Heart of the Hardest World
Title: Heart of the Hardest World
Beta: judith-88-g, cherie-morte
Pairing: Sam/Ruby
Rating: R for language
Word count: ~800
Summary: When Dean ends up in Hell, Ruby spares no effort in keeping Sam alive. She's rewarded with an idea that strikes her on duty: a plan for a little payback.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my lovely betas, Judith and Cherie, who managed to pick a million mistakes among so few words.
When Sam comes back from his demon hunt, he finds her in the living room, amusing herself with its dubious hospitality. She's settled down on the sofa, her legs extended and crossed at the ankles. She flicks through old magazines as she leisurely sips coffee.
It's impossible to tell if the sight of the unwelcome guest annoys Sam at all, or to what extent; he's constantly radiating anger and exasperation these days.
Ruby takes in his silhouette all the same. He looks utterly exhausted: a little bruised, and layers-dirty where his skin sticks out from that huge, discolored sweatshirt. His tousled hair is a perfect web to catch all the grime along the path of slaughter, proper for a grieving Winchester.
Worlds collide when their gazes lock. Looking back at Sam is a sleek portrayal of deliberate beauty in a trimmed all over flesh-dress.
"Out!" Sam rasps.
Pointedly, he leans against the door frame, granting her a wider passage.
Ruby rises to her feet with unstudied grace, strolls across the room like she's touring a palace chamber. She lingers in the doorway, casting a sideways glance as she walks past Sam.
"You can't just burst into my place anytime you want," he tells her.
"I would take that with a grain of salt," Ruby drawls, a smirk playing on her lips. She leans in close to whisper in his ear. "There was none when I came in here today."
Slowly, she begins to move back to the hall. Just the tiniest steps to make sure he follows. Doesn't he always?
They're moving together like a set of magnets, only a fine stripe of space gliding in between. For all its flimsiness, this invisible barrier will hold. Sam never touches her outside of when they fuck, not since the first time they did.
"Still cradling that death wish, Sam?" she breathes. "I'm trying to keep you out of harm's way but I won't waste my effort on someone who trips over his own shoelaces."
Persistent in his silence, Sam is towering over her, looking down on her. Step by step steering her toward the exit. She lets him. Backing away with deliberate precision, she brings him right where she wants him.
Suddenly she stops and Sam practically bumps against the invisible barrier between them.
Ruby can almost sympathize; she knows the feeling too well. She won't. It's good being on the other end of this for once.
Confusion flows in a swift wave beneath Sam's complexion, just the barest touch of it, hardly twisting his features at all, but of course Ruby takes notice. And she knows that confusion too. This time around she revels in it.
Their gazes meet again. His is questioning and rightly so. Sam's not mistaken in his assumption that she's making a point here. Ruby's smile is soft and innocent as she looks up at the ceiling in lieu of the answer. And his gaze follows.
Right above where Sam stands hangs a considerable wreath of mistletoe.
"Gotcha." She leers.
For a few heavy seconds, Sam is all tension and small twitches of well defined muscles under his skin. But then his anger and exhaustion gradually give way to rising amusement.
"This is-"
"Ridiculous," she acknowledges.
"And you're just-"
"Devious?"
He halts, watching her apprehensively, and she thinks there’s a glint of fondness in his eyes.
"Something else."
Silence stretches until Sam looks up once again, and then he shakes his head with a smile that's still somewhat incredulous.
"Also, it's June, Ruby," he says.
"You'll be surprised to know that mistletoe keeps evil out no matter the season."
Sam only raises an eyebrow at that, looking at her pointedly.
"Not all of it, obviously." She rolls her eyes. "But it does repel most hexes."
He is about to protest, but she cuts him off.
"Sam, you're in Lilith’s sights, now more than ever. She'll throw everything she's got at you. That wreath stays up."
Sam sighs, already resigned to it. "Fine."
"See?" She grins. "There's no way you're getting out of this without a kiss."
Once again Sam looks up to see the trap he got himself into. He seems to be mulling over his options for awhile before he speaks. "Just a kiss and you'll get going?"
"Uh-huh!" Ruby nods eagerly.
"You've got yourself a deal."
"Deal!"
She melts into him, and their lips meet. It's chaste at first, then Sam deepens the kiss and gets lost in the soft, pliant warmth of her mouth. He always does.
"I really didn't want to do that," Sam gasps when they break off, and yet he's still holding her in his embrace.
"In that case, salt the entries for me next time?"
"Yeah!" He nods fervently. "Yeah, I'll make sure to do that."
"That's my boy."
Sam glares, and she parts with an easy smile. Her hand lingers on his.
