Fic!dump of DOOM!

I wrote an awful lot of fic in the last couple of weeks. This dissertation has a lot to answer for. For the most part, I managed to pull myself away from them and back to work before they were finished, so I've spent this evening finishing them. And there are a LOT more than I anticipated. *shakes head*

So, uh, have a fic!dump. Bear in mind that most of these were caused by extreme boredom and procrastination, and none of them have really been betaed, although

merihn did look over several of them. Hell,

merihn caused most of them. That filthy enabler.

Dean fucked like he was trying to prove a point, and then left the minute it was over. Sam had no idea where he went, just that he pulled his clothes on without meeting Sam's eyes and was back with coffee by the time Sam woke up. Whilst Sam was in the shower, Dean would strip the bed, and tidy away all trace of what had happened.

The denial wasn't healthy, and left a shadow on their relationship, and sometimes Sam wondered if he should be making Dean talk about it. But Dean's first reaction to emotional moments and conversations he didn't want to have was to run. Sam didn't confront Dean because if he did, he was worried that this was the one thing that could make him leave and never come back.

********

Broken Men
(Wincest, 638 words, angst, R)

Sam's not stupid. He knows he's being used; he just can't bring himself to care. Well, not enough to stop it, not enough to say no.

It's messed up, and it's wrong, but it's not Dean's fault. It's Sam's fault. He started it, back at Bobby's, when they were both so broken that he though they'd never recover. He crawled into Dean's bed, with a whispered, 'please?' and took everything Dean could give him. He knows Dean well enough to know that he wouldn't say no to it – to anything, really, that involves sex.

But it's not Sam that Dean wants. It's any warm body, any welcoming arms. Most nights, Dean goes out looking for it. Far more often than he did before Dad died. He disappears for hours, and comes back tipsy and smelling of smoke and sex. Sam stays in, watches tv and emails those of his Stanford friends who still bother to email him back.

Some nights though, some nights the hunt goes on too late or they're miles from the nearest bar. There's no one else for Dean to turn to, so he crawls into Sam's bed in the dark hours of the night, and Sam lets him, lets him take pleasure and relief because he's too weak to say no. He wants it too much, even though he knows he's just a replacement for any other willing body. He feels Dean shudder as he comes, then pause for a tiny moment as he gathers his brain back and then he slips away, back to his own bed. Sam lies awake for hours, wondering why he can't say no, wondering why he keeps holding onto the faint hope that one night, Dean might stay.

In the morning, he can't meet Dean's eyes until he's had a shower, until he's had time to wash away his desperation and put his just-brothers façade back on. He doesn't want Dean to see what he's hiding, doesn't want Dean to know how much more he wants when all Dean wants is someone to fuck.

****

Dean's not blind. He can see the shame in Sam's face as he slips into the bathroom without meeting his eyes. He knows he's causing his brother pain, but he just can't stop. He tries to drown himself in other people, tries to fuck away his unnatural feelings with strangers, but it's not the same. The nights he can't get away, he lies awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to tell himself, 'not tonight, not tonight', but inevitably he finds himself getting up and crossing to Sam's bed. Maybe if Sam didn't open himself up to him, maybe if he said no....but Dean knows his brother, and he can't blame him for this. Sam's just trying to help him – like he was the first time it happened. Looking into Dean and seeing the one thing he needed to put himself back together after Dad's death, and offering it selflessly.

He never offered again, but he doesn't say no, not when he thinks Dean needs this. Dean tries not to think about how much he needs this, how none of those others can ever give him this. He runs his hands over Sam’s body, traces his skin with his mouth and tries to pretend that Sam wants this as much as he does. Afterwards, he always pauses, always waits to see if Sam will put his arms round him, want him to stay, but he never does. Dean knows he never will – he doesn't want this, he doesn't need it. He's just trying to help his brother.

Dean waits as Sam spends half an hour in the shower, steam billowing from the crack under the door, and vows to himself that it will be the last time, but he already knows that it’s a lie.

*******

Link to Drive Another Nail In, the next story in the 'verse.

Bamtrip
(Wincest, 1211 words, schmoop, R)

One of Dean's English teachers had taught a series of lessons on made-up words. He'd made them read 'Jabberwocky', then asked them to define 'brillig' 'slithy' and the other such words for their homework.

Dean had done it in the Impala, squinting at his exercise book in the light from his flashlight while Sam sat beside him and tried to master long division and Dad dug up, salted and burned the corpse of Jeremiah Bartholomew.

