All Part Of The Game
Two years later
"Sam!" June called. Where was he when he was truly needed? "Emergency in here!"
No reply.
'We should have just stuck to a two-bedroom apartment again,' June grumbled. 'Way too easy to get lost here.'
"Sam! I ain't kidding, it's a second-degree catastrophe in here!"
"Is the kitchen on fire?" Sam appeared in the door, looking not too worried. June and a kitchen seldom equalled anything but second-degree catastrophe.
"Finally, there you are," June let out a relieved sigh. "I can't get this open. Please?"
Sam took the glass of nougat spread from his girlfriend in disbelief. "Not getting this open is a catastrophe?" Without much effort, Sam wrenched it open.
"Totally is. I'm hungry." June stated matter-of-factly. "Thank God I've got a more than well-built hunter boyfriend who can do it for me," She beamed and took the spread back.
Sam shook his head. He was pretty sure what most women would think of when they knew what was the reason behind his muscular shape was that the hands touching them so tenderly kill monsters and dig up graves on a regular basis; not that he was a convenient can-opener.
"You want something to eat, too?" June mumbled between two bites of her sandwich.
"No, thanks," Sam stepped forward and kissed the chocolate from the corner of June's mouth, "I'll take the left-overs."
"I ain't remnants!" June complained.
Sam chuckled and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "How was work?"
"I'm stuffing myself with nougat spread and am busting out the tequila. How do you think it was?" June took a sip of said liquor and dug a spoon into the nougat cream, not wanting to bother with bread to get her boost of happy hormones.
"That well, huh?"
"All I said to my boss was that he could have way more profits if he renovated his dingy gallery or alternatively, moved closer to the city centre. He said I should keep to my own business, upon which I pointed out to him that his gallery was my business seeing as I worked for him-"
"Whoa, whoa, worked, as in past tense?"
"I'm getting there," June held up a chocolaty spoon at him, "Anyways, he told me he couldn't afford neither renovations nor moving. So I hinted that he might have the money if he didn't spend it on vacations with his harem of prostitutes."
"You didn't say harem of prostitutes."
"I did."
"Well, that would explain the past tense of 'working for him'."
"Actually, I quit before he fired me. I like having the last word."
"Yeah, that's your problem, dearest," Sam took the food and tequila out of her hands and set them down on the counter. "You'll just take up your love-hate relationship with the cross trainer tomorrow eating like that."
"It's just a hate relationship," June growled.
"Even the more a reason to stop now."
"Sam Winchester; boyfriend, therapist, personal trainer and nutritionist."
June squealed when he threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the living room. It had a glass front and one could overlook the city; something June and Sam did regularly as they cuddled on the couch and just sat there for hours.
They had moved once June neared her Bachelor degree and wanted to be closer to downtown where all the art galleries were and life bustled about. Sam had teased her about becoming a stuck-up high-society member when she'd fallen in love with this not-quite-so-cheap apartment close to the city centre. June had replied that since she was the breadwinner in this relationship, she was allowed to choose how to spend the money. To which Sam had replied that it was technically still her father's money.
It had ended up in raw sex on the bare floor and them buying the apartment.
"Isn't it a little ridiculous to call me your boyfriend?"
June looked at Sam as he was on top of her, running his hand up her waist as they lay on the couch. "You'd rather be my callboy?"
Sam pinched her side, extracting a squeal from June. "I'm ticklish there!"
"I know. Should teach you not to talk to your 'boyfriend' in that disrespectful way."
June tried to wrestle away from underneath him, which ended up them tumbling down and rolling on the floor. June crawled away, or at least tried to, but was shaking with laughter and therewith made it easy for Sam to pull her back underneath him.
"I love you, my not-boyfriend."
"Unbelievable as it is, I love you, too, my not-girlfriend."
They sat back up and returned to the couch, since it really was more comfortable than the carpet. "Seriously, though, Sam, what are you if not my boyfriend? My live-in boyfriend? Consort? Companion? Mate?"
"Companion sounds like I'm your puppy, mate as if I were part of a breeding programme."
"Comrade? Cohabitant?"
