Supernatural: To Home Afar
Title: To Home Afar
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Jess
Genre: Schmoop and Meta-Parading-as-Schmoop
Rating: PG-13 for Some (very tame) Sexuality
Word Count: 7,066
Author’s Note: Written for the spn_hetexchange for opheliahyde. I wrote for the two picture prompts (1 & 2) and tried to work in these things that you said you like: “I prefer characterization and plot over porn most days, and I’m a schmoopy girl at heart always. If you go with plot, I love: domestic!fic in all forms, hurt/comfort, lots of making out & snuggling & hand-holding & awkwardness. Tenderness and sweetness are major bonus points, with forehead kisses and hugs from the behind and little touches.” Beta'd by wutendeskind. Knocking out "Bedtime Rituals" for schmoop_bingo.
Summary: Tired of leaving Sam behind on holidays, Jess takes Sam home with her for Memorial Day weekend.
Alternate Link: http://community.livejournal.com/spn_hetexchange/10267.html
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Sam Winchester is a mystery. This is what attracts Jess to him, or rather, it’s the first thing that suggests their relationship might extend past a really enjoyable one night stand. Jess has always loved to play with numbers and puzzles. Piecing together missing chunks of a story to uncover a bigger, better whole is something she’s been doing her whole life. She likes to think she’s good at it, but she gives up on figuring Sam out after a year of determined study.
They’re introduced by a friend and Sam is everything Brady promised he would be-tall and handsome with a sharp sense of humor and a smile that could charm just about anyone. Sam is not the kind of guy who really has to work very hard to get a girl’s attention and Jess makes it clear that she’s up for a good time that first night they meet. Sam surprises her by not going for it. Jess is used to having to beat guys away and it’s not hurt pride so much as confusion and a little bit of relief that she feels when Sam says goodnight without trying anything.
They meet up a few more times and Sam is a perfect gentleman. Jess can tell he’s interested and it makes no sense to her that what seems like a perfectly well-adjusted, charismatic guy gets shy and starts to second guess himself every time they’re alone. It’s cute in an exhausting way, and Jess finally gets fed up after a couple of weeks and asks, point blank, if Sam is going to take her out to dinner any time soon or not. Sam smiles that smile that makes Jess’s knees tremble and from that point on, they’re an item.
Jess has had a few steady boyfriends before. She’s even been in love, or whatever passes for being in love in high school. She’s never been a girl who falls fast or falls hard, but what happens with Sam is out of her control.
Sam doesn’t ever say anything overtly sentimental or make sweeping romantic gestures, but something in the way he touches her, the way he looks at her, screams love after only a few months. He never lets her in, so she doesn’t know why, but when he’s holding her at night, Jess knows how much he cherishes her. He acts like she’s something precious that he’s not allowed to have. Jess has no earthly conception of what she did to become so important, but it’s hard to know someone cares that much about you and not love them right back.
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Sam doesn’t talk about his past, doesn’t mention his family, not ever. Jess has recited the stories of her childhood so many times that Sam knows all of her cousins by name and personality type, but the only thing Sam ever tells her is that his mother died when he was a baby. The day Jess realizes this is not the great tragedy of Sam’s life is the day Jess finally admits that she will never really understand her boyfriend.
She’s always tried to learn more about him, of course. Asking questions about his family gets nowhere, as does trying to find out where he came from, but if Jess is careful and doesn’t make her prodding too obvious, Sam drops clues. One day, he says more than he means to: the day he first mentions Dean.
Jess didn’t even know Sam had a brother, not until they’d been together for more than a year. After the first time Sam says Dean’s name, he becomes a ghost-ever present, always watching out for Sam and keeping Jess on edge. Jess knows instinctively that Sam suddenly being able to talk about Dean is a great sign of trust, so she handles that trust responsibly and never asks for more than Sam will give.
At first, Jess assumes the worst of Sam’s brother-Sam’s absent brother who never bothers with so much as a phone call. Just the mention of Dean’s name…even when Sam is saying something completely harmless, funny stories that make him smile-a few seconds later his eyes cloud over and his lips turn down. By now Jess knows a little more. Dean didn’t hurt Sam, Sam hurt them both. She never finds out how or why. She just learns to read the guilty edge in Sam’s tone.
Despite whatever happened between them, it’s obvious to Jess that Sam misses his brother. She pretends not to hear the messages Sam leaves from other rooms some nights, acts like she doesn’t notice Sam getting excited over every text just to deflate when it’s not from Dean. Jess gets the paradoxical impression that Sam has been loved both too much and not nearly enough in his life.
Sam never talks about missing his Dad or friends he left behind, but Dean’s name is almost sacred on the rare occasion Sam says it. Jess will always be second in Sam’s heart and she knows that, but she can’t be as upset over it as she thinks she should be. When Sam pulls her in and falls asleep with his lips pressed to her neck, Jess can’t bring herself to question it. Second-best or not, he loves her more than anyone else ever will.
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It’s the holidays that break Jess’s heart. Special occasions, no matter how minor or irrelevant, turn the happy, healthy man she loves into someone she doesn’t recognize. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s, Sam’s birthday, hell, even Jess’s birthday, as if that makes any sense. She watches Sam for most of sophomore year and all of junior year and Jess doesn’t have to see Sam on the holidays when she goes home to know it’s even worse.
Sam always waits for something to happen. He sits by the window, book open and ignored on his lap, and checks his cell repeatedly. Jess will invite him along to parties and Sam will shake his head and look down at his phone like there’s something important he knows is coming any moment. He doesn’t ever tell Jess he’s waiting for Dean, and Jess never points out that Dean isn’t coming.
By the end of junior year, it’s gotten to be too much. Jess knows she’s going to miss Sam all summer and the idea of leaving him now, earlier than she has to, is like tearing off a limb. All she can think about is the break for Thanksgiving coming in a few months and the fact that Sam will have nowhere to be, nothing to do.
Every year, her parents insist she goes home for Memorial Day weekend-this year is no exception, and Jess can’t shake the bad idea lurking in the back of her mind. A trial trip: her and Sam at her parents’. If it goes well, maybe she can convince him to come for Thanksgiving, then Christmas. Maybe she can finally find a way to get Sam to let her in and stop the worry for him that leaves Jess too stressed to enjoy her vacations. She thinks that, if she can make Sam smile just once on a holiday, then maybe she’ll deserve the affection he gives her. She loves him and she wants him to love her like that forever, so she tries, assuming the answer will be no.
“You…really? I mean, is that a good idea?”
“Well, you have to meet them some day. They’ve invited you, Sam. I think it’ll be fun.” Jess sits up and crawls to the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around Sam’s middle and looking up at him. “You don’t have other plans, do you?”
Sam turns his face away, just hardly frowning, and Jess thinks she said the wrong thing. He’s quiet for a long time.
“Yeah, okay,” Sam says, tentative and, if Jess is being honest, a little bit defeated. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Jess smiles, buries her face in his chest, and silently thanks him for giving her the chance to make things right for him.
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The Friday before Memorial Day, Jess skips her morning class and arrives at Sam’s apartment three hours early out of sheer excitement. He’s running around shoving things in a duffel as if he’s going to be tested on the contents and when he sees Jess, he snaps out of it and looks confused for a few seconds before smiling.
“You almost ready?” she asks, hoping to ease the tension. “The shuttle won’t be here to take us to the airport for a few hours, but I was hoping we could grab some brunch.”
“Yeah, I, uhh. I don’t think I can eat,” Sam says, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “I’m kind of nervous.”
“My parents are going to love you, Sam,” Jess promises and she’s pretty sure it’s the truth. Sam makes a face like it hadn’t even occurred to him to be worried about that yet.
“No, it’s the plane. I’m not really scared, I’m just not used to it. It’s kind of new to me.”
“But you’ve been everywhere,” Jess protests. Sam’s frequent travels are the only thing Jess does know about his life before Stanford.
“Drove. Everywhere. I haven’t actually ever been on a plane.”
Jess spends the rest of the morning teasing him, but when they get to the airport, Sam discovers that flying doesn’t really bother him at all and they land on time after a long but relatively smooth flight.
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Jess already has a car reserved when they land, and Sam’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas when she asks if he wants to drive.
“I never get to drive,” Sam says, taking the keys with a big smile. While it’s true enough that they don’t drive on campus, Jess has a feeling this has more to do with Dean and what stories lead Jess to believe is a bad case of separation anxiety with his car.
They don’t talk much as they drive to Jess’s parents house-she points out sights and tells Sam stories and he fidgets nervously as if he’s driving to his own funeral.
