[CL] Wildly Inappropriate!Sam (for huntersdaughter)
[huntersdaughter used with permission. Set in takea_stepback, back between Season 2 and Season 3.]
Sam was kinda really drunk.
He thought that he had the right to be-his brother was going to die in a year if he didn’t do something about it, and he knew that while his being drunk wasn’t exactly helping fix that particular situation, but it was making him feel better. A little less depressed and a little more indignant that this wasn’t his fault-well, at least not entirely. Dean was the idiot that sold his soul. That was his story and he was sticking to it.
Also, this table was really kinda gross.
“Sam.” Jo’s voice came over his shoulder, and he picked his head up a bit, before grabbing the bottle of scotch and pulling it closer. Jo had caught up with them shortly after the fight over the Devil’s Gate, and apparently, it was her turn to play Babysit Sammy. Sam? Not amused.
“I’m not done yet,” he mumbled, hugging the bottle like it was his baby.
“Oh, I think ya are,” Jo sighed, reaching over and yanking the bottle out of his grip. Sam’s eyes went wide as he saw the bottle drifting away, and he started to try and reach out for it again. He was tall, and he had long arms, but she was faster than him in his drunken state right now. Closest he could get was her, and he decided that that would just have to do. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back gently, but she was off balance enough that it sent her tumbling back into him, having Jo landing in his lap, bottle still in her hand.
This point, though, the bottle was the least of his concerns.
“Oops,” he murmured, just watching her for a minute. She was pretty. And she was tiny-he liked that. It was irrational, but he felt like the smaller she was, the better he could protect her. And, well, he’d always liked Jo. She was nice, and funny, and she cared, kinda in the same way Dean did. She watched out for him. He needed that.
“Sam?”
He reached all these conclusions at about the same time as his body was moving, leaning in and brushing his lips to hers, gently at first, then slowly being a bit more insistent as he felt what he thought was her responding. The alcohol made it hard to tell if he was right or not, but he had at least five minutes before she punched him.
“-ow!” Sam pulled back and rubbed his jaw, giving her his best glare, which was actually more of a pout. “-What’d you do that for?”
“You’re drunk, you idiot,” she glared.
“Yeah. So?”
She rolled her eyes at that, before shaking her head and yanking him up to his feet. “C’mon. I’m getting you to bed before you come up with more stupid ideas.”
Sam glumly got up and followed her lead, head hanging slightly and looking really kind of pathetic as he swayed back and forth. “’m sorry.”
Jo looked at him, before shaking her head as she led him back towards the bedroom. “Dean really wasn’t kiddin’ when he said you were a light weight, was he?”
And that just got Sam pouting even more. “Shut up.”
546 words
Sam was kinda really drunk.
He thought that he had the right to be-his brother was going to die in a year if he didn’t do something about it, and he knew that while his being drunk wasn’t exactly helping fix that particular situation, but it was making him feel better. A little less depressed and a little more indignant that this wasn’t his fault-well, at least not entirely. Dean was the idiot that sold his soul. That was his story and he was sticking to it.
Also, this table was really kinda gross.
“Sam.” Jo’s voice came over his shoulder, and he picked his head up a bit, before grabbing the bottle of scotch and pulling it closer. Jo had caught up with them shortly after the fight over the Devil’s Gate, and apparently, it was her turn to play Babysit Sammy. Sam? Not amused.
“I’m not done yet,” he mumbled, hugging the bottle like it was his baby.
“Oh, I think ya are,” Jo sighed, reaching over and yanking the bottle out of his grip. Sam’s eyes went wide as he saw the bottle drifting away, and he started to try and reach out for it again. He was tall, and he had long arms, but she was faster than him in his drunken state right now. Closest he could get was her, and he decided that that would just have to do. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back gently, but she was off balance enough that it sent her tumbling back into him, having Jo landing in his lap, bottle still in her hand.
This point, though, the bottle was the least of his concerns.
“Oops,” he murmured, just watching her for a minute. She was pretty. And she was tiny-he liked that. It was irrational, but he felt like the smaller she was, the better he could protect her. And, well, he’d always liked Jo. She was nice, and funny, and she cared, kinda in the same way Dean did. She watched out for him. He needed that.
“Sam?”
He reached all these conclusions at about the same time as his body was moving, leaning in and brushing his lips to hers, gently at first, then slowly being a bit more insistent as he felt what he thought was her responding. The alcohol made it hard to tell if he was right or not, but he had at least five minutes before she punched him.
“-ow!” Sam pulled back and rubbed his jaw, giving her his best glare, which was actually more of a pout. “-What’d you do that for?”
“You’re drunk, you idiot,” she glared.
“Yeah. So?”
She rolled her eyes at that, before shaking her head and yanking him up to his feet. “C’mon. I’m getting you to bed before you come up with more stupid ideas.”
Sam glumly got up and followed her lead, head hanging slightly and looking really kind of pathetic as he swayed back and forth. “’m sorry.”
Jo looked at him, before shaking her head as she led him back towards the bedroom. “Dean really wasn’t kiddin’ when he said you were a light weight, was he?”
And that just got Sam pouting even more. “Shut up.”
546 words