Sam watches with a frown as his comrade drains his beer bottle, signals the waitress with a legal brief smiling and points asking for another. His centre narrow in concern, but he says zip. It 's been this way the closer he gets to Hell - less conversation and to a greater extent booze.

'' What ? '' Dean barks.

'' Dude, do n't you remember you 've had enough ? '' he asks, keeping his voice stratum. His puppyish expression is one of concern. One that normally makes dean melt.

But not tonight.

'' Son of a bitch, '' dean moan. `` Jesus Christ, Sam. This again ? You know what 's faulty with you ? '' He leans back, his deal resting on the board as his mouth draws into a taut line.

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

'' You 're too strain, '' 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 tug, '' Sam answers, rolling his eyes.

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

They grow silent, Sam 's own drink abandoned and soaking the cocktail napkin beneath it. He looks at his hands. feeling his knees bounce beneath the table. He only stills when Dean catches him fidgeting.

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

'' What about her ? '' Sam asks.

Dean 's eyebrow elevation and he leans on the board. `` Do I need to draw you a picture ? '' he ribs. `` I promise, it 's just like riding a bicycle, Sammy. You go over there. terpsichore with her. whirl to get hold of her house and ... ''

'' She 's totally wasted ! ``

'' Which makes her an well-off mark, '' dean nods.

'' We 're not hustling her, James Dean, '' he answers. `` I 'm not taking a drunk young woman to bed just because you think I 'm uptight. ``

Frowning, Dean takes another flavor around. blond, brunettes, redheads. Short ace, tall ones. female child of all size of it and contour. Must be ladies night. `` There 's plenty of alternative, Sam. All you got ta do is blame one and run the eyes. 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 golden with Chrissy. ``

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

'' gallant, whatever, '' he answers with a wafture of his deal. `` She 's totally into me. ``

Sam 's eyes are all-embracing and he sighs. `` Sure she is, Dean. ``

'' ejaculate on, Sam, '' he prods. `` populate a slight. Do it for me, huh ? Do n't let me die thinkin'you 're some Max Born again Virgo the Virgin. ``

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

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

Sam 's centre light on a fair sex sitting alone at the bar. She looks a little sad. Like she feels as lonely immersed in a sea of hoi polloi as he does. `` What about her ? '' he says, making sure enough dean 's optic postdate his own. `` beneficial enough for you ? ``

The older brother snicker. `` You do n't stand 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 ? '' Dean resolution. `` Look at her. She 's every bit as uptight as you are ! ``

The commentary makes up his nous for him. Clamping his comrade on the shoulder joint, he offers a grin. `` Do n't wait up. ``

It only takes a few tread of his recollective legs to get to her. But he 's too late. Another man has approached her. He flinches, cursing under his breath and rolling up his shirt sleeve. He almost walk away until he catches a plead look in her eyes.

Walking around the cover of her stool, Sam rests his hand on her articulatio humeri and leans down to sweep his lip against her impudence. `` Hey, knockout, '' he says softly. `` Sorry I 'm late. ``

The silken gyre of her whisker coquetry with his wrist as she turns to look up at him. Offering a blue smile of thanks, she leans against his thorax. As though it 's the most natural thing in the world, 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 foot to the other, his case falling as he awkwardly shakes Sam 's hand. `` I swear, man, I thought she was alone. precisely offering to keep her ship's company. ``

She sighs in relief when her undesirable suitor turns empennage and scurries away. Turning and really looking fully at Sam, her breather catches audibly. `` Well hello, Sam, '' she says, a blush staining her nerve as she gives him a once over. After straightening the skirt of her attire nervously, she holds out her manus. `` I 'm Megan. Thanks for the rescue. ``

He smiles as he takes her script. It 's delicate and assuredness to the ghost. `` I promise I 'm not a stalker, '' he tells her, taking the seat succeeding to hers. `` You just see the way I feel. ``

Laughing, her eyes crinkling at the niche, she tucks her hair 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 meth. `` That this really is n't my scene ? ``

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

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

Flagging the bartender down, he social club another looking glass of wine for her and a beer for himself. `` Maybe we can avail each other, '' he tells her. `` I 'll hold open the wildcat at bay, you let me walk out with you when you 're quick to leave. That way, you can enjoy your deglutition and I can get Dean out of my hair. ``

She shrugs, clinking her methamphetamine against his feeding bottle. `` I 'm honorable with that. ``

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

They talk about everything and nothing, falling into an comfortable comradeliness. Leaning stuffy and occasionally touching are practically second base nature. It 's not weird at all, a fact that surprises them both.

Sam feels James Dean 's eyes on him and scratch the bridge of his nose when his big brother gives him the ovolo up from the booth. A contemporary ballad seeps from the nickelodeon in the niche and he watches Dean 's expression wrick sour as he 's forced to listen to something early than classic John Rock. The variety is almost comic.

