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[make you smile]
sam/jess - hard r
2,396 words

She believes in live, love, laugh, and when she does her homework she twists her hair up with pens and pencils, biting her lip in concentration. Her glasses slip low on her nose and every so often she pushes them back up with her finger. Sometimes, she doesn't notice Sam watching her, and other times she does, grins at him and goes right back to work.

Sam always remembers to bring home "study food" for cram sessions; cartons of lo mein and Thai pad noodles for later. She loves how he knows her and wishes she knew him more.


He reads Hamlet for fun during break, and she smiles, calls him a dork. She takes the book from his hands, sliding herself onto his lap instead. He grins at her, leaning back a little, and lest his hands come to rest on her hips. He rubs soothing circles with the pads of his thumbs across her hip bones and she twines her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, and kisses him. He grunts a little in surprise when she thrusts her tongue into his mouth.

"Wanna take a break," she asks softly, moving from his lips to kiss down his neck and mouth along his collarbone.

"Well," he starts and gasps a little when she uses teeth. "I was just getting to the part where - god, Jess -" he interrupts himself when she grinds herself down against him and she grins when she can feel him hard in his pants, poking against her thigh.

"You were saying?" She smiles and he pulls her head down rough, shoving his tongue in her mouth, and she loves how kisses. Sam always kisses like it's the last thing he'll do, like he means it, and she knows she kisses him the same way.

She gets to work on his belt buckle and jeans, and when he comes inside of her, she doesn't want to remember what life was like before him.


In late August they go to a carnival in San Francisco, and she drags Sam by the hand to see the gypsy lady set in her booth between the game stands. She looks up at them and Sam pays her for a reading while Jess takes a seat. She knows this is silly, and frivolous, and her daddy would frown at her for making Sam waste hard earned money on something like this - but it's fun, and she and Sam always make time to have fun, and he didn't object.

He stands behind her while the gypsy pulls out her cards. Two of cups, for lovers – marriage, she says and Sam blushes.

"Got something you want to ask me, Winchester?" Jess says and smiles up at him when he grins embarrassedly. She looks back when the gypsy lady sucks her teeth. The Devil, for ill fate. The King of Pentacles, for a dark young man. She looks up at Sam and he shrugs, but smirks. Gypsy turns over the death card and Jess suddenly feels Sam so close she can feel the heat coming off of his body. Death, for all your trouble.

She laughs, because it's not like this is anything substantial, not like it means anything. Sam looks at the gypsy lady for a moment and Jess shivers because the look in his eyes is something she doesn't know. He keeps his hand at the small of her back, possessive, protective, and it makes her love him more.

When they get home he fucks her hard and fast in their bed. He drives into her so desperately it almost hurts, makes her worry they might break the condom, his breath huffing out against the damp skin of her neck, and he holds her so tightly it makes her heart ache.

"Sam," she whispers, wrapping her legs around him and squeezing, holding him in. His whole body shudders when he comes, and his breath comes out in ragged gasps, and she can't understand why something as silly as a tarot reading has him this worked up, but when she tries to ask she sees that shuttered look in his eyes, the one that says he can't tell her - or won't - and she veers back, away from those icy waters, and lets Sam hold her too close.


She loves when people stare at them, when they watch her and Sam walk hand in hand, with looks that say I wish I had that. Sam doesn't hunch when she holds his hand, doesn't try to make himself seem smaller. She loves that - she loves that when he's with her, he isn't anything more than just Sam, and loves that with him she can just be herself and that's okay, too.

Sam looks at her like she's something amazing, and she knows that in passing, she could be one of those people, just another face in the crowd, but she isn't - she won't be. She learned a long time ago tat people will pass you by - life will pass you by - if you let them. So she kisses him in the quad while people stare. He blushes and scratches the back of his neck and she throws her head back, laughs long and loud, and knows that in the long run she'll be remembered.

"I don't think anyone could forget you," Sam says, smiling bright and real. "I never could."

"I love you," she says, and a few girls and boys walk by watching. "I really love him," she says to one of them, pointing to Sam and Sam blushes.

"Lucky guy," the boy says, smiling at both of them.


When she was in tenth grade she read Romeo and Juliet with her class, and she was the only one who didn't kiss the teachers ass and sing its praise. She hated it, and said so, because it was unrealistic and just plain crap. Shakespeare wrote better, and she made sure her essay said so. Even as an English major now, her paper clearly states that Romeo and Juliet is overrated, and her professor - who, as Sam reminds her, has devoted his life to learning Shakespeare and teaching it - still gives her an A.

Sam cooks her dinner as a reward, and lights candles in the bedroom after. "Mood lighting?" She asks, grinning at him and he shrugs.

"They smell like vanilla and lilac, so I thought you might like them," he says.

"I love you," she states simply, and it's the truth.

He takes his time with her then, undressing her, touching her, bringing her off with his fingers and mouth, then with his dick. He guides her with his hands on her hips, pushing and pulling her, up and down in a smooth, slow rhythm. It feels good, too good, having him like this, and she's on the pill so she doesn't worry that they've run out of condoms again; she loves the way he feels like this, naked inside her, the way his heart stutters under her palm planted on his chest.

"I love you," he says. "God, Jess," he breathes, speeding up his thrusts. "I love you so much."

