i was just happy, my manic and i
Title: i was just happy, my manic and i
Author: Liv
Fandom: Supernatural/Firefly
Characters: Sam Winchester/River Tam, Luis, Bobby Singer, Simon Tam, Shepherd Book, Mr./Mrs. Tam
30-kisses Prompt: 14. radio cassette player
Rating: R
Warnings: general spoilers, Sam's pov.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or Firefly. Any characters you don’t recognize are original and should not be used without my permission. I don't own the song lyrics, Laura Marling does.
Author’s Note: Luis is Sam’s black friend from the pilot episode. I figured the only reason they might be friends is if he was Sam’s roommate in past. I almost want to make it longer, but I don’t feel like it.
Taken from my 1sentence claim, #41.
He meets her in class at the Academy. Philosophy. Something he loved and loathed, because the professor kind of made him want to take a nap or punch someone in the neck and the text kind of made him want to do great things or cut out someone‘s spleen. She was beautiful, wearing a dress made out of wool and satin, her dark hair curled over her shoulder as she took the seat next to him, mouthing an apology because she was five minutes late. Sam noticed the dance bag she dropped at her feet, letting her book bag slip from her shoulder and fall into her lap as she sat down, strands of her hair flying against his face and smelling like expensive perfume.
And Hell would have him if he didn’t love her instantly. He didn’t pay attention to the lecture; instead he kept sneaking glances at her whenever she was too busy looking at her source box, when someone coughed, when he scratched his nose. She was far more interesting than an hour and a half lecture on Perception and whether it was a young woman or an old woman in the picture. This topic had to be the only thing in half a millennia that hadn’t changed from its beginning on Earth-That-Was.
After class, in the hoard of people leaving the auditorium, he was pressed against her back as the crowd shuffled out the doors. The minute the sun hit their faces, bright and blinding and clear she was gone from his side and laughing with a small redhead in a leotard and board shorts. Sure he might have looked creepy staring at her as he went to grab coffee, but he hadn’t wanted anything this much since he got accepted to the Core Academies.
He sees her again in his OCHeM class four hours later (almost forgotten her, his heart skips a beat or two or ten when he recognizes the perfume in the air and how oh how has he never noticed her in the two months he‘s been in this class?), but this times she’s the TA and he nearly has a heart attack when she starts correcting the professor when he doesn’t even understand what’s going on. And almost like she can hear his internal cries for help, she sits down next to him, smiling like sunshine and he forgets what’s so bad about organic chemistry as long as she keeps smiling at him. She brushes her hair behind her ear, blushing for some reason and pulls his book towards her and a highlighter out of her bag.
“Professor Campbell is serious about trick questions,” she says, highlighting a few paragraphs while he stares at her like a moron. What would Dean say if he saw him like this? His brother would probably sleep with her in his bed and that train of thought snaps him back to reality. Rule of law: Keep Dean away from girlfriends, girl friends and girls of potential in either category.
“I’m Sam,” he says, blinks, and realizes he’s totally interrupted her. She sort of laughs at him, but it makes him forget to look embarrassed. She holds out her hand for him to take.
“’M River.”
He doesn’t know how, but by some twist of fate he’s actually gotten her to agree to go on a date with him. Because he likes her, he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, so he takes her to the one place most of his girlfriend’s fail. The shooting range.
“You’re kidding,” she says, laughing when she spots the entrance to the range Bobby owns. The older man is waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest looking uncle-like and sarcasm waiting to happen. Sam grins at her.
“You did agree to go out with me.”
“I was thinking more like…movie?” she says, still laughing. Her hair’s curled around her shoulder, like she took the time to look pretty for him, but she’s not wearing heels, so she won’t accidentally kill herself. Which is good. Her eyes narrow playfully at him. “Unless…are you testing me?”
“Might be.”
“You question my awesomeness?” He’s learned quickly that she thinks very highly of herself, so he makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and parks. Bobby waves at him, pulling a cigarette out of his mouth and crushing it against the side of his house. River notices him wave back and tilts her head. “Come here often?”
“I practically grew up here,” says Sam before really thinking. She frowns at him, analyzing, but he clears his throat quickly and shrugs. “Bobby’s almost family.”
“Family doesn’t end with blood,” she chirps, opening her door and hopping out, leaving him to stare at her with his mouth kind of hanging open, because that’s what Bobby used to tell him ‘n Dean when they were kids.
“Hey, Bobby,” calls Sam the second he manages to stop staring and get his ass out of the car.
“Sam, hear from your daddy recently?”
“Nah, Dean ’ll call eventually.” shrugs Sam, waving off the information and glancing at River, who’s squatting down to scratch Bobby’s weimaraner behind the ears, earning herself kisses that leave her squealing and smiling. Bobby looks at her and then at Sam, raising an eyebrow in question.
“Bobby, this is River Tam. River, this is Bobby Singer.”
“I’ve heard of you,” says River, managing to escape the tongue bath and to stand up. “You fought in the war. Independence. You punched General Chow in the face during the peace talks.”
“How do you think I ended up on Osiris, darlin‘?” but he’s not being snide, so River smiles at him, almost knowingly and turns to Sam.
“Were you planning on teaching me how to shoot?”
He’s pressed behind her, hands on her hips, angling her up with the target. He’s touching her more than he needs too, but she seems to be a bit out of breath so he doesn’t stop. He likes the feel of her too much, the smell of her hair warmed by the sun. His fingers graze along the exposed skin under her shirt and above her jeans. She can’t hide the shudder when she’s pressed against him, and he almost misses the way her eyes close when he shifts behind her. She misses the bulls-eye twice when he’s close enough to her to feel the heat from her body. He suspects it might have been on purpose.
