Hands Off

Pairing: Sam x Gina
Rating: 18+ 
Tags: secret dating, angsty, Dean is a moron, Dean is a wingman, Sam gets jealous, pre-smut
Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Written for Gina’s monthly Triple Tier commission! Hope this is what you were after darling, I had a fun time writing the angst, I don’t do it enough haha.

“I can’t believe that lady thought we were a couple,” you laugh as you push through the door of the bar gratefully. 

“What’s so hard to believe about that?” Dean asks skeptically, and possibly a little bit offended, following you inside.

“I don’t know, it’s just weird,” you shiver dramatically at the thought and Dean rolls his eyes. Settling onto a barstool, you catch Sam’s eye briefly and immediately look down at your hands instead, like that one look would betray to Dean what exactly was so weird about the thought of dating him – namely, the fact that you’re already dating his little brother. 

For a hunter, Dean’s observational skills where the people around him are concerned are worryingly lacking. You and Sam have been seeing each other for months and he still hasn’t noticed. Not that you’ve wanted him to notice but, still, you feel like he probably should have by now. 

“Well, I can see where she was going with it,” Dean soldiers on in his conviction. “Good lookin’ girl like you, handsome guy like me.” Out of the corner of your eye you see Sam’s jaw clench. “Beautiful people oughta stick together,” Dean throws you a lecherous wink and you stick your tongue out, faking a gag. 

“You’re like my brother, Dean. No thank you,” you laugh uneasily, once again fighting the urge to glance at Sam, convinced you’ll look suspicious. 

“Give it a break, Dean,” Sam chimes in, dropping beers in front of you both that he’d just snagged from the passing waiter. “She’s just not that into you,” he smirks, and you can’t help but glance up to Sam and giggle behind your bottle. You’d made Sam watch that with you the other week after you’d found it on Dean’s ‘recently watched’ Netflix list. 

Dean looks at Sam suspiciously but brushes past it, refocusing his attention on you. “Alright, so I’m not your type,” he shrugs, apparently no longer phased by that fact. “What’s your poison?” 

“I don’t know,” you answer noncommittally while your internal thoughts are chanting Sam Winchester like it’s a mantra. 

“C’mon, give us something to work with,” Dean complains, taking a swig of his beer. 

“And what exactly are we working on, Dean?” Sam eyes his brother skeptically over his bottle. 

“Wingmen,” Dean says, like it’s obvious. 

“I don’t think Gina needs a wingman,” Sam dismisses the idea with a glance your way and you back him up. 

“Yeah, Dean, I’m good, really,” you insist but you can see the determination that’s sparked in Dean’s face. He’s not going to let this go, you can already tell. 

“You gotta live a little,” Dean accuses. “C’mon G-man, you said I’m like a brother to you, well, this is what big brothers do.” 

“Big brothers pick you up strange guys in bars?” 

“Sure thing, just ask Samantha here,” Dean slaps Sam on the back and Sam immediately shrugs his brother off of him, annoyed. 

“Fuck off, Dean.” 

“So, c’mon, I don’t want to leave you hangin’ when I take home that little blondie over there,” Dean grins at the back of a girl at the bar with a short dress stretched tight over her ass, long blonde hair swept over her shoulder. “Let me help you find some company for the night.” 

“You’re such a perv, Dean,” you laugh and roll your eyes, meeting Sam’s gaze behind Dean’s back to share a quick smile. 

“And it looks like you’re a perv with competition,” Sam smirks and uses his beer to point at another guy approaching blondie at the bar. He was decent looking, not Winchester level attractive but that was a harsh comparison to measure up to for most guys, and he looked friendly enough, not threatening – guy definitely has a shot with her. Dean whips around to see who Sam is pointing at and gives him a once over, a brief flicker of annoyance crossing his face when he sees that blondie is smiling and chatting with the guy. “Tough luck brother,” Sam grimaces sympathetically but his eyes are full of mirth, and you have to hide a chuckle behind a sip of beer and a cough. 

Dean drains the rest of his beer and claps his hands together like he’s trying to psych himself up for something. You catch the look in his eye that he gets when he’s trying to work through a plan to catch one of your supernatural baddies and a bad feeling starts to settle in the pit of your stomach. “Dean…” you start hesitantly, heart sinking even further when he turns to you with an all too proud of himself grin. He flicks his eyebrows up a couple of times and then turns away without a word, heading towards blondie and her new companion at the bar. Crap. 

You have no idea what he’s saying to them but they don’t turn him away, and he settles into conversation with the pair while he orders another round of drinks and leans against the bar with all his ‘devil may care’, ‘yeah, I’m awesome, I know’ bravado rolling off of him in waves. He catches your eye when neither of his new friends are looking and throws you a wink, pointing very un-subtly at the back of the guy with him. 

