SN/LV Crossover Fic: Downtime
x-posted
Title: Downtime
Author: Trystan
Rating: hard R (language and sexual situations)
Pairing: Sam/Sam; Dean/Sam
Category: Supernatural/Las Vegas Crossover
Spoilers: “Crossroad Blues,” “Folsom Prison Blues,” Season 4 of “Las Vegas”
Word Count: 4,662
Notable Credits: extra special thanks to my beta readers in it’s various stages: aphrodite33, bodgei, cg_chevygirl, clarksmuse, iluvroadrunner6, moondropz, and x5vale. Sam and Dean are not mine, although goddess knows I wish Dean was. Sam Marquez isn’t mine either, but it’d be nice to have people at my beck and call like she does.
Author’s Notes: *looks at pairings* *evil cackle*
Summary: Dean and Sam take some downtime at the Montecito.
A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain’t satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby
~ Elvis Presley ©1968
“Have you completely lost your mind, Dean? There’s no way we can stay here!”
“Here” was the Montecito, lavish hotel and casino on the strip in Las Vegas, Nevada.
“Watch me, Sammy,” Dean boasted. “Watch and learn.” Wisely, they’d left their jackets in the Impala, and Dean suggested they spruce up their wardrobe. Sam was still wearing his boots and blue jeans, but had buttoned his plaid overshirt and tucked it in, with his t-shirt still visible at the top. Dean had traded his blue jeans for black, and his boots were hidden by the cuffs. He traded his t-shirt and overshirt for one of the white dress shirts they’d kept with them in the car. He’d also folded up the sleeves to his elbows.
As they stepped through the sliding doors, Sam was still doubtful they could pull this off, with the FBI permanently on their tails. There were surveillance cameras all over the place, he noted, and suddenly felt very exposed.
“Uh, Dean?”
“Not now, Sammy, I’m working here,” Dean said, looking around at the people - the women mostly - and all the tables where he could win them enough money to stay the night. Maybe even the weekend. And maybe even two rooms.
He scanned the room, and finally settled on a poker table, and went to exchange some money for chips. Sam followed after him, feeling completely out of his element.
Once they had chips and were on the casino floor, Sam heading in the direction of the slot machines. The further back in the corner, the better.
“Wuss,” Dean called after him. Sam scowled back, and continued walking away from the crowd.
Dean headed right for the cards tables.
After several winning hands at poker, he moved on to blackjack. Moving his pile of winnings over to the roulette table, he cursed his idea of leaving the jacket in the car, he had that many chips.
Dean lost almost everything he placed on the table in the first few rounds, but on the fourth game he played, he ended up walking away from the table with more chips than he brought over to begin with.
He cashed in most of the chips, and said he’d be back for more later, and headed over to the bar. He ordered a scotch on the rocks, and mentally tallied what he’d won. Yeah, they could stay there the night, maybe even the weekend, he was thinking, when he realized there was a woman beside him.
“Hey there, handsome,” she said, sitting on a barstool next to him. Dean looked towards the direction of the voice and almost did a double-take. She looked remarkably similar to the Crossroads Demon he’d recently met. He looked her over - a skimpy black top with spaghetti straps, tight fitting cream-colored pants, and matching sandals. Dean moistened his lips before replying.
“Hi yourself.” His drink came then, for which he was grateful, and he took a swallow.
“Haven’t seen you around,” she said, fishing for information.
“Haven’t been around. Just passing through.”
“Late on a Friday afternoon, right,” she sarcastically agreed.
“My brother and I are on a road trip. We could use a little downtime,” he offered.
“Oooooh, you have a brother. What is it you guys do?”
“We’re, uh... investigators,” Dean started, but was interrupted by the bartender.
“Can I get you anything, Ms. Marquez?”
She smiled at the bartender. “No thanks, Delia, I’m still on duty. And remember we talked about first names?”
Delia smiled, and hurried off.
“So, what is it that you do here, Ms. Marquez?” Dean asked.
“I can be your hostess, if you’d like. And it’s Sam,” she smiled coyly.
“Sam, huh?” he asked, took a drink from his glass, looked at the amber liquid thoughtfully, and then turned back to her. “That’s pretty funny. My brother is Sam too.”
She smiled. “Is he handsome like you?”
“Chicks think he is.”
“Chicks, huh?” It wasn’t quite the retort she was going for, but it was close enough. Dean smiled. She smiled back, which was when her cell phone, clipped to her waist, buzzed. She flipped it open, listened, said “I’ll be right there,” and then closed the phone. She slid off the stool and pulled a card out of her snug pants that showed off her tight ass.
“If there’s anything you need during your stay, here’s my card.” And she handed him a card with her name and phone numbers printed on it. She turned to walk away, and Dean slid off the barstool and called her name. She turned around, and Dean took a step towards her, reached out for her, and drew her in for a kiss.
She put her hand on his upper arm, possibly to push him away, but then something changed her mind. She tried to speak when the kiss ended, but drew a shaky breath first.
“I do mean anything,” she ended up whispering in his ear.
Dean smiled and watched her ass admiringly as she walked away, to wherever it was she had been summoned.
~*~
Sam Winchester met up with his brother at check-in. He had a bucket of coins. Dean peered in, and chuckled approvingly. He turned back the counter, where the cute girl at the desk handed him a keycard, and then looked over at the other brother.
“Sam Magillicuddy?” she asked. Sam looked at Dean, who shrugged, raised his eyebrows, and then busied himself looking at the card he was handed. The woman handed Sam his keycard.
“Just to remind you, check-out is before 11 a.m. We’ll see you back here Monday,” she said pleasantly.
As they turned to go towards the elevator, Sam turned on his brother.
“Monday? You are crazy. Dean! This is...” He attempted a quick calculation, “... over $1,000! Like $1,200! We don’t have that kind of money to throw away on - ” A thought struck him and he took Dean’s keycard and compared it to his.
“Two rooms for three nights?” he asked, completely disbelieving his eyes.
