Written by: KariGorsuch

I rolled my eyes as Eve turned back to the guy, who was practically throwing himself at her, making it embarrassingly obvious he had no game.

"So," a warm southern drawl broke through the noise beside me, pulling my attention to a pair of blue eyes framed by dusty blonde hair. "Never seen you here before."

I raised an eyebrow, sizing him up quickly. There was something about his casual confidence that made me wary, but not fully on edge. "Just passing some time, thats all."

He smiled, a bit more relaxed now. "Name's Eli," he said, matching me as I danced.

I kept my movements slow, casual, watching him with an almost calculating gaze as he mirrored me. There was something disarming about him- his easy smile and the way he moved, like he belonged in this space without trying too hard. It was hard not to admit that there was a certain charm in his laid-back swagger- but he was just a couple inches too short.

"Eli, huh?" I said, letting the music guide my movements as I took a small step back, just enough to give myself a bit of breathing room. "I've got a few questions, Eli. Like, why is it that every guy with a southern accent thinks he can charm his way into any conversation?"

He grinned wider, clearly unbothered by my challenge. "Well, darlin', maybe it's 'cause I've learned that southern charm never hurt anyone. Unless, of course, they're the ones too stubborn to see it."

I snorted lightly, giving him a sideways glance. "You're confident, I'll give you that."

"Confidence gets you far, sweetheart," Eli said, his voice turning a little softer, as he seemed to study me now with a more focused gaze. "But it's not the same as knowing who you're dealing with."

I arched an eyebrow at Eli's shift in tone, his words lingering in the air for a moment. He was definitely trying to figure me out, but I wasn't going to make it easy for him.

"Know who I'm dealing with?" I repeated, a half-smirk playing on my lips. "Sounds like you've got me all figured out already."

Eli's lips twitched into a grin. "Oh, I'm getting there. I'm patient."

I laughed, shaking my head slightly. "Patient, huh? That your secret weapon?"

Eli opened his mouth to respond, but his gaze shot over my shoulder. Before I could turn to look, a pair of strong hands slid over my waist, the heat of his touch sending a familiar jolt through me. A deep, smooth voice cut over the noise, low and sure.

"Sorry, bud. She's not interested in anything but breaking your heart."

Eli's expression barely flickered, but I caught the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his easy smirk faltered just for a second before he masked it again. I leaned slightly into the solid warmth behind me, already knowing who it was without needing to glance up, simply from how he held me.

Sam.

Reaching up, I caught the back of his neck, my fingers tangling in the soft hair at his nape as I pulled him down for a kiss.

Sam didn't hesitate. His lips met mine in a slow, sure motion, hands crossing across my stomach to pull me back into him.

Eli let out a low whistle, shaking his head as he stopped back. "Damn. Well, sweetheart, guess I'll just have to nurse my broken heart with whiskey."

I barely registered his words, too lost in the way Sam kissed me- possessive, like he had something to prove. His fingers tightened against my stomach, pressing me so close I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back. His lips moved against mine with slow, deliberate intent, and for a moment, the noise of the bar faded into nothing.

We parted, my heart pounding for entirely different reason now, my breath mingling with his as I looked up at him. Sam's eyes were dark, a flicker of something unspoken lingering there, something we weren't ready to name. His hands didn't move from my waist, fingers still curled against my stomach like he wasn't ready to let go just yet.

Eli exhaled a laugh, shaking his head as he took a step back. "Hell of way to send a guy packing," he muttered, shooting Sam a knowing look as he turned back toward the bar. "Point made, Winchester."

I laughed, leaning my head back against his shoulder. "Where's Dean? I highly doubt you came alone..."

Sam sighed, reluctant but resigned. "He's got Eve. They're probably on their way back to Bobby's. Or holed up in some motel."

I groaned, shaking my head. "That's a mental image I did not need." I glanced up at him, smirking. "Eve and I talking about our sex lives—or lack thereof—is one thing. Talking with you about it?" I trailed off, heat creeping up my face.

Sam chuckled, his breath warm against my ear. "What? You don't want to swap notes? You don't want to know how I can't get those little breathy moans out of my head, or how it feels to have you wrapped around my co-"

I elbowed him, cutting him off as my face turned red. "No!"

Sam laughed softly, clearly unbothered by my interruption, his chest rumbling against my back as he tightened his grip around my waist. "I'm just saying, you've got to know what that kind of thing does to a guy. Can't help it if I think about you that way."

I groaned, shifting away just slightly but not enough to break the connection between us. "You're impossible, Winchester," I muttered, my cheeks flushing despite myself. "Could've just let that conversation die."

