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May. 25th, 2008 12:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwenknightJACKHAMMER LOVE
Summary: He eats too fast and drinks too hard and drives like the devil himself is on his tail. Which, yeah, sometimes he is. But, as hard as Dean fights and drinks and hunts? He loves even harder than that.
AUTHOR: Gwen
RATING: NC17
PAIRING: Dean/Sam
DISCLAIMER: All fiction, all the time
AUTHOR'S NOTE: My first fic posted in SPN fandom, although it has owned my soul for a long time now.
"Jackhammer Love"
One time, years ago in Oklahoma, they'd been holed up in… Sam will never forget it…the Reservation Motel somewhere in southern Oklahoma, the one with the teepees and peace pipes painted on the walls.... and a tornado had swept through town.
Just before the storm, Sam remembers standing in the doorway of the motel room, looking out over the cracked asphalt parking lot to a highway that was eerily deserted in the middle of the afternoon. Heavy black clouds filled the sky and thunder rumbled overhead. The air around him was full of static energy that made the hair on his arms stand up. It was thick and sort of yellowish and smelled of ozone. Everything had been so still, not a leaf moving on the trees.
Minutes later, the funnel cloud zoomed out of the horizon and blew past the motel where Sam and Dean were hunkered down in the tiny bathroom, waiting it out and hoping like hell that the Reservation Motel was sturdier than it looked. Deafening roar of the wind, the force of it rattling the windowpanes. Boom of thunder and blinding flashes of lightning that bathed the room in stark blue-white light. Rain beating down on the roof over their heads. Debris slamming against the door and Dean cursing about his baby being parked out in the open and defying Mother Nature to put one single fucking mark on her.
Sitting on the tiled floor, Sam had spread his legs and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, pulling him back against his chest. Kissed the back of Dean's neck and tried to reel him back in. "It'll be over in a minute Dean, they never last long." He'd felt Dean's heart beating hard and fast underneath his palm, had felt the thrum of adrenaline racing through his brother's body.
"Yeah. Yeah, Sammy, I know." Dean had instinctively settled back into Sam, feeding off the solid, steady strength of him. "I just hate shit like this. You got no control, you know?"
Sam knew. He knew how much Dean hated when they were up against something he couldn't shoot, or punch, or salt and burn. So he'd held him close and let him splutter and fuss and cuss till the storm had passed. He hadn't been scared, really. No way the Winchester brothers were going out like this, undone by a little wind and lightning. He figured Destiny had much bigger plans for them.
The Reservation Motel had miraculously held together and the Impala had come through relatively unscathed. Sam and Dean had stayed for a couple of days to help some of the townspeople put tarps on damaged roofs and clear fallen trees before they'd climbed into the car and hit the highway.
Sam still thinks about that tornado sometimes. About how it had come roaring onto the scene, a force powerful enough to shake up everything it its path. Something you never forgot if it touched you.
Dean reminds him of that tornado. The first time that Dean had ever kissed him, Sam had felt the impact of a force that had shaken him to his core and he'd never been the same and never would be.
Dean's just like that. He moves through the world at a breakneck speed, kicking ass and taking names. Killing every evil son of a bitch that he can track down. No matter what monsters might be waiting in your closet, Dean can handle them with one hand tied behind his back. He’s Superman and Batman. He’ s James Bond and Indiana Jones. Course, he’s a whole lot Maxwell Smart, too, but he works hard to cover it up and Sam usually lets him.
He eats too fast and drinks too hard and drives like the devil himself is on his tail. Which, yeah, sometimes he is. But, as hard as Dean fights and drinks and hunts? He loves even harder than that.
He's fiercely loyal and undeniably brave and his love for Sam is as big as the sky. Behind all the fierce glares and John Wayne stances, Dean’s the gentlest man that Sam has ever known.
Dean has taught Sam how to tie his shoes, shoot spitballs, deal from the bottom of the deck, lie with a straight face, hustle pool, and throw a right hook with some serious intent behind it. About knives and guns and tequila shots. About not grinding the gears and what a carburetor does. He’s taught him about family. About the meaning of sacrifice and what’s worth it and what’s not.
Dean has patched Sam up and stitched him back together with catgut and hundred-proof, cussing like a sailor under his breath, his hands steady and sure on Sam's skin. He’s held Sam up while Sam puked up his insides. He’s covered Sam's body with his own when the bullets were flying and monsters were clawing at them. He’s lied and cheated and stole for him. He’s brought Sam back from the fucking dead.
Sam’s invincible because Dean stands between him and everything evil in this or any other world.
And, there is a lot of evil shit out there. Every fucking where. Sometimes too much for even an evil-fighting badass Superhero like Dean Winchester. Sam knows this. That’s why, when he catches the almost imperceptible tremor in Dean’s hands when he’s steering the Impala and the shadows lurking in his eyes, he starts watching for suitable places to hole up for a few days.
Sam checks them into an out-of-the-way place, sneaks a call in to Bobby to let him know they’ll be laying low for a bit. Stocks up on beer and pizza. Locks the doors, salts the sills, and gives Dean something to take his mind off his work.
