MOAR fic
Writing fic can be addictive (and hard). I see why people do it.
This is cracky pie!fic. I just watched All Hell Breaks Loose for the billionth time and didn't want to write angst.
Get Me Some Pie, Bitch! ~1400 words, Sam/Dean, PG-13. Unbeta'd and concrit welcome (needed). Dean enters a pie eating contest. Sam gets fondly annoyed.
The road was melting under the intense rays of the sun, the air-conditioning was broken and Sam was fucking melting into the car seat. Hot air pooled in the car despite the open windows and his seatbelt was too hot to touch.
“Dean, Dean,” Sam weakly pawed at his brother. “Can we stop somewhere? I’m getting severely dehydrated and I think I'm starting to hallucinate because of the heat.”
“Quit it, Sam. We’re almost there.” Dean had been sporting a maniacal grin ever since this morning. He’d refused to tell Sam where they were going and Sam didn’t have the energy to dig it out of his jerk of a brother.
Sam slumped against the open window, letting the wind tickle his hair.
“Ah ha! Jackpot!” Dean started drumming on the steering wheel and humming something under his breath.
Sam shot back up, hoping for somewhere with a restroom and cold drinks. He stared out the window. “What? Oh god no, Dean. What the hell?”
County fairs were no longer Sam’s favourite place. Sure, when he was a kid and Dean would sneak him off to the local fair for a day. They’d gorge themselves on candy and then throw up after dozens of rides. To close out the night, with all the fair lights illuminating the sky, Dean would win for him the biggest, girliest stuffed toy. Dad would come back from a hunting trip slightly perplexed by the new member of their household. But he’d never said anything and the unicorn or giant teddy would end up in the trash during their next move. In the end though, Sam'd grown up.
Wiping sweat of his forehead, Sam unstuck himself from the leather and lurched out of the car while his brother practically leap out.
“What are we doing here?” Sam whined.
Dean glanced over, finally acknowledging Sam through his haze of happiness. “Stop making a bitchface you woman. There’s free pie!” Dean did a little moonwalk. “RIP MJ, you sure had style.”
Sam stared at him blankly.
“All you can eat pie eating contest I saw in the paper this morning.” Dean’s grin lit up his whole face. Sam didn’t think he’d ever grow immune to his brother’s charm. “Let’s rock ’n roll!”
While Sam forked out for the fair (Dean claimed he didn’t have any cash on him, the liar) his brother made excited, boastful comments to other people in line. He grabbed Dean’s arm and pulled him away before the natives could start taking offense.
The fair was pretty standard. Bright lights, screaming kids, farm produce and worn out parents. The ground was sticky and muddy, and Sam simply wanted to get a bottle of water and crash in the shade. Instead, he was being hustled towards Dean’s wet dream. Well, one of them at least. Sam still held out hope that he was included in one of these fantasies, that Dean might feel something of the irresistible pull that always drew Sam towards him. By this point, Sam knew that life didn’t go his way all that often but that didn’t stop him from longing for something more.
A long table was set up in the middle of the ground with a banner overhead proclaiming: ‘If you can’t eat it, beat it!’ and dozens of country folk were milled around.
Dean looked over at him. Sam sighed, “Just go eat your pie. I’ll be here watching and waiting for you to throw up.”
As Dean went over to sign up, Sam found a patch of shade and plonked down. Something squelched. He’d just sat on half eaten hot dog drenched in soda. Great. Fair 1, Sam 0.
When he looked up, all the contestants were seated and the announcer was explaining the rules. Everyone had a bib with a talking pie on it and the announcer was made up to look like Elvis. Dean was sitting at the end closest to Sam, and gave him the thumbs up when he noticed Sam’s gaze. The other people at the table were … interesting. It seemed to be some kind of costumed thing. There was an elf, a guy with a hockey mask and chainsaw, an elderly lady with a stuffed cat on her head (maybe that’s what she always wore, Sam didn’t want to question it too much), and an old man sitting next to Dean with a pirate’s outfit and a pair of dentures set out on the table in front of him.
Dean noticed the dentures and gave Sam an exaggerated wink.
Out came dozens of pies. The scent wafted over towards the patch of shade and his stomach gurgled.
“On your marks, get set, eat!” Dean was stuffing his face before the whistle even blew. He looked like a deformed chipmunk. Sam wished he had a camera.
The weird cat lady bowed out after the first pie and elf appeared to have an incredibly small mouth. Hockey dude didn’t seem to realize that taking the mask off might like actually help him eat. He was stuffing pie against the mask, forcing some of it through the grill. The announcer came over to help him out but was waved off with a swing of the chainsaw.
It seemed that Dean’s competition was the old pirate. Turned out having no teeth was a boon. Impossibly, he could slide large slices in his mouth and swallow them whole.