Because after that she owns his ass.
He takes her back to her dorm late in the night, after dinner somewhere cheap and quick where they wouldn’t be bothered. They talk for hours, about everything from their siblings to music to the schools they went to. He tells her about his mother and she puts her hand over his and doesn’t move it for the rest of the night. She tells him what it’s like to be the smartest person in every room, and he laces their fingers together, because he knows what it’s like to know things that other people don’t.
He walks her to her door in an easy silence, preparing to ask her out again, when she spins around, stopping him in his tracks and pulls him closer by the front of his shirt, kissing him hard and eagerly. His hand automatically falls to her waist, pulling her flush against him and kisses her back with equal force. They somehow end up pressed against her door, his hand up her shirt and pressed against her back and she’s hooked a leg around his calf, one hand tangled in his hair and the other curled around one of his belt loops. It’s impossible to hide is erection from her when she’s so close, but he doesn’t want to push her and this might be taking things a little fast. He pulls away from her and she actually whines, her swollen lips falling into a pout that looks completely unintentional. He has to swallow back his desire, but before he can pull away further her leg’s hitched higher around his waist and he’s groaning, pressed against her. He can feel her heat through their jeans, his libido telling him that she wants this just as much as he does.
“River-”
“My roommate’s gone for the weekend,” she says with a shrug. “Just so you know.”
He stares at her, flushed cheeks and mused hair and the smell of sex in the air. He cracks a smirk that Dean would be proud of and slides his hand down her back and under her ass, gripping her thigh.
“Then we should probably get out of the hallway.”
Her window’s open, sun shining through the green curtain and playing against her bare skin when he wakes up. Or, more like when he realizes he’s awake and that yes, he really did just have the best first date ever. He props himself up on his elbow, staring down at River, lying on her stomach, cheek pillowed against her arm. His fingertips drawing patterns on her skin of their own accord, and then he’s pressing his mouth against her shoulder, against her neck. Her nose bumps against he’s in greeting, having woken up sometime while he was watching her sleep. She kisses him slowly, turning over on her back until he’s hovering over her, one hand kneading her breast while the other curls around her elbow.
The source box on her desk goes off rather loudly; but they don’t break apart until the wave starts and the sound of an older male’s voice filters through.
“River, it’s Simon. Don’t forget dinner next Friday with the Whitlock’s. Mother will be furious if you decide to skive off another one of her precious dinner parties. Bring a date if you want to piss her off so much.”
There was a pause, someone muttering on the other side of the line, a chuckle and then ‘Simon’ was back, an obvious grin on his face as he spoke.
“It was Sam you were speaking to me about, wasn’t it? Bring him.”
“Who’s Simon?” breathes Sam, eyeing the source box warily. River smirks into his hair, shifting her body under his until he’s cradled between her thighs.
“My brother. I did mention him you know.” Sam hums in remembrance, and then frowns. “You told your brother about me?” asks Sam, his mouth brushing against her jaw, eyes still on the source box on the desk.
“I tell my brother everything,” she counters, lifting her hips up and drawing his attention back to her. “And he reciprocates.”
Sam grins down at her, leaning down to kiss her and resume what was starting to be a fantastic morning.
What was a fantastic morning turned into a fantastic day, and a fantastic weekend, only interrupted by River’s roommate who flew through the door at ten Sunday night, to find Sam shirtless and lounging in a desk chair with River straddling his lap trying to convince him not to go home. He left shortly after that, with an awkward wave to the roommate and a lingering kiss with River at the door with plans to meet for coffee in the morning before classes.
His roommate laughs at him when he comes home at ten thirty and drops onto his bed like a rock, asking if he had a good weekend. He can’t even reply he’s smiling into his mattress so hard. He finds he can’t breathe in the morning, and he can’t tell if it’s because he dreamed of fire or because he dreamed of River. Either way he wakes up breathless and gasping and the suns aren’t even up yet.
Sam gets to the coffee stand twenty minutes before he’s supposed to meet River (mostly because he can’t function without coffee and mostly because he’s anxious), so he wakes Luis up and tells him to meet him, but he only has to wait about ten before River comes ‘round the corner in a beige pilot jacket and skin tight jeans, her hair in a high ponytail, swinging around her shoulders. She looks cold and sleepy, but when she sees him waiting for her, her expression brightens considerably and she practically skips over to him, sliding her arm around one of his and kissing him breathless. He doesn’t even care that Luis’ just looked over at him and is trying not to gape.
Sam hears him clear his throat as River pulls away from him with swollen lips and a content look on her face. He turns to his friend.
“Luis, this is River. River, this is my roommate Luis.”
She gives Luis a less brilliant but still polite smile and a small wave, before she notices Sam’s got coffee in his hand. She grabbed his wrist and takes a sniff of the black black black coffee he drinks and makes a face, making him grin (because no one can stand the way he takes his coffee). She detaches herself from him long enough to order a coffee, and he pretends she’s pretending she can’t hear what Luis says about her ass.
He has class in thirty minutes (otherwise she never would have gotten up at the ass crack of dawn just to get coffee, she assures him) and she mumbles something about a dance class and the library. They walk past a preacher standing at the edge of the grassy mall separating the student dorms and the physics building (like a giant warning to all who pass by; filled with people playing extreme Frisbee and the dangers of people on bikes who could care less about pedestrians and really, it’s a wonder no one’s died this year yet trying to cross) and Sam listens with one ear when River stops to pick up a mini symbol and flip through it.
The preacher is an older black man with his gray hair tied at the back of his head. River slips her hand into Sam’s when she stops on a page that interests her.
