Warnings: Descriptions of violence, mild sexual content, language
Additional Tags: mostly comedy with a few more serious moments, relationship reveal
Summary:
Sam and Dean Winchester have done a remarkable job of keeping their relationships with things they should probably be hunting a secret from each other. That is, until now.
Read it on Ao3 here
Sam never thought he’d live to say it, but he should probably be more grateful his brother is alive.
In a grander sense, he’s thrilled. He would have given everything for this in a heartbeat. Hell, he tried to give everything for this. All he wishes is that there was a way around the guilt.
It had become white noise when Dean was in the pit, horrible and endless, but it could be drowned out. He could convince himself that Dean would have wanted this if he could have seen the whole picture. Now it comes in waves. One moment he’s fine, the next he can barely keep his head above the water.
Sam is lacing his boots, trying to be as silent as possible when it hits him tonight. Dean willingly went to an eternity of torture for Sam’s sake, and Sam couldn’t even honour his dying wish. It’s harder to justify with his brother sleeping curled on his stomach a few feet away. Harder to ignore.
It’s ridiculous, shoving pillows under his quilt like some teenager sneaking out the back door with a bottle of Jack, but if he can’t keep his promise, at least he can try to keep Dean from worrying.
He quietly drops the impala’s keys into his pocket, and slips out into the night.
…
It’s hellhounds that wake Dean tonight, tearing at his chest and leaving shredded ribbons of flesh. He can’t move. Can’t fight or even look down. He just lays there, feeling the wet warmth of blood soaking into his clothes, catching glimpses of enormous slobbering heads, gasping for the breath that barely makes its way into his lungs.
He bolts upright, only making it halfway to the knife beneath his pillow before his brain lurches into the dark and empty motel room a few seconds after the rest of his body. He goes for fistfuls of his hair instead, tugging until it hurts and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. His jaw aches, teeth having been clenched for far too long.
It’s another stupid fucking nightmare. That’s all it is. Dean just needs to fight through the relentless exhaustion still weighing him down and get his feet on the floor. Get some water or just stretch and try to reset his brain for any chance at a few hours of good sleep. But there’s a dog howling in the room next door and his eyes are so sticky with tears they almost burn and he can’t make his legs listen to his brain and kick off the covers.
“Shit.”
He doesn’t notice the telltale flutter of feathers, just the sudden steady pressure of Cas’ hand on his shoulder. Dean startles hard, sucking in a breath as he whips around.
“Cas.” A tiny bit of the tension drains from Dean’s body. “Did I,” he clears his throat, reaching for some dignity. “Did I call for you again?”
Cas smiles softly, setting a hand on Dean’s sternum, easing the crushing of his lungs, brushes knuckles against Dean’s jaw and saps out the tension. Maybe it’s a waste of his grace, but Cas always refuses to hear it.
“In a way. I sensed your longing.”
It sounds fucking pathetic, but Dean can’t bring himself to care. He’s too tired for the usual embarrassment that would come with grabbing fistfuls of Cas’s coat with trembling hands, and tugging him lightly toward the bed. Cas doesn’t need convincing.
Cas runs a hand through Dean’s hair and presses a kiss to the top of his head. He pulls back just long enough to drop his overcoat to the floor and kick off his shoes. Dean barely has time to register the loss of contact before Cas is straightening out the sheets, easing him out of his sweat soaked overshirt and jeans. He climbs under the covers and tangles his legs with Dean’s as easily as if it was breathing. Like they’re meant to hold each other this way. He pulls Dean tight to his chest, kneading his fingers into the tension in Dean’s shoulder blades, and Dean melts into him.
The battle against the bone-deep exhaustion dragging Dean back toward sleep is quickly becoming uphill. He presses his face into the fabric of Cas’ shirt.
“It’s alright, Dean. Rest. I have you.”
And Dean gives up the fight.
…
Maybe it’s hard-wired into demons for the sake of all their contracts, or maybe Ruby really wants to see what will happen next, but Sam doubts her constant punctuality is a courtesy.
She’s waiting on the corner of Oak and 19th when Sam pulls up, exactly where she said she’d be, jacket pulled tight across her chest to fend off the night chill.
Sam opens the door and she slides into the passenger seat.
“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”
Sam keeps his eyes on the dash. “Yeah. Well, I’m here now.”
Ruby catches his arm on its way to the ignition, finally managing to meet his eyes, her tone more gentle.
“You can’t listen to him, Sam. You’re stronger than your brother. He wouldn’t understand. He’d ruin everything we’ve worked for. It’s too important. We can’t let him get in the way.”
