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11:52
.
Sam's body cools, the sweat drying on his skin. He is sated, tired, but he cannot seem to calm down entirely; his heartbeat is still unsteady. Jess is a warm presence against his side, her hand resting gently on his chest. She's already asleep, a small smile adorning her features. She is beautiful.
The red light of the digital clock cuts through the dark room. Eight minutes left of Jess' birthday. Sam thinks he's made it good.
(Nothing is missing.)
.
11:53
.
He woke her up with breakfast in bed. She smiled and shoved at him, called him silly. And then she smiled some more.
He had gone all out, too. Eggs and bacon. Pancakes with Nutella instead of syrup, because she loves that. (They usually never have Nutella. They're trying to lead a healthy life, after all.) Sliced and diced fruit. Orange juice and coffee with an unreasonable amount of soy milk.
And a flower, of course. A single red rose.
Sam doesn't know, has no ground for comparison, but he's quite sure. This is it. Jess is the one.
Sam loves her.
Sam's heart flutters.
.
11:54
.
He walked her to class. She pressed against his side and let him wrap his arm around her small frame, trying to shield her from the chilly January wind.
He missed one of his own classes, too, to spend an extra twenty minutes with her. But it doesn't matter. He's a hard worker, and he'll catch up in no time. Time, on the other hand, cannot be caught up on.
No, time tends to run. Sam's done that.
Not any more. Never again.
But Sam's heart beats as though he's only just stopped.
.
11:55
.
He took her out for an early dinner. She dressed up prettily, even if it was really too cold out for the dress. But she just beamed at him, and he knows she knows how much he likes her in dresses. It wasn't fair; this day was supposed to be about only her. He wanted to make her happy.
They went to the little Italian place, a proper restaurant. It is small and slightly dark and expensive. But it is also romantic, with candles and live music and waiters who smiled at them, as though they thought he was going to propose.
Some day, Sam is going to propose.
Sam thinks he'll propose to Jess soon.
Sam's heart squeezes.
.
11:56
.
He sat behind her in the bathtub, his big frame only fitting because hers is so small. She laughed at him when he tried to settle, splashed water over his knees and pushed her body closer.
He had lit candles in the bathroom, a myriad of little flames to light the night. He ran his hands over her body, with the wash cloth and without, and allowed himself to get lost in their kisses.
Sam never wants to kiss another woman.
Jess is Sam's everything. Jess is all he has got.
Sam's heart aches.
.
11:57
.
They tumbled to the bedroom, a tangled mess of limbs only half dry. She pulled him over her, though he is too big and too heavy for that. She let him shield her, almost smother her, if only for a moment, instinctively knowing that he wants nothing more than to protect her with his body.
He moved his weight of off her quickly, but his hands stayed on her for hours. They explored and caressed; he worshipped her as he has never worshipped anything before. As he has never been able to, since his life has been all demons and nothing of the divine.
(Jess whispered that she's off her pills.) They made love for hours.
Sam's heart is trying to escape his chest.
.
11:58
.
It feels like the perfect birthday. A birthday like Sam's never had.
His heart is still beating hard, forcing a lump into his throat.
A perfect birthday. A birthday like Dean's never had.
Sam's tears are silent.
.
.
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