Sam/Michael. Set during Brothers in Arms, what would happen if Michael accepted Sam's offer to dinner?
She rounded the corner of the police station, the folder tucked between her arms.
"Sam!" She jumped, her head flicking over her shoulder to find Michael, just the man she was looking for, walking in the same direction she was.
"The results of the PM you wanted," she held the folder out for him to take it. "It was definitely a suicide," she sighed.
"Oh, terrific. The parents are convinced it was a tragic accident-"
"-they're here," DS Bradley interrupted. "Do you want me to…?"
"No, no I'll take it to them myself," Michael brushed off, continuing his walk along the corridor with Sam. "Then the real post mortem will start," he looked down at her, expecting a reaction, feeling rather proud of himself when he spotted the small smile escaping her.
"Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow night? Trevor's going to be there and an old friend of mine."
Michael stopped short, their path coming to an end. He furrowed his brow as he looked down at her, had she really just asked him round for dinner? And not just dinner between the two of them, dinner between them and other people, that almost seemed worse. Worse because then they really would look like a couple, although Michael wasn't totally perturbed by that idea.
He pondered for a moment but quickly realised he was leaving the question to hang for far too long, "I'd love to," a smile tugged at his lips.
"Good," Sam said, matter of factly as she nodded her head. "Come to mine for half seven?"
"Sure," Michael held his arm out in front of him. "Shall we?" He spoke as they continued walking, quick to notice a few staunched glances being thrown in their direction.
"Shit!" Sam exclaimed as she attempted to drain the potatoes, the saucepan dropped into the sink, an almighty bang filling the kitchen. It was no use, they were burnt and there was no saving them. She felt her cheeks growing warm as she glanced up at the clock, they were meant to be arriving in less than half an hour and she hadn't even had a shower yet, let alone have enough time to scrape something else together. She ran her hands through her hair as she wracked her brains for some kind of solution.
Her heart dropped as she heard the doorbell sounding off, that was all she needed. Letting out a breath she made her way towards her front door, she felt a little relieved as she seen who it really was; the outline of his shadow being rather significant. The thought in the back of her mind, niggling at her, telling her that she shouldn't recognise him from his shadow quite so easily, but she ignored it, twisting the handle on her door.
"Michael, thank god you're here."
He raised his eyebrows at her, "Well, I never thought I'd ever hear you say that," he grinned at her, a bottle of wine held firmly in his hands. He took the moment to take her in, her unkempt hair, the shirt that was half tucked in, her blazer abandoned elsewhere. This was far from the Sam he had come to know at work; the well presented pathologist who never had a strand of hair out of place. And as he looked her, a flush on her cheeks, he knew that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He quickly shook the thought away.
"How good's your cooking?"
Now he was even more confused than before, he shrugged his shoulders, "I can whip up a good carbonara."
"Perfect," Sam beamed, her prayers had been answered as she moved back from the door, allowing Michael to pass her.
"What's going on?" He asked as they headed to the kitchen, ah. The dishes were stacked up everywhere, ingredients spread over the counters and the smell of burnt potatoes wafted through the air.
Sam fussed over the pan that still sat in the sink, potatoes stuck to the bottom, "I burnt them, I haven't had a shower and Trevor and Charlie are coming in about…" she checked the clock again. "…twenty-five minutes."
Michael tried to not chuckle, this was not like the Sam he knew at all but he was quite enjoying being privileged enough to witness it. He walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, causing her to look up at him, "Go for a shower, make yourself pretty," not that you need to, he wanted to add, but he stopped himself. "I'll sort it."
Sam relaxed, her lips twitching, she wanted to hug him, "Thank you," was all she managed to get out before she was making her way upstairs.
She let the water cascade down her, trying not to think about the man currently standing in her kitchen, going through her draws, using her cutlery, drinking her wine; as if it was his home just as much as it was hers. She wasn't quite sure when it happened, when these feelings had stirred up inside her. Perhaps it was just before she had ended things with James. Michael just understood her in a way nobody else had, he never questioned her and always respected her opinion. Michael knew what it was like to love your job so he never judged her commitment to it; he was just as committed.
