The States

(i don't know how not to love you- one)

June 9, 1745- VA
Samantha is clearly Foster's favorite. He clings to her, and Samantha lets him. She never snaps at him for pulling on her skirt or for waking her up with a nightmare.

Alfred isn't sure what to make of it. 

August 12, 1745- VA
"Let's go climb trees." Foster pulls on her skirts, trying to tug her outside.

Sam bites her lip. "I don't climb trees."

He stops, horrified. "Never?"

"Not for a very long time."

Foster seems to think about this before he nods. "Come on, I'll show you how."

Sam nearly falls from the sudden yank on her wrist. "Foster-"

"Please?"

Sam caves when he gives her the puppy dog eyes. "Alright."

November 5, 1747- VA
Foster laughs as Samantha flushes crimson.

All he had done was kiss her on the cheek, and she had blushed.

Sam silently curses the Puritans.

May 12, 1748- VA
Foster is silent as he pads down the hall.

He opens the third door on the left, the one with the mayflowers painted on it.

"Sammy?"

Samantha is asleep, but the tabby cat sleeping beside her isn't.

The cat pokes its head up from where it's tucked against Samantha's chest. And meows. Loudly.

Samantha startles, almost falling off of the bed. She blinks when she catches sight of the boy half-hiding behind her door.

"Foster?"

"J'ai eu un mauvais rêve." He mutters. Samantha quickly translates it in her head. I had a bad dream.

Samantha moves over to lay against the wall. Foster climbs into her bed, tucking his body up against hers and waiting as she pulls the quilts tighter around them.

Foster smiles when she wraps her arms around him. Nothing bad can happen to him like this.

He whispers a goodnight, already half asleep, staying awake long enough to hear Sam say it back.

September 2, 1748- VA
Foster can't help his surprise when Sam gives him her stuffed bear.

He bites his lip as he reflexively holds it closer. "But I thought Al gave it to you?"

Sam shrugs like it's nothing, like the bear hadn't had the spot of honor on her bed for half a decade. "And now I'm giving it to you."

November 23, 1748- VA
Samantha listens carefully to the sound of small feet padding down the hall, and then her door creaking open.

Foster had been having bad dreams all week, and coming to her all week. She'd just started to stay up and wait for him.

She keeps her eyes closed as Foster climbs up and crawls into her bed.

Poke. Poke. Pokepokepoke.

"Foster, I'm awake. Stop poking me."

"Je suis désolé." He mutters. His feet touch her leg and she flinches back.

"You're cold." She tells him when he gets that sad puppy look on his face.

"Sorry."

"Have another nightmare?"