It Was Different This Time (Supernatural - Dean/OCs)
TITLE: It Was Different This Time
SERIES: yes, it’s just not titled yet
DISTRIBUTION: Just let me know and link back here.
RATING: R
WHY?: Angst, Schmoopyness, Het Sex
CHARACTERS: Dean Winchester, OCs
DISCLAIMER: "A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far Far Away, there was Supernatural. And we looked at it and saw that it was good. And all was right in the world. But then, we saw that Dean doth look upon Sam with lust, and that was not likely to be included in the next episode, so we said “Screw it!” and wrote it ourselves, even though we do not make any money off of this. And all was right with the world."
WARNINGS: Mary Sue AND Mary Jane OCs. I put the OOOOO in “Mary Sue.” Eat it.
NOTES: This is set a couple years before the first season. So Sam is still at college. This contains a vauge spoiler for first season episode "Route 666."
IT WAS DIFFERENT THIS TIME
I drive along the road, worried that I’m in the wrong place, wrong road, wrong state even, but there’s the house, creepy and looming in the stillness of the foggy March morning. I park at the end of the long sloping driveway, hoping that the walk to the door will clear my head. I climb the steps to the porch, feeling like I’m part of some strange Walt Whitman poem. I pause before the door, objections screaming themselves in my head "It’s too early……….no one’s awake……..she wont remember you - or worse, she just wont care………” I force myself to knock. At worst I can always say that I was bringing Kat a present from Dad. As lame and false as that is, I know she’d accept it and not question.
I hear footsteps. I don’t know if I’m hoping it’s her or one of the others. Maybe someone else - a buffer - someone to banter with so I just don’t bust into tears. The door opens. It’s Her, hair trailing around her shoulders, that ragged kimono she wears as a robe wrapped around her.
“Ummmm….Hi.” I mumble, staring at her.
“Oh my God! Dean! Are you Okay???”
“uuuuh…..” I stutter.
“You’re NOT okay.” She states firmly, “What’s wrong???”
“Well I…” shit. I can’t even finish a sentence. I’m just gonna stand here and cry on her doorstep like a fucking four-year-old.
“C’mon You.” She says, pushing me gently over to the swing on the veranda. “Siddown.”
I “siddown.” She sits next to me, curling her legs under her and wrapping an arm around me. I give up on maintaining any sort of manliness or dignity and sob on her shoulder.
A half an hour later I’m clinging to her robe, sniffling out the last remnants of tears and she’s stroking my hair, murmuring unintelligible comfort noises.
“Shhhhhhhhhh………” she whispers “It’ll be okay…”
Somehow, when she says it, I believe her.
I sniffle. She holds out a handkerchief. That’s so like her. Prepared for everything, which I guess includes angsty demon-hunters showing up on her doorstep in tears.
“So,” she says, putting a hand under my chin to survey the damage “You wanna talk now?”
So I talk. It all comes pouring out. Sam going to college, fighting with dad, Cassie dumping me. It's petty, I know. The last part. I should care more about the other things.
“It’s not even like it’s the first time……..” I mumble
“I just thought…….”
“It was different this time???” she finishes for me.
“Yea. I know it sounds pathetic and cliché but…”
“But you just want it to be true?”
“Not even that…..” I try to explain “It’s like I don’t even LIKE her anymore……..she’s not the same as she used to be, or maybe she never was. She thinks I’m CRAZY.” I think I’m gonna start crying again.
She rocks the swing a bit and pushes her hair back behind her ear. “That’s almost worse isn’t it?” she asks softly “When you start to think maybe it was never how you thought is was…………” she takes the crumpled handkerchief away from me and wipes my face. It’s a gesture you’d use on a child, but somehow it’s reassuring.
“Yea…….” I say, sighing heavily, leaning into her arms again. We rest there, swinging in cathartic silence.
“You ready to come inside?” she asks after a while.
“I won’t wake people up?” I question.
“Well Mom is actually in Boston, tracking something…I’m surprised you to didn’t cross paths this week.” She says, standing up and holding out her hands to me, grinning “And the other lazy bums I live with tend to not wake up until they smell breakfast……….”
I muster up a smile in return.
