Fic: Go on and kiss the girl
Go on and kiss the girl
Genre: Het
Length: About 3800 words
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, OFC
Synopsis: A few years ago, several of us plotted out an entire alternate season 12, which would take place on a boat. Go take a look, it is marvelous. (Oh, all those missing friends; it makes me sad.) Anyway. I wrote one of the stories I pitched, though I changed it due to the original idea being a little too noncon. So here's Sam and Dean and a mysterious woman they find at sea...
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Sam's the one who spots her. They're sitting on the deck drinking beer, and Dean's not necessarily watching the sun set over the ocean, because he's not that kind of person, even after a month of aimlessly drifting around the Gulf of Mexico on a borrowed boat. But he's not exactly ignoring it either. Sam, on the other hand, seems totally into this gazing-into-the-sunset business, until he suddenly stands up, thrusts his bottle into Dean's hand, and walks to the edge of the deck.
"You see that?"
"See what?"
"Shit!" Sam grabs the top of the rail and vaults right off the boat, swimming with long, even strokes toward something floating in the water. Crap, it's a person. A woman. Sam hooks an arm around her and hauls her back to the boat, where Dean lifts her onto the small sunbathing deck.
She's unconscious. And completely naked. She's young, mid-twenties maybe, lean and muscled like a swimmer. At first glance it looks like she has seaweed entangled in her long platinum blonde hair, but it's actually her hair itself, with highlights of green and purple twisting through that give it an iridescent mother-of-pearl sheen. Peeking through her hair is the soft pink shell of her ear, decorated with a quartet of small pearl earrings. Another pearl nestles in her navel. A pastel tattoo climbs up the outside of one pale leg, the barely-noticeable undulating pattern inked in ghostly shades of lavender and aquamarine.
Sam pulls himself onto the sunbathing deck and kneels over her, saltwater dripping from his hair onto her fair skin. He presses his fingertips against her throat. "She's breathing. Strong heartbeat."
"Where did she come from?"
"I don't know," Sam says, frowning in confusion. "She was just floating out there." He stands up and scans the horizon. "I didn't see any debris, or a lifeboat, or anything. Just her." He bends down to gather her in his arms. "Let's get her inside somewhere."
Sam's cabin is the one with a single queen-size bed (stupid rock-paper-scissors), so that's where they take her, lowering her gently onto the mattress. Dean lifts her slightly so Sam can slip one of his t-shirts over her head. Her skin is cool and silky against his fingers. Sam digs out a pair of clean swim trunks, hesitates self-consciously, then covers her with a blanket and places the trunks on the bed next to her. He stows the few things he'd actually unpacked back into his duffel. There doesn't seem to be anything else they can do for her, so they quietly close the door and Sam drops his bag on the second twin bed in Dean's cabin (seriously, stupid fucking rock-paper-scissors; never again).
"What now?" Dean asks.
Sam contemplates the door of his former cabin. "Leave her for now, I guess. It'll be completely dark soon, and neither of us is experienced enough to sail this thing at night, so we should stay put. We can head back to shore in the morning."
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Dean wakes just before dawn, silently climbing out of bed and slipping out of the cabin without waking Sam. He opens the door to the larger cabin, just a crack. Their mystery girl has changed positions and is curled on her side, looking more asleep than unconscious. That's a good sign. He gently closes the door with a quiet snick and slips into the small galley. A few minutes later he's sipping coffee on the deck, watching the horizon slowly turn fiery shades of pink and orange.
The faint click of a door opening and closing announces that Sam is up. Dean refills his own coffee and pours one for Sam, setting it by his chair. But by the time he finishes his second cup, his brother hasn't made an appearance. And it's not necessarily anything to worry about, but, well. Dean is Dean, so he's going to investigate. He opens the door of their tiny cabin and stops, stunned, his senses assaulted by an eyeful of naked back half-covered with a spill of mother-of-pearl hair, perfect heart-shaped ass, and a quick flash of a tramp stamp that looks like a… no, that can't possibly be right. And suddenly the tattoo is framed by a pair of huge hands gripping a narrow waist and oh, Christ, it's Sam's hands, she's riding Sam cowgirl-style, and Dean has never noped back out of a door so quickly in his life.
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The sun is fully up by the time Sam makes his way above deck. Without a word, he plops into the chair next to Dean's and takes a swallow of lukewarm coffee.
"Sleep well?" Dean asks.
Sam stares at the horizon. "Yep."
"Wake well?"
"Yeah." Sam smiles into his mug, not meeting Dean's eyes. "Yeah, I did."
"And I take it Aqua Woman is feeling better."
"Seems to be." Sam's lip twitches and he does not have the courtesy to look even the tiniest bit ashamed.
"Exactly how good does she feel, Sam?"
Sam grins. Big. "Pretty damn good, actually."
