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spn_springflingTitle: Proposition
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: some language, hints of incest, demon blood
“Honey, I’m home.”
Sam was reaching for his gun before he realized it was his brother standing in front of him. He had been so deep into A Feast Of Crows he hadn’t even heard his bedroom door open. Dean had been away for weeks doing heaven – or rather hell – knows what. Sam had spent days fruitlessly looking for him, Cas had helped. Hell even ghost Kevin had pitched in, but even with all the spirits in the veil at his disposal, Kevin had come up empty. Dean was gone, just gone and there were angels to deal with and lives at risk, innocent people caught in an angel war they couldn’t even begin to fathom so Sam had let Cas draw him into that battle and left Dean to fight his own demons. Or give into them, which judging by Dean’s tattered condition, he had.
And now after two months of radio silence Dean was back. Sam didn’t know what to feel. Well actually he did – angry. He felt angry.
Sam stood up, dropping the book to the floor where it fell with a neglected thud. “Where the hell -”
Dean waved his hand, a casual barely even noticeable wave, but the words caught in Sam’s throat and he choked on them, and then the words were gone and Sam realized he couldn’t make a sound.
“Sorry.” Dean said with a grin that was anything but. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, a beer in one hand and the blade – that damn blade – in the other. Dean looked at Sam and chuckled, if such a dark sound could be called a chuckle, “Oh little brother if looks could kill…”
Sam might not be able to kill with a look but he had about fifteen objects within reaching distance that could do the job. He looked at a couple of them now and then at Dean - even in Dean’s probably inebriated state he figured that Dean could get that message.
“Yeah sorry Sam, but I think you’ll find that along with not being able to talk, moving’s not an option for you either. You see, I’ve learned all kinds of new tricks while I’ve been away.” Dean took one more long drink of the glass of beer and then threw it at the wall where it shattered inches from Sam’s head. “Even found myself a new brother, goes by the name of Cain. Cain and I, nothing like you and me. It’s easy with Cain, no fuss no muss no drama. I mean we both have some deep fucking brother issues.” Dean winked at Sam as he began to take off his boots. “But other than that, we live by a simple philosophy – we want, we take, we have.”
Now barefoot, Dean stood up and stretched. He was skinny, far more than usual, this side of gaunt. His shirt pulled free from his jeans and Sam got a glimpse of his stomach – he might not have been eating, but Dean was sure as hell working out. “So I found me a brother, and I found myself a family. You wouldn’t approve of my family Sam, well not yet but you will. So there I was with my new brother and my new family and for the first time in my entire sorry life I felt free. Do you know how it feels to feel free Sam? To just give in to the anger and the madness and to just be. “Dean took a deep breath and let it out, “Just be. Of course you do. With you it was the demon blood, Ruby and the demon blood and with me – but more on that later.” Dean began walking toward Sam, slowly, deliberately.
“So it turns out that I could find another brother, but I still couldn’t free myself from you. Thousands of miles away, and it was still all about Sammy. I’d close my eyes and you were there. I’d drink myself into a stupor and still I’d dream and my dreams were you. You wouldn’t let me go. You were everyfuckingwhere. I tried everything, everything, but I’m a junkie and well a junkie needs his fix.”
That tiny flick of the wrist again and Sam’s voice came back to him. Sam frantically tried to think of a way to distract Dean, “I – um. Cas, uh – he’s worried sick about you Dean. Why don’t we give him a call?”
“No can do. Well maybe later, I’ve got some games I’d like to play with the little angel. But right now, it’s you I want to play with.” Dean was so close now that Sam could feel his breath, hot and whispery against Sam’s skin. “Wanna play a game Sammy?”
Now that Sam could talk again, he was finding it very difficult to find any words. “Dean, look – “
“No, don’t wanna look.” Dean placed both hands on the wall, with Sam caught in the middle. Caught in other ways too, dangerous ways. It took Sam a moment to realize there was something warm, so warm it almost burned, in his hand. It took him a few more beats to focus on the object. It was a flask full of something deep and red and when the realization became whole, it thrilled something dark inside of Sam, slick and chill like poisoned light. Dean was speaking to him again; Sam worked to focus on Dean’s words, to focus on anything. “My family gave me a present for you. I’d tell you what it is, but I can see from your eyes that you already know. I was wrong to take this from you Sam; this is what makes you whole. Just like I was never whole until the mark came to me. It was always meant to be this, it was always meant to be us. Together we can go anywhere, do anything. If you want, we can take a trip downstairs, I’ll be the king and you can be my prince. Or we could stay up here and really have some fun. There is nothing, nothing that we can’t do. Want. Take. Have.” Dean’s blade was against Sam’s cheek with a touch that was almost caressing and he began making a trail, from Sam’s cheek, down past his neck, down his stomach, still going down. Sam lost all ability to form words; all he could hear was the ringing in his ears, all he could feel was his blood feverish, yearning.
Dean leaned in even closer, the rough fabric of his denim jeans brushing against Sam’s silk pajama bottoms. “You could have it all Sam, we could have it all.” Dean’s voice lowered to a dusky whisper. “We could do it all.”
Dean dropped the blade, but Sam barely registered the movement. Dean took a few steps back and was still, and waiting, waiting for him. Sam opened his mouth to tell Dean to go to hell, to go back to his precious Cain. That Dean was sick, that he was sick and wrong and that Sam didn’t miss the demon blood, he didn’t want it and sure as hell didn’t need it.
But what he said was…
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: some language, hints of incest, demon blood
“Honey, I’m home.”
