heard_the_owl_lj (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heard_the_owl_lj) wrote2011-06-08 04:25 pm
heard_the_owl_lj) wrote2011-06-08 04:25 pm
Entry tags:
Kink Bingo fic - Vanilla Kink
Title: Coffee and Pie
Rating: G if you don't count the f-words. Otherwise, PG-13? for f-words.
Pairing: Sam and Dean
Word Count: 868
Warnings: None except maybe...shmoop?
Summary: Written for my![[community profile]](https://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
kink_bingo square, vanilla kink.
Beta'd by the ever lovely and entertaining![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
glovered who is just amazing! All remaining mistakes are mine!
As Dean polished off the last bite of truly delicious pie, sitting back to wait for Sam to finish his mocha-cocoa-latte-chino-whatsit six dollar coffee, he realized it had been a long time since anyone had mistaken them for a couple. A really long time.
It wasn’t as if Dean knew what the fuck people meant by it because, hey, they were brothers, but he’d kinda gotten used to it. It was something that just seemed easy to go with eventually after years on the road together and sharing motel rooms nightly, something he didn’t let get to him even if it made picking up chicks a little bit more difficult. But Dean couldn’t resist a good challenge and some chicks had actually seemed drawn to him because they thought he and Sam were ‘together’. Some chicks were weird, but boobs usually made up for that.
He smiled at the waitress who came to clear away his plate, licking his lips when she rested an arm on the back of the booth Sam was sitting in and leaned over the table to ask if he wanted anything else, taking a quick peep at the ample cleavage she flashed. Navy blue lace, very nice. But then he caught the look Sam was giving him. Disgust and outrage – it was the same look he’d been giving Dean since the kid was nine and Dean had hit puberty. Dean felt his smile grow and thanked the waitress, asking for the check.
Things had changed for them after Dean had come back from his trip below. Sam had been distant, different, lying to him.
Sam looked up from his paper and asked if Dean didn’t wanna get some pie to go, which in Dean’s opinion, was a huge improvement. That first year after Dean got back, not only was Sam lying to him on a daily basis, he’d even managed to forget to buy him pie.
Even after they'd gotten back on the road, back to hunting, side by side in the front seat of the Impala, there had still been this horrible tension between them that had nothing to do with the coming apocalypse or all the angels and demons in heaven and hell.
They’d lost it – that easy sense of trust built up over a lifetime of watching each others' backs, being the one person the other could always count on. Dean thought the loss of that easy way they had with each other was worse than all the years spent on Alastair’s rack, on or off it, combined.
Dean told Sam he was good to go, had eaten all the pie and could, which earned him a quirked brow of disbelief before Sam went back to reading his paper.
They’d tried to reconcile. There were only so many times Sam could apologize before Dean just accepted it and tried to move on. Not long after, Sam was gone again, into Lucifer’s cage in another attempt to save his brother and save the world, not knowing or realizing that the biggest hurt Dean could ever know was to be without him. Sam had been his whole world…well, his whole world that actually meant anything since Dean had carried him out of their burning house. Without Sam, what did he really have?
Sam slurped his 'coffee', trying to suck all the whipped cream from the bottom without spilling it all down his shirt, and came up with a milk mustache, the heavy cream painted thick all across his upper lip, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckling and giving his brother a gentle (for them) kick under the table earning himself an annoyed “Dean” and a shake of the head, his brother still looking like such a pretty princess with his floofy hair, no matter how damn big he’d gotten.
And then Sam was back from the pit, showed up at Lisa’s one day out of blue after Dean had lost all hope of ever seeing him again, but he wasn’t right. Nothing was right. His brother was a fucking Mandroid, soulless and incomplete, the part of him that made Sam his Sammy missing. Dean hadn’t been sure what was worse, having Sam gone or having him there by his side but without his soul. Sammy was his soul, his compassion and empathy, his girly feelings. Dean really hated himself for thinking it, but he would rather have had Sam dead than as that soulless automaton.
Now, Dean thought as he kicked Sam’s foot repeatedly, watching how the paper in Sam’s grip shook with each blow and his knuckles got steadily whiter around the edges, now they were good.
The waitress brought their bill and Dean left some cash on the table, waiting for Sam to get his shit together and stand up so they could go.
“You boys take care of each other, you hear?” she called out after them, and Dean couldn’t help himself, reached down to grab Sam’s hand and hold it firmly in his own as they made for the door.
His brother gripped back and Dean was startled enough by it to look up and meet Sam’s eyes. He looked…happy, and Dean held on tighter.
Yeah. Now they were good.
Rating: G if you don't count the f-words. Otherwise, PG-13? for f-words.