“What? You want to share a room? Again? Besides...” Dean pulled out his bills from his pocket and showed Sam. Stuffing that back in one pocket, he pulled out a few chips from the other pocket that he hadn’t cashed in, including some purple and black ones. Sam took a purple one, looked at it, and then gave it back to Dean. It was a $500 chip, and there was at least four in Dean’s hands.
He pulled out an orange one and gave it to Sam.
“See if you can double that, yeah?” Dean said, continuing on to the elevator to check out his room. Behind him, Sam gaped at the $1,000 chip Dean had handed him.
~*~
As it turned out, Sam did double the amount at the roulette table. And then promptly lost it all. Grumbling, he followed Dean’s path to the bar, but just ordered a ginger ale. He sat at the counter, and stared at the wall behind the bar.
After a moment, he realized there was someone sitting next to him. He glanced at the woman, and almost fell off his stool - he could have sworn she was the Crossroad Demon Dean told him about.
“Uhm, hi,” he recovered quickly. She had brown hair and mischievous brown eyes; and wore a skimpy black top with thin straps, and tight fitting cream-colored pants.
“Hi,” she smiled back. “How are you doing?” At his puzzled look, she continued, “at the tables and the slots?” she prompted, indicating his bucket.
“Eh, all right, I suppose. My brother is apparently better at this than I am.” He gave her a wry smile. Her return smile could have lit up the room.
“And what are you better at than him?”
Sam actually had to think a moment before responding. “Research. And the internet.” He chuckled at the last remark, as Dean didn’t even know what MySpace was. She genuinely laughed when he told her that too.
“Well, maybe I can help you out. It’s my job to see that you do all the gambling you can while you’re here.”
“Oh yeah? What’s your job?”
“I’m a casino host. And don’t tell anyone,” she leaned in to Sam to whisper something to him, “I’m technically the owner too.”
“Wow, that’s just, uhm...” Sam replied when she sat up straight again. “... cool,” he finished.
“Well, you can thank my dead, ex-husband for that.” She was quiet a moment, looking away from Sam to the wall across from her. She looked back at Sam. “So, want someone to show you the ropes?”
He smiled at her. “Sure. I’m Sam by the way.”
She laughed then, and held out her hand to shake his. “I’m Sam too. Sam Marquez.”
Sam Winchester just snickered as they slid off barstools and reentered the casino floor.
Sam Marquez gave him pointers for all the games. They moved from table to table, and he would play a few hands of cards, and she would encourage him to keep betting. Every so often, her phone would go off, and she’d have to take the call, or she’d disappear off to another part of the floor. She’d always come back, and was always by his side, cheering him on.
One of the calls that night was from Delinda, asking to meet her in the lobby.
“Who’s the hot guy you’re hangin’ with?” she wanted to know.
“Just a newbie. He’s here the weekend, and knows like next to nothing,” she said, sounding bored.
“Your whale is supposed to be here tomorrow afternoon. You’ll be up for it?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, distracted.
“Sam?” Delinda waved her hand in front of Sam’s eyes. “Aww, how cute. Go back to your newbie...” she trailed off, fishing for a name.
“Sam,” she said. “His name is Sam,” she smiled, and watched Delinda do the same. Then she headed back to the table where her newbie was winning.
All to quickly, several hours had passed, and Sam realized that while he’d missed dinner, he wasn’t hungry at all. His pile of chips would grow, and then drop down to almost nothing, and then grow again. There was something insanely addicting about this, he realized when he looked at his watch and it read 2:00 a.m. He glanced around and found it very interesting that there were no clocks on the casino floor either.
They were at the roulette table when his number was called, and he won a massive pile of chips. Picking them up, he turned to his hostess, and leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“Would you like to come back to my room for a little bit?” Something about the night emboldened him to ask her, even though she had a million reasons to turn him down, the least of which was she was the owner and he was just a patron.
Her eyes seemed to smile.
“I have one more thing to do, but we can do that on the way out.”
He gathered up his chips and went to exchange some back to cash, and found that she was right behind him.
“Hey Jack,” she said to the man working the cage.
“Oh hey, Sam,” he said.
“You know I’ll need more for tomorrow, right? High-roller coming in for a few days.” She smiled at him, and he nodded vigorously.
“Sure thing, Ms. Marquez. Anything for you.”
“It’s Sam, remember?” At his nod, she smiled. “I believe this young man has some chips to exchange,” she indicted the taller Sam with a motion of her head. Jack exchanged the chips for cash, which Sam put in another pocket from the few chips he hadn’t cashed in.
He marveled at the few $1,000-chips he’d kept, and wondered what Dean’s expression would be when he showed his brother the four orange chips he’d held onto.
~*~
“Oh wow, they gave you one of the nicer rooms,” she said as Sam Winchester opened the door for her. He closed the door and stared around the plush suite that was the size of some of the entire apartments he’d lived in growing up.
“Yeah, I ... see that,” he faltered a little.
She trailed her hand along the leather couch that was prominent in the room, and looked around, even though she’d seen it all before. He just stood there, trying not to gape at the furnishings.
She went over to him, and started to unbutton his shirt. He caught her wrist and held it tight.
“What are you doing?” he said, his voice sounding rough.
“Trying to make you more comfortable, is all,” she said sweetly. “You do want to be comfortable, right?” she even batted her eyelashes as well. He thought she was over-acting. Still holding her wrist, he pulled her closer and leaned down to kiss her on the lips. His kiss was almost as rough as his voice.
He let go of her wrist and she squeaked in surprise when he cupped her ass and picked her up. Automatically, her legs went around his waist. They were now at the same height, and she returned the kiss just as fiercely.
Still holding her, they headed for the bedroom and shut the door.
They made love, fast and furious at first, then slow and sensual. She suggested the hot tub, which was a very satisfying experience for both. It was a few hours later, after they overturned the couch in their frenzied fucking, they crawled back into bed and fell asleep.
At least Sam Marquez did. Sam Winchester was still wide awake at 5 a.m. He got dressed and went back down to the casino floor, cursing both his brother and the pretty casino host in his bed. He worked the floor for about two hours, and then returned to his room. She was still sleeping, so he got undressed and slid quietly into the bed next to her, and fell asleep.
