Coming Home (Eva)

[Sam O'Connor]

The decision to leave the Venia was probably the hardest decision Sam had ever made in his life. After five months of slaving away in the kitchen on board, getting to know the crew, laughing and joking, chatting, making friends (probably for life), all the excitement, it was difficult to go back to the relatively normal life he'd had before. But it wasn't just that, he was leaving two very important people behind; Zoe, and Eva.

Truth be told, it was hard to leave both of them. He knew he'd see Zoe again, she'd come and visit, and they'd go travelling or whatever when she got leave. But with Eva, everything was uncertain, and when she hadn't turned up to see him off when he'd left on the shuttle, it had torn his heart apart. But what did he expect really? He had broken her heart too.

After spending a couple of weeks at home with his Grandparents and other family members, he began to feel unsettled. It wasn't that he didn't love the place any more, it would always have a place in his heart, his achy breaky heart, but after everything on the Venia, it felt small and slow, somewhere to come for a holiday to relax, not a place to live.

His Uncle set up a meeting with an acquaintance in London who was looking to open a new restaurant and the man practically jumped at the chance of having Sam on his staff, offering him the job as Head Chef. Without really considering it, figuring that he'd practically been running his own kitchen for months now, he accepted, and they started the final stages before the restaurants launch.

It took a little while, but once they started getting regular customers in, who were willing to spread the word to their friends of the quality of the restaurant, they started getting fully booked several nights a week. Out the front, everything was running smoothly, but behind that kitchen door, Sam was struggling with all sorts of problems.

Firstly, it was easy enough to just manage him and the tasks he had to do in the kitchen by himself, even when he was doing the work of several people, but when it came to making sure everyone functioned together and completed their different tasks as a whole - that was tricky. It took a long time for things to flow properly, how they kept it together until then, Sam didn't really know.

Also, there was a consensus among at least half the staff that he was too young to be running his own kitchen, despite his talent. People gave him stick, and he'd lost count of the amount of times he'd had to yell to keep everything in order. He'd gone from being mild-mannered and cheerful, to frustrated, stressed, and angry. Coming to work wasn't a pleasure anymore; it was difficult and required all of his concentration to make sure everything was perfect.

Then there was Julie, the nineteen year old soup chef. He'd hired her because the flavour of her soups had been out of this world, but he hadn't realised the potential for what happened the longer she worked with him - she grew a crush on him. It started innocently, her asking for tips on how to make her recipes better, asking him to check that it tasted all right, but escalated to a point where Sam had to order her to stay in her corner of the kitchen or risk being fired. He felt smothered; interacting with her outside of the kitchen wasn't fun at all, and they didn't have anything in common. Neither intensive games of basketball nor trips to the gym could relieve him of any of the stress. It was all becoming too much.

It all came to a head one evening, nearly a year since he'd left the Venia; Sam was more stressed than he had been in all his life. They'd been fully booked for a month, there was practically no time to think, let alone sleep any more. A particularly picky customer had sent the same meal back twice, when there was clearly nothing wrong with it - he was surprised they hadn't just got up and left. And Julie was sulking; he could hear her sniffling from the other side of the kitchen.

Retreating to his office once they'd finished serving food, leaving the others to clean their stations and set up for the following day, he smacked his head down against his desk, letting out a silent scream that made his whole chest ache. He couldn't take it anymore, it was too much. He was losing himself, and he hated it. Grinding his forehead against the table, he was surprised to find that even after all this time, there was only one person he wanted to talk to, only one person he wanted to see.

In possibly the most reckless move he'd ever made, he walked out of the kitchen that evening and never went back. What he'd originally thought was the job of a lifetime turned into something that he happily walked away from, and with his new found freedom he decided that there was something that wanted and needed to do; find Eva.

She wasn't on the Venia anymore; he found that out fairly quickly. People on board were surprisingly keen to help even though he'd been gone for so long, Hollie especially. Within no time he had an address was on his way.

It was pouring down with rain when his shuttle landed, and late on in the evening due to the change in time zone. He caught a cab from the airport out to the coast where she was supposed to be living now. As the cab drew to a halt outside the house, Sam took a deep breath. There was no way to mentally prepare for this; it could go so many different ways. But he had to see her.

The driver handed him his bag, and he made the journey up to the front of the house. After hovering there for a moment, he rang the bell.

Sometimes, you don't realise what you have been missing. As Sam stood on the doorstep, every inch of his body soaked from the rain, he caught his first glance of Eva as she pulled open the wooden door; what he had been missing hit him like a high speed train. And what were originally droplets of rain on his face became tears.

He had been such a fool to leave.

