Finnreylo “Canon-verse” Moodboard requested by @doing-talking
Tag: canon verse
“Come on, Sammy, say Dada,”
says the tall man who is always around. Sammy knows he is Daddy, but he can’t
quite say it yet. Oh, he tries, but his tongue feels heavy around the word, and
he only ends up babbling.“Da-da,” repeats Daddy. “Come on, you can say it, Sammy.”
Sammy tries to say it, but he can’t.
“Can you say Dean,
Sammy? Dean?” says Daddy.Dean! Sammy
thinks, clapping his hands at the name, chuckling.He knows who Dean is, of course. The boy sitting next to
Daddy now, smiling widely at Sammy; the boy who kisses Sammy’s cheek every
night before Sammy goes off to sleep, and is there in Sammy’s crib every
morning when Daddy wakes them up.Sometimes, when Sammy wails at night crying because his gums
itch and he wants something to gnaw at, Dean puts his thumb into Sammy’s mouth,
letting Sammy bite at it to lessen that itchy feeling in his mouth. When
Sammy’s sobs turn to soft sniffles, Dean kisses Sammy’s cheek again, putting a
warm arm around Sammy’s middle, tugging him so close that Sammy feels all warm
and happy.But Dean never talks, Sammy has noticed that.
Sometimes, Dean cries, though. Some nights he cries a lot,
and Daddy takes Dean into his arms and whispers words in Daddy’s deep voice
that finally make Dean stop crying. But Dean never cries like Sammy – not loud
wails that bring Daddy running to him. Dean cries soundlessly; only his face turning
all red and tears falling down his eyes, and sniffling and breathing all
strange until Daddy rubs his back gently, pressing kisses onto Dean’s brow.“Come on, Sammy. You can say it. Dean,” says Daddy again.
Sammy tries but his words only come out as a jumble of aas and das.
“Dean,” Daddy turns to Dean now. “Maybe Sammy will speak if
you tell him to.”Dean only shrugs, looking away from Sammy now, his fingers
fiddling with the large fluffy rabbit he carries everywhere, the one whose long ears he lets Sammy chew sometimes.“Don’t you want Sammy to speak?” Daddy tells Dean. “He does
everything you do, doesn’t he? He crawls after you everywhere to follow you,
and eats only when he watches you eating. Maybe he isn’t speaking yet because
he’s waiting for you to speak, Dean. Come on, tell Sammy to say Dean. You want Sammy to say your name,
don’t you? It’ll be Sammy’s first word. You want Sammy to talk, don’t you?”Dean watches Sammy now, eyes wide and suddenly teary. He
seems to be struggling with something, and Sammy slaps his hands onto the
floor, making to crawl towards Dean. He doesn’t like crawling much, though. He
wants to walk like Daddy and Dean do, then he can follow Dean around everywhere
faster. Dean has tried to make Sammy stand up, but he always falls, knees
trembling, unbalanced.“Dean,” Daddy whispers to Dean again. “Come on, you can talk
to Sammy. He hasn’t heard you talk for so long now. You don’t even wish him
good night when we put him to bed. Don’t you want him to hear you? Don’t you
want to hear Sammy speak? Come on, you’re my brave little boy, aren’t you? Talk
to Sammy, Dean. He won’t talk if you don’t tell him to. Sammy’s a big boy now. He should start talking to us, shouldn’t he?”Dean nods now, and Sammy notices he’s beginning to cry. He
doesn’t like seeing Dean cry. Sammy tries to stand up now, to go to Dean
faster. His legs feel all strange and wobbly as he tries to stand like he’s
seen Dean do.Daddy’s smiling at him now, arms outstretched to hold Sammy
if he falls. But Sammy doesn’t want to go to Daddy, he wants to go to Dean.“Dee!” says Sammy loudly, standing up on trembling legs,
hands held out for Dean, telling him not to cry. “Dee! Dee! Dee!”Daddy laughs loudly – it almost startles Sammy. He’s never
heard Daddy laugh so loud before. Sammy’s so startled that he begins to fall,
scrunching his face up, about to cry, because he knows he’s going to fall on
his bum and it will hurt him like it did last time he fell.But before he falls, Dean catches him, and Sammy feels the