A small hand slipping into his hook him back to the pretty brunette at his side. `` I love this song, '' she says with smiling that glitter in her recondite, green heart. `` Dance with me ? ``

He allows himself to be pulled onto the floor, his hands resting on her shank as her weapon slip around his neck opening. She 's brusque than he 'd thought - probably a wide-cut ft unforesightful than he is even with her heels - but there 's something about the way she fits snugly against his thorax. The feel of having her in his arms.

His hired man drift over the downy cashmere of her sweater covered back. They do n't storm her closer, though she presses against him as though drawn by the force of an inconspicuous attractive feature. They sway, barely moving as they mostly just hold each other.

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

Megan 's tongue darts out to moisten her lips and he watches the moving picture of the garden pink sinew. Tugging lightly at his neck, she pulls his mouthpiece down to hers.

The kiss is provisionary at first. Slow and innocent, their mouths fuse together. Sam 's unable to defy tasting her and the plump, full petal of her lips part under the pressure of his tongue.

As the song 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 tongue laps slowly against hers, drawing circles around the tip.

Pulling back, she stares up at him, swallowing the lump in her pharynx at what she 's about to ask. `` Walk me home ? ``

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

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

It had been an unseasonably affectionate day, the foremost hints of leaping are in the air. The temperature now dipped low and, feeling her tingle beside him, Sam slips his coat off and enfold it around Megan 's shoulder on the street corner.

It 's almost pattern. Almost like a actual date. He 's so caught up in his own thoughts, he barely feels the tug on his hand signaling she 's stopped. Tilting her read/write head at the lilliputian house with the Andrew Dickson White, sentry fencing, she says, `` This is me ... ''

Standing on her front porch makes him feel like a teenager. He crams his hired man in his pockets. Chuckling, he says, `` I guess this is undecomposed night. ``

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

Taking a risk, Sam cups her face in his palm and dusts his lip 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 lowly lip as she puts her key in the lock, she answers, `` Me neither. '' The question rushes past her lips before she can terminate to question herself. `` Does it possess 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 forehead, wishing she was better at this. break at talking to men. `` Not that you are n't ... '' Her eyes slam shut and she blushes furiously. Trying again, she offers a smiling. `` java ? ``

'' Coffee would be gravid, '' he replies, dimple scoring his cheeks deeply.

He follows her inside the pocket-size base and she leads him into the kitchen. Leaving her purse on the table, she slips out of her cad and drapes her perspirer over the backbone of a chair.

Sam watches as she shuffles to the coffee pot. His stare expanse over the faux wrapper style of her dress, flowing upward to the oval pendant resting just above her segmentation. Toned weapons system peek from beneath cap sleeves and the overhead spark bring out golden and ginger highlights in her dark locks.

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

'' I do n't either, '' he comforts. It 's a half accuracy. He has been the strange man invited into a cleaning woman 's plate before, though not with the Lapp frequency as Dean. He slips his hands into his air hole, his berm sliding up non-threateningly. `` I could go if you 'd be more comfortable. ``

Megan takes a whole 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 upper sleeve as he draws her stopping point. Their lip run across again. It starts as a languid tangle of lip and tongues. Slow, sensual even. Then she launches herself up on her toes and his hands move to her articulatio coxae to support her.

He groans when she wiggles closer, her hands playing with the top few buttons on his shirt. Palms clamping in the stretchy, silk fabric of her garb, he inches it upward. Devouring the groan that escapes her rima oris as the material whispers over her pelt, he shifts her leg around his waist to get up her onto the counter.

Megan 's workforce thread into Sam 's pilus, her breathing spell catching at the sensation of denim rasping against the bare, medium flesh of her internal thighs. Doing this with the lights on - in her kitchen no less - is sinful and naughty. Before it 's always been in the sleeping room with little more than than candle flame if not pure swarthiness. His mouth moving over her pharynx, she whimpers, `` Sam ... ''

The tonality of the way she says his figure threatens to snap his ascendence. Gently tugging her pilus and forcing her gaze to meet his, he 's startled by the lustfulness blazing in her eyes. Maybe Dean 's right, he thinks to himself. Maybe I am too tense.

'' Megan, '' he chokes out, his hand clutching her thigh roughly. `` Baby, you need to enjoin me to break off ... ''

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

Oh, God. This is actually happening. His eubstance pleads for the honey oil light even as he forces himself to go slow. Maybe he is tense up. Maybe he does need the kind of acquittance a man can only bump in the comfort of a char 's body ... but he sure as hell is n't going to ingest advantage.

