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The smell of heady and sludgy fish meat embedded itself in Sam’s nose as he woke up with a start. The smell passed as a seagull flew by the bedroom window, its bill full with its rotten treasure. Noxious car exhaust and the smell of buttered gym socks, a common aroma within the tightly packed in streets of New York, filled in the absence of rotten fish air quality. This was not entirely why Sam woke up.
Remains of his nightmare flitted in his mind, images of his teeth gritted and exploding into a mess of blood and pulverized enamel. The adrenaline made his heart race and he heaved a heavy sigh, trying to stave off a heart attack because it’d be more exciting to have his first one while out on a heart-stopping case. Something like this would just be embarrassing.
“Sam?” Max sounded groggy as he leaned upward from his nearly demolished pillow, full of teeth marks and drenched in his unique scent. He rubbed at his eyes before that piercing stare of his settled on Sam. If it was anyone but Sam their knees would be knocking and they’d anticipate Max biting their ankles. Sam expected this too but he had enough experience to know exactly when to grab a lunging Max and throw him away.
“Ain’t nothin’ to worry about. Go back to sleep, Max,” Sam said but his voice sounded constrained by the fuzziness of REM sleep and the lingering adrenaline. It could’ve been misinterpreted as being rattled which was probably why Max tilted his head curiously.
Sam half-expected him to volunteer that they get in some self-care by going out into the streets and beating up crooks robbing jewelry stores. As if Max knew what self-care was in the first place, though. He did not make the suggestion, instead grabbing Sam’s pajama sleeve and pulling. The force of it was enough to make Sam move at least three inches. Max threw the covers off himself and jumped out of bed.
“C’mon, Sam, let’s go driving!” he exclaimed, fervor evident in his eyes.
Sam rolled his head around, cracking his neck like a bag of bang snaps exploding on the concrete. “I wouldn’t say no, pal, but ain’t ya tired? You’re obnoxious when ya get cranky from lack o’ sleep.”
“Nuh-uh, I guzzled down a whole pot of coffee at dinner, so I wanna go.” Max yawned so wide Sam could see his tonsils.
Sam stretched, cracking his back. “All right. I’m driving, though.”
Max didn’t complain this time, just headed to the other side of the bed and yanked on Sam’s arm to make him get up faster. That made Sam jab two fingers against Max’s skull. They made their way down to the Desoto, Sam not bothering to change out of his pajamas because he didn’t really care if anyone saw them.
The Desoto’s wheels squealed as Sam slammed on the gas pedal. If they ended up running over any perps that’d be a bonus. The city rocketed past them as they drove with no destination in mind. The Desoto went over eighty. It was the best for the city that they miraculously went driving around when no one was on the road or if there were any actual law enforcement skulking around.
Sam’s mind turned to the song of making people laugh but it was refocused onto Max and demanded, “Make him laugh, make him laugh,” in that classic Hollywood showmanship. When they passed by an old post office Sam remembered to bring up something that had been rolling in his brain for a while.
“Hey, Max.”
Max flopped down from the open window, fixing his ears because they got battered by the harsh wind. “What?”
“Were you ever afraid of meetin’ people when you were president?”
“Nah,” Max said flippantly. “No matter who you are, everyone has got a night where they threw up their breakfast, lunch and dinner and they had enough sick in their guts to have to go run to the sink for round two.”
“That’s a beautiful mental image, Max.”
His husband pointed at his teeth. “And these are great diplomacy tools.”
“I know,” Sam said. “You used great diplomacy when that guy tried to hit the kid with a baseball bat. I dunno if I’ve ever seen the inside of someone’s arm like that before. Though if I had, it was ‘cause of you.”
“Hitting lumpy with a baseball bat is a privilege, not a right,” Max said primly.
“They did get you back one time,” Sam reminded him. At least when it came to Max, the kid seemed to relish the challenge no matter what form it displayed.
“Big deal. Lumpy one, Max fifty.”
