twentysomething

Title: Wild, Wild West Coast

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sam/Girl!Gabriel

Summary: "He'd met her on the first day of Professor Harvelle's Feminist Studies 101."

Length: 3400 wordsish.

Warnings: Sweet Sammy Winchester losing his virginity to a woman of ill-repute.

Notes: In my eternal quest to empty out my gmail drafts folder, I'm spamming my flist tonight. There's probably more weird stuff to come, but this was mostly merelyn and me, indulging in our love of a) genderbending, b) the unnatural, delicious love of college aus.


Gabrielle is one of those girls that moms watch disapprovingly and then tell their daughters that's what happens when you don't save yourself for marriage.

Sam had told her that she didn't have to express herself sexually in order to gain attention, five minutes into a loud discussion about waxing for the feeling down there that had left almost every guy in the student union crossing their legs shiftily. Gabrielle had just laughed at him and told him to be happy she was using her sexual agency and not letting the slut shamers get her down. And that had been the last conversation they'd had on the subject, because really, what could Sam say to that?

He'd met her on the first day of Professor Harvelle's Feminist Studies 101. He'd been sitting in the middle of the lecture hall- because Dean had told him if he sat in the front row he'd know and shave his head. He'd been surrounded by empty seats, and Sam had started to wonder if he smelled or something until this short, wild-haired blonde had popped herself next to him, all short skirt and peachy-pale legs.

"So, no one's sitting next to you because they think you're here to pick up chicks. They're strong womyn, you know," she'd chirped at him, and Sam heard the 'y' in 'womyn' perfectly, somehow. She smelled like cotton candy and peppermints. He knows he should have said something like "I'm not" or "I've read The Feminine Mystique five times," but it's not what happened.

"Then why are you sitting next to me?" Sam had asked blankly. She'd grinned, mischievous and pleased.

"Because I'm here to pick up the guys who are here to pick up chicks." she'd proclaimed happily, eying Sam like Dean eyes vintage cars. She'd introduced herself as Gabrielle Bright and when Sam had protested he had a girlfriend, she'd just shrugged philosophically and decided to be his best friend.

And Sam's certainly not a caveman- but watching the ultimate frisbee game move closer and closer to where Gabrielle is laying out in the late April sun, bikini top and the shortest pair of madras shorts Sam's ever seen, two copies of Cosmo and her stupid purple sunglasses on- makes Sam irrationally protective and pissy. So he marches over and hovers.

Gabrielle opens one lazy eye under the gray lenses.

"I know you block the sun out most everywhere you go, but do you have to do it right over where I'm trying to tan? It's a delicate process, Sam, do you understand how easily I burn?" she complains, wrinkling her pert nose up at him. Sam doesn't know if he'd call her beautiful, outside of recitals, where she transcends something- everything- and just moves. But she's well, vivacious and fun, the sun picking out the gold in her hair and the definition of her lean muscles.

Jess had broken up with him over the distance and when she'd told him shyly, nervously, a month or two later that she maybe liked someone new, Sam had felt terrible and wondered if whoever he was had been there all along. He'd been irritable and terrible to everyone until Gabrielle had dragged him out and gotten him drunk and let him cry and snot all over her and she'd laughed at him and called him a girl as she stroked his hair when he threw up.

And the next morning when he'd woken up on her couch with a bottle of water in his hand and three tylenol on her messy coffee table, he'd wondered if he hadn't had someone there all along, too.

And despite the fact that Gabrielle hits on anything that moves, it's been three weeks since that night and Sam's getting a little crazy.

"Maybe I just don't want you to get skin cancer," Sam tries, but obligingly sits down on the edge of her blanket, glaring at the frisbee guys. Gabrielle rolls her eyes.

"Maybe I don't want to have a Vitamin D deficiency," she suggests. Sam just laughs, because no matter what, she always wins. "Also, stop scaring the frisbee guys, I was watching that." Sam tries not to sulk.

"You're wearing too much clothing for this beach blanket party, Sammy, either strip down or get up," Tony says, all terrible- probably fake- English accent and waggling dark eyebrows. Crowley is Gabrielle's most common dance partner and a huge flirt and most likely all hands and Sam has never liked him. He's probably just pretending to be gay to sleep with unsuspecting women.

"Tony, quit hitting on Sam. He cries, after." Gabrielle barks at him, but there's a curl of mean amusement in the corner of her mouth that Sam- unfortunately- really likes.

