Burn Notice: I don't own it, I just like to play with it.
If Wishes Were Horses
By WritePassion
My name is Nina Kirk, and this is my story of how an innocent Burn Notice marathon turned into something beyond my wildest dreams.
I'd set up the perfect marathon watching environment consisting of my favorite TV watching pillow with the Burn Notice cast ironed on the surface. I made it myself and was pretty proud of it. Sam Axe's face was where I lay my head, a position that I often second-guessed. I should have put Anson's face there instead, because then I could smother him with my head every night. Anyway, I had my pillow propped on the couch arm, a big bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, a plate of nachos warming in the oven, and the fixings for mojitos waited on the counter, to be interspersed with doses of iced tea, of course. I had to pace myself if I wanted to make it through sixty hours of Burn Notice bliss.
The remote was ready and so was I. With the first drink and the nachos on the table, I picked up the device, hit the button, and my entire weekend belonged to Michael Westen and gang. I vowed to stay awake through every second. My friends didn't get my obsession, and so I indulged alone, wrapped in hours of exciting plots with my TV friends. Some would think I was crazy, but I never really cared much what other people thought of me.
Sometime in the wee hours between Saturday night and Sunday morning, I heard banging outside my apartment. My muddy brain thought gunshots, but the rhythm was too quick and even. Then I heard a muffled voice, and my eyes flew open. On the screen, Fiona entered Michael's hotel room with her hefty luggage full of a variety of weapons. She unloaded the rifle that was almost as big as her petite frame and she stood before him asking where Michael wanted her.
"Please, open up!"
That wasn't on TV. I gasped and jumped off the couch to approach the door. Looking through the peephole first, I saw no one on the other side. It must have been my imagination. But no, inside I had a feeling that I needed to open that door, so I unlocked it and did just in time to see a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt running down the hall to the next apartment.
"Wait! Please wait!" I should have just let him go. He seemed to have an idea where he was headed.
He turned and I blinked. His face was taut with tension, but at the sound of my voice offering him sanctuary, it softened a little and he smiled. "Thanks." He strode to my door.
I didn't realize that I'd even said anything, but apparently I must have invited him into my apartment. I gaped as he got closer and I was able to recognize him in the soft hall light. No, this couldn't be happening. He wasn't real. "Y-you're Sam Axe?"
"In the flesh, honey." He was wary, looking both ways down the hall. "Now, you invited me in. Can I get in there before these guys come back? They're probably sending reinforcements, so I gotta call my friends." He stopped scanning the area and faced me. "I hope you have a secure line."
"I have a landline, if that's what you mean." I nodded and stepped aside to let him in, just enough so his silky sleeve touched my bare arm and I breathed in the scent of Old Spice and musky perspiration with a twist of lavender. I closed my eyes as the aroma made my toes curl into the carpet.
"Woah, was I interrupting something?"
My eyes flew open as I realized the state of my living room, and I wondered what Sam was thinking about the pillow case and the show on the television. I slammed the door, locked it, bolted it, and sped past him to flip the pillow over on my way to the remote to turn off the TV.
"The, uh, phone is in the kitchen on the wall." I pointed to the doorway, grinning and sensing the heat in my cheeks. I could barely breathe as I watched him turn and disappear into the other room.
"Thanks." Sam went through the archway, and I soon heard him speaking to someone on the phone. How could that be if he was just a fantasy, a figment of my imagination?
I tried not to eavesdrop on his call and instead concentrated on cleaning up the evidence of my self-indulgent television orgy.
"Yeah, Mike, I'm safe for now... If I knew, I'd tell ya. I'm in an apartment somewhere. It was weird. I was running through the alley, found this door open, and suddenly I had this feeling that I wasn't where I was supposed to be... I don't know. I'll lay low, and you should too, and I'll figure out where I am... Uh huh, I'll see you in three days at that location. Good luck, Brother... bye."
