why_me_why_not (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
why_me_why_not) wrote2007-04-20 05:56 pm
why_me_why_not) wrote2007-04-20 05:56 pm
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Title: Doofus
Author: Tabby
Fandom/Pairing: SPN, Dean/Sam
Rating/Word Count: Adult, 1400 words
Betas:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wendy went above and beyond when it comes to betaing, but I should be used to that because she is the epitome of awesome. Much love & beta thanks also goes to ltlredhairdgirl and anasuede.
Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously, b/c if I owned the Winchesters I wouldn't have time to play on the internet.
Summary: Sometimes Dean has to remind Sam there's no reason to be jealous.
A/N: Written forwendy in response to this post. HOWEVER. Myself and my betas all fail at titles. Obviously. This was saved as "doofus" in my fic files and apparently that's how it will forever been known. Concrit always welcomed.
Dean takes a swig of his beer and glances over the girl's shoulder. Sam's been sitting at the end of the bar, playing video poker or that game that involves finding differences between two naked pictures, but he's up now, dropping some coins in the jukebox. When the song starts, he gives Dean a pointed look, so Dean tries to catch the lyrics over the high-pitched giggle of Susie or Cindy or whatever her name is.
I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive
Carved my name into his leather seats
Took a Louisville slugger to both headlights
Slashed a hole in all four tires
Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats
Dean shakes his head. Sam is such a fucking girl sometimes. Dean kinda hates when he gets like this, but working Sam out of his bad mood usually proves to be interesting. Plus, he kinda likes knowing that it's so easy to make Sam jealous. Dean loves Sam, he does, but he loves the ladies too. And they love him, naturally, so yeah, he flirts. And he does have an actual purpose for schmoozing up this particular girl, and it's directly related to the job they're on, so he wishes Sam wouldn't be so irritated by it.
Dean excuses himself and tilts his head at Sam as he passes. He's glad the restroom's unoccupied, and when Sam walks in behind him, Dean pushes him hard against the door and kisses him sloppily, biting his lip as he pulls away and licks a line over Sam's jaw and down to the curve of his neck. He bites down, makes sure to leave a mark just at the collar of Sam's shirt.
"Sam, you fucking doofus."
Sam, still a little glassy-eyed from the kiss, laughs, and Dean knows it's because "doofus" is a middle school word, but dammit!
"Why do you do this shit? That girl out there is the key to this job, so quit getting all pissy about me playing nice. Don't you know by now that no matter who I flirt with, it's you that I fall asleep beside every night?" He runs his thumb lightly over the bruise he's made on Sam's skin. "And if you'd quit shooting daggers at me with your eyes, this is where I'll pick this up again later." He grabs a handful of Sam's t-shirt and pulls him into another rough kiss before pushing him a little to the side and walking back out the door.
Dean goes back over to where SusieorCindy is sitting and, as he slides back into his seat, he senses Sam behind him, pulling up a chair of his own right beside Dean. Dean steers the conversation back to the story that the girl had been telling him in between their flirting, and he can practically envision Sam taking notes in his head.
Sam's watching the girl intently, nodding and making sympathetic noises at all the right times, but under the table he slides his hand over to rest on Dean's thigh, gentle but insistent pressure that reminds Dean that Sam's feeling jealous.
When she finishes her recount of the story for the second time that night, Dean tells the girl that he thinks they have enough information for now and that they should plan on meeting tomorrow.
"I have a spare room at my place; you're welcome to come home with me and then we can get an earlier start tomorrow." Her voice is oozing with invitation, and Sam tightens his grip on Dean's thigh.
Dean presses his leg against Sam's under the table in response to the touch as he says, "Thanks anyway, sweetheart, but I think Sammy here needs his medication and it's back at the motel. We'll meet up with you at the school at two, right?"
She pouts but nods in affirmation of their plans and Dean flashes her that smile that makes the girls melt, which is probably a bad idea because she goes all doe-eyed and Sam sees it and goes all fiery-eyed. Dean pushes away from the table and stumbles a bit, on purpose, so he has to make a grab for Sam to steady himself.
"C'mon, Sammy boy, let's go."
The look Sam gives him promises he's going to get bitched out, and it possibly won't wait until they get back to the motel, even though Dean's told Sam that the two of them fighting in the Impala upsets her. And yeah, he probably deserves it, both for the medication remark and the Sammy boy, but he doesn't like it, so he has to figure a way out of it.
He follows Sam out of the bar and into the cool air of the night. The Impala is parked in the back corner of the parking lot -- taking up two spaces to be sure nobody accidentally scratches her -- and Dean thinks that the lack of lighting there will work to his benefit.
He unlocks the doors and they slide into the car, and though he puts the key in the ignition, he doesn't turn her over.
"Want me to drive?" Sam asks after a moment.
