Playing the Game Pt 2: The morning after

Warning: NSFW
Who: Aaron and Sam
Where: Sam's apartment
When: Morning

Aaron couldn't remember quite where he was for a moment when he woke, tangled in soft sheets, bare and sore. Light spilled in through the window and he raised his head, blinking away the cobwebs. Oh.... yeah... Girl... whatsername... Aaron realized he didn't know her name, but man was she a freak. He could hear the shower start as he sat up and looked around for his clothes. His underwear weren't too far away and he could see the leg of his pants through the open door. Might be better if he never found out her name. The wild ones are fun, and coming back for more is fun, but sometimes that kind of girl turns out to be a crazy bitch you can't get rid of.

Dressing on the move, pretty much as he had undressed, Aaron took a look around the place. Last night he hadn't been interested in the decor. It looked like a damn museum with all the glass stuff everywhere and tons of things that were only good for looking at. He found his undershirt on the kitchen floor, and had just stood up again when he saw the badge on the counter. He stared at it for a moment, rubbing at a hickey on his shoulder. No. Way. Aaron quickly headed for the living room, looking for his shirt, and encountered the police academy diploma on the mantle. Right next to a picture of Samantha Elizabeth Tyler, police academy graduate, hugging a man who looked distressingly familiar, while another well known face looked on. No. Just... no.

He heard the shower stop, and sort of ran a little circle around the living room looking for his shirt. He seriously needed to get the hell out before.... he froze as she stepped out of the bedroom door, still toweling her hair. Shit.

Sam was not one for long showers, but she ached in places that she hadn't in awhile and the hot water helped. She had considered kicking him out before taking one, but he was still passed out and didn't even move when she got out of bed. So when she came out of her bathroom to see the bedroom empty and clothes gone, she thought he'd gone. She didn't bother grabbing another towel to cover herself up (a good look in the mirror showed finger-shaped bruises on her wrists and quite a few bite-marks and hickeys), just went out into the living room to put on the kettle for coffee.

She didn't notice him standing there immediately, too busy concentrating on drying her hair until she heard the distinct rustle of clothes. And there he was, half dressed, clutching the waistband of his pants, looking like he was caught in the spot light and so she said, "What the fuck are you still doing here?"

"Looking for enough clothes to get out in public without getting arrested." Shit.. he said arrested. Maybe she'd know he had been looking around. He turned one way, then the other, still not catching sight of his shirt. He was in about as rough shape as she was. There were scratch marks down his back and hickeys across his shoulders. And the worst one was high on his neck. No way he'd be able to cover that. "Fuck it." Aaron pulled the undershirt on, zipped his pants, and started working on his belt on the way to the door. At least the bitch didn't think he was her boyfriend. That's a whole different level of crazy.

Okay, she totally fucked a weirdo. Just her luck. Uhg. Not the best way to start the day, but whatever. Sam looked over the living room, looking for any signs of left over belongings and saw a wrinkled shirt and wallet laying on the floor next to the couch. "Um, hey," she said, walking over, unashamed of her nudity. "I think you'll be needing these." She bent down and picked up with shirt and wallet, holding them up. "Unless they're mine now, then, that's fine but the shirt is kind of too big."

Aaron stopped, hand on the doorknob, and looked back at her. Then down at his bare feet, trying to get hold of himself. "Wouldn't happen to have seen my shoes and socks, would you?" He turned back to face her, running both hands through his sleep mussed hair. They guy looked like hell. And he was trying very hard not to take notice of his handiwork. Aaron liked the fingermarks on her wrists. He liked them because he put them there. He found himself staring. She looked amazing. "I.. damn. Can I just get a shower, get my shirt ironed and find my shoes?"

Sam noticed teh staring and yeah, it made her feel a little bit uncomfortable, but then again, she was standing in front of him naked, so she passed it off as just that. "Um, if you want," she said. "Let me just grab some cover up for all this --" she gestured to her face while heading over to the bathroom. "And you can go ahead."

This had to be one of the weirdest morning after conversations ever.

Aaron followed after her, wondering how she would take his urge to touch. He began to strip down again, and had the water started before she left the room. A drink would be nice about now. He didn't normally drink during the day, but drinking did have a way of simplifying things. Aaron watched her walk out, shook his head and hit the shower. Somehow, he doubted she'd have his shirt ironed for him when he got out. This shit wasn't simple, but that didn't mean it had to be all complicated, right? They could probably go years without running into each other again.

