teffy
in
spn_j2_xmas
Gift for gray_light
Title: They Say It's Your Birthday
Gift-Giver: teffy
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine. All Kripke's.
Summary: It's Dean's first birthday after coming back from hell. Fluff, with a smidge of angst, and lots of porn and brotherly schmoop.
Written for gray_light, sorry so late dear! I've had the past two weeks from hell! But I worked hard to get this done for you. I hope you enjoy!
There was a plastic bag under the passenger's seat. Sam had bought it secretly at the last gas station. It was important to hide it because, well, it was only just after ten and Dean's birthday technically wouldn't start until midnight. When they got back on the road he hadn't counted on the comforting sound of the impala's engine and it had lulled him to sleep. When he woke up from his dozing it was already past midnight. His plan was falling apart. Dean looked over him curiously as he rummaged in the plastic bag under his seat.
"Dude...what the hell are you doing?" Dean muttered.
Sam ignored him and finally pulled out a wrapped snack cake. "It's after midnight." He wiggled the twinkies and held them out for Dean to take. "Happy Birthday, Dean." He smiled wide.
Dean just shook his head and looked back out the windshield. "Yeah." The answer was simple but the look on his face was complicated, his jaw clenched.
Sam tried not to feel too put out. Somehow he knew Dean wouldn't be that excited about his birthday, but he couldn't help himself. "It's just a twinkie. Not a noise maker and streamers. I just thought..." He trailed off with a sigh.
Suddenly, Dean was pulling off to the shoulder, nothing dramatic about it, just a simple nudge of the steering wheel, the press of the break and they were crunching on the gravel on the side of the road.
"Are you okay?"
"No, but I'm not ever gonna be, you know?" It was all Dean said, his voice soft.
Sam reached over tentatively and slid his fingers through Dean's hair. Sometimes Dean didn't want to be touched, but Sam just had to touch him. He'd risk it if only Dean would stop making that face. Dean managed to smile, but it was strained. Sam was having none of that and he practically hauled him across the front seat.
"Don't you understand? How much I missed you." He sighed. "It's your birthday. And as such, I demand that you cheer, the fuck, up."
Dean huffed out a laugh, face buried against Sam's neck. "I know, Sammy."
Sam turned his head and his mouth met Dean's in a way, he was sure, that wasn't passionate so much as desperate. The door handle was digging into his back and his leg was falling asleep where it was hitched up along the seat, but it didn't matter. Dean was kissing him back.
"I'm not ever going to let you do that to me again." Sam panted. Leave me alone. Those were the unspoken words to follow. There were a lot of those unspoken words with the two of them lately.
Dean pushed a hand between them and rubbed the front of his own jeans. "Shut up." He growled and let the back of his hand provide some friction for Sam.
They stayed like that for a moment, clinging tightly to one another, rocking their hips insistently until Sam was sure he'd burst. Dean's hand finally moved, tugging at his zipper, Sam didn't even attempt to make his job easier by shifting his hips. It all felt too good.
Sam whimpered as Dean's hand encircled his cock. He held onto Dean's shoulders. "Don't...don't stop."
"Thought this was my birthday, Sammy?" Dean grinned wickedly against his neck. "Why am I doing all the work?"
Sam huffed out a laugh. "I swear-ohhh, fuck." Sam's voice broke off in a strangled moan as Dean stroked him slowly. Dean only moved his hand up to lick his palm and then started stroking him again. Sam tilted his head down to watch his hand move. He never got tired of watching the way Dean would touch him. How had he lived a year without this?
Dean looked up and Sam wouldn't meet his eyes. "Don't stop." He pleaded. "Please, don't stop."
"I'm not. Sam. Look at me." Dean's voice was strained and when Sam let his gaze flick up he saw the flush along Dean's cheeks and down his neck. Sam came then, so suddenly it surprised even him. Dean kept his hand moving until it was almost too much. Sam finally had to push him away.
"Fuck. Dean, I-" He didn't know what to say.
Dean grabbed a crumpled kleenex from somewhere and wiped his hand. Sam could only watch him. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do. Everything he'd had with Dean had to be learned all over again, but he sure was gonna try. "Did you...?"
"Yeah." Dean shrugged. "In my boxers, you fucker. You owe me for that. I expect a birthday blow job when we get to the motel."
Sam smiled lazily. "So you're glad it's your birthday now?" He said, finally able to catch his breath. He tucked himself back into his jeans.
"Thanks, Sam. For the..." Dean fished between the seat and pulled out the squished package. He smiled. "Thanks."