They're interrupted when Aqua Woman herself appears on the steps. She's wearing Sam's t-shirt, and maybe his swim trunks underneath - it’s impossible to tell, because the shirt is huge on her, slipping off her shoulder and reaching almost to her knees. She walks gracefully toward Dean, and the longer he soaks up her full lips, wide blue-green eyes, and thick dark lashes, the more he's convinced she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.
"Hello," she smiles. "I'm Alana." She holds out a hand and it's cool and soft, like her voice.
"Dean. I see you've already met my brother Sam."
"Yes, I have." She turns to flash a blinding smile at Sam and then slips her hand from Dean's grasp, resting it on his shoulder. "Thank you both for rescuing me. I would have been lost without you."
"No problem, sweetheart." He gives her his most seductive grin. Just making sure she knows what a mistake she made by picking the wrong brother; not trying to lure her away from Sam or anything.
Although. There really is something about her. Something kinda perfect.
"It'll take us a couple of hours to get you back to shore so you can get checked out at a hospital," Sam says. "Are you feeling okay? Do you remember anything? How did you get out here?" Asking all the questions now, since apparently they weren't talking much earlier.
She bites her lip, and Dean desperately wants to feel those perfect white teeth nibbling on his own lip. And other parts of him as well. "Do we have to go back to shore?" she says. "I'm really fine. And there's nothing for me there. I'd rather stay here with you."
Sam meets Dean's eyes and he's all furrowed brow and tight lips and something's not right here, and Dean knows what he's going to say, but Alana steps over to him and lightly plants a kiss on his cheek. "Please let me stay here with you," she says softly.
Sam's face softens into a dopey grin and he says exactly what Dean is thinking. "Of course. You should stay here with us."
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They spend the rest of the morning doing nothing. Alana doesn't explain how she ended up in the water, but it doesn't matter. She's safe on their boat now; everything's fine. Everything's fine. She sits on Sam's lap and drinks his coffee and plays with his hair while Dean tries not to imagine her soft nimble fingers running through his own hair, she leans over the railing to watch the fish gliding alongside the boat and it turns out she is wearing the swim trunks Sam left her, rolled up high on her legs and riding low on her hips, and finally Dean decides he needs to go below deck and take a not-particularly-warm shower.
Everything's fine.
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When he comes back up, Sam's in the big fishing chair, facing away from him, and oh, for fuck's sake, they're at it again. Alana is straddling him, head thrown back, slender fingers twisted in his hair, moaning, and Dean desperately needs to step away but he's frozen to his spot - and then she opens those huge blue-green eyes and fucking winks at him.
Dean probably needs to hang out in his cabin for a while. Everything's fine.
Lying on his bed, it occurs to him that she never did answer the question of where she came from, or why she was in the middle of the ocean, unconscious. It didn't seem important enough to pursue at the time. But now it seems important. He should go up and ask her again. Yeah, he'll do that.
~ ~ ~ ><> ><> ><> ~ ~ ~ ><> ><> ><> ~ ~ ~
By the time Dean's brave enough to get above deck again, Sam's alone.
"Where's Aqua Woman?"
Sam rolls his eyes. "Alana is sunbathing."
Damn. Topless, probably. If he stretches just a tiny bit, he can see the sunbathing deck and yep, there she is, lying on her stomach, completely nude. Dean swallows. And tries to think about what was bothering him so much earlier. Something about Alana… something Sam probably doesn't want to hear. He can't really remember. He's too distracted by something else he wants to talk about. And there really is no way to say your girl oughta be banging me instead without sounding kind of churlish.
"You know what you're getting into?"
Oooh. Sam's face suggests this wasn't a good opening. "Yeah, Dean, I think I can handle it."
"Not exactly your type, is she?"
"In what way?"
"Come on, dude, the bad girls are my type."
"Bad girl?"
"Yes, a bad girl. You go for librarians and I go for bad girls, and this one is a naughty girl, Sammy. I mean, she's got a 69 for a tramp stamp, for fuck's sake."
"Okay. One, have you forgotten Ruby?"
(Yeah, she was a very bad girl; Dean's got to give him that.)
"Two, don't call it a tramp stamp; that's douchey even for you. And three, it's not a 69, it's her zodiac symbol."
"You're telling me there's a sign of the zodiac that's symbolized by a 69?"
"It's not a 69; it's on its side. It's Cancer."
"All right, but I swear, she winked at me while you two were hunting for Moby Dick."
"I don't care."
"Hey, I'm just saying, she may be regretting her life choices at this point. Did she say anything about me?"
If Sam rolls his eyes any harder, they're going to roll right out of his head. "What, you mean, while she was having sex with me, did she mention you? Sure. Absolutely. She climbed on top of me and then said hey, I like your brother too; why don't you call him over here and we'll have a threesome."
"Seriously?"
"No, you idiot."
"Because if she did… you know… I would be… if she was interested…"
"Dean. No, she did not say that. And even if she was interested in a threesome with you and me, I'm not."
"Oh. Yeah." Dean rubs the back of his head. "Wasn't thinking about the you and me part of that."
