Six Months And Counting
Title: Six Months And Counting ( Dean's Girl verse)
Author: xephwrites
Pairings: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC17
Word Count:
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: None
Summary: It's been six months since Dean and Samantha left their old lives behind with John. Samantha has been living as a girl the entire time, and the two of them couldn't be happier.
Warnings: Fem!Sam, crossdressing, incest, underage, romance, graphic m/m sex
Notes: This is the first in a three fic arc tying Becoming Samantha, First Date, Emancipation Of Samantha Winchester to Dean's Girl. Many thanks to the lovely moonofblindness for the beta of this part! She is an amazing cheerleader, beta, alpha and support team wrapped up in one lovely package! (And I probably just embarrassed the crap out of her as well! MWAH!)
~*~*~*~*~*~
Since they left John, Samantha felt happy for the first time in her life. She left all of her boy clothes behind with their father, and that was liberating.
With the help of a few contacts Dean was able to retain, her school records and all ID were changed. Samuel Winchester no longer existed.
They found a nice quiet town to settle in. After a few weeks of staying in a small motel, Dean was able to find a room for them.
And that’s all it was; a large room with a kitchenette and a tiny bathroom off to the side. It was not much better than a motel room, but it was theirs. It was above the garage that Dean managed to get a job at. They worked him hard, but the pay was good. Samantha had suspicions that the apartment wasn’t legal, but it was all they could get.
Her new school was very much like every other school she had been to before. She didn’t quite fit in with the popular kids, but she didn’t fade into the background either. She found a few friendly people, but she still remained reserved.
She was too afraid of people finding out her secret.
She was careful, very careful. She always declined dates from boys and rarely went out with the few female friends she had. Dean had to push her out of their tiny apartment once, making her go shopping with a friend at the mall.
Samantha had finished her last exam of the year, and she was exhausted. She stretched the normally ten minute walk from the school to home out to near a half hour. The large garage doors were open, and the sound of power tools and heavy metal music spilled out into the street.
“Hey,” she called into the garage, stepping inside carefully. Steven poked his head out of the tiny office.
“Sorry, Samantha,” he said. “Dean cut his hand, I sent him home early.”
“Okay,” she said, taking a wide step to avoid a pool of spilled oil. Steven chuckled.
“Watch it. Don’t want to get those pretty shoes all mucked up,” Steven said, waving at her.
She took the metal stairs leading up the side of the building two at a time. Good thing she wore her capris today.
The hallway was dark as her eyes adjusted to the lack of sunlight. She walked quickly to the end one, trying to ignore the smells seeping out from the other apartments. Their door was unlocked.
“Dean,” she called as she stepped in. Dean was sitting on the couch, his left hand with a bandage wrapped around it.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean said, dropping his feet off the milk crate that served as a coffee table and ottoman.
“What did you do?” She sat beside him, taking his hand and inspecting the bandage. Dean chuckled.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Just caught the edge of a broken muffler bracket,” Dean stared at the panicked look in Samantha’s eyes. “I went to the hospital, got it cleaned, and no stitches. I’ll be fine in a few days.” His good hand came up to cup the side of her face. She leaned into the touch.
“I know you’re okay,” she said, placing a kiss on his palm. “Did it have to be today?” She looked at him with a pout.
“Why, what’s today?”
Sam’s mouth opened in shock. There was no way Dean didn’t know what today was. Disappointment filled her.
The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched and she caught a flash of mischief in his eyes. She shoved him in the chest playfully.
“Jerk!”
“Did you honestly think that I’d forget today?” he laughed and tried to tickle her side with his good hand. She squirmed out of his grasp laughing.
They fell onto the floor tangled in each other.
“Six months,” she said. Dean kissed the tip of her nose.
“Told you we’d make it,” he said, feathering kisses across her cheeks. She smiled and captured Dean’s lips in a kiss. It was soft and inviting. Dean kissed back, running his tongue along her bottom lip.
Samantha opened her mouth and let their tongues slide together. Dean’s good hand ran down the side of her neck and rested on the strap of her tank top. His fingertips danced on her shoulder as his mouth moved across her jaw and down her neck.
She moaned softly and started tugging on his shirt, trying to work it off of Dean. Dean chuckled and pulled away from her.
“Not yet,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose once again. “Later.”
Samantha pouted and tried to pull Dean back on top of her. Dean chuckled as he gave her one last kiss on her forehead before using his good hand to pull himself up off the floor. He held his hand out to Samantha to pull her off the floor.
“So, no more school until September,” Dean said, pulling her in for a hug. Samantha nodded against his chest. “How are we going to celebrate,” he mused with a playful tone in his voice.
“Sex?” Samantha asked. Dean chuckled and shook his head.
“Look on the bed,” he whispered in her ear. Samantha pulled out of his arms and walked around the couch to their bed. A large white box was lying on the center. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.
Dean nodded towards it, watching her intently. Samantha smiled and opened the lid on the box. She gasped when she saw what was inside.