Brillig: Dark enough that you can only see silhouettes but light enough so you can see the gleam in someone's eyes.

Borogroves: a group of trees growing so close together that they look like they're one tree.

In their next lesson, the teacher had asked them to make up a word of their own, but not tell anyone what it meant. Then he'd made them come up one by one and write them on the blackboard and had them guess at what each other's meant. No one had guessed Dean's.

Bamtrip: the sound of rain on the roof of the Impala

Dean had realised that there just weren't words for some stuff, so after that he started to make up his own.

Hicrough: The sound you make when you laugh too hard with broken ribs.

Shrukel: the creeping feeling you get when you know there's something evil right behind you.

He shared some of them with Sam, of course. He shared everything with Sam. Sam had laughed, and then started to use them in everyday conversation. Every time he did, Dean felt a surge of pride and ownership.

Hreathered: So hot that you can't move.

Bralthet: Bored enough to play stupid car games like I-Spy

There was a whole set just for Sam, of course.

Twerby: the look on Sam's face when he was reading.

Creeal: the feeling you get when Sam has an argument with Dad and you wonder if Sam will one day just leave.

It wasn't until Sam actually left that Dean realised there were some concepts he couldn't fit letters to, that couldn't be described in one word.

Watching Sam's bus disappear down the road.

The look in Dad's eyes when he found one of Sam's books tucked in the glove compartment a week after he'd gone.

After that, Dean stopped using his made-up words. There was no one who understood them now, anyway - Dad had never learnt the meanings behind them, just chuckled when Dean or Sam used them. By the time Sam came back, Dean had forgotten almost all about them.

The first time he used one, it was an accident. He was concentrating on the road as they drove through Wyoming during a thunderstorm, leaning forward to strain at the road because he couldn't see more than a few metres in front of the car, and not really paying attention to what he was saying.

"Man, listen to that bamtrip," he complained, "I hope it's not going to hail."

Sam was silent for a moment, and then cracked up.

Garump: Sam's loud, happy laughter when he's genuinely amused and not trying to hide anything.

Dean shot him a look and then fixed his eyes back on the road. He refused to feel embarrassed, and just waited in silence until Sam had stopped laughing.

After that, he started to drop them into conversation occasionally, just to see Sam's grin of recognition. The first time Sam used one, Dean was not expecting it. They were walking through a haunted house, Dean holding a shotgun while Sam scanned with the EMF reader.

Sam suddenly paused and whispered, "I'm shrukkeling." Dean stared at him for a long moment, before his brain kicked in and he spun round to see the spirit of a woman in a bloodstained dress lunge at Sam. Dean shot her full of rocksalt and she disappeared with a shriek.

Cladner: The moment of heart-stopping terror when you realise Sam's in danger.

They dug up the corpse of Enid Brownlow and burnt her, but didn't factor in her son, Keith, who threw Dean into a tree. Dean was knocked out for a few moments, and when he opened his eyes, Sam was bent over him looking worried, and Keith was nowhere to be seen.

"You ok?" said Sam, his voice sounding husky.

"Yeeah," groaned out Dean, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head.

Sam let out a sigh of relief and put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Man, I thought you were..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but Dean could see the shadow of fear in Sam's eyes.

Trumful: the feeling of slight surprise and spreading warmth when you realise how much you mean to Sam.

He put his hand on Sam's arm. "I'm fine, Sammy," he said. Sam gave him a long look and then bent forward and kissed him softly on the lips.

Flianing: realising everything you've ever wanted is right in front of you, waiting for you to reach out and take it.

Dean froze, not sure what to do, and Sam sat back on his heels and looked panicked.

"God," he said, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I was just..."

Dean sat forward and fastened his lips over Sam's before Sam could overthink this, or run away. Sam gave a muffled sound and then opened his mouth up to Dean's tongue.

It wasn't until a few months later, when he was lying on Sam's chest, feeling his heartbeat and wondering if he was up for the next round of sex yet, that he started to tell Sam the new ones he'd been making up. He licked up the side of Sam's neck and bit his earlobe. Sam made a noise.

"That's a whickle," Dean said to him softly. Sam grinned.

Dean ran his hand down to Sam's cock and grasped it. Sam gasped and arched his back slightly.

"The burn when you push inside me," he said, stroking Sam's cock, "is called breoll."

Sam reached up, grabbed his waist and pulled him forward. Dean let go of Sam's cock as he was pulled back onto his chest. Sam rolled them both over and grabbed the lube from the bedside table.

