Sam Knew, Supernatural, NC-17
Nov. 27th, 2006 07:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phantismaFandom: Supernatural
Title: Sam Knew
Characters/Pairing: John/Dean
Word Count: 1023
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sam knew, and that leaves John and Dean lost for answers in the wake of tragedy…For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cariadean, who requested: SPN - Dean/John, Redemption NC-17, Nightmares. Maybe, just maybe, he should never have told him the truth. Happy Holidays my dear…hope you like it!
A/N & Warnings: There is incest here, John/Dean incest…character death and a lot more angst than I originally set out to write.
There was never the right time or place for this sort of thing. Dean knew that. Neither one of them were talkers. That had always been Sam’s place. Sam.
Dean looked away, out the window of the truck, beat up piece of shit that it was. It wasn’t his baby…nothing could ever replace that. Beside him his father was quiet. Always so fucking quiet since…
He closed his eyes to the monotony outside his window, closed his heart to the pain that lanced through him. He shouldn’t have said anything. Shouldn’t have said the words. But he couldn’t take them back now, not after…everything.
Sam knew.
That’s all it took. Two words. Two words and everything went to hell.
Because Sam was gone. Gone. And nothing was bringing him back this time. There was no Stanford, no girlfriend…there was no…no finding him in some backwater town in the middle of the night. There was Dean and Dad and this fucking piece of shit truck moving through the night toward nothing and nowhere…anywhere but where they’ve been.
Sam had known. Before Stanford, before coming back into this thing…before Jess and before anything ever happened between Dean and Sam. Sam knew.
He fucking knew.
Dean looked aside at his father who stared steadfastly at the road. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it. Maybe he shouldn’t have told him the truth. It’s not like it solved anything. It didn’t make the hole in their lives any smaller. It didn’t fix the ache. If anything it hurt more.
Dean didn’t even move when they pulled into the motel and John got out to get them a room…one with two beds. John went into the room and Dean still sat. They needed their space. They needed time alone. Because he was gone, and the space where he belonged was empty and cold and nothing had been the same since he’d said the words.
The cold from outside stared to seep in and Dean reluctantly went inside. His father was already in his bed, pretending to be asleep. Fine. He could do that too. Dean stripped down to boxers and crawled into the other bed, his back to his father.
It was his fault. All of it, and he was very well aware of it. He had been the first to make a move, to touch…to give his father what he needed. John had never asked for it. Just like Sam, when Dean no longer had the old man to look after, he suddenly had his baby brother. And Sam had let him…just like John did. And it was all his fault.
Dean curled in tighter and fought sleeping. When he slept he saw the whole thing over and over until he just couldn’t stand it anymore. Sam waking from the nightmare, pushing Dean away…Sam fighting with someone Dean couldn’t see…Sam bleeding and dying and crawling to the Impala just before it exploded, sending Dean sprawling into their father…
He woke to the sounds of his own screaming, to the touch of familiar hands, a warm body spooned to his back. “It’s okay…” John murmured, his hands stroking over Dean’s face and arm. “I’m so sorry Dean…I…I’m so sorry.”
Dean shook his head. “No…Dad…”
But he felt it then, his father’s arousal against his leg. Dean’s eyes closed. They hadn’t touched since Sam…had scarcely looked at each other since he’d said the words. His hand slid behind him to rub his father’s hip, encourage him closer. “Please.” He couldn’t believe how needy he sounded…how much he missed this…
“Shh…easy Dean.” His father’s voice was low and rumbling and it made his chest ache even as John pressed closer and they rolled a little to offer him the leverage to slowly rub a hand down over Dean’s ass, to gently circle his opening and slip inside.
Dean hissed with the intrusion, part in relief, part in pleasure. He closed his eyes and drifted on the feeling as his father opened him and touched him…the fire building in his stomach…he wanted the fire to burn away the memory, the nightmare…the vision of Sam’s face when they’d fucked…when he’d told Dean that he knew about this…about John and Dean and the sex…the image of that face bleeding and broken and the way it vanished under flames and smoke…
He cried out as his father eased into him, still murmuring gentle words of comfort, forgiveness. Dean clutched at the pillow as John moved, his body all heat and muscle and bone against him, filling him and making the ache ease just a little.
“Not your fault.” John whispered, his lips brushing Dean’s neck, just below his ear. “He loved you. I love you.”
Dean shifted to give him better access, more on his stomach now, his cock hard and hot and pressed into the sheets. John responded by increasing his pace, his hands stroking over Dean’s back, before settling onto his hips, drawing him up to his knees.
John pulled Dean up, and back until he was all but sitting on John’s thighs, his cock deep inside Dean. His hand moved to fist Dean’s cock, his lips pressing up the side of Dean’s neck and into the hair behind his ear. “I’m so sorry Dean…It was never your fault…never…it’s going to be okay…” He kept whispering as he made tiny thrusts deep inside Dean, as he pushed them both closer to a climax…closer to forgetting for a brief time…Dean yelled out as John flicked his thumb over his head on an up stroke and he came hard, crying in relief and desperation as he felt his father tense up as well.
The room was warmer now, the silence not as hard…not as condemning. It wasn’t really redemption, this touching…this fucking…maybe nothing would redeem them…either of them. Maybe he never should have told his father the truth…that Sam knew, that Sam saw, that Sam could taste John in Dean’s mouth…and as fucked up as it all was, Sam wanted it anyway…and Sam had gone that night knowing he’d never come back…Sam knew…and there was no way either of them could ever take that back.
