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frvnkcastles · 5 months

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EVERY NIGHT I BURN ➵ S. ROSSI

Summary: After a disastrous date with your high school crush, Sam is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: Borderline sexual assault, language, implied female reader, some descriptors

Word count: 5.6k (geez)

Author’s note: Making my comeback with a THREE year old fic that I was always too embarrassed to post anywhere for some reason. Anyway Sam is my favorite Jon character after Frank and I think about him on a regular basis :’) Sorry I’ve been so inactive lately, college is killing me!! Can’t wait to get back to writing during summer break.

”Hey, are you busy?”

Looking up from his bookkeeping, Sam lifted an eyebrow and tried his very best to maintain a stoic, neutral expression rather than breaking into the giddy smile he always felt coming on in your presence. Seeing you at the doorway of his office, dark hair flowing in the cool breeze and a gust of your perfume invading his space in the process, was nothing short of enchanting, making him clear his throat as he briefly glanced at where your skirt rested against your thighs and then back to the shiny eyes behind your glasses.

For you? Never. That’s what he wanted to say, anyway — that hell or high water, he’d make time for you. Instead, he lifted one hand to gesture at the empty office. ”Nah, somethin’ wrong?” he asked gruffly, yet the rough voice was nothing short of polite as he eyed you up and down as if to search for any signs of distress. The nervous wringing of your hands was the only clue he got, but he chalked it down to your typically shy — and endearing — personality with a soft, barely audible chuckle.

”No, no, not at all. I was just wondering if I could bother you with a favor? I got some shelves for the new house and uh, as much as I’d like to campaign for being a strong, independent woman... I do not know how to handle power tools”, you grimaced in a way that made Sam laugh fondly and glance at his boots before bringing his enamored gaze back up at you. ”Really, if you can’t, it’s—”, you began again before you could corner him into agreeing, but waving you off, he interrupted.

”Be my pleasure. Rather that than, uh, drive ya into the hospital after lettin’ you do it alone, right?” he spoke, cracking a joke that almost sounded strange coming from his quiet, level voice. Once the amusement in his tone registered in your head, though, you broke into a grin and nodded in agreement.

”Yeah, I’m a much better driver if you end up drilling a hole in your own finger”, you countered, only to realize the potentially offensive hint in your voice — at that, your smile faltered, but before you could do much more than open your mouth to explain you hadn’t meant to poke fun at his hands, he smiled at you.

”I gotchu, sweetheart. ’S all good”, he reassured before you could worry about hurting his feelings. There was a moment then, with you gazing into each other’s eyes, goofy smiles on your faces with no one needing to say anything.

Didn’t mean it stayed that way. With an excited cheer, your goddaughter was soon emerging through the entrance, disrupting the moment between you and Sam as she grabbed your shoulders. ”I thought that was you! Did you bring me lunch?” Maggie wondered with a grin, and laughing, you jutted your finger in your car’s direction, encouraging her to break free from the office with a delighted sprint again.

She was the reason you had come here, to begin with. You were a teacher and when a job opportunity near your favorite goddaughter had turned up, you took the chance to go back home and reunite with what little family you both had left. Within days, Sam had grown smitten with you — and Mags could tell; you, not so much. In his defense, how could he not? You were smart, caring, had the prettiest smile he had seen in years and there was no doubt about your kind heart. The way you treated Mags, him, and anyone you came across made his own heart swell. You were damn beautiful, too.

Now, nearly a month into your stay, you had formed new habits and routines, including stopping by the motel to get lunch to Mags. Sam had insisted that he’d feed the girl if you just let him, but frankly, your visits had an ulterior motive now — see, you really liked him, too. Again, how could you not? He was everything you loved in a man and whatever chance you got to spend more time with him, you leaped at.

Hence why you had insisted the furniture shop didn’t need to come over and install the shelves for you; you had a guy for that.

Before you could say anything more, the rev of an engine got your attention and both you and Sam turned your heads to the motel’s parking lot only to see an old but well-kept, stylish car pull up with no regard to the actual parking spots. You would have recognized the car and its white stripes from a mile away, pulling a surprised gasp from you — the same, joyous reaction was far from Maggie’s face as she traipsed back to the office with a glare at the car she had seen enough times not to trust its owner.

”Oh my Gosh, what are you doing here?” you gushed as you stepped back out into the warm spring air, your hand on your chest as you watched the tall, lanky guy step out of the car while unfolding his sunglasses into the collar of his shirt. Sam certainly didn’t miss the amazed tone in your voice, nor the hand placed on your arm as the stylish guy eyed you up and down.

”Heard you were back in town, I just had to see it for myself”, the guy grinned at you, and even from behind his desk, Sam could see the blush on your cheeks.

Trying his best to tune out the rest of the conversation, he clenched his jaw as he looked down at the papers still waiting for his scrutinizing. His focus was everywhere else, though, and suspecting as much, Maggie leaned her elbows on the counter to share her gossip with Sam with her stare still trained on you.

”That’s Benny. Complete jerk, if you ask me. They almost dated in high school but he’s always just been stringing her along”, Mags dished casually, and with an incredulous snort, Sam looked up with doubt in his dark eyes.

”That guy?” he confirmed, struggling to imagine a world where anyone would be out of your league. You were a gem; a whole treasure and he would have never made you feel like anything else.

Nodding, Mags glanced at Sam with a hopeful smile. ”He doesn’t deserve her. Maybe if someone nice actually asked her out for once”, she theorized, far from sneaky, but before Sam could scold her for her taunting tone, she continued. ”Until then, she’s just gonna let him play with her feelings because every time she thinks it might work out.”

