2007-07-19: Taking the Next Step


Namir_icon.gif Samantha_icon.gif


Namir proposes! … that he and Samantha move in together.

Date It Happened: July 19th, 2007

Taking the Next Step

Namir's Apartment, Queens

Dinner's come and gone, leaving dishes to be washed, which Namir is now doing. It's a bit late for dinner, but it's been an interesting and long day. The apartment somehow manages to look a little more cluttered and smaller than it actually is, but then it usually does at night. Outside is the soft pattering of water dripping off fire escapes and roofs after an early evening rain, but it's mostly drowned out by a radio playing in the living room.

Okay, so sometimes, when Sam has a late shift, she'll stop at Namir's place and sack, especially if she has another shift come early. And just so, there's a matching staccato pattern on his door; he'll find Sam in scrubs leaning in the doorway and looking tired. "Hey, baby." she greets him upon entering. "Sorry I'm late, we had a few GSW's come in."

Normally when there's a knock on the door at this hour, it's Sam or the crazy neighbor lady across the way who seems obsessed with catching Namir in some state of undress. Kinda creepy, that. Naturally, Namir lets the doctor in with a quick peck. "You even dressed nice for me," he chuckles. "You missed dinner, but I think I have some leftover takeout in the refrigerator if you wanted me to heat something up for you." He's already half-stepping toward the kitchen as though to do just that.

"That would be great, thanks. If it wasn't for Mrs. McReady, poor Fiyero would starve, but I'm just so beat. Don't let me fall asleep ass up on the couch, okay?" She gives him a kiss in passing, starts to head to the living room, but then wheels around to go keep him company in the kitchen. "I've been looking at some brochures for cabins upstate."

In the kitchen, the fridge is opened and a few styrofoam takeout boxes pulled out. As Namir dishes out the cold remains of some sort of Middle-Eastern cuisine, he smiles a bit. "Anything promising?" Into the microwave goes the plate, and a few button presses later, it's heating up.

Samantha nods. "A couple." she says, smiling wearily. "It's also going to be necessary to figure out what people can budget." She runs a hand through her hair. "And lessee, you, me, Bekah, William, Erica…who else?"

Namir turns around to face Sam and leans back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. "Actually, I talked to William today. I don't think he's going to make it due to his leg." Jerking both eyebrows up slightly he deadpans, "You'd better keep an eye on him. He might sweep me off my feet one day." In other words: William is still loopy on painkillers.

"Aw, nuts." Sam says. "Well, no reason for it to only happen once. He can make it another time. And I don't believe for a minute that even stoned on morphine he'd be all 'you've got a cute ass'."

"You should have heard what he said to me when he thought you were seeing a Jewish doctor behind my back," grunts Namir. And he leaves it at that, because the telltale beepbeepbeeping signals that the microwave's done. Out comes the plate, which is held out to Sam. "Something to drink?"

Samantha nods. "Water's good, juice if you've got it. Nothing with caffeine or I'll ping the walls all night." She accepts the plate with a murmured thank you. "So hopefully I've used up my stuck-in-elevator karma, too."

"Well then I'm sorry I don't have anything caffeinated." Maybe there's a little innuendo there. Who knows? Namir grins as he pulls open the refrigerator and takes out a carton of apple juice. "Speaking of your building and the idiots running it— " he fills a glass, caps the carton, and replaces it in the fridge "— I have something for you. Let me get it." And out of the kitchen he goes to rummage around on the entertainment center in search of something.

Samantha brings out her plate and juice and moves to sit in the living room, putting the juice on the coffee table and resting the plate in her lap. She folds her legs indian style and watches him in amusement.

Because this particular corner of the entertainment center is The Place To Put Things upon getting in the door, it takes a little time for Namir to rummage through the papers and other miscellany there. Finally, however, he comes up with a section of newspaper that's been folded a lot, and not in a typical fashion — more the sort of folding one would use for origami or the like. This he brings back to the couch, where he takes a seat next to Sam and holds it out for her to see. "There." It's a section of the classifieds — apartments, to be exact. Some have been circled and crossed out, others have been circled and notes in Arabic written in the margins. Most of them appear to come with a bit of an expensive rent. And all of them are in the Manhattan area.

Samantha stares at it for a moment, and then puts some food in her mouth. Chews. Then. "Huh."

Hmm. Not exactly the reaction he was expecting. Maybe there's something wrong. Namir glances between the paper and Sam. "What?" Did that crazy lady in the coffee shop write something obscene?

"No, it's great." Sam picks up the newspaper and peruses the ads, but it's sort of absentminded. "I'm just tired, is all." She takes another bite of food and sets to reading the ads. "What are these notes? I don't read Arabic, you know."

Oh, well of course not. "Notes on how far away from Mount Sinai some of them are and pet policies." Namir half-shrugs. "I figured if we split the rent, we could afford it. They're bigger than this one." Then again, sardine cans come in larger sizes than this apartment.

Samantha blinks. "Wait, what? Backup." What's this 'we' thing she heard? Or maybe she didn't hear.

Namir adopts a wholly innocent expression. "I said they were notes on how far away the apartments are from Mount Sinai and their pet policies," he reiterates. The corners of his mouth twitch just the faintest bit as he fights back a smirk. "See, this word here is 'cats' and this one is 'accepted'." He points to each scribble to indicate.

Samantha works her mouth around another forkful of food. "Are you saying," she says once she swallows, "That you want to move in with each other? Share a habitat full time? With rats and a cat and our underwear sharing a drawer?" She eyes the written script blithely. "I don't think it says that. You sir, are full of poo."

"Well." Namir squints at the ceiling as though taken by sudden thought. "I don't know about our underwear sharing a drawer. My wonderful Muslim boxers might be tainted by your Jewish underthings." He grins. "But I think the moving-in-with-each-other bit is what I was getting at, yes. That's usually the next step in this sort of thing, isn't it?"

Samantha starts to smile. "I suppose it is." she admits. "Man. I suppose it's time I came clean with my mother if I'm going to be moving in with you. Oy." She pinches the bridge of her nose.

Namir's own smile dulls some at that, and he sets aside the paper. "Mm, mine too. If my brother hasn't told her already. All she knows is that you are not Muslim." The rest was sort of conveniently left out. Piling it all on is going to be rather difficult. After a moment's thought, he smiles wryly. "It's ridiculous, really. We shouldn't have to worry about such things."

"But we do." Sam says. "Gah. I may as well get it over with. I'll tell her, and then maybe you can come over for dinner."

"Mm." Namir lays his head against the backrest and considers the ceiling for a moment before turning his face toward Sam. His brow furrows in a wholly not-serious concerned frown. "What am I going to wear? My shining armor and halo are being cleaned."

Samantha mock threatens him with a forkful of food. "You'll be lucky if she doesn't try to ply you with Manishewitz, you heathen."

Namir grins again at that, pulling his head back a little to avoid death by fork. "So I'll bring my helmet and a food tester. Got it." Humor's a great way to disarm fear, because in truth, he's never been more nervous to meet anyone in his entire life than he is about meeting Sam's mother. Lifting a hand, he moves to poke Samantha's nose playfully before adding, "On that wonderful note, I think I'll go to bed. Are you coming?"

"I'm not even breathing hard." she replies, which is excessively mature of her, but it's followed by a yes, "Yes, I'm coming."

Another amused grin from Namir as he leans forward for a quick kiss. "I could fix that, you know." Two people can be immature. But then he rises from the couch and heads for the bedroom. If she wants to take him up on that offer, that's where he'll be.

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