Consequences
Title: Consequences
Author: xephwrites
Pairings: Dean/OMC, Sam
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 2232
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: None
Summary: Dean is at Stanford to visit Sam during his first year. Old feelings reappear, making Sam jealous of his roommate
Warnings: Vague Wincest references, angst, unrequited, mild voyeurism
Notes: Written for the spnpromptcake's Welcome Back Supernatural Comment meme. The prompt was Episode Title: Skin Prompt: One of Sam's Stanford buddies flirts openly/agressively with Dean while Sam watches. Dean is attracted to the stranger and oblivious to Sam's feelings for his brother. One night stand.
~*~*~*~*~
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam hissed at his roommate Chris. Sam grabbed the tap in the keg roughly and poured himself another beer. Chris laughed and slapped Sam on the shoulder.
“Whassamatter?” he said drunkenly. “”S not like it’s the end of the world.”
Sam rolled his eyes and walked away from his roommate. It wasn’t the end of the world. His roommate is just hitting on his Dean.
Dean, who lied to Dad to come out here to visit Sam during the winter break his first year of university, currently sleeping on the floor of his dorm room. Dean, who came to see him, not get into other people’s pants.
Dean, who Sam desperately wanted.
Sam slouched in the corner of the frat house they had been invited to and watched the party. He had no desire to join the frat, but the guys seemed to like him hanging around, so he was invited to every party.
He looked above the crowd and watched Chris hand Dean a beer in one of those red plastic cups. Dean downed half of it in one go. Chris stayed close to Dean, whispering in his ear.
“Sam, wasn’t that ethics essay a killer?” One of his female classmates asked, sitting on the arm of the chair Sam was standing beside.
“Yeah,” Sam mumbled. She started going on about something that Sam tuned out. He kept nodding politely, and stared at Chris and Dean.
Dean had removed his leather jacket, revealing a grey t-shirt. It was tight across his chest, showing every bump of muscle. He’s gotten a bit bulkier since the last time they saw each other. Sam eyed the not quite tan skin of Dean’s arm as he braced it on a bookshelf. His fingers drummed idly to the music pouring through the house.
Dean was so wrapped up in what Chris was saying, he didn’t notice Sam staring. A bit of anger surged in the pit of Sam’s stomach. Dean always knew when Sam was looking at him.
“Don’t you agree?” The girl beside him asked. Sam shrugged and took another drink of his beer.
“So you think that people who make bad decisions shouldn’t rely on others to help them? That they should suffer the consequences on their own?” Sam let out a short, bitter laugh.
“Story of my fucking life,” he muttered more to himself than her.
“Sammy, don’t do this,” Dean pleaded. Sam adjusted the duffel over his shoulder.
“I need to go, Dean. I can’t hunt for the rest of my life,” Sam said for the tenth time that night. “I need to make something for myself.”
“So you’re just going to leave me after everything I’ve done for you,” Dean snarled, hiding his pain with anger.
“Dammit, Dean, this isn’t just about you!” Sam shot back. “You always told me that you wanted something better for me than this. Here’s my chance, and you want me to throw it away?”
Dean kicked the wall of the run down house they were squatting in. He muttered something Sam couldn’t quite hear.
“What?” Sam asked.
“I said that I wanted better for us, Sammy,” Dean said, kicking the wall harder. A few chunks of plaster hit the floor. “It was supposed to be us, not you abandoning your family!”
“I’m not abandoning you! I’m going to school for christsakes!” Sam shouted. Dean lunged forward. Sam took an instinctive step backwards, expecting a punch. Instead Dean was pulling on Sam’s collar, kissing him. Dean’s lips were soft and desperate. Sam pushed him away.
“Stay, Sammy,” Dean whispered. “Please.” Sam shook his head.
“No Dean,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t want that, I don’t want any of this.”
And Sam left.
