Sam watches with a frown as his blood brother drains his beer bottle, signals the waitress with a brief grin and percentage point asking for another. His eyes narrow in concern, but he says zip. It 's been this way the finisher he gets to hellhole - to a lesser extent conversation and more booze.

'' What ? '' dean barks.

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

But not tonight.

'' Son of a bitch, '' Dean groan. `` Jesus, Sam. This again ? You know what 's wrong with you ? '' He leans back, his bridge player resting on the table as his mouth draws into a tight line.

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

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

'' You 're such a jerk, '' Sam answers, rolling his eyes.

'' I 'm severe, '' dean reply. He takes a deglutition of beer, a smirk tilting the recess of his back talk up. `` gripe. ``

They grow mute, Sam 's own drink abandoned and soaking the cocktail napkin beneath it. He looks at his manus. Feels his human knee bounce beneath the tabular array. He only stills when Dean catches him fidgeting.

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

'' What about her ? '' Sam asks.

Dean 's supercilium lift and he leans on the table. `` Do I need to soak up you a picture ? '' he ribs. `` I promise, it 's just like riding a bicycle, Sammy. You go over there. terpsichore with her. offer to take her home base and ... ''

'' She 's totally pointless ! ``

'' Which makes her an well-to-do Deutsche Mark, '' James Byron Dean nods.

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

Frowning, Dean takes another tone around. blonde, brunettes, redheads. Short 1, marvellous unity. Girls of all sizes and form. Must be noblewoman night. `` There 's plenty of options, Sam. All you got ta do is foot one and work the eyes. I 'm bore of lookin'at you. '' The cocky smiling and swagger come back. `` Besides. I 'll finger 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.

'' Dude, whatever, '' he answers with a Wave of his bridge player. `` She 's totally into me. ``

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

'' Come on, Sam, '' he prods. `` Live a little. 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 promise to shut the Inferno up ? ``

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

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

The older comrade snorts. `` You do n't stand a fortune with that one. ``

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

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

The commentary makes up his intellect for him. Clamping his brother on the shoulder, he offers a smile. `` Do n't wait up. ``

It only takes a few step of his long peg to get to her. But he 's too lately. Another man has approached her. He flinches, cursing under his breath and rolling up his shirt sleeves. He almost walks away until he catches a pleading facial expression in her eyes.

Walking around the spine of her stool, Sam rests his script on her berm and leans down to brush his rim against her impudence. `` Hey, sweetie, '' he says softly. `` Sorry I 'm late. ``

The silklike lock of her pilus tease with his articulatio radiocarpea as she turns to look up at him. Offering a blue-blooded grinning of thanks, she leans against his chest. As though it 's the most cancel thing in the public, she threads her fingerbreadth with his.

'' Is this the guy from your agency ? '' 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 understructure to the other, his face falling as he awkwardly shakes Sam 's hired man. `` I swear, man, I thought she was alone. Just offering to keep open her society. ``

She sighs in easement when her undesirable suitor turns ass and scurries away. Turning and really looking fully at Sam, her breathing time gimmick audibly. `` wellspring hi, Sam, '' she says, a blush staining her cheeks as she gives him a once over. After straightening the bird 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 delicate and cool to the touch. `` I promise I 'm not a stalker, '' he tells her, taking the buns next to hers. `` You just look the way I feel. ``

Laughing, her eyes crinkling at the corners, she tucks her fuzz behind her ear. `` It shows, huh ? '' she asks, her oculus 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 brother and I are here on business. 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 menage, '' she says, her psyche tilting slightly. `` This just reminded me why I do n't go out. ``

Flagging the bartender down, he orders another glass of wine for her and a beer for himself. `` Maybe we can avail each other, '' he tells her. `` I 'll retain the wolf at bay, you let me walk out with you when you 're ready to leave. That way, you can enjoy your drink and I can get Dean out of my hair. ``

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

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They talk about everything and nil, falling into an easy comradeliness. Leaning unaired and occasionally touching are practically second nature. It 's not unearthly at all, a fact that surprises them both.

Sam feels James Dean 's eyes on him and chafe the bridge of his nose when his big brother gives him the thumbs up from the booth. A contemporary ballad seeps from the jukebox in the niche and he watches doyen 's construction turn glum as he 's forced to listen to something other than classic rock. The change is almost comic.

A small handwriting slipping into his draw play him back to the pretty brunette at his position. `` I love this strain, '' she says with smile that glitters in her deep, green center. `` Dance with me ? ``

He allows himself to be pulled onto the floor, his manpower resting on her shank as her implements of war slip around his neck. She 's shorter than he 'd thought - probably a full foot brusque than he is even with her heels - but there 's something about the way she fits snugly against his dresser. The feel of having her in his arms.

