Samantha wasn't an early riser. She wasn't going to deny it. Sleep was far too addicting. There were few things she liked better than sleeping happily till noon, the blankets creating this world of warmth and comfort around her.
As it was, that weekend, sleep wasn't working for her. Her eyes snapped open just after six-thirty. She wasn't really surprised, she hadn't had a good nights sleep since she found Michael in his classroom.
She groaned, turning over and readjusting the blankets, trying to fall back asleep. Her body wasn't having it. A quick glance out the window showed that it had snowed over night, Samantha decided this was a good reason to take a morning walk.
It snowed overnight. First snow of the season. Michael woke to a pale light pouring through his window, and the sound of something crashing to the floor in his bedroom.
"The hell-" He pushed himself up from the couch, any trace of sleep draining out of him at the thought of there being someone in his apartment.
He moved quietly over to the cabinet and retrieved his father's old M1911 from the top drawer. He held the gun beside his thigh, but before he could move any further, his eyes fell on the crate. That's when it clicked. Michael dropped the gun onto the coffee table.
"Stupid dog." He griped, running his hands through his hair as he stalked towards his bedroom.
The puppy stood on top of the mess that was Michael's toppled over bookcase. He had nosed through old paperbacks and ten-year old comics. His tail was wagging furiously, Michael groaned.
"It's way too early for this." Michael lifted the puppy off the mess and placed him back in the living room. "Stay or...whatever."
Michael walked back into the bedroom to try and put everything back into order. He was soon interrupted, again, by a consistent barking. He sighed and threw a pile of books onto his bed, trudging back through to the living room.
"What is it now?"
Michael's eyes fell on the dog who was intently watching the muted TV. Michael smiled slightly.
"You like that, huh?" Michael picked up the remote to view the name. "Dexter. That guy's got some issues." The puppy's ears pricked up at Michael's voice.
"Dexter?" Michael repeated, the puppy's head tilted. "Maybe I should name you that. I need something to yell when you wreck my stuff." The puppy's tail began thumping on the ground, he barked.
"Dexter it is."
When Michael took him out to do his business, he realised that dogs were the type of animals who liked exercise. And he probably wasn't going to get any peace and quiet until Dexter - who was currently chewing aggressively on the end of his leash - was tired out a little bit.
Not ten minutes later, he was walking towards the park, Dexter chewing enthusiastically at his heels. The morning was crisp and bright, the rising sun sparkling off the frost that clung to the trees. The ground was covered with a light layer of snow. As he walked, cool air filled his lungs and wiped away the sleep from his eyes.
Michael let Dexter run through the dying grass of the park, rubbing his face in the snow until his muzzle was soaked. As the sun rose, the snow melted and Dexter finally seemed a little tired out. Michael sat down on a bench and closed his eyes.
Okay, so maybe getting a dog wasn't the worst idea. If it weren't for him, Michael would still be asleep on the couch. Which wasn't overall a bad thing, but how often was he awake to see a sunrise?
After resting his eyes for a few moments, Michael realised he couldn't feel the familiar, slight tug on the end of the leash. He snapped his eyes open.
The leash was draped over the arm of the bench, the nylon drenched and chewed off right before the metal clip. Dexter was nowhere to be seen.
Michael stood up quickly, dropping the now ruined leash from his hands.
"Dexter?" He called, his breath rising in the cool air, even though there was no way the puppy already knew his name. He looked down and saw a few small paw prints disappearing behind a group of trees, toward the small pond in the park. Michael ran off in that direction.
"Dexter!" He called again, his voice echoing. When he rounded the trees he saw Dexter trotting through the frosty shallows, four inches of ruined leash behind him.
Michael let out a breath, bracing for a second against his knees before heading towards the puppy.
"Damn dog." He huffed. Seeing him, Dexter skipped through the water happily, his wet paws dragging through the mud on the bank. Michael bent down and picked him up, his hands fitting beneath the dog's armpits. Dexter wriggled and Michael scrunched his nose up, mud flying everywhere and splattering his clothes.
That's when a familiar laugh floated over to him. Michael looked up to see Samantha standing on the path beside the pond.
"So this is how you spend your weekends?" She asked, looking thoroughly amused. Michael rolled his eyes.
"Not ideally, no." He replied, stepping away from the pond and setting the puppy back down on the grass. He proceeded to roll around, smearing mud all over his belly and back. Michael grimaced.
"New parent?" Samantha asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"Unplanned parent." Michael amended. Dexter began to trot away but Michael was able to bend down and pick him up before he got too far. "Didn't think I'd see anyone this morning. What, did you come to feed the pigeons?"
Samantha smiled at Michael's attitude. "I'm actually terrified of birds...though I'm not complaining, you're providing some much needed entertainment."
Dexter tucked his chin around, chewing on Michael's hand. Michael was holding him at arms length, refusing to let him get too close to mark his jacket with mud.
