Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 53: O Tannenbaum

[justinedelarge]

Title: Sure Got a Dirty Mouth Chapter 53: O Tannenbaum
Author: justinedelarge
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warning: Wincest, oral sex
Word Count: 4135
Disclaimer: I don't own what I don't own. But I do own what I do own, such as my original characters.
Summary: Sam and Dean decide to go to the common room for Christmas dinner. It becomes clear that Sam really isn't all better yet.

The sanctuary was sealed against any form of supernatural creature, but the rooms were not air-tight. The scent of roasting meat and browned onions wafted down the hallway, crept under the front door and serpentined alluringly in front of the two young men curled up together on the carpeted floor, catching their breath.

Dean’s eyes flashed open, and he sniffed the air like a dog. Sam propped himself up on one elbow and laughed.

“What?”

“You look like you’re about to rise up in the air and float to the food.”

Sam studied Dean’s face. Dean pushed himself to a sitting position and got to his feet. “Hey, let’s see if there’s any food in here, huh?” He went into the kitchen and started opening cabinets, in which there were a few basic canned goods Juliane had been kind enough to stock. “Spaghetti-Os. You used to love those. Cold from the can, right, Sammy?”

Sam came up behind Dean and folded his arms around him, the silver ring on his finger gleaming. “We can go.” His mouth was soft on the back of Dean’s neck.

Dean spun in his arms. “You’re sure?”

Sam shrugged. “Fresh off the plane from Germany, right? You ever hear Dad talk about knowing any hunters from Europe?”

Dean shook his head. “No. He almost made it seem like this whole hunting thing was just an American thing.”

Sam tilted his head. “Yeah. That’s kind of weird, actually.” He brushed the hair out of his eyes, drawing Dean’s attention to his silver ring yet again.

Dean took his hand, rubbed his thumb over the ring. “So… you want to go?”

Sam leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Dean’s. “Yeah.”

They rummaged through their clothing and pulled out the nicest stuff they had. Dean put on a thick hunter-green flannel that made his eyes stand out even more than they already did. Sam chose his blue-and-grey plaid flannel. They brushed their teeth together, standing over the single sink, taking turns spitting the foamy toothpaste into the basin and rinsing their mouths. Dean ran a wide-tooth comb through his hair. Sam padded into the bedroom and grabbed his brush, ran it fast and careless through his hair.

Dean followed. “Hey. You’ll give yourself split ends like that. Sit.”

Sam perched on the edge of the bed. Dean climbed up behind him, settled down on his knees, and took the brush from Sam’s hand. He held a section in his hand and brushed the bottom section, clearing the tangles before moving up towards the scalp. He worked his way around Sam’s head, stroking the brush through his thick brown hair, the tips of the bristles lightly scratching Sam’s scalp.

Sam made a soft sound of pleasure and let his head fall back. The corner of Dean’s mouth went up. He kept brushing Sam’s hair, lifting it up from underneath, smoothing it down flat with his other hand. The bristles skimmed the sensitive patch behind Sam’s ear, eliciting a shiver.

Dean set the brush on the bed and shifted position so he sat on the bed behind Sam, his legs on either side. He ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, scratching his scalp with his fingernails. Sam shivered once more as Dean ran his fingers through his hair starting from the nape of his neck, pushing the locks forward, the hard edges of his nails stimulating the thousands of nerve endings in his scalp.

“That feel good, Sammy?”

Sammy answered with a moan.

Dean scratched and scraped delicately for a while longer, then smoothed his hair back into place, drawing the brush through it once more until it was gleaming and smooth.

Sam turned to Dean. His pupils were huge, like a powerful drug were coursing through his veins. “Now you.”

He brought Dean around, wordlessly directed him to kneel on the floor between his legs, facing away. He scraped his fingernails lightly over Dean’s scalp.

It was Dean’s turn to shiver. He tipped his head forward, letting Sam have access to the sensitive nape of his neck. Sam drew his nails along the skin, shifting upward into his scalp, tickling and scratching.

