Samuel Emerson One Shots

Every Penny

The summer sun cascades softly through the broken window, and the old moth-eaten sheets from the thrift store do a terrible job of blocking out the sunlight. The scent of bacon drifting in on the breeze from next door's kitchen window, The sounds of dogs barking, motorbikes revving and a few people shouting around the culdesac do nothing to arouse them.

The room was sparse and tattered, the plaster of the walls flaking off from dampness, and a few holes in the walls courtesy of Samuel's father. The walls a pale grey with a scuffed and chipped wooden floor. A few colourful comic posters lined the walls covering some of the older and worse holes in the walls. None of the furniture matched all of it picked up from garage sales and thrift stores and when the old stuff fell apart, none of it ever matched even slightly, A small shelf in the corner of comics and Shakespeare books, a small clothing rail held together with tape hanging a few dresses, shirts and jackets, a wooden chest of drawers to the side chipped and broken with the fake wood pealing from the MDF, one small bedside table where a few candles sat, and a old wooden double bed without a footboard, pushed into the corner so only one side was really accessible. The room did have space for the bed to be in the centre but Samuel liked it better this way, he could lay on his side and have Y/n tucked into the corner with the walls to her sides, keeping her safe in his arms so no one could get to her without going through him first.

Within the bed, Samuel lays, on his back, his right hand behind his head to help prop up his small pillow, his right knee slightly up and his left foot dangled off the end of his short bed. Wearing his grey faded old t-shirt that's miles too big for his body, and a pair of blue boxers full of holes as half-broken elastic. His blonde hair was a messy mop a little fluffy from last night's cold shower, and his left arm was draped over Y/n.

Y/n lay on her side, her legs bundled up to avoid the end of the bed, one leg wrapped around Samuel's, her head resting softly against his chest, her hand draped over his stomach, her Y/h/c hair in a braid down her back also a little fluffy from their shared cold shower last night, in a pair of pink panties and one of Samuel's old white T-shirts.

The sheets had been pushed off them both as it was far too hot without AC in their little room.

A sudden bang caused them both to flinch, as the front door slammed shut. Heavy footsteps marched across the house and it all ended with another bang of a door being slammed.

By now both Y/n and Samuel were awake, He held her in a tight grip until he knew it was over and they were both safe.

"Dad's home," Samuel sighed,

"Ummm," She nodded,

"Good Morning Deare," He cooed down to her,

"Good morning," She yawned,

"You sleep okay?"

"I did," she nodded, "Still sleeping though,"

"Okay, you sleep a little while longer," he cooed kissing her forehead, "Ummm can you smell it?"

"Mhm," she nodded,

"Must be the start of the month, Neighbours have bacon money," He chuckled but even the word made both their stomachs groan and rumble,

"But alas we do not have bacon monies,"

"I know... but we can still smell it,"

"All I smell is you, and the one-dollar shampoo."

"Ooohh... do I smell good?"

"Not really,"

"I need another shower?"