As he started to push two slick fingers inside Dean, Dean pushed his hips up and said, "The look you give me through your hair, when you're sucking me off and I'm about to come is delgic."

Sam laughed, softly, and Dean wondered if he was beginning to sound like a girl. Sam pressed a third finger inside him, and Dean took the opportunity to stop speaking and let all thought flee from his head.

The next morning, Dean woke up before Sam for once. Sam was pressed up against his body, with one arm flung over his chest. Dean watched him sleep for a while, trying to think of a word to describe a mixture of friend, brother and lover. Then Sam stirred, and blinked his eyes open. He met Dean's gaze and smiled sleepily and Dean realised that he didn't need to think of a word for it, because 'Sam' was all that, and more besides.

********

The List
Wincest, 569 words, PG-13.

Life was going pretty damn well for Dean - the sun was shining, he had a hot cup of coffee, the Impala was making that humming thrum noise that never failed to make him smile and he'd been fucking his brother for a month. He suspected it was the last that was making today particularly brilliant, but he wasn't really one to over-analyse these things. So long as Sam kept grinning at him when he kissed him and not getting freaked out when Dean stroked his cock and told him he wanted to fuck him, Dean was happy to just go with the flow.

He pushed open the door of the motel room, and was mildly surprised to see Sam sitting up at the desk, fully dressed and frowning over something he was writing, rather than sprawled bonelessly on the bed, debauched and naked, which was how Dean had left him.
He looked up distractedly when Dean came in, focussed on the coffee and cleared a space on the desk for Dean to set it down. Dean squinted at some of the bits of paper as he did so, but wasn't able to make out anything intelligable - just Sam's chicken-scratch writing saying things like:

but! do I want to share?need supplies - find shop.

"Whatcha doing?" he said, after a moment where Sam ignored him to write something down.

"Making a list," said Sam. He glanced up at Dean, then down at his mouth, then frowned and wrote something else down. Dean noticed that at some stage he'd chewed the pen and now had ink on his lower lip. He wondered if Sam would mind if he licked it clean.
Dean waited for further details to be forth-coming, but Sam just took a sip of coffee, his eyes still glued to his papers.

"A list of what?" he prompted, but Sam wasn't paying attention, and just hmmed as he frowned at something he'd written, and then sucked on the end of his pen.

That was enough for Dean, and he reached out and took the pen from Sam, who looked up at him surprised. Dean bent down and kissed him. Sam gave a pleased sound and opened his mouth to Dean. He tasted of ink, and, really, that shouldn't turn Dean on, but it did. Sam pulled back, gave Dean the happy grin that lit up his whole face and made Dean feel like he'd won the lottery, then leaned around Dean and crossed something out on his list.

"I'm not sharing you," he said, and Dean resisted the temptation to react like a 14-year old girl with her first boyfriend and instead kissed Sam again.

"A list of what?" repeated Dean, hoping he had Sam's attention now.

Sam gave him another grin, and this one was purely wicked. He pulled a piece of paper from the pile, and handed it to Dean. At the top, written in capitals and neatly underlined, it said, 'Sam Winchester's List of Neferious Uses For Dean'. He ran his eyes down what he realised was just the first page, and then looked back up at Sam, surprised and turned on by his brother's unexpectedly dirty mind. Sam grinned back smugly.

"You are such a geek," he said, trying to wipe the shit-eating look off Sam's face, but Sam just laughed and kissed him again.

********

Something About The Boy
Sam/Jess, 710 words, PG-13

She doesn't need her friends to tell her that there's something weird about him.

She remembers when Scott had produced a knife at a party once, a souvenir from some drunken holiday. It'd been passed round, everyone holding it a little unsteadily, not sure what to do with it. Sam had hefted it in a way that looked practiced, looked a little less than impressed then passed it on without a word. He'd sat silent through the following conversation when all the boys were trying to show off - 'my uncle let me shoot his gun once.'

Later, she'd seen him run a thoughtful finger down the blade as it lay forgotten on the table. He'd had a strange look on his face, as if he was reliving a memory. Then he'd pulled his hand back, gone into the kitchen and fixed himself a drink.

Melissa thinks he's in hiding from someone. Jessica overheard her telling Francis that it was probably drugs-related.

"It always is, these days," she said, wisely. Jessica remembered a brief visit to Melissa's house, set in a neighbourhood of wide, suburban streets, and the neighbours who all seemed to know her and thought that she'd been watching too much tv.

