Fear the Reaper
Title: Fear the Reaper
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1000
Disclaimer: Not my boys. Kripke broke them long before I ever got to them.
Summary: Death wants Dean to show him what being human is all about.
Death/Dean non-con-ish...yeah, idek. Musie is in a weird mood.
Okay, so technically this is set after Appointment in Samara, but it's not about that. It's not about much of anything as far as I can tell. I think it's vague enough that you can read it even if you haven't seen S6.
Fill for 'Character Death' on my angst_bingo card and no, interpreting the prompt this way isn't cheating at all. Nope, not even one bit.
He should have know. Why would making deals with the Grim Reaper be any better than selling your soul directly to hell?
Fucking stupid, rushing into the same mess all over again.
"I did you a favor, Dean." Death's voice is smooth and cold like always and Dean feels his spine straighten and freeze. "I can take it back in a heartbeat."
The voice quietly slams into the walls of Bobby's living room, clings to the shelves until the ancient, yellowing books starts shivering in the sudden cold. Dean's lips twitch open over clenched teeth. What difference would it make?, he wants to snark with a bitter glance towards the stairs.
Nothing's stirred down in the panic room for days.
"If it's all the same to you..." Death threatens with a curiously raised eyebrow, turns his back with a shrug.
Dean's hand shoots out to grab the sleeve of the horseman's suit. "Wait. Please."
Death makes a disapproving sound in the back of his throat and Dean yanks his hand back like it's been burned. He remembers Cas trying to threaten shit like that - I ripped you out, I can throw you back in, yaddayaddayadda - but this is Death, the Grim Reaper. He doesn't care and he doesn't need Dean's help. And he'll take Sammy back in a heartbeat.
"Being human sounds...interesting." Death tilts his head to the side, stares at Dean with his hard, bird-like eyes and Dean feels his heart jump into his throat as he wets his suddenly dry lips with a skittish tongue.
"It is," he rasps out, the words shivering against each other then his throat feels frozen and too-full all of a sudden.
Death takes a step closer and Dean leans back when his feet won't move even an inch. Taking an actual step backwards would be embarrassing. Disrespectful. Something.
"Teach me."
A wave of cold air brushes past Dean's face, not quite breath, because Death doesn't do breathing. The cold sends a shiver down Dean's back, up his spine, makes his eyes burn, like he's covered with a thin sheen of ice head to toe.
"Uh...teach you?"
"It only seems fitting, doesn't it? Quid pro quo."
Death gets even closer and now it's definitely past even Cas's level of personal space issues. Dean feels his face twitch reflexively.
"Do you remember when I told you how mankind was of no interest to me?"
Dean nods mutely, stares down into the cold, unblinking eyes that keep staring up at him, pinning him to the spot, burning all the way down into his soul. Think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table.
"I lied," Death murmurs, pushing his face up towards Dean's. "You fascinate me, the way you crawl around in the dirt. The pain? The fear? The ecstasy? The things you do? I'm very intrigued."
"Huh," Dean tries to draw in a calming breath, but the oxygen rushes right past his brain and his world zeros in on two perfectly round pools of swimming black. "I uh..you already know about pizza," he stammers, his back beginning to hurt from trying to lean further away. "so...beer. Beer would be next, I guess. Beer's very human...someho---ooow."
Suddenly the gap between them is closed completely, Death's wiry body pressed against Dean's, a bony hand pushing bruises into the inside of Dean's thigh.
"I'm not talking about beer, Dean."
Dean gapes, nods furiously as warm and cool fear shoot through his guts, trying to rip him apart from the inside. The hand traveles further upwards.
"I assume you're quite experienced," Death whispers, long, hooked nose pressed against Dean's and then without further warning Death's dry, cold lips are wrapped around his.
Dean tries to jerk his head back, but a hard hand on the back of his neck stops him before he can fully pull away. The hand between his legs that's pushing deep bruises into the fine line where his thigh melts into his groin tightens its hold until he can feel hard fingernails through the worn denim of his jeans.
He exhales in a panicky little squeak and feels Death's lips curl into a pleased smile against his stubbled chin.
Neither of them moves for the longest time except for the fine tremors that keep running over Dean's tense shoulders. He wants this to end. Every part of him screaming to push the cold body off of his and tell him something snarky and stupid, like at least by me a fuckin' drink first, but the horseman's threat is still fresh in his mind, so he stays put, forces his jaw to un-clench and open up for Death to take whatever he's gonna.
Nothing happens.
Teach me, the cold voice echos through Dean's mind, too clear to be nothing more than a memory.
Dean flicks his tongue left and right, tries to get rid of the mad, tingling feeling that has his entire body paralyzed with fear.
It's a lot like kissing a dead fish, Dean imagines. Cold and wet and without even the tiniest bit of participation.
Dean fights back the frantic hiccupy gasps that are trailing off inside the vast hollow that is the horseman's mouth.
His tongue stoops lower and suddenly Death is clumsily pushing back. Cold air gets pushed down Dean's throat, spreads further when Death's hand tightens its grip around Dean's balls for a second.
A shiver runs through Dean and suddenly his eyes flutter open and he's free again.
"Thank you," Death says, giving Dean the slightest of nods. "That's what I wanted to know. It's been very...instructive."
Dean nods tightly in acknowledgement, his breathing speeds up now, like his brain is only now catching up with what just happened.
Death picks up his leather bag and make his way for the door.
Dean swipes his tongue over the receding chill on his tingling lips and rushes into the panic room.