“Mmm.” Dean curled his hands around Sam’s ankles.

Sam brought his right hand to the crown of Dean’s head, fingertips joined, and slowly opened them, spreading out, trailing his fingernails over the sensitive skin. Dean’s fingers tightened on Sam’s ankles.

“Nice?”

“Yeah.”

Sam stroked and petted, scratched and tickled, until Dean was practically purring. He dug his nails in a little deeper, Dean pushing back into it like a cat. “Shit.”

Dean opened his eyes, and craned to look at Sam. “What?”

Sam had turned his folded hand over, examining his fingernails. “Better take care of this now.” He kissed the top of Dean’s head, hand dropping to Dean’s shoulder, squeezing it. Then he scooted backward, rolling off the bed and heading to the bathroom. The crisp snick of the fingernail clippers could be heard all the way in the bedroom.

Dean’s head jerked up as he put two and two together. Sam was trimming his fingernails so that he wouldn’t hurt him later that night when he worked his fingers inside Dean, opening him up. Getting him ready to take him.

He followed Sam into the bathroom, came up behind him, bumping his hips against him. Sam smiled at him in the mirror. Dean took Sam’s right hand and ran the pad of thumb over the top of his index finger, feeling how short Sam had trimmed the nail, how smooth it was.

Sam’s smile mixed shyness with a blast of pure sexual heat. He moved Dean’s thumb over the top of his middle finger…and then his ring finger too.

Dean bit his lip.

Three fingers. Sam had trimmed the nails short on three fingers.

Sam scrutinized Dean’s face in the mirror and raised an eyebrow in a wordless question.

Dean kissed the back of Sam’s neck. “Use your words, Sam. You know I like that.”

Sam lifted his head up, a flare of something in his eyes that said he was up to the challenge. “Can you take three?”

A faint blush tinged Dean’s cheeks, surprising both of them. “For you I can.”

~

They sat on the bed and tugged on their boots, exchanging glances heavy with promise and sexual tension. Tidy and presentable, Sam rang Juliane to say they were coming. They gave it a few minutes to make sure the lone hunter still keeping to himself got the message to keep the hallway clear, and then they headed over.

Juliane opened the door, and a whuff of warm air issued from the apartment, heavy with the bracing scent of peppery cloves, yeasty aromas of baking bread, and the low bass note of caramelized meat juices. “Come in.”

In the corner of the room was a real Christmas tree, decorated with big teardrop-shaped bulbs in red, green, blue and yellow, with silvery tinsel and ornaments. Sam shot Juliane a look of surprise. “That wasn’t there last night.”

“In my family, my mom and dad did the tree up on Christmas Eve, when all the kids went to bed. So the first time we saw it was Christmas morning.” She smiled a bit sadly. “So that’s what I do.”

Seated on the couches in front of the fire were four blond men, comically large, the hard contours of their muscles evident even beneath their Christmas sweaters. The oldest, hair shot through with grey, had his left arm in a sling. The man next to him, in a blue and white Fair Isle sweater, had extensive bruising on his face. Across from them sat a heavyset man in a bright red sweater nearly the same color as his ruddy face, with a splint on two fingers of his right hand. Next to him was a lanky fellow with a broken nose and great dark circles under his eyes. He rose to his feet at the sight of Sam and Dean. “Fröhliche Weihnachten!” He extended his hand.

Sam shook it. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam, and shook the man’s hand. “Hey. I’m, uh, Gene, and this is Paul.”

“Very pleased to meet you. I’m Oskar.” The lanky fellow nodded at the heavyset man in red. “This is Georg.” Hands were shaken again. The man in the Fair Isle sweater rose. “My name is Volker.” His grip was extremely strong.

The oldest man raised his right hand slowly in greeting. “Please forgive me if I don’t get up. I am Otto.”

Sam and Dean shook his hand, carefully. He seemed the worst for wear of all of them.

Danny approached carrying two mugs. “Here you go.” Dean sniffed the contents appreciatively. “Hot apple cider.”

