...you fool - Collector's Edition
May. 8th, 2014 12:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alexisjaneBack before the beginning of time...well when I first join LJ in October...I wrote these short ficlets prompted by this post on Pinterest. I'm currently re-jigging my Masterlist and decided to tidy these up a bit by sticking them in the same post...for reasons...except it won't let me so there's a link at the bottom to another page.
12648 words over 20 ficlets
I'm grouping them kinda by rating, also for reasons...
They are unbeta'd and there are spoilers and Wincest galore...that's the only warnings you're getting...you guessed it...for reasons...: ) x
He's been trying not to stare but Dean's not making it easy. He's not even doing anything but it's still making Sam hotter than hell.
Dad's journal is open on the diner table in front of him. They got a call from Ellen and he's supposed to be scanning it for a mention of something that eats hearts but just gets grumpy when you shoot it with silver.
He's not.
He's been sitting there, prodding at his salad, watching Dean eating a burger, absent-mindedly turn the pages of the paper, hunting for a hunt of their own. Not exactly an unusual Thursday lunchtime.
Except, for some reason, every time Dean opens his mouth and bites into that lucky burger, the sight of him baring down, head slightly tilted to one side, lips pressing together, fingers dimpling into the sesame bun, the slight moist ripping noise, his lightly stubbled jaw rocking as he chews, eyelids languidly drooping in pleasure…
Sam shifts in his seat, trying to relieve the discomfort growing in the crotch of his suit.
Dean took another bite messy bite. It's bad enough him stuffing the loose salad between his lips with his fingers but Sam's eyes get exponentially wider at the sight and sound of Dean's lips smacking as he sucks some rogue ketchup from his calloused thumb.
Sam loses it.
Raising his ass out of his seat, with one hand leaning on the table, he takes hold of Dean's shirt collar and jerks him forward, pressing his lips onto Dean's burger full mouth.
Dean tries to mumble "What the hell!" but the combination of the burger and Sam's opportunistic tongue, reduces the sound to a mumble. The surprise melts to amusement as he feels Sam's mouth biting and sucking his lips, and reaches his burgerless hand up to his neck, dragging his jaw down, pulling him in. He starts to smile even before Sam pulls away but when he can see his brother sprawling back on his side of the booth, grinning and chewing, he feels obliged to frown as he looks back down at the paper,
"Dude! if you want a burger, order your own!"
Sam sniggers quietly to himself until the matronly waitress stops at the table to top up their coffee.
"Oh dear, Hun, you've got a bit of ketchup there" She does everything but spit on the napkin. Sam tries his best to politely to wrestle her away when she starts to wipe at his face.
Dean looks up and laughs, catching sight of the fry cook as he does. The guy stares at them bug-eyed and fish mouthed through the serving hatch. Dean throws him his best grin and winks. The large sweaty man blushes like a little girl and disappears from sight.
-----
The sensation was beyond pleasure but so completely devoid of it too somehow.
When it came, when he let it happen, it didn't just build gently like in the beginning. He didn't have to drag every ounce of energy out of himself anymore. It surged through him, filling him, possessing him, overpowering him. Almost.
And that, he knew was the source of his addiction.
The flesh-raw, naked-nerve, ocean-swell, almighty Power that had violated him, was under his control. All he had to do was close his eyes and focus, just like Ruby had shown him.
And regardless how many times he told himself or Dean that it made sense, that he was saving people, that he could kill Lilith, he knew damn well that he liked this. He liked the way it made him feel. He put up with the bloody noses, the headaches, even Dean's constant hounding for this beautiful terrible gratification deep down in his soul.
He didn't need to open his eyes and see the black smoke pouring to the ground and burning up around the bound screaming woman to know it was working. He could feel it.
Being able to reach inside her, groping around with his mind, dragging out the black eyed son of a bitch and feeling him writhe in agony as he burnt up, all without touching anything. It felt pure. He felt pure. For the first time in his life.
He opened his eyes and started to lower his hand. The woman's head was slumped forward onto her chest which didn't appear to be moving. Not exactly the win he was hoping for.
Something else was moving though, out of the corner of his eye. His head whipped round and he instinctively held out his hand, drawing up on the Power inside, ready to go again.
But it was Dean, not another demon.
Sam wished that it was another demon.
Dean was silent. His body tense and hard as his green eyes as he walked towards him.
He was pissed. Understandably so. Sam had promised. Again. And yet again had broken that promise. Whatever was coming he deserved it. He shuffled on the spot but didn't turn away and drew himself up ready for the flurry of punches and cutting accusations that would actually hurt him more. But he didn't seem able to lower that hand.
Dean stepped forward until Sam's hand touched his chest. Sam flinched away from the contact but Dean was quick and grabbed his wrist with both hands, his eyes not leaving his brother.
As Dean raised Sam's hand up, Sam braced himself. He'd had his fingers broken before. It was never good but seeing the pain and betrayal on Dean's face he knew that he deserved this. At least this.
Deans thumbs rubbed up the inside of Sam's wrist and palm, stretching his fingers out until he was holding them splayed and vulnerable. Sam's breath hitched and he tried his best to keep his cool. But then Dean looked down, his eyes moistening and stared at the palm. Then leant in and pressed his dry lips to its centre.
Sam was so shocked, he all but cried out. Dean held him there for two heartbeats that lasted an eternity and then let go. Sam snatched his hand away, unable to conceal his horror and confusion. Dean didn't bother to look back up. He turned and walked away like nothing had happened.
Not the exorcism, not the kiss. Just drifted away, saying matter of factly, "We need to go. Bobby called. He's got a line on Lilith."
Sam stared after him.
A beating would have been better.
----
"What is it?"
Sam laughed, "It's a present, dumbass! Open it"
Dean shook it. The familiar noise brought out a slightly worried look, "You got me music?"
Sam smiled "Yeah, I know. But I think you'll like it, so…"
The neat newspaper wrapping fell quickly to the floor. Dean just stared at the small plastic box in his hand.
Sam shifted in his seat "Do you like it?"
"Like it?" Dean was transfixed. "Like it! This is 'Listen to my Bluebird'. This is…"
Sam had heard this all before and couldn't help interrupt "…the only time Zepplin played 'Ramble On' in full. In concert. I know. Do you like it?"
"Like it!" Dean finally looked up, his eyes wet but sparkling. "Sammy this is the best present ever!" Suddenly he was reaching out and grabbing Sam's face. He leant over and planted a huge wet sloppy kiss on his cheek.
