#he's got a shovel ready and everything isn't that sweet :)

[fagraymond]

TITLE : In time, Sugar sweet (NSFW)

PLOT : He's known Penelope for years, and he had yearned for her touch, and her love, and her attention for equally as long.

WARNING(s) : a lot of emotions, if it isn't obvious, this has a load of sex things here and i dont know how but there's details about solo sessions here too because i got carried away

EXTRA : ran out of time so. there will be. edits even after i post this <3 but here you go babes, my somewhat lengthy garceid fic because i can't control my love for them, also self beta read because what can you expect from me, set in season 4 and up? after he turns 30 because that's how i calculated the times and everything would fall apart if i literally wrote him any younger than 30 ( oh and the AGES, the ages and the timeline in general drove me nuts, there's no time consistency with this show i swear, i just made garcia and reid have a three year age difference )

"Penelope please"  He all but begged.

desperately asking to be shown even just the smallest illusion of touch, allowing himself to go dumb for the possibility — like the millionth time that night.

arching his hips towards her, in the most vulnerable, least innocent sweetest way and Penelope did nothing but watch.

Watched as he ached for her so openly, it was almost hard to believe that this was the same man she had worked with for years.

Normally so in his head with his constant brainstorming, filled with patience and animated expressions that would never border on something so carefree like he was now, in front of her. And she was the cause of this, the professional facade is broken down to someone as drunk as she was for him.

He was the sweetest thing, but she wanted to see him become even sweeter. Just for her. "Relax for me, your wait will pay off I promise you my sweets" and those words made him burn. along with the words lingering in the air that he knows like a popular symphony.

Her promise; I'll give it to you, only if you were to be so kind as to lose yourself to me. and He was ready to do that, with no hesitancy. to give himself up for Penelope Garcia.

Dr. Spencer Reid has been associated with Special Agent Penelope Garcia for 8 years; 96 months, 417 weeks, 2,920 days, 70,128 hours, 4,207,680 minutes, and 252,460,800 seconds and never once has he been this close to her, physically.

There were a few close calls. fingertips touching, hips bumping, and shared hugs with the identical urge to never let each other go, but that was before there was a spark, a mutually reciprocated spark. Before long gone as the past, when the duo was still so stuck in their heads, thinking that the other side would never see a romantic opportunity ever develop between them, during their job, and at the eye of the storm, there laid an incredibly oblivious Derek Morgan.

And by proxy, the barrier. As he had so kindly named himself during his incredibly detailed shovel talk with the couple.

Which Spencer had thought, at the time, to be a little dramatic yet as he reflected beyond those silly little moments spent with banter, It was almost obvious— too obvious that Spencer's days were dulled down majorly because of the closeness they shared.

None to him, because of course, Never to him. Just famously, Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia, lovers made for one another; soulmates to an extent that came off to Reid as baffling. No matter how bad that sounded on paper.

He had even shared advice once, to the flirtatious pair. when he was a spectator given front row seats to the two during the age of 27, but he had not told Penelope yet, He was a coward to risk their friendship for something as taboo in the workplace as it was; the chance of being her partner for as long as she'll have him. 

5 years, 60 months, 1,826 days, 43,830 hours, 2,629,800 minutes, and 157,788,000 seconds with a portion of those wasted by him pondering when he should've seen it. 

Barely subtle hints with the words 'I love you too, Spencer Reid' were plastered on the walls wherever and whenever she was there with him. In neon pens, with stickers and glitters and a lot of lipstick surrounding them, and blinking hearts.

Another one of their many days shared, was spent in a mansion.

9 years; 108 months, 469 weeks, 3287 days, 78,894 hours, 4,733,640 minutes, and 284,018,400 seconds and never once has he been this close to her, emotionally.

another celebration with Italian food, smiles showing teeth, drunk stumbles and amused hello's from sober people towards their loved ones who couldn't recognize them through the haze that is Alcohol. Nothing surprising in the Rossi mansion, at least to the BAU, who were the stars of the night.

They always were, they knew their ins and outs, even when Hotch tried his best to deny that the porch wasn't the comfiest thing in the world to a sleep-drunk Prentiss and a William LaMontagne who had no idea what was going on but he was way too wasted to not join in on being screamed at by the unit chief.

All of it was viewable from their spot in the kitchen. Alone and not wanting to join in on the fun they had spectated through the glass doors that should've drowned all sounds out if the bunch weren't screaming. Much to Rossi's neighbor's relief, and theirs. wanting nothing but to confront something between them, in privacy. the topic that had left tear stains on so many zebra prints and dyed sweaters to be passed off as unfortunate spills, just from the thoughts of having it.

So they moved to a different room, to another floor from how ridiculously many there were, according to Reid. Few suggestive comments were left here and there as they wondered around the halls, only to settle on a guess bedroom, at least they hoped it was.

"Let's hope that there are extra sheets because after tonight? It'll be almost impossible to tell that they were sheets in the first place" Garcia had said, jokingly making cat claw motions with her hands at the Doctor as he locked the room's door.

They needed privacy, that was his excuse. And if she had seen the flush in his face when she was merciful enough to not mention it.

It had taken them a good few minutes to even start the conversation, trading awkward hi's and hello's over and over that Penelope had to hold back the floods of flirtatious comments to attempt to lighten up the situation, but she knew that Reid wouldn't appreciate that, obvious from his pacing and well-hidden jittering.

And something at the back of her mind burned because she dreaded the topic too. The topic of them, as something. Disconnected from Reid and Garcia but someone to each other as Spencer and Penelope. No professionality, in their most vulnerable states.

Not as if it was a bad thing, of course. It was everything they could ever want, something they could only dream of, no matter how dirty those dreams could get in some nights. Something that they would trade the world for, just to have a taste; of being each other's someone. they wouldn't care about the time they could spend as lovers, they wouldn't hesitate to take the titles up as boyfriend and girlfriend even if they knew they would have the same fate as Rossi and his wives had. No, they wouldn't hesitate.

But despite that, It had taken so much courage for Reid to lean against her, with as much passion as they did whenever they hugged except there was something else under those simple actions they've memorized. Words traded with heavy double meanings left behind floating in the room like ships with too many winds in their sails, they didn't wait long to finally join the BAU, in their endeavors.

And at that moment.

How Reid glowed under the fairy lights, how perfectly framed Penelope's face was beneath the flickering rainbow flurries that had begun to blur as they sunk into their little world. For as long as she had him, Spencer Reid swam and never sunk, kept afloat with her pressure against his comforting weight when they had begun to slow dance to heavy terrible club remixes that blasted in their ears.

The spark; the one Reid had for years, ignited at that moment. no matter how humorous the settings may have been. Interpreted as the time Penelope realized how much she finally loved the young genius back, except of course she was a young genius of her own, mind you, with her little dirty secrets of her own.

No, not the nights spent thinking of the man; bending him over, kissing him lavishly, spoiling him with arrays of hickeys on his untouched beautifully scarred skin. No, none of that. Her secret was that; she felt affection for him, before that situation.

As obvious as the signs were that she made herself, it wasn't when he was 27. Beyond that, as cliche as it sounded; the fire in her heart started sturring so sweetly, was when she was 26, 3 years older than the other.

The first meeting wasn't even formal, a simple hello and a little lift of his eyebrows only to move on to looking somewhere else shouldn't have made her heart beat in her ears that loud, but her heart did. And it scared her when she came home, when she came back to find that she had already started breaking an FBI insituated rule. On her first day.

Had the moment she saw him, sitting cross-legged and unashamed with his hair slicked back and still so young to be at the scene like her, behind a so-named Derek Morgan, equally unashamed. It ticked to her that maybe, just maybe by chance. 

The thrill of using her knowledge to create a better environment for both the new and old generations plus being removed from the FBI's watchlist for her supposed justified crimes wouldn't be the only fuelling thoughts that would keep her going to work every. single. day.

