Supernatural fic - "Walk With You In Dreams" (Part One)
Title: Walk With You In Dreams
Author: MissAnnThropic
Spoilers: What Is and What Should Never Be
LiveJournal: miss_annthropic
Summary: The djinn is dead, but Dean did not leave behind the djinn's world entirely. Dean/Carmen.
Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching DVDs of her favorite shows :(
Author's Note: I make no excuses for "What Is and What Should Never Be" being my favorite Supernatural episode. Mostly because of Dean/Carmen. I loved them together so much, so this fic was just waiting for me to write it.
*************************
He remembers things that didn't happen. Granted, it was all a djinn-induced hallucination, so none of it was actually real, but he came out of it with vivid memories of the too-few days in that other world. He made a decision to cherish them. They weren't real and he knew that, but real life gave the Winchesters so little joy. Too few good memories. Dean was going to seize them where he could, even if they were imaginary. Two beautiful days in another life where guns didn't fill the Impala's trunk to the brim.
But as time goes by, he remembers more.
He doesn't know where the memories that aren't memories are coming from. They accumulate in his sleep at first, unfolding in dreams that are so much beyond dreams. He wakes up and he could swear he's in his apartment, Carmen lying supple and his beside him.
He doesn't tell Sam. Part of him is worried Sam will find a solution or cure, and Dean isn't sure he wants that other life to disappear.
He begins to look forward to sleep, where he can be another person. Where he can live another life.
*************************
"I'm telling you, Carmen, she was gorgeous," Dean gushed, absolutely and thoroughly smitten.
Carmen smiled softly at him, letting him talk, and trailed her hand across the width of his shoulders as she moved past the table into the kitchen.
Dean grinned, turning the chair he was sitting in to face her as she put her dirty dinner plate in the sink. "And lines… this baby had such a fine body. Telling you, work. of. art."
Carmen chuckled and turned to face him, leaning back against the counter as she leveled a look at him. Her expression looked stern and sincere, but from across the kitchen Dean could see the playful light in her eyes that dispelled all his worries that he might actually be in trouble. "Dean…" Carmen began evenly, "I can handle sharing you with the Impala, but if you're going to turn into a car-slut on me for every muscle car that comes along…"
"You don't have to worry about that!" Dean proclaimed, almost indignantly. "You know there's only one car for me."
Carmen rolled her eyes and came to fetch his plate and put it in the sink, though Dean cleaned them so well they could practically go back in the cupboard unwashed. "Your loyalty to your car is really touching," Carmen teased as she reached the table. "Brings a tear to my eye."
When Carmen reached for his empty plate, Dean caught her wrist and tugged her into him. Carmen lost her balance, and Dean so considerately caught her up in his lap.
Carmen laughed and wiggled to face him. "Very smooth, Winchester."
Dean smiled up at her. "I try. Is it working?"
"Well… let me think." Carmen seemed deep in thought then rearranged herself on the chair until she settled down on his lap, straddling him sweet and fantastic, for a second all long legs and warm thighs. Dean's brain lost several evolutionary milestones.
Carmen wrapped her arms around Dean's neck, leaned down, and kissed him.
Before Dean could reciprocate, Carmen pulled her mouth away and asked, "What kind of car was it again?"
"Huh?"
Carmen licked her lips very deliberately. "The one you were fawning over in the garage today? What kind of car was it?"
Dean tried to remember, he really did. "Car?"
Carmen broke into a self-satisfied grin. "Mmmm… good answer," she purred, then kissed him again. And kept kissing him.
Dean kissed her back, tongue sweeping into her mouth. She tasted like spaghetti, and given Dean's predilection for food, he liked the combination. Carmen and Italian. He tangled one hand in her black hair, the other curling around her back to pull her closer.
Carmen pressed into him, gasped against his mouth as his damn near acrobatic tongue teased hers, then her hands dropped between them and made deft work of his fly. She slipped one expert hand inside and wrapped her fingers around him. Dean groaned and clutched her tighter. He was already getting hard, and her touch was like a jolt of electricity up his spine.
Carmen rocked her body, suggested a rhythm they had perfected in bed, and her lithe hand stroked in tandem, holding him just right. Just the way he liked it. She knew him so fucking well. It was almost scary how little she had to do to drive him wild. For Carmen, it was almost instinct by now. Her body spoke Dean Winchester.
Dean moved from kissing her on the mouth to suckling on her neck, his face buried in her dark curtain of hair. Her shampoo had a vanilla scent to it that settled warm and adored in his chest every time he breathed.
Carmen tilted her head to give him her neck. Her hand never stopped working the length of him.
Dean's hand left her hair and crawled up her shirt, cupping over a perfect breast. She leaned into his touch.
Carmen was drawing him closer to ecstasy, coaxing him with every inch of her being.
Dean would really rather not come all over himself at the kitchen table. Two options… make her stop long enough to get them to the bedroom, or make sure it happened inside.
The bedroom seemed very far away.
Dean's hands went to Carmen's fly, working open her jeans and worming one hand inside. It was very clear what he was after. Carmen gasped when his hand touched her. She writhed against his expert fingers, then she let go of him and moved off the chair to stand.
