PixCT: 12.11
Dec. 11th, 2008 04:48 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
~1390 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
DruCT: 12.04
PixCT: 12.04
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 12.11
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
Preseries
~1390 words
- - - - -
Pix's Pic Pick
The area was bustling with children and their ice cream cones and parents and their cameras. Here at the park, the masses clustered towards the more exciting things—the loop-de-loop slide and the rainbow colored monkey bars. No one really paid much attention to the big, blue eye in the back of the park, tucked away behind some trees and curving sidewalks. No one, that was, except for Sam and Dean.
"I can't believe Dad sent us out here to check this out," Sam grumbled. He was seventeen years old that summer, perpetually grumpy and continually blinded by the hair in his eyes. He didn't argue much with Dad about the little things anymore, choosing instead of hit Dad at his most sensitive points, which only erupted into volatile arguments that Dean found himself stuck in the middle of one way or another.
"He didn't," Dean confessed after a beat, pushing aside a low-hanging tree branch so they could enter the cleared area where the eye was on a metal tube, staring straight at them.
"He didn't?"
"I…I thought we should."
"You?" Sam sputtered, and Dean tensed, waiting for an onslaught of arguments of how they could have stayed back in the motel room, how Sam could have been working—at a real job with a real income, as he was fond of pointing out lately—or how, simply, Dean was still Dad's little soldier, following one great hunt to another without thought.
"Look. Just," Dean said, raising his hand and stepping forward, "just drop it, okay? Give me your debate team arguments later. I think this is something we should see."
Much to his surprise—and gratitude—Sam didn't say anything farther. He came closer to stand beside Dean and look down into the hole that was at the bottom of the eye's pipe. "It's a periscope," Sam said after a moment of squinting into the hole.
"A what?"
"Periscope," Sam repeated, stepping back and standing up straight. "Like in submarines, y'know? Using mirrors to see in a different direction than where you're facing."
"Oh."
"You sound disappointed," Sam said. He looked confused. Dean would have thought Sam looked concerned as well, but given his petulant attitude in the recent months, that might have been wishful thinking.
"Eh," Dean said, trying to shrug it off. "Guess what I heard wasn't true."
"What did you hear?"
"Wasn't real, so it doesn't matter."
"Dean..."
"Here, just...just let me take a look. Maybe you're doing it wrong," Dean said as he approached the periscope. Sam moved out of the way so Dean could bend down and squint awkwardly into the dirty viewing hole at the base of the silver pipe. He didn't see anything for a moment, everything dark and fuzzy as he shifted and sputtered to get his eye aligned just so. Then, clearly, he was able to see the park behind them—the parents and children, ice cream and loop-de-loop slide.
No, no, this wasn't right. He had heard...
"Look, if you'd just tell me what's going on, maybe we can get this figured out," Sam was saying off to Dean's side. “Sure would be a lot faster with the both of us thinking together than you alone.” Dean resisted the urge to swat at him, knowing it would throw off his balance and ruin his sight alignment when Sam hit him back.
He reached up and slapped the top of the eye instead, and a hollow clanging sound reverberated through the metal, causing the little mirrors to vibrate slowly. As the mirrors shook, the scene began to fade, faded away from the children and their ice cream, no more rainbow monkey bars, and yes, yes, this was it right here.
The images faded, shifted, until Dean was seeing something different. A bedroom. Had to be one of a motel, given the layout of the small room with two adjacent queen beds and yellow paisley wallpaper. On a bed, the one closest to the door that Dean always took, Sam and he were lying on the golden blankets. They were mostly naked—Sam wearing only his boxers and Dean in unbuttoned blue jeans—and they were kissing, hot and desperate.
Heat flashed through Dean in the park as he watched the scene. He wasn't surprised, really; he and Sam had fooled around before—out of boredom, sometimes from being too buzzed after a hunt on the fury of adrenaline, sometimes just because he'd look at Sam and Sam'd look at him and, well, that was that. But, it wasn't a regular thing. And if it was, Dean certainly didn't want to think about it being so.
In this scene of yellow paisley wallpaper and mustard colored bedcovers, they were on the bed, curled into one another with hands down each other pants', and Dean wasn't stupid, knew exactly that hands were wrapped around cocks. Could tell by the way their wrists flexed and their hips twitched into the other, all tight and needy, like they couldn’t get enough. In the bedroom, Sam was saying something with his eyes closed, but Dean couldn't hear his words—could only see Sam's furrowed brow and the way Dean squeezed his own eyes shut and glassy tears dribbled out the sides.
"Dean, what the hell are you looking at? The playground can't be that interesting," Sam huffed next to him.
"Shut up, give me another minute."