[Evangeline Irvine]

Eva’s life had been a rollercoaster since leaving the Venia behind. No, that was inaccurate--a rollercoaster implied that there were high-points. It had been more like a train, moving fast enough that she couldn’t enjoy the view, and slow enough that she could no longer recall its destination. She just kept going through the motions, each day rarely deviating from the one preceding it. There was no variety, no colour. Just images too blurred to pay attention to and an unwavering path to follow.

If she were to be completely honest with herself, she’d admit that this listless ride had actually started a week before she’d left, when Sam had told her he couldn’t stay on the Venia anymore. It hadn’t been that much of a surprise, given how shaken he’d been after the incident with Louise and Theo, but it had still broken her. She’d trusted him, enough to give him her heart, and then he’d turned around and left her to pick up the shattered pieces. She’d hadn’t been able to find the strength to see his shuttle off; she’d been too afraid she’d fall to tears and cling to him, begging him to stay.

Not long after his departure, UGAP had offered her a proper position aboard the ship as a tactical officer. Eva had turned them down. She’d needed to get away--everything, everyone, on the Venia had reminded her of Sam. Instead of losing her, they’d asked her if perhaps she’d stay on as a liaison. Not seeing many other options to choose from, she had agreed, and the next day had been shipped off on a shuttle to Gold Coast, Australia to take up residence in a pre-paid house.

From there on out, it had been nothing but meetings with dignitaries and ample amounts of conferring with other liaisons, as well as an endless income of paperwork, throughout the week, and quiet weekends spent at home. Once in a while one of her neighbours would invite her over for one thing or another--a movie night, a barbeque, even a New Years Eve party--and while she wasn’t adverse to it, she found it difficult to truly enjoy herself. She wasn’t as fond of being alone as she’d once been, but their company did little for her. Eventually, they stopped asking.

Now, almost a year after the defeat of R4, Eva found herself curled up on her couch, nursing a mug of tea as she watched ancient re-runs of a show she couldn’t name. It was supposed to be a sit-com, but the most it could merit from her was a quirk of the lips so small that it could hardly be considered a smile. Then again, she wasn’t paying the closest attention. She was too busy listening to the rain as it fell steadfastly outside, a relaxing din that almost drowned out the sound of her doorbell.

Wondering who in the world would be making a house-call in this weather, she set down her mug and shut off the TV before climbing to her feet and heading for the door. Within seconds, she’d flipped the locks and pulled back the wood. The sight of him was like being hit by a semi. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It was all she could do to stay standing as she stared, wide-eyed, at the drenched figure in front of her.

“…Sam?”

And then, with a stifled sob, Eva threw herself into his arms. She was laughing. She was crying. She wanted to kill him. Instead, she pushed up on her toes and kissed him. It was possible that he had moved on and was seeing someone these days, and no longer felt that way about her, but it didn’t matter. More to the point, she didn’t care. She loved him, had never stopped loving him, and this time, she wasn’t about to let him go.

[Sam O'Connor]

It had taken Sam a long time to realise that Eva was his home now. That's why he hadn't been able to settle back in when he'd gone to his Grandparents in Portaferry. They say home is where the heart is, well his heart with her; it had been since the day she stepped foot on the Venia, maybe even that day on Beta Cygni when he'd had to jog away across the beach. She held his heart in her hands, and only she had the power to crush it or (he dared to hope) make it complete.

He stood there, trying to gauge the expression on her face. She looked shocked, which was acceptable considering she'd probably thought that she'd never see him again, but he couldn't tell whether it was a good or bad shocked. There was a pain in her eyes, evident when she'd first opened the door, but it looked almost as if it had lifted when she'd registered who it was who was calling on her at this ungodly hour, and in what appeared to be a monsoon.

And then she did something that made his heart soar to the highest heavens; gave him his first kiss.

His hand wove itself into her soft blonde hair, the other at her waist, as he returned the kiss he'd been waiting an eternity for; the fact that it was from Eva made it entirely worth the wait. There had been no hesitation from her, and certainly not from him either, this was the woman he wanted to be with. He'd known that back on the Venia, but had let his paranoia and fears get the better of him, drive him away from Eva's love. He wouldn't do that ever again.

Somewhat reluctantly, Sam broke the contact of their lips, resting his forehead upon hers as he gently brushed her hair behind her ear. "Memories don't do you any justice," he said, his Irish lilt somewhat faded, "you're so much more beautiful here in my arms." He couldn't help it, he kissed her again, an effort to make up for all the time they'd missed.