“If I was an asshole I’d totally be fixing this,” she mutters under her breath for only Sam to hear. He tries not to snort. The preacher looks at him.
“What’s your name, son?” Sam blinks at him.
“It’s ah…Sam.” River removes three fingers from the scripture and waves them at the holy man, eyes still glued on the page, her lips barely moving as she corrects the text in her head. The preacher nods at her in greeting and looks back at Sam.
“Do you practice, Sam?”
“Yeah, sure, if I had time,” says Sam with a shrug, which would be true, because he believes in something, he has to, after what he’s seen. He can’t bring himself to go to church, but he knows Latin and keeps holy water and a cross in a pine box under his bed. The preacher looks at him steadily.
“This place, it’s only the beginning, don’t take what they teach you hear to heart, son. The lord has things to teach us that can be used until the day you die-”
“Bored,” interrupts River, closing the symbol and handing it back. The preacher smiles at her kindly and pushed the book back into her hand.
“You keep it, child.”
River gives him a smile that Sam can tell is trying not to look too freaked out. “Thanks…”
“Book,” finished the preacher. “Shepherd Book.”
River manages not to roll her eyes and snort until they’re out of earshot, which he thinks is very impressive and tells her so. She curtsy’s for him.
“Sorry,” she says after a moment, curling some of the hair that had fallen out of its ponytail behind her ear. He looks at her strangely.
“For what?”
“You’re a believer and I’m ruining your hopes and dreams with my logic,” she says with a shrug, and yeah, she kind of over did that statement, but he feels as if something profound just happened.
He kisses her in front of the door to his next class for so long he’s seven minutes late and has to flip off several people in order to get anything done.
She meets him outside his class when it’s over, leaning against the stair railing wearing tights and boots and something that might be able to pass for a t-shirt if she were a hooker. Maybe. She’s getting looks from just about everyone as they mob out of class, and he gets a few smirks when he walks up to her, wraps an arm around her waist and lifts her onto the railing; kissing her long and hard, like they’ve been apart for days instead of ninety minutes of calculus hell.
She has three dance classes lumped together in an hour, so they go back to his dorm room and make out on his bed, which turns into heavy petting, which turns into very loud sex (in which they crack a mirror, break his lamp and will probably end up giggling whenever Luis sits down at his desk for the rest of the year) and missing her first class.
He gets high fives for the rest of the day from the guys on his floor, the ones above and the ones below. River laughs so hard when he tells her that he tosses Luis’ inhaler at her chest and tells her dryly not to kill herself.
She sleeps over on Tuesday because they don’t have any classes remotely close to each other. Luis is so high he doesn’t know his own name, let alone what they’re doing in the bed next to him. He wakes up to her raiding his closet for anything appropriate for him to wear to dinner. He reminds her groggily that they have Philosophy and OCHeM that day, and he has study group at 1. She waves off his talk of school with a ‘I have a ballet performance assignment in an hour, who gorram cares?’. He rolls his eyes and drops his head back into his pillow without even asking how she knows she’s got a ‘pop quiz’.
She resurfaces from his closet with her face screwed up in disgust, but successful, holding up a pair of dark jeans and a green button down that he never wears.
“So…” he begins quietly, leaning back in his chair in Philosophy, ignoring their professor drone on and on about the exact same thing he was going on about yesterday. River’s sitting next to him, on time, her fingers toying with the hairs on his neck as they don’t pay attention to the lecture. She hums in response, prompting him on. He takes a deep breath and starts again. “So…you’re family rich.”
She snorts at his choice of words, and tugs on his hair, getting him to look at her. “Yeah,” she says with a slow nod. “And they’ll judge you, but not because of your social stat- actually that’s a lie, they totally will,” she amends quickly. “But they’ll be more concerned about you being a man and I’m bringing you home, then how you grew up.”
He doesn’t look so convinced, so she kisses away the uncertainty. Then tells him to be ready by 7 and for the love of god take a shower.
They take a cab, because he can’t afford the gas in her part of town and she really doesn’t want him to kill them because he’s so nervous. And when the driver pulls in front of her house he’s glad he didn’t drive because holy go se.
At least it’s River’s mother who opens the door and not a maid or a butler, because he’s sweating enough as it is thanks very much. River has his hand in hers, and smiles brightly up at him before jerking into her house.
“Mum, this is Sam,” she introduces him and he manages to keep his hand from shaking or sweating too badly as he holds it out for Mrs. Tam to shake. She does, and then Mr. Tam walks in and pulls River into a tight hug with something that could be a joke mumbled into her ear that makes her laugh.
But then he looks over her shoulder at Sam and suddenly all the air is gone from the foyer in a rush. River pulls away from her father and stands in front of her parents, like she’s presenting him.
“Dad, this is my boyfriend, Sam Winchester.”
He moves closer to the safety net emitting serenity and ‘don’t fuck with my boyfriend’ vibes that is River. And he’s standing behind her in the clothes she picked out for him; trying very, very hard not to start chanting in Latin in case this is a trap and everybody’s a demon and they want to eat his brains. Mrs. Tam looks friendly but gives River a look after he smiles awkwardly after his introduction, and Mr. Tam just stares at him hard, like he knows Sam’s been fucking his daughter all week, but then River squeals ‘Simon!’ and jumps into the arms of a man who’s got to be her older brother.
“Look who finally bothers to come home.” but Simon is so obviously happy to see her that the sarcasm is completely lost. River doesn’t even bother to return with a sassy remark as she pulls away, her smile nearly breaking her face in two. She backs up a few steps and turns to Sam, her hair whirling around in mimic with her dress as she grabs Sam’s hand and pulls him forward toward her brother. She can’t seem to hide the affection she has for her boyfriend (Sam inwardly grows warm and comfy at the idea of being her boyfriend, that is how she introduced him to her parents, after all, so why not embrace it?) in the happiness of seeing her brother. With grace that only River seems to possess, she twirls back to her brother’s side and tugs on the cuff of his shirt.
