PixCT: 12.04
Dec. 4th, 2008 03:41 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
~1520 words
- - - - -
A combination of fic, pic, and cock, and that's really all there is to it.
All About Cock Thursday
So Far
Sept 07 - Sept 08
Sept/Oct 08
Nov 08
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 12.04
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
Preseries
~1520 words
- - - - -
Dru's Pic Pick
"I'm running away," Sam announced as Dean was eating breakfast.
Dean looked up from the car magazine he had swiped from the library. The magazine was two weeks overdue, and they were six hundred miles away. He decided that if they ever passed through that little town again, he'd be sure to return it. Until then, he'd enjoy it guilt-free. "Running away?" Dean asked, swallowing down a spoonful of soggy oat o’s.
"Nobody here understands me. I hate school. I can’t make friends because we move around all the time. I'm tired of Dad telling me what to do, where to go, all that. I hate being a teenager!" Sam waved his hand much too zealously for a fourteen year old boy. His backpack strap slid off his shoulder with the movement, and he faltered, catching the pack before it fell to the floor.
Dean leaned back in his chair, ignoring the magazine and the cereal soaking up the milk. Focused his attention instead on Sam's scrunched face of irritation. "You got food?"
"Yeah."
"Enough to get by? Could be a while until you can find another grocery store."
"For a few days. I grabbed a knife, too. I can always hunt and eat something...like cook for myself?"
Dean nodded, kept his face impassive. "Got some warmer clothes? Mittens and stuff? The nights get cold around here. You don't want to be getting frostbite and ruining your fingers. Won’t be able to use that knife of yours."
"Yeah. I've got a blanket, too. I even packed one of those old plastic tarps of Caleb's. That way I can sleep on the ground at night and not get wet."
Dean frowned and nodded. "Well, it sounds like you're ready to go then." He stood up and slapped Sam warmly on the shoulder. "You going to write to me? You better."
"Yeah. I'll call your cell from a payphone. I brought a bunch of quarters.” For emphasis, Sam patted his front pocket, which jingled with the weight of the extra change. “Just don't let Dad know."
"No way," Dean replied, shaking his head. "Promise I won't say anything."
Sam nodded. "All right, then, well, I'll see you later."
"Take care of yourself, Sammy."
"You too," he said, opened the door and out he went.
Dean walked to the window above the kitchen sink, watched Sam walk away, growing smaller as he tromped over the thick layer of autumn leaves and into the cluster of trees on the hill. He finished his cereal, washed and rinsed the bowl, and dried it with the towel hanging from the refrigerator door handle. Sam was smaller now, but still visible in the distance, and Dean smiled and shook his head. Crazy kid.
He grabbed his auto magazine and hopped onto the countertop so he could keep his view out the kitchen window. Every few pages, he'd glance up, check to make sure Sam's coat was still bobbing through the tightly laced trees and return to his reading. Once he was done with his magazine and Sam had completely disappeared into the forest, Dean sighed and hopped off the countertop. He grabbed a flashlight and his coat from the hook by the doorway.
Halfway out the door, he paused, remembering, and turned around to scribble a quick note to Dad. Made up something about going exploring with Sammy. They were all right, don't worry, be back by dark, promise. He placed the note by the coffee maker--first place Dad would go when he came home--and then went back outside.
He found Sam where he thought he would: tucked underneath the teepee of tree roots. Sam had laid the tarp on the ground as he'd said and covered himself with an old faded blanket, his head resting on his backpack. He was sleeping, even though it was only late in the afternoon. He'd been tired lately--too much schoolwork and Dad dragging them from one place to another without a break. Poor kid was just stressed. Needed a break out of the house and away from reality.
Dean smiled and, bending down, he rapped his knuckles on the mossy outside of the tree. "Knock, knock," he called.
Sam stirred and rubbed at his eyes. "Dean?" he murmured. "What...what are you doing here?"
