Five Times Jess Noticed (That Sam Wasn't Quite Normal)

[mass_hipgnosis]

Title: Five Times Jess Noticed (That Sam Wasn't Quite Normal)

Summary: Pilot wasn't the first time her boyfriend did something to make her think, Oh-kayy, that's a little weird.

Pairing: Sam/Jess, implied Sam/Dean

Rating: pg-13 *facepalm* I'm so ashamed!

Warnings: implied underage incest, implied het, schmoop, secret-keeping, gratuitous violence.

Author's Notes: My first attempt at writing for the Meme That Ate Fandom For Breakfast (AKA five things). I always thought that Jess was smart enough to know that there was a lot of stuff she didn't know, and that she loved Sam enough not to pry.

---

One

They met at a fraternity party junior year.

Jess had been dragged to the Omega Chi bash by her roommate, and escaped to the front porch after an uncomfortable ten minutes being eyed, groped, hit on, and (almost!) puked on during her trek to the bathroom. She was savoring the solitude and relative quiet when she saw a guy leaning against one of the porch pillars just outside the circle of the light over the door. He was slouching, hands jammed in his jeans pockets, and looking 'as relaxed as a whore at a church picnic,' as Jess' great-gramma liked to say. "Um. Hi."

He flinched, looked up, and smiled at her, white teeth gleaming in the dimness. He straightened up a bit and Jess could see a killer set of dimples. "Hey. You look familiar. Aren't you in my Art History class?"

"I-maybe. I think so," Jess murmured, trying not to blush. She knew he was-he was one of three guys in a class of fifty, and definitely the best-looking. "I'm Jess."

"Sam." He grinned again, shook her hand, and maintained eye contact with no detours to her chest, even though it was on display in the red halter top Marnie had insisted she wear. He was either gay, or the last gentleman in California. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too. You look like you're as thrilled to be here as I am," she observed. No one else was outside in the foggy damp with them-all indoors getting drunk as fast as possible.

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, this isn't really my kind of thing, but my roommate, Eric, says I'm socially underactive."

"Same here-my roommate Marnie is inside." She smirked at the hollers of 'CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!' from inside. "Classy place."

"I heard Better Homes and Hovels gave it 5 stars," he agreed. "Listen, do you wanna get out of here, maybe go get a cup of coffee or something?"

"I can't." She winced, then quickly added, "I don't want Marnie walking back to our dorm by herself," cursing her good-girl tendencies for wrecking this chance with the best-looking guy she'd seen in just about ever.

"That's okay. Really," he insisted, sounding like he meant it. "Can't be too careful on a full moon."

Jess blinked. "Uh, what?"

He shrugged one shoulder, looking somewhat sheepish. "It sounds stupid, I guess. I'm not saying there's werewolves out lurking in the shadows or anything, but...weird stuff does seem to happen. Self-fulfilling prophecy?"

"Maybe." Jess smiled again, seeing that he wasn't crazy after all, just a little bit of a geek. A pretty cute geek. "But my uncle's an ER intern, and he says that not only are they busier on full moons, that's also when they get the really bizzare cases."

"Darwin award candidates?" he inquired slyly.

"By the truckload." Jess edged a little closer to him, looking up at him through her lashes. "And I'd love a rain check on that coffee."

"Only if you let me walk you and your roommate back to your dorm when you're ready to go," he countered, a frown between his brows when he saw she was about to refuse. "Feminism rah-rah, but that doesn't change the fact that pound-for-pound, a guy's got more upper-body strength."

"So you're saying you're being chivalrous, not a chauvinist pig?" she teased him.

He snorted. "My brother's the chauvinist pig," he joked, then his eyes darkened as soon as the words were out.

"You have a brother?" Jess asked tenatively. He'd been the one to mention it, but from his bleak expression, it was a tender subject.

"Yeah. Older brother." A quick, forced smile, lips tight.

"Oh. Does he go here?"

That made Sam laugh. "God, no. Dean and Dad don't believe in higher education. I'm kind of the black sheep of the family."

Her nose crinkled adorably, and she giggled. ""Yeah, I can see where you'd be a real embarassment, all smart and handsome and courteous. They must be so ashamed."

