Past Changes (Dean/Chloe, PG) and Body Language (Sam/Sarah, PG) for clarksmuse
Title: Past Changes
Author: sweeteen_200
Recipient: clarksmuse
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dean/Chloe (Smallville)
Summary: They snark, hunt and stop. Then do it again.
“Does my coffee offend you?”
“Uh, no. It doesn’t offend me. I just don’t understand it.””
“Huh.” She placed a hand on her hip and smirked up at him. “Sounds like a personal problem to me.” With that she turned and walked away, leaving Dean standing alone.
Chloe rolled her eyes, hearing familiar footsteps behind her. “Don’t even,” she warned, without turning around.
Dean walked up to stand beside her. “What?” he asked in mock innocence.
“If you say anything about my coffee you’ll be wearing it,” she threatened.
“That’d be a waste.”
She nodded, leaning against the counter as she waited for her order. “You’re right. I’ll dump yours on your head instead.” She paused, looking behind them then back at Dean. “By the way, why are you here?”
Dean shrugged failing at masking his amusement. “I thought I’d help.”
“Carry three cups of coffee?” She frowned. “In a drink tray?””
“They could be heavy,” Dean tried, gesturing to the largest cup size shown on the back wall.
Chloe poked him in the chest, annoyed. “You don’t trust me to get you a cup of black coffee, do you.” She threw up her hands in mock irritation. ““I’m college educated, but you don’t think I can pull off coffee orders?”
“I trust you,” Dean argued. “I just…”
“Don’t trust me,” she teased. She smiled and leaned her shoulder into his arm playfully. “It’s okay, I know how important your coffee is to you.”
Dean nodded, feigning serious. “Extremely.”
---
“Do you drink weak alcohol too?” he asked, sliding onto the barstool next to her.
“My coffee isn’t weak,” Chloe argued, wondering if this was his definition of flirting.
“Double vanilla?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I think you can’t handle straight coffee.”
“I can handle my coffee fine. It just can’t handle me.”
Dean set a bottle of beer in front of Chloe and sat across from her.
“Thanks,” she said without looking up.
“Anything?” he asked, looking around the crowded bar.
She gestured towards the far corner. “Biker jacket has been eyeballing every female in the room.” Dean frowned, looking at her pointedly. “Relax, he doesn’t seem interested in me,” she assured, reading his thoughts without much effort.
“Good,” Dean mumbled.
“Anyway.” Chloe bit back a smile. “I think he’s mentally surveying the women.”
“Why?”
“To find a mate.”
“The dude never heard of online dating?”
Chloe shook her head in amusement. “Dean,” she started.
He nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’ll get Sam.”
---
“I think you may be the one stalking me,” Dean joked, walking across the parking lot towards her. His gun was tucked safely in his waistband, just in case.
She frowned. “Back to mock my drinking?”
“No.” He smiled suggestively, if she was following him he shouldn’t let on that he knew. “But I am wondering what you wear to bed.”
“You’re relentless.”
“You bet.”
She paused, studying him. There was an intelligence in her eyes when she gave him a once over. She knew what she was doing and what she was looking for. When she looked away, he wondered if she’d found it. “Well, it’s been fun, but I’ve got to get to bed.”
“So you aren’t going to tell me what you wear to bed?”
“Nope.”
“Spoilsport,” he mumbled, noting the motel room she walked into. Never hurt to be cautious.
Chloe stood behind Dean as he popped the trunk and opened the hidden compartment. The sheer quantity and variety of supplies always amazed her. It was very reminiscent of her own trunk, only more supernatural-based.
“Here,” Dean said, handing her a machete. He seemed reluctant, but he didn’t argue.
Chloe took the weapon carefully and attached the leather case to her belt. “Thanks.”
“If anything,” Dean started, but was cut off when Chloe held up a hand.
“I’ll be careful. I promise.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t lose focus,” she ordered.
Dean turned his attention back to the trunk. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Hey.” Chloe grabbed his shoulder and turned him so he was facing her. ““You promised. And we already went over this.” She crossed her arms. “I know what I’m doing. I was hunting before I met you.”
Dean shook his head. “No. You were repelling spirits and demons with salt and holy water before you met me. You weren’t hunting.”
“Dean, don’t start.” Chloe didn’t want to fight. They needed to keep their head in the hunt.
