Bakery Blasphemy
Summary: Finally getting a lead on a case after two days, you and the boys set out to see what information this strange woman might have. Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester, Agnes (OFC), Delilah (OFC) Word Count: 2459 Warnings: Sexuality, language, unsanitary things, rude old lady, implied smut A/N: This is for @winchesterprincessbride “Jen Said What?” Challenge! My prompt was hilarious to write and is in bold in the fic. I’m glad to be back writing again and I appreciate you guys sticking with me while I’m recovering from my surgery. This was beta’d by @saxxology, gif made by me. Enjoy!
“Come on, Sam, your hair looks perfect,” you grumbled from the motel bed. “Dean’s already out in the car.”
“I’m not doing my hair, Y/N,” Sam’s muffled reply sounded from behind the closed door.
“Then what the hell is taking you so long?” Sitting up, you glare at the bathroom door as if Sam could feel your icy stare through the wood. “Are you staring longingly at your reflection in the mirror?”
He snorted. “No.”
You paused for a moment, then smiled. “Are you touching yourself?”
“No,” he laughed. “You’d be able to hear me if I was. You know I’m not exactly quiet.”
A delicious shiver worked its way through your body at the thought of Sam touching himself, and you bit your lip to keep quiet. Even if Sam was doing any if those things, you were going to be late for your meeting with the first suspect you’d had on this case since you rolled into town two days ago.
“Baby,” you whined, “come on. We need to go. The drive is like twenty minutes and we’re meeting her in ten. Don’t make me pick the lock on the bathroom and drag you out to the car.”
The bathroom door opened in a whoosh of air, startling you slightly. Sam emerged, looking delicious in his navy blue suit, and raised a brow at you.
“I’d like to see you try to drag me anywhere. You know I’m stronger than you and bigger.” He pecked your lips with his own before wrapping his arms around you and turning you so your back was pressed against his front. “Remember last night?” He gestured to the front door of the motel room where, just twelve hours ago, Sam was holding you up against it and viciously fucking into you, whispering dirty things in your ear until you came apart in his arms.
“Yeah,” you whimpered quietly as your mind flooded with the memory of Sam fucking you.
Sam pressed a kiss to your temple and removed his arms from around you, steadying you as you swayed in your spot. “Come on, let’s get going.”
It took several long seconds before your body responded to any commands your brain was making, and Sam was already out the door. Quickly grabbing your coat, you followed after him, and made it outside right as he was sliding into the passenger’s seat of the Impala. Dean was in the driver’s seat, impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, and you smiled sheepishly at him before you made your way around the car and slipped into the spot behind Sam in the back.
“What the hell took you two so long?” Dean questioned, putting the car in reverse and gunning it out of the motel parking lot.
“I don’t know, ask Sam,” you replied, meeting eyes with Dean in the rear view mirror and sticking your tongue out.
Dean glanced at his brother, who only shrugged. “I was sewing up a part of my suit jacket. It ripped when I was putting it on.”
“Sammy the seamstress,” Dean chided, earning a patented bitchface from Sam. “Does that mean you’ll sew my clothes, too?”
“Have you seen Sam’s stitches, Dean? I don’t think I’d want him sewing anything, let alone my clothes,” you sassed from the back seat, earning a deep chuckle from Dean. Sam turned around in his seat and glared at you, betrayal in his eyes.
You were definitely going to pay for that.
Thankfully, Dean clicked the radio and dissolved the tension with some horribly off-key karaoke to AC/DC for the rest of the ride to this woman’s shop.
Several unexplained and bloody deaths in town drew the three of you there to begin with, and after coming up empty on every lead, you were desperate. When this woman, Agnes Stull, reached out and said she might have some information, you all but jumped at it. Dean was cautious about her, Sam was optimistic, and you were the glue that held the Winchesters together.
After a quick drive across town, Dean parked the Impala on the side of the road in front of an old bakery; apparently Agnes was the owner and preferred the three of you come to her job instead of her home. When you exited the car, you rolled your eyes at the deep exaggerated inhale that came from Dean.
“Mmm, I smell pie,” he smiled, licking his lips.
“Dean, we’re here to work, not eat,” Sam scolded, checking his watch. “Come on, we’re five minutes late.”
“And whose fault is that, Sammy?” Dean retorted.
Sam ignored his reply and you smiled at Dean, appreciating the wildly entertaining brotherly sass that was common between them. Following Sam, all three of you walked into the door of the bakery, a small bell hanging from the door hinge ringing to signal your entrance. The smell of pastries and freshly baked bread made you close your eyes and smile, and you caught Dean doing the same out of the corner of your eye.
