She was smirking. He was sure of it. And it was driving Sam crazy.
Kit had been walking with a mirthful spring in her step when they left the station, and Sam had gotten the distinct impression that it was due to some joke at his expense. Now he was trapped behind the wheel of the squad car, that feeling had only grown. His eyes flicked toward his partner and sure enough, she was smirking. Sam sighed. “Something you want to say?”
“Who, me?” she replied. “Nothing to say. I’m just curious about something.”
“Go on then?” Sam said. He was determined to keep his eyes on the road now, but he still new that Kit’s smirk had widened into a grin.
“Boxers or briefs?”
Sam clenched his jaw. He’d known something like this was coming. Kit was not the sort to let a joke die. “Why are you so curious?” he asked with a thin hope of turning the teasing back on her.
Kit was completely unfazed. “You’re wearing briefs aren’t you?”
Sam had the distinct impression that she was examining his pants, looking for some sort of tell. “You think I care about your opinion on my underwear?” He shot back.
Y”ou should! Everyone knows I have impeccable taste.” Sam shook his head, but didn’t say anything further. This seemed to be the same as an answer for Kit. “Sooooo…” she began, intonation dripping with implication, “classic tighty-whities, or did you go for a more daring shade? Every man should have a pair of black—”
“Gray,” Sam cut in.
“Gray? Well it’s pretty boring, but—”
“You’re still wearing the dead guy underwear?” she exploded. “After all your brooding yesterday, you still—”
“I was not brooding.”
“You’re doing it right now!” she said, almost delighted. “You look like you’re trying to get your eyebrows to touch your lips.”
It was such a startling comment that Sam momentarily took his eyes off the road to glance at his own reflection in the mirror. Dammit, she had a point. Kit must have seen the realization hit because she immediately started cackling.
“It’s just underwear!” he exclaimed. But the mantra was no more convincing to Kit than it had been any of the times he had repeated it to himself over the last 24 hours.
“A deeeeead man’s undearweeeeear! Spoooooky!” she said before bursting into a fresh bout of giggles.
Sam’s face was hot. His hands grew sweaty on the wheel. “I have the underwear I have,” he said. It came out softly, not forceful, not a shout. Just a helpless declaration. But something about it must have made an impression on Kit, because her laughter trailed off almost immediately.
They drove in silence for a full minute, both of them staring straight ahead. Then Kit finally spoke. “Boxers.”
“Orange, with little dinosaurs on them.”
Kit shrugged. “Now you know what sort of underwear I’m wearing too.”
Another moment of silence as the statement settled in. “You wear boxers?” Sam asked.
Kit shrugged. “They’re comfy.” She was smirking again, but this time Sam was included. “There’s a whole world of underwear options out there, Sam. You’ve just gotta think outside the boxer-briefs.”
* * *
Story by Gregory M. Fox