Chapter Text
Sam hated to admit it but things may have gotten slightly out of hand...
In all seriousness, it was Julie’s fault.
Okay that's not really true. It was actually Ale-, uh… Coach Danvers’ fault for looking that good in basketball shorts and having those brown eyes that made Sam melt but she refused to admit all that… so Julie.
It was all Julie’s fault.
Sam was the CFO of a medium sized tech company, one of those companies that still claimed to be a family business despite its board members slowly being replaced with people the original founders had never met. Sam loved her job, it challenged her on a daily basis and more than provided for her and Ruby. The only minor drawback was that it left little free time for Sam once you take into consideration ferrying Ruby around to the various scholastic clubs she was an active member of and helping her with her homework.
Sam did not have free time.
She especially did not have time for ridiculous bake sales to repair the ever falling apart church steeple that Julie truly believed to be the crumbling pillar of the community.
Julie was one of those active community members, whose only joy in life came from gaining the adoration of complete strangers for her supposed ‘kind and selfless’ acts. She was head of the PTA, organised bake sales, charity fundraisers and was even a fun runner. Sam would argue that the emphasis should definitely be on the word ‘fun’ as you could not by any stretch of the imagination call what Julie did ‘running’.
Sam genuinely didn’t know how Julie had time to do it all.
It was probably a combination of Julie’s heavy-handed guilt trip, Sam’s stubbornness and inability to back down from a challenge that resulted in Sam trudging into the classroom at seven in the evening when she could have been at home watching reruns of Masterchef with Ruby, mocking the professionals whilst she threw a ready meal into the oven for them to eat.
Ruby had just started her freshman year at National City High School and Sam had, by bad luck, arrived five minutes earlier than school let out. The reason this was such bad luck was it meant she had no reason or excuse to run away when Julie cornered her in the parking lot.
Julie had gone on and on about how the PTA was lacking members, and how a young mother like Sam would be perfect and how with her youth she would be able to give the rest of the members a much needed break and how much the PTA does to support a child as active and involved as Ruby and how….
Sam wondered if Julie actually knew how to finish a sentence or if, maybe, she had worked out that as long as she didn’t pause at any point no one would have a chance to argue back.
Sam agreed to go to one ( ONE! ) PTA meeting mostly to free herself of having to continue to listen to Julie non-stop. She made it clear that she would only go to one. Sam didn’t have the time nor the desire to become actively involved in a club that would be her own personal nightmare.
Ruby had given her a pep talk of Rocky Balboa proportions for nearly an hour after Sam had admitted she had been strong armed into attending to make sure her mother was suitably amped up enough to stick to her guns in the face of Julie’s guaranteed disapproval when she reaffirmed that she would only be attending that one meeting.
With a miserable huff, Sam fell into one of the plastic chairs that had been arranged into a circle in a similar setup to an alcoholics anonymous meeting further depressing Sam as she looked around at the overly preppy mothers and a few stalwart fathers laughing and joking by the crappy coffee dispenser that had been provided for the meeting.
“Mind if I sit here?”
Sam only barely prevented a long suffering groan from escaping when she heard the question from somewhere to her left. She slowly lifted her gaze away from the string of texts Ruby had sent her, already anticipating the sight of a perky sports mother who was dressed in the latest fashion and went to pilates, yoga and spin class whilst Sam considered the trek to get the pizza from the deliveryman at the front door exercise.
Sam shrugged as she glanced up at the woman, hoping a dismissive action would keep the inevitably cheerful blonde mother from speaking to her more than necessary.
It wasn’t a perky, blonde, fashionable mother.
It was as if the universe had decided to create a single human being with everything on Sam’s wishlist and present it to her.
Warm, melted chocolate eyes that seemed to emit a fierce, breathtaking determination. Dark red hair that was chopped into a messy, yet practical bob which just begged for Sam to run her fingers through it. A hard set smile that would be intimidating if it wasn't for the crinkles around the eyes that revealed a sincerity and kindness that made Sam instantly feel like all her problems could be solved by simply sharing them with this stranger.
