Who: Sam and Dante What: Dreaming Where: Sam’s dreams When: Earlier today Warnings: General creeperness, kissing, and thrown chairs. Notes: Sam protests the use of her sole snogging icon.
Since Rory had saved her, Sam had only slept during the day. The change had been easy enough, wrapping up loose ends and becoming a so-called creature of the night. She found she slept better during the day, without any need to worry about Rory coming or going, or anything else. No school, just work which was limited to night, and the occasional grocery trip. And of course, searching for clues on Freddie.
Today, Sam wasn’t aware that she was dreaming, only crashing on her bed after a late shift with Lily. She’d snuggled under her covers and fallen asleep instantly, forgetting the real world and becoming lost in the dreams. When she finally became aware of herself again, Sam was in a place she didn’t recognize for a reason she couldn’t remember. Hovering at the edge of a large room, decorated with draped curtains and scattered with people in varying states of undress, she felt unsettled. She didn’t fit in with this lush room; the lack of eye contact reinforced that.
Her hands folded in the skirt of her dress - she glanced down, taking in white, gauzy fabric that extended from her hips. A faint frown remained on her face as she swished her hips once. It made a shooshing sound, barely over the noise in the room. It was fairy-tale like, meant for a princess. For that reason alone, Sam felt unsettled in it. She didn’t want to be a princess, even if she didn’t know why.
Still, something compelled her from ripping it off - whether it be the embarrassment in a room full of adults or the slow, laziness which seemed to filter the dream. Things seemed as hazy as her memory and she watched the crowd, gliding forward - unsure of who or what she was looking for, but only that she was. Dante had tried to break his nocturnal habits, but there were some times when he gave in and allowed himself to stay awake all night, as though he were going out on a job even though there was no telling how long it would be before the group was back together. Of course, that led to sleeping during the day, and at first he’d tried to avoid that since it would hinder his chances of running into Sam.
Eventually, though, he’d stopped seeing Sam during the day, and started seeing her around at night. He wondered what his pretty little Sam was up to, but she’d learned to be a bit sneakier, and he never knew exactly when he should be out to catch her. There’d been no word since she’d said she’d accept his offer, and he was biding his time until he could find one of the men he’d worked with who would be willing or stupid enough to tell some lies for him. In the meantime, he slept when he pleased and tried to figure out a way to approach her without any news to offer.
His dreams had been fairly tame, and so when he found himself in a crowded ballroom wearing tights that he felt should have been much more uncomfortable than they were and a long, fancy tunic of some sort, it was a welcome interruption to the boredom. He slipped through the room, trying to catch a glimpse of the one he knew would have to be there, the girl who his thoughts always centered on.
He saw her before she saw him, and took a moment to admire how very lovely she was. The dress suited her, though he knew she wouldn’t like to hear it. He hovered just within sight of her, waiting to see if he would catch her eye. Once he had, he would decide whether or not he should slip away and let her be the one to chase. Sam remained on the outskirts of the crowd, not entering the fray but refusing to back away either. After dodging a man who’s arm swept across her back, she switched to walking backwards - bumping into a woman who’s decolletage spilled out of the top of her dress. Sam’s face contorted in confusion, before mumbling an apology and moving a way. A bare hand went to her hair - set in curls, like her mother (mother?) would have done.
It was then she saw him.
She had been looking, just a bit, for someone or something though she didn’t know what. Him, without a name, and familiar was unexpected though. But she knew it was him. Just as much as she knew that if she ran off now, she’d be a coward.
Her chin went up, just a bit, before she began to weave through the crowd. It was shifting, music picking up and carrying people between her and him in lazy waltz steps. Her lips pressed together and her hands went up, trying to fight the unsettling feeling in her stomach. Dante smiled at her a moment longer, then ducked between two dancing couples to escape her. He moved just far enough to be out of sight, then stopped to find her again in the crowd. Just a little further away, and he’d wait until she saw him again, and then move once more. Just a little game of cat and mouse, and if feeling as though she was the cat would make her feel better, he didn’t mind at all.