"Obviously."
"So… did she say anything about me when she wasn't having sex with you?" But Sam's giving him the are you shitting me? face and maybe he's got a point. "Yeah, you're right. This is an awkward conversation."
"Yes, it is. Let's stop having it. Please." Sam turns and walks away, probably heading for the sunbathing deck, probably to sit next to her and rub sunscreen over all of that smooth sun-warmed naked skin and… dammit all to hell.
Dean stomps below deck again, and halfway down the stairs realizes he had a completely different conversation from the one he meant to have.
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That afternoon he stands beside Sam at the railing and they watch Alana swim, if you can call it that. Because she doesn't just swim like a normal person. She's literally cavorting naked with dolphins, laughing and splashing with them like some kind of fairy tale creature.
"For someone who spends so much time naked in the sun," Dean says, "she sure is pale."
Beautiful pale Alana waves, then tumbles and twists out of sight, swimming to the other side of the boat. Sam’s forehead folds into puzzled creases as stares silently at the Alana-free waves.
"She doesn't have any body hair," he eventually says. True, Dean noticed the Brazilian when Sam dragged her out of the water, but he's kind of surprised his brother would consider that an appropriate topic of conversation. But before he can respond, Sam continues. "So maybe she's a competitive swimmer. Something long distance. Do swimmers shave their arms? Or wax, maybe? She'd be stubbly by now if she shaved her arms and legs," he muses. "Anyway. Maybe that's why she's out here."
"We should ask her about that. We should really, really ask her about that."
"Yeah… I just keep getting distracted."
"No shit."
Sam smiles. "You know, I didn't approach her. I just woke up and she was standing next to the bed."
"You complaining?" Dean asks, with a raised eyebrow.
"No. No, God no. It's… she's amazing. It's just…"
"Inexplicable?" Dean offers. "Inconceivable? Incomprehensible?"
Sam turns to him with a surprised frown. "Unexpected."
Dean shrugs. "Beautiful naked woman shows up out of nowhere and, of the two of us, latches onto you? I'm going with incomprehensible."
Sam can bitchface all he wants at that one; it's the God's honest truth. But he isn't bitchfacing. Alana is back in view, and he's staring at a flash of long leg and full breasts bobbing in the water, and there's that dreamy expression again, and oh, fuck this. Dean needs to go read a book or something. He turns on his heel and heads back to his cabin.
"And another thing," he calls over his shoulder as he heads below deck. "You two obviously don't need separate beds. I'm moving your shit back into your room."
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Dean's alone in his cabin when he wakes up the next morning, but he doesn't have to wonder where Sam is. The walls on this boat are not particularly thick and he can hear murmurs next door. Laughter. Other things. And okay, maybe it's payback for all the times he brought a girl back to whatever shack they were hunkered down in, but Jesus. Sam always had the ability to at least take a walk and get away from it. All Dean can do is lie here and listen. Finally it occurs to him that this is a safe time to venture above deck, so he makes coffee and enjoys the breeze and the solitude.
When Sam and Alana emerge - him in swim trunks, her in another of Sam's t-shirts - Sam heads toward Dean. Alana pouts prettily and takes his hand. "Swim with me, Sam. You promised." He shrugs apologetically at Dean and lets her lead him to the sunbathing deck, where she pulls the t-shirt over her head and jumps naked into the water. Sam jumps in after her, still wearing his trunks, thank you baby Jesus.
Swimming was rarely a form of entertainment for Dean when they were young, not anything he normally did for fun or relaxation. Swimming was something he usually did with a monster in his sights and a blade clutched in his teeth. But Sam was always thrilled when there was a pool at their motel or crappy apartment complex, or a pond at their cabin or ancient farmhouse. He took to any body of water like a fish, dutifully swimming laps when Dad was around, playing like an otter when he wasn't, nose and shoulders constantly peeling from layer upon layer of sunburn. And now he's splashing with Alana like one of her goddamn dolphins and okay, he deserves this. It would be petty for Dean to resent it. It really would. He keeps repeating that to himself as he watches Sam and Alana frolic (there is no other word for it, they're fucking frolicking) in the water. And then as they climb onto the sunbathing deck and dangle their legs over the edge, with eyes only for each other. And as they come back onto the deck and Alana hops onto the rail, still as naked as the day she was born, shimmering in the sunlight.
Dean tries hard not to stare at her. She doesn't seem to care. She wears her nudity casually, as if a shirt were as optional as a hat or a necklace. But it still seems impolite, and Dean is nothing if not polite around beautiful naked women. He settles for grabbing quick glimpses when she's not looking. Which turns out to be pretty easy, since she spends most of her time staring at Sam. Right now she's pretending to be interested in whatever boring story he's telling her, something about almost falling overboard on their first day on the boat, whatever; it's hard to pay attention when she's right there, beautiful and wet and naked and happy, throwing her head back and laughing at Sam's stupid story.
"I remember that!" she says. "You were so funny. I was afraid I might have to come rescue you."