Truth is Sam wanted Dean. He’s always wanted him. That was their only kiss, and Sam replays it in his mind all the time. But he was scared, and closed that door. At eighteen and realizing that you loved your brother in a way that’s very much immoral messes with your head badly.
He made the wrong choice, and he was left to deal.
Dean leaned over to Chris to say something. Sam didn’t miss the slight nuzzle that Dean gave him as he whispered something to his roommate.
Anger and jealousy burned in the pit of his stomach as he watched Chris run his hand along the edge of Dean’s shirt, lifting it so a small patch of pale skin was shown. Sam handed his beer to the girl who was still friggen talking and left.
As he made his way to the sidewalk, he was expecting to hear Dean calling after him. He even slowed his pace, giving him a chance to catch up. But Dean didn’t leave the party.
Disappointment joined the anger and jealousy, twisting Sam’s stomach in a near painful knot.
He jammed his hands into his pockets and kept his head down all the way to the dorm. He’s pretty sure some people tried to talk to him, but his only thought was getting back to his bed.
“Can I help you?” Chris asked the person who just banged on their door at six am. Sam sat up, years of training making him instantly aware. He heard a familiar voice coming from the hallway. “Yeah, well, if you’re not who you say you are, I’m calling the cops.”
Chris turned to Sam and pointed.
“This asshole claims to be your brother,” he said before flopping face first onto his bed. “If he is, you fucking owe me,” he said into the mattress. Sam flipped the comforter off his bed and sat up. He was halfway to the door when Dean poked his head into the room.
“Is he always this chipper, Sammy?” Dean asked with a smirk. Dean kicked the door shut and held his arms open.
“Jesus, Dean,” Sam said, hugging his brother. “Ever hear of calling ahead?” Dean pulled away and pulled a hex bag out of his pocket. He tossed it at Sam, who quickly hid it under his pillow.
“You know me, I love the element of surprise,” Dean drawled as he flopped into one of the desk chairs.
“Sam, you and your brother are hot and all, but I have an exam in three hours, and I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk,” Chris grumbled, shoving his head under his pillow. The brothers laughed and Sam opened a dresser drawer.
“Yeah, we’ll leave,” Sam said, dressing in a long sleeved shirt and torn jeans. He was sliding his shoes on when Dean made a disgusted noise.
“Flip-flops?” He asked, shaking his head. “Dude, school has done nothing for your tastes.”
“I will vomit on one of you if you don’t leave in the next thirty seconds,” Chris said from under the pillow. Sam grabbed his keys and wallet off one of the desks and ushered Dean towards the door.
“He’s not serious, is he?” Dean asked over his shoulder.
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to stay and find out,” Sam said as they left the room.
They made their way to the cafeteria on the ground floor of the residence. Sam handed his meal card to the half asleep lady at the cash register and held up two fingers. She barely stifled a yawn as she swiped the card and hit a few buttons on the computer. She handed the card back and they went in.
Dean whistled as he looked around the cafeteria.
“Buffet in the building, that’s pretty sweet,” Dean said, grabbing a tray. They made their way around to the different counters, getting their food. Dean piled the tray high. Sam shook his head.
“Save some for the students, you bottomless pit,” Sam said, making himself a tea.
“Haven’t eaten since Spokane,” Dean said, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth. He looked at Sam’s tea and snorted.
Dean went for four laps around the cafeteria before they actually started talking.
“So why are you here?” Sam asked, tearing another napkin into nice little squares.
“What, a guy can’t visit his brother?” Dean said as he shoved the last of his pancake into his mouth.
“Why didn’t you call? And I’m not talking about today, I mean since I got here?” Sam asked, trying not to sound whiney.
“You could have called me,” Dean said, downing the last of his coffee.
“I did,” Sam said, piling the small napkin squares in front of him on the table.
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t easy,” Dean mumbled, starting to fidget with the cuff of his leather jacket.
“Been thinking,” Sam said, taking a steadying breath. “About what happened the night I left.”
