Fic: Love, War and Remembrance (2/5)
Fic: Love, War and Remembrance (2/5)
Series: Special Projects
Summary: Sam visits Sarah. Dean and Chloe figure out what to do with all those tacky gifts that they didn't ask for in the first place.
Author: pen37
Beta: Strangevisitor7
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: NC-17
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
This fic is dedicated to Clarksmuse. Happy Birthday Katie!
Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5
A/N: *looks at rating.* Yeaaaaah. This chapter earns us that rating. Click at your own risk.
“Hey Lucy, I'm home!” Dean announced as he unlocked the apartment door, and carried their bags inside.
“That joke would be funnier if I didn't have a cousin Lucy,” Chloe said as she followed him in. “Who might be in trouble from her latest scam, and might actually be hiding out here at our place.”
“Cousin Lucy and Uncle Sam,” Dean chuckled. “I bet your dad has fun at their expense.”
“See? You fit right in with my family,” Chloe said.
Dean was still laughing when he turned back to the room - and realized that there were stacks of boxes everywhere. “What in the?” He scratched his head. “I thought we unpacked this place already.”
“We did,” Chloe said shortly. She crossed the floor to her dining table, and peered at a large box. “It's from Lana?”
“Didn't you know her in high school?” Dean asked.
Chloe frowned at the box, and then opened it. Her face twisted into a confused expression as she pulled out a large, ugly ceramic chicken.
“What is that for?” Dean asked.
Chloe looked at it as if trying to decide for herself. “Decoration?”
“I mean why is she sending it to us?”
Chloe looked back into the box, and pulled out a card. “It's a wedding gift.” She shook her head. “Lois must be letting folks in on the big secret.”
“We get gifts for this?” Dean looked around at the other boxes like a kid in a candy store.
“You want a ceramic chicken?” Chloe looked at him in exasperation.
“Well, No.” Dean said with a shake of his head. “But maybe someone sent us something good.”
“Like what?”
“Guns and ammo? I bet Jo would send us that.”
“You do realize that Jo is a girl.”
“Not a particularly girly girl,” Dean said.
“Yeah? Well she'd still get us something practical.”
“My point exactly.”
Chloe huffed in exasperation. “Well, the only way to find out is to start unpacking this stuff.”
* * *
Sam and Sarah were sprawled across her couch in a tangle of limbs and Sarah had just discovered that spot behind his ear.
Sam moaned and leaned into her touch. He hadn't been kissed there in a long time. Just as he was sliding a hand up under her shirt, his phone rang.
Sarah leaned back to sit on his knees as he growled in frustration and thumped his head on the back of the couch. “If that's Dean, I'm going to kill him.”
She picked up the phone, and glanced at the caller id. “Better start cleaning your gun,” she muttered.
“I can't believe we're related,” he growled.
“You could ignore it,” Sarah said gently.
“No,” Sam sighed as he lifted his head off the couch. “It might be important.” With a grimace, he thumbed the talk button and put the phone to his ear.
“What?”
“Hey Sammy! Did you know that if you get married people send you stuff?”
“Uh . . . yeah. Where do you think all those silver picture frames that we melt into bullets come from?.”
“If I'd known this I would have got married a long time ago.” There was the sound of breaking glass in the background. Then things got real quiet on the line. “I probably shouldn't have said that out loud.”
“Are you okay?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, Chloe just threw her friend Lana's ugly ceramic chicken at me. No big loss. Hey! You think they do registries at gun shows?”
“Not really,” Sam said.
“Oh,” Dean seemed to deflate over that. Then, like a chipmunk on a sugar high, he was giddy again. “Well, it's not like we need a new blender. Maybe we can return some of this stuff and spend the money on ammo.”
“Maybe that's a decision that you should talk to Chloe about,” Sam shook his head. He was very glad that he wasn't home with his family right now.
“Yeah maybe,” Dean said absently. “I think I need to apologize to her first.”
“Gee, you think?”
“Not to worry Sammy. There's no foolin' around like make-up fooling around.”
Sam sighed in exasperation. “Goodbye, Dean.”
