X-Men/Supernatural Fic: 'Devils & Flames' (1/7) (PG-13)
Title: Devils & Flames (1/7)
Fandom: X-Men (Movie), Supernatural
Author: deep_salt_water
Cast of Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Rogue, John Allerdyce
Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me; they belong to 20th Century Fox, Marvel, Eric Kripke and the CW. I do however, claim the plot and most of the words spoken as mine.
Word Count: 1520
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Winchesters cross paths with a mutant girl known only as Rogue, and things start to get a little complicated.
Placement: Post-X3, post 2.04 on Supernatural
Spoilers/Warnings: X3, Supernatural - kinda, sexual references, a little violence
A/N:
Thank you to feeferj for beta duty, scatterhearts for helping with the initial plotting, and ragincajunette for being the Supernatural consultant.
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“Oh come on, Dean. Why not? She’s your type.”
“She is not my type.” Dean looked at his brother, the beer halfway to his lips. “I have a type?”
Sam nodded, smiling as he looked at the barmaid that had only moments ago slipped Dean a folded piece of paper with a room number on it. “Blonde, busty… easy.”
“That is not my type.” This time the bottle made it all the way to his lips, and Dean took a large swig. He smirked as he set it down. “They don’t always have to be blonde.”
Sam sat there in disbelief, still not able to comprehend how Dean could suddenly seem so uninterested in a sure thing. “Are you seriously telling me you’re not going to take her up on her offer?”
“Yes, Sammy, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
The younger Winchester grinned, laughing. “You sure that’s just beer you’re drinking?”
Dean cocked an eyebrow, turning on the stool to face Sam. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged, still laughing. “Nothing.” He took a sip of beer; aware his brother was still looking at him. “Well, it’s just I’ve never known you to pass up an opportunity at no strings sex, that’s all.”
Dean cast his eye around the dingy bar. His gaze fell on the blonde barmaid for a moment before moving on. “She’s just not doing anything for me, is that so hard to believe?”
Sam stopped laughing. He shook his head. “I guess not.”
Dean nodded once, putting an end to the conversation. “Good.” He picked up his beer again, draining the last of it. “You finished?”
Sam looked at his own bottle. It was still full to the top of the label, but he made a noise of affirmation anyway before following his brother out of the bar. “Hey, Dean. You okay?”
Dean turned to look at his brother, giving him his trademark smile. “Peachy keen, Sammy.”
Sam frowned. “Right. I think you just using the words ‘peachy keen’ pretty much says otherwise.”
Dean had pulled the car keys from his jacket pocket, but spun on his heel to face his brother. He let out a sigh, taking a moment to think about something. “I’m fine, okay? It’s just… I don’t know. Busty blondes in bars.”
Sam tilted his head. “It sounds like some low grade porn film.” His amusement died when Dean didn’t even smile. He cleared his throat, standing next to his brother as they both leant against the side of the black 1967 Chevy Impala. “Okay, what about busty blondes in bars?”
Dean was frowning, watching the bar’s entrance. He glanced at Sam about to reply, before his attention was drawn towards a woman stepping out of the bar. He stared at the girl, his gaze taking in everything from the platinum streaks, to the boot heels visible beneath her tight fitting jeans.
“What is it?”
“Hmm?”
Sam squeezed his brother’s shoulder, looking concerned. “You’re spacing out on me, man. What is it?”
Dean tore his gaze away from the girl long enough to smile at Sam, before waving a hand in her direction and turning back to look at her again. “Now her, she’s my type.”
Sam followed his brother’s gaze, watching as the girl fumbled in her bag for something. She was definitely attractive, so he couldn’t exactly fault his brother for becoming distracted.
“She’s got…” Dean made vague motions with his hands, a lopsided grin gracing his features. “Curves. And that mouth…” his eyes began to glaze over at the thought of what he’d like to do to it. And what he’d like it to do to him.
