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Deanna woke up to Sam’s hair tickling her nose, and she sneezed involuntarily, spraying spittle onto her sister’s back. Sam stirred, sighing in her sleep and turning over so that they were face to face. She was warm and huge and Deanna had this fuzzy, sleep-softened urge to touch her face. So she did, stroking the pad of her thumb over Sam’s jawline and sitting up to look at her.
It was then that she remembered that they’d fallen asleep outside, surrounded by itchy grass and bugs and whatever other little fuckers were crawling around out there, and she shook her head to clear it of its muddiness. There was a bottle lodged in between them, and Deanna flung it out into the tall grass, arm aching from where Sam had been sleeping on it.
Her mouth tasted like bourbon-flavored ass, and their motel wasn’t too far down the road, so she should probably kick Sam awake and have them migrate to a bedroom they didn’t have to share with the cicadas. But Sam always looked so peaceful when she was sleeping, pink mouth parted and face contented and unlined, and Deanna decided to let her be, for once.
She concentrated instead on getting the sweat-sticky grass out of her bra, after which she scattered it on Sam’s hair out of obligation. It was still darker than a demon’s asshole outside, the only light coming from the flickering streetlight a couple feet away and from the handful of fireflies bobbing about overhead. Bored, Deanna nudged at Sam’s shoulder after a couple minutes, giving up on being noble and matronly.
"Sammy. Hey. Saaaaam." Sam kept her eyes screwed shut even after Deanna gave her a rough shove, brow crinkling with annoyance. Deanna sucked on her index finger, slicking it with spit, and trailed it purposefully down Sam’s cheek.
"Holy fucking—I swear to god,” Sam spluttered, wide awake and getting up to whack Deanna in the arm. “Germaphobe,” Deanna snickered, rubbing at the sore spot and grinning wide when Sam swiped at her cheek and cleaned her hand off on Deanna’s shirt.
”Keep your bodily fluids to yourself, for the millionth time. It’s amazing I haven’t built up a tolerance for how gross you are.”
"You love me, bitch," Deanna said, standing up and dusting the seat of her jeans off before she held out a hand to Sam. When she hauled her up, Sam swayed into Deanna, losing her balance and nearly knocking them both to the ground all over again. "Woah, sorry," Sam winced, steadying herself and keeping a hand at Deanna’s elbow. "You need to stop getting me drunk."
"I’ll never get sick of seeing you cry over the lyrics to Mr. Roboto, so. Don’t count on it.” Sam grimaced at her before giving herself an obligatory pat-down. “Fuck. Lost my wallet.” She bent over and began to paw at the grass, fumbling blindly with her ass pointed at Deanna. It was kind of an irresistible target. ”Don’t even think about it,” Sam barked, “Or I’ll put neon hair dye in your shampoo.”
"There’s a word for people like you, Samantha."
"Shut up." Sam straightened to her full freakish height and rubbed at the back of her neck wearily. "Should we just come back for it later? I’m exhausted."
"Mm, I dunno. I kinda like this field," Deanna said, and her fingers ended up trailing through the hairs at the nape of Sam’s neck.
"Deanna?"
"Huh."
Sam’s eyebrows were knitted together sort of anxiously, and all Deanna knew was that she was sick of seeing that look on Sam’s face. “Relax,” She breathed, and flopped backward into the grass again, tugging on Sam’s hands to indicate that she should do the same.
Sam complied, tentatively lying on her back next to Deanna. “What’s up with you? I thought we were gonna head back.”
Deanna poked her in the nose, making her blink. “Changed my mind. It’s nice out here, don’t you think?” There was a slight breeze rifling trough their hair, and though the stars weren’t visible, the moon hung huge and yellow over them, limning individual blades of grass and catching in Sam’s eyes when she glanced up. “I’m pretty sure I puked somewhere around here,” Sam muttered to herself with a suspicious survey of the ground, and Deanna moved an inch closer and kissed her on the mouth.
It tasted sour, stale beer and unbrushed teeth and Deanna’s mouth probably wasn’t the pinnacle of freshness right now, either, but she flushed hot to the ends of her toes anyway, every part of her focused on the soft touch of Sam’s lips.
”Wait, wait,” Sam gasped, breaking away with both palms flat above Deanna’s breasts. Her whole face was red, as if they’d done much more than kiss. “What’re you—I mean, are you sure…” That anxious look that Deanna hated was twisting her features again. Deanna brushed a thumb over her cheekbone, and then across her bottom lip, and when she fitted their bodies tighter together, she could feel Sam’s racing heartbeat through her seven layers of shirts.
“Relax,” Deanna repeated, authoritative, but she gave Sam more than enough time to protest when she lifted herself up so that she was hovering over Sam, arms framing her head. She began to lean down, slow and careful, and Sam made an impatient noise in the back of her throat and bridged the remaining distance between them, pulling Deanna down to her with a loose fist tangled in her long hair. They kissed for ages, eyes closed and lungs a little tight, Deanna with a hand cupped over Sam’s angular face, Sam with her fingers tucked into Deanna’s back pockets.
Moonlit night, beer and liquor bottles strewn about, nothing but ambiance-tinted silence for miles; it was pretty much straight out of a hokey teen romance movie.
Except for the part where the teenagers in question were ghost-busting sisters, and where one of them wasn’t even gay, or at least she hadn’t thought she was before she started catching herself thinking about her not-so-little sister’s toned arms, and her fucking kaleidoscope eyes, and how those disgusting ginger-flavored Altoids she liked so much would taste on her tongue. Dad would fucking murder Deanna if he ever found out, and that should have been a mood-killing thought, but Sam was Sam and Deanna could probably stay like this all night, wrapped up in her sister’s long, long limbs.
"Dee," Sam said on an exhale, just as Deanna was groping clumsily at her bra. "Don’t talk, you’ll ruin it." Sam groaned and cuffed her gently on the side of her head. Deanna smiled, tucked a kiss into the dip of her neck before going back to work on the impenetrable bra. "I just—I love you," Sam whispered, eyeballs flickering under closed lids. "Love you too, twerp," Deanna said, snapping Sam’s bra strap on impulse.
"No, not like…"
Sam flipped them over and kissed Deanna breathless, broad hands bracketing her waist, and then her mouth was elsewhere, on Deanna’s forehead and her collarbone and her bare hip.
"Shit, Sam—"
"Shh. You’ll ruin it." Before Deanna could flick her in the chin, Sam sucked Deanna’s finger into her mouth, laughing at the scandalized look on Deanna’s face.
"Full circle," She said, showing off her dimples and her perfect teeth. Her bangs were a sweaty mess, hanging off her forehead, the collar of her ugly plaid shirt stretched wide and her bra peeking out from under it. Deanna sort of wanted to bury her face in her chest and fall asleep like that.
"Wanna continue this at the motel?" Deanna asked, fluttering her eyelashes suggestively. Sam looked suddenly shy, gazing off to the side and simply nodding in answer. Deanna pulled her up off the ground with a grunt and then didn’t retract her hand, tugging Sam along behind her with a spring in her step.
She was almost tempted to skip all the way to the motel, which would have made them look even weirder than they surely did now, disheveled and flushed and covered in grass, palms linked.
As it turned out, Sam’s clothes were halfway off before they even made it into their room.