Inside was a burgundy lace dress. It looked like it would fall to just below Samantha’s knees, and it had bell sleeves.
“Dean, it’s beautiful,” she said, carefully taking the dress out of the box.
“There’s more,” Dean came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
As Samantha unfolded the dress, an envelope fell to the mattress. She picked it up with a raised eyebrow. Dean smiled as she opened it and saw the contents.
“Midsummer Night’s Dream tickets,” she squealed. She jumped into Dean’s arms, kissing him. Dean chuckled.
“Come on,” Dean said, kissing her on the lips. “We’ve gotta get ready if we’re going to make the dinner reservation.” Dean unwound the bandage around his hand. He held up his palm and wiggled his fingers at Samantha.
His hand was not cut.
“Got Steven in on it,” Dean smirked.
“Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” Samantha scolded. Dean laughed as he ducked a halfhearted slap.
“Come on,” he said, picking up a dry cleaning bag. “Get dressed. Can’t wait to see how good you’re going to look in it.”
They dressed on opposite sides of the bed, sneaking glances at each other.
Samantha took a moment to admire her brother. He was wearing a navy blue dress shirt, black dress pants with a matching two button vest. He held up two ties.
“Black one or blue striped?” he asked. Samantha shook her head.
“No tie,” she said as she tried to reach around to the zipper at the back. Dean tossed them both on the old dresser and rounded the bed. He tugged up Samantha’s zipper carefully, placing a kiss on the back of her neck. She turned to face him.
It looked better than he imagined. The burgundy made her skin almost glow. The lace fell so naturally against her frame.
“You’re so beautiful,” Dean whispered, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. She smiled.
“Thank you for the dress,” Samantha said. She pulled away from Dean and headed to the bathroom.
“Don’t take too long with the warpaint,” Dean groaned as he began searching for his keys and wallet. She looked over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out playfully. “Stick it out again, and I’ll make you use it,” he said as she closed the bathroom door.
She picked through the makeup bag and tried to match eye shadow to her dress. She settled on steel blue. She used a bit of foundation to cover the few freckles on the bridge of her nose from the spring sun. She smiled as she unwrapped her new wine colored lipstick.
Dean was looking out the window nervously and checking his watch. He was muttering under his breath when Samantha wound her arms around his waist.
“Ready?”
Dean shook his head, still staring out the window. She narrowed her eyes at him.
A minute later, Dean mumbled, “Finally,” and wrapped an arm around her, leading her out of their apartment. They ignored the shouts from one of their neighbors’ apartments and opened the heavy metal door leading to the steps.
Waiting at the bottom of the stairs was a black Lincoln Town Car.
“You didn’t,” she said, trying not to run down the stairs.
“Hey, if I’m taking my girl out to celebrate, I’m doing it in style,” he said, following after her. The driver stepped out and held open the passenger door. He held out a white gloved hand to help Samantha in.
Once seated, Samantha sighed wistfully.
“How are you going to top this for the one year mark,” she asked playfully. Dean shrugged.
“Got another six months to work that out,” he said as he placed a hand on her knee.
The driver took the county road leading to the small city twenty miles away. In the back seat, Samantha and Dean held hands, sharing Eskimo kisses. Dean caught the gaze and smile of the driver in the rearview mirror.
Once in the small city, Samantha was glued to the window. Between her school and Dean’s job, they never had a chance to come. Dean had promised her that they would spend a weekend here at one of the hotels. Hotel, not little fleabag motel
The driver parked in front of D’Azevedo’s. Samantha had seen advertisements in the local newspaper for it, and it was high class. The driver exited the car and held open Samantha’s door, helping her out of the backseat.
“’Bout an hour and a half,” Dean said as he stepped out. The driver gave a quick nod and tip of his hat. Samantha took Dean’s hand as they walked up to the restaurant.
Inside, they were greeted by a tiny man in a tuxedo. He smiled at them.
“Reservation for two,” Dean said, sneaking a wink at Samantha.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Winchester,” the Maitre’d said with a heavy European accent. “A special night, no?” He nodded at Samantha, who couldn’t help but blush.
“Yes, Armand, it is,” Dean said. Samantha looked questioningly at Dean. “Tell you later,” he whispered as Armand led them through the restaurant.
They were seated in a raised booth at the back of the restaurant, near the kitchen doors. A bottle of champagne was already there, on ice, waiting for them. There was a small bouquet of calla lilies on the table surrounded by several small glass candle holders. Armand motioned for Samantha to take a seat. She slid onto the plush velvet bench, eyes wide as she took in the scene. Dean slid in across from her. Armand opened the bottle of champagne and poured two glasses.
“The specials this evening are an eight ounce New York strip with vegetables, and chicken parmesan with salad. Would you like a menu?”
Dean looked to Samantha. She knew he would be ordering the steak.
“I think I will have the chicken parmesan,” Samantha said, taking her flute glass. Dean smiled.
