Monday, November 12, 2018
Strong and Silent
Strong and Silent
A Sam and Beck Story
Samiyo was awakened at 2 AM by the familiar burning sensation in his stomach, which was also growling it's displeasure at being empty. He was sweating and his heart was racing. He put his hands on his thighs to stop the shaking. His eyes opened wide as he looked to see if Beckett had been awakened by the noise and closed them again as a stab of pain shot through his head. A headache. Not good, Sam thought.
He knew that if Beck found out that he hadn't eaten during his dinner break as he'd said, he'd be in trouble. If there was one thing his blonde lover insisted on, it was that Sam eat regularly. The fact that he was hypoglycemic concerned Beck to no end, and skipping meals was strictly forbidden. Despite the dizziness and the throbbing pain in his head, Sam grinned, he could just imagine Beckett having one of his cousins or friends at the bar watching to make sure he ate, as though they had nothing better to do than police his eating habits.
Another grumble and an increase to the burning sensation had Sam out of bed as quickly and as quietly as he could manage, keeping an eye on Beck every moment to make sure he was still asleep. He felt as though he were running through a particularly unsteady funhouse, which wasn't unusual, so he kept his balance by putting his hands on the walls to steady himself.
He went into the kitchen and to the cupboard where he kept his stash of jelly beans only to remember that he'd finished them two days ago. He'd meant to buy another bag and it had slipped his mind until this moment, so he took a loaf of bread out of one of the top cupboards and tried to slowly eat a slice. It was dry and stuck in his throat as it went down but at least the burning sensation in his stomach lessened. He knew he should eat more but the idea of making peanut butter crackers made him a little queasier than he already was. He forced down a couple of Tylenol for his headache and sat down to let the latest wave of lightheadedness pass.
After looking around the kitchen once more and finding nothing that appealed to him he decided to walk down the hill to the local 24-7 for a snack, so he went into the laundry room, picked up some clean clothes and slid out of his sleep pants.
Sam closed his eyes and concentrated on getting his clothes on properly with shaking hands, while mentally reassuring his stomach that it would have something to fill it soon. He nearly lost his balance and had to prop himself up in the corner between the wall and the door to prevent himself from falling over while he put his jeans on. He fought with the button and zipper for a few moments, his irritation growing with each passing second until the things finally decided to cooperate.
He looked for his car keys. They weren't where they usually were. Or maybe they were, but at this point, he couldn't rightly remember where the usual place was. With a muffled curse he gave up and decided to walk. He was young and in good shape, he rationalized, he could handle the hill on the way back. He'd just take it slowly and pray that Beck didn't wake up before he could get back home. He took his debit card from his wallet and carefully opened the door, wincing as it seemed to squeak very loudly. Surely Beck had to have heard that. He stood quietly for a few moments, and hearing nothing from the bedroom, just as carefully closed it behind him and headed out.
On somewhat wobbly legs he began his trek down the hill, making it to the store in what seemed to be record time. Or maybe that was because the road was moving so quickly beneath his feet. Either way, as long as he could stay upright, he wasn't going to worry about it.
Entering the store the first thing he did was get himself a cup of Irish Cream coffee, believing that the sugar in the creamer would help. Coffee at the 24-7 wasn't the best but he knew that in his condition that he wouldn't have been able to make coffee without dropping the pot. He looked around at all of the sugary snacks and dismissed them one by one. He had a sweet tooth, but the snack cakes were so loaded with processed sugar that he knew they would just make him ill. He knew he needed sugar, but not quite that much.
Deciding on two bottles of mango juice and two bananas he approached the register to pay when his gaze was caught by the display case full of taquitos and hot dogs which were kept rolling to keep them warm, if not completely hot. His mouth watered and his stomach grumbled loudly. The idea of a few taquitos appealed to him even though he knew his stomach would be paying for it later. He paid for his purchases and went outside into the cool early morning air, slathered the taquitos with hot sauce and ate them quickly before they could get cold.
Feeling marginally better he crossed the street and sat down on one of the park benches where he peeled one of the bananas and began to break it into sections before eating each piece slowly, savoring the flavor and texture. He opened one of the bottles of juice and drank half of it in one gulp. The taquitos began weighing uncomfortably on his stomach, but the fruit and juice seemed to help. He sat for a while longer, enjoying the relative quiet, before picking up his cup of coffee and heading back up the hill.
