Author's Note I tried to put an insane type of humor in Sam. He deserves to be funny!
Prompt from daftpan via tumblr.
This is getting really awkward.
This is beyond awkward, actually. Completely off the wall, why the heck is this happening awkward.
One minute, The Devil is screaming in my ear, telling me to suck it up and kill someone. And the next? You know what-the-freaking next he does? He cuddles.
Cuddles.
What kind of derange, psychotic heap of brain mass likes to murder people and then follow it through with freaking cuddling?
Oh, right, that must be The freaking Devil.
"What's your problem?" Dean asks, overlooking the mourning paper while taking careful sips of his still scolding coffee. The steam is waving out of the cup, brushing against Dean's skin. We are at a diner, trying to enjoy a peaceful meal.
"Nothing," I mutter under my breath in hopes of staving off the "hey I'm going freaking insane over here, hello!" talk I know is coming. Of all the things the jerk wants to talk about he chooses the worst.
I guess I should back track. I lost my soul, Death brought it back for me, yada yada. The wall he put up was broken thanks to my best angel buddy ever, Cas, and now I'm looking straight at hallucinations of Lucifer and his damned terrible humor. And I thought Dean was bad.
And if you can't tell already, his stupid, maniacal obsession with killing things and making bad jokes about it has rubbed off on me. I haven't been more sarcastic and mentally deranged since Meg possessed me all those years ago and, to tell the truth, it's almost refreshing. It's nice not to have to be uppity and sweet to everyone. And guess who I get to blame it on?
Well, that was at first, anyway. Now all I see is Lucifer, day in and day out. And the worst part isn't even the bad singing, the deaths threats, the "lets kill Dean fifty different ways", or even the flash-backs of hell. No, the worst part is the cuddling.
No, I will not let this go.
The waitress comes by a few minutes later, gawking at how handsome Dean is. Which, at this point, has gotten old. The guy is pushing forty and he still attracts every beautiful woman available. I got over the shock a long time ago, but I won't lie and say it doesn't baffle me. Hell, it's nice to see some real human interaction. All I get now is Lucifer trying to be my best friend so we can take over the world, or something like that.
I huff, frustrated because The freaking Devil decided to start singing "I'm So Pretty". Dean looks up at me, confused, and I just shake my head.
"I'll be in the car."
"Wait, Sam-," I hear him protest, but he's so far gone to me now that I just walk right out the door.
The only thing I feel these days is anger, sadness, loneliness, and Lucifer. So, when we get back to the motel and Dean decids to call first shower, I don't complain. I just sit on my bed, the one farthest from the door, and wrap up in my scratchy motel blanket. The tap spits on, rhythmic sputters running through the pipes. I try to tune in on it, lull myself to sleep with it. But then I feel a warm body press up against me, I start with a jump.
The water is still running. Dean is still in the bathroom because I didn't hear the door open. No, the only possible explanation is a totally insane one.
I look over my shoulder and I see Lucifer smiling at me, sinister, but somehow gentle. However The Devil can be gentle, anyway.
"Hey, Sammy-Boy, Ya gonna let me cuddle with you tonight?"
I am so far gone, so tired, I just turn my head back around and dig it into the pillow. Maybe I'll fall asleep fast enough to never remember this.
As much as I hate to say it, though, it is kind of nice. Kind of really nice. I haven't been sane enough for any type of human contact in over three months. And his body is somehow warm, and somehow I feel safe. I feel loved. For just a second, I'll let myself feel that. Maybe I can pretend it's Jess. Jess liked to cuddle.
But maybe I just like it all together. Maybe I shouldn't push him away. Obviously that's the most psychotic thing I could say to myself, but hell, I'm already half way there, right?
His chest is flush against my back and oddly enough, he's taking care to pretend to breath. It's oddly relaxing, but then again, everything is odd about this.
"I know you like it, Sammy. Just let it happen," He says, then pauses for a moment before adding, "Or, we could do other things."
I feel his hand curl up from my back to my chest and down toward my jeans and I just flip. I shove his hand away, toss around, and yell.
"No way am I letting The Devil touch anything of mine!" I yell, catching sight of Dean half way out of the bathroom door. My eyes go wide and I feel my face flush.
God damn devil.