The elegantly dressed people gave him room to move, and Dante didn’t question why they would. It was his dream, after all. Of course they would move for him. The important thing was that they kept a bit of space between himself and Sam, just for a little longer, so that by the time she reached him the anticipation would be high. Her mouth turned downwards as he slipped out of sight - there one moment gone the next. There was some line of a story escaping her, involving rabbits and goons, but she couldn’t place it. Frown deepening she moved deeper into the crowd. Her skirt might have been voluminous but it didn’t clear the way much. These dancers weren’t here for her or here to follow her commands. Making things more difficult appeared to be their goal.
A small, frustrated sound escaped her as attempted to weave through the crowd. Every now and then she thought she’d catch a glimpse of blond hair - she’d move closer and he’d be gone again. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. Soon she was actively pushing her way through, barely managing apologies as she seemed to be moving closer. By the time she arrived, Dante was ready for her. He’d found a white rose, seemingly out of thin air, and he twirled the stem between his fingers as he leaned casually against a pillar at one side of the room, just outside the press of the crowd.
The smile on his face was small, and its meaning not quite clear to the casual observer. That was how Dante meant for it to be, of course. This time, he held still when Sam drew closer. Moving forward, she didn’t expect for him to stop this time. He hadn’t the countless times so far - what would change it now? It didn’t stop her quiet determination, stepping forward and using her wide skirts to clear the path. Finding him, paused and seemingly waiting made her hesitate.
Why had she followed again? She didn’t know and it bothered her as much as him not stopping for her did.
Sam took a deep breath, before closing the distance - leaving only inches between them. Her head cocked to the side, looking up. No words for now; somehow she knew that. Dante’s smile grew, just a fraction, and he held out the rose to her silently, careful of the thorns himself. Though he’d thought at first to stick it in her hair, some strange sort of dream logic made him reconsider. He didn’t know whether she’d take the flower, or ignore it and start asking questions about her brother and the promises he’d made. Perhaps, for just once, she’d let herself enjoy the moment. In the same, shifty logic of dreams, Sam couldn’t remember who the man was exactly nor anything beyond what happened here. She realized, somehow that this was wrong, but couldn’t be driven enough to think about it seriously. What mattered right now was why she was drawn towards him and had to seek him out. There had to be a reason.
As he held out the rose, she frowned once more. There was a hint, a whisper in the back of her mind not to take it. Where it came from she didn’t know. Stupid thought. She could take a flower, couldn’t she? What harm could that do?
She reached for it, hand closing around the stem just below his hands. Fingers brushed against his for a moment, before she was aware of the thorns digging into her palm. She bit her lip but didn’t let go. Dante kept his eyes focused on hers as he used his grip on the rose to draw her closer. Gently, then, he tugged the flower from her hands and did tuck it into her hair, instead. The injured hand he lifted near his face, his much stronger fingers gripping hers and trying to uncurl them so he could see where she’d been pricked.
Though his grip was firm, he kept his attempts at opening her hand gentle. He wanted that, too, to be her decision; opening up was a thing you couldn’t force on a rose or a girl. Once again, he was leading and she followed. Space halved as she was drawn closer, hand releasing the flower as he tugged it away. A slight, puzzled expression settled on her face as the flower moved to her curls. Sam wanted to understand the purpose of this. It had to tie into finding him, didn’t it?
For a moment her hand remained closed, clutched tighter and not wanting to show that weakness. A slight attempt of movement backward fueled by instinct, not overcome by the fuzziness of dreams. Stray thoughts took over again. Why? What did it matter? Was there a purpose to all this? She frowned and let her hand open, eyes remaining locked with his. Even if she didn’t say it, what she meant was clear. She was fine. When she relaxed, Dante pressed a gentle kiss against where the thorns had been. Then, while he had her hand tucked securely in his, he placed the other on her waist and tugged her toward the dancing figures. It would be easy to get swept up in the flow of them, to sway and swirl, until she was dizzy. She had gone along with his plans so nicely, to this point. He had high hopes that it would continue.
The figures on the dance floor parted to let them in, opening a way if Sam chose to go along with his invitation. Still, Dante said nothing, just urged her with his hands and his smile. At the kiss, Sam completely froze. These things didn’t happen, didn’t seem right. Something flipped in her stomach, just as his other hand moved to her waist. She followed, steps moving automatically as he led her into the dance, trying to think straight. Cheeks heated, turning pinker then normal. A protest, a question, something needed to be said and she felt tongue-tied.
