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spn_springfling2015-03-16 10:54 pm
springflingmod.livejournal.com) wrote in spn_springfling2015-03-16 10:54 pm
I'm Looking for Baggage that goes with Mine by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
annie46 for <use
Title: I'm Looking for Baggage that goes with Mine
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Jess/Dean, mentions of Sam/Jess
Rating: NC-17
He met her in New Orleans.
He was doing a job for his dad; he was trusted to do solo hunts now and it made him feel more confident, proud even. Things would have been better if he’d had Sam with him though and he still felt the pain of loss even though it had been years since he’d last seen or spoken to his brother.
She was tall and buxom, her blonde hair spilling down over bare shoulders, the soft crease of her breasts visible under the low cut top she wore. She wasn’t an easy lay though and it was obvious that she wasn’t on the prowl. She sat on the high bar stool twirling a thin stemmed wine glass in her slender fingers. Her smile was like sunshine and he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, all of his charm on full blast.
Should have known she already had a boyfriend but it was obvious that things weren’t all hunky dory. ’He was a tad distant’ she explained, her voice slurring a little as she drank more wine, ’he was in love with someone else, someone he shouldn’t be in love with, a love that was desperate and unrequited’. Dean could relate, of course he could. He knew the pain of guilty, unrequited love and he knew what it was like to want someone and not be able to have them. He told her as much and she gazed at him with liquid blue eyes, mouth pursed.
“We should fuck,” she said, eventually, taking him by surprise, “no use carrying all this baggage alone.”
They got a motel room, somewhere that was cool and clinical rather than seedy. The sheets were harsh white cotton and the pillows as hard as rocks. None of that mattered when his hands were on her breasts, fingers tweaking her nipples, mouth on hers harsh and passionate. It had been a while; too long and he was more used to the feel of hard muscle, a chest covered with fine hairs, a flat stomach and jutting hipbones. Once they’d given into it, guilt staying with them for so long it was crippling. That didn’t mean he didn’t remember, didn’t remember the tightness, the grip of short nails digging into his back, strong heels holding him there. He tried to shake off the memory, tried to live in the now but he had to bite his lip to stop calling out the wrong name and he got the distinct impression she did too.
He dropped her off at the airport and watched her go with some regret. She was obviously intelligent and very beautiful and he hoped her mysterious boyfriend finally got over himself. She deserved to be loved that one.
Dad never came back to their shared squat. He waited for a month before he panicked and then he started to call every name in his phone. Nobody had heard anything but most of them suspected he was on a demon hunt. Pastor Jim hinted his dad had seen signs, signs that meant the demon that had killed his mom was still around. Dean felt both irritation and anger, his dad should have trusted him enough to tell him, should have trusted him enough to take him along on this – the most important hunt of all. He sat on his ass for another week and then he got into baby and headed to Stanford…
****
Sam had grown into himself just as Dean thought he would do. He was taller, broader too, endless long legs and abs to die for. Shock coloured his expression but there was something else there too, something Dean knew all too well but pretended not to recognise.
Their awkward reunion was swiftly interrupted; blonde hair, blue eyes and a Smurf tee that barely hid anything. If she was surprised she was clever enough not to show it and Dean had spent years perfecting his game face. The odds of this happening must have been astronomical but wasn’t that just the Winchester way? Sam didn’t have a clue and Dean had never been more relieved in his life when his brother suggested they take it outside.
He wasn’t expecting Sam to capitulate so easily but within hours they were in the Impala heading for Jericho. Dean had a million questions running through his head but he couldn’t voice any of them. Sam was as tense as a bow string, hair hanging in his eyes, hands folded over his groin as if he was trying to hide something. Dean wanted more than just his brother fighting by his side, he was a greedy fucker and somehow the fact that he’d fucked his brother’s girl made him want even more which made him a sick fucker too.
The first night in the motel was awkward; they ordered in pizza and sat staring at the TV as if the programme showing was one of the most interesting they’d ever seen. Some nature documentary about elephants or something and the pizza stuck in Dean’s throat as if it were glue. When he glanced over to the second bed he saw that Sam was watching him, eyes narrowed, pupils dark. There was a tell-tale bulge in Sam’s jeans, his long fingers playing gently over the zipper. Dean wanted to tell his brother to just ’take it out’ but he didn’t say a word and then, then Sam started talking.
