Vanilla Meme

[sweetprince]

In response to the rash of kink memes we've been having. If you like a little vanilla in your fic:



Rules
1. It's very important to remember that all entries be vanilla. By which we mean there can be sex, even explicit sex, just not the kind you might hesitate mentioning you've had in front of people that aren't fangirls. As memphis86 put it, "no whips, no chains, no cherry sauce." Angst or Schmoop though, go crazy.

2. Post as many prompts as you want. As you notice memphis86 and I were a little short on prompts for Dean/Castiel and Sam/Ruby. Don't let that stop you from participating.

3. When you reply, please post the prompt you've filled in the header so that we can link back to it easily. Multiple entries for the same prompt are totally awesome. Be nice, have fun!

Sam/Dean Prompts
-Sam/Dean, public displays of affection.
-Sam/Dean, cooking in a motel kitchen
-Sam/Dean, massage
-Sam/Dean, splitting the newspaper Here by bekkis
-Sam/Dean, reading aloud because someone is incapacitated or because they’ve stumbled across something funny and/or touching.
-Sam/Dean, making-out
-Sam/Dean, spooning
-Sam/Dean, making use of powers for foreplay
-Sam/Dean, dressing up for a masquerade party for a case
-Sam/Dean, running through water fountains
-Sam/Dean, swimming in the rain or skinny dipping Here by elohvee
-Sam/Dean, going to the beach
-Sam/Dean, a girl buying Sam a girly drink in a bar and Dean’s reaction
-Sam/Dean, Sam getting fitted for a suit after they destroy the old one on a hunt here by dark_reaction
-Sam/Dean, by a fireplace
-Sam/Dean, somebody mistaking Sam and Dean as a couple on an airplane when Dean is hyper-ventilating and Sam is trying to comfort him, and Dean getting pissed off that he has to sit next to the person that thinks he’s gay Here by lazy_daze
-Sam/Dean, mile-high club
-Sam/Dean, eating some kind of unusual ethnic food after Sam rebels at the suggestion of another roadside diner
-Sam/Dean, ending up at a dance club for a case and being forced to dance
-Sam/Dean, fixing a house up for a friend
-Sam/Dean, Chuck crossover where Sam is shopping at Buy More and geeking out over technology, Morgan assuming they’re gay and being obnoxiously overly helpful, Chuck having to drag him away
-Sam/Dean, morning after awkwardness after the first time
-Sam/Dean, “Dean, you’re an asshole, stop taking naked pictures of me.”Here by trueshellz
-Sam/Dean, case at a haunted sleep away camp and getting caught by the kids making out in the woods/canoe
-Sam/Dean, “Closing Time” by Semisonic comes on the radio and Sam remembers listening to it when he was younger and pining for Dean.
-Sam/Dean, falling asleep on each other’s shoulders in a public place
-Sam/Dean, Blackout Here by memphis86
-Sam/Dean, locked in a closet Here by memphis86
-Sam/Dean, watching True Blood Here by rosekay and not exactly a follow-up, but a spin off where Dean and Sam come across Fangtasia Here also by rosekay
-Sam/Dean, Sam makes up ridiculous rhymes to help him remember things. Dean counters with suggestive limericks
-Sam/Dean, A night in the library after-hours.
-Sam/Dean, Dean and Sam wander into a garden filled with good, old-fashioned sex pollen.
-Sam/Dean, vanilla ice-cream Here by dark_reaction and a follow up by ignited about Dean and an Ice Cream Truck here
thanks to nomelon
Sam/Dean - having to be very, very quiet
Sam/Dean - camping
Sam/Dean - on a deserted beach at sunset Here by ignipes
Sam/Dean - suntan lotion on sun-warmed skin, Dean's freckles, Sam's HANDS. Here by dark_reaction and Here by elohvee
Sam/Dean - tipsy Sam has never done bodyshots, Dean shows him how
Sam/Dean - playing football in a meadow
Sam/Dean - walking barefoot on the grass
Sam/Dean - asleep in the backseat of the Impala Here by trueshellz
Sam/Dean - haircut Here by bekkis
Sam/Dean - a sack of oranges Here by regala_electra

Sam/Ruby
-Sam/Ruby, Twister
-Sam/Ruby, training with powers
-Sam/Ruby, Sam geeking out about history and Ruby revealing how all of what he knows is wrong. Because she was there.
-Sam/Ruby, pretending to be married
-Sam/Ruby, Ruby getting lost in the cooking section of a bookstore and Sam being all shocked at this sudden display of domesticity

Dean/Castiel
-Dean/Castiel: Dean takes him to the movies. Castiel doesn't realize he needs to whisper inside. Here by seahorse_4215
-Dean/Castiel: Driving lessons in the impala. Dean almost makes Castiel swear a blood oath before setting foot into his "baby".

Assorted Other pairings
-Dean/Henriksen: Dean wakes up and Henriksen is watching him sleep, dirt on his hands from where he crawled out of the grave.
-Dean/Henriksen: Buddy cop cliche trope. Only sexier.

-Sam/Castiel: Asking for forgiveness.
-Sam/Castiel: Sam has an old scripture to translate. Castiel shows off his skilled tongue.

-Uriel/Castiel: Before the war, Uriel had the best sense of humor in the group. And Castiel used to laugh clear and free, smiling like the sun. And Uriel just wanted to see him like that every day.

-Lucifer/Castiel: Brothers in arms, er, wings.
-Lucifer/Sam: My favorite mistake.
-Lucifer/Ruby: Best minion ever.

-Pamela/Ruby: Why the Ramones are the best band Ruby would ever have the pleasure to hear during her time on Earth.
-Anna/Pamela: Pamela changing her bandages. Anna assists her, and can't help but steal a kiss.
-Ruby/Anna: Gay chicken in the backseat. Ruby started it! Here by not_refined and Here by slartibartfast
-Dean/Pamela: Pamela steals one of Dean's favorite classic rock t-shirts every time she spends the night. Dean doesn't notice for a few weeks.
Chuck/Castiel: Sometimes the dreams and reality start to get fuzzy. All that tequila doesn't help much either but Chuck's been waking up covered in feathers and should figure out why. Here by thunder_nari
Meg/Ruby - get magical amnesia and they're very drawn to one another but they have no idea why

So, get cracking!

Comments

Sam/Dean, “Dean, you’re an asshole, stop taking naked pictures of me.”

[trueshellz.livejournal.com]

In all honestly, Sam is used to waking up in odd conditions... and he can count, very clearly on one hand, the number of times he woke up sober, in no pain and in a familiar surrounding.

Except, the situation he's in right now?

Not familiar at all.

Click

Click

Click

"Dean..." Sam can't be bothered to open his eyes, he's tired and has a small headache brewing in the back of his eyes.

Also, light? No fun at all.

Click

"Dean!"

"What?" Dean draws the word out, so it sounds more like "Wha- at?" than anything else.

"What are you doing?"

Click

"Taking pictures." As if it's the most normal thing in the world.

"Well stop."

Click

So Sam, like all younger brothers, picks up a pillow and throws it in the general vicinity of his brother. Except, he is way off and the pillow lands on the floor a yard or so behind Dean... who is still taking pictures, and now is also moving around to get a better shot.

"Looking good Sammy... strike a pose." Dean chuckles.

“Dean, you’re an asshole, stop taking naked pictures of me.”

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why?' What if someone finds them?"

"Meh... all the more fun for them."

"And why are you taking naked pictures of me?"

"For fun." The bed dips and Sam feels himself being manouvered so that he;s on his stomach. "Open you eyes Sam."

Despite his eyes and mind protesting, Sam does. And realises belatedly, that Dean has closed the curtains and only has a small lamp on in the room. And in front of him is...

Well, he's not quite sure yet.

"Dean... what is this?"

"Er... well, you know how... all the pictures we had... got er, burnt in the fire. I thought it'd be fun to makeourown." The last few words come out rushed and Sam has to replay them in his mind to decipher what his brother just said.

And when he does he can't stop the grin that spreads on his face.

"That's..."