“Why didn’t you go to Harvard?” Sam asks when they’re finally leaving Boston city limits and Jess sits up with a start, realizing she’s drifted off.
“I wanted something new, I guess,” she says with a yawn, watching the familiar stretch of road leading to the little town Jess calls home. “Everyone expected me to go to Harvard.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”
Jess looks at the smile Sam’s trying to hide and she thinks, I am, too.
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When they pull up in front of the house, Sam’s eyes go wide and for the first time since she met him, he looks genuinely terrified.
“You okay, Sam?”
“It’s just kind of…bigger than I was expecting.”
Jess doesn’t know what to say to that and it only gets worse when they get to the door. Jess’s mother opens it and smiles wide before welcoming Sam with a hug. He freezes up and reverts so far back into himself that Jess thinks this was probably the worst idea she’s ever had.
“Aren’t you just every bit as gorgeous as Jessica said you were?” Her mother asks with a smile. Sam blushes and looks away.
“Mom, do you mind?”
“Jessica doesn’t talk about anything else. We thought she had to be exaggerating, but it looks like I gave her my good taste.”
Jess’s mother winks at him and welcomes them both inside, completely oblivious to Sam’s discomfort. Jess tries to smile reassuringly and does everything she can to ignore the lost-little-boy look Sam aims back at her.
“Princess!”
“Hi, Daddy!” Jess is enveloped in a bear hug before she even sees her father. She pulls out of his arms and takes Sam’s hand, pulling him forward.
“Mom, Dad, this is Sam Winchester. Sam, these are my parents.”
“Hello, Mrs. Moore, Mr. Moore, it’s great to finally-”
“Now, none of that Mr. and Mrs. Moore nonsense. Just call me Dick and this little lady here is Charlotte.”
“Sorry, sir,” Sam says.
“Did you two have a good flight? I’m afraid we had to go ahead and have dinner without you, but there are leftovers sitting out on the counter. I trust you know what to do, sweetheart.”
“You guys didn’t wait up just for us?” Jess asks, knowing full well they did.
“Of course we did, baby. Couldn’t have slept without saying hello to my little girl. Sam, it was wonderful to meet you. I’m sorry I can’t stay around to chat, I’m beat. You two get to bed soon, alright?”
Jess nods and watches her mother scramble up the stairs. Her father gives her a goodnight kiss and pats Sam on the shoulder before following his wife. Sam looks dazed, like he has no idea what just happened, and Jess thinks it’s a good start to the trip.
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Saturday is all theirs. Sam sleeps in the guest room down the hall from the kitchen and Jess passes it on her way to grabbing some toast and starting coffee. She finds that he’s sitting up in bed, essentially hiding from her parents by pretending not to be awake yet.
“I’m beginning to question all of that testosterone I had so much faith in,” Jess says, leaning against the doorway. Sam’s body startles and he turns to look at her and smiles.
“I’m not hiding, if that’s what you think.”
“It’s my mom, isn’t it? You have the hots for her and you’re embarrassed. It’s okay, Sam. I’m totally used to being overlooked for her.”
“Actually it’s the Chihuahua. I live in fear.”
Jess throws her head back and laughs at the mental image of Sam, simultaneously towering over and cowering from, her mother’s prized yappy-but-harmless puppy.
“You hungry?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to get out of this bed. The sheets alone probably cost more than…” Sam trails off. “My point is: it’s a really nice bed.”
“You stay here and think about that and we’ll see if you waver when the scent of coffee hits you.”
Sam smirks. Ten minutes later, he shows up in the kitchen, his face reminding Jess of those cartoons where the animals literally float in the direction of particularly delicious-smelling food.
Jess is talking to her father when Sam comes in. He stops next to her but doesn’t seem to know how to stand, so Jess pulls him in and rests her body against his.
“I was just telling Daddy what our plans for the day are.”
“Oh, good. Maybe he can let me know. She’s being very cryptic.”
“Don’t tell him, I want it to be a surprise.”
Jess’s father smiles and raises a hand like he’s just trying to keep the peace. “I’m not getting involved here. Don’t worry, son, I’m pretty sure your life isn’t in any danger.”
Sam stands there, looking like he’s uncomfortable with how easy Jess’s Dad is being and when Jess sets toast down on the counter next to her father’s and motions for Sam to sit, he asks to look at the pages in the paper that Dick’s finished as if he’s half-convinced he’s going to be yelled at for it. When all he gets is a sound of acknowledgement and a stack of newspaper sliding in his direction, Sam takes a deep breath, sits back, and let’s all of the tension drain out of his body.
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Their hands are tangled as they walk down the street at a lazy stroll. Jess shows Sam the neighbor’s swing that gave her the scar on her arm, points out where her best friend used to live, carefully forgets to mention that boy-next-door who years ago was the object of Jess’s unrequited teenage angst. The weather’s perfect, just a little on the warm side, but the summer hasn’t had the chance to become oppressive yet and there’s a soft breeze as Jess walks Sam down residential streets towards the shops that used to be Jess’s regular hangouts.
They have lunch in the diner Jess worked in during her summers off in high school and her former boss, Mr. Patterson, refuses to let her pay. The little old man comes over and jokes for the better part of their meal and Sam sits and watches them rehash old stories about things Jess burnt with a wide smile.
Next they hit the park; Jess sits on the swing and talks to Sam about nothing as they watch children run in circles. Sam spends twenty minutes pushing one pigtailed little girl and Jess decides that Sam will make a wonderful father. Jess doesn’t think she’ll do too bad, either, and it’s the first time she’s ever let herself wonder if maybe they’ll be raising their kids together.
After the park, Jess walks him back to the row of stores they’d passed earlier, Sam mocking the displays in every window they pass, until they get to the place that Jess secretly engineered the entire day around.
“Moby Dick’s Fudge?” Sam asks, one eyebrow arching to match the quirk of his lips.
“I don’t know what that face is all about.”
Sam smiles. “Just never figured you for a fudge girl, is all.”
“That’s because there is nowhere in California with fudge that will ever satisfy you once you try what I’m about to treat you to.”
Sam allows her to nudge him inside and admits after being forced to try Double Chocolate, Chocolate Walnut, and Cape Cod Cranberry that Moby Dick’s Fudge was probably the best idea Jess will ever have in her entire life.
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The walk back to Jess’s house is more subdued. Not less enjoyable exactly, but it lacks the energy and novelty of their stroll earlier that morning. Occasionally, Sam will ask a question, or Jess will remember a story from something they pass, but mostly they move sluggishly, hands melded together as they both refuse to admit that they might have overdone themselves on the fudge.
They come home to a familiar scene, or at least a once-familiar scene that Jess aches for all year while she’s away only to feel like she never left it when she visits. The door opens to the overwhelming aroma of dinner and the less welcoming sound of her mother singing along to tacky music from the kitchen. Sam blinks a few times and then smiles a tiny, private smile and Jess wonders whether the moment would mean more or less if it wasn’t one she’s repeated her entire life.
They head to the living room and watch the news for about forty-five minutes before her mother calls them in for dinner and they head back to join Jess’s parents at the table. The conversation is stilted at first: Jess’s mother asks about Sam’s family and receives nonanswers that Sam delivers guiltily. Eventually she gives up, asking about their day instead. Things get better from there.
By the time dessert rolls around, Jess’s father is talking to Sam about the places he visited back when he was young enough to travel and Jess doesn’t know why she feels so sorry that Sam knows almost all of them from firsthand experience.
“Alright, alright. You win, son,” Dick finally says good-humoredly, pointing a spoon in Sam’s face. “I haven’t been anywhere in ages. Last time we traveled it was…”
“Salem in 2001, dear,” Jess’s mother offers.
Dad nods and then shrugs. “And I don’t even think that counts as going far enough to be travel.”
Sam laughs but doesn’t say anything.
“You ever been to Salem, Sam? Place gives me the creeps. All that what-not about witches.”
“It’s actually not as haunted as Boston,” Sam says matter-of-factly, blushing as soon as it’s out. “I mean, according to the, uh, legends and stuff. Boston has more actual…stories. If you believe that kind of thing.”
Jess cocks her head and watches Sam squirm, because she hadn’t ever guessed he would know something like that, but her dad makes a speculative sound and seems to be interested.
“You know a lot about that stuff?” he finally asks, his tone blatantly playful and Sam lets out a deep breath-Jess almost wants to call it relieved.
“Just the things that come up when you’re looking into local history,” Sam ducks his head, “I always like to learn the histories of the places I visit.”
