"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.
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Sam/Dean, watching True Blood
Date: 2009-07-31 01:30 am (UTC)*
"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.