And together we make a holy monster
Subject line shamelessly stolen from the gorgeous poem rei-c posted earlier, Filthy Radiance Go and read it. I have kept it open in a browser all day so I can go back and read it again and again
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Comments 79
spn, gen, het, slash, whatever.
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Still. The touch of Dean’s small, soft fingers on his calloused palm gave him pause.
“Sammy’s hungry, I think,” Dean said, a new kind of serious that hadn’t lived in his eyes when Mary was with them stared up at John. John turned, looked as the wall as though he could see through it, through the timbers and plaster and look into the bassinette on the other side.
“He’s quiet,” John said. “We’ll leave him until he cries.”
I’m just not ready.
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great idea for entertainment!
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Dean’s blunt fingertips dig into his thighs with a grip he wants to lay on Sam’s hip, shoulder, anywhere, wants to press bruises into yielding skin, wants to bite at Sam’s angles.
Mostly, he wants to beat the fuck out of the dude who won’t stop touching Sam. Sam’s not getting it, he never does, clueless bastard, but Dean’s been watching, watching as the guy happens to stumble and balances himself with a palm on Sam’s shoulder. Happens to speak too low to the waitress, leaning across Sam’s lap to make his order heard. Happens to bump his shoulder into Sam’s chest when he reaches for his beer.
Dean sips his beer, bitter and oily on his tongue. Sam keeps glancing back at him, mouth open and eyebrows raised, what’s up/? Normally Dean’s the social one, getting the dirt from the locals. Tonight, Dean wishes they’d stayed in where only he could see the way Sam’s t-shirt clung to the contours of his body.
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okay, okay...
Dean has enough when the asshole actually brushes Sam's bangs away from his face. Seriously, Sam is not a girl, and, damn it! the only person who can touch his hair is Dean. So he stands up and walks over to where his brother is leaning, shoots the guy a glare that would've made John Winchester cower, and says, "Hey, Sammy? I'm not feeling so hot, I think that chilli earlier disagreed with me. Mind if we go back to the motel?"
Sam, who at first seemed surprised and annoyed that Dean was ruining his information pumping, jumps up from his stool, immediately gives Dean the concerned puppy eyes. "Yeah, Dean, of course. I think I have some Peptobismol back in the room."
Dean can't help but glance at the poor bastard who was trying to hit on Sam, who looks dissapointed and taken aback at being so quickly dismissed. Dean can't deny it's a rush to be the focus of Sam's attention, of his universe... and it's not unfair, 'cause, fuck, Sam's been his since he was born.
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So basically? I'M BORED!! And the clock is going sooooo sllllloooooowwww...
Hm. A sentence eh? Okay give me some gen please on this...
Dean woke with a start and looked around him in a moment of panic as he realized his current location was not, in fact, where he'd fallen asleep.
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Fleeting Mind - Ocean Colour Scene
SPN slash please, but whatever wprings to mind really.
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Sam rubbed his hands against his knees, eyes fixed on an indeterminate spot on the carpet.
“No,” he said.
“But you liked it when he looked at you,” Dean continued, a statement this time.
“Dean,” Sam lifted his head, shot Dean a pleading look. Dean stopped pacing and leaned forward.
“You did like it, didn’t you?” he said again.
“Yes,” Sam said, a whine creeping into his voice. Dean smirked, crowding up into Sam’s space until Sam was forced to lean back. Dean braced his hands on the mattress; Sam was almost flat on his back now.
“See, that’s all I wanted to hear,” Dean crawled up the bed, hands and knees bracketing Sam’s prone form. “I don’t mind, I like it when people look at you, too. Know why?” Dean let his mouth brush against the curve of Sam’s neck. “I know I’m the only one who gets to do this,”
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Sam squares his jaw, Dean's mouth hot and sharp and just a little bit bruising on his neck. He presses a hand so it curves around the tight jut of Dean's hip. "The only one, huh?"
Dean's teeth nip a little, and warm breath ghosts over the damp skin of Sam's throat. "You denying it?"
"Nope," Sam pauses, the thought that Dean likes it when people look at him rolling about in his head. "Just want to check..." he surges up, rolling over so Dean is pinned beneath him, half crushed under his weight. "...Check where we stand."
"Oh?" Dean smirks, shifting his hips, eyebrow raised.
"Goes both ways. I'm the only one who gets to do this too."
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From One To Blame by Anna Ternheim. I've wanted to write something based on that line since forever but I doubt anything will happen. It also has the gorgeous line: "It's bittersweet to swallow kindness as a consequence of guilt." Which you're also free to play with. *g*
(I'm seeing Sam/Dean but whatever floats your boat. Or muse.)
[ETA. Edited to link to lyrics and fix mistake. Oops.]
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Really, I loved it and everything else you've written here. Thank you so so much. *hugs*
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