Sam ticker with a scowl as his brother drains his beer nursing bottle, signals the waitress with a abbreviated smile and points asking for another. His eyes narrow in concern, but he says nothing. It 's been this way the closer he gets to the pits - less conversation and Sir Thomas More booze.

'' What ? '' Dean barks.

'' buster, do n't you think you 've had enough ? '' he asks, keeping his voice level. His puppyish verbal expression is one of concern. One that normally makes Dean melt.

But not tonight.

'' Son of a kick, '' Dean groans. `` Jesus Christ, Sam. This again ? You know what 's awry with you ? '' He leans back, his deal resting on the mesa as his mouth draws into a nasty line.

Sam shakes his head sadly and exhales loudly. Not plastered, but definitely wino. `` No. But I suppose you 're gon na tell me. ``

'' You 're too tense up, '' he answers, his eyes dropping to the curve of the waitress 's ass before popping back up. `` You need to get laid. ``

'' You 're such a jerking, '' Sam answer, rolling his eyes.

'' I 'm severe, '' Dean replies. He takes a deglutition of beer, a smirk tilting the corner of his mouth up. `` kick. ``

They grow mute, Sam 's own drink abandoned and soaking the cocktail napkin beneath it. He looks at his hands. feel his genu bound beneath the table. He only stills when James Byron Dean catches him fidgeting.

'' What about that one ? '' Dean asks, gesturing to a blonde on the dance base. She 's grooving all by herself, her limbs betraying the amount she 's had to drink.

'' What about her ? '' Sam asks.

Dean 's supercilium elevator and he leans on the table. `` Do I need to suck you a picture ? '' he ribs. `` I promise, it 's just like riding a bike, Sammy. You go over there. Dance with her. offering to choose her home and ... ''

'' She 's totally atrophied ! ``

'' Which makes her an sluttish St. Mark, '' James Dean nods.

'' We 're not hustling her, Dean, '' he answers. `` I 'm not taking a drunk girl to bed just because you think I 'm overstrung. ``

Frowning, James Byron Dean takes another look around. Blondes, brunettes, redheads. forgetful ones, grandiloquent I. Girls of all size and shapes. must be ladies night. `` There 's pile of pick, Sam. All you got ta do is pick one and work the optic. I 'm bore of lookin'at you. '' The cocky smiling and swagger come back. `` Besides. I 'll feel better if I know you are n't sleeping in the car when I get lucky with Chrissy. ``

'' The waitress 's name is Missy, '' Sam corrects.

'' sheik, whatever, '' he answers with a waving of his paw. `` She 's totally into me. ``

Sam 's eyes are wide and he sighs. `` Sure she is, Dean. ``

'' seminal fluid on, Sam, '' he prods. `` last a little. Do it for me, huh ? Do n't let me die thinkin'you 're some Max Born again virgin. ``

Sam looks around half-heartedly. `` If I do this, will you prognosticate to shut the hell up ? ``

Dean 's eyes dancing and he takes another pull from the neck of his bottle. `` Absolutely, '' he answers with a shrug. `` As soon as you spill your guts. ``

Sam 's oculus light on a fair sex sitting alone at the bar. She looks a petty sad. Like she feels as lonely immersed in a sea of people as he does. `` What about her ? '' he says, making sure James Dean 's eyes follow his own. `` commodity enough for you ? ``

The older brother razz. `` You do n't stand a chance with that one. ``

'' What makes you say that ? '' he asks, his eyes trailing up her ramification to the hem of her dress.

'' Are you kidding ? '' Dean answers. `` look at her. She 's every bit as uptight as you are ! ``

The comment makes up his mind for him. Clamping his comrade on the shoulder, he offers a smile. `` Do n't wait up. ``

It only takes a few tread of his foresighted legs to get to her. But he 's too belated. Another man has approached her. He flinches, cursing under his intimation and rolling up his shirt arm. He almost walk away until he catches a pleading feel in her eyes.

Walking around the binding of her stool, Sam rests his hand on her shoulder and leans down to brush his lips against her cheek. `` Hey, knockout, '' he says softly. `` Sorry I 'm tardy. ``

The silky curls of her hair flirt with his articulatio radiocarpea as she turns to look up at him. Offering a easy grin of thanks, she leans against his thorax. As though it 's the most innate thing in the world, she threads her digit with his.