"I don't cry," Sam mutters. Crowley laughs, wearing a really inappropriate pair of black shorts- if they can be called shorts, Sam thinks Lady Gaga wore them first- and lays out in a measured, "artful" sprawl.

"Sam, go away. I can hear you thinking, it ruins my terrible indulgence of tanning in the middle of the day." Gabrielle instructs, poking at his thigh lazily with her bright pink-painted toes. "I'll meet you in the dining hall at 6, we're having dinner."

"We are?" Sam asks, trying to remember if they'd talked about it and he just forgot to put it in his day planner. Gabrielle favors him with an easy smile.

"Yes, we are. Get on the short bus, Winchester." she tells him, settling her head back down on her folded up t-shirt and closing her eyes beneath her sunglasses. Crowley smirks as Sam slinks off and Sam wishes he was Dean so he could be more of a dick to Crowley.

It's probably a blessing in disguise, because Sam has a ton of reading, and he can guarantee it wouldn't have gotten done with the distraction of Gabrielle, radiating heat and practically naked next to him. So he settles in to one of the not quite comfortable chairs in the union and doesn't realize an hour has passed until Gabrielle clears her throat loudly, knocking the side of her shitty tote against his head.

"Where's Crowley?" Sam asks, warily. Gabrielle rolls her eyes.

"He's seducing a freshman in Inter Varsity, relax." she says, white t-shirt worn and practically transparent over her terrible bright orange bikini. Her cheeks are faintly pink and there's a faint sheen of sweat along her neck- she's backlit by the setting sun and Sam has an embarrassing amount of thoughts about the whole picture.

"C'mon, Sam, I'm dying." she whines, dragging him toward the cafeteria. Because they're predictable, he gets a salad and she makes a waffle, covered in butter and syrup and powdered sugar.

Which means that when he pretty much loses his mind in the middle of Gabrielle telling a story about the frisbee guys and leans across the table and kisses her, her mouth is sweet and sticky, like he's always imagined.

Gabrielle stares at him, her lips pink and slick and slightly open.

"Um," Sam mumbles, and he can feels his ears turning bright fucking red. "I've just- I've been meaning to do that for a while," He's trying to think how he's going to get himself out of this, when Gabrielle freaking lunges across the table and kisses the ever-loving hell out of him.

"You idiot, you idiot," she hisses into his mouth, wet and lush. "I've been waiting two years for that and you do it while I have waffle mouth?" Sam just laughs and kisses her again.

"I like your waffle mouth," he protests, feeling unaccountably giddy and amused. Gabrielle frowns and narrows her eyes at him.

"We're done with dinner, come on, we're going to someone's place and making out for like a month, I don't care, come on," Gabrielle says flatly. Sam just grins and lets her manhandle him out and into the parking lot beside the union, but he stops her there, tugging her close, and she's just so short that he laughs as he bends down to kiss her and she practically goes on point to meet him.

"Stop that, I'm vertically challenged," she mock-pouts and Sam has to kiss her again, because he can.

"Have you really wanted to kiss me for two years?" he asks her, breathless and happy. Gabrielle laughs, sudden and cheerful as she slips a hand under the edge of his t-shirt, running a smooth thumb against his hipbone, just hard enough not to tickle.

"Sam, I wanted to climb you like a tree the moment I saw you," she says and the tips of her fingers sneak under the waistband of his shorts. Sam is very suddenly on board with her plan.

"Okay, your apartment, right now," he mutters, forcibly distancing himself. Gabrielle just smiles- dirty and knowing- and shrugs.

"Yours is closer," she points out, but Adam was there when Sam had left, so. He just shakes his head.

"Yours is emptier," he counters and she concedes the point with a tilt of her head.

"Yeah, okay, plus, I'm kind of loud, so," she agrees and oh, God. She smirks, like she knows exactly what he's thinking about, and well, Gabrielle probably does.

Which makes Sam abruptly nervous- because his "experience" is some teenaged fumbling with Jess and his right hand, and that's pretty much it. And Gabrielle's not a slut- but she's comfortable in her own body, which he's sure translates to comfortable with a lot of things.

She rolls her eyes like she's a mind reader.

"I'll be gentle," she teases, reaching all the way up to drag his mouth against hers, scraping a bite against his lower lip that makes him think she really won't be- and that's okay, that's more than okay. "Now, please quit thinking about this and let me seduce you in the comfort of my own home."

And okay, yeah, that's a pretty compelling picture.