She was gone when he woke around lunchtime.
~*~
Samantha Jane Marquez was good at her job. She made sure her high-roller, or whales as she called them, was situated at his favorite poker table, and went in search of the young man she’d spent the night with. Very uncharacteristic of her, she hated to leave him, but she had to go to work.
“So? Spill - tell me all about him.” was the first thing Delinda asked when she saw Sam that morning as they walked towards the cage.
“Him who?” she replied.
“Oh, Sam. You know. Sam. The guy?”
“Oh,” she said, waving Delinda off, “he’s a guy. You know.”
“No, I don’t ‘you know.’ You were all distracted over him yesterday, so tell me.”
Sam stopped walking and turned to the blonde.
“I slept with him.” She stared walking again, and the taller woman actually had to almost run to catch her.
“No way! Sam - ”
She put up a hand to stop the chatter. “That was it, the one night. I’m over it.” And she walked away, over to the cage to make sure the money for her whale was all ready to go.
She smiled on the way back to the floor, and passed Danny McCoy, head of Security. She waved, but didn’t really see him as she walked by.
“Sam - ?” he questioned, and was utterly confused when she didn’t stop. He spun around and stared after her as she entered the floor.
When she got to the blackjack table, she nearly tripped over her own sandals. At the table, with a large pile of chips in front of him was that guy, Dean, who had kissed her the previous evening. She put her fingers to her lips, as if she could feel his lips on hers. Quickly, she put her hand down on the table. Don’t be silly, Sam, she chided herself.
She saw him look up from his cards. He looked at her and smiled. She felt as if she were outside in the heat. She never blushed. What the hell was going on here?
“Actually, there is something I need during my weekend here,” she heard beside her. When she turned, Dean had moved his seat to be next to her.
She slipped in to host mode without thinking. “A nice soak in the hot tub, we have racquetball courts, an upscale restaurant, whatever you’d like.”
“A burger and fries?”
“Done,” she said almost instantly.
“With you sitting opposite me,” he clarified. She fumbled for the words to say no, but she surprised herself.
“I know just the place,” she said after a moment. “When you’re done with the cards,” she said, indicating the game he was half paying attention to.
“I’m good,” he said, looking at his cards, and holding up a hand to indicated to the dealer to stop. He turned over the remaining card for a total of 21 points, collected his chips, and left the table with her.
She noticed that today, instead of a white shirt, he was wearing an oh-so-tight black t-shirt that was covered by a denim overshirt, which matched his jeans. Why did she even notice that? and why was she going with him to the burger joint down the street? Wasn’t she supposed to keep the visitors in the Montecito?
As they walked, she asked, “Do you mind driving?”
“Hell no, fine with me.”
They walked to the place in the garage where Dean had parked the car the day before, and unlocked and opened Sam’s door for her. She stared a moment before getting in.
“This is '67 Chevy Impala!” she finally gasped after Dean got in next to her. He smiled.
“I know.” And he turned the engine over.
~*~
“Hey Sam,” Danny McCoy called out to her when she and Dean re-entered the casino some time later. She tried to wave him off again, but he caught her arm.
“What are you doing?” he whispered loudly. “You have a whale who’s been looking for you all afternoon.”
“I only stepped out for an hour,” she said, looking offended, and yanking back her arm from him.
“Try three hours,” Danny hissed. “Do you even know who this guy is?”
“He’s new in town,” she said, starting to explain.
“See? New. You don’t even know the guy.” Danny flicked a glance at “the guy,” who was watching the entire exchange with a bemused look on his face.
“Now,” Danny finished, “hope Delinda’s doing a good job with your whale.” He turned away from her and headed towards the security room.
“Pleasant man,” Dean said when she turned back to him.
“Head of security,” she returned. Dean was silent, surprisingly not knowing what to say to the beautiful girl next to him.
“You should go - ” He started to tell her she should probably get back to work when she reached up and kissed him on his lips.
“I’ll find you in a little bit,” she said, her voice cheerful as he watched her skip through the crowd to one of the tables. She met up with an older man who looked as out of place in a casino as Sammy did. He scanned the room, but didn’t see his brother, and figured he was crashed in his room from a late night of gambling. Now that he thought about it, Dean hadn’t seen his brother since the previous evening. Eh, he would have called or paged if he needed to pester Dean for anything.
Dean turned his attention back to the dark-haired casino host as she smiled at all the guests, young and old. He found a seat at a Blackjack table where he could play and watch her at the same time.
True to her word, she did come back over to him after a few hours of schmoozing her clients. She reached up, and holding onto the buttons of his overshirt, kissed him again.
“I’m pretty sure I can help you out with something that isn’t the standard with a casino host. Only for you though.” And Dean swore she winked at him.
“Well, what did you have in mind?”
She kissed him again, and between nips on his lower lip, she said, “Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” she teased.
“I’d pick you up right here and carry you to my room, but - ”
“Yeah, security cameras,” she supplied.
Dean picked her up and carried her to his room anyway.
They didn’t need to talk, they knew what to do together, how to move sensually in a dance as old as time. Her mind did drift momentarily to her encounter just the previous night, but this was so different than anything she’d ever experienced. He was very attentive to her, and made sure her body was ready for him with the most exquisite torture. She thought she’d rather die first, but it was pure heaven when they did connect in the most primal of ways.
Nowhere was sacred in his room: the bed, the floor, the couch, the coffee table, and against the wall. They were back in the bed when she lazily suggested in the shower. He looked at his watch on the night table, which read almost 2 a.m. Grinning wickedly, and kissing her fully on the lips, he led her into the shower.
After a very cleansing and sensual shower, they snuggled on the couch, and Dean flipped through the channels. She stopped him when he came to a grainy picture of a woman being chased by a monster.
“This looks good,” she said, putting her hand on his, which was holding the remote.
“Woman after my own heart,” he said, and leaned over and kissed the top of her head. She looked up at him, and he kissed her lips. They fell asleep watching Psycho Scarecrow.