“I’ll take the New York strip, medium rare please,” Dean said. “And some bacon scallops to start.” Armand gave a short nod and walked off to the kitchen.
“Okay, explain,” Samantha said with a smirk. She took a sip of the champagne and waited.
“Armand had a huge carburetor problem, and I fixed it,” Dean picked up his glass. “And I got rid of the ghost terrorizing this restaurant,” he added quickly, downing the glass.
“Are you kidding me,” she hissed. “You said, hell, you swore that you wouldn’t hunt ever again!”
Dean avoided her glare as he refilled his glass.
“I couldn’t let him suffer, especially when it was such an easy one,” Dean said, holding the bottle to Samantha. She crossed her arms and shook her head.
“When were you planning on telling me?”
Dean shrugged. Samantha rolled her eyes.
“I’m in the doghouse, aren’t I?” he asked, risking making eye contact. Her lips were pressed in a hard line, but her eyes were soft.
“You are buying me the biggest slice of chocolate cheesecake this place has,” Samantha said. Dean smiled. He watched as the corners of her mouth twitched, trying not to smile back at him.
“It’s not that bad,” Dean said. “We’re getting an amazing meal out of it.”
Samantha smiled.
“Your scallops,” Armand said as he placed the plate between them. There were a dozen scallops, some fried quail eggs and several strips of bacon.
“Am I forgiven?” Dean held out his fork with a piece of scallop and bacon on it. Samantha leaned forward and ate it. She closed her eyes and hummed as she chewed.
“Ask me after the cheesecake,” she said. Dean laughed as he took some for himself.
“So, am I going to spend the entire play translating for you?” Samantha asked after they finished the appetizers.
“Nope, it’s one of those modernized dialogue ones. No thou’s and all that crap.” Dean took her hand and brushed his thumb along her knuckles.
“Cheater,” she laughed.
“Damn right,” Dean refilled Samantha’s glass. “Anyways, only certain plays of his still work in Old English. Like Macbeth.”
Samantha sighed and rested her chin on her hand.
“You’re just saying that to sound smart.”
Dean shrugged and kissed the back of her hand.
“Chicken parmesan for the beautiful lady,” Armand said as he placed a plate in front of Samantha. “Medium rare strip for the gentleman.” Armand gave a half bow. “Enjoy.”
It was the best meal Samantha had ever had. They ate in comfortable silence, sharing the occasional bite from each other’s plate.
“I don’t think I could handle that cheesecake right now,” Samantha groaned. “Too full.”
Dean placed his napkin on the table beside his plate. He refilled Samantha’s glass.
“Are you trying to get me tipsy and take advantage of me,” she said playfully, sipping at her once again full glass. Dean emptied the bottle into his glass.
“Don’t need to get you drunk for that,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her. She giggled and finished her champagne, thankful that she wasn’t wearing heels, just in case.
“How was everything,” Armand asked as a busboy began clearing the table.
“It was wonderful,” Samantha gushed.
“Anytime you two like, please come back. And Mr. Winchester, I insist next time you take the chef’s table.”
“Thanks, Armand. But tonight we wanted something private,” Dean said, digging out his wallet. When he opened it, Armand held up his hand.
“This is my thanks for taking care of the…problem,” Armand said lowering his voice. “You and your beautiful lady have a magical evening.”
They said their goodbyes. Dean helped Samantha out of the booth.
“I think I may have had a little too much champagne,” she giggled.
“Are you drunk,” he teased.
“No, just…light,” she giggled.
Outside the restaurant, the driver was waiting for them. He opened the door for them, and drove them to the theatre. It wasn’t a lavish building, but it had the lighted awning, gold trimmed glass doors and red carpet.
“Just like in movies,” Samantha said, linking her arm through Dean’s as they walked up to the doorman. He took their tickets and handed them to an usher in a red jacket.
The theatre was set up like a traditional Shakespearian theatre, circular stage, and small second story. They were seated in the front row.
“I love you,” Samantha said as she rested her head on Dean’s shoulder.
“I love you too,” Dean said as the lights dimmed.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Dean pushed Samantha against the apartment door, his lips on hers. He fumbled trying to slide the deadbolt across. She tore at the buttons of his vest, trying not to rip the fabric. When the deadbolt slid home, he leaned down, wrapping his arm around her knees and lifting her. She buried her face into his neck, kissing and biting as he carried her across the room to their bed.
He placed her back on her feet at the foot of the bed. He kissed her again, his hands winding around to her back, finding the zipper of her dress. He tugged it down and helped her shrug out of the dress. Not breaking their kiss, they both worked at the buttons of Dean’s shirt.
They laughed softly into each other’s mouths as they tried to step out of shoes and pull down Dean’s dress pants. Dean pulled them onto the bed and rolled so he was above her.
“There was a lot of innuendo in that play,” Dean said, kissing a line down her neck. She laughed.
“Does Shakespeare get you hot?” She gasped as Dean bit her collar bone.
