Sam watches with a frown as his brother drains his beer bottleful, signals the waitress with a brief smile and breaker point asking for another. His eyes narrow in business concern, but he says goose egg. It 's been this way the closer he gets to blaze - to a lesser extent conversation and more than booze.

'' What ? '' James Dean barks.

'' Dude, do n't you think you 've had enough ? '' he asks, keeping his representative degree. His puppyish expression is one of concern. One that normally makes James Dean melt.

But not tonight.

'' Son of a bitch, '' Dean groans. `` Redeemer, Sam. This again ? You know what 's improper with you ? '' He leans back, his hands resting on the table as his mouth draws into a blind drunk line.

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

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

'' You 're such a jerked meat, '' Sam resolution, rolling his eyes.

'' I 'm serious, '' James Byron Dean replies. He takes a swallow of beer, a smirk tilting the nook of his sassing up. `` Bitch. ``

They grow dumb, Sam 's own drink abandoned and soaking the cocktail napkin beneath it. He looks at his script. Feels his knees resile beneath the table. He only stills when dean catches him fidgeting.

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

'' What about her ? '' Sam asks.

Dean 's eyebrows ski lift and he leans on the board. `` Do I need to absorb you a picture ? '' he ribs. `` I promise, it 's just like riding a cycle, Sammy. You go over there. Dance with her. Offer to take her dwelling house and ... ''

'' She 's totally languish ! ``

'' Which makes her an slow mark, '' Dean nods.

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

Frowning, Dean takes another flavor around. Blondes, brunettes, redhead. forgetful ones, tall I. little girl of all sizes and chassis. moldiness be peeress Night. `` There 's raft of options, Sam. All you got ta do is pick one and work the eye. I 'm tired of lookin'at you. '' The cocky grin and swagger come back. `` Besides. I 'll feel better if I know you are n't sleeping in the car when I get favourable with Chrissy. ``

'' The waitress 's gens is missy, '' Sam corrects.

'' Dude, whatever, '' he answers with a wave of his helping hand. `` She 's totally into me. ``

Sam 's center are encompassing and he sighs. `` for certain she is, Dean. ``

'' seminal fluid on, Sam, '' he prods. `` live a small. Do it for me, huh ? Do n't let me die thinkin'you 're some born again Virgin. ``

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

Dean 's center terpsichore 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 optic light on a char sitting alone at the bar. She looks a fiddling sad. Like she feels as lonely immersed in a sea of hoi polloi as he does. `` What about her ? '' he says, making sure Dean 's eyes follow his own. `` ripe enough for you ? ``

The older brother snorts. `` You do n't stomach a chance with that one. ``

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

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

The comment makes up his mind for him. Clamping his Brother on the shoulder, he offers a smiling. `` Do n't waitress up. ``

It only takes a few strides of his foresighted ramification to get to her. But he 's too late. Another man has approached her. He flinches, cursing under his intimation and rolling up his shirt sleeves. He almost walk away until he catches a beseeching flavor in her eyes.

Walking around the back of her stool, Sam rests his hired hand on her shoulder and leans down to brush his back talk against her cheek. `` Hey, sweetheart, '' he says softly. `` Sorry I 'm lately. ``

The silklike Robert Floyd Curl Jr. of her fuzz flirt with his wrist as she turns to look up at him. Offering a gentle grin of thanks, she leans against his chest of drawers. As though it 's the most natural thing in the cosmos, she threads her fingers with his.

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

Sketchy guy is uncomfortable now. He shifts from one animal foot to the other, his facial expression falling as he awkwardly shakes Sam 's script. `` I swear, man, I thought she was alone. simply offering to stay fresh her fellowship. ``

She sighs in succour when her unwanted suer turns hindquarters and scurries away. Turning and really looking fully at Sam, her breath stop audibly. `` well hello, Sam, '' she says, a blush staining her cheeks as she gives him a once over. After straightening the annulus of her dress nervously, she holds out her hand. `` I 'm Megan. Thanks for the rescue. ``

He smiles as he takes her hand. It 's soft and poise to the feeling. `` I promise I 'm not a stalker, '' he tells her, taking the bum adjacent to hers. `` You just look the way I feel. ``

Laughing, her eyes crinkling at the quoin, 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 looking glass. `` That this really is n't my scene ? ``

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

Megan sips her wine. `` I had a rough day at work. Thought I 'd have a drink before heading dwelling house, '' she says, her head tilting slightly. `` This just reminded me why I do n't go out. ``

Flagging the barkeep down, he social club another shabu of wine for her and a beer for himself. `` Maybe we can help each former, '' he tells her. `` I 'll keep the Friedrich August Wolf at bay, you let me walk out with you when you 're ready to impart. That way, you can enjoy your drinkable and I can get Dean out of my hair. ``

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

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

They talk about everything and nothing, falling into an easy comradeship. Leaning close and occasionally touching are practically arcsecond nature. It 's not eldritch at all, a fact that surprises them both.

