A/N: 'Samantha' and 'Smith' have just shared a few moments of passion together...
Bought And Sold (Chapter 10: The Truth About Love) by frostygossamer
When finally they fell apart, emotionally elated yet physically exhausted, Samantha sighed and pulled Dean against his broad chest, cradling him close. Dean pressed his face into the big guy's shoulder, momentarily unable to speak. Despite sharing his bed with countless women, Dean had never before experienced the tenderness he felt from this gentle, affection-starved guy.
Eventually he pulled away and chuckled, "You're gonna have to pay for an extra session. We're over time."
Samantha smiled into the top of his head. "Worth it," he murmured.
"Thank you," Dean responded politely.
But inside, Dean knew that they had already crossed that line. This wasn't a working-boy and client thing anymore. This thing they had was turning into something else.
They were falling in love.
"Tell me your name," he said. "Your REAL name. Who are you really?"
Samantha stared at him for a moment, then looked away. "I'm sorry, Smith," he breathed.
Secrecy had become a way of life for him. He got out of bed, grabbed his clothes and, in a couple seconds, he was dressed. He placed Dean's additional payment on the nightstand, though Dean tried to stop him. No need for the guy to get in trouble, Samantha thought. Then, with his hand on the doorknob, he suddenly changed his mind.
Turning toward Dean, he quickly gabbled, "My name is Sam Campbell, from Lawren, Kansas."
Then he slipped out the door and was gone.
All Dean could do was stare dumbly at the closed door.
~o~
Dean knew that falling in love with a client was a big no-no.
Since coming to Plucky's, he had learned to accept his life as a male whore, servicing women of all sorts, old, ugly, twisted, violent, whatever. A backstreet manhouse like his got them all. He had seen and done some nasty things, and had some nasty things done to him. That was part of the job. He had gritted his teeth and gotten down with what he had to do. Had no choice.
There was Samuel, his little son. Only as long as Dean played along would Samuel be safe, they said. The ruthless woman who owned Dean knew where the kid was, knew about Bobby's refuge. He absolutely believed her threats to snatch and off the poor kid if he overstepped the line.
She and her people would get away with it too. They had the police in their pockets.
Dean was screwed from the start.
So he had played along, obeyed their every whim, because he believed he didn't matter. As long as everyone he loved was OK, his own happiness was unimportant.
These were the thoughts that ran through Dean's head as he went about his day, giving his clients whatever they wanted. His body did the work, his brain was never involved, his mind occupied with doubts and fears.
Why it couldn't have stayed that way he didn't know. Because when he met Samantha things had changed. There was someone who cared about him. Someone who made him feel like he mattered, that he was human again. Samantha made him feel alive.
So the kid was really a guy. So what? Dean couldn't find it in him to care about that anymore. He had long since stopped being turned on much by women anyways. Sex with a client was mechanical, nothing more. What he had found with Samantha was special, real. But loving Sam was making it harder and harder for him to put on an act for his clients.
Then he had to go ask Samantha's real name. Why in hell had he done that?
Sam Campbell? Seriously? How could the guy's name be Sam Campbell, of all names? And, no, he could NOT be his brother. Could NOT be. Or could he? Dean knew his luck was pretty god-awful. But, Jeez, even HE couldn't be THAT unlucky.
Oh yeah, he could.
All he had to do was ask the kid a couple questions, then he would know for sure. Or he could pretend like it wasn't true, like it was some goddamn evil coincidence. Because, if it WAS true, what they had done was wrong. He would have to end it. They had made ONE mistake, and it was nobody's fault, if they ended it right away.
If.
But how could he? He was too damn chicken to do the right thing. He was scared, scared that, if he knew, Sam would walk out that door and never come back. Sure he would. How would he do anything else? Dean had no doubt Sam would never want to see him again, and he couldn't bear the thought of being left alone in that hell of a place. Not anymore.
Dean was a coward.
So he wouldn't tell Sam. Just let Sam go on thinking he was 'Smith'. But, when Sam eventually found out, and, with Dean's luck, he was sure to work it out sometime, he was going to hate Dean for not fessing up. Dean was going to lose the only ray of hope he had left.
He was SO screwed.
~o~
Back at school, Samantha, still blissfully unaware of Smith's real identity, was feeling more at peace with her own heart than she had felt in all the years of pretence. She was actually singing to herself in her dorm room that Saturday morning, when her buddy Jessica called by.
"You sound happy," the blonde commented, with a cheerful smile.
Samantha grinned. "I AM happy," she said. "It's a beautiful day, Jess. Feel like life is totally peachy right now."
"Since it's so fine out, why don't we eat in town today," Jess suggested. "We can have lunch at this sweet little French place I found the other day."
"Hmm," agreed Samantha. "Why not? Really need to go clothes shopping anyways. Don't have ANYTHING nice to wear."
She riffled through her clothes closet. Everything in there was drab and plain, chosen not to draw any attention to her body. Ever since Smith had made her see how attractive she really was, shown her how beautiful she was to him, she had felt more confident in her looks. She wanted to show off her physique a little, even if it could only be in a dress.
"Wonderful," agreed Jess. "I'll go get my purse."
