Supernatural - Chapter 52: Tempted (Patreon)

During the final week of June, Sam decided to visit Bobby.

He said he had some research to do and might stay the night if it got too late, then drive back the following day.

Dean wasn't surprised. Sam had been the same way since childhood. Whenever he couldn't work something out, he practically wanted to bury himself in a mountain of books until he found the answer. Murphy thought nothing of the trip either. Visits to Bobby's were routine for all of them.

Before Sam left, Dean asked him to bring back a box of cassette tapes he'd forgotten there. Sam complained, of course, but agreed in the end.

He set off alone that afternoon.

Partway through the drive, he stopped for coffee. When he came out of the convenience store, Ruby was leaning against his car.

Sam frowned immediately, but she spoke before he could tell her to get lost.

“I hear you almost tore Lilith right out of her host.”

He had been reaching for the car door. Those words stopped him.

Ruby had obviously sought him out because of what happened. Demons had their own ways of sharing news about Lilith after her return. What had truly caught Ruby off guard was that Sam had already become powerful enough to push Lilith that far.

“You shouldn't be this strong yet,” she said.

That was enough to keep him listening.

He thought at once of Murphy's latest theory. She believed the power had always existed within him. On May 2, he'd simply been pushed to his limits for the first time, and after using the power deliberately, it might even continue to grow.

But it was still only a theory.

Ruby clearly knew more than they did.

“That power was yours all along,” she said. “You just wouldn't use it before.”

Sam found that less surprising than he might have once. “Murphy thinks the same thing.”

Ruby arched an eyebrow, apparently surprised Murphy had figured out so much. Then she smiled.

“Then she must know you can learn to control it, too.”

Sam's expression hardened.

“She doesn't recommend it.”

“But at least she admits it's your power.”

He fixed her with a look. “Leave Murphy out of it.”

Ruby didn't push the point. She merely shrugged.

She plainly wasn't expecting to win him over in a single conversation. Sam still distrusted her, and pressing him now would only make him retreat further.

“Suit yourself.” She moved out of the way. “I just figured you'd rather know what you're doing than lose control every time you're on the verge of dying.”

Sam opened the car door. Ruby made no move to stop him.

Before getting in, though, he remembered the terrible headache that night and the nosebleed he hadn't been able to stop.

“Then...”

Ruby turned back.

“That headache I had that night, and the bleeding,” Sam asked. “What caused them?”

“You used that much power on your first attempt. Were you expecting not to feel a thing?” Ruby sounded almost casual. “Knowing how to control it would be better than pushing yourself that hard again.”

Sam knew he shouldn't necessarily believe her. Unfortunately, she had just answered the question he'd most wanted resolved these past few weeks.

Ruby could see him wavering, so she didn't linger.

“When you actually want to know, come find me.”

After she left, Sam remained beside the car for a while before finally climbing in.

His coffee wasn't nearly as cold as when he'd bought it.

He reached Bobby's later than expected.

Bobby casually asked what had taken him so long. Sam said he'd been delayed while buying coffee. Only after he spoke did he realize how naturally he'd left Ruby out of the story.

Bobby didn't find anything strange about his answer. He soon dug up a few old books that might help and tossed them Sam's way.

Sam genuinely did plenty of research that evening, but Ruby's words kept slipping back into his thoughts.

The power was already inside him.

So was he supposed to wait helplessly for the next time it got out of control, or learn to wield it on purpose?

-

Sam called home that evening.

There were still several books at Bobby's that he hadn't finished, and he had no interest in making the drive home in the middle of the night. He'd sleep there and leave the next morning.

Dean didn't make a fuss. He just reminded Sam about the box of tapes, hung up, tossed his phone aside, and returned to the movie he'd been watching.

Murphy barely gave it a thought either.

She was feeling much better lately and no longer had to sit as gingerly as she had right after leaving the hospital. After a little while, her position on the couch became uncomfortable. She pulled her legs up and settled against Dean.

He glanced down at her without saying anything and lifted his arm to make more room for her.

The movie played on.

At first, Murphy had actually been following it. She couldn't have said when her attention started wandering.

Maybe it was the occasional brush of Dean's fingers against her hair as his arm rested behind her shoulders. Or perhaps they were simply so close that the moment she tilted her head, she could see the television light moving over the contours of his face.

