Tag: spnrareshipcc

Safe and Sound

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 12 | rosemoonweaver vs. @anactorya
Prompt: Balloons
Ship: Cas/Dean/Jimmy/Sam (winjimstiel)
Word Count: 3,784
Tags/Warnings: hot air balloons, albuquerque, anxiety, panic attacks, rimming, oral sex, blow jobs, foursome – m/m/m/m, polyamory, explicit sexual content
Summary: Sam, Cas, and Jimmy really want to ride in the hot air balloon and Dean really doesn’t want to say no, no matter how much it scares him. 
AO3 Link

Dean isn’t sure how the hell he wound up agreeing to this, but at least he was too tired to really comprehend it – yet. It’s too damn early to be awake yet, the sun just barely deciding it was time to get it’s own ass up, but he Dean is, bundled up in sweaters and mittens and a wool hat, standing in the middle of a field waiting for giant ass balloons to fill up. It had been Cas and Jimmy’s idea. The two of them had apparently been on several hot air balloon rides when they were kids and for some ungodly reason, they wanted Sam and Dean to experience it, too. They even resorted to those damn puppy dog eyes, and really. Dean was no match for three sets of big sad eyes all trained on him.

So, here he is, sipping watery hot cocoa and standing in wet grass, Sam and Jimmy on either side of him while Cas hunts down something for breakfast. Jimmy and Sam both have coffee and it smells delicious, but Dean’s not planning on making the mistake of waking himself up for this more than he has to be. It’s bad enough he actually agreed to step inside a hot air balloon and he’s pretty sure the second they start to lift off he’s going to be wide awake so there’s no way in hell he’s gonna wake himself up before that.

Cas comes back with four breakfast burritos wrapped in tinfoil too hot to really touch so Dean stuffs his in the pocket of his hoodie. Sam is undeterred and tears into it without so much as a blink. Jimmy digs in, huffing and hedging his bites carefully as the steam rolls right into his face. Dean rolls his eyes and smiles.

The flight crew is still fussing with the balloon, which is laid out on the grass like a giant quilt. It’s rainbow striped and in your usual, boring balloon shape. Jimmy had wanted to ride in the one shaped like a cow but they weren’t doing rides. The flood lights around the gondola go on and one of the men steps into the opening of the balloon, holding it above his head as it drapes around his shoulders. Another man turns on the fan seated beside the gondola, the balloon ripples as it fills with air.

Dean can’t say whose idea the whole trip was, but it sure as hell wasn’t his. Albuquerque is a nightmare city. The streets are spotty at best, with potholes and cracks nearly everywhere on the main streets. No one knows how to use a turn signal, or drive the speed limit, or drive in general. The downtown traffic is a mess and the street lights change faster than if a hyperactive kindergartener was playing with the switches. Also, there’s a goddamn amusement park in the middle of the city, behind a Taco Bell and with no hotels anywhere within decent driving distance. Also, it’s hot and dry and Dean’s pretty sure he’s never used more lotion in his entire life. Even Sam is complaining about what it’s doing to his hair, and that man doesn’t even have to brush it. It’s a mess.

There are a few things that make the city worthwhile, though. For one, Dean couldn’t spit without hitting a quirky little diner and most of the food is amazing; it’s all smothered in sauces and cheese and deep fried and spicy as hell and Dean’s pretty sure he’s clogged all his arteries but it’s not like he cares. Sam’s getting his fill of avocados, too, which is great. Cas really enjoys the sunsets, standing out on the balcony of their hotel room to take pictures of the sun as it dips below the mountains and paints the sky pink. He’s also a fan of the city lights and has been obsessed with taking pictures of the valley at night. In all, it’s been a decent vacation when they’re not in the car or ignoring the way their bodies are being sucked dry by the weather.

The only issue is the damn balloon thing. September to October, Albuquerque holds the world’s largest hot air balloon gathering. People from around the world come in to fly their balloons, gawk at the balloons, and make life hell for the locals. From the ground, they’re great. They’re everywhere in the sky at all times of the day and it’s honestly kinda pretty. Dean has no problem with them, and he certainly doesn’t have a problem with his boyfriends pressing their faces to the windows inside the Impala and pointing them out to each other. He does have an issue with the idea of stepping into one and expecting it to carry his ass through the air. With no protection. While he’s standing under a flamethrower. In the air.

Dean’s always had a thing about heights. It’s not so much the being up high if he’s in a building, it’s if he has to stand on top of that building that there’s an issue. Also, there’s the plane thing. Planes are a huge no-no. It doesn’t matter how many times Sam’s told him he’s more likely to die if a vending machine fell on him, what matters is that they’re big metal death traps flying through the air at god knows how high like that’s a thing people were actually meant to do.  But. Cas and Jimmy really wanted to do this and Dean figured it wouldn’t be so bad if it was early in the morning and he wasn’t awake enough to process it.

The balloon fills with air, rippling and puffing in odd places was the whole thing starts to lift. The pilot comes over to talk to them. She’s an older woman named Mildred, and she’s entirely too chipper for anyone this early.

“So, just some safety things before we take off. One, make sure your scarves and hair are out of the way of the rigging. If it gets tangled in the ropes you’re not going to have a good time. Stay in the basket, obviously, and don’t lean over the sides. You can look, but don’t hang out of it or you could wind up a splat on the ground. Also, the fuel tanks are going to be on either side of you. Don’t fiddle with ‘em or else. And mind the fire,” she says, patting Sam on the arm, “usually we don’t have to say anything about that but for taller riders, you should just be aware of it.”

Sam chuckles.

“Any other questions?” Mildred asks.

Cas and Jimmy both shake their heads. Behind Mildred, the gondola tips upward at an angle as the balloon tries to lift off. The fan stops and the crew around it climb into the basket. One pulls a cable and fire shoots into the balloon with a deafening roar. The balloon and basket right themselves, and Mildred motions for them to follow. She jogs to it, vaulting over the basket that’s nearly as tall as she is. Sam gets in with minimal effort while Dean and Cas pull themselves in. Jimmy has the most trouble, getting his foot stuck over the edge and nothing else. Cas pulls him in the basket while Dean hides a chuckle behind his hand.

The instant the ropes are untied, Mildred pulls the cord and the fire is even louder than it was before. They ascent quickly, and Dean does his damnedest to not think about it. The basket beneath his feet doesn’t have a whole lot of give, but it still shifts when he rocks his weight back and forth between his feet. It’s not terrible, and the lift off isn’t that jarring, but his stomach still feels like it’s about to drop at any moment.

“Dude, look,” Sam says, nudging him with his shoulder.

Dean isn’t even aware he’d closed his eyes until he opens them. The sun is coming up now, tinging the sky a soft purple around the mountains. About a dozen other balloons are scattered around them, some higher, some lower, all glowing when their cords are pulled the air is heated. Dean forgets to be afraid for a moment.

