fic: dreaming out loud [dean/castiel/sam]

Sep 21, 2012 07:45

Title: dreaming out loud
Pairing: Dean/Castiel/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Warnings: Set somewhere in mid-S5. Warnings for (W)incest, language, & totally non-explicit sexual content/threesome.
Summary: They're just a not-so-normal family on a not-so-normal vacation before the lights go out. ~3200 words.
A/N: Written for jaune_chat for the vacationthon fic exchange. Prompts used: seeing the great American attractions (specifically the Grand Canyon) and temporary elopement. Thanks to pann_cake for looking it over and generally putting up with my crap. ;)


Dean’s not entirely convinced that he isn’t dreaming.

That’s how it usually goes. It starts with a nightmare: memories from Hell, all the things he tries not to think about that might still happen, things he might not be able to prevent - namely Lucifer parading around in a fresh new Sam-suit. Then, just as it starts getting really tough, the nightmare fades and gets replaced by something peaceful, something too good to be real. Sometimes he’s on a beach or in a quiet park, but his favorite is when he finds himself sitting on that familiar dock, watching the water ripple and the trees sway in the breeze, and even though he doesn’t always see Cas standing next to him, Dean knows he’s there. But there’s no such thing as peace, not for them, and even in his dreaming state, Dean knows that. But he also knows that it’s okay to enjoy the dream while it lasts, that he’s allowed to have this for a little while, so he takes it.

This is probably another Cas-induced dream and Dean is probably asleep in some shitty motel room, but right now, he’s pretty okay with that idea. He’s going to enjoy it while it lasts.

The Grand Canyon is everything Dean imagined it would be and even more than he expected. The pictures don’t do it justice - it’s huge. It stretches further than his eyes can see, a vast expanse of brown and orange cliffs that goes on for miles before disappearing into the clouds. There aren’t a lot of things in this world that have the power to really amaze him, but this is definitely one of them. It’s the Holy Grail of Dean Winchester’s life. It’s the only dream he’s allowed himself to hold on to over the years, but he never thought it would actually come true. It something other people do. Normal people pack up their families during summer vacation and visit the Grand Canyon because it’s one of those things that you should do when you’re, you know, a normal person with a normal family. Dean has thought about it and talked about it, paused channel surfing on National Geographic documentaries long enough to elbow Sam in the side and say one day, but he knew it was never going to happen - hence why he takes a minute to question the reality of the situation.

He feels the familiar weight of Sam’s hand on his shoulder, heavy and warm against Castiel’s mark. The touch grounds him, bridges the gap between what might be a dream and what he knows is real. Sam gives him a crooked smile and Dean smiles back without even thinking about it. “I can’t believe we’re actually here,” Sam says.

Dean nods. “Crazy, right? I mean, look at us. We’re tourists.” That’s definitely a new one, but here they are - as far as the people around them are concerned, they’re no different from anyone else. They blend in with the regular folk, even with Cas in tow. They’re just a not-so-normal family on a not-so-normal vacation before the lights go out. Dean can’t help but think of Bobby, stuck back in Sioux Falls, and feels a pang of regret that he couldn’t come with them. If not for the chair, the old man would have out-hiked all of them and left them in the dust, that’s for sure.

The hardest part of the whole trip so far has been convincing Cas to change clothes. He bitched and moaned and failed to understand why the appearance of his vessel was important. Dean and Sam tried to explain that you can’t go hiking through the Canyon in four layers and trench coat - and yeah, Cas, we get that you’re “not affected by the Earth’s climate”, but we’d kind of like to avoid calling attention to that fact in public.

Cas finally agreed, but not before Sam was forced to break out the puppy eyes. Sam’s clothes were all too big, of course, so Dean loaned him a pair of jeans and one of his least threadbare t-shirts, wholly unprepared for the sight of Cas in regular clothes. He looked almost human, smaller without the trench coat, and the fact that those were Dean’s clothes was unexpectedly hot. Dean quickly derailed that train of thought and suggested they head out.

They spend their first day hiking along the South Rim of the Canyon. Sam is totally gung-ho about it, armed with maps and checklists and backpacks loaded with bottled water and snacks to keep them hydrated and “energized” on the trek. He hikes circles around Dean and Cas - and Cas is probably only hanging back for Dean’s benefit, but he is not here to exercise, damn it. He’s going to take his sweet time. Sam is all over the place, giddy like an overgrown kid, checking out the plant life and rattling off all the new shit he learned doing research in their motel room last night. Dean only half listens to the conversation Sam and Cas are having until he realizes that Cas has probably been here before, that he probably remembers when this place was created.

“It seems,” Cas pauses, squinting in the sunlight, “bigger than I remember. Or perhaps I’m smaller now.”

They keep going until they come to a stone tower at top of a cliff, overlooking the Canyon. It’s the highest point they’ve come to so far and the clouds look close enough to touch, hanging low over their heads. The inside of the tower is covered in native paintings; they’re on the walls, on the ceiling, on the side of the stairs they climb to the top. The view from the top is awesome. The Canyon stretches further still, going on and on until it fades into shadows. When Dean looks down, he can see the river cutting across the bottom, and for about half a second he wishes he had a camera. It’s kind of scary how easily he slipped into full-on tourist mode, but he discards the thought almost immediately. No picture could compare to this, it would just be a mediocre reminder that in no way captures what it’s really like to actually be here.

