Sweetember week 1~
|GENRE: fluff
|PAIRING: sam monroe x reader
The smell of smoke lingered on SAM MONROE's hoodie-probably from the cigarettes he swore he wasn’t smoking anymore. Black polish was chipped to little crescent moons at the tips of his fingers, as he leaned on the rake like it was his sworn enemy, scowling at the endless red and gold leaves that just wouldn’t stop falling from the apple tree his mom had been growing since he was two.
“You know they’re just gonna come back tomorrow, right?” he muttered, pushing his hair out of his face with the back of his hand.
Your eyes moved from the hot mug of cider that kept warming your palms to Sam. It was a lazy afternoon in Monroe's household- Sam's mother was baking a pie, you were send on a mission with your very grumpy boyfriend to clean the garden, while Peter and his sons went looking for the greatest pumpkin imaginable. Putting the cup on the porch, you took a few steps closer to Sam and just..smiled at him. “That’s kind of the point. It’s fall. You rake, they fall. It’s a cycle.”
“Stupid cycle,” he grumbled, but his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. Yet with a sudden spark of mischief glisting in his blue eyes, he dropped the rake and started piling the leaves into a ridiculous, lopsided mound.
You thought he might have some purpose behind it - for example making it easier to put the leaves in the bin, or something way greater (if it was even possible for someone like him). But you were so strongly mistaken. His eyes kept drifting to your legs, as if checking, calculating something, making your brows knitt together in a confused way “What are you-” Before you could finish, Sam had tackled you right off the porch into the pile, both of you sinking into the dry, crunchy mess. You shrieked and laughed, leaves flying into your hair, sticking to your sweater, creating a little protective ball all around you both before abruptly dropping on the ground where they were before. Brushing some of them that you thought you had on your face, you couldn't help but caught how Sam’s laughter came out loud and unguarded - the kind that startled even him.
“You’re insane!” you gasped, trying to shove him off.
“Yeah? Well, you looked too cozy up there,” he teased, bracing himself over you, hair all messy and cheeks flushed from the cold. For a second, everything went quiet-the wind rustling the branches overhead, the faint glow of the pumpkins you’d carved sitting on the porch. His thumb brushed a strand of leaf-dusted hair from your cheek, his eyes softening in a way they rarely did. Then, just as your heart started hammering, he leaned down and kissed you- quick, awkward, yet in all of this, warm. The kind of kiss that tasted faintly of cider and nervous hope.
When he pulled back, he muttered, “Don’t make it a big deal.”
You grinned, tugging him back down by the collar of his hoodie. “Too late for that.”
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