majestic_duxk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
majestic_duxk) wrote2015-09-27 08:25 pm
majestic_duxk) wrote2015-09-27 08:25 pm
Fic: Come on Baby, Light my Fire
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: T
kinks/warnings: drug use, smoking, kissing, humour, fluff,
summary: It's Dean's first time smoking. It isn't Sam's.
Extra cookie for blushy, happy Dean, trying to keep his cool, rock and roll, badass older brother posturing, then happily falling apart in Sam's arms.
a/n: OH GOD I FORGOT THE SHOTGUNNING I AM A TERRIBLE PROMPT FILLER. but I still had a good time writing it.
--
“Of course I’ve done this before!”
Sam just barely restrained the eye roll. Sure, Dean sounded all ‘what the fuck are you talking about, do you think there’s anything I haven’t done?’, but for anyone who had studied Dean their whole life, the slight twitch, the shoulder hitch? Dead giveaways. And let’s just say Sam had always been committed to his study.
But rather than call him on it, Sam just reached for the joint. Dean’s eyes followed as Sam pulled (an admittedly badass) lighter from his pocket, resplendent with devils trap, and thumbed the ignition. The burst of flame was almost shocking in the dim light of the motel room, but it soon dulled when and smouldered into a single point.
You don’t have to do this Sam wanted to say. But he stopped himself. Partly because Dean was a big boy, had made his own decisions for years. And partly because Sam really, really wanted to see what Dean was like when he was stoned.
~o~
It had been twenty minutes and Dean hadn’t stopped giggling. Sam was sure he had a big goofy smile on his face too. Under the influence, Dean’s face relaxed, the tension in his face smoothing out, and he looked ten years younger. Under the influence, Dean was fluffy, and giggly, and pretty much nothing like Sam had ever seen.
He loved it.
Dean was slumped over, laughing into a pillow about... fuck. What were they even laughing about? Sam slowly joined Dean, giggling until Dean forced himself upright, and forced a ridiculously serious onto his face.
“I hope this isn’t what you got up to at Stanford, Sam. You are supposed to be a pineapple of society.”
Sam could have taken it more seriously if Dean’s eyes were looking in the same direction. As it was, Sam let his eyes rove over his beautiful brother, taking in the freckles, and the shoulders, and that smile that Sam never saw enough of.
Blinking, Sam realised he probably needed to respond, but before Sam could formulate an answer, Dean’s expression sobered. Head tilted, he stared at Sam, and Sam swore Dean’s eyes roved approvingly over his body, with so much approval that, without his permission, Sam could feel his blood heat.
Sam’s gaze narrowed to his brother’s mouth, and somehow it was getting closer. It was so kissable. And perfect. And right in front of him, so maybe he should just try…
A firm hand on his chest stopped his descent.
“Sam.”
Sam blinked and fuck! When did he end up nose to nose with Dean? Forcing himself back until he was back where he started. He stared at his brother, who stared back, face fixed firm and unyielding. Oh god. He’d ruined it. This was it. The end of the Winchester brothers. Sam had ruined it all. Dean knew, and now he was going to send Sam away. But he wouldn’t, would he? Sam would be good, he’d put it all back in the box, and Dean would never need to think about it again and –
“Do we have any pie? I’m fucking starving, man!”
And thank god Sam was an awesome brother, who’d prepared for this eventuality. He was fucking awesome.
“I’ve got pie.”
Dean’s face lit up. “What the fuck, man? Pie! Why isn’t here? Where’s the pie, Sammy? Where’s the pie?”
Dean was up and looking around the sofa: under, beneath the cushions, the under from behind. It was nowhere. He turned to Sam, manhandling him out of the chair. “It’s not on my chair, Sam. So it must be here.” Dean shook his head sadly, peering at Sam with some of the saddest puppy dog eyes he’d ever seen. “I can’t believe you’d sit on my pie, Sam. Didn’t I raise you better than that?”
Heaving himself out of his chair, left Dean searching between the pillows. Sam walked carefully to the kitchen, and as the annoyed huffs stopped, he felt Dean’s eyes on him, all intent and still so serious. Dean was always serious about pie. Sam couldn’t stifle the giggles. He’s hard as nails brothers brought down by pie.