Only to put it out with overpreparing and thoughts overthought. to meet the man again, the following day, and the next and the next until she can see his face so vividly in her mind, that she can only hope that maybe some day she can work with him, engage in conversations, without feeling like an aray of fireworks, craving the attention of crowds. Specifically, the crowd that contained him.

Only for that day to never come.

She wished it was joke, but she thinks very frequently about the doctor. very frequently, that her tendency has bled into her dreams.

A man with knowledge decades beyond his person, the only one on par with her 16-bit rhythm game, how could he ever see her in the same light? it would take a lot of time, for that possibility to breach the surface of her fantasy world.

And only 8 years beyond, would her thoughts be ever so true, once again under the gaze of the night with their shoes; worn-in converse and her glass slippers on the greener grass, blonde and cherub curls blending as the night went on past them.

Sharing body heat as if they would forever be cold until they were in the same vicinity of each other. There but barely touching the way they wanted to, so close yet so far and It had been like that for what felt like centuries, convincing themselves that they can wait.

Allowing their world to remain untainted with lust, to allow the light of emotions and struggles to be swept away by shivering winds so all that is left is the air that comes out of Spencer's winded mouth, as he let Penelope do whatever she pleases with his body.

Emotions are shown through the cracks that he had so nicely allowed go unmaintained, so she can see who he is for her. Someone vulnerable, someone ashamed and scared. Like anybody else, his knowledge didn't make him inhuman, but people treated him like it did, and it made him ache. And he had let Garcia see that.

All from his honeydew eyes, and she swears it was the trick of the light but wants, wants that she had familiarized herself with by her discretion— sprouted like a beanstalk in his eyes, something she had so foolishly thought the doctor was incapable of. Had he been so innocent looking in her eyes; oblivious to the nights with his wandering hands imagined as hers, caressing himself in the most perfect of spots. Nights spent with his fingers stretching himself out, the angelically sinful scene blocked by green-colored blankets.

It had been a topic spent under dimming lights and smooth tired whispers in the late mornings, grumpy from being waken up so early. Craving something that they knew would regret; would they be foolish enough like they were and to let themselves indulge in their pleasures, to risk being only that replaying in their brains? the only thing their body craves and craves until their blackout weeks are spent with twitching muscles?

Yes, they were.

Shared kisses, promises that became true. The moonlights, the gifts on their 6th Christmas spent with joys and jollies all around it made their cheeks ache. I love you's, not-so-subtle hand-holding under the conference table, smiles sent their way from their friends.

All of those were great, but how would it feel like to go another year, 365 days, 52 weeks, 8,766 hours, 525,960 minutes, and 31,557,600 seconds, no different from the next but instead with a barrier broken between them that consisted of their sexual fantasies coming through? what new intimacies would sprout, how careless, shameless would they become for one another?

Which circles them back to where they were now:

He had thought about it too much, Spencer. 

from the early times of 7 o'clock until the shades of beautiful crimson faded in a mix of pinks and became replaced by black, with no stars lighting up the dimness in the city, nothing in the night sky, except for the moon; that knew. that it had decided to make him look so beautiful twisted in Garcia's bed, his hair falling in his face— hand trying to find a place to cling onto as surges of stimulation raked up his body.

The bed in New England, USA, the bed that Derek Morgan had told them to not have too much fun in. The same bed Derek Morgan had hand-picked for the couple because it was his home renovation project, and they were having sex in it. Betraying their promise to him, almost easily with no hesitation.

Moans and wants to fall unashamed, something he never would've dared do if only a few years ago. But all of that was forgotten in a snap, with only him and her in the world, refusing to believe anybody existed outside of them, and his voice started to drown out from even his ears except hers, her ears that were picking up every shift— every shuffle of the duvet whenever he arched, whenever he moaned, whenever he begged for her; for more.

The sight was ethereal.

It was everything she had ever wanted, presented to her on a silver platter, and she was eating it up, or in better words, eating him up.

Penelope murmured tenderly against Reid's stomach, trying to urge the shaking male to take a breather; tenseness does not make the sexy process smooth, according to her expertise and Reid would believe anything she would say in a heartbeat. 

Especially when she made him feel so good; under her, practically hovering over him with his legs draped over her shoulders, and he knew that the position they always manage to find themselves in, never failed to give her the greatest access to his sensitive areas.

All the blood rushing. "Just keep still, my little love bug" Because of her, and It made him shiver. As she pinched his sides, giving him the slightest leeway of clarity before fading again to the haze that is his arousal. Unashamedly, he was thinking with his dick.

Which she never even attempted to touch, to touch him there until the end of their sessions. Because it was the main attraction, and she promises it in soft drags with her nails that were painted glow in the dark; that she'll get on to it, and with her kisses that trailed from the inner of his thighs to his cheeks that it'll feel so good. 

But only if he was a good boy about it.

And rest assured, he was being such a good, brave boy about it.

#this reached over 2K words btw #penelope garcia smut #spencer reid smut #garceid #garceid smut #penelope garcia x spencer reid #garcia x reid #penelope garcia x spencer reid smut #garcia x reid smut #hi i just love emotions #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction #penelope garcia fanfiction

[pureimaginefic]

October 3, 1991

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you..." everyone sang as Kevin stood in front of a large cake, Kellie by his side. He leaned in and blew the candles, everyone cheered.

"Happy Birthday" she said kissing his cheek "Ooh" she said, putting her hand to her stomach.

"Are you alright dear?" Ann asked.

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay" Kellie said smiling.

"Why don't you have a seat and relax?" Anne asked her.

"No, really, I'm fine, this has been happening a lot lately" Kellie said smiling.

"Mom's right, plus the doctor said you should be taking it easy, come on" Kevin said helping her into a chair "Do it as a birthday present to me" he said to her. "There you go" he said putting a pillow under her feet "Want some cake?" he asked.

"Duh" Kellie said to him.

"I'll be right back" he said as she put her feet up.

"I'll get you a nice tall glass of milk" Ann said following him into the kitchen.

"You look comfy" Vicki said sitting across from her.

"Far from it" Kellie said "I've never been more uncomfortable in my life" she said "My back is killing me, the hormones are driving me crazy and I haven't seen my feet in months...my shoes match right?" she asked.

"Yes" Vicki said laughing.

"Here you are my dear" he said handing her a giant slice of cake.

"Thank you, just what I need" she said taking it from him "Mmm...cake" she said eating.

"Now can I get you anything else?" he asked.

"No, go, enjoy your party" she said eating.

"Are you sure? Are you comfortable? Do you need another pillow?" he asked.

"I'm fine, I promise" she said.

"Alright, but I'll be back to check on you" he said.

"Oh I know you will" she said eating her cake.

"Wow, that must be nice" Vicki said to her.

"He's so sweet but to tell you the truth he's really getting on my nerves" Kellie said eating her cake.

"I'm actually surprised he had a party what with happened to his dad this summer..." Vicki said sadly.

"Yeah I know, he's doing so much better with it now" Kellie said, still shoveling cake into her mouth.

Vicki reached over to stick her finger in the frosting, Kellie slapped her hand away.

"I'm pregnant too you know!" Vicki said to her, licking the frosting from her fingertip.

"Get your own!" Kellie said to her "Ooh...oh..." Kellie said sitting up and putting the cake down.

"You okay?" Vicki asked.

"Cramping" Kellie said to her, she took a deep breath "Okay" she said relieved.

"You okay now?" Vicki asked concerned.

"Yeah" she said before groaning in pain "Or not" she said.

"Kev!" Vicki yelled.

"Kel? You okay?" Kevin asked rushing over to her.

"No don't worry I'm..." she said before groaning again "Fine" she said to him.

"No you're not" he said to her.

