For necro_omen13 , because she's a sweetheart and I suck. Love you poppet.
Song rec for Number 6, Must Be Dreaming, by Frou Frou. Have rediscovered my love for Frou Frou recently, so hope you like it.
Oh yeah, and I stole this from adja999 , so I hope you approve honey.
One more thing...thank you the_last_shadow and deviouskirin for your help and inspiration guys!
Its the last night before the end of Dean's deal and Sam is on top of him, holding him into the mattress as if that will save his brother. Murmuring words against his skin like I love you, I'm not going to let you go and don't leave me, as if Dean has a choice in the matter.
Sam knows, deep down in his bones, in his very soul, that he can't save Dean, knows it and hates it. The knowledge mocks him, taunting, as Sam marks Dean with teeth and fingernails and words. Etching spells and runes into the skin that in twenty four hours will be in hell.
Dean grips his hair, holding on for dear life and lets a tear slip out of the corner of his eye, lets Sam stop it with his mouth. Lets Sam think that Dean believes that he can save him.
Jess was out. Working away from home for the week when Dean called, in town, his voice needy. It took him an hour to find the house and barrel through the door, pinning Sam against the hallway wall with his hips and his chest, forcing his way into Sam's mouth and a groan.
“Been too long Sammy.” He moans. Sam arches into him, desperate to feel again. To feel Dean inside. They never made it to the bedroom, rutting like dogs in the hallway and collapsing onto the floor in a sweaty heap.
“Let me know next time Jess goes away Sammy.” Dean pressed a kiss to Sam's mouth as he left, hands and fingers lingering on Sam's skin. Sam nodded dumbly, squeezing his lips together to stop himself from telling Dean he wanted him to stay.
“SAM!” Sam grimaces as he hears Dean shout from the bathroom. His head hurts and his mouth feels like he's eaten the contents of an ashtray.
“What?” He groans. Dean bursts out of the bathroom, bare chested, a few errant scratches run down his chest and Sam suppressed the urge to grin at his behaviour the night before. But its Dean's hair that makes him fall out of bed laughing.
“Want to tell me why my hair's purple?” He demands. Sam can't answer him though, clutching his stomach and laughing so hard he thinks he's going to break something.
“Did you put hair dye in my shampoo you ass hat?” He tries again and Sam manages to haul himself off the floor.
“No. You drank too much last night evidently.” Sam says, smug expression plastered on his face. Dean drags his gaze down Sam's naked body and his eyes widen slightly.
“Evidently so did you.” He waggles his eyebrows at Sam's hand. He lifts it to his face.
“Dean. Did we get married last night? How fucking drunk were we?”
“I dunno, but I'm never drinking purple nurples again.”
3.2: Crack!Fic (because savingfaith333 gave me the prompt “potato”)
He'd seen Sam wrestle with a werewolf. He'd seen Sam battle with a swimming pool cover to rescue a drowning little girl. He'd seen Sam almost bleed out numerous times and still have enough energy to blast a spirit with a round of rock salt.
But he'd never seen Sam struggle with something so easy as peeling a potato. He's hands were covered in tiny little nicks the vegetable peeler had given him. His face was set in an angry, furious, expression that made Dean want to let out a immature giggle. How he'd managed to get a job as a waiter and Sam had been given a kitchen porter (bitch) job he'd never know but it was funny as hell. Well it would have been funnier if the kitchen staff weren't dying in strange was but it was still funny.
He was watching Sam when one of the offending vegetables came flying through the air and narrowing missed his face.
“This is all your fault.” Sam bitched, brandishing the peeler like a weapon against a supernatural creature. Dean laughed, hard, and smacked Sam's ass on the way past.
“Suck it up Sammy. Plus you look good in an apron.”
“Etu nach smech.” The words were strange but it made the tiny girl fall like a sack of potatoes to the ground and Dean couldn't deny that she still managed to make that look graceful. And it was quite a coherent thought considering he was trying incredibly hard not to choke on his own blood that was trickling down the back of his throat and had been since the tiny girl had smashed his nose with enough force to drive the bones back in his brain.
Dean hauled himself off the floor, with the help of Sam who, for some reason, had managed to go unharmed and watched as the smart looking young man crouched beside the girl.
“What the fuck?” Dean managed to get out, his words thick around the blood in his throat. He spat a large globule of congealing blood on the floor.
“I am so sorry. I thought she was getting better, she doesn't know what she's doing. I...” Dean held his hand up to cut off the man's apology.
“Jesus, keep a leash on her would you.” Sam's hands were rubbing small circles into Dean's back and Dean leant against him, his vision wavering.
“All wrong...wrong time...wrong place.” The girl murmured from the floor but thankfully stayed unconscious.
