Untitled Coda for 4.06
Untitled Coda, 4.06 Yellow Fever
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1.955
Warnings: crack and fluff
Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fic. Everything is only made up by me and I'm making no profit with this story.
Beta: garvaldmains. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Notes: Okay, I know a Coda has to follow shortly after the actual episode, but this idea just came to me today and it's my first Coda I've ever written, so cut me some slack ;) Hope you enjoy.
Dean once heard of a guy that laid a fart under the covers of his bed and then suffocated on it to death, which is, quite frankly, utter bullshit. That couldn't possibly happen, right? You cannot suffucate because of your own gas. Impossible. Totally.
Dean sticks his nose out of the covers, just far enough to be safe. Not that he needs to be saved from his own farts, but, you know. The room's still dark and Sam's sleeping peacefully in the bed next to Dean's, back turned to him and snoring softly, so everything's right with the world. No need to be afraid.
Dean's exhausted and his eyes feel heavy, slipping shut every few seconds, but he just can't fall asleep. You can die in your sleep. Somehow, Dean never believed that this shit about Freddy Krueger and teenagers being murdered in their sleep was just a stupid horror movie. Oh, no. Sam's stupid to fall asleep like that, so Dean has to stay awake and watch out for him. It's only logical.
Besides, if he doesn't fall asleep, he can't fart involuntarily and suffocate on it. Jesus, why did he have to eat beans for dinner?
With one swift movement, Dean throws the covers back and they land on the floor with a soft rustling sound. He's lying there all night, shivering and cursing under his breath and looking out for Freddy Krueger to appear in the corner of the room, but that's okay.
Dean doesn't suffocate and Sam doesn't get killed in his sleep, so you can say it's a good night.
* * *
The world's full of crazy motherfuckers. People are afraid of demons and monsters and the apocalypse, when really they should be afraid of their neighbor. You can never know who's a serial killer and who is just the nice guy next door.
And that waitress had looked strangely at Dean when they entered the diner and no, it was not the look Dean usually got from hot and busty waitresses. It was very likely that she was out to poison one of the guests, just for fun or maybe because she didn't have anything else to do. Maybe she hadn't had any good sex in a long time and then, seeing Dean walking in, she had just known that he was a guy who very often had very good sex. She was clearly jealous of his sex life and she wanted to kill him, that's what it was.
“Does this steak look funny to you?” Dean asks, leaning over his plate and sniffing the juicy steak lying in front of him. Juicy. Yeah, right. That's probably some weird kind of poison dripping out of it. “It smells funny too. Don't you think?”
“Dean,” Sam says exasperated and okay, not the kindest reaction ever but Dean has to cut him some slack. Sam's probably still worried because that hobo down the street had looked just as weird at Dean like the waitress had done. That was just like Sam, always worrying too much. “Would you please just eat your steak and keep quiet? It doesn't look funny, it's perfectly okay.”
“No, it's not!” Dean's leaning over the table now, lowering his voice several notches to whisper, “She poisoned it. I'm sure.”
“Who?” Sam frowns, voice too loud and damn, the waitress could hear them and plot a new attack on Dean.
“Shhh! She can hear us!” Dean warns and shakes his head vehemently. “We need to get out of here, now. The waitress is trying to kill me, she poisoned my food because I have better sex than she has!”
Dean really doesn't care for the look on his brother's face right now.
“Dean,” Sam starts slowly and then sighs annoyed and just... Bastard. It's not like he's the one that's supposed to be poisoned here. Dean expects at least some kind of sympathy. “How about... How about you just take my salad and then we leave here and everything will be okay, yeah?”
And Dean's totally taking back the thing about Sam being a bastard, because his baby brother is a fucking genius. He just nodded and reached across the table to get Sam's plate when it hits him. She probably planned it. She knew Dean would suspect something and poisoned both of their dinners, just to make sure. Jesus.
“Did you already take a bite?” Dean asks, panic creeping into his voice and he doesn't even wait for Sam's confused 'Yeah, why?' before he's already grabbing him by the shoulders, dragging him up and to the bathroom, yelling at people to get out of the way. “Throw up! Now!”
Dean walks around with an empty stomach all day after that. Not to mention the bruise on his left cheek he got when he tried to force a finger down Sam's throat to help him along.
* * *
For all Dean knows, 10.000 people die in car crashes every day, all over the world. Okay, maybe that's a bit exaggerated. Then again, maybe it isn't. Maybe there are even more people dying in car crashes than it's officially known. Damn.
He's standing on the pavement, frozen to the spot, and stares at his baby parked across the street. The sun light's reflecting itself on the black surface, making her shine brightly and clean like it didn't in a long time, and wouldn't it just be fucking likely for a drunken jerk to drive his car into her? Dean can't let that happen, he just can't. He will cross the street and drive her around the corner, away from the busy street and to a quiet spot where nothing can happen to her.
