Fic: Wednesday
Jul. 20th, 2019 01:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayTitle: Wednesday
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: Explicit/NC-17
Word Count: 1,609
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Summary: Sam and Dean deal with the emotional fallout of the events of "Mystery Spot."
Warnings/tags: Sibling incest, angst, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, anal sex
A/N: Written for the Swan Song Bingo, Mystery Spot square (season 3).
Read on AO3
***
Sam was acting strangely, even by their standards. Rushing Dean out of town without breakfast, insisting on accompanying him to the Impala. Sam kept looking at Dean. He was clearly trying to be casual about it and watch from the corner of his eye, but his head kept turning towards Dean as if he didn’t have full control over his neck. He sat up too straight in his seat, shoulders high and tight, until they passed a sign that said “Leaving Broward County.” As they went by it, Dean heard Sam exhale sharply and sit back, relaxing a little. He stopped looking at Dean so often, too. Dean chalked it up to whatever Sam’s weird dream had been.
Until a couple hours later, when Dean’s favorite Asia song came on the radio. Dean went to turn it up, but Sam lunged forward and shut off the radio in a flash.
“Dude, this song is great,” Dean protested. He reached out to turn it back on.
“Don’t!” Sam shouted, sounding so desperate that Dean froze. Wide-eyed, he looked at Sam, who had crammed himself as best he could into the corner between the front seat and the door. He was breathing hard, like “Heat of the Moment” had put him into a panic.
“Jesus, Sam, all right,” Dean said. “So you don’t like Asia.”
Sam took a deep, shuddering breath and stared out the window.
“What the hell happened to you ?” Dean asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam muttered. “It’s fine now. It’s all okay.”
“Sam – ”
“Just drive, Dean,” Sam snapped. “Don’t ask me questions.”
Dean rolled his eyes. Wasn’t avoiding conversations his thing? But he decided to let it drop for the time being.
***
Sam stuck to Dean like a burr all day, even accompanying him to the bathroom.
“We’re not girls, we don’t pee in groups,” Dean said. Sam ignored this and followed him into the restroom. Dean was half-surprised that Sam didn’t insist on sharing the same side of the booth in the burger place where they stopped for dinner. Halfway through the meal, Dean started to wish they were on the same side, because he kept looking up to see Sam giving him these ridiculous doe-eyed looks, full of pain and love. It was deeply unnerving. Dean almost didn’t want to finish his burger. (He did, though. He had standards.)
When they got to their motel room that night, Sam was on him almost before Dean had time to take off his shoes. Sam kissed him fiercely, slipping his hands under Dean’s shirt and holding them tightly together as he ran his hands all over Dean’s skin.
“What the hell, man?” Dean spluttered, as soon as Sam let him up for air. It wasn’t like this was the first time – nowhere near it – but he, at least, was usually at least a little drunk. He needed something to keep the crushing guilt at bay.
“Please, Dean,” Sam said, voice low, eyes down. “Have a drink or something if you want, but please. I – ” His voice cracked. “I need this.”
Dean stared at him for a long minute, feeling guiltier than ever that Sam knew he needed a drink to get through their sex. Well, fuck it, he could skip it if Sam was really feeling that bad.
“It’s okay,” he said finally, voice rough, though he tried to keep his tone gentle. “I’m good, Sammy.” He reached for Sam and pulled him into a long, slow kiss. Sam seemed to go boneless in his arms, sinking down onto the bed behind him and pulling Dean along.
After a few minutes of this, Sam seemed to regain whatever had possessed him before. He pulled off their clothes quickly and then he was all over Dean, hands and lips on every each of Dean’s skin like he was trying to memorize it, or re-learn it. They’d had a lot of pretty intense sex this year, with Hell looming over them – Dean quickly pushed the thought away – but this was a new level. Sam was frantic, speeding through foreplay until he was straddling Dean, sliding down onto his cock in a smooth movement that left them both gasping.
When Dean was inside him, Sam finally seemed to relax a little. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Missed you,” Sam mumbled, so quietly that Dean almost didn’t hear it.
“Dude, I know you had a lot of shitty Tuesdays – ” Sam flinched at the word. “But you saw me during them, right?”
