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fandom-hoarder · 3 years

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Baby Brother

[companion piece to Feeling Small; Dean’s POV, fluff + slight angst; don’t come at me for the gimme title]

At first, Dean has no idea why he’s suddenly conscious and not reaching for his gun. His fingers just graze the butt of it, but he doesn’t have the urge to close the distance. After a split-second of concentration, though, the reason is obvious: Sam. Namely, the soft but ragged breaths Dean hears coming from the bed behind him, growing more labored by the second; a sound Dean is, unfortunately, used to identifying. Though, it’s been awhile. Almost a year, he thinks. Longer than the last time Sam woke up with growing pains, and Dean can tell Sam’s current anxious breathing apart from the pained groans that have been more frequent lately. Dean had started to settle into the idea that Sam was finally growing out of his nightmares.

Too much to hope for, apparently.

There’s a fleeting thought, a vague hint of annoyance, at the fact that this is Sam’s first nightmare since separate beds became their default rather than a rarity and a luxury. Calming Sam down is so much easier when they’re sharing space. But it had been Sam’s decision in the first place; yet another push for independence and his own (literal) space; and Dean hadn’t argued, despite the urge that nagged at him sometimes. When your sixteen-year-old little brother insists he needs his own personal space, it looks weak and clingy to try to argue about it. So, naturally, Dean had pulled away like the ultimate specimen of machismo that he was, making sure Sam knew that Dean had only been putting up with the arrangement for Sam’s sake in the first place, and to make things easier on Dad. Making sure to gripe about it at least as much as Sam any time they had no other option but to share since then.

Even so, Sam was usually much more pliable in the middle of the night; accepting more help with things when he was sleepy; when their world was blurry around the edges, dwindled down to the bubble that encompassed the two of them in that space between wakefulness and sleep.

He calls out to Sam sleepily, refusing to open his eyes and hoping to quickly nip this in the bud so he can go back to sleep. So they both can. It comes out more grumpy than inviting, and he inwardly winces, but he doesn’t worry long.

He hears Sam gasp sharply and then there’s a flurry of movement as his little brother flings his covers away and clambers over. Dean braces for the chill of air on his warm skin as Sam squirms in behind him, but his little brother comes with his own furnace-like aura, especially when he’s worked up from some kind of night terror. He feels the heat of the air between them close in as Sam settles, and Dean holds still, taking his cues from Sam for how much contact he wants.

Sam’s bony elbows press against Dean’s lower back, and he feels the barest hint of contact between the backs of his thighs and Sam’s legs. Sam’s slightly clammy forehead coming to rest between his shoulder blades, however, is enough to raise faint goosebumps along Dean’s skin. He wonders how Sam can possibly be comfortable, with the way he must be contorted. Sam’s body is way too long now for this position to feel natural.

Sometimes it kinda pisses him off that Sam is going to be taller than him any day now. It also makes him proud, though. Somehow, despite all the odds against him, he managed to raise this kid up big and healthy. But right now, it just makes him kind of heartsick for the days when his little brother was, well, actually little. He guesses he should just be grateful that Sam isn’t actually treating him like the little spoon here, but it still rankles. Dean’s still bigger than him, dammit; at least for now.

Dean keeps his eyes closed and tries to hold still; relax; resist the urge to take control and switch their positions, and just breathe. Be the type of solid comfort Sam needs right now—no matter how dissatisfying it feels for Dean, or how much he knows Sam will end up with a crick in his neck and back if he stays like this—and let both of them fall back to sleep. For a minute or two, it seems to work, but soon he feels Sam’s breathing getting worked up again; shuddering the way it does when tears are in the not too distant future.

Dean reaches back awkwardly to run his hand through Sam’s hair, hoping the contact will ground him. Somehow, though, it only seems to make things worse as Sam lets out a sort of wounded sob.

‘Yeah, okay, that’s it,’ Dean thinks with a sigh, finally opening his eyes as he accepts his fate. He twists himself around under the covers and wraps his arms around Sam, ankle looping around Sam’s and trapping that leg between his thighs. Dean’s left hand finds Sam’s right and wraps around his bony wrist, pulling it to his chest as he re-settles Sam against him more comfortably. And there’s something intensely satisfying about how he executed this maneuver; how easily he’s still able to manhandle his little brother, despite Sam’s recent increase in size. Dean’s momentary smirk presses his cheek against Sam’s head as he reaches up to card through Sam’s hair again.

It’s full; soft and fluffy on top, but still damp on the bottom layers from the shower Sam took after Dean last night. His hair is so long and thick, past his chin in the front and curling out around the nape of his neck; it always takes hours to dry naturally, and Sam refuses to use a hair dryer. Dad’s probably going to make Sam cut it any day now for practical reasons. Dean rags on Sam all the time about his girly hair, but secretly he loves it. The kid’s always had a lot of hair, but it’s gotten thicker in the last couple of years. And Dean grew up petting his brother’s hair—it’s the only thing that could get little Sammy back to sleep most of the time, or calm him down if he was fussy; although sometimes it’d only worked if it was accompanied by Dean’s careful croon of ‘Hey Jude’—and at this point he can admit, at least to himself, that it soothes him also.

And Dean definitely needs that calming action now as he prepares himself for what he needs to do. He takes a deep breath as he comes to terms with it, and the familiar, sweet scent of Sam’s special shampoo keeps his heart calm under Sam’s hand. Good.

“Nightmare?” he whispers.

Sam nods against Dean’s shoulder and cheek, and Dean’s fingers still until the movement is over so they don’t snarl in his hair.

“Wanna talk about it?” he barely wants to give the question breath, but he knows he has to. His heartbeat stays steady as he waits for the reply, but his dread of the answer seems to make the question echo around him.

When Sam shakes his head ‘no,’ Dean doesn’t hold back from tugging at his hair a bit in retaliation. Dean hadn’t even wanted to ask in the first place, but Sam is for damn sure gonna answer him now that he’s ignored his first impulse and asked anyway.

“Can’t remember it,” Sam mumbles, and the graze of his lips over Dean’s clavicle threatens goosebumps across Dean’s chest.

Dean frowns at the reply. On the one hand, he knows Sam’s telling the truth, but that Sam could probably remember it if he tried; he’s done it before, more than once. On the other hand, Dean has never liked the outcomes of those times--the subject matter or how remembering affected Sam. After the last one, Sam didn’t--maybe couldn’t--sleep again until… well, Dean’s not even going to let his thoughts go there right now. It was all just coincidence, anyway. Sam’s subconscious taking his worries and lore knowledge and coming up with unfortunately realistic scenarios in his dreams. Side effect of being the brainy, research geek, Dean had told him, and Sam clearly hadn’t believed him but only gave a patented bitchface in reply.

Point being: every time it happens, Dean gets closer and closer to having zero excuses left for why he hasn’t told their father yet. But, hey, if Sam can’t remember then… who’s to say what he dreamed about? Probably just a normal, stupid, run of the mill nightmare about clowns or something… He digs his fingers a little deeper into Sam’s hair, massaging into his scalp a bit to ease any tension left there from his dreams, the way he has since Sam was little.

When Sam was about four or five, he’d woken from a nightmare inspired by a monster movie Dean had been watching on late night TV. They’d been sharing a pull-out couch in the living room of a tiny, one-bedroom apartment Dad had rented, and Dean had gotten in the habit of falling asleep to the TV in the living room when Dad was gone; he didn’t want to say it made him feel safer, but that was the truth. When Sam had woken up with a cry, covered with sweat and face sticky with tears, the TV screen had long since stopped showing the blocky colors that signaled the end of the broadcast day and was now just the staticky non-picture that Dean called ‘snow.’

Dean had woken immediately at Sam’s cries, and pulled him over into his arms, doing his best to shield his little brother’s eyes from the light of the TV screen as he shushed him and dried his tears, asking if he had a bad dream. When Dean realized it was the monster movie that caused Sam’s nightmare, he’d felt bad, and promised not to watch scary stuff before bed anymore. Then he’d tucked Sammy against him and started combing his fingers through his sweat-damp, baby-soft hair, rubbing the pads of his fingers against Sam’s head as Dean whispered to him that he had a magic trick that would let him pull the bad thoughts out of Sam’s head. For a while, Sam wholly believed it was magic, and it worked so well that Dean almost did, too.