Dean noticed her watching and turned toward her.

For a little while, they simply looked at each other.

Murphy suddenly decided she ought to kiss the handsome man in front of her.

So she did.

Dean had evidently reached the same conclusion. He lowered his head almost as soon as she leaned closer.

At first, it was an ordinary kiss, much like the many they'd shared recently. But neither of them moved away. As the seconds stretched on, the mood changed with them.

The television continued talking to itself. Neither of them was paying any attention to the plot anymore.

Leaning against the back of the couch, Murphy slid her hand from Dean's shoulder to the nape of his neck. She drew him closer. His breathing lost its easy rhythm, and the hand resting beside her moved around her waist.

When his fingers reached the side of her abdomen, he hesitated ever so slightly.

He'd developed the habit over the last couple of months. No matter how far things went, the moment he touched the place where she'd been hurt most severely, Dean instinctively held back. It was as though his body had remembered her injuries from May 2 before his mind had.

Murphy caught his wrist and deliberately pressed his hand back where it had been.

Dean raised his eyes to hers.

She didn't explain. She just held his gaze, and her meaning was clear.

She was healed now. At least healed enough that he didn't need to treat her so delicately.

Dean studied her for a moment. Then his palm settled against her waist again, and he bent down to kiss her.

This kiss was far deeper.

Murphy soon realized how much he wanted her. It wasn't the first time she'd noticed that lately, but every previous time they'd reached this point, Dean had stopped himself.

When she'd been at her worst, he'd even had to watch how he held her so he wouldn't put pressure on her ribs. As she recovered, they had gradually been able to do more together, yet that unspoken limit had stayed in place.

Tonight appeared to be no different.

After they had been kissing for quite some time, Dean eased back a little.

He remained close, his breath warm against her cheek and his hand still on her waist. He clearly didn't want to go anywhere. Nevertheless, after a few seconds he braced himself on the couch and slowly began to rise.

Murphy watched him, growing irritated.

Not this again.

She'd seen the same thing several times over the past two months. Let a kiss go a little further, and he'd casually manufacture an excuse to leave. A shower, a trip to his room, anything that put distance between them.

Before, Murphy had understood why. She'd never tried to stop him.

Tonight, however, she had no desire to keep cooperating with their silent agreement.

Dean had only just stood when someone caught the back of his T-shirt by the hem.

He halted and looked over his shoulder.

Murphy remained on the couch, one hand gripping his shirt. Her growing impatience was plain on her face.

Dean studied her for a couple of seconds and seemed to guess why she was holding him back. His expression turned decidedly complicated.

“Murphy...”

She wasn't interested in hearing it.

Instead, she pulled him close again, slipped her free hand under his shirt, seized the fabric, and started tugging it up.

That genuinely caught Dean off guard.

Murphy rarely saw him looking this way. His surprise was too obvious to hide, and there was even a hint of embarrassment he hadn't managed to suppress. For a moment, he looked nothing like the man who was usually so absurdly confident about women.

She found it unexpectedly funny.

Dean looked at his shirt, now bunched around his waist, then back at her.

Murphy tipped her face up to meet his eyes, although her gaze kept drifting toward his stomach. She still had hold of the shirt and showed no sign of letting go.

Neither spoke for several seconds.

Dean was the first to give in.

A smile gradually spread across his face. He caught the collar and followed her lead, pulling the T-shirt off over his head.

The movement left his short blond hair a little mussed.

Murphy stared for a moment, certain her heart was about to pound straight out of her chest.

Dean tossed the shirt aside. When he leaned over her again, the last of his surprise had been replaced by a smile she knew very well.

This time, he wasn't about to leave.

She felt the difference as soon as he kissed her. With the concern that had been restraining him finally set aside, he was much more direct. Before long, he scooped her up from the couch.

Murphy suddenly found herself off the floor. Her arms went around his neck on instinct, and her legs curled around his waist.

Dean secured his hold on her without even breaking stride.

They had hardly any space between them before. Now there was none at all. Murphy bent down to keep kissing him while he carried her toward the stairs. Apart from adjusting his grip as he climbed, they barely separated.

Up the stairs, along the hallway, and through the door to his room. He knew the way so well that he didn't have to think about it.