Sam laughed loudly and pushed him off, "Hey! Not in front of the angel! He might get the wrong idea."
Cas, who had stood motionless in the corner, shifted uncomfortably and replied "I'm afraid it's too late for that, Sam."
Dean laughed and jumped out of the chair, babbling excitedly "This is so awesome! Where did you get it? Actually nevermind. I'm gonna jump in Baby and play it right now. You coming, Sammy! Cas?"
Sam laughed and waved him away. "No man. You and Baby have some quality time together. And when you get back there'll be pie"
"Seriously! Awesome!"
The door slammed and two minutes later, over the squeal of tyres, everyone in the motel knew what Sam had got Dean for his birthday.
--------
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and yawned. He was tired. They were all tired. Time was running out and he didn't need to look at the clock to know it. If they didn't find the right spell soon that poor stupid girl was going to die. And not in anyway that was good.
But, my god, he was bored.
And hungry.
But mostly bored.
He felt like he read the damn spell book a hundred times already and still nothing. The words were swimming on the page and he just couldn't seem to focus any more.
The sun had set and risen with the three of them sat in pretty much the same positions at Bobby's, Sam on the couch, Dean in the chair opposite and Bobby at his desk, piles of books like a fort surrounding them.
Except Bobby hadn't been sitting for a while now.
Dean couldn't be sure whether it was the eyestrain or Bobby behind him, pacing and pacing, muttering and cursing to himself, that had given him the blinding headache.
Bobby punctuated another lost hour by yelling "Balls!" and throwing his heavy, loud book down before picking up another and starting the process all over again.
Yeah, could be either or both.
Or maybe he was just sobering up.
God, he was hungry.
He rubbed a hand over his face and looked up at Sam, ready to offer a kitchen run. Then thought better of it
Sam was fuming.
He was staring down intently at the tome on the table in front of him, wide eyed, jaw working, shoulders twitching and shifting. Dean knew that Sam needed relative peace to work in and that even he, for some unknown reason, was capable of irritating Sam while he researched.
So the fact that Bobby's flouncing about was pissing Dean off…yeah, Sam was definitely on the verge of losing it.
They had already had one bust up that night that got way too close to blows for Dean's liking. He wasn't prepared to have to go through the rigmarole of calming them down again.
Sam's hands bunched into fists and raising his head, he took a deep breath.
Dean rolled his eyes and did the only thing he could think of.
Quickly leaning forward over the table, he put one hand on Sam's thigh and reached for the book sitting next to but slightly behind him on the couch, bringing his face right up to his brother's. Sam glared at him. Dean smiled. And then brushed his lips fleetingly over Sam's. Then sat back down, opening the book on his lap, and grinned.
Sam's face was a picture. Utterly swept blank with surprise and horror that Dean would do something like that.
And in front of Bobby.
Dean could see the 'whatwereyouthinking!' wheels spinning in Sam's brain and chuckled silently to himself.
He was sure the old man would be far too engrossed to have spotted it.
Well, 80% sure.
Settling back, he planned to try and read at least one page before heading for the fridge.
Sam sat motionless and eventually breathed out. Bobby didn't look up from the pages,
"You got something to say, boy?"
"Yeah...I found it"
-------
"Oh Sammy, come on!"
Sam had shot to his feet and already made a move to storm away but turned back and glared down at Dean. "No, fuck you, Dean! Just…Just once I'd like to feel…normal. Just once!"
Then he was off.
Not out of the bar as Dean expected but over to the pool tables on the other side of the large room.
Dean shook his hanging head and stared at the beer bottle in his hand, avoiding the stares of the people around him.
He couldn't see them but they had to be looking at him like the asshole he was.
He smiled awkwardly to himself.
It was ironic, really. Sam had finally accepted everything. He didn't seem to hanker for a different career, or life, anymore. He was hunter now, all in, like it should be. Happy to live on the road. No more surreptitious searches for colleges or planning what to do after it was all over. Willing to do whatever was needed to get the job done.
And even the thing between them had been resolved. They had both struggled with it in different ways in the beginning but now, now it was the two of them, together, all in, like it should be.
Except Dean kept fucking it up.
There were times, places, when, with the best will in the world, they had to keep their mouths shut and their hands off each other.
It was just common sense. And in some cases, the law.
But then there came times and places, like this. A gay bar in San Francisco. It didn't get more perfect than this. If there was any place that Dean could give his brother what he wanted, some semblance of normality or their twisted version of it anyway, it was here.
Dean hadn't wanted to go, all he could think was drag queens and bondage gear.
Turned out it was just like a regular bar, even the music was fairly decent. They were having a really good evening, gearing up towards a pretty spectacular night.
But then Sammy had leant over to kiss him and Dean flinched away. And of course, made it oh so much worse by trying to make a joke out of the whole thing. Even the extra special smile just seemed to pour fuel on the fuck up.
The beer bottle squeaked in Dean's hands as he wrung it in frustration. Then he nearly spilt the damn thing when he clocked some guy sidling over to Sam and, oh my god, buying him a drink. And Sammy just letting it happen.
There was only one thing for it.
Dean stood, took a deep breath and roughly straightened his jacket. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible but not succeeding, he walked over to where Sam was leant on the bar, totally letting the drink-buying jerk hit on him.
He had to clear his throat twice before Sam decided to turn round.
Sam glared and Dean's courage faltered.
As did his voice. "..m….ree"
Sam leant his head down and squinted "I'm sorry? Did you say something?"
Dean sighed and took a deep breath and too loud said "I'm Sorry!" It got everyone's attention but he did his best to keep his eyes on Sam. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I know I can be a shit bro…boyfriend.." The word made him wince but Sam appreciated it "…sometimes. I will make it up to you. Anyway you want."
Speech over, he nodded to himself and sighed. Then putting one hand on Sam's chest he craned his neck up and gave him a peck on the lips, instantly feeling the flush of pink colour his cheeks. He flashed the drink-buying jerk, who was standing there smirking, his best 'touch him and I'll end you' look, before scurrying back to the safety of his beer.
He couldn't help smiling as he downed it in one draft. He could see Sam making his way back to the table out of the corner of his eye.
The make up sex was going to be awesome.
-----------
Dean swung the axe and missed.
The vampire lunged at him but Dean was quicker. He took a step back and to the side, using the vampire's own momentum to send him sprawling onto his face. Dean swung the axe over his head and brought it down onto the creature's neck with every bit of strength he had left.
It was enough.
The axe hit with a sickening thwack and it's head rolled away leaving a gushing river of blood behind it.
