Fic post: SpN
4/20/07 11:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roxyfic post:SpN
Title:Lately
Fandom:SpN
Pairing:ha! likeyoudonknow....
Rating:2
Summary: This is mkitty_03's PWP, 'cause I lub her.
Winter. Spring. Summer. Fall.
California. Washington. Idaho.
Away. Moving all the time. Moving like—fuck not even like gypsies, they were staggering in circles around the country, pointless, killing and killing and killing…Dad was looking for the Holy Grail. Or Death, or Lucifer--or fuck, maybe the perfect burger, what the fuck.
They drove through Nevada hot…dry…kind of fugly.
Tires whirring over the road, cars flashing past them, hot dry air whistling in the open windows. Dad pointing out mountains, and Sam sitting back, arms crossed, eyes squinched... “They’re brown.”
Why couldn’t Sam even try to play the game? What the fuck would it hurt him to make Dad happy?
Okay, so Dad had to be gone a lot and when he wasn’t gone he sometimes he got…drunk. A little. Not a little drunk, he meant it happened not that often. Even so, Dad wasn’t ever—out of it—never that.
Just sometimes, a little, a little harsh. He didn’t mean it, he never did—but Dad had all kinds of memories lurking after him. Of hunts. And of—of Mom. The service…shit happened. Happens. And sometimes you can’t sink those memories. Sometimes they float back to the top.
He did what Dad told him, though—he protected Sammy. If it meant taking him out for a coke, or even sleeping in the back seat of the car, all good.
He explained it, as much as he could. Dad didn’t mean it, he didn’t want to be like that .It was just an accident, and it didn’t happen that much anyway. And when it did, Dad was always awfully sorry. “You know he loves you.”
So. Sometimes they slept in the car. No sweat.
‘Course, he bitched and bitched, because no fuckin’ way would he admit how much he. He liked it. Sleeping in the car with Sam. Close to Sam.
Sitting up all night long, cause there’d long been no room for the both of them to stretch out. Sitting up side by side, Sam with his head tilted back, ridiculously long legs folded up—and asleep in instants, fucker. All the time, Sam’s the first to sleep and he—he gets to stay awake and watch him…yay. Fuckin’ yay.
Carefully sitting upright and painfully hard, and Sammy, he drools and snores and wraps his arms around him, climbs him like a monkey and drools in his neck, and shoves a hand between his legs and sometimes presses hard against him God. T-shirts wet with sweat, skin sticking to the seats, jeans wet behind the knees and the waistband and in the crease of their hips and wherever they touched.
Mornings break the heat, it’s cooler, comfortable, and then finally he can ease into sleep. The cooler air always makes Sam drive his nose into any warm spot…neck, cheek, ear…God.
******
Dad’s gone. The TV’s off, Sam’s got a local newspaper from somewhere, and a piece of the hotel ‘stationary’, a chewed up pencil in his hand. Brows kinked, the tip of a pointed pink tongue peeked out every once in a while to swipe along his upper lip.
The whole bed’s full of Sam. His head’s against the wall, his long brown legs hang over the side of the bed; his bare feet are on the floor, scuffing up the cheap thin mat masquerading as a rug.
God damn, he realizes, Sammy grew. He’s grown.
He grew so much.
What puppy fat he had is gone, and thin’s been over laid with muscle. He’s harder than when they were in Jersey. He pictured hard muscle under his hand, over him pushing into him…
Stop looking, mother fucker, stop thinking...
The worst part? He knows, he knows if he says the word, he could have him. Have it. All.
He only has to say yes.
“Dean?”
*wasn’t looking at you--* “Hunh? I mean—what? Ye--”…swallowed hard. “Yes?”
“You think….Dad will let us stay put for a while?”
“Sam. I can’t predict what Dad will want to do.”
Just that quick, Sam starts to shut down and he grabs to keep him from going farther away. “Let me talk to him, okay?”
Sam nods.
