ive said it before but i'll say it again, ya'll should think about what Sam and Gabriel did to all the dead Dean's in Mystery Spot. never at the same time if we're pulling canon compliance, but, Imagine It. just. sloppy seconds off a corpse. fucking bashed in skulls. fingering wounds deep. absolute and utter fucking carnography no matter whose getting first dibs on the battered and busted up corpse of dear old Dean. they should be weird about it mannnnn. okay im going to sleep now im sorry i'll stop talking about Mystery Spot forever nowâ
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no squidgeworld port yet cause shes down for maintenance, but hey, wincest post 5x19. dont worry about the samdeanbriel overtones, dont worry about it. hope ya'll enjoy!
----------------------------
âWe should trash it.â
âWeâre not trashing it.â
âDean, itâs a porno. Thereâs thousands of better ones.â
âThatâs not the point.â
âPut it in the back then.â
-/-/-/-
Dean watches it sometimes.
So does Sam.
Not because itâs hot, not because itâs good, not because itâs half decent coin in the spank bank.
Mostly cause itâs Gabriel.
It would be nice if it wasnât Gabriel with a porno âstache and entirely naked, but, itâs still Gabriel. The absence aches more than it should. The fact of the matter that heâs dead for real this time stings.
It wasnât supposed to be Lucifer that put him under.
It was meant to be one of them, Sam or Dean, not one of Gabrielâs own brothers.
-/-/-/-
âHey, Dean,â Sam starts.
A hum.
âRemember when we first met Gabriel?â
A scoff. âYeah. Wild night.â
âYou think he was propositioning us when he was bragging about having loads of sex?â
Dean nearly chokes. âSamâ!â
âWhat? Iâm just spitballing, jeez.â
Thereâs a long stretch of silence.
âHe definitely knew it couldâve happened,â Sam mused. âHe was an angel.â
âYeah. The real question is if you wouldâve said yes to the janitor,â Dean pressed back.
And they both know the answer is no.
Theyâve barely even humored letting Castiel in.
A janitor they had just met?
It never wouldâve happened.
Not too soon to say it wouldâve been nice.
-/-/-/-
Sam kisses Dean like an animal once he learns that Dean got to kiss Gabriel, like heâll pick up a trace of the dead.
He knows he wonât.
He knows itâs too late.
He still puts bite behind his kiss.
Dean snaps a hand over Samâs mouth. âJesus, calm down.â Breathy, but aware. âHe didnât put his tongue down my throat.â
Sam rolled his eyes.
âIt was a good luck kiss in The Impala.â
Sam pries away Deanâs hands. âIn The Impala?â
âWhere else?â
Where else. When else. How else.
It couldâve only been in The Impala.
The same Impala theyâve shared so many times. Kissing. Sleeping. Fucking. Chatting. The one saturated with everything they are and everything they love.
Samâs breath hitches.
Dean catches it and hoops his arm around Samâs shoulders and the base of his neck. Itâs a rough hug, if it can even be called that. The gesture is taken wholeheartedly.
-/-/-/-
Sam called it proxy sex once.
They both know they canât call it that when theyâve been sleeping together since long before Gabriel happened.
What else is there to call the weird desperation to get every drop of Gabriel out of each other, though? Itâs not grief, thatâs for sure. Itâs not mourning either, nor is it melancholy. Maybe desperation is the only good word for it.
Desperate is an ugly word though. Itâs too raw and unrefined. Everyone knows what desperate means.
You canât be desperate for something thats dead.
So proxy sex is what it is, because what else could it be?
-/-/-/-
âYou think he actually was into getting bitten?â Dean asked.
Sam shrugged. âItâs a porno.â
âYeah, I know that, but, do you think?â
Thereâs a beat.
âI mean, he set me up with some hot babes while he was sitting in the audience to watch. I donât see why he wouldnât like getting bitten, itâs a lot less risque than voyeurism.â
A hum. âHe probably was.â
Dean groans, dropping his head.
âWhat?â
âCâmon manâ look at us? What are we fucking doing?â
Thereâs a long pause.
They donât break it.
Itâs better if they donât, if the lingering regret of what they couldâve done rests heavy in the air. If the absence stings and stays raw and open instead of heals over. All of it is easier like that. Easier for mourning John, easier for mourning Gabriel.