James didn't get that, it was one of the reasons she ended things. He couldn't understand why she didn't want to drop everything to go to America. He couldn't understand why her job was so important to her, so important that she couldn't just leave it behind. Michael understood.
But Michael was married - albeit unhappily - but still, married; off limits. And it had to stay that way.
Sam switched the shower off, her damp hair now sticking to her forehead. Her bare feet padded across the floorboards, reaching her bedroom. She let out a sigh, rolling her eyes at herself as she realised that she had left her clothes downstairs. She wrapped the towel around her tighter as she tried not to overthink the situation that could potentially evolve as she went to the kitchen.
She reached the doorway, her heart fluttering as she watched him; his tie discarded and top button undone now and his sleeves rolled up. The kitchen looked totally different to how she had left it and he was at the pot sitting on the hob, stirring it as he hummed to himself. He looked casual, like he belonged there.
Feeling as though he was being watched, Michael turned, his breath catching in his throat as he took her in, standing there with just a towel covering her. All the thoughts ran through his head a million miles per hour, the things he wished he could do. He'd take her hand, guide her up the stairs, plant kisses along her neckline whilst letting the stupid, white towel slip down her body. He swallowed, pushing the thought down; the more it played on his mind, the harder it became to fight the urge.
"I just left my clothes down here," Sam broke the silence, pointing towards the table; her outfit neatly folded in the middle of it. "It smells amazing in here," she stepped into the room, heading straight for the table, ignoring Michael's gaze that was yet to leave her. She could feel the blush spreading across her body. She turned to face him eventually, "Thank you for tidying up."
"It's no bother," he shrugged, unable to take his eyes off her. "Anything to help."
"Well, I best get dressed before the other two get here."
"And there's me thinking you already were," Michael chuckled as he moved to stir the sauce again.
Sam rolled her eyes at him as she left the room, ignoring the incessant beating of her heart. She was starting to regret inviting him in the first place, she wasn't even sure why she had done. It just felt right, somehow; him, being involved in her life. Him being in her house, accompanying her for meals.
The next time she went downstairs, she looked much more presentable and Michael was pressing a glass of wine into her hand.
"Come here, try this," he beckoned her over, dipping a small spoon into the sauce, holding it out for her. He guided the spoon into her mouth, watching how her eyes lit up as they stayed connected with his. God, he thought to himself. He wasn't sure of how much longer he could take this, the teasing, the longing looks. And now he was in her kitchen, feeding her from a spoon like they were husband and wife, as though she had been the one to place the gold band on his finger. Something was going to break sooner or later.
"That's amazing," Sam smiled. "Where did you learn how to cook?"
Michael held his bottom lip between his teeth to stop the massive grin that was threatening to spread across his face, Helen never liked his cooking; she always took over, moaning that he hadn't made it right. He wasn't going to tell Sam that though, didn't want the mention of his wife to kill the mood. "My mum, she always had me in the kitchen with her. Always made sure I helped out."
The silence settled amongst them as Sam stepped away from him, putting the distance between them. Her eyes glanced over to the clock, Trevor and Charlie wouldn't be much longer. Her heart raced as she spotted his tie lying on her table casually, as if it was where he always put his tie. She could see him, strolling in from work, pulling the tie loose before setting it down on the table; she'd be at the sink cleaning the dishes and he'd creep up behind her, his arms encircling her waist as his face settled in the space above her shoulder. She'd love to know when he had taken over her mind quite like this.
Sam picked the tie up, the material running over her hands, she knew exactly what Trevor would think if he turned up now. Michael, stood in her kitchen, shirt buttons undone, sleeves rolled up. He would put two and two together and come up with six. She hated that a part of her wanted to let him think that, it wouldn't exactly be far from what she wanted to happen.
