SpN: Impossible Things 3/?

[roxy]

part one
Part two



Title: Impossible Things
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters:Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13 (language and a kiss
Word Count:4992
Spoilers: very vague spoilery reference for the end of season 5, but it veers off into AUness pretty quick
Summary: What happens when you survive a thing you never expected to


3
Dean was coming up the stairs that led to the basement and the washer and dryers. He was pushing two red-faced boys in front of him, his face contorted into a vicious scowl. "I don't give a fu—crap—you do not shove your brother into a dryer and turn it on. You coulda hurt him. Killed him. And then I'd have to clean corpse stench out of the dryer. Go home before I kick both your asses." The boys bolted for the building entrance. "You tell your mom I'm coming to talk to her," he shouted after them.

Sam shuffled the grocery bags in his arms and watched the little drama unfold. He'd seen right away the scowl was a mask for laughter and sure enough, as soon as Dean caught sight of Sam, he broke out into a huge, eye wrinkling grin. He waited to let Sam catch up with him and they walked into the dim light and cool granite smell of the lobby together.

"Little bastards," Dean laughed. "Older one had the little kid shoved in a dryer and was looking for quarters. Lucky I got there before he found any." Dean shook his head like a fond uncle. Memories, no doubt, of nearly murdering his own younger brother. Younger Brother made an enormous effort not to step on his older brother's instep.

"Yeah, 'cause brothers should never do anything like that, hunh?"

"I know, right?" The sarcasm was totally lost on Dean, so Sam coughed, glared at him, and Dean did a little double-take. "Oh my god, you're still pissed about that?"

"Yes—and see? You know what I'm talking about. You know how wrong it was, what you did." He tried to glare harder, but his lips started to curl, traitorous things that they were. He refused to smile—no way was he forgiving Dean for that day. And Dean, cold-hearted bastard that he was—he certainly wasn't holding back the laughter.

"Hey, no one told you you had to put that vacuum hose to your face. Good thing you didn't try to attach it to your—"

"Dean!"

Dean laughed and sidestepped the boot aimed at his ankle. "What are you up to tonight, wanna go out? I need to get out. I spent all day snaking toilets and changing bulbs—I mean, how freaking hard is it to get on a stool and change a bulb?"

"If you're four foot tall and eighty years old like Mrs. Gardiner, real hard." Sam snorted. "You're kind of crabby lately. Maybe you need to get laid," Sam said, just like he was anyone else's brother, like he was a normal guy, who didn't live a whole dirty secret life in the privacy of his head.

"Laid…speaking of, you ever talk to Handsy again?"

"Yes, of course, I see Jerome almost every day," he said carefully, and shoved a grocery bag in Dean's arms. "Salad and bread's in that one, be careful. Not like you mean though. He's a nice enough guy, bad habits aside." Dean snorted, but Sam ignored him. "Candy asked me out tonight--well, Candy and a few other people. She's cute."

Dean unlocked the door and set his bag on the kitchen counter, Sam plopped his bag next to it.

"She? You've gone back to girls? I thought—"

"Bi, dude. That's what it means. She's nice; she's just a nice person to talk to. She listens just as well as she speaks. Kind of rare that," he said as pointedly as he could.

Dean was quiet as he helped put the groceries away. Fidgeted a bit before turning to Sam. "You know it doesn’t matter to me, right? You're my brother, nothing could change that."

Sam leaned against the counter and smiled through an embarrassing wave of awww and love. "I know that dude; you proved it over and over, okay? And. Thanks. For everything."

Dean shrugged and waved it off. "Whatever, bitch." He started to walk away, and then came back. "Say, Sam?"

Sam looked up, and froze. Dean was red-faced, his eyes darting everywhere but where Sam was. Sam's heart tripped a beat. Dean was about to say something that wasn't going to make him happy, much. Sam hoped it wasn't about the Crazy Times—he'd hoped to go on ignoring that time for as long as possible "…yeah?"

"I." Dean stopped, bit his lip, tried again. "Listen. I." He blew out a sharp breath and blurted, "I hadsexwithaguy. Once. So, I get it, sort of."

Sam dropped the bag of oranges he'd been holding, oranges bounced and rolled all over the kitchen, under the table, over their feet. "Hunh? You did what now?"

