Title: What If... Racing Towards Destiny
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.
Rating: PG-13- NC-17
Genre: Crossover
Type: Romance
Pairing: Max Gueverra/ Sam Winchester
Summary: What if... Max had been having a different dream?
Spoilers/ Time line: This starts when Max is thirteen and going into heat for the very first time.
Feedback: Always welcome!
Distribution: Ask first please.
A/N: This story, while being in the same universe as When It Changes, does not actually occur within that storyline. This fiction is just an off-shoot of what might have happened.
Chapter Nineteen
That Plan Out The Window
Max rolled over, her hand searching across the sheets, but encountered nothing. She opened her eyes, blinking against the morning sunlight that filtered into the bedroom. Blinking as well against the gritty feeling that encompassed her eyes. She moistened her dry lips, grimacing at the taste in her mouth. She felt as though her head was stuffed full of cotton. "Sam?" she called as she read the clock on the nightstand. He was probably getting ready for class. And she knew that she should at this point in the day, be getting ready for her shift at work. Max heard movement elsewhere in the house and quickly enough, Sam appeared in the doorway of the bedroom.
"Hey," he greeted her softly as he padded over on bare feet to her side of the bed. "How're you doing?"
"I'll live," she murmured as she started to push the covers back. But Sam caught them and with a quick motion, pulled them from her hand and back up over her form.
"No, just stay put," he instructed gently.
"Sam," Max protested immediately. "I have to get ready for work."
Sam shook his head. "I already called Mr. Hanover and told him that you had an allergic reaction to some perfume. He's given you the next few days off to deal with it."
"Oh, okay," Max replied slowly, sighing. "But what about you? Shouldn't you be heading to school?" Sam shook his head again.
"I've got it covered," he informed her. "The only thing I'm doing today is staying put and pampering you."
Max let a small grin touch her lips for a moment before protesting, "I don't need to be pampered Sam."
He eyed her for a moment, knowing that if he pushed, she'd dig her heels in even more. He could always, he knew, use his fear about the night before to guilt her into staying in bed, but that was a cheap ploy, unfair. And a possible last resort. "I'd like to pamper you just a little. How does some breakfast in bed sound?" he offered. "And then you can see how you feel." Max thought it over for a moment and then nodded.
"Just nothing too heavy, please."
"Scrambled eggs and toast okay?" Sam asked solicitously.
"Sounds good."
"Okay," he murmured, leaning over to drop a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He stood gingerly, trying not to shake the bed. He knew that he was treating her as if she were a fragile piece of glass, about to shatter, but honestly, he had no idea what the after effects of a seizure of that magnitude would be. He was sure Max was hesitant about it as well.
"Sam?" she called to his retreating back and as Sam turned, Max was startled by her body convulsing in a sudden sneezing attack. Sam waited and Max's face tensed as she held up one finger and then sneezed again. She rubbed at her nose and waited to see if anymore were forthcoming. "Do we have any tissue?" she sighed, sniffling. Sam grinned and nodded, her plaintive resignation was endearing.
"I'll grab some and be right back," he confirmed, knowing that they hadn't yet replaced the box they normally kept on Max's dresser. As promised, it didn't take him long to slip into the bathroom and retrieve the box from the counter and return to her with it. His next step was to get breakfast started and run some juice back to her, along with another dosing of her tryptophan.
Once the food was ready, Sam brought two plates back to the bedroom, giving in to the protective urge to be near her so that she wouldn't want for anything. Max, expecting this, scooted upwards in the bed, so that she could eat, seated upright. But just as Sam was about to hand her the plate, she fired off several more sneezes in rapid succession. She dabbed at her nose with another tissue and Sam noticed that there were already several crumpled tissues littering the nightstand.
"I think I caught a cold," Max grumbled and Sam hid his smile at her stating of the obvious.
"I'm sorry," he simply murmured. He handed her the plate as she murmured her thanks. "All the more reason to keep up your energy," he added as he settled himself next to her. He waited until she'd started before he dug into his own portion. He was pleased to see that she did make an effort, even though it was apparent that along with the sneezing, her throat was obviously sore. He refilled her juice glass several times and offered to make tea, but Max declined, stating that he should relax too. He had gotten just as little sleep as she had the evening before. After their breakfast was finished, as much as Max could manage, Sam returned the plates to the kitchen and came back to the bedroom to find Max climbing out of bed.
"So I was wondering if you'd like me to run you a nice hot bath," he offered, checking the urge to help her.
"That sounds wonderful," Max sighed and sneezed again. "I hate being sick."
"I know," Sam sympathized as she picked up her robe and carefully sniffed at it. He smiled, understanding her hesitancy. "Thank goodness it doesn't happen that often."
"I think I can count how many times I've had a cold in my life, on one hand and still have fingers left over," Max frowned as she tied her robe shut.
"Even when you were little?" Sam asked, amused. Max shook her head.
"Even then," she confirmed. "I just never seemed to get sick like that." She seemed lost in thought her face troubled. Before Sam could ask though, she seemed to shake herself out of her reverie. "Guess I'm just lucky that way."
"I don't know," Sam sighed. "If the choices were a childhood full of colds and flus, or those seizures..." Max wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed him tightly.
"I know," she murmured. "But there's nothing we can do to change it."
"Not yet anyway," Sam tried to push the worry and the fear to the back of his mind. "There's medical breakthroughs all the time."
"And more people working on genetic research and advances all the time," Max included, sounding awed and dreadful at the same time.
"Well, we can hope, right?" Sam offered her a smile. "But in the meantime, let's get you that bath."
