PixCT: 07-03
Jul. 3rd, 2008 03:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pixel_0It's that time again...
Fic:
Slash (Dean/Sam)
Adult
Preseries
~1190 words
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
September 07
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- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 07-03
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
Preseries
~1190 words
- - - - -
Pix's Pic Pick
They come to the farm after hours of driving, away from what became familiar for a few months. Sam uncurls himself from the car and Dean rubs sleep from his eyes. John sighs and looks pleased that they've come here to get away from it all, even though Sam knows well enough by now that there never really is any true getting away from it all. It all always catches up to them in the end.
Sam looks over to Dean, who smiles beneath the sun with the hills and their small plants behind him. Dean smiles and Sam smiles, and Sam thinks how Dean never knows how much he's loved. How much Sam loves him.
- - - - -
Over weeds, bigger than the baby sprouts emerging from the dirt, Sam glances at Dean, sneaks peeks between bangs in his eyes. "We should go exploring later," Dean says, pulling up the weeds in fistfuls. He's a bit careless, doesn't pay attention to the little ones that grow close to the valuable plants. He takes what's easiest, what's biggest and what he sees first. Sam's the one who follows after, plucking the weeds with precision. He's careful where Dean's not and pragmatic where Dean isn't.
"Exploring where?" Sam asks. Picks ragweed and pigweed away from the frail little carrot tops pushing their way through the soil.
"The woods. Haven't been back there yet. Dad won't notice if we go missing for a bit s'long as we get this done."
Sam pats the earth down, keeps the baby carrots snug in their beds, and says, "All right."
- - - - -
The strawberries ripen from white to red; fat, glossy berries stain their fingers when they pick and drop them into the plastic baskets. Sam lets his hand brush over Dean's, loves the way it sends a thrill down his spine every time. Dean doesn't notice, eats the berries with soft slurping noises and smacks his lips like they're the best he's ever had.
"You got to save some for the paying customers," Sam points out.
Dean shrugs. "We've been picking all day. Got more than enough." He smiles, slaps Sam on the shoulder. "I think a few berries can be spared for us." He stands, looking out over the endless clusters of berry bushes, small and round. Above Sam, Dean's framed by the afternoon sun, and Sam's heart skips a beat, finally realizes what he wants and who he wants and how he's never going to be happy until he has it.
Dean bends down, extends a hand to Sam. "Let's go grab some water."
Sam swallows. He accepts Dean's hand and rises to his feet with Dean's help. They stand together, hands linked, for a brief moment among the strawberries.
Sam's heart says, Yes.
- - - - -
The pea plants twist and turn their way up the metal stakes, vines all curled and tight, and white flowers giving way to plump pods. Dean eats more than his share, as usual, but Sam doesn't mind. He lets Dean crack open the crisp green pods and eat the peas, throwing his head back as he tosses them into his mouth.
"C'mon, Sammy," Dean says, "how many buckets we got?"
"Lots," Sam replies, sighs, looks at the trail of five gallon pails behind them.
"Take a load off, then. Life's too short to work so hard." He holds out an opened pod to Sam. "Here. I'll pick while you rest for a bit. Go ahead. I won't tell."
Sam accepts, picks up the pod, and he lets his hand linger a bit longer than necessary against Dean's. Dean, if he notices, says nothing. He only grins, ruffles Sam's hair, and goes back to work, leaving Sam to eat the small, sweet peas in silence.
- - - - -
They slip away into the corn to check on the scarecrow. The corn's just slightly taller than Sam and he's just slightly taller than Dean now. Green leaves slap at their arms and tassels dance in the warm summer wind. Not yet ready for harvest, the ears of corn are infant and small.
"You okay?" Dean asks, leading the way through the rows. "Been awful quiet lately."
"'M okay," Sam answers, watches the way Dean's back moves under his t-shirt as he walks. "Just thinking."
"About?"
"Stuff."
"Stuff?" Dean echoes. He stops, turns and meets Sam's eyes.
Sam swallows. Decides later it's the summer sun melting his rational brain when he leans forward and kisses Dean. Light, dry, barely even there, but enough to be a statement of something nonetheless.
