Sam Ellen Sara and Michael Guerin
School in Shatter isn't anything like the Winchester-Harvelle parents remember it. Since they travel so often, Sammie only really goes to 'class' for a few weeks out of every month, at the most, and there's no one to call her on tardiness. It's in Kansas, of course, the Safe Zone, the one place her parents feel its all right to put down some roots, if only so they have somewhere to come back to when they need a rest. With their house set up halfway between Lawrence and Smallville, Sammie drives her own jeep to the farm for lessons - science and mechanics with Sokka, who helped her father build her car; sharp-shooting and weapons training with whoever's available on the farm that day; English and reading with Steph; and pretty much everything else comes as it comes or stays where it is, leaving Sammie with plenty to choose from, even if all she chooses to do when she gets to the farm is get a piece of fruit from Lucy and go visit Louise and her kracken.
That's where she was when she met Michael. She'd been gone for months with her parents on a hunt up near the Canada-Michigan border, but the Loch Ness monster in the not-Loch-Ness lake was eventually beaten back. She's enjoying sunshine and relaxation for the first time in a long time, giggling while Spots entertains her with tentacle-shadow-puppet shows. The kracken is full-sized, living in a man-made lake beside the farm house that his daddies made for him, and is always happy to entertain a farm-wanderer so long as they tip him.
Sammie had been tossing Spots a roasted chicken when the spiky-haired teenager came around the corner of the house.
"...what the hell is that?"
"Kracken," Sammie replied cheerfully. She was lying back on the grass, propped up on her elbows, and she looks over with a beaming smile as she lifts her sunglasses. "His name's Spots. Who the hell are you?"
He frowned at her, obviously not sure how to react when a pretty girl cursed at him and grinned in the same sentence. "I've been here a month, how come I haven't seen you around?"
"Oh, I was hunting," Sammie replies with an easy wave of her hand, setting her sunglasses up on top of her hair, pulled back into a neat ponytail today. "My folks and I, we take off like that all the time."
"Hunting what?"
She'd glanced over at him and taken note of the light in those dark brown eyes, the brief spark of interest. And she'd grinned. She knew the kind of people who smiled like that about hunting. "Monsters."
He's taken a few steps closer almost unconsciously, still eyeing Spots warily - and apparently even more creeped out when the tentacles creep out of the pond and Spots burbles happily at him. "Monsters," he repeats slowly, dark eyes back on Sammie while he jams his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket.
"Monsters," Sammie confirms, not moving from her relaxed position on the grass. "The kind that move in and attack people, not just any monsters. Sometimes people, too, usually the ones hunting the harmless monsters. Those guys are freaks."
"...there's harmless monsters?" He sounds more curious than accusing, brows lifted as he sits down beside her. Sammie's smile isn't going anywhere - he's even cuter up close
"Sure. Monsters are just like animals, some of them just eat to survive. We help people relocate if its just a matter of territory, 'cause the monster was there first, y'know. Or we cull them back if there's just getting to be too many of them. But so long as they aren't hurting just to hurt, it's the people's own damn fault if they're too dumb to keep from getting eaten. Especially with all the game around here, a monster could pick off one of those if the humans would wise up."
He's staring at her. That's never really a good sign but the sun is warm and the grass is soft and Sammie's having a good day - she just continues beaming at him. "You can say I'm weird all you want but I'm right, too."
"I didn't say you were weird," he says quickly, gruffly, and Sammie grins at his discomfort, tilting her head to watch him scramble for words. "Just... not a lot of people think that way."
"Not a lot of people learned to shoot a shotgun when they were five."
He really does have pretty eyes, all deep chocolate brown. Especially pretty when they widen like that. "Five?" he demands, and starts to grin when she nods - he's got a great smile. "Jesus... what was up with your parents?"
She's heard this argument before, too, making a scoffing sound before shrugging. "Nothing was up with them, they just wanted me to be safe," she argues, putting her eyes back on Spots as he continues entertaining her with shadow puppets. "They're hunters, they couldn't take me along with them without teaching me to take care of myself, and like hell were they leaving me behind."
He isn't grinning anymore, but he is smiling - and he still has a great smile. Something about his lips, Sammie decides, is very... kissable. That's definitely it. It makes it very easy to forgive him, too. "That's cool."
"...yeah?"
"Yeah." He shifts where he's sitting and offers her a hand. "I'm Michael."
Sammie grins and rolls a bit to take his hand and shake it. "Sam."
"Nice t'meet you."
"You, too."
He scoffs when she mentions class but Sammie rolls her eyes and gets to her feet anyway. She likes him but damn it, she's got stuff to do. And after teasing him for a while, she gets him to follow along. Though it probably helps that she points out he'll learn a lot more talking to people than hanging out with Spots.
He's from Earth, she realizes, when he stares wide-eyed at some of their more colorful/interesting neighbors. And he was definitely in high school, she notes, giggling at the look on his face when he realizes that by 'training,' she hadn't meant 'dodgeball in gym class.'
"You have no idea how to hold that thing, do you?" Sammie asks sweetly, watching him fumble with the grenade launcher. Michael glanced at her sharply but his expression gentled when he realized she wasn't being mean - just teasing him.