~o~
They spent the morning in a series of stores that catered for the larger lady. The kind with the discreet private fitting rooms where Samantha could try things on alone. After a fruitful few hours, they were both hungry and almost fit to drop. Jessica had been awesome, helping Samantha make fashionable choices that flattered her less delicate frame. It wasn't an easy task, but Jess never once made Samantha feel freakish. She reckoned she had found a real friend in Jess.
They eventually wound up at 'La Belle Patisserie', Jess' new favourite eating place. It was quiet and the servery counter was laden with tempting cakes and pastries of all kinds. They took a table near the window.
A few minutes later, the young waiter came and politely took their order.
"So," began Jessica. "What's got you so full of high spirits, hmm?"
"Oh, nothing," Samantha replied hastily. "The gorgeous summer weather, I guess."
Jessica smirked. "If I didn't know you better, sweetie, I'd say there's a new guy in your life."
Samantha inhaled. Was it so obvious? Jessica took that as a yes.
"Ooh," she squeaked. "Do tell me all about him."
Samantha considered. Unlike Ruby, Jessica could be trusted to keep a secret, up to a point. Samantha would never reveal her biggest secret even to her, but if she was vague about Smith...? If wasn't exactly strange for a woman to have a boyfriend.
"It's true," she admitted slowly. "There IS a guy in my life. But, Jess, you mustn't tell ANYONE, particularly not Ruby. Swear?"
Jessica knew exactly what she meant about rumourmonger Ruby.
"I swear. Never tell a living soul. Cross my heart," she answered solemnly. "And especially not Ruby with her big fat mouth," she added with a giggle.
Samantha smiled. "He's a real sweet guy," she began, picturing Smith as she spoke. "Had a real hard life and yet he's so understanding. Gotta respect him so much for that. And he really makes me feel good about myself."
"Do I know him?" Jessica asked, now curious.
Samantha almost laughed at that idea. Jessica was a nice girl. No way would she ever go near a manhouse.
"No," she said, firmly. "Definitely no."
This only made her friend a little more inquisitive. "Can I meet him?" she wondered.
No, no, no! The thought that Jessica and Smith could ever meet filled Samantha with dread.
"Maybe," she lied. "Maybe one day."
Jessica smiled sweetly. "Well, he seems to be doing you good, Samantha. You've been so upbeat lately. Tell me, what's his name, hmm?"
Samantha was about to articulate Smith's name, thinking it would be safe with Jessica. How she longed to be able to discuss her new love with her closest girlfriend like a normal person. But right then their young waiter reappeared at Jess' elbow with their order. He leaned forward right as she leaned toward Samantha and they collided, tipping the cafetière and dribbling a little coffee on the starched white tablecloth.
Jessica nearly had kittens.
"You clumsy, good-for-nothing, mono-x-chromosomal moron," she snapped. "Damn goof-off non-girl. They could train an ape to serve better than some brainless boy. I ought to call your manager and get your dumb male ass kicked right out of here."
The timid boy shrank back, as if he had been burned. Horrified, he began grovelling in tongue-tied apology, afraid for his job.
Samantha was totally taken aback by Jess' female chauvinist diatribe. She withdrew into herself, closing up like a startled clam. Who had she been kidding? Jessica wasn't her real friend, only a friend of the persona she was hiding behind. She might appear soft-hearted and liberal on the outside, but inside she was like every other woman, inured with the femalist sense of superiority. Samantha could no more trust her than she could trust Ruby. At least Ruby was upfront about her sexism.
Having thoroughly humiliated the boy, Jessica laughed at his retreating back. After blatantly checking out his butt, she returned her attention to Samantha.
"You were saying...?" she asked, helping herself to a cup of coffee as if nothing had happened.
Samantha shook her head. "N-nothing," she stuttered. "Nothing at all. Uh, two sugars for me, thanks Jess."
~o~
That evening Samantha returned to her dorm room feeling a little less hopeful for womankind. She dumped her bags on the floor and sat on her bed staring at them forlornly for a long while. Why had she ever thought she could live as one of these people? They would no more accept her, if they knew what she really was, than a pack of hunting dogs would accept a rabbit in their midst. Nothing was ever going to change.
As she sat there feeling low, one of her bags slumped over and a pair of jeans fell out on the floor. Between the dresses, shoes and scarves, Samantha had managed to slip one or two unisex items in with her purchases. Rummaging around, she located a dark blue jersey top that would look passably masculine if she removed the pink lace insert in the V neck and the girly frill on the sleeves. She reached for her scissors.
When she had finished snipping, she stood up and pulled her nondescript dress off over her head. She removed everything but her panties, and there he was again, Sam, broad chest, shoulders and long, strong legs.
Sam slipped into his new jeans and yanked the faux silk shawl, the one Jessica had given him for Christmas, off of his cheval mirror. He pulled the navy shirt on over his head. It clung to his masculine outline like a second skin. He had to admire his image in the glass. He looked the picture of athletic manhood, like something from a woman's beefcake magazine.
He was so busy admiring himself that he failed to hear the door creak open behind him.
As it turns out, Sam's luck wasn't much better than Dean's.
TBC
A/N: Oh dear. Who's come along and caught him out of costume? More soon.