"That stuff," Sam whispers when he's pulled away.
"Oh," Dean breathes. "Oh. Well. I like that kind of stuff then."
- - - - -
Tomatoes they pile in big wicker baskets, and they take only the red fruit, leave the green for another day. Sam interrupts Dean, kisses the back of his neck, distracts him from where Dean's glaring at a hungry tomato worm. They fall back together, tumble between the plants, and Dean grins, says, "You want something?"
Sam reaches for Dean's hand, presses it against his crotch, against his cock hot through his jeans. He watches the way that Dean's eyes widen and realize, and Sam says, "Yeah."
Sam comes with Dean's mouth on his neck and the bittersweet smell of tomato around him.
Later, much later, he'll be in California and a blonde haired girl will bring home a sack of tomatoes from the farmer's market, and he'll kiss her in the kitchen, remembering this moment now in the field and wishing she was someone else.
- - - - -
Pumpkins and gourds ripen and turn, beautiful oranges and brilliant yellows. Sam lifts the wheelbarrow so Dean can pile the pumpkins high. "I think we should make a jack o'lantern this year," Dean says, hefting another large pumpkin up.
"You really think Dad will let us? You know how he feels about Halloween."
Dean frowns. "Maybe we can hide it? Make it our own."
Sam smiles. "Yeah. I kinda like that idea."
Coming forward, Dean wraps his hands around Sam's face, pulls him close and kisses him light. "Good," he whispers. The evening autumn air is chilly on the back of Sam's neck, but Dean's kisses warm him down to his toes.
- - - - -
The leaves change and winter comes, and the snow turns all the yellows and oranges, greens and reds, to a shimmering white. They climb into bed together while Dad sleeps away downstairs on the couch. Dean pulls the covers over their heads and Sam pulls their bodies together underneath their clothes. Naked skin against naked skin makes Sam gasp and sigh, and Dean whispers, "When did it start?"
Sam looks up, meets his brother's eyes, and says, "What? When did what start?"
"This. You and me. When did you know that it was...was going to be...different?"
Sam smiles, thinks of the summer harvest, thinks of sweet fruit and vegetables, picked fresh from the earth, and says, "Strawberries. It started with strawberries."
End
Fic:
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
- - - - -
Today
Pix's Pic Pick
They come to the farm after hours of driving, away from what became familiar for a few months. Sam uncurls himself from the car and Dean rubs sleep from his eyes. John sighs and looks pleased that they've come here to get away from it all, even though Sam knows well enough by now that there never really is any true getting away from it all. It all always catches up to them in the end.
Sam looks over to Dean, who smiles beneath the sun with the hills and their small plants behind him. Dean smiles and Sam smiles, and Sam thinks how Dean never knows how much he's loved. How much Sam loves him.
Over weeds, bigger than the baby sprouts emerging from the dirt, Sam glances at Dean, sneaks peeks between bangs in his eyes. "We should go exploring later," Dean says, pulling up the weeds in fistfuls. He's a bit careless, doesn't pay attention to the little ones that grow close to the valuable plants. He takes what's easiest, what's biggest and what he sees first. Sam's the one who follows after, plucking the weeds with precision. He's careful where Dean's not and pragmatic where Dean isn't.
"Exploring where?" Sam asks. Picks ragweed and pigweed away from the frail little carrot tops pushing their way through the soil.
"The woods. Haven't been back there yet. Dad won't notice if we go missing for a bit s'long as we get this done."
Sam pats the earth down, keeps the baby carrots snug in their beds, and says, "All right."
The strawberries ripen from white to red; fat, glossy berries stain their fingers when they pick and drop them into the plastic baskets. Sam lets his hand brush over Dean's, loves the way it sends a thrill down his spine every time. Dean doesn't notice, eats the berries with soft slurping noises and smacks his lips like they're the best he's ever had.
"You got to save some for the paying customers," Sam points out.
Dean shrugs. "We've been picking all day. Got more than enough." He smiles, slaps Sam on the shoulder. "I think a few berries can be spared for us." He stands, looking out over the endless clusters of berry bushes, small and round. Above Sam, Dean's framed by the afternoon sun, and Sam's heart skips a beat, finally realizes what he wants and who he wants and how he's never going to be happy until he has it.