~*~
In the security office, Danny McCoy was pacing. He’d called his partner Mike Cannon, to come in and help him figure out what was going on with Sam Marquez. She normally didn’t shun her duties and blow off whales like she did that day.
Mike had grumbled about Danny calling him at 1 in the morning, but 15 minutes later, he was watching video of Sam talking and laughing with two different men on the various monitors.
“Mike, can you video IQ these guys for me?” Danny said, watching Sam on the casino floor with the taller of the two from Friday’s footage.
Mike scanned through the video he had of the two men, and studied it for quite some time. After scrolling thought the footage, he let out an exasperated sigh.
“These guys are good, Danny. They know there’s cameras. Like here,” Mike stopped at a picture of the shorter one. His back was to the camera the whole time, and as the man and Sam walked down the hall, he held back and turned his head and twisted himself in such a way that Sam wouldn’t realize what he was doing.
Mike and Danny looked through the tape and the footage many times over early that morning. Finally, at about 5 a.m., their eyes in need of serious closing, both Mike and Danny found the same spot of video: Sam and the shorter man were returning from the parking garage into the Montecito, and his face caught the camera full-on. It was only for a frame or two, but it was enough.
Within moments, Mike had the video IQ searching for a match. It seemed to take longer than it should, until the computer beeped with a match - a mug shot from Little Rock, Arkansas. Nice laundry list of charges, including murder. His name was Dean Winchester.
“Gotcha,” Danny said, smiled, and thumped Mike on his back for his efforts. Mike had to chuckle when a second picture appeared on the screen. It was the same type of mug shot, also from Little Rock. The name of the taller man was Sam Winchester.
~*~
Sunday morning woke Dean from the couch, still stiff, but she was gone. He lifted his arm to look at his watch, which read 7 a.m. Perfect. He stood, straightened out his clothes so it didn’t look like he slept on the couch in them, grabbed his bag from the bed, and left the room.
That morning, Sam Winchester was awakened to the sound of someone pounding on his door. He roused himself from the bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and shrugged into a shirt and opened the door.
“Time to go, man,” Dean said with no preamble. “Get your stuff and let's split.”
“What? Uhm, ok, Dean. Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Ran into the security guy yesterday afternoon. I’m pretty sure he saw my face, and can identify me. And from me, he can get you.”
“And you didn’t tell me this last night because....?”
“I was busy,” he replied, not really answering his brother’s question.
“Okay then,” Sam said, gathering up his few belongings and stuffing them into a knapsack.
As they were going down the hall, Sam asked his brother to hold out his hand.
“What? Why? You all right there, Sammy?”
“Sure. Just do it, Dean.”
Dean stopped, sighed, and held out his hand. Sam placed some chips in his brother’s palm.
“You’re supposed to cash these out when you leave the floor. Why didn’t you?” He hadn’t looked at his hand yet.
“You didn’t when you gave me one the other night,” Sam said back. Finally Dean looked down. In his palm were five orange chips.
“Holy Christ, Sam!” Dean just about yelled, but Sam had continued walking down the hallway. “Sammy?” Dean called, catching up to his brother. “This is awesome, dude!”
Sam turned back to Dean, smiled, and kept walking. Dean caught up again.
“You have to cash these in, man,” he said. Sam stopped walking to let Dean get a little ahead. Dean was talking a mile a minute about cashing in the chips, he earned them, and they could use the cash.
In the end, Sam cashed in all of his and Dean’s chips, but saved a black $100 chip to remember the weekend.
Once they were in the car and on the road, the Strip in their rearview mirror, Sam turned slightly in his seat to face his brother.
“So, what all did you do after we separated Friday?”
“I had the most awesome burger for lunch yesterday,” he said.
“All you think about is your stomach, Dean!”
“And the company of a great casino hostess,” he added, turning and winking at his brother.
“Oh really?” Sam asked, curious now.
“Really. Slender, brunette. Promised me she’d see to whatever I needed.”
“Huh. I had one of those too,” Sam said.
“You had a casino host, Sammy boy?”
“I did,” Sam smirked at his brother. “Want to know the weirdest thing?” he asked. Dean raised his eyebrows, thinking about his weekend. The gesture indicated that Sam should continue, but Dean jumped in with his own answer. Interestingly enough, they both replied at the same time.
“Her name was Sam,” they said in unison. There was silence as Sam glared at Dean, and Dean glared back.
“No way, dude,” Sam said after a moment.
“Apparently, yes, dude.”
“Jerk,” Sam said.
“Bitch,” Dean retorted.
~*~
“Sam, about those guys - ” Danny started to tell her in the security office later Sunday afternoon.
“Of course they were bad news,” she said, not needing to hear the rest of what Danny was going to tell her. “Story of my life.”
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
“Don’t apologize, Danny. I’m used to being screwed over.” She headed down to the floor to see how her whale was faring, thinking about the brothers. She sighed. How did she keep ending up with the bad apples? She’d miss them, that was for certain. And Sam Marquez wasn’t supposed to have feelings. Not really.“You got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count you r money when you’re sittin’ at the table.
There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done.”
***
Supernatural Fan Fiction
For entertainment only
© 2007 by Caren Franco
Only Delia and Jack are original. Beta-read by Aphrodite, Bodge, ChevyGirl, ClarksMuse, ILuvRoadrunner, MoonDropz and Valeria. Dean and Sam Winchester were created by Eric Kripke, Robert Singer, Kripke Enterprises Scrap Metal and Entertainment; Warner Brothers and the CW. Samantha Jane Marquez, Delinda Deline, Mike Cannon, and Danny McCoy and the Montecito were as created by Gary Scott Thompson Productions, NBC Universal Television, and DreamWorks Television. “A Little Less Conversation” from the “Live a Little, Love a Little” Soundtrack, sung by Elvis Presley, ©1968. “The Gambler” from “The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers, ©1978.
and check out my Dean/Sam manips, too!