But Sam can apparently surprise even himself, because the second there's a door between them and the rest of society, he scoops Gabrielle up, pressing her against the wall so he can just kiss her and kiss her. She hums enthusiastically into his mouth and wraps her stupidly great legs around him to keep herself up.

"I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty easy," Gabrielle breathes into Sam's mouth. "So, if you want to have sex, I would really like to have sex right now." Sam's entire body is green for go ahead, but he pauses for a second.

"On the first date?" he finally asks. Gabrielle rolls her eyes again.

"Sam, that was not our first date, that was not even our third date, that was like our thousandth date, and I would really like to pressure you into having sex with me. Everyone's doing it. We have to, or it'll back up. I'm on the pill. What else do you need to hear?" she complains, pausing to suck a masterful hickey on his neck.

John Winchester had told him to respect women, to let them set the boundaries.

Fuck it.

He pulls her closer and carries her off in the direction of her bedroom, Gabrielle laughing cheerfully.

"Don't worry, when you cry afterwards because you weren't ready, I'll hold you." she teases, which- why does everyone think he's some sort of ascetic hermit monk prude? Gabrielle just laughs at his vaguely offended expression.

"Baby, I'm just kidding." she soothes, pressing a kiss to the top of his nose. "After all, if you can remember your name after I'm done with you, I'm going to be extremely disappointed." Sam bites back a groan and drops her on the bed. Gabrielle sits up on her elbows.

"You have no idea how excited I am to find out if you're proportional," she says, staring directly at his crotch and Sam can't help but blush supernova red all over. Because, well, he is, but Jesus. "Screw it, come here, I'm going to unwrap you. Happy Hannukah, Gabrielle."

Sam can't help but laugh as he dutifully lifts his arms so that she can pull off his t-shirt. Gabrielle stares avidly, which Sam thinks is ridiculous, because he does keep in shape- better than average shape, true- but she hangs out with dancer guys who are like, one solid muscle.

"I'm going to eat you," she mumbles, and tugs Sam down by his belt. And okay, yeah, this was a great idea- Gabrielle pushes him down, flinging a leg over his hip to straddle him easily. She rucks her t-shirt up, grins and then pulls it over her head, leaving her in her orange bikini top again.

"Hi," she says, cheerfully, leaning over to kiss him again. "I'm going to take off your pants now." Sam opens his mouth to say something but Gabrielle deliberately brushes the palm of her hand over his dick as she unbuckles the belt and it trails off in a groan. The expression on her face as she pulls his pants and boxers down in one swift jerk is, well- hungry.

"I hope you're not disappointed," Sam squeaks out, aiming for smooth and landing so far into embarrassingly honest. Gabrielle looks smug.

"God, you're like a shower and a grower, this is awesome," she says, bending near in half to puff a little breath, damp and hot over the head of his dick. Sam slams his head back into the pillows. Gabrielle just purrs amusement into the ticklish skin between his hip and his thigh, using the involuntary twitch of his hips to draw his clothes out from under him, and holy crap, Sam is naked, he's naked with a girl. Gabrielle smiles at him.

"A giant hand, Sam?" she asks, looking down at her still- unfortunately- clothed body. Sam fumbles for the string of the bikini, running his palm over her shoulder blade. Gabrielle arches into the touch, and- and- wow. He can't help but flip them, so he can toss the flimsy fabric across the room and pin her, squirming against him, carefully cupping her breast.

"You're so, so-" Sam breaks off, watching Gabrielle bite her lip as Sam brushes his thumb carefully over her rosy pink nipple. "God, you're beautiful." Sam's hands, like the rest of him, are huge, so it's easy for him to cover her breast with the hand that's not holding him up, to watch the way she rises up under his hands.

"Save the compliments for after, right now I just want this," she says, wrapping her hand firmly around his dick. "In me." Sam groans loosely again, because this is going to go really fast if she doesn't stop saying shit like that. And contrary to public belief, Sam is enough of a man to have watched more than enough porn to figure out how this goes. He manages to drag the shorts and bikini bottom down enough for Gabrielle to kick them off the bed, before he slips his hand down to curiously run a finger down her slit.

Gabrielle makes this noise like she's been pinched, practically writhing under him as he traces a finger over her slick folds. She's so warm, and Sam is totally going to lose his shit any second now, but he can't stop watching the way Gabrielle pants and sighs as he rubs his thumb hesitantly under her clit.

"Is this- you're- this is okay right?" Sam blurts out, a little validated when she gasps before laughing.