"It was while you were at college," Dean said, like that explained it all.

"Dean," Sam said mildly, giving no indication that part of his brain had skipped the tracks and was dealing with unreasonable jealousy, anger, hurt, and hell yeah, curiosity. "Dean…that stuff about experimenting in college? Doesn't extend to siblings not in college."

"I just wanted you to know that, you know. It's okay to talk to me. All right?"

"All right. Thanks. Um. So, top or bottom?"

"What? What? Fuck you, I'm trying to—to—talk to you, and you're making fun of me?"

"I'm not--dude, wait! Dean, come back—shit." Any other time Dean would be grateful—it was what he did all the time, deflect a moment by joking. Wasn't like Sam really wanted to know.

A sharp, electric jolt shot through him, he almost gasped aloud. The picture of his brother with his dick down someone's throat made his head swim…those square, smart hands planted on some anonymous ass as he plunged in and out…Sam blinked rapidly, dropped to his knees to pick up the oranges. He was still on his knees when Dean sauntered in as causally as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb that wiped out the last of Sam's fragile control over the worst of his imagination.

"Going out for a while. Don’t cook."

Sam looked up at him, his gaze glancing from Dean's boots to his knees maybe lingering on his belt buckle, before settling on his chin. "Oh-okay," he said. He was still on his knees for a little bit after Dean left, his dick pulsing uncomfortably in his pants. "Oh fuuuuck," he groaned. Life was…full of bad suck.

****
Dean came in a few hours after Sam had, weaving into the living room with a bleary little smile on his lips. His eyes were that cloudy, grey-green they got when he was drunk, and Sam kind of hated that…Dean getting drunk felt like he was hiding from him. Sam stared hard at the TV—he'd been watching some show about giant machines, mostly because he was a little drunk too, and couldn’t be bothered to pick up the remote from where he'd dropped it. Dean dropped down on the end of the couch and let out a huge gusty sigh.

"So, how was the date, Bumble?" he asked. "Did you score?"

Sam closed his eyes and sighed. Okay, they were going to play it this way. "She's a nice girl. We had drinks. We might get together again. I'll probably go out with Jerome, too, if he wants." Sam shrugged. Dean just kept staring at him, kind of blurry around the edges look, with a hint of judging. "What?" Sam snapped.

"Nothing. Just…when did you get to be such a social butterfly?"

"So, I take a page out of your book and I'm some kind of man-whore all of a sudden?"

"Who said whore? No one said whore. Is that what you think of me?"

"Dean—" No. Sometimes. Not a whore, just, too friendly. By far, damn it. Fucker. With a guy, he. And never told him. Dean never told him anything. "I wanna know about that guy. And why you don’t now. You don't, right?" Sam said past a stupid flare of jealousy.

"God, Sam did you learn how to kill a buzz dead at Stanford? Bet you were popular," he muttered. "No…it was just that once, like I said. Not, y'know, that it's any of your business."

"It is." Sam got up off the couch, weaved a little as he waited for his feet to catch up with the rest of him. "Imma get another beer, you wan' one?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, if I gotta talk about this shit, I need to be drunker than this."

Sam jerked open the fridge door, he yanked a couple of bottles out. He had the bottles open and was coming around the edge of the couch when Dean looked up at him and Sam froze. fucking Dean. So beautiful….

Dean started talking, eyes sliding off Sam and fixing on the TV. "You know what freaked me out after? I liked it. I liked it so much that. That I was afraid I'd never, y'know, stop wanting it. I just figured it was easier not to, what with Dad, and all the shit we were going through. So." He shrugged. "Met him at a bar. He was tall, and had this wild, red hair all in his face and shit. Did I tell you he was a hunter? I asked him how he saw with all that stupid hair and he pulled out this crazy headband and. He grinned, right to his back teeth, and he reminded me of you and." Dean took a long swallow of his beer and Sam faked that he did too. "So, I was missing you, god, Sammy like you wouldn't believe and this guy just kept talking and making me laugh and drink, and the next thing I knew I was in his truck, and he was bent over me and touching me places the way no one ever had before and it felt—amazing. He made me come—" Dean stopped and coughed, wiped his mouth and set his bottle down firmly on the coffee table. "Anyway. It was the one time only."