That was when the dizziness picked up again. His knees felt as though they'd turned into rubber bands, so he sat down on a boulder and waited for the feeling to pass. His hands were still shaking. He tried several times to put the cap back on the opened bottle of juice but the cap was uncooperative for quite some time. Finally, he managed it and put it into the bag that held its twin. He held onto the remaining banana, debating whether to eat that as well and, using both hands to keep the coffee cup steady, carefully took a sip of his still hot beverage. Several minutes later he felt a little better and continued his uphill journey.
In order to take his mind off of the feeling in his stomach, he began to quietly hum a tune, directing himself, using the banana as a baton to keep the rhythm. It was a slow song, and easy to walk to for the time being.
The trek back up the hill wasn't as easy as he'd thought, even taking it slow. His stomach protested the feeling of being overfull almost as much as it had being empty, but he tried to take things easy, resting at each phone pole for a few minutes before beginning again. Even so, he was weaving unsteadily and he was grateful that there was no traffic on the street at this time. He'd never had an episode this bad before and he was beginning to become worried. He put his hand into his pocket to call Beck after all and groaned when he realized he'd left his phone at home. Frustrated, he jammed the banana into his jacket pocket, tossed back the last of the coffee with a grimace since it had cooled considerably, and put the cup in his other pocket to throw away later. He despised people who littered.
When he was about a third of the way up the hill he saw the flashing lights of a police car but thought nothing of it until he heard the short whoop of its siren. He turned curiously and watched as two policemen exited the car and headed toward him.
"Good morning sir," one of the officers asked in a friendly tone, "can I see some ID please?"
Sam blinked, confused, "I don't know. Can you?" he asked.
"May I see your ID, sir." the police officer asked again with a bit of an edge to his voice.
Sam leaned forward to get a closer look at the man's badge and then did the same to the other before turning his attention back to the first one.
"What on earth for?" Sam asked, a little befuddled, "Is there some law against minding my own business and walking home, Officer Davis?" he asked politely, eyes wide with curiosity.
"Where are you walking from?" the other man, Erickson, asked, "and where are you heading?"
Sam slowly lifted the bag from the 24-7 so that they could see the logo, and repeated in an exaggeratedly slow voice, "As I said just a second ago, I'm heading home. You know. The place where you live? Hoooommmmme."
The officers' expressions showed exactly how they felt about Sam's tone of voice.
"I'd like to see some ID, sir. Now. Please," Davis asked again, more forcefully this time.
Sam reached toward his back pocket.
Sam could see the officers were tense and that they had their hands on the butts of their guns. He sighed in frustration and slowly reached into his back pocket, finding only his debit card which he pulled out anyway.
"You don't have a photo ID?" asked the second officer, Erickson, as he studied the name on the card.
"I didn't think I'd need one to go to the store and back, especially since I'm walking and minding my own business." Sam said pointedly, "What exactly have I done that you feel the need to stop me in the street. Was I speeding, perhaps? Playing my radio too loud? Or am I going to be charged with felony WWB? Do I need a lawyer?"
"WWB..." Davis stammered.
"Yes, 'Walking While Black'. I'm assuming that's the law I'm breaking?"
"Mr...." the first man said angrily as he studied the card once again, "... Datoru? You match the description of an intoxicated male waving a gun around, so my next question to you is, do you have a firearm on you?"
"Fire... what on earth?" Sam finally managed to ask, dumbfounded.
"Empty your pockets, please." Officer Davis demanded.
Sam jammed his hand into his jacket pocket and suddenly found himself staring at a warning hand that was a little too close to his face for his own liking. Davis's hand, the other had his on the butt of his gun, ready to draw at a moment's notice. Politely, Davis said, "Slowly remove that from your pocket using only your thumb and forefinger."
Sam aimed a sultry look at the two men as he slowly, as ordered, took the item out of his pocket. "Yes, it is a banana, but no, I'm definitely not glad to see you." he drawled.
"Drop it." the first officer said.
"Honestly?" Sam asked, incredulously.
