Fiction Title: Racing Towards Destiny
Chapter Title: Escaping Winter's Hold
Author: Restive Nature
Disclaimer: Neither show represented in this fiction belongs to me. Dark Angel is the product of Cameron/Eglee and Fox, whereas Supernatural is the product of Kripke and The CW. No profits are made from this fiction and it is intended for private enjoyment only.
Story Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Genre: Crossover
Type: Romance, Angst
Pairing: Sam/ Max
Summary: One dream set her on a path of destiny.
Spoilers/ Timeline: This story would begin in Chapter 17- Coming Of Age
Feedback: Always welcome!
Distribution: Ask first, please
A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as WiC, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what might have happened.
Chapter Five
Escaping Winter’s Hold
A horn honking gave them a split second of warning, but it wasn’t enough as a passing car blew through a small drift of snow across the highway. The speed with which it passed blew the granules through the air and like they were magnetized, the mini-gale centered around Max and Sam. The pair broke apart, each with a startled gasp. And then Max shrieked and jumped to her feet, her entire body shimmying.
“It went down my back!” she gasped . Sam leapt up as well, swiping the snow from the back of his neck and moving forward to help Max. While she tried unsuccessfully to rid the snow from where it had slid down the gap of her clothing, Sam brushed it off her hair and arms. After a moment, she paused, looked up at him and began to giggle. Sam’s lips quirked as he waited to see what was so funny, but she only reached up and brushed the flakes that had remained on his own head even after his sudden movements.
He chuckled as well, at how ridiculous they must look, but it ended as Sam noticed her shiver. He caught one hand and jerked his head towards the bike.
“Why don’t we go find some place to warm up?”
“That sounds good,” Max sighed longingly. Pausing only long enough to pick up their hastily discarded helmets, they headed back to the bike. Sam handed over the key before climbing on behind Max once more. Placing his hands at her waist, he smiled when she tugged them further forward, wrapping them securely around her middle.
“It’ll help if we share body heat,” she explained, throwing a smiling glance over her shoulder at him.
“Yes ma’am,” he replied cheekily, scooting forward to close any gaps present. Max started up the bike, checked the traffic and pulled a U-turn to head back into the town that they had so recently passed through. Sam kept his eyes open for a café or something. Both he and Max were shivering violently and it dawned on him that what they really needed to do was get out of their wet clothes. Suddenly, he spotted a place that seemed ideal. He pulled one hand loose, tapping Max’s arm and when she turned her head slightly, pointed and she obligingly turned off the road. She pulled into a parking lot and shut off the bike.
“A motel?” she asked, her teeth chattering.
“Yeah,” Sam replied huskily, then cleared his throat. “Well, it’s private, we can get out of these wet clothes, take hot showers… and they usually have those complimentary coffee packs.”
“Well when you put it that way, lead the way,” Max nodded. Sam held the main door open for her and they both approached the counter. No one was present, so Sam rang the small bell situated on the counter top. A middle aged woman, still in her morning wrapper, emerged from a small back room, leaving the door ajar. From there, they could hear the muted sounds of a national morning talk show.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked, pulling her robe snugly around her thick middle, making sure that the belt was pulled tight.
“Yeah, hi,” Sam began, attempting his most appealing look. “I was wondering if there was any way we could get a room for a few hours?” The woman glanced back and forth between them suspiciously. “See, my sister and I were passing through, riding her motorcycle and just outside of town, we slid on some ice, went right through a snowdrift.” The suspicion began to fade to sympathy. “Luckily, she wasn’t going very fast.”
“Oh, you weren’t hurt, were you?” the woman clarified. “I’ve always thought the city should have chip-sealed that road before winter came on. We’ve had more accidents out there this winter than in the last decade combined.”
“No, we’re not hurt ma’am,” Max assured her and then frowned. “Well, except for my pride. I just marred my perfect driving record.”
The woman smiled softly at that. “Well, we don’t really rent rooms by the hour.”
“Oh we can pay for the whole time,” Sam assured her, reaching for his wallet. The woman immediately reached for a check-in slip.
“I’ll tell you what,” she decided, “if you only need it for a few hours and can be out by check out time, eleven o’clock, I can give it to you for half price.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Sam sighed, handing her his credit card. They hurriedly went through the motions and the woman kindly gave them the room nearest the office, even though the buildings weren’t adjoined.
Max and Sam hurried over to it. Both were shivering violently nonetheless from going from the warmth of the office back out to the freezing cold. Sam’s hands were shaking as he opened the door. They darted inside and once there, both shucked their coats and footwear. And then stilled as a sudden awkwardness fell between them.
