, simply hanging on to Sam until the tears finally ran out. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, she turned her face slightly, looking up at him with darkened blue eyes from the crook of his shoulder. "All wet," she murmured apologetically, but not letting go. "Ice cream sorta wet too," she added with the ghost of a smile.
He smiled softly back, lifting a hand to dry her tear-stained cheeks with a calloused thumb.
"'S alright, I have lots of t-shirts. It'll dry anyway. And the ice cream ain't real important, in the long run. We'll just stick it back in the freezer and pretend we didn't melt it." He laughed quietly, and tightened his arm against her back.
She chuckled tiredly against him, eyes closed and feeling as though she'd been holding her breath for ever since her arrival, only to finally start breathing again.
"I do like it here," she murmured drowsily. "I like the people here."
"I do too." He rubbed her back absently, smiling to himself. "Maybe you could sing in some of the venues in the city? I dunno how that works, really, but it seems like somethin' you could do."
"The venues worth singing in are the hardest ones to get into, even when you do have a name," she sighed, although not from bitterness as she might have earlier. Just breathing. "Something will happen," she finally said, willing to keep hoping despite everything "Whatever it is, something will happen, when it's meant to. Guess I'll just have to keep believing that..."
"Believing's always important. And yeah...whatever happens'll happen. That's the way things are." Leaning over, he kissed her lightly on the top of the head, loosening his arms. "I guess it's bedtime right about now, huh?" He smiled as she began to nod off. Assuming she'd rather just go to sleep than clean up, he cleared off the counter.
Alison walked towards the doorway and leaned on the frame, fighting off a wave of tiredness, and smiled crookedly at him as he wiped the counter down. "You're something else, Sam Guthrie," she said. "Don't you ever let anyone make you think otherwise." She pushed away from the frame, wrapping her arms around herself. "Thank you."
"No need to thank me, Al." His eyes softened at her compliment. He fell silent for a moment, then spoke up. "Now you get yourself to bed before you fall asleep standing."
She nodded at him, smiling serenely despite the still evident traces that the crying had left, and turned to head back towards her room.
Sam watched her leave, and finished cleaning up, then padded quietly back to his own room, falling into bed. He was asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.
Friday - 11.30pm
Alison grinned widely as she closed the door to her room, and headed for the stairs at a quick trot, trying not too make too much noise for the students (most of who were sleeping at this hour, she figured). She yelped in dismay as she spotted Sam's blond hair disappearing down the stairs at a fast clip, far in advance of her, and sped up as much as she dared, trying to catch up.
Sam could hear Alison trailing him, and he grinned broadly to himself, quickening his pace and racing to the kitchen. He plunked down onto a stool at the center island, smirking at her as she entered. "Slowpoke," he drawled, amusement glimmering in his eyes.
She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him, then gave him a sly look and walked to the refrigerator. Opening the door, she grabbed two cartons of ice cream and turned around with a smug expression. "But I got the ice cream," she winked at him, edging away towards the door. "And this is the last carton of praline," she added, waving the carton of ice cream at him tauntingly.
"Well considering you're the one doing the apologizing and the one who promised me ice cream, and I'm the one with the Rocket Punch and a chip on my shoulder, you can choose for yourself whether you'd like to give me some or not." He winked at her as he spoke, leaning heavily on his elbows.
A rich chuckle was his only answer as she set down the cartons on the counter and pulled spoons from the cutlery drawer. She paused as she did so, and turned around to give the kitchen a brief scan, making sure no one was lurking in the shadows. With a nod to herself she picked up the spoons and the cartons and made her way towards the center island, placing the praline ice cream in front of him and presenting him the spoon with a flourish.
"My apologies," she intoned solemnly, before breaking out into a smile once more and turning to look for a stool to sit on.
Sam took the spoon with much ceremony, puffing out his chest and looking goofily smug. "Apology accepted, Al," he intoned, attempting to sound snooty but failing horribly because of his warm accent.
He pulled up a stool for her. "Have a seat."