“It’s beautiful,” Cas says, snuggling close to Dean’s back.

“Yeah, it is,” Dean says.

They climb higher as more balloons join them in the air. The sun peaks out fully from behind the mountains, and they begin to drift away from the cluster of color in the sky. They drift into the open areas of the city, which is surprising as the whole thing seems packed beyond belief.

“That’s the Rio Grande below us,” Mildred says, pointing out over the edge.

Like an idiot, Dean glances over the side alone with Cas, Jimmy, and Sam. The looks more like a murky stream with the sandbars exposed the way they are. The forest that surrounds it – because apparently there’s also a forest in the city – looks drier than it probably should, but maybe that’s a consequence of fall. Jimmy takes a few pictures.

“How high up are we?” Jimmy asks.

“’Bout 300 feet,” Mildred says. “We’ll go up a little higher when we fly over the Bosque, it’s just nice to be closer to the river. If we were in Colorado I’d take you to right above the surface.”

Dean gulps. His heart beats a little faster, and he knows his upper lip is starting to sweat. It’s not that high, logically, he knows that, but it’s still pretty high. If a strong wind were to pick up right now and tip the basket they’d probably die. Maybe the water would break their fall. Then again, it’s not that deep and there was that Mythbusters episode about falling into the water. How high was that dummy again? Was it only 100 feet? Because if that was the case they were all totally fucked if the wind kicked up.

Mildred pulled the cord and the balloon soared higher, letting the river shrink below them. The loud rush of air stays in Dean’s ears even after the fire goes out, and Dean feels his heart start to pound in his chest. No. This cannot be happening now. Not now of all times, dammit! If he has a panic attack up here in the sky there’s no way he can get down and he is not going to embarrass Sam and Cas and Jimmy like that. Goddammit, he really should’ve taken a Xanax before they left the hotel.

“Dean? Are you okay?” Jimmy asks, stroking Dean’s arm.

Dean bites his lip, but it must be obvious to everyone that he’s freaking the fuck out by the way they’re looking at him. Sam’s brow is furrowed, his lips in a tight line. Cas is curled close on one side while Jimmy hovers on the other. Mildred is frowning at him. God, he must look pathetic right now. He’s such a fucking embarrassment.

Dean’s trying to control his breathing. It wants to come out in huffs and stutters, but he’s got to keep it together. He’s got to. He can’t do this here, no matter how much he wants to curl up on the floor of the basket and disappear. He can’t do this right now.

“He’s having a panic attack,” Mildred says, “don’t worry hon, it happens more than you’d think.”

Dean nods. That doesn’t really help but at least he’s not the only idiot on the planet.

“Well,” Mildred says, “are you three just going to stand there or are you going to comfort your boyfriend?”

Dean’s pretty sure he’s going to be sick now. If the look on Jimmy’s face is any indication, he is, too.

“I might have been born at night but it wasn’t last night. I know you’re all together. Doesn’t bother me none, I was out chasing skirts in the 60s,” Mildred says.

“You were – do what now?” Jimmy babbles.

“Just comfort your boyfriend.”

Jimmy scoots closer, his fingers tangling with Dean’s own. Sam’s hand comes to land on his back, stroking warm circles up and down his spine, and Cas presses a soft kiss to the back of his neck. Dean gulps and takes a deep breath. Mildred is probably judging them. She probably thinks this is weird, no matter what she says. Hell, she might not but maybe if she knew they were sets of brothers…. Wait, no, that’s not helping.

Dean takes in a deep breath. Maybe if he grounds himself just a little. He’s got Cas, Jimmy, and Sam all next to him. They’re safe. They know him. They won’t judge. They love him. He’s okay. He’s in the air but the basket is solid under his feet. There’s no wind. He’s okay. The sky is a pretty blue, at least, and the city is moving towards the horizon. There are cars and buses and buildings over there, just minding their own business. He catches a whiff of coffee from Mildred’s travel mug. It smells strong and nutty and it makes Dean’s mouth water a little, no matter the fact that he probably doesn’t need to be more wired right now.

He exhales slowly and with purpose. So he’s having a panic attack. That’s not unusual but it is what it is. He’ll just wait it out. It’ll pass, it’s just going to suck. At least he has his favorite people with him.

“So, you were really chasing skirts in the 60s?” Dean asks.

Mildred laughs. “Of course. It wasn’t called free love for nothin’.”

“You got any stories to tell?”

