Jensen + Sam + Dean = Happy Sam;
Jensen's just moved into a new place, and doesn't have any idea just how much his life is going to change when he meets a youth - Sam - who is staying at the motel with his brother. He ducks his head, hiding behind his bangs as he shuffles further into the room. “So… I guess I should have asked about your job occupation.” -- Letting out a chuckle, I roll my shoulders, “Maybe…. Would that have changed your offer to help?” -- “Probably,” he grins up at me, “Teachers are lousy bastards, don’t you know?”
13,000 words, NC-17, threesome, DP, h/c, bottom!Sammy,
So this is it. The start of a new life. It’s nerve-racking as hell, but there’s also a bubbling excitement that rises up every now and then at the thought of starting afresh.
New town, new house, new job, new life. New me.
This is my chance. My opportunity to live the life I’d always dreamed I’d be living.
Taking a deep breath, I step out of the battered truck and head up the steps, my eyes taking in the overgrown garden and unkempt trees. Mrs Lansy wasn’t lying when she said no one had lived here for a while. The chipped walls and cracked glass windows are further proof of that, but nothing can dampen my mood today, nothing, not even the foul-smelling, dusty interior.
It’s going to take a while to sort this place out, quite a long while. I grin slightly, already picturing what I could get it to look like.
The overwhelming part is deciding where to start.
♥
Clad in a ratty old shirt and a pair of torn jeans, I lug out yet another bag of rubbish. Who would’ve thought that the place could hold so much junk? Sweat’s pouring down my face from all the cleaning, and my throat’s parched due to the plumbing not working yet. I should really go down to the store unless I plan on dying of dehydration.
Just as I’m straightening out, I catch sight of someone who makes my mouth even dryer. He’s on the opposite side of the road, obviously lost in his own thoughts, head down and hands shoved into his pockets. Golden brown hair falls forward, framing his tanned cheeks and curling slightly at his forehead. He’s clearly tall, his lean muscles moving gracefully. Wearing only a form-fitting black shirt and jeans, he somehow manages to look like he’s just tumbled from the pages of a Men’s health magazine.
Glancing nervously down at my own attire, I cringe and hope that the garbage will keep me shielded. Unfortunately, he crosses the street, headed right for me. I hold my breath and take a small step backwards. This, of course, sends me sprawling down with a startled yelp and I land with a groan on one of the garbage bags, feeling like a complete idiot.
“Are you alright?” his concerned voice asks. God, his voice: quiet and gentle, words rolling fluidly off his tongue and slipping past his lips.
I open my mouth to respond, to wave him off, tell him it’s nothing to worry about, that it was my intention to fall into the rubbish, but the lie dies when he comes into view.
My face is flaming as I gaze up at him, he’s so tall and so gorgeous, with the sun back-dropping him and, as he kneels before me, I desperately try to put a name to colours dancing in his eyes, blue? Green? Hazel? Gold? Amber? I give up and snap my gaping mouth shut.
After staring at me for a few moments, he grins shyly and – Oh, God he has dimples – reaches out his hand, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I croak, staring up at him before realising that his hand’s not just there for show. I go even redder and grasp it, feeling slightly surprised at how easily he pulls me up. “Thanks… I was just…” I gesture towards the mountain of junk.
“You just moved in?” His voice, it’s really hard to explain, it just has this calm element to it, not exactly ‘quiet’ as I’d previously thought, more ‘soothing’ than anything.
“Yeah,” I clear my throat, brushing dust from my already filthy clothes. “Arrived yesterday.”
He nods towards the house, “You need a hand?”
It must be pure madness that causes my head to nod and my lips to move, “That’d be so awesome, you have no idea.” The second the words leave my lips, I feel like sinking into the floor and dying, because honestly, no one really wants to help, it’s just a polite question, what the hell am I doing taking him up on the offer?
But then he laughs and the dimples peek out again, making me forget that I’m standing before him looking like utter crap and have just contracted him to clean up junk. “Cool, let me just go change into something else.”
As he begins to walk away, I’m sure I’ll never see him again. He’s trying to get away from the madman who falls into rubbish and traps him into doing chores, he’s… he’s heading into the motel beside my house.
My stomach kind of sinks when I realise this means he’s not here permanently.
Dammit, the first guy I’m attracted to in ages, and he’s gonna be gone soon.
He is really gorgeous, though. And he has dimples.
And the first thing I did was to trip up in front of him. Great. What an awesome first impression. I kick at the offending thing that caused my embarrassment and turn to trudge back inside.
♥
♥
When he shows up again, I honestly feel like melting. It’s seriously not fair that he can look that good in only soft shorts and a tee. Not when I know I look like someone who just crawled out of a gutter.
He ducks his head with a blush when he notices where my eyes are trained, “I know, stupid, right? My brother gave it to me as a joke.”
Huh? I blink a few times and then realise he’s talking about the print on the shirt, ‘Rub my belly for LUCK!’
