"What on earth is on your head?"

I look up, although I really don't see anything. I do know what Tom is referring to though, which is the half-up half-down bun thing I tried this morning.

"I don't think it looks that bad," I reply, and his scoff borderlines mockery.

"It looks like a five-year-old did it. Did your mother not teach you how to do any proper hairstyle?"

I roll my eyes, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "She did, but I can only do it well on other people. I could give you a killer waterfall braid... probably. Just can't do it myself."

I see Tom glance at his own hair that he surprisingly wore down today. It reaches his shoulders, and I'd have thought Janine would have offered to cut it for him by now. Maybe she has and he said no. Either way, he almost looks like he's considering it for a moment, letting me braid it, but then he shakes his head.

Understandable. With my hair looking the way it is it's probably hard to trust anything I say.

"Do you want me to fix yours?" He offers, and a surprised smile spreads across my lips as I quirk a brow.

"Really?"

"Jody has taught me a few things. I don't think she'd be very happy with me if she found out I saw you and still let you decide to walk around the township with your hair like that."

I let out a choked sound of shock from his bluntness. "You are so mean. It's not that bad."

"It is that bad," He replies as he leads me over to one of the tables at the back of the library. "And friendship is based on honesty, is it not?"

"Uh..." I trail off, unsure how to respond. He pulls out a table chair to sit down, and I sit on my knees with my back turned to him. "Well, you still don't have to be so rude about it. You don't see me talking shit about your hair."

"That's because my hair looks nice." He pulls out the pins in my hair, being sure not to pull too hard at the strands that get stuck around the pins.

"That's true, but still. You have to let me down easy. I'm sensitive."

That gets a laugh out of him, and the tremors extend all the way down to his fingers that are raking through my hair with surprising gentleness.

"Don't laugh. You'll hurt my feelings," I tease, which keeps him laughing.

"So that's how it is? Your high pain tolerance weighs out your low emotional tolerance?" He asks, and I grin.

"You could say that," I reply, and we both know it's a total lie. I mean, I'm sure Tom could slice me to ribbons simply with his words, and Tom probably knows it too, but after everything I've been through, a few insulting or teasing words barely make a dent.

"Speaking of pain tolerance, how's your arm?"

I look down at the bandages wrapped around my arm, covering perfectly healthy skin. I'm lucky Maxine and Paula were busy with other patients at the hospital and Tom said he knew how dress and stitch a wound.

Of course, Janine was a little hesitant to let Tom help patch me up. She still worries about him and his state of mind. But I told her I trusted him, because I do... Which is surprising considering how at one point I literally tried to choke him and he nearly blew me up.

It's usually the ones that try to kill me that end up being my closest friends.

But my actions last week were dumb and reckless, even if I really was only trying to help. I still remember the terrible cuts that adorned Peter's face from falling onto that tricky spot, rock and rubble tearing into skin... I spent the majority of the way home apologizing.

Peter was right though; his wounds were already healed by the time we got back to Abel. Of course, the scales took a day to flake off and reveal human skin again, but he was okay.

"I owe you one for coming in and patching me up. You're a lifesaver."

Tom hums, his hand reaching around to go under my chin and lift my head. "Keeping looking forward... You know in a week or two Dr. Meyers will want to take the stitches out."

Oh, yes, the stitches. Even though I didn't need them, since I had almost completely healed when I got back to Abel, Tom had to give me stitches since Maxine wanted to check later on if he had done them correctly. It had to be believable and doing that meant he had to stitch me up. He was kind, talked to me as a way to distract me each time the needle poked through my skin, but it still hurt. When Maxine checked to make sure it had been done correctly, I had pulled at the wound beforehand to keep it from healing too quickly. That sucked.

"Can't I just say I want you do to it?"

"Callista-"

"You wouldn't even have to. I'd pull them out myself. It's not like it'd do any lasting damage."

"I understand that, but Dr. Meyers may not feel comfortable with it since she already wasn't happy that I sewed you up in the first place."

"I'm sure I could convince her," I reply, but my tone barely masks my lack of confidence.

"You're going to have to tell them eventually," He says after a moment.

"Well, you can shoot me in the head and when I come back, everyone can be amazed."

My words sound immature even to my own ears. That's probably why he doesn't say anything, just grabs a few strands of hair and starts braiding. I'm not really sure what he's doing, whether he's making something intricate to not, but I don't really care. I'm almost sure it'll look better than anything I've ever tried to do for myself.