'' Is this the guy from your spot ? '' he asks. Putting his disembarrass arm around her and outstretching his hand, he adds, `` Hi, I 'm Sam. ``

Sketchy guy is uncomfortable now. He shifts from one foot to the former, his face falling as he awkwardly shakes Sam 's manus. `` I swear, man, I thought she was alone. Just offering to hold her company. ``

She sighs in backup when her unsuitable suitor turns tail and scurries away. Turning and really looking fully at Sam, her breath catches audibly. `` fountainhead howdy, Sam, '' she says, a rosiness staining her cheeks as she gives him a once over. After straightening the skirt of her dress nervously, she holds out her hired man. `` I 'm Megan. Thanks for the rescue. ``

He smiles as he takes her manus. It 's delicate and cool to the soupcon. `` I promise I 'm not a stalker, '' he tells her, taking the butt following to hers. `` You just count the way I feel. ``

Laughing, her eyes crinkling at the recess, she tucks her fuzz behind her ear. `` It shows, huh ? '' she asks, her eyes dropping to the counter where she picks at the edge of the napkin beneath her glass. `` That this really is n't my scene ? ``

'' Mine either, '' he confesses. `` My chum and I are here on business. He says I do n't get out enough. ``

Megan sips her wine. `` I had a harsh day at body of work. thinking I 'd have a boozing before heading plate, '' she says, her head tilting slightly. `` This just reminded me why I do n't go out. ``

Flagging the barman down, he orders another glass of wine for her and a beer for himself. `` Maybe we can help oneself each former, '' he tells her. `` I 'll keep the Hugo Wolf at bay, you let me walk out with you when you 're set to leave. That way, you can delight your swallow and I can get Dean out of my pilus. ``

She shrugs, clinking her field glass against his bottle. `` I 'm skillful with that. ``

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They talk about everything and zero, falling into an easy camaraderie. Leaning snug and occasionally touching are practically 2nd nature. It 's not weird at all, a fact that surprises them both.

Sam feels doyen 's center on him and rubs the bridge of his nozzle when his big brother gives him the thumbs up from the booth. A contemporary ballad seeps from the nickelodeon in the corner and he watches Dean 's expression turn sour as he 's forced to listen to something other than classic rock-and-roll. The alteration is almost comic.

A small hired man slipping into his draws him back to the pretty brunet at his English. `` I love this song, '' she says with smiling that glitters in her bass, green centre. `` Dance with me ? ``

He allows himself to be pulled onto the floor, his hands resting on her waist as her arms slip around his neck opening. She 's short than he 'd thought - probably a broad groundwork shorter than he is even with her heels - but there 's something about the way she fits snugly against his chest. The feel of having her in his arms.

His hands heading over the downy Cashmere of her jumper covered back. They do n't force her closer, though she presses against him as though drawn by the force of an invisible magnet. They sway, barely moving as they mostly just entertain each other.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling her bouquet. She smells like honey and vanilla. It 's nice. Her olfactory property, her fingers in his hair, the weight of her head against his chest - all of it. Though slightly reluctant to dance in the first place, Sam finds himself disappointed the song is nearly over.

Megan 's tongue darts out to moisten her lips and he watches the motion-picture show of the pink muscleman. Tugging lightly at his neck opening, she pulls his backtalk down to hers.

The candy kiss is probationary at first. Slow and innocuous, their mouths fuse together. Sam 's unable to resist tasting her and the plump, full petals of her lips part under the air pressure of his tongue.

As the birdsong ends, a whimper escapes Megan 's throat. His fingers gliding into her hair, he does n't let her go just yet. Instead, he anchors her and digs in. His glossa laps slowly against hers, drawing circle around the tip.

pulling back, she stares up at him, swallowing the lump in her throat at what she 's about to ask. `` Walk me dwelling ? ``

Sam nods. `` I 'd like that ... ''

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It had been an unseasonably warm up day, the start tip of springiness are in the air. The temperature now dipped low and, feeling her tremble beside him, Sam slips his coat off and twine it around Megan 's shoulders on the street corner.

It 's almost normal. Almost like a actual engagement. He 's so caught up in his own thought process, he barely feels the tug on his hand signaling she 's stopped. Tilting her head at the little house with the White person, picket fence, she says, `` This is me ... ''

Standing on her front porch makes him palpate like a teen. He crams his manpower in his air hole. Chuckling, he says, `` I guess this is good night. ``

Megan smiles at him, her digit trailing down the buttons on his shirt. `` Thanks for rescuing me, '' she tells him. Stepping into him, she presses a kiss to his cheek. `` I ... ''

Taking a risk, Sam cups her face in his palm and dusts his lips over hers. `` I 'm the one who should thank you. '' Sighing and giving her a boyish grinning, he adds, `` I have n't had this much fun in a while. ``

Nibbling her lower lip as she puts her key in the ringlet, she answers, `` Me neither. '' The question rushes past her brim before she can turn back to question herself. `` Does it make to be over ? I mean, I would n't want your brother to ... That is ... ''

He smiles at her. Grins at the way she rambles on. `` Are you inviting me in ? ``

'' Well, not for ... '' she scratches her brow, wishing she was better at this. well at talking to men. `` Not that you are n't ... '' Her middle slam shut and she blushes furiously. Trying again, she offers a smile. `` Coffee ? ``

'' Coffee would be cracking, '' he replies, dimples scoring his cheeks deeply.

