Your Time Is Gonna Come (Dean/Sam: NC-17)
I finally finished this. Woot!
Title: Your Time Is Gonna Come
Author: mgbutterfly
Rating: NC-17 (for some almost sex)
Pairings: Dean/Sam (Wincest! Woot!)
Disclaimer: Uh, I wish I owned these boys. As it is, they own me. So... not mine, I make no money, just for fun, please don't sue.
Summary: "You remember that time you got stuck in that old fridge? You know, the one in the abandoned house down the street from that apartment complex we lived in when you were, like, eight?"
Sam stared at Dean, not really sure how to reply. He was pretty sure he'd never been stuck in a fridge before.
Beta!Bitch:barkeep. That's right. I coaxed her out of her internet exile with the promise of back rubs, chocolate and alcohol. Works every time. She's a whore easy like that, yo.
A/N: A HUGE thank you to sweeneybird, regala_electra and heelzebub for stepping up and getting my muse to tickle my brain a bit. This is for you guys. I'm sorry if it sucks. It's still for you. *g*
Also, this was written for spn_dailylife. My prompt was Fridge. Title comes from the Led Zeppelin song of the same name. Because that's what I was listening to, and it seemed to fit, and I'm really bad at titles. Yeah. And? Cross Posted liek whoa!
Sam walked into the kitchenette of the room they were renting for the month. They didn't usually stay in one place for this long, but this hunt was going to take a lot of research and lots of careful planning.
He padded along on his bare feet to the small refrigerator on the counter top, nestled between the wall and a mini microwave. He opened the dingy door to pull out the carton of milk for some cereal and was overwhelmed by the odor of what he could only imagine was a dead nuckalevee. Pulling the milk out, Sam opened the carton and took a good sniff before putting it to his lips. He took a long swig and set it down on the counter before pulling the box of Sugar Pops and a bowl out of one of the cabinets.
Sam was well into his second bowl of cereal when Dean came walking out of the bedroom all bleary-eyed and groggy. Sam watched as Dean opened the fridge and pulled out one of the many Chinese food containers. Sam watched as Dean opened the little white box and stuck his nose practically into the food in the container. A second later, Dean's head came up out of the Chinese food so fast Sam thought his neck might snap. The look on Dean's face was a mix of nausea and pride as he closed the box and stuck it back in the fridge. Sam snickered from where he sat at the table but his amusement quickly turned to annoyance as he realized Dean's process.
"Hey! Don't you think you should throw that one away?" Sam asked as Dean replaced a second container in the fridge.
"Why would I do that? Might eat it later." Dean pulled out a third box and, upon the completion of his sniff test, decided it was good enough. He walked the few steps to the table to join Sam for the morning meal.
"I don't know, genius. Maybe because it's gone rancid? I can't believe you would actually consider eating any of that shit. It smells like something died in that fridge," Sam said around a mouthful of Sugar Pops.
"Dude. That stuff's perfectly fine. It's not growing anything, and the longer it sits, the more flavor it has."
Dean's grin was positively infuriating.
Sam shook his head and finished off the last of his cereal. Going back to the fridge, he replaced the milk carton and took out one of the containers that Dean had been sniffing a moment ago. He opened the container to find a film of gray, fuzzy growth on top of something that now only resembled the cashew chicken from a week and a half ago. Walking back to the table he asked Dean, "So, you would eat this? There's nothing wrong with it?"
Dean peeked into the box, looked up at Sam with his best what the hell kind of question is that look and replied, "Dude. You just scrape the top layer off. All the stuff underneath is fine. Like I said, more flavor," He smirked up at Sam and made a sick little contented noise in the back of his throat.
Sam rolled his eyes and turned and threw the science experiment into the garbage while Dean chuckled behind him. Sam could hear the snark in Dean's tone when he said, "Waste not, want not, little bro."
Sam walked back over the the table and opened up his laptop to start the day's research. Dean plowed away at his Chinese food as if he was starving. Every now and then Sam would look up from the screen to see Dean's cheeks stuffed full, Dean grinning back at him like a fool.
When Dean was finally finished, he threw his empty container away and rejoined Sam at the table. He watched intently as Sam skimmed through pages of info. Finally, fed up, Sam looked up from the screen and directed his best bitch-face Dean's way.