Dean looked down at her, an expression on his face she couldn’t quite read. His eyes softened and he opened his mouth to say something then stopped himself and returned to the trunk. “Alright. I won’t lose focus.”
“And I’ll be careful,” Chloe compromised.
---
“A what?” Chloe asked, her hands raised instinctively.
“A hunter,” he repeated, gesturing with his gun. “Are you a hunter?”
“I’m not a hunter,” she said, remembering what her last source had called his job. “I’m just a reporter, who knows a few tricks.” She gestured to the partially dug up grave beneath her feet.
Dean instinctively took point, stepping in front of Chloe when she moved to enter the door first. Her glare was obvious even with his back to her.
They had been expecting one, maybe two vampires in the nest. The creatures’ numbers drastically reduced thanks to fellow hunters. So, when five vampires met them at the door, Dean knew they were in deep.
“Move!” he barked, the three of them swinging and fighting their way out of the nest they’d only just entered.
Sam’’s long legs carried him the furthest faster, but he hesitated enough to make sure the others were following.
“Go,” Dean ordered, grabbing Chloe’s arm, mentally adding I’ve got her.
Before he could make sure Sam had listened, something jumped him from behind, knocking him and Chloe to the ground. He heard a squish and prayed it was the mud beneath is knees.
He was turned onto his back and found himself blinking up at Mr. Biker Jacket. I’m not your type, dude. The comment dying on his lips when he saw the way the vampire eyed Chloe.
---
They were almost at the coffin when their flashlights flickered. “We’ve got company,” Dean muttered.
Chloe she’’d finally given him her name nodded and scrambled out of the hole, grabbing his gun. ““Keep digging,” she ordered.
Dean just looked at her. “You know how to use that?”
In response, she cocked it and turned towards the graveyard around them.
“Point taken,” Dean said, returning to the grave.
Chloe scrambled to her feet as the vampire yanked at Dean’s collar, nearly pulling him to his feet. Her machete was still gripped white-knuckled in her hands and she could see Dean’s glinting nearby in the sunlight.
Weren’’t vampires bothered by the sun? She wanted to ask, watching the way Biker Jacket glared down at Dean, seemingly unfazed by the light beating down on them.
At least his friends hadn’t followed.
“Drop him,” Sam ordered, walking closer, his own machete held expertly.
The vampire ignored the order, spinning Dean so the hunter’s back was pressed against his chest and wrapped an arm around his neck. “I don’t think so.”
Chloe swallowed her anxiety when Dean gasped for air. She had to stay focused. She couldn’’t save him if she was hysterical.
“Drop the knife, or else,” the vampire continued, visibly tightening his hold. Chloe thought she saw Dean’s lips lose color. Hold on.
In unison, they dropped their weapons. The vampire smirked, but Chloe noticed him grimace briefly. He wasn’t as unfazed by the sun as he was letting on.
“Here.” With supernatural strength, the creature shoved Dean forward into Sam, knocking them both to the ground like human bowling pins.
As soon as Dean was clear, Chloe scooped up her machete and lunged at the vampire. Without Dean as a shield, the effect of the sun was more obvious. The creature was panting and wincing like he’d spent days in a desert.
It took one kick to bring him to his knees. And one swing to take his head.
---
“I could use a drink,” Chloe said, watching the bones burn.
“You mean you actually drink?”
“Maybe.”
Dean nodded then smirked. Chloe was scared to realize might actually enjoy his smirk. ““Well, I could use a shower,” he said.
“It’s a good thing your room has a shower then.”
“Yeah, good thing,” Dean repeated, looking almost hurt she hadn’t taken the bait.
Dean kicked the vampire’s corpse while rubbing his sore neck. “Freakin’ Dracula,” he mumbled, his voice momentarily hoarse from the abuse.
Chloe moved to stand beside him, her machete back in its case. “Are we still going after the others?” she asked, keeping her eyes focused on him and not the body at her feet.
Sam joined them. “We need backup.” He handed Dean his machete and the older hunter frowned at the mud before wiping it on his already muddy coat. The mud he and Chloe had landed in was starting to dry on his clothes and face, making him feel stiff.
“Backup?” Chloe asked.
“Dead man’s blood,” Dean informed.
Chloe nodded in understanding, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and effectively smearing mud across her cheek.