“Besides, It’s 8:30 in the morning on a Saturday…………”
I try to apologize. “I’m sorry I came so early…….” She makes that patented “psssht! You’re being ridiculous” hand-waving gesture she does and I follow her inside.
Breakfast is surprisingly relaxing. I guess there’s just something about big old farmhouse kitchens - even if they have been painted green and silver and have hexes on the walls - that puts one at ease. The sun is shining through the windows, uncommonly warm for a late march morning. Hope breezes in, quizzing me about what Sam’s been up to, grabbing coffee, giving me a kiss on the cheek. Esther flicks a cheerio at me across the breakfast table. It’s like I’ve been living here the past four months instead of being on the road, getting injured and refusing to talk to my only family member.
“Well we’re going!” says Hope, heading out the front door. She and Esther are going into the city for the weekend. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
“Great - you know we’re going to walk in on an orgy now when we get back!” grumbles Esther.
“And this is bad HOW????”
“Good Point.”
They’re off, down the long driveway, on the road to “civilization.”
Rebecca gives me a LOOK from across the kitchen. “I’m going for a walk….you wanna come or do you need alone time?”
“I’d rather come,” I say “It’s nice to be around someone I feel completely comfortable around. If I stay here I’ll just….”
“Wallow yourself into oblivion?” she grins.
“Exactly. Let’s go.”
We’re walking along this gravel path through the woods. It’s almost how I picture fairytale woods. Not that I’ve read fairytales in ages, but still……winding path, evergreens, oddly places statues and benches.
Finally we sit down, me straddling a bench, her with her legs crossed, facing me, wavy hair falling in front of her face again.
She grins “Feeling better?”
“Yea….” I say looking at her “It’s amazing how I knew if I could just find you, things would work themselves out.”
“Well that’s what friends are for” she laughs, adding “And if you start singing the song, I’ll kick your ass!” She shakes a finger at me.
I grab her arm and give her a half-hug. “Thank You.” I say and kiss her.
I mean it to be a friendly thank you kiss.
It isn’t.
Her fingers twine in my hair and I’m pulling her forward, pressing our bodies together.
Eventually we pull apart. She’s shaking.
“Are you cold?” I ask, even though I know that’s not it.
“No.” she shakes her head. She’s holding my face in her hands. “What are we doing?”
“I don’t know….I don’t know, I don’t know…..” I’m kissing her again.
Her legs are wrapped around my waist, her arms around my neck. I cross my legs on the bench, holding her up, rocking her towards me. She buries her face in my neck, covering me with feather kisses. I kiss along her jaw, and flick my tongue against her earlobe. She whimpers, her fingers digging into my back.
We sit there for what seems like an instant, yet an eternity…….mouth to mouth, legs entwined, hands exploring cautiously as if scared to break the silence with a wrong movement. Her lips are sweet……they taste of honey and salvation.
I push her gently backwards onto the bench. She’s looking up at me, her red hair spreading out around her like a fiery mist. Her fingers are cold on my face as she pulls my heated lips back to hers. My hands trace their way up her legs, caressing, lingering. I brush my thumbs over her hipbones and she arches up against me. My hands continue their exploration, across her stomach. Somehow our clothing has come undone. With the lightest touch of my fingertips I trace circles around her nipples.
Finally it has to happen and I bury my face in the nape of her neck and slip into her. She shudders and gasps, a quick indrawn breath that speaks volumes. Oh God…….! She’s so tight…. As her silken wetness closes around me she pulls her knees up, wrapping her legs around my waist.
“Dean………..!” she moans softly, making my name a cry, a prayer, an exultation of wonder. Again her fingers tangle in my hair as I move against her, rocking our bodies together. Face to face and hip to hip, we’re reaching, climbing, soaring. I don’t want to come down.
Eventually we’re drawn apart and back to the reality of a cold stone bench and the cool March sunlight beating down on us. We sit up together, still entwined. I can’t let go. Her hands rest on my shoulders.
She traces the line of my jaw with a finger, her liquid green eyes searching my face for
something…..“Did you find what you needed?” she asks me quietly.
The question seems odd, yet right.
“Yes.” I say simply, holding her to me.
And it’s true somehow.
With this is my heart I think I can go back now.
