Chrys woke up gently, sensing that the car was slowing. She stayed where she was without opening her eyes for a moment. She couldn't remember where she'd fallen asleep, but she knew that she was warmer and more comforted than she'd been in a long time.
Then she registered the firm chest beneath her cheek, and the strong arms wrapped around her. Her eyes flew open as she sat up, not caring that she almost slammed into Sam's chin. She looked around at where they were, pulling into the parking lot of the motel.
"Why are we here?" she asked, eyeing the room the men had been staying in warily. Dean was still glaring through the windshield, so Chrys ignored him to look back at Sam.
Which was a mistake. His handsome face was inches from hers, and those brown eyes were locked onto hers and short-circuiting her brain. She felt her heart beat faster, and dear Christ were her palms actually getting sweaty?
She concentrated on what he was saying. "We came back to the motel. None of us actually got any sleep once you, uh, found us, so we figured we'd catch a few hours before heading out in the morning."
She frowned, battling the sudden and uncharacteristic shyness she felt as his proximity. "Heading out for what?"
"To find Lucifer."
She stared at him, now in awe. "You're serious."
"Yeah, we're serious," Dean snapped from the front. "Got any better ideas?"
She frowned at him in the rear view, wishing she wasn't sitting in his brother's lap. "Try any other ideas? What are you gonna do when you find him? Ask nicely that he goes back into the cage he's been stuck in since the beginning of time?"
Dean looked away, and she huffed. "That's what I thought. We need to find a way to get rid of him before we find him."
Dean didn't reply, just got out of the car and slammed the door. Leaving her alone with Sam.
You are not a teenager, you are a grown woman, she reminded herself desperately. She turned to look back at him, caught off-guard again by how close he was. You are going to tell him off for bossing you around, and you are going to leave.
"Thank you," came out of her mouth instead. "It's never been that bad before, the pain," she explained softly, "So, you know, thank you. For not being a jerk about it."
He examined her for a minute, and Chrys was truly horrified to feel her face start to get hot. "So, if you were in pain last night, how did you deal before you found me? I mean, I've never met you. You weren't, you know-"
"In pain all the time?" she asked, a bitter smirk on her face. "Yeah, I was. It was mostly headaches, which I could deal with. But there were also some muscle spasms, and some soreness." She frowned. "Hey, around two years ago, did something happen to you? Something out of the ordinary? Extreme?"
He nodded slowly. "I, uh, I died. For a few days."
She blinked, the chuckled. "That would explain it."
"Explain what?"
She smiled sadly. "I went into a coma for six months, Sammy. Just collapsed and didn't wake up."
"Jesus," he breathed, his eyes widening. "I'm sorry, I-"
She put a hand on his chest and looked into his eyes. "Sam, don't start apologizing for the pain I've been in, because if you do, we're gonna be here for a while."
He was looking at her, then looked down at her hand on his chest. She snatched it away, blushing and looking down at her lap. Their closeness was suddenly too much. "Let's get out of the car, Sam," she said softly.
"Uh, yeah, okay, yeah."
Sam was lying awake in his bed, hands folded beneath his head, staring at the ceiling. He'd tried to do the gentlemanly thing and give Chrys the bed, but she had had none of it, just rolling out some blankets on the floor and turning to her side. Much to Sam's irritation, the move had seemed to raise her esteem in Dean's eyes, and he hadn't snapped at her all evening.
Sam was having trouble sleeping. His brother's steady breathing from the other bed normally sent him right into slumber, but tonight was different. Maybe it was because he had just started the apocalypse. Maybe it was because he knew Dean was mad at him. But it was probably because he could tell Chrys was lying awake, too.
He didn't know if he believed her when she said that she was his soulmate, but seeing her unconscious on the ground had made a compelling case. She had been in some serious pain when they'd found her, but the ten minute car ride back to the motel, wrapped in his arms, had seemed to help. She'd barely been limping when they went back into the room.
He was mostly leaning toward believing her, however, because of the pull he felt toward her.
Her hand on his chest seemed to awaken something. He'd wanted to fall upon her, learn all of her body's secrets, make her cry out his name as she came. He'd been shocked by the force of his feelings, and had been grateful when she'd suggested they get out of the car, because he'd been about two seconds from not being able to hide how he was feeling from her.
And now, he was wide awake, listening to her breathing, wishing she was next to him. "Chrys," he whispered.
He watched her stiffen. "What?" she replied, without turning around.
He suddenly felt awkward. "Uh, how are you feeling?"
She sighed. "Fine, Sam. Go to sleep."
"I, uh, I don't think I can."
She groaned and finally turned around. "Great. I'm bound to an insomniac. Things are going to get rough, Sammy. I get mean when I'm tired."
He scoffed. "You're already mean."
She shrugged. "Fair." She met his eyes. "What do you want me to do about it?"
He thought about it for a moment, but he already knew what he wanted. "You could come sleep with me."
She paled. "What?"
He turned and propped himself up on his elbow, turning the blankets back. "Just sleep, nothing else. I, uh," he looked down, embarrassed. "I don't think I can sleep without touching you."
