Sam Winchester (
gavemea_45) wrote in
milliways_bar2007-07-02 08:53 pm
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If Sam never sees another catfish ever again, that'll be perfectly fine with him.
Perhaps especially not a giant spinning catfish -- which, as it turns out, isn't actually supposed to be spinning.
This would be why Sam is currently hunched over a table, poring over a collection of books, notes, his laptop, and John Winchester's journal, trying to figure out how on earth to exorcise a possessed statue of a fish.
As far as he knows, Dean's still back in the hotel room, laughing himself sick.
Perhaps especially not a giant spinning catfish -- which, as it turns out, isn't actually supposed to be spinning.
This would be why Sam is currently hunched over a table, poring over a collection of books, notes, his laptop, and John Winchester's journal, trying to figure out how on earth to exorcise a possessed statue of a fish.
As far as he knows, Dean's still back in the hotel room, laughing himself sick.
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*It's of a female figure with graceful butterfly wings, dressed in gauzy robes, embracing a donkey-headed man in rough peasant's garb.*
This guy's got a section on love philtres and how to counter them, but he's not very reliable ...
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Sam leans over, craning his neck in order to get a better look.
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Puck doesn't know where they got that book, but things are clearly reaching a critical point here-- and if there's one thing he believes, it's that it's no fun if somebody figures out the game before he's done playing.
Therefore, to outside observers, Andrew and Sam appear to fall into a peaceful and near-simultaneous slumber ...
After having been struck from behind by some presumably blunt (though wholly invisible) object. They appear to be somewhat like that. Anyway, after that, Puck acts quickly: The offending text is tucked into his invisible shirt, and both Sam and Andrew are liberally dosed with love-in-idleness.
Then Puck retreats to the rafters once again.
What the world needs now ...
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On the worn yet fuzzy chair.
Pretty soul! she durst not lie
Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy.
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Leaving his freshly-stolen book perched precariously on a beam, Puck drops down to the floor again to add one fiiiiiinal touch to this near-perfect romantic masterpiece.
He really does have the soul of a poet, you know.
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*If one weren't unconscious.*
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That would never describe Sam Winchester.
(Maybe Dean.)
It doesn't take Kaylee very much time to wake up, and stretch.
It takes Kaylee even less time to make a beeline to Sam's side. "Hey -- " She shakes his shoulder, gently. "Are you -- "
People don't often conk out over their books, is the thing. Not like this.
Especially not people this pretty.
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Sam stirs, raising one hand to the back of his head -- which is really aching for some reason -- and then blinks, looking up at her.
A beat, and a shy, endearing smile.
"Hey."
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Kaylee catches her lip between her teeth as she smiles (and if Sam's is shy, hers is a little...knowing).
And then, laughing: "I swear I had somethin' to tell you, but it must've flown right out of my head -- but -- that don't matter, does it?" She leans against the table, leaning on her hand, turning in toward him, still with that smile.
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Sam's not paying much attention to anything around him, at least not for any longer than it takes to shoves the books on the table out of Kaylee's way.
He smiles back at her.
"I guess you'll just have to stick around until you remember it."
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*Andrew's hand goes to the back of his head, touches it gingerly, and immediately withdraws. Wincing, he raises his head and blearily opens his eyes.*
*...oh.*
*It's only in his head that that face is outlined in light and backed by a chorus of angelic voices.*
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Sam shifts in his chair, pushing back from the table a bit.
"--if you're not, you know, busy."
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*...Except he's smiling at her.*
Um.
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Beat.
"...hey, I'm taller than you." She sounds enchanted by this realization.
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He takes her hand in his, tugging her a step closer.
"See?"
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Um?
*And a little plaintive, and a tiny bit reproachful.*
We were ... doing stuff.
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"Right. Stuff."
A pause, and Sam gives Andrew an easygoing, winning smile.
"I'll -- there's some other things I need to look into first. To, um, you know-- check out. So's to be sure. You understand, right?"
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That would be rude.
...she might look like she wants to. Just a little.
Clearly the answer is to trail an adoring hand down Sam's shoulder and observe him in profile.
Yeah. She's zoned out.
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*And maybe it is okay. Because Sam wouldn't go off and leave important research in the middle, would he? Of course not. He's ... dedicated. And steadfast. And honorable. If he says he has stuff to check into first, then it must be important. Sam wouldn't lie to him.*
*He's probably talking in vague generalities because of this girl who's all over him. Maybe he needs to get some information out of her. In which case he can't exactly say so out loud, can he? Better leave him to it.*
You'll, um ... you'll let me know? After?
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"Of course."
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*The words are a small warm glow in his chest. Of course.*
Okay. I, um.
*Hastily, he gathers up his stack of books, feeling the smile stretch his cheeks, feeling the pink spreading from the tips of his ears.*
Later.
*And exit stage right.*
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Zoneage.
Serious, serious zoneage.
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"Now where were we?"
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"Oh." Beaming, now, with slow warmth.
(And blushing, a little. Maybe.)
"I think we'd figured out that I'm okay bein' right here. But -- after that...it's..." Her voice trails off.
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