Sam/Jess – rennegades backup

prompt: INTRODUCTIONS
series: Wrapped Up In You
timeline: Paved With Good Intentions
characters: Sam, Jessica, Brady
words: 433
summary: (First meetings can be unexpected)

———————————————

It takes a month and a half of whining and wheedling for Sam to cave to Brady. He’s actually pretty proud of himself for this, as there is only so long a person can stand to listen to the hard partying loudmouth bitch and moan, and Sam has lasted longer than most of their mutual friends. It’s cold comfort to take with him when he finds himself ducking into a bar behind his friend at a quarter to midnight.

He still caved, after all; caved and was dragged off for a night of karaoke. The laughter that’s ringing in the back of his head right now? That’s Dean’s. This is definitely one of those stories he is not going to tell his brother about. Ever.

Karaoke might be one of those normal guy in a normal life situations, but it had never factored into his own normal life plans. The upside was that it was a sports bar, and he could alw—

“TYSON!”

Sam is a pretty smart guy. He gets good grades and tends to breeze through the requirements to keep his scholarship going. It still takes the shouting woman actually jumping on Brady for him to connect the name. There are few people that call his friend by his given name, and Sam had almost forgotten that Brady wasn’t it.

“You are late!”

“Not by much,” Brady grins widely, and it’s all teeth. The blond woman wrapped around him leans back and Sam is embarrassed to discover that it’s his favorite stranger.

“Two hours, Tyson. That is a whole lot of late!”

A distant part of Sam’s brain takes note that she’s pretty even when she’s mad, though most of it is caught up in her wide eyes and red cheeks. He might not have the same level of experience at cataloging the tells that his brother does, but the slight slur to her words and the way she’s swaying is enough to tell him that she’s started drinking without them.

He really shouldn’t find that cute, but like everything else he’s ever noticed about her, he totally does.

Brady hasn’t lost an inch of his grin; if anything it’s gotten wider. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and then swings them around so that she can see Sam. The heat in his face makes it pretty obvious that he’s blushing, and he’s hoping like hell that between the drinks and the lighting, she doesn’t notice. He’s not prepared to meet the girl that’s been on his mind for over a year, but that’s taken out of his hands now.

“Rabbit, this is Sam. Sam, this is Jessica.”

post #500 = another fic post. yay.

I’m also reconsidering how I set the fic up on the Pit, so I might make it three separate stories so I can post from each continuity as I write them. This is how I’m planning on setting it up on ao3, but there’s a series option on ao3 that I don’t think there is on ffnet.

And dammit dreamhost. Give me back my server already. I want to be able to make things unique again.

——- prompt: SIGHT ——-

The first time that Sam Winchester saw her, the only option available was to stare.

He wasn’t staring because she was particularly pretty (she was, in fact, drop dead gorgeous), but because of her hair. The roughly cut mass of wavy blonde looked to have been attacked with a marker while she was sleeping. Her whole face had that appearance, really. There were messy half-faded streaks of crimson on her forehead and cheeks, and even a bit on her lips.

Unfortunately, as much as he would have liked to keep watching her face, he only got a minute or so of the full front view before she had brushed past him, running as fast as her legs could carry her. She shouted an apology back, along with a curse and a wail of being late as she disappeared around a corner.

He wasn’t about to forget her face.

The second time that Sam Winchester saw her, she looked completely blissed out. The streaks in her hair had faded almost completely, only visible to someone who had known they were there, and there were no more marks on her face, only an expression that could best be called orgasmic. That was despite the blotchy redness and smeared make-up that made it obvious that she had been crying and crying hard.

She certainly wasn’t crying anymore, though.

No, when he came across her she was devouring a piece of strawberry shortcake in a way that reminded him all too strongly of his brother’s addiction to pie. That comparison brought up a sharp pang of memory, and he made a promise to himself to call Dean later. In the mean time, it was actually kind of hypnotizing to watch her eat. He was almost tempted to just stay and watch her eat.

Unfortunately he was due for a talk with his counselor in regards to his scholarship, which meant he really had to go now.

The third time that he saw her, he almost swallowed his tongue. For some reason or another, he hadn’t quite connected cheerleaders and university (he was going to blame that on his upbringing. And Dean for not warning him), but there she was. In a teeny tiny skirt. Showing off her legs.

Good God but they went on forever.

He wasn’t the only one who had stopped to watch her boun— practice. To have stopped to watch her practice. There were plenty of guys and girls along side him, watching the blonde amazon do her routine, so really. He shouldn’t have stood out. And he wouldn’t have if he hadn’t been a full head taller than just about everyone else who was watching.

So he can’t be blamed for flushing scarlet when her eyes met his, or for the way he’d quickly moved on.

After that heart pounding moment, he was always noticing her. Where ever he went, his eyes seemed to be drawn right to her. She was so bright and cheerful, a spot of sunlight that drew everyone to her. He was no exception.

The only problem was that he really didn’t know how to get to know her, not really. This wasn’t like a hunt; he couldn’t just slip on a new outfit and personality and become whatever it was that she wanted to see. Not if he wanted to get to know her, not if he wanted to be friends.

