Chapter Text
Sam had ended up going back to his apartment for a few hours of sleep after his encounter with the admiral. He didn’t know if Al went home or if he had stayed overnight in his office. He refused Sam’s insistence on driving him home.
The next morning, Sam went into the breakroom and found none other than the once-aloof Al Calavicci. He was chatting up one of the women that Sam had previously heard talking about her experiences with Al. As he walked toward the coffee maker, Sam glanced at Al’s face and their eyes met. Al gave him a small smirk, then went back to his conversation. The woman, Jenny, couldn’t have looked more enraptured by the attention Al gave her. She had her hand firmly planted on his forearm and laughed nearly every time he opened his mouth. Sam thought that Al probably wasn’t that funny.
He poured some coffee into a mug and trained his ear on Al’s voice. His words were hushed and low- probably an attempt to sound seductive- and Sam couldn’t make them out. Last night, he had wondered if Al was flirting with him and now he figured that it was just the admiral’s default method of communication.
All of a sudden, Sam felt a hand clap against his back as he added a pack of creamer into his mug.
“Mornin’, Sam.”
He turned around to see Al’s gaze now fixed on him.
“Good morning.” Sam wasn’t sure if he should call him ‘admiral’ or if the request to call him ‘Al’ last night still stood.
Al didn’t stay for conversation. He just gave Sam a polite smile and left the breakroom. Sam didn’t know why he felt disappointed- he had no reason to. It’s just that his experience last night was so strange and Al seemed like he didn’t even remember it. He must’ve though, since he referred to Sam by name.
Sam went to his office, not feeling like engaging in any small talk with his coworkers. As he sat down to work, he found it difficult to concentrate. His mind seemed to wander to Al and everything that had happened the night before, and whenever he got himself focused again, it wasn’t long until his thoughts went back to Al.
Sam had told Al he would help him, with what specifically he didn’t know. From what Sam knew, Al needed help with his alcohol use and was apparently about to get fired- and Sam figured that was also due to his drinking. Al had agreed to his offer of help but Sam didn’t know if Al understood that the root of his problem was the alcohol. Addicts were notoriously difficult to help, especially in the beginning stages- Sam didn’t know if he was prepared for that. Maybe he could start with something more manageable then move on to the alcohol addiction.
Sam had been surprised to see Al already in the breakroom as he arrived to work that morning. He had constantly heard about how Al was consistently late to work. Al also seemed well-kept that morning- he didn’t look hungover or still drunk from the previous night. Those were good signs. Maybe Sam could start with making sure that Al always showed up to work on time. Hopefully, that could help him from getting fired for the time being.
As lunchtime approached, Sam was ready for a break. He had never had such a difficult time focusing on his work and it had frustrated him to no end. He went to the breakroom and sat down to eat his ham and cheese sandwich, along with some orange slices he had cut up earlier that morning. As he ate, he thought even more about what he was going to do with Al. He still wasn’t sure if Al actually wanted his help. So, he decided to find the admiral’s office after he finished his food, and he prepared himself for a potentially uncomfortable conversation.
After about ten minutes of walking through winding hallways, Sam eventually found his office- the door was open.
Sam lightly knocked on the doorframe and said, “Admiral?” before peeking his head in.
Al waved him in and gestured to one of the chairs opposite him, on the other side of his desk, “Sit down, Sam. I thought I told you to call me Al.”
Sam sat down and shrugged, “It seems like everyone around here calls you ‘admiral’ so I wasn’t sure.”
“I think they do that to try and suck up to the boss,” Al smirked.
“Oh,” Sam let out a polite chuckle.
There was a moment of silence that felt a little too long for Sam’s tastes, but he wasn’t quite sure how to start the conversation.
Luckily, Al started it for him, “I suppose you’re here to talk about last night.”
“Yeah,” Sam rubbed the back of his neck, “um, how are you feeling?”
Al lifted up his hands to show his band-aids still intact, “Good as new, remember?”
“Oh yeah,” Sam had actually forgotten about Al’s accident- his question was more so about whether Al felt hungover, but he wasn't going to push it. “So, you must’ve ended up going home, huh? I see you’ve got fresh clothes on.”
Al chuckled cynically, “I always keep a spare change of clothes here. You probably noticed how early I was in this morning, too. It’s because I slept here.”
“Oh.” Sam didn’t really know what to say. Al’s tone of voice seemed to be tinged with the slightest hint of annoyance, as if he detested the fact that he had to explain it to Sam.
The uncomfortable silence between them broke as Al spoke, “Look, Sam, I can tell you’re a nice kid. And I appreciate your help last night, I really do, but you don’t need to worry about me anymore. I’m a big boy- I can deal with my own problems.”
“Of course, I understand that. It’s just, I think-” Sam didn’t really know how to finish his sentence.
Al frowned, “What?”
“I promised I would help.”
Al looked into his eyes and sighed, pausing as if contemplating his next response. Eventually, he replied, “I don't want your help.”
“But-”
Al stood up from his seat, “You’re dismissed.”
Sam was shocked by the sternness of Al’s tone, by being spoken to as if he were a soldier that could be ordered around. He was so taken aback that he didn’t know how to respond other than to turn around and leave, slightly embarrassed at the immediate submission to Al’s authoritarian tone of voice.
He walked back to his office in a huff and his focus on work continued to elude him for the rest of the day.