“Jess told me she got drunk in New Orleans” Sam’s gaze didn’t waver, “she was on her spring break…feeling lonely and insecure because she thought I didn’t love her enough,” he swallowed, “told me the guy reminded her of me a little, same intense gaze she said, same dimple in his chin…” he laughed wryly, “you said you were working a solo case down there Dean…”
“Sammy.”
“It’s Sam,” his voice went deep and low, “it turned me on to think of her with you. Made me think of that one time Dean…made me want it again.”
“I’m sorry Sam I didn’t know she was yours,”
“Doesn’t matter,” Sam’s teeth sank into his bottom lip, “she didn’t know you were mine either.”
Dean felt the breath leave his body; all of a sudden he was sitting on Sam’s bed, grabbing Sam’s shoulders, pressing his mouth hard against Sam’s.
“No use carrying all this baggage alone.” He murmured between kisses, his hands on his brother’s belt, fumbling with the buckle, getting his hand on Sam’s hard cock, silk and steel beneath his eager fingers. Sam gasped and lay back, wriggling out of his jeans and pulling off his shirts. His baby brother was shaking like a leaf and sweat gathered at the base of his throat, salty in his mouth as he bent to lick at it.
They fucked hard and fast; neither of them could hold back or hold on and they came together, Sam clinging onto him. He sucked at his brother’s neck and chest leaving his mark there, marks that Jess would see, marks that would tell her just who Sam belonged to. The fact he’d fucked Sam and his girl made him feel powerful and in control somehow and he knew for a fact just how damaged he really was.
****
He had thought maybe Sam would stay with him but his brother insisted on going back. Dean knew – deep down – that Sam was doing the right thing but that didn’t stop the thick lump in his throat as he watched his brother walking up the steps to his apartment, didn’t stop the harsh feeling of loss in his gut. He was two seconds away from following Sam, maybe staying for a while himself. The sick part of him wondered how Jess would feel about sharing them, two brothers and one hot chick. He leaned back and put a hand across his eyes. That particular baggage would be far too heavy for either of them and he knew he had to leave things be. He wondered how Jess would handle the situation, wondered how she would react to the fact that Sam had let Dean fuck him, let Dean mark him. Incest was a dirty word, a word that neither of them used to describe the things that went down between them. Jess was a bright girl and, if Dean knew anything about her, he knew she wouldn’t use that word either.
****
He never knew why he turned back; never knew why he skidded to a halt and pulled the car around. He smelt the smoke before he saw it, saw the orange flames bursting from the apartment window, heard his brother’s frantic screams. He could save Sam but he couldn’t save Jess. He didn’t have to ask to know how she died, he’d heard the story from his dad often enough and he’d seen what was left, seen her face surrounded by flames, seen the splatter of her blood on Sam’s agonised face.
The scent of smoke lingered on them for weeks; it was an aroma of guilt that dragged itself around with them as they made their way across the country looking for dad. Sam didn’t have any physical baggage, just the clothes he stood up in, clothes that he wanted to throw in the trash the minute they got to their motel room. Despite this Sam was still weighed down by the things he carried with him, things he would carry for the rest of his life. He blamed himself for Jess’s death, blamed himself for not being there. Dean didn’t know what Sam had seen that night but he knew that it gave his brother nightmares, made him scream out in his sleep, made him crawl into bed next to Dean and cling on as if he was still a child.
Dean had his own memories, long legs that hugged his waist and soft blonde hair that spread over a hard white pillow. He hadn’t known she’d belonged to Sam but he didn’t know if it would have made any difference if he had. The Winchester’s were cursed and anyone who dared come into their circle was cursed along with them. Jessica never stood a chance.
Perhaps there would be other relationships, other women, a longing for normality but deep down Dean was aware they would never last. With dad gone all they had is each other and they would give each other comfort in whatever way they chose even if it was bad, even if it was sinful. All Dean was looking for was someone whose baggage matched his own and Sam…Sam was that person.