“Oh, I do indeed.”

~~~~

The ride takes three hours. By the time Dean steps back onto solid ground his legs are wobbly but he’ll take it. He’s been off the panic attack for hours but he’s exhausted to the bone. God, those suck so hard.

Sam takes the keys to the car and makes Dean sit in the back with the twins. Mildred had told them to “take him home and spoil him” with a saucy wink and apparently that means Dean gets to be in the middle of a Novak sandwich. It’s not like he minds, though, it’s differently one of his favorite places to be.

Cas’s hand is skimming down the front of his shirt, playing with the buttons as he dips his fingers into stroke Dean’s stomach. Jimmy is nibbling on his neck, his hand resting on Dean’s thigh.

“We’re sorry,” Cas says, “we didn’t realize you would have the issues you did up so high.”

“’S okay,” Dean says, rolling his head to expose more of his neck. Jimmy’s teeth slip out to nip his skin occasionally, but he mostly sticks to kissing and licking at the sensitive spot just behind Dean’s ear lobe. Dean shudders as Cas pops the buttons on his shirt front.

“We hate it when you’re upset,” Jimmy coos. “We want to make it up to you.” He nuzzles his nose into Dean’s hair as Cas presses his lips against Dean’s. Dean allows himself to be pulled along with Cas by the lips as Jimmy spreads Dean’s thighs.

“I’m sure Sam would like to, too,” Cas says, a hairsbreadth away from Dean’s lips.

“Sam,” Jimmy says, “tell Dean how you’d like to make it up to him.”

Sam shifts in the front seat, on hand on the steering wheel and the other out of sight. He locks eyes with Dean through the rearview mirror. “I think he could use a full body massage,” Sam says.

“Oh, that’s a good idea,” Jimmy says, kneading Dean’s thigh.

“Where would you like to start, Sam?” Cas asks.

“Shoulders, maybe,” Sam shrugs. “I’d like to work my way down.”

Dean shudders and Cas chuckles against his skin.

“You can take the back, I’ll take the front,” Cas says.

“What about me?” Jimmy pouts against Dean’s skin.

“We could switch,” Cas suggests.

“Or you could pay special attention to his head. He likes a good skull massage. Maybe a neck massage. Or you could pay attention to that oral fixation he has,” Sam says.

Okay, this is how Dean’s going to die. The balloon was bad, but having all three of his boyfriends talk about what they want to do with him like he’s not even there is going to be the death of him.

“Would you like that, Dean?” Jimmy asks, “would you like it if I put something in that pretty mouth of yours? Something for you to suck on?” Jimmy thumbs his lower lip, his eyes glazed like he’s lost in the thought of it. And, if he’s honest, Dean is too.

“God, yes,” Dean says.

The pull up to the hotel just in time. Cas is already working Dean over in a loose fist and he can tell by the way Sam is squirming in the front seat that he’s having a hard time keeping it together. They don’t even bother trying to make themselves decent, they just make a mad dash towards the outdoor stairwell and to their room.

The door is opened and Dean is pushed inside, after which he’s surrounded on all fronts. The door slams shut and Dean’s got Jimmy – or at least he thinks it’s Jimmy – ripping his pants off while Sam kisses him. He’s barely got his hands tangled in Sam’s soft locks before Sam is pulling back to strip his shirt off and Cas takes his place, rolling his hips against Dean’s. He’s barely got any time to breathe in between the kisses and the hands pulling and pushing at all sides. He winds up on his side on the bed, completely naked.

Sam, Cas, and Jimmy are all naked too, their clothes scattered on the floor and on hanging off the television. Jimmy gets on the bed first, knee walking until his dick is right above Dean’s face. Sam and Cas then join him, Sam settling in behind him and Cas at his groin. It actually starts with a massage, as Sam had suggested. Jimmy rakes his nails across Dean’s skull while Cas rubs his chest. Behind him, Sam presses the heel of his palms into Dean’s shoulders. It feels nice, and Dean groans as the knots in his body release. Sam whispers a swear behind him.

Dean’s a little dizzy. It might be the remnants of the panic or the fact that he’s getting a really good massage, or maybe it’s a combination of the two, but he feels soft and floaty. It’s good and calming and that means he almost jumps when Sam’s tongue touches at the soft flesh of his ass. Cas chuckles in front of him, running his own tongue up the vein in Dean’s cock. Dean shudders, and Sam bites into his left ass cheek.

Cas and Sam don’t waste much time after that, Sam sliding his tongue against his pucker and Cas licking the slit of Dean’s cock. Dean moans, biting his lip.

“No, no,” Jimmy says thumbing Dean’s lip from between his teeth, “don’t you dare try to keep those lovely noises quiet. I want to hear you. Cas wants to hear you. Sam wants to hear you.”

As if to prove Jimmy’s point, Sam spears his tongue into Dean’s hole while Cas takes the crown of Dean’s cock into his mouth.

“Shit,” Dean whimpers.

“That’s it, baby,” Jimmy coos, “let us hear you.” He’s stroking Dean’s hair and cradling his head.

Sam swirls his tongue in circles over Dean’s hole before licking long, broad strokes up it. He alternates between licking and nipping at Dean’s cheeks before diving back in. Dean feels his pleased grunts vibrate up his spine. Cas, on the other side, is bobbing slow and steady up and down Dean’s dick, shifting his angle until he can take Dean to the root and swallow.

“Fuck!” Dean moans.

“Tell me how it feels,” Jimmy says.

“”S good,” Dean groans.

“Yeah?” Jimmy asks, scratching up and down the base of Dean’s skull, “Sam’s so good with his tongue.”

Dean groans, shuddering and closing his eyes. He’s not going to last very long if he’s subjected to this for much longer.

“Cas is okay,” Jimmy says, followed by a loud smack and a yip. “Okay, he’s more than okay. He’s marvelous. He doesn’t have a gag reflex.” Dean’s legs twitch and he threads his fingers through Cas’s hair. Jimmy’s hand joins his own, guiding Cas to bob faster. “He used to practice on me, back when we were in college.”

“Fuck… Jimmy… you gotta stop talkin’,” Dean says, more breath than words.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I’m gonna… I’m not… not gonna,” Dean cuts himself off with a sharp inhale as Sam slides on finger inside his body. He presses into the glorious little bundle of nerves with laser like focus.

“Shhh, baby, it’s okay,” Jimmy says.

Dean lets out a warbling cry, half sob, and half moan. His whole body is on fire and he’s going to die if he has to stay still for much longer.

Jimmy’s cock slides over Dean’s lips and he takes his opportunity to let out some of his frustrations. He pulls Jimmy close and holds his waist, taking as much of Jimmy as he can into his mouth. Jimmy groans and Dean sucks hard, the way he knows Jimmy likes.

“Fuck, baby,” Jimmy sighs, “keep doing that.”

So Dean does.

It’s not long before Jimmy is babbling, his hips desperate to trust into Dean’s mouth. Dean feels the pleasured moans of Sam and Cas as they suck and lick at him, both fucking their firsts if the slick smacking sounds are anything to go by.

It all builds and builds until Dean just can’t take it anymore. He pulls off Jimmy’s cock and buries his face into Jimmy’s hip, moaning as his orgasm over takes him and his body trembles. Jimmy pets his hair as Cas swallows him down and Sam continues rubbing his prostate. Then, all at once it’s too much and Dean squirms. Cas and Sam pull away, kissing each other, then Jimmy. Dean sighs, too worn out to really contribute and lets them work it out between them. Sam comes first with a groan, then Cas, nearly silent save for the almost pained gasp he always gives. Jimmy is last and loudest, and some of his come hits Dean in the face. Before he can apologize, Dean wipes it away with a finger and offers it to Cas, who takes it easily.

The four of them cuddle up in the center of the bed, not speaking. It’s nice and warm and Dean feels completely safe. He falls asleep.

Lazy Sunday

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 12 | rosemoonweaver vs. @jhoomwrites
Prompt: Cake
Ship: Dean/Victor
Word Count: 1,442
Tags/Warnings: Explicit sexual content, anal sex, bottom!Dean/top!Victor
Summary: Victor and Dean eat cake in bed. 
AO3 Link

“You’re going to get crumbs on the bed,” Victor said.

Dean shrugged, pulling the fork from his mouth. “I’m gonna have to change the sheets anyway.”

Victor rolled his eyes, sliding his hands up Dean’s sides and back down to rest at Dean’s hips. They were both naked, as they had been since Victor had gotten off work the night before, though they hadn’t spent all that time in bed. There were a few moments when Dean had actually allowed Victor to move around on his own, whether it be to shower to call his sister or get a sandwich, but for the most part, Dean was adamant that they stay naked and in bed.

“What are Sundays for,” Dean had said, “if you can’t lay around the house pants free and stay in bed?”

And, well, Victor supposed he had a point.

“Where’d you get that anyway,” Victor asked as Dean lifted the fork and offered him a bite. It was white cake with strawberry frosting. Not the kind of frosting that came in a can, either, it was the kind of frosting that tasted like real, fresh strawberries.

Dean blushed and pursed his lips. “I made it.”

“You made this?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, I bake,” Dean said, though he ducked his head and ran the tines of the fork through the frosting.

“I know, but what’s the occasion?”