---*---
Sam didn’t see Al hanging around the breakroom after that morning. He hadn’t even heard his coworkers gossiping about him either, until about two weeks after the incident.
Sam had overheard the hushed tone of Jenny’s voice as she talked to one of their other coworkers, Sheila. “Did you see that the admiral actually showed up today?”
“Oh really? I haven’t seen him around for days. I kinda thought he just got fired or something.”
“Not yet,” Jenny replied. “Any day now, I bet. He’s barely even showed up for the past two weeks.”
“I guess Ruthie’s death hit him harder than we thought.”
Sam wondered who Ruthie was but he wasn't about to butt into their gossip to ask. He just kept listening, despite his better judgment.
“Is he still with that one girl?”
Jenny replied, “I heard a few days ago that she left him. I mean, he’s fun for a night or two but could you imagine living with him?”
Sheila chuckled and Sam got up from his seat, unable to handle any more gossip. It shouldn’t have made him so angry to hear people stick their noses in Al’s business like that. It shouldn’t have bothered him so much to learn that Al was apparently not working on fixing his problems or trying to keep his job. Sam barely even knew the guy. It wasn’t his concern, especially after the talk they had in his office. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had some sort of responsibility to help Al.
Still, Sam’s desire to avoid another humiliating conversation was stronger than his desire to approach Al again. So, he just walked back to his office and tried to forget his strange sense of duty towards Al by focusing on his work for the rest of the day.
---*---
A few days later, Sam had stayed late to double-check some important work that he was doing when he heard a knock on his office door.
He was surprised that anyone else was still working. It was around nine, which wasn’t very late for Sam but eight o’clock was about the latest anyone else stayed if they had to.
“Come in.”
The door opened and Al walked in, smiling slightly. “Figured you’d still be here.”
“Yeah, I was just going over some data.”
Al sat down and picked up a trinket from Sam’s desk, inspecting it in his hands. Sam didn’t know what to say and, if he was being honest, he was still a little upset with the way Al treated him the last time they spoke. So, he just waited for Al to break the silence as he pretended to look over his work.
Finally, Al spoke, “I got an ultimatum from the big wigs today.”
“Oh?”
“They wanted to fire me for good and I damn near begged them to give me another shot.” He paused. “They said I have a month to clean up my act or I get the boot.”
“So, what are you going to do?”
Al shrugged. “Get my shit together, I guess.”
“That’s good,” Sam awkwardly replied.
Al nodded but didn’t say anything. He just continued to twirl the bauble in his hands, clearly deep in thought.
Eventually, he broke the silence. “I’ve felt like a complete asshole for the past three weeks. I shouldn’t have been so harsh to you.”
Once again, Sam was uncertain of what to say. The whole conversation had him feeling awkward, so he just waited for Al to continue.
“If your offer still stands... I could use your help.”
For the first time since he’d been in Sam’s office, Al looked up and their eyes met. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in days- Sam figured he probably hadn’t. The answer to Al’s not-quite question was undoubtedly clear in Sam’s mind. Since the moment he’d met Al, he’d had a strange urge to help him. It was practically all he could think about. The fact that Al had come to him, out of his own volition, was a good sign. Sam could never say no to someone so obviously in need.
“Of course I'll help you, Al.”
Sam could clearly see him exhale a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Sam. It means a lot. I know you don’t really know me, so-” Al paused, “I just appreciate it.”
Sam nodded, “Where do you want to start?”
Al scoffed, “That’s the million-dollar question right there, kid. There’s so much shit I need to fix- it's... a lot.”
Sam thought for a moment, “Well, considering that the main goal right now is to keep your job, I’d say you should start with showing up to work every day and on time.”
“Yeah,” Al pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit it. “That’s a good place to start.”
“So, what’s been stopping you from getting to work on time?”
“I usually sleep through my alarm- sometimes I hear it, sometimes I don’t.” Al shrugged. “Some days I wake up so late that I don’t think there’s a point to coming in anymore.”
“Well, maybe you should get a second alarm clock.”
Al chuckled, “Good idea.”
“And, even if you do wake up late, you still need to come into work.” Sam felt a little strange to be giving advice to a man who looked about twenty years his senior. But Al seemed agreeable, so he’d figured he’d roll with it.
“Yeah.” Al puffed at his cigar.
“So, get another alarm clock and show up to work no matter what. Sound doable?”
Al nodded. “I hope so.”
“And, remember, I’m gonna be here to hold you accountable.” Sam smirked.
“Hopefully that’ll keep my ass in check.”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
Al stood up from his chair. “Well, I better be getting home. Gotta go buy another alarm clock, I guess.”
“See you tomorrow?”
Al headed towards the door. “Bright and early.”
“Goodnight, Al.”
“Hey, you better be getting home too. Stop working, get some rest.”
Sam smiled. “I will.”
“Night, Sam.”
With that, Al left and Sam heard his footsteps get fainter as he walked down the hall, away from his office. He was still in a kind of shock from their conversation. After the last time they spoke, he had never expected Al to come to him for help. But, above all, Sam felt happy- glad that Al had agreed to try harder with coming in to work on time. Thankfully, Al seemed determined. He also seemed to be okay with letting Sam take the lead.
Sam felt optimistic about the situation and he really hoped Al felt the same way.