Fic: Oh, but the Fire Went Wild
Title: Oh, but the Fire Went Wild
Author: mummyluvr314
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dean/Nick
Summary: A note to all new homeowners: when you buy a house, make sure you have things to put in it.
A/N: Ninth part of my schmoop_bingo ‘verse for the “candles” square. Title is from “Ring of Fire” - the Adam Lambert version (which you should all check out if you haven’t heard it yet).
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. *Tear*
Previous Chapters: In the handy dandy Master Post!
The apartment seemed really empty, even though it was already mostly furnished. There were two bedrooms and two beds (only one of which had been slept in), a lumpy old couch and a modest TV, and the usual kitchen appliances. The place wouldn’t have seemed so barren if its new owners actually owned something besides the apartment and a car.
Dean was going through his duffle, stashing weapons in strategic places and trying to brighten the place up with some pictures and dirty laundry. Nick was out in what must have been the storm of the century, getting food and maybe some silverware for the night.
They really had been woefully unprepared for this purchase, a mistake they realized when they’d started unpacking and found that they barely had enough with them to make the bedroom seemed lived in.
Dean tossed a pile of clean-ish clothes on the bed and bunched his duffle up, shoving it into the back of the large closet. It was at about that time that the lights flickered and the room went dark. Lightning flashed outside, bathing the bedroom in an eerie glow as Dean fumbled for the flashlight he’d lost somewhere in the jumble.
Thunder crashed. Rain rapped against the windows, and Dean found himself standing alone in a still-unfamiliar building with nothing but a flashlight and a few hidden guns to keep him company.
He wandered out to the living room and started digging through the box of hunting equipment he’d brought in before the storm had started. He had a few spare flashlights, some lighters, and more candles than any man should ever need stored somewhere in there. After a bit of fishing around, he found them and started setting them up in the little room, placing candles used for ceremonies and rituals and the odd birthday party on boxes and tables.
Dean lit them one-by-one, slowly bathing the room in a warm glow, and sat down in the middle of the circle he‘d created. He could wait out the outage. When the lights came back he’d finish unpacking, wait for Nick to get back from wherever it was that was keeping him away for so long, and they’d curl up in their big bed and fall asleep. It was something to look forward to, at least.
Something fumbled against the door, the sound of bags jostling and keys scraping and a low voice cursing the lack of lights echoing through the darkness. Dean smiled. The door opened and Nick came stumbling in, soaking wet and clutching a large number of plastic bags.
“Power out?” the older man asked.
“No, we’re playing an epic game of Ghost In The Graveyard.”
Nick scowled and dropped his dripping bags by the door. “Trying to burn the building down in the process?” he questioned, eyes raking over the numerous candles.
“It was dark,” Dean said with a shrug. He got to his feet as the older man joined him in the center of the circle, excess rainwater flowing off his jacket and snuffing a few of the flames.
“Got some plates,” Nick said as the hunter helped him shrug off his sopping coat. “And some napkins. Forks and knives and spoons.” He wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist as the jacket was tossed and hit the couch. Without thinking, Dean mimicked the gesture. “Found a great bed set, but I left it in the trunk. Didn’t want it to get wet.”
Dean nodded absently, watching the shadows flicker across Nick’s ruined face, creating patterns in the soft grooves. He reached up to touch, thumbs rubbing gently over scars and skin, pulling the taller man down until their lips touched, soft and slow as they swayed in the center of the glowing circle.
For a brief moment, everything was perfect. Everything made sense. The world was as it should be, and Lucifer and angels and Hell didn’t matter. The past slipped away.
And then Nick pulled back. His hands slid up to Dean’s chest and shoved him ever-so-lightly away. He stared, fire reflected in wide eyes. Dean, for his part, tried not to make a sound, to just stare back, to pretend that everything he’d been hoping for hadn’t just crumbled away because he’d been impulsive and stupid and selfish. He didn’t want to be alone in the dark. He didn’t want to be alone at all.
He was pretty sure he whimpered at that point, because something in the older man softened just a bit, his eyes losing their terrified edge and settling into a more familiar gaze. Nick smiled, just a bit, and pulled Dean back to him, warm body to wet body.