Sam looked at her sceptically. "Did you swallow a thesaurus?"
"Partner? Lover?"
"It's impossible having a productive conversation with you."
"What? I'm offering you tons of possibilities here! What problem is there with boyfriend in the first place?"
"We've been together for more than two years, June."
"More like three, if you count the soulless months."
"That wasn't me."
"But it was when it all started."
"There was no love involved, and we weren't in a relationship."
"Fine. Two years, then. Your point?"
Sam took a deep breath. This was going to be a lengthy discussion and would probably not be solved today. Or this year, for that matter. Quite possibly not even in this life. "Don't you think it'd be time to take it to the next level?"
June almost choked on the air she was breathing. "Um, er…meaning?"
"You know what I mean." Sam said softly, knowing fully well what the topic 'marriage' triggered in June: The urge to run and hide.
"You know I've got commitment issues!"
"Yes, June, you've made that clear often enough. Though, just saying: We've lived together for two years, and don't really see a break-up at the horizon, so if that isn't committing, what is?"
"Ten years of living together?" June threw in hopefully.
"By that time I'll be 40."
"A man's best age," June suggested.
Sam sighed and pulled June into his arms, kissed the top of her head. "I'm not saying it has to be today or tomorrow, June. Just that I'd like seeing a ring on your finger in the nearer future."
"I saw this pretty ring at Bulgari last week-"
"Engagement ring."
"Oh. Right."
"June… I'm not pressuring you, but…"
"I know you're not. And I'm sorry I'm being such a wuss about marriage. It's not that I don't want to spend my life with you, it's just…"
"You don't want to share your millions with me?" Sam smiled and brushed through June's hair.
"Ain't I already?"
"Fair enough."
"I don't know, it's just… damn it, I don't know what it is." June blew out air in frustration. How could she explain to Sam why she was scared of matrimony if she couldn't explain it to herself?
"If all else fails, you'll just have to drag me to Vegas, get me drunk, and then carry me up the aisle to Elvis before I wake from my alcohol-induced stupor."
"You always were a permissive drunk, yes."
June dug her elbow in Sam's stomach, making him 'oof', then she was serious again: "Look, Sam, I know I'm not easy to be with…"
"Understatement."
"… and I don't know why you're putting up with me. I just know that I'm glad you are, and that I don't ever want to lose you. But I… I can't say 'I do'. Not yet, anyways. Maybe not ever." June added for truth's sake; although she was scared of Sam's reaction.
He proved to be exactly the man she'd lived with for the past years, though: The man she loved. "Hey, sweetheart. It's okay. Just be prepared I'll wait you out and continuously nag at you."
"That's new how?"
Sam pinched her ticklish spot again, making June almost jump off the couch.
And all was well in Hollywood.
Well, Boston, but details had never mattered.
June stopped in her dancing abruptly when she felt her phone vibrate. Ignoring her friends' attempts to ask her where she was going, June headed for the exit and pressed 'take call'.
"June?"
"Hey, Sam," June smiled, trying to shut out the hammering of the music in the background.
"Where are you?"
"The White House, having a few shots with Michelle."
"Since when does the first lady listen to club music at full volume?"
"Since when doesn't she?"
"Yeah, sweetheart, pretty sure there aren't any cars passing by the White House that close."
"Damn your hunter hearing, Sam."
"You won't have much of a hearing if you go on listening to that crap."
"Hey! I let you listen to Beethoven, you let me listen to club."
"I don't listen to Beethoven!"
June grinned; she got to him about that every time. "Oh, so sorry, it was Mozart, right."
"Now that we've gone over the two only classic composers you know, can we stop the talk about alleged musical preferences?"
June rolled her eyes. "Geez, aren't you touchy today."
"Now, where are you?"
"Is this the beginning of jealous, controlling over-protectiveness?"
"No, this is healthy worry."
June frowned; some months ago, she'd have bickered on, now she could feel that whatever Sam and Dean were hunting at the moment had her boyfriend worried. Though being tempted to shoot a witty rejoinder, June simply said: "I'm at Club Sansibar with a couple of the girls from college. Sam, is everything-"
"Everything's fine. Just wanted to know you were safe."