The dread in Dean’s gut eases slightly with the memory, but not completely. He’s too aware of the thoughts he’s avoiding.

Just when he starts to think Sam’s drifted off, the pattern of air moving across Dean’s collarbone stutters as Sam breathes, “I miss this.”

“Miss what?” Dean asks, feeling an inexplicable eagerness as he anticipates Sam’s reply.

“Feeling small.”

Immediately, Dean’s thoughts cycle back to where they’d been earlier: Sam’s impending status as tallest Winchester boy, and Dean’s continued status as big brother no matter what. This time, the ache in his heart is more for Sam than himself. There’s a happiness, too, though; he’s glad for the darkness and the creeping slumber that loosened Sam’s tongue enough to say it.

After he’s squeezed Sam close—feeling the incredible thinness of him, the ridges of bone under newly-stretched skin a little uncomfortable at spots but all the more a comfort because of how it adds to Sam’s overall delicate feel right now—Dean splays his hand over Sam’s back, testing how much area the spread from his thumb to pinky still covers. It feels like a lot, and Dean finds himself thinking proudly that he’s still able to be Sam’s protector.

Dean rubs his thumb soothingly over the edge of skin it can just reach, and presses his cheek against Sam’s head to promise, “You’ll always be my baby brother.”

When Sam’s fingers clumsily grab Dean’s amulet, the goosebumps that have been threatening this whole time finally make their appearance. The pull of Sam’s hand on the cord is a nostalgic weight that gives his heart a little lurch. Dean feels Sam’s breathing finally even out, and allows a long, slow exhale of relief.

But Dean knows he’s not going back to sleep himself any time soon. He’s going to stay awake and hold his baby brother tight; keep the nightmares away—real and imagined; soak in the memory of Sammy still small in his arms and needing comfort neither of them will admit to in the light of day.

And he knows this will be one of the few times he doesn’t tease Sam about it in the morning, whether or not Dad comes home safe.

#weechesters #teenchesters #weechester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #weecest #kinda #preslash #gencest #samdean #my fanfiction #fluff #sam has nightmares #dean loves sam's hair

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oh-writing-my-writing · 4 years

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If they’d been gross before - this was taking it to a whole new level. Literally

Sam pinches his eyebrows together, nose scrunched in reaction to the ridiculosity unfolding in front of him. Too engrossed in himself - themselves - to notice Sam bitchfacing in their general direction, Dean stands with his hands on his hips, and Cas in his head. He’s staring himself down, in a very Dean kind of frustration - but his expression is clear enough to belong to a particular ex-immortal, kinda-sorta-angel of the Lord.

They’ve been talking within (heh.) themselves for ages.

“Jimmy felt healthier, Dean.” That’s undoubtedly Cas. Serious, grounded - somehow, tragic. “I must cure your -”

“- do not say cholesterol, or so help me -”

“Fine.” Cas, again - maybe Sam was imagining this, or maybe his voice really does come down half an octave. This way or that, Cas projects the word with the sort of insufferability that’s long been associated with Dean’s stubbornness. There’s a ponderous pause, like he’s not quite done yet. “But you’re bigger.”

It’s kind of amusing to see your brother choke on a simple, yet easily mislaid, ‘you’re bigger’, delivered in pointed deadpan, and your best friend’s dialect. Especially when it’s his own voice saying it.

“I mean, there’s - Dean? - more space.” Cas stops abruptly. “Dean, what are you doing - ?”

Sam looks on curiously, as Dean thumps his chest to regain his breath.

“In what kind of a possession do you not feel me dying, Cas?” Dean throws back, obviously exaggerating because he’s stopped coughing. “What are you, detached?” He’s returned to the slightly irritated voice Sam’s matched with the man standing in front of him, for around thirty eight years now.

“You’re not dying.” Cas informs him. (Himself?) “And I’m very attached.” As if to prove his point, Dean - Cas - brings his hand up to touch his own cheek. Grazing the skin, gentle, his fingertips trace along his jaw, all the way to his chin.

It’s kind of weird to look at, but Dean’s own flustered face makes it more than worth it.

“Shuddup. And dude - stop that.” Dean again. “The hell are you doing to my voice, anyway? What’s wrong with the way it is?”

“Nothing. I think it’s lovely.”

Cue the blush. Apparently, Dean still had control over the parts of his face prone to reddening when he was embarrassed. Though, paired with Cas’s naturally stoic demeanor, it made for a comical display.

“Then what’s up with the seven-cigarettes-before-breakfast voice? I’d thought that was a custom Jimmy thing.”

Cas pauses. Or Dean does. Maybe both of them do, and Sam wonders if they’ve figured out how to talk inside their head - but because blessings are rare when you’re a Winchester, of course they haven’t.

“That - wasn’t on purpose.” Dean’s voice confesses, a little forlorn, and a lot more apologetic than Dean tends to go for. “Perhaps it’s my thing.”

That makes sense. And honestly, makes it easier to tell them apart. Sure, they’ve spent enough time together for Sam to figure out who’s speaking, with the intonation of a single sentence if they’re arguing, but for the rest of the time? It’d be a lot more convenient.

“Huh.”

“I’ll try to stop -”

“Dude. Forget about it.” Dean immediately cuts him off. Sam raises his eyebrows, knowingly, but neither of them are paying attention to him right now. “Doesn’t hurt. I, uh. Just didn’t know it could go that low.”

Dean smiles, but in the absence of flashed teeth and gums, it’s closer to Cas’s reserved ones.

This was going to take some getting used to, even for Sam, and he was just the blissfully-ignored spectator. He knows Dean and Cas have their work cut out for them - and they were going to stumble into mishaps, and march straight into misunderstandings, but as they ultimately always did - they were going to come through.

Not to mention, some things were going to be hilarious. Eating, for example. Showers, Sam fleetingly thinks, wickedly. Or sleep - because Dean would need it, and Cas would remain wandering in his consciousness all night. When compared with the arguments over being watched when he sleeps? Sam knows Dean’s going to cause a ruckus.

But, end of the day? Sam figures that if they’re ever going to get a move on, he needs to step in.

“Dean - uh, Cas? Can we - ?” He clears his throat, tentatively. Tilts his head in the direction of the impala, and holds a hand out for the keys. “I could drive.”

Cas hands him the keys from Dean’s pocket, while Dean protests his indignance. “I’m driving -”

“I’m not sure where we’re at, motor-functions-wise. Hand-eye coordination isn’t all we need.” Cas returns, matter-of-factly. “Possession is easier. I’ve never shared a body before.”

“Well, guess what, smartass?” Dean throws back, and the thing which keeps happening, where Dean cuts himself off and proceeds to tell himself off, is not going to cease being amusing for a very long time. “Neither have I. Just - sit back, and enjoy the ride.”

“I can’t. I’m inside you.”

Dean starts to fluster again. Yeah, well, take the backseat in there!”

“Dean, there’s no backseat in you, unless you mean your -”

“Guys.” Sam breathes out, patiently. Dean looks up at him, with the magnitude of both their stares. “I’m all for communication, okay? But if we could all just wait until we’re in the car, so I can plug a goddamn aux in before you start discussing backseats - I mean, semantics -- which, just to be clear, I’m not judging, I’m just wanting an out - that’d be great.”

Dean seethes, pinkfaced, but he remains silent, and that’s clearly the most affirmation he’s getting from there. Cas is the one who directs a slow and understanding nod.

So Sam huffs out a short breath, and the three of them pile into their car, with just Sam in the front. He starts the engine, distractedly inserts one of Dean’s tapes in the deck, and decides to hum along to tune out the increasingly growing weird conversations in the back - for their sake, and at this point, also his own.

Truly, if it had been obvious before? This was something else, entirely.

#destiel #destiel crack #implied destiel #vessel sharing #sam pov #sam winchester #sam winchester crack #dean winchester #castiel #castiel/dean #casdean au #deancas drabbles #destiel drabbles #for xojo

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 5 years

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*in the middle of a case*

Wise Old Informant™: And based on all that evidence, I think we're dealing with a cult.

Dean: Awesome. But like on a scale of the Paris Hilton fandom to the Thules, where does it score?

Sam: Somewhere in the middle. So probably Illuminati level?