Dean was pulling at her pants immediately, eager for her to touch him again. Even more ready to be inside her.
Carmen took her shirt off while her hands were free, and her bra was quick work after that. By then Dean had dropped her pants and panties, and she stepped out of them almost daintily.
For a heartbeat he just looked at her, naked and beautiful and his.
Then Dean's hands were on her hips, tugging at her insistently, desperate to bring her back to him.
Carmen went with a giggle, glorious sweeps of naked skin and dark hair. She straddled him again, pulled off his shirt, moved to settle him just right inside her…
*************************
Dean woke without reason and lay in bed practically panting. The motel room was dark, and Sam was fast asleep in the second bed. A passing car threw a creeping pattern of bars along the walls of the room. The air conditioner was a dull background noise to the sound of Dean's own heartbeat.
Dean stared up at the ceiling in a daze, mind still mired in his dreamscape. His body was still there, too. He was rigid, at full attention, just where Carmen had brought him before it was snatched away.
He had to take a second and comprehend she wasn't there, wouldn't finish what she'd started. He wanted to groan at the cruelty of waking when he did. Just a little bit longer, that's all they needed…
More than the tightness of his dick, there was a hollow ache in his chest. Every time he woke, it was to the thought 'no… I wanted to stay'. In that other life, that other world.
But he was awake, in his own shitty life, and he had to deal with that.
Dean sighed, shifted on the mattress, and angled his hips away from his brother. He reached down and took himself in hand. He hated for a second that the hand wasn't hers, detested the size and calloused texture. He drew down the front of his boxers, freed his dick, and began to jerk off.
He thought of Carmen, imagined her doing it instead of him. She would do it almost the same, just like he liked it. Not too rough, not too easy. Dean had never been with a woman long enough for her to really learn to know him, what he liked. Sex with someone new all the time was awesome, like trying every flavor of ice cream at Baskin Robins, but there was a different gratification from whacking off because Dean knew just how to touch and stroke.
Carmen knew, too.
He came to the thought of her calling his name. He knew precisely what she would look like, head thrown back, mouth open, eyes closed, skin shiny with sweat. It made him feel great.
The pleasure of release only lasted a few seconds, then he was shoving the sheets and the sticky mess to the side in disgust, put himself back in his underwear, and rolled over to crowd the other side of the bed. Sam slept on, blissfully unaware. Maybe he was dreaming of Jess.
Dean crammed the pillow up under his head and scowled into the darkness as he tried to get back to sleep.
He wanted to go back.
He missed her.
Part Two
Author: MissAnnThropic
Spoilers: What Is and What Should Never Be
LiveJournal: miss_annthropic
Summary: The djinn is dead, but Dean did not leave behind the djinn's world entirely. Dean/Carmen.
Disclaimer: None of it's mine. I'm just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching DVDs of her favorite shows :(
Author's Note: I make no excuses for "What Is and What Should Never Be" being my favorite Supernatural episode. Mostly because of Dean/Carmen. I loved them together so much, so this fic was just waiting for me to write it.
*************************
He remembers things that didn't happen. Granted, it was all a djinn-induced hallucination, so none of it was actually real, but he came out of it with vivid memories of the too-few days in that other world. He made a decision to cherish them. They weren't real and he knew that, but real life gave the Winchesters so little joy. Too few good memories. Dean was going to seize them where he could, even if they were imaginary. Two beautiful days in another life where guns didn't fill the Impala's trunk to the brim.
But as time goes by, he remembers more.
He doesn't know where the memories that aren't memories are coming from. They accumulate in his sleep at first, unfolding in dreams that are so much beyond dreams. He wakes up and he could swear he's in his apartment, Carmen lying supple and his beside him.
He doesn't tell Sam. Part of him is worried Sam will find a solution or cure, and Dean isn't sure he wants that other life to disappear.
He begins to look forward to sleep, where he can be another person. Where he can live another life.
*************************
"I'm telling you, Carmen, she was gorgeous," Dean gushed, absolutely and thoroughly smitten.
Carmen smiled softly at him, letting him talk, and trailed her hand across the width of his shoulders as she moved past the table into the kitchen.
Dean grinned, turning the chair he was sitting in to face her as she put her dirty dinner plate in the sink. "And lines… this baby had such a fine body. Telling you, work. of. art."
Carmen chuckled and turned to face him, leaning back against the counter as she leveled a look at him. Her expression looked stern and sincere, but from across the kitchen Dean could see the playful light in her eyes that dispelled all his worries that he might actually be in trouble. "Dean…" Carmen began evenly, "I can handle sharing you with the Impala, but if you're going to turn into a car-slut on me for every muscle car that comes along…"
"You don't have to worry about that!" Dean proclaimed, almost indignantly. "You know there's only one car for me."
Carmen rolled her eyes and came to fetch his plate and put it in the sink, though Dean cleaned them so well they could practically go back in the cupboard unwashed. "Your loyalty to your car is really touching," Carmen teased as she reached the table. "Brings a tear to my eye."
