PixCT: 12.25
Dec. 25th, 2008 08:07 am![[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
~1880 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
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PixCT: 12.18
- - - - -
Today
DruCT: 12.25
My fic:
Slash (Wincest: Dean/Sam) oneshot
Adult rating
Preseries
~1880 words
- - - - -
Pix's Pic Pick
“Dean…Dean,” Sam whispered, tugging at his sleeve. “Are you seeing this?” His voice was incredulous, thin with excitement and disbelief, and his eyes were wide, darting over the sight before them.
“I…I think so,” Dean managed to sputter after swallowing past the choking lump in his throat. He was seeing it, but truth be told, he wasn’t quite ready to believe it.
“Well, I don’t see what’s so hard about it, quite frankly.”
Dean turned in the direction of the voice where a large reindeer walked up beside him, its blackened hooves clicking over the glittering tiles. The reindeer turned its head, eyelevel with Dean, and said, “Bobby did tell you that you were in for some Christmas magic after all.”
Yes, Bobby had said that. Bobby who came downstairs just as Dean had been finishing his fourth beer—here’s how to celebrate Christmas the Winchester way, folks, when your dad leaves you and your brother again to go after something bigger and better with a gun—and placed the newspaper wrapped package in front of him. When Dean unwrapped the bundle to reveal a stuffed reindeer, Bobby smiled, saying he thought the boys—even as old as they were—deserved a bit of Christmas magic. Said he thought it might be a nice change from the previous holidays.
Dean hadn’t argued, hadn’t asked, had simply shaken his head and said, Yeah, okay, thanks and then headed off to slide into bed with Sam. Then they both were awaked by a large, living, reindeer in their bedroom, asking them to climb aboard his back. Well. They did. Okay, rather, Sam did—still too naïve for his own good at sixteen years old—and Dean was forced to follow along. A whirlwind ride later, they stood in what appeared to be—if Dean was willing to admit such things to himself—Santa’s workshop at, yup, the North Pole.
“Bobby knew this would happen?” Sam asked now, looking away from the scene where elves, dressed in iridescent red and green uniforms adorned with bells and bangles, hurried about, fussing with toys and the other reindeer.
“I…I…don’t know,” Dean admitted.
“Well,” said Comet—the reindeer next to them—simply, “if he did, he did. If he didn’t, he didn’t. Either way, you two are here, right?” For a reindeer, Comet didn’t beat around the bush with things. “Now, is there anything I can get for the two of you? Something to eat? Drink? Anything you want to see?”
“Something to eat would be great,” Dean said. He was surprisingly clear-headed for as much as he had drank earlier in the evening. He decided that the alcohol’s effects couldn’t be felt in this dream world.
“Anything in particular?” Comet asked. Across the room, two elves were laughing as they fought to tie a package bigger than the both of them combined. Their laughter was bright, the sound of bells ringing.
“What do you have?” Sam asked.
Comet chuckled—a strange sort of sound from a reindeer. “Anything!” he exclaimed. “It’s the North Pole! All of the finest chefs come here! They cook all year long just to make perfect meals for the world’s hungry children on Christmas.”
Dean was going to ask why he’d never heard of Santa playing Meals on Wheels in all the Christmas stories he’d heard from the other kids at school, but Sam interrupted. “Pancakes sound great! Pancakes and sausage and scrambled eggs! Egg nog! Christmas cookies!” He stopped, face blushing, as if realizing how ridiculous he might have sounded. “Um, please? If that’s okay?”
“Okay? Why, that’s great!” Comet said. “Anything you ask for, it’s yours! It’s why I brought you here. Thought you two deserved a Christmas like this for once. Now, c’mon, follow me.”
He turned, heading down a hallway with green and red tiles, as Sam and Dean followed. A puppy with long, floppy ears and a fat tummy ran towards them, out of an opened room with an assortment of baby animals rolling over one another playfully. The puppy collided into Sam’s legs clumsily. Sam chuckled and picked up the puppy, which squirmed and yipped in his arms, all while licking his face. Sam laughed again, and he looked over to Dean, eyes glittering and happy.
