sugar town .

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Samson was raised in a tight knit family, though one that prided itself on its tough love approach to affection. Play fighting was a staple of his childhood and the one time he told his mom he was being bullied, she asked him what he was doing to defend himself rather than rushing into the school to sort it out herself. It was a mentality that he had carried through to his relationship and it was both helpful and harmful-- helpful because Shannon had her own issues around vulnerability, but harmful in that he could sometimes go too far the other way. He was confident in himself and extra confident in their relationship, so felt he had nothing to prove by going on about it. What he didn't notice was that Shannon didn't deflect affection for the same reasons, and in fact probably needed more reassurance than he was giving her. Case in point: their last fight had started when he refused to say 'I love you' on demand, too busy making a point to see that it wasn't just her playing games with him, she really did want to hear it. But even Sam can't miss the obvious discomfort on her face at being so directly addressed. He narrows his eyes a little, trying to suss her out. After all, he might not say it enough but he wasn't at all uncomfortable about it when he did... ready to call her on it, he's cut off by her changing the music and he benches it for now. He smiles at her song choice, "that's what I'm talking about!" Returning the kiss, he pauses. "Then why don't we take it back to square one? We can act like it's our first date all over again, I'll do all the work." He eases her to the side so that he can get up. "I'll go outside and we can start all over again. I'll knock, you can invite me inside like I've never been here before, then I'll cook for you. Obviously you'll be the hot girl you've always been, bored of guys hitting on you and barely willing to give me a chance, just like you were back in the day. I'll be nervous and eager to please, but covering that up with bravado, doing a whole lot of negging to try and make you forget just how out of my league you are. Sound good?"

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Unlike Sam, Shannon never had a good example of love. Her parents loved each other and she knew they did, but their love was a foggy memory. Shan could barely remember her parents together, but when a memory did appear they were always smiling. Shannon's mom had passed away when she was twelve, smack in the middle of puberty and before boys began to ask her out. It could have went one way or the other. While Shannon could have turned overly promiscuous, she was shy without guidance. Her father never dated or remarried after his wife passed away, so Shannon had always lacked a female figure. Shannon's affections were always second guessed, and if she could pinpoint the flaws in her relationship with Sam, it came down to her insecurities. She looks up at him as he rises and confusion appears on her face. She's working out in her mind if she wants this amount of silliness, but as she looks around at the Christmas decorations she realizes she's already in it. "Okay," she's grinning now, lifting herself from the couch and twirling her long hair in her fingers. "I'm going to get changed... what does the hot girl next door wear? I'm going to Google it," her stockings make her feet slide on the wood flooring as she picks up traction, and mid walk through her trip to the bedroom she's sliding like she's on ice. Her wardrobe is excessive and picking an outfit is no easy task. But within minutes her candy cane boxers are replaced with a jean mini skirt and her top a shoulder-less crop. Shannon takes her time walking toward the knock of the door. Her long hair swooshes behind her as she pulls it open and sees Sam behind it once again. It's hard to keep from breaking character and she's almost cracking a smile. "You're late. Doesn't that mean my pizza's free?"

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He watches her as she goes, her stockinged feet slipping along the high gloss of their wooden floor. He was relishing details about her that he had once taken for granted, not just how beautiful she was but how vivacious she was, and how infectious her enthusiasm could be. Sam was terminally chill, a person who sometimes lost his temper but usually couldn't be bothered to. In truth it was only Shannon who managed to elicit much of any sort of reaction from him, everything from that fiery temper to bubbling enthusiasm, these were reserved for her. On the rare occasions that they had fought in front of their friends, they were always shocked to see Sam do anything more than shrug the situation off. But he enjoyed life more with her. If he was single all he would do is surf, skate, drive and sleep, with her he did everything that bit more enthusiastically. She also inspired him to break routine, as he was doing now, stood outside their place, running a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it over. As he waits for her to answer the door, he's surprised to sense that he actually feels a little bit nervous. Is this why middle aged couples were so into roleplay? "Sorry, had to drop the last girl off didn't I?" His teenage self came back to him so easily. He ran his eyes over her obviously and it was like seeing her anew, he wanted her just as badly as before but now there was an edge to it, like he wasn't sure she was into him at all. "Now are you gonna invite me in, or should I go on to the next one?"

