What It Takes
Disclaimer: Flashpoint is still not mine.
Three words, eight letters, numerous times he wanted to say it, yet couldn't.
"Good luck, Jules."
Going on a shopping trip with his sister was definitely physically and mentally challenging. It certainly didn't help that he's often mistaken for her boyfriend by the store-clerks. He had to endure it once, and he swore that it was the first and last time he would ever let her talk him into one of her shopping in hell trips. She was free to borrow his eBay account, as long as she let him be.
"Jules, thank you."
She knew he hated her protein breakfast smoothies, and thus the perfect sunny-side up eggs, three strips of bacon and a stack of pancakes were deeply appreciated. It only happened three times a month –unless he's the one cooking and it didn't occur too often—but he wasn't about to start complaining. Sometimes he hoped she wouldn't be so conscious about eating healthy.
"Really sorry, Babe."
He had forgotten to set the alarm and in the middle of their chaotic morning, she found that he had once again left the toilet seat up. It wasn't a good combination – a rushed apology and a term of endearment—and he had to learn that the hard way. When he checked this morning, the bruise had started to fade into an ugly yellow.
"I need you."
He had shot not one, but two men and one of them hadn't been any older than his sister. SIU had interviewed him for a long four hours and when he was finally released, he drove straight to her place. Being with her eased his weary soul. She healed him just simply by existing. He needed noone like he did her.
"I want you."
She had no make-up, her hair was carelessly pulled back into a messy bun and his shirt modestly covered the most of her thighs. It was torturous. And she was rambling about tempting fate and eating out for a change, in a place he still couldn't remember because he had been too distracted. It was ridiculous. Like he would ever trade a very homey-looking Jules for a Jules in a dress.
Why was it so difficult?
Was it because of their uncertain future? Or was he waiting for her to say it first? Because the only time she had said those three words to him, she was ending their relationship.
Saying them out loud would make it real, and he wasn't sure if it's something they could handle right now. He wanted to believe that they could, however. God knows how painful it had been not to tell her when he woke up next to her in the morning, or simply just because he wanted to. There's nothing more honest and truer than that.
He didn't want to scare her away, making her feel obligated to say it back and chained to him forever. Not that he minded the last bit, because deep down he realized that one day he would make her his till death did they part.
It was a promise, one he didn't intend to break.
"G'night, Sam." Her eyes fluttered close, her breathing evening out.
He stroked her hair as he took his time to admire her profile. Starting from the long lashes that protected the eyes he loved so much, down to the gentle slope of her nose and the little valley between her nose and lips.
Not ten minutes had passed when he felt her body completely lax against his. He closed his eyes, drowning himself in her heady scent.
"I love you."
Three words, eight letters, numerous times he had wanted to say it, yet couldn't.
Not anymore.
:: Sam needs to tell her that anytime soon or I will start shooting someone, and that won't be pretty. Or maybe he did, off-screen. Well, I demand for an on-screen I-love-you declaration!
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