Fields OF Jasmine
Chapter 9 ~ Jeans & Dresses
Dean rushed to their side and dropped to his knees, crushing a cookie with his left knee. It made him notice, in the back of his mind, that there were cookies everywhere, all over the kitchen-floor.
"Shit. What happened?" Dean's fingertips found Sam's pulse on his neck.
Sam was wheezing in a strangled breath, muscles taut and eyes wide open, staring into space. His pupils were dilated, the hazel barely visible, as his lips moved as if he was talking.
Venire tredecim diabolus.
White glowing eyes in the darkness were staring at him mockingly. Snarls and growls surrounded him, as he tore on his bindings, trying to free himself.
There was this white hot pain building up in his stomach as if something was cutting through his guts, stabbing him. What had started as an ache, increased mercilessly until he felt himself on the verge of passing out.
He yelled, crying outt in agony.
Warm liquid was filling his mouth, the taste of copper and salt and Sam called it in his mind for what it was. Blood.
Venire tredecim diabolus – his lips moved without him realizing. Crimson red spatters tainting his cheeks and chin as he dared to choke.
Venire tredecim diabolus.
And then there was a haze of white glowing dots surrounded by darkness and warmth filling his lungs as he breathed in more and more of the scarlet fluid.
Venire tredecim diabolus.
"Venire tredecim diabolus," Dean spoke along with the movements of the omega's lips. He had shooed Bobby away, so that he was leaning over Sam now; one hand braced against the wooden floor, the other one on his cheek, rubbing with his thumb along the omega's cheekbone.
"C'mon, kiddo," Dean whispered.
Sam's hands found their way into Dean's jacket, fisting it, holding onto it. He then blinked. Once, twice, three times and his pupils adjusted to the daylight illuminating the kitchen. The omega drew in a shuddering deep breath, feeling his rib-cage expand and then he exhaled slowly.
Sam made a choking sound as his lips continued to move along the lines of venire tredecim diabolus a few times more, until he was able to say them out loud.
"Venire tredecim diabolus," he murmured absently, his eyes starting to take in his surroundings, noticing where he was – where he had been before darkness had sucked him down.
"What happened?" Dean caught the man's distressed gaze and held it. "Sam - Look at me," he demanded when the younger man attempted to continue to search the room he was in with his eyes.
Sam obeyed, drawn into the here and now by the alpha's gravely voice. He gave him a jerky nod.
"You okay?" Dean's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"We were about to get the cookies. The bastards slipped out of the bag and rained down on us and the next moment Sam was on the floor, seizing." Bobby answered the ex-hunter's question from before.
"I'm ... I ... headache," Sam murmured, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again. There was a stabbing pain behind his eyes and stomach-cramps. His left hand fluttered over his belly. "Am I okay?"
Sam rose his hand and stared at it if something wasn't right, but there was nothing. Sam didn't see a damn thing, and yet it felt wrong. As if .. as if he was supposed to see something.
"You're tellin' us, boy." Bobby got up with a grunt, his joints popping.
"You'll be." Dean sat back on his heels. "You hurtin' somewhere else besides your head?"
He shared a knowing look with Bobby, telling him without words that this wasn't coincidence, that this had to mean something. The way Sam had looked at his palm after brushing it over his lower belly, the horrified look all over his face and the utter terror in his eyes.
Sam shook his head carefully. "Don't think so," he murmured, all power taken from his voice, as it sounded thin and barely there. He brushed over his belly again.
Dean got up too and extended his hand. "C'mon. Up you go."
Sam took it and pulled himself up with a groan, standing hunched over and not quite straight.
"C'mon. Sit down first." Dean hooked his arm under Sam's and guided him to the kitchen table where he let him sit down on one of the chairs. He squatted down before Sam, nudged his knees apart and leaned forward, bracing his lower arms on his thighs as he looked up at him. "Better when you're sittin' down?"
The omega nodded again. "Yeah."
Bobby came with glass of water and a middle-sized white pill and handed it to Dean who made the younger man drink half of it to swallow with the pill before he let him sat it on the table. Though, he looked miserable and shaken.
