Title: Eyes Forward
Prompt: jogging
Disclaimer: Ryan Murphy created them. I just like playing with the moulds.
"Try and keep up, Sam." Brooke grinned, looking back at the brunette over her shoulder while keeping the rhythm of her fast paced jog. Sam, glistening with a fine sheen of sweat and fumbling for the water bottle at her hip, glared back.
"Eyes forward, Princess. Wouldn't want you running into something and end up looking like Marsha Brady after the football incident." Brooke's head turned away, but her laughter floated back to the lagging reporter. "I don't know why I even invited you. I think I had a momentary brain lapse where I forgot you were annoying."
"Mmm." The blonde hummed thoughtfully. "Same reason I accepted." Sam rolled her eyes and they fell silent. There was a stitch in her side and her legs felt like they were going to fall off, but it was a beautiful day and Brooke was still running, so she couldn't give in yet.
Her eyes scanned the passing surroundings as they ran. Moderately busy streets, but the people on the sidewalks made room for them to pass. She watched the concrete slabs, cracked in places, flow beneath her feet as she ran over them, unconsciously taking a larger stride over the damaged ones.
And then her eyes lifted and caught sight of the running shoes pounding the pavement ahead of her. Travelled up softly toned, lightly tanned bare legs, and silky-looking thighs that disappeared beneath baby-blue shorts. Shorts that fit snugly and accented Brooke's behind. Then her gaze was pulled almost painfully to the side, just in time to see the dull silver-grey of the lamppost before they snapped closed again on impact. There was a hollow-sounding 'thunk', then a searing pain in her forehead and nose, and then the feel of sun-warmed sidewalk.
"Sam!" Brooke yelled, somewhere behind the black spots clouding Sam's vision. "God, you're bleeding. Are you okay?" Sam groaned in answer, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of her throbbing nose. She took Brooke's offered hand and was helped into a standing position. "How the hell did you manage that?" Sam blinked, and then winced at the pain, praying she wouldn't have a black eye but knowing better.
"Wasn't paying attention to where I was walking." Brooke rolled her eyes and looped an arm through Sam's to steer her as the reporter tilted her head back.
"Come on, Marsha. Let's get you home and find you an ice pack."
"You're not going to let me forget this, are you?" Brooke smirked.
"Oh, hell no."