This belated and absolutely WONDERFUL entry is from Blueeyesgreen who had a legit excuse for being late and its a damn shame too since this is so awesome. The only entry to give a nod to "Incubus". Enjoy!

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Blueeyesgreen's

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"Dean…"

It was getting harder and harder to focus on anything, even his brother's…even Sammy's voice as the world faded out along the edges between the creeping exhaustion of blood loss and the warm bulk and the kisses that ought to be beyond gross because it was Sammy and yet weren't because it was Sammy, Sam who'd been all he'd ever really had and…

"Dean…?"

Now Sam's hand had replaced the kisses along Dean's jaw and…why was it frickin' sticky? So not cool, dude, 'cause hey, the kisses had at least felt… good, but Dean was not the sort of person who thought being slapped in the face was a turn on, although apparently he was the sort of person who could enjoy being kissed by his baby brother and wasn't that skeevy six ways from Sunday too. Then Dean realized that Sam's hand was sticky from the blood seeping out of the increasingly painful wound on his shoulder.

"Eyes open Dean!"

Sam's voice had gone from breathy too commanding and slightly worried, that warm bulk shifting away. Dean's eyes flew open from the pain as Sam manhandled him along the rough floor, the pain shooting from his arm pulling him out of whatever weird euphoria he'd been in.

"Watch the shoulder Sasquatch!"

The pressure on his arm released, and the world went swimmy and uncertain again but it was rough motel sheets not rough grating and the pain in his shoulder was his medallion digging in, no blood or stitches involved, and there were concerned blue eyes watching him, not hazel and… ugh!

Dean quickly sat up ramrod straight in bed and fought the urge to run to the bathroom to shower, or maybe empty his stomach, or possibly both at the same time.

"Jeez, Sasha I told you to wake him up, not molest him!" Sam snarked, coming out of said bathroom, fully dressed, with his hair still damp.

Dean remembered how way too full of people the motel room was when he saw Sarah go over to help him towel dry his freakin' long mop, and then there was Jo flinging open the curtains to let in the bright sunlight before tidying up the nest of blankets she'd been sleeping on.

"Something you want to tell me Dean? I know I'm taller than you, but…" Sasha was laughing as he scooted away, already fully dressed, cause yeah, they'd showered the night before after Sarah made them watch Fantasia in some strange form of cultural education and…

And Dean had enough experience with rationalizing dreams in his life to know that he'd been dreaming about the harpy from the movie, and about a hunt just with Sam because he desperately wanted elbow room in his road trip again, and there were kisses because of what Sasha had been up to, but…but all added up together Dean still really wanted that shower.

"Sorry," Sam was saying to him as he repacked his bag (and Dean privately thought Sam just really needed to hand Sarah a ring right then for the way she was calmly finding his dirty laundry for him), "Did I make him interrupt a good dream?" Sam finished.

"No!" Dean snapped, and when everyone looked at him oddly, he continued, "It was a freakin' nightmare okay? A harpy practically ripped my arm off and Sam was being put down a meat-grinder!"

"So where were the rest of us?" Jo teased, zipping up her duffle and putting it in the pile of stuff to go to the car.

"DREAM! You didn't exist, and trust me baby," this last bit was to the sulking incubus who was draping himself along Dean's back, pressing more of those light little kisses into his neck, "I would have much preferred it if you were there."

And that was all Dean would ever say on the subject—save that he refused to participate in any more of Sarah's ideas for cultural expansion.

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Teehee.

Crimson