Dean: well except for the demonic science nerds with money pouring out their asscracks and Latin triangles tattooed on their dicks, right? Because that's really not my thing. *looks at Cas for reaction but there are none. Shrugs and laughs himself*

Sam: you're so far from correct, it is really not funny.

Dean: shut up I'm hilarious. You're just being bitchy because you fanboy for the Langdons of this World and cults *laughs, and looks at Cas for a reaction but gets none*

Sam: *bitchface*

Cas: *unaffected* So, do you have any descriptions of their rituals?

Dean: yeah, do you? Are they the sacrificing llamas type? Dancing around bonfires for tentacled aliens? Community orgies? *laughs again, and even Sam has to grin but Cas doesn't bat an eye*

Wise Old Informant™: No, they pray like we do. Different deities though, and way weirder than the ones we pray to.

Dean: are you sure? Because like Cas here is a cousin of Jesus Christ and a bunch of other evil dicks, and they're all sons of the creator, this home-alone called Chuck, who sings suckily in the shower and watches cat videos, but go off I guess

*now, Dean laughs with Sam but not Cas, and the Wise Old Informant™ looks at them worriedly*

Wise Old Informant™: I'm sorta religious, so just not going to react. So yeah, there's a hierarchy. The beginners stand. There's prostrating at the feet of statues. And then there's sitting.

Sam: yes. The most powerful position is on your knees.

Dean: ...that's what she said

Wise Old Informant™: *laughs*

Sam: *annoyedly laughs*

Dean: *proud of himself but Cas is as stoic as ever, so he finally loses it* Dude. what is wrong with you? You're not on a strike! You're allowed to laugh!

Cas: I would, if I, uh, felt the need to.

Dean: *irritated* what, like, angels can deactivate their sense of humor? And well, I think I'm on a roll here! This is comedy gold! Do you think I'm not funny, huh?

Cas: *polite* maybe we don't share the same sense of humor, Dean. If you want -

Dean: I don't need your pity laughs *mentally* challenge accepted.

*Dean decides that it's now a matter of his honor, and he'll make Cas laugh, come what may*

*while dealing with the Lucifer situation*

Sam: he's possessing some musician now ughhh

Dean: what some of us do for fame...

Dean: *sees Cas listening and takes it a step ahead* I mean, he's basically a Mean Girl now. He craves attention and would possess the President for drama™

Sam: *snicker*

Dean: I mean, think about it! He could just start driving a pink convertible and become friggin' Regina George next

Sam: *bursts out laughing*

*Dean looks at Cas to see if he laughed, but its like he doesn't even bother to react. Not even a smile*

Dean: ...you can do better Winchester

*In the middle of a vampire hunt*

Dean: *slicing some SOB's head off* Phew! Its basically routine now!

Cas: *admiring* you're very good at it, yes

Dean: *decides to seize the moment* they're just pretty bad at what they do. I mean sure, you sparkle just fine. But you don't need to shine out your ass for eternity to suck blood, just wear some headgear so that knifes don't slice through

Cas: *zoning out*

Dean: *desperate* heh I mean the only reason Twilight has all these movies is because it was those embassies against some more dumbasses. Throw in a hunter, and it would've been over before Pattinson could've cried out for the wolf with abs, Jake or whatever

Cas:

Dean: *mentally* its gonna take more efforts, but you'll get there

*Gabriel is flirting with a random woman*

Dean: *sees an opportunity and charges* for a guy his age, Gabriel sure seems to get laid a lot

Cas: yes *smiles* he has had a lot of practise

Dean: yeah that, and he has all these great lines, being an angel and everything

Cas: like?

Dean: *excited that it might work* oh come on Cas, what's the use of being an angel if you don't use the pick-up lines it brings?

Cas: I see.

Dean: *sees Cas sobering up and tries harder* you know like, the whole array of heaven related ones? "Heaven's missing an angel, I now see why"?

Cas: *serious* why, Dean?

Dean: no, its just a line, don't take it seriously

Cas: okay

Dean: *desperacito* There's more too! Like, like, "Are you my vessel? 'Cause I would love to get inside you!" *waits for reaction*

Cas:

Dean: it was funny, you ass

Cas: but how would that work like I'm a -

Dean: gODDAMMIT C A S!

*TFW sees a girl wearing a trenchcoat, crossing the street*

Dean: *mentally* I'm gonna Carpe the Fucking Diem out of this

Dean: LOOK Cas! She's wearing your trench - no, not yours, I mean, one just like it - but hey, guess what that means?

Cas: what?

Dean: you're finally in season

Cas:

Dean: get it? You're like a trendsetter? Your fashion is finally in style?? Get it????

Cas: ...yes?

Dean: *desperacito x 1234500016351903611* REACT TO IT THEN

Cas: OH! I completely forgot! I was supposed to laugh, wasn't I? Sam told me to look for cues when you spoke, but its much harder to know when to laugh when you speak than you think -

Dean: I swear to god Cas I'm goNNA -

Dean: and Sam, we need to have a fucking talk!? I'M HILARIOUS!! I DON'T NEED PITY LAUGHS

Sam: ...Sam thinks you do, Dean

*Many gruesome years later when all except Dean have forgotten about the challenge*

Sam: *teaching mode* and now you enter the name

Jack: I get to choose the name?

Sam: uh, go nuts *walks away*

Jack: *typing keenly* A - G - E - N - T B - I - E - B - E - R

Dean: *peeks* seriously kid?

Dean: *struck by a fabulous idea* HEY CAS! Remember the time you and Crowley used those fake-ass aliases when you went hunting behind our backs?

Cas: not really

Dean: *helpless, but too far gone to be brought back* You don't remember??? The Agent Beyonce and Z?

Cas: *grins* oh that. Yes, those were his idea

Dean: *spurred on* he was always an idiot. Seriously a miracle you 2 weren't caught that time! Close save!

Cas: I suppose

Dean: *dying because the moment is so close to falling flat, and jumping to the punchline* I mean, heh, if we'd not showed up, you would've moved on to the next city as Agent Kardashian and West *hopeful for a reaction, as he bats his eyes at Cas*

Cas: *polite* no we were not stupid

Dean:

Cas:

Dean:

Cas:

Dean: *sigh*

Cas: oH WAIT -

Dean: don't say it don't fucking say it. I give up okay? I'm done. I'm so done. I give up. I GIVE UP!

Cas: I'm sorry Dean, I'll laugh -

Dean: nO - I'VE G I V E N U P

BONUS

Jack: ...what's happening?

Sam: Sam keeps forgetting how new you are until moments like these happen

EPILOGUE

*Sam, Cas and Dean are reading up on archangel lore*

Cas: *to Sam* ...and that is how he uses all 6 wings to his advantage.

Sam: that information could really be useful when we take him on. All you know about archangels is really gonna be helpful Cas, I should write it down. Speak slower

Sam: I can't take all of it at once.

Dean: *tries to resist but can't* THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID *Cas is stoic as ever and Sam bitchfaces him*

Sam: grow up jerk

Dean: bitch *does the armpit cart thing to demonstrate just how grown up he is*

Cas, suddenly: *snickers*

Dean: did you just -

Cas: I - I mean, I just - *begins to chuckle as he replays it in his head*

Dean:

Cas: *rolling on the floor, full fledged laughing*

Dean:

Dean: I've been...its been...y E a r s...I mean - this is what makes you laugh...I mean...

Cas: *unable to breathe from the laughing, red in the face*

Dean: ...fArTS, CAS!?

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hippychick006 · 5 years

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4.09 - I know what you did last Summer

This is Anna’s first appearance and I like her.

Usual brother angst in the impala disconnecting over Ruby and Hell

Drunk!Sam, poor bby, can’t cope at all without Dean.

If I was a Heller, I’d point out that Sam’s crossroads demon is a guy this time and he’s kinda cute, but I think Sam kills him. Doesn’t another one turn up in season 10 and he ganks that one too? I’m surprised they turned up after the first one was killed by him.

Anna: And you’re dean. THE Dean? Sam’s face at this is his usual little brother ‘are you kidding me?’ look. Been there Sam.

Anna (still gushing about Dean): It's really you. Oh, my god. The angels talk about you. You were in Hell, but Castiel pulled you out, and some of them think you can help save us. *looks at Sam* And some of them don't like you at all. Cue Bitchface.