"What? What, Dean? Is there something on my forehead? You could be helping with this, you know."
Dean rocked his chair back precariously, his arms folded across his chest, exuding smugness. "You remember that time you got stuck in that old fridge? You know, the one in the abandoned house down the street from that apartment complex we lived in when you were, like, eight?"
Sam stared at Dean, flummoxed. He was pretty sure he'd never been stuck in a fridge before.
"Yeah. Yeah. You were eight. You'd gone out after school to hang out with some of your friends and when you didn't come home on time I went out looking for you. I could hear you screaming from three blocks away," Dean had a wistful, far away look on his face as he continued the story, "Yeah. I walked into the house and found you in the fridge. You'd climbed in there to hide from a... a... LEPRECHAUN! You were screaming like a little girl, dude. That was some funny shit. A freakin' leprechaun. Heh."
Sam, mouth hanging open, stared at Dean and watched his brother chuckle to himself about his crazy made up memory. Finally, the irritation became too much for Sam to handle and he shut his laptop cover loudly, getting Dean's attention.
"What? Are you high, Dean? That never happened. I swear, I think you're delusional sometimes. A fridge? Dude. Whatthefuckever," Sam muttered as he stood up and stalked into the makeshift bedroom.
"Aw, c'mon, princess. Don't be like that. It coulda happened. Maybe. Okay, not really. But it would have been funny," Dean mused as he grabbed the laptop and spun it around to face him. He opened the top and logged back into the page Sam had been working on.
Sam came back out to the kitchenette, opened the fridge and put the bottle of lube he'd collected from the bedside table into the door. Dean could be such a jerk sometimes, but Sam? Sam was sneaky. Where Dean was blunt and forward and pretty much out in the open, Sam was subdued, reserved, and a master of subterfuge. Sam knew that this would only lead to an escalation, but it would be worth it.
Let the games begin.
~ -|- ~
Sam kissed his way down Dean's back slowly. He took his time, passing light, airy kisses along each bump of vertebrae. He savored the feel of Dean shivering under him as he worked slowly, letting every little sensation build up. Sam ran his hands down Dean's sides, sliding past his waist, hips, thighs. He pulled his right hand up the inside of Dean's right leg, letting his fingers brush gently over the coarse hairs there, finally coming to a kneading stop on Dean's balls. The moan that escaped Dean's lips vibrated low in Sam's chest.
"Sam. Need you. Want you in me. Please," came Dean's shaky voice.
Sam grinned to himself, then patted Dean softly on the bottom and got up from the bed. Dean's head lifted and twisted to watch his brother disappear into the kitchenette.
"Yo. Sammy. What the fuck?"
"I had to get the lube, Dean."
Sam walked back to the bed and sat the lube down on the nightstand. Dean eyed him suspiciously and finally asked, "Why was the lube in the kit... wait. Did you put it in the fridge? Dude. That's just not right."
Sam smiled, "Guess you'll just have to wait a little while longer then, Dean. Wouldn't want to use cold lube. We'll just let it warm up for a while."
"You sneaky bastard. You did that on purpose. Not cool, man. Not cool," Dean let his head thump back to the pillow and started to turn over onto his back. Sam's hand stopped him before he could turn half way, pressing him firmly down into the mattress.
Sam bent over Dean once again and started laying kitten licks up Dean's ribs. Dean squirmed, trying to get away from Sam, but Sam's large hand was splayed across his back holding him securely in place. Sam eased himself onto the bed and straddled Dean's hips, capturing his older brother between strong thighs and he moved his hands to press into Dean's shoulders. He leaned down and nipped at the skin where Dean's shoulder met his neck and smiled as Dean whimpered at the sudden sensation.
Dean's hips bucked into the mattress as Sam continued his torturous ministrations. Sam caressed every available inch of Dean's skin with his fingers, lips and tongue. He bit at Dean's ear lobes, neck, shoulders, ass. He breathed warm air onto Dean's sides, arms and legs. He pushed Dean to the edge slowly and then pulled him back before he could tumble over.