Sam looked warily back at the closed bathroom door, wondering if any of her things were in danger. But then, there wasn't much in there that he'd be interested in taking, unless he was one for rouge and lipstick. Considering how weird he was acting, though... "Oh well," she muttered to herself and went about carefully covering up the bruises on her wrists. They weren't all that tender, but she didn't want Jakob noticing and he might be the kind of guy who could ask questions. The bitemark and hickies on her neck were a little more difficult but she managed to get them decently covered.

The shower was still going and Sam was dried off enough that she got dressed. Slacks, suspenders, and a gray silk shirt. She'd leave her hair down today to help cover her neck, leaving it combed straight and simple. She grabbed up her flask, taking a long draw from it as the shower was turning off. His shirt and wallet were on the bed. She didn't even own an iron, preferring to take her clothes to the cleaners for that sort of thing instead. Now he could leave and she wouldn't have to deal with his weirdness again.

Why was he acting so weird anyway? Sam frowned, racking her brain for possibilities when her eyes locked on the pictures up on the mantle. Her diploma from the Academy and pictures of her with her parents and grandfather. Considering she found him in the living room... Shit.

Aaron emerged from the bedroom with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, carrying his pants and but not his shirt. His hair was damp and sticking up, and he was much less ready to walk out the door, but he was calmer. He'd had time to think about things, and figured he'd lived his whole life without ever seeing her, and might live the rest without seeing her again. It's not like she hung out with her family all day or anything. He wasn't one of those guys who went everywhere with the big guys either, so it was more likely she'd see him next time he was arrested or something and that'd be more uncomfortable for her than him, probably.

He strolled out as if he owned the place. Panic gone and confidence restored. His shirt was still a rumpled heap, as he figured it would be. "Where's your iron, Samantha?" Aaron stopped, leaning against the couch for a moment, looking Sam up and down. He didn't like the look. In a girly magazine, maybe, but on a real woman who wasn't planning to take it off, not so much.

Sam looked at him, face harsh and set. "What the fuck did you just call me?" she asked, very calm but it was clear that calling her 'Samantha' was more of an insult than something 'cute'. He was so not doing this, acting like a complete weirdo then getting onto a first name basis with her.

Wow this girl was bitchy. Of course, if she'd called him by his first name, he probably would have backhanded her. Then again, he didn't have stuff with that name on it anywhere that wasn't required by law. He stepped toward her. "It's your name, isn't it?"

She had not had her coffee and in mornings without coffee, it was hit or miss and today,unfortunately for this schmuck, it was a miss. "I don't have any irons, sorry, so off you go." She really didn't want to fire any warning shots, it always made the landlord a little antsy. She kept looking at him, not flirty or scared. Any hint of their escapades were covered up by her clothes and make-up.

"What about hangers? You got those, right?... I guess you go by something else.. Elizabeth? Beth. I like Beth." He grinned at her. Aaron wasn't trying to scare her or flirt. Mostly he was just trying to get a reaction without really thinking about it. He often tossed girls out of his place in the morning when he was done with them, but he didn't much like having it done to him.

If he had been pulling this game the next week, Sam would've shot out his kneecap without hesitation, but it was early still and her patience was more lenient. "Unless you live in the shelter, you have your own hangers." She'd give him one more chance before getting completely serious. Beth? Jesus fucking Christ. What did she look like? A dewy eyed homeless girl looking for the parents who were secretly loaded?

"Not going anywhere looking like I slept in my clothes. I'll hang them in the bathroom with the steam for a little while and that might be passable." Who the hell didn't have an iron? "Not going to tell me your name, huh?" He gave her that infuriating grin again. "Maybe it's better this way. It would cheapen what we had." Yeah. He was screwing with her now. "I'll just remember you as Beth when I'm beating girls at pool."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Good, then that means I'm not going to be tied to a fucking spazzy weirdo for the rest of my days and no, you can't "steam"," She actually used finger quotes to illustrate. "Your clothes in my bathroom. Who do you think you are? Maya Walker? Walk of Shame just not your thing? Baby, deal with it." And then it came. The Giacomo face. The face that Papa Giacamo used when he was absolutely furious. The face that, known to Aaron but not to Sam, was the face he wore when he shot the guy standing next to you as a warning not to fuck up next time. And Sam could mimic it perfectly, always had. She was not a cop, in that moment. She was complete, 100% pissed of Samantha Elizabeth Giacomo.

