#sam is building an aircraft model btw

[straight-to-the-pain]

Okay this might be a weird request but would you be able to write question 7 off that prompt list as grumpy caretaker John saying it to Sam after they maybe take something too far? Personally I thought it could be a visit to Maia that got a bit out of hand for Sam’s safety without them realizing, but you do whatever is most realistic for your characters :)

I’m sorry I didn’t quite fill the prompt (even though I think it would definitely happen, because Sam can only hide what they do for so long) but I did write something close to it, so I hope this fulfils what you wanted, at least partially. The prompt was “After that stunt you pulled?” from a list by @cynicalwhump.

There's a knock at the door, then another, and only then does it finally open. John stands in the doorway, holding a bag in front of him, like an offering.

"May I come in?" he asks with a smile, polite as always.

"Sure, yeah," comes the reply. Sam blinks up at him with a surprised sort of expression on their face, like they had forgotten that the world existed beyond their tiny flat. "What uh, what time is it?" they ask, brushing stray curls out of their eyes.

"It's ten. In the evening," John replies, as if the darkening sky outside leaves any room for questions. "I've been trying to get in touch all evening. I made dinner. Didn't have anyone to share it with." He steps inside, heading towards the kitchen. It's empty, predictably.

"Sorry. I got,, caught up." Sam looks down at the floor, not quite meeting John's eye. "Nothing bad," they add, a little too quickly, before their friend can fill in the gaps with anything too unsavoury. "I was just making a model, that's all. Lost track of time."

John looks them up and down, checking for anything that would say otherwise, but if the marks are there, they're well hidden. All he sees are tiny flecks of paint littering their shirt, and he nods, relieved of some concern. At least they're not bleeding out in an alley. This time.

"Have you eaten?" he asks, eyeing the spotless counters and the lack of dishes in the sink.

"Today? Or in general?" they shoot back at him. It's a good way to avoid answering, he'll give them that. "You don't have to worry so much, you know." 

John lets out a quiet laugh. "After that stunt you pulled?" He shakes his head. "When you don't answer your texts all I can think is that you're in some dark, abandoned corner, slowly bleeding out, and when I find you it'll be too late."

Sam steps a little closer, keeping their head down. They don't meet John's eye and he's used to this, but he knows that this time, they're doing it on purpose. "It was only a couple stitches. I was alright."

"Alright?" John doesn't yell, has never yelled in his life, but his tone is sharp now. His words hold an intensity that's usually hidden from the world, or at least from Sam. "You never stop to consider the risks, do you? Would you even care if one of these days you didn't make it out alive?" 

"It doesn't really matter, does it? One way or another, we don't live forever." Their voice is quiet, and they shrug slightly, as if it could be possible to lighten what they've just been talking about.

John sighs, resting his head in his hands for a moment before he can continue. "I'm saying this as a friend, not as your boss, alright? But I can't be sending you into dangerous situations when I can't trust that you'll be doing all you can to get out of them alive." His eyes are hard and his gaze is firm. Reaching out, he tries to put a hand on Sam's shoulder, but they flinch away from him and he lets them be.

"I would never let any harm come to you. I would never let my actions jeopardise the mission." Their voice is firm and unfeeling. Cold words recited on instinct.

"Listen, it doesn't matter if my rank is higher than yours on some piece of paper. Your life isn't worth less than mine. Your life isn't worth less than anyone else's. So don't go sacrificing yourself for me, alright?" He doesn't wait for a response before continuing. "If anything, I'm in charge, so I protect you."

Sam just stands in front of him, motionless and unblinking. He knows they're listening but he doesn't know if they're taking any of it in.

"Maybe I should just call your sister," he adds with a slight shake of the head. "She's always been better at getting through to you." 

He tries to lighten the mood. "What are you building anyway?" 

"Harrier. And I'm painting now." They smile slightly, thinking about their project and how close they are to finishing. It's taken them most of the weekend, but they're almost done.

"Alright well, there's chilli and rice on the counter, and a little something for tea as well." He reaches his arms out, and this time Sam lets him gently pull them into a tight embrace. "Try not to die, alright?" 

"I'll try," comes the muttered reply. And with that, John leaves, closing the door behind him.

#asks answered #oc: john #oc: sam #whump #comfort #kinda? #it's mostly talking really #I'm sorry there's not much happening #they just needed a good old chat #sam is building an aircraft model btw #in case that wasn't clear sorry #but uh yeah #enjoy! #it's like 4am and I couldn't sleep until I wrote this