Sam sighs deeply. “I know.”
“You’re doing the right thing, Sam. This is the only way.”
“I know.”
Ruby relaxes her grip on Sam, easing back into the passenger seat as if nothing had happened.
“I would kill for some French fries. We can go to that restaurant and try to pick up Lilith’s trail. We’ll have to make sure you’re strong enough for tonight…”
She slips out her pocket knife, casually drawing the flat edge across her bicep, like a fidget instead of the open invitation Sam knows it is.
“…help you unwind.”
Sam steps on the gas.
…
Dean doesn’t sleep for more than an hour, waking up with Cas still relaxed beside him, eyes closed. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d think the angel was asleep. One big hand is splayed over Dean’s hip, thumb dipping just below the waistband of his worn boxers.
It’s driving Dean crazy.
It would be so easy to shift Cas’ hand to where he needs it. He’d just have to roll over. Maybe it would seem too desperate, but, fuck, Dean is desperate. It’s been weeks since they’ve had time for this and he’s passed one too many long drives thinking about Cas’ mouth on him.
Instead, he scoots closer, untucking Cas’s shirt to get to warm skin and toned abs. He presses a kiss into Cas’s collar bone, his neck, the underside of his jaw before finally pulling back to see his face. Cas’ eyes are open, pupils blown wide as he watches Dean. The grip on Dean’s hip tightens.
In one fluid movement, Dean repositions to kiss Cas more solidly, just about blacking out for a second when Cas matches his enthusiasm.
“Want you,” Cas gasps out between kisses.
His voice alone is almost enough for Dean. He closes his eyes again, trying to compose himself. “Yeah. Yeah, alright baby. Hold on.”
Cas frowns when Dean pulls back, obviously confused, until Dean props himself up and rolls to straddle Cas’ hips. It’s a process to get his shirt unbuttoned and off, Dean still kissing him like the world is ending much faster than it is, and Cas no more eager to pull away.
Dean finally sits back into Cas’ lap, taking a moment to catch his breath. He trails a hand down Cas’ chest, making him shiver.
“Fuck, sweetheart, look at you.” Dean loves seeing Cas like this, his face so open and happy. And because of Dean. It’s hard to wrap his head around. Dean traces along the smile forming on Cas’ lips, beaming when Cas presses a kiss into the pad of his thumb. He could get used to this.
Dean is leaning down to kiss him again when he loses his balance. He doesn’t fully understand what’s happening until his back hits the mattress, hands gently pinned above his head. It might be the hottest thing Dean has ever experienced. He barely stifles a moan as Cas shifts his weight on top of him.
At that exact moment, Dean remembers his brother, still tucked under his quilt in the adjacent bed.
“We should take this somewhere else.”
Cas nods, a strand of already disheveled hair falling into his face, and then Dean’s back hits the familiar cold leather of the impala’s back seat.
Arms unpinned, he sets to work on Cas’ belt, finally letting out the soft moan that’s been building at the back of his throat.
“Cas? DEAN!?” Dean doesn’t need to look to recognize Sam’s voice coming from the driver’s seat. “What the hell!”
…
Like so many other cars, the impala has a big, slightly scratchy blanket that lives in the back seat. The only difference is that this one has been replaced a good dozen times when there was too much blood to just wash out. The current car blanket is an almost new, grey number, which is, as it turns out, just big enough to wrap Dean in his relative state of undress like a very angry burrito.
He sits in the backseat, scowling at Sam through the rearview mirror. To Sam’s right, Ruby is looking only slightly less unimpressed.
Sam tries to enjoy the last few seconds of silence.
Ten…nine…eight…
“So it’s not bad enough to work with a demon, now you’re sleeping with her too?”
“Dean…”
“Don’t ‘Dean’ me! What the hell do you think you’re doing, man? How long have you been…been fraternizing with the enemy!”
Sam is living proof that no matter how hard you roll your eyes, they won’t get stuck.
“She’s not ‘the enemy’, and you don’t have much of a leg to stand on here, Dean. Do you really think it’s a good idea to get dicked down by an angel?”
Dean opens his mouth like there’s actually an excuse he could use here. No words come out. He pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Never say ‘dicked down’ to me again.”
Sam’s gained a bit of ground, and he refuses to lose it now.
He finally adjusts the mirror to get a good look at Castiel. He sits next to Dean, all shirtless and messy haired, but somehow the same stoic warrior Sam has always known save for the way he stares out the window like if he’s still enough they’ll forget he’s there.
It doesn’t take Dean long to deflect. “How long has this been going on behind my back?”
“You were dead, Dean! There wasn’t exactly a back to go behind.”