"I'm sorry," he said, stroking her cheek, "for leaving you." He needed to make this apology, he'd had a long time to mull over what he would say, but he found that the right words just tumbled out of his mouth, rather like the tears still falling from his eyes. "I was a complete and an unmitigated arse for letting something like what happened push me away and I can only hope that you'll forgive me." Even if that kiss hadn't been a big enough sign that he was on the right track just by turning up at her door, he wanted to know that he could make things better, that he could be forgiven.

[Evangeline Irvine]

The feel of Sam’s lips on hers, his fingers in her hair, the other hand on her waist, all left Eva feeling giddy and breathless. This was real. He was actually here, holding her, kissing her. Even soaked through with rain as he was, she was able to detect the scent of cooking-spices and hair-product that was, very distinctly, Sam. Oh, how she’d missed it--missed him. When he broke away she had to bite back a small whine of complaint, but at his words her face was graced with a smile. The warm tenor of his voice was absolutely perfect.

“Don’t…” she murmured, almost inaudibly, when he started to apologize. He didn’t seem to hear her, the words pouring from him faster than he seemed to be able to keep up with. Running her fingertips across his tear-stained cheek, Eva shook her head. “Sam, don’t,” she repeated, her voice clearer this time, “Please, don’t tell me you’re sorry. You don’t have to be. You did what was right for you, and I can’t blame you for that.” Yes, it had hurt like hell for her, but that was beside the point. After all, he was here now, wasn’t he?

She took a couple of minutes to steal a few more kisses before whispering that she loved him, at which point she pulled herself closer to him and simply buried her face in his neck. Idly she wondered if he could he tell the difference between the rain and her own tears. It took Eva a moment to notice that he was no longer the only one who looked like they’d jumped into a lake with their clothes on. Stepping back with a chuckle, she took one of his hands in hers and tugged his arm gently.

“Come on. Grab your things so we can head inside.” Giving his hand an affectionate squeeze, she then turned and lead the way into the house, gesturing for him to wait for her in the living-room, stopping by the linen closet to grab an armful of towels before joining him. They’d change later. First, she wanted to talk to him. “So what exactly brought you down under, anyway? I thought you’d gone and opened your own restaurant?” she started, handing him a piece terry-cloth. “Not that I’m complaining or anything.”

[Sam O'Connor]

"Too late now," Sam said with a slight smile, referring to his apology. He understood that she knew why he left, but he didn't feel like it excused him from doing what he had done to her. He'd been selfish; he could have worked something out instead of just leaving her behind. He hadn't been thinking straight, and he was truly sorry for that. But he didn't apologise any further, she didn't want to hear it, and he'd much rather talk about other things now that the silence and the tension had been broken.

Holding her tightly, he told her that he loved her too. He never wanted to let go, to let her go. The chill of the cool night air against his damp face and sodden clothes told him that it might be a wise idea to at least get inside out of the rain, because if he was cold, then Eva would most certainly be now that he and rain had managed to drench her as well. It was almost clichéd, declaring your love for someone in the pouring rain, but it didn't matter, not when he truly meant it. The idea brought a smile to his lips.

"Yes ma'am," he smiled, reaching down to pick up his duffel bag as her hand found it's all too familiar position of being enclosed in his. He left his bag in the hallway where the water on it wouldn't do too much damage, same went for his coat, then huddled in the middle of the living room, looking around at the place. Seemed the UGAP liked to keep their liaisons in nice living spaces. It was quite a modern house, decorated in quite a neutral fashion. He could just about see a decent sized kitchen through a doorway to the left, and he imagined the view out of the bay windows was beautiful when the sun came up and you could actually see the ocean.

Eva returned with the towels, and he wrapped it tightly round his broad shoulders, feeling immediately warmer. "What brought me down under?" he couldn't help but chuckle a little, his wet hair dripping beads of water down the back of his neck, "well, it certainly wasn't the weather." Stepping out of his shoes, which had acted rather like sponges out there in the rain, he looked at her. "You, of course."

"As for the restaurant," he scratched the back of his head slightly, "that didn't exactly go to plan. Turns out running a kitchen full of egotistical Suez chefs and one hormonal teenager isn't exactly all it's cracked up to be. I quit about a week ago. That was when I started looking for you." He wouldn't have been able to find her without help from the crew, he was grateful that they'd been so willing to point him in the right direction. Turned out people really did like the chef.

"What about you?" he asked, "how did you end up in the magical land of Aus?"

[Evangeline Irvine]

A laugh bubbling up her throat at Sam’s remark about the weather, Eva reached over and mussed his wet hair, giggling again as the action sent droplets of water flying every which-a-way. “It’s the middle of autumn here,” she pointed out, grinning, “what did you expect?” Her expression softened at his following explanation. The way he said it so plainly was rather bold for the Sam she remembered, but then again, it had been a year. For a moment she wondered if she seemed any different herself, but pushed the thought to the wayside and gave him her full attention.