Title: Sam Knew
Characters/Pairing: John/Dean
Word Count: 1023
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sam knew, and that leaves John and Dean lost for answers in the wake of tragedy…For
cariadean, who requested: SPN - Dean/John, Redemption NC-17, Nightmares. Maybe, just maybe, he should never have told him the truth. Happy Holidays my dear…hope you like it!A/N & Warnings: There is incest here, John/Dean incest…character death and a lot more angst than I originally set out to write.
There was never the right time or place for this sort of thing. Dean knew that. Neither one of them were talkers. That had always been Sam’s place. Sam.
Dean looked away, out the window of the truck, beat up piece of shit that it was. It wasn’t his baby…nothing could ever replace that. Beside him his father was quiet. Always so fucking quiet since…
He closed his eyes to the monotony outside his window, closed his heart to the pain that lanced through him. He shouldn’t have said anything. Shouldn’t have said the words. But he couldn’t take them back now, not after…everything.
Sam knew.
That’s all it took. Two words. Two words and everything went to hell.
Because Sam was gone. Gone. And nothing was bringing him back this time. There was no Stanford, no girlfriend…there was no…no finding him in some backwater town in the middle of the night. There was Dean and Dad and this fucking piece of shit truck moving through the night toward nothing and nowhere…anywhere but where they’ve been.
Sam had known. Before Stanford, before coming back into this thing…before Jess and before anything ever happened between Dean and Sam. Sam knew.
He fucking knew.
Dean looked aside at his father who stared steadfastly at the road. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it. Maybe he shouldn’t have told him the truth. It’s not like it solved anything. It didn’t make the hole in their lives any smaller. It didn’t fix the ache. If anything it hurt more.
Dean didn’t even move when they pulled into the motel and John got out to get them a room…one with two beds. John went into the room and Dean still sat. They needed their space. They needed time alone. Because he was gone, and the space where he belonged was empty and cold and nothing had been the same since he’d said the words.
The cold from outside stared to seep in and Dean reluctantly went inside. His father was already in his bed, pretending to be asleep. Fine. He could do that too. Dean stripped down to boxers and crawled into the other bed, his back to his father.
It was his fault. All of it, and he was very well aware of it. He had been the first to make a move, to touch…to give his father what he needed. John had never asked for it. Just like Sam, when Dean no longer had the old man to look after, he suddenly had his baby brother. And Sam had let him…just like John did. And it was all his fault.
Dean curled in tighter and fought sleeping. When he slept he saw the whole thing over and over until he just couldn’t stand it anymore. Sam waking from the nightmare, pushing Dean away…Sam fighting with someone Dean couldn’t see…Sam bleeding and dying and crawling to the Impala just before it exploded, sending Dean sprawling into their father…
He woke to the sounds of his own screaming, to the touch of familiar hands, a warm body spooned to his back. “It’s okay…” John murmured, his hands stroking over Dean’s face and arm. “I’m so sorry Dean…I…I’m so sorry.”
Dean shook his head. “No…Dad…”
But he felt it then, his father’s arousal against his leg. Dean’s eyes closed. They hadn’t touched since Sam…had scarcely looked at each other since he’d said the words. His hand slid behind him to rub his father’s hip, encourage him closer. “Please.” He couldn’t believe how needy he sounded…how much he missed this…
“Shh…easy Dean.” His father’s voice was low and rumbling and it made his chest ache even as John pressed closer and they rolled a little to offer him the leverage to slowly rub a hand down over Dean’s ass, to gently circle his opening and slip inside.
Dean hissed with the intrusion, part in relief, part in pleasure. He closed his eyes and drifted on the feeling as his father opened him and touched him…the fire building in his stomach…he wanted the fire to burn away the memory, the nightmare…the vision of Sam’s face when they’d fucked…when he’d told Dean that he knew about this…about John and Dean and the sex…the image of that face bleeding and broken and the way it vanished under flames and smoke…
He cried out as his father eased into him, still murmuring gentle words of comfort, forgiveness. Dean clutched at the pillow as John moved, his body all heat and muscle and bone against him, filling him and making the ache ease just a little.
“Not your fault.” John whispered, his lips brushing Dean’s neck, just below his ear. “He loved you. I love you.”
Dean shifted to give him better access, more on his stomach now, his cock hard and hot and pressed into the sheets. John responded by increasing his pace, his hands stroking over Dean’s back, before settling onto his hips, drawing him up to his knees.
John pulled Dean up, and back until he was all but sitting on John’s thighs, his cock deep inside Dean. His hand moved to fist Dean’s cock, his lips pressing up the side of Dean’s neck and into the hair behind his ear. “I’m so sorry Dean…It was never your fault…never…it’s going to be okay…” He kept whispering as he made tiny thrusts deep inside Dean, as he pushed them both closer to a climax…closer to forgetting for a brief time…Dean yelled out as John flicked his thumb over his head on an up stroke and he came hard, crying in relief and desperation as he felt his father tense up as well.
The room was warmer now, the silence not as hard…not as condemning. It wasn’t really redemption, this touching…this fucking…maybe nothing would redeem them…either of them. Maybe he never should have told his father the truth…that Sam knew, that Sam saw, that Sam could taste John in Dean’s mouth…and as fucked up as it all was, Sam wanted it anyway…and Sam had gone that night knowing he’d never come back…Sam knew…and there was no way either of them could ever take that back.