-
Title: Downtime
Author: Trystan
Rating: hard R (language and sexual situations)
Pairing: Sam/Sam; Dean/Sam
Category: Supernatural/Las Vegas Crossover
Spoilers: “Crossroad Blues,” “Folsom Prison Blues,” Season 4 of “Las Vegas”
Word Count: 4,662
Notable Credits: extra special thanks to my beta readers in it’s various stages: aphrodite33, bodgei, cg_chevygirl, clarksmuse, iluvroadrunner6, moondropz, and x5vale. Sam and Dean are not mine, although goddess knows I wish Dean was. Sam Marquez isn’t mine either, but it’d be nice to have people at my beck and call like she does.
Author’s Notes: *looks at pairings* *evil cackle*
Summary: Dean and Sam take some downtime at the Montecito.
A little less conversation, a little more action please
All this aggravation ain’t satisfactioning me
A little more bite and a little less bark
A little less fight and a little more spark
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me
Satisfy me baby
~ Elvis Presley ©1968
“Have you completely lost your mind, Dean? There’s no way we can stay here!”
“Here” was the Montecito, lavish hotel and casino on the strip in Las Vegas, Nevada.
“Watch me, Sammy,” Dean boasted. “Watch and learn.” Wisely, they’d left their jackets in the Impala, and Dean suggested they spruce up their wardrobe. Sam was still wearing his boots and blue jeans, but had buttoned his plaid overshirt and tucked it in, with his t-shirt still visible at the top. Dean had traded his blue jeans for black, and his boots were hidden by the cuffs. He traded his t-shirt and overshirt for one of the white dress shirts they’d kept with them in the car. He’d also folded up the sleeves to his elbows.
As they stepped through the sliding doors, Sam was still doubtful they could pull this off, with the FBI permanently on their tails. There were surveillance cameras all over the place, he noted, and suddenly felt very exposed.
“Uh, Dean?”
“Not now, Sammy, I’m working here,” Dean said, looking around at the people - the women mostly - and all the tables where he could win them enough money to stay the night. Maybe even the weekend. And maybe even two rooms.
He scanned the room, and finally settled on a poker table, and went to exchange some money for chips. Sam followed after him, feeling completely out of his element.
Once they had chips and were on the casino floor, Sam heading in the direction of the slot machines. The further back in the corner, the better.
“Wuss,” Dean called after him. Sam scowled back, and continued walking away from the crowd.
Dean headed right for the cards tables.
After several winning hands at poker, he moved on to blackjack. Moving his pile of winnings over to the roulette table, he cursed his idea of leaving the jacket in the car, he had that many chips.
Dean lost almost everything he placed on the table in the first few rounds, but on the fourth game he played, he ended up walking away from the table with more chips than he brought over to begin with.
He cashed in most of the chips, and said he’d be back for more later, and headed over to the bar. He ordered a scotch on the rocks, and mentally tallied what he’d won. Yeah, they could stay there the night, maybe even the weekend, he was thinking, when he realized there was a woman beside him.
“Hey there, handsome,” she said, sitting on a barstool next to him. Dean looked towards the direction of the voice and almost did a double-take. She looked remarkably similar to the Crossroads Demon he’d recently met. He looked her over - a skimpy black top with spaghetti straps, tight fitting cream-colored pants, and matching sandals. Dean moistened his lips before replying.
“Hi yourself.” His drink came then, for which he was grateful, and he took a swallow.
“Haven’t seen you around,” she said, fishing for information.
“Haven’t been around. Just passing through.”
“Late on a Friday afternoon, right,” she sarcastically agreed.
“My brother and I are on a road trip. We could use a little downtime,” he offered.
“Oooooh, you have a brother. What is it you guys do?”
“We’re, uh... investigators,” Dean started, but was interrupted by the bartender.
“Can I get you anything, Ms. Marquez?”
She smiled at the bartender. “No thanks, Delia, I’m still on duty. And remember we talked about first names?”
Delia smiled, and hurried off.
“So, what is it that you do here, Ms. Marquez?” Dean asked.
“I can be your hostess, if you’d like. And it’s Sam,” she smiled coyly.
“Sam, huh?” he asked, took a drink from his glass, looked at the amber liquid thoughtfully, and then turned back to her. “That’s pretty funny. My brother is Sam too.”
She smiled. “Is he handsome like you?”
“Chicks think he is.”
“Chicks, huh?” It wasn’t quite the retort she was going for, but it was close enough. Dean smiled. She smiled back, which was when her cell phone, clipped to her waist, buzzed. She flipped it open, listened, said “I’ll be right there,” and then closed the phone. She slid off the stool and pulled a card out of her snug pants that showed off her tight ass.
“If there’s anything you need during your stay, here’s my card.” And she handed him a card with her name and phone numbers printed on it. She turned to walk away, and Dean slid off the barstool and called her name. She turned around, and Dean took a step towards her, reached out for her, and drew her in for a kiss.
She put her hand on his upper arm, possibly to push him away, but then something changed her mind. She tried to speak when the kiss ended, but drew a shaky breath first.
“I do mean anything,” she ended up whispering in his ear.
Dean smiled and watched her ass admiringly as she walked away, to wherever it was she had been summoned.
~*~
Sam Winchester met up with his brother at check-in. He had a bucket of coins. Dean peered in, and chuckled approvingly. He turned back the counter, where the cute girl at the desk handed him a keycard, and then looked over at the other brother.
“Sam Magillicuddy?” she asked. Sam looked at Dean, who shrugged, raised his eyebrows, and then busied himself looking at the card he was handed. The woman handed Sam his keycard.
“Just to remind you, check-out is before 11 a.m. We’ll see you back here Monday,” she said pleasantly.
As they turned to go towards the elevator, Sam turned on his brother.
“Monday? You are crazy. Dean! This is...” He attempted a quick calculation, “... over $1,000! Like $1,200! We don’t have that kind of money to throw away on - ” A thought struck him and he took Dean’s keycard and compared it to his.
“Two rooms for three nights?” he asked, completely disbelieving his eyes.
