What Matters Most (5/8)
What Matters Most a gift for lucilla_darkate
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: What Matters Most (5/8)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 see complete warnings.
Word count: 2280 or so this part
Beta: Lucie actually betaed three quarters of this and then real life interfered… go figure. My lovely ~biza then came through and went over the whole thing.
Warnings for this chapter: some spoilers for season one, drinking, references to bloodplay, bad use of amnesia. This was completed last year so it might be rough compared to what you’re used to from me. Also, this isn’t a death fic but neither is it my normal happy ending.
Warnings for whole fic: Spoilers for part of season one, Slash (boy/boy everyone, Cursing, Incest, Bloodplay, Drunkenness, Alcoholism, Rimming, Frottage, Hints of Dom/sub, oh hell I’m sure I missed something. . . just be warned
Notes: See part one for disclaimer, summary and full notes
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four,
Somehow they managed to stay conscious enough to stumble over to the bed.
It was raining when Sam woke up. It pounding on the roof wasn’t helping his headache. Rolling over, Sam saw Dean sitting at the table, watching him. When he saw Sam was awake he brought a glass of water over, not saying anything.
Peachy.
Sam remembered everything about last night. Looking down he realized he had came in his pants and not cleaned up or anything. Drinking the water, Sam was thankful. Then his bladder spoke up and he was out of the bed heading for the bathroom quicker than he would have thought possible, considering.
He peeled his pants down with a grimace. What a mess. Pissing helped him feel better. Good enough in fact that he decided to shower. He had just stepped out of his pants when the door opened. Straightening he looked at Dean.
“You ‘kay?”
Sam’s face softened. “Yeah, just need to wash.”
Dean nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.
Standing under the water Sam tried to figure out when his life had became such a tangled mess. How the hell could he be turned on by the thought of his brother writhing beneath him, blood running down his chest where Sam had cut him? Fuck! He was coming just from the thought of it.
Sick. He was sick.
Rinsing the come off of his body and the walls of the shower, Sam turned it off and stepped out. Or tried to. Slipping he grabbed for something, anything. His last thought before he hit the wall was who was going to take care of Dean.
*****************
Waking up with Dean jabbering at him wasn’t new. Dean talking crap about Dad was just fucking unbelievable. Even after all that crap in Nebraska, and the mirrors and Bloody fucking Mary, never had he heard Dean talk bad about their dad.
“Find him and kick his ass,” Dean said just as Sam turned and looked at him. “Hey.”
“Hey. Why aren’t I on the bathroom floor?” and still naked went unspoken. “How long was I out?”
Dean looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Reaching over and grabbing a beer off of the bedside table, he took a drink before he answered him.
“Two days since you hit your head and you’ve been weird.”
He’d been weird? Wait, two days? “Two days?” Then he noticed the room they were in, yet another of a long line of motel rooms, but this one had stained blue carpet and blue paisley bedspreads. The one they’d been in, where he’d hit his head, it had had some kind of beige carpet and horrid orange floral bedspreads.
“Where are we?”
Now Dean looked at Sam with real concern. “What do you remember?”
“I remember falling and hitting my head, I guess.” Sam rubbed the spot where he still felt a knot and winced.
“What about all that crap about leaving hunting?”
Sam looked at Dean in confusion. Now he knew how Dean felt when he blacked out. “What?”
“You said,” Dean raised his eyebrow and nodded his head like he didn’t believe that Sam had said what he had said, “that you wanted to stop looking for Dad and forget about Jess. Andstayherewithme.” He rushed the last part.
“Huh?”
“You said you wanted to stay here with me,” Dean spoke a little slower. Sam stared at Dean. He had said what?
“Oh,” Sam said and watched as a spark of something, hope maybe, died in Dean’s eyes. “Did you want to? Forget about Dad, everything and just be?” Sam asked, confused.
“What? No, no. We need to find Dad.” Dean looked away. “Why don’t you remember? You hadn’t been drinking, ‘cept the night before.”