"No, Miss Daisy, I don't want you to drive." Dean shifts so he's facing Sam. He slides one hand across the back of the seat to tangle in Sam's hair, forcing Sam to look at him as his other hand slips over the denim at Sam's thigh to cup him through his jeans. "I want you to stop this. I want you to get it through that stubborn head of yours that I'm right where I want to be."
"Dean..."
"Quiet, Sam."
Dean leans closer and runs his tongue over the mark he made earlier on Sam’s neck as he pops the button on Sam's jeans, slides down the zipper, murmurs approvingly when Sam wiggles in the seat to give Dean easier access to slide his cock free. Dean coaxes Sam into a sloppy kiss as he wraps his hand around Sam's cock. He knows just how to twist his hand, just the right amount of pressure to apply, just how fast Sam likes it. He pulls back from the kiss, turns Sam's head so he can nip at his jaw before moving on to run his tongue along the shell of his ear.
"Y'know, I've never fucked anyone else in this car. Only you." Dean knows that part of the reason Sam whimpers is because he likes the sound of his voice when he whispers, but he's not so far gone that he doesn't recognize the significance of the words. "You're the only one I've had spread out on the hood of her, the only one I've had blow me here in the front seat."
Sam's pushing up into Dean's touch, and even in the dark Dean has the perfect image in his mind of just what he looks like. Dean's not usually one for putting things into words, but sometimes Sam needs to hear them.
"And my car? She sure is pretty, but if there is anything prettier, it's you. Head thrown back against the seat, eyes closed, biting your lip, breathing hard. Because of me."
The headlights from a passing car throw a flash of illumination through the car and show Dean the picture in his mind is dead on.
"Mine." Dean scrapes his teeth over Sam's neck, presses a kiss over the spot. "C'mon, Sammy." Dean whispers repetitions of the words against Sam's skin, punctuating them with nips and licks, until he hears Sam whisper his own name in return, and then Sam's coming, warm and sticky, over his hand.
Dean kisses his way back to Sam's lips and kisses him hard, feels Sam's heavy breaths turn to laughter against his own mouth as Dean wipes his hand on Sam's jeans before pulling away. Sam's shaking his head as he adjusts his clothing, and Dean hopes he realizes that this is far from over , but for now Sam's no longer shooting death glares at him, so that's enough.
Dean's pretty sure he's gotten his point across -- Sammy's a smart boy, after all -- so he doesn't feel the need to ask Sam if he realizes that Dean will always be his. He does, however, say, "And you do realize, that if you ever do anything to my car, I will kill you, right?"
Author: Tabby
Fandom/Pairing: SPN, Dean/Sam
Rating/Word Count: Adult, 1400 words
Betas:
wendy went above and beyond when it comes to betaing, but I should be used to that because she is the epitome of awesome. Much love & beta thanks also goes to ltlredhairdgirl and anasuede. Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously, b/c if I owned the Winchesters I wouldn't have time to play on the internet.
Summary: Sometimes Dean has to remind Sam there's no reason to be jealous.
A/N: Written for
wendy in response to this post. HOWEVER. Myself and my betas all fail at titles. Obviously. This was saved as "doofus" in my fic files and apparently that's how it will forever been known. Concrit always welcomed. Dean takes a swig of his beer and glances over the girl's shoulder. Sam's been sitting at the end of the bar, playing video poker or that game that involves finding differences between two naked pictures, but he's up now, dropping some coins in the jukebox. When the song starts, he gives Dean a pointed look, so Dean tries to catch the lyrics over the high-pitched giggle of Susie or Cindy or whatever her name is.
I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive
Carved my name into his leather seats
Took a Louisville slugger to both headlights
Slashed a hole in all four tires
Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats
Dean shakes his head. Sam is such a fucking girl sometimes. Dean kinda hates when he gets like this, but working Sam out of his bad mood usually proves to be interesting. Plus, he kinda likes knowing that it's so easy to make Sam jealous. Dean loves Sam, he does, but he loves the ladies too. And they love him, naturally, so yeah, he flirts. And he does have an actual purpose for schmoozing up this particular girl, and it's directly related to the job they're on, so he wishes Sam wouldn't be so irritated by it.
Dean excuses himself and tilts his head at Sam as he passes. He's glad the restroom's unoccupied, and when Sam walks in behind him, Dean pushes him hard against the door and kisses him sloppily, biting his lip as he pulls away and licks a line over Sam's jaw and down to the curve of his neck. He bites down, makes sure to leave a mark just at the collar of Sam's shirt.
"Sam, you fucking doofus."
Sam, still a little glassy-eyed from the kiss, laughs, and Dean knows it's because "doofus" is a middle school word, but dammit!