familiar warmth of Dean around him.“Sammy,” he hears Dean whisper in his hair. Dean’s voice is
rough and so soft that Sammy wonders if he really spoke.But then Daddy’s gathering both of them into a hug, Dean and
Sammy pressed tight against each other, Daddy’s large arms around them.“Thank God,” Daddy’s saying; it doesn’t sound like he’s
talking to either Dean or Sammy. “Thank God.”“Daddy,” says Dean, his voice breaking on the word, and he
begins to cry, his little arm around Sammy. It isn’t the silent crying Dean did
all these days – but he’s crying noisily, much like Sammy does, and he’s
speaking too, a string of broken words. “Mommy—I want Mommy—”Daddy only clutches them tighter, and Sammy begins to
struggle against his hold, wanting Daddy to put down both of them so that Sammy
can play with Dean now, try to stand and walk towards him again because he
knows Dean will always be there to hold him if he falls.“I know, Dean, I know,” says Daddy, and Sam’s surprised to
see that Daddy’s crying too. “I miss her too… but we’ll be alright, Dean. We’ll
be alright – Sammy, you, and me.”“Dee! Dee!” says Sammy, and when he looks up at Dean, he
sees him smiling at him – the one special smile he smiles only at Sammy – even
through the tears.
Fic title: The great bunny slipper war
Sastiel. Canonverse. Feat: the eldritch bunker!
Dean likes to tease his brother for everything he possibly can but the latest in a long line of tiny things that really aren’t that big of a deal are the bunny slippers. It’s not like Sam cares, really, but they’re comfortable and soft and Dean can get over himself. It gets worse, however, when Cas finds his own pair of pastel pink bunny slippers because these ones squeak.
Well, if Dean’s gonna be a jerkass about it, maybe it’s time to a couple of jerkasses right back. Que bunny slippers, bunny footie pajamas, bunny ears, and stuffed bunnies everywhere – Dean’s bed, the showers, the trunk of the Impala, literally everywhere. It’s all fun and games until a truce is called and everyone decides to go back to normal.
Or… almost everyone. Most of the bunny stuff was supposed to go out in the dumpster, so who the hell decided to put it all in the library? And why is there more in the kitchen? And the pool? …Wait since when did they have a pool??
“I think that if I ever met a mermaid, I’d want to talk with them about what it feels like to fly. I’m sure their swimming is a similar comparison.”
“Cas, you know mermaids don’t exist, right?” Dean said, a smile playing on his lips and one arm resting along Castiel’s shoulders. Cas rambling on about odd subjects while they lay in bed together was not an unusual occurrence, but an endlessly amusing one for Dean.
Castiel frowned and turned his head to look at Dean.
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but I kind of come into contact with a lot creatures like that.” Dean shrugged his shoulders, gesturing at himself. “I think with all the hunters that have ever lived, one of us would have noticed if mermaids exist.”
“Not too long ago you would have said that angels didn’t exist.”
“Yeah, but -”
“And you do realize that you’re arguing with someone who has witnessed the creation of all of earth’s creatures since the beginning of time?”
“Um, I mean – I guess…”
“So, you can say with certainty – knowing that humans have only explored less than five percent of your world’s ocean – that there are absolutely no mermaids living there?”
Dean paused, snapping his mouth shut as he stared back at the angel, trying to read between the lines.
“Cas… are you implying that you know mermaids exist?”
Castiel’s amused smile faded into something more nonchalant as he sat up and stretched his arms above his head.
“I’m going to get a glass of water. Do you want anything?”
“Cas,” Dean leaned over to make a desperate grab at his arm to keep him in bed and missed, as Castiel had already stood up. “C’mon, Cas. Wait – are mermaids real??”
Castiel grinned and began putting on a robe, cinching it loosely around his waist.