They would have to learn to carry it together – however heavy it got.
End
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Jess/Dean, mentions of Sam/Jess
Rating: NC-17
He met her in New Orleans.
He was doing a job for his dad; he was trusted to do solo hunts now and it made him feel more confident, proud even. Things would have been better if he’d had Sam with him though and he still felt the pain of loss even though it had been years since he’d last seen or spoken to his brother.
She was tall and buxom, her blonde hair spilling down over bare shoulders, the soft crease of her breasts visible under the low cut top she wore. She wasn’t an easy lay though and it was obvious that she wasn’t on the prowl. She sat on the high bar stool twirling a thin stemmed wine glass in her slender fingers. Her smile was like sunshine and he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, all of his charm on full blast.
Should have known she already had a boyfriend but it was obvious that things weren’t all hunky dory. ’He was a tad distant’ she explained, her voice slurring a little as she drank more wine, ’he was in love with someone else, someone he shouldn’t be in love with, a love that was desperate and unrequited’. Dean could relate, of course he could. He knew the pain of guilty, unrequited love and he knew what it was like to want someone and not be able to have them. He told her as much and she gazed at him with liquid blue eyes, mouth pursed.
“We should fuck,” she said, eventually, taking him by surprise, “no use carrying all this baggage alone.”
They got a motel room, somewhere that was cool and clinical rather than seedy. The sheets were harsh white cotton and the pillows as hard as rocks. None of that mattered when his hands were on her breasts, fingers tweaking her nipples, mouth on hers harsh and passionate. It had been a while; too long and he was more used to the feel of hard muscle, a chest covered with fine hairs, a flat stomach and jutting hipbones. Once they’d given into it, guilt staying with them for so long it was crippling. That didn’t mean he didn’t remember, didn’t remember the tightness, the grip of short nails digging into his back, strong heels holding him there. He tried to shake off the memory, tried to live in the now but he had to bite his lip to stop calling out the wrong name and he got the distinct impression she did too.
He dropped her off at the airport and watched her go with some regret. She was obviously intelligent and very beautiful and he hoped her mysterious boyfriend finally got over himself. She deserved to be loved that one.
Dad never came back to their shared squat. He waited for a month before he panicked and then he started to call every name in his phone. Nobody had heard anything but most of them suspected he was on a demon hunt. Pastor Jim hinted his dad had seen signs, signs that meant the demon that had killed his mom was still around. Dean felt both irritation and anger, his dad should have trusted him enough to tell him, should have trusted him enough to take him along on this – the most important hunt of all. He sat on his ass for another week and then he got into baby and headed to Stanford…
****
Sam had grown into himself just as Dean thought he would do. He was taller, broader too, endless long legs and abs to die for. Shock coloured his expression but there was something else there too, something Dean knew all too well but pretended not to recognise.
Their awkward reunion was swiftly interrupted; blonde hair, blue eyes and a Smurf tee that barely hid anything. If she was surprised she was clever enough not to show it and Dean had spent years perfecting his game face. The odds of this happening must have been astronomical but wasn’t that just the Winchester way? Sam didn’t have a clue and Dean had never been more relieved in his life when his brother suggested they take it outside.
He wasn’t expecting Sam to capitulate so easily but within hours they were in the Impala heading for Jericho. Dean had a million questions running through his head but he couldn’t voice any of them. Sam was as tense as a bow string, hair hanging in his eyes, hands folded over his groin as if he was trying to hide something. Dean wanted more than just his brother fighting by his side, he was a greedy fucker and somehow the fact that he’d fucked his brother’s girl made him want even more which made him a sick fucker too.
The first night in the motel was awkward; they ordered in pizza and sat staring at the TV as if the programme showing was one of the most interesting they’d ever seen. Some nature documentary about elephants or something and the pizza stuck in Dean’s throat as if it were glue. When he glanced over to the second bed he saw that Sam was watching him, eyes narrowed, pupils dark. There was a tell-tale bulge in Sam’s jeans, his long fingers playing gently over the zipper. Dean wanted to tell his brother to just ’take it out’ but he didn’t say a word and then, then Sam started talking.
