that face could light up rudolph's nose → cat/sam
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Cat/SamRating: G
Summary: Sam barely has time to turn her head before a kid - probably no more than five or six - barrels into her, knocking her over with such force that she drags Cat, who’s hand she never really got around to letting go of, down with her. Cat lets out a surprised shriek, toppling on top of her and the kid, who struggles to free himself of the arm Sam has wrapped around his neck, put there with every intention of choking him to death. (1,800~ words)
Disclaimer: I do not own Sam & Cat and I do not profit from writing this.
Notes: Written for a prompt on sam_and_cat's holiday ficathon meme and contains an abhorrent amount of fluff. This fic is also available on ffnet. Merry Christmas!
In an occurrence that, regrettably, seems to be getting more and more frequent due partially to perfected puppy eyes, Cat has somehow managed to convince Sam to do something against her will. Again. One of these days Sam is going to put her foot down, but that’ll be the day that Cat stops being so good at bribery. (This time, Sam is promised a free steak dinner and unlimited foot massages for the next month, which is a power she wholeheartedly plans to abuse.)
“Sam,” Cat says with a pout, tugging gently on her hand in a futile attempt to get her into the rink, where she will inevitably die. “C’mon, you promised.” The tone of her voice borders on whiny, her cheeks flushed from the exertion of actually trying to get Sam onto the ice.
“I promised I’d come down here with you,” Sam says, keeping her feet - already clad in ice skates because Cat insisted - firmly planted on the safe, not-ice-area around the rink. “I did not promise to get on the ice.”
“Well, that was clearly implied!” Cat argues, setting her free hand on her hip. She’s stupidly adorable, standing there in a beige peacoat and fluffy white earmuffs (which, according to Cat, look like bunnies), glossed lips turned downwards petulantly, and Sam really, really hates how much trouble she has actually telling the girl no.
“Cat,” Sam says, choosing her next words carefully. “If I go out there, I’ll die.”
“You will not,” Cat huffs, pulling at Sam’s fingers. When Sam stubbornly refuses to move, Cat exhales a sulky whine. “I don’t want to go out there by myself,” she admits eventually. “Please come skate with me? Please?” she pleads, sounding out the ‘e’ and batting her eyelashes.
“That’s low, Cat,” Sam grumbles, but shuffles forward nonetheless, cringing when the blades of her skates touch the ice. “Jesus,” Sam cries, knees locking when Cat begins to pull her further into the rink, free hand flailing for purchase on the wall. “Give me a warning, will you?”
“Sorry,” Cat giggles, not entirely sounding sorry at all. Her hold on Sam’s hand is firm, though, as if realizing that Sam doesn’t want to be let go of, and Sam can’t bring it in herself to be annoyed by the lack of sincerity in her apology. “Are you okay?” Cat goes on to ask, searching Sam’s face for an expression aside from acute fear.
“Yeah,” Sam replies, swallowing. She attempts straightening up so that she’s supporting herself more on her own two legs than the wall, but almost immediately loses balance. She catches herself on Cat’s shoulder, steadying herself with Cat’s assistance. “I don’t have enough coordination for this,” Sam complains, scowling when Cat giggles into her hair.
“Sam,” she says through her laughter, “you’re never going to learn if you keep this up.”
“Maybe I don’t want to learn,” Sam mutters, but allows Cat to help her up, until she’s standing uncertainly next to her, gripping Cat’s hand so tightly that she worries she’s cutting off circulation. “I can’t believe people do this for fun.”
“Sam,” Cat chastises fondly, rolling her eyes. She pulls at Sam’s hand, urging her to slide forward, and though Sam attempts to keep her feet planted, it doesn’t keep her from sliding forward an inch or two.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Sam cries, grabbing at Cat’s wrist with her other hand. “I told you to give me a warning!”
“Okay,” Cat says impatiently. “We’re moving, now.”
“I’m not ready!”
“Sam,” Cat groans, though there’s a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth that indicates she isn’t as frustrated as she’s trying to seem, maybe. “Relax, okay? All you have to for now is balance.”
Sam sucks in a steadying breath and exhales slowly, nodding once. “Okay,” she agrees. “Okay, just - go slow, alright? I don’t want to fall on my - ”
“Sam, there are children!” Cat gasps, putting her free hand over her mouth.
“I was going to say butt,” Sam retorts, sticking out her tongue. Her expression changes, however, when Cat begins to pull her across the ice. “Holy sh - !”
“Shh!” Cat insists, but she’s laughing, eyes bright. “It’s okay, you’re not going to fall,” she soothes, turning around slowly so she can see where she’s going, setting one foot in front of the other and skating with ease. It annoys Sam, just a little, that she’s so good at this when Sam can’t even fathom letting go of her hand, let alone moving her feet at all.
After about a minute of this, Cat turns her gaze to Sam, grinning excitedly. “It’s fun, right?” she asks before turning her blades in a way that slows her to a stop. When Sam continues propelling forward, Cat yelps and catches her by the shoulders, stumbling a little but managing, somehow, not to topple over.