I love this version of Alistair who Sam tries to exorcise. “You don't have the juice to take me on, Sam.”

How are the Winchesters even alive? Sam gets TK’d down a staircase, then they both jump out a window on an upper floor to escape.

First aid, Winchester style! I like it.

Brown hoodie jacket! I miss that jacket. Where did it go?

I officially have a hair pulling kink where Sam’s hair is concerned. Send help.

Robo!Sam is back and the way he pumps that shotgun should be illegal.

Dear wardrobe department, Sam should wear a t-shirt more often. Thank you

Sam and Ruby do the biz which is TMI for Dean’s sensitive ears.

I’d like to point out for the people that don’t think Sam cares as much about Dean as Dean cares about Sam, that in this episode alone, Sam tried to deal his soul, then went on a suicide mission to face Lilith when he wasn’t ready, not caring if he would die (probably hoping he would). I’d also like to point out a previous time where Sam was completely willing to drain a human to work a spell to summon the Trickster (to get him to bring Dean back). And if that’s not enough, he suggested harvesting organs so they could both live forever and welch out on Dean’s deal. Sam is as much psychotically co-dependent on Dean as Dean is on Sam.

Sam: “If it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here.” I think this is the only reason Dean’s willing to go along with Ruby. He says to Ruby later in the episode, “I guess I owe you, for Sam.” Same as coming around to Jack in season 13 when he saved Sam.

Loved the maid. That’s how you do a walk on part! Own it.

Anna asks about calling her parents which is just awkward all round.

Castiel’s back to making diva entrances.

Still not seeing destiew. Not seeing how Dean ever trusted the angels either at this point.

Story continues in Heaven and Hell (alternative title, Supernatural rips off that love scene in Titanic)

#supernatural #season 4 #rewatch #4.09 #i know what you did last summer #episode review

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fanfic-scribbles · 6 years

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Bright Side

A/N: I had intended to do a Chuck/Reader this week buuuut this kind of took over instead. So have a fluffy Gabriel & Reader thing. I probably should have saved it for later because the format is similar to the ‘13 Kisses’ but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also to note, I’m categorizing this as Gabriel & Reader friendship but I tried to make it kind of ambiguous, so it could be a romantic relationship? Maybe? I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Summary: Gabriel is feeling a bit down. Reader tries to help.

Quick facts: Friendship fic – Gabriel & Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Bad, bad, bad jokes and pick up lines. I apologize for none of it.

Words: 2423

Something is wrong with Gabriel.

Not constantly snacking is strange but excusable. Since the great Soda Disaster of four months ago, Sam has been insistent in nagging Gabe not to eat or drink in the library anymore. Of course the nagging only works about eighty percent of the time (Sam is impressive in this regard; you would have put money on the average being much, much lower), but he’s not addicted to anything. Gabe showing up without a candy bar or lollipop isn’t a cue to sound the alarm for the next apocalypse. However, three weeks without smugly eating a cake while Sam glares at him the entire time?

That’s another thing– Gabe’s around a lot lately. He did promise to help look through some of the books written in nigh-illegible foreign languages and he had seemed genuinely interested in some of them. But now when he comes around there’s no joking, no laughing, no gumming up the works with whatever joke he has in mind. No jokes at all, really; it’s all serious and business and Sam seems perfectly content and that sets a buzzer off if nothing does.

The last straw came yesterday. You had bought a pie and hid it until Gabe had showed up. After a little while of quiet, boring research (well, for Sam and Gabe, as you and Dean have your own computers and what Sam doesn’t know can’t hurt you) you excused yourself, went to get the pie and ice cream, and came back with it to offer it as a break. Sam gave you a very predictable stink-eye that you had utterly ignored and Dean slammed his laptop shut in anticipation. Gabe hadn’t moved. When you offered him some Dean had whimpere– er, made a manly noise of discontent, but Gabe had just looked at the dessert, said, “No thanks,” and gone back to whatever he was reading.

Dean, Sam, and you had stared at him for a long time. Dean’s bite had even fallen off his fork and he whipped his head at you. Dean and Gabe got along surprisingly well after some initial unease and they seemed to love almost nothing as much as giving each other crap. Denying something sweet and good and also giving up the chance to annoy Dean?

Something is wrong with Gabriel.

And you’re going to find out what.

You’ve waited a couple of days for the opportunity and now that you see Cas walking down the hall, alone, you take a chance. “I need to talk to you,” you tell the befuddled angel before you pull him by the sleeve into an unused room and shut the door.

He says your name with measured confusion and you have to smile a little. “It’s nothing that bad it’s just…is anything super bad going on in Heaven?”

Cas blinks. “No.”

“Any big problems cropping up on earth that we should know about?”

“No,” Cas says firmly and squints at you. “Why?”

“Then what’s up with Gabriel?”

“Ah.” He loses the suspicious stare and looks more tired than anything. “You’ve noticed it as well.”

“Has he said anything to you?” They’re not super close but they get each other more than any of the other angels can, and they spend quite a bit of time together as a result. If anybody but you knows, it’ll be Cas.

“No, but I have asked. You can guess what the answer was.”

Yeesh. “Well I hope it’s nicer that what I imagine it was,” you say. Gabe deals with feelings by avoiding the topic or getting prickly about it. ‘Prickly’ for an archangel carries a lot more weight than for humans. This brings up a problem though– is there an actual problem or is it just the part of Gabe that is very much like a human, worrying, or just caught in a bad state of mind?

Cas’s eyes crinkle with concern. “Are you going to try to talk to him about it?”

“Maybe he doesn’t have to talk about it,” you say.

“What does that–” Cas tilts his head to one side. “What are you planning?”

You pat his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

Conversely, he looks as worried as he can. “I find those words as reassuring from you as I would find them from Gabriel. So to say, not at all.”

You smile brightly in return.

~Several days later~

“Seriously, what are you going to do with all that candy?”

“It’s my candy, I bought it, I can gorge on it if I want. Now leave me alone.”

Dean huffs and turns back to face the dark road, muttering, “Touchy, touchy,” like he hasn’t been hassling you on and off for hours since the last pit stop you made at a gas station. You roll your eyes over to Sam, who shrugs and puts his hands up like he doesn’t want to get anywhere near this…argument? Annoyance? Whatever. Coward.

Later that night you’re in your own room, absently trying to do research on the case when the sound of wings rushes by your ear. You stiffen instinctively but you glance back at Gabe with a smile. He’s leaning against the headboard and he looks at you, waggling his eyebrows, but there’s no smile, no humor to it. He looks tired.

“I got some snacks,” you say and take a few packages from the side table, tossing them at him. “Have at.”

Gabe frowns at the first candy bar and he raises an eyebrow at you. “I thought you didn’t like these?”

“They’re fine, just not my favorite.” You shrug and try to keep reading while also keeping tabs on Gabe.

He looks through the candy, looks at you, and sets it aside. Well, he didn’t give it back to you. You’re going to call that a win.

~A week later~

It’s an interminable day in the library. Sam had caught you giving hearts to cat pictures and confiscated your laptop. Dean had smirked at you, somehow fooling Proctor Winchester when he had walked behind him. So here you are, with a book written in faded pencil and strict instructions to glean what you can from it. It is the dictionary definition of boring. It is so boring that you can’t even tell if it’s useful or not; your eyes keep diving to the side.

When you glance at Gabe he’s zoning out. You smirk and decide Sam’s Wrath is worth this next bit.

“Hey Gabe?” you say and wait for his attention to be on you. “Did you know that circling vultures are a dead giveaway?”

It’s a weak attempt at a joke, but Gabe blinks and he looks a little less dead to the world. Dean mutters something under his breath but you ignore him, focusing on the angel. “Hey, did I ever tell you about that time I had a hunt lead me to a henhouse? It was full of poultry-geists.”

Sam’s bitchface is so epic you can feel it. Dean chokes on “seriously?!” and Gabe’s face hints at a smile. A smile. Well, an almost-smile. That’s all you need.

“You know why Rowena doesn’t like to go to the desert? Because then she’d be a sand-witch.”

The smile grows and Dean groans. Sam grits out your name.

“Did you know a banshee’s favorite dessert is ice scream?”

“(y/n).” Sam sounds desperate.