Aaron did indeed recognize that look, and coming from her, especially after last night... after the way he felt seeing the marks he'd left on her... it made him step toward her, almost snarling in reply. "I can put my dick in your mouth, but can't hang my shirt in your bathroom? Fuck you. You want to see a walk of shame?" Aaron had grabbed his wallet off the bed, leaving the shirt, and now just wadded the rest of his clothes under his arm, and headed for her front door, intending to parade out of her apartment in nothing but a towel, covered in scratches and hickeys.

Christ. Spazzy weirdo drama queen. She sure knew how to pick them, didn't she? And fuck she really needed some coffee. At least if he got arrested, she wouldn't have to deal with him. Well, unless he killed someone. Or if the guy in the lobby... "Fuck," she muttered and went after him. "Hold on a second." She grimaced. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm not a morning person," she explained, still striding after him. "And it's fucking freezing out there and your dick's gonna freeze off." Stop, dammit. Stop right there..

Goddamn slow elevator. He was so pissed off he was shaking as he jabbed the button. He turned on her when she came after him, flexed, chest puffed out. He was furious, and towering over her. "I don't live in a fucking shelter, and even if I did, you fucking brought me here. I know you got what you were after and I did too, but this is bullshit. If you want to keep playing your damn games, I can play rough."

"Games?" she asked, incredulous. "I flirt but I don't play games. Now stop it and I'll let you steam your goddamn shirt and I'll let you have some of my pancakes." She grabbed his arm, her much smaller hand unable to wrap around it and started pulling him back to her apartment.

Her touch made him bare his teeth for a moment, and she could feel muscles ripple under her hand. "First thing you said to me this morning is 'what the fuck are you still doing here'... and you haven't said too much that was nicer than that since. That's a game. You want me to leave, and I'll go, but I'm not walking out looking like a hobo. No reason for this and no reason for you to tell me to stop." He was beginning to calm down she could feel the tension in his arm begin to ease, but he hadn't moved yet.

Although horrendously annoying (and Sam had a passle of younger cousins that she'd had to babysit), his "tantrum" was actually kind of comforting in a familiar sort of way. She shook her head, rubbing his arm and kissed his cheek. If It worked on her cousin Monty, it should work on him in this case. "I'll tell you a secret. Wanna hear a secret?" she asked softly, sweetly with a smile. She was not playing a head game, but now that she had a general idea of what was going on, she felt more comfortable.

Aaron was somewhat mollified by the kiss and further relaxed, but her sweet smile and offer of a secret had him giving her a wary look. "What's that?" He still gave no indication of being willing to go back inside, so he was still in the hallway with a loosely wrapped towel hanging low on his hips.

"You're the first guy I've let sleep over since moving out on my own." Which was true. Before this place, she was living with her parents, so it was harder to get time to spend the night with her old boyfriend, but she wasn't going to mention that. "I'm not a morning person and I saw you weren't in bed and thought you left. Usually I just kick the guys out right after I get off." She kissed his cheek again and started pulling on his arm harder. "Now, how does chocolate chip pancakes sound?"

The first part of that made him smile, just a little. The next bit had him about to ask a fairly lewd question and when he'd processed it fully, he was going to tell her she couldn't have made him leave at that point... then she mentioned pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes. Aaron wisely decided that he could tell her another time that there's no way she could have made him leave. Some time after he was done and had been fed again. The fact that he's making a few assumptions didn't even enter his head. "Pancakes would be great, Beth."

Choosing not to comment on the nickname that she really didn't like, Sam just smiled and nodded and pulled him back to the apartment. "Go hang your shirt up and get dressed, okay? Because I've got to go to work after this." She explained her reasoning before he could make any kind of antagonistic comment. She slid her arms out of her suspenders and went over to the pantry for the ingredients for breakfast. She had Margie's secret recipe for the flapjacks. Guaranteed to melt in your mouth. "So what can I call you besides 'Cowboy'?"

He called over his shoulder as he was heading down the hall. "My name's Aaron." He shook out his pants, grimaced at the way they'd wrinkled from him wadding them up, and grabbed a couple of hangers out of her closet. When he had the shirt and pants on hangers in the bathroom, he started the shower, nice and hot, and walked back out in his boxers and undershirt. "Rumpled up my pants, too. Ever figure out what we did with my shoes?"

At least he wasn't in a towel any more. "Ummm... they might be under the coffee table," she answered somewhat distractedly, carefully measuring out the ingredients, not wanting to screw them up. She'd undone most of the buttons on her shirt and untucked it for comfort, her sleeves rolled up. She was wearing a bra this time. There was nothing flirty behind it and she hoped he would realize that. "If not, they might be under my bed." If he looked under there, he'd find some handcuffs and abandoned clothes under there. Possibly a leather corset that she couldn't find.

