11 - comfort

"Jules, I'm fine. You heard the doctor," Sam chuckled away her concern when for the second time that evening, she lifted his shirt and gently caressed and poked his tender ribs. She frowned. The bruises look even more glaring on his pale skin. "No concussion, no broken ribs, nothing major. I don't even have to miss work tomorrow."

Jules sighed and carefully pulled his shirt down. She leaned back against the couch, looking a bit pink. Her grin was bashful because she knew she was doing exactly what he would do had the situation been reversed. Sam was more patient than her though. He didn't like it and would never say it outright because he didn't want to her hurt feelings, but he would let her fuss as much as she wanted. Had let her do just that since they got home. "I'm sorry. It's just when the bomb went off and we couldn't reach you for those few minutes… it was kind of scary."

Despite the fact that he didn't have any control over the situation, he apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

Sam's sweater was large enough on her small frame that the collar hung low on her left shoulder. As if to distract herself from obsessively checking the bruises again, she tugged at the strap of her tank top. She eyed the tiny scraps and cuts on the side of his face. "Seriously though, you and bombs. What's up with that, Braddock?"

Sam grinned, wincing inwardly. There had been some near misses since he joined the SRU. Like the time when he had to talk down a teenager carrying a bag with a ticking bomb inside. Or another time when he was taken hostage by a grieving father wanting to take the law into his own hands, the grenade in his hand pressing against Sam's chest as Sarge was trying to negotiate the subject down. There's also that one time when he jumped on top of a concussion grenade. The last one had left him sore and a bit blue -but alive- and when he got back to Jules' place after the shift ended she had reacted almost as strongly as she did now.

"I don't know, but I'm all for an 'explosive' night." He decided to make light of the situation, eyebrows wiggling with a transparent intent.

She didn't disappoint. The slight crease on her forehead smoothed out and her nose scrunched up. "Did you borrow that line from Spike?"

Sam laughed and kissed her forehead, pushing himself up. Before she could protest that he should take it easy, he winked. "Nature's calling."

He quickly took care of his business and was halfway walking back to the living room when his pace slowed; his eyes transfixed on the tiny brunette bundled up in the couch. Jules had pulled the collar of his sweater up to her face and buried her nose in the soft black fabric. He had been wearing it on and off for the past week, so he was pretty certain it smelled like his aftershave.

That simple gesture was enough to make him come undone. To make him remember the way she sometimes sought out his hand when they're watching the movies or eating dinner. He had thought it was because she craved the physical intimacy as much as he did. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Like him, Jules had lost people dear and close to her. It probably would happen again, especially in their line of work where nothing was guaranteed, but what in life was? Perhaps she just wanted to hang on to that small hope that Life had stopped throwing darts in the dark. If touching his solid flesh and feeling his fingers curl around hers could offer her a modicum of comfort and keep the hope alive, then he was more than happy to give them.

Clearing his throat to announce his return, Sam resumed back to the living room. Acting just as casually, Jules lifted her head and smiled up at him.

He sat down next to her and threw his arm around her shoulders. Barely a minute had passed when she squirmed, pulling free of his grip. "Are you sure this position isn't hurting you? It's not-"

He kissed her. A long, deep kiss that calmed her panicked tirade. A reaffirmation that he was still there, that they both were. Her heart was racing, but it was no longer because of fear and the what could've been. She sighed into the kiss, lips gentle and yielding under his.

"Relax, Babe. Sniper breathing."

That did the trick. Jules rolled her eyes and pushed his arm lightly, playfully. Laughing, he pulled her close again.

"I'm pretty sure I smell more like me than my sweater," Sam whispered over her ear. "I don't mind seeing you wearing my clothes, but how about a trade? The sweater for myself?"

:: Thanks for reading and reviewing. It's been pretty quiet in the Flashpoint fandom nowadays, and I know it's been a while since I posted anything too. I'll try to do better, fingers crossed. Let me know what you think?