"I've thought about it, you know-how I'll tell them. I just don't know how they'll react," I murmur, looking down, and again Tom grabs my chin and forces me to look upward before going back to my hair.

"You're afraid they'll see you differently."

I sigh. "Yeah."

He hums again. "Understandable, but you can't keep lying, not forever."

"But I can lie for now." My words come out in a forcefully cheeky, sing-song voice, but I'm not sure whether Tom finds it funny or not, so I try to change the subject. "So, Jody's teaching you how to braid hair now, huh?"

"Well, she likes me doing her hair and sometimes she likes to do mine," He replies.

"Huh. Well, it's a good skill to have. Means you can help the less skilled out, like me."

"Like you," He agrees.

"I'm guessing though that you don't have anything important to do today if you're able to take the time out to do this for me," I say, although it sounds more like a question to help keep the talk going.

"I finished my patrol run earlier this morning. Now my only job is to help in the training grounds this evening."

I laugh, although it's of slight nervousness. "Good luck to whoever you're training... It's not me, is it?"

He chuckles. "Not today. I believe we train tomorrow, since you and Three have-"

As if on cue, a voice calls my name.

"Callista? Hey, Five-o, where-" Peter's head pops up from behind a bookshelf, and his eyes light up when he sees me. "There you are... What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? Tom's making my hair pretty," I reply, and he takes a moment, obviously not too impressed by how ill prepared I seem to be. I honestly forgot my run was at this time, which, we'll, shame on me for not looking at the run schedule properly.

"I can see that. But um, are you almost done? We have another patrol run, and hopefully this one won't involve us hopping on top of lorries in response to a sudden convoy distress call."

"Don't worry. It's finished," Tom says, pulling a hair tie out of thin air. I know I didn't see him with any on his wrists. He ties my hair into place, then gently grabs my arm that isn't covered in bandages to help me stand.

I dust myself off, smiling gratefully. "Thanks, Tom. I owe you one."

"You owe me two, actually," He corrects, folding his hands in his lap.

"Yeah. I owe you two. I'm going to have to learn what your favorite food is since the only strings I can really pull is with running or in the kitchens." I turn to Peter. "Ready?"

He nods and hands me my headset and backpack. "Sam's waiting for us to get to the gates."

I cast one my look at Tom, who's already found interest in something else, before leaving. As we do so, I look at Peter expectantly. "Does it look okay? The braid?"

He takes a moment, to study or to figure out what he wants to say. "Yeah. It looks good. Tom is surprisingly skilled at that."

"Jody taught him, apparently, although I'm beginning to think he's just somehow good at everything."

"It's a De Luca thing, I think. When I ran past the music store a few days ago, I grabbed some instruments just in case our orchestra friends needed new ones. I showed one of the piccolos to Janine once I got back. She took some of the sheet music that I'd brought back and after a few tries played "Silent Night" perfectly. I mean, I know that's an easy song, but I don't think Janine's played an instrument ever!"

I put on my headset and turn it on. "They're just naturals at everything. I would say it's annoying, but I like Tom and I'm scared of Janine."

Peter clicks his tongue in agreement. "We're ready when you are, Sammy."

"Finally," He says, and his voice has slight annoyance, probably because Janine will have his ass if she finds out some of his runs went off late. "Five, it's not like you to be late."

"She was getting her hair braided."

"Oh, yeah, I see that. Pretty. Did one of the people from Blackmoore Castle do that?"

"Tom did, actually," I say, and he hums, sounding slightly surprised.

"Oh. Nice. Well, you look pretty. I mean, you always look pretty-well, not always, because you do get hurt and I don't like seeing you hurt, but most of the time-"

"Oh my God, just raise the gates already," Peter groans, and by the slight sputtering on the other end I can only guess how badly my husband's blushing.

That fact that he still blushes when it comes to me gives me a sick sense of power that I honestly shouldn't have since he can turn me into just as much of a mess if he so pleases.

"Right. Right. Sorry. Uh, raise the gates!"

The alarms sound and the gates go up, and after grabbing my backpack strap as I pray hopefully for good luck, I run, with Peter right beside me.

"So, I would say this is a normal patrol run-"

"Please don't," Peter interrupts with a deadpan look, which gets a chuckle from our operator.