"What'd you see?" Dean asked, not quite sure how he was able to tell that Sam had seen something at all. He reached up and brushed Sam's hair out of his face and tugged it behind his ear where it wouldn't hide most of his face and specially not the scar.
The omega made an attempt to pull away and reach up to brush the hair back to where it belonged to, but Dean shook his head while holding his gaze. He tried to not look there.
"What'd you see?" he asked again, this time softer and less urgent.
The omega drew in a breath, smelling the alpha's reassuring scent. It made him feel a bit safer and calmer again and it was obviously loosening his tongue along with it. Every fibre in his body told him not to tell the hunter, not to let them know what a crazy freak he was. But those big emerald eyes were looking warmly at him, promising him that it'd be good, that it'd be okay.
"I don't know ... It was weird." Sam thought for a long moment, trying to latch onto those memories before they would fade away. Before he would make them fade away. "White glowing eyes staring at me," he whispered softly. "Snarling and growling. And ... anger. I could smell anger and ... and something old and ... I know there was someone else there, but I couldn't see it, or them. It was too dark. I ..." His voice broke. "It hurt and ... then I was drowning ... and then I was here again." He cast his look down, not wanting to see Dean's nor Bobby's expression.
Dean leaned a bit closer and tipped the younger man's chin up again, making him face him.
"Venire tredecim diabolus," Sam whispered, looking anxiously at Dean and then up at Bobby who was standing mere feet away. "What does that mean? Venire tredecim diabolus?"
The alpha's jaw was set, his eyes seeming to see a threat instead of Sam. "The thirteen devils are coming," he answered calmly. "That's what you said."
Bobby washed a hand over his face. "That ain't soundin' like fun, boys." He adjusted his ball cap.
The omega's eyes teared up and he thrust his jaw forward as his throat started to close up on him.
"What does that mean?" He looked from Bobby back at Dean. "What does that mean?" he asked again, this time addressing the ex-hunter.
"We'll find out, okay?" Dean tried to smile, but failed miserably. How was he supposed to reassure someone that everything would be okay when he didn't know if it was? "You mentioned something ... animalistic ... when we were talking about what had happened to you- Do you remember?"
Sam gave him a jerking nod, the fingers of his left hand intertwined with the ones of his right. "Yeah," he breathed.
"So we need to know if this ... animal ... was the same you saw in your vision, Sammy," Dean spoke softly but firmly. "It's important."
Sam felt a comfortable warmth spread in his lower belly at the nickname the alpha had given him and it made him smile a bit too. It made his racing thoughts calm down. Yeah, maybe Sammy sounded like he was a chubby six year old, but when Dean said it ... it sounded different. It was comfort.
"I don't know. I didn't see them there," he answered honestly. "Henry's pet didn't have white eyes. – They'd been black."
Dean huffed out a breath.
Bobby sighed. "I've some old books in my library – Maybe you'd like to skip through them? See if you can look into them? See if you find Savenger's pet?"
Sam nodded again, only hesitantly though. Even if he didn't want to ... he wanted to help. He needed to help.
"Thank you." Bobby smiled at him and then looked around the kitchen. Then he waved his hand at the cookies plastering the floor. "Guess that's it with milk and chocolate-chip-cookies," he muttered.
Dean grinned. "Got Oreo's." Dean's grin widened. "We'll clean that mess up later." He looked from Bobby to Sam, making him look up again. "What'd you say? We show you how you're supposed to eat Oreos the proper way." He wiggled his eyebrows.
Bobby grumbled something about crumbs and mess and that he was supposed to act like a grown up. But Dean didn't seem to listen.
Sam chuckled and sniffed. "Yeah?"
"Yeah - And then you're gonna try on your new shoes and clothes." He pursed his lips. "That's an idea?"
The omega nodded, with a smile tugging on his lips.
Dean squeezed the younger man's thigh and petted it then. "Good. Then lets' go and see where I put the Oreos."
