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puchuupoetTitle: haunted by the things you're saying to me
Author: Puchuupoet
Pairing: Dean/ (Wade/Sam) (lol it's like an amazing math problem ♥)
Word Count: ~2000
Rating: NC-17
Heads up: Spoilers for Supernatural S5 and House of Wax
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: Title from Jon Heintz's "Defending Our Lives" and massive thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
playthefool for the beta ♥
part one can be found here
Dean manages to convince Sam to let him bandage his chest up, and he tapes gauze over the ragged stab wounds without meeting his eyes. He doesn't believe this "Wade" crap, chalks it up to shock or Hell or general fucking bitchiness. What he does know is that he's tired, sore and needs to get the smartass next to him to a bed.
There's enough hole in the wall motels to satisfy Dean's needs, and after he checks in to one he pulls the Impala around to the back lot, hiding her under the low boughs of the trees lining the walkway. The last thing he needs right now is to wake up tomorrow to find that the creepy bastard in the mask followed them and suddenly has the upper hand.
Dean shakes his head, tells Sam to stay until he unloads the car with the necessities. He locks his door when he shuts it, but doesn't stop to see if Sam does the same. It's a short walk to the room, and it's just like every other one: a futile attempt to be somewhat unique in that forgettable sort of way. It's two beds, like he requested, and he dumps his duffel on the closest one to the door.
Sam's still staring at the dashboard when Dean comes back out, and he's secretly pleased that he has to tap on the window to get Sam to open the door. Gives Dean hope, even when Sam looks up at him with those blank fucking eyes, hand clutching at the bandages, trying to cover them with the scraps of his shirt.
"I'm fine," he mutters, and Dean has to work to bite back the laugh.
"Sa -" But he stops himself when he sees Sam's shoulders tense, and Dean figures he can do this a little bit longer. "Wade? Come on, let's get inside. Get you some painkillers and a fucking drink or something." Sam hadn't accepted the Jack when Dean had offered earlier, just gritted his teeth against the pain and Dean didn't know if that ultimately counted in Sam's favor or against.
Sam pauses before swinging his legs out with a groan, and Dean pulls him out of the passenger seat. It's a relatively easy trip the rest of the way, Sam gritting his teeth and cursing while Dean does his best to keep brushing his fingers over Sam's chest, trying to reassure himself every time he thinks he feels Sam's heartbeat.
Once they reach the doorway Sam stumbles towards the closest bed, kicking aside Dean's duffel before he's finally able to stretch all the way out. Dean eyes him, the way his arms tentatively cross over his chest before grabbing his bag from the floor and tossing it on the far bed.
"Need to sew that up, you know," he mentions casually, trying to keep his voice even. Sammy should know that, should have already grabbed the med kit and the fucking Jack and should be sitting there shooting fucking puppy eyes at Dean til he comes over and sticks a needle in Sammy's chest. But he hasn't yet and it doesn't look like he's going to, and that's what has Dean's stomach churning, more than the bloody weeping gashes on Sam's chest and the burnt out look in his eyes.
Dean grabs the med kit and the bottle, even though he's pretty sure by now it's more for him than Sam. Jerk doesn't even look at him til Dean's sitting on the edge of the bed and trying to peel away the shirt all over again.
"What do you think happened to her?" Sam murmurs, almost too low for Dean to hear.
"Happened to who?" Dean focuses on what's before him, slowly peeling the bandages away. Now that they're static, away from the dirt and sweat, it's easier to look at, gauge how bad it is and Dean's finally able to settle one of the sinking feelings in his gut. "Hey, looks like the fucker missed all vital organs this time around. Should be an easy fix."
"Carly... Nick has to know too, somehow. Asshole's probably looking for us..." Sam's voice trails off, and Dean pulls back to stare at him.
"Come on man, just take a shot. Trust me, it'll help." With everything, Dean wants to add, but doesn't want to push any issues right now. Sam finally looks up at him, stares for a moment until he's reaching out and grasping at the bottle. Dean stares as Sam swallows, keeps drinking til Dean's the one pulling the bottle back, murmuring out "Take it easy, man."
It makes it easier to stitch Sam up, his head lolling to the side every time he tries to focus on Dean's hands. The silence is unnerving though, throws Dean off as he's constantly glancing up at Sam, making sure he hasn't passed out on him.