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She curls a strand of hair in her index finger and props her other hand on the side of her hip. She wished she had some bubblegum.. bubblegum would have been so fitting. Instead she looks him up and down. God, she picked a good one. People spend their whole twenties looking for someone like Sam, and she's had him for almost five years. Physically and chemically, they were a better match than anyone she knew. Shannon had only been in two past relationships - one in high school and another shorter one after. That being said, she'd never had a sex fling and so in total she'd only slept with three people. She'd never questioned or wanted anymore than Sam, so when he distrusted her faithfulness she was always confused as to why he was. On social media Shannon may have portrayed herself a tease and a vixen, but in privacy she was far from it. "Well," she pops her hip and smacks her lips, "I guess since you're here." She widens the door and struts inside, "don't touch anything, I'd hate to get your greasy KFC fingers all over my things." Shannon grabs the bag of snow and sprinkles a handful behind her - for dramatics. She moves herself into the single armchair and raises her legs over the side, pulling her skirt up slightly as she does so. Lazily, she turns her head to him, "I can't believe I'm second choice."

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"Am I a pizza boy or some sort of KFC delivery man? You need to keep your insults straight," he said as he followed her inside, watching her walk. He made a big show of looking around the place, letting out a low whistle. "Wow, you sure do have a nice place here. Amazing how you afford it all on your own... is this your ex?" he asked, picking up a picture of the two of them, beaming at Disneyland. Next to it was a picture taken from one of the rides, Shannon mid-scream and Sam mouth in a wide open grin, his fingers held in the classic devil horns. It felt like forever ago. "He looks like a fun time. I assume he broke up with you, I bet you're still really torn up about that." He can't help but grin at her as he puts the pictures back. She's draped herself across the armchair and there's something so hot about it, it's a glimpse of the Shannon she portrays online. He decides he needs to be more @samshaw. Of course that was his online persona's girlfriend, so it's a struggle not to bow down and kiss her again. Her leg looks so smooth and it's begging to be touched, he wants to scoop her up and carry her to the bedroom but knows it would be premature. Instead he makes his way toward the kitchen, talking over his shoulder. "You're only second because she almost put out. If you go all the way, you're all the way to the top baby," he says, opening the fridge and collecting the ingredients for the only thing he knew how to make: chicken parmigiana. He's made it for her a thousand times but not for a good while.. he hasn't done anything for her in a good while now that he thinks of it, not even before he left. He resolved to be a better boyfriend. "I hope you're not a vegetarian. If you're vegan I'll be getting the first Uber outta here."

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"Shit, I mean Dominos fingers," she breaks, lips pulling into an 'oops' as she does so. Her doe eyes watch as he strolls around. He's a much better actor than her, she's already wanting to get lazy and touchy. "Well, you know. Instagram pays," she cranes her neck to see what he's pointing at. They look so happy in their Mickey Mouse ears. She got a bit motion sick on Splash Mountain, but besides that it was their more memorable chips. "He was okay. Left me to go ride some kangaroos, I couldn't tell if he meant the mammal or the barbie," she's fucking up her Australian. Was barbie a woman or a barbecue? She looks over to watch what he's doing, her head resting on the palm of her hand. "You sound desperate, maybe you should try the next one." Shannon's a shitty actress and is letting her curiosity get the better of her. She folds her legs under her bum and hangs off the back of the chair, craning her neck to see what he's picking out of her near empty fridge. "No carbs, that's my only rule. I'm on a high protein diet. I like a salad leaf now and again, but nothing huge." He removes things from the fridge and she's remembering she rearranged the entire kitchen - a deranged action she fulfilled while being a) vindictive and b) busy. "Knives are in that one.. not that one. And pans are up there," she uses her finger to point, "I had to redo it all. Just in case my ex broke in and tried to cook up a chicken parm. He knows the way to my heart is through my stomach."

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"I wouldn't know, I think social media is vapid," said Sam, who in fact was just as obsessed with it as she was. He couldn't put his finger on what it was that he found so addictive about Instagram, he had never been hugely concerned about popularity and he was all too aware of how artificial the platform was, but there was something so moreish about the constant stream of praise and approval. Maybe it was all that tough love he'd endured. He can't help but laugh at her Australian parody, a distinctive bark of a laugh that was undeniably his own. "Crikey Sheila, didja date Croc Dundee?" he asked in a hugely exaggerated version of his own accent. One of his favourite things about Shannon was the mere fact that she could understand him clearly, so used was he to having to repeat himself over and over. In fact she acted as a translator a lot of the time, explaining what he'd just said in terms even a valley girl could understand.  It's amusing to him how badly she's failing at this. She was so childlike sometimes, incapable of focusing her attention, leaning over the side of the couch like a kid trying to catch a glimpse of their birthday cake before its ready. Still, things have changed in the kitchen and that bothers him slightly, both for the inconvenience and the symbolic act. "Thanks, i'm glad you remembered I've never been here before," he said, setting out the ingredients and laying the chicken out flat. "He really does sound like a keeper, tell me more about him. What were his best qualities, besides being devilishly good looking and buff?"

