Look who's back…me?

Enjoy a one-shot with no purpose!

Review? Please?

"I think it's just a matter of you not trusting me." Jules crossed her arms tightly, letting out a huff as she stood her ground.

Sam shrugged and rose from the couch to cross the room and end up only inches away from her, "You're crazy—It's only a matter of I know best."

"Oh really? Need I show you my scar one more time?" She stooped to the lowest of the low. Bringing up the scar from her gunshot wound that Sam would never let her forgive him for having happened to her, he always felt it was his fault and nothing she said or did would change that.

His eyes tightened and he froze, "Don't you dare go there."

"I will if I have to."

"Don't." He said in a hushed tone, knowing the joke in her voice meant she wasn't serious—even she couldn't stoop that low.

"Then face it, you know that I know best—and you don't."

Sam reached past her to the counter and grabbed his beer, shaking it gently in her face and then taking a large swig, "Nope."

"Just let me decide, you're so stubborn."

"Meh, I'll think about it."

"And I'll think about it also when deciding whether or not to tell Spike where you hid the secondary remote to Babycakes, or when deciding whether I should tell Ed that you switched out his target just to freak him out or not."

His eyebrow raised and a cocky grin crossed his lips, "Jules, I never hid Spike's secondary remote or switched out Ed's target." She's crazy, she has no clue what she's talking about.

Turning away and grabbing her beer from the side of the kitchen island, then turning on her heel to return to the living room, she shrugged, "No you haven't…yet."

His eyes narrowed and his beer retreated to resting on the coffee table, followed by hers within seconds. She slid onto the couch, sitting only inches from him but focusing intently on the old fashioned cartoons that rose to the television. Sam had an obsession with Elmer Fudd—though he would never admit it. Jules was more of a do-it-yourself network type girl.

"Enjoying it?" His cheesy grin glowed as he turned to face her, getting no look in response. It's going to be a long night. "Ahh, the silent treatment—cute."

Her glare shot over at him, piercing him dead in the eyes. "What did you say?"

"Oh nothing." He mumbled, tapping his fingers on his thigh. She hated when he did that, the repetitive pattern index finger to pinky finger was enough to make her want to snap his wrist in two.

"Where is it?" She questioned, finally resulting back to the original argument.

His cheeks rose and eyebrows jumped, "Take a wild guess."

"You wouldn't." She threw her head to the side in defeat, "Where is it…"

"In muh pants…" He dragged, his face falling to a floppy and pleased look of a two year old just before a nap.

She rolled her eyes, focused not only on the fact that her boyfriend was the biggest goober in the world, but on the fact that he had what she wanted and wouldn't let him get away with it. "Give it—now." She stated as if she was scolding a child.

Shrugging, he rocked back a bit and the television turned off with a soft click.

"That's cute—real cute. Now give it back."

"Better come get it."

She grinned and swished her hair from her face, "Don't think I won't."

"I expected you to."

Did anyone guess what they were fighting over?

Wait for it…. Wait for it… Good job!

Now I'm going to sleep, goodnight—turkeys. Hehe