Sam looked at him with wet eyes and nodded.
“So what do you mean, you missed me?”
Sam shook his head and leaned down to kiss Dean hard. “Don’t ask me that,” he said. “Please. Not now. Not when I finally have you.”
Dean gave an annoyed huff, but Sam started moving, starting out slowly then quickly getting faster and harder. Dean groaned, back arching. He wrapped his hand around Sam’s cock and jerked him roughly, the way he had a feeling Sam wanted right now. It didn’t take long before Sam came with a cry on Dean’s chest. He didn’t stop moving, and Dean followed him over the edge a moment later despite his worry.
Sam wiped Dean off with a couple of tissues and then pressed warm kisses to Dean’s sternum. Dean tensed a bit – that kind of thing made him a little squirrely with shame once the sex was over, especially if he was sober – but he didn’t say anything. And he didn’t say anything when Sam pulled him close. Sam buried his head in Dean’s neck. Dean couldn’t quite make himself stroke Sam’s back, but he held him tightly and listened to his breathing slow down.
“You gotta tell me what’s got you this spun out,” Dean said after a couple of minutes. A small shudder ran through Sam.
“You don’t want to know,” he replied.
“Probably not,” Dean agreed. “But you’re freaking me out, so let’s have it.”
Sam lifted his head, looking at Dean with troubled eyes. Finally, he nodded.
Haltingly, he told Dean the whole story. Dean listened silently, trying not to let the alarm he felt show on his face. He’d thought all the deaths were bad enough, but those months Sam’d had without him…No wonder he was acting so crazy.
Dean didn’t even know how to address that part of the story. When Sam was finished, he decided he’d try and lighten the mood by asking the question that had popped into his head early on.
“So did it look cool when I got hit by the car?”
Sam’s mouth twisted into an annoyed line. “No! I told you, you peed yourself.”
“You didn’t say that!”
“Yes, I did!” Sam was almost shouting. “The day after it happened, you asked the same stupid question, and I told you – ” He stopped. His shoulders slumped and his eyes filled with tears.
“But you don’t remember that,” he whispered. “Only I do.”
He pulled away from Dean and curled up into a ball on his side, looking miserable. Fuck, Dean thought. Humor had definitely been the wrong response.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean said quickly. He started to reach out for Sam, then paused. It was just so fucking hard to do the after-sex cuddling thing – if he just fell asleep after sex he had an excuse to wake up entwined with Sam, but this…
But, Dean told himself firmly, Sam needed him. The guy was messed up, and who could blame him? Dean shoved aside the rising tide of self-hatred that told him he was a monster for screwing his brother. He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and drew him in. Sam came after only a moment’s hesitation, throwing his arms around Dean and burying his face in Dean’s chest. Dean could feel Sam shaking with silent sobs.
“Look, man, I’m not saying it wasn’t horrible,” Dean said. “But it’s over, okay? You got through it. Fuck, you’re strong as hell. I probably would have lost my mind completely after day five of watching you die.” Sam squeezed him even tighter. Dean let himself stroke Sam’s back like he desperately wanted to, ignoring the part of him that said he was a sick fuck and that he was taking Sam down with him by giving in. Sam needed this, damn it. “But I’m okay, all right? I’m here.” He tried hard not to think about the sword of Damocles that was his appointment in Hell, hanging over his head. He could almost feel Sam trying not to think about it, too. Right now, all they could do was hold on to each other for as long as they could.
Slowly, Sam’s sobs quieted. He took a deep breath.
“Listen,” he said. “You’re going to laugh, but you know how I can’t listen to that song anymore?”
“Uh, sure…”
“I’m also going to need you to not eat tacos for…I don’t know. Probably at least a month.”
Dean frowned. He loved tacos. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Tacos killed me?”
“It was so gross, Dean.”
Dean pulled away so he could look into his brother’s face to see if he was joking. Sam had the ghost of a smile on his face, but his eyes were still pretty serious.
“All right,” Dean said resignedly. “No tacos for awhile.”
Sam’s smile grew a fraction more. He pulled Dean closer again and closed his eyes.
