Fic :: Supernatural :: I Scratched a Heart Around Your Name
I Scratched a Heart Around Your Name
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam/shapeshifter!Dean
Warning: Dub-con
Summary: 1x06 Skin missing scene.
Posting date: February 2008
Title from Lovers' People in Car Don't Face Each Other.
*
Sam’s aware of the rope before he’s aware of being awake. There’s one sick, lurching moment where he’s thinking Jess even as the panic sets in, his head pounding and the memories of hot huffs of her laughter against his skin as she wrapped her scarf around his wrists and whispered ‘Got you’. The grief pinches him tight, but it clears his head, and he can work with that.
He’s on the floor, hands tied tightly. There’s someone, something, moving close by, footsteps and the scrape of metal. He keeps his eyes closed and his face lax, breathing slow as he tests the strength of the knots around his wrists and ankles. They hold fast. He can feel his skin rubbing away.
“Up and at ‘em, sleepyhead. I can always tell when you’re faking.” Dean’s voice speaking Dean’s words, but Sam can tell with just one look that it isn’t him. Something in the teeth, or the set of the shoulders, or- oh yeah- the way it’s standing over him with a really big fucking knife.
Sam spits out, “Asshole,” to the taste of blood.
The shapeshifter chuckles, hunkering down on the floor. “That’s no way to talk to your brother.” It’s smiling, just a little, as it presses the edge of the knife to his forehead and traces down. The point is a slide of ice, so sharp Sam can’t tell if the skin is breaking. He holds his breath.
It’s Dean’s face watching him intently, but the smile is purely the shapeshifter’s own, slow and predatory. “I cannot believe how big you’ve gotten, Sammy. Seems like only yesterday I was towering over you.” It taps a finger to its temples, other hand steady around the knife at Sam’s throat. “Look at you, so big and strong. Dean hates it.”
The knifepoint pulls away a fraction. Sam jerks his head back, and the impact with the floor shakes stars into his vision, reverberates all through his jaw. Dean’s- its fingers catch hold of his chin, holding him steady. “You’re supposed to be the little brother,” the shapeshifter murmurs, crouching down until Dean’s face is all he can see. “How’m I meant to protect you now?”
“You’re not him,” Sam snarls. He shakes his head away and its hand follows, grip on his chin tightening until the nails dig in. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, you’re not exactly protecting me either.”
The shapeshifter tilts Sam’s head back, turning his face towards it. It’s knelt so close Sam can feel the heat of Dean’s body pressed all along his side, and the look in its eyes is pornographic. The hand on his face slides down to his shoulder, presses him back against the floorboards, as it leans down to whisper in his ear, words hot and damp. “Why’ve you gotta fight me, Sammy? Why’ve you always gotta fight me?”
“Maybe it’s because you’re a shapeshifter-” He’s cut off abruptly by its, Dean’s, its lips against his jaw. His mouth stays hanging open, words on the tip of his tongue as his thoughts shut down. The shapeshifter breathes out slowly, smiling Dean’s smile, and slides a leg over Sam’s hips until it’s straddling him.
He can feel the pinprick of the knife against his stomach, holding him in place.
“I’m Dean, Sam.” Its words ghost his skin. “I could be. For you.”
He twists away, grinds out, “No, you couldn’t,” and the shapeshifter follows the turn of his head. It presses Dean’s lips to the corner of Sam’s own, mouths against his skin. Sam stares up at the patch of ceiling over his head as its tongue slides in. The hand on his chest is trembling, just a little.
“Oh Sammy,” it whispers in his brother’s voice. “You have no idea.”
Dean will be here soon, Sam thinks. He closes his eyes and waits.
*
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam/shapeshifter!Dean
Warning: Dub-con
Summary: 1x06 Skin missing scene.
Posting date: February 2008
Title from Lovers' People in Car Don't Face Each Other.
*
Sam’s aware of the rope before he’s aware of being awake. There’s one sick, lurching moment where he’s thinking Jess even as the panic sets in, his head pounding and the memories of hot huffs of her laughter against his skin as she wrapped her scarf around his wrists and whispered ‘Got you’. The grief pinches him tight, but it clears his head, and he can work with that.
He’s on the floor, hands tied tightly. There’s someone, something, moving close by, footsteps and the scrape of metal. He keeps his eyes closed and his face lax, breathing slow as he tests the strength of the knots around his wrists and ankles. They hold fast. He can feel his skin rubbing away.
“Up and at ‘em, sleepyhead. I can always tell when you’re faking.” Dean’s voice speaking Dean’s words, but Sam can tell with just one look that it isn’t him. Something in the teeth, or the set of the shoulders, or- oh yeah- the way it’s standing over him with a really big fucking knife.
Sam spits out, “Asshole,” to the taste of blood.
The shapeshifter chuckles, hunkering down on the floor. “That’s no way to talk to your brother.” It’s smiling, just a little, as it presses the edge of the knife to his forehead and traces down. The point is a slide of ice, so sharp Sam can’t tell if the skin is breaking. He holds his breath.
It’s Dean’s face watching him intently, but the smile is purely the shapeshifter’s own, slow and predatory. “I cannot believe how big you’ve gotten, Sammy. Seems like only yesterday I was towering over you.” It taps a finger to its temples, other hand steady around the knife at Sam’s throat. “Look at you, so big and strong. Dean hates it.”
The knifepoint pulls away a fraction. Sam jerks his head back, and the impact with the floor shakes stars into his vision, reverberates all through his jaw. Dean’s- its fingers catch hold of his chin, holding him steady. “You’re supposed to be the little brother,” the shapeshifter murmurs, crouching down until Dean’s face is all he can see. “How’m I meant to protect you now?”
“You’re not him,” Sam snarls. He shakes his head away and its hand follows, grip on his chin tightening until the nails dig in. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, you’re not exactly protecting me either.”
The shapeshifter tilts Sam’s head back, turning his face towards it. It’s knelt so close Sam can feel the heat of Dean’s body pressed all along his side, and the look in its eyes is pornographic. The hand on his face slides down to his shoulder, presses him back against the floorboards, as it leans down to whisper in his ear, words hot and damp. “Why’ve you gotta fight me, Sammy? Why’ve you always gotta fight me?”
“Maybe it’s because you’re a shapeshifter-” He’s cut off abruptly by its, Dean’s, its lips against his jaw. His mouth stays hanging open, words on the tip of his tongue as his thoughts shut down. The shapeshifter breathes out slowly, smiling Dean’s smile, and slides a leg over Sam’s hips until it’s straddling him.
He can feel the pinprick of the knife against his stomach, holding him in place.
“I’m Dean, Sam.” Its words ghost his skin. “I could be. For you.”
He twists away, grinds out, “No, you couldn’t,” and the shapeshifter follows the turn of his head. It presses Dean’s lips to the corner of Sam’s own, mouths against his skin. Sam stares up at the patch of ceiling over his head as its tongue slides in. The hand on his chest is trembling, just a little.
“Oh Sammy,” it whispers in his brother’s voice. “You have no idea.”
Dean will be here soon, Sam thinks. He closes his eyes and waits.
*