A/N: OMG so the first two weeks of school have been crazy. I have twenty four-year-olds to supervise and teach so its hectic. Plus I am also doing college classes at night to finish my credential, as well as my TPAs and Rica and…I don't sleep much. So to make up for taking so long, here's a somewhat longer chapter! I also finished 'Little Red Dress,' my Pacific Sledge x OC story if you wanna check it out! And 'Disguise' has updated! If you want more of these two nerds, check out their origin.
This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.
Inspired by the prompt: "You make a sexy sandwich."
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Part 5: Sexy Sandwich
Long shifts at the hospital were literally the worst.
Sam decided that, while she loved her job, she really hated getting random stranger's blood all over her when he decided that he was fine pulling the eight inch nail he'd accidentally punctured his upper bicep with out on his own, against her orders. And it wasn't even one of those days when Gene could swoop in and save her from the utter bullshit chaos of the emergency room; that lucky bastard had the day off.
She knew that he was waiting for her back at her house, but she hadn't known he was sleeping. So when she stepped through the door, her bones achy and her feet feeling like they were going to fall off, she scowled at his slumbering form draped across her couch. "God damn French asshole," she muttered, though she didn't really mean it. She was just pissed that he got Sunday off when she didn't.
Shuffling through the door, Sam dropped her bag beside it, trying to at least be a little considerate and not wake up her sleeping Soulmate. She edged around the house, towards the kitchen, and pulled open the refrigerator before closing it immediately with a sigh. Really, she just wanted a nap, no matter how hungry she was. She silently longed for Babe and his delicious cooking, wishing she could just phone him up and ask him to bring her food. The sweet man that he was, he would probably do it, but there was no way she'd bother him with her grumbling stomach and laziness problems.
Although, the laziness was justified, if she did say so herself. She'd been working all night, and it was only one in the afternoon; no one, especially Sam, enjoyed the night shift in the ER. That song The Freaks Come Out at Night was more frighteningly accurate than anyone really knew.
Grumbling under her breath, Sam shuffled her way back over to the couch, standing over Gene with her hands on her hips. He looked so damn peaceful, she almost didn't want to wake him up.
Almost.
Ignoring the fact that she had a perfectly good bed in her room that she was somewhat eager to get to, Sam placed her knee on the edge of the couch, just on the side of Gene's legs, and carefully eased her weight down, before letting herself plop down hard across his body.
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Gene woke with a startled cry and a violent jerk, nearly throwing his Soulmate onto the floor next to the couch before he realized what the hell had just happened. Sam propped her head up on her folded hands, resting comfortably against his chest, and grinned up at him.
Gene groaned. "Sam, what the hell? Yer lucky I didn't throw you halfway across the room."
"I'd land on my feet; I'm like a cat. A sneaky cat. You didn't even hear me come in, did you, you sleeping Cajun jerk?"
"Hey," Gene grouched, wrapping his arms around her and dragging her up his body so they could be nose to nose. "It's my day off. I can do whatever I like, includin' sleep. At least, I could before someone decided to tackle me."
"But I'm hungry. Can you feed me and tell me I'm pretty, Gene?"
Sighing, Gene leaned forward and kissed her nose, a grin winding its way onto his face when she scowled at him, obviously expecting him to get up and get her food. "I can tell you you're pretty. But you an' I both know that the only one with any cookin' skill between us is you. I ain't even gonna try."
"I'm running off to marry Babe. You're dead to me now."
Gene laughed as Sam dropped her head onto his chest, making a forlorn sound in the back of her throat. He squeezed her waist, mockingly remarking: "How will I ever survive? No one will feed me. I'll starve."
"Then starve, you jerk. Now you know how I feel."
"Fine, fine," Gene muttered, kissing the top of her head. She was amusing when she was tired, but he didn't want to torture her. She deserved something to eat after such a long day. "Get up an' I'll go and try and make you somethin' edible."
"But I'm comfortable."
Rolling his eyes, Gene managed to shimmy sideways, letting Sam flop onto the couch where he'd been laying and lamenting his lost sleeping spot when she immediately snuggled into the warmth he was leaving and cuddled his pillow to her. "Ya know, you shouldn't be able to have this both ways."
"Fooooood."
Gene chuckled as he headed into the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients to make her a sandwich; despite what Babe said of his abysmal skills in the kitchen, he made a pretty mean cheese sandwich (which was Sam's favorite; she wasn't a fan of meat, he'd discovered). "Let me guess; barbeque Lay's, right?"
"Between the cheese and the bread!"
She was really weird, and so were her tastes in food. He glanced over his shoulder to see her watching him with a tired smile, and felt his heart leap into his chest; he still couldn't quite believe that she was his Soulmate. But every time he caught sight of the quicksilver words on his hip in the mirror, it reminded him that all of this was real. And every time Sam ran her fingers along those same words, it reminded him…
"You make such a sexy sandwich."
Gene almost dropped the knife he was using to spread the mayo, and shot her a surprised look over his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, and there was a large, dreamy smile on her face. She was going to be out as soon as she ate her sandwich, he had a feeling, but in the meantime, her sleepy banter was amusing.
"And you make a sexy sneaky cat," he retorted, crunching the barbeque chips between the top piece of bread and setting it on a plate. He grabbed a soda from the fridge and headed back over, setting the plate and soda on the table while he moved her feet and plopped back down on the couch. Sam instantly draped her legs over him, and he found himself pinned. "Hey, you gotta get up to eat. Don' be lazy."
"But I wanna be." Regardless of her words, Sam dragged herself up into a sitting position, feet still in his lap, and eagerly grabbed for her plate. Gene watched in mild disgust as she crunched into her sandwich, devouring it in only a few minutes.
"I have no idea how you can eat that stuff. You're so weird."
"I like being weird. Weird is all I've got. That and my sweet style."
Gene rolled his eyes.
"Careful; one of these days you're going to roll your eyes straight into a different plane of existence."
Giggling to herself, Sam popped the last chip into her mouth before Gene swooped over and grabbed her around the waist. "Gah!" she cried as he lifted her off the couch and into the air, dropping her over his shoulder. "God damn it, what are you, a caveman?"
"Maybe," he replied, spinning in a circle.
"You're gonna make me throw up."
"You'd better not!"
Sam gripped the back of his shirt for dear life. "So what now exactly?" she demanded, and she felt him pat her bottom as he started heading down the hall to her bedroom. When he didn't reply, Sam propped her chin up on her arm, swinging against his back as he walked, and decided to try something. "I think you'll be happy to know that I'm not wearing any underwear."
Gene nearly tripped and stumbled into the wall, and Sam grabbed his shirt like a frightened cat, cackling loudly as he swore under his breath in French. "Don' say things like that. Not unless you wanna reap what you sow, chére," he growled, and Sam felt a shiver run up her spine as his grip tightened on her and he quickened his pace.
Huh. Maybe she should come home tired more often. This was the most fun she'd had all day.
