#sam trying in vain to pass on his interests to jack

[shallowseeker]

Sigh.

I... I think Sam must have fan-boyed to Jack about Gandhi.

14x01

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5x05

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Jack's brain: Ah, yes. Maybe Gandhi was a boxer.

...

And then Jack winds up with a stuffed bear based on a BOXER instead.

[erule]

Summary: it’s the reader’s birthday and Dean, her boyfriend, has a surprise for her. There are also Sam, Cas and Jack in this story.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Word Count: 1710

A/N: tomorrow’s my birthday, so I thought to write something cute and extremely fluffy to celebrate it! The sentence down here is from the song called Fine Line by Harry Styles, that inspired me to write this.

Story under the cut!

“𝑷𝒖𝒕 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝑰'𝒎 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 ����𝒖𝒚”.

The bunker was quiet that morning.

She got up with a sense of fear, because usually she could hear Sam and Dean discussing about some case, with the noise of something burned getting inside her nose. She went to the kitchen, they weren’t there. Yeah, that was strange, because the always told her if they went out, even with a text, but this time, nothing. So, she tried to pray Castiel, wondering if Jack was with him on a case of if they were with the Winchesters, but he didn’t answer either. Very strange. Castiel always answered. He even appeared to her while she was fighting with Dean about something once.

Anyway, after the fact that no one had answered her calls and having searched for them likeanywhere in the bunker, she went out. The weather was cold and she only wore Dean’s usual t-shirt, therefore she was freezing to death. But well, here we were.

«Took you long enough, uh?» Dean said with a smile, arms crossed and back leaning against Baby.

«Are you crazy? I was worried about you!» she yelled.

«I am worried about you, since you’re half naked and not in our bed!» he replied, taking off his jacket to cover her shoulders. «Could you please get dressed?»

«Could you please explain to me what you have in mind? And were are the others? Did you kill them?»

Dean chuckled.

«Not yet. Look, I just have a surprise for you. Don’t ask and put something nice on.»

«Like a smile?»

«Like a dress» Dean said.

«Fine. Only for you.»

«Thank you very much.»

Here’s what she did: she took off Dean’s clothes, let her nose get drunk on his perfume for a moment and then got dressed. She wore a cute, simple red dress and a pair of sneakers. She wasn’t used to wearing elegant clothes as she went hunting every day, but she wasn’t the type who liked them either. Besides, Dean didn’t say they were going to the opera! By the way, who knows what he had invented… all that mystery was putting a great curiosity on her.

What she knew about Dean was this: he was a caring boyfriend. Sure, in his own way, but he was. He wasn’t someone who liked to talk about their feelings or put a label on their relationship, but she knew he cared and that was enough. She could see it when he glanced at her during a fight with a monster to see if she needed help; she could see it from small gestures, like when he brushed her thigh under the table just to understand if she was okay or uncomfortable; she could see it from his smile when she kissed him in the morning before going to get breakfast for everyone while he remained happy in bed. He appreciated her. Most people don’t do that, but he did. He always cared, even they fought, because she knew that his way to treat her bad after an argument was his way to say that he was hurt because he cared about her. Dean was a man of acts, not words.

«Y/N, are you ready?»

«Yes, babe!»

She got in the car and looked in front of her, thinking about what he could have thought: a pic-nic? A trip to nowhere? A trip to somewhere? The beach? No, it was Autumn, that ws not possibile.

«You’re wondering where we’re going, aren’t you?» he asked with a grin on his face. Stupid adorable Dean’s face.

«You know me.»

«Sweetheart, I promise you’ll love it.»

«I have no doubt about that, I’m just curious» she replied, but the curiosity was killing her from the inside.

Dean smiled.

«You’ll see.»

At first, Y/N didn’t get what he was doing. She looked at him extremely suspicious, while he was telling her about the resolution of a some old case with Sam. She nodded, still thinking, but well, it didn’t take Dean too long to make her laugh and distract her from her plan. She immediately responded, reminding him of that time in which she had to save him from a witch who was very much intrigued by him, but she was jealous she just knew something was off. That was the time before the case in which she almost got killed and Dean declared his eternal love for her.

«I remember very well I just said: I feel something for you, Y/N» Dean replied.

«No, you didn’t.»

And then, he kissed her and she, three years later, didn’t recall a better memory than that.

And so they arrived. Y/N got out of the car and when she stepped on the ground, she couldn’t believe her eyes.

«Dean, are you serious?»

«What ever made you believe otherwise?»

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, trying in vain to hold back her tears. Here’s what Dean had done: he had asked everyone to go out and not answer her because he wanted her to join him outside the bunker, then they had traveled by the car for a couple of hours, eating something for breakfast, laughing and talking about everything. All of that just to take her there, on that hill where he had told her he loved her for the first time, to watch the sunset together. He had confused her ideas because they had walked streets after streets, without her realizing that they were not really going anywhere, because they had to go back in the end, since that place was not very far from the bunker. And so, in the end, his gift to her was his time.

«You’re such a romantic man, Dean Winchester» she said, putting her arms around his neck with sweetness.

«Sometimes» he replied, smiling while looking away.

«You know, I remember when you admitted you were head over heels for me, here.»

Dean open his mouth in disbelief.

«Me? You were so desperate for a kiss from me!» he said and Y/N laughed.

«Not true at all!»

It ended up with Dean tickling her until she declared she couldn’t take it anymore, so they sat and watched the sun die behind the skyline of the city in the distance.

She rested her head on Dean’s arm, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a kiss on the temple. He’d given her the one thing no one could buy: his time, the same time they hadn’t had for weeks because they’d been busy with cases. She could never be grateful enough for that.

«The others are waiting for us at home. Tell me when you want us to go back.»

Y/N closed her eyes.

«Never.»

Dean laughed.

«You can always bribe me with a slice of cake or a kiss, you know. I would prefer cake just because I’m hungry.»

She laughed.

«I bribe you with both, my love» she replied, giving him immediately a kiss.

She took his face in her hands as they fell with their backs against the grass, letting her legs intertwine with Dean’s, slipping into a whirlwind of warmth, sweetness and passion at the same time.

They didn’t notice the time that passed. They only realized they were late when Castiel called them worried about where they were, because he, Sam and Jack were waiting for them at the bunker. At that point, they had to get up and go back, but not before they had bought something for dinner.

Once home, Y/N started to enter, but Dean stopped her at the door.

«Hey, I wasn’t completely honest with you before» Dean said, taking her hand. She looked at him, confused. «You know I don’t like chick flick moments, but today is your day, so I’ll make an effort. I just want to tell you that I need you in my life and I think this pretty much sums up how I feel about you.»

Her bottom lip trembled. She felt her eyes burning, but she didn’t cry. She just breathed out and then hugged him so tight her chuckles became white.

«Thank you.»

Dean caressed her hair.

«Yeah. Now we have to go, cherry pie.»

Y/N composed herself and then they entered in the bunker. The lights were off, but they were turned on when Sam, Cas and Jack screamed Happy birthday! Y/N was astonished.

«Oh guys, you didn’t have to bother!»

«You’re joking, right?» Sam asked, while running to her in order to hug her. «Happy birthday, Y/N.»

«Thanks, Sam» she replied. «And there was the pie!» she said, looking at Dean, that was caught while he was looking at it so greedily. «You don’t even look at me like that!»

Sam laughed.

Then, they finally had the chance to chat and celebrate her birthday properly. For once, there was no day that was bleeding or someone who got hurt. It was just the five of them, a family, enjoying a special moment. She looked at Dean, across the table, who was laughing out loud at Sam’s jokes and thought she was grateful for all she had.

Before going to sleep, Y/N sat down on the bed he shared with Dean, his shirt back on and her arms wrapped around her knees. She watched him enter the room and look at her in confusion.

«What’s wrong? Do I still have some cake on my face?»

«No, you just look happy. I had missed it.»

Dean took a seat next to her on the bed.

«Do you know what I like about you? That after five years of being together you always look at me as if I were the most beautiful miracle that has ever happened to you. I wish you could see it» he said, with so much light in his eyes.

«And I would like you to know how much I appreciated the gift you gave me today. I can never repay you enough for this» she replied, putting her arms around his neck and caressing his hair.

«Are you sure? Because there is a very interesting way to do that…»

Y/N chuckled.

«I thought that it was my birthday, not yours.»

«Well, technically, midnight is long past now, sweetheart» Dean replied.

Y/N gave him a kiss on his lips.

«Let the party begin, then.»

[petrichoravellichor]

Can I please have a (platonic) Balthazar and Castiel in the prompt “-some dude with a megaphone is spewing homophopic crap outside the cafeteria and we’re both protesting him because the college is adamnant about his freedom of speech rights, make out with me to piss him off?”