"Oh no" Kellie said as her face went blank.

"What? What happened?" he asked nervously.

"My water just broke" she said.

"Oh god...okay, we got to get you to the hospital, can you stand up?" he asked.

"Not really" she said as he helped her up.

"What's going on? Are you alright dear?" Ann asked.

"Kel's in labor" Kevin said to her.

"My goodness! We've got to get you to the hospital, come on sweetheart" Ann said helping Kellie outside.

"Wait! Wait, you need to call my parents" she said.

"I got it" Vicki said picking up the phone and dialing "Go!" she said to them.

~*~

Ken and Lynda rushed into the emergency room with an overnight bag.

"Can I help you?" a nurse asked them as they approached the desk.

"Yes, we're looking for Kellie Mitchell, she was just brought in, she's having a baby" Ken said to the nurse.

"Are you family?" the nurse asked.

"We're her parents" Lynda said to her.

"Room 219" the nurse said.

"Thank you" they said hurrying to the elevator.

Kellie lied in her hospital bed, taking slow deep breaths.

"I just checked with the desk, your parents are here, my mom's going to bring them in" Kevin said to her.

"Hold my hand" she said to him, she squeezed it tightly as she took more deep breaths.

"Kellie, Kellie" Lynda said bursting into the room "Oh honey" she said rushing to her side.

"Mom" Kellie whined as her mom came to her side.

"You okay?" Lynda asked.

"Oh yeah, just great" she said rolling her eyes.

"Kellie" Ken said coming into the room "Hi princess" he said kissing her forehead "You doing okay?" he asked, Lynda shook her head at him.

"Can we get you anything?" Lynda asked.

"I'm going to get you some ice chips" Kevin said leaving the room.

"I don't want ice, I want drugs!" she yelled at him.

"I'll get the ice chips first" he said leaving the room.

"Mom" she whined "This really hurts" she said.

"Oh I know, I know it does, but it's all worth it, you'll see" she said grabbing a cloth and dabbing Kellie's forehead with it.

"Well Kellie, good to see you again" the doctor said coming into the room, snapping on a pair of rubber gloves.

"Oh doc, please tell me I'm close to delivery" Kellie said to her.

"We're about to find out" she said throwing a blanket over her knees and examining her.

"Well?" Kellie asked hopefully.

"You're at 3 centimeters" she said "Just sit back and relax, you're going to be here for a while" the doctor said pulling her gloves off.

"Yeah that's what I want to hear" Kellie said irritated.

"Try to get some rest okay? I'll be back to check on you in a little while" she said leaving the room.

"Here, got the ice chips" Kevin said handing her a Styrofoam cup.

"Just relax honey okay" Lynda said to her.

"I'll try" Kellie said putting a few ice chips in her mouth.

Kellie soon fell asleep, her parents and his mom slept out in the waiting room and he was slumped over in the chair next to her bed, listening to the steady beeping of the monitors.

October 4, 1991

The dark night sky turned into a cool blue, a few stray stars twinkling above, the blue then faded into a pale pink, the early morning sun was just over the horizon. Kellie opened her eyes in time to see the sun peak when she began to feel mounting discomfort.

"Kev, Kev" she said waking him up.

"You okay?" Kevin asked jolting awake.

"I think this is it" she said.

He stood up and raced out into the hallway.

"Honey? Are you okay?" her mom asked.

"It's time" Kellie said.

Kevin followed closely behind the doctor, she examined Kellie "Eleven hours, you're a trooper" she said "You're ready for delivery".

"Mom" Kellie said reaching out for Lynda.

"Don't worry honey I'm right here" Lynda said taking her hand.

"So am I" Kevin said taking her other hand and kissing it.

"This is it" she said to him.

"This is it...time to meet our son" he said to her smiling.

"I love you" she said.

"I love you too" he said to her.

A nurse entered the room and the doctor closed the door behind her.

"Okay Kellie, on your next contraction I want you to start pushing okay?" the doctor asked sitting at the foot of the bed.

Kevin and Lynda held her legs up as she squeezed their hands tightly.

"Okay Kellie...and push" the doctor said, Kellie clenched her teeth together, screeching coming from her throat. "Keep pushing, come on you can do it" the doctor said. Her grunts and groans became louder with each push. "One more push, just one more" the doctor said to her.

"Come on you can do it, I know you can" Kevin said to her.

"If you don't shut up, I'm going to tear your eyebrows right off!" Kellie said to him.

"Fine, you can do that later" he said to her.

"Come on Kellie, keep going, good girl" the doctor said, she fell back to the pillows trying to catch her breath. A loud wailing cry came from her feet, she sat up "Here he is" the doctor said holding him up, he continued to cry out when the nurse took him. Tears streamed down Kevin's face as well as Lynda's.

"Here he is" the nurse said handing him to Kellie.

She bundled him up in her arms "Hi" she said happily "Hi" she said as he kissed her forehead.

"Six am on the dot" the doctor said to her glancing up at the clock.

"Oh my god" Kellie said happily.

Later, Kellie sat with the baby cradled safely in her arms, looking down at his tiny face.

"Mom, I want you to meet someone" Kevin said bringing Ann into the room.

"Oh" she said happily "Would you look at him" she said.

"You want to hold him?" Kellie asked.

"Please" Ann said holding her arms out, Kellie carefully passed him over "Oh hello little boy" she said rocking him gently in her arms "He looks just like you did" she said to Kevin, she gave him a kiss on the cheek and kissed Kellie's cheek as well.

Her parents then came in the room "oh...Look at our grandson" Ann said to Ken and Lynda.

"He's absolutely perfect" Lynda said "May I?" she asked.

"Oh of course" Ann said passing him over.

"Hello angel" Lynda cooed "Ken, look at this little face" she said.

"Hey there little guy" Ken said "I'm grandpa" he said happily.

"Isn't this great? You get to share a birthday with your son" Ann said to him.

"Kinda" Kevin said "Just missed it" he said "can I?" he asked Lynda.

"Here's your daddy" Lynda said passing him over.

"Yep, I'm your daddy" he said sitting next to Kellie, his little hands were balled into fists, he let out a tiny yawn. His little eyes peered open as he looked up at them.

"Hi" Kellie said "I'm your mommy" she said to him.

Bronson and Kristy came into the room, out of breath from rushing down the hallway, still clad in their pajamas.

"Are we late?" Bronson asked frantically.

"No course not" Kellie said to him "Come say hi to your nephew" Kellie said ushering them into the room.

"He's so cute" Kristy said getting closer.

"He is, isn't he?" Kellie asked.

"Everyone, we want you to meet, Kyle Michael Richardson" he said to everyone as Kellie smiled, holding his little hand.

"Richardson?" Ken asked.

"Ken..." Lynda said in a warning tone.

"Richardson...great" he said.

~*~

A few days later Kellie was packing everything up to leave the hospital.

"Hey" Melissa said as she and AJ came into the room.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Kellie asked.

"We had a doctor's appointment and figured we'd stop in and meet little Kyle" Melissa said.

"Hey" Kevin said softly as he gingerly carried Kyle into the room, Melissa gasped "Here he is" Kevin said.

"Look at him" Melissa said.

"Well he's definitely yours, he's got the eyebrows to prove it" AJ said "Poor kid" he said.

"Shut up" Kevin said.

"Oh he is so precious" Melissa gushed looking at him.

"Want to hold him?" Kevin asked.

"Please" she said as Kevin passed him over to her.

"I'd give you a cigar if I were able to buy them" AJ said patting his shoulder.

"Thanks" Kevin said as they laughed.

"So dad? How do you feel?" AJ asked putting his arm around Kevin's shoulders.

"Amazing, I can't even describe how happy I am, he's everything" Kevin said.

"What about you? mom?" Melissa asked Kellie.

"I'm exhausted but I'm happy" Kellie said smiling.

