He felt her hand, fingers warm as they curled onto his forearm, and he could hear his heart pounding loudly against his eardrums. He closed his eyes, trying to silence his own pulse, as she spoke directly at him, her fingers giving a slight squeeze.
Sam, look at me.He opened his eyes and let go of a slow breath as he finally looked up at her. Her gaze burned into him with an intensity he had never really seen in her eyes before. She wanted answers, needed them, and he was too much of a chicken to just flat out admit that he needed her
( ... )
He didn't leave. He didn't run out on her, pull back like he'd been burned, or say no you don't, but thanks for saying it...
Instead, Sam stayed there, bringing his free hand up to her cheek, and Buffy sighed against his mouth.
She could read the guy like a book even when she couldn't see his face and right now he was saying that what he'd been saying earlier was so very much present tense. Not past. He wanted her now like he'd wanted her then only there'd been too much in the way and God, she felt the same.
Buffy's grip on his arm relaxed, somewhat. Sure now that he wasn't going to bail on her, she kissed him again until she saw stars - almost literally - and the disappointment over having to breathe almost killed her.
She pulled back just a little, suddenly aware they'd amassed quite the crowd of onlookers and cleared her throat, flushing. "Umm, we have an audience..."
Not what she'd wanted to say at all after that, but--Not something she wanted to say in front of an audience, either. "Wow... Definitely wow. And other
( ... )
When she kissed him again, he knew that she understood, and he was glad that she could read him as good as she could.
She pulled back, both of them needing air, and he smiled at the blush that warmed her cheeks. Something deep in his chest almost made him say, "let them look", but the more rational Sam side of him just chuckled under his breath as he rested his forehead against hers.
"Coherence is overrated," he joked lightly, unable to even process everything himself. Especially now that all those fears that had needled at him had proven to be nothing but that--just fears.
The waitress quietly cleared her throat as she stepped up to the table, a wide grin on her face. "You two gonna be needing another round tonight?"
Sam pulled away from Buffy reluctantly, his free hand finding hers that still held onto his arm. He didn't tear his gaze from Buffy as he smiled slightly. "No, I think we're finally good."
The waitress nodded, slipping the tab onto the table. "You two be safe, alright?" she said, gathering the empty bottles
( ... )
Broken apart by the Waitress - who seemed to be using her powers for good and blocking the other patrons staring - Buffy sat back in her seat, smiling when Sam placed his hand over hers.
No, I think we're finally good.
Warmed by that alone, Buffy grinned, dropping a couple of $20's on the table for the waitress. "We're good," she nodded, wondering how much heartache would've been avoided if they'd just done this three years ago. If she hadn't passed out, drunk. If she hadn't gone home, if only...
Buffy blinked as she thought of her last moments with Spike, down in the Hellmouth. What he'd said... She'd told him about Sam the day before. Pretty hard to avoid considering he knew she'd been crying when he'd seen her but...
'I love you,' she'd told him softly, clasping his hand, even though it burned. 'No you don't' he'd replied, 'but thanks for saying it.'
And she'd been mad at him - so fucking mad because how could he know that? She had loved him in her own way - fucked up and crazy though their relationship was. But in love
( ... )
Dean would probably be asleep now anyway, she rationalized with herself, having noticed the coin slot for the Magic Fingers on the bed before they'd exited their motel room. She was doing the guy a favor, really...
And, okay, that was kind of a lie.
"We have 'til he runs out of quarters, at least," she promised, smiling slightly. A creature of habit, was Dean and true to form, he'd be blowing Sam's phone up in the morning if she didn't have him delivered back on his doorstep at a reasonable hour.
"You gonna respect me in the morning, Sam?" She teased, squeezing his hand. It was surprising how nice this felt, how... She hated to use the word normal, but there was no other word for it.
It was also surprising how much different this would have been three years ago and Buffy found herself wondering if maybe it was always meant to be this way.
Sam laughed at the idea of his brother and the Magic Fingers, and honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if he had already passed out with a quarter in the slot. That was Dean for you, didn't take much to keep his brother entertained.
They stepped up to the door to her room, her smaller hand still in his. "Depends on your definition of respect," he grinned.
Forty eight hours ago, Sam didn't think there was any reason for him to be back here. He figured Dean should have let things be, but standing here with Buffy now.
He wondered if this was his second chance. At everything.
Buffy smiled at him, sliding the key into the lock of her door. The room looked a littler nicer than when they'd left it and she wondered if that was the alcohol or the fact that she was back here and she wasn't alone.
She dropped her keys on the make-shift dining table beside the door and led Sam inside, locking it behind them as she shrugged out of her jacket. “Not a word about the clothes, Winchester,” she warned, playfully, knowing her clothes left little to the imagination.