They stood up and moved into the living room. Bobby got the milk from the fridge and Dean put the two giant bags with sweets onto the kitchen table. He rummaged through them until he had found the Oreos and went into the living room, where Bobby and Sam were already sitting on the couch.
Dean eyed the file of the victims curiously and then at Bobby, who shook his head.
"I read through it," Sam said calmly and reached forward to close it. "They died five to nine months after their abductions, but not all of them were gone for so long. Three of them turned up a couple of months later at the doorsteps of their families and were killed later on." Sam didn't look at either of them. "But the two who where gone for nine months didn't come home before they turned up mauled."
Bobby huffed out a breath. "It's not written in the reports."
"No. But it'd make sense. Ten of them were found by family-members or close to their homes. The other two didn't and they were found by a jogger and one by a hunter. And there had only been one death since I was taken. Six months ago."
"That's weird," Dean muttered.
Sam took a sip from the milk and leaned back on the couch. Suddenly he felt bone-tired and exhausted. "If I'm one of them ... then I've how long? Five to seven months until they're going to come for me?" He didn't talk to either the beta or the alpha, he was rather talking to himself. "They're going to come for me, aren't they? That's what those visions mean. There are twelve victims so far and there are thirteen pairs of eyes - You think it's going to end when they kill me?" There was something hopeful in his eyes, his face, his whole appearance now.
That was ridiculous. "No one's going to kill you. We'll take care of it. No one's gettin' to you, you'll see."
"Henry's dead." Sam sighed. He looked so sad. Heartbroken. "You think it ended with him?"
That was rather unlikely, Bobby and Dean knew it. They were talking about a vamp's nest which simply vanished – which was absurd. So whatever was going on, it wasn't just over.
"No, I don't think so," Dean whispered.
"What if I'm the bait? What if you ... I don't know ... use me somehow. Make them come for me ..." Sam got stopped by a hand right in his face and a disapproving growl.
"We're not going there, Sam." Dean looked at him sternly. "That's not how we do things." he looked over at Bobby, who was listening intently, but staring at the far wall. "Right Bobby?"
The grizzled mechanic's head snapped towards them. "Sure. That's not how we work." He petted Sam's shoulder. "Where are the fucking Oreos now?"
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam eyed the shopping bags on his bed hesitantly. They seemed to be stuffed full with clothes. Clothes Dean had bought for him.
He found himself torn between anticipation and fear. If he'd take the man's offer, he'd owe him even more. And he couldn't repay him. Not anytime soon at least.
Sam frowned at his own thoughts.
After eyeing the bags some more, he decided that it didn't matter. He'd need some more pieces to put on ... and those boots he had weren't the best fitting either.
With a deep sigh, he pulled one of the bags closer and lurked inside. There was blue and plaid. Similar to the things he was wearing right now.
Sam couldn't hide a small smile as he pulled a pair of jeans from the bag and held them up to have a closer look at those. Sam tried it all on. The jeans were a bit loose, but the belt held them up quite perfectly.
Though, the shirts fitted pretty well underneath the plaid button downs. He abandoned the clothes he had worn for two days now at the foot of the bed and slipped into the black hoodie. He then tried the boots.
12.5 seemed to be his size.
He then tried the slippers. Which fitted perfectly well too. Sam wiggled his sock-clad toes inside of them. His smile was blinding.
"You done in there, princess?" he heard Dean call from the living room.
Sam hummed. Those clothes felt nice. The hoodie was soft. The slippers fit. What could he want more? A roof over his head. Clothes. Shoes. Food.
"Sam!?" he heard the alpha call again.
"'comin!" Sam called back as he was already on his way out of his bedroom.
Dean's head jerked up and towards Sam, a slow smile building on those pouty lips. "The smaller shoes won't fit. Sorry." Sam shrugged, looking to the ground shyly. "Thank you for the things you bought me." His cheeks blushed a tender red.
"You like them?" The alpha wasn't concerned about the money. He was curious if Sam'd like them.
And he obviously did. The way his big hands ran over the fabric of his hoodie – it said everything.
