Generally when people leave him notes, it's for special orders, alterations to orders, cancellations, that sort of thing. Never is it a personal message informing him of some apparently alarming new development in the village. A moment to parse what's actually going on, and he snorts a quiet laugh.
If John isn't hanging around the rebuilt cabin, he'll find a note of his own in his P.O. box in return.
[John finds the note when he gets home later--and then he does decide to go out to the cabin to look for Sam, hoping to find him. If not there, then somewhere after work hours--and when he does, he just walks up to him without preamble...]
He's a little prick's what he is.
[...yes, there may be a little bit of double entendre there. Yes, he's kinda cranky. No, he doesn't really mean it. But you are his boyfriend buddy, Sam, and you are therefore legally obligated to put up with his bitching. Or...something.]
Sam is working on setting up a fence around the clearing denoting what is ostensibly his property, while Lou is bundled up safe and warm inside the finished cabin. He twists in place to see John marching up on a mission and...
"Wh- oh, did he try to lay the smooth talk on you too?"
And the panic was instant because John didn’t see him coming. And he fell right back on reflex, and that bugs his shit because he’s trying to be better after their talk during the holidays. Be more than just a soldier…
…but mostly the panic. Which would probably be trying to choke him again if he was anywhere else but the quiet, serene woods with Sam’s steady presence blanketing him and blessedly familiar squint peering at him over his shoulder.
“…I didn’t pull a weapon?” He finally concedes, shrugging as he trudges up to Sam and pauses in his personal space without touching—a brief concession to a hug or a handshake of greeting—before he moves away to help Sam with the piece of fencing he’s working with.
Sam is quiet as he turns that over, then simply nods. Sometimes you just can't help the trauma kneejerk.
"Considering you always got somethin' on you, I think that means you're doin' pretty good," he points out, looking up at where John stands over him, before moving his hands from the fence to let the man steady it while he nails the cross plank in place.
John is smiling under the praise, and coming from Sam it is praise.
Is it weird to be smiling? Does he care if it's weird?...
The questions just make him smile more, because the nervousness it comes from...he likes it, he's decided. It's been so long since feeling any type of fear felt so good. It feels great, having something to lose.
"So you know the guy?" John asks after a silent few seconds of discreet preening at Sam's praise. "Is he a friend, or have you done business, or...I dunno, both?"
It's said without judgment or hesitation. He visited a whore or two during the war, and yeah, maybe the idea hits John with a wrenching stab of longing, but it doesn't hurt. If Sam's found any way to be less lonely in a way that doesn't hurt or scare him, it's good, no matter how much he wants it for himself.
To maybe be that person someday. What's good for Sam trumps what John might want, and it always will.
Even if it isn't specifically praise, it is Sam acknowledging that John not immediately drawing a weapon on someone that startled him is a good direction to be going in. It means, at least to Sam, that John is chilling out a little bit. He needs more people with chill in his life.
After wiggling the fence to make sure it's steady, Sam crab-scoots his way along to the next post and starts on it, waiting for John to follow suit.
"Met him the day after I arrived. I was sittin' around taking in the view and he came up offerin' help and gave me the sales pitch. Told 'im it wasn't really my thing and he was nice about it at least. Last time I saw him in person, it was the nightmare thing..." He frowns some at that, reaching down for a nail from his dwindling collection (the missing ones are almost certainly in Bobbin's loot box) and popping it in between his lips as he nudges the boards straight and hammers them into place.
"Filled the guy with knives. Felt real fuckin' bad, man."
John knows better than to say it out loud as he follows Sam to hold the next board steady for him. He's pretty sure he'll get flak if he does make a remark like that out loud, but the way it feels...it's different than any of his reflexes. It's not the automatic responses riven into his psyche by his training. It burns, hot and sharp--a papercut sliced across his heart, the idea that someone hurt Sam even when they didn't mean to.
It's not John the soldier. It's...just John.
Still, he keeps it in his head as he considers the rest, given that...
"He, uh--he gave me the pitch, too." he admits, hesitating over how Sam said it went for him. He's not sure about asking, not when...well, they've said enough, haven't they? They haven't really talked about it, though...
"Did you turn him down 'cause of your problem with being touched?" he asks softly, focusing a little too hard on the board he's holding. "Or 'cause you don't like guys?"
