made my bed, now lay me down (dean/sam, R, 1/?)
So this may or may not be the WIP mpreg I was talking about *cough* & no, I'm not fucking with you.
title: made my bed, now lay me down (1/?)
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don't own em
rating: R
warnings: eventual mpreg, dubious consent
word count: 1,555
pairing: Dean/demon, Dean/Sam
summary: Dean makes a deal, it's not what you think.
notes: secret santa fic for laminy over at mpregwinchester. takes place during AHBL pt 2 and goes from there.
I brought you into this
You blame me over that
We fight each others accusations
You wanna know the truth
The truth is I'm afraid
- Adema, 'Tornado'
"You can bring Sammy back."
Dean doesn't wait for her to say anything else; he lunges forward and kisses her hard, presses their mouths together until he can barely breathe. She digs her nails into his stomach. He feels the tell-tale sting and knows she drew blood, the bitch. But he wouldn't give a damn if she had him by the balls. The only thing Dean cares about is Sam. God, just let this work. Please. If it doesn't, he might as well put a bullet in his head. Right after he puts one in hers.
The demon breaks away from him She licks her lip like she's still trying to taste him. "You Winchesters are quick on the trigger, aren't you? Pity, I would've liked to make you squirm a little more. Oh well." She sighs. "It's done anyway."
He's halfway to the car before she calls him back.
"Hey Dean?"
He turns around impatiently. "Now what?" he snarls. This bullshit is taking up too much time. Sam's back at the cabin. Alive. Waiting. All Dean wants to do is get in the Impala and press the pedal to the floor until he can make sure his brother is okay with his own two eyes. "Want me to say thank you?"
The demon cocks her head to the side. "Aren't you curious about what your part of the deal is?"
"Ten years, I go to Hell, blah blah blah." He smirks at her. "I thought we covered all that the last time, you know when I sent your ass back to Hell."
She laughs. It sounds happy and wrong. "Oh Dean, you still dont get it do you? Poor thing, you've never been the sharpest knife in the block. I don't want your soul. I thought you would figure that out." She comes up behind him, leans in close and whispers, "After all, it's never really been good enough has it? Besides, now I've got the marker on something so much better. But you know, I don't think I'll spoil the surprise after all. Girl's gotta be allowed to have a little fun."
She stands back and smiles at him then, sly and hungry, eyes glinting like rubies. Dean's stomach roils; she reminds of a cat - one that's waiting to play with a bird, right before it gets ripped to shreds - and for once, Dean knows he's the bird in this game. She knew how desperate he was. She wanted him too screwed up in the head to ask about the terms of the deal. Fuck. What has he done?
"Oh, and before I forget," the demon's smile gets even wider. "If you don't deliver on your end? Little brother dies. The end."
Dean wants to throw up. Instead he turns his back on her and climbs into the Impala. He can freak out later; right now, the only thing that matters is getting back to Sam.
*
The two of them are holed up in a tiny motel in Reliance. After they killed the demon, Dean shoved Sam into the car and drove east until his eyes started crossing; this is where they ended up. Dean's not going another damn mile until Sam loses some of that haunted look. It reminds him too much of how Sammy was right after Jess. Or Madison. They've got time. The yellow eyed bastard is dead, damnit; the ones that escaped can wait.
Dean goes out to the ice machine; he's closing the lid when someone grabs him from behind, shoves him against the cold metal of the box.
"What the fuck?"
He struggles against the hands holding him until a man's voice rasps, "Remember the deal Deano. You say no, Sammy boy goes back to feeding the worms." And just like that, Dean stops. Doesn't really matter because he still gets slammed into the ice machine, face first. He feels something warm and wet - blood - dripping down his chin and lets the man drag him into a vacant room.
Dean manages to keep his legs under him and surveys the room. Burned through the carpet is a circle - if Sam was here, Dean is sure he'd know exactly what every symbol around the damn thing meant, but Dean doesn't have a clue. It's nothing like a Devil's Trap or any other of the seals of Solomon he's seen, but he's pretty sure a demon couldn't use those anyway. The man pushes him into the center of the circle and tugs at Dean's shirt.
"Off."
"You didn't even buy me dinner," Dean snarks and gets a backhand across the face for his trouble. He spits blood, wipes his mouth on his arm. The man flicks out a wicked looking pocket knife and slices down the middle of Dean's shirt, then smears fingers through the blood on Dean's face and paints a symbol on his stomach.
"Dude, your finger painting sucks."
He gets another smack in the mouth for that and the guy jerks his head back by the hair; the man's eyes are black. "You just can't shut up can you Dean? Let's see if I can't do something about that."
The man - no, demon - pushes Dean to his knees in front of him. "This is it Deano, you gonna take one for the team? Or is little brother..."
Dean snatches at the man's zipper, tears one of his fingernails down to the quick. He jerks pants and boxers out of his way and takes a deep breath. The demon has one hand twisted in his hair, the other God knows where, and the damn thing's humming. Fucking humming. And hell, it's not like Dean hasn't done this before; he tilts forward on his knees and wraps his lips around the possessed man's dick. He concentrates on not choking when the demon starts fucking his mouth like it's going for the goddamn gold.