“Not even a little bit,” he said against her skin. “But you get me hot.” He mouthed down her chest, savoring the taste of her skin. He took a nipple into his mouth and laved it gently. She pushed up into the touch. He moved further down to her stomach.
“I think champagne makes you horny,” Dean said, circling her belly button with his tongue.
“Didn’t help you had that extra bottle hidden in the car,” she got out between pants.
One of Dean’s hands reached out to the milk crate beside the bed, searching for the lube. Finding it, he sat back on his knees. He stared at Samantha’s cock peeking out from the elastic of her black string panties.
“Slow and easy or fast and dirty,” he said softly.
“Fast and dirty,” she panted. He gripped one of the elastics lying across her hips and ripped it. She moaned and bucked as he did the same to the other side. He pulled at the ripped panties and threw them over his shoulder. He poured a bit of lube on two fingers and she spread her legs. He put one finger against her hole and pushed in. She bit her lip, holding back the moan that tried to escape her.
He thrust his finger in, quickly adding the second. She was unable to keep quiet as the second finger breached her. He leaned back over her and took her bottom lip into his mouth and suckled it. He spread his fingers in her, stretching the muscle. He twisted them and pushed up, brushing her prostate. She bucked on the bed. He gave a few more thrusts and pulled out. He pulled off his boxers and spread lube on himself, making a soft noise as he worked himself.
He lined up with her hole, teasing it with the head of his cock. She whimpered and tried to push herself onto him. He slid the head in slowly. He waited two heartbeats then slammed in fully. She lifted off the bed and wrapped her arms around him.
One of Dean’s hands wound into her hair as he kissed her. His other hand slipped down to the small of her back. She lifted herself up and dropped back down on him. He thrust his hips up, getting so deep inside her. Her cock was trapped between their stomachs.
She rocked faster and he pushed up harder. Their heavy breaths and soft moans echoed in the room.
“Faster,” he whispered against her lips. She was moving on him as fast as she could, making soft noises every time he brushed her prostate. The friction on her cock was pushing her to the edge.
Dean lurched forward, slamming Samantha’s back on the mattress. He pulled her legs up over his shoulders and pounded in as hard as he could.
“Come on, Sammy,” Dean panted, angling his hips and getting deeper.
“So close, Dean,” she groaned. “Oh God, so close.”
Dean was fighting off his orgasm, wanting Samantha to go first. But he could feel it building, coiling in his stomach. He snaked his hand in between their bodies and wrapped a hand around her cock. He gave it two hard strokes.
She shouted his name, and covered them both in ropes of white come. She tightened around Dean. He grunted loudly and filled her.
He pulled out gently and flopped beside her on the bed. They stared at each other as they came down.
“Am I out of the doghouse yet,” Dean said with a halfhearted smirk.
“I think so,” Samantha said as she leaned in and kissed Dean. She stifled a yawn.
“Bedtime,” Dean said as he pulled the sheet up over them.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Samantha awoke the next morning to the smell of coffee, bacon and scrambled eggs. She propped her head on one arm and watched Dean flip the bacon. She laughed as he jumped back from the grease.
“That’s why you’re supposed to wear a shirt while you cook bacon,” she mumbled. He looked over his shoulder at her.
“Bout time, sleepyhead,” Dean said. He dumped the bacon onto a plate and scooped the eggs out of the other fry pan. He carried over the large plate, pilled high with food. He set it on his side of the bed and kissed her on the forehead.
“Breakfast in bed,” she asked. “So what did you do wrong between last night’s amazing sex and two minutes ago?”
Dean pulled down the waistband of his pajama pants and pointed at a naked butt cheek.
“Kiss it. Right there, Sammy.” He pulled his pants up and mixed them both a cup of coffee. He came back to the bed with their coffees and forks. Dean sat on the bed carefully. Sam sat up, wrapping the sheet around her lap.
“Jane called,” Dean said around a mouthful of bacon. “Said she’ll be coming by today to drop off a book for you.”
“Think she’s just coming over to ogle you,” Samantha said with a laugh. Dean sighed and shook his head. The little redhead that Samantha became close to had a huge crush on Dean.
“Do you think if I told her I was gonna be a priest or something it would make her leave me alone?” Dean asked, feeding Samantha a forkful of eggs. Samantha shook her head, chewing the mouthful.
“Tried that already. It made her want to bring you back from the world of celibacy even more.”
“Then tell her that I already have the greatest girl in the world. You,” Dean leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
They finished their breakfast in bed exchanging half hearted barbs. Dean cleared up the dishes and left them in the sink. Samantha got dressed and tidied the apartment. She set one of the pillows on the couch and threw a blanket over the back of it.
The story was that Dean slept on the couch and Samantha had the bed. No one really asked, or cared, but they set that up just in case suspicions arose.
Samantha was partway through washing the dishes when there was an enthusiastic knock on the door.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Yes, I know I'm evil for ending it there! But stay tuned for the next part!