These things didn’t happen to her normally.
She looked away from him then, a hand moving to his shoulder for balance. The other dancers seemed to think things were fine - they didn’t stare, wondering as she did, nor did they seem confused. They were caught up in the music and subtle magic of the room, pulling couples closer together and spinning. Sam looked back to the man she was with, sucking down her top lip as they spun along. She was missing something, but what? Dante pulled her as tightly against himself as he could manage, twirling them about the room very easily for a guy who’d never really learned how to dance. In dreams, though, it was easy.
When she looked like she was thinking too hard, Dante made certain to spin her faster, trying to dizzy her enough that she would stop. Finally, he spoke, in a low murmur that would have been inaudible had his mouth not been right beside her ear. “Just enjoy the dance. Worries can wait for another day, can’t they?” Though she couldn’t name the last person she’d been close to (someone who was protective, like a brother, but who?) Sam hadn’t had her personal space invaded so much before. That was a clear thought in her mind, even as her fingers threaded through his. He was spinning far too fast, something she knew she shouldn’t have complained of - she liked thrills and adventure.
But he was moving too quickly for her, forcing her to move closer and to rely on him. She was getting dizzy and it made thinking even more difficult. Him breaking their shared silence surprised her, enough to have her angle her head towards him, making sure it had been him. “Depends,” she murmured back. Looking up, she tried to find a reason for why his logic was wrong. There was still that feeling that things weren’t right.
She’d been looking for him for a reason. “We couldn’t really talk about anything with all these people around, anyway, could we?” Dante pressed his cheek to hers. “We have to be this close for you to hear me at all, and I don’t think you could have a serious discussion like this... could you?”
He could feel her breath against his face, and he knew she could feel his, as well. Combined with the closeness of her body, it was distracting... if it wasn’t just as distracting to her, that meant he was doing something horribly wrong. He was normally much better than that. Just in case, he stroked her side gently with the hand that rested upon her waist. There, that should help. “What would we have a serious discussion about?” Her head turned, nose brushing against his cheek in the movement. Oh crap. Far too close. With a slight frown, she tried to meet his eye, rather then other parts. It had been a subtle awareness throughout the chase and dance that he was attractive. An understatement. But Sam didn’t follow such trains of thoughts often, not even when someone clearly was paying attention back. (Why?)
As she felt movement on her waist, she took a sharp intake of breath. Not expected, even with everything else. Other thoughts went flying out the window, focusing instead on personal space and why it had been a good thing - and why a certain part of her mind, being blown away, still thought it was. With Sam nicely distracted, Dante enjoyed the dance a moment longer without any more words. Then, he spoke again, but not of anything that would break the mood. “It’s a lovely night, isn’t it? You need to relax more, enjoy life. You’re only young and beautiful once, and when that’s gone there’s no getting it back.”
Squeezing the hand that he held in his, he added before she could think about that, “I’m going to dip you, but don’t worry. I’d never let you fall. Are you ready?” Sam blinked up at him, before starting to nod - then shaking her head. “No. Some of us stop-” But she hadn’t. And she’d crossed over. This was knowledge she did remember, a core part of her and how her world worked. She frowned, eyes moving downwards to the sliver of space between them. She had been forgetting something. She had.
Her response to the dip - mind still trying to remember - was a tightening of her hand on his shoulder. “You won’t?” Not suspicious as much as curious. “Never.” Dante held on to her tightly as he dipped her back as far as he could. He held her there for a moment, looking down into her eyes with a serious expression. “Do you trust me?”
He held his breath as he waited for her response. He knew she didn’t, in the real world, but perhaps in his dream, Sam would change her mind. After all, what choice did she have but to trust him when he was the only thing keeping her from the floor? The ever nagging question of why troubled her again, before she was arched backwards, held up only because of him. Panic over vertigo overwhelmed her. She was going to fall, his hand would slip in hers, her heels would slide out from under her, her back would connect to the tile dance floor.
But she didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Just still.
She took a deep breath before a tiny nod. “A little.” The world seemed to hold still around them as he held her there in an endless moment, the hurried pace of the ballroom and the dancing couples fading and becoming blurry. A heartbeat more passed, and he smiled. “I’ll take what I can get.”