"Oh, Sam, you have no idea how okay this is, are your hands always this warm?" she asks vaguely, 'warm' trailing off into a moan. "Oh, don't answer that, just seriously, Sam, fuck me, I'm dying here." Sam pauses, because really, this close to her, he's like, seven times bigger than her, and there just- wasn't a lot of foreplay.

"Are you sure, I mean, I'm kind of- big," Sam finishes lamely and Gabrielle just laughs again, grabbing his hips and pulling him flush against her, his dick pressed tightly between them.

"Babe, that's an understatement," she teases. Gabrielle lets go of his hip to fish around in the bedside drawer, coming up with a condom after a second or two of loose swearing. Sam's hands are sort of shaking, but Gabrielle just smiles at him, familiar and mischievous as she unrolls the condom onto his dick in one smooth sweep. "Now, aren't you tired of carrying that V card around?"

"It's never bothered me," Sam says, truthfully, before leaning down to kiss her, and her mouth is still sweet and hot. "But I'll let you hang on to it for me." And before she can say something flippant, Sam pushes in, slow, but steady, and Gabrielle lets out these little hitching breaths and broken laughs.

"Sam, Sam," she mumbles, clawing at his hips, dragging him in. And every time she laughs, he can feel all the muscles in her contract and he is not going to last. "Sam, seriously, move, just, please."

"Gabrielle, I would really like this to go for longer than a minute, so just-" Sam grits out. "Give me a second." Gabrielle sweetly bats her eyelashes at him before she grinds up against him, hard.

"God!" Sam shouts, hand clenching in the sheets. Gabrielle laughs, high and amused and pulls him against her, her breasts pressed against his chest hot and slick. She bites his collarbone sharply.

"Stop thinking about the Yanni soundtrack you're missing and just do what comes naturally," she advises, running a hand up into his hair and tugging lightly. Sam rolls his eyes.

"What, like this?" he asks, driving his hips into hers suddenly. Gabrielle hand tightens convulsively in his hair.

"Yes," she answers, low and pleased, her golden brown eyes hazy and unfocused. Sam frowns.

"What, really?" he repeats, and don't get him wrong, it feels amazing, but someone could be stabbing him in the face right now and he'd still feel amazing. Gabrielle hisses and clutches at him.

"Yes, fucking really, Sam, please," she begs, kissing him hard. Sam sort of mentally shrugs and throws pretty much he's ever anticipated about sex out the window and lets himself build a fast, insane rhythm that has Gabrielle making these insane, mercilessly sexy noises underneath him. He's also about 2.5 seconds from losing it entirely and coming, and he can feel his hips start to stutter and holy fuck- he might actually black out, because Gabrielle is shaking and coming apart under him, gasping and swearing and she's so tight that Sam is gone.

"Oh," Sam finally manages, his face buried half in her shoulder, half against the sheets, breathing like he's been running for days. Gabrielle murmurs this drowsy noise of assent.

"Yeah, I liked it," she agrees, scraping a lazy bite of a kiss on his neck.

"That was-" Sam tries, but he's coming up blank with appropriately mind-blown adjectives. Or nouns. Or words, period.

"Yep," she agrees further, stretching loosely with this rumbling purr of appreciation. Sam realizes he's probably crushing her, so he rolls over, dragging her sort of with him with an arm around her tiny waist. Gabrielle carefully pulls off the condom, knotting it and throwing it somewhere, which Sam is grateful for, because he thinks rolling over was about all he'll ever manage.

But this- this feels right, laying here with Gabrielle tucked against him, sweaty and breathless and satiated. He's always sort of thought of sex as a means to an end- children, closeness, something- but this just feels right. And- oh. Oh.

"Uh, in the interest of full disclosure," Sam mumbles quietly, but Gabrielle snaps open one amber eye. "I'm kind of in love with you." Gabrielle just laughs at him helplessly.

"You're such a moron," she mutters against his mouth, her abused-looking pink lips pressing against his so softly. "You're not supposed to say it in bed." Sam opens his mouth to apologize, but Gabrielle just kisses him again.

"You are so lucky I've been so terribly in love with you for like... forever," Gabrielle says, looking fond and her blond hair is rumpled into a fuzzy halo around her head. Sam kisses her neck, just a little close-mouthed press.

"I am," he agrees, pulling her tight against him. Gabrielle nods sleepily before whispering into his collarbone.

"And just so you know, I'm going to wake us up in two hours to have more sex. I'm not done with you yet."