We all lead lives of quiet fantasy

SPN Snippet: "Treading Water" [G] John, Dean

2009-11-09T01:00:08Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: John and Dean Winchester
Rating: G and gen
Author's Notes: Written for the Sam and Dean Drabble-a-thon, prompt: Dean, Sammy, John, learning to swim. Thanks to aerye for the insightful beta. All remaining confusions and inconsistencies are my fault, not hers.
Warnings/Spoilers: None. Set pre-series.
Length: 300 words
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke.

“Training break, boys,” John announced. He pulled off the highway and drove over the top of a dam to a deserted little beach. They changed in the car. Sammy was still recovering from a stomach bug, so John got him situated under a tree with a comic book and then splashed into the water with Dean.

“I know how to swim,” Dean complained.

“You know how to paddle around,” John corrected him. “Today I’m going to teach you how to survive in the water. It’s all about endurance. In ‘til your feet can’t touch the bottom, and start treading water.”

An hour later, Sammy was napping. Dean had gone under twice. He was trembling and gasping for breath, skin cool to the touch, as John eased him onto his back and supported him there. “When you get tired, float on your back like this to rest,” he instructed. “Your situational awareness’ll be crap in this position, so don’t do it for too long.”

Dean’s breathing slowed down.

“Good. Dean …” John glanced over to make sure Sammy was safe on the beach. “Back in Colonial times, a woman suspected of being a witch would be thrown into deep water. If she sank and drowned, she was normal. If she floated, she was a witch. Now, obviously the test doesn’t work. But the principle holds true. Witches will learn things, do things to survive that normal people wouldn’t. Lesson being?”

“Pu-play normal, so you don’t get tested?”

“Yeah,” John eased his hands out from under Dean and left him floating unsupported in the water. “But don’t die trying for normal, boy. You do whatever you have to, to protect yourself and your brother.”

Dean looked John in the eye and nodded, spitting out a mouthful of water. “Yes sir.”

SPN Drabble: "Get Back On That Bike, Sammy" [G] Dean, Sam

2009-11-08T22:43:51Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam and Dean Winchester
Rating: G and gen
Author's Notes: Written for the Sam and Dean Drabble-a-thon, prompt: Sam/Dean, Traumatic and for the supernatural100 Challenge #202: Evaluation. Beta'd by panther_kitten.
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for the Pilot. Set early season 1. No warnings.
Length: 100 words
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke.

The gasoline catches with a soft whump. Firelight dances over our faces. I feel Sam go perfectly still beside me. It’s our first salt-and-burn since Stanford. Since I pulled Sam away from the flames, out of the apartment he shared with Jess.

I want to … I don’t know. Elbow him? Say I’m sorry? Tell him he’s safe. But I don’t lie. I wait. Keep an eye on Sam. See what he’ll do. Purifying flame is one of the basic tools of the trade. If the other side uses it, too - Sam just has to learn to deal.

SPN recs: Pick of the Litter from the Sam and Dean Drabble-a-thon

2009-11-08T06:09:24Z

Short-fic, be they drabbles, snippets, or ficlets, are among my favorite types of fanfic. I think they often go under-appreciated. This fabulous SPN challenge is about to turn one week old. So I thought I'd recommend a few of my favorites so far from assorted genres, in an attempt to get them a little more limelight.

Humor
Untitled by aisalynn [PG] Gen
Sam wishes Dean would take prison a little more seriously.

Angst
What Sam Learned At College by ladyrhyanne [PG] Gen
Look for the quick emotional turn-around on this one.

Porn
Freckled and Burnt by taelynhawker [NC-17] Sam/Dean
What, I have to pick just one? taelynhawker keeps blowing me away with her ridiculously hot ficlets in this challenge. This one has Sam looking after a very sun-burned Dean.

Love Stories Involving the Impala (What? It's a SPN genre!)
Idling by shes_gone [PG] Sam/Dean or Sam/Dean/Impala or possibly even Gen
Stopped at a red light in the middle of nowhere, Sam watches Dean sleep.

Future Fic
Lies Sam Winchester Told Me by invaderwitch [PG] Sam/Dean implied
The Winchesters spend the night at a safe house, and Sam stays up late.

AU
Lost by redrum669 [PG] Gen
Dean protects Sam from the demons that exist only in his own mind.

Gen
Hanging On by callistosh65 [PG] Sam, Castiel Gen
Sam's reaction to Castiel touching his brother's amulet.

The Challenge is still going on! Come and play!

SPN Drabble: "Sammy's First Date" [G] Sam, Dean

2009-11-08T02:13:47Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sammy and Dean Winchester
Rating: G and gen
Author's Notes: Written for the Sam and Dean Drabble-a-thon, prompt: Sam, Dean - Dean's leather jacket. Unbeta'd.
Spoilers/Warnings: None!
Length: 100 words
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke.

Sammy inspected himself in the mirror. Hair combed, jeans dark and clean, white button-down without a single wrinkle. Dean had bitched about how hard it was to iron things on a freaking bed, but he’d managed it while leering his way through advice that left Sammy flushed and mortified. Singing “La-la-la, I can’t hear you,” eventually worked and Dean’d gone to pick up dinner and some condoms.

Sammy tried on Dean’s leather jacket and popped the collar. “Sam,” he introduced himself to the mirror, “Sam Winches-ter.” His voice broke. He looked like an idiot. Was it too late to cancel?

Bitchin Party and Yuletide, YAY!

2009-11-08T01:06:26Z

I have signed up for the bitchinparty con in Seattle this April, and you all should, too! Yay!

Yuletide Update - I slimmed my offered fandoms down to 16 that I am very excited about writing. Now I can't wait to see what I get assigned! I posted my 2009 Yuletide Request Letter. It was exhausting and uplifting. No reveals on which fandoms I requested, just an in-depth look at what types of fic I love beyond all words. It felt more revealing than a psych eval. Check it out!

SPN Drabble - "No Longer in Service" [PG] Future!Dean, Future!Castiel

2009-11-07T07:12:49Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Future!Dean, Future!Castiel
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Written for the Sam and Dean Drabble-a-thon, prompt: Future!Dean, cell phone. Thanks to elementalv and Steven for the beta.
Spoilers: Spoilers for 5x04.
Length: 100 words
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke.

We’re all a little nuts. Survivor’s guilt and PTSD. Bed wetters, cutters, and binge drinkers. Blank stares, night terrors, little voices in your head – nobody cares so long as you can shoot a rifle and do your share of the chores.