“Simon, this is Sam.”
“He’s….tall.” River elbows her brother in the ribs and rolls her eyes a little too hard to be just for Sam’s benefit. The light in her eyes had dimmed slightly, and maybe it’s only him and Simon who notices, because a friendly, honest smile spreads over his face and he holds out his hand for Sam to take. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam.”
Suddenly Sam realizes that Simon’s opinion of him is the only one that matters to River and he’s a bit more than relieved to admit that he finds Simon pleasant. Sort of uptight and less amusing then River, but not altogether unpleasant. He shrugs and takes the elder Tam siblings hand.
“I doubt you’d be surprised with how much I get that.”
“Well,” interrupts Mrs. Tam, clapping her hands together once, briskly, looking from her eldest child to her youngest. “Shall we sit for dinner?”
“What about the Whitlock’s, Mother?” asks River, though not really all that curiously.
“Oh, they had to cancel, poor Tina has the flu.”
“Lucky Tina,” mutters River under her breath, but it’s not quiet enough for Mrs. Tam to pretend she didn’t hear her without being rude, still, she ignores her only daughters comment and gestures Sam toward the dining room.
“Sam,” begins Mrs. Tam politely, adjusting a fork as she passes a plate setting on her way to her chair. River rolls her eyes and flips the same fork completely horizontal. Her actions are ignored. “You go to school with River?”
“Yes, ma’am,” says Sam politely. They all sit at the perfectly arranged table and he feels like he just jumped into a shark tank with multiple lacerations, wearing a seal costume and skirt made of fish.
“What are you studying?” asks Mr. Tam, Sam glances at River, but she looks like she’s trying to keep a headache at bay so he’s not getting any help from her. He looks at Mr. Tam and again replies in a polite tone.
“Pre Law.”
“And your parents? What do they do?”
“Well, my mother died when I was a baby,” River’s fingers twitch, like she wants to reach out and grab his hand. “And my father fought in the Unification war.” he pauses. “He was part of the Pterodactyl brigade.”
Simon chokes on his drink, snorting up a bit of liquid as he laughs into his glass. River’s kept herself more composed, but Sam can see the results of that effort in the tears glazing her eyes. Mr. Tam manages to look amused for a moment, but Mrs. Tam just looks unimpressed. Simon has to excuse himself to refill his drink and returns composed save for the twinkle in his eyes.
The conversation is subpar as dinner is served, River talks about her classes, Simon speaks about his work, they squabble back and forth about a program River is thinking of taking over the summer. Mr. Tam asks Sam more about his Law degree, even mentions a few professors he knows who Sam might be interested in talking to. The conversation lulls as everyone eats, until Simon places his silverware on his plate and picks up his drink.
“So,” says Simon easily, leaning back in his chair with his drink cradled against his chest. Then, as calmly as if he was talking about the weather- “You’re sleeping with my sister, then?”
Mrs. Tam misses her plate with her knife and cuts through the table cloth and dents the wood beneath it, Mr. Tam chokes on his own drink and has to excuse himself from the table (Sam could swear he’s humming quietly just in case Sam answer’s before he’s out of the room), River promptly chucks a roll at her brother which he easily dodges, but doesn’t manage to miss the carrot and swears under his breath as it nails him in the eye. Sam just shakes his head, a smile creeping onto his face. He knows an over protective older brother threat when he hears one.
“That sounds like something my brother would open with,” he comments, glancing at River. “Dean would totally think you’re taking away my innocence.” then turns back to Sam and very seriously says with a cheeky smile on his face, “It wouldn’t be his business either, of course.”
“Well played,” murmurs River around the edge of her water glass. “But like I said, I tell my brother everything.”
Sam flinches. “So he does know then?”
“Don’t worry,” says River, setting her glass down and patting Sam’s wrist in mock sympathy. “I have worse on him. He’ll only kill you quickly. No torture.”
“Thank God.” his voice is so dry it has River snorting with laughter. Her fingers curl into the cuff of his shirt and his eyes linger on her face, even when she turns away.
“Will I ever get to meet your brother?” asks River lightly. Sam gives her a look.
“We’ve known each other for seven days; I haven’t talked to my brother in two years. But if I see him anytime soon, I’ll defiantly introduce you.” If he sounds as sad as he feels when he says that Simon and Mrs. Tam don’t notice, but River leans over and kisses him on the cheek, her forehead pressing against his temple and her eyes closed tightly.
“Don’t think I’m going anywhere, Winchester,” she mutters for his ears only. He’s surprised at her words (she really doesn’t seem like the type to do relationships, especially with the way she talks about her school and her dancing he was starting to wonder why she agreed to go out with him in the first place.) but no less relieved by them.
“Then I’ll defiantly make sure I call him,” returns Sam just as softly. “He might not be earth bound for a few weeks, but just knowing I want to see him might get his ass here.”
River seems mollified at his words and settles back into her chair. Her father’s returned with less alcohol than he left with, so there might be a good chance he’s not even going to remember the conversation in the morning. Sam looks over at River as she once against starts up a conversation with her brother, staying away from topics that involve him. He finds that he’s….happy. Warm and fuzzy even. Like he could spend the rest of his life in this moment.
That maybe it would be okay to talk to Dad again; to finally able to give him something, a reason that was worth him not going out and fighting for. That maybe he could have an almost normal life, without monsters.
