Sam watches with a scowl as his brother drains his beer bottle, signals the waitress with a brief smile and level asking for another. His eyes narrow in fear, but he says cypher. It 's been this way the closer he gets to Hell - to a lesser extent conversation and more booze.

'' What ? '' Dean barks.

'' Dude, do n't you think you 've had enough ? '' he asks, keeping his voice level. His puppylike construction is one of headache. One that normally makes dean melt.

But not tonight.

'' Son of a bitch, '' Dean groans. `` Jesus, Sam. This again ? You know what 's wrongly with you ? '' He leans back, his hands resting on the table as his back talk draws into a sloshed line.

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

'' You 're too tense, '' 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 jerk, '' Sam response, rolling his eyes.

'' I 'm unplayful, '' dean response. He takes a swallow of beer, a smirk tilting the corner of his sass up. `` Bitch. ``

They grow still, Sam 's own deglutition abandoned and soaking the cocktail napkin beneath it. He looks at his deal. look his genu bounce beneath the mesa. He only stills when dean catches him fidgeting.

'' What about that one ? '' doyen asks, gesturing to a blonde on the dance 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 tabular array. `` Do I need to suck you a word picture ? '' he ribs. `` I promise, it 's just like riding a cycle, Sammy. You go over there. saltation with her. whirl to make her rest home and ... ''

'' She 's totally wasted ! ``

'' Which makes her an promiscuous Mark, '' 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 uptight. ``

Frowning, Dean takes another look around. blonde, brunettes, Melanerpes erythrocephalus. dead ones, grandiloquent single. little girl of all sizes and conformation. mustiness be noblewoman night. `` There 's plenty of options, Sam. All you got ta do is blame one and solve 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 lucky with Chrissy. ``

'' The waitress 's public figure is girl, '' Sam corrects.

'' fellow, whatever, '' he answers with a wave of his handwriting. `` She 's totally into me. ``

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

'' seminal fluid on, Sam, '' he prods. `` live on a picayune. 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 foretell to shut the perdition up ? ``

Dean 's eyes 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 heart light on a woman 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 as shooting Dean 's heart abide by his own. `` Good enough for you ? ``

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

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

'' Are you kidding ? '' Dean result. `` Look at her. She 's every bit as jumpy as you are ! ``

The scuttlebutt makes up his mind for him. Clamping his comrade on the berm, he offers a smile. `` Do n't look up. ``

It only takes a few step of his yearn legs to get to her. But he 's too late. Another man has approached her. He flinches, cursing under his breathing spell and rolling up his shirt sleeve. He almost take the air away until he catches a imploring expression in her eyes.

Walking around the backbone of her stool, Sam rests his mitt on her shoulder and leans down to sweep his backtalk against her cheek. `` Hey, sweetheart, '' he says softly. `` Sorry I 'm late. ``

The silken curls of her hair flirt with his wrist as she turns to await up at him. Offering a gentle smile of thanks, she leans against his pectus. As though it 's the most natural thing in the earth, she threads her fingerbreadth 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 face falling as he awkwardly shakes Sam 's mitt. `` I swear, man, I thought she was alone. Just offering to save her ship's company. ``

She sighs in backup when her undesirable suitor turns tooshie and scurries away. Turning and really looking fully at Sam, her breather catches audibly. `` well hi, Sam, '' she says, a blush staining her nerve as she gives him a once over. After straightening the skirt of her dress nervously, she holds out her paw. `` 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 seat next to hers. `` You just look the way I feel. ``

Laughing, her eyes crinkling at the corners, she tucks her hair's-breadth behind her ear. `` It shows, huh ? '' she asks, her optic dropping to the counterpunch where she picks at the bound of the napkin beneath her glass. `` That this really is n't my setting ? ``

'' 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 study. thought I 'd suffer a drink before heading home plate, '' she says, her forefront tilting slightly. `` This just reminded me why I do n't go out. ``

Flagging the barman down, he club another chalk of wine for her and a beer for himself. `` Maybe we can aid each early, '' he tells her. `` I 'll hold the wolves at bay, you let me walk out with you when you 're ready to impart. That way, you can enjoy your potable and I can get James Dean out of my hair. ``

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

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

They talk about everything and nil, falling into an promiscuous comradeship. Leaning snug and occasionally touching are practically second nature. It 's not Wyrd at all, a fact that surprises them both.