I entered the kitchen with my dirty dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, and I felt his eyes on me. I realized I was being a terrible hostess. I hadn't even introduced myself! Straightening and pulling the reddish blonde hair from my eyes, I said, "Hi, I'm Nina Kirk." I held out my hand and he took it. The firm but warm grip sent electricity down to my toes and caused my cheeks to flush again.
"Nice to meet you, Nina. I'm Sam. Sam Axe." He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes to examine me. "But somehow you already knew that." He smirked. "Considering the trouble I'm in right now, I should have worried about that, but for some reason when I saw you I knew I was safe here."
My smile grew as I replied, "You're perfectly safe, Sam. No one will know that you're here."
At that moment, someone pounded hard on the door, shaking it in its frame. "Open up! Open up before we break door down!"
I recognized the accent. "Russians! What are Russians doing here," I rasped.
"They're looking for me." Sam's face turned ashen.
With no time to think, I pulled on his sleeve and led him to the bedroom. The fabric was as soft and as tactilely erotic as I'd expected it to be. I hid a smile from him. "Now, get under the covers! Wait! Take off your clothes first."
"What? Why?"
"Well, it'll help sell my story," I replied as I stripped off my pajama bottoms. I left on my tank top with the spaghetti straps. I still had some sense, of course. Standing before him in the navy top and matching panties, I continued, "I have to make them think that they woke me, and if they come in here I'll explain my boyfriend is sleeping and he... never mind, just do it!" In my mid 40s and still in good shape, it was plausible that I could be his girlfriend, although in reality it was out of the question. He was supposed to be a fictional character, after all!
I spun from the room but couldn't help glancing back for a moment to see if Sam followed my instructions. He looked at me with doubt of my sanity on his face, but he slipped out of his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt in a hurry. I gave him a few seconds while I stood at the door, flinching at the violence with which the man on the other side assaulted it, and I mussed up my hair.
"Who is it," I spoke. I still don't know how I managed to sound so calm.
"Is not important. We want Sam Axe," the Russian replied.
"Doesn't everybody," I replied smartly.
My sense of humor was lost on the Russian. "We know he is here somewhere."
"Yeah, well, it's just me and my boyfriend and we're getting pretty pissed off at you banging on the door. Knock it off or I'll call the cops!" I was getting pretty bold with that inch and a half piece of wood between us. No doubt he had an AK or something on the other side and could turn me into Swiss cheese if he felt the need. "There's nobody here named Sam Axe. Get over it, guys. He's a TV character, not real life!"
I heard a lot of rumbling on the other side. I pressed my ear to the door and couldn't decipher more than a couple of words, and I wished I'd learned my Babooshka's native tongue. The voices faded away, but the Russians didn't leave. They attacked the next door with the same vigor. At least they would leave us alone, but for how long?
After watching all the episodes over and over again, I racked my tired brain for the information I needed to get us out of this. But I was a complete blank. I wandered back to the bedroom and smiled at the large lump under my quilt.
"Sam? Sam, they're gone from my door and are checking the others. What should we do? Should I call the cops?"
He didn't answer. For a moment, I thought maybe it was all my imagination, and the pounding had been some drunk dude coming home to the wrong apartment. But no, I know what I heard. My feet took me around the bed to the left side where I saw that the lump was indeed Sam. His eyes were closed. In the pale lamp light I stood watching him sleep and my heart lurched into my throat. He must have run himself to exhaustion. I knelt beside the bed and dared to reach out to touch his scruffy cheek. I still wasn't sure this was for real, but his skin was warm and pliable to the pressure from my fingertips, proving that he was indeed genuine flesh and blood.
I sat with legs folded under me on the floor and I watched him. He brought a hand out from under the covers and scratched his perfect nose. It was all I could do to keep from sighing in joy. His lips moved as if he was about to speak, but he settled again with the hand slipped under his cheek. The soft, even sound of his breath pierced my heart.
