Hi :) I had a plot bunny so I had to write it. It's set fifteen years after Night Watch when Young Sammy is born :)
DISCLAIMER: I dont own Discworld, damit...
Ankh-Morpork Evening
Young Sam walks along the street, boots idly scuffing on the pavement. The sounds of Ankh-Morpork surround him, a familiar cloak of noise. The cobblestones are reassuringly there under his feet. People flock past him. He can hear Cut-Me-Own-Throat, now much older and fatter but still going, advertising his sausages inna bun.
This is his city, and Young Sam likes it. It's a horrible place, to be honest. But it's his home. He's fifteen now, lanky, dark brown curls, stubble just starting to grow on his cheeks. People always comment how he's much…softer than his father. The child of Sybil Ramkin and Sam Vimes…they'd shaken their head and wondered how much damage he'd do.
But Young Sam, he's not bad, tough in the way that Ankh-Morpork city life makes you tough, but not abrasive.
He turns down a street and there he is at Hyde Park. His stomach gives a pleasant thrill as he sees Ginger sitting on the wall, kicking her feet.
Ginger is thirteen, and she's the daughter of Captain Carrot and Sergeant Angua, people he's known since he was a baby. She's absolutely beautiful, long glossy red hair and warm brown eyes that always remind him of a feisty Jack Terrier…playful and sparkling. She loves the city almost as much as her father does, it burns inside her like a sort of flame. Her real name's Georgia, but as soon as her red hair grew and her earnest, irresistibly friendly personality showed, she was known as Ginger.
Sam's her best friend, despite the two-year-age difference. They help each other with their homework, and he takes her for walks around the city – at full moon every month. Yes, she's a werewolf. Sam's one of the few people that knows outside her family circle. Since the werewolf gene was watered down, she is a bit less doggy and does not have as many self-control issues as her mother, but she still can't be close to too much blood near full moon.
He feels a bit nervous today for some reason. "Hi Ginger," he called.
"Hi Sam," she calls. She kicks her legs happily. He joins her on the wall.
"It's a nice sunset." The sun's setting and it casts a goldy glow on her face, her upturned nose.
"Yeah."
"So how's things going with your parents?" Ginger's not the type of person who says that merely for something to say. Her eyes shine with inquisitive interest. She is certainly her father's daughter.
"Oh…all right, I guess." Young Sam is a little gloomy, things have been a bit tense at home. "Dad's almost sixty-two now and he doesn't like feeling old. It doesn't suit him."
Ginger nods. "I can certainly imagine that. Still, he's still going, Commander of the Watch."
She grins, white teeth flashing. Her canines are longer than normal.
"I'm going to be a policeman," she says. "Well…a policewoman. Like mum, I'll help sniff out the criminals." She laughs.
"You'd be good at it," says Young Sam. "Could you handle the messy crime scenes?"
Ginger shrugs. "I'll be all right. And you'll be with me in the Watch." She nudges him.
Sam bites his lip. This is a bit of a sensitive subject. His dad wants him to be a copper, like him. He wants him to be the same aggressive figure of justice. Vetinari's terrier, after he's gone.
But Sam doesn't know what he wants to do. He doesn't want to spend long nights on patrol, and live his whole life in a uniform in Ankh-Morpork's streets. There's more out there, a lot, and he wants to see it.
"Maybe."
"I hear the Patrician's having heart troubles," says Ginger. Sam almost chokes on his spit, wondering exactly who the Patrician would have heart troubles about, until he remembers his father talking to mum about how he saw Havelock go all grey and sink into a chair, hand pressed to his chest, face screwed up in pain. His dad is worried, though he'd never admit it. Could anyone else run Ankh-Morpork the way Vetinari does?
"You'd think he'd go on forever," Sam says.
"I guess no one does."
Ginger hums a tune under her breath. Sam knows that his parents – and Ginger's – would like it, in a sort of kindly parental way if Ginger and Young Sam got a bit further than best friends. When his dad tries to be chummy and companiable (which Sam doesn't like, dad's much more likeable when he's being himself), he occasionally mentions "that pretty red-head girl" and winks.
Everyone at school teases him about Ginger, everyone is waiting for them to hold hands when they walk through the streets. Everyone expects it. He's been asked, "When are you just going to kiss her already?"
Classic story, isn't it? The two pairings, in the same job, good friends, have two kids, and the kids get together. Ginger's certainly pretty, and Sam loves her almost more than anyone else. But does he love her in that way? Sometimes when he gets a whiff of her beautiful hair, or she catches him off beat with a beautiful smile, he gets pleasant tingles in his stomach.
Maybe. Besides, she's only thirteen. And a half.
His hand reaches into his pocket and he pulls out something he's been wondering whether to give to her or not. A crumpled rose.
He presses it into her palm. She tilts her head in surprise.
"It's….it's for you."
"Oh." She looks at the red flower, then at him.
"Sam."
He exhales.
"I know people say…things…but I'm thirteen, Sam, and…"
"I know. I'm sorry. I just…"
"I like you a lot, Sam, but I think we're probably better off as friends."
"Yeah, you're probably right." He grins and slips off the wall. "Race you to Pseudopolis Yard?"
"I'm gonna beat you!" She runs, all graceful movement. The rose slips unheeding from her hand and falls into a gutter.
The sun sets over the city. Ginger, son of Carrot, and Young Samuel, run through the crowded streets, shoving each other.
That evening, a tired Sam Vimes, feeling old, returns to his wife and boy, who seems taller every time he sees him.
That night, married parents, Carrot and Angua Ironfoundersson wander through the streets, remembering the moonlit chases and brief kisses in deserted alleys of fifteen years ago.
There :) I hope it wasn't too soppy or weirdly abstract or disjointed, I just felt like writing it that way.
At first Ginger and Young Sam were gonna kiss on the wall. But I thought, nah that's too cliche, so...yeah.
Read & review pwease.