Fic: Future Imperfect
Title: Future Imperfect
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Lucifer/Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: 5x04
Warnings: Incest
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: "When it's complete, Sam will be able to see what's happening two years in the future. Hopefully learning something that will help you stop the apocalypse."
AN: The world stole an hour from me this morning and I was in a lazy and ridiculous mood, so I wrote this while I had my coffee
Castiel has the spell all set out. It manages to look like nothing threatening at all. Just a big bowl of water with some important herbs tossed in it. A collection of time and sight related symbols are etched around it.
Dean's eyeing it like it's about to do something horrible.
Sam thinks it looks like they might go bobbing for apples at any moment.
"So you're sure this thing will work?" Dean asks again. Which makes it about the fourth or maybe the fifth time.
"Yes," Castiel says quietly. "When it's complete, Sam will be able to see what's happening two years in the future. Hopefully learning something that will help you stop the apocalypse."
"But he won't be able to do anything." That's the part Dean doesn't seem to like. It's kind of understandable, Sam guesses.
Since time travelling hasn't exactly gone well for them so far.
Castiel shakes his head.
"He will be an observer, nothing more."
"And you're sure he can't get hurt?" Dean's been fidgeting ever since Castiel set the whole thing up. Sam thinks maybe he's afraid that nothing will have changed. That the future will still be a mess of disease and despair. Or that it will be worse.
Sam knows Dean doesn't want to see that again. Which is why he's agreed to look this time. He's not exactly excited about it. But he's stepped up, standing between Castiel and the table they've set the spell up on. He's about as prepared as he can get. He's even prepared for it to be horrible. To face whatever demons might live in the future and not let them come between them.
"I'm very sure, Dean, Sam will remain here with us in all the ways that count."
"But he's not going to get lost out there." There's something fierce in Dean's voice, something tight that he's trying to hang on to. Like he's regretting letting Sam do this and he wants to demand to take the trip himself.
"No," Castiel reassures quietly. "He'll be drawn to a moment of strong emotional connection but he will not actually be there as such."
Sam's been ready for this for an hour now. Dean's the one that's stalling. Worry, or guilt, like he's afraid of what Sam might find. Of what he might see.
But it seems he's finally run out of things to say. So, Sam nods at Castiel. Who tips his head just slightly back in acknowledgement and slides his hand into the water. Sam takes a deep breath when the angel lifts his hand, dripping water everywhere, and places it over his eyes.
................................................................................................................
Sam's not entirely sure what wakes him up.
He's mostly still asleep. Three quarters asleep at least, leg thrown over the weight of someone else's, face mashed into an expanse of back which is stupidly warm but perfectly still. He thinks he's getting far too used to waking up like this. It's indulgent.
The quiet hush of voices turns into vibration, suggesting whoever he's laying on is probably talking. It's too big to be Dean or Castiel. Lucifer then.
"You don't sleep," Dean mutters quietly, in answer to a question Sam never heard.
"I'm currently investigating the merits of sleep," Lucifer protests. In that smooth, deep voice that suggests if anyone disturbs him he will be investigating the merits of making them regret it. Painfully.
Dean, who's never been able to resist poking a sleeping dragon in his life, grunts something unimpressed and the bed shifts, suggesting he's done something. The huff of amusement a second later, closely followed by the sharply indrawn, and complete unnecessary, breath from Lucifer, tells Sam he should probably be awake for this.
He very reluctantly open his eyes.
Dean's pushed close enough that his knee knocks against Sam's. He's shoved himself inelegantly and greedily into Lucifer's body like he has nothing better to do. He's hissing things against the devil's mouth that Sam can't hear, One hand pushed down between them and shifting in a way that's lazy and familiar.
Sam's hand moves on the pillow over his head and finds the mess of Lucifer's hair. He drags his fingers backwards through it, which gets him a low purring growl that goes straight to his dick.
Dean's eyes flick up briefly to meet his, bright with amusement when he discovers Sam's awake, before he pushes in tighter against Lucifer and makes further sleep impossible by demanding one fierce biting kiss after another. Sam's hand fists in the devil's hair, body pressing in where it's draped over Lucifer's back and thighs, one hard instinctive push.
They're never gentle with each other and Sam can do nothing for a second but breathe and watch them kiss in reckless, almost angry pushes. Until there are slender fingers in Dean's hair, sliding and pulling at the barely there shortness of it. Tugging him away from the devil's mouth with a loose wet sound.
"Cas," Dean drawls out thickly, like the angel is something beautiful. Like he was just waiting for him.
"I think you should apologise for interrupting Lucifer’s investigation into sleep," Castiel says. His hair is a wreck and Sam suspects he was investigating sleep himself. Sam huffs amusement against Lucifer's neck. Castiel is fond of sleep.
Dean laughs with his head tipped back. A throaty wet noise that's all sex.
