Supernatural fic - "Walk With You In Dreams" (Part Five)
See the masterpost for summary, discliamer, and previous parts.
There were some hunts Dean came away from feeling bone-deep exhausted, and others left him wired. He realized in chagrin that when he was younger, the hunts were more apt to wire him than wear him out. Lately, the opposite seemed to be true.
Maybe it wasn't just age. He had a good incentive to sleep ever since the djinn's touch gave him a retreat, a place where his life was different. Where he had Carmen.
Always in the past, if Dean was keyed up and coasting on left-over adrenaline after a hunt, he found himself a willing woman to share the ride with him. He'd never had much trouble rustling up a partner for the night. But now, to be with the only woman with whom sex even sounded appealing, he had to sleep. So he did, and she was always there waiting to welcome him home.
But there were still days when he was wired instead of tired, and no matter how hard he willed it to take him, sleep was elusive. Carmen dancing like a mirage just out of his reach, and Dean a lost traveler dying of thirst.
Sharking bars for someone else to bleed of his excess adrenaline high was still an option, and there was always the possibility some brunette would catch his eye, but every day the idea seemed more and more… adulterous. The logical part of Dean's brain told him that was silly, but there it was.
So when Dean found himself practically vibrating after they dispatched a particularly tenacious poltergeist - when Dean knew sleep would be a dream in itself - he opted to go for a walk. He caught a glimpse of Sam looking at him like he'd announced his intention to audition for American Idol before he closed the motel room door behind him and marched briskly into the night.
He felt like he walked the block for hours in the moonlight, though he knew it couldn't have been anywhere near that, if only for the fact Sam would have already come looking for him.
He ached to go home.
Not since he was four did he have that yearning, but it was reborn in him, and it was a powerful sensation. As if his homing beacon were making up for all those years it lay broken inside him.
All Dean wanted was to go home, but the home he longed for wasn't real. Moments flared up where the one thing Dean wanted more than anything in the world was to hold Carmen in his arms… really hold her. He thought it telling how of all the people in the djinn's reality, the only one that still remained was Carmen. In his dreams, he never saw that other Sam. He never saw Jessica, as if the fire had never taken her life. He never saw his mother, who outlived their soft-ball-playing father. None of them. Only Carmen.
"Maybe you were the one in all that that I needed most, baby," Dean mumbled aloud, chest one tight ache, as he came back around to the front of the motel.
The Impala gleamed silver on black in the moonlight, an elegantly lying panther of a car, and Dean gravitated toward her because if there was anything he could call home in the waking world, it was that car. She wouldn't hold him, wouldn't throw an arm over him and nuzzle down to sleep, but Dean was down to taking whatever he could get.
So clearly, he could see Carmen leaning back against that car's driver's side door and looking up at him when she caught his movement from the corner of her eye. She beamed at him, bright even in the night, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him.
"About time you got back," she said huskily, "I've been waiting."
Dean moved toward her with fervor. The pent-up sexual energy he'd thought atrophied by the walk surged through him anew at the sight of her. He wanted her, needed her. Every inch of his skin, every muscle and bone, screamed for her. Carmen.
When he was in reach, Carmen reached out, fisted his jacket in her hands, and tugged him roughly into her. Her need and desire perfectly matched his. Their mouths met in a fervent clash of tongues and teeth.
Dean's hands tracked over her clothes, gripping through fabric to knead flesh beneath. His grip was bruising, but he couldn't stop. He figured he didn't need to when Carmen bit his bottom lip in equal passion.
Their hands began to push insistently at clothes, frantic for the rush of skin on skin. Dean's jacket, Carmen's shirt… in a blur of blindly clawing hands, piece by piece, their clothes fell to the asphalt of the parking lot. It happened so suddenly, lost in the urgency of their kissing.
Dean pried his lips from hers. Carmen buried her face in the crook of his neck, kissing and nipping at his skin. Dean groaned, his senses flared white hot, and he registered Carmen's hands diving down his undone pants and pulling him out. His hands went to her hips and encountered bare skin.
Nothing to keep them apart.
In one swift motion, Dean hooked his hands around the back of Carmen's legs and drew them up around him. Carmen eagerly wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands clinging to his back, her body pinned by his against the side of the Impala.
Without hesitation, without gentle easing or teasing, Dean buried himself inside her in one hard thrust. Carmen gasped his name, aroused and needy, in his ear. She groped at him, demanding more.