"Here you go, here's your momma" Melissa said handing him back to Kellie.

"Thanks for coming guys, we really appreciate it" Kellie said to them.

"Of course, you guys heading out?" Melissa asked.

"Yep, time to get Kyle home" Kellie said.

"Congratulations, he's perfect" Melissa said hugging Kellie.

"Thanks for coming guys" Kevin said to them.

"Congratulations old man" AJ said patting Kevin's shoulder once more.

"We'll see you later" Melissa said as they left.

"Can't believe how small he is" Kevin said.

"Didn't feel small" Kellie said as they looked down at him.

"Oh yeah I asked my mom to bring this over" he said holding up his football jersey.

Kellie laughed "Very nice" she said.

"It's like a bookend" he said wrapping Kyle up in it "You were wearing this when we made him and now...he's wearing it" he said, Kellie laughed.

"Okay sweetie, you ready to go home?" she asked setting him in a carrier "Ready?" she asked as he picked up her bag and the carrier.

"I think we are" he said as they left the room.- Pomp & Circumstance ch. 24 "Kyle Michael Richardson"

#jr. bsb series #original characters #bsb fan fiction #pomp and circumstance #kyle birthday spam #jr. bsb birthday

[lilhemmo]

honestly i love how much you love vegeta! and i really like the way you write him! would you be able to write something around the majin saga?? not necessarily in the saga but centered around the same type of things?? maybe vegeta admitting that he misses the way he used to be when he didn't care about anything and didn't have any attachments?? and then something happens to make him realize that love isn't a crutch but a weapon? thank you in advanced!!!

a/n: thank you so much, you sweet little thing!! i hope i do your request justice :)

a/n x2: wow i am pretty much just rambling in this fic. hopefully it makes some sort of sense. 

“I will not be bested by that sad excuse for a Saiyan again!”

You hear the roar from across the courtyard and it piques your interest. You look outside to see Vegeta panting, chest heaving as he blasts through a training session. You want to laugh, but this time is different. Vegeta has always been tense, but the past few weeks have been excruciating. 

“Vegeta!” you call, leaning out the open window of the kitchen. He turns just enough that you know he’s recognized your voice and you smirk, “Lunch is ready.”

“How dare you interrupt my training?” he scoffs, snatching a bottle of water from the countertop. Vegeta drinks the entire bottle, crunching the plastic between his hands before tossing it perfectly into the trash can. 

You take a breath, “Are you okay?”

Vegeta pulls a plate of food from the counter and broods over the top of it for a moment before eating a few bites. He’s surprisingly reserved today, which only makes you even more scared and confused. 

“I refuse to fall behind him any longer,” Vegeta scowls. His jaw trembles under the stress of his teeth as he grinds them together roughly. “Even in death, he surpasses me. I can sense it.”

You shake your head and lean against the counter, your arms tucked around your abdomen. “I think that’s part of the reason you’re having issues.”

He raises a brow and you swear you see his eyes start to glow. Vegeta grunts before shoveling another mouthful of food between his lips. he doesn’t answer you immediately, but when he does, the sheer anger that is simmering just beneath the surface of his words sends a chill down your spine.

“I would rather die than be bested by that terrible representation of our race.”

You swallow and respond despite everything in your body telling you to tread carefully, “I don’t know what crawled in your armor this morning, but you need to calm down. Your whole life doesn’t have to revolve around Goku, you know. Maybe try just getting better for yourself?”

“You foul woman,” Vegeta growls, grasping you by the collar to pull you close. “How dare you speak out against me, Prince Vegeta?”

“Talking about yourself in third person won’t make you any more intimidating,” you narrow your eyes at him and wedge your pointer finger into the hollow of his throat. “I’m sick and tired of this back and forth, Vegeta. It’s redundant for you to believe that all there is in life is for you to be better than Goku.”

“Kakarot,” he huffs under his breath. 

You roll your eyes again, “Regardless! Haven’t you seen that there is so much more to life than just the next fight? You’re absolutely ridiculous!”

Somehow you manage to slap his hand away so he releases his grip on you. You turn on your heels and don’t look back over your shoulder as you make your way back to the engineering building, ready to fill your mind with busy work so you don’t have to worry over the frustrating prince. 

--

Something shifts the next time he’s in the med bay. 

You’ve engineered a new type of spray on bandage that minimizes healing time by half, which is much better than your last invention. You’re rubbing in the adhesive when you notice the Saiyan’s eyes are on you.

You tilt your head up in silent questioning. He does not say anything.

Vegeta’s dark eyes are difficult to look away from - he commands you with just a glance and you know he would have made a strong king, if his planet were still around. He would have been a proud Saiyan, one who led his people with honor. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks you, breaking your mind from your imaginative state.

You can’t help the small grin that perks your lips, “You.”

It’s bold, and daring, but you do it anyway. 

His voice catches in his throat as his Adam’s apple rakes across the thin skin of his neck. Vegeta tenses under your hands, but you continue your ministrations despite it all. You are wrapping gauze around his bicep when he asks why you’d be thinking about him. If you weren’t so distracted by the sinew of his muscle, you’d be sure that he’s nervous. 

“I’m imagining you on Planet Sadalla, or Planet Vegeta. You, as a king, with your tail.” You lick your lips and refuse to meet his eyes, you can’t handle the intensity now. A blush brings heat to your cheeks, “I think you’d have made a wonderful king, a great leader. You have honor and pride and you know your way around an enemy. I’m angry at Frieza for taking that from you; I wish I could punch him in his smug, alien face.”

A chuckle catches you off guard. You turn your head to look at him, a smile gracing his face. It’s strange, new. You want to cup his cheek with your palm and take in every curvature of his face, but you know better. 

“Frieza would demolish you, little earth woman,” Vegeta cackles. His palm presses to your thigh where it’s straddling the bed next to his own body, and you feel a wave of heat and electricity spark in your veins. His eyes are hooded when he looks up at you, “I appreciate your desires, nonetheless.”

You grit your teeth for a moment as you contemplate speaking up again. Whatever emboldened you before is back at it, and when you say your next words, you confuse the Saiyan prince even more: “I hate what the world has put you through, Vegeta. You’ve been enslaved, murdered, stolen from your home, lied to, and manipulated. I wish I were strong enough to become everyone of your oppressors nightmares, but I know I’m not.”

“I don’t need your-” 

Something stops Vegeta mid-sentence.

He clears his throat and starts again: “Would you like to train with me?”

“Wh-” You drop the bandage in your hand and it rolls around on the floor until it’s nothing but a cardboard tube. You tilt your head and he chuckles at the sight, “You look like a confused animal, earthling. Do you want to train or not?”

You swallow thickly and stumble over your words for a moment before agreeing. You pick at your cuticles when you speak again, “W-What would be the point? You’re so much stronger, I wouldn’t be a challenge for you at all.”

“Tch, nonsense,” Vegeta stands to his feet and flexes his hands into fists, feeling his way around the bandages there. “I trained with Kakarot, and he’s hardly more than a child in an overgrown Saiyan body.”

You shake your head. You can’t believe this. 

“Vegeta, I-”

“Do you want to, or do you not? I won’t offer again.”

-

It’s another hour before he has you pinned to the ground, knee between your legs and a palm pressed firmly to your throat. You claw at his arms but he pins your wrists above your head with a quick side swipe.

You kick him in the back with your free leg and cry out for mercy. He chuckles as he releases his hand from your neck, but does not remove himself from you. 

“You did well,” he tells you, brushing a stray lock of hair from where it was stuck with sweat against your cheek. Vegeta smirks, “You’ll be the strongest earthling in no time.”

You can’t help it when you laugh, “Vegeta, Krillin would take me out in one blow. You don’t have to lie to me, I know I’m a weakling.”