“Um, you go ahead,” Sam offered gallantly. “I’ll uh…” He spied the radiator and hurried over to it, turning the dial up as far as it would go.
“Don’t be silly Sam,” Max chided, though he could definitely hear nervous undertones. “You’re just as cold and wet as I am.” She turned and strode into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind her and he could hear her fiddling with the fixtures and then the shower came on.
“Max we-!” Sam protested, even though he felt like his bones were beginning to ache. The radiator had started humming, but he knew it wouldn’t heat up the room as fast as he would like, or need.
“Sam would you just get in here!” Max called impatiently. “We can just… I don’t know… keep our underwear on. I mean, it’s not like we haven’t each seen that much when we’ve gone swimming and stuff.”
That was true, Sam conceded silently. It was very true. And with that, he capitulated, stripping the clammy t-shirt from his body as he moved towards the bathroom. As he entered the tiny room, he saw that Max had done the same and was now struggling with her sodden, skintight jeans. His mouth went dry as the material finally gave way with a little wiggle of her hips. The white cotton material of her underwear was also wet in places and typically see through, giving Sam glimpses of shadowy indentations of what lay beneath the surface.
Pausing only to peel off her dry socks, Max tossed them aside and climbed into the tub. He heard her hiss as he worked his own, not so tight jeans off.
“You okay?” he called.
“Yeah, it wasn’t hot enough yet. It’s better now.”
Sam laid his jeans across the sink counter and pushed off his socks and quickly padded over to the tub. He pulled back the shower curtain to the rear of the bathtub and hesitantly climbed in. Max was standing completely under the spray, her arms wrapped around herself, still shivering slightly. Opening her eyes, she smiled again shyly. Sam shivered, feeling the mist of the spray reflected off her body. Noting this, Max reached out one hand for him. The action revealed even more of what he’d seen before and when she noticed where his gaze was wandering, she flushed and chuckled ruefully.
“And now you know why I didn’t buy that white bathing suit.”
“Um, yeah,” Sam blinked rapidly. As he did so, Max caught his hand and pulled him forward, shifting to the side so that she could get him under the spray. Sam groaned when he felt the sting of the heated spray. But almost immediately, he noticed that Max was back to shivering. He turned so that his back was facing the tiled wall and pulled Max to him. That way they were both getting at least some of the heat.
“Better?” he asked. She snuggled in closer in response, wrapping her arms about his waist, turning her head away form the spray, to rest her cheek on his chest. Though his whole body reacted to her closeness, Sam chose not to pursue it, instead he just reveled in his contentment, stroking his thumbs along her shoulder and upper back. Soon enough though, he realized that the far side of their bodies, away form the spray, was still pretty chilly. He pulled at her left side.
“Here, turn,” he instructed. She obliged and together they turned to warm the other side of their bodies. But instead of reverting to her earlier position, she leaned her head and shoulders back so that she could look up at him. There was no mistaking the emotion flitting through her eyes and when she tilted her chin up, his was already descending. There was no clash, but a gentle meeting, soft and slow exploration until Max shifted a little, her hip rubbing deliberately, or not, Sam wasn’t sure, at his erection. He gasped at the exquisite friction of the wet fabric on his skin. He inhaled deeply, unable to rein in his bodies instinctive reaction, to feel that pleasure again. He felt and heard the low moan that ran through Max as she repeated the movement. He opened his eyes to see her eyelids fluttering, her lips parted and he framed her face with his hands, kissing her once more. With more than a little regret, he pulled away from her, but was buoyed by the confused pout that came instantly to her.
“We should get out,” he whispered. “The water’s not so warm anymore.”
“Okay,” she nodded. “Um…”
“I’ll get the towels,” Sam decided. “That way we can get out of our… um…”
“Wet things?” Max finished for him with a smirk. He nodded once and smiled.
Quickly, and again regretfully, he climbed out, locating the towels on the shelving unit over the toilet. Glancing at the shower curtain, he quickly shed his boxers and wrapped a large towel around his waist, anchoring it as securely as possible. As he was reaching for more towels, he heard a wet slap and grinned, realizing that Max was shedding clothes as well. He hung two towels over the towel bar and then took a smaller one to apply to his hair.
“Max, your towels are hanging up on the bar,” he called.