He threw down the phone. “Chloe's a saint.”
Sarah shook her head. “Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?”
Sam grinned up at her. “I think we could figure it out.”
Her chuckle died away as his hand slid up under her shirt and found her breast. “Yeah, she whispered. I think that's exactly where we were.”
As Sam rolled her nipple between his fingers, she leaned into his touch. “M . . . maybe you should stop.” she whispered throatily.
Sam raised his eyebrows as he looked into her face. Judging by the expression he saw there, she definitely didn't mean it.
“Why?” he pulled her closer so that he could worry at her pulse point with his teeth.
“'cause.” She bit back a moan. “You're a perspective business partner. We wouldn't want any kind of impropriety to stand in the way.”
Sam chuckled at that as his hand snaked around to the back of her bra. “If we didn't do this, I think Dean might be disappointed in me,” he said. “And at least half this money is his and Chloe's anyway.”
“Well then,” Sarah hissed as his lips traveled down to the hollow of her neck, just above the v of her blouse. “Wouldn't want to disappoint him.”
“It would be a real shame,” Sam said as he worked the top button of her blouse loose.
“Sam?” Sarah asked.
“Hm?” Sam looked up from kissing his way down into the valley between her breasts.
“Can we quit talking about your family for a while? It's a little weird at the moment.”
“Absolutely,” he nodded.
Then there wasn't space for words between busy lips and hands. Sam stripped her from her blouse, picked her up and turned to lay her on the couch.
Then stopped.
He stared at the furniture in askance. There was no way he could stretch out on that tiny piece of antique furniture, much less find the room to maneuver. Sarah looked from it, to him and back, before burying her face in his shoulder and laughing.
“It's not funny,” he muttered.
“Oh it is,” she said. Then she rested her forehead on his collarbone and looked up at him. “Bedroom. Now. And tomorrow that couch goes. I'm going to get a nice, big, deep, goose down one. And if I'm sitting back against the cushions, my feet better not be able to touch the floor.”
“You don't have to do that for me,” Sam said as he stood with her in his arms and followed her directions down the hallway.
“Oh I think I do,” she said. “Especially if I want to keep you around.”
“There is that,” Sam said. He kicked the bedroom open and looked around. Sara had a large, antique brass bed. It looked interesting in that please tie me down kind of way.
Sam shook his head and wondered when he'd become quite so kinky.
He carried Sarah to the bed, and then stripped out of his shirt and kicked off his boots.
“There.” He smiled as he looked pointedly at the way Sarah wore only a skirt. “I was feeling overdressed.”
“Can't have that.” She leaned back against the pillows, giving him an appealing view of her breasts. Sam smiled at her as he knelt between her legs. Starting at her knee, he kissed and licked a trail up her leg, inching her skirt up as he went, until he reached her heated center. In response, she arched her back and hooked her legs over his shoulders.
Sarah cried out as she bucked against him. He felt himself strain against his jeans in response. She was wonderfully tight wet and responsive. He laved her clit with his tongue, then suckled it as he inserted a finger into her core.
His eyes flicked up to take in her flushed appearance and the way her hands fisted in the blankets. Her back arched in response to his ministrations. He continued his assault until she was crying out her climax in ecstasy.
Just as she was starting to come down, he freed his own erection and drove deeply into her. Sara wrapped her legs around him and let him drive her to new heights of pleasure. She rocked under the force of a second orgasm, biting his neck and scratching furrows into his back.
The pain mingled with the incredible feel of her inner muscles fluttering around him sent Sam over the edge. With a groan of pleasure, he spilled himself deeply inside of her. Then he collapsed next to her, burying his head in the crook of her shoulder.
“Hey,” Sarah prodded his shoulder. “Don't fall asleep yet.”
“Promise,” he muttered tiredly.
She sighed. “I guess I'll have to be the one to check the salt lines around the room.”
With a final sigh, he rolled off the bed and refastened his pants. “Slave driver.”
“Does that mean I get to tie you to my bed like a buff, muscled slave boy?” she batted her eyes innocently at him.
Sam groaned in response. “I've created a monster,” he muttered.