With a frown, Sam looked over to the parking lot where you were, indeed, fawning over the man, lovesick grin and all. It was in that moment that his jealousy got beaten by his anger — not towards you, but towards the man for toying with your heart.

That said, he would have lied if something envious didn’t brew in the pit of his stomach when he watched you touch his chest and lean into him, laughing at his jokes.

———————

”Nervous?” Sam rasped from where he was hoisted on one of your chairs, arm leaning against the wall while glancing between you and the drill he was setting up. Maybe it was the date, maybe it was the sight of him rolling up his sleeves and hiking up his tight jeans that made you gulp, but either way, you ended up nodding. When he effortlessly grabbed the shelf off the table with one hand and balanced it against the wall in a way that made practically every muscle in his body flex against his clothes, you had to look away.

”A little”, you admitted with a dry throat, fiddling with the sleeves of your dress as you wandered back and forth in the small living room just to channel the anxious energy somewhere. ”Not to sound like a schoolgirl, but— he’s so cool”, you breathed out, an embarrassed chuckle accompanying your words as you checked the time on your phone again and then turned back to Sam who had paused his work and was looking at you with a lifted eyebrow.

He seemed to weigh his options for a beat, wonder what was the right thing to say when eventually he sucked in a breath and turned back to the shelf with the drill hoisted at the right position. ”Ain’t no one cooler than you”, he pointed casually before activating the drill and getting the nail through the wood effortlessly. ”You got that?” he emphasized when silence landed in the room again, his words demanding but his voice soft when he eyed you briefly. ”You’re a real gem, sweetheart. You deserve to be treated like one”, he added before adding in the second nail and then the third, giving you the chance to collect your thoughts while he worked.

Suddenly feeling the tension in the air, you chuckled quietly. ”Did Maggie say something?” you wondered, well-aware of how little she liked the man you had been drooling over for the past decade and more.

With a quiet laugh, Sam reached for the final nail. ”Maybe”, he confirmed, not getting to say much more when the tremble of his fingers betrayed him and the nail flew to the floor with a clatter. As he cursed, you jumped into motion, not allowing him the chance to climb down when you were already crouching down to pick up the nail from the floor in a way that had your skirt hiking up your thighs.

When you stood back up to hand it over, Sam was staring at you in quiet amazement, and softly, you smiled at him. ”Well, thank you”, you whispered, still thinking about his previous words as you stepped back to let him finish without you in his way — he, in response, felt his heart swing at the loss of your warmth and perfume in his face. ”I appreciate all of this”, you gestured at him with a grin, ”but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

With a nod, Sam gave you one more look, one that he was forced to tear away when the honk of a car filled your driveway with sound. He couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten at your adorable gasp, and any idea of saying goodbye left his brain when you reached forward to briefly peck his cheek, your soft lips tickled by the coarse hairs of his dark beard as you bid him farewell.

”I’ll make this up to you!” you promised with a smile, and chuckling, Sam ducked his head down and willed himself to not blush.

You already had.

—————

Ever the gentleman, Sam had decided to wait at your house for you to return from your date — partly to make sure you were safe, partly to see your excited smile when you’d burst through the door in an enthusiastic ramble of how it had gone. That was how he played it out in his head, anyway, giddy at the idea of your happiness even if it meant from another man. With your shelves up and installed, there was not much to do but linger around; even with the TV on, though, he found it hard to focus.

The entire house felt like you. Like one big comforting hug, one that you could never quite fit his large figure into but you always tried as hard as you could. You were sweet like that. As was the ghost of your perfume haunting the living room where Sam was seated, unable to think about anything but what kind of movie you’d choose to put on if you were there with him. One of the armchairs next to the couch he was on had some of your dresses draped over it — the rejected pile, he assumed, but the different colors and soft materials made his stomach swing when he imagined the edge of the skirt falling above your knees, the flowery sleeves a stark contrast to your dainty hands.

At that thought, he cleared his throat and got up from

the couch with unwillingness to stay there and obsess over you all night. He had already grabbed some water from the kitchen only to think about the baked goods you brought to the motel every now and then, the image of your warmth mixing in with the soft music you had mentioned liking while stirring a bowl of batter refusing to leave his head. And as he passed by the foyer on his way out, he noted your shoes, all in different styles yet somehow so you, and the large mirror where his smitten reflection was adorned by a colorful sticky note wishing a lovely day. With a smiley face and all.

He made his way to the local diner, then, figuring he could kill some time by grabbing some shakes and fries for when you’d get home. By the time he considered you already having dinner with your date, it was too late and he found himself striding up to the counter where he hoped the kind lady wouldn’t notice the red on his cheeks and the extra tremble in his fingers.

He had hardly limped his way over, though, when the lady he was quite familiar with gave him a sympathetic smile. A frown barely crossed Sam’s face when she pointed a finger across the diner, and when the tall man faced the right direction, he found you sitting in the furthest booth, drenched from the rain that had just stopped on his way over, hands shaky and cheeks stained with the make-up you had spent so much time on. An untouched cup of coffee sat in front of you, and it seemed like you had no intentions of moving anywhere.

Sam, on the other hand, abandoned his initial plan immediately and with a slight swing from side to side, stomped his way over to you. The heavy falls of his boots caught your attention quickly, and meekly, you looked up only to somehow feel worse at the worried pair of eyes you found staring back at you, concerned creases painted across Sam’s forehead as he fiddled with his fingers. He could see the slight disappointment on your face, but before he could take it personally, you were sighing weakly.

”This is so embarrassing”, you whispered, soon enough breaking into a sob as you covered your face with your hands and leaned towards the table. Without a second’s hesitance, Sam sat by your side, and when you moved to give him space next to you, he took the opportunity to wrap an arm around your shoulders and hold you close.