"Sam. Sam, please. God, please. I... nnnngggghhh..." Dean's voice broke off into incoherent moans as Sam licked a warm strip from his balls to his ass.
"Lube's still cold, Dean. Need more time," Sam smiled into the small of Dean's back, his voice a dark whisper.
"Don't care, Sam. Need you. Need you now. Please." The rawness of Dean's voice shot through Sam and he thought for a moment that maybe, maybe it had been a stupid idea to put the lube in the fridge. It was nothing that a little body heat couldn't fix, though.
Sam picked up the bottle of lube from the bedside table. He squirted some of the chilled gel into his hand and started rubbing his hands together to warm it up. Finally, satisfied with the temperature, Sam slicked up his dick and slowly trailed a finger into Dean's crease. As Sam's slippery finger paused over his hole, Dean sucked in a breath and looked back at his brother to see a wicked grin plastered across his face. Sam let his finger slid in slowly, feeling Dean tense then relax as the pain/pleasure set in.
"That's not so, uhng god... bad. Shoulda done this sooner, Sam," Dean said, relaxing into the feel of Sam inside him. And Sam had to agree, maybe he shouldn't have waited so long, maybe he shouldn't have put the lube in the fridge, but making Dean wait? Torturing his brother with lithe fingers and stroking tongue? Awesome.
~ -|- ~
Sam woke a little later than usual after the night's events. He scuffed his way into the kitchenette and opened the fridge for some breakfast. He was overwhelmed once again by the odor emitting from such a small appliance. Rolling his eyes and breathing through his mouth, Sam started sorting through old take-out containers. He had opened three by the time Dean walked into the kitchen, sleep still clinging to him like cobwebs.
"Whatcha doin', Sammy?" Dean said as he sidled up next to his younger brother.
"Cleaning out this stink, Dean. I don't care what you say, this stuff's got to go, man." Sam pulled another box out of the fridge.
Sam rested his left hand on the handle of the fridge and looked at Dean. Dean who had a lopsided smirk on his face. Dean who was pulling his hands out from behind his back. Dean who, in one swift motion, had one ring of the handcuffs secure around Sam's left hand and the other attached firmly to the handle of the fridge.
Sam blinked, surprised, and said, "Dean, what the hell are you doing? Let me go."
Dean's lopsided smirk transformed into a full smile, eyes and all, "Can I bring you a chair? Looks like you're gonna be there for a while. Wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."
Sam sighed. He knew he wasn't going to win this with outright confrontation. He decided he may as well go with it. For now.
"Yeah, a chair would be nice. And could you move the trash can over this way? I want to finish cleaning out the fridge."
Dean's smile disappeared. In it's place was a thinly veiled look of confusion and annoyance. Sam raised his eyebrows and looked at Dean from under his brow, "Dean? Chair? And trash can, please."
Dean turned to the table and pulled a chair over for Sam and then pushed the trash can over within Sam's reach. Before turning around he said, "I expect a beer every time I come in here. No beer, no freedom for you later."
"Fine. Just let me finish cleaning up. And from now on, we get our own shelves. I don't want to have to deal with any more of your science experiments gone awry. This is gross."
Dean walked away and a few seconds later Sam heard the shower come on. He smiled to himself with the knowledge that he wasn't playing into Dean's game. He could wait this out. If he just acted unaffected by the situation, Dean would get bored and let him go. And if that didn't work, he'd just bribe Dean with the promise of a blow job. Or two. Or three. Whatever.
Sam finished throwing out all the less than desirable food and then started arranging the shelves. Beer in the door, Dean's food on the bottom, his food on the top. The contrast was laughable: Eight beers in the door; on the bottom shelf, two Chinese food containers (one sweet and sour pork, one Mongolian beef), a small container of sweet and sour sauce, one microwave burrito, a ham and cheese lunchable, and two convenience store "hamburgers"; on the top shelf, two apples, two Chinese food containers (one cashew chicken, one Buddha Delight) one small bag of baby carrots, one microwave burrito, and two microwaveable apple tarts.
By the time he was finished with the new arrangement, Dean was out of the shower and dressed. He walked into the kitchen and stood in front of Sam with an expectant look. Sam, a little slow to realize what it was that Dean wanted, sat and stared at his brother staring back at him. A second later it dawned on Sam that Dean was expecting a beer. He opened the door a pulled out a beer and handed it to Dean who simply smiled and turned around, beer in hand, to go sit at the table.