Sometimes, depending on whatever shit they’ve just been through, how bad the bad stuff has been, how far into the dark they’ve had to push…as bad as it is for Sam, he can get his head out of that place quicker than Dean can. Sam’s learned how to compartmentalize it. Put it in a box and lock it up and he’ll bring it out later in small bits that are easier to take apart and think through and put back together into something he can handle.
Dean. Dean’s single-minded and totally invested and so fucking tenacious and, even though he’ll never admit it, he’s got more than a little bit of John Winchester’s obsessive focus when it comes to battling the sinister. So, he doesn’t let go as easily.
Sometimes, at first, he’s all desperate kisses, like he’s afraid he has to grab them before he loses the chance. He holds Sam in a powerful grip, maps his body with his mouth like he’s memorizing every muscle, every scar, every plane and hollow. Breathes against Sam’s skin, tangles his fingers up in Sam’s hair. Pushes into Sam with all he’s worth, crawling right the fuck up into him, body and soul. Straining and sweating and laying claim to Sam and giving him everything he’s got to give, because it all belongs to Sammy. It always has.
He shows Sam everything he’s ever been afraid of. Lays it all out at Sam’s feet and Sam grabs it and keeps it close, because he’s maybe the only one who will ever get to see it. Who will ever be able to chase it away.
Sam lets him. He lets him and he urges him on, coaxing him with hungry kisses and “*Please, Dean, please”, arching up into him, wrapping around him and pulling him close because Sam can take on whatever the world has to throw at him if he can just keep this. Keep Dean.
Of course, somewhere along the way, and Sam has yet to figure out exactly how he does it, Dean gets back in the driver’s seat. He’s knocked the edge off and left the shit behind and he’s completely focused on Sam.
He bites Sam hard enough to wake up everything that Sam might still be trying to hold inside, that he might still be afraid to let go of. His fingers making bruises...brands...that mark Sam as being under the protection of Dean Winchester. Which, as talismans go, is the best Sam could ever hope for.
He winds Sam up till Sam can’t breathe and he’s shaking and just coming the fuck apart and Dean’s right there, taking him through it with his sure hands and his warm mouth and his low murmurs of “ shhhh, it’s okay, baby” and “ Yeah, yeah, I got you, Sammy”….
And, see, that’s the thing. That’s what holds everything together for Sam, it’s what makes everything else in the world make sense.
Dean might be fierce and he's determined and sometimes a big pain in the ass. And, it’s usually his way or the highway.
Sam will always, always take Dean’s way.
End
Summary: He eats too fast and drinks too hard and drives like the devil himself is on his tail. Which, yeah, sometimes he is. But, as hard as Dean fights and drinks and hunts? He loves even harder than that.
AUTHOR: Gwen
RATING: NC17
PAIRING: Dean/Sam
DISCLAIMER: All fiction, all the time
AUTHOR'S NOTE: My first fic posted in SPN fandom, although it has owned my soul for a long time now.
"Jackhammer Love"
One time, years ago in Oklahoma, they'd been holed up in… Sam will never forget it…the Reservation Motel somewhere in southern Oklahoma, the one with the teepees and peace pipes painted on the walls.... and a tornado had swept through town.
Just before the storm, Sam remembers standing in the doorway of the motel room, looking out over the cracked asphalt parking lot to a highway that was eerily deserted in the middle of the afternoon. Heavy black clouds filled the sky and thunder rumbled overhead. The air around him was full of static energy that made the hair on his arms stand up. It was thick and sort of yellowish and smelled of ozone. Everything had been so still, not a leaf moving on the trees.
Minutes later, the funnel cloud zoomed out of the horizon and blew past the motel where Sam and Dean were hunkered down in the tiny bathroom, waiting it out and hoping like hell that the Reservation Motel was sturdier than it looked. Deafening roar of the wind, the force of it rattling the windowpanes. Boom of thunder and blinding flashes of lightning that bathed the room in stark blue-white light. Rain beating down on the roof over their heads. Debris slamming against the door and Dean cursing about his baby being parked out in the open and defying Mother Nature to put one single fucking mark on her.
Sitting on the tiled floor, Sam had spread his legs and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist, pulling him back against his chest. Kissed the back of Dean's neck and tried to reel him back in. "It'll be over in a minute Dean, they never last long." He'd felt Dean's heart beating hard and fast underneath his palm, had felt the thrum of adrenaline racing through his brother's body.
"Yeah. Yeah, Sammy, I know." Dean had instinctively settled back into Sam, feeding off the solid, steady strength of him. "I just hate shit like this. You got no control, you know?"
Sam knew. He knew how much Dean hated when they were up against something he couldn't shoot, or punch, or salt and burn. So he'd held him close and let him splutter and fuss and cuss till the storm had passed. He hadn't been scared, really. No way the Winchester brothers were going out like this, undone by a little wind and lightning. He figured Destiny had much bigger plans for them.