"But considering what happened last week, I'm not going to say that. Just keep an eye out as you run, and I'll keep an eye out for any roaming convoys or Last Riders, okay?"

"I wouldn't mind kicking one of them in the face again," I say with a giggle. "That was fun... Everything else I wouldn't mind skipping over."

"No sense of adventure today, Five?" Peter grins sharply with a raised brow.

"Nah. The only adventure I need is when me and Sam build a blanket fort tonight. Want to join us?"

"As enticing as that sounds, I'll probably pass," He says. "Maybe next time."

I nod, trying not to show the twinge of disappointment I feel. My grimace of disappointment quickly turns to a shiver, and I suddenly wish I had had the chance to grab a jacket before leaving.

"I hate the cold," I say, and Peter gives me a disbelieving look as he goes to wrap his hand around my wrist.

"How is you've been living in England for nearly seven years and yet you still aren't used to the weather here?"

"I don't know. The same way I don't understand when you talk about currency, or you say weird words like-like pavement instead of sidewalk and shit. Just because I've been around it for a while doesn't mean I've accepted it."

"Oh, how I can't wait to see how Adora turns out."

"She's going to know what soccer is actually called."

"She is," Sam agrees. "Because it's called football."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is! You kick the ball with your foot. The American football makes no sense! The players throw the ball more than they kick it."

"Still," Is all I say.

"Do you even know how that game works? Seriously, because I don't."

My face scrunches up as my free hand comes up to rub the back of my neck. "Well, no, I never got into it that much-"

"Really?" Peter asks.

"My family liked to hunt and fish more than sit and watch sports. I was in volleyball and I watched my school play basketball, but I never really got into football."

"Then why do you insist on 'soccer'," Sam tries to do an American accent, and I cringe at how northern is sounds, "being called soccer?"

"Because that's what it's called. Just because I don't like American football doesn't mean I won't call it and soccer what it is called."

He groans. "Why are you so stubborn?"

"I thought you found my stubbornness endearing," I reply, sounding slightly arrogant. I glance at Peter, who's looking thoroughly entertained by all of this. "You sure you don't want to join the blanket fort tonight? I'm sure it's going to be very interesting now."

"As fun as it is to watch you be a little shit, I'm still going to have to say no. But take a picture of the fort if you can. That way when we can build one better next time."

"As if you could build a better blanket fort than me and Five," Sam mocks.

"Is that a challenge?"

"Hell yeah, it's a challenge!"

Peter looks at me and smiles wickedly. "Now you have to take a picture, so my inner child can beat Sam's inner child."

"Not going to-oh, hold on on that argument," Sam says, dropping the taunting attitude for just a second. "Uh, pick up the pace a bit. There are some zoms roaming about to your east and heading your way. No need to let them catch up. Faster you get done with this patrol run, the faster you can get home and me and Five can build a fort that Peter won't even come close to topping."

"Oh, it is so on!"

•

"Midnight, on the bridge. Come alone."

Sam scoffs, eyeing the small screen as the movie we picked out plays. The light illuminates against his face. It's the only light since the lights are off and blankets are piled above us, blocking out any light from the monitors on the coms desk.

"Yes, because that's not ominous at all. Why would anyone just go if they received a note like that?"

"You mean like I did while we were living in a camper van and got a note via radio that somehow knew that I was alive?" I ask, my lips twitching at the memory. "And that person ended up being my future best friend Peter?"

He cringes. "We really do make questionable decisions, don't we?"

"Most definitely. You know, we still need to take a picture to show Peter, or else he'll think he can beat you at blanket fort building."

"He could never. We all know I'm the most childish." He makes a face, his words finally seeming to process. "Wait. That isn't what I meant."

I giggle as he tries to think of a way to correct himself. "Doesn't mean it's wrong though."

He cocks a brow, looking slightly agitated yet equally intrigued. "Oh, you think you're funny, do you?"

"I more so think you're funny, hence why I'm laughing."

"Smart alec."

"Dork."

Without warning he wraps his arms around me, leaning over and causing me to fall back against the pillows we have strewn about on the floor. I squeal with laughter.

"What are you doing?" I ask, shivering at the feeling of his bodyweight on me, the softness, the warmth.

"Getting back at you for being a smart alec," He replies. "You've been one all day, ever since that patrol run earlier."

