Fic: 'Sundown's Gonna Catch Me' (Sam/Dean; PG-13)
I can't write angst right now. Everything’s coming out all comedic and porny. Excuse to watch AHBL again, y/y?
Sundown’s Gonna Catch Me
Sam/Dean
PG-13. 587 words. For smidgy06, original prompt: Sam/Dean, haunted barn.
References/semi-sequel to Starring Dean Winchester As The Other White Meat (Sam/Dean, R). All you need to know is that Dean gets turned into a pig in that story. And there is a case involving an old barn.
“This place looks familiar.”
“Huh.”
Sam elbows Dean, points up at the roof of the barn, the hay bales, old rusty equipment, cobwebs, mold, dust-he sneezes, wipes his nose on his sleeve. Sam makes a face when Dean gives him a “what?” look. It’s sundown, barely visible rays of sunlight peeking through the cracks between wood, illuminates the dust hanging in the air.
“Dean, this looks like the old barn we trashed that spirit in a few months back,” Sam says, holding his gun up as he moves across the lumpy straw covered ground. “Remember? The ugly farmer scarecrow thing?”
“Yeah, I remember.” Dean shakes his head, checking his sawed off shotgun. “Can’t forget a thing like that when I was the one who got turned into a pig. Idiot.”
Sam hesitates, Dean bumping into him accidentally. The wind whistles through the floorboards, walls, makes the hair on the back of Dean’s neck stand up. Sam shrugs when he turns to look back, says, “You were a pretty cute pig.”
“Yeah, well, so long as we both know you’re still the dirty pigfucker, I’m good,” Dean answers, pats Sam on the shoulder and moves around him. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not now, not when they’re working and he’s in a barn of all places. It makes him nervous, ‘cause what if it’s the right place for some weird magical flare-up and he gets all cursed again?
It was random last time, and now they’re going after a farm spirit and it’s Dean who happens to, you know, constantly get screwed over-and not in a fun, Sam involved way-to lead to his worry, these thoughts banging around in his brain.
He sneezes again, angrily pushes away a few cobwebs. “Can we waste this ghost and not take a walk down freaky-ass memory lane?”
“First of all, we didn’t have sex,” Sam says, all of a sudden more interested this instead of hunting one fugly spirit. Meanwhile, Dean takes the time to wipe his nose on his sleeve again, Sam adding dryly, “second, we’re in a haunted barn and you being you, I’m just pointing out the irony of the situation.”
Dean narrows his eyes. “Man, now I’m thinkin’ I really should have peed on your stuff.”
Sam hesitates, scratches the back of his neck. He lowers his gaze. “The spirit isn’t here. I did the banishing ritual while you slept in this morning.”
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“Then why the hell are we standin’ around here for, Sam?”
Sam looks up again, rolls his eyes. They’re gonna stay like that, comes the thought, right when Sam grabs Dean and kisses him hard. Dean grunts.
“So you want a roll in the hay, huh? You really are a dirty pigfucker,” Dean says, can’t help the delight in his voice, sentence cut short when the air goes out of him, Sam suddenly on top and straddling his waist.
Guns placed aside, bodies on the floor, Sam pushes his hands under Dean’s shirt. There’s hay sticking in his hair and the floor’s dusty and muddy and god knows Dean doesn’t want to think about whatever crap they might be rolling around in.
But he’s arching up, breath on Sam’s shoulder. Dean rests on his elbows, Sam’s hands on Dean’s chest, belly. Sam bites and sucks on Dean’s bottom lip while Dean’s gaze goes up, up, smiling against Sam’s mouth.
And hey, Dean’s never had sex in a (formerly) haunted barn. He’s always up for something new.
end
Sundown’s Gonna Catch Me
Sam/Dean
PG-13. 587 words. For smidgy06, original prompt: Sam/Dean, haunted barn.
References/semi-sequel to Starring Dean Winchester As The Other White Meat (Sam/Dean, R). All you need to know is that Dean gets turned into a pig in that story. And there is a case involving an old barn.
“This place looks familiar.”
“Huh.”
Sam elbows Dean, points up at the roof of the barn, the hay bales, old rusty equipment, cobwebs, mold, dust-he sneezes, wipes his nose on his sleeve. Sam makes a face when Dean gives him a “what?” look. It’s sundown, barely visible rays of sunlight peeking through the cracks between wood, illuminates the dust hanging in the air.
“Dean, this looks like the old barn we trashed that spirit in a few months back,” Sam says, holding his gun up as he moves across the lumpy straw covered ground. “Remember? The ugly farmer scarecrow thing?”
“Yeah, I remember.” Dean shakes his head, checking his sawed off shotgun. “Can’t forget a thing like that when I was the one who got turned into a pig. Idiot.”
Sam hesitates, Dean bumping into him accidentally. The wind whistles through the floorboards, walls, makes the hair on the back of Dean’s neck stand up. Sam shrugs when he turns to look back, says, “You were a pretty cute pig.”
“Yeah, well, so long as we both know you’re still the dirty pigfucker, I’m good,” Dean answers, pats Sam on the shoulder and moves around him. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not now, not when they’re working and he’s in a barn of all places. It makes him nervous, ‘cause what if it’s the right place for some weird magical flare-up and he gets all cursed again?
It was random last time, and now they’re going after a farm spirit and it’s Dean who happens to, you know, constantly get screwed over-and not in a fun, Sam involved way-to lead to his worry, these thoughts banging around in his brain.
He sneezes again, angrily pushes away a few cobwebs. “Can we waste this ghost and not take a walk down freaky-ass memory lane?”
“First of all, we didn’t have sex,” Sam says, all of a sudden more interested this instead of hunting one fugly spirit. Meanwhile, Dean takes the time to wipe his nose on his sleeve again, Sam adding dryly, “second, we’re in a haunted barn and you being you, I’m just pointing out the irony of the situation.”
Dean narrows his eyes. “Man, now I’m thinkin’ I really should have peed on your stuff.”
Sam hesitates, scratches the back of his neck. He lowers his gaze. “The spirit isn’t here. I did the banishing ritual while you slept in this morning.”
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“Then why the hell are we standin’ around here for, Sam?”
Sam looks up again, rolls his eyes. They’re gonna stay like that, comes the thought, right when Sam grabs Dean and kisses him hard. Dean grunts.
“So you want a roll in the hay, huh? You really are a dirty pigfucker,” Dean says, can’t help the delight in his voice, sentence cut short when the air goes out of him, Sam suddenly on top and straddling his waist.
Guns placed aside, bodies on the floor, Sam pushes his hands under Dean’s shirt. There’s hay sticking in his hair and the floor’s dusty and muddy and god knows Dean doesn’t want to think about whatever crap they might be rolling around in.
But he’s arching up, breath on Sam’s shoulder. Dean rests on his elbows, Sam’s hands on Dean’s chest, belly. Sam bites and sucks on Dean’s bottom lip while Dean’s gaze goes up, up, smiling against Sam’s mouth.
And hey, Dean’s never had sex in a (formerly) haunted barn. He’s always up for something new.
end