The Reservation Motel had miraculously held together and the Impala had come through relatively unscathed. Sam and Dean had stayed for a couple of days to help some of the townspeople put tarps on damaged roofs and clear fallen trees before they'd climbed into the car and hit the highway.
Sam still thinks about that tornado sometimes. About how it had come roaring onto the scene, a force powerful enough to shake up everything it its path. Something you never forgot if it touched you.
Dean reminds him of that tornado. The first time that Dean had ever kissed him, Sam had felt the impact of a force that had shaken him to his core and he'd never been the same and never would be.
Dean's just like that. He moves through the world at a breakneck speed, kicking ass and taking names. Killing every evil son of a bitch that he can track down. No matter what monsters might be waiting in your closet, Dean can handle them with one hand tied behind his back. He’s Superman and Batman. He’ s James Bond and Indiana Jones. Course, he’s a whole lot Maxwell Smart, too, but he works hard to cover it up and Sam usually lets him.
He eats too fast and drinks too hard and drives like the devil himself is on his tail. Which, yeah, sometimes he is. But, as hard as Dean fights and drinks and hunts? He loves even harder than that.
He's fiercely loyal and undeniably brave and his love for Sam is as big as the sky. Behind all the fierce glares and John Wayne stances, Dean’s the gentlest man that Sam has ever known.
Dean has taught Sam how to tie his shoes, shoot spitballs, deal from the bottom of the deck, lie with a straight face, hustle pool, and throw a right hook with some serious intent behind it. About knives and guns and tequila shots. About not grinding the gears and what a carburetor does. He’s taught him about family. About the meaning of sacrifice and what’s worth it and what’s not.
Dean has patched Sam up and stitched him back together with catgut and hundred-proof, cussing like a sailor under his breath, his hands steady and sure on Sam's skin. He’s held Sam up while Sam puked up his insides. He’s covered Sam's body with his own when the bullets were flying and monsters were clawing at them. He’s lied and cheated and stole for him. He’s brought Sam back from the fucking dead.
Sam’s invincible because Dean stands between him and everything evil in this or any other world.
And, there is a lot of evil shit out there. Every fucking where. Sometimes too much for even an evil-fighting badass Superhero like Dean Winchester. Sam knows this. That’s why, when he catches the almost imperceptible tremor in Dean’s hands when he’s steering the Impala and the shadows lurking in his eyes, he starts watching for suitable places to hole up for a few days.
Sam checks them into an out-of-the-way place, sneaks a call in to Bobby to let him know they’ll be laying low for a bit. Stocks up on beer and pizza. Locks the doors, salts the sills, and gives Dean something to take his mind off his work.
Sometimes, depending on whatever shit they’ve just been through, how bad the bad stuff has been, how far into the dark they’ve had to push…as bad as it is for Sam, he can get his head out of that place quicker than Dean can. Sam’s learned how to compartmentalize it. Put it in a box and lock it up and he’ll bring it out later in small bits that are easier to take apart and think through and put back together into something he can handle.
Dean. Dean’s single-minded and totally invested and so fucking tenacious and, even though he’ll never admit it, he’s got more than a little bit of John Winchester’s obsessive focus when it comes to battling the sinister. So, he doesn’t let go as easily.
Sometimes, at first, he’s all desperate kisses, like he’s afraid he has to grab them before he loses the chance. He holds Sam in a powerful grip, maps his body with his mouth like he’s memorizing every muscle, every scar, every plane and hollow. Breathes against Sam’s skin, tangles his fingers up in Sam’s hair. Pushes into Sam with all he’s worth, crawling right the fuck up into him, body and soul. Straining and sweating and laying claim to Sam and giving him everything he’s got to give, because it all belongs to Sammy. It always has.
He shows Sam everything he’s ever been afraid of. Lays it all out at Sam’s feet and Sam grabs it and keeps it close, because he’s maybe the only one who will ever get to see it. Who will ever be able to chase it away.
Sam lets him. He lets him and he urges him on, coaxing him with hungry kisses and “*Please, Dean, please”, arching up into him, wrapping around him and pulling him close because Sam can take on whatever the world has to throw at him if he can just keep this. Keep Dean.
Of course, somewhere along the way, and Sam has yet to figure out exactly how he does it, Dean gets back in the driver’s seat. He’s knocked the edge off and left the shit behind and he’s completely focused on Sam.
He bites Sam hard enough to wake up everything that Sam might still be trying to hold inside, that he might still be afraid to let go of. His fingers making bruises...brands...that mark Sam as being under the protection of Dean Winchester. Which, as talismans go, is the best Sam could ever hope for.
He winds Sam up till Sam can’t breathe and he’s shaking and just coming the fuck apart and Dean’s right there, taking him through it with his sure hands and his warm mouth and his low murmurs of “ shhhh, it’s okay, baby” and “ Yeah, yeah, I got you, Sammy”….
And, see, that’s the thing. That’s what holds everything together for Sam, it’s what makes everything else in the world make sense.
Dean might be fierce and he's determined and sometimes a big pain in the ass. And, it’s usually his way or the highway.
Sam will always, always take Dean’s way.
End