*****
Max's cold continued to escalate through the day. By late afternoon, she was exhausted again and fell asleep on the couch. Sam debated over the choice of letting her sleep there or moving her and finally decided to just leave her be. She seemed comfortable enough and he didn't want to wake her if he could avoid it. She seemed to get just as little sleep as she ever did and he wondered if perhaps her sleeplessness on a lot of nights in some way contributed to her other seizures. Making another mental note to look into that, he retrieved the notes that his friends had copied for him from that days classes and started going over them. It was a quiet evening.
The next morning, when they woke, Sam was ready to continue with the pampering. But Max was insistent that he not miss any more classes because of her. So Sam reluctantly attended school, distracted and fretting over her health. Most of his friends and acquaintances teased him over his distraction, but Alli resolutely quieted them. She knew how bad off Max had been and how scared both Sam and Max had been. She said nothing of Max's condition, since Sam had explained to her that Max didn't tell people because she didn't want them to treat her any differently. She respected that privacy.
Sam did however, take Alli up on her idea to bring Max some lunch from the diner. Not sure what her appetite would be like, he ordered several things to go from their usual hangout, including a generous portion of their chicken noodle soup. He arrived home just before noon and found Max in pretty much the same position she'd been in when he'd left that morning. The only obvious changes were the mountain of used tissues littered over the coffee table, her tea cup was empty and she'd pushed the afghan to one end of the couch.
Max looked towards the door when he entered and her face brightened. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice thick and stuffy.
"Bringing lunch to my favorite lady," Sam smiled, holding up the bags as he nudged the front door shut with his shoulder.
"You're an angel," she moaned as she reached for another tissue. She blew her nose and pulled her legs up so that Sam could sit. He perched on the edge of the cushion and began pulling items out of the bags.
"I wasn't sure what you'd want," he began, "so there's either a turkey sandwich or a cheeseburger. The soup's definitely for you and if you're a good girl," he drawled as he removed the last small container, "some cherry pie." Max grinned and reached for the pie, but Sam laughed and slid it out of the way. "You must be feeling better," he decided.
"A little, yeah," Max agreed. "It's mostly a runny nose. Actually, that soup sounds really good right now." He pushed the carton towards her before standing.
"I'll get you a spoon. Did you want anything else? More tea?" he asked solicitously. Max glanced at the sandwiches and shook her head. "Okay, I'll put this in the fridge for later, okay?" Max gave a small nod as he reached for the turkey sandwich and moved off to the kitchen. He returned quickly and sat beside her once more, offering her the soup spoon he'd retrieved. She took the utensil with a murmured thanks and turned to removing the lid of the container. "That's all I get?" Sam pouted. Max glanced up at him, startled and then she chuckled.
"What were you expecting?"
"A kiss at least," Sam wiggled his eyebrows at her. Max quirked one eyebrow back at him and sniffled.
"Well, I would sweetie, but trust me, you really don't want this crud."
Sam chuckled. "Max, we live together, sleep together... odds are, I've already caught it." Max rolled her eyes and set her soup back on the coffee table.
"Well, when you put it like that..." she took a huge sniff to clear her nasal passages and then offered her face up to him. Sam laughed at her antics, relieved that she was acting more like her usual self than she had been in the past few days.
"I think maybe I'll reconsider," he chuckled.
"Oh no!" Max protested, inching closer to him. "You wanted a kiss, you're getting a kiss. A nice, big sloppy one!" Sam reached to fend her off and fell back away from her, but she followed after him, climbing over his legs until she was straddling his waist. "Pucker up buddy," she warned, but he was laughing too hard. Max chased his face, finally managing to pin down his cheek.
"Urgh!" Sam groaned as he felt the moisture coating his cheek. "That is so disgusting!"
"Don't worry," Max grinned as she sat back to survey her handiwork. "It's just saliva." She reached for several more tissues, handing some to Sam and then blew her nose again.
"Like that's so much better," he complained gently as he wiped his face clear of offending material. Max just smiled down at him and slowly lowered her face to his. Guardedly, Sam met her, as her lips brushed delicately against his. Teasing and hilarity gave way to tenderness as they continued to kiss. Sam pushed his hands through the thick mass of her hair, pushing it back over her shoulders and then ran his fingers lightly down her back and over the curve of her hips. She moved restlessly against him and he felt the lower portion of his anatomy happily responding. Moving one hand to grope on the coffee table, he found the remote for the television and clicked it off. And the moment he did so, Max broke off their kiss.
"Hey!" she protested. "I was going to watch the news," she pouted as she sat up. Sam gazed disbelievingly at her.
"Well, if that's more important..."
"No, no, I was just saying," Max hurried to say. "We don't have to watch t.v."
"Well, if you're sure," Sam put on a slightly hurt tone.
"I'm sure," Max whispered, smiling at him tenderly. "There's nothing more important to me than you Sam."
"Max, I... I..." Sam turned his face away from her as quickly as possible and then sneezed. His head snapped back to face her, looking startled. "Now see what you did?" he accused.
"Me?" Max giggled. "Hey, you're the one that jinxed yourself there buddy!"
"Oh... right," Sam frowned. "I guess I did, at that."
"But look on the bright side," Max chirped. "Now we can be all sick and disgusting together."
"Well, seeing how I'll take you any way that I can get you, I can live with that." Sam arched against her and with a delighted laugh, she quickly lowered herself to his body once more. Max molded her body along his, desire building quickly between them as she lightly ground herself against his erection. "God, Max," Sam half-groaned before his tongue darted out to taste her skin, just along her throat, under her ear. Max moaned and worked her fingers under his shirt, annoyed by the fact that it was still tucked in at the back. Sam had an easier time of it as he loosened the tie on her robe and was able to run his fingers under the long T-shirt that she'd slept in. His thumbs brushed against the swell of her breasts and Max gasped as she ground against him again.
They were distracted by a sudden, harsh knock on their front door. "Who on earth...?" Max whispered to Sam, who grinned.
