(no subject)
Title: MFEO
Author: ficliously
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Um.. R? PG-13?
Warnings: Kissin', underage drinking? WINCEST! (yay!)
Word Count: 1320
Summary: Dean is drunk and stupid and Sammy is young and stupid and John is just stupid.
Notes: Okay, so I wrote this a LONG time ago. As in, like, last spring. And there is so much more to this fic in my head but I seriously doubt I will ever write it down. It's supposed to go all the way until Sam walks out to go to Stanford, but, well... oh, well. Have this instead. Feedback is adored, crit, concrit, nonconcrit, anything! Tell me if you hated it because you hate my face! I don't care! I'll love you for it! :D
"What're you, fifteen?"
"You know how old I am, Dean." Sam doesn't look at him, but Dean laughs anyway.
"And you never even had a sip? Jesus, you're so pure it makes me sick!" He chuckles again and takes a swig of the beer cradled between wide legs. He shifts on the bed - he made Sam take the one with the unidentifiable stain - and offers the bottle toward the other double. "You wanna?"
Sam looks up then, at Dean's arm outstretched, at the amber bottle dangling from forefinger and thumb. Dean's completely conscious of how he looks right now, relaxed and happy and offering his little brother a taste of sin.
"Dad wouldn't-" Sam says and snaps his mouth shut. Dean doesn't think about the fight earlier, before Dad left, or the look on Sam's face. He smiles too wide and Sam's eyes darken. "Yeah, okay."
"Come're, Sammy." Dean pats the bed next to him. Sam moves gingerly, like he's still afraid even though Dad is a good fifty miles away by now and he knows it. Dean watches languidly as he perches on the edge of the bed, not touching his brother, barely touching the coverlet. Dean laughs again, loving the look of annoyance that darts across Sam's face. "Hey there, prissy little lady."
"Shut the hell up, Dean." Sam makes a swipe for the beer but Dean is faster. Sam's eyes narrow. "Come on, don't be an asshole."
"Woah, now, watch that pretty little mouth of yours. That's no way for a lady to speak now, is it?"
"Shut your goddamn mouth." Sam punches him in the arm, the way they always do but harder. He's gangly, but he's growing. That punch is probably harder than he knows. Dean only laughs again.
"You gonna take it from me, then? Think you can do it?"
"Damn right I can!" And now Sam's getting into it, the sadness completely cleared away by this new challenge. Dean feels a coil of tension unknot itself across his shoulders.
"Don't think so, baby bro."
Sam makes another half-assed play for the bottle, easily avoided. "I so could, dickwad."
"Not like that, you couldn't," Dean says reasonably. "Gonna have to try a little harder, huh, Sammy?"
And then Sam's on him, all bangs and overlong limbs and baggy hand-me-downs.
"Hey - Sam!" Dean's voice is a little muffled; his face is currently covered by Sam torso as he struggles to reach the bottle Dean's taunting him with at the end of a long arm. "Get offa me!" He tries to force Sam off, but Sam is only momentarily deterred, sliding down Dean's body a bit before scrambling back up towards the prize again. Dean's not laughing anymore. When did the kid get so damn heavy? "Seriously Sam." Dean pokes his head out from under Sam to get some air. "Get the hell off me."
"Gimme the goddamn bottle then!" Sam says, a little breathless. He pushes at Dean again, forces his way a little further up his body, and Dean falls back under the onslaught of Sam.
"Dude, you really gotta watch that mouth. Where'd ya learn to talk like that, anyway?" Dean's a little out of breath, too. Sam may look all skin and bones but somewhere under the ill-fitting clothes is a lotta muscle no one would suspect is there. Dean's finding out first hand.
"You." Sam strains a little further before giving up. Instead he straddles Dean across the middle, toes hanging off the edge of the bed. When Dean tries to buck him off, Sam just rides the waves and laughs. "Not such a tough guy now, huh?"
Dean struggles for a minute longer before dropping his head back to the bed, closing his eyes. "You want it that bad?"
"I want you to shut your mouth." Sam wiggles a little to make a point. Dean's mouth is strangely dry.
"What's it worth to you?"
Sam laughs out loud - he's in a much better mood now he has the upper hand. "You're in no position to bargain, man. You should be asking me for things."