She glared at him. "Tough. I'm not sleeping with you, Sam, Dean will kill me."
He frowned. "Dean won't kill you, it will be fine."
Chrys rolled her eyes. "Sam, he hates me. He would not be thrilled if I was in bed next to his precious, sleeping, baby brother."
Sam bristled, irritated. "He's not completely insane, Chrys, he's just protective."
"Okay, fine. He protectively hates me. Either way, no dice."
He sighed. "Chrys, he's just-"
She held he hands up. "Sam, it's okay. He hates me, and I get it. He can join the club, I hate me, too. But I'm not crawling into that bed with you, so suck it up, buttercup."
Sam frowned, examining her. She looked exhausted. He knew firsthand how tiring being in pain could be, and she had been in a lot of it earlier. He thought of the way she had responded when they found her, how she'd seemed to follow his orders. Dropping his voice lower, he met her eyes. "Chrys."
Her blue eyes widened, and she didn't seem to be breathing. "What?"
"Get over here and get into bed with me."
She seemed to struggle against it for a second, then she slowly got up and walked over to his bed. She was wearing the tank top from earlier and a pair of gym shorts, and Sam didn't see any signs of underwear. Suddenly, he wasn't sure this was a good idea.
But she was already pulling the covers back and slipping in between them, doing her best not to touch him. "There, happy?" she snarled, looking away from him.
"So, what, you've got some sort of submissive thing going on?" The question came out before he could help himself. He fought the arousal starting to heat his blood.
She glared at him. "Have you ever met a less submissive person, Sam? No, I think…" She sighed and groaned, dropping her head back onto the pillow. "I think it has something to do with the bond. Lucifer probably knew I wasn't going to go with you willingly, so he gave you… An out."
His eyebrows raised, and he felt a little guilty. "An out, huh? Okay. Um, well, I'll try not to do it."
She rolled her eyes. "Ten seconds ago you did it to get me into bed. Excuse me if I don't hold my breath."
He flushed, then shook it off. "Chrys, you weren't sleeping, either, so don't act like you don't need it, too." He shifted, and before she could protest, he turned her and pulled her close to him, his chest pressing into her back. She stiffened, and he wrapped his arm around her tightly. "Relax, Chrys. Go to sleep. We'll… Figure everything else out in the morning."
Chrys woke up early the next morning and was immediately irritated at how rested she felt, like sleeping next to him restored her. A long, strong arm was wrapped around her waist, and Sam's face was buried in her hair. She squashed her heart's attempt to flutter and slowly started to extract herself.
Once she was successful, she looked around the room, at the two brothers still sleeping. She took the moment to examine them. Dean was shirtless, the covers tangled around his waist and legs. She looked at his bare chest, his muscled arms and shoulders, and the anti-possession tattoo he sported. He was yummy, no doubt.
But Sam. She didn't know if it was the soulmate thing or what, but Sam was breathtaking. His wide shoulders, his long arms, those hands that looked like they knew what they were doing. His hair was mussed, framing his handsome face and his strong jaw.
Good grief, get it together, she snapped at herself, suddenly turning to find her bag. She pulled a hoodie, her cell phone and headphones, and a pair of tennis shoes out of it. She was going to run this stupid nervous tension out of her system if it killed her.
She knew she couldn't go far, but around the building wouldn't be a problem.
I hope.
Sam woke up and frowned. He was cold, and he shouldn't be. Where is Chrys?
His eyes flew open and he sat up, searching the room quickly for her. When he didn't see her, he stood and pulled his clothes on haphazardly but silently, trying not to disturb Dean.
When he opened the door, his eyes were immediately drawn to her. She was jogging around the parking lot with headphones in, her gaze glued to the ground as she ran.
He took a moment to watch her. Her long, strong legs carried her quickly and easily. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and it swayed as she moved. Her skin was glowing with sweat and health. She was lovely.
And he wanted those legs wrapped around him as she writhed beneath him. He wanted her hair to create a curtain around them when she leaned over him. He wanted her sweating and pleading and moving underneath him. He couldn't think of a time he'd ever been so turned on.
But since he couldn't act on that impulse, he acted on another. "Chrys!" he shouted.
Her music must have not been very loud, because she turned to him immediately. She changed course and jogged toward him. "What are you yelling for?" she asked, stopping next to him and pulling her headphones out.
He glared at her, trying not to watch her breathe. "What the hell are you doing?"
She was starting to get mad, too. "First of all, whatever the hell I want. Second of all, I'm working out some frustration."
"You could have been hurt!"
Her eyebrows went up. "By who? I'm Lucifer's bride, Sam, no one is going to attack me."
"Well, what about people? What if someone tried to take you?"
She looked at him closely. "Sam, I've been taking care of myself for a long time. I'm fine."
He opened his mouth to yell at her more, but was interrupted by her putting her hands in the air. "Look, I'm done, I'm done, I'll come inside."
She brushed by him to walk inside, and Sam tried to convince himself that he wasn't overwhelmed by her scent as she walked by.
It didn't work.
**Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.