"You ever see him again?" Sam asked, lifted his bottle and swallowed for real this time—he didn’t want to know Dean had kept in touch with the guy, maybe still talked to him. Hunters were a small, inbred community. It was reasonable to think that they had some kind of contact….

"No. He's dead," Dean said, in a way that let Sam know that conversation was over. He managed to swallow down the "I'm sorry," that kind of automatically formed in his mouth. There was no way he could pretend to be sincere, that he cared about this faceless stranger who reminded his brother of him. Whom his brother had had sex with.

Dean jerked to his feet and slammed the empty bottle down on the coffee table. "I'm beat, Sam. Hit the lights?"

Sam grunted agreement and switched off the TV, headed for the lamps. He gathered up the bottles, and set them in the sink; he brought the laundry hamper out of the bathroom and left it by the apartment door. Swept the kitchen floor, wiped down the counters. He didn't go to bed until he heard the soft sound of his brother snoring—he always snored when he'd been drinking. Sam took himself off to bed too, and tried to clear his mind. He was about to drift off when the whole evening suddenly replayed, and crashed to a stop on "he reminded me of you".

Dean had slept with a guy who reminded him of Sam. He'd said it out loud. He fucked a guy who reminded him of….Sam fell asleep, repeating that over and over and wondering. Stupid thoughts, maybe, but he slept sounder that night than any night in a long, long, time.



"Hey Sam, I know you want to take a break from hunting but—"

"Where? What's happening? Do I need to take time off, I can probably get a few days off like, over the weekend or—"

"Don't go getting your pigtails in a knot, Cinderella," Dean smirked. "Knew you were getting bored."

"It's not that. It's just between studying and working, I need a break."

Dean nodded. "Oh, yeah. I told Damien I'd need a couple of days for my 'other' work." He shivered and made a face. "Dude, I think he thinks I'm some kind of…sorcerer or something. 'screepy."

Sam shook his head. Civilians. "So, what are we after?"

"Bobby sent an e-mail." He shrugged at Sam's look of surprise. "He discovered the internet? Anyway, it was more of a general call for hunters in the area than for us specifically; he knows we're on a break."

"Uh-hunh. He just happened to send info about a job to us, too."

Dean grinned. "Yeah. Anyway, it’s a real basic one, a piece of pie--easy."

"Cake. And you know better than to say something's easy where the Universe can hear you, dude. It's like pasting a kick me sign on yourself."

"Unbunch, Priscilla." Dean rolled his eyes. "We're heading to Maine, there's a water baby making trouble there, or so Bobby says. Could be something else, but considering the area, and the M.O., water baby's his first choice."

"Water baby? Have you heard of that before? How the hell do you kill that?"

"Dad had some info in his journal—not personal experience, though. Seems you don't kill it. You get it to leave--you make its home unlivable and it disappears. Dad thought maybe they slip in here from another dimension--hey," he said to Sam's startled laugh. "Dad's theory, not mine." He dug around in a bag and pulled out two fat, red candles, and a plastic sandwich bag of bones. He shook the bag. "Chicken bones. Burn them on the bank, light the candles and tell it to leave and not come back."

"You're kidding. That's all there is to it?"

"Everything gotta be blood and screaming for you--" Dean choked to a stop, his smile faded, as the color leached from his face.

"Dean…"

"Anyway, it'll be a nice drive, you'll like it." His brother's eyes were begging him not to comment and Sam went with it.

"When you put it like that," he managed a small smile, and Dean gave him a grateful kind of grimace back.
****
Two days later, they were stretched on the sandy floor of a shallow cave, near the rocky shore of an inlet. Cliffs rose up on either side, forming the shallow walls and the high, slanted, roof of the cave they crouched in. Sam was bleeding and panting, hunched over their duffle and glaring at Dean like he'd throw him into the lake if he could. Between his teeth he ground out, "When we get outta here, I'm going to break your fucking nose."

"Dude, my nose is already broken." He wiped a palm full of blood off his upper lip and glared at Sam like it was his fault. "Fucking horned snake motherfucker. Water baby, my ass. I mean, when the man said 'water baby' I'm thinking baby, right? Not the god damn Loch Ness monster with a really shitty attitude. Damn."