"No clue," he admits, and lets her show him how.
(it probably helped that she had to get behind him and put her arms around his shoulders, but Sammie didn't mind that either - he's got nice shoulders, too)
He skips science with Sokka out of what seems like principle. Sammie snorts and rolls her eyes and doesn't argue, but she's grinning later when the explosions and shouts of laughter conjure dark chocolate eyes peeking around the corner.
"Okay, now grab that one vial of acid and bring it over, let's see if we can make the next explosion even bigger!"
She suspects Michael's never had a science class like the ones taught by Sokka.
He doesn't appear during English with Steph, but Sammie can't blame him. Great Expectations is boring and it only takes ten minutes of whining before the group of teenagers is able to convince Steph that swimming with Spots would be a much more worthwhile way to spend the afternoon.
Later, with her hair still damp from the swim, Sammie's arms are loaded down with grocery bags full of fruit. Lucy and her Mom are like best friends or something, though no one can ever figure out why since Lucy doesn't say much. Her dad and Momma don't seem to understand it either, but they all get access to the fruit, so no one questions it.
Skipping down the walk toward her jeep, Sammie spies a shock of spiky hair over one of the bags and smirks a little. "Y'know, a gentleman would grab one of these bags so I could get my keys," she suggests.
It takes a moment, but a leather jacket brushes her wrist when he takes two of the bags, and his chocolate eyes are smiling at her even if his lips aren't quite curved in a smirk. "Guess I could pretend to be one for a while. Where're you headed? It's getting late."
"The sun isn't even down yet," Sammie points out, but she's grinning as she digs her keys out of her pocket. "I'm going home."
He frowns, glancing back at the farm house, all lit up from the inside, and the bunker nearby, and the countless little cabins set up all around it. "You don't live here?"
"Hell no, my parents would kill themselves if they had to stick around the hippie commune any more than totally necessary." Sammie grins when he laughs and sets one of the bags in the backseat. Turning to look at him, she leans against the jeep, watches with a smile as he sets the other bags beside hers.
Michael, apparently, does not like being looked at or watched - as soon as he notices, the hint of a smirk is gone and he's frowning at her, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched. "What?"
Sammie's grin didn't fade in the slightest. "Wanna go out tomorrow?"
Apparently, along with not being around monsters, casually-run school systems, and friendly kracken, Michael isn't used to be asked out - judging by his wide eyes, anyway. "Huh?"
"Out," Sammie repeats, swallowing back a giggle as she jerks her thumb back toward the woods. "You wanna be a hunter? You should probably start off on fluffy bunny rabbits or something. Do you know how to shoot?"
"Yeah." She thought the offer would make him smile, but Michael's frown has only deepened slightly. "I'm not interested in just killing stuff... and I don't need guns."
It takes effort not to roll her eyes but Sammie manages it - it's easy when there's eye-candy to distract her. "Well, it's 'just killing' so I have something to bring home for dinner tomorrow. It's my turn to cook. And that's fine, you can use your powers or whatever, but it might be helpful to learn at least a handgun."
She turns away from the eye-candy to give it - him - time to blink and stare at her like she's some kind of evil freak or something, occupying herself with arranging the bags in the backseat so nothing falls. "I never said anything about powers," he snaps, on-edge, nervous.
"My mom turns into animals," Sammie informs him quietly, glancing back at him with an even gaze, "and her best friend is a dragon. And also, I met you while a giant kracken was giving me a puppet show. I don't know what you can do, but if you don't think you need a gun, then you can do something."
He glares at her and Sammie rolls her eyes and goes back to her bags before pulling the driver's side door open with a yank - it sticks, she hasn't gotten it fixed yet.
She didn't expect a strong hand to slam it closed again before she could get in.
Eyes narrowed and shoulder rolled back to put her hand at the back waist of her jeans, Sammie looked over at Michael - only to find him staring at his hand on her car door.
...his hand, glowing red, on her car door.
When the glow faded, he gripped the handle and opened it, smooth and easy, serious dark eyes on Sammie.
Who beamed and left the knife where it was against her back to grin at him. "Oh, awesome! I totally didn't want to give it over to my dad, he always takes forever on repairs." Still grinning, Sammie leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks!"
He hadn't been expecting that either. Sammie's still admiring his stunned expression in her side mirror when she starts the car and he apparently remembers how to speak.
"Hey-"
"Yeah?"
"...what time?"
"For what, hunting tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"I dunno, 'bout three? It's a little easier in the afternoons. Meet you at those trees?"
"...yeah."
"Cool." She beamed cheekily and waved as the engine turned over and her foot came off the brake. "See you tomorrow!"
He's a weird guy, Sammie decides, still glancing at her rear-view as she heads down the road and toward home. He isn't moving, standing in the road, watching her, which could be creepy or flattering, depending on how she wanted to look it. But when he shoves his hands in his pockets and turns away, walking slowly back toward the house with his head tilted up to the sky, Sammie decides she can look at it some other time.
She's got a date to plan.