51. Sport

Danny almost didn't believe it when Sam told him what she was doing for her volunteer hours that were a graduation requirement. And he flat out didn't believe when she told him she was going to keep doing it after graduation. But sure enough, she'd kept it up, arranging her classes at the university so that she could always make it in time for class, always be there for the kids.

He wasn't sure when he'd started arranging his schedule so he had the whole hour free, but he knew why he'd done it. At least the first time. He wanted to see it, proof positive with his own eyes that Sam Manson was teaching gymnastics to a handful of four year olds at the rec center. But she was, and he'd seen it.

He hadn't teased her about ever again after that. He'd swear that he still had the bruise one his shin from where she'd kicked him all those years ago.

He chuckled at himself where he sat on one of the rafters above the massive gym floor. All those years ago. It really wasn't much more than four, almost five. And for most of it Danny had sat on this beam that spanned the ceiling and watched her as she worked with the kids. Boys and girls, he'd been surprised at that. And grateful that his mother had never tried to force him into it. As it was he was grateful he didn't remember the ballet thing that was her wishful thinking when he'd been about the age of the children Sam was working with right now.

At one time he'd told himself it was because he liked watching her. She always wore the same thing for the classes. A shiny purple leotard and tiny little black shorts that probably shouldn't have been considered shorts at all. And that was all, unless he counted the way she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. But Danny had had years to decide that a rubber band didn't qualify as an article of clothing.

But he honestly couldn't say that the formfitting leotard was why he watched now. No, it was something else. Probably because he was in love with her, but that wasn't exactly why he did it anymore. It was just nice to watch the way she handled the children, from bumps and bruises, teaching them how to do the things she could do. And it had really blown his mind to find out that her mother had forced her to take gymnastics until she was thirteen. Had made his head explode when he realized that she must have kept up with it to still be able to flip herself around the way she was.

She did a backbend right then as he watched, a little girl giggling at the way Sam arching her back. And then Sam popped back upright, laughing along with the girl, and Danny couldn't help it. He laughed too, and he knew that she heard it as her head whipped around curiously before finally veering up and stopping dead still as she saw him relaxed in the shadows, one leg dangling and completely Fenton as he perched.

Danny knew he was busted, but also knew that she couldn't say anything while her class was still there. his self assured safety disappeared less than ten minutes later, and as soon as the last child, a little boy who'd only been coming for a few days, left, she turned and glared up at him, arching an eyebrow as she quirked a finger at him, beckoning him down. He dropped down, forcing his freefall to a slow drifting pace, so that he could land lightly in front of her with a sheepish grin and a hand to the back of his neck rubbing nervously as he looked everywhere but her eyes.

"How long have you been spying on me?" Sam asked, her voice surprisingly even despite the fact that Danny was sure she was ready to, at the very least, maim him.

"Um. About two weeks after you started?" he answered sheepishly, glancing up through the hair that was falling into his eyes. The startled look on her face almost floored, he'd so been expecting her to blow up, maybe even kick him in the shin despite the lack of boots. But instead she looked more like a fish out of water, and speechless in every way possible.

"You're going to be a really good mom," he said suddenly, surprising himself as he said it.

Sam blushed brilliant red. "Um… thanks? But not for a few years." The blush began to fade a little and she gave him a half smile. "I don't even know who the dad would be."

Danny nearly dropped dead when his mouth ran away with him again, this time saying, "I want to be," and this time Danny went bright red even as she did, finding himself unable to move away or even look down from her shocked violet eyes.

He wanted to apologize, even though he meant what he said. He wanted to run, to fly, to be anywhere but there. Anywhere but being forced to stare at the horrible surprise on her face, the surprise that told him, screamed at him, that she would never think of him like that. He wanted to do a million things, all of them centered around taking those four words back.

And then she reached a hand out and threaded it into his, and she smiled.

"I think that maybe we should go on a few dates first," she whispered softly as she stepped closer to him, looking up so that he could see the smile that was now on her face. "But I'd like that."

In retrospect, Danny would always tell their children that it was the most unintentional proposal he'd ever heard of. And that he was so glad that Sam had said yes.