Sam nodded, his breath still coming rough. "So. We try again?"

"Yeah, this thing will keep on taking people into the water if not. Matches?"

He tossed Dean a pack of matches, guaranteed to light wet or dry, and searched his pockets. Found the plastic bag full of salt and iron shells. "Okay—want me to take shotgun?" He dug the Mossberg out of the duffle, but Dean shook his head, held his hand out for it as he staggered to his feet.

"Nah, gimme--you're better than I am with the chanting thing. You know me, ready to hold down the fort, but you're the one who talks all purty. Get rid of this thing, I'll keep it occupied."

He stared at Dean. "I don’t feel good about you going up against this thing alone." We're out of practice he kept to himself.

"Well, I'm not alone. I got you and you've got my back. Light those candles and start chanting, I got a big watery bitch to irritate the hell out of."

Dean scrambled over the rocks, went farther onto the shore and started throwing rocks into the dark water. Sam flopped a few large, flat rocks together, set the two candles up, frowning at the oddly greasy feel of them. There was something about them that made his palms feel dirty…he felt a familiar itch under the back of his skull, and wiped his hands on his jeans, hard.

He lit the candles, and when the wicks had sputtered their last and finally held a flame, he piled up the chicken bones between them. He had no idea what the bones were meant to represent. They were dry and hollow, rough to the touch. They smelled faintly of fried chicken and were totally unremarkable…he shrugged and doused them with lighter fluid, and listened to Dean curse and throw stones at the water.

"Fuck!"

Sam's head whipped around, and there was Dean running up the dangerously rocky shore, yelling for Sam to start chanting right fucking now. Keeping pace with him, in the water, was a long dark shape that wove sinuously through the waves. Its long skull whipped back and forth and even over the sound of crashing water and Dean's panicked shouts, he could hear it hissing.

Sam quickly lit a twist of paper, dropped it onto the bones and the lighter fluid flared up, the dry bones caught. He thanked god silently and started chanting, loudly, clearly and quickly. "Back, give this water back. Give the meat back. Give the bones back. Go back. Go home. Go now." He repeated those words; he was supposed to say them until the 'water baby' listened. He chanted, and watched the monster slither out of the water and across the rocks, its fins working like legs to pull it after Dean—a whole lot faster than it seemed it should be capable of. Sam licked his dry lips, pressed his hand over his hammering heart and kept one eye on the beach and his frantically dodging brother, and chanted without stop. It felt wrong, the worst kind of wrong to not run down the beach and help Dean....

He startled but kept chanting when he heard a shotgun blast, much closer than he expected. Dean was still running but now he was running away from the cave, shouting and waving his arms and drawing the water baby away from Sam, and Sam couldn't stop chanting. He desperately hoped Dean knew what he was doing.

Sam's voice was getting rough, and the smoke from the greasy candles and the smoldering bones irritated his throat even more. His eyes were streaming when Dean came dashing into the cave, whooping.

"Dude, it lit up all over like a fucking Christmas tree and was gone! We were half way down the beach and it had an eye on me, I swear it licked its lips—it had lips dude, like Angelina lips--so fuckin' creepy--"

Sam hacked and coughed, and croaked, "Then we're done?"

"Kinda." Dean shrugged, and said, "Well, now we gotta find the bones of its victims and burn them too…."

"What—oh my god, I swear when we get back to the hotel, I'm going to drug you and cut your kidneys out and sell them."

Dean looked thoughtful for a moment, and said, "And then can we buy a pony?"



They drove down the coast because it really was a nice drive; the sun was high in a bright sapphire sky, the crisp ocean breeze dashed long streamers of vanilla white clouds across the blue. Sam snuck little looks at an oblivious Dean as they drove. Dean looked good, really good. Sam cataloged all the changes in his brother. He was tan, his freckles looked healthy now, and not like dark spatters against a sallow, grey canvas. The dark shadows were gone from under his eyes, the lines in the corners deeper, but they came from smiling and not that terrible frozen glare Sam had gotten used to seeing. He looked…whole. He looked like Dean again.

"Hey. You're thinking too hard and that's never good. What's up? Did we miss something?"

