Fic: Four Times Sam Had Ice Cream..., green cortina, dakfinv
Title: Four Times Sam Had Ice Cream and One Time He Almost Died Painfully While Trying To Get One
Author: dak
Word Count: 1819
Rating: green cortina
Warnings: some injured!Sam at the end, but I guess the title should give that away?
Summary: Does what it says on the tin.
A/N: For culf , who requested the prompt (including the bit about Sam "almost dying painfully" else this would have been all rainbows and light!)
1)
Sam remembered the air was crisp. Mum had wrapped him up tight in his brown jacket and knit hat, but it had been his dad who tied the red and white scarf round his neck. He’d knotted it carefully and smoothed it down in the front before hoisting Sammy up onto his shoulders.
“Ready for the match, Sammy?” He had asked, looking up. Sammy nodded his head so vigorously, his hat fell into his eyes. He’d left it there the whole way to the pitch, hugging his dad’s head tight as he bounced up and down during the walk.
When the game ended with a brilliant United win, or so said his dad, Dad had gripped his hand tight and asked, “Why don’t we celebrate, Sammy?”
Sammy had looked up and smiled and off they walked to a little pub nearby. After Dad asked the barman a quick question, they settled into a cozy booth. Dad regaled Sam with stories of great matches Sam’s grandad had taken him to. Five minutes later, a barmaid brought them two dishes of vanilla ice cream.
Sammy’s eyes went wide. Mum had told him they couldn’t have any ice cream because they needed to save their pennies, but when he looked at Dad, Dad just winked.
“Let’s keep this between us boys, eh Sammy? Now dig in. Vanilla for both of us. Our favorite, innit?”
Sammy had nodded and smiled and grabbed a spoon. He had hoped every Saturday could be just like this.
2)
Sam remembered Julie wore a bright blue frock. He had told her it looked very nice and brought out her eyes. That was what Mum had told him to say and so he’d said it, even though her eyes were brown and he didn’t think the dress matched them at all.
Sam had been incredibly nervous. It wasn’t only his first date with Julie, but his first real date ever. Well, he’d once taken Megan Drury to the ice skating rink but that didn’t count because they’d only been twelve and their parents had gone along with them.
Now, now he was a real man. All of fourteen. He’d walked to Julie’s house on his own, politely greeted her mum and dad, and only held her hand when he’d asked if it was okay. They weren’t allowed to stay out long - only till seven - and Sam had offered to take her to the only place he could think of. Thankfully, Julie said she loved ice cream and that a trip to the little ice cream shop two streets over would be just brilliant. Sam would pay, of course.
He let her pick the table and then went up to the counter himself to order the ice cream. When he returned with two bowls of vanilla, however, Julie had looked incredibly disappointed.
“Just vanilla?” She had sighed and Sam immediately felt like a loser. He had thought quickly though, and said it was because he thought she would pick out as many toppings as she wanted and lots of toppings always tasted better with just vanilla.
Julie had seemed to like his idea and had gleefully run up to the counter with her dish, ordering every topping in sight. When she returned, Sam realized he hadn’t enough money left to get any toppings for himself, but that was alright. He really was fond of just vanilla.
3)
Sam remembered the case had been brutal. Not brutal as in violent but brutal as in impossible to figure out. For hours upon hours, he’d sat in his office poring over the case notes, the evidence, the surveillance video. Yet, for the life of him, he couldn’t manufacture a lead. He had promised the girl’s family that he would find the killer and though it was a promise he shouldn’t have made, he had done so nonetheless.
Four days now and he had nothing to show. The chances of solving a homicide diminished greatly after the first forty-eight hours. He hoped the family didn’t know this.
On the night of the fourth day, that was when Maya had entered his office, grabbed him by the arm, and forcibly removed him from the station.
“You’re burning yourself out, Sam,” she’d said. “You’re not doing anyone any good like that.”
Sam had protested heavily, insisting he was fine and that he needed to return to work. A trip to the pub would do him absolutely no good.
“We’re not going to the pub,” she had sighed, and Sam had become confused. His interest somewhat piqued, he’d allowed himself to go along with Maya’s plan, raising an eyebrow as she parked outside a Tesco’s. Hand still on his arm, she pulled him inside to the frozen foods section and planted him in front of the ice cream display.
“Pick one,” she had ordered, waving her hand at the various ice creams inside. “Whichever one, just pick one.”
Sam had stared at the collection. Cadbury’s and store brand. Imported Ben & Jerry’s. Cookie Dough. Peppermint Crunch. Chocolate Egg. Karamel Sutra. Butter Pecan. Rum Raisin. He told her he didn’t need any ice cream. He needed to work.
She told him he was overworked, his brain was fried, and if he didn’t take a break for himself, he’d never find a break in the case.