"Nah, I'm good right here. Comfy, actually." Dean moves a little to get more comfortable on the lumpy mattress and hears a sharp intake of breath from above. "What's that Sammy?" He grins and squirms a bit more.
"N-Nothing," Sam says and takes a breath. "So what're you gonna give me to let you up?"
"Oh, I dunno," Dean says, shifting again and settling an arm under his head for a better angle to see Sam. His face is a dull red now and he looks like he's concentrating really hard on not getting up and running away. Dean already had a couple drinks earlier - right after Dad left - and Sam's hair shines and blurs faintly around the ends in the lamplight. Soft, Dean thinks, and laughs.
"What?" Sam asks, the glower threatening to reappear.
"Nothing," Dean says and sets the bottle on his stomach, right in front of Sam's crotch. "Here, take it. Be a man."
Sam's blush deepens and he hesitates an instant before grabbing the bottle.
Dean watches through half-closed eyes as his baby brother empties his bottle. Sam's first.
Sam pulls a face and Dean laughs again, can't help the giddy bubble that forces its way out. He snatches the empty bottle back and drops it, listens to it roll away across the sticky floor. Sam aims his grimace down at his brother, then cracks up laughing, too. Dean takes advantage of his momentary distraction and heaves.
Sam is breathless, surprised, doesn't even try to fight back. Dean pins him, they're both lying on the bed now, Sam's legs caught beneath his brother's. He's confused for a moment while his brain recovers, and then he smiles, his eyes shining. Happy.
"Dean?" A shadow across his face and Dean doesn't know what to say. Sam's uncertain now, eyes narrowed, obscured. Dean hesitates, then smiles lazy at him.
"So what are you gonna give me to let you up, Sammy?"
Dean's laugh turns to a gasp when Sam's nose crashes into his cheek. "What the fuck, Sam?" He drops to one elbow and rolls to the side. "What the hell was that?"
Dean can practically feel the waves of embarrassment rolling off his freak of a brother. He rubs at his face, not wanting to look at Sam, see the hurt in his eyes. He doesn't know what the fuck just happened. "'M sorry," Sam mutters, "I thought-" He stops, takes a breath, and Dean really kind of wants to kick his own ass right now. Sam sighs and makes to get off the bed. The cold air that rushes to fill his empty space makes Dean ache.
"Wait-" Dean catches his arm before he can go too far. "Jesus, you really are a giant dork, aren't you?" Sam looks uncertain for minute, but then Dean smiles wide, the kind of grin he usually reserves for those nights Dad lets him take the Impala out for a spin alone, and Sam's eyes soften into a quiet Sammy smile.
"And you really are a huge jackass, aren't you?" Dean laughs and Sam's eyes sparkle and the room is warm again.
"Yup." And then Dean pulls, and Sam comes, and everything is okay because Dad is far away and the lights are on and the bedspread probably hasn't been washed in years and this is Sam--Sam, who always fits just right next to Dean on the motel bed. Little Sammy, who only ever kissed Jenny Clark, in the stairwell after third period. Sammy, who pushes into Dean's mouth just like he's always been in Dean's space, like he fucking belongs there, like he deserves this. This is Sam and Dean is drunk and Sam breaks the kiss to turn out the lights and then there is just soft and skin and muffled darkness.
end
This was inspired the song MFEO by Jack's Mannequin.
I swim across an ocean
It's my matress in the basement
I'm sweatin' out excuses
That would make your stomach turn
The road we drove last night
Stretched from the desert to Las Vegas
We filled our cups, and lit one up
The snow began to burn
Oh, Oh maybe, we were made
We were made for each other
Ahh, is it possible for the
World to look this way forever?
I talked so much, I'm sure
I didn't realize I'd gone crazy
Didn't catch my bloody nose
Or that my heart tried to explode
I still live with my High School friends
Some people never change at all
We're still the same compulsive drunks
We were when we were small
(Someone get this man to a hospital!)
Ohh, maybe, we were made
We were made for each other
Ahh, is it possible for the
World to look this way forever?
A long (a long) way from from a firework daze
But i still like to burn, burn, burn
I'm always (I'm always) in the haze of a car crash
The orange airbag dust covers everything
Oh, everything
And maybe, we were made
We were made for each other
Ahh, is it possible for the
World to look this way forever?