Dean was getting frantic by his fifth pie. His already messed up face was further contorted with anxiety. At the tenth pie, he started choking on pie in an effort to force it down quicker. In contrast, the old man was calmly doing his best impersonation of a duck while always staying one pie ahead.
Sam was actually starting to worry. His stubborn son of bitch brother was no match for a guy with no gag reflex and no need to chew.
“Shit,” Sam cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. He got up slowly, muscles stiff from the crooked position he’d been in. Dean needed to be stopped.
He walked up to his brother’s seat. Dean was inhaling at such a speed that he’d become slightly in blue in the face from lack of air.
“Ok, that’s enough. You’re leaving. We’re leaving.” Sam manhandled Dean away.
“But I gotta win the Pie Hat, and the year’s supply of free pie.”
“Yeah, no.”
Back at the car, lying across the front seat, feet up on Sam’s lap, Dean was starting to feel it.
“Sam, Sammy, I’m dying. I can’t feel my tongue. My stomach is exploding. I swear that that old guy was inhuman. You can have the Impala if you treat her good and don’t plug in none of that ipod, fancy ass crap in her,” Dean moaned, grabbing ahold of Sam’s face when he leaned over to check on him.
Sam inhaled quickly then swatted him off. “That’s not funny Dean.”
“I died. You died. Everyone dies. Shouldn’t stop us joking around. Lighten up dude.” Sam couldn’t deny Dean, no matter how much he wanted to bitch him out for being an insensitive jackass.
“Hey, you got some pie on your face.” Sam had had to stop himself from staring at Dean’s red stained mouth and lips but he couldn’t help but reach over and rub a chunk of filling off of his brother’s full bottom lip.
“Hey Sam,” Dean croaked after a little while.
“Yeah Dean.”
“Did you wanna maybe stop doing that.”
Sam froze, his fingertips still grazing Dean’s lips. Dean’s pupils were blown and he was panting slightly. He’d fucked this all up in with a small, unthinking gesture.
Dean then parted his lips deliberately. Sam could only take that as invitation. He slowly pushed a finger into his mouth. Dean made a guttural sound at the back of his throat and started sucking.
Watching his fingers slide in and out of his brother’s slick mouth was so incredibly hot. He pulled them out with a pop then reached over and claimed his mouth in a kiss. It felt like he was burning up, the heat of the car and the heat of Dean’s mouth making him crazy. Eventually, Dean pulled back, a dazed look in his eyes.
“Sammy, did you wanna get off me. I’m gonna puke.” Dean slid out of the car and started heaving.
Sam rubbed his eyes and smiled in giddy delight. Things were looking up for him today.
This is cracky pie!fic. I just watched All Hell Breaks Loose for the billionth time and didn't want to write angst.
Get Me Some Pie, Bitch! ~1400 words, Sam/Dean, PG-13. Unbeta'd and concrit welcome (needed). Dean enters a pie eating contest. Sam gets fondly annoyed.
The road was melting under the intense rays of the sun, the air-conditioning was broken and Sam was fucking melting into the car seat. Hot air pooled in the car despite the open windows and his seatbelt was too hot to touch.
“Dean, Dean,” Sam weakly pawed at his brother. “Can we stop somewhere? I’m getting severely dehydrated and I think I'm starting to hallucinate because of the heat.”
“Quit it, Sam. We’re almost there.” Dean had been sporting a maniacal grin ever since this morning. He’d refused to tell Sam where they were going and Sam didn’t have the energy to dig it out of his jerk of a brother.
Sam slumped against the open window, letting the wind tickle his hair.
“Ah ha! Jackpot!” Dean started drumming on the steering wheel and humming something under his breath.
Sam shot back up, hoping for somewhere with a restroom and cold drinks. He stared out the window. “What? Oh god no, Dean. What the hell?”
County fairs were no longer Sam’s favourite place. Sure, when he was a kid and Dean would sneak him off to the local fair for a day. They’d gorge themselves on candy and then throw up after dozens of rides. To close out the night, with all the fair lights illuminating the sky, Dean would win for him the biggest, girliest stuffed toy. Dad would come back from a hunting trip slightly perplexed by the new member of their household. But he’d never said anything and the unicorn or giant teddy would end up in the trash during their next move. In the end though, Sam'd grown up.
Wiping sweat of his forehead, Sam unstuck himself from the leather and lurched out of the car while his brother practically leap out.
“What are we doing here?” Sam whined.
Dean glanced over, finally acknowledging Sam through his haze of happiness. “Stop making a bitchface you woman. There’s free pie!” Dean did a little moonwalk. “RIP MJ, you sure had style.”
Sam stared at him blankly.