"I do believe I will," she replied, picking up her own spoon and eyeing the carton of vanilla ice cream she'd taken out for herself. A brief flicker of worry crossed her features as she thought of Bobby, reminded of him by the ice cream before her. She opened the carton and dug in, setting the worry aside for now - others were in far better positions to help him, she knew.
"Recovering nicely, aren't we?" she waved her spoon at Sam, chuckled as he started going at the praline with a vengeance.
"Oh very much," he replied, shaking his spoon at her in turn. "That's what I do. Recover nicely. No grudges, no hard feelings, no stress, no anger, no nothing. 'S all good. You were jus' havin' a laugh. I got kinda worked up 'cause I was tired and stuff, but I know it's all in fun."
He dug his spoon into the ice cream and took a bite, letting his eyelids flutter closed. "Mmm..."
Alison stabbed at the ice cream without remorse, lips curving in a small smile. "Thanks for taking it so well. It's not everyone that can take being picked on at that level quite so well, all things considered." She shrugged, unsure how to explain. "It's been a while since I've just cut loose and let myself be silly like that. It's been - different, being here."
Sam was intrigued by her thoughts, and wondered at her declaration. "Hey, no problem. I may have permanent scars, but there are more than enough band-aids around to cover them all!"
He smiled and winked, but sobered as he continued. "...Different how?"
She looked up at him, tilting her head to the side as she tried to figure out how to explain something she'd barely even touched at herself since her arrival at the Mansion. "I guess... It's not like on tour. That's what I'd been doing for the last two and a half years of my life really. That and being in the recording studio. Always on the go, always a show to be on or a performance to do and here it's... quiet. I keep wondering if I shouldn't be somewhere, doing something. It's - I miss it," she finally says for the first time since she had to admit to herself that her career as a singer was at an end. "I just miss it," she adds, realizing with dismay that her throat was tightening on the words.
He thought for a moment, chin in his hands, then reached over and wrapped his fingers around Alison's. "But aren't you happy that you've found somewhere where you can belong? Friends who are permanent, and someplace you c'n be without having to leave in two weeks? I think it's the best thing in the world to finally feel comfortable somewhere with other people. I never had no friends besides my siblings before I came here. And now...I fit. I dunno. Maybe I just don't get how you can miss constantly being on the move. Just be bein' here, you're doin' something."
Alison gave him a ghost of a smile, forgetting about the ice cream as she unconsciously held on to his hand as though it were a lifeline. "But I did have friends back there too. There was Mickey, he was my sound man - heck, he turned down some really big offers just to stick with our crew. And Nanette, and -" she paused, shoulders slumping. "It's a different world for sure, but - oh Sam," she whispered, shaking her head sadly. "The ties are just as real. And I worked so hard and gave up so much for that. For all of it. And there was so much more to come. And now it's all gone."
Sam bit his lip at her words, shaking his head sadly. "I'm awful sorry you had to leave it all behind, Al, but...is it really that much better than here? If it is...well. As much as I don' wanna say it. Maybe you oughta go back." His eyes filled with visible disappointment, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Ties between people mean a lot, and no matter how far on you've moved, they're gonna be there when you look for 'em. You could go back if ya really wanted to."
She shook her head, taking in a deep breath and refusing to give way to the tears threatening to spill over. "Can't. It's why I came here in the first place," she admitted. "Hank had always said if I needed anything, to just call him - and when it got to the point where there wasn't even an agent willing to represent me and the recording company went to court to have all my contracts dissolved and - there just wasn't anything left," she looked down, tugging at one of the charms on the bracelet she wore. "It's my own fault really. I don't regret telling people I'm a mutant. I think I don't at least - sometimes I'm not so sure. I just wish the price hadn't been so high. It's all I'd ever wanted."
Sam scooted off his stool, standing next to Alison and wrapping his arms around her, embracing her and holding her gently. "Aw, Al...it's okay. You can cry, y'know. Everyone has to cry sometimes."
