Daydreams and Nightmares
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Supernatural › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
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1
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
Supernatural › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,877
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Supernatural, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Daydreams and Nightmares
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Slash, incest.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I do not own the characters or their world, they belong to Eric Kripke, and I am just borrowing them. I make no money from this, and promise to wash them both down afterwards with soapy water.
Summary: Dean is in trouble, and only Bobby can help him. But what about Sam?
Author's Note: This is a fun experiment. Reviews of this story will be gratefully received, and perhaps encourage my partner in crime to write some as well. Trust me when I say you want to see that. So if you enjoy this, leave a word or two and ask for Esteliel to continue... ~ pippychick
Daydreams and Nightmares
Part One
It was Sam, and it didn't matter. Actually, the details were kind of fuzzy, but that didn't matter either. Some things were all too obvious. Hard, urgent, hurting – all those things that had come to symbolise their being together. Strange really, because Dean's life had been full of those things before he caught up with Sam again after their Dad disappeared, and yet they were inextricable now. He hurt, he thought of Sam.
This was different but somehow the same, and he wouldn't have expected anything less. Was that a bite on his chin? No soft kisses here, no tender touching or gentle yearning. This was a war they were involved in, no matter that it seemed to be with each other. Weren't they always at war?
Sam made him want to be violent, and he could be. Sam wouldn't break no matter what Dean wanted and needed. He gave as good as he got, in fact, and it was so primal and absolutely right that it didn't seem strange it was Sam at all. It was the most natural thing in the world... until of course he woke up.
Dean groaned and stretched out a little, feeling his erection press against something hard and unyielding. He opened his eyes. Sam lay there, eyes closed, and Dean realised he was hard and aching against his brother's leg. The natural feeling of his dream deserted him and he swallowed hard because for a moment he didn't know whether to move away or hold Sam down to the bed and...
“Back off, jerk.” Sam said that with his eyes still closed, and Dean swallowed again, realising Sam was awake and moving away from him so suddenly that an expletive came to his lips before he could stop and think.
“Bitch,” he added, as if just to prove to himself that he could in fact make this worse.
The ceiling was still, so that meant he hadn't been drunk. Dean lifted an eyebrow. Added to all the aching muscles and unresolved sexual tension it led to one conclusion: that they had been fighting demons last night.
“Hey, are you trying to be funny?” Sam asked pointedly, resentment flowing over Dean like a blanket. He smiled and closed his eyes.
“You know I don't have to try.”
“Whatever,” Sam said, and Dean could see the look on his face as clearly as if he was watching. “Look, I'm going in the shower.” Dean opened one eye at that.
“One hell of a Freudian slip you got there, bro,” he pointed out, wanting to make light of it. Sam rolled his eyes again.
“Yeah, right. You're disgusting. Why don't you do something about it while I'm gone?”
The inference was clear, and usually, Sam calling him disgusting was a way to prove it, but Dean found himself swallowing again. The dream had left a bad taste in his mouth, and the further awake he became, the more revulsion he felt. He stayed silent, and he saw Sam hesitate from the corner of his eye.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Dean said softly. “Bad dream. Go on and get clean. I'm cool.” He made eye contact at the last comment, as if daring Sam to deny it, and saw Sam glance briefly down his body where the bedclothes stuck up a little. Dean pretended he hadn't noticed.
“Right,” Sam said, clearly disbelieving. “I don't want to know.”
“No,” Dean agreed, managing to feel a little embarrassed as he turned onto his side to hide his arousal. The revulsion hadn't made it go away, and he was desperate to finish it so that he could start the day over again. Sam walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and Dean sighed heavily. Another one of those damn dreams. They were driving him mad.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back in the car again, running on to the next place already while the sun was still thinking about peeking over the distant horizon. They hadn't slept for long enough to feel relaxed, and yet Dean welcomed that. The day he felt content would probably be the day he was unguarded enough to die. He moved the gear lever to set off as Sam sat silent and morbid beside him.
“So where we headed?” Sam asked, staring out of the wind shield at the world before them as if he didn't care and it didn't matter. Dean always noticed, and still he never said anything. They had several good leads. How could they not, when they themselves had let a plague of demons free to roam around? But he considered his options as he let the car take them out of the car park. The gravel crackled noisily under the tyres, and Dean gunned the engine to shut it out because it accentuated the silence in the car between them.