"Bite me." He growled at Samantha, to his surprise, she laughed.
"My landlord's gonna kill me." Michael went on, "The mud he's gonna drag into the building."
Samantha composed herself. "If you want, you can clean him up at my place. It's only down the street."
Michael looked up, seeing Samantha gesturing down the road with her hand. Michael was about to politely decline, because going to Samantha's definitely did not fit the plan of not getting close to the woman. But Dexter was filthy, and he was starting to lose feeling in his fingers, and it would be great to not make the mess in his apartment any bigger.
"Are you sure?" Michael asked, his eyebrow arching as he looked at Dexter. "He's pretty dirty. I don't want to impose or anything."
"You wouldn't be imposing." She insisted. "You look like you could use a hand."
Michael pursed his lips, looking at Samantha, then at the dog, who was now growling in annoyance.
"Yeah...You might be right about that."
Michael was slightly surprised when Samantha didn't lead him to a house or apartment, but a small motel around the corner. It was cute, he supposed. The walls were a pale purple and the manger seemed to have a thing with squirrels because they were everywhere; on the coffee cups, in picture frames tacked onto the wall, embroidered on the blanket on the bed.
"Please ignore the décor, it's awful." Samantha said thinly, closing the door. Michael had Dexter tucked under his arm like a football, he gave up on not getting mud on his favourite jacket. "I've still gotta look for a place of my own."
Michael chuckled. "I can't see why. This place has squirrels, man. Not every house has that."
Samantha rolled her eyes at Michael's teasing, but she smiled regardless.
"Bathroom's in here." Samantha showed Michael down the short hall and into the tiny bathroom, where Michael set Dexter down in the bathtub. His paws slipped on the porcelain, creating long streaks of mud. Michael grimaced. Samantha bent down to turn on the water, putting a hand under the tap.
Michael shrugged off his jacket and folded it carefully, before setting it on the bathroom counter. "I didn't sign up for this." He muttered. Samantha looked at him.
"He wasn't your idea?" She asked curiously. Michael looked at Dexter who was lapping up water with his tongue as it filled the tub.
"Gabriel's idea." Michael said stiffly. "He thought I could use the responsibility. Or something like that."
Samantha laughed quietly. "You don't seem too thrilled about the whole idea."
"I'm not a dog person." Michael admitted, kneeling down to take off the collar around Dexter's neck. It didn't even have tags yet - he'd have to stop and get some. He thought about what would've happened if he never found him in the park and shivered. "Dogs are Gabriel's thing. He had a dog growing up - a Rottweiler - I suppose he was an exception to the rule."
Dexter was licking long stripes up Michael's arms, the drool sticking uncomfortably to his skin. "Cut it out, will you?"
Samantha chuckled again and Michael glanced at her. She pressed her lips together.
Michael started to wash the mud out of his fur. He was surprised when Samantha helped distracting Dexter by rubbing his ears and scratching his neck as Michael picked up each paw, rubbing the dirt from between the soft pads.
"So," Michael started, just to break the silence. "I get not finding the right place, but aren't you dying to get outta here?"
"I'm sort of used to it. I haven't had a place of my own in...years." Samantha looked down at the puppy, running her fingers over its nose.
Michael's curiosity peaked. He thought back to Dean and his insistence to crack Samantha's code, but he hadn't heard anything from him in a while. "Yeah? Why not?" He tried to sound casual and off-hand.
Samantha glanced at Michael, weighing her words a little before answering. "After I got my degree, I wasn't really going to settle down anywhere. So I took temporary teaching jobs, didn't get attached, kept to the road." She gave a small shrug at Michael's curious stare.
"Not anymore though?" Michael asked, turning his attention back to Dexter. Samantha gave a small, somewhat sad, smile.
"I think I should stop wandering around aimlessly now."
Michael nodded. It was silent for a moment between the two. "So, why Houston?" He asked, Dexter was mostly clean, but Michael let him play in the water for a bit. "I don't mind it here, I grew up here. But it's a pretty odd town to decide to settle down in."
Samantha swallowed quickly and she looked down at the water; Michael could see a guard go up in her eyes. This must be a sensitive topic. And whatever Samantha said next was either heavily censored or a flat-out lie."
"I've got family nearby." Her tone was light but sharp. "If I'm gonna settle down, might as well be near them, right?"
Michael nodded, accepting Samantha's explanation without question. He looked at Dexter, who was soaking wet, but clean and pleased to be getting so much attention.
"Alright, I think he's finished." Michael said, sitting back on his heels. Samantha stood up and grabbed a towel from the back of the door, while Michael picked Dexter up, water running off his little body in streams. Michael wrinkled his nose, there were a lot of smells he didn't like and wet dog was high up on that list.