Dean's relief was short-lived.
Sam's scream cut through the sudden silence.
Dean froze inside but his body took over and staggered off in the direction of the barn, praying Sam was still where he left him and that he wasn't too late.
They should never have come.
The nest had turned out to be a whole lot bigger than they had expected but even still, that last hunt had really taken it out of them both so they weren't at full strength.They should have waited.
The thought that Sam might be dead or worse flooded Dean with adrenaline as he kicked open the barn door and burst through, "Sam!"
It took his eyes a moment to register in the gloom. Three headless bodies lay sprawled out like some macabre slumber party on the blood-soak straw that covered the floor. A cursory glance told him the none were Sam but it didn't ease his panic. He raised up the axe ready to swing and yelled again "Sam!"
"Um…here." The sheepish tone wasn't what Dean had expected but he rounded the stack of bails that blocked his view with caution and a little relief.
When he saw what was on the other side, he stopped, raised his eyebrows and lowered the axe to the ground. "How the hell did you get up there?"
Sam smiled, mortified, upside-down, swinging gently as he slowly rotated, suspended by one foot from the hayloft above. "I tripped…I got tangled and tripped, okay. Just…cut me down before I pass out!…Dean!"
Sam had turned so far round that he couldn't see Dean but he could hear him laughing. He tried to jerk his head round to flick himself back but he just succeeded in flapping about like a fish on a line and didn't get anywhere. "Goddammit! Get me down, you ass!"
Dean chuckled quietly and rested forward onto the long handle of the axe. "Oh, I'm the ass! You're the one strung up like a Christmas Turkey!"
Sam stopped struggling and let his body go limp. "Dude. Seriously. My leg is killing me."
Dean took a long breath and walked forward, muttering "Okay, Sammy. But, my god, the possibilities…"
Sam breathed a sigh of relief when Dean snatched Sam's lost machete poking out of the straw beneath him and headed toward the rickety ladder in the corner.
But then Dean stopped and spun on his heel.
"What are you doing?" Sam had a sneaking suspicion why Dean was grinning and jogging back towards him "Oh god, your not…"
Dean shrugged and placed a hand on either side of Sam's inverted face. "Come on Sam. When else am I going to get the chance?"
Sam huffed and closed his eyes so he didn't have to look up Dean's nose. "Well hurry up, my foot is about to come off, you jerk!"
Dean brought his mouth up to Sam's so he could feel the whisper on his lips. "Bitch."
Sam was surprised how uncomfortable his jeans suddenly became, being that the majority of his blood was in his upstairs brain but managed to stammer. "I'm..so cancelling your Netflix account."
Dean smiled. And kissed him. Even though he was purple.
------
Dean felt like he was going to explode.
With manliness. definitely manliness.
Oh, who was he kidding.
He felt like all his Christmases were coming at once. And not the crap kind that he and Sam tried to cobble together every year. No, it was a whole bunch of Christmases with turkey and real presents bought from a store and a proper tree and pie. And more pie.
Pie could wait. His excitement was even dulling his appetite
Sammy was coming home and he felt like he was going to burst.
Before Sam had left to stay with Bobby, six minutes apart had felt like an eternity so six months had seemed impossible. And it was nearly over.
As long as Dean didn't total the Impala in the next couple of miles.
For once, nothing terrible had happened. A hunt came up that John knew would take a huge chunk of tracking time and Sam was facing the last half of his senior year so it just seemed to make sense for him to settle at Bobby's until it was all over.
Neither boy had really liked the idea of being apart. Hell, even Dean had gotten all weepy at one point but they both knew it made sense.
Even still, the last few nights they were together, Sam had crawled into Dean's bed whether he was convinced John was asleep or not. Which wasn't unusual, they'd shared a bed whenever they'd felt like it since they were kids except that the last year or two, whenever they did, neither of them got much sleep.
They had talked on the phone practically everyday.
Sometimes Dean would just have to sit in silence, pretending that he couldn't hear the sobs at the other end of the line while he quietly wiped away his own tears. Most of the time they just talked about nothing, teased each other and roared with laughter and, if they were really lucky and were both alone, the sound of Sammy gasping, coming apart right in his ear would make Dean call out his name as he came, hard and loud. And generally drop the phone, which was gross and hard to explain if he didn't clean it up well enough.
Although not as hard to explain as the time he had seen Sam's number flash up and had answered it with a low "what are you wearing?", only to hear, a frankly horrified, Bobby at the other end. And Sam laughing in the background.
When John had asked him if he'd mind going to pick Sam up, it was all he could do to seem vaguely okay with it. Once out on the highway, he'd whooped and beaten the steering wheel until his palms were sore. When he got the message from Sam to say that Bobby had to go help Rufus with, well, 'some damn fool thing' was all he'd said, and that he'd be back in the morning, Dean had put his foot down.
Pulling into the junkyard, he had to remind himself to let the car stop before he opened the door and jumped out. Sam was sat in the fading gold sunlight, a cooler by his side and a beer in his hand, wearing the loose blue shirt that Dean had bought him for his birthday. Except it wasn't that loose anymore. Dean got out of the car but had to take a moment, arm resting on the open door, just to catch his breath.
Sam looked good, looked healthy. And most importantly, looked pleased to see him. Really pleased.
Dean figured running would probably look pretty uncool so he just grinned and sauntered over. He still had his big brother image to maintain regardless of what he would look like later, sweating and breathless with Sam inside him, begging him to come and never leave him again.
Sam stood and Dean felt his breath hitch in his chest.
Sam was...beautiful. His chest and arms were straining the light fabric as he moved towards him. He had definitely filled out.
And up.
Sam had been pretty tall the last time they had been together but now Dean's head was having to tilt at an uncomfortable, unfamiliar, angle to look at him.
"What the hell has Bobby been feeding you?"
Sam laughed and said "Shut up" as he bent down into Dean's open arms.
They held each other, crushing the air and yearning out of them. Dean pulled away slightly and turned his head, his lips searching for soft lips. But they found only stubble. Opening his eyes, he saw Sam's starting to crinkle with amusement.
"Seriously, what have you been eating!?" Dean tried to sound annoyed but was smiling. Sam cheeks flushed and him pushed his brother away, laughing.
"I haven't changed that much have I?"
"Dude, my mouth only reaches your chin, so I'm going with, yes!" But then seeing Sam rub his arm the way he always had when he felt self-conscious, thought Maybe not so much.
"It's not a bad thing, Sammy. I've just missed you"
"I've missed you too" They held each others gaze for a moment before Sam broke it. "You hungry?"
