play with me!

[unamaga]

Who wants to play round robin with me? *makes eyes* I have the beginning of a fic, and y'all can jump in and add to it, then someone else or me, and it'll be a huge big fun thing that we can do and there will be NO RULES because that's just better. So, how's about it?

Option One: Sam and Dean

Sam’s not innocent.

His brother may like to think he is, or pretend that he is, but it’s not true. He’s fucked and been fucked, he’s killed, he’s stolen – he’s a big boy. And even though Dean may be the lady killer, Sam’s no slouch when it comes to getting ass, and he’s damn proud of that fact.

Hell, he’d only known Meg five hours before he fucked her right there in the bus station men’s room. They hadn’t even tried to lock the door or get into a stall, he’d just pressed her up against the dirty tile wall, pulled her pants down, and slammed in. He remembers the little noises she made when he hit everything just right: breathy moans, tiny, hitching gasps. He remembers how loud she yelled when he went down on his knees afterwards and ate his own come out of her cunt.

Yeah, so maybe that wasn’t the best idea ever, considering, but she was still a pretty damn good lay – nice and tight.

Point is, Sam’s not a little computer nerd that’s never stuck his hand up a girl’s shirt before. And Dean needs to recognize that fact and stop trying to set Sam up or else he’s going to get a foot broken off in his ass.

:::

“How about that sexy blonde thing over there? The one in the little blue number.”

Sam takes another gulp of his beer and tries not to slam it back down onto the table too hard. “Dean, we’ve been through this.”

“Aw, come on, Sammy,” his brother says, reaching across the table to pat Sam encouragingly on the shoulder. “You need to get rid of some of that tension, y’know? Think of it as a kind of stress relief.”

“We need to focus on this case, Dean.” Sam turns the laptop around and taps his finger over the photo he’d brought up of a banshee. “This is the thing in Mr. Tanner’s house, and I haven’t found anything yet about how to banish one of them. This is important, Dean. Focus for one second.”

Dean’s eyes are on that same blonde again, one eyebrow raised in appreciation. “I am focusing,” he says. “Are you sure you don’t want to get with that, Sam? Because she has a gorgeous ass, and she looks like the type that would let you fully appreciate it.”

Something in Sam snaps. He leans across the table, only barely restraining himself from fisting his hand in the front of Dean’s shirt. “You know what I would appreciate?” he asks, and his voice has enough of a growl in it to get Dean’s full attention. “If you’d stop trying to get me laid, because I really don’t need your help and, honestly, I’m more in the mood for cock tonight anyway.”

Option Two: Jensen and Jared

Maybe those last five tequila shots weren’t a good idea, Jensen muses hazily as another potted plant bumps into him and he nearly falls over. He has no idea what he ever did to the potted plants, but that fern over there is eyeing him up too and he’s a little worried.

“Jen?” Jared’s suddenly at his elbow, long fingers curling around Jensen’s forearm. “Dude, are you talking to that palm tree?”

Jensen blinks slowly. “When’d you get here?”

“Don’t be an ass, we came together, remember?” Jared says. He tugs on Jensen’s arm, pulling him away from the plant and back towards the bar. “Come on, man, grab your jacket and I’ll take you home.”

A pretty blonde sitting at a booth halfway towards the dance floor catches Jensen’s eyes and licks her lips. “Don’t wanna go home,” Jensen says immediately, trying to get Jared to let go of him. It’s useless, though, because Jared is half giant and bench-presses mopeds, damn it all. “Jared,” Jensen whines.

“You’re tanked,” Jared says without looking back, “and you’ll regret it in the morning. Pick up your stupid jacket and let’s go.”

So Jensen picks up his stupid jacket and they go.

Annnndd YOUR TURN.