“Hey, Sammmmmmy. What’s so funny?”
Sam ignored him as he grabbed the whole pie from the fridge, then, as an afterthought, added a couple of forks and plates. Returning to the lounge, Sam proudly showed the result of his hunting.
“Pie!”
Blinking, Dean stared at the pie, before dissolving into giggles. Again.
“You… you… you got pie, Sammy! You got pie for me!”
Grinning, Sam went to sit down in his chair, only to have Dean’s hand attach itself to his arm.
“No, Sammy. Sit with me.”
It was Sam’s turn to blink.
“We have to share the pie. You don’t get it all just because you have longer arms.”
Snorting, Sam allowed himself to be pulled to the sofa. Because yeah, he wanted to. Wait! No. No he was doing this because this was typical Dean.
What was not so typical was the way he pulled Sam close, before clambering on top of him. Sam’s breath caught as their clothed cocks rubbed against each other.
“Ohhh… that feels good, Sammy.”
And it did, it really did. If Sam had been more in his right mind, he would have stopped his brother then and there - there was no way Dean wanted this. As it was, he didn't know what to do. He sat there, stunned, as Dean once more rubbed himself against Sam. Sam couldn't help but perk up. It was gratifying to know Dean was more than a little interested.
“Ouch!”
Dean, the little brat, bit Sam’s nipple through his shirt.
“What the fuck was that about?”
Settling his fine ass on Sam’s lap, Dean crossed his arms (and eyes. Sam couldn’t help sniggering again) and wagged a finger in Sam’s general direction.
“Dean?”
“Never took you for a cold fish, Sam.”
“What does that even mean?”
Dean rolled his eyes so hard he fell off Sam’s lap. Clawing his way back up, he settled himself firmly before informing Sam, “Cold fish don’t move.”
“All fish are cold. It’s their biology.”
“Yes, but warm fish flop around. Even if they are cold, they aren’t as cold as cold fish.”
Sam opened his mouth to defend himself, the closed it quickly, as Dean stuck a pie covered finger in there. And promptly stuck it too far, choking him. Coughing and spluttering, Sam grabbed the wrist attached to the offending digit, and pulled it out of his throat.
“Dean!”
Dean’s look was one of disappointment.
“How can we do this, Sammy, if you choke on a finger? I’m much bigger than a finger, and it’s not fair if you can’t suck my cock.”
Sam didn’t let go of Dean’s wrist, and it was with a fascinated kind of horror he had to ask, “How is that not fair?”
“What, you think you’re the only one that should get blow jobs? I’m telling you, Sammy, that’s not the way I play.”
Sam couldn’t hide his interest. “How do you play, Dean?”
Seductively, Dean reached back to dip his fingers in the pie. But he totally missed, and smashed his hand in the centre.
“Gross, Dean!”
Slowly Dean brought his hand up to his face. And nodded. Before slowly licking his palm clean and sighing happily.
“Yeah, totally gross. But so delicious. This is delicious pie, Sam.” Suddenly, his eyes filled with tears. “You must love me so much to buy me the most delicious pie I’ve ever tasted. Thank you, Sam. Thank you. The best brother ever. Ever!”
Sighing, Sam leaned back. Dean was really too stoned to do this. Smiling softly, Sam closed his eyes, only to open them when something soft and distinctly apple-y brushed his mouth.
Licking his lips, Sam glared. “Dean!”
Pouting, Dean moved his fingers once more to Sam’s mouth. “Don’t lick this time, Sammy. It’s my turn.”
Suiting actions to words, Dean kitten licked the apple filling from Sam’s lips. It… it felt nice, but he couldn’t stop laughing.
“Sam!”
“C’mon, Dean! Could you think of anything less sexy?”
Thoughtfully, Dean sucked at his palm. Sam watched the pink tongue sweep across his lips, collecting the apple… and knew he had to taste it. Darting forward, he nibbled at Dean’s lower lip, soothing it gently with his tongue as Dean opened his mouth to complain. It only took a minute before Dean was totally on board, pressing himself against Sam, cupping his face with sticky hands, and kissing back.
