Northbound Countdown 7/10 (Dean/Misha, Dean/Cas)
Title: Northbound Countdown 7/10 (a/k/a 3.8.2009, 4 Days until SPN returns from break.)
Author: Nikki Loza (a/k/acalcium_yeah )
Disclaimer: A collection of people own Supernatural and its characters. Misha owns himself. I own nothing.
Rating: R
Fandom: Supernatural/RPS
Genre/ Pairing: Slash. Dean/Misha. Contemplation of Dean/Castiel.
Spoilers: Takes place post-4x11 Sex and Violence.
Warnings: WIP written live over 10 days, so you may wish to wait until the end if you would like the full, edited version. Thoughts of angel porn.
Summary: Dean and Sam are at Misha’s house trying to determine if the actor is Castiel’s vessel. 10 day Dean/Misha countdown to Supernatural's return from winter break.
Misha’s couch was not large enough to accommodate two grown men writhing atop one another and Dean had to rest one leg on the floor and one on top of Misha’s own closely pressed legs, making their scramble to open each other’s pants clumsy and tight.
Dean pushed Misha’s hands away and lifted himself slightly, hooking into the top of Misha’s open jeans and pulling them down as the actor attempted to assist him by squirming from side to side. Once the pants were below his thighs, the hunter sat back down and gripped the other man’s growing erection through the opening in his boxer briefs.
The angle made Dean’s motion’s awkward, but he tried to move his wrist in the hard, steady motion that he liked himself as blue eyes watched him with unwavering attention. It was odd, looking at that face beneath him, squinting with lust instead of curiosity, mouth open and breath coming out in stunted, rhythm-less gasps when he couldn’t remember if Cas had ever breathed at all.
Misha reached up to grip Dean’s arm and his palm covered the handprint imprinted on the hunter’s skin. Dean groaned, dropping his weight onto the man below him and subconsciously squeezing harder, eliciting a grunt as his hand broke into an unsteady spazzing motion.
The sound of a throat clearing took a few seconds to register in Dean’s brain before he remembered that he and Misha were in the middle of an open room and that Sam had just stepped outside to take a phonecall.
“Jared! We seem to have uh-huh forgotten you were here.” Misha choked out and Dean pulled back and turned to see Sam looking at them on the couch as if he were trying to work out a way that their position could mean anything other than what it obviously did.
Sam’s eyes lowered to where the two men were still touching and Dean hurried to zip his pants, keeping his own eyes directed towards the floor, which didn’t help the situation as it gave him a nice view of how much his jeans were still poking out around the zipper region.
“Can I talk to you in the kitchen?” Sam kept his eyes trained on Dean. “Now.”
Dean nodded and patted Misha’s thigh reassuringly, moving to step away from where he had been straddling their host, but being pulled back down.
“Is everything okay? With you two?” Misha pointed between Sam and Dean and the older Winchester brother clasped his waiving finger and brought it to settle between them.
“He probably just wants to make sure I’m not taking advantage of your hospitality.” Dean smirked unconvincingly.
“Alright.” Misha nodded and let go, trying to catch Sam’s attention, but frowning when the other man deliberately avoided his gaze.
Dean followed his brother into the kitchen, licking his lips nervously and still tasting traces of the lemonade that Misha had been drinking that evening. Sam gripped the edge of the counter and Dean wondered in passing if his little brother was grinding notches into the wood as they stood there.
“What happened, Dean, you run out of random women to have one night stands with when we’re supposed to be on a hunt?”
“It’s not what it looked like.” Dean hated the words as soon as they left his mouth, knowing how stupid they sounded.
“Aw, the brother I know could come up with a way better excuse than that.”
“It’s not an excuse, Sam, you know me! I don’t do....things like this.” Dean pointed over his shoulder in the general direction of Misha’s living room.
“What don’t you do, men? Because you do stuff exactly like this all the time if we’re not talking about gender.”
“I really don’t want to have this conversation with you right now.”
