SPN RPS FIC: To Destroy Me and You (R, Jared/Jensen)
So, here's the deal. This was originally part of one of my two ideas for Big Bang which was abandoned to sit on my harddrive, occasionally kicking up dust in my head. I am posting this now for three reasons: 1) I unapologetically like it as a oneshot, 2) I don't need any other epic to distract me from RL when I have two too many to be working on anyway, and 3) a big part of the story was about the boys having to move in together in order to get steadily gayer, and whatdyaknow? I go away for a summer and I'm apparently not writing fiction anymore. *hands*
Title: To Destroy Me and You
Rating: R (faux rape! faux incest! real feelings!)
Summary: Evil!Sam rapes Dean and the catch? Jared and Jensen are the ones having to act it out on film. ~1,800 words.
Notes: Depicts rape. Once upon a time, ze_pink_lady looked over this and pronounced it not entirely terrible, so much thanks to her. ♥
The soundstage is done up in a mock-up of a motel room; a little too dusty, stained sheets on the bed and fake watery sunlight streaming through a broken blind. One of the windows is smashed, glass shards scattered on the desk below, winking in the light.
They get into position.
Jensen doesn’t look comfortable, shifting his weight from one bare foot to the other, arms folded tightly and making his muscles bunch. His hair is slicked with a combination of water and wet-look gel, his chest bare, and he’s standing on the threshold of the bathroom, as if he’s just coming out. Jared wants to smile to ease the tension - crack a joke or something - but he doesn’t. He’s not like Jensen, can’t swing in and out of character on whim. Not for something like this, anyway. Right now Sam is thrumming through his veins and he thinks (hopes) it’s gonna make this whole thing a little easier.
“Right,” Mark says. “Let’s give this a go then, shall we?”
Jared waits for the clapper, nods, and it’s Sam who stalks across the room.
“You think this is a game, Dean?” he says, soft. Dean flinches, like he’s startled by Sam’s sudden appearance. He doesn’t take a step back, though. “You think this is hide and seek and you find me and the prize is I don’t get to kill you?”
“Sam,” Dean says. His eyes are broken wide open but his jaw is resolutely set. “Come on, man. What did you think, that I was just gonna give up on you?”
“That was the idea.”
“Yeah?” Dean says, suddenly angry. “Well fuck that.” He moves to the duffel sitting on the chair in the corner and rummages jerkily around inside of it. Pulling out a t-shirt, he glares at Sam. “And fuck you. What were you thinking, huh, Sam? Fucking cops? You’re gone, what - six days? Six lousy days without me and you’re killing cops now? Screw the apocalypse, when we get you out of this, it’ll be the goddamn cop killer they’ll be coming after, you idiot.”
He drags the t-shirt over his head, smearing his damp hair flatly down onto his forehead. It makes him look younger somehow, with the hem of the shirt pulled down over the towel skirting his waist. Sam narrows his eyes. Then he laughs, long and hard and brutal, and Dean just stares at him, a frown line creased between his eyebrows.
“What?” he snaps.
Then Sam’s moving, so quick Dean doesn’t have time to pull away. Sam’s fingers find Dean’s throat and he physically hauls Dean over to him, pushes him hard back against the wall, his eyes on his face, Dean’s pulse fluttering against his thumb --
The camera gets right in close, manned by a guy in a green cap, and Jared’s concentration breaks. Jensen’s looking back at him with Dean’s face on, his eyes wide and his hands already coming up to grasp at Jared’s wrist. Jared holds it for a moment, thinking about the edits, and then breaks away.
“Sorry,” he says, turning around, frustrated. “I lost it.”
“Keep rolling,” Mark says, from somewhere just beyond the lights flooding the soundstage. “Just take your time, Jared. It’s looking great.”
“Pussy,” Jensen says, behind him. It comes out a little throaty. “Knew you’d be nervous trying to tap this fine piece of ass, Jay. Knew it.”
“Oh yeah?” Jared turns to raise an eyebrow at him.
Jensen smirks and it’s strained, but something tense inside of Jared uncoils anyway.
“Say goodbye to the lube then, bitch.”
“I heard with little dicks it’s not necessary anyway,” Jensen says, with a shrug.
Jared snorts laughter, shakes his head. This is normal, he tells himself, just the two of them, another day’s work, and he’ll be damned if Jensen can manage to be professional about all this and he can’t. He breathes deeply and shuts his eyes, groping for Sam again. Nodding, he steps right back into Jensen’s space and wraps his hand loosely around his throat.
Jensen’s skin is warm to the touch.
“Okay,” he says. “Let’s do this.” Steadily, he tightens his grip and watches Jensen become Dean again, fingers working to try and escape Sam’s hold. Dean’s not panicked. Not yet.
“You need to grow up,” Sam snarls. “Look around you, Dean. You still think you’re getting me out of this one?” He presses forward, breathes hot against Dean’s skin, says softly, “The best thing is, I don’t even want you to anymore.”
Something hitches beneath his fingers. Dean stops struggling and just hangs against him, staring.
“No,” he says, gruffly. “No. You listening to me, Sammy? You’ve got to keep fighting this. Both of us together, we can do anything. We can fucking beat hell together.”