"Handsome, huh?" His lip quirked upward, and her cheeks flushed.

Jess was thankful that Marnie chose that exact moment for a dramatic entrance. "Jess, I swear, if you're still out here moping alone instead of-oh." She eyed Sam up and down. "Well. Way to go, honey!"

Jess rolled her eyes. "Marnie, this is Sam. Are you ready to go?"

"Are you?" she purred, inclining her head in Sam's direction with a complete lack of subtlety.

"Sam's coming with us," Jess said, before she realized how that sounded.

"You ho!" Marnie yelped. "I thought I was supposed to be the slutty one in this friendship!" She tottered on her icepick heels with the force of her laughter.

Jess was sputtering, offended, when Sam defused things by replying gravely, "I'm just walking you ladies to the door tonight. I never put out on the first date." He offered Jess his arm with a flourish.

* * *

They ended up making their way down Sepulveda and back to campus with Jess on one side of her roomie and Sam on the other, keeping her on her feet in four-inch heels, despite the fact that Marnie was drunk off her ass. They were passing the small strip mall across the street from the campus proper when Jess heard footsteps echoing in the fog.

Sam froze at the first low chuckle. "Hand over your wallet and your honeys and keep on walking, kid, if you wanna make it to sunrise."

Jess barely had a moment to register the words before Sam was pushing her and Marnie toward a doorway alcove and hissing, "Keep your back to the wall and go for the eyes or the crotch, don't let go of Marnie!" and turning to face the gang.

Jess stumbled back, watching the six guys close in. TWo of them had knives, and she saw the way they looked at her chest and Marnie's legs and choked on bile and coppery terror.

"Aww, lookit the White Knight," one of them sneered.

Jess watched as Sam shifted his stance and seemed to gain six inches and forty pounds in a matter of seconds. She'd noticed that he was tall, of course, but in his olive-green hoodie and baggy jeans, all easy grins, he'd seemed lanky and affable and unthreatening. Time slowed to a crawl as she realized that his shoulders really were quite broad, and he was probably six-five in his stocking feet and-this was all that kept her from becoming a gibbering wreck-didn't look threatened or cowed in the least.

Jess half-expected him to make some macho action hero smart remark, but instead he shrugged one shoulder a little, looking almost bored. "Ready when you are, boys." Polite, even when faced with the scum of the earth.

The two with the knives went first, running at him with arms raised to stab. Jess flinched, but Sam moved with catlike grace, striking out with hands and feet in a blur of motion, and then his attackers were on the pavement and Sam was armed, knives angled downward in his grip like they were an extension of his body.

The remaining four swore and jumped him at once, slash-kick-thump and three were down. Sam threw one of the knives and caught the last fleeing gang member in the calf-he shrieked as his led collapsed under him.

Still moving with that eerie stalking grace, a warrior's economy of motion, Sam produced plastic zip-straps from a hoodie pocket and started hog-tying their attackers to a parking meter in a tangle of arms and legs, patting them down for weapons as he went, and instead finding several baggies of yellow crystals and white powder. He appropriated the injured man's belt and used it as a tourniquet for his leg, giving the wound a cursory examination before advising his victim, "It missed the vein. You'll live."

He glanced back at the doorway then. "You girls all right? Did you get hurt when I pushed you?"

Jess was still gaping like a landed fish, but Marnie piped up, "I twisted my ankle."

"Well, let's get you home, then." Sam dropped both knives down a storm drain and stood, pulling a cell phone from his pocket and dialling.

Sam was close enough that Jess could hear the tinny voice of the operator, "911, what is your emergency?" as Sam knelt to check Marnie's ankle.

"You should send a car to the strip mall near the corner of Sepulveda and Palm," he said. "There's six gangbangers waiting for a pickup, and they have enough blow and meth on them for a dime stretch in lockup; one of them is gonna need medical attention. And tell whoever catches the case to run these assholes for any unsolved rapes or assaults in the area."

"Sir! Sir!" Sam hung up on the frantic operator, pocketed the phone, and stripped out of his zip-front hoodie, dressing Jess in it like a limp doll before she even realized she was shivering.