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She laughs at his comment, a big mean laugh that is meant to come off as judgmental. In actuality, the house was paid with both their instagram platforms. Paid for by likes, sponsorships, and random event that they attended. While Shannon pulled in a lot of money individually, they were more powerful as a couple. People wanted to see Shannon and Sam, and were always disappointed when one was lacking the other. Their 'break-up' had an impact on both their accounts. Shannon facing her mass of curious to judgmental comments as well as losing followers. She was called boring (and had offers for dick) so many times that she disabled direct messages. It was a lesson in shitting where you eat, but it was also a lesson for letting go of someone worth while. At this point Shannon is making goo-goo eyes rather than bored ones. Watching him work in the kitchen makes her fidget in her seat, and she wants to be right up with him. "Sam Shaw? Besides being the worst?" she looks at her fresh manicure and thinks long and hard. "I guess he was funny, he made me laugh more than anyone or anything else. He was pretty okay in bed, King of the Sheets I guess. He was just so all around okay and I suppose I loved that," she yawns obnoxiously and turns back around in her chair, swinging her legs back off to the side. "Do you think it'll be ready soon? I'm falling asleep."

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It was a ridiculous house for a couple in their early twenties to own, overlooking the ocean on an expensive strip of Malibu beach. It was especially ridiculous that it was paid for with pictures of Sam shirtless and Shannon in a bikini, or Shannon's already white teeth next to whitening strips or Sam blindly insisting that there was only one brand of surfwax in the whole world that actually worked. He knew that social media was a wave that would crash down eventually, and somewhere in the back of his mind he worried for Shannon - not because she cared about it more, but because she didn't strictly have another job. Of course she could become a regular model, but he suspected that she wouldn't like all the shoots and the runways, not when she was used to quickly snapping a selfie.  He's pulling out saran wrap and grinning to himself as she reels off his good points, though something she says makes him stop. "Now listen," he says, indignant enough to break character, "the one and only thing I put any effort into in my life is keeping you sexually satisfied, if you pull that 'okay' shit on me one more time I'm gonna stop trying and then you'll really have something to complain about." He grinned at her, rolling pin in hand, "though King of the Sheets is ok, you can keep saying that." He laughed as she rushed him, remembering this to be true from their early days. She had been bratty then and it had obviously been a ploy, she'd made him work for it and in return had managed to seal years of his devotion. He started beating the chicken out flat, ignoring her complaints. "Let me tell you about my ex then, that'll keep you awake. She looked just like a sluttier Emma Watson, I was a fool to let her go."

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Shannon didn't have an skills that warranted a paycheck. Even now, her income was unstable. She couldn't pinpoint how much she would rake in a month as she would be either over or under. Sam was lucky, he was talented in other areas. Shannon wasn't academic, creative or good at sports. What she would do after all of the instagram bullshit was often unsaid. It terrified Shannon, as she really wasn't good at much else and her social media profile had an expiration date. She smiles softly and winks, "thigh-numbingly good." He pounds the chicken down and she's memorized by it. The veins in his forearm pop slightly and his bicep flexes, Shannon is on the verge of breaking character again. Instead she fidgets. Her arms rise above her head as she yawns, her back flexes backward on the arm of the chair and her soft hair dangles. "Emma Watson can't be slutty, she's too much of a booknerd. I call bullshit!" She looks at him upside down for a minute, but tips herself back up the moment she gets flushed watching him beat a chicken. "Emma Watson isn't special either, she's got frizzy hair. I'll need more to go off of."

