"Mary," Sam's dad said, looking right at her, and Jess shook her suddenly pounding head, trying to clear it.
"Your wife's name was Mary?" Jess tried to follow along, but that must have been the wrong thing to say, because his face shut down like a shot. "Sorry," she said, pulling her still-damp hair free from its loose ponytail, "my head's a little sore. I think I need some aspirin."
Without a word, he got up to get it, and she was left on their living-room couch, plucking nervously at the loose threads in the blanket Sam had been sleeping under, and wondering what she'd done to piss his dad off. At some point, she was going to break him down and he was going to admit that she was the right girl to make Sam happy, and it was going to happen sooner rather than later.
She'd just gotten up to go after him when the front door opened and Sam walked in with a big bag from Whataburger, and her stomach growled. She couldn't remember eating anything all day. Hell, she couldn't remember what she' d been up to for the past couple days; she needed that aspirin now. Or maybe just some endorphins.
She threw her arms around Sam's neck and pulled him down, then kissed him for all she was worth. He was warm from the sunshine, strong as ever, and she felt more than a little thrill when he picked her up halfway through like she weighed nothing at all, even though the takeout bag was still looped around one of his wrists. She got her fingers in his hair and pulled just the slightest bit, not enough to drag that magic mouth away from hers.
Behind her, she heard something but couldn't be bothered to stop kissing Sam long enough to glance that way. "Here's your aspirin," Sam's dad said, dry as dust, and Sam jerked in surprise; she wasn't far enough off the ground to fall, but she landed on her feet harder than she meant to.
"Thanks," she said, totally unable to read the expression on his face. She scooped the two pills up from his palm and took the glass of water he held out for her. When his cell phone rang and he checked the caller ID, his face got a lot easier to interpret. "Dean?" she guessed, and he smiled at her, a nicer one than she'd seen before, one that made it clear who Sam had inherited his brilliant smile from, and headed out the door to take the call and give them some privacy.
She wasn't about to let the opportunity slip. "Come make me feel better, Sam," she invited, setting down the pills and the water. She could see puzzlement flash in his eyes, so she grabbed his hand and led him down the hall to her room. It was clear that Sam was trying to work something out in his head, so she contented herself with stripping out of her own clothes and leaving him alone; only when a smile began to creep across his face did she pull him close by his belt loops and kiss him again. His chest was like a wall of muscle through his thin t-shirt, and it felt ridiculously good against her bare breasts.
"Come on," she whispered, and he picked her up again and laid her down on the little twin bed. His body covered hers completely, and his eyes were squeezed shut as he set a rhythm they could both work with. She kissed the moles on his jaw, by his nose, and tipped her chin up and let out a moan that made him smirk. She licked the dimple that formed in his cheek and smiled at his growl.
His mouth was on her breast and his fingers were between their joined bodies when she came, and he followed soon after. Sticky and sated and sore, she had no intention of moving, not even for food. Sam seemed to be in the same frame of mind, because he shifted her to lie on top of him and pushed back the hair that fell forward when she leaned down to watch his contented face. "You're my future, Jess," he said. "I love you."
"I don't know what I'd do without you," she said. "I love you, too."
The burgers were fine, even lukewarm, but the shakes couldn't be salvaged, so they cracked open three cherry Cokes and settled down to gorge themselves.
"When's Dean coming home?" Sam asked, his mouth full, and between that and his unmistakable bedhead, Jess had a clear picture of what their sons might look like.
"He's been driving for a couple of days already," his dad said. "Could be any time now." He took a long swallow of his soda, and set the can down carefully, like it was important to put it back exactly on the ring of condensation it had left on the table already. "It sounds like he might have a new lead on an old case for us."
"Oh! Can you tell us about it?" she asked, curious about the scope of their business.
His eyes went from her to Sam and then back again. "No, I can't. Confidentiality issues. Fact, I think it might be best for Dean to sit this one out too; I want to finish this one on my own."
That didn't seem fair to her, that Dean wouldn't get to see the case to its conclusion if he'd been off researching it for the past week, but Sam didn't protest, so she sat tight and reached for another onion ring.
They ate until they were ready to pop, and when she stood up to clear the plates, Sam's dad stopped her with a firm hand on her wrist. "I'm glad Sammy has you," he said, and she laughed to see Sam's jaw drop. His dad smiled too at the sight. "You're good for him," he said.
He stood, and pushed her shoulder, gently. "Sit. I'll take care of this."
She swooped down to peck Sam on the lips and then sat on his lap. "I've got the best seat in the house," she murmured into his neck, and his dad laid a gentle hand on each of their heads before turning away to clear the table.
"Dean!" Sam said as his brother unfolded himself out of the driver's seat of the black Chevy.
"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, and man, he looked exhausted. Sam evidently saw it too, because he reached out and pulled him into a long hug like Dean wouldn't be able to stay standing without his support. "You sticking around?" he asked quietly, the words muffled against Sam's shoulder.
"We've gotta get to Jess's parents' place in the next couple of days," Sam said, sounding apologetic. "Her dad's birthday is on Friday."
Dean disentangled himself from his brother, saying, "Hey, Jess," like he'd just remembered her existence, even though she and Sam had been standing on the porch together, waiting for his return. Poor guy - he looked really out of it. She went to the kitchen and poured him a glass of iced tea from the pitcher that was in the fridge, the one that looked just like the pitcher that her mom used to keep for orange juice.
The way Dean smiled tiredly at her when she handed him the glass made her, for some dumb reason, want to cry. He was going to make as good a brother-in-law as he had a big brother. Dean drained the glass and then went inside in search of his father. "We should start packing up," she reminded Sam, and they ambled toward the house, following the tired line of Dean's shoulders, hand in hand and bumping hips as they went.