Supernatural FanFiction: Truths Spoken in Anger, Chapter 4
Author: HalfshellVenus
Category: Sam/Dean (Slash)
Rating: R
Spoilers: Skin (but mostly AU)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were.
Archive: Ask first
x-x-x-x-x Chapter 4: To The Victor Go The Spoils x-x-x-x-x
The brush of lips across his cheek brought Dean around again, like light filtering through fog. His eyes drifted open. Sam’s head was pillowed next to his own, and his smile was gentle.
“Are you back now?” Sam’s fingers brushed Dean’s cheek.
Dean leaned his head into Sam’s, surrounding him with his arms and holding him in quiet happiness. His fingers slid up to stroke through Sam’s hair and Dean kissed his forehead with unguarded tenderness.
“Does that happen often?” Sam asked.
“What?” Dean’s voice was low and lazy.
“That fading-out thing. Is that a regular event?”
Dean chuckled, shaking his head.
“Well damn,” Sam said. “I’m good.” He nuzzled in closer, mouth on Dean’s neck.
The hand on his head stilled Sam, and he glanced up.
Dean looked uncertain. “Do we need to talk about this?” he said softly.
“Not unless you regret it,” said Sam.
“Oh,” Dean said. “Well in that case, I’ve got nothing to say.”
“Thank god. I’ve got plans for that mouth.”
They kissed languidly for awhile, exploring this new method of speaking without words. After awhile, the room cooled and Sam began to shiver.
“Think I better get some clothes on.” Sam pulled himself up and cast about for something to wear.
“Wasn’t complaining.” Dean’s gaze swept up and down that loose-limbed body, and Sam heaved a pillow at him in response.
“You’re such a perv,” Sam grinned, pulling on a shirt and jeans.
“And you love every minute of it.”
Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes while Sam put his shoes on. He knew what was coming next.
“You know we have to go back,” Sam said quietly. “Finish the job.”
“Yeah, I know.” Part of him wanted to hunt down and torch the fucker for what he’d done to Sam, and the other part just wanted to get them both as far away from here as possible.
“Just give me a little head start.” Sam had his jacket on and a pistol shoved in his back pocket. “I’m going to lure him out.”
Dean felt a chill slip under his stomach, but he just nodded. He packed a gun with hollow-point bullets and another with rock salt as backup. He approached Sam cautiously, but Sam hugged him without reservation.
“Take it slow,” Dean warned him, running his hand down the side of Sam’s face.
Sam kissed him one last time in response. “Don’t be late,” he said. And then he was gone.
It was at Rebecca’s house where Sam found the Shapeshifter again, and he braced himself for the inevitable assault.
A few blows to the stomach later, Sam was on the ground with Dean’s face looming over him. “Back so soon?” the creature taunted. “Just can’t resist that brotherly love, can you? Too bad your brother’s too chicken to ask for what he wants. Could have saved you both some lonely nights on the road all those years ago.” He head-butted Sam, and then ran his tongue over Sam’s lips.
“Dean wouldn’t put me in that position,” Sam said, turning his head away.
“He’d put you in any position he could get you in, preferably down on your knees or bent over a table. Your brother is not that noble, Sam. He’d fuck anything that’d caught his eye.”
Sam struggled underneath the weight of that insinuating body that was thrusting up against him now. “You don’t know shit about Dean,” he said.
The Shapeshifter sat up and pulled his arm back for a nose-breaking punch. Sam saw the burst of red coming through the creature’s chest even before he heard the gunshot, and he shoved the Shapeshifter off to the side and backed out from underneath it.
Dean lowered the gun, his tortured eyes catching Sam’s as he moved forward to reassure him. Becca appeared then, fawning all over Sam, and Dean gritted his teeth.
Now just back up, bitch, he thought, wanting to be the one holding Sam instead. But Sam sat there in a daze and let her fall on him, crying and clinging. Dean turned away, unable to watch it, and the sight of his own body confronted him. It filled him with a sense of foreboding, and suddenly he just wanted to get the hell out.