So he contented himself with watching her from afar. There were certainly worse sights to be entranced by.

(Though he’s positive there’s nothing better)

another sweet Sam/Jess set in the SPNxSM ‘verse. sweet and sad. no schmoop tag for this one. Stupid last line.

——- prompt: FIRST ——-

Jessica isn’t his first girlfriend. Sam isn’t her first boyfriend. Their first kiss is as much an accident as it is a fond memory. There is nothing truly amazing about the first time they hug or hold hands or go on a date or make out. They just slide together, two halves of a whole that just needed to find each other.

(Jess teases him about being cliche. Sam’s response his to press a sloppy kiss to her cheek, then remind her that she’s the one who insisted he buy her the biggest possible stuffed bear for Valentines.)

The firsts that matter aren’t the romantic ones. Jess is the first girl who doesn’t leave when he refuses to talk about his past. Sam is the first boy who doesn’t disappear when she breaks down for reasons she can’t explain. Jess is the first girl to ignore the scars on his body to focus on the man inside. Sam is the first boy who understands her nightmares without ever asking about them.

Jess is the first girl that he can see himself growing old with.

Sam is the first boy that she knows she’ll grow old with.

(It’s really too bad that tearing them apart is the first step.)

Okay wow. After tonight’s episode… I need cheering up. So. I am going to write up a couple of the sweeter Jess/Sam prompts for my SPNxSM thing. Hopefully they’ll make sense, even without a lot of the background stuff.

——- prompt: FRIENDS ——-

Jessica is sprawled across one end of the couch when Sam comes home that evening. She is slowly swinging her legs back and forth over the arm of the couch, and one hand is twisting and tangling in her hair. The other arm is extended over her head, a red ribbon hanging down from whatever she is looking at. An open letter rests face down on her bare stomach.

She tilts her head back to smile up at him as he sits down. “Hey Sam.”

“Hey yourself.” He smiles back at her as he tugs her up, pulling her head into his lap so he can untangle the mess she’s made of her hair. “What’s that?”

“A gift,” and her smile turns teasing as she holds the ribbon out towards him. Hanging from it is a thin crystal vial that catches the setting sun in a riot of colour. Gently Sam takes it from her and inspects it with mild curiousity. The vial is a couple inches long, maybe a quarter of one in diameter, and filled with alternating layers of particles. His lips quirk a bit as he places the strange mixture: sand, salt, and coffee grinds, of all things.

The vial is also decorated with a cross that is carefully etched into the side of the vial, and the cap looks like it might just be sterling silver. It speaks for how determined he is to leave his old life behind that he doesn’t dwell on what the strange little gift could be used for when it came to a hunt.

Jess is giggling at the intensity of his expression, and Sam sticks his tongue out at her in retaliation.

“Rei set it to me. To keep ghosts out of the apartment, since she isn’t here to exorcise it for me.”

It takes Sam a moment to remember just who Rei is; while he doesn’t talk much of Dean and Dad, Jess’ stories of her high school friends may be slightly stilted, but she still tries to let him into that part of her life. “The Shinto priestess who went to a catholic school, right?”

“That’s the one!”

“Does she do exorcisms often?”

Jessica’s laugh is bright with happy memories. “Oh Sam… didn’t I tell you how we first met? Rei tried to exorcise me!”

His laugh joins hers at the mental image: a small Japanese girl trying to cast the evil out of the younger version of his girlfriend…? He knows that Jess wasn’t as tall as then as she is now, but that’s the image that’s in his head. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” she’s still giggling, though her smile turns rueful. “There’s… well, there’s not a whole lot of blondes in Japan, you know? So… some people associate it with delinquents and gangs. Rei wasn’t the first person to make that mistake.”

“Somehow, I just can’t see it,” he murmurs, running a finger down her cheek. “So… how is this little thing supposed to ward off the big bad ghosts?”

He has some ideas of what the sand and salt could be used for, can even still name off a number of spirits and creatures that they’d be effective against. The problem is those coffee grinds; he couldn’t think of anything that had to do with ghosts, which meant it was probably one of those new age wicca things.

“Well, let’s see… Rei wrote it down here somewhere…” she picks the letter up off her stomach to scour the contents for the answer. “Hmm, well spirits are apparently incredibly neurotic and have to count every single grain before they can move past the vial. And this will give me— and I’m quoting here Sam, don’t laugh— time ‘to find someone who can exorcise the ghost for me’.”

He can’t help it. He just has to laugh at that. He doesn’t tell her that with a little bit of brushing up he would be able to perform the possible future exorcism himself. He doesn’t tell her that it wouldn’t be the first time he’d located a corpse to do a little salt and burn to ensure that it never comes back. He doesn’t tell her any of that because they are normal people living a normal life in a normal world.

He does, however, lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. She tilts her head back and claims his lips instead. It is gentle and chaste, just a sweet brushing of lips, but it makes him feel so much better about keeping his secrets secret. She tangles her fingers in his hair, breaking the kiss with a soft smile.

“You’ve got some weird friends, Jess.”

“You have no idea.”