“What? You want to share a room? Again? Besides...” Dean pulled out his bills from his pocket and showed Sam. Stuffing that back in one pocket, he pulled out a few chips from the other pocket that he hadn’t cashed in, including some purple and black ones. Sam took a purple one, looked at it, and then gave it back to Dean. It was a $500 chip, and there was at least four in Dean’s hands.
He pulled out an orange one and gave it to Sam.
“See if you can double that, yeah?” Dean said, continuing on to the elevator to check out his room. Behind him, Sam gaped at the $1,000 chip Dean had handed him.
~*~
As it turned out, Sam did double the amount at the roulette table. And then promptly lost it all. Grumbling, he followed Dean’s path to the bar, but just ordered a ginger ale. He sat at the counter, and stared at the wall behind the bar.
After a moment, he realized there was someone sitting next to him. He glanced at the woman, and almost fell off his stool - he could have sworn she was the Crossroad Demon Dean told him about.
“Uhm, hi,” he recovered quickly. She had brown hair and mischievous brown eyes; and wore a skimpy black top with thin straps, and tight fitting cream-colored pants.
“Hi,” she smiled back. “How are you doing?” At his puzzled look, she continued, “at the tables and the slots?” she prompted, indicating his bucket.
“Eh, all right, I suppose. My brother is apparently better at this than I am.” He gave her a wry smile. Her return smile could have lit up the room.
“And what are you better at than him?”
Sam actually had to think a moment before responding. “Research. And the internet.” He chuckled at the last remark, as Dean didn’t even know what MySpace was. She genuinely laughed when he told her that too.
“Well, maybe I can help you out. It’s my job to see that you do all the gambling you can while you’re here.”
“Oh yeah? What’s your job?”
“I’m a casino host. And don’t tell anyone,” she leaned in to Sam to whisper something to him, “I’m technically the owner too.”
“Wow, that’s just, uhm...” Sam replied when she sat up straight again. “... cool,” he finished.
“Well, you can thank my dead, ex-husband for that.” She was quiet a moment, looking away from Sam to the wall across from her. She looked back at Sam. “So, want someone to show you the ropes?”
He smiled at her. “Sure. I’m Sam by the way.”
She laughed then, and held out her hand to shake his. “I’m Sam too. Sam Marquez.”
Sam Winchester just snickered as they slid off barstools and reentered the casino floor.
Sam Marquez gave him pointers for all the games. They moved from table to table, and he would play a few hands of cards, and she would encourage him to keep betting. Every so often, her phone would go off, and she’d have to take the call, or she’d disappear off to another part of the floor. She’d always come back, and was always by his side, cheering him on.
One of the calls that night was from Delinda, asking to meet her in the lobby.
“Who’s the hot guy you’re hangin’ with?” she wanted to know.
“Just a newbie. He’s here the weekend, and knows like next to nothing,” she said, sounding bored.
“Your whale is supposed to be here tomorrow afternoon. You’ll be up for it?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, distracted.
“Sam?” Delinda waved her hand in front of Sam’s eyes. “Aww, how cute. Go back to your newbie...” she trailed off, fishing for a name.
“Sam,” she said. “His name is Sam,” she smiled, and watched Delinda do the same. Then she headed back to the table where her newbie was winning.
All to quickly, several hours had passed, and Sam realized that while he’d missed dinner, he wasn’t hungry at all. His pile of chips would grow, and then drop down to almost nothing, and then grow again. There was something insanely addicting about this, he realized when he looked at his watch and it read 2:00 a.m. He glanced around and found it very interesting that there were no clocks on the casino floor either.
They were at the roulette table when his number was called, and he won a massive pile of chips. Picking them up, he turned to his hostess, and leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“Would you like to come back to my room for a little bit?” Something about the night emboldened him to ask her, even though she had a million reasons to turn him down, the least of which was she was the owner and he was just a patron.
Her eyes seemed to smile.
“I have one more thing to do, but we can do that on the way out.”
He gathered up his chips and went to exchange some back to cash, and found that she was right behind him.
“Hey Jack,” she said to the man working the cage.
“Oh hey, Sam,” he said.
“You know I’ll need more for tomorrow, right? High-roller coming in for a few days.” She smiled at him, and he nodded vigorously.
“Sure thing, Ms. Marquez. Anything for you.”
“It’s Sam, remember?” At his nod, she smiled. “I believe this young man has some chips to exchange,” she indicted the taller Sam with a motion of her head. Jack exchanged the chips for cash, which Sam put in another pocket from the few chips he hadn’t cashed in.
He marveled at the few $1,000-chips he’d kept, and wondered what Dean’s expression would be when he showed his brother the four orange chips he’d held onto.
~*~
“Oh wow, they gave you one of the nicer rooms,” she said as Sam Winchester opened the door for her. He closed the door and stared around the plush suite that was the size of some of the entire apartments he’d lived in growing up.
“Yeah, I ... see that,” he faltered a little.
She trailed her hand along the leather couch that was prominent in the room, and looked around, even though she’d seen it all before. He just stood there, trying not to gape at the furnishings.
She went over to him, and started to unbutton his shirt. He caught her wrist and held it tight.
“What are you doing?” he said, his voice sounding rough.
“Trying to make you more comfortable, is all,” she said sweetly. “You do want to be comfortable, right?” she even batted her eyelashes as well. He thought she was over-acting. Still holding her wrist, he pulled her closer and leaned down to kiss her on the lips. His kiss was almost as rough as his voice.
He let go of her wrist and she squeaked in surprise when he cupped her ass and picked her up. Automatically, her legs went around his waist. They were now at the same height, and she returned the kiss just as fiercely.
Still holding her, they headed for the bedroom and shut the door.
They made love, fast and furious at first, then slow and sensual. She suggested the hot tub, which was a very satisfying experience for both. It was a few hours later, after they overturned the couch in their frenzied fucking, they crawled back into bed and fell asleep.
At least Sam Marquez did. Sam Winchester was still wide awake at 5 a.m. He got dressed and went back down to the casino floor, cursing both his brother and the pretty casino host in his bed. He worked the floor for about two hours, and then returned to his room. She was still sleeping, so he got undressed and slid quietly into the bed next to her, and fell asleep.
