"Truth or dare?" Sam asked with a shy grin. He was squirreled away in the prop room with the rest of the tech crew. The drama instructor wouldn't come looking for them anytime soon, she was too busy chewing out the actors for not being off script yet.

"Truth," answered Megan.

Sam's heart thudded. No way in hell was he going to ask her. He looked nervously around the circle of faces. Russell, the only other boy in the group, scooted forward on the box he was sitting on. "I got one."

All eyes turned to him. Except Sam, who was looking at Megan. She was a senior, and he'd been nursing a crush on her for months. She had pale skin and short, curly black hair that framed her round face.

"Who would you take to the couch?" Russell asked boldly.

Sam's heart dropped into his stomach. The couch was legendary. It was the only piece of furniture the school theater had. When it wasn't on stage, it was pushed into the darkened recesses off stage left. Between shows, it held one sole purpose.

Megan looked his direction, her black curls bouncing around her face as she moved. "Sam," she admitted with a shrug.

He was dead. This was a hallucination because he was dead. It had to be.

Russell giggled. "No, I meant from the whole school, not just us."

"Oh," Megan frowned, adjusting her glasses. "I still pick Sam."

Russell's eyebrows shot up, but Sam didn't notice. He was staring, dumbfounded, still convinced he had died and Megan was a vision from the afterlife. There was no other explanation.

Heidi spoke up from across the room. "Sam, truth or dare?"

"Dare," he choked out.

"I dare you to go to the couch with Megan."

Sam swallowed hard as everyone else ooh-ed. "You don't have to," Russell told him. "We all know Megan's kind of scary." Another girl smacked Russell in the arm with a glare.

Dean's voice came to him then, unbidden, teasing him about his upcoming birthday. "Sweet sixteen and never been kissed," he had teased. Sam couldn't tell his brother than he had too kissed a girl, because then he would have to explain who, when, and every other detail. Sam also couldn't bear to admit that one chaste kiss was all he'd ever done.

Before he could even think, Sam felt himself rising to his feet. "I'm fine with it, as long as Megan is." He had no idea how he managed to sound so confident. Megan was looking up at him with a faint, sweet smile. He offered her his outstretched hand.

Somehow they managed to get all the way to the couch without Sam tripping over his own legs. Megan sat down and smiled at him expectantly. He had pins and needles in his extremities, but he took his place beside her.

"You've never been back here before," she said gently.

"Not with-" his voice had come out too high, almost a squeak. He cleared his throat. "Not like this."

She moved closer, her fingers moving over the back of his hand. "That's sweet." She didn't make it sound condescending. "Did you really want to do this, or were you just being nice in front of Russell?"

"What?" His jaw dropped. "Of course I do! Forget Russell."

Relief washed over her features. "Good." She turned his hand over and intertwined their fingers. "Cause I really wanted to get you back here."

Sam's eyes betrayed him, his gaze drifting to her mouth, which she took as invitation. Sliding sideways onto his lap, she brought her lips to his.

He was reeling. She slid her hands behind his head as she kissed him, gently but urgently. He had imagined this a hundred times, but the real thing was so much better. The weight of her on his legs grounded him in reality. It was all he could do to try to keep up with her. Sam raised both hands to her head, cautiously running his palms over her springy, dark curls. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and he gasped, accidentally tugging a handful of her hair.

Megan pulled back just far enough to look at him. "Was that okay?" He nodded frantically, wrapping his hands around her shoulders. "I really like you, Sam," she told him, before diving back in. His brain started to overload as she rubbed her hip against him.

Carefully, he moved his hand from her shoulder, down over her collarbone, until he was almost to her breast. She placed her fingers over his and slid his hand down that last inch. They both gasped.

Their mouths broke apart. "Sam, you ever gone this far?" He shook his head without thinking. "Do you like me?" He nodded. She kissed him again.

It was his turn to pull back. "I've liked you since my first day here," he whispered, his fingers kneading her soft flesh. "You're so pretty, and funny."

She grabbed him by the wrist and shoved his hand under her top. "Yeah?"

He nodded again. His fingers slid up over the soft roundness of her stomach until he reached her bra. "You're the smartest girl I know. I like the way you laugh." She urged his hand under the lace fabric as she continued grinding against him. He stumbled for more words. "You look cute in those glasses."

Sam had reached the promised land, and it was better than he could have dreamed. Not only was he finally at first base, it was with Megan. She was perfect. It was all too much. Suddenly he was coming in his pants with a choked-off groan. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, his cheeks burning as he shuddered and twitched.

Megan stoked his face with one hand, finally pulling his chin up so she could look at him. "Wow, Sam, you really like me." She looked bewildered.

He frowned, his chest still heaving. "Of course I do. I told you." His life was over anyway, might as well put a flower on his grave.

She kissed him again, then looked into his eyes. "Want to be my boyfriend?"

He blinked in surprise, then a smile spread across his face. "Yeah, I would."

"Okay." she was beaming too. "You should sneak out of here, go home. I'll cover for you." He didn't move, just kept grinning. Megan leaned in for one more kiss. "See you tomorrow, boyfriend."

As he walked home, Sam was in such good spirits that he wasn't embarrassed about his damp boxers. Not that anyone would notice, but he felt like it was a badge of honor he carried with pride. He unlocked the motel door to find Dean sitting on one of the beds, cleaning a shotgun. "Hey little brother! You're home early."

Sam shrugged. He spotted the bag with his clean laundry and unzipped it to find a change of clothes.

"What are you grinning for?" Dean teased, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Looking up from his bag, Sam met his brother's gaze. "I have a girlfriend."

"No shit!" Dean smiled proudly, and he set down the gun to give Sam his full attention. "Tell me everything."