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Author: xephwrites
Pairings: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC17
Word Count:
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: None
Summary: It's been six months since Dean and Samantha left their old lives behind with John. Samantha has been living as a girl the entire time, and the two of them couldn't be happier.
Warnings: Fem!Sam, crossdressing, incest, underage, romance, graphic m/m sex
Notes: This is the first in a three fic arc tying Becoming Samantha, First Date, Emancipation Of Samantha Winchester to Dean's Girl. Many thanks to the lovely moonofblindness for the beta of this part! She is an amazing cheerleader, beta, alpha and support team wrapped up in one lovely package! (And I probably just embarrassed the crap out of her as well! MWAH!)
~*~*~*~*~*~
Since they left John, Samantha felt happy for the first time in her life. She left all of her boy clothes behind with their father, and that was liberating.
With the help of a few contacts Dean was able to retain, her school records and all ID were changed. Samuel Winchester no longer existed.
They found a nice quiet town to settle in. After a few weeks of staying in a small motel, Dean was able to find a room for them.
And that’s all it was; a large room with a kitchenette and a tiny bathroom off to the side. It was not much better than a motel room, but it was theirs. It was above the garage that Dean managed to get a job at. They worked him hard, but the pay was good. Samantha had suspicions that the apartment wasn’t legal, but it was all they could get.
Her new school was very much like every other school she had been to before. She didn’t quite fit in with the popular kids, but she didn’t fade into the background either. She found a few friendly people, but she still remained reserved.
She was too afraid of people finding out her secret.
She was careful, very careful. She always declined dates from boys and rarely went out with the few female friends she had. Dean had to push her out of their tiny apartment once, making her go shopping with a friend at the mall.
Samantha had finished her last exam of the year, and she was exhausted. She stretched the normally ten minute walk from the school to home out to near a half hour. The large garage doors were open, and the sound of power tools and heavy metal music spilled out into the street.
“Hey,” she called into the garage, stepping inside carefully. Steven poked his head out of the tiny office.
“Sorry, Samantha,” he said. “Dean cut his hand, I sent him home early.”
“Okay,” she said, taking a wide step to avoid a pool of spilled oil. Steven chuckled.
“Watch it. Don’t want to get those pretty shoes all mucked up,” Steven said, waving at her.
She took the metal stairs leading up the side of the building two at a time. Good thing she wore her capris today.
The hallway was dark as her eyes adjusted to the lack of sunlight. She walked quickly to the end one, trying to ignore the smells seeping out from the other apartments. Their door was unlocked.
“Dean,” she called as she stepped in. Dean was sitting on the couch, his left hand with a bandage wrapped around it.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean said, dropping his feet off the milk crate that served as a coffee table and ottoman.
“What did you do?” She sat beside him, taking his hand and inspecting the bandage. Dean chuckled.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Just caught the edge of a broken muffler bracket,” Dean stared at the panicked look in Samantha’s eyes. “I went to the hospital, got it cleaned, and no stitches. I’ll be fine in a few days.” His good hand came up to cup the side of her face. She leaned into the touch.
“I know you’re okay,” she said, placing a kiss on his palm. “Did it have to be today?” She looked at him with a pout.
“Why, what’s today?”
Sam’s mouth opened in shock. There was no way Dean didn’t know what today was. Disappointment filled her.
The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched and she caught a flash of mischief in his eyes. She shoved him in the chest playfully.
“Jerk!”
“Did you honestly think that I’d forget today?” he laughed and tried to tickle her side with his good hand. She squirmed out of his grasp laughing.
They fell onto the floor tangled in each other.
“Six months,” she said. Dean kissed the tip of her nose.
“Told you we’d make it,” he said, feathering kisses across her cheeks. She smiled and captured Dean’s lips in a kiss. It was soft and inviting. Dean kissed back, running his tongue along her bottom lip.
Samantha opened her mouth and let their tongues slide together. Dean’s good hand ran down the side of her neck and rested on the strap of her tank top. His fingertips danced on her shoulder as his mouth moved across her jaw and down her neck.
She moaned softly and started tugging on his shirt, trying to work it off of Dean. Dean chuckled and pulled away from her.
“Not yet,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose once again. “Later.”
Samantha pouted and tried to pull Dean back on top of her. Dean chuckled as he gave her one last kiss on her forehead before using his good hand to pull himself up off the floor. He held his hand out to Samantha to pull her off the floor.
“So, no more school until September,” Dean said, pulling her in for a hug. Samantha nodded against his chest. “How are we going to celebrate,” he mused with a playful tone in his voice.
“Sex?” Samantha asked. Dean chuckled and shook his head.
“Look on the bed,” he whispered in her ear. Samantha pulled out of his arms and walked around the couch to their bed. A large white box was lying on the center. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.
Dean nodded towards it, watching her intently. Samantha smiled and opened the lid on the box. She gasped when she saw what was inside.