"Hey, uh, since you've got the laptop, could you bring me my book? It's on the bedside table?" Sam asked to Dean's back.
Dean turned around and glared at his brother, "This isn't supposed to be fun, Sam. No book."
"I could be doing more research for this case, Dean. It's not fun, it's work."
Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam, "Research is fun to you."
Sam sighed, "Fine. Whatever, Dean. If you want to do all the research by yourself today, that's fine with me. I'll just... meditate or something."
Sam relaxed back into the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him while Dean turned back to the laptop in front of him. About thirty minutes later, Dean let out a loud sigh and got up from the table. He returned with Sam's book, and a sour look on his face, "Don't get any enjoyment out of it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Sam said and smiled as he handed Dean another beer.
Two hours and one beer later, Sam was still cuffed to the fridge. He had made excellent progress on the book he was reading but, unfortunately, it didn't have anything to do with the case they were working. Well, at least he knew that now.
Dean walked over to the fridge and stood in front of Sam. Sam started to open the door to grab another beer when Dean, grudgingly, stepped up to his side and unlocked the handcuff attached to Sam's wrist. "You're no fun, Sam. You could at least, I dunno, bitch about this or something."
Standing up and rubbing his semi-sore wrist, Sam smiled and said, "Yeah, well... are we done now? Truce?"
Dean took a moment to answer, but when he did, it was pretty much exactly what Sam had expected, "Yeah, truce. But next time you put lube in the fridge, I'm the one who's gonna be doin' the fucking and you're the one who's gonna have to wait it out, Sparky."
Sam shrugged and walked into the bedroom. Grabbing the lube off the bedside table, once again, he walked back into the kitchenette and made a show of placing the bottle in the door of the fridge, "Fair enough. Why don't we let that sit for a few hours, then I'll take you up on that threat."
Sam sat down at the laptop and started typing away leaving Dean standing in front of the fridge with a bemused, if not annoyed, look on his face.
~ -|- ~
Title: Your Time Is Gonna Come
Author: mgbutterfly
Rating: NC-17 (for some almost sex)
Pairings: Dean/Sam (Wincest! Woot!)
Disclaimer: Uh, I wish I owned these boys. As it is, they own me. So... not mine, I make no money, just for fun, please don't sue.
Summary: "You remember that time you got stuck in that old fridge? You know, the one in the abandoned house down the street from that apartment complex we lived in when you were, like, eight?"
Sam stared at Dean, not really sure how to reply. He was pretty sure he'd never been stuck in a fridge before.
Beta!Bitch:barkeep. That's right. I coaxed her out of her internet exile with the promise of back rubs, chocolate and alcohol. Works every time. She's a whore easy like that, yo.
A/N: A HUGE thank you to sweeneybird, regala_electra and heelzebub for stepping up and getting my muse to tickle my brain a bit. This is for you guys. I'm sorry if it sucks. It's still for you. *g*
Also, this was written for spn_dailylife. My prompt was Fridge. Title comes from the Led Zeppelin song of the same name. Because that's what I was listening to, and it seemed to fit, and I'm really bad at titles. Yeah. And? Cross Posted liek whoa!
Sam walked into the kitchenette of the room they were renting for the month. They didn't usually stay in one place for this long, but this hunt was going to take a lot of research and lots of careful planning.
He padded along on his bare feet to the small refrigerator on the counter top, nestled between the wall and a mini microwave. He opened the dingy door to pull out the carton of milk for some cereal and was overwhelmed by the odor of what he could only imagine was a dead nuckalevee. Pulling the milk out, Sam opened the carton and took a good sniff before putting it to his lips. He took a long swig and set it down on the counter before pulling the box of Sugar Pops and a bowl out of one of the cabinets.