Can I Get an Amen

Relationship: Balthazar & Cas (platonic)

Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Naomi (unnamed, but it’s her)

Rating: T

Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Balthazar POV, Bi-/Pansexual Balthazar, Slightly Hippie!Cas (like, a mixture of Endverse!Cas + Crazy!Cas), Bees, Homophobic Language (which gets shut the fuck down), Very Exaggerated Make-Out Session Between Friends (to piss off a homophobe, so it’s for a good cause)

(Ao3)

*****

When Sam’s alarm went off at seven a.m., Balthazar’s first thought upon jarring awake was that he was going to throw the bloody phone out the window. (He didn’t, because doing so would have required him to get up, but it was a near thing.) Balthazar had no idea what sort of cosmic fuck-up he’d committed in a previous life to get landed with a roommate for whom going for an early morning run beat out having a lie-in, but as he grumbled under his breath while Sam rose and dressed, he felt fairly certain that fate was having a laugh at his expense.

Sam, the bastard, found this all very amusing.

“You know,” Sam said mildly as he sat on the edge of his bed and did up his shoelaces, seemingly impervious to the death-glare Balthazar was giving him, “it wouldn’t kill you to get up a few hours before your first class. You don’t even have to exercise: you could just, like, read or get some extra studying in or something.”

Balthazar snorted. “I could, yes, but why on earth would I,” he said, stretching luxuriously beneath his sheets, “when I could just as easily stay in bed and dream of having a ménage à-whatever-French-for-twelve is?”

“Okay, one, it’s douze, and two, ew. Also, don’t even pretend like you could keep up with that many women.”

“Mm, bold of you to assume they were all women.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Anyway,” he said, standing, “I’m gonna go. Have fun dreaming about naked people.”

He left, and Balthazar promptly buried his head under his pillow, determined to fall back asleep. He gave up after half an hour of angry tossing and turning, rising in a huff and stomping over to his dresser. If he was doomed to be awake this early, then he might as well go down to the quad and fetch himself something caffeinated to drink.

Ten minutes later, he was trudging down the steps outside the dorm building and mulling over various forms of revenge—his current favorite consisted of tossing out one of Sam’s beloved running shoes, then watching with glee as Sam searched for it in vain—when he heard a voice from the lawn to his left:

“You’re up early.”

Balthazar turned and spotted his friend Cas, who was currently dressed in a loose-fitting shirt and sweats; he was barefoot, balancing on one leg with the other tucked up under him, palms pressed together, and was peering at Balthazar with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “I didn’t know you even existed before noon.”

Balthazar sighed. “Yes, well, annoying roommates with early alarms are annoying.”

“Ah.” Cas shifted into a different pose, placing both feet flat on the grass and raising his arms above his head. “And here I thought I’d finally convinced you to try yoga with me.”

“Cassie, the day I willingly twist myself into a pretzel while both clothed and sober is the day I forgive you for making me sit through three hours of that god-awful Titanic movie.”

“You’re just mad because you hate Celine Dion.”

“It’s not her I hate, it’s that bloody song! And furthermore,” Balthazar added, pointedly ignoring Cas’s snicker, “our dear Rose’s heart wouldn’t have had to go on if she’d just done a better job of making room for Jack on that piece of fucking debris.”

“It was a door.”

“It was a travesty, is what it was, and I’ll thank you to quit bringing it up. Now then,” he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the quad, “I’m going for a latte. Care to join me? Or have you still got to do your downward doggy-style or what have you?”

Cas rolled his eyes and reached for his sandals. “It’s downward dog, and no, I’m done.”

“Brilliant, you’re buying.”

They headed toward the quad, Cas talking animatedly about some new Save the Bees project he and a few others in the Environmental Club were hoping to kick off soon. Balthazar, who was busy trying to decide if he wanted a muffin or a scone with his latte, was only half listening, a decision he regretted when he heard Cas say, with a hint of smugness, “I knew I could count on you,” and, after a quick mental replay, realized that he’d just agreed to attend an all-day event that coming weekend. Fuck. He opened his mouth to give an excuse when a commotion ahead caught his attention.

A small crowd had gathered at the edge of the quad; as Balthazar and Cas neared, Balthazar saw that at its center was a middle-aged brunette woman dressed in formal clothing who was speaking into a megaphone:

“…TIME HAS COME TO RENOUNCE YOUR SINFUL LIFESTYLE AND REMEMBER THAT ONLY THROUGH GOD’S GRACE CAN YOU ENTER THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN, FOR THE BIBLE TELLS US THAT MAN SHALL NOT LIE WITH MEN AS HE DOES WITH WOMEN, THAT IT IS AN AB—”

“—SOLUTELY DELIGHTFUL WAY TO SPEND A FRIDAY NIGHT!” interjected Balthazar, causing the woman to pause and several heads to turn in their direction.

The woman lowered her megaphone. She looked from Balthazar to Cas and back again. “I am here to spread the Lord’s teachings to you and others like you, those who have been led astray by immoral temptations of the flesh. You should thank me.”

Balthazar let out a bitter laugh. “Thank you? What on earth for?”

The woman frowned. “I told you, I’m here to spread the Lord’s teachings—”

Balthazar cut her off. “You did, twice. Good for you.” He crossed his arms. “But, you see, we’re a litter-free campus, so it’d be lovely if you took your rubbish elsewhere.”

Several of the surrounding students cheered. The woman glanced around, seemingly unsure. “I have a permit. I’m allowed to be here.”

“We’re students,” said Cas. “We pay money to be here.” Even more people cheered. “And incidentally, the line you’re referring to, Leviticus 18:22, condemns pedophilia, not homosexuality.”

Balthazar turned to Cas. “What, really?”

“Yes. The original wording translates to ‘man shall not lie with young boys’.” Cas regarded the woman coolly. “Also, since you claim to concern yourself with the word of God, I’d check the tag on that suit. Leviticus 19:19 prohibits wearing garments that mix linen and wool.”

The woman pressed her lips together in a thin line. “I will not be lectured on my faith by a young man who has clearly lost his way.”

“I’m not lecturing you,” responded Cas. “I’m simply telling you what the Bible says.”

“You mock me.”

“You do that to yourself.”

The woman scowled, eyes boring into Cas. “There are places that can help you, programs that can teach you to make more Godly choices.”

“You’re referring to so-called conversion therapy,” said Cas, and though he was still speaking calmly, there was an edge to his voice that Balthazar rarely heard, “a practice that has been discredited by every leading expert on human sexuality for over two decades.”

“Despite what you think, it can be effective if you’re willing, if you want to be fixed—”

“We’re not broken,” said Cas. “Your beliefs are.”

“Now wait just a minute—”

“Oh, piss off!” snapped Balthazar. Cas might have had the patience to deal with this sort of thing uncaffeinated, but he most certainly did not. “Aren’t there more important things you could spend your energy bitching about? Take bees, for example: they’re dropping dead at an alarming rate, which could have frankly catastrophic effects on our food supply, but no, you’re right, let’s get all dressed up and tell gay people they’re going to hell because they have the audacity to be themselves, that’s clearly the bigger priority.”

Cas gave him a surprised smile. “You were listening about the bees.”

“Of course I was listening, I’m a wonderful friend like that. Speaking of,” said Balthazar, turning to Cas with a raised eyebrow, “fancy a friendly snog to piss off this hag?”

Cas thought a moment, then shrugged. “Why not?”

“That’s the spirit,” said Balthazar bracingly, grabbing a fistful of Cas’s shirt and pulling him in for a kiss.

There was no real heat to it—at the end of the day, Balthazar knew Cas was about as romantically interested in him as he was in Cas; that is to say, not at all—but in for a penny, in for a pound. Balthazar closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Cas’s shoulders, letting out an exaggerated moan; he could feel Cas practically shaking with suppressed laughter and gave him a very subtle pinch. Cas let out a muffled snort before gasping, “Oh, Balthazar!” in mock passion and pressing their lips more firmly together; he even groaned a bit, which at which point it was Balthazar’s turn to bite back a chuckle.

Thankfully, their tactic worked: the students around them erupted into applause, and scarcely five seconds had passed before the woman let out an affronted huff and stormed off. Once the sound of her heels had sufficiently faded, Balthazar cracked an eye open and, with the visual confirmation that she was gone, gave Cas a tap on the shoulder, stepping back with a grin. “Well, that went swimmingly, wouldn’t you say?”

Cas looked off in the direction the woman had gone. “It did seem to have the desired effect, although,” he added, lips twitching in a poorly concealed smirk as he reached into his pocket and produced a tube of organic lip balm, “you probably need this more than I do.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Oh, we’re giving post-snogging critiques, are we? Here, then.” He took the lip balm and, in exchange, held out a small tin of mints. “You absolutely need this more than I do.”

Cas snorted, accepting the mints and making a show of popping one into his mouth; Balthazar, for his part, applied a liberal amount of lip balm. “Right, then,” he said, smacking his lips together and pocketing the tube, “coffee?”

[ain-t-bovvered]

Epiphany 4

read first ACT 1 

EDIT:  @waywardbaby​

Summary: Less than two years later, you finally passed the men of letters’ initiation and, finally, you now set foot in America eager to be reunited with the Winchesters. But if Dean thought that you spent your days only with your nose in books and hands in monster’s guts, he was dead wrong. Your mission? Something that the British branch tried and failed miserably,  or at least that’s what they told you anyway.

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack

Warnings: slow burn guys…slow burn. Also, some fluff, humor, feels and angst

Legs starting to give in. 

