Still wearing the helmet, she made her way outside into the cooling air. Nothing much to see tonight, she reflected. The sun going down. Tomorrow morning, the sun coming up. And so on to another day, not unlike its predecessor and the interminably repetitive ones that had gone before. She tried to think of something else—something that had changed, something that seemed different — if only to keep her mind from atrophying.
whistler allen knocks on my door and takes his shoes off in the hallway. he lights some scented candles and tells me not to worry. he feeds my dog, reorganises my desk, and restocks my fridge. he listens as i tell him my problems and he says that i’m doing fine.
zach sutton smashes through my door with a sledgehammer and steals my cat. he takes all the batteries out of my remote controls and removes the tray from under my pencil sharpener. he replaces the soda with ranch dressing and leaves after scratching all the numbers and symbols off my microwave.
Hie eyebrows knitted together before his features softened and his brows shot up in surprise.
“You’re drunk.” He chuckled, catching you as you fell into his arms.
“So drunk.” Giggling, you stood on your toes and kissed his cheek. “I missed you!” You squealed and smacked his chest.
“I was gone for two hours. How the hell did you get this drunk that fast?” Laughing lightly, he led you to the sofa and laid you down.
You protested and sat up right away. Sam shook his head and sat at the opposite end.
“I know where Dean hides the good shit.” You whispered, unsuccessfully, and fell into a fit of laughter.
“Of course.” He laughed with you, but stopped when your head fell into his lap.
Relaxing, you laid back and looked up into his wide eyes.
“What are you staring at, Sammy?” You reached up and fiddled with a button on his shirt.
“What are you doing?” He adjusted, trying to pull himself away from you.
“I’m laying down. Oh relax, it’s not like my face is in your crotch or anything.” You waved a hand in front of his face.
“Right.” He coughed, averting his eyes from you.
“Unless… that’s what you want?” You brought your bottom lip between your teeth and looked up at him with lust filled eyes.
“I - huh, um… what?” He stammered.
“Do you want me, Sammy?” You righted yourself and sat up, bringing your face close enough to his that he felt your breath ghost over his lips.
He couldn’t speak, so he just moved his head slightly, barely noticeable, but it was a nod.
You crashed your lips into his and swung a leg over his lap, straddling his thighs. His hands gripped your hips and pulled you closer to him. Tangling yourself up with Sam Winchester was all kinds of dangerous, all kinds of risky, and all kinds of fucking sexy. You’d wanted him for so long, and now here you were, sitting in his lap while his tongue danced with yours. It was everything you wanted, and you hoped when the whiskey wore off, you didn’t regret the drunken decision to let your best friend steal your virginity from you.