She should have been prepared for Sam to return the question, but she wasn’t. Her eyes ended up falling to her feet as she tried to figure out a way to explain without coming across as clingy or pathetic. Remembering the other couple of towels she’d brought out, she set about spreading them out on the floor for the two of them to sit on. After seating herself in a comfortable cross-legged position, she folded her hands in her lap and finally met his eyes again. She pursed her lips.

“After… well, with R4 gone, I guess I felt out of place on the Venia. UGAP didn’t want to see me go--telepaths in skirts are a hot commodity, apparently--so they tagged me as a liaison. I agreed, which, on reflection, was sort of a stupid idea. Ever since they’ve been running me ragged with this and that. Great way to meet all the stuffed-shirt government officials, this job is.” Wow. That was probably the most she’d said in one sitting in about a month. Then again, Sam had always been able to coax out her garrulous side.

After a moment, she bumped his leg with her foot and glanced over at his duffel bag. “So, Sammy,” she said, smiling again as the pet-name rolled easily off her tongue, “How many days did you pack for?” Indirect, and not very obvious, but it was her way of asking him to stay with her. Besides, it wasn’t as thought her washing-machine was off-limits or anything, which made the number of outfits he’d brought with him entirely inconsequential in any event.

[Sam O'Connor]

Jesus, he'd missed that laugh. Hearing it used to be one of the highlights of his day, and he'd actively set out to make her giggle at every possible moment. Now that they were here, together again, he could resume some hilarity; find that sense of humour he'd been lacking of late. "Well, it is Australia," he smirked, "my naivety believed that it was sunny all year round. Guess it knows better now." He should have been used to the rain, having lived in Northern Ireland most of his life, yet he hadn't expected it to follow him here.

Eva hadn't changed a bit. No, that was a lie. She was more radiant than ever. He was interested to know whether the year had treated her any better than it had treated him. Her hesitation suggested not, but he let her get round to her answer in her own time. Seating himself down on the towels she'd laid out, he tugged the towel from his shoulders, running it through his hair. He probably looked like he'd been struck by lightning now, not that it mattered, it would probably earn a laugh. He also peeled his damp black shirt off, leaving the relatively dry white t-shirt underneath. "That's better." The lingering day time heat in the house was keeping him warm enough.

Sam chuckled at her answer, "I don't doubt that they are," he said, "if I was running the United Government of Allied Planets, I'd want more than one of you running around. Not sure I'd be willing to let you go with the stuffed-shirt government officials though." It had never been hard to compliment Eva, but it was a lot easier now he could be completely open about its meaning; that he found her to be an amazing woman and he loved her. "I'd imagine the skirt is a step-up from the cat suit though."

A grin fell across his face as she called him Sammy, ironically, another thing he had missed. Gone were the days when calling him Sammy would earn you a mouth full of sand-box contents, now he wanted Eva to call him by the pet-name, he enjoyed it. He raised an eyebrow at her question. "Well, that duffel bag was made for Mary Poppins," he said, "a bottomless pit of never ending clothes, so I'd imagine there's an outfit in there for every day for the rest of my life." He smiled, leaning forward to kiss her on the lips, "was that the answer you were looking for?"

[Evangeline Irvine]

“Never thought the ‘do was natural,” Eva teased, smirking at the way Sam’s hair was sticking out now that he’d run a towel over it. It was rather comical, if unintentional. As he spoke, her smirk bled into an amused smile, and the smile then led way into a fit of giggles. Laughing again--the proper, belly-aching kind--felt marvellous. All she’d meant by skirts was that she was a female, but bringing up the cat-suit joke was too great an opportunity to pass up. “Ah, yes, definitely better than the cat-suit,” she agreed, nodding. “Manoeuvrability is effected at times, but it’s more stylish by far.”

She didn’t miss that he’d started grinning when she called him Sammy, and she smiled in response. It must have been ages since someone had used that name, for him to actually like it. Or maybe he’d liked it because she had been the one to say it? Even if it wasn’t true, it was still a pleasant thought. That said, it came nowhere close to how she felt at hearing his answer to her question.

There was a brief pause as she scrambled to phrase something even minutely understandable, but with the way she was beaming, talking didn’t seem to be an option. And so, with a sound that weighed in somewhere between a laugh and a shriek, Eva lunged at Sam, tackling him onto his back. She merely lavished his face in kisses for a time, each peck punctuated by her incessant giggling, before at long last she sought out his lips kissed him and until need of oxygen pulled them apart.