The silence dragged on while Castiel walked over to the bedroom door, tugging it open and turning to glance over his shoulder agonizingly slowly.
“I’ll have to ask the Loch Ness Monster.”
The door shut behind him.
A little letter from Dean to Cas (post-12×23)
You know after watching everyone and every damn thing I love die over and over, you think this shit would sting a little less, but it never fucking does. Hell, it feels a little worse each time I see you die. Because you kept coming back, like those trick candles you blow out and they keep re-igniting… but even those eventually run out and all you’re left with is a vague disappointment and wax all over a perfectly good cake. Pain in the ass you were, you were my best friend. I haven’t really got much going for me in my life; it’s mostly just been me and Sammy against the world. You made it a little less lonely, a little more bearable. Now, look at me, writing a letter that you’ll never respond to like some kind of sentimental sap, dumbass is more like it. Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks… for everything. I don’t know if they got a special spot for dead angels, being soulless and all… but I hope they do. Hell, maybe I’ll even see you again. If they got Zeppelin in angel-heaven, I could introduce you to some more proper music and none of that Britney Spears bullshit you used to blast out in that trash pimp car.
Cass.
I’m sorry.
I love you too.
Stuck in a Snowglobe
SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 10 | rosemoonweaver vs. @purgatoan
Prompt: snow squall
Ship: Dean/Ketch
Word Count: 2,983
Tags/Warnings: magic, canon divergent, canon verse, blowjobs, mild sexual content, enemies to lovers, sharing body heat, past child abuse, background Sam Winchester/Mick Davies
Summary: Dean and Ketch don’t really get a long. It’s not that he doesn’t like Ketch, he just gets on Dean’s nerves. Getting stuck in a snowglobe together is sure to help matters.
AO3 Link
“A witch with a hobby shop. Cute,” Dean said, checking the doorway. It was dark inside, and eerily quiet, but the witch had to be in here somewhere.
“Because cursed chachkies are exactly something you’d find endearing,” Ketch said.
Dean rolled his eyes. Leave it to him to draw the short straw and get stuck with Ketch of all people. Ever since he and Mick wound up breaking from the Men of Letters they’d been hanging around Dean and Sam like lost puppies. That was great for Sam, having someone to geek out with and discuss different and more ethical methods of monster fighting but that meant Dean got stuck with Ketch most of the time. It wasn’t that Dean hated him, it was just, well, he rubbed Dean the wrong way. He was quiet most of the time but then he’d say something a little too biting and close to home and Dean was stomping out of the room. He wasn’t sure how, but the bastard was great at digging down deep and finding shit. And he was hot and kinda smug about it, and that pissed Dean off a little, too.
Dean walked around the corner, waving Ketch along with him. They walked slowly, so their footfalls wouldn’t cause the floorboards to squeal beneath their feet. The witch had to be around here somewhere, they’d seen her run it. Dean and Ketch took the backdoor while Sam and Mick took the front.
There was a clatter to the left, followed by Sam’s distinctive shout. Dean sprinted off towards the noise, Ketch following close on his heels. They found themselves in the front room, the witch standing in front of the cash register with Sam and Mick pinned to the wall across from her, both hands raised in the air.
“Sam!” Dean shouted.
The witch swung her head around and dropped a hand, causing Mick to fall to the floor. Two things happened at once then, Dean and Ketch fired their guns and the room flashed purple.
~~~
Dean awoke on the ground. It was freezing, and there was a thin layer of snow under him, soaking into his jeans. He sat up, feeling that familiar metallic twang on magic in his mouth. His head was swimming, and all he could make out around him was a vast expanse of white. Ketch lay next to him, stirring as he woke.
“Where the fuck are we?” Dean muttered out loud. He dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed Sam. The line didn’t even ring.
“Fuck, no service,” Dean grumbled, stuffing it back into his pants pocket.
“What’s going on?” Ketch asked, rubbing his head as he sat up.
“We’ve been bippity-boppity-booed.”
“Wonderful.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Dean said. “I have no fucking idea where the hell we are.” Dean stood up, shielding his face from the harsh light above them. Everything was washed out and a little too bright.