“You didn’t want it, case closed,” Dean said as he spun the empty coffee cup. “No point in talking about it.” Dean eyed the students starting to file in. “So, why don’t you show me around?” Dean asked as he blew the shredded napkins into Sam’s lap.
Three days. Dean has been here three days. After Chris sobered up and wrote his exam, he took to Dean instantly. A little too much for Sam’s liking.
Sam toed off his shoes, staring at the sleeping bag in between the two beds in the room. Several times, Sam tried to talk to Dean about the kiss. He wanted to tell Dean he made a mistake, and that he did want whatever was between them. But Dean kept avoiding it, telling Sam that the decision was made and that was that.
Sam slid into a pair of plaid pajama pants and buried himself under the comforter. He took the hex bag that Dean tossed at him when he got there. He smiled to himself. Even after him leaving, Dean still wanted nothing more than to protect his little brother.
Sam drifted in and out of sleep, as much as his mind would let him.
He was actually sleeping when he heard the door open. Sam heard the whispers and laughter of Chris and Dean. Someone kicked the chair, and the other one shushed with a giggle. Sam rolled his eyes, thankful that his back was to them.
“Don wanna wake Sammy,” he heard Dean say as jackets hit the floor. Sam heard something else, the soft smacking sound of kissing.
“He never wakes up,” Chris said a little more breathy than Sam’s used to. Sam tried not to laugh. Chris always woke him up.
“Whatever,” he heard Dean mumble. The sound of kissing started again. Sam’s stomach rolled.
Not here, please God, not here not now, Sam thought.
Sam squeezed his eyes shut when he heard Chris’ mattress groan under the weight of the two of them. Every hitched breath and barely there moans almost echoed in the small room. Sam felt like he was going to throw up, his stomach was clenched so much.
Sam had to stop himself from shouting at them when he heard the telltale crinkle of a condom being opened. Their breathing changed, and the bed began shifting rhythmically.
Sam rolled over quietly, pretty sure that they were too drunk and too involved to notice anything from Sam’s side of the room.
The light from the street below cast a light orange glow over everything. Dean’s bare skin shone in the light as his hips rolled, pushing himself into Chris. Sam stared as Chris’ hand slid down Dean’s broad back, pulling away from the scar that ran below his shoulder blade. Sam knew the scar well, being the one who stitched it up last year. Chris’ hands pulled away from every one of Dean’s scars like they burned him.
Sam’s eyes ran the long line of Dean’s back, down to his perfect ass, where Chris’ hands now rested. The small beads of sweat on Dean’s body caught the light and glistened.
Sam wanted to go over there and touch every part of Dean. He wouldn’t avoid the scars like Chris did. Sam knew that he would kiss and worship the marred skin of his brother. Sam imagined that Dean would taste like leather, engine oil, gunpowder and cheap laundry soap.
Sam knew that despite all the muscles, Dean’s skin was soft and smooth. He’s touched it enough over the years, patching him up. He knew all the freckles that dusted his shoulders.
Sam wanted, needed to feel that soft, muscled skin pressed up against his own. Sam bit his lip to keep from making any noise as he imagined Dean’s hands skating over his own skin.
Dean lifted Chris’ leg over his shoulder and kissed the knee. Sam caught a quick flick of Dean’s eyes, and his face burned.
Dean knew, he fucking knew Sam was awake and seeing this. His stomach twisted as he flipped onto his stomach and pulled the pillow over his head.
Sam felt like shit in the morning. He looked over to Chris’ bed. Chris was sprawled out naked on the bed, thankfully covered by the blanket and snoring. Sam looked down at the floor and the sleeping bag was gone. He sat up and looked around the room. Everything of Dean’s was gone.
His cell phone was flashing that he had a message. Sam flipped it open. It was a text message from Dean.
It was your choice was all it said.
The phone shattering against the door didn’t wake Chris.
~*~*~*~*~
Comments welcomed! And please join us for the Samhain/Oktoberfest/Halloween comment meme!
