A/N: This is my version of how G and Sam spend Christmas 2010, the first that Callen has spent in his very own home. The inspiration came from Sam's past as a SEAL, when he would have had to do a lot of swim training. I thought he might miss being in the water. :)
Aquamarine
by Filthy Bunny
(Now)
Callen stands at the kitchen counter with his morning coffee, staring through the glass doors at the makings of another beautiful California day. Right in the centre of his field of vision is his favourite part of the view: the swimming pool that cuts a long blue strip out of his back yard; or, more specifically, the dark figure slicing swiftly through the water.
Callen's eyes never leave the swimmer as he powers from one end of the long, narrow channel to the other, back and forth, time after time. First the crawl, then the back crawl; moving on to the butterfly; sometimes the SEAL combat side stroke, for old times' sake. At the end of each length he executes a smooth, perfect roll and in the blink of an eye is heading back again. Occasionally the rhythmic splashing that punctuates the morning air stops as the swimmer vanishes beneath the surface for seemingly impossible lengths of time, barely stirring the surface as he propels himself seal-like through the depths. Back and forth. The warm light catches on the spray from the water and makes the swimmer's arms gleam like bronze when they break the surface.
This is Callen's favourite part of the day. The daylight steadily brightening his kitchen. The traffic still only a vague, distant hum beyond the sounds from the pool. The mingling smells of coffee and chlorine. With the dramas of the day yet to begin, he can for this moment be still. Finally, 'home' has an authentic meaning to him.
(Then)
Christmas Day.
Callen had been living in his own house for months now, and for the first time ever, Sam was coming to him for Christmas. Admittedly, he was also bringing the food and cooking dinner for them both, although it hadn't taken much persuasion; Callen was not a natural talent in the kitchen. He had done his part by buying snacks and stocking the fridge with beer. He had also given in to Sam's weeks of nagging and bought a futon couch that folded out into a bed, so they had somewhere to sit, sleep, and... Anyway, it would keep Sam happy.
And then, of course, there was Sam's Christmas present. Callen was feeling particularly proud of himself on that front. He had never been good at Christmas or birthdays or any other occasion that involved the careful selection of gifts, whereas Sam put a lot of thought into these things. As a result G had felt he owed Sam something special after at least five years of failing to deliver.
He went into the kitchen, which was far too large for a man who lived alone and whose only culinary tools were a microwave and a takeout menu, and took a beer from the fridge. It was still morning, but if you couldn't start drinking before lunchtime on Christmas Day then it wasn't worth celebrating at all in his opinion. He cracked the bottle cap and went to stand at the glass doors that opened onto the yard.
After a few minutes he heard the sound of tyres rumbling up the driveway at the front of the house. Sam was here. Callen wandered back into the living room to meet him at the front door. Standing on the front step in his bare feet, Callen watched as Sam unloaded grocery bag after grocery bag from the back seat of his car.
"You know there's only two of us, right?" he called. "Unless you invited a group of needy orphans round for dinner." Sam looked over his shoulder and smiled, and yet another bag emerged. "Or perhaps the inhabitants of an entire West African country..."
Sam kicked the car door shut as he balanced two armloads. "Don't feel under any pressure to help me out," he retaliated. Callen stepped in and took some of the sacks from his partner's arms before they could start spilling their contents onto the driveway, and followed him into the house.
"I don't suppose you remembered to put the oven on when I told you to?" Sam asked as Callen pushed the front door closed.
"Ah. I was... just about to."
Sam rolled his eyes and headed for the kitchen. He was already crouched down packing things into the refrigerator when Callen walked in.
"Seriously, Santa Claus, what is all this stuff?" Callen dropped his bags down onto the worktop and peered inside one of them.
"Be careful with that," Sam scolded. "You'll crush the raspberries." He stood up and shut the fridge door. "And don't worry, it's not all food. I had to bring a lot with me because somebody still refuses to stock his kitchen with more than a few plastic plates and a bottle opener." He started rummaging in another bag, pulling out dishes and pans of varying sizes. Callen watched him fondly. They were so different, he and Sam; yet that seemed to be why they worked so well together.
"Leave that for a second," he said. "I want to show you something."
Sam looked around and smiled wickedly. "Is it bigger than a baby's arm?"
"Considerably."
Callen led a curious Sam to the doors overlooking the rear garden. Before he had even got the door open, he heard a little gasp of surprise. Sam's eyes widened as he stared past Callen out into the yard.
"Holy shit," he said as he stepped outside. For a minute he was dumbfounded as he gaped at the garden's immaculate new feature. "G, you got a pool," he managed at last.
"You like it?"
"It's incredible." Sam walked over to the edge and crouched down to dip his fingers in the water, as though he couldn't quite believe it was real. "Is this why I haven't been allowed over for the last God-knows-how-many weeks?"
Callen smiled. "Surprise."
"It certainly is that," Sam said. "You know, you never cease to amaze me, G. A man who doesn't own a stick of furniture suddenly shells out to have a pool built."
"Hey, I now own a futon," Callen argued. "And a pool." He watched Sam for a moment. "Don't you want to try it out?"
Sam's eyebrows lifted. "Right now?"
"Why not? The food can wait."
Sam's face broke into a huge smile, and without any further encouragement he started unlacing his boots. He tossed them to one side and peeled off his t-shirt. He had started unfastening his belt when he looked back at Callen, who was just standing there eyeing him with a smile of contented amusement on his face.
"Aren't you coming in?" Sam asked, reaching out to pluck at the hem of G's shirt.
"Nah," Callen replied. "I'm not much of a swimmer."