It’s afternoon when they finally head out again, the sun beating down on them, and Sam seems to have even more energy. Dean tries to keep up, he really does, but it starts to feel like work and he’s not here for that. But when the end of the trail is in sight, he’s not ready to leave just yet. They stop to rest again and he stretches out on a large, flat rock and just chills out, watching the clouds and the birds soaring overhead.

Cas is chatting it up with a fellow hiker in a language Dean doesn’t recognize. Sam lies down next to him without a word and they stay there for who know how long - a few minutes, an hour, who’s counting? It’s nice until Sam opens his big mouth and ruins it. “Think we should call Bobby? See if he’s got anything?”

Dean sighs, because no, they should not call Bobby whether he’s got anything or not. This is supposed to be an apocalypse-free zone. “Nah,” he says. “If he finds anything so earth-shattering that it can’t wait a couple days, he’ll call us.”

Sam doesn’t say anything else, but Dean can feel him looking at him, through him. Cas doesn’t have the market cornered entirely on starting right into your fucking soul, though in Sam’s case, it’s less literal. Dean meets his brother’s eyes and is suddenly aware of how close they are, of the way Sam’s leg is pressed against his own and their hands are almost touching. His brain backtracks immediately and he hops to his feet, holding his hand out to help Sam up. “C’mon, bitch, let’s get outta here. I need some real food.”

They stop in a restaurant not far from the Canyon, where they convince Cas to order some just for appearances - if he doesn’t eat it, Dean will, after all. Cas orders the same burger Dean does and he does eat it, despite not feeling particularly hungry, and Dean pointedly ignores Sam’s expression and chooses not to dwell on the fact that hey, Cas is eating. It’s a fucking amazing burger. Sam doesn’t know what he’s missing. The apple pie is even better, warm and flaky and perfect, and it’s a testament to his goodwill that he offers a bite to Sam and Cas when he’d really rather keep it all to himself.

The sun is going down when they get back to their motel, after making a pit-stop for beer. Once the alcohol starts flowing, Dean starts to feel pretty damn good. Hell, he’s felt good since they got here, but now he feels really good. Obviously it’s going to take a lot more alcohol than they can afford to get Cas drunk, but even he’s loosened up a little - Dean and Sam’s giddiness is obviously infectious. Cas and Sam are sitting next to each other at the head of one of the beds and Cas doesn’t even seem to mind when Sam starts getting touchy-feely, draping his arm across Cas’ shoulders and shoving him playfully when he laughs. Dean is starting to feel a bit left out, so he grabs his beer and heads over to their bed.

Now, he’s nowhere near drunk, but he’s got just enough booze in his system to make him loose-limbed and clumsy. So things get a little twisted up when he tries to climb onto the bed and he ends up falling gracelessly right into Cas and Sam’s collective lap.

And then everything just sort of stops.

Everything, that is, except Dean’s brain. It’s moving a little slower than usual, but it still manages to get up all the necessary red flags. Dean’s body, however, obviously doesn’t seem to notice. It’s more concerned with Sam’s thigh between Dean’s legs, Cas’ hand on his back, even as alarms are going off in his mind and doors that should have stayed closed forever are springing wide open. Behind Door Number One, there’s things that Dean has kept tucked away in the darkest place he could hide them, buried deeper even than the things he did in Hell: years of moments shared, of touches that lasted a little too long, and looks like the one Sam was giving him earlier; a love that was too thick and ran too deep, that threatened to break the boundaries of what is considered “brotherly” and become something else entirely.

Behind Door Number Two, there’s his last memory of Hell, a light cutting through the darkness, and things he doesn’t have a name for - a friendship that’s so much more than just that, more than he ever expected. There’s also the unfortunate cathouse incident and everything that came after: a shitty squat house, unforgiving hardwood floor beneath his knees, Cas’ fingers in his hair and the best damn blowjob Dean has ever given, if he does say so himself. They never talked about it - that was a decision that Dean made mostly by himself, but Cas seemed to get it. The world’s ending; Cas needed to find God, and Dean and Sam needed to find a way to kill the Devil. It came about at a bad time and they probably wouldn’t live to see a better one, so why bother?

Right now, though - right now seems like a really good time, and either Dean’s brain has stopped screaming no or he’s stopped listening.

There are million reasons why they shouldn’t do this, but he has suddenly forgotten why they matter at this point. Whether they lose this fight and the world goes up in flames or they die trying to stop it, it’s curtains for all of them and probably sooner rather than later. And this little vacation isn’t going to last forever; in a couple of days, they’ll have to pack up and head home, leave all this behind and get back in the game. This is the only chance they’re going to get, so Dean figures they might as well go all in. Enjoy it while it lasts, right?

If the way they’re looking at him is any indication, Sam and Cas already made that decision and they’ve just been waiting on Dean to get his shit together. He’s also suddenly aware that he’s been sitting on them and staring at them the whole time, and now that his little crisis is over, he realizes that his biggest problem is deciding which of them to kiss first.

