Work Text:
It’s the middle of November and Sam isn’t doing anything.
She doesn’t think she’s going to be doing anything either, probably—except that calculus homework that she didn’t turn in yesterday, or today. But aren’t teenagers supposed to be doing things? Like partying and hanging out with friends.
Well, Sam only has like, two friends. And those two friends are really her girlfriend’s friends who, probably, are only her friends because they have to be. Which is embarrassing, considering she’s a cheerleader. Aren’t cheerleaders supposed to be popular?
Whatever.
Her stomach is packed full with the obscene amount of garlic bread and spaghetti she had to eat not even an hour ago because her mom invited guests, even though she wasn’t even hungry. Nor did she want to interact with anybody. It’s definitely taken a toll on her, if the way her eyes are drooping closed at least every three minutes signifies anything.
Right about now, she wants nothing more than to have a long, uninterrupted sleep. No mom, no stupid calculus homework, nothing. Sam makes a noise as she lets her head relax into her pillow. She isn’t even bothered to turn off the light.
It’s cold when Sam hears something land against her window. Too cold. It’s too dark, and it’s definitely too… November-y . The sound startles her right awake again and sends an uneasy feeling straight to her heart. Who the hell would be at her house this late?
She peers out the window, nervously, ready to dart back down and hide, or something. Only, it’s Deena, holding a handful of twigs from the driveway. Sam is wide awake once again. She has a terribly smug grin slapped onto her face. Sam can’t help but laugh, but throws a hand over her mouth, because she doesn’t want her mom coming up and asking what she’s laughing at. Deena throws her head back and laughs, too.
(Deena is pretty when she laughs. Sometimes, when she laughs hard enough, she snorts. It’s one of the prettiest things Sam has ever heard.)
She slides open her window slowly to avoid it creaking. She whisper-yells down to her, “What the hell are you doing here, Dee?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing?” She says, far too loud for how quiet her neighborhood is right now. It’s always dead silent at this time of night. She answers her own question by saying, “I’m coming to see you.” Her voice echoes down the street, and Sam is surprised that one of the further down neighbors hasn’t come barging out of their house demanding silence yet.
Deena’s always too loud, even when she tries not to be. During class, before Sam moved, when she tried to talk to her from across the room and instead got herself landed in detention. When they’re on the phone at night and Deena gets caught by her dad because she was whispering too loud. When they’re kissing in Sam’s room while her mom is still at home, and Sam runs her fingers through Deena’s hair and she hums long and slow, and just kisses her deeper. She’s vocal . It’s something Sam loves about her.
A nervous flush rolls down Sam’s spine as she peeks behind her at her door, cracked open. She puts her finger to her lips in a fast motion and shushes her. “Deena, my mom will hear you!” Neither of them really care about that.
Well, maybe Sam does. Just a little.
“So? What’s she gonna do, shoo me away?” She scoffs. “I’ll just come back.”
“That’s exactly what she’s gonna do,” Sam says with a heavy sigh. “You know she doesn’t like you.”
“Yeah, but you like me.” She’s got you there.
Sam doesn’t say anything to that. Instead, she opens her window wider. Still slowly, even though her arm starts to hurt from holding it up for so long. She rests her elbows on her windowsill and rests her head in her hands, staring down at her girlfriend who still has twigs in her hands.
Suddenly, she drops them. They land against each other with a barely audible click while Deena wipes her hands off on her pants. She turns to Sam again.
“Sam, come down.”
Sam looks back at her with wide eyes. Her brows pinch together in confusion. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Deena, no.”
“C’mon.”
“No.”
Deena’s face melts into a pleading expression. It’s sickeningly sweet, her bottom lip sticking out and eyes resembling that of a kicked puppy’s. She’s pretty sure she even hears her sniffle a couple times for good measure. Both Deena and Sam know that she can’t say no to her when she does that. She’s tried, and every time was the same losing battle.
(Saying no to Deena and actually meaning it is always a losing battle in the end, even without the puppy dog eyes.)
So, Sam relents with a shake of her head. “You are an absolute idiot, Dee.” She turns to grab her favorite jacket and slips it on. Her long sleeves ride up as the jacket sleeves move up her arms.
“I know.”
“You know I can’t win when you pull shit like that.”
Deena looks smug. “I know.”
She shakes her head when she steps back to the window, then leans forwards and grimaces at the ground below. “How would I even get down?”
