A/N: I actually studied Jared's face for a bit so I could write the makeout scene in more detail. Remember kids, creeper love is deeper love.
P.S- Here comes the fluff! (Da-dum da-dum!)
"So let me get this straight." I say, my mind reeling. "You," I point at Dean, "Sold your soul to a crossroads demon to bring Sammy boy here back from the dead. You go to hell, get pulled out months slash years later by an angel of the lord. Then, Sam incites the apocalypse, and becomes our good ol' friend Lucifer's vessel. Your unknown-of brother then becomes Michael's vessel, and they're about to duel it out when your angel buddy hops in and Molotov's Michael with holy fire, then you open the pit and Sammy slash Satan jumps into hell."
"That's a good summary, yeah." Sam replies.
Well shit. These guys were actually competent.
"So what's your story?" Dean asks.
"My story?" I reply, anxiously.
"Yeah, we told ours, it's your turn."
Damn. No escape for me then. "Okay, let's get this over with. My boyfriend was a hunter, and I didn't know until a demon killed my family, and we had to run. He told me everything, and I wasn't really too worried- i'd heard weirder confessions- but then I was possessed, I killed him, and Bobby stepped in and was about to kill me, when the demon just left. Bobby cleaned me up, gave me a home until I was back on my feet, trained me up a bit and found I wasn't too bad a hunter. I did archery as a kid so I wasn't exactly a bad shot, and I went to college for a bit so I was able to learn and remember things pretty easily- hence why I can remember all the tricky details about cases. I remember my mistakes."
Sam looks intrigued.
"What were you studying at college?" He asks.
"Psychology. Study of the human mind. It's really fascinating stuff actually, you can teach yourself to remember things, and forget. How to wake up at a certain time without an alarm. That sort of stuff. But there's also some pretty freaky stuff too. Heard of tulpas?"
"Yeah, people's angry sides taking a form of their own through careful meditation, right?" Dean answers and asks in one sweep.
"Yes, that's correct. We had to study one."
"What!" They exclaim in unison.
"I said it was freaky. This guy had been meditating for years, could interact with his tupla on a physical level. He could fight with him and push him away, not just talk to him. But we didn't get to study him for as long as we might have done. One morning he didn't come in. We called his home, but there was no reply. That's when we sent someone around. The door was unlocked and the place was a mess, like a hurricane had swept through. The guy was face-down in the bathtub."
"His tulpa drowned him?" Sam asks astonished.
"We believe so. It could've been a normal homicide, or even suicide, but we just knew him too well. We'd been studying him for months after all."
"Wow, riveting." Dean said sarcastically, rubbing his eyes. "Can we stop all the life-story stuff and start digging for this siren?"
"Sure thang sweetie, where do you wanna look?" I raise my eyebrows at him.
"Any strip clubs connected to the murderers?" He asks.
"Not as far as we know, Bobby's asked me to check one out in town- The Cat's Eye."
"Let's go check it out then." He stands up and stretches, and it's only then that I realise how long we've been sitting there sharing stories.
"Five pm? You want to check out a strip club at five pm? The best you'll find is a pole dancer with a few old guys sitting around paying near-nothing. We'll be better off going later."
"Okay then, what are we gonna do 'til then?" Asks Sam.
Oh I can think of a couple of things, Sammy. "We can hang out here and see if we can hack some information outta these police. Either of you a good hacker?"
"Yup, you got a wireless connection?" Sam replies.
"Yeah, the hotel's free wireless is crap, but I have my own." I pick up a small transmitter/receiver pen drive out of my bag and hand it to him.
"Cool, i'll go get my laptop." Sam stands up to walk down to the car, and when he passes me to walk out the door, I surreptitiously pinch his butt. He turns around and looks at me, surprised, before continuing on out the door to what I see is a glorious 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Just about blows my Thunderbird into the dust. He pulls a leather case from the passenger seat and slams the door shut. I see him pull a packet of mints out of his pocket and pop one into his mouth.
"So what do you want me to do?" I heard from across the room. I hope he didn't notice I was incredibly engrossed with his brother...
"You... You can go get dinner." I say, smirking slightly.
"Are you serious? I'm a top-of-the-range hunter. I've been to hell and back. And you're asking me to get dinner?" Dean asks, incredulous.
"Yup. Deal with it."
"Whatever, i'll be back soon." He replies sulkily. He strides out the door and grabs the keys off Sam as they cross paths.
"Where's he going? And why does he look like a three-year-old who's had his toys taken off him?" Sam asks.
"I told him to go fetch dinner." I laugh.
Sam laughs with me. "He can't stand to not be part of the action."
"I know that feeling, but I hope he doesn't want to be part of this action." I stand on my tip-toes and pull him down towards me by the lapels of his jacket. I'm definitely being a bit forward now, but I don't care. Our lips meet, and I feel the unfamiliar tingle of warmth spread like electricity through my veins. I taste spearmint and lingering coffee. I like it. We break for breath, and I am given a chance to look into his sparkling almost-green eyes.
I like the almost green. It's the colour the fruits turned on my old apple tree just before they were ripe.
"Coffee," He says, laughing. "And strawberry?"
"Mhmm," I hum, giggling a bit. I can't remember the last time I giggled. "Coffee and spearmint?" I reply, the giggle still in my chest.
"Did you see- before? Damn." I laugh with him, and suddenly we're kissing again. He lifts me up, and we're on the bed. He lies atop me, and I feel safe. I can't remember the last time I felt safe. Properly safe. I return his eager kisses with fervour, savouring the moments. I can't even remember the last time I had a moment I wanted to savour. If you don't count sleep. We lie on the bed for what could've been a few seconds, but at the same time could've been a few sunlit days. He rolls off me and lays down beside me, arm wrapped around my waist.
"Wanna go get breakfast together tomorrow?" I ask, a little breathless.
"Only if we go somewhere with waffles." He chuckles lightly.
"Amen." I reply, and roll over to connect my mouth with his again. This is how I want to live. Wrapped up in Sam's arms, stealing kisses. I pull away for a moment, breathe out and go to pull another breath into my lungs when the air flow is blocked my Sam's lips meeting mine again. It's okay. I can breathe through my nose. I could breathe through my nose forever if it meant that this moment could stay here forever. I don't need food or water. It's fine.
I hear the door open and Dean's harsh voice say "I hope you all like cheeseburgers. I just got vanilla shakes for everyone 'cos no-one else came, so no-one else gets to choose."
Sam and I spring apart just as dean walks into the room.
"Find out anything new guys? I talked to some guys down at the- oh." He sets eyes on us, standing on opposite sides of the bed, looking everywhere but at each other. Sam is the first to break ranks.
"Vanilla? You know I hate vanilla. Damnit Dean!" He grabs one bag of food and stits down at the small dining table.
"Whatever," Dean replies. But then he notices. "Nice shade dude."
"Hmphwhad?" Sam says through a mouthful of burger.
"I always thought you were more of a plum guy myself, but the pink's hot too."
Sam swipes at his lips with a napkin and I can tell that he's seen it by the colour his cheeks turn.
"Waddever." He manages to say without spraying beef everywhere. I realise I'm still standing over by the bed, awkwardly waiting for everyone to forget or something. I walk over to the small table and grab a paper bag.
"Mm," I murmur. "I love Vanilla." I take a big slurp and sit down in the comfiest chair I can find that isn't already occupied.