Fic: Scent of a Demon
Fic: Scent of a Demon
(lame, I know, I'm at work and brain isn't really in the right gear for fic)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Jess (cannon), Sam/Meg (v. mild), Sam/Ruby (not so)
Spoilers: Up to 4.9 I think, though mostly for the look on Sam's face in that warehouse with Meg in his lap...
Rating: T+, 12ish
Warning: I'm at work writing this, so spelling is prally hideous, but this has been bugging me and I have to wait 2 hrs to see I can go home yet *twiddles thumbs*
Sam thinks he's never met someone who understood him so well when he meets Meg. He thinks she must have an older brother - maybe a sister. He's never thought about sisters but they must be the same with their younger siblings…
She smells good, something on the edge of his perception that he never had with Jess. Jess had her own smell, her shampoo and her conditioner and the whole pile of other stuff in their bathroom that he never understood the many uses of. And it smelled good, that mixture of scents, it really did. This is different, sharper. Something is drawing him to her and her smell is curling around the edges of his senses…
He's not slept in a while, maybe he's just having a bit of a break down. Smells don't curl. He recites that in his head a couple of times and then catches her looking at him funny, like everything he does amuses her. He's sure he's blushing when he looks away.
He thinks maybe it isn't a smell, as he's watching her sleeping and trying to make his brain stop over analysing. It's on the edges of his senses - but at the moment there's a leaking bus out the front of the building and all he can smell is gasoline, and it's still there. Curling. He snorts at himself and rolls over so his back is to her. He really needs to sleep.
It's still there when he decides to ring Dean at nightfall for an update. He's almost glad Dean doesn't pick up immediately, because he thinks he might ask what sirens smell like, and that was sure to throw his brother. He's going down the list of things in his head that might give off a scent so appealing. If it was even a scent.
Dean doesn't pick up, Sam worried. That felt more normal than worrying about scents that could curl and a girl with a smile he just wanted to kiss. He's sad to leave her, but life is too complicated.
--
It's the scent he picks up first, and he knows he's smelt it before. He's met more than one demon since then, and knows what sulphur smells like when it's trapped in a body. This is like that, just like that. Only sweeter.
He thinks, later, that's it's the appeal that makes him ignore the sulphurous hint. The feeling deep in his chest that makes him *want* what that smell represented. He's never had that with any other demon (and he's quite glad in some cases).
Meg presses herself up against him and he fights not to lean into that smell, so close all of a sudden. He fights to keep his mind clear, on his hands behind his back trying to untie himself and not on the smell (curling again, against his neck, his cheek). It whispered against his skin in the voice that had been the only person in the world who understood him. He thought she understood him. Maybe she did.
Much later, with Ruby in his lap and his face pressed up against that smell he'll wonder if it's his contaminated blood that gives that smell such a draw. If he was always doomed to this moment in time. Doomed to this perversion. He inhales deeply and thinks maybe he doesn't care.
(lame, I know, I'm at work and brain isn't really in the right gear for fic)
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Jess (cannon), Sam/Meg (v. mild), Sam/Ruby (not so)
Spoilers: Up to 4.9 I think, though mostly for the look on Sam's face in that warehouse with Meg in his lap...
Rating: T+, 12ish
Warning: I'm at work writing this, so spelling is prally hideous, but this has been bugging me and I have to wait 2 hrs to see I can go home yet *twiddles thumbs*
Sam thinks he's never met someone who understood him so well when he meets Meg. He thinks she must have an older brother - maybe a sister. He's never thought about sisters but they must be the same with their younger siblings…
She smells good, something on the edge of his perception that he never had with Jess. Jess had her own smell, her shampoo and her conditioner and the whole pile of other stuff in their bathroom that he never understood the many uses of. And it smelled good, that mixture of scents, it really did. This is different, sharper. Something is drawing him to her and her smell is curling around the edges of his senses…
He's not slept in a while, maybe he's just having a bit of a break down. Smells don't curl. He recites that in his head a couple of times and then catches her looking at him funny, like everything he does amuses her. He's sure he's blushing when he looks away.
He thinks maybe it isn't a smell, as he's watching her sleeping and trying to make his brain stop over analysing. It's on the edges of his senses - but at the moment there's a leaking bus out the front of the building and all he can smell is gasoline, and it's still there. Curling. He snorts at himself and rolls over so his back is to her. He really needs to sleep.
It's still there when he decides to ring Dean at nightfall for an update. He's almost glad Dean doesn't pick up immediately, because he thinks he might ask what sirens smell like, and that was sure to throw his brother. He's going down the list of things in his head that might give off a scent so appealing. If it was even a scent.
Dean doesn't pick up, Sam worried. That felt more normal than worrying about scents that could curl and a girl with a smile he just wanted to kiss. He's sad to leave her, but life is too complicated.
--
It's the scent he picks up first, and he knows he's smelt it before. He's met more than one demon since then, and knows what sulphur smells like when it's trapped in a body. This is like that, just like that. Only sweeter.
He thinks, later, that's it's the appeal that makes him ignore the sulphurous hint. The feeling deep in his chest that makes him *want* what that smell represented. He's never had that with any other demon (and he's quite glad in some cases).
Meg presses herself up against him and he fights not to lean into that smell, so close all of a sudden. He fights to keep his mind clear, on his hands behind his back trying to untie himself and not on the smell (curling again, against his neck, his cheek). It whispered against his skin in the voice that had been the only person in the world who understood him. He thought she understood him. Maybe she did.
Much later, with Ruby in his lap and his face pressed up against that smell he'll wonder if it's his contaminated blood that gives that smell such a draw. If he was always doomed to this moment in time. Doomed to this perversion. He inhales deeply and thinks maybe he doesn't care.