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Sep. 11th, 2008 02:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
why_me_why_notfic dump post # 2
Taking a Break
SPN / Dean/Sam / Adult / 721 words
started as a fic for Dean’s birthday a year and a half ago…
"Wanna go grab a beer or something?" Sam is wearing only a loose pair of sweats, sitting crosslegged on the king-size bed with his laptop open in front of him, pretending he has actually been doing something other than restlessly waiting for Dean to finish his shower.
Dean shakes his head and comes over to stretch out on the bed beside Sam, a white, fluffy towel wrapped around his waist and stray droplets of water lingering on his skin. "Do you know how much I've missed showers with real hot water and water pressure? And are you gonna tell me how you managed to get us the room?"
The first question is rhetorical and the second one isn't, but Sam doesn't answer either one. He doesn't want to explain about the credit card he pulled from the back of his wallet to pay for the room. It's not the one that he usually uses, and it almost feels wrong to do so this time, but they need this break. Dean needs a break, even though he'd never admit it.
Their last job ended badly. They were taking care of a poltergeist in Montana. Dean sent the Jackson family -- a father and his two sons -- out of the house for the evening, suggesting they go to the ice cream shop just outside of town, and would they mind bringing back a dish of mint chocolate chip for him? The poltergeist problem was taken care of without a hitch, but it didn't matter. An elderly lady had lost control of her car and plowed head first into the Jackson's truck, killing all three of them.
And Dean used some twisted form of logic to come to the conclusion that he was partially to blame, since he had sent them out. It wasn't his fault by any stretch of the imagination, and Sam was sure the reasonable part of Dean realized that, but if anyone could understand how irrational guilt is, it's Sam.
So yeah, Dean needs a break. Besides, it's his birthday. If Sam had his way, they'd have made their way to a big city, checked into a posh hotel for a few days, maybe checked out the local music scene. Sam was even willing to go with Dean's taste in music, which he secretly likes but would never admit to. Instead, they're stuck here in Bumfuck, Wyoming, with a snowstorm brewing and closing the roads.
And Dean's being... well, he's being moody and Sam-like, and Sam really doesn't like it.
Sam clears his throat and glances over at Dean. "You hungry? I can go pick something up," he offers.
"Nah, I'm fine, but go ahead if you want. I'm gonna take a nap." Dean rolls over onto his stomach, bunching a pillow up underneath his head.
Sam stifles a sigh, closes the laptop, and leans across Dean to set it on the bedside table before shifting around so that he's straddling the upper part of Dean's legs. He's not resting his full weight on Dean, but as he leans forward, bracing his hands on the bed on either side of Dean's head and placing a light kiss on his shoulder, he can feel the heat and the dampness coming off of Dean's skin.
"Get off me, Sam." Dean's voice sounds flat and weary to Sam's ears, and he hates it.
"No," Sam whispers, simple and succinct and final, before pressing another kiss to Dean's skin.
Sam uses the tip of his tongue to connect the soft kisses he's leaving as he works his way over Dean's shoulder blade and down his back. Dean doesn't say anything else and he's perfectly still; Sam'd think he actually was going to sleep, but in the silent room Dean's shallow breaths are clearly audible and Sam knows he has his brother's full attention.
When he reaches the little dip just above Dean's ass, he shifts both of their bodies so that he's laying between Dean's legs and pulls the towel away. In a moment of evil playfulness, he bites the fleshy part of one cheek, probably harder than he intends to because Dean says "Ouch, Jesus, Sam!" and glares at him reproachfully over his shoulder. Sam just grins up at him and runs his tongue over the red spot his teeth have made.
Taking a Break
SPN / Dean/Sam / Adult / 721 words
started as a fic for Dean’s birthday a year and a half ago…
"Wanna go grab a beer or something?" Sam is wearing only a loose pair of sweats, sitting crosslegged on the king-size bed with his laptop open in front of him, pretending he has actually been doing something other than restlessly waiting for Dean to finish his shower.
Dean shakes his head and comes over to stretch out on the bed beside Sam, a white, fluffy towel wrapped around his waist and stray droplets of water lingering on his skin. "Do you know how much I've missed showers with real hot water and water pressure? And are you gonna tell me how you managed to get us the room?"
The first question is rhetorical and the second one isn't, but Sam doesn't answer either one. He doesn't want to explain about the credit card he pulled from the back of his wallet to pay for the room. It's not the one that he usually uses, and it almost feels wrong to do so this time, but they need this break. Dean needs a break, even though he'd never admit it.
Their last job ended badly. They were taking care of a poltergeist in Montana. Dean sent the Jackson family -- a father and his two sons -- out of the house for the evening, suggesting they go to the ice cream shop just outside of town, and would they mind bringing back a dish of mint chocolate chip for him? The poltergeist problem was taken care of without a hitch, but it didn't matter. An elderly lady had lost control of her car and plowed head first into the Jackson's truck, killing all three of them.
And Dean used some twisted form of logic to come to the conclusion that he was partially to blame, since he had sent them out. It wasn't his fault by any stretch of the imagination, and Sam was sure the reasonable part of Dean realized that, but if anyone could understand how irrational guilt is, it's Sam.
So yeah, Dean needs a break. Besides, it's his birthday. If Sam had his way, they'd have made their way to a big city, checked into a posh hotel for a few days, maybe checked out the local music scene. Sam was even willing to go with Dean's taste in music, which he secretly likes but would never admit to. Instead, they're stuck here in Bumfuck, Wyoming, with a snowstorm brewing and closing the roads.
And Dean's being... well, he's being moody and Sam-like, and Sam really doesn't like it.
Sam clears his throat and glances over at Dean. "You hungry? I can go pick something up," he offers.
"Nah, I'm fine, but go ahead if you want. I'm gonna take a nap." Dean rolls over onto his stomach, bunching a pillow up underneath his head.
Sam stifles a sigh, closes the laptop, and leans across Dean to set it on the bedside table before shifting around so that he's straddling the upper part of Dean's legs. He's not resting his full weight on Dean, but as he leans forward, bracing his hands on the bed on either side of Dean's head and placing a light kiss on his shoulder, he can feel the heat and the dampness coming off of Dean's skin.
"Get off me, Sam." Dean's voice sounds flat and weary to Sam's ears, and he hates it.
"No," Sam whispers, simple and succinct and final, before pressing another kiss to Dean's skin.
Sam uses the tip of his tongue to connect the soft kisses he's leaving as he works his way over Dean's shoulder blade and down his back. Dean doesn't say anything else and he's perfectly still; Sam'd think he actually was going to sleep, but in the silent room Dean's shallow breaths are clearly audible and Sam knows he has his brother's full attention.
When he reaches the little dip just above Dean's ass, he shifts both of their bodies so that he's laying between Dean's legs and pulls the towel away. In a moment of evil playfulness, he bites the fleshy part of one cheek, probably harder than he intends to because Dean says "Ouch, Jesus, Sam!" and glares at him reproachfully over his shoulder. Sam just grins up at him and runs his tongue over the red spot his teeth have made.