"They're real nice." He beamed at the ex-hunter, his cheeks even redder. "And warm."
"That's cool." Dean inhaled, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "So ..." He blinked his lashes at Sam, straightening up and tugged his shoulders straight, making it legit to be called an alpha. Showing his broad chest, his wild green eyes, firm thighs clad by denim, strong arms and muscles.
"So ..." Sam repeated Dean's word, drawing it out some more – close to seductively – without even realizing.
"You good to visit Bobby? Check some books?" he smiled a bit.
"I'll just get my jacket." Sam murmured and turned around to disappear back in his room.
He came back out a minute later, wearing a black leather bomber jacket, a dark brown cozy-looking lining tugging out from the collar.
Okay, he may not have needed to buy exactly THIS ONE for Sam. But hell, how he imagined the jacket would fit him perfectly. And damn, if he hadn't been right about that. There was some extra space inside the jacket, but Sam'd need it. He had to pick up more weight and Dean didn't want him to not fit into the jacket anymore later on.
Sam beamed at him. His face all dimples and shiny eyes. A broad smile and even more dimples.
They stood there, looking at each other over the distance. Dean couldn't but check the omega out. The sweet scent of him burning into his nostrils and brain and soaking into his skin.
The omega shifted from one foot to another as he scented the earthly smell of Dean Winchester. Burning into his skin and mind, memorizing it.
They then came to an unspoken agreement to get into motion and to Bobby's.
Sam didn't take off the jacket, though it was quite warm in Bobby's house with the fireplace going. As the good host Bobby was, he made them coffee and sandwiches, which he put on the coffee table before the couch.
Dean got to work on the books of Bobby's, sorting through them until he had a quite high pile of them beside Sam, while the omega made himself comfortable right there. He watched the alpha closely, getting book after book. His gaze was trained at the ex-hunter's backside. Specially those firm perky globes working whenever he'd reach up for one of the books on one of the upper shelves.
Sam counted nine books so far. Thick, old looking books with leather covers and engravings and fancy letters. He gazed at Bobby, when the older man entered the room with a questioning look. The grizzled hunter eyed Sam's jacket with a cocked eyebrow, his lips curled up in a funny way.
Dean settled in on the other side of the couch and reached for one of the sandwiches.
Sam watched him closely, waiting for his permission to start.
Dean stopped mid-chewing and gave him a quizzical look that definitely said: "What are you waiting for?"
The omega gazed at the books and then back at Dean, again asking without words if he was allowed to start.
Dean gave him a nod, telling him that he could start. "You don't have to ask for things like that, Sam - We wanted you to have a look into the books not the other way round."
What was definitely a go for Sam and he fell over the stack of books like it was some delicious piece of meat.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Sam eventually decided that it was too warm to wear the jacket anymore and shrugged it off, but wouldn't put it aside. Instead he stuffed it behind his back using it as pillow before taking another book.
Bobby rolled his eyes and bit back a sigh that said FINALLY.
Two hours later, Sam was through another two books, but hadn't found what he was looking for yet. There were a whole lot of creatures on four legs – or two legs and a fishtail. Or some other weird looking things. He rubbed his tired eyes and pushed the book from his lap and onto the couch.
"We should stop," Dean spoke up, who had been watching Sam most of the time, like a lion a gazelle he decided to have for dessert. "We should grab some grub and go to bed." He gave him a weak smile when the omega looked up.
"I'm good." Sam lied. He lied, Dean could tell. The omega was tired. The couple of hours this morning after questioning him weren't enough to feel well rested and stay up late. His vision hadn't done him any favors either
"What about your head?" the alpha asked, worry in his voice.
It seemed to remind the grizzled mechanic about the seizure-like fit Sam had thrown earlier that day. Which set alarm-bells off in his mind. At least his facial expression told Dean so.
"Dean's right." Bobby was on his feet and across the room, taking the books from the couch which Sam hadn't looked through yet and put them on his desk. "You can go through them tomorrow."
Sam exhaled audibly and seemed to think for a moment before he nodded a yes. "I could take them with," he suggested.
