Chapter Text
JB lets out a long yawn. He’s exhausted from the night before. He had spent so much time last night trying to figure out his feelings for Sam that he had been able to actually get any sleep.
“Tired?” Sam asks, his green eyes flicking towards him.
He just shrugs in response, not wanting to have to admit why he’s so tired.
He glances over at him, and notices dark circles under the Projectionist’s own eyes, which, after spending a moment to think about, he finds incredibly odd.
“Hey Sam?” JB starts, trying to get his friend’s attention.
“Yeah?” Sam replies from his spot on the couch.
“Since you’re a, well, your consciousness is in an Elucidator now, you don’t need normal living creature things to function, right?” He asks tentatively.
“Correct.” Sam responds after pursing his lips for a moment.
“Then why do you look sleep deprived?” JB asks gently.
“You’re one to talk.” Sam snorts, before his bright eyes wander away from him. “But, basically, Sam, being the genius he was, figured out how to simulate the symptoms of being alive while I’m not. I get eye bags while I’m mentally tired or stressed, I can feel my heartbeat quicken, I think up how things feel to touch.”
“So that means-” He starts, before Chase cuts him off.
“I’m fine JB, don’t worry about it.” Sam says, a soft, almost sad, smile on his face.
“Sam, if something is wrong you can tell me about it.” JB urges.
He doesn’t want the former Projectionist to have to lie anymore, he doesn’t want to see him fall back into the spiral that he helplessly watched in the time hollow.
“I’m okay now.” Sam says, turning to face him, with a more genuine smile on his face this time. “I promise, I’m doing alright. At least I am now.”
“Good. But remember that you’re not alone anymore. I can help.” JB replies.
“I know.” Chase responds softly. “Thank you.”
They sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, not needing to say anything more. JB knows that Sam understands what he said, and he knows it wouldn’t do any good to try to pressure an answer out of Chase.
JB stifles another yawn, and his eyelids feel heavy as he resists the urge to close them. God, he really needs to get more sleep…
His eyes snap open, but his training kicks in, and he stays frozen in his spot, his eyes scanning the surroundings. He quickly realizes he’s safe, and at home, before all his senses return from, what he assumes to be, a quick nap, and he feels small pinpricks on his cheek.
JB glances down and takes in, with surprise, Sam’s light hair resting on his shoulder, and the rest of the Projectionist leaning on him as well.
With a start he realizes Chase isn’t breathing, but he stifles the panic by reminding himself he doesn’t need to breathe, and probably genuinely can’t. Even so, seeing his friend so still gives him chills, reminding him of that day, in the time hollow, him lying there.
JB shifts slightly, before he adjusts both of them, bringing Sam a bit closer, reclining a tad more, and, almost subconsciously, slipping his arm around Chase’s waist, to try to make them both more comfortable.
He can’t help but examine the Projectionist’s face, now that he’s so close. His blond eyelashes are thicker than JB had realized, and his heart lurches as he spots the faint scars, a few on his face, and too many on his arms. Scars of any kind are very rare now. Health care has gotten so good, and so accessible, scars just don’t really happen anymore. That, along with just how faint they are, must mean that they’re old.
JB’s hand tightens around the, surprisingly realistic feeling, fabric of Sam’s shirt. He loathes Gary and Hodge, but a part of him can’t help but to be grateful to them for one thing. If they hadn’t gotten Sam out of that awful time period, no one would have. God knows the Time Agency wouldn’t have, and that time period had so much else going on no one else would have taken notice of him.
At least there’s a version of him, back in the past, that doesn’t end up with those scars.
As his nose stings, he realizes this is the most defenseless he’s seen Sam. For all the years they’ve known each other, Sam always seemed to be on high alert, oftentimes his back to a literal wall, or his head on a swivel. Seeing him so unaware, so… so comfortable and unconcerned , it makes him happy to see, even as it hurts him to realize how on guard Chase was before.