I grin back up at him, my hand already reaching out and – Oh, god he has muscles under there, - splaying over his stomach. “Maybe this’ll keep me from tripping into more rubbish, hey?”
I suddenly realise that I am currently rubbing a stranger’s belly. A stranger I don’t know anything about besides the fact that he is – utterly gorgeous and adorable and I really want to keep him – staying in the motel next door to me.
But yet again, his laughter puts me at ease, “Hopefully. So, what do you need me to help with?”
Glancing around at the bomb-struck place, I open my mouth, but am unable to decide where to point him.
He grins, “I guess that means everything. I’m Sam, by the way.”
How weird is it that we didn’t even exchange names and he’s already here helping me sort out my life? “Jensen.”
“Cool, so, let’s get started then.”
♥
I keep sneaking glances at him, peeking over piles of stuff I’m supposed to be sorting and then falling into mesmerized dazes as he does something that makes me feel like sighing goofily.
I haven’t felt this way since I was in eighth grade, nearly a decade ago. But he’s so interesting to watch, biting his bottom lip when he’s trying to decide what goes where, furrowing his brow in concentration as he sifts through the scattered papers and deftly sorts them, constantly brushing his hair out of his eyes only to have it fall back seconds later and, most distracting of all is, when he reaches over to grab something, his shirt rides up, giving me a tantalizing glimpse of tanned skin.
Then he’ll glance over in my direction and I’ll have to quickly pretend to be examining something other than him.
“So where did you move from?” he asks softly, his eyes meeting mine over a chair with missing legs.
“From Dallas, I just wanted a new start, you know?”
He nods, complete understanding in his eyes, “Yeah, we all need those occasionally.” His lips quirk at the corners, “So, how’s the new start going so far?”
Why is it so easy to talk to this stranger? I shoot him a grin. “Well, not too bad. My house is a pigsty, my supplies consist only of gum and toothpaste, and I’ve got no running water ‘till Monday, the earliest the plumber can make it.” I shrug sheepishly, “But then again I do have an awesome guy staying next door who has decided to be a martyr and is spending his Saturday sweating his ass off to help me move in. So… yeah, okay, I guess.”
Sam grins at the hidden thanks, but then my words sink in and he frowns, “No running water?”
“Yeah, something about the piping.”
He gets to his feet, “Give me a sec, I’ll be right back.” Then he disappears out the door, leaving me wondering what the hell I said.
A few minutes pass by and then he strides in, a few tools in his hands. “I could probably check it out for you, I’m pretty handy. You mind if I have a look at the water heater?”
Vaguely wondering whether I’m making a mistake, I nod, “Sure, I mean, go ahead. It’s under there.”
He grins and then ducks under the counter. That’s when I have to turn around, subjected to – tantalising gorgeous, tempting – the view of his tightly clad ass.
Sounds of clanking and hammering meet my ears, but I force myself to stay focused on the boxes in front of me.
When he lets out a triumphant cheer and I hear a thud, I turn to find him wincing and rubbing at his head. He groans slightly, “I think I fixed it.”
Sure enough, when I turn on the tap, water comes gushing out. “You are awesome,” I murmur, before moving forwards to gulp some well-needed gallons.
“You’re welcome. While I’m at it, I may as well check your wiring. I can’t imagine there’re any lights that work and it won’t be that nice in the evenings.”
I gape at him, making him flush and amend himself; “Or, I mean, you could get someone else. Someone professional in, if you’d prefer,” he mumbles.
“You are the best,” I manage to get out, enjoying the brilliant flush that spreads to his ears. “Thank you, Sam.”
♥
♥
As the day slips away, so does my awkwardness. It’s not possible to be around Sam and feel awkward, he doesn’t allow it. Using his dimples and shy grin as weapons of mass destruction, he gets me chatting about my family and what growing up in Dallas was like and everything else as well. He seems so interested in the mundane every day life I had as a child and I can’t help wondering what his has been like.
There’s something about his voice that makes me want to share everything with him. Or maybe it’s his eyes, those eyes that change colour faster than I can blink. I don’t think I’ll ever figure out what to label them.
Whatever it was, it has me telling him stuff one would never under any circumstances tell someone you’ve only just met.
Things like how I was once trying to show my dad around the internet (‘cause he kind of sucks with new-age technology) and just as he was getting the hang of it, a bunch of pop-ups filled the page. And they were of porn. With sound. And he thought it was my fault – that I regularly looked up naked chicks doing themselves, I mean - ewww.
It’s worth feeling the familiar flush of embarrassment that I felt back then just to hear Sam laughing so hard he has to clutch the broom to stay upright.
Then, while we’re busy hefting around furniture on the top floor, a loud voice yells from the road outside, “Sam? Where the hell are you?” And Sam lets out a low groan, moving towards the window.
“I’m here, Dean.”
Barely two seconds later, the man is standing before us, his eyes quickly taking in everything, glancing over me and landing on Sam, “You okay?”