Dean bends down, extends a hand to Sam. "Let's go grab some water."
Sam swallows. He accepts Dean's hand and rises to his feet with Dean's help. They stand together, hands linked, for a brief moment among the strawberries.
Sam's heart says, Yes.
The pea plants twist and turn their way up the metal stakes, vines all curled and tight, and white flowers giving way to plump pods. Dean eats more than his share, as usual, but Sam doesn't mind. He lets Dean crack open the crisp green pods and eat the peas, throwing his head back as he tosses them into his mouth.
"C'mon, Sammy," Dean says, "how many buckets we got?"
"Lots," Sam replies, sighs, looks at the trail of five gallon pails behind them.
"Take a load off, then. Life's too short to work so hard." He holds out an opened pod to Sam. "Here. I'll pick while you rest for a bit. Go ahead. I won't tell."
Sam accepts, picks up the pod, and he lets his hand linger a bit longer than necessary against Dean's. Dean, if he notices, says nothing. He only grins, ruffles Sam's hair, and goes back to work, leaving Sam to eat the small, sweet peas in silence.
They slip away into the corn to check on the scarecrow. The corn's just slightly taller than Sam and he's just slightly taller than Dean now. Green leaves slap at their arms and tassels dance in the warm summer wind. Not yet ready for harvest, the ears of corn are infant and small.
"You okay?" Dean asks, leading the way through the rows. "Been awful quiet lately."
"'M okay," Sam answers, watches the way Dean's back moves under his t-shirt as he walks. "Just thinking."
"About?"
"Stuff."
"Stuff?" Dean echoes. He stops, turns and meets Sam's eyes.
Sam swallows. Decides later it's the summer sun melting his rational brain when he leans forward and kisses Dean. Light, dry, barely even there, but enough to be a statement of something nonetheless.
"That stuff," Sam whispers when he's pulled away.
"Oh," Dean breathes. "Oh. Well. I like that kind of stuff then."
Tomatoes they pile in big wicker baskets, and they take only the red fruit, leave the green for another day. Sam interrupts Dean, kisses the back of his neck, distracts him from where Dean's glaring at a hungry tomato worm. They fall back together, tumble between the plants, and Dean grins, says, "You want something?"
Sam reaches for Dean's hand, presses it against his crotch, against his cock hot through his jeans. He watches the way that Dean's eyes widen and realize, and Sam says, "Yeah."
Sam comes with Dean's mouth on his neck and the bittersweet smell of tomato around him.
Later, much later, he'll be in California and a blonde haired girl will bring home a sack of tomatoes from the farmer's market, and he'll kiss her in the kitchen, remembering this moment now in the field and wishing she was someone else.
Pumpkins and gourds ripen and turn, beautiful oranges and brilliant yellows. Sam lifts the wheelbarrow so Dean can pile the pumpkins high. "I think we should make a jack o'lantern this year," Dean says, hefting another large pumpkin up.
"You really think Dad will let us? You know how he feels about Halloween."
Dean frowns. "Maybe we can hide it? Make it our own."
Sam smiles. "Yeah. I kinda like that idea."
Coming forward, Dean wraps his hands around Sam's face, pulls him close and kisses him light. "Good," he whispers. The evening autumn air is chilly on the back of Sam's neck, but Dean's kisses warm him down to his toes.
The leaves change and winter comes, and the snow turns all the yellows and oranges, greens and reds, to a shimmering white. They climb into bed together while Dad sleeps away downstairs on the couch. Dean pulls the covers over their heads and Sam pulls their bodies together underneath their clothes. Naked skin against naked skin makes Sam gasp and sigh, and Dean whispers, "When did it start?"
Sam looks up, meets his brother's eyes, and says, "What? When did what start?"
"This. You and me. When did you know that it was...was going to be...different?"
Sam smiles, thinks of the summer harvest, thinks of sweet fruit and vegetables, picked fresh from the earth, and says, "Strawberries. It started with strawberries."
End
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no subject
Date: 2008-07-11 12:07 am (UTC)♥