Eventually, Sam had to pause for breath, and Dean took the opportunity to continue the conversation.
“Leviathans.”
Sam’s mouth had been at Dean’s throat, but that stopped him.
“Excuse me?”
“Leviathans. Leviathans are much more gross than apple pie. And anyway, apple pie is supposed to be sexy. Didn’t you ever see that movie where the kid fucked an apple pie?”
“Does that really sound like my sort of movie, Dean?”
Thoughtfully, Dean pressed small kisses against the corner of Sam’s mouth, until he felt his brother’s lips twitch in a smile.
“Dunno, Sam. And why’re you talking about movies anyway. I can think of much better we could be doing?”
Sam started to giggle. “Oh really, Dean. And what sort of things would they be?”
Dean eased himself over Sam’s body, until his hands wrapped under his brother’s arms. “Maybe things like this.”
This time there was no tease. Dean’s tongue traced the seam of Sam’s lips, and he opened, wanted his brother inside him. Dean deepened the kiss – just for a moment, before pulling back and kissing along Sam’s jaw.
“Don’t tease, Dean!”
“Least I’m here flopping around like a warm fish, Sammy.”
Rolling his eyes, Sam then, with considerable effort, rolled the two of them, so that his brother was underneath. Settling himself between Dean’s legs, Sam enjoyed the way Dean pushed up, rutting against him.
“That’s more like it Sammy! When are we going to get to the action?”
Sam nibbled Dean’s earlobe, feeling the full body shiver before kissing him firmly.
“Pants stay on. I’m not fucking you while your stoned, Dean.”
“What? Why would you want me to suffer like this? Haven’t I done everything for you! I sold my fucking soul for you, man, and your telling me-mmph!”
Sam kissed the pout off his brother’s lips. “There’s plenty of stuff we’re gonna do, Dean. I’m just not having sex while we’re stoned.” Seeing the mutinous look in his brother’s eyes, Sam peppered kisses across his face until his was giggling again. “At least not the first time. After that, you’re fair game.”
Unsurprisingly, Dean just kissed him back.
Rating: T
kinks/warnings: drug use, smoking, kissing, humour, fluff,
summary: It's Dean's first time smoking. It isn't Sam's.
Extra cookie for blushy, happy Dean, trying to keep his cool, rock and roll, badass older brother posturing, then happily falling apart in Sam's arms.
a/n: OH GOD I FORGOT THE SHOTGUNNING I AM A TERRIBLE PROMPT FILLER. but I still had a good time writing it.
--
“Of course I’ve done this before!”
Sam just barely restrained the eye roll. Sure, Dean sounded all ‘what the fuck are you talking about, do you think there’s anything I haven’t done?’, but for anyone who had studied Dean their whole life, the slight twitch, the shoulder hitch? Dead giveaways. And let’s just say Sam had always been committed to his study.
But rather than call him on it, Sam just reached for the joint. Dean’s eyes followed as Sam pulled (an admittedly badass) lighter from his pocket, resplendent with devils trap, and thumbed the ignition. The burst of flame was almost shocking in the dim light of the motel room, but it soon dulled when and smouldered into a single point.
You don’t have to do this Sam wanted to say. But he stopped himself. Partly because Dean was a big boy, had made his own decisions for years. And partly because Sam really, really wanted to see what Dean was like when he was stoned.
~o~
It had been twenty minutes and Dean hadn’t stopped giggling. Sam was sure he had a big goofy smile on his face too. Under the influence, Dean’s face relaxed, the tension in his face smoothing out, and he looked ten years younger. Under the influence, Dean was fluffy, and giggly, and pretty much nothing like Sam had ever seen.
He loved it.
Dean was slumped over, laughing into a pillow about... fuck. What were they even laughing about? Sam slowly joined Dean, giggling until Dean forced himself upright, and forced a ridiculously serious onto his face.
“I hope this isn’t what you got up to at Stanford, Sam. You are supposed to be a pineapple of society.”