"Drop. It." Davis repeated.
"If it bruises you owe me a new banana," Sam replied sulkily as he did as he was told.
Erickson quickly patted Sam down, finding only the empty cup which he sniffed, while Davis opened the bag containing the bottles of juice. He took the cap off of the one that was already opened and sniffed that carefully as well. "What is this?" he asked, suspiciously.
"Mango juice," Sam replied as though talking to a small child. "Is there a law against mango juice as well?"
"Is there alcohol in it?"
"Does it smell like there's alcohol in it?" Sam retorted.
"You're about two seconds away from being arrested, Mr. Datoru, if that is your name, so I'd watch my mouth if I were you."
In a tight voice and with an expression of anger that rarely crosses his features, Sam growled, "You pull me over for walking. Walking! You say someone reported a drunk man with a gun. I am obviously not drunk, nor do I have a gun, and you're threatening to arrest me?"
"You match the description," Officer Davis interjected, "and you were walking unsteadily when we pulled up behind you."
"I'm tired, officers," Sam replied tiredly, as though to prove his point, "and I'm hypoglycemic. I needed something with sugar in it to get my levels straightened out. That's why I was 'unsteady' as you say. I went to the store and was merely going home, not bothering anyone that I was aware of when you pulled me over and started making accusations. And what I'd like to know is who on earth is awake at this hour, besides us, that has the time to watch me walk up the hill and call you with what was obviously speculation and no real proof."
Sam was pleased to see the two men's expressions change from anger to embarrassment. He could see the blush rise on Davis's face in the glow from the street lamp.
"Now, I just live a little ways further up the hill. If you'd like to follow me to my house I'll be more than happy to get my ID for you." the young man offered reasonably. He took a step and nearly lost his balance.
"How about if we give you a ride, then," Davis suggested, as he helped keep Sam upright by gently grabbing his elbow.
Sam grinned slyly and asked, "You do mean my house, and not the station, right?"
Erickson grinned back a bit sheepishly, "Your house. Promise."
"I'd really appreciate that," Sam breathed in relief, now that the worst seemed to be over. "But first, may I have my banana and my juice back?" he asked archly.
"Sure," replied Davis, who was holding the bag, handing it over to Sam with a somewhat embarrassed smile.
The other officer bent down and picked up the banana, inspecting it carefully and brushing off the road dust before handing it back. "Look ok?"
Sam looked at the piece of fruit and grinned, "I guess it's still edible, thanks."
He felt a little unsure while he rode the rest of the way to the house, wondering if Beck were still asleep, if he'd been missed, and if he was going to be able to get his wallet out of their room without waking his lover if by some chance he was still sleeping.
Sam directed the officer behind the wheel toward the house he now shared with Beckett, which, as promised, was not far away.
His stomach dropped as the car approached the house which seemed to have every light burning. Beck was awake. Well, Sam thought as he led the officers to the door, at least I don't have to worry about waking him up now.
The door flew open and Beck ran out into the early morning chill wearing only his sleep pants and a tee shirt, hugging Sam and sounding near tears as he asked over and over how he was and where he'd been. The officers stood back politely while Sam assured his lover that he was fine, and explained the situation.
Beck shot an astonished look at the officers and one of inquiry at Sam.
Samiyo laughed, "Yes, it's all true, I couldn't make something like this up."
"It's obvious that Mr. Datoru does live here," the first officer said quietly, in deference of the time, "so we'll just be on our way. Sorry to have bothered you, gentlemen."
"Goodnight guys," Sam replied with a smile. With everything over now he could find the humor in the situation and laugh, though he could tell that Beck was still not seeing it. The couple saw the officers off and began to walk back inside when Sam's eyes widened as his stomach seemed to clench and twist. He was very familiar with that sensation as well as it was a common by-product of eating certain foods.
He broke away from Beck and ran to the bathroom. "I'm ok! I'm ok! I'm ok!" Sam called back over his shoulder.
Beck ran after him but was stopped by a locked door. "Sam!" he called, concerned.
"I'm ok," Sam replied, "you know, just stomach stuff. I'll be out in a minute."