They weren’t going to talk about the night before, Sam knew, Dean knew and Sam knew Dean knew. Gah, this was making his head hurt. Really. Putting his hand up to his head, he felt for the knot again.
“I was really acting that way? Did I do anything?” When he got a raised eyebrow he tried to elucidate. “Did I hit on you?” It was what he really wanted to know.
“Yeah,” Dean gave him a small grin. “You tried to get me drunk and have your way with me.”
“I did what?” Sam’s voice rose like he was twelve again. He coughed. “I mean, I did what?”
Sitting back Dean crossed his arms, he seemed to be enjoying himself. “You really don’t remember?”
“Duh, would I be asking you if I did?”
“Dunno, maybe.”
“Dude, fucking forget it. I don’t remember it.”
A look of concern flashed across Dean’s face, then it was gone. “Fine, I won’t tell you what you said to me in the bathroom.”
Looking at Dean, Sam narrowed his eyes. “What did I say?”
Dean laughed and waved his hands as if to ward off Sam’s look. “None of that.” He got up and walked to the window, twitching the curtain back a little looked outside.
Sam swung his legs around and got up. He wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but if Dean wasn’t having one over on him, he’d been awake and doing things for the past two days and he didn’t remember any of it. Going to the bathroom and then brushing his teeth, he found that he was staring in the mirror, like he didn’t recognize himself.
He could feel that something had changed between him and Dean, but damned if he knew what. He really wanted his memory back.
Pissing and then heading back into the bedroom, he nearly ran Dean over as he opened the door. “Dude.”
Dean backed off so quickly that he almost fell on his ass.
“Dean, what the fuck?” Sam reached out and grabbed his arm. Dean hissed in pain and Sam pushed the sleeve of his shirt up. Dean had at least two new cuts. Dropping his arm just as Dean pulled back. “Seriously, what the fuck?”
“Don’t like seeing your handiwork?” Dean sneered at him.
Sam backed up at looked at Dean. No, that was his fantasy, he would have never. . .but it seemed he had. Staggering over to the table Sam sat and put his head down. He was closer to passing out than he had ever been before.
In goes the good air, out goes the bad. He didn’t even remember where he had heard the stupid saying, but it helped him not to think. In goes the good air, out goes the bad.
Somehow they got through the night, both of them tiptoeing around all the issues that they had scattered between them like broken glass. The next morning they packed up, didn’t talk about anything but where they should go next. Moving on, they headed out to Oklahoma. The people in that housing development kept thinking that they were a couple and god did Dean have fun with that.
Dean telling him that Dad was proud of him shocked Sam to his core. It was one of those moment in which you can decide to change or just stay the same. For the first time some of his anger at his father bled away. Sam had known that they had been around Stanford that one time but never after that. Managing to protect that family, Larry and Matt, Sam decided that he needed to apologize to Dad.
That night he started having a dream. A woman was standing at a window, screaming. He had the dream the next night and the next night and the next. Finally he started drawing pictures from his dreams, the same dead looking tree. Dean was tossing up new jobs for them to take when flipping back and forth between the pictures he remembered where he had seen it before.
Explaining to Dean that he sometimes had these dreams that came true wasn’t easy; he didn’t take it too well. Probably wanted a drink is what Sam figured getting him a beer.
“We need to go home. To Lawrence.” The look he got was one full of pain.
Somewhere along the line, Sam had decided that Dean was right. The good thing about this job was saving families. He talked Dean into going home and they went.
Sam drove while Dean drank and drank. Pulling into a motel, just off of the turnpike, right outside of town, Sam decided that Dean needed to either be completely shitfaced when they got to town or a bit more of his ‘acting sober’ self. Sam got the key and let Dean in while he got the bags from the backseat.
Walking through the door, Dean surprised Sam. Pushing him against the wall and trying to kiss him. Sam lifted his mouth away from Dean who growled and attacked his neck. Wondering what the hell had gotten into Dean, Sam pushed him back.
“Dean.”
