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Sam decides he’s very close to hating everyone- and by everyone, he means everyone, including Runner Five. Because despite the fact that she has done nothing arguably bad herself (purposefully, he reminds himself darkly, purposefully,) she is still the root that branched into this flowering blossom of evil.
Also, he is pleased to discover, he has the soul of a poet.
“I’m pretty sure that metaphor’s taken,” Runner Five tells him in the morning, picking apart what might be an omelet and fishing out a tidbit of maybe-sausage.
“What? No it hasn’t. I have never heard that metaphor before.”
“Well, flowers of evil at least is not original,” she says. “It’s a book.”
“This is why you’re the root,” he says, pointing a fork at her. “You crush dreams in your path.”
She grins at him, unexpectedly, and he falls silent. God- that is so unfair.
“So explain to me,” she says, “why am I the root of all evil, anyway?” She sounds amused now, and it’s nothing to be amused about.
“Not the root of all evil,” he corrects her, because hey, no need to shoulder the zombie hordes. “Just Abel-Township-based evil.”
She blinks at him. “I-” she says, then stops. Then, carefully, “Can I politely disagree?”
Sam rolls his eyes. “Oh, seriously, Five,” he says. “You mean to tell me no one’s jumped on you yet?”
“Physically?” she asks, and it’s so sad that she isn’t joking. So, so sad. Partially because 1.) she doesn’t get it, 2.) that means it hasn’t happened to her yet, and 3.) apparently nowadays, in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, people jumping on other people is a very real possibility.
So, so, so sad.
“So,” he says, and here’s where it gets awkward, “so no one’s been sort of- picking at you- about me?”
She shakes her head. “Why would they?”
“About-” Oh, God, this is why it had felt like a bad idea. “About, you know. You. And me. You and me. Together.”
Comprehension dawns.
“Oh,” she says, and he considers just leaving it there. “Oh,” and she’s grinning now, “no one’s- yeah. No, not to me, not yet. But people have- to you?”
“They’re coming for you,” he tells her darkly. “Prepare yourself.”
She stands up, tray balanced in one hand, and laughs- and okay, maybe it sounds a little ridiculous, but that’s only because it hasn’t happened to her yet.
“Thanks for the heads-up, Sam,” she says. “See you later.”
And she’s gone.
He waits patiently for Maxine to arrive and start lecturing him about STDs for the forty-third time.
xxxx
By the end of the day, Sam has produced a list of the worst offenders, which he presents to Runner Five.
1.) Jack
2.) Eugene (by association)
3.) Maxine
4.) Janine
5.) Sara
“Sam,” Runner Five says, a bit pityingly, list held in one hand, “I appreciate this, but these are going to be really hard people to avoid.”
“Well, you should at least try,” he says stoutly. “Do you know how many times Janine has told me that romance distracts from my duties and I shouldn’t be your operator anymore?”
“Aw,” Runner Five says. “That’s kind of sweet. For Janine. What did you tell her?”
“I sort of- it doesn’t matter. And come on, Maxine hasn’t given you birth control pills or anything?”
She blinks at him. “Maxine gives all the women birth control pills,” she says. “They help regulate our periods. She says any extraneous use is our business.”
Sam apparently really needs to get in the loop about what women get up to. Because, what? Periods regulate?
“No STD speeches?” he says. “No Sara managing to make comms operating- or running, I suppose, for you- innuendo-y?”
“No,” she says. “Not at all. Other than the usual just-don’t-have-sex speeches from Maxine. I even ran with Sara today, she didn’t say anything.”
She smirks at him, beginning to untangle her headset from her hair- yeah, she’s probably been in the comms shack for an inappropriate amount of time, Janine will come in and kick her out any moment now. “Maybe they just like me more than you,” she offers. “Or maybe you’re just easier to tease.”
He puffs up, indignantly. “I am not-“
“Yes you are,” she says immediately, and he deflates a bit.
She manages to get the final strands of hair out of the headset, and hands it to him. “I need to go meet up with Chris, I picked up some of those cryo tags he was looking for. See you later.”
It’s dark in the comms shack, so it’s kind of hard to see anything that’s not the glowing screens, but he could swear she bites her lip, and then leans in to kiss him on the cheek.
And then she’s out the door.
“Runners,” he mutters, then turns back to the screen.
xxxx
Sam was originally planning to have dinner later, hopefully after everyone else had left, but you just don’t argue with hungry runners.
And no matter how many times he reminds himself that Runner Five doesn’t own him, that he has control over his own life, he just prefers to eat with her. That’s all.
“So,” he asks her, because it can’t just happen to him and not her, “anyone corner you yet?”
“No,” she says, smiling tolerantly into a slightly battered microwavable meatloaf. “I’ve only seen Maxine from your list today, and all she did was check me for bites.”
He grumbles a bit, and steals one of her potatoes. She scowls at him, but doesn’t hit or threaten him, which he supposes must be one of the perks of a relationship. Then she frowns.