But Cas’ cell phone thing freaks everybody out. On bad days he pulls out his broken old phone and dials random numbers. Face blank and urgent, almost like the old days, he corners people and makes them listen to the dead air.

“I’m trying to reach my father,” Cas says. “Is He there?”

“No, Cas, he’s still not answering.”

SPN Snippet: "Demons Bleed" [R] Demon!Dean

2009-11-05T14:46:26Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Character: Demon!Dean
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Written for the Sam and Dean Drabble-a-thon, prompt: Demon!Dean, Merciless.
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for season 4. Warnings for violence, non-con, and dark subject matter.
Length: 133 words
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke.

Souls bleed in Hell. They scream, and sob, and beg for mercy. It’s fun, at first. But souls break too easy.

Demons bleed in Hell, too. Meg made enemies, back when she was Azazel’s golden girl. She’s his meat whenever he wants her. He carves and burns, slices and flays. Rips her apart with his teeth, nails, and dick. She never begs. Meg screams and curses. Snarls what she did to John, what she’ll do to Sam when she gets out. Dean smiles, hums a little Zeppelin, and enjoys his work.

When Dean recognizes Ruby smirking at him from behind his brother, for just a second, there’s nothing he wants more than to drag her back down to the Pit, strap her to the rack, and show the bitch who she’s dealing with.

Yuletide Sign-up Morning After, with Bonus DVD Commentary meme!

2009-11-05T07:20:24Z

So, I signed up for yuletide! And now I'm looking over the confirmation email. My requests are fabulous. My offered fandoms? Seem slightly insane.

Yes, self, you DID love that book when you were 12. Doesn't mean you're prepared to write about it. Also, self, you only played that video game for 10 hours, never finished it. And, self, how exactly do you write fic for an album? *quietly panics*

I may need to print it out, go through, and be more selective before resubmitting. Highlighters may be involved. How many fandoms do normal people offer to write?

Now, gakked from ithildyn and rei_c, a DVD Commentary Meme!
Pick a paragraph (or any passage less than 500 words -- or any scene, I guess? since I tend to write in scenes) from any fanfic I've written, and comment to this post with that selection [Note: Please include the title/fandom]. I will then give you a DVD commentary on that snippet: what I was thinking when I wrote it, why I wrote it in the first place, what's going on in the character's heads, why I chose certain words, what this moment means in the context of the rest of the fic, lots of awful puns, and anything else that you'd expect to find on a DVD commentary track.

SPN fic: "Counting Down to Zero" [PG-13] Future!Dean (5.04 spoilers)

2009-11-03T23:01:40Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Future!Dean
Rating: PG-13 and gen
Author's Notes: Written for the Sam and Dean Drabble-a-thon, prompt: Future!Dean, War. Thanks to Steven for the beta.
Warnings/Spoilers: Bleak. Spoilers for 5.04.
Length: 500 words
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke.

Automatic gunfire from the back of the store. Dean ran towards the sound, hurdling fallen shelves. They’d cleared the whole store, fucking cleared it. Must’ve missed a back door. Screams. Dean skidded to a stop, set himself, and checked around the last corner. His flashlight revealed four Croats bent over Juan. Five shots and it was done. Another man down for the sake of a duffle of dented cans of food. Dean switched in a fresh clip.

The flashlight flickered and died. Dean pressed his back into the wall and waited, senses tuned to the darkness. There was a scent in the air … blood, gunpowder, hot metal, and burning flesh. Pretty much the story of his life.

“Dean,” something greeted him from the dark. It was quiet, inhuman, a voice of screams and explosions. It was as familiar as the smell. And he was cut-off.

“War,” Dean snarled. “Come on then – bring it,” he said, sliding sideways along the wall. That back door had to be around here somewhere.

“Now Dean,” it said. “Why would I want to hurt you? You and your brother were always my favorites.”

The days when every evil thing out there could get a rise out of him by bringing up his brother were long gone. “Yeah, we used to get that a lot.” Dean’s ankle collided with a corpse. He stepped over it, feeling for a clear bit of floor.

“I wanted to convey my condolences – your woman miscarried last week, didn’t she?”

Dean froze. “How the fuck do you know that?” If the demons had infiltrated base camp, fuck … he had to get out of here, warn them.

“The doors to Heaven are closed, my boy. Where do you think all the souls end up now? I hear that Lucifer took a personal interest – a little Winchester girl’s soul doesn’t come along every day.”

Dean shuddered. “What, and you’re here to gloat?”

“No, you misunderstand me. Frankly, I think Pestilence has been given too much power. The Croatoan virus was a blast, but this new one – have you heard of any live human births in the past two years?”

No, he hadn’t. Dean had squashed the rumors, out-and-out lied when one of the refugees came in talking about it, claimed it was just bad nutrition and that there was a freaking maternity ward operating outside of Columbus. Because the Croats and demons were one thing, but if his people figured this out – it’d be bad.

“Anyway,” War continued, “this apocalypse is running down, and I’m getting bored. You and your rag-tag band are some of the only fun left out there. So I thought I’d offer you a way to even the odds a little.”

Dean found himself leaning forwards, breath fast and nerves thrumming. If this was it – and it was, the human race counting down to zero – at least they could take the bastards down with them. “I’m listening.”

“How’d you like to get your hands on the Colt?”

SPN Drabble: "Giving It Away" Sam/Dean NC-17 (5.04 spoilers)

2009-11-03T02:42:43Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Author's Notes: Written for the Sam and Dean Drabble-a-thon, prompt: Sam/Dean, Mine.
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for 5.04. Warnings for explicit incest.
Length: 100 words
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke.

Sam is gagged and tied to the bed, ass clenched around his brother’s cock when he realizes the water dripping from Dean’s face isn’t sweat, and starts listening to what Dean's muttering.

“-slut. Give it away to, fuck, demons, whenever I let you out of my sight. Meg, Ruby, now Lucifer? No. Can’t have you. Won’t. Fill you so full of me he can’t get in. You’re mine. Fucking mine. Gotta – gotta let me in Sammy, not him. Not …” The desperate mumble of words trails off into grunts.

Sam arches into every thrust. For Dean, the answer is Yes.

SPN Drabble: "Not Exactly Vengeful" [PG] Sam, Dean

2009-11-03T01:52:38Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: PG and gen
Author's Notes: Written for the Sam and Dean Drabble-a-thon, prompt: Sam/Dean- gay male ghost. Thanks to Steven for the beta. No spoilers or warnings!
Length: 100 words
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke.

“Is it really worth the time for us to find the kid’s bones, Dean? I mean, he’s not exactly vengeful, is he?”