Just in-laws.
Author: Liv
Fandom: Supernatural/Firefly
Characters: Sam Winchester/River Tam, Luis, Bobby Singer, Simon Tam, Shepherd Book, Mr./Mrs. Tam
30-kisses Prompt: 14. radio cassette player
Rating: R
Warnings: general spoilers, Sam's pov.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural or Firefly. Any characters you don’t recognize are original and should not be used without my permission. I don't own the song lyrics, Laura Marling does.
Author’s Note: Luis is Sam’s black friend from the pilot episode. I figured the only reason they might be friends is if he was Sam’s roommate in past. I almost want to make it longer, but I don’t feel like it.
Taken from my 1sentence claim, #41.
He meets her in class at the Academy. Philosophy. Something he loved and loathed, because the professor kind of made him want to take a nap or punch someone in the neck and the text kind of made him want to do great things or cut out someone‘s spleen. She was beautiful, wearing a dress made out of wool and satin, her dark hair curled over her shoulder as she took the seat next to him, mouthing an apology because she was five minutes late. Sam noticed the dance bag she dropped at her feet, letting her book bag slip from her shoulder and fall into her lap as she sat down, strands of her hair flying against his face and smelling like expensive perfume.
And Hell would have him if he didn’t love her instantly. He didn’t pay attention to the lecture; instead he kept sneaking glances at her whenever she was too busy looking at her source box, when someone coughed, when he scratched his nose. She was far more interesting than an hour and a half lecture on Perception and whether it was a young woman or an old woman in the picture. This topic had to be the only thing in half a millennia that hadn’t changed from its beginning on Earth-That-Was.
After class, in the hoard of people leaving the auditorium, he was pressed against her back as the crowd shuffled out the doors. The minute the sun hit their faces, bright and blinding and clear she was gone from his side and laughing with a small redhead in a leotard and board shorts. Sure he might have looked creepy staring at her as he went to grab coffee, but he hadn’t wanted anything this much since he got accepted to the Core Academies.
He sees her again in his OCHeM class four hours later (almost forgotten her, his heart skips a beat or two or ten when he recognizes the perfume in the air and how oh how has he never noticed her in the two months he‘s been in this class?), but this times she’s the TA and he nearly has a heart attack when she starts correcting the professor when he doesn’t even understand what’s going on. And almost like she can hear his internal cries for help, she sits down next to him, smiling like sunshine and he forgets what’s so bad about organic chemistry as long as she keeps smiling at him. She brushes her hair behind her ear, blushing for some reason and pulls his book towards her and a highlighter out of her bag.
“Professor Campbell is serious about trick questions,” she says, highlighting a few paragraphs while he stares at her like a moron. What would Dean say if he saw him like this? His brother would probably sleep with her in his bed and that train of thought snaps him back to reality. Rule of law: Keep Dean away from girlfriends, girl friends and girls of potential in either category.
“I’m Sam,” he says, blinks, and realizes he’s totally interrupted her. She sort of laughs at him, but it makes him forget to look embarrassed. She holds out her hand for him to take.
“’M River.”
He doesn’t know how, but by some twist of fate he’s actually gotten her to agree to go on a date with him. Because he likes her, he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, so he takes her to the one place most of his girlfriend’s fail. The shooting range.
“You’re kidding,” she says, laughing when she spots the entrance to the range Bobby owns. The older man is waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest looking uncle-like and sarcasm waiting to happen. Sam grins at her.
“You did agree to go out with me.”
“I was thinking more like…movie?” she says, still laughing. Her hair’s curled around her shoulder, like she took the time to look pretty for him, but she’s not wearing heels, so she won’t accidentally kill herself. Which is good. Her eyes narrow playfully at him. “Unless…are you testing me?”
“Might be.”
“You question my awesomeness?” He’s learned quickly that she thinks very highly of herself, so he makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and parks. Bobby waves at him, pulling a cigarette out of his mouth and crushing it against the side of his house. River notices him wave back and tilts her head. “Come here often?”
“I practically grew up here,” says Sam before really thinking. She frowns at him, analyzing, but he clears his throat quickly and shrugs. “Bobby’s almost family.”
“Family doesn’t end with blood,” she chirps, opening her door and hopping out, leaving him to stare at her with his mouth kind of hanging open, because that’s what Bobby used to tell him ‘n Dean when they were kids.
“Hey, Bobby,” calls Sam the second he manages to stop staring and get his ass out of the car.
“Sam, hear from your daddy recently?”
“Nah, Dean ’ll call eventually.” shrugs Sam, waving off the information and glancing at River, who’s squatting down to scratch Bobby’s weimaraner behind the ears, earning herself kisses that leave her squealing and smiling. Bobby looks at her and then at Sam, raising an eyebrow in question.
“Bobby, this is River Tam. River, this is Bobby Singer.”
“I’ve heard of you,” says River, managing to escape the tongue bath and to stand up. “You fought in the war. Independence. You punched General Chow in the face during the peace talks.”
“How do you think I ended up on Osiris, darlin‘?” but he’s not being snide, so River smiles at him, almost knowingly and turns to Sam.
“Were you planning on teaching me how to shoot?”
He’s pressed behind her, hands on her hips, angling her up with the target. He’s touching her more than he needs too, but she seems to be a bit out of breath so he doesn’t stop. He likes the feel of her too much, the smell of her hair warmed by the sun. His fingers graze along the exposed skin under her shirt and above her jeans. She can’t hide the shudder when she’s pressed against him, and he almost misses the way her eyes close when he shifts behind her. She misses the bulls-eye twice when he’s close enough to her to feel the heat from her body. He suspects it might have been on purpose.