"No, no, I was thinking…"that I'm tired of being alone "that I'm kind of hungry. Wanna stop?"

"Fuck, yeah. Best idea you've had since…" Dean made a big show out of trying to remember, and Sam elbowed him. Asshole.
****
They took a break on the way back, stopped at a little rundown looking clam shack set back from the road. The original red and navy paint had faded to a sketchy pink and baby blue, the hand painted sign hung cock-eyed on the wall. An old fashioned screen door slapped on its spring hinge as customers came and went--was probably doing nothing to keep flying things out. Dean pulled the car into the dirt parking lot and smiled and Sam looked at him like he was crazy.

"Really? We're going for salmonella on the half-shell?"

"Nah, pretty sure the sign says 'Bud's Oyster and Beer'. Don't you know the less tarted up a place is, the better the food? Live a little, kiddo."

They got paper trays piled high with hot fried oysters and fries, a bottle each of Miller. Ignoring the slight chill in the air, they sat outside at one of the picnic tables at the rear of the lot, and stuffed themselves silly. Dean was grinning from ear to ear, the sun made his eyes blaze and the slight wind did its best to ruffle his hair. He laughed a lot and Sam sucked up the sound of it, learning it all over again.

"Told you it was gonna be good," Dean crowed at Sam, who was busy licking grease and crumbs from his fingers. All he could do was nod. Fried oysters had always struck him as something disgusting covered with breading and made more disgusting by coating it in oil, but this…he might have to rethink his stance on fried foods. Fried oysters, anyway. Dean winked and chewed, and Sam felt like…this was what it was all about. Here it was, this was his reward. His Dean.

"What? I got something?" Dean asked, wiped at his face and threw the napkin at Sam, chugged half his beer, and turned to Sam. "Hey, Sammy—" he burped out 'how are you?' and waggled his eyebrows.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're, what—thirty-two going on twelve?"

Dean snickered. "You know you love it."

Sam handed Dean the rest of his fries. "Um. Something like that."




"One more," Dean said "One more, and then we'll go."

Sam sighed, licked the rim of his glass and peered at his brother. "Yeah, one more." Which really meant a few more before Dean found a hookup, and used to mean, when they moved day by day, leaving Sam to walk alone back to their room—or making Sam sleep in the backseat of the car. He scowled. Not fun memories.

He looked around the bar. Two could play that game. Shit, he should beat Dean to the punch, let god's gift to women see how he liked trying to pretzel his ass into the backseat to sleep. He caught the eye of a long, lean, girl, back against the bar, hips titled out to the room and a look on her face that was open, appraising. She met Sam's eyes and smiled. He stood, and was about to head her way when Dean grabbed his arm.

"Come outside with me, I feel like a smoke."

"What? No you don't," Sam said. "You don't smoke, remember?"

"Just because you believe a thing, don’t make it true for the rest of the world," Dean smirked. "Come on." He handed Sam his beer and grabbed his sleeve, and almost pushed him out the door. "You can thank me later, dude," he laughed and Sam tried to ferret out what he meant.

"Thank you? Dude—you cock-blocked me," Sam groused, stumbling a little in the dark.

His brother shook his head. "Nah, I saved you. She was trouble. She came in with that guy who was about ten feet wide—you didn’t see him?"

Sam blinked and looked around him—Dean had shoved him all the way to the back of the lot where his Precious was parked safely away from thugs and other car doors. He pushed Sam against it before he flopped next to Sam, looked him up and down, and snickered. "Maybe I should have let you try and talk to her—"

Sam felt a little flare of hurt. Dean wanted to see him get his ass kicked, did he? Well, sure he would after all—

"Man, it would have been kind of worth it to see that guy's face when you kicked his ass all over the bar. He looked like he could have stood taking down a peg or two. And you would have been the one to do it." Dean gave him a look, so proud, so full of everything Sam hadn’t seen since he was a teen. It made his head swim, and made him blush hot—felt it rise in his face, and roll right down to his chest…he ducked his head and swigged beer like it was a lifeline. Dean laughed and rolled over the fender, ended up in front of Sam. Between his legs, actually. Sam swallowed, froze.

"You're drunk."