"What? You've got to be kidding me." Callen shook his head. "So why in hell did you-" Sam pointed at the pool. As he scanned through his memories, he couldn't recall Callen ever having expressed a love of swimming, or a desire to own... well, pretty much anything, but least of all a pool. Sam, however, had done so on many occasions. He had loved to swim since childhood and his prowess in the water was one of the reasons he had first been attracted to the SEALs. "Wait a second. Don't tell me you did all this-" He broke off in disbelief. Just for me, he added silently.
Callen just shrugged.
"G..."
Callen waved him away and turned back towards the house. "I'll put the oven on. Come get a shower when you're done."
Sam watched G retreat to the kitchen, and almost chased after to grab him tight and kiss the breath out of him. But the overgrown child in him was too excited to play with his new toy. And that was probably exactly what Callen wanted, too. To see Sam enjoy himself. His show of gratitude could come later.
Sam quickly stripped down to his shorts and removed his watch. December in LA may be a little too cool for most people to take to their pools, but it was perfectly warm enough for Sam, who barely paused before diving cleanly into the deep end. The sudden change in temperature sent a shock through his entire body, and he welcomed the rush it gave him. He kicked up to the surface and broke into a swift, steady crawl.
He missed swimming so badly. He often dreamed of upgrading to a place with a pool, but he liked his house too much to give it up easily, not to mention that he was kept far too busy with work to think about property hunting and moving home. Of course, living in Los Angeles, he could swim at the beach if he wanted to, or visit a public pool. But somehow it never ended up happening, and since he had started at NCIS, running had taken the place of swimming in his daily regimen. Running was a dirty, unpleasant grind in comparison. The dust and the people and the stink of exhaust were too distracting to let him completely unwind. But when he swam it was like meditation. His mind emptied of everything but the water and the sun warm on his back. Time disappeared.
After a while he paused, heart pounding from exertion, and rested both arms on the pool's edge as he looked around at the garden. Callen had thought about the use of space carefully. The pool had been dug off to one side of the lawn so that the Rostoffs' old wooden garage at the top of the drive and the tree in the middle of the garden could remain untouched. The swing hanging from that tree had been there since Callen stayed here as a boy, he had told Sam once. He remembered watching from his bedroom window as four-year-old Alina had pushed her dolls on the swing. With all the happy memories this house held for G, it must have taken a lot for him to decide to churn up a big section of the yard.
He had given some consideration to the pool's shape, too. It was a fair bit longer than your regular garden variety, and narrower: a lot more efficient for a single athlete to practise endurance swimming. Sam smiled. G had definitely been planning this for him, and Sam was deeply touched. He kicked away from the edge and swam some more.
When he was finally done, Sam hauled himself out of the water and looked around for a towel. There was none, so he went back inside and found Callen in the kitchen, unpacking the remaining bags of food and utensils onto the worktop.
Callen took a long look at his partner standing in the doorway, water dripping off his arms and legs and puddling on the tiled floor, his sodden boxers hanging low on his hips. Sam breathed slow and deep as he stretched his arms and rotated his shoulders. He was practically glowing with satisfaction.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" Callen asked him.
Sam exhaled in a happy sigh. "Oh, yeah." He stretched his arms again. "But I'm not as fast as I used to be. It's been so long since I last swam; I'm out of shape."
Callen cocked an eyebrow at him. "If you're out of shape, where does that leave the rest of the human race?"
Sam didn't reply, just walked forwards and took G's face in his hands, and kissed him so deeply and tenderly that neither of them was aware of anything but each other. Within seconds, the front of Callen's shirt and jeans were soaked as Sam's wet body pressed into him. Callen's hands went to Sam's waist to hold him close.
"Merry Christmas," Callen said when they finally broke for air.
"That's one hell of an extravagant Christmas gift, G," Sam said softly. He was still smiling, but Callen sensed a note of concern in his voice.
"Yeah, well. You may have noticed that I don't often spend money on anything else, so I had some to spare."
"You're a crazy son of a bitch," Sam said against G's mouth between kisses.
"I'll take that as a 'thank you'," G replied. He dragged his hands over Sam's wet body, digging blunt nails into the muscles in his back. Sam's moist skin was cooling fast in the shaded kitchen, but Callen could feel the heat from his aquatic workout throbbing underneath. Sam had unbuttoned Callen's shirt and now let it slide off his shoulders onto the floor before lowering his head to kiss along G's collarbone and up his throat.
"Oh, I haven't even started the 'thank you' yet," he told G. "But follow me into the shower, and I'll see what I can do."
(Now)
Callen smiles to himself. Yes, the pool has certainly proved a worthy addition to his home. He gets just as much enjoyment from it as Sam does, without having to dip so much as a toe in the water. Watching Sam is return enough on the investment.
Before long, Sam has finished his swim and boosts himself out of the far end of the pool on his huge arms. G watches him stretch in the sun, the water glistening on his body before he reaches for a towel. Just before Sam turns towards the house, Callen leaves his spot by the door and returns to the counter to set down his empty cup. For some reason, he doesn't want Sam to know about his little morning ritual, afraid that perhaps some of the magic will be lost if his partner knows he is being observed.
Sam lets himself into the kitchen and smiles when he sees Callen standing there, dressed only in crumpled pyjama pants.
"Morning, you," Sam says.
He leaves a trail of damp footprints as he crosses the floor. He picks up the second coffee mug sitting ready on the worktop. He leans in to kiss Callen, lips warm and unhurried against his lover's, one hand planted on G's hip to draw him closer. Even after three years together, their morning kiss is a moment each of them anticipates and savours.
G lets his eyes remain closed for a second after Sam withdraws, enjoying the taste and smell of his partner. He never expected that chlorine would become his favourite fragrance.
He glances at the digital display on the oven as Sam pads out of the room. It's still early enough. If they pick up breakfast on the way to work, they needn't be late... He smiles and sets off after Sam. The shower is already running in the bathroom.