He ran a hand gently through her hair, speaking softly to her as he cradled her head against his chest. "It's better to be telling the truth and have to face the consequences than it is to be living a lie. We all have to do it here, and some people jus' have to face worse consequences than others. But they're the strongest of everyone, Al. Like you. You've given up something you truly love so that you can be honest with yourself and everyone else. It's admirable. And if you just give it time, you can go back. I know you can. You just have to wait it out. Let the wounds heal."
She leaned into his embrace, and as he spoke she started to cry despite herself. It wasn't the long tearing sobs that had taken over on the first night when she'd arrived at the Mansion, alone in her room late at night. It was more of a continuous fall of tears, and as she hid her face in the soft material of the t-shirt Sam was wearing, accepting the comfort he was offering, she finally let go.
"Hey," he whispered, his lips brushing the top of her head. "Go ahead. Let it out, hon."
He wondered why people do this...why they kept it inside. He couldn't understand the necessity of it, having known all his life that the only way to be truly happy was to never restrain your sadness. He accepted it, let it out, and moved on, and the optimism in him ruled his heart. His sadness, even as a little boy with a dead father, had never been debilitating, and he always worried for those who were overcome by their own...these thoughts raced through his head as he looked at Alison, opening up before him and showing him her tears.
Alison lost awareness of time as she cried, simply hanging on to Sam until the tears finally ran out. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, she turned her face slightly, looking up at him with darkened blue eyes from the crook of his shoulder. "All wet," she murmured apologetically, but not letting go. "Ice cream sorta wet too," she added with the ghost of a smile.
He smiled softly back, lifting a hand to dry her tear-stained cheeks with a calloused thumb.
"'S alright, I have lots of t-shirts. It'll dry anyway. And the ice cream ain't real important, in the long run. We'll just stick it back in the freezer and pretend we didn't melt it." He laughed quietly, and tightened his arm against her back.
She chuckled tiredly against him, eyes closed and feeling as though she'd been holding her breath for ever since her arrival, only to finally start breathing again.
"I do like it here," she murmured drowsily. "I like the people here."
"I do too." He rubbed her back absently, smiling to himself. "Maybe you could sing in some of the venues in the city? I dunno how that works, really, but it seems like somethin' you could do."
"The venues worth singing in are the hardest ones to get into, even when you do have a name," she sighed, although not from bitterness as she might have earlier. Just breathing. "Something will happen," she finally said, willing to keep hoping despite everything "Whatever it is, something will happen, when it's meant to. Guess I'll just have to keep believing that..."
"Believing's always important. And yeah...whatever happens'll happen. That's the way things are." Leaning over, he kissed her lightly on the top of the head, loosening his arms. "I guess it's bedtime right about now, huh?" He smiled as she began to nod off. Assuming she'd rather just go to sleep than clean up, he cleared off the counter.
Alison walked towards the doorway and leaned on the frame, fighting off a wave of tiredness, and smiled crookedly at him as he wiped the counter down. "You're something else, Sam Guthrie," she said. "Don't you ever let anyone make you think otherwise." She pushed away from the frame, wrapping her arms around herself. "Thank you."
"No need to thank me, Al." His eyes softened at her compliment. He fell silent for a moment, then spoke up. "Now you get yourself to bed before you fall asleep standing."
She nodded at him, smiling serenely despite the still evident traces that the crying had left, and turned to head back towards her room.
Sam watched her leave, and finished cleaning up, then padded quietly back to his own room, falling into bed. He was asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.
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Date: 2003-05-24 11:56 pm (UTC)"Something will happen," she finally said, willing to keep hoping despite everything "Whatever it is, something will happen, when it's meant to. Guess I'll just have to keep believing that..."
Gee, and the very next day, something happens. :) Not quite the adulation of millions, but hey.
(And now I wish I could take credit for Jamie's plan, but the idea was in fact given to me by our Alison's player.)
You guys rock. :)
no subject
Date: 2003-05-25 02:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-25 09:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-05-25 09:50 am (UTC)*beams*
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Date: 2003-05-25 02:35 pm (UTC)