Dean shrugged and shoved another forkful into Victor’s mouth.

Victor rolled his eyes but ate it anyway, soothing his hands up and down Dean’s back.

“What’s bothering you?” Victor asked, pulling his boyfriend closer with strong hands on his shoulder blades.

Dean set the plate down on the nightstand, letting himself be tugged closer until Victor was holding him by the back of the neck, their faces a few inches away.

“Nothin’,” Dean said, leaning in for a kiss.

Victor kissed back, pulling away when Dean’s tongue darted out.  “You know you suck at lying.”

“I do not!” Dean scoffed, “I’m an excellent liar. I told your mom she makes great beef stroganoff.”

Victor snorted. “Yes, but I know you. You can’t lie to me.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

“So… spill.”

Dean sighed. “I dunno, it’s just… feel off I guess.”

“Off?”

“Yeah, off. Like just not good.”

“Don’t you be getting sick on me now, Winchester. I don’t do nursemaid well.”

“Awh, come on babe, I’m sure you’d look great in a nurse’s outfit.”

“Isn’t the cop uniform enough?”

“Well, for now, sure but I can only be desperate enough to get out of a traffic ticket so many times before my hot cop might get suspicious.”

Victor snorted, kissing Dean’s cheek. “Seriously, though, are you sick?”

Dean groaned, letting his head fall to Victor’s shoulder. “No,” he mumbled.

“Then what’s up?”

“I dunno. Kinda bummed.”

“Why?”

“I guess I just, we’ve been living together for what, a month now?”

“Just about, I think.”

“How come you never have the guys over then? I mean, it’s your house you can do whatever, I don’t care, but it’s like the only people here are you and me all the time and you always go to Benny’s for poker and we met your sister for dinner when she could’ve just come here. I dunno. Just forget about it.”

“You’re worried I’m hiding you.”

Dean shrugged and Victor knew he’d nailed it on the head. “Babe – “

“No, no, I get it. It’s new. Like, you’ve got an ex-wife and everyone’s got this image of you or whatever and it’s like a transition period or whatever but –“

“My sister knows,” Victor said, “that’s what the whole dinner thing was about. Introducing her to my boyfriend, the old-fashioned way.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So what’s the worry.”

Dean sighed, pulling himself up on his elbows. “If you tell anyone what I’m about to say I swear to god I will break up with you,” Dean said.

Victor smirked, but he bit his tongue. Dean’s habit of being overly dramatic was adorable. It was often tied to protecting whatever image of himself he thought he needed to portray, so it was a little less adorable in that sense but it was still amusing. Maybe one of these days Victor would find a way to break him of that. After all, it had been Dean who’d found a way to drag him out of the closet, at least to himself, so if there was a way for Victor to do it maybe there was hope for Dean.

Dean licked his lips, his eyes landing on the potted plant on the other end of the room. “When I was little my mom was like, one of those homemakers, you know? Like, she did the whole on Sunday, Christmas parties, invite God and everyone over and feed them ‘til they pop kind of thing. And after she died and Sam and I went off to college, I guess I missed it. I haven’t really had much of a reason to do any homemaking or whatever since then so I guess I just kinda hoped…”

“You want to be a househusband?”

“Well, I mean, kinda. I like having people over and cooking for them and shit.”

“You want my poker buddies to come over so you can make them jalapeno poppers. And you want to feed my sister.”

Dean shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “I guess.”

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing. We could have a barbeque next Friday if you wanted, have some people over.”

“But next Friday is your birthday and you were gonna go –“

“Maybe I wanna stay in?”

Dean perked up a little at that. “You’d be okay with that? Would you friends…”

“They’re gonna have to get used to it if they’re really my friends. If not, fuck ‘em. I’m kinda crazy about you, you know.” He leaned forward, planting a firm kiss on Dean’s lips.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get sappy,” Dean said. He smiled into their next kiss.

Victor laid a quick smack to Dean’s ass, causing him to jerk in Victor’s lap. “I’ll get as sappy as I want.”

They kissed again, slow and gentle, each kiss longer than the last. Dean would up laying across Victor’s body, rolling his hips every once in a while. It was enough to get Victor, and his dick, interested in a little more than just making out, and Victor let his hands slide down Dean’s back and to the globes of his ass.

Dean sighed when Victor’s finger breached him. He was still a little wet from early in the day, and Victor was able to slide two fingers inside before Dean whined and squirmed, fidgeting to get a better angle.

Victor flipped them over, settling himself between Dean’s legs and hiking his knees up over his shoulder. He found the lube where it had gotten lost in the blankets at the end of the bed and slicked up his fingers. Dean always tended to get needy around this part, demanding Victor just hurry up and fuck him, but Victor was nothing if not thorough.

Dean’s sharp little gasp when Victor finally slid his cock inside was something he’d never get tired of. That, and the warm pulsing of Dean around his cock, like a heartbeat, fast but steady. It was too good for words. Victor pulled out slow then drove back in at the same pace. It didn’t take long for Dean to whine, to scrape his nails down Victor’s back and beg for a little harder, a little faster. Victor always held out at first. He wanted to make Dean desperate for it, drive him to the point where he was curling his toes against the small of Victor’s back before he gave in. He would start out taunting and then dissolve into a strung-out mess until finally, Victor snapped his hips forward.

“Yes!” Dean cried, “Oh, god, yes! That! Keep doing – aaahhhaa – that!”

It was like music.

The harder Victor thrust the faster Dean pushed his hips backward. The faster Victor thrust, the more his thighs and gut tingled with his impending release. Dean felt it too, his hand flying up and down his own dick as quick as he could manage. Still, Victor held off until he watched Dean arc forward, eyes shut tight as a wail fell from his lips and he came. Dean squeezed tighter around Victor’s cock and he came too, with a gasp.

When they caught their breaths and Victor rolled off Dean snuggled in close, arm draped lazily over Victor’s waist.

“I’m crazy about you, too, you know,” Dean said.

“Yeah, I know.”

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

Maybe Florida Isn’t So Bad

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 10 | rosemoonweaver vs. @ladysimoriah
Prompt: humidity
Ship: Donna/Jody
Word Count: 2,508
Tags/Warnings: canon verse, first kiss, bisexual Jody Mills, demisexual Donna Hanscum
Summary: Jody and Donna Have a case in Florida, and Florida sucks. 
AO3 Link

Jody lay flat across the motel bed, spread out like a starfish. She’d stripped down to her bra and panties, not even bothering with shorts or a tank top. It was way too hot for that shit. Once Donna got out of the shower and got dressed, then she could worry about putting actual clothes on, but for now, it was more work than it was worth. Florida sucked. It was bad enough that was in the nineties, but the humidity in the air made if feel at like it was a hundred.

Donna came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped tightly around her body and one wrapped around her hair. The thick cloud of steam from her shower followed her, cranking up the heat in the room.

“Ugh,” Jody grumbled, “I hate Florida.”

“It’s not so bad,” Donna said, walking toward her bed and digging some fresh clothes out her duffle bag. “’s just a little warm.”

“And sticky. And wet. And gross,” Jody said. “Remind me again why we didn’t just make Sam and Dean do this?”

“Something about a holy week. Didn’t know they were religious, but ya learn somethin’ new every day.”

Jody smiled. Donna could be so cute sometimes. “I hardly think their annual week in Vegas counts as a holy week.”

“Oh,” Donna said, a pink tinge rising on her cheeks.

Jody chuckled to herself and averted her eyes while Donna changed. She was very self-conscious about her body, which Jody absolutely didn’t understand. Donna was beautiful, but she was always worried about losing weight or looking too frumpy. It was obviously crap to anyone who had eyes, but Donna was adamant that she could always loose a few more pounds and always got that sad look on her face about an hour after she allowed herself to have a couple donuts. Jody suspected that her dick ex Doug was to blame for that. Jody really wished she’d punched him in the face when she had the chance.

“Okay, I’m changed,” Donna announced, holding her arms out and smiling timidly as if waiting for Jody’s approval. She was wearing blue jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was still well and pulled back into a ponytail.

“Looks good,” Jody said, sitting up and rolling her neck, “why jeans though? You’re gonna boil out there.”

Donna shrugged. “I only brought blue jeans.”

“It’s Florida in August and you’re from South Dakota.”

“It’s just a little warm.” Donna smiled a bit, but there was a tiny little quirk around the corners of her lips that gave her away. Jody chose not to push it, though and dug through her own suitcase to find a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the rest of the day.