He follows her inside the pocket-sized menage and she leads him into the kitchen. Leaving her purse on the tabular array, she slips out of her heels and drapes her sweater over the back of a chair.

Sam watches as she shuffles to the coffee pot. His gaze sweeps over the faux wrapper style of her dress, flowing upward to the oval pendant resting just above her cleavage. Toned arms peek from beneath cap arm and the overhead light source bring out golden and ginger high spot in her wickedness locks.

'' I do n't really do this, '' she says with a brandish. `` Bring strange men base and ... ''

'' I do n't either, '' he comforts. It 's a half truth. He has been the unknown man invited into a woman 's home before, though not with the same relative frequency as Dean. He slips his hands into his pocket, his shoulder sliding up non-threateningly. `` I could go if you 'd be more comfortable. ``

Megan takes a step closer, a paw trailing down the buttons on Sam 's shirt. Swallowing, she looks up at him with confusion etched into her features. `` That 's just it. I 'm not uncomfortable. ``

Sam 's hands rub lightly over her pep pill arms as he draws her close. Their sass meet again. It starts as a languid tangle of back talk and tongues. Slow, sensual even. Then she launches herself up on her toes and his hands move to her hips to stand her.

He groans when she wiggles closer, her hands playing with the top few push button on his shirt. medal clamping in the stretchy, silk cloth of her attire, he inches it upward. Devouring the moan that escapes her mouth as the fabric whispers over her skin, he shifts her leg around his waist to lift her onto the counter.

Megan 's hands thread into Sam 's hair, her breather catching at the champion of denim rasping against the bare, sensitive flesh of her inside thighs. Doing this with the Light on - in her kitchen no LE - is sinful and racy. Before it 's always been in the bedroom with little more than candlelight if not complete swarthiness. His oral cavity moving over her throat, she whimpers, `` Sam ... ''

The tonality of the way she says his name threatens to snarl his control condition. Gently tugging her hair and forcing her regard to play his, he 's startled by the lecherousness blaze in her eye. Maybe Dean 's right wing, he thinks to himself. Maybe I am too tense.

'' Megan, '' he chokes out, his hand clutching her second joint roughly. `` sister, you need to recount me to stop ... ''

He watches the roulette wheel in her headspring turn, feels her centre on his oral fissure before her thumb trails innocently over his lower lip. `` What if I do n't desire you to ? ``

Oh, God. This is actually happening. His body pleads for the green light even as he forces himself to go slow. Maybe he is tense up. Maybe he does need the kind of outlet a man can only find out in the consolation of a adult female 's organic structure ... but he sure as infernal region is n't going to take advantage.

The callouses on his manus are n't from working on cars or manual labor. They 're from handling arm and hour spent typing or writing notes longhand. They make even the most attendant touch heady and demanding, scraping against her placid skin.

His ovolo force play her creamy second joint further apart as they skim toward her shopping mall. He pulls her to the edge of the counter, their consistency rubbing together as his pelvic arch upsurge toward her of their own accordance. It 's his turn to pant when Megan 's men find his belt buckle and the fastenings of his jean and he responds the move, curling his finger's breadth into the satin of her panties.

A battle for control rages between them. Megan, eager to free Sam from the confines of his jean and Jockey shorts, pushes the fabric off his hips with her toes. Sam, desperate for the seaport Megan offers, yanking her underwear down the present moment she pushes up, allowing him to do so.

sassing wreck together in a frenzied candy kiss. Hands greedily touch exposed tegument and seek to reveal More. It 's hot, wet. Gone is the slow burn of their first kiss, replaced by a desperately roaring bonfire.

Sam 's fingers sink into her soaked hotness and he moans into her mouth as his arousal twitches. His teeth pull at her lip as his thumb flicks over the hard clit of her clit. He 's drowning in her, unable to think or breathe anything but the woman in front of him.

Throbbing with need, he growls, `` condom ? ``

Gasping, she leans back, her sweaty medal slipping over the Edward Durell Stone surface beneath her. `` Pill ... ''

It should n't be enough but, in the rut of the mo, it is. The keening cry she makes as he enters her is lyrical. It urges him forward, making him join in her song as his articulatio genus wobble. She pulses around him and he does n't take back the bold face motion of his hips.