"Ignore them," he whispered right back, pushing his hips up against her again. Max smirked and lowered herself to him again, happy to ignore their unknown visitor. But after the next knock, Sam could only focus on that as it was accompanied by,
"Max? Are you here? It is I, Monique."
He sat up so rapidly that he dislodged Max and as he rose to his feet, Max whispered fearfully, "Sam?" Never before had she seen such anger blazing in his eyes. Even all the fearsome creatures that they had hunted had never seen that look. If anything, he'd pitied those creatures, but there was no pity left for this person who'd almost killed the woman he loved. He strode over to the door, anger fueling each step and movement as he yanked the door open.
"What the hell do you want?" he snarled. Monique, preparing to knock again, was startled and she jerked back, almost losing her balance.
"Oh, Sam! I didn't-!"
"Didn't what?" he growled. "Expect me to be here? I live here too, remember? What I want to know is what the fuck you came here for? Because after the stunt you pulled the other day, we ought to have you arrested, at the very least."
"But what happened wasn't intentional," the woman protested. "At least not on my part."
"Right!" Sam snorted, his eyes still glittering dangerously. "Like we're really going to believe that. With your track record?"
"It is true," Monique insisted as she reached into a small store bag, stamped with the department store logo of where she worked. She withdrew a folded sheet of paper and held it out to him. "All I can ask is that you read this. It will tell you. And if that is not enough, please, call my supervisor. The number is listed there and in the telephone book. Just ask for the manager and tell him it is about the perfume incident." She sounded desperate to Sam, but if what she said was true, and she had back-up to prove her assertions... Striving to calm himself down a little, Sam reached for the paper, actually a heavy parchment. Unfolding it, he glanced over the sheet. There was a business letterhead for Laliberte Cosmetics. He skim-read the letter, which was basically a letter to their customers, explaining that an error had been made at the independent chemist's which was to produce their new line of fragrances. The problem had been corrected and anyone suffering from undue side effects was asked to call the companies 800 number.
Sam was of two minds about it. It seemed an unlikely mistake for someone to make. But as he was mulling it over, Max appeared at his side. "What's going on?" she asked, looking from Sam to Monique, who dropped her eyes to the ground. Sam, watching the other woman, in case she tried something else, held the letter up for Max. She quickly read through it, as fast as Sam had and her eyes flicked back to the other woman. "I think you'd better come in Monique," she decided and stepped back. Sam frowned down at her, but she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You'll have to excuse the mess," Max offered as she led Monique to the living room. "I've been sick the past few days."
"Oh goodness," Monique gasped loudly. "Not from the...?"
"No, just a cold," Max assured her. She resumed her seat on the couch and gestured for Monique to sit. The woman took a perch on the sofa opposite Max.
"I see that I caught you at lunch. I'm sorry, but it was deliberate," Monique confessed. "I do not know your class schedule, or where you work."
"Mm," Max acknowledged, leaning forward as Sam took a seat on the arm of the couch, right beside her. "Well, that's not really important. You're here now. But the thing is," Max tapped the letter in her hand, "I'm not quite sure what to believe."
"I understand," Monique nodded. "We weren't sure of anything until this morning, either. You see, that bottle was the first one we opened. We had just received our advance test copies of it. My manager was quite upset, thinking that someone had tampered with the bottle. But when Charlotte, the other girl working the perfume counter, opened another bottle, it was the same. They all were. We called the company, and were given a little bit of a run about. Finally we were told to ship the product back and they would figure out what had happened. We got that letter this morning."
"So do they know what happened?" Sam asked slowly, anger still throbbing through him. Monique nodded.
"It is though, how do you say? Off the record?" Both Sam and Max nodded. "They are not confirming or denying anything, because of pending police investigation. But the rumor we heard, was that a former, disgruntled employee found work at the chemist company that Laliberte used. Unfortunately, he was a computer person and not a chemist. He had no idea what he was making when he changed the formula. He just wanted to make Laliberte a laughingstock since this is their first foray into fragrances."
"So that's why there's a police investigation?" Sam asked and Monique sighed.
"Well, that would have been bad enough, by itself. Unfortunately and this is unconfirmed as well, at least to us..." Both Sam and Max nodded again, encouraging her to continue. "In most cases," Monique explained, "people simply complained of a headache from the smell. But one woman apparently suffered an allergic reaction and stopped breathing."
"That's horrible!" Max gasped and Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. Monique nodded her agreement.
"I understand that she was taken to a hospital immediately and saved, but it was a very close thing. I hope you did not suffer-!"
"No!" Max protested immediately. "I just had a horrible headache." Her eyes flickered up to Sam's, asking him silently not to contradict her and he smiled tersely in understanding. If this was all true, then it was just a horrible thing to have happened. There was no way that they could have known the perfume would affect her adversely like that. And Max just wanted to keep her private life, exactly that.
"And now a cold," Monique smiled sympathetically.
"Well, yes," Max chuckled. "But I doubt the two are related."
"Well, colds have been going around," Monique sighed in resignation. "The girl I was filling in for recently has one."
"Just a fact of life," Max shrugged.
"And now, the other reason I came," Monique continued. "Aside from offering my sincerest apologies." Max smiled in acknowledgment and the other woman continued. "It was to deliver this." She nudged the bag she'd brought and had set on the coffee table, towards Max.
"What is it?" Max asked guardedly.
"Officially?" Monique smiled. "It is a gesture of goodwill from both companies, to anyone sprayed by the contaminated perfume.
"And unofficially?" Sam asked archly.
"Unofficially, it is a bribe," Monique chuckled in her rich voice. "You see, they do not wish to be sued, or badmouthed, or both. They spent some time and thought on this, you see. First we have," she reached into the bag and withdrew a small sample bottle, "the perfume, as it should smell. It's very lovely, but I would not blame you if you did not want it."