“I found out recently that monsters really love this one play about a tragic romance. It’s called ‘Romeo and Ghoul-iet.’”

Dean slams his laptop shut. “I’m out,” he says and stalks towards the kitchen.

“Do you know why ghosts don't like parties? They have no body to dance with.”

Sam says your name more intensely. Gabe is trying valiantly to clamp down on his smile. He is failing.

“There was a picket line in hell recently. I heard it was a real demon-stration.”

Sam lets his head fall to the table, drawing out your name in a long, pained way that, combined with your truly awful/awesome jokes, makes you collapse in on yourself with laughter. When you gain enough control to look up, Gabe’s smile is big enough to show teeth.

Phase two: success.

~A week later~

Gabe is fiddling with the label on his beer bottle. He’s more alert these days, and he even joked with Dean earlier tonight. Right now, though, he seems to be back in his head, stuck in something that makes him frown.

So you sidle closer in the booth seat you share, stealing his attention and a half-cocked smirk. It’s better than nothing, and you smile back. “Can you put your arm around my waist? I wanna be able to tell my friends I’ve been touched by an angel.”

Gabe and Dean both snort. It’s a good thing Sam isn’t here– food and puns are now banned from the library with equal vehemence. “You gonna ask me if it hurt when I fell from heaven?” Gabe drawls sarcastically and takes a swig of his drink.

“No, but I do wanna know– are you Australian? Because you meet all of my koala-fications.”

“Hey, you can’t do that when you know the person!” Dean says, like you’ve offended his rules when it comes to terrible pick-up lines. But you figure you can do whatever you want. And you’re going to.

You take a drink of your own beer and steel yourself. This one requires total concentration so you exude it as much as you can. You pin Gabe with your most intense bedroom eyes, lean in, and say in as low and seductive a voice as you can manage, “…Are you a banana? Because I find you a-peeling.”

Gabe stares at you. And stares. And then his shoulders shake and when Dean bursts out into loud, loud laughter you have to follow. Gabe manages to keep his laughter in but it takes all his effort and you and Dean are close enough to drunk that your amusement eggs each other on and you don’t worry about it so much.

~A week later~

“Watch out for–”

Sam doesn’t get the warning out before you slip down the hill into blood and mud and shifter goo and ugh you are covered in bits and pieces of the latest hunt and all you can do is stare up at the brothers and angels and wonder why God has so thoroughly forsaken you.

Except, not, because you hear a sound you haven’t heard in what feels like forever. Gabe is laughing at you. True, full, gut-busting laughter. The sound makes you happier than you should be, swimming in corpse bits. Normally his utter amusement at your misery would be annoying, but you’ll give him a pass. This one time. The ones not getting a pass though? Sam (smiling), Dean (laughing), and even Castiel (smiling).

“You– did you hear that noise you made?!” Dean says through his laughter and Gabe and him actually double over and put their hands on each others’ backs. You roll your eyes and manage to stand.

“I’m sure it was incredibly dignified,” you say with a snobbish air.

“Where does ‘shrieking four year old’ fall on the scale of dignity?”

For that you pick up a clump of mud and whatever and hurl it at Dean. He yelps and jumps back. Gabe is too busy laughing at him to notice you picking up another handful and it hits his chest with a very satisfying ‘splat!’ He looks down at the mass clinging to him. “Ew.” He picks something out and studies it. “I think that’s a finger.” He blinks and smiles at you suddenly, mischief in his eyes.

“Oh no,” you say, moving carefully away. “Gabriel don’t you d–” You let out a ‘very dignified’ shout when he throws it at you and you barely dodge in time.

“Hey, guys? Screaming and playing with body parts is not exactly how I want to get arrested,” Sam says.

“Spoil sport,” Gabe says and raises his hand, ready to snap. “I got it.”

In the flick of his fingers you’re in a cozy-looking room set up similar to your motel room, clean and dry and uninjured, and Gabe is your only company. “Where are we?” you ask.

“Your room, with a few divine upgrades,” Gabe says.

“Sam and Dean?”

“With Cas, in their own room.”

“The, uh…‘crime scene’?”

“Like nothing was ever there,” he says and strides over to you. You and he have done this Q & A enough times that it’s almost routine by now. You sit down on the bed and Gabe sits next to you. He presents you with a cupcake and not eating since this morning makes the monstrous load of sugar look immensely appealing.

“Say, did you hear about the love affair between sugar and cream?” Gabe winks at you. “It was icing on the cake.”

You laugh and unwrap the side to take a bite. However Gabe puts a hand between it and your mouth, leans in and says, “Actually, you shouldn’t eat that. You’re sweet enough as it is.”

Luckily his joke is without intent and he moves back, amused, and allows you to bite into it. He looks at you like he can’t quite figure you out, but there’s a fondness there. “You’ve been trying to cheer me up.”

You work through your bite and think about what you want to say. You can’t chew long enough, though; the cupcake is so delectable it melts in your mouth and you end up having to speak without thinking long enough. “Sort of? I mean…”

You sigh, wipe your face, and set down your treat so you can give Gabriel all of your attention. “I know you’re more than candy and jokes,” you say. “But I also know those are some of the things you enjoy, and you enjoy them with abandon when you feel good. I…I didn’t really know how to say ‘you look bummed’ without maybe upsetting you, so I wanted to show you that I knew. That I could tell you were sad and I wished I could help. That’s all.”

He stares at you. His smile, when it comes, is small, but warm. “I don’t deserve you,” he says.

“Very few people do,” you say nonchalantly, but you’re sure your smile gives you away. “But I guess I can make an exception for someone that gets me a cupcake that good.”

He laughs, genuinely, without malice or hurt or irony, and that’s a sound you feel you can get used to.

#gabriel x reader #gabriel x you #Supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #gabriel spn #gabriel supernatural #friendship #friendship fic #comfort #comfort fic #fluff

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andimeantittosting · 6 years

Text

Scoobynatural

I've managed to rewatch without the choppy audio, so reaction post ahoy:

- I've got to concede that I never watched a lot of Scooby Doo as a child, but I must have seen some here and there, and recently watched the Scooby Doo meets Kiss movie, so that's the grounding I have. Because of this, I'm mostly going to stick to commenting on the Supernatural elements

- That said, I loved the way they broke the fourth wall/made use of the cartoon format/the visual gags

- Sam is such a Judgey McJudgeypants - Animated Sam's bitchface is epic

- Actually, the animation on Sam and Cas's faces is perfect throughout, but I'm less thrilled with the way Dean was drawn. At some angles, he looks right, but at others he looks way too square and harsh, and not at all like real Dean

- Dean is such a loveable, soft dork - And I love how protective he is of the Scooby gang's innocence

- But I didn't love all the hitting on Daphne. Mostly the persistence of it. Once or twice would have been fine, but it just kept happening, and Dean normally knows when to back off

- I want to know more about Cas's maybe-technically djinn queen wife. I can't wait to see how the fandom incorporates that tidbit into fic

- The ghost kid was so freaking sad. Dean's eyes when the burned the pocket knife slayed me

- Also, cue thousands of words of meta on Dean's lost childhood, and being turned into a weapon, and the ghost kud being literally tied to a pocket knife

- Maybe when they replace the TV, they can get a couch

#spn spoilers #spn 13x16

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writingthingsisdifficult · 7 years

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Flying high - The teaspoon girl pt 7

A witch turns Y/N into a teaspoon sized woman, and Sam and Dean has to make sure she doesn’t get squashed – and find a cure.

Word count: 3340

I’m sorry this part has taken so long. Unforeseen stuff happened (1,5 weeks in hospital among other things), but hopefully you’ll forgive me the delay.

This is the last part of this series. Hope you have enjoyed it. If you have, please let me know: I love hearing from you guys. Also let me know if you want on – or off – my tag list.

From part six:

“It’s too heavy. You won’t be able to carry it back to the window.”

She thought for a bit, then tugged on the string in the hood. “Tie this around me. That way you can pull me back.”

“That’s… actually a great idea,” Sam agreed, offering his thumb up for a high five. “You’re a genius!”

She blushed, but puffed up, taking every bit of praise from Sam to heart, feeling bigger than she had in ages.

They needed two attempts before the folder cooperated, but finally Y/N managed to get a good enough grip on the slippery paper, clinging to it with both arms and feet as Sam pulled her back to the window.