"If you saw sweet I will punch you."

"I was gonna say cool." Sam opens the album and flicks through it.

There are tonnes of pictures. Of the car, random places that they stopped in, motels, diners and their crappy food. Then there's a section of candids of the two of them. Of Sam sleeping, typing away on the laptop, fixing his hair in the morning and so on.

"Where are yours?" Sam looks up and Dean to see him shrug.

"I can't exactly take pictures of myself can I now Sam?"

Sam pulls the camera out of his brother's hands and turns it on. "Well, you better get used to the flashing then Dean." And he snaps a shot of Dean laughing.

"Ooh, flashing."

"Oh, shut up."
----

I have no idea what possessed me to write that.
x

Re: Sam/Dean, “Dean, you’re an asshole, stop taking naked pictures of me.”

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Hahahah! I love it. Sam being like "Why aren't you taking pictures of yourself?" This is really cute!

Re: Sam/Dean, “Dean, you’re an asshole, stop taking naked pictures of me.”

[girlmostlikely.livejournal.com]

"Ooh, flashing."

"Oh, shut up."

LOL. This is adorable!

Sam/Dean, swimming in the rain or skinny dipping

[elohvee.livejournal.com]

Note/Warning: Pre-series; I imagine Sam's around sixteen here.


The sky's getting dark overhead, rain clouds rushing in at full force and wind starting to rise, but they're still splashing around the river, laughing and dunking each other and stirring up brown circles of mud with their toes when they go down and scrape the floor.

They've been here since the sun was shining and it's starting to get a little cold, wind and the grey fading of the sun, and their skins prickle up with goose bumps every time they break the water, but Sam hasn't said anything about going back up to the house, yet, and Dean's not gonna force the issue. This is the happiest he's seen his brother in weeks.

Sam takes a run at him, and Dean's back hits the rocks with the slowed force of fighting in water. It doesn't hurt but he curses anyway, and Sam grins, wipes a hand over his face to push back his wet bangs.

"Dad's gonna start wonderin' where we are," Dean says, but his fingers reach up and grip at Sam's shoulder anyway, pull him in a little tighter. They're too old for this shit, but summer does this to them, sometimes, when they're standing still long enough to enjoy it.

Sam shrugs, drifting into him, easy with the current, and they bump together, hipbones and shoulders, and Sam loops one bony elbow around Dean's neck and shoves up against him. His eyes shut and he pants against Dean's cheek, breath hot, the water slipping from his face cool in the wind.

"Dad can wait," he mumbles, and Dean sucks in a breath, feels his heart hammering against his ribs, though it'd calmed from their roughhousing. This, here, is all for Sam.

Distantly, thunder rolls and lightning cracks the horizon, throws shadows over Sam's too-thin shoulders, the long stretch of the rest of him, under the waterline. "Oughta get going," Dean tries again, and Sam hmms, rolls against him, pressing Dean back against algae-covered rocks and mouthing at the cut of his jaw.

"Storm's too far away," he mutters, just as the rain starts, and Dean snorts, rolls his eyes and mumbles whathefuckever, turns his head so Sam can get at his mouth. He tastes like the water, like the barest sour trace of his morning coffee. Dad keeps saying it'll stunt his growth, then laughs sometimes, the only time he ever laughs, anymore.

Sam says, "Hey," and Dean pushes his fingers into his brother's hair, pulls him in tighter. Sam's cock is pressed against Dean's hip and he keeps hitching in, trying to hold back and pretend it's just the current, pretend he's not that desperate, but Dean sees right through it.

"So fuckin' easy," he says, and Sam laughs, a little ragged. He ruts a little harder, groans, and the water splashes around them. The wind rustles the trees overhead, whispering.

Dean lets his hand drop, finds the drawstring to Sam's shorts and tugs, pushes his hand over Sam's sharp hipbone and lower, gripping him.

"Fuck," Sam says, and he's trying to do the same, fumbling to return the favor.

Dean feels half-drunk, feels like he can't catch his breath. They could drown like this, Sam climbing all over him and fucking into his hand and pulling him down, making Dean forget where they are even in the rain, and he maybe ought to worry about that but all he can do is shove his free arm back, curl around one of the rocks and hold, let Sam run the show.

Sam comes saying Dean's name, over and over, and Dean thinks about how noise travels better over water, thinks for one crazy moment that Dad'll hear, way back at the house, and they'll be caught, this'll be done, even if they're both goddamn adults, almost anyway, but he still cares. Still—

"Come on, come on," Sam urges, and the thoughts spin to a halt, the thunder growls and Dean feels it deep in his chest, feels Sam's hand on him and Sam's mouth open and wet on his throat, sucking up rain water, river water, pulling blood up hot against the surface of the skin.

Dean comes and thinks he's sinking but Sam's holding him up, laughing in his ear. "Hey," he's saying, "Hey, Dean, you good?"

Dean grunts, drops his head back against the rocks, feels the rain on his face. "Fuck, fuck you," he mumbles, and under the cut of lightning, Sam's smile is blinding.

Re: Sam/Dean, swimming in the rain or skinny dipping

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

I LOVE YOU!

-Sam/Dean, Sam getting fitted for a suit after they destroy the old one on a hunt

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Dean would've been content to have Sam wear the old suit. Nobody would notice, he argued, but Sam held up a frayed pant leg with an obvious slash through the knee and the blood stains at the cuffs that turned the black fabric brown.

"No, Dean, I cannot wear this again," Sam said, dumping the pants in the trash. Sam was so large an excess of fabric overflowed from the can.

Dean also would've been content to go to a Big & Tall for Sam, but Sam refused that also. They went to a tiny family-owned tailor shop. In fifteen minutes they had Sam out of his jacket and jeans, and were happily pinning and cinching fabric to his body.

One of them, probably just eighteen, was hot in almost devastating way with lush breasts and a fall of dark hair that she swept back from her face every time she smoothed her hands down Sam's leg and adjusted the hem. Sam is stoic, uninterested. If Dean had a girl that close to his junk, he'd be cracking jokes and giving lascivious winks.

The suit starts to take the proper shape around him pretty rapidly, but Dean thinks the girls are taking their time, running their hands up and down Sam's body.

"We'll have the alterations done in two hours," the dark-haired hot one says.

"That's fast," Dean mutters.

Sam's lips twist. "We'll be back," he says, going into the dressing room to change back into his street clothes.

They get lunch afterwards and all Dean can think of in spite of the Monte Cristo they bring him as large as his head, was that girl, palm flat on in the side of Sam's thigh, saying coyly, "Dress to the left or to the right?"

Dean forgets sometimes that his brother is an attractive man. Well he knows he's attractive to Dean, but Dean's always loved him. They go back after an hour of Dean pushing his fries around and another hour of distracted reading in the library.

The girls are waiting for them, they push Sam into the dressing room, and when he comes out something hard and tight grips Dean's heart. He hates seeing Sam in a suit, it reminds him that maybe Sam should've had that other life, a life of lattes in one hand, a brief case in the other.

He was made to wear suits. The girls fall all over themselves with praise, and Sam's eyes crinkle in the barest hint of a smile. He wears it out the store, because they have to go visit the hospital later today. Dean feels strange, like he's stepped into another life, where he's a hunter and Sam's a suit wearing Joe.

When they get back to the motel he still hasn't said anything. Sam stares at him over the roof of the car. When they step inside their hotbox of a hotel room, Dean turns his back on Sam and goes to fiddle with the a/c unit. Sam comes up behind him, fingers clasping gently around Dean's elbow.

"What's going on?" he says, nuzzling the back of Dean's neck.

"I just--" he hates how unsure his voice sounds.

Sam tugs on Dean's chin until he's arched back against Sam's shoulder and Sam can kiss him. Sam's tongue flickers against the inside of his lip and it leaves Dean as breathless and wanting as the first time.

Sam pulls away, loosens the deep charcoal tie he bought along with the suit. "Whatever you're worried about, you shouldn't be."

