theshot_yougot | (no subject)

The breakdown, the conversation, the questions and answers - Sam's done his best to stay relaxed and calm for Leah's sake and sanity but he's feeling a strain for it. He's worrying now, uncomfortable for the first time in Leah's presence, and he hesitates for just a second longer than absolutely necessary.

"Actually," he says, standing by the couch and running a hand through his hair, "do you have Coke or something? I could use some sugar."

"I don't drink it," Leah admits, ruefully, but she quickly follows up with, "I'm putting the kettle on, if you want tea."

Leah will only notice the hesitation, which is probably good since Sam's other response is a quick nose-wrinkle of disgust.

"...sure."

It's something Bill used to do; without fail after every mission he'd put on a brew. Leah was never into the habit personally, but she could really do with something familiar right now.

So the kettle is on, and the tea brought in, and instead of going to her usual chair; "where are you?"

"Next to the couch."

He's not always sure how to answer the question in Leah's house, and used to agonize over it a little. Left, right, east, west, never sure which would work best for her.

And finally figuring out that answering her with a basic location would be enough, just for the sound of his voice.

He's gotten to know, and gotten comfortable with Leah.

And she's gotten comfortable enough to know where exactly 'next to the couch' is likely to be. She smiles and puts their cups down - with the sugar bowl - before sitting on the couch, leaving a space for him near where he's standing.

"Is it appropriate to apologise for being so weird?"

He's still hesitant, but not enough to ignore that he might be making her uncomfortable. Hence, when Leah leaves him a spot on the couch, Sam takes it, leaving a decent amount of space between them.

The tea looks watery and unappetizing. But it's in a small cup he can wrap his hands around, and it's warm, so that's something.

"I don't think you had a weird reaction to an incredibly weird situation."

Which at least makes her smile. "Well, no. But I bet it's unique."

Just that she's aware of awkward and kind of blames herself. Her tea is strong, and she is generous with her own sugar.

Well, if she's going to add stuff to it...

Sam adds milk and sugar both, taking experimental sips along the way. It's not exactly beer or Coke, but it's something to do with his hands, and to keep his mouth occupied.

He glances at her, frowning a little. "I don't know about that. You had more of a transition to deal with than the rest of us."

"Kind of what I meant," she remarks. "Nothing to compare it to, really."

And because she doesn't think she's actually asked that, she says, "are you OK?"

"Fine."

Or better than she is. The only thing Sam's lost in the last fourteen years or so is an inability to shut up.

More or less.

When Leah bows her head, it's because she's missing that inability to shut up - chatty little Sam and his questions would do her a favour. Just as he did last night, if she's honest.

It's not the eyes - those are major, but it's not just them. It's that 13 year old Leah carried a whole lot of pain with her and the memories are fresh again.

It's the emotional equivalent of re-opening an old war wound.

Still, after a second, she nods, smiles, and sits back against the couch, letting silence fall again, more comfortable than in the car.

She can hear him breathing.

The silence is what he wanted. But now that Sam has it, in distinct contrast from what she'd been doing so far, it feels... forced.

He sips his tea, which tastes something more like sweet flavored milk now, and looks over at the woman beside him.

"...are you okay?"