Chest burning with every ragged breath you took.  

Blood pumping and buzzing in your ears. 

Everything was moving in slow-motion. Finally, you reached the doors of the barn, you and your team slamming against them.  They gave in easily but no one was prepared for the scene that was transpiring in front of your eyes. Tony was hanging from his wrists, bloody and unconscious, the glowing blue son of a bitch still feeding on him. You shuddered and bit down a whimper. While the other two took charge, you stayed behind, gun pointed, hands shaking.

This was not your first hunt but it was the first where you had to use a weapon and the first where one of your team’s members had been captured. You watched helplessly as the djinn struck down your colleagues and that was your cue. You raised the gun and fired.

One, two, three shots.

You missed the head all three times.

The Djinn laughed sickly and moved towards you, hand on your neck, slamming you back against the wall, the smell of Toni’s blood and of the straw all around you, assaulting your nose, sharply. The guns slipped from your sweaty grasp and your breath hitched in your throat when the thing brought its face up to yours. As its cold breath spread on your skin, you had time to see the others wasting no time getting Tony free.

The Djinn followed your gaze…

“Wait…!” 

You quickly turned its attention back to you, buying them time. 

“How about a deal, yeah?” You nodded slightly at your colleagues who nodded back and shifted toward the exit, “…my friend is a bit battered, huh? I’m fresh…just had a nice meal and I’m sure you can smell me.”

The tattooed, glowing monster looked at you interested and took a long sniff, slowly dragging its nose along the nape of your neck. And fuck, that was gross.

“Listen…how about I take his place?” 

You watched as your friends looked at you one last time before running out. “I mean, I know what you do, staying in a dream-like state in a beautiful fantasy sounds awesome. I’m tired of all of this, anyway” you said, trying to gesture with your arms. 

The creature looked at you suspiciously. “Your friends are gone and they left you here.”

“Yeah …I know…some friends right? And now you have no midnight snack …so, deal?”

The Djinn smiled viciously and pinned your hands over your head, licking your neck up to your ear. Yeah, scratch the previous notion. This was way worse, you thought, biting down a sound of disgust.

 “Yeah…” it said purring “... you could work too,”  he said tossing you on a pile of hay. Your stomach dropped.

Shit! Hell no!

You tried in vain to retrieve the knife you had hidden in your boot but the monster was faster and your arms were squeezed into a steady hold. You froze, a chilling wave of fear running inside you as your mind prepared to go to its happy place, and you could already see green eyes looking at you softly.

“Oh, don’t worry...” the djinn snarled, almost offended,“... I’m not going to lower myself like you humans do. Your disgusting bodies mean nothing to me. I just prefer…” it continued, dragging you by your wrist and hauling you up in Tony’s place, your body dangling a few inches off the ground “…my meal spicy. You see…. you humans have these little things called pheromones rushing in your blood when I craft a special kind of dream” he purred, lips sliding in the inside of your thigh, “... and they are just delightful”.

You squirmed again in repulsion. “Don’t worry, I’ve read your mind. You’ll love what I’ll create for you” and before you could feel the intense pain running down the inside of your thigh, you lost consciousness.

You re-opened your eyes, feeling drowsy, warm and snuggled. Stirring to stretch your limbs, you heard a muffled groan. 

Oh god! 

You tensed again and that caused another moan near your ear. Looking down you saw two muscular arms, clad in plaid, wrapped around you. Your legs were trapped and you tried to untangle them but the movement made your lower body rub against the warm one behind you. The body stirred, and you stopped breathing when an arm slid down and sneaked under your sweater grazing your skin. A big, warm, calloused hand drawing circles on your ribs. You whimpered as you registered ahead buried deep in your hair, soft warm whispers of breath brushing on your skin. The head nestled into your back, something hot and hard pressing into you, a leg brushing between yours, rubbing just in the right place and in the right angle. Your body arching into the touch without even a second thought.

You heard a groan and your eyes widened. Dean?

His breathing was shallow and regular. He was still sleeping. Was he…dreaming…  about you? What was that?...a dream…? But it felt too good. Too real. You gradually wriggled around, turning to face him. And boy, was that a vision. 

Wait..why is this so familiar? 

His hair was messy, sticking up all over the place, nose almost squashed in the pillow and his mouth slightly open. Golden sunlight danced on his skin, and you knew how warm it was, feeling his hands on you. Eyelids fluttering and lashes grazing his cheeks.  You could count all his freckles and lines, the temptation to trace them making you bite your lips.

The deja vu feeling settling in your heart, making you feel calm. Relaxed. You knew how this was going to go down and you were more than fine with it.

Gently brushing his eyebrow with your fingertips, you softly drove them through his hair. He exhaled and nuzzled his face deeper into the pillow, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. 

A smile threatened to break your own face and something pulled at your heart. In spite of everything else, you felt so comfortable that you thought you could easily let him smother you, right here and right now, falling asleep again.

Maybe …

No, you sighed.

With regret, you removed your hand, his face frowning at the loss, an emotion that intensified when you slowly traced his eyelashes with your finger. His eyes twitched, fast,  under the eyelids. You felt him awakening. He started moving his hand away, but it was too slow and in the wrong direction. It moved to the side instead and when his rough palm grazed against your nipple, the feeling aroused a stifled moan, your body, once again, arching involuntarily into his touch. You opened your eyes and looked into his.

“‘Morning” he beamed brightly at you and brought down his face to kiss you.

Your eyes widened, shocked. 

Wait! This… this was different. 

It was not what you remembered, but you responded enthusiastically, your entire body pressing against his.

“Hey…someone’s feeling frisky this morning huh?” he nuzzled your nose with his, chuckling low, as he embraced you, grazing your jaw with his lips, placing an open wet kiss in that perfect spot on your neck and you moaned clutching his- there was no shirt, his chest was bare.

Yes! Definitely different!

Actually ….he was completely naked. You pushed against him to look down at yourself.

“Why are you naked? Why am I naked? ”

“…so we don’t lose time in the morning to get out of our clothes,” he said hungrily, covering you with his perfect and very naked body. 

What the fuck was happening? 

“Wait …wait…shouldn’t we be looking for your brother?...and I have to go to school”

He looked up at you, stopping what he was doing, which was unfortunate because it was something spectacular.

“Gross, keep my brother out of our bed, and school...? Are you still sleeping?” his voice purred again before you could say anything, his head disappeared under the sheets and whatever you were going to say was quickly forgotten.

“Y/N?” Sam’s hand waved in front of your face and you blinked. “You okay? We lost you there for a bit”

“Err...sorry, where was I?” you asked, shaking your head

“You were telling us how you stupidly offered yourself as a Djin's midnight snack, zoned off right after that” Dean said, harshly.

“Ah…uhm…yes, anyway. That’s where I got the scar...” you let the phrase float there not really wanting to continue it. You saw the gears moving in Dean’s head and when it clicked, the look on his face made your blood freeze. Sam saw it too.

“Dean?” 

Dean’s stare was hard, jaw clenched. “She has a scar on the inside of her thigh,” he said without moving his eyes from yours and you wanted to look somewhere else so freaking bad. Sam’s brain got to the same conclusion as his brother’s and he almost looked at you in the same way. 

“Did -” he started gently, “Did the Djinn…?”

“NO!” you quickly said, raising your voice. “No…God, no. I - I thought it would but, no, never did.” They relaxed a bit. “The feeding scar is there because…” you blushed deeply “…because it liked the ...um, the blood...spiced up”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up and he cleared his throat “...Oh..!”

Dean looked at his brother.

 “What…?” Sam looked at him and then at you, looking anywhere but at them. “WHAT?” Dean repeated, impatiently.

“Dean…I don’t thin-” Sam tried to be considerate.

“…Horny!... Dean…he wanted my blood filled with horny hormones, so it made sure it gave  me plenty of ...fun.”

Covering half your red face with your hand, while Dean looked at you with his mouth open, you shot him a glare and he closed it. Clearing your throat you continued. “Um…ok, so I eventually realized that I was in the dream and knew what I needed to do, but waited so that the team would come back. I just lived the fantasy until I was free from it. And that’s why I don’t like to use guns when I need to be super accurate, ok?” you said in one breath.

“Still…Y/N, you need to learn,” Sam said concerned. “I… we… can help you. Dad taught us when we were just kids. We can teach you, too.”

“... I don’t know Sam…I like my crossbow…”

“If you want to hunt with us, you can’t always use that. When we go back to the bunker we are going straight to the shooting range” Dean interrupted you.

“Fine, “ you said crossing your arms and leaning back.  

“Don’t expect too much, though. Just a heads up there for ya!”

After Sam announced that he was going to the bathroom and to order another round, Dean stayed silent, drinking, until he looked up, his brow furrowed.

“Wait ...how did you know it was a dream?” 

Of course, Dean had to ask that! Of course!

“Because I knew,” you said trying to avoid to answer. 

Dean smiled smugly. “What was your fantasy about?”

“A lot of ...stuff.” 

“When did you realize?” he pressed.

“First day. The first day of the fantasy, which was probably faster in the real world.”

“How...?”

You blushed and rolling your eyes, “you really won’t stop annoying me about it, am I right?” 