Sam could have taken it more seriously if Dean’s eyes were looking in the same direction. As it was, Sam let his eyes rove over his beautiful brother, taking in the freckles, and the shoulders, and that smile that Sam never saw enough of.
Blinking, Sam realised he probably needed to respond, but before Sam could formulate an answer, Dean’s expression sobered. Head tilted, he stared at Sam, and Sam swore Dean’s eyes roved approvingly over his body, with so much approval that, without his permission, Sam could feel his blood heat.
Sam’s gaze narrowed to his brother’s mouth, and somehow it was getting closer. It was so kissable. And perfect. And right in front of him, so maybe he should just try…
A firm hand on his chest stopped his descent.
“Sam.”
Sam blinked and fuck! When did he end up nose to nose with Dean? Forcing himself back until he was back where he started. He stared at his brother, who stared back, face fixed firm and unyielding. Oh god. He’d ruined it. This was it. The end of the Winchester brothers. Sam had ruined it all. Dean knew, and now he was going to send Sam away. But he wouldn’t, would he? Sam would be good, he’d put it all back in the box, and Dean would never need to think about it again and –
“Do we have any pie? I’m fucking starving, man!”
And thank god Sam was an awesome brother, who’d prepared for this eventuality. He was fucking awesome.
“I’ve got pie.”
Dean’s face lit up. “What the fuck, man? Pie! Why isn’t here? Where’s the pie, Sammy? Where’s the pie?”
Dean was up and looking around the sofa: under, beneath the cushions, the under from behind. It was nowhere. He turned to Sam, manhandling him out of the chair. “It’s not on my chair, Sam. So it must be here.” Dean shook his head sadly, peering at Sam with some of the saddest puppy dog eyes he’d ever seen. “I can’t believe you’d sit on my pie, Sam. Didn’t I raise you better than that?”
Heaving himself out of his chair, left Dean searching between the pillows. Sam walked carefully to the kitchen, and as the annoyed huffs stopped, he felt Dean’s eyes on him, all intent and still so serious. Dean was always serious about pie. Sam couldn’t stifle the giggles. He’s hard as nails brothers brought down by pie.
“Hey, Sammmmmmy. What’s so funny?”
Sam ignored him as he grabbed the whole pie from the fridge, then, as an afterthought, added a couple of forks and plates. Returning to the lounge, Sam proudly showed the result of his hunting.
“Pie!”
Blinking, Dean stared at the pie, before dissolving into giggles. Again.
“You… you… you got pie, Sammy! You got pie for me!”
Grinning, Sam went to sit down in his chair, only to have Dean’s hand attach itself to his arm.
“No, Sammy. Sit with me.”
It was Sam’s turn to blink.
“We have to share the pie. You don’t get it all just because you have longer arms.”
Snorting, Sam allowed himself to be pulled to the sofa. Because yeah, he wanted to. Wait! No. No he was doing this because this was typical Dean.
What was not so typical was the way he pulled Sam close, before clambering on top of him. Sam’s breath caught as their clothed cocks rubbed against each other.
“Ohhh… that feels good, Sammy.”
And it did, it really did. If Sam had been more in his right mind, he would have stopped his brother then and there - there was no way Dean wanted this. As it was, he didn't know what to do. He sat there, stunned, as Dean once more rubbed himself against Sam. Sam couldn't help but perk up. It was gratifying to know Dean was more than a little interested.
“Ouch!”
Dean, the little brat, bit Sam’s nipple through his shirt.
“What the fuck was that about?”
Settling his fine ass on Sam’s lap, Dean crossed his arms (and eyes. Sam couldn’t help sniggering again) and wagged a finger in Sam’s general direction.
“Dean?”
“Never took you for a cold fish, Sam.”
“What does that even mean?”
Dean rolled his eyes so hard he fell off Sam’s lap. Clawing his way back up, he settled himself firmly before informing Sam, “Cold fish don’t move.”
“All fish are cold. It’s their biology.”
“Yes, but warm fish flop around. Even if they are cold, they aren’t as cold as cold fish.”
