The Pandora Box
Disclaimer: I refuse to do this again. No, don't make me.
It was a velvet box; a royal blue velvet box.
She had a feeling of what it could be when her fingers grazed the smooth, unknown box. She should have left it alone then, but no, she just had to make sure that Sam was still asleep and proceed to investigate further, her initial intent to find his comfy old sweatshirt forgotten.
When she saw it, she stopped breathing.
Pinned to her spot, she was debating whether or not she wanted to know what was inside. She wasn't about to flatter herself –and scare herself silly—by stating for sure she knew it would be a ring, but what else could it be?
Five minutes must have passed, her standing there staring at the small box laying at the bottom of the drawer, when Sam groaned in his sleep. She grasped his shirts tightly- ironed the other night- crumpling them. Sam turned to his side and snagged her pillow before settling in once again. Still dazed, she grabbed the first shirt that caught her eyes and slipped it on.
As she walked out of the room, trying to remain quiet, she mentally went through the calendar. She didn't think Sam would hide a birthday present for a family member under ten layers of clothes. Her birthday was last month. It was too late for Valentine's Day and they'd just celebrated their anniversary a couple of weeks ago.
Either Sam had an affair- a thought that provoked the need to grab a ski mask and her Remy from the station- or he was in the mood to spend some money on jewelry.
She couldn't say the word.
As though moving on autopilot, she opened the fridge and took out some mangoes. Sam had surprised her one morning when she saw a blender sitting on the kitchen counter. He had said that it was a decision he probably would regret soon in the future, but it would have been too much of a hassle to carry hers back and forth from her house to his place. It was a thoughtful gesture and he had been rewarded accordingly.
Sam bought her blender, toaster and paints, not jewelry. However, the pendant of the necklace he had given her on yesteryear's Valentine's rested coolly against her chest, a reminder that his range of presents varied more than kitchen appliances. Okay, jewelry, but the necklace had been a first.
She was happy, she was scared.
She was relieved and confused.
She was beyond scared.
She was ecstatic.
Oh God.
Was that hope?
"Ah, Missus Braddock, how could you get up so early everyday is beyond me."
Jules' hand stopped mid-air. Behind her she could hear Nat's slippers scuff lazily on the wooden floor. She was dragging her feet the way her brother always did when he had morning shifts.
What did she say? Did she say Miss? Or Mrs? Misses? Could she repeat? Would she want to hear her say that again? No, she wouldn't. No.
Maybe?
"What did you just say?" Jules heard herself ask, her heartbeats were erratic. Technically, it should be Mrs. Granted, she's not… married to Sam yet –would she ever?- but calling her Miss Braddock would mean she's somewhat related to Sam and if that's the case it meant they'd been practicing ince-
Sniper breathing.
Nat looked up from the mess on the counter. Her eyes were droopy with faint mascara smudges under her eyes. Jules vaguely recalled hearing the front door open less than 4 hours ago. A sleepy and slightly tipsy Natalie Braddock. "Hmm? I said it was kind of amazing that you could drag your ass out of bed so early in the morning and still look so fresh."
She should ask, or not. Should she? Another glance at the black smudges was all it took. With some luck, Nat wouldn't even remember having this conversation in the afternoon.
Maybe she should.
"You know," she put the knife down, not wanting to get tempted. "You said Braddock."
Nat had said Braddock. Braddock and a velvet box could only mean one thing. That thing she didn't even want to say aloud, not even in the privacy of her mind.
But would Sam tell her about it? It's Natalie. Telling her was equivalent to telling Spike, which was an explanation in itself. But what if he asked her to help him picking it up? What if it's a ring? What if it's that kind of ring? What if it's not?
Damnit, Sam! Why would you do this to me?
Neatly plucked eyebrows rose, followed with a casual shrug of slender shoulders. Nat looked at Jules as though she had just asked a question with the most obvious answer. "Um, yeah, that's what it says on the back? I think I'm going back to bed. Thank God for weekends."
More scuffs against the floor before the carpeted hallway dampened her footsteps.
Jules released a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. She pressed her face against the back of her hand.
Of course. She was wearing Sam's shirt. That stupid custom Canuck's jersey from Spike. It had his name on it. Braddock.
Taking a deep long breath, she reached for the abandoned fruit knife and continued slicing the mangoes. She shouldn't have bothered to look for that stupid sweatshirt. But why couldn't he get more creative and look for a better place to hide that box? The box containing whatever it was in the box. It's probably not even a ring. She wouldn't let herself get worked up for nothing. Not saying that she would be disappointed if it turned out to be anything but a ring. There was still a lot to consider anyway- the job, the team, the chiefs, the rules, the venue, the honeymoon…
"Are you going to make my neighbors try your infamous smoothie too?" Sam's teasing question was preceded by a delicate kiss on her shoulder.
She slammed the knife down, sending several pieces of slippery mangoes flying from the board before landing back with a squishy noise. "Geez, Sam, I'm holding a sharp object in my hand. You probably should've considered that before sneaking up on me."
"Wouldn't be the first time." He delivered another kiss above her ear before he took a seat on the stool across her. "Those are a lot of mangoes, Jules."
She looked down and realized he had a point. She had enough to feed the entire floor. Ignoring him, she wiped her hands clean and plugged the blender. Anything to make her hands busy. "It's 8 o'clock on a Saturday, whatever are you doing up so early?"
"I reached for you, you weren't there." It was a good answer, accompanied by that boyish smile she had grown to love. Smug bastard. "Did I hear Nat talking?"
"I think she's sleepwalking." She peered at him from under her lashes. He was staring. Sure, Sam had a tendency to stare at her, knowing that she knew whenever he did. He gained pleasure knowing that it made her squirm. It was nothing unusual; it was no big deal.
But what if right now was the moment? What if he thought it was romantic to 'ask the question' bare-chested, clad only in a pair of worn boxers which used to be black and not grey, over her infamous mangoes? Maybe he thought by doing it now he would save himself from having to drink her smoothie for breakfast.
Or maybe, Jules kindly reminded herself, it wasn't even a ring.
Silence fell upon them. A comfortable one for him, perhaps, but it was nearly excruciating on her part. Everybody was probably still sleeping and Sam had chosen an apartment high enough she couldn't even hear the birds chirping or the cars honking.
She couldn't look at him. She didn't know how to act around him, yet, which was why she was very thankful when he slid out of his chair and made his way to the living room, pressing another peck on cheek when he walked passed her.
This had got to stop, but she knew it wouldn't until she knew what was in that box. Until he felt it was time for her to know what was in that box. She should've opened it. Being kept in the dark like this was killing her.
"Hey, Jules,"
She swallowed. "Um, yeah?"
"That shirt looks a lot better on you than me. It suits you."
What? Why? Because it said 'Braddock' on the back or-
Damnit.
-end-
I personally don't know why I wrote this. Maybe because I haven't opened Ms. Word for so long and I missed Helvetica. I know this probably sucked, but it was kinda fun to write. Hope you enjoyed.