“You look pretty,” he said, his tone more serious than he’d intended.
Chloe just rolled her eyes.
---
“So, I have a question,” Dean said, standing in her doorway. “What kind of alcohol do you drink? It isn’t that fruity stuff is it?”
Instead of rolling her eyes and shutting the door she actually laughed. “Why don’t you buy me a drink and find out?”
Dean nodded, gesturing to his clothes. “I would, but I’ve gotta shower.””
“Yeah.” She pulled at her own dirt stained shirt. “Me too.”
She wiped off as best she could before climbing into the Impala, but she still felt dirty. The motel shower was calling her name and she looked forward to answering. ““They’re going to come after us tonight, aren’t they?”” she guessed as they drove away.
Dean looked about as dirty as her, and just as annoyed. “We’ll cover our scent. And wait out the night.”
“Our best bet is waiting until daylight, tomorrow,” Sam said, finishing his brother’s thought.
Chloe plucked at her mud-caked shirt, curling a lip. “Can I still shower?”
Dean caught her gaze in the rearview mirror and smirked. “Of course,” he said in a way that made her blush.
Sam shook his head, turning his attention to the passing scenery.
---
“Thanks for your help,” Chloe said, cutting off an awkward pause before it could form.
Dean nodded. “Thanks for stopping the ghost.”
“Anytime.”
The pause finally formed and Chloe was torn between excusing herself and inviting him inside. There was something in his eyes. A question maybe, but he didn’t voice it. Kiss me. She mentally urged, hardly fazed by her thoughts. She’d never been one for moving slow.
But when he didn’t move, she did, but not towards his lips. She was a fast mover, but still gun-shy from years of heartbreak.
With a small smile she offered him her hand. “Stay in touch.”
Chloe disappeared into her motel room as soon as the Impala parked and Dean felt a familiar tug as he watched her walk away. He nearly smiled when he spotted her cell phone lying on the back seat.
An excuse.
“I’m going to return this,” he told Sam, holding the phone up for him to see.
Sam nodded, a glint in his eyes that Dean didn’t want to name. Little brothers could be real pains.
Chloe answered after the first knock, looking surprised to see him. “Dean?”
“You dropped this,” Dean said, handing her back the phone.
“Oh, thanks.” Chloe looked behind her and Dean realized he could hear water running and that she’d already started shedding her dirty clothes. She was down to a t-shirt and jeans, her bare feet sticking out from beneath mud-encrusted hems.
Dean rubbed at his neck, wondering at his sudden uncertainty. He’d never felt uncertain around Chloe. Well, not really uncertain. “So, nice job out there. Killing the vampire, I mean.”
“Thanks,” she repeated, a smile tugging at her lips. “Told you I knew what I was doing.”
“Yeah.”
There was a pause and Dean was reminded of a similar situation nearly a year earlier. He looked down at her hand, remembering the feel of it in his, during a handshake. Simple and friendly.
Dean was sick of friendly.
He leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers in a way he knew was anything but friendly. Instead of stepping back, she moved her hands up, grabbing his collar much harder than she’d ever grabbed his hand and deepened the kiss.
Dean could taste the mint on her breath and Chapstick on her lips, and decided he was ready to stay there forever in the doorway, kissing her like he’d wanted to every day for the past year.
But when he ran a hand through her hair and felt it scrap dried mud, he got a better idea.
Pulling back enough to look into her eyes, he smiled slowly. “So I have a question,” he started, repeating his words from their first meeting. “What kind of soap do you use? It isn’t that girly stuff is it?”
Chloe pressed another lingering kiss on his lips, matching his smile.
“Wanna find out?”
Title: Body Language
Author: sweeteen_200
Recipient: clarksmuse
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Sarah
Summary: The body says what words cannot.
--Eyes--
She doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Maybe lust, but not love. But there’’s something about Sam that draws her to him.
Intrigue at first sight, maybe?
He looks completely out of place in his hoody and sincere smile, and she knows she should ask him to leave knowledge of Grandma Moses or not but she can’t. She wants to learn more about the man before her.
Even if he had been wearing a suit and tie she would have known he didn’t belong there just from looking in his eyes. They are friendly enough to match his smile, but there’s something guarded in them. He’s hiding a secret that she’s willing to bet is worse than anything the rich folks around her have ever kept.