"Thought you could use some company on your little trip." He paused, looking around the little area Sam had made for himself. "Can I come in?"
Sam shrugged indifferently. "If you want," he replied, sitting up and pulling the blanket so Dean could plop down beside him. The plastic of the tarp crackled when Dean sat, much like the crackle of the faded brown leaves outside their little tree teepee.
"How'd you find me?" Sam asked.
"Just a good guess," Dean replied, deciding not to reveal that this was the spot he came when they first moved here a few weeks ago. Had ran outside after Sammy was asleep and Dad was dozing on the couch with the TV still on. All anger and frustration welling up inside him and he had ran out here to curl beneath this tree's protection just to clear his head in solitude.
They sat in silence for a while until Sam offered Dean one of his granola bars. "Want one? I packed bunches."
Dean accepted, of course, and they ate their bars quietly, looking out through their little hideaway at the sparse greenery and the endless brown plants.
"Hey, Sammy?" Dean said after a long moment.
"Hm?"
"I will miss something if you leave."
"What's that?"
Dean leaned over, kissed Sammy, quick and light, and pulled back. "Going to miss that."
Sam shrugged, eyes downcast. "You'll find somebody else." Stubborn little bugger, Dean thought. Guess the adolescent stress was wearing on him harder than Dean'd assumed.
"You think?" Dean asked. He bent down, gave another kiss, longer this time. Long enough for Sam's hand to curl into a loose fist where it rested in his lap.
"Well..." Sam answered then. "I mean...the girls at school do like you a lot..."
Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. "They're just girls, Sam." He leaned in for a kiss again, longer, deeper still. He opened up his mouth for this one until Sammy gave in and lifted his hands up to rest on the sides of Dean's face.
"You mean it?" Sam asked, a bit breathless when Dean stopped.
"I mean it. Just girls. Not like you and me."
Another kiss. This one strong enough for them to tumble down together, plastic tarp crinkling beneath them as Sammy came to fall on top. Their legs twisted together in the blanket, getting caught, but neither cared enough to notice.
"Being a teenager sucks," Sam admitted.
Dean pursed his lips, pretended to think about this for a moment. "Yeah, it really does. But," he said, placing a hand at the small of Sam's back and pulling him in closer, "it gets better."
"Yeah?" Sam asked. He leaned down eagerly into Dean. He was straddling Dean's waist, rocking slowly back and forth, with one hand resting on Dean's chest. The change in his front pocket jingled with every small thrust.
"Oh yeah."
That was all Sam needed, Dean knew. That little bit of reassurance, and Sam finally gave into the kisses fully, groaning in the back of his throat when Dean threaded fingers through his hair. He slipped a hand down between them, cupped Sam's cock pressing hard against his zipper, and squeezed gently, just enough for Sam to inhale and whisper, "Dean..."
With that one hand, Dean unbuttoned Sam's jeans, slipped his hand inside, and wrapped his fingers around Sam's cock. Gently, he gave a few slow, long strokes, and that was all it took for Sam to come, shuddering in Dean's arms. He gasped, breath warm against Dean's cheek, and when his breathing finally evened out, he pulled back and said, "It...it's getting dark, don't you think?"
Dean looked up, craning his neck to see out of the tree, and said, "Yeah, I guess you're right."
"You think Dad'll be worried?"
"Might be."
"Maybe we should head back...?"
"Well, what about your big plans?" Dean asked as he handed Sam a handkerchief to clean himself up. Damned thing was covered with oil and smelled of gasoline from the shop. A little bit of spunk wouldn't hurt it.
Sam frowned, looking up from where he was wiping off his belly, and said, "Maybe...maybe I should give it a shot tomorrow? Head out bright and early? You don't have to work tomorrow so, maybe you could come with me?"
"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan."
They packed up their things, and Dean helped Sam roll the tarp back into a tight little roll so it could fit in the backpack again. When everything was put away, they started the long walk back to the house. Next to him, Sam smiled and laughed at Dean's stupid jokes, and that right there, the sound of Sam at ease, was all Dean needed to hear to know that the day had a happy ending to it.
