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FIC: Easily Lay Me Down (het and implied slash)
I was just thinking today about how it has been more than a month since I last posted fic here, which is kind of sad! But ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tvm just revealed the authors over at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spn_gleeweek, so at least I get to claim my contribution to that now!
Title: Easily Lay Me Down
Author:katjad
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Dean/FC, implied Sam/OMC (Stanford-era)
Word Count: 995
Disclaimer: All characters, situations, etc. belong to Eric Kripke and others.
Summary: Dean goes to Stanford to surprise Sam on Halloween, but it doesn't quite work out how he'd thought it would.
Author's Notes: Whentvm asked for writers for the spn_gleeweek guessing comp, I immediately said, "Eee, sure!" and sat down to write, and uh, somehow this is what came out of that! More notes about the pairings after the fic. Thanks so much to aynslee for looking this over for me!
Easily Lay Me Down
The first time Dean sees Sam with the guy, it's on Halloween. Sam's been at Stanford for a little over two months. Halloween is Sam's least favorite holiday, and it's pure luck that there are two urgent hunts that need to be taken care of right now, one of them in South Carolina. Dad drew that one, and Dean, casual and easy, agreed to go to Reno. He didn't mention its proximity to Palo Alto; neither of them did, although he figures Dad had to be thinking it.
Dean's never wasted a poltergeist as quickly in his life as he does that night. Thirty minutes after dark the poltergeist is toast and Dean is on I-80, speeding towards California.
He gets in a couple minutes before midnight. It's not the first time he's been to Palo Alto -- they hunted a ghost in one of the dormitories here when Dean was fifteen, and he jerked off thinking about those college girls for months afterwards -- but it's the first time he's been here since Sam has been at college. He knows the name of Sam's dorm, has looked it up on the campus map and thinks he can probably find it, but he's hoping Sam's not going to be there tonight, that he'll at least go out and try to have some fun.
So it really throws Dean when he gets across the street from Sam's dorm and there Sam is, leaving the building right that second. He's with a good sized group, ten or eleven people, it looks like, all of them dressed up: the girls in slutty versions of little kid costumes, the guys as who-knows-what, and then there is Sam, towering over the rest of them and laughing. They're all laughing -- they're drunk, Dean realizes; of course they are -- and Sam is in the back in a football uniform. Not his own -- Sam's never played football -- but he's borrowed someone's football uniform, no helmet but the rest of it, pads and cleats and all, and the pants cling tight to his legs.
Dean means to go up and yell at him: "Sammy! Hey, Sammy! Happy Halloween, little brother!" But he doesn't. He doesn't say anything at all. He just kind of stands to the side as the group approaches him, and he actually straight-up hides when they get nearer. He doesn't know why.
There's a guy Sam is walking next to. He's tall, not as tall as Sam or Dean but close, and he's got copper skin and bright dark eyes and there is something in the way that he is smiling at Sam, something about how he is walking closer to Sam than any of the others--
They're friends, Dean tells himself, pushing down the quick hot rush of something in his gut. They are friends and Dean is a terrible coward, because he still does not say hello, even when Sam walks right past him, drunk and not paying attention. Sam could get killed, wandering around all drunk like this. It's a college campus, sure, but that doesn't mean he's safe here. None of these college kids would have his back if something happened, especially not when they're all drunk like this.
Dean follows them.
The party they go to isn't far away, just a few dorms down the row. The dorm's got this interior courtyard, huge speakers blasting something awful with a pounding base line that gets in Dean's head and he suddenly, desperately needs beer. There's a line for the keg but he pushes through it -- same strategy as pushing through any other crowd, except without the government I.D. -- and he gets a cup of Coors Light, too much head and not quite cold, but it's beer, at least, better than no beer. Momentarily he's lost Sammy but then he finds him again, head sticking up above everyone else's--
Sam is dancing. Sam has to be absolutely trashed, because Sam is dancing. Dean's only seen this a couple of times before, and Dean would just about be willing to sell the tires off the Impala for a camera to record the beauty of this moment. Sam is flailing like a mad giraffe and no one seems to be getting out of the way, especially not the guy from before. He's right up in Sam's space, dancing near him, and Sam's just got this happy look on his face, grinning at the guy from time to time . . .
It's nothing. It's all just the alcohol, doesn't mean a damned thing. Dean doesn't know why he cares. He doesn't know why he wants to punch his hand through a goddamned wall, why he goes and downs three beers in rapid succession and finds a hot blonde, pulls the emergency condom out of his wallet and fucks her up against the wall. The bricks have to be rough against her back but she is drunker even than he is, doesn't seem to care, and Dean is maybe a jerk but he's not saying anything either. He needs this, needs it hard and fast, and she's giving it to him good enough, little panting breaths into his mouth as he moves up under her short nurse's skirt . . .
It's over quickly and Dean is out of there, gone gone gone. He looks back at Sam, once, sees the guy lay a hand on Sam's shoulder and the way Sam relaxes into it, and Dean doesn't have to see any more. He walks back to the Impala, drains the contents of his emergency flask and spends the night in the back seat. He's gone in the morning before Sam would ever know he'd been there at all.
-
Post-fic Author's Notes: So I wrote this, and then stepped back and took a look at it and went, "Holy shit, I think I just wrote Dean/Jess." I don't know that it's necessarily super-clear -- probably there's some way to make it clearer -- but I definitely think it's her. :D Also, I might've mentioned a while back that I was writing Sam/OMC -- well, this is the OMC. I don't think they're together yet at this point, and the Sam/OMC fic was kicking my ass so hard that I set it down after four or five false starts, but I will finish it eventually, although I think it might end up being an AU by the time I'm done with it.