Ketch rose to his feet and did the same. “There’s a house in that direction,” he said, pointing to the left. There was a cabin off in the distance, a small cluster of pine trees next to it, but nothing else nearby. Dean’s hackles, raised. There was something very off-putting about the landscape but Dean couldn’t yet put his finger on exactly why.
Dean grunted in acknowledgment and the two started off in the direction Ketch had pointed in in silence, the snow crunching beneath their feet.
It only took a few minutes of walking for the earth to start to shake and the sky to grow dark. In an instant, snow was blowing all around them, pelting them in the face and whiting out everything around them. Dean sprinted in the direction he thought the snow. Ketch was next to him, the dark shape of his jacket all Dean could really make out. Hopefully, they wouldn’t wind up separated in the snow, because as much as Ketch pissed him off he didn’t want to be stuck out in the middle of God knows where without cell service all by himself.
It was just about the point that Dean and who he assumed was Ketch made it up the looming shape of the cabin when the snow stopped, just as suddenly as it had begun. It was still dark and Dean was chilled to the bone, but the cabin was ahead of them and that was a bonus.
When they came up to the cabin door, Dean’s suspicion that there was something off paid off.
“Okay, something’s fucked,” Dean said. The door to the cabin had no doorknob, just a painted-on gold circle where one should be. There wasn’t a window or a peephole either, just painted imitations. The windows on either side of the door were vacant of glass; they were just holes in the walls with painted wood that looked like window panes.
Ketch walked towards the door, pushing it with his fingertips. It swung open easily, but there was nothing on the inside, just a single empty room, save for the ugly red and green tapestry hanging off one wall. “It’s plastic,” Ketch said, stroking down the faux-wood grain.
“How the hell can it be plastic?” Dean asked.
“I don’t know, it just is,” Ketch snapped. “It’s a plastic house.”
“Why the fuck would there be a plastic house in the middle of butt fuck nowhere?”
Ketch rolled his eyes. “Well, if nothing else it will provide shelter if it starts snowing again.” And with that, he marched into the house and left Dean behind.
Dean grumbled and followed, unholstering his gun and checking around the corners, just on the off chance there was something in the room with them.
It was awkward for a while, with Dean pacing the room with Ketch just kind of stood in the middle of the room, fussing with his jacket. Dean didn’t have anything to say. What was there to say, really? Wherever the witch zapped them they were stuck for the foreseeable future. And that was just fucking perfect.
“Snowglobe,” Ketch said suddenly.
“Do what now?”
“We’re in a snowglobe.”
Dean stopped in his tracks, glancing out the window and out into the emptiness surrounding them.
“How do you figure?”
Ketch sighed like he was put out by Dean’s question. “We’re in a plastic house in the middle of nowhere. It’s dark but that happened suddenly and there are no clouds in the sky at all. Not ever snow clouds. Also, it snowed suddenly, hard, and then it just stopped.”
“So you think snow globe is the most logical explanation? That makes fucking sense.”
“Weren’t the witch’s victims disappeared for weeks at a time. That witness Sam and Mick interviewed did say he was some place cold and isolated for a week until his wife agreed to the witch’s terms. I’d say this counts as cold and isolated.”
Dean grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest.
“If you’d like to test my theory and walk until you run into the glass be my guest, but we were in a hobby shop and now we’re not. If you were a witch where would you toss your attackers?”
“I dunno, I’d just kill ‘em.”
Ketch rolled his eyes. “Yes, that would be the logical thing to do. But if you panicked what would you do?”
“Fuck, I dunno,” Dean said, plopping down on the floor and leaning up against the wall. “Guess it makes about as much sense as anything else.”
The ground shook beneath them then, and the wind picked up again. Snow blew behind them, a few flakes falling in through the window and landing in Dean’s hair.
“And there’s that,” Ketch said, “the earthquake thing.”
“Yeah, but why aren’t we drowning?” Dean asked.
Ketch shrugged. “Magic, probably.”