”Shh, shh, no, it ain’t. It ain’t. Promise, ’m not here to judge. Alright? Don’t even gotta tell me what happened if ya don’t wanna”, he assured, his rough voice so soft as he rubbed your arm soothingly and placed his head against yours. A mere second later, he was taking in your appearance, from the drenched hair to the mud on your knees, and with a regretful inhale, he walked back on his previous word with a gentle tone. ”Tell me if you’re hurt, though. Please, sweetheart”, he was quiet and respectful, and with the nickname welcoming something warm in your heart, you shook your head.

”Not hurt”, you confirmed, and although the faintness of your voice did little to comfort Sam, he nodded approvingly at the promise. When you said nothing more, he simply held you in his arms, caressing you softly and humming in your ear without empty vows of things going to be okay and you going to be alright. Right now, all he could offer was his presence and attention.

Somehow, that was enough. Your breathing leveled and your heart didn’t feel like it was going to jump out of your chest anymore, but rather, feeling the beat of Sam’s helped in grounding you. He was warm and comforting and for a moment, you forgot where you even were.

”That’s it”, he encouraged quietly when you grew more stable in his embrace, ”attagirl. I’m right here with you, darlin’.” Feeling you relax helped him relax, too, his fear slowly dismantling and his feeling of utter helplessness subsiding.

”You wanna tell me what happened?” he asked gently, never pushing, only giving you the chance to share if you felt like it. At first, you truly hadn’t, but now, with his care so thick in the air, you felt entirely safe telling him.

”You gonna tell me you told me so?” you asked, half-joking, and it earned a quiet snort from Sam before he pressed a tender kiss on the top of your head.

”Never.”

That was all the encouragement you needed, and with a deep sigh, you recalled the past two hours of your life. ”He took me to a drive-in”, you swallowed, feeling a shiver run down your spine at the memory. ”It was nice, actually Fun. Nostalgic. Then, he, uh, he kissed me. And I kissed him back. But then I—I tried to pull away and he—”, you continued, your voice breaking as you covered your mouth with your hand and exhaled.

”He wouldn’t stop. His hands were everywhere. So I—I somehow managed to get out of the car and I just… ran. I ran. I knew the diner was close by so I headed over here but it started raining and I fell so it took me a while but I just couldn’t go back”, you continued before gesturing at your ripped stockings and then leaning into Sam’s chest with your eyes sealed shut. ”I was so stupid. I should have listened to you and Maggie.”

Silence landed again, apart from the sounds around you and your soft sniffles. It was Sam, then, who was silent — his nostrils flaring and his heart pounding in his chest as he imagined the Hell you had been through. He wasn’t much of a fighter, but he sure as hell stood up to assholes like some of the men at his motel and this… this sad excuse of a human being who had had the chance of a lifetime with you. A chance that Sam would never waste for anything in the world.

”It ain’t your fault”, he finally rasped, trying to swallow down his anger even if the tick of his jaw betrayed him. He was glad you were huddled up against his chest, shielding you from seeing the fury in his narrowed eyes as he stared out of the rainy window and clenched his jaw. ”None of it. You did good, sweetheart. You did so good”, he continued, losing some of his temper as he wrapped both arms around your trembling body. ”You were real fuckin’ brave, ya hear me? Did nothin’ wrong. That guy is a piece of shit, you understand?”

You managed a nod before Sam continued. ”You deserve the world. I’m so sorry that happened. I ’preciate you sharin’”, he sighed, not even sure what more to say. He felt like he was going to be sick, though he doubted it was nowhere near to how you were feeling.

As if on cue, you shivered again, and he withdrew from you just enough to look at your drenched body. ”Listen, sweetheart, you’re freezin’. Okay if I drive ya home?” he offered, and unsure what other option you had, you simply pleaded yes to his proposal. Even if there had been an alternative, he was what you wanted — his safety, his reassurance, his guidance.

You just did not realize that he had sworn all of that since day one.

As you sat in his passenger seat, shaking from the cold as well as the adrenaline, Sam made sure to hold your smaller hand in his large, warm one, all the while cranking up the heat in the truck. It was silent for the most part, and when tears fell from your eyes only for you to hastily wipe them away, he said nothing, simply brushed his thumb across your hand and let you be. There was no judgment in the air, and even with your torn appearance, he didn’t stare, only glanced at you to make sure you were alright, eyes full of care and the wish that there was more he could have done for you.

When the truck was parked in your driveway, Sam was quick to leap out of his seat and circle the car to open the door for you and help you out of the fickle seatbelt. You didn’t hesitate to cling onto him, allowing him to guide you inside to the safety of your home where you toed off your shoes and let him hang up your jacket.

”You go get changed, alright? I’ll make you some tea”, Sam whispered, gentle as he brushed a hand across your hair and took a step away to allow you your space. The hesitation in your eyes suggested you weren’t quite ready to leave his side, but certain that getting dressed on your own was the best idea, you nodded and hid into the bedroom while he wandered to the kitchen.

It didn’t go unnoticed by either of you how naturally he blended into your life. Having him around the house felt like the most natural thing, and he breathed easy while getting out your kettle and pouring the boiled water into one of your big mugs. Well-aware just how much sugar and honey you liked in your tea, preparing the drink for you was like second-nature, like he had spent years with this routine, attached to you so tightly he didn’t even question it.

When you shyly snuck out of the bedroom, dressed in tights and a large, grey sweater, he was seated in your living room with his hands nervously wringing with one another. It made you want to laugh, how both of you were so on edge, but when you saw his eyes light up at the sight of you, as well as the steaming tea he had made just for you, and the shelves perfectly balanced on the wall behind him, you burst into tears, instead.