"Just shock, Jess," he soothed her, cupping her cheek. "You need to puke?"

"N-no." She shook her head, feeling numb.

"Okay, then." And just like that, he scooped Marnie up as though she weighed nothing and stood. He had blood on the knee of his jeans. "Jess? Come on, darlin'. I don't have a free hand, I need you to stand up, okay?"

Jess got shakily to her feet. "Marnie?"

Her head lolled against Sam's shoulder. "M' ankle...God, it hurts."

"It's a bad sprain," Sam confirmed. "We'll get it wrapped and iced at your dorm. What hall are you in?"

"Stevenson."

"Me too. All right. Jess, can you get yours and Marnie's purses? Can you do that?" he crooned, using a low, soothing tone, like she was a skittish horse. She blew out a shaky breath, feeling like she was made of glass, and complied. "Hook your fingers through my belt loop, and put one foot in front of the other, okay? I'll take care of the rest."

And he did, getting them both to room 219B through the haze of unreality that was twining itself around Jess' brain like fog or cotton wool, dulling everything. Once he'd put Marnie down on her bed, he eyed Jess warily, like she was a wild creature he wasn't sure how to tame. "If I run downstairs for my first-aid kit, will you let me in when I get back?" he asked her bluntly.

Jess simply dipped a hand into her purse and handed over her room key before curling up in a ball on her bed. She closed her eyes, but heard Sam's gusty sigh, felt him run a hand over her hair. "Okay, then."

He was back moments later with an ACE bandage and a gel ice-pack for Marnie's ankle, a couple of ibuprofen and and a can of ginger-ale.

"Here." He handed her the ginger-ale. "Get under the covers and sip that until the shakes go away, all right?"

Marnie, cushioned by the alcohol in a way that made Jess regret not hitting the keg at Omega Chi, slurred, "That was surreal. Like something out of a Jet Li movie. How'd you do that? Did you, like, take karate as a kid or something?"

Sam didn't look up as he replied, "My Dad's a Marine-six years of active duty at the tail end of 'Nam. My mom died when I was a baby, it was just me an' Dad and my older brother, and Dad was more used to soldiers than kids, so..." He lifted one shoulder in a not-quite shrug. "We bounced around the country, looking for work or better weather or somewhere more interesting, stayed with Dad's Marine buddies a lot."

"So you were, like, in boot camp for your whole childhood? Did you use guns and hunt and stuff?"

"Yeah." Sam paused, then said, fierce eyes locked with Jess' glassy ones, "I was a crack sniper shot and could field-strip and reassemble an M40 in 51 seconds by the time I was ten. For my thirteenth birthday, we had war games-me and my brother against Dad and four of his buddies from Basic."

"Whoa." Marnie blinked once, very slowly. "Who won?"

"We did."

"But you were just a kid!"

"That was my arguement. I wanted to play soccer and be in the school play and go to college. So here I am."

Jess swallowed hard. "Um. Sam? Why didn't we wait for the police?"

"Because I didn't feel like explaining why I was carrying restraints and a switchblade that's an eighteenth of an inch over the legal limit for concealed weapons." He could see she was about to ask why an eighteenth of an inch, and pre-empted it with, "My brother's idea of a joke. He has problems with any authority figure that isn't Dad."

"Oh."

Sam's eyes turned liquid and pleading. "I want to be a civil rights lawyer. With a mortgage and a big slobbery dog and a swing set in the backyard. I came to Stanford because I want to be normal." Normal people don't carry switchblades, leaped to Jess' tongue, but she bit it back. "Still want that raincheck?"

Jess thought of a child so comfortable with weapons that they were an extension of his body, of his pantherish grace in a fight and blase attitude toward violence. She also thought of dimples and a gentleman who didn't drink or 'put out' on the first date and had a passionate appreciation for Magritte's artwork. "Yes. I'd like that."

He grinned, so open and happy it warmed her like sunshine. "Awesome. How about I swing by at 10 tomorrow morning? I'll even bring some coffee and breakfast for the invalid."

Marnie groaned. "Ooh. No breakfast. Mocha."

"Mocha and plain toast," Sam insisted. "You'll want T3s for the ankle and the hangover in the morning, and I won't give you any on an empty stomach."

