Sam nervously made his way towards the new kid, Dean Smith. He noticed that Dean was working on his homework in the library. Sam cleared his throat to get his attention. “H-Hi.”
Dean peeked at him before scribbling down on his notebook. “Yes?” he said impatiently.
“I’m Sam—” He gulped. “—and I was wondering if you would like to—”
“I’m going to stop you right there.” Dean raised his hand. “I’m trying to get some work done here. So what makes you think I’m going to like doing anything afterwards?” Dean knew he was being a bitch, but the chemistry homework he was working on was kicking his ass.
Sam frowned, then bit his lips. “Oh… I’ll, uh, just go then.” Sam ducked away as he spun around. So much for a date…
The next day Sam got a few books from the shelves, then he headed towards the counter to have them check out. He picked up a book that read: Ghosthunters. Bless school for having good books.
“Huh? I didn’t peg you as a paranormal guy,” Dean uttered out from behind him. Sam tensed, and quickly covered his books. He didn’t want Dean to think he was a geek or a loser.
“Umm— No! These aren’t for me,” Sam lied, “t-there for my friend.” Sam wanted to crawl under a rock and die from humiliation.
“I like it too,” Dean blurted out.
Sam blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah. Look.” Dean took off his backpack and unzipped it, he pulled out a novel: The Dead won’t Stay Dead. “This is my favorite book!” Dean smiled, then blushed as he slightly squealed. “Y-You want to borrow it? It’s really good.”
“Sure.” Sam nearly screamed in excited. “When I get home I’m so going to read this.” He gently grabbed the book, admiring the scary font and page cover. “Thanks, Dean.”
“We can talk about it together when you’re done,” Dean offered. “I know I was being an asshole to you yesterday, so let me make it up to you on Friday after school. That okay?”
Sam nodded, speechless. “Yes. Very okay with it.” He got his date.
“Good. Really good.” It got a little awkward with both them blushing like school girls. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sam.”
Again, Sam nodded. He waved bye at Dean and then gazed back to the book. Sam had never been so happy to love supernatural.
someone prove to me how it wasn’t inevitable that Dean Smith and Sam Wesson were going to end up in bed together if Zachariah had been allowed to keep the Winchesters in his fantasy land.
-after the magnetizing staring contests,
before they had properly met.
-after the accusations of sexuality,
and offering that beer after taking Sam back to his place so late at night.
-after feeling that empty shell without each other,
and then coming alive while they were near.
-after the dreams Sam had of he and Dean,
and how he told Dean about those dreams.
-after Sam, bright-eyed and hopeful, asked Dean to throw it all away and be with him,
after Dean actually did just that.
prove to me how they weren’t going to let their eyes wander during those late nights in a split motel room, wondering why this other person has so much sway in their life. why they click, why they make sense. why they met and dropped everything to do what they were doing. prove to me they weren’t going to impress each other in a brawl with a monster and save each others lives. tell me how they wouldn’t end up wrapped around each other after Sam’s dreams of him and Dean didn’t stop. because they both couldn’t explain their wild and sudden attachment, which Dean originally mistook for simple flirting.
Dean Smith needed a personal assistant, so he hired a young college student named Sam. Three things went wrong: one, Sam would constantly flirt with him; two, Sam sucked at his job; and three, Sam called him at the worst time. Dean would rather hire a clown off the streets than let Sam near his computer. Every time Dean tried to fire him, Sam would give him a big, bright smile that warmed Dean’s heart. Yeah. Dean couldn’t get rid of him, not that he really wanted to.
Sam Wesson may be one of the youngest agents at the Federal Bureau of Investigations, but his reputations proceed him as one of the most talented and well-established agents. After local authorities call the FBI in for assistance on a case that involves a serial killer with a God complex that seemingly suffers from religious psychosis, Sam Wesson meets his new partner, Dean Smith, who is also quite the talented agent himself, but as Sam gets to know Dean, he realizes there is more to his new partner than what meets the eye and Sam soon finds himself having to fight for his life.
Dean Smith hated mess, and Sam Wesson was definitely a mess.
He looked neat enough on the surface, the smooth lines of the hideous yellow shirt lining up with well-fitting pants, always clean and tidy; but Dean could tell that mess lurked just under the surface.
His hands always linger too close to hair that looks just ruffled; papers spill out of his satchel at the slightest provocation, and he always has an air of being not quite on time.
But the biggest potential mess is the upheaval Dean knows that Sam could wreak in his own life; there’s just something about Sam that draws Dean in. Dean’s used to easy, efficient one night stands or well-communicated casual arrangements where both parties are aware of the highly-defined boundaries; but Sam Wesson makes him want to throw that all away and take the kind of chances he’s never succumbed to in his entire life.
Dean tries to analyse it, of course (that’s what he does best). Is it Sam’s ridiculously floppy, pullable hair? Is it the long legs that power through the office on their way to no-doubt-crucial IT call outs? Is it the breadth of his shoulders straining under the ridiculous yellow tshirt?
Dean’s forced to admit, after an evening thinking it through while on his treadmill, that it is all and none of those things. Sam’s allure is all and none of those things; more worryingly it’s the dimples at the corner of Sam’s mouth that one time Dean made him smile; it’s the endearingly earnest way that Sam tries to convince Dean of things; and the fact that Sam seems to be waiting for him at the elevator every evening.
Dean’s unused to feelings like this, and it makes him deeply uncomfortable.
Dean Smith being bored and horny one day and somehow convinces Sam to play strip poker with him. Sam winning most of the times, and soon Dean is wearing nothing but jeans and the samulet. “No underwear?” Sam asks him, pretending not to see Dean’s obvious erection. When Sam starts to slowly unbutton his shirt Dean lets out a breathy sigh. Before either of them know it, Dean is up against the wall, stripping Sam of his shirt while kissing him. Drunk on hormones and their competitiveness they fuck They don’t regret anything afterwards. Nor do they regret it the next time or the time after that Nor do they when they’re Sam and Dean Winchester again