His thumb stops against your law and his eyes are like crystals when he glares down at you, “Don’t ever call yourself weak. You’re the strongest woman I know.”

The fact that he so gently left out “little earth” from before the “woman” bit does not go unnoticed by you. You take a chance and reach up to run your thumb over the pulsing muscle of his bicep. 

“Gah,” he squints and steps away from you, rolling his shoulders as he stands to his full height. He shakes his head and looks down at you, “That’s all for today.”

You squeeze your palms a few times to regain feeling, noticing the small splits and cuts there. You weren’t able to get hits on Vegeta, but you did manage to slam into the walls and floors and fighter-bots a few times. He must notice you looking at them because he asks, “Does the doctor need a doctor?”

You don’t want to admit that the gashes in your hands hurt as bad as they do because he just called you strong, so instead you nod your head in the slightest. The motion makes him chuckle and you like the sight of a smile on his face. 

He walks just ahead of you back to the med bay, his own bandages still fresh from the past few training sessions he’s held on his own. You find your way to one of the beds and sit a still as possible while he plucks different supplies from the cabinet. You think he’s going overboard - he’s got all kinds of things sitting on the counter now - but you dare not criticize him for fear of him possibly lashing out and you having to dress your wounds yourself. 

“Thank you,” you force yourself to say before the pain of stitching you up begins. You look up at him as he loiters over you, all bulk and muscle. It’s still a strange sight to see when the smallest of grins upturns the corners of his lips. 

“I couldn’t let you give yourself second-rate stitches,” he shrugs off your compliment, doling out a few anti-bacterial wipes to clean the blood and dirt off first. “If you get an infection, you won’t be able to train again.”

You nod and let him get to work. He slots himself between your knees and holds your palms more gingerly than you thought ever possible. You try your hardest not to wince when the antiseptic soaks into your open wounds, you know that Vegeta would take back what he said about you being the strongest woman he knows if he saw you squirming because of a little stinging pain.

“You can stop being so tense,” his voice is just as gentle as his touch and it startles you. You swear you hear a short bark of a laugh part his lips.

“I’m sorry.” You swallow the lump in your throat and try to relax your muscles. You swing your feet back and forth just enough to brush your thigh against his and the friction makes you both startle. 

Vegeta looks you in the eye, “Why are women always apologizing?”

You’re confused by his question until you realize that you did in fact apologize. Your cheeks burn and you feel your stomach flip, “I-uh, I don’t know.”

“Well, little woman,” he grabs for the cotton bandages to wrap your clean hands so they can heal. “You should stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for, not with me.”

Vegeta turns his head and glances at your split lip before silently starting to clean it as well. His thumb brushes the pad of antiseptic over the cut and you hiss at the feeling. Surprisingly, he cradles your jaw in his palm and kneels down to look at your wound closer, never releasing the cotton pad from your lip.

You go to apologize, but he pushes the pad of his thumb against your parted lips, “Don’t.”

Your brow is raised and he answers your quiet question, “You were about to apologize. I already told you there’s no need.”

The lump in your throat grows with emotion and you let him continue his ministrations. He’s close to you and his Saiyan blood pumps hot in his veins, the skin of his that’s touching you making your body boil. You lean into his hand and he doesn’t rebuff you, so you stay there while he cleans your lip. 

“There,” he removes the cleansing pad from your lip and takes a half step back from you. Vegeta looks up at you and you’re suddenly aware of how close your faces are. If you were to lean forward and he weren’t to run away, you could kiss him soundly, despite the split on your lip.

It takes all of the courage in your body, but you grip him by the hem of his shirt and tug him down to kiss him square on the mouth. Vegeta lets a surprised gasp echo from the back of his throat and it turns something over in your belly. You let your fingers wander, the pads of your bandaged hands brush over the taut muscle of his abdomen. 

Vegeta’s hand is still on your jaw, his thumb just under the soft part of your chin. He holds you still, his other palm cupping your thigh as it inches up his side. You whimper as his teeth graze over your lip, splitting the wound again. His tongue touches the sensitive flesh and then he pulls away, his thumb finding the wound once again.

“I guess you’ll have to take a break from training, little woman,” Vegeta smirks, eyes tracking the movement of your pulse against your neck. He snickers, “You’re bleeding.”

“As if,” you curl closer to him, your ankles wrapped around his calves. “You just don’t want to have to face me again. Like I’d give you the satisfaction.”

The look on his face is one you can only describe as prideful.

-

“I’m only joining this stupid competition so I can kick Kakarot’s ass!” Vegeta growls, curling his hands to fists. “If we’re here for some silly reason other than the competition, I’m going to rip you all apart!”

Goku is standing in front of him, halo hovering over his head, and it’s like a billboard that displays all of the Saiyan prince’s inequities. The kai’s share their ideas and it only makes Vegeta’s blood boil.

A heat begins to pulse at the back of Vegeta’s head and he hears a voice, small and slithering like a tendril of smoke. It threatens to take over his mind if the plume grows too large. 

I will give you the tools to overpower Goku and take back your Saiyan pride once more. 

Vegeta shakes his head, the voice pounding against the sensitive spots just behind his eyes. He swallows the lump growing in his throat and tries to ignore the temptation.

You will finally be able to surpass the lower-class Saiyan and prove that you are the almighty Prince Vegeta!

A searing starts on Vegeta’s forehead and he doubles over in pain. He screams, attracting the eyes of those around him. 

I will help rid you of all your possessions that are holding you back! You will be the mightiest warrior! 

“Vegeta!”

He turns his eyes to see you in the bleachers, your hands cupped around your mouth as you shout out to him. 

The way tears sit in your eyes makes his heart clench in his chest, but the burning keeps coming. The cloud of smoke is burning just behind his eyes, clouding his mind until it hurts to keep his eyelids open.

Your steps are quick as you rush down the bleachers, pushing past security. He can sense your energy as you come closer, and the closeness of it pulls him from his fog. He winces as he looks up at you, falling down to his knees as the writhing pain continues. 

“What is going on?” you ask him, mirroring his position. You shake your head, “Hey, talk to me.”

“Get away from me, you foul woman!” Vegeta snaps.

You can see the tears in his eyes, and you know that there is something sly afoot. You run your hands over his shoulders and up his neck to cradle his jaw, “Stop this. What’s happening?”

Vegeta winces, “I-I said to get away.”

You notice there is a symbol pulsing red on his forehead - it looks similar to the letter “m”. You brush your thumb over the spot and Vegeta whimpers in pain. 

“I need to beat Kakarot,” he murmurs, blood trickling from his nose at the struggle. “I am sick and tired of these earthly tendencies I’ve picked up. I’ve forgotten what it means to be a proud Saiyan!”

You tilt his chin upward and he looks you in the eyes and you can see that there is some horrible internal battle that he’s going through. You’re not sure if you can do anything to help him.

“Vegeta,” you whisper, your knees digging into the dirt. “I’m not sure who is trying to overpower you, but you’re so much stronger than this. You don’t need anyone else’s help to pass Goku’s power level. You can do it on your own!”

You palm his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are dull and you feel his spirit fading as the mark on his forehead grows more opaque.

“I don’t need you,” he grits the words between his teeth like they hurt. Blood trickles down his nose as he continues fighting. His palms dig into the dirt, his Super Saiyan form threatening to break through. “I don’t need you!”

You try not to take it personally - he’s going through something and you must be a part of it. You swallow your pride and force your tears to stay locked away, “Vegeta. I can feel some negative energy. Please, tell me what’s going on.”

She does not know what it means to be a proud warrior. She is but a mortal! Get rid of her, she is the problem. She has made you weak, she has softened you. She is what is holding you back from becoming a true Saiyan warrior!

