The Strength of One's Convictions
Jul. 3rd, 2014 06:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
takingthechance"Someone to see you." The desk sergeant is a lovely fellow, and doesn't tease when he finds her parking the car after taking Mr. Peterson to the local hotel. She hurries, afraid that it's someone to tell her bad news about family - why else come in person, after all?
Instead she finds Tony waiting nervously in the lobby, his broad honest face a study of anxiety and hope. He positively lights up when she peeks around the swinging doors.
"Tony?" Sam hisses, moving quickly to pull him further away from the sergeant's station. "What are you doing here?"
"I had to see you again, and..." She cuts him off, pulling him further aside. No one seems to be paying any attention to them, but he really could get her into a lot of trouble.
"Not here," She tries to talk over him, but it seems once the words have started, it's very little use trying to dam them up again.
"...I had to talk to you..."
"You're going to get me shot!" Not even hyperbole works - he keeps right on.
"It's just, I had such a great night last night... and you enjoyed it too." Well. There's not much to say to that, so she ducks her head, and he goes on in what is clearly a pre-prepared speech. There's a pleading, almost-desperate tone in his voice she can't ignore, no matter how much she tells herself that she ought to cut him off, tell him thanks, but no thanks. There's no way this is going to go anywhere. He is, however, terribly sweet, and she can't see the harm in it.
"Well... I finish up at six. I'll meet you outside?"
"Six." That shy smile that lights up his face appears again, and she can't help but laugh, shooing him off before he can find something else to ask for. He's still not her type, but... well. It's not really so bad to have someone want to see you that much.
*****************************************************************************
They walk along the river, the warm summer sun somehow incongruous with their conversation - it turns out Tony's gone and joined up, which is marvelous of course. She tells him so, but it doesn't seem to cheer him at all. He seems convinced his father won't approve, which... Well, Sam's not entirely sure she understands that, really, there's not going to be much choice for much longer. No choice at all if they really are invaded, like more people are saying they will be by the day.
The saddest part, though, is when he finally gets around to asking what it is he really wants. He just wants someone to be thinking about him.
"But the thing is, when I think about fightin', and shootin', and all the rest of it, I really get the heevies, you know? I'm scared. And the other thing is... look I shouldn't be sayin' this but... I've never really had a girlfriend, not a real one. And I wish... it would be easier if there was someone I could write to, someone, who could write to me... you know? I shouldn't even ask, I barely even know you." He starts in on the apologies after a moment of waiting for an answer, the whole thing delivered in a worried, mournful tone.
I would think it awful lonely, to not be attached to anyone.
There's really only one answer she can give him, once she knows what he's after, and knowing her own feelings on the matter.
"Of course I'll write to you, Tony. I'll even send you cigarettes and socks, if you like. Keep the home fires burning." He looks absolutely stunned, and perhaps it's that look, or the memory of someone else, that prompts her to lean over and kiss him. It's hardly a proper kiss, Tony is too surprised to do much more than sit there and blink at her like she's some sort of creature out of a fairy tale.
That's reward enough, she supposes.
Instead she finds Tony waiting nervously in the lobby, his broad honest face a study of anxiety and hope. He positively lights up when she peeks around the swinging doors.
"Tony?" Sam hisses, moving quickly to pull him further away from the sergeant's station. "What are you doing here?"
"I had to see you again, and..." She cuts him off, pulling him further aside. No one seems to be paying any attention to them, but he really could get her into a lot of trouble.
"Not here," She tries to talk over him, but it seems once the words have started, it's very little use trying to dam them up again.
"...I had to talk to you..."
"You're going to get me shot!" Not even hyperbole works - he keeps right on.
"It's just, I had such a great night last night... and you enjoyed it too." Well. There's not much to say to that, so she ducks her head, and he goes on in what is clearly a pre-prepared speech. There's a pleading, almost-desperate tone in his voice she can't ignore, no matter how much she tells herself that she ought to cut him off, tell him thanks, but no thanks. There's no way this is going to go anywhere. He is, however, terribly sweet, and she can't see the harm in it.
"Well... I finish up at six. I'll meet you outside?"
"Six." That shy smile that lights up his face appears again, and she can't help but laugh, shooing him off before he can find something else to ask for. He's still not her type, but... well. It's not really so bad to have someone want to see you that much.
*****************************************************************************
They walk along the river, the warm summer sun somehow incongruous with their conversation - it turns out Tony's gone and joined up, which is marvelous of course. She tells him so, but it doesn't seem to cheer him at all. He seems convinced his father won't approve, which... Well, Sam's not entirely sure she understands that, really, there's not going to be much choice for much longer. No choice at all if they really are invaded, like more people are saying they will be by the day.
The saddest part, though, is when he finally gets around to asking what it is he really wants. He just wants someone to be thinking about him.
"But the thing is, when I think about fightin', and shootin', and all the rest of it, I really get the heevies, you know? I'm scared. And the other thing is... look I shouldn't be sayin' this but... I've never really had a girlfriend, not a real one. And I wish... it would be easier if there was someone I could write to, someone, who could write to me... you know? I shouldn't even ask, I barely even know you." He starts in on the apologies after a moment of waiting for an answer, the whole thing delivered in a worried, mournful tone.
I would think it awful lonely, to not be attached to anyone.
There's really only one answer she can give him, once she knows what he's after, and knowing her own feelings on the matter.
"Of course I'll write to you, Tony. I'll even send you cigarettes and socks, if you like. Keep the home fires burning." He looks absolutely stunned, and perhaps it's that look, or the memory of someone else, that prompts her to lean over and kiss him. It's hardly a proper kiss, Tony is too surprised to do much more than sit there and blink at her like she's some sort of creature out of a fairy tale.
That's reward enough, she supposes.
