I know that some of you can't stomach the Fusco/Root relationship, and I respect that; I won't be offended if you click off of this chapter. I understand.
Hope Is Born Again
Wiping the sleep from his eyes and yawning wide, Lionel sauntered down the staircase and into the dining room. Stretching, he sniffed the air and felt his mouth water. Sauteed mushrooms? He wasn't sure, but he hoped he wasn't imagining what his stomach was rumbling for.
Looking at the table, he felt his hunger being replaced with apprehension. Beautifully aligned place settings, with a flower arrangement in the middle of the table, and lit candles – he took in the scene. There was only reason for the elaborate decorations: He was in trouble.
"Sam?" he called out. "Sam?" As he walked toward the door, it suddenly swung open and hit him in the face. "OW!" he exclaimed and covered his nose.
"Oh, Lionel. I didn't see you," Samantha apologized and quickly put the hot dish down on the table. "Are you okay?"
"I called for you; I guess you didn't hear me," he said and rubbed his forehead. "That's going to leave a mark."
"Come here." She took his hand and guided him to a chair. "Let me see." She examined the red bump and his nose. "I don't think it's broken," she said confidently and stepped back. ""Good news is: You're going to live."
"I don't know. You did hit me pretty hard. Are you sure you don't want to get a second opinion," Lionel joked. Samantha lowered her eyes and felt her cheeks blush hot pink. "So, what's the occasion?" Lionel wondered.
"Hmm...why do you ask?" Samantha carefully evaded and walked back into the kitchen. Lionel followed her.
"Am I in trouble?" he asked point blank.
"Trouble? No. Not really." She lifted the lid on the pot, stirred, then turned off the burner. "Could you hand me the bowl on the middle shelf?" she asked.
"Uh, sure." Lionel took the bowl down and handed it to her. "Not really...? I am going to translate that into 'I'm in a heap of big trouble'."
Samantha stopped spooning the mashed potatoes into the bowl and turned around. "I know that I've been a bit...moody the past few days," she admitted and bit her bottom lip. "But it's not about you, I promise."
"Coulda fooled me." Lionel rubbed his back for emphasis. "And for the record, I think the springs are broken in the couch."
"Sorry," Sam said contritely.
"Well, maybe you can tell that to my back. And so you know, John and Joss went out on a date tonight. So, I think things are good with them again. At least that should afford me the right to my bed," he threw the suggestion out there.
Ignoring him, Samantha returned to her task. "Would you take these to the table?" she asked and turned to hand him the medium sized bowl.
Not receiving an answer to his request, Lionel seemed apprehensive. "I guess." He took the bowl and carried it to the living room.
Quick as lightning, Samantha opened the refrigerator door, placed something inside, then closed it just as Lionel returned.
"At least if I am in trouble, it smells good," he complimented in an off-hand way as he continued with his rant.
"Would you do one more favour and get the wine while I carry this to the table?" she asked and took the platter with the slow roasted ham in her hands.
"Sure. Nothing like a couple of glasses of wine to get me in the mood for a night-shift with drunk, naked Santa," Lionel grumbled and pulled open the door. Looking at the shelf, he reached for the bottle, then stopped as he noticed the long gift wrapped box sitting beside it.
"What's this?" He grabbed the box and turned it over in his hands. He put it up to his ear and shook it. Nothing that gave away what the contents might be. He shook it again.
"Merry Christmas Lionel. Love, Samantha +1," he read the tag out loud. Curious, he pulled the wrapping paper off and let it fall to the floor. He stared at the white box. Once more, he shook it. Then he removed the lid.
He blinked once. Twice. But his brain was having a hard time comprehending what he was looking at. "Two blue lines?" he muttered. "Two blue -" Slowly the light bulb came on.
The door opened slowly and Samantha stepped inside. "Lionel?"
"This...?" He held up the stick. "Does this mean what I think it means?" he asked carefully as though he didn't want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed.
Samantha smiled. "Merry Christmas!"
"A baby?" Lionel asked. "We're having a baby?"
"Yes," she confirmed with a smile and nod.
"You and me?" He pointed to her and then at himself.
"I hope so. Unless you know something I don't," she quipped with a confused look.
As the news sunk in, a look of elation crossed Lionel's face. "WOOO HOOO!" he exclaimed in a loud, booming voice that bounced off the walls. Hurrying over, he took Samantha in his arms, and spun her around.
Unsure how to react, Samantha's bottom lip trembled as she fought to control her emotions. "You're happy?"
"Happy?!" he sputtered in confusion and elation. "Sam... If I were any happier, I would be the drunk naked Santa singing Christmas Carol's on Main Street," he stated in a voice filled with tears of happiness. "Of course I'm happy! This is the best present anyone has ever given me." He cupped her face in his hands and looked deep into her eyes.
"I wanted to do something special this year; give you that one in a million gift."
"You succeeded." Lowering his head, he kissed her. Soft and slow, he wanted to show her how much he truly loved her. And she responded back in kind.
Coming up for air, he hugged her against him. "Is there anything you made that will spoil?" he asked.
"No. Why?" she asked with a puzzled look.
"Good!" Swinging her into his arms, he held her tight. "Because I need to thank you in private." He looked at her. "Unless I'm not off the couch; then I have to ask: Your place or mine?"
"You're off the couch, Lionel."
"That's all you have to say," he stated and hurried out of the room toward the staircase. He stopped.
"You do know that you did assault a police officer earlier, right?" he stated matter of factly. "And you being a lawyer, you know should know the penalty for said assault."
"Which is...?" Sam asked coyly. Lionel dipped his head and whispered in her ear. "Oh, well, then, I'm ready to be sentenced, officer."
Without further ado, Lionel took the stairs two at a time – his footsteps echoing throughout the house, followed by the slamming of the bedroom door.