“Sorry,” she chuckled as she broke away, clambering off him and settling back on her towel, “Being relatively alone for a year does strange things to a girl. Although I suppose this isn’t the first time I’ve attacked you, now is it?” Probably wouldn’t be the last, either. Finding one of his hands, she held onto it and smiled at him brightly. A whole year without him, and now he was here, offering to stay with her forever. The thought was somewhat dizzying to try and wrap her head around.

“Well, now that I’ve stopped ravishing you, shall we go and change into some dry clothes? Then we can resume our conversation in the kitchen--I’ve got tea.”

[Sam O'Connor]

"Oh, one hundred percent," Sam nodded with faux earnestly, "I just stick my head out the window into the rain every morning, rub it on the bath mat, and leave it as it is - it looks pretty fabulous, no?" Oh wow, he couldn't help laughing at that one himself. Eva brought out the best side of him, his humorous side, and his happy side. It was a wonder he'd survived the year without her. He would hate to see a video of the time he spent without her, even worse, he would hate for her to see it. It wasn't pretty, not at all.

He was glad she'd remembered about the cat suit too - how could she not? She had been the one wearing the thing. "I bet it's reversing that's hindered, isn't it? With the skirt? We could add reversing lights and wing mirrors but then you might not be able to pass through door frames." He grinned again, "but yes, far more stylish," he agreed, "not that you couldn't work a cat-suit, use it to your advantage, but I'd have to follow you around, pushing the mouths of all the males you passed closed, and I might become somewhat cumbersome myself."

Eva's reaction to his answer made him laugh out loud as she tackled him to the ground with a great cry of delight. Oh yes, it was the right answer. He returned the kisses as fervently as she delivered them, enjoying the fact that her attacking him now came with a free extra. Free extras, rather. "Oh, don't apologise," he beamed, "believe me, being somewhat alone for a year did strange things to this girl too." He poked his tongue out at her teasingly, chuckling away.

Stroking her hand gently with his thumb, he smirked, "I never asked you to stop ravishing me," he pointed out, "but yes, you're probably right." Climbing to his feet, he offered her a hand up. "Ladies first," he gestured for her to go in the direction of wherever her bedroom was, before heading out in the hall to grab his bag. He was probably safe enough changing in the lounge, considering he didn't know where the bathroom was.

Making sure to change out of his jeans first, and into some dry ones, he pulled his shirt off, rooting around in his soggy duffel bag for a clean t-shirt. He knew he shouldn't have packed them in the bottom.

[Evangeline Irvine]

How was it possible that a whole year had gone by? Being with Sam like this, it was like they’d never been apart. Goofy smiles, raucous giggles, playful banter--it was all just as outstanding as ever. And now kisses had been added to the equation, an definite bonus. “It’s also fairly annoying when your skirt snags on the side of the vent,” Eva joked, her lips curling up at the corners, “then it either tears, a major fashion faux-pas, or you’re stuck until you can get it uncaught. Trust me when I say that wriggling around in a metal tunnel isn’t exactly the quietest thing in the world.”

His following comment was rewarded with a bark of laughter, and she had to press her lips together to stop herself from grinning like an idiot. Not that it would have made much a difference, as that was basically what she’d been doing since he’d arrived. “Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got a strong jaw then, isn’t it?” she quipped, smirking coquettishly as she added, “Or, at least, you will, what with the copious amounts of exercise it’ll be getting.” The kissing-fest that followed added testament to her words.

Taking Sam’s offered hand gratefully, Eva got to her feet and headed off to change. It was a simple matter of shedding her wet clothes and pulling on a sweater-dress. It was warm, and it was comfortable--what more could she need? She then headed back out to see where Sam had gotten to, and came to a standstill at the sight of him digging through his bag. Her eyes roamed over him appreciatively as she leaned against the doorway, and a devilish glint lit up in her eyes.

She alerted him of her presence with a wolf-whistle. “Been working out, have you?” she asked, instinctively erupting in a fit of quiet snickers when he looked at her. She couldn’t help it. Giggling seemed almost second nature when Sam was around. Turning, she led the way into the kitchen, grabbing her abandoned mug of tea as she passed it. It was barely warm anymore, but she didn’t mind. “You want anything, Sammy?” A teasing, though slightly nostalgic, smile. “Milk and cookies, maybe?”

[Sam O'Connor]

It was amazing how easy it was to fall back into old patterns, especially with Eva, it was effortless. There was this constant need for him to see her smile. And when she did, it made his whole life light up; she was the sunshine for his soul. "I can imagine," he snickered, "I can't imagine, however, having to drop into a meeting from the ventilation shaft and apologise for all the racket you've been making. Sort of gives away the element of surprise."