“This one is definitely getting a salt-and-burn. He’s only been dead six months, and the spirit’s already upgraded to stalking. He’ll get violent soon, I can tell.”

“Not stalking, exactly. More like following me around and checking out my ass.”

“Son of a –” The double-click of a shotgun being cocked. A rattling boom. “Stay the fuck away from my brother, you pervy dead twink!”

“Uh, Dean? Since when are you up on gay slang?”

“Shut up.”

dS fic: Full Moon Over Chicago (The Heterozygous Gene Remix)

2009-10-29T13:42:19Z

Pairing: Fraser/Kowalski (Or gen, actually)
Rating: PG-13
Length: 400 words
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Alliance/Atlantis. I just feed them when they follow me home.
Author's Notes: This is a remix of luzula's fabulous werewolf AU, Shifting, created for remixthedrabble. Thanks to my beta elementalv.

( Full Moon Over Chicago (The Heterozygous Gene Remix) )

I wanted to try something a bit different as a remix strategy this time. So rather than a straight POV switch, I used the model of reflection symmetry. I was fascinated by this this thought of Fraser's in luzula's original - no one knew whether or not I would inherit the lycanthropy—it's governed by a complex combination of recessive genes. My line of symmetry was my question - what if someone had almost, but not quite, the right genes to express lycanthropy? My goal was to take points in the original fic and reflect them across this line, see where I ended up.

I started with the main character - would it be Fraser? No, it would be Ray. So what about that first scene where Ray and Fraser are together, during a full moon, in a stake-out. Does that still happen? Yes, but Fraser's not there. Just Ray, in the car. Puberty for Ray, when his mother worries for him, rather than Benton's grandmother. Fraser's nights in the Depot become Ray's nights with Stella. Even the locations in the city where Ray loses himself to the full moon - back alleys, dark-shadowed parks - are reflections of Fraser's run as a wolf. Fraser is recalled to human duty by something to do with papers - for Ray, it's the fear of his picture in the papaers, getting Vechio killed. Sadly, that sense of balance that Quinn helped Fraser find isn't something Ray has ever experienced.

Ther are a dozen other points of symmetry between the fics. Okay, enough geometry, now on with the genetics geekery!

One thing that drove me nuts was the title. I really wanted to call it (The Epistatic Gene Complex Remix), but I figured that would be meaningless to all but a handful of potential readers. (Heterozygous Gene Remix) is a compromise - it gets across some of what I'm saying, and hopefully most people know what it means. I'm not sure about that, actually. Do YOU know what heterozygous means? I should probably make a poll.

All in all, it was great to get the chance to remix such a rich story. And for you marvelous folks who left comments on the fic - I'll respond when I get home tonight.

SPN fic: "Quiet Waits the Grave" [PG] Sam/Jess

2009-10-28T04:44:36Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Jess
Rating: PG
Length: 1170 words
Spoilers/Warning: Spoilers for the Pilot, set during early season 1. Warnings for angst.
Author's Notes: Written for the Spook Me Multi-fandom Halloween Challenge. Thanks to aerye for the beta.
Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, and the concept of Supernatural belong to Kripke and the CW.
Summary: She’s always there. A silent figure in white at the periphery of his vision.

~~~

She’s always there. A silent figure in white at the periphery of his vision. Even when he can’t see her, Sam feels her presence, a constant pressure in the back of his mind, like the unrelenting hum of a fluorescent light.

~~~

He tries talking to her sometimes, when he gets a few minutes away from Dean. She never responds. Maybe she can’t hear him. Maybe there’s nothing left for her to say. She just watches, steadily, a concerned line on her forehead.

~~~

She keeps her distance. Sam glimpses her through the trees, at the far end of the bar, just outside the motel window when they settle in for the night. The only time she gets close to Sam is when he closes his eyes at night. Then he sees her burn.

~~~

He’s not sure what keeps her here. Is it a need for vengeance? Love for him? Is it because of her violent, supernatural death? Her womb had been ripped open before she was pinned to the ceiling and burned alive by demonic power. Sam researches necromantic rituals to bind spirits, but her death doesn’t match any of them. Maybe it’s him. Maybe she’s still here because Sam can’t let her go.

~~~

No one else can see her. It takes Sam a while to realize that, but it’s true. So either she’s a different type of spirit than anything he’s ever hunted, researched, heard of – or he’s losing his mind. Slice it with Occam’s razor. He’s probably losing his mind.

~~~

Dean finally falls asleep to the drone of a George Foreman infomercial. Sam slips quietly out the door, eases it closed, and sits on the ground with his back pressed to the cold stucco wall of the motel. She’s barely visible under a streetlight at the end of the parking lot.

“I miss you,” Sam whispers.

She flickers closer, to the rear bumper of the Impala, and runs her hand along the steel of the trunk. Her hair hangs loose but the blustery wind can’t touch it. She looks like she’s been crying. Sam settles back to watch her.

~~~

The water is dark and cold, but not as cold as the tentacles wrapped around Sam’s chest. He struggles, pries at them with numb fingers, and tries to reach his knife while holding his breath. It feels like he’s been fighting forever. Fighting monsters. Fighting to get free from hunting. Fighting to find Dad and the demon. Fighting his own need for sleep, where the nightmares wait. Sam’s tired. He’s so tired.

Sam catches sight of her, only a few feet away, almost close enough to touch. He can let go, and they’ll be together. She must have just been waiting to bring him home. Sam relaxes, and the tentacles drag him further from the surface.

Her mouth opens in a silent, furious yell, and then she’s gone. The last of Sam’s air is bubbling away, vision fading, when gunshots echo through the water and Dean pulls him up, away from the slack tentacles.

~~~

“When were you gonna tell me?” Dean says as soon as the waitress leaves with their order. Coffee, a burger, cheese fries and cherry pie for Dean, coffee for Sam. “Never, right? You weren’t even going to mention the fact that your dead girlfriend’s spirit is hanging around.”

Sam shrugs. He changed into dry clothes, but his hair is still damp. He still has the scent of lake water and the creature’s black blood in his nose.

“I never would have known if she hadn’t shown up to tell me where you were,” Dean concludes.

Sam looks up, feeling a strange, gnawing jealousy. “She … she talked to you?”

Dean meets his eyes, and then looks down, toying with his fork. “Nah. She just appeared in front of me looking scared, flickered in and out of sight, and led me to that cove like freaking Lassie.”

Sam picks up the salt and shakes a tiny pile onto the table. He pushes it into a thin, unbroken circle with his fingertips.

