Holdin' On
Summary: Sam always took pride in his truck; now it's a mess and he needs to change it.
Based on Rascal Flatts song - Holdin' On
"He's holdin' on, to the wheel, to the way she made him feel"
Disclaimer: I Ashley Swarek (Pen Name Andyswarek) do not in any way, profit from this story and all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
He'd spent months undercover pretending to be someone else, on the odd occasion he'd gone from one assignment straight into another one. It was how he liked it. Kept him from thinking things... Kept him from seeing life passing him by. He wasn't like Oliver; he didn't have a wife and kids sat at home to welcome him back from a long day at work. When Sam went home he went home to an empty house.
He'd played drug dealers often; even gained himself a few informants along the way; he'd sympathized with several of the people he'd encountered. He knew how to remain in control of tough situations; knew when he was in too deep and he needed to get out. His stint undercover had ended when she'd ran him down and jumped on him.
He'd admired her persistence; he'd scarpered from her twice and she'd still managed to have him in a set of cuffs without any assistance from her training officer.
It had to be his luck that Jerry outed him in front of the biggest snitch in Toronto's drug circles. There was no way he could go back under. His face would have been circulated quicker than an APB.
He'd half expected to have been paired with her; Boyko liked his officers running like a well oiled machine. If they weren't they were stuck in a squad car day in day out until they got along. He hadn't expected becoming her training officer and he hasn't anticipated her loyalty to her partner and most definitely hadn't expected that kind of tension between them.
He'd bought his truck the morning after they'd disregarded that almost kiss. If he was gonna be offering anyone a ride home it wasn't going to be in a car that had more rust work than paint.
He'd let her drive it a total of three times. She ribbed him when he went crazy about a drop of melted ice cream that had dropped onto his seat. He made sure the truck was cleaned every Sunday and detailed every second week. It gave him a sense of being in control.
When he was with her he spiralled on emotions, ones he couldn't pull back from. Didn't want to pull back from. She made him feel like he was floating.
And then it ended; he ended it. Gave her some line 'I can't be a cop and be with you' he'd placed them into a cliche; a line he'd heard many a time throughout the station.
He'd been foolish to think he could end it just like that and not feel anything. He'd blamed it on the fact she still had his extra set of keys. His feelings remained even after she'd tossed them back at him.
He started leaving trash in his truck. He could control that. He'd even scolded Oliver when he tried to tidy it up. It hit him like a thunder bolt when Shaw informed him he'd made a mistake. He realized it when he saw the bruise on her cheek. Even more so when her name came up on his caller ID the look on her face telling him it wasn't her and she'd probably never ring him out of work again.
Then he saw the bomb in her hands; the tears on her cheek. He'd confessed the depth of his feelings. She told him with a different set of words that he'd chosen the most inconvenient time and place to tell her.
He knew she didn't believe him; not until later.
He sat nursing a beer; sat facing the door. He chased the water droplets down her glass. They were messy didn't care which way they made their way down the glass. He'd been focused on one particular droplet that he didn't see her until she was seated beside him.
A relieved smile crossed his face as he handed the beer over.
Tonight he'd clean his truck; for now their relationship was the only mess he needed.