The only part Sam had half-assumed correctly about the woman before she saw her was her clothing. She was wearing athletic wear that was true. However, it wasn’t the latest trend or style, and certainly didn’t look like a mere fashion statement. Black basketball shorts revealed bruised and slightly grass stained legs that led down to well worn and scuffed, previously white (but now decidedly grey) trainers. On top she was wearing a light grey Henley, also mud stained, and battered by age and use, admittedly it did successfully highlight toned and well defined arms so Sam had no intention of complaining.
Sam’s shrug immediately rolled out into nothing, and her fingers spasmed with utter shock at the sight before her, this resulted in her phone falling to the ground with a resounding clatter.
“Shit.” Sam squeaked, the sudden sound of her phone hitting the floor prompting her to finally drag her eyes away from the woman in front of her and she quickly scrambled to collect her fallen item.
“Oh, let me get that for you.” The perfect stranger offered, crouching down at the exact same time Sam lunged forward out of her seat.
“No, don’t worry, I’ve got it-” Sam tried to insist but it was far too late.
In the ensuing confusion and tussle, their heads collided with a loud ‘thunk’ which rattled Sam's already disjointed thoughts and caused the redhead to full back on her heels and rub her forehead with the palm of her hand.
“Ooph.”
“Ouch.”
The two women both winced simultaneously as they recovered from their less than stellar introduction.
“I am so sorry.” Sam apologised, her own pain fading to be replaced with sheer embarrassment and guilt. She reached out a hand to help the other woman up, ignoring the excited flutter of butterfly wings in her stomach as she felt the callused palm press against her own.
The woman practically flipped back up onto her feet, with only a minimal amount of assistance, flashing the sweetest of smiles in contrast to her impressive physical display.
“It’s alright, here’s your phone.”
It was only then, once Sam had gotten over the dazzling smile directed her way, that she noticed two things: one that her phone was being held out for her to take and second that she was still, unnecessarily, holding the woman's other hand.
Sam let go of the callused hand with a jolt and accepted her phone with a shy smile and nod of her head, “Please take a seat. Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam asked, cringing in on herself upon spotting the red mark marring the pale skin of the woman's forehead who was slipping easily into the seat next to Sam.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” The woman assured, with a dismissive wave of her hand, “How about you?”
“Fine, my parents always told me I had a hard head.”
At least, that was that they used to declare when she valiantly tried to learn to run before she had to learnt to walk. As a toddler, small child, teenager (and adult), she had the unfortunate proclivity of literally running head first into anything that would get in her way, she quickly became a familiar face at the emergency room and was on a first name basis with the majority of the nurses and doctors.
“Yeah, I can tell.” The redhead murmured, lifting up her own phone to examine the visible imprint on her forehead.
“I didn’t mean…”, Sam began, trailing off when the redhead shot her a playful smirk, “Nevermind. Um… I’m Samantha Arias, by the way, but please, call me Sam.” Sam offered out a hand, trying to channel her professional persona.
The other woman didn't hesitate to accept the handshake and gave Sam’s hand a firm yet not too tight squeeze whilst she introduced herself, “Nice to meet you, Sam. I’m Coach Danvers but please, call me Alex.”
“Alex.” Sam repeated the name, liking how it sounded dropping easily off her tongue.
“First meeting?” Alex inquired conversationally.
“Yeah, still not quite sure what to make of it.” Sam admitted, aiming a frown at the over the top cackling laughter coming from a far too perfectly dressed group who presumably referred to these meetings as soirées.
Alex glanced in the direction Sam was looking and hummed an agreement to the statement. When she spoke again, she dropped her volume so that only Sam could hear, creating a private bubble for just the two of them, “Well, from what I’ve gathered so far... the sole purpose of these meetings is to find the most mentally strong person in the world. How, you may ask?”
“That was going to be my next question, yes.” Sam agreed, arching a curious eyebrow, appreciating how the teasing shine in the doe eyes staring back at her seemed to grow brighter as she willingly played along.