They ate pancakes and bacon, sausage and donuts, orange juice and egg nog, frosted sugar cookies and chocolate fudge, and more food than they even knew existed in a bustling hall, where the cooks wore tall, white hats and warm, rosy cheeks. The chefs packaged up the food in fancy tins with big, looped bows and handed the packages off to elves who disappeared with them around a corner, off to deliver them to the children over the globe. Meanwhile, Sam’s puppy scampered around his feet, eating the bacon Sam sneakily dropped to the floor, while Dean—finally starting to maybe, just maybe believe—poked Sam in the ribs and said, “Pretty good, huh?”
When they were done eating, Comet introduced them to some of the elves. Noel, who knew twenty different recipes for candy canes by heart, and Jingle, who enjoyed racing the reindeer during the “off season.” There was Pep—short for Peppermint—who could make a bell that rang so pure and clear, and Holly, who spent most of the year out in the greenhouse, nursing her poinsettias to grow dazzling and beautiful.
“Santa’s going to be leaving soon,” Comet announced as Dean and Sam helped a group of elves string popcorn and cranberries. “He wants to see the two of you.”
“Us?” Sam said.
“You two. Quickly, now, follow me.”
Dean glanced at Sam and mouthed, Santa? while Sam shrugged his shoulders, and they hurried to keep up with Comet, who was almost halfway across the room by then, proving that four legs could move much faster than two.
“Sam and Dean, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Claus,” Comet said as they approached a massive sleigh that was being loaded with wrapped gifts and packages. With those words, a tall man turned around and smiled down at the boys.
“Sam and Dean Winchester,” the man said. “How are the two of you doing? Enjoying yourselves?”
Neither of them said anything for a moment, too taken aback to speak. Finally, Sam sputtered, his voice cracking like he had started puberty all over again, “S-Santa…?”
The man laughed, loud and open, holding onto his stomach, and said, “Yes! Yes! No need to act frightened, you two! I’m not going to bite!”
“Well…it’s just…” Dean mumbled.
“Just what, son?”
“Just…that, well, I mean, we’re both so old, I thought…y’know…”
“Thought that Santa didn’t exist when you’re as old as you two are?” Santa asked.
Dean and Sam both nodded.
Santa crouched down to bring himself at eyelevel with them. “You met all my chefs, right? And they’re adults. You met my elves, some adults, too. Boys, allow me to let you in on a little secret: I don’t go away when you get older. I go away when you stop believing, okay? It’s clichéd, I know. Trust me, I’ve seen all the Christmas movies ever made—got a lot of free time when you only work one day a year—but clichéd or not, it’s the right message.” He smiled then, a bit sad and soft, a sharp contrast to his boisterous laughter. “I know you two have it pretty hard sometimes, and I’m sorry for that. If I could change things for the two of you, I would. I can’t give you your mom back and I can’t change your daddy, but is there anything I can do for you? Any special gifts you might want to take back with you?”
Dean looked over at Sam, and even though neither of them said anything aloud to each other, they both had the same wish for Christmas. It wasn’t a new car. It wasn’t that fat puppy. It wasn’t even to go to college some day and live a safe life away from hunting.
Sam leaned forward and whispered in Santa’s ear, and Dean didn’t hear his words—didn’t need to—because he knew that Sam’s wish was the same as his own: For them to never be separated and to always—no matter what—have each other.
When Sam backed away, Santa smiled and said, “I’ll see what I can do about that.” Then he looked to Comet. “Would you show these two their room for the night? I think they need some sleep, as I’m about to be off soon.”
Comet nodded. “Will do, sir.”
He took Sam and Dean to a large, sprawling room with a fully decorated Christmas tree in the corner and a crackling fireplace below a row of bulging stockings. The bed was covered in pillows and warm, soft blankets so thick that Sam sank down when he sat on the mattress.
“How will we get home?” Dean asked as Comet turned to leave.
Comet smiled. “Just go to sleep. It’ll be all right when you wake up. Don’t worry.” He glanced to Sam, who was pulling up the covers and sliding in underneath. “Now, the both of you, sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
When he was gone and Sam and Dean were alone, Dean climbed onto the bed next to Sam and said, “Some Christmas, huh?”