Reluctantly, Sam had opened the freezer door and reached his hand inside, bypassing all the complicated flavors, and pulled out a small container of store brand vanilla. He handed it to Maya.
“Just vanilla?” She’d asked.
“Just vanilla,” he’d replied.
“Well, you’re at least getting the expensive kind,” she had said, switching Sam’s chosen container with one of Ben & Jerry’s. After its purchase, Maya had driven him back to his flat, plopped him on his sofa, put on his favorite LP, and shoved the ice cream and a spoon into his hands. Ordered not to return to work until the entire carton was finished, Maya had left him to his own devices and disappeared herself.
Sam had struggled to obey the command, but with each soft spoonful of sweet sugar he scooped into his mouth, he felt his body giving way to relaxation. By the time he’d finished the carton, he’d needed a short nap.
He returned to the station in the morning and had a suspect in custody by the evening.
4)
Sam remembered Chris sitting quietly in his chair. The Constable had been laughing just a little quieter than the others, had pretended to focus on his work just a little more, and had gone to the toilets at least once an hour, returning with eyes that were just a little red.
When the others headed off for their afternoon meal, Chris had lagged behind and Sam had lagged with him. Though reluctant at first, after a gentle round of questioning, Chris finally admitted he was upset and the cause.
“Just a dog,” he’d said, fighting back a few tears. “Had him for ages. Since I were thirteen. Should’ve expected it, Boss. Just a dog. Shouldn’t be upset. Laugh at me, they find out.” Chris had rubbed a sleeve across those red-rimmed eyes, and Sam had an idea.
He told his DC to grab his coat and follow him. Sam had borrowed one of the unmarked cars and a short drive alter, they were outside a small pub.
“My dad once took me here,” Sam had said as he switched off the engine.
“Thought you didn’t approve of drinking on duty, Boss,” Chris had remarked.
“We’re not here for a pint, Chris,” Sam had smiled.
Inside, they chose a small booth and Sam placed an order at the bar. He then told Chris stories of a much beloved cat. Five minutes later, a barmaid brought them two dishes of vanilla ice cream. Chris’s eyes went wide.
“Cheers,” Sam had said, lifting his spoon.
“Cheers,” Chris had said, smiling for the first time that day.
They took their time eating, swapping pet stories all the whole. As Sam’s spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, he smiled. And Hunt said he couldn’t connect with the team.
5)
Sam didn’t remember how he ended up on the tarmac. He didn’t remember why he was laying on the ground or why he felt nauseous, or why his leg was resting at such a funny angle. He didn’t remember where he was going or where he’d been coming from or what he’d been planning on doing.
All he could remember were those times he’d gone for ice cream and how much he’d enjoyed each one. Except the date with Julie. Sam remembered she had talked much too much during their date, but then never spoke to him again after.
Sam remembered he was lying on the tarmac, but for how long, he did not remember. As Sam tried to remember, he began to hear. He heard the wail of a siren and the shouts of strangers and the call of his name.
The air was crisp.
“Sam!”
The sky was bright blue.
“Sam!”
The crash had been brutal.
“Sam!”
Chris was quiet.
When had Chris gotten there? What crash? Sam couldn’t remember.
“Sam!” Gene appeared, blocking Chris, blocking the bright blue sky. Sam felt fingers press against his neck. He saw Gene grimace. “Pulse’s bad,” his Guv sighed to Chris. “Didn’t your mam teach you to look both ways before crossing the street?” He scolded.
“Thought...thought that was your job, Tufty.” Sam remembered how to speak.
“See your wit is still intact. Lucky us,” Gene looked down. “’Fraid I can’t say the same ‘bout your leg,” he said quieter.
“Where am I?” Sam asked.
“Right outside the station.”
“What happened?”
“You were hit by a careless, piss poor driver whose going to need the bent dick I’ll give him to drive once I’m through playing hammer and tongs with his hands and feet!”
“Wh-what was I doing?”
“Taking Cartwright out for ice cream, for her birthday. Don’t worry. Girl’s alright. Has more sense in her pinky finger than you do in that entire thick skull of yours, Gladys.”
Sam looked away from Gene and back up at the sky, sighing. The sigh made him cough. He felt Gene’s hand on his shoulder.
“Easy, Sam. Easy. ‘Bout to load you into the bus now. Be on your way to hospital soon.”
“Guv...”
“Don’t talk, Sam. Save it up for when you’re better. Or at least not bleeding.”
“What’s your favorite ice cream?” He looked at Gene.
“Vanilla,” Gene answered, looking at the ambulance drivers. Sam smiled.
“Mine, too,” he said. “Mine, too.”
“Well, suppose you’re not all bad, then, are you? How about we get us a nice, big carton of vanilla once your all safe and sound in hospital, eh? You can pay and all.”