“I really fucking hate witches,” Dean said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
~~~
It snowed off and on in brief spurts while Ketch and Dean sat in silence. There was nothing to do but wait and stew. Hopefully, Sam would figure out what had happened to them and figure out a way to fix it. He had to because there was no way Dean was going to die here, in a damn snow globe after all the shit he’d been through. It was cold as hell, and Dean’s clothes weren’t helping matters. They’d started to dry and his ass was numb from the cold. Ketch’s leather jacket had served him well, though, keeping the water from soaking into his shirt. Lucky bastard.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Ketch said, “but I wouldn’t be concerned if I was you. Sam and Mick will take care of it.”
“Yeah, I don’t doubt it,” Dean said, “it’d just be nice if they could figure it out asap so we can get the hell out of here.”
“It’s not so bad,” Ketch said.
Dean snorted. “Yeah, okay. We’re just fucking stuck here with no food or water or way to get warm.”
“Well, that’s not technically true.”
“You planning on eating me if I keel over?”
“I don’t anticipate that being a problem. I was referring to getting warm.”
“You gonna pull that stick out of your ass and start us a fire?”
“I don’t see why you’re unnecessarily hostile all the time.”
“Yeah, figures you wouldn’t.”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“Figure it out.”
“Is the Men of Letters thing again? Because if it is I’ve already told you I have no love for them or their organization. I’ve already made it as clear as I can that I’m against them.”
“Well, sorry if it takes me a while to adjust to your sudden change of heart. You’ve only been with them for what? How old are you again? Forty-three? Yeah, forty-three years.”
Ketch actually groaned at that. “Well, excuse me for doing that instead of chumming around with the King of Hell, fallen angels, vampires, werewolves, and starting how many apocalypses again? Four? Five? Six?”
“Oh, fuck you. Those were a net good and you know it.”
“For who again? Those who died? The systems that were thrown into chaos?”
“You’re one to talk about the death toll. You were a glorified hitman.”
“From my perspective, I was doing the right thing. I thought it was it was a net good, too.”
“Yeah, well now you know past you is full of shit. So who’s right again?”
“You live in a glass house, Dean. I’ve done a lot of shit things in my life but I’m at least trying at this point. You’ve given monster your trust on a promise, and that’s all I ask of you.”
Dean rolled his eyes. Ketch had a point and that kind of sucked.
“Yeah, fine whatever.”
Ketch rolled his eyes. There was silence for a while before he spoke again. “And it was twenty-nine years, just so you know.”
Dean did the mental math. “So what, you were… fourteen then? You parents start you off late?”
“I didn’t have parents.”
“You were an orphan?”
“I wish.”
Ketch said nothing after that and Dean tried to swallow the awkward lump in his throat. This was exactly why he hated Ketch. Dean would get all righteously angry for a good reason and then Ketch would say something and Dean would feel bad from him. It wasn’t like Dean didn’t understand that the guy had a shitty life; after all the shit Mick told them after the two escaped Kendrick’s he was sure the two of them had been through all kinds of hell. The mental torture alone was enough to fuck anyone up but especially if they were kids. It was bullshit but it didn’t change the fact that Ketch had done some fucked up shit, too. But, as Ketch was so apt to point out, so had Dean. He’d started the first apocalypse, and had a hand in most of the rest. Hell, he’d been a damn demon for God sakes. But having his transgressions thrown in his face all the time sure as hell didn’t feel good.
Probably didn’t feel good for Ketch either.
Dean sunk down on the ground and curled up into a ball, letting that thought roll around in his head as he tried to sleep.
~~~
Sometime during the night (or morning, or whatever), Dean woke up with his teeth clattering. He was trembling all over, rubbing his ice-cold hands against his arms to get warm, but it wasn’t helping. Before he realized what was happening, Ketch was standing on his knees in front of him, pulling him up to a sitting position. Warm hands slid up to pull off his flannel overshirt and Dean grumbled, pulling away.
“Oh, stop,” Ketch said, “I’m just trying to help.”
“”S cold,” Dean said.