Deena looks at her, perplexed. “Have you never climbed from a window before?”
“You have?” Sam knows the answer to that question. She knows that very well.
“Yeah, actually I have,” she says. “From my memory, I remember her saying I was ‘ very skilled for someone who can barely take two steps without stubbing my toe.’”
“Shut up,” Sam mutters, rolling her eyes. A smile manages to creep onto her face anyways and give her away. She remains still at her windowsill, calculating her next movements.
She must have been sitting there for a while, because Deena says with something akin to a teasing lilt in her voice, “Don’t worry princess, I’ll catch you if you fall.”
“Please, with your puny biceps? I’d like to see you try,” Sam teases.
Deena mock-frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re so mean, Sam. You know I totally could.”
After looking back one last time at her door, Sam carefully sets foot outside the window. (Thank fuck there’s a tree conveniently outside of her window.) “If you say so. Still doesn’t mean I’m going to purposely slip so you can inflate your ego even more.” Deena laughs loudly at that, and Sam lets her.
For Sam, love makes her brave. It makes her do things she would never do with anybody else. It makes her want to do those things—like kissing Deena right in front of her mother. Like holding her hand when they’re out in public and rolling her eyes to the people who whisper about them, cracking jokes whispered into ears and listening to loud bursts of laughter afterwards. Like sneaking out of her room at night to do… something, with her girlfriend. Yeah, she still doesn’t really know what Deena wants with her.
But both she and Deena knew no matter how many times she said no she would still be climbing carefully down from her window anyways, because it’s the middle of November and Sam loves Deena.
When her feet are finally touching the ground again, she first remembers sorrowfully that she didn’t put shoes on, so now she’s standing outside with her favorite pair of socks. Fuck. Second, she sees that Deena is waiting for her with a dopey, pearly grin plastered onto her face. Her eyes are crinkled at the tips. Sam loves seeing those genuine smiles on her. It even tops the internal grief she feels over her socks.
Sam almost skips the rest of the way to Deena, captures her face with both of her hands, and kisses her square on the mouth. She feels Deena melt into the feeling, her hands sliding instinctively to her waist, grip firm but soft at the same time. Deena hums, long and slow and deep.
When Sam pulls away, Deena is the first to speak. “And here I thought you were worried about getting caught.”
“No. I just really like kissing you.” She pulls her in again. It’s miraculous that her mother hasn’t come rushing outside yet, hurling threats at Deena or something. Please stop thinking about your mom right now, Sam thinks as she sighs into Deena’s mouth, tongue lightly prodding at her lips. They don’t open.
Deena is the one to pull away this time. Her hands still rest on her waist, and Sam’s shift so that they cradle Deena’s neck. Her lips are a little bit swollen now. Her skin is warm, burning compared to the iciness of her own hands. “Missed you,” Deena says, eyes turning to her lips for a split second.
“We saw each other, like, yesterday.”
She frowns. “That’s too many days.”
Sam snickers. “Okay. What did you want me to come down here for?”
“I want to take you somewhere.”
She raises an eyebrow, curious. “And am I allowed to know where this ‘somewhere’ is? After all, you ruined my favorite socks.”
“Nope,” Deena replies with a shake of her head, popping the ‘p’. “No can-do, princess. A magician never reveals her secrets. And about your socks…” She looks down at her feet, then back up at her. “I’ll just get you new ones.”
Sam shakes her head. “These cost at least as much as your shirt, Dee.”
“How do you know what my shirt cost, huh? You stalking me or something?” Deena teases.
“I bought you that shirt for your birthday.” Sam remembers when Deena had been looking at that shirt in the mall. A day later she had gone right back there and bought it for her. Something in Sam melts a little remembering the look on her face.
After a moment of them just standing there, Deena, seemingly processing what she said before, then scoffs. “Jesus, that’s actually a rip-off. The socks.”
“Is not,” Sam protests. “They’re good socks. Really good socks.”
She nods, not looking too convinced. “Uh-huh.”
“They have those little teal and red dinosaurs on them, too.”
“Are we going to keep talking about your socks or are we going to go?”
Sam feels a cool flush crawl up her neck. “Uh. Yeah, let’s go.” She takes Deena’s hand and links their arms as they walk down the sidewalk. Sam is more than glad she decided to wear her long sleeve pajamas tonight. She can hear Deena’s teeth chattering from where she’s at now. She’s always like this when it gets cold—she thinks she can handle it just ‘cause she’s a little bit warmer than Sam is.
