The time, it is stamped.
Give me one of my own stories, and a timestamp sometime in the future after the end of the story, or sometime in the past before the story started, and I'll write you at least a hundred however many words of what happened then, whether it's five minutes before the story started or ten years in the future.
For reference, stuff I've writtenDon't ( Read more... )
For reference, stuff I've writtenDon't ( Read more... )
Comments 111
pairing: sam motherfucking winchester/really really childish
timestamp: sometime in the future, Dean finds out some of his joke accusations are true.
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The next morning Dean turns the shower on, waits twenty seconds, then steps out of the bathroom.
"Wha--Dean!"
"Holy SHIT."
It takes Dean multiple tries to pull his shit together, because he keeps calming himself down, quieting the guffaws to intermittent chuckles, and then he'll take a look at Sam's motherfucking death glare and that sets him off into peals of laughter again ( ... )
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fandom: SPN
timestamp: Dictionary for a Dead Language (because I love it so absolutely and will shamelessly always want more)
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Thank you!!!!!!
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They've been living in Elk Plain for long enough to have accumulated junk in the garage and developed opinions on the town council, but it doesn't occur to them to buy into this Halloween nonsense till they're standing in the grocery aisle and Dean is clutching a two-pound bag of mini Reese's cups to his chest. He looks at Sam with great urgency.
"Fine," Sam says. "But if we get them, we're leaving the porch light on for trick-or-treaters. You can have the leftovers." He takes them and puts them in the cart. He stares at them thoughtfully. "They're all so smallAnd that's how, five years in, the Plant-Page household abruptly becomes extremely popular with the kindergarten set ( ... )
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:D
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And Sam hates to leave Dean, but he'll come back for him, soon as he can. Sam comes back for Dean.
♥
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When Dean wakes up, the midday light pouring in the windows is blinding, haloed around a dark silhouette. Dean's knife is pillow-warm in his hand. He's brought the warm knife to a warm throat before he's even fully conscious. Half-dreaming, Dean finds himself transfixed by the pulse beating in that throat, tha-thump. Dean blinks three times before the sunspots finally clear from his eyes, and then he's fully awake and there are no more reasonable explanations for what he's seeing. Tha-thump tha-thump.
"Dean." Sam's smile is a growing thing, starts off small and then takes over his features till he's nearly glowing. Sam shakes his head slowly, not seeming to notice the shallow line Dean's knife is tracing over his throat, a thin seam of blood rising to the surface. Dean drops his knife and wraps his hand around Sam's throat instead, palm to Adam's-apple. He feels Sam's blood beading against his skin. Sam's voice cracks. "I missed you ( ... )
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Sam never let Dean put him on his back and fuss till he got Sam's bad leg slung around Dean's waist so it wouldn't ache, he never said slower, he never smiled when Dean deliberately found his sweet spot and worked him up to a gasping sweating mess.
At some point Dean realizes that he's matching Sam's chorus of "Dean, Dean, Dean." Don't go, don't go, please, Sammy, fuck, don't go.
Dean comes bare inside of Sam, and Sam catches him when he collapses, cradles Dean's head, hands over Dean's ears so everything sounds like the ocean. "I'm never going to leave you again." The playful sparkle of moments ago vanishes from Sam's face. "You've got to understand that. Nothing is ever going to keep you from me. I won't let it," he says over the sound of crashing waves. "Do you understand?"
Naked with only a sweat-damp sheet to cover him, Dean shivers. He looks closely at Sam because really, Dean has no reason to trust Sam's word and every reason not to. "Where were you? Two years, Sam, where the fuck were you ( ... )
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