“Okay, ignore what I said when we walked in here. You should know that I absolutely don’t care if you sleep with guys, Dean. You’re my brother. What I care about is the ‘why’ behind this whole thing, especially when you’re saying you don’t normally do it. I mean, if you’ve been hiding this…part of you-”
“I don’t have some secret life. I don’t sleep with men and if I did I for damn sure wouldn’t need to hide it.” Dean pounded his fist on the counter and Sam let go and backed away from it, brow furrowed as he listened. “I'm a hunter; I'm not scared of what you or anyone else thinks of what I do.”
“Fine, you’re not in anyone’s closet. Then why are you suddenly doing this? Because if this has something to do with that angel-”
“His name is Cas! Show him some respect and stop acting like you don’t know it.”
“Fine, I know his name. It’s Castiel, sounds like Uriel, and Gabriel, and all those other names that angels have. Angels of the Lord, beings that we’re not supposed to play out little sexual fantasies about with people who remind of us them for whatever reason.”
Dean started shouting by the time Sam reached the word “fantasies”. “You’ve got some damn nerve; screwing around with a demon inside a dead girl’s body and talking about me and what I’m doing.”
“That’s different and you know it.”
“How is it different, Sam? Is it somehow better?” Dean poked his brother in the chest.
“You’re fooling around with this guy under some really false pretenses.” Sam interrupted. “He thinks you’re someone else.”
“Didn’t that medical examiner think you were an agent with the FBI? Was that maybe a little bit wrong?”
“This man in there thinks you’re someone he works with. What happens when we leave and the real guy doesn’t have any memory of all this? If it’s just a conversation, fine, but having sex with him when he thinks you’re someone he knows? It’s a violation, Dean, at the very least it’s a sexual assault.”
“You know what? You need shut your damn mouth about that because you have no idea what we were doing.” Dean turned away.
“Huh,” Sam shook his head and his laughter didn’t reach his eyes, “I actually got a really good look at what you two were doing. “
“Sam, it’s not…” Dean started, but didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “We were just talking, okay, and I was trying to find a way to figure out if he’s really Cas’ vessel because this whole night has turned up nothing so far.”
“Actually it did. That was Ruby just now. The angels saved a seal in Philadelphia about an hour ago. Whoever Misha is, he’s not the vessel.”
Previous Chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six
Author: Nikki Loza (a/k/acalcium_yeah )
Disclaimer: A collection of people own Supernatural and its characters. Misha owns himself. I own nothing.
Rating: R
Fandom: Supernatural/RPS
Genre/ Pairing: Slash. Dean/Misha. Contemplation of Dean/Castiel.
Spoilers: Takes place post-4x11 Sex and Violence.
Warnings: WIP written live over 10 days, so you may wish to wait until the end if you would like the full, edited version. Thoughts of angel porn.
Summary: Dean and Sam are at Misha’s house trying to determine if the actor is Castiel’s vessel. 10 day Dean/Misha countdown to Supernatural's return from winter break.
Misha’s couch was not large enough to accommodate two grown men writhing atop one another and Dean had to rest one leg on the floor and one on top of Misha’s own closely pressed legs, making their scramble to open each other’s pants clumsy and tight.
Dean pushed Misha’s hands away and lifted himself slightly, hooking into the top of Misha’s open jeans and pulling them down as the actor attempted to assist him by squirming from side to side. Once the pants were below his thighs, the hunter sat back down and gripped the other man’s growing erection through the opening in his boxer briefs.
The angle made Dean’s motion’s awkward, but he tried to move his wrist in the hard, steady motion that he liked himself as blue eyes watched him with unwavering attention. It was odd, looking at that face beneath him, squinting with lust instead of curiosity, mouth open and breath coming out in stunted, rhythm-less gasps when he couldn’t remember if Cas had ever breathed at all.
Misha reached up to grip Dean’s arm and his palm covered the handprint imprinted on the hunter’s skin. Dean groaned, dropping his weight onto the man below him and subconsciously squeezing harder, eliciting a grunt as his hand broke into an unsteady spazzing motion.
The sound of a throat clearing took a few seconds to register in Dean’s brain before he remembered that he and Misha were in the middle of an open room and that Sam had just stepped outside to take a phonecall.