"Oh man, yeah. So drunk." He sounded proud of it. He giggled and dropped his head onto Sam's chest. "Man, I'm so drunk. It was a great job, right?"

"Oh yeah," Sam said. "You almost got eaten by a giant cross between Shamu and a snake, I almost choked to death…yeah, it was great." He laughed and reached up, rubbed the back of Dean's neck, up through his hair, rubbed against the back of his skull until Dean just sighed and his body loosened. "It was fun."

"And we won," Dean mumbled hot and damp against Sam's chest, the warmth spreading. "We won, and that's all that counts right. Do over; clean slate…"

Sam got it. Dean wasn't talking about the job any more; he was somewhere else, some other time. "It's all over, Sam, all that bad stuff. You know I forgave you right? Do you forgive me?"

"For what Dean, there's nothing to forgive. You were right and I was wrong and—"

Dean shook his head violently, rucking up Sam's t-shirt. "No. Not right or wrong. We both wanted the same thing. For it to end well. We want the same thing, right," he said and lifted his head, speared Sam with a hot glare and Sam felt himself harden in his jeans. He saw the moment Dean felt it and panicked, waited for his brother to fling himself away, but he didn't…his eyes dropped shut and he gave a tentative press back with his hips, and a slight move that barely rubbed their dicks together. He moaned, but Sam almost missed it, making his own noise. And Dean reached up and pulled his head down and brushed his mouth over Sam's and Sam shook, his hips jerked up towards Dean. "God, god, god….I think, I think…"

"Sammy. Shhh."

It was everything he thought it would be. More. Sam's mouth watered, Dean was that delicious, just like he knew he would be. Ripe, like summer peaches, sweet and tart at once. Hot inside, juicy wet. He sucked Dean's tongue like it was candy, whimpering because he wanted something more in his mouth, wanted it now. He touched all of Dean that he could, slid his hands up under Dean's t-shirt, swept his thumbs over hard nipples and marveled, how soft his body hair was, how warm his skin. How hot and hard his dick was, pressed against Sam's leg. "Dean, let me suck you," he moaned. "Please."

Dean blinked, and stepped back, red slick lips framing a smile wide as ocean. His hand slid across Sam's chest, over his heart. Pressed there, a hot weight, before sliding down to Sam's waist, curling around his hip, and then off. "Damn Sammy, I'm really fuckin' drunk, dude. Take me back to the room?" He grinned and grinned and weaved like a willow in a storm.

By the time they got back to their motel, Dean was out on his feet, and Sam had to wrestle him into the bed, pry off his shoes. As soon as his head touched the pillow, Dean rolled to his side and threw an arm over his face, mouth open, breath groaning in and out of him. Sam watched him for a while, his heart thumping, his own breath caught in his throat. This was going to be bad. He knew Dean…with any luck, he'd pretend to forget. It hurt. But better this hurt than nothing at all.
*****
Sam woke up out of dark, sticky, bottomless dreams with the feeling that he'd finally broken his brother and himself for good. He expected to be in the room alone, accepted that he would be, maybe a note on the bed and Dean's bags gone—but his brother was in the next bed, curled like a snail and breathing deep and steady. The relief Sam felt was overwhelming, and swallowed in the next breath by the knowledge that they were still broken. Dean was going to blame him for everything, or act like there'd been nothing—

Dean woke with a groan. Made a huge production of stretching, rubbed his eyes and smacked dry lips. He cursed some under his breath before he caught Sam looking, and miracles of miracles, he smiled. His voice was morning rough but cheerful. "G'morning, Sas. You're up—that means you brought me coffee, right?"

Sam was startled into laughter. "Not yet."

Dean flopped back on the bed. He stretched out one arm and snapped his fingers imperiously. "Go bitch, bring me caffeine. Now."

It was…okay? They were going to be okay? Sam took the first real breath he'd managed since waking.



part 4

Comments

[cha.livejournal.com]

Whoa - there's enough tension in this part to kill me! Poor muddled Sammy. Oh! the peach thing with the kiss - brilliant!

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

*BLUSH*

Thank you so much! It's terrible, the boy's mouth just makes me think of delicious fruits!