He will totally do so. In a minute or so.
Suddenly Sam's standing beside him, clapping him on the shoulder to make his presence known and Dean will deny it through his teeth that he just flinched like he'd been shot. Damn it, doesn't Sam know that you can die of a heart attack just like that?
“Ready to go?” Sam asks as if everything's okay, as if he didn't just try to kill Dean by scaring him to death. Dean wants to tell Sam that he has to stop sneaking up on people like that, but Sam's already walking ahead of him and about to cross the street and suddenly Dean feels like he's freaking out.
The cars seem to drive even faster now, honking like mad men and just waiting for a careless person to walk right into the traffic and get hit by them. Oh, no. No way Dean will cross the street. But Sam's already across from him, opening the door on the passenger side of the Impala and Dean knows he has to risk his life to get to them, otherwise there will not only be a drunken jerk driving his car into his baby, but into his brother too.
Damn it, where's a traffic light when you need it?
Dean can see Sam looking at him impatiently over the top of the Impala, motioning for him to finally get his ass moving, but Dean doesn't feel like he's able to make his feet work. As soon as he'll make one step, a car will hit him, he just knows it.
Sam's rolling his eyes at him then, shutting the door again and crossing the street for a third time now and doesn't he know how dangerous that is? He's in front of Dean before he knows it, looking at him disbelievingly and shaking his head. “I can't believe you,” Sam's muttering under his breath, grasping Dean's hand in an iron-grip and just dragging him along with him.
And Dean's scared enough right now to not feel embarrassed, but to clasp his hand around Sam's and hold on just as tight, because it's soothing and reassuring and not girly when your life is in danger, and he only lets go when Sam wriggles his hand free after positioning Dean in the passenger seat.
* * *
If there's one thing that can take Dean's mind off of everything, including him dying because of a ghost sickness, then it's a round of good, mind blowing, the-ocean's-boiled-over-and-the-earth-started-moving sex. And, seeing as Dean should do porn he's that good in the sac, Sam can't really disagree with that plan, at least not for long.
He got them both naked and rubbing up against each other on the bed when it starts. More specifically, he's got Sam spread out and eager beneath him and he's crawling down his brother's body when it starts. Because, you know, the rumors about Sam's enormous dick are very, very true. Dean never was one to complain before, but... but Sam doesn't really expect Dean to suck him off now, does he?
What if Sam gets kind of lost in his passion or whatever you like to call it, and pushes his hips up while pushing Dean's head down? Usually, that's like, totally hot, but you could choke on a dick, right? There's no way in hell a guy gets enough oxygen while deep-throating someone. That's just impossible. Besides, if he's got Sam's cock that far down his throat and Sam can't hold it any longer - Can you drown in cum? Dean never gave this question much thought, but he's certainly doing so now.
Thankfully his brother isn't exactly dumb, so when Dean hesitates only a moment too long, he instantly feels hands grabbing his shoulders almost gently and dragging him back up so that they're face to face again. “You okay?” Sam asks a bit out of breath, skin flushed and voice raspy, but his gaze is clear and concerned when he looks at Dean.
And this totally has to be the most embarrassing moment in his entire life, because Dean suddenly stumbles over his own words, tongue too heavy to form a coherent sentence. “Is it.. are you.. could we just.. I..,” he stops himself before it gets too weird and he just knows, when this whole ghost sickness-shit is over, Sam will never ever let him live that one down.
But right now Sam's just smiling at him, even if it's a little mocking, and he rolls his eyes in fake annoyance. “Of course, you dumbass. Wouldn't want you to feel like you're being raped, anyway.”
Dean huffs out a laugh, both relieved and a bit undignified, and flops down next to his brother. He turns his head enough to look at Sam, then, who has his arms crossed under his head and is staring up at the ceiling. And because they're alone and Dean has to make it up to Sam, he rolls onto his side and slings an arm around Sam's middle, sliding a leg across his brother's waist and pushing his nose into the juncture between Sam's shoulder and neck. “One word about this..,” he mumbles warningly into the warm skin of Sam's neck, but he can't really find it in himself to care when his brother just laughs and drapes his arm over Dean.
“I really can't wait for this crap to be over,” he murmurs with a decent amount of self pity, but he closes his eyes nevertheless and wriggles a bit until he's more comfortable.
It takes Sam a moment to respond, though, and Dean's just about to crack one eye open again when his brother finally speaks. “Yeah, sure. Me too.”
And somehow, that didn't sound all too convincing, but Dean's too tired to care and for once he's not afraid of Freddy Krueger murdering him in his sleep. He's asleep before he can remember to throw back the covers in case he's in danger of suffocating again.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1.955
Warnings: crack and fluff
Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fic. Everything is only made up by me and I'm making no profit with this story.
