#p029

Considering his late night, Sam wasn’t entirely sure how he was up and moving around so early. Well, slightly later than his normal seven AM time, but sleeping in had proved to be necessary after the unexpected encounter with Dani.

Which, he wasn’t really intending to mull over the ‘why’ of that whole situation. He wasn’t above being somebody’s late night booty call, and figured he’d chalk it up to luck of her phone’s draw and call it a day.

There were far more pressing matters to attend to, like the quest for a pineapple fanny pack. What started out as a ramble to distract Mia from whatever bothered her at the late hour seemed like a genuinely good idea once he was awake.

So naturally he found himself searching online, which led him to a small shop no more than twenty minutes away in a Lyft that thankfully kept early hours.

With his newly acquired fashion statement tucked safely in a bag and his stomach growling, Sam found himself another Lyft ride later at one of his favorite spots in the city. The comic book shop also served dual purpose as a coffeehouse, allowing people the chance to browse and sip and linger as long as they liked. Though on a Saturday morning, and the morning of Pride, lingering seemed to be the name of the game.

Still, he managed to find an empty spot, squeezing in at the small table near a large window. He’d finished his breakfast sandwich and was more than halfway through the new Spiderman when a voice above him asked, “sorry, but is anyone sitting here?”

Sam glanced up from the antics of Peter Parker to meet dark eyes peering almost nervously at him, in the polite way someone could when tasked with having to put aside the instinctual awkwardness of invading a stranger’s personal space.

“Oh. Yeah sure, let me just clear some of this stuff…” he pushed his glasses up further on his nose and shifted the empty plate from his sandwich closer towards him along with the bag filled with comics he’d already purchased to make room for the young woman, who flashed him a grateful smile as they sat.

She wore a cheery yellow sundress, the color complimenting her bronze skin and dark curls, and a kind smile that only carried a hint of polite apology once she settled at the table, balancing a huge cup of coffee and some kind of cranberry muffin fit for a family of five.

“Thank you, I really wasn’t expecting this place to be so crowded it's still kinda early.”

Sam shook his head. “Yeah I guess we all had the idea of gettin’ in early before the Pride rush started.” He nodded towards the group of patrons who’d commandeered one of the larger tables, noting their rainbow attire right down to the large rainbow top hat one was wearing and he flashed his new breakfast companion a grin that he was glad to see returned.

“Seems like they’ve already got the spirit. Sorry, I’m Sunny.” She extended a hand and Sam shook it, lips tugging into a grin.

“Nice to meet you, Sunny. I’m Sam.”

“Sunny and Sam. We could’ve had a killer variety show back in the day.”

That made the blond laugh. “I guess it does have that show business ring to it.”

He watched as slender fingers tore the tops off two sugar packets and added the contents to the large cup of coffee in front of her, only looking up at the sound of sheepish laughter.

“I feel like I gotta apologize for this ginormous cup, but I promise I'm not one of those ‘coffee is life’ people. Just needed the caffeine boost.”

Sam held up both palms. “Hey now, this is a judgment free table. You wanna have a coffee the size of a small toddler that's between you and your future caffeine rush."

The pair shared a laugh and Sam ducked his head, grin still firmly in place when long fingers reached for his own (smaller) coffee.

There was something good about  meeting somebody at random. The energy of it all, a different kind of charge he hadn’t felt since moving to Los Angeles and moving into NDHQ. While he enjoyed getting to know his coworkers and developing good relationships with them, on and off camera, it was nice to not have that pressure of needing to impress, to meet someone and not have to ask how long they’d ‘been in the business’ or talk about kinks like stats from last night’s game.

This kind of charm felt familiar, like slipping into a worn leather jacket, a comfortable and seamless fit, the second nature rapport, and the banter, just run of the mill friendly.

No need for Samson or the constant shift between who he was or what he needed to be in the moment. Just two strangers chatting it up in a coffee shop.

He learned that she was studying for her masters in psychology at UCLA and wanted to work with at-risk youth, primarily children of color. He simply stated he was from Texas and an artist. The half-truths he figured would be difficult to form came easy, and Sam supposed it’s because they were rooted in reality. He did move here for work and to be closer to his brother, he was looking to find something in his career field, and he was a comic book fan.

It seemed like enough information for polite conversation with beautiful girls wearing yellow sundresses in a crowded coffee shop. And he wasn’t surprised when, after his coffee was long gone and she’d cleared away both the massive muffin and giant java with surprising swiftness that they discussed exchanging numbers.

He walked out with her, bag of comics and Fanny pack in hand, grin in place, and a new number in his phone. The goodbye out on the sun-filled sidewalk was pleasant enough and Sam turned to leave, a promise to call her on his lips when she spoke again.

“So I have a little confession.” His brow furrowed at her smile, reminiscent of the nervous one she’d first displayed when she’d initially approached his table and he was suddenly curious.

“What’s up?”

“I know who you are. I wasn’t sure at first since you’re wearing glasses and there’s probably hundreds of long haired blond guys in this city because duh, California. But your voice sounded familiar and then you said your name was Sam and I’m like...Sam...Samson. No too much of a stretch.” The smile was a little less nervous and a little more strained, and Sam’s own lips tugged into a frown because…

Of course.

And Sunny continued, reassuring him she wasn’t a stalker but mostly curious and Sam could feel the tips of his ears growing hot when she mentioned that she’d watched all of his videos.

“I’m sorry if this is weird, and I probably shouldn’t have said anything but...I just, yeah. It is you, right? Samson?”

“It’s uh, Sam" he replied, clearing his throat with low cough. Long fingers raked through his hair and his gaze caught hers, olive eyes unreadable as he offered a slight shrug. “But yeah. That’s me. Sorry, but I gotta get back--"

“Sure! Oh sorry, I’m sure you’ve got a busy day. I really do apologize for making this weird. And because I keep saying it’s weird. You...um, it was nice to meet you, Sam. Take care.”

Sam wasn’t sure what to make what had just happened, knowing he’d have to process it all at a time when he wasn’t running on just a few hours sleep and approaching a busy day.

But something settled in the pit of his stomach, something heavy that felt like disappointment and lingered like the tightness in his chest and he wondered if his job-related encounters would ever stop throwing him for a fucking loop.

Nevertheless, he offered Sunny a ghost of a smile and nodded, even as he made a silent reminder to delete her number later because the last thing he needed was an added layer of ‘fucking with fans’ weirdness with his job.