He finally finishes, gives it one last swipe with the antiseptic before he's taping new gauze over the stitches. Dean prods at Sam, a gentle push on the shoulder that has Sam jerking away, eyes blinking wildly.
"Hey man, it's just me." Dean whispers, and once Sam focuses on Dean's face he starts to relax a little. "Everything's good to go, and you can crash now." He feels a little bad for waking up Sam just to tell him to go back to sleep, but there's shock to worry about in addition to that niggling worry that keeps Dean from brushing Sam's hair out of his eyes.
Sam nods, "Sounds good. Thanks."
"Yeah, no problem," Dean moves once he realizes it's getting awkward, and walks over to switch off the lights. He makes his way to his bed, stripping down to his boxers in the dark before sliding underneath the covers.
---
It's early morning when Dean's bed shifts, and he's pretty sure it's the hot curvy redhead he's dreaming about that's settling herself by his side. Except when he's finally started to break way from the fog of the dream, it's a low husky voice murmuring in his ear, and calloused fingers that are splaying over his chest.
"Dean...?" Sam's voice whispers, and Dean can smell the fresh stink of alcohol on his breath. "What happened Dean? What went wrong?" His hand slides down Dean's side to grasp at his hip, and that's when Dean finally pieces together that Sam's under the covers with him, cool and drunk and desperate.
"Bad choices, Sammy. We'll fix things though, we always do." Dean curls his arm around Sam, fingers carding his hair. It's an awkward gesture, not completely new but nowhere near familiar enough. They've slept together in the past, curled up for warmth and on a few occasions found themselves pressed together tighter than usual, slow drunken fumblings. But nothing like this, not with the way Sam's hands are on him. Dean chalks it up to Hell, knows what the Pit can do to people on both sides of the earth and he buries his face in Sam's shoulder, inhaling. Antiseptic and booze and Sammy, and it's a scent he thought he'd never come across again. Dean presses a kiss to Sam's skin, "You know we'll make things right."
"But I lost her, Dean. She's suffering alone somewhere and I ran away." Sam's speech is slurred between the liquor and exhaustion, his fingers moving lower down and he snuffles against Dean's neck. "I fucked up."
"We'll figure something out, man, it'll be okay." Sam's hitching closer to Dean, worming his way between Dean's legs til he's rubbing up against him, whimpered moans as he shallowly thrusts his hips up.
"Jesus, Sam," Dean groans out, fingers tighten in Sam's hair, encouraging him on. It throws him off guard, enough that when Sam pushes him on his back, licking at his ear Dean goes with it.
Before Dean knows it his boxers are being tugged off, tossed on the floor with a grin. "Lemme make you feel good," Sam says, pressing his body against Dean's and Dean gasps at the contact, his cock rubbing against Sam's stomach.
"There's lube in my bag." Dean starts to move to reach for it, but Sam's pressing down on his shoulder, keeping him pinned to the bed.
"It's fine baby, it's good, we got it," Sam whispers, fingers slick with precome as he presses one against Dean's ass. Dean goes with it, body shivering as Sam starts to stretch him, figures he can always poke Sam in the bandage if things get weird. Dean presses down against Sam's hand, groaning at the intrusion and wishing Sam would just hurry up.
Soon Sam's between Dean's legs, pressing the head of his cock against Dean and all Dean can think about is that Sammy's here, he's back and Dean's got him, a babbling mess in his head until Sam rolls his hips and pushes deeper, slowly til he's bottomed out and Dean can't think of anything else but Sam.
Sam moves slowly, as if he doesn't remember what Dean's capable of taking and it takes Dean pushing back, groaning and clutching at him til he gets the message, and soon his hips are snapping forward and Dean's grasping at the headboard.
Dean ignores the fact that Sammy's whimpering out "Carly" and concentrates on how good he feels, fucking into Dean like that with force and affection and soft wet kisses down the side of Dean's neck.
Dean moans and spreads his legs further, rolling his hips down and forward in a way that opens him up more and has Sam sliding into him even harder, the slick slap loud and echoing against the cheap motel walls and Dean hopes that whoever's listening in on the other side of the wall remembers this; that once the burn fades away that Sam's left with the same ghost Dean is, that phantom memory of being loved and touched and taken.