”The shelves look so nice”, you cried with a laugh, trying to wipe at your eyes while sniffling and taking a seat next to Sam. ”You’ve done so much for me”, you whispered, amazed by the kindness of his heart, but he was quick to protest with a quiet chuckle.

”’S just basic decency”, he countered quietly before observing you carefully. The scratches on your palms and wrists made him swallow and look away, but he gently knocked his knee into yours to promise he was right there as long as you wanted it. ”Whatever you need, alright? Just say the word.”

Carefully, you took a sip from the tea and then glanced at Sam. ”Is it weird if I ask you to stay?” you questioned weakly, and with an exhale, Sam wanted to promise you that he could have never said no to you. Instead, he gave you a shake of his head and offered a hand for you to take.

”I’ll be right here”, he swore. And true to his words, he stayed all night, making you a second cup of tea, helping you brush through the knots of your hair, sanitizing the scratches on your hands, messaging Maggie that you were home safe. He wiped your tears, hugged you tight, rubbed your back and kissed your forehead. And at the end of it all, he let you fall asleep on him on the couch, your head on his lap and his trembling fingers caressing your hair until you were soundly asleep.

And all he could think about was how he wouldn’t have minded watching over you every single day.

——————

The following day, Sam made sure to wake you up before leaving, breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen once he had apologized for slipping away so soon — however, you understood that he had a whole motel to run; not to mention, he had already done so much for you. As much was obvious when you sat in the kitchen by yourself, munching on the eggs and toast he had prepared, surprising yourself with the soft smile that crossed your lips at the thought of his kindness.

Sam, on the other hand, didn’t find himself smiling much at work. Mags was yet to clock in, and he was grateful — not wanting to reveal what had happened without your permission, but knowing that the girl would see right through his bullshit. The other personnel, however, had already asked if everything was okay.

And for the most part, it was. You seemed to be doing okay when he had left you, and he was glad to have been of any consolation. Nevertheless, he was so, so full of anger that it had even happened in the first place. And the fact that he had been right there, with the opportunity to stop you, not once but twice, yet he hadn’t. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he needed to channel the fury in his chest somewhere — why not himself?

That was what he figured until a familiar, sleek car was cruising onto the lot, parked like an asshole yet again. At the sight of Benny’s presumptuous face, Sam dropped the pen in his hand and swallowed thickly, his feet moving on instinct to stop the man from entering his premises. Suddenly blessed with a new target for his anger, Sam strode straight towards, a twinge of delight poking at his heart when he saw the scratches matching your nails on his jaw.

”Hey, is she around—”, Benny started, but that was all he got to utter out when Sam was punching him across the face, the crack of his nose most pleasing to the man’s ears as he watched the other man go down from the weight of his fist. Blood went flying across the concrete and despite the throbbing through his knuckles, Sam didn’t stand down from staring at the man at his feet now.

”You ain’t welcome here, you hear me? I never wanna see your stupid fuckin’ face again. Neither does she. You go anywhere near her, you’ll regret it”, Sam gritted out, his rough voice heavy as he glared at Benny who, in a flurry of panic, scrambled up to his feet and towards his car.

”You’re a piece of shit”, Sam added with a stern finger pointed at him, ”and you don’t deserve her. Fuck you.”

——————

Although the initial idea of being around people seemed exhausting, you were happy to get a visit from Mags. She pulled you into a hug out of instinct, but you had longed for the comforting embrace all day, therefore forcing her to stay in it a little bit longer. You supposed, then, you shouldn’t have been surprised by the question she broke the silence with once you finally pulled away and welcomed her inside.

”How was your date?” she inquired carefully, not missing the scratches on you but choosing not to blatantly point them out. Nevertheless, she radiated sympathy and you knew you could trust her — that said, you didn’t quite like the idea of burdening her with what had happened. You weren’t best friends gossiping, you were the closest thing she had to a guardian, and while communication was key, there were some things you weren’t meant to unload onto her.

”I don’t think there will be another one”, you stated simply with a quiet smile, and nodding thoughtfully, Mags followed you into the kitchen where you had been stress-baking all day. She, at least, was happy to grab one of your tasty brownies, and you hoped that Sam would appreciate the pie you had made just for him as a thank you for everything.

As if on cue, Mags hummed from the table she sat herself at while you continued slicing the brownies. ”So, uh, wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact I saw Sam

with bruised knuckles, would it?” she asked innocently, the obvious tension in your shoulders encouraging her to add, ”looked like someone got a taste of them, actually.”

Putting down the knife, you blinked at the wall in front of you and then turned to Maggie. ”Really?” you whispered, full of disbelief and amazement that Sam would do such a thing. He wasn’t usually a man of violence, so you struggled to come up with another explanation than him confronting Benny. And against all odds, the thought almost put a smile to your face — your asshole date had certainly earned it, but Sam doing that for you…

Well, you definitely hadn’t expected your heart to flip so violently at that.

”Uh huh”, Mags drawled before eyeing you with a grin. ”You like him, don’t you?”

You immediately reacted with a bashful chuckle and turned back to the brownies. You had thought about it before. Many times, in fact. He was handsome and kind and naturally loving, and despite his brooding, tall appearance, he was shy and gentle. He was good with kids and animals alike, and he made sure to make everyone feel welcome. But he was also so, so very easy on the eyes. And after last night… you had a whole new appreciation for the man and his good heart.

So, yeah. Maybe you did. You had just never been bold enough to take the leap and ask him out — he was, indeed, quiet and a little bit reclusive, making it hard to tell if he liked you or was just being polite. And frankly, you didn’t want to set fire to the friendship you had built with him.