“How can I help you?” a cheerful voice chirped from behind the counter, making you open your eyes.
“Hi there, we’re looking for Agnes?” Sam replied, flashing his badge. “We’re the FBI agents she requested to speak with.”
“Oh, I’m Delilah. Agnes is in the back, go through those doors over there,” she pointed to a set of double doors across the shop on the opposite wall, “and you’ll find her.”
Nodding your thanks, you followed the boys as they walked over and stepped through the doors. Like Delilah had said, Agnes was sitting on a metal stool in front of a counter, kneading a ball of dough. She looked to be in her late seventies or early eighties, and she glanced up at you when you stepped inside.
“You the suits that were nosing around?” she grunted, voice deep and scratchy.
“Yes we are, ma’am,” Dean confirmed, flashing her a smile.
Agnes grunted and landed a hard punch to the middle of the dough sitting in front of her. “Don’t smile at me like that. It makes you look slow, boy.”
Right when Dean was about to counter her feigned insult, Agnes reared her head back and sneezed… directly onto the dough that was scattered across the table. She looked up at Dean and wiped a sleeve under her nose, raising an eyebrow at him as she continued to knead.
Dean’s grin instantly disappeared and he opened his mouth in a silent horrified scream. Thankfully, Sam was there to step in for his speechless brother. “So, what information did you have for us?”
“The last kid that bit it,” she waved her hand around, “whatever his name was. He used to work here as a cleaner. You know, dishes, sweeping, mopping… that shit.”
“Okay…” Sam said slowly.
“Don’t sass me, Redwood,” Agnes snapped, making Sam’s head jerk back in surprise. “I was just gonna let you know that back when he worked here, he ran with a bad crowd. Gangs, drugs, all of that bullshit. So his death might be related to that.”
Sam was still stunned to silence, just like Dean, so you stepped forward. “Thank you Agnes, but there are three victims that match the M.O. and there were no commonalities between the victims, and that includes gang affiliation. That, and most gangs opt for executions… these victims were… well, they were brutally slaughtered.”
Your skill as a hunter was second to your skills at reading body language, and you didn’t miss the small twitch of a smile on Agnes’ mouth after you finished speaking. Before you even had a chance to warn the Winchesters, Agnes stood up and reached into her mouth, pulling her dentures free. Dean was frozen in his spot as she reached out and plopped her slobber-coated dentures right into his palm.
It took a few long seconds for Dean’s brain to catch up with the action, and he immediately flailed, throwing the dentures in the air while gagging, frantically wiping his hand on his pant leg. “What the fuck?!”
Agnes faced you and snarled, several sets of sharp fangs protruding from her gums, making all three of you draw your guns. “God damn hunters, why can’t you just take a lead and fuck off?”
“Not a vampire,” you whispered, clicking the hammer back on your pistol.
“I’m a Manticore, fuck nuggets. I was enjoying retirement, but mama got hungry,” she said, patting her stomach with blue tinted claws jutting from the end of black fingertips. “That, and who knew blood added to cherry pie tasted so good.”
“Bitch!” Dean gasped, cocking his gun and pulling the trigger.
All three of you unloaded each of your clips into the monster. Dean had witch killing bullets, Sam had holy oil bullets, and you had the standard silver. It wasn’t intentional to have different ammo, but you hoped at least one of the special kinds of ammunition would kill a Manticore.
The Manticore hissed and growled, lunging at you while you fired, but one of the ammo types appeared to be working and she crumpled to the ground a few feet shy of you. You and Sam stopped firing when she hit the ground, but Dean fired two more shots into her corpse, a double tap to the head.
“Dean, she’s dead,” you said, holding out your hand.
He went to fire again, but his gun clicked and he growled, spinning to face you. “That lady handed me her false teeth, right out of her mouth!” He shuddered and made a noise of disgust. “And let’s not forget her sneezing on stuff… or what she did to the sanctity of cherry pie!”
Sam rolled his eyes and you laughed, making Dean huff in annoyance right when the door behind you burst open, revealing a wide-eyed Delilah.
“Agnes?!”
Sam stepped in front of her, holding out a palm to stop her from advancing further into the room. “Sorry, Delilah. Agnes killed those three people in town. She… she poisoned them with some kind of psychedelic drug that thinned their blood while making them brutally kill themselves. She tried to kill us and we had no choice.”
Delilah pressed a hand against her mouth as tears welled in her eyes. “Oh no. She… she killed those people? Why?”
“We don’t know, possibly dementia? She confessed to the killings right before she lunged at us with a knife,” you said, tucking your gun into the waistband in the back of your pants.
