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exeterlindenFandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/OFC, Dean, preslash
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: It was October 2005, coming close to a year after Jessica's death, when they met Marianne at a bar in Wyoming.
Notes: Second of four short stories (can be read separately). First part: Clarissa.
Thank you so much toshay_renoylds and mad_server for beta!
Marianne
It was October 2005, coming close to a year after Jessica's death, when they met Marianne at a bar in Wyoming.
They'd finished a salt and burn job earlier in the day. It had been easy enough; a vengeful, wronged woman, a century old. Standard fare by then, nothing special about it, except for how Sam could feel case for case how they were making this thing work, the two of them without their dad. Working better, he had to admit, than they ever had before.
No-one had died this time, they'd got her before she'd done anyone serious harm. A young couple had gotten a fright, another woman had got a second degree burn, and that was good - that was everyone getting out okay. It was far too rare, and both of them were high on it, laughing and cracking jokes, wiping soot and slime onto each other’s clothes while Dean was speeding down back roads like nothing could kill them.
There was a bar half a mile from the motel they'd picked. Dean's kind of place; the kind reserved for seedy locals and truck drivers. They got cleaned up, Dean sang "Ace of Spades" at the top of his lungs in the shower, and Sam shouted ten variations of "shut up" through the door, to no use. They headed down to the bar on foot, passing Dean's flask between them.
Marianne was the bartender, home for fall break and working towards her tuition. She chatted them up at the end of her shift, approaching Sam first.
Marianne had the attitude of a hunter. She wasn't - not in their sense of the word, but Sam thought that she could have been. She had that cynically amused approach to the world that seemed to be a trademark for most hunters. She held her liquor well and she saw right through Dean's bullshit about working in television. She had a loud laugh, throwing her head back and showing teeth.
After her shift had ended she sat down with them for a couple of beers. She came on to both of them strongly, playing them out against each other a little bit.
Sam was already half drunk, and he rose to the bait because she was smart and beautiful; broad faced, slightly crooked teeth and dark eyes - and because him and Dean used to compete about stuff all the time: an extra slice of pie from the waitress, Julie from Marksville where they lived one summer, their dad's attention - and it came easy, sliding into old habits.
The bar filled up during the night, until there was a constant crowd of people jostling to get served, and Dean and him took turns going for rounds.
Sam had a sticky credit card belonging to Lev Deppard and a ten dollar bill Marianne had given him for a round of shots. He had been waiting for fifteen minutes too get served, watching Dean back at their table. He was leaning towards Marianne, speaking into her ear. She didn't seem drunk, but her eyes were shining and her cheeks were flushed. She was smiling and nodding.
He turned his back to them, rolling his eyes. He had just made his way to the bar and was finally getting served when Dean came up to him and slung an arm around his neck and drew him in, buddy-like, closer than he would have if he was sober.
"Hey, look Sam, I know you dig her, right? I think you should go for her and I'll take my hot self somewhere else."
Sam huffed, "Yeah, that's real kind of you, Dean. Did you run your plan by Marianne, too?"
“Actually, Sammy, I did."
Dean grinned wide and wicked. Sam looked past his smug smile to see Marianne following their conversation intently. When their eyes met she smirked at him and raised one eyebrow, a gesture eerily similar to Dean’s.
Sam tried to ignore the blood suddenly rushing to his dick, his pulse speeding up just at the thought of it.
"Dude, I don't fucking believe you."
"Yeah well, you know, I’m your big brother, gotta look out for you, you haven't been too smooth with the ladies lately."
Dean gripped the back of his neck, warm hand squeezing, shaking him slightly.
"So what do you think?"
Sam's first thought, for some reason, was what his college friends would have thought about a deal like that, a girl like Marianne, or a brother like Dean. He was reminded of the face Jess made when she first met Dean, blank faced and silently disagreeing.
Then he remembered her pale, terrified face looking down at him from above.
He put his beer down and shrugged out of Dean's embrace. His hands suddenly felt large and numb, he hadn't realized just how drunk he was.
"You know what, I'm going to go."
"Dude, what a kill joy."
Dean said it lightly, but Sam could see real concern in his eyes, hear the slight disappointment.
"I'll go grab a cup of coffee, do some research, I won't come back to the motel for a couple of hours."
He went to a nearby all-night diner which he shared with probably the town's only hooker and a couple of loud, red-faced business men. He drank two cups of coffee and a glass of ice water but he was still too drunk and too tired to do research. He ended up looking out the window, seeing nothing but haloed street lamps and his own reflection in the glass, and thinking about Jess, and Dean and Marianne.
He stayed for exactly two and a half hours and then he paid his tab and cast a sympathetic glance at the prostitute, who was still sitting between the business men, wearing a professional smile that looked more and more strained.
When he got back to their room Marianne was still there, sleeping with her naked back towards the door, one tanned arm slung over Dean's chest. It was a break from the routine of one of their many unspoken agreements, and it stopped Sam in his tracks, left him standing outside, looking at them in the shaft of light from the door.