The stupid smile he had on his face gave you the answer. Well, what the hell? It’s not like you were a teenager anymore.

“I knew because your brother was missing…kidnapped by a witch…” you said slowly, watching as it dawned on him, “... and you didn’t want to get out of bed…and off of me…” you said hiding behind your empty bottle as you fake drank from it.

You saw him poorly hide a pleased smile and you felt your face be on fire. “And what were we doing, exactly?” 

Oooh, you could just slap that smug face!

“Oh, I don’t know. What do you think?” you said, sarcastically.

“Was I good?” he said leaning in.

“...You were…very generous” you smiled anyway, remembering it.

Dean chuckled amused. “How much time passed before they rescued you?”

“Four or five days, I think. Probably a week or something” you shrugged.

Dean's face fell, “…you were that long in the Djinn’s fantasy?... How far you lived your dream?”

 “Oh my God!! Are you, freaking, kidding me? Again?” you huffed, rolling out of bed, Dean snoring peacefully beside you. You padded across the room that looked bigger than usual. The cries grew louder and you hoped that Sam wouldn’t wake up too. “Yeah, yeah I’m coming. Which of you started it this time? Huh?” the cries muffled, hearing your voice. “I know it was you,” you said as you picked up the infant girl. “Such a fussy one, took it all after your father, you know?”

You balanced her on one arm and picked up the other who stopped crying the moment he was in your other arm. The girl tried to latch on you, “I’ve just fed you two hours ago! You are definitely Dean’s spawn.” You sighed, sitting down on the armchair.

“I heard that!” Dean’s sleepy voice came from the bed. You heard him shifting and his steps coming closer. 

He stood in the doorway for a fraction of a second, his eyes glowing softly as he was taking in the image of his family. Realizing that you were trying to feed them, he left his spot and moving closer, bent down to kiss you. 

“They have your attitude, though,” he said, taking them from you so you could bare your chest and placing them back in your arms but not before making stupid ass faces at them, earning a fit of little giggles. 

“You can go back to sleep Dean, I got this.”

“If you can’t sleep, neither will I. We made these two troublemakers, we deal with them together,” he said massaging your shoulders from behind. Your eyes prickled watching him looking down at you and at them with such doting eyes, that you almost wished no one could come to your rescue. You hadn't even thought of this happening. Well, you had always wanted kids and that’s what the djinn gave you. 

The sick motherfucker.

All of this could end at any given moment and you were exhausted trying not to get too involved. But…how could you not? You loved them. They were your babies, fake ones sure. Dean’s too and they were going to disappear…any minute, now. This Dean was going to disappear, too. You choked out a sob watching them yawning with their tiny, little mouths.

“...What happened, why are you crying?” he asked, turning to look at your face.

“ I’m…I’m just so happy.” you lied. He embraced you and you breathed him in deeply. He smelled like you remembered but at the same time something was different, and you used that to not forget that this was just a dream. His hands traveled down your body and cupped your ass, lifting you up, you locked your legs behind him as he walked back to the bed where you both fell, his hands already reaching to undo the buttons of your pajamas shirt, his mouth hot on your neck. You desperately reached to grab the string of his sweater pants, pulling him down and you gasped in his mouth when you felt how much he wanted you. This was all fake, but….you really didn’t care right now. Your hips grinding, him groaning, you grabbed his head and lifted it to your face, kissing him deeply and pressing yourself against him with need. His bottom lip caught between yours, thrusting his hips into yours low and hard you moaned letting him go to whisper in his ear, “Dean Winchester, fuck me right now and don’t be gentle about it “.

He looked at you, eyes darker than you have ever seen, he smiled, “what’s this all of sudden?” he said getting rid of his shirt and pants and fuck yeah that’s hot, “not that I’m complaining, but..” he chuckled when you squirmed to get out of your underwear, “just wanna make sure” he helped you with that, throwing the pants somewhere behind him,“everything’s ok down here ? I mean... don’t want to hurt you “ he said kissing your hip-bone and slowly moving down.

“Dean…” you growled grabbing him by his hair.

His little throaty laughter vibrated against your skin “As you wish ….”

“Y/N!”

Caught daydreaming again!! Damn it!!

“…what happened in the dream?” Dean asked, sounding troubled.

“Nothing much. Why?”

“….you look like you are about to cry…”

You lifted your hand to touch your face, and sure as hell, it was hot and fat tears threatened to fall. 

“It’s ok really. Just got a little … carried away…” you said fiddling with your pendant.

“ …how long?”

“How long what?” Sam said putting down three new bottles between you two.

“How long, Y/N?!” Dean insisted.

Your eye twitched. Was it Dean’s mission to get under your skin? Because he, damn well sure was crawling under it real fast. Silently fighting with your eyes, you just knew that Dean wasn’t going to lose this one. Groaning, you arched your back on the chair before letting your head fall limp. 

“Almost two years …” you murmured.

“Two freaking years?!” he said shocked. “How far?” he added without thinking. You looked at him with hollow eyes, then up at Sam, and back at Dean.

“Long enough for Sam to... um...to become Uncle Sam.” 

Sam, who was still walking around the table to get to his chair, stumbled and kicked it. The noise of the furniture falling and rolling on the floor filled the heavy bubble of stunned silence around you. Your eyes steady on Dean, his face motionless, but his eyes… 

God…! His eyes were screaming.

His hand gripped the bottle, knuckles whitening and suddenly you couldn’t breathe.  “I- I need some air.” 

You slowly rose from your seat and took a few steps back. Dean’s eyes didn’t follow you. They seemed fixed on where you were seated before. Sam tried to follow you but a flick of your hand stopped him. “I’m okay. I’ve dealt with it. Just…” you didn’t say anything else and went out.

The table was silent, Sam was nervously looking at Dean who was still frozen in his seat.

“Dean…maybe you shoul-”

“-aby..” he whispered. “A friggin’ baby,” he said louder and Sam winced. “She –” he had to stop to calm himself, his fist slowly closing over his mouth.

“She was lucky the blue asshole was a dumbass.” 

He turned his eyes towards the door you had gone out through. 

“Damn kid!” he whispered, scrambling to get up and following after you.

The chilled air of the night filled your lungs as you took long breaths, calming yourself down. It’s not like it was a fresh wound. In the beginning, it had been hard to come back to reality. You had to physically mourn what you had lost, even as fake as it had been, but you were ok now. 

“Ouch!!” 

You slammed into someone’s chest as you turned to go back inside. 

“This is becoming a habit I don’t like,” you said rubbing your nose. You looked up and there was Dean. “Oh…um… hey!”

“Y/N ...” he began.

“Don’t! I’m ok! ” but you saw his expression. How he was trying to find the right thing to say and most obviously, failing. 

“I am, really!” 

So, he closed his mouth again, a fleeting shadow of pain registering in the green of his eyes. You didn't want this. It wasn't his fault. Laying a hand on his arm you tried to speak in a steady tone, “Ok, listen. I’ve dealt with it. It was difficult, nasty and rough and yes… I miss them, but that’s all they were…fake. And I’ve made peace with that. So let’s just drop this. You wanted to know about my scar, that’s the story. Now, can I just go back inside and drink my ass into oblivion? “.

His mouth opened and closed and then he babbled, “them?”

“…twins” you very quickly explained and grabbed his hand. “Come on, let's celebrate the hunt. Don’t forget, you have to buy me drinks” you said, glossing over his dumbstruck expression and dragging him inside. Sitting down, Sam had ordered something stronger, and if that ain’t the Winchester way… He looked at you and it was as if he said everything with his eyes and you smiled back.

“A - and then… I had this idea… listen to me!  You remember the light bomb of those British idiots, yeah? Well, I put that idea into darts. From that, I just did the same thing with whatever” you snorted into your glass, which was depressingly empty again. You looked around squinting, eyeing Sam’s still full glass, “so now we have witch killing darts, angel darts, demon trap darts, silver, iron and salt ones, vamps ones and so on…” 

You knew you were babbling, you could hear your own slurred words, your face felt hot. “I’m hot…” you mumbled, stretching languidly over the table. You heard their muffled chuckles and it reached your ears like cotton. Your chin came to rest lazily on your hand, watching them with glazed eyes.

“I think she's had enough Dean.”

Offended you scoffed at Sam, “What?...shh...” you leaned toward him, clumsily pushing your fingers on his lips missing the target and squashing his nose instead.  “Shhh Sam….” you giggled, patting his face, “Sam, shut up”

You touched your face. It was indeed hot. “Why is it so hot in here ?” You asked and stripped out of your flannel shirt and threw it in Dean’s face and while you had him blinded you snatched his glass and gulped it down.

“Hey, hey you…! Ok!! That’s enough, now.” Dean grinned, standing up and picking you up by the elbow.

You allowed him to lead you out of the bar and to the car, probably because you would have otherwise crawled there but they didn't need to know that. The fresh air of the night hit you right in the face like a punch to the stomach. Suddenly, your head spun and you stumbled forward.

“Woah!" Dean caught you before you could hit the ground.  Yeah, the whole escorting thing had been a great, fucking idea. Head was buzzing and he sure said something but fuck if you heard that.

