Stars Are Falling, Dean/Jess, R. AU, (Pre Series)
A prompt caught my eye at the Free For All
With a BIG Thanks to oxoniensis for the beta help!!
Title: Stars are Falling
Pairing: Dean/Jess
Rating: R
Word Count:1040
Warnings: Themes of apocalypse, I guess
Summary: For the Free for All, for vinylroad’s prompt:
AU where Jess is Dean's sister, Pre-series, Dean falls ill after a injury on the hunt, alone in a cabin with Jess. Apocalypse fic.
It’s fitting that when the world finally ends, it’s their birthday.
There are no candles like last year, when Dean found sparklers in an abandoned store and put them in a cake he'd bartered a razor for.
This year there are only a couple of cans of beans and some frozen fish that isn't keeping well in the broken freezer of their cabin. Jess intends for them to save the meal until the afternoon, not that it’s easy to tell time, with the sky blood red twenty-four hours a day.
Dean always swears he can tell when it’s dark, that the red runs deeper, that he can still see the stars through it, shining down on them through the night.
Jess stares into the sky, letting Dean sleep what they assume to be the morning away, imagining she can see the stars beyond the bloody clouds. She remembers the shared birthdays of their youth; she never had a birthday alone, and Dean maintains he can't remember any he had.
They mark the passing of the years together, always.
“Careful, the sky might fall in,” Dean calls out.
It’s an old joke, one he used to say when she was young and genuinely scared the stars might fall in. She hears him struggling to walk toward her, but resists the urge to help him. He won't thank her for it and she isn't in the mood for an argument, not today. Dean slides his arms around her waist. He rests his face against hers, beard scratching her cheek.
Jess tilts her head just enough that their lips can meet, a kiss that isn't in any hurry to go anywhere. She’s careful not to press too tightly against him in case she pulls his bandages again. Dean won't complain even if she hurts him.
Dean pulls back, looking past her head and crinkling his eyes. Jess follows his gaze. There’s only brush as far as she can see, lightning strikes in the distance marking the horizon.
“What is it?”
“Might happen today,” Dean says, and his tone is only half bitter. He wants to be there, fighting until the end, going out in a blaze of glory. If he were able to walk properly, able to fight, he would be.
If Jess hadn't begged him to take care of himself, he would be.
Jess is pleased he isn't. If it is the end, this is exactly where she wants to be. She tugs away from him. “Eat now?”
Dean agrees. He sets up a small fire and they cook the fish in a silence marked only by the faint roar of the fighting in the distance. As they finish eating, Dean grins. It’s the grin that got them into trouble with Dad countless times. The grin that made Jess finally give in to her impulses, on her nineteenth birthday, and lean forward and kiss him.
“Got a s'prise,” Dean says, and he hobbles to his bag. He stops twice on the way, placing his hand on his hip, pain washing over his face but chased away by sheer determination. He brings out a can, and throws it toward her. ”Catch.”
“It's beer.” Jess turns it over in her hands. It’s been six months since she saw beer. The only alcohol they have is clear spirits, kept for washing knives or wounds. “How did you get this?”
“My immense charm.” Dean spreads his arms wide and nearly overbalances with the effort. He nods at the couch, the lone piece of furniture in the room, and Jess meets him there, sinking down with him into it.
She cracks the can open, the accompanying hiss loud. She offers Dean first sip and he takes it, wiping the back of his mouth when droplets catch on his beard. They pass the can back and forth, stretching out the alcohol as long as possible. It’s been so long since she's drunk any, that Jess imagines the alcohol infusing her bones already.
“One swig left,” Dean says. He holds the beer out and Jess shakes her head. That should be his. Dean shrugs and places the can carefully on the floor, saving the mouthful for goodness knows when.
Jess laughs, but doesn't have time to tease him about it because Dean is leaning back, and into her, until she’s tasting the alcohol on his tongue. He pulls off her shirt, and he isn't careful like usual, with not enough clothes to go around. He rips it off, the top button popping and bouncing across the room.
She shifts up, meeting a spring with the small of her back, but it lets her brush her breasts into Dean's face, and he chuckles as he mouths them. Heat pools in her body, delicious, aching need building with every lick Dean gives. Impatience builds with her desire, but she doesn’t rush him. Who knows how much time they have, maybe no time to do this again, she’ll let Dean take his time.
Dean pauses, catches her gaze and winks, before finally shifting his kisses down her body. He pulls her pants off next, moves to mouth her pussy through her worn panties, then tugs those down too, licking and sending her soaring. Jess is dimly aware of a roaring in the distance, like ten Impalas racing toward them; it’s either that or the blood raging in her ears, she isn't sure which.
Jess reaches, grasps at his shoulders, pulls at his shirt, forgetting to be careful until he lets out a hiss of pain. She stops then, lets him shed his clothes carefully before she pulls him back down. He settles back between her legs, giving her that look that asks if she is ready and she grins her response, rocking upward, grinding her hips into his cock. He thrusts into her, and she cradles his shoulders with her hands, touching his deep scars with the tips of her fingers.
She comes before him, squeezing, shuddering around him, and she’s still riding the wave when he comes, emptying himself into her. He leans down, hugs her, whispers, “There's nowhere else I'd rather be.”
That's when she hears the crack, louder than a hundred bolts of thunder.
