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moonlettuceTitle: Saturday Night
Author: Claire
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/Dean/Eliot implied
Rating: PG
Summary: Sam was about to watch Dean get stabbed in a bar brawl with a biker reject and his dozen friends and there was nothing he could do about it.
Notes: Originally written for the following prompt in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic: SPN/Leverage, Dean/Eliot/Sam, bar brawl.
"Dammit, Dean!" Sam yelled, as he ducked out of the way of the pool cue swinging towards his head. "What did I say?"
This doesn't look like such a good idea, Dean, Sam had said. He's got a lot of friends with him, Dean, Sam had said. Maybe we should find another bar to hustle pool at, Dean, Sam had said. Trust me, Sammy, Dean had replied.
Yeah.
"How was I to know the guy was a piss bad loser?" Dean shouted in response, punching someone in the face before they could hit him with a beer bottle.
Sam frowned, just managing to avoid the fist coming at him. This was ridiculous. He was about to yell over to Dean to suggest a tactical retreat when a flash a silver caught his eye.
"Dean!" he hollered, knowing that there was no way his brother would be fast enough to stop the knife. They'd faced down demons, vampires and helped stop the freaking Apocalypse, and now he was about to watch Dean get stabbed in a bar brawl with a biker reject and his dozen friends and there was nothing he could do about it.
Only, the knife wasn't moving towards Dean anymore. Wasn't moving because there was a hand wrapped around the wrist of the guy holding it.
"Now, that's cheating." The stranger's soft drawl was almost drowned out by the shout of pain as the wrist he was holding snapped.
There was silence as the knife clattered to the floor and Sam met an amused gaze.
"You mind?" the guy asked, motioning towards the group still staring in surprise at their friend as he hugged his wrist to his chest.
Sam glanced at Dean. "Be our guest," he answered.
The guy smirked at them. And then he moved, grace and action and restrained violence in one.
"That's-- actually really fucking hot," Dean commented, as yet another of their attackers dropped to the floor.
"Tell me about it," Sam replied.
"This deserves way more thanks than a beer," Dean said carefully.
Sam grinned, reaching out and running a finger over Dean's wrist. Sometimes his brother was absolutely right.
Author: Claire
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/Dean/Eliot implied
Rating: PG
Summary: Sam was about to watch Dean get stabbed in a bar brawl with a biker reject and his dozen friends and there was nothing he could do about it.
Notes: Originally written for the following prompt in
comment_fic: SPN/Leverage, Dean/Eliot/Sam, bar brawl."Dammit, Dean!" Sam yelled, as he ducked out of the way of the pool cue swinging towards his head. "What did I say?"
This doesn't look like such a good idea, Dean, Sam had said. He's got a lot of friends with him, Dean, Sam had said. Maybe we should find another bar to hustle pool at, Dean, Sam had said. Trust me, Sammy, Dean had replied.
Yeah.
"How was I to know the guy was a piss bad loser?" Dean shouted in response, punching someone in the face before they could hit him with a beer bottle.
Sam frowned, just managing to avoid the fist coming at him. This was ridiculous. He was about to yell over to Dean to suggest a tactical retreat when a flash a silver caught his eye.
"Dean!" he hollered, knowing that there was no way his brother would be fast enough to stop the knife. They'd faced down demons, vampires and helped stop the freaking Apocalypse, and now he was about to watch Dean get stabbed in a bar brawl with a biker reject and his dozen friends and there was nothing he could do about it.
Only, the knife wasn't moving towards Dean anymore. Wasn't moving because there was a hand wrapped around the wrist of the guy holding it.
"Now, that's cheating." The stranger's soft drawl was almost drowned out by the shout of pain as the wrist he was holding snapped.
There was silence as the knife clattered to the floor and Sam met an amused gaze.
"You mind?" the guy asked, motioning towards the group still staring in surprise at their friend as he hugged his wrist to his chest.
Sam glanced at Dean. "Be our guest," he answered.
The guy smirked at them. And then he moved, grace and action and restrained violence in one.
"That's-- actually really fucking hot," Dean commented, as yet another of their attackers dropped to the floor.
"Tell me about it," Sam replied.
"This deserves way more thanks than a beer," Dean said carefully.
Sam grinned, reaching out and running a finger over Dean's wrist. Sometimes his brother was absolutely right.