A warm breath by his neck startles him out of his thoughts, and JB freezes for a moment. He can see the Projectionist’s chest rising and falling, perfectly in sync with his breath, and it’s hard for him to imagine that it’s just simulated. He loosens his grip on the man’s shirt, but doesn’t move his arm away.
“You haven’t shaved in a while.” Sam murmurs, sounding half asleep.
“Oh?” JB replies, his voice low as he tries to hide the emotions he had gone through while Chase was asleep.
“You have stubble right now.” Sam responds, clicking his tongue, and he can feel his green eyes examining his face, even as he resolutely stares ahead of him. “You should shave it.”
“Why’s that?” JB asks, his voice teasing, even as he’s fighting off a nervous buzz from him being so close. “Do you not like it?”
“You had said” Sam starts, his voice clearer than before, more aware and awake. “That you don’t like the feeling of stubble on your face. So I’m reminding you that you should shave before it starts bothering you.”
JB gapes at Chase for a moment. He vaguely remembers mentioning it to the Projectionist years back, but he never would have thought he’d remember, after all these years.
“Thank you, I…” He starts, before hesitating. “I guess I just let that habit slip for a bit.”
Sam surprises JB by shifting, not away from him, but into his lap, his dazzling green eyes staring up at him, a small smirk playfully on his face.
“Did you change your shampoo? Or did I never notice it before?” Sam asks, again catching him off guard, and the man gives him a sharper smile as he sees the flush that falls over JB’s face. “Either way, I like it.”
“I… uh… I…” JB stumbles, before clearing his throat and choosing to ignore the situation and the amount of attention the former Projectionist is showing him, storing it in the box to be dealt with not right now . “Can Elucidator’s sense smell? Is that one of the simulated senses?”
Sam cackles, and JB watches his smile grow even wider.
“Yes and no. Not normally, but it can now.” Chase laughs again, a sound of pure delight. “Or, more accurately, I can now.”
“Does that mean- You got it to work?” JB asks, his words coming out in a rush.
This project has seemed so important to Sam, and he can’t help but be thrilled for his friend.
“Apparently all I needed to do was restart the Elucidator, and bam, it worked.” Sam explains, his eyes dancing. “I’m a person again.”
“So that’s what happened when you passed out next to me?” He asks, his voice light.
“I didn’t want to do that while you were asleep, since I didn’t know how long it’d take.” Chase replies with a shrug, which is quite impressive, since he’s still in JB’s lap.
“Well next time tell me before you do it.” JB says with a laugh. “I was worried sick. But I’m glad it worked.”
JB lets out a squeak of surprise as the former Projectionist’s arms are wrapped around his neck and shoulders, and he barely has time to register the hug before his arms instinctively return the gesture.
As quickly as it happened the embrace is over, and Sam launches himself towards the kitchen, leaving JB scrambling to follow behind him.
“I’ve missed drinking soda so much .” Sam raves, practically spinning into the kitchen in front of the dazed Time Agent. “And croissants ! It’s been way too fucking long since I’ve had croissants. We’re teaching you how to make croissants.”
“I didn’t realize you cared so much about food.” JB comments, leaning on the counter, amusement in his voice, watching his friend flutter through the kitchen.
“You haven’t been forced to not eat food for over a month while teaching someone else how to cook.” Chase replies, his eyes still sparkling as he grabs things from different cupboards. “It’s really no wonder I’m so excited.”
JB just smiles at him. He can watch Sam like this for hours. He’s only seen him like this, high off the serotonin of success, carefree and weightless, a few times, but they’re bright spots in his life.
It’s almost impossible for him to see the man in front of him, so happy and excited, as the same one he saw from the time hollow, broken and hurting. It’s a wonder how much success and failure affect Sam. JB can only hope to continue to hope that he’ll see him like this more.
He dares to hope that one day Sam will see that love, for himself and from other people, isn’t supposed to be so conditional.
“Are you going to help me with this or not?” Sam asks, grabbing an apron of a hook, one already on himself.
“Yes, I’m coming.” JB replies, easily catching the apron as it’s tossed at him, before shooting Sam another smile, and slipping it on.