Beta: garvaldmains. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Notes: Okay, I know a Coda has to follow shortly after the actual episode, but this idea just came to me today and it's my first Coda I've ever written, so cut me some slack ;) Hope you enjoy.
Dean once heard of a guy that laid a fart under the covers of his bed and then suffocated on it to death, which is, quite frankly, utter bullshit. That couldn't possibly happen, right? You cannot suffucate because of your own gas. Impossible. Totally.
Dean sticks his nose out of the covers, just far enough to be safe. Not that he needs to be saved from his own farts, but, you know. The room's still dark and Sam's sleeping peacefully in the bed next to Dean's, back turned to him and snoring softly, so everything's right with the world. No need to be afraid.
Dean's exhausted and his eyes feel heavy, slipping shut every few seconds, but he just can't fall asleep. You can die in your sleep. Somehow, Dean never believed that this shit about Freddy Krueger and teenagers being murdered in their sleep was just a stupid horror movie. Oh, no. Sam's stupid to fall asleep like that, so Dean has to stay awake and watch out for him. It's only logical.
Besides, if he doesn't fall asleep, he can't fart involuntarily and suffocate on it. Jesus, why did he have to eat beans for dinner?
With one swift movement, Dean throws the covers back and they land on the floor with a soft rustling sound. He's lying there all night, shivering and cursing under his breath and looking out for Freddy Krueger to appear in the corner of the room, but that's okay.
Dean doesn't suffocate and Sam doesn't get killed in his sleep, so you can say it's a good night.
* * *
The world's full of crazy motherfuckers. People are afraid of demons and monsters and the apocalypse, when really they should be afraid of their neighbor. You can never know who's a serial killer and who is just the nice guy next door.
And that waitress had looked strangely at Dean when they entered the diner and no, it was not the look Dean usually got from hot and busty waitresses. It was very likely that she was out to poison one of the guests, just for fun or maybe because she didn't have anything else to do. Maybe she hadn't had any good sex in a long time and then, seeing Dean walking in, she had just known that he was a guy who very often had very good sex. She was clearly jealous of his sex life and she wanted to kill him, that's what it was.
“Does this steak look funny to you?” Dean asks, leaning over his plate and sniffing the juicy steak lying in front of him. Juicy. Yeah, right. That's probably some weird kind of poison dripping out of it. “It smells funny too. Don't you think?”
“Dean,” Sam says exasperated and okay, not the kindest reaction ever but Dean has to cut him some slack. Sam's probably still worried because that hobo down the street had looked just as weird at Dean like the waitress had done. That was just like Sam, always worrying too much. “Would you please just eat your steak and keep quiet? It doesn't look funny, it's perfectly okay.”
“No, it's not!” Dean's leaning over the table now, lowering his voice several notches to whisper, “She poisoned it. I'm sure.”
“Who?” Sam frowns, voice too loud and damn, the waitress could hear them and plot a new attack on Dean.
“Shhh! She can hear us!” Dean warns and shakes his head vehemently. “We need to get out of here, now. The waitress is trying to kill me, she poisoned my food because I have better sex than she has!”
Dean really doesn't care for the look on his brother's face right now.
“Dean,” Sam starts slowly and then sighs annoyed and just... Bastard. It's not like he's the one that's supposed to be poisoned here. Dean expects at least some kind of sympathy. “How about... How about you just take my salad and then we leave here and everything will be okay, yeah?”
And Dean's totally taking back the thing about Sam being a bastard, because his baby brother is a fucking genius. He just nodded and reached across the table to get Sam's plate when it hits him. She probably planned it. She knew Dean would suspect something and poisoned both of their dinners, just to make sure. Jesus.
“Did you already take a bite?” Dean asks, panic creeping into his voice and he doesn't even wait for Sam's confused 'Yeah, why?' before he's already grabbing him by the shoulders, dragging him up and to the bathroom, yelling at people to get out of the way. “Throw up! Now!”
Dean walks around with an empty stomach all day after that. Not to mention the bruise on his left cheek he got when he tried to force a finger down Sam's throat to help him along.
* * *
For all Dean knows, 10.000 people die in car crashes every day, all over the world. Okay, maybe that's a bit exaggerated. Then again, maybe it isn't. Maybe there are even more people dying in car crashes than it's officially known. Damn.
He's standing on the pavement, frozen to the spot, and stares at his baby parked across the street. The sun light's reflecting itself on the black surface, making her shine brightly and clean like it didn't in a long time, and wouldn't it just be fucking likely for a drunken jerk to drive his car into her? Dean can't let that happen, he just can't. He will cross the street and drive her around the corner, away from the busy street and to a quiet spot where nothing can happen to her.