Going out with Benny had seemed like such a good idea to find some company that wasn’t Sam, but now, you couldn’t help but wonder if it only had been good for driving you right into his arms.

—————

Sam was surprised to see you arrive at the motel — but positively so. When Mags stepped out of your car though, he guessed it was simply to drop her off, but he was quickly proven otherwise when you followed her lead with a pie in your hands. You were dressed in a worn pair of overalls and Sam couldn’t stop the somersault in his chest as he limped from behind the front desk to the parking lot, giving Mags a brief squeeze on the arm as she passed him by.

”It’s good to see you”, Sam breathed out as he nodded and observed you from head to toe briefly, ”you look damn nice.”

With heat already crawling to your cheeks, you ducked your head down only to catch a glimpse of his red knuckles in the process. You licked your lips tentatively and gave him a shy look. ”Your, uh, hand… Was that…”, you began, not really sure how to finish that thought.

…You decking Benny in the face for my sake?

”Yeah”, Sam rasped with a clear of his throat, ”yeah, he, uh… came lookin’ for you. Told him you ain’t interested.” For a moment there, he seemed almost embarrassed, his other hand going over the scabbed one to rub it nervously, but as soon as you broke into a careful smile, the worries in his heart evaporated.

”I appreciate that. I appreciate you”, you emphasized before handing over the pie. ”Pretty sure I owe you a dozen of these, but… I thought I’d start with just one. I don’t know how to thank you enough, Sam. You’re my hero, I guess”, you explained with a chuckle, your gaze falling to your boots before you looked back up at him only to find him shaking his head in a way that left his unruly curls bouncing.

”Nah, you don’t… you don’t owe me nothin’, sweetheart. ’M just glad you’re alright”, he promised while clutching the pie and pursing his lips as if there was something else to say.

You had something else to say, too. And for a second, you wondered if it was wise to speak out loud, but then you saw Mags and her vigorously encouraging gestures from inside the office, and then you faced Sam again and he just looked so beautiful and soft and—

”Would you wanna go on a date?”

Much to your surprise, your own words echoed back to you in his deep voice, your eyes flying wide when you realized he had posed you the very same question. A mere second later, you broke into a genuine laugh, and Sam’s lips curved upwards into a giddy smile as he nodded at you.

”We could start with this pie”, he offered with a chuckle, and with an agreeing smile, you returned his nod. Shakily, he lifted his hand for you to take, and you did not hesitate to wrap your fingers around his trembling ones so he could lead you indoors where Mags was cheering by herself.

Needless to say, your poor date was soon forgotten by an absolutely delightful one — especially when they did not stop coming, and within the next month, you found yourself being called Sam’s girlfriend.

He, for one, couldn’t recall the last time he had been so happy. Getting to leave his shoes next to yours in the foyer, getting to bring you tea to bed in the morning, getting to finally kiss your pink lips with his beard scratching your soft skin… He wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve it all, but he certainly felt lucky as hell.

#sam rossi x reader #sam rossi #sweet virginia

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mudkipper · 2 years

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Lonely

Sam Rossi X GN! Reader

Summary: You've got no doubt Sam's choosing to spend the night alone in his hotel room on New Year's Eve, so you decide to offer him some company.

Warnings: Smoking (weed), vaguely nsfw

Word Count: 4,051

A/N: Completely gender neutral! I haven't published a fic in upwards of four years so I hope it's enjoyed. Thanks @unstablecryptid for proofreading so blame him if there's any typos

Ever since he’d moved to Alaska, Sam spent most holidays alone, including New Year’s Eve.

Some of his acquaintances were friendly enough to invite him to dinners, parties, or other social gatherings, but he’d always politely decline, vaguely explaining that they knew how he felt about that sort of thing. They didn’t really know what he meant, not with how little he talked about his emotions or his past, but they never pressed. Maybe they were compassionate enough not to force him to open up, or maybe they were just afraid to discover that Sam had what they would consider a tragic past.

Sam never minded, though, or at least convinced himself he didn’t mind. He was better off alone, without anyone he could burden, or inevitably make uncomfortable because he ran out of small talk to make. He’d be courteous, keep to himself, spend his night with a book and a bit of weed to keep himself content. It was medical marijuana, he always told those who asked, but he knew that it was for more than just his achingly stiff joints.

Still, when he heard a knock at his door, and then a second set of knocks, he couldn’t bring himself not to answer.

When he saw your face, he let out an internal sigh of relief, knowing you definitely wouldn’t try to drag him to a party.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“I don’t know, I just figured you might need some company. I know you like your alone time, especially on holidays, but I… I wanted to see you,” you admitted, not adding that no one had bothered to invite you anywhere.

“That’s nice of you,” Sam said awkwardly, nodding slowly. It was kind of you to stop by, it really was, but he didn’t want you to come over just because you pitied him or thought he was lonely. Well, he was lonely, but that wasn’t for you to worry about.

“I brought ice cream,” you added, holding up two small containers of Ben and Jerry’s. “I don’t know what flavor you like, so I got you Half Baked, cause, y’know.”

That got Sam to crack a smile, to your satisfaction. It was a shitty joke and you both knew it, but he appreciated it anyway.

“Yeah, yeah, come on in,” Sam finally caved, stepping away from the door, “Speaking of, sorry about the smell, I, uh, I can get some Febreze, if you want.”

“You don’t have to stop smoking weed just ‘cause I’m here.”

Babysitting high and/or drunk friends was always a chore, but you knew Sam was a decent enough person not to get stupidly high around you, especially if you weren’t also smoking. On top of that, he actually bothered to buy good weed, so it didn’t smell nearly as bad as some of the shit you were around in high school.

“We could smoke together. If you want.”