Ruby, who had apparently decided to let the brothers sort out their own argument, finally whirls around in her seat.
“He’s a big boy. He can make his own decisions.”
“Ruby-“ Sam wonders if it’s too late to launch himself out of the car.
“Apparently he can’t!” Dean half yells. “I’m dead for four months and the guy goes and hooks up with a demon! What if you knock her up Sam, did you ever think about that?”
Sam doesn’t have time to interject.
“And in my car ! Please tell me none of this happened in my car!”
Sam decides it’s best to say nothing at all.
“No.” Dean puts his head in his hands, ever the dramatic. “No! I’m going to have to deep-clean everything in here! No, you’re going to deep-clean everything.” He jabs an accusatory finger in Sam’s direction.
This was bound to come out eventually. Sam had hoped it would be many, many months down the line, over a beer, after he had defeated Lilith and saved the day. A little more congratulating and a little less half-naked Dean in the back seat. Now the best he can hope for is a chance at damage control. He turns to Ruby, who seems to be trying to glare Cas to death before he can do the same to her. That explains why they’ve been so quiet.
“Look, can you give us a minute, guys? It might be better for Dean and I to talk this out alo-“
Cas is gone before Sam can even finish his sentence. It almost feels too easy.
“Ruby?”
She hesitates, looking from Sam, to Dean, and back again.
“Alright, fine.” Her voice is seething with anger. “If your brother doesn’t trust me after everything I’ve sacrificed for you then I’ll just get out of the way. Enjoy your talk.”
Sam pulls over at the nearest gas station, getting one last icey look from Ruby before she opens the door.
“Lilith has been here.” A deep voice from the backseat makes Sam jump.
Cas has returned to his seat, now fully dressed, his brow pinched together.
“A town called High River 60 miles North.”
…
There have been a lot of awkward drives in the years Dean has spent hunting with his brother, but this might be the worst. He actually feels a flood of relief when the car rolls to a stop in a parking lot dimly lit by flickering lights.
The building in front of them appears to be a diner. It must be called Hal’s or Val’s or something, but after one too many seasons of snow, the sign reads A L’S I ER in washed out glowing red. The musty air reaches Dean a good twenty paces away when Sam cracks the door open and peers inside.
Sam signals behind him, and Ruby is slipping in the door before Dean can make a move.
“Just…wait here a minute. We’ve got it covered.”
“And let you go off with the demon chick and do whatever it is the two of you do when you aren’t defiling my car? I don’t think so.”
Dean starts after him, Cas stopping him by the arm. Dean doesn’t pull away. His heart does a tiny little flutter right out of a dimestore novel. It's embarrassing.
He gives Cas a once over, taking in the usual outfit, and then his own faded t-shirt and boxers. “Come on, man. You couldn’t have thought to grab me a pair of jeans?”
Cas’ face goes faintly red in the flickering light. He seriously considers something for a moment.
“I could go now, but it might be best for me to remain here.” He shoots a glance after Sam and Ruby.
“Forget it.” Dean grumbles.
Cas tilts his head to meet Dean’s eyes where he’s turned away. The grip on his arm goes from restraining to affectionate.
“You’re not angry with me. You’re embarrassed. And you’re scared that now this is out in the open something bad will happen.”
Dean scoffs “It’s not out in the-“
Cas moves a hand up to cup his face smiling gently. Reassuring.
Dean says nothing. Just covers Cas’ hand with his own and leans into it, closing his eyes.
…
When Sam peaks back out the diner door, Dean is waiting for him with his arms, and Castiel’s coat crossed across his chest like a disapproving sit-com mother.
“It’s all clear. Just one demon in there. We’ve got him tied up.”
“Wow, gee, great, Sammy. Did you gift wrap him for me too?” Dean calls back, voice dripping with sarcasm.
There goes the damage control. Sam sighs. At least the lying is over, even if it does come with the uniquely uncomfortable knowledge of why Dean’s grocery runs have been taking so long. Well… some of the lying is over. And he’s not lying to Dean about his powers exactly. Just strategically omitting details.
He pushes the door all the way open and leaves Dean to come in when he’s done sulking.
Maybe Dean is going to spend the rest of the night in You-did-something-I-don’t-like-so-now-I’m-going-to-be-as-miserable-as-possible mode, but Sam has to give him credit, he knows how to get a job done. When Dean marches up to the half-rotten chair the demon is tied to, it’s pretty intimidating.
The demon smirks up at Dean, not even struggling against the ropes bound over his grease-stained apron. He must have been the cook.
“Nice coat. Do you always dress like this for a hunt?”