Re: -Sam/Dean, Sam getting fitted for a suit after they destroy the old one on a hunt

[memphis86.livejournal.com]

Hee, Monte Cristo. That's my first thought. My second one being more like ooooooh and neck nuzzling yes! This was achingly good. :D

[ignited.livejournal.com]

Here's a prompt!

Sam/Dean, vanilla ice cream.

Sam/Dean, Vanilla Ice Cream

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Sam used to love vanilla ice cream, but then he'd had one crazy girlfriend before Jess, who always wanted to pour dessert on him and eat it off. After the fifth time of getting ice cream in his hair, in his pubes, mashed into his mouth and smelling like vanilla bean for days, he realized he couldn't eat it anymore.

There's this one girl on the case, she's pretty and sweet and she smells exactly like vanilla ice cream and Sam feels vaguely nauseous. He keeps wanting to cover his nose up with his hand, but he doesn't want to be rude.

When they leave, Dean asks him why he was being so twitchy. "You were like a beetle on it's back, Sam," he says.

Sam makes a face. "I hate vanilla ice cream."

"What?" Dean looks incredulous,"But it was all you would eat as a kid."

"Bad experience," is all Sam has to say. He can just imagine Dean laughing himself into next week.

Dean shoots him an indecipherable look as they head back to the car and then he leans across the space between him. The outside of his palm accidentally-on purpose skims Sam's thigh and he whispers in Sam's ear, "Well, that's okay, I like chocolate better."

[nomelon.livejournal.com]

Some prompts...?

Meg/Ruby - get magical amnesia and they're very drawn to one another but they have no idea why
Sam/Dean - having to be very, very quiet
Sam/Dean - camping
Sam/Dean - on a deserted beach at sunset
Sam/Dean - suntan lotion on sun-warmed skin, Dean's freckles, Sam's HANDS.
Sam/Dean - tipsy Sam has never done bodyshots, Dean shows him how
Sam/Dean - playing football in a meadow
Sam/Dean - walking barefoot on the grass
Sam/Dean - asleep in the backseat of the Impala
Sam/Dean - haircut

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

I WANT THE SUNTAN LOTION ONE, why am I so LAZYYYY!

Sam/Dean, splitting the newspaper

[bekkis.livejournal.com]

It's Dean's turn to make the breakfast run, so Sam sleeps in an extra thirty minutes and wakes up feeling like he actually slept more than two hours. Dean's still not back when he gets out of bed, so he pads to the shower and comes back out with just a towel wrapped around his waist. He bends down to pick through his duffel, trying to find something that passes the sniff test.

He's barely got his boxers over his hips when the door swings open, Dean singing obnoxiously and his sunglasses pushed up into his hair. He's carrying a couple of cups of coffee and a bag, the morning's newspaper tucked under his arm.

"Mornin' Sammy," Dean smirks and dumps the paper onto the table. He hands over one of the coffees and sits down on his bed, tearing into his coffee once Sam grabs his own.

Sam doesn't bother to pull the rest of his clothes off. It's warm and it's just Dean, so Sam just sits down next to him on the bed and starts into his breakfast, their thighs pressed together. Dean doesn't turn on the T.V. either this morning, just leans closer to Sam and eats his food.

It's been a quiet week, just moving from motel to motel with no real destination in mind. Sam knows it won't be long till Castiel or Bobby or someone will come calling with another disaster to pull them into the middle of, but for now, Sam's just enjoying their downtime.

Dean finishes his food first and grabs the paper off the table. He pulls out his half and Sam wipes his free hand on his thigh before grabbing his half of the paper. Dean pulls a pen out of his pocket and leans back into Sam, reading and circling names. Sam finishes his breakfast and takes a healthy gulp of coffee before starting in on his half.

In another twenty minutes Dean will tell him to get dressed, pack his shit and they'll get on the road. This twenty minutes in the morning is their time and Sam's gonna enjoy it.

Even if Dean tries to steal his coffee.

Re: Sam/Dean, splitting the newspaper

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Oh Sam, you should just always wear boxers. This was awesome!

Sam/Dean, locked in a closet

[memphis86.livejournal.com]

SIGH. You have my permission to delete this if it truly sucks and I will try again.


The metallic sounds of the latches being opened and shut, the squeak of a hinge and the snap of a lock and key sliding into place like clockwork, fit of hand in glove.

It's certainly pretty to look at, ornately designed with images of golden flowers running up and down dark-blue jade. And it's big, seven foot high by four, maybe five feet wide. Deceptively so, the angles of the glossy frame hiding the true depth of it. From where Sam sits, it looks like it'd be no bigger than your average closet or wardrobe.

Rattling back and forth on the ground and a shout of "Aha!" from within before the sound of another latch releasing.

"There! I think I got it–ah crap it's another false back," Dean says and Sam sighs heavily, shifting his head to his other hand so he can check his watch.

"It's been almost an hour, Dean. Can I please just break it open already? You can't have enough air in there right now either."

Dean thumps against the side of the closet, and it shakes with the weight of him, at least that's what Sam imagines, Dean throwing himself against it in defeat. "Sam, then The Amazing Mumble will know we were investigating him!"

"The Amazing Mumbo," Sam corrects. "Definitely a lack of oxygen to your brain."

"Whatever, we can't leave behind any traces," Dean says, and Sam hears him working on the locks again.

"Except when he finds you trapped in his closet."

Dean pauses, "It's a surprisingly large and complicated closet you know," he says, and Sam can almost hear the pout in his tone.

Sam sighs and shifts his head to rest on both of his hands as he draws his legs underneath him, and watches the closet start to shake and rattle again.

"Gah!" Dean shouts and Sam perks up immediately.

"What's going on?"

"Shit, there's a trapdoor. I lost part of the floor in here."

Sam rolls his head back. "That's it, I'm getting an axe."

"Luckily, I have this hook-thing to hold onto, so I probably won't fall. I think I can kick it back into place–" Dean says and just as Sam's about to make a run for the Impala, the doors swing open, the entire apparatus coming apart and the sides falling flat on the floor.

And Dean trips over his jacket and jeans piled on the floor, (it was getting hot in there, he had to strip down to just a t-shirt and his underwear, really), tumbling right into Sam's arms; he looks up, and smiles.

"Told you I could do it."

Sam raises his eyebrows. "All without the aid of your pants."

Dean realizes how close his lips are in the direction of Sam's chin. "You need to stop talking about me without pants."

Sam's mouth eye-level to Dean, wide smile of teeth and tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "You're the one not wearing, things."

Dean looks over his shoulder. "Yeah, we maybe should get those, things." He straightens himself up and turns to pick up the clothes he discarded in the pile of aluminum and plaster that was The Amazing Mumbo's disappearing cabinet. But when he turns around Sam's there and he tosses Dean's clothes over his shoulder with one hand, the other pulling him close for a kiss.

Sam's hand runs underneath Dean's threadbare shirt, and he makes a sound, pulling away from the kiss. "Your back is all sweaty."

"It was hot in there," Dean explains, blinking slowly and almost swaying on his feet, and who knows what he does exactly, probably steps on the wrong hinge and the cabinet pulls itself back together before either of them realizes what's happening and–

Locks itself shut.

Dean breathes out. "So, what do we tell Gumbo–"

"Mumbo."

"–Mumbo, when he finds the two of us trapped in here in our underwear?"

"You're not getting me out of my pants, Dean."

"Well how the hell else am I supposed to get into them, then?"

Re: Sam/Dean, locked in a closet

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Sam raises his eyebrows. "All without the aid of your pants."

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, WILLIS? THIS IS AMAZING. I really like how you reinterpreted it and I just love imagining Sam standing there nonplussed. AWESOMENESS.

Sam/Dean, somebody mistaking Sam and Dean as a couple on an airplane... 1

[lazy-daze.livejournal.com]

I love me some kink, AHAHA, but sometimes simple is perfect *_* and omg, I could not resist this prompt, even if it kinda ran away with me. It kind of melds in "falling asleep on each other’s shoulders in a public place", too. :D

--


"Why, why, how did you fuckin' talk me into this, Sam--"

The plane judders a little, picking up speed on the runway and Dean shuts up abruptly, going pale.