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Author: xephwrites
Pairings: Dean/OMC, Sam
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 2232
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. Just playing with toys that are not mine. I promise to return them (mostly) undamaged!
Spoilers: None
Summary: Dean is at Stanford to visit Sam during his first year. Old feelings reappear, making Sam jealous of his roommate
Warnings: Vague Wincest references, angst, unrequited, mild voyeurism
Notes: Written for the spnpromptcake's Welcome Back Supernatural Comment meme. The prompt was Episode Title: Skin Prompt: One of Sam's Stanford buddies flirts openly/agressively with Dean while Sam watches. Dean is attracted to the stranger and oblivious to Sam's feelings for his brother. One night stand.
~*~*~*~*~
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sam hissed at his roommate Chris. Sam grabbed the tap in the keg roughly and poured himself another beer. Chris laughed and slapped Sam on the shoulder.
“Whassamatter?” he said drunkenly. “”S not like it’s the end of the world.”
Sam rolled his eyes and walked away from his roommate. It wasn’t the end of the world. His roommate is just hitting on his Dean.
Dean, who lied to Dad to come out here to visit Sam during the winter break his first year of university, currently sleeping on the floor of his dorm room. Dean, who came to see him, not get into other people’s pants.
Dean, who Sam desperately wanted.
Sam slouched in the corner of the frat house they had been invited to and watched the party. He had no desire to join the frat, but the guys seemed to like him hanging around, so he was invited to every party.
He looked above the crowd and watched Chris hand Dean a beer in one of those red plastic cups. Dean downed half of it in one go. Chris stayed close to Dean, whispering in his ear.
“Sam, wasn’t that ethics essay a killer?” One of his female classmates asked, sitting on the arm of the chair Sam was standing beside.
“Yeah,” Sam mumbled. She started going on about something that Sam tuned out. He kept nodding politely, and stared at Chris and Dean.
Dean had removed his leather jacket, revealing a grey t-shirt. It was tight across his chest, showing every bump of muscle. He’s gotten a bit bulkier since the last time they saw each other. Sam eyed the not quite tan skin of Dean’s arm as he braced it on a bookshelf. His fingers drummed idly to the music pouring through the house.
Dean was so wrapped up in what Chris was saying, he didn’t notice Sam staring. A bit of anger surged in the pit of Sam’s stomach. Dean always knew when Sam was looking at him.
“Don’t you agree?” The girl beside him asked. Sam shrugged and took another drink of his beer.
“So you think that people who make bad decisions shouldn’t rely on others to help them? That they should suffer the consequences on their own?” Sam let out a short, bitter laugh.
“Story of my fucking life,” he muttered more to himself than her.
“Sammy, don’t do this,” Dean pleaded. Sam adjusted the duffel over his shoulder.
“I need to go, Dean. I can’t hunt for the rest of my life,” Sam said for the tenth time that night. “I need to make something for myself.”
“So you’re just going to leave me after everything I’ve done for you,” Dean snarled, hiding his pain with anger.
“Dammit, Dean, this isn’t just about you!” Sam shot back. “You always told me that you wanted something better for me than this. Here’s my chance, and you want me to throw it away?”
Dean kicked the wall of the run down house they were squatting in. He muttered something Sam couldn’t quite hear.
“What?” Sam asked.
“I said that I wanted better for us, Sammy,” Dean said, kicking the wall harder. A few chunks of plaster hit the floor. “It was supposed to be us, not you abandoning your family!”
“I’m not abandoning you! I’m going to school for christsakes!” Sam shouted. Dean lunged forward. Sam took an instinctive step backwards, expecting a punch. Instead Dean was pulling on Sam’s collar, kissing him. Dean’s lips were soft and desperate. Sam pushed him away.
“Stay, Sammy,” Dean whispered. “Please.” Sam shook his head.
“No Dean,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t want that, I don’t want any of this.”
And Sam left.
