He felt her hand, fingers warm as they curled onto his forearm, and he could hear his heart pounding loudly against his eardrums. He closed his eyes, trying to silence his own pulse, as she spoke directly at him, her fingers giving a slight squeeze.
Sam, look at me.
He opened his eyes and let go of a slow breath as he finally looked up at her. Her gaze burned into him with an intensity he had never really seen in her eyes before. She wanted answers, needed them, and he was too much of a chicken to just flat out admit that he needed her.
More than a hunting buddy. More than a friend. More than he had ever needed Jessica.
He tried to form a coherent response that didn't sound extremely lame to his own ears, but even as the wheels were turning in his head, she silenced them with one single movement.
Her hand still gripping his arm, she leaned over and kissed him.
They'd kissed before, not anything new between the two of them. But tonight, tonight it wasn't some sloppy kiss on his couch after one too many beers for him and wine coolers for her.
Tonight was--
There was no single word.
He allowed himself not to think for once in his life, not to be rational Sam who always weighed out actions versus consequences, and he kissed her back.
He leaned forward to meet her, cursing the table between them. His free hand found its way to the side of her face, thumb stroking the soft hair at her temple. He ignored the feel of the edge of the table pressing against his stomach, ignored the deathgrip she still had on his arm as if he would change his mind and run away at any moment.
He simply kissed her, took in the sweet tang of the tequila on her lips, and hoped that this answered her question in a way that he couldn't form the words for.
He didn't leave. He didn't run out on her, pull back like he'd been burned, or say no you don't, but thanks for saying it...
Instead, Sam stayed there, bringing his free hand up to her cheek, and Buffy sighed against his mouth.
She could read the guy like a book even when she couldn't see his face and right now he was saying that what he'd been saying earlier was so very much present tense. Not past. He wanted her now like he'd wanted her then only there'd been too much in the way and God, she felt the same.
Buffy's grip on his arm relaxed, somewhat. Sure now that he wasn't going to bail on her, she kissed him again until she saw stars - almost literally - and the disappointment over having to breathe almost killed her.
She pulled back just a little, suddenly aware they'd amassed quite the crowd of onlookers and cleared her throat, flushing. "Umm, we have an audience..."
Not what she'd wanted to say at all after that, but--Not something she wanted to say in front of an audience, either. "Wow... Definitely wow. And other things that I can't put into words right now."
When she kissed him again, he knew that she understood, and he was glad that she could read him as good as she could.
She pulled back, both of them needing air, and he smiled at the blush that warmed her cheeks. Something deep in his chest almost made him say, "let them look", but the more rational Sam side of him just chuckled under his breath as he rested his forehead against hers.
"Coherence is overrated," he joked lightly, unable to even process everything himself. Especially now that all those fears that had needled at him had proven to be nothing but that--just fears.
The waitress quietly cleared her throat as she stepped up to the table, a wide grin on her face. "You two gonna be needing another round tonight?"
Sam pulled away from Buffy reluctantly, his free hand finding hers that still held onto his arm. He didn't tear his gaze from Buffy as he smiled slightly. "No, I think we're finally good."
The waitress nodded, slipping the tab onto the table. "You two be safe, alright?" she said, gathering the empty bottles from the table. "Getting late out there."
Broken apart by the Waitress - who seemed to be using her powers for good and blocking the other patrons staring - Buffy sat back in her seat, smiling when Sam placed his hand over hers.
No, I think we're finally good.
Warmed by that alone, Buffy grinned, dropping a couple of $20's on the table for the waitress. "We're good," she nodded, wondering how much heartache would've been avoided if they'd just done this three years ago. If she hadn't passed out, drunk. If she hadn't gone home, if only...
Buffy blinked as she thought of her last moments with Spike, down in the Hellmouth. What he'd said... She'd told him about Sam the day before. Pretty hard to avoid considering he knew she'd been crying when he'd seen her but...
'I love you,' she'd told him softly, clasping his hand, even though it burned. 'No you don't' he'd replied, 'but thanks for saying it.'
And she'd been mad at him - so fucking mad because how could he know that? She had loved him in her own way - fucked up and crazy though their relationship was. But in love with him?
Yeah, Spike had known alright. He'd known the night before when she'd found out Sam was dead and he'd held her, despite that. Let her cry it out. And--Here she was.
She looked down at Sam's hand, clasped gently on top of hers, and felt the corners of her mouth tug into a smile. "She's right, y'know, it's getting late... Can I walk you home, Sam?" She asked, softly - the first words he'd spoken to her, back in Stanford when he'd come across her studying in the library and they'd got talking.
The waitress retrieved the money and bid them a good night before walking away.
"You buy my alcohol and you offer to walk me home?" he laughed, grinning at her as he gave her hand a squeeze. "When exactly did I become the girl here?"
He slid out of the booth, gently pulling Buffy along with him until they were both on their feet.
It didn't look like anyone was going to be carrying anyone back to the hotel tonight, and Sam was grateful for that. Tonight wouldn't be a repeat of their first failed attempt to be more than friends, something that had haunted them for so many years.
"Can I trust you not to take advantage of me?" he smirked.
"I'd answer that, but you might kill me," she teased, though really, any claims of being a girl would be lost on Sam. Completely. Hell, Dean too, though Buffy would never say that one out loud.
She let Sam pull her to her feet and stood with him, toe-to-toe for a moment.
Can I trust you not to take advantage of me?
Buffy laughed at that and tugged Sam's hand until he started walking with her. "You can trust me," she said with a slight smile, "Not sure about that last part, Winchester."
She took a breath as they left the bar and met his gaze, "How much is Dean gonna kill you if you don't find your way back to your room tonight?"
He smiled as she tugged at his hand, and they started walking side by side on the sidewalk. He gave her a sideways glance as she mentioned him not returning to his own room for the night.