Sam sighed, gingerly folding his arms over his chest, making sure his injured arm rest on top as he resigned himself to watching his brother drool over some stranger. He chuckled quietly, trying to remember the last time his brother had acted like this. He frowned when his mind drew a blank. He heard Dean let out a longing groan, and Sam looked back at the girl. He smiled knowingly as he saw her bending over to pick up an object off the ground. He looked back at his brother, his smile widening as he saw Dean biting his lip as his head tilted to check her out.
Dean’s gaze had dropped to the girl’s impressive cleavage. He released his bottom lip, hissing out a breath. “Damn.” He followed her every movement as she straightened up, his eyes traveling over her curves. She turned her head to look at something, and the frown and stiffening in her muscles was enough to make Dean snap out of his reverie. He turned his head, trying to see what she was looking at. Two guys who looked like they’d had a few too many beers and belonged in some frat house were walking towards her.
She held her ground, but he could see she wanted them to just keep on walking. They didn’t. The one with the football jersey was leering at her, clearly intending to do more than initiate a discussion on his team’s latest win.
“Hey, baby. What’s a girl with a fine ass like yours doing out here all alone?”
“Fucking frat boys,” Dean cursed.
“You know, we could just stay out here, keep you company until your boyfriend comes. Or if you were feeling more in a party mood, well, you could always come with us.”
“I think maybe you boys have probably had enough to drink for tonight.” Even with the distance, Dean heard the hint of Southern drawl in her voice and couldn’t help imagining what that voice would sound like moaning his name. “Why don’t you just hail yourselves a cab and go sleep it off.”
The football jersey guy stepped in close to her. “And I bet a pretty thing like you would be real good at keeping me company while I ah, ‘sleep’ it off. Wouldn’t you?”
Her face contorted to reflect her obvious disgust at the mere thought of sharing a bed with the jock. “How about you curl up with your friend here, instead?”
The jock’s face turned into a mask of fury. “So that’s the way you wanna play it, little girl? You’re probably a fucking dyke anyway. We should teach you some goddamn lessons about manners.”
The other guy was nodding eagerly; his eyes fixed on a point very much below her eye level. They were once again advancing on her, intent on not giving her any space. Dean started walking back towards the bar, and Sam followed him. He wasn’t really sure what his brother had in mind, but they both came to a stop when the girl placed her hands on each of the college boys’ faces.
Veins pulsed under their skin as well as the girl’s, and their mouths opened in silent screams of pain, but she didn’t let go.
“Hey!”
She pulled her hands from the boys’ faces at the sound of Dean’s voice, her head snapping up to look at him. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly as she panted. “Leave me alone.”
He stopped at her harsh tone, frowning. He looked down at the frat boys. The colour had drained from their faces, and their breathing was shallow. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Not until I know what you are, anyway. “What did you do to them?”
She sucked in a breath, the heel of her palm pressing against her forehead as she squeezed her eyes shut. “Just give me a moment. Their minds are as filthy as their mouths.”
Sam gave his brother a questioning look that Dean could only answer with a shrug. She obviously hadn’t killed the jocks, but she’d taken something from them. Normally his first instinct was to try and protect the victims, but he found himself more concerned about the girl than the passed out frat boys. It troubled him. Or at least it should have.
“What did you do to them?” Sam repeated his brother’s question, eyes on the girl as she started to slow her breathing.
Her eyes opened, her gaze taking them both in. “Nothing they didn’t have coming. At least not if they messed with me.” She watched Sam as he came up and crouched beside the frat boys, taking their pulses. “It’ll take a little time for them to come around, but they’ll be okay. I didn’t take enough to seriously harm them.”
“Take enough of what,” Sam asked as he stood up.
She shifted her weight, looking down at her hands. When she looked back up, her eyes met Dean’s. “I had no choice.” She looked back down at the fallen college guys. “I don’t have time for Friends of Humanity.” Without another a word, she turned and started to walk away.
Dean and Sam exchanged looks, both trying to work out who, or what they were dealing with. Dean ran a hand through his hair, turning to watch the retreating figure of the girl.
His brother stepped up behind him. “What the hell was that about?”