Reassured that Sam was, in fact, alright, Beck walked back into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. It was now close to 5 AM and he doubted that he'd be able to go back to sleep at this point. He went into the laundry room and dressed in clean jeans and a tee shirt before returning to the kitchen to wait for his lover.
Sam returned, looking a little paler but otherwise fine, and with his usual gap-toothed grin in place. "Well!" he exclaimed, "that was fun, wasn't it?" he asked as he sat down at the table, gratefully accepting a fresh, hot cup of coffee.
"No, it wasn't!" Beck replied sternly, "do you have any idea how scared I was when I couldn't find you? You left your wallet, your phone... I had no way of getting in touch with you! And what on earth were you doing going out so early in the morning? Yes," he said, trying to squelch his irritation, "I know you said you went to the store, but we have plenty of food here!"
"We don't have bananas. Or mango juice," Sam said with an injured tone, "and I was out of jelly beans." he added petulantly, then he clicked his fingers, "Dang! And I forgot to buy a new bag!"
Beckett's eyes widened in surprise. He knew the importance of what Sam had just said.
"Out of... you had low blood sugar and you went out in the middle of the night, by yourself?! What...!"
"...was I thinking. Yes, Beck," Sam said in a bored tone, having heard this particular lecture many times before, "I know, and I told you."
"You should have woken me up!"
"Why?" Sam asked as though the answer should be obvious, "It's just a little low blood sugar. I've been dealing with it my whole life and I'm fine!" he said as his stomach twisted once more. "I took care of it." He stifled a burp that reminded him strongly of the taquitos as he tried to ignore the pressure in his abdomen.
"How do you feel now, hon?" Beckett asked, still concerned but calming down considerably, "No blurred vision?"
" 'I can see clearly now, the rain is gone...' " Sam began to sing. He stopped abruptly when he saw ice blue eyes trained on him. Ice blue... not good, Sam thought.
"I'm fine," Sam replied, becoming frustrated again, "the headache is gone, the dizziness is gone. I'm pretty sure I can walk in a straight line now without having the cops pull me over for DUI." Sam joked.
Beck put his hands on Sam's face, checking for excess perspiration and clammy skin.
"Beck," Sam laughed, taking the hands in his own, "I'm fine, I promise."
"You promise," Beckett repeated wryly, "that's what you told me when I asked you if you'd eaten dinner during your break at work," Beck replied quietly.
"Well," Sam hedged, "I kind of did."
"Really? What did you 'kind of' eat?"
"Ummm...." Sam stalled for time as he thought, "I had a few potato chips!"
"You worked an eight-hour shift, and ate a 'few potato chips' during your break," Beck said, trying to get the story straight.
"I wasn't really hungry." Sam shrugged.
"Were you hungry before you left for work?" Beck asked, shrewdly.
"Ummm, no, not really," Sam admitted quietly, "but I did have a glass of soda!" he announced as though it was a point in his favor.
Beckett was quiet for several moments. "Walk for me," he said finally.
Beck only raised his eyebrows slightly in response.
Sam stood up and gave his lover the show of his life, using all of his best runway moves.
"Now heel to toe, in a straight line."
"I'm not drunk." Sam retorted.
With the grace of a tightrope walker, Sam did as he was told.
"Alright then," Beck replied, satisfied, "now you can walk into the living room and have a seat. There's something you and I need to take care of."
"You can't possibly mean..." Sam began, dismayed.
"I do," came Beck's short response as he stood and gestured Sam ahead of him.
"C'est des conneries," Sam muttered as he slouched into the next room, arms crossed.
(This is bullshit)
"Vous réalisez que je peux vous comprendre, n'est-ce pas?" Beckett replied with a slight rise of one fine, pale blonde eyebrow.
(You realize that I can understand you, don't you?)
"Ohhhhh... apaadi!" Sam groused as he sat down on the couch.
"None of that until you teach me more," Beckett replied with a half smile.
"Well, I'm sick and you want to spank me." Sam pouted.
"You're not sick anymore, otherwise it would never cross my mind, at least not until later."
"Mo nireti pe o tesiwaju lori Lego." Sam scowled.
(I hope you step on a Lego.)
"Hmmm, how many words is that?"
Sam looked at Beck with a confused expression, "Ah, seven?"