As Dean flipped through the information, tutting and shaking his head, Sam lifted Y/N up so she was level with his face. “Seriously,” he said with an adorable smile, “we couldn’t have done this without you.” He leaned forward and touched his nose to her head. “This will give us just enough time to get everything done before we have to hide again.”

“Nah, it was nothing,” Y/N said, but the smile on her face never faltered. The feeling of being needed expanded in her chest.

“Um, guys…?” Dean interrupted, pointing to the road. A set of bright headlights moved slowly in their direction. “Time to make ourselves scarce.”

Sam dropped Y/N into his pocket, and Dean picked up a piece of paper that had fallen to the ground, and they made their way quickly, but silently, back to the car.

Almost back to the motel, Sam put his hand over the pocket, pinning Y/N to his chest. “Sit still, please. It tickles when you move around like that.”

“What? I’m not moving.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing… it tickles,” he said, letting her go.

Frowning, Y/N folded her arms across her chest and slid down to the bottom of the pocket. “Sorry. I’ll just not do what I wasn’t doing. Or you could just let me up on your shoulder.”

She would never get over that weird, slightly scary feeling of having a huge hand loom over her and block the light before picking her up and lifting her through the air like a swing – even if that hand belonged to Sam Winchester, and she knew it would never intentionally hurt her. But she had never been one for rollercoasters and amusement parks, and that dip in her stomach always made her slightly queasy. And she really didn’t wanna throw up in Sam’s hair.

But once on his shoulder, the nausea disappeared, and she enjoyed the feeling of freedom. And the warmth from Sam’s skin, and his intoxicating scent, of course – she alive and breathing after all.

Back at the motel, Sam put her down on the table, and picked up the folder they’d so kindly relieved the police of. As he paced back and forth to get rid of the nervous energy in his legs, he flicked through the report. “Jeez,” he sighed. They could at least use good pictures. And… Have you seen this, Dean? This isn’t even… ‘…with psychopathic tendencies…’ Who wrote this? Oh… at least they got something right: ‘highly intelligent, and dangerous’…” Sam burst out laughing. “You think they have a template where they just fill in key words?”

Dean didn’t really listen to his brother’s outburst. He was more interested in what was going on on the table. “Hey, Sammy, will you shut up for just a second?” Sam’s mouth remained open, like he was about to give his brother a lethal rant, but before he could even think of a fitting insult, Dean continued: “Take a look at this.”

Four eyes were locked on Y/N, who huffed and threw her arms out to the side. “What?”

Dean didn’t answer her. Instead, he picked her up and weighed her in his hand before passing her to Sam, who blinked and bounced her up and down. “Huh…”

“Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” Y/N clung to Sam’s thumb as he sat her back down.

“Um,” Dean hummed, struggling to find the right words. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Y/N, but you feel heavier. I mean; you probably only weigh an ounce and a half right now, but I’m pretty sure you weighed closer to one this morning.”

Sam nodded. “You know, I think you’re growing. Look, yeah, you can reach to the top of the fake plant now if you stretch.”

Her eyes sparkled with the thought. “Really?”

“Really,” Sam beamed at her.

“It’s definitely going in the right direction. But it’s going slow,” Dean added.

Y/N’s shoulders slumped forward. Sitting down on the table with her legs crossed, she sighed. She was so tired of being small, of being useless.

“Shit, no, no, no, no… You’re shrinking again. Look, Dean!” Sam put his hand on her shoulders as if that would stop the process, pulling her to her feet in one swift motion.

“Great! I can’t even grow properly!” Y/N’s voice was flat and weary, and she rubbed her eyes with long, slow movements.

In a whirlwind of arms and legs and swears, Sam gathered his laptop and the bowl, and threw on a clean flannel.

Dean and Y/N followed him with their eyes. “Hey, where are you going?”

“The internet café. There’s no fucking signal here.”

“Now?”

“Yes, Dean, now. We solved the case, and now it’s time to focus on her,” he said, pointing in Y/N’s general direction. “She’s waited long enough, don’t you think?”

“Here,” Dean nodded, tossing the car keys to Sam and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

“Drive carefully,” Y/N added with a small wave of her hand, sinking back down on the table, hiding her head in her hands.

When Dean came back, almost an hour later with steam billowing through the bathroom door, she’d had more than enough time to sink deep down into the darkest corner of her brain. “Look at me,” she muttered, not particularly caring to hide her misery. “I’m useless. Only thing I’m good for is a quick snack for the diner cat.”

“Hey now, that’s not true,” Dean said, surprising her with the tenderness in his voice. “You’re the reason we got our hands on that report, remember? If we hadn’t, we’d be so screwed now. The authorities –“ he spat the word as if it tasted vile “– would be on our tail, or at the very least, the sheriff would’ve noticed us. And I’m not in the mood to punch his greasy face, though,” he added with a wink, “he deserves it. He was an asshole.”

A small smile spread from Y/N’s eyes, and she nodded slowly. “You’re right. But still, I’m not much use like this. Gah! I just wanna be me again. Don’t get me wrong, I’m super grateful for all you help, I really am, but it does something to a girl having to be dependent on someone even for the most trivial stuff. Like… like getting out of the goddamn bed!”

“I know, I know,” Dean replied. “It sucks. But we’re working on it. Sam’s easily the smartest person in this town. He’ll figure it out. We just gotta make the best of things until then.”

As if on cue, Dean’s phone rang. “Talk to me,” he said, holding the phone with his shoulder while he opened a new beer. “Wait, hold on. Lemme put you on speaker. Bet Y/N wanna hear too.” He put the phone down on the table.

“Yeah,” said Sam. “Hey, Y/N. It was a challenge, but I managed to translate the writing, the spell – I think.”

Dean pulled up a photo of the cracked bowl on his laptop and squinted at the pattern around the edge. “I swear, he’s like the biggest nerd out there,” he whispered with a scrunchy smile. Y/N giggled silently.

“What?” Sam asked. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Nothing. Go on.”

Y/N could picture the perfect bitchface Sam must have given his phone, because his voice was short and hard when he spoke again. “Right. The first two symbols are just for strengthening purposes. To make sure the spell sticks, I mean. And the rest… Well, it’s not perfect,” he said, his voice becoming more and more apologetic. “The language is formal and stilted, but I think I get the gist of it.”

In the background they heard the sound of papers rustling and a pen scratching over a hard surface. “This is what’s written on the bowl. Kinda hard to copy because of the chipped paint and crack from where it hit the floor, but…”

“Yeah, yeah. What does it say?”

“Right, so… this is what I’ve come up with: The beginning says you who receive – or it could be steal, no, I’m pretty sure it’s receive this blessing – or it could be curse, apparently they used the same word just with different pronunciations, will stay in your mind’s- brain?, not sure about that one, dimensions. That last word could be an abbreviation, and in that case it’s about making sunflowers grow…”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Y/N said with a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes at all.

“…so I doubt it is,” Sam continued, too excited to pay attention. “But get this: I did a bit of digging and found a similar line in a novelty spell from the 70’s.”

Dean growled. “Goddamn hippies!”

“Yeah. So it’s a growth spell – or more specific: a shrinking spell. That much we knew, right? Says here on the website that the effects last until the receiver has grown back to his or her original size.”

“Great! How do we do that?”

“Don’t say.”

“What?” Dean turned towards the miserable outburst from Y/N. “So I’m stuck like this?”

“For now. But we’ll find a cure. I promise.”

“Jesus!” Dean sighed, shaking his head tiredly. “See? This is why I can’t stand witches. At least with a werewolf you know it wants to eat you.”

Sam agreed. “Uh-huh, but now we know what we’re dealing with, sorta. But listen… I’ve copied down as much as I could, we can go over it again when I get back. Three heads think better than one.”

“Sure,” Y/N groaned. “I guess.”

“Hey, Sammy? Pick up some food on the way back, will ya? I’m starving.”

Sam chuckled. “Always thinking with your stomach, huh? Yeah, I’ll see what I can find. The diner’s closed I think, but maybe there’s a Domino’s or something.”

With the promise of something to fill his growling belly, Dean plopped down on his bed and switched on the TV. Y/N decided to smarten up a bit before dinner.

