#belated wip wendnesday

[booburry]

Belated WIP Wednesday:

Cause I can never remember what day of the week it is apparently 🙃

Update on Echoes in Time, Chapter 4: A star is born

Update: Feeling a little guilty with my pace for this chapter, but I am sure it's fine. Thought to put the start of the next chapter below, while I work on the ending structure and then add in detail; about 80% done...I think. Work week has been absolutely draining so it's been a slow chapter progress but I am also setting up a lot for the future chapters and Sam & Mallory's long-term journey that spans the fic.

Also, just a general thing I have been thinking of stating: I plan to and intend on avoiding describing any and all physical features I can when it comes to Mallory. I just prefer that you can fill the visual of the story with your own imagery of her. I don't know if this is something people have been bothered by or wondering where the descriptors are, but this is why. Happy to share what I imagine her looking but I wouldn't expect it to find it's way into the fic.

Lastly, I swear I never ramble IRL...the chapter will probably end up being close to 8k words? I won't (probably) apologize for it.

Content warning: unintended nudity

The idea that Mallory’s mood could have gotten worse from the moment she admitted to ‘outing’ herself as a time-travelling ‘alien’ would seem improbable to impossible.

Unfortunately, as if struck by bad luck, it did.

It’s those damn Coe’s and their stupid book. Mallory grumbled within herself as she put on her socks before getting out of bed to get dressed for the day. She laid out some clothes on her bed, she sheet and blanket messily bunched up from her active sleeping—she never stayed still.

She was pondering over two options when, unexpectedly, there was a light knock on the door.

“One moment!” Mallory called out, upset and anxious that she suddenly felt rushed to decide what she was going to wear.

“Yup, no problem...” Sam called out, making Mallory instinctively grab a blanket to cover her exposed parts despite there being no way he could see her.

It would also be a lie if Mallory claimed the idea of only a panel of wood standing between Sam and her didn’t also excite her—her mind compulsively jumping into the deep end of that fantasy, losing herself until she heard Sam clear his throat from the hallway.

“I just put on my socks!” Mallory called out, rushing to pick an outfit and frustratingly, now knowing that he would be the first to see her left Mallory wishing to put more…effort into her choices.

It also just made her anxiety rise and her executive function vanish.

“Okay,” Sam called out, Mallory smiling as she just pictured him slightly rocking back onto his heels with his hands in his pockets.

Naturally, she reached up to grab Sam’s necklace to realize it wasn’t there. Without hesitation, that became Mallory’s next goal but she couldn’t seem to find it. Clothes were flying, pillows, blankets and sheets were tossed off the bed, nightstands dramatically being opened and shut.

“Hey, you okay?” Sam asked with a great amount of concern, probably at the sudden loud sounds from within her room.

Mallory immediately felt as if her stomach was about to fall out of her ass as she realized, before being able to fully act, that Sam was about to walk in and see her wearing nothing but a pair of fuzzy socks.

“Sarah is wa—"

And boy did he.

“aaaaauuhh…mn.” Sam let out a prolonged, strained, sound that Mallory—if she were not frantically leaping over her bed to grab the sheet she threw to the side—would have teased him for relentlessly.

“Would you—” Mallory started to speak as she almost fell to the ground to roll herself into some amount of fabric. “Close the door!?” She called out to him, expecting him to walk out but the man, either in his confusion or boldness, stepped in and closed the door behind him.

His eyes were firmly on the floor.

“So…you, uh, put your socks on first, huh?” He slowly asked, obviously calculating a million things in his head as he sputtered out the words. Mallory felt her toes curl in as she stood up to securely wrap the sheet around herself.

“I don’t like the feeling of my bare feet touching things, okay?” Mallory muttered, feeling embarrassed by her quirks before immediately reminding herself of the complete invasion of her space, flashing a scorching glare at Sam. He didn’t see, of course, as his eyes were still glued to the floor. “Since when do you just walk in?”

“I—” Sam still wouldn’t look at her, which Mallory told herself was good, but god she also desperately wished he would. “You said socks…and then the noises...I, uh, I—” He tried to continue but still fell short. “I panicked.” He finally admitted, causing Mallory to feel a sudden urge she couldn’t resist.

“We’ll have to work on that.” She told him, mocking the words he had just used yesterday when she admitted she similarly panicked in a moment of high stress. But, despite the tone Sam may have used in themoment before, Mallory decided to say it with a slight, completely unfair, adjustment.

She pitched her voice deeper, making an effort to sound breathy while ensuring her words flowed together like silk and honey. She saw Sam’s chest pop out with a sudden and short exhale but the rest of his body was like stone.

“That’s…so cruel.” He told her, a light shake to his head, his face hidden behind his hat but Mallory knew how wide his smile was and the exact shade of crimson present on his cheeks from the tone he spoke in.

“You subjected yourself to this torture when you walked in here,” Mallory informed him with a matter-of-fact tone, losing herself in the moment. “Now, turn around and don’t look—please.” She quickly added the last request, her two parts already in contention, reminding her to not come off bossy or demand too much.

Sam just deeply chuckled.

“I would have preferred it if you just demanded me to.” He slowly glanced up at Mallory, who became immediately self-conscious about how tightly she had wrapped her sheet around her body. His eyes lingered, but at least he didn’t try to hide it, and he ensured to give Mallory a smirk and a playful, pronounced, wink.

“Turn. Around.” She reminded Sam with a teasingly annoyed tone while raising an eyebrow at him—a suppressed smile pushing its way forward as her heart beat against her chest.

“Mmmn,” Sam hummed as he immediately obeyed, “yeah…that’s much better.” He encouraged her, his tone just as taunting as Sam fought just as dirty in the game Mallory had started. His eyes looked towards the ceiling, Mallory’s gaze immediately being drawn to the pronounced curve of his strong neck.

“You’re so bad!” Mallory said with a laugh before realizing how the words she chose could be easily used against her when said to a person like Sam Coe.

She heard him hiss in a sharp inhale, a moment of silence and then…nothing.

“You alright?” She asked, a small concern that she had broken his ‘witty bone’.

“Yeah—well…no, but,” Sam paused another moment, Mallory truly starting to worry she had broken the man, “I wouldn’t change a thing. I just…can’t…really think, right now.” He slowly stated as his head leveled out and he awkwardly adjusted his posture. Mallory smirked.

“Blood rushing elsewhere?” She quickly asked.

“You could say that, sure.”