The hunt had been a borderline disaster. Grace leaned against the shower wall, awkwardly prying clumps of dirt out of her hair. Her shoulder throbbed from three shallow lacerations a couple inches in length. She rolled it experimentally and hissed. Fucking werewolf. Grace braced herself and grabbed the soap. Lathering up she moved under the shower stream and grimaced as she cleaned the wounds.
"Grace. You okay?" Sam's voice rang out.
"Fuck off." There was no reply. She pressed her forehead to the cool tiles and let the beat of water on her back calm her. They'd only been trying to help her. Grace cranked the shower off and dried herself. She draped a towel under her arms, tied in a knot, and marched out the bathroom. The motel room was gloomy, a dirty beige painting the walls. Sam was sitting scrunched in half on an arm chair that was tiny compared to him. He sprang up as soon as he saw her. He looked as bedraggled as she had been, but somehow made it look sexy. Grace look at the floor and mentally kicked herself. Now was not the time to crush on her friend. He spoke.
"Shit. That looks painful." She interrupted him, holding up a hand.
"I'm fine." She waved him past her towards the bathroom.
"You, on the other hand, really need a shower." Sam turned and she thought for a second he was actually going to do as she asked. Then he turned back, first aid kit in hand. Shame. They'd been getting alone so well until today. He would say it was her fault, of course, chasing after those bloody werewolves. Well, there had been no way she was going to let them escape a second time.
"Come on Grace, at least let me bandage you up." She rolled her eyes and brushed past him. She grabbed some clothes from her bag and waved them at him, wincing slightly at the pain.
"I'm gonna get dressed. And I can deal with these scratches, don't worry."
"Scratches?" Sam strangled a laugh. He narrowed his eyes and gestured towards her shoulder.
"You've been clawed by a werewolf!" he said. His fists clenched and unclenched and a grim look appeared on his face.
"Let me help." He insisted.
"No!" Grace hissed, anger flooding back to her. Who did he think he was?
"I can manage myself."
He stepped forwards and Grace took a step back hitting the wall behind her. Sam's eyes, normally so calm, sparkled with fury.
"You must be kidding. Just like you handled yourself today? You never should have gone after them alone. You're lucky we found you in time." He said. Damn he was hot when he was mad.
"Lucky! It was probably your blundering around that alerted them to my presence." Grace snarled back. Sam towered over her and for the first time Grace realised how physically intimidating he was. She was eye level with his chest, and could just make out the definition of his muscle. Fuck. She tried to move further away but found herself with nowhere to go. Sam's hands slammed down against the wall either side of her head. Suddenly she was very aware that all she had on was a towel. He glared down at her, lips just a few inches from hers. There was a long pause as his eyes burned into hers.
"Sam." She growled, placing both hands on the hard muscle of his chest and futilely pushing. She prayed her towel would not fall.
"Back off." After a tense moment he let her push him back and ran a hand through his scruffy brown hair, not meeting her eyes.
"Sorry." He muttered and stalked into the bathroom. Grace took a deep breath. The shower turned on and she sank down to sit against the wall. Holy shit. For a moment she hadn't been sure if she wanted to kiss him or slap him. She shook her head and forced herself to get up and get dressed. However attractive Sam Winchester might be, if it meant more drama, she wasn't interested.