Fic: You Look Good In My Shirt
Title: You Look Good In My Shirt
Author: mummyluvr314
Fandom: Supernatural (with nods to Being Human US)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dean/Lucifer (dub-con)
Summary: Dean wakes up every morning curled next to a live body, secure in the knowledge that while he may have damned himself, he saved everyone he loves.
A/N: So, Dean actually spends the entirety of “Mommy Dearest” wearing Lucifer’s clothes. There has to be a reason, right?
Disclaimer: I don’t own the show or the characters or the wardrobe.
Shit. Shit. Shit, he’d overslept again, curling into the comfortably cool body beside his own, reveling in the feeling of the arm wrapped around him. He’d overslept and Bobby and Sam would be stomping up the stairs at any moment demanding he roll himself out of bed and get to work on those shells.
Shit.
He would have to cut them off. They couldn’t see him like this, sheets pulled up and rumpled, the room still smelling of sex, and a very masculine bedmate half-hanging off the small bed.
So Dean did what he did on most mornings, and slowly untangled himself from the other body. He slipped quietly from the bed and started gathering up clothes, pulling on jeans and socks, t-shirt and work shirt.
He paused at the door to glance back at the snoozing angel in his bed. He smiled.
-.-
It was a text message that had drawn him out into a park in the middle of the night. He stood underneath a flickering streetlamp, fidgeting slightly.
Dean didn’t like the situation. It felt like a trap. He didn’t want to be there, not with Sam so freshly re-souled. He wanted to be back at Bobby’s where he knew they were safe, talking about dragons and celebrating their defeat of Crowley.
He didn’t want to be standing in a cold park in the middle of the night waiting for a mysterious texter who claimed to have information about Purgatory and the latest threat to the world.
Something moved in the darkness, too fast for him to catch it. Dean blinked, and he wasn’t alone.
He staggered away, his back hitting the lamp pole and plunging them into darkness.
It couldn’t be. The man standing there had to be an illusion, or a nightmare. He couldn’t be real because Dean had watched him fall - twice.
“Sorry if I startled you,” the familiar voice droned. “I’m still getting the hang of this.” He stepped forward and the streetlight buzzed back to life. “You’re not looking so good, Dean.”
“You’re dead.”
“No,” Lucifer said. “I’m not. And I’m not the only one. That’s what I need to talk to you about.”
“You brought me here?”
The angel shrugged. “Of course.”
The longer Dean looked at him, the harder it was for him to believe it was Lucifer. Sure, he assumed the guy looked the same in the face (it was hard to tell when staring at unblemished skin), and was wearing the same old work clothes as before, but he’d added a black jacket to the mix and his hair was too long and too light. It was like talking to a shifter who had the right idea, but failed in the execution. It made conversation easier.
“Why?” Dean asked, pushing himself away from the pole. “Why me? And how?”
“Curious today, aren’t we?” Lucifer moved forward gracefully, circling the hunter as a predator would circle its prey. “You didn’t think there weren’t risks involved with ripping your brother from me, did you? Death may have grabbed Sam’s soul from the Cage, but he forgot to lock up on his way out. All it took was a little ingenuity, and here I am.” He spread his arms wide and beamed.
“You’re not getting Sam,” Dean growled.
“Oh, perish the thought. No, I think I much prefer James here to the previous model. Same bloodline,” he flashed a grin, and for a moment, Dean could have sworn he saw fangs, “different perks. Pity he couldn’t be more specific in his requests, though.” Lucifer leaned his shoulder up against the lamppost and inclined his head toward Dean. “Asked for help with a little problem he was having with some elder tribesmen. Messy stuff. Easy to clean up, though. The wayward children, though, those are the worst.” He shrugged. “Shame he had to die. It is nice having such a capable body all to myself, though.”
“What do you want?” Dean asked, already growing tired of the villainous monologue.
“The same thing you want. Crowley’s head on a plate.”
“Crowley’s dead.”
Lucifer swung around the pole so fast that he was nothing more than a blur. He stood in front of Dean, staring down at the hunter with dark eyes, the stench of stale blood hanging in the air around him. “Therein lies the rub. Our dead heretic Crowley is very much alive.”