He argued with Dad. Dad wanted to keep moving so he spun it like a motherfucker--a base, for a while, they needed a base—a safe place to plan and organize hunting trips. They were all tired of wandering across the country, right? They needed a break. “Just a few months…maybe…a year. A year, Dad. Catch our breaths.
Please.”
He’s wiped out after, wrung dry. He hates begging…
Trying to sleep, pretending the air conditioner hacking its guts out in the window is at least cooling some air as it dies. He feels the mattress sink. The sheets are so lousy that when Sam slides across them, they sound like paper crumbling.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“Sam, get back in your bed. Please.”
“Are you sure? I can stay…” Hot breath, so close it feels damp. So close Sam’s lips are teasing the shell of his ear.
*no fuck no, of course I’m not sure—I wanna fuck you touch you all over lick every inch of you* “I’m sure. Go.”
There are sixty fucking tiles on the ceiling right over his bed. Maybe…they’re made of asbestos, and maybe if he’s really fucking lucky, they’ll flake all over him and fill his lungs and he’ll be dead by morning….holding his breath hadn’t helped….
******
Floating in a pool full of lukewarm chlorine, letting the sun spin pinwheels in red and orange on the inside of his eyelids….keeping his thoughts trained on float, float…nothing but that, and ignore the feel of water lapping at his ribs like a little tongue…
Drifting and thinking… floating out here was a treat. Sam was long old enough to take care of himself…okay, so he was listening with every cell trained on their room, and wishing he had that x-ray vision so he could make sure Sam was okay, and maybe now he should get out of the water…
“Dean.”
*Getting out now.*
“What?” He stroked for the pool side, to Sam sitting at the edge now. Waiting for him.
“Nothing. Just wondering when you were coming in. I’m hungry.” Sam makes a face, and kicks the water—
“You can’t feed yourself?” Sam makes a noise, disgust, exasperation, he laughs and drops his chin on Sam’s knee and lets go, floating in the water—the only thing holding him up is his brother’s knee, the only thing keeping him from floating away…sinking…
“I can, but I like it better when you do it.”
“Sammy, Sammy—you know I can’t follow you around your whole life, cooking and cleaning for you…besides, being a bitch is your role.” Supposed to be a joke, but Sam looks away again with that odd little twist to his mouth. So fucking bitter, so…so hard…it’s not fucking fair, but that’s a thought he shoved down deep—along with all the other fucking baggage, shit….“Okay, what the fuck do you want for lunch, Sammy?”
“Nothing, never mind, I’m not hungry…”
“Hey…hey…” he risks touching Sam’s knee with his hand too, the taut brown skin is hot, sun hot, and it feels like it’s burning under his cold fingers. “You know I’m kidding right?” *Fuckin’ hell, don’t make me say it.* “Seriously, what do you want and don’t say PB and J, so help me…”
The ghost echo of lust makes his cock move…Sammy laughs, and splashes him, pushes him off and down into the water. He pops up to the surface again a few feet away, grinning, but Sam’s already jumped to his feet, running barefoot across the hot concrete.
tbc
Title:Lately
Fandom:SpN
Pairing:ha! likeyoudonknow....
Rating:2
Summary: This is mkitty_03's PWP, 'cause I lub her.
Winter. Spring. Summer. Fall.
California. Washington. Idaho.
Away. Moving all the time. Moving like—fuck not even like gypsies, they were staggering in circles around the country, pointless, killing and killing and killing…Dad was looking for the Holy Grail. Or Death, or Lucifer--or fuck, maybe the perfect burger, what the fuck.
They drove through Nevada hot…dry…kind of fugly.
Tires whirring over the road, cars flashing past them, hot dry air whistling in the open windows. Dad pointing out mountains, and Sam sitting back, arms crossed, eyes squinched... “They’re brown.”
Why couldn’t Sam even try to play the game? What the fuck would it hurt him to make Dad happy?
Okay, so Dad had to be gone a lot and when he wasn’t gone he sometimes he got…drunk. A little. Not a little drunk, he meant it happened not that often. Even so, Dad wasn’t ever—out of it—never that.