Because after that she owns his ass.
He takes her back to her dorm late in the night, after dinner somewhere cheap and quick where they wouldn’t be bothered. They talk for hours, about everything from their siblings to music to the schools they went to. He tells her about his mother and she puts her hand over his and doesn’t move it for the rest of the night. She tells him what it’s like to be the smartest person in every room, and he laces their fingers together, because he knows what it’s like to know things that other people don’t.
He walks her to her door in an easy silence, preparing to ask her out again, when she spins around, stopping him in his tracks and pulls him closer by the front of his shirt, kissing him hard and eagerly. His hand automatically falls to her waist, pulling her flush against him and kisses her back with equal force. They somehow end up pressed against her door, his hand up her shirt and pressed against her back and she’s hooked a leg around his calf, one hand tangled in his hair and the other curled around one of his belt loops. It’s impossible to hide is erection from her when she’s so close, but he doesn’t want to push her and this might be taking things a little fast. He pulls away from her and she actually whines, her swollen lips falling into a pout that looks completely unintentional. He has to swallow back his desire, but before he can pull away further her leg’s hitched higher around his waist and he’s groaning, pressed against her. He can feel her heat through their jeans, his libido telling him that she wants this just as much as he does.
“River-”
“My roommate’s gone for the weekend,” she says with a shrug. “Just so you know.”
He stares at her, flushed cheeks and mused hair and the smell of sex in the air. He cracks a smirk that Dean would be proud of and slides his hand down her back and under her ass, gripping her thigh.
“Then we should probably get out of the hallway.”
Her window’s open, sun shining through the green curtain and playing against her bare skin when he wakes up. Or, more like when he realizes he’s awake and that yes, he really did just have the best first date ever. He props himself up on his elbow, staring down at River, lying on her stomach, cheek pillowed against her arm. His fingertips drawing patterns on her skin of their own accord, and then he’s pressing his mouth against her shoulder, against her neck. Her nose bumps against he’s in greeting, having woken up sometime while he was watching her sleep. She kisses him slowly, turning over on her back until he’s hovering over her, one hand kneading her breast while the other curls around her elbow.
The source box on her desk goes off rather loudly; but they don’t break apart until the wave starts and the sound of an older male’s voice filters through.
“River, it’s Simon. Don’t forget dinner next Friday with the Whitlock’s. Mother will be furious if you decide to skive off another one of her precious dinner parties. Bring a date if you want to piss her off so much.”
There was a pause, someone muttering on the other side of the line, a chuckle and then ‘Simon’ was back, an obvious grin on his face as he spoke.
“It was Sam you were speaking to me about, wasn’t it? Bring him.”
“Who’s Simon?” breathes Sam, eyeing the source box warily. River smirks into his hair, shifting her body under his until he’s cradled between her thighs.
“My brother. I did mention him you know.” Sam hums in remembrance, and then frowns. “You told your brother about me?” asks Sam, his mouth brushing against her jaw, eyes still on the source box on the desk.
“I tell my brother everything,” she counters, lifting her hips up and drawing his attention back to her. “And he reciprocates.”
Sam grins down at her, leaning down to kiss her and resume what was starting to be a fantastic morning.
What was a fantastic morning turned into a fantastic day, and a fantastic weekend, only interrupted by River’s roommate who flew through the door at ten Sunday night, to find Sam shirtless and lounging in a desk chair with River straddling his lap trying to convince him not to go home. He left shortly after that, with an awkward wave to the roommate and a lingering kiss with River at the door with plans to meet for coffee in the morning before classes.
His roommate laughs at him when he comes home at ten thirty and drops onto his bed like a rock, asking if he had a good weekend. He can’t even reply he’s smiling into his mattress so hard. He finds he can’t breathe in the morning, and he can’t tell if it’s because he dreamed of fire or because he dreamed of River. Either way he wakes up breathless and gasping and the suns aren’t even up yet.
Sam gets to the coffee stand twenty minutes before he’s supposed to meet River (mostly because he can’t function without coffee and mostly because he’s anxious), so he wakes Luis up and tells him to meet him, but he only has to wait about ten before River comes ‘round the corner in a beige pilot jacket and skin tight jeans, her hair in a high ponytail, swinging around her shoulders. She looks cold and sleepy, but when she sees him waiting for her, her expression brightens considerably and she practically skips over to him, sliding her arm around one of his and kissing him breathless. He doesn’t even care that Luis’ just looked over at him and is trying not to gape.
Sam hears him clear his throat as River pulls away from him with swollen lips and a content look on her face. He turns to his friend.
“Luis, this is River. River, this is my roommate Luis.”
She gives Luis a less brilliant but still polite smile and a small wave, before she notices Sam’s got coffee in his hand. She grabbed his wrist and takes a sniff of the black black black coffee he drinks and makes a face, making him grin (because no one can stand the way he takes his coffee). She detaches herself from him long enough to order a coffee, and he pretends she’s pretending she can’t hear what Luis says about her ass.
He has class in thirty minutes (otherwise she never would have gotten up at the ass crack of dawn just to get coffee, she assures him) and she mumbles something about a dance class and the library. They walk past a preacher standing at the edge of the grassy mall separating the student dorms and the physics building (like a giant warning to all who pass by; filled with people playing extreme Frisbee and the dangers of people on bikes who could care less about pedestrians and really, it’s a wonder no one’s died this year yet trying to cross) and Sam listens with one ear when River stops to pick up a mini symbol and flip through it.
The preacher is an older black man with his gray hair tied at the back of his head. River slips her hand into Sam’s when she stops on a page that interests her.