I walk back to the house to call Dad.
SERIES: yes, it’s just not titled yet
DISTRIBUTION: Just let me know and link back here.
RATING: R
WHY?: Angst, Schmoopyness, Het Sex
CHARACTERS: Dean Winchester, OCs
DISCLAIMER: "A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far Far Away, there was Supernatural. And we looked at it and saw that it was good. And all was right in the world. But then, we saw that Dean doth look upon Sam with lust, and that was not likely to be included in the next episode, so we said “Screw it!” and wrote it ourselves, even though we do not make any money off of this. And all was right with the world."
WARNINGS: Mary Sue AND Mary Jane OCs. I put the OOOOO in “Mary Sue.” Eat it.
NOTES: This is set a couple years before the first season. So Sam is still at college. This contains a vauge spoiler for first season episode "Route 666."
IT WAS DIFFERENT THIS TIME
I drive along the road, worried that I’m in the wrong place, wrong road, wrong state even, but there’s the house, creepy and looming in the stillness of the foggy March morning. I park at the end of the long sloping driveway, hoping that the walk to the door will clear my head. I climb the steps to the porch, feeling like I’m part of some strange Walt Whitman poem. I pause before the door, objections screaming themselves in my head "It’s too early……….no one’s awake……..she wont remember you - or worse, she just wont care………” I force myself to knock. At worst I can always say that I was bringing Kat a present from Dad. As lame and false as that is, I know she’d accept it and not question.
I hear footsteps. I don’t know if I’m hoping it’s her or one of the others. Maybe someone else - a buffer - someone to banter with so I just don’t bust into tears. The door opens. It’s Her, hair trailing around her shoulders, that ragged kimono she wears as a robe wrapped around her.
“Ummmm….Hi.” I mumble, staring at her.
“Oh my God! Dean! Are you Okay???”
“uuuuh…..” I stutter.
“You’re NOT okay.” She states firmly, “What’s wrong???”
“Well I…” shit. I can’t even finish a sentence. I’m just gonna stand here and cry on her doorstep like a fucking four-year-old.
“C’mon You.” She says, pushing me gently over to the swing on the veranda. “Siddown.”
I “siddown.” She sits next to me, curling her legs under her and wrapping an arm around me. I give up on maintaining any sort of manliness or dignity and sob on her shoulder.
A half an hour later I’m clinging to her robe, sniffling out the last remnants of tears and she’s stroking my hair, murmuring unintelligible comfort noises.
“Shhhhhhhhhh………” she whispers “It’ll be okay…”
Somehow, when she says it, I believe her.
I sniffle. She holds out a handkerchief. That’s so like her. Prepared for everything, which I guess includes angsty demon-hunters showing up on her doorstep in tears.
“So,” she says, putting a hand under my chin to survey the damage “You wanna talk now?”
So I talk. It all comes pouring out. Sam going to college, fighting with dad, Cassie dumping me. It's petty, I know. The last part. I should care more about the other things.
“It’s not even like it’s the first time……..” I mumble
“I just thought…….”
“It was different this time???” she finishes for me.
“Yea. I know it sounds pathetic and cliché but…”
“But you just want it to be true?”
“Not even that…..” I try to explain “It’s like I don’t even LIKE her anymore……..she’s not the same as she used to be, or maybe she never was. She thinks I’m CRAZY.” I think I’m gonna start crying again.
She rocks the swing a bit and pushes her hair back behind her ear. “That’s almost worse isn’t it?” she asks softly “When you start to think maybe it was never how you thought is was…………” she takes the crumpled handkerchief away from me and wipes my face. It’s a gesture you’d use on a child, but somehow it’s reassuring.
“Yea…….” I say, sighing heavily, leaning into her arms again. We rest there, swinging in cathartic silence.
“You ready to come inside?” she asks after a while.
“I won’t wake people up?” I question.
“Well Mom is actually in Boston, tracking something…I’m surprised you to didn’t cross paths this week.” She says, standing up and holding out her hands to me, grinning “And the other lazy bums I live with tend to not wake up until they smell breakfast……….”
I muster up a smile in return.