“You’re getting stale with it, little buddy,” Sam said as he turned an illegal left. “I should get ya somethin’ new to keep the kid on their toes.”
“Oh, you spoil me, Sam,” Max said. He planted a wet kiss on Sam’s cheek just to be extra obnoxious and giggled when Sam’s paw pushed his head away.
“Not while I’m drivin’, I could hit a mailbox.”
“Why delay the inevitable, Sam?” Max’s voice was muffled by Sam’s paw.
“I need more momentum if we want it to go flying.”
The Desoto did eventually make a mailbox go flying. It made a terrific crash when it fell down hard onto the concrete.
Eventually the Desoto took them out to a somewhat rural area. The stars were murdered by air pollution, leaving the sky an inky ocean like someone spilled an inkwell. Sam put the car in park but he didn’t get a moment’s peace because Max grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down with surprising strength.
“Max - “ Sam got cut off as his head landed in Max’s lap. His back was going to hate him tomorrow. Max’s warm paws rested on his shoulder and head.
“See? Wasn’t I right t’ drag you outta the apartment? Ya feel better, don’t ya?”
Sam exhaled, content, as Max started scratching at his ears in just the right spot. He couldn’t remember his nightmare anymore, just a general sense of unease that would dissipate in the coming morning when they’d do whatever they wanted.
“Yeah, I do. Thanks, little buddy.”
“I was double right,” Max bragged. “I remembered that ‘bout ten or five years ago ya used to take the Desoto for a spin if ya ever had a nightmare.”
Sam slightly tilted his head up to look at his husband. “You remember that, huh? I always thought you were asleep whenever I drove around with ya.”
“If I was awake you woulda made me walk to and from the car,” Max said. “You know, sometimes ya would park and look like a kicked puppy and squeeze the ever-living daylights outta me. You thought I always slept through that?”
“You’ve slept through worse.”
Sam did remember those nightmares back then, handprints staining his mind of when he lost this timeline’s Max all those years ago. During those times he always had to have Max close. He didn’t know if his little buddy had nightmares like that but he always wanted him nearby. Sam had a sudden realization that he couldn’t put an exact date to when he last had a nightmare about that time: he used to be able to anticipate it with a high success rate.
Even so, sometimes the old ache remained like a scar and the grief didn’t wane as it was a heavy stone within him. He didn’t know if it could be considered healing if the pain never really left, the hurt of when they lost each other. But Max was here. It was a miracle that Sam would never take for granted.
Sam turned onto his back, slightly wincing at his muscles complaining. Anyone would’ve marveled at the inky night sky but his gaze never left Max’s face. Max continued to scratch his ears. Sam closed his eyes for just a moment.
“Max? Did I ever thank you for coming here?”
“Here? I wanted to drive, Sam, I dunno if we woulda ended up here if I was behind the wheel.”
“Not that, knucklehead – fine, if you wanna you can put our breakfast in the microwave,” Sam said, easily coming to a compromise. “I meant… coming here. Back to me.”
“As much as I deserve endless praise, ya don’t gotta thank me,” Max said. He placed his paw against Sam’s cheek. “Ain’t nothin’ out there in the whole damn world that would’ve stopped me.”
He looked confused as Sam leaned to sit up in the car seat. Then he squeaked when Sam swept him up into a hug, near squeezing the daylights out of him. This embrace said I love you more than anything in the whole damn world, giving it all back to his little buddy.
“Continuing the tradition, Sam?” Max wheezed.
“Let a guy be sentimental, little pal,” Sam replied.
He let go and when Max settled into the seat he let his head fall against Sam’s shoulder. “I think you crushed three of my ribs.”
Sam ruffled his head and put an arm around him. “You’ll live.”
The Desoto began its destination back home. Max fell asleep while they were coming home and once they were lopsidedly parked by the curb Sam continued tradition by picking him up and carrying him back to bed. In routine time Sam made it back to their apartment and their bedroom. When Sam settled down to finally go back to sleep, Max bundled closely in his arms, his sleep was peaceful.