“Sam. Sam. Sam.” Dean said it as though he was pleading for something.
“I didn’t get a room for this.”
“Fine.” The word was angrily said. Dean walked over to get a chair, the only one the cheap assed room had. “Tell me, Einstein, why did you get the room.”
“Look, you’ve been upset ever since we started back to Lawrence. I just thought that you might want to sober up some or just get plowed before we head into town.”
“How can I watch your back if I’m plowed?”
Sam shrugged. “Sober then?”
Dean seemed to consider it. “Like dry out kind of sober?”
“No, your normal ‘act if everything was okay’ sober.”
“If that’s all, sure.” Dean gave him a grin, then it was gone. “I promised I’d never come back.”
“That family is in danger, Dean and we can help.”
“I know, it’s just. . .”
Nodding in understanding, Sam went and sat on the end of the bed, so he wasn’t looming over Dean. Sam had found that he could loom without even trying. “What do you need?” Sam asked Dean who was swaying a bit in his seat.
“Food, a night’s sleep and a beer in the morning.”
Sam nodded, he could do that. “I’ll go and get us some food. What do you want?”
“Chinese sounds good. Or Thai, that would work too.”
“I think there was a Thai place we passed on the way here. I’ll go and grab us some.”
Getting up from the chair, Dean went and lay down on the bed. “Sweet, wake me when you get back.”
Shaking his head at Dean, Sam dug the keys out of his pocket and headed out to find food. Returning with an order of Pad Thai and some Panang curry with Jasmine rice, Sam quietly opened the door. And found Dean crying. What the fuck had happened now? He sat the food on the counter and crouched down in front of Dean who had been so lost in his own world that he hadn’t noticed Sam.
“Sam.” He sat up and wiped his tears away.
“What is it? Did something happen?”
“What? No, no. Nothing happened, I just tried to call Dad again. Why won’t he answer Sam? Does he hate me? Did I fuck up so badly?”
Knowing how important Dad was to Dean, Sam tried to reassure him. Dean insisted he was fine and got up. “What’d ya get?” He opened a bag. “Pad Thai, great.” Taking a bite he asked, “Where’s the beer?”
“Beer in the morning, remember?” Sam had put what they had in the Impala in the fridge to cool.
“Right,” he sighed and Sam watched as he again went into denial mode. Sam wished he knew what to say that would make Dean talk about everything, hell anything would be nice.
Getting out the curry, Sam mixed it with the rice and then got himself a beer, earning a look from Dean. “What?” Dean just shook his head and took another bite of his food.
“So,” Sam said.
“So.”
“Tomorrow, we go home.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Dean tried to sound offhanded about it but Sam knew he wasn’t.
“So, we should sleep.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Dean said again and then slumped over to a bed, lay down and within a few moments was sleeping. Sam sat up for a while, watching him. It helped that he didn’t really want to sleep and have more visions or nightmares or both.
Dean started tossing and turning and Sam tried to wake him. “No, Daddy. I don’t wanna leave Sammy. Don’t make me.” What the fuck? Sam paused with his hand over his brother’s shoulder. “Promise, I’ll take care of him. Promise.” The last word was said so loudly that Dean woke himself up. He moved back from Sam’s outstretched hand. “Dude, what are you doing?”
“I was going to wake you up, you were having a nightmare.”
“Whatever.”
“You know, I’m not the one who hits on you all the fucking time.”
Dean looked confused and for a moment Sam almost let it go. However, Sam saw something, a flash of knowledge or memory and he sat on the bed next to Dean. “You sober?” Shrugging, Dean watched Sam.
Deciding that this was as good a moment as any, Sam put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and watching closely for any sign that what he was doing wasn’t welcomed, he slowly leaned in and stopped just before his lips touched Dean’s. He could feel Dean’s breath on his lips and he knew Dean could feel his and he held still, waiting. They sat like that for a moment, like a tableau, frozen in time and space. Then Dean moved just enough that their lips touched and Sam forced himself not to pounce, because that was exactly what he wanted to do.