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
Dru's Pic Pick
"I'm running away," Sam announced as Dean was eating breakfast.
Dean looked up from the car magazine he had swiped from the library. The magazine was two weeks overdue, and they were six hundred miles away. He decided that if they ever passed through that little town again, he'd be sure to return it. Until then, he'd enjoy it guilt-free. "Running away?" Dean asked, swallowing down a spoonful of soggy oat o’s.
"Nobody here understands me. I hate school. I can’t make friends because we move around all the time. I'm tired of Dad telling me what to do, where to go, all that. I hate being a teenager!" Sam waved his hand much too zealously for a fourteen year old boy. His backpack strap slid off his shoulder with the movement, and he faltered, catching the pack before it fell to the floor.
Dean leaned back in his chair, ignoring the magazine and the cereal soaking up the milk. Focused his attention instead on Sam's scrunched face of irritation. "You got food?"
"Yeah."
"Enough to get by? Could be a while until you can find another grocery store."
"For a few days. I grabbed a knife, too. I can always hunt and eat something...like cook for myself?"
Dean nodded, kept his face impassive. "Got some warmer clothes? Mittens and stuff? The nights get cold around here. You don't want to be getting frostbite and ruining your fingers. Won’t be able to use that knife of yours."
"Yeah. I've got a blanket, too. I even packed one of those old plastic tarps of Caleb's. That way I can sleep on the ground at night and not get wet."
Dean frowned and nodded. "Well, it sounds like you're ready to go then." He stood up and slapped Sam warmly on the shoulder. "You going to write to me? You better."
"Yeah. I'll call your cell from a payphone. I brought a bunch of quarters.” For emphasis, Sam patted his front pocket, which jingled with the weight of the extra change. “Just don't let Dad know."
"No way," Dean replied, shaking his head. "Promise I won't say anything."
Sam nodded. "All right, then, well, I'll see you later."
"Take care of yourself, Sammy."
"You too," he said, opened the door and out he went.
Dean walked to the window above the kitchen sink, watched Sam walk away, growing smaller as he tromped over the thick layer of autumn leaves and into the cluster of trees on the hill. He finished his cereal, washed and rinsed the bowl, and dried it with the towel hanging from the refrigerator door handle. Sam was smaller now, but still visible in the distance, and Dean smiled and shook his head. Crazy kid.
He grabbed his auto magazine and hopped onto the countertop so he could keep his view out the kitchen window. Every few pages, he'd glance up, check to make sure Sam's coat was still bobbing through the tightly laced trees and return to his reading. Once he was done with his magazine and Sam had completely disappeared into the forest, Dean sighed and hopped off the countertop. He grabbed a flashlight and his coat from the hook by the doorway.
Halfway out the door, he paused, remembering, and turned around to scribble a quick note to Dad. Made up something about going exploring with Sammy. They were all right, don't worry, be back by dark, promise. He placed the note by the coffee maker--first place Dad would go when he came home--and then went back outside.
He found Sam where he thought he would: tucked underneath the teepee of tree roots. Sam had laid the tarp on the ground as he'd said and covered himself with an old faded blanket, his head resting on his backpack. He was sleeping, even though it was only late in the afternoon. He'd been tired lately--too much schoolwork and Dad dragging them from one place to another without a break. Poor kid was just stressed. Needed a break out of the house and away from reality.
Dean smiled and, bending down, he rapped his knuckles on the mossy outside of the tree. "Knock, knock," he called.
Sam stirred and rubbed at his eyes. "Dean?" he murmured. "What...what are you doing here?"
"Thought you could use some company on your little trip." He paused, looking around the little area Sam had made for himself. "Can I come in?"
Sam shrugged indifferently. "If you want," he replied, sitting up and pulling the blanket so Dean could plop down beside him. The plastic of the tarp crackled when Dean sat, much like the crackle of the faded brown leaves outside their little tree teepee.