"Come here," she spoke, catching his attention. He turned to her, a small smile appearing across his face as he stepped towards her. "You better get this back on before those two think the worst." She thread the tie around his neck, popping the buttons back together on his shirt.
"Would that be such a bad thing?" His voice was low, his eyes dark as he looked at her.
She tightened the knot around his neck, noticing the hitch of his breath, "The wedding ring on your finger just for decoration, is it?" Two could play at that game.
Michael lifted his left hand, inspecting the ring that sat on his finger; she wasn't wrong, it only felt like decoration these days, his marriage meant nothing to him now. Not after Helen's affair. Not since he woke up one morning and realised that he had fallen in love with Sam Ryan. His right hand raised, his fingers pulling at the ring; it slipped off easily, just like his marriage, it had washed away in the last tide.
Sam's chest rose and fell as she watched the ring disappear into his pocket. She could feel his eyes on her lips, she hadn't quite realised how close they had become - in more ways than one, she supposed. It wouldn't take much to close the distance, to feel his lips on hers. But it was the question of who was going to take that step. She jumped as she heard the front door slam, there was only one person who would just walk into her house like that, Trevor. She had stepped away from Michael instantly, Trevor was too smart for his own good sometimes, he would know to question their closeness.
"Voila," Trevor announced as he walked into the kitchen, holding up two bottles of dusty, very dusty wine.
"Thank you," Sam answered, stifling a chuckle as she clocked the confused look on Michael's face. She rounded the table, picking the bottles up to look at them closer. "Wow. This looks smart."
"And there's more where that came from," Trevor looked up, finally spotting Michael standing there, hands on hips. "Michael? Didn't know you were joining us."
"Did you get these from the college cellar?" She was quick to change the subject, she knew that it was painfully obvious that Michael had no reason to be there, he was detective in the police force, he didn't really have much to do with forensic pathology. He was simply there because she wanted him to be, but she couldn't explain that to Trevor without revealing the truth that sat in her heart.
"We can't let him think we're cheap," Trevor continued, not all that bothered by the presence of the detective, he couldn't say he was surprised. He had seen the way Sam and Michael had been acting around each other over the last couple of months. Sometimes he forgot the man even had a wife and kid. His eyes squinted as he noticed the lack of ring. He rolled his eyes, his night was going to be spent watching Sam and Michael undressing each other with their eyes, great. Although, it wasn't exactly much different from what they usually did during the working hours.
"Has he ever asked about me before?" He changed the subject, not wanting to delve too much into thinking about what was truly transpiring by the two people stood in front of him.
"Why do you ask?" She could see Michael's head switching between herself and Trevor, probably trying to work out what on earth they were on about, quickly realising she was yet to fill him on why they were all meeting up in the first place - not that Sam had all the answers, Charlie had just asked her to dinner and to bring Trevor along as well.
"He wants something."
"Such as?"
"There are more head-hunters in Cambridge than in Borneo," she shook her head at him as he spun the bottle around in his hands.
"Head-hunters?" Michael interrupted.
Trevor's eyes flicked to Michael briefly before putting the bottle down, "It's what I think Charlie has called us here for, he's recruiting someone. No doubt it'll be for some top notch lab in the middle of London."
Michael nodded slowly, he hoped Trevor had guessed wrong, he hoped that this Charlie just wanted a friendly catch up with mates. He had fallen in love with Sam and he wasn't sure if he was ready to say goodbye to her yet, not when she occupied his mind for most of the day. But then, if Sam did get offered a job in London, he would be nothing but over the moon for her. It was what she deserved, praise for her brilliant mind.
It wasn't long before there was a bell ringing, Sam moved quickly down the hallway. Greeting the man who was holding a big bunch of flowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
"Charles! How are you?"
The man stepped over the threshold, "Fine, Sam," he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. "Good to see you," he passed the flowers over to her.