"I could've," Sam agreed with a teasing grin, his eyes glinting with mischief. "But you're way too fun to mess with."

I shot him a look, but I couldn't hide the small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "You're lucky I'm into this banter."

"Lucky? Hell, I'm the one who's got the best seat in the house," Sam said, his hands now resting lightly on my hips as he gave me a mock serious expression. "And don't think I won't bring up how you're still thinking about me."

I laughed despite the heat spreading across my face. "It was one time, Winchester..."

Sam's grin turned wicked as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping low and teasing. "One time, huh? Sounds like you're still not over it."

I felt a pulse of heat flood through me, but I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much of an effect he had on me. "I'm not-" I said with exaggerated indifference. "I just think you're full of yourself."

Sam chuckled, the sound rich with confidence and a hint of amusement. "Full of myself, huh? I think you're just trying to pretend I don't have you exactly where I want you."

I shot him a playful glare, narrowing my eyes as I leaned back slightly, feeling the tension between us build. "I doubt you have me exactly where you want me," I smirked, finally turning to face him, tossing my arms around his neck. "Because the way I see it- we're still in a bar, not anywhere near a bed."

Sam's eyes darkened with a mix of challenge and something else—something I couldn't quite place, but it sent a shiver down my spine. He grinned, that familiar, cocky smile, creeping back onto his lips.

I pulled his head down, my lips brushing against his ear. "Don't think you're the only one turned on here, Sam."

Sam froze for a brief moment, his breath hitching just slightly at my words. The shift in the air was palpable, and I could feel the heat between us intensifying.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my neck before his voice came out in a low growl. "Is that so?" His hand slid down my back, resting at the curve of my waist, pulling me closer until there was barely an inch of space left between us. "Because it sure feels like I'm the one driving this."

I tilted my head back slightly, giving him the space he needed to move, but my eyes never left his. "You think you're in control?" I asked, my tone a mixture of teasing and challenge.

Sam's grin didn't fade, but there was something darker behind it now. Something more possessive. "I don't think, I know," he murmured, his lips barely brushing mine, making me ache for more.

I closed the small distance, capturing his lips in a kiss that was slow, teasing, and deliberate. His hand tightened around my waist, the pressure intensifying as he responded in kind, kissing me deeper, harder.

The world around us seemed to fade—the music, the chatter, everything—until it was shattered by a shrill ringtone, followed by vibration in my back pocket. The sudden jarring vibration from my back pocket broke the tension between us, pulling me back to reality. Sam's grip on me loosened just enough for me to pull away, his lips still brushing against mine as I reached into my pocket to silence the call.

But it wasn't just a call- it was him. My father.

I stared at the screen for a split second, the sighed heavily, knowing exactly what was coming. With a deep breath, I answered, holding the phone to my ear, trying to push down the rust of frustration that bubbled up in me.

"Brianna Ella Harper!" My fathers voice boomed through the phone, loud enough that even Sam raised an eyebrow. "Where the hell are you? Where have you been? You've been gone for days, and I'm getting worried, Bri! You were supposed to be back from your trip with Eve by now!"

I felt a wave of irritation wash over me, but I swallowed it, knowing this wasn't the time for a fight. Still, his yelling always got under my skin. I rubbed my forehead, closing my eyes for a brief moment, trying to collect myself.

"I'm fine, Dad," I said, my voice strained but calm. "I told you- I'm with Eve. We're fine."

"Fine? FINE?" His voice cracked with impatience. "What the hell does that even mean, Brianna? You disappeared without a word other than 'I'm going on a trip with Eve,' and now you're telling me everything is fine?" He paused, the sound of him pacing was audible on the other end. "You know, I didn't raise you to abandon everything and run off without a plan. What the hell do you think you're doing? You have responsibilities, your life, your future..."

I winced at the sharpness of his words. Sam shot me a glance, sensing the tension. I held my hand up, silently asking him to stay quiet.

"Dad- it's not like that," I said, my voice quiet, but there was a hint of frustration that I couldn't completely mask. "I haven't abandoned anything. I just.... Needed some time and space to figure things out. I'll be back when I'm ready."

"Ready? Ready for what? Ready to break your mothers heart? To throw your life away? What the hell are you doing out there? Where are you, Brianna? You think I'm just going to let you disappear without knowing where you are or what you're up to?" His voice grew louder, fear and worry turning it sharp.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push back the overwhelming frustration building in my chest. Sam stood next to me, watching carefully, his hand resting gently on my back as if to ground me.

"I'm with friends," I said, my tone finally harder. "And I'll be home when I'm damn well ready to come home, okay? I'm not some kid anymore, Dad. I can take care of myself."