“I think we should check in with Bobby,” Dean said at last, confidently. There was the same silence, and he risked looking away from the road to check on Sam. How did he hide so much? Inwardly Dean sighed and turned his attention to the road again.
“Yeah. All right.”
Dean almost slammed on the brakes. “What? No argument?” He looked to the side again and saw Sam smile in that tired way that meant he was considering something.
“Do you want a fight, Dean? There's always those strange deaths in at least four towns close to here that we could be investigating.”
There was a slight smile on his lips, and Dean had to struggle because he really couldn't resist the challenge. Damn, but Sam irritated him sometimes! And though he needed to see Bobby urgently, he couldn't quite allow his little brother to win. Allow this and who knew where it would end up? He was quiet a moment longer than usual, and he stared resolutely at the road when he sensed Sam looking at him.
All he had to do was say he didn't want a fight. That was all. Sam would go with him to Bobby's. Maybe he would be lucky enough that Sam wouldn't even ask why. But it was the admittance. Dean just couldn't do it. Not even for this. Not even for his own peace of mind.
“Bobby might have something bigger for us if he's been watching. Something that it will take more than just him to handle.” As arguments went, there had been worse, but there was a perfect rejoinder to that in that they had Bobby's phone number. What was more, Bobby knew theirs as well. Dean waited for it, aware that he would still argue without conceding his reasons if Sam insisted on it.
Sam didn't mention it, and Dean found that so odd he couldn't help himself after about five minutes. “So,” he said, “what do you want to see Bobby for?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It took most of the day to reach Bobby's place, and they had spent every moment of the journey in complete agreement as to their destination, and arguing with each other about why it was. Dean was surprised since he hadn't managed to even glean the reason Sam wanted to see Bobby. Unless... he gulped. He hadn't been speaking in his sleep, had he? Come to think of it, why hadn't Sam woke him this morning?
Dean threw a haunted, guilty look at Sam but fortunately his brother wasn't watching, and so he didn't notice the slip. For a moment as Sam left him alone in the car, Dean's mind entertained him by showing him asleep and writhing, moaning Sam's name while his brother watched him in that impassive way. That idea filled him with shame and embarrassment, and yet he couldn't help feeling aroused as well. This really was too far! Dean killed the engine and got out of the car, looking forward to seeing Bobby. Sam had already made his way to the door, and Dean checked his handgun before following his brother.
They took the customary drink of holy water at the door – it didn't make him feel any healthier, and not for the first time Dean wondered if there was indeed anyone on their side. He could be a great hero for a cause. As it was he and Sam were both more like renegades, on the run from their past, from hell and from the law. It didn't seem right. What was good? And did it have anything to do with them?
They talked to Bobby for what remained of the evening as the sky darkened, and nothing was said of importance. It got late enough to drink something besides holy water, and Dean waited, surprised that Sam hadn't gone to bed already. Still, he didn't mind. Bobby was here, and as soon as there was a chance, he would ask the question he needed to ask most.
Bobby himself was yawning and Dean was feeling somewhat devil-may-care by the time Sam left them. Strange, but not worth mentioning now he had Bobby to himself.
“There's something I need to ask you, Bobby,” Dean said soberly as soon as Sam was out of the door and earshot. Bobby just looked at him. “What do you know about incubus demons?”
Bobby just stared, eyes slightly unfocused after the amount of whiskey he had consumed. He appeared to consider his words carefully before speaking. “You know, Dean, Sam phoned me earlier to let me know you were on your way. I think it was a truck stop or something.”
Sam had phoned ahead? Why hadn't he thought of that? And suddenly the idea returned to Dean that Sam had been just too easy to get here. Lots of arguing, but no protest.
“Only reason I mention this, is that he asked me about something during that call. And I left everything I possess on the subject of incubus demons in his room for him to read through.” Dean sat back in shock. Was Sam aware of what was going on and trying to help him? Why hadn't he said that he knew? And then it occurred to him why, and he made an inarticulate sound of shock.
Bobby sighed. “You're keeping it secret from each other for some reason,” he said, and then sort of jumped in his seat. “You know, I really haven't had enough to drink.”
“Me neither,” Dean said softly, understanding why Sam hadn't told him. It was for the same reason he hadn't told Sam. And the answer was Bobby's whiskey...
To be continued...