Sam stretches a smile across his face and shakes his head. “I want you to leave, Dean,” he says, soft and cruel. “Right now. I want you to get your stuff and get in the car and drive. And if I find you following me again, I will kill you.”
A muscle jumps at Dean’s temple. “I’m not giving up on you.”
“No?”
Dean raises his chin.
Sam cocks his head, just studying him for a moment. “Fine,” he says, abruptly. “If that’s the way you want it.”
Dean tenses - premature, Jared’s brain tells him, because Dean shouldn’t have a clue about what’s coming - and Jared’s suddenly right there, back on the soundstage, because he knows that movement. Knows it from long hours with the stunt coordinators, learning how to fall right, how to take punches. Knows it because that’s Jensen, not Dean: Jensen tensing against what he knows is coming, not Dean waiting to find out.
Just a hiccup, Jared tells himself, jerking his mind away from where it wants to go. He has no room to consider what Jensen’s thinking right now, what he’s feeling. Ignore it.
Forcing himself back into Sam, he wrenches Dean around, mashing his face up into the wall and grabbing one of his wrists, twisting it up behind his back. Dean arches backwards with a curse of pain, struggling, trying to free himself.
He hasn’t got a hope in hell, Sam knows.
With the grip on his wrist and a hand on his shoulder, Sam levers Dean away from the wall and barrels him forwards, towards the bed. Dean pulls back, tries to kick out at him, tries to yank away, snarling and twisting to no effect. Sam neatly takes his feet out from under him, going down with Dean as he falls onto the mattress, knocking the breath clean out of him.
“If I’ve gotta force you to remember I’m not your brother anymore,” he says, over Dean’s ragged cursing, “I will.”
He puts a hand between them, dragging the t-shirt up, the towel down. The brush of his fingers against warm flesh and Christ, Jared’s brain stutters as his fingers freeze. That’s his hand against Jensen’s bare ass. He struggles to keep a hold of Sam, the rage, the darkness, and it’s like trying to catch water in a sieve. It slithers through his mind, impossibly out of reach. A camera moves up behind him and Jared remembers what Mark had said he wanted for the shot. Jensen is still struggling against him, bucking up and almost unseating him, and it kick-starts Jared’s motor reflexes again. He presses down, trying to contain all of that energy between the mattress and his chest, like he can somehow squash Jensen into acquiescence. It works, sort of, and it gives Jared enough space to work the towel all the way down, dragging it out from between their bodies to let it drop at one side.
We’re spoon feeding them, Mark had said. With the towel out the way, no one could deny what was about to happen.
Beneath him, Jensen’s naked from the waist down, protected from the camera lens by Jared’s own bulk. It makes Jared feel a little better, like the viewers may see rape but they won’t see Jensen, and it’s a small thing, he knows, but better than clutching at nothing at all. He’ll keep Jensen safe from that.
“Get off me, Sam. Get the hell off me.”
It’s still Dean beneath him, fighting for breath and tiring, throwing out orders like it might mean something, still unable to accept the reality of the situation. It makes Jared feel dirty, like some sort of pervert, pretending to be Sam when his grasp on his own character has never been so out of reach. Pretending to be Sam when Jensen doesn’t know it’s Jared behind him: Jared who’s keeping him pinned, Jared who stripped him down.
Jared wants to call timeout. Wants the chance to get back into the right headspace, get the barrier of Sam up between him and Jensen again. Getting up now, though, would just mean having to get back into position later, and he’s not sure either of them would manage it. The quicker this is over, he tells himself, the better.
He can do this.
He shifts his weight harder down and pulls back a little, fumbling one-handed at his belt. The metal clink of his buckle as it comes undone sounds too loud throughout the room, and suddenly Jensen - Dean - is struggling like a wild thing against him, not holding back at all. Jared almost loses his balance, and he knows how Sam would react. Growling, he uses all his weight and height advantage to ride Jensen back into the mattress, using every trick he knows to keep him there. Beneath him, Jensen’s sucking in air, and it almost feels good, Jared thinks, like any of their impromptu wrestling matches, adrenaline coursing through him, his heart pounding with victory.
Of course, Jensen’s not normally bare-assed. The thought sends a spike of something hot and dangerous through Jared. Stubbornly ignoring it, he gets his jeans open and drags them down, the waistline riding somewhere halfway down his ass, the elastic of his boxers caught beneath his dick.
Skin against skin, now. The body beneath him shudders.
“Sam, no.” The words are soft and desperate.
From the corner of his eye, Jared can see a second camera focused on Jensen’s face. He shifts his grip like they’d practiced, dragging both of Jensen’s arms up and pinning his wrists together above his head in one hand. With his other, he smoothes through Jensen’s hair, damp and a little sticky from the gel, ever so gentle.
“Don’t underestimate me, Dean,” he says, as he moves his hand down to catch at the crook of Jensen’s knee, the skin beneath his fingers tacky with sweat. He exerts pressure, steadily forcing Jensen’s legs apart. “Next time, you’ll be dead.”
He ruts forward and Jensen chokes down on a broken, miserable noise, something like Jared’s never heard before.
He knows it’s the sound of Dean being torn apart.