“Besides, It’s 8:30 in the morning on a Saturday…………”
I try to apologize. “I’m sorry I came so early…….” She makes that patented “psssht! You’re being ridiculous” hand-waving gesture she does and I follow her inside.
Breakfast is surprisingly relaxing. I guess there’s just something about big old farmhouse kitchens - even if they have been painted green and silver and have hexes on the walls - that puts one at ease. The sun is shining through the windows, uncommonly warm for a late march morning. Hope breezes in, quizzing me about what Sam’s been up to, grabbing coffee, giving me a kiss on the cheek. Esther flicks a cheerio at me across the breakfast table. It’s like I’ve been living here the past four months instead of being on the road, getting injured and refusing to talk to my only family member.
“Well we’re going!” says Hope, heading out the front door. She and Esther are going into the city for the weekend. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
“Great - you know we’re going to walk in on an orgy now when we get back!” grumbles Esther.
“And this is bad HOW????”
“Good Point.”
They’re off, down the long driveway, on the road to “civilization.”
Rebecca gives me a LOOK from across the kitchen. “I’m going for a walk….you wanna come or do you need alone time?”
“I’d rather come,” I say “It’s nice to be around someone I feel completely comfortable around. If I stay here I’ll just….”
“Wallow yourself into oblivion?” she grins.
“Exactly. Let’s go.”
We’re walking along this gravel path through the woods. It’s almost how I picture fairytale woods. Not that I’ve read fairytales in ages, but still……winding path, evergreens, oddly places statues and benches.
Finally we sit down, me straddling a bench, her with her legs crossed, facing me, wavy hair falling in front of her face again.
She grins “Feeling better?”
“Yea….” I say looking at her “It’s amazing how I knew if I could just find you, things would work themselves out.”
“Well that’s what friends are for” she laughs, adding “And if you start singing the song, I’ll kick your ass!” She shakes a finger at me.
I grab her arm and give her a half-hug. “Thank You.” I say and kiss her.
I mean it to be a friendly thank you kiss.
It isn’t.
Her fingers twine in my hair and I’m pulling her forward, pressing our bodies together.
Eventually we pull apart. She’s shaking.
“Are you cold?” I ask, even though I know that’s not it.
“No.” she shakes her head. She’s holding my face in her hands. “What are we doing?”
“I don’t know….I don’t know, I don’t know…..” I’m kissing her again.
Her legs are wrapped around my waist, her arms around my neck. I cross my legs on the bench, holding her up, rocking her towards me. She buries her face in my neck, covering me with feather kisses. I kiss along her jaw, and flick my tongue against her earlobe. She whimpers, her fingers digging into my back.
We sit there for what seems like an instant, yet an eternity…….mouth to mouth, legs entwined, hands exploring cautiously as if scared to break the silence with a wrong movement. Her lips are sweet……they taste of honey and salvation.
I push her gently backwards onto the bench. She’s looking up at me, her red hair spreading out around her like a fiery mist. Her fingers are cold on my face as she pulls my heated lips back to hers. My hands trace their way up her legs, caressing, lingering. I brush my thumbs over her hipbones and she arches up against me. My hands continue their exploration, across her stomach. Somehow our clothing has come undone. With the lightest touch of my fingertips I trace circles around her nipples.
Finally it has to happen and I bury my face in the nape of her neck and slip into her. She shudders and gasps, a quick indrawn breath that speaks volumes. Oh God…….! She’s so tight…. As her silken wetness closes around me she pulls her knees up, wrapping her legs around my waist.
“Dean………..!” she moans softly, making my name a cry, a prayer, an exultation of wonder. Again her fingers tangle in my hair as I move against her, rocking our bodies together. Face to face and hip to hip, we’re reaching, climbing, soaring. I don’t want to come down.
Eventually we’re drawn apart and back to the reality of a cold stone bench and the cool March sunlight beating down on us. We sit up together, still entwined. I can’t let go. Her hands rest on my shoulders.
She traces the line of my jaw with a finger, her liquid green eyes searching my face for
something…..“Did you find what you needed?” she asks me quietly.
The question seems odd, yet right.
“Yes.” I say simply, holding her to me.
And it’s true somehow.
With this is my heart I think I can go back now.
I walk back to the house to call Dad.