"How should I apologise?"
Castiel hums like he's thinking about it. Then he pushes with his fingers, eases Dean's head down, while the other hand smoothes down his back and leaving Dean no choice but to slide down the bed.
"Enthusiastically," Castiel says quietly. "And with your mouth."
Sam's noise of amusement turns into a noise of appreciation when Lucifer shifts to make room for his brother and Sam ends up curved exactly in the right place to leave him leaking brain cells and murmuring something greedy into impervious skin. He can't resist sliding a hand down, finding where Lucifer's still slippery enough to make the first push of Sam's fingers easy, and the second deep. He can't stop once he starts, pulling one rough noise of lust after another from Lucifer's throat.
The next time Sam looks up Castiel has a hand curled round the back of Dean's head, guiding him but not pushing him. Though Sam's fairly sure he wouldn’t mind a little pushing. That Dean wouldn’t object in the slightest if Lucifer wanted to fuck his mouth.
The soft, satisfied noise that escapes from Castiel is low and catches in his throat.
Sam grunts, because that's about as much as he can stand. He's already pushing at the weight of Lucifer's thigh, sliding it up over Dean's shoulder so he can get closer, so he can press up and inside him, in one solid push. One shivery slide of heat and greed that leaves him breathless and strung so tight and so desperate that blood roars in his ears. His shaky exhale ends up against Lucifer's ear. Castiel is drifting up the bed, finding Lucifer's hair and Sam's hand. Then the angels are kissing. Slow, strong, greedy kisses. Lucifer making rough noises like he wins and Castiel smothering them while his fingers tangle with Sam's, over and over.
A mess of puzzle pieces that shouldn't fit together.
But they've become pretty good at making this work.
.............................................................................................................................
"Sam?" Dean's voice is stiff and faraway. But it's tight, like he's been calling him for a long time.
Castiel's hand slides off Sam's face and he's abruptly back in the dim light of their motel room. Which is so surprising he almost falls down.
He sways a little and Castiel's other hand straightens him.
"Did it work?" Dean demands. "Did you see how we stop the apocalypse?"
Sam makes some sort of whimpery gargling noise in his throat.
"Sam?" Dean's face twists into something worried. Mouth a line of fierce tension.
Castiel slides into view as well. His concern is slightly less obvious than Dean's but it's still there.
"Oh God," Sam manages and it's like he'd forgotten how to breathe because he's suddenly dragging air like he spent the last ten minutes drowning. "Oh God."
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Lucifer/Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: 5x04
Warnings: Incest
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: "When it's complete, Sam will be able to see what's happening two years in the future. Hopefully learning something that will help you stop the apocalypse."
AN: The world stole an hour from me this morning and I was in a lazy and ridiculous mood, so I wrote this while I had my coffee
Castiel has the spell all set out. It manages to look like nothing threatening at all. Just a big bowl of water with some important herbs tossed in it. A collection of time and sight related symbols are etched around it.
Dean's eyeing it like it's about to do something horrible.
Sam thinks it looks like they might go bobbing for apples at any moment.
"So you're sure this thing will work?" Dean asks again. Which makes it about the fourth or maybe the fifth time.
"Yes," Castiel says quietly. "When it's complete, Sam will be able to see what's happening two years in the future. Hopefully learning something that will help you stop the apocalypse."
"But he won't be able to do anything." That's the part Dean doesn't seem to like. It's kind of understandable, Sam guesses.
Since time travelling hasn't exactly gone well for them so far.
Castiel shakes his head.
"He will be an observer, nothing more."
"And you're sure he can't get hurt?" Dean's been fidgeting ever since Castiel set the whole thing up. Sam thinks maybe he's afraid that nothing will have changed. That the future will still be a mess of disease and despair. Or that it will be worse.
Sam knows Dean doesn't want to see that again. Which is why he's agreed to look this time. He's not exactly excited about it. But he's stepped up, standing between Castiel and the table they've set the spell up on. He's about as prepared as he can get. He's even prepared for it to be horrible. To face whatever demons might live in the future and not let them come between them.
"I'm very sure, Dean, Sam will remain here with us in all the ways that count."
"But he's not going to get lost out there." There's something fierce in Dean's voice, something tight that he's trying to hang on to. Like he's regretting letting Sam do this and he wants to demand to take the trip himself.
"No," Castiel reassures quietly. "He'll be drawn to a moment of strong emotional connection but he will not actually be there as such."
Sam's been ready for this for an hour now. Dean's the one that's stalling. Worry, or guilt, like he's afraid of what Sam might find. Of what he might see.
But it seems he's finally run out of things to say. So, Sam nods at Castiel. Who tips his head just slightly back in acknowledgement and slides his hand into the water. Sam takes a deep breath when the angel lifts his hand, dripping water everywhere, and places it over his eyes.
................................................................................................................