The scene in the periscope faded away, and then Sam was standing in front of a bus and holding a ticket to California in his hand, while Dean nodded, small and sad. In Dean's hand, he held a flyer with a university logo on the top, the rest of the words too little to read, and this, this right here was exactly what Dean had feared. Sam would never tell him that college was on the horizon, but this eye had been rumored to show the future and sure enough, that's what it was showing.
Dean swallowed, feeling a bit dizzy at the knowledge, and with that, the images blurred together, as if someone had pressed the fast-forward button and caused everything to go spinning together in a mad blur of color. The image suddenly stopped, too abruptly in a drunken sort of jerky way, and a motel room door opened to reveal an irritated, dark-haired girl in her blue underwear. Sam, so different—older and larger—walked into the picture behind her, and his mouth opened in astonishment, as he stopped and stared at something amazing. Following his view, Dean and Bobby stood on the other side of the door, both equally older, matching Sam's age progression. Dean watched his mouth smile, move and say something to Sam, before he entered the motel room, ignoring the short girl off to the side.
In some flash of misunderstanding, Sam came at him with a knife, screaming inaudibly, while Bobby pulled him back and the dark-haired girl cowered in the corner. Bobby calmed down Sam, and then, then Sam crashed into Dean in an embrace so tight it knocked the wind out of Dean even now—years away.
That was enough. Dean stood up, away from the periscope.
"Well, that was a hell of a long time," Sam said, tossing hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head. "Must've seen something real good."
Dean swallowed, looked at his brother, who was leaving him for college, leaving him, but returning anyway—somehow, some way returning with a dark-haired girl by his side in a motel room with a little red heart on its door.
But, returning all the same.
"Yeah," Dean said, breathing out sharply to control the racing of his heart. Sam would leave, but Sam would come back. That's all he wanted to know. Sam would come back. "Real good, Sammy."
He turned away, slapping Sam on the shoulder and letting his hand linger for perhaps longer than necessary, as he remembered the scene of the two of them in the yellow paisley motel room. "Let's go get some ice cream," he said.
Sam stiffened, confused, but he shrugged. "Okay, yeah, ice cream."
Dean smiled and glanced behind him to where Sam was framed by the late afternoon sun. It'd be all right. Sam would come back. They'd be together in the end. Yes, all would be all right.
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
The area was bustling with children and their ice cream cones and parents and their cameras. Here at the park, the masses clustered towards the more exciting things—the loop-de-loop slide and the rainbow colored monkey bars. No one really paid much attention to the big, blue eye in the back of the park, tucked away behind some trees and curving sidewalks. No one, that was, except for Sam and Dean.
"I can't believe Dad sent us out here to check this out," Sam grumbled. He was seventeen years old that summer, perpetually grumpy and continually blinded by the hair in his eyes. He didn't argue much with Dad about the little things anymore, choosing instead of hit Dad at his most sensitive points, which only erupted into volatile arguments that Dean found himself stuck in the middle of one way or another.
"He didn't," Dean confessed after a beat, pushing aside a low-hanging tree branch so they could enter the cleared area where the eye was on a metal tube, staring straight at them.
"He didn't?"
"I…I thought we should."
"You?" Sam sputtered, and Dean tensed, waiting for an onslaught of arguments of how they could have stayed back in the motel room, how Sam could have been working—at a real job with a real income, as he was fond of pointing out lately—or how, simply, Dean was still Dad's little soldier, following one great hunt to another without thought.
"Look. Just," Dean said, raising his hand and stepping forward, "just drop it, okay? Give me your debate team arguments later. I think this is something we should see."
Much to his surprise—and gratitude—Sam didn't say anything farther. He came closer to stand beside Dean and look down into the hole that was at the bottom of the eye's pipe. "It's a periscope," Sam said after a moment of squinting into the hole.
"A what?"
"Periscope," Sam repeated, stepping back and standing up straight. "Like in submarines, y'know? Using mirrors to see in a different direction than where you're facing."
"Oh."
"You sound disappointed," Sam said. He looked confused. Dean would have thought Sam looked concerned as well, but given his petulant attitude in the recent months, that might have been wishful thinking.
"Eh," Dean said, trying to shrug it off. "Guess what I heard wasn't true."
"What did you hear?"
"Wasn't real, so it doesn't matter."
"Dean..."
"Here, just...just let me take a look. Maybe you're doing it wrong," Dean said as he approached the periscope. Sam moved out of the way so Dean could bend down and squint awkwardly into the dirty viewing hole at the base of the silver pipe. He didn't see anything for a moment, everything dark and fuzzy as he shifted and sputtered to get his eye aligned just so. Then, clearly, he was able to see the park behind them—the parents and children, ice cream and loop-de-loop slide.
No, no, this wasn't right. He had heard...
"Look, if you'd just tell me what's going on, maybe we can get this figured out," Sam was saying off to Dean's side. “Sure would be a lot faster with the both of us thinking together than you alone.” Dean resisted the urge to swat at him, knowing it would throw off his balance and ruin his sight alignment when Sam hit him back.