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On some level, Sam knew what his gut told him about their future: he'd handle it. Despite their lack of seriousness when it came to fiscal responsibility, they hadn't been completely reckless with their purchasing. This house was a good investment and was in both of their names. They hadn't indulged in stupid cars or even really on extravagant holidays, not when they both managed to go on sponsored trips of some sort. If they could keep their good fortune for a few years they would have a good foundation, and from there his earnings could cover the rest. Assuming he never hurt himself too badly to work, or the housing market crashed, or his visa got declined... It didn't bear thinking about, so he stopped. "Attagirl," he says approvingly, beaming with pride despite the fact he had basically made her say it. He watches her as she stretches, the thin band of skin exposed at her waist as her arms rise is as tantalising as full nudity by this point. He busies himself prepping the skillet, whisking egg and getting the breadcumbs ready. "Emma Watson if she'd spent her school days smoking behind the bike shed." He shrugged, not looking at her, knowing seeing her would make him break character and laugh. "Did I say her hair wasn't frizzy? It could be, you should have seen her first thing in the morning, out on the beach. Anyway. What else to say about her... she was all talk. Acted like this big tough chick, but was like marshmallow on the inside, the sweetest person I've ever met."

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Shannon suddenly can't sit any longer. Like the urge to fidget is just as large as an urge to scratch at a bug bite. She swings her legs back around and fixes her hair with her long fingers. "Ew," she comments, it could be in character or out of character. A sweet squishy marshmellow was not a metaphor she wanted to be aligned with. "I'm offended for you, what an unattractive quality," Shannon lifts herself from the armchair and strolls (with the adjective sultry going through her head) toward the tree. "Look," she reaches into the box of rejects and pulls out an ornament with their faces on it. Baby's First Christmas it reads, the frame adorned with pink reindeer and the picture in the center features Shannon suckering Sam into a mistletoe kiss. "I wasn't going to put these up but since it's Halloween next week," she plucks it on an open branch and follows it with a dozen more memories.

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"Before I met her I would have agreed with you," Samson said, realising it to be true. He was a brutally upfront person, painfully honest and without airs and graces. It was something he blamed on his Australianness and it was true that Australians were more blunt than Americans, but even if he wasn't born south of the equator he probably would have been the same way. Before the duplicity would have offended him, but knowing Shannon as well as he did, he understood where it was coming from and liked the extra dimension to her personality. Besides, she was chill upfront, and that was the most important thing. He watches her putting memories on the tree, and this is too saccharine for him to bear. "If you don't stop I'm going to intentionally undercook this chicken and let us both spend the rest of the month puking and shitting uncontrollably," he says, effectively cutting through the atmosphere. Then guilt creeps in, and he follows her, giving her a peck on the lips. "Love you, even if you are a total embarrassment."

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Shan smiles - a bit disgusted with being called sweet but mostly pleased that he likes it. The brunette was always trying to come off as tougher than she was. She had a major attitude and could be a royal spoiled brat, but besides throwing record-blowing hissy fits she also had a big heart. Shannon would do almost anything for the two major men in her life (Sam and her father) even if she did tell them she hated them sometimes. Shannon's mouth drops at his threat but her mock-shock is quick to turn into a grin once she realizes that he's broken character. "Hey, we're so cute here though," she pouts and lifts up a picture, a picture in which he is taking up 3/4 of the frame. Sam Shaw was Ryan Reynolds before Ryan Reynolds was Ryan Reynolds. He kisses her and she grabs behind his neck to hold him longer, the tip of her tongue licking the point of his nose playfully as he breaks away. "I'm only embarrassing for you," she bats her brown eyes and turns to pluck the last ornament on the faux branches. "Would the big boy like to put the star on the tree?" she hands him a glittery gold star, "I know last year we had an angel but angels remind me of pedophiles. I know they shouldn't, but I don't like how they don't blink."

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With the chicken cooking, Sam goes to the fridge and grabs himself a beer, placing the edge of the cap against the countertop and knocking it off with a firm tap. He downed half the bottle in one smooth glug. "Want one?" he asked, remembering that he hadn't asked his beloved. He laughs lightly at the picture, remembering the day it was taken and how annoying he was being. She's laughing in the picture, but whenever he was in one of his moods he knew he was also pretty fucking intolerable, and he was lucky that on that particular day she was clearly willing to put up with it. As she holds him close to deepen the kiss he's hit by another wave of lust, one that forces him to pull away before he gets carried away. He smiles down at her after she's licked at him, stroking her cheek slightly with his thumb. God, she was perfect. "It's a privilege to get your worst side," he said dryly, though it was. He laughed at her angel reasoning, eyes resting on the star. "Nah. Here, get up," he put the beer down as she stood, before pulling an arm around her waist, picking her up as if she weighed nothing. He took a few steps over to the tree, holding her up, "you're the Christmas fairy, you do it."