You paused to mull it over, licking your lips. Sam definitely didn’t seem like a bad guy to get high with, maybe it’d even calm you down a bit. Honestly, you were somewhat upset about no one reaching out to you on one of the biggest social holidays of the year. Eating ice cream, getting high, and watching some mindless movie on your Netflix account- because Sam didn’t have cable or any streaming platforms- sounded like a relaxing way to spend the night.

“Sure.”

“Alright, lemme get my things. You can turn on the TV, put on whatever, you know I ain’t good with technology,” he said, as if his outdated television was some fancy sort of high tech.

When Sam came back with his pipe and a bag of weed, you expected he’d also have put on a shirt, but he didn’t even seem to notice he was shirtless. You weren’t exactly bothered.

As always, you started out watching television silently, not taking the time to make uncomfortable small talk or speak simply to fill up the space. However, as both of you struggled to focus on whatever easygoing show you’d chosen, one of you cracked.

“Why did you come here?” Sam eventually asked, even though he’d already asked once.

“It’s like I told you, I wanted to see you.”

“You didn’t have other plans? There must’ve been somethin’ more interesting for you to do, rather than spend your night with an old man like me. C’mon,” he pressed. It was difficult for him to believe someone, especially someone like you, would go out of their way on a holiday simply to spend time with him smoking weed and eating ice cream. There had to be better options, truly.

“Well, no,” you whispered, a wave of embarrassment crashing against you.

“Oh, I— I’m sorry.”

“Did you get invited anywhere?” you asked, instinctively re-routing the conversation. You didn’t need Sam to feel bad for you, you didn’t want him to think he was your last resort. Spending time with him was nice, it was comfortable. It felt right.

“Yeah.”

You gave him a pointed look, dramatically pulling your spoon from your mouth.

“Well, c’mon, you know how I feel ‘bout those sort of things. Just ain’t for me.”

You could empathize with that, with not wanting to be around large groups of people you barely knew who were drinking and acting irresponsibly. However, you knew it was more than that with Sam, it always was, he was more complex than people gave him credit for. You knew others thought he was just some quiet mountain man with loner tendencies, but you knew better than that.

“You should go, one time,” you suggested, even if he hadn’t asked for your opinion.

“They don’t…” Sam trailed off, scratching his beard, “They get on just fine without me.”

“Maybe, but I’m sure at least some people would like things better with you there. I do.”

“You do?” he asked, finally making eye contact.

“Yeah. Why else would I be here?” you answered honestly, offering a weak smile.

“You’re sweet, that’s… Thank you. But, uh, as I said, things like that just ain’t for me. I’m just fine staying at my own place, minding my own business, really,” he said, struggling to accept the compliment.

More than anything, Sam had become accustomed to being alone most of the time. In his opinion, he’d gotten pretty damn good at it.

You were tempted to push more, but stopped yourself, taking another hit instead. You wanted Sam to treat himself better, the way he treated others, but you were mature enough to know you couldn’t force him to change. You’d spent enough of your life hoping people would change.

Sam being antisocial didn’t mean you disliked him, the same way you disliked other traits in people, but it left a dull ache in your body. He was valued, especially by you, so much more than he’d ever know or that you’d ever be able to admit.

Eventually, after what felt like ages, Sam said, “‘S jus’ hard to…” he made a vague gesture by interlocking his fingers, “Connect with people, y’know? I mean, I know you know ‘bout my past, even if I haven’t told you every detail.”

Sam’s family died years ago, which was ultimately what motivated him to move to Alaska. Most of the time, he’d simply say his brother died and he’d moved down there to take his place as the motel manager. That wasn’t completely untrue, but if the rest of his family was still alive, he would’ve sold the property and gotten them a nice, safe house with a big backyard for his present and future kids to play in.

They’d all become the past, at that point. Faint memories whose faces became blurrier with every passing day, whose voices he no longer heard in his dreams. They still showed up in his dreams, they did, but they always seemed so far, like an echo of his own voice. He could never reach them.

The people living around the humble abode that was Sweet Virginia weren’t bad, but they seemed like echoes, too. Something he could hear, but couldn’t have, couldn’t quite latch onto. If he tried, maybe he could convince himself he’d caught one at last, but he knew he’d eventually lose them.

His heart wouldn’t survive that a second time, and even if nothing bad happened to anyone else, he knew he’d be gone soon enough. He couldn’t put someone he cared about through that, through the same loss he’d experienced.

“Sam?” you prompted, bringing him back to reality.

“Must’ve lost myself for a second there, I’m sorry, I—”

“You don’t have to apologize so much,” you said softly, “You’re fine, seriously. We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, I won’t be offended.”

It might’ve just been the weed making you spacy, but for a moment, you didn’t even feel like you were in the same room as Sam.

Sam exhaled deeply, leaning his head back against the wall, eyes glassy. He didn’t even need to look at you to sense your hurt, he’d spent enough time with you to recognize every one of your microexpressions. He hadn’t meant to upset you, truly. In fact, he’d been trying to do the opposite by avoiding talking about his own troubles.

He wasn’t sure he did anything right.

“I can talk about it. I should talk about it, prob’ly,” he thought aloud, giving in.

“You sure? I was saying that your past doesn’t define you, you know. Everyone whose moved out here, to the middle of fucking nowhere, is trying to escape their past in some way. It’s not exactly a secret.”

“I can’t forget them. Wouldn’t be fair to them,” Sam said. He purposely left out that he wouldn’t ever be able to forget his family, even if he did want to.

“I know. I’m not telling you to forget them. It’s just… You don’t have to make yourself miserable over it. You’ve got a life here, you’ve got people who care about you. You’re allowed to make a new life.”

“When’d you get so wise?” Sam said, chuckling nervously to himself. “I thought I’m supposed to be the old man here.”