Jess has to take a sip of her water to hide her smile, because she knows before her father sits up and smacks the table in excitement that Sam has just won a permanent spot in his heart.
Twenty minutes later, Dick takes Sam into the living room from the table, still rambling on about all the history of his town, convinced it would be a disservice to let a local history buff leave without knowing just how rich the place he’s visiting is. He offers Sam a cigar, which Sam declines, and a glass of whiskey, which Sam accepts, and Jess sits with her head on Sam shoulder for hours half-following their conversation and wondering how the hell Sam manages to not only pretend interest, but to genuinely feel it.
At one point, Sam corrects Dick on a date and her father makes a face like he’s just fallen in love when he realizes Sam is right. Jess has never seen anyone out-geek her father on this subject, and she nearly splits her face in half smiling at the way Sam gets along with the other most important man in her life.
She says goodnight before they do.
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The blissfully peaceful vacation turns into complete chaos on Sunday, just like Jess had known it would. Relatives start arriving shortly after breakfast and there are more and more cars pulling up until well past noon. Jess welcomes the string of aunts; uncles; cousins; finally her sister, Sarah; nieces and nephews; and all of their spouses or significant others as if she was still hostess and not visiting just as much as they are.
Sam greets each new face with the same removed warmth that Jess has seen so many times at school and does a remarkable job hiding his smirks when he meets someone he’s already heard too much about and formed a solid opinion on.
Once everyone’s arrived, the family falls into the same Memorial Day traditions that have been boring Jess for as long as she can remember. She and her sister sit aside from the older women of the family, catching up and watching the men all play some version of football that lacks rules or discipline and looks more like monkey in the middle.
“I don’t think he’s making any friends,” Sarah says, laughing as she watches her husband, George, scowl at Sam’s back. Sam has just folded what George probably thought was an unbeatable play for the fourth time in a row.
“Not his fault he’s good at football.” Jess smiles unapologetically.
Sarah turns to face her. “It wasn’t his fault he was good at chess, either. Or tennis. Anything he isn’t good at?”
“Losing,” Jess replies without missing a beat.
After the game, the men and women mix again, some heading inside to watch television, some staying outside while their children chase each other, or throwing a Frisbee around. Remembering how Sam and her father had gotten along the day before, Jess is unsurprised to spot Sam talking to him by the grill, a beer in hand and a smile on his face.
Jess loses track of him for a while, swept away in an ocean of older cousins who all pick her up and throw her around, as troublesome, obnoxious, and affectionate as they always are. When she finally escapes, only slightly worse for the wear, Sam is no longer with her father. He tells her Sam headed inside a while ago and Jess bites her lip before heading into the house after him.
The last place in the world that Jess expects to find him is in the kitchen playing sous chef to her mother, but that’s where he is. Sam isn’t a dunce about cooking-he’s never made anything inspired, but he knows his way around a pretty decent selection of dishes. When she walks in, however, Sam is chopping onions so fast Jess worries he’ll lose a finger. Jess pours herself a glass of wine and sits at the counter, electing to observe whatever she’d walked in on.
Sam runs back and forth, taking his mother’s instructions to heart as if it’s some kind of privilege to help make dinner for a small army of New England WASPs. They don’t talk much, or at least Sam doesn’t. Charlotte rambles on about a million little things, making light conversation and fluttering from one end of the kitchen to the other, like she always does when she’s frazzled.
Sam doesn’t seem to be listening to what she says, though he doesn’t look away from her once. When he has to get close to hand over the ingredients she asks for, he moves slowly, like he’s approaching a mystical creature he doesn’t want to startle for fear he’ll never see it again. It hits Jess’s heart like a punch to see him, so big and so gentle, eyes slightly glossy, looking like a kid that doesn’t understand what’s happening. Jess can’t stand watching it for too long and leaves soon after arriving, faking the sudden urge to help younger cousins find places to hide.
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“Chris, seriously?” Jess says, projecting her voice from the bathroom.
“Yeah, Chris. What’s so weird about it?”
“Christopher is the family asshole, Sam.”
“Well, I think he’s funny.”
“But really, that guy was your favorite? The first thing he did when he met you was try to pull a prank on you.”
“I felt very included,” Sam says, his smirk evident in his tone.
“He told us a story about his drunken college hookup at dinner with my blue-haired aunts.”
Big arms wrap around her middle from behind and Jess jumps, looking up at the mirror to find that Sam is suddenly in the room with her. Sometimes he can be unsettlingly quiet and the way it intersects with the speed and strength she saw while he was playing football makes her feel flushed and threatened all at once. Jess represses a shudder and tries not to think about what in Sam’s mysterious life could have required him to learn to move in those ways.
“He reminded me of someone.”
Jess swallows and turns her gaze down, as if putting toothpaste on her brush is the most interesting thing she will ever do. She doesn’t need Sam to tell her who Chris reminded him of enough to make his personality endearing to someone like Sam, someone who has nothing in common with him.
“What about Zach?”
“Oh God, Jess. I wanted to laugh the entire time I was talking to him. He was exactly like you described.”
Sam is still laughing when he bows his head and presses a soft kiss into her neck.
“Right? Right?” Jess laughs along with him, warmth spreading through her at the thought of how fast Sam’s found his place in her family.
She passes Sam his toothbrush and he only releases her and accepts it grudgingly. “This really isn’t weird to anyone but me?”
Sam throws a glance back into Jess’s bedroom, at the twin bed they’ll be sharing soon.
“Sam, we have a full house. Besides, I’m under the impression that this is the new thing. All of the baby boomers are trying to prove they haven’t turned into their parents by letting their kids share rooms with their significant others. It has less to do with trust and more to do with fads.”
“I guess,” says Sam, though there isn’t a shred of conviction behind it. He puts paste on his own toothbrush and begins to brush as Jess rinses.
Jess is already in bed when Sam slides in on the opposite side, pulling the covers over her and smoothing a hand softly down the curve of her body. He presses in close and kisses her, his lips moving to her neck and his hands ghosting over her body, making her breath hitch. Want sparks in her stomach and she gasps, annoyed because Sam knows exactly what he’s doing to her.
“Sam,” she whines, drawing his name out childishly.
“Jess,” he replies, imitating her perfectly.
“Mmm, you should…” She has every intention of telling him to stop until his fingertips just hardly move up her thighs and brush in between her legs. “Do it.”
Sam lets out an amused huff and sucks lightly on the skin below her neck, low enough that the mark won’t show tomorrow. She moans, aching for his mouth on her breast, but he pulls his lips back and grins. “Can’t do anything, Jessica. I’m appalled you’d suggest it. Your parents are sleeping right down the hall.”
“I don’t care,” she says, though she knows he’s right.
“Of course you do. I’m not going to get you in trouble.”
“Why are you torturing me if we’re not gonna get anything out of it?”
“Because I can.” Sam whispers it hot and low, right into her ear, though his teasing touches at least stop. “And when we get back, the things I’m gonna do to you, God. You looked so good today. I wanna see that dress again, sometime I can take advantage of it.”
Sam kisses her on the lips, tongue eager for attention that Jess can’t help giving him. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead on hers and breaths in deeply.
His fingers are still moving over the skin on her arm, but all of the intent has left and even their attempt at fitting into the cramped bed isn’t enough touching for Jess. She moves closer, lying half on top of Sam and he hesitates for less than a second before his arms wrap around her, one tangling in her hair, the other drawing her body towards him like a vice. Jess has no room to move and no desire to either. She curls her fingers around his bicep, just so he knows how much she wants him to hold her like that.
Jess closes her eyes and listens to his breathing, knowing that he smells her shampoo more than anything else with every inhale. She loves how soft he feels, how right it is to be curled on her childhood bed, doing nothing but clinging to each other.
“Thank you,” Sam says it after a long silence and Jess is pretty sure he thinks she’s sleeping.
She hardly musters the energy it takes to give his arm a reassuring squeeze, but Sam isn’t done.
“I love you. Just. I think you know that. But I want you to hear it.”
Jess looks up at him then, smiles. She thinks it should mean more, hearing him say those words out loud, but he’s said it so many times without words that it isn’t all that special this time. Somehow that makes it even better. Jess doesn’t bother saying anything, just presses a kiss to Sam’s chest, makes a warm sound, and falls asleep.
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Nobody stays for long the next day, everyone having long road trips or other plans for Memorial Day itself after the weekend cookout the Moores have every year. Only a handful of the guests who stayed the night are still around for breakfast and the last of the stragglers are packed into their cars an hour after.