Sam's eyebrows went up and down a couple of times in a rather suggestive manner, and he laughed. "You have plans for me and my mouth slash jaw area already I see," he said, grinning like a idiot, "well, I can't say it isn't in need of a work out, nor will it refuse one, if that is what you wish." It couldn't be denied, he was one lucky boy. If you had told him all those years ago that the blonde beauty in front of him now would be peppering him with kisses in a decade's time, he would have snorted juice all over you and laughed until he was blue in the face. Turned out it wasn't such an unrealistic idea.

He raised his head as the wolf-whistle came from the doorway, a smirk already upon his face before she'd even opened her mouth. "However could you tell?" he replied, straightening, and patting his abdomen. What had been mostly skin and bone was now distinctively muscle. Apparently, if you worked hard enough as you got older, that puppy fat turned into something which women found one hell of a lot more attractive.

"Would you prefer I walked around the house like this?" he chortled as he finally found a t-shirt, pulling it over his head as he followed her into the kitchen, finding the sleeves with his hands now that he could see, slipping his arms through. He let a laugh burst forth when she suggested milk and cookies. "You know, I never actually got to eat those cookies," he said, "Louise arrived before they could move from the table to my mouth. They went back in the tin and I never saw them again. Scarred me for life it did."

Sam shook his head slightly, chuckling, "you are talking to a chef remember, did you really think I would come without food?" Scooting back through into the living room, he delved back into the Mary Poppins duffel bag and pulled out a tub full of chocolate frosted cupcakes, before bringing them back to Eva in the kitchen. "If you'd shut the door in my face, I was going to set these on the doorstep and let the smell entice you back out again," he smirked, "it was a cunning plan, glad I didn't have to put it into action."

[Evangeline Irvine]

“That’s entirely up to you,” Eva chimed, entertained by Sam’s proposal, “But if you do plan to walk around like that, warn me--I’ll need to close the curtains. No need to go sharing the view with some lecherous passer-by.” She shot a sly glance back at him as he pulled a shirt on. “They can find their own Sammy. Well, they can try, anyway. Somehow I don’t think they’ll be very successful, though. You’re sort of a one of a kind.” And by some fluke of fate, she’d been lucky enough to meet him.

She snorted at his remark about the cookies, shaking her head as she set her cool tea down on the counter. “I wouldn’t be too broken up about it, were I you. Those cookies were dry as hell, not to mention slightly burnt on the bottom, and had a little too much vanilla them. As dexterous as Louise was, she was hardly gifted when it came to baking.” Neither was Eva, to be honest, but there hadn’t exactly been a culinary course at the R4 training facility.

Quirking an eyebrow curiously, Eva watched as Sam went to fetch something from his duffel bag, returning moments later with the aforementioned food. As it turned out, they were cupcakes. “Ah, yes,” she said, grinning broadly at him, “There isn’t a woman in this galaxy that could resist the overwhelming temptation of your cooking.” Swiping a cupcake, she nibbled on it contentedly, her eyes falling shut in happiness. “Mmm, you have no idea how I’ve suffered without your food, Sam.”

Upon finishing she took the tin from him and set it down on the table before snatching one of his hands. “So, Mister Poppins,” she joked, smiling, “shall I treat you to the grand tour?” It wasn’t that hard to find one’s way around the house, but it would help if he at least had an idea of where things were. And so, without waiting for his response, she led the way back out into the main hall.

“First door on your left here is the main bathroom,” Eva began, flicking on the light. The décor was largely beige--neutral and warm--but there were also candles here and there, and plenty of soaps and bath salts. She’d even accumulated an a small make-up collection. Glancing at Sam, she shrugged. “It might be a tad… feminine, for your tastes. I happened to bump into the girly-girl inside me, and on a whim let her out of her cage. She went a little cuckoo in here.”

Turning the light back off, they continued on, Eva showcasing each room with one-liners and brief explanations. They’d just passed the study, which was a miniature library in its own right, and were now standing in front of the gym door. She paused, chuckling nervously, and rubbed the back of her neck. “Er, this is the gymnasium,” she said, though she didn’t go in, “It’s… sort of a mess right now. I came home from work angry yesterday and… well, I trashed the place.”

“Trashed” being an understatement. She’d split at least two punching bags, and unless they’d fallen throughout the course of the day there were probably still a few shurikens stuck in the ceiling.

Hastily steering him onward (and making a mental note to dedicate herself to tidying the place up the next time she had a day off as she did so), Eva brought them to the T-intersection at the end of the hall. “To your right is the guest room,” she said, though she pulled him with her as she turned left instead, “and this here is the master bedroom.” Rooting around for the light-switch, she then happily pitched herself head-first onto her duvet. Her next words were muffled by the pillow her face was smothered in. “That’s about it, I think.”