Still, on dark nights, as they walked together down to the store, or home from a bar, Sam was twitchy. He never really met her eyes - too busy scanning the area.

She could remember him reacting to a homeless guy who'd drunkenly staggered out of an alleyway and surprised them both. He'd stepped in front of her, and his hand had gone straight to his belt, and then stopped suddenly, as if expecting to find something there that was gone. The homeless guy had started saying something loud and accusatory, and Jessica had been frightened but the tension had drained away from Sam, until there was not a trace of fear or even wariness in him. He'd spoken in a calm, slow voice, and the homeless guy had retreated, just backed down in the face of Sam's confidence.

Chrissie said he was lying about his age, and had already done a tour in the army. She claimed that he'd had a violent and horrific time in battle and was emotionally scarred.

Jessica didn't know about emotional scars, but he certainly had enough physical ones - she remembered pouring over his skin the first night they'd spent together, wondering aloud that he must have been a clumsy child. He'd twitched slightly, become uncomfortable, and she'd felt guilty. She'd leant up and kissed him, hoping he heard the unspoken, 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry.'

Jen has a complex theory involving a satanic cult, arcane rituals and a sudden conversion to Catholicism. She's always been a touch over-imaginative.

Still, sometimes Jessica finds support for it - how many people their age were fluent in Latin anyway? And he did have a tiny bottle of water in his fridge with a cross on the front. He'd told her it was a souvenir of somewhere he'd been as a child.

"You must have seen The Exorcist," said Jack, eyes lighting up at the mention of his favourite film.

Sam had hesitated for a moment, then said, "I've seen it, but it must have been nearly fifteen years ago. I can't remember much."

"You must have been pretty young then," said Shawn. "My parents would have pitched a fit if I'd seen a horror movie when I was that age."

"My Dad rented it for us," said Sam, frowning slightly as if trying to bring back a long-forgotten memory.

"Seriously?" said Jack, "he sounds pretty cool."

Sam had looked up then, and pulled himself back to the present. "I'm not in the mood for a horror movie tonight. What else have you got?"

Tricia, always practical and often sceptical, maintained that his past was as normal and dull as their's had been, but that he was trying to cultivate an air of mysteriousness in order to make himself look cool.

Jessica wasn't sure what she thought - she wasn't sure it mattered. When she was lying in his arms, watching him sleep, it didn't matter what his past was, it only mattered that his present, and hopefully his future, included her.

*********

Untitled Porn
(Wincest, PWP, 1241 words)

Dean ran his hand down Sam's chest and felt him tremble. He gave him a reassuring grin, which Sam returned, but Dean could see the trepidation in his eyes.

"Don't worry, Sammy," he whispered, "I'm going to make you feel so good."

Dean moved his hand lower and Sam closed his eyes as Dean's hand tightened around his cock. He moaned quietly. Dean leaned down and kissed him. Dean moved his hand on Sam's cock, and distracted him with more hot kisses while his other hand fumbled for the lube on the bedside table. The lid clicked when he flicked it open with his thumb, and Sam opened his eyes and tensed. Dean stilled his hand for a moment.

"Are you sure about this?" he said, giving Sam a chance to back out. He didn't want to be the guy who pressured his younger brother into being fucked.

Sam lifted his head up and met Dean's lips with a bruising kiss. "Definitely," he whispered, and Dean was relieved by how determined he sounded.

Dean started moving his hand in hard, slow strokes up Sam's cock, and Sam lay back with a groan. Dean took the opportunity to kneel back between Sam's legs and trailed his other hand across his stomach and down his thigh. He let go of Sam's cock briefly to grab the lube again and squeeze some over his fingers, and was gratified by the whine Sam gave. He bent forward and kissed Sam's chest, licked a path around his nipple, which hardened. He gently slide his hand beneath Sam and circled his finger around his hole. Sam exhaled, and Dean pushed his finger inside, past the tight ring of muscle. It was unbelievably hot and he could feel Sam clenching around his finger. Dean stopped breathing for a moment, and looked carefully at Sam, who had his eyes closed and was biting his lower lip.

"Ok?" he whispered, not wanting to break the silence, but having to know how Sam was feeling. Sam opened his eyes, and they were almost black with desire. He nodded, a little frantically.

"Go on," he said, his voice breathy and hoarse. Dean felt his dick, already hard against his stomach, twitch. He pushed his finger further inside Sam, and Sam shifted his hips up to meet it. Dean grasped Sam's hip with his other hand, and crooked his finger inside Sam. Sam gave a jolted breath and shut his eyes again. Dean ran his hand across Sam's thigh and then grasped his cock, already dripping with precome, again.