"Because you told me you can drive across the entire country before sunset tomorrow and for some reason, I don't believe you, and the once-in-a-decade ritual isn't going to wait, and nor will the big monster you were so excited about hunting in the first place."

Dean's gripping the armrest so hard his fingernails are little circles of pink on the inside surrounded by squeezed-white flesh, and Sam kind of wants to pry his hands loose because it looks like it hurts, but Dean's clearly not really in the mood to be touched. He makes a low growling noise. "Changed my mind. Monster can carry on killing, we can stay right here--oh fuckin' Jesus Christ Sammy no way this is even getting off the ground, we're gonna--"

The plane rumbles into a faster gear, and Dean shuts up again, this time closing his eyes along with his mouth, and really, Sam does feel a little sorry for him. The plane is most definitely getting off the ground, and at that first sensation of lifting, Dean's eyes fly open and he flails a hand out, clutching blindly at Sam until he's got a hand fisted awkwardly in Sam's t-shirt, and Sam figures now he's okay to be touched.

"Get me, get me the fuck out--" says Dean, panting, then he shoves his fist in his mouth and breathes harshly around it, until he's properly hyperventilating and Sam's actually a little worried that his brother's head might explode.

He quickly wraps one hand around Dean's own where it's grabbing at him, and puts the other flat on Dean's back and rubs firm and soothing. It feels kind of nice to be able to touch Dean like this without Dean making snarky comments at him, though at the same time seeing Dean so scared and non-functional kinda freaks him out; always does whenever Dean isn't in control, isn't the one Sam can look to but the one looking to Sam.

He does his best. "Breathe, dude, we're good, we're fine, people do this hundreds of times, we're not gonna crash; we have angels on our side, anyway, no way they'd let anything happen, seriously, the worst that's going to happen is that dude over there is going to give us a black eye for - I think he's mouthing the word faggots to his wife--"

That's not strictly true, but they are getting a very disapproving stare indeed from the guy across the aisle, and it gets Dean's eyes open and his breathing slows a bit. "What?" he demands, though he doesn't let go, and his fingers spasm tighter in Sam's shirt with every tiny movement of the plane. "What's his problem, huh?"

"Probably all the - y'know, clutching," says Sam, rubbing a thumb over the back of Dean's hand, and Dean scowls but doesn't move his fingers from their death-grip on Sam's shirt.

Dean makes a dismissive noise. "What, a guy can't, fuckin' - touch his brother during emotional trauma without being gay?"

"Or maybe he can sense they fact we are actually kind of gay together normally. Incesty sin rising up off us in waves."

"We're not being gay right now! I'm too busy trying to not die in this fucking death trap of a stupid fuckin' human invention to even think about your dick, sorry Sammy, but--"

Sam/Dean, somebody mistaking Sam and Dean as a couple on an airplane... 2

[lazy-daze.livejournal.com]

The plane dips slightly then, little stomach-shivering moment of weightlessness, and the seatbelt signs ping on. Dean makes a strangled sort of noise that might in other circumstances be hilarious, but Sam bites back any sort of reaction that would get him cut off for days - or at least until Dean got bored of his own hand - and rubs Dean's back soothingly again. The plane shudders some more and Dean moans sort of helplessly, flinching and cowering towards Sam, and Sam gives into his protective instinct and the hopeless urge to comfort and try to fix things by tugging Dean into his side, close as he can get with the armrest in the way, and Dean presses his face gratifyingly into Sam's chest.

The guy across the aisle shoots them another glare and clears his throat pointedly, and Sam levels a flat stare at him, wondering if his urge to kick this guy really hard in the balls is coming across.

The plane settles down into a smooth journey, and Dean relaxes a fraction but doesn't move, though he sighs sort of resignedly.

"Yeah," he mumbles, "okay, this is pretty gay."

Sam makes a hmmming noise. "I don't know," he says, "think we can be gayer. If we're gonna get glared at for it anyway." He wriggles down in his seat slightly, Dean flinching and clutching with each movement, until he can bend his head to Dean's ear and press a little kiss to the skin just under, slightly damp with nervous sweat. He touches his tongue out lightly and finally feels Dean shudder at something that isn't the swaying of the plane. "See, getting gayer," he says, lips brushing over Dean's ear, before he takes Dean's earlobe between his teeth and worries it a little, sucking gently. His hand caresses Dean's back and shoulder again, but less soothing and more sensual, and he feels Dean relax in stages against him, hand still gripping Sam's shirt but not quite so desperately.

Sam pulls back a little, and nudge Dean's nose with his own when Dean turns to look at him. "Now that was the gayest thing so far," Dean says, but he's kind of smiling a little bit and slumped against Sam. "Just so we're clear, this plane is like Vegas."

"Mmm?"

"What happens here, stays the fuck here."

And with that Dean lets out a huge sigh, like all the freaking out had exhausted him, and shoots a suspicious look around the plane, though Sam doesn't know if he's daring people to look at him judgmentally or daring the plane to shudder again. Either way, Dean seems satisfied, because a few minutes later he's snoring on Sam's shoulder.

He glances across the aisle and sees the wife of the Judgy Guy swallowing down a Valium, and a few minutes looks back to see her slumped over the armrest onto her husband's shoulder, mouth slightly open as she also snores.

Dean's warm and sleeping peacefully on his shoulder, and Sam feels happy and charitable, so he gives the guy a grin, sort of conspiratorial man, what we have to up with, eh?, and grins even harder when the guy gives him a confused half-smile in return.

Sam closes his eyes and tilts his head to rest his cheek on Dean's hair. He wonders how far he'll have to go distract Dean when it comes to landing. He goes to sleep with a little smile on his face.

Sam/Dean - haircut

[bekkis.livejournal.com]

Sam's always liked having his hair long.

When he was a kid, Dean used to cut his hair for him in motel sinks or whatever apartment they were crashing in at the time. Dad used to do it when Sam was really little and Dean was still too young to be trusted with a pair of scissors near his little brother's head. But Dad always cut it too short or got too frustrated and gave Sam a buzzcut that left him angry for days and Dean talked Dad into letting him cut Sam's hair from then on.

One summer, when Sam was fifteen, Dad had left them on their own in some shitty town down South because Sam wanted to finish out the school year. Dean bitched and complained, but Sam knew how to play his big brother by then and gave him the eyes and Dean had softened. That summer Sam spent around the house, sitting out back with books he borrowed from the library and his skin turned darker and darker. He let his hair grow out and Dean teased him, said he looked like a hippy, but Sam liked it anyway. Dean offered to cut it for him but Sam refused. Dad wasn't around and he could do whatever he wanted, stay up until 3AM reading and look at college brochures without anyone nosing around.

Dad came back halfway through August. By then Sam had a deep tan and his hair was almost to his shoulders. Dean had already shaved his own head halfway through the summer.

"I want his hair cut by the time I get back," Dad had said, taking what money they had left to buy more ammo.

Sam scowled and hid in his room. Dean had tapped on the door a few times, begging Sam to let him inside but Sam was too fucking stubborn to let him in.

Later, Sam wishes he let Dean cut his damn hair because when Dad gets back, he forces Sam into a chair and gives him a buzzcut, the shortest his hair's been in years. Sam doesn't talk to him for the rest of the summer and Dean takes to rubbing his head, thumb resting on his neck and giving him a small smile.

A few months after he leaves Stanford, Dean offers to cut his hair for the first time in years. Sam doesn't hesitate and when Dean's done, it's just as perfect as the last time he cut Sam's hair, biting his lip as he cuts the ends.

"Lookin' good, Sammy."

Re: Sam/Dean - haircut

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

I want this to happen in the show. That would be awesome!

[memphis86.livejournal.com]

Sam and Dean are given a sack of oranges by John.

This is for regala_electra to answer because she told me she would if I put it in. :D

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

she better not be fronting. That shit offends my warrior spirit.

