Sarah meets Cassie at a hotel room she had booked for a three night stay while scoping out the possibility of a haunting in New Jersey.
There’s something about her - maybe about the way she holds herself, how she lights a cigarette outside her door and looks just a little suspicious about everything - that draws Sarah to say hello.
When she does, Cassie gives her a look, a cross between startled surprise and a bemused smirk.
It reads like the beginning of a bad science-fiction romance.
In retrospect, Sarah supposes that’s exactly what it is, isn’t it?
“Why do you wear dresses to everything?”
“People are less likely to think I’m dangerous if I appear petite.” Sarah continues to sort through the articles and doesn’t make eye contact with Cassie, who is staring straight at her intensely. “A girl in high-heels with a low-cut black dress doesn’t seem like much of a threat…” She trails off and sneaks a glance up at Cassie and sees that she’s smiling. “Does she?”
“No, I guess not…” Cassie pauses and looks more carefully at a photo in a newspaper clipping. “What do you think it could be? It’s not a usual ghost this time.”
Three months together and they’ve sort of found a method - a way to go about hunting that’s more calculated than anything they’ve ever done before. “It doesn’t seem like it’s a shapeshifter,” Sarah muses as she dives into another shrot article about a death two months ago. “And no signs of vampires or anything like that. It attacks during the day so…that eliminates werewolves too.”
“I’ll get my laptop,” Cassie offers.
If there’s one thing they always do, it’s get to the bottom of things.
The first time Cassie kisses her is after a successful ghost hunt. Maybe it was the tragedy of the ghost’s past that made her prone to the physical contact, or maybe it was just the build-up of tension between them over almost half a year of stealing through motels and drinking wine in houses they squatted in. But either way, Cassie has very warm and soft lips, and she kisses like she means it, like it’s so important and like there’s nothing else to be had.
Sarah combs her fingers through Cassie’s long curls and she kisses back just as hard, just as hungrily. Their bodies slide together easily enough and Cassie’s hand slides up Sarah’s thigh in the most unsubtle way (Sarah almost wishes she hadn’t dressed appropriately as Cassie squeezes her leg through her jeans, and they rut against each other almost desperately). The side of the building is smooth and it’s dark out but the streets around them are empty, one light casting over where they parked the car.
“We should move,” Sarah manages to pant when she pulls away, and Cassie is smiling again, rests a hand on Sarah’s waist gently but firmly, and guides her back to the car.
It’s nice - to have someone else in control like this.
Cheap motel beds aren’t necessarily the ideal place for first times, but Sarah doesn’t complain and she almost forgets where they are until the air-conditioning kicks on and she feels the cool blast on her sweat-sticky skin.
Cassie rolls her over onto her back to undo her bra and then proceeds to kiss down her bare spine.
There’s definitely nothing to feel bad about.
Sometimes Sarah tangles her legs with Cassie’s in bed. Sometimes they both lie down and stare at each other in the dark and Sarah wonders how they ended up like this. They maybe talk about their introduction into this odd world once, and they don’t bring up the Winchesters or broken hearts again, because it just doesn’t seem necessary. Instead they kiss slow and easy and they save a few lives between, make calls, make connections, teach other people how to do the same.
Sarah laughs a little as Cassie’s smooth fingers trail down her waist.
“What is it?” Cassie asks, kissing her jaw.
“Racist truck and a vengeful kid stuck in a painting. Kind of ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“I think our lives are ridiculous,” Cassie answers dryly.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“But you’re happy?”
Sarah smiles. “I’m happy.”