"Max's nose is pretty sensitive," Sam warned.
"And stuffed up at the moment," Max added wryly. Monique chuckled and bowed her head.
"And from Laliberte, a gift certificate for their cosmetics line." She handed that to Max, whose eyes widened slightly at the amount.
"That's more than I've spent on make-up in the last three years!"
"Yes, well, when you are naturally beautiful," Monique charmed. She reached into the bag again. "There is also a matching certificate from the store. They hope that people would use them at the cosmetic counter, but they are good for anywhere in the store. And lastly, there is this," she pulled out one last, small box and held it out to Max. Max handed the letter she still held to Sam and then took the box. Monique leaned back in her chair and watched her passively. Max carefully opened the box and found a very distinctive pin inside.
"Oh! Aren't these...?"
"The pins for supporters of breast cancer research?" Monique finished for her. "Yes. If you look at the gift certificates, you'll see that they were stamped at the bottom left-hand corner. Each certificate redeemed will be recorded and matching donations will be made to the cancer research institute."
"Genius," Sam groaned admiringly and both women looked at him. "Sorry, but they'll really come off looking like the good guys in all this."
Monique nodded. "Really, I'm sure it's not their fault, although one wonders why that former employee was so upset at the company."
"Could be plenty of reasons for that," Sam snorted. "I'm just wondering how it was that no one noticed that horrible stench before the product was shipped."
"No one said that chemists were geniuses in every aspect of life honey," Max teased, patting Sam's knee. "Just at chemistry."
"Actually," Monique chuckled, "my manager wondered the same thing. And he discovered that the people bottling the perfume noticed that it had a fairly distinct odor. But they didn't find it overly unpleasant. Apparently, it fermented during transportation."
Max made a face. "I won't have to worry about this bottle, will I?"
Monique tried to fight a grin. "No, but I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to check before each time you apply it. Just to make sure, of course."
"Of course," Max grinned back. "Monique? Would you care for some tea?"
"That would be lovely. Thank you."
"I'll get it," Sam offered and stood. As he headed for the kitchen, he heard Max ask how Monique's aunt was doing. He filled the kettle and turned the stove on. Picking up the company letter he'd momentarily set down to accomplish those tasks, he slipped into the bedroom. He grabbed his cell phone and dialed information. A cool feminine voice came on the line and soon enough, he found himself connected to the head offices of Laliberte Cosmetics in Seattle, Washington. As he listened to the automated recording, he found that an extension had obviously been set-up to deal with the companies near catastrophe. He followed the instructions given and with the basis of Max just having a headache and nothing more, was told to contact the department store where the incident had taken place. He would receive immediate attention and service. If he cared to talk to a company representative in person, he could remain on the line.
Sam shut the phone off. He supposed that was good enough for him. The number that he'd been given, matched the one listed in the letter. Monique hadn't just tried to entirely pull a fast one. But still, the way Max had described it, Monique had just flat out doused her, right in the face. Even not knowing that the perfume was contaminated, it was still an incredibly rude thing to do. And apparently Max had been thinking along the same lines, because as Sam came out of the bedroom, he heard Monique explaining herself. But to his surprise, they were laughing about it.
"... and since I normally work in women's clothing, I had no idea how complicated just spraying a little perfume bottle could be. So I'd ask and people would go out of their way to avoid me. And Charlotte told me that spray girls have to fill a quota each day."
"A quota?" Max laughed, disbelievingly.
"Yes, I know!" Monique exclaimed. "So, then I thought I'd get into trouble for not making the quota. Charlotte told me to just spray the perfume. So, I'm spraying wherever I can and people by now are flat out running away from me and Mr. Hudson saw this. Well, he got upset and told me to stop wasting the perfume. I was to offer and no matter whether they accepted or not, to give one small squirt either on the wrist or in the air. And of course, the whole time, Charlotte is sitting there, smiling like a Cheshire cat, deliberately having given me the wrong instructions. And then, Mr. Hudson handed me a bottle of L'Amour and repeated everything he'd just told me! As if I were a three year old child! You and Jessica were the first people I ran into and I didn't even realize it was you until after."
"Oh, I bet you got into so much trouble,' Max laughed weakly. The kettle was boiling by then and Sam turned off the stove and then turned to retrieve some mugs from the cupboard. Despite his anger, he was intrigued in the gossiping outlay of events.
"Yes," Monique drawled. "Well, Charlotte certainly tried to make it seem that way. But at that point, Mr. Hudson was more concerned about what had happened to the perfume. You left immediately, or I would have been able to apologize right then and there."
"Well, you have now and I accept," Max decided, her voice light. "Have they moved you back to clothing?" she asked kindly.
"Alas no," Monique sighed and then chuckled. "You see, I suppose Charlotte was trying to make herself look better, or something along that line. Anyhow, while Mr. Hudson was ranting about the perfume, she got another bottle out. She told me to 'watch and learn, amateur' and then promptly sprayed herself with that same horrible gunk!" Both women laughed and Sam smiled too. Yeah, karma could teach very interesting lessons. He loaded up a tray with the items needed. He brought it into the living room and set it on the coffee table before taking a proper seat beside Max and going about the task of pouring for everyone.
"Thank you," Monique accepted the cup he offered and took a brief sip. "So, my story checked out Sam?" she asked so nonchalantly that Sam didn't realize for a moment what she'd asked of him. His startled glance leapt between the two and he realized that they were both waiting for an answer.
"Well, uh I..."
Monique chuckled. "I do not blame you," she offered, crossing one slime leg over the other. "Not after my past behavior." Sam nodded. "So, now that that is taken care of...?" she waited for confirmation, which Sam gave. "Then I would ask a favor of you."
"Oh really?" Max grinned and leaned forward. She had an idea of what the woman needed. "And what would that be?"