“Sounds good, Guv,” Sam sighed, wincing as he was lifted onto a stretcher. “Sounds good.”
Author: dak
Word Count: 1819
Rating: green cortina
Warnings: some injured!Sam at the end, but I guess the title should give that away?
Summary: Does what it says on the tin.
A/N: For culf , who requested the prompt (including the bit about Sam "almost dying painfully" else this would have been all rainbows and light!)
1)
Sam remembered the air was crisp. Mum had wrapped him up tight in his brown jacket and knit hat, but it had been his dad who tied the red and white scarf round his neck. He’d knotted it carefully and smoothed it down in the front before hoisting Sammy up onto his shoulders.
“Ready for the match, Sammy?” He had asked, looking up. Sammy nodded his head so vigorously, his hat fell into his eyes. He’d left it there the whole way to the pitch, hugging his dad’s head tight as he bounced up and down during the walk.
When the game ended with a brilliant United win, or so said his dad, Dad had gripped his hand tight and asked, “Why don’t we celebrate, Sammy?”
Sammy had looked up and smiled and off they walked to a little pub nearby. After Dad asked the barman a quick question, they settled into a cozy booth. Dad regaled Sam with stories of great matches Sam’s grandad had taken him to. Five minutes later, a barmaid brought them two dishes of vanilla ice cream.
Sammy’s eyes went wide. Mum had told him they couldn’t have any ice cream because they needed to save their pennies, but when he looked at Dad, Dad just winked.
“Let’s keep this between us boys, eh Sammy? Now dig in. Vanilla for both of us. Our favorite, innit?”
Sammy had nodded and smiled and grabbed a spoon. He had hoped every Saturday could be just like this.
2)
Sam remembered Julie wore a bright blue frock. He had told her it looked very nice and brought out her eyes. That was what Mum had told him to say and so he’d said it, even though her eyes were brown and he didn’t think the dress matched them at all.
Sam had been incredibly nervous. It wasn’t only his first date with Julie, but his first real date ever. Well, he’d once taken Megan Drury to the ice skating rink but that didn’t count because they’d only been twelve and their parents had gone along with them.
Now, now he was a real man. All of fourteen. He’d walked to Julie’s house on his own, politely greeted her mum and dad, and only held her hand when he’d asked if it was okay. They weren’t allowed to stay out long - only till seven - and Sam had offered to take her to the only place he could think of. Thankfully, Julie said she loved ice cream and that a trip to the little ice cream shop two streets over would be just brilliant. Sam would pay, of course.
He let her pick the table and then went up to the counter himself to order the ice cream. When he returned with two bowls of vanilla, however, Julie had looked incredibly disappointed.
“Just vanilla?” She had sighed and Sam immediately felt like a loser. He had thought quickly though, and said it was because he thought she would pick out as many toppings as she wanted and lots of toppings always tasted better with just vanilla.
Julie had seemed to like his idea and had gleefully run up to the counter with her dish, ordering every topping in sight. When she returned, Sam realized he hadn’t enough money left to get any toppings for himself, but that was alright. He really was fond of just vanilla.
3)
Sam remembered the case had been brutal. Not brutal as in violent but brutal as in impossible to figure out. For hours upon hours, he’d sat in his office poring over the case notes, the evidence, the surveillance video. Yet, for the life of him, he couldn’t manufacture a lead. He had promised the girl’s family that he would find the killer and though it was a promise he shouldn’t have made, he had done so nonetheless.
Four days now and he had nothing to show. The chances of solving a homicide diminished greatly after the first forty-eight hours. He hoped the family didn’t know this.
On the night of the fourth day, that was when Maya had entered his office, grabbed him by the arm, and forcibly removed him from the station.
“You’re burning yourself out, Sam,” she’d said. “You’re not doing anyone any good like that.”
Sam had protested heavily, insisting he was fine and that he needed to return to work. A trip to the pub would do him absolutely no good.
“We’re not going to the pub,” she had sighed, and Sam had become confused. His interest somewhat piqued, he’d allowed himself to go along with Maya’s plan, raising an eyebrow as she parked outside a Tesco’s. Hand still on his arm, she pulled him inside to the frozen foods section and planted him in front of the ice cream display.
“Pick one,” she had ordered, waving her hand at the various ice creams inside. “Whichever one, just pick one.”
Sam had stared at the collection. Cadbury’s and store brand. Imported Ben & Jerry’s. Cookie Dough. Peppermint Crunch. Chocolate Egg. Karamel Sutra. Butter Pecan. Rum Raisin. He told her he didn’t need any ice cream. He needed to work.
She told him he was overworked, his brain was fried, and if he didn’t take a break for himself, he’d never find a break in the case.
Reluctantly, Sam had opened the freezer door and reached his hand inside, bypassing all the complicated flavors, and pulled out a small container of store brand vanilla. He handed it to Maya.
