![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
They crossed the small stretch of parking lot without talking, which suited Sam. It was taking all of his mental capacity to remember: 115 was occupied by the manacled blonde, 114 had double four-poster beds, 113 didn't exist, 112 was Kitty, 111 had double beds, 110... 110 had been Henry's room. Part of him wanted to resist, but it was a small part as the rest was currently insisting on naked, now.
He glanced over to see that even though he had a good few inches on her, Bo (and her long, toned legs) had no trouble keeping up with him. It wasn't like him, coming on to a chick he'd known for five minutes, but something about her screamed yes before he'd even thought to consider the question. He might, a little, understand why Dean preferred one-night stands or casual hook-ups. No pretenses, no obligations, no guilt.
Not much guilt. He was still Sam.
That thought carried him to the door of 110. Technically, it should be locked, but Sam had a skeleton key for exorcising or otherwise dealing with ghosts, so he put his hand on the door, slid the card in, and as it swung open, he reached for the woman behind him.
He glanced over to see that even though he had a good few inches on her, Bo (and her long, toned legs) had no trouble keeping up with him. It wasn't like him, coming on to a chick he'd known for five minutes, but something about her screamed yes before he'd even thought to consider the question. He might, a little, understand why Dean preferred one-night stands or casual hook-ups. No pretenses, no obligations, no guilt.
Not much guilt. He was still Sam.
That thought carried him to the door of 110. Technically, it should be locked, but Sam had a skeleton key for exorcising or otherwise dealing with ghosts, so he put his hand on the door, slid the card in, and as it swung open, he reached for the woman behind him.
