Supernatural fic - "Walk With You In Dreams" (Part Eight)
See the masterpost for summary, disclaimer, and previous parts.
A day and a half out from Bobby's, Dean insisted that they stop for the night. Sam wanted to drive straight through, but Dean would have none of it. Sam pouted and fumed about Dean's decree for sleep, but in the end relented to Dean's concern for the safe operation of his precious car.
When they'd settled into the room for the night, ordered Chinese take-out, and unwound from the long hours on the road, Sam went from brooding and moody to inquisitive.
Oddly, Dean didn't mind. There was something validating about telling Sam all about Carmen. He talked like he was proud of her, because he was. Sam was disturbed as hell by how unbothered Dean was about having an 'imaginary girlfriend', but he and Carmen humored Sam like a tantrum-prone child. They let him think she wasn't real if it made him more manageable.
"So… she's here in the room right now?" Sam asked, pacing the floor with his arms crossed. Dean, seated at the small room table with his feet crossed on the nearest bed, looked across the room at Carmen sitting Indian-style on the other mattress, watching Sam fret with a patient, indulgent half-smile on her face. She met Dean's gaze and winked at him.
Dean smiled. "I told you, dude, she's always here."
"And this doesn't worry you?"
Dean resumed chasing the last noodles in the carry-out box with his spork. "Not really."
Sam threw his hands up, scrubbed his hands through his hair, and flopped down on the end of the bed on which Carmen sat. She jostled when he dropped his weight down on the bed and looked toward Dean. "Should we get our own room? Maybe I'm upsetting him."
Dean shrugged with one shoulder. "We can if you want. You know I won't protest the privacy." He grinned wolfishly at Carmen, who blushed.
Sam looked up, agog. "Are you actually just carrying on a conversation with her?"
Dean tossed aside the empty take-out carton. "I think you're over-reacting to all this, Sammy."
"ME?! I'm over-reacting?? Dean, you have an imaginary girlfriend."
Dean began to frown, something dark and unpleasant spreading from his chest outward.
"You get that she isn't real, don't you?" Sam pressed insistently.
Dean dropped his feet to the floor with a thud and sat up, leveling a sharp glare at Sam.
"Come on, man," Sam continued, "it's not like you ever lack for women. Why indulge this… fantasy? I might not love the women you sleep with indiscriminately, but at least they're -"
Dean didn't let Sam finish. Furious, he rose to his feet and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair.
"What -" Sam began, but Dean was already at the door.
"Shut up, Sam," he growled, then he looked past his brother to Carmen. "We don't have to listen to this. Let's go, baby."
Sam's jaw dropped. Carmen got off the bed and went to Dean. Together, she and Dean left the room.
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"You know he's just upset," Carmen said softly, reclined against the back door on the driver's side as she watched Dean closely in the dark while half-sprawled in the Impala's back seat, her knees crooked and her legs draped over Dean's lap. Dean, sitting low in the back seat behind the passenger seat, scowled.
They weren't far from the motel. Just far enough to be elsewhere. They'd go back. They both knew they would. They wouldn't ditch Sam like that, no matter how big a pain in the ass he was being. But for now, they wanted to be alone.
"Sammy gets that way," Dean grunted acknowledgment, idly running his hand up and down Carmen's shin. Her bare feet bounced ever so faintly in the lamplight of the nearest street post. It was a road little traveled… since parking, Dean and Carmen had not seen another car pass.
Carmen watched Dean with gentle, quiet patience. She knew when Dean needed to stew.
"I don't get why he begrudges me being happy," Dean groused. "Is that really asking so much? Can he be that selfish?"
Carmen shook her head. "It's not like that. Sam loves you; he wants you to be happy."
"He wants you to leave," he countered bitterly. Dean turned to look at Carmen. "The two are mutually exclusive, baby."
Carmen smiled softly. "I love you, too."
Dean's lips twitched, almost in a smile, and he scrunched down further in the bench seat. Carmen bent one leg and rested the sole of her foot on his knee. She looked up in thought, sighing. "Maybe he just doesn't know how to share you."