“Just vanilla?” She’d asked.
“Just vanilla,” he’d replied.
“Well, you’re at least getting the expensive kind,” she had said, switching Sam’s chosen container with one of Ben & Jerry’s. After its purchase, Maya had driven him back to his flat, plopped him on his sofa, put on his favorite LP, and shoved the ice cream and a spoon into his hands. Ordered not to return to work until the entire carton was finished, Maya had left him to his own devices and disappeared herself.
Sam had struggled to obey the command, but with each soft spoonful of sweet sugar he scooped into his mouth, he felt his body giving way to relaxation. By the time he’d finished the carton, he’d needed a short nap.
He returned to the station in the morning and had a suspect in custody by the evening.
4)
Sam remembered Chris sitting quietly in his chair. The Constable had been laughing just a little quieter than the others, had pretended to focus on his work just a little more, and had gone to the toilets at least once an hour, returning with eyes that were just a little red.
When the others headed off for their afternoon meal, Chris had lagged behind and Sam had lagged with him. Though reluctant at first, after a gentle round of questioning, Chris finally admitted he was upset and the cause.
“Just a dog,” he’d said, fighting back a few tears. “Had him for ages. Since I were thirteen. Should’ve expected it, Boss. Just a dog. Shouldn’t be upset. Laugh at me, they find out.” Chris had rubbed a sleeve across those red-rimmed eyes, and Sam had an idea.
He told his DC to grab his coat and follow him. Sam had borrowed one of the unmarked cars and a short drive alter, they were outside a small pub.
“My dad once took me here,” Sam had said as he switched off the engine.
“Thought you didn’t approve of drinking on duty, Boss,” Chris had remarked.
“We’re not here for a pint, Chris,” Sam had smiled.
Inside, they chose a small booth and Sam placed an order at the bar. He then told Chris stories of a much beloved cat. Five minutes later, a barmaid brought them two dishes of vanilla ice cream. Chris’s eyes went wide.
“Cheers,” Sam had said, lifting his spoon.
“Cheers,” Chris had said, smiling for the first time that day.
They took their time eating, swapping pet stories all the whole. As Sam’s spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl, he smiled. And Hunt said he couldn’t connect with the team.
5)
Sam didn’t remember how he ended up on the tarmac. He didn’t remember why he was laying on the ground or why he felt nauseous, or why his leg was resting at such a funny angle. He didn’t remember where he was going or where he’d been coming from or what he’d been planning on doing.
All he could remember were those times he’d gone for ice cream and how much he’d enjoyed each one. Except the date with Julie. Sam remembered she had talked much too much during their date, but then never spoke to him again after.
Sam remembered he was lying on the tarmac, but for how long, he did not remember. As Sam tried to remember, he began to hear. He heard the wail of a siren and the shouts of strangers and the call of his name.
The air was crisp.
“Sam!”
The sky was bright blue.
“Sam!”
The crash had been brutal.
“Sam!”
Chris was quiet.
When had Chris gotten there? What crash? Sam couldn’t remember.
“Sam!” Gene appeared, blocking Chris, blocking the bright blue sky. Sam felt fingers press against his neck. He saw Gene grimace. “Pulse’s bad,” his Guv sighed to Chris. “Didn’t your mam teach you to look both ways before crossing the street?” He scolded.
“Thought...thought that was your job, Tufty.” Sam remembered how to speak.
“See your wit is still intact. Lucky us,” Gene looked down. “’Fraid I can’t say the same ‘bout your leg,” he said quieter.
“Where am I?” Sam asked.
“Right outside the station.”
“What happened?”
“You were hit by a careless, piss poor driver whose going to need the bent dick I’ll give him to drive once I’m through playing hammer and tongs with his hands and feet!”
“Wh-what was I doing?”
“Taking Cartwright out for ice cream, for her birthday. Don’t worry. Girl’s alright. Has more sense in her pinky finger than you do in that entire thick skull of yours, Gladys.”
Sam looked away from Gene and back up at the sky, sighing. The sigh made him cough. He felt Gene’s hand on his shoulder.
“Easy, Sam. Easy. ‘Bout to load you into the bus now. Be on your way to hospital soon.”
“Guv...”
“Don’t talk, Sam. Save it up for when you’re better. Or at least not bleeding.”
“What’s your favorite ice cream?” He looked at Gene.
“Vanilla,” Gene answered, looking at the ambulance drivers. Sam smiled.
“Mine, too,” he said. “Mine, too.”
“Well, suppose you’re not all bad, then, are you? How about we get us a nice, big carton of vanilla once your all safe and sound in hospital, eh? You can pay and all.”
“Sounds good, Guv,” Sam sighed, wincing as he was lifted onto a stretcher. “Sounds good.”