Dean smirked and raised an eyebrow as he ran his eyes over Sam's body "I'd say so"
Sam laughed " Oh really? You wanna see what else has got bigger in the last six months?"
Dean swallowed and pushed Sam roughly towards the house with one hand and a gruff "Upstairs. Now".
They only had twelve hours left until Bobby got back.
And he was going to need every one.
----
Dean could resist almost anything.
Anything but that.
And if Sam ever figured it out…well, he just had to make damn sure he didn't.
Sam's hands on him…he could deal with that.
Despite the instant redirect of his blood supply, Dean had realised early on that he had to be able to be touched by his brother without turning to pudding or life together was going to be pretty difficult.
Just the thought of them, the large strong fingers, calloused but gentle moving over his skin, gripping his flesh as they pulled him in, carding through his hair, cradling his head when they kissed, palms pushing or pulling him to get the angle right, filling him or teasing him.
Yeah, the hands were good but he could deal with that.
Sam's mouth…not a problem.
Well, combine it with those big soft eyes and it was a challenge but he could handle it.
Even when he got that look, that doe-eyed, puppy dog, I-can-make-you-do-anything-I-want look, there had been times that he had just swallowed down the urge to reach out and devour Sam on the spot.
Not many, true. But it had been done.
As long as he wasn't thinking about the way Sam's lips part as his eyes roll back in his head when Dean's tongue found just the right spot. Or the way he grits his teeth, panting raggedly through them just before he comes or the desperate pleading look when he begs Dean to touch him, hurt him, come inside him.
As long as he didn't think about that, he was just fine.
The way Sam moves…bring it on.
Sure, the way he would run his hand absently through his stupidly long hair, hooking it behind his ear when he was reading, or the way his shoulders would square up before he fired a shotgun, or the way his whole body seemed to drop when he let out one of those uber-bitch sighs which were so adorable…oh god, and watching the man work out…all that golden skin over taut muscle, it was a thing of absolute beauty. But he could resist. He could. He didn't want to very often but he could if he felt like it.
So why in the hell did he lose his mind over that spot.
That inch of flesh.
He saw it all the time, saw Sam naked all the time but it never bothered him then.
But seeing him reach up to get a book, or stretch after a long drive or just lean back in his chair and the damn thing would be peering out at him and he just couldn't help himself.
He had tried subtly to encourage Sam to buy shirts with a little more length in them but being so freakishly tall, they hadn't made much of a difference. One false move and there it was, hard muscle with a layer of soft skin, just the hint of downy hair through the centreline of the V formed by his hips that led down to unfathomable pleasures.
And Dean would be instantly hard and on his knees, trying not to be too obvious but eventually his face burying into Sam's stomach, all teeth and tongue, biting and sucking, desperate to taste him. Even in public, he couldn't fight it. He would have to stifle a groan behind a fake cough and find a way to slip a hand under Sam's shirt surreptitiously or press his groin against him, until he could get Sam alone and inside him, one way or another.
Dean was powerless against the lure of the pelvis. It was his kryptonite. And he didn't like it. He knew if Sam ever realised it, he'd totally go Lex Luther on his ass. It was bad enough being Sammy's bitch without him gloating over it too.
Sam wasn't sure why research was making him horny, disembowelment could be further away from sexy if it tried.
Maybe it wasn't the research.
Dean had been sitting with that furrowed brow, pretending to read for a while now and it was damn distracting.
Sam hated to do it, no point pulling out the big guns if he didn't have to but he wasn't sure either of them were in the mood for a long drawn out seduction.
So he groaned and linking his fingers, pressed his palms towards the ceiling and stretching high as he could, sighed loudly. "I've got nothing. How about you?"
----------------
"Sam…Sammy. You awake?"
The whisper sounded surprisingly loud from under the covers. Sam really wasn't in the mood for whatever Dean was up to. He had an English test in the morning and then John had been planning some kind of endurance training in the afternoon which he'd tried and failed to get out of. It made sense if he wasn't allowed to use a shotgun yet that he should be able to get the hell out of dodge as quickly as possible. Even if it was only so John or Dean didn't get killed trying to protect him. Either way, brain and body needed to be rested. Not woken at…
"What time is it?"
"About three."
"Is everything okay?"
"Yes…I just…" He could hear Dean shuffling on the carpet, crouching next to his bed and turned to face him, pulling the sheet down off his face.
"What? Dean, I have a test…"
"Shh. You'll wake Dad! I just want to try something"
"At three in the morning?"
Dean sighed and hung his head in the gloom. WideAwakeSam would have found it highly amusing and would have revelled in teasing but SleepySam felt bad. It wasn't often that he dropped the big brother act. It was too easy to forget, with all the responsibility heaped on him, that he silently accepted and bore like an adult, that he was really just a fifteen year kid, deep down as awkward and self conscious as any other.
"I'm sorry, Dean. Tell me."
"Okay. I was just reading this thing…"
"Reading?" Sam wasn't trying to sound bitchy but it came out that way. Dean huffed in the dark and Sam knew he was losing patience.
"I just wanna try something is all!"
"Okay okay! I'm sorry"
Dean shuffled closer in the darkness "Okay. Just lean over and keep really still."
Sam propped himself up on one elbow but leaned back "Why?" The memory of the chilli eating 'contest' was still quite fresh in his mind.
"Come on Sam! Don't be a baby. Just hold still 'til I say"
Sam muttered but did as he was told until he could see Dean's face closing in on his in the dark. "Wha…what are you doing?"
"God, stop being a brat about this. Just shut up for two seconds!" The hissing whispers were getting progressively louder but the noise of John shifting in dark made them freeze until Dean felt safe enough to mouth "Stay. Still"
Sam sighed but did.
Carefully, Dean brought his face to Sam's until his eye socket rested on his cheek. Then he fluttered his eyelashes.
"What does that feel like?"
Sam suddenly wasn't sure whether he was actually awake or not. "I dunno. It tickles, I guess"
Dean pulled his head away and sat for a second. "Huh…do me"
Sam sighed but obligingly leaned over and did the same to Dean's cheek as he held it out in the dim light. Then sat back and waited for Dean to speak.
"Huh. That's what I thought. Okay. Back to sleep Sammy."
Sam sat there dumbfounded as Dean's dark shape slid back up under the covers of his own bed, illuminated moments later by the muted glow of a flashlight.
Sam flopped back on his pillow, bemused but somehow not surprised. He prepared to pull the sheet back over his head and succumb to his sleepiness but couldn't resist whispering across the void, "What are you reading?"