[Sam O'Connor]

"How voyeuristic of them," Sam replied with a smirk, straightening the neck line of the shirt so it wasn't completely squiffy, "if I'd known you had such nosy neighbours, I would have hidden behind the couch to change. They don't have binoculars, do they?" He grinned across at her. It was strange, the ways in which the last year had changed him. He certainly wouldn't have entertained the idea of walking around in front of the windows shirtless twelve months ago. He beamed when she said he was one of a kind, "aren't you the lucky one?"

With a snort, he said, "yes, I can imagine she, like you, was a lot defter at throwing knives than using them." She seemed delighted at the sight of the sugary goodness, practically salivating. He knew he was, he hadn't eaten in hours. "It’s a wonder more people haven't come banging on my door, demanding food on pain of being mobbed." The look on her face as she munched away was truly wonderful. She enjoyed his food so much better than everyone else did. "I can imagine. Ready meals, biosynthesisers? God forbid, fast food," he teased her slightly. If he was honest, his cooking had taken the strain these last few months; he'd been losing his flair and talent along with himself. But he was sure that he'd be able to locate it again, especially now he was here with Eva.

"Why, Miss Irvine, I'd be delighted," he chuckled, as she seized a hand and proceeded to drag him around the house, pointing out all the rooms. "Aha, could have done with knowing this earlier," he said as they came across the bathroom, "it might have saved your neighbours an eyeful. Although, for some reason, I don't think you minded," he side glanced her, giving her a smirk. Yes, he had seen the looks she'd been giving him. He couldn't really say anything about it, he goggled over her divinity every day.

The girliness wasn't a problem. He'd had women in his life... all his life really. And his Nan had dominated the bathroom at home anyway. He was somewhat used to frills and fluffy pink things. How his Grandpa had let her get away with it, he had never really known. "Hulked out, did you?" he said, raising his eyebrows, "well, I'm sure we can tag team to sort it out. You have a telekinetic in the house now. No item too heavy, no feat too large." He snickered, "that's f-e-a-t, feat. Don't mention the size of my feet; they're sensitive to that sort of thing."

It seemed Eva had no intentions of showing him the guest bedroom, throwing herself into her own bed, letting out a muffled conclusion to their tour. "Well, that was most splendid," he said, imitating his Grandpa's fantastic Surrey accent. Seizing his chance as she couldn't see him coming (hear him, by thoughts and with her ears yes, but he was hoping to catch her somewhat unawares), he reached over and began tickling her ribs, laughing as he did so. He'd missed being able to do this, be this close with someone. The last person before Eva that had touched him had been Julie reaching up to feel his hair. That'd been a little more than creepy.

Relenting, he flopped down onto the bed beside her, stretching his arms up, pulling them behind his head. "Mmmm, this is comfy," he said, wriggling around a little, his skinny hips barely moving. He looked down at her with a warm smile, he couldn't help himself. "I love you," he said, knowing how amazing it felt hearing those words leave his lips. "Even when you turn green and destroy your own gym."

[Evangeline Irvine]

Eva chortled as Sam listed off some of the lesser means of sustenance she could have been relying on during the last year, shaking her head forebodingly as she said, “Oh, no, it’s been far, far worse than that, my dear Sam. I’ve been trying to live off my own cooking.” Pulling a tragic expression she added mockingly, “Once you battle past the gag-reflex, I suppose it’s not that bad, but…” She couldn’t help it, she broke up after that. “All the same, I truly have missed your cooking.”

They went along with the tour then, Sam making a witty quip about her previous ogling. She offered him a coy smile and a wink before pressing on. “‘Hulked out’?” she echoed, one brow curving upward as she tried not to laugh. “Well, I suppose that’s one way to put it. Evangeline Irvine after a meeting with not one, not two, but three uppity dignitaries: a hazard to herself as well as her poor, poor gym.” She’d gladly accept his offer to help tidy up, however--assuming he didn’t balk out when he actually saw what she’d done to the place.

With the tour over and her face buried in pillows, Eva heaved a satisfied sigh. She hadn’t felt this at ease in over a year. Though she’d had ample reason to be stressed from the outset--not just because Sam had left, though that had been a large part of it, but because of the aftershocks of R4, and then all the duties that came with being a liaison--she’d also had time to unwind and collect herself. She simply hadn’t bothered. It was nice to finally be able to correct that, even if it was long overdue.

Footsteps announced that Sam was approaching the bed, and Eva was about to lift her head to look at him when his fingers found her ribs. She squealed and curled in on herself, laughing as she batted at his hands in a feeble attempt to get him to desist. “S-stop it, Sam!” she giggled, her words only half-hearted and bit off with a yelp of shrill laughter. Goofing off was a lovely change from her usual activities. That Sam knew exactly where to tickle her to make her writhe only made it more entertaining.

