I hope everybody's had a great New Years!
Alright guys, I hate to be a stickler, but this story is really slacking on reviews, and I really do want to make sure that people are still interested in reading it! Please continue to let me know your thoughts about this creation of mine as y'all were so good at doing at the beginning!
Much love, and enjoy!
Sam shut the door in a surprisingly delicate fashion as he returned from his breakfast errand, having a streak of compassion for his brother bumbling around the motel room and Erica as she still slept soundly.
Heather took the orange he handed her, running her fingers over the rough rind. "And you always have a banana, Sam?"
"Potassium for the running. I'd hate to die from collapsing with a cramp after all this damn hunting." He grinned, then headed to the bathroom for a shower.
Heather finished her fruit, then picked up the newspaper Sam had left on the counter. She opened it up to the middle and leafed through a few pages, glancing at a few of the stock changes.
The elder Winchester padded across the carpet in front of her, knees cracking and hair sticking up every which way. The next page of the paper held the comics, so she read a few of the dorky ones to him, earning that lopsided grin she loved.
Dean in turn sidled up next to her and crept a hand around her waist. "Mornin', Heat." he murmured against her ear.
She closed the newspaper as to give him her full attention, but one of the smaller front headlines caught her eye. "Hang on, Dean." She moved a couple steps away and kept reading.
Lincoln's Law Notes to be Auctioned Off at Estate Sale
Heather scanned the next few lines of the article and her head shot up. "Sam!"
"What?" He rushed out of the bathroom at her urgent call, hair flopping in his eyes. "Something wrong?"
She ignored his question and the inquisitive gaze from the other man beside her. "Did you ever study Abraham Lincoln as a lawyer when you were at Stanford?"
"I, uh…what?" His eyebrows furrowed at her inquiry. "Sure, a few criminal law classes covered him."
"One of my biggest undergraduate papers was about his work in law!" Her hazel eyes were bright with excitement, and the newspaper crinkled under her grip. "And now his 'Notes for a Law Lecture' are gonna be on display right over in Springfield!"
"Whoa." he breathed, interest now thoroughly peaked. He moved to stand beside her and she pointed out a few lines in the article. "That'd be incredible to see!"
By now the commotion had woken up Erica, who sat up and mumbled, "Guys, what the hell are you on and on about?"
"Some stupid law –"
"Handwritten law notes from the Abe Lincoln." Heather interrupted Dean's grumpy interjection. "The wealthiest widow in Illinois passed away a few weeks ago, and tonight is her estate sale. She was apparently in possession of Lincoln's notes and so they'll be there!"
Erica dragged a hand across her face and stretched her long limbs. "You wouldn't be suggesting we detour and go see these notes, now would you?"
"C'mon, E, it's not that far out of our way. It'd just be a one-evening deal! And these notes are kinda special to me and my line of work, you know that."
Sam turned to his brother, intercepting whatever dissent he was about to throw. "Dean, we could use a break, we've been working nonstop for a few weeks."
"Please, Dean?" Heather took her turn with him, voice gentle and almost unbearably sweet. "I really would like to see this in person. I'd like to get something out of our jaunt across the country!"
He barked out a laugh. "And what about all the 'we saved your life' stuff and how we're 'keeping others safe'? For a lawyer, Heat, that argument is crap." He paused to glance at the clock and purposefully avoided his brother's stare, which no doubt would hold the puppy-dog look.
Rolling his eyes, Dean looked at Erica and they shrugged. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad." The latter mused.
Heather high-fived Sam and kissed Dean on the cheek, then grabbed the map so as to plan their slightly alternate route through Springfield before they fully headed for the opal in Cincinnati.
A few minutes later, Erica's concerned voice floated over to her. "Now Heather, what type of dress code are we looking at?"
"Haven't lost an ounce of my touch." Erica proudly declared, brandishing the curling iron like one of her many steel blades.
Heather giggled. "Nice to see you're still dramatic with your cosmetics. Some things never change."
"Well you should consider doing that 'cause we leave in twenty minutes." Sam stood in the bathroom doorway, scrutinizing the women not yet changed into their dresses.
"Lay off, Winchester," Heather retorted, "all in good time."
"Calling me Winchester doesn't really work. There's two of us."
She frowned at his sass and shooed him out of the way as she fished for the soft maroon material of her dress within the depths her duffel. Slipping it on when both boys were turned away, she clasped the top of the zipper before striding toward the fridge for a long drink of water.
As she straightened, there was suddenly a hand at the bottom of her back, resting on the still-undone zipper. She whirled around, met with Dean's explanation even before she could see his face (and make sure he wasn't inspecting her moderately low neckline). "You seemed to forget something." It was hard to ignore how dashing the elder Winchester looked in his suit.