“You’re cold,” Sam says matter-of-factly.
“Nope. Am not.”
“I can hear your teeth chattering.”
“No you can’t. I don’t get cold.”
“Just take my jacket,” Sam slips off her jacket and shoves it into Deena’s hands. She mutters something as she quickly puts it on. She makes a contented noise that Sam doesn’t think she was supposed to hear.
Sam asks, “Better?”
Begrudgingly, Deena replies, “Yeah.”
“Told you so.”
“Fuck off.”
Sam takes her hand again and kisses her knuckles, even though her hand is positively freezing. She nearly flinches back from how cold it is. Deena doesn’t seem to notice, and instead keeps holding her hand.
“Y’know,” she says slowly, “even though I still don’t like Sunnyvale, I will admit that the scenery is nice.”
Sam raises a brow. “The scenery, huh?”
“Yeah. The fact that everyone has the same exact flowers on each of their lawns helps it even more.” Sam can’t help the laugh that leaves her, because Deena’s right about that. Whenever she goes out on her own, she always sees the exact same flowers on each person’s lawn. Sometimes they’re even in the exact same order, which makes Sam laugh harder.
Deena only looks at her, eyebrow raised. Sam responds with the same expression. She says, “It wasn’t that funny, babe.”
“No, I—” Sam snickers again, then restarts, now embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t be,” Deena says with a shrug. Her thumb runs over Sam’s knuckles as she gently swings their hands back and forth. “I like hearing you laugh.”
Sam doesn’t respond to that. She doesn’t really know how to. If she’s being honest, she doesn’t really know how to go about answering any compliments she gets.
Sam has always been too awkward for her own good. It’s what made her mom eventually give up on trying to make her into the young lady she had wanted her to be. It’s what doomed her spot on the cheer team, and it’s also what made her quit . It’s what made her unpopular even while she was on the cheer team, and while she was dating Peter.
Fucking Peter. Sam’s already feeling nauseous just remembering him. And not the good, butterfly type of nauseous that she feels around Deena, either. Definitely not.
He moved to Wisconsin about a year and a half ago. She remembers, one night a couple months before he moved, he called her and tried to ‘fix things’ between them and asked her out again. He was so cocky about it that Sam had wanted nothing more than to walk all the way to his house just to punch him square in the nose. At least he’s finally gone.
Deena elbows her lightly in the ribs. “Sam,” she says.
She turns to look at her. “What?”
“I can feel the tension in your brain from a mile away. What’s going on in there?”
“Just thinking about Peter.” Sam’s face twists in disgust as the name leaves her mouth. Deena doesn’t look very concerned. She hasn’t looked that way for a long time. Sam feels trusted.
“Ugh, fucking Peter.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “I’m so glad he moved to, what, Wyoming? Who even lives in Wyoming?”
“Peter, I guess.”
Deena breathes a laugh. “Well,” she starts, “I’m glad he’s gone. Now, I can do this—” she surges upwards and presses a kiss to her lips. It’s deep, and it’s short and when she pulls away Sam just wants more.
Sam says, “Just that?”
“No. I can do plenty of other things,” she responds, looking Sam up and down before finally staring back up at her eyes. “But that’s for another time.”
Sam feels herself turn a gentle pink. With a warm rush swirling in the pit of her stomach, she bites down on her lower lip. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her plaid pajama pants and turns away quickly, hoping Deena doesn’t notice.
Sam changes the topic with a stutter in her voice. “U—uh-huh. Are you still not gonna tell me where we’re going?”
Deena’s hand shoots up to her grasp at her chest. “Oh, how little trust you put in me, Sam! You wound me so.” She shoots her a dopey, wide grin, then shakes her head. “Fine, fine, since you really wanna know… I’m taking you to my lucky spot. In the woods.”
Sam’s eyes widen immediately. “The woods? What if there’s like, snakes? Or bears?”
“Sam, this is Ohio. Barely anyone lives here, much less any thing .” Seemingly seeing Sam’s still worried expression, she continues, “But. If we come across any creepy crawlers, I’ll protect you. I throw a killer hook.”
She rolls her eyes. “Right, ‘cause your ‘killer hook’ sure saved you when Danielle Evans fucking—”
Deena cringes, letting out a groan as she throws her hands over her face. “Sam. Oh my god, don’t remind me!” Sam looks at her, amused. “It’s a sensitive topic! You’re the worst. Like, ever.”