Sam stops, brow furrowed in confusion. "What? What do you mean, you remember?"
"Oh." Alana looks away and bites her pretty lip with her pretty teeth, then shrugs. "I have a confession to make. I've actually been watching you for a while."
Sam's alarm goes off first, because by the time Dean parses that conversation, his brother has stepped back from Alana and is already in hunter mode - narrowed eyes, defensive posture, a quick glance to confirm Dean's location.
"What are you?" he says.
Instead of answering, Alana strokes a finger down the faint tattoo on her leg and it darkens, deepening from lavender and aquamarine into purple and teal. The color spreads over her leg, then across both legs, and as Dean gapes in disbelief, her legs meld and extend into an iridescently-scaled tail. "Jesus Christ," he breathes. She's a goddamn mermaid? Suddenly, everything makes sense.
"Did you put a spell on him?" he yells, waving at Sam, who looks completely bewildered. "Is that why he can't think straight when you're around?"
"Of course not. I'm not a siren," she says, with a pretty little frown. "I don't take anybody against their will. I don't have to trick anyone into my bed." She turns to Sam and smiles warmly. "I'm just very enchanting. Difficult to resist. Sorry."
"Not complaining," Sam says.
"Good." She holds out a hand, beckoning him closer. "All I want is to make you happy. I've been watching you for weeks, Sam, ever since you arrived in my part of the sea, and I've grown to love you more every day." Sam's at her side now, holding her hand, looking at her like she's his everything. "And now we don't ever have to part."
"But I… this…" Sam stammers and falls silent, staring into her eyes.
"Come with me, Sam. Join me in my world. I know what your life is like, above the waves. I know it's cold and cruel and dangerous. You don't have to live that way any more. You can come live in peace, under the sea with me."
"Wait. No." Dean turns frantically to Sam, who isn't saying no. "Dude. You can't live underwater!" (Although what he really means is you can't abandon me. Please.)
"Of course he can." Alana doesn't look at Dean, her gaze still locked on Sam's dreamy smile. "Anyone who pledges their eternal troth to a mermaid can be granted the ability to breathe underwater, as we do. Will you, Sam? Will you come with me?"
Sam clasps Alana's tiny hand in both of his and her tail (her tail, she has a fucking tail) curls gently around his legs and oh, God, Dean can't watch, can't say goodbye, not like this. But he can't blame Sam for wanting to leave the pain of this life behind him, to escape to a world where he's not a hunter, to love someone again. He's not going to stop him. He's not.
But Dean goes weak-kneed in relief as Sam shakes his head. "I can't, Alana. This job we do, it's too important. I'm taking a break, but I have to get back to it. And I don't want to leave my brother behind."
Alana sighs a small, pretty little sigh. "I understand." She cups his face in her hands and pulls him down for a kiss. "I'll be here if you ever change your mind." Then, with a wink at Dean, she flips gracefully backward and plunges into the water. He gets one last glimpse of pale skin and iridescent tail, and then she dives out of sight.
The brothers stand at the rail in shock, staring at the empty surface, until Dean breaks the silence.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good," Sam sighs. He turns around to lean against the rail, facing away from the water. "I mean, she's great, she really is. But that whole thing, just. Not a long-term situation. No. I'm good."
"Good." The feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of Dean's stomach finally pulls up its anchor and drifts away. Everything's fine. Weird, but fine. Which is about as good as it gets for them.
"So, uh, I guess she was your type after all," he says. Sam frowns at him. "Because she's a -"
"I know what she is, Dean."
"Yeah. So. Cancer, huh?"
"Uh huh."
"I'd have guessed Pisces. I mean, Cancer, the crab, sure, that works too. Just seems like she'd be a Pisces. Because she's a - "
"I know."
"You're not gonna let me say it, are you?"
Sam rubs a hand down his face with a sigh. "Fine. Go ahead."
"Because she's a mermaid! Because you fucked a mermaid! Because Sam. Winchester. Fucked. A mermaid!"
Sam's glare suddenly turns into a grin. "And you're so jealous, you can hardly stand it."
Dean's thrown. "You're jealous." Dammit.
Sam laughs at Dean's lame attempt at a comeback, which is hardly fair. It's been a stressful day. "Got it out of your system?"
"Are you kidding? I am never, ever going to get the fact that you fucked a mermaid out of my system. I mean, you've had some inhuman girlfriends in your life, but this one's my absolute favorite."
"Well, save it." Sam turns and heads down the stairs. "I'm going to take a very long nap."
"I hope she didn't give you crabs, Prince Eric," Dean yells at Sam's retreating back.
Yeah, he's going to enjoy this for a while.
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(The title, of course, is from "Kiss the Girl" from the movie The Little Mermaid.)