He speaks between applying ticklish kisses across my face, and I squirm but put up no real effort to get out of his arms.

"This doesn't feel like much of a punishment," I laugh, and I feel his teeth against my jaw as he grins.

"I'm just getting started."

One hand grips my hair, fingers threading through the intricate crisses and crosses of the braid Tom did hours ago. My giggles continue until I'm breathless. Sam continues pressing short, sweet kisses to my cheeks, jaw, chin, nose, forehead and even around my ears. He pulls away every time I try to lean closer to get a chaste kiss on the lips. He snickers each time I glare at him.

"You're such a jerk," I whine, and I feel more than hear him laugh.

"Oh, I'll show you jerk," He replies, and suddenly his kisses on my jaw become less sweet, less ticklish, and as he goes down to my neck I choke on air.

"S-Sam," I stammer, and he simply hums.

"Sorry. Too busy being a jerk to listen," He says, sounding slightly breathless sucks on skin that won't even get the chance to form bruises. I try to wriggle out of his grip. He isn't holding me all that tightly, and I know all I have to do is say the word and he'll stop, but this position is a bit hard to move in, especially since the pillows beneath me shift when I do. I just want to wrap my arms around him, damn it!

"Now who's the smart alec?" My voice is surprisingly stable, only hitching when the arm he has wrapped around me shifts, my shirt bunching up just enough for his fingertips to skim along my side.

"Still you." He says, lifting his head, eyes half-lidded and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. I manage to get one of my arms free, bringing it up grab his hair quite like he has done with mine. With a rough pull I bring his lips down to meet mine, groaning at finally getting to kiss him.

Sam takes a moment to respond from the shock, but then he's unwrapping his arm from around me push himself up a bit, kissing me back for a brief moment before pulling away. He looks extremely reluctant as he does so, and I can't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction because of it.

"Desperate much?" He asks, although it's hard for me to take him seriously when his face is this red from me surprisingly him with a simple kiss. I let my hand fall from his hair, but his fingers stay woven between the strands of my braid.

I can only guess how horrendous I look.

"Only for you."

The way lips stretch out in a grin tells me just how much he likes that response. He leans down and kisses me again, and it's not as desperate as how I kissed him, but it's still not gentle by any means either. My hands trail up his arms to grip his shoulders, gripping just hard enough to hear him hiss through his teeth, his fingers digging into my side.

"I love you," I whisper against his lips, and he falters with a soft moan.

"You can't say that when I'm trying to be mean. It makes me want to not be mean."

"Sorry?" I laugh when he pushes himself away, and even though he's not far I have the urge to follow after him. "I thought you never got tired of me saying that."

"I don't." He pulls his hand from my hair, probably messing it up even more. "But it makes me not want to get back at you for being an arse from earlier."

"So what you're saying is I've now found a secret weapon." I ask, before laughing manically at this "new" discovery, which causes Sam nearly to fall on top of me because of how ridiculous I sound. He ends up laughing just as hard as me, although his is more genuine.

"Way to ruin the moment," He says, and a sly look spreads across my face as idea pops into my head.

"Nah, that didn't ruin it. But this might."

He frowns. "What-"

I grab one of the nearby pillows, my fingers curling around the navy blue pillowcase before I fling my arm upward and slam it into Sam's side. He yelps as he's thrown off me, falling onto the array of pillows covering the floor. He gasps when he realizes what's just happened.

"You little-"

"You want a real reason to be mean?" I ask, although we both know it's more of a challenge. "I'll give you a reason to be mean."

"Ah!" He holds up his arms to protect himself as I hit him with the pillow again, and he grabs one from the floor and flings it at me. I squeal and duck, but the pillow still manages to hit my face. It blinds me just long enough for Sam to grab a pillow and start hitting me with it, laughing as he does so.

"Have you always been this difficult?" He jokes.

"I've always liked getting a rile out of you, if that's what you mean," I reply, trying to hit him with my pillow, but he uses his as a shield to block my already soft blows.

"And you say I'm the jerk."

"And I say you're a dork. What are you going to do about it?"

He doesn't answer, instead giving me another good whack with his pillow, the force nearly knocking me over. Sam hits me again, and I let him, giggling and smiling all the way. He hits my sides and front before reaching forward and ripping my pillow out of my hands and tossing it aside.