He will totally do so. In a minute or so.
Suddenly Sam's standing beside him, clapping him on the shoulder to make his presence known and Dean will deny it through his teeth that he just flinched like he'd been shot. Damn it, doesn't Sam know that you can die of a heart attack just like that?
“Ready to go?” Sam asks as if everything's okay, as if he didn't just try to kill Dean by scaring him to death. Dean wants to tell Sam that he has to stop sneaking up on people like that, but Sam's already walking ahead of him and about to cross the street and suddenly Dean feels like he's freaking out.
The cars seem to drive even faster now, honking like mad men and just waiting for a careless person to walk right into the traffic and get hit by them. Oh, no. No way Dean will cross the street. But Sam's already across from him, opening the door on the passenger side of the Impala and Dean knows he has to risk his life to get to them, otherwise there will not only be a drunken jerk driving his car into his baby, but into his brother too.
Damn it, where's a traffic light when you need it?
Dean can see Sam looking at him impatiently over the top of the Impala, motioning for him to finally get his ass moving, but Dean doesn't feel like he's able to make his feet work. As soon as he'll make one step, a car will hit him, he just knows it.
Sam's rolling his eyes at him then, shutting the door again and crossing the street for a third time now and doesn't he know how dangerous that is? He's in front of Dean before he knows it, looking at him disbelievingly and shaking his head. “I can't believe you,” Sam's muttering under his breath, grasping Dean's hand in an iron-grip and just dragging him along with him.
And Dean's scared enough right now to not feel embarrassed, but to clasp his hand around Sam's and hold on just as tight, because it's soothing and reassuring and not girly when your life is in danger, and he only lets go when Sam wriggles his hand free after positioning Dean in the passenger seat.
* * *
If there's one thing that can take Dean's mind off of everything, including him dying because of a ghost sickness, then it's a round of good, mind blowing, the-ocean's-boiled-over-and-the-earth-started-moving sex. And, seeing as Dean should do porn he's that good in the sac, Sam can't really disagree with that plan, at least not for long.
He got them both naked and rubbing up against each other on the bed when it starts. More specifically, he's got Sam spread out and eager beneath him and he's crawling down his brother's body when it starts. Because, you know, the rumors about Sam's enormous dick are very, very true. Dean never was one to complain before, but... but Sam doesn't really expect Dean to suck him off now, does he?
What if Sam gets kind of lost in his passion or whatever you like to call it, and pushes his hips up while pushing Dean's head down? Usually, that's like, totally hot, but you could choke on a dick, right? There's no way in hell a guy gets enough oxygen while deep-throating someone. That's just impossible. Besides, if he's got Sam's cock that far down his throat and Sam can't hold it any longer - Can you drown in cum? Dean never gave this question much thought, but he's certainly doing so now.
Thankfully his brother isn't exactly dumb, so when Dean hesitates only a moment too long, he instantly feels hands grabbing his shoulders almost gently and dragging him back up so that they're face to face again. “You okay?” Sam asks a bit out of breath, skin flushed and voice raspy, but his gaze is clear and concerned when he looks at Dean.
And this totally has to be the most embarrassing moment in his entire life, because Dean suddenly stumbles over his own words, tongue too heavy to form a coherent sentence. “Is it.. are you.. could we just.. I..,” he stops himself before it gets too weird and he just knows, when this whole ghost sickness-shit is over, Sam will never ever let him live that one down.
But right now Sam's just smiling at him, even if it's a little mocking, and he rolls his eyes in fake annoyance. “Of course, you dumbass. Wouldn't want you to feel like you're being raped, anyway.”
Dean huffs out a laugh, both relieved and a bit undignified, and flops down next to his brother. He turns his head enough to look at Sam, then, who has his arms crossed under his head and is staring up at the ceiling. And because they're alone and Dean has to make it up to Sam, he rolls onto his side and slings an arm around Sam's middle, sliding a leg across his brother's waist and pushing his nose into the juncture between Sam's shoulder and neck. “One word about this..,” he mumbles warningly into the warm skin of Sam's neck, but he can't really find it in himself to care when his brother just laughs and drapes his arm over Dean.
“I really can't wait for this crap to be over,” he murmurs with a decent amount of self pity, but he closes his eyes nevertheless and wriggles a bit until he's more comfortable.
It takes Sam a moment to respond, though, and Dean's just about to crack one eye open again when his brother finally speaks. “Yeah, sure. Me too.”
And somehow, that didn't sound all too convincing, but Dean's too tired to care and for once he's not afraid of Freddy Krueger murdering him in his sleep. He's asleep before he can remember to throw back the covers in case he's in danger of suffocating again.