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It was Valentine’s Day, and for Al Calavicci, the first that ever truly mattered to him.
Oh, sure, he’d gone through the motions with Tina and other women in the past, trying to placate or seduce them with flowers, candy, or the occasional bauble when his pay allowed, but this Valentine’s Day was different—his Sam was back, home and complete and as sweet as he’d always been, after being lost in time for five years. He hadn’t remembered his relationship with Al right away, but over the past week, more memories had surfaced, and his lover was revealing, bit by bit, how the leaping changed him.
Like the small collection of dresses Al spotted at the back of Sam’s closet. Most of them still had their tags on, like they were waiting for something, and Al hadn’t pressed or questioned; his lover was sometimes shy and had an introspective and sensitive nature, one he directed outwardly and made him aware of the needs of others.
Now, as Al set the large white box on the bed, the width secured with an iridescent bow, he hoped his gift would allow Sam to free a part of himself that he’d always pushed away, at least until he’d begun leaping.
“Al?” Sam questioned from the doorway, and Al turned, his heart lifting in that pleasant way it had ever since the young physicist had leaped home and Al encountered him without the help of Ziggy. Passing him in the hallway or finding him in the kitchen at one a.m., drinking orange juice right from the pitcher, his throat working, delighted Al in so many ways it was difficult to choose a favorite.
“Hey Al,” Sam smiled. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sam honey,” Al replied as he went to the younger man and took his hands, thumbs rubbing over the delicate veins under the skin on the backs of them. Just as Al never tired of looking at Sam, he didn’t tire of touching him, either. After five years of appearing to Sam as a hologram, unable to touch him or smell the clean scent of skin, Al wanted to spend the rest of his life indulging his senses.
“Are we still going to dinner at Bondi’s? We have reservations for seven.”
“You bet we are. But first, I want you to open your present.” Al nodded to the box.
“Al! You didn’t have to buy me anything!”
“I know. But I wanted to. Go ahead.”
Sam approached the box and smiled as he admired the embossed material and how the bow caught different colors with the light. He slid it down and free, then shook off the top. Inside, cradled in tissue paper, was a peach-colored dress. Sam stared, then put out a shaking hand to touch the silk fabric.
“Oh, Al,” he breathed. It’s beautiful.”
“ You’re beautiful, Sam,” Al smiled. As Sam lifted the dress from the box, Al touched his shoulders. “I know leaping changed you in a couple of different ways, and I saw the dresses in your closet. I wanted you to know that it’s all right. And that I love you, and what you want to wear doesn’t matter to me or changes how I feel about you.” He smiled. “It’s tailor-made, so it should fit you like a glove.” He rose up on his tiptoes to kiss Sam’s lips; they were sweet, like biting into a ripe peach. Tears made Sam’s hazel eyes bright, the pupils liquid.
“You’re something else, Al.”
“And what you are has always been everything to me.” He slid his arms around the taller man. “No matter where you were or who you leaped into, you were always my Sam.”
Sam touched Al’s face.
“I’ve always been yours, Al.”
Al pressed his cheek against Sam’s broad chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart, a heart that knew things long before Al had ever figured them out for himself. Sam’s chest hair, visible because of his V-neck tee, brushed his cheek, soft like peach fuzz.
And Al Calavicci’s love for Sam Beckett continued to blossom.