He has to roll his shoulders as he says it so he doesn't flinch, heart pinched tight in his chest. This he's done before, albeit more discreetly--a subtle question to Delmar about having someone back home, him talking about his wife with that big, patient smile...
"I'm a good listener, Johnny--and I love your bitch ass, God help me. Just love ya man to man, you feel me? If that's cool, I'm cool, just...careful 'round the boys, y'know?"
He had nothing to lose then, and gained his best friend. This...he's got more to lose asking, here and now...
For better or worse, he and Erik had a loose sort of truce. He doesn't treat the guy any different than how he'd treat anyone else he'd meet in his day-to-day, and in return, Erik doesn't flirt or try to ply his services on Sam. He doesn't know the extent of Sam's phobia, very few people in the village do, but it's becoming more common knowledge all the time that Sam can't stand being touched. He only put up with it from the most elderly on his route and even then, he never reciprocates even a handshake.
The way John words his questions, cautious and trying so hard not to offend, makes Sam really earnestly think about how he wants to respond. Immediately he's assaulted by the memory of a nose sniffing right against his face, a tongue running up his cheek. A taunting voice in his ear claiming that the end of everything was right in front of them. He can't help but shudder.
"It's...thing is," he starts slowly, carefully, "I wasn't even good at this stuff when it was me n' Lucy. Before the DOOMS fucked up everything. Got worse after... Then, only people that ever touched me were this asshole that didn't know what personal space was, n' Fragile. Best friend," he explains, eyes trained just as hard on the wood grain in front of him. "Never have thought about the rest, before now." Before you. "Been alone for a long time. 's my own damn fault."
Before now. Not before. Not ever—and fuck, there’s that paper cut of rage again. Just one, there’s a softness in his tone when he says that name, Fragile. Hearing that tone reminds him of Delmar all over again.
Before now.
“So…what if you did?” He asks after a quiet moment, letting himself look at Sam again. “Think about it, I mean?”
He swallows thickly around the sudden knot of crippling fucking hope lodged in his throat.
Sam is quiet. It's his natural state of being. He's stopped working on the fence, simply staying crouched with his hammer in his hand, thinking. Watching nothing in particular.
John can’t breathe for a second around that hope—as it expands and fucking explodes, drowning him in pure light.
No touch he’s ever felt has ever been like this.
Abandoning the fence for a moment, John shifts to crouch beside Sam. The world is too sharp and wobbly, tears burning in his eyes with something hot and sweet that he can’t bear to name for fear it’ll leave him.
John doesn’t know how to explain just how much Sam has given him with that single sentence. A confession to him, maybe, but to John it’s more potential for something precious than he’s ever had in his life. It’s knowing he’s not alone, knowing there’s a place he might fit and that’s more than he’s ever had. It’s potential, and John has never even come close to that before.
Not when it comes to being happy. Not when it comes to maybe, just maybe, being…
“All I want’s a door, Sam.” He finally confesses softly. “You can keep it closed, locked, barricaded…or you can leave it open so I can wait. Just…look in. Be close to you, know you’re okay. And I won’t walk through it unless you ask me to. If there’s a door—even a locked one—I’ll never be disappointed.”
"Door's there. Door's been there," Sam admits, only just on the edge of hearing. "Whether I realized it or not. 'cuz you've been good to me, John Rambo. Me n' the kid both."
John already has more of a foot in that proverbial door than he even realizes. Sam just doesn't know what to do with it yet. He doesn't want anything physical, he hasn't for a long time, not since his life and his little family was destroyed in an instant. He's sure that this is exacerbating the damage already done by the chiral exposure and making the phobia present more dramatically on his skin. But he knows he trusts John not to do anything more than this. He trusts the man implicitly.
He looks back at John, brow knitted, eyes less narrowed with the passing of clouds over the clear sky. Again it reveals that soft grey-blue of his eyes that reflect the colors of the world around him. "I can't make you promises, can't say anything one way or the other what I want anymore. I'm not gonna be like, you n' me, that's endgame. What I can do, here n' now, is keep bein' here. Keep talkin' with you. Just keep doin' what we are already."
“Then that’s good enough for me.” John assures him quietly, honestly, drawing the deepest, freest breath he’s taken in a long time. “That door—it’s the only promise I want. It’s the only one I’ll ever ask for. Open, closed, locked…whatever you feel you can give, you make the call. It’s…more than I could have hoped for. But…”
He smiles softly, and lifts his hand, palm up and open in invitation.