With a small, coy smile playing on her lips, Heather locked eyes with him and proceeded to zip up her dress entirely. "A woman who can't zip her own dress is one incapable of independent life."
Dean scoffed. "Alright Socrates, just trying to help."
Her loose skirt swished slightly above her knees as she bustled away for her shoes and finishing touches of jewelry. Erica had already donned her dress, a lovely green color with lace overlay. Once the women were ready, they followed the suit-clad brothers toward the Impala.
By the time they'd reached the huge mansion housing the estate sale, Heather had redone her updo three times. She slipped one last bobby pin in a blonde flyaway as she slipped out of the passenger seat before Dean came over and gently took her wrist.
"Alright, you've pinned enough, and you look great. Now come on and enjoy these damn notes." He gave her the wink which she now regarded with feigned annoyance. "You dragged us here anyway."
Heather smiled eagerly at Sam and he beamed equally in return. "Are you ready to see Lincoln's real writings? This is huge!" She managed to fall in step with the much taller man as they led the way inside.
Sam held the door open for his three companions and it was then that Heather caught Erica's eye, throwing her a look to remind her of their earlier agreement.
"Yes, Sam and I will be fine at the event tonight."
"Are you sure?" Heather pressed. "I'd rather there not be stony coldness or fiery outbursts to mess up this attempt at a night out."
Erica nodded. "I promise. Think of it as gracefully ignoring each other. We won't cause any problems." She continued nonchalantly, "And you and Dean should be working on keeping your lips to yourselves."
Heather found herself smiling at that last thought, but traded it for a look of soft wonderment as the foursome entered the main hall. It was teeming with life, ladies and gentlemen milling around and surveying the different items for sale or auction, and for once the Winchesters and their companions had no ulterior motive to do otherwise.
This late widow, surname Harrington if Heather remembered correctly, she sure had an exceptional interior decorator; all the best aspects of the rooms were highlighted beautifully.
Pale curtains rested beside the floor-to-ceiling windows. The main marble stairwell was contrasted by a banister of fine dark wood. The ceiling had intricate gold filigree around its edges, and from its center hung a grand crystal chandelier illuminated by candles.
"My god, imagine living here, as your day-to-day house. It's gorgeous." Heather marveled, wide-eyed.
Dean stole a sideways glance at her, then set his jaw. No chick-flick moments.
Erica snapped Heather out of her admiration for a nearby tapestry by brushing a loose hair off her shoulder.
"Thanks, E." the latter said. "Now usually at these types of functions, it's not that hard to find delightful flutes of something bubbly." At that moment a serving waiter walked by with a tray of champagne. "Well, speakin' of the devil."
"We try not to do that." Sam muttered, earning a laugh from the other three. "Now c'mon, Heather, let's go find those notes."
Turns out it wasn't very hard to do so, seeing as there was a large sign in front of the even larger glass case the old, crinkled papers were being held it. Sam and Heather brushed their way to the front, with Dean and Erica flanking behind to see the apparently fascinating artifacts.
"Wow, Sam, look." She released her grip on his elbow, easing closer to read the centuries-old handwriting, filling with a sense of pride at her own profession.
The leading rule for the lawyer is diligence.
These fiends…a moral tone ought to be infused into the profession which should drive such men out of it.
Resolve to be honest in all events.
These were a few of the lines that Heather whispered to herself and that Erica overheard. "Well I know you'll make a damn good lawyer, Heat." The friends grinned at each other.
"Excuse me, son." a frail voice came from behind them. "I came to see what all this fuss is about but I can't really see anything at all."
They turned to find a white-haired gentleman leaning on his cane, and Sam sheepishly realized he'd been blocking the man's view. "I'm so sorry, sir, go right ahead."
The elderly man smiled and nodded, moving forward and squinting at the yellowed papers. "I can't even tell what these are, young man, do you know?"
Sam maneuvered beside him and began explaining the law notes, diving deeper and deeper into conversation with the small-framed fellow.
Erica pulled her phone out of the one and only clutch she owned. "Guys, my dad left a message for me a few minutes ago, I'm going to step outside to return it."
And she was gone before she could hear Sam's barely audible words spoken during a pause in conversation with the elderly man. "Be safe."
Dean turned to Heather, loosening his necktie a bit. "You seen enough of Honest Abe's scribbles, Heat?"
She slowly nodded her assent, taking one last look at the law notes. "Yeah, it was really good to see them. Thanks again, Dean."
He waved off her gratitude with an almost bashful shrug, green eyes twinkling at hazel ones. Heather glanced around the hall, finally noticing the sheer magnitude of objects and items being sold. "Shall we take a look around?" She offered the hunter with a gentle smile. "I think I saw an antique gun collection around here somewhere."
The pair strolled along the outskirts of the room, slowly and in matching steps. "Here we go, that's what I like to see!" Dean gestured to the center of the hall when he caught sight of the various rifles on a roped-off table.