Sam gasped, taking hold of them and allowing the smell to waft up her nose. She loved flowers, they always reminded her of her mother. There would always be a bunch of flowers set up in the house somewhere everyday, without fail.
Trevor picked up his glass of wine, sending a look in Michael's direction as he turned to greet the man who had just walked in, saying something that had caused Sam to chuckle.
"Hi, Trevor," he held his hand out to the man.
"Ah yes of course, Trevor. Good to meet you," Charlie shook Trevor's hand, a firm grip. He handed the bottle of wine over to him.
Michael laughed at Trevor as he inspected the bottle, he pulled a face; it was obviously a lot more expensive and higher end than the ones Trevor had managed to dig out.
"Smells delicious in here, I can't wait. I'm starving," he rubbed his hands together before his eyes settled on Michael, not a face that he recognised. "I don't believe we've met?"
"Oh sorry," Sam piped up, placing herself between them. "Charlie this is Michael Connor, he's a detective. Michael this is Charles Alexander, a pathologist from London."
They shook hands, "A detective?" Charlie looked between Sam and Michael, quick to notice the gaze between them, quick to notice that it had lasted a touch too long. "How long have you been together then?"
Their attention was pulled to the other side of the room as Trevor coughed and spluttered, choking on the wine he had just sipped. Now Charlie was confused.
"Sorry, did I say something wrong?"
"No," Sam shook her head, guiding them towards the kitchen table, her back to them to hide the redness in her cheeks. "Shall we eat?"
They were halfway through their meal, not many words passing between them as they ate in a comfortable silence. Only appreciative sounds filling the air. Trevor had watched them the entire time, the looks between them, the subtle touches that they probably thought no one else would notice. He wondered, how long had Michael been there before he himself turned up? Why was he even here? He shook his head, he would say that he had seen this from Sam many times over the years. But Michael felt different, he wasn't her typical one hit wonder relationship that ended before things got too serious.
Trevor had watched them grow closer and closer, he would even go as far to say that they had fallen in love. Idiots, he thought to himself. Why couldn't they have done things simply, why couldn't they just both be single? This mating ritual would've ended ages ago and they'd be skipping into the sunset together. But no, Sam had to fall in love with a married man.
Metal clanged against china, "Well that was the most amazing carbonara I have ever had in my life, you should be proud Sam," Charlie grinned from across the table.
"Well, actually I-" she stopped as she felt a finger brush against hers, her whole body surged as she faced him. This was getting ridiculous, a simple touch and she could feel her legs shaking. She wasn't sure how much more of this she could take. She didn't know what it was, perhaps it was him being in her house, in her kitchen, acting like he was part of the furniture, she couldn't tell. What she did know was that if something didn't crack between them soon she was going to go insane.
"It was delicious," Michael spoke, raising an eyebrow at her, telling her to go along with it.
Her eyebrows pulled together, not quite sure why Michael was letting her take the credit for something he had made. But she didn't question it, it wasn't the time nor the place. She nodded, sending a smile to everyone around the room before standing up, gathering the dishes.
"Just imagine what a wonderful wife some fellows missed out on," Charlie quipped. Sam couldn't stop her eyes connecting with Michael's. She could feel Trevor watching them too, he had been watching them all night, she cursed herself for making it so obvious.
"Well that's medicines gain, Charles," Trevor pushed on, noticing Sam's embarrassment growing.
"Take no notice of him, he's teasing," Sam called over her shoulder, thankful for the conversation change.
"How's Wyn?" Charlie asked.
"Happy, I think. Uh, she's in Ireland." Michael stood, helping Sam out with the rest of the dishes, carrying them over to the sink. Her lips twitched as she watched him manoeuvre around her in the corner of her eye.
"Do you miss her?"
"Well, I keep busy," her eyes glanced to Trevor once again before settling on Michael.
"Wedded to her work," Trevor chuckled, the conversation milling briefly between himself and Charlie as Sam whisked back and forth from the table.
