Second Honeymoon
"B-B-Benson?" She stammered.
"That's the name. Don't wear it out, sweetie." He replied with a dry sense of sarcasm. Sam spat out a sentence filled with sarcasm herself, more relaxed this time around.
"What are you doing here?"
"What do you think?" He shifted in the chair, unable to break free of the handcuffs. "I'm the computer hacker guy. Turned myself in, and now I'm talking to you. Funny how life works out sometimes, huh?"
"What up with your voice?" Sam pointed at Freddie, whose tone was usually jumpy and pleasant. Today it took more of a dark, shady sound. Sam didn't find this tone of his to ease her, so she pulled her gun out and gripped it in her hand. Snarky Freddie seemed to be badder than bad.
"Sounds more…villain-like, dontcha think? Does it please you?...Hmmm?" He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds then flashed a smile that formed a smirk at the corners of his mouth.
Sam's face sucked back. "Actually, it's rather repelling." She strode closer to him, the gun still in her hand. Freddie eyeballed it grimly.
"I thought you liked bad. You were bad once, Sammy. Very bad." Her teeth cleaned to the point of almost shattering. In less than three-seconds, Sam had reached Freddie, hooked one of her arms underneath his arm pit and placed her hand behind his neck. The other arm held the gun to his temple. The guards outside were eyeballing Sam. They knew she'd never really shoot somebody out of anger, but this was her ex-husband. Anything was possible, even for the tamer Sam Puckett. Her face lingered closely to his ear, her lips almost touching his sideburn as she whispered:
"Listen here Fredward. I don't like this little game you're playing."
"What game?" He interrupted. She stiffened her hand up on the gun.
"The bad boy entourage; the voice, the attitude, the smirk. Just stop."
"I thought that's why we got divorced in the first place. You didn't like who I was."
Sam spat, "S-so?"
Freddie turned his head up to look her in the face for the first time, seeing as how he had the opportunity to. This was the only time during this whole meeting so far, besides when Sam was checking him out when she first entered, that they were simultaneously looking at one another.
"Your eyes look beautiful." His old Freddie tone was slowly beginning to come back. Without rational thinking, Sam slammed his head down on the wooden interrogation table. Hard.
"I ain't here to play this game all night, ok?" Freddie nodded with a couple of grunts and groans. The gun was now pointing at the back of his head as Sam had changed her position. Now her hand was pressing down on the back of his neck while the other cradled the gun gingerly.
"Sam…my wrists. They're chafing. Do you think I could put some lotion on them for a sec?"
Sam rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I see some things have never changed." She spotted a tub of lotion sitting next to a vase filled with cold colored marbles and picked it up. Tossing it up and down in her hand, she used the other to grab a key, unlock Freddie, and grip his bicep. Then she handed him the lotion and used that hand to hold the gun up to his head again.
"You have one minute. Go." The intensity of her voice was so strong. There was no need for yelling. Sam never yelled. Her tone made up for the lack of volume. Freddie slowly pumped some lotion in his hand and began rubbing.
"I don't rub as well when there's a gun pointed at my head." Sam's grip tightened up even more.
"Rules are rules…twenty seconds." Freddie put the lotion down and turned so his frontal area faced Sam directly. Sam turned to the left so her side was facing him, but she could still keep an eye on him with her peripheral vision. She changed the gun position so it pointed at his temple again on the other side of his head. He closed his eyes and hung his mouth wide open and let out a whisper:
"You know, that gun pointed to my head really makes me wanna have sex with you, again." He smugly chuckled. In a second, Sam had managed to lift her arm up and swing the gun into his groin, hard. Her hand suspended in the air for another moment.
"How about now?"
"Well…" he stifled out another chuckle. "Still."
"I'm going to give you one more chance. If you say another word, I'm shooting. South."
He shook his head vigorously, still in pain. "Not really…"
"Good." She scrunched up a patch of his hair and thrusted him away from her. Then she lassoed the handcuffs from her belt and attached them to his wrists. The shampoo smell coming from Sam's hair caused Freddie to close his eyes and moan softly. Sam, now wrapping her fingers around his wrists and standing only centimeters behind him, perched her neck on his shoulder and whispered:
"Too bad I'm a cop and you're a criminal and my ex. That moan of yours is powerful. C'mon." She tapped his behind with a device from her belt and marched him out of the room. The rest of the police force put him in a cell for the night before they decided what to do with him in the morning. Two prison guards stood outside of the cell, just in case. If Freddie is smart enough to hack the most complex computer matrix in the states, breaking out of a prison cell would be child's play. Sam lingered outside of the cell, waiting for Freddie to return. He came back in an orange jump and leaned on the bars.
"You didn't put any bees in here, did you?"
Sam managed a little laugh. That memory stayed fresh in her head for a moment then faded. "No, and you still should've gotten an A on that paper."
Freddie boldly stroked Sam's cheek through the bars. The guards tense up until Sam started to blush. She removed his hand gently, holding it for a couple of seconds before letting it drop.
"Night" she called out. Freddie and the prison guards waved a goodbye to Sam before she got in her car and headed out for the night.
Boy, did she have a story to tell Carly.