Dean looked thoughtfully at her. Carmen gave a shrug. Then she quirked one eyebrow. "Truth is, I don't share you very well, either."
Taken off guard for a second by the turn in conversation, Dean cocked his head at her in question. A slow grin spread over Carmen's face, and she let her eyes drop purposefully down his lazily sprawled body. Her glance was undeniably hungry and possessive.
Dean felt her gaze stir his groin instantly. His woes with Sam all but forgotten, Dean turned out from underneath her legs and fixed a lustful stare on her. Without taking her eyes off him, Carmen lost her shirt, dropping it to the floorboard. Dean quickly added his own to the collection. Carmen ditched her bra and Dean his shoes. It took some doing in the confines of the car, but their pants and underwear were shed. When they were both folded nude in the space of the back of the Impala, Carmen lay flat on the back seat and moved her legs to welcome him, one on either side of his hips.
Dean settled there between her thighs, his harbor, his home, his perfect place in the whole fucking world. He buried his face in the valley between her breasts, and Carmen threaded her fingers through his hair.
Dean kissed his way up her chest, nibbled delicately at her throat, found her mouth with his own. Carmen returned his kiss with matching passion. She arched her body toward his, and Dean almost whimpered. He wanted to be in her, but a tiny, scared part of him wanted to make this moment last.
A tiny part of him was afraid it could be the last.
Carmen kissed him deeply, heedless of his fear, mindful only of him. She bent her legs to frame his body with her thighs. She moved her body into his again, silently begging him to be inside her.
Dean drew fractionally away, shaking with the effort and dying to just let go and make love to her, but he fought the desire. He pulled his lips from hers and buried his head in the crook of her neck. Her hair was warm, soft, and touched with the ghost of vanilla. Dean put his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Don't leave me, Carmen… don't leave me."
Carmen reached down and gripped his buttocks, trying to pull him down on top of her. "I'm never leaving you. I love you."
"I love you, too," Dean croaked, and his back arched over her like a cat, tired of waiting for him to penetrate her and leading him to the rhythm they owned together. Dean clenched his eyes shut, desperate to make it last forever.
Carmen was having none of it. She snaked one hand between their bodies, blindly found him, and guided him to her opening. Before Dean could really resist, as if he really wanted to, she moved up against him and pressed him inside her.
He was done for, lost to her, and he gave up fighting and sank himself completely into her. Carmen moaned and writhed beneath him.
They moved together, slow and perfect. Carmen was a goddess in the light of the street lamp, too beautiful for everything around her, but there she lay giving herself to Dean. Not since the Greeks had a mortal man known such divine ecstasy with a deity come to the world.
Dean filled all his senses with her. Made her a universe all her own for him to know. He loved her, every last inch of her, wanted to hold her forever. He wanted to leave with her, take her somewhere safe, and protect her for anyone who wanted to harm her.
He shuddered as the moment began to unravel along with his control. His body rallied, readied itself to explode, and Carmen knew. Carmen always knew. She began pushing back against him harder, faster, panting his name, and somewhere 'Dean' bled into 'iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou'.
Dean came with a deep thrust and a cry torn from his throat. Carmen flung her arms around him, clutched him tightly to her as his body locked, expending itself in one glorious burst. Carmen gasped, "oh, god," and Dean found that fantastically ironic.
Spent, Dean sagged loosely on top of Carmen, still cradled between her legs, still buried deep inside her. Carmen curled around him, using arms and legs to embrace him, and held his sweaty head to her chest.
Dean brought his hands up and closed his fingers around her forearms. Just in case she tried letting him go.
Carmen kissed his hair. "Don't let me go," she said softly.
Dean's grip turned fierce.
They lay like that for a while, recovering their strength and reveling in being tangled with each other. It was wonderful, but they eventually had to move. They had to go back. They couldn't and wouldn't ditch Sam.
Dean fished his clothes off the floorboard, found an old shop rag beneath the seat, and thought absolutely nothing of the milky smear on the leather seat he had to wipe up.