[rednihilist.livejournal.com]

Aw, man! I was so in love with those boys, right up until. . . and then Dean backed off. *pouts*

Oh, but this is lovely and why haven't I read it sooner? Ack! I'm caught up now, though, and ready for more! So. More? :) You write these guys so well, hon! I can't get over how true these actions and thoughts read. I mean, your stuff here goes beyond Show in fleshing these guys out (heh. fleshing.).

Stuff like: "Hey, Sammy—" he burped out 'how are you?' and waggled his eyebrows.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're, what—thirty-two going on twelve?"

Dean snickered. "You know you love it."

Sam handed Dean the rest of his fries. "Um. Something like that."

Dude! That is so them right there!! Oh, is it possible to love anything as much as I love your writing? I think not. Just wonderful job here, hon. You're ridiculously talented. I'm so glad I stumbled onto your stuff. Whenever I read crap fic and despair, or when fandom peeps in general make me gag, that's when you always come in and post something amazing and well written. You trump all embarrassing and bad fic, hon, and embarrassing and bad fans, too! *snuggles you* Oh, thank Jebus for roxy!!

*waves palm branch and offers you chocolate on platter*

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

eeeeeee! You make me run and hide--I hardly deserve all that, oh my! I'm insanely happy that you think the boys ring true here! It's a relief just to write them, without adjusting for time and place so much, lol! I love making them snark at each other--I think snark is the purest form of love! *GRINS*

Thanks for reading love, and more will be coming, oh yes!

*HUUUUG*

[tabaqui]

Dean shook his head like a fond uncle. Memories, no doubt, of nearly murdering his own younger brother. Younger Brother made an enormous effort not to step on his older brother's instep.

Bweeeeeeee!! Exactly. Heeeee! Oh, man, the bottle rocket fights and 'dunking' in the pool that could have ended so badly.....

Heh. I love Dean being the big authority figure.

And oh, Sam.
*pets him*

Finding out about Dean, and wanting him so damn much, just nursing his love along....
*sniffle*

AND THEN! You give us *this* ending, holding out some hope somewhere but knowing you, it's gonna all be screaming and horror before we get to be happily ever after!!
:)

Damn you, i want some freakin' fresh cod now, and clam chowder from the Grub and Grog....
*flails*

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Damn you, i want some freakin' fresh cod now, and clam chowder from the Grub and Grog....
*flails*

OMG, I know!!! I was STARVING for fried oysters by the time I finished that bit! *GGG*

Man, we all know that Dean loves Sam, but you know they made each others lives miserable--probably Dean more so than Sam--in between the happy love moments. It's the law!

as for the screaming and horror...well...*LOOK*! SHINY!!!
runs

[mdlaw.livejournal.com]

This was a great chapter. m :)

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

*BEAMS*

Thank you so much!!!

[locknkey.livejournal.com]

You really have the dynamic between the two of them - the brotherly competition, snarky dialogue and genuine affection.

This is a joy to read!

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Ach, you know you make me blush! It makes me smile so much when you say that because I *adore* the way you write them! Thank you a million times! :)

[de-nugis.livejournal.com]

I love this! The snark and the banter (hee:

"What—oh my god, I swear when we get back to the hotel, I'm going to drug you and cut your kidneys out and sell them."

Dean looked thoughtful for a moment, and said, "And then can we buy a pony?"),
and underlying it the one step forward, two steps back progress of the relationship, and the wonderfully awkward conversations when they try to communicate in non-snark mode, and Dean all proud imagining Sam kicking big, mean guy around (I LOVE Dean being proud of Sam in any context).

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much--for reading and for commenting!

Dean all proud imagining Sam kicking big, mean guy around (I LOVE Dean being proud of Sam in any context).

Oh yeah! It's not often they show that part of themselves, the pride they have in each other, but when they do--*happysigh* :)

[lazy-8s.livejournal.com]

For Sam, this is like one step forward and two steps back, each time he thinks that Dean might want him the same way that he wants Dean. His internal angst is just so awesome,as was this chapter.

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Goodness, thank you very much! Poor Sam, he is doing this constant little shuffle between "this is good" and "this is bad" trying to work off clues he thinks he sees in Dean and now, Dean's gone and confused the hell out of him...oy!