“Oh no,” you cringe, dropping your head to the table with a thud. “Sam, what the hell do I do?” 

“Um, play along I guess?” Sam is clearly uneasy. You’d both agreed to keep your relationship private, something just for the two of you, but this situation definitely wasn’t something that you’d prepared to deal with. “Unless, you want to tell Dean…” Sam keeps his face carefully neutral, not betraying a hint of emotion or anything that would let you know what he’d do in your situation. 

“So what, my only options are to go home with some stranger, or tell Dean we’ve been lying to him for months?” 

“Don’t go home with him,” Sam corrects hurriedly, “I just meant, y’know, talk to him for a bit and then just… let him down easy. Tell Dean he wasn’t your type.” 

“Ugh, fine,” you grumble, finishing off your beer and looking around at Dean, holding up your empty bottle to indicate you’re ready for another now. He grins and gives you a wink, scooping some drinks up from the bar-top and ushering his new friends over with him. 

“Ashley, Connor, this is my brother Sam and our friend Gina,” Dean introduces you both as he doles out the fresh drinks. “Gina, Connor is a trapeze artist,” Dean tells you with a raise of his brow as if to say – huh? I did good right? – “and Sam, Ashley’s sister is running a little late because she’s been at the library, studying, but she’s gonna be here any minute.” Dean is clearly overjoyed at his job well done. He’d talked Ashley away from Connor, found you a guy for the night, and somehow found a bookworm for Sam to talk to. 

“Nice to meet you,” Connor holds out his hand for you to shake and you take it politely. It’s not clammy or weird or too hard. He has soft hands, and a friendly shake that actually puts you at ease a little. 

“Nice to meet you too,” you smile and take a sip of your drink. “Sorry about Dean, he’s a little… aggressive sometimes,” you apologise.

“It’s fine,” Connor laughs, and it’s a nice laugh. “To be honest,” he leans in conspiratorially and you lean towards him as well, “I think I’m getting the better end of the deal. Ashley wasn’t really my type, turns out.” 

“You don’t say?” you nod, mildly interested. 

“Yeah, I prefer women who can hold conversations with more than one word answers. Hoping I might have better luck here?” he asks hopefully. 

“Maybe,” you answer with a deadpan expression, hoping you can draw a laugh. If you have to talk to this guy all night then you’re gonna need someone who can get sarcasm. Connor gives you a blank stare for a minute and then catches up and bursts out laughing. You let yourself smile, glancing back at Dean, Ashley and Sam who’s looking at you suspiciously over everyone else’s heads. But at that moment another blonde walks up to Ashley and gives her a hug, and is immediately introduced to Sam and your eye contact breaks. “So, you’re a trapeze artist?”

For the most part, talking to Connor isn’t so bad. He has a pretty interesting life, and he’s happy to just talk and let you listen, which you most definitely prefer so you don’t have to answer awkward questions about hunting and what you do in your spare time. But as the night wears on, and Sam and Dean continue to talk to blonde and blonder, and beer continues to be consumed, Connor starts trying his luck. 

“You know, you’re really pretty,” he says nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink, and you’re caught totally off guard. 

“Uh, thanks,” you try to smile but you’ve never been comfortable taking compliments, particularly from drunk men in bars. “That’s very kind of you.” 

“Well, I’m not saying it just to be nice, I’m saying it because it’s true,” Connor smiles and lays a hand over yours where it’s resting on the table between you. You try to pull back, out of shock as much as anything else, but he has a firm grip holding you down to the tabletop. “Whaddya say we get outta here?” Connor stage whispers, giving your hand a squeeze. 

“Um, listen, I’m not really looking for that sort of thing,” you try to keep your voice light, apologetic and not provocative, even though you just want to punch him straight in his stupid, smiling face. 

“Aw, don’t be like that baby. I know girls like to play hard to get so they don’t get judged for going home with someone but there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun. No one will think any less of you,” Connor tries to reason and you just roll your eyes. 

“I know guys don’t like to hear ‘no’, but sometimes that’s all it is. Just not in the mood tonight,” you finally manage to tug your hand away and pick up your drink to take it somewhere else but then Connor’s hand is on your shoulder, pulling you back towards him. “Hey, I said no,” you start to round on him but suddenly find your way blocked by a wall of plaid.  

“Hey man, hands off,” Sam steps in out of nowhere, anger rolling off him in palpable waves. 

“Sam, leave it, c’mon,” you tug on his shirt and try to pull him away. “Don’t make a scene.” 

“What’s your problem, Big Foot?” Connor scoffs, trying to shove past Sam to get back to you. 