"Well, to be honest," Monique sighed. "I could use some ideas about how to approach Jessica, since she was affected as well. If I were to just show up at her home, I'm sure she wouldn't hesitate to, how do they say? Pound me into the ground?"
Sam threw his head back and laughed. "You're right," he confirmed. "She would."
"Don't worry," Max spoke, leaning back with her mug of tea cradled between her hands. "I'll give her a call."
*****
Sam juggled the books in his arms as he tried to insert his key into the lock of the front door. But as he fumbled with the numerous items he was trying to hold onto, the door swung open for him. Max smiled cheerfully up at him as she stepped back.
"Hey sweetheart," she murmured.
"Max?" Sam mumbled as he stepped inside the hallway. She held her hands out to take his books. He handed then over and slung his backpack to the floor. "I thought you had to work tonight?"
"I switched with Rita," she explained as she pushed open the door to the study. "I thought we could have dinner, spend a little time together, that sort of stuff." He watched as she disappeared into the room, although watched wasn't quite the proper term. Ogled was more like it. He pulled his coat off and hung it up in the closet. Honestly, Max was always gorgeous, but tonight she looked downright sexy. Maybe it was because she was wearing her hair up, with little wisps framing her face. Or maybe it was the sleeveless turtleneck she was wearing, that molded itself to all her curves. Too light to be red, too dark to be pink, Sam couldn't decide what to call it. "Come on," Max instructed as she re-emerged from the study. "Dinner's almost ready. Do you want a glass of wine? We had a few bottles left from the party." She moved off down the hallway and Sam stifled a groan. It wasn't the hair or the shirt. It was the pants. Jeans so tight that she must have painted them on, her hips swaying slowly and seductively... She turned into the kitchen and Sam blinked rapidly. Something in his mind was protesting. Oh... right.
"I'm sorry Max," he called. "I can't." She came back to the hallway immediately, her face puzzled.
"Can't what?"
"Dinner and everything," Sam waved one hand in the general direction of the kitchen and then pulled it back to run nervously through his hair.
"How come?" she asked gently, groaning a little.
"Ringwell moved the test up from Monday to tomorrow. He's got something going on and wanted the weekend to grade the papers, instead of leaving it for his TA."
"Well," Max smirked a little as she approached him. "I don't think you have anything to worry about Sam. You've always been a good student. You'll do fine."
"I'm not worried about the test so much. It's the essay portion that I have to prepare for," he explained. "I mean, he gave us three subjects to choose from, but since we don't know what the question will be, well, I need to cover all my bases and make sure my notes are complete. I'm sorry sweetheart, I thought I'd have all weekend to finish this up. Especially since you were scheduled to work on Saturday."
"It's okay Sam," Max sighed as she gave him a hug. "I guess I was just in a romantic mood tonight. But it can wait."
"Are you sure?" Sam asked, feeling bad about the inadvertent wrecking of her plans.
"I'm sure," she smiled and tilted her face up to look at him. "School comes first."
"Okay," he sighed, half wishing that she'd have pushed to have her own way. There was a very good possibility that he would have given in.
"You go study," she directed, giving him a light nudge towards the spare bedroom. "I'll bring you something to eat in a little bit." She kissed his cheek and headed back to the kitchen. He stared after her, part of his brain scolding him for being so interested in her delectable derrier and the rest of his body not caring. But when she disappeared from sight, he heaved a sigh and turned to pick his bag up off the floor. He forced himself to go into the study, instead of following her, which was surprising to him. Usually he was much better at minimizing distractions when he needed to study. But he was having a hard time pushing Max from the front of his thoughts. But it was also hard to do when, instead of setting his bag on the desk as he normally did, he found the spot blocked. He looked over the rocky little fountain that he and Max had admired a few times, set up on the desk, with a jaunty red bow placed on top. There was a small card dangling from it as well. Reaching out, he read the simple Love You! message in Max's script and his eyebrows furrowed together.
A romantic evening and an unexpected gift. Sam swore softly under his breath and gently banged his closed fist against his forehead. Oh lord, he'd forgotten something. He tried to wrack his brain, but there was nothing. They'd already celebrated Valentine's day, with dinner and a movie. And while that hadn't been the most memorable of dates, the heady combination of chocolate and phenomenal sex had been. But Sam could not think of any other special day in February. Maybe Max was celebrating their first time together, though if she was, she was early. Since that day had been in March. Sam grimaced as he realized that Max was probably wondering about his reaction to this gift. He headed back to the kitchen and the candles on the table seemed to confirm what he'd been thinking. Max was checking something in the oven and Sam could smell beef, which they usually didn't buy a lot of, due to the expense of it. He waited until she was done so that he wouldn't startled her, possibly resulting in bumps or burns.
"Max," he began as soon as she had straightened up. "I'm sorry babe."
She turned and smiled. "Sorry for what?" she asked archly, truly not understanding what he meant, instead of teasing.
"For whatever day it is that I forgot," he admitted meekly, leaning into the archway. She looked puzzled for a moment and then her face cleared and she laughed.
"You didn't forget anything Sam," she informed him, bemused. "Or, if you did, then I did too."
"But what about the dinner? And the fountain?" he asked. "Which is wonderful by the way. Thank you."
"I told you," Max shrugged one shoulder. "I just wanted to have a nice evening together. And I bought that fountain with the gift certificate. For both of us. Okay?"
"Okay," Sam returned, hugely relieved. He pushed off the wall and caught Max around the waist. He dropped a kiss on her nose and grinned. "You are an angel for being so understanding."
"That's sweet," Max murmured as she snuggled into his embrace. "But giving you up for the night is a huge sacrifice, you know?" she teased him. "We'll just have to figure out how you can make it up to me later."
