[ He gives a thankful smile before using it to wipe himself a bit cleaner. But is there regret on his face? Not a hint. Despite what she may think, he actually enjoys that quite a bit. But a response like that causes a bit of worry.
Sometimes he concentrates on his own feelings of inadequacy too much. He places a hand on her shoulder and nuzzles the side of her cheek. ]
[Sometimes, in her frustration with him, she forgets how sweet Sam can be. But then she sees it. That innate goodness to him. The kindness. The loyalty she witnessed the day they met.]
We.
[Because she hates the self-effacing crap he dumps on himself.]
We are something good.
[Lightly, she puts her hands on his shoulders, slipping off of the sink. She feels a little wobbly, but leans against him for support.]
[ He huffs quietly, but doesn't argue and offers a smile for the effort. Though he steps back to give her room, he puts a hand at her own shoulder to help steady her. ]
[ No, he's definitely not complaining. Her teeth at his neck is par for the course, adding to the bruise he's already sporting, but being so bold--well, he can't help the grunt that comes up with the addition of the pressure and warmth of her hand mixed with the constraints of the denim. There's a noticeable bulge down there. ]
[ He's gripping her own hips again, willing her to just do anything. He was planning on taking care of it himself, maybe give her a moment to get dressed, but if she wants to do this... ]
[ His eyes fall shut, but his brows twitch as she touches him. He's usually someone who prefers not to talk in moments like this, but he still walks her through it. It only takes a few minutes before he's jerking his hips and finishing in her hand. ]
[Somehow, it's a bit more satisfying than she would have anticipated. Probably because it's Sam. He makes her feel so...
...not dead.
Inside thought. Definitely an inside thought. At least until she parses it out. For now, it's a few more tender kisses along the side of his neck, before she rests against his shoulder.]
[ It's not as good as being inside of her, but it's a lot more enjoyable than his own hand, that's for sure. Sam takes a moment to even out his breathing as he simply nods, hopefully abating her fears with that single motion. He takes a moment to readjust and tuck himself back into his pants, placing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. ]
[She could get very, very sentimental right now. But that phantom pang in her side reminds her that she can't. That having Sam means...not having Sam.
So there are no remarks to the tune of "I wish we could spend more time together" or "I hate this sneaking around." Only an absent smile and a teasing:]
[ He can't argue with that. He makes a mental note to wear his hoodie for the next few days in case he runs into Dean. But he watches her move to the ground with some concern, tilting his head to the side. ]
Isn't that what's important?
[ He crouches down in front of her, resting his wrists on his knees. ]
[ He shakes his head, frowning a bit. Maybe because sometimes that feels like it's all he does; cope. Make it through the day and say that's the best he can do. He knows it shouldn't be. ]
We all have to cope. No one wants this.
[ No one in their right mind, at least.
But her question makes him pause. He doesn't have a direct answer, unable to fully weigh one against the other. Sometimes it feels just like one big nightmare--is there really a beginning and end from one to the other? ]
I don't know. There are a lot of similarities...they're both nothing anyone should have to go through.
[ And deftly doesn't offer any further explanations. ]
It bothers her more than she cares to admit. The nagging feeling that Sam is hiding something from her. Or worse yet, trying to shield her from something. The former, she could deal with, if that's what it was. But the latter hits a nerve. She's a grown-ass woman. And she deserves to be treated as an equal. Not some pathetic...
[ His motivations are, in part, selfish. He doesn't want her to know things that would scare her, things he's upset and feels guilty about. Things that would make her find more reason not to trust him, but he also knows how stubborn she is. There is a factor of her own safety involved, and something like that, Sam won't back down on. Not when it deals with the devil. Not when it deals with Sam being a monster. ]
I know. [ He wishes he had answers. ] It's not easy.
[ He shakes his head again. Shoulds and didnts...are something he's familiar with. But there's a huge difference between them; at the time, Sam didn't even care. ]
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Sometimes he concentrates on his own feelings of inadequacy too much. He places a hand on her shoulder and nuzzles the side of her cheek. ]
You are something good.
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We.
[Because she hates the self-effacing crap he dumps on himself.]
We are something good.
[Lightly, she puts her hands on his shoulders, slipping off of the sink. She feels a little wobbly, but leans against him for support.]
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You okay?
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[She set a palm on his chest, her fingers falling into the lines of his muscles. For a moment, she has the faintest smile.
And then she glances up, catching his eyes.
...and backs him up to the wall with a sudden, fierce grin.]
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Guess they're not done yet. ]
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Covering it, Fatima leans over, nipping at his neck again, burying her face in his skin.
Meanwhile, her hand slides down his stomach and into his jeans.]
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Lightly, she trails her lips up along the side of his neck, to a spot behind his ear.]
You may need to...tell me what to do. A little.
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Just--keep your hand moving.
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Hard to care, at the moment.
Nodding just slightly, her cheek brushing against his, she complies.]
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...not dead.
Inside thought. Definitely an inside thought. At least until she parses it out. For now, it's a few more tender kisses along the side of his neck, before she rests against his shoulder.]
Was that...?
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Thank you.
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Not a bad way to say, "Glad you're still here."
[Or "Glad you're not dead."]
I...
[A pause.]
Don't laugh. But, I mean...I miss you. When you're not around.
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I miss you too.
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[She closes her eyes, head on his shoulder.]
Better than I was expecting.
I would have laughed.
[She could get very, very sentimental right now. But that phantom pang in her side reminds her that she can't. That having Sam means...not having Sam.
So there are no remarks to the tune of "I wish we could spend more time together" or "I hate this sneaking around." Only an absent smile and a teasing:]
I think I got a little carried away on your neck.
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[ He, apparently, is okay with some Soap Operas, but Sam has his limits.
At the mention, he reaches up and absently rubs the area in question before leaning to the side to admire it in the mirror. ]
Holy crap.
[ That's not going to be easy to hide. When he looks back down at her, he's a mix of surprise and impressed. ]
You work fast.
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We agreed I was calmer than last time. That didn't mean I was...you know...calm.
[Fatima sinks down to the ground, leaning her shoulder and side against the wall.]
At the risk of setting what is, no doubt, a very unhealthy precedent...I feel better now.
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Isn't that what's important?
[ He crouches down in front of her, resting his wrists on his knees. ]
We all find our own ways to cope.
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[Her own stubbornness can work against her sometimes. It twists her brain into knots, where she sees some kind of surrender.]
Admitting that this place might actually be worse than Zelien. And that I'm in over my head.
[A thoughtful pause. She looks up at him, lizard-like and unblinking for a moment or two.]
Is it? Worse than Zelien? You still haven't told me about what happened there, after I blacked out.
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We all have to cope. No one wants this.
[ No one in their right mind, at least.
But her question makes him pause. He doesn't have a direct answer, unable to fully weigh one against the other. Sometimes it feels just like one big nightmare--is there really a beginning and end from one to the other? ]
I don't know. There are a lot of similarities...they're both nothing anyone should have to go through.
[ And deftly doesn't offer any further explanations. ]
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[She sees what you're doing, Winchester.
It bothers her more than she cares to admit. The nagging feeling that Sam is hiding something from her. Or worse yet, trying to shield her from something. The former, she could deal with, if that's what it was. But the latter hits a nerve. She's a grown-ass woman. And she deserves to be treated as an equal. Not some pathetic...
Well, it doesn't matter.]
We're going through both, regardless of "should."
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I know. [ He wishes he had answers. ] It's not easy.
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[Nothing really to say to that. If wishes were horses, and all that.
She lowers her eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a long stretch.]
I should have found you. I'm sorry I didn't.
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I can say the same thing.
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