She stopped by the sink, Michael taking the last bowl from her, "You okay?" It was a small whisper, words that had certainly gone unnoticed by the other two guests in the room. She gave him a nod before turning back to them, a bowl of grapes in her hand and catching the tail end of their conversation.
"Sorry I'm prying."
Trevor brushed the other man off but Sam was speaking over him now and straight to the point, as per usual, "Yes you are, what's up?" Her eyes followed Michael round the room as he sat down next to her again.
"I better put my cards on the table," Charlie was looking at Sam now. "You know there's no chair in forensic pathology in London?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, we're going to create one," he glanced to Trevor.
"Excellent idea," Trevor grinned, taking a sip of his wine.
"I'm sorry, Trevor, I'd intended to sound out Sam alone first, but then I thought it would be best to speak to you together," the room had quickly grown awkward as it all started to click into place. "We'll be offering all the usual perks, plus a merit award. So, I have to ask, how you would feel if I broke up your partnership?"
Her eyes flicked between Trevor and Charlie, and she daren't spare a look in Michael's direction, it would hurt too much. It wouldn't be just the one partnership that would be broken up, the budding, new one that was just beginning to bubble over the surface would be destroyed too. But then, she couldn't be sure who the job was being offered to, it was more likely to be Trevor, when she thought about it. He was the man after all, they very rarely - if at all - offer it to women.
"It would be a wonderful opportunity for Trevor," she breathed.
"Trevor, you'd be an excellent candidate but," Charlie was looking at her once again. "Sam, we're asking you."
Oh. Now she really couldn't look in Michael's direction. She could feel her heart racing, thoughts swimming around in her head. She didn't even know how she could react. Something like this would be amazing for her career, it would be more money, more opportunities; a chance to really prove herself and give herself a name. But the dread filled her body, leaving Cambridge, accepting the job meant leaving Michael behind. Just as things had changed between them, just as she had realised that she had fallen in love with him.
She wished for Michael to be like the others, for her to think that she was in love with them, only for them to disappoint her in the end. But she had known for a long time that he was different, he understood her in a way that no one else. He understood the obsession she had for her job, because he was just as obsessive about his. He never judged her for wanting to stay up late, wondering what she could find to solve the case - because he was probably with her, doing the exact same thing.
Sam had truly fallen in love with Michael, it was as though she had found her soulmate. Someone she wanted to be with for the rest of her life. But even that idea was absurd, he wasn't hers. He belonged to someone else, someone else had put that ring on his finger, someone else had given him a child. And no matter how comfortable he looked in her kitchen, no matter how much she loved him, he would never be hers.
The tension grew amongst the four of them, none of them quite knowing what to say. Charlie stood up, he had clearly put his foot in it and was not keen on staying around for the aftermath. Although from the little he had seen from Trevor tonight and the way Sam had spoken about him previously, Charlie was sure he would be fine. He wasn't sure if he could say the same about this Michael fellow.
"Just think about it, yeah?" He nodded towards Sam. "It was lovely to meet you Michael. Trevor. And thank you for the wonderful meal," he bent down, kissing Sam on the cheek as he went past.
Trevor was the next to get to his feet, "I'd best be off as well actually, had too many late nights recently," he gestured for Sam to follow him to the door, he wanted to say something to her but he needed it to be just between the two of them. He pulled her into a hug as they reached the front door. "You should go for it," he whispered into her ear. "But for the love of god would you do something about you and Connor before you go."
Sam shoved him away from her, rolling her eyes at him as he beamed at her, "I mean it."
"Just go Trevor, I'll see you tomorrow," she all but pushed him out of the door, closing it before he had the chance to wind her up even more.
She let out a long sigh as she paused in the hallway, so much had happened in the space of two hours. The man that she loved was currently in her kitchen wondering what his next move was going to be now that she had been offered a high end job in the middle of London; a job that she didn't even know if she was going to take yet.