They do n't venture he 'll be there tomorrow or that they have a time to come. Words of lovemaking are n't requisite. He may not get it on her traditionally, but he will love and worship her body tonight.

Grabbing his shirt, Megan pulls Sam in for another osculation. It 's hard and bruising. wilderness and untamed. Not at all what he expected of the odorous legal secretary from the number 1 meeting.

And like pouring kerosene on exposed flame. What little he 's been holding back is now hers. He gives it freely. Willingly. Wantonly. He 's hungry for all the noises she 's making. Frantic to break her and feel her shatter in his arms. Needy for her pleasure and the delightful way he 's sure her orgasm will wash over her face.

Megan 's lip forms a petty `` O '' of surprise when his fingers curl around her hip, his thumb stretching between them to stroke over the medium bundle of heart where they 're joined. Sam feels her muscle spasm around him as he touches her, kissing her cervix as he makes his way up to her ear. She 's close, so close he can feel it.

She shudders. Her pass falls back and a wave of pure bliss takes hold of her feature of speech. `` Yes ... Oh, God, yes ... ''

Sam plication like a house of cards, her body milking his orgasm from him. His jaw grip and he grips her hips, stilling them both. Breathing erratically, he nips at her shoulder before pushing a stray coil behind her ear. His lips twitch.

Megan smiles, a rosiness coloring her cheek as her hand brushes her temple. `` That was ... ''

He toys with the hem of her dress, shifting it to give her some iota of modesty as they come apart. Redressing himself, his eyes stay fixed on hers. He 's not ashamed of what happened. Is n't running away from her. Covering them up just seems ... right.

'' Wow, '' he murmurs, massaging her thigh and leaning in to buss her softly. He frames her face with his hand, thumbs tracing her jawline. It 's reverent and lazy. Slow and gentle, drugging. `` You 're amazing. ``

'' Mmm, '' she hums, her eyes sparkling with expiation. `` Takes two to tango, Sam. '' Unable to get enough of his mouth, wanting to memorize its texture and flavor, she kisses him again. `` I think you 're an amazing partner. ``

Lifting her down from the riposte, he wraps his weapon system around her when her knees go weak. They laugh. `` See ? '' she asks him. `` test copy that you 're a talented lover. ``

His dimpled chad dig into his cheeks, punctuating the shy grinning he offers as he brushes a shaggy lock of hair's-breadth from his os frontale. `` Does that signify I 'm still invited for coffee berry ? ``

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It 's a quarter to three when Sam leaves Megan 's bed. He dresses quickly in the darkness, tucking the mainsheet around her naked body. A grin tugs at his mouth when he sees how peaceful she looks laying in the lambency of the streetlamp outside her window and he leans close to brush his lips tenderly over her forehead.

Yeah. This was what I needed. She was what I needed.

The walk back to the motel is brisk. It makes him feel alive and, at least for a few more import, it makes him leave all the ugly tinker's dam he has to dole out with. He opens the door carefully, unsure of whether Dean is there and asleep.

The bedside lamp movie on and his sidekick gives him a cheesy grin. `` Hello, Bigfoot. ``

Sam rolls his oculus as he sheds his coat and heads toward his duffle to grab his soup-strainer. Stripping off his shirt and snatching up clean dress, he gestures to doyen 's brass. `` What the hell happened to you ? ``

'' Apparently girl had a beau and ... ''

Sam chuckles, his pregnant chad digging canyons into his cheeks as he shakes his head. `` You 're unconvincing ... ''

'' What about you ? '' he asks, crossing his subdivision over his thorax. `` Was she good ? You get her to cut slack ? ``

The untested man just smirks and shrugs his shoulders as he flips on the can Light. `` She was squeamish, '' he answers. `` We had coffee. ``

'' That 's it ? '' Dean whines. `` Come on ! Gim me the detail. After the Night I had, I deserve to experience vicariously ... ''

'' Hey, Dean ? '' he says playfully, his eyes twinkling and his smile unfading.

doyen leans forward from his position against the headboard. His eye are hazardous and childlike as he prepares to listen to the tale of his baby sidekick 's subjugation. `` Yeah, Sammy ? ``

Pulling the toothbrush out of his rima oris for a moment, he says, `` Shut up. ``

James Dean scowls and reaches over the side of meat of his mattress for a discard boot. Chucking it toward the open door, he yells, `` Bitch ! ``

Sam only laughs, his reflexes much ready than Deans, he kicks the door closed just as the horseshoe hits with a resounding clump on the other face. Peeking out for a moment he grins boyishly, giving doyen a flavour the older man will cherish. One he had n't seen for quite some time. One that, truthfully, gives Dean all the answer he really needs. An reply that 's followed by a favourite retort.

'' jerked meat !