Sam and Jess and even Jess’s parents all have a lazy day after that, recovering from the hectic atmosphere of the day before. They watch Memorial Day marathons of movies that don’t actually have anything to do with the holiday and eat their way through the mountain of leftovers from the day before, each person warming things up when they feel like it and nobody ever attempting to make a formal meal out of it.
It’s late evening when Jess finally gets the motivation to take a shower and she comes downstairs to find her mother cleaning up the mess left over from the day before.
“Mom, wait until tomorrow. Today is supposed to be about relaxing.”
“Oh, God, honey, I’ll be honest with you, I just needed an excuse to get out of that living room. Your father sunk his claws into poor Sam as soon as you left and hasn’t shut up since. I don’t know how the boy puts up with it.”
Jess chuckles. “I guess I should go save him, huh?”
“Before he takes off running, Jessica. Save your relationship while you still can.”
When Jess gets to the archway into the living room, however, there’s near silence inside. Jess gets the impression that the conversation is about to take a serious turn and, against her better judgment, she decides to hang back.
“Mr. Moore. Uh, Dick, I…there’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What’s that, son?” Her father asks, sensing Sam’s discomfort and doing his best to lessen it.
“Well. I. Jess and I have been pretty serious for over a year now, and-I don’t intend to do anything right away, sir, not until we graduate, but I don’t know if I’ll get another chance like this to-well, anyway. I’d like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
Jess leans slightly into the room, still hidden by the archway, until she can see her father’s expression. His eyebrows quirk and his mouth forms an amused expression, and she can almost hear him thinking: “Why didn’t anyone tell me I had veto power on my daughter’s spouses before I lost my eldest to that idiot?”
Jess’s stomach clenches. The whole scene is a little absurd, Sam’s face is set and serious, like he doesn’t realize that what he’s doing is more-or-less outdated and Dick seems to be trying his hardest not to laugh outright. She gets a momentary flair of worry when her father’s mouth turns down, he knows almost nothing about Sam’s history, just like Jess, but she knows he can tell his roots aren’t exactly glamorous. Her father’s always said he doesn’t care who she marries, as long as he makes her happy, but it’s possible that his tolerance for Sam’s background doesn’t extend as far as marriage when put in practice. Jess lifts her chin in determination, regardless of the fact that her father can’t see her. She knows that Sam will ask no matter what her father says, and she’s surprised to find there’s no question that she’ll say yes-Daddy’s girl or not.
“Jess is my little girl, you know. Her sister, I mean, I love both of my daughters. But Jess is my girl.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve noticed that, and I know how much your opinion means to her.”
“I want the best for her, can’t stand to see her married off to a loser. She’s too good for that.”
Sam’s jaw and fists clench and he sits up straighter. Stubbornness has never been a quality Sam lacks, but he plays it smart and says nothing.
“You’re not from a family like ours, are you? You’ve got no big house to go home to, no trust fund to fall back on.”
Sam shifts uncomfortably and Jess has to wonder when her father got so cruel.
“Don’t answer the question; I’ve had you figured since Jess first started talking about you. I’ve known guys like you my whole life. You remind me of my army buddies, actually, though I guess that makes no sense. You never served, right?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, you’d make a damn fine soldier.”
Jess realizes that her father has just put her finger on something she’s never understood about Sam, something she never would have thought of on her own.
“Fine soldier and good husband aren’t exactly the same thing, are they?” Sam shoots back, a little heated.
“No, no they are not.”
“So what you’re saying is-”
“What I’m saying is this: Jessica could have stayed here and married any of a number of boys from wealthy families and she would have a nice, padded life handed to her. But she didn’t. She worked her ass off her whole life; she got into that school on her own. She’s got something to prove and she’s proving it. And you? You never had anything handed to you, did you?”
“No, sir,” Sam says, deflated.
“I’m obviously not making myself clear here. You fought for what you have, and you fought hard. I respect that, son. You’re going to make something of yourself, much more than those spoiled kids Jess grew up with. You’re the kind of man who can look after a girl.”
“Jess doesn’t exactly need me to look after her, sir.”
“You’re damn right she doesn’t. And that’s why you’re the class of husband she deserves. Hell, if she’ll have you, I’ll be more than happy to foot the bill for that wedding.”
“What? Really?”
“I trust my girl’s judgment, Sam. And you’re a smart kid. I think you know how lucky anyone would be to have her.”
“Absolutely I do, sir.”
“That’s all I ask. Take good care of her. I’ve been dreading the day I have to give her away since she was five years old. It’ll be a load off my shoulders to see her settled with someone like you.”
Sam’s face crumples and Jess almost thinks he’s about to cry. She feels a hand squeeze her shoulder and turns to find her mother looking in on the scene, cheeks wet with tears.
“That boy will break my heart,” she says.
Jess has never known her mother to think for herself, has never seen her meditate deeply on anything but raising her children and keeping her husband happy. The look in her eyes now is almost profound, makes Jess wonder if she’s been underestimating her mother her whole life, or if Sam just pulls at every maternal string she has.
Jess gets an almost uncontrollable urge to run to Sam’s side, wrap her arms around him, and push the hair out of his face. Instead, she stays removed from the moment, taking her mother into her arms, and resting her chin on the crown of her head. “I’m going to fix that,” she promises, though she’s not really talking to her mother.
“You’re getting married,” she says after a long silence, squeezing Jess’s arm as she pulls out of the embrace. It’s not a question, and Jess doesn’t pretend for a moment that she has anything left to think about. Charlotte wipes at her eyes and does her best to smile, returning to the kitchen, presumably to vent her feelings cleaning for another hour. Jess focuses her attention back on her father and Sam. They still haven’t spoken, though neither is doing a very good job of pretending to pay attention to the television.
When Sam finally replies, his voice is stretched thin. “Thank you. I really appreciate this. I won’t let you down, sir.”
“How about you cut the sir crap, then?”
“I could do that, sir,” Sam’s mouth twitches, trying to resist a shit-eating grin, and Jess’s father snorts and grabs the remote, bringing the volume back from the whisper it had been set to while they’d been talking.
Jess waits for the tension in the atmosphere to melt away, until Sam is chuckling along with the sitcom her father has the TV tuned to, before announcing her presence in the room and settling on the couch, relaxing into Sam’s side.
“So what dazzling conversation am I interrupting?” Jess asks, hoping to come off convincingly nonchalant.
Jess watches Sam and her father exchange loaded looks, as if they’re keeping some big secret. “Sam was just telling me about his other girlfriend back in California. Sounds like you have some serious competition, pumpkin.”
Jess sticks her tongue out at her father, Sam just laughs. She falls asleep on the couch, lying against her boyfriend, and when her alarm goes off the next morning, she’s in the same place, though she’s mysteriously conjured a blanket and pillow overnight.
_______________________________________________________________
The goodbye breakfast is light. Sam takes too long packing and sends sorry looks at everything he’s leaving behind, even the dog (“loud, ill-tempered, glorified rat”) he’s spent the last three days complaining about.
At the door, Jess’s father gives Sam an unqualified invitation to come back for the next holidays, which Sam acknowledges with a nod, even though Jess knows he won’t take it. Not yet. Maybe next year, she thinks.
“Thank you so much for everything, Mrs. Moore,” he says once he’s already gotten the manly goodbye from her father.
“Oh, please, honey, just call me Mom,” Jess’s mother says. Jess winces, hoping Sam doesn’t take it wrong.
Sam says nothing; he moves forward and grabs her mother into a suffocating hug. Charlotte’s face is dazed when he lets go, but she doesn’t give him the chance to apologize. She just smiles and moves on to Jess.
_______________________________________________________________
She spends most of the flight back with her head on Sam’s shoulder as he stares out of the airplane window. They miss all of their classes, but they’d expected that, and Jess can’t bring herself to feel sorry regardless of the fact that finals are coming up. There’s no question on whether to split up and go back to their proper apartments. They both head to Sam’s, order Chinese, and curl up in bed, talking about everything that had happened over the weekend-not needing to talk about what had happened before, what would happen soon after.
“You miss being home?” Sam asks when they’re drifting off. Jess gives it a little thought before she realizes that she doesn’t really feel all that different in this moment than she had in Massachusetts.
“I am home, stupid,” she says, kissing his chest.
“Welcome home then,” says Sam, his voice teasing and serious in one breath.