Author's Note: Thank you for reading – I hope you're enjoying it. Remember to ask for Esteliel to continue! *g*
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Slash, incest.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I do not own the characters or their world, they belong to Eric Kripke, and I am just borrowing them. I make no money from this, and promise to wash them both down afterwards with soapy water.
Summary: Dean is in trouble, and only Bobby can help him. But what about Sam?
Author's Note: This is a fun experiment. Reviews of this story will be gratefully received, and perhaps encourage my partner in crime to write some as well. Trust me when I say you want to see that. So if you enjoy this, leave a word or two and ask for Esteliel to continue... ~ pippychick
Part One
It was Sam, and it didn't matter. Actually, the details were kind of fuzzy, but that didn't matter either. Some things were all too obvious. Hard, urgent, hurting – all those things that had come to symbolise their being together. Strange really, because Dean's life had been full of those things before he caught up with Sam again after their Dad disappeared, and yet they were inextricable now. He hurt, he thought of Sam.
This was different but somehow the same, and he wouldn't have expected anything less. Was that a bite on his chin? No soft kisses here, no tender touching or gentle yearning. This was a war they were involved in, no matter that it seemed to be with each other. Weren't they always at war?
Sam made him want to be violent, and he could be. Sam wouldn't break no matter what Dean wanted and needed. He gave as good as he got, in fact, and it was so primal and absolutely right that it didn't seem strange it was Sam at all. It was the most natural thing in the world... until of course he woke up.
Dean groaned and stretched out a little, feeling his erection press against something hard and unyielding. He opened his eyes. Sam lay there, eyes closed, and Dean realised he was hard and aching against his brother's leg. The natural feeling of his dream deserted him and he swallowed hard because for a moment he didn't know whether to move away or hold Sam down to the bed and...
“Back off, jerk.” Sam said that with his eyes still closed, and Dean swallowed again, realising Sam was awake and moving away from him so suddenly that an expletive came to his lips before he could stop and think.
“Bitch,” he added, as if just to prove to himself that he could in fact make this worse.
The ceiling was still, so that meant he hadn't been drunk. Dean lifted an eyebrow. Added to all the aching muscles and unresolved sexual tension it led to one conclusion: that they had been fighting demons last night.
“Hey, are you trying to be funny?” Sam asked pointedly, resentment flowing over Dean like a blanket. He smiled and closed his eyes.
“You know I don't have to try.”
“Whatever,” Sam said, and Dean could see the look on his face as clearly as if he was watching. “Look, I'm going in the shower.” Dean opened one eye at that.
“One hell of a Freudian slip you got there, bro,” he pointed out, wanting to make light of it. Sam rolled his eyes again.
“Yeah, right. You're disgusting. Why don't you do something about it while I'm gone?”
The inference was clear, and usually, Sam calling him disgusting was a way to prove it, but Dean found himself swallowing again. The dream had left a bad taste in his mouth, and the further awake he became, the more revulsion he felt. He stayed silent, and he saw Sam hesitate from the corner of his eye.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Dean said softly. “Bad dream. Go on and get clean. I'm cool.” He made eye contact at the last comment, as if daring Sam to deny it, and saw Sam glance briefly down his body where the bedclothes stuck up a little. Dean pretended he hadn't noticed.
“Right,” Sam said, clearly disbelieving. “I don't want to know.”
“No,” Dean agreed, managing to feel a little embarrassed as he turned onto his side to hide his arousal. The revulsion hadn't made it go away, and he was desperate to finish it so that he could start the day over again. Sam walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him, and Dean sighed heavily. Another one of those damn dreams. They were driving him mad.
Back in the car again, running on to the next place already while the sun was still thinking about peeking over the distant horizon. They hadn't slept for long enough to feel relaxed, and yet Dean welcomed that. The day he felt content would probably be the day he was unguarded enough to die. He moved the gear lever to set off as Sam sat silent and morbid beside him.
“So where we headed?” Sam asked, staring out of the wind shield at the world before them as if he didn't care and it didn't matter. Dean always noticed, and still he never said anything. They had several good leads. How could they not, when they themselves had let a plague of demons free to roam around? But he considered his options as he let the car take them out of the car park. The gravel crackled noisily under the tyres, and Dean gunned the engine to shut it out because it accentuated the silence in the car between them.