“By gathering some of the most dull and frustrating human beings all together in one room, with subpar coffee, chairs that are unnecessarily uncomfortable and an agenda which would make even a decorated war veteran cry.” Alex listed off, dropping her voice down to a mere murmur to be in keeping with the highly classified information she was in the process of sharing. “The person left standing at the end of the school year is declared ruler of the universe.”
“Wow, exciting.” Sam enthused, proceeding to stealthily assess her ‘competition’ as she spoke out of the corner of her mouth, “Got any tips to aid my survival?”
“Don’t drink the coffee.” Alex stated deadly serious, her smirk twisting into a grimace as if reliving a long forgotten horror.
“Noted.”
“And whatever you do…”, Alex leaned forward, drawing Sam inexorably closer. Sam had to force herself not to glance down at the lips that were now so close to hers, “Never, ever run for the position as head of the committee, its the surest way to lose your sanity.” Alex pulled back, far too suddenly for Sam’s liking, flashing her a conspiratorial wink as Julie started to gesture for people to take their seats.
“That implies I didn't lose it years ago.” Sam sighed out, her heartbeat which had skyrocketed with the closeness to the redhead began to return to a more manageable, less emergency-room-required level.
Alex side-eyed her upon hearing the comment, and flashed her a smirk so enticing Sam thought the devil could do with taking some lessons from her, “Ooh, you and I are going to get along so well.”
That, however, was exactly what Sam feared...
The meeting passed far more enjoyably than Sam had anticipated, solely due to Alex’s company and her sharp one liners that were breathed into Sam’s ear regularly causing a shiver of delight alongside a stifled giggle. Never one to be outdone, Sam gave as good as she got. Sam was particularly proud of one of her remarks (about how you could probably substitute everyone at this meeting with their five year old counterparts and it would play out exactly the same) that garnered an unrestrained burst of laughter from Alex which she had to cover up with a particularly nasty sounding cough. Julie politely requested her to leave for a few minutes until she had suitably recovered (those two minutes felt longer than the length of labour to Sam).
The actual (what people would see as the) important parts of the meeting passed as mind-numbingly as expected in the background. The majority of the meeting was spent discussing what should be the theme behind this year’s charity fair: unity or togetherness (Sam was met with some particularly dirty/distraught looks when her only contribution to the discussion was ‘well, aren’t they the same thing?’).
The meeting came to a close with a forced and awkward round of applause instigated by Julie who (once the uncomfortable clapping had died a dragged out and uninspiring death) directed her botoxed smile at Sam. Sam slumped down in her seat immediately as Julie rounded on her with false cheer, putting her on the spot in front of the indoctrinated committee who Sam could have sworn were ominously chanting ‘one of us, one of us’ under their breaths.
“So, Samantha, will we be seeing you next week?”
No, was the answer.
Ruby had prepared her for this, instilled her with the confidence to say no. She had even made a PowerPoint of the main justifications for why her mother should feel confident about saying no (Sam was particularly proud of how far Ruby's presentation skills had come over the last couple of years).
Sam wanted to set a good example for Ruby. Being able to say ‘no’ was an important lesson to teach her young, impressionable daughter.
Sam was already at breaking point when it came to her free time. She worked full time, was a single parent, and most importantly all of her favourite television shows were restarting next week. She literally didn't have the time to join the PTA.
There was also rather a high chance (at least in Ruby's opinion and Sam couldn't really deny her reasoning) that if she was forced to spend prolonged periods of time with Julie (or any of her clones), she was likely to commit homicide. (Sam was rather offended to discover that Ruby didn't think she would excel very well in prison, Sam figured her knowledge of the current tax system would put her in prime position to star in her very own version of ‘The Shawshank Redemption’. They agreed to disagree.)
And even if saying ‘no’ wasn't just the right, responsible and moral choice (which it most certainly was), there was the simple fact that Sam didn't like the PTA.
Sam had absolutely no reason to say yes.
No. A strong, decisive no.
Sam opened her mouth to speak and accidentally glanced to her left as she did so.
Deep brown, affectionate, attentive eyes were staring at her. A soft smile was directed her way. A smile she would do anything to see again.
Say no. Say no. Say n-
“Yes, yes you will.”