I pushed the hair back from my forehead and berated myself. I had too many mojitos and this was my punishment, a hallucination of my favorite Burn Notice character. I needed to get my butt off the floor, brush my teeth, floss, and get to bed. The whole marathon idea was ridiculous. Obviously my head couldn't take so much excitement in one sitting.
Even as I slipped in between the sheets, I continued to scold myself for my overactive imagination. The bed on the opposite side dipped from his weight, or so I thought. When I turned, I saw his silhouette in the dark. I lay on my back and let out a deep breath. Get over this, Nina. This is not real. It's not real. It's not... The litany in my head led me to a deep but dream-filled sleep.
The morning sun usually snuck into my eyes at this hour, but not today. It was probably cloudy, and I grumbled. Then I perked up, thinking that a rainy day was perfect for indulging in another Burn Notice marathon. Then, like a glass of cold water thrown in my face, I remembered everything that happened the night before. I shook my head. No, no more mojitos. That was one heck of a dream!
Someone mumbled and shifted, and a muscular male arm slithered across my chest. I felt the warmth of his body pressing into mine and his arm curled against my cheek and ear. My eyes flew open as he turned my head, and just before his lips captured mine, I noticed that Sam's eyes were closed. He must have thought I was Elsa! This was wrong, but on the other hand I thought, why look a gift horse in the mouth? It wasn't as if they were married, and they weren't real anyway, so why not enjoy the fantasy for awhile? I wrapped my arms around his neck and shoulders and dove into the depths of his kiss. He felt real enough, but maybe I was losing my grip on sanity. If so, I was determined to have fun going down that slope.
Every cell in my body came awake with the way Sam's lips made love to mine, and he left me breathless to the point where I thought I would pass out if I didn't break away and take a deep breath. I knew I was risking breaking the spell, but I wanted to be awake for whatever came next.
"Ohhhh, Elsa," Sam moaned as I took my breath. I gasped when his hand found my breast and played with the nipple. He chuckled low at how my body arched into him before tucking into the curve of my neck and shoulder and laying down a hot trail of kisses.
I couldn't believe my luck. His hands skimmed over me, one pushing up my top to gain better access to what was underneath, and the other dove down to my panties. His fingers teased around the side, making me wonder when he would remove the thin fabric. After all, I quickly discovered by my close proximity to him that he wasn't wearing anything.
"Sammmm," I breathed as the back of my hand skimmed over his skin, diving lower and lower. He was everything I dreamed of and more, and at my light touch, he pleased me with another moan.
His lips tore away from my skin, inches from my bare breast. His weight lightened, and with alarm I opened my eyes. He perched above, catching his breath and staring at me. He panted out the words. "What... what are you doing? You're not..."
"Elsa?" My eyebrow rose along with the corner of my mouth. "No, I'm not. I guess I could ask you what you're doing, but I know, and I have to say it was pretty good."
"I... I'm sorry... Nina." It took him a few moments, but he remembered my name. Embarrassment flashed across his face as he pulled back, gathered up enough sheet to wrap around his waist, and slipped off the bed. In the midst of his disorientation, I ogled his upper body. He'd been working out since last season, and I smiled in appreciation. Sam snagged his boxers from the floor and said, "Would you mind? I'd like to get dressed and get out of here." He swallowed hard. "I, uh, think I overstayed my welcome."
I frowned and blinked, fighting tears. I'd never been rejected so coldly before. Then again, I only had myself to blame, taking advantage of his dream to have him for myself. "Sure," I mumbled and flicked off the blanket, turned my back, and snatched up my robe from a chair near the bed. On my way to the kitchen I said, "Feel free to use the shower. I promise I won't... take advantage of you again."
I didn't wait around for an answer. Embarrassed at myself, I hurried to the kitchen to get the coffee started and make him some breakfast. It was the least I could do after humiliating him like that. If I could kick myself, I'd give myself a good swift boot to the state line.