Sam was reaching for his gun before he realized it was his brother standing in front of him. He had been so deep into A Feast Of Crows he hadn’t even heard his bedroom door open. Dean had been away for weeks doing heaven – or rather hell – knows what. Sam had spent days fruitlessly looking for him, Cas had helped. Hell even ghost Kevin had pitched in, but even with all the spirits in the veil at his disposal, Kevin had come up empty. Dean was gone, just gone and there were angels to deal with and lives at risk, innocent people caught in an angel war they couldn’t even begin to fathom so Sam had let Cas draw him into that battle and left Dean to fight his own demons. Or give into them, which judging by Dean’s tattered condition, he had.
And now after two months of radio silence Dean was back. Sam didn’t know what to feel. Well actually he did – angry. He felt angry.
Sam stood up, dropping the book to the floor where it fell with a neglected thud. “Where the hell -”
Dean waved his hand, a casual barely even noticeable wave, but the words caught in Sam’s throat and he choked on them, and then the words were gone and Sam realized he couldn’t make a sound.
“Sorry.” Dean said with a grin that was anything but. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, a beer in one hand and the blade – that damn blade – in the other. Dean looked at Sam and chuckled, if such a dark sound could be called a chuckle, “Oh little brother if looks could kill…”
Sam might not be able to kill with a look but he had about fifteen objects within reaching distance that could do the job. He looked at a couple of them now and then at Dean - even in Dean’s probably inebriated state he figured that Dean could get that message.
“Yeah sorry Sam, but I think you’ll find that along with not being able to talk, moving’s not an option for you either. You see, I’ve learned all kinds of new tricks while I’ve been away.” Dean took one more long drink of the glass of beer and then threw it at the wall where it shattered inches from Sam’s head. “Even found myself a new brother, goes by the name of Cain. Cain and I, nothing like you and me. It’s easy with Cain, no fuss no muss no drama. I mean we both have some deep fucking brother issues.” Dean winked at Sam as he began to take off his boots. “But other than that, we live by a simple philosophy – we want, we take, we have.”
Now barefoot, Dean stood up and stretched. He was skinny, far more than usual, this side of gaunt. His shirt pulled free from his jeans and Sam got a glimpse of his stomach – he might not have been eating, but Dean was sure as hell working out. “So I found me a brother, and I found myself a family. You wouldn’t approve of my family Sam, well not yet but you will. So there I was with my new brother and my new family and for the first time in my entire sorry life I felt free. Do you know how it feels to feel free Sam? To just give in to the anger and the madness and to just be. “Dean took a deep breath and let it out, “Just be. Of course you do. With you it was the demon blood, Ruby and the demon blood and with me – but more on that later.” Dean began walking toward Sam, slowly, deliberately.
“So it turns out that I could find another brother, but I still couldn’t free myself from you. Thousands of miles away, and it was still all about Sammy. I’d close my eyes and you were there. I’d drink myself into a stupor and still I’d dream and my dreams were you. You wouldn’t let me go. You were everyfuckingwhere. I tried everything, everything, but I’m a junkie and well a junkie needs his fix.”
That tiny flick of the wrist again and Sam’s voice came back to him. Sam frantically tried to think of a way to distract Dean, “I – um. Cas, uh – he’s worried sick about you Dean. Why don’t we give him a call?”
“No can do. Well maybe later, I’ve got some games I’d like to play with the little angel. But right now, it’s you I want to play with.” Dean was so close now that Sam could feel his breath, hot and whispery against Sam’s skin. “Wanna play a game Sammy?”
Now that Sam could talk again, he was finding it very difficult to find any words. “Dean, look – “
“No, don’t wanna look.” Dean placed both hands on the wall, with Sam caught in the middle. Caught in other ways too, dangerous ways. It took Sam a moment to realize there was something warm, so warm it almost burned, in his hand. It took him a few more beats to focus on the object. It was a flask full of something deep and red and when the realization became whole, it thrilled something dark inside of Sam, slick and chill like poisoned light. Dean was speaking to him again; Sam worked to focus on Dean’s words, to focus on anything. “My family gave me a present for you. I’d tell you what it is, but I can see from your eyes that you already know. I was wrong to take this from you Sam; this is what makes you whole. Just like I was never whole until the mark came to me. It was always meant to be this, it was always meant to be us. Together we can go anywhere, do anything. If you want, we can take a trip downstairs, I’ll be the king and you can be my prince. Or we could stay up here and really have some fun. There is nothing, nothing that we can’t do. Want. Take. Have.” Dean’s blade was against Sam’s cheek with a touch that was almost caressing and he began making a trail, from Sam’s cheek, down past his neck, down his stomach, still going down. Sam lost all ability to form words; all he could hear was the ringing in his ears, all he could feel was his blood feverish, yearning.
Dean leaned in even closer, the rough fabric of his denim jeans brushing against Sam’s silk pajama bottoms. “You could have it all Sam, we could have it all.” Dean’s voice lowered to a dusky whisper. “We could do it all.”
Dean dropped the blade, but Sam barely registered the movement. Dean took a few steps back and was still, and waiting, waiting for him. Sam opened his mouth to tell Dean to go to hell, to go back to his precious Cain. That Dean was sick, that he was sick and wrong and that Sam didn’t miss the demon blood, he didn’t want it and sure as hell didn’t need it.
But what he said was…
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Date: 2014-04-14 05:23 pm (UTC)this was so hot baby, love this idea of mark of Cain!Dean with junkie demonblood!Sam...it's perfect :) I could just hear Dean's dark gritty raspy voice in this running all over my body. uh huh!
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Date: 2014-04-14 06:44 pm (UTC)Oooo I want this to happen so bad! I hope Carver's reading this! x
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