“Wish I knew, Sammy.”
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Fandom: X-Men (Movie), Supernatural
Author: deep_salt_water
Cast of Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Rogue, John Allerdyce
Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me; they belong to 20th Century Fox, Marvel, Eric Kripke and the CW. I do however, claim the plot and most of the words spoken as mine.
Word Count: 1520
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The Winchesters cross paths with a mutant girl known only as Rogue, and things start to get a little complicated.
Placement: Post-X3, post 2.04 on Supernatural
Spoilers/Warnings: X3, Supernatural - kinda, sexual references, a little violence
A/N:
Thank you to feeferj for beta duty, scatterhearts for helping with the initial plotting, and ragincajunette for being the Supernatural consultant.
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“Oh come on, Dean. Why not? She’s your type.”
“She is not my type.” Dean looked at his brother, the beer halfway to his lips. “I have a type?”
Sam nodded, smiling as he looked at the barmaid that had only moments ago slipped Dean a folded piece of paper with a room number on it. “Blonde, busty… easy.”
“That is not my type.” This time the bottle made it all the way to his lips, and Dean took a large swig. He smirked as he set it down. “They don’t always have to be blonde.”
Sam sat there in disbelief, still not able to comprehend how Dean could suddenly seem so uninterested in a sure thing. “Are you seriously telling me you’re not going to take her up on her offer?”
“Yes, Sammy, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
The younger Winchester grinned, laughing. “You sure that’s just beer you’re drinking?”
Dean cocked an eyebrow, turning on the stool to face Sam. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged, still laughing. “Nothing.” He took a sip of beer; aware his brother was still looking at him. “Well, it’s just I’ve never known you to pass up an opportunity at no strings sex, that’s all.”
Dean cast his eye around the dingy bar. His gaze fell on the blonde barmaid for a moment before moving on. “She’s just not doing anything for me, is that so hard to believe?”
Sam stopped laughing. He shook his head. “I guess not.”
Dean nodded once, putting an end to the conversation. “Good.” He picked up his beer again, draining the last of it. “You finished?”
Sam looked at his own bottle. It was still full to the top of the label, but he made a noise of affirmation anyway before following his brother out of the bar. “Hey, Dean. You okay?”
Dean turned to look at his brother, giving him his trademark smile. “Peachy keen, Sammy.”
Sam frowned. “Right. I think you just using the words ‘peachy keen’ pretty much says otherwise.”
Dean had pulled the car keys from his jacket pocket, but spun on his heel to face his brother. He let out a sigh, taking a moment to think about something. “I’m fine, okay? It’s just… I don’t know. Busty blondes in bars.”
Sam tilted his head. “It sounds like some low grade porn film.” His amusement died when Dean didn’t even smile. He cleared his throat, standing next to his brother as they both leant against the side of the black 1967 Chevy Impala. “Okay, what about busty blondes in bars?”
Dean was frowning, watching the bar’s entrance. He glanced at Sam about to reply, before his attention was drawn towards a woman stepping out of the bar. He stared at the girl, his gaze taking in everything from the platinum streaks, to the boot heels visible beneath her tight fitting jeans.
“What is it?”
“Hmm?”
Sam squeezed his brother’s shoulder, looking concerned. “You’re spacing out on me, man. What is it?”
Dean tore his gaze away from the girl long enough to smile at Sam, before waving a hand in her direction and turning back to look at her again. “Now her, she’s my type.”
Sam followed his brother’s gaze, watching as the girl fumbled in her bag for something. She was definitely attractive, so he couldn’t exactly fault his brother for becoming distracted.
“She’s got…” Dean made vague motions with his hands, a lopsided grin gracing his features. “Curves. And that mouth…” his eyes began to glaze over at the thought of what he’d like to do to it. And what he’d like it to do to him.
