Jump

Warning: Slash.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the Supernatural.

Pairing: Dean/Harry/Sam

Word Count: 409 (only actual Drabble)

Jump

Smiling, Sam Winchester silently snuck up on his lover, who was too caught up in his book to notice the tall brunette slowly creeping up on him. Smirking, Sam silently placed his hands in inch away from Harry's shoulders, leaning down and holding his breath until he was a hair's breath away from the back of Harry's neck and breathing in deeply, making his voice as husky and deep as he could make it.

"What 'cha reading?"

Harry jumped, squeaking loudly and accidentally tossing his book aside. Gasping, Harry clutched at his chest, staring at a laughing Sam with wide eyes before hey quickly narrowed into a glare.

"Sam!!"

Harry finally whined, annoyed at the laughing brunette. Only, his complain only served to make Sam laugh harder, falling to his side and hugging himself, he was laughing so hard.

"And you say Dean is immature," Harry huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and sulking.

At the sound of his name, Dean peaked his head from the bathroom, smirking.

"Ha! You hear that Sam? Harry likes me best," The man grinned smugly and childishly, sticking his tongue out at Sam and sauntering over to Harry, wrapping his arms around the raven haired male's waist and nuzzling his shoulder affectionately.

Having finally stopped laughing, but still amused, Sam rolled his eyes at his brother.

"Hm, I'm not sure that's what you were saying when Dean was hitting on that nurse yesterday," Sam offered slyly, casually.

Dean immediately shot his younger brother a glare while Harry shot Dean a glare.

"What about you and Ruby? Or Meg?" Dean shot back, smirking at Sam's horrified look.

"What about you groping Jo!"

He snapped back.

"Yeah, well at least I didn't sleep with two demons!"

Rolling his eyes at what was essentially his lover's pissing contest, Harry stood up, stretching and making his way to bed.

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to bed," Stopping at the door to the hotel's bedroom, Harry smirked, his back turned to Sam and Dean, both who had stopped bickering at his statement.

Not a moment later, Harry was greeted with the sound of faint arguing and hurried footsteps before his door opened.

Harry's amused laugh was cut off as a pair of lips crushed into his own, his laugh turning into a moan as a hand slid around him.

It was times like these he remembered why he put up with his two lovers.