Dean gave it to her. In the open, in the middle of the night, against the Impala, he rocked into her, again and again. Carmen dropped her head back, panting, lips parted, hands clinging to his shoulders as he found it… what he'd been looking for all damn night. Fuck, maybe his whole damn life.
"Dean…" Carmen gasped. "Dean…!"
Dean drove into her, deliciously hard, there, peaking, crashing, filled with his love for her, filling her with it.
"Dean!"
Dean's body uncoiled and gave in to it.
"Dean?"
Dean's hands shot out and caught him just before he fell face-first into the car. He blinked, bewildered and confused. Everything changed in a heartbeat, one second the height of ecstasy, the next so much cold and emptiness that Dean wanted to scream.
"Dean?" Sam's voice, more worried than before.
Still dazed, Dean forced himself to look up, follow the voice, and saw Sam standing in the motel room doorway, looking out at his brother standing in the parking lot alone next to the car.
"What?" Dean barked in annoyance. He had been happy a second ago, damnit. He silently took stock, felt out the limits of his body that was still flush and taut with the rush of sex. He felt a familiar, sticky wetness in the crotch of his jeans, and he didn't even care that it had been years since he'd ejaculated while fully clothed, like some kind of hormonal teenager. It had been real. He could even swear he caught a scent of vanilla.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked, about to come over to Dean by the sound of his voice.
He couldn't let Sam get close enough to make out the fact his brother had all the tell-tale signs of a recent and thorough screw. "Fine!" he answered.
Sam didn't seem to like that answer, and he almost crossed the parking lot anyway, but mercifully Sam gave ground. "Okay… I was going to order in. What do you want for dinner?"
"Whatever you want," Dean replied.
"All right," Sam returned, paused, then went back into the motel room.
Dean looked away from the motel door, down into Carmen's laughing eyes as she stood framed between his arms as they braced his weight against the Impala. She was clothed now, but still just as guilty of their very public act as he.
She began to laugh out loud and lowered her face, forehead coming to rest against Dean's chest. Dean turned his face into her hair and breathed in deeply the smell of Carmen and vanilla. After a beat, he joined her laughter with his own.
***************************
The first time Carmen comes into his waking world, it's a jarring incursion. But only the first time. Then she's there to stay.
***************************
Part Six
There were some hunts Dean came away from feeling bone-deep exhausted, and others left him wired. He realized in chagrin that when he was younger, the hunts were more apt to wire him than wear him out. Lately, the opposite seemed to be true.
Maybe it wasn't just age. He had a good incentive to sleep ever since the djinn's touch gave him a retreat, a place where his life was different. Where he had Carmen.
Always in the past, if Dean was keyed up and coasting on left-over adrenaline after a hunt, he found himself a willing woman to share the ride with him. He'd never had much trouble rustling up a partner for the night. But now, to be with the only woman with whom sex even sounded appealing, he had to sleep. So he did, and she was always there waiting to welcome him home.
But there were still days when he was wired instead of tired, and no matter how hard he willed it to take him, sleep was elusive. Carmen dancing like a mirage just out of his reach, and Dean a lost traveler dying of thirst.
Sharking bars for someone else to bleed of his excess adrenaline high was still an option, and there was always the possibility some brunette would catch his eye, but every day the idea seemed more and more… adulterous. The logical part of Dean's brain told him that was silly, but there it was.
So when Dean found himself practically vibrating after they dispatched a particularly tenacious poltergeist - when Dean knew sleep would be a dream in itself - he opted to go for a walk. He caught a glimpse of Sam looking at him like he'd announced his intention to audition for American Idol before he closed the motel room door behind him and marched briskly into the night.
He felt like he walked the block for hours in the moonlight, though he knew it couldn't have been anywhere near that, if only for the fact Sam would have already come looking for him.
He ached to go home.
Not since he was four did he have that yearning, but it was reborn in him, and it was a powerful sensation. As if his homing beacon were making up for all those years it lay broken inside him.
All Dean wanted was to go home, but the home he longed for wasn't real. Moments flared up where the one thing Dean wanted more than anything in the world was to hold Carmen in his arms… really hold her. He thought it telling how of all the people in the djinn's reality, the only one that still remained was Carmen. In his dreams, he never saw that other Sam. He never saw Jessica, as if the fire had never taken her life. He never saw his mother, who outlived their soft-ball-playing father. None of them. Only Carmen.