"Bossy. Chocolate pop-tart?" Marnie wheedled.

Sam caved under her puppy eyes, an adorable six-foot-forever pile of goo. "Chocolate pop tart, chocolate mocha, and another cold pack." He eyed her ankle, frowning. "And my roommate owes me a favor-I'll send him over to fetch you things and fan you with palm fronds or something until we get back. I'm really sorry about your ankle, Marnie."

Seeing that Sam was genuinely distressed when he'd saved them from being robbed, raped and possibly killed, Jess had an awww moment. A guy who could go from action-hero to Jane-Austen hero was definitely a keeper. "It's not your fault, Sam," she assured him. "Beer bongs and stiletto heels don't mix, right Marnie?"

"Never again. Birkenstocks."

"That's a little extreme." Sam offered a crooked smile. "I prefer three-inch espadrilles myself. More stability."

Jess choked on her laughter, and forgot to ask Sam why he carried a switchblade, restraints, and the rosary and small vial of holy water she'd found in the pocket of his hoodie.

---

Two

She took Sam home with her to Carmel for the Christmas holidays.

Her parents were a little wary, worried that she was so serious about a boy she'd only just met in October. Jess didn't bother trying to explain-Sam had to be experienced, the juxtaposition of sir-yes-sir military mentality and mulish stubbornness, white-knight gallantry battling the typical male distaste of anything resembling a household chore. She knew her mother would love him and was worried her father would hate him; Ashley Moore was a card-carrying pacifist.

Jess' kid brother opened the door, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. "You're ginormous!"

"Nicky!" Jess hissed.

"Well, he is!" Nicky whined. "How'd you get so big?"

Sam fought a smile. "I ate all my green vegetables," he replied gravely.

"Euw. Even brussels sprouts?"

"Even brussels sprouts," he confirmed.

Nicky looked Sam up and down once more, then took off for the kitchen. "Mo-om! Are we havin' brussels sprouts for dinner?"

"Well, my Mom's gonna love you, that's for sure," Jess observed wryly. "Hel-lo? What, no one greets the prodigal daughter anymore?"

An older man with Jess's blue eyes framed by wire rims came into the hallway. "Jessie!"

"Hi, Daddy!" Jess allowed him to sweep her up for a hug.

"So. This is the boyfriend." Ashley eyed him narrowly.

Jess rolled her eyes. "Yes, this is 'the boyfriend,' " she mocked. "Sam, this is my dad, Ashley Moore. Don't mind him-he isn't housebroken yet."

"Jessica!"

"You were rude first," she pointed out.

"It's okay, Jess. He's your father-he's constitutionally required to give me a hard time." Sam extended his hand. "Sam Winchester. Nice to meet you, sir."

"Don't 'sir' me, Sam, or we're gonna have a problem."

"Yes, si-" Sam bit his lip. "All right, Mr. Moore."

"So, where are you from, Sam?"

"Kansas, originally."

"Kansas originally," Ashley echoed. "And more recently?"

"Kind of all over. We moved around a lot after my mom died."

"Ash, if you're going to interrogate the boy at least let him get in the door!" Mrs. Moore called from the other room.

"Yes, honey!" he hollered back. "Let's go sit in the den," he suggested to Sam, with a smile that was more a show of teeth than anything friendly. "We can get to know each other."

"That sounds like a threat," Jess observed wryly. "I think I'll come with you."

When they were settled, Jess and Sam on the couch and Ashley in a wingback chair, he continued the cross-examination. "Jess told us about how you met." His lips tightened. "Considering what could have happened, I can't say I'm sorry you were there, or that you were armed, but do you normally carry a weapon, Sam?"

"Habit," was Sam's terse reply.

"You're a little young to have formed a habit like that. Jess mentioned your father was in the military?"

"He's a Marine. I don't mean to be rude, Mr. Moore, but I'm not really comfortable talking about this. Dad and I are...maintaining radio silence these days."

Ashley settled back into his chair, some of the tension going out of his shoulders. "Well. I certainly understand that-my father was career military, and when I turned eighteen, I took a scholarship to Berkeley to study english literature. I imagine your father was about as happy as mine was when you made the announcement."