Anyway, whee, posting fic again! \o/
tvm just revealed the authors over at spn_gleeweek, so at least I get to claim my contribution to that now!Title: Easily Lay Me Down
Author:
katjadRating: NC-17
Pairings: Dean/FC, implied Sam/OMC (Stanford-era)
Word Count: 995
Disclaimer: All characters, situations, etc. belong to Eric Kripke and others.
Summary: Dean goes to Stanford to surprise Sam on Halloween, but it doesn't quite work out how he'd thought it would.
Author's Notes: When
tvm asked for writers for the spn_gleeweek guessing comp, I immediately said, "Eee, sure!" and sat down to write, and uh, somehow this is what came out of that! More notes about the pairings after the fic. Thanks so much to aynslee for looking this over for me!The first time Dean sees Sam with the guy, it's on Halloween. Sam's been at Stanford for a little over two months. Halloween is Sam's least favorite holiday, and it's pure luck that there are two urgent hunts that need to be taken care of right now, one of them in South Carolina. Dad drew that one, and Dean, casual and easy, agreed to go to Reno. He didn't mention its proximity to Palo Alto; neither of them did, although he figures Dad had to be thinking it.
Dean's never wasted a poltergeist as quickly in his life as he does that night. Thirty minutes after dark the poltergeist is toast and Dean is on I-80, speeding towards California.
He gets in a couple minutes before midnight. It's not the first time he's been to Palo Alto -- they hunted a ghost in one of the dormitories here when Dean was fifteen, and he jerked off thinking about those college girls for months afterwards -- but it's the first time he's been here since Sam has been at college. He knows the name of Sam's dorm, has looked it up on the campus map and thinks he can probably find it, but he's hoping Sam's not going to be there tonight, that he'll at least go out and try to have some fun.
So it really throws Dean when he gets across the street from Sam's dorm and there Sam is, leaving the building right that second. He's with a good sized group, ten or eleven people, it looks like, all of them dressed up: the girls in slutty versions of little kid costumes, the guys as who-knows-what, and then there is Sam, towering over the rest of them and laughing. They're all laughing -- they're drunk, Dean realizes; of course they are -- and Sam is in the back in a football uniform. Not his own -- Sam's never played football -- but he's borrowed someone's football uniform, no helmet but the rest of it, pads and cleats and all, and the pants cling tight to his legs.
Dean means to go up and yell at him: "Sammy! Hey, Sammy! Happy Halloween, little brother!" But he doesn't. He doesn't say anything at all. He just kind of stands to the side as the group approaches him, and he actually straight-up hides when they get nearer. He doesn't know why.
There's a guy Sam is walking next to. He's tall, not as tall as Sam or Dean but close, and he's got copper skin and bright dark eyes and there is something in the way that he is smiling at Sam, something about how he is walking closer to Sam than any of the others--
They're friends, Dean tells himself, pushing down the quick hot rush of something in his gut. They are friends and Dean is a terrible coward, because he still does not say hello, even when Sam walks right past him, drunk and not paying attention. Sam could get killed, wandering around all drunk like this. It's a college campus, sure, but that doesn't mean he's safe here. None of these college kids would have his back if something happened, especially not when they're all drunk like this.
Dean follows them.
The party they go to isn't far away, just a few dorms down the row. The dorm's got this interior courtyard, huge speakers blasting something awful with a pounding base line that gets in Dean's head and he suddenly, desperately needs beer. There's a line for the keg but he pushes through it -- same strategy as pushing through any other crowd, except without the government I.D. -- and he gets a cup of Coors Light, too much head and not quite cold, but it's beer, at least, better than no beer. Momentarily he's lost Sammy but then he finds him again, head sticking up above everyone else's--
Sam is dancing. Sam has to be absolutely trashed, because Sam is dancing. Dean's only seen this a couple of times before, and Dean would just about be willing to sell the tires off the Impala for a camera to record the beauty of this moment. Sam is flailing like a mad giraffe and no one seems to be getting out of the way, especially not the guy from before. He's right up in Sam's space, dancing near him, and Sam's just got this happy look on his face, grinning at the guy from time to time . . .
It's nothing. It's all just the alcohol, doesn't mean a damned thing. Dean doesn't know why he cares. He doesn't know why he wants to punch his hand through a goddamned wall, why he goes and downs three beers in rapid succession and finds a hot blonde, pulls the emergency condom out of his wallet and fucks her up against the wall. The bricks have to be rough against her back but she is drunker even than he is, doesn't seem to care, and Dean is maybe a jerk but he's not saying anything either. He needs this, needs it hard and fast, and she's giving it to him good enough, little panting breaths into his mouth as he moves up under her short nurse's skirt . . .
It's over quickly and Dean is out of there, gone gone gone. He looks back at Sam, once, sees the guy lay a hand on Sam's shoulder and the way Sam relaxes into it, and Dean doesn't have to see any more. He walks back to the Impala, drains the contents of his emergency flask and spends the night in the back seat. He's gone in the morning before Sam would ever know he'd been there at all.
-
Post-fic Author's Notes: So I wrote this, and then stepped back and took a look at it and went, "Holy shit, I think I just wrote Dean/Jess." I don't know that it's necessarily super-clear -- probably there's some way to make it clearer -- but I definitely think it's her. :D Also, I might've mentioned a while back that I was writing Sam/OMC -- well, this is the OMC. I don't think they're together yet at this point, and the Sam/OMC fic was kicking my ass so hard that I set it down after four or five false starts, but I will finish it eventually, although I think it might end up being an AU by the time I'm done with it.
Anyway, whee, posting fic again! \o/