When he finally stopped and flopped down next to her, she took a moment to catch her breath, wiping the tears from her eyes. It took her a few seconds to calm down. Once she had, however, she shifted up on the bed and curled into his side, tucking her head under his chin. He told her he loved her again then, and she smiled. Reaching up, she gently pried one of his hands out from behind his head and brought it down to press it flat against her chest, her heartbeat singing against his palm.

“That there? It’s yours, Sammy. Never doubt it.” Releasing his hand and planting a quick kiss on his jaw, Eva then closed her eyes and allowed herself to just get lost in the moment. If this were a dream, it would usually be about now that she would have been in danger of waking up. But this was real, and the only thing she was in danger of doing was falling asleep. Talking. Talking would be good.

“Hey, Sam?” she murmured, thrumming her fingers lightly against his chest, “This’ll probably sound strange, but maybe we should get to know each other a little better?” There was a short pause and she laughed, rolling to be propped up on her elbows so that she could see his face. “I don’t mean in a carnal sense, I just mean… well, I can’t say as I know your favourite colour, for example, or what hair-care brand you use. And…”

Another pause, though this time it was more apprehensive than amused. “And how much do you actually know about my time with R4, for example? How much do you want to know?” She gave his side a friendly prod and graced him with a reassuring smile. “No prying or forcing one another to spilling our guts or anything, just a simple round of Q and A. Does that sound good by you?”

[Sam O'Connor]

Sam clapped both of his hands to his cheeks, pulling a face akin to the one in that painting... The Scream? He always remembered the painter had a silly name, like a hungry Transylvanian vampire -- Edvard Munch. "The horror!" he declared, "we'll have to rectify that, most certainly, tomorrow morning. You'll be forbidden to go in the kitchen until I've finished making you the most amazing breakfast you've ever had in your life." He nodded once to signal that he meant serious business.

"Three uppity dignitaries? However did you cope?" he shook his head slightly. Politicians could be the worst for everything, and he meant everything. Working in London meant a lot more dignitaries and other political worker bees came into the restaurant, and they were incredibly finicky about how their food should be presented and taste. You'd think after a day jeering at each other all day, they'd want to relax and eat, not plague Sam with the task of cooking their meals twice. He could imagine that the room looked somewhat like a bomb had gone off in there.

It was such a relief to be able to just lie down -- with the loveliest woman in the world -- and not have to worry about anything. Quitting his job had seemed strange at first, not having anything to do while he waited on news about Eva, but he was becoming used to it. A laddy of leisure. He'd have to find work again soon, he knew that. But, for now, he was quite content to while away the hours with Eva.

A grin spread slowly across Sam's face as she told him that her heart was his, and that was a certainty. He had wondered what she was doing at first; he hadn't imagined that she would be the one to force him to go to second base. But when she'd located her heart instead, the smile popped onto his face without instruction. He was always smiling around her. Once she'd let go of his hand, he pulled that one back behind his head, moving the other so it was wrapped around her shoulders. He remembered back to that time after Christmas when Eva had been ill, and they'd curled up on the bed together. It was a wonder he hadn't realised what was happening then. He'd been so naive.

"Mmm?" he replied when she said his name, her fingers providing a four-beat accompaniment to each heart beat that thumped in his chest. He let out a small laugh when she told him what she didn't mean. "Oh shucks. I guess I'll have to retrieve my mind from the gutter," he teased, "it was having a gay old time in there." To be honest, at one time in his life, discussing being with another person in that way would have made him bolt from the room, but right now he felt like their time would come, and whenever it did come, regardless of the fact that he'd have no clue what he was doing, he would be ready. It didn't have to be rushed.

Sam nodded to show that he knew what she meant. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to know about her time with R4. He guessed he would learn about most, if not all, of it eventually, and would accept it, but she didn't have to feel like she had to spill it to him all in one go. Reaching across to gently touch her cheek, he said, "I want to know whatever you're comfortable telling me." It wasn't like he was condoning secrets between them, and while dealing with R4 was what had made him run for the hills in the first place, he'd had a lot of time to mature, and he believed he was capable of dealing with it now.

"All right," he agreed. He pulled up one of the pillows, pressing it back against the head board, before propping his shoulders against it, sitting up slightly. "Let's start with an easy one, shall we? What's your middle name?" He'd realised a little while ago that he didn't know, and he was intrigued to know what sort of middle name her parents had given her. Some children were lucky, and their middle names were almost as good as or better than the first. Then there were his, one of which he'd refused to include in his file.