The Most Logical Thing (Dean/Sam), S6
Nov. 20th, 2010 10:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
runedgirlI posted this little ficlet in response to a great prompt over at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wanttobeatree's 'How the Winchesters Got Their Groove Back' commentficmeme. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sawedoff_recs was nice enough to rec it, which reminded me that I'd never even posted it here. LOL. RL = too busy!
Can I just say that I LOVED last night's ep? Oh Ben, why so brilliant? (Spoilers ahead...)
I wrote this before last nite, obviously, but was already kinda liking the almost-innocence of soulless!Sam -- even more after last night. And seriously, are Jared and Jensen comedic geniuses, or what? I laughed through half of the episode, and the rest of the time I was openmouthed exclaiming wait, did he just say.... I mean, 'Dean, did you service Oberon?' and 'the fourth is a butt thing' and Dean's frustrated 'Empathy, Sam!' Not to mention they played Davidfuckingbowie on SPN - in an homage to Xfiles. My fannish worlds past and present are colliding in a truly awesome fashion. :)
Anyway....ficlet....which came out sorta sweet with a side of slightly creepy. Much like Sam.
Title: The Most Logical Thing
Word count: 1090
Rating: R
Warnings: S6 spoilers
Apparently Sam’s soul was also the only thing keeping him from blurting out an alarming variety of disturbing admissions. He tells the waitress at the diner she has nice tits, big stupid grin on his big stupid face – she probably only refrains from slapping him because she thinks he’s an idiot. He mentions to Bobby that the couch they usually sleep on when they’re crashing with him smells like ass, then barely ducks in time to avoid the book predictably thrown at his head. Dean has to sleep in the car too that night, which is totally unfair, since he didn’t say anything. It probably didn’t help that Sam added a “Dean thinks so too” right before the book tossing thing happened.
“Do you have to say every stupid damn thing that comes into your head?” Dean groused when they finally closed the motel room door, leaving the clerk scratching her head over Sam’s overly detailed explanation of why Dean’s (fake) driver’s license didn’t match his (equally fake) credit card. “Way to make us look totally suspicious!”
Sam shrugged and sat down on the bed, wrinkling his brow at Dean in the annoying way he had of expressing his confusion at the overwhelming swirl of morals, norms and emotions that Dean kept trying to impose on him.
“I guess not,” he allowed.
“Good.” Dean shrugged out of his jacket and unbuttoned his overshirt, tossing it over a chair and unbuckling his belt to strip off his jeans. Sam kept staring at him, still wrinkling.
“What?” Dean demanded, flushing a bit under the close scrutiny. He ran his hands over his chest and patted down his jeans, wondering if he had something weird on him.
“I’m not saying what’s coming into my head right now,” Sam pronounced, with an unmistakable note of pride in his voice.
“Well good for you, IronMan,” Dean shot back, pulling down his zipper. Sam kept staring, brow still wrinkled. Dean kicked off his boots and slid out of his jeans, heading to the bathroom, but he could feel Sam’s eyes on him from behind. He spun around, exasperated.
“Fine!” he nearly shouted, and Sam startled where he still sat on the bed, eyes going wide. “If it’s that important, out with it.”
“Out with what?” Sam asked, as innocently as a man without a soul could.
“Out with whatever the hell you’re not saying, that’s what!”
“Oh,” Sam said, relaxing again. “I wasn’t saying what I was thinking just then when you started taking off your clothes.”
“Which was??” Dean’s voice went a little higher than usual. He sort of sounded like a preteen girl. An exasperated preteen girl.
“Oh,” Sam said again, and the wrinkle disappeared from his brow. “You want me to tell you.”
Dean squeaked and made impatient gestures in the air with both hands. “Yes, I fucking want you to tell me, for chrissakes Sam you’re driving me –
“I was thinking that you’re hotter than that waitress I wanted to fuck at the restaurant yesterday.”
Dean snapped his jaw shut, and his brow wrinkled. He stared at Sam every bit as hard as Sam had been staring at him. Sam took it as his cue to keep going.
“I was also thinking that I wanted to walk over there and grab you by the shoulders and get you backed up against the wall right there and kiss you within an inch of your life.”
Dean opened his mouth, but no words came out. Sam took it as his cue to keep going.
“And then I thought about how good it would feel to get my dick up against yours, see if you would get as hard as I am.”
Dean choked, and took a stumbling step backwards. “Sam,” he managed, sort of a mix of a cough and that preteen girl squeak again. “What are you saying?”