Bobby was about to say yes, but caught Dean's set features and the warning headshake which definitely told him to say no. And Bobby got it without having to ask.
If he'd let Sam take those books with, he might not sleep tonight as he did the last one. It was important to figure out what was going on and what part those four-legged monsters played, but that wouldn't be of any use if Sam'd exhaust himself.
"Nah - It's fine. Dean can get them tomorrow morning." He cocked one of his bushy eyebrows. "Besides, I may need them if I'm gettin' a call or somethin'," he added, his voice a bit insecure.
Sam gave Dean a weird look over his shoulder. He knew.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
When Sam was showered and had a glass of milk and some more Oreos, he withdrew into his room and put the clothes away that lay scattered all over his bed. He then laid down, but refused to let himself drift off to sleep.
He couldn't even tell why.
So he lay under the covers, staring at the ceiling above, thinking about it all. About what had happened when he had been with Henry. What he had seen in his vision. He knew those things had something to do with each other. He knew there was more about the visions and the dreams and what had happened during the past year.
Alone thinking about that, made his stomach cramp all over again.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
That night, Dean Winchester had a dream.
None of the unpleasant kind like he sometimes used to have. Rather one of the very comfortable ones ...
It was skin against skin. And sweat. His nails dug into the soft pale skin of a back, leaving red deep marks where they held onto.
Sweet arousal compelled his muscles to flutter and contract, as he slid back into the tight hot tunnel beneath him, enveloping him.
He didn't see her face, couldn't see her. The muscles in her back were working as she pushed against him, taking him in deeper, begging him to be taken. She was writhing and moaning and through the haze of Dean's pleasure-dazed mind, he could make out that her voice wasn't quite feminine. That something was off about this.
But he couldn't care less at the moment.
This felt too good. Too much like warm apple-pie on a Sunday morning, and the success after a hunt. So much like home and family and eternity that he wouldn't even want to try and think why this could possibly feel off.
He pulled back and drove back in, driving a throaty moan from her. His nails grazed down her back and his hands settled on her hips, pulling her back into his thrust once more.
Her sweet scent – so familiar and though foreign – surrounded them like a cloud of invisible poison infiltrating his lungs. Moans and gasps fell from the ex-hunter's lips as he sped up, driving home, snapping his hips forward and pulling back, watching himself withdrawing from the tight heat slowly before he buried himself again.
She made those incredibly sweet noises whenever he'd hit her sweet spot deep inside her, her slick running down her thighs and in between her folds.
Dean closed his eyes as he bowed over her, trailing kisses along her shoulders and back, licking salty fluid from her over-heated skin, tasting her on his tongue. Jasmine. Moss. And wood.
Her voice was the one of a siren's. Luring and provoking. Seducing and calming.
He had died and was in heaven.
Dean felt his knot swell inside of her, knowing that he couldn't hold out much longer than that.
She cried out as she tensed up beneath him, locking him inside of her as her muscles spasmed around him, gasping a soft "Dean".
Dean squeezed his eyes shut as he drove home once more, a breathed "Sammy" falling from his lips.
Dean Winchester sucked in a deep breath, his rib-cage expanding fully and his eyes snapped open. He was panting. The weight between his thighs pulsing and emptying itself, wetting his boxers with sticky warm fluid.
"Fuck," he panted, desperately trying to catch his breath. "Shit." Dean felt his manhood twitch with the aftershocks of his very REAL orgasm.
His shirt was soaking wet with sweat. Pearls of salty water running down his forehead. The small hairs on the back of his neck sticking to his skin.
Dean looked down at himself as he felt the chilly air against the exposed skin where his shirt had ridden up his belly. He groaned. He didn't need to see what had happened. He could feel it very clearly.
He'd creamed himself like a teenager having his first wet dream.
Dean tried to will his racing heart down, blood roaring through his ears.
What kind of person was dreaming about shit like that? He was sick. He had to be sick. There was no way he wasn't. Because this was not okay. That was so not okay at all.
