Fic: Little Brothers Know Best (Supernatural, teen)
Title: Little Brothers Know Best
Fandom: Supernatural
Relationships: Gen
Characters: Sam, Cas, Dean
Warning: language, threat, suffocation, close calls
Word count: 1190
A/note: Written for an SPN Kink Meme prompt, in turn inspired by the movie, The Apparition. Neither it nor SPN are mine.
Summary: Sam draws the line at sleeping in dead man's sheets, no matter if they're laundered or not. Dean is less picky, and almost pays for it.
Sam coughed as Dean slapped the bedsheets down on the table in front of him. He waved a hand through the dust that billowed up, and fixed his brother with a glare.
“No,” he said. “No way.”
Dean shoved the sheets a few inches closer; Sam shifted his chair back by the same distance.
“Really?” Dean said. “You woke up one night in a motel and there were roaches in the bed, Sam. You’re freaking over some old sheets?”
Sam stood up and grabbed the book he’d been reading. “You might be comfy wearing a dead guy’s robe, so I guess it figures you’d be comfy sleeping in dead guy’s sheets. I’m not, and besides - those things are filthy.”
“We’ve got an industrial laundry in here, you know.”
“And they’ll still be the bedding of a dead guy, Dean.”
He retreated, aware that Dean would never back down on anything where the bunker was concerned.
“He didn’t die on them,” Dean called after him. Then, because he couldn’t help but go after the last word, “and you’re sleeping in a dead guy’s bed, too, Sammy.”
Sam growled under his breath. That he’d chosen to ignore - their budget had stood him buying some new bedding, which helped him forget that his room’s previous occupant was deceased and through brutal circumstances.
He’d still ignore it. If Dean was happy wrapped in sheets he’d dredged up who knew where, then whatever.
As long as he kept them in his room and out of Sam’s.
**
Cas came home a couple of hours later, exhausted but grateful to be back. Sam hugged him at the bottom of the steps and went to grab some coffee for them both. Dean, who always seemed to have a sixth sense about when Cas had returned to them, appeared and after some minutes reassuring himself the angel hadn’t run into trouble, and wasn’t hiding any injuries, settled down with them at the table.
Kelly Kline was still in the wind, every possible trace of her ending up in a dead end. Sometimes literally. Dagon was very good at covering their tracks, and the body count was rising. Neither of them would admit it to Cas, that though they knew Kelly had to be located, they were both relieved he hadn’t found the woman or her demonic ‘guardian’.
It had taken three of them and Michael’s lance to kill Ramiel. The lance was gone, now, sacrificed to save Cas - a choice they’d make again in a heartbeat - but that meant that when they did catch up to Dagon they would have nothing to use against her. Two hunters and an angel probably wouldn’t even make her flinch.
But that was a problem for tomorrow. Cas was done in, and the brothers’ last hunt had taken a toll on them as well. Sam loaned Cas something to sleep in - even if really all Cas did was rest in his room, it was easier to do so wearing sweats and a tee shirt rather than the suit and trench coat he wore during the day - and then sat up with Dean for a while after the angel turned in.
They spoke little, enjoying the rare peace and security that came from all three of them being home, and ok, at least for now.
Sam had learned to take such moments when they came, because they seldom seemed to last.
**
Something woke him. It was sudden, and inexplicable - an instinct that dragged him from his sleep and left him panting and uneasy in the room. But there was nothing there - just shadows, and the low gleam of the night lights that ran at intervals along the corridor.
If something was wrong, he or Dean would have sensed it before now. The bunker’s alarm system would have reacted. And Cas… Cas was home. Nothing snuck up on their guardian angel.
But all the same, the feeling of something being off wouldn’t leave him. He got up, shivering at the cold floor beneath his feet, and stepped out into the hall.
Cas almost knocked him over, moving fast enough at the last second to catch Sam and keep him on his feet. But he didn’t stop, and Sam felt something cold and deadening settle in his chest.
Cas was running to Dean’s room, and that was when Sam heard it. Muffled, but he knew his brother’s voice, and he knew what a scream sounded like and then he was running too.
By the time he burst in, Cas was on Dean’s bed and it took Sam a moment to catch up, to see and believe what was actually happening.