Author: ficliously
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Um.. R? PG-13?
Warnings: Kissin', underage drinking? WINCEST! (yay!)
Word Count: 1320
Summary: Dean is drunk and stupid and Sammy is young and stupid and John is just stupid.
Notes: Okay, so I wrote this a LONG time ago. As in, like, last spring. And there is so much more to this fic in my head but I seriously doubt I will ever write it down. It's supposed to go all the way until Sam walks out to go to Stanford, but, well... oh, well. Have this instead. Feedback is adored, crit, concrit, nonconcrit, anything! Tell me if you hated it because you hate my face! I don't care! I'll love you for it! :D
"What're you, fifteen?"
"You know how old I am, Dean." Sam doesn't look at him, but Dean laughs anyway.
"And you never even had a sip? Jesus, you're so pure it makes me sick!" He chuckles again and takes a swig of the beer cradled between wide legs. He shifts on the bed - he made Sam take the one with the unidentifiable stain - and offers the bottle toward the other double. "You wanna?"
Sam looks up then, at Dean's arm outstretched, at the amber bottle dangling from forefinger and thumb. Dean's completely conscious of how he looks right now, relaxed and happy and offering his little brother a taste of sin.
"Dad wouldn't-" Sam says and snaps his mouth shut. Dean doesn't think about the fight earlier, before Dad left, or the look on Sam's face. He smiles too wide and Sam's eyes darken. "Yeah, okay."
"Come're, Sammy." Dean pats the bed next to him. Sam moves gingerly, like he's still afraid even though Dad is a good fifty miles away by now and he knows it. Dean watches languidly as he perches on the edge of the bed, not touching his brother, barely touching the coverlet. Dean laughs again, loving the look of annoyance that darts across Sam's face. "Hey there, prissy little lady."
"Shut the hell up, Dean." Sam makes a swipe for the beer but Dean is faster. Sam's eyes narrow. "Come on, don't be an asshole."
"Woah, now, watch that pretty little mouth of yours. That's no way for a lady to speak now, is it?"
"Shut your goddamn mouth." Sam punches him in the arm, the way they always do but harder. He's gangly, but he's growing. That punch is probably harder than he knows. Dean only laughs again.
"You gonna take it from me, then? Think you can do it?"
"Damn right I can!" And now Sam's getting into it, the sadness completely cleared away by this new challenge. Dean feels a coil of tension unknot itself across his shoulders.
"Don't think so, baby bro."
Sam makes another half-assed play for the bottle, easily avoided. "I so could, dickwad."
"Not like that, you couldn't," Dean says reasonably. "Gonna have to try a little harder, huh, Sammy?"
And then Sam's on him, all bangs and overlong limbs and baggy hand-me-downs.
"Hey - Sam!" Dean's voice is a little muffled; his face is currently covered by Sam torso as he struggles to reach the bottle Dean's taunting him with at the end of a long arm. "Get offa me!" He tries to force Sam off, but Sam is only momentarily deterred, sliding down Dean's body a bit before scrambling back up towards the prize again. Dean's not laughing anymore. When did the kid get so damn heavy? "Seriously Sam." Dean pokes his head out from under Sam to get some air. "Get the hell off me."
"Gimme the goddamn bottle then!" Sam says, a little breathless. He pushes at Dean again, forces his way a little further up his body, and Dean falls back under the onslaught of Sam.
"Dude, you really gotta watch that mouth. Where'd ya learn to talk like that, anyway?" Dean's a little out of breath, too. Sam may look all skin and bones but somewhere under the ill-fitting clothes is a lotta muscle no one would suspect is there. Dean's finding out first hand.
"You." Sam strains a little further before giving up. Instead he straddles Dean across the middle, toes hanging off the edge of the bed. When Dean tries to buck him off, Sam just rides the waves and laughs. "Not such a tough guy now, huh?"
Dean struggles for a minute longer before dropping his head back to the bed, closing his eyes. "You want it that bad?"
"I want you to shut your mouth." Sam wiggles a little to make a point. Dean's mouth is strangely dry.
"What's it worth to you?"
Sam laughs out loud - he's in a much better mood now he has the upper hand. "You're in no position to bargain, man. You should be asking me for things."