Dreaming about an omega who had been abused who ... Nope, he wasn't going there. This would not be happening, nor would he allow himself to dream about something like that ever again.
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
Despite his desperate attempts not to fall asleep, Sam drifted off into a light slumber anyway. He hadn't had another option anyway – not after all those things that had happened today.
The first thing he became aware of, was the tight heat in his lower belly, the sensation of being filled from something hard, though soft.
Sam pushed back against sweat-slick skin, taking more into him of the alpha's manhood. A throaty moan fell from his lips as he hit his sweet spot once more, making him see stars before his closed eyelids.
He writhed beneath the man, feeling him pull out and slam back into him. Blunt nails digging into the skin of his shoulders.
Instead of feeling afraid or scared, he felt safe and comfortable beneath the man. It felt like being protected, like being loved. It felt like home. So much like home in a way he hadn't felt in a lifetime.
The way the man moved behind him, pushing into him with such gentle force, stretching him wide open.
Sam couldn't hold back those noises which drove from his lips with every thrust, the thick scent of old wood and oil and musk penetrating his nose, clouding his mind. It felt like sweet poison burning down his lungs as he inhaled. The thick and heavy scent of an aroused alpha – so close.
He pushed back into him, feeling strong fingers gripping his hips tightly, drawing him back into his thrusts.
The heat and tightness in his lower belly increased, tying a firm knot into his guts, as another wave of pleasure washed over him and made him gasp and moan. He reached back with his left hand and tangled his fingers into the alpha's, holding onto them as he glided back, filling him up.
He felt his own fluids run down the inner side of his thighs, writhing and groaning against the man behind him to gain more friction.
Sam toppled over the edge without him realizing at first. His muscles spasmed and locked down around the alpha's member as he felt the knot inside of him swell. And that was all it took. A gasped "Dean" rolled over his tongue...
... And the omega's eyes snapped open, feeling himself releasing in his sweatpants, his member twitching and spasming.
There was darkness. Absolute darkness all around him. He couldn't even make out the ceiling above him as he blinked furiously.
Sam huffed out a breath in between raged gasps, his heart pounding in his chest as if he had just ... well, he had – indeed – wetted his pants with slick and ... come.
"No ..." he breathed, closing his eyes, willing his heart and breathing down. "What the hell ..."
~ 67' Chevrolet Impala ~
A week went by without any further incidents. They had fallen into an easy routine about their daily works. Dean had shown Sam how to get the central heating going and how to make fire.
Sam seemed to feel a bit easier too. He smiled more, talked more. Hell, he even stole the remote control from Dean when it was about watching TV.
Dean had continued to question Sam occasionally, not letting it seem as if he was interrogating him. Nope. Instead he managed to let it look like a casual conversation.
Jim had called twice and informed them, that the victims – of course – had all been psychics and after having a look into the police records, he had found out, that Sam had been right. That two of the victims hadn't returned home. The weirder thing about it was, that those who returned to their homes, seemed like nothing had happened. As if they had never been away – as if they had forgotten that they had been taken and maybe tortured and ... god knew what.
Psychiatrists had written, that it was a coping mechanism and that their memories would come back sooner or later. Though they didn't. At least not until the day they died. What was also mesmerizing, was the fact,that three of them had been pregnant when they had returned home and had died just days before they were supposed to give birth.
A couple of families told Jim, that they had changed though. That they were rarely going out, or were trying to not have any contact with the outer world. Which didn't fit the police-reports from after they had returned home.
Further, those three who had been pregnant had declined medical attention about their pregnancies.
Of course, Dean didn't say a single thing about that stuff to Sam until they'd know more.
So Dean caught himself more often staring at the omega's belly. After all he was partly female and ... well ... if it meant anything at all and he'd think about those dreams he had lately ... well ... there was a whole lot more feminine about the omega than he let on.
Sam though wasn't stupid. He knew that something was up, whenever Dean'd leave the cabin to pick up a phone call or make one himself. The late night visits at Bobby's without taking Sam with him. Sneaking out of the house when he thought the omega was asleep.