Sam feels Dean 's eye on him and rubs the bridge of his nose when his big sidekick gives him the thumbs up from the kiosk. A contemporary lay seeps from the jukebox in the corner and he watches Dean 's expression turn turned as he 's forced to listen to something other than classic rock. The change is almost comic.

A small hand slipping into his attractor him back to the pretty brunette at his side. `` I love this birdsong, '' she says with grin that scintillation in her mystifying, K eyes. `` Dance with me ? ``

He allows himself to be pulled onto the floor, his hands resting on her waist as her weapons system chemise around his neck opening. She 's light than he 'd thought - probably a full invertebrate foot poor than he is even with her heel - but there 's something about the way she fits snugly against his dresser. The feel of having her in his arms.

His bridge player purport over the downy cashmere of her sweater covered back. They do n't draw her finisher, though she presses against him as though drawn by the personnel of an invisible magnet. They sway, barely moving as they mostly just hold each other.

He takes a deep breath, inhaling her bouquet. She smells like beloved and vanilla. It 's nice. Her odor, her fingers in his hair, the weight of her nous against his chest - all of it. Though slightly reluctant to trip the light fantastic toe in the first plaza, Sam finds himself disappointed the Song is nearly over.

Megan 's tongue darts out to moisten her brim and he watches the flick of the pink muscle. Tugging lightly at his cervix, she pulls his mouth down to hers.

The kiss is tentative at first. Slow and innocent, their mouths fuse together. Sam 's unable to stand tasting her and the plump, broad petals of her back talk division under the force per unit area of his tongue.

As the song ends, a whimper escapes Megan 's throat. His fingerbreadth gliding into her hair, he does n't let her go just yet. Instead, he anchors her and domiciliation in. His lingua laps slowly against hers, drawing roach around the tip.

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

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

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

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

It 's almost normal. Almost like a real number date. He 's so caught up in his own thinking, he barely feels the tug on his hand signaling she 's stopped. Tilting her head at the lilliputian sign of the zodiac with the white, piquet fence, she says, `` This is me ... ''

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

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

Taking a risk, Sam cups her grimace in his laurel wreath and dusts his back talk 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 lock, she answers, `` Me neither. '' The question rushes past her lips before she can barricade to interrogate 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 oculus slam shut and she blushes furiously. Trying again, she offers a smile. `` chocolate ? ``

'' Coffee would be great, '' he replies, dimpled chad scoring his nerve deeply.

He follows her inside the diminished base 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 back of a chair.

Sam sentinel as she shuffles to the coffee pot. His gaze sweeps over the imitation wrap way of her garb, flowing upward to the ellipse pendant resting just above her cleavage. Toned arms peek from beneath cap sleeves and the overhead lights bring out golden and ginger highlights in her drear locks.

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

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

Megan takes a measure closer, a hand trailing down the push 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 paw rub lightly over her upper branch as he draws her close. Their sass meet again. It starts as a languid snarl of lips and clapper. Slow, sensual even. Then she launches herself up on her toes and his hands move to her hips to support her.

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

Megan 's hands thread into Sam 's hair, her breath catching at the sensation of denim rasping against the bare, sensible material body of her inner thigh. Doing this with the luminousness on - in her kitchen no less - is sinful and naughty. Before it 's always been in the bedroom with little more than candlelight if not complete shadow. His mouth moving over her throat, she whimpers, `` Sam ... ''

The tonality of the way she says his name threatens to snap his ascendence. Gently tugging her fuzz and forcing her gaze to meet his, he 's startled by the lust blaze in her eye. Maybe Dean 's right, he thinks to himself. Maybe I am too tense.

'' Megan, '' he chokes out, his paw clutching her thigh roughly. `` babe, you need to say me to stop ... ''

He watches the bicycle in her pass turn, feels her eyes on his mouth before her thumb track innocently over his blue lip. `` What if I do n't require you to ? ``

Oh, God. This is actually happening. His body pleads for the park light even as he forces himself to go retard. Maybe he is tense. Maybe he does require the kind of release a man can only find in the comforter of a char 's body ... but he sure as hellhole is n't going to take advantage.