Dean's not ready to let this slip between his fingers, not after months of no word, no sign from Sammy or the angels or anyone he thought he could trust in. Dean kneads at Sam's ass, pulls him in closer as he hears Sam whimper, Sam's fucking gasps when his ass tightens and his head drops to Dean's shoulder and he comes, hard and hot and slick into Dean, and Dean knows he's going to be walking funny tomorrow and he fucking relishes it.
It only takes a couple strokes of Sam's hand before Dean's coming over them both, a sticky mess that leaves Dean panting and grinning up at Sam. Sam smiles back, an exhausted curl of his mouth before he's tipping over to the side, sprawling out on the other side of Dean's bed. He grasps at Dean's arm, drags him close til Dean can feel Sam's breath ghosting over his skin as they both fall asleep.
---
A car door slamming wakes Dean up, and he twists around to face Sam, blinking his eyes open to instead find an empty bed. When he lifts his head he can hear the shower running, and Dean finds the other bed neatly made up, Sam's clothes in a pile at the foot of the bed, his wallet and cell phone placed on top.
The wallet's brown, a shiny rich leather that Dean doesn't recognize. He had made Sam a wallet back in middle school, when they stuck around for more than two weeks at one place. It had been black, sigils worked into it that had made Sam beam and Dean feel a bit safer when Sam was out of sight. The cell's new too, he realizes after he gets closer, a completely different model than what Dean's used to. Expensive, nothing like what clutters the Impala's glove box.
Dean glances back towards the bathroom before reaching for the wallet, the material new and almost plasticky in his hands. A couple of credit cards, all to the same name, a few pics of some random blonde girl with Sam and then finally a driver's license proclaiming Sam Wade and Dean confused.
Author: Puchuupoet
Pairing: Dean/ (Wade/Sam) (lol it's like an amazing math problem ♥)
Word Count: ~2000
Rating: NC-17
Heads up: Spoilers for Supernatural S5 and House of Wax
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Notes: Title from Jon Heintz's "Defending Our Lives" and massive thanks to
playthefool for the beta ♥part one can be found here
Dean manages to convince Sam to let him bandage his chest up, and he tapes gauze over the ragged stab wounds without meeting his eyes. He doesn't believe this "Wade" crap, chalks it up to shock or Hell or general fucking bitchiness. What he does know is that he's tired, sore and needs to get the smartass next to him to a bed.
There's enough hole in the wall motels to satisfy Dean's needs, and after he checks in to one he pulls the Impala around to the back lot, hiding her under the low boughs of the trees lining the walkway. The last thing he needs right now is to wake up tomorrow to find that the creepy bastard in the mask followed them and suddenly has the upper hand.
Dean shakes his head, tells Sam to stay until he unloads the car with the necessities. He locks his door when he shuts it, but doesn't stop to see if Sam does the same. It's a short walk to the room, and it's just like every other one: a futile attempt to be somewhat unique in that forgettable sort of way. It's two beds, like he requested, and he dumps his duffel on the closest one to the door.
Sam's still staring at the dashboard when Dean comes back out, and he's secretly pleased that he has to tap on the window to get Sam to open the door. Gives Dean hope, even when Sam looks up at him with those blank fucking eyes, hand clutching at the bandages, trying to cover them with the scraps of his shirt.
"I'm fine," he mutters, and Dean has to work to bite back the laugh.
"Sa -" But he stops himself when he sees Sam's shoulders tense, and Dean figures he can do this a little bit longer. "Wade? Come on, let's get inside. Get you some painkillers and a fucking drink or something." Sam hadn't accepted the Jack when Dean had offered earlier, just gritted his teeth against the pain and Dean didn't know if that ultimately counted in Sam's favor or against.
Sam pauses before swinging his legs out with a groan, and Dean pulls him out of the passenger seat. It's a relatively easy trip the rest of the way, Sam gritting his teeth and cursing while Dean does his best to keep brushing his fingers over Sam's chest, trying to reassure himself every time he thinks he feels Sam's heartbeat.
Once they reach the doorway Sam stumbles towards the closest bed, kicking aside Dean's duffel before he's finally able to stretch all the way out. Dean eyes him, the way his arms tentatively cross over his chest before grabbing his bag from the floor and tossing it on the far bed.
"Need to sew that up, you know," he mentions casually, trying to keep his voice even. Sammy should know that, should have already grabbed the med kit and the fucking Jack and should be sitting there shooting fucking puppy eyes at Dean til he comes over and sticks a needle in Sammy's chest. But he hasn't yet and it doesn't look like he's going to, and that's what has Dean's stomach churning, more than the bloody weeping gashes on Sam's chest and the burnt out look in his eyes.