“I saw him die.”
“No, you saw him burn. Things can be brought back from the ashes if they’ve got the right angel on their shoulders.” He took a step back. “To recap,” he said, ticking off points on his fingers, “Azazel: dead. Lilith: dead. James:” he tugged lightly at his jacket, “dead. Lucifer: alive. Crowley: alive. Eve: alive. This is a problem.”
“How is it my problem?”
“I thought you’d never ask. Crowley has something of mine. He took my God-given place, and while I may not enjoy the Cage or the Pit, or the demons, I do enjoy my special present. I want it back.”
“You’re kidding,” Dean said. “You spent hundreds of thousands of years trying to get out, and now you want to get back in?”
“I don’t want back in. I want control. I know a certain angel who can relate. I’d thought I’d come to you first.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard my proposition.”
“It’s you. So, no.” Dean side-stepped the Devil and turned away, his footsteps echoing through the empty park.
“All I want is Crowley,” Lucifer called out. “Anything you want in exchange for that is yours.” Dean stopped. “Including Eve.” Dean turned. “I know how to kill her.” Dean walked back to the streetlight. “That’s what I thought.”
“You can kill her?”
“No. But I know what can. The ashes of a phoenix.”
Dean smirked. “Thanks for the intel.” He turned to leave again.
“Do you know where to find a phoenix?”
The hunter sighed. “You do?”
“I can arrange for the information to be given to you. In exchange for your cooperation, of course.”
“And if I say no?”
“I came to you first because you’re loyal, Dean. I appreciate that. You care for your brother unconditionally, and that’s rare. I know. But you are not the only one who wants something. Castiel needs help with his little war. He needs an archangel - a real one - and he’s getting desperate.”
The Devil smiled and slid around to face the hunter again. “Then there’s Sammy. I can hound him again. It only took a year to get what I wanted last time, and that was without Death’s flimsy wall.” He leaned close, copper breath ghosting across Dean’s face. “I can tear that wall down in no time, Dean, and leave you to watch your brother descend into madness before his body breaks and he finally dies. I did things to him that would make Alistair beg for release. Do you really want him remembering that?”
Dean closed his eyes. Images of bone, blood, twisted flesh, and sharpened knives danced behind his eyelids. He looked up. “We help you find Crowley, and you’ll tell us how to kill Eve?”
Lucifer nodded. “I will.”
“You’ll leave Sam alone, and help Cas stop Raphael?”
The Devil smiled. “I will.”
“And that’s it?”
“I want one more thing.”
Dean swallowed. Figured. “What?”
“You.”
The hunter blinked and took an involuntary step back. “But Sam - “
“Not like that, Dean.” He smiled and glanced down at the body he was wearing. “Seems there may still be a bit of James left in here after all. You’re his type.”
Dean, self-sacrificing as ever, barely had to think about it. “You swear to God you won’t destroy this world when we finish saving it, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Lucifer nodded as if he’d been expecting the response before leaning in to seal the deal.
-.-
“She’s dead,” Dean announced as the soft flutter of wings alerted him to the appearance of an angel in the room. “Worked like a charm.”
“And Crowley?” Lucifer asked, squeezing in close and wrapping his arms around the hunter.
“Alive,” Dean muttered. “Like you said.”
Lucifer nodded, nuzzling into his neck. Dean closed his eyes and let it happen, trying to tell himself that it wasn’t nice having someone to come home to, that he didn’t take comfort in knowing that, even if he was going to Hell, he wouldn’t be tortured. He would be at the king’s right hand.
“She showed me where to find him.”
Lucifer pulled away and grabbed the hunter’s shoulders, turning him around. “How?” The angel leaned down and sniffed at Dean’s neck. “She touched you.”
The hunter quirked a brow. “Jealous?”
Blue eyes turned black with lust, and Dean swore to himself that it was never going to get easier to see. “I’ll just have to re-stake my claim.”
Dean nodded absently and threw his jacket onto a chair. Lucifer smiled.
“What?” Dean asked.
“Nothing,” Lucifer muttered, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward the bed. “I just think you look good in my shirt.”