Part Six,
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: What Matters Most (5/8)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 see complete warnings.
Word count: 2280 or so this part
Beta: Lucie actually betaed three quarters of this and then real life interfered… go figure. My lovely ~biza then came through and went over the whole thing.
Warnings for this chapter: some spoilers for season one, drinking, references to bloodplay, bad use of amnesia. This was completed last year so it might be rough compared to what you’re used to from me. Also, this isn’t a death fic but neither is it my normal happy ending.
Warnings for whole fic: Spoilers for part of season one, Slash (boy/boy everyone, Cursing, Incest, Bloodplay, Drunkenness, Alcoholism, Rimming, Frottage, Hints of Dom/sub, oh hell I’m sure I missed something. . . just be warned
Notes: See part one for disclaimer, summary and full notes
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four,
Somehow they managed to stay conscious enough to stumble over to the bed.
It was raining when Sam woke up. It pounding on the roof wasn’t helping his headache. Rolling over, Sam saw Dean sitting at the table, watching him. When he saw Sam was awake he brought a glass of water over, not saying anything.
Peachy.
Sam remembered everything about last night. Looking down he realized he had came in his pants and not cleaned up or anything. Drinking the water, Sam was thankful. Then his bladder spoke up and he was out of the bed heading for the bathroom quicker than he would have thought possible, considering.
He peeled his pants down with a grimace. What a mess. Pissing helped him feel better. Good enough in fact that he decided to shower. He had just stepped out of his pants when the door opened. Straightening he looked at Dean.
“You ‘kay?”
Sam’s face softened. “Yeah, just need to wash.”
Dean nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.
Standing under the water Sam tried to figure out when his life had became such a tangled mess. How the hell could he be turned on by the thought of his brother writhing beneath him, blood running down his chest where Sam had cut him? Fuck! He was coming just from the thought of it.
Sick. He was sick.
Rinsing the come off of his body and the walls of the shower, Sam turned it off and stepped out. Or tried to. Slipping he grabbed for something, anything. His last thought before he hit the wall was who was going to take care of Dean.
*****************
Waking up with Dean jabbering at him wasn’t new. Dean talking crap about Dad was just fucking unbelievable. Even after all that crap in Nebraska, and the mirrors and Bloody fucking Mary, never had he heard Dean talk bad about their dad.
“Find him and kick his ass,” Dean said just as Sam turned and looked at him. “Hey.”
“Hey. Why aren’t I on the bathroom floor?” and still naked went unspoken. “How long was I out?”
Dean looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Reaching over and grabbing a beer off of the bedside table, he took a drink before he answered him.
“Two days since you hit your head and you’ve been weird.”
He’d been weird? Wait, two days? “Two days?” Then he noticed the room they were in, yet another of a long line of motel rooms, but this one had stained blue carpet and blue paisley bedspreads. The one they’d been in, where he’d hit his head, it had had some kind of beige carpet and horrid orange floral bedspreads.
“Where are we?”
Now Dean looked at Sam with real concern. “What do you remember?”
“I remember falling and hitting my head, I guess.” Sam rubbed the spot where he still felt a knot and winced.
“What about all that crap about leaving hunting?”
Sam looked at Dean in confusion. Now he knew how Dean felt when he blacked out. “What?”
“You said,” Dean raised his eyebrow and nodded his head like he didn’t believe that Sam had said what he had said, “that you wanted to stop looking for Dad and forget about Jess. Andstayherewithme.” He rushed the last part.
“Huh?”
“You said you wanted to stay here with me,” Dean spoke a little slower. Sam stared at Dean. He had said what?
“Oh,” Sam said and watched as a spark of something, hope maybe, died in Dean’s eyes. “Did you want to? Forget about Dad, everything and just be?” Sam asked, confused.
“What? No, no. We need to find Dad.” Dean looked away. “Why don’t you remember? You hadn’t been drinking, ‘cept the night before.”