Sam shrugged. Dean wanted clarification; Sam understood that. It seemed he needed constant clarification recently, so he was happy to give that to Dean. He stood up and closed most of the distance between them with two long strides. Dean backed up again, smack against that wall Sam had mentioned. So he did understand some of it, obviously.
“I’m saying,” Sam explained patiently, “that I’ve been dying to get my hands on you for a very long time, and that I’ve been thinking about how much I want my dick in your ass, which by the way is the best ass I’ve ever seen in my whole life, bar none, male or female, yours is just perfect, and sometimes when I’m jerking off I think about –
“Sam!” Dean squawked, and his hands grabbed at Sam’s waist, fluttering there rather uselessly. Sam wasn’t sure what to make of that – maybe Dean needed more physical explanation. Sometimes words confused Sam too, recently. Sam pushed his hips forward, grinding his groin against his brother’s, groaning at the hot rush of pleasure the friction brought. Dean’s fingers dug into Sam’s sides, and he bucked a little before trying to make himself one with the wall.
“It’s simple,” Sam said, leaning in to mouth along Dean’s jaw, up the long line of his throat to his earlobe, which Sam had a suspicion was one of his brother’s hotspots. Dean breathed in a hoarse gasp, and his whole body shuddered against Sam’s. That seemed pretty clear.
“I want you, Dean. Always have.” Sam prodded his hard cock against Dean’s hip, rocked them together until he could feel the outline of Dean’s dick beginning to tent his boxers.
“You’re my brother,” Dean said, the words half smothered against Sam’s lips as Sam remembered that kissing Dean had been his first thought.
“Exactly,” Sam said, pleased that Dean had finally gotten it. He slid one hand down Dean’s firm chest and underneath the waistband of his underwear to wrap around his cock.
“But it’s not – that’s not – we’re not,” Dean sputtered, and then the words sort of dissolved into a string of oh oh ohhhh’s as Dean’s eyes fluttered closed.
“We are,” Sam assured his brother, his long fingers teasing, smearing the slick over the head of Dean’s dick, until Dean’s thighs trembled. “You love me, and the one thing I’ve always remembered is that I love you.”
Dean groaned and thrust forward against Sam. His hands wrapped around Sam’s straining body and grabbed the cheeks of his ass, hauling Sam up against him as they sucked on each other’s tongues, and Sam almost-smiled against his brother’s open mouth.
Clearly he’d explained things perfectly.
wanttobeatree's 'How the Winchesters Got Their Groove Back' commentficmeme. sawedoff_recs was nice enough to rec it, which reminded me that I'd never even posted it here. LOL. RL = too busy!Can I just say that I LOVED last night's ep? Oh Ben, why so brilliant? (Spoilers ahead...)
I wrote this before last nite, obviously, but was already kinda liking the almost-innocence of soulless!Sam -- even more after last night. And seriously, are Jared and Jensen comedic geniuses, or what? I laughed through half of the episode, and the rest of the time I was openmouthed exclaiming wait, did he just say.... I mean, 'Dean, did you service Oberon?' and 'the fourth is a butt thing' and Dean's frustrated 'Empathy, Sam!' Not to mention they played Davidfuckingbowie on SPN - in an homage to Xfiles. My fannish worlds past and present are colliding in a truly awesome fashion. :)
Anyway....ficlet....which came out sorta sweet with a side of slightly creepy. Much like Sam.
Title: The Most Logical Thing
Word count: 1090
Rating: R
Warnings: S6 spoilers
Apparently Sam’s soul was also the only thing keeping him from blurting out an alarming variety of disturbing admissions. He tells the waitress at the diner she has nice tits, big stupid grin on his big stupid face – she probably only refrains from slapping him because she thinks he’s an idiot. He mentions to Bobby that the couch they usually sleep on when they’re crashing with him smells like ass, then barely ducks in time to avoid the book predictably thrown at his head. Dean has to sleep in the car too that night, which is totally unfair, since he didn’t say anything. It probably didn’t help that Sam added a “Dean thinks so too” right before the book tossing thing happened.
“Do you have to say every stupid damn thing that comes into your head?” Dean groused when they finally closed the motel room door, leaving the clerk scratching her head over Sam’s overly detailed explanation of why Dean’s (fake) driver’s license didn’t match his (equally fake) credit card. “Way to make us look totally suspicious!”
Sam shrugged and sat down on the bed, wrinkling his brow at Dean in the annoying way he had of expressing his confusion at the overwhelming swirl of morals, norms and emotions that Dean kept trying to impose on him.
“I guess not,” he allowed.