And all the more frustrating it was, that Sam couldn't find those animals in Bobby's old books. Not a single one looking similar to that beast ...
This weekend, Dean helped Bobby get some boxes from the attic so that he could bring them to the charity bazaar on Sunday. He had said something about old dresses and someone called Karen and that it was about time to let go of old things ... Bobby had sounded sad.
Which made Sam feel sad too.
Dean seemed as if he felt sad but didn't show it. Instead he smiled broadly – a faked smile just to mention – at Sam. Bobby told him that he could look through the boxes if he'd like something, that he could have it. He should only take care that he didn't take too much and make Dean bitching by doing so.
"I'm NEVER bitchy, old man!" Dean yelled downstairs, on his way back up towards the attic. It sounded a bit whiney though.
Sam snickered.
Bobby put yet another dusty box down inside his living room, where Sam was sitting on the couch and rummaging through another one. Sam had gotten permission to take what he liked, but also the task to put things that looked like occult pieces onto the table.
First of all, Bobby had explained to him what spell-boxes were and that he wasn't supposed to open them and NOT EVER touch what was inside of them with his bare hands.
Bobby obviously couldn't quite remember where he had put them years ago – only that there had to be some more in the attic.
Sam had found three of those engraved wooden boxes so far and had put them on the coffee table. He would've lied if he had said that he hadn't had a look into at least one of them. Though, he didn't quite understand what a keychain – actually a rabbit's foot – could possibly do to someone. But instead of following the urge of touching it, he had closed the box again and put it aside.
He put stuff from one of the dusty boxes into others, so that he'd have one where he could put the things into he wanted to keep.
There were some nice things. A bedside lamp that looked very much like one from the seventies with a brass socket and milky glass. A keychain with a Labracoun and some cassettes had found their way in there too.
He opened the box Bobby had just brought and found some rather ... girly stuff. A small case. A jewelry box to be exact, in which he found a silver bracelet, a golden ring and earrings with rose pearls.
He put it into his box, so not to forget and tell Bobby about it. Whoever this had belonged to, Robert Singer surely would be happy to have it back. There was a whole lot of paper in that box too and at the very bottom, Sam found something champagne-colored, which looked a lot like a laced tablecloth.
The omega liked what it felt like against his fingertips. Soft and it ... it looked special. So he pulled it out and had to realize that this wasn't a tablecloth at all. It was a dress. A real nice dress by the way. It's lining was soft and slippery between his fingers, while the champagne-colored lace had something rough ...
His smile widened a bit and his eyes lit up.
"Beautiful," he murmured to himself as he held it up and eyed it intently.
His first thought was what it would feel like against his skin.
His second thought was, that he couldn't be serious about even thinking about trying it on. This was for a woman and the dress wasn't even his size. Sam was a guy. He had a beard and a cock and ... well ... a vagina too.
Sam sighed, his expression darkening slightly. This wasn't how he was supposed to think. He didn't want to even go there ... He was a guy. Male. There was no way he'd try this on ... was he?
THIS was ridiculous. And wrong. He wasn't a cross-dresser. He wasn't supposed to feel like he could even LIKE that thing in his hands.
And though he did.
A rage of emotions crossed his features and he bit his lower lip.
Sam eyed the dress some more and gazed towards the hallway. Maybe he could keep it anyway. Try it on when no one was looking ...
There were heavy footfalls on the stairs and Sam's gaze flickered back at the dress. Spontaneously, he balled the dress together in his hands and put it into his own box and then hurried up to look busy with working through the other one.
He found a second dress at the very bottom. It had a rose lining and black lace. It was at least as beautiful as the last one and looked a bit bigger.
Sam took that one too, and put it at the very bottom of his own box.
Later on he found a cassette player and an old radio, which he took too. He found some more cassettes and another jewelry box.
Pretty soon the living room was littered with those boxes and Sam lost track of which one he had looked through already and which ones weren't checked on yet. So he started to mark the ones he already searched through with an X.