“She's...disturbed. Simon Tam.” The man held his hand out, both Sam and Dean just stared at it. He pulled it back. “And this is my sister, River.”
“I don't care if you're the King and Queen of England, you're sister's crazy.” Dean snapped. Simon nodded.
“Yes. It's been said once or twice.”
5: First Time
It wasn't too much blood. It wasn't too much alcohol or too much adrenaline. There was nothing he could blame it on except his own sick obsession. But maybe Sammy was just as sick as him because Sam kissed him back when Dean pushed the motel door closed using Sam's weight and swallowed the gasp that threatened to escape Sam's throat.
Hands and teeth and lips and mouths and oh god it was good.
It was messy, fast and needy and desperate and Dean wouldn't have had it any other way, because it was Sam and Sam was his. And it was perfect because this was only just the beginning.
6: Fluff (I must be dreaming for I don't fall in love lawlessly. I must be dreaming or pinch me to waking. So undeniably yours...)
Dean watched Sam over the table in the diner, his face screwed up reading from the laptop screen. Dean nudges his knee under the table and watches as Sam's face lightens up and nudges back.
Dean is struck by the sudden fear that he's dreaming. Because he doesn't just love Sam with all he has. No, its more than that. It goes way deeper than that. And Dean Winchester doesn't love anything like that. Not even his car. And there is no way he should be feeling that about his brother. His Sammy.
“Hey Sammy?” He opens his mouth before he's even aware of what he's doing and is frozen by a crippling fear that he's going to spill what he's just been thinking.
“You've got syrup on your lip.” I Love you Sammy. Sam's tongue darts out and licks it off, too slowly and deliberately for Dean's blood pressure and smiles at him, the smile that says he knows exactly what Dean was thinking.
“Thanks.” I love you too Dean.
“Sure. Couldn't have you walking around like that, Little Brother.” I don't know what I'd do without you.
Sam rolls his eyes, I'm never leaving.
“You're finding this amusing aren't you?” Sam tries to cross his arms, forgetting for the moment that he is currently tied up, spread eagle, bare chest exposed and covered with arcane symbols. Spread out like a sacrifice for Dean. Dean nods and bites on his bottom lip.
“Only a little bit more than a lot.” He says. “You look like a prom date gone wrong.”
“Dean, shut the hell up and get me out of here.” Sam tries his patented Bitch Face which only serves to make Dean laugh.
“I dunno Sammy. You look kinda sacrilegious right now. Might take some photos for later.” Dean smirks and adjusts himself. Sam rolls his eyes.
“You don't have a camera you jerk and stop getting off on this.” Sam gives him a bitch face and pouts which only makes Dean laugh harder.
“Can't help it.” He leans down and licks at Sam's chest. Sam wriggles.
“Dude, stop it. Its not fair with me all tied up.” He protests. Dean quirks an eye brow and his eyes twinkle in that mischievous way that makes Sam shudder, in fear or suspense he's not quite sure.
“Oh Sammy. I think its very fair.”
It had been four months, four months since Jess had died, pinned to the ceiling, bleeding and on fire, and Sam can't remember if the flames are blue only in his nightmares or not. But Dean's hands on him, holding him down as he thrashes around, still caught in a nightmare, ground him slightly, bring him back to a reality where Dean is all he can see. Green eyes large with worry and understanding, hands gripping his arms hard enough to bruise and its just one more way Dean is marking Sam.
“Its ok Sammy. I've got you.” He says, pulling Sam up and into the safe circle of his arms. Sam curls the material of Dean's paper thin t-shirt into his fists and buries his head in Dean's neck, inhales and calms.
His hands were everywhere, hard and desperate, searching out every single place that made Sam keen out Dean's name in the broken voice that Sam hated. Sam's back had hit the Impala hard when Dean had crushed him against it, thighs slipping between Sam's and mouther sealing over his in a kiss that was full of possession more than anything else.
Sam arched back into Dean, rolling his hips into his brothers with abandon, making Dean groan into his mouth.
It didn't get much better than this.
10: UST (Unresolved or Unrequited Sexual Tension)
No motel tonight. Money was on a major low and they pulled the car off the road and lit a small fire, sitting leaning up against the car as the fire flickered strange shadows across Dean's face. Sam suddenly realised just how hauntingly beautiful his brother was. And when Dean stretched his aching muscles out, lifting his hands over his head and the t-shirt rode up, exposing a strip of flesh, Sam turned away. A dark cloud covered the moon and plunged the roadside into semi darkness. It didn't matter, it meant Dean couldn't see the lust in Sam's eyes, or the way his fingers twitched with the need to touch Dean.