Chapter Text
"Who is THAT?" A shrill voice sounded and woke Sam from his drug-induced sleep. He forgot where he was for a moment and nearly leapt off the couch, but the aching in his chest and gut reminded him very quickly of what happened the night before.
Julia rushed into the hall hearing her youngest sister. "That's my—Dad's friend," she explained quickly, pushing her sister out of the way to go downstairs. She'd been awake in her room ever since Sam and the others came stumbling in. She was dressed before her father even left for work.
"Is that your boyfriend?" Her sister sneered, watching her go.
"Don't you think if he was my boyfriend he would be in my room and not on our couch?" Julia answered without thinking, giving her sister a dirty look from the bottom floor.
"I better get back to Salieri's," Sam mumbled, not to anyone in particular. He was amused by the conversation happening behind him, though.
Julia heard him and turned her attention there, ignoring her sister's tongue sticking out at her. Her sisters weren't exactly aware of what their father did on his off hours, but there were some suspicions. A bloody, shot-up man lying in their living room was certainly suspicious.
"No way are you getting back there on your own. Actually, you shouldn't even be going back there at all," she said, her arms crossed.
Sam wanted to protest, but he didn't feel like being an asshole right now. His body was in too much pain and his head felt like a pumpkin thrown off a fifth-story balcony.
"How 'bout I take you home?" Julia offered, already moving to grab her car keys from a bowl on a table near the door. She was a little tired, but she wouldn't show him that.
"What good am I at home?" he replied, forcing himself to sit with his back straight. He'd been shot before, but this would take several weeks to feel alright again.
"Well, you're good alive, that's for sure."
He was silent for another moment. "Alright, fine."
"I'll head to Salieri's after and tell them how you are." She walked to the couch, offering a hand to help him up.
"Gonna need more than a hand here," he groaned.
Julia reached and put her arm around his shoulder, trying to hoist him up. She was mostly successful, but she was trying very hard not to get any of the stains from his body on her clothes.
Once he was standing, he didn't look too worse for wear… He was doubled over clutching his stomach, his shirt was hanging halfway off, he was covered in his own—mostly—blood. Actually, he looked like shit, honestly.
"Okay, don't go falling over and rupturing anything," Julia said, putting his arm around her shoulders to help him out the door and to the car.
She wanted to roll her eyes at the blush forming on her cheeks from his closeness. Though the scents of blood and sweat were overpowering, she could sense some leftover smell of aftershave. She often found herself wishing for him to get this close to her, but this wasn't what she imagined. The arm around her shoulder preferably would have been at the pictures, not in her dragging him out to her car after he'd been sewn up by her dad.
"Thanks," he wheezed once he was settled in the passenger seat and they were heading down the streets towards Little Italy.
"No problem," she mumbled in reply, turning on the radio.
Some time later they arrived at Sam's apartment complex at last, his poor directions getting Julia lost in an alley twice. She helped him out to the main door, and they both stood leaning against the frame in silence, looking at each other.
He looked like he wanted to say something, and she definitely wanted to say something, but instead they remained quiet, both lost in their own thoughts and the other's face. It was only a second that felt like hours, and Sam was about to open his mouth to speak when the door swung open and one of his neighbors pushed past them.
Sam cleared his throat. "Thanks again, Julia. I can make it down the hall from here." That wasn't what he was going to say, but he knew it was better to leave it at that. Always better to cut things like that as quickly as possible.
"Yeah, see ya, Sam," Julia called after him, watching him stumble through the hall, one hand against the grimy wall.
Salieri's would feel strange without him.