(no subject)

“Tell me this is some kind of sick illusion or –spell. Or something. This. This can’t actually be happening, right?”


Sam shakes his head, sighing. He passes both palms over his face. His brother won’t like the answer.


“It’s not, Dean.”


“Cas!” Dean calls.


Of course. As if the situation isn’t bad enough as it is.


“Dean-“


“It’s a family thing. Sorry, but this involves all of us.”


“Since when?”


Cas rushes in the room. Dean’s tone was fairly alarming, so Sam’s not surprised.


“What’s wrong?”


“Sam and Jack.”

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(no subject)

Dean looks up from the table, meet Sam's eyes again.


“Do you, like… love him? Want the whole deal?”


Sam realizes he hasn't stopped to think about that.


“Uh, I. I don’t know. I obviously care about him but love is a very strong word.”


“So you’re not only sleeping with Lucifer’s son. You’re just sleeping with Lucifer’s son.”


Sam isn't sure he can deny that, so he bickers about something else.


“He’s got a name.”


“And he’s still Lucifer’s son,” Dean states.

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(no subject)

«Что мы делаем, когда приходим в редкопейринг?»
Мы ноем, дорогой друг! Мы охрененно много ноем 

Как минимум половина фиков построены на том, что Джек хочет выяснить про секс и обращается за этим к Сэму.
Нет, ну я понимаю, что оно напрашивается (оно и в каноне напрашивается, кстати; все-таки он наполовину человек)) - но, блин, сколько можно-то?
У меня, между прочим, всего 231 фик; минус омегаверс, который я не читаю, минус тройнички, минус джемми как фон для дестиэля - каждое такое "Сэм, что мне делать с этой штукой между ног?" уменьшает надежду на по-настоящему хорошую историю.
Не говоря о том, что я изначально хочу невозможного: чтобы и Сэм был в характере - при этом ясно осознавая, что в характере он бы никогда 
Для меня и в винцесте Дин бы никогда, но это мне почему-то не мешает)) Наверно, потому, что у меня все-таки фокус внимания на Сэме, и вот с Дином он бы да, а с Джеком нет.
Сэмми, плиииз, я так хочу этот пейринг 
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(no subject)

Sam's worry used to bother Jack back when he thought it meant Sam still considered him a child. Jack soon came to realize that worry is what Sam does best. He worries over Dean, over Castiel, over the cases, over anything that could be worried over, and many things that shouldn't be.

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Only when the house is cleared does Sam’s anxiety drop to a more manageable level. Sadness, guilt, regret sink in as he looks over the bodies of the dead werewolves. Dean’s usually satisfied by the end of a hunt. To him, werewolves and most other monsters stop being human when they transform. Friends are an exception and, once you've earned Dean's trust, he'll do anything for you, but until then, watch out. To Castiel, humans and monsters are all creatures and are treated the same: mostly with indifference. With Sam, it’s different. He always sees the person, no matter how much the monster took over. He sees himself.

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“Untie me,” Sam says, firm, and he somehow hates himself more than he did before. He won't even look at Jack and Jack knows that if he lets him leave, Sam will stuff everything that happened tonight deep inside him and never let it see the light of day, even as it tears him to pieces. Jack can't let that happen.


“No,” Jack says as he leaves the bed.


“No...?” It's not what Sam expects. Surprise fills him, quickly followed by determination. He pulls himself up and reaches into the hair behind his ear, retrieving a thin device, which he sticks in the lock of his cuffs.


Stepping over, Jack takes it away and slips it into his back pocket.


“Hey!” Annoyance flows out hot and thick. Jack doesn't mind annoyed; there's no heat there. Sam isn't scared of him or actually mad at him. Sam’s never been mad at him, even when Jack accidentally destroyed part of the library while training. Disappointed, yes, but never mad.

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