Genre: Het
Length: About 3800 words
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, OFC
Synopsis: A few years ago, several of us plotted out an entire alternate season 12, which would take place on a boat. Go take a look, it is marvelous. (Oh, all those missing friends; it makes me sad.) Anyway. I wrote one of the stories I pitched, though I changed it due to the original idea being a little too noncon. So here's Sam and Dean and a mysterious woman they find at sea...
~ ~ ~ ><> ><> ><> ~ ~ ~ ><> ><> ><> ~ ~ ~
Sam's the one who spots her. They're sitting on the deck drinking beer, and Dean's not necessarily watching the sun set over the ocean, because he's not that kind of person, even after a month of aimlessly drifting around the Gulf of Mexico on a borrowed boat. But he's not exactly ignoring it either. Sam, on the other hand, seems totally into this gazing-into-the-sunset business, until he suddenly stands up, thrusts his bottle into Dean's hand, and walks to the edge of the deck.
"You see that?"
"See what?"
"Shit!" Sam grabs the top of the rail and vaults right off the boat, swimming with long, even strokes toward something floating in the water. Crap, it's a person. A woman. Sam hooks an arm around her and hauls her back to the boat, where Dean lifts her onto the small sunbathing deck.
She's unconscious. And completely naked. She's young, mid-twenties maybe, lean and muscled like a swimmer. At first glance it looks like she has seaweed entangled in her long platinum blonde hair, but it's actually her hair itself, with highlights of green and purple twisting through that give it an iridescent mother-of-pearl sheen. Peeking through her hair is the soft pink shell of her ear, decorated with a quartet of small pearl earrings. Another pearl nestles in her navel. A pastel tattoo climbs up the outside of one pale leg, the barely-noticeable undulating pattern inked in ghostly shades of lavender and aquamarine.
Sam pulls himself onto the sunbathing deck and kneels over her, saltwater dripping from his hair onto her fair skin. He presses his fingertips against her throat. "She's breathing. Strong heartbeat."
"Where did she come from?"
"I don't know," Sam says, frowning in confusion. "She was just floating out there." He stands up and scans the horizon. "I didn't see any debris, or a lifeboat, or anything. Just her." He bends down to gather her in his arms. "Let's get her inside somewhere."
Sam's cabin is the one with a single queen-size bed (stupid rock-paper-scissors), so that's where they take her, lowering her gently onto the mattress. Dean lifts her slightly so Sam can slip one of his t-shirts over her head. Her skin is cool and silky against his fingers. Sam digs out a pair of clean swim trunks, hesitates self-consciously, then covers her with a blanket and places the trunks on the bed next to her. He stows the few things he'd actually unpacked back into his duffel. There doesn't seem to be anything else they can do for her, so they quietly close the door and Sam drops his bag on the second twin bed in Dean's cabin (seriously, stupid fucking rock-paper-scissors; never again).
"What now?" Dean asks.
Sam contemplates the door of his former cabin. "Leave her for now, I guess. It'll be completely dark soon, and neither of us is experienced enough to sail this thing at night, so we should stay put. We can head back to shore in the morning."
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Dean wakes just before dawn, silently climbing out of bed and slipping out of the cabin without waking Sam. He opens the door to the larger cabin, just a crack. Their mystery girl has changed positions and is curled on her side, looking more asleep than unconscious. That's a good sign. He gently closes the door with a quiet snick and slips into the small galley. A few minutes later he's sipping coffee on the deck, watching the horizon slowly turn fiery shades of pink and orange.
The faint click of a door opening and closing announces that Sam is up. Dean refills his own coffee and pours one for Sam, setting it by his chair. But by the time he finishes his second cup, his brother hasn't made an appearance. And it's not necessarily anything to worry about, but, well. Dean is Dean, so he's going to investigate. He opens the door of their tiny cabin and stops, stunned, his senses assaulted by an eyeful of naked back half-covered with a spill of mother-of-pearl hair, perfect heart-shaped ass, and a quick flash of a tramp stamp that looks like a… no, that can't possibly be right. And suddenly the tattoo is framed by a pair of huge hands gripping a narrow waist and oh, Christ, it's Sam's hands, she's riding Sam cowgirl-style, and Dean has never noped back out of a door so quickly in his life.
~ ~ ~ ><> ><> ><> ~ ~ ~ ><> ><> ><> ~ ~ ~
The sun is fully up by the time Sam makes his way above deck. Without a word, he plops into the chair next to Dean's and takes a swallow of lukewarm coffee.
"Sleep well?" Dean asks.
Sam stares at the horizon. "Yep."
"Wake well?"
"Yeah." Sam smiles into his mug, not meeting Dean's eyes. "Yeah, I did."
"And I take it Aqua Woman is feeling better."
"Seems to be." Sam's lip twitches and he does not have the courtesy to look even the tiniest bit ashamed.
"Exactly how good does she feel, Sam?"
Sam grins. Big. "Pretty damn good, actually."