Jess kisses Sam one last time and drifts off to sleep, hoping that this is all Sam needs to be home, too.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Jess
Genre: Schmoop and Meta-Parading-as-Schmoop
Rating: PG-13 for Some (very tame) Sexuality
Word Count: 7,066
Author’s Note: Written for the spn_hetexchange for opheliahyde. I wrote for the two picture prompts (1 & 2) and tried to work in these things that you said you like: “I prefer characterization and plot over porn most days, and I’m a schmoopy girl at heart always. If you go with plot, I love: domestic!fic in all forms, hurt/comfort, lots of making out & snuggling & hand-holding & awkwardness. Tenderness and sweetness are major bonus points, with forehead kisses and hugs from the behind and little touches.” Beta'd by wutendeskind. Knocking out "Bedtime Rituals" for schmoop_bingo.
Summary: Tired of leaving Sam behind on holidays, Jess takes Sam home with her for Memorial Day weekend.
Alternate Link: http://community.livejournal.com/spn_hetexchange/10267.html
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Sam Winchester is a mystery. This is what attracts Jess to him, or rather, it’s the first thing that suggests their relationship might extend past a really enjoyable one night stand. Jess has always loved to play with numbers and puzzles. Piecing together missing chunks of a story to uncover a bigger, better whole is something she’s been doing her whole life. She likes to think she’s good at it, but she gives up on figuring Sam out after a year of determined study.
They’re introduced by a friend and Sam is everything Brady promised he would be-tall and handsome with a sharp sense of humor and a smile that could charm just about anyone. Sam is not the kind of guy who really has to work very hard to get a girl’s attention and Jess makes it clear that she’s up for a good time that first night they meet. Sam surprises her by not going for it. Jess is used to having to beat guys away and it’s not hurt pride so much as confusion and a little bit of relief that she feels when Sam says goodnight without trying anything.
They meet up a few more times and Sam is a perfect gentleman. Jess can tell he’s interested and it makes no sense to her that what seems like a perfectly well-adjusted, charismatic guy gets shy and starts to second guess himself every time they’re alone. It’s cute in an exhausting way, and Jess finally gets fed up after a couple of weeks and asks, point blank, if Sam is going to take her out to dinner any time soon or not. Sam smiles that smile that makes Jess’s knees tremble and from that point on, they’re an item.
Jess has had a few steady boyfriends before. She’s even been in love, or whatever passes for being in love in high school. She’s never been a girl who falls fast or falls hard, but what happens with Sam is out of her control.
Sam doesn’t ever say anything overtly sentimental or make sweeping romantic gestures, but something in the way he touches her, the way he looks at her, screams love after only a few months. He never lets her in, so she doesn’t know why, but when he’s holding her at night, Jess knows how much he cherishes her. He acts like she’s something precious that he’s not allowed to have. Jess has no earthly conception of what she did to become so important, but it’s hard to know someone cares that much about you and not love them right back.
_______________________________________________________________
Sam doesn’t talk about his past, doesn’t mention his family, not ever. Jess has recited the stories of her childhood so many times that Sam knows all of her cousins by name and personality type, but the only thing Sam ever tells her is that his mother died when he was a baby. The day Jess realizes this is not the great tragedy of Sam’s life is the day Jess finally admits that she will never really understand her boyfriend.
She’s always tried to learn more about him, of course. Asking questions about his family gets nowhere, as does trying to find out where he came from, but if Jess is careful and doesn’t make her prodding too obvious, Sam drops clues. One day, he says more than he means to: the day he first mentions Dean.
Jess didn’t even know Sam had a brother, not until they’d been together for more than a year. After the first time Sam says Dean’s name, he becomes a ghost-ever present, always watching out for Sam and keeping Jess on edge. Jess knows instinctively that Sam suddenly being able to talk about Dean is a great sign of trust, so she handles that trust responsibly and never asks for more than Sam will give.
At first, Jess assumes the worst of Sam’s brother-Sam’s absent brother who never bothers with so much as a phone call. Just the mention of Dean’s name…even when Sam is saying something completely harmless, funny stories that make him smile-a few seconds later his eyes cloud over and his lips turn down. By now Jess knows a little more. Dean didn’t hurt Sam, Sam hurt them both. She never finds out how or why. She just learns to read the guilty edge in Sam’s tone.
Despite whatever happened between them, it’s obvious to Jess that Sam misses his brother. She pretends not to hear the messages Sam leaves from other rooms some nights, acts like she doesn’t notice Sam getting excited over every text just to deflate when it’s not from Dean. Jess gets the paradoxical impression that Sam has been loved both too much and not nearly enough in his life.
Sam never talks about missing his Dad or friends he left behind, but Dean’s name is almost sacred on the rare occasion Sam says it. Jess will always be second in Sam’s heart and she knows that, but she can’t be as upset over it as she thinks she should be. When Sam pulls her in and falls asleep with his lips pressed to her neck, Jess can’t bring herself to question it. Second-best or not, he loves her more than anyone else ever will.
_______________________________________________________________
It’s the holidays that break Jess’s heart. Special occasions, no matter how minor or irrelevant, turn the happy, healthy man she loves into someone she doesn’t recognize. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, Valentine’s, Sam’s birthday, hell, even Jess’s birthday, as if that makes any sense. She watches Sam for most of sophomore year and all of junior year and Jess doesn’t have to see Sam on the holidays when she goes home to know it’s even worse.
Sam always waits for something to happen. He sits by the window, book open and ignored on his lap, and checks his cell repeatedly. Jess will invite him along to parties and Sam will shake his head and look down at his phone like there’s something important he knows is coming any moment. He doesn’t ever tell Jess he’s waiting for Dean, and Jess never points out that Dean isn’t coming.
By the end of junior year, it’s gotten to be too much. Jess knows she’s going to miss Sam all summer and the idea of leaving him now, earlier than she has to, is like tearing off a limb. All she can think about is the break for Thanksgiving coming in a few months and the fact that Sam will have nowhere to be, nothing to do.
Every year, her parents insist she goes home for Memorial Day weekend-this year is no exception, and Jess can’t shake the bad idea lurking in the back of her mind. A trial trip: her and Sam at her parents’. If it goes well, maybe she can convince him to come for Thanksgiving, then Christmas. Maybe she can finally find a way to get Sam to let her in and stop the worry for him that leaves Jess too stressed to enjoy her vacations. She thinks that, if she can make Sam smile just once on a holiday, then maybe she’ll deserve the affection he gives her. She loves him and she wants him to love her like that forever, so she tries, assuming the answer will be no.
“You…really? I mean, is that a good idea?”
“Well, you have to meet them some day. They’ve invited you, Sam. I think it’ll be fun.” Jess sits up and crawls to the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around Sam’s middle and looking up at him. “You don’t have other plans, do you?”
Sam turns his face away, just hardly frowning, and Jess thinks she said the wrong thing. He’s quiet for a long time.
“Yeah, okay,” Sam says, tentative and, if Jess is being honest, a little bit defeated. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Jess smiles, buries her face in his chest, and silently thanks him for giving her the chance to make things right for him.
_______________________________________________________________
The Friday before Memorial Day, Jess skips her morning class and arrives at Sam’s apartment three hours early out of sheer excitement. He’s running around shoving things in a duffel as if he’s going to be tested on the contents and when he sees Jess, he snaps out of it and looks confused for a few seconds before smiling.
“You almost ready?” she asks, hoping to ease the tension. “The shuttle won’t be here to take us to the airport for a few hours, but I was hoping we could grab some brunch.”
“Yeah, I, uhh. I don’t think I can eat,” Sam says, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “I’m kind of nervous.”
“My parents are going to love you, Sam,” Jess promises and she’s pretty sure it’s the truth. Sam makes a face like it hadn’t even occurred to him to be worried about that yet.
“No, it’s the plane. I’m not really scared, I’m just not used to it. It’s kind of new to me.”
“But you’ve been everywhere,” Jess protests. Sam’s frequent travels are the only thing Jess does know about his life before Stanford.
“Drove. Everywhere. I haven’t actually ever been on a plane.”
Jess spends the rest of the morning teasing him, but when they get to the airport, Sam discovers that flying doesn’t really bother him at all and they land on time after a long but relatively smooth flight.
_______________________________________________________________
Jess already has a car reserved when they land, and Sam’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas when she asks if he wants to drive.
“I never get to drive,” Sam says, taking the keys with a big smile. While it’s true enough that they don’t drive on campus, Jess has a feeling this has more to do with Dean and what stories lead Jess to believe is a bad case of separation anxiety with his car.
They don’t talk much as they drive to Jess’s parents house-she points out sights and tells Sam stories and he fidgets nervously as if he’s driving to his own funeral.