[kelios.livejournal.com]

I love your Dean, he was perfect! And your Sam--it was nice to see him being strong in a good way and putting aside his worry for Dean to help him :)

Sam/Dean - on a deserted beach at sunset

[ignipes.livejournal.com]

"I'm gonna sleep through it," Sam says. He's facing the sea and he's nodding slowly, like this is a big decision he's been pondering for hours.

Dean wants to reach over and brush the too-long, wind-mussed hair back from Sam's face, but he doesn't. He picks up a handful of sand and lets the grains slide between his fingers. "Sleep through what?"

"Through the sunrise tomorrow." Sam nods again, then he looks at Dean. The sunset is rosy and bright: Sam is squinting but not quite smiling. Dean can't quite figure out that look on Sam's face, but for the first time in a long time he doesn't mind. "I've been thinking about it. You know, whether or not I wanted to see it. But I'm pretty sure I'm gonna sleep."

"Okay," Dean says slowly, the syllables drawn out and lazy. He's had a lot of years of practice putting "I'm agreeing with you only because I think you're a crazy person and am worried you might bite but not in the sexy-fun way" into that one word. It's a Winchester family skill; Sam only picked it up too because he learned from the best.

Sam does smile at that, a slow and easy grin spreading across his face. He leans back on his elbows and stretches his legs out long, digs his heels into the sand. "I didn't think there'd be another one," he says. "I wanted to make sure."

Dean's not going to let that grin slip off Sam's face. "You know the sun rises every day, dude. That's, you know." He waves his hand illustratively above his head. "Astronomy and shit. Didn't they teach you anything in school?"

Sam shakes his head. "It doesn't count if we're not here to see it."

Sam's voice is still hoarse – too much smoke, too many screams – and the bruises are still vivid along his jaw, around his neck, and suddenly Dean's having trouble breathing.

He gets it. He knows damn well what it feels like to believe there will never be another sunrise. ("It's dark," he's learned to say whenever everybody asks him, whenever curiosity about Hell outweighs their allies' better judgment. "It's dark and hot and worse than you think." Sam doesn't ask anymore.) He just didn't think – all these months, all this time the world has been fighting to survive and they've been fighting right there with it, ever since the last seal fell – even when there was nothing else to hope for, nothing else to fight for, the one thing that kept Dean on his feet was the determination that Sam would never know that feeling. He thought he could manage that, even if everything else fell apart.

"Hey," Sam says. He touches Dean's shoulder. "Stop that."

"What?"

"Brooding," Sam says.

Dean turns to glare at him, and Sam laughs.

"Yes, you are," Sam says. "That's my job, so stop it. We won. You won. We saved the world."

"The whole world," Dean agrees, because that will never not be cool. "The whole fucking thing."

He sighs – and ignores Sam's fond eyeroll – and leans back, falling into the same comfortable position on the sand. It's getting darker but the air is still warm, pleasant and salt-scented, the surf gentle and quiet. There's nobody on the beach except them, nothing in the encroaching darkness except stars and a restful night. Dean closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He wonders if he's just imagining it, the way the air tastes better on this side of the apocalypse.

"I just hope," Sam begins quietly.

Dean waits, eyes closed, relaxed. Sam is a warm, solid shape beside him, familiar and no more than inches away.

"I just hope the world doesn't decide to repay us with a freak tidal wave," Sam says. "That would really suck."

Dean lets out a completely undignified snort of laughter, but he doesn't bother stifling it. There's nobody but Sam for miles around.

Re: Sam/Dean - on a deserted beach at sunset

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

the way the air tastes better on this side of the apocalypse. That is just, yes, I really love that...that...well not image, but I guess it does conjure something up. It's really good.

Oh man, the way you wrote it, I'm just brimming with love for the both of them.

Dean/Sam Blackout, R-ish, part 1

[memphis86.livejournal.com]

The lights in the motel room start to flicker and in that moment, Sam's breath catches and Dean's hand tightens over his gun. The look to one another, both mentally running down a list of the things it could be, the demons that might have caught wind of them, and come crashing through the door; or the angels that could be standing right behind them, waiting for them to drop their guard and sneak up to surprise them.

Angels were fond of the surprise entrance, Dean had this theory that making them jump up in shock and yelp was the only fun Castiel was allowed to have.

But instead of simply going back to normal, and either a demon busting down the door or an angel leaning over their shoulder, the lights go out. Along with the television, the neon sign glowing in the window, the streetlights, and the air conditioner sputters and dies.

Turns out it's neither demon nor omen nor angry spirit, just a blackout caused by the worst heatwave to hit the Midwest since the dustbowl, and when Dean says it out loud Sam jabs him hard in the side.

"It's not funny, people fucking starved to death," Sam says, shifting his legs to a different side and brushing off a few blades of grass that are sticking to the underside of his calf.

They stayed in the room with the windows open for as long as they could but without any kind of air circulating it's almost more comfortable to be outside. So they moved to the thatch of grass near the motel driveway, taking advantage of the occasional breeze that rolls down the side of the road as a car passes by.

Dean rolls his head back. "And once again, you were scarred by the high school lit retelling of it. Waking up drenched in sweat, crying out for the rabbits, George."

"That's Of Mice and Men, Dean. I think you're trying to reference the Grapes of Wrath," Sam says.

"Never go hungry again, as God as your witness," Dean murmurs into Sam's shoulder.

"That's Gone With The Wind, and what are you–" Sam sighs as he realizes Dean must be wiping the sweat from his forehead onto Sam's shirtsleeve. That's nothing out of the ordinary and shouldn't warrant the way Sam's stomach decides to flip itself inside out.

What is out of the ordinary is Dean pulling Sam's arm, so that he faces him and gives him that big kid smile. The kind he gives the waitress when she gives him extra bacon for his burger or the kind he reserves for Sam when he remembers the pie.

"Hey, you know I'm really happy it was a blackout."

Sam's nose twitches involuntarily. "Yeah, that's just, swell?"

"I mean, it's just a blackout—and no I'm not trying to say I'm glad the blackout happened. But in a way, doesn't it feel good? Just a little? In the way that everyone else out there is blacked out," Dean stares back off into the distance. "It's not just us."

Sam runs his tongue around his lower lip. "I guess, if you look at it that way, it feels kind of normal."

"And it's just the power company blowing a fuse in a heatwave, not the sign of some Demonic lord approaching and raining down fire and brimstone," Dean scoffs. "Which of course was the first thing I assumed it was."

"That was my second. The first thing I thought was that Castiel was psyching us out again."

"I gotta get him a fucking bell, or something." Dean's focus is still on the road stretching ahead, and Sam takes in the moment. The silence of the motel as everyone had already driven off to the bars or restaurants to help them finish out their supply before it went sour from lack of refrigeration.

"Why didn't we go down to the bar, Dean?" Sam asks and Dean doesn't answer. It's all silence save for the sound of another car passing by, kicking up a breeze that hits them and then Dean turns to Sam.

"Want to go back to the room?"

Sam tilts his head, "Now?"

Dean/Sam Blackout, R-ish, part 2

[memphis86.livejournal.com]

"Now's good."

"You want to go back even though the room's dark and it's hot as hell in there?" Sam asks, maybe more like a rhetorical question because Dean's already up, tugging Sam's collar to try and pry him along.

"Yeah, c'mon it's our first non-demonic blackout. We could light candles and listen to battery-powered radio and get the full experience."

"But I checked and we're out of emergency candles, we only had summoning and banishing candles left."

Dean smiles. "I have a stash of them somewhere."

**

Dean manages to produce a pack of unused birthday cake candles, which make pretty lousy lights so Sam uses the glow of his cellphone to navigate the room without bumping into furniture.

"Dean, c'mon let's go back outside, it's pitch black in here. At least the motel manger has those emergency lights up with his generator."

Dean blows out the little blue candle in his hand and flops back on the bed. "You should stop wasting the battery on that thing," he says to Sam.

Sam narrows his eyes. "What is going on with you tonight, Dean? It's just a blackout," he says, sitting on the bed beside him.

Dean shrugs his shoulders. "I've never had blackout sex."