Inside was a burgundy lace dress. It looked like it would fall to just below Samantha’s knees, and it had bell sleeves.
“Dean, it’s beautiful,” she said, carefully taking the dress out of the box.
“There’s more,” Dean came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
As Samantha unfolded the dress, an envelope fell to the mattress. She picked it up with a raised eyebrow. Dean smiled as she opened it and saw the contents.
“Midsummer Night’s Dream tickets,” she squealed. She jumped into Dean’s arms, kissing him. Dean chuckled.
“Come on,” Dean said, kissing her on the lips. “We’ve gotta get ready if we’re going to make the dinner reservation.” Dean unwound the bandage around his hand. He held up his palm and wiggled his fingers at Samantha.
His hand was not cut.
“Got Steven in on it,” Dean smirked.
“Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” Samantha scolded. Dean laughed as he ducked a halfhearted slap.
“Come on,” he said, picking up a dry cleaning bag. “Get dressed. Can’t wait to see how good you’re going to look in it.”
They dressed on opposite sides of the bed, sneaking glances at each other.
Samantha took a moment to admire her brother. He was wearing a navy blue dress shirt, black dress pants with a matching two button vest. He held up two ties.
“Black one or blue striped?” he asked. Samantha shook her head.
“No tie,” she said as she tried to reach around to the zipper at the back. Dean tossed them both on the old dresser and rounded the bed. He tugged up Samantha’s zipper carefully, placing a kiss on the back of her neck. She turned to face him.
It looked better than he imagined. The burgundy made her skin almost glow. The lace fell so naturally against her frame.
“You’re so beautiful,” Dean whispered, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. She smiled.
“Thank you for the dress,” Samantha said. She pulled away from Dean and headed to the bathroom.
“Don’t take too long with the warpaint,” Dean groaned as he began searching for his keys and wallet. She looked over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out playfully. “Stick it out again, and I’ll make you use it,” he said as she closed the bathroom door.
She picked through the makeup bag and tried to match eye shadow to her dress. She settled on steel blue. She used a bit of foundation to cover the few freckles on the bridge of her nose from the spring sun. She smiled as she unwrapped her new wine colored lipstick.
Dean was looking out the window nervously and checking his watch. He was muttering under his breath when Samantha wound her arms around his waist.
“Ready?”
Dean shook his head, still staring out the window. She narrowed her eyes at him.
A minute later, Dean mumbled, “Finally,” and wrapped an arm around her, leading her out of their apartment. They ignored the shouts from one of their neighbors’ apartments and opened the heavy metal door leading to the steps.
Waiting at the bottom of the stairs was a black Lincoln Town Car.
“You didn’t,” she said, trying not to run down the stairs.
“Hey, if I’m taking my girl out to celebrate, I’m doing it in style,” he said, following after her. The driver stepped out and held open the passenger door. He held out a white gloved hand to help Samantha in.
Once seated, Samantha sighed wistfully.
“How are you going to top this for the one year mark,” she asked playfully. Dean shrugged.
“Got another six months to work that out,” he said as he placed a hand on her knee.
The driver took the county road leading to the small city twenty miles away. In the back seat, Samantha and Dean held hands, sharing Eskimo kisses. Dean caught the gaze and smile of the driver in the rearview mirror.
Once in the small city, Samantha was glued to the window. Between her school and Dean’s job, they never had a chance to come. Dean had promised her that they would spend a weekend here at one of the hotels. Hotel, not little fleabag motel
The driver parked in front of D’Azevedo’s. Samantha had seen advertisements in the local newspaper for it, and it was high class. The driver exited the car and held open Samantha’s door, helping her out of the backseat.
“’Bout an hour and a half,” Dean said as he stepped out. The driver gave a quick nod and tip of his hat. Samantha took Dean’s hand as they walked up to the restaurant.
Inside, they were greeted by a tiny man in a tuxedo. He smiled at them.
“Reservation for two,” Dean said, sneaking a wink at Samantha.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Winchester,” the Maitre’d said with a heavy European accent. “A special night, no?” He nodded at Samantha, who couldn’t help but blush.
“Yes, Armand, it is,” Dean said. Samantha looked questioningly at Dean. “Tell you later,” he whispered as Armand led them through the restaurant.
They were seated in a raised booth at the back of the restaurant, near the kitchen doors. A bottle of champagne was already there, on ice, waiting for them. There was a small bouquet of calla lilies on the table surrounded by several small glass candle holders. Armand motioned for Samantha to take a seat. She slid onto the plush velvet bench, eyes wide as she took in the scene. Dean slid in across from her. Armand opened the bottle of champagne and poured two glasses.
“The specials this evening are an eight ounce New York strip with vegetables, and chicken parmesan with salad. Would you like a menu?”
Dean looked to Samantha. She knew he would be ordering the steak.
“I think I will have the chicken parmesan,” Samantha said, taking her flute glass. Dean smiled.