“There’s no door on my side. No walls, no boundaries. Maybe I build some down the line if I feel a need—but I don’t right now. Anything you want from me, Sam? You take it. Whenever you feel like it. No limits—and no quid pro quo, I’m not offering anything I ever expect to get back. This open hand is gonna sit here forever, even if you never wanna reach for it.”
He lets his hand drop, and he’s still smiling.
“I just…I want you. If that’s okay? That’s the only endgame I need.”
That hand hangs in the air just long enough that Sam very seriously considers taking it. But he doesn't move. There's just too much that holds him back, holds him still. So he lets the gesture be as it is, and accepts the words, always so carefully put out there to make sure that he was comfortable.
"Ain't a damn thing I need from you that you don't already give of your own volition. You already go so far outta your way for us. I'd never ask more of you than that. Well, 'cept maybe you holdin' that board straight," he jokes halfheartedly, shielding himself from the vulnerability with the humor that those that came before John had never really tolerated from him.
So he goes back to hammering, using the task at hand as a way to distract himself and turn over his thoughts. The silence is only broken by the sound of planks being nailed together for a long while, the breeze and the rustle of the dead leaves, birdsong here and there, until Sam says thoughtfully, "y'know, never pegged you soldier types for...y'know. Got shit for gay-dar I guess."
The wisecrack gets a laugh and a joking salute as John rises from his crouch to hold the next board for Sam. For a little bit, it’s just that…and despite diffusing the intensity of the situation, everything still feels heavy somehow—and John feels more relaxed than he has in years.
Then he comes at him with that observation and John is grinning again.
“Nah, you’re fine—I’m just not gay. Not really.” He admits. “I mean…long as I can remember, I’ve always liked everything. Guys and girls both, I mean—but back where I come from? You…y’know…you can’t. So I just kept that shit quiet. Wasn’t even sure it was a thing till I got here. Thought I was just messed up in the head—that it was just me.”
Sam makes a soft, thoughtful sound as he wiggles the board as soon as it's secured in place to make sure that it's set firm there.
"Knew a guy like that, before. His name was John too actually. We all called 'im Die-Hardman though. Codename, kinda thing. Guy loved his commanding officer enough to betray the president for him. When she died he was talkin' about how he loved her too though. Dunno if it was the same but it kinda makes sense. You do some stupid shit for love, doesn't matter what you're battin' for."
That gets a raised eyebrow from John--but he does get it, after a fashion.
These days, he knows better.
"I was prolly like that when I was younger." he admits. "But I got smart--starting to realize that's why they weren't big on us getting too attached in training. Love makes people stupid, but if you can be smart when you love someone...you're fucking dangerous. That's when reactions, gut-check shit? It all becomes choices."
Not following orders. Not relying on training alone. Not responding without thinking.
Real loyalty. Real dedication. And speaking of love...
"How long you been at this?" John finally asks before Sam can move on to the next board. "C'mon, food and water. And munchkin if she's not off with one of her other boyfriends 'n girlfriends."
Meaning, of course, the babysitting brigade--look, Sam, your kid is adorable and John wants to hug the baby...
Sam is quiet as he listens, but he nods. He'd done enough stupid shit for the people that he cared about that he can't exactly get on his own high horse and claim that he was any better. He chose to give Fragile the killing blow. He chose to go to Heartman. He chose to claim Lou, to treat her like the child she was.
Given the time, he would have run away with her, rather than ever letting her be sent to the furnace.
"Since this morning," he replies quietly, happy to continue on with the work and get away from the heavier talk. "Figure if I get this done before spring, she'll be startin' to learn how to walk, n' I'd be able to let her hang around out here without bein' carried everywhere."
When the last post is secure though, he stands and swipes his hands across the seat of his trousers before leading the way inside. Lou is sleeping in a little secondhand bassinet just close enough to the window that she can see the sky. Hanging from a flexible branch secured by red twine, a windmill turns gently over her in the breeze let in from the open door.
"You know there ain't much," he points out. He's feeling the lack of food, though maybe not as acutely as most. He reaches into his little pantry for a jar of preserves, sent off with him by one of the old women on his route.
"I'll set a few more traps--and I'll bring by some of my catch." John assures him--and forestalls any argument with a raised hand.