Sam was well into his second bowl of cereal when Dean came walking out of the bedroom all bleary-eyed and groggy. Sam watched as Dean opened the fridge and pulled out one of the many Chinese food containers. Sam watched as Dean opened the little white box and stuck his nose practically into the food in the container. A second later, Dean's head came up out of the Chinese food so fast Sam thought his neck might snap. The look on Dean's face was a mix of nausea and pride as he closed the box and stuck it back in the fridge. Sam snickered from where he sat at the table but his amusement quickly turned to annoyance as he realized Dean's process.
"Hey! Don't you think you should throw that one away?" Sam asked as Dean replaced a second container in the fridge.
"Why would I do that? Might eat it later." Dean pulled out a third box and, upon the completion of his sniff test, decided it was good enough. He walked the few steps to the table to join Sam for the morning meal.
"I don't know, genius. Maybe because it's gone rancid? I can't believe you would actually consider eating any of that shit. It smells like something died in that fridge," Sam said around a mouthful of Sugar Pops.
"Dude. That stuff's perfectly fine. It's not growing anything, and the longer it sits, the more flavor it has."
Dean's grin was positively infuriating.
Sam shook his head and finished off the last of his cereal. Going back to the fridge, he replaced the milk carton and took out one of the containers that Dean had been sniffing a moment ago. He opened the container to find a film of gray, fuzzy growth on top of something that now only resembled the cashew chicken from a week and a half ago. Walking back to the table he asked Dean, "So, you would eat this? There's nothing wrong with it?"
Dean peeked into the box, looked up at Sam with his best what the hell kind of question is that look and replied, "Dude. You just scrape the top layer off. All the stuff underneath is fine. Like I said, more flavor," He smirked up at Sam and made a sick little contented noise in the back of his throat.
Sam rolled his eyes and turned and threw the science experiment into the garbage while Dean chuckled behind him. Sam could hear the snark in Dean's tone when he said, "Waste not, want not, little bro."
Sam walked back over the the table and opened up his laptop to start the day's research. Dean plowed away at his Chinese food as if he was starving. Every now and then Sam would look up from the screen to see Dean's cheeks stuffed full, Dean grinning back at him like a fool.
When Dean was finally finished, he threw his empty container away and rejoined Sam at the table. He watched intently as Sam skimmed through pages of info. Finally, fed up, Sam looked up from the screen and directed his best bitch-face Dean's way.
"What? What, Dean? Is there something on my forehead? You could be helping with this, you know."
Dean rocked his chair back precariously, his arms folded across his chest, exuding smugness. "You remember that time you got stuck in that old fridge? You know, the one in the abandoned house down the street from that apartment complex we lived in when you were, like, eight?"
Sam stared at Dean, flummoxed. He was pretty sure he'd never been stuck in a fridge before.
"Yeah. Yeah. You were eight. You'd gone out after school to hang out with some of your friends and when you didn't come home on time I went out looking for you. I could hear you screaming from three blocks away," Dean had a wistful, far away look on his face as he continued the story, "Yeah. I walked into the house and found you in the fridge. You'd climbed in there to hide from a... a... LEPRECHAUN! You were screaming like a little girl, dude. That was some funny shit. A freakin' leprechaun. Heh."
Sam, mouth hanging open, stared at Dean and watched his brother chuckle to himself about his crazy made up memory. Finally, the irritation became too much for Sam to handle and he shut his laptop cover loudly, getting Dean's attention.
"What? Are you high, Dean? That never happened. I swear, I think you're delusional sometimes. A fridge? Dude. Whatthefuckever," Sam muttered as he stood up and stalked into the makeshift bedroom.
"Aw, c'mon, princess. Don't be like that. It coulda happened. Maybe. Okay, not really. But it would have been funny," Dean mused as he grabbed the laptop and spun it around to face him. He opened the top and logged back into the page Sam had been working on.
Sam came back out to the kitchenette, opened the fridge and put the bottle of lube he'd collected from the bedside table into the door. Dean could be such a jerk sometimes, but Sam? Sam was sneaky. Where Dean was blunt and forward and pretty much out in the open, Sam was subdued, reserved, and a master of subterfuge. Sam knew that this would only lead to an escalation, but it would be worth it.
Let the games begin.