Did you care, though? 

Yeah right… 

More importantly, there was a real, firm, warm chest against your cheek, his smell hugging you. Without thinking and definitely without realizing it, you nuzzled your face in it, arms sneaking around his torso, locking behind him. Next, you pressed yourself to him, closing your eyes and sighing contentedly.

“Dude, she’s trashed“ Sam chuckled. Dean tried to pry your hands away but you moaned in protest. He fished Baby’s keys from the pocket and threw them at Sam. “Really?...”

“What do you suggest, Sam…? Drive with her on my lap?” 

Sam shrugged almost wanting to see that, but Dean’s frown convinced him to stop even thinking about it and went around the car to the driver seat, sliding you in.

Dean started walking and that, you decided, you didn’t like at all so your arms went around his neck and you jumped up, crossing your legs around his waist.

“Son of a b-” 

He started to walk again with you, lazily, draped on him. “A monkey! I can’t free myself” he said, waving his arms at Sam.

“Just sit in the back, man. It’s not a long drive”

Feeling the shift of his body again you let yourself be maneuvered, settling on just being sitting across his lap, legs draped on the seat, nose nuzzling his neck, his short beard scratching your face, and your arms still hanging around his neck. You fell asleep lulled by his hand slowly drawing circles on your back.

“Don’t you fucking dare to puke all over me or Baby, you hear m-she fell asleep.” 

“She drank almost as much as us. I’m surprised she’s not been sick all over you.”  Sam looked in the rear mirror, at his brother, cradling your slumped form. “You know, Dean...that smile right there… That's something I haven’t seen since Lisa and Ben”

“Sam-”

“No, really! What’s the problem? She clearly likes you a lot - Dude! Don’t roll your eyes at me…you know Djinns read minds, remember?”

“Yes but...”

“She consciously stayed in that for 2 years, going as far as” he waved his hand, “ -that!. She could have escaped any minute and she stayed, knowing all of it was fake and that it would end at any given moment. If that’s not telling you something I don’t know what else can”

“But you..”

“I care about her, okay? But...” his eyes fell softly on you “... she reminds me of Charlie, sometimes”.

Dean stayed silent for a long moment, looking down at you while you mumbled something in your sleep.

“I can’t let what happened to Charlie happen to her….I can’t go through that again”

“I know that, but with or without us, she’s still going to do what she wants. You prefer she does that here, with us or back with her people on the other side of the world?” Dean didn’t answer. He leaned into the seat and closed his eyes.

Once at the motel, Sam helped his brother open your door and he called dibs on the shower, disappearing in their room. Dean sighed and closed the door behind him with his foot, carrying you. 

“You’re so hammered”  he chuckled.

“... mmnot “ you mumbled in the crook of his neck. You felt really, really good where you were. In fact, you didn’t want to stay anywhere else but there, wherever it was. Dean put one knee on the bed, mattress sinking under both your weight. As your body touched the cool sheets, you shivered and your hold on him tightened. Dean tried to pry your arms open.

“Come on. Be a good girl now, let go” he said softly in your ear.

“Bad choice of words...” chuckling drunkenly, you pulled down hard.

“Ooof…” Dean fell face flat on the pillow beside your head. He immediately shifted to get off but you kept him in place, burying your head in his neck. Yeah.... really loved that place, you thought.

“Mmm, stay” you mumbled, your lips grazed from the base of his neck to under his ear. He shivered against you, breath catching on his lips.

“Y/N…” he said, trying to free himself again. The bending of your knees kept him there and he sank down on you and shit that felt awesome. Your lips continued their path to his jaw. You felt him panicking over you and he propped up on his elbows. 

“What are you doing?… Hey, you ok?” he asked, searching your eyes.

“What do you think I'm doing? do I have to draw it for you?” giggling, you trapped his hips between your legs, and fuck yeah he groaned. He tried to say something but you stopped his mouth with yours, the thing you wanted to do since he first spoke to you the day you had arrived. He froze for just one second and then melted into it, sighing as the tip of your tongue swiped his bottom lip. Soon, his own lips moved enthusiastically in dominance and you didn’t protest. 

Not one bit. Especially, when he parted yours, deepening the kiss. His hand traveled up your sides, drawing your curves and sneaking under you, he lifted you against him, sliding you higher on the bed. You hands slipped under his many, too fucking many, layers and Jesus Christ his skin’s hot, your nails dug in it. Something like a grunt resounded in his chest, both his hands followed your example and sneaked under your top, his fingers digging. All of this while his mouth was paying attention to a particularly sweet spot under your jaw. You felt his eat shit grin after the filthy desperate sound you had made.

“Dean …” you breathed out, panting, not that you were calling to him. You just wanted to say his name, let it dance in the space between your lips, and on his skin, “Dean…” you whispered again. He stilled suddenly, like your voice had startled him, his head shot up and you were suddenly looking into his gorgeous eyes. His gorgeous, stormy, troubled eyes.

You lifted to kiss him but he pushed you down gently, protesting and you saw him smiling, bitterly. 

“What’s the matter?” you purred, trying to bring him down again, but he stopped your wrists, firmly, “…not like this…” he whispered, cupping your cheek with his hand and you looked at him with big, shiny eyes trying to focus. It seemed you couldn’t keep them open.

“Uhm, like what?” you mumbled, nuzzling your face in his palm, closing your eyes. He let you down on the pillow gently and stood up. He took off your boots and you curled on your side mumbling nonsense. He chuckled and covered you with one of the spare covers that were stored in the closet. Placing a glass of water on the bedside table, he sat beside you, watching you already be asleep.

As he caressed your hair, you smiled in your sleep. He kissed your forehead, lingering before switching off the lights and walking to the door, gazing at you again before closing it behind him.

Throat feeling like sandpaper, tongue so dry it hurt, you groaned at the pounding in your brain, that felt like a set of fists banging on the door.

“Y/N, wake up!!”

Funny, you thought, sinking even deeper into the pillow. Now, even your brain was talking to you. 

Two more bangs.

Ah shit! It was, indeed, the door. 

“It’s open” you croaked with your face deep in the pillow. The door opened with a nasty, and loud as fuck sound, the latter followed by a set of heavy, fucking footsteps which you felt all over your frontal lobe, you hid your head under the pillow.

“Ah no… Come on!! Time to go, Sleeping Beauty”

You felt hands tugging your pillow and your grip tightened when two sets of chuckles came from above you.

“Can you chuckle silently, please?” you hissed shifting away from the offending sound. The covers you were under were caught by something and suddenly your underwear covered ass was attacked by the crisp morning air. You heard two loud gasps, your own squeal, and your head cleared, just like that.

“Where are your pants?!?” you heard.

You sat on the mattress, stretched yawning, grimacing at whatever died in your mouth.

“Who the fuck sleeps with pants?” You rubbed your eyes and your vision cleared. The two brothers were turned around as if you were all living in the nineteenth century and seeing a woman in her underwear was a sin or something. Laughing, you threw the pillow at them, “It’s just underwear guys, come on!”

You jumped out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, leaving the boys awkwardly looking around the room.

“We brought you coffee. Figured you needed it.” Sam said. 

Your head popped out of the bathroom, the toothbrush hanging from your mouth and a brush in your bird nest hair. Your nose scrunched up eyeing the three tall paper cups.

“I told you she’d made that face,” Dean said grabbing one of them and sitting on the bed, picking up your pants and throwing them your way. You tried to say something, snarling back but you almost made the toothbrush fall.

After you were presentable enough and the lower part of your body covered in jeans, you heard your stomach growling in angry protest. 

“God, I need to eat something,” you said trying to lift Darcy’s case. When it slipped, Dean caught it in time and you saw he was trying to complain “…you don’t want me to get car sick …”

“... Let’s go get you breakfast”

That had been so easy!

“What can I get? What is the American breakfast cure for a hangover ??? “

“Green smoothie”   

“Bacon,” they said in unison.

“Bitch…gross” 

“Jerk!”

Your eyes rolled and you smiled behind the menu letting them bicker over nothing, like always. God, you had missed them. You had missed these moments. The HQ gave you unlimited time here, at least until you reached enough hunters. But the thought of going back made you anxious. You really didn’t want to go back and it’s been bugging you since you had arrived. The waiter came to take the orders and you decided on a fruit smoothie and some bacon and eggs. Dean went for pie and that was the obvious choice. You wondered if he could ever go for something else and Sam asked for a coffee refill.

“Hey cute accent, where you from? ”

“Huh?” you blinked confused when -you squinted your eyes, trying to read his tag- Mark, the diner-boy talked to you, completely ignoring Sam and Dean, “uh…what?”

“I've never seen you around here before. What are you doin’ after?” 

You tried babbling an answer, all flustered by this forward attempt at flirting.

“I… no.  I - I’m just… I was… I had a job…here”

As he was about to continue, the cook yelled at him. “Quit hitting on customers and give me the orders!” Mark winked at you and left.

“Wow…smooth, Y/N “ Sam snickered.

“…that was embarrassing… first thing in the morning…I can’t” you said, looking out the window, pouting. Dean stayed silent looking very intensely at his turned off cell phone.