“Good.” Dean shrugged out of his jacket and unbuttoned his overshirt, tossing it over a chair and unbuckling his belt to strip off his jeans. Sam kept staring at him, still wrinkling.
“What?” Dean demanded, flushing a bit under the close scrutiny. He ran his hands over his chest and patted down his jeans, wondering if he had something weird on him.
“I’m not saying what’s coming into my head right now,” Sam pronounced, with an unmistakable note of pride in his voice.
“Well good for you, IronMan,” Dean shot back, pulling down his zipper. Sam kept staring, brow still wrinkled. Dean kicked off his boots and slid out of his jeans, heading to the bathroom, but he could feel Sam’s eyes on him from behind. He spun around, exasperated.
“Fine!” he nearly shouted, and Sam startled where he still sat on the bed, eyes going wide. “If it’s that important, out with it.”
“Out with what?” Sam asked, as innocently as a man without a soul could.
“Out with whatever the hell you’re not saying, that’s what!”
“Oh,” Sam said, relaxing again. “I wasn’t saying what I was thinking just then when you started taking off your clothes.”
“Which was??” Dean’s voice went a little higher than usual. He sort of sounded like a preteen girl. An exasperated preteen girl.
“Oh,” Sam said again, and the wrinkle disappeared from his brow. “You want me to tell you.”
Dean squeaked and made impatient gestures in the air with both hands. “Yes, I fucking want you to tell me, for chrissakes Sam you’re driving me –
“I was thinking that you’re hotter than that waitress I wanted to fuck at the restaurant yesterday.”
Dean snapped his jaw shut, and his brow wrinkled. He stared at Sam every bit as hard as Sam had been staring at him. Sam took it as his cue to keep going.
“I was also thinking that I wanted to walk over there and grab you by the shoulders and get you backed up against the wall right there and kiss you within an inch of your life.”
Dean opened his mouth, but no words came out. Sam took it as his cue to keep going.
“And then I thought about how good it would feel to get my dick up against yours, see if you would get as hard as I am.”
Dean choked, and took a stumbling step backwards. “Sam,” he managed, sort of a mix of a cough and that preteen girl squeak again. “What are you saying?”
Sam shrugged. Dean wanted clarification; Sam understood that. It seemed he needed constant clarification recently, so he was happy to give that to Dean. He stood up and closed most of the distance between them with two long strides. Dean backed up again, smack against that wall Sam had mentioned. So he did understand some of it, obviously.
“I’m saying,” Sam explained patiently, “that I’ve been dying to get my hands on you for a very long time, and that I’ve been thinking about how much I want my dick in your ass, which by the way is the best ass I’ve ever seen in my whole life, bar none, male or female, yours is just perfect, and sometimes when I’m jerking off I think about –
“Sam!” Dean squawked, and his hands grabbed at Sam’s waist, fluttering there rather uselessly. Sam wasn’t sure what to make of that – maybe Dean needed more physical explanation. Sometimes words confused Sam too, recently. Sam pushed his hips forward, grinding his groin against his brother’s, groaning at the hot rush of pleasure the friction brought. Dean’s fingers dug into Sam’s sides, and he bucked a little before trying to make himself one with the wall.
“It’s simple,” Sam said, leaning in to mouth along Dean’s jaw, up the long line of his throat to his earlobe, which Sam had a suspicion was one of his brother’s hotspots. Dean breathed in a hoarse gasp, and his whole body shuddered against Sam’s. That seemed pretty clear.
“I want you, Dean. Always have.” Sam prodded his hard cock against Dean’s hip, rocked them together until he could feel the outline of Dean’s dick beginning to tent his boxers.
“You’re my brother,” Dean said, the words half smothered against Sam’s lips as Sam remembered that kissing Dean had been his first thought.
“Exactly,” Sam said, pleased that Dean had finally gotten it. He slid one hand down Dean’s firm chest and underneath the waistband of his underwear to wrap around his cock.
“But it’s not – that’s not – we’re not,” Dean sputtered, and then the words sort of dissolved into a string of oh oh ohhhh’s as Dean’s eyes fluttered closed.
“We are,” Sam assured his brother, his long fingers teasing, smearing the slick over the head of Dean’s dick, until Dean’s thighs trembled. “You love me, and the one thing I’ve always remembered is that I love you.”
Dean groaned and thrust forward against Sam. His hands wrapped around Sam’s straining body and grabbed the cheeks of his ass, hauling Sam up against him as they sucked on each other’s tongues, and Sam almost-smiled against his brother’s open mouth.
Clearly he’d explained things perfectly.