Author: mummyluvr314
Fandom: Supernatural (with nods to Being Human US)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dean/Lucifer (dub-con)
Summary: Dean wakes up every morning curled next to a live body, secure in the knowledge that while he may have damned himself, he saved everyone he loves.
A/N: So, Dean actually spends the entirety of “Mommy Dearest” wearing Lucifer’s clothes. There has to be a reason, right?
Disclaimer: I don’t own the show or the characters or the wardrobe.
Shit. Shit. Shit, he’d overslept again, curling into the comfortably cool body beside his own, reveling in the feeling of the arm wrapped around him. He’d overslept and Bobby and Sam would be stomping up the stairs at any moment demanding he roll himself out of bed and get to work on those shells.
Shit.
He would have to cut them off. They couldn’t see him like this, sheets pulled up and rumpled, the room still smelling of sex, and a very masculine bedmate half-hanging off the small bed.
So Dean did what he did on most mornings, and slowly untangled himself from the other body. He slipped quietly from the bed and started gathering up clothes, pulling on jeans and socks, t-shirt and work shirt.
He paused at the door to glance back at the snoozing angel in his bed. He smiled.
-.-
It was a text message that had drawn him out into a park in the middle of the night. He stood underneath a flickering streetlamp, fidgeting slightly.
Dean didn’t like the situation. It felt like a trap. He didn’t want to be there, not with Sam so freshly re-souled. He wanted to be back at Bobby’s where he knew they were safe, talking about dragons and celebrating their defeat of Crowley.
He didn’t want to be standing in a cold park in the middle of the night waiting for a mysterious texter who claimed to have information about Purgatory and the latest threat to the world.
Something moved in the darkness, too fast for him to catch it. Dean blinked, and he wasn’t alone.
He staggered away, his back hitting the lamp pole and plunging them into darkness.
It couldn’t be. The man standing there had to be an illusion, or a nightmare. He couldn’t be real because Dean had watched him fall - twice.
“Sorry if I startled you,” the familiar voice droned. “I’m still getting the hang of this.” He stepped forward and the streetlight buzzed back to life. “You’re not looking so good, Dean.”
“You’re dead.”
“No,” Lucifer said. “I’m not. And I’m not the only one. That’s what I need to talk to you about.”
“You brought me here?”
The angel shrugged. “Of course.”
The longer Dean looked at him, the harder it was for him to believe it was Lucifer. Sure, he assumed the guy looked the same in the face (it was hard to tell when staring at unblemished skin), and was wearing the same old work clothes as before, but he’d added a black jacket to the mix and his hair was too long and too light. It was like talking to a shifter who had the right idea, but failed in the execution. It made conversation easier.
“Why?” Dean asked, pushing himself away from the pole. “Why me? And how?”
“Curious today, aren’t we?” Lucifer moved forward gracefully, circling the hunter as a predator would circle its prey. “You didn’t think there weren’t risks involved with ripping your brother from me, did you? Death may have grabbed Sam’s soul from the Cage, but he forgot to lock up on his way out. All it took was a little ingenuity, and here I am.” He spread his arms wide and beamed.
“You’re not getting Sam,” Dean growled.
“Oh, perish the thought. No, I think I much prefer James here to the previous model. Same bloodline,” he flashed a grin, and for a moment, Dean could have sworn he saw fangs, “different perks. Pity he couldn’t be more specific in his requests, though.” Lucifer leaned his shoulder up against the lamppost and inclined his head toward Dean. “Asked for help with a little problem he was having with some elder tribesmen. Messy stuff. Easy to clean up, though. The wayward children, though, those are the worst.” He shrugged. “Shame he had to die. It is nice having such a capable body all to myself, though.”
“What do you want?” Dean asked, already growing tired of the villainous monologue.
“The same thing you want. Crowley’s head on a plate.”
“Crowley’s dead.”
Lucifer swung around the pole so fast that he was nothing more than a blur. He stood in front of Dean, staring down at the hunter with dark eyes, the stench of stale blood hanging in the air around him. “Therein lies the rub. Our dead heretic Crowley is very much alive.”