“I did see Eugene today,” she says, thoughtfully, and he perks up. “I didn’t talk to him- I was out training, and he just sort of came by, said hello to Jody, gave me a wave. It was sort of funny, though, when we made eye contact, he kind of- winced, I guess. Then waved. Then left. It was weird.”
“Eugene is pretty okay,” Sam says, fairly. “The one you need to watch out for is-“
He should have known that the universe would take that as a cue.
Because, at that very moment, Jack sidles over, a slightly awkward looking Eugene in his wake.
His groan must leave Runner Five to infer what he was about to say, because she pats him sympathetically on the knee, then smiles brightly up at the pair. “Hi, Jack. Hi, Eugene.”
“Good evening, gorgeous,” Jack says, with a touch of his typical extravagance, and pulls out two chairs for him and Eugene- next to Sam, naturally. “How’re you two these evening?”
“I’m pretty good, actually,” Five says, grinning dazzlingly at Jack- these two might have a smile-off in a minute, Sam muses. “Thanks for asking. You, Sam?”
“Fine,” he manages, because anything he says can and will be used against him as innuendo. “Thanks.”
Eugene chooses then to very pointedly knocks his crutches off the side of the table.
“Oh no,” he says flatly. “Jack, can you get those for me?”
Jack turns, his smile gone, and stares at Eugene. Eugene stares back. This silent battle of wills goes on for a few seconds, and then Jack bends to pick up the crutches.
Eugene leans over him. “Sorry about this,” he whispers. “But it was either this or announce your engagement over the air.”
Sam chokes. He’s still coughing when Jack resurfaces, leaning Eugene’s crutches against the table again with a dour look on his face. Eugene blinks at him innocently.
“My hero,” he says, giving a sort of attempt at eyelash-batting, and that certainly doesn’t help with Sam’s choking, and Runner Five just laughs, patting Sam on the back.
Jack looks put out that he was interrupted before he could harass anybody, but before he can complain, Runner Five cuts in smoothly with a, “I liked your show today, guys.”
Jack’s eyebrows go up. “Listening in?”
She nods, one hand still securely on Sam’s back as he inhales deeply. “Yep, on the way back Sam patched me in. I liked the bit where-“
“Lover’s quarrel?” Jack asks, one eyebrow raised dramatically, and Eugene, who’s taking a sip of water, rolls his eyes.
“No,” Runner Five says sweetly, “not quite. Sam and I are still very much- well, what would you say in this situation, Sam?”
Sam is starting to doubt his judgment in dating someone who is very clearly not just the root of evil, but the flower too. Five is the entire plant of evil.
“I, um,” he says, “I, well, uh. You know, what Five said. Still, uh, going strong.”
“Right,” Five said. “Thank you, Sam. And anyways, Jack-“
“So, nothing to report then?” Jack says, because he too is evil. “No… exciting news?”
“No,” Runner Five says, and Sam can tell she’s getting bored of this smile-and-nod game, because she’s out of food and she’s dropped the smiling part of the routine. “No, Jack, how about you?”
It’s Eugene’s turn to choke, but Jack ignores him. “That’s a shame,” he says, “because better earlier than too late, right? Unless you’re not sure-“
“Oh my God, fine,” Runner Five says, and Sam is, for one moment, completely unsure of what that means, but then she’s hauled him forward by the front of his shirt and is kissing him in a way that is most definitely not public.
He’s vaguely aware of Eugene pausing in his attempt to choke to death, and Jack chuckling triumphantly in the background. But he can’t focus too much on that, because he’s not sure if he’s ever been kissed like this before, and he certainly doesn’t intend on wasting it now.
She breaks it off much too soon, stands up, places her tray on top of the trash bin. “Happy now?” she asks Jack.
He just shakes his head, still chortling like a maniac.
“Right, well, see you later, guys. Night, Sam.” And she’s off.
Jack wipes his eyes, Eugene staring after Five thoughtfully. Sam can’t think of anything to say, so he focuses on catching his breath.
“I like her in this capacity,” Eugene says, with an air of finality. “She’s a keeper, Sam.”
“She is way out of your league,” Jack butts in, still giggling now and then. “Positively brilliant.”
Sam’s not sure if he’s talking about Runner Five or her spectacular (and vastly inappropriate) make-out session, but either way he’s probably right.
xxxx
“All right, Five, good job today,” Sam says over the headset. “I’m going to patch you into the radio?”
She groans, but says, “Go on, then.”
Jack’s voice bleeds through the speakers. “Good afternoon, listeners! This song goes out to a certain pair of lovebirds-“
“Not us,” Eugene’s voice cuts in.
“Not us, yes, right, and now that you know it’s not us I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out who it is. Hope you two enjoy!”
It’s almost more trouble than it’s worth.
But Sam can hear Runner Five’s laughter, tinny through the headphones, and can’t help but think, almost.