She was gone when he woke around lunchtime.
~*~
Samantha Jane Marquez was good at her job. She made sure her high-roller, or whales as she called them, was situated at his favorite poker table, and went in search of the young man she’d spent the night with. Very uncharacteristic of her, she hated to leave him, but she had to go to work.
“So? Spill - tell me all about him.” was the first thing Delinda asked when she saw Sam that morning as they walked towards the cage.
“Him who?” she replied.
“Oh, Sam. You know. Sam. The guy?”
“Oh,” she said, waving Delinda off, “he’s a guy. You know.”
“No, I don’t ‘you know.’ You were all distracted over him yesterday, so tell me.”
Sam stopped walking and turned to the blonde.
“I slept with him.” She stared walking again, and the taller woman actually had to almost run to catch her.
“No way! Sam - ”
She put up a hand to stop the chatter. “That was it, the one night. I’m over it.” And she walked away, over to the cage to make sure the money for her whale was all ready to go.
She smiled on the way back to the floor, and passed Danny McCoy, head of Security. She waved, but didn’t really see him as she walked by.
“Sam - ?” he questioned, and was utterly confused when she didn’t stop. He spun around and stared after her as she entered the floor.
When she got to the blackjack table, she nearly tripped over her own sandals. At the table, with a large pile of chips in front of him was that guy, Dean, who had kissed her the previous evening. She put her fingers to her lips, as if she could feel his lips on hers. Quickly, she put her hand down on the table. Don’t be silly, Sam, she chided herself.
She saw him look up from his cards. He looked at her and smiled. She felt as if she were outside in the heat. She never blushed. What the hell was going on here?
“Actually, there is something I need during my weekend here,” she heard beside her. When she turned, Dean had moved his seat to be next to her.
She slipped in to host mode without thinking. “A nice soak in the hot tub, we have racquetball courts, an upscale restaurant, whatever you’d like.”
“A burger and fries?”
“Done,” she said almost instantly.
“With you sitting opposite me,” he clarified. She fumbled for the words to say no, but she surprised herself.
“I know just the place,” she said after a moment. “When you’re done with the cards,” she said, indicating the game he was half paying attention to.
“I’m good,” he said, looking at his cards, and holding up a hand to indicated to the dealer to stop. He turned over the remaining card for a total of 21 points, collected his chips, and left the table with her.
She noticed that today, instead of a white shirt, he was wearing an oh-so-tight black t-shirt that was covered by a denim overshirt, which matched his jeans. Why did she even notice that? and why was she going with him to the burger joint down the street? Wasn’t she supposed to keep the visitors in the Montecito?
As they walked, she asked, “Do you mind driving?”
“Hell no, fine with me.”
They walked to the place in the garage where Dean had parked the car the day before, and unlocked and opened Sam’s door for her. She stared a moment before getting in.
“This is '67 Chevy Impala!” she finally gasped after Dean got in next to her. He smiled.
“I know.” And he turned the engine over.
~*~
“Hey Sam,” Danny McCoy called out to her when she and Dean re-entered the casino some time later. She tried to wave him off again, but he caught her arm.
“What are you doing?” he whispered loudly. “You have a whale who’s been looking for you all afternoon.”
“I only stepped out for an hour,” she said, looking offended, and yanking back her arm from him.
“Try three hours,” Danny hissed. “Do you even know who this guy is?”
“He’s new in town,” she said, starting to explain.
“See? New. You don’t even know the guy.” Danny flicked a glance at “the guy,” who was watching the entire exchange with a bemused look on his face.
“Now,” Danny finished, “hope Delinda’s doing a good job with your whale.” He turned away from her and headed towards the security room.
“Pleasant man,” Dean said when she turned back to him.
“Head of security,” she returned. Dean was silent, surprisingly not knowing what to say to the beautiful girl next to him.
“You should go - ” He started to tell her she should probably get back to work when she reached up and kissed him on his lips.
“I’ll find you in a little bit,” she said, her voice cheerful as he watched her skip through the crowd to one of the tables. She met up with an older man who looked as out of place in a casino as Sammy did. He scanned the room, but didn’t see his brother, and figured he was crashed in his room from a late night of gambling. Now that he thought about it, Dean hadn’t seen his brother since the previous evening. Eh, he would have called or paged if he needed to pester Dean for anything.
Dean turned his attention back to the dark-haired casino host as she smiled at all the guests, young and old. He found a seat at a Blackjack table where he could play and watch her at the same time.
True to her word, she did come back over to him after a few hours of schmoozing her clients. She reached up, and holding onto the buttons of his overshirt, kissed him again.
“I’m pretty sure I can help you out with something that isn’t the standard with a casino host. Only for you though.” And Dean swore she winked at him.
“Well, what did you have in mind?”
She kissed him again, and between nips on his lower lip, she said, “Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” she teased.
“I’d pick you up right here and carry you to my room, but - ”
“Yeah, security cameras,” she supplied.
Dean picked her up and carried her to his room anyway.
They didn’t need to talk, they knew what to do together, how to move sensually in a dance as old as time. Her mind did drift momentarily to her encounter just the previous night, but this was so different than anything she’d ever experienced. He was very attentive to her, and made sure her body was ready for him with the most exquisite torture. She thought she’d rather die first, but it was pure heaven when they did connect in the most primal of ways.
Nowhere was sacred in his room: the bed, the floor, the couch, the coffee table, and against the wall. They were back in the bed when she lazily suggested in the shower. He looked at his watch on the night table, which read almost 2 a.m. Grinning wickedly, and kissing her fully on the lips, he led her into the shower.
After a very cleansing and sensual shower, they snuggled on the couch, and Dean flipped through the channels. She stopped him when he came to a grainy picture of a woman being chased by a monster.
“This looks good,” she said, putting her hand on his, which was holding the remote.
“Woman after my own heart,” he said, and leaned over and kissed the top of her head. She looked up at him, and he kissed her lips. They fell asleep watching Psycho Scarecrow.
