#samcarpenteredit

You had your answer when you opened your door. Sam stood in the empty hallway of your apartment, the raindrops on her black jacket were shining under the yellow light; she had her hands stuffed in her pockets, always looking a little out of place right as she arrived. As much as you shouldn't, you were growing fond of her dark eyes and small smiles.

She walked inside quietly and you locked the door behind her — there wasn't a need for words, not really, you both knew what you wanted; why she was there.

The agreement was made with the effect of a few drinks on one night, just the right amount for extra courage and boldness. No feelings, no personal business, no getting attached; that was the deal. It was all about having fun and blowing off some steam without having to worry about the complications that came with a relationship — with being vulnerable.

You had your reasons for it and Sam had hers. It worked.

Until it didn't.

You kissed down her body. Your lips traced a path against her smooth skin, from her neck to her ribs and all the way to the curve of her waist. You always took your time with her, each of your kisses breaking a rule in their wake. You could feel every hitch of her breath each time you touched a sensitive place on her body; it was honestly quite hard to find a place where she wasn't sensitive.

Though you think she likes it slow too, because Sam tends to interrupt you; she'll tug on your intertwined hands and pull you up so she can cup your cheeks. Her kisses were eager but never bruising, you could feel the hotness of her breath lingering on your lips when the hands tangled in your hair kept you close.

She lay underneath you, with the only light illuminating your bedroom coming from the street lamps outside. You could see the outlines of her features, feel the bare skin of her legs whenever she moved.

You couldn't help bringing a hand up, your thumb tracing her lower lip before you leaned in for another searing kiss.

Sam's nails scratched at your back then, bound to leave a few telltales for the morning. She pulled you into her the closer she could manage, gasping into your mouth when your naked chest pressed to hers.

The rules were her idea, she had been demanding on the no feelings part. She wasn't here to be loved, or cared for, or cherished. It was the one thing she made clear she didn't want.

Yet with every touch of her lips on your body, with every breathy moan that slipped past her defenses, and every time her hands pulled you a little closer — it felt like she was begging you to do just that.

You knew part of her story, mostly from the rumors from before and after the Ghostface attacks on New York. Admittedly, you understood why she wouldn't want to allow people close. Though sometimes her loneliness was almost palpable.

So, you took your time with her. And Sam let you, because she cherished every second of it.

—

The rain had picked up when you gave her the last kiss of the night; the heavy droplets were loud against your windows as they poured down from the sky.

Sam had stolen your shirt. She stood before your window in nothing but her underwear and the faded Bon Jovi shirt you loved, glaring up at the sky as if it would pity her and stop its downpour only for her to get home.

You were sitting cross-legged on your bed, already back in your comfy pajamas. If she happened to stay over, which was quite rare, Sam would be gone in the morning before you woke up. You chewed on your lip, considering what you were about to say. "You know you can stay if you want, wait it out. I don't mind."

Sam glanced at the clock on your bedside table, it read 11:38 PM. She was hesitating; you could see it in the way she pressed her lips tightly together, in the way she bunched up the ends of your shirt in her hands.

Sam got back in your bed silently. She kept a reasonable distance between you two. She didn't look like the same person who had her limbs tangled with yours just a few moments ago.

The air felt electric with tension, with a timidness that shouldn't be there because you knew every curve of her body as if it was your own — yet this felt more intimate than anything else trapped between hot touches and breathless kisses.

You fell asleep first and Sam followed soon after, but not before taking the privileged opportunity to engrave the image of your peaceful features in her mind forever.

—

The red numbers on your clock read 2:59 AM when you woke up.

An unhappy groan escaped you as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. First thing you registered in the darkness of your bedroom was that rain was still pouring heavily outside, though aside from that, nothing seemed out of place, and you wondered what had disturbed your slumber.

Then, you felt movement beside you, and you remembered the visitor who stayed.

Sam was breathing heavily, panicked gasps escaping from her lips. She had a soft frown on her eyebrows and cold sweat collecting on her forehead. The grip she had on the bedsheets was nearly ripping the fabric.

Worry tugged at your heartstrings immediately. You sat up, scooting closer to her so you could lay a careful hand on her shoulder, "Sam," you whispered gently, "Sam, wake up, I think you're having a nightmare." You kept talking yet got no reaction from her.

It was only when your fingertips grazed her cheek, that she jolted awake. A strangled gasp got stuck in her throat when her wide eyes locked on you; she clumsily pushed herself away from you, almost falling off the bed.

"Sam, calm down," you scrambled to turn on the bedside lamp so she could see you more clearly, "it's just me," you spoke softly.

The sight of her broke your heart. You've never seen Sam like this. She was breathing so heavily you feared she might hyperventilate, her lower lip quivering with each intake of air; tears were steadily collecting on the bottom lid of her eyes, still wide as she looked around, checking every dark corner of your room.

It took several beats for her to seemingly recognize you, and when she did, she finally sat up properly; dropping her head on her hands when quiet sobs started shaking her body. It sounded as if she was trying to hold them back, as if she didn't mean for you to see it.

You moved closer then, one of your arms coming around her shoulders. It was uncharted territory, something that wasn't meant to happen.

"Sam," yet you spoke as if you'd loved her for a long time, "it's okay, you're okay." Your lips met the fabric of your shirt on her shoulder and you laid a kiss there, squeezing her body to yours, "you're okay, I'm here for you."

That was enough to break through the rest of the barriers Sam had built around her heart, because she turned to you and hid her face in the crook of your neck. Her arms circled around your waist and her fingers curled around the fabric of your pajama shirt desperately, as if you could slip her grasp any moment.

You brought your other hand to the back of her head, burying your fingers through her hair. She melted into you.

The tears rolling down her cheeks dampened your shirt, but you couldn't find it in yourself to mind; all you cared about was holding her for as long as she needed.

And you wondered just how long it had been since someone was willing to do that for her.

Sam was the one who pulled away first, and she didn't meet your eyes as she did so. She quickly dried off the remaining tears. You could still see the shaking of her hands.

Figuring she could use at least a few moments alone, you got up from the bed and walked to the kitchen. The wooden floor was cold on your bare feet as you waited for the glass to fill with water.

When you came back to your bedroom, Sam's eyes were already following your every move. Though there was a shyness there that was new. She felt bare in front of you, more than she'd ever been before.

You sat back down quietly, extending the glass of water towards her.

Sam took it from you with an unsure tilt of lips. Several beats passed where she just looked at you, there was a mix of sadness, and want, and hesitance in her glinting eyes. "I'm sorry," she eventually mumbled. Her voice was tight, you figured she was one word away from breaking down all over again.

The yellow glow of your bedside lamp highlighted the tear tracks on her cheeks. You knew she wasn't apologizing for tonight. She was apologizing for breaking her own rules.

"Don't be," you told her when you pushed back strands of her dark hair, your touch lingering on her jaw, "because I'm not."

You didn't have much time to prepare for the way Sam reached for the back of your head and pulled you in, her lips colliding with yours as she nearly spilled all the water from the cup she was holding.

When stripes of morning sunlight eventually came in through your window, they highlighted the waves of Sam's hair, the curve of her sleepy smile as she cuddled up to you.

And you kissed her good morning.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3