“She was a mean old lady,” Delilah whispered. “I guess life finally caught up with her.” She looked up and her eyes darted around. “What should I do now?”
“We’re going to take care of her. You own the shop from this point on, just make sure you throw out everything you have in the store right now,” Dean commanded, pointing a finger at her. “Especially any cherry pie.”
“Shouldn’t I call the police?” Delilah asked, mindlessly depositing the blood spray covered dough balls into the trash can.
“We work for a special part of the FBI, and this is not the first time Agnes has done this. She was a dangerous serial killer. It’s better for everyone if she just disappears, okay?” Sam placed a hand on Delilah’s shoulders and met her eyes. “We’ll help you clean up.”
“We will?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, we will,” Sam confirmed through gritted teeth.
With four people, the shop only took about an hour to clean up. All the pastries were thrown out and the blood was cleaned up from the back room. While Sam and Dean were moving Agnes’ body to the back if the Impala to burn somewhere far away from here, you helped Delilah sort the ownership papers and other documents in the small office inside the store. Luckily, Delilah had part ownership in the business so there was no paperwork that had to be forged. You told her to report Agnes missing in a few days, just to cover herself.
Once the Winchesters came back inside and said goodbye to Delilah, you all climbed back into the Impala and after a pit stop to some random forest about forty miles outside of town, you drove back to the motel. First one through the door, you immediately shuffled to yours and Sam’s bed and flopped down on your stomach.
“I’m gonna head out and try to forget what that crazy bitch did by drinking my body weight in whiskey. Anyone want to join?” Dean announced, grabbing his jacket.
“Nah, I’m beat, thanks though,” you said through a yawn. “If you come back with a bar skank, get another room, will ya?”
“What do you think the back seat of the Impala is for, Y/N?” Dean said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.
“Huh. I thought it was just for me and Sam,” you sassed, laughing at the disgusted grunt from Dean.
“You two better not be -”
“Dean, relax. She’s kidding,” Sam interrupted. “Have fun at the bar. I’m wiped out and I’m gonna sleep, too.”
“Whatever,” Dean grumbled, exiting the motel room door, letting it slam behind him.
Once the Impala roared to life and disappeared from the parking lot, Sam slid into your bed and gathered you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips. You sat in a comfortable silence, taking deep breaths of Sam’s familiar scent while his warmth radiated into your body.
“So, I may have snuck into one of the shops near the bakery before we left,” Sam admitted, making you pull back and look up at him.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I got some of those novelty chattering teeth. Was gonna leave them in his bed,” Sam grinned.
Throwing your head back, you laughed so hard you snorted, making Sam laugh even harder, too. “You’re so bad. He’s gonna kill you,” you said between fits of giggles.
“Yeah, maybe. But you love when I’m bad,” he purred, pulling you against him again, grinding his hips forward and pressing his bulge against you.
“Yeah, I do,” you whispered back, but it was cut off by a squeal when Sam moved, shifting you so you were under him and he was hovering over you, braced on his elbows.
Sam captured your lips in a kiss, and the entire hunt dissolved into a foggy memory as he rutted against you, making your entire body tingle with what you knew was to come.
“Don’t think I forgot about your comment about my stitches. You’re gonna pay for that,” Sam murmured, nipping at the skin on your neck.
“Mmm,” you hummed, “I can’t wait.”
Forevers [CLOSED]: @katymacsupernatural @queen-of-deans-booty @your-modern-shakespeare @wheresthekillswitch @holyfuckloueh @just-another-busy-fangirl @growningupgeek @trashimaginezblog @jensen-gal @spnbaby-67 @mizzezm @there-must-be-a-lock @atc74 @pilaxia @supernatural-jackles @impala-dreamer @bambi95-blog @wonderfulworldofwinchester @batmmgray @brooke-supernatural16 @dwgrl1903 @hey-bxtch @turnttoverr @kittenofdoomage @leanbeankeane @emoryhemsworth @xalgaliareptx @mhnfatima @bi-e-ne @speakinvain @pebblesz892 @kararanae23 @kassablanca13 @mogaruke @tockettt @imagining-supernatural @wildefire @serienjunkiegirl @alexwinchester23 @mrswhozeewhatsis @stars-and-seas @jaremish @ellen-reincarnated1967 @nyxveracity @andkatiethings @bamby0304 @deathtonormalcy56 @winchesterprincessbride @moonstar86 @missihart23 @mrs-meghan-winchester @miss-rebel-without-applause @dean-winchesters-bacon @curly-haired-disaster
Sam: @ronja-uebrick @hunterswearingplaid @focusonspn