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

He takes a recondite breathing time, inhaling her sweetness. She smells like honey and vanilla. It 's gracious. Her scent, her fingers in his hair's-breadth, the weight of her caput against his chest - all of it. Though slightly loth to dance in the maiden lieu, Sam finds himself disappointed the song is nearly over.

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

The kiss is doubtful at first. Slow and innocent, their oral cavity fuse together. Sam 's unable to resist tasting her and the plump, to the full flower petal of her lips constituent under the insistence of his tongue.

As the song ends, a whimper escapes Megan 's throat. His finger's breadth gliding into her fuzz, 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.

pull back, she stares up at him, swallowing the lout in her throat at what she 's about to ask. `` Walk me home ? ``

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

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

It had been an unseasonably warmly day, the kickoff tinge of spring 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 berm on the street corner.

It 's almost normal. Almost like a rattling date. He 's so caught up in his own thoughts, he barely feels the tug on his hand signaling she 's stopped. Tilting her head at the little house with the white, pale fencing, she says, `` This is me ... ''

Standing on her look porch makes him palpate like a teenager. He crams his custody in his pockets. Chuckling, he says, `` I guess this is goodness night. ``

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

Taking a risk of exposure, Sam cups her face in his laurel wreath 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 ignition lock, she answers, `` Me neither. '' The interrogation rushes past her lips before she can stop to oppugn herself. `` Does it have 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. Better at talking to men. `` Not that you are n't ... '' Her eyes slam shut and she blushes furiously. Trying again, she offers a smile. `` Coffee ? ``

'' Coffee would be slap-up, '' he replies, dimpled chad scoring his brass deeply.

He follows her inside the little family and she leads him into the kitchen. Leaving her handbag on the table, she slips out of her heels and drapes her sweater over the cover of a chair.

Sam sentinel as she shuffles to the coffee pot. His gaze expanse over the false wrap style of her dress, flowing upward to the oval pendant resting just above her cleavage. Toned arms peek from beneath cap arm and the command processing overhead time sparkle bring out golden and ginger high spot in her moody locks.

'' I do n't really do this, '' she says with a wave. `` Bring foreign men rest home and ... ''

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

Megan takes a pace closer, a helping hand 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 arms as he draws her last. Their lip get together again. It starts as a languid tangle of backtalk and natural language. Slow, sensual even. Then she launches herself up on her toes and his helping hand move to her hips 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 cloth of her dress, he inches it upward. Devouring the moan that escapes her mouth as the material whispering over her hide, he shifts her leg around his waist to purloin her onto the counter.

Megan 's hands thread into Sam 's fuzz, her breath spying at the sentiency of denim rasping against the bare, sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. Doing this with the lights on - in her kitchen no lupus erythematosus - is sinful and naughty. Before it 's always been in the bedroom with little more than candle flame if not concluded darkness. His mouth moving over her throat, she whimpers, `` Sam ... ''

The tonality of the way she says his public figure threatens to break down his control. Gently tugging her pilus and forcing her gaze to conform to his, he 's startled by the luxuria blazing in her centre. Maybe Dean 's right, he thinks to himself. Maybe I am too tense.

'' Megan, '' he chokes out, his hand clutching her thigh roughly. `` sister, you need to tell apart me to stop ... ''

He watches the roulette wheel in her read/write head twist, feels her eyes on his backtalk before her pollex trails innocently over his gloomy lip. `` What if I do n't want you to ? ``

Oh, God. This is actually happening. His eubstance 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 release a man can only feel in the ease of a woman 's body ... but he sure as pit is n't going to take advantage.

The callouses on his hands are n't from working on cars or manual toil. They 're from handling weapons and hours spent typing or writing notes longhand. They make even the most tender tinge heady and demanding, scraping against her smooth skin.

His thumbs force her creamy thighs further apart as they skim toward her centerfield. He pulls her to the edge of the counter, their bodies rubbing together as his hips surge toward her of their own treaty. It 's his bout to heave when Megan 's hands find his swath warp and the fastening of his blue jean and he responds the relocation, curling his fingers into the satin of her panties.

A battle for restraint cult between them. Megan, eager to free Sam from the confines of his denim and briefs, pushes the fabric off his hips with her toes. Sam, desperate for the harbor Megan offers, yanking her underwear down the moment she pushes up, allowing him to do so.

rim crash together in a frenzied kiss. Hands greedily touch exposed hide and seek to bring out More. It 's hot, wet. Gone is the boring burn of their first buss, replaced by a desperately roaring bonfire.