And he'd be lying if he said he hadn't already been thinking that thought--he was red-blooded male afterall--but for Buffy to be on his train of thought was surprising. A good surprising but surprising nonetheless.
His lips curled into a smirk at her question, his fingers interlacing with hers. "I think Dean'll survive. He'll probably blow up my phone, but he'll have to get over it."
Because for once, Sam was gonna do what he wanted to do without checking in with his brother like he was John.
Sam, look at me.
He opened his eyes and let go of a slow breath as he finally looked up at her. Her gaze burned into him with an intensity he had never really seen in her eyes before. She wanted answers, needed them, and he was too much of a chicken to just flat out admit that he needed her.
More than a hunting buddy. More than a friend. More than he had ever needed Jessica.
He tried to form a coherent response that didn't sound extremely lame to his own ears, but even as the wheels were turning in his head, she silenced them with one single movement.
Her hand still gripping his arm, she leaned over and kissed him.
They'd kissed before, not anything new between the two of them. But tonight, tonight it wasn't some sloppy kiss on his couch after one too many beers for him and wine coolers for her.
Tonight was--
There was no single word.
He allowed himself not to think for once in his life, not to be rational Sam who always weighed out actions versus consequences, and he kissed her back.
He leaned forward to meet her, cursing the table between them. His free hand found its way to the side of her face, thumb stroking the soft hair at her temple. He ignored the feel of the edge of the table pressing against his stomach, ignored the deathgrip she still had on his arm as if he would change his mind and run away at any moment.
He simply kissed her, took in the sweet tang of the tequila on her lips, and hoped that this answered her question in a way that he couldn't form the words for.
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Instead, Sam stayed there, bringing his free hand up to her cheek, and Buffy sighed against his mouth.
She could read the guy like a book even when she couldn't see his face and right now he was saying that what he'd been saying earlier was so very much present tense. Not past. He wanted her now like he'd wanted her then only there'd been too much in the way and God, she felt the same.
Buffy's grip on his arm relaxed, somewhat. Sure now that he wasn't going to bail on her, she kissed him again until she saw stars - almost literally - and the disappointment over having to breathe almost killed her.
She pulled back just a little, suddenly aware they'd amassed quite the crowd of onlookers and cleared her throat, flushing. "Umm, we have an audience..."
Not what she'd wanted to say at all after that, but--Not something she wanted to say in front of an audience, either. "Wow... Definitely wow. And other things that I can't put into words right now."
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She pulled back, both of them needing air, and he smiled at the blush that warmed her cheeks. Something deep in his chest almost made him say, "let them look", but the more rational Sam side of him just chuckled under his breath as he rested his forehead against hers.
"Coherence is overrated," he joked lightly, unable to even process everything himself. Especially now that all those fears that had needled at him had proven to be nothing but that--just fears.
The waitress quietly cleared her throat as she stepped up to the table, a wide grin on her face. "You two gonna be needing another round tonight?"
Sam pulled away from Buffy reluctantly, his free hand finding hers that still held onto his arm. He didn't tear his gaze from Buffy as he smiled slightly. "No, I think we're finally good."
The waitress nodded, slipping the tab onto the table. "You two be safe, alright?" she said, gathering the empty bottles from the table. "Getting late out there."
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No, I think we're finally good.
Warmed by that alone, Buffy grinned, dropping a couple of $20's on the table for the waitress. "We're good," she nodded, wondering how much heartache would've been avoided if they'd just done this three years ago. If she hadn't passed out, drunk. If she hadn't gone home, if only...
Buffy blinked as she thought of her last moments with Spike, down in the Hellmouth. What he'd said... She'd told him about Sam the day before. Pretty hard to avoid considering he knew she'd been crying when he'd seen her but...
'I love you,' she'd told him softly, clasping his hand, even though it burned.
'No you don't' he'd replied, 'but thanks for saying it.'
And she'd been mad at him - so fucking mad because how could he know that? She had loved him in her own way - fucked up and crazy though their relationship was. But in love with him?
Yeah, Spike had known alright. He'd known the night before when she'd found out Sam was dead and he'd held her, despite that. Let her cry it out. And--Here she was.
She looked down at Sam's hand, clasped gently on top of hers, and felt the corners of her mouth tug into a smile. "She's right, y'know, it's getting late... Can I walk you home, Sam?" She asked, softly - the first words he'd spoken to her, back in Stanford when he'd come across her studying in the library and they'd got talking.
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"You buy my alcohol and you offer to walk me home?" he laughed, grinning at her as he gave her hand a squeeze. "When exactly did I become the girl here?"
He slid out of the booth, gently pulling Buffy along with him until they were both on their feet.
It didn't look like anyone was going to be carrying anyone back to the hotel tonight, and Sam was grateful for that. Tonight wouldn't be a repeat of their first failed attempt to be more than friends, something that had haunted them for so many years.
"Can I trust you not to take advantage of me?" he smirked.
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She let Sam pull her to her feet and stood with him, toe-to-toe for a moment.
Can I trust you not to take advantage of me?
Buffy laughed at that and tugged Sam's hand until he started walking with her. "You can trust me," she said with a slight smile, "Not sure about that last part, Winchester."
She took a breath as they left the bar and met his gaze, "How much is Dean gonna kill you if you don't find your way back to your room tonight?"
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And he'd be lying if he said he hadn't already been thinking that thought--he was red-blooded male afterall--but for Buffy to be on his train of thought was surprising. A good surprising but surprising nonetheless.
His lips curled into a smirk at her question, his fingers interlacing with hers. "I think Dean'll survive. He'll probably blow up my phone, but he'll have to get over it."
Because for once, Sam was gonna do what he wanted to do without checking in with his brother like he was John.
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