Sam grinned. “Yeah, no kidding.”
Dean laid down, curling around Sam, his chest against Sam’s back, cock against Sam’s bottom, and he kissed the bare skin of Sam’s neck. “Hey you, Merry Christmas,” he whispered.
Reaching back, Sam found Dean’s hand, brought it over top to rest their entwined fingers together on his stomach. “You too, Dean. You too.”
Dean wanted to say more, wanted to ask what Sam had thought of it all, but the warm embrace of sleep pulled him down, and he drifted off, happy and satisfied with Sam beside him.
The next morning, Dean awoke to the sound of Sam saying, “Dean, Dean, c’mon, I think Bobby made breakfast.” Dean rolled over and opened his eyes to the small room that Bobby had cleared out for them to stay in while Dad was gone. There was no Christmas tree in the corner and there was no crackling fireplace. There was dust on the windowsills and gray morning light coming in through the tattered curtains. Nothing remained from the beauty of last night except Sam, who was crouching on the covers with eyes eager and bright.
“Hey, Dean?” Sam asked.
“Hmm?”
“You remember last night? Tell me it wasn’t a dream.”
Dean groaned and pushed himself up. Sitting, he was able to see the stuffed reindeer looking at him from the end of the bed. The stuffed reindeer Bobby had given to him the previous night with the promise of it bringing some Christmas magic for the boys. The reindeer with a red tag that said “Comet” and two big, soft eyes that were all too familiar. In the dim light, Dean could swear the reindeer was smiling at him.
Perhaps it was.
Dean smiled and reached for Sam to pull them down together. “Yeah, I remember,” he whispered and kissed Sam on the cheek. “I remember, Sammy.”
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
“Dean…Dean,” Sam whispered, tugging at his sleeve. “Are you seeing this?” His voice was incredulous, thin with excitement and disbelief, and his eyes were wide, darting over the sight before them.
“I…I think so,” Dean managed to sputter after swallowing past the choking lump in his throat. He was seeing it, but truth be told, he wasn’t quite ready to believe it.
“Well, I don’t see what’s so hard about it, quite frankly.”
Dean turned in the direction of the voice where a large reindeer walked up beside him, its blackened hooves clicking over the glittering tiles. The reindeer turned its head, eyelevel with Dean, and said, “Bobby did tell you that you were in for some Christmas magic after all.”
Yes, Bobby had said that. Bobby who came downstairs just as Dean had been finishing his fourth beer—here’s how to celebrate Christmas the Winchester way, folks, when your dad leaves you and your brother again to go after something bigger and better with a gun—and placed the newspaper wrapped package in front of him. When Dean unwrapped the bundle to reveal a stuffed reindeer, Bobby smiled, saying he thought the boys—even as old as they were—deserved a bit of Christmas magic. Said he thought it might be a nice change from the previous holidays.
Dean hadn’t argued, hadn’t asked, had simply shaken his head and said, Yeah, okay, thanks and then headed off to slide into bed with Sam. Then they both were awaked by a large, living, reindeer in their bedroom, asking them to climb aboard his back. Well. They did. Okay, rather, Sam did—still too naïve for his own good at sixteen years old—and Dean was forced to follow along. A whirlwind ride later, they stood in what appeared to be—if Dean was willing to admit such things to himself—Santa’s workshop at, yup, the North Pole.
“Bobby knew this would happen?” Sam asked now, looking away from the scene where elves, dressed in iridescent red and green uniforms adorned with bells and bangles, hurried about, fussing with toys and the other reindeer.
“I…I…don’t know,” Dean admitted.
“Well,” said Comet—the reindeer next to them—simply, “if he did, he did. If he didn’t, he didn’t. Either way, you two are here, right?” For a reindeer, Comet didn’t beat around the bush with things. “Now, is there anything I can get for the two of you? Something to eat? Drink? Anything you want to see?”