Then, he scooped her back upright and continued the dance, hand slipping down a little bit lower - onto her hip, rather than her waist. He hoped she would be too distracted to notice, at least for a little while. If Sam noticed, she wasn’t glaring or staring more than usual. “Why’s that?” she asked, eyes moving from his to around them again. The room was getting too dizzying to focus on. Had these people been here all along or were they getting more tightly packed? Her hand moved upwards on his shoulder, just a bit. In this room, he was more reliable then anything else.
“Do you know why we’re here?” It seemed like a better question for right now. Maybe he had the answer for why she’d been searching for him. There wasn’t a reason, as far as her blurry mind could come up with, about why he would lie about it. “To enjoy ourselves, of course.” Dante couldn’t think of any other reason for them to be at a dance. That was what dances were about, wasn’t it? Oh, and trying to get laid. He thought it would take a little longer before Sam was willing to consider that one, though.
He felt a small rush of victory as she moved closer, held on tighter. It wasn’t much, not at all, but it was a start; as he’d said, he would take it. Every little inch she gave was an inch closer to what he wanted. If it took her a while to run out of inches, that was fine; he didn’t mind a lengthy pursuit. It kept him from getting bored.
Though she didn’t seem to be in any danger of clearing her mind any time soon, Dante thought keeping the questions coming in order to keep her off balance wouldn’t hurt, at all. “You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” He did hope the answer would be yes. If not, he’d just have to try harder, and that was its own sort of reward. It was an answer, but not one she wanted. Sam wasn’t sure what she’d hope he’d say - something with a purpose. Enjoying herself (or in fact, enjoying things in general, with anyone rather then just this nameless plan) seemed lack-luster. It wasn’t a good enough reason for why it had been - was so important that she found him. This was something larger; she could feel it.
Or at least, she thought she did. She’d read and heard of enough epics to easily mistake things for it.
Her head canted to the side giving it more serious thought then necessary. No, she was honestly too confused to be. She couldn’t appreciate the dress, nor the party - not even the handsome man who’s arms she was in properly because she didn’t know why she was there. “Are you?” she countered. A small frown wandered onto Dante’s face, as he wondered for a moment why she was still asking questions. She should have been nicely distracted... but this was Sam, and Sam was different. It was why he was still interested. “Of course I’m enjoying myself. How could I not, in such wonderful company?”
Since she hadn’t complained about the hand on her hip, Dante used it to draw her even closer, so that they were pressed right up against each other. It had taken what felt like hours (but he knew had not been nearly so long) to get her there, but that was one goal accomplished. Surely there was some part of her that would enjoy the closeness, no matter what that so active brain would be telling her.
“If you aren’t enjoying yourself, maybe we should try something different.” She didn’t miss the frown and like everything else, she wondered at it. His answer didn’t surprise her and she offered a shrug. There was no answer for him, beyond questioning the hidden compliment. Or not so hidden as the case would be.
This time, she did react. A fixed look was aimed at him, lips pressed into a thin line. This close, it was more difficult to keep up with the dance - not only because of the lack of room, but the general awkwardness of it. Sam, for all her actions and half-thought out thoughts, was still caught up in her youth. It was the more childish part of her that said no, warning like in fairy-tales that things were moving quickly and to a world she didn’t (and likely wasn’t ready to) understand.
“Like what?” she asked, honestly. Her hand on his shoulder moved downwards, palm flat to push more space between. The soft, foggy state was fading away, Dante could tell. Before he lost his chance, he leaned her back once more to keep her off balance. Things could be hurt by rushing, of course, but letting it wait too long was just as bad, wasn’t it? Yes, it would give her a chance to start taking him for granted, to start thinking of him as just another brother figure. Obviously the only choice was to make his move and make sure she’d never try to put him in the so dreaded friends zone.
Now or never was his thought as he leaned in toward her, eyes drifting half closed While she was off balance, while she was in his arms and couldn’t run away, he pressed his lips to hers for a soft kiss, one that was almost sweet. It would be easy to get impatient, to press too hard, but he reminded himself to not demand too much with the touch.