“I’ll take the New York strip, medium rare please,” Dean said. “And some bacon scallops to start.” Armand gave a short nod and walked off to the kitchen.
“Okay, explain,” Samantha said with a smirk. She took a sip of the champagne and waited.
“Armand had a huge carburetor problem, and I fixed it,” Dean picked up his glass. “And I got rid of the ghost terrorizing this restaurant,” he added quickly, downing the glass.
“Are you kidding me,” she hissed. “You said, hell, you swore that you wouldn’t hunt ever again!”
Dean avoided her glare as he refilled his glass.
“I couldn’t let him suffer, especially when it was such an easy one,” Dean said, holding the bottle to Samantha. She crossed her arms and shook her head.
“When were you planning on telling me?”
Dean shrugged. Samantha rolled her eyes.
“I’m in the doghouse, aren’t I?” he asked, risking making eye contact. Her lips were pressed in a hard line, but her eyes were soft.
“You are buying me the biggest slice of chocolate cheesecake this place has,” Samantha said. Dean smiled. He watched as the corners of her mouth twitched, trying not to smile back at him.
“It’s not that bad,” Dean said. “We’re getting an amazing meal out of it.”
Samantha smiled.
“Your scallops,” Armand said as he placed the plate between them. There were a dozen scallops, some fried quail eggs and several strips of bacon.
“Am I forgiven?” Dean held out his fork with a piece of scallop and bacon on it. Samantha leaned forward and ate it. She closed her eyes and hummed as she chewed.
“Ask me after the cheesecake,” she said. Dean laughed as he took some for himself.
“So, am I going to spend the entire play translating for you?” Samantha asked after they finished the appetizers.
“Nope, it’s one of those modernized dialogue ones. No thou’s and all that crap.” Dean took her hand and brushed his thumb along her knuckles.
“Cheater,” she laughed.
“Damn right,” Dean refilled Samantha’s glass. “Anyways, only certain plays of his still work in Old English. Like Macbeth.”
Samantha sighed and rested her chin on her hand.
“You’re just saying that to sound smart.”
Dean shrugged and kissed the back of her hand.
“Chicken parmesan for the beautiful lady,” Armand said as he placed a plate in front of Samantha. “Medium rare strip for the gentleman.” Armand gave a half bow. “Enjoy.”
It was the best meal Samantha had ever had. They ate in comfortable silence, sharing the occasional bite from each other’s plate.
“I don’t think I could handle that cheesecake right now,” Samantha groaned. “Too full.”
Dean placed his napkin on the table beside his plate. He refilled Samantha’s glass.
“Are you trying to get me tipsy and take advantage of me,” she said playfully, sipping at her once again full glass. Dean emptied the bottle into his glass.
“Don’t need to get you drunk for that,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her. She giggled and finished her champagne, thankful that she wasn’t wearing heels, just in case.
“How was everything,” Armand asked as a busboy began clearing the table.
“It was wonderful,” Samantha gushed.
“Anytime you two like, please come back. And Mr. Winchester, I insist next time you take the chef’s table.”
“Thanks, Armand. But tonight we wanted something private,” Dean said, digging out his wallet. When he opened it, Armand held up his hand.
“This is my thanks for taking care of the…problem,” Armand said lowering his voice. “You and your beautiful lady have a magical evening.”
They said their goodbyes. Dean helped Samantha out of the booth.
“I think I may have had a little too much champagne,” she giggled.
“Are you drunk,” he teased.
“No, just…light,” she giggled.
Outside the restaurant, the driver was waiting for them. He opened the door for them, and drove them to the theatre. It wasn’t a lavish building, but it had the lighted awning, gold trimmed glass doors and red carpet.
“Just like in movies,” Samantha said, linking her arm through Dean’s as they walked up to the doorman. He took their tickets and handed them to an usher in a red jacket.
The theatre was set up like a traditional Shakespearian theatre, circular stage, and small second story. They were seated in the front row.
“I love you,” Samantha said as she rested her head on Dean’s shoulder.
“I love you too,” Dean said as the lights dimmed.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Dean pushed Samantha against the apartment door, his lips on hers. He fumbled trying to slide the deadbolt across. She tore at the buttons of his vest, trying not to rip the fabric. When the deadbolt slid home, he leaned down, wrapping his arm around her knees and lifting her. She buried her face into his neck, kissing and biting as he carried her across the room to their bed.
He placed her back on her feet at the foot of the bed. He kissed her again, his hands winding around to her back, finding the zipper of her dress. He tugged it down and helped her shrug out of the dress. Not breaking their kiss, they both worked at the buttons of Dean’s shirt.
They laughed softly into each other’s mouths as they tried to step out of shoes and pull down Dean’s dress pants. Dean pulled them onto the bed and rolled so he was above her.
“There was a lot of innuendo in that play,” Dean said, kissing a line down her neck. She laughed.
“Does Shakespeare get you hot?” She gasped as Dean bit her collar bone.