Jess knows the stars really are falling in.
****
Feedback is welcomed.
With a BIG Thanks to oxoniensis for the beta help!!
Title: Stars are Falling
Pairing: Dean/Jess
Rating: R
Word Count:1040
Warnings: Themes of apocalypse, I guess
Summary: For the Free for All, for vinylroad’s prompt:
AU where Jess is Dean's sister, Pre-series, Dean falls ill after a injury on the hunt, alone in a cabin with Jess. Apocalypse fic.
It’s fitting that when the world finally ends, it’s their birthday.
There are no candles like last year, when Dean found sparklers in an abandoned store and put them in a cake he'd bartered a razor for.
This year there are only a couple of cans of beans and some frozen fish that isn't keeping well in the broken freezer of their cabin. Jess intends for them to save the meal until the afternoon, not that it’s easy to tell time, with the sky blood red twenty-four hours a day.
Dean always swears he can tell when it’s dark, that the red runs deeper, that he can still see the stars through it, shining down on them through the night.
Jess stares into the sky, letting Dean sleep what they assume to be the morning away, imagining she can see the stars beyond the bloody clouds. She remembers the shared birthdays of their youth; she never had a birthday alone, and Dean maintains he can't remember any he had.
They mark the passing of the years together, always.
“Careful, the sky might fall in,” Dean calls out.
It’s an old joke, one he used to say when she was young and genuinely scared the stars might fall in. She hears him struggling to walk toward her, but resists the urge to help him. He won't thank her for it and she isn't in the mood for an argument, not today. Dean slides his arms around her waist. He rests his face against hers, beard scratching her cheek.
Jess tilts her head just enough that their lips can meet, a kiss that isn't in any hurry to go anywhere. She’s careful not to press too tightly against him in case she pulls his bandages again. Dean won't complain even if she hurts him.
Dean pulls back, looking past her head and crinkling his eyes. Jess follows his gaze. There’s only brush as far as she can see, lightning strikes in the distance marking the horizon.
“What is it?”
“Might happen today,” Dean says, and his tone is only half bitter. He wants to be there, fighting until the end, going out in a blaze of glory. If he were able to walk properly, able to fight, he would be.
If Jess hadn't begged him to take care of himself, he would be.
Jess is pleased he isn't. If it is the end, this is exactly where she wants to be. She tugs away from him. “Eat now?”
Dean agrees. He sets up a small fire and they cook the fish in a silence marked only by the faint roar of the fighting in the distance. As they finish eating, Dean grins. It’s the grin that got them into trouble with Dad countless times. The grin that made Jess finally give in to her impulses, on her nineteenth birthday, and lean forward and kiss him.
“Got a s'prise,” Dean says, and he hobbles to his bag. He stops twice on the way, placing his hand on his hip, pain washing over his face but chased away by sheer determination. He brings out a can, and throws it toward her. ”Catch.”
“It's beer.” Jess turns it over in her hands. It’s been six months since she saw beer. The only alcohol they have is clear spirits, kept for washing knives or wounds. “How did you get this?”
“My immense charm.” Dean spreads his arms wide and nearly overbalances with the effort. He nods at the couch, the lone piece of furniture in the room, and Jess meets him there, sinking down with him into it.
She cracks the can open, the accompanying hiss loud. She offers Dean first sip and he takes it, wiping the back of his mouth when droplets catch on his beard. They pass the can back and forth, stretching out the alcohol as long as possible. It’s been so long since she's drunk any, that Jess imagines the alcohol infusing her bones already.
“One swig left,” Dean says. He holds the beer out and Jess shakes her head. That should be his. Dean shrugs and places the can carefully on the floor, saving the mouthful for goodness knows when.
Jess laughs, but doesn't have time to tease him about it because Dean is leaning back, and into her, until she’s tasting the alcohol on his tongue. He pulls off her shirt, and he isn't careful like usual, with not enough clothes to go around. He rips it off, the top button popping and bouncing across the room.
She shifts up, meeting a spring with the small of her back, but it lets her brush her breasts into Dean's face, and he chuckles as he mouths them. Heat pools in her body, delicious, aching need building with every lick Dean gives. Impatience builds with her desire, but she doesn’t rush him. Who knows how much time they have, maybe no time to do this again, she’ll let Dean take his time.
Dean pauses, catches her gaze and winks, before finally shifting his kisses down her body. He pulls her pants off next, moves to mouth her pussy through her worn panties, then tugs those down too, licking and sending her soaring. Jess is dimly aware of a roaring in the distance, like ten Impalas racing toward them; it’s either that or the blood raging in her ears, she isn't sure which.
Jess reaches, grasps at his shoulders, pulls at his shirt, forgetting to be careful until he lets out a hiss of pain. She stops then, lets him shed his clothes carefully before she pulls him back down. He settles back between her legs, giving her that look that asks if she is ready and she grins her response, rocking upward, grinding her hips into his cock. He thrusts into her, and she cradles his shoulders with her hands, touching his deep scars with the tips of her fingers.
She comes before him, squeezing, shuddering around him, and she’s still riding the wave when he comes, emptying himself into her. He leans down, hugs her, whispers, “There's nowhere else I'd rather be.”
That's when she hears the crack, louder than a hundred bolts of thunder.
Jess knows the stars really are falling in.
****
Feedback is welcomed.