Benny and Joon: Blue
Joon never really liked having anyone watch her paint, but lately, she just didn't have the heart to shoo Sam away. He was still stuck in their apartment, his foot still in a cast, because of a crazy act of love for her. She adored him for it, but she couldn't help but feel a little guilty too.
Poor Sam sat on the floor in front of the fireplace bored out of his mind and so frustrated. He stared into the fire lost in thought. Six more weeks in a cast – it was torture! Although he did not for a moment regret the climb to Joon's window and the subsequent fall that lead to his broken ankle (okay, maybe he regretted falling a bit), he couldn't stand not being able to do things. He couldn't clean the way he liked, he couldn't perform in the park - or anywhere else for that matter - and he couldn't even make the walk to the diner with Joon.
"Excuse me, Hamlet," Joon looked away from her painting to the dejected man on the floor a few feet away. "Isn't there a Buster Keaton movie marathon on television in a little while?"
"Yeah," Sam replied simply, his tone flat. His gaze had now shifted to the hated cast. He stared at it as if he hoped to melt it away with his eyes.
"I've had about enough of this, Sam," Joon teased. "I'm going to come over there in a minute and paint a smile on you."
When Sam did not respond, Joon decided that maybe she wasn't joking. Quickly, she crossed the room, and before Sam could react, he had a large blue splotch on his cheek.
"Hey!" Sam yelped, utterly surprised out of his sullen state.
Joon stood over him, poised with the paintbrush, ready to strike again. "You want to be blue, Sam? Smile now, or I'll make you blue - really."
Sam stared up at her in open-mouthed shock, the woman he loved had just assaulted him with paint and was threatening to do it again. She wouldn't. Who was he kidding? Of course, she would.
"Alright then," she said, giving him no fair chance to respond as she knelt and pinned his broken foot to the floor. She quickly stroked the brush across his toes that stuck out helplessly from the cast.
"Okay! Okay!" Sam was truly laughing and honestly trying to defend himself as he grasped Joon around the waist and pulled her away from his injured foot.
Joon tumbled over next to him. There was blue paint in her blonde hair now. She eyed him from her new position on the floor, still pointing the brush at him.
Threat of paint or no, Sam couldn't help but smile, he loved her so much. Feeling a rush of desire, Sam leaned down to kiss her.
Before he could reach her though, Joon jumped up. "I've got a better idea," she said.
A better idea than kissing? Sam wondered. There couldn't be many, and as Joon returned with her palette of paints he doubted that she had come up with one of them.
"No more paint, Joon, please," Sam pleaded. "Look, I'm happy now. I promise." Sam flashed a ridiculous grin that elicited giggles from Joon.
"Just trust me," she said, as she sat down on the floor and took his broken foot in her lap.
For a moment, Sam worried over the fate of his toes, but concern faded as Joon carefully rolled the leg of his trousers out of the way and began to paint an intricate design on the cast.
Sam watched, transfixed as his hated cast became a canvas that was his and his alone.
His dark eyes never left Joon's hands as they made that canvas bloom with an expression of love that only she could provide. Suddenly, six weeks seemed too short a time to testify to such an act of love.