Oskar clapped his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “But you cannot drink it without a bit of schnapps.” He picked up a bottle emblazoned with a gold double-headed eagle on a black background and poured a generous glug into each of their mugs.

Sam took a sip, and his eyes widened.

“Good, ja?” Oskar thumped Sam’s back. “Make you grow up big and strong.”

Sam and Dean sat in two comfortably stuffed chairs next to each other. Dean drank a mouthful of spiked cider, and blinked rapidly. Juliane, wearing a red and green sweater with a line of prancing reindeer on the front, walked between them all to the mantle and took down the two stockings still hanging over the fire.

Sam and Dean set their cider down on the coffee table, and took the stockings she handed them. “It’s not much, but.. you know.” Oskar and Georg pushed over and made room for her to sit. Danny busied himself in the kitchen.

The first thing they each pulled out, hooked over the top of the stocking, was an M&M candy cane filled with red and green M&Ms. “Awesome,” Dean proclaimed.

Sam reached in and pulled out a plastic squirt gun, a package of Goldfish crackers, a small summer sausage, packages of gum, smoked almonds, several candy canes, a Rubik’s Cube, and finally, a large orange fished out of the toe of the stocking.

Dean’s stocking also held a squirt gun, candy canes, gum, and an orange, along with beef jerky, honey roasted peanuts, two packets of hot apple cider mix, a deck of playing cards and a keychain flashlight.

“Thank you.” Dean’s eyes were wide at the unexpected bounty. “Yes, thanks. This was so nice of you,” Sam added.

Juliane just beamed, arms wrapped around herself. Sam toyed with the squirt gun. “Dude. Holy water!” Dean grinned. “You read my mind.” The Germans seemed amused at the idea.

Sam sat with the contents of his stocking spread out on the coffee table before him, a silly grin on his face, looking at them, then the roaring fire, then the Christmas tree. “The tree…it’s so great.”

Georg leaned forward with a bit of effort. “Das hier ist sehr schön.”

Everyone fell silent, looking at the Christmas tree, delicate silvery threads of tinsel glinting in the firelight, ornaments sparkling, the bronze star on the highest bough. Sam and Dean drank their apple cider, the warmth of the liquid and the heat of the alcohol tingling in their veins.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a male voice, resonant and full, filling the room. “O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum, Wie treu sind deine Blätter.” It came from Otto. He sat up straight, left arm tucked close in the sling, mouth open, the glorious sound issuing from his throat. “Du grünst nicht nur zur Sommerzeit, nein auch im Winter, wenn es schneit. O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum, wie treu sind deine Blätter.”

The other men joined in, voices nowhere near as rich or as well trained, forming a ragtag chorus. Otto’s voice soared above them all, as they sang all three verses, faces animated by the flickering firelight, the air perfumed with the scent of pine needles and wood smoke.

The song came to an end. Everyone not of German ancestry applauded. Everyone of German ancestry looked pleased and a little embarrassed.

Oskar sprang to his feet and approached the Christmas tree, scrutinizing it carefully. “But…but…” he sputtered, “where is your pickle?”

After everyone not of German ancestry stopped roaring with laughing, Dean wiping tears from his eyes, Oskar explained it was a tradition that the Christmas tree had to have a pickle ornament, to assure good fortune for the following year. Upon learning that there was no pickle on the tree, Oskar asked if they had any actual pickles. As it turned out, Danny did have a jar of pickles in the cupboard, and within moments, Oskar had jerry-rigged a pickle ornament with a towel-dried actual pickle and a section of coat hanger.

“Can we give you a hand in the kitchen?” Sam asked Juliane.

She furrowed her brow. “That depends. Can you mash potatoes?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. “Yeah. My uncle made sure I knew how to not screw that one up.” Sam’s mouth tightened, as though he were determined not to be sad.