“Something to eat would be great,” Dean said. He was surprisingly clear-headed for as much as he had drank earlier in the evening. He decided that the alcohol’s effects couldn’t be felt in this dream world.
“Anything in particular?” Comet asked. Across the room, two elves were laughing as they fought to tie a package bigger than the both of them combined. Their laughter was bright, the sound of bells ringing.
“What do you have?” Sam asked.
Comet chuckled—a strange sort of sound from a reindeer. “Anything!” he exclaimed. “It’s the North Pole! All of the finest chefs come here! They cook all year long just to make perfect meals for the world’s hungry children on Christmas.”
Dean was going to ask why he’d never heard of Santa playing Meals on Wheels in all the Christmas stories he’d heard from the other kids at school, but Sam interrupted. “Pancakes sound great! Pancakes and sausage and scrambled eggs! Egg nog! Christmas cookies!” He stopped, face blushing, as if realizing how ridiculous he might have sounded. “Um, please? If that’s okay?”
“Okay? Why, that’s great!” Comet said. “Anything you ask for, it’s yours! It’s why I brought you here. Thought you two deserved a Christmas like this for once. Now, c’mon, follow me.”
He turned, heading down a hallway with green and red tiles, as Sam and Dean followed. A puppy with long, floppy ears and a fat tummy ran towards them, out of an opened room with an assortment of baby animals rolling over one another playfully. The puppy collided into Sam’s legs clumsily. Sam chuckled and picked up the puppy, which squirmed and yipped in his arms, all while licking his face. Sam laughed again, and he looked over to Dean, eyes glittering and happy.
They ate pancakes and bacon, sausage and donuts, orange juice and egg nog, frosted sugar cookies and chocolate fudge, and more food than they even knew existed in a bustling hall, where the cooks wore tall, white hats and warm, rosy cheeks. The chefs packaged up the food in fancy tins with big, looped bows and handed the packages off to elves who disappeared with them around a corner, off to deliver them to the children over the globe. Meanwhile, Sam’s puppy scampered around his feet, eating the bacon Sam sneakily dropped to the floor, while Dean—finally starting to maybe, just maybe believe—poked Sam in the ribs and said, “Pretty good, huh?”
When they were done eating, Comet introduced them to some of the elves. Noel, who knew twenty different recipes for candy canes by heart, and Jingle, who enjoyed racing the reindeer during the “off season.” There was Pep—short for Peppermint—who could make a bell that rang so pure and clear, and Holly, who spent most of the year out in the greenhouse, nursing her poinsettias to grow dazzling and beautiful.
“Santa’s going to be leaving soon,” Comet announced as Dean and Sam helped a group of elves string popcorn and cranberries. “He wants to see the two of you.”
“Us?” Sam said.
“You two. Quickly, now, follow me.”
Dean glanced at Sam and mouthed, Santa? while Sam shrugged his shoulders, and they hurried to keep up with Comet, who was almost halfway across the room by then, proving that four legs could move much faster than two.
“Sam and Dean, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Claus,” Comet said as they approached a massive sleigh that was being loaded with wrapped gifts and packages. With those words, a tall man turned around and smiled down at the boys.
“Sam and Dean Winchester,” the man said. “How are the two of you doing? Enjoying yourselves?”
Neither of them said anything for a moment, too taken aback to speak. Finally, Sam sputtered, his voice cracking like he had started puberty all over again, “S-Santa…?”
The man laughed, loud and open, holding onto his stomach, and said, “Yes! Yes! No need to act frightened, you two! I’m not going to bite!”
“Well…it’s just…” Dean mumbled.
“Just what, son?”
“Just…that, well, I mean, we’re both so old, I thought…y’know…”
“Thought that Santa didn’t exist when you’re as old as you two are?” Santa asked.
Dean and Sam both nodded.