************
They were back on the road later that night, and Sam had been quiet much too long. He was bruised, he’d left a friend behind again… and he’d seen what Dean would look like if anything they hunted ever got the better of them.
Dean could feel all of that and more floating morbidly through the car. He tried to force a little conversation, even throw in a little humor. Anything to get that stricken look off of Sam’s face.
“Too bad we had to leave so soon,” he said, and Sam’s eyes flitted over his way. Dean made his voice as deadpan as possible. “It’s my only chance to attend my own funeral…I hate to miss it.”
The joke was met with silence, and Sam’s glare showed what a mistake that had been.
“Sorry,” Dean said.
The mood in the car was even worse now than before. Dean let it be this time, keeping his eyes on the road while lost in his own thoughts. 19.2 miles later he pulled out an Aerosmith tape, waving it at Sam in question. Sam motioned him on, and he put the tape in, hands tapping on the steering wheel for the remainder of Side B.
There were a few minutes of silence afterward before Sam finally said something.
"You know, some of the things he said…" Sam began, "You can be such a dick sometimes."
Dean was incredulous. "He said them! Not me. I didn't say any of it!"
"But you know you're thinking stuff like that half the time," Sam persisted.
"Maybe some of it I might be thinking, but not all of it. And I still didn't say it."
Sam looked thoughtful. "I always used to think there was absolutely no filter between your brain and your mouth, but I must have been wrong. Now that I've seen how bad it could actually get."
Dean's eyes slid over, and Sam's smile was three parts evil and five parts fun.
He relaxed a little. "You just like yanking my chain, don't you?"
There was a wicked sparkle in Sam's eyes then, and his smile grew bigger. "Is that an invitation?"
Dean's brain stopped working for about two seconds, and then he stepped on the gas. There was a turnoff up ahead, and a grove of trees down off the side road it led to.
He glanced over at Sam, car bouncing up the offramp.
"Absolutely."
And then they both knew that it was going to be all right.
--------- fin ---------
Category: Sam/Dean (Slash)
Rating: R
Spoilers: Skin (but mostly AU)
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were.
Archive: Ask first
x-x-x-x-x Chapter 4: To The Victor Go The Spoils x-x-x-x-x
The brush of lips across his cheek brought Dean around again, like light filtering through fog. His eyes drifted open. Sam’s head was pillowed next to his own, and his smile was gentle.
“Are you back now?” Sam’s fingers brushed Dean’s cheek.
Dean leaned his head into Sam’s, surrounding him with his arms and holding him in quiet happiness. His fingers slid up to stroke through Sam’s hair and Dean kissed his forehead with unguarded tenderness.
“Does that happen often?” Sam asked.
“What?” Dean’s voice was low and lazy.
“That fading-out thing. Is that a regular event?”
Dean chuckled, shaking his head.
“Well damn,” Sam said. “I’m good.” He nuzzled in closer, mouth on Dean’s neck.
The hand on his head stilled Sam, and he glanced up.
Dean looked uncertain. “Do we need to talk about this?” he said softly.
“Not unless you regret it,” said Sam.
“Oh,” Dean said. “Well in that case, I’ve got nothing to say.”
“Thank god. I’ve got plans for that mouth.”
They kissed languidly for awhile, exploring this new method of speaking without words. After awhile, the room cooled and Sam began to shiver.
“Think I better get some clothes on.” Sam pulled himself up and cast about for something to wear.
“Wasn’t complaining.” Dean’s gaze swept up and down that loose-limbed body, and Sam heaved a pillow at him in response.
“You’re such a perv,” Sam grinned, pulling on a shirt and jeans.
“And you love every minute of it.”
Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes while Sam put his shoes on. He knew what was coming next.
“You know we have to go back,” Sam said quietly. “Finish the job.”
“Yeah, I know.” Part of him wanted to hunt down and torch the fucker for what he’d done to Sam, and the other part just wanted to get them both as far away from here as possible.
