Figuratively Speaking

Disclaimer: You'll know what's mine and what's not.

:: Dedicated to a friend who celebrates her birthday today. I know that you said we had no lives, but I love you nonetheless and I think you'll find this piece sort of… amusing. Happy birthday!

:: For the timeline, let's say this takes place before Steve and his fries show up.

"Jules?"

"Decent."

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door, opening the way to Jules' locker room and the door to the locked old memories that had never resurfaced until a few days ago. As he walked further inside, the rush of unforgettable moments that had taken place in that very place hit him like a tidal wave. Images played before him like a movie reel, all the good and the bad, both heartwarming and heartbreaking. Not for the first time, Sam Braddock asked himself whatever had happened between them.

She dumped you, Sam. The answer's as plain as day.

Unlike the first time he barged inside her locker room, this time he found Jules leaning against the counter, fully clothed, while polishing her Glock. She paused and glanced up briefly, her eyes shining with unspoken questions.

"The guys are heading out to grab some beers. Wanna join us?" Sam asked, choosing his words with care. The temptation to make any remarks when he saw her curling iron laying next to some pain cream was strong, but at the end decided against it. He wouldn't push his luck this evening.

"Hmm… not sure, we've been hanging out a lot these days." Jules said, putting down her handgun on the counter. Her lips pursed tightly, so he knew that she was reconsidering the invitation.

It felt majorly weird to be there at all. He hadn't stepped inside the locker room ever since their relationship ended. Then Leah came along and Jules had to share the changing room with another person. He had never really had any reason to go in.

While Jules was weighing her options, Sam took his time to look over the room. Nothing much had changed. The iconic curling iron was still there, along with the sticker of Let's Keep the Peace on the right corner of the mirror. As Jules had left her locker open, he noticed that she had put two new additional pictures; one of her and her brothers and the other was of her and Lew. They were smiling widely at the camera and from the surrounding it was obviously taken at the Goose.

The room even still smelled the same. A faint smell of some chemical cleaning product layered with Jules' familiar perfume and honeysuckle room spray-fragrance.

"I don't think it's healthy for me to be around you guys more than necessary. Over testosterone filled environment and all that jazz."

Sam chuckled, mirth apparent on his blue eyes. "What, don't tell me you'd rather stay over at Winnie's, watching Grey's Anatomy rerun while painting each other's nails?"

Jules arched a neatly plucked eyebrow. "What, don't tell me you want to have your nails done?"

Sam rolled his eyes, he couldn't help it. He sometimes forgot that Jules was blessed with a smart tongue, no pun intended. "Very funny, Jules."

The silent conversation they slipped into a second later was soothingly comforting like a downy blanket. "Come on, you could always buy me a drink."

"Is that your best pick-up line to convince me to go with you?"

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Yeah, dream on."

They exchanged heated stare for a long ten seconds before Jules broke the eye-lock. His eyes softened as he watched Jules pushed herself up onto the counter and began to clean her gun once more; anything to busy herself.

One of these days, he would make her understand that he was well aware there were lines that were not to be crossed. His heart ached thinking how one minute it felt like they had never broken up and the next second a huge abyss would be gaping open between them.

"You're re-doing your house?" He changed the subject, taking the liberty to pull out a Home Depot catalog peaking out of her duffel bag.

"It's for Wordy. Shelley has taken up a keen interest in home decorating. The last time I heard she wanted to remodel their kitchen. You know him, he's pretty much wrapped around her little finger."

Sam nodded. Coming from a family that wasn't exactly a Brandy Bunch, Wordy's solid relationship with his family always amazed him. It made him hopeful and put a whole new perspective in his mind that it wasn't impossible for a police officer with crazy schedules and hectic working hours to have a perfect family. Well, as perfect as a family could get anyway.

Sam surveyed the variety of color pallets, finding no difficulties in finding a color as familiar as the locker room itself. The faintest of smiles grazed his lips. "And here I thought you had grown tired seeing that Santorini Blue. Perhaps it's time to move on to some other color. Parisian Crimson, perhaps?" He snorted, studying a deep burgundy color palette. "That sounded so kinky. They sure put a lot of efforts to get creative naming all these, didn't they?"

Jules shook her head in defeat, a frown creasing her brow. "I won't even bother to correct you for what's probably the umpteenth time. That's just sad, Sam, sad. You should be ashamed of yourself. Your Swiss cheese memory wasn't exactly what I would have expected from someone who could snipe any way from any distance."

To hear such an acknowledgment from Jules was highly amusing. He'd always thought that he was a better sniper. "Santorini Sky, Santorini Blue, Santorini Heaven… what difference does it make, really? It's blue."

"Are you trying to make a point here?"

Sam shrugged. "It's been over a year, maybe you want to get a change of atmosphere, try some other color this time. Are you ready for another round of drywall priming?"

It was an honest question yet he found a deep pink blush creeping up her neck nonetheless. Seeing her face flush a shade of pink was like a smack on the side of his head. He wasn't implying any other meaning and he wasn't sure if mentioning it to Jules would be a smart thing to do.

He definitely didn't mean any of that.

It was no metaphor or analogy, period.

Of course, it's probably just him and Jules wasn't thinking about the vigorous activities they'd done while and after priming her drywall.

Jules' smirk put a stop to his train of thoughts and his heart dropped a beat. "For a while I almost forgot just how much you loved priming drywall."

Sam blinked. Did she just, –

"I'll come out in a bit. Tell Ed that the passenger seat has been reserved." Jules hoped off the counter and walked towards her locker, her fingers fumbling with the top buttons of her uniform. Her shirt was halfway undone when she realized that Sam hadn't moved from his spot. "As much as I know you're hoping to see some striptease, that's never going to happen, so please, excuse yourself." She went on with an admirable lack of discomfort.

The gentle scolding startled him and he realized that he had been staring. Mentally kicking himself, he quickly gathered his composure. Yeah, Sam, the pleasure isn't really yours any longer. "I didn't know you were wishing that I was hoping to see you strip."

Jules looked dangerously close from grabbing her gun and planting a bullet on his head. "That's cute, Sam."

Sam turned around, making a move to leave but not before picking up her curling iron on his way out. "You still use curling iron?"

"Now, Sam!" She snapped and he was glad that she couldn't see the ever growing smile on his face. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost hear Jules saying that exact same line with an entirely different tone of voice.

His grin widened as he closed the door. The locker room would always be one of his favorite places.

:)