“You’re my problem,” Sam counters calmly, violence reigned in slightly from where it had been a moment before, but he takes a threatening step towards Connor, towering over the smaller man, and you see Sam’s hand twitch towards the back of his jeans where you know his pistol is stashed. You reach out and slap his arm to tell him to knock it off. 

“Well now you’re both my problem!” You slam back the remainder of your drink and storm off, not caring if either of them follows you but knowing that Sam will. You make it to the bathroom at the back of the bar – they only have the one, not labelled specifically for men or women – and push inside but you don’t lock the door. A moment later Sam follows you in, face thunderous, and he slams the latch into place much harder than necessary. 

“What the hell was that about, Gina?” Sam hisses, and you can’t believe it. Is he actually mad at you right now? 

“Excuse me? What the hell were you thinking? You weren’t actually gonna shoot the guy were you?”

“If he didn’t keep his hands off you he definitely wasn’t going to be sticking around to see the end of the night,” Sam’s voice climbed higher in volume and pitch, like it always did when he was exasperated. 

“I was handling it, Sam.” You feel your face heating up and your eyes shooting daggers in your boyfriend’s direction. “I’m not some damsel in distress you have to come save. I’m a hunter, same as you, I can take care of myself.” 

“So what, I’m not allowed to want to protect you?” 

“No! I don’t need protecting, Sam, that’s my whole point! This is exactly why I don’t tell anyone we’re dating, because the second I do you’re gonna have an excuse to start treating me like glass wherever we go! I don’t want a protector Sam, I want a partner.” 

“Why is it so bad that I want to keep you safe?” Sam complains, eyes imploring, and he closes you against the bathroom counter with his body, taking your hands and pressing them to his lips. 

“We’re hunters, we’re never gonna be safe,” you answer him more gently, letting some of your anger drain away. “I don’t need us going into hunts with you thinking about how you need to protect your girlfriend, or with Dean thinking that if he gets your girlfriend killed then he’s screwed. We don’t need that extra pressure.” You reach up and brush some hair out of Sam’s face, and turn his head to make him look you in the eyes. 

“Okay, so hunts aside, what about Mr. Grabby out there? You can’t blame me for wanting to step in.” Sam bargains. 

“I had it–” 

“I know you could have taken him,” Sam interrupts. “That’s not the point.”

“Oh yeah? Then what is?” 

“I don’t want some dude’s hands all over what’s mine,” Sam whispers, pulling the hand that Connor had been holding to his lips and brushing them against the backs of your fingers. 

“Oh, so you were just jealous?” You roll your eyes, boys are so predictable. Sam gives a small shrug and shoots you a smile through his lashes. 

“Should I have been?” Sam asks, voice dropping huskily. “Do I need to remind someone just who they really belong to?” A surge of heat flushes over your skin and settles in your stomach. You know this voice, it’s one of your favourite things about Sam, the switch he can flick to go from ‘gentle giant’ to this absolutely sinful, domineering personality. 

“Well, what would this reminder entail?” Your eyes flick up to his teasingly. “Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re still in the bathroom of a crappy dive bar. Not a lot of scope for your… usual methods.” 

“Oh I haven’t forgotten where we are, baby girl,” Sam leans down and grabs you by the thighs, hoisting you up to sit on the counter behind you. “And I think this is the perfect place for my ‘usual methods’.” He dips his head to nose along your neck, dropping kisses over your veins where he must be able to feel your heart beating a mile a minute. “I think letting Connor hear just how much you belong to me, and not him, sounds like the perfect reminder to me.” 

“Wh– what about Dean?” You stumble over your words as Sam starts sucking a hickey into your neck, much higher up than he normally would, marking you somewhere visible. 

“He already left with that girl, it’s just us left baby.” He pulls you into a searing kiss, licking into your mouth and sucking your tongue back into his. It’s wet and sloppy and desperate and with every press of his lips to yours you can feel another part of your body getting wet too. “Whaddya say baby girl? Should we let all these people know just who you belong to?” You rest your forehead against Sam’s, breathing heavily, and flick your eyes up to meet his. 

“I think this is a better way to get people to keep their hands off than shooting them,” you giggle, and dive back in for another kiss, using Sam’s hair to tug him against you, and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“Agreed,” Sam laughs and pulls away to yank your shirt over your head before pulling his own off as well and then dropping to his knees between your legs. He thumbs open your jeans and pulls them down to your ankles, along with your panties, leaving you bare and glistening in front of him. He smiles widely, excitement cruelly evident, and looks up at you mischievously from his knees. “But I’m gonna make sure it’s just as loud,” he winks, and then dives in.