“How long’s she been haunting you?” Dean demands.

Sam thinks back. It’s hard, slow, like trudging through thick mud. “Ummm … since that first night? I saw her, up in the window of our apartment, after they put the fire out.”

“Okay,” Dean says decisively. “We can be in Santa Rosa in ten hours, hit her grave tonight. Do a quick salt and burn.”

“No,” Sam contradicts dully, staring out the diner window. He can feel her out there.

“Sammy, we’ve got to. She doesn’t belong here. Plus, you’re a mess. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, she’s - ”

“No!” Sam is on his feet, looming over his brother. He leans down and presses his hands against the cracked Formica of the table. “No. She’s already burned for me once. Twice is too much. Leave her the fuck alone, she’s not doing any harm!”

The diner is hot, close. People are staring, and Sam can’t breathe. He steps outside into the cool grey afternoon drizzle. She watches from the edge of the road as he sits on the wet hood of the Impala. The anger he felt in the diner drains away, leaving him exhausted, ribs bruised, the muscles in his arms and legs a steady, burning ache.

Dean’s right. She doesn’t belong here. She deserves better than an afterlife being dragged along two-lane highways, from diner to graveyard, motel to morgue. Following breadcrumb trails of innocent victims and grieving families. Demons and vengeful spirits and fucking lake monsters. Secrets and lies and death.

He has to hunt, but she doesn’t have to watch.

“Jess?” Sam calls softly. He buttons up his jacket against the sudden chill, keeping his eyes on the gravel of the parking lot.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally. “I didn’t warn you. I couldn’t protect you.” The words choke him, but he pushes them out. “And now, now I have to do this. Have to go after the demon that hurt you. It’s dangerous. And with you here, I can’t … can’t concentrate. Can’t get my head in the game, can’t watch my brother’s back the way I should.”

Sam’s breath puffs white in the damp, cold air. “So if you could … go. Into the light. Just wait for me there. I’ll be along. Probably sooner than later. Okay?”

The parking lot is silent except for the wet shush of cars driving by. The rain slowly drips down the back of Sam’s neck. It mats his hair and soaks through his jeans.

A bell jingles from the diner door. Familiar footsteps, and the car creaks as Dean settles onto the hood next to him. The air's gotten warmer, and Sam can’t feel her anymore. There are fragments of green glass mixed in with the grey gravel on the ground. Until Sam looks up, she might still be there, watching over him.

Sam bites his lip to stop himself from begging Jess to come back.

SPN drabble: "Rental Disagreement" [PG] Sam, gen

2009-10-26T01:18:06Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Character: Sam
Rating: PG and gen
Author's Notes: Written for supernatural100 prompt #200, Take Two ("alone" and "resent"). Set around 3x15, 'Long-Distance Call.' Thanks to my beta, panther_kitten.
Length: 100 words
Summary: “Let’s split up,” Dean said.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke.

Sam signed the rental agreement with an angry flourish that ripped the paper. The Ford Taurus was a dull blue-grey the exact shade of a drowned corpse. Sam shoved the seat as far back and down as it would go. His hair still brushed the roof when he got in.

“Let’s split up,” Dean’d said. “We’ll cover more ground that way.” As if that were normal. As if Dad had raised them to cover ground, instead of each other’s backs. ‘It’ll be good practice for when I’m gone,’ Dean didn’t have to add.

Screw that. Sam wouldn’t let it happen.

SPN drabble: "The Poison Apple" [PG] Sam, gen

2009-10-25T00:46:48Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Character: Sam
Rating: PG and gen
Author's Notes: Written for the spn_drabble prompt "invisible wounds". Spoilers for 3x05, 'Bedtime Stories.' Thanks to my writing group for the beta.
Length: 100 words
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke.
Summary: Their lives had always been more Grimm than Disney.

Ebon locks and ruby lips, the princess lay in a hospital bed.

No blood, no bruises, no signs of decay. Just a pale, still girl; victim of a stepmother’s malice and a bottle of bleach. Callie was kept alive by modern medicine and the guttering flame of her father’s hope. The man still read a story to her every day.

Sam wished he could wake Callie with a kiss. But their lives had always been more Grimm than Disney, and these days it seemed he couldn’t save anyone. All he could do was convince Callie’s father to let her go.

Remix the drabble!

2009-10-22T02:23:35Z

remixthedrabble is posting this week. Some marvelous anaonymous person remixed my SPN Sam/Dean jealousy fic Sharing and Caring into Mind Control (The Sharing and Caring Remix). It captures the heart of the original in just 100 words - quite the challenge!

Another person remixed my Bobby ficlet Two Glasses and a Night Full of Screams into Two Glasses and a Night Full of Screams (The Relativism Remix). Terrific Bobby-voice - check it out!

You should all check out the comm and offer feedback to the authors. Short fics get less feedback. Remixes get less feedback. And so authors in this challenge don't get anywhere near the recognition they deserve, to my mind.

Have some links!
C6D Fandoms (due South, Slings & Arrows, etc.) With a heavy Diefenbaker bias this round!
Science Fiction (BSG, SGA, Farscape, etc.)
Supernatural
Jossverse (Buffy, Firefly, etc.)
Doctor Who and Torchwood
Disney *boggles*

No explanations meme

2009-10-16T01:26:29Z

Gakked from green_wing via insomnia_geek.

1. You can ONLY answer 'Yes' or 'No'.

2. You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone messages or comments you and asks—and, believe me, the temptation to explain some of these will be overwhelming. Nothing is exactly as it seems.