“Just give me a little head start.” Sam had his jacket on and a pistol shoved in his back pocket. “I’m going to lure him out.”
Dean felt a chill slip under his stomach, but he just nodded. He packed a gun with hollow-point bullets and another with rock salt as backup. He approached Sam cautiously, but Sam hugged him without reservation.
“Take it slow,” Dean warned him, running his hand down the side of Sam’s face.
Sam kissed him one last time in response. “Don’t be late,” he said. And then he was gone.
It was at Rebecca’s house where Sam found the Shapeshifter again, and he braced himself for the inevitable assault.
A few blows to the stomach later, Sam was on the ground with Dean’s face looming over him. “Back so soon?” the creature taunted. “Just can’t resist that brotherly love, can you? Too bad your brother’s too chicken to ask for what he wants. Could have saved you both some lonely nights on the road all those years ago.” He head-butted Sam, and then ran his tongue over Sam’s lips.
“Dean wouldn’t put me in that position,” Sam said, turning his head away.
“He’d put you in any position he could get you in, preferably down on your knees or bent over a table. Your brother is not that noble, Sam. He’d fuck anything that’d caught his eye.”
Sam struggled underneath the weight of that insinuating body that was thrusting up against him now. “You don’t know shit about Dean,” he said.
The Shapeshifter sat up and pulled his arm back for a nose-breaking punch. Sam saw the burst of red coming through the creature’s chest even before he heard the gunshot, and he shoved the Shapeshifter off to the side and backed out from underneath it.
Dean lowered the gun, his tortured eyes catching Sam’s as he moved forward to reassure him. Becca appeared then, fawning all over Sam, and Dean gritted his teeth.
Now just back up, bitch, he thought, wanting to be the one holding Sam instead. But Sam sat there in a daze and let her fall on him, crying and clinging. Dean turned away, unable to watch it, and the sight of his own body confronted him. It filled him with a sense of foreboding, and suddenly he just wanted to get the hell out.
************
They were back on the road later that night, and Sam had been quiet much too long. He was bruised, he’d left a friend behind again… and he’d seen what Dean would look like if anything they hunted ever got the better of them.
Dean could feel all of that and more floating morbidly through the car. He tried to force a little conversation, even throw in a little humor. Anything to get that stricken look off of Sam’s face.
“Too bad we had to leave so soon,” he said, and Sam’s eyes flitted over his way. Dean made his voice as deadpan as possible. “It’s my only chance to attend my own funeral…I hate to miss it.”
The joke was met with silence, and Sam’s glare showed what a mistake that had been.
“Sorry,” Dean said.
The mood in the car was even worse now than before. Dean let it be this time, keeping his eyes on the road while lost in his own thoughts. 19.2 miles later he pulled out an Aerosmith tape, waving it at Sam in question. Sam motioned him on, and he put the tape in, hands tapping on the steering wheel for the remainder of Side B.
There were a few minutes of silence afterward before Sam finally said something.
"You know, some of the things he said…" Sam began, "You can be such a dick sometimes."
Dean was incredulous. "He said them! Not me. I didn't say any of it!"
"But you know you're thinking stuff like that half the time," Sam persisted.
"Maybe some of it I might be thinking, but not all of it. And I still didn't say it."
Sam looked thoughtful. "I always used to think there was absolutely no filter between your brain and your mouth, but I must have been wrong. Now that I've seen how bad it could actually get."
Dean's eyes slid over, and Sam's smile was three parts evil and five parts fun.
He relaxed a little. "You just like yanking my chain, don't you?"
There was a wicked sparkle in Sam's eyes then, and his smile grew bigger. "Is that an invitation?"
Dean's brain stopped working for about two seconds, and then he stepped on the gas. There was a turnoff up ahead, and a grove of trees down off the side road it led to.
He glanced over at Sam, car bouncing up the offramp.
"Absolutely."
And then they both knew that it was going to be all right.
--------- fin ---------