Sam inclined his head slightly. Even after more than two years, the memory stung. "His exact words were, 'If you leave, stay gone.'"

"That rings a bell," he agreed. "But I have to ask, if you were so against following in his footsteps, why you still..."

"Follow in his footsteps?" Sam finished for him.

"Well...yes."

"My earliest memory is of my father showing me and my brother how to sneak up on a herd of deer from downwind. I think I was about three. I only had a nodding acquaintance with normal before I came to Stanford. It's...taking me time to adjust."

"Huh. Well, I can appreciate that, but I've always been morally opposed to violence of any kind, and while you're in this house, I would appreciate it if you weren't armed."

Sam nodded. "I can understand that, Mr. Moore. But I don't go to the bathroom unarmed."

"Sam-" Jess hissed.

"Jess, I'm sorry. But we talked about this. Do you remember what happened last time?"

"What happened last time?" Ash echoed.

Jess rolled her eyes. "I told him nobody takes throwing knives to go apartment hunting. Well, wouldn't you know it, that's the day we go upstairs with the realtor and find the current tenant beating the hell out of his wife."

"You're moving in together?!"

"No, no, it's for me and Marnie, Dad."

"Oh thank God. Now, Sam, about-"

"Dad, please don't-"

The doorbell rang. Silence reigned as Nicky answered the door with a holler. "Grampa!"

"Hey, Nicky! How's my little soldier?"

Ashley's eyes flicked to the doorway. "Great, now I'm outnumbered."

Sure enough, a moment later an older man appeared in the door, moving with the erect bearing of a warrior. Nicky was bouncing at his side, chattering away. "...and he's GINORMOUS, Grampa!"

"Hey, there, Princess! Nicky tells me you brought a new recruit!"

"Hi, Grampa." Jess got up for a hug. "Funny you should put it that way."

"Oh?" His eyes sharpened. "And why's that?"

"Jess-" Mr. Moore began.

"What's the SITREP here, AJ?"

"We're having...an applied philosophical discussion about the right to bear arms."

"I never did understand what the hell you were talking about half the time, AJ," he observed. He turned to Sam, who had stood. "Maj. Charles C. Moore."

"Sam Winchester, sir."

"And what are you packing that my son is taking such objection to?"

"Ah..." Sam started patting pockets. "Restraints, switchblade, throwing knives, pin razor, lockpicks, and a handcuff key."

Ashley covered his eyes with one hand. "Oh, dear Lord..."

"Leave your .45 at home, did you?" he inquired genially.

"Fortune favors those who are prepared, sir."

"That's what I used to tell my new recruits in 'Nam," he observed, satisfied. "Damn green girls that didn't know enough to take their dicks when they go to the latrine."

Sam blinked at that. It was something his father used to say when he was dealing with especially stupid people. "Echo 2-1?"

"That was my company, kid, but you're a little young to have served under me."

"I think my father did. Cpl. John Winchester? He was a sniper."

"Well fuck me sideways, Rifle John's boy!" Major Moore hooted. "Your Papa's one crazy sumbitch!"

"Yeah, he is that," Sam agreed neutrally.

"Damn!" he marvelled. "Well, Princess, this one gets my seal of approval." The major clapped Sam on the back to emphasize his point.

Sam's lips curled briefly. "Thank you, sir."

"Can't wait until Easter! We'll have to go out to the firing range at the base and burn a few clips, what do you say?"

"Sounds like fun."

And for all his protestations of wanting to be normal, Sam's eyes were shining in a way Jess had only seen before when there was sex or sugar involved.

---

Three

The bible, holy water and crucifix were one thing. When Sam told Jess that he was religious, she believed him, even though she'd never seen him go to church, and he seemed to have no moral qualms about the two of them living in sin. She accepted the weapons, the herbs growing in pots in the kitchen, and Sam's superstitious tendencies, right up to mixing salt in the paint when they painted the windowframes of their apartment.

The silver bullets she found in a small wooden case, though, went a little beyond eccentric. She'd gone into Sam's sock drawer to borrow a pair-she liked to wear his wool socks at home in the winter, her feet always got cold on the bare wood floors-and found a secret instead.

