Sometimes he forgets until he tells himself to remember. This was all about Dean. There is nothing he won't do for him, and as Bela slips the ring off her finger, his hand all but trembles in the waiting. It feels like more than want.
More than need, even.
"Yeah," he says, letting out a low breath. "All this time, all we were looking for..."
"Sometimes the most important things come in the smallest packages."
Or the biggest ones. She takes the ring off and places it in his palm, closing his fingers around it. There's a part of her that tells her that she should keep it, just in case, especially given her line of work, but a deal is a deal, and this isn't one she's going to break.
Sam swallows thickly, his fingers brushing against hers as the ring settles on the weight of his palm.
"For what?" he asks, his voice surprisingly low.
As far as Sam is concerned, he didn't do much. At least, not as much as he'd have liked to. Bela was the one that came to him with an answer. His research skills and dogged determination alone wouldn't have been enough to save Dean.
Sam's done a lot for for her than most people have. He's been there for her, which she's never really had either. She smiles at him softly, understanding why he may not get it - even with the way they've been working together, there's so little he still knows about her.
"For helping me." She places her hand over his gently. "For trusting me. Especially when you have every reason not to."
If it had been her, she would have turned him away a long time ago.
"I was hoping you would prove me wrong," Sam says in a moment of rare honesty.
He's sometimes more empathetic than is good for him, understands what he doesn't always want to understand, and a part of him had been fighting it every step of the way until he didn't. Until he doesn't, and he's not sure what to make of that yet.
Her head tips to the side as she considers him, a man with too much of capacity to care, in contrast to her, a woman who has a hard time learning how. Her eyes watch him curiously for a moment, contemplating the question that she isn't sure she wants to know the answer to.
"Well?" she asks softly, her eyebrows climbing in an amused gesture. "Do I pass?"
The expression on Bela's face vaguely makes his lip curl up into a smirk.
"The jury's still out there on that one," he says with a straight face, mostly because he isn't sure he wants to know the answer, either. (He already knows the answer, or he wouldn't still be here. He wouldn't care.)
She chuckles softly at that, before nodding. Fair enough. She knows she has a lot more to make up for, but she hopes that this at least gains her some ground.
"Well. When they come back, you'll have to let me know."
Because she'd be very curious to know. But in the mean time ...
"I don't know about you, but I could use a drink." Or ten.
Sam joins her, chuckling quietly and ducking his head.
A strange, unfamiliar warmth floods his cheeks, and he tells himself it's nothing. When he looks back up again, the (dimpled) smile is still faintly curved on his lips. "You want to go out for them or do you want me to bring them to you?"
After the night she's had, Sam won't blame her if she doesn't want to leave the room.
... After the night she's had, Sam also wouldn't blame her if she wanted to be anywhere but here.
She considers that for a moment, as both option were entirely tempting. She even had her own wine here, but she could go for something a little stronger - and somewhere not here. It's been a long time since she's been out in the world without the end of her life hanging over her head.
"Go out," she nods. "I think I know just the place."
Sam was already leaning toward that direction himself, so he brings himself to his full (freakishly tall) height and slips back into his jacket. Opening the door and standing back so that Bela can walk through first, he motions with his hand.
"Lead the way," he says. He is still relatively new to Mystic Falls, however small the town is. The only place he'd have thought of is the Grill, and Alaric and Dean have that market cornered.
They do, which is why Bela has taken the time to seek out alternate means of libations while she's been in town. She wanted to avoid Dean as much as possible, so she tracked down an establishment that was a bit higher class.
As she makes her way inside, she glances around for a moment, before turning back to him. "Table or bar?"
Sam points to a table at the far back, a booth in the shape of a semi-circle. The bar won't give them as much privacy, and Sam's already spotted a few patrons of the establishment crowding up the counter. He's much better on a one-on-one setting.
"Table it is," she nods, weaving her way through the crowd to the table indicated. Once she gets there, she slides into the empty space, making her way into the middle so that he has space to slide in next to her.
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no subject
Sometimes he forgets until he tells himself to remember. This was all about Dean. There is nothing he won't do for him, and as Bela slips the ring off her finger, his hand all but trembles in the waiting. It feels like more than want.
More than need, even.
"Yeah," he says, letting out a low breath. "All this time, all we were looking for..."
It was this tiny little ring.
no subject
Or the biggest ones. She takes the ring off and places it in his palm, closing his fingers around it. There's a part of her that tells her that she should keep it, just in case, especially given her line of work, but a deal is a deal, and this isn't one she's going to break.
Not with him.
"Thank you, Sam."
no subject
"For what?" he asks, his voice surprisingly low.
As far as Sam is concerned, he didn't do much. At least, not as much as he'd have liked to. Bela was the one that came to him with an answer. His research skills and dogged determination alone wouldn't have been enough to save Dean.
To save her.
no subject
"For helping me." She places her hand over his gently. "For trusting me. Especially when you have every reason not to."
If it had been her, she would have turned him away a long time ago.
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He's sometimes more empathetic than is good for him, understands what he doesn't always want to understand, and a part of him had been fighting it every step of the way until he didn't. Until he doesn't, and he's not sure what to make of that yet.
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"Well?" she asks softly, her eyebrows climbing in an amused gesture. "Do I pass?"
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"The jury's still out there on that one," he says with a straight face, mostly because he isn't sure he wants to know the answer, either. (He already knows the answer, or he wouldn't still be here. He wouldn't care.)
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"Well. When they come back, you'll have to let me know."
Because she'd be very curious to know. But in the mean time ...
"I don't know about you, but I could use a drink." Or ten.
omg that icon /shallow
A strange, unfamiliar warmth floods his cheeks, and he tells himself it's nothing. When he looks back up again, the (dimpled) smile is still faintly curved on his lips. "You want to go out for them or do you want me to bring them to you?"
After the night she's had, Sam won't blame her if she doesn't want to leave the room.
... After the night she's had, Sam also wouldn't blame her if she wanted to be anywhere but here.
lauren cohan is too pretty for this world
"Go out," she nods. "I think I know just the place."
correct
"Lead the way," he says. He is still relatively new to Mystic Falls, however small the town is. The only place he'd have thought of is the Grill, and Alaric and Dean have that market cornered.
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As she makes her way inside, she glances around for a moment, before turning back to him. "Table or bar?"
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Sam points to a table at the far back, a booth in the shape of a semi-circle. The bar won't give them as much privacy, and Sam's already spotted a few patrons of the establishment crowding up the counter. He's much better on a one-on-one setting.
no subject