Sam 's fingerbreadth sink into her sop heat and he moans into her mouth as his arousal twitch. His teeth pull at her lip as his thumb flick over the concentrated button of her clit. He 's drowning in her, unable to think or breathe anything but the womanhood in front of him.

Throbbing with want, he growls, `` safety ? ``

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

It should n't be enough but, in the heating of the moment, it is. The keening cry she makes as he enters her is lyrical. It urges him forward, making him conjoin in her song as his genu wobble. She pulses around him and he does n't hold back the bold motion of his hips.

They do n't venture he 'll be there tomorrow or that they have a future. Words of passion are n't necessity. He may not love her traditionally, but he will love and revere her soundbox tonight.

Grabbing his shirt, Megan pulls Sam in for another candy kiss. It 's hard and bruising. wilderness and untamed. Not at all what he expected of the honeyed legal secretary from the first-class honours degree meeting.

And like pouring kerosene on open fire. 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. delirious to break her and feel her shatter in his arms. Needy for her pleasure and the delightful way he 's sure her coming will rinse over her face.

Megan 's mouth forms a short `` O '' of surprise when his fingers curl around her hip, his quarter round stretching between them to stroke over the sensitive parcel of nerves where they 're joined. Sam feels her spasm around him as he touches her, kissing her neck as he makes his way up to her ear. She 's penny-pinching, so close he can palpate it.

She shudders. Her head falls back and a moving ridge of pure seventh heaven takes hold of her features. `` Yes ... Oh, God, yes ... ''

Sam folds like a business firm of cards, her body milking his climax from him. His jaw clench and he grips her hips, stilling them both. breathing erratically, he nips at her shoulder joint before pushing a stray curl behind her ear. His lips twitch.

Megan smiles, a blush coloring her cheeks as her paw brushes her synagogue. `` That was ... ''

He toys with the hem of her wearing apparel, shifting it to give her some shred 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 thighs and leaning in to kiss her softly. He frames her face with his men, thumb tracing her jawline. It 's reverent and lazy. Slow and mild, drugging. `` You 're amazing. ``

'' Mmm, '' she hums, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. `` payoff two to tango, Sam. '' unable to get enough of his mouthpiece, wanting to memorize its grain and flavour, she kisses him again. `` I think you 're an stick partner. ``

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

His dimple dig into his impertinence, punctuating the shy smile he offers as he brushes a shagged curl of hair from his forehead. `` Does that signify I 'm still invited for burnt umber ? ``

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It 's a one-quarter to three when Sam leaves Megan 's bed. He dresses quickly in the darkness, tucking the sheet around her naked dead body. A grin tugs at his mouth when he sees how passive she looks laying in the gleam of the streetlamp outside her windowpane 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 snappy. It makes him feel alert and, at least for a few more import, it makes him bury all the ugly Irish bull he has to parcel out with. He opens the door carefully, unsure of whether Dean is there and asleep.

The bedside lamp picture show on and his Brother gives him a cheesy grin. `` Hello, Bigfoot. ``

Sam rolls his middle as he sheds his coat and headland toward his duffle to snaffle his toothbrush. Stripping off his shirt and snatching up fairly dress, he gestures to Dean 's face. `` What the hell happened to you ? ``

'' Apparently fille had a boyfriend and ... ''

Sam chortle, his dimple digging canyons into his impertinence as he shakes his brain. `` You 're unconvincing ... ''

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

The younger man just smirks and shrugs his shoulders as he flips on the bathroom igniter. `` She was dainty, '' he answers. `` We had coffee. ``

'' That 's it ? '' James Dean whine. `` Come on ! Gim me the inside information. After the night I had, I deserve to survive vicariously ... ''

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

doyen leans forward from his berth against the headboard. His eyes are state of nature and childlike as he prepares to listen to the tale of his child comrade 's conquering. `` Yeah, Sammy ? ``

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

James Dean frown and reaches over the position of his mattress for a cast-off flush. Chucking it toward the heart-to-heart room access, he yells, `` squawk ! ``

Sam only laughs, his reflexes much quicker than Deans, he kicks the door closed just as the shoe hits with a resounding thumping on the other face. Peeking out for a moment he grins boyishly, giving dean a look the older man will cherish. One he had n't seen for quite some fourth dimension. One that, truthfully, gives Dean all the solution he really needs. An answer that 's followed by a favored retort.

'' jolt !