The Initiative
It had happened on a night when they were alone. Reg had gone to bed, and the bar was empty and quiet. They had gone about their cleaning as usual, and as usual, had goofed around like children as they did. Not quite sober, Sam found multiple opportunities to bump and nudge his shoulder, and Skroos had found plenty of subtle chances to undo her cleaning. And as they would do on nights like this, things escalated, and the shells of the adults they were began to crack away to let the children out, and they pushed and teased more and more, until Sam had stolen Skroos’s towel, and he’d chased her around the empty barroom, desperately quiet to not wake their boss.
He was faster, and she knew it. So she weaved around tables, hopelessly giggling as she watched him scamper like a puppy on ice between the chairs before he finally got a hand on her waist and managed to pull her back into his arms to wrestle the cloth from her hands. She had wiggled and squirmed against his grip and refused to give up, laughing and cursing him as he tightened down and held her in place, until their laughter had faded out, and it was just the two of them standing with their bodies pressed together, feeling their heartbeats begin to settle and synchronize. He had rested his chin in her hair as she calmed, whispering things only she would ever hear; empty threats that suggested outcomes she would almost have preferred should she keep his towel. And then they were still, standing alone in their contact.
It was Skroos that broke first. He had coughed and chuckled again, easing his grip around her waist, and suggesting they go to bed, as to not wake Reg. She had nodded some form of agreement, and felt a coldness as he backed away to put his towel in the kitchen. She had watched him move, and felt the change in her feelings for him then and there, directly.
They walked up stairs, side by side, still laughing about some joke or whatever, until they got to their respective rooms across the small hallway. He’d looked at her for a long moment after saying goodnight, and eventually he smiled that smirky little half smile of his and waved and turned to open the door.
And she felt herself move and speak before she could stop herself. “Hold it, big guy,” she’d called, catching his wrist quickly. And as he turned around to see her, she stepped up on the tips of her toes and pushed her lips deep onto his. The shock and surprise kept him still for a good moment, and she savored the feeling, closing her eyes and resting her hands on his chest as she showed him affection he’d never gotten to know. A second or so went by before his arms wrapped around her and held her as gently and securely as he had downstairs, and he did his damndest to kiss back.
He wasn’t very good, she’d noticed, but she didn’t care. She didn’t feel that cold anymore. Sam had felt him pushing deeper, getting lost, but she stopped to pull away and smile slyly at him as his eyes opened. “Have a good night,” she’d taunted, before kissing the tip of his nose and slipping free from his arms before he could protest. Without another look or word, she slid into her room and shut the door, but stayed leaned against the wood to hear when his door finally closed too.