Sam and Dean mashed the potatoes and stirred them with warm milk and butter, just the way Bobby insisted. (“You mash them. Not beat ‘em with a goddamn spoon until the whole thing seizes up like an engine run dry of oil.”) Dean stood closer to Sam than was strictly necessary. None of the Germans seemed to mind.

The Germans set the table, and everyone helped bring the food to the table: glistening roast beef, a giant tureen of mushroom gravy speckled with black pepper, mashed potatoes that Dean had personally ensured were drowning in butter, a dish of buttered corn kernels, fat dinner rolls, candied yams with a blistered crust of marshmallows, and to Sam’s delight, roasted Brussels sprouts. To drink, there was cola, a nice Napa Cabernet Sauvignon, and beer.

“To our hosts. Prost!” Oskar raised his glass of lager. “Prost!” echoed the others.

Sam raised their glasses to Juliane and Danny.

Juliane’s face was pink. “No, really, thank you. If it weren’t for you…” Her eyes met Danny’s for a moment, then she lowered her gaze, and glanced back at everyone. “All of you… I’d be sitting here all by myself eating a whole bowl of macaroni and cheese. So I’m the one who’s grateful.” She raised her glass of red wine. “To you.”

The Americans made a point of clinking every single glass against every other single glass, even to the point of Danny getting up from his chair so he could clink glasses with Juliane, seated across from him on the far end of the long table. This amused the German hunters to no end. “We just raise our glasses,” Oskar said with a grin.

Then everyone heaped their plates to the brim, and ate like there was no tomorrow. Oskar and Georg regaled them with a tale of how they ferreted out a nest of ghouls, only to be nearly taken out by a lone vampire that had taken up residence near them out of a kind of fondness for them as pets. Sam and Dean mostly listened, aware they could not spill most of their stories without risking someone eventually figuring out who those two boys were. They weren’t so much worried about being yanked out of there by John, but by people figuring out that they were brothers.

They tried to keep their little glances and touches to a minimum, but they weren’t fooling anyone. During dinner, when Sam wiped a stray drip of gravy from the corner of Dean’s mouth for the third time, eyes practically luminescent with adoration, Volker (the quietest of the hunters) smiled at them unexpectedly, baring a mouthful of perfect white teeth, and said, “You two are a very handsome couple.”

Sam and Dean stared at him, mouths seized up on the food they had been chewing. They looked around the table. Everyone was smiling at them. Not a single look of judgment. Their relief was evident on their faces.

“You expected us to be, perhaps, disapproving?” Volker motioned at them in a jokingly dismissive wave. “Please. We are from Berlin.”

As dinner progressed and the alcohol flowed freely, the German hunters became louder and more animated. Sam had stuck to soda mostly, as had Dean, so as to be in good form later. Dean forked up another mouthful of roast beef drenched in gravy, watching Sam.

Sam was on his second plate, but had slowed down significantly. He dragged a caramelized Brussels sprout through the gravy, brow furrowed.

The hunters had slipped into speaking mostly German. The laughter rang against the walls, and their voices seemed harsh. Angry.

The main meal came to an end. Dinner plates were cleared, food swept from the table, and Danny brought out the pecan pie Sam and Dean had brought from Marie Callendar’s. Soon everyone had a slice before them. Dean dug in, eating a third of his slice in the first bite.

Sam ate a small morsel of pie. Oskar thumped the table with both hands, roaring with laughter at something Otto had said. Sam flinched violently, almost knocking over his glass. Dean put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, wordlessly checking in with him. Sam took a deep breath and nodded at Dean to say he was fine, and ate another forkful of pie.

Oskar, Volker and Georg were oblivious to Sam’s reaction, and began thumping on the table in unison, all staring at Otto. Banging their fists. Over. And over. The sound of flesh meeting a hard, unyielding object. Over and over.

Sam flinched again, blowing a puff of air out through his nostrils.

The pounding only increased in volume. Utensils rattled against the ceramic plates. Juliane started to rise from her seat.

But it was too late. Sam pushed away from the table. His face was contorted, sweating profusely. Dean leaned close, whispered in his ear, “Sam?”