"Nah, I'm good right here. Comfy, actually." Dean moves a little to get more comfortable on the lumpy mattress and hears a sharp intake of breath from above. "What's that Sammy?" He grins and squirms a bit more.
"N-Nothing," Sam says and takes a breath. "So what're you gonna give me to let you up?"
"Oh, I dunno," Dean says, shifting again and settling an arm under his head for a better angle to see Sam. His face is a dull red now and he looks like he's concentrating really hard on not getting up and running away. Dean already had a couple drinks earlier - right after Dad left - and Sam's hair shines and blurs faintly around the ends in the lamplight. Soft, Dean thinks, and laughs.
"What?" Sam asks, the glower threatening to reappear.
"Nothing," Dean says and sets the bottle on his stomach, right in front of Sam's crotch. "Here, take it. Be a man."
Sam's blush deepens and he hesitates an instant before grabbing the bottle.
Dean watches through half-closed eyes as his baby brother empties his bottle. Sam's first.
Sam pulls a face and Dean laughs again, can't help the giddy bubble that forces its way out. He snatches the empty bottle back and drops it, listens to it roll away across the sticky floor. Sam aims his grimace down at his brother, then cracks up laughing, too. Dean takes advantage of his momentary distraction and heaves.
Sam is breathless, surprised, doesn't even try to fight back. Dean pins him, they're both lying on the bed now, Sam's legs caught beneath his brother's. He's confused for a moment while his brain recovers, and then he smiles, his eyes shining. Happy.
"Dean?" A shadow across his face and Dean doesn't know what to say. Sam's uncertain now, eyes narrowed, obscured. Dean hesitates, then smiles lazy at him.
"So what are you gonna give me to let you up, Sammy?"
Dean's laugh turns to a gasp when Sam's nose crashes into his cheek. "What the fuck, Sam?" He drops to one elbow and rolls to the side. "What the hell was that?"
Dean can practically feel the waves of embarrassment rolling off his freak of a brother. He rubs at his face, not wanting to look at Sam, see the hurt in his eyes. He doesn't know what the fuck just happened. "'M sorry," Sam mutters, "I thought-" He stops, takes a breath, and Dean really kind of wants to kick his own ass right now. Sam sighs and makes to get off the bed. The cold air that rushes to fill his empty space makes Dean ache.
"Wait-" Dean catches his arm before he can go too far. "Jesus, you really are a giant dork, aren't you?" Sam looks uncertain for minute, but then Dean smiles wide, the kind of grin he usually reserves for those nights Dad lets him take the Impala out for a spin alone, and Sam's eyes soften into a quiet Sammy smile.
"And you really are a huge jackass, aren't you?" Dean laughs and Sam's eyes sparkle and the room is warm again.
"Yup." And then Dean pulls, and Sam comes, and everything is okay because Dad is far away and the lights are on and the bedspread probably hasn't been washed in years and this is Sam--Sam, who always fits just right next to Dean on the motel bed. Little Sammy, who only ever kissed Jenny Clark, in the stairwell after third period. Sammy, who pushes into Dean's mouth just like he's always been in Dean's space, like he fucking belongs there, like he deserves this. This is Sam and Dean is drunk and Sam breaks the kiss to turn out the lights and then there is just soft and skin and muffled darkness.
end
This was inspired the song MFEO by Jack's Mannequin.
I swim across an ocean
It's my matress in the basement
I'm sweatin' out excuses
That would make your stomach turn
The road we drove last night
Stretched from the desert to Las Vegas
We filled our cups, and lit one up
The snow began to burn
Oh, Oh maybe, we were made
We were made for each other
Ahh, is it possible for the
World to look this way forever?
I talked so much, I'm sure
I didn't realize I'd gone crazy
Didn't catch my bloody nose
Or that my heart tried to explode
I still live with my High School friends
Some people never change at all
We're still the same compulsive drunks
We were when we were small
(Someone get this man to a hospital!)
Ohh, maybe, we were made
We were made for each other
Ahh, is it possible for the
World to look this way forever?
A long (a long) way from from a firework daze
But i still like to burn, burn, burn
I'm always (I'm always) in the haze of a car crash
The orange airbag dust covers everything
Oh, everything
And maybe, we were made
We were made for each other
Ahh, is it possible for the
World to look this way forever?