She knew he didn't want to lie to her-but that he probably would, if she asked him what he needed silver bullets for. A frown between her brows, Jess put the box back, and did her best to forget about it.

---

Four

For Sam's twenty-first birthday, Eric, Zack, Becky and Marnie conspired to take him to a gay bar across the bay in San Francisco. Their friends had expected Sam to be pissed or embarassed, but he wasn't, taking it in stride with a smile and a wink when their flamboyant waiter offered to be Sam's birthday present. Whether that was due to Sam's natural ease with people or the liberal application of tequila, Jess wasn't sure-maybe both.

"I think our boy Sammy's a switch hitter!" Eric teased him.

Sam grinned and knocked back another shot and didn't voice anything resembling a denial.

"Sam?" Jess murmured. When they'd first started dating, he'd told her that he'd never been with a girl before. She'd taken that to mean that he was a virgin. It suddenly occurred to her that was a very naive assumption.

"Gonna have to plead the fifth on that one," Sam slurred. "My answer may tend...tend...I'm keepin' shut."

"Samuel Winchester!" Marnie whooped. "Were you performing lewd acts that are still illegal in some states?"

He offered her a dirty grin. "Darlin', the things I did were illegal in all of them."

Hooting and hollering from Marnie and Becky. "Do tell!"

Jess frowned. The only sex acts that were illegal in all fifty states were statutory rape, prostitution, and incest. "Sam."

He was more than halfway through the 21 shots Eric had bought him. "Jess!" he declared, then let out a noise that seemed halfway between a hiccup and a giggle.

"What am I missing here?"

"Not missing anything, gorgeous," he countered with a bleary leer. "You got it all!"

And since she didn't want to have this conversation in public with all of their friends, she let it drop. And she wondered if it had anything to with a picture of Sam and a gorgeous blond kid with their arms around each other that she'd found bookmarking a page in Sam's copy of The California Law Review, but when she asked him the next morning, he wouldn't meet her eyes when he said he didn't know what she was talking about.

---

Five

"Jess! NOOO!"

Sam rocketed out of bed in an explosion of blankets, gasping for breath, tears sliding down his cheeks, silvery in the darkness. Jess turned on the bedside lamp. "Sam, what is it? Are you okay?"

"Jess!" He gripped her shoulders painfully tight, eyes tracking over her, as though he was looking for injury. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, bewildered. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He sagged. "Thank God."

"Sam, you're scaring me. What is going on?"

"Nothing." He dredged up a shaky smile that wasn't the least bit convincing. "It's nothing, really. I guess...I guess it was just a dream."

---

Comments

[sabrinagb.livejournal.com]

Wow and wow. Those are great. I loved each one of them for a variety of reasons.

1. I like the way that he just dealt with it, offered himself up and let Jess make a choice in the end.

2. I love the younger brother calling Sam 'ginormous' and Grandpa knowing John and approving of Sam because of it. As much as Sam might want to disagree with his Dad, other people knew and respected him for the things Sam rejected.

3. This one hurt just a bit because Jess should have been able to ask, but she knew better and never had a piece of Sam.

4. I love his ease with being in a gay bar, with taking the night as it comes and with being just far enough gone to not realize that he's given himself away...and so sad that he had to lie to her about Dean. It really makes me want to see what came before and after these interludes at Stanford.

5. This one tears my heart out because at this point it is a dream, only a dream. But, we all know where it is headed.

So, anyway...loved them and have them book-marked to share.

[mass-hipgnosis.livejournal.com]

It really makes me want to see what came before and after these interludes at Stanford.

You are an evil, evil plot-bunny-giver. :S
Am now working on it.

Thank you for the gorgeous feedback!

[sabrinagb.livejournal.com]

woo-hoo! yay for sequels or extra parts!!!

[patasola.livejournal.com]

Jess' kid brother opened the door, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. "You're ginormous!"

I love the Moore family, lol.

Seriously, I love any fic that deals with Sam pre-series, and this is totally awesome. I always figured he wouldn't be completely able to hide his past, and Jess' grandpa knowing Sam's dad was awesomeular. <--- totally a real word.

