Fanfic - SPN: IDKMUIMY - Ch.9 - I Call and I Open for You
Title: I Didn't Know Me Until I Met You
Author: eboniorchid
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Chapter 9: I Call and I Open for You
[095.Thoughtful]
Sam called Dean the next afternoon to say he pretty much had all the banishment stuff in order, at least everything that he could find, and to get an update on where Dean and John were with constructing the full plan and whatever. He had not called to apologize, because he still thought he was pretty much in the right, and, thankfully, Dean didn't say anything about the whole issue with John and Sam not really being able to function in a room together without getting in each other's faces. Dean just asked about that blacksmith-mage that Sam knew through his Grigori contacts, because John wanted him to see if more magicked bullets could be made for the gun.
The idea was, even if these new bullets were less effective on their own, that maybe the power instilled in the gun itself would enhance the power that had been poured into the new bullets. It was a stretch, sure, but it was a solid idea, considering that if they got through this battle there was bound to be backlash from the clan and even under the best of scenarios, they'd still only have two bullets left when this battle was done.
It was dangerous using Grigori contacts for any action that might be considered anti-Grigori, but as far as Sam knew, this mage did his best to remain a neutral party, even while he supplied weaponry and other items to the highest bidder from any side of any conflict. The money wasn't really a problem, with Sam's investments, but Dean and John seemed to have issues with him paying for everything, so they intended to hustle up some funds to help with the cost. Sam tended to see this kind of behavior as needlessly prideful, but he was trying not to butt heads with John again. It just wasn't productive to fight at this point, even if Sam was right most of the time.
And actually, if Sam was honest with himself, he'd have to acknowledge that Dean's constant siding with John last night had hit a nerve. So he was trying to be cooperative today, because he really didn't want to get left in the dust when Dean decided to ride off into the sunset side-by-side with his hero-worshipped father.
But then Meg came home and Sam's conversation with Dean turned necessarily vague. Dean let him know, briefly, that he planned to run over to Salem to see about the new bullets and that John was heading one state over tonight to retrieve the book of runes they needed, so maybe Sam should, ya know, come over for a bit later. Sam replied with something about travel and libraries and maybe catching a movie later, then he said his goodbyes and hung up.
It wasn't that he was particularly in danger of Meg finding him out, but it was best to be as safe as they could be. She largely ignored him, though, preparing for her own plans for the evening. That was one thing about being so low on the totem pole that had its benefits right about now.
Everyone underestimated him.
They might punish him for overstepping his bounds sometimes, for being disrespectful, for not following direct orders in the exact way he'd been told to, but in general, no one seriously thought he was going to turn on them, and no one questioned how much time he spent with his new boyfriend. As long as he was keeping up with his familial responsibilities, none of his Grigori family seemed inclined to be especially suspicious of him. He had to admit that their tendency to believe that he wasn't much of a threat kind of irritated him, but then he had to remember that it was this same belief that had allowed him to fly under the radar for as long as he had.
---
When he went over to Dean's motel room late that night, Dean was already dressed for bed, his hair de-gelled from a shower, his t-shirt fresh from a brand new pack, and his ancient, but favorite, blue boxers barely covering the bits that might be considered inappropriate to flash around.
Sam must have been looking at him rather intensely, because the first thing Dean said after Sam came into the room was, "do you want me to … put some more clothes on or something?"
He was startled out of his gazing, looking up at Dean's eyes, then away and back with shake of his head. "No … no, I'm fine. Be comfortable. I'm gonna get comfortable myself in a minute. No worries."
"Okay." Dean shrugged and hopped up onto the nearest bed, folding his arms over his strong wide chest, while Sam stripped down to his tank and his own blue boxers, before sitting down on the inside edge of the second bed.
He wasn't watching the television, though, wasn't even facing that way. No, he was watching Dean.
Dean was gorgeous … and even though he seemed tired in a way that Sam hadn't seen since they'd found out the truth about their siblinghood, Sam couldn't deny that he wanted his brother, still wanted him, wanted him so bad that the ache in his cock couldn't hold a candle to the ache in his chest from not feeling the tangible proof of what they meant to each other.