"And that'll be my pleasure," Sam whispered huskily, "... later." He lifted her chin with one finger and brushed his lips overs hers. And then the oven timer beeped and brought them back to their senses. "I should go study." He cleared his throat.
"And I'll bring you some dinner in just a bit."
Sam once again found himself forcing his body to turn away and return to the study. He shut the door on the sounds of her puttering around the kitchen and moved to the desk. He turned on the reading lamp, pulled out the rolling chair and reached for his notes. He had a long night ahead of him.
It was perhaps twenty minutes later that he was startled by Max knocking on the door. She came in, carrying a plate and a glass of milk. "Here," she murmured as she slid the plate onto the desk, a little out of the way so that he wouldn't accidentally bump it with his elbow. "I brought you some sandwiches. I thought that they'd be less messy than pot roast." Sam glanced at the plate and saw several sandwiches, thick with slabs of meat and real cheese, not the processed slices. She'd also added some potato chips, a sliced apple and a bunch of grapes. His stomach rumbled as he beheld the food.
"Oh man, that looks great." He reached for a sandwich half and took a huge bite as Max chuckled. She dropped a fond kiss on the top of his head and stepped away, but Sam wasn't about to let her get away. He dropped the sandwich back to the plate and pushed the chair back, chewing rapidly. He grunted as his arm caught her thigh and she looked down at him.
"Yes?" she asked, amused. Sam, looking up at her, rolled his eyes and exaggerated his chewing until he felt he could safely swallow.
"Thank you," he offered.
"It's no problem," Max grinned, but she did lean over to accept a proper kiss from him. She ruffled his hair once and then left him to his work again.
Sam continued to eat and work, though one wasn't going as well as the other. He, for some reason was very easily distracted this evening. And by the silliest things. Like the napkin Max had provided. Or the way she'd cut his sandwiches just as he liked. The ripe juiciness of the fruit she'd chosen reminded him of her lips. And then there was her thoughtfulness of how she'd managed to muffle the water in the fountain. Shaking his head each time, Sam forced himself to keep poring over the books and the notes he was making. She came in again eventually, to take away his empty plate and glass. She asked if Sam wanted dessert. He shook his head in the negative, not daring to look at her. If he did, he'd be lost.
"Well, if you change your mind, it's in the pan in the refrigerator. I'm going to hop into the tub," she informed him. Sam bit his tongue, holding back a groan. He nodded abstractedly, keeping his eyes glued to the page. He heard the door shut and inhaled deeply and the groan finally escaped. Her scent was lingering in the air and really did not need to be thinking about Max getting naked, ready to step into that huge tub. One that they'd already proven was roomy enough for both of them. Especially if Max... Sam groaned again and his head thunked down upon his books. Why couldn't he get her out of his mind? At least for a little while?
Pushing himself away from the desk, he stood and strode over to the front window. He threw it open and stood there, breathing in the cool night air. Gradually his head began to clear. Leaving the window just a slight bit open, Sam returned to the desk. Feeling refreshed, he began to work again. When he heard the water start in the bathtub, he forced himself to concentrate on the gently rushing water in the fountain. That was all he was hearing and nothing more. Once mastered, he returned to his work.
He didn't know how much later it was when he heard the slight lapping of water. He wondered momentarily what she was doing, but shook it off. He heard the water stir again and in his mind's eye, he could see her rubbing one foot against the opposite calf as she did whenever she had bubble bath. He wondered what scent she would have chosen. Was it the cherry blend she'd found in a nature shop? Or maybe the peach scent that he liked on her. Or maybe it was the latest, a collection of honey and almond. That always made him think of Max's body bathed in the sweet, thick, golden liquid.
Sam shifted in his seat, the swelling in his pants demanding attention. He grit his teeth. No bubble bath! Because of course, she might have used some of her bath oils, which Sam loved. The way they made her skin so smooth and slick as she slid along his body... Sam shifted again, going so far as to reposition himself. He listened again for a moment, but all he heard was the water fountain and the gentle hum of the computer. He breathed out a sigh of relief. But minutes later, realized that it didn't matter what he heard, since he was still so distracted that he'd just typed the exact same sentence, twice. And it had nothing to do with the subject at hand, but with the body in the room next door.
Shifting again, Sam flushed as he deleted the sentences. He groaned again, yearning for the good old days when Max could be in and out of the shower in under ten minutes. Why couldn't she just jump in and get washed? Just run that washcloth over her stomach, down her legs and back up again, the delicate curve of her spine...
'No!' Sam told himself. He would not think of Max washing her body... because it was so much more interesting to think of her washing her hair. Reaching up to coax the shampoo through her hair, her breasts tilted upwards, peeking out from under a cloudy foam of bubbles. "Damn it!" Sam snarled and then clapped his hand over his mouth. He could only hope that she hadn't heard him and decide to come investigate. He held his breath and heard nothing outside of the room. He readjusted himself once more, returning his gaze to the computer screen. Just as he began to type again, he heard the tub begin to drain. He held his breath in anticipation until he discerned her footsteps heading away from the study, towards the back of the house. He wasn't at all surprised to find that he was more disappointed than relieved. But it really was for the best. He had to get this work done.
But half an hour later, he was only two paragraphs ahead. He heard the door opening again. He tensed up, hunching forward, hoping like hell that Max wouldn't notice the damn raging hard-on he had. She stepped up beside him and put something on the desk.
"I made you a pot of coffee," she informed him softly. He nodded and dared a breath and then wished he hadn't as an even headier wave of desire assaulted him. Oh lord, she smelled so good.
"Is that a new perfume?" he asked before he could check himself.
"No," she answered, sounding puzzled.
"Ah," he sighed, still staring resolutely at the computer screen. "New bath scent?" and he wanted to bite his tongue.