When Carmen reached for his empty plate, Dean caught her wrist and tugged her into him. Carmen lost her balance, and Dean so considerately caught her up in his lap.
Carmen laughed and wiggled to face him. "Very smooth, Winchester."
Dean smiled up at her. "I try. Is it working?"
"Well… let me think." Carmen seemed deep in thought then rearranged herself on the chair until she settled down on his lap, straddling him sweet and fantastic, for a second all long legs and warm thighs. Dean's brain lost several evolutionary milestones.
Carmen wrapped her arms around Dean's neck, leaned down, and kissed him.
Before Dean could reciprocate, Carmen pulled her mouth away and asked, "What kind of car was it again?"
"Huh?"
Carmen licked her lips very deliberately. "The one you were fawning over in the garage today? What kind of car was it?"
Dean tried to remember, he really did. "Car?"
Carmen broke into a self-satisfied grin. "Mmmm… good answer," she purred, then kissed him again. And kept kissing him.
Dean kissed her back, tongue sweeping into her mouth. She tasted like spaghetti, and given Dean's predilection for food, he liked the combination. Carmen and Italian. He tangled one hand in her black hair, the other curling around her back to pull her closer.
Carmen pressed into him, gasped against his mouth as his damn near acrobatic tongue teased hers, then her hands dropped between them and made deft work of his fly. She slipped one expert hand inside and wrapped her fingers around him. Dean groaned and clutched her tighter. He was already getting hard, and her touch was like a jolt of electricity up his spine.
Carmen rocked her body, suggested a rhythm they had perfected in bed, and her lithe hand stroked in tandem, holding him just right. Just the way he liked it. She knew him so fucking well. It was almost scary how little she had to do to drive him wild. For Carmen, it was almost instinct by now. Her body spoke Dean Winchester.
Dean moved from kissing her on the mouth to suckling on her neck, his face buried in her dark curtain of hair. Her shampoo had a vanilla scent to it that settled warm and adored in his chest every time he breathed.
Carmen tilted her head to give him her neck. Her hand never stopped working the length of him.
Dean's hand left her hair and crawled up her shirt, cupping over a perfect breast. She leaned into his touch.
Carmen was drawing him closer to ecstasy, coaxing him with every inch of her being.
Dean would really rather not come all over himself at the kitchen table. Two options… make her stop long enough to get them to the bedroom, or make sure it happened inside.
The bedroom seemed very far away.
Dean's hands went to Carmen's fly, working open her jeans and worming one hand inside. It was very clear what he was after. Carmen gasped when his hand touched her. She writhed against his expert fingers, then she let go of him and moved off the chair to stand.
Dean was pulling at her pants immediately, eager for her to touch him again. Even more ready to be inside her.
Carmen took her shirt off while her hands were free, and her bra was quick work after that. By then Dean had dropped her pants and panties, and she stepped out of them almost daintily.
For a heartbeat he just looked at her, naked and beautiful and his.
Then Dean's hands were on her hips, tugging at her insistently, desperate to bring her back to him.
Carmen went with a giggle, glorious sweeps of naked skin and dark hair. She straddled him again, pulled off his shirt, moved to settle him just right inside her…
*************************
Dean woke without reason and lay in bed practically panting. The motel room was dark, and Sam was fast asleep in the second bed. A passing car threw a creeping pattern of bars along the walls of the room. The air conditioner was a dull background noise to the sound of Dean's own heartbeat.
Dean stared up at the ceiling in a daze, mind still mired in his dreamscape. His body was still there, too. He was rigid, at full attention, just where Carmen had brought him before it was snatched away.
He had to take a second and comprehend she wasn't there, wouldn't finish what she'd started. He wanted to groan at the cruelty of waking when he did. Just a little bit longer, that's all they needed…
More than the tightness of his dick, there was a hollow ache in his chest. Every time he woke, it was to the thought 'no… I wanted to stay'. In that other life, that other world.
But he was awake, in his own shitty life, and he had to deal with that.
Dean sighed, shifted on the mattress, and angled his hips away from his brother. He reached down and took himself in hand. He hated for a second that the hand wasn't hers, detested the size and calloused texture. He drew down the front of his boxers, freed his dick, and began to jerk off.
He thought of Carmen, imagined her doing it instead of him. She would do it almost the same, just like he liked it. Not too rough, not too easy. Dean had never been with a woman long enough for her to really learn to know him, what he liked. Sex with someone new all the time was awesome, like trying every flavor of ice cream at Baskin Robins, but there was a different gratification from whacking off because Dean knew just how to touch and stroke.
Carmen knew, too.
He came to the thought of her calling his name. He knew precisely what she would look like, head thrown back, mouth open, eyes closed, skin shiny with sweat. It made him feel great.
The pleasure of release only lasted a few seconds, then he was shoving the sheets and the sticky mess to the side in disgust, put himself back in his underwear, and rolled over to crowd the other side of the bed. Sam slept on, blissfully unaware. Maybe he was dreaming of Jess.
Dean crammed the pillow up under his head and scowled into the darkness as he tried to get back to sleep.
He wanted to go back.
He missed her.
Part Two