It was New Years Eve, a week after the end of the super storms, and the United States had finally opened its borders to the refugees who wished to return to their homes in California, Arizona, and Southern Texas.
Since Washington D.C. wouldn't be open again for another year, J.D. offered the group a place at his small beach house, just south of San Francisco. Sam shut his last suitcase and threw it onto his father's pick-up truck. Laura and him were driving up to San Francisco as soon as the gates opened. Their parents were coming in later because they had to take care of Sam's cousin and Laura's sister. Also, Sam and Laura's parents both held important jobs at the refugee camps that couldn't be abandoned for at least a month.
Sam climbed into his father's truck, which was recovered from Pennsylvania only two days ago. He was really glad that he was getting away from the cramped conditions at the refugee camp and moving to a beach house in San Francisco, although admittedly, it was colder up there.
Laura threw her luggage onto the back of the truck with a thump, and she too climbed into the truck. Sam started the engine, waved good-bye to his family, and stepped on the gas pedal. He wound around the unorganized and thin trails within the camp and, after a half hour or so, he finally navigated himself onto a heavily congested Interstate 5.
Passing the customs check without a problem, even though they both lacked a passport, they found themselves once again, back on American soil. The snow hadn't even reached the border, yet, when they drove pass San Diego, snow had already started piling up, inches deep. Los Angeles was the destination for most people, and Sam felt a sudden freedom in his driving speed when the masses of vehicles disappeared off the roads. Apparently, not many people wanted to return to North California yet.
Sam looked over at the passenger seat, and saw the Laura had fallen asleep. He smiled, looking at her seemed to banish all traces of the cold from the car, and it seemed as if the snow had already melted and the California Sun had taken the place of the clouds.
After nearly 5 hours of driving, Sam finally reached J.D.'s beach house. The snow had already piled up 7 feet in some places, though the snow was slowly melting and the roads seemed to be professionally snow plowed. Sam carefully woke Laura up, telling her that they were here, grabbed his luggage, assisted the sleepy Laura and walked up to the front door.
Funnily, carrying luggage on his shoulders, arms, both hands, and Laura on his back, he was left with no option but knocking on the door with his head. Brian answered, and laughed out loud, seeing the state in which Sam was in,
"Gee, thanks." Sam muttered sarcastically.
"Hey, what's up, Sam?" J.D. came walking into the room. "We've just begun cooking our dinner. Maybe you could help me control Brian? Yesterday, he knocked over an entire can of salt."
"Hey! That was an accident!" Brian retorted.
"Yeah, but were the destroyed cartons of eggs, starch, MSG, and flour all accidents?"
"I was curious, ok? I've never cooked in my life." Brian stated.
"Doesn't surprise me." J.D. said.
"You know what? I-I'm just going to take this stuff to my room." Sam said, trying to get away. "Speaking of which, where is my room?"
"Upstairs, second door on the left. It's the master bedroom, with its own bathroom. My parents slept in there on our vacations here, but seeing as they're not here, and that there are no other bedrooms left in the house, you'll be sharing with Laura. We hope you don't mind." J.D. grinned. Sam turned crimson.
He slowly trudged up the stairs, and entered his room. He threw the luggage rather messily on the floor, though he laid Laura delicately on the bed.
Downstairs, J.D and Brian were in another argument over the issue of spilled sugar this time.
"We needed that in order to make soup!" J.D. stated.
"Soup doesn't need sugar. What this thing needs is salt." Brian retorted.
"Yeah, but you spilled the salt yesterday!"
"There's more here." Brain grabbed another jar of salt, which slipped out of his hands and landed on the ground, exploding salt crystals landing on both boys.
"Oops?" Brian said.
J.D. just simply sighed, but what he saw coming into the kitchen made him temporarily forget that he was standing in a pool of salt.
Sam and Laura walked into the kitchen, each with hair so messily arranged that it would put a homeless man to shame. Laura had mascara running down her cheek, and Sam had lipstick on his lips.
Brian quickly turned around and pulled out a trashcan, preparing to vomit into it. J.D. suggested that they go and clean up in the bathroom before dinner. After looking at their reflections from a mirror magnetically attached to the refrigerator, they hastily ran to a bathroom, no doubt to follow J.D.'s advice.
"You know, starting tomorrow, you'll be watching them, making sure that they don't come in like that again." Brian said, lifting his head out of the trashcan.
"Because if I see that again, I just might knock over that fruit bowl over there…and you'll be cleaning it up, like always."
This was my first DAT fic. I hope you liked it. Please R&R!! And I'm thinking about adding one more chapter, which is going to be about Sam and Laura in the bedroom when Brian and J.D. were downstairs in the kitchen. What do you think?