~*~
In the security office, Danny McCoy was pacing. He’d called his partner Mike Cannon, to come in and help him figure out what was going on with Sam Marquez. She normally didn’t shun her duties and blow off whales like she did that day.
Mike had grumbled about Danny calling him at 1 in the morning, but 15 minutes later, he was watching video of Sam talking and laughing with two different men on the various monitors.
“Mike, can you video IQ these guys for me?” Danny said, watching Sam on the casino floor with the taller of the two from Friday’s footage.
Mike scanned through the video he had of the two men, and studied it for quite some time. After scrolling thought the footage, he let out an exasperated sigh.
“These guys are good, Danny. They know there’s cameras. Like here,” Mike stopped at a picture of the shorter one. His back was to the camera the whole time, and as the man and Sam walked down the hall, he held back and turned his head and twisted himself in such a way that Sam wouldn’t realize what he was doing.
Mike and Danny looked through the tape and the footage many times over early that morning. Finally, at about 5 a.m., their eyes in need of serious closing, both Mike and Danny found the same spot of video: Sam and the shorter man were returning from the parking garage into the Montecito, and his face caught the camera full-on. It was only for a frame or two, but it was enough.
Within moments, Mike had the video IQ searching for a match. It seemed to take longer than it should, until the computer beeped with a match - a mug shot from Little Rock, Arkansas. Nice laundry list of charges, including murder. His name was Dean Winchester.
“Gotcha,” Danny said, smiled, and thumped Mike on his back for his efforts. Mike had to chuckle when a second picture appeared on the screen. It was the same type of mug shot, also from Little Rock. The name of the taller man was Sam Winchester.
~*~
Sunday morning woke Dean from the couch, still stiff, but she was gone. He lifted his arm to look at his watch, which read 7 a.m. Perfect. He stood, straightened out his clothes so it didn’t look like he slept on the couch in them, grabbed his bag from the bed, and left the room.
That morning, Sam Winchester was awakened to the sound of someone pounding on his door. He roused himself from the bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and shrugged into a shirt and opened the door.
“Time to go, man,” Dean said with no preamble. “Get your stuff and let's split.”
“What? Uhm, ok, Dean. Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“Ran into the security guy yesterday afternoon. I’m pretty sure he saw my face, and can identify me. And from me, he can get you.”
“And you didn’t tell me this last night because....?”
“I was busy,” he replied, not really answering his brother’s question.
“Okay then,” Sam said, gathering up his few belongings and stuffing them into a knapsack.
As they were going down the hall, Sam asked his brother to hold out his hand.
“What? Why? You all right there, Sammy?”
“Sure. Just do it, Dean.”
Dean stopped, sighed, and held out his hand. Sam placed some chips in his brother’s palm.
“You’re supposed to cash these out when you leave the floor. Why didn’t you?” He hadn’t looked at his hand yet.
“You didn’t when you gave me one the other night,” Sam said back. Finally Dean looked down. In his palm were five orange chips.
“Holy Christ, Sam!” Dean just about yelled, but Sam had continued walking down the hallway. “Sammy?” Dean called, catching up to his brother. “This is awesome, dude!”
Sam turned back to Dean, smiled, and kept walking. Dean caught up again.
“You have to cash these in, man,” he said. Sam stopped walking to let Dean get a little ahead. Dean was talking a mile a minute about cashing in the chips, he earned them, and they could use the cash.
In the end, Sam cashed in all of his and Dean’s chips, but saved a black $100 chip to remember the weekend.
Once they were in the car and on the road, the Strip in their rearview mirror, Sam turned slightly in his seat to face his brother.
“So, what all did you do after we separated Friday?”
“I had the most awesome burger for lunch yesterday,” he said.
“All you think about is your stomach, Dean!”
“And the company of a great casino hostess,” he added, turning and winking at his brother.
“Oh really?” Sam asked, curious now.
“Really. Slender, brunette. Promised me she’d see to whatever I needed.”
“Huh. I had one of those too,” Sam said.
“You had a casino host, Sammy boy?”
“I did,” Sam smirked at his brother. “Want to know the weirdest thing?” he asked. Dean raised his eyebrows, thinking about his weekend. The gesture indicated that Sam should continue, but Dean jumped in with his own answer. Interestingly enough, they both replied at the same time.
“Her name was Sam,” they said in unison. There was silence as Sam glared at Dean, and Dean glared back.
“No way, dude,” Sam said after a moment.
“Apparently, yes, dude.”
“Jerk,” Sam said.
“Bitch,” Dean retorted.
~*~
“Sam, about those guys - ” Danny started to tell her in the security office later Sunday afternoon.
“Of course they were bad news,” she said, not needing to hear the rest of what Danny was going to tell her. “Story of my life.”
“I’m sorry, Sam.”
“Don’t apologize, Danny. I’m used to being screwed over.” She headed down to the floor to see how her whale was faring, thinking about the brothers. She sighed. How did she keep ending up with the bad apples? She’d miss them, that was for certain. And Sam Marquez wasn’t supposed to have feelings. Not really.“You got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count you r money when you’re sittin’ at the table.
There’ll be time enough for countin’ when the dealin’s done.”
***
Supernatural Fan Fiction
For entertainment only
© 2007 by Caren Franco
Only Delia and Jack are original. Beta-read by Aphrodite, Bodge, ChevyGirl, ClarksMuse, ILuvRoadrunner, MoonDropz and Valeria. Dean and Sam Winchester were created by Eric Kripke, Robert Singer, Kripke Enterprises Scrap Metal and Entertainment; Warner Brothers and the CW. Samantha Jane Marquez, Delinda Deline, Mike Cannon, and Danny McCoy and the Montecito were as created by Gary Scott Thompson Productions, NBC Universal Television, and DreamWorks Television. “A Little Less Conversation” from the “Live a Little, Love a Little” Soundtrack, sung by Elvis Presley, ©1968. “The Gambler” from “The Gambler” by Kenny Rogers, ©1978.
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