They'd taken a hiatus on all the physical affection, mainly because Sam's family had kind of made him a basket case, but god did he want to wrap himself up in Dean's arms right now and try to remember what it felt like to be warm again, to feel good again, to know for a fact that he was wanted because of the person he was and not because of what his body could give. It was so painfully obvious now how much Dean cared about him, how much what they had was a hundred levels above just the sex, how much Dean and Kane had nothing in common, and how much he'd been out of his mind to just give up and give in to the idea that he should just let Kane run over his chance to have something beautiful for himself.
"I know I've been … weird lately … with you." Sam didn't really know how to start this conversation, but they needed to move past this block in the road, needed to tear it down and keep on walking together.
"You need time. I understand that." Dean hadn't turned to look at him, eyes numbly following the flickering on the screen.
Sam stood up and crossed the span of space between the beds to stand over and beside his brother. "We don't have time, Dean." He wasn't sure if he meant to say it that way, if he wanted it to sound like this was about urgency, because it wasn't, but his words just weren't coming to him the way that they should tonight.
"Doesn't matter." And Dean did turn to look up at him, then. "If you need time, then take all the time you need, Sam. I'm not going to ask you for something that you're not ready to give."
Sam reached down and bent to take Dean's face in his hands. "And that's exactly why I shouldn't have needed time in the first place."
He kissed Dean, then, and it was somehow gentle and aggressive at the same time. It said "let me lead" and "I care about you", and maybe Dean understood that, because he went along with it, followed him, let Sam mold Dean's mouth with his own. Then Sam let his hands slip down Dean's neck to trace over the broad angles of his shoulders and down his arms, thick with the corded muscle of a warrior. His fingers found their way to the bottom of Dean's shirt and he pulled it up and over Dean's head, not caring if a seam got torn. He wanted to see Dean, to feel him, to claim him. He reached for his own shirt ripping it up and over his head. He needed Dean to see him, to touch him, and claim him.
And it felt like that first night, only the bond was deeper, their movements more desperate yet still somehow more grounded. They'd found strength in each other since that night almost a year ago, but neither knew for sure if that strength would be enough to get them through the coming battle … together, in pieces, or at all.
Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12
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Author: eboniorchid
Full Header for the Series
Additional Series Info
Chapter 9: I Call and I Open for You
[095.Thoughtful]
Sam called Dean the next afternoon to say he pretty much had all the banishment stuff in order, at least everything that he could find, and to get an update on where Dean and John were with constructing the full plan and whatever. He had not called to apologize, because he still thought he was pretty much in the right, and, thankfully, Dean didn't say anything about the whole issue with John and Sam not really being able to function in a room together without getting in each other's faces. Dean just asked about that blacksmith-mage that Sam knew through his Grigori contacts, because John wanted him to see if more magicked bullets could be made for the gun.
The idea was, even if these new bullets were less effective on their own, that maybe the power instilled in the gun itself would enhance the power that had been poured into the new bullets. It was a stretch, sure, but it was a solid idea, considering that if they got through this battle there was bound to be backlash from the clan and even under the best of scenarios, they'd still only have two bullets left when this battle was done.
It was dangerous using Grigori contacts for any action that might be considered anti-Grigori, but as far as Sam knew, this mage did his best to remain a neutral party, even while he supplied weaponry and other items to the highest bidder from any side of any conflict. The money wasn't really a problem, with Sam's investments, but Dean and John seemed to have issues with him paying for everything, so they intended to hustle up some funds to help with the cost. Sam tended to see this kind of behavior as needlessly prideful, but he was trying not to butt heads with John again. It just wasn't productive to fight at this point, even if Sam was right most of the time.
And actually, if Sam was honest with himself, he'd have to acknowledge that Dean's constant siding with John last night had hit a nerve. So he was trying to be cooperative today, because he really didn't want to get left in the dust when Dean decided to ride off into the sunset side-by-side with his hero-worshipped father.
But then Meg came home and Sam's conversation with Dean turned necessarily vague. Dean let him know, briefly, that he planned to run over to Salem to see about the new bullets and that John was heading one state over tonight to retrieve the book of runes they needed, so maybe Sam should, ya know, come over for a bit later. Sam replied with something about travel and libraries and maybe catching a movie later, then he said his goodbyes and hung up.