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Part Nine
A day and a half out from Bobby's, Dean insisted that they stop for the night. Sam wanted to drive straight through, but Dean would have none of it. Sam pouted and fumed about Dean's decree for sleep, but in the end relented to Dean's concern for the safe operation of his precious car.
When they'd settled into the room for the night, ordered Chinese take-out, and unwound from the long hours on the road, Sam went from brooding and moody to inquisitive.
Oddly, Dean didn't mind. There was something validating about telling Sam all about Carmen. He talked like he was proud of her, because he was. Sam was disturbed as hell by how unbothered Dean was about having an 'imaginary girlfriend', but he and Carmen humored Sam like a tantrum-prone child. They let him think she wasn't real if it made him more manageable.
"So… she's here in the room right now?" Sam asked, pacing the floor with his arms crossed. Dean, seated at the small room table with his feet crossed on the nearest bed, looked across the room at Carmen sitting Indian-style on the other mattress, watching Sam fret with a patient, indulgent half-smile on her face. She met Dean's gaze and winked at him.
Dean smiled. "I told you, dude, she's always here."
"And this doesn't worry you?"
Dean resumed chasing the last noodles in the carry-out box with his spork. "Not really."
Sam threw his hands up, scrubbed his hands through his hair, and flopped down on the end of the bed on which Carmen sat. She jostled when he dropped his weight down on the bed and looked toward Dean. "Should we get our own room? Maybe I'm upsetting him."
Dean shrugged with one shoulder. "We can if you want. You know I won't protest the privacy." He grinned wolfishly at Carmen, who blushed.
Sam looked up, agog. "Are you actually just carrying on a conversation with her?"
Dean tossed aside the empty take-out carton. "I think you're over-reacting to all this, Sammy."
"ME?! I'm over-reacting?? Dean, you have an imaginary girlfriend."
Dean began to frown, something dark and unpleasant spreading from his chest outward.
"You get that she isn't real, don't you?" Sam pressed insistently.
Dean dropped his feet to the floor with a thud and sat up, leveling a sharp glare at Sam.
"Come on, man," Sam continued, "it's not like you ever lack for women. Why indulge this… fantasy? I might not love the women you sleep with indiscriminately, but at least they're -"
Dean didn't let Sam finish. Furious, he rose to his feet and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair.
"What -" Sam began, but Dean was already at the door.
"Shut up, Sam," he growled, then he looked past his brother to Carmen. "We don't have to listen to this. Let's go, baby."
Sam's jaw dropped. Carmen got off the bed and went to Dean. Together, she and Dean left the room.
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"You know he's just upset," Carmen said softly, reclined against the back door on the driver's side as she watched Dean closely in the dark while half-sprawled in the Impala's back seat, her knees crooked and her legs draped over Dean's lap. Dean, sitting low in the back seat behind the passenger seat, scowled.
They weren't far from the motel. Just far enough to be elsewhere. They'd go back. They both knew they would. They wouldn't ditch Sam like that, no matter how big a pain in the ass he was being. But for now, they wanted to be alone.
"Sammy gets that way," Dean grunted acknowledgment, idly running his hand up and down Carmen's shin. Her bare feet bounced ever so faintly in the lamplight of the nearest street post. It was a road little traveled… since parking, Dean and Carmen had not seen another car pass.
Carmen watched Dean with gentle, quiet patience. She knew when Dean needed to stew.
"I don't get why he begrudges me being happy," Dean groused. "Is that really asking so much? Can he be that selfish?"
Carmen shook her head. "It's not like that. Sam loves you; he wants you to be happy."
"He wants you to leave," he countered bitterly. Dean turned to look at Carmen. "The two are mutually exclusive, baby."
Carmen smiled softly. "I love you, too."
Dean's lips twitched, almost in a smile, and he scrunched down further in the bench seat. Carmen bent one leg and rested the sole of her foot on his knee. She looked up in thought, sighing. "Maybe he just doesn't know how to share you."