Dean ignores him.
“What’s your name?”
Sam has stayed back behind his brother, half-bathed in shadow, and fixed his glare on the demon. If he’s heard anything from the others he’ll know it’s time to start talking.
“Does it matter?”
Shit. This isn’t going to be as easy as Sam had hoped. Apparently his reputation only precedes him so far.
Dean sets a hand on the back of the demon’s chair and leans in. “Alright. Let’s just cut the small talk then. Why was Lilith here?”
“Looks like you made it out of the pit, that’s a real shame, Winchester.” It’s subtle, but Sam sees Dean tense. Cas takes half a step forward. “Heard you were a real prodigy. Think you can get me to talk?”
Dean leans closer, pulling Ruby’s knife from the pocket of his…well…Cas’ coat. With a start, Sam realizes he had almost forgotten about the thing.
“Actually, I think I can.” He sneers.
At some point, Sam knows he’ll have to step in. He’ll have to bite the bullet and show Dean what he’s capable of. Pray he understands that it’s the only option. But Sam’s prayers have sat unanswered in some heavenly mail box long enough to collect their weight in dust. No. He’s going to make Dean understand.
He ignores Ruby’s warning look, closes his eyes and focuses on his breath, tugs on the dark thing deep inside him until he can feel it all the way to his fingertips, buzzing with power. He raises his hand. The squeezing starts to build inside his skull, like he’s standing on the roof of a plane with an unholy sinus infection. The demon’s voice barely cuts through it.
“Exorcise me if you want but Sebastian here has taken quite a beating. I leave, he dies.”
Sam lets his arm drop to his side, shrugging off the confused look Dean gives him. They’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.
“What was Lilith doing here?” Ruby pipes up.
The demon possessing Sebastian chuckles. “That’s above my pay grade, sweetheart. I thought you’d know that.”
It’s Dean’s turn again. “You can lie all you want, but we’re going to find out about it one way or another. Let’s do this the easy way. Give her up now. Working with a demon like that is only going to cause you problems.”
Not-Sebastian looks confused.
Sam rolls his eyes. “Well if he’s lying for her, maybe there’s a good reason, Dean! He knows how you’d react if he told the truth! He’s not some kid you need to protect anymore!”
Dean spins around. “Oh, so this is my fault?”
“You’re doing the exact same thing! You only think you’re better because he’s an angel and you can’t accept that this isn’t as black and white as it seems!”
Not-Sebastian looks incredulously between them. “Am I interrupting something?”
It’s remarkable how fast Dean wipes the embarrassed look off his face and turns back around. “What did Lilith tell you?”
“Nothing. Just doing her annual press tour.”
Castiel chooses that moment to step in. “He’s telling the truth. He does know anything.” Before he can speak, Cas slaps a hand onto Not-Sebastian’s head, not flinching when a blinding light pours out of his eyes. The demon slumps in his chair. “It could be a trap. We aren’t prepared for Lilith to bring the fight to us. We need to leave.”
And just like that it’s over. Sam doesn’t bother trying to talk to Dean again. He avoids Ruby’s glare from the back of the room, glancing between the scorched eyes of Not-Sebastian and Castiel. She brushes past him on her way out the door and down the street. There will definitely be complaints later. For now, she leaves the impala behind her, not wanting to follow Not-Sebastian.
He can barely make out Dean’s voice from inside the diner.
“Think the health inspector must have missed this place. Maybe they barbecued him up Whistlestop Café style.” A long stretch of silence. “It was a joke, man.”
Sam finally breaks the silence halfway through the drive. Why Dean let him drive again is beyond Sam, but it’s good to have his hands on the wheel and his mind on the road. Even with the welcome distraction, he can only last so long. “Can we just talk about this in the morning?”
Dean sighs. He looks exhausted, the bags under his eyes easier to see when he’s not dedicating every moment to hiding them. “Fine. But we’re talking about it.”
“Deal.”
The quiet is softer after that, underscored by faint music from the radio. It doesn’t take Dean long to slump into Cas’ shoulder, asleep faster than Sam has ever seen, maybe because of the protective arm Cas has tucked around his waist. Dean seems gentler like this. Almost happy. It brings a smile to Sam’s face.
Sure things are messy, but they’re the Winchester’s. He expects nothing less. And maybe if things work out for Dean, if he can actually be happy like this, it will be okay for Sam too.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Warnings: Emotional manipulation, abuse, and drug use.
Summary: In a quiet moment with Ruby, before the deal came due, Sam described it like the Sword of Damocles. Immense, deadly, daintily dangling inches above Deans exposed neck.
