Crappy Days
by Suz suzvoy@tesco.net

Disclaimer - MGM/Gekko/Double Secret own them.

No spoilers, but I imagine this being set in season three. PG-13. Feedback would be appreciated, of course :)

*

She hates herself on days like this - when all the things that shouldn't matter, do.

Like the fact that it's been nearly two years since her last kiss, never mind the last time she had sex.

She hates herself for thinking that she needs, craves that kind of contact, yet somehow she also knows that everyone does, sometimes.

It's human.

On days like this, she wishes she wasn't.

Having proceeded no further than getting dressed into her underwear, she stands in her bathroom, staring into the mirror.

She turns, studying her profile. Sucking her stomach in, bloating it out. Peering further down to see her rear (trying not to but of course noticing how badly her legs need a shave) and wondering if there any butt exercises she can do. She should ask Janet...

Turning to face her front, she cups her breasts, pushing them together, pondering the sanity (and comfort) of a push-up bra.

Pouting deliberately for the mirror, she grins brightly, frowns heavily, and just for a moment imagines someone she really shouldn't watching her and amusing the hell out of him.

Sam sighs.

Yeah, she hates days like this.

It wasn't just one thing - but then, it rarely is. It simply crept up on her, and before she knew it she was requesting leave and actually exiting the base (which is stupid. So stupid. What else is she supposed to do?) driving home and falling into bed.

Where she didn't sleep for ten hours.

So she's tired, too.

The doorbell rings.

Sighing again, she picks up her robe and slips it on as she walks to the front of the house. She knows it's going to be Mrs Anderson asking for a cup of sugar. It's always Mrs Anderson asking for a cup of sugar, as if she can never quite make it to the store and thinks Sam has a sugar processing plant hidden somewhere in her back yard.

Reaching the front door, she ensures her robe is tied securely together (in her current mood, not so bothered about Mrs Anderson seeing her underwear, but *no one* should be exposed to legs that hairy); she grabs the handle and swings it open.

It's not Mrs Anderson.

She doesn't have time to voice her surprise however, because suddenly something metallic is shoved into her face.

Blinking, she pulls her head back to focus on it. "What is that?"

"It's yours." He tells her, gesturing for her to take it though she doesn't. "You left it on base, and as it seemed pretty important I thought you might need it."

She will not express how ridiculously overjoyed she is that he's outside her house, wearing another of those ugly yet cute black woollen hats.

Focus on the metal thing. Focus.

"I don't recognise it." She frowns, genuinely trying to figure out what it is, and for once actually having no idea. It looks like some kind of hybrid between a fork, a spoon, and a lid from can of dog food.

"Ah," He says, immediately lowering his hand and shoving the metal thing into his jacket pocket. "My mistake."

He looks at her as he says it, and suddenly she understands.

He knew all along that it wasn't hers. And it probably *is* a hybrid between fork, spoon, and lid.

Because he made it.

Because he was worried about her.

Oh, this is so completely the best and worst time for him to do something so...so...

Shewillnotcryshewillnotcryshewillnotcry.

The crappy mood, the low self-esteem, and him being so...so...

Those babies are gonna come out, no matter how hard she tries to blink them back.

And then they are.

He seems horrified at first, taking a step back, peering over his shoulder as if to make sure no one is watching. He shuffles awkwardly from foot to foot, and just as Sam's mortification is making her move, to back up into the house, he suddenly steps forward.

She tries to pull away, because God - *he can't see her like this* - but he's murmuring her name, her first name, and she's inhaling the scent of another *actual* human being...

So she stops struggling, holds on to someone else, and realises that it's not quite as terrifying as she thought.

Plus, that leather jacket?

Yowza.

~FINIS

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