Sam is a little shaken by it, but Cat seems to find it funny, if her laughter is any indication.
“Stop,” Sam warns, but then she’s chuckling, too, both from relief and exhilaration. This is - it’s maybe a little fun, she guesses, but she’s not going to tell Cat that. “This sucks,” she says instead, carefully letting go of Cat’s hand with only one of her own to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Does not,” Cat replies, wrinkling her nose. “Now, come on, I’m going to teach you how to do it for real. Don’t worry,” Cat tacks on at Sam’s horrified expression, “I’m not going to let you die.”
“I don’t think you have any control over that,” Sam grumbles.
“Are you ready?” Cat asks, eyes wide in question. Sam thinks about telling her to shove that cute little pout of hers where the sun doesn’t shine, but decides against it in the spirit of Christmas.
Instead of threatening her roommate, Sam inhales slowly before muttering, “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” and mostly manages not to smile at Cat’s excited, “hooray!”
“Okay,” she says after a moment, attempting to pull her hand away from Sam’s and giving up when Sam only tightens her grip. “Have you ever roller skated before?”
“Do I look like a girl that’s roller skated before?” Sam says dryly, cocking a brow.
“Well, it’s just like that,” Cat says, ignoring her. “You basically just put one foot in front of the other and slide yourself forward.”
“You’re a terrible teacher, you know that?” Sam jokes. “It’s not going to help me any if I’ve never skated!”
“Well, that’s how I learned!” Cat retorts, huffing. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to teach you if you’ve never done anything fun!”
“Cat, c’mon,” Sam tries, only to get cut off by someone nearby screaming, “look out!”
Sam barely has time to turn her head before a kid - probably no more than five or six - barrels into her, knocking her over with such force that she drags Cat, who’s hand she never really got around to letting go of, down with her. Cat lets out a surprised shriek, toppling on top of her and the kid, who struggles to free himself of the arm Sam has wrapped around his neck, put there with every intention of choking him to death.
“Sam! Sam, no!” Cat cries, scrambling onto her knees and prying the kid from Sam’s grasp. Cat turns to him, rubbing his shoulders comfortingly while he apologizes profusely. “It’s okay,” she insists, sitting back with a sigh of relief as he gets to his feet and skates away in fear of Sam’s murderous tendencies.
“And - and stay away!” Sam calls after him, spluttering hair from her mouth and turning to glare at Cat. “That kid could’ve killed me!” she proclaims, scowling.
“Sam,” Cat begins, and then starts giggling. “I - I’m sorry,” she apologizes, slapping her palm over her mouth. “But - your face,” she squeals, giggles transitioning to loud laughter.
“Sh-Shut up!” Sam cries, trying to get up only to fall straight back onto her butt. She swears that Cat laughs even harder at that, so she demands, “stop laughing!”
“I - I can’t!” Cat replies gleefully, eyes brimming with happy tears. “Sam, you’re so funny!”
“I’ll show you funny,” Sam growls, before pouncing on Cat and pinning her to the ice. Cat shrieks, halfheartedly trying to push her off, and Sam is just about to start tickling her when another kid - a girl this time, probably around twelve - trips over them, knocking Sam back onto the ice.
Cat is laughing so hard Sam wonders how she can even breathe. The girl that hit them gets up, apologizing with a blush, and Sam begins to say something rude, but then she glances at Cat and she looks so unabashedly happy that Sam just kind of.
Well, she has to laugh, too.
*
After finally managing to get off the ice (and only having enough inclination to move when they were told to by one of the managers), Sam and Cat wander to the café down the street. While Cat heads up to the counter to order both of them hot chocolate (her treat, of course), Sam finds her way to a pair of plush armchairs and drops into one, forgetting about the bruise on her backside until she’s already bumped it against the arm.
Sam curses under her breath, readjusting herself until she’s a little more comfortable, and idly scrolls through her phone apps while she waits for Cat to come sit.
When she meanders over, carrying a cup of cocoa in both of her hands, she grins at Sam, handing her one of the drinks before settling into the armchair across from her, tucking her legs under her body and smiling a little dopily as she takes a sip.
“What are you so happy about?” Sam asks, taking a sip of her drink. It feels nice and smooth going down her throat, a warmth spreading through her chest and into her stomach as it goes down.
“Nothing, really,” Cat says, meeting Sam’s gaze earnestly. “Today was fun.”
Sam snorts, but the action is goodnatured. She takes another sip from her cup, hiding a smile. “Yeah, well,” she begins, shrugging. “I guess it could’ve been worse.”
Cat accepts the comment graciously, humming under her breath and lifting the drink to her lips again. After taking a long drink, she says, “I hope your butt stops hurting.”
Sam breathes a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I hope you know,” she says, “that those foot massages are now going to be butt massages.” Cat opens her mouth to protest, but Sam cuts her off. “You owe me,” she says, raising a brow. Cat sighs, nodding in her defeat.
Sam grins, totally intending to abuse that power.