Then he kissed him like he meant it.
Author: mummyluvr314
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dean/Nick
Summary: A note to all new homeowners: when you buy a house, make sure you have things to put in it.
A/N: Ninth part of my schmoop_bingo ‘verse for the “candles” square. Title is from “Ring of Fire” - the Adam Lambert version (which you should all check out if you haven’t heard it yet).
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. *Tear*
Previous Chapters: In the handy dandy Master Post!
The apartment seemed really empty, even though it was already mostly furnished. There were two bedrooms and two beds (only one of which had been slept in), a lumpy old couch and a modest TV, and the usual kitchen appliances. The place wouldn’t have seemed so barren if its new owners actually owned something besides the apartment and a car.
Dean was going through his duffle, stashing weapons in strategic places and trying to brighten the place up with some pictures and dirty laundry. Nick was out in what must have been the storm of the century, getting food and maybe some silverware for the night.
They really had been woefully unprepared for this purchase, a mistake they realized when they’d started unpacking and found that they barely had enough with them to make the bedroom seemed lived in.
Dean tossed a pile of clean-ish clothes on the bed and bunched his duffle up, shoving it into the back of the large closet. It was at about that time that the lights flickered and the room went dark. Lightning flashed outside, bathing the bedroom in an eerie glow as Dean fumbled for the flashlight he’d lost somewhere in the jumble.
Thunder crashed. Rain rapped against the windows, and Dean found himself standing alone in a still-unfamiliar building with nothing but a flashlight and a few hidden guns to keep him company.
He wandered out to the living room and started digging through the box of hunting equipment he’d brought in before the storm had started. He had a few spare flashlights, some lighters, and more candles than any man should ever need stored somewhere in there. After a bit of fishing around, he found them and started setting them up in the little room, placing candles used for ceremonies and rituals and the odd birthday party on boxes and tables.
Dean lit them one-by-one, slowly bathing the room in a warm glow, and sat down in the middle of the circle he‘d created. He could wait out the outage. When the lights came back he’d finish unpacking, wait for Nick to get back from wherever it was that was keeping him away for so long, and they’d curl up in their big bed and fall asleep. It was something to look forward to, at least.
Something fumbled against the door, the sound of bags jostling and keys scraping and a low voice cursing the lack of lights echoing through the darkness. Dean smiled. The door opened and Nick came stumbling in, soaking wet and clutching a large number of plastic bags.
“Power out?” the older man asked.
“No, we’re playing an epic game of Ghost In The Graveyard.”
Nick scowled and dropped his dripping bags by the door. “Trying to burn the building down in the process?” he questioned, eyes raking over the numerous candles.
“It was dark,” Dean said with a shrug. He got to his feet as the older man joined him in the center of the circle, excess rainwater flowing off his jacket and snuffing a few of the flames.
“Got some plates,” Nick said as the hunter helped him shrug off his sopping coat. “And some napkins. Forks and knives and spoons.” He wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist as the jacket was tossed and hit the couch. Without thinking, Dean mimicked the gesture. “Found a great bed set, but I left it in the trunk. Didn’t want it to get wet.”
Dean nodded absently, watching the shadows flicker across Nick’s ruined face, creating patterns in the soft grooves. He reached up to touch, thumbs rubbing gently over scars and skin, pulling the taller man down until their lips touched, soft and slow as they swayed in the center of the glowing circle.
For a brief moment, everything was perfect. Everything made sense. The world was as it should be, and Lucifer and angels and Hell didn’t matter. The past slipped away.
And then Nick pulled back. His hands slid up to Dean’s chest and shoved him ever-so-lightly away. He stared, fire reflected in wide eyes. Dean, for his part, tried not to make a sound, to just stare back, to pretend that everything he’d been hoping for hadn’t just crumbled away because he’d been impulsive and stupid and selfish. He didn’t want to be alone in the dark. He didn’t want to be alone at all.
He was pretty sure he whimpered at that point, because something in the older man softened just a bit, his eyes losing their terrified edge and settling into a more familiar gaze. Nick smiled, just a bit, and pulled Dean back to him, warm body to wet body.
Then he kissed him like he meant it.