Beta: judith-88-g, cherie-morte
Pairing: Sam/Ruby
Rating: R for language
Word count: ~800
Summary: When Dean ends up in Hell, Ruby spares no effort in keeping Sam alive. She's rewarded with an idea that strikes her on duty: a plan for a little payback.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my lovely betas, Judith and Cherie, who managed to pick a million mistakes among so few words.
When Sam comes back from his demon hunt, he finds her in the living room, amusing herself with its dubious hospitality. She's settled down on the sofa, her legs extended and crossed at the ankles. She flicks through old magazines as she leisurely sips coffee.
It's impossible to tell if the sight of the unwelcome guest annoys Sam at all, or to what extent; he's constantly radiating anger and exasperation these days.
Ruby takes in his silhouette all the same. He looks utterly exhausted: a little bruised, and layers-dirty where his skin sticks out from that huge, discolored sweatshirt. His tousled hair is a perfect web to catch all the grime along the path of slaughter, proper for a grieving Winchester.
Worlds collide when their gazes lock. Looking back at Sam is a sleek portrayal of deliberate beauty in a trimmed all over flesh-dress.
"Out!" Sam rasps.
Pointedly, he leans against the door frame, granting her a wider passage.
Ruby rises to her feet with unstudied grace, strolls across the room like she's touring a palace chamber. She lingers in the doorway, casting a sideways glance as she walks past Sam.
"You can't just burst into my place anytime you want," he tells her.
"I would take that with a grain of salt," Ruby drawls, a smirk playing on her lips. She leans in close to whisper in his ear. "There was none when I came in here today."
Slowly, she begins to move back to the hall. Just the tiniest steps to make sure he follows. Doesn't he always?
They're moving together like a set of magnets, only a fine stripe of space gliding in between. For all its flimsiness, this invisible barrier will hold. Sam never touches her outside of when they fuck, not since the first time they did.
"Still cradling that death wish, Sam?" she breathes. "I'm trying to keep you out of harm's way but I won't waste my effort on someone who trips over his own shoelaces."
Persistent in his silence, Sam is towering over her, looking down on her. Step by step steering her toward the exit. She lets him. Backing away with deliberate precision, she brings him right where she wants him.
Suddenly she stops and Sam practically bumps against the invisible barrier between them.
Ruby can almost sympathize; she knows the feeling too well. She won't. It's good being on the other end of this for once.
Confusion flows in a swift wave beneath Sam's complexion, just the barest touch of it, hardly twisting his features at all, but of course Ruby takes notice. And she knows that confusion too. This time around she revels in it.
Their gazes meet again. His is questioning and rightly so. Sam's not mistaken in his assumption that she's making a point here. Ruby's smile is soft and innocent as she looks up at the ceiling in lieu of the answer. And his gaze follows.
Right above where Sam stands hangs a considerable wreath of mistletoe.
"Gotcha." She leers.
For a few heavy seconds, Sam is all tension and small twitches of well defined muscles under his skin. But then his anger and exhaustion gradually give way to rising amusement.
"This is-"
"Ridiculous," she acknowledges.
"And you're just-"
"Devious?"
He halts, watching her apprehensively, and she thinks there’s a glint of fondness in his eyes.
"Something else."
Silence stretches until Sam looks up once again, and then he shakes his head with a smile that's still somewhat incredulous.
"Also, it's June, Ruby," he says.
"You'll be surprised to know that mistletoe keeps evil out no matter the season."
Sam only raises an eyebrow at that, looking at her pointedly.
"Not all of it, obviously." She rolls her eyes. "But it does repel most hexes."
He is about to protest, but she cuts him off.
"Sam, you're in Lilith’s sights, now more than ever. She'll throw everything she's got at you. That wreath stays up."
Sam sighs, already resigned to it. "Fine."
"See?" She grins. "There's no way you're getting out of this without a kiss."
Once again Sam looks up to see the trap he got himself into. He seems to be mulling over his options for awhile before he speaks. "Just a kiss and you'll get going?"
"Uh-huh!" Ruby nods eagerly.
"You've got yourself a deal."
"Deal!"
She melts into him, and their lips meet. It's chaste at first, then Sam deepens the kiss and gets lost in the soft, pliant warmth of her mouth. He always does.
"I really didn't want to do that," Sam gasps when they break off, and yet he's still holding her in his embrace.
"In that case, salt the entries for me next time?"
"Yeah!" He nods fervently. "Yeah, I'll make sure to do that."
"That's my boy."
Sam glares, and she parts with an easy smile. Her hand lingers on his.