Sam feels James Dean 's eyes on him and rubs the bridgework of his nose when his big brother gives him the thumbs up from the cubicle. A modern-day ballad seeps from the nickelodeon in the corner and he watches Dean 's construction turn sour as he 's forced to hear to something other than Greco-Roman rock. The change is almost comic.

A small script slipping into his draws him back to the pretty brunette at his face. `` I love this song, '' she says with smile that glisten in her mystifying, green eyes. `` Dance with me ? ``

He allows himself to be pulled onto the floor, his hands resting on her waistline as her weapons system pillowcase around his cervix. She 's brusque than he 'd thought - probably a full understructure 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 helping hand drift over the downy cashmere of her sweater covered back. They do n't force her closer, though she presses against him as though drawn by the military group of an invisible magnet. They sway, barely moving as they mostly just hold each other.

He takes a cryptical breath, inhaling her sweetness. She smells like honey and vanilla. It 's courteous. Her smell, her fingerbreadth in his whisker, the weight unit of her head against his dresser - all of it. Though slightly reluctant to dance in the initiatory place, Sam finds himself disappointed the song is nearly over.

Megan 's tongue darts out to drizzle her lips and he watches the flick of the pinko muscle. Tugging lightly at his neck, she pulls his sass down to hers.

The buss is tentative at first. Slow and devoid, their mouths fuse together. Sam 's unable to resist tasting her and the plump, wide petal of her brim part under the pressure of his tongue.

As the song ends, a whine escapes Megan 's throat. His fingers gliding into her hair, he does n't let her go just yet. Instead, he anchors her and digging in. His natural language laps slowly against hers, drawing R-2 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 place ? ``

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

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

It had been an unseasonably quick day, the initiatory hints of saltation are in the air. The temperature now dipped low and, feeling her shiver beside him, Sam slips his coat off and wind it around Megan 's shoulders on the street corner.

It 's almost normal. Almost like a real appointment. He 's so caught up in his own idea, he barely feels the tug on his hired hand signaling she 's stopped. Tilting her oral sex at the little house with the blank, picket fence, she says, `` This is me ... ''

Standing on her front porch makes him palpate like a adolescent. He crams his hands in his pockets. Chuckling, he says, `` I guess this is good dark. ``

Megan smiles at him, her finger's breadth trailing down the push button on his shirt. `` Thanks for rescuing me, '' she tells him. Stepping into him, she presses a osculation to his cheek. `` I ... ''

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

Nibbling her lower lip as she puts her key in the ignition lock, she answers, `` Me neither. '' The interrogative rushes past her mouth before she can break off to question herself. `` Does it induce to be over ? I mean, I would n't require your pal to ... That is ... ''

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

'' wellspring, not for ... '' she scratches her forehead, wishing she was better at this. estimable at talking to men. `` Not that you are n't ... '' Her eyes slam shut and she blushes furiously. Trying again, she offers a smile. `` java ? ``

'' Coffee would be great, '' he replies, dimples scoring his cheek deeply.

He follows her inside the modest home and she leads him into the kitchen. Leaving her handbag on the table, she slips out of her cad and drapes her perspirer over the rachis of a chair.

Sam scout as she shuffles to the coffee pot. His gaze chimneysweep over the fake wrap style of her apparel, flowing upward to the oval pendent resting just above her cleavage. Toned arms peek from beneath cap sleeves and the viewgraph brightness bring out golden and ginger highlights in her dark locks.

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

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

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

Sam 's hands rub lightly over her upper arms as he draws her ending. Their lips meet again. It starts as a languid tangle of lip and tongues. Slow, fleshly even. Then she launches herself up on her toes and his custody move to her hips to brook her.

He groans when she wiggles closer, her men playing with the top few release on his shirt. medallion clamping in the stretchy, silk cloth of her clothes, he inches it upward. Devouring the groan that escapes her oral fissure as the fabric whisper over her peel, he shifts her leg around his shank to lift her onto the counter.

Megan 's hand thread into Sam 's whisker, her breathing time catching at the sense of blue jean rasping against the bare, spiritualist build of her inner thigh. Doing this with the lights on - in her kitchen no to a lesser extent - is iniquitous and spicy. Before it 's always been in the bedroom with little more than candlelight if not complete dark. His rima oris moving over her throat, she whimpers, `` Sam ... ''

The key of the way she says his name threatens to snap his ascendancy. Gently tugging her hair and forcing her gaze to see his, he 's startled by the lustfulness blazing in her centre. Maybe Dean 's right, he thinks to himself. Maybe I am too tense.

'' Megan, '' he chokes out, his manus clutching her second joint roughly. `` Baby, you need to severalize me to give up ... ''

He watches the rack in her head good turn, feels her eyes on his mouth before her thumb trails innocently over his lower lip. `` What if I do n't want you to ? ``

Oh, God. This is actually happening. His dead body pleads for the super acid luminance even as he forces himself to go slow. Maybe he is tense up. Maybe he does need the variety of release a man can only feel in the comfort of a woman 's body ... but he sure as hell is n't going to take advantage.

The callouses on his workforce are n't from working on railcar or manual trade union movement. They 're from handling weapons and hours spent typing or writing notes longhand. They make even the most cutter touch heady and demanding, scraping against her tranquil skin.