Just sometimes, a little, a little harsh. He didn’t mean it, he never did—but Dad had all kinds of memories lurking after him. Of hunts. And of—of Mom. The service…shit happened. Happens. And sometimes you can’t sink those memories. Sometimes they float back to the top.
He did what Dad told him, though—he protected Sammy. If it meant taking him out for a coke, or even sleeping in the back seat of the car, all good.
He explained it, as much as he could. Dad didn’t mean it, he didn’t want to be like that .It was just an accident, and it didn’t happen that much anyway. And when it did, Dad was always awfully sorry. “You know he loves you.”
So. Sometimes they slept in the car. No sweat.
‘Course, he bitched and bitched, because no fuckin’ way would he admit how much he. He liked it. Sleeping in the car with Sam. Close to Sam.
Sitting up all night long, cause there’d long been no room for the both of them to stretch out. Sitting up side by side, Sam with his head tilted back, ridiculously long legs folded up—and asleep in instants, fucker. All the time, Sam’s the first to sleep and he—he gets to stay awake and watch him…yay. Fuckin’ yay.
Carefully sitting upright and painfully hard, and Sammy, he drools and snores and wraps his arms around him, climbs him like a monkey and drools in his neck, and shoves a hand between his legs and sometimes presses hard against him God. T-shirts wet with sweat, skin sticking to the seats, jeans wet behind the knees and the waistband and in the crease of their hips and wherever they touched.
Mornings break the heat, it’s cooler, comfortable, and then finally he can ease into sleep. The cooler air always makes Sam drive his nose into any warm spot…neck, cheek, ear…God.
******
Dad’s gone. The TV’s off, Sam’s got a local newspaper from somewhere, and a piece of the hotel ‘stationary’, a chewed up pencil in his hand. Brows kinked, the tip of a pointed pink tongue peeked out every once in a while to swipe along his upper lip.
The whole bed’s full of Sam. His head’s against the wall, his long brown legs hang over the side of the bed; his bare feet are on the floor, scuffing up the cheap thin mat masquerading as a rug.
God damn, he realizes, Sammy grew. He’s grown.
He grew so much.
What puppy fat he had is gone, and thin’s been over laid with muscle. He’s harder than when they were in Jersey. He pictured hard muscle under his hand, over him pushing into him…
Stop looking, mother fucker, stop thinking...
The worst part? He knows, he knows if he says the word, he could have him. Have it. All.
He only has to say yes.
“Dean?”
*wasn’t looking at you--* “Hunh? I mean—what? Ye--”…swallowed hard. “Yes?”
“You think….Dad will let us stay put for a while?”
“Sam. I can’t predict what Dad will want to do.”
Just that quick, Sam starts to shut down and he grabs to keep him from going farther away. “Let me talk to him, okay?”
Sam nods.
He argued with Dad. Dad wanted to keep moving so he spun it like a motherfucker--a base, for a while, they needed a base—a safe place to plan and organize hunting trips. They were all tired of wandering across the country, right? They needed a break. “Just a few months…maybe…a year. A year, Dad. Catch our breaths.
Please.”
He’s wiped out after, wrung dry. He hates begging…
Trying to sleep, pretending the air conditioner hacking its guts out in the window is at least cooling some air as it dies. He feels the mattress sink. The sheets are so lousy that when Sam slides across them, they sound like paper crumbling.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“Sam, get back in your bed. Please.”
“Are you sure? I can stay…” Hot breath, so close it feels damp. So close Sam’s lips are teasing the shell of his ear.
*no fuck no, of course I’m not sure—I wanna fuck you touch you all over lick every inch of you* “I’m sure. Go.”
There are sixty fucking tiles on the ceiling right over his bed. Maybe…they’re made of asbestos, and maybe if he’s really fucking lucky, they’ll flake all over him and fill his lungs and he’ll be dead by morning….holding his breath hadn’t helped….