"Why do you do this shit? That girl out there is the key to this job, so quit getting all pissy about me playing nice. Don't you know by now that no matter who I flirt with, it's you that I fall asleep beside every night?" He runs his thumb lightly over the bruise he's made on Sam's skin. "And if you'd quit shooting daggers at me with your eyes, this is where I'll pick this up again later." He grabs a handful of Sam's t-shirt and pulls him into another rough kiss before pushing him a little to the side and walking back out the door.
Dean goes back over to where SusieorCindy is sitting and, as he slides back into his seat, he senses Sam behind him, pulling up a chair of his own right beside Dean. Dean steers the conversation back to the story that the girl had been telling him in between their flirting, and he can practically envision Sam taking notes in his head.
Sam's watching the girl intently, nodding and making sympathetic noises at all the right times, but under the table he slides his hand over to rest on Dean's thigh, gentle but insistent pressure that reminds Dean that Sam's feeling jealous.
When she finishes her recount of the story for the second time that night, Dean tells the girl that he thinks they have enough information for now and that they should plan on meeting tomorrow.
"I have a spare room at my place; you're welcome to come home with me and then we can get an earlier start tomorrow." Her voice is oozing with invitation, and Sam tightens his grip on Dean's thigh.
Dean presses his leg against Sam's under the table in response to the touch as he says, "Thanks anyway, sweetheart, but I think Sammy here needs his medication and it's back at the motel. We'll meet up with you at the school at two, right?"
She pouts but nods in affirmation of their plans and Dean flashes her that smile that makes the girls melt, which is probably a bad idea because she goes all doe-eyed and Sam sees it and goes all fiery-eyed. Dean pushes away from the table and stumbles a bit, on purpose, so he has to make a grab for Sam to steady himself.
"C'mon, Sammy boy, let's go."
The look Sam gives him promises he's going to get bitched out, and it possibly won't wait until they get back to the motel, even though Dean's told Sam that the two of them fighting in the Impala upsets her. And yeah, he probably deserves it, both for the medication remark and the Sammy boy, but he doesn't like it, so he has to figure a way out of it.
He follows Sam out of the bar and into the cool air of the night. The Impala is parked in the back corner of the parking lot -- taking up two spaces to be sure nobody accidentally scratches her -- and Dean thinks that the lack of lighting there will work to his benefit.
He unlocks the doors and they slide into the car, and though he puts the key in the ignition, he doesn't turn her over.
"Want me to drive?" Sam asks after a moment.
"No, Miss Daisy, I don't want you to drive." Dean shifts so he's facing Sam. He slides one hand across the back of the seat to tangle in Sam's hair, forcing Sam to look at him as his other hand slips over the denim at Sam's thigh to cup him through his jeans. "I want you to stop this. I want you to get it through that stubborn head of yours that I'm right where I want to be."
"Dean..."
"Quiet, Sam."
Dean leans closer and runs his tongue over the mark he made earlier on Sam’s neck as he pops the button on Sam's jeans, slides down the zipper, murmurs approvingly when Sam wiggles in the seat to give Dean easier access to slide his cock free. Dean coaxes Sam into a sloppy kiss as he wraps his hand around Sam's cock. He knows just how to twist his hand, just the right amount of pressure to apply, just how fast Sam likes it. He pulls back from the kiss, turns Sam's head so he can nip at his jaw before moving on to run his tongue along the shell of his ear.
"Y'know, I've never fucked anyone else in this car. Only you." Dean knows that part of the reason Sam whimpers is because he likes the sound of his voice when he whispers, but he's not so far gone that he doesn't recognize the significance of the words. "You're the only one I've had spread out on the hood of her, the only one I've had blow me here in the front seat."
Sam's pushing up into Dean's touch, and even in the dark Dean has the perfect image in his mind of just what he looks like. Dean's not usually one for putting things into words, but sometimes Sam needs to hear them.
"And my car? She sure is pretty, but if there is anything prettier, it's you. Head thrown back against the seat, eyes closed, biting your lip, breathing hard. Because of me."
The headlights from a passing car throw a flash of illumination through the car and show Dean the picture in his mind is dead on.
"Mine." Dean scrapes his teeth over Sam's neck, presses a kiss over the spot. "C'mon, Sammy." Dean whispers repetitions of the words against Sam's skin, punctuating them with nips and licks, until he hears Sam whisper his own name in return, and then Sam's coming, warm and sticky, over his hand.
Dean kisses his way back to Sam's lips and kisses him hard, feels Sam's heavy breaths turn to laughter against his own mouth as Dean wipes his hand on Sam's jeans before pulling away. Sam's shaking his head as he adjusts his clothing, and Dean hopes he realizes that this is far from over , but for now Sam's no longer shooting death glares at him, so that's enough.
Dean's pretty sure he's gotten his point across -- Sammy's a smart boy, after all -- so he doesn't feel the need to ask Sam if he realizes that Dean will always be his. He does, however, say, "And you do realize, that if you ever do anything to my car, I will kill you, right?"