~~~

In hindsight, perhaps Jody should have called one of her contacts to take care of the kelpie. The swamps were somehow ten degrees hotter than everywhere else (or at least they felt that way) and the air was so thick it was hard to breathe. Also, it smelled like rotting plants and she was pretty sure she was getting a wicked sunburn, even though Donna had made sure the applied sunscreen. And there were alligators. Kelpies were dangerous, sure, but all you had to do was not ride them. Alligators, on the other hand, could have easily flipped their tiny little boat and ripped an arm or two off if they wanted to.

“See anything yet?” Jody asked, her eyes following Donna’s gaze off towards the shore to the right.

“Just a couple o’ birds, I think,” Donna said.

Jody sighed, glancing at her watch. They’d been out for four hours at that point and the sun was still high in the sky.

“This is kinda fun, you know?” Donna said, turning to face Jody. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were red. “It reminds me of ice fishing with my dad.”

“You used to ice fish?”

“Oh, yeah, every winter. My dad and my uncle and the cousins would go up to the cabin every year and see if we could catch anything. Usually, we just went home with wet bottoms.”

“Huh. You know, ice fishing sounds a lot more fun than this right now.”

“It was nice,” Donna said. “I haven’t been since I was twelve.”

“Why not?”

Donna frowned, looking out over the glassy water under them. “Pop passed away and mom wasn’t much for fishing. Uncle Abe couldn’t look after four kids on his own.”

“I’m sorry,” Jody said.

“Thanks. It was fun while it lasted, though.”

“I used to do target practice with my mom. She was a cop, too,” Jody said, “wiped the floor with me every competed until I was fourteen. I was a horrendous shot.”

Donna laughed. “Shut your mouth! No! I can’t believe that.”

“No, it’s true. I was terrible. Of course, I was nearsighted and refused to wear my glasses under my safety goggles.”

“Did you wind up getting contacts?”

“Nah. I just changed my mind when I got into high school because Amber Studebaker said people who wore glasses were hot. I wore them all the time after that.”

“Ah. You did it to impress a girl,” Donna said, playfully punching Jody in the shoulder. “that’s cute.” She smiled then, wrinkling her nose.

Jody smiled and shrugged, despite herself. “Yeah, well. Didn’t do too much in the long run though. She wasn’t interested in me anyway.”

“Obviously she needed glasses,” Donna said, her eyes wide and lips held in a circle when she seemed to realize what she said.

Jody was just about to say something when there was a splash behind her, and Donna dove for the shotgun sitting in the bed of the boat next to her.