“I know. But if you stay in these frozen clothes it’s only going to get worse.”
“I’ll be colder if I’m naked,” Dean whined.
“Body heat,” Ketch said, slipping off Dean’s flannel and pulling the hem of his shirt up and over Dean’s head.
Dean whined, again.
“I know you hate me, but I’m trying to help you here. Despite what you believe I don’t actually want you dead.” Ketch undid Dean’s pants quickly shimmied them down Dean’s legs, stopping only to pull Dean’s boots off. He left Dean then, leaving him to shudder in the cold. Dean made a pitiful little sound, like that of a child. Ketch scoffed and was back before Dean could question it, first draping his leather jacket around Dean’s shoulders before pulling him close so their chests were pressed together and throwing the wall’s tapestry around the two of them.
“It’ll be better in a bit, I promise,” Ketch said.
Ketch was much warmer than Dean was, and he pressed himself close, not even bothering to care about the fact that he was practically on top of Ketch.
“Thank you,” Dean muttered. He was still shaking, but at least his teeth had stopped chattering.
Ketch hummed in acquiescence, the deep reverb of in rumbling against Dean’s chest.
Dean drifted off again, this time much warmer and much more comfortable.
~~~~
Dean awoke slowly, very much aware of the strong body curled into his own. For a brief moment, he was content and comfortable, but the realization that he was on the hard ground with an itchy wall carpet draped over him came flooding back way too soon. He groaned, rolling away to stretch his muscles, his joints popping. Ketch awoke at that, withdrawing and groaning on his own. The two didn’t speak and Dean stayed wrapped up in Ketch’s jacket and the tapestry for a long time before either one of them said anything.
“You know, I don’t actually hate you, right?” Dean asked.
“Could have fooled me,” Ketch said. They were separated, but sitting only a few feet away against the wall.
“Yeah, I know. But I don’t actually hate you. You piss me off, sure, but you’re not that bad, really.”
“I’ll add ‘not that bad, really’ to my list of positive personality traits then,” Ketch said.
Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to be nice, here.”
Ketch stared at him, a single eyebrow raised on his forehead.
“Yeah, I know, I suck at it. I’m trying to say that yeah, you get under my skin because you say shit that hits a little too close to home and you piss me off and all that but you’re not a total douchebag and you’re trying so I don’t hate you.”
“And you find me attractive and that pisses you off,” Ketch said.
“Fuck. Dude, really?”
“I’m not wrong.”
“You know, this is exactly the kind of shit I’m talking about.”
Ketch nodded and hummed. “Do you want a blowjob?”
Dean scoffed. “Dude! What? No! I’m not – what the fuck would even – what?”
“I’m just offering. It wouldn’t be a bad way to relieve the tension between us.”
Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed. “You have the most fucked up way of flirting I’ve ever seen.”
“So is that a no?”
Dean snorted and pulled Ketch into a dirty kiss by the scruff of his neck. From there, it didn’t take Ketch long to get his lips around Dean’s cock, and it didn’t take Dean long to return the favor.
~~~
There was something to be said about Sam’s nearly perfect timing. After Dean had had his brains sucked straight out of his dick and gleefully returned the favor, the musky taste of Ketch on his tongue was corrupted by the tang of magic once again. He was out for a moment, only to awake in the bunker’s library, tapestry still bunched up around his waist. There was a large spell book open on the library table, Mick standing over a golden bowl with a jar of powder still in hand.
“Really guys?” Sam said, gesturing between Dean and Ketch who were disheveled but at least covered where it mattered. “What the hell even happened?”
Dean opened his mouth to speak but Sam cut him off once again. “You know, I don’t think I want to know. Just, don’t tell me and we’ll consider it a thank you.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. But now you know what I go through every time you and Mick sneak off to the showers.”
Sam rolled his eyes and Mick blushed.
“Yeah, that’s right, I know,” Dean said.
Sam shook his head. “I just hope this means you two will stop sniping at each other all the damn time.”
“As long as he stops, we’re good,” Dean said with a smile.