“I meant what I said,” you said, resisting the urge to insist again that he wasn’t old, he was only in his 40s.

“I know.”

Sam paused, biting at his lower lip. He did miss the closeness, the comfort of being in a relationship and mutual love. At times, he even craved it so badly it ached, but he couldn’t ever force himself to do anything about it.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “You said everyone here’s try’na escape somethin’. You already know ‘bout me, but what about you? You escapin’?”

It was obvious that Sam was changing the subject, diverting the attention away from him, but you went along with it. After practically interrogating him for so long, it only felt fair to answer honesty.

You replied, “Yeah, but it’s nothing interesting. I just got bored, I guess.” You could feel Sam’s gaze burning into you, with those soft, dark eyes of his. “Same place all the time, same people, same job, same everything. It was… Exhausting. Being that person. Trying to be that person.”

“What person?”

“Someone I’m not. You know, when you feel like you’re putting on a show for someone, even everyone. ‘Cause even if you trust someone, sometimes there’s things they just can’t know about you. They just can’t.”

Sam nodded silently, still listening with intense focus. He knew what you meant, to an extent, even beyond how he kept to himself.

When he was a rodeo rider, that was ninety percent of his job— putting on a show. A very small portion of it was the actual riding, the falling, the thrill of it all. It was almost purely about entertaining others, traveling further and further from your hometown, hearing the crowd cheer your name, lifting you up, and feeling their resounding disappointment when you fell too hard.

There were some things he couldn’t tell you, though, too. One thing in particular.

When he properly registered you looking at him, waiting for a response, he said, “Yeah, I know what you’re gettin’ at. You mentioned you did have someone up there, though, right? You keep in touch with them?”

He hoped you did, for your sake.

“Not really. When I first moved, they reached out a couple times. But, I never picked up the phone, and then they stopped. I know that’s probably cruel, but I just couldn’t. I knew they wanted to know why I left, why I really left, and I couldn’t give that to them,” you admitted, realizing you hadn’t explained to anyone why’d you left until just then, telling Sam.

“You should reach out.”

“So should you,” you pointed out.

Sam grunted, thoughts beginning to blur. “Maybe. But you’re young, you got your whole life ahead of you, you could find someone to talk to, to connect with, fall in love with, get married, all that.”

“I never said it was romantic,” you snapped, sounding more defensive than you’d intended.

“I… I know,” Sam said, and you could’ve sworn he flinched. “‘M just sayin’ you still got plenty of opportunities. Don’t want you endin’ up lonely.” Like him.

“I’m not lonely,” you said, tone softening, becoming more of a whisper than anything.

“That’s good,” Sam said honestly, reaching out to pat your knee. He stopped himself. “You… you mean you’re seein’ someone, or just got some good friends, or? I mean, I hope you got both of those things, you know.”

“Not exactly,” you admitted, “I think I’m— fuck, I think I’m in love, but I don’t think it’s mutual.”

“You never know,” Sam said, even though he was being a hypocrite.

He wasn’t sure he was full-on in love, or convinced himself he wasn’t, but he was more than familiar with the concept of unrequited attraction. It felt like thorns wrapped around his heart, digging into it, with a flower that never seemed to be able to fully bloom before wilting again.

“You… you got anyone?” you tried, even though you knew the answer. You figured that maybe he had someone he was pining after, maybe that widow Bernadette, who he seemed to spend a lot of time with. It pulled at your heart strings to truly consider, but you couldn’t help wanting Sam to be happy, no matter what that looked like.

“What, like a girlfriend?” Sam gave a more genuine laugh that time. “You know the answer to that.”

“Well, yeah, but… Anything? Any person you’ve got some big, secret crush on?”

Sam chuckled again, shaking his head to himself. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Really?” you said, not meaning to show how surprised you were. “I mean, that’s good, I just wasn’t expecting that answer.” You decided to push your luck, and asked, “...Bernadette?”

“Pardon?”

“Is it Bernadette? She seems to be pretty affectionate towards you,” you pressed, trying not to let jealousy creep into your voice.

“Nah. Like you said, it ain’t mutual.”

You couldn’t tell if he was lying or not, but you figured it didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t your place to ask, or to know.

“To two loners, then,” Sam toasted, offering a sad smile, lifting up his container of ice cream.

You clinked containers. To two loners, ice cream, a blunt, and shitty television.

“I’m not lonely,” you blurted out, deciding you’d blame the weed for that.

“Hm? What was that whole spiel about, then?” Sam said, still doing his best to lighten the mood. He was glad you weren’t lonely, even if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Life as a whole kinda sucks, in general, but… I’m not lonely. Not right now. It’s like I told you earlier, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like being around you.”

Sam felt his body tighten, breath catching in his throat. He hadn’t expected you to say that, anything even remotely similar to that. His hands were shaking more than usual, and he was painfully conscious of it. He figured he must’ve looked like a schoolboy with the way he was acting.

“I do,” you repeated, willing Sam to say something, anything at all. You’d been impulsively vulnerable, and some part of you was wishing you wouldn’t suffer the consequences of it.

“You’re out of your mind,” Sam mumbled at last, setting his ice cream down, taking a long drag from the blunt.

“Just… come on. Just… tell me no, if you mean it, just tell me.” You wanted to know what he felt, more than you ever had before. You fucking needed to know.

Inching closer to you, Sam placed a hand on your knee, like he originally meant to. It was a small, seemingly friendly touch, but it spoke volumes.

“Do you love me?” Sam finally asked, his entire body burning up. Even worse, his face and ears were flushed red, and even his hair couldn’t cover it.