"No," she murmured again. "Just plain old soap and water." Sam forced himself to nod. Max waited a moment to see if anything else was forthcoming and then said, "well, I'm going to go read in bed for a while. Goodnight sweetie."
"Night," he answered tersely. She turned to leave and Sam caught a flash of sky blue and the whisper of satiny material rubbing together. His head jerked around and Sam saw that Max was wearing a short, very short nighty trimmed with lace. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the desk. He was going to die of frustration right now! While she was calmly turning down the bed covers, bend over the bed, her breasts, flushed with the heat of her bath, ready to spill out of the flimsy material and into his waiting hands...
He was out of the chair and shedding his clothes before he could even register the path he was taking. She was in the bedroom, at the foot of the bed. She didn't even have time to fully turn around before he caught her up in his arms, his mouth latching onto her neck.
"Oh Sam! What-?" she exclaimed in surprise.
"Study break," he growled as his hands pulled the flimsy satin material away from her breasts. "God baby, you smell so good," he muttered, finding her nipples, his fingers circling, tugging, at them. "You've got me so horny I can't think straight." Max moaned softly as he rubbed his still clad erection against the rounded flesh of her ass. "Damn, Max, I don't think I can wait," he panted.
"So who's asking you to?" Max panted as she pushed him back slightly. She climbed onto the bed and turned to grin at him from over her shoulder. Excited and buoyed by the fact that she seemed just as turned on as he, Sam shoved his boxer briefs away and down his body. The slap of his erection springing back to hit his abdomen was only a minor annoyance. He climbed up onto the bed behind her, not caring that his feet still hung over the edge of the mattress. One arm encircled her waist as the other delved down to her velvety folds, already weeping with moisture. He grunted as her juices coated his fingers. "I told you I was feeling... romantic," Max chuckled huskily.
"I want you... hard and fast," Sam groaned, tauntingly, pushing his cock down, under her, between her legs, tempting.
"Please," Max whimpered. Sam let go of her, pushing between her shoulder blades until she came to rest with her hands on the covers. Moving closer, he guided his erection in her depths with a powerful single thrust and she pushed back to meet him.
"Oh God, Max!" he grunted. Sam pulled away and thrust again, grabbing at her hips to pull her back onto him. His seemed to move with a mind of their own as Sam continued to slam into her. The friction, slick and heated was delicious torture and Sam couldn't get enough of sliding into her, pressing downward, making her gasp. Every moan and gasp and cry that he wrung from her was a prize to him. The room swam around him until he realized that he'd been holding his breath, trying to hear her over the pounding of his heart. He sucked in a lungful of precious oxygen and blood rushed through his body again, renewing his energy.
"Sam!" Max cried out lowly as he felt her begin to flutter and tighten around him. He could feel her legs trembling against his. Wanting to come with her, Sam pushed hard and down, the pressure of running over her pelvic bone like a jolt through his cock. He could feel his sac tightening as Max's orgasm pulsed around him. He rode her through it as she cried out his name again and her arms collapsed under her. The abrupt change of angle startled Sam into coming, his hips jerking as wave after wave of pleasure sailed through him.
His body trembled with the effort of staying upright. Suddenly exhausted, Sam pulled away from her, through his hand lingered on her lower back. With a small, satisfied groan, Max moved to roll over and scoot upwards. Sam followed, collapsing right beside her. They lay facing each other. "I love you," Max murmured.
"I love you too Max," Sam smiled as he reached out one hand to cup the nape of her neck. His thumb stroked under her ear and she shivered a little. He glanced down and wrinkled his forehead as he took in the satin and lace nightgown she wore. "Is this new?" he asked, rubbing his finger across the material covering her stomach.
"Mmm, hmm," Max murmured drowsily, her eyelids heavy over her eyes. "I got it at Diane's party last week." Sam nodded.
"It's pretty."
Max glanced down at herself and then chuckled. "I'm sorry Sam. I honestly wasn't trying to distract you."
Sam just grinned. "You don't need sexy clothes to distract me. You do well enough on your own," he teased.
"Good to know," she giggled, "because I was distracted thinking about you. All... day... long."
"Too bad I had to study," he sighed, shifting closer to her.
"Had too?" Max questioned. "You're done?" she continued, sounding surprised. "Already? I thought this was just a break."
"It is," Sam groaned, rolling onto his back, staring up at the ceiling in frustration. "I just don't want to get up."
"Tired?"
"No," he whispered. "I just love laying here with you, that much." He heard her shift and then her face was looming above him.
"You are so sweet," she complimented, brushing her lips against his. "But you need to study." He was about to protest, but she shushed him. "I need to get up for a minute. Why don't you go get your things and bring them back here?"
"And how is that going to help?" Sam demanded wryly.
"Well I read somewhere, that some people retain more information on a subject when they learn about it and then teach it to someone else. You can tell me what you've been working on. And maybe, if I'm right here, you won't get so distracted, thinking of me being elsewhere."
"It's worth a try," Sam agreed. She pulled him from the bed and went about their tasks. Max made it back to the bedroom first, since Sam had to wait for the printer to spit out copies of his notes so far. When he returned, he found that she had taken over his side of the bed and added some pillows to her side, so that he could sit up comfortably.
"I figured that this way," she gestured to her side of the bed, "if you still want to cuddle, you'll still have your hand free to write."
"Works for me," Sam agreed as he laid the pile of books on the nightstand. He climbed into bed with her and they made themselves comfortable.
"Okay," Max instructed as she snuggled into his side, "glance over your notes and then tell me what you've got so far." Sam applied himself to the task while he absently rubbed his thumb over the supple curve of her shoulder. When he was done, Max turned the notes over and he went over them verbally with her. She checked and Sam was pleased to discover that he'd only missed one point that he'd had listed. "And there," Max muttered. "That sentence doesn't make much sense." Sam glanced at what she was pointing at.