And, well, aside from Baby it was the only thing Sam stood to inherit.
The first time he met Ruby after Dean died he was busy holding a lighter to the thread.
Summary: Ruby had to temporarily abandon her female vessel. Sam soesn’t seem to mind.
Warnings: terribly written smut, bisexual Sam, oral sex (male receiving) , bad words, (i thinks that’s all)
A/N: Even though Ruby is in a male vessel I still refer to her with she/her pronouns.
Sam had definitely done this before. The way he was bobbing his head in time with his hand stroking what he couldn’t fit in his mouth and twisting on the upstroke. Taking more and more in, relaxing his throat, swallowing her down until the tip hit the back of his throat and holding her cock there. Swallowing around her length, letting the fluttering muscles of his throat send groans tumbling out of her mouth, tongue tracing over the pulsing vein.
Pulling back until only the tip was in between his swollen lips, flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves under the head, occasionally dipping his tongue into the slit. He shamelessly moaned around her length as he tasted the slightly bitter precome ooze out.
Honestly, Ruby wasn’t exactly sure how “the boy with the demon blood” had ended up on his knees in front of her, sucking cock like a pro, and looking up at her in a way that put porn stars to shame, but she was gonna complain. Maybe temporarily losing access to her favorite vessel had its perks.
“Fuck…,” the groan left her as she fisted a hand in his hair and yanked, only to groan louder from the vibrations of his responding moan.
Sam pulled off her cock with a wet pop as he paused to catch his breath. A trail of saliva bridged from his lower lip to her cock while his hand continued stroking the spit-slick shaft, his other hand moved to cup her sack, rolling the balls between his fingers, massaging them. Ruby’s hips bucked at the sensation and Sam couldn’t hide his smirk.
“Shut up,” Ruby mumbled; or at least tried to. Her words came out in a garbled mess of sounds as Sam licked up her length from root to tip.
How the hell had this man learned to suck dick so well? Acts of rebellion from his strict, pain in the ass father? Curiosity? Experimenting back in his fancy-schmancy college days? Either way, his mouth definitely knew it’s way around a cock.
“You wanna fuck my face? Come down my throat?” His lips placed feather light touches over her sensitive length as he spoke.
Ruby had to physically bite her lip to prevent herself from making any noise. Getting a reaction was what he wanted her to do. This wasn’t how their dynamic worked. He’d drink her blood and she’d vanish for a while. Let him get a bit strung out. She was always the one in charge of what happened. The whole blood thing was her plan after all. He was supposed to be the one that came crawling to her, begging for another fix. She wasn’t about to beg him for anything.
He chuckled at her lack of response, the feel of his warm breath against her cock made her fist her hand in his hair even harder. She saw his eyes briefly roll back, a tiny gasp sounding in his throat.
Huh, the demon thought to herself, he’s into hair pulling. She mentally cataloged that, as if trying to mark it as a weakness, something she could use against him in a situation like this. He was the one on his knees, yet he was running the show. That wasn’t how their “situations” usually went down. Christ, he still had her blood staining his teeth. He was not supposed to be the one in charge here.
Sam opened his mouth, slowly sliding down her cock, inch by inch. Screw this, she thought, using the hand in his hair to hold him in place as she roughly thrust forward, his throat gently relaxing as she continued fucking in and out of the wet, warm heat. His hands came up to rest on her still jean-clad thighs, fingernails digging in. He wasn’t stopping her, just grounding himself, she realized.
Looking back down at the hunter’s face, her gaze fell lower as she saw him palming himself through his own jeans. For fuck’s sake. He’s getting off on this.
Her hips started to falter as she felt herself getting closer to the edge. She pushed his head more, thrusting harder, abusing his throat as she felt the coil in her abdomen tighten even further.
Sam’s eyes met hers, pupils blown wide with lust as he hallowed his cheeks, and that was it.
Her hand forced his head to stay in place, with her cock as deep as it could go while ropes of white spilled down his throat. He moaned as he greedily swallowed every last drop, while Ruby’s head thunked back against the wall she was leaning against, panting.
When she looked back down the demon watched as a dark spot spread across the hunters jeans. She couldn’t help but smirk to herself as she realized that “the future boyking of hell” had just come in his pants like a teenager, just from sucking her off.
Later, when they were lying in bed, after Ruby had finally been able to get back into her preferred small, brunette vessel, she could have sworn she heard him mutter something under his breath. Something about not being a demon’s bitch. That meant nothing to her. She assumed it had something to do with that asshole brother of his.
She smiled. If only Dean knew all of what his little brother was doing behind his back.