Santa crouched down to bring himself at eyelevel with them. “You met all my chefs, right? And they’re adults. You met my elves, some adults, too. Boys, allow me to let you in on a little secret: I don’t go away when you get older. I go away when you stop believing, okay? It’s clichéd, I know. Trust me, I’ve seen all the Christmas movies ever made—got a lot of free time when you only work one day a year—but clichéd or not, it’s the right message.” He smiled then, a bit sad and soft, a sharp contrast to his boisterous laughter. “I know you two have it pretty hard sometimes, and I’m sorry for that. If I could change things for the two of you, I would. I can’t give you your mom back and I can’t change your daddy, but is there anything I can do for you? Any special gifts you might want to take back with you?”
Dean looked over at Sam, and even though neither of them said anything aloud to each other, they both had the same wish for Christmas. It wasn’t a new car. It wasn’t that fat puppy. It wasn’t even to go to college some day and live a safe life away from hunting.
Sam leaned forward and whispered in Santa’s ear, and Dean didn’t hear his words—didn’t need to—because he knew that Sam’s wish was the same as his own: For them to never be separated and to always—no matter what—have each other.
When Sam backed away, Santa smiled and said, “I’ll see what I can do about that.” Then he looked to Comet. “Would you show these two their room for the night? I think they need some sleep, as I’m about to be off soon.”
Comet nodded. “Will do, sir.”
He took Sam and Dean to a large, sprawling room with a fully decorated Christmas tree in the corner and a crackling fireplace below a row of bulging stockings. The bed was covered in pillows and warm, soft blankets so thick that Sam sank down when he sat on the mattress.
“How will we get home?” Dean asked as Comet turned to leave.
Comet smiled. “Just go to sleep. It’ll be all right when you wake up. Don’t worry.” He glanced to Sam, who was pulling up the covers and sliding in underneath. “Now, the both of you, sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
When he was gone and Sam and Dean were alone, Dean climbed onto the bed next to Sam and said, “Some Christmas, huh?”
Sam grinned. “Yeah, no kidding.”
Dean laid down, curling around Sam, his chest against Sam’s back, cock against Sam’s bottom, and he kissed the bare skin of Sam’s neck. “Hey you, Merry Christmas,” he whispered.
Reaching back, Sam found Dean’s hand, brought it over top to rest their entwined fingers together on his stomach. “You too, Dean. You too.”
Dean wanted to say more, wanted to ask what Sam had thought of it all, but the warm embrace of sleep pulled him down, and he drifted off, happy and satisfied with Sam beside him.
The next morning, Dean awoke to the sound of Sam saying, “Dean, Dean, c’mon, I think Bobby made breakfast.” Dean rolled over and opened his eyes to the small room that Bobby had cleared out for them to stay in while Dad was gone. There was no Christmas tree in the corner and there was no crackling fireplace. There was dust on the windowsills and gray morning light coming in through the tattered curtains. Nothing remained from the beauty of last night except Sam, who was crouching on the covers with eyes eager and bright.
“Hey, Dean?” Sam asked.
“Hmm?”
“You remember last night? Tell me it wasn’t a dream.”
Dean groaned and pushed himself up. Sitting, he was able to see the stuffed reindeer looking at him from the end of the bed. The stuffed reindeer Bobby had given to him the previous night with the promise of it bringing some Christmas magic for the boys. The reindeer with a red tag that said “Comet” and two big, soft eyes that were all too familiar. In the dim light, Dean could swear the reindeer was smiling at him.
Perhaps it was.
Dean smiled and reached for Sam to pull them down together. “Yeah, I remember,” he whispered and kissed Sam on the cheek. “I remember, Sammy.”
End
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 01:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 01:52 pm (UTC)MERRY CHRISTMAS MY DARLING
no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 09:39 pm (UTC)Sam pulling Dean's hand over onto his stomach melts me.
Merry Christmas! ♥
no subject
Date: 2008-12-26 05:30 am (UTC)And I hope you're having a great christmas yourself, and may all your wishes come true!
*hugs you*
no subject
Date: 2008-12-27 03:24 pm (UTC)Merry Christmas to you too! Hope you had a lovely one! :D
no subject
Date: 2008-12-27 03:24 pm (UTC)I hope you had a wonderful Christmas! ♥
no subject
Date: 2008-12-27 03:25 pm (UTC)Thank you! I hope you had a great Christmas too! :D
*hugs back*