She leans forward and kisses him, slow and gentle, but real, and presses her forehead to his, both damp with sweat. "I love you, Sam. All of you." He groans, moves one hand behind her neck and crushes their mouths together. She comes apart, just like that, shaking and quivering, and she can feel him a moment later, warm and pulsing liquid inside her.

She's content to lay there with him, tangled like this, sweaty and stinking of it, and sex - of each other - while he twines his fingers with hers and traces patterns against her palm with his fingers.

"Tell me something," he says quietly while the candles are burning low. "Tell me a secret."

She doesn't have many of those, but she has a few because everyone does. She thinks maybe, if she tells him one, he'll tell her one - one of those kinds of moments. There are things in her life she's never told anyone, never wanted to tell anyone, but somehow with Sam, she doesn't mind so much.

"My dad was a drunk," she says. "And my mom wanted to leave for a long time," she says quietly. "She never did, but... she wanted to. She told me once, that my dad was the biggest mistake she made."


"I think she was right."

"She got you out of it, though," he says, and it makes her eyes burn. Even her mother didn't think that was a good enough end of the deal not to hate her life and everything, everyone in it.

"I lived with my grandparents," she says quietly. "And they were the best people in the world. They loved me more than anyone ever had, ever, Sam."

"You know that I love you, don't you?" He sounds so serious she has to look up at his face. "Jess, you know that I... I'd never just say it just say it. I love you."

"I know," she says and smiles. "Your turn. Tell me a secret, Sam."

"I want to marry you." She stops breathing for a second when he says it, and then kisses him so, so softly. She thinks - no. No, she knows that would be the best thing in the world, to spend the rest of her life as Sam Winchester's wife.

"That's not a secret, Sam," she says grinning. "The gypsy blew you in on that one."

He laughs. "Okay, okay. What do you want to know?"

It slips out before she can stop it. "Who did you love before me?"

He looks so incredibly sad that she wants to take it back. The look in his eyes tells her that he's broken, so much more broken than she imagined, and it makes her ache inside. "I have a big brother," he says softly. "And he... he was my world once."

She brushes the hair off of his forehead with her fingertips and kisses him, pulls him over on top of her and whispers "I'm sorry", lets him slip between her legs again and touch her. She pulls him in, determined to love him the way he deserves, and when he pushes into her again, still warm and slick from before, she makes sure he knows how much she loves him.


It's possible she eats more than Sam ever has, because the kid is tall and damn skinny; still, she's seen him pack it in and eat more than she thought was humanly possible for someone so damn lean. So when she out eats him, he looks a little in awe.

"Damn," he says and laughs, shaking his head. "I think I love you a little more."

So when she thinks she's pregnant, she eats twice as much as she normally does - partially from nerves, partially because if there's another person in there, she isn't sure how much she would need to make sure him or her is getting what he or she needs.

"Jesus, Jess," he says, watching her. "Where does one person put all of it?" he says laughing.

But when she looks up, silent, deer-in-the-headlights look she knows is on her face, he sobers. "Sam," she says quietly, swallowing a mouthful of pulled pork before it's even properly chewed. It's unintentional, but she puts a hand on her stomach and stares at her plate.

"Oh," he says quietly. "Oh," a little more stunned. "Are you... I mean..." he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Are you sure?"

She shakes her head, says "no," and feels a little like she should be ashamed that she's hoping. Would it be so bad if she's pregnant with Sam's baby? If they did this now, earlier than either of them had probably ever planned?

"Do you want me to get you a test?" He asks, sounding a little unsure. "I'll go with you."

She nods, suddenly not so hungry anymore. "Sam, I want..." but she doesn't finish her sentence because Sam comes around the table and gets on his knees in front of her, kisses her, and looks at her face, smoothes his thumb across her cheek.

"It's okay," he says, blush creeping across his cheeks, “I... part of me does, too."

She pictures Sam rubbing her round, pregnant belly, holding a tiny squalling bundle in his giant hands, and it makes her squirm. It makes her want him to take her right there in the kitchen, as inappropriate as it is for the moment. He touches her stomach. "God, Jess, I want... Is that wrong?"

"No," she answers, her mouth suddenly dry, shaking her head.

He leans forward, pressing open mouthed kisses to her stomach through her tee shirt; he lifts the hem to run his hands over her suddenly too warm skin, moves forward so that he's between her knees. "Can I?" he asks, hands running lower over her thighs, thumbs brushing against her through her pants, her panties, making her so, so wet.

"Please," she whispers.

He slides her pants down and off, does the same with her panties and slides her leg over his shoulder. Her fingers tighten in his hair when he uses his tongue, makes her cry out, and she pushes him down right there on the kitchen floor and lets him fuck her.

"Oh god, baby," he mumbles, his voice wrecked, fucking into her so good she can hear the wet noises they make like this, coming so hard his body shakes, filling her up.


Sam's not subtle, not at all. He takes her to a jewelry store and asks her, because his friend from poly-sci is proposing to his girlfriend, what kind of rings girls like. She laughs and tugs him close, kisses his nose and then his lips.

"I love you," she says.

She doesn't need to know anything he doesn't want to tell her. She doesn't need to know why he left his family, why he doesn't talk about or to them, because she has him now, and that's all she needs.

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andiunfold: (Default)

May 2010


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