Uuuuh remember a million years ago when I asked for prompts and never filled them? Better late than never! I love SamMax but kinda suck at shippy stuff so I hope this is suitable for you, king of all things SamMax.
This is set before 12×20 (or we can pretend that episode never happened)
Sam tangles his fingers in Max’s. The bedside lamplight catches the silver of the ring on his pinky. Sam twists it gently, observes the tiny carvings and the tiny white stone embedded at the centre.
“What does this mean?” he asks, tapping the gem.
Max shifts his head from where it has been resting on Sam’s chest for the past hour, peeling open on sleepy eye. “Hm? Oh, that’s a moonstone. It’s a stone of strength. Supposed to bring calm and emotional stability and some other stuff I don’t remember.”
He drops his head back down and Sam feels his warm breath stir the hairs on his chest.
“Does it really bring calm?” he asks, sceptical.
“Maybe? Dunno,” Max answers lazily. “My grandma gave it to me when I was ten. Used to wear it on my thumb, then.” He’s quiet for a moment, still enough that Sam wonders if he fell back to sleep, but he stirs and props himself up on is elbow. “You don’t wear jewellery,” he says.
“Uh, no. I don’t.”
“I mean,” Max says, face scrunching as he thinks. “Well, you never drive your car. You always wear the same three shirts, all plaid, I might add.” A glances around the room. “Your bedroom is neater than a five-star hotel.”
“Yes?” Sam isn’t sure where he’s going with this.
“Do you own anything… special?” Max asks. “Something that’s really yours, that makes you happy.”
Sam thinks. He likes his laptop a lot, sure, but he didn’t acquire it by the most honest means. He remembers one shirt when he was younger that was his favourite, but it got stained beyond repair a long time ago. There’s the box of keepsakes under his bed… but not every memory in there is a happy one.
Sam settles on, “Why does it matter?”
Max gives him a small peck on the lips. “You deserve nice things, is all.” He unfastens one of the leather bands from his wrists and holds it out.
Sam blinks at him.
“Gimme your wrist, dummy,” Max prods, and fastens the bracelet around Sam’s wrist. It’s plaited tan leather, with a small silver bead in the middle. Max smiles, “Now you have something special.”
Sam doesn’t know what to say. He chuckles awkwardly. “Special because it’s from you?”
Max curls a strand of Sam’s hair around his finger. “Every time you look at it you’ll be reminded of the best sex you’ve ever had.”
artherra 