She wonders what he can see in her eyes. If he can read her thoughts or if they are as guarded as his own. She wonders if he can see the interest that she’s sure is so obvious it almost makes her blush.
When he asks to see the provenances it’s on the tip of her tongue to say yes. To lead him to the office where her dad keeps all the paperwork and try to learn some of the secrets he’s guarding behind hazel eyes.
But her dad interrupts and she’s left with unanswered questions.
--Smile--
He looks even more out of place at the restaurant and she finds herself missing his hoody and jacket. The suit and tie don’t fit him any more than the wine list sitting in his hands.
But his smile is the same. Sincere smile and guarded eyes.
She orders a beer and is rewarded with a grateful look from her date. She wants to call him on his lies. Tell him she knows he’s a fake, but curiosity keeps the words from her lips. She wants to see how long he can keep the charade up.
And imposture or not, she’s glad he called. It’s sad and she knows she’’ll tease herself for her feelings later, but there’s something about him that stuck with her and she’s sure it’s more than his guarded eyes.
More than his smile.
But he’s not going to give her answers anytime soon, so she returns his smile trying to tell him everything she’s thinking without speaking a word. Words are dangerous and they make people defensive, but smiles are comforting and, if delivered correctly, they can say more than words.
So she smiles and waits for him to answer her questions.
--Gut--
He is a ghost hunter. And although the idea is completely crazy and she tells him that she believes him. Maybe it’s because she’s gullible and willing to believe anything he tells her. Maybe it’s because when he talks about the haunted painting his eyes become a little less guarded.
Or maybe it’s because she just knows he’s not lying. She has no proof. She has nothing to go by other than instinct. But when he looks at her and silently begs her to believe him she does.
Because gut instinct isn’t just an expression.
--Lips--
He leaves with a promise to return, but she doubts his words. Not because she thinks he’’s lying, but because she’s sure his life will take him far and away from anything she could offer him.
But then he’s back and he’s kissing her, and she thinks that maybe he can keep his promise. That maybe he can find a way to come back to her even when his life moves beyond her auction house and their few days together.
Her eyes are closed and she can’t see if his are still guarded, but his lips are holding hers and she realizes she doesn’t have to see his eyes to know what he’s thinking.
Because kisses say more than words and at the moment he’s saying an earful.
He told her he was cursed and that he couldn’t get close. He told her he feared for her safety and that he couldn’t take heartache again. But his kisses say different. His kisses tell her he’s willing to try, because she’s willing to try. They tell her he’s still scared, but that maybe she can break his curse if she wants to.
So she kisses him back and tells him with her mouth, but without words, that she wants to. That she’ll break his curse, if only he comes back to her.
--Hands--
He’s older the next time she sees him. Older and possibly darker. But his eyes and smile are the same and she is reminded of the man who had stood in her auction house pretending to be someone he wasn’t.
She wants to kiss him to make sure all of him is the same, but she holds back. The dark tone to him gives her pause. So instead, she takes his hand. She tangles her fingers in his and tells him she’s happy to see him and that she missed him. But it isn’t until his hand tightens in her own that she knows he feels the same.
Later, when they’ve caught up and her thoughts turn to his departure, she wonders how she can ask him to stay. How she can tell him she’ll miss him when he leaves. She knows she can’t say the words aloud because, even though she’s faced ghosts, she’s not that brave.
So she holds his hand, and touches his arm and face and heart, praying he can interpret.
And when his hand tightens around her own and he holds her face, she knows he understands. And she smiles.
--Body--
On his third trip through town she kisses him and tangles her fingers through his, telling him she missed him and that she hopes he stays longer this time. And he smiles and kisses her back and promises he will.
There’s something different in his eyes and she thinks she might know what, but she doesn’t dare guess out loud. If she’s wrong she’ll be embarrassed and possibly ruin the best thing that ever happened to her.
But if she’s right…
But she doesn’t dare and he doesn’t say anything, even though she wants him too. Because if he says it first than she’ll get the nerve to say it back. She can’t take the first step. Not this time. No matter how much she wants to.
So she kisses and holds him, and tries to tell him without any words, hoping he’ll understand.
And when he takes her to the empty motel room, with the empty bed and tells her everything she wants to know without saying a word, she smiles and answers back.