The kelpie never stood a chance.

~~~~

Jody and Donna wound up dragging themselves back into the motel room after dark. The kelpie itself wasn’t that hard to take down. Donna was able to wound it with several shotgun blasts so that it wasn’t charging or thrashing too much for Jody to nail it in the heart with a silver bullet. The thing exploded into a jelly after that and Jody and Donna were covered in it. They had to spend two more hours in the swamp after that, the goop drying on their skin and boy was that fun. The kelpie slime did pretty much the exact opposite of aloe vera and their skin stung and burned faster than it had earlier. Their sweat wasn’t even washing it off, and by the time they were both back on solid land and in Jody’s van they’d poured two bottles worth of water out on themselves in the hopes that it would wash off. At least they weren’t bleeding, though. Jody didn’t even want to think about what that goop would feel like in an open wound.

Donna offered Jody the shower first. Jody didn’t even try to fight her on that one. She was too hot and if she had to spend more than five more minutes with this crap on her she might wind up clawing her skin off. The water was ice cold when it hit her skin but it felt nice. She just stood under the spray for a bit, letting the heat leach off her skin before she borrowed Donna’s body wash and scrubbed the gunk off her skin.

The relief of her shower pretty much evaporated when she stepped out of the bathroom, however. It was too damn hot, again, and even though she’d dried off her skin she was dripping with sweat in the next five minutes. Donna just nodded at her before taking her turn with the shower.

Jody dressed with minimal effort, slipping on a t-shirt and underwear before throwing her towel on the bed post and leaning up against the headboard of her bed. She flipped through a few channels before settling on the local news and texting Claire and Alex to let them know she and Donna were safe and headed home, soon. She got a simple “K” from both of them before rolling her eyes and plugging her phone in. It wasn’t really like she expected the girls to give her a play-by-play of their days but it would be nice to actually talk to them more than once a week. Claire was off in Phoenix, tracking down a vamp nest with a few other hunters and Alex was in school, hopefully studying but probably not. They rarely told her what they were up to or if they got back to their motel or dorm rooms safe, no matter how many times Jody said she’d appreciate even a text at the end of the night. She trusted them, though. It was a dangerous world out there, but they could handle themselves for the most part. And, if they couldn’t Jody would kill whoever or whatever hurt her girls and no one would ever find their body.

Donna came out of the bathroom, same as she had previous, towel wrapped tightly around her body. Jody was too tired to bother rolling over, so she just shut her eyes and waved her hand at Donna. It didn’t make much sense for her to worry about whether or not Jody saw her naked. They were both friends and over the age of thirty. Jody might’ve been keeping fit over the years but she definitely had more pudge in places than she actually cared to. She wasn’t bothered by nakedness.

“Donna, can I ask you something?” Jody asked, rolling her head against the headboard. She kept her eyes closed though.

“Sure, Jodes, what’s on your mind.”

“Why are you so worried about me seeing you change clothes?”

“Oh. Uh. I’m just…” Donna’s voice trailed off as she padded around barefoot on the threadbare carpet, “I guess I’m embarrassed,” Donna said.

Jody scowled, still with her eyes closed. “Embarrassed about being naked? You know I won’t judge you or anything.”

“Yeah, well –“

“I’m serious. You could have three heads for all I care. And I know you don’t. And you’re not fat if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Donna sighed. “I know. You’ve said that several times.”

“So, what’s up?”

Donna was quiet for a minute while the bed across the room squeaked. “You can open your eyes now,” she said.

Jody opened her eyes to find Donna sitting cross-legged on the bed. She was wearing long flannel pajama pants and a tank top.

Jody scooted towards the center of her own bed, facing her. “What’s up?” She asked again.

“I – “ Donna glanced down towards the floor. “I’m just being silly.”

Jody sighed. “Donna…”

Donna withered a little more, playing with the frayed edge of her pant leg. Jody knew she was giving her the “mom look” and she kinda felt a little guilty about that, but she was curious. It wasn’t the first time Donna had done this, but it hadn’t always been this way. When they first started hunting together, she’d walked in on Donna while she was in the shower and there was nothing odd about it. She’d helped Alex patch up Donn’s hip after she got a particularly nasty scratch from a werewolf last spring. It was a sudden thing and Jody was fine with it at first, but she couldn’t help but be curious.

“You know how you said you tried to get the girl’s attention in high school? Amber Studebaker?” Donna said. Her voice was soft and barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I, uh, I never had that experience with that.”

“Oh.”

“Not that I haven’t… I just, it takes a lot for me to… find anyone attractive. And up until recently, it was just men. I didn’t know that I could… and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but it’s out there now, so…”

“Oh,” Jody said, “Is that all?”

Donna shrugged, “I know, it’s silly –“

“No, no, no! I didn’t mean it like that,” Jody said, rising to her feet and standing in front of Donna. She crouched down on the carpet, setting her hands on Donna’s knees so that she had to look her in the eyes. “I don’t think it’s silly at all.”

“No? Jody, I’m a grown woman and I’ve just now got a crush on another woman for the first time. That’s a little…”

“Normal. It’s perfectly normal.”

Donna shrugged.

“You don’t need to feel bad about it. It’s normal for you, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Donna squirmed on the bed, “even though it’s directed at you?”

Jody chuckled, “Donna, I don’t know how you don’t know this by now, but I think you’re beautiful, inside and out. You’re my best friend. And, if you’re interested in perusing this I’m willing to go at your pace.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Donna asked.

Jody shrugged. “Well, the last guy I went on a date with was a shapeshifter who tried to kill me so I doubt it could end any worse than that.”

Donna snorted. “You mean it?”

“Of course,” Jody said.

Donna looked down at her, a shaky little smile on her lips. “I’d like that.”

Jody leaned up, wrapping Donna in a tight hug. “Can I take you to dinner when we get back home?”

“Only if I can kiss you?”

Jody leaned down and let her lips brush against Donna’s, keeping her hands settled around Donna’s shoulders. Her fingertips brushed against the long hair on Donna’s back, which had curled into loose waves. Donna’s hands came up to rest tentatively at Jody’s hips. After a few cautious kisses, Jody coaxed Donna’s lips open with her tongue, then licked a single swipe against Donna’s tongue. Donna responded, though timidly at first, by kissing a bit more insistently and slipping her own tongue into Jody’s mouth. It didn’t take long after that for the two to guide each other forward and back for their lips and for Jody to slide her fingers through Donna’s silky hair. Donna’s hands though, stayed where they were and Jody pulled back after a bit to breathe.

“You okay?” Jody asked.

“Yeah,” Donna said, a little breathless, “can we, um, maybe take a break?”

Jody skimmed her hands down Donna’s arms, letting them on her hands. “Of course. Like, I said, we’ll go at your pace.”

Donna chuckled and jerked Jody down to sit next to her on the bed. She plopped down, and the two of them sat in the quiet of the motel room for a while as the air conditioner hummed in vain behind them.

“You know, the girls are going to freak out on us,” Donna said.

Jody chuckled. “You know, I kinda hope so.”

“You think we should tell them?”

“It would probably be fair.”

“Oh,” Donna said, “we got get them back for all the things they forgot to tell us and wait until Thanksgiving.”

“That’s mean,” Jody said, bumping her shoulder against Donna’s, “I’m so in.”

Tag List: @purgatoan, @maliciouslycreative, @deadlykittenkay, @samanddeaninpanties, @jerksarehot

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

Nightmares and Teddy Bears

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 8 | rosemoonweaver vs. @lux-tuli
Prompt: Fuzzy Wuzzy
Ship: Anna/Ruby
Word Count: 1,517
Tags/Warnings: domestic, kid fic, schizophrenia, mental illness, slice of life, adoption, nightmares, anna and ruby are moms, AU – human
Summary: Jesse had a bad dream. Unfortunately, that’s common these days, and Anna starts to worry.
A/N: Apparently, color prompts are not my strong suit. The “color” is the teddy bear, Mr. Fuzzy. 
AO3 Link

Anna awoke with the vague, eerie feeling that she was being watched. She held her breath for a moment, talking in the darkness around her before shifting away from her wife and rolling her head towards the door. The hall light was still out, but there was a vague shape at the side of the bed and a tiny whimper.

Anna rolled over, flailing at the lamp on her bedside table until she was finally able to turn the light on. There, standing next to the dresser was Jesse, teddy bear clutched tight to his chest, tear stains on his cheeks.

“Oh, baby,” Anna breathed, flipping the blanket off and sitting up in bed. Beside her, Ruby grumbled awake.

“What happened? Why are you crying?” Anna asked, thumbing the tears away from his chubby little cheeks.  

“Bad dream,” he whimpered, chin tucked close to his chest.

Anna wrapped him in her arms, holding him close to her chest and rocking back and forth. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on?” Ruby asked, flipping on her own light and scooting into Anna’s space.

“Jesse had a bad dream.”

Ruby reached over her shoulder, stroking Jesse’s soft hair. The two locked eyes for a brief moment. Jesse had been having nightmares more and more often and it was starting to worry both Anna and Ruby. The adoption had only been final for about six months, and the nightmare had started at around the same time. Ruby had worried that the two might have something to do with each other, and as they kept getting worse, Anna was starting to worry the same thing. She’d thought, at first, that he might be the same way that she was as a child, experiencing night terrors and horrible vivid dreams for years before her first psychotic episode as a young adult. The thought had worried her much more than the nightmares being a result of adoption stress. Now though, she wasn’t sure which of the issues she would prefer them to be. Psychosis, as well as Anna,  had managed it so far, was not fun in the slightest, but it broke her heart that the reason he was stressed might be her fault in some way.

Jesse’s therapist still hadn’t come to a decision yet. She’d said that he was a fairly happy, pleasant kid, and the nightmare were unpleasant, but she wasn’t willing to rule out stress just yet. After all, the kid had just been adopted, had a birthday, and started a new grade all in the span of a few months. That had to be enough to stress any kid out.

“You wanna sleep with mom and me?” Ruby asked.

Jesse nodded against Anna’s chest. “Mr. Fuzzy, too,” he mumbled.

“Of course. Can’t leave Mr. Fuzzy out,” Ruby said, stroking the hair on the back of his neck.

She scooted back on her side of the bed, pulling the blanket down and flicking off her bedside light. Anna pulled Jesse into her lap, not an easy feat considering he was nearly sixty pounds of sleepy, dead weight, and scooted back on the bed. Jesse climbed off her lap and shimmied onto the bed, resting his head on Ruby’s pillow. He looked up at the two of them, eyes still wet but no longer whimpering, and curled into Ruby as she lay down.

“You okay there, kiddo?”

Jesse nodded.

Anna frowned, curling around her son and stroking his back. “I love you little bug,” she said.

“Love you too, mommas.”

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. Ruby followed soon after, and Anna didn’t get a chance to talk to her before she did. Anna lay awake for most of the night, falling into a light and fitful sleep when she actually slept.