“Anyway…” you said, grabbing the boys attention, “In the next few days, after the rest of my things have arrived, would it be okay if I asked you for some of your hunter  friends’ contacts?”

“Sure, why? “ Sam asked, grabbing Dean’s phone and turning it on, scrolling through the contacts.

“Well…I was thinking…  if it’s alright with you…” you swirled a lock of hair around your fingers “…that maybe I could …I don’t know…pay them a visit?...so I could start doing what I was sent here to do…” your voice became small.

“Err…” they started.

“...it’s a problem right?... I know, I hate this part, I sound like a saleswoman! Ugh!” your forehead met the table.

“No, no, Y/N! … it’s not that. You know…we, um…”

“American hunters don’t like being told how to do their job” Dean finished for Sam.

“Yeah….that”

“Oh ...but I’m not here to change that…”

“…yeah but still…they’ll be stubborn, and coarse and rude…” Dean chanted.

“Aaw Dean… are you worried about my feelings?” you extended your hand, touching his arm. “It’s ok! I can take a bit of hostility"

“That’s not w-”

“Here you go, guys!” Diner-boy put down the food and then leaned into you “sooo…you free tonight or you have to ask permission from your uncles here?” he asked nodding with head towards their direction but not actually looking at them. 

Well, that’s just rude, you thought snorting just a little bit, and you could see a vein throbbing on the side on Dean’s temple. 

“I’m sorry, how old do you think I am?” you asked leaning into him too. Dean twitched.

“I don’t know, my age, I guess.”

“And that’ll be…?”

“18…?”

You snorted, picked up your smoothie, wrapping your lips slowly around the straw and looking up at him while you took a sip.

“He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man. And he that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man…..” you smiled, straw caught between your teeth "…I am not for him.” He looked at you confused, trying to wrap his mind around what you said. Then his boss called him again and he went back to his work, the confused look most probably imprinted on his face for the days to come. 

“Quoting Shakespeare to scare the youths away now?” Dean chuckled pleased. You watched as Sam turned to look at his brother with raised eyebrows. 

“What ?... I read.” Dean shrugged.

The ride back was faster than you remembered. Mid-road you started to doze off, Dean lowered the music and you fell asleep lulled by Baby’s purr. The road for Dean seemed twice as long, his mind racing.

“I’ll talk to her once at the bunker” he whispered to Sam, who just smiled and looked out the window

[mattzerella-sticks]

What They Should Do... (An SPN spec fic)

So, Dean and Sam are tied up in the Alternate World just waiting. But... how do they pass their time? (AO3)

This was inspired by both the 13x10 promo and a nap dream I had after taking an Advil. This is how I think the writers could use the 'Wayward Sisters' episode as a backdoor to other things as well...

           Sam tries again to pull at the rope, its coarse fibers biting through his layers and into his skin. He could already feel his wrists starting to raw, but didn’t give up. Not like Dean, who he could barely see, slumped against the tree, head lolled off to the side in defeat.

           “If you don’t mind Sam,” he growls out, “I’d like to enjoy my last few moments without having to hear your Sasquatch grunts.”

           “Why don’t you shut up,” Sam hisses back, still struggling. Dean cranes his neck as far as he can and levels him with a glare.

           “Look,” Dean says, “we’re trapped in this weird Land that Time Forgot, with no food, no guns, and no way home. I’d rather we die now then later, alright?”

           “So you’re just gonna let yourself be eaten? That sounds awful.”

           “Not the way I expected to go,” Dean admits, “But seems pretty cool. I mean, who would believe we were killed by dinosaurs, Sammy?”

           “No one because we wouldn’t be able to tell anyone since no one knows where we are!”

           Dean huffs, “Why you always gotta be such a downer.”

           Sam thunks his head back into the tree and bites back a groaned curse. “Look,” Sam says, instead, “just… let me figure a way out of this before I die from an aneurysm, okay?”

           Sam keeps struggling, only managing to aggravate his skin to the point where he can feel tiny drops of blood oozing out of him. He doesn’t stop, however, furthering his search for a loose knot or something to help them out.

           “Sam… please,” Dean says, “It’s not… you think I haven’t tried?”

           Sam looks back at Dean, at where his hands are peaking out from behind the rope. Sam can see trails of Dean’s own blood, even in the weird blue glow, snaking their way down his hands.

           Sam feels his stomach give way, and he slumps against the rope, “…Crap.”

           “Yeah,” Dean nods, “A big whole freakin’ pile of it.”

           Sam doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing he can say. Any word he tries to think of, to make the situation seem not what it is, sits heavy on his tongue like a lie. He lets the silence linger, each rustle a warning of what’s to come.

           “You know,” Dean says, “I really wish it didn’t have to end like this.”

           “Me too, Dean,” Sam says, grimacing, “Me, too…”

           “And,” Dean continues, “If we are going down… I’m glad we’re doing it together.”

           “There’s no one I’d rather die with,” Sam chuckles, “…Again.”

           “Maybe we should do it differently, then.”

           “Dean, I think getting eaten by giant reptiles is different enough –“

           “No, I mean,” Dean says, “Let’s… go out with nothing between us.”

           “You mean –“

           “No secrets,” Dean frowns, “Everything out in the open.”

           Sam huffs a small laugh. “You sure you want to do that?”

           “What do you mean?”

           “I mean,” Sam explains, “you aren’t the first to open up in any situation.”

           “Hey!” Dean cries, “I can get pretty damned emotional!”

           “Sure, Dean…”

           “And I did say between us,” Dean huffs, “So I’m not the only one who’s holding things in.”

           Sam frowns, considering Dean’s statement. While he doesn’t want to say Dean’s right… there’s nothing except his pride keeping him from actually voicing this opinion.

           “Fine,” Sam relents, “Do you… wanna start?”

           “I guess…” Dean tries his best to look Sam in the eyes, but Sam can only really see one make contact. “So,” he continues, “I know I said it before but… I really am sorry I couldn’t be there for you with Mom.”

           “Dean, it’s okay –“

           “And even when we were with Jack and Kaia I… I didn’t think we were actually gonna find anything,” he says, “I thought we’d just find her…” He doesn’t finish.

           “Thank you, Dean,” Sam says, “And with me and Mom… I feel the same about you and Cas. I didn’t know how to approach… to even helpyou out of your funk. I was so wrapped up in Mom I didn’t think about how it must have felt for you to lose Cas.”

           “It’s okay, Sam,” Dean whispers, “Cas… wherever he is, he’s going to be fine without me… us. He’ll… he’ll find Jack and make sure he’s raised right.”

           Sam isn’t sure what he hears next. There’s a rustle from somewhere nearby, and it covers up what might have been a sniffle.

           “Anyway,” Dean chuckles, “I should also admit that… when you’re asleep… I cut your hair.”

           “You – what?”

           “Not a lot,” Dean admits, “Just enough that you wouldn’t notice it but still make a difference.”

           “Dean!” Sam shouts, “Is that the reason why I wake up to find hair on my pillow? I thought I was losing my hair! Do you know how much money I spent trying to prevent that?”

           “Hey, I promise I won’t do it again,” Dean says, “…not like I’ll be able to since… y’know.”

           Sam sighs, and lets go of the anger. “Fine,” he says, “Apology accepted. And if we are… owning up to things… You know how you like to keep bottles of liquor in your room.”

           “Yeah, and?”

           “Well… I water them down.”

           “You bitch,” Dean barks, “I thought I had developed a tolerance. Do you know how scared I was?”

           Sam manages a laugh. And after a while, Dean joins in, finding some levity in their situation. They don’t stop, letting the little things roll forward, avalanching in a final brotherly bonding moment.

           “I have a wig that I put on to act like you when I feel like venting.”

           “I replaced all the burgers in the fridge with those ‘fake meat’ patties… and you haven’t noticed the difference.”

           “Every time a girl asks me if you’re available I tell them you’re in a happily committed relationship with a blow-up doll.”

           “I’ve let stray dogs sleep in the backseat of the Impala when it rains so they stay dry.”

           “I… have a set of mix-tapes that aren’t classic rock. My favorite is the ABBA one.”

           “I haven’t jogged in over three years,” Sam wheezes, laughing, “I go out in the morning and just get a donut. I only pretend to make you feel bad.”

           “You’re a horrible person Sammy,” Dean scoffs, “Truly awful.”

           “You wanted the truth!” Sam stops to breathe, “You know… I’m glad we’re doing this. At least we’ll die smiling.”

           “Yeah…” Dean says, looking down at the ground. His mood has taken a turn, having subdued itself. Sam cocks a brow at Dean’s behavior, but doesn’t have time to consider just what’s the matter with Dean (besides the obvious) when he hears a louder-than-should-be rustle from the bushes to their right.

           “Sam, I –“

           “Shh, not now, Dean,” Sam hushes him, “I hear something.”

           “No, I… I really need to say this,” Dean continues.

           “Seriously, Dean, this is not the time!”

           There’s more rustling, and Sam can hear twigs snapping as whatever it is approaches closer and closer to them. Sam’s muscles are taut, his body thrumming with adrenaline as he tries in vain to pull his body free one last time.