Kissed any one of your LiveJournal friends? — Yes
Been arrested? — Yes
Kissed someone you didn't like? — Yes
Slept in until 5 PM? — Yes
Fallen asleep at work/school? — Yes
Held a snake? — Yes
Ran a red light? — Yes
Been suspended from school? — No
Experienced love at first sight? — No
Totaled your car in an accident? — No
Been fired from a job? — No
Fired somebody? — No
Sung karaoke? — Yes
Pointed a gun at someone? — Yes
Did something you told yourself you wouldn't? — Yes
Laughed until something you were drinking came out your eyes? — No
Caught a snowflake on your tongue? — Yes
Kissed in the rain? — Yes
Had a close brush with death (your own)? — Yes
Saw someone die? — No
Played Spin-the-Bottle? — No
Smoked a cigar? — No
Sat on a rooftop? — Yes
Smuggled something into another country? — Yes
Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? — Yes
Broken a bone? — Yes
Skipped school? — No
Eaten a bug? — Yes
Sleepwalked? — No
Walked on a moonlit beach? — Yes
Ridden a motorcycle? — No
Dumped someone? — Yes
Forgotten your anniversary? — Yes
Lied to avoid a ticket? — No
Ridden in a helicopter? — No
Shaved your head? — Yes
Blacked out from drinking? — No
Played a prank on someone? — Yes
Hit a home run? — No
Felt like killing someone? — No
Cross-dressed? — Yes
Been falling-down drunk? — No
Made your girlfriend/boyfriend cry? — Yes
Eaten snake? — No
Marched/Protested? — Yes
Had Mexican jumping beans for pets? — No
Puked on an amusement ride? — No
Seriously & intentionally boycotted something? — Yes
Been in a band? — Yes
Knitted? — Yes
Been on TV? — No
Shot a gun? — Yes
Skinny-dipped? — Yes
Given someone stitches? — No
Eaten a whole habenero pepper? — No
Ridden a surfboard? — No
Drunk straight from a liquor bottle? — No
Had surgery? — Yes
Streaked? — Yes
Been taken by ambulance to a hospital? — No
Tripped on mushrooms? — Yes
Passed out when NOT drinking? — Yes
Peed on a bush? — No
Donated Blood? — Yes
Grabbed electric fence? -- No
Eaten alligator meat? - Yes
Eaten cheesecake? — Yes
Eaten your kids' Halloween candy? — No
Killed an animal when NOT hunting? — Yes
Peed your pants in public? — Yes
Snuck into a movie without paying? — Yes
Written graffiti? — Yes
Still love someone you shouldn't? — No
Think about the future? — Yes
Been in handcuffs? — Yes
Believe in love? — Yes
Sleep on a certain side of the bed? — Yes

SPN beta anybody?

2009-10-11T01:27:16Z

Heya! Anyone up to beta a het non-con supernatural ficlet? There are no evil Winchesters, I promise!

dS snippet: "Proven Innocent" [PG] Fraser/Kowalski

2009-10-10T06:05:45Z

Fandom/Pairing: Due South; Fraser/Kowalski
Rating: PG
Length: 300 words
Author's Notes: lucifage_5 asked the Fraser from Guilty Until Proven Innocent how life was going with Ray. I'm rather relieved that innocent!Fraser decided to reply. Unbeta'd.
Summary: Three months after Fraser's acquital.

It’s been a difficult few months. The nights give me the most trouble. I've found myself encouraging Diefenbaker to join me on the bed, his warmth and steady breath a shelter from nocturnal visitations. Victoria is as vicious as might be expected, but when Ray Vecchio appears - well. Those nights can only be endured.

Ray Kowalski turned up in a battered Ford Explorer 29 days after my acquittal carrying a bouquet of wild flowers. Since then he’s come by every morning at precisely 9am with a thermos of coffee, a donut for Diefenbaker, and his own set of tools. He’s a passable carpenter, and a surprisingly talented electrician. The repairs on my father's cabin are progressing very well. On a more personal level, however … each evening, after dinner, Ray returns to the room he’s rented in town. I apologized today, told Ray that I understood this wasn’t what he had hoped, and that he should feel free to return to his life in Chicago. Diefenbaker made his opinion clear by stalking off.

Ray smiled gently, stepped close, and ruffled his hand through my hair in a soft, caressing slide. I leaned towards him and brushed my lips against his cheek.

Ray took a breath and expelled it on a nearly inaudible mmmm. He took a half-step back and turned to face me. “You’re worth waiting for,” Ray rumbled, eyes so intent and serious that I couldn’t help but believe him. Then he grinned. “And tomorrow, Frase, I am bringing you a house warming gift. I was thinking maybe a coffee maker.”

Ray slung a companionable arm over my shoulders and walked me towards his SUV, chattering about the advantages of various brands. “See you tomorrow,” Ray said as he hopped into the driver’s seat.

“Tomorrow,” I promised.

Tomorrow.

Question Time Meme

2009-10-10T02:49:02Z

Gakked from pen37 via ithildyn.

Have you ever wanted to ask me a question about one of my fanfics? Here is your chance to ask me anything you want...

What inspired it, what in the world was I was thinking when I wrote it, how do I feel about it now, what do I wish I'd done differently, what would have happened if... etc.

Or you can ask any of the characters from a particular story something you want to know, and get an answer from them.

It can be about absolutely anything in any of my fics (even if it is still a WIP, except for the co-authored ones) and I will tell you the answer. Don’t hold back. I won't *g* Ask about major upcoming plot points if you want to and whatever you ask, I will answer truthfully.

I will warn you in advance if my answer contains a major spoiler and give you a chance to back out. If you then decide that you still want to hear the answer, I'll give it to you.

Think carefully before asking a question. You might not want the answer as badly as you think you do. ;)

SPN fic: "The Double Bottom Line" (gen)

2009-10-07T04:27:42Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Length: 850 words
Author's Notes: Set during early season 1. Thanks to dodger_winslow for the tough love beta!
Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, and the concept of Supernatural belong to Kripke and the CW.
Summary: Sam sneaks a look at his brother's journal.

Sam was digging through his brother’s duffle for a clean shirt when he found the battered Mead composition book. Its cover was a Sharpie-inked tribute to hard rock bands of the ‘70’s - Dean’s version of a pre-teen girl crushing on Justin Timberlake. Dean had been jotting notes in it since Sam was a kid, but he’d never gotten so much as a peek inside.

Sam decided to leave the notebook where he’d found it. It’s not like they had a lot of privacy, and messing with Dean’s stuff was enough to kick off a prank war.

Or, it would have been, four years ago. Now, Sam wasn’t sure, and it was freaking him out. Dean was supposed to be Dean. Five mix tapes, two food groups, and one lame pick-up line. Sometimes Dean seemed as familiar as Sam’s favorite hoodie. But sometimes, these days, his reactions were off, different than Sam expected, like there was a stranger in the driver’s seat. Sam woke up in the Impala the other night to find Dean speeding down an empty highway to the glorious strains of a Malmsteen solo, and it was as beautiful and wrong as watching the sun rise over the Pacific.

He needed to know what Dean had been up to while Sam was attending chem lab, writing papers, and blowing the curve in Latin class. What had happened, what changed him? He couldn’t ask, not without offering memories of Stanford in return, and Sam just – he wasn’t ready for that. Dad’s journal had personal stories sandwiched in between lore on every evil thing they’d ever hunted. Maybe Dean’s did, too. Hell, given how much his brother hated talking about anything important, he might prefer that Sam get his information from the journal.

