I'm doing the 30 Day OTP Challenge but instead of "Days" I'm going with "Chapters" so here ya go

Holding Hands

"I've done some research and I've found that the ghost is attached to something in that house, or maybe the house itself, and we'll have to find and destroy it before the family gets back from out of town and gets extremely hurt. Considering you and Dean's history, I don't think this'll be too morally corrupting for you."

She spoke softly and happily, looking through her notes with one hand, her other one tapping out some sort of pattern on the tabletop. Her hair was a dark, honey color and long, flowing to the middle of her back, curly and incredibly enticing. He'd met her in college before she quickly graduated, having been accepted sooner than him, despite them being the same age. During that short amount of time, he'd found out she was a witch, born with her powers and fighting against dark magic and dark people. He saw her scars when he'd crashed on her couch one night and she thought he was asleep, taking off her hoodie – well, really, his hoodie, that he never really did get back, come to think of it – to have her tank top rise up a little, showing him the fine lines and the word etched into her arm crudely.

She'd called him to help her with this case, as she was a paranormal investigator – actually, a hunter, although Dean said she wasn't – under the guise of needing his help, although she'd sounded happy and pleased on the phone and not as if she were finally making herself ask for anyone's help. They both knew that she just wanted to see him, but neither felt like acknowledging it, much like Sam with his small infatuation with her.

Really, it was all too easy. All he had to do was reach across the table and grab the hand that was tapping out the rhythm. Just slide over, hover for a moment to have her stop tapping, and then turn her hand over to the side and press his fingers into her palm. Simple. In theory.

"Here's your tea, Miss," a young girl said, sliding the paper cup to her and handing Sam his coffee. He gave a small pout when Hermione's hand took the cup and didn't return to the table.

"Their house is for rent while they're not living in it," Hermione whispered as she hurriedly rushed back to the car, a smiling, plump middle-aged woman on the sidewalk leading to the house, "I panicked and said you were my husband and we were looking for somewhere to stay because we just got married. What's our names?"

"Uhh – Orwell," he answered, making her frown at him dully.

"Is your first name going to be George, too?" she scoffed.

He gave her a small frown and she grinned as the realtor clicked her way up to them, offering Sam her hand.

"Hullo, I'm Serena McCarthage," she stated.

"Hello, I'm William Montague," Sam grinned as Hermione tried not to give him a glare. "This is my wife, Juliette."

"Oh, just like Romeo and Juliet!" Serena happily exclaimed.

"Yes, it's a very funny – " Hermione shot Sam a glare as he looked rather smug " – coincidence. Ahh, may we see the house?"

Serena McCarthage gave them a tour of the house, the two glancing at one another when she told about the history. He really shouldn't have been itching to grab Hermione's hand, inches away from his own, just to see what they felt like if he laced his fingers in between hers. It would help portray the part, right? Newlywed couple, they wouldn't be able to keep their hands off of each other, right? Right. Right?

"Uhm, I think we'll take it," Hermione answered when they came back to the front door, "Can we come in tonight?"

"Of course, of course!" Serena happily exclaimed, "We'll just sign paperwork and – "

"Oh, would you mind sending that to us? We have quite a lot of packing to do, our lease is up tonight, but we'll go out to the car and write you a check," Hermione smiled prettily, charmingly, trying to convince the realtor, her eyes sparkling a different color.

"Oh, well…I suppose, because of the circumstances," she hesitated, probably confused by whatever charm Hermione had used, before smiling brightly, "I'll be by tomorrow afternoon with the papers."

"Brilliant," Hermione grinned back before Sam smiled as well and tugged her to the car, both of them happily talking about the house until they were out of earshot.

"So, I guess we're going to be spending the night in a haunted house?" Sam asked as Hermione sat in the passenger seat of her own car and whispered out different spells and charms, changing the name and bank on the check before scribbling the amount and handing it to Sam for him to sign in a completely different hand than his own.

"Looks like it," she sighed, standing and heading back to the realtor as Sam got in the driver's side, waiting behind the wheel as Hermione got the key, practically dancing her way back to the car.

"We should get a Ouija board. Get some popcorn. It'd be a slumber party."

Hermione snorted from the couch, hair tied up messily, wearing a baggy faded hoodie and some leggings, a thick book in her lap. Sam grinned and sat in the floor in front of her, leaning against the cushion as he watched whatever eighties' movie he'd flicked it to. He heard her shifting, the book being tossed onto the coffee table in front of him, before he felt light, gentle fingers run absentmindedly through his hair. He swallowed hard, tried to remember how to breathe, and forcefully relaxed. "Do you want me to stop?" she asked.

"No," he practically sighed, shutting his eyes, trying not to think of how easy it would be to reach up, take her hand, bring it around and kiss the back of it before playing with her fingers.

She chuckled, weaving her fingers through the strands, "Just don't fall asleep. We've got a ghost to get rid of."

Sam made a noncommittal hum; sighing deeply as her nails lightly grazed his scalp, head tilted back.

"Well, we got out alive, and that's what matters," Hermione said happily, despite the fact that the rain was coming down in sheets and that her car wouldn't start, walking down the deserted road with him, the hoodie sagging around her shoulders, making Sam fidget and begin to offer his jacket again. "I mean, yeah, the house accidentally caught fire, but hey – William and Juliette Montague could've died in it. Great cover story!"

Sam looked past his dripping hair at her and smiled, watching as she danced around puddles and gave little twirls, looking quite happy. She walked along next to him for a few moments, both of them silent from the ordeal, before she reached over and grasped his hand, weaving her fingers in between his, smoothing her thumb over the side of his hand, soft skin moving against rough. She reached up on her toes, tugging on his shoulder to make him lean down a little, and pecked his cheek, blushing as she bit her lower lip when he blinked down at her in surprise. "I've kind of wanted to do this all week."

Sam smiled and released her hand, only to open his jacket and bring her in to his side, not caring that his side was getting wet as she blinked back at him. He kissed the top of her head, smiling brightly. "I have too."

*Throws confetti in the air because we all survived the first chapter. Except that ghost. But it was already dead to begin with.*