It wasn't that he was particularly in danger of Meg finding him out, but it was best to be as safe as they could be. She largely ignored him, though, preparing for her own plans for the evening. That was one thing about being so low on the totem pole that had its benefits right about now.
Everyone underestimated him.
They might punish him for overstepping his bounds sometimes, for being disrespectful, for not following direct orders in the exact way he'd been told to, but in general, no one seriously thought he was going to turn on them, and no one questioned how much time he spent with his new boyfriend. As long as he was keeping up with his familial responsibilities, none of his Grigori family seemed inclined to be especially suspicious of him. He had to admit that their tendency to believe that he wasn't much of a threat kind of irritated him, but then he had to remember that it was this same belief that had allowed him to fly under the radar for as long as he had.
---
When he went over to Dean's motel room late that night, Dean was already dressed for bed, his hair de-gelled from a shower, his t-shirt fresh from a brand new pack, and his ancient, but favorite, blue boxers barely covering the bits that might be considered inappropriate to flash around.
Sam must have been looking at him rather intensely, because the first thing Dean said after Sam came into the room was, "do you want me to … put some more clothes on or something?"
He was startled out of his gazing, looking up at Dean's eyes, then away and back with shake of his head. "No … no, I'm fine. Be comfortable. I'm gonna get comfortable myself in a minute. No worries."
"Okay." Dean shrugged and hopped up onto the nearest bed, folding his arms over his strong wide chest, while Sam stripped down to his tank and his own blue boxers, before sitting down on the inside edge of the second bed.
He wasn't watching the television, though, wasn't even facing that way. No, he was watching Dean.
Dean was gorgeous … and even though he seemed tired in a way that Sam hadn't seen since they'd found out the truth about their siblinghood, Sam couldn't deny that he wanted his brother, still wanted him, wanted him so bad that the ache in his cock couldn't hold a candle to the ache in his chest from not feeling the tangible proof of what they meant to each other.
They'd taken a hiatus on all the physical affection, mainly because Sam's family had kind of made him a basket case, but god did he want to wrap himself up in Dean's arms right now and try to remember what it felt like to be warm again, to feel good again, to know for a fact that he was wanted because of the person he was and not because of what his body could give. It was so painfully obvious now how much Dean cared about him, how much what they had was a hundred levels above just the sex, how much Dean and Kane had nothing in common, and how much he'd been out of his mind to just give up and give in to the idea that he should just let Kane run over his chance to have something beautiful for himself.
"I know I've been … weird lately … with you." Sam didn't really know how to start this conversation, but they needed to move past this block in the road, needed to tear it down and keep on walking together.
"You need time. I understand that." Dean hadn't turned to look at him, eyes numbly following the flickering on the screen.
Sam stood up and crossed the span of space between the beds to stand over and beside his brother. "We don't have time, Dean." He wasn't sure if he meant to say it that way, if he wanted it to sound like this was about urgency, because it wasn't, but his words just weren't coming to him the way that they should tonight.
"Doesn't matter." And Dean did turn to look up at him, then. "If you need time, then take all the time you need, Sam. I'm not going to ask you for something that you're not ready to give."
Sam reached down and bent to take Dean's face in his hands. "And that's exactly why I shouldn't have needed time in the first place."
He kissed Dean, then, and it was somehow gentle and aggressive at the same time. It said "let me lead" and "I care about you", and maybe Dean understood that, because he went along with it, followed him, let Sam mold Dean's mouth with his own. Then Sam let his hands slip down Dean's neck to trace over the broad angles of his shoulders and down his arms, thick with the corded muscle of a warrior. His fingers found their way to the bottom of Dean's shirt and he pulled it up and over Dean's head, not caring if a seam got torn. He wanted to see Dean, to feel him, to claim him. He reached for his own shirt ripping it up and over his head. He needed Dean to see him, to touch him, and claim him.
And it felt like that first night, only the bond was deeper, their movements more desperate yet still somehow more grounded. They'd found strength in each other since that night almost a year ago, but neither knew for sure if that strength would be enough to get them through the coming battle … together, in pieces, or at all.
Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12
Back to the Table of Contents