“Why didn’t you go to Harvard?” Sam asks when they’re finally leaving Boston city limits and Jess sits up with a start, realizing she’s drifted off.
“I wanted something new, I guess,” she says with a yawn, watching the familiar stretch of road leading to the little town Jess calls home. “Everyone expected me to go to Harvard.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”
Jess looks at the smile Sam’s trying to hide and she thinks, I am, too.
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When they pull up in front of the house, Sam’s eyes go wide and for the first time since she met him, he looks genuinely terrified.
“You okay, Sam?”
“It’s just kind of…bigger than I was expecting.”
Jess doesn’t know what to say to that and it only gets worse when they get to the door. Jess’s mother opens it and smiles wide before welcoming Sam with a hug. He freezes up and reverts so far back into himself that Jess thinks this was probably the worst idea she’s ever had.
“Aren’t you just every bit as gorgeous as Jessica said you were?” Her mother asks with a smile. Sam blushes and looks away.
“Mom, do you mind?”
“Jessica doesn’t talk about anything else. We thought she had to be exaggerating, but it looks like I gave her my good taste.”
Jess’s mother winks at him and welcomes them both inside, completely oblivious to Sam’s discomfort. Jess tries to smile reassuringly and does everything she can to ignore the lost-little-boy look Sam aims back at her.
“Princess!”
“Hi, Daddy!” Jess is enveloped in a bear hug before she even sees her father. She pulls out of his arms and takes Sam’s hand, pulling him forward.
“Mom, Dad, this is Sam Winchester. Sam, these are my parents.”
“Hello, Mrs. Moore, Mr. Moore, it’s great to finally-”
“Now, none of that Mr. and Mrs. Moore nonsense. Just call me Dick and this little lady here is Charlotte.”
“Sorry, sir,” Sam says.
“Did you two have a good flight? I’m afraid we had to go ahead and have dinner without you, but there are leftovers sitting out on the counter. I trust you know what to do, sweetheart.”
“You guys didn’t wait up just for us?” Jess asks, knowing full well they did.
“Of course we did, baby. Couldn’t have slept without saying hello to my little girl. Sam, it was wonderful to meet you. I’m sorry I can’t stay around to chat, I’m beat. You two get to bed soon, alright?”
Jess nods and watches her mother scramble up the stairs. Her father gives her a goodnight kiss and pats Sam on the shoulder before following his wife. Sam looks dazed, like he has no idea what just happened, and Jess thinks it’s a good start to the trip.
_______________________________________________________________
Saturday is all theirs. Sam sleeps in the guest room down the hall from the kitchen and Jess passes it on her way to grabbing some toast and starting coffee. She finds that he’s sitting up in bed, essentially hiding from her parents by pretending not to be awake yet.
“I’m beginning to question all of that testosterone I had so much faith in,” Jess says, leaning against the doorway. Sam’s body startles and he turns to look at her and smiles.
“I’m not hiding, if that’s what you think.”
“It’s my mom, isn’t it? You have the hots for her and you’re embarrassed. It’s okay, Sam. I’m totally used to being overlooked for her.”
“Actually it’s the Chihuahua. I live in fear.”
Jess throws her head back and laughs at the mental image of Sam, simultaneously towering over and cowering from, her mother’s prized yappy-but-harmless puppy.
“You hungry?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to get out of this bed. The sheets alone probably cost more than…” Sam trails off. “My point is: it’s a really nice bed.”
“You stay here and think about that and we’ll see if you waver when the scent of coffee hits you.”
Sam smirks. Ten minutes later, he shows up in the kitchen, his face reminding Jess of those cartoons where the animals literally float in the direction of particularly delicious-smelling food.
Jess is talking to her father when Sam comes in. He stops next to her but doesn’t seem to know how to stand, so Jess pulls him in and rests her body against his.
“I was just telling Daddy what our plans for the day are.”
“Oh, good. Maybe he can let me know. She’s being very cryptic.”
“Don’t tell him, I want it to be a surprise.”
Jess’s father smiles and raises a hand like he’s just trying to keep the peace. “I’m not getting involved here. Don’t worry, son, I’m pretty sure your life isn’t in any danger.”
Sam stands there, looking like he’s uncomfortable with how easy Jess’s Dad is being and when Jess sets toast down on the counter next to her father’s and motions for Sam to sit, he asks to look at the pages in the paper that Dick’s finished as if he’s half-convinced he’s going to be yelled at for it. When all he gets is a sound of acknowledgement and a stack of newspaper sliding in his direction, Sam takes a deep breath, sits back, and let’s all of the tension drain out of his body.
_______________________________________________________________
Their hands are tangled as they walk down the street at a lazy stroll. Jess shows Sam the neighbor’s swing that gave her the scar on her arm, points out where her best friend used to live, carefully forgets to mention that boy-next-door who years ago was the object of Jess’s unrequited teenage angst. The weather’s perfect, just a little on the warm side, but the summer hasn’t had the chance to become oppressive yet and there’s a soft breeze as Jess walks Sam down residential streets towards the shops that used to be Jess’s regular hangouts.
They have lunch in the diner Jess worked in during her summers off in high school and her former boss, Mr. Patterson, refuses to let her pay. The little old man comes over and jokes for the better part of their meal and Sam sits and watches them rehash old stories about things Jess burnt with a wide smile.
Next they hit the park; Jess sits on the swing and talks to Sam about nothing as they watch children run in circles. Sam spends twenty minutes pushing one pigtailed little girl and Jess decides that Sam will make a wonderful father. Jess doesn’t think she’ll do too bad, either, and it’s the first time she’s ever let herself wonder if maybe they’ll be raising their kids together.
After the park, Jess walks him back to the row of stores they’d passed earlier, Sam mocking the displays in every window they pass, until they get to the place that Jess secretly engineered the entire day around.
“Moby Dick’s Fudge?” Sam asks, one eyebrow arching to match the quirk of his lips.
“I don’t know what that face is all about.”
Sam smiles. “Just never figured you for a fudge girl, is all.”
“That’s because there is nowhere in California with fudge that will ever satisfy you once you try what I’m about to treat you to.”
Sam allows her to nudge him inside and admits after being forced to try Double Chocolate, Chocolate Walnut, and Cape Cod Cranberry that Moby Dick’s Fudge was probably the best idea Jess will ever have in her entire life.
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The walk back to Jess’s house is more subdued. Not less enjoyable exactly, but it lacks the energy and novelty of their stroll earlier that morning. Occasionally, Sam will ask a question, or Jess will remember a story from something they pass, but mostly they move sluggishly, hands melded together as they both refuse to admit that they might have overdone themselves on the fudge.
They come home to a familiar scene, or at least a once-familiar scene that Jess aches for all year while she’s away only to feel like she never left it when she visits. The door opens to the overwhelming aroma of dinner and the less welcoming sound of her mother singing along to tacky music from the kitchen. Sam blinks a few times and then smiles a tiny, private smile and Jess wonders whether the moment would mean more or less if it wasn’t one she’s repeated her entire life.
They head to the living room and watch the news for about forty-five minutes before her mother calls them in for dinner and they head back to join Jess’s parents at the table. The conversation is stilted at first: Jess’s mother asks about Sam’s family and receives nonanswers that Sam delivers guiltily. Eventually she gives up, asking about their day instead. Things get better from there.
By the time dessert rolls around, Jess’s father is talking to Sam about the places he visited back when he was young enough to travel and Jess doesn’t know why she feels so sorry that Sam knows almost all of them from firsthand experience.
“Alright, alright. You win, son,” Dick finally says good-humoredly, pointing a spoon in Sam’s face. “I haven’t been anywhere in ages. Last time we traveled it was…”
“Salem in 2001, dear,” Jess’s mother offers.
Dad nods and then shrugs. “And I don’t even think that counts as going far enough to be travel.”
Sam laughs but doesn’t say anything.
“You ever been to Salem, Sam? Place gives me the creeps. All that what-not about witches.”
“It’s actually not as haunted as Boston,” Sam says matter-of-factly, blushing as soon as it’s out. “I mean, according to the, uh, legends and stuff. Boston has more actual…stories. If you believe that kind of thing.”
Jess cocks her head and watches Sam squirm, because she hadn’t ever guessed he would know something like that, but her dad makes a speculative sound and seems to be interested.
“You know a lot about that stuff?” he finally asks, his tone blatantly playful and Sam lets out a deep breath-Jess almost wants to call it relieved.
“Just the things that come up when you’re looking into local history,” Sam ducks his head, “I always like to learn the histories of the places I visit.”