Sam glanced at the bathroom door. Dean should be in the shower for at least fifteen minutes, getting that sap out of his hair. Sam pulled the notebook out from the jeans it was wrapped in, sat down on his bed, and opened the front cover.

Inside was a list of names and dates starting back when Dean was fourteen. Sam grinned down at his brother’s all-caps scrawl. Typical - Dean would keep track of his conquests. Dean had always bragged that Daisy O’Connor took his cherry, but the first entry said:
4/20/93 CAROL M (A) TX-VSP-M2

They’d spent the spring of 1993 in Galveston, so TX must be Texas. Sam spent a minute puzzling over the other codes. There were plenty of possibilities, but they all seemed a little adventurous for a fourteen year-old kid, even if that kid was Dean.

The second name in the list was a ‘Mark’. Whoa. Sam tried to imagine a sweet-faced boy sharing a cigarette with Dean under the bleachers, but the image of some skanky, balding middle-aged guy cruising the junior high playground kept intruding, which made Sam want to hit something. He checked the next few pages. Well, it couldn’t have been too traumatic an experience, because nearly half of the names in this journal were men.

Jesus. Dean could have said something. Okay, yeah, Dad would have flipped. And Sam was kind of impressed that Dean had actually done it, gone against Dad’s wishes and kept it to himself for all these years. But he could have told his own brother. Sam wouldn’t have given him crap about it, wouldn’t have judged him, at least no more that he already did for all the one-night stands, and … fuck. How did he not know this about his big brother?

Sam skimmed ahead, quickly glancing over each page, looking for August of 2001. There it was. With his researcher’s eye for patterns, the differences were obvious. When Sam left for Stanford, the entries became much more frequent. The (A) code, which had grown less common over the years, disappeared entirely. Sometimes Dean was, umm, dating three or four people in a single day. Dean had said he’d started hunting alone – guess he had more opportunities that way.

More pages. More dates. More names. Sam’s stomach felt hot and tight. Dean’s notebook was almost full, and Sam’s entire sexual history would have fit on half a page.

Sam turned to a page near the end. 11/20/05 said the first entry. And the second. And the third. And every line down the rest of the page. He turned to the next page. 11/20/05. And another page. And another. Over a hundred names in one day, and that wasn’t even possible. He had to be missing something. Sam turned back to the first entry for that date.
11/20/05 AMANDA W (A) IN-D-S

Amanda. Amanda? The flight attendant who survived the first United Britannica crash, her name was Amanda Walker. But Dean couldn’t have slept with her. They hadn’t even spent the night in Indianapolis, had skipped out of town after exorcising the demon that was trying to crash her plane.

The plane that had over one hundred passengers on board.

Oh.

Sam realized what he was looking at, and carefully tucked his brother’s journal back into the bottom of the duffle.

iTunes meme

2009-10-02T06:40:45Z

Gakked from amanda_r by way of amonitrate.

Instructions: Open up your iTunes and fill out this survey, no matter how embarrassing the responses might be.

How many songs total: 12855
How many hours or days of music: 43.5 days
Most recently played: Black Star - Yngwie Malmsteen
Most played: 37mm - AFI (461 times, it was a soundtrack for writing 'Death-Defying')
Most recently added: Tin Man - Animal Kingdom (yay free stuff from iTunes)

Sort by song title:
First song: A.W.O.L. - Mary Coughlan
Last song: 99.9f - Suzanne Vega

Sort by time:
Shortest song: Intro - The Offspring (:05)
Longest song: Just Geography - Brynnmck (2:18:58)

Sort by album:
First album: Abnormally Attracted to Sin - Tori Amos
Last album: (blank album title) Track 20 by some annoying and unnamed pop chick (Where the hell did this come from?)

First song that comes up on Shuffle: Hawks and Hands 82 - aukestrel

Search the following and state how many songs come up:
Death: 102
Life: 103 (Hah! Edging ahead by a nose!)
Love: 432
Hate: 28
You: 741
Sex: 35

SPN fic: "Sharing and Caring" [R] Sam/Dean

2009-09-27T01:31:53Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Pairing: Sam/Dean, mentions of Sam/Jess and Dean/others
Length: 555 words
Author's Notes: Thanks to aerye for the beta, and to rei_c for helping me look at Sam's character in a different light.
Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, and the concept of Supernatural belong to Kripke and the CW.
Warnings/Spoilers: Warnings for incest and jealousy. Mild spoilers for season 1 and 2.
Summary: Sam's never been good at sharing.

I’ve never been good at sharing.

Growing up, we always had just enough. Just enough money for the rent. Just enough food to last us ‘til Dad got back. Just enough grudging approval from Dad to keep us reaching for that brass ring.

So I didn’t split my PB&J with Maria back in second grade if it meant I was gonna go hungry. I didn’t let anybody touch the Spiderman comic book I managed to keep through three moves, including that late night one when Dad gave us five minutes to pack a duffle. And when Cameron from the track team peed on my only pair of sneakers as a joke, I beat the crap out of him.

Eventually I realized that I could have more, be more than a soldier in Dad’s crusade. I wanted a real future, with a prestigious career, a loving wife, a nice house where we could raise a family. I was never going to find any of those things plastic-wrapped on a gas station shelf. So I left.

Jess grew up with full cupboards and a big loving family. She thought it was cute when I got jealous – of the girlfriends she hung out with, the guy she smiled at in the library, her family when she went home for the holidays and left me sitting alone in the apartment. I kept myself under control, never let things get ugly.

I lost her anyway.

A few months ago it hit me – this was it. This was all I had left. My laptop, a duffle of clothes, 75% of a Stanford education, and shotgun rights in my brother’s car. This was all I was ever going to have. This, and Dean. When he wasn’t calling me a possessive little bitch and screwing his way through every truck stop, bar, and diner in the lower 48.

Dean. He’s all I - Sometimes I don’t even think he wants me, wants this, just fucks me ‘cause I’m convenient, and I need him. I was pounding into Dean’s ass, fisting his cock, both of us right on the edge, but I couldn’t stop thinking about ‘Cherry’, the waitress he fucked when we stopped for lunch, and my head hurt as I said, “That’s it Dean, you come for me, just for me, no one else, right?” And Dean answered, “Yeah, fuck, Sam, anything, oh God-”

It wasn’t my fault that I’d apparently used some of Andy’s mind-control juice when I said it. I mean, I didn’t even know I could do that stuff. Certainly didn’t know how to undo it.