The flashlight snapped dark and by morning the memory was dark too.
(All The Rest)
12648 words over 20 ficlets
I'm grouping them kinda by rating, also for reasons...
They are unbeta'd and there are spoilers and Wincest galore...that's the only warnings you're getting...you guessed it...for reasons...: ) x
He's been trying not to stare but Dean's not making it easy. He's not even doing anything but it's still making Sam hotter than hell.
Dad's journal is open on the diner table in front of him. They got a call from Ellen and he's supposed to be scanning it for a mention of something that eats hearts but just gets grumpy when you shoot it with silver.
He's not.
He's been sitting there, prodding at his salad, watching Dean eating a burger, absent-mindedly turn the pages of the paper, hunting for a hunt of their own. Not exactly an unusual Thursday lunchtime.
Except, for some reason, every time Dean opens his mouth and bites into that lucky burger, the sight of him baring down, head slightly tilted to one side, lips pressing together, fingers dimpling into the sesame bun, the slight moist ripping noise, his lightly stubbled jaw rocking as he chews, eyelids languidly drooping in pleasure…
Sam shifts in his seat, trying to relieve the discomfort growing in the crotch of his suit.
Dean took another bite messy bite. It's bad enough him stuffing the loose salad between his lips with his fingers but Sam's eyes get exponentially wider at the sight and sound of Dean's lips smacking as he sucks some rogue ketchup from his calloused thumb.
Sam loses it.
Raising his ass out of his seat, with one hand leaning on the table, he takes hold of Dean's shirt collar and jerks him forward, pressing his lips onto Dean's burger full mouth.
Dean tries to mumble "What the hell!" but the combination of the burger and Sam's opportunistic tongue, reduces the sound to a mumble. The surprise melts to amusement as he feels Sam's mouth biting and sucking his lips, and reaches his burgerless hand up to his neck, dragging his jaw down, pulling him in. He starts to smile even before Sam pulls away but when he can see his brother sprawling back on his side of the booth, grinning and chewing, he feels obliged to frown as he looks back down at the paper,
"Dude! if you want a burger, order your own!"
Sam sniggers quietly to himself until the matronly waitress stops at the table to top up their coffee.
"Oh dear, Hun, you've got a bit of ketchup there" She does everything but spit on the napkin. Sam tries his best to politely to wrestle her away when she starts to wipe at his face.
Dean looks up and laughs, catching sight of the fry cook as he does. The guy stares at them bug-eyed and fish mouthed through the serving hatch. Dean throws him his best grin and winks. The large sweaty man blushes like a little girl and disappears from sight.
-----
The sensation was beyond pleasure but so completely devoid of it too somehow.
When it came, when he let it happen, it didn't just build gently like in the beginning. He didn't have to drag every ounce of energy out of himself anymore. It surged through him, filling him, possessing him, overpowering him. Almost.
And that, he knew was the source of his addiction.
The flesh-raw, naked-nerve, ocean-swell, almighty Power that had violated him, was under his control. All he had to do was close his eyes and focus, just like Ruby had shown him.
And regardless how many times he told himself or Dean that it made sense, that he was saving people, that he could kill Lilith, he knew damn well that he liked this. He liked the way it made him feel. He put up with the bloody noses, the headaches, even Dean's constant hounding for this beautiful terrible gratification deep down in his soul.
He didn't need to open his eyes and see the black smoke pouring to the ground and burning up around the bound screaming woman to know it was working. He could feel it.
Being able to reach inside her, groping around with his mind, dragging out the black eyed son of a bitch and feeling him writhe in agony as he burnt up, all without touching anything. It felt pure. He felt pure. For the first time in his life.
He opened his eyes and started to lower his hand. The woman's head was slumped forward onto her chest which didn't appear to be moving. Not exactly the win he was hoping for.
Something else was moving though, out of the corner of his eye. His head whipped round and he instinctively held out his hand, drawing up on the Power inside, ready to go again.
But it was Dean, not another demon.
Sam wished that it was another demon.
Dean was silent. His body tense and hard as his green eyes as he walked towards him.
He was pissed. Understandably so. Sam had promised. Again. And yet again had broken that promise. Whatever was coming he deserved it. He shuffled on the spot but didn't turn away and drew himself up ready for the flurry of punches and cutting accusations that would actually hurt him more. But he didn't seem able to lower that hand.
Dean stepped forward until Sam's hand touched his chest. Sam flinched away from the contact but Dean was quick and grabbed his wrist with both hands, his eyes not leaving his brother.
As Dean raised Sam's hand up, Sam braced himself. He'd had his fingers broken before. It was never good but seeing the pain and betrayal on Dean's face he knew that he deserved this. At least this.
Deans thumbs rubbed up the inside of Sam's wrist and palm, stretching his fingers out until he was holding them splayed and vulnerable. Sam's breath hitched and he tried his best to keep his cool. But then Dean looked down, his eyes moistening and stared at the palm. Then leant in and pressed his dry lips to its centre.
Sam was so shocked, he all but cried out. Dean held him there for two heartbeats that lasted an eternity and then let go. Sam snatched his hand away, unable to conceal his horror and confusion. Dean didn't bother to look back up. He turned and walked away like nothing had happened.
Not the exorcism, not the kiss. Just drifted away, saying matter of factly, "We need to go. Bobby called. He's got a line on Lilith."
Sam stared after him.
A beating would have been better.
----
"What is it?"
Sam laughed, "It's a present, dumbass! Open it"
Dean shook it. The familiar noise brought out a slightly worried look, "You got me music?"
Sam smiled "Yeah, I know. But I think you'll like it, so…"
The neat newspaper wrapping fell quickly to the floor. Dean just stared at the small plastic box in his hand.
Sam shifted in his seat "Do you like it?"
"Like it?" Dean was transfixed. "Like it! This is 'Listen to my Bluebird'. This is…"
Sam had heard this all before and couldn't help interrupt "…the only time Zepplin played 'Ramble On' in full. In concert. I know. Do you like it?"
"Like it!" Dean finally looked up, his eyes wet but sparkling. "Sammy this is the best present ever!" Suddenly he was reaching out and grabbing Sam's face. He leant over and planted a huge wet sloppy kiss on his cheek.
Sam laughed loudly and pushed him off, "Hey! Not in front of the angel! He might get the wrong idea."
Cas, who had stood motionless in the corner, shifted uncomfortably and replied "I'm afraid it's too late for that, Sam."