~ -|- ~
Sam kissed his way down Dean's back slowly. He took his time, passing light, airy kisses along each bump of vertebrae. He savored the feel of Dean shivering under him as he worked slowly, letting every little sensation build up. Sam ran his hands down Dean's sides, sliding past his waist, hips, thighs. He pulled his right hand up the inside of Dean's right leg, letting his fingers brush gently over the coarse hairs there, finally coming to a kneading stop on Dean's balls. The moan that escaped Dean's lips vibrated low in Sam's chest.
"Sam. Need you. Want you in me. Please," came Dean's shaky voice.
Sam grinned to himself, then patted Dean softly on the bottom and got up from the bed. Dean's head lifted and twisted to watch his brother disappear into the kitchenette.
"Yo. Sammy. What the fuck?"
"I had to get the lube, Dean."
Sam walked back to the bed and sat the lube down on the nightstand. Dean eyed him suspiciously and finally asked, "Why was the lube in the kit... wait. Did you put it in the fridge? Dude. That's just not right."
Sam smiled, "Guess you'll just have to wait a little while longer then, Dean. Wouldn't want to use cold lube. We'll just let it warm up for a while."
"You sneaky bastard. You did that on purpose. Not cool, man. Not cool," Dean let his head thump back to the pillow and started to turn over onto his back. Sam's hand stopped him before he could turn half way, pressing him firmly down into the mattress.
Sam bent over Dean once again and started laying kitten licks up Dean's ribs. Dean squirmed, trying to get away from Sam, but Sam's large hand was splayed across his back holding him securely in place. Sam eased himself onto the bed and straddled Dean's hips, capturing his older brother between strong thighs and he moved his hands to press into Dean's shoulders. He leaned down and nipped at the skin where Dean's shoulder met his neck and smiled as Dean whimpered at the sudden sensation.
Dean's hips bucked into the mattress as Sam continued his torturous ministrations. Sam caressed every available inch of Dean's skin with his fingers, lips and tongue. He bit at Dean's ear lobes, neck, shoulders, ass. He breathed warm air onto Dean's sides, arms and legs. He pushed Dean to the edge slowly and then pulled him back before he could tumble over.
"Sam. Sam, please. God, please. I... nnnngggghhh..." Dean's voice broke off into incoherent moans as Sam licked a warm strip from his balls to his ass.
"Lube's still cold, Dean. Need more time," Sam smiled into the small of Dean's back, his voice a dark whisper.
"Don't care, Sam. Need you. Need you now. Please." The rawness of Dean's voice shot through Sam and he thought for a moment that maybe, maybe it had been a stupid idea to put the lube in the fridge. It was nothing that a little body heat couldn't fix, though.
Sam picked up the bottle of lube from the bedside table. He squirted some of the chilled gel into his hand and started rubbing his hands together to warm it up. Finally, satisfied with the temperature, Sam slicked up his dick and slowly trailed a finger into Dean's crease. As Sam's slippery finger paused over his hole, Dean sucked in a breath and looked back at his brother to see a wicked grin plastered across his face. Sam let his finger slid in slowly, feeling Dean tense then relax as the pain/pleasure set in.
"That's not so, uhng god... bad. Shoulda done this sooner, Sam," Dean said, relaxing into the feel of Sam inside him. And Sam had to agree, maybe he shouldn't have waited so long, maybe he shouldn't have put the lube in the fridge, but making Dean wait? Torturing his brother with lithe fingers and stroking tongue? Awesome.
~ -|- ~
Sam woke a little later than usual after the night's events. He scuffed his way into the kitchenette and opened the fridge for some breakfast. He was overwhelmed once again by the odor emitting from such a small appliance. Rolling his eyes and breathing through his mouth, Sam started sorting through old take-out containers. He had opened three by the time Dean walked into the kitchen, sleep still clinging to him like cobwebs.
"Whatcha doin', Sammy?" Dean said as he sidled up next to his younger brother.
"Cleaning out this stink, Dean. I don't care what you say, this stuff's got to go, man." Sam pulled another box out of the fridge.
Sam rested his left hand on the handle of the fridge and looked at Dean. Dean who had a lopsided smirk on his face. Dean who was pulling his hands out from behind his back. Dean who, in one swift motion, had one ring of the handcuffs secure around Sam's left hand and the other attached firmly to the handle of the fridge.