“If I was an asshole I’d totally be fixing this,” she mutters under her breath for only Sam to hear. He tries not to snort. The preacher looks at him.
“What’s your name, son?” Sam blinks at him.
“It’s ah…Sam.” River removes three fingers from the scripture and waves them at the holy man, eyes still glued on the page, her lips barely moving as she corrects the text in her head. The preacher nods at her in greeting and looks back at Sam.
“Do you practice, Sam?”
“Yeah, sure, if I had time,” says Sam with a shrug, which would be true, because he believes in something, he has to, after what he’s seen. He can’t bring himself to go to church, but he knows Latin and keeps holy water and a cross in a pine box under his bed. The preacher looks at him steadily.
“This place, it’s only the beginning, don’t take what they teach you hear to heart, son. The lord has things to teach us that can be used until the day you die-”
“Bored,” interrupts River, closing the symbol and handing it back. The preacher smiles at her kindly and pushed the book back into her hand.
“You keep it, child.”
River gives him a smile that Sam can tell is trying not to look too freaked out. “Thanks…”
“Book,” finished the preacher. “Shepherd Book.”
River manages not to roll her eyes and snort until they’re out of earshot, which he thinks is very impressive and tells her so. She curtsy’s for him.
“Sorry,” she says after a moment, curling some of the hair that had fallen out of its ponytail behind her ear. He looks at her strangely.
“For what?”
“You’re a believer and I’m ruining your hopes and dreams with my logic,” she says with a shrug, and yeah, she kind of over did that statement, but he feels as if something profound just happened.
He kisses her in front of the door to his next class for so long he’s seven minutes late and has to flip off several people in order to get anything done.
She meets him outside his class when it’s over, leaning against the stair railing wearing tights and boots and something that might be able to pass for a t-shirt if she were a hooker. Maybe. She’s getting looks from just about everyone as they mob out of class, and he gets a few smirks when he walks up to her, wraps an arm around her waist and lifts her onto the railing; kissing her long and hard, like they’ve been apart for days instead of ninety minutes of calculus hell.
She has three dance classes lumped together in an hour, so they go back to his dorm room and make out on his bed, which turns into heavy petting, which turns into very loud sex (in which they crack a mirror, break his lamp and will probably end up giggling whenever Luis sits down at his desk for the rest of the year) and missing her first class.
He gets high fives for the rest of the day from the guys on his floor, the ones above and the ones below. River laughs so hard when he tells her that he tosses Luis’ inhaler at her chest and tells her dryly not to kill herself.
She sleeps over on Tuesday because they don’t have any classes remotely close to each other. Luis is so high he doesn’t know his own name, let alone what they’re doing in the bed next to him. He wakes up to her raiding his closet for anything appropriate for him to wear to dinner. He reminds her groggily that they have Philosophy and OCHeM that day, and he has study group at 1. She waves off his talk of school with a ‘I have a ballet performance assignment in an hour, who gorram cares?’. He rolls his eyes and drops his head back into his pillow without even asking how she knows she’s got a ‘pop quiz’.
She resurfaces from his closet with her face screwed up in disgust, but successful, holding up a pair of dark jeans and a green button down that he never wears.
“So…” he begins quietly, leaning back in his chair in Philosophy, ignoring their professor drone on and on about the exact same thing he was going on about yesterday. River’s sitting next to him, on time, her fingers toying with the hairs on his neck as they don’t pay attention to the lecture. She hums in response, prompting him on. He takes a deep breath and starts again. “So…you’re family rich.”
She snorts at his choice of words, and tugs on his hair, getting him to look at her. “Yeah,” she says with a slow nod. “And they’ll judge you, but not because of your social stat- actually that’s a lie, they totally will,” she amends quickly. “But they’ll be more concerned about you being a man and I’m bringing you home, then how you grew up.”
He doesn’t look so convinced, so she kisses away the uncertainty. Then tells him to be ready by 7 and for the love of god take a shower.
They take a cab, because he can’t afford the gas in her part of town and she really doesn’t want him to kill them because he’s so nervous. And when the driver pulls in front of her house he’s glad he didn’t drive because holy go se.
At least it’s River’s mother who opens the door and not a maid or a butler, because he’s sweating enough as it is thanks very much. River has his hand in hers, and smiles brightly up at him before jerking into her house.
“Mum, this is Sam,” she introduces him and he manages to keep his hand from shaking or sweating too badly as he holds it out for Mrs. Tam to shake. She does, and then Mr. Tam walks in and pulls River into a tight hug with something that could be a joke mumbled into her ear that makes her laugh.
But then he looks over her shoulder at Sam and suddenly all the air is gone from the foyer in a rush. River pulls away from her father and stands in front of her parents, like she’s presenting him.
“Dad, this is my boyfriend, Sam Winchester.”
He moves closer to the safety net emitting serenity and ‘don’t fuck with my boyfriend’ vibes that is River. And he’s standing behind her in the clothes she picked out for him; trying very, very hard not to start chanting in Latin in case this is a trap and everybody’s a demon and they want to eat his brains. Mrs. Tam looks friendly but gives River a look after he smiles awkwardly after his introduction, and Mr. Tam just stares at him hard, like he knows Sam’s been fucking his daughter all week, but then River squeals ‘Simon!’ and jumps into the arms of a man who’s got to be her older brother.
“Look who finally bothers to come home.” but Simon is so obviously happy to see her that the sarcasm is completely lost. River doesn’t even bother to return with a sassy remark as she pulls away, her smile nearly breaking her face in two. She backs up a few steps and turns to Sam, her hair whirling around in mimic with her dress as she grabs Sam’s hand and pulls him forward toward her brother. She can’t seem to hide the affection she has for her boyfriend (Sam inwardly grows warm and comfy at the idea of being her boyfriend, that is how she introduced him to her parents, after all, so why not embrace it?) in the happiness of seeing her brother. With grace that only River seems to possess, she twirls back to her brother’s side and tugs on the cuff of his shirt.