Dean mumbled something and turned to his side, and Sam thought screw it, he was tired and drunk, and he wanted to sleep. He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He left his jeans and shirt in a pile on the floor and burrowed down into the soft motel duvet.
He was woken sometime in the early morning by a sound or a sense of movement. He could hear the indistinct murmur of Dean and Marianne whispering together, the duvet muffling the sound of Marianne's soft laugh. He fell asleep again.
It was still dark outside when he was woken a second time. Marianne was beside him in his bed, her fingers already on him, a warm hand resting low on his stomach, one finger dipping tentatively beneath the elastics of his waistband.
"Wha... Marianne."
He tried to sit up, his eyes instantly moving towards Dean's bed, but Marianne was pressing him softly down into the mattress and muttering reassurances,
"Ssh, it's okay, I really want this, okay; Dean thinks it's cool, don't worry," and kissing him with sleep-warm lips.
Her hair fell down on either side of his face when she leaned down to his mouth. He could feel the press of her teeth against his lips. She smelled warm and sleepy, like sex and - it had been so long, he had been aching to be touched, even if this was pretty sleazy.
When Marianne moved to straddle him, he glanced nervously towards Dean's bed. He was surprised to catch Dean's eyes, wide open and glistening dully with reflected light.
He let his head fall back, confused and turned on, and Marianne was there straight away, her tongue in his mouth, her hips rocking gently. His hands traveled uncertainly up her thighs to rest on her waist. She was naked and beautiful above him in the half-dark, smiling her crooked smile, and when she leaned back to edge his boxers down, he followed her to catch her mouth again, giving in to it.
He ran his hands over her small breasts, her wide nipples, the soft curve of her hips. Marianne touched herself while she moved on him, gasping into the silence, and Sam tried hard to turn his mind off, to just go with it.
He deliberately didn't turn his head again, but he could sense Dean not three feet away, lying perfectly still on the opposite bed; turned towards them, awake and watching.
When he woke up the next day Marianne was gone. Dean made a couple of awkward jokes about what had happened, embarrassed but obviously satisfied somehow, like Sam sleeping with someone was a natural next step in putting his grief behind him.
Maybe it was. It started something back up again. Sam watching Dean, seeing someone other than his brother - a kind of awareness of him, that Sam thought he had left behind for good when he had left to go to college.
Part 3: Leigh
Pairing: Sam/OFC, Dean, preslash
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Summary: It was October 2005, coming close to a year after Jessica's death, when they met Marianne at a bar in Wyoming.
Notes: Second of four short stories (can be read separately). First part: Clarissa.
Thank you so much to
shay_renoylds and mad_server for beta!Marianne
It was October 2005, coming close to a year after Jessica's death, when they met Marianne at a bar in Wyoming.
They'd finished a salt and burn job earlier in the day. It had been easy enough; a vengeful, wronged woman, a century old. Standard fare by then, nothing special about it, except for how Sam could feel case for case how they were making this thing work, the two of them without their dad. Working better, he had to admit, than they ever had before.
No-one had died this time, they'd got her before she'd done anyone serious harm. A young couple had gotten a fright, another woman had got a second degree burn, and that was good - that was everyone getting out okay. It was far too rare, and both of them were high on it, laughing and cracking jokes, wiping soot and slime onto each other’s clothes while Dean was speeding down back roads like nothing could kill them.
There was a bar half a mile from the motel they'd picked. Dean's kind of place; the kind reserved for seedy locals and truck drivers. They got cleaned up, Dean sang "Ace of Spades" at the top of his lungs in the shower, and Sam shouted ten variations of "shut up" through the door, to no use. They headed down to the bar on foot, passing Dean's flask between them.
Marianne was the bartender, home for fall break and working towards her tuition. She chatted them up at the end of her shift, approaching Sam first.
Marianne had the attitude of a hunter. She wasn't - not in their sense of the word, but Sam thought that she could have been. She had that cynically amused approach to the world that seemed to be a trademark for most hunters. She held her liquor well and she saw right through Dean's bullshit about working in television. She had a loud laugh, throwing her head back and showing teeth.
After her shift had ended she sat down with them for a couple of beers. She came on to both of them strongly, playing them out against each other a little bit.
Sam was already half drunk, and he rose to the bait because she was smart and beautiful; broad faced, slightly crooked teeth and dark eyes - and because him and Dean used to compete about stuff all the time: an extra slice of pie from the waitress, Julie from Marksville where they lived one summer, their dad's attention - and it came easy, sliding into old habits.
The bar filled up during the night, until there was a constant crowd of people jostling to get served, and Dean and him took turns going for rounds.
Sam had a sticky credit card belonging to Lev Deppard and a ten dollar bill Marianne had given him for a round of shots. He had been waiting for fifteen minutes too get served, watching Dean back at their table. He was leaning towards Marianne, speaking into her ear. She didn't seem drunk, but her eyes were shining and her cheeks were flushed. She was smiling and nodding.
He turned his back to them, rolling his eyes. He had just made his way to the bar and was finally getting served when Dean came up to him and slung an arm around his neck and drew him in, buddy-like, closer than he would have if he was sober.
"Hey, look Sam, I know you dig her, right? I think you should go for her and I'll take my hot self somewhere else."