Dean laughed and jumped out of the chair, babbling excitedly "This is so awesome! Where did you get it? Actually nevermind. I'm gonna jump in Baby and play it right now. You coming, Sammy! Cas?"
Sam laughed and waved him away. "No man. You and Baby have some quality time together. And when you get back there'll be pie"
"Seriously! Awesome!"
The door slammed and two minutes later, over the squeal of tyres, everyone in the motel knew what Sam had got Dean for his birthday.
--------
Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and yawned. He was tired. They were all tired. Time was running out and he didn't need to look at the clock to know it. If they didn't find the right spell soon that poor stupid girl was going to die. And not in anyway that was good.
But, my god, he was bored.
And hungry.
But mostly bored.
He felt like he read the damn spell book a hundred times already and still nothing. The words were swimming on the page and he just couldn't seem to focus any more.
The sun had set and risen with the three of them sat in pretty much the same positions at Bobby's, Sam on the couch, Dean in the chair opposite and Bobby at his desk, piles of books like a fort surrounding them.
Except Bobby hadn't been sitting for a while now.
Dean couldn't be sure whether it was the eyestrain or Bobby behind him, pacing and pacing, muttering and cursing to himself, that had given him the blinding headache.
Bobby punctuated another lost hour by yelling "Balls!" and throwing his heavy, loud book down before picking up another and starting the process all over again.
Yeah, could be either or both.
Or maybe he was just sobering up.
God, he was hungry.
He rubbed a hand over his face and looked up at Sam, ready to offer a kitchen run. Then thought better of it
Sam was fuming.
He was staring down intently at the tome on the table in front of him, wide eyed, jaw working, shoulders twitching and shifting. Dean knew that Sam needed relative peace to work in and that even he, for some unknown reason, was capable of irritating Sam while he researched.
So the fact that Bobby's flouncing about was pissing Dean off…yeah, Sam was definitely on the verge of losing it.
They had already had one bust up that night that got way too close to blows for Dean's liking. He wasn't prepared to have to go through the rigmarole of calming them down again.
Sam's hands bunched into fists and raising his head, he took a deep breath.
Dean rolled his eyes and did the only thing he could think of.
Quickly leaning forward over the table, he put one hand on Sam's thigh and reached for the book sitting next to but slightly behind him on the couch, bringing his face right up to his brother's. Sam glared at him. Dean smiled. And then brushed his lips fleetingly over Sam's. Then sat back down, opening the book on his lap, and grinned.
Sam's face was a picture. Utterly swept blank with surprise and horror that Dean would do something like that.
And in front of Bobby.
Dean could see the 'whatwereyouthinking!' wheels spinning in Sam's brain and chuckled silently to himself.
He was sure the old man would be far too engrossed to have spotted it.
Well, 80% sure.
Settling back, he planned to try and read at least one page before heading for the fridge.
Sam sat motionless and eventually breathed out. Bobby didn't look up from the pages,
"You got something to say, boy?"
"Yeah...I found it"
-------
"Oh Sammy, come on!"
Sam had shot to his feet and already made a move to storm away but turned back and glared down at Dean. "No, fuck you, Dean! Just…Just once I'd like to feel…normal. Just once!"
Then he was off.
Not out of the bar as Dean expected but over to the pool tables on the other side of the large room.
Dean shook his hanging head and stared at the beer bottle in his hand, avoiding the stares of the people around him.
He couldn't see them but they had to be looking at him like the asshole he was.
He smiled awkwardly to himself.
It was ironic, really. Sam had finally accepted everything. He didn't seem to hanker for a different career, or life, anymore. He was hunter now, all in, like it should be. Happy to live on the road. No more surreptitious searches for colleges or planning what to do after it was all over. Willing to do whatever was needed to get the job done.
And even the thing between them had been resolved. They had both struggled with it in different ways in the beginning but now, now it was the two of them, together, all in, like it should be.
Except Dean kept fucking it up.
There were times, places, when, with the best will in the world, they had to keep their mouths shut and their hands off each other.
It was just common sense. And in some cases, the law.
But then there came times and places, like this. A gay bar in San Francisco. It didn't get more perfect than this. If there was any place that Dean could give his brother what he wanted, some semblance of normality or their twisted version of it anyway, it was here.
Dean hadn't wanted to go, all he could think was drag queens and bondage gear.
Turned out it was just like a regular bar, even the music was fairly decent. They were having a really good evening, gearing up towards a pretty spectacular night.
But then Sammy had leant over to kiss him and Dean flinched away. And of course, made it oh so much worse by trying to make a joke out of the whole thing. Even the extra special smile just seemed to pour fuel on the fuck up.
The beer bottle squeaked in Dean's hands as he wrung it in frustration. Then he nearly spilt the damn thing when he clocked some guy sidling over to Sam and, oh my god, buying him a drink. And Sammy just letting it happen.
There was only one thing for it.
Dean stood, took a deep breath and roughly straightened his jacket. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible but not succeeding, he walked over to where Sam was leant on the bar, totally letting the drink-buying jerk hit on him.
He had to clear his throat twice before Sam decided to turn round.
Sam glared and Dean's courage faltered.
As did his voice. "..m….ree"
Sam leant his head down and squinted "I'm sorry? Did you say something?"
Dean sighed and took a deep breath and too loud said "I'm Sorry!" It got everyone's attention but he did his best to keep his eyes on Sam. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I know I can be a shit bro…boyfriend.." The word made him wince but Sam appreciated it "…sometimes. I will make it up to you. Anyway you want."
Speech over, he nodded to himself and sighed. Then putting one hand on Sam's chest he craned his neck up and gave him a peck on the lips, instantly feeling the flush of pink colour his cheeks. He flashed the drink-buying jerk, who was standing there smirking, his best 'touch him and I'll end you' look, before scurrying back to the safety of his beer.
He couldn't help smiling as he downed it in one draft. He could see Sam making his way back to the table out of the corner of his eye.
The make up sex was going to be awesome.
-----------
Dean swung the axe and missed.
The vampire lunged at him but Dean was quicker. He took a step back and to the side, using the vampire's own momentum to send him sprawling onto his face. Dean swung the axe over his head and brought it down onto the creature's neck with every bit of strength he had left.
It was enough.
The axe hit with a sickening thwack and it's head rolled away leaving a gushing river of blood behind it.
Dean's relief was short-lived.
Sam's scream cut through the sudden silence.
Dean froze inside but his body took over and staggered off in the direction of the barn, praying Sam was still where he left him and that he wasn't too late.
They should never have come.