“Me?” Ketch raised his eyebrows, “I’d say he’s much more antagonistic.”
“Yeah fuckin’ right,” Dean said, his voice raising in pitch just a bit, “you’re the one who starts it.”
Sam groaned and stalked out of the room, Mick following on his heels.
Dean and Ketch just smiled.
Tag List: @maliciouslycreative, @justanothersaltandburn , @princessjimmynovak , @jerksarehot , @samanddeaninpanties , @purgatoan
Odes to College Love
SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 8 | rosemoonweaver vs. @jelly-beans-and-gstrings
Prompt: Alien Armpit
Ship: Sam/Brady
Word Count: 549
Tags/Warnings: poetry, bad poetry (intentionally), first love, college, canon vesrse, pre-canon, sad ending, mild sexual content
Summary: A series to poems from Sam and Brady.
AO3 Link
Dearest Sam,
My majestic moose
You’re truly a gift to this world.
Your eyes are like bottled sunshine
Lighting up every dark corner of my world.
There has never been a person more kind or beautiful,
And I am enraptured.
Brady
You wore the cornflower tie I first saw you in the other day.
I never thought I’d wind up thinking cornflower, of all things, attractive,
but there is it and there you are
and I find myself wanting to thread it through my fingers and pull you close
to feel your stubble against my cheeks
your thin lips against my own
to see the twinkle in your eyes up close –
and fall in love all over again.
Sam
I feel in love in a comic shop
I remember it vividly,
The scent of plastic and ink,
The slick laminate floor beneath my feet,
The bright green walls all around – the color of an alien’s armpit –
And I should have known I’d find someone so out of this world there.
You fought me on the merits of Black Canary vs. Black Widow
I wanted to take you out back
And kiss you breathless
You were so passionate about it.
I fall in love with you every time you tell me how wrong I am.
Brady
I saw you crying the other day. You didn’t see me, but I was there.
I wonder what could be so bad,
to make someone so beautiful so sad.
I wish I could take it all away.
If I had the power, I’d erase anything that would dare make your smile fade
I’d chase away all the darkness from your life,
and I’d bottle your laughter for my own rainy days.
It would be worth it, to take your suffering on as my own
If only I could hold you in my arms for the rest of my life.
Sam
I used to wonder if people were destined to be together
Now I’m fairly sure I know.
Your hands fit perfectly with mine,
Like we were made to fit together.
Your lips against mine, the way we grind together,
It’s like magic,
Two parts of the same whole,
Fitting together in perfect unity.
It’s breathtaking.
Brady
I love you.
They’re words I never knew I could feel on my own lips
much less directed at someone I’m not related to.
They’re like candy, sweet, and addictive, full of a rush I never knew I could have.
I sometimes wonder what my father would say – if he would care at all –
but I know I don’t care.
You’re precious to me – a diamond in the coal mine of my life
and I’m never letting you go.
I love you now.
I’ll love you forever.
Sam
Brady,
It’s been years since we last wrote to each other.
I wonder what happened – what made you change –
but I have to accept that you are not the same person you once were.
The bright-eyed boy I fell in love with is dead
and some stranger walks around in his skin.
I fell in love again.
I don’t know if you care. If you ever did.
I hope so.
I loved you then.
I love you now.
It’s just different.
I hope you’re well, wherever you are.
Sam Winchester
Tagging: @justanothersaltandburn, @purgatoan, @mogaruke, @maliciouslycreative
just one more fix
another coda for 12.23
i’m sorry i can’t stop myselfDean’s a fucking mess.
He goes through the motions of being okay, but he’s empty inside. It’s a familiar feeling, one he’s already experienced back when Cas disappeared into that fucking lake, only it’s ten times worse this time. Last time he thought he loved Cas. This time he knows it. He knows he’s in love with his best friend and never did a fucking thing about it.
So yeah, it’s worse.
Alcohol doesn’t work. He knows it’s a bad idea so he doesn’t try it, knows he’ll just drink and drink and not stop this time, so he avoids it altogether. The idea of sex makes him want to cry, so that’s out.