"Ah well," he chuckled. "That's where I was distracted, thinking of you and peach bubble bath." Giggling again, Max pressed a kiss against his bare chest.
"Points for remembering something at least," she explained with a wide smile as Sam stared down at her, bemused. "So what book did you get this from?" Sam reached for the book at the top of the pile and handed it to her.
"Chapter nineteen, page 1167 or 8 I think." Max flipped through the pages and quickly read. She closed it then, keeping one finger inside to mark the spot and returned to peppering kisses all over his chest. "What's this for?" he laughed.
"Just 'cause you're so darn sexy when you remember things correctly," Max pursed her lips. She handed the book back to him and announced, "the paragraph continues onto the next page." Sam grinned and found the last spot he actually remembered reading. With occasional questions from Max, Sam got down to work once more.
It was nice, having her right there to encourage him and work with. And he knew that he should have remembered that from their home schooling
days. John had always been amazed at the quality of the papers that they had co-authored and projects that they did together. He was surprised though when after midnight, he muttered a question to Max and received no answer. He glanced down to see that she was sound asleep. Fondly and slightly amused, since she was more of a night owl than he, Sam dropped a kiss on her head and shifted his arm out from underneath her. And it was just in time too, since he'd been starting to lose feeling in it. He shook his hand carefully a few times and looked down at his girlfriend. She'd rolled onto her back, though her head was still turned towards him. The nightgown that had had a little room in it to move, was now bunched somewhere, causing it to stretch tightly across her chest.
Sam frowned, thinking that it couldn't be comfortable. He knew Max hated falling asleep in creased clothing as she always woke up with a matching mark and numb area on her body. He eased one finger in between her breasts, grasping the material and tugging gently. As she shifted, the nightgown gave way suddenly and Sam's hand jerked reflexively. His knuckle brushed against her nipple and she made a small noise. Sam pulled his hand free and with an impish smile, deliberately rubbed the nipple once more. She smiled in her sleep and murmured again. The smile turned into a smirk on Sam's face. He wondered... just wondered, if her breasts were that sensitive to his touch that he could make her orgasm, just playing with them alone. It wasn't a new thought, by any means. But it was followed by a new thought, by something different. Could he bring her to orgasm in her sleep? This did seem like... the perfect opportunity to find out. And Sam was not one to waste an opportunity once it was handed to him. Carefully he set his books and notes on the floor. He turned back to her and scooting down slightly, gently slipped one breast free of it's lacy confinement, deciding that he'd definitely earned himself another study break.
*****
Max puttered around the house, anxiously waiting for Sam to get home from school. He was supposed to get his test back today. On Friday morning, Max had gotten up early and typed up Sam's notes for him while he fretted over various little things. She'd told him to simply do the best that he could. Afterwards, he'd felt reasonably sure that he'd done okay. And Max knew how much he hated for his schoolwork to be simply mediocre. And she'd had to work that weekend. Each time she'd gotten home, he'd been agitated over something he was sure he'd missed. She'd soothed him as best as she could, never letting her own anxiety through until she was alone. If only this test didn't count for so much of his finally grade, in a required course.
Finally, she heard him at the door and rearranged herself on the couch, trying to look fairly unconcerned. Sam came in silently, dropped his backpack to the floor, hung up his coat in the closet, took something from the bag and came into the living room. He took a seat in the middle of the sofa, not looking at her.
"Hey," she greeted softly.
"Got my test back today," he told her in a low soft voice.
"How was it?" Max asked, frowning. Sam sighed.
"Allen," he said, referring to the teacher's assistant, "read Professor Ringwell's comments right out loud to the entire class." Max cringed a little. This couldn't have been good. "Said my score was not what he had expected to see at all. He wanted to know what on earth happened."
"Oh Sam," Max sympathized, rubbing at his shoulder.
"And everyone's sitting there, waiting for an answer," Sam laughed hollowly. "And I mean, I couldn't tell them that I spent the entire test thinking about you and our study breaks... oh God!" He flopped back against the couch, covering his face with his hands.
"So what did you say?" Max asked breathlessly. Sam groaned again.
"I managed to stammer out your theory about teaching to others to help retain the knowledge yourself."
"And?"
"And Allen said that he'd heard that theory too. He just couldn't believe that I got such phenomenal results with it."
"Ph- what?" Max demanded, suddenly confused. She grabbed the test from Sam's lap and her eyes scanned over the red numbers at the top of the page. "Ni-ninety-eight percent? Sam, that's amazing!"
"Highest score in the class," he bragged, grinning widely, all pretense and ruse dropped now that he'd surprised her. "Next highest score was seventy-four percent. And, that's the overall total. Look at the last page of the essay." Max flipped through and found what he was referring to.
"One hundred percent!" she shrieked. "Oh Sam! Look at this!" He laughed as she read Ringwell's comments out loud. "'Clear, concise, well organized. Has good solid supportive arguments without superfluous details.' This is just..." She turned and threw her arms around his neck. Sam lifted her onto his lap. Max settled herself on his legs, straddling them as she caught his face between her hands, dropping the papers to press a jubilant kiss against his lips.
"Mm," Sam moaned, pulling her closer. "I think we've definitely hit upon a very excellent study technique."
"Yep," Max agreed. "But only for the really important tests."
"All my tests are important," he pouted, shifting his hips under hers.
"Yes," Max grinned down at him, "but if you engage in it too often, it might lose its effectiveness."
"If you're not careful," he grunted, flexing his hips up again, " I just might engage you!"
"You'll have to catch me first!" Max bantered back playfully and then sprang from the couch. Sam shot after her as she giggled and dodged, shrieked and ran. A game in which both would definitely win.
RTD20- Happy Holidays, Holly Homemaker
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