The Consequences of Falling - Wincest, NC-17, ~40,000 words
This story somehow got away from me and became the longest thing I've ever written. It's too long to cut and paste, so I'm putting in the link.
It's the story of Sam and Dean and how they finally got a clue. It only took, Charlie, a jealous ghost, some goats, and the International Gay Rodeo Association to do it.
Read it on Ao3
(A preview)
“Hey, whaddya think?” Dean flashes a smile and makes a dramatic swoop with the serape when Sam looks up from packing his duffle. “Awesome, right?”
Sam shakes his head. “I can’t believe you still have that outfit. And no, it’s not perfect.”
“Aw, c’mon Sam. Why you gotta be like that? Cowboys. Gay cowboys. You gotta have some flair.” He twirls - or whatever the male heterosexual equivalent of twirling is- he does that to the serape one more time. It makes an admirable whooshing sound as it swirls over his shoulder and wraps around his opposite hip. He waggles his eyebrows at Sam. “Eh? Eh? Nice, right?”
Sam rolls his eyes, but he can’t hold in the laugh, dimples on full display. Yeah, that’s what Dean was going for; that ‘you’re a dork but you’re my dork’ look. It warms the cockles of his heart.
Dragging his attention back to the business at hand, he pokes Sam in the arm. Hard. “Okay, then. What should we pack? It’s not like we got a whole lot of choices. We got plaid, and, um…” he looks in the closet. “Plaid.”
Sprawled out on Dean’s bed, Charlie snuggles deeper into the memory foam. “I vote for plaid,” she puts in.
Dean snorts. “You would. And stop making out with my bed.”
“Your bed loves me.” Charlie spreads her arms. “And don’t mock the traditional clothing of my people.”
“Lesbians,” Sam clarifies.
Charlie nods in his direction. “And your people,” she adds.
“Hunters,” Sam says. Unnecessarily in Dean’s opinion.
*****
Read the rest here
It's the story of Sam and Dean and how they finally got a clue. It only took, Charlie, a jealous ghost, some goats, and the International Gay Rodeo Association to do it.
Read it on Ao3
(A preview)
“Hey, whaddya think?” Dean flashes a smile and makes a dramatic swoop with the serape when Sam looks up from packing his duffle. “Awesome, right?”
Sam shakes his head. “I can’t believe you still have that outfit. And no, it’s not perfect.”
“Aw, c’mon Sam. Why you gotta be like that? Cowboys. Gay cowboys. You gotta have some flair.” He twirls - or whatever the male heterosexual equivalent of twirling is- he does that to the serape one more time. It makes an admirable whooshing sound as it swirls over his shoulder and wraps around his opposite hip. He waggles his eyebrows at Sam. “Eh? Eh? Nice, right?”
Sam rolls his eyes, but he can’t hold in the laugh, dimples on full display. Yeah, that’s what Dean was going for; that ‘you’re a dork but you’re my dork’ look. It warms the cockles of his heart.
Dragging his attention back to the business at hand, he pokes Sam in the arm. Hard. “Okay, then. What should we pack? It’s not like we got a whole lot of choices. We got plaid, and, um…” he looks in the closet. “Plaid.”
Sprawled out on Dean’s bed, Charlie snuggles deeper into the memory foam. “I vote for plaid,” she puts in.
Dean snorts. “You would. And stop making out with my bed.”
“Your bed loves me.” Charlie spreads her arms. “And don’t mock the traditional clothing of my people.”
“Lesbians,” Sam clarifies.
Charlie nods in his direction. “And your people,” she adds.
“Hunters,” Sam says. Unnecessarily in Dean’s opinion.
*****
Read the rest here