"Try me, and I'll just leave it on your doorstep--or donate it to the communal pot in town that Palmer guy's got goin'. If you don't eat it, I won't eat it. Period."
Lowering his hand with a small smile, he crosses over to Lou's bassinet and leans over to just watch her for a second.
"Hey, princess." he whispers, barely audible as he reaches in to gently tuck her in a little more securely in, just hitching up her blankets a little. "You have extra good dreams for me, 'kay? Wanna see lots of smiles from my favorite girl when you wake up..."
Sam swipes at the hand, coming so close to making contact.
"Donate it to the pot, man. You know those people could use it a hell of a lot more than I can. If you have too much for them in a day then I'll take the rest, but they come first, and that, you're not allowed to argue with."
Sam lingers just inside, his arms crossing as he watches John approaching where Lou is sleeping in the froggy pajamas she'd been gifted. She's warm, safe, and barely reacts to John fussing that little bit over her. There's a softness to the man that only comes out when he's around the two of them, and them alone. Everyone else seems to cause him to tense up, like he's afraid of what they might do. It's heartbreaking on a deeply personal level.
"Don't go too far out of your way though, huh? Shit's gettin' weird lately." Well, weirder than usual.
The swipe just makes John grin, as does the admonishment.
"M' already helping the Palmer kid with the soup pot." he admits softly, so as not to wake Lou. "He hit me up after one of my rounds on the snares--taught him how to clean and dress game. Still think I'm gonna do it for him before I bring another batch around."
Kid's eager and friendly...but John's still not sure about putting a knife in his hand yet without decent supervision.
"As for goin' out of my way...you're not out of my way." he goes on, looking up from Lou and at Sam--and for the first time, he doesn't try to compose himself. The swell of affection he lets himself feel shows in his eyes.
You are my way. He wants to say it, but it's too much. Especially today--so he just looks down at Lou again and watches her eyes blink open. She focuses on him, coos happily--and as she blinks her eyes closed again, makes John laugh at how readily she just goes back to sleep once she's given him a drowsy little greeting.
"Surprised he was willing to learn how. He seems more the desk job type," Sam notes with a touch of amusement. "Probably better to do it for him, yeah. Maybe teach him how to do it with fish later, 's a little less involved."
John looks back at him after Lou has made herself comfortable in her bed again, and Sam...he can see it. He sees that look, that tenderness. He realizes that it's not just meant for her. It's a strange, somewhat terrifying thought, but not, perhaps, for reasons that John will fully understand if he tries to explain.
He looks back out at the snow, falling just fast enough to start really covering the ground out there and fill in the tracks coming up the path. He'd have to see about some form of paving leading down, when this first project is done... "You goin' back out there? Or you figure you wanna hang around a while, help me finish up the fence? Goes faster with two sets of hands."
John raises an eyebrow with a grin at Sam's assessment. "Hey, yeah--s' a good idea. I'll go with that, thanks."
The question--before, it would have given John pause. Now, looking at Sam, looking freely and knowing it's okay...he really doesn't have to think about it.
"You want me, you got me. I'd prefer to stay." he assures him. "Working or no...I like being here with you guys."
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winterfish
sealed, handwritten note left for Sam at the post office next time he reports in
Date: 2024-01-08 10:02 pm (UTC)[And yes, if Sam spots John during the course of his day, he's some hue of blushing, from tomato red to just pink, based on the time.]
no subject
Date: 2024-01-12 12:22 am (UTC)If John isn't hanging around the rebuilt cabin, he'll find a note of his own in his P.O. box in return.
yeah seems like erik is feeling better
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Date: 2024-01-12 07:28 pm (UTC)He's a little prick's what he is.
[...yes, there may be a little bit of double entendre there. Yes, he's kinda cranky. No, he doesn't really mean it. But you are his
boyfriendbuddy, Sam, and you are therefore legally obligated to put up with his bitching. Or...something.]no subject
Date: 2024-01-13 04:44 pm (UTC)"Wh- oh, did he try to lay the smooth talk on you too?"
no subject
Date: 2024-01-13 05:04 pm (UTC)And the panic was instant because John didn’t see him coming. And he fell right back on reflex, and that bugs his shit because he’s trying to be better after their talk during the holidays. Be more than just a soldier…
…but mostly the panic. Which would probably be trying to choke him again if he was anywhere else but the quiet, serene woods with Sam’s steady presence blanketing him and blessedly familiar squint peering at him over his shoulder.