Smushed twinkies had never tasted better.
Gift-Giver: teffy
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine. All Kripke's.
Summary: It's Dean's first birthday after coming back from hell. Fluff, with a smidge of angst, and lots of porn and brotherly schmoop.
Written for gray_light, sorry so late dear! I've had the past two weeks from hell! But I worked hard to get this done for you. I hope you enjoy!
There was a plastic bag under the passenger's seat. Sam had bought it secretly at the last gas station. It was important to hide it because, well, it was only just after ten and Dean's birthday technically wouldn't start until midnight. When they got back on the road he hadn't counted on the comforting sound of the impala's engine and it had lulled him to sleep. When he woke up from his dozing it was already past midnight. His plan was falling apart. Dean looked over him curiously as he rummaged in the plastic bag under his seat.
"Dude...what the hell are you doing?" Dean muttered.
Sam ignored him and finally pulled out a wrapped snack cake. "It's after midnight." He wiggled the twinkies and held them out for Dean to take. "Happy Birthday, Dean." He smiled wide.
Dean just shook his head and looked back out the windshield. "Yeah." The answer was simple but the look on his face was complicated, his jaw clenched.
Sam tried not to feel too put out. Somehow he knew Dean wouldn't be that excited about his birthday, but he couldn't help himself. "It's just a twinkie. Not a noise maker and streamers. I just thought..." He trailed off with a sigh.
Suddenly, Dean was pulling off to the shoulder, nothing dramatic about it, just a simple nudge of the steering wheel, the press of the break and they were crunching on the gravel on the side of the road.
"Are you okay?"
"No, but I'm not ever gonna be, you know?" It was all Dean said, his voice soft.
Sam reached over tentatively and slid his fingers through Dean's hair. Sometimes Dean didn't want to be touched, but Sam just had to touch him. He'd risk it if only Dean would stop making that face. Dean managed to smile, but it was strained. Sam was having none of that and he practically hauled him across the front seat.
"Don't you understand? How much I missed you." He sighed. "It's your birthday. And as such, I demand that you cheer, the fuck, up."
Dean huffed out a laugh, face buried against Sam's neck. "I know, Sammy."
Sam turned his head and his mouth met Dean's in a way, he was sure, that wasn't passionate so much as desperate. The door handle was digging into his back and his leg was falling asleep where it was hitched up along the seat, but it didn't matter. Dean was kissing him back.
"I'm not ever going to let you do that to me again." Sam panted. Leave me alone. Those were the unspoken words to follow. There were a lot of those unspoken words with the two of them lately.
Dean pushed a hand between them and rubbed the front of his own jeans. "Shut up." He growled and let the back of his hand provide some friction for Sam.
They stayed like that for a moment, clinging tightly to one another, rocking their hips insistently until Sam was sure he'd burst. Dean's hand finally moved, tugging at his zipper, Sam didn't even attempt to make his job easier by shifting his hips. It all felt too good.
Sam whimpered as Dean's hand encircled his cock. He held onto Dean's shoulders. "Don't...don't stop."
"Thought this was my birthday, Sammy?" Dean grinned wickedly against his neck. "Why am I doing all the work?"
Sam huffed out a laugh. "I swear-ohhh, fuck." Sam's voice broke off in a strangled moan as Dean stroked him slowly. Dean only moved his hand up to lick his palm and then started stroking him again. Sam tilted his head down to watch his hand move. He never got tired of watching the way Dean would touch him. How had he lived a year without this?
Dean looked up and Sam wouldn't meet his eyes. "Don't stop." He pleaded. "Please, don't stop."
"I'm not. Sam. Look at me." Dean's voice was strained and when Sam let his gaze flick up he saw the flush along Dean's cheeks and down his neck. Sam came then, so suddenly it surprised even him. Dean kept his hand moving until it was almost too much. Sam finally had to push him away.
"Fuck. Dean, I-" He didn't know what to say.
Dean grabbed a crumpled kleenex from somewhere and wiped his hand. Sam could only watch him. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do. Everything he'd had with Dean had to be learned all over again, but he sure was gonna try. "Did you...?"
"Yeah." Dean shrugged. "In my boxers, you fucker. You owe me for that. I expect a birthday blow job when we get to the motel."
Sam smiled lazily. "So you're glad it's your birthday now?" He said, finally able to catch his breath. He tucked himself back into his jeans.
"Thanks, Sam. For the..." Dean fished between the seat and pulled out the squished package. He smiled. "Thanks."
Smushed twinkies had never tasted better.