"How'd you find me?" Sam asked.
"Just a good guess," Dean replied, deciding not to reveal that this was the spot he came when they first moved here a few weeks ago. Had ran outside after Sammy was asleep and Dad was dozing on the couch with the TV still on. All anger and frustration welling up inside him and he had ran out here to curl beneath this tree's protection just to clear his head in solitude.
They sat in silence for a while until Sam offered Dean one of his granola bars. "Want one? I packed bunches."
Dean accepted, of course, and they ate their bars quietly, looking out through their little hideaway at the sparse greenery and the endless brown plants.
"Hey, Sammy?" Dean said after a long moment.
"Hm?"
"I will miss something if you leave."
"What's that?"
Dean leaned over, kissed Sammy, quick and light, and pulled back. "Going to miss that."
Sam shrugged, eyes downcast. "You'll find somebody else." Stubborn little bugger, Dean thought. Guess the adolescent stress was wearing on him harder than Dean'd assumed.
"You think?" Dean asked. He bent down, gave another kiss, longer this time. Long enough for Sam's hand to curl into a loose fist where it rested in his lap.
"Well..." Sam answered then. "I mean...the girls at school do like you a lot..."
Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. "They're just girls, Sam." He leaned in for a kiss again, longer, deeper still. He opened up his mouth for this one until Sammy gave in and lifted his hands up to rest on the sides of Dean's face.
"You mean it?" Sam asked, a bit breathless when Dean stopped.
"I mean it. Just girls. Not like you and me."
Another kiss. This one strong enough for them to tumble down together, plastic tarp crinkling beneath them as Sammy came to fall on top. Their legs twisted together in the blanket, getting caught, but neither cared enough to notice.
"Being a teenager sucks," Sam admitted.
Dean pursed his lips, pretended to think about this for a moment. "Yeah, it really does. But," he said, placing a hand at the small of Sam's back and pulling him in closer, "it gets better."
"Yeah?" Sam asked. He leaned down eagerly into Dean. He was straddling Dean's waist, rocking slowly back and forth, with one hand resting on Dean's chest. The change in his front pocket jingled with every small thrust.
"Oh yeah."
That was all Sam needed, Dean knew. That little bit of reassurance, and Sam finally gave into the kisses fully, groaning in the back of his throat when Dean threaded fingers through his hair. He slipped a hand down between them, cupped Sam's cock pressing hard against his zipper, and squeezed gently, just enough for Sam to inhale and whisper, "Dean..."
With that one hand, Dean unbuttoned Sam's jeans, slipped his hand inside, and wrapped his fingers around Sam's cock. Gently, he gave a few slow, long strokes, and that was all it took for Sam to come, shuddering in Dean's arms. He gasped, breath warm against Dean's cheek, and when his breathing finally evened out, he pulled back and said, "It...it's getting dark, don't you think?"
Dean looked up, craning his neck to see out of the tree, and said, "Yeah, I guess you're right."
"You think Dad'll be worried?"
"Might be."
"Maybe we should head back...?"
"Well, what about your big plans?" Dean asked as he handed Sam a handkerchief to clean himself up. Damned thing was covered with oil and smelled of gasoline from the shop. A little bit of spunk wouldn't hurt it.
Sam frowned, looking up from where he was wiping off his belly, and said, "Maybe...maybe I should give it a shot tomorrow? Head out bright and early? You don't have to work tomorrow so, maybe you could come with me?"
"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan."
They packed up their things, and Dean helped Sam roll the tarp back into a tight little roll so it could fit in the backpack again. When everything was put away, they started the long walk back to the house. Next to him, Sam smiled and laughed at Dean's stupid jokes, and that right there, the sound of Sam at ease, was all Dean needed to hear to know that the day had a happy ending to it.
End
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Date: 2008-12-05 05:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-07 01:54 am (UTC)