The nest had turned out to be a whole lot bigger than they had expected but even still, that last hunt had really taken it out of them both so they weren't at full strength.They should have waited.
The thought that Sam might be dead or worse flooded Dean with adrenaline as he kicked open the barn door and burst through, "Sam!"
It took his eyes a moment to register in the gloom. Three headless bodies lay sprawled out like some macabre slumber party on the blood-soak straw that covered the floor. A cursory glance told him the none were Sam but it didn't ease his panic. He raised up the axe ready to swing and yelled again "Sam!"
"Um…here." The sheepish tone wasn't what Dean had expected but he rounded the stack of bails that blocked his view with caution and a little relief.
When he saw what was on the other side, he stopped, raised his eyebrows and lowered the axe to the ground. "How the hell did you get up there?"
Sam smiled, mortified, upside-down, swinging gently as he slowly rotated, suspended by one foot from the hayloft above. "I tripped…I got tangled and tripped, okay. Just…cut me down before I pass out!…Dean!"
Sam had turned so far round that he couldn't see Dean but he could hear him laughing. He tried to jerk his head round to flick himself back but he just succeeded in flapping about like a fish on a line and didn't get anywhere. "Goddammit! Get me down, you ass!"
Dean chuckled quietly and rested forward onto the long handle of the axe. "Oh, I'm the ass! You're the one strung up like a Christmas Turkey!"
Sam stopped struggling and let his body go limp. "Dude. Seriously. My leg is killing me."
Dean took a long breath and walked forward, muttering "Okay, Sammy. But, my god, the possibilities…"
Sam breathed a sigh of relief when Dean snatched Sam's lost machete poking out of the straw beneath him and headed toward the rickety ladder in the corner.
But then Dean stopped and spun on his heel.
"What are you doing?" Sam had a sneaking suspicion why Dean was grinning and jogging back towards him "Oh god, your not…"
Dean shrugged and placed a hand on either side of Sam's inverted face. "Come on Sam. When else am I going to get the chance?"
Sam huffed and closed his eyes so he didn't have to look up Dean's nose. "Well hurry up, my foot is about to come off, you jerk!"
Dean brought his mouth up to Sam's so he could feel the whisper on his lips. "Bitch."
Sam was surprised how uncomfortable his jeans suddenly became, being that the majority of his blood was in his upstairs brain but managed to stammer. "I'm..so cancelling your Netflix account."
Dean smiled. And kissed him. Even though he was purple.
------
Dean felt like he was going to explode.
With manliness. definitely manliness.
Oh, who was he kidding.
He felt like all his Christmases were coming at once. And not the crap kind that he and Sam tried to cobble together every year. No, it was a whole bunch of Christmases with turkey and real presents bought from a store and a proper tree and pie. And more pie.
Pie could wait. His excitement was even dulling his appetite
Sammy was coming home and he felt like he was going to burst.
Before Sam had left to stay with Bobby, six minutes apart had felt like an eternity so six months had seemed impossible. And it was nearly over.
As long as Dean didn't total the Impala in the next couple of miles.
For once, nothing terrible had happened. A hunt came up that John knew would take a huge chunk of tracking time and Sam was facing the last half of his senior year so it just seemed to make sense for him to settle at Bobby's until it was all over.
Neither boy had really liked the idea of being apart. Hell, even Dean had gotten all weepy at one point but they both knew it made sense.
Even still, the last few nights they were together, Sam had crawled into Dean's bed whether he was convinced John was asleep or not. Which wasn't unusual, they'd shared a bed whenever they'd felt like it since they were kids except that the last year or two, whenever they did, neither of them got much sleep.
They had talked on the phone practically everyday.
Sometimes Dean would just have to sit in silence, pretending that he couldn't hear the sobs at the other end of the line while he quietly wiped away his own tears. Most of the time they just talked about nothing, teased each other and roared with laughter and, if they were really lucky and were both alone, the sound of Sammy gasping, coming apart right in his ear would make Dean call out his name as he came, hard and loud. And generally drop the phone, which was gross and hard to explain if he didn't clean it up well enough.
Although not as hard to explain as the time he had seen Sam's number flash up and had answered it with a low "what are you wearing?", only to hear, a frankly horrified, Bobby at the other end. And Sam laughing in the background.
When John had asked him if he'd mind going to pick Sam up, it was all he could do to seem vaguely okay with it. Once out on the highway, he'd whooped and beaten the steering wheel until his palms were sore. When he got the message from Sam to say that Bobby had to go help Rufus with, well, 'some damn fool thing' was all he'd said, and that he'd be back in the morning, Dean had put his foot down.
Pulling into the junkyard, he had to remind himself to let the car stop before he opened the door and jumped out. Sam was sat in the fading gold sunlight, a cooler by his side and a beer in his hand, wearing the loose blue shirt that Dean had bought him for his birthday. Except it wasn't that loose anymore. Dean got out of the car but had to take a moment, arm resting on the open door, just to catch his breath.
Sam looked good, looked healthy. And most importantly, looked pleased to see him. Really pleased.
Dean figured running would probably look pretty uncool so he just grinned and sauntered over. He still had his big brother image to maintain regardless of what he would look like later, sweating and breathless with Sam inside him, begging him to come and never leave him again.
Sam stood and Dean felt his breath hitch in his chest.
Sam was...beautiful. His chest and arms were straining the light fabric as he moved towards him. He had definitely filled out.
And up.
Sam had been pretty tall the last time they had been together but now Dean's head was having to tilt at an uncomfortable, unfamiliar, angle to look at him.
"What the hell has Bobby been feeding you?"
Sam laughed and said "Shut up" as he bent down into Dean's open arms.
They held each other, crushing the air and yearning out of them. Dean pulled away slightly and turned his head, his lips searching for soft lips. But they found only stubble. Opening his eyes, he saw Sam's starting to crinkle with amusement.
"Seriously, what have you been eating!?" Dean tried to sound annoyed but was smiling. Sam cheeks flushed and him pushed his brother away, laughing.
"I haven't changed that much have I?"
"Dude, my mouth only reaches your chin, so I'm going with, yes!" But then seeing Sam rub his arm the way he always had when he felt self-conscious, thought Maybe not so much.
"It's not a bad thing, Sammy. I've just missed you"
"I've missed you too" They held each others gaze for a moment before Sam broke it. "You hungry?"
Dean smirked and raised an eyebrow as he ran his eyes over Sam's body "I'd say so"
Sam laughed " Oh really? You wanna see what else has got bigger in the last six months?"