“Jared! We seem to have uh-huh forgotten you were here.” Misha choked out and Dean pulled back and turned to see Sam looking at them on the couch as if he were trying to work out a way that their position could mean anything other than what it obviously did.
Sam’s eyes lowered to where the two men were still touching and Dean hurried to zip his pants, keeping his own eyes directed towards the floor, which didn’t help the situation as it gave him a nice view of how much his jeans were still poking out around the zipper region.
“Can I talk to you in the kitchen?” Sam kept his eyes trained on Dean. “Now.”
Dean nodded and patted Misha’s thigh reassuringly, moving to step away from where he had been straddling their host, but being pulled back down.
“Is everything okay? With you two?” Misha pointed between Sam and Dean and the older Winchester brother clasped his waiving finger and brought it to settle between them.
“He probably just wants to make sure I’m not taking advantage of your hospitality.” Dean smirked unconvincingly.
“Alright.” Misha nodded and let go, trying to catch Sam’s attention, but frowning when the other man deliberately avoided his gaze.
Dean followed his brother into the kitchen, licking his lips nervously and still tasting traces of the lemonade that Misha had been drinking that evening. Sam gripped the edge of the counter and Dean wondered in passing if his little brother was grinding notches into the wood as they stood there.
“What happened, Dean, you run out of random women to have one night stands with when we’re supposed to be on a hunt?”
“It’s not what it looked like.” Dean hated the words as soon as they left his mouth, knowing how stupid they sounded.
“Aw, the brother I know could come up with a way better excuse than that.”
“It’s not an excuse, Sam, you know me! I don’t do....things like this.” Dean pointed over his shoulder in the general direction of Misha’s living room.
“What don’t you do, men? Because you do stuff exactly like this all the time if we’re not talking about gender.”
“I really don’t want to have this conversation with you right now.”
“Okay, ignore what I said when we walked in here. You should know that I absolutely don’t care if you sleep with guys, Dean. You’re my brother. What I care about is the ‘why’ behind this whole thing, especially when you’re saying you don’t normally do it. I mean, if you’ve been hiding this…part of you-”
“I don’t have some secret life. I don’t sleep with men and if I did I for damn sure wouldn’t need to hide it.” Dean pounded his fist on the counter and Sam let go and backed away from it, brow furrowed as he listened. “I'm a hunter; I'm not scared of what you or anyone else thinks of what I do.”
“Fine, you’re not in anyone’s closet. Then why are you suddenly doing this? Because if this has something to do with that angel-”
“His name is Cas! Show him some respect and stop acting like you don’t know it.”
“Fine, I know his name. It’s Castiel, sounds like Uriel, and Gabriel, and all those other names that angels have. Angels of the Lord, beings that we’re not supposed to play out little sexual fantasies about with people who remind of us them for whatever reason.”
Dean started shouting by the time Sam reached the word “fantasies”. “You’ve got some damn nerve; screwing around with a demon inside a dead girl’s body and talking about me and what I’m doing.”
“That’s different and you know it.”
“How is it different, Sam? Is it somehow better?” Dean poked his brother in the chest.
“You’re fooling around with this guy under some really false pretenses.” Sam interrupted. “He thinks you’re someone else.”
“Didn’t that medical examiner think you were an agent with the FBI? Was that maybe a little bit wrong?”
“This man in there thinks you’re someone he works with. What happens when we leave and the real guy doesn’t have any memory of all this? If it’s just a conversation, fine, but having sex with him when he thinks you’re someone he knows? It’s a violation, Dean, at the very least it’s a sexual assault.”
“You know what? You need shut your damn mouth about that because you have no idea what we were doing.” Dean turned away.
“Huh,” Sam shook his head and his laughter didn’t reach his eyes, “I actually got a really good look at what you two were doing. “
“Sam, it’s not…” Dean started, but didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “We were just talking, okay, and I was trying to find a way to figure out if he’s really Cas’ vessel because this whole night has turned up nothing so far.”
“Actually it did. That was Ruby just now. The angels saved a seal in Philadelphia about an hour ago. Whoever Misha is, he’s not the vessel.”
Previous Chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six