******
Floating in a pool full of lukewarm chlorine, letting the sun spin pinwheels in red and orange on the inside of his eyelids….keeping his thoughts trained on float, float…nothing but that, and ignore the feel of water lapping at his ribs like a little tongue…
Drifting and thinking… floating out here was a treat. Sam was long old enough to take care of himself…okay, so he was listening with every cell trained on their room, and wishing he had that x-ray vision so he could make sure Sam was okay, and maybe now he should get out of the water…
“Dean.”
*Getting out now.*
“What?” He stroked for the pool side, to Sam sitting at the edge now. Waiting for him.
“Nothing. Just wondering when you were coming in. I’m hungry.” Sam makes a face, and kicks the water—
“You can’t feed yourself?” Sam makes a noise, disgust, exasperation, he laughs and drops his chin on Sam’s knee and lets go, floating in the water—the only thing holding him up is his brother’s knee, the only thing keeping him from floating away…sinking…
“I can, but I like it better when you do it.”
“Sammy, Sammy—you know I can’t follow you around your whole life, cooking and cleaning for you…besides, being a bitch is your role.” Supposed to be a joke, but Sam looks away again with that odd little twist to his mouth. So fucking bitter, so…so hard…it’s not fucking fair, but that’s a thought he shoved down deep—along with all the other fucking baggage, shit….“Okay, what the fuck do you want for lunch, Sammy?”
“Nothing, never mind, I’m not hungry…”
“Hey…hey…” he risks touching Sam’s knee with his hand too, the taut brown skin is hot, sun hot, and it feels like it’s burning under his cold fingers. “You know I’m kidding right?” *Fuckin’ hell, don’t make me say it.* “Seriously, what do you want and don’t say PB and J, so help me…”
The ghost echo of lust makes his cock move…Sammy laughs, and splashes him, pushes him off and down into the water. He pops up to the surface again a few feet away, grinning, but Sam’s already jumped to his feet, running barefoot across the hot concrete.
tbc
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(no subject)
4/21/07 03:39 am (UTC)LOVE how you described them sleeping in the car *awwww*
The worst part? He knows, he knows if he says the word, he could have him. Have it. All.
OH DEAN!! *cries* Let Sammy fix you.
Really love how you portrayed how Dean was thinking, and the dialogue was excellant!!
*wasn’t looking at you--* “Hunh? I mean—what? Ye--”…swallowed hard. “Yes?”
*giggles*
(no subject)
4/21/07 04:03 am (UTC)and you picked my favorite line--*giggles with you*
(no subject)
4/21/07 04:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/21/07 06:16 pm (UTC)He's definitely not voluntarily giving his kids up, at least, he doesn't think of it that way. He's fighting a war as far as he's concerned. I'm not too crazy about stories that depict him as a raving asshole--I don't think he is. I mean, he's kind of a jerk, but not a bad guy. hah! I'm full of praise for him! *G*
(no subject)
4/21/07 07:46 pm (UTC)I really, really do.
(no subject)
4/22/07 04:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
4/22/07 07:30 am (UTC)You are writing these boys and capturing their characters so beautifully.
Poor Dean is gonna crack any day now.
(no subject)
4/22/07 03:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/23/07 01:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
4/27/07 04:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
4/27/07 04:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
4/27/07 03:31 am (UTC)(no subject)
4/27/07 04:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
4/27/07 04:35 am (UTC)(no subject)
4/27/07 04:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
4/27/07 07:33 am (UTC)HAY. I READ THE COMMENTS AND THERE ARE OTHER PARTS?!!? *hunts CRAZY fast for them!*
I love this. I think I'll marry it, and THEN have it's babies.
...Saavy?
(no subject)
4/29/07 12:14 am (UTC)Thank you so much, thanks for reading!
(no subject)
4/27/07 10:36 am (UTC)And Dean's perception of his father's drinking, his insight into it, maybe even his almost wilful blindness to what it's doing, in the end... all come through so well. I've read few scenes that capture that much of a moment so consisely, so perfectly.
(no subject)
4/29/07 12:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
4/27/07 05:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
4/29/07 12:25 am (UTC)