Sam’s hands trembled. “I can’t… I can’t…” He stood up, backed away from the table, turned away and sank down into a crouch, shaking violently.

The table fell quiet. Dean sank to the ground with him. “I got you. I’m here.” Sam curled in on himself harder, silent sobs racking his body, starting to hyperventilate. His right hand clutched his chest.

Juliane shoved her chair back and went to the kitchen, grabbing a small bottle from a cabinet and a pen from the counter.

Sam started gasping for breath. Dean leaned over him, taking both his hands in his. Juliane fell to her knees next to him. “Here.” She cracked open the bottle. The label read Peppermint Extract. “Breathe in. Paul! Breathe in.” She held the small bottle under his nose. Without doing it consciously, he took a breath. His eyes flashed open.

“There you go.” She smiled at him. “Paul. Are you having a flashback, or just a panic attack?”

Sam shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut again. She brought the vial to his nose, and made him breathe in. He shook his head, the strong scent distracting him. “Flashback or panic attack?”

He gripped Dean’s hands hard. “Flashback.”

“Visual?”

“What?” Sam was having trouble concentrating.

“Are you seeing it happen? Or are you feeling it, or hearing it?”

“Feeling… feeling it. Hearing it.” Dean’s face darkened. Sam fought for control. “I see…this. You.”

“Ok. Good. Now look at me.” She turned his head to face her. “Let the flashback happen. But look at me.” She brought the pen up in front of his face. “Watch the pen. Just watch it. Feel what you’re feeling. But watch this pen.”

She waved the pen in front of his face in a specific pattern , flicking it from side to side. Sam’s eyes followed the bilateral movement.

Remarkably, astonishingly, after about 30 seconds, Sam’s breathing changed from ragged gasps to a smoother, steadier rhythm. After several minutes, he was noticeably calmer. Finally, he blinked, and focused on Juliane.

She pushed her hair out of her face. “Better?”

Sam nodded, then laughed, terror shifting to the euphoria of relief.

Dean practically carried Sam to the couch, paying attention to nothing else but him. He settled him down and sat next to him, pulling him into Dean’s arms.

Sam just went with it, lax and boneless, face sheened with sweat, curling up on the couch and burying his face in Dean’s chest, breathing in tandem with him.

Otto moved slowly to the couch opposite Sam, and sat down with a groan of pain. He watched Sam for a long time, silent and still. Then he spoke. “It happens to me too.”

Sam opened his eyes, gazing at the old man with bloodshot blue eyes, broken arm in the sling, ruddiness from drink in his cheeks.

“It happens to all of us. Who hunt these things. Who are hurt by them.” He smiled at Sam, a sad, knowing smile. “For us, this is normal.”

Dean held Sam in front of the dwindling fire until he stopped shaking. Danny brought Sam a double shot of brandy. Sam swallowed it neat, with a stiff wrist, in a practiced motion that made Dean smile with barely concealed pride.

Finally, Sam sat up and pushed his hair off his forehead.

“You back with us?” Dean almost said Sammy, but caught himself just in time.

“Yeah.” Sam licked his dry lips.

Juliane brought Sam a mug of herbal tea. “It tastes like cat butt. Drink it anyway.”

Sam took a sip and wrinkled his nose.

“I warned you.” She winked at Sam.

Sam drank his tea dutifully, but quickly. The other three German hunters helped Danny wrap up leftovers, quiet and respectful of Sam, and helped him wash the dishes. Dean refused to let go of Sam.

“Maybe you two want to go back to your place? Get some privacy?”

Sam blew out a long breath, almost shuddering with relief.

“I thought so.” Juliane placed her hand on top of Sam’s. Her eyes went to the new ring on Sam’s hand, and over to Dean’s, where he wore the matching ring. She said nothing, but her eyes twinkled.

Dean helped Sam stand. Not that Sam was still too weak to take his feet without help. But because Dean needed to.