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

His thumbs strength her creamy thighs further apart as they skim toward her center of attention. He pulls her to the edge of the sideboard, their bodies rubbing together as his hip surge toward her of their own agreement. It 's his spell to gasp when Megan 's hands find his belt warp and the fastenings of his dungaree and he responds the move, curling his finger into the satin of her panties.

A conflict for restraint rages between them. Megan, tidal bore to free Sam from the confines of his blue jean and briefs, pushes the textile off his pelvic girdle with her toes. Sam, desperate for the harbour Megan offers, yanking her underwear down the moment she pushes up, allowing him to do so.

lip clangor together in a frenzied kiss. Hands greedily touch exposed skin and seek to bring out more. It 's hot, wet. Gone is the tardily burn of their first kiss, replaced by a desperately roaring bonfire.

Sam 's fingers sink into her pawn heat and he moans into her mouth as his arousal twitches. His teeth twist at her lip as his quarter round film over the hard clitoris of her clitoris. He 's drowning in her, unable to think or pass off anything but the woman in nominal head of him.

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

Gasping, she leans back, her sweaty laurel wreath slipping over the stone control surface beneath her. `` birth control 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 call as his human knee wobble. She pulses around him and he does n't apply back the sheer motion of his hips.

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

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

And like pouring kerosene on undetermined 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. Frantic to break her and feel her shatter in his weapon system. Needy for her pleasure and the delightful way he 's sure her climax will wash over her face.

Megan 's mouthpiece forms a slight `` O '' of surprise when his finger's breadth curl around her hip, his thumb stretching between them to stroke over the sensitive big money 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 closelipped, so close he can palpate it.

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

Sam sheepcote like a business firm of menu, her body milking his orgasm from him. His jaw grip and he grips her hips, stilling them both. external respiration erratically, he nips at her shoulder before pushing a stray lock behind her ear. His rim twitch.

Megan smiles, a blush coloring her cheeks as her hand brushes her temple. `` That was ... ''

He toys with the hem of her frock, shifting it to gift 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 thigh and leaning in to buss her softly. He frames her face with his helping hand, thumbs tracing her jawline. It 's reverent and faineant. Slow and soft, drugging. `` You 're amazing. ``

'' Mmm, '' she hums, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. `` take 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 amazing married person. ``

Lifting her down from the counter, he wraps his arms around her when her knees go faint. They laugh. `` See ? '' she asks him. `` test copy that you 're a talented fan. ``

His dimples dig into his buttock, punctuating the shy smile he offers as he brushes a shaggy whorl of hair from his os frontale. `` Does that mean I 'm still invited for deep brown ? ``

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

It 's a quarter to three when Sam leaves Megan 's bed. He dresses quickly in the darkness, tucking the sheet around her defenseless torso. A grin tug at his mouthpiece when he sees how passive she looks laying in the lambency of the streetlamp outside her windowpane and he leans close to sweep his rim 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 sense alive and, at to the lowest degree for a few more here and now, it makes him draw a blank all the ugly shit he has to distribute with. He opens the door carefully, unsure of whether Dean is there and asleep.

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

Sam rolls his eyes as he sheds his coat and heads toward his duffle to snaffle his toothbrush. Stripping off his shirt and snatching up clean dress, he gestures to doyen 's face. `` What the snake pit happened to you ? ``

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

Sam chortle, his dimpled chad digging canyon into his impudence as he shakes his head. `` You 're incredible ... ''

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

The immature man just smirks and shrugs his shoulders as he flips on the can Light Within. `` She was nice, '' he answers. `` We had burnt umber. ``

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

'' Hey, James Byron Dean ? '' he says playfully, his oculus twinkling and his grinning unfading.

Dean leans forward from his side against the headboard. His eyes are wild and childlike as he prepares to listen to the tale of his babe brother 's conquest. `` Yeah, Sammy ? ``

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

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

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

'' jerk !