His ovolo force play her creamy thighs further apart as they skim toward her centerfield. He pulls her to the edge of the counter, their consistence rubbing together as his hips surge toward her of their own accord. It 's his turn to gasp when Megan 's hands find his knock buckle and the fastenings of his jeans 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 disengage Sam from the confines of his jeans and legal brief, pushes the fabric off his rosehip with her toes. Sam, desperate for the oasis Megan offers, yanking her underwear down the consequence she pushes up, allowing him to do so.

backtalk crash together in a frenetic kiss. Hands greedily touch exposed peel and seek to bring out to a greater extent. It 's hot, wet. Gone is the slow burn of their first of all kiss, replaced by a desperately roaring bonfire.

Sam 's fingers sink into her soaked heating system and he moans into her rima oris as his arousal twitches. His teeth twist at her lip as his thumb flicks over the laborious button of her clit. He 's drowning in her, unable to consider or breathe anything but the woman in front end of him.

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

Gasping, she leans back, her sweaty palms slipping over the Oliver Stone surface beneath her. `` anovulant ... ''

It should n't be enough but, in the heat of the import, 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 tilt. She pulses around him and he does n't hold back the bold face motion of his hips.

They do n't venture he 'll be there tomorrow or that they have a future tense. Word of love are n't requisite. He may not love her traditionally, but he will sleep together and idolize her body tonight.

Grabbing his shirt, Megan pulls Sam in for another kiss. It 's hard and bruising. wilderness and untamed. Not at all what he expected of the sweet-scented effectual secretaire from the first meeting.

And like pouring kerosine on open flaming. What little he 's been holding back is now hers. He gives it freely. Willingly. Wantonly. He 's hungry for all the haphazardness she 's making. mad to break her and feel her shatter in his blazonry. Needy for her pleasure and the delightful way he 's sure her orgasm will wash out over her face.

Megan 's lip forms a little `` O '' of surprise when his finger curl around her hip, his thumb stretching between them to stroke over the sensitive bundle of nerves where they 're joined. Sam feels her cramp around him as he touches her, kissing her neck opening as he makes his way up to her ear. She 's shut down, so close he can feel it.

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

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

Megan smiles, a rosiness coloring her brass 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 middle 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 thighs and leaning in to kiss her softly. He frames her face with his script, quarter round tracing her jawline. It 's worshipful and slothful. Slow and soft, drugging. `` You 're amazing. ``

'' Mmm, '' she hums, her center sparkling with satisfaction. `` payoff two to tango, Sam. '' ineffectual to get enough of his mouth, wanting to memorize its texture and flavor, she kisses him again. `` I think you 're an mystify partner. ``

Lifting her down from the comeback, he wraps his arms around her when her knees go weak. They laugh. `` See ? '' she asks him. `` Proof that you 're a gifted buff. ``

His dimples dig into his impertinence, punctuating the shy smiling he offers as he brushes a shaggy ringlet of hair from his forehead. `` Does that think I 'm still invited for burnt umber ? ``

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

It 's a quarter to three when Sam leaves Megan 's bed. He dresses quickly in the darkness, tucking the sail around her naked torso. A grin tugs at his sassing when he sees how peaceful she looks laying in the glowing of the streetlamp outside her window and he leans penny-pinching to brush his lips tenderly over her forehead.

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

The pass back to the motel is bracing. It makes him experience alive and, at least for a few to a greater extent moments, it makes him forget all the ugly dirt he has to deal with. He opens the door carefully, unsure of whether dean is there and asleep.

The bedside lamp flicks on and his brother gives him a cheesy grin. `` Hello, Sasquatch. ``

Sam rolls his eyes as he sheds his coat and headland toward his duffle to grab his toothbrush. Stripping off his shirt and snatching up clean and jerk clothes, he gestures to Dean 's face. `` What the hell happened to you ? ``

'' Apparently missy had a boyfriend and ... ''

Sam chuckles, his dimples digging canon into his cheeks as he shakes his head. `` You 're unbelievable ... ''

'' What about you ? '' he asks, crossing his arms over his dresser. `` Was she good ? You get her to cut release ? ``

The younger man just smirks and shrugs his shoulder as he flips on the john light. `` She was nice, '' he answers. `` We had burnt umber. ``

'' That 's it ? '' James Byron Dean whimper. `` ejaculate on ! Gim me the details. After the night I had, I deserve to live vicariously ... ''

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

Dean leans forward from his position against the headboard. His oculus are raging and childlike as he prepares to listen to the tale of his baby brother 's conquest. `` Yeah, Sammy ? ``

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

dean scowl and reaches over the slope of his mattress for a discarded boot. Chucking it toward the open door, he yells, `` bitch ! ``

Sam only laughs, his reflexes much quicker than dean, he kicks the room access closed just as the shoe hits with a resounding clunk on the other side. Peeking out for a moment he grins boyishly, giving Dean a facial expression the onetime man will cherish. One he had n't seen for quite some time. One that, truthfully, gives James Dean all the answer he really needs. An answer that 's followed by a preferent retort.

'' Jerk !