They're interrupted when Aqua Woman herself appears on the steps. She's wearing Sam's t-shirt, and maybe his swim trunks underneath - it’s impossible to tell, because the shirt is huge on her, slipping off her shoulder and reaching almost to her knees. She walks gracefully toward Dean, and the longer he soaks up her full lips, wide blue-green eyes, and thick dark lashes, the more he's convinced she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.
"Hello," she smiles. "I'm Alana." She holds out a hand and it's cool and soft, like her voice.
"Dean. I see you've already met my brother Sam."
"Yes, I have." She turns to flash a blinding smile at Sam and then slips her hand from Dean's grasp, resting it on his shoulder. "Thank you both for rescuing me. I would have been lost without you."
"No problem, sweetheart." He gives her his most seductive grin. Just making sure she knows what a mistake she made by picking the wrong brother; not trying to lure her away from Sam or anything.
Although. There really is something about her. Something kinda perfect.
"It'll take us a couple of hours to get you back to shore so you can get checked out at a hospital," Sam says. "Are you feeling okay? Do you remember anything? How did you get out here?" Asking all the questions now, since apparently they weren't talking much earlier.
She bites her lip, and Dean desperately wants to feel those perfect white teeth nibbling on his own lip. And other parts of him as well. "Do we have to go back to shore?" she says. "I'm really fine. And there's nothing for me there. I'd rather stay here with you."
Sam meets Dean's eyes and he's all furrowed brow and tight lips and something's not right here, and Dean knows what he's going to say, but Alana steps over to him and lightly plants a kiss on his cheek. "Please let me stay here with you," she says softly.
Sam's face softens into a dopey grin and he says exactly what Dean is thinking. "Of course. You should stay here with us."
~ ~ ~ ><> ><> ><> ~ ~ ~ ><> ><> ><> ~ ~ ~
They spend the rest of the morning doing nothing. Alana doesn't explain how she ended up in the water, but it doesn't matter. She's safe on their boat now; everything's fine. Everything's fine. She sits on Sam's lap and drinks his coffee and plays with his hair while Dean tries not to imagine her soft nimble fingers running through his own hair, she leans over the railing to watch the fish gliding alongside the boat and it turns out she is wearing the swim trunks Sam left her, rolled up high on her legs and riding low on her hips, and finally Dean decides he needs to go below deck and take a not-particularly-warm shower.
Everything's fine.
~ ~ ~ ><> ><> ><> ~ ~ ~ ><> ><> ><> ~ ~ ~
When he comes back up, Sam's in the big fishing chair, facing away from him, and oh, for fuck's sake, they're at it again. Alana is straddling him, head thrown back, slender fingers twisted in his hair, moaning, and Dean desperately needs to step away but he's frozen to his spot - and then she opens those huge blue-green eyes and fucking winks at him.
Dean probably needs to hang out in his cabin for a while. Everything's fine.
Lying on his bed, it occurs to him that she never did answer the question of where she came from, or why she was in the middle of the ocean, unconscious. It didn't seem important enough to pursue at the time. But now it seems important. He should go up and ask her again. Yeah, he'll do that.
~ ~ ~ ><> ><> ><> ~ ~ ~ ><> ><> ><> ~ ~ ~
By the time Dean's brave enough to get above deck again, Sam's alone.
"Where's Aqua Woman?"
Sam rolls his eyes. "Alana is sunbathing."
Damn. Topless, probably. If he stretches just a tiny bit, he can see the sunbathing deck and yep, there she is, lying on her stomach, completely nude. Dean swallows. And tries to think about what was bothering him so much earlier. Something about Alana… something Sam probably doesn't want to hear. He can't really remember. He's too distracted by something else he wants to talk about. And there really is no way to say your girl oughta be banging me instead without sounding kind of churlish.
"You know what you're getting into?"
Oooh. Sam's face suggests this wasn't a good opening. "Yeah, Dean, I think I can handle it."
"Not exactly your type, is she?"
"In what way?"
"Come on, dude, the bad girls are my type."
"Bad girl?"
"Yes, a bad girl. You go for librarians and I go for bad girls, and this one is a naughty girl, Sammy. I mean, she's got a 69 for a tramp stamp, for fuck's sake."
"Okay. One, have you forgotten Ruby?"
(Yeah, she was a very bad girl; Dean's got to give him that.)
"Two, don't call it a tramp stamp; that's douchey even for you. And three, it's not a 69, it's her zodiac symbol."
"You're telling me there's a sign of the zodiac that's symbolized by a 69?"
"It's not a 69; it's on its side. It's Cancer."
"All right, but I swear, she winked at me while you two were hunting for Moby Dick."
"I don't care."
"Hey, I'm just saying, she may be regretting her life choices at this point. Did she say anything about me?"
If Sam rolls his eyes any harder, they're going to roll right out of his head. "What, you mean, while she was having sex with me, did she mention you? Sure. Absolutely. She climbed on top of me and then said hey, I like your brother too; why don't you call him over here and we'll have a threesome."
"Seriously?"
"No, you idiot."