Sam huffed, "Yeah, that's real kind of you, Dean. Did you run your plan by Marianne, too?"
“Actually, Sammy, I did."
Dean grinned wide and wicked. Sam looked past his smug smile to see Marianne following their conversation intently. When their eyes met she smirked at him and raised one eyebrow, a gesture eerily similar to Dean’s.
Sam tried to ignore the blood suddenly rushing to his dick, his pulse speeding up just at the thought of it.
"Dude, I don't fucking believe you."
"Yeah well, you know, I’m your big brother, gotta look out for you, you haven't been too smooth with the ladies lately."
Dean gripped the back of his neck, warm hand squeezing, shaking him slightly.
"So what do you think?"
Sam's first thought, for some reason, was what his college friends would have thought about a deal like that, a girl like Marianne, or a brother like Dean. He was reminded of the face Jess made when she first met Dean, blank faced and silently disagreeing.
Then he remembered her pale, terrified face looking down at him from above.
He put his beer down and shrugged out of Dean's embrace. His hands suddenly felt large and numb, he hadn't realized just how drunk he was.
"You know what, I'm going to go."
"Dude, what a kill joy."
Dean said it lightly, but Sam could see real concern in his eyes, hear the slight disappointment.
"I'll go grab a cup of coffee, do some research, I won't come back to the motel for a couple of hours."
He went to a nearby all-night diner which he shared with probably the town's only hooker and a couple of loud, red-faced business men. He drank two cups of coffee and a glass of ice water but he was still too drunk and too tired to do research. He ended up looking out the window, seeing nothing but haloed street lamps and his own reflection in the glass, and thinking about Jess, and Dean and Marianne.
He stayed for exactly two and a half hours and then he paid his tab and cast a sympathetic glance at the prostitute, who was still sitting between the business men, wearing a professional smile that looked more and more strained.
When he got back to their room Marianne was still there, sleeping with her naked back towards the door, one tanned arm slung over Dean's chest. It was a break from the routine of one of their many unspoken agreements, and it stopped Sam in his tracks, left him standing outside, looking at them in the shaft of light from the door.
Dean mumbled something and turned to his side, and Sam thought screw it, he was tired and drunk, and he wanted to sleep. He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. He left his jeans and shirt in a pile on the floor and burrowed down into the soft motel duvet.
He was woken sometime in the early morning by a sound or a sense of movement. He could hear the indistinct murmur of Dean and Marianne whispering together, the duvet muffling the sound of Marianne's soft laugh. He fell asleep again.
It was still dark outside when he was woken a second time. Marianne was beside him in his bed, her fingers already on him, a warm hand resting low on his stomach, one finger dipping tentatively beneath the elastics of his waistband.
"Wha... Marianne."
He tried to sit up, his eyes instantly moving towards Dean's bed, but Marianne was pressing him softly down into the mattress and muttering reassurances,
"Ssh, it's okay, I really want this, okay; Dean thinks it's cool, don't worry," and kissing him with sleep-warm lips.
Her hair fell down on either side of his face when she leaned down to his mouth. He could feel the press of her teeth against his lips. She smelled warm and sleepy, like sex and - it had been so long, he had been aching to be touched, even if this was pretty sleazy.
When Marianne moved to straddle him, he glanced nervously towards Dean's bed. He was surprised to catch Dean's eyes, wide open and glistening dully with reflected light.
He let his head fall back, confused and turned on, and Marianne was there straight away, her tongue in his mouth, her hips rocking gently. His hands traveled uncertainly up her thighs to rest on her waist. She was naked and beautiful above him in the half-dark, smiling her crooked smile, and when she leaned back to edge his boxers down, he followed her to catch her mouth again, giving in to it.
He ran his hands over her small breasts, her wide nipples, the soft curve of her hips. Marianne touched herself while she moved on him, gasping into the silence, and Sam tried hard to turn his mind off, to just go with it.
He deliberately didn't turn his head again, but he could sense Dean not three feet away, lying perfectly still on the opposite bed; turned towards them, awake and watching.
When he woke up the next day Marianne was gone. Dean made a couple of awkward jokes about what had happened, embarrassed but obviously satisfied somehow, like Sam sleeping with someone was a natural next step in putting his grief behind him.
Maybe it was. It started something back up again. Sam watching Dean, seeing someone other than his brother - a kind of awareness of him, that Sam thought he had left behind for good when he had left to go to college.
Part 3: Leigh
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-02 07:59 pm (UTC)What is this "something"? I could be dense, but I've read this over several times and I'm still not sure what the implication is here. Is seeing someone other than his brother what Sam thought he left behind, or is it Dean and the feelings he had for Dean that Sam thought he left behind? I'm inclined to think it's the latter.
At any rate - good work - and hot. I am looking forward to the next two stories.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-02 08:09 pm (UTC)Thanks for the nice words :)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-02 09:14 pm (UTC)Looking forward to more,
Lynsey
(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-02 10:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-03 01:48 am (UTC)And just like the first part, I love this. You've got their voices down well.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-05-03 04:19 pm (UTC)