I love you too.
Author: sweeteen_200
Recipient: clarksmuse
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dean/Chloe (Smallville)
Summary: They snark, hunt and stop. Then do it again.
“Does my coffee offend you?”
“Uh, no. It doesn’t offend me. I just don’t understand it.””
“Huh.” She placed a hand on her hip and smirked up at him. “Sounds like a personal problem to me.” With that she turned and walked away, leaving Dean standing alone.
Chloe rolled her eyes, hearing familiar footsteps behind her. “Don’t even,” she warned, without turning around.
Dean walked up to stand beside her. “What?” he asked in mock innocence.
“If you say anything about my coffee you’ll be wearing it,” she threatened.
“That’d be a waste.”
She nodded, leaning against the counter as she waited for her order. “You’re right. I’ll dump yours on your head instead.” She paused, looking behind them then back at Dean. “By the way, why are you here?”
Dean shrugged failing at masking his amusement. “I thought I’d help.”
“Carry three cups of coffee?” She frowned. “In a drink tray?””
“They could be heavy,” Dean tried, gesturing to the largest cup size shown on the back wall.
Chloe poked him in the chest, annoyed. “You don’t trust me to get you a cup of black coffee, do you.” She threw up her hands in mock irritation. ““I’m college educated, but you don’t think I can pull off coffee orders?”
“I trust you,” Dean argued. “I just…”
“Don’t trust me,” she teased. She smiled and leaned her shoulder into his arm playfully. “It’s okay, I know how important your coffee is to you.”
Dean nodded, feigning serious. “Extremely.”
---
“Do you drink weak alcohol too?” he asked, sliding onto the barstool next to her.
“My coffee isn’t weak,” Chloe argued, wondering if this was his definition of flirting.
“Double vanilla?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I think you can’t handle straight coffee.”
“I can handle my coffee fine. It just can’t handle me.”
Dean set a bottle of beer in front of Chloe and sat across from her.
“Thanks,” she said without looking up.
“Anything?” he asked, looking around the crowded bar.
She gestured towards the far corner. “Biker jacket has been eyeballing every female in the room.” Dean frowned, looking at her pointedly. “Relax, he doesn’t seem interested in me,” she assured, reading his thoughts without much effort.
“Good,” Dean mumbled.
“Anyway.” Chloe bit back a smile. “I think he’s mentally surveying the women.”
“Why?”
“To find a mate.”
“The dude never heard of online dating?”
Chloe shook her head in amusement. “Dean,” she started.
He nodded. “Yeah, I know. I’ll get Sam.”
---
“I think you may be the one stalking me,” Dean joked, walking across the parking lot towards her. His gun was tucked safely in his waistband, just in case.
She frowned. “Back to mock my drinking?”
“No.” He smiled suggestively, if she was following him he shouldn’t let on that he knew. “But I am wondering what you wear to bed.”
“You’re relentless.”
“You bet.”
She paused, studying him. There was an intelligence in her eyes when she gave him a once over. She knew what she was doing and what she was looking for. When she looked away, he wondered if she’d found it. “Well, it’s been fun, but I’ve got to get to bed.”
“So you aren’t going to tell me what you wear to bed?”
“Nope.”
“Spoilsport,” he mumbled, noting the motel room she walked into. Never hurt to be cautious.
Chloe stood behind Dean as he popped the trunk and opened the hidden compartment. The sheer quantity and variety of supplies always amazed her. It was very reminiscent of her own trunk, only more supernatural-based.
“Here,” Dean said, handing her a machete. He seemed reluctant, but he didn’t argue.
Chloe took the weapon carefully and attached the leather case to her belt. “Thanks.”
“If anything,” Dean started, but was cut off when Chloe held up a hand.
“I’ll be careful. I promise.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t lose focus,” she ordered.
Dean turned his attention back to the trunk. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Hey.” Chloe grabbed his shoulder and turned him so he was facing her. ““You promised. And we already went over this.” She crossed her arms. “I know what I’m doing. I was hunting before I met you.”
Dean shook his head. “No. You were repelling spirits and demons with salt and holy water before you met me. You weren’t hunting.”
“Dean, don’t start.” Chloe didn’t want to fight. They needed to keep their head in the hunt.