"Because if she did… you know… I would be… if she was interested…"
"Dean. No, she did not say that. And even if she was interested in a threesome with you and me, I'm not."
"Oh. Yeah." Dean rubs the back of his head. "Wasn't thinking about the you and me part of that."
"Obviously."
"So… did she say anything about me when she wasn't having sex with you?" But Sam's giving him the are you shitting me? face and maybe he's got a point. "Yeah, you're right. This is an awkward conversation."
"Yes, it is. Let's stop having it. Please." Sam turns and walks away, probably heading for the sunbathing deck, probably to sit next to her and rub sunscreen over all of that smooth sun-warmed naked skin and… dammit all to hell.
Dean stomps below deck again, and halfway down the stairs realizes he had a completely different conversation from the one he meant to have.
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That afternoon he stands beside Sam at the railing and they watch Alana swim, if you can call it that. Because she doesn't just swim like a normal person. She's literally cavorting naked with dolphins, laughing and splashing with them like some kind of fairy tale creature.
"For someone who spends so much time naked in the sun," Dean says, "she sure is pale."
Beautiful pale Alana waves, then tumbles and twists out of sight, swimming to the other side of the boat. Sam’s forehead folds into puzzled creases as stares silently at the Alana-free waves.
"She doesn't have any body hair," he eventually says. True, Dean noticed the Brazilian when Sam dragged her out of the water, but he's kind of surprised his brother would consider that an appropriate topic of conversation. But before he can respond, Sam continues. "So maybe she's a competitive swimmer. Something long distance. Do swimmers shave their arms? Or wax, maybe? She'd be stubbly by now if she shaved her arms and legs," he muses. "Anyway. Maybe that's why she's out here."
"We should ask her about that. We should really, really ask her about that."
"Yeah… I just keep getting distracted."
"No shit."
Sam smiles. "You know, I didn't approach her. I just woke up and she was standing next to the bed."
"You complaining?" Dean asks, with a raised eyebrow.
"No. No, God no. It's… she's amazing. It's just…"
"Inexplicable?" Dean offers. "Inconceivable? Incomprehensible?"
Sam turns to him with a surprised frown. "Unexpected."
Dean shrugs. "Beautiful naked woman shows up out of nowhere and, of the two of us, latches onto you? I'm going with incomprehensible."
Sam can bitchface all he wants at that one; it's the God's honest truth. But he isn't bitchfacing. Alana is back in view, and he's staring at a flash of long leg and full breasts bobbing in the water, and there's that dreamy expression again, and oh, fuck this. Dean needs to go read a book or something. He turns on his heel and heads back to his cabin.
"And another thing," he calls over his shoulder as he heads below deck. "You two obviously don't need separate beds. I'm moving your shit back into your room."
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Dean's alone in his cabin when he wakes up the next morning, but he doesn't have to wonder where Sam is. The walls on this boat are not particularly thick and he can hear murmurs next door. Laughter. Other things. And okay, maybe it's payback for all the times he brought a girl back to whatever shack they were hunkered down in, but Jesus. Sam always had the ability to at least take a walk and get away from it. All Dean can do is lie here and listen. Finally it occurs to him that this is a safe time to venture above deck, so he makes coffee and enjoys the breeze and the solitude.
When Sam and Alana emerge - him in swim trunks, her in another of Sam's t-shirts - Sam heads toward Dean. Alana pouts prettily and takes his hand. "Swim with me, Sam. You promised." He shrugs apologetically at Dean and lets her lead him to the sunbathing deck, where she pulls the t-shirt over her head and jumps naked into the water. Sam jumps in after her, still wearing his trunks, thank you baby Jesus.
Swimming was rarely a form of entertainment for Dean when they were young, not anything he normally did for fun or relaxation. Swimming was something he usually did with a monster in his sights and a blade clutched in his teeth. But Sam was always thrilled when there was a pool at their motel or crappy apartment complex, or a pond at their cabin or ancient farmhouse. He took to any body of water like a fish, dutifully swimming laps when Dad was around, playing like an otter when he wasn't, nose and shoulders constantly peeling from layer upon layer of sunburn. And now he's splashing with Alana like one of her goddamn dolphins and okay, he deserves this. It would be petty for Dean to resent it. It really would. He keeps repeating that to himself as he watches Sam and Alana frolic (there is no other word for it, they're fucking frolicking) in the water. And then as they climb onto the sunbathing deck and dangle their legs over the edge, with eyes only for each other. And as they come back onto the deck and Alana hops onto the rail, still as naked as the day she was born, shimmering in the sunlight.
Dean tries hard not to stare at her. She doesn't seem to care. She wears her nudity casually, as if a shirt were as optional as a hat or a necklace. But it still seems impolite, and Dean is nothing if not polite around beautiful naked women. He settles for grabbing quick glimpses when she's not looking. Which turns out to be pretty easy, since she spends most of her time staring at Sam. Right now she's pretending to be interested in whatever boring story he's telling her, something about almost falling overboard on their first day on the boat, whatever; it's hard to pay attention when she's right there, beautiful and wet and naked and happy, throwing her head back and laughing at Sam's stupid story.
