A/N: Heyy all. Well, this is weird being back here after so long. I wouldn't be surprised if nobody remembered be. Oh well. That's the price you pay for not writing for nearly a year. It's pretty crappy since I've been off so long, but hopefully I'll get back to my normal self shortly. Try to enjoy it nevertheless.
Title: Old Habits Don't Die
Word Count: 690
Pairings: Sam/Jules
Prompt: Milk Cartons
Post Run, Jamie, Run. This story is dedicated to all my Jammers. :)
Sam's hand groped deftly through the back of the refrigerator in hopes of stumbling across a second bottle of Alexander Keith's. Instead, it settled upon a carton of milk, which he presumed to be long past its expiry, due to its position in the far right corner of the fridge. Nevertheless, his fingers tightened around it and he drew it out from the sparsely inhabited upper shelf, moving its mouth to his lips and taking a quick swig.
Yes, he drank straight from the carton. Why? Because his father told him not to. Even after over thirty years of doing so, he smirked. There was still something satisfying about doing things that his hardass father would have disapproved of. When you're told you can't do something, what's the fun of not doing it? Rules were meant to be broken. At least, in his eyes they were.
However, not everyone saw life as he did, he thought, as the sound of hot water pummeling down onto marble tile and his sister humming a Kelly Clarkson song pounded in the back of his mind. Nat had always told him to grasp every opportunity in life, drilling into his mind that no moment enjoyed was a moment wasted. Although decidedly vain and impulsive, his older sister could often pull some rather philosophical advice out of the depths of her feminine mind. And tonight, she had left him probing himself for answers.
"The way I see it, Sammy, you've got this woman and you've got this job and sneaking around, it's not much of a five year plan." She paused, grinning empathetically. "Do you hear what I'm saying?"
On the base growing up, he lived to challenge his father's sovereignty. He shrouded his desire for a normal kid's life with a mask of brash machismo. In spite of that, transferring to an urban tactical unit taught him that arrogance and casual charm did not get you where you wanted to go, and that questioning the authority of, well, the authority, was not going to make a good impression on your fellow officers.
Grown accustomed to sneaking around and avoiding being indicted for illicit activities, he did not hesitate to eke out every last drop of whatever it had been between him and Julianna Callaghan. Just as soon as Sarge had assured Dr. Toth that whatever had been between he and Jules was finished, he felt that oppressive feeling of longing come upon him once again when he ran into her pretty doe eyes and rueful grin after his interview.
It wasn't going to go away, and knowing that hurt like hell. They'd made a promise to themselves, to their sergeant and in turn to the investigating officer that, with the best interest of the team's safety, they would never again be more than colleagues. So when she showed up at his house that afternoon, saying that he was surprised would have been the understatement of the century.
Her face was stone cold as she let herself into his apartment, he recalled. Eyes glazed over as if in a daze, she was fixated by inconceivable determination. Her whole body exuded lust as she stood statue-still in his foyer, and he could smell it on her. He stepped closer but she remained still. Why had she not pushed him away? Their lips met once again after what had been an incomprehensible amount of time. It had been much too long. His hands shook as they roamed across her satin curves. The clock stood still. They were body to body, skin to skin and there was no stopping them now. No turning back, no regrets.
Even after all this time he still craved Julianna Callaghan. Why? Because it was against the rules, because she completed him and because he loved her.
Sam sat back down in the den after finally replacing the expired milk for a second bottle of beer, racking his brain for rational answers to the question. It was simple.
Because old habits don't die.
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