For a while he just watched her. It wasn't that he thought she was flirting, it was more that he liked the look of her outfit a lot better that way. Aaron figured his shoes would still be under whatever they were under when he went to get dressed. He moved slowly to stand next to her and gently took one hand in his, turning her wrist and frowning slightly. "Why'd you cover it with makeup? Shirt sleeves would be enough, huh?"

Sam carefully pulled her hand away to start mixing the batter. "I can't go to work at a police station with bruises around my wrists," she said. "My partner would ask questions." Well, that was a lie. She didn't know if Jakob would inquire to finger shaped bruises on her wrists. "That and I just started there yesterday." She hid her yawn against her shoulder and grabbed the container of broken up Hershey candy bar pieces and started putting them in. She tried not to think of how oddly domestic this situation was.

Aaron let her pull her hand away, and when she turned her head to yawn, he bent to kiss the top of her head. Then he asked quietly,"Will you wash it off when you get home?" He wouldn't be there, so it didn't really matter, but it bothered him that she covered it.

Okay. Weird. It was... very sweet, in a way and Sam wasn't entirely sure how she should feel about it, so she settled on 'vaguely creepy'. "Sure," she said, doing incredibly well hiding her slight nervousness that he was going to be there when she came home from work. She made a mental note to get her locks changed, just in case. Getting another dead bolt seemed a little like overkill. She sent him a small smile and grabbed a pan hanging over the stove and slathered it with butter and put on the heat. "The only other place in the city you'll get as good of pancakes as Nighthawk's," she bragged, changing the conversation.

He backed off a little, and shrugged, the moment passed and he snapped out of the odd mood. "Never been there. I usually just stick a can of soup on the hotplate in the morning." He liked good food, but he also liked sleep in and couldn't cook beyond warming things up. This morning was a treat because someone else was going to make good food. Much of his diet usually came from cans.

"You've never been to Nighthawk's?" She asked incredulously. Who in this city hadn't, at one point or another, been there. "Never ever?" She looked quickly back at the three pancakes on the skillet, waiting for the bubbles to start popping in the middle. "Well, these are a Nighthawk's special. It's because of my wonderful skills with pancakes and chocolate that people in this city get to have Hershey's Pancakes. I'd make eggs and sausage too, but I'm sort of out."

"Don't go a lot of places. I work, I shoot pool and I drink. Sometimes I get my neighbor to cook up some pork chops or a steak. He'll do it if I get enough for him." Sometimes he got something good if he was spending time at the Drake, but he wasn't going to mention that. Aaron was just a little defensive because of her tone. She was seriously acting like he was weird when she didn't even have an iron?

He left out the part about now and then meeting a girl in a pool hall. Now and then one of them made him a little more social for a while, but if he was at a party, Aaron was usually there to work. It wasn't that he avoided people, he just didn't go out of his way to be around more of them. Picking up girls was easy enough when he wanted one and he was around people at work. He had people who were friends. He looked down at his bruised and scraped knuckles, turning and flexing his hand a little to avoid looking at Sam. "Smells good."

"Well you should try go the next time you have, well, time." She grasped the handle of the skillet, flipping the pancakes with a flip of her wrist (thank you again, Margie). "Margie'll take care of you. Tell her Sam sent you." Sam gave him a look to emphasize her name. "Grab the plates." She pointed to the cupboard in the corner. "Silverware is in the drawer next to the sink. Do you want anything to drink?" At least he wasn't acting weird any more, just... anti-social.

"Yeah.. I'll do that." Maybe he would go to Nighthawks. He wasn't sure about it, because it sounded like a place where she spent a lot of time and he still didn't think it would be a great idea for them to see too much of each other. "Sam?" No. "No way I'm calling you Sam. Sam is a fat bald fucker, or my brother's dog." He was getting the plates as he spoke. As soon as he set them next to the stove and forks and knives beside them, he backed up, leaning on the counter and watching her. The domestic scene was pretty weird for him. He had some unpleasant associations with this sort of thing, but this wasn't anything like that. The ambivalence made him a little twitchy. "Drink.. yeah. Whatcha got? I'm not picky."

"Margie knows me by Sam, Aaron." Well, she actually called her Sammy, but only Margie or Papa was allowed to call her that. "I've got milk, water, orange juice, and grape juice. I ran out of coffee." Not that she kept much in the apartment to begin with. She carried the skillet over and slid the three pancakes onto one of the plates. "There you go." She grinned up at him. Syrup and honey are in the jars there." She pointed to the end of the kitchen counter, a jar shaped like a honey bee and a glass bottle of maple syrup. "Sit! Eat. I can make plenty more."

