He was grinning.
Again.
In the past four weeks, she didn't think he'd stopped grinning. He was already grinning when she woke up - and he always seemed to wake up before her no matter what time they went to bed or what they got up to - and he grinned when they ate, grinned when she left for work and kissed him goodbye, grinned when she came back, grinned when they went to bed...
Obviously, he stopped grinning for a time in bed while they... you know. Directly afterwards was another matter entirely, of course.
But it was okay. He had a right to grin. The novelty of the relationship they had coveted for so damn long was still delightful. It was precious, something to be marvelled at in the same way Sam marvelled at the Stargate on a daily basis.
She was resigned to the fact that the novelty would wear off sooner or later and she probably ought to enjoy it while it lasted. Every relationship she'd ever had followed a kind of routine, even from when she first started dating at fifteen. There was a honeymoon period in which she could do no wrong and then, *bam*, suddenly she was the most irritating person in the world.
Which was probably true.
For them, the novelty would probably wear off when he worked out just how neurotic she really was.
"Explain to me again why you arrange your CDs chronologically, Sam."
There was that grin.
Hmm.
Maybe he knew she was neurotic already.
"I think I like your colour co-ordinated sock drawer best."
Okay. So he knew she was neurotic. He didn't, however, realise just how bad a cook she really was. That had always bugged Jonas.
"Remember how Daniel always used to say his macaroni and cheese tasted like chicken?"
Dubiously, she watched him over the rim of her wine glass, her tongue holding a sip of the alcohol over her tingling tastebuds a moment before she swallowed. "Mmm-hmm."
He grinned again, his eyes lit up with delight. "How do you get spaghetti to taste like chicken?"
All right, all right - so he knew she was a terrible cook. There was a reason they had twenty take-out numbers on their speed-dial.
*Their* speed-dial. She loved saying that.
Right - what had she covered? Neurotic, check. Lousy cook, check. Bizarre sleeping patterns.... Ah-hah.
She slept when she got tired. Not unusual. Most people got tired at night. Sam didn't. Sam got tired when her body finally said 'Okay, brain. Enough now. Lie down and have a nap'. Her record for not sleeping had been four days and, that's right, you guessed it, Edora had been the reason. She sure as hell hadn't done it again, that was for sure. Not only had she fallen asleep face down on her desk but Janet had been so worried that she'd transferred Sam to the infirmary where she'd proceeded to sleep for twenty-four hours.
So, as soon as he realised just how much of an unreliable sleeper she was, that grin would be gone for sure.
Except, well. He didn't seem to sleep.
At all.
Groggily, she sat up to stare at the shadow in the corner of their room. "What time is it?"
"Half past four. Go back to sleep."
"Jack? What are you doing?"
"Er... I just woke up."
Palming her eye, she tried to focus. "Half past four? In the morning? Jack, God, come back to bed."
"Want to make it worth my while?"
Smirking, she fell back onto the bed, snuggling up into his pillow. Why did his pillow always smell better? "If I just have to lie here..."
She got a well-aimed cushion in the face for that.
And it wasn't just the morning either.
" - after this hockey game..."
" - I just wanna watch the end of this film..."
" - did you know Mars is out tonight...?"
"Jack. Anyone would think you don't want to sleep with.... ah! Okay, Jack, put me down. Down, I said. Down. For God's sake..."
So, no, he knew her sleeping patterns were bad because his were similarly awful. Perhaps that wouldn't be their downfall.
It would probably be the plants.
Sam loved her plants.
*Seriously* loved her house plants. Her plants were her babies. No plant was her favourite because that would just be cruel. They all took turns on their bedroom windowsill so none of them would feel rejected and she bought them nice pots to sit in. When she went on holiday, she left strict typed and then laminated instructions for each plant, including timings of waterings and feedings.
She'd once had a boyfriend who'd killed one of her plants. He'd poured bleach in it by accident.
That had been the end of that relationship.
Definitely the plants.
The plants would break them.
"What do you talk to them about?"
"Stuff."
"What kind of stuff?"
"Just.. whatever I feel like talking to them about."
He turned back to her windowsill and said decisively, "I'm gonna talk to this one about hockey. And this one about baseball. And this one about my plans for world domination. And this one... this one is gonna hear all about you."
Sam eyed the spider plant dubiously. Poor plant. She made a mental note to check on it on a regular basis in case it shrivelled up and died mysteriously.
The plants clearly weren't going to break them. For one thing, he had decidedly, and surprisingly, green fingers and her plants were looking suspiciously healthy. Including the spider plant.
Hmm.
He still hadn't stopped grinning.
Perhaps it was time she gave up wondering when it was going to fall apart and she started...
"Sam?"
The plate in her hand nearly slipped and crashed onto the floor. The damn dishwasher was broken again and she'd yet to climb inside it and take it apart. "Yeah?"
"What's with the grin?"
"Huh?"
"The grin. I swear, you haven't stopped grinning for the last month."
She turned to look at him, standing there with a dish towel over his shoulder and another in his hands. He blinked at her innocently.
Grinning.
END
Story Notes: Spoilers: 100 Days, One False Step
A/N: Beta-ed by Emry-the-Great
Archive: SJD yes, my site, Heliopolis, Ff.net
A/N: Beta-ed by Emry-the-Great
Archive: SJD yes, my site, Heliopolis, Ff.net
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]