He found some more dresses and skirts, but left them be. They weren't as nice as those two anyway – At least that was what he told himself.
Dean came with another box into the living room and put it on top of another one. He watched Sam sort through cassette tapes for a long moment, before he brushed his hands off on his jeans and limped over beside him, having a look at the tapes himself.
Work like this – and the carrying walks up and down the stairs – made his hip and knee ache worse. He had just popped another Vicodin half an hour ago and Bobby had told him to back off and take a rest, but Dean had refused - So far. It wasn't like he had been doing anything else useful this past couple of days, had he?
"Don't know if they still work," he said, eyeing the omega from the corners of his eyes.
Dean stood so close, their shoulders were close to touching. His smile was warm and confident, so was his scent. As if he was ... happy.
Sam looked over at him, somehow hesitant. "You think?"
The alpha shrugged. "Don't know. We'll try them once we're done here, huh? Relax a bit when we're back home?" He still smiled. His emerald-green eyes bright and loving. Freckles all over his face, now more visible than otherwise in the sunbeams which shone through the window above the couch.
The omega smiled back at him, all dimples and amazingly multi-colored irises. His scent warm and sweet. Just like a comfortable omega had to smell.
"Yeah. I think I'd like that."
Sam shifted a bit, so that he was standing diagonally from the ex-hunter. Dean shifted too, matching himself to the omega. Their looks locked over the short distance. The ex-hunter's left hand somehow came to rest on Sam's hip, tugging him closer.
Sam let him. He wanted to be pulled closer. Wanted to feel the alpha. Wanted to scent him. (It was actually weird. Because Sam had thought ... he didn't know what he had been thinking.)
The air between them was electric, palpable with unspoken emotions. The hairs all over their bodies stood up in anticipation. Both felt the pull of their bodies – their souls – towards each other.
Dean pulled the omega in even closer, a low rumble erupted from his throat, when Sam would let him, not a fibre in his body protesting against it. The alpha rose his other hand, catching bangs of dark hair which were hiding the scar on Sam's face and was about to tug them behind his ear, when they both got jostled out of their magic embrace.
A loud pang was heard from upstairs, which meant that Bobby had shut the skylight and was about to come downstairs.
They pulled back and looked aside awkwardly.
Sam blushed.
Dean's cheeks tainted a faint red as he let his hand slide from the omega's hip and made a step back. He cleared his throat gingerly and huffed out an embarrassed breath.
Had he just attempted to ravish the omega right there? In the middle of Bobby's living room?
Sam turned back around towards the box, his head hanging low, brown strands of hair falling back into his face.
It took just a few seconds until footfalls were heard on the stairs and Bobby turned around the corner, covered in dust and cobwebs. He sniffed, his nose scrunched up as if he was smelling something weird, and pocketed his phone back into his jeans.
"Sam?" the older man asked to gain the omega's attention.
He looked up from his box, a cassette tape in his hands.
"Why don't you ... try them?" Bobby's voice sounded like he needed Sam to want to try them out. "I've a cassette player upstairs in the room where you've been holed up before." He smiled nervously.
Dean gave him a curious look, his arm sneaking around Sam's waist, holding him loosely in his grasp. "You tell me which ones still work, 'kay?"
"You know you both can tell me, when you've hunter-stuff to talk about, right? Or when you don't want to have me around to talk about the case ..." Sam turned out of the alpha's hold, as his fingers curled around his box and he lifted it up. "It's not a big deal." Though it was a big deal, Sam seemed kind of upset about them wanting him not around. "I wouldn't want to have me around either," he mumbled as he gripped the box tighter and left the room, aiming straight for the stairs.
Dean sighed and washed a hand over his face.
"Well ... he ain't stupid." Bobby murmured.
"It wasn't very subtle either, Bobby. So ... I guess Jim called?" Dean's gaze followed Sam until he disappeared out of his view.
Bobby bit the insides of his lips before he pursed them. "Yeah ... He thinks he found something that connects the victims." The grizzled mechanic hesitated for a moment. "Besides being psychics."
... to be continued
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