About ten minutes later, though, she was in trouble. “Uh… Dean, can you help me please?” There was almost no power in her voice, and the fact that she was stuck in a Barbie dress didn’t make things easier. With every wriggle, the velcro ate a little more of her hair, and it was beginning to get painful.

She tried one last time: bent her neck even more, the awkward angle starting to sting seriously. “Hey, Dean,” she said again, with more force this time. Still no reaction. Was she really that invisible? “Yo! Dean! A little help here? Before I choke to death in a frilly dress!” she bellowed, breathing hard to keep the volume up.

Dean whipped around, knocking his silver knife off the bedside table, worry in his eyes and a half-chewed pen still in his mouth. “Jesus Christ, Y/N! What happened?” he muttered, hurrying over to help her.

“Got stuck is what happened,” she replied, combing through her hair once he’d untangled her from the dress.

“I can see that,” he chuckled. “You said you’d rather be dead than be seen in that dress, if I recall correctly.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to dress up a little.” Pouting, she pulled the dress on properly, and motioned for Dean to close the velcro. “It’s nice to… I don’t now, feel pretty sometimes, you know.”

Dean stared at her. “Okay, who you tryin’ to impress? I know for a fact it ain’t me. Only one who isn’t here is Sammy, so…”

Willing the heat away from her face and failing spectacularly, Y/N stuck her tongue out. “Shut up!”

“Oh ho!” He grinned so widely his cheeks threatened to split, voice filled with glee, and he gave her a cheeky look. “It suits you. The dress. But you know you don’t have to dress up for Sammy to like you, right? He’s pretty much doomed already.”

“ ‘m not doing it for him,” she protested, but the butterflies in her belly told her otherwise. And Dean’s statement, however fake it might have been, made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, like she was floating on air.

“Holy shit!” Dean exclaimed, any humour instantly gone from his voice.

“What?” The elation deflated, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable.

“You just… I mean, maybe this is… Gotta go double check.” He returned tot the table and sifted through the notes Sam had left behind, muttering to himself. “Phone… Where did I put… Sam’s gonna go ballistic… So obvious! Come on! Where…”

Y/N ignored the rest of his muttering. It made no sense anyway. Instead she swirled in front of the hand mirror she’d convinced them to put up. Dean was right. The dress was a bit too big, but it suited her.

“You’re adorable,” Dean said, keeping his distance so he wouldn’t get hurt.

“So you’ve said…” Y/N replied with a lopsided smile. She was surprised she didn’t mind him saying so as much as before. Maybe it was the promise of a cure looming on the horizon, or maybe it was the feeling of the frilly dress swishing around her ankles, but she felt good.

“It’s true,” Dean continued, daring a few steps closer so he could sit down. “And Sam is crazy about you – uh, he’s probably gonna kill me for saying it – I mean it,” he added in response to the sceptical look she gave him. “Hell, even I would give it a go if you weren’t so damn annoying all the time.” Dean winked and leaned back just as Sam came back with two large pizza boxes.

“You’re not helping, Dean,” Y/N replied with a sad huff. “I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but lying like that…”

“What’s he lying about now?” Sam asked over his shoulder, fetching napkins and something to drink.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Not lying,” he said indignantly.

Y/N became a mosaic of pink splotches, and her skin burned like she’d been dipped in chilli powder. “Uh… he was just trying to make me feel better about this whole situation,” she began, stuffing a tiny piece of pepperoni in her mouth to delay the inevitable humiliation. “By kinda *munch* implying that you *munch* uh, arecrazyaboutme.” She finished silently and as fast as she could get the words out of her mouth, and took a long drink to hide her embarrassment and disappointment; despite her best efforts, what Dean said kindled a small flicker of hope in her, decimating her hard work at keeping her own feelings under wraps.

“Not implying anything. Also: not lying,” Dean repeated, stuffing his face with pizza.

Sam sat completely still for about three whole seconds before carefully putting down his slice and wiping his hands clean. His mouth twitched, and his skin was becomingly pink, and the look he gave his brother contained both daggers and poison.

“My brother is an excellent liar,” he said, silently communicating a I’m gonna kill you later to Dean, “but on this occasion he told you the truth. I am very… you mean so much to me. However,” he added with an apologetic smile before returning with another hard glare at Dean, “this was not the way I wanted you to find out.”

Dean just grinned and nodded sideways at Y/N, clearly wanting Sam to notice, but he didn’t. He was too preoccupied with gnawing on his thumb and looking anywhere but at her.

With a wave of his hand, Dean stopped Sam. “Say it again.”

“What? That you’re a liar and– ?”

“No, no, the… the other one.”

The rosy pink spread further over Sam’s face and down his neck. “Um… That Y/N is –“

“No, not to me, you dumbass. Say it to her.”

Y/N looked between the two of them, understanding next to nothing, and liking it even less.

Sam looked like he was about to die of embarrassment. “Christ! Um… Y/N… I really… REALLY like you, and I wanted to, um… Holy shit!” he interrupted himself, gaping at her.

Y/N was growing. Slowly at first, but with every word Sam uttered, she gained a little height. Soon she had grown three inches and the dress she was wearing was starting to split in the seam.

“Here.” Sam offered his flannel shirt, placing it gently around her tiny shoulders, almost drowning her in soft plaid. “That dress was cute on you, but I think it’s a bit small now,” he said with a wink.

Excitement coursed through Y/N. Sam was flirting with her – actually flirting, and she was growing, feeling more and more like her old self again. It was a high that kept her floating on clouds. Right now she could take anything the world could throw at her.

Growing bolder, Y/N scooted to the edge of the table and put her hand on Sam’s. “Things don’t always happen according to plan, you know. Maybe we should thank Dean – I had planned on pining after you for the rest of my life, because how could you possibly have feelings for someone like me?”

“How could I not?” he replied, ignoring Dean’s irritating and exciting coos. “You’re brilliant. You’re smarter than me, and Dean (Hey, speak for yourself!), I love talking with you. Whenever you start on a topic you’re excited about it’s like you’re bubbling: always bouncing up and down and waving your arms around. It’s adorable. No one has taught me more stuff than you have. And you’re funny as hell. How many crappy motel nights disappeared into fits of laughter? And your laughter sets fire to my soul. You keep me above the water, Y/N.”

As he spoke again, she grew faster and faster, beaming from his praise, and savouring the butterflies in her chest.

“Be careful so she doesn’t outgrow her size,” Dean muttered with a bright smile, but nobody listened to him.

Sam shook his head gently. “You challenge me and make me laugh, and you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I wish you could see yourself the way I do. Don’t think I haven’t noticed when you stand in front of the mirror and criticise every inch of yourself. Please stop doing that! It breaks my heart, seeing you so insecure. But now… Not a day will pass without telling you how much you mean to me, and I hope you will listen. Listen and believe it. I can’t lie to you, and you know it.”

When finally stopped talking, Y/N looked up. Her eyes were shining brightly, and she gave him a sly smile, jumping down from the table, quickly buttoning her shirt. She bent down closer to him. The heat from his skin caressed hers, and she exhaled slowly as he came even closer. In her chest her heart beat so hard she could hear it clearly.

“Ew!” Dean exclaimed, blowing a raspberry and getting to his feet, grabbing a slice of pizza. “I definitely didn’t think this through. You’re gonna get all lovey and gross now, aren’t you? I’m gonna go hide in the bathroom until it’s over. Come get me when it’s safe.”

Sighing, Sam leaned back in his chair. “Way to go, Dean. You’re gonna pay for that,” he added menacingly before pulling Y/N down on his lap and putting his arms around her. He couldn’t resist burying his face in her hair like he’d dreamed about so many times. “Let’s just eat the pizza while it’s still warm-ish. And then you can go book a room for yourself. I don’t want you here to interrupt anything else.”

Dean faked a look of disgust, making Y/N giggle loudly, and just to be evil, she left a trail of feathery kisses down Sam’s neck. “Yeah, Dean. Get your own room. But first: where’s that beer you promised me?”