He reached up and slapped the top of the eye instead, and a hollow clanging sound reverberated through the metal, causing the little mirrors to vibrate slowly. As the mirrors shook, the scene began to fade, faded away from the children and their ice cream, no more rainbow monkey bars, and yes, yes, this was it right here.
The images faded, shifted, until Dean was seeing something different. A bedroom. Had to be one of a motel, given the layout of the small room with two adjacent queen beds and yellow paisley wallpaper. On a bed, the one closest to the door that Dean always took, Sam and he were lying on the golden blankets. They were mostly naked—Sam wearing only his boxers and Dean in unbuttoned blue jeans—and they were kissing, hot and desperate.
Heat flashed through Dean in the park as he watched the scene. He wasn't surprised, really; he and Sam had fooled around before—out of boredom, sometimes from being too buzzed after a hunt on the fury of adrenaline, sometimes just because he'd look at Sam and Sam'd look at him and, well, that was that. But, it wasn't a regular thing. And if it was, Dean certainly didn't want to think about it being so.
In this scene of yellow paisley wallpaper and mustard colored bedcovers, they were on the bed, curled into one another with hands down each other pants', and Dean wasn't stupid, knew exactly that hands were wrapped around cocks. Could tell by the way their wrists flexed and their hips twitched into the other, all tight and needy, like they couldn’t get enough. In the bedroom, Sam was saying something with his eyes closed, but Dean couldn't hear his words—could only see Sam's furrowed brow and the way Dean squeezed his own eyes shut and glassy tears dribbled out the sides.
"Dean, what the hell are you looking at? The playground can't be that interesting," Sam huffed next to him.
"Shut up, give me another minute."
The scene in the periscope faded away, and then Sam was standing in front of a bus and holding a ticket to California in his hand, while Dean nodded, small and sad. In Dean's hand, he held a flyer with a university logo on the top, the rest of the words too little to read, and this, this right here was exactly what Dean had feared. Sam would never tell him that college was on the horizon, but this eye had been rumored to show the future and sure enough, that's what it was showing.
Dean swallowed, feeling a bit dizzy at the knowledge, and with that, the images blurred together, as if someone had pressed the fast-forward button and caused everything to go spinning together in a mad blur of color. The image suddenly stopped, too abruptly in a drunken sort of jerky way, and a motel room door opened to reveal an irritated, dark-haired girl in her blue underwear. Sam, so different—older and larger—walked into the picture behind her, and his mouth opened in astonishment, as he stopped and stared at something amazing. Following his view, Dean and Bobby stood on the other side of the door, both equally older, matching Sam's age progression. Dean watched his mouth smile, move and say something to Sam, before he entered the motel room, ignoring the short girl off to the side.
In some flash of misunderstanding, Sam came at him with a knife, screaming inaudibly, while Bobby pulled him back and the dark-haired girl cowered in the corner. Bobby calmed down Sam, and then, then Sam crashed into Dean in an embrace so tight it knocked the wind out of Dean even now—years away.
That was enough. Dean stood up, away from the periscope.
"Well, that was a hell of a long time," Sam said, tossing hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head. "Must've seen something real good."
Dean swallowed, looked at his brother, who was leaving him for college, leaving him, but returning anyway—somehow, some way returning with a dark-haired girl by his side in a motel room with a little red heart on its door.
But, returning all the same.
"Yeah," Dean said, breathing out sharply to control the racing of his heart. Sam would leave, but Sam would come back. That's all he wanted to know. Sam would come back. "Real good, Sammy."
He turned away, slapping Sam on the shoulder and letting his hand linger for perhaps longer than necessary, as he remembered the scene of the two of them in the yellow paisley motel room. "Let's go get some ice cream," he said.
Sam stiffened, confused, but he shrugged. "Okay, yeah, ice cream."
Dean smiled and glanced behind him to where Sam was framed by the late afternoon sun. It'd be all right. Sam would come back. They'd be together in the end. Yes, all would be all right.
End
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 09:49 pm (UTC)Really like your take on this pic. Such a nifty concept, and Sam is a pest and Dean's so desperate to know, warm summer park day, them just them while Dean watches what they'll become.
♥
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 10:15 pm (UTC)♥
no subject
Date: 2008-12-11 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 06:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 08:44 am (UTC)Sam can be such a brat sometimes! But I still love him! Just like Dean!
no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 03:59 pm (UTC)Hee, yeah, he can be a brat, but he can be forgiven--stupid teenage hormones and all. ;D
Thank you! ♥
no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 03:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 03:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 04:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 04:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-12 04:01 pm (UTC)♥
no subject
Date: 2008-12-16 06:09 pm (UTC)Thank you! I'm so glad you liked it.
♥