Only when the bedroom door closed behind them did Murphy slide from his arms to the floor.

Her feet had scarcely touched down before Dean was kissing her again.

Murphy had expected everything to happen rather quickly once they got this far.

After all, that was the impression Dean gave. He was experienced, openly fond of women, and thoroughly familiar with this sort of thing. He didn't seem like the kind of man who would take his time.

Once they actually began, she discovered just how wrong she'd been.

Dean certainly knew what he was doing, but he wasn't remotely in a hurry.

He was bare from the waist up, an amulet still resting against his chest. Even when his hands finally moved to her, he spent a while tracing the shape of her body through her clothes. Murphy started losing patience with his deliberate slowness. She reached to loosen her own clothing, and Dean laughed as soon as she did.

“What's the hurry?”

She had no intention of answering. Instead, she leaned in to kiss him.

After that, everything flowed together almost of its own accord.

As Dean helped remove her clothes, Murphy's hands traveled down his sides. Neither was content to sit still and let the other do everything. Their kisses broke briefly whenever they had to move, then resumed almost at once. One piece of clothing after another ended up beside the bed.

Initially, Murphy assumed he was moving so carefully because she had only recently recovered. Dean had spent weeks being cautious. Even after she'd made her wishes perfectly clear downstairs, his touch still lightened instinctively whenever he came near her right shoulder.

Before long, however, she realized her injuries explained only a small part of it.

Apparently, this was simply how Dean was.

Most of his attention remained fixed on her.

The smallest change in her breathing caught his notice. If a touch made her lean toward him without thinking, he soon found the same spot again. He could tell what she genuinely enjoyed and what she was merely willing to tolerate, often without Murphy having to say a word.

Worse still, he obviously enjoyed taking his time with her.

Once Murphy began losing her usual composure, he didn't even try to hide how pleased he was.

She stared at him for a moment.

Dean noticed almost immediately. “What?”

Murphy was in no mood to discuss this new discovery. She looped an arm around his neck and pulled him down again.

“Keep going.”

Dean blinked once, then broke into an unmistakable grin.

“Yes, ma'am.”

And he did exactly that.

Murphy quickly discovered, however, that his idea of continuing was rather more thorough than she'd expected.

He kissed her again, but didn't remain at her lips. His kisses traveled lower, little by little. At first, she didn't quite register what was happening. By the time he bent farther down, she suddenly understood what he intended.

She looked down at him just as he looked up.

His green eyes glittered with amusement. He even seemed to be waiting deliberately to see how she'd react.

Murphy caught her breath, and her hand closed around his short hair before she could help herself.

...Fine. He could do what he liked.

It didn't take long to discover that this decision had consequences even more serious than her earlier command to keep going.

Soon enough, she barely had the energy left to study his reactions at all.

Every so often, when she managed to catch her breath and look up, she found Dean looking thoroughly delighted with himself.

Murphy was almost overwhelmed. She gripped the sheets with one hand and his strong shoulder with the other. Once she could breathe evenly enough to speak, she demanded, “Feeling pretty pleased with yourself?”

Dean lifted his head. His already unfairly handsome face looked even more striking now, and his green eyes shone brightly.

“A little.”

She would dearly have liked to kick him off the bed, but at the moment she hardly had the strength.

Dean seemed to know it. His grin became even more infuriating, and when he leaned down to kiss her again, his satisfaction was obvious.

It was some time before he finally pushed himself up from beside her.

Murphy was still recovering when she saw him open the nightstand drawer and search inside.

A moment later, he pulled out a small, instantly recognizable packet.

She stared at it for a couple of seconds before lifting her eyes to his.

Dean caught the look. “What?”

Murphy had no interest in discussing why a man who had only just moved into a new house already had something like that ready in his bedside drawer.

“Looks like somebody's been planning ahead.”

And he'd certainly come prepared.

A faint tearing sound came from the wrapper. After that, Murphy lost all interest in analyzing the contents of the drawer.

She had always assumed this part of being with someone was simple. You liked them, you wanted to touch them, and then you followed where that desire led.

What surprised her most when it finally happened wasn't Dean's experience.

It was how little she had to worry about anything.