Sam sighed, gingerly folding his arms over his chest, making sure his injured arm rest on top as he resigned himself to watching his brother drool over some stranger. He chuckled quietly, trying to remember the last time his brother had acted like this. He frowned when his mind drew a blank. He heard Dean let out a longing groan, and Sam looked back at the girl. He smiled knowingly as he saw her bending over to pick up an object off the ground. He looked back at his brother, his smile widening as he saw Dean biting his lip as his head tilted to check her out.
Dean’s gaze had dropped to the girl’s impressive cleavage. He released his bottom lip, hissing out a breath. “Damn.” He followed her every movement as she straightened up, his eyes traveling over her curves. She turned her head to look at something, and the frown and stiffening in her muscles was enough to make Dean snap out of his reverie. He turned his head, trying to see what she was looking at. Two guys who looked like they’d had a few too many beers and belonged in some frat house were walking towards her.
She held her ground, but he could see she wanted them to just keep on walking. They didn’t. The one with the football jersey was leering at her, clearly intending to do more than initiate a discussion on his team’s latest win.
“Hey, baby. What’s a girl with a fine ass like yours doing out here all alone?”
“Fucking frat boys,” Dean cursed.
“You know, we could just stay out here, keep you company until your boyfriend comes. Or if you were feeling more in a party mood, well, you could always come with us.”
“I think maybe you boys have probably had enough to drink for tonight.” Even with the distance, Dean heard the hint of Southern drawl in her voice and couldn’t help imagining what that voice would sound like moaning his name. “Why don’t you just hail yourselves a cab and go sleep it off.”
The football jersey guy stepped in close to her. “And I bet a pretty thing like you would be real good at keeping me company while I ah, ‘sleep’ it off. Wouldn’t you?”
Her face contorted to reflect her obvious disgust at the mere thought of sharing a bed with the jock. “How about you curl up with your friend here, instead?”
The jock’s face turned into a mask of fury. “So that’s the way you wanna play it, little girl? You’re probably a fucking dyke anyway. We should teach you some goddamn lessons about manners.”
The other guy was nodding eagerly; his eyes fixed on a point very much below her eye level. They were once again advancing on her, intent on not giving her any space. Dean started walking back towards the bar, and Sam followed him. He wasn’t really sure what his brother had in mind, but they both came to a stop when the girl placed her hands on each of the college boys’ faces.
Veins pulsed under their skin as well as the girl’s, and their mouths opened in silent screams of pain, but she didn’t let go.
“Hey!”
She pulled her hands from the boys’ faces at the sound of Dean’s voice, her head snapping up to look at him. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly as she panted. “Leave me alone.”
He stopped at her harsh tone, frowning. He looked down at the frat boys. The colour had drained from their faces, and their breathing was shallow. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Not until I know what you are, anyway. “What did you do to them?”
She sucked in a breath, the heel of her palm pressing against her forehead as she squeezed her eyes shut. “Just give me a moment. Their minds are as filthy as their mouths.”
Sam gave his brother a questioning look that Dean could only answer with a shrug. She obviously hadn’t killed the jocks, but she’d taken something from them. Normally his first instinct was to try and protect the victims, but he found himself more concerned about the girl than the passed out frat boys. It troubled him. Or at least it should have.
“What did you do to them?” Sam repeated his brother’s question, eyes on the girl as she started to slow her breathing.
Her eyes opened, her gaze taking them both in. “Nothing they didn’t have coming. At least not if they messed with me.” She watched Sam as he came up and crouched beside the frat boys, taking their pulses. “It’ll take a little time for them to come around, but they’ll be okay. I didn’t take enough to seriously harm them.”
“Take enough of what,” Sam asked as he stood up.
She shifted her weight, looking down at her hands. When she looked back up, her eyes met Dean’s. “I had no choice.” She looked back down at the fallen college guys. “I don’t have time for Friends of Humanity.” Without another a word, she turned and started to walk away.
Dean and Sam exchanged looks, both trying to work out who, or what they were dealing with. Dean ran a hand through his hair, turning to watch the retreating figure of the girl.
His brother stepped up behind him. “What the hell was that about?”
“Wish I knew, Sammy.”
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