“Simon, this is Sam.”
“He’s….tall.” River elbows her brother in the ribs and rolls her eyes a little too hard to be just for Sam’s benefit. The light in her eyes had dimmed slightly, and maybe it’s only him and Simon who notices, because a friendly, honest smile spreads over his face and he holds out his hand for Sam to take. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam.”
Suddenly Sam realizes that Simon’s opinion of him is the only one that matters to River and he’s a bit more than relieved to admit that he finds Simon pleasant. Sort of uptight and less amusing then River, but not altogether unpleasant. He shrugs and takes the elder Tam siblings hand.
“I doubt you’d be surprised with how much I get that.”
“Well,” interrupts Mrs. Tam, clapping her hands together once, briskly, looking from her eldest child to her youngest. “Shall we sit for dinner?”
“What about the Whitlock’s, Mother?” asks River, though not really all that curiously.
“Oh, they had to cancel, poor Tina has the flu.”
“Lucky Tina,” mutters River under her breath, but it’s not quiet enough for Mrs. Tam to pretend she didn’t hear her without being rude, still, she ignores her only daughters comment and gestures Sam toward the dining room.
“Sam,” begins Mrs. Tam politely, adjusting a fork as she passes a plate setting on her way to her chair. River rolls her eyes and flips the same fork completely horizontal. Her actions are ignored. “You go to school with River?”
“Yes, ma’am,” says Sam politely. They all sit at the perfectly arranged table and he feels like he just jumped into a shark tank with multiple lacerations, wearing a seal costume and skirt made of fish.
“What are you studying?” asks Mr. Tam, Sam glances at River, but she looks like she’s trying to keep a headache at bay so he’s not getting any help from her. He looks at Mr. Tam and again replies in a polite tone.
“Pre Law.”
“And your parents? What do they do?”
“Well, my mother died when I was a baby,” River’s fingers twitch, like she wants to reach out and grab his hand. “And my father fought in the Unification war.” he pauses. “He was part of the Pterodactyl brigade.”
Simon chokes on his drink, snorting up a bit of liquid as he laughs into his glass. River’s kept herself more composed, but Sam can see the results of that effort in the tears glazing her eyes. Mr. Tam manages to look amused for a moment, but Mrs. Tam just looks unimpressed. Simon has to excuse himself to refill his drink and returns composed save for the twinkle in his eyes.
The conversation is subpar as dinner is served, River talks about her classes, Simon speaks about his work, they squabble back and forth about a program River is thinking of taking over the summer. Mr. Tam asks Sam more about his Law degree, even mentions a few professors he knows who Sam might be interested in talking to. The conversation lulls as everyone eats, until Simon places his silverware on his plate and picks up his drink.
“So,” says Simon easily, leaning back in his chair with his drink cradled against his chest. Then, as calmly as if he was talking about the weather- “You’re sleeping with my sister, then?”
Mrs. Tam misses her plate with her knife and cuts through the table cloth and dents the wood beneath it, Mr. Tam chokes on his own drink and has to excuse himself from the table (Sam could swear he’s humming quietly just in case Sam answer’s before he’s out of the room), River promptly chucks a roll at her brother which he easily dodges, but doesn’t manage to miss the carrot and swears under his breath as it nails him in the eye. Sam just shakes his head, a smile creeping onto his face. He knows an over protective older brother threat when he hears one.
“That sounds like something my brother would open with,” he comments, glancing at River. “Dean would totally think you’re taking away my innocence.” then turns back to Sam and very seriously says with a cheeky smile on his face, “It wouldn’t be his business either, of course.”
“Well played,” murmurs River around the edge of her water glass. “But like I said, I tell my brother everything.”
Sam flinches. “So he does know then?”
“Don’t worry,” says River, setting her glass down and patting Sam’s wrist in mock sympathy. “I have worse on him. He’ll only kill you quickly. No torture.”
“Thank God.” his voice is so dry it has River snorting with laughter. Her fingers curl into the cuff of his shirt and his eyes linger on her face, even when she turns away.
“Will I ever get to meet your brother?” asks River lightly. Sam gives her a look.
“We’ve known each other for seven days; I haven’t talked to my brother in two years. But if I see him anytime soon, I’ll defiantly introduce you.” If he sounds as sad as he feels when he says that Simon and Mrs. Tam don’t notice, but River leans over and kisses him on the cheek, her forehead pressing against his temple and her eyes closed tightly.
“Don’t think I’m going anywhere, Winchester,” she mutters for his ears only. He’s surprised at her words (she really doesn’t seem like the type to do relationships, especially with the way she talks about her school and her dancing he was starting to wonder why she agreed to go out with him in the first place.) but no less relieved by them.
“Then I’ll defiantly make sure I call him,” returns Sam just as softly. “He might not be earth bound for a few weeks, but just knowing I want to see him might get his ass here.”
River seems mollified at his words and settles back into her chair. Her father’s returned with less alcohol than he left with, so there might be a good chance he’s not even going to remember the conversation in the morning. Sam looks over at River as she once against starts up a conversation with her brother, staying away from topics that involve him. He finds that he’s….happy. Warm and fuzzy even. Like he could spend the rest of his life in this moment.
That maybe it would be okay to talk to Dad again; to finally able to give him something, a reason that was worth him not going out and fighting for. That maybe he could have an almost normal life, without monsters.
Just in-laws.