“Okay,” she responded at once. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Sam left the bathroom, shutting the door securely behind him, giving her privacy. Noting that the room was much warmer than when they’d first entered, Sam bent over to retrieve his shirt. He carried it over to the radiator, glad that it didn’t seem as wet as he’d originally thought it had been. Wondering how long they’d been in the shower, he glanced at the digital clock nestled on the nightstand. They still had a few hours before check out time. He laid out his shirt, close to the radiator and then recalled that he’d left his most definitely wet jeans in the bathroom. He’d just have to get them after Max had emerged. Glancing around the fairly Spartan room, he found, as he’d promised Max, a small four cup coffee percolator and coffee basket lined with essentials. Brightening at the prospect of a hot drink, he began preparing it, glad when he heard the shower shut off. But still, the coffee was brewed and Sam had taken a seat on the nearest bed, the Styrofoam cup held between both hands before Max emerged. In her hands was a bundle of clothes.
“I wrung everything out,” she announced as she approached the radiator. She spread out the clothes, including Sam’s jeans.
“I made coffee,” he told her. He was surprised to see that she hadn’t wrapped her hair in a towel, even though it appeared fairly tousled.
“Thanks, but I’m not really thirsty right now,” she murmured, straightening out a pant leg. She then padded across the carpet to take a seat next to him. Up close, he could see the flush of heat the hot shower had imparted to her body, giving her face and throat and chest a soft, rosy glow, accenting her body and putting him in mind of a ripe peach. He took a nervous sip of coffee and flashed her a small, tight grin, trying to keep his body from reacting to her nearness as he had before.
“Sam,” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
He heard her slowly pull in a deep breath and felt her exhalation whisper across his bare arm. Reaching forth, she plucked the Styrofoam cup from his hands and stretching further, placed it back on the counter near the percolator. Sitting back, she shifted around to face him, her knees up on the bed, though her ankles were primly crossed. Still, the towel gaped at mid-thigh and Sam determinedly fixed his gaze at the abstract design of the comforter on which they sat.
“Sam,” her voice was soft and trembling. “I… I want you. And I think… I hope, that you want me too?”
*****
“Wake up!” John grunted, shaking his son’s shoulder again. Damn it! The boy was worse than a hibernating bear. “Hey! Don’t make me get a bucket of ice water!”
That finally penetrated and Dean’s eyes finally opened. He immediately squinted against the morning light, his father an indistinct figure emblazoned by a nimbus of lighting around his body.
“Wazit?” Dean mumbled sleepily.
“Max and Sam are missing.” That announcement brought the young man scrambling to complete awareness, though something was tickling at the back of his mind.
“What? What time is it?”
“It’s after nine,” Bobby informed him. Dean began to scramble out of his sleeping bag.
“Are you sure they’re gone?” he asked, glancing at Sam’s abandoned sleeping bag.
“Sam’s not here, Max’s room is empty and they’re nowhere around. And Max’s bike is gone,” John recited harshly. The last words were the catalyst that Dean’s brain needed and he stilled his panicked frenzy to locate his wayward siblings.
“Huh,” he grunted. “Guess it wasn't a dream.”
“What wasn’t?” John demanded.
“Oh, Sam woke me up this morning,” Dean explained, now reaching for his duffel bag. “Said he and Max were going for a ride.”
“Well when was that?” John snorted, even more exasperated. Dean shrugged.
“'Bout six or seven.”
“Well what on earth are they gallivanting around on that bike in the middle of winter for?” John sighed. Again, Dean shrugged. He glanced up at Bobby, still leaning casually in the entryway to the living room.
“Coffee on Bobby?” he asked of their friend.
“Course it is,” Bobby snorted. Dean quickly dressed, assuring his father, “don’t worry about it Dad. They’re just working some stuff out.”
“What stuff?” John asked suspiciously, following Dean into the kitchen where his son retrieved a mug and poured himself a generous measure of coffee.
“Well in case it's slipped your notice,” Dean drawled, seating himself at the table, “Max has been avoiding Sam for the last few weeks.” A short spurt of silence followed that pronouncement.
“You know,” Bobby sighed, “now that you mention it, I guess I did notice that. Just thought she was leavin’ him alone to let him study.”
“Well what’s the problem?” John asked, now calmed somewhat as to the problem. Dean shrugged one shoulder.
“Don’t know. Sam tried to talk to her last night, but of course, she wasn’t feeling well. So he was gonna try again this morning. Guess they decided to go find someplace more private. Probably didn’t want you old gossips sticking your noses in.” As Dean sat smugly listening to Bobby and John protest his slur, he knew he wouldn’t bother telling them that he hadn’t noticed the problem either until it had been pointed out to him.
“… just hope they don’t kill each other,” John was saying.
“Oh don’t worry Dad,” Dean chuckled. “If I know Sam, they’re probably holed up somewhere private, drinking frou-frou coffees, getting all touchy-feely with each other.”
John smiled and nodded. Yeah, Dean was probably right. Worry fell away as Bobby crossed to the refrigerator, intent now on breakfast.
RTD06- Burning It Up
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