They were alone now, completely alone, and everything she should have said in the bar right after that kiss, was rattling around inside her head, looking for a way to come out.
What the hell did she start with? I love you, too? I’ve loved you since… Pretty much the minute I got to Stanford? Okay, maybe not and that sounded a tiny bit stalkerish. But after that, definitely. She wasn’t honestly sure when it’d happened, she just knew that one day, the thought of not being there with him was worse than anything else she thought she’d face
( ... )
Comments 68
Sam, look at me.He opened his eyes and let go of a slow breath as he finally looked up at her. Her gaze burned into him with an intensity he had never really seen in her eyes before. She wanted answers, needed them, and he was too much of a chicken to just flat out admit that he needed her ( ... )
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Instead, Sam stayed there, bringing his free hand up to her cheek, and Buffy sighed against his mouth.
She could read the guy like a book even when she couldn't see his face and right now he was saying that what he'd been saying earlier was so very much present tense. Not past. He wanted her now like he'd wanted her then only there'd been too much in the way and God, she felt the same.
Buffy's grip on his arm relaxed, somewhat. Sure now that he wasn't going to bail on her, she kissed him again until she saw stars - almost literally - and the disappointment over having to breathe almost killed her.
She pulled back just a little, suddenly aware they'd amassed quite the crowd of onlookers and cleared her throat, flushing. "Umm, we have an audience..."
Not what she'd wanted to say at all after that, but--Not something she wanted to say in front of an audience, either. "Wow... Definitely wow. And other ( ... )
Reply
She pulled back, both of them needing air, and he smiled at the blush that warmed her cheeks. Something deep in his chest almost made him say, "let them look", but the more rational Sam side of him just chuckled under his breath as he rested his forehead against hers.
"Coherence is overrated," he joked lightly, unable to even process everything himself. Especially now that all those fears that had needled at him had proven to be nothing but that--just fears.
The waitress quietly cleared her throat as she stepped up to the table, a wide grin on her face. "You two gonna be needing another round tonight?"
Sam pulled away from Buffy reluctantly, his free hand finding hers that still held onto his arm. He didn't tear his gaze from Buffy as he smiled slightly. "No, I think we're finally good."
The waitress nodded, slipping the tab onto the table. "You two be safe, alright?" she said, gathering the empty bottles ( ... )
Reply
No, I think we're finally good.
Warmed by that alone, Buffy grinned, dropping a couple of $20's on the table for the waitress. "We're good," she nodded, wondering how much heartache would've been avoided if they'd just done this three years ago. If she hadn't passed out, drunk. If she hadn't gone home, if only...
Buffy blinked as she thought of her last moments with Spike, down in the Hellmouth. What he'd said... She'd told him about Sam the day before. Pretty hard to avoid considering he knew she'd been crying when he'd seen her but...
'I love you,' she'd told him softly, clasping his hand, even though it burned.
'No you don't' he'd replied, 'but thanks for saying it.'
And she'd been mad at him - so fucking mad because how could he know that? She had loved him in her own way - fucked up and crazy though their relationship was. But in love ( ... )
Reply
And, okay, that was kind of a lie.
"We have 'til he runs out of quarters, at least," she promised, smiling slightly. A creature of habit, was Dean and true to form, he'd be blowing Sam's phone up in the morning if she didn't have him delivered back on his doorstep at a reasonable hour.
"You gonna respect me in the morning, Sam?" She teased, squeezing his hand. It was surprising how nice this felt, how... She hated to use the word normal, but there was no other word for it.
It was also surprising how much different this would have been three years ago and Buffy found herself wondering if maybe it was always meant to be this way.
Reply
They stepped up to the door to her room, her smaller hand still in his. "Depends on your definition of respect," he grinned.
Forty eight hours ago, Sam didn't think there was any reason for him to be back here. He figured Dean should have let things be, but standing here with Buffy now.
He wondered if this was his second chance. At everything.
Reply
She dropped her keys on the make-shift dining table beside the door and led Sam inside, locking it behind them as she shrugged out of her jacket. “Not a word about the clothes, Winchester,” she warned, playfully, knowing her clothes left little to the imagination.
They were alone now, completely alone, and everything she should have said in the bar right after that kiss, was rattling around inside her head, looking for a way to come out.
What the hell did she start with? I love you, too? I’ve loved you since… Pretty much the minute I got to Stanford? Okay, maybe not and that sounded a tiny bit stalkerish. But after that, definitely. She wasn’t honestly sure when it’d happened, she just knew that one day, the thought of not being there with him was worse than anything else she thought she’d face ( ... )
Reply
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