“Not even a little bit,” he said against her skin. “But you get me hot.” He mouthed down her chest, savoring the taste of her skin. He took a nipple into his mouth and laved it gently. She pushed up into the touch. He moved further down to her stomach.
“I think champagne makes you horny,” Dean said, circling her belly button with his tongue.
“Didn’t help you had that extra bottle hidden in the car,” she got out between pants.
One of Dean’s hands reached out to the milk crate beside the bed, searching for the lube. Finding it, he sat back on his knees. He stared at Samantha’s cock peeking out from the elastic of her black string panties.
“Slow and easy or fast and dirty,” he said softly.
“Fast and dirty,” she panted. He gripped one of the elastics lying across her hips and ripped it. She moaned and bucked as he did the same to the other side. He pulled at the ripped panties and threw them over his shoulder. He poured a bit of lube on two fingers and she spread her legs. He put one finger against her hole and pushed in. She bit her lip, holding back the moan that tried to escape her.
He thrust his finger in, quickly adding the second. She was unable to keep quiet as the second finger breached her. He leaned back over her and took her bottom lip into his mouth and suckled it. He spread his fingers in her, stretching the muscle. He twisted them and pushed up, brushing her prostate. She bucked on the bed. He gave a few more thrusts and pulled out. He pulled off his boxers and spread lube on himself, making a soft noise as he worked himself.
He lined up with her hole, teasing it with the head of his cock. She whimpered and tried to push herself onto him. He slid the head in slowly. He waited two heartbeats then slammed in fully. She lifted off the bed and wrapped her arms around him.
One of Dean’s hands wound into her hair as he kissed her. His other hand slipped down to the small of her back. She lifted herself up and dropped back down on him. He thrust his hips up, getting so deep inside her. Her cock was trapped between their stomachs.
She rocked faster and he pushed up harder. Their heavy breaths and soft moans echoed in the room.
“Faster,” he whispered against her lips. She was moving on him as fast as she could, making soft noises every time he brushed her prostate. The friction on her cock was pushing her to the edge.
Dean lurched forward, slamming Samantha’s back on the mattress. He pulled her legs up over his shoulders and pounded in as hard as he could.
“Come on, Sammy,” Dean panted, angling his hips and getting deeper.
“So close, Dean,” she groaned. “Oh God, so close.”
Dean was fighting off his orgasm, wanting Samantha to go first. But he could feel it building, coiling in his stomach. He snaked his hand in between their bodies and wrapped a hand around her cock. He gave it two hard strokes.
She shouted his name, and covered them both in ropes of white come. She tightened around Dean. He grunted loudly and filled her.
He pulled out gently and flopped beside her on the bed. They stared at each other as they came down.
“Am I out of the doghouse yet,” Dean said with a halfhearted smirk.
“I think so,” Samantha said as she leaned in and kissed Dean. She stifled a yawn.
“Bedtime,” Dean said as he pulled the sheet up over them.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Samantha awoke the next morning to the smell of coffee, bacon and scrambled eggs. She propped her head on one arm and watched Dean flip the bacon. She laughed as he jumped back from the grease.
“That’s why you’re supposed to wear a shirt while you cook bacon,” she mumbled. He looked over his shoulder at her.
“Bout time, sleepyhead,” Dean said. He dumped the bacon onto a plate and scooped the eggs out of the other fry pan. He carried over the large plate, pilled high with food. He set it on his side of the bed and kissed her on the forehead.
“Breakfast in bed,” she asked. “So what did you do wrong between last night’s amazing sex and two minutes ago?”
Dean pulled down the waistband of his pajama pants and pointed at a naked butt cheek.
“Kiss it. Right there, Sammy.” He pulled his pants up and mixed them both a cup of coffee. He came back to the bed with their coffees and forks. Dean sat on the bed carefully. Sam sat up, wrapping the sheet around her lap.
“Jane called,” Dean said around a mouthful of bacon. “Said she’ll be coming by today to drop off a book for you.”
“Think she’s just coming over to ogle you,” Samantha said with a laugh. Dean sighed and shook his head. The little redhead that Samantha became close to had a huge crush on Dean.
“Do you think if I told her I was gonna be a priest or something it would make her leave me alone?” Dean asked, feeding Samantha a forkful of eggs. Samantha shook her head, chewing the mouthful.
“Tried that already. It made her want to bring you back from the world of celibacy even more.”
“Then tell her that I already have the greatest girl in the world. You,” Dean leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
They finished their breakfast in bed exchanging half hearted barbs. Dean cleared up the dishes and left them in the sink. Samantha got dressed and tidied the apartment. She set one of the pillows on the couch and threw a blanket over the back of it.
The story was that Dean slept on the couch and Samantha had the bed. No one really asked, or cared, but they set that up just in case suspicions arose.
Samantha was partway through washing the dishes when there was an enthusiastic knock on the door.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Yes, I know I'm evil for ending it there! But stay tuned for the next part!
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