"Then I'll add seven more swats when we're finished."
"Ko si ewa!!" Sam stomped his foot without thinking, giving Beckett a dark look.
"You're just making things worse for yourself," Beck replied as he went to the cabinet to take out one of the paddles they kept in there.
"Ohhhhh! No, Beeeeeeeck!" Sam turned imploring eyes on his Top.
"Hush!" the older man said in a level tone as he sat down beside his lover.
"I'll scream!" Sam threatened.
A slight rise of one of those fine, white-blonde eyebrows caused the younger man to blush and look down at his still crossed arms. "Never mind." he groused. He knew that there were no other dwellings within earshot, which was one of the reasons they'd chosen this house. They both valued their privacy and knew how loud Sam
could become while making love. Or during a spanking.
"Well Samiyo, do we need to go over the reasons why you're being punished?" Beckett asked, knowing that Sam hated having to recount his misdeeds.
"No," Sam replied petulantly.
"Alright hon, come here."
Sam glared at Beck from the corner of his eye for a moment but then got up huffily and began to unbutton his jeans.
"No, all things considered, I think we can leave them up this time."
Sam's eyes went wide with surprise but his mother had always taught him to never take a gift for granted, so he lowered himself over his Top's lap, allowing himself to be positioned before feeling the comforting weight of Beck's arm across his back.
"But the attitude didn't help your case either," the blonde added with a slight grin that he knew his lover couldn't see.
Sam began to make a reply which was cut off sharply by the first smack of the paddle against his rear. Eyes wide with surprise and what promised to be the beginning of a memorable spanking, Sam once again felt that familiar bubbling sensation in his stomach. The paddle fell several more times, each time making the feeling worse.
He'd lost track of how many times the paddle landed. All Sam knew was that the pressure was getting worse with each spank.
"Beck?" Sam said in a small voice through the tears which were already falling, "Beck? I think you better stop."
"What was that? Are you telling me what to do here?"
"Noooo," Sam replied in a tentative voice, "not really, it's more of a suggestion?"
"I'll take your suggestion under consideration," Beck replied, "in the meantime..."
"Beck... Beck, really... I really think..." Sam breathed.
Beckett was ready to land the paddle once again when it happened.
As expected, the taquitos had come back to haunt him, and Sam released a 'strong and silent'. He was chagrined that it had happened but it was even worse when it happened again not a second later, even though Beck had stopped.
Beck sat quietly for a moment before helping Sam up and gently seating him on the couch before getting up woodenly and heading for the front door, which he opened wide before walking out and taking a deep breath.
"Good Lord, Sam, what did you do, eat something dead?!" Beck asked as he looked back over his shoulder at his man, still a little breathless and more than a bit stunned.
Sam looked at his lover incredulously, "Well I sure as hell didn't eat it while it was alive!" he retorted as he joined his lover at the door, taking in the fresh air.
Beck's eyes went wide and his mouth hung open for a moment. He tried his hardest not to laugh but it wasn't to be stopped. Pretty soon the two of them were sitting on the concrete steps, laughing helplessly and holding onto each other because their elbows and knees felt like wet noodles that didn't want to support their weight. Beck knew that their laughter was most likely more based in relief than in anything actually humorous, but he wasn't going to question it. He had his man by his side. Sam was healthy, and home. It was a good day.
Tears of laughter running down his face, Beck hugged Sam to him. "Let's head out for breakfast, it's going to take a little while to air out in there," he said, still chuckling.
"Rock, paper, scissors?" Sam asked.
"Which one of us is going back in there for the car keys." Sam giggled.
"We'll walk. It's a nice morning." Beck decided.
When the two of them could finally stop laughing and support their own weight, they began their trek to the nearest diner, arms around each other and heads together, as they once again laughed about the events of the morning.
Symptoms of Hypoglycemia (low blood sugar) include:
sudden mood changes
trouble thinking clearly or concentrating
loss of consciousness, seizure, coma
Hypoglycemia is usually mild and can be treated quickly and easily by eating or drinking a small amount of glucose-rich food. Always carry something to eat in case a hypoglycemic episode happens, such as sugar or glucose tablets, fruit juice, or hard candy.