Dean grabs the med kit and the bottle, even though he's pretty sure by now it's more for him than Sam. Jerk doesn't even look at him til Dean's sitting on the edge of the bed and trying to peel away the shirt all over again.
"What do you think happened to her?" Sam murmurs, almost too low for Dean to hear.
"Happened to who?" Dean focuses on what's before him, slowly peeling the bandages away. Now that they're static, away from the dirt and sweat, it's easier to look at, gauge how bad it is and Dean's finally able to settle one of the sinking feelings in his gut. "Hey, looks like the fucker missed all vital organs this time around. Should be an easy fix."
"Carly... Nick has to know too, somehow. Asshole's probably looking for us..." Sam's voice trails off, and Dean pulls back to stare at him.
"Come on man, just take a shot. Trust me, it'll help." With everything, Dean wants to add, but doesn't want to push any issues right now. Sam finally looks up at him, stares for a moment until he's reaching out and grasping at the bottle. Dean stares as Sam swallows, keeps drinking til Dean's the one pulling the bottle back, murmuring out "Take it easy, man."
It makes it easier to stitch Sam up, his head lolling to the side every time he tries to focus on Dean's hands. The silence is unnerving though, throws Dean off as he's constantly glancing up at Sam, making sure he hasn't passed out on him.
He finally finishes, gives it one last swipe with the antiseptic before he's taping new gauze over the stitches. Dean prods at Sam, a gentle push on the shoulder that has Sam jerking away, eyes blinking wildly.
"Hey man, it's just me." Dean whispers, and once Sam focuses on Dean's face he starts to relax a little. "Everything's good to go, and you can crash now." He feels a little bad for waking up Sam just to tell him to go back to sleep, but there's shock to worry about in addition to that niggling worry that keeps Dean from brushing Sam's hair out of his eyes.
Sam nods, "Sounds good. Thanks."
"Yeah, no problem," Dean moves once he realizes it's getting awkward, and walks over to switch off the lights. He makes his way to his bed, stripping down to his boxers in the dark before sliding underneath the covers.
---
It's early morning when Dean's bed shifts, and he's pretty sure it's the hot curvy redhead he's dreaming about that's settling herself by his side. Except when he's finally started to break way from the fog of the dream, it's a low husky voice murmuring in his ear, and calloused fingers that are splaying over his chest.
"Dean...?" Sam's voice whispers, and Dean can smell the fresh stink of alcohol on his breath. "What happened Dean? What went wrong?" His hand slides down Dean's side to grasp at his hip, and that's when Dean finally pieces together that Sam's under the covers with him, cool and drunk and desperate.
"Bad choices, Sammy. We'll fix things though, we always do." Dean curls his arm around Sam, fingers carding his hair. It's an awkward gesture, not completely new but nowhere near familiar enough. They've slept together in the past, curled up for warmth and on a few occasions found themselves pressed together tighter than usual, slow drunken fumblings. But nothing like this, not with the way Sam's hands are on him. Dean chalks it up to Hell, knows what the Pit can do to people on both sides of the earth and he buries his face in Sam's shoulder, inhaling. Antiseptic and booze and Sammy, and it's a scent he thought he'd never come across again. Dean presses a kiss to Sam's skin, "You know we'll make things right."
"But I lost her, Dean. She's suffering alone somewhere and I ran away." Sam's speech is slurred between the liquor and exhaustion, his fingers moving lower down and he snuffles against Dean's neck. "I fucked up."
"We'll figure something out, man, it'll be okay." Sam's hitching closer to Dean, worming his way between Dean's legs til he's rubbing up against him, whimpered moans as he shallowly thrusts his hips up.
"Jesus, Sam," Dean groans out, fingers tighten in Sam's hair, encouraging him on. It throws him off guard, enough that when Sam pushes him on his back, licking at his ear Dean goes with it.
Before Dean knows it his boxers are being tugged off, tossed on the floor with a grin. "Lemme make you feel good," Sam says, pressing his body against Dean's and Dean gasps at the contact, his cock rubbing against Sam's stomach.
"There's lube in my bag." Dean starts to move to reach for it, but Sam's pressing down on his shoulder, keeping him pinned to the bed.