They weren’t going to talk about the night before, Sam knew, Dean knew and Sam knew Dean knew. Gah, this was making his head hurt. Really. Putting his hand up to his head, he felt for the knot again.
“I was really acting that way? Did I do anything?” When he got a raised eyebrow he tried to elucidate. “Did I hit on you?” It was what he really wanted to know.
“Yeah,” Dean gave him a small grin. “You tried to get me drunk and have your way with me.”
“I did what?” Sam’s voice rose like he was twelve again. He coughed. “I mean, I did what?”
Sitting back Dean crossed his arms, he seemed to be enjoying himself. “You really don’t remember?”
“Duh, would I be asking you if I did?”
“Dunno, maybe.”
“Dude, fucking forget it. I don’t remember it.”
A look of concern flashed across Dean’s face, then it was gone. “Fine, I won’t tell you what you said to me in the bathroom.”
Looking at Dean, Sam narrowed his eyes. “What did I say?”
Dean laughed and waved his hands as if to ward off Sam’s look. “None of that.” He got up and walked to the window, twitching the curtain back a little looked outside.
Sam swung his legs around and got up. He wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but if Dean wasn’t having one over on him, he’d been awake and doing things for the past two days and he didn’t remember any of it. Going to the bathroom and then brushing his teeth, he found that he was staring in the mirror, like he didn’t recognize himself.
He could feel that something had changed between him and Dean, but damned if he knew what. He really wanted his memory back.
Pissing and then heading back into the bedroom, he nearly ran Dean over as he opened the door. “Dude.”
Dean backed off so quickly that he almost fell on his ass.
“Dean, what the fuck?” Sam reached out and grabbed his arm. Dean hissed in pain and Sam pushed the sleeve of his shirt up. Dean had at least two new cuts. Dropping his arm just as Dean pulled back. “Seriously, what the fuck?”
“Don’t like seeing your handiwork?” Dean sneered at him.
Sam backed up at looked at Dean. No, that was his fantasy, he would have never. . .but it seemed he had. Staggering over to the table Sam sat and put his head down. He was closer to passing out than he had ever been before.
In goes the good air, out goes the bad. He didn’t even remember where he had heard the stupid saying, but it helped him not to think. In goes the good air, out goes the bad.
Somehow they got through the night, both of them tiptoeing around all the issues that they had scattered between them like broken glass. The next morning they packed up, didn’t talk about anything but where they should go next. Moving on, they headed out to Oklahoma. The people in that housing development kept thinking that they were a couple and god did Dean have fun with that.
Dean telling him that Dad was proud of him shocked Sam to his core. It was one of those moment in which you can decide to change or just stay the same. For the first time some of his anger at his father bled away. Sam had known that they had been around Stanford that one time but never after that. Managing to protect that family, Larry and Matt, Sam decided that he needed to apologize to Dad.
That night he started having a dream. A woman was standing at a window, screaming. He had the dream the next night and the next night and the next. Finally he started drawing pictures from his dreams, the same dead looking tree. Dean was tossing up new jobs for them to take when flipping back and forth between the pictures he remembered where he had seen it before.
Explaining to Dean that he sometimes had these dreams that came true wasn’t easy; he didn’t take it too well. Probably wanted a drink is what Sam figured getting him a beer.
“We need to go home. To Lawrence.” The look he got was one full of pain.
Somewhere along the line, Sam had decided that Dean was right. The good thing about this job was saving families. He talked Dean into going home and they went.
Sam drove while Dean drank and drank. Pulling into a motel, just off of the turnpike, right outside of town, Sam decided that Dean needed to either be completely shitfaced when they got to town or a bit more of his ‘acting sober’ self. Sam got the key and let Dean in while he got the bags from the backseat.
Walking through the door, Dean surprised Sam. Pushing him against the wall and trying to kiss him. Sam lifted his mouth away from Dean who growled and attacked his neck. Wondering what the hell had gotten into Dean, Sam pushed him back.
“Dean.”
“Sam. Sam. Sam.” Dean said it as though he was pleading for something.
