Why Sam?
Ξ August 25th, 2007 | → | ∇ Imitating Angels, Supernatural, fanfic, het, r |
Title: Why Sam?
Author: Astrothsknot
Fandom: Supernatural
Series: Imitating Angels - AU
Pairing: Sam/Jess
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Kripke’s, not mine
A/N for Frayen’s prompt of Pillow Talk. Sam always talks after sex. Jessica listens because she’d tell the truth if she spoke.
She listens to the rise and fall of Sam’s voice, feeling it rumble through his chest. He’s pulled her tight against him, to keep her safe, keep her exclusive.
His.
Sam ‘n’ Jess.
She likes that idea. She’s no choice but to like the idea, but she thinks she would, if she were given the choice.
She wonders sometimes, about the Other, the one she was designed to replace, until this Other returns for him.
Dean. She rolls his name around in her head like a charm, something miraculous to ward away sin.But that’s her task. She pauses for a second in her reverie; Sam has stopped talking, like he’s said something that requires an answer. She searches quickly for the right thing to say - she always knows the right thing to say.
“What, Babe?” she says as she leans up to him, kisses his lips gently. He smiles against her kiss.
“All those guys in the bar that night? What was it about me?”
She’s not allowed to lie, but she can’t tell him the truth either. “You on that again? Can’t you just accept your incredible good luck?”
“No. I don’t believe in luck.”
“You were the only guy that I could look up to.”
Sam laughs.
She can’t tell him that it took months of making sure she caught his eye in their mutual classes, making sure he was out in the bar on his 21st birthday, turning down offers from all quarters. Engineering that game of body shots - he’d never have touched her otherwise. Saw it in his face when she walked across and challenged him - body shots for the birthday boy - like the Other, like Dean.
It’s something he would do, that recklessness, that joie de vive. They knew that’s what Sam would go for, find attractive - he’s used to his other half having those qualities.
But she can’t tell him that. He can’t know…not until after.
She doesn’t want to think about after.
It makes her kiss Sam with an intensity he can’t understand, every chance she gets. She wants to, needs to make the most of every moment. She can’t keep her hands off him.
She hopes that it’s years before He comes for her. That happens sometimes - it was years before he came for Mary, Sam’s mother. She was allowed have children. She doesn’t believe the theory that she was meant for Sam to suffer her loss. He doesn’t recall her, just the vague concept of Mother.
The loss of Lover will hit him far deeper.
Her tongue sweeps the roof of Sam’s mouth and he groans, hands coming round to caress the wide, thick scars that run two inches wide and nine inches long parallel on each shoulder blade.
He’s never asked.
She’s glad. She doesn’t know what she’d say.
So she kisses down his chest, swirls her tongue over the ridges of his stomach, across to his sides where he’s most sensitive, listening to his breathing quicken, feeling him shiver under her hands.
She tries to be everything to Sam, like the Other, like Dean would. She knows that Dean fed Sam, clothed Sam, went to Sam’s school plays and sports days. She knows Dean soothed his hurts and made him smile.
She can do this. It’s what she was made for, to be a Placeholder until Dean can return to Sam. His dick is blunt against her cunt as Sam pulls her up, he doesn’t want to wait any longer. She can feel his fingers along her scars.
She wonders what John thought of Mary’s and if he ever asked. She wonders what Mary told him. How she tried to twist the truth, because he couldn’t know the truth, but he mustn’t be lied to, either.
Sam pushes in, gently, so not to hurt her. She arches up against him as her flesh parts and spreads before him, sensation searing out across her skin. Sam’s watching her face as he moves, so beautifully slowly and she wonders what he sees. He looks so reverent as he watches her.
Like she’s something holy.
She’s just a placeholder, something to keep him on the right path and set him on his way when the time comes.
She hopes it’s quick. She kisses Sam likes she’s dying. One day she will.
That night, she hears clattering and banging in the living room and turns on the light. Oh Dear God, he’s here!
“Sam?” she speaks, voice steady, she can’t believe it’s so steady. It’s bizarre.
He looks so much like her, like both of her. They made her well. She’s not just got his swagger, she’s got his looks. For Heaven’s sake, she doesn’t even get to have her own birthday.
“Your brother, Dean?” Smile, don’t forget to smile.
“I gotta tell you, you are way outta my brother’s league.”
You’re the reason for that. She wonders if Dean has parallel scars upon his back, but he probably just takes after the flesh of his mother. Even They have no control over the genetics of their children.She makes a token protest, because she’s supposed to do that, but doesn’t seriously prevent him from going. She isn’t sure if she’d win an ultimatum. She suspects she wouldn’t and it’s not her right.
She hopes it will be quick.
Why Sam? His nightmares ask and he searches for a reason. But Sam’s not the one she’s asking.She wants him to ask her. But it’s too late now. The Other has returned to Sam’s side like he never left and she means nothing. But that’s her lot. She was merely a placeholder and her place no longer needs to be held.
