So I'm Your Tech Support? (Sam Drake x Reader)

Epilogue: Anton Antiquities

You awkwardly stood in the corner of the room, sipping your ginger ale from a cheap plastic glass as you watched the other donors mingle.

Most of them appeared to be edging towards their twilight years, their words as lavish as their gowns, sophistication in every movement. Clearly old money, snippets of conversations that drifted over mentioning entitled sons and daughters that would never have to work a day in their lives.

You were the clear outlier, someone trying to finagle your way into their special club, and you found yourself wishing Sam was here. Not that he would blend in any better than you appeared to be doing.

You chuckled at the thought of him showing up in a worn sweater and filthy jeans, hair eschew and boots trekking mud onto the pristine floor.

"Thought I recognized the latest donor," you heard a familiar voice murmur, and you looked up from your glass in surprise.

Clarke Baker looked down at you with a polite grin, and you expected to tense at his sudden appearance.

But you were surprisingly grateful he was here, and you gave him a genuine smile.

"Yeah, well, what use would a bunch of journals be gathering dust in my basement?" You retorted with a shrug, causing him to laugh a little. "You're a donor too?"

"That would be my cousin Marie," he replied as he gestured over to a woman, her black hair placed in an intricate braid and her dress appearing to cost your entire dissertation. "She never seems to find a date that doesn't get intimidated....so I usually get dragged along."

You took a sip of your ginger ale before you nodded.

"Surprised you didn't try to bring Samuel," he continued. "Might have helped him get some future clients."

You didn't look as Clarke as you spoke, watching an older couple speak disdainfully with a waitress instead.

"We...we haven't been in touch, actually," you replied, finishing off your glass. You went to pick up another one when Clarke held up his hand, motioning a waiter over.

"Ginger ale and a whisky please," he declared, the waiter looking exhausted but still nodding dutifully. You made a mental note to leave him a tip if possible.

"Ah, because of him and Abigail?" He retorted knowingly, and your eyes widened as you looked at him in shock. "Oh. You didn't know."

The waiter came back with the drinks and you left a five dollar bill on the tray as you gave the waiter a small smile. He looked pleasantly surprised before he placed it in his pocket, walking off with a small grin on his face.

Clarke took a long gulp from his whiskey before he cleared his throat.

"So, as it turns out, our friend Abigail Victor, though being guilty of having no loyalties except to herself, technically did not do anything illegal," Clarke declared, and you glanced down at his still-bandaged hand.

Clarke swirled the amber liquid in his glass before he smirked.

"She happened to run into Samuel a week after her release. Hashed it all out, came to an understanding, blah blah blah," Clarke continued before he downed the rest of the liquid, setting the glass down on a nearby table. "And they used the money from Sam's share to take a little trip together to Brazil. Apparently there was some long lost treasure in the Incan ruins, or something like that."

Chapped lips against your own, his mouth tasting like cigarettes as your hand carded itself through the ends of dirtied hair, lingering for a few moments before you released him. Wondering if you had imagined him beginning to kiss you back when you withdrew.