“…I didn’t pull a weapon?” He finally concedes, shrugging as he trudges up to Sam and pauses in his personal space without touching—a brief concession to a hug or a handshake of greeting—before he moves away to help Sam with the piece of fencing he’s working with.
no subject
Date: 2024-01-17 10:16 pm (UTC)"Considering you always got somethin' on you, I think that means you're doin' pretty good," he points out, looking up at where John stands over him, before moving his hands from the fence to let the man steady it while he nails the cross plank in place.
no subject
Date: 2024-01-18 06:53 pm (UTC)Is it weird to be smiling? Does he care if it's weird?...
The questions just make him smile more, because the nervousness it comes from...he likes it, he's decided. It's been so long since feeling any type of fear felt so good. It feels great, having something to lose.
"So you know the guy?" John asks after a silent few seconds of discreet preening at Sam's praise. "Is he a friend, or have you done business, or...I dunno, both?"
It's said without judgment or hesitation. He visited a whore or two during the war, and yeah, maybe the idea hits John with a wrenching stab of longing, but it doesn't hurt. If Sam's found any way to be less lonely in a way that doesn't hurt or scare him, it's good, no matter how much he wants it for himself.
To maybe be that person someday. What's good for Sam trumps what John might want, and it always will.
no subject
Date: 2024-01-19 02:47 pm (UTC)After wiggling the fence to make sure it's steady, Sam crab-scoots his way along to the next post and starts on it, waiting for John to follow suit.
"Met him the day after I arrived. I was sittin' around taking in the view and he came up offerin' help and gave me the sales pitch. Told 'im it wasn't really my thing and he was nice about it at least. Last time I saw him in person, it was the nightmare thing..." He frowns some at that, reaching down for a nail from his dwindling collection (the missing ones are almost certainly in Bobbin's loot box) and popping it in between his lips as he nudges the boards straight and hammers them into place.
"Filled the guy with knives. Felt real fuckin' bad, man."
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Date: 2024-01-23 10:41 pm (UTC)John knows better than to say it out loud as he follows Sam to hold the next board steady for him. He's pretty sure he'll get flak if he does make a remark like that out loud, but the way it feels...it's different than any of his reflexes. It's not the automatic responses riven into his psyche by his training. It burns, hot and sharp--a papercut sliced across his heart, the idea that someone hurt Sam even when they didn't mean to.
It's not John the soldier. It's...just John.
Still, he keeps it in his head as he considers the rest, given that...
"He, uh--he gave me the pitch, too." he admits, hesitating over how Sam said it went for him. He's not sure about asking, not when...well, they've said enough, haven't they? They haven't really talked about it, though...
"Did you turn him down 'cause of your problem with being touched?" he asks softly, focusing a little too hard on the board he's holding. "Or 'cause you don't like guys?"
He has to roll his shoulders as he says it so he doesn't flinch, heart pinched tight in his chest. This he's done before, albeit more discreetly--a subtle question to Delmar about having someone back home, him talking about his wife with that big, patient smile...
"I'm a good listener, Johnny--and I love your bitch ass, God help me. Just love ya man to man, you feel me? If that's cool, I'm cool, just...careful 'round the boys, y'know?"
He had nothing to lose then, and gained his best friend. This...he's got more to lose asking, here and now...
no subject
Date: 2024-01-23 11:15 pm (UTC)The way John words his questions, cautious and trying so hard not to offend, makes Sam really earnestly think about how he wants to respond. Immediately he's assaulted by the memory of a nose sniffing right against his face, a tongue running up his cheek. A taunting voice in his ear claiming that the end of everything was right in front of them. He can't help but shudder.
"It's...thing is," he starts slowly, carefully, "I wasn't even good at this stuff when it was me n' Lucy. Before the DOOMS fucked up everything. Got worse after... Then, only people that ever touched me were this asshole that didn't know what personal space was, n' Fragile. Best friend," he explains, eyes trained just as hard on the wood grain in front of him. "Never have thought about the rest, before now." Before you. "Been alone for a long time. 's my own damn fault."
You ran away. You cut us off.
no subject
Date: 2024-01-23 11:27 pm (UTC)Before now.
“So…what if you did?” He asks after a quiet moment, letting himself look at Sam again. “Think about it, I mean?”
He swallows thickly around the sudden knot of crippling fucking hope lodged in his throat.
