Water balloons and days at the pool
Title: Growing up
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG13
Words: about 280
Disclaimer: Not mine. Damn.
Growing up’s a hard thing to do when your childhood’s permanently around you, sleeping in the bed only an arm’s length away, babbling in his sleep like back in the days, riding beside you in your big boy’s car and gluing your hand to beer bottles.
And right now, as the water-filled condom bursts only inches beside your bowed head and leaves a big wet stain on the dingy floral motel wallpaper, you think that maybe it’s a good thing you and your brother never grew older than 12. Not really, anyway.
Cause, damned, there are about a thousand other things you could get up to with your baby brother and a family size package (no pun intended) of rubbers. But all Sam does is giggling like a kid while he throws the improvised water bombs at you and you laugh and call him names and dig yourself in behind your bed, your clothes damp and a big bruise forming on your chest where you got hit by the first strike.
When Sam runs out of ammunition, you attack him, taking revenge by wrestling him down and tickling him until tears are running down his cheeks.
You lie on the floor in the small space between your queens, your relaxed body on top of Sam’s, legs still entangled, and try to even your breathing. You know you should move but you can’t bring yourself to care and just star down on Sam and he stares back, eyes wide and suddenly serious.
You’re twelve all over again, uncertain and nervous, swallowing hard around the dry lump in your throat, and you know that this kiss will be the only first kiss in your life that really counts.
Title: Drown your jealousy
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG13
Words: about 900
Disclaimer: Not mine. Damn.
Summary: Jack and Ianto visit the local public pool. Ianto’s not amused.
10:30 am - Buying bathing trunks for Jack at the little shop at the entrance of the public pool. No skinny-dipping for little Jack. Big Jack pouts.
10:37 am - Nearly hitting Jack when he laughs at you because of your trunks. Pinstripes are a perfectly acceptable choice for a grown man’s bathing costume and you won’t let your excellent style be spoiled by a fashionably challenged brat who’s wearing suspenders. You won’t.
11:45 am - Finally finding a place that suits Jack. It’s close to a garbage can and in the blazing sun but damn the view of the pool attendant and his spectacular abs is terrific and you aren’t jealous at all. You’ve got great abs, too and if you suck in your soft white belly it’s unconsciously.
13:15 pm - You must have dozed off because you are woken up by the sound of your pale Welsh skin sizzling in the red hot midday sun while it begins to blister. You suppose you look like a lobster. You certainly feel like one, right after being cooked alive.
Jack’s lying right beside you, happily eye-fucking the attendant at the other side of the pool and stark naked. His cock is half-hard and you stare unreasonably long at the seductive piece of flesh before you talk Jack into slipping into his trunks again so security won’t throw you out and you are not - I repeat - not jealous.
13:24 pm - Going for a swim. When you pass the children’s pool, you can barely stop Jack from pissing his name into the basin. You wonder if he’s drunk or just Jack and raise a critical eyebrow when he claims to have seen a pump that added actual water to the pool and that he just wanted to help to maintain the natural proportions of water, chlorine and urine in a children’s pool. You screw up your nose and swear to yourself that you’ll never go in any public pool ever again.
13:35 pm - Still grossed out, you sit on a bench in the shadows but close to the pool, watching Jack as he swims laps, fast and gracefully, strong muscles dancing beneath smooth, surprisingly tanned skin. Showing off, the vain little fucker. You watch the sexy pool attendant who watches Jack and inconspicuously adjusts his crotch behind the ridiculous clipboard he’s carrying around. Its such a cliché. You finally apply sunscreen on your burning skin and congratulate yourself because you’re 100 % jealousy-free.
14:30 pm - Jack leaves the pool. His trunks don’t.
14:32 pm - You tell him and he smirks, wriggling his ass. His cock sways a little and you realize that you’re hungry.
14:35 pm - Jack’s back in the pool, pretending to look for his bathing drawers. They seem to have vanished and so Jack has to dive deep to look for them. He takes his time, like five minutes, before he reappears on the surface, face down, playing dead man.
14:41 pm - Mr. suburbian Baywatch for the rescue. You sigh and are ashamed on Jack’s stead. It’s pathetic, pretending to be able to actually drown - or die, for that matter - and then let yourself be rescued. O.K., it’s mocking, if not blackmail, material for months, Captain Jack Harkness playing the aquatic damsel in distress but then again, you’ve always known that Jack’s shameless. And you don’t care. At all. Huh.
16:20 pm - You stuff your glowing red face and your increasingly round belly with chips and sweets and it’s not a displacement activity at all. You’re just hungry. And not angry or anything. Of course it’s horribly impolite of Jack to be gone for more than half an hour by now, sure as hell fucking the piss-poor replacement of a proper life guard into next week to show his gratefulness, but that doesn’t bug you at all.
16:30 pm - O.K., maybe a little. But just because it insults your good breeding and proper manners in general. You’re sure a superior should be an impeccable example. Snickering humourlessly, you bite into a Hot Dog. Yeah, screw that.
16:37 pm - Your skin begins to peel. Your sanity, too. But that’s got nothing to do with that bloody bastard of a cheating, fornicating, exhibitionistic excuse of a boss and his vulgar- your mobile rings and startles you from your completely sensible musings. You don’t know the number but you answer anyway.
“Ianto?”, Jack asks, barely intelligible because of the poor reception. “You gotta help us. We kinda got stuck here, in the installation room and the key’s left outside so… damn, calm down, O.K.?!”, Jack yells, though not at Ianto. There’s another male voice, screaming and cursing. “Ianto? You’re still there? Fuck, the guy’s panicking and the batterie’s low so please-”
You grin broadly. The skin of your face aches badly when you do but damned, there is a God. Locked yourself in with Mr. claustrophobic six-pack, huh? And his useless cell phone?
“Jack? Jack?” you ask a little too loud, “I hardly understand you. What did you say? Oh, doesn’t matter, I see. No prob, boss, I take the car, O.K? Have fu-“ and before you can finish your sentence, the connection breaks.
16:40 pm - Packing. The average human male can survive three days without water. Jack, well, forever. So, no need to hurry. You whistle cheerfully when you leave the public pool, happy to finally not being jealous at all. And this time for real.