A lot of people have it worse.
“No—” Sam manages, eyes full of emotions. After everything Lucifer did to me… He unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way and carefully pulls it off his shoulders to toss it aside before turning back to Cas and reaching for the buttons on his blood-soaked shirt. The overcoat is pushed off and to the side, and then Sam starts to work the buttons down the angel’s shirt until they’re all opened and he’s pushing it off Castiel’s body.
Sam wraps a large hand around the angel’s neck and pulls him in for another kiss. He won’t let Lucifer win, not this time. Not when Cas is at stake.
His vision swims from blood loss, but he doesn’t care as his hand snakes around the angel’s head to tug at his hair. Sam will feel something, he hopes. If the cleansing goes the way Cas says it will, then maybe…
Maybe Sam might be able to live another day.
Despite his words, despite of his reaction that seems entirely opposed to intercourse, Sam starts stripping his clothes off. He can feel his over coat slide off his shoulders and hears it thump softly to the mattress next to them and—— he’s being stripped bare of his shirt, too.
Scars of a Sigil, almost so thin they’re not visible.
But he doesn’t get to be self-conscious and is pulled forward into a kiss that he willingly responds to. He’s kissing Sam softly, ever so gently, and his chapped lips are tainted with ruby red.
“Sam, I—” He isn’t sure whether Sam does this just for him, or finds pleasure in it as well. Hesitantly, he presses forward, groin flush against Sam’s. Not —- good.
Arousal seeps into the pit of his stomach. “I want you, to want this.” he says, voice almost stern, because he’s serious about this. He wants to know.
Sam laughs, a hollow, broken sound against the angel’s mouth. “That’s my problem, then, isn’t it? Because I want this more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time, and I can’t have it.” The irony makes him want to rip his skin to shreds and crawl out of it— watch his blood swirl down a shower drain as he stares down upon what used to be his encasing.
He wants to badly to be pure.
Sam shoves his hips harshly against the angel, knowing Cas should be able to feel something even if Sam can’t. It’s a cruel game— finally have the angel right where he wants him, only to have him dangled in front of Sam.
“It’s just not fair, you know?” Then again, what is in their lives? His wall’s crushed and buried in his head because of Castiel, and Sam can’t find it in him to be angry at all. There’s no anger left inside him— he’s just too tired. He wants everything to go back to normal… he just wants to be able to feel again.
His blood-soaked hands rest at the angel’s hips, leaving the next move up to Cas.
[Sam’s heart surges up to his throat, and his insides melt as he’s reminded how Cas makes him feel the way he does.]
Oh.
[He finds himself staring down into too-blue eyes for only a moment, then in a burst of courage, bringing still-bandaged hands up to cup the angel’s face and lean in for a kiss.]
[Sam can count on one hand the amount of kisses they’ve shared. The shyness between them has a nice balance with everything else, and the fear of losing himself drains away whenever Cas is near.]
[Castiel is surprised as he feels those bandaged hands cupping his face —- but his eyes flutter shut obediently when he’s kissed.]
[It’s a gentle kiss, a soft peck, but to the angel it means the world.]
[It means that whatever he said, pleased Sam enough to let those silly little sentiments take him over and show his affection.]
You haven’t forgotten how to dance.
[The remark is almost coquettish, his eyes sparkling with mild amusement and —- happiness. Gently, his hands wrap around Sam’s waist.]
[ Sam flushes, the remark innocent and yet does things to Sam. He smiles, hands never leaving the angel’s face as he dips down for another kiss. ]
[ I don’t understand how I can love someone s o m u c h —
And Sam pulls back to stare right into Castiel’s eyes. ]
—There’s just something about you.
[ He is, without a doubt, so lost. And yet… he knows exactly where he is. ]
Sam’s face scrunched up for a moment before he decided to let Dean’s word choice go. His hand shook where it was placed against the side of Dean’s face, and he pulled it back and stood up, posture suggesting a bit of uncertainty.
He didn’t like the way Dean looked at him sometimes. It’d always been that way, how Sam was a puzzle Dean was dedicating his life to figuring out. When Sam was having visions, when Sam was drinking demon blood, and now that Sam’s seeing Hell every damn day.
He hated it, but he was growing used to it. At least Sam knew he was the monster Dean saw.
“What did you, uh, want?” There had to be a reason Dean had tried waking him up. After days of sleepless nights, only something important would have driven Dean to stirring Sam out of rest.
Rubbing at his cheek bone one last time when Sammy stands, Dean manages up to his feet as well. “Welp, I was going through the cupboards and noticed we’re almost out of supplies. Coffee is practically done to the last scoop, there’s one end slice of bread left in the bag, and we’ve got enough meat to feed a vegetarian.”
Patting himself down to be sure he had his wallet and his cell phone, Dean snatches up the keys before looking at his brother. “I’m gonna go to the grocery store and pick some stuff up. I know you said I could leave a note, but I prefer you acknowledging that I’m leaving. So you stay here and look pretty, I’ll be back before you know it babe.”
Dean offers the younger man a heartfelt smile and reaches out, grabbing Sammy’s hand to tug up to his mouth. Kissing the back of it, he waits for Sam to answer him.
A blush found its way to Sam’s cheeks, and he looked away, embarrassed at the pink staining his skin. He was happy Dean didn’t ask Sam why he still had the bandage on his hand, because shouldn’t it have healed already? Sam wasn’t sure he’d be able to tell Dean about the way he keeps it as a reminder, was a way to keep that stabilizing pain.