“I saw him die.”
“No, you saw him burn. Things can be brought back from the ashes if they’ve got the right angel on their shoulders.” He took a step back. “To recap,” he said, ticking off points on his fingers, “Azazel: dead. Lilith: dead. James:” he tugged lightly at his jacket, “dead. Lucifer: alive. Crowley: alive. Eve: alive. This is a problem.”
“How is it my problem?”
“I thought you’d never ask. Crowley has something of mine. He took my God-given place, and while I may not enjoy the Cage or the Pit, or the demons, I do enjoy my special present. I want it back.”
“You’re kidding,” Dean said. “You spent hundreds of thousands of years trying to get out, and now you want to get back in?”
“I don’t want back in. I want control. I know a certain angel who can relate. I’d thought I’d come to you first.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard my proposition.”
“It’s you. So, no.” Dean side-stepped the Devil and turned away, his footsteps echoing through the empty park.
“All I want is Crowley,” Lucifer called out. “Anything you want in exchange for that is yours.” Dean stopped. “Including Eve.” Dean turned. “I know how to kill her.” Dean walked back to the streetlight. “That’s what I thought.”
“You can kill her?”
“No. But I know what can. The ashes of a phoenix.”
Dean smirked. “Thanks for the intel.” He turned to leave again.
“Do you know where to find a phoenix?”
The hunter sighed. “You do?”
“I can arrange for the information to be given to you. In exchange for your cooperation, of course.”
“And if I say no?”
“I came to you first because you’re loyal, Dean. I appreciate that. You care for your brother unconditionally, and that’s rare. I know. But you are not the only one who wants something. Castiel needs help with his little war. He needs an archangel - a real one - and he’s getting desperate.”
The Devil smiled and slid around to face the hunter again. “Then there’s Sammy. I can hound him again. It only took a year to get what I wanted last time, and that was without Death’s flimsy wall.” He leaned close, copper breath ghosting across Dean’s face. “I can tear that wall down in no time, Dean, and leave you to watch your brother descend into madness before his body breaks and he finally dies. I did things to him that would make Alistair beg for release. Do you really want him remembering that?”
Dean closed his eyes. Images of bone, blood, twisted flesh, and sharpened knives danced behind his eyelids. He looked up. “We help you find Crowley, and you’ll tell us how to kill Eve?”
Lucifer nodded. “I will.”
“You’ll leave Sam alone, and help Cas stop Raphael?”
The Devil smiled. “I will.”
“And that’s it?”
“I want one more thing.”
Dean swallowed. Figured. “What?”
“You.”
The hunter blinked and took an involuntary step back. “But Sam - “
“Not like that, Dean.” He smiled and glanced down at the body he was wearing. “Seems there may still be a bit of James left in here after all. You’re his type.”
Dean, self-sacrificing as ever, barely had to think about it. “You swear to God you won’t destroy this world when we finish saving it, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Lucifer nodded as if he’d been expecting the response before leaning in to seal the deal.
-.-
“She’s dead,” Dean announced as the soft flutter of wings alerted him to the appearance of an angel in the room. “Worked like a charm.”
“And Crowley?” Lucifer asked, squeezing in close and wrapping his arms around the hunter.
“Alive,” Dean muttered. “Like you said.”
Lucifer nodded, nuzzling into his neck. Dean closed his eyes and let it happen, trying to tell himself that it wasn’t nice having someone to come home to, that he didn’t take comfort in knowing that, even if he was going to Hell, he wouldn’t be tortured. He would be at the king’s right hand.
“She showed me where to find him.”
Lucifer pulled away and grabbed the hunter’s shoulders, turning him around. “How?” The angel leaned down and sniffed at Dean’s neck. “She touched you.”
The hunter quirked a brow. “Jealous?”
Blue eyes turned black with lust, and Dean swore to himself that it was never going to get easier to see. “I’ll just have to re-stake my claim.”
Dean nodded absently and threw his jacket onto a chair. Lucifer smiled.
“What?” Dean asked.
“Nothing,” Lucifer muttered, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward the bed. “I just think you look good in my shirt.”