Sam liked Cambridge, she really did. It was far from the hustle and bustle of central London. She was comfortable. But then maybe that was half her problem, she had grown so used to being here that the thought of changing and moving away from it scared her. And when she really thought about it, she supposed that there wasn't much keeping her there anymore. Her mother was dead and her sister and nephew were galavanting somewhere else. Well, maybe there was one thing that could keep her here. But she wasn't going to stay in Cambridge to remain some side piece, if she was going to stay here for him then he needed to offer her more than that.
She knew he no longer loved his wife, his presence in her house was enough to tell her that but she needed something more concrete. She'd never outright ask him to leave his family for her, that needed to be a decision he made. But she needed a reason to stay in Cambridge and turn down this offer.
Sam walked back into the kitchen, the scene unfolding in front of her oddly familiar to the one she had seen only a mere couple of hours ago. He was by the sink, his arms deep in the bowl of water as he scrubbed at the dishes they had eaten from.
"You don't have to do that, you know," she wandered in behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder, "Well grab a towel and start drying then," he winked at her.
She shook her head as she did what she was told. If it was anyone else bossing her around in her own house, she would have the right mind to tell them to jog on but, once again, Michael was different. It was as though it was a daily occurrence between them, him at the sink washing the dishes, her next to him, their bodies brushing as she dried them.
They didn't speak, the only noise filling the room coming from the china bashing against china. It wasn't awkward in the slightest, it was peaceful, comforting. She didn't want the moment to end, she wanted to stay in that bubble with him forever, domestic bliss. She almost chuckled at that thought.
But there was still a conversation that needed to be had, there were still words that needed to pass between them.
Michael took the first step as he cleared his throat, "London, then?"
Sam shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know. I don't think it's very me."
He pulled his eyebrows together as he looked down at her, his hands fishing for the plug in the sink to drain the water, "What do you mean? You'd be brilliant at it. You deserve it."
"You're just being kind." Noticing the water dripping down his arms as he held his hands up, she offered the towel to him, offered to dry his hands for him. It was such a mundane, normal task but they weren't mundane, normal people in a mundane, normal situation and Sam could feel her heart racing as she all but held his hands in hers. The towel moving across his skin.
"I'm not being kind, I'm telling you what you need to hear," he freed his hand from the towel to brush a finger down her cheek, tucking a short piece of hair behind her ear. He wasn't quite sure of how it had happened but he had somehow managed to trap her between himself and the sink, the distance between them palpable. "You're an amazing, intelligent woman, Sam. You deserve the recognition for that."
The towel had dropped to the floor. It was almost a repeat of the moment shared between them earlier, except this time they were closer. This time there would be no one to interrupt them. This time she didn't have space to escape, her body trapped. It excited her, the feeling of his body pressed against hers. His hand had settled at her neck, his thumb caressing her cheek and sending shivers down her spine.
One move, that's all it would take. One move and she could feel his lips on hers. She waited for him, she needed it to be him to make the move, she needed to be sure. He was the one who was married after all. But he was waiting for her, always on the same wavelength, the both of them.
Their faces inched closer together, their lips meeting in the middle for a fleeting a second. A quick taste, a test of the waters. But it was enough to make them realise that it was the start of something, and they wanted so much more of it.
The kiss deepened, Sam's arms wrapping around his neck, to pull him closer to her. His lips left hers, travelling down on her jawline, his face finding solace at her neck as he peppered kisses into her skin. Sam had pulled him flush against her, a groan escaping the base of her throat. This had been months of pent up sexual tension, she imagined on many occasions how his lips would feel on hers. How his hands would caress her skin. There was no going back now, they had taken that final step. And if things weren't blurred before, they certainly were now. But in that moment, with his hands gripping at her, the worries could wait until later. She could worry about the finer details another time.
All she wanted right now was to forget the world and be held in the arms of the man she loved.