Sam blinked, surprised, and said, "Dean, what the hell are you doing? Let me go."
Dean's lopsided smirk transformed into a full smile, eyes and all, "Can I bring you a chair? Looks like you're gonna be there for a while. Wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."
Sam sighed. He knew he wasn't going to win this with outright confrontation. He decided he may as well go with it. For now.
"Yeah, a chair would be nice. And could you move the trash can over this way? I want to finish cleaning out the fridge."
Dean's smile disappeared. In it's place was a thinly veiled look of confusion and annoyance. Sam raised his eyebrows and looked at Dean from under his brow, "Dean? Chair? And trash can, please."
Dean turned to the table and pulled a chair over for Sam and then pushed the trash can over within Sam's reach. Before turning around he said, "I expect a beer every time I come in here. No beer, no freedom for you later."
"Fine. Just let me finish cleaning up. And from now on, we get our own shelves. I don't want to have to deal with any more of your science experiments gone awry. This is gross."
Dean walked away and a few seconds later Sam heard the shower come on. He smiled to himself with the knowledge that he wasn't playing into Dean's game. He could wait this out. If he just acted unaffected by the situation, Dean would get bored and let him go. And if that didn't work, he'd just bribe Dean with the promise of a blow job. Or two. Or three. Whatever.
Sam finished throwing out all the less than desirable food and then started arranging the shelves. Beer in the door, Dean's food on the bottom, his food on the top. The contrast was laughable: Eight beers in the door; on the bottom shelf, two Chinese food containers (one sweet and sour pork, one Mongolian beef), a small container of sweet and sour sauce, one microwave burrito, a ham and cheese lunchable, and two convenience store "hamburgers"; on the top shelf, two apples, two Chinese food containers (one cashew chicken, one Buddha Delight) one small bag of baby carrots, one microwave burrito, and two microwaveable apple tarts.
By the time he was finished with the new arrangement, Dean was out of the shower and dressed. He walked into the kitchen and stood in front of Sam with an expectant look. Sam, a little slow to realize what it was that Dean wanted, sat and stared at his brother staring back at him. A second later it dawned on Sam that Dean was expecting a beer. He opened the door a pulled out a beer and handed it to Dean who simply smiled and turned around, beer in hand, to go sit at the table.
"Hey, uh, since you've got the laptop, could you bring me my book? It's on the bedside table?" Sam asked to Dean's back.
Dean turned around and glared at his brother, "This isn't supposed to be fun, Sam. No book."
"I could be doing more research for this case, Dean. It's not fun, it's work."
Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam, "Research is fun to you."
Sam sighed, "Fine. Whatever, Dean. If you want to do all the research by yourself today, that's fine with me. I'll just... meditate or something."
Sam relaxed back into the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him while Dean turned back to the laptop in front of him. About thirty minutes later, Dean let out a loud sigh and got up from the table. He returned with Sam's book, and a sour look on his face, "Don't get any enjoyment out of it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Sam said and smiled as he handed Dean another beer.
Two hours and one beer later, Sam was still cuffed to the fridge. He had made excellent progress on the book he was reading but, unfortunately, it didn't have anything to do with the case they were working. Well, at least he knew that now.
Dean walked over to the fridge and stood in front of Sam. Sam started to open the door to grab another beer when Dean, grudgingly, stepped up to his side and unlocked the handcuff attached to Sam's wrist. "You're no fun, Sam. You could at least, I dunno, bitch about this or something."
Standing up and rubbing his semi-sore wrist, Sam smiled and said, "Yeah, well... are we done now? Truce?"
Dean took a moment to answer, but when he did, it was pretty much exactly what Sam had expected, "Yeah, truce. But next time you put lube in the fridge, I'm the one who's gonna be doin' the fucking and you're the one who's gonna have to wait it out, Sparky."
Sam shrugged and walked into the bedroom. Grabbing the lube off the bedside table, once again, he walked back into the kitchenette and made a show of placing the bottle in the door of the fridge, "Fair enough. Why don't we let that sit for a few hours, then I'll take you up on that threat."
Sam sat down at the laptop and started typing away leaving Dean standing in front of the fridge with a bemused, if not annoyed, look on his face.
~ -|- ~