“Yeah, but you love me.”
“Mm, no I don’t.” With that, Deena stops her and pulls her into a kiss. It’s deep and it’s long, and the lights are on in the house they’re currently standing in front of. Anyone could see, but with the way Deena is holding her face in her still icy hands, Sam couldn’t possibly care less. Her lips are soft and plush and her nose nuzzles into the surface beneath her eye as she deepens the kiss, tongue gently poking at her mouth. Sam sighs into the kiss, very nearly opening her mouth but instead pulling away. Deena looks almost heartbroken and gives her a pout.
Sam whispers, “Later. When we’re at your alleged ‘lucky spot in the woods’.” Sam smiles. It’s a promise. A promise of hopefully just them, and trees, and kissing in the dimness of the moonlight. She nearly swoons.
Deena hums. “M’kay.”
They continue walking in comfortable silence, holding each other’s hand and swinging their arms. Sam wonders what time it is. Wonders if her mother has figured out that she isn’t in her room anymore. The cold air continues to bite at the skin of her face.
Sam hates Ohio. She always has. From the start, she’s dreamed of moving somewhere… else. She has options, for sure. Some ivy-equivalent in Boston wants her, even though she really wants to go to Washington. Nowhere in Washington wants her. Yet. (Her mother still wants her to go to Boston, but this is the one thing that Sam thinks is hers.) She dreams of cherry blossoms and big cities and bright lights. Sharing an apartment with a curly haired, permanent roommate and a little dog.
She looks at Deena and if her eyes could turn into big, cartoony hearts, then they would right now. Deena stares back at her with the same amount of dreaminess, and Sam almost doesn’t hear her when she speaks. Almost.
“I brought weed.”
Sam looks at her, shocked. “Deena, what?”
“What? Have you never tried it before?”
Sam looks to the side as she lies, “Yeah. Totally.”
Deena is quiet for a moment. Sam feels her eyes scanning her face extra close. “You totally haven’t.”
Sam swears under her breath. Deena always figures these types of things out. “Was it really that obvious?”
“No. I just know that in all my years of knowing you, you have never once offered to smoke with me, Kate, and Simon.” Deena gives her a cheeky grin. Sam rolls her eyes, elbowing her in the shoulder and pushing her away. But not angrily. Never angrily. Deena laughs, snorts. Sam’s heart flutters.
Despite her heart becoming something akin to a butterfly, Sam says with as much irritation as she could muster, “Piss off, Johnson.”
“You’d miss me too much.”
Sam keeps her lips sealed. At this point, she can’t tell if she’s doing this on purpose or not—the whole, ‘Deena saying it as a joke but really that’s what Sam is thinking 24/7’ thing. Looking at her, Sam nearly stumbles, but she manages to catch herself before Deena notices. She rubs at her nose, trying to put feeling back into it. It just barely works.
“Whatever, I only brought it just in case—shit,” Deena grabs her wrist and pulls her quickly across the quiet road, and they continue to walk on the sidewalk. The street lights hurt her eyes a little bit. She says, “Woops.”
“Woops,” Sam echoes. She smiles, teeth tinted off-white through drinking too many cups of coffee during the early hours of the morning and the late hours of the night. Even after having drank a cup of coffee five minutes before Deena showed up, Sam is still too tired. Caffeine never seems to work on her when she needs it to.
Sam is nearly yawning when she says, “I love you.”
Deena is holding back her snickers when she replies, “I know you do. I love you too.”
They end up not going to Deena’s ‘lucky spot in the woods’. It’s too cold, even with jackets on, and they’ve both lost a majority of feeling in their faces, so they take shelter in a diner that is somehow still open. Only one other person is inside besides them, and it’s the middle aged lady who works there, who seems less than pleased—probably because in all of their ten minutes being there, they haven’t ordered a single thing.
“You know, we should probably order something,” Sam says.
“Why?”
“That lady over there is giving us death glares. If we don’t order something in like, five minutes, she’ll probably kick us out.”
“Well, I don’t have any money.”
“Neither do I.”
Deena leans over the table and whispers to her, “Then let’s just leave.”
Sam snickers. “I can already imagine the look on her face. Let’s go.”
So Deena grabs Sam’s hand, and they’re gone, and nothing else seems to matter anymore.
It’s just them, and loud laughs, and kissing under the yellow glow of streetlights.