Sam reminded himself that it’d been a good couple of days, and him and Dean had barely been spending time together lately. Sam’d been holed up in the motel because he hadn’t been up to being around people. But that day, as he slid his eyes over to Dean’s waiting expression, fingertips held so gently in the older hunter’s calloused hand, he bit the inside of his cheek and made a decision.
“Can I come?” His voice came out stronger than he felt, but Sam would have to face the real world sometime if he was going to kick Lucifer’s ass. “You, ah— never get the right kind of granola.”
Sam had finally gotten some shuteye. It’d been at least three days, but the younger Winchester was finally able to relax enough to be pulled into sleep.
It wasn’t, however, without nightmares. Dean’s lips on Sam’s neck, while everything he may need in the waking hours, did nothing for him in the subconscious except have him shooting up to a sitting position, fist connecting with Dean’s face as he eyes flew open, and scrambling away from his brother and nearly falling off the bed. His breathing was heavy and labored for a full ten seconds before he realized what was going on.
“Shit,” Sam breathed, crawling over to his brother. “Dammit, I’m so sorry.” He placed a shaking hand over top of the place he’d hit, careful fingers ghosting over it. “I’m sorry—” he repeated, kissing Dean on the lips once, twice, three times.
It had been a good last couple days. Sam was determined to keep it that way.
“Ah! Christ, Sammy!” Recoiling as he is struck, the older man doesn’t even get a chance to rub at his now aching cheekbone. He’s being kissed— desperate kisses from a desperate man. Accident, it was an accident, just breathe…
Doing his best not to let the irritation he feels blossom into anger or even a grudge, Dean growls low and manages to kiss back the third time. Plush pink lips going back to what they’d initially been doing before the attack. When he withdraws, he licks his lips and gives Sammy a scrutinizing look. “Yeah, yeah. I forgive you babe. I know you’re uh- sensitive.”
Careful with his words, Dean had learned that lesson. Be careful around Sammy, careful with your actions and your words. Careful not to look at him wrong, careful to give him what he needed without smothering him. His brother had become more of a puzzle than a lover, and that was okay.
Dean was ready to handle Sammy no matter what he was; brother, lover, son, puzzle— as long as Sammy was his brother, his lover, his son— his puzzle.
His everything.
Sam’s face scrunched up for a moment before he decided to let Dean’s word choice go. His hand shook where it was placed against the side of Dean’s face, and he pulled it back and stood up, posture suggesting a bit of uncertainty.
He didn’t like the way Dean looked at him sometimes. It’d always been that way, how Sam was a puzzle Dean was dedicating his life to figuring out. When Sam was having visions, when Sam was drinking demon blood, and now that Sam’s seeing Hell every damn day.
He hated it, but he was growing used to it. At least Sam knew he was the monster Dean saw.
“What did you, uh, want?” There had to be a reason Dean had tried waking him up. After days of sleepless nights, only something important would have driven Dean to stirring Sam out of rest.
Get up, outta bed— sometimes before Sammy and sometimes after— meander to the kitchen for some shitty coffee. Showers and teeth brushing, worn jeans and a button down. These are how Dean’s mornings usually went. If Sammy was awake, he’d try to steal a few kisses if the man was feeling up to it; and if he was asleep, Dean would snuggle up against him in bed and attempt to wake him with tender caresses and soft kisses.
Sammy was still rather broken from the cage, and Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever get better. But Dean was patient, and he was in love. Despite the broken mess that his younger brother had become, Dean still loved him. He even tried to say it out loud more often, thinking that the affection might help to combat the sorrow running through the younger man’s veins.
This morning was a bit different, but only just a bit. This was a morning when Sammy wasn’t awake yet, and Dean had gotten his coffee and his shower. This time when Dean climbed into bed with his younger brother and began kissing him awake, it was with the intention to leave once the other had roused from his sleep. Sammy kept telling Dean that he could leave notes if he had to go out, but Dean liked saying it out loud. His brother was kinda fragile, and Dean didn’t want to break him.
“Sammy, wake up handsome…” The shorter man’s lips murmured the words against Sammy’s neck.
Sam had finally gotten some shuteye. It’d been at least three days, but the younger Winchester was finally able to relax enough to be pulled into sleep.
It wasn’t, however, without nightmares. Dean’s lips on Sam’s neck, while everything he may need in the waking hours, did nothing for him in the subconscious except have him shooting up to a sitting position, fist connecting with Dean’s face as he eyes flew open, and scrambling away from his brother and nearly falling off the bed. His breathing was heavy and labored for a full ten seconds before he realized what was going on.
“Shit,” Sam breathed, crawling over to his brother. “Dammit, I’m so sorry.” He placed a shaking hand over top of the place he’d hit, careful fingers ghosting over it. “I’m sorry—” he repeated, kissing Dean on the lips once, twice, three times.
It had been a good last couple days. Sam was determined to keep it that way.
What, you mean Cas? He’s not my—
wait but can we talk about the handicap bus driver who flipped me off on my way home from school
ok im done
i have an ok jared drawing, but i’m gonna save that for another day
now i might actually get to rp-ing let’s see omfg
okay here have a jensen
but only because it’s mun-day and i’m actually really proud of how this one turned out