"I remember that!" she says. "You were so funny. I was afraid I might have to come rescue you."
Sam stops, brow furrowed in confusion. "What? What do you mean, you remember?"
"Oh." Alana looks away and bites her pretty lip with her pretty teeth, then shrugs. "I have a confession to make. I've actually been watching you for a while."
Sam's alarm goes off first, because by the time Dean parses that conversation, his brother has stepped back from Alana and is already in hunter mode - narrowed eyes, defensive posture, a quick glance to confirm Dean's location.
"What are you?" he says.
Instead of answering, Alana strokes a finger down the faint tattoo on her leg and it darkens, deepening from lavender and aquamarine into purple and teal. The color spreads over her leg, then across both legs, and as Dean gapes in disbelief, her legs meld and extend into an iridescently-scaled tail. "Jesus Christ," he breathes. She's a goddamn mermaid? Suddenly, everything makes sense.
"Did you put a spell on him?" he yells, waving at Sam, who looks completely bewildered. "Is that why he can't think straight when you're around?"
"Of course not. I'm not a siren," she says, with a pretty little frown. "I don't take anybody against their will. I don't have to trick anyone into my bed." She turns to Sam and smiles warmly. "I'm just very enchanting. Difficult to resist. Sorry."
"Not complaining," Sam says.
"Good." She holds out a hand, beckoning him closer. "All I want is to make you happy. I've been watching you for weeks, Sam, ever since you arrived in my part of the sea, and I've grown to love you more every day." Sam's at her side now, holding her hand, looking at her like she's his everything. "And now we don't ever have to part."
"But I… this…" Sam stammers and falls silent, staring into her eyes.
"Come with me, Sam. Join me in my world. I know what your life is like, above the waves. I know it's cold and cruel and dangerous. You don't have to live that way any more. You can come live in peace, under the sea with me."
"Wait. No." Dean turns frantically to Sam, who isn't saying no. "Dude. You can't live underwater!" (Although what he really means is you can't abandon me. Please.)
"Of course he can." Alana doesn't look at Dean, her gaze still locked on Sam's dreamy smile. "Anyone who pledges their eternal troth to a mermaid can be granted the ability to breathe underwater, as we do. Will you, Sam? Will you come with me?"
Sam clasps Alana's tiny hand in both of his and her tail (her tail, she has a fucking tail) curls gently around his legs and oh, God, Dean can't watch, can't say goodbye, not like this. But he can't blame Sam for wanting to leave the pain of this life behind him, to escape to a world where he's not a hunter, to love someone again. He's not going to stop him. He's not.
But Dean goes weak-kneed in relief as Sam shakes his head. "I can't, Alana. This job we do, it's too important. I'm taking a break, but I have to get back to it. And I don't want to leave my brother behind."
Alana sighs a small, pretty little sigh. "I understand." She cups his face in her hands and pulls him down for a kiss. "I'll be here if you ever change your mind." Then, with a wink at Dean, she flips gracefully backward and plunges into the water. He gets one last glimpse of pale skin and iridescent tail, and then she dives out of sight.
The brothers stand at the rail in shock, staring at the empty surface, until Dean breaks the silence.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good," Sam sighs. He turns around to lean against the rail, facing away from the water. "I mean, she's great, she really is. But that whole thing, just. Not a long-term situation. No. I'm good."
"Good." The feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of Dean's stomach finally pulls up its anchor and drifts away. Everything's fine. Weird, but fine. Which is about as good as it gets for them.
"So, uh, I guess she was your type after all," he says. Sam frowns at him. "Because she's a -"
"I know what she is, Dean."
"Yeah. So. Cancer, huh?"
"Uh huh."
"I'd have guessed Pisces. I mean, Cancer, the crab, sure, that works too. Just seems like she'd be a Pisces. Because she's a - "
"I know."
"You're not gonna let me say it, are you?"
Sam rubs a hand down his face with a sigh. "Fine. Go ahead."
"Because she's a mermaid! Because you fucked a mermaid! Because Sam. Winchester. Fucked. A mermaid!"
Sam's glare suddenly turns into a grin. "And you're so jealous, you can hardly stand it."
Dean's thrown. "You're jealous." Dammit.
Sam laughs at Dean's lame attempt at a comeback, which is hardly fair. It's been a stressful day. "Got it out of your system?"
"Are you kidding? I am never, ever going to get the fact that you fucked a mermaid out of my system. I mean, you've had some inhuman girlfriends in your life, but this one's my absolute favorite."
"Well, save it." Sam turns and heads down the stairs. "I'm going to take a very long nap."
"I hope she didn't give you crabs, Prince Eric," Dean yells at Sam's retreating back.
Yeah, he's going to enjoy this for a while.
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(The title, of course, is from "Kiss the Girl" from the movie The Little Mermaid.)