           “Sam, I –“

           “Dean – !”

           “I like guys!”

           “There you are!”

           Sam blinks, staring first at Claire and her friend, who stand at the edge of the clearing, blades in hand, then at Dean.

           “What?”

           “Patience and I have been looking everywhere for you!” Claire continues, walking towards them, “This place is creepier than anything I could ever think up. We need to get you two out of here –“

           “No, hold on,” Sam stops them, craning his neck to get a better look at his brother, “Dean, what did you just say?”

           “Uh – Sam, is this really the time?” Dean mumbles out, a slight blush peeking out from behind his collar, “We could get eaten at any second!”

           “No, no we have time – did you say you like guys?”

           Now Claire and her friend – Patience – turn to Dean.

           “Dean said what now?” Claire asks, interest in this topic evident by her smirk and raised brow.

           “I didn’t say that!”

           “Then what did you say?”

           “I said I…” he mumbles now, incoherent.

           “You said what?”

           “I said I liked… guises.”

           “Guises?”

           “As in disguises,” Dean explains, “You know… like dressing up?”

           “Shocker,” Claire comments, walking towards him, “I doubt that’s what you said but, like, that doesn’t surprise anyone either, Dean.” She uses her blade to cut through the rope and free him. Patience does the same with Sam.

           “Whatever,” Dean scoffs, rubbing at his wrists, “Let’s just… do you have back-up?”

           “Jody and Donna are out here as well, we’re supposed to rendezvous back at the portal in the next half-hour.”

           “There’s another portal?” Sam asks, walking up to them.

           “Yeah,” Patience says, “Alex and Kaia are on the other side, waiting for us. They’re gonna try and close it after we come back.”

           “Well then what are we waiting for,” Dean claps both Sam and Claire on the back, “Let’s go.”

           “Dean –“

           “We’re not dying anymore, Sammy,” Dean stops him, frowning, pleading, “What happened between two trees in an alternate universe stays there.”

           Sam wants to fight him. But he knows when to fight his battles. And his brother’s sexuality is something he can put on the back burner until they’re back in their home universe and not stuck in Spielberg’s sandbox.

           “Lead the way,” he says to Claire.

           They trek out of the clearing, and back into danger.

            They’re in the Impala, close to home, and tired. Sam figures this is the perfect time to strike.

           “So,” he starts, “When you said you liked guises –“

           “Sam, can we not do this now –“

           “No, Dean, I just want to say,” Sam interrupts, remembering the script he created the second they pulled out of Jody’s drive way, “that it doesn’t matter to me – if you like to dress up, that is. You could be dressed in a t-shirt and jeans… or in a… costume; it wouldn’t change how I see you. You’d still be my brother, Dean.”

           Sam’s not watching Dean – direct eye contact would only frighten him back into his shell (or closet). But, if he were watching him, Sam would say that the relaxed posture, loose grip on the wheel, and smirk are signs that Dean understood his message.

           “…Thanks Sam,” he says, “Really.”

           “No problem.”

           And if Sam weren’t Dean’s brother, he’d leave it at that. But he can’t – which is why he follows his heartfelt message up with:

           “Hey Dean?”

           “…Yeah?”

           “So… if you like to dress up…”

           “Sam, please… drop it –”

           “If you were to pick really anything to wear –“

           “I swear I will stop this car”

           “Would you choose a trench coat?”

           The Impala skids to a halt, swerving to the side of the road. Sam barely has time to steady himself when Dean is pointing towards the door, “Get out.”  

           “Dean, come on –“

           “I told you I’d stop the car,” Dean frowns, “Now get out.”

           “You’re really gonna make me walk home?”

           “No,” Dean smirks now, “You can jog.”

[chicagoindiecritics]

New from Every Movie Has a Lesson by Don Shanahan: MOVIE REVIEW: The High Note

(Image: indiewire.com)

THE HIGH NOTE– 2 STARS

Matching what decades of movies and TV shows have characterized about personal assistants, cinematic commandments stipulate that Dakota Johnson’s character Maggie in The High Note must work for demanding and vain people and carry an clear-as-day inner ambition to seek her own fame. Those same narrative tendencies urge us to pooh-pooh the former and root for the latter. We are supposed to love that brand of “started from the bottom” underdog moxie. 

However, each time Maggie’s employers, the fictional world-renowned recording artist Grace Davis played by Blackish’s Tracee Ellis Ross and her manager Jack Robertson played by Ice Cube, summarily dismiss her to stay in her lane or fetch some inconsequential thing, The High Note gets better because the real talent is allowed to emerge. To love underdog moxie, or any moxie for that matter, you have to have it. The flimsy Dakota Johnson doesn’t. She, and the movie opening on VOD May 29th, would be better served by her getting out of the way just like her shunned and devalued Maggie.

You’ve seen this type working a gateway to a dream job. Maggie Sherwood is a fantasizer surrounded by those with more in superior clout. Daughter of a radio DJ (an extended cameo from Bill Pullman) she, with her beater classic car, fringe jacket, and old soul encyclopedic knowledge of the music industry, works as the tireless personal assistant to an 11-time Grammy-winning legend. Grace Davis is hitting middle age making easy money off of a live “greatest hits” album and its connected national tour. She is entertaining the prospect of a multi-year residency in Las Vegas, a bankable move brokered and pushed by the cranky Jack. 

LESSON #1: “WHEN THERE ARE NO SURPRISES, THEN WHO ARE YOU DOING IT FOR”— That line is ever-present realization Grace seeks to avoid.  Naturally, she is at a creative crossroads and has the itch to do something new. Behind the scenes and after work hours, the ambitious Maggie has been taking a deep remixing dive into Grace’s catalogue of hits. She feels like she has producing ideas better than the usual and forgettable scheduling and shopping advice of her typical job duties. Maggie urges Grace towards a new album with new material, a business surprise Jack and the circling army of marketing suits are against.

LESSON #2: THE ROLE OF A MUSIC PRODUCER— Pause for a second. Raise your hand if you know what a music producer does? According to this movie, you push a few buttons, slide a few levelers, tinker on a computer occasionally, nod to a beat when it suits you, and give some notes on an intercom while songs are being recorded. Instead of going off of The High Note, go look at the full job description instead and then marvel how Maggie could possibly hurdle all of the ladder rungs before her and do all of that. No one is buying the “seen enough to try” line, Miss Sherwood.

Press play. If only “urge” could be more “clamor.” Tracee Ellis Ross and Dakota Johnson are positioned in moments away from the mania and managers to have sincere conversations on music, legacies, arrogances, and aspirations meant to shift and forge each other’s confidences. Ross holds up her end. In those handful of scenes, she exudes the gravity of age and grace befitting her role. And when the lights are on and the crowd is loud, she’s even better. Johnson and her flatness cannot match that whatsoever. You follow her journey as the lead in The High Note and carry no rooting interest.

Where this movie finds its spark is where Maggie finds a coinkydink of a personal and professional one of her own. After a pick-up artist setup, the Sam Cooke-shining pipes of the unsigned David Cliff, played by white-hot emerging actor Kelvin Harrison Jr. of Waves and Luce, blow her synthesizers and her socks off. Maggie passes off her inexperienced chops and convinces the flirtatious David to let her improve and produce his original songs into a portfolio worthy of a new artist.

LESSON #3: THE SPINE OF A SONG— The most passionate this film gets is when the microphones are hot and the lyrics provided by music supervisor Linda Cohen are sung. The warmest the cold bucket of water that is Maggie gets is when she speaks of the internal heart rhythms that create the “spine of a song” more than hooks or beats. Life has to come out in art and that’s the headiest truth this movie can muster.

Go from pause to stop this time. Kelvin Harrison Jr. steals this entire movie. If all you have seen of Kelvin (and you need to) is his outstanding dramatic acting over the last few years, come marvel at his never-before-seen musical ability, honed by a youth spent with the Marsalis jazz family. Goodness gracious, this young man is special! Here he is at a mere 25, slaying choice parts, playing instruments, belting out harmonies, flooring us all, and rivaling both his idols and contemporaries for sheer talent. If Kelvin keeps this up, we’re going to be saying “Will who?,” “Jamie who?,” and “Denzel who?” someday. He’s that damn good already.  

Kelvin Harrison Jr. joins Tracee Ellis Ross as the true flair and excitement you want to watch in The High Note, directed by Late Night’s Nisha Ganatra from a reclaimed 2018 Black List screenplay by debuting writer Flora Greeson. Every time they step forward, the movie shines. Instead, their wattage is filtered through milquetoast tropes of stepping stone laments, sell-out pushback, forced romances, career lies, and small-world bow-tying conveniences you’ve seen too many times and in better places. With that kind of talent, diverse examples at that, present in front of Maggie (yet behind Dakota in billing), there was a stage primed for performing and exploring true individual and industry challenges, not those little bumps delivered through the lead’s uninspiring presence. Once again, Maggie (and Dakota), get out of the way. Give us the real potential power.