“I didn’t get a room for this.”
“Fine.” The word was angrily said. Dean walked over to get a chair, the only one the cheap assed room had. “Tell me, Einstein, why did you get the room.”
“Look, you’ve been upset ever since we started back to Lawrence. I just thought that you might want to sober up some or just get plowed before we head into town.”
“How can I watch your back if I’m plowed?”
Sam shrugged. “Sober then?”
Dean seemed to consider it. “Like dry out kind of sober?”
“No, your normal ‘act if everything was okay’ sober.”
“If that’s all, sure.” Dean gave him a grin, then it was gone. “I promised I’d never come back.”
“That family is in danger, Dean and we can help.”
“I know, it’s just. . .”
Nodding in understanding, Sam went and sat on the end of the bed, so he wasn’t looming over Dean. Sam had found that he could loom without even trying. “What do you need?” Sam asked Dean who was swaying a bit in his seat.
“Food, a night’s sleep and a beer in the morning.”
Sam nodded, he could do that. “I’ll go and get us some food. What do you want?”
“Chinese sounds good. Or Thai, that would work too.”
“I think there was a Thai place we passed on the way here. I’ll go and grab us some.”
Getting up from the chair, Dean went and lay down on the bed. “Sweet, wake me when you get back.”
Shaking his head at Dean, Sam dug the keys out of his pocket and headed out to find food. Returning with an order of Pad Thai and some Panang curry with Jasmine rice, Sam quietly opened the door. And found Dean crying. What the fuck had happened now? He sat the food on the counter and crouched down in front of Dean who had been so lost in his own world that he hadn’t noticed Sam.
“Sam.” He sat up and wiped his tears away.
“What is it? Did something happen?”
“What? No, no. Nothing happened, I just tried to call Dad again. Why won’t he answer Sam? Does he hate me? Did I fuck up so badly?”
Knowing how important Dad was to Dean, Sam tried to reassure him. Dean insisted he was fine and got up. “What’d ya get?” He opened a bag. “Pad Thai, great.” Taking a bite he asked, “Where’s the beer?”
“Beer in the morning, remember?” Sam had put what they had in the Impala in the fridge to cool.
“Right,” he sighed and Sam watched as he again went into denial mode. Sam wished he knew what to say that would make Dean talk about everything, hell anything would be nice.
Getting out the curry, Sam mixed it with the rice and then got himself a beer, earning a look from Dean. “What?” Dean just shook his head and took another bite of his food.
“So,” Sam said.
“So.”
“Tomorrow, we go home.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Dean tried to sound offhanded about it but Sam knew he wasn’t.
“So, we should sleep.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Dean said again and then slumped over to a bed, lay down and within a few moments was sleeping. Sam sat up for a while, watching him. It helped that he didn’t really want to sleep and have more visions or nightmares or both.
Dean started tossing and turning and Sam tried to wake him. “No, Daddy. I don’t wanna leave Sammy. Don’t make me.” What the fuck? Sam paused with his hand over his brother’s shoulder. “Promise, I’ll take care of him. Promise.” The last word was said so loudly that Dean woke himself up. He moved back from Sam’s outstretched hand. “Dude, what are you doing?”
“I was going to wake you up, you were having a nightmare.”
“Whatever.”
“You know, I’m not the one who hits on you all the fucking time.”
Dean looked confused and for a moment Sam almost let it go. However, Sam saw something, a flash of knowledge or memory and he sat on the bed next to Dean. “You sober?” Shrugging, Dean watched Sam.
Deciding that this was as good a moment as any, Sam put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and watching closely for any sign that what he was doing wasn’t welcomed, he slowly leaned in and stopped just before his lips touched Dean’s. He could feel Dean’s breath on his lips and he knew Dean could feel his and he held still, waiting. They sat like that for a moment, like a tableau, frozen in time and space. Then Dean moved just enough that their lips touched and Sam forced himself not to pounce, because that was exactly what he wanted to do.
Part Six,