Sam's mouth gets dry all of a sudden. "Oh."

"I heard from someone blackout sex doesn't count. It's like sex in another country, or Vegas, or sex at the end of the world. Well, maybe more like sex at the end of the world only you're using it as an excuse to have sex you normally wouldn't have."

"Oh," Sam says, quietly clicking off his cellphone. The room is pitch black, warm, and Dean's mouth is on his, hands peeling off the layers of clothing stuck to Sam with sweat and heat.

"So, blackout sex doesn't count," Sam manages when Dean releases his mouth and he's pushing him into the bed, and it's hot—so hot he doesn't want to move and doesn't want to have Dean's body on him like a furnace, but can't stop his arms from wrapping around his neck and bringing him closer.

"Nope, doesn't count, it's hot and filthy and disgusting and it's a free pass on everything."

Sam breathes, more heat to add to the room, more heat to surround him, fill him, fuck him raw. "Good to know."

**

In the morning, when the air conditioner sputters to life and jars them awake, Dean almost choking on a snore and Sam's mouth feeling raw and back in the wrong place and numbness in two of his fingers that Dean may have slept on, he takes in a moment to think.

"I heard that post-blackout sex doesn't count either," Sam says.

Dean looks over his shoulder at him with bedroom eyes and hair sticking up in the back and flattened down in the front.

"Let's hope for your sake it doesn't, you have the stupidest looking bedhead in the known universe. I have standards, Sammy," Dean yawns. "But get the condoms and we'll see."

[evdokya.livejournal.com]

Dean/Castiel - secret love
Dean Smith/Castiel - what's in the name?
Dean/Castiel - a kiss is just a kiss, right?
Dean/Castiel - midnight
Dean/Castiel - "I believe in miracles now."
Dean/Castiel - if you love me
Dean/Castiel - fluff
Dean/Castiel - heaven beside you
Dean/Castiel - sadness in the night
Dean/Castiel - imperfect love
Dean/Castiel - if only for one night
Dean/Castiel - obeying orders

Sam/Ruby - toxic

John/Mary - everlasting love
John/Mary - meant to be
John/Ellen - one-night stand
John/Ellen - guilty sex

[newt-slash.livejournal.com]

Dean/Castiel - Dean Housebound. Sam and Cas Having to hunt and research together. Dean getting miffed/jealous.
Dean/Castiel - Bobby clueing Cas/dean into the fact that they might just be fond of each other.
Castiel/Dean - Awkwardness of the day after.
Castiel/Dean - All the little things.
Castiel/Dean - Scary feelings.

Dean/Castiel: Dean takes him to the movies. Castiel doesn't realize he needs to whisper inside.

[seahorse-4215.livejournal.com]

"Why are these people singing?" Castiel asked suddenly, breaking away from Dean's arms. He pointed up at the movie screen. "And they're dancing now, too. Do modern humans do that sort of thing often?" Someone behind them shushed Cas loudly and Dean sank a little bit lower in his seat.

Date night, he'd figured, would be easy. Get Cas some food, walk to the theater, take the first showing possible, sit in the back, and make out like teenagers for the whole two hours or so. And of course, he'd made the mistake of letting Cas pick the movie, and, well...

"It's a musical, Cas," he whispered, "They're supposed to sing." Dean leaned back in, hoping they could pick up where they left off, but Castiel moved his head out of the way.

"But why?"

"Shhhh!"

Dean sighed. "Cas, you've got to keep it down, or we're going to get kicked out."

Castiel nodded and repeated the question again, only this time in a loud stage whisper. A box of Junior Mints, hurled from two rows behind them, whizzed by Dean's ear.

"Cas, you're not supposed to talk during a movie. It's against the rules," Dean pointed out, hoping to appeal to the angel's by-the-book Boy Scout logic.

Castiel turned to look at him, blue eyes still bright even in the darkened theater. "But you're talking, too."

"Yeah, know how you can stop that?" Dean grabbed the angel's tie and yanked him into a kiss.

End

A/N: I watched Mama Mia yesterday, which is kind of where this came from. *shuffles away sheepishly*

Re: Dean/Castiel: Dean takes him to the movies. Castiel doesn't realize he needs to whisper inside.

[not-refined.livejournal.com]

Awww! I love that. It's so very very cute and YAY Mamma Mia!!! :D

Chuck/Castiel: Sometimes the dreams and reality start to get fuzzy. All that tequila... (part 1)

[thunder-nari.livejournal.com]

I...think I may have deviated from the prompt a bit... *facepalm*

--


There is something intoxicating about knowing that a human can see him as he is.

He had thought, surely Dean would see him as he is. Dean is special, chosen, righteous. If Dean couldn't then who would?

The first time he actually meets Chuck the prophet, he discovers the truth. Chuck's eyes fall on him and he immediately knows who Castiel is, not because Chuck has written about him in Jimmy's body, in Jimmy's clothes, but because Chuck can see him. Chuck can see him and it leaves the prophet speechless. For a moment, it leaves Castiel speechless as well.

Chuck looked and saw and was awed. And then scared.

Castiel watches Chuck scurry up the stares before forcing himself to turn his attention back to Dean.

He can't chase the look on Chuck's face from his mind.

**

Castiel wonders exactly what humans see when they know they're looking at an angel. Do they see the outpouring of bright energy? Do they see the wings that span rooms and sail through walls as though the walls were immaterial but the wings fully real? Do they see only an aura of what Castiel really is? The shifting changes as he thinks, as he has emotions the way Castiel sees a human soul? Do they see how he has twisted or can they see the stain that spreads across his grace as he...bends the rules?

Castiel waits until long after Chuck has started drinking. Alcohol weakens inhibition he believes and so he believes that Chuck will see him clearer this way, while the rest of his world blurs. Castiel...wants to stand out.

Chuck jumps so hard when Castiel appears before him that the bottle of tequila he'd had nearly goes flying to the floor. Castiel catches it and sets it carefully on the coffee table before the couch.

“Jesus! No, I mean...” Chuck runs out of words and stares at Castiel.

“What do you see?” Castiel asks, curiosity lacing through his voice and shivering down his wingtips. Chuck doesn't answer, his mouth works for a moment but no words come out. His gaze trails the shiver though and Castiel arches up his wings.

Two feathers float loose and drift to Chuck's shirt. He plucks one up as though it were a real material thing instead of energy and grace.

Castiel stares and then he's gone.

**

Chuck wakes hours later with the feather still clutched in his fist and the other poking him in the ribs with it's quill with no clue how they got there.

**

Castiel is fairly sure that this isn't normal. There have been many prophets over his existence. True, that he has had little reason to interact with them on such a personal level but he doesn't believe that any of them could touch an angel's feathers, whatever of the wings they could actually see. He wonders what this might reflect on himself more than Chuck. If perhaps he's gone so far that he's becoming...material here, if this is a step towards falling.

It's endlessly fascinating and terrifying by turns.

He needs to see it again.

Chuck has finished off the bottle of tequila when Castiel appears the second night. This time, he spreads his wings and runs the tips of them over Chuck's arms before Chuck can respond.

Chuck's mouth falls open and he moans. Castiel finds that endlessly fascinating as well. His own reaction shudders through his wings, through his grace, and outwards to Jimmy's body.

“This is...” Impossible, he wants to say. But his feathers trail over Chuck's arms again and Castiel feels it through every other part of him.

“Really fucking weird,” Chuck finishes for him instead and Castiel nods his agreement.

Then he slides down onto Chuck's lap and Chuck's moans feel amazing when they're vibrating against Castiel's mouth.

**

Chuck wakes that morning with feathers scattered to either side of him. One has somehow gotten under his shirt.

**

Re: Chuck/Castiel: Sometimes the dreams and reality start to get fuzzy. All that tequila... (part 2)

[thunder-nari.livejournal.com]

**

There's a new bottle of tequila on the coffee table but it's top remains untwisted. Chuck sits and stares at it like it's the cause for everything weird in his life. Castiel knows better and he appears before Chuck with a hint of a smile.