Pairing: Sam and Dean
Word Count: 868
Warnings: None except maybe...shmoop?
Summary: Written for my
kink_bingo square, vanilla kink. Beta'd by the ever lovely and entertaining
glovered who is just amazing! All remaining mistakes are mine!As Dean polished off the last bite of truly delicious pie, sitting back to wait for Sam to finish his mocha-cocoa-latte-chino-whatsit six dollar coffee, he realized it had been a long time since anyone had mistaken them for a couple. A really long time.
It wasn’t as if Dean knew what the fuck people meant by it because, hey, they were brothers, but he’d kinda gotten used to it. It was something that just seemed easy to go with eventually after years on the road together and sharing motel rooms nightly, something he didn’t let get to him even if it made picking up chicks a little bit more difficult. But Dean couldn’t resist a good challenge and some chicks had actually seemed drawn to him because they thought he and Sam were ‘together’. Some chicks were weird, but boobs usually made up for that.
He smiled at the waitress who came to clear away his plate, licking his lips when she rested an arm on the back of the booth Sam was sitting in and leaned over the table to ask if he wanted anything else, taking a quick peep at the ample cleavage she flashed. Navy blue lace, very nice. But then he caught the look Sam was giving him. Disgust and outrage – it was the same look he’d been giving Dean since the kid was nine and Dean had hit puberty. Dean felt his smile grow and thanked the waitress, asking for the check.
Things had changed for them after Dean had come back from his trip below. Sam had been distant, different, lying to him.
Sam looked up from his paper and asked if Dean didn’t wanna get some pie to go, which in Dean’s opinion, was a huge improvement. That first year after Dean got back, not only was Sam lying to him on a daily basis, he’d even managed to forget to buy him pie.
Even after they'd gotten back on the road, back to hunting, side by side in the front seat of the Impala, there had still been this horrible tension between them that had nothing to do with the coming apocalypse or all the angels and demons in heaven and hell.
They’d lost it – that easy sense of trust built up over a lifetime of watching each others' backs, being the one person the other could always count on. Dean thought the loss of that easy way they had with each other was worse than all the years spent on Alastair’s rack, on or off it, combined.
Dean told Sam he was good to go, had eaten all the pie and could, which earned him a quirked brow of disbelief before Sam went back to reading his paper.
They’d tried to reconcile. There were only so many times Sam could apologize before Dean just accepted it and tried to move on. Not long after, Sam was gone again, into Lucifer’s cage in another attempt to save his brother and save the world, not knowing or realizing that the biggest hurt Dean could ever know was to be without him. Sam had been his whole world…well, his whole world that actually meant anything since Dean had carried him out of their burning house. Without Sam, what did he really have?
Sam slurped his 'coffee', trying to suck all the whipped cream from the bottom without spilling it all down his shirt, and came up with a milk mustache, the heavy cream painted thick all across his upper lip, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckling and giving his brother a gentle (for them) kick under the table earning himself an annoyed “Dean” and a shake of the head, his brother still looking like such a pretty princess with his floofy hair, no matter how damn big he’d gotten.
And then Sam was back from the pit, showed up at Lisa’s one day out of blue after Dean had lost all hope of ever seeing him again, but he wasn’t right. Nothing was right. His brother was a fucking Mandroid, soulless and incomplete, the part of him that made Sam his Sammy missing. Dean hadn’t been sure what was worse, having Sam gone or having him there by his side but without his soul. Sammy was his soul, his compassion and empathy, his girly feelings. Dean really hated himself for thinking it, but he would rather have had Sam dead than as that soulless automaton.
Now, Dean thought as he kicked Sam’s foot repeatedly, watching how the paper in Sam’s grip shook with each blow and his knuckles got steadily whiter around the edges, now they were good.
The waitress brought their bill and Dean left some cash on the table, waiting for Sam to get his shit together and stand up so they could go.
“You boys take care of each other, you hear?” she called out after them, and Dean couldn’t help himself, reached down to grab Sam’s hand and hold it firmly in his own as they made for the door.
His brother gripped back and Dean was startled enough by it to look up and meet Sam’s eyes. He looked…happy, and Dean held on tighter.
Yeah. Now they were good.
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Thanks again for help! ♥
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My Coffee. $5.94. Twice a day...
Yeah, I see what you mean. Must be evil.
Thanks for stopping by! ♥!
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May I recommend the new Mocha Coconut Frappuccino with extra coffee?
I could easily spend $100 (that I don't have) on these things a week. Tastes like a frickin' Samoa! So damn good.
...now I wanna track down some Girl Scouts. lol
Have a Happy Friday!
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Thanks for the comment, hun!