[mlebayre.livejournal.com]

Great chapter!

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

*beams* Thank you so very much for reading this!

[theatervine.livejournal.com]

Oh this was spine tingling, great chapter!

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

*BEAMS*
Yay, I'm glad you liked it!

*and hugs--thanks so much for reading!*

[theatervine.livejournal.com]

You're welcome!

[runedgirl.livejournal.com]

This is a lovely verse, full of tension and longing, and the boys sounds just like themselves :) Thanks for sharing!

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Oh my, thanks so very much for the wonderful compliment, and for taking the time to read this! *beams*

impossible part 3

[auroramama]

I almost whined out loud when I got to the end of this part, I was so impatient for more. But I'm pretty sure I haven't read the first two parts. Mmmm, nice.

Yes, Dean's coloring (I don't know what Jensen looks like un-made-up) is definitely peaches and cream. Very warm and, um, ripe. As opposed to roses and milk, at the cool end of the continuum, often with blue eyes rather than green. And then there's the occasional in-between, like Steven Pacey, with eyes almost blue-green: strawberries and half-and-half.

I need to get out more.

Re: impossible part 3

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Goodness! Sorry to tease, but also very pleased that you were that caught up!

Your comment made me hungry! *koff* And contemplative...*G*

[jackien1968.livejournal.com]

Hi, roxymissrose.

I finally saw cha's rec from mid-June, and I read all 3 parts pretty much in one sitting. I did sleep in between, but finished it before eating breakfast. I got really hungry! You write an awesome Dean and an awesome Sam. Can't wait to read the next part.

Ack, what am I doing starting another fic when I'm like 3 weeks behind on my flist!

My former girlfriend's last name is Rose, and I used to call her Miss Rose and Missy Rose a lot and it made her blush and giggle.

Best regards,
Jackie

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Hi there!

Thanks so much for the fabulous compliments! I'm always thrilled when someone likes the way I write the boys--you always hope to get it right, y'know? The next part is coming but slower than the other parts, I always bang out of the gate like gangbusters then start slowing up. :)

My former girlfriend's last name is Rose, and I used to call her Miss Rose and Missy Rose a lot and it made her blush and giggle.

ha! Roses are known for blushing! I'm a little long in the tooth for giggling or blushing, but I've been known to do both on occasion! *G*

[jackien1968.livejournal.com]

My girl was too old for that too, that's what was totally awesome and adorable about it. When we dated I was 31 and she was 40. Gah! That means it was 11 years ago! She thought she was too old for me, and was insecure and cooked up reasons to think I had low standards. Dumped me by answering machine. *sigh*

11 years! I seriously need to date again. I was struggling to finish college for 7 (OMFG, right?) of those years (B.S. Cell and Molecular Biology, Jun. 2008, woo hoo! (GPA 3.5 *whew*)), but still. One college girl seemed interested, around 4 years ago when I was around 38, but then didn't answer my email; I'm guessing when I bent over her desk to write down my contact info. she discovered my droopy boobs; whatevs.

Take care,
Jackie

[myownghost.livejournal.com]

>Bi, dude. That's what it means.

i always like your dialogue! and i'm glad dean has either forgotten (not likely) or decided to let it slide.

[twinsarein.livejournal.com]

Oh god, I was laughing during a lot of that water baby bit, especially the end when Sam is reacting to what they still have to do before it's over.

Also, Dean tried a guy? *Falls off chair* That's going to open a can of worms for poor Sammy.

That kiss at the bar - whoosh, I went up in flames. Amazing how so little can be so intense. I felt for poor Sammy when he knew how things were going to go when he realized how drunk Dean was.

I loved your description of how proud Dean was of Sam, though, and Sam's reaction to it. Sam so would have wiped the floor with the woman's big boyfriend.

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

Yay!!

I'm so pleased! Your reactions are just what I hoped for from the reader! *HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUG*

[helen-beck.livejournal.com]

Your characterisation is so real it's like something new beyond just the usual "Wincest." I feel everything Sam is feeling to such a fine degree...I can only call it Proustian. Amazing.

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

oh my goodness, I actually blushed when I read this. I don't think there's a higher compliment a fanfic writer can receive! Thank you *so* much for reading!