Chuck's eyes widen and they're so immediately focused on Castiel that Castiel feels tendrils of warmth wrap through his grace. No one has noticed him so thoroughly before and certainly not every part of him. He brushes one wing tip against Chuck's cheek and the man's eyes shutter closed for an instant.

When Castiel moves forward, though, Chuck's eyes widen and he shuffles back on the couch until he's pressed in the corner. “Wait wait!” His hands are raised to ward Castiel off.

Castiel pauses, head tipped to study Chuck. Chuck's soul flares up bright and dark, torn. As Castiel knows he should be torn but he isn't. Chuck's eyes still focus on him.

“Okay, whatever this is about, Cas, I really don't appreciate waking up with feathers poking me in places feathers should never be poking.”

Castiel looks to the side, at his wing. Chuck's eyes follow the gaze. “It's about...” Castiel starts, stops. Tries again. He passes his wing, pushes with the long flight feathers, against Chuck's chest and feels. “No one sees. No one.”

They do not see him. How he struggles and fights and falls. He can grip to someone's soul and still they do not see. He can bend every part of him and still they do not see. But this prophet...

“I do,” Chuck says, an echo to his thoughts because Chuck sees him, knows him, writes him.

Castiel sighs and nods. He trails feathers along Chuck's chest, presses the tip of his wing between Chuck's legs. This time, Chuck lets him come closer and he doesn't complain again about feathers in unwanted places.

Because Chuck knows him. Perhaps one day others will as well.

Dean/Castiel, hugging

[ibroketuesday.livejournal.com]

Yeah, that's about it.

I like, like lots

[sherockkzz.livejournal.com]

I enjoyed that alot, i hope you write more Castiel stories.

Sam/Dean - asleep in the backseat of the Impala

[trueshellz.livejournal.com]

It's not like they get a lot of time to sleep on a case, if they're not staking a place out, they're researching, digging up a grave or end up getting caught by some random strangers and get tortured.

So, as the Winchester way goes, they sleep whenever and wherever they can. And that includes sleeping in the Impala which, while being a very good mode of transport, isn't the most comfortable place to fall asleep. Especially if you're six foot- plus.

What Sam doesn't know is that all the times he's fallen asleep in the back of the Impala, while they've been on the road, Dean's always looked after him.

Most times, Sam falls asleep with his head buried in a book... so he sleeps with the book on his face, or on his lap, or he's lying on his back so the book flops on his face. And to be honest, he doesn't fall asleep in the most comfortable positions... which is why he doesn't understand that when he wakes up, he feels pretty good and covered in the blanket with the book on the floor of the Impala.

Like I said... Sam really has no idea that Dean can tell the exact time that Sam falls asleep. His breathing shallows out and he'll start making this small- and Dean won't ever admit this- but slightly cute noises like he's whistling. So Dean knows that from then on, Sam is completely knocked out and it'll take a lot to wake him up. And he can get to work

Dean will park the car at the side of the road, move the book, laptop, newspaper article or whatever the hell that his brother is holding and place it on the floor. He'll shuffle around for the blanket and maneuver Sam so that he falls asleep fairly comfortably and then place his own jacket under his brother's head and the blanket on top. Then, as he drives off, he'll turn the music down and in relative silence.

But, the thing that Dean doesn't know?

Is that Sam does exactly the same thing for him too.

---

Have no idea how this became such schmoop... do not ask!
x

Re: Sam/Dean - asleep in the backseat of the Impala

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

Schmoop is always a good thing in this fandom!

Ruby/Anna: Gay chicken in the backseat. Ruby started it! (1/2)

[not-refined.livejournal.com]

“Oh my god, this is boring.”

Anna casts a sidelong glance at her. “You look... restless.” She decides not to press the delicate ‘God’ point. Right now, she isn’t exactly hot on being a good little Christian girl herself.

“This guy drives like an old woman!” Ruby stretches her leg out and kicks the back of the driver’s seat. Dean grunts and Anna swears she hears his teeth grinding.

“Dean...” Sam’s voice is soft and warning.

“Do you think if you provoke him enough he’ll let you drive?” Anna asks quietly. She knows neither of the Winchesters can hear her, are even listening. One good thing about demons is their hearing.

Ruby rolls her dark eyes. Dark, but not black. “Dean’s practically stapled to this car. Sam let me get above the speed limit a couple of times, back when...” she darts a brief look at the back of Dean’s head and Anna understands what she doesn’t want to refer to. Ugly times. Uglier than this. “A car like this deserves speed.”

She watches how Ruby’s face goes from bitter to animated, even wistful. “Hm.”

“What?”

“You’re unreadable.”

“Don’t try and pull your angel-fu on me.”

Anna sighs. Ruby knows very well she can’t.

The demon sounds practically comforting when she speaks into the quiet, misunderstanding Anna’s unhappiness. “Yeah, well. That’s why we got all this trouble. Gotta get your mojo going again.”

“Out of the two of us, I’m the trouble?”

“Shocking, I know,” Ruby leans back, crossing her arms, eyes sliding to focus on Anna. “Don’t worry. They’re actually pretty good at what they do.” Typical, self-centred demon, her ‘comforting’ lasts exactly eight seconds. “What are you talking about, unreadable? I’m an open book, sister.”

“Sure.”

“I am.”

“Stop looking at me like that, then.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m a meat suit.”

“You are. Right? Once you juice up, you’ll be outta that Pippi Longstocking getup, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.” Anna scowls. She hasn’t thought about that part. Deliberately. This is her body. That means something, it has to. Or else she is just going to be like the rest of them, talking about vessels and humans until it all means the same thing. Lower beings. Savages. Filth. “That doesn’t mean you can jump into it.”

“Please. Not really my style. Besides, if I wanted to get inside you, I could do it without you getting evicted.” Ruby kicks the back of Dean’s seat again, just for fun, it seems.

He makes another wordless, growling noise and Anna murmurs, “Why don’t we...” She feels like everyone’s mother, but she does have some experience of dissention and infighting. What’s the harm in using it? “Why don’t we play a game?”

Ruby raises her eyebrows, arms still crossed. “Lacrosse?” she asks, looking around their confined space unwillingly. “Baseball?”

“I spy?”

“Ooh, exciting.” She glares out of the window at the rolling, empty night. It’s going to be a long one, a night without conclusion. Anna can feel it. “I spy with my little eye something beginning with D.”

Anna smirks. “Dean.”

He turns his head slightly. “You say something?”

“No,” Ruby gives him one more kick. “I was going for ‘darkness’. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

“I have holy water,” he snaps.

“Both of you lay off each other,” Sam interjects and Anna nudges Ruby’s ankle with her own. It works. The demon jumps as if she has been bitten, her attention fully relocated.

“How would you like to keep yourself amused?”

“It involves homicide.”

Looking at Ruby, she can believe that. “Think of something more PG rated.”

“How about PG-13?”

“Fine.”

Ruby/Anna: Gay chicken in the backseat. Ruby started it! (2/2)

[not-refined.livejournal.com]

“Truth or dare.”

Anna forces herself not to laugh. “You’re kidding?”

Ruby stares at her. “Truth or dare, Anna.”

If it keeps Dean from pulling over and performing an exorcism, then... “Truth.”


“You’re a virgin, aren’t you? I can tell.”

She closes her eyes with a sigh. “That’s private.”

“That’s the point.”

“I forfeit.”

“Then you have to take a dare instead. Them’s the breaks.”

“Demons are meant to be evil, not irritating,” Anna rubs her forehead and whispers, “what’s the dare?”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“C’mon. You’re an angel. I’m a demon. We’re both riding chicks right now. Fun. And you’re not big on the rules, are you?”

Understatement. Ruby acts like she’s talking to a mildly disobedient schoolgirl, rather than an angel who decided to fall. “I’m not...”

“C’mon,” Ruby says again, pushier now, leaning forward, “dare ya.” At the same time she is pulling her foot back like she might use it against Dean in order to cause a fight.