Sam opened his mouth to defend himself, the closed it quickly, as Dean stuck a pie covered finger in there. And promptly stuck it too far, choking him. Coughing and spluttering, Sam grabbed the wrist attached to the offending digit, and pulled it out of his throat.
“Dean!”
Dean’s look was one of disappointment.
“How can we do this, Sammy, if you choke on a finger? I’m much bigger than a finger, and it’s not fair if you can’t suck my cock.”
Sam didn’t let go of Dean’s wrist, and it was with a fascinated kind of horror he had to ask, “How is that not fair?”
“What, you think you’re the only one that should get blow jobs? I’m telling you, Sammy, that’s not the way I play.”
Sam couldn’t hide his interest. “How do you play, Dean?”
Seductively, Dean reached back to dip his fingers in the pie. But he totally missed, and smashed his hand in the centre.
“Gross, Dean!”
Slowly Dean brought his hand up to his face. And nodded. Before slowly licking his palm clean and sighing happily.
“Yeah, totally gross. But so delicious. This is delicious pie, Sam.” Suddenly, his eyes filled with tears. “You must love me so much to buy me the most delicious pie I’ve ever tasted. Thank you, Sam. Thank you. The best brother ever. Ever!”
Sighing, Sam leaned back. Dean was really too stoned to do this. Smiling softly, Sam closed his eyes, only to open them when something soft and distinctly apple-y brushed his mouth.
Licking his lips, Sam glared. “Dean!”
Pouting, Dean moved his fingers once more to Sam’s mouth. “Don’t lick this time, Sammy. It’s my turn.”
Suiting actions to words, Dean kitten licked the apple filling from Sam’s lips. It… it felt nice, but he couldn’t stop laughing.
“Sam!”
“C’mon, Dean! Could you think of anything less sexy?”
Thoughtfully, Dean sucked at his palm. Sam watched the pink tongue sweep across his lips, collecting the apple… and knew he had to taste it. Darting forward, he nibbled at Dean’s lower lip, soothing it gently with his tongue as Dean opened his mouth to complain. It only took a minute before Dean was totally on board, pressing himself against Sam, cupping his face with sticky hands, and kissing back.
Eventually, Sam had to pause for breath, and Dean took the opportunity to continue the conversation.
“Leviathans.”
Sam’s mouth had been at Dean’s throat, but that stopped him.
“Excuse me?”
“Leviathans. Leviathans are much more gross than apple pie. And anyway, apple pie is supposed to be sexy. Didn’t you ever see that movie where the kid fucked an apple pie?”
“Does that really sound like my sort of movie, Dean?”
Thoughtfully, Dean pressed small kisses against the corner of Sam’s mouth, until he felt his brother’s lips twitch in a smile.
“Dunno, Sam. And why’re you talking about movies anyway. I can think of much better we could be doing?”
Sam started to giggle. “Oh really, Dean. And what sort of things would they be?”
Dean eased himself over Sam’s body, until his hands wrapped under his brother’s arms. “Maybe things like this.”
This time there was no tease. Dean’s tongue traced the seam of Sam’s lips, and he opened, wanted his brother inside him. Dean deepened the kiss – just for a moment, before pulling back and kissing along Sam’s jaw.
“Don’t tease, Dean!”
“Least I’m here flopping around like a warm fish, Sammy.”
Rolling his eyes, Sam then, with considerable effort, rolled the two of them, so that his brother was underneath. Settling himself between Dean’s legs, Sam enjoyed the way Dean pushed up, rutting against him.
“That’s more like it Sammy! When are we going to get to the action?”
Sam nibbled Dean’s earlobe, feeling the full body shiver before kissing him firmly.
“Pants stay on. I’m not fucking you while your stoned, Dean.”
“What? Why would you want me to suffer like this? Haven’t I done everything for you! I sold my fucking soul for you, man, and your telling me-mmph!”
Sam kissed the pout off his brother’s lips. “There’s plenty of stuff we’re gonna do, Dean. I’m just not having sex while we’re stoned.” Seeing the mutinous look in his brother’s eyes, Sam peppered kisses across his face until his was giggling again. “At least not the first time. After that, you’re fair game.”
Unsurprisingly, Dean just kissed him back.