~~~

The next morning was a weekend, so at least Anna and Ruby could sleep in a little before they had to get up and to things. Or, that was the plan at least. Jesse was determined to get up and play not later than nine in the morning, so Ruby graciously volunteered to feed him and toss a ball around with him while Anna got a little more sleep. She finally crawled out of bed a little after ten in the morning and dragged herself into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. She was halfway through her first cup when Ruby came back in through the back door, her face red already.

“He’s really making you work for it today, isn’t he?” Anna asked.

Ruby laughed, pulling two water bottles out of the fridge. “He’s getting fast.”

“How’s he doing today?”

Ruby leaned back against the fridge door, screwing the cap off the water bottle and chugging half of it. “Same as he usually is.”

Anna nodded, staring out the window. Jesse was kicking a soccer ball around in the grass, kicking it too far ahead of him and racing to get it before whatever imaginary players he was pretending to play against got it first. He kicked the ball at the fence and jumped up and down, pumping his fists in the air.

“I’m worried about him,” Anna said.

Ruby slid up beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She set her chin on Anna’s shoulder and sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“What if it’s our fault,” Anna said.

Ruby frowned, and Anna could see her rolling her eyes out of the corners of her own.

“Babe, we’ve been through this. Whatever’s up with Jesse isn’t because of us.”

“But if it’s stress it’s gotta be us right?”

“If it is he’d be having these issues regardless of who winded up adopting him.”

Anna sighed. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” She swirled her lukewarm coffee around in the cup.

“You’re worried it isn’t just stress, aren’t you?”

“It’s too early to tell if it’s anything more serious,” Anna said, draining the last of her cup.

“And that bothers you.”

“You know it does.”

Ruby sighed, squeezing Anna tighter around the middle. “If it is there’s not a lot we can do about it until something more happens.”

“I know,” Anna groaned. “I just wish we could do something now. I don’t like it that he’s having trouble like this. If it’s just stress and it’s only nightmares and night terror, why can’t they give him something to help him sleep?”

Ruby stroked up and down Anna’s arms, swaying back and forth softly. “I don’t know babe.”

“And if it’s more than that you’d think they’d know.”

Ruby hummed again. “You’d think.”

“I’m just worried, Ruby. I don’t want him to have to live his life needing medication. I know it helps and if he has to have it I want him to have it, don’t get me wrong, I just – I don’t want him to have to need it.”

“Yeah, but, at least he has you to help him through it if it is something more serious.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “I could barely manage myself for years. I’m not exactly a role model for managing mental illness.”

“Maybe not, but at least you understand it. If it was me before I met you, geez, I dunno. I don’t think I would’ve even known what to do about it. I’d probably say and do all the wrong things. At least you know what he’s going through. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

“Maybe.”

“And yeah, it took you a while to get a handle on it, but you’ve got it pretty much under control now.”

“After thirty years.”

“Better than sixty.”

Anna sighed again, setting her coffee cup down on the counter and turning in Ruby’s arms. “I guess.”

“Think of it this way, if it is something serious, like some kind of sign of psychosis later you have a better understanding of that then most people do. If it’s just stress it will go away and we’ll look back on this and give Jesse shit about it when he has his own kids who keep him up at night. But if it’s more than that, well, maybe there’s a reason you’re his mom.”

Anna huffed a chuckle. “Fate? Really, Ruby?”

Ruby shrugged. “I dunno. Could be. I don’t know all the secrets of the universe.”

Anna shook her head and kissed her wife on the forehead.

“I just know,” Ruby said, “that if anyone is cut out to be the best mom for Jesse, it’s you.”

“I dunno, I’d say there’s definitely one other person who might be up there, too.”

Ruby rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta teach the kid to kick a ball.”

They pulled away and Ruby chugged the rest of her water before tossing the empty bottle in the trash and swiping the still unopened bottle off the counter. “Speaking of which,” she pointed towards the back door.

Anna watched her go, smiling as she watched her wife and child play. Hopefully, the nightmares would fade over time, but if they didn’t, well, she and Ruby would be there for their son, no matter what.

Tagging: @samanddeaninpanties, @purgatoan

Lipstick and Love Notes

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 8 | rosemoonweaver vs. @mariaghost
Prompt: Jelly Bean
Ship: Meg/Abaddon
Word Count: 1,610
Tags/Warnings: AU – human, 1920′s (ish?), burlesque dancers, burlesque dancer!Abaddon, nudity, mild sexual content, open relationships, love notes (more like lust notes honestly), lipstick kink (if that’s a thing)
A/N: The prompt is the color of Meg’s lipstick. I didn’t name it, but the color can be found over here. 
Summary: There’s a note on Abaddon’s vanity. 
AO3 Link

There was a note on her vanity.

Abaddon was no stranger to love notes. She got them at least three times a week. So many lonely men would try to sneak her letters, whether they slid them to the server girls or tried to sneak backstage to leave them for her to find, or even slipped them into her bodice when she walked the floor, but very few of them actually succeeded in catching her attention. Most of the time she checked the names at the bottom first. If it was someone important, a senator or a businessman, or a bootlegger, she’d respond with a little light flirting. If it was a name she didn’t recognize, it went in the trash. Most of them were the same. They’d compare her to the moon, to the sun, drown in the dark pools of her eyes, and beg to lose themselves in her legs. Most of them were written on the same kind of paper, too, all place white and black in. There was so little imagination to any of them.