Dean was pissed. He gave me the silent treatment for eight days, communicating in grunts, glares, and infinite repeats of the migraine-inducing Metallica album ‘Master of Puppets’, until finally he yelled, “Hit the deck, Sam!” just in time for me to duck under a harpy’s claws. Then things pretty much went back to normal.

Dean still flirts, fucks around. I don’t mind, not anymore. I can be generous. Smile pleasantly at the vacant-eyed slut hanging off my brother and giggling her way through purple nurple shots.

I look forward to it, actually - to Dean crawling back to me hours later reeking of alcohol and pussy, desperate for what only I can give him.

It’s easy to share when no one can steal what’s mine.

SPN drabble: Vanilla [PG-13] Sam/Dean

2009-09-17T13:35:16Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: Written for the spn_drabble prompt "trust". Unbeta'd.
Length: 100 words
Spoilers, Warnings: None
Summary: Dean's never really tried any of that kinky stuff.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Kripke.

Sam poked his head into the bathroom where Dean was brushing his teeth. “Seriously?” he said, surprised. “I had no idea you were so vanilla, Dean.”

“Vanehma?” Dean garbled indignantly around the toothbrush, spat and rinsed. “Nah. You know how I roll, Sam. I can’t go home with some chick I met twenty minutes ago and then whip out a blindfold, handcuffs, and a dildo.”

“Interesting choices,” Sam mused, stepping up close behind Dean. He slipped his hands gently over his brother’s eyes. All of Dean’s muscles tensed.

“Trust me,” Sam whispered, and waited until Dean relaxed back against him.

SPN fic: "Setting the Mood" [NC-17] Sam/Jess, Sam/Dean

2009-09-14T01:36:41Z

Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Jess, Sam/Dean
Length: 2,188 words
Author's Notes: Thanks to aerye for a truly comprehensive beta. This story is set early in season one. In my mind, it's a companion piece to Glimpsed in the Mirror of His Shield, but this story can easily stand alone.
Disclaimer: Sam, Dean, and the concept of Supernatural belong to Kripke and the CW.
Warnings/Enticements: PWP, incest, phone sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, and mild bdsm.
Summary: Sam couldn't jerk off without thinking of Jess. He couldn’t think of Jess without remembering blood and flame. And there was no way he was telling his brother about his little problem.

Sam sat on a crappy bed in a heavily warded motel room, watching the worst porno in the history of porn. The problem wasn’t the premise. A pornographic version of the Flintstones could have been fun. But this was just … Sam realized that his mouth was hanging open, snapped it shut. Train-wreck bad.

Sam’s cell rang. He answered, eyes glued to the screen.

“I’m in position outside the cave,” Dean announced. “Do your thing.”

“Wanna switch jobs?” Sam muttered.

“Love to, but you’re the one who was all handsy with the ritual urn, and got the Maenad’s attention.”

Which, yeah, okay, he should have just destroyed the whole black altar. Picking up the urn depicting a fanged woman with a basket of bleeding, detached penises for a better look, had been pretty stupid.

“This motel only gets one porn channel, and this movie, the dialog, it’s terrible,” Sam complained.

“Jesus, it’s not meant to be Shakespeare.” Dean said impatiently. “How bad can it be?”

Sam held the phone towards the TV. ‘Yes baby, yes! Stick your big bronto burger in me!’

Sam put the phone back to his ear.

“ – pretty fricking awful. But our options are kind of limited here. According to Dad’s journal, the Maenad’s only attracted by sexual energy, and you suck at finding chicks to hook-up with. So man up, pull something out of your spank bank and start pumping the python.”

There was an awkward silence.

Dean sighed theatrically. “Didn’t we have this talk when you were thirteen? Masturbation is perfectly natural, Sammy,” he said in a mocking, lecturing tone. “Everybody does it, including you.”

That was the thing – Sam didn’t. Not anymore. He couldn’t jerk off without thinking of Jess. He couldn’t think of Jess without remembering blood and flame. It’d been two months, and he should be over this, but he just … wasn’t.

“Look, I know we need to get the Maenad out of the cave so you can rescue the men she captured. I’m just, uhh, not in the mood right now?” Sam said, and then immediately cringed. There was no way he was admitting his little problem to his brother, but that made him sound like a wife pleading a headache.

“Oh, of course,” Dean answered immediately. “'Cause girls need to get in the mood for sex, right Samantha?”

Sam made a face at the phone, not sure what to say. He’d just given Dean a whole month’s worth of reasons to call him girl names. The TV showed a close-up of Betty going down on Barney’s dick. Which could have been hot, except that the guy just wouldn’t shut up, spewing line after line of lame porno dialog.

“Well don’t worry, little brother,” Dean said finally. It wasn’t the gloating Sam had expected, but it didn’t sound like reassurance, either. His voice was too rough, too fast. More like … a dare, maybe? “It just so happens I am awesome at setting the mood. So, turn off the TV,” Dean ordered.

Sam hit the off button on the TV and sat back down. The sudden silence was a relief, even if Dean was going to be a dick about this.

“I know what the problem is,” Dean said, with all the fake sincerity he used for interviewing the grieving. “Those porno chicks, they’re not your type. You like girls who are classy. Smart. Confident. Ones that can hold their own against you in an argument.”

And, yeah, that was Sam’s type. Dean should know. He’d watched Sam fall for chess champions, class presidents, mathletes, and valedictorians in high schools across eleven states.

“Girls who know what they want, and aren’t afraid to reach out and take it.” Dean’s voice was slipping deeper now, the one he used for talking to women when the only question left was if they would make it to her place, or end up doing it in the back seat of the Impala.

Sam had never heard that voice aimed at him before, and it gave him this weird, shivery feeling.

“You like the kind of girl who, when she gets home and finds you with your nose stuck in a book, she’s gonna walk right up to you, run her hand through your hair, jerk your head back and hold it there while she kisses you, deep and dirty.”

Oh God. Jess used to do that. She used to do exactly that, and Sam loved it so much sometimes he would keep studying longer than he needed to, waiting for Jess to come home and grab him.

“You really should remember to close your curtains, Sammy, never know who might be watching,” Dean said, darkly amused.

Sam gasped. Dean had watched them. Sam knew he should be embarrassed, but his whole body went hot at the thought of Dean sitting in his car, watching as Sam sat there and let Jess do, fuck, anything she wanted to him.

“She shoved the table out of the way and sat down in your lap, hand still holding your head right where she wanted it, tongue fucking into your mouth, thighs working as she rubbed her nipples up and down your chest.”

Sam whimpered, remembering the way Jess smelled at the end of the day, clean sweat and clove cigarettes, the sweet taste of them on her lips.