"Maybe you were the one in all that that I needed most, baby," Dean mumbled aloud, chest one tight ache, as he came back around to the front of the motel.
The Impala gleamed silver on black in the moonlight, an elegantly lying panther of a car, and Dean gravitated toward her because if there was anything he could call home in the waking world, it was that car. She wouldn't hold him, wouldn't throw an arm over him and nuzzle down to sleep, but Dean was down to taking whatever he could get.
So clearly, he could see Carmen leaning back against that car's driver's side door and looking up at him when she caught his movement from the corner of her eye. She beamed at him, bright even in the night, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him.
"About time you got back," she said huskily, "I've been waiting."
Dean moved toward her with fervor. The pent-up sexual energy he'd thought atrophied by the walk surged through him anew at the sight of her. He wanted her, needed her. Every inch of his skin, every muscle and bone, screamed for her. Carmen.
When he was in reach, Carmen reached out, fisted his jacket in her hands, and tugged him roughly into her. Her need and desire perfectly matched his. Their mouths met in a fervent clash of tongues and teeth.
Dean's hands tracked over her clothes, gripping through fabric to knead flesh beneath. His grip was bruising, but he couldn't stop. He figured he didn't need to when Carmen bit his bottom lip in equal passion.
Their hands began to push insistently at clothes, frantic for the rush of skin on skin. Dean's jacket, Carmen's shirt… in a blur of blindly clawing hands, piece by piece, their clothes fell to the asphalt of the parking lot. It happened so suddenly, lost in the urgency of their kissing.
Dean pried his lips from hers. Carmen buried her face in the crook of his neck, kissing and nipping at his skin. Dean groaned, his senses flared white hot, and he registered Carmen's hands diving down his undone pants and pulling him out. His hands went to her hips and encountered bare skin.
Nothing to keep them apart.
In one swift motion, Dean hooked his hands around the back of Carmen's legs and drew them up around him. Carmen eagerly wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands clinging to his back, her body pinned by his against the side of the Impala.
Without hesitation, without gentle easing or teasing, Dean buried himself inside her in one hard thrust. Carmen gasped his name, aroused and needy, in his ear. She groped at him, demanding more.
Dean gave it to her. In the open, in the middle of the night, against the Impala, he rocked into her, again and again. Carmen dropped her head back, panting, lips parted, hands clinging to his shoulders as he found it… what he'd been looking for all damn night. Fuck, maybe his whole damn life.
"Dean…" Carmen gasped. "Dean…!"
Dean drove into her, deliciously hard, there, peaking, crashing, filled with his love for her, filling her with it.
"Dean!"
Dean's body uncoiled and gave in to it.
"Dean?"
Dean's hands shot out and caught him just before he fell face-first into the car. He blinked, bewildered and confused. Everything changed in a heartbeat, one second the height of ecstasy, the next so much cold and emptiness that Dean wanted to scream.
"Dean?" Sam's voice, more worried than before.
Still dazed, Dean forced himself to look up, follow the voice, and saw Sam standing in the motel room doorway, looking out at his brother standing in the parking lot alone next to the car.
"What?" Dean barked in annoyance. He had been happy a second ago, damnit. He silently took stock, felt out the limits of his body that was still flush and taut with the rush of sex. He felt a familiar, sticky wetness in the crotch of his jeans, and he didn't even care that it had been years since he'd ejaculated while fully clothed, like some kind of hormonal teenager. It had been real. He could even swear he caught a scent of vanilla.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked, about to come over to Dean by the sound of his voice.
He couldn't let Sam get close enough to make out the fact his brother had all the tell-tale signs of a recent and thorough screw. "Fine!" he answered.
Sam didn't seem to like that answer, and he almost crossed the parking lot anyway, but mercifully Sam gave ground. "Okay… I was going to order in. What do you want for dinner?"
"Whatever you want," Dean replied.
"All right," Sam returned, paused, then went back into the motel room.
Dean looked away from the motel door, down into Carmen's laughing eyes as she stood framed between his arms as they braced his weight against the Impala. She was clothed now, but still just as guilty of their very public act as he.
She began to laugh out loud and lowered her face, forehead coming to rest against Dean's chest. Dean turned his face into her hair and breathed in deeply the smell of Carmen and vanilla. After a beat, he joined her laughter with his own.
***************************
The first time Carmen comes into his waking world, it's a jarring incursion. But only the first time. Then she's there to stay.
***************************
Part Six