There was a pause, followed by a heavy exhale from my father. "Brianna, I'm just trying to protect you. You can't just run away from everything."

"Watch me," I muttered, the words slipping out before I could stop them, laced with defiance and something deeper- something raw. Sam's grip on my back tightened just slightly, grounding me, but I barely registered it.

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the call, and then my father exhaled sharply, his voice dropping lower. "Brianna," he said, his tone now edged with something between frustration and exhaustion. "This isn't a game. You think you can just keep running and avoid reality? Life doesn't work that way."

I clenched my jaw, already exhausted by the conversation. "I'm not running away," I said, though even I wasn't entirely sure what I would be running from. "I just... I needed space, Dad. I need to do this my way."

A muffled burst of laughter echoed from across the bar, followed by the sound of shattering glass that had both Sam and I's head whipping towards the bar. Sam's hand instinctively pressed firmer against my back, his body tensing slightly as he scanned the scene. Just a drunken accident, probably. But I knew the damage had already been done- not at the bar, but over the phone.

My father's sharp inhale crackled through the speaker, his tone shifting from frustrated to outright livid. "What the hell was that, Brianna? Tell me you're not in a bar right now."

I shut my eyes, dropping my forehead against Sam's chest and suppressing the groan that was clawing its way up my throat. "Dad-"

"Are you kidding me?" He cut me off, his voice rising with disbelief. "You disappear for days, and now I find out you're off drinking, wasting time in some damn dive-"

"It's not like that," I snapped, my patience thinning fast. "I'm not out here getting wasted or throwing my life away. I just needed a break."

"A break," he scoffed. "A break from what? From the future you're supposed to be building? From the family that's worried sick about you?"

I clenched my jaw, gripping the phone tighter as frustration burned beneath my skin. "From everything, Dad. From the pressure, from the expectations, from feeling like I'm drowning in a life that doesn't even feel like mine anymore."

Sam's fingers flexed slightly against my waist, a silent show of support, but I barely registered it.

My father let out a sharp breath. "You think running off and hiding in a bar is going to fix that?"

"I'm not hiding," I shot back, my voice rising despite my best effort to keep it steady. "I just needed time to figure things out. To breathe. To actually think without someone constantly telling me what I should be doing with my life."

"Fine," he said, but there was no mistaking the disappointment laced in his tone. "But don't expect me to sit around waiting forever, Brianna."

The call ended with a click, leaving me standing there, the weight of his words settling deep in my chest.

Sam didn't say anything at first—he just watched me, waiting, letting me process. Then, after a beat, his fingers brushed against mine before gently prying the phone from my grip and tucking it back into my backpocket. "Hey," his voice was soft, steady and grounding. "You okay?"

I let out a breath, shaky and uneven, before forcing a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah," I lied. "I'm fine."

Sam didn't call me out on the lie, but the way his eyes softened told me he saw right thorough it. His hand didn't leave my waist, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against my side like he was trying to anchor me to something solid.

"Come on," he murmured, tilting his head toward the bar. "You need a drink?"

I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head. "That's probably the last thing I need right now."

Sam smirked, but didnt push. "Then let's get out of here. Take a walk, clear your head."

"Let's just... Go back to Bobby's." I sighed, reluctantly pulling away from him. Grabbing my jacket from the booth Eve and I had occupied, I turned back to Sam, who was already shrugging on his own jacket.

Reaching into my pocket, I held the keys to the Mustang out to him. "You drive," I said, the weight of the conversation with my dad lingering in my head.

Sam arched an eyebrow as he took the keys from my hand, his fingers brushing against mine for a brief second before he curled them into his palm. "Okay, now I know you're not fine. You never let me drive her- unless you're half-dead or concussed."

I rolled my eyes, stuffing my hands into my jacket pockets. "Yeah, well, consider it a moment of better judgement. If I drove back- I'd probably end up in jail- or at least with several speeding tickets."

"Guess I can't argue with that," Sam chuckled, placing a hand on the small of my back and gently guiding me out of the bar.

We stepped outside into the cool night air, the sounds of the bar fading behind us as we made our way to the car. I kept my gaze on the pavement, trying to push down the lingering weight of my father's words, but they clung to me, wrapping around my ribs like barbed wire.

Sam unlocked the Mustang and slid into the driver's seat, waiting until I was settled in beside him before starting the engine. The familiar purr of the car filled the silence between us, steady and grounding.

We drove in silence for a while before I muttered, "I need to go back."

Sam didn't respond immediately, his grip on the steering wheel tightening just a fraction as he kept his eyes focused on the road ahead. After a moment, he glanced over, his expression unreadable. "Go back where, Bri?"