“Then she dropped to her knees in front of you, and reached for the button on your jeans.” Dean swallowed. The next sentence came out gravel-rough. “You gonna help her with that, Sammy?”

Sam’s cock was straining hard against his zipper. He struggled with clumsy hands to get his jeans open and down.

“That’s it.” Dean was breathing hard, just like Jess; she’d get so turned on just thinking about all the things she wanted to do to him. “She held her hand up, waiting for you to lick it nice and wet for her. Don’t keep her waiting, man.”

Sam tasted salt on his palm and moaned softly.

“Good.” Dean’s voice was unsteady. It made Sam wonder if Dean was rubbing himself through his jeans, if he’d done it while sitting in the car, watching Jess, watching him. “She trailed her fingernails down your shaft.”

And that was nice, yeah, but Sam wanted more.

“Don’t worry; she knows how you like it. Hand around you, not too tight, pumping reeeeal slow.”

Fuck. Yes. Like that, just like that. Dean knew, he knew, and it’d been so fucking long, and God, he needed this. Sam’s breath caught.

“You’re that close already?”

“Yeah,” Sam panted. Just a few more strokes, and –

“Then stop,” Dean ordered.

Sam’s hand froze before he even processed the command. “Dean, what the hell!”

“Because I know for a fact that you like the type of girl who teases the fuck out of you.”

Sure, Jess did sometimes, but for the first time in months he was gonna get to come, he needed this so fucking bad, and Dean was stopping him?

“Look, it’s working,” Dean said. “The Maenad’s headed out. So why don’t you, uh, get your clothes off, go take a nice hot shower, and lie down naked on the bed. And just, you know, keep it up.” Dean huffed a nervous laugh. “I’ll call back in ten minutes.”

Dean hung up on him. Sam sat trembling on the edge of the bed, cell phone in one hand, dick in the other. He could just … but it wasn’t … and the hunt. Right. The Maenad. Sam put the cell phone down and stripped out of his clothes, kicking them towards his duffle. He stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Drops of warm water slid down his back, soft and sweet. The Maenad should definitely be on its way; he was still so fucking turned on, every inch of his skin hungry for touch.

Sam poured a little shampoo into his hands, ran it through his hair. When he showered with Jess, she’d let him wash her hair, press back against him and moan as he massaged her scalp. He ducked under the showerhead to rinse the shampoo off, and it was like bending down to kiss Jess under the stream of the water. Sam ran his soapy hands down his body quickly, just enough to get clean, not letting the touch linger where he wanted it most. Jess would get her hands all slick with soap, reach down and wash his cock, then his balls, gripping them tight enough that when he thrust against her stomach it hurt, just a little.

Sam was out of the shower now, drying off, the rough motel towel a tease against his skin. Jess never bothered to put clothes on after they showered together, would drag him into the bedroom with her skin still damp and flushed, laughing at him when he wrapped a towel around his waist.

Sam picked up the cell phone, sat down on the bed naked, and then leaned back against the wall, still hard and feeling vaguely ridiculous. He lay down, closed his eyes, and reached for his dick. A single drop of blood spattered on his face and he jerked himself back up to a seated position. Crappy motel bed. Amateur paintings of birds on the walls. No Jess. No flames.

He couldn’t even jerk off without his brother talking him through it. Fucking pathetic. His cell phone rang.

Sam answered. “Look, Dean -”

“Okay, where were we?” Dean sounded distracted, and slightly out of breath. Sam could hear the low roar of the Impala through the phone.

“Oh, right,” Dean said. “You lying on the bed?”

“Yeah, but -”

“What are you wearing?” Dean asked, in the honeyed, seductive tone he used on women in bars.

It was the clichéd line that got to him. Sam suddenly realized that he was having phone sex. With his brother. Sam blushed hot, from his face all the way down his chest.

“Nothing,” Sam croaked, mouth desert-dry. He wanted this. He did.

“Good boy,” Dean said, voice deep and edged with something Sam didn’t recognize. “Now you just lie back, relax, and listen to me.”

Sam lay back down on the bed, his eyes drifting shut. He felt turned on, yeah, thrumming with it. But also … Dean’s voice and the Impala’s rumble wrapped around him like a warm blanket, and Sam felt safe.

“Your girl’s standing at the foot of the bed, wearing a tiny little t-shirt and nothing else. She’s looking at you, Sammy, and she likes what she sees. You hard for her?”

“Yes,” Sam whispered. Hard for Jess. Hard for Dean.

“Now she’s crawling up the bed. She's grinding down on your thigh, pussy pressed against your skin, so you can feel how wet she is.”

Sam’s hand crept down his body, paused. “Can I, uh…?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said, voice gruff and low. “You can touch yourself, Sam. Touch yourself any way you want, so long as you’re thinking of her.”

And, Christ, his hand felt amazing. Sam’s breath gusted out on a nearly silent gasp.

“She bends down and sucks the head of your cock into her mouth. Wet and messy, jacking the base, moaning around you ‘cause she’s getting off on this. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, Dean, oh ...”

“Now she’s taking you deeper, and her tongue’s getting in on the act, licking and pressing, while she rides your thigh. She’s good at this. You know she’s done this before, to lots of guys. She’s been around. But you’re the one she wants. You’re the one she wants to taste, feel heavy on her tongue, you’re the one she wants in her bed every night.”

Close now, close, and it’d been so long, felt like his heart was pounding through his whole body, building up …

“You want to fuck up into her mouth? Do it,” Dean ordered, voice hoarse and urgent. “She wants you to.”

Sam never had, didn’t want to hurt her, but now Dean told him to, and it was so good, hips arching, Dean’s voice thrusting him up into her.

There was a gunshot outside, and Sam didn’t even care, so close, fuck, he needed –

The door slammed open.

“Got the bitch,” Dean snarled, and froze. The ferocious grin slid off his face as he saw Sam on the bed, almost sobbing, pumping up into his fist. Dean’s eyes went wide, dark, and hungry. “Fuck, Sam, you look…” He trailed off. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips.

“Dean, please,” Sam begged.

Dean’s shoulders rose and fell on a single stuttering deep breath.

“I’m, uh, gonna go gas up the car,” Dean said, lurching backwards out the door, which locked behind him with a soft click.

That left Sam lying naked and alone on a crappy bed in a heavily warded motel room. But he could see Jess riding his cock, hair hanging loose, face intent on her own pleasure. Could imagine Dean watching them from the doorway, voicing rough, eager commands, and Sam came the moment Dean told him he could.