Offer me tea

September 2012

"Bloody fantastic." Sam cursed as she walked in 7 Eastbourne Rd, swinging Levi's door open that Saturday evening. Inside lying on the sofa in his blue silk pajamas was the Criminal Psychologist, a look of contempt on his face as he glared at the ceiling.

Levi tore his eyes away from the ceiling and raised a brow at the state of the redhead at his front door. Sam was soaked from head to toe, she had forgotten to grab her umbrella when she left her place that evening. And with the roads closed towards Eastbourne, she was forced to walk a block in the rain.

"You're soaking wet. Why?" Levi asks, brow raised at the pathologist. Sam shot him an incredulous look, peeved at his cluelessness. "It's raining, genius." She replied sarcastic, gesturing to the window where the rain could both be seen and heard pouring hard. Levi rolled his eyes in response, he had failed to notice the current weather his mind stuck on the annoying conversation he had with his sister that morning. Mentally plotting her 'accidental' death. Overdose? Falling off the stairs? What about feeding her food laced in Strawberry extract, something she was highly allergic to. That would do the trick.

"Sarcasm," he noted, going back to doing nothing.

"Yes. Good. Now can you get me a towel please, I don't want to flood the floor."

Levi cocked a brow at her and turned, his back facing her. "Get it yourself." He replies displeased that someone was ordering him that day, again.

Sam reached over to him with her damp cold fingers and flicked his exposed ear.

"Ow woman!" He shouts, rubbing his ear. Glaring at her the second later.

"I will flick you again I swear it, Mr. Jackson." Sam threatens glaring down at him. Levi begrudgingly leaves recognizing her serious tone and gets her a towel, he returns throwing it towards her and she catches it, while he flops back on the sofa. "Now, stop shaking, and let's play." He demands as he pulls out a chessboard from under the table. He hadn't won in that game with her yet, he was determined to win this time. He needed a win.

"Levi, what's with all the ruckus?" Mrs. Whitehall walks in. "Please mind your own business, Mrs. Whitehall," Levi says his nose pointed up childishly

"Levi!" Sam chides. "Game, now," Levi demands, eyes narrowed at the redhead. He had enough of being told what to do.

"Be nice," Sam says sternly.

"I will yeah," he says, in Irish slang meant: No I won't.

"You're soaking wet dear." Mrs. Whitehall tells Sam, her eyes filled with concern.

"Thanks for the obvious, Mrs. Whitehall. She's shaking like a leaf. Get her something to wear, will you? She's practically useless when she's indisposed." Levi orders, recalling the time she had the flu and couldn't come to their Game night.

"Don't mind him, dear, his sister came to visit this morning. He'd been in a foul mood since." Mrs. Whitehall says, showing her to the bathroom.

"Go take a shower, I'll get you something dry to wear," she says and Sam nods. Taking a short shower, Sam put on the clothes provided to her.

Levi did a double-take when he saw that she was wearing one of his silk pajamas, with his initials embroidered on the chest pocket.

"You are wearing my pajamas," he says.

"I noticed," Sam says, shrugging.

"And you used my shampoo." He adds seconds after smelling the familiar scent on her.

"Didn't think you'd mind."

"Give that to me dear, I'll put it on the spinner for you." Mrs. Whitehall says, grabbing the clothes from her hand. "Thank you, Mrs. Whitehall, sorry for the trouble."

"Don't be silly dear, no trouble at all. At least you know how to appreciate an old lady, unlike Levi here, I do his laundry for him." Mrs. Whitehall says, leaving the two in peace. "I pay you to do that, Mrs. Whitehall." He retorts,

"Game, now." He adds looking at Sam.

"I will yeah" Sam retorts, copying his tone before then flopping on the sofa shutting her eyes for effect.

"You are displeased with me," Levi states, eyes narrowed.

"Your hospitality astounds me" Sam snorts, drying her hair with a towel.

"You want to be appreciated by me. Highly ambitious of you." He sneers, earning a scowl from her.

"Appreciate is a strong word. Welcome would have sufficed, Mr. Jackson."

"You are welcome," Levi says waving in a bored manner.

"Welcomed must be a subjective perception then, to you I am welcome, to me, I don't feel welcomed," Sam argues. "I do not see the point of this debate," Levi says, getting annoyed with all the talking.

"You should, you must. See, Mr. Jackson when someone doesn't feel welcomed, they don't tend to return to an establishment." Sam explains. "Ahhh... Now I see it, you are threatening me of not coming back here? " Levi surmised.

"Threaten is a strong word, Warning would match perfectly. And why would I? Would you Mr. Jackson come to my Lab for days on end if you do not feel welcomed in my presence? Like a patron would to an establishment? I THINK NOT." Sam argued, eyes challenging his. There was a long eerie silence as he weighed his options.

"And how would you feel welcome, Dr. Gray?" Levi asked a few seconds later.

"Offer me tea." She instructs with her nose pointed up self-satisfied that he was starting to see her way.

"How about some tea, Dr. Gray?" Levi says, in a mock hospitable tone, a fake smile on his face.

"Oh lovely, tea would do nicely thank you," Sam said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Very well then... MRS. WHITEHALL!!!" Levi yelled, making Sam jump at the sound, and she mentally face-palmed. Of course, what else could she have expected?

"What in the world is it, Levi!?" Mrs. Whitehall asked, entering the room rattled.

"Tea and biscuits would be great, thank you!" Levi says, dismissively.

"Now, let's play," Levi tells Sam, leaning towards the table with the chessboard.