He can feel it when the demon's getting close, tries to turn his head away. The demon tsks. "Uh unh, baby boy. You gotta finish the job. So go ahead and swallow, it'll make everything better." The demon shrugs, "Or not."
Dean still fights until his nose is pinched shut and he swallows on reflex. Come coats the back of his throat; he chokes and gags but the demon doesn't let go until it's sure Dean's swallowed it all. Then it shoves him to the floor while it tucks itself back in and zips up its pants. Dean lies perfectly still and hopes to God that this is the end of it. He doesn't get off the floor until he hears the door click shut.
*
He doesn't tell Sam about his date with the demon, not one word. Instead he packs them up and they make the trip to Bobby's. Dean swears it's so he can get some quality time in working on the Impala - She sounds off, dude. Trust me. - but it's not like he's going to announce the fact he wants to get his hands on Bobby's books. Yeah, that would go real well, telling his brother he needs to research some freaky ass ritual that involved him giving head to a demon. And it wouldn't hurt them to stay at the salvage yard a while, at least here they're about as protected as they can be. It'll give them time to rest. Sam looks like he wants to call Dean on that, as if it wasn't the reason Dean had them stopped in Reliance, but Sam keeps quiet. Dean is pathetically grateful.
He catches Bobby giving him this look more than once. Dean knows Bobby's thinking of the deal, how stupid Dean was, no matter how much Sam meant to him. Bobby has no idea; he's working under the same impression Sam is, that Dean got the standard ten year package. He's sure as hell not in any hurry to enlighten either one of them on how wrong they are.
The only time Dean can pour through the books is when Sam and Bobby are asleep, and even then he's alert to every sound that might be one or the other of them stumbling in on him in the dark. It's not the best arrangement. Dean feels like shit on his best days now, and staying up until four or five to research isn't helping anything. But he has to keep looking. Demons don't raise the dead just to get a blow job, and Dean's pretty sure that the exhaustion that's crept into his bones isn't all from late night reading. Either way though, Dean's not getting a hell of a lot of sleep. Which is why he shouldn't really be surprised to pass out cold one morning right after his shower.
He wakes up to Sam's face hovering in his field of vision. His little brother looks two seconds away from crying. Dean reaches up and pats Sam on the side of the face with clumsy fingers, "Don't go gettin me wet, Sammy."
"Damnit Dean, I thought. I was."
And right there, on the floor of Bobby's bathroom, Sam kisses him. Dean can feel Sam's hands cradling the back of his head, can feel the rush of Sam's heart against his chest.
Well fuck, this isn't what he was expecting at all.
part 2
title: made my bed, now lay me down (1/?)
author: acidquill
disclaimer: don't own em
rating: R
warnings: eventual mpreg, dubious consent
word count: 1,555
pairing: Dean/demon, Dean/Sam
summary: Dean makes a deal, it's not what you think.
notes: secret santa fic for laminy over at mpregwinchester. takes place during AHBL pt 2 and goes from there.
I brought you into this
You blame me over that
We fight each others accusations
You wanna know the truth
The truth is I'm afraid
- Adema, 'Tornado'
"You can bring Sammy back."
Dean doesn't wait for her to say anything else; he lunges forward and kisses her hard, presses their mouths together until he can barely breathe. She digs her nails into his stomach. He feels the tell-tale sting and knows she drew blood, the bitch. But he wouldn't give a damn if she had him by the balls. The only thing Dean cares about is Sam. God, just let this work. Please. If it doesn't, he might as well put a bullet in his head. Right after he puts one in hers.
The demon breaks away from him She licks her lip like she's still trying to taste him. "You Winchesters are quick on the trigger, aren't you? Pity, I would've liked to make you squirm a little more. Oh well." She sighs. "It's done anyway."
He's halfway to the car before she calls him back.
"Hey Dean?"
He turns around impatiently. "Now what?" he snarls. This bullshit is taking up too much time. Sam's back at the cabin. Alive. Waiting. All Dean wants to do is get in the Impala and press the pedal to the floor until he can make sure his brother is okay with his own two eyes. "Want me to say thank you?"
The demon cocks her head to the side. "Aren't you curious about what your part of the deal is?"
"Ten years, I go to Hell, blah blah blah." He smirks at her. "I thought we covered all that the last time, you know when I sent your ass back to Hell."
She laughs. It sounds happy and wrong. "Oh Dean, you still dont get it do you? Poor thing, you've never been the sharpest knife in the block. I don't want your soul. I thought you would figure that out." She comes up behind him, leans in close and whispers, "After all, it's never really been good enough has it? Besides, now I've got the marker on something so much better. But you know, I don't think I'll spoil the surprise after all. Girl's gotta be allowed to have a little fun."
She stands back and smiles at him then, sly and hungry, eyes glinting like rubies. Dean's stomach roils; she reminds of a cat - one that's waiting to play with a bird, right before it gets ripped to shreds - and for once, Dean knows he's the bird in this game. She knew how desperate he was. She wanted him too screwed up in the head to ask about the terms of the deal. Fuck. What has he done?