One of Dean’s legs was in a weird position and his arm was starting to go numb, but he didn’t move. Right then, he wouldn’t have moved an inch for the entire fucking world.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: Explicit/NC-17
Word Count: 1,609
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Summary: Sam and Dean deal with the emotional fallout of the events of "Mystery Spot."
Warnings/tags: Sibling incest, angst, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, anal sex
A/N: Written for the Swan Song Bingo, Mystery Spot square (season 3).
Read on AO3
***
Sam was acting strangely, even by their standards. Rushing Dean out of town without breakfast, insisting on accompanying him to the Impala. Sam kept looking at Dean. He was clearly trying to be casual about it and watch from the corner of his eye, but his head kept turning towards Dean as if he didn’t have full control over his neck. He sat up too straight in his seat, shoulders high and tight, until they passed a sign that said “Leaving Broward County.” As they went by it, Dean heard Sam exhale sharply and sit back, relaxing a little. He stopped looking at Dean so often, too. Dean chalked it up to whatever Sam’s weird dream had been.
Until a couple hours later, when Dean’s favorite Asia song came on the radio. Dean went to turn it up, but Sam lunged forward and shut off the radio in a flash.
“Dude, this song is great,” Dean protested. He reached out to turn it back on.
“Don’t!” Sam shouted, sounding so desperate that Dean froze. Wide-eyed, he looked at Sam, who had crammed himself as best he could into the corner between the front seat and the door. He was breathing hard, like “Heat of the Moment” had put him into a panic.
“Jesus, Sam, all right,” Dean said. “So you don’t like Asia.”
Sam took a deep, shuddering breath and stared out the window.
“What the hell happened to you ?” Dean asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam muttered. “It’s fine now. It’s all okay.”
“Sam – ”
“Just drive, Dean,” Sam snapped. “Don’t ask me questions.”
Dean rolled his eyes. Wasn’t avoiding conversations his thing? But he decided to let it drop for the time being.
***
Sam stuck to Dean like a burr all day, even accompanying him to the bathroom.
“We’re not girls, we don’t pee in groups,” Dean said. Sam ignored this and followed him into the restroom. Dean was half-surprised that Sam didn’t insist on sharing the same side of the booth in the burger place where they stopped for dinner. Halfway through the meal, Dean started to wish they were on the same side, because he kept looking up to see Sam giving him these ridiculous doe-eyed looks, full of pain and love. It was deeply unnerving. Dean almost didn’t want to finish his burger. (He did, though. He had standards.)
When they got to their motel room that night, Sam was on him almost before Dean had time to take off his shoes. Sam kissed him fiercely, slipping his hands under Dean’s shirt and holding them tightly together as he ran his hands all over Dean’s skin.
“What the hell, man?” Dean spluttered, as soon as Sam let him up for air. It wasn’t like this was the first time – nowhere near it – but he, at least, was usually at least a little drunk. He needed something to keep the crushing guilt at bay.
“Please, Dean,” Sam said, voice low, eyes down. “Have a drink or something if you want, but please. I – ” His voice cracked. “I need this.”
Dean stared at him for a long minute, feeling guiltier than ever that Sam knew he needed a drink to get through their sex. Well, fuck it, he could skip it if Sam was really feeling that bad.
“It’s okay,” he said finally, voice rough, though he tried to keep his tone gentle. “I’m good, Sammy.” He reached for Sam and pulled him into a long, slow kiss. Sam seemed to go boneless in his arms, sinking down onto the bed behind him and pulling Dean along.
After a few minutes of this, Sam seemed to regain whatever had possessed him before. He pulled off their clothes quickly and then he was all over Dean, hands and lips on every each of Dean’s skin like he was trying to memorize it, or re-learn it. They’d had a lot of pretty intense sex this year, with Hell looming over them – Dean quickly pushed the thought away – but this was a new level. Sam was frantic, speeding through foreplay until he was straddling Dean, sliding down onto his cock in a smooth movement that left them both gasping.
When Dean was inside him, Sam finally seemed to relax a little. He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Missed you,” Sam mumbled, so quietly that Dean almost didn’t hear it.
“Dude, I know you had a lot of shitty Tuesdays – ” Sam flinched at the word. “But you saw me during them, right?”
Sam looked at him with wet eyes and nodded.