Jess has to take a sip of her water to hide her smile, because she knows before her father sits up and smacks the table in excitement that Sam has just won a permanent spot in his heart.
Twenty minutes later, Dick takes Sam into the living room from the table, still rambling on about all the history of his town, convinced it would be a disservice to let a local history buff leave without knowing just how rich the place he’s visiting is. He offers Sam a cigar, which Sam declines, and a glass of whiskey, which Sam accepts, and Jess sits with her head on Sam shoulder for hours half-following their conversation and wondering how the hell Sam manages to not only pretend interest, but to genuinely feel it.
At one point, Sam corrects Dick on a date and her father makes a face like he’s just fallen in love when he realizes Sam is right. Jess has never seen anyone out-geek her father on this subject, and she nearly splits her face in half smiling at the way Sam gets along with the other most important man in her life.
She says goodnight before they do.
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The blissfully peaceful vacation turns into complete chaos on Sunday, just like Jess had known it would. Relatives start arriving shortly after breakfast and there are more and more cars pulling up until well past noon. Jess welcomes the string of aunts; uncles; cousins; finally her sister, Sarah; nieces and nephews; and all of their spouses or significant others as if she was still hostess and not visiting just as much as they are.
Sam greets each new face with the same removed warmth that Jess has seen so many times at school and does a remarkable job hiding his smirks when he meets someone he’s already heard too much about and formed a solid opinion on.
Once everyone’s arrived, the family falls into the same Memorial Day traditions that have been boring Jess for as long as she can remember. She and her sister sit aside from the older women of the family, catching up and watching the men all play some version of football that lacks rules or discipline and looks more like monkey in the middle.
“I don’t think he’s making any friends,” Sarah says, laughing as she watches her husband, George, scowl at Sam’s back. Sam has just folded what George probably thought was an unbeatable play for the fourth time in a row.
“Not his fault he’s good at football.” Jess smiles unapologetically.
Sarah turns to face her. “It wasn’t his fault he was good at chess, either. Or tennis. Anything he isn’t good at?”
“Losing,” Jess replies without missing a beat.
After the game, the men and women mix again, some heading inside to watch television, some staying outside while their children chase each other, or throwing a Frisbee around. Remembering how Sam and her father had gotten along the day before, Jess is unsurprised to spot Sam talking to him by the grill, a beer in hand and a smile on his face.
Jess loses track of him for a while, swept away in an ocean of older cousins who all pick her up and throw her around, as troublesome, obnoxious, and affectionate as they always are. When she finally escapes, only slightly worse for the wear, Sam is no longer with her father. He tells her Sam headed inside a while ago and Jess bites her lip before heading into the house after him.
The last place in the world that Jess expects to find him is in the kitchen playing sous chef to her mother, but that’s where he is. Sam isn’t a dunce about cooking-he’s never made anything inspired, but he knows his way around a pretty decent selection of dishes. When she walks in, however, Sam is chopping onions so fast Jess worries he’ll lose a finger. Jess pours herself a glass of wine and sits at the counter, electing to observe whatever she’d walked in on.
Sam runs back and forth, taking his mother’s instructions to heart as if it’s some kind of privilege to help make dinner for a small army of New England WASPs. They don’t talk much, or at least Sam doesn’t. Charlotte rambles on about a million little things, making light conversation and fluttering from one end of the kitchen to the other, like she always does when she’s frazzled.
Sam doesn’t seem to be listening to what she says, though he doesn’t look away from her once. When he has to get close to hand over the ingredients she asks for, he moves slowly, like he’s approaching a mystical creature he doesn’t want to startle for fear he’ll never see it again. It hits Jess’s heart like a punch to see him, so big and so gentle, eyes slightly glossy, looking like a kid that doesn’t understand what’s happening. Jess can’t stand watching it for too long and leaves soon after arriving, faking the sudden urge to help younger cousins find places to hide.
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“Chris, seriously?” Jess says, projecting her voice from the bathroom.
“Yeah, Chris. What’s so weird about it?”
“Christopher is the family asshole, Sam.”
“Well, I think he’s funny.”
“But really, that guy was your favorite? The first thing he did when he met you was try to pull a prank on you.”
“I felt very included,” Sam says, his smirk evident in his tone.
“He told us a story about his drunken college hookup at dinner with my blue-haired aunts.”
Big arms wrap around her middle from behind and Jess jumps, looking up at the mirror to find that Sam is suddenly in the room with her. Sometimes he can be unsettlingly quiet and the way it intersects with the speed and strength she saw while he was playing football makes her feel flushed and threatened all at once. Jess represses a shudder and tries not to think about what in Sam’s mysterious life could have required him to learn to move in those ways.
“He reminded me of someone.”
Jess swallows and turns her gaze down, as if putting toothpaste on her brush is the most interesting thing she will ever do. She doesn’t need Sam to tell her who Chris reminded him of enough to make his personality endearing to someone like Sam, someone who has nothing in common with him.
“What about Zach?”
“Oh God, Jess. I wanted to laugh the entire time I was talking to him. He was exactly like you described.”
Sam is still laughing when he bows his head and presses a soft kiss into her neck.
“Right? Right?” Jess laughs along with him, warmth spreading through her at the thought of how fast Sam’s found his place in her family.
She passes Sam his toothbrush and he only releases her and accepts it grudgingly. “This really isn’t weird to anyone but me?”
Sam throws a glance back into Jess’s bedroom, at the twin bed they’ll be sharing soon.
“Sam, we have a full house. Besides, I’m under the impression that this is the new thing. All of the baby boomers are trying to prove they haven’t turned into their parents by letting their kids share rooms with their significant others. It has less to do with trust and more to do with fads.”
“I guess,” says Sam, though there isn’t a shred of conviction behind it. He puts paste on his own toothbrush and begins to brush as Jess rinses.
Jess is already in bed when Sam slides in on the opposite side, pulling the covers over her and smoothing a hand softly down the curve of her body. He presses in close and kisses her, his lips moving to her neck and his hands ghosting over her body, making her breath hitch. Want sparks in her stomach and she gasps, annoyed because Sam knows exactly what he’s doing to her.
“Sam,” she whines, drawing his name out childishly.
“Jess,” he replies, imitating her perfectly.
“Mmm, you should…” She has every intention of telling him to stop until his fingertips just hardly move up her thighs and brush in between her legs. “Do it.”
Sam lets out an amused huff and sucks lightly on the skin below her neck, low enough that the mark won’t show tomorrow. She moans, aching for his mouth on her breast, but he pulls his lips back and grins. “Can’t do anything, Jessica. I’m appalled you’d suggest it. Your parents are sleeping right down the hall.”
“I don’t care,” she says, though she knows he’s right.
“Of course you do. I’m not going to get you in trouble.”
“Why are you torturing me if we’re not gonna get anything out of it?”
“Because I can.” Sam whispers it hot and low, right into her ear, though his teasing touches at least stop. “And when we get back, the things I’m gonna do to you, God. You looked so good today. I wanna see that dress again, sometime I can take advantage of it.”
Sam kisses her on the lips, tongue eager for attention that Jess can’t help giving him. When he pulls away, he rests his forehead on hers and breaths in deeply.
His fingers are still moving over the skin on her arm, but all of the intent has left and even their attempt at fitting into the cramped bed isn’t enough touching for Jess. She moves closer, lying half on top of Sam and he hesitates for less than a second before his arms wrap around her, one tangling in her hair, the other drawing her body towards him like a vice. Jess has no room to move and no desire to either. She curls her fingers around his bicep, just so he knows how much she wants him to hold her like that.
Jess closes her eyes and listens to his breathing, knowing that he smells her shampoo more than anything else with every inhale. She loves how soft he feels, how right it is to be curled on her childhood bed, doing nothing but clinging to each other.
“Thank you,” Sam says it after a long silence and Jess is pretty sure he thinks she’s sleeping.
She hardly musters the energy it takes to give his arm a reassuring squeeze, but Sam isn’t done.
“I love you. Just. I think you know that. But I want you to hear it.”
Jess looks up at him then, smiles. She thinks it should mean more, hearing him say those words out loud, but he’s said it so many times without words that it isn’t all that special this time. Somehow that makes it even better. Jess doesn’t bother saying anything, just presses a kiss to Sam’s chest, makes a warm sound, and falls asleep.
_______________________________________________________________
Nobody stays for long the next day, everyone having long road trips or other plans for Memorial Day itself after the weekend cookout the Moores have every year. Only a handful of the guests who stayed the night are still around for breakfast and the last of the stragglers are packed into their cars an hour after.
