Miracles and Saints 'Verse by Ellipsis (NC-17)

[mf_luder_xf]

Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean, Dean/Michael, Sam/Dean/Michael, Dean/OFC, others
Length: BIG
Author on LJ: ellipsisblack
Author Website: conquest and her original fiction site Wilful&Sneaky

This fic features Michael from Something Wicked as he joins the hunting world thanks to the Winchester's influence, and sets out on a journey to find Dean who is on his own search for his missing brother.

Apparently, I decided this was threesome month, but this whole 'verse has always been one of my favorites from the day I first started reading. I absolutely love stories that expand the Supernatural 'verse beyond just the Wincesters (hence my love for Claire Novak and Ben) and into the future. But in addition to an excellent set up, Elle has quite the way with words. She weaves an intriguing story as well as revealing tidbits about the characters and their relationships in a truly lovely manner that really sets the mood of the piece. I absolutely love Michael in this whole series. She manages to develop a character we knew very little about and make him fully fleshed out and believable at an older age, as well as having his relationship with Dean be organic.

Her prose is wonderful, the sex burning hot, and the characterizations excellent. A fantastic read.


A couple of hours later, Michael slunk back into the bar. After he left, he'd walked all the way back to his hotel, only to realise he'd left his wallet, with the room key tucked into it, on the table at the bar. He'd been too ashamed to go back while he was sure Dean would be there, so he waited long enough that there was a reasonable chance Dean would have left, walking around the streets, staring up at the sky and trying to ignore the fact that he kept getting propositioned by strange men and he wasn't sure whether they were expecting to pay or be paid by him.

A quick scan of the room suggested that he was right and Dean had gone. He hurried over to his table, heart crawling into his stomach when he realised his wallet wasn't there.

God, he was such a dickhead.

He went up to the bar and asked the girl Dean had been flirting with earlier if she'd seen anyone pick up a wallet.

"You Mikey?" she asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Oh... your friend Miles found your wallet. He said he'd look after it for you."

Michael winced. Dean was holding his wallet hostage. That pretty much meant he had to bite the bullet and go knock on his door.

"Yeah, he said to remind you that he's in room 302 at the Royal."

Michael blinked. "Oh, right, of course. Thanks."

He went straight across to the hotel before he could change his mind. He took the stairs up to level three, fastidiously avoiding touching the filthy hand-rail. On the third level, he leant against the door to the stairwell, staring across at the greyish door behind which lay room 302.

Michael tried to make himself breathe deeply and focus, but it was difficult when he was winded from bounding up the stairs, and still feeling the liquid courage. And, of course, also when he knew Dean was behind that door, waiting for him to reclaim his wallet.

He launched himself at the door and knocked firmly twice. He had expected that Dean would answer immediately, but he was wrong. It took another round of slightly louder knocking before the door opened and Dean glared out at him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Um... the barkeeper," Michael said, gesturing behind him for no good reason. "My wallet."

"Oh yeah. Come in." Dean ran his hand through his hair and stepped back.

Michael eyed Dean warily. "I might wait here, if that's okay," he said. The thought of being shut in a hotel room with a drunk and grumpy Winchester was a little terrifying.

Dean made an annoyed noise, grabbed Michael by the front of his wifebeater, and dragged him into the room. A moment later, an object came flying at his chest, and he put out his hands instinctively to catch it. It was his wallet.

"Good reflexes," Dean said, flopping onto the double bed and squinting around for a longneck that he eventually found on the bedside table.

Michael stepped away from the door and looked around, tucking the wallet into his back pocket. The room was typical hotel, with flowered wallpaper, a violently green carpet, and a mini bar. The bed took up most of the floor space.

"What did you want again?" asked Dean, dropping the empty bottle onto the carpet. "Oh, by the way, there's more beer in the fridge. You can get yourself one. Get me one too." His gaze was sharp, and Michael almost wondered if he was being played. Maybe Dean was doing the whole drunk amnesia routine just to annoy him. He couldn't honestly have forgotten that Michael was offering to help him find Sam, could he?

"Um, thanks." He crossed the room, feeling Dean watching him. He was suddenly acutely aware of how tight the black wifebeater was over his chest.

"I can help you find your brother," he said, handing Dean a beer. Their fingers brushed on the neck of the bottle, and Michael looked up to find Dean leering at him. "He disappeared in Ohio, right, and so I did some research and—"

"Illinois."

"What?"

"Sam disappeared in Illinois."

Michael deflated like a balloon. "Oh. But still, I want to help."

"Oh, and why is that?" Dean looked up, eyes tired and bitter.

"I just—I owe you one."

"Why?"

Michael wondered why he was so desperate not to tell Dean who he was. Probably because he was scared Dean just wouldn't even remember. To Michael, meeting the Winchesters had been a turning point, the moment his eyes were opened, he realised what he wanted to do with his life, and he realised what was out there that he had to protect his mom and Asher from. But to Dean, he'd probably been just another kid in another small town. A person in peril, who happened to be convenient to give them a bit of a hand.

"I just do, okay? You shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth." Oh Christ, he said that, then he realised that Dean was, in fact, looking at his mouth. A tingle went up his spine.

"And what are you willing to do ?"

"...What?"

"Well, right now, I'm piss drunk, and horny as hell. So all the help I want is a good hard fuck and then to sleep for three days." Dean stood up from the bed and took two steps towards Michael.

Michael's heart hopped then skidded to a stop in his chest. "Uh. Right," he said, his voice going high.

He said, low and slow, "Can you help me with that, Mikey?"

Dean took his hand and pulled him down onto the bed. And that, right there, was almost more than Michael had done with a guy.

When you spent the entirety of your high school years in a one school town building a closet kingdom and your summers learning to locate and shoot for the heart in eighty different non-humans, you couldn't really afford to slip up. He'd kissed girls, of course, but never really got over the playground yick factor, and at a party the weekend school ended, he'd kissed another guy on a dare and immediately had to re-assert his masculinity by decking some asshole who made a joke about it.

So to have Dean—sexy Dean, Dean who was drunk, a lot older and clearly a player; Dean, who, if Michael hadn't had a crush on earlier, he was fast on the way to developing one—pulling him down onto the bed, was exhilarating and terrifying, and Michael almost ran right then, out of the hotel, and all the way back to Fitchburg.

But he didn't, because Dean's hand was wrapped around his wrist, tugging him down, and Michael could no more have refused that pull than he could have built a rocketship powered by the light that apparently shone out of Sam Winchester's ass.


The entire master list of the Miracles and Saints 'verse

*note: since the original posting, some of the stories are friends only, but I assure you, Elle is still around, so just friend conquest to read!