fannishliss

spn ficlet for s6: "Bare"


Dean is a year out of practice.  One year of the Impala under a tarp, one year's worth of old books with no new answers, one year's worth of hidden bottles drained faster than Lisa could find them, one year of Dean's guilty grimace and Lisa's patient understanding.   All Dean can think about is Sam, in the Pit, the way time stretches out eternally there, Sam's never-ceasing torment that Dean can practically feel.  Books and liquor and days crawl by glacier slow, till a whole year has passed and Sam is back.

He's freaking huge. Dean was used to Sam's extra four inches in height, but the size of Sam now makes Dean feel small.    The look in Sam's eyes makes Dean feel small, the little smirk around Sam's perfect lips, the assessing gaze in his dark eyes.

It all comes down to a room that smells like a hippie chick, like sex, Sam glowing in all his perfect skin and Dean's confused by the musk of woman -- that's what he tells himself -- and the look in Sam's eye and on his lips is more than come hither.  It's a dare.

Big hands spread wide, hip level, open, a display -- here I am, big brother.

Dean's been so cold and Sam is putting out heat.  He melts away the ice that's been locking Dean in place.  The year was too long, the suffering never ending.   Dean just needs to feel that heat warming his own skin.  Sam's still not right but what if he never will be?

Dean is a year out of practice.  Trying so hard all year, to show when he's grateful, to show that he cares -- he can't school the soul-deep yearning back down.  Dean waited a year, gave all he had to give.  He can't wait any more when Sam is right there, daring him to take what he wants.

Dean wants.

Sam steps closer, the deadliest predator.

Dean gives it up.  Sam surrounds him, takes him down, swallows him whole.

Sam is a bigger, stronger thing than Dean has ever known, implacable, golden, almost godlike, putting Dean right where he wants him, taking what he wants.

Whatever you want, whatever, Dean urges.

Dean ain't nothing if he can't take a dare.  He takes it, scorches underneath Sam's heat, feels himself burn and begs for more--

--wishing the warmth went all the way inside, wishing he could feel it in Sam's hollow smile.


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prompts for s6  from Midwinter day by drabble:
13. bare

12. Nobody sees when you are lying in your bed And I wanna crawl in with you  But I cry instead
I want your warm, but it will only make  Me colder when it's over  --"Love Ridden" by Fiona Apple

21. "I like these cold, gray winter days. Days like these let you savor a bad mood."--Bill Watterson

15. How like a winter hath my absence been From thee the pleasure of the fleeting year!  What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen, What old December’s bareness everywhere!   --"Sonnet 97" by William Shakespeare

20.  photo of some hipster in a sweater  cuddling Genevieve in a cabin  -- this would be a great prompt for The French Mistake.  :)