“You’re the issue,” he grumbles, looking you in the eye. His eyes glow blue and the aura around him starts to shine golden and you know that Super Saiyan is on the way. “You’ve made me weak, you frail, pathetic earthling! I’ve grown too comfortable here, too complacent. I’m a pathetic Saiyan - I should be proud! I should be formidable! Instead, I’ve become satiated. I’ve lost my drive!”

A resounding SLAP can be heard across the entire courtyard. 

Vegeta’s cheek is bright red and your hand is ready to come back around for another smack. Your lip is trembling but you force yourself to speak, “Your doubt in this moment is what’s making you pathetic, Vegeta.”

His jaw goes slack and he tries to formulate a response but you notice the dark symbol on his forehead is beginning to fade just slightly. 

“You having something to fight for makes you that much more powerful. When you have nothing to lose but yourself, it’s easy to fall, it’s easy to take a loss because it doesn’t matter.” You coddle his cheek, feeling horrible for the action but knowing it was necessary nonetheless. You lick your lips and feel your voice growing heavy, “Whatever this is that’s tempting you to break away from the path you’re going down, it’s lying to you. It’s manipulating you.”

“How dare you!” Vegeta’s brows are raised, eyes wild, “How dare you insinuate that I, the mighty Prince Vegeta, can be manipulated!?”

Your lip quivers, “Go on, then,” you shrug, falling back on your heels, “make it easy. Say I never mattered to you.”

Flashes of memories burn behind your eyelids. Moments of lips and hands and skin. Moments of secrets and truths and laughs. Moments where you thought the feelings blossoming between the two of you could mount to something much more permanent.

“I-” Vegeta’s voice is caught in his throat, his fingers shaking at his sides. 

He’s looking down at you and trying to beat out the cloud in his mind, the voice that’s telling him how you really shouldn’t be important. He can’t help but feel that it’s all lies - but if it’s lies, then why does it feel so right? 

That’s right, Vegeta. Let go of her. Let go of your attachment. I can make you powerful, but you have to let go.

“Listen to me, Vegeta,” you pull at his cheeks again, forcing his gaze to fall on you. You run your hands against his face and push his hair back out of his eyes, “I don’t know who is on the other side of this, but don’t let them win. You’re the strongest, smartest, and most capable fighter I know. You can beat this!”

Vegeta grips his hands in his hair and squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a feral scream. Tears surge down his cheeks and he starts talking in an ancient language that you don’t understand, and to someone that you cannot see. 

The symbol on his forehead glows bright red before fading away. 

He releases a puff of breath through his mouth before falling to the ground, the exertion from the internal struggle wearing out his body and mind. 

You catch him against your own body, resting his head in your lap, “C’mon,” you look up at the others, “I’m going to take him back to Capsule. It looks like you guys have a fight to win.”

-

When Vegeta awakens, he’s surprised to find you curled up in a chair with a small scrap of a blanket covering only half of your body. There are gentle snores rumbling in your chest and the Saiyan finds himself grinning at the sound. 

“Hmm,” you murmur as you readjust, your eyes opening just enough to check on him. Once you’ve realized that he’s awake, you leave your eyelids cracked so you can keep a closer watch on him. 

“You stayed,” Vegeta manages. He doesn’t reach out to grasp for you - he doesn’t feel like he has the right. Not after what he said at the arena earlier. He never has really deserved you, but now he knows that you should run far away from him. 

You nod and tuck the blanket up under your chin, “Yes, of course. Someone had to make sure you didn’t try for world domination in your sleep. You were under some heavy medicine.”

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts.

You’ve never heard Vegeta apologize for anything, ever. 

Your body is moving before your mind can comprehend. You’re climbing into his hospital bed, holding onto your scarce blanket as to not totally invade his space. You tuck yourself into his side and take a deep breath.

“You were being controlled by a wizard, I know that now.” You brush your thumb against the bulging muscle of his bicep. “I’m so sorry, Vegeta. I just want you to have some peace.”

He turns, much to your surprise, and envelopes you in his arms. Your ankles cross and you hold back tears at the thought of what he was going through silently. You feel the warmth of his kiss against the top of your head, “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I didn’t mean them. I-I was...frightened.”

You tilt your head upward, the corner of your mouth grazing his jaw, “I know. I can’t even imagine.”

Vegeta swallows and brushes his thumb over the shell of your ear, lingering against the corner of your jaw. He smiles, “You got me through it. He was trying to use you against me, to tell me that you were the reason I was weakening. And yet, knowing that it was you trying to talk me out of it was the very thing that convinced me to break out of the wizard’s control and come back to my senses.”

“I-I,” you take a short breath, unsure if you want to make your admission out loud. Instead, you back pedal, “You’re important to me, Vegeta. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

He tilts your head upward and you feel his lips before you can blurt out anything else emotional. Vegeta’s palm stays against your neck, so he can feel your pulse. For some reason he needs to be sure that you’re real and that you’re safe. 

“You foul woman,” he murmurs against your lips, and you can feel the smirk in his voice. “How dare you make me fall in love with you?”

You smile in return, your body melting as he holds you close. You shrug, running your thumb over his collarbones. “I hope that won’t be a problem, Prince Vegeta?”

His eyes turn to dark, crystalline orbs that take in your every minuscule movement. Vegeta’s breath hitches, “No, little woman.” He presses a warm kiss to your lips, biting down on your lower lip with his sharp canine teeth. 

“I don’t think it will.”

a/n: I HOPE THAT YOU LOVED IT. FEEL FREE TO REQUEST MORE! SORRY TO THOSE WHO HATE ME WRITING THIS WAY BUT IDC I LOVE IT AND I’M WATCHING SUPER RIGHT NOW AND IT’S GOT ME IN MY FEELS FOR GEETS.

#vegeta #vegeta dragon ball #vegeta dragon ball super #vegeta x reader #vegeta dbs #vegeta imagine #vegeta fanfic #vegeta fanfiction #vegeta one shot #vegeta story #my writing

[lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean]

La Pomme ~ Chapter 13

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 3,800

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Early the next morning, they'd all gotten outta bed a little sluggish but showered and dressed quickly. George was moving extra slow because what little sleep she did get had been plagued by nightmares. Typically she could remember even the smallest details of her incredibly vivid dreams for hours after she awoke, but this time the only thing she could focus on was a lingering sense of panic, like she was being hunted by something dangerous.

The exhaustion ended up being a blessing, though, because Sam and George were both too tired to be awkward around each other while they got ready. As he showered, George dressed in her new clothes; the dark bootcut jeans, maroon v-neck long sleeved tee, and Friends hoodie. She gave a little knock on the bathroom door to let Sam know that the coast was clear, before sitting down to slip on her new black tennis shoes.

He emerged a few moments later dressed in a dark blue and white flannel and dark blue jeans, his wet hair slicked back and out of his face. That damn sexy beard was still there, too; still wet from the shower.

Oh my. Her eyes went wide, feeling the temperature in the room skyrocket. Sam must have caught her reaction because he looked down at himself curiously.

"What?" He wondered.

"Er--nothing! Sorry." She mumbled, quickly turning away to hide her smirk.

That's all the caffeine my libido needed.

While she fanned herself discreetly, she gathered up her things. Once she was sure she had everything--including the teddy--Sam threw on his chocolate brown jacket and they left the room, meeting up with Dean and Cas at the car. Everyone was ready to hit the road by sunrise.

They stopped at the Carrier Bistro, another Carson City gem, for a quick breakfast because Sam and George were starving. Matching their car seating arrangements, Dean and Sam sat on one side of the booth, Cas and George sat across from them. Castiel got water, George got iced tea, a waffle, and a side of eggs, Sam got an egg white omelet, and Dean, who'd already eaten nearly half the pie George bought for him, ordered some toast and a side of bacon (because a little grease is the perfect thing to top off a ton of sugar in the morning). Both brothers also ordered 'the world's largest coffee or the next best thing.'