Thanks for sharing! :)

late reply is late....

[mass-hipgnosis.livejournal.com]

Yay for making up new words! Thanks for the comment and sorry for taking so long to reply!

[trinipedia.livejournal.com]

one of the best Jess fics I've read, and your Sam is simply perfect. amazing job, amazing.

I'm gonna read through your fic list, because I adore your style.

[mass-hipgnosis.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the deluge of comments! Sorry these all got ignored in favor of Bigbang until now! ♥

[shantirosa.livejournal.com]

Ooh wow. Your take on Jess is awesome, and just makes me sort of mad she didn't love, LOL. I found my way here through spnstoryfinders, by the way. ;)

[mass-hipgnosis.livejournal.com]

Dude, I got recced on spnstoryfinders? Awesome! Glad you liked my Jess; I'm normally a wincest kind of girl so I don't know where this came from actually.

[immovinout.livejournal.com]

Fantastic! :)

[mass-hipgnosis.livejournal.com]

Thanks! ;D

[sweetlittlefire.livejournal.com]

i almost forgot there were five moments you were writing about. i got stuck on the first one and was like "whoa the Knight-and-Shining-Armor!Sam is smokin hot!" heh. this was a great collection. i like jessica's voice, and I also the fact that you wrote about Sam having a hard time adjusting to Normal. (let's face it, Winchesters and Normal don't really go together! LOL. they're freaks but they're hot, chivalrous people saving freaks that we fangirl about!)

sorry i'll stop now.

good fic. i shall favorite it.

[mass-hipgnosis.livejournal.com]

Don't stop, I love it! Heh. I know Sam probably kept Mum about his childhood while he was at Stanford, but I wanted to write a Jess who at least suspected. I'm glad it worked for you! *hugs*

[huntress69.livejournal.com]

I was going to ask for this at spnstoryfinders but decided to check the "5 times" fics at Sinful and there it was. I couldn't find it in my Mems cause it was under your name and I didn't remember you wrote it - bad me. Now I also put it in Mems under 5 times/5 things fics. Once again, I loved it and it's my fav 5 times fic. That's all.

[white-monarch.livejournal.com]

Awesome! Love your style darling!

[luvspnl.livejournal.com]

"And what are you packing that my son is taking such objection to?"

"Ah..." Sam started patting pockets. "Restraints, switchblade, throwing knives, pin razor, lockpicks, and a handcuff key."

Ashley covered his eyes with one hand. "Oh, dear Lord..."

I loved Jess' family!! And each take on Sam, white-kniight to drunk and over talkative! Love, love, loved this!

[quarterwhore.livejournal.com]

LOVE THIS. I don't think I'll ever get enough of Stanford!Sam. Brilliant job, hon. ♥

[vail-kagami.livejournal.com]

Lovely view on Sam through the eyes of someone whonever really got the whole picture. I really liked this!

[cmdc.livejournal.com]

Yay, I do enjoy a good outsider fic. Poor Jess.

[elwarre.livejournal.com]

I love it. What a beautiful perspective on Sam. Thank you for sharing!

[safiyabat.livejournal.com]

I really enjoyed this. I love fics that show Jess as noticing all of the little tells, and I love fics that show some of the little ways that Sam didn't fit quite as easily at Stanford. I love the little touch about how their families were linked, too!

[sw0rdy.livejournal.com]

This was recced recently and I can see why. Thanks for sharing :)

[frozen_delight]

Wow, what a brilliant fic! I loved BAMF!Sam at Stanford, the hinted Sam/Dean, and Jess was great too.
Thanks so much for writing and sharing.

[nomercles.livejournal.com]

WOW. My favorite was the bit where Sam talked shop with Jess' grandfather. I grinned all through that. I know Sam wants to be normal (whatever the hell that really is), but there is a part of him that deeply respects the military and the people in it, and by God, he is a soldier. He might be a slightly unusual one, but he is a soldier. It was nice to see him not just be that, as on the show, but really embrace it.

(There's a bit waaaay out in Season 8 or 9, I can't remember which, where he does something similar, albeit very, very briefly, and it makes me just as happy to see Sam feel whole for once).