LOGO DESIGNED BY MEENTS ILLUSTRATED (#880)

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[rmoseley]

Jacked Part Three

I’ve been hunting with Sam and Dean for a year, we make a pretty badass team. I met their father too, he seemed nice until we found out he was possessed. Sam shot him with the colt, in the chest and the demon evacuated his system. He was still alive, we were on the road, discussing why Sam didn’t kill his father when a semi crashed into the side of the impala. Mine and Dean’s skulls cracked together and I was out. I woke up to Sam yelling for Dean. “S-Sam?” I looked around me I felt pain in my arm intense pain. Dean had his arms around me. He looked pretty bad. “Oh my god is he-” “I dunno.”

Sam said fighting against pain. I hurt all over. Tears rolled down my face when the medics came. I made it long enough to see Dean being loaded as. I was being wrapped up, my injuries where less sevear than Dean’s. He was hurt really bad, I woke up in a hospital bed. Screaming for Dean and Sam not knowing how or why I was there. The nurses came in and did a check on me and I limped all the way down to Dean’s room. He was in a coma, hooked up to a machine. He looked unburdened and innocent laying there. I started to cry, I had grown feelings for him. Strong feelings that I couldn’t quite explain. He made me feel nervous excited angry and happy all at once, he made me feel alive, more so than any hunt I had ever been on. “Dean, I don’t know if you can hear me. I hope you can,” I took a long shuddering breath to hold in a sob. “Why did you shove yourself in my place, why did you risk your life for me?” I said holding his hand. I made a vow to never leave his side.

I felt something brush my cheek. I looked up from praying to St Jude. Dean’s father sat with him for a little while saying nothing, he just stared at his dying son. Him and Sam had a falling out, resulting in a glass being shattered by no one uncertain. And then I saw nurses and a doctor running towards Dean’s room. A single word escaped my lips, a breathless whisper. “No…” I ran with Sam to see Dean flat lining. I stared at the scene, I watched the doctors frantically try to save him I watched the nurses fly around the room, I held onto Sam’s Jacket for support. I held onto it to keep me grounded while my other hand covered my mouth. And then Dean came back. I was still holding onto Sam when we walked down the hall. I finally let go and let my head slump back against the wall behind a chair that I was in. ‘You are going to get it when you wake up Winchester’ I thought. I was waiting for Sam to get back, he said he needed to pick something up. I was passing the time by talking to Dean, even if it made me look crazy, I told him about when I was little, I told him about Thomas and why I wore the crew necks, Sam came in with a paper bag. “What’s in the bag Sam?” I asked as he removed it, “seriously? A Ouiga board? If Bobby where here he’d-” “well he’s not and I’m left out of options. okay?” I rolled my eyes. “Fine, fine don’t get bitchy with me, get on with it.” I watched as Sam set the board up. “Reaper? There’s a Reaper in the hospital?” the piece shifted to the yes. And I could almost imagine Dean rolling his eyes at me. “Is it after you?” Sam asked and Dean said yes. I felt like I just got punched. “What do we do Sam?” I asked in a panicked voice. So Sam and I ran/ limped to John’s room. “Christ. Do you Winchesters ever do what you’re told?” I asked as Sam discovered his father’s Journal. “It says that Reapers can warp a person’s perception to make them see what the reaper wants them to. Do you think that’s what’s happening to Dean?” I asked Sam he looked at me with sad eyes as I began to tear up, Dean was so close to death, and then, he moved he was choking on the tubes as he regained consciousness. I ran out of the room yelling. “Help! I need help! Come quick!” I was pushed from the room as they removed the tubes. Dean’s eyes were locked on mine, I couldn’t tear mine away. I walked in after they cleared out. “Hey Jackie.” Dean said smirking. “Hey.” I scooted my chair closer to him. “I am so relieved, so so relieved that you’re awake. I said yawning. “You look terrible,” he said. “I feel terrible.” not because of my broken rib or my scrapes and bruises, I hadn’t slept very much only and hour or two since I woke up in this damned place, I owed Dean. He saved my life, if it wasn’t for him I would have been in his situation but with the less favorable out come. I smiled at him. Sam came in just as the doctor did. He ran some tests did some scans, you know normal doctor biz. He came back perplexed saying that Dean was completely healed. I was so glad that Dean didn’t remember being out of his body, I would have been mortified, he would tease me to no end if he did remember. John knocked on the door and said hey. I was still peeved at him, shooting him a venomous glare I walked out followed by Sam shortly after he argued with him. “Something’s wrong with him.” I told him he agreed going down the hall to go get coffee. I followed Sam. When we came back, we walked in silence as we passed an empty hospital room, a body laid on the floor eyes pinned on the ceiling unseeing, dead. “Dad,” Sam said as he dropped the coffee and ran to his father. I didn’t understand why people said moments like that slowed down, they sped up, building a sense of being overwhelmed. It throws you into shock and makes you go numb, Sam screamed out. They tried in vain to save John Winchester. I already knew he was gone, we watched as the called his time of death, 10:41 am. I was supporting Dean on my good side. I felt him shaking trying to stay solid as he stared at his father’s lifeless body. I was stoic, I barely knew the man, but he reminded me of my own father. Even though I didn’t know him well. I still felt the sting of loss. I was present at John’s funeral. I stood between Dean and Sam. I watched the flames lick John’s corpse. Dean stared straight ahead jaw clenched muscles tensed. I saw the tears in Sam’s eyes, his eyes mirrored my own red and puffy. Despite my attempts at sleep I had stayed awake all night. My eyes were sore. This was my fault. If I hadn’t excepted Dean’s offer to join them they would still have John, and Dean wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Over the next week Dean dedicated himself to fixing the Impala, I was tempted to have a friend drive Gray up to Bobby’s. He didn’t talk to me he just kept fixing the car. Despite mine and Sam’s efforts Dean refused our help. He slid out from under Baby, and holy Jesus how is it possible to look that good covered in Grease and motor oil? I inwardly cringed for thinking that, what was wrong with me? The header I took must have scrambled my brains I cleared my throat and looked away pretending to look at the Impala. Praying that neither him or Sam saw the look in my eye or that I bit my lip slowly. They were arguing and Dean finally admitted using Baby as a coping mechanism. “Who’s Ellen?” I asked speaking for the first time in a while. They shrugged and we were back on the road. In an old piece of shite minivan. “This is humiliating.” Dean said I agreed. We got out and headed into an old bar. “Place looks like a ghost town.” I said watching the dust kick up. We went inside looking around. I drew my gun just as I heard the click of a rifle. “Oh god please let that be a rifle.” Dean said as the chick behind him cocked it. “No I’m just real happy to see you.” I removed the safety of my pistol, she told Dean not to move and I was already aimed at her head. “Cut the Shit Annie Oakley.” I barked noticing that she was a blonde. My least favorite hair color. I glared at her she returned the icy cold stare. Dean took the gun from the girl and unloaded it partly before she punched him and stole it back this time I stood in front of the barrel. “Don’t touch him.” I growled my nostrils flaring. Dean called for Sam who was also held at gun point. “Well this is fucking fantastic!” I said pressing my forehead into the barrel. They both lowered their weapons when they learned Sam and Dean were Winchesters. “Hey I’m Ellen, that’s my daughter Joe.” I smiled, “I’m Jackline Daniels. A friend of Sam and Dean’s.” I lowered my pistol shaking Ellen’s hand. So I spent the whole time sitting as close to Dean as I could and glaring at Joe. She wore a skimpy little tank top and hip hugging jeans, not that she had any hips to hug, she was a fucking tooth pick. But I was no better, I filled out my jeans a little to good having to heave them up, and I wore baggy shirts to hide the lack of cleavage I had. We were introduced to Ash, he looked like Joe dirt. Dean said he looked like a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie. He had a mullet and everything about him screamed Redneck. He totally blew me away, he was helping us track the Demon. Dean watched Joe with mild interest, he followed her around to a solo table by a window. I watched them eyes narrowed, kinda wishing Dean had remembered being in the out of body experience. Sam picked up a folder. “You’ve got to be kidding me, clowns?” I said, Sam nodded reading the police report. I caught wind ofJoe and Dean’s conversation and absent mindedly stabbed the bar with my hunting knife. Everyone looked at me but my focus was trained on the wall behind the bar, my jaw set. I cleared my throat and apologized, yanking my knife from the wood and walking out Glaring at Joe as I went. She gave me a deer in the headlights look. And I smiled all of the kindness was absent replaced by a different emotion. I was out on the porch throwing my knife in the dirt and making it stick, when Sam came outside. “What was that Jackie?” he asked mild amusement in his voice. “Nothing, I just zoned out.” Sam scoffed. “So this had nothing to do with when you were at Dean’s side the entire time at the hospital? Or the fact that I caught you checking him out at Bobby’s?” my face reddened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sam shrugged “fine fine, don’t get bitchy with me.“ Sam used my line against me. "Har, Har.” I said sheathing my knife with skill. “He can do better is all.” I said walking away from him. Looking up at the sky. We were driving the rain pelting the ugly van as we went. All was fine until I caught Dean looking at me in the rear view mirror. I looked away flustered as Sam and him continued to talk. I dozed off dreaming about the night we wrecked. I woke clutching onto the seat gasping. "You all right Jackie?” Dean asked.