"It's fine baby, it's good, we got it," Sam whispers, fingers slick with precome as he presses one against Dean's ass. Dean goes with it, body shivering as Sam starts to stretch him, figures he can always poke Sam in the bandage if things get weird. Dean presses down against Sam's hand, groaning at the intrusion and wishing Sam would just hurry up.
Soon Sam's between Dean's legs, pressing the head of his cock against Dean and all Dean can think about is that Sammy's here, he's back and Dean's got him, a babbling mess in his head until Sam rolls his hips and pushes deeper, slowly til he's bottomed out and Dean can't think of anything else but Sam.
Sam moves slowly, as if he doesn't remember what Dean's capable of taking and it takes Dean pushing back, groaning and clutching at him til he gets the message, and soon his hips are snapping forward and Dean's grasping at the headboard.
Dean ignores the fact that Sammy's whimpering out "Carly" and concentrates on how good he feels, fucking into Dean like that with force and affection and soft wet kisses down the side of Dean's neck.
Dean moans and spreads his legs further, rolling his hips down and forward in a way that opens him up more and has Sam sliding into him even harder, the slick slap loud and echoing against the cheap motel walls and Dean hopes that whoever's listening in on the other side of the wall remembers this; that once the burn fades away that Sam's left with the same ghost Dean is, that phantom memory of being loved and touched and taken.
Dean's not ready to let this slip between his fingers, not after months of no word, no sign from Sammy or the angels or anyone he thought he could trust in. Dean kneads at Sam's ass, pulls him in closer as he hears Sam whimper, Sam's fucking gasps when his ass tightens and his head drops to Dean's shoulder and he comes, hard and hot and slick into Dean, and Dean knows he's going to be walking funny tomorrow and he fucking relishes it.
It only takes a couple strokes of Sam's hand before Dean's coming over them both, a sticky mess that leaves Dean panting and grinning up at Sam. Sam smiles back, an exhausted curl of his mouth before he's tipping over to the side, sprawling out on the other side of Dean's bed. He grasps at Dean's arm, drags him close til Dean can feel Sam's breath ghosting over his skin as they both fall asleep.
---
A car door slamming wakes Dean up, and he twists around to face Sam, blinking his eyes open to instead find an empty bed. When he lifts his head he can hear the shower running, and Dean finds the other bed neatly made up, Sam's clothes in a pile at the foot of the bed, his wallet and cell phone placed on top.
The wallet's brown, a shiny rich leather that Dean doesn't recognize. He had made Sam a wallet back in middle school, when they stuck around for more than two weeks at one place. It had been black, sigils worked into it that had made Sam beam and Dean feel a bit safer when Sam was out of sight. The cell's new too, he realizes after he gets closer, a completely different model than what Dean's used to. Expensive, nothing like what clutters the Impala's glove box.
Dean glances back towards the bathroom before reaching for the wallet, the material new and almost plasticky in his hands. A couple of credit cards, all to the same name, a few pics of some random blonde girl with Sam and then finally a driver's license proclaiming Sam Wade and Dean confused.
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Date: 2010-07-27 07:50 am (UTC)also nggggh hot
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Date: 2010-07-28 06:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-07-28 06:29 am (UTC)<3333 CAN'T WAIT FOR MORE (: (:
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Date: 2010-07-28 06:41 am (UTC)I'M RUNNING ALL MY PLOT HOLES WITH THIS BY YOU NOW ♥♥♥
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Date: 2010-08-03 07:02 am (UTC)ALSO OMG SAM SHOULD SHOW UP AND SEE DEAN AND WADE TOGETHER AND GET ALL JEALOUS OR SOMETHING AND THEN SAM AND WADE SHOULD GET IT ON WHILE DEAN WATCHES AND THEN WADE LEAVES AND THEN DEAN AND SAM GET IT ON
ALL THE WHILE DEAN BEING THE TOP/DOM FIGURE IN THIS SITUATIONAND HOLY SHIT BREAKING MY BRAIN BRB.ILU SFM RN ♥
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Date: 2010-08-03 01:06 pm (UTC)ILU TOO BB ♥♥ GIGGLING SO HARD RN, SO GLAD YOU'RE ENJOYING IT :D
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Date: 2010-08-04 02:06 am (UTC)ILUUUUUUU AHAHAHHA I AM AMAAAZING AND SO ARE YOUUUU ♥♥