"Home," I whispered, staring at my hands as I picked at my fingers.

Sam exhaled through his nose, his fingers flexing against the steering wheel before he spoke again. "You sure about that?" His voice was careful, measured- like he was giving me an out if I wanted it.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "No," I admitted. "But I think I have to." I finally looked at him, searching for something- reassurance, understanding, maybe just the promise that I wasn't making a huge mistake.

Sam's jaw ticked, and for a second, he didn't say anything. Then, with a small nod, he said, "Alright." Just like that. No lectures, just quiet acceptance.

The weight in my chest loosened, just a little. "Alright?" I echoed.

Sam smirked, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. If you need to go back, then that's where we'll go."

I huffed out something that was almost a laugh. "We? I don't remember putting an invitation out..."

Sam shot me a look, one brow quirking up in amusement. "Yeah, well, lucky for you, I don't wait for invitations."

I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth betrayed me, tugging upward in the faintest hint of a smile. "So what, you're just gonna follow me home like some overgrown stubborn guard dog?"

Sam shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. "Something like that."

I let out a breath, shaking my head. "You know my dad's going to lose his mind when he sees you, right? He won't care that we aren't together-you're still going to be with me."

Sam's smirk widened, "Yeah, I'm actually counting on it."

I groaned, letting my head fall back against the seat. "Of course you are."

Sam chuckled, the sound low and smug. "What? If he's already pissed at you, might as well give him a little something extra to be mad out."

I shot him a glare, but there wasn't any real heat behind it. "You're the worst."

"Nah," he said easily, casting me a sideways glance. "I'm the best bad decision you've ever made."

I blushed, glancing out the window. "...What are we, Sam?"

Sam's fingers stilled against the steering wheel, his smirk fading just a fraction. For a beat, all I could hear was the steady hum of the Mustang's engine and the faint rush of the wind outside.

"You tell me, Bri." His voice was quiet, missing the usual teasing edge.

I swallowed, still staring out the window like the answer might be written in the passing headlights. "I don't know," I admitted. "Some days, it feels like we're just messing around. Other days, it feels like... more. Every relationship I've been in has been..." I trailed off, shaking my head.

Sam glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "A disaster?"

I let out a dry laugh, twisting in the seat to lean against the door. "That's one way to put it." I sighed, rubbing my palms against my thighs. "I guess I just- don't know how to do this."

He was quiet for a moment, like he was mulling over his words. Then, he huffed out a breath and said, "You ever notice how you run your mouth about everything else, but when it comes to me, you suddenly got nothing to say?"

"Excuse me?" I shot back, throwing a sharp glare at him. "I've got nothing to say because I don't fucking know."

Sam smirked, but it wasn't the usual cocky, teasing one- it was smaller, almost knowing. "Exactly," he muttered, shaking his head.

I crossed my arms, feeling my frustration twist into something else, something messier. "What the hell does that mean? You say that like I'm supposed to know what a healthy relationship looks like. Remember Sam- you beat the shit out of my last relationship."

Sam let out a sharp breath, his jaw ticking. "Yeah," he muttered, voice low. "And I'd do it again."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "Of course you would."

He exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to keep his temper in check. "Bri, he deserved it. You know that."

I swallowed hard, looking down at my hands. "That's not the point- I know he did."

Sam finally glanced over, his eyes dark, serious. "Then what is the point? That I cared enough to step in? That I wasn't just gonna sit back and let some asshole..." he trailed off, unwilling to voice the words. "Take advantage of you like that."

I clenched my jaw, my chest tight. "The point is that I don't know how to do this, Sam. Us. Every relationship I've been in has been toxic, a disaster, a goddamn mess, and you-" I paused, shaking my head. "You've been so... good to me."

Sam let out a breath, "That a bad thing?"

"No!" I blurted out, running a hand through my hair. "No, but it scares the hell out of me."

Sam downshifted as we approached the city limits of Souix Falls, dropping our speed down. "Why?"

I shifted in the seat, turning away from him and avoiding the question. "How'd Dean take the news about Eve?"

Sam's expression shifted, the mood in the car dropping considerably. "He didn't take it well. Really didn't take it well when we figured out that you two had gone to the Roadhouse." Sam sighed heavily, "What the hell were you thinking? Going to a fucking hunters bar?"

I startled in the seat, snapping a sharp glance to him. "Wait- a hunters bar? What are you talking about?"

His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he glanced over, his eyes darkening. "Yeah. The Roadhouse- its a hunters bar. Not exactly the safest place for a vampire- or a civilian, Bri."