Sam groaned, and whispered, "God, Dean," as if he was dying. Dean pulled his finger out of Sam, and then pushed it back in, trying to go slowly, gently, but desperate to get his dick where his finger was, to feel Sam's tight heat around him. Sam rolled his hips and Dean took his finger out again, and replaced it with two. Sam gasped and stretched his arms out to fist at the sheets. Dean bent his fingers and felt Sam shudder. Watching Sam like this, spread out and looking more wanton than he could ever have believed was turning him on more than he'd expected. He began to worry that unless he got inside Sam soon, he was going to blow his load just from watching Sam's face and his dark, pleading eyes. Dean spread his fingers apart, and then pulled them out and gently pushed three inside Sam. Sam groaned again, and his stomach muscles rippled as he tensed and then relaxed. Dean left his fingers still for a moment and bent down to kiss Sam's belly. Sam gave him a desperate look.

"Don't. Stop." he hissed, and Dean chuckled softly. He moved his fingers inside Sam again, drawing them out and then pushing them back in, and watched Sam shudder and moan.
It was getting too much for him, and he opened the lube again to squeeze some on his cock, but his hand was shaking, and he ended up getting more on the sheets than on himself. Still, it was enough, and he stroked himself a couple of times to spread it around. Sam had his eyes glued on the movement of Dean's hand, and then raised his gaze to Dean's.

Dean opened his mouth, but Sam spoke before he could get the words out. "I swear, Dean, if you ask me if this okay one more time, I'm going to key the Impala."

Dean shut his mouth and frowned. There was no call to threaten the Impala, but then Sam lifted his hips again, and all thoughts that weren't, 'Get in Sammy now' fled. He pushed his fingers apart in Sam one last time, then pulled them out. He pulled Sam's hips up towards him and met Sam's steady gaze. Sam was biting his lower lip again. Dean pushed slowly inside, trying not to go too fast, or too rough. Sam gave a moan that made Dean's heart leap to his throat and he thought for a moment he was going to come before he was even properly inside. He paused his slow movement, half to give Sam a chance to adjust and half to calm himself down, and felt Sam's muscles shift and relax around him. He stayed still for as long as he could, then continued the long slow push inside. Sam gave a loud gasp, shifted his hips just so and Dean suddenly slid all the way in. He drew in a shuddering breath.

Sam's hand came up to grab his wrist where he was clutching at Sam's hips like a lifeline. "Wait," he choked, and Dean held still and steady, even though it felt like he was going to die if he didn't move right now.

After what seemed like an eternity, Sam nodded at him. "Ok, ok," he said.

Dean pulled out and then pushed back in again immediately, trying to keep himself gentle, but desperate to just pound into Sam. Sam made an unrecognisable noise, so Dean did it again and again, until Sam was panting and moaning, and Dean thought he was going to break apart. Dean pulled one of his hands off Sam's hips, where they were leaving bruises, and grasped his dick. Sam thrashed, and Dean started pulling on it, trying to keep his strokes in rhythm with his thrusts. It didn't take much, and then Sam was shuddering and crying out and shooting hot, white streams all over Dean's hand. The sight of Sam's face as he came sent Dean tumbling over the edge, and he thrust into Sam one last time, and then came with a moan and a gasp. It felt like every part of him was breaking into pieces, and he collapsed on top of Sam, who was lying still and drawing air into his lungs with deep, heavy breaths.

They lay like that for several long moments, and then Dean rolled reluctantly off Sam, and onto his back beside him. For a few minutes, there was no sound except their breathing as they tried to pull themselves back together, and then Dean propped himself up on one arm and looked down at Sam.

"So," he said, "What did you think?"

Sam opened his eyes and grinned up at Dean, and the happiness in them took Dean's breath away again, just as he was getting it under control.

"When can we do it again?" he asked.

*********

So...what did you think? I'd love feedback on these - they were all done a lot quicker and easier than I usually find writing, and some of them are a bit different to my usual style, so please, please tell me honestly what you think.

I'm thinking of posting Bamtrip and Broken Men on a couple of wincest comms, so please let me know if you think I should, or if I should change something before I do.

Thanks!

Current Mood: contemplative

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Oh!! Bamtrip is my favorite!! So CUTE and sweet!!! They're all so great! Yay!! :)

From:

The Sinners Have Much More Fun

Fic!dump of DOOM!

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