Truth is Sam wanted Dean. He’s always wanted him. That was their only kiss, and Sam replays it in his mind all the time. But he was scared, and closed that door. At eighteen and realizing that you loved your brother in a way that’s very much immoral messes with your head badly.
He made the wrong choice, and he was left to deal.
Dean leaned over to Chris to say something. Sam didn’t miss the slight nuzzle that Dean gave him as he whispered something to his roommate.
Anger and jealousy burned in the pit of his stomach as he watched Chris run his hand along the edge of Dean’s shirt, lifting it so a small patch of pale skin was shown. Sam handed his beer to the girl who was still friggen talking and left.
As he made his way to the sidewalk, he was expecting to hear Dean calling after him. He even slowed his pace, giving him a chance to catch up. But Dean didn’t leave the party.
Disappointment joined the anger and jealousy, twisting Sam’s stomach in a near painful knot.
He jammed his hands into his pockets and kept his head down all the way to the dorm. He’s pretty sure some people tried to talk to him, but his only thought was getting back to his bed.
“Can I help you?” Chris asked the person who just banged on their door at six am. Sam sat up, years of training making him instantly aware. He heard a familiar voice coming from the hallway. “Yeah, well, if you’re not who you say you are, I’m calling the cops.”
Chris turned to Sam and pointed.
“This asshole claims to be your brother,” he said before flopping face first onto his bed. “If he is, you fucking owe me,” he said into the mattress. Sam flipped the comforter off his bed and sat up. He was halfway to the door when Dean poked his head into the room.
“Is he always this chipper, Sammy?” Dean asked with a smirk. Dean kicked the door shut and held his arms open.
“Jesus, Dean,” Sam said, hugging his brother. “Ever hear of calling ahead?” Dean pulled away and pulled a hex bag out of his pocket. He tossed it at Sam, who quickly hid it under his pillow.
“You know me, I love the element of surprise,” Dean drawled as he flopped into one of the desk chairs.
“Sam, you and your brother are hot and all, but I have an exam in three hours, and I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk,” Chris grumbled, shoving his head under his pillow. The brothers laughed and Sam opened a dresser drawer.
“Yeah, we’ll leave,” Sam said, dressing in a long sleeved shirt and torn jeans. He was sliding his shoes on when Dean made a disgusted noise.
“Flip-flops?” He asked, shaking his head. “Dude, school has done nothing for your tastes.”
“I will vomit on one of you if you don’t leave in the next thirty seconds,” Chris said from under the pillow. Sam grabbed his keys and wallet off one of the desks and ushered Dean towards the door.
“He’s not serious, is he?” Dean asked over his shoulder.
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to stay and find out,” Sam said as they left the room.
They made their way to the cafeteria on the ground floor of the residence. Sam handed his meal card to the half asleep lady at the cash register and held up two fingers. She barely stifled a yawn as she swiped the card and hit a few buttons on the computer. She handed the card back and they went in.
Dean whistled as he looked around the cafeteria.
“Buffet in the building, that’s pretty sweet,” Dean said, grabbing a tray. They made their way around to the different counters, getting their food. Dean piled the tray high. Sam shook his head.
“Save some for the students, you bottomless pit,” Sam said, making himself a tea.
“Haven’t eaten since Spokane,” Dean said, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth. He looked at Sam’s tea and snorted.
Dean went for four laps around the cafeteria before they actually started talking.
“So why are you here?” Sam asked, tearing another napkin into nice little squares.
“What, a guy can’t visit his brother?” Dean said as he shoved the last of his pancake into his mouth.
“Why didn’t you call? And I’m not talking about today, I mean since I got here?” Sam asked, trying not to sound whiney.
“You could have called me,” Dean said, downing the last of his coffee.
“I did,” Sam said, piling the small napkin squares in front of him on the table.
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t easy,” Dean mumbled, starting to fidget with the cuff of his leather jacket.
“Been thinking,” Sam said, taking a steadying breath. “About what happened the night I left.”