“What I did there? We can do that on purpose. Trigger your memories, and break the associations.” She fixed her attention on Dean, thrusting the bottle of peppermint extract into his hands. “If he has waking flashbacks or panic attacks, distract him. Like with this. With unusual sounds or scents or flavors. Whatever. Something unexpected. It makes the brain jump the track.”

Dean nodded, understanding flooding his mind.

“When you’re up to it, come see me. And we’ll do this again.” Sam looked stricken. “Look. You’re going to have the panic attacks anyway. This way, you can get free of them. Fast.”

Danny nodded. “She’s right. It works.”

Dean cocked his head. “It does?”

“Sure did for me.”

Sam stood and without warning, pulled Juliane into a bear hug. Danny’s face froze, unable to hide the jealousy on his face.

And Sam saw it.

He pulled away, glancing at Dean, and then back at Juliane. Her face lit up with a huge grin. “You… you hug real nice.”

Sam stepped back. “Yeah? You should keep practicing that. Like…start hugging people.” His eyes flickered to Danny. He dropped his eyes and turned away.

Juliane raised her eyebrows. “Maybe I will.”

Sam and Dean said goodbye, thanking Danny for all he’d done. Sam put his hand on his shoulder, not saying anything with words, but in the way he looked at Danny, and at Juliane, Danny took his meaning. “It’s fine. I… it’s fine.”

Sam leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Then he took Dean’s hand and led him towards the door. They said farewell to the German hunters, took their stockings filled with loot, and returned to their apartment.

Inside, Dean asked, “What did you say to him?”

Sam said, “I told him, ‘She’s like a shelter animal. She wants human contact. But she’s scared. Start small.’”

Dean shook his head. “You’re just…awesome.”

Sam stepped closer. “Did you mean it? What you said?”

A hint of color painted Dean’s cheekbones.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“You’re sure you’re up for it?”

Sam ran his hands down Dean’s back, lingering on the gentle curve of his ass. “I… I need it.” He bit his lower lip. “Need you.”

Dean kissed Sam, just a brush of his mouth. “I need to get ready. Don’t fall asleep, ok?” His tone was gentle, teasing.

“Not a chance in hell.”

Sam sat on the couch, toying with his water pistol, while Dean disappeared into the bathroom to prepare himself for Sam.

Comments

[masja-17.livejournal.com]

Oh, poor Sam. Be sure to get help from Juliane.
This was so good! Now I want to have my head massaged! And of course the Germans won't mind!

<3

[justinedelarge.livejournal.com]

I'm trying to keep a somewhat realistic sense of the real-life perils of being LGBTQ in this story. There are still a lot of people who have a problem with it. At the same time, I want to show a slightly better world in my writing that perhaps exists in real life. So I felt I needed to show the reactions of these new people to the love that shines off Sam and Dean even when they think they're trying to hide it.

Anyway, yes, the Germans won't mind. :)

[masja-17.livejournal.com]

Love how you try to make your world better than ours. but I have gay and lesbian coworkers so I don't have a problem with it. Besides, I read M/M stories!

[deansdirtybb.livejournal.com]

I love Juliane! I have so much respect and admiration for your ability to build these amazing characters. (I am sure you will be able to build the most amazing cast for your original novel - not a doubt in my mind.) It made me all warm and squishy how Dean just had to take care of Sammy no matter who's watching or what they think. Aannnd...I so cannot wait for the next chapter, I'm all atingle with porny anticipation :)

[justinedelarge.livejournal.com]

I tried so hard yesterday to write through the part where Dean bottoms for Sammy again, but over 4,000 words in a day is a lot, and it was pretty late by the time I got that far. With luck, I'll have it done by tonight!

[rianadrarrylove.livejournal.com]

I love how integral Danny and Juliane have become- I'm as interested in their story (and even the Germans, if we see any details of them) as I am with John, Bobby, Reggie, and SamandDean's story lines!

Really well done. Funny, scary, sad, and a little sexy.