Sam's not entirely sure what wakes him up.
He's mostly still asleep. Three quarters asleep at least, leg thrown over the weight of someone else's, face mashed into an expanse of back which is stupidly warm but perfectly still. He thinks he's getting far too used to waking up like this. It's indulgent.
The quiet hush of voices turns into vibration, suggesting whoever he's laying on is probably talking. It's too big to be Dean or Castiel. Lucifer then.
"You don't sleep," Dean mutters quietly, in answer to a question Sam never heard.
"I'm currently investigating the merits of sleep," Lucifer protests. In that smooth, deep voice that suggests if anyone disturbs him he will be investigating the merits of making them regret it. Painfully.
Dean, who's never been able to resist poking a sleeping dragon in his life, grunts something unimpressed and the bed shifts, suggesting he's done something. The huff of amusement a second later, closely followed by the sharply indrawn, and complete unnecessary, breath from Lucifer, tells Sam he should probably be awake for this.
He very reluctantly open his eyes.
Dean's pushed close enough that his knee knocks against Sam's. He's shoved himself inelegantly and greedily into Lucifer's body like he has nothing better to do. He's hissing things against the devil's mouth that Sam can't hear, One hand pushed down between them and shifting in a way that's lazy and familiar.
Sam's hand moves on the pillow over his head and finds the mess of Lucifer's hair. He drags his fingers backwards through it, which gets him a low purring growl that goes straight to his dick.
Dean's eyes flick up briefly to meet his, bright with amusement when he discovers Sam's awake, before he pushes in tighter against Lucifer and makes further sleep impossible by demanding one fierce biting kiss after another. Sam's hand fists in the devil's hair, body pressing in where it's draped over Lucifer's back and thighs, one hard instinctive push.
They're never gentle with each other and Sam can do nothing for a second but breathe and watch them kiss in reckless, almost angry pushes. Until there are slender fingers in Dean's hair, sliding and pulling at the barely there shortness of it. Tugging him away from the devil's mouth with a loose wet sound.
"Cas," Dean drawls out thickly, like the angel is something beautiful. Like he was just waiting for him.
"I think you should apologise for interrupting Lucifer’s investigation into sleep," Castiel says. His hair is a wreck and Sam suspects he was investigating sleep himself. Sam huffs amusement against Lucifer's neck. Castiel is fond of sleep.
Dean laughs with his head tipped back. A throaty wet noise that's all sex.
"How should I apologise?"
Castiel hums like he's thinking about it. Then he pushes with his fingers, eases Dean's head down, while the other hand smoothes down his back and leaving Dean no choice but to slide down the bed.
"Enthusiastically," Castiel says quietly. "And with your mouth."
Sam's noise of amusement turns into a noise of appreciation when Lucifer shifts to make room for his brother and Sam ends up curved exactly in the right place to leave him leaking brain cells and murmuring something greedy into impervious skin. He can't resist sliding a hand down, finding where Lucifer's still slippery enough to make the first push of Sam's fingers easy, and the second deep. He can't stop once he starts, pulling one rough noise of lust after another from Lucifer's throat.
The next time Sam looks up Castiel has a hand curled round the back of Dean's head, guiding him but not pushing him. Though Sam's fairly sure he wouldn’t mind a little pushing. That Dean wouldn’t object in the slightest if Lucifer wanted to fuck his mouth.
The soft, satisfied noise that escapes from Castiel is low and catches in his throat.
Sam grunts, because that's about as much as he can stand. He's already pushing at the weight of Lucifer's thigh, sliding it up over Dean's shoulder so he can get closer, so he can press up and inside him, in one solid push. One shivery slide of heat and greed that leaves him breathless and strung so tight and so desperate that blood roars in his ears. His shaky exhale ends up against Lucifer's ear. Castiel is drifting up the bed, finding Lucifer's hair and Sam's hand. Then the angels are kissing. Slow, strong, greedy kisses. Lucifer making rough noises like he wins and Castiel smothering them while his fingers tangle with Sam's, over and over.
A mess of puzzle pieces that shouldn't fit together.
But they've become pretty good at making this work.
.............................................................................................................................
"Sam?" Dean's voice is stiff and faraway. But it's tight, like he's been calling him for a long time.
Castiel's hand slides off Sam's face and he's abruptly back in the dim light of their motel room. Which is so surprising he almost falls down.
He sways a little and Castiel's other hand straightens him.
"Did it work?" Dean demands. "Did you see how we stop the apocalypse?"
Sam makes some sort of whimpery gargling noise in his throat.
"Sam?" Dean's face twists into something worried. Mouth a line of fierce tension.
Castiel slides into view as well. His concern is slightly less obvious than Dean's but it's still there.
"Oh God," Sam manages and it's like he'd forgotten how to breathe because he's suddenly dragging air like he spent the last ten minutes drowning. "Oh God."