When the waiter left, George filled them in on her adventures the night before.

"Once I left you guys, I tried taking the cab to my mom's house but no one was there. The house didn't even look the same, but I know it was the right address. Same thing for my dad's house, the house I grew up in across town, and the condo my brother recently bought. They all looked different and no one I recognized was there. So, I decided to try researching my family to see if I could track down where they were and that's when I found that." She gestured at the article she'd found about the house fire that was set on the table between them.

"That's why you went to the college?" Dean confirmed.

George seemed surprised, "Yea… how did yo-"

"It's what we do," He responded coolly, taking a sip of his coffee when the waiter dropped their drinks off.

"We tracked you down through the cab company," Sam reminded her. After a beat she remembered him mentioning it the night before, nodding affirmatively.

"Ran into Stacey," Dean interjected with a smirk, George's eyes went a little wide in surprise. "She was helpful, pointed us in the direction of the diner. But-uh, she asked us to pass on a message." He took a sip of his coffee, shooting eyes at Sam.

A faint blush creeped onto her cheeks and she chuckled nervously, avoiding Sam's gaze, "Oh?"

Sam cleared his throat nervously, "Uh, yea, she just wanted us to tell you to, uh, lose her number?" He tried to seem nonchalant and uninterested. Dean was grinning from ear to ear, staring with open curiosity at her.

Her expression was a cross between indignation and guilt as she asked, "What?! Why? What did you say to her?"

Sam looked pointedly at Dean, who was now trying to look innocent and answered, "Nothing! We said we were trying to find a missing person whose boyfriend wa-"

"You told her I have a boyfriend?! Ugh, Dean!" George laughed and rolled her eyes. The three of them were looking at her expectantly, so she explained, "Without a student ID they weren't going to let me in, so… I had to find another way," She batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly at them.

"So, what, you blinked at her?" Dean chuckled at his own joke as she reached across the table to slap his arm.

"No, I used the only resources I had at my disposal," She clarified pointedly. When they still seemed confused, she sat up straight and pushed her chest out with a clearing of her throat.

"Oohhh, I see! Your resources. Got it," Dean gave her an exaggerated wink and took another drink of his coffee.

"Yea! And now you've told her I have a boyfriend and she thinks I'm an asshole!"

"I got the impression she just thought you were confused," Dean offered helpfully.

"Oh my god! Damn it, Dean!" George laughed in annoyance.

"Why does it matter?" He laughed indignantly right back. "Were you planning on pursuing that? I think I saw a payphone back in Reno if you'd like us to drop you off on our way to Jack."

George 'grr'ed at him and shook her head, "That's not the point! I am not confused about my sexuality and I don't cheat on my partners, which--thanks to you--is now what Stacey thinks! Not exactly the kind of thing I want becoming canon."

"Relax, flirting isn't cheating," Dean waved her off flippantly.

George's nostrils flared and she smiled condescendingly, "Well, thanks for warning me about your standards, but I'm not talking about the flirting." Sam snorted loudly and tried not to laugh, clearing his throat exaggeratedly when Dean gave him a dirty look. Having paused to hold back her own laughter, she explained, "I… sort of flashed her in order to get login credentials to use the computer."

Sam and Dean jumped in surprise as the waiter walked up at that moment, dropped their food, and refilled the coffee swiftly. George, sweet smile plastered on her face, buttered and syruped her waffle in silence. Castiel seemed to be calculating the ramifications of that statement, Sam was blushing, and Dean was stunned to silence. Cutting a piece, she nodded affirmatively and then took a bite, chewing with a big, closed mouthed grin as they all processed.

"Ohhhhh! You used your resources," Dean finally said slowly and with great emphasis. Then he nodded slowly in appreciation, "Not bad," he stamped his approval before shoveling a bacon into his mouth. George blushed a bit but smiled again with a small eye roll, before tipping an imaginary hat at him. She glanced at Sam briefly to gauge his reaction, before taking another bite. His expression was indiscernible, but he looked more curious than disgusted, so that was promising.

Castiel waited for them to eat a few bites in awkward, contemplative silence before asking curiously, "You 'flashed her' what? Do you have a fake badge of some kind?"

Sam choked on his omelet and Dean snorted into his coffee. Laughing nervously, George glanced between them, suddenly seeming slightly embarrassed about the situation for the first time. Having done it was one thing, having to describe it was another.

Looking back at Castiel she answered, "Flashing is uh,... it's when you… you just kind of, you just, you lift your shirt up for a minute. Or whatever."

Castiel didn't understand, "You lift your shirt 'up?' Up where? Why is that a form of currency suitable for trade?"

It had been her literal job for the past 10 years to educate and communicate on sex, but being questioned by an angel was like going to confession on steroids. Even though his tone was purely curious, she felt inexplicably judged. And she was agnostic!

She thought about it for a moment, noting the total lack of assist from the still recovering brothers across the table and finally just stated matter of factly, "Oh fuck it, I lifted my shirt over my chest and showed her what was underneath." When he still looked confused, she clarified further, "My breasts, Castiel. I showed her my breasts. That's what flashing is. And in exchange for letting her look at my breasts, she logged me into a computer. There."

Dean took another bite of bacon to stifle his laughter after asking, "Curious, if you wanted that 'becoming canon?'" George flipped him the bird before stealing one bacon as retribution.

Castiel seemed to understand the explanation but asked, "How did you know she was interested in seeing your breasts?"

George snorted, patting his arm patronizingly, and ever-so-humbly saying, "Uh, let's just say I had a hunch," then glanced again at the brothers who both shook their heads in amusement.

Sam cleared his throat and finally found his voice again, "I think what Cas means is, ho-how did you know she was… interested in-in your chest-" Sam stuttered, glancing at Dean who snickered, "Er, I mean, not like that! I meant-"

"You meant, how did I know she was gay?" George clarified kindly, to which Sam nodded in thanks. She shrugged, "Well, I didn't for sure, but queer people can usually sense our friends." She gave Dean a discreet smirk and once over before continuing, "Based on that, and some of her more apparent interests, I took a shot. Not the worst experience, all things considered; certainly lucked out that she was cute and friendly."

No one was quite sure how to respond until Dean commented with a mouth full of toast, "I guess she was cute, if you like girls with heavy theatre makeup."

George furrowed her brow, "What? She wasn't wearing that much makeup."

"I guess that's subjective; all that pink blush everywhere was too much for my taste," He shook his head with a shrug.

George and Sam shared an annoyed eye roll and he corrected quickly, "Dean, that wasn't makeup. She had vitiligo."

"Viti-what-o?"

George swatted at him again, "Vitiligo, loser! It's a condition where you lose skin color in patches because the pigmentation cells die."

"Oh," Dean said, intrigued. He thought about it for a minute and then said, "Then you're right, she was cute. Do you still have that number?"

"Oh wow," George blurted, rubbing a hand over her face and chuckling. "Sorry guy, she was definitely a lesbian."

"Anyway!" Sam interjected to save them all from his perverted brother.

Still chucking, George picked the conversation back up on his cue, "Anyway, after the flashing she logged me into a computer and I was able to find out all about my nonexistence," She made an exaggerated sneer, as though the idea offended her. "So, mom's parents: dead in a house fire supposedly due to faulty wiring. Over on my dad's side, I had to go all the way back three generations where I discovered that my great grandfather succumbed to illness on the battlefield during WWI before he'd had any children. Other than my Aunt Lorna, who by all accounts is alive somewhere, the entire family I grew up with doesn't exist." She paused and took a sip of her drink, trying to swallow down her emotions.