Dean’s beside lamp was on, thankfully, but though that showed clearly the battle Cas was fighting, it didn’t help Sam understand it.
Dean was hidden, his body covered by the wide cream sheets he’d dumped in front of Sam earlier. Not just hidden - he was almost shrink wrapped by them, the fabric moulded to every inch of his body.
Including his face.
Holy fuck.
Sam leapt onto the bed, and dug his fingers into the bedding. Cas was tearing at it, and Sam could feel the malevolence fighting back. It had to be a powerful curse to be resisting an angel, but Cas was fierce in his determination to free Dean.
Before he suffocated. How long had Dean been trapped and struggling? Cas had probably heard his cries immediately, or felt the curse kick in. Even so they probably had a minute, tops, and the sheet wasn’t giving!
Cas snarled, and then the fabric rent under his strength. The opening helped Sam. He grabbed a section and tore at it, pulling back now that Cas had broken through. Dean was arched off the bed, writhing and desperate, moaning as he tried to break free. Finally, Cas was able to tear the sheet enough that he could reach in and yank Dean from under it. Sam fought as hard as he could, expanding the tear until it was large enough for Cas to pull Dean free.
With Dean locked tight against him with one arm, Cas grabbed Sam with his other hand and scrabbled back, putting distance between them and the bed. He shoved Dean at Sam, who locked his arms around his brother and held him up. Dean was shaking, breaths coming in deep gulps.
“Ok, it’s ok,” Sam said. He rubbed circles on Dean’s back, trying to calm him. “You’re safe, I’ve got you.”
“Cas,” Dean protested. But the angel ignored him and tore the remnants of the sheets free from the bed and tossed them to the floor. One single flare of Grace incinerated them, leaving the smell of burning to slowly waft through the corridors.
Cas sagged as he stumbled back, and turned to stare at them. He looked as shaken as Sam was sure they did.
“Next time,” Sam said, his own breathing none too steady, “I tell you to leave shit alone in this place, please just do it.”
Dean was still slumped against him, so Sam felt his brother’s nod. “Dead man’s sheets,” he mumbled. “Who fucking knew.”
Fandom: Supernatural
Relationships: Gen
Characters: Sam, Cas, Dean
Warning: language, threat, suffocation, close calls
Word count: 1190
A/note: Written for an SPN Kink Meme prompt, in turn inspired by the movie, The Apparition. Neither it nor SPN are mine.
Summary: Sam draws the line at sleeping in dead man's sheets, no matter if they're laundered or not. Dean is less picky, and almost pays for it.
Sam coughed as Dean slapped the bedsheets down on the table in front of him. He waved a hand through the dust that billowed up, and fixed his brother with a glare.
“No,” he said. “No way.”
Dean shoved the sheets a few inches closer; Sam shifted his chair back by the same distance.
“Really?” Dean said. “You woke up one night in a motel and there were roaches in the bed, Sam. You’re freaking over some old sheets?”
Sam stood up and grabbed the book he’d been reading. “You might be comfy wearing a dead guy’s robe, so I guess it figures you’d be comfy sleeping in dead guy’s sheets. I’m not, and besides - those things are filthy.”
“We’ve got an industrial laundry in here, you know.”
“And they’ll still be the bedding of a dead guy, Dean.”
He retreated, aware that Dean would never back down on anything where the bunker was concerned.
“He didn’t die on them,” Dean called after him. Then, because he couldn’t help but go after the last word, “and you’re sleeping in a dead guy’s bed, too, Sammy.”
Sam growled under his breath. That he’d chosen to ignore - their budget had stood him buying some new bedding, which helped him forget that his room’s previous occupant was deceased and through brutal circumstances.
He’d still ignore it. If Dean was happy wrapped in sheets he’d dredged up who knew where, then whatever.
As long as he kept them in his room and out of Sam’s.
**
Cas came home a couple of hours later, exhausted but grateful to be back. Sam hugged him at the bottom of the steps and went to grab some coffee for them both. Dean, who always seemed to have a sixth sense about when Cas had returned to them, appeared and after some minutes reassuring himself the angel hadn’t run into trouble, and wasn’t hiding any injuries, settled down with them at the table.