Dean looked thoughtfully at her. Carmen gave a shrug. Then she quirked one eyebrow. "Truth is, I don't share you very well, either."
Taken off guard for a second by the turn in conversation, Dean cocked his head at her in question. A slow grin spread over Carmen's face, and she let her eyes drop purposefully down his lazily sprawled body. Her glance was undeniably hungry and possessive.
Dean felt her gaze stir his groin instantly. His woes with Sam all but forgotten, Dean turned out from underneath her legs and fixed a lustful stare on her. Without taking her eyes off him, Carmen lost her shirt, dropping it to the floorboard. Dean quickly added his own to the collection. Carmen ditched her bra and Dean his shoes. It took some doing in the confines of the car, but their pants and underwear were shed. When they were both folded nude in the space of the back of the Impala, Carmen lay flat on the back seat and moved her legs to welcome him, one on either side of his hips.
Dean settled there between her thighs, his harbor, his home, his perfect place in the whole fucking world. He buried his face in the valley between her breasts, and Carmen threaded her fingers through his hair.
Dean kissed his way up her chest, nibbled delicately at her throat, found her mouth with his own. Carmen returned his kiss with matching passion. She arched her body toward his, and Dean almost whimpered. He wanted to be in her, but a tiny, scared part of him wanted to make this moment last.
A tiny part of him was afraid it could be the last.
Carmen kissed him deeply, heedless of his fear, mindful only of him. She bent her legs to frame his body with her thighs. She moved her body into his again, silently begging him to be inside her.
Dean drew fractionally away, shaking with the effort and dying to just let go and make love to her, but he fought the desire. He pulled his lips from hers and buried his head in the crook of her neck. Her hair was warm, soft, and touched with the ghost of vanilla. Dean put his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Don't leave me, Carmen… don't leave me."
Carmen reached down and gripped his buttocks, trying to pull him down on top of her. "I'm never leaving you. I love you."
"I love you, too," Dean croaked, and his back arched over her like a cat, tired of waiting for him to penetrate her and leading him to the rhythm they owned together. Dean clenched his eyes shut, desperate to make it last forever.
Carmen was having none of it. She snaked one hand between their bodies, blindly found him, and guided him to her opening. Before Dean could really resist, as if he really wanted to, she moved up against him and pressed him inside her.
He was done for, lost to her, and he gave up fighting and sank himself completely into her. Carmen moaned and writhed beneath him.
They moved together, slow and perfect. Carmen was a goddess in the light of the street lamp, too beautiful for everything around her, but there she lay giving herself to Dean. Not since the Greeks had a mortal man known such divine ecstasy with a deity come to the world.
Dean filled all his senses with her. Made her a universe all her own for him to know. He loved her, every last inch of her, wanted to hold her forever. He wanted to leave with her, take her somewhere safe, and protect her for anyone who wanted to harm her.
He shuddered as the moment began to unravel along with his control. His body rallied, readied itself to explode, and Carmen knew. Carmen always knew. She began pushing back against him harder, faster, panting his name, and somewhere 'Dean' bled into 'iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou'.
Dean came with a deep thrust and a cry torn from his throat. Carmen flung her arms around him, clutched him tightly to her as his body locked, expending itself in one glorious burst. Carmen gasped, "oh, god," and Dean found that fantastically ironic.
Spent, Dean sagged loosely on top of Carmen, still cradled between her legs, still buried deep inside her. Carmen curled around him, using arms and legs to embrace him, and held his sweaty head to her chest.
Dean brought his hands up and closed his fingers around her forearms. Just in case she tried letting him go.
Carmen kissed his hair. "Don't let me go," she said softly.
Dean's grip turned fierce.
They lay like that for a while, recovering their strength and reveling in being tangled with each other. It was wonderful, but they eventually had to move. They had to go back. They couldn't and wouldn't ditch Sam.
Dean fished his clothes off the floorboard, found an old shop rag beneath the seat, and thought absolutely nothing of the milky smear on the leather seat he had to wipe up.
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Part Nine