"I'm sorry, George," Sam reached over and placed his hand over hers consolingly, the other two giving her sympathetic looks. She smiled softly at the touch, turning her hand over in his and squeezing in gratitude. When she noticed the raised brow on Dean's face, she cleared her throat and pulled her hand away to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I was just kind of in shock when I found everything." She paused to take a thoughtful bite of her scrambled eggs before continuing, "Not shock actually… more like, happy surprise? I was kinda relieved, if I'm honest." Sam and she shared another knowing glance before she continued, "Like, I can focus on helping you guys now because I know nothing is holding me back. I have no family to worry about. I'm completely, totally… utterly, and… 100 percent alone here," As she said it the internal struggle between relief and spiraling panic boiled up again.

Sam frowned, but Castiel was the one who offered comfort, "You're not alone, George."

"Thanks, Castiel," She sighed in frustration and put her fork down, suddenly losing her appetite. "What I mean is, I just felt this strange sense of acceptance and…" she struggled to find the right words to describe an indescribable feeling. "Purpose? It was like 'OK, my family isn't here, I don't have anyone who might be worrying about me, so now I can focus on what I'm supposed to do'. I mean I've always felt different; I never fit in much. I was always the weird kid and didn't have many friends, and holy shit my family. Ya know, I love 'em but--and this sounds bad, so excuse the obvious lack of humility here--I just always felt like the sane patient in the asylum, ya know? It--Ya know what, not the time to get into it," She had sounded like she was headed off on a tangent but pulled herself back.

"When I found all this information last night, I--I…I don't really know how to explain it," She and Sam shared a quick knowing glance before she continued, "but while I should have felt devastated, I mostly felt relief. Like I finally could breathe in all the way because I'm where I'm supposed to be? It was also confirmation that the only people I knew in this universe were the people I was already with, and already helping! Bonus," She finished with a hesitant, confused chuckle. She knew how crazy she sounded. The look Dean was giving her seemed to indicate he felt the same. "Don't ask me to explain it because I have no idea," giving a defeated shrug, she continued, "anyway, I knew you guys were going to find me soon, so I printed the article and left--not before Stacey gave me her number--and headed over to Brown Cub for your food," Dean tipped his imaginary hat to her. "Then I got the room, stripped off those crusty ass clothes, and took the best shower of my life. Then you showed up."

"What do you mean you *knew* we'd find you soon?" Castiel questioned.

"What?" She'd stolen another piece of Dean's bacon and had to dodge his swatting. "What do you mean?"

"How did you know we would find you?"

"Oh, I didn't know-know, I just...figured? I mean, like Dean said, it's what you do--the Winchesters and Castiel, ya know? You've got a certain set of skills," She cracked, winking at Sam and then shrugged, "I knew it wouldn't be long before you'd be able to track me down."

Castiel pressed, "How could we track you down? We don't even know your last name and you don't have a cell phone. How did you know we were coming?" George gave Sam and Dean a raised eyebrow, not understanding why Cas was semi-interrogating her.

Dean felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and pulled it out to see Garth calling. He excused himself from the table to answer it.

"I...I mean, I didn't know you were coming. I just-"

"Tell me more about your instincts feeling heightened? And your sense of purpose? Do you know what this 'purpose' might be?" He questioned her.

Thinking he was just being a concerned friend, George shook her head helplessly, "No, not really. Honestly, I--"

He cut her off to ask matter-of-factly, "Do you have any Enochian protection symbols on your person?"

She was confused by the question, "What, like a tattoo? No, I told you I wasn't that big of a fan--"

"Could be a tattoo, could be something burned into your skeletal structure, maybe?"

"Not that I'm aware of?" George smirked in confusion, glancing at Sam for any explanation. His feeble shrug in response offered no clarity.

"Because, when I try to read you, you're fuzzy--"

"Sorry--I'm fuzzy when you try and read me?" George looked indignant.

"Hey, we got problems." Dean had returned from his phone call and seemed agitated. "That was Garth. He joined Carol and Suzie on the recon like we asked and they saw the demon pack grab a 12 year old boy for lunch. They stormed in and nearly got themselves killed saving him."

"Jesus," George commented with a frown.

"Are they--" Sam began with concern.

Anticipating his question, Dean cut him off, "They're safe for right now but they're hurt and pretty sure the pack tailed them. They need help. I tried mom and Bobby but they're tracking something near Fresno, closer to us than them and..." Dean paused heavily, giving George an indiscernible expression.

"And?!" Sam asked impatiently.

Dean sighed, "Carol thinks she saw Jack with the demons while they were trying to escape."

"What?!" George and Sam exclaimed simultaneously. George's was far more indignant than Sam's.

"Carol says that when they went in to rescue the boy, they passed other rooms. Most were empty but she swears she saw someone who looked an awful lot like Jack in one. By the time she saw him, they were running with the kid, so she can't be a hundred percent sure b--"

"Well, I'm a hundred percent sure Carol needs her eyes checked!" George blurted out, before retracting her neck and looking apologetic, "Sorry, that was unnecessary. Carol is lovely and I'm sure it was a terrifying situation." She paused and then looked at Dean with a pleading expression, "That being said: she's WRONG! I just finished spilling my guts out to you about an identity crisis over the fact that my entire family doesn't exist! And the one good thing that came out of it is that now I know I'm meant to be here! The only answer I'm missing is why I'm here and helping you both--finding jack--that's the only answer that makes any sense. It's why I feel so strongly about going to Oregon with you. Think about it, what other reason could there possibly be for this weird ass situation if not to help you locate Jack?" Sam gulped a bit, a few suggestions running through his mind quickly. Dean was contemplating her words, weighing his options carefully. George sighed and continued, "Listen, I don't know who Carol saw, but I. Promise. You. It wasn't Jack! We need to keep going; we are headed the right way, I know it! Jack--"

"Is in danger and if we don't find him soon he could die, George," Dean sounded stern. He was irritated, but trying not to raise his voice. "We can't risk it!"

George took his new, huffy tone as a personal challenge, matching it with some added neck twists for emphasis, "Which is exactly why we need to keep going toward Oregon, because that's where he is!"

"Both of you, to your corners!" Castiel scolded suddenly, both of them looking about ready to punch the other. "Our primary goal is to find Jack and get him home safe. We have two leads and enough people to follow both. I'll go back to the motel and see if I can find a car to borrow, and head to Butte. The three of you keep following George's lead."

"Cas--"

"No arguments. Enough time has been wasted and, you're right, Dean, he's in danger. That being said," Cas cut Dean off when he tried to interrupt, "George is right, too."

"I am?" George was surprised by the support.

"She is?!" Dean was suspect.

"Yes. It's clear she feels very strongly about Jack being in Oregon and I trust her."

"I do, too," Sam agreed.

George's eyes went wide at the both of them, "You do?" 'Surprised' didn't even begin to cover it.

"Yes, I do," Castiel answered definitively. "Now, you should settle the bill and get going. If you find Jack--"

"We'll call you right away," Sam finished understandingly as he stood up from the booth to handle the check. He stepped away, leaving George to sit in a state of semi-shock, silently mulling over the concept of trust.

Dean's brow was furrowed, staring at the table intently. After a minute he nodded, addressing Cas, "I'll walk you out."

The two men began to head for the exit, and George leapt up, "Wait!" She stepped in front of Cas and looked him over, "OK, um, OK, look, I-I'm nervous about you leaving but I get it, I guess," She shot Dean a dirty look over Cas' shoulder. "Just… please be careful. Don't do anything stupid, OK? If you think to yourself 'Dean would do that!' do the opposite, yes?"

As Dean rolled his eyes, Castiel smiled kindly in response to her concern. With a gentle nod he assured, "I'll be careful. I think it goes without saying that I want you all," he looked at Dean over his shoulder pointedly, "to do the same."

George nodded in agreement and hesitated before throwing her arms around him and hugging tightly. Cas stood in place, receiving her hug awkwardly. Not until George suggested he hug back did he carefully lift his arms and pat her on the back quickly. When she let go, she gave him a nervous grimace and the two men left.

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