With a small smile and an eye roll, Sam nods, “Yeah, dude. Didn’t you see the note I left you? Anyway, this is Jensen. I’m just helping him move in. Jensen, this is Dean.”
Feeling something weird clenching in my chest when Dean moves to sling an arm around Sam’s shoulders and tugs him close, I nod, “Nice to meet you.”
Dean’s eyes are calculating as they examine me, and I find myself doing the same to him. It’s weird seeing the similarities in his features, but we’re blatantly different. He’s a lot rougher, his shoulders broader, his face rugged and eyes sharp. It’s a bit like looking through a distorted mirror.
“Dean,” Sam whines, “Ge’roff.” The younger man ducks out from under Dean’s arm, and something warms in my chest. Then Sam glances up at me, blushing slightly, “Sorry, my brother has no sense of boundaries when it comes to barging into people’s houses.”
Brother? My chest expands and I feel I’m about to burst. I thought they were together, just the way they’re so comfortable together. But I can understand it now. They’re brothers.
A small voice whispers in my ear, ‘So maybe that means Sam’s single.’
I flush and shake my head. “’s no problem, man. I mean, I’m just really grateful for all the help you’ve given me. I don’t think I’d have coped without you.”
Sam ducks his head with another adorable blush, “You’re welcome, man.” He glances at Dean. “I guess I’d better go. I’ll see you around, Jensen.”
“Yeah, I hope so,” I murmur as I follow the pair down the stairs.
♥
Okay, so far my new life has sucked. Well, everything but Sam. He is practically the most awesome thing here.
Well, I mean, okay… fine. I guess it hasn’t been so bad, it’s just that it was so much cooler yesterday when Sam was with me. Today was just plain boring. Sifting through junk and moving around bits of furniture until my back started to ache.
I wonder if I’ll see Sam again. He was staying at the motel, so it’s possible that he’s long gone. Even still, my eyes are constantly being drawn towards to place, hoping for a glimpse of the dimpled kid who makes me feel like a teenager again.
I don’t know what it is about him that pulls me in, but I can’t help wanting to see him again.
Tomorrow I have to start work and I’m nervous as hell. If this job falls through, I’m kind of screwed.
♥
♥
The school is a typical one, streaming with teens dressed in every item of clothing imaginable, from designer clothes to gothic leatherwear. The corridors are filled with loud conversations, sounds of lockers slamming and thousands of feet moving.
I manage to find the principal’s office, and, after the mandatory welcome and briefing, he informs me that there’s an assembly first thing and that staff are obligated to take their seats on stage in a few moments – joy.
♥
The sea of colours and bustling people is terrifying. There are so many of them, some ignoring the principal’s monologue entirely, while others act vaguely interested. As my eyes roam the corners, my heart jumps and I nearly fall out of my seat.
There, with his back pressed against the wall and his arms wrapped around his bent knees, is Sam. His head is tilted back, his body motionless and his eyes shut. He’s beautiful.
I jump as my name is mentioned, and the principal motions towards me, “… new teacher and guidance councillor.”
Nodding towards the crowd, my throat is dry when I turn back to Sam, my breath catching slightly when I realise he’s staring straight at me, his lips parted slightly. I look away first.
How is it possible that I never put two and two together? Sam’s so young and his innocent features should have alerted me to the fact that he’s just a kid. He’s a pupil at the school I’m about to start working at. I’m perving over one of the students. Oh, God. I’m a paedophile.
Before I know it, assembly is over and I’m being led towards my office.
A soft knock on my door has me glancing up from my notes, and there he is, shifting nervously from leg to leg.
“Sam, hey…”
He ducks his head, hiding behind his bangs as he shuffles further into the room. “So… I guess I should have asked about your job occupation.”
Letting out a chuckle, I roll my shoulders, “Maybe…. Would that have changed your offer to help?”
“Probably,” he grins up at me, “Teachers are lousy bastards, don’t you know?”
“Oh, really?”
“Yup,” he nods his head seriously, “But for a teacher I guess you’re not that bad. I mean, you could be a lot worse.”
“Gee thanks,” I growl, flicking a piece of eraser at him. “How old are you anyway?”
“Seventeen in exactly two weeks. What about you?”
“Twenty four.”
“Huh, Dean’s twenty-two,” is all he says, leaning back against the wall. He smiles at me, and I return it without thought.
“So…” I shift back in my chair, stretching my legs out in front of me, “Why is your family staying in the motel? Aren’t you here for long?”
A shadow flickers over his face, but it’s gone a second later. He huffs out a soft laugh, “Never really know. Could be here for months, could be gone in a few days.”
“But…” I frown up at him, “doesn’t that affect your schooling? Are you flunking?”
For some reason he finds this ridiculously amusing.
Two hours later, when he’s long gone and I’m busy rifling through the school files, and I pull out his report card, I understand why.
♥