"Of course I'm safe. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Downtown clubs aren't exactly known for their-"
"Sam, seriously. Relax. I don't drink anything I didn't get myself-"
"Sure hope nobody's buying you drinks."
"So you are jealous."
"I trust you, June, but not the world around you."
Rolling her eyes again, June replied curtly: "Yeah, fine. But I'm not going to shut myself off at home because I might get run over by a bus."
"That wasn't what I-"
"Yeah, I know. So, now that we've established I'm not on LSD or anything, is there anything else?"
"No," Sam shot back, "Give me a call when you're back home, okay?"
"Yeah, of course."
"Good."
June stared at her phone as the line disconnected. What the hell had that been about?
"June! What are you doing out here?"
"Talking to my boyfriend."
Lydia frowned. "Sounds like approaching jealous possessiveness."
June shook her head, not quite able to not agree with Lydia to some extent. "He just wants to know I'm safe."
"He wants to know you ain't getting some from other guys."
"Lydia, unbelievable as it may sound, I actually am capable of loyalty."
"Yeah, you're right, that does sound unbelievable."
"Look, I am not going to argue with you over my relationship, alright? Let's just get back inside."
"Good idea; by the way, that Latino sex on a stick has been eyeing you all night."
"Did you hear even one word of what I just said?"
"Nope, music too loud."
June rolled her eyes, detached herself from Lydia unnervedly and instead traded dance floor for one of the sitting booths at the side, where Kayla and Izzie sat. The loud, numbing and lulling beat of the music allowed her to push the feeling of uneasiness from her mind. Either, Sam was indeed developing jealous tendencies, or there was something out on Boston's streets that had him worried.
But his hunt was two states over, why would he know about something going on at home…?
June flinched out of her daze when she felt a hand on her thigh.
"Hello, beautiful."
"Couldn't come up with something classier?" June arched her eyebrow distastefully at the undoubtedly attractive man who'd slipped onto the seat beside her. It just sucked for him he couldn't even reach close to Sam.
"I could recite Shakespeare, if that's what you want."
"No, hot shot, that ain't what I want. If I wanted a literature lecture, I'd just ask my boyfriend."
"Tell me what you want, and you'll get it." His lips travelled up her neck.
"How about you take your hands off of me and get going before I do something you might regret?"
"Playing hard to get, that's cute. Though not very classy."
"Okay, then, here goes another attempt at classiness before I pour my drink over your head and give you a kick putting an end to all of your family planning: Get the hell off of me. I've got a boyfriend. Who did some time and is a master at getting away with things. Murder not excluded."
"My, my, you do talk a lot."
"You don't like talking? Fine." June climbed over him, kneeing him hard, and got out of the booth, leaving him writhe in pain. "Bitch!"
"Not very classy," June just said and turned on her heel.
Why was it that so many guys couldn't take a no for a no? June had enough of this place, her mood being royally dimmed and left, her stride varying somewhere between her usual proud step and her annoyed stomping. June probably would have stomped if it wouldn't be so hard to do in five-inch heels.
Mincing to her car, June pulled her phone out of her purse as she pulled her jacket closer around her.
"You home?"
"Hello to you, too."
Sam sighed. "Good evening, dearest. Are you home?"
"Sam, what is it that got you so jagged? Besides, you have picked the one girl to be your girlfriend who can sense monsters before they get close enough to kill her. Relax."
"I didn't say I was worried freaks might come after you."
"No, but everything you said indicates it."
"Just be careful, okay?"
"No, Sam, I'll run right in front of the bus."
"I'm not kidding, June."
"Whatever, we can talk when you get home."
"Call me when you get there."
"Yes, Sam, I got that the first time."
Sam groaned after June had hung up and pressed his fingertips to his forehead.
"Well, Sam, I think you got lucky there." Dean said.
"What?"
"You found the one girl who doesn't like being protected. Well done. Out of the millions of girls, you found the most belligerent, proud and independent one. Good luck with that, you'll need it."
"Gee, thanks for your support."
"Seriously, bro, June'll be fine. Demons lie."
"Not always."