Heather followed his gaze and they began making their way toward the objects of his fascination. They soon encountered a large mass of people heading their direction. As the crowd swept around them swiftly, Heather felt Dean's hand rest on her lower back to steady her.
Not on her bra, not on her ass, but on the curve of her back, as a true gentleman should. He removed his hand a moment later once the waves of people had passed, leaving her strangely craving his gentle fingers and strong palm supporting her.
As they continued walking, Heather took a moment to truly admire the man next to her. Her heels made her almost exactly his height, providing her with a new angle of his face. The supple eyelashes framing the eyes that teased as often as they portrayed anger or worry. The tan skin taut across the strong jawline, with the five o'clock shadow giving him a rougher look that evening. The muscled shoulders that undoubtedly carried more weight than most people encounter in their life, those same shoulders still somehow as relaxed and easy-going as he was charming.
That was as far as Heather made it in her inspection of the specimen that is Dean Winchester before they reached the rifles. They found Erica already standing there, evidently having finished with her family communications and now spending time with her next best talent: guns.
Erica immediately dragged Heather to the rifles, pointing to each one and soon competing with Dean for the most extensive facts about the guns.
"So did you like the notes?"
Sam's voice came from behind and startled Heather for a moment before she replied, "Of course! They were really great to read, especially for this lawyer lady. And I'm sure for you, too, as a former law student." She added.
"Oh, definitely. Doesn't have much bearing for me as a hunter," he took a swig of his champagne, "but still, Abe Lincoln's writings in person. Pretty cool."
"Could ya turn the nerdiness down a bit, Sammy?" Dean said over his shoulder. "You're hurtin' my ears."
Back at the motel, Dean was grumbling about how he was still hot from all the time spent in the suit and the suffocating crowds. He lay on the couch with his shirts discarded haphazardly around the door and his pant legs pushed up to his knees.
"You're all sweaty." Erica informed him. "Take a shower."
"Or better yet, go jump in the pool. At least then we won't have to listen to you whining." Sam put in.
Erica couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face. During their night off from hunting, she'd found herself significantly more relaxed, especially around Sam. His babbling about law was quite endearing and was strangely sad when she had to leave to go check in with her dad.
"Sammy, do you know how dirty that water probably is?" Dean sat up and Heather's eyes drifted to his tanned and toned stomach.
"Since when are you afraid of playing dirty, Dean?" Sam teased.
Heather let out a quick laugh and ruffled Dean's short hair. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his temple.
"It can't be that bad." she said.
"Then you won't mind joining me." Dean retorted.
Heather shrugged and went to her suitcase. She was suddenly thankful Erica had warned her to pack for any situation.
"Will this work?" She held up a high waisted bikini.
"Maybe a little too well." Dean mumbled to himself.
"Y'all have to come too." Heather informed Sam and Erica.
"I think Dean was actually looking forward to alone time with you." Sam attempted to free himself from her command.
"We all need the break." Heather stated adamantly.
Sam sighed and retrieved the old swimming trunks he always toted around in his bags. Erica knew better than to protest; Heather had used that expression on her and many unsuspecting businessmen before.
By the time they made it down to the small enclosed pool, it was nearly midnight. Yet, no one in the group appeared tired. Heather stretched out on a lounge chair, which seemed pointless since there was no chance of her catching a tan in the moonlight, even if there hadn't been a ceiling in the way. Dean settled himself down beside her with his long legs dipped into the excessively blue water. Erica sighed and slipped off her cover-up. She figured she might as well swim since she was dragged here.
She adjusted the strap of her simple white one piece and dove gracefully into the shallow pool. She surfaced and pushed her wavy brown hair back out of her face. She blew water off the tip of her nose and rubbed her eyes clear of the burning chlorine in time to see one Sam Winchester running full speed towards the swimming pool. She had enough time to curse before his cannonball swept her under a grand wave.
"You're an absolute ass." she informed him when he swam over with a juvenile smirk.
"Am I?" he replied lightly.
She pushed his shoulder just under the surface of the water and discovered her hand quite inexplicably trapped against his soft skin. His hand had closed over hers to prevent her from retracting it. She longed to throw a harsh comment at him and put distance between them.
But she couldn't seem to force the words out.
He looked so young with his damp brown hair dripping onto his cheekbones. He had a playful smirk on his lips that was unnervingly similar to ones she'd observed Dean offer Heather.
"I am sorry though, if I've acted like one to you recently."
Erica could imagine it: kissing him right there, falling into a relationship, and their happy little group puttering across the country in the impala. So she finally withdrew her hand because she knew better.
"Me too, Sam."
I also hope y'all have been enjoying the complex interpersonal relationships as they develop! ;)