“You didn’t want it, case closed,” Dean said as he spun the empty coffee cup. “No point in talking about it.” Dean eyed the students starting to file in. “So, why don’t you show me around?” Dean asked as he blew the shredded napkins into Sam’s lap.
Three days. Dean has been here three days. After Chris sobered up and wrote his exam, he took to Dean instantly. A little too much for Sam’s liking.
Sam toed off his shoes, staring at the sleeping bag in between the two beds in the room. Several times, Sam tried to talk to Dean about the kiss. He wanted to tell Dean he made a mistake, and that he did want whatever was between them. But Dean kept avoiding it, telling Sam that the decision was made and that was that.
Sam slid into a pair of plaid pajama pants and buried himself under the comforter. He took the hex bag that Dean tossed at him when he got there. He smiled to himself. Even after him leaving, Dean still wanted nothing more than to protect his little brother.
Sam drifted in and out of sleep, as much as his mind would let him.
He was actually sleeping when he heard the door open. Sam heard the whispers and laughter of Chris and Dean. Someone kicked the chair, and the other one shushed with a giggle. Sam rolled his eyes, thankful that his back was to them.
“Don wanna wake Sammy,” he heard Dean say as jackets hit the floor. Sam heard something else, the soft smacking sound of kissing.
“He never wakes up,” Chris said a little more breathy than Sam’s used to. Sam tried not to laugh. Chris always woke him up.
“Whatever,” he heard Dean mumble. The sound of kissing started again. Sam’s stomach rolled.
Not here, please God, not here not now, Sam thought.
Sam squeezed his eyes shut when he heard Chris’ mattress groan under the weight of the two of them. Every hitched breath and barely there moans almost echoed in the small room. Sam felt like he was going to throw up, his stomach was clenched so much.
Sam had to stop himself from shouting at them when he heard the telltale crinkle of a condom being opened. Their breathing changed, and the bed began shifting rhythmically.
Sam rolled over quietly, pretty sure that they were too drunk and too involved to notice anything from Sam’s side of the room.
The light from the street below cast a light orange glow over everything. Dean’s bare skin shone in the light as his hips rolled, pushing himself into Chris. Sam stared as Chris’ hand slid down Dean’s broad back, pulling away from the scar that ran below his shoulder blade. Sam knew the scar well, being the one who stitched it up last year. Chris’ hands pulled away from every one of Dean’s scars like they burned him.
Sam’s eyes ran the long line of Dean’s back, down to his perfect ass, where Chris’ hands now rested. The small beads of sweat on Dean’s body caught the light and glistened.
Sam wanted to go over there and touch every part of Dean. He wouldn’t avoid the scars like Chris did. Sam knew that he would kiss and worship the marred skin of his brother. Sam imagined that Dean would taste like leather, engine oil, gunpowder and cheap laundry soap.
Sam knew that despite all the muscles, Dean’s skin was soft and smooth. He’s touched it enough over the years, patching him up. He knew all the freckles that dusted his shoulders.
Sam wanted, needed to feel that soft, muscled skin pressed up against his own. Sam bit his lip to keep from making any noise as he imagined Dean’s hands skating over his own skin.
Dean lifted Chris’ leg over his shoulder and kissed the knee. Sam caught a quick flick of Dean’s eyes, and his face burned.
Dean knew, he fucking knew Sam was awake and seeing this. His stomach twisted as he flipped onto his stomach and pulled the pillow over his head.
Sam felt like shit in the morning. He looked over to Chris’ bed. Chris was sprawled out naked on the bed, thankfully covered by the blanket and snoring. Sam looked down at the floor and the sleeping bag was gone. He sat up and looked around the room. Everything of Dean’s was gone.
His cell phone was flashing that he had a message. Sam flipped it open. It was a text message from Dean.
It was your choice was all it said.
The phone shattering against the door didn’t wake Chris.
~*~*~*~*~
Comments welcomed! And please join us for the Samhain/Oktoberfest/Halloween comment meme!
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