It was, if he’d calculated correctly, just enough to make her want to come back to try it again. A tease, a taste. A temptation. He didn’t give her any warning on the drop and this time, she yelped as he did so. The hand which had been pushing him away went back to holding on tightly, rising until it was resting at the back of his neck. Being put into a dip wasn’t how Sam would term enjoying herself; she didn’t like the feeling of having to rely on him, as much as she didn’t like not knowing what was going on. Unfortunately, he moved forward and remedied that.
Literally trapped, Sam had no warning nor chance to anticipate the movement. Perhaps someone more aware, less blurry brained, and in tune with the adult world could have. As it was, her eyes remained open as he leaned towards her, mouth open slightly in surprise as he kissed her.
Though Sam remained wide eyed in surprise for a moment before giving in. She shut her eyes and ignored the warning bells in the back of her mind and the feeling in her stomach that this was wrong. Yes, she knew that - but this didn’t feel terrible. Besides, she hadn’t done this before which meant there was nothing to compare it too. The fact that adults seemed to do this kind of thing - that this was the plotline (kissing, mind) of most teenage fantasies made sense.
Beyond the growing memories in the back of her mind.
Little things came together - whether sparked by the kiss or a timeframe, she didn’t know and didn’t care to ponder. She knew who this was. She didn’t like him. She’d been sleeping. Besides, wasn’t this...Dante?
Crap, Freddie.
With every ounce of self control in her, Sam released Dante’s hand, attempting to pull her head away from him. She didn’t care if she fell now - her dress had enough fabric to cushion any fall. Her hand, once freed, slung back, thumb outside of fist, just as Rory taught her, and aimed for his temple. “Jerk.” Dante tried to hold on, he really did, but when her fist connected with his temple, there was no way he could keep his grip. “What the hell!” He released her to flail, losing his balance and falling backward himself as his head began to pound.
The dance floor, once more, cleared for him. Of course, he wouldn’t have minded a nice body to break his fall this time. He managed to catch himself, but his dignity had definitely been compromised. “Ow, Sam, that was really not necessary!”
He barely noticed the room starting to fade out around them, crumbling at the edges once the illusion was shattered. Sam managed to stretch out a hand behind her, bracing herself for the fall. She didn’t have far to go and the dress helped - until she had to get up. She had to go, had to get away - he wasn’t going to help her. He was stopping her from finding her brother. She just had to get out and she’d be on the path towards finding him again.
She scrambled to her feet, cursing her heels as she pushed through the crowd. “Move,” she barked to the dancers. This time, they were listening to her. She dashed for the edge of the ballroom, closer then she’d initially expected and spun around, looking for the door. Nothing. The wall remained smooth the whole way around.
Frustration and embarrassment mixed together, making her think irrationally. She grabbed an empty chair beside her, chucking it in Dante’s general direction. “LET ME OUT!” The room shook and she stumbled, turning away to see what - if anything was changing.
The dancers themselves seemed to be falling apart - tiny pieces, more ragged then glitter but just as small. She craned her head up to look at the ceiling, watching the tapestry above slide from one pole keeping it up, then from the other. She could hear, rather then see walls crumbling about her, the floor cracking as weight changed and shifted. As a crack appeared underneath, she hopped to one side - a chasm appearing below.
Instinct led to her next move. She sent one final, furious glance to Dante before jumping into the darkness below, biting her tongue to keep from screaming. Gravity didn’t make her whoosh downwards with her skirts up in her ears - things moved in slow motion, zero gravity or like Angela in Thinking land. Her eyes shut as the gradual motion continued on, limbs feeling heavier and heavier.
A minute later, Sam woke up in her own bed, blanket tugged up to her chin. She took a deep breath to shake the dream off. Less sugar before sleeping. Or less Disney Princess films with Lilly... she rolled onto her back, trying not to think about the dream. Because it didn’t mean anything, at all. Not with a real person in it. This one, of all the dreams she had, couldn’t be real.
Right? Dante woke with a smile on his face, in spite of the strange turn the dream had taken at the end. Oh, he’d never be so foolish as to actually try to kiss Sam, not in real life... but apparently his brain was grounded enough in reality to know how she’d react if he did, and to match it in his dream. Still...
He’d kissed Sam. And held her in his arms. That made the dream pleasant; of course, the day when he really did so would be even better.
His mood was more than good as he left his apartment half an hour later. He’d find someone to introduce to Sam that night, he knew he would... and soon, she’d be his.