She didn't have to divide her attention between what she felt and what she thought she ought to do. There was no need to plan her next response. When she wanted to hold him, she reached for him. When things became too much, she didn't have to hide it. If her thoughts went blank, nobody expected her to maintain a particular expression.

Dean always seemed able to keep pace with her.

Murphy was accustomed to reading other people's reactions for clues about how close she could get, then deciding whether to move nearer or withdraw. Tonight, she hardly had to do that at all.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, almost startlingly so, and yet it made everything easier.

Eventually, she couldn't have said how much time had gone by.

When the room finally grew quiet, Murphy lay on the bed for a long while, too tired to bother lifting a hand.

Dean, infuriatingly, still seemed to have energy to spare.

She turned her head to look at him. His hair was a mess, his breathing had yet to settle completely, and there were marks on his shoulders and chest from everything they'd just done. Yet the satisfaction on his face was entirely undisguised.

Murphy was beginning to understand where that ridiculous confidence of his came from.

He did have good reason to be confident.

The realization left her with rather mixed feelings.

Dean noticed her staring and turned his head. “What is it now?”

“Nothing.” She thought for a moment and added with complete sincerity, “I feel like I've gotten to know you all over again.”

His eyebrows rose immediately.

“And? What's the verdict?”

Murphy had actually intended to compliment him. The moment she saw his expression, she swallowed the praise instead.

“Not bad.”

“Just not bad?”

Dean immediately pouted.

Murphy closed her eyes to make it clear the conversation was over. He was evidently unhappy with the verdict, but she looked too exhausted to move, so he let it go for the time being.

He didn't lie beside her for very long before getting up and leaving the room.

Murphy was too tired even to ask where he was going. By the time he returned carrying a glass of water, she managed to prop herself up a little on her elbows.

Dean handed her the glass and asked whether her shoulder or ribs hurt.

She considered the question seriously. She was tired, certainly, and her whole body still tingled, but none of her old injuries seemed to be bothering her.

Murphy shook her head and handed back the half-finished water. “I'm fine.”

Only then did he seem fully reassured. He set the glass on the nightstand, drew back the covers, and climbed into bed again.

Neither felt inclined to hunt down their clothes. Murphy rolled onto her side and moved naturally toward him, and Dean gathered her into his arms. After all the activity, the sudden stillness left only the sound of their breathing, not yet entirely calm.

Murphy rested there with her eyes closed.

Dean held her close, his hand against the small of her back. Every now and then, he rubbed it gently.

She was comfortable enough to drift off when a thought occurred to her. Her earlier conclusion really had been right.

From beginning to end, this man was astonishingly good at taking care of someone. You would never have guessed it from how he normally behaved.

Then again, he'd practically raised Sam himself. Didn't that make him a sort of mom in a man's body?

The thought made the corners of her mouth lift.

“What are you smiling at?” Dean asked.

“Just thinking of something nice.”

“Something to do with me?”

Murphy opened her eyes. To her amusement, he actually looked hopeful.

She pretended to consider the question. “Sort of.”

Dean plainly wasn't satisfied with the vague answer. He bent to kiss her cheek.

Murphy didn't try to dodge him.

The second kiss landed at the corner of her mouth, and by the third, his intentions were considerably less innocent.

At first, she kept her eyes shut and let him kiss her. After a little while, though, she noticed something changing.

The hand Dean had been resting on her back was slowly tightening its hold. Neither was wearing anything, and with their bodies so close together, certain changes were impossible to conceal.

She opened her eyes just as Dean paused.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. To her surprise, a rare trace of embarrassment crossed his face.

Murphy tried to hold back, but the words escaped. “Again?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Just proving I'm still young.”

He sounded entirely justified, too.

She studied him for two seconds before bursting out laughing.

Dean couldn't keep a straight face either. He lowered his face against her neck and laughed for a while. Their teasing dissolved the awkwardness, leaving the atmosphere pleasantly relaxed.

Neither of them moved apart, though.

Murphy's hand remained behind his shoulder, and Dean kept holding her. As their laughter died away, quiet returned to the bedroom. The feeling left by that last kiss lingered.

Dean lifted his head.

This time, Murphy kissed him first.

It was only a brief touch, and when they pulled apart, they were still close. Dean watched her as his playful look slowly faded. His palm settled against her waist once more.