So. To prevent more animosity... Anna can probably... well. It’s a dare. She can’t back down. She tilts her body forward, matching Ruby, and her hair falls forward, heavy and embarrassingly girlish. Ruby laughs very softly and uses the tips of her fingers to push it back.

Instinctive repulsion rears up but it dies before she can even focus in on it, burns right out.


Surprisingly, Ruby is warm and Anna doesn’t think she has ever been colder, lonelier, in her whole human life. Crazy. To be isolated, to be scared. She is breathing in the air that Ruby only pretends to exhale and she can feel soft lips only just brushing against hers. A little too tender for something entirely evil, surely? Ruby is... different.

“Reality meet porn.”

Anna jerks her head back at the sound of Dean’s voice and Ruby grins with this annoying streak of triumph that makes her think she has something to prove. “I win.”

“You win?” she asks.

“What are you doing?” Sam has twisted all the way around and is squinting at them, confused. He obviously wasn’t watching them.

Dean, who clearly was, cuts in, “Yeah, what exactly was that?” He sounds amused, and perhaps a bit angry. Ruby opens her mouth to speak and Dean interrupts before she can get a word in, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“I was trying to stop her from killing someone,” Anna says faintly, and she should be blushing but she just isn’t that concerned, not as humiliated as she ought to be. “It’s a stupid game. She started all this.”

“I did not.”

“Says you.” Dean’s ‘you’ sounds more loaded than it maybe should. “Who am I gonna believe? An angel or a demon?”

Ruby resumes her cross armed stance, leaning right back and staring out of the window, deliberately not looking at anybody but her own reflection. “That’s racial profiling.”

“If you can’t behave yourself, I’ll make you switch places with Sammy. I’ll keep a good eye on you.”

Anna keeps her mouth closed, holds back an unexpected, partly hysterical giggle. When Dean goes back to concentrating on the road and Sam quits gawping, she moves her foot just enough to knock her shoe against Ruby’s. This time, there is no real reaction, but she meets Ruby’s eyes in the dark window’s reflection.

It makes her inexplicably warm when she sees that Ruby is smiling back at her.

Anna mouths, “Truth or dare?” and watches while Ruby registers her question.

The silent reply is, predictably, “Dare.”

Ruby/Anna: Gay chicken in the backseat. Ruby started it! {PG-13}

[slartibartfast.livejournal.com]

“Dude, you're confusing reality with porn again.”



The ride was longer than Ruby had expected and she was getting restless. When she could travel faster than a thought in her natural body, being cooped up in there was not exactly her idea of a good time. She was bored. And as always, when bored, she got a bit of the devil in her.

Not literally. Dude, she might be a fan of his but he really wasn’t the first one she’d go to for some gratification. Way, way too egotistical. And yeah, she’d probably get a slap for that thought when she next headed back down homewards but it made her grin to herself anyway.

Then the brothers had that stupid little exchange about reality and porn and Anna caught Ruby’s eye, mirroring her own entirely amused smirk. Ruby’s interest was instantly piqued; she hadn’t expected to see that look gracing the face of an angel, even if that angel had a beating human heart. This was too good to pass up.

She unclipped her seatbelt and shuffled across to close the gap between them, eyebrows raised. Neither of the Winchesters noticed her move. Neither of them noticed when Ruby’s arm draped around Anna’s shoulders or the grin that spread over their faces, matched in amusement and in mischief. Neither of them noticed when they leaned closer, and closer, and closer...

Anna’s lips were barely an inch from hers, parted on warm breath, their shoulders tucked close together and finally one of the guys looked into the mirror to see why they’d fallen so entirely silent when Ruby had been bitching incessantly only moments before.

“Jesus Christ,” shouted Dean. The car nearly swerved off the road and Ruby lurched forwards at the sudden change in momentum, managing to firmly headbutt Anna in the side of the head.

Anna didn’t look too torn up about that, though; she was grinning when Ruby managed to right herself, rubbing her fingers against her scalp where Ruby had hit her. “Not the most elegant end to gay chicken,” Anna said. At the stunned silence from the Winchester boys, she shrugged. “Ruby started it.”

Ruby raised her eyebrows and placed herself back in her seat. “Yeah, whatever, angel girl. Isn’t lying a sin?”

“Isn’t kissing a demon a sin?” Anna countered, leaning back and looking far too smug for Ruby’s liking. “Still, I win.”

“What? No you didn’t!” Ruby protested.

“You pulled away,” Anna pointed out calmly.

Ruby rolled her eyes. “No. I didn’t.”

Dean and Sam shared a wide-eyed, caught-in-the-headlights look of complete confusion before Sam turned in his seat to stare at them as if direct exposure would somehow make this some kind of logical. “Gay chicken?”

“What, you’re telling me you’ve never played it?” asked Ruby. She replaced the smirk on her face with an all-out grin and folded her arms.

“Are you five or something?” he asked.

Anna raised an eyebrow. “You know, I’m pretty sure five year olds don’t play this particular game.”

Dean slapped his brother on the shoulder. “Dude, they wanna kiss, let them kiss.”

“You’re a pervert, Dean,” said Ruby. She turned her scathing, thoroughly entertained gaze onto Anna. “And you lost.”

Anna obviously didn’t know when a battle was lost (angels were known for that particular trait) and launched herself towards Ruby so quickly the demon nearly popped out of her meatsuit in shock and then she was really fucking glad she didn’t because Anna’s lips were on hers. Not just a brief touch, either. It was a full on press, slightly cold hands against her cheek to hold her head still.

Ruby’s eyes were as wide as the brother’s when Anna, the very picture of calm and collected, sat back in her place and brushed down her hair.

“I win,” Anna said triumphantly, and Ruby had to concede. Just as soon as she picked her jaw off the ground, anyway.

Sam/Dean, watching True Blood

[rosekay.livejournal.com]

Couldn't. resist.

*

"As your maker, Ah command you to get my coffee, bitch."

"Dean, I don't think Bill is quite up to the vernacular."

"You're just jealous you don't have Sookie's tits."

Sam thought his eyes were going to roll right back into his head.

Dean took a moment to appreciate the way said tits were attractively lit by candlelight as she writhed on the screen, the string soundtrack swelling momentously. He actually licked his lips, lazy pink swipe to highlight the way he settled further into the couch, legs spread, like he wanted to melt into the cheap canvas. The room's dim light hid the stress lines on his face, made him look more like the Dean who had slouched and smirked while Dad had the wheel, all eyes and shark lean slouch. But he could see where Dean had relearned to laugh after everything, the little shadows about his mouth that grew more prominent when he was unhappy with a case. The content took Sam by surprise; he -

"As your maker - "

He was going to kill Dean.

"Dean."

Who smirked like Sam's frown was the second coming.

"Sucky, are you displeased?"

He helpfully knocked his knee against Sam's, squirming closer until he was half in Sam's lap, one hand right at his neck, holding him still against the couch. Sam could see his ring glinting in his peripheral vision. He pointedly concentrated on the screen, where the blond Viking one towered over all the other characters, moodily slinking his way through the scene. He was disproportionately pleased at the thought that he probably had some muscle weight on the guy.

Dean pushed his way directly into Sam's line of sight, blocking the cheap TV from view. The kiss he darted in for was surprisingly chaste, just a soft question, hot breath against the corner of Sam's mouth, the other hand lazily dragging through the mess of his hair. Sam surged up a fraction, angling his head for a little more control. He bit down purposefully, salt and soft flesh between his teeth. Dean's surprised gasp and barely suppressed shudder made him smile into the kiss. Relaxing, he swiped his tongue over the sore spot on Dean's red mouth, slipping past his brother's teeth as he brought a hand up to bring them closer.

"You start talking in that accent again - "

"You'll what?"

Dean's grin was white and just a little dangerous. Behind him, Bill Compton glowered at the curtains, not nearly so threatening.

Sam laughed, happy to take the bait.

Re: Sam/Dean, watching True Blood

[dark-reaction.livejournal.com]

OH MY GOD! I love you. Now if only I could get the Winchesters running across Eric, and have Dean get all glamored.