I don't know about you guys, but I cannot stop thinking about Batcave fic. Bathrobe and fancy aged liquor and possible bubble bath and stacks of books and secret doors etc!
Please prompt and write/art. I want to make more batcave stick figure art and stuff.
( Read more... )
Please prompt and write/art. I want to make more batcave stick figure art and stuff.
( Read more... )
"What's wrong?" Dean asked, but Sam was already shooting up out of his chair, headed for the room where he'd been sleeping. Maybe if he said it out loud, that would be enough. He waved a hand at Dean and put the other one over his stomach, hoping that would send the right signal. Dean's screwed-up face suggested it had, and Sam gratefully escaped.
His reprieve didn't last long. Dean was knocking on his door within ten minutes, demanding to know what was going on. Sam took a deep breath. He'd made his confession to the empty air of his bedroom, and that strange sensation was no longer in his throat. Figuring the spell had run its course, he flung open the door, ready to say something about how maybe it was time to start buying groceries and cooking their own meals instead of relying on preservatives from the 1950s.
Instead, he looked Dean in the eye and said, "I have never stopped wanting you."
For a second, there was dead silence. Horrified, Sam put his hand to his mouth, like he could push the words back in. Dean's eyes were wide, lips parted, and if there had been any point to it, Sam would have slammed the door in his face and hidden in his room until he became part of the dusty furnishings of the bunker.
After a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, Dean asked, "Sam?" with a thousand other questions woven into his voice: what do you mean? and are you all right? and what the hell brought this on?
Sam drew in a deep breath. He could answer the last one of those, at least. "There was a book," he explained. "About Veritas. It had a spell in it, I guess, and I didn't read the whole thing out loud, but I guess maybe I read enough."
"You guess." Dean had grimaced at the goddess's name, but now Sam could practically see the gears working in his head. "Enough to do what?"
Here it was. The moment where Sam could play it off as a practical joke, like he was getting Dean back for the 1940s clown mask that had been on his pillow last week. He wasn't feeling that strange compulsion anymore, and he knew that when he next opened his mouth, his words would be his own.
Which was why he had to tell the truth.
With more trepidation than Sam had felt facing down the gigantic golem, he put a hand on the doorframe for support. "I think the spell was based on a fraction of Veritas's power," he said quietly. "It's not strong enough to compel people to tell only the truth the way she did, but it is strong enough to make them say one true thing."
Dean's expression was unreadable. "One true thing."
Sam nodded, the words spilling out of him with as much force as he'd used to push the feelings back for all of these years. "Dean, that year was-God, it was awful and I'd never want to live it again, but there was one good thing about it." He met Dean's eyes, letting the heat he remembered fill his gaze, the way they'd clutched at each other in the dark of a hundred different motel rooms, memorizing taste and touch and feel before the hellhounds could tear it all away. There was a flicker in Dean's green gaze that suggested he was remembering the same things, and it gave Sam the courage to go on. "Then you came back, and you were…different. And I didn't realize it until later, but I was ashamed of being with Ruby. And then you found out about the blood and I thought you didn't want anything else to do with me." His fingers clenched around the doorframe. "Then we were so busy saving the world after I fucked it all up, and then when I came back…" He shrugged.
"When you came back, you were different," Dean said quietly. He took a step forward, into Sam's space. "And maybe I felt guilty for being with Lisa, I don't know. But then I couldn’t even keep your mind in one piece, and then we were so busy saving the world again…." He trailed off.
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Sam swallowed. "I thought you were gone," he said, hearing the tremor in his voice. "So I tried to move on, but I couldn't even do that right."
Dean's voice was more gravelly than before. "Because you never stopped."
Sam nodded mutely.
He froze when Dean reached out to put a hand on his chest, right over his heart. "Even when you didn't have a soul?"
"That wasn't the part of me that wanted," Sam said. When Dean raised an eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. "Because it's not just a physical thing, Dean. It's…it's everything."
It was everything, laid out there on a silver platter for Dean to laugh at or discard or try and explain away like he had the first time they tumbled into bed together, the night after Dean confessed the deal he'd made and Sam's world shattered in a way it never had before but would again, more than once. It was the One Truth, the core of Sam's being for all of these years, the longing and denial and love and despair all in one.
It was Dean grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him down until their mouths crashed together like the waves on the shore.
It was the sudden rush of heat, the way Sam grabbed his brother and held him in place as their kiss slid from frantic into heated and then into something more calming, more right. It was Dean's hands shooting up under his shirts like he had to touch Sam right that very minute, and Sam twisting both flannel shirt and t-shirt off in one quick motion to make it easier for him. It was Dean giving him one long, appreciative look before shoving him back on the bed and stripping his own shirt off before climbing on top of him, and then it was all happening faster than Sam could keep track of.
Dean's hands on his body were an absolution Sam didn't even know he needed, touching him everywhere with the careful thoroughness he devoted to cleaning weapons or fixing the car. When Sam rolled them over and starting making his way down Dean's torso, mouthing at his skin and kissing the lines of scars he didn't recognize, he was granting forgiveness he hadn't realized he needed to give.
When they started thrusting in unison into the tight warmth of their clasped hands, they were on the same ground for the first time in such a very long time. Legs entwined, bodies sweat-slick and hot, they chased their release together and found it within heartbeats of each other. Sam's guttural cry echoed off the walls a second before Dean groaned his name, and they panted the same breaths as the world returned around them.
Later, after Sam got them both washcloths, because he remembered that Dean was prissy enough to demand his own even if it was his brother's come all over his chest, he sat on the edge of the bed and tried to figure out how to phrase the question. To his astonishment, Dean simply tugged him down onto his back and curled up against him, a sinuous line of muscled warmth that was going to make chilly nights in the bunker much more bearable.
Sam had his eyes closed and was slipping down past the first layer of sleep when Dean's voice rumbled in his ear from where his head was pillowed on Sam's chest. "I never stopped, either."
Sam's breath caught. He acknowledged the words with a brief caress of Dean's bare back. There wouldn't be any need to talk it out in the morning, not after that admission. He was proud of Dean for saying it, proud enough to cut him a little slack.
He'd wait at least a full day before asking Dean to wear the pink silk robe again.
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"That wasn't the part of me that wanted," Sam said. When Dean raised an eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. "Because it's not just a physical thing, Dean. It's…it's everything."
and I could pick out so many other lines. but yeah, brilliant writing! ♥!!
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This is amazing. YOU ARE AMAZING.
"That wasn't the part of me that wanted," Sam said. When Dean raised an eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. "Because it's not just a physical thing, Dean. It's…it's everything."
GAH. MY HEART. *rolls around in the bliss*
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"That wasn't the part of me that wanted," Sam said. When Dean raised an eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. "Because it's not just a physical thing, Dean. It's…it's everything."
and want to read this:
He'd wait at least a full day before asking Dean to wear the pink silk robe again.
yes yes? *puppy eyes*
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Hee! That would be something to see, wouldn't it? ;)
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*hint hint*
*cough!sequel!cough*
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