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 1000
Disclaimer: Not my boys. Kripke broke them long before I ever got to them.
Summary: Death wants Dean to show him what being human is all about.
Death/Dean non-con-ish...yeah, idek. Musie is in a weird mood.
Okay, so technically this is set after Appointment in Samara, but it's not about that. It's not about much of anything as far as I can tell. I think it's vague enough that you can read it even if you haven't seen S6.
Fill for 'Character Death' on my angst_bingo card and no, interpreting the prompt this way isn't cheating at all. Nope, not even one bit.
He should have know. Why would making deals with the Grim Reaper be any better than selling your soul directly to hell?
Fucking stupid, rushing into the same mess all over again.
"I did you a favor, Dean." Death's voice is smooth and cold like always and Dean feels his spine straighten and freeze. "I can take it back in a heartbeat."
The voice quietly slams into the walls of Bobby's living room, clings to the shelves until the ancient, yellowing books starts shivering in the sudden cold. Dean's lips twitch open over clenched teeth. What difference would it make?, he wants to snark with a bitter glance towards the stairs.
Nothing's stirred down in the panic room for days.
"If it's all the same to you..." Death threatens with a curiously raised eyebrow, turns his back with a shrug.
Dean's hand shoots out to grab the sleeve of the horseman's suit. "Wait. Please."
Death makes a disapproving sound in the back of his throat and Dean yanks his hand back like it's been burned. He remembers Cas trying to threaten shit like that - I ripped you out, I can throw you back in, yaddayaddayadda - but this is Death, the Grim Reaper. He doesn't care and he doesn't need Dean's help. And he'll take Sammy back in a heartbeat.
"Being human sounds...interesting." Death tilts his head to the side, stares at Dean with his hard, bird-like eyes and Dean feels his heart jump into his throat as he wets his suddenly dry lips with a skittish tongue.
"It is," he rasps out, the words shivering against each other then his throat feels frozen and too-full all of a sudden.
Death takes a step closer and Dean leans back when his feet won't move even an inch. Taking an actual step backwards would be embarrassing. Disrespectful. Something.
"Teach me."
A wave of cold air brushes past Dean's face, not quite breath, because Death doesn't do breathing. The cold sends a shiver down Dean's back, up his spine, makes his eyes burn, like he's covered with a thin sheen of ice head to toe.
"Uh...teach you?"
"It only seems fitting, doesn't it? Quid pro quo."
Death gets even closer and now it's definitely past even Cas's level of personal space issues. Dean feels his face twitch reflexively.
"Do you remember when I told you how mankind was of no interest to me?"
Dean nods mutely, stares down into the cold, unblinking eyes that keep staring up at him, pinning him to the spot, burning all the way down into his soul. Think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table.
"I lied," Death murmurs, pushing his face up towards Dean's. "You fascinate me, the way you crawl around in the dirt. The pain? The fear? The ecstasy? The things you do? I'm very intrigued."
"Huh," Dean tries to draw in a calming breath, but the oxygen rushes right past his brain and his world zeros in on two perfectly round pools of swimming black. "I uh..you already know about pizza," he stammers, his back beginning to hurt from trying to lean further away. "so...beer. Beer would be next, I guess. Beer's very human...someho---ooow."
Suddenly the gap between them is closed completely, Death's wiry body pressed against Dean's, a bony hand pushing bruises into the inside of Dean's thigh.
"I'm not talking about beer, Dean."
Dean gapes, nods furiously as warm and cool fear shoot through his guts, trying to rip him apart from the inside. The hand traveles further upwards.
"I assume you're quite experienced," Death whispers, long, hooked nose pressed against Dean's and then without further warning Death's dry, cold lips are wrapped around his.
Dean tries to jerk his head back, but a hard hand on the back of his neck stops him before he can fully pull away. The hand between his legs that's pushing deep bruises into the fine line where his thigh melts into his groin tightens its hold until he can feel hard fingernails through the worn denim of his jeans.
He exhales in a panicky little squeak and feels Death's lips curl into a pleased smile against his stubbled chin.
Neither of them moves for the longest time except for the fine tremors that keep running over Dean's tense shoulders. He wants this to end. Every part of him screaming to push the cold body off of his and tell him something snarky and stupid, like at least by me a fuckin' drink first, but the horseman's threat is still fresh in his mind, so he stays put, forces his jaw to un-clench and open up for Death to take whatever he's gonna.
Nothing happens.
Teach me, the cold voice echos through Dean's mind, too clear to be nothing more than a memory.
Dean flicks his tongue left and right, tries to get rid of the mad, tingling feeling that has his entire body paralyzed with fear.
It's a lot like kissing a dead fish, Dean imagines. Cold and wet and without even the tiniest bit of participation.
Dean fights back the frantic hiccupy gasps that are trailing off inside the vast hollow that is the horseman's mouth.
His tongue stoops lower and suddenly Death is clumsily pushing back. Cold air gets pushed down Dean's throat, spreads further when Death's hand tightens its grip around Dean's balls for a second.
A shiver runs through Dean and suddenly his eyes flutter open and he's free again.
"Thank you," Death says, giving Dean the slightest of nods. "That's what I wanted to know. It's been very...instructive."
Dean nods tightly in acknowledgement, his breathing speeds up now, like his brain is only now catching up with what just happened.
Death picks up his leather bag and make his way for the door.
Dean swipes his tongue over the receding chill on his tingling lips and rushes into the panic room.