“You ‘n me?”
no subject
Date: 2024-01-24 12:38 am (UTC)"Pretty sure I'm just gonna disappoint you too."
no subject
Date: 2024-01-24 01:08 am (UTC)No touch he’s ever felt has ever been like this.
Abandoning the fence for a moment, John shifts to crouch beside Sam. The world is too sharp and wobbly, tears burning in his eyes with something hot and sweet that he can’t bear to name for fear it’ll leave him.
John doesn’t know how to explain just how much Sam has given him with that single sentence. A confession to him, maybe, but to John it’s more potential for something precious than he’s ever had in his life. It’s knowing he’s not alone, knowing there’s a place he might fit and that’s more than he’s ever had. It’s potential, and John has never even come close to that before.
Not when it comes to being happy. Not when it comes to maybe, just maybe, being…
“All I want’s a door, Sam.” He finally confesses softly. “You can keep it closed, locked, barricaded…or you can leave it open so I can wait. Just…look in. Be close to you, know you’re okay. And I won’t walk through it unless you ask me to. If there’s a door—even a locked one—I’ll never be disappointed.”
no subject
Date: 2024-01-24 11:02 pm (UTC)John already has more of a foot in that proverbial door than he even realizes. Sam just doesn't know what to do with it yet. He doesn't want anything physical, he hasn't for a long time, not since his life and his little family was destroyed in an instant. He's sure that this is exacerbating the damage already done by the chiral exposure and making the phobia present more dramatically on his skin. But he knows he trusts John not to do anything more than this. He trusts the man implicitly.
He looks back at John, brow knitted, eyes less narrowed with the passing of clouds over the clear sky. Again it reveals that soft grey-blue of his eyes that reflect the colors of the world around him. "I can't make you promises, can't say anything one way or the other what I want anymore. I'm not gonna be like, you n' me, that's endgame. What I can do, here n' now, is keep bein' here. Keep talkin' with you. Just keep doin' what we are already."
no subject
Date: 2024-01-24 11:47 pm (UTC)He smiles softly, and lifts his hand, palm up and open in invitation.
“There’s no door on my side. No walls, no boundaries. Maybe I build some down the line if I feel a need—but I don’t right now. Anything you want from me, Sam? You take it. Whenever you feel like it. No limits—and no quid pro quo, I’m not offering anything I ever expect to get back. This open hand is gonna sit here forever, even if you never wanna reach for it.”
He lets his hand drop, and he’s still smiling.
“I just…I want you. If that’s okay? That’s the only endgame I need.”
no subject
Date: 2024-01-26 04:43 am (UTC)"Ain't a damn thing I need from you that you don't already give of your own volition. You already go so far outta your way for us. I'd never ask more of you than that. Well, 'cept maybe you holdin' that board straight," he jokes halfheartedly, shielding himself from the vulnerability with the humor that those that came before John had never really tolerated from him.
So he goes back to hammering, using the task at hand as a way to distract himself and turn over his thoughts. The silence is only broken by the sound of planks being nailed together for a long while, the breeze and the rustle of the dead leaves, birdsong here and there, until Sam says thoughtfully, "y'know, never pegged you soldier types for...y'know. Got shit for gay-dar I guess."
no subject
Date: 2024-01-26 05:02 am (UTC)Then he comes at him with that observation and John is grinning again.
“Nah, you’re fine—I’m just not gay. Not really.” He admits. “I mean…long as I can remember, I’ve always liked everything. Guys and girls both, I mean—but back where I come from? You…y’know…you can’t. So I just kept that shit quiet. Wasn’t even sure it was a thing till I got here. Thought I was just messed up in the head—that it was just me.”
no subject
Date: 2024-01-26 07:54 pm (UTC)"Knew a guy like that, before. His name was John too actually. We all called 'im Die-Hardman though. Codename, kinda thing. Guy loved his commanding officer enough to betray the president for him. When she died he was talkin' about how he loved her too though. Dunno if it was the same but it kinda makes sense. You do some stupid shit for love, doesn't matter what you're battin' for."
no subject
Date: 2024-01-26 08:20 pm (UTC)These days, he knows better.
"I was prolly like that when I was younger." he admits. "But I got smart--starting to realize that's why they weren't big on us getting too attached in training. Love makes people stupid, but if you can be smart when you love someone...you're fucking dangerous. That's when reactions, gut-check shit? It all becomes choices."