Dean swallowed and pushed Sam roughly towards the house with one hand and a gruff "Upstairs. Now".
They only had twelve hours left until Bobby got back.
And he was going to need every one.
----
Dean could resist almost anything.
Anything but that.
And if Sam ever figured it out…well, he just had to make damn sure he didn't.
Sam's hands on him…he could deal with that.
Despite the instant redirect of his blood supply, Dean had realised early on that he had to be able to be touched by his brother without turning to pudding or life together was going to be pretty difficult.
Just the thought of them, the large strong fingers, calloused but gentle moving over his skin, gripping his flesh as they pulled him in, carding through his hair, cradling his head when they kissed, palms pushing or pulling him to get the angle right, filling him or teasing him.
Yeah, the hands were good but he could deal with that.
Sam's mouth…not a problem.
Well, combine it with those big soft eyes and it was a challenge but he could handle it.
Even when he got that look, that doe-eyed, puppy dog, I-can-make-you-do-anything-I-want look, there had been times that he had just swallowed down the urge to reach out and devour Sam on the spot.
Not many, true. But it had been done.
As long as he wasn't thinking about the way Sam's lips part as his eyes roll back in his head when Dean's tongue found just the right spot. Or the way he grits his teeth, panting raggedly through them just before he comes or the desperate pleading look when he begs Dean to touch him, hurt him, come inside him.
As long as he didn't think about that, he was just fine.
The way Sam moves…bring it on.
Sure, the way he would run his hand absently through his stupidly long hair, hooking it behind his ear when he was reading, or the way his shoulders would square up before he fired a shotgun, or the way his whole body seemed to drop when he let out one of those uber-bitch sighs which were so adorable…oh god, and watching the man work out…all that golden skin over taut muscle, it was a thing of absolute beauty. But he could resist. He could. He didn't want to very often but he could if he felt like it.
So why in the hell did he lose his mind over that spot.
That inch of flesh.
He saw it all the time, saw Sam naked all the time but it never bothered him then.
But seeing him reach up to get a book, or stretch after a long drive or just lean back in his chair and the damn thing would be peering out at him and he just couldn't help himself.
He had tried subtly to encourage Sam to buy shirts with a little more length in them but being so freakishly tall, they hadn't made much of a difference. One false move and there it was, hard muscle with a layer of soft skin, just the hint of downy hair through the centreline of the V formed by his hips that led down to unfathomable pleasures.
And Dean would be instantly hard and on his knees, trying not to be too obvious but eventually his face burying into Sam's stomach, all teeth and tongue, biting and sucking, desperate to taste him. Even in public, he couldn't fight it. He would have to stifle a groan behind a fake cough and find a way to slip a hand under Sam's shirt surreptitiously or press his groin against him, until he could get Sam alone and inside him, one way or another.
Dean was powerless against the lure of the pelvis. It was his kryptonite. And he didn't like it. He knew if Sam ever realised it, he'd totally go Lex Luther on his ass. It was bad enough being Sammy's bitch without him gloating over it too.
Sam wasn't sure why research was making him horny, disembowelment could be further away from sexy if it tried.
Maybe it wasn't the research.
Dean had been sitting with that furrowed brow, pretending to read for a while now and it was damn distracting.
Sam hated to do it, no point pulling out the big guns if he didn't have to but he wasn't sure either of them were in the mood for a long drawn out seduction.
So he groaned and linking his fingers, pressed his palms towards the ceiling and stretching high as he could, sighed loudly. "I've got nothing. How about you?"
----------------
"Sam…Sammy. You awake?"
The whisper sounded surprisingly loud from under the covers. Sam really wasn't in the mood for whatever Dean was up to. He had an English test in the morning and then John had been planning some kind of endurance training in the afternoon which he'd tried and failed to get out of. It made sense if he wasn't allowed to use a shotgun yet that he should be able to get the hell out of dodge as quickly as possible. Even if it was only so John or Dean didn't get killed trying to protect him. Either way, brain and body needed to be rested. Not woken at…
"What time is it?"
"About three."
"Is everything okay?"
"Yes…I just…" He could hear Dean shuffling on the carpet, crouching next to his bed and turned to face him, pulling the sheet down off his face.
"What? Dean, I have a test…"
"Shh. You'll wake Dad! I just want to try something"
"At three in the morning?"
Dean sighed and hung his head in the gloom. WideAwakeSam would have found it highly amusing and would have revelled in teasing but SleepySam felt bad. It wasn't often that he dropped the big brother act. It was too easy to forget, with all the responsibility heaped on him, that he silently accepted and bore like an adult, that he was really just a fifteen year kid, deep down as awkward and self conscious as any other.
"I'm sorry, Dean. Tell me."
"Okay. I was just reading this thing…"
"Reading?" Sam wasn't trying to sound bitchy but it came out that way. Dean huffed in the dark and Sam knew he was losing patience.
"I just wanna try something is all!"
"Okay okay! I'm sorry"
Dean shuffled closer in the darkness "Okay. Just lean over and keep really still."
Sam propped himself up on one elbow but leaned back "Why?" The memory of the chilli eating 'contest' was still quite fresh in his mind.
"Come on Sam! Don't be a baby. Just hold still 'til I say"
Sam muttered but did as he was told until he could see Dean's face closing in on his in the dark. "Wha…what are you doing?"
"God, stop being a brat about this. Just shut up for two seconds!" The hissing whispers were getting progressively louder but the noise of John shifting in dark made them freeze until Dean felt safe enough to mouth "Stay. Still"
Sam sighed but did.
Carefully, Dean brought his face to Sam's until his eye socket rested on his cheek. Then he fluttered his eyelashes.
"What does that feel like?"
Sam suddenly wasn't sure whether he was actually awake or not. "I dunno. It tickles, I guess"
Dean pulled his head away and sat for a second. "Huh…do me"
Sam sighed but obligingly leaned over and did the same to Dean's cheek as he held it out in the dim light. Then sat back and waited for Dean to speak.
"Huh. That's what I thought. Okay. Back to sleep Sammy."
Sam sat there dumbfounded as Dean's dark shape slid back up under the covers of his own bed, illuminated moments later by the muted glow of a flashlight.
Sam flopped back on his pillow, bemused but somehow not surprised. He prepared to pull the sheet back over his head and succumb to his sleepiness but couldn't resist whispering across the void, "What are you reading?"
The flashlight snapped dark and by morning the memory was dark too.
(All The Rest)
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Date: 2014-05-09 10:48 pm (UTC)Jensen's lips + that collar = dirtybb going straight to hell.
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