She was still tired from earlier, but her body was already responding to his nearness again. With the newness of their first time behind her, she understood her own preferences much better now.

That thought struck Murphy as a little dangerous.

Dean could obviously tell she wasn't objecting. His eyes lit up.

Murphy warned him immediately, “Don't make that face.”

“What face?”

“The one you're making right now.”

He was already struggling to suppress a grin.

She found him equally irritating and funny. Instead of arguing, she reached up and pulled his face down toward hers.

If this was how things were going, they might as well stop talking.

This time felt different from the first.

The unfamiliarity of that first encounter had faded. They had learned something of each other's habits, and Murphy was noticeably more at ease. Earlier, there had been things she'd only dared to follow Dean's lead on. Now she began trying to return the favor herself.

The results were excellent.

At least a few times, she managed to bring the man who always seemed so effortlessly in control to a complete halt.

Murphy was extremely satisfied with that.

Dean saw the unmistakable smugness on her face and promptly smiled as well.

That was when Murphy realized she'd celebrated too soon.

By the time the room grew quiet for a second time, every scrap of energy she'd used to tease him earlier was gone.

Murphy lay face down on her pillow for ages, unwilling to move a muscle. She couldn't even be bothered to pull up the blanket where it had slipped below her waist. Dean, meanwhile, was in much better shape. His breathing wasn't completely steady yet, but he clearly had far more energy left than she did.

It was outrageously unfair.

When he leaned over to hold her, she kept her eyes closed and planted one hand firmly against his chest.

“Stay away from me for a minute.”

Dean paused, then started laughing.

“You weren't saying that a minute ago.”

Murphy opened her eyes and gave him a perfectly flat stare.

Dean wisely swallowed whatever he'd been about to add. He shifted a little farther away and pulled the hopelessly tangled blanket over them both.

At last, Murphy was comfortable.

She closed her eyes and decided that tonight had proved two things beyond a doubt.

First, Dean had every right to be confident.

Second, she must never casually provoke him at a moment like this again.

Especially not just because she'd gained a brief advantage. The consequences were much too exhausting.

He stayed quiet beside her and stopped teasing. Murphy expected to fall asleep at once, but after several minutes, she began to feel oddly uncomfortable with the little space between them.

Still keeping her eyes closed, she inched sideways.

A little farther.

Until her shoulder brushed Dean's arm.

He said nothing. He simply reached over and drew her back into his embrace as naturally as breathing.

Neither of them had put on clothes, and their skin still held the warmth of the evening. Dean's hand returned to her waist. This time he behaved himself, merely stroking her side now and then.

Murphy soon grew sleepy.

Just before drifting off, she thought vaguely that the night had been nothing like what she'd imagined.

And she'd loved it.

As for this boyfriend of hers...

He was certainly worth having.

The moment she reached that conclusion, she fell fast asleep.

-

Sam came home the following morning carrying two borrowed books and a stack of photocopies. He also remembered the tapes Dean had been pestering him about.

Dean took the box and inspected it. When Sam told him Bobby had threatened to get rid of it if Dean didn't come collect it, Dean promptly declared Bobby wouldn't dare.

Sam ignored him and put his research materials on the dining table.

Murphy quickly picked up the stack and thumbed through a few pages to see whether it contained anything she hadn't already found.

Sam sat beside her and watched her continue reading. His encounter with Ruby outside the convenience store the day before came back to him.

During the drive home, he'd considered telling Murphy about it.

But now that he was sitting there beside her, one sentence from her black notebook stood out in his mind with painful clarity.

[Don't trust Ruby.]

He had never forgotten it.

And because he remembered, he knew precisely how Murphy would react if he told her.

Ruby certainly couldn't be trusted. Sam understood that perfectly well. Yet she knew something about his power, perhaps more than everything their own research had uncovered.

He wasn't ready to cut himself off from that source of information.

“Murphy.”

She looked up from the papers.

He met her eyes for a moment, then forced himself to swallow the words that had almost escaped.

“There are still a few books I haven't finished. I might need to go back sometime.”

“Sure. I'll take a look with you when you do.”

Murphy lowered her head again and marked the margin of one of the pages with her pen.

Sam remained quiet beside her for a while. Then he picked up the remaining papers and went back to reading.