"No, my weapon!" I yell dramatically, although the words are jumbled between fits of laughter, so it's not like Sam takes it seriously. I don't even take it seriously.

Sam hits me again, the pillow hitting my chest with enough force to leave me winded and falling back onto a cushioned embrace. He points the pillow at my face, smirking as if it's a sword and he just beat me in a dual or something.

He looks ridiculous and the entire situation nearly has me burst in a fit of giggles all over again. But I keep it in, still trying to catch my breath and Sam does the same.

He looks remarkably breathless, and remarkable breathless.

"I win," He says simply, eyes lit with pride.

"So you did," I reply, feeling hot and breathlessly and incredibly silly. "So, do I need to beg for mercy? You're still holding that pillow against me like it's an actual weapon so I can only wonder what it is you want from me now."

"What do I want from you?" He asks, his voice smooth and his brows furrowing together. Finally he meets my eyes, and instead of any teasing I just find sincerity. "I don't want anything from you. I just want you... all of you."

The words hit me hard, stealing the air from my lungs and causing heat to rush through me. "Well, I-I've got some very good news for you then."

"And what's that?"

My heart flutters as I choke out a surprisingly stable reply. "Maybe you didn't know, but we're married, meaning you have all of me already, and don't need to demand it at pillow-point."

"Pillow..." He shakes his head, trying extremely hard not to smile but doing so anyway. "God, I love you so much."

"I love you too. More than anything."

He drops the pillow, leaning down as if to kiss me again before stopping short. I almost open my mouth to say something but stop when he brings a hand up to cup my face.

"You are amazing," He says, "although your hair's all messed up now."

I purse my lips. "And who's fault is that?"

"Yours, because you started it."

I tsk, reaching back and pulling out the hair tie. I run my fingers through my hair to remove all twists of the different locks of hair.

"I start a lot of things. The real question is if I am going to decide to finish 'em."

"Are you?"

"Still deciding."

He rolls his eyes, then looks at the small screen that's not nothing but black and white credits. "Well, we didn't finish the movie. I mean, we did, but we didn't watch it."

"We can always watch it again some other time. Now though you need to get a camera and get out so you can take a picture of the outside of this blanket fort."

"I quite like where I am right now. It's a nice view. Might stay here for a bit," He teases, and now it's my turn to roll my eyes.

"Do you actually plan on doing more than just staring?"

"Still deciding," He mocks, and I smile sarcastically at him.

"Funny."

"One of us has to be."

I narrow my eyes in warning, but the look fades as I bring my hand up to stroke his face, and he smiles at the touch, finding comfort in my fingertips sliding across his cheek, stopping just at his hairline.

"I love you," I say again, my voice soft, but still heard. The loving look that Sam gives me back is almost too much. This, him, here, it's something that reminds me that there still are good times. Moments like these are luxuries that I don't always get to have, but when I do, when I see Sam looking at me like this, like I'm the only person in his world, reminds me how good things can be, and how good they are in this small moment.

"And I love you," He replies, his voice just as much of a whisper as mine, as if these words are a secret just for us to hear, as if they haven't been uttered thousands of times before.

He pushes himself up, resting on his knees while I prop myself up on my elbows.

"And now, my love, I'm going to go and take a picture of the outside of this fort, and you can fix the pillows so after I take a picture of the outside I can take one on the inside."

"Okay." I sit up and start grabbing at the strewn about pillows as Sam clambers out of the blanket fort, nearly falling over as he finally stands after having been on his hands and knees for so long. "Are we planning on taking this down or are we sleeping on it and not the bed tonight?"

"Uh, I don't know. I don't think it'll be too bad for our backs because of the pillows-I hope we don't get in trouble for taking the extras from the dorms-but Adora will probably not want to sleep in her crib since we used that as a post to tie up some of the blankets to keep them in place." I hear the soft click of the camera before Sam pokes his head into the fort again. "So would you be okay with her sleeping with us tonight when Maxine and Paula bring her around?"

I shake my head with a soft, content smile. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

A/N: Here you go, guys! I hope you're okay with it being a day late. I basically had a chapter written but was like, I want a happy chapter. So I put the one I wrote in a file for later and wrote this fluffy chapter. I like my Abel residents happy... sometimes. Anyway, please be sure to vote and comment! Thank you and have a blessed day!