The only coping mechanism he has left is hunting.
He’s not in a place to do research or “big picture” stuff like helping with Jack or trying to get Mary back. Sam points him in a direction and says “kill this werewolf” or “clear out this vamp nest” and Dean does it. It’s brutal and messy and physically exhausting and the best he can get right now. It’s the only way he can sleep these days; his body overworked and aching all over, he falls onto a motel bed and is out before his head hits the pillow.
One of these hunts happens to be a djinn. No big deal, really. He knocks the thing out and is about to kill it when he gets an idea. A really fucking stupid idea, but an idea.
Cas at that little cottage by the lake. Their cottage by the lake. He’s making lunch – ham and cheese sandwiches with a side of potato salad – and humming some Led Zeppelin under his breath. Dean stands in the doorway, breathless. He knows, of course he knows, but Cas is right in front of him, alive, and he’ll take it. Fuck yes he’ll take it-
Dean gasps as he jolts awake, the djinn’s venom wearing off. It’d been such a small amount, it’d barely lasted an hour.
He drains that djinn try, kills it, then hunts down every djinn he can find to get more. Visits occult shops and hunter stores and buys all the djinn venom he can get his hands on. Every night, he injects just enough to last ‘til morning. Every night, he dreams of blue eyes and dark hair and lips he finally gets to kiss…
“I love you,” Dean whispers between kisses. “Holy fuck do I love you.”
“I know, Dean. I love you too.”
“Never got to tell you… Fuck, you died and you never even knew-”
“Shhhh. It’s okay, Dean. I’m here. I know.”
Waking up hurts (god does it hurt, it’s like losing Cas all over again), but it makes the rest of his life almost tolerable. It gives Dean a purpose, a goal that he mets with deadly precision, and the momentary peace of getting to be with Cas again.
“Dean?”
“Cas?” Dean groggily looks around the dark room. Cas’ side of the bed is empty, so he holds open the covers for him. “C’mere.”
Cas hestitates but approaches the bed. “Dean…”
He doesn’t wait to hear more, just pulls Cas into the bed and wraps himself around him. “Shh, baby. Go to sleep.”
“Dean- I- This can’t wait-”
“Yeah it can.” Dean yawns and rests his head on Cas’ chest. The idiot didn’t even take his clothes off. “I’m tired. Good night, babe. Love you.”
“… I love you too, Dean.”
When Dean wakes up and sees two blue eyes staring at him, he freezes. Shit shit shit shit how much venom did he take last night? Should’ve worn off by now. How’s he going to wake up? He hasn’t even told Sam where he is, no one’s going to come for him-
“Just breathe, Dean.”
He stiffens as Cas puts a hand on his shoulder, but then melts into the touch. He can’t fucking help it. “Cas,” he croaks. “I fucked up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I took too much djinn venom and now I can’t wake up. I was so fucking careful-”
“Is that what you think this is? A djinn dream?”
“Well either that or I died and went to Heaven, but I’m not sure those dicks have left a spot open for me.”
“… I’m in your djinn dream?”
“That’s a joke, right? You are my djinn dream. What the fuck is even the point if I can’t see you? This is all that’s left-”
Cas surges forward and kisses him, cradling Dean’s jaw like he’s precious. Dream Cas never does that. With dream Cas it’s the other way around. And this kiss is too sweet, too desperate, too real–
“Cas?” Dean doesn’t dare hope. This is a dream after all, isn’t it?
“Chuck brought me back. I came looking for you as soon as I could. You weren’t at the bunker. Took me a while to pinpoint your… your longing.”
Dean rests his forehead on Cas’ shoulders and squeezes his eyes shut. Tears threaten to spill and if they start, Dean suspects it’d be a while before they stop. “This isn’t the djinn dream, is it? Because I can’t afford to start believing this is real and have it taken away. If that happened…”
Strong arms close around him. “It’s real, Dean. I’m here.”
Despite his best efforts, Dean starts crying. Cas doesn’t mind.
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