“Jess told me she got drunk in New Orleans” Sam’s gaze didn’t waver, “she was on her spring break…feeling lonely and insecure because she thought I didn’t love her enough,” he swallowed, “told me the guy reminded her of me a little, same intense gaze she said, same dimple in his chin…” he laughed wryly, “you said you were working a solo case down there Dean…”
“Sammy.”
“It’s Sam,” his voice went deep and low, “it turned me on to think of her with you. Made me think of that one time Dean…made me want it again.”
“I’m sorry Sam I didn’t know she was yours,”
“Doesn’t matter,” Sam’s teeth sank into his bottom lip, “she didn’t know you were mine either.”
Dean felt the breath leave his body; all of a sudden he was sitting on Sam’s bed, grabbing Sam’s shoulders, pressing his mouth hard against Sam’s.
“No use carrying all this baggage alone.” He murmured between kisses, his hands on his brother’s belt, fumbling with the buckle, getting his hand on Sam’s hard cock, silk and steel beneath his eager fingers. Sam gasped and lay back, wriggling out of his jeans and pulling off his shirts. His baby brother was shaking like a leaf and sweat gathered at the base of his throat, salty in his mouth as he bent to lick at it.
They fucked hard and fast; neither of them could hold back or hold on and they came together, Sam clinging onto him. He sucked at his brother’s neck and chest leaving his mark there, marks that Jess would see, marks that would tell her just who Sam belonged to. The fact he’d fucked Sam and his girl made him feel powerful and in control somehow and he knew for a fact just how damaged he really was.
****
He had thought maybe Sam would stay with him but his brother insisted on going back. Dean knew – deep down – that Sam was doing the right thing but that didn’t stop the thick lump in his throat as he watched his brother walking up the steps to his apartment, didn’t stop the harsh feeling of loss in his gut. He was two seconds away from following Sam, maybe staying for a while himself. The sick part of him wondered how Jess would feel about sharing them, two brothers and one hot chick. He leaned back and put a hand across his eyes. That particular baggage would be far too heavy for either of them and he knew he had to leave things be. He wondered how Jess would handle the situation, wondered how she would react to the fact that Sam had let Dean fuck him, let Dean mark him. Incest was a dirty word, a word that neither of them used to describe the things that went down between them. Jess was a bright girl and, if Dean knew anything about her, he knew she wouldn’t use that word either.
****
He never knew why he turned back; never knew why he skidded to a halt and pulled the car around. He smelt the smoke before he saw it, saw the orange flames bursting from the apartment window, heard his brother’s frantic screams. He could save Sam but he couldn’t save Jess. He didn’t have to ask to know how she died, he’d heard the story from his dad often enough and he’d seen what was left, seen her face surrounded by flames, seen the splatter of her blood on Sam’s agonised face.
The scent of smoke lingered on them for weeks; it was an aroma of guilt that dragged itself around with them as they made their way across the country looking for dad. Sam didn’t have any physical baggage, just the clothes he stood up in, clothes that he wanted to throw in the trash the minute they got to their motel room. Despite this Sam was still weighed down by the things he carried with him, things he would carry for the rest of his life. He blamed himself for Jess’s death, blamed himself for not being there. Dean didn’t know what Sam had seen that night but he knew that it gave his brother nightmares, made him scream out in his sleep, made him crawl into bed next to Dean and cling on as if he was still a child.
Dean had his own memories, long legs that hugged his waist and soft blonde hair that spread over a hard white pillow. He hadn’t known she’d belonged to Sam but he didn’t know if it would have made any difference if he had. The Winchester’s were cursed and anyone who dared come into their circle was cursed along with them. Jessica never stood a chance.
Perhaps there would be other relationships, other women, a longing for normality but deep down Dean was aware they would never last. With dad gone all they had is each other and they would give each other comfort in whatever way they chose even if it was bad, even if it was sinful. All Dean was looking for was someone whose baggage matched his own and Sam…Sam was that person.
They would have to learn to carry it together – however heavy it got.
End