I blinked, trying to wrap my head around what he was saying. "But Eve and I-" I started, but sam cut me off, his voice edged with frustration.

"Eve was turned, Bri," he snapped, his tone sharper than I'd expected. "That changes things. You don't just wander into a place like that-"

"How the fuck was I supposed to know?! You and Bobby just said to get out of the house- so we did!" I snapped back, suddenly wishing we were back at Bobby's already. "No one said 'Stay away from this place, it's full of people who will kill you without a second thought.' So how the fuck were we supposed to know?!"

Sam's eyes flicked to me for a moment, his jaw tight as he took in my outburst. "You're right. I'm sorry. We should have told you not to go there."

"Damn fucking right you should have," I sighed heavily, the fight bleeding out of me at his words. "Besides- you certainly didn't seem to mind when you showed up. Eli and I were just talking."

He snorted, "Just talking, huh? If I hadn't shown up, would he have been in my place? Would you have been dancing that close with him? Grinding on him?"

"Why are you bringing this up now, Sam? Why not in the middle of the bar?" I snapped.

His eyes flashed, and his jaw tightened again. "Because I couldn't fucking stand seeing you with him like that," he spat, his voice laced with frustration. "I held back out of respect for Ellen, but now? Now there's nothing stopping me from saying what's been eating at me all night."

"Spit it out." The words were almost a shout, but the came out more like a challenge, my anger rising again. The Mustang crept slowly down the familiar driveway, and as we neared Bobby's the weight of the conversation felt heavier than the gravel under the tires.

When I made a move to get out, Sam locked the doors, the sudden sounds sparking a wave of alarm through me. "Sam..."

"...We're having this conversation." His gaze was locked on me, his voice low but firm as he turned the keys to kill the engine. "Bri, we've had sex."

I rolled my eyes, almost sarcastically, "Yes, Sam. I'm aware."

"We've cuddled, flirted, even held hands," Sam continued, counting the instances on his fingers like he was laying out some sort of case. "But you're more willing to flirt with a stranger in public than call this... anything at all."

"I said I didn't know what the fuck to call it, Sam," I snapped, feeling the heat rise in my chest. "You're pushing this-"

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head, frustration clear in his eyes. "I'm trying to figure out where I stand." He gestured with both hands, pointing between us. "I think we both need to figure out where we stand, because whatever this is..." he waved a hand between us. "It's strong."

I bit my lip, looking away. I stared through the damp windshield, noticing for the first time that rain had fallen while we were driving.

"Listen," I sighed, uncrossing my arms and turning toward him, meeting his gaze fully. "I don't know what this is." I gestured between us. "But it's heavy- it's hot- and it's something I've never had to deal with- let alone feel every single day I'm with you."

Sam's gaze softened, but only slightly. "What do you want to do about it, then?" His voice was calm, but the seriousness in his eyes told me he wasn't backing down.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I hesitated, glancing around the Mustang, out the windows- searching for anything. A distraction, inspiration, hell, maybe even the end of the world. All of that would be easier than this.

"Sam," I sighed, voice quieter. I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "If you're interested in whatever this is... Maybe we should take it slow?"

"Slow?" Sam echoed, raising an eyebrow. "You want slow, after jumping straight into bed together? Bri-"

"That was a lapse in judgement- one that I do not regret- but yes, slow." I said firmly, my chest tightening. "I'm scared," the confession slipped out before I could stop it. "I'm scared of the chemistry between us- scared of how fucking good you are."

His expression shifted. The fight in his posture eased just a little, and his voice softened. "Scared of me?"

I shook my head, exhaling hard. "No. Of this. Of what it means. Of how easy it would be to let myself fall for you." My fingers curled into the hem of my sleeve, gripping tight. "I don't do easy, Sam. Nothing in my life has ever been easy, I don't want to screw this up. If we jump into this like we did everything else, we'll just end up hurting each other."

Sam let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Hurt? You don't think this already hurt me?" He gestured toward me, frustration flickering in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, alright?!" I snapped, my voice rising in sheer exasperation. His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. "I don't know what I'm doing, how this works, or how big this is, Sam. I've never felt like this before-"

I cut myself off too late. The words were out, and the weight of them pressed into the silence. Sam just watched me, his gaze unreadable.

"What I meant was-"

"I know what you meant." His lips twitched, his frustration melting into something almost amused. He exhaled, shaking his head before unlocking the doors.

"Come on," he said, nodding toward the house. "Looks like everyone's still up..."

I watched as he climbed out of the Mustang, the interior light flooding the space before he shut the door behind him. The moment he was gone, I let out a shaky breath and buried my face in my hands.