Sam and Jess and even Jess’s parents all have a lazy day after that, recovering from the hectic atmosphere of the day before. They watch Memorial Day marathons of movies that don’t actually have anything to do with the holiday and eat their way through the mountain of leftovers from the day before, each person warming things up when they feel like it and nobody ever attempting to make a formal meal out of it.
It’s late evening when Jess finally gets the motivation to take a shower and she comes downstairs to find her mother cleaning up the mess left over from the day before.
“Mom, wait until tomorrow. Today is supposed to be about relaxing.”
“Oh, God, honey, I’ll be honest with you, I just needed an excuse to get out of that living room. Your father sunk his claws into poor Sam as soon as you left and hasn’t shut up since. I don’t know how the boy puts up with it.”
Jess chuckles. “I guess I should go save him, huh?”
“Before he takes off running, Jessica. Save your relationship while you still can.”
When Jess gets to the archway into the living room, however, there’s near silence inside. Jess gets the impression that the conversation is about to take a serious turn and, against her better judgment, she decides to hang back.
“Mr. Moore. Uh, Dick, I…there’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What’s that, son?” Her father asks, sensing Sam’s discomfort and doing his best to lessen it.
“Well. I. Jess and I have been pretty serious for over a year now, and-I don’t intend to do anything right away, sir, not until we graduate, but I don’t know if I’ll get another chance like this to-well, anyway. I’d like to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
Jess leans slightly into the room, still hidden by the archway, until she can see her father’s expression. His eyebrows quirk and his mouth forms an amused expression, and she can almost hear him thinking: “Why didn’t anyone tell me I had veto power on my daughter’s spouses before I lost my eldest to that idiot?”
Jess’s stomach clenches. The whole scene is a little absurd, Sam’s face is set and serious, like he doesn’t realize that what he’s doing is more-or-less outdated and Dick seems to be trying his hardest not to laugh outright. She gets a momentary flair of worry when her father’s mouth turns down, he knows almost nothing about Sam’s history, just like Jess, but she knows he can tell his roots aren’t exactly glamorous. Her father’s always said he doesn’t care who she marries, as long as he makes her happy, but it’s possible that his tolerance for Sam’s background doesn’t extend as far as marriage when put in practice. Jess lifts her chin in determination, regardless of the fact that her father can’t see her. She knows that Sam will ask no matter what her father says, and she’s surprised to find there’s no question that she’ll say yes-Daddy’s girl or not.
“Jess is my little girl, you know. Her sister, I mean, I love both of my daughters. But Jess is my girl.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve noticed that, and I know how much your opinion means to her.”
“I want the best for her, can’t stand to see her married off to a loser. She’s too good for that.”
Sam’s jaw and fists clench and he sits up straighter. Stubbornness has never been a quality Sam lacks, but he plays it smart and says nothing.
“You’re not from a family like ours, are you? You’ve got no big house to go home to, no trust fund to fall back on.”
Sam shifts uncomfortably and Jess has to wonder when her father got so cruel.
“Don’t answer the question; I’ve had you figured since Jess first started talking about you. I’ve known guys like you my whole life. You remind me of my army buddies, actually, though I guess that makes no sense. You never served, right?”
“No, sir.”
“Well, you’d make a damn fine soldier.”
Jess realizes that her father has just put her finger on something she’s never understood about Sam, something she never would have thought of on her own.
“Fine soldier and good husband aren’t exactly the same thing, are they?” Sam shoots back, a little heated.
“No, no they are not.”
“So what you’re saying is-”
“What I’m saying is this: Jessica could have stayed here and married any of a number of boys from wealthy families and she would have a nice, padded life handed to her. But she didn’t. She worked her ass off her whole life; she got into that school on her own. She’s got something to prove and she’s proving it. And you? You never had anything handed to you, did you?”
“No, sir,” Sam says, deflated.
“I’m obviously not making myself clear here. You fought for what you have, and you fought hard. I respect that, son. You’re going to make something of yourself, much more than those spoiled kids Jess grew up with. You’re the kind of man who can look after a girl.”
“Jess doesn’t exactly need me to look after her, sir.”
“You’re damn right she doesn’t. And that’s why you’re the class of husband she deserves. Hell, if she’ll have you, I’ll be more than happy to foot the bill for that wedding.”
“What? Really?”
“I trust my girl’s judgment, Sam. And you’re a smart kid. I think you know how lucky anyone would be to have her.”
“Absolutely I do, sir.”
“That’s all I ask. Take good care of her. I’ve been dreading the day I have to give her away since she was five years old. It’ll be a load off my shoulders to see her settled with someone like you.”
Sam’s face crumples and Jess almost thinks he’s about to cry. She feels a hand squeeze her shoulder and turns to find her mother looking in on the scene, cheeks wet with tears.
“That boy will break my heart,” she says.
Jess has never known her mother to think for herself, has never seen her meditate deeply on anything but raising her children and keeping her husband happy. The look in her eyes now is almost profound, makes Jess wonder if she’s been underestimating her mother her whole life, or if Sam just pulls at every maternal string she has.
Jess gets an almost uncontrollable urge to run to Sam’s side, wrap her arms around him, and push the hair out of his face. Instead, she stays removed from the moment, taking her mother into her arms, and resting her chin on the crown of her head. “I’m going to fix that,” she promises, though she’s not really talking to her mother.
“You’re getting married,” she says after a long silence, squeezing Jess’s arm as she pulls out of the embrace. It’s not a question, and Jess doesn’t pretend for a moment that she has anything left to think about. Charlotte wipes at her eyes and does her best to smile, returning to the kitchen, presumably to vent her feelings cleaning for another hour. Jess focuses her attention back on her father and Sam. They still haven’t spoken, though neither is doing a very good job of pretending to pay attention to the television.
When Sam finally replies, his voice is stretched thin. “Thank you. I really appreciate this. I won’t let you down, sir.”
“How about you cut the sir crap, then?”
“I could do that, sir,” Sam’s mouth twitches, trying to resist a shit-eating grin, and Jess’s father snorts and grabs the remote, bringing the volume back from the whisper it had been set to while they’d been talking.
Jess waits for the tension in the atmosphere to melt away, until Sam is chuckling along with the sitcom her father has the TV tuned to, before announcing her presence in the room and settling on the couch, relaxing into Sam’s side.
“So what dazzling conversation am I interrupting?” Jess asks, hoping to come off convincingly nonchalant.
Jess watches Sam and her father exchange loaded looks, as if they’re keeping some big secret. “Sam was just telling me about his other girlfriend back in California. Sounds like you have some serious competition, pumpkin.”
Jess sticks her tongue out at her father, Sam just laughs. She falls asleep on the couch, lying against her boyfriend, and when her alarm goes off the next morning, she’s in the same place, though she’s mysteriously conjured a blanket and pillow overnight.
_______________________________________________________________
The goodbye breakfast is light. Sam takes too long packing and sends sorry looks at everything he’s leaving behind, even the dog (“loud, ill-tempered, glorified rat”) he’s spent the last three days complaining about.
At the door, Jess’s father gives Sam an unqualified invitation to come back for the next holidays, which Sam acknowledges with a nod, even though Jess knows he won’t take it. Not yet. Maybe next year, she thinks.
“Thank you so much for everything, Mrs. Moore,” he says once he’s already gotten the manly goodbye from her father.
“Oh, please, honey, just call me Mom,” Jess’s mother says. Jess winces, hoping Sam doesn’t take it wrong.
Sam says nothing; he moves forward and grabs her mother into a suffocating hug. Charlotte’s face is dazed when he lets go, but she doesn’t give him the chance to apologize. She just smiles and moves on to Jess.
_______________________________________________________________
She spends most of the flight back with her head on Sam’s shoulder as he stares out of the airplane window. They miss all of their classes, but they’d expected that, and Jess can’t bring herself to feel sorry regardless of the fact that finals are coming up. There’s no question on whether to split up and go back to their proper apartments. They both head to Sam’s, order Chinese, and curl up in bed, talking about everything that had happened over the weekend-not needing to talk about what had happened before, what would happen soon after.
“You miss being home?” Sam asks when they’re drifting off. Jess gives it a little thought before she realizes that she doesn’t really feel all that different in this moment than she had in Massachusetts.
“I am home, stupid,” she says, kissing his chest.
“Welcome home then,” says Sam, his voice teasing and serious in one breath.
Jess kisses Sam one last time and drifts off to sleep, hoping that this is all Sam needs to be home, too.