A Wedding in Washington
Chapter One: What's In A Name?
A/N: A completely plot-free fic full of fluff, misunderstandings, shopping, and our favorite sexy couple! This chapter is super short, but the entire story is already written. I'll be uploading daily, so grab a cup of coffee and a slice of cake and cozy up with this sappy little story!
Enjoy!
Sam should have been used to it by now, really, she should be. It wasn't like this was the first, second, third, or even twentieth time this had happened. Honestly, over the last five years she'd definitely lost count of how many times she would have to duck her head just so, smile awkwardly, and in halting words say, "oh no, it's not—we're not-," and then laugh like it wasn't the most painful thing in the world.
And she'd known pain. Physical, emotional, you name it. Hell, she even knew death.
But that wasn't the point.
The point was, after five long years of the same song and dance, she was still caught off guard every time.
"Your order, Mrs. O'Neill." Sam gave a pained smile, but didn't bother correcting the teenager who had handed her the bag of food and two coffees. She was alone at the counter, so who cared if the young woman staring at her expectantly had made the nonexistent connection between the name on the order and the woman who had appeared to pick it up.
In her weaker moments, Sam blamed the patriarchal society that they existed within – of course, as a woman alone with a man, she had to be married to him, right? In her stronger moments, Sam knew it was because every interaction she had with the colonel, especially off base, was inexplicably – okay, maybe not inexplicably - laced with affection and familiarity.
"Mrs. O'Neill?" She repeated when Sam still hadn't moved to take the proffered items.
"Right, yes. Sorry." Sam tried to turn the weird, tight smile on her face into a normal, polite one but she was pretty sure she was not succeeding given the strange look the girl kept giving her. Shoving a couple of extra dollars into the tip jar, Sam grimaced, grabbed the items, and hastily made her way back outside.
So distracted was she by her own awkwardness that Sam did not immediately notice the man at the table behind her whose head had jerked up at the mention of "her" last name. She also didn't notice the appraising eyes that took in her dress blues nor did she register that, as she left the DC restaurant, she wasn't alone.
TBC