I'm thoroughly enjoying how realistic your portrayal of PTSD is- it's raw and not televised to make it go by quicker or make it 'prettier'. I appreciate the amount of effort you've put into that, and the other aspects of the story that demanded realistic telling without being triggering.

Also, as a side note: I love how you've threaded the sex into this story without making it out of place or vulgar- it's become a grounding point for Sam and a necessity for Dean and it's really beautiful to see it evolve.

[justinedelarge.livejournal.com]

Thank you! In my Wincest, the deep connection between the two is what drives them exploring beyond just "regular" sex (in my kinkier stories). It's exactly that "I'd let the gates of Hell stay open for you, Sammy" or "I'd literally jump into the pits of Hell for you, Dean" that's pure 100% canon which I use in their sexual interactions to fuel all sorts of kinky sex. But that sex becomes sacred, no matter how full of pink panties or sex toys it might get.

And here, yes... it's a grounding point for Sam and a necessity for Dean. I love how you phrased that. Thank you.

[dont-hate-me01.livejournal.com]

Juliane to the rescue again!! And she's given some new tips for Dean to help Sam in future. Just have to love her! Glad that Sam talked to Danny as well.

[imaginecoolname.livejournal.com]

First off: you've definitely made me hungry again, all that Christmas food sounds so good! :)

I loved the fact that Sam and Dean's love is just so visible even when they're actively trying to hide it, and I'm glad you made the strangers so accepting of their being a couple. Also, I'm curious: Any particular reason you made the other hunters German?

I really liked the dinner bit, Juliane coming to the rescue once more. Her and Danny keep growing on me and I find myself rooting for them to get together as well. :) The realistic portrayal of Sam's PTSD is greatly appreciated as well, also with Dean being so focussed on only Sam and what he needs. Loved it.

I also loved the head massages and how you always manage to convey their closeness and intimacy so well, and how important all those aspects are for them, grounding them and connecting them, no matter if it's actual sex or just other ways of being physically and emotionally close.

Wonderful new chapter, thank you!

[justinedelarge.livejournal.com]

I made them German because the hunters needed to be from another country, freshly arrived in the US, so that Sam and Dean would feel secure that they did not know who the boys are, and they could have a Christmas dinner with other people. I picked German because I am half-German, and know a tiny bit of the language, and my sister used to sing O Tannenbaum in German, acapella, every year. She has a beautiful voice, and it was one of the most memorable things for me about Christmas. So I thought I could inject this real-life stuff into the story and give it some nice, believable detail.

And because a guy with a German accent saying "But...where is your pickle?" is just hysterically funny to me.

[imaginecoolname.livejournal.com]

Ah, thanks for sharing that. I thought it might be something to do with German ancestry on your part, since you rendered the language so flawlessly. And the bit about Berlin made me smile, though I'm proud to say that my home city was actually the first German federal state to make registering gay civil partnerships possible. ;)

I have, however, never heard of the Christmas pickle tradition, though I do agree with you on the accent making that sentence somewhat hilarious. :) Thanks for the taste of home in your wonderful fic, heh! :D

[sammichgirl]

I admire how Juliane goes the extra mile to make everyone feel that this isn't just a sanctuary, but a home, if they wish it to be while there - another portrayal of family in a positive light. Her connection with Sam is quite intriguing, and I love that she is able to really help him in a way that Dean can't. I think it's very important for Sam to have good connotations in his recovery with people he builds trust with on his own terms and that love him, no questions asked.

[justinedelarge.livejournal.com]

I really appreciate you pointing this out. I really love getting comments chapter by chapter like this. What a great way to write a book.

[kinkajou.livejournal.com]

I love this chapter! I liked the German guys a lot :) I've never heard of the pickle thing, we get lots of holiday traditions from them but apparently skipped this one :D And I loved how the boys thought they were subtle, but still everyone saw that they are a couple :) <3 ((I am such a pervert for wanting people to find out the brother part too, and see what they would think about that...)) Poor Sam, having flashbacks... but Julianne helps them so much with those! And I wonder when Reggie will find them :)