It was far too complex of a question to be asking, perhaps inappropriate, but he couldn’t stop himself. For once, he’d said what he was thinking, without waiting. Just like you’d been encouraging him to, ever since you’d gotten to know him.

Faces so close that you could feel his heavy breaths, your lips twitched up as you said, “I think so.” You still couldn’t fully say it, you didn’t want to accept how painfully hard you’d fallen for him.

“Can I kiss you?” Sam asked, moving his other hand to cup your cheek. You’d never realized how large his hands were, how warm they were against your skin.

“Please,” you whispered instantly, not even needing to think before speaking, and his mouth was on yours within moments.

Sam kissed you gently at first, then like he was starving for it, more aggressively and passionately than you’d ever seen him be about anything before. His beard scratched against your skin almost irritatingly, but you were barely paying attention to that. Instead, you were letting him push his tongue between your teeth, leaning into it.

Sam had been yearning for a long time, but he never knew how bad he’d been needing you until he’d finally kissed you. It felt right, perfect, to have you so close to him, hands in his hair and on his bare skin, your pulse throbbing underneath his fingers when he instinctively wrapped a hand around your jaw.

His brain was fuzzy, body humming with energy, purely focused on you being in front of him. For the first time in longer than he could recall, he wasn’t reminiscing about the past, or worrying about the future. In that moment, all that existed to him was you, how much he loved you.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, crooked nose pressing into yours, doing his best to still make eye contact with you.

“I love you,” he murmured. “Meant to say it earlier.”

“Sam,” you exhaled, still in disbelief. You reached out to touch his bare chest, fingertips playing with his necklace.

“‘M not as rusty as I thought, then, huh?” he said, smiling, idly stroking your cheek with one finger.

“You’re a good kisser,” you agreed, then added, “For an old man.”

That had Sam laughing so hard his forehead rocked against yours near painfully, his whole expression softening. You’d never seen him laugh that hard before.

“Wish I knew sooner,” he admitted.

“Me too. But… We’ve still got plenty of time, don’t we?”

Sam pulled away, raised an eyebrow, then said accusingly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He knew exactly what you meant. You’d figured that if you’d already shared “I love you”’s on your first pseudo-date, that wasn’t exactly off-limits.

“I mean, there’s still plenty of time to do whatever things we want. I know you’re a cheesy romantic, I can just tell.”

You weren’t wrong. He was a cheesy romantic, who’d be willing to take you on all sorts of movie-worthy dates and spoil you with affection.

But, he knew what you really wanted, and he wasn’t opposed to it.

“What kinda things?” he said, leaning back in, looking you up and down in a much less proper way than he ever acted.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” you asked, blushing. Mostly, you were just relieved the feeling was mutual— not just romantically.

Sam mumbled something under his breath before hesitantly placing his hand at your waistband, fingertips barely brushing it. Looking at you with big, glittering eyes, he asked, “Please? I’ll… I’ll be good to you, I promise.”

Your stomach knotted, jaw involuntarily clenching. The worst part was that you knew he wasn’t even trying to pull something with that, not any sort of dirty talk, that he was genuinely just begging to touch you.

“If you don’t take me to your bedroom right this minute, I will not hesitate for our first time to be on your couch,” you said frankly, not exaggerating in the slightest.

Sam’s lips parted, his jeans suddenly growing uncomfortably tight. Within seconds, he was on feet, reaching his hand out to take yours.

Sam was good in bed, much better than he’d made himself out to be. Initially, he was nervous, constantly apologizing and insisting that it’d been a while and you could tell him if anything was wrong or didn’t feel good. But, the more you touched him, the longer you drew out the foreplay and focused on his pleasure, the more he unraveled.

He mumbled your name over and over, still repeating that he loved you, groaning softly with every movement. In return, you made sure to praise him the whole time, reassuring him how good he felt, how good he was doing, anything to help him relax. To be fair, you did mean every word you said.

Afterwards, he cuddled up to you, head on your chest, touching you wherever he could reach. You were idly playing with his hair, running your hands through it again and again.

“I never knew your hair’s curly,” you said, subconsciously wishing he kept it that way in public.

“Mm, it gets annoying. Messy.”

“I like it. It’s cute,” you said, and felt Sam’s body shake as he chuckled against you.

“Cute, huh?”

“Yeah, cute.”

“No one’s ever called me that before. I mean look at me, I ain’t…” he threw his hands in the air, trailing off.

You stopped yourself from showering him with compliments, deciding you wouldn’t embarrass yourself another time that night.

“I think so,” you said simply. “You were good, y’know, I wasn’t just saying that. You were really fucking good.”

Sam blushed again, turning his head to the side as if that would hide it. Too flustered to thank you, he admitted, “I needed that. Needed you.”

If he kept talking like that, you were going to need to go for another round. Well, you didn’t not want to already, but you knew that’d be pushing your luck.

You were already pushing your luck by staying there so long, with the postcoital cuddling and tender words. It’d been a long time since you’d had sex, even longer since you’d been that affectionate with someone.

Furthermore, you knew Sam valued his alone time, that he’d probably need his space after being so social. You’d been at his place for a while, surely tested his limits with the entire situation.

“I can leave,” you whispered, after a long period of silence. You didn’t say that you wanted to leave, that you should leave. You had nowhere to be, no one else to be with.

You shifted, beginning to get up, but Sam grabbed your wrist before you could properly leave the bed. For a moment, his grip was so tight it hurt, but it loosened as soon as he saw you grimace.

“Stay?” he asked, voice cracking. His eyes were so wide that he almost looked scared.

“Yeah,” you agreed easily, sidling back up to him, “I can stay.”

You fell asleep facing each other, arms and legs entangled, both getting the best sleep you’d gotten in a long, long time.

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