Turning, he let Samantha drape the towel over Dexter, then Michael sort of wrapped him up in it and held him against his chest, rubbing the towel to help soak up the water. Dexter pressed back against him, tilting his head back and slathering Michael's chin with slobber. Michael leaned back, but he couldn't help but smile. He reached up and scratched his ears, the fur feeling like velvet against his fingers.
That's when he looked up and saw Samantha leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a smug look on her face.
"What?" Michael demanded. Samantha smoothed away her expression, feigning innocence.
"Nothing. It's just...you said you're not a dog person. But from what I've seen, you look very much like a dog person."
Michael pouted and rubbed Dexter's back.
"Maybe he's another exception?" Samantha ventured, Michael shrugged sheepishly.
"We're still in our honeymoon phase." He quipped, Samantha laughed. Michael looked up at the noise and smiled.
It was too cold to walk Dexter home while he was still wet, so Michael let him run around Samantha's motel room as he dried.
Samantha sat cross-legged on the floor as Dexter climbed onto her lap. Michael hesitated slightly before sitting down next to her.
"So, Gabriel's idea?" Samantha raised an eyebrow at him and Michael shifted. Obviously, Samantha knew there was more to the story than he was letting on. She decided not to pry.
"He's your older brother?" Samantha asked, Michael almost laughed.
"No, no. He's younger than me. By four years."
"Oh." Samantha's eyebrows shifted up slightly. "It's just the way he looks out for you, kind of seems like a protective older brother thing."
Dexter was gnawing on the hem of Michael's jeans, the fabric turning wet and dark. Michael watched him, not daring to look at Samantha.
"That's how it's been the past few years. Growing up it was the other way around. I'd always get in trouble for beating up the guys who we're giving him trouble."
Samantha chuckled, her brown eyes watching Michael with great affection. Michael noticed and it sent sparks of warmth through his system.
"We didn't live in the same house growing up, so I sort of felt like I had to make up for it. Made sure everyone knew not to fuck with my little brother."
"So you were one of those students." Samantha teased, and Michael laughed softly.
"Yeah, I guess. If I had to teach me, I'd probably pull my hair out."
Samantha chuckled too, then her expression turned again. "You and Gabriel didn't live together?"
Michael's first instinct was to steer this conversation into safer waters. But he didn't want to. He didn't talk about things like this - except with his mom or Gabriel - but, he trusted Samantha.
"No. My parents split up when we were young. They didn't want to drag in lawyers and have custody battles or any of that." Michael scratched the fur on Dexter's back, focusing on the sensation of his fur. "My dad had us on weekends, but I don't think living alone was working for him. So I moved in when I was twelve. Gabriel stayed with mom. Seemed like a good idea - even share."
Michael looked up at Samantha. Her eyes were sad and sympathetic - Michael's stomach twisted, he hated that.
"Sorry." He whispered. "I didn't mean to dump that on you."
"Don't be sorry." Samantha's voice was soft. "I like talking with you."
Michael gave a timid smile and they were quiet.
"It makes sense that your students like you as much as they do. You get them."
Michael frowned slightly. "I don't think my students like me that much. I think they're just happy I'm not the type of teacher who dumps a pile of homework on them on Fridays."
Samantha's eyes narrowed. "I don't think you see yourself very clearly." She stated. Michael was taken aback by her tone.
"What do you mean?" He huffed quietly, looking down again. Apparently Dexter was finally tired out, he was starting to doze off, his back legs pressed against Michael's crossed ones.
"I'm talking about what I've learned about you in the past few weeks." She tilted her head slightly. "Your humour is eighty-percent self depreciation."
"So?"
"So...you should give yourself more credit." She stated. "Maybe you're students like you because they know you're a good person."
Michael shook his head, turning away from her. "No offence, but you don't know me too well."
Samantha placed a hand on his shoulder. "You might be right, but I'm pretty intuitive. I find it hard to believe you're not a good person."
Michael searched her face, the silence around them growing heavier. "Why do you care, anyway?"
Samantha's hand moved up to Michael's cheek. Her breathing quickened as she stroked his cheek with her thumb. Her eyes entangled with his.
"Because I probably care about you more than I should."
Michael let out a breath, leaning into her touch ever so slightly. Relief and happiness flooded his system, feelings he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time. He felt like he was ripping his heart out when he moved away.
"Look, Sammy..." His voice pained, "I like you, too. But...we can't."
We can't? He can't. Can't stop thinking about her, about her soft, soothing voice that pulled him out of the fire of his own mind. Can't even fathom getting close to her because Michael doesn't do relationships and he would inevitably break her heart, he couldn't imagine being someone Samantha deserved.
Samantha dropped her hand, shifting away from Michael. The space felt instantly cold. He wanted the grounding contact of her hand again. But Samantha's walls had gone up, the polite blankness replacing the hurt in her eyes.
"It's alright, I get it. It would be awkward."
Samantha stood up.
"I'll go grab your jacket." She smiled politely, the forced one, not the genuine one, and quickly left the room.