"Oh, and before I forget," the demon's smile gets even wider. "If you don't deliver on your end? Little brother dies. The end."
Dean wants to throw up. Instead he turns his back on her and climbs into the Impala. He can freak out later; right now, the only thing that matters is getting back to Sam.
*
The two of them are holed up in a tiny motel in Reliance. After they killed the demon, Dean shoved Sam into the car and drove east until his eyes started crossing; this is where they ended up. Dean's not going another damn mile until Sam loses some of that haunted look. It reminds him too much of how Sammy was right after Jess. Or Madison. They've got time. The yellow eyed bastard is dead, damnit; the ones that escaped can wait.
Dean goes out to the ice machine; he's closing the lid when someone grabs him from behind, shoves him against the cold metal of the box.
"What the fuck?"
He struggles against the hands holding him until a man's voice rasps, "Remember the deal Deano. You say no, Sammy boy goes back to feeding the worms." And just like that, Dean stops. Doesn't really matter because he still gets slammed into the ice machine, face first. He feels something warm and wet - blood - dripping down his chin and lets the man drag him into a vacant room.
Dean manages to keep his legs under him and surveys the room. Burned through the carpet is a circle - if Sam was here, Dean is sure he'd know exactly what every symbol around the damn thing meant, but Dean doesn't have a clue. It's nothing like a Devil's Trap or any other of the seals of Solomon he's seen, but he's pretty sure a demon couldn't use those anyway. The man pushes him into the center of the circle and tugs at Dean's shirt.
"Off."
"You didn't even buy me dinner," Dean snarks and gets a backhand across the face for his trouble. He spits blood, wipes his mouth on his arm. The man flicks out a wicked looking pocket knife and slices down the middle of Dean's shirt, then smears fingers through the blood on Dean's face and paints a symbol on his stomach.
"Dude, your finger painting sucks."
He gets another smack in the mouth for that and the guy jerks his head back by the hair; the man's eyes are black. "You just can't shut up can you Dean? Let's see if I can't do something about that."
The man - no, demon - pushes Dean to his knees in front of him. "This is it Deano, you gonna take one for the team? Or is little brother..."
Dean snatches at the man's zipper, tears one of his fingernails down to the quick. He jerks pants and boxers out of his way and takes a deep breath. The demon has one hand twisted in his hair, the other God knows where, and the damn thing's humming. Fucking humming. And hell, it's not like Dean hasn't done this before; he tilts forward on his knees and wraps his lips around the possessed man's dick. He concentrates on not choking when the demon starts fucking his mouth like it's going for the goddamn gold.
He can feel it when the demon's getting close, tries to turn his head away. The demon tsks. "Uh unh, baby boy. You gotta finish the job. So go ahead and swallow, it'll make everything better." The demon shrugs, "Or not."
Dean still fights until his nose is pinched shut and he swallows on reflex. Come coats the back of his throat; he chokes and gags but the demon doesn't let go until it's sure Dean's swallowed it all. Then it shoves him to the floor while it tucks itself back in and zips up its pants. Dean lies perfectly still and hopes to God that this is the end of it. He doesn't get off the floor until he hears the door click shut.
*
He doesn't tell Sam about his date with the demon, not one word. Instead he packs them up and they make the trip to Bobby's. Dean swears it's so he can get some quality time in working on the Impala - She sounds off, dude. Trust me. - but it's not like he's going to announce the fact he wants to get his hands on Bobby's books. Yeah, that would go real well, telling his brother he needs to research some freaky ass ritual that involved him giving head to a demon. And it wouldn't hurt them to stay at the salvage yard a while, at least here they're about as protected as they can be. It'll give them time to rest. Sam looks like he wants to call Dean on that, as if it wasn't the reason Dean had them stopped in Reliance, but Sam keeps quiet. Dean is pathetically grateful.
He catches Bobby giving him this look more than once. Dean knows Bobby's thinking of the deal, how stupid Dean was, no matter how much Sam meant to him. Bobby has no idea; he's working under the same impression Sam is, that Dean got the standard ten year package. He's sure as hell not in any hurry to enlighten either one of them on how wrong they are.
The only time Dean can pour through the books is when Sam and Bobby are asleep, and even then he's alert to every sound that might be one or the other of them stumbling in on him in the dark. It's not the best arrangement. Dean feels like shit on his best days now, and staying up until four or five to research isn't helping anything. But he has to keep looking. Demons don't raise the dead just to get a blow job, and Dean's pretty sure that the exhaustion that's crept into his bones isn't all from late night reading. Either way though, Dean's not getting a hell of a lot of sleep. Which is why he shouldn't really be surprised to pass out cold one morning right after his shower.
He wakes up to Sam's face hovering in his field of vision. His little brother looks two seconds away from crying. Dean reaches up and pats Sam on the side of the face with clumsy fingers, "Don't go gettin me wet, Sammy."
"Damnit Dean, I thought. I was."
And right there, on the floor of Bobby's bathroom, Sam kisses him. Dean can feel Sam's hands cradling the back of his head, can feel the rush of Sam's heart against his chest.
Well fuck, this isn't what he was expecting at all.
part 2