“I think we should check in with Bobby,” Dean said at last, confidently. There was the same silence, and he risked looking away from the road to check on Sam. How did he hide so much? Inwardly Dean sighed and turned his attention to the road again.
“Yeah. All right.”
Dean almost slammed on the brakes. “What? No argument?” He looked to the side again and saw Sam smile in that tired way that meant he was considering something.
“Do you want a fight, Dean? There's always those strange deaths in at least four towns close to here that we could be investigating.”
There was a slight smile on his lips, and Dean had to struggle because he really couldn't resist the challenge. Damn, but Sam irritated him sometimes! And though he needed to see Bobby urgently, he couldn't quite allow his little brother to win. Allow this and who knew where it would end up? He was quiet a moment longer than usual, and he stared resolutely at the road when he sensed Sam looking at him.
All he had to do was say he didn't want a fight. That was all. Sam would go with him to Bobby's. Maybe he would be lucky enough that Sam wouldn't even ask why. But it was the admittance. Dean just couldn't do it. Not even for this. Not even for his own peace of mind.
“Bobby might have something bigger for us if he's been watching. Something that it will take more than just him to handle.” As arguments went, there had been worse, but there was a perfect rejoinder to that in that they had Bobby's phone number. What was more, Bobby knew theirs as well. Dean waited for it, aware that he would still argue without conceding his reasons if Sam insisted on it.
Sam didn't mention it, and Dean found that so odd he couldn't help himself after about five minutes. “So,” he said, “what do you want to see Bobby for?”
It took most of the day to reach Bobby's place, and they had spent every moment of the journey in complete agreement as to their destination, and arguing with each other about why it was. Dean was surprised since he hadn't managed to even glean the reason Sam wanted to see Bobby. Unless... he gulped. He hadn't been speaking in his sleep, had he? Come to think of it, why hadn't Sam woke him this morning?
Dean threw a haunted, guilty look at Sam but fortunately his brother wasn't watching, and so he didn't notice the slip. For a moment as Sam left him alone in the car, Dean's mind entertained him by showing him asleep and writhing, moaning Sam's name while his brother watched him in that impassive way. That idea filled him with shame and embarrassment, and yet he couldn't help feeling aroused as well. This really was too far! Dean killed the engine and got out of the car, looking forward to seeing Bobby. Sam had already made his way to the door, and Dean checked his handgun before following his brother.
They took the customary drink of holy water at the door – it didn't make him feel any healthier, and not for the first time Dean wondered if there was indeed anyone on their side. He could be a great hero for a cause. As it was he and Sam were both more like renegades, on the run from their past, from hell and from the law. It didn't seem right. What was good? And did it have anything to do with them?
They talked to Bobby for what remained of the evening as the sky darkened, and nothing was said of importance. It got late enough to drink something besides holy water, and Dean waited, surprised that Sam hadn't gone to bed already. Still, he didn't mind. Bobby was here, and as soon as there was a chance, he would ask the question he needed to ask most.
Bobby himself was yawning and Dean was feeling somewhat devil-may-care by the time Sam left them. Strange, but not worth mentioning now he had Bobby to himself.
“There's something I need to ask you, Bobby,” Dean said soberly as soon as Sam was out of the door and earshot. Bobby just looked at him. “What do you know about incubus demons?”
Bobby just stared, eyes slightly unfocused after the amount of whiskey he had consumed. He appeared to consider his words carefully before speaking. “You know, Dean, Sam phoned me earlier to let me know you were on your way. I think it was a truck stop or something.”
Sam had phoned ahead? Why hadn't he thought of that? And suddenly the idea returned to Dean that Sam had been just too easy to get here. Lots of arguing, but no protest.
“Only reason I mention this, is that he asked me about something during that call. And I left everything I possess on the subject of incubus demons in his room for him to read through.” Dean sat back in shock. Was Sam aware of what was going on and trying to help him? Why hadn't he said that he knew? And then it occurred to him why, and he made an inarticulate sound of shock.
Bobby sighed. “You're keeping it secret from each other for some reason,” he said, and then sort of jumped in his seat. “You know, I really haven't had enough to drink.”
“Me neither,” Dean said softly, understanding why Sam hadn't told him. It was for the same reason he hadn't told Sam. And the answer was Bobby's whiskey...
To be continued...
Author's Note: Thank you for reading – I hope you're enjoying it. Remember to ask for Esteliel to continue! *g*