Tagging my wonderful friends:

@awesomeahwu @brynleewolfe @funwithfanfics @babeinthebowtie @savingapplepie-eatingthings @winchesterprincessbride @savvythedork @littlegreenplasticsoldier @youtubehelpsmesurvive @blackcherrywhiskey @mrswhozeewhatsis @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @aiaranradnay @iamreadinginsecret @barneybrigade @fandomismyspiritanimal @mogaruke @kathaswings @superwholockyooooo @missdestiel67 @blackfandomtrashandproud @wstrumpel @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @saradiamayaf @escabell @exploratiionist @hennessy0274-blog @sushi-senpai-chan @femmewinchester @tardis-is-mine @badasssweetsrebel @sama1314 @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @megasimpleplan4ever

#sam x reader #reader insert #supernatural fan fiction #fanfic #sam winchester #dean winchester #the teaspoon girl part 7 #flying high #fluff #love #spn #writing is hard

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impalasutra · 7 years

Text

CYOSTODA - Part 3: Leah Picks Dare

Characters: Dean, Leah, Sam, and Reader

Location: Motel room, Crappsville, USA

Word Count: 1354

Warnings: Female nudity, girls making out, clothed male/naked female interactions, drunkenness, cursing

Choose Your Own Supernatural Truth Or Dare Adventure Mastermess Or, here’s how you can follow the thread to my corner of the story: Part 1: Setup - @littlegreenplasticsoldier Part 2: Dean Picks Dare - @eyes-of-a-disney-princess

Part 3 -

“Ok, Leah, guess you’re up. Truth or dare?”

Leah downed the contents of her drink and reached forward with her glass in hand, indicating Sam should give her a refill. Through all of this she never took her eyes off of Dean and, when her mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, she had a sexy smirk on her lips. Leah held her now full cup up towards Dean in a toast. “Dare,” she challenged him.

Damn, this girl had balls. You liked her even more.

“Alright!” Dean exclaimed. “Getting this game started right!” He paused and took a sip of his own drink. “I can’t help but notice that Y/N’s bra looks fucking amazing on her but it also really compliments your skin tone.”

Sam snorted at his brother’s words.

“Just because you don’t know what would look good on a woman doesn’t mean all men are clueless,” Dean snapped towards Sam.

Sam muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “No chick flick moments, my ass,” but Dean ignored him as well as your giggles and turned back to Leah.

“I dare you to go into the bathroom and trade underwear with Y/N.”

Your laughter stopped immediately at Dean’ words and you whipped your head around to look at Leah who had turned to look at you. When your eyes met hers, she licked her lips before turning back to Dean.

“When you say underwear, what exactly do you mean?” Leah questioned, her voice unreadable.

“Panties, bra, those sexy garter belt things, if you’re wearing one… all that stuff,” Dean clarified.

“Huh,” Leah responded, looking at you apologetically and then turning back to Dean. “I, uh, I’m not wearing a bra,” she admitted.

“What?” you squawked at the same time as Dean turned to Sam and said, “Well, this just got more interesting,” with a wicked glint in his eye.

The brothers both turned the full extent of their charm on you. “You’re not gonna chicken out, are you, Y/N?” Dean asked with a wink. “Sammy’s been fantasizing about this moment for an entire year.”

Sam shot Dean a solid bitchface before looking back at you. “Rules are rules, Y/N,” the younger Winchester reminded you.

“It’s not even my turn and I’m going to end up half naked? No way,” you replied but Sam gave you his best puppy dog eyes and you found yourself giving in and standing next to Leah. “You and your stupid face…” you muttered before speaking up, “Sam, that glass better be full to the brim when we get back.”

You and Lean made your way into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. You looked at one another for a tense moment before the silence was broken. You weren’t sure which of you started it but soon enough, both of you were giggling at the absurdity of where the evening had taken you. The whisky had been flowing so you were both pretty drunk already and about to exchange underwear in a motel bathroom, despite having only met each other barely an hour earlier.

You and Leah calmed down and began the process of trading. “So, how long have you known Dean and Sam?” Leah asked as she unbuttoned and pulled down the fly of her jeans, carefully stepping out of them in the small bathroom.

You mirrored her actions as you replied. “We’ve been working together for a year, now,” you told the other woman. “Tonight is an anniversary party, of sorts, actually.”

You both shimmied out of your panties and passed them to the other. Yours matched the bra you were wearing and Dean had been right, the color complimented her soft, smooth skin beautifully. Luckily, you and Leah seemed to be about the same size so the underwear she passed you just about fit and you easily slid the lace boyshorts up your legs.

“Thanks for letting me celebrate with you,” Leah said as you drunkenly fumbled with the clasp on your bra. “Here, turn around, let me help.”

You turned your back on Leah and she whipped her shirt over her head before she ran a hand through your hair and unhooked your bra, sliding the straps down your arms. Her naked chest was pressed against your back and the mood in the tiny room shifted.

You both shifted so that you were facing the mirror and Leah’s eyes locked on yours. Her hands moved to your arms, which were crossed over your chest, holding your bra in place. Leah eased your arms down and you allowed your bra to fall off.

In the mirror you watched Leah’s eyes darken and you licked your lips. Leah’s head dropped and her mouth found a sensitive spot just below your ear. Your head dropped back onto her shoulder and you bit your lower lip as Leah cupped one of your breasts. Her hands were softer and gentler than you were used to feeling against your skin and you couldn’t help but let out a breathy “fuck.”

“Happy Anniversary, Y/N,” Leah whispered, her breath hot and teasing in your ear.

You turned in Leah’s arms and captured her lips in a kiss but before things could go too far, there was a banging on the door. You and Leah jumped apart like teenagers whose parents had walked in on them as Dean shouted through the door.

“Are you two ever coming out? There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, ladies!”

You rolled your eyes at his words and Leah broke into giggles again. She slipped your bra on and you did up the clasps for her, running a hand along her back in the process. “You ready?” Leah asked you as she reached for the door knob.

“As I’ll ever be,” you told her.

With that, Leah opened the door and stepped out into the motel room wearing nothing but your lingerie set. You followed Leah out in her lace panties, your arms once again crossed over your chest. You both crossed the room again and Leah sat back down gracefully. You sat on the foot of the bed before sliding down onto the floor. It was much less graceful but you didn’t want to move your arms and expose your chest to the brothers. You looked for your glass, needing some more liquid courage in order to keep this night going.

Finally, you found your glass, filled with whisky as you had requested, but it was out of your reach in Dean’s hands. “Dean, give me my drink,” you commanded.

“Aw, you gotta ask nicely, sweetheart,” Dean replied with a wink, “or, you could just reach out and take it.” He smirked at you and wagged his eyebrows.

You glared at Dean, refusing to budge but, unfortunately, Dean managed to hold up under your angry gaze and didn’t give you an inch. You were locked in a standoff.

“Give her the glass or you’ll never hear about what happened while we were naked in the bathroom,” Leah shot towards Dean.

“Give her the glass, Dean,” Sam quickly agreed.

You would never understand what it was about girl-on-girl action that got straight men excited but you were grateful that it did when Dean nodded emphatically and passed you your whisky, getting it close enough that you only needed to move one arm to grab it from him. You threw the amber liquid back and gave yourself a few moments to prepare before reaching out for the bottle with your other arm.

Sam passed you the bottle, making a point of keeping his eyes on your face. Dean, on the other hand, was not quite the gentleman his brother was pretending to be and you felt his eyes roaming over your body as you poured yourself another glass of whisky. “Alright, it’s not like you’ve never seen a naked woman before,” you grumbled as you started to feel the last round of alcohol hit your system. “Let’s keep this game moving.”

Leah took that as her cue and turned her gaze on Sam, a wicked glint in her eye. “Truth or dare, Sammy?”

Part 4 - Sam Picks Truth written @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog

Part 4 - Sam Picks Dare written by @skybinx-blog

CYOSTODA Crew tag: @winchesterswoonathon, @saenalife, @inkiestdawn, @curliesallovertheplace, @kreborn17, @winchester-writes, @kayteonline, @aprofoundbondwithdean, @moonlitskinwalker, @rizlow1, @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog, @sunriserose1023, @sammit-janet, @revwinchester, @notnaturalanahi, @babypieandwhiskey, @klaineaholic, @winchesterprincessbride, @ilostmyshoe-79, @mamalinda09, @butiaintgonnaloveem, @kittenofdoomage, @deandoesthingstome, @skybinx-blog, @gemini75eeyore, @ive-been-told-that-im-fangirling, @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid

#cyostoda #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #SPN #spn fanfic #choose your own adventure

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