Fic: You don't get me
Title: You don't get me
Author: joans23
Paring: Sam/Jo/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Words: Approx 300
Summary: "You tell me that you've got everything you want, And your bird can sing, But you don't get me, you don't get me"
Notes: For theladyscribe who gave me And Your Bird Can Sing by the Beatles as a prompt. Trust me to write a PG-13 threesome.
You happy, Sammy?"
"Yes, I am. And don't call me Sammy."
"You didn't seem to mind before," Dean snickers, pretending to grab at Sam's ass.
"Dean, don't," Sam growls, grabbing Dean's wrist and twisting it back painfully.
"Jesus, Sam, I was only kidding." He rubs at the marks Sam leaves on his skin, blood angrily blooming to the surface. "What's gotten into you?"
"Nothing." Sam ducks his head, avoiding Dean's eyes. "Nothing. Sorry." He can't keep his eyes off the bruises though.
"And Jo?" Dean persists.
"Yeah, Jo too. She makes me happy. Now drop it, Dean."
"Fine. Just making sure my little brother is taken care of."
Dean walks away and Sam lets him take two steps before he grabs hold of him, pushes him up against the wall. Dean stares at him, breath coming faster as Sam lowers his head, as he stares unabashedly at Dean's mouth. At the last moment, Dean turns his head away and Sam ends up pressing his lips to the soft spot behind Dean's left ear.
"Thought your wife makes you happy."
Sam lets go so suddenly Dean stumbles forward half a step and then his head snaps back violently as Sam takes a swing at him, his fist smashing against Dean's jaw.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Dean?" Sam stands with his hands braces on his knees, straining for breath, like the punch drained every last bit of strength from him. "You've got your car, the open road, evil sonsofbitches to hunt, everything you could possibly want."
"Maybe not everything," Dean says, pressing the back of his hand to his bleeding mouth.
"You left," Sam accuses softly.
"Can't you see, Sam? You picked her! She picked you! What was left for me?"
"There's us," Jo answers coming in from the kitchen, one hand slipping her shirt's buttons from their loops one by one as she reaches for them with the other.
~End.
Author: joans23
Paring: Sam/Jo/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Words: Approx 300
Summary: "You tell me that you've got everything you want, And your bird can sing, But you don't get me, you don't get me"
Notes: For theladyscribe who gave me And Your Bird Can Sing by the Beatles as a prompt. Trust me to write a PG-13 threesome.
You happy, Sammy?"
"Yes, I am. And don't call me Sammy."
"You didn't seem to mind before," Dean snickers, pretending to grab at Sam's ass.
"Dean, don't," Sam growls, grabbing Dean's wrist and twisting it back painfully.
"Jesus, Sam, I was only kidding." He rubs at the marks Sam leaves on his skin, blood angrily blooming to the surface. "What's gotten into you?"
"Nothing." Sam ducks his head, avoiding Dean's eyes. "Nothing. Sorry." He can't keep his eyes off the bruises though.
"And Jo?" Dean persists.
"Yeah, Jo too. She makes me happy. Now drop it, Dean."
"Fine. Just making sure my little brother is taken care of."
Dean walks away and Sam lets him take two steps before he grabs hold of him, pushes him up against the wall. Dean stares at him, breath coming faster as Sam lowers his head, as he stares unabashedly at Dean's mouth. At the last moment, Dean turns his head away and Sam ends up pressing his lips to the soft spot behind Dean's left ear.
"Thought your wife makes you happy."
Sam lets go so suddenly Dean stumbles forward half a step and then his head snaps back violently as Sam takes a swing at him, his fist smashing against Dean's jaw.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Dean?" Sam stands with his hands braces on his knees, straining for breath, like the punch drained every last bit of strength from him. "You've got your car, the open road, evil sonsofbitches to hunt, everything you could possibly want."
"Maybe not everything," Dean says, pressing the back of his hand to his bleeding mouth.
"You left," Sam accuses softly.
"Can't you see, Sam? You picked her! She picked you! What was left for me?"
"There's us," Jo answers coming in from the kitchen, one hand slipping her shirt's buttons from their loops one by one as she reaches for them with the other.
~End.