This one, however, was different. For one, it was on her vanity. No man had ever managed to get backstage unless of course they were invited, and Abaddon hadn’t invited anyone back in at least a week. None of the other girls had, either, to her knowledge. This note was also in an actual envelope sealed with wax.

Abaddon pulled her silk robe tighter around her shoulders, popping the wax off the envelope with her nail. The note had been written on light pink paper.

Temptress:

I’m not one for poetry, but you’ve spurred me to put ink to paper.

You’re wicked, igniting me to my core, burning me from the inside out, and I can’t be bothered to care.

The way you bat your eyes, the way you flaunt your soft curves; I just can’t help myself.

I haven’t known the touch of a woman in years and yet – you make me ache.

I have to wonder if you’re soft all the time or if you bite and rake your nails down the backs of those fortunate to lie with you.

I wonder, do your thighs tremble when you’re breathless in pleasure like mine do when I dare to pretend the one touching me is you?

It was signed with a single letter, an M in hasty, jagged script.

Abaddon blinked a few times before folding the note back up and slipping it back into its envelope. It was certainly one of the more explicit notes she’d ever gotten. Not that she minded, though. She’d take explicit over the flowery notes any day of the week. The M was new, though. She thought back to the men she knew who frequented the club, even the ones that usually paid attention to the other girls. She drew a blank but resolved to take the note home with her.

~~~~

I saw your fan dance.

It’s funny, that you’re up on stage flutter those glittery fans, your breasts peeking from behind those feathery curtains like you’re some kind of angel but I know better.

You’re wicked; some kind of demon sent to drag me to hell.

I would go willingly because even the fires of damnation couldn’t scorch me the way your gaze does.

Even Hell might be some kind of Heaven if I got the chance to taste the sweat on your skin or the nectar between your thighs.

–    M

It was the second note Abaddon had gotten in less than a week. Apparently, this M was a new admirer of hers, but she hadn’t seen anyone new in the crowd the past few nights. Perhaps it was a shy man who’d only now got the courage to leave her messages. That was fine, too, but she wished she knew who it was. If it was someone who’d bribed their way back here it was fine, but it was someone who’d snuck back that could be dangerous. She decided she’d wait a week to tell the manager, Alistair. If he thought it was something to worry about, then she’d keep an eye out, but as the notes were only lustful and didn’t demand any kind of meeting yet, she didn’t figure it would be an issue.

She slipped the note into her purse and decided to take it back home and keep it with the other one.

~~~~

Alistair had placed an additional bouncer at the entrance to the dressing rooms, so whoever left the note by Abaddon’s flower vase must have been paying. This was the fourth note in as many weeks, written on the same paper, signed with the same initial. She’d have to ask the bouncer who he’d let pass because she was starting to get curious about this mysterious admirer of hers.

I wonder if you’ve been keeping these notes. You must get so many day-to-day that it isn’t even of consequence to you. I might be as easily overlooked here as I am among the crowd. But you’re not. You could never be. How no one has snatched you up and away from this world, from my eyes, is a wonder to me.

Perhaps you aren’t interested in their affections? Perhaps they could never please you the way you’d want? I wonder if you’ve ever know the touch of a woman?

–    M

Abaddon smiled, reading the note over again. So, this mystery man wasn’t actually a man at all. This could be interesting. She hadn’t taken a female lover in quite some time, but she wasn’t opposed.

Abaddon tucked her admirer’s note into her purse and set out to write her own note, asking her admirer to meet sometime within the next week. She slipped the note under the flower vase and hoped for the best. It stayed there for there more days and then it was gone.

~~~~

Abaddon hadn’t gotten another note in a week and a half. It was a little disappointing if she were honest. It was intriguing to have another woman interested in her instead of yet another man. Perhaps her offer to meet had scared her admirer off. Some women liked to entertain the thought of a female lover but were too afraid to make the leap. It was alright, though, Abaddon had been there herself, once upon a time. She did hope it would change for her admirer, though. It would be a shame if she didn’t allow herself to explore because she was afraid.

There was a soft knock at Abaddon’s dressing room door. Her set was over, so it was probably just one of the girls.

“Come in,” she called, watching the door through the mirror. It swung open, and Abaddon locked eyes with a woman she’d never seen before through the mirror. “Can I help you?” She asked.

“You requested a meeting,” the woman said.

“Did I?”

“Your note was addressed to me, I believe.”

Abaddon swung around on her stool, crossing her ankles and leaning her legs to the side, letting her knee fall out of the open slit of her robe. “You must be M, then.”

“Meg. Masters. But you can call me Meg.”

“The bootlegger’s wife?”

“He knows I’m here,” Meg said, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind her. She was wearing a fur around her shoulders, but other than that her outfit attracted no attention. She wasn’t even wearing make-up aside from the nude pink lipstick on her lips.

“If he wanted to proposition me he could have done it himself.”

“Oh, believe me, he would have.” Meg was now standing less than a foot away and Abaddon allowed her gaze to fall down Meg’s form. The dress she wore didn’t hint at any of the curves of her body. “I’m here on my own account.”

“Oh?”

Meg hummed, stepping into Abaddon’s space. “I was wondering if you’d accompany me for the evening. My husband has business to attend to, so I’ll be alone the whole night.”

Abaddon smirked. Meg’s perfume wafted off her skin. It was a soft, spicy scent like cloves and sugar. “I don’t usually keep housewives company.”

Meg laughed. “I’m not looking for a lot more than company.”

“You’re looking for… what exactly?” Abaddon asked. She knew good and well what Meg was interested in but she wanted to hear her say it. She wasn’t one to be propositioned in vague terms.

“Sex,” Meg said, slipping her hand up Abaddon’s knee, stopping midway up her thigh.

“Is it going to be worth my while?” Abaddon asked.

Meg smirked, her eyes lingering at the top of Abaddon’s robe and the hint of cleavage there. “Definitely.”

~~~~

It had been three weeks since Meg took her back to the home she shared with her husband; three weeks since they writhed together on Meg’s silk sheets hands tugging in hair and tongues laving against skin. It had been some of the best sex Abaddon had had in a long time. It had been a shame it had come to an end so soon.

There was a note on Abaddon’s vanity. She smiled to herself, pulling it out of its envelope.

I’d love to see you again.

I’ll be around after midnight if you’ll wait for me.

–    Meg

PS. There’s a tube of my lipstick on the vanity. It looked so good smeared across your neck last time. I think it’d look lovely smeared across my thighs.

Abaddon chuckled to herself, finding the golden tube of lipstick in front of her mirror. She wiped off her own dark red lipstick and pulled off the cap, applying the nude pink color to her lips.

Tagging: @purgatoan, @samanddeaninpanties