Я перечитала фиков, где все невозможно плохо, дней рождений не было, детства опять же не было, родители законченные редиски, и с любов'ю та же фигня- короче , об'являю свой дом без'ядерной зоной"
"Dean I swear to god, if you make one more joke about being 'touched by an angel' I'm going to throw you under a bus.
))))))))))))))))))Animal
Sam's first thought when something long and dark dropped out of the darkness right on top of his brother was, Dean!
His second thought was, wow, that's a really big snake.
His third thought was, oh god damn. Not again.
"Sam?" Dean called, his tone remarkably level considering that there was a least two dozen feet of really big snake wrapped around him. "I think we found the naga."
"Just stay calm, Dean," Sam said, mostly on autopilot. "I'll get you down in just a -"
Sam's voice died in his throat as the naga reached out with surprisingly human hands to cup Dean's face, chirring low and contented in its throat. One mottled thumb swept across Dean's cheek in a glide of glass green scales that was nearly the same colour as Dean's wide eyes.
"Well," Dean managed, as a slick, forked tongue darted out to lick at his neck. "This is unexpectedly kinky. You got any bright ideas, geek bo-oi-oh my fucking god."
"Dean?" Sam demanded, as Dean's entire body jerked within the confines of heavy coils.
"Ju-just fine Sammy," Dean promised, eyes going heavy lidded in a way that Sam really didn't want to think about. "Wasn't expecting that, is all. How about you go find that damn statue and I'll - oh Christ, that feels weird - I'll keep Sir Hiss here busy."
Sam hesitated, torn, then jumped as the rough susurrus of tearing denim ripped shocking and loud through the air.
"Oh motherfucker," Dean said, rather breathlessly. "These are my favourite jeans." He flicked an entirely ineffectual glare at Sam. "Stop worrying about my maidenly virtue and get the fuck gone already!"
The naga wound itself tighter, hands sliding away from Dean's face to tear at his shirt, and Sam decided that was his cue to go.
"And bring me a change of clothes while you're at it!" Dean's voice cracked on the last word and Sam sped up. The things he did for his brother.Dean does
Hollywood the supernatural world. Sam is unenthused
Simply Irresistible FayJay
Dean's jaw drops. Actually drops. “Did I – what, was it something I said?” says Dean, feeling completely discombobulated. “Are you pissed about something? Is this some girly passive-aggressive shit, Sam? Is it because I said you looked like a bitch in that shirt? 'Cause I'm not sorry, Sam. You do look like a little bitch in that shirt, and it's my brotherly duty to let you know these things. Flowery patterns are not manly.”
“No! No, I just think it would be – better – if I travelled in the back for once. That's all. Change of scenery, you know? Nothing to worry about,” says Sam, and he slides into the back. “We're cool. It's all cool. And it's paisley, not flowers.”
She marked you,” he says, carefully.
“She what?” Dean didn't notice anything unusual in the shower. He'd definitely have noticed a new scar, now that he's sporting so much baby-smooth skin.“
Sam sits up in bed and glowers across the room. “Everybody wants to fuck you, Dean!” he snaps. “Okay? You're giving off these – I don't know, these crazy pheromones, or something. She's infected you with this, this, whatever-it-is, and now everybody wants to jump your bones. Waitresses. Girl scouts. Hotel check in guys. Nuns. Everybody.”
Dean blinks. “What?”
“You're walking around with a glowing neon “Take Me Now, Big Boy” sign above your head, Dean.”
“I – what?” Dean is not at his most articulate, it must be said. “How do you – oh, no fucking way, man! You too?”
“Yes. Yes, fine. Me too. Everyone. You are a sex bomb. Congratulations. I think I've got callouses on my dick.” Sam sounds royally pissed off. “Happy now?”
“No! Not happy! Ew! I did not ever need to hear that, Sam! Jesus, you mean every time – and you – Jesus!”
“Believe me when I tell you that the feeling is mutual,” Sam says with asperity. “You think this has been a good day for me? This has not been a good day for me, Dean.”
“Jesus!”
“I wish you wouldn't take the Lord's name in vain,” says Castiel. He sounds disappointed all over again, and when Dean darts a skittish glance over at his friendly neighbourhood angel, he's pretty damn sure that Castiel has scooted closer on the bed.
“Okay,” he says warily, “No taking the Lord's name in vain. Check.” He swallows. “So how do we fix this?”
Castiel scoots in a little closer, closing his eyes and inhaling carefully. “I'm not entirely sure,” he says. “I need to know which one did this to you. I think – no. Can I...” and he's a lot closer now, and Dean's sitting real stiff and jumpy with his back against the headboard and his eyes bulging as Castiel scrambles over and sits on his lap. “I mean no offense,” Castiel says politely, like that makes a difference.
“Oh my God,” says Sam, from the other side of the room. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“Samuel, I would take it as a kindness if you too refrained from taking the Lord's name in vain,” says Castiel, and then he leans right in and presses his nose into Dean's collarbone and inhales. Dean's head tips back onto the headboard and he stares up at the ceiling, wide-eyed and totally freaking the fuck out. “That's – I nearly have it. If you hasn't bathed so recently...hmm. Perhaps – let me try something.” And Castiel licks Dean's throat. Dean makes a shocked sound, a startled hiss of indrawn breath, and he hears it echoed from the other bed.
“What the – is this, like Angelic Candid Camera or something? Seriously? Are you going to bust out the Barry White in a minute?” asks Dean in a quavering voice, trying hard to focus on being freaked out and pissed off, rather than being turned on. Because this is, unexpectedly, a turn on. Who the hell knew?
“No,” says Castiel, and his tone is almost irritable. He sits back on his haunches and closes his eyes, an expression of deep concentration on his face, and then he scowls. “It's not enough. Forgive me, Dean, I must beg your indulgence just a little longer,” says the angel, and that's all the warning Dean gets before Castiel is swooping in close, cupping Dean's jaw with both hands and tipping his head back and kissing him, a warm, wet, deceptively human-feeling tongue darting in between Dean's parted lips and licking around their inner edges as if trying to chase the last tantalising trace of flavour before slipping in deeper and exploring the recesses of Dean's mouth. Dean makes a startled, helpless little sound and bucks up against Castiel in spite of himself – and, fuck, this is wrong, is what it is, but it's also quite appallingly hot.
“I can't – I don't think – fuck, I'm going to go have another shower,” says Sam, his voice ragged as he scrambles out of bed. “A long, cold shower. I can't handle this. This is messed up Dean. Fix it, already.”
Dean pretty much agrees, but on the other hand, he's never been one to object to new experiences in the sack. Although, granted, those experiences have always involved people with breasts up until now. And, you know, their own bodies, not borrowed ones. The Very Secret Diary of Bobby Singer, Hunter (FayJay )
September 17th, 2008
Finished last of whisky. Considered alphabetising books. Bought more whisky instead.
September 19, 2008
Dean Winchester back from grave! Not demon, shapeshifter or revenant! Also not halucination brought on by whisky! Never knew such a family for clawing their way back from death! Says he don't know how he got busted out of Hell. Must've been Sam. That idjit! Not crying. Had something in my eye.
Killing moon
Dean widens his eyes questioningly and looks down at himself, seeing the same hot, fit dude he always sees. "Yeah?"
Sam sighs. "I feel like…I like this too much. Having sex with you. Sleeping with you. It's still weird…but I feel like it's not weird enough. We're brothers, man. I shouldn't… I shouldn't be laying here feeling all satisfied 'cause I got laid with my brother."
"Satisfied?" Dean repeats, brightening. "Yeah?"