Dean looked down at her, an expression on his face she couldn’t quite read. His eyes softened and he opened his mouth to say something then stopped himself and returned to the trunk. “Alright. I won’t lose focus.”
“And I’ll be careful,” Chloe compromised.
---
“A what?” Chloe asked, her hands raised instinctively.
“A hunter,” he repeated, gesturing with his gun. “Are you a hunter?”
“I’m not a hunter,” she said, remembering what her last source had called his job. “I’m just a reporter, who knows a few tricks.” She gestured to the partially dug up grave beneath her feet.
Dean instinctively took point, stepping in front of Chloe when she moved to enter the door first. Her glare was obvious even with his back to her.
They had been expecting one, maybe two vampires in the nest. The creatures’ numbers drastically reduced thanks to fellow hunters. So, when five vampires met them at the door, Dean knew they were in deep.
“Move!” he barked, the three of them swinging and fighting their way out of the nest they’d only just entered.
Sam’’s long legs carried him the furthest faster, but he hesitated enough to make sure the others were following.
“Go,” Dean ordered, grabbing Chloe’s arm, mentally adding I’ve got her.
Before he could make sure Sam had listened, something jumped him from behind, knocking him and Chloe to the ground. He heard a squish and prayed it was the mud beneath is knees.
He was turned onto his back and found himself blinking up at Mr. Biker Jacket. I’m not your type, dude. The comment dying on his lips when he saw the way the vampire eyed Chloe.
---
They were almost at the coffin when their flashlights flickered. “We’ve got company,” Dean muttered.
Chloe she’’d finally given him her name nodded and scrambled out of the hole, grabbing his gun. ““Keep digging,” she ordered.
Dean just looked at her. “You know how to use that?”
In response, she cocked it and turned towards the graveyard around them.
“Point taken,” Dean said, returning to the grave.
Chloe scrambled to her feet as the vampire yanked at Dean’s collar, nearly pulling him to his feet. Her machete was still gripped white-knuckled in her hands and she could see Dean’s glinting nearby in the sunlight.
Weren’’t vampires bothered by the sun? She wanted to ask, watching the way Biker Jacket glared down at Dean, seemingly unfazed by the light beating down on them.
At least his friends hadn’t followed.
“Drop him,” Sam ordered, walking closer, his own machete held expertly.
The vampire ignored the order, spinning Dean so the hunter’s back was pressed against his chest and wrapped an arm around his neck. “I don’t think so.”
Chloe swallowed her anxiety when Dean gasped for air. She had to stay focused. She couldn’’t save him if she was hysterical.
“Drop the knife, or else,” the vampire continued, visibly tightening his hold. Chloe thought she saw Dean’s lips lose color. Hold on.
In unison, they dropped their weapons. The vampire smirked, but Chloe noticed him grimace briefly. He wasn’t as unfazed by the sun as he was letting on.
“Here.” With supernatural strength, the creature shoved Dean forward into Sam, knocking them both to the ground like human bowling pins.
As soon as Dean was clear, Chloe scooped up her machete and lunged at the vampire. Without Dean as a shield, the effect of the sun was more obvious. The creature was panting and wincing like he’d spent days in a desert.
It took one kick to bring him to his knees. And one swing to take his head.
---
“I could use a drink,” Chloe said, watching the bones burn.
“You mean you actually drink?”
“Maybe.”
Dean nodded then smirked. Chloe was scared to realize might actually enjoy his smirk. ““Well, I could use a shower,” he said.
“It’s a good thing your room has a shower then.”
“Yeah, good thing,” Dean repeated, looking almost hurt she hadn’t taken the bait.
Dean kicked the vampire’s corpse while rubbing his sore neck. “Freakin’ Dracula,” he mumbled, his voice momentarily hoarse from the abuse.
Chloe moved to stand beside him, her machete back in its case. “Are we still going after the others?” she asked, keeping her eyes focused on him and not the body at her feet.
Sam joined them. “We need backup.” He handed Dean his machete and the older hunter frowned at the mud before wiping it on his already muddy coat. The mud he and Chloe had landed in was starting to dry on his clothes and face, making him feel stiff.
“Backup?” Chloe asked.
“Dead man’s blood,” Dean informed.
Chloe nodded in understanding, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and effectively smearing mud across her cheek.