They make the choice for him, leaning in on either side and pressing their lips to his skin. Cas drags his lips along Dean’s jaw while Sam kisses the corner of his mouth. Dean turns his head just enough for his lips to meet Sam’s - all those boundaries break, walls come crashing down, and Dean can’t be bothered. Sam kisses back harder than he expected, bites down on Dean’s bottom lip and practically sucks the breath right out of him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head and the other gripping his hip tight enough to bruise. A third hand rests on the small of Dean’s back, slips beneath his t-shirt, while a fourth one slides purposefully up his thigh. Dean pushes away from Sam and barely catches his breath before pulling Cas in, keeping one hand on Sam’s stomach and burying the other in Cas’ hair.

He moves back and forth between them, kissing one and then the other, and then they kiss each other and God, if that isn’t the most perfect thing Dean has ever seen. They start moving faster, growing bolder with each touch and each kiss. Everything starts to blur together and Dean can no longer keep track of whose hands are going where. He blames the alcohol, but he knows that’s not the only reason. He feels high, completely lost in the feeling of their skin against his, their limbs tangling together and their bodies moving in time with each other. It’s overwhelming and Dean’s brain shuts off completely - if they stopped just for a second, it might cut back on, so it’s very important that they do not stop.

Dean sleeps better than he has in years, but when he wakes up there’s only one body next to his. Sam has his enormous arm draped across Dean’s stomach and his face pressed against his back. Dean reaches blindly in front of him for Cas, not awake enough to actually open his eyes, but he’s not there and Dean can’t help feeling oddly incomplete. Then he feels someone grab his hand, link their fingers together. He finally opens his eyes to find Cas sitting at the foot of the bed, where he’s probably been all night, the creeper. Sam stirs, pulls Dean tighter against his chest, and Dean just melts into him. “Been watching me sleep again, Cas?”

Cas kisses Dean’s knuckles. “I’ve been watching both of you.”

They spend the entire second day of their vacation in their motel room, only leaving for food and beer runs. Dean grabs breakfast and comes to back find Sam and Cas starting round two without him. He gets them both back when Cas picks up lunch, and later, when Sam goes to get dinner.

Food is the only thing important enough to drag them out of bed - food and showers, which they add to growing list of first-time human experiences Cas is having this weekend. He could probably clean them all up with a snap, but why waste the juice? Besides, a nice long shower is good for the soul or whatever, and all the grumbling Cas does beforehand is totally worth it for the sight of him afterwards, red-skinned and shower-fresh.

By the time the sun goes down, they’re all plenty fucked out and covered in marks, hickeys and bite-marks and scratches. Who knows which ones belong to whom. They wake up before dawn and this time Cas is lying with them, even though he’s still not sleeping. Dean buries is face in the crook of Dean’s neck, links he fingers with Sam’s and tries to pull both of them as close as he can get them. If he could stay right here for the rest of his life, he’d die happier than a pig in shit, so he closes his eyes and tries to go back to sleep, tries to forget what today is.

Today’s the day they have to go home and this can’t come with them.

They pack up and head back to the Canyon to watch the sunrise. It’s quiet, only a few fellow early birds milling around, and the morning air is surprisingly chilly. Cas is back in his trademark suit and trench coat, like everything’s back to normal - but it isn’t, not yet. Dean can feel the inevitability of it creeping up with the sun, but not yet. They’ve still got a few hours left and a whole day’s drive ahead of them. Sam hands him a Styrofoam cup of coffee and they drink in silence, but Dean can feel Sam giving him another one of those looks, full of words that he knows Dean doesn’t want to hear.

The sun slowly rises above the horizon, painting the sky red and orange. Dean leans against the railing, Sam and Cas doing the same on either side of him, and just takes it in. He’s never really appreciated this kind of thing before - the sun rises and sets every single day like clockwork, the same way it did before he was born and, theoretically, will after he dies. It’s easy to take for granted because it’s so constant; you figure it’s okay to miss one because there will always be another one.

But there may not be. Regardless of who wins the final round, Lucifer or Michael, there probably won’t be any mornings like this after the fight’s over. Even if there is, there probably won’t be any humans around to enjoy it. And just like that, it all comes back, the weight of everything they’re up against settling back into place on their shoulders. The sun is up, the dream is over, and it’s time to go.

Dean wants to stop it, wants to say, hey, let’s stay one more day, but the apocalypse isn’t going to wait and, sooner or later, someone would show up to smoke them out.

They head back to the parking lot and he feels Cas’ hand on the small of his back, a look in his eyes like he knows exactly what Dean is thinking. Sam hesitates a few feet away from the car, shoves his hands in his pockets. “You ready to go?”

No. “Yeah. You?”

Sam shrugs. “Yeah. Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

They pile into the Impala, quiet instead of chatty and excited like they were when the left Bobby’s. There’s nothing left to say because they’re all thinking the same thing. The engine roars to life and they hit the road back to reality. They’ve got work to do.

It’s time to wake up.

fanfiction, fic: spn, fic: spn: castiel/dean/sam

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