Author: Lauren.
Rating: Rated T.
Character/Pairing: Serena van der Woodsen, Sam Winchester, Sam/Serena.
Summary: Sam/Serena. 'He reminds her of things she'd do well to forget.'
Disclaimer: Sam belongs to Eric and Serena is Josh/Cecily's. More Cecily's than Josh's though, lets be honest.
Author's Note: Mostly I wrote this because they're a hella lot of pretty together. The height + the looks + the smiles = hawt. Let me know what you think.
She's alone.
Serena is alone and it doesn't happen often except that lately, well she's been preferring it that way. So tonight she blew off Georgina and she ignored Blair's calls and she lied to her Mom and here she is. Endless martinis and guilt welling in her stomach like rot. If anyone who knew her saw Serena van der Woodsen like this, they'd never believe it.
He's alone.
She notices him from across the bar amongst the muted laughter and splashing of alcohol and expensive stilettos scuffing parquet. He reminds her of things she'd do well to forget. Hair, mussed like Nate's but darker than his and eyes, eyes concentrating on the literature in his hands and she admires his absorption.
Twirling a slender hand around the stem of her glass, she gets to her feet, for a second unsteady but she's Serena and she can hold her drink.
"Why so serious?"
She's almost sorry to disturb him. Almost, as his head shoots up and is that a faint blush she can see in his cheeks? And she thought he couldn't get anymore adorable. "May I?" she indicates the seat opposite him and he nods slowly.
She glances around her and he notes she has the uneasy air of someone who's used to be observed.
"Looking for someone?" he asks and she smiles, a flash of white teeth and glossy pink lips.
"Actually, I'm avoiding everyone," she admits, sipping a mouthful and feeling the gin burn on its path down her throat "I think I need some time out."
"Tell me about it," he mutters darkly, and she tilts her head to one side because maybe this boy (pretty like Nate) has secrets too.
"I'm Serena," she offers a hand over the table, surprising even herself that tonight she isn't Savannah or Svetlana or anyone else.
He watches her for a moment and she can practically see the cogs turning over inside his head "Sam."
They talk and laugh and drink and it isn't as complicated as it should be. As she'd expected it to be. It feels good to laugh, really laugh, head thrown back, hair cascading past her shoulders. He was quiet but witty and easy to warm to.
It seems like hours later when they stumble upstairs, knocking long legs against each other, their sniggering echoing along the corridors, her bare petal pink toes scuffing against the carpet. And she doesn't hesitate when she pushes him up against wall and presses her lips to his, only pulling back for a second to gaze up at him, mischief in her huge, navy blue eyes. But his face says nothing about resisting so she swipes her card key, clicks open the door and glances back over her shoulder, beckoning a manicured index finger.
The next morning she's gone before he wakes up. Throwing her clothes on, she stands frozen in the doorway for a moment. Serena and Sam. Really, she wants nothing more than to slip back out of her Sevens, nestle herself in right beside him and order copious amounts of room service.
But she has somewhere to be, and Serena was never the morning after girl anyway. She's not even the minute after girl. So the only thing she leaves him with is a glossy pink kiss on his cheek and the scent of her fruity shampoo in the air.