Not following orders. Not relying on training alone. Not responding without thinking.
Real loyalty. Real dedication. And speaking of love...
"How long you been at this?" John finally asks before Sam can move on to the next board. "C'mon, food and water. And munchkin if she's not off with one of her other boyfriends 'n girlfriends."
Meaning, of course, the babysitting brigade--look, Sam, your kid is adorable and John wants to hug the baby...
no subject
Date: 2024-01-27 01:40 pm (UTC)Given the time, he would have run away with her, rather than ever letting her be sent to the furnace.
"Since this morning," he replies quietly, happy to continue on with the work and get away from the heavier talk. "Figure if I get this done before spring, she'll be startin' to learn how to walk, n' I'd be able to let her hang around out here without bein' carried everywhere."
When the last post is secure though, he stands and swipes his hands across the seat of his trousers before leading the way inside. Lou is sleeping in a little secondhand bassinet just close enough to the window that she can see the sky. Hanging from a flexible branch secured by red twine, a windmill turns gently over her in the breeze let in from the open door.
"You know there ain't much," he points out. He's feeling the lack of food, though maybe not as acutely as most. He reaches into his little pantry for a jar of preserves, sent off with him by one of the old women on his route.
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Date: 2024-01-31 09:49 pm (UTC)"Try me, and I'll just leave it on your doorstep--or donate it to the communal pot in town that Palmer guy's got goin'. If you don't eat it, I won't eat it. Period."
Lowering his hand with a small smile, he crosses over to Lou's bassinet and leans over to just watch her for a second.
"Hey, princess." he whispers, barely audible as he reaches in to gently tuck her in a little more securely in, just hitching up her blankets a little. "You have extra good dreams for me, 'kay? Wanna see lots of smiles from my favorite girl when you wake up..."
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Date: 2024-02-02 03:35 am (UTC)"Donate it to the pot, man. You know those people could use it a hell of a lot more than I can. If you have too much for them in a day then I'll take the rest, but they come first, and that, you're not allowed to argue with."
Sam lingers just inside, his arms crossing as he watches John approaching where Lou is sleeping in the froggy pajamas she'd been gifted. She's warm, safe, and barely reacts to John fussing that little bit over her. There's a softness to the man that only comes out when he's around the two of them, and them alone. Everyone else seems to cause him to tense up, like he's afraid of what they might do. It's heartbreaking on a deeply personal level.
"Don't go too far out of your way though, huh? Shit's gettin' weird lately." Well, weirder than usual.
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Date: 2024-02-02 06:37 pm (UTC)"M' already helping the Palmer kid with the soup pot." he admits softly, so as not to wake Lou. "He hit me up after one of my rounds on the snares--taught him how to clean and dress game. Still think I'm gonna do it for him before I bring another batch around."
Kid's eager and friendly...but John's still not sure about putting a knife in his hand yet without decent supervision.
"As for goin' out of my way...you're not out of my way." he goes on, looking up from Lou and at Sam--and for the first time, he doesn't try to compose himself. The swell of affection he lets himself feel shows in his eyes.
You are my way. He wants to say it, but it's too much. Especially today--so he just looks down at Lou again and watches her eyes blink open. She focuses on him, coos happily--and as she blinks her eyes closed again, makes John laugh at how readily she just goes back to sleep once she's given him a drowsy little greeting.
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Date: 2024-02-07 02:26 pm (UTC)John looks back at him after Lou has made herself comfortable in her bed again, and Sam...he can see it. He sees that look, that tenderness. He realizes that it's not just meant for her. It's a strange, somewhat terrifying thought, but not, perhaps, for reasons that John will fully understand if he tries to explain.
He looks back out at the snow, falling just fast enough to start really covering the ground out there and fill in the tracks coming up the path. He'd have to see about some form of paving leading down, when this first project is done... "You goin' back out there? Or you figure you wanna hang around a while, help me finish up the fence? Goes faster with two sets of hands."
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Date: 2024-02-07 07:54 pm (UTC)The question--before, it would have given John pause. Now, looking at Sam, looking freely and knowing it's okay...he really doesn't have to think about it.
"You want me, you got me. I'd prefer to stay." he assures him. "Working or no...I like being here with you guys."
no subject
Date: 2024-02-09 09:50 pm (UTC)