“You look pretty,” he said, his tone more serious than he’d intended.
Chloe just rolled her eyes.
---
“So, I have a question,” Dean said, standing in her doorway. “What kind of alcohol do you drink? It isn’t that fruity stuff is it?”
Instead of rolling her eyes and shutting the door she actually laughed. “Why don’t you buy me a drink and find out?”
Dean nodded, gesturing to his clothes. “I would, but I’ve gotta shower.””
“Yeah.” She pulled at her own dirt stained shirt. “Me too.”
She wiped off as best she could before climbing into the Impala, but she still felt dirty. The motel shower was calling her name and she looked forward to answering. ““They’re going to come after us tonight, aren’t they?”” she guessed as they drove away.
Dean looked about as dirty as her, and just as annoyed. “We’ll cover our scent. And wait out the night.”
“Our best bet is waiting until daylight, tomorrow,” Sam said, finishing his brother’s thought.
Chloe plucked at her mud-caked shirt, curling a lip. “Can I still shower?”
Dean caught her gaze in the rearview mirror and smirked. “Of course,” he said in a way that made her blush.
Sam shook his head, turning his attention to the passing scenery.
---
“Thanks for your help,” Chloe said, cutting off an awkward pause before it could form.
Dean nodded. “Thanks for stopping the ghost.”
“Anytime.”
The pause finally formed and Chloe was torn between excusing herself and inviting him inside. There was something in his eyes. A question maybe, but he didn’t voice it. Kiss me. She mentally urged, hardly fazed by her thoughts. She’d never been one for moving slow.
But when he didn’t move, she did, but not towards his lips. She was a fast mover, but still gun-shy from years of heartbreak.
With a small smile she offered him her hand. “Stay in touch.”
Chloe disappeared into her motel room as soon as the Impala parked and Dean felt a familiar tug as he watched her walk away. He nearly smiled when he spotted her cell phone lying on the back seat.
An excuse.
“I’m going to return this,” he told Sam, holding the phone up for him to see.
Sam nodded, a glint in his eyes that Dean didn’t want to name. Little brothers could be real pains.
Chloe answered after the first knock, looking surprised to see him. “Dean?”
“You dropped this,” Dean said, handing her back the phone.
“Oh, thanks.” Chloe looked behind her and Dean realized he could hear water running and that she’d already started shedding her dirty clothes. She was down to a t-shirt and jeans, her bare feet sticking out from beneath mud-encrusted hems.
Dean rubbed at his neck, wondering at his sudden uncertainty. He’d never felt uncertain around Chloe. Well, not really uncertain. “So, nice job out there. Killing the vampire, I mean.”
“Thanks,” she repeated, a smile tugging at her lips. “Told you I knew what I was doing.”
“Yeah.”
There was a pause and Dean was reminded of a similar situation nearly a year earlier. He looked down at her hand, remembering the feel of it in his, during a handshake. Simple and friendly.
Dean was sick of friendly.
He leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers in a way he knew was anything but friendly. Instead of stepping back, she moved her hands up, grabbing his collar much harder than she’d ever grabbed his hand and deepened the kiss.
Dean could taste the mint on her breath and Chapstick on her lips, and decided he was ready to stay there forever in the doorway, kissing her like he’d wanted to every day for the past year.
But when he ran a hand through her hair and felt it scrap dried mud, he got a better idea.
Pulling back enough to look into her eyes, he smiled slowly. “So I have a question,” he started, repeating his words from their first meeting. “What kind of soap do you use? It isn’t that girly stuff is it?”
Chloe pressed another lingering kiss on his lips, matching his smile.
“Wanna find out?”
Title: Body Language
Author: sweeteen_200
Recipient: clarksmuse
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sam/Sarah
Summary: The body says what words cannot.
--Eyes--
She doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Maybe lust, but not love. But there’’s something about Sam that draws her to him.
Intrigue at first sight, maybe?
He looks completely out of place in his hoody and sincere smile, and she knows she should ask him to leave knowledge of Grandma Moses or not but she can’t. She wants to learn more about the man before her.
Even if he had been wearing a suit and tie she would have known he didn’t belong there just from looking in his eyes. They are friendly enough to match his smile, but there’s something guarded in them. He’s hiding a secret that she’s willing to bet is worse than anything the rich folks around her have ever kept.
