Sam couldn't help but quip, "Morning, Dad. Ready to burn the house down with your cooking skills?"
John chuckled and swatted her playfully with a dish towel. "You're one to talk, Sam. I seem to remember a certain incident involving a batch of cookies and a smoke alarm."
Sam stuck her tongue out at him. "Hey, I was twelve. Give me a break."
John moved to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. "Well, you've certainly come a long way since then. You're a regular domestic goddess these days."
Sam served up the bacon and eggs, and the two sat down to eat. John commented on how grown-up Sam looked these days, and she rolled her eyes. "I'm still the same brat you've always known, John," she said.
John raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Then why don't you call me 'Dad' anymore?"
Sam grinned. "Because it's weird. You're not my real dad, after all."
John feigned hurt. "Ouch. You wound me, Sam. But I'll have you know, I've been more of a father to you than your deadbeat dad ever was."
Sam couldn't deny it. John stepped into her life when she was just a teenager, and he'd been a constant source of support and guidance ever since. She reached over and ruffled his hair. "Alright, alright. You're the best 'fake' dad a girl could ask for."
The two continued to banter back and forth as they finished their breakfast. Sam couldn't help but feel a warmth in her chest as she looked at John - a mixture of love, respect, and something deeper.
She stood up and started to clear the dishes. "I'm gonna go for a run," she announced. "Wanna join me?"
John shook his head. "Nah, I think I'll stay here and catch up on some work. But you have fun."
Sam headed out for her run, but as she jogged down the street, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between her and John. She returned home a few hours later, flushed and sweaty. John was still in the kitchen, now dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He looked up as she entered.
"Hey there, champ," he said, smiling. Sam felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him.
She walked over to the sink and started to wash her hands. "Hey," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
John came up behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. Sam tensed, unsure of what was happening.
John leaned in, his breath hot on her neck. "Happy birthday, Sam," he murmured. And then, he kissed her.
Sam froze for a moment, unsure of how to react. But then, she melted into the kiss, her arms snaking around John's neck as she pressed herself against him.
The kiss deepened, and Sam felt a spark of desire ignite within her. She'd never felt this way about John before - but then again, she'd never seen him like this before.
Finally, they broke apart, both of them breathing heavily.
"Sam," John said, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -"
Sam pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't apologize," she said. "I wanted that just as much as you did."
John's eyes widened in surprise, but then he grinned. "Well, in that case -"
He scooped Sam up in his arms and carried her out of the kitchen, leaving the dishes forgotten in the sink.
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