“So what do you mean, you missed me?”
Sam shook his head and leaned down to kiss Dean hard. “Don’t ask me that,” he said. “Please. Not now. Not when I finally have you.”
Dean gave an annoyed huff, but Sam started moving, starting out slowly then quickly getting faster and harder. Dean groaned, back arching. He wrapped his hand around Sam’s cock and jerked him roughly, the way he had a feeling Sam wanted right now. It didn’t take long before Sam came with a cry on Dean’s chest. He didn’t stop moving, and Dean followed him over the edge a moment later despite his worry.
Sam wiped Dean off with a couple of tissues and then pressed warm kisses to Dean’s sternum. Dean tensed a bit – that kind of thing made him a little squirrely with shame once the sex was over, especially if he was sober – but he didn’t say anything. And he didn’t say anything when Sam pulled him close. Sam buried his head in Dean’s neck. Dean couldn’t quite make himself stroke Sam’s back, but he held him tightly and listened to his breathing slow down.
“You gotta tell me what’s got you this spun out,” Dean said after a couple of minutes. A small shudder ran through Sam.
“You don’t want to know,” he replied.
“Probably not,” Dean agreed. “But you’re freaking me out, so let’s have it.”
Sam lifted his head, looking at Dean with troubled eyes. Finally, he nodded.
Haltingly, he told Dean the whole story. Dean listened silently, trying not to let the alarm he felt show on his face. He’d thought all the deaths were bad enough, but those months Sam’d had without him…No wonder he was acting so crazy.
Dean didn’t even know how to address that part of the story. When Sam was finished, he decided he’d try and lighten the mood by asking the question that had popped into his head early on.
“So did it look cool when I got hit by the car?”
Sam’s mouth twisted into an annoyed line. “No! I told you, you peed yourself.”
“You didn’t say that!”
“Yes, I did!” Sam was almost shouting. “The day after it happened, you asked the same stupid question, and I told you – ” He stopped. His shoulders slumped and his eyes filled with tears.
“But you don’t remember that,” he whispered. “Only I do.”
He pulled away from Dean and curled up into a ball on his side, looking miserable. Fuck, Dean thought. Humor had definitely been the wrong response.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Dean said quickly. He started to reach out for Sam, then paused. It was just so fucking hard to do the after-sex cuddling thing – if he just fell asleep after sex he had an excuse to wake up entwined with Sam, but this…
But, Dean told himself firmly, Sam needed him. The guy was messed up, and who could blame him? Dean shoved aside the rising tide of self-hatred that told him he was a monster for screwing his brother. He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and drew him in. Sam came after only a moment’s hesitation, throwing his arms around Dean and burying his face in Dean’s chest. Dean could feel Sam shaking with silent sobs.
“Look, man, I’m not saying it wasn’t horrible,” Dean said. “But it’s over, okay? You got through it. Fuck, you’re strong as hell. I probably would have lost my mind completely after day five of watching you die.” Sam squeezed him even tighter. Dean let himself stroke Sam’s back like he desperately wanted to, ignoring the part of him that said he was a sick fuck and that he was taking Sam down with him by giving in. Sam needed this, damn it. “But I’m okay, all right? I’m here.” He tried hard not to think about the sword of Damocles that was his appointment in Hell, hanging over his head. He could almost feel Sam trying not to think about it, too. Right now, all they could do was hold on to each other for as long as they could.
Slowly, Sam’s sobs quieted. He took a deep breath.
“Listen,” he said. “You’re going to laugh, but you know how I can’t listen to that song anymore?”
“Uh, sure…”
“I’m also going to need you to not eat tacos for…I don’t know. Probably at least a month.”
Dean frowned. He loved tacos. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Tacos killed me?”
“It was so gross, Dean.”
Dean pulled away so he could look into his brother’s face to see if he was joking. Sam had the ghost of a smile on his face, but his eyes were still pretty serious.
“All right,” Dean said resignedly. “No tacos for awhile.”
Sam’s smile grew a fraction more. He pulled Dean closer again and closed his eyes.
One of Dean’s legs was in a weird position and his arm was starting to go numb, but he didn’t move. Right then, he wouldn’t have moved an inch for the entire fucking world.