Kelly Kline was still in the wind, every possible trace of her ending up in a dead end. Sometimes literally. Dagon was very good at covering their tracks, and the body count was rising. Neither of them would admit it to Cas, that though they knew Kelly had to be located, they were both relieved he hadn’t found the woman or her demonic ‘guardian’.
It had taken three of them and Michael’s lance to kill Ramiel. The lance was gone, now, sacrificed to save Cas - a choice they’d make again in a heartbeat - but that meant that when they did catch up to Dagon they would have nothing to use against her. Two hunters and an angel probably wouldn’t even make her flinch.
But that was a problem for tomorrow. Cas was done in, and the brothers’ last hunt had taken a toll on them as well. Sam loaned Cas something to sleep in - even if really all Cas did was rest in his room, it was easier to do so wearing sweats and a tee shirt rather than the suit and trench coat he wore during the day - and then sat up with Dean for a while after the angel turned in.
They spoke little, enjoying the rare peace and security that came from all three of them being home, and ok, at least for now.
Sam had learned to take such moments when they came, because they seldom seemed to last.
**
Something woke him. It was sudden, and inexplicable - an instinct that dragged him from his sleep and left him panting and uneasy in the room. But there was nothing there - just shadows, and the low gleam of the night lights that ran at intervals along the corridor.
If something was wrong, he or Dean would have sensed it before now. The bunker’s alarm system would have reacted. And Cas… Cas was home. Nothing snuck up on their guardian angel.
But all the same, the feeling of something being off wouldn’t leave him. He got up, shivering at the cold floor beneath his feet, and stepped out into the hall.
Cas almost knocked him over, moving fast enough at the last second to catch Sam and keep him on his feet. But he didn’t stop, and Sam felt something cold and deadening settle in his chest.
Cas was running to Dean’s room, and that was when Sam heard it. Muffled, but he knew his brother’s voice, and he knew what a scream sounded like and then he was running too.
By the time he burst in, Cas was on Dean’s bed and it took Sam a moment to catch up, to see and believe what was actually happening.
Dean’s beside lamp was on, thankfully, but though that showed clearly the battle Cas was fighting, it didn’t help Sam understand it.
Dean was hidden, his body covered by the wide cream sheets he’d dumped in front of Sam earlier. Not just hidden - he was almost shrink wrapped by them, the fabric moulded to every inch of his body.
Including his face.
Holy fuck.
Sam leapt onto the bed, and dug his fingers into the bedding. Cas was tearing at it, and Sam could feel the malevolence fighting back. It had to be a powerful curse to be resisting an angel, but Cas was fierce in his determination to free Dean.
Before he suffocated. How long had Dean been trapped and struggling? Cas had probably heard his cries immediately, or felt the curse kick in. Even so they probably had a minute, tops, and the sheet wasn’t giving!
Cas snarled, and then the fabric rent under his strength. The opening helped Sam. He grabbed a section and tore at it, pulling back now that Cas had broken through. Dean was arched off the bed, writhing and desperate, moaning as he tried to break free. Finally, Cas was able to tear the sheet enough that he could reach in and yank Dean from under it. Sam fought as hard as he could, expanding the tear until it was large enough for Cas to pull Dean free.
With Dean locked tight against him with one arm, Cas grabbed Sam with his other hand and scrabbled back, putting distance between them and the bed. He shoved Dean at Sam, who locked his arms around his brother and held him up. Dean was shaking, breaths coming in deep gulps.
“Ok, it’s ok,” Sam said. He rubbed circles on Dean’s back, trying to calm him. “You’re safe, I’ve got you.”
“Cas,” Dean protested. But the angel ignored him and tore the remnants of the sheets free from the bed and tossed them to the floor. One single flare of Grace incinerated them, leaving the smell of burning to slowly waft through the corridors.
Cas sagged as he stumbled back, and turned to stare at them. He looked as shaken as Sam was sure they did.
“Next time,” Sam said, his own breathing none too steady, “I tell you to leave shit alone in this place, please just do it.”
Dean was still slumped against him, so Sam felt his brother’s nod. “Dead man’s sheets,” he mumbled. “Who fucking knew.”