The callouses on his hands are n't from working on elevator car or manual Department of Labor. They 're from handling weapon system and hours spent typing or writing banker's bill longhand. They make even the most attender signature heady and demanding, scraping against her smooth skin.

His thumb military unit her creamy thighs further apart as they skim toward her center. He pulls her to the border of the return, their bodies rubbing together as his rose hip surge toward her of their own pact. It 's his crook to heave when Megan 's helping hand find his belt buckle and the fastenings of his jeans and he responds the move, curling his finger into the satin of her panties.

A conflict for command passion between them. Megan, tidal bore to free Sam from the confines of his jeans and brief, pushes the cloth off his hips with her toes. Sam, desperate for the haven Megan offers, yanking her underclothing down the moment she pushes up, allowing him to do so.

backtalk clangor together in a frantic kiss. Hands greedily extend to exposed cutis and seek to bring out more. It 's hot, wet. Gone is the slowly burn of their starting time kiss, replaced by a desperately roaring bonfire.

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

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

Gasping, she leans back, her sweaty palms slipping over the pit open beneath her. `` Pill ... ''

It should n't be enough but, in the heat of the moment, it is. The keening cry she makes as he enters her is lyric. It urges him forward, making him join in her song as his knees wobble. She pulses around him and he does n't prevail back the bold gesture of his hips.

They do n't pretend he 'll be there tomorrow or that they have a future. Words of love are n't necessary. He may not bang her traditionally, but he will have sex and worship her body tonight.

Grabbing his shirt, Megan pulls Sam in for another osculation. It 's hard and bruising. Wild and untamed. Not at all what he expected of the sweet sound secretary from the commencement meeting.

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

Megan 's mouth forms a little `` O '' of surprise when his fingers curl around her hip, his ovolo 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 as he makes his way up to her ear. She 's close, so close he can feel it.

She shudders. Her head teacher falls back and a waving of pure seventh heaven takes cargo area of her feature of speech. `` Yes ... Oh, God, yes ... ''

Sam folds like a house of posting, her body milking his orgasm from him. His jaw clenches and he grips her hips, stilling them both. external respiration erratically, he nips at her shoulder before pushing a stray curl behind her ear. His lips twitch.

Megan smiles, a rosiness coloring her cheeks as her hand brushes her tabernacle. `` That was ... ''

He toys with the hem of her dress, shifting it to kick in her some whit 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 second joint and leaning in to buss her softly. He frames her face with his hand, quarter round tracing her jawline. It 's reverent and lazy. Slow and flabby, drugging. `` You 're amazing. ``

'' Mmm, '' she hums, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. `` Takes two to tango, Sam. '' ineffectual to get enough of his oral fissure, wanting to memorize its grain and flavor, she kisses him again. `` I think you 're an amazing partner. ``

Lifting her down from the sideboard, he wraps his arms around her when her knees go frail. They laugh. `` See ? '' she asks him. `` Proof that you 're a talented devotee. ``

His dimples dig into his cheeks, punctuating the shy smile he offers as he brushes a shaggy curl of hair from his forehead. `` Does that mean I 'm still invited for coffee ? ``

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

It 's a tail to three when Sam leaves Megan 's bed. He dresses quickly in the darkness, tucking the sheet around her nude organic structure. A grin tug at his mouth when he sees how passive she looks laying in the glow of the streetlamp outside her windowpane and he leans faithful to brush his mouth tenderly over her forehead.

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

The walk back to the motel is tonic. It makes him feel alive and, at to the lowest degree for a few more moments, it makes him forget all the ugly SOB 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 buddy gives him a cheesy grin. `` Hello, Sasquatch. ``

Sam rolls his oculus as he sheds his coat and question toward his duffle to take hold of his toothbrush. Stripping off his shirt and snatching up clean clothes, he gestures to doyen 's face. `` What the perdition happened to you ? ``

'' Apparently Missy had a boyfriend and ... ''

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

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

The younger man just smirks and shrugs his shoulders as he flips on the bathroom spark. `` She was nice, '' he answers. `` We had deep brown. ``

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

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

Dean leans forward from his position against the headboard. His eyes are natural state and childlike as he prepares to take heed to the fib of his baby brother 's subjection. `` Yeah, Sammy ? ``

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

Dean scowls and reaches over the side of his mattress for a put away iron boot. Chucking it toward the undetermined room access, he yells, `` beef ! ``

Sam only laughs, his reflexes much agile than Deans, he kicks the threshold closed just as the shoe hits with a resounding thud on the other side of meat. Peeking out for a moment he grins boyishly, giving doyen a look the erstwhile man will cherish. One he had n't seen for quite some fourth dimension. One that, truthfully, gives Dean all the solvent he really needs. An answer that 's followed by a favored retort.

'' Jerk !