Aaron took the plate, grinning like a kid. He scooped up the bottles on the way to the table, then went back to get a glass of milk. He was a big guy, and he didn't get fed decently very often, so he made short work of the pancakes, after drowning them in syrup. His grin was a little sheepish when he looked up at her again, licking his fingers, which were sticky. "Guess I was hungry." Actually, he was still hungry.

"Then I guess it's a good thing I'm making more." She actually felt a little bad that she didn't have any bacon or eggs. "Umm... there's apples in the 'fridge too." A quick flick of the wrist and three more pancakes found themselves on Aaron's plate. She'd make him another three and there'd be enough left over for herself. If not, she'd just grab something on the way. "Is there anything else you'd like?"

The way he sucked down those pancakes embarrassed him a little. "Got enough for that?" He didn't want to take her breakfast. But then, when she asked if there was anything else he wanted, there was a slight pause, and then slowly, a smile came to his face that had none of the sweet innocence of his embarrassed grin from a few minutes before.

Sam ended up only having enough for two more pancakes, and judging by the silence (as she didn't notice his smile), she figured he was still eating and she slid the final two pancakes onto his plate for him. "So?" she asked, hesitant now with the smile on his face.

He had seen her scrape the last of the batter into the pan and knew that was the last of it. He reached up and pulled Sam into his lap. "You gotta eat too, Beth." Aaron wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her there, unless she tried to gut him with her spatula, or something, which wasn't entirely outside the realm of possibility. "Sure you need to run off to work right away?"

She looked down at the large and not altogether uncomfortable arms slung around her waist and then back at his face, which was rather close to hers. He looked tired, with some circles under his eyes and she could see large hickey on his jaw line. He needed to shave too. She hated to admit it, but he looked rather cute and endearing, grinning up at her like that and she reached around and pet his head. She hoped it didn't come off like she was patting him on the head like a puppy, but he seemed like a puppy needing to be pet on the head. Then out of insinct, her fingers started massaging his head, carefully moving back to rub soothing circles behind his ears. "My partner just has one working arm right now. I do need to go in today." And she needed to get him hazelnut coffee and maybe she'd try the cinnamon pasties today.

His grin widened when she patted his head, and then faded slowly with the massaging. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on her a little. "Nnn... dammit. Can he wait maybe half an hour longer?"

"Why?" she asked with a smile, unable to help but lean against him a little more as she kept massaging his head. She was a little annoyed at the fact that he was making her toes curl. She blamed it on the amazing sex they had earlier and no, she was not afraid to admit that the sex had been absolutely amazing. It should've been. She was involved after all. Therefore sex already had a very good chance of being good. Her other hand moved and started tracing circles around one of his nipples, her smile still innocent and sweet even though his eyes were closed.

His eyes remained closed as he raised a hand to her face and pulled her in for a kiss. Not the sort of kisses he gave her last night, though. He kissed her like he meant it this time.

Sam responded easily, tilting his head back with her hand tangled in his hair. It was nice, much softer than it had been earlier and she wasn't going to complain. She pulled away after a few moments. "The shower is still on."

She pulled away and he opened his eyes. He had meant to go turn the shower off before he sat down to eat. "Shit... we can turn it off on our way to the bedroom." He sincerely hoped he had managed to talk her into staying just a while.

"You can turn it off. You're the one who turned it on and left it on." Sam smirked at him and carefully extracted herself from his arms. "I should really get to work." She should. She really, really should.

He let his hands wander a little as she got up out of his lap. She really should. That meant she probably wouldn't. Aaron stood, reaching to pull her in and draw her with him down the short hallway. "I'll help you.." He kissed the point of her jaw, just below her ear. "...get ready."

"I'm dressed though," she murmured, the tingling going up from her toes and up her spine. The shivering went through her limbs and she knew, dimly, that he could feel her shaking against him, his hot breath on her neck and cheek. She took his hands, moving them to her stomach to the line of buttons. It was unconscious. Sam didn't even realize she had done it. That she was encouraging him.

That was all the encouragement he needed. One hand went under the shirt, while the other worked at the buttons. He wasn't thinking about turning off the shower as they passed the bathroom door. He didn't think about it again until an hour later when she put the phone down and let out a string of curses. It was going to be a very busy day for Homicide.