She wonders what he can see in her eyes. If he can read her thoughts or if they are as guarded as his own. She wonders if he can see the interest that she’s sure is so obvious it almost makes her blush.
When he asks to see the provenances it’s on the tip of her tongue to say yes. To lead him to the office where her dad keeps all the paperwork and try to learn some of the secrets he’s guarding behind hazel eyes.
But her dad interrupts and she’s left with unanswered questions.
--Smile--
He looks even more out of place at the restaurant and she finds herself missing his hoody and jacket. The suit and tie don’t fit him any more than the wine list sitting in his hands.
But his smile is the same. Sincere smile and guarded eyes.
She orders a beer and is rewarded with a grateful look from her date. She wants to call him on his lies. Tell him she knows he’s a fake, but curiosity keeps the words from her lips. She wants to see how long he can keep the charade up.
And imposture or not, she’s glad he called. It’s sad and she knows she’’ll tease herself for her feelings later, but there’s something about him that stuck with her and she’s sure it’s more than his guarded eyes.
More than his smile.
But he’s not going to give her answers anytime soon, so she returns his smile trying to tell him everything she’s thinking without speaking a word. Words are dangerous and they make people defensive, but smiles are comforting and, if delivered correctly, they can say more than words.
So she smiles and waits for him to answer her questions.
--Gut--
He is a ghost hunter. And although the idea is completely crazy and she tells him that she believes him. Maybe it’s because she’s gullible and willing to believe anything he tells her. Maybe it’s because when he talks about the haunted painting his eyes become a little less guarded.
Or maybe it’s because she just knows he’s not lying. She has no proof. She has nothing to go by other than instinct. But when he looks at her and silently begs her to believe him she does.
Because gut instinct isn’t just an expression.
--Lips--
He leaves with a promise to return, but she doubts his words. Not because she thinks he’’s lying, but because she’s sure his life will take him far and away from anything she could offer him.
But then he’s back and he’s kissing her, and she thinks that maybe he can keep his promise. That maybe he can find a way to come back to her even when his life moves beyond her auction house and their few days together.
Her eyes are closed and she can’t see if his are still guarded, but his lips are holding hers and she realizes she doesn’t have to see his eyes to know what he’s thinking.
Because kisses say more than words and at the moment he’s saying an earful.
He told her he was cursed and that he couldn’t get close. He told her he feared for her safety and that he couldn’t take heartache again. But his kisses say different. His kisses tell her he’s willing to try, because she’s willing to try. They tell her he’s still scared, but that maybe she can break his curse if she wants to.
So she kisses him back and tells him with her mouth, but without words, that she wants to. That she’ll break his curse, if only he comes back to her.
--Hands--
He’s older the next time she sees him. Older and possibly darker. But his eyes and smile are the same and she is reminded of the man who had stood in her auction house pretending to be someone he wasn’t.
She wants to kiss him to make sure all of him is the same, but she holds back. The dark tone to him gives her pause. So instead, she takes his hand. She tangles her fingers in his and tells him she’s happy to see him and that she missed him. But it isn’t until his hand tightens in her own that she knows he feels the same.
Later, when they’ve caught up and her thoughts turn to his departure, she wonders how she can ask him to stay. How she can tell him she’ll miss him when he leaves. She knows she can’t say the words aloud because, even though she’s faced ghosts, she’s not that brave.
So she holds his hand, and touches his arm and face and heart, praying he can interpret.
And when his hand tightens around her own and he holds her face, she knows he understands. And she smiles.
--Body--
On his third trip through town she kisses him and tangles her fingers through his, telling him she missed him and that she hopes he stays longer this time. And he smiles and kisses her back and promises he will.
There’s something different in his eyes and she thinks she might know what, but she doesn’t dare guess out loud. If she’s wrong she’ll be embarrassed and possibly ruin the best thing that ever happened to her.
But if she’s right…
But she doesn’t dare and he doesn’t say anything, even though she wants him too. Because if he says it first than she’ll get the nerve to say it back. She can’t take the first step. Not this time. No matter how much she wants to.
So she kisses and holds him, and tries to tell him without any words, hoping he’ll understand.
And when he takes her to the empty motel room, with the empty bed and tells her everything she wants to know without saying a word, she smiles and answers back.
I love you too.