“All you can eat pie eating contest I saw in the paper this morning.” Dean’s grin lit up his whole face. Sam didn’t think he’d ever grow immune to his brother’s charm. “Let’s rock ’n roll!”
While Sam forked out for the fair (Dean claimed he didn’t have any cash on him, the liar) his brother made excited, boastful comments to other people in line. He grabbed Dean’s arm and pulled him away before the natives could start taking offense.
The fair was pretty standard. Bright lights, screaming kids, farm produce and worn out parents. The ground was sticky and muddy, and Sam simply wanted to get a bottle of water and crash in the shade. Instead, he was being hustled towards Dean’s wet dream. Well, one of them at least. Sam still held out hope that he was included in one of these fantasies, that Dean might feel something of the irresistible pull that always drew Sam towards him. By this point, Sam knew that life didn’t go his way all that often but that didn’t stop him from longing for something more.
A long table was set up in the middle of the ground with a banner overhead proclaiming: ‘If you can’t eat it, beat it!’ and dozens of country folk were milled around.
Dean looked over at him. Sam sighed, “Just go eat your pie. I’ll be here watching and waiting for you to throw up.”
As Dean went over to sign up, Sam found a patch of shade and plonked down. Something squelched. He’d just sat on half eaten hot dog drenched in soda. Great. Fair 1, Sam 0.
When he looked up, all the contestants were seated and the announcer was explaining the rules. Everyone had a bib with a talking pie on it and the announcer was made up to look like Elvis. Dean was sitting at the end closest to Sam, and gave him the thumbs up when he noticed Sam’s gaze. The other people at the table were … interesting. It seemed to be some kind of costumed thing. There was an elf, a guy with a hockey mask and chainsaw, an elderly lady with a stuffed cat on her head (maybe that’s what she always wore, Sam didn’t want to question it too much), and an old man sitting next to Dean with a pirate’s outfit and a pair of dentures set out on the table in front of him.
Dean noticed the dentures and gave Sam an exaggerated wink.
Out came dozens of pies. The scent wafted over towards the patch of shade and his stomach gurgled.
“On your marks, get set, eat!” Dean was stuffing his face before the whistle even blew. He looked like a deformed chipmunk. Sam wished he had a camera.
The weird cat lady bowed out after the first pie and elf appeared to have an incredibly small mouth. Hockey dude didn’t seem to realize that taking the mask off might like actually help him eat. He was stuffing pie against the mask, forcing some of it through the grill. The announcer came over to help him out but was waved off with a swing of the chainsaw.
It seemed that Dean’s competition was the old pirate. Turned out having no teeth was a boon. Impossibly, he could slide large slices in his mouth and swallow them whole.
Dean was getting frantic by his fifth pie. His already messed up face was further contorted with anxiety. At the tenth pie, he started choking on pie in an effort to force it down quicker. In contrast, the old man was calmly doing his best impersonation of a duck while always staying one pie ahead.
Sam was actually starting to worry. His stubborn son of bitch brother was no match for a guy with no gag reflex and no need to chew.
“Shit,” Sam cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. He got up slowly, muscles stiff from the crooked position he’d been in. Dean needed to be stopped.
He walked up to his brother’s seat. Dean was inhaling at such a speed that he’d become slightly in blue in the face from lack of air.
“Ok, that’s enough. You’re leaving. We’re leaving.” Sam manhandled Dean away.
“But I gotta win the Pie Hat, and the year’s supply of free pie.”
“Yeah, no.”
Back at the car, lying across the front seat, feet up on Sam’s lap, Dean was starting to feel it.
“Sam, Sammy, I’m dying. I can’t feel my tongue. My stomach is exploding. I swear that that old guy was inhuman. You can have the Impala if you treat her good and don’t plug in none of that ipod, fancy ass crap in her,” Dean moaned, grabbing ahold of Sam’s face when he leaned over to check on him.
Sam inhaled quickly then swatted him off. “That’s not funny Dean.”
“I died. You died. Everyone dies. Shouldn’t stop us joking around. Lighten up dude.” Sam couldn’t deny Dean, no matter how much he wanted to bitch him out for being an insensitive jackass.
“Hey, you got some pie on your face.” Sam had had to stop himself from staring at Dean’s red stained mouth and lips but he couldn’t help but reach over and rub a chunk of filling off of his brother’s full bottom lip.
“Hey Sam,” Dean croaked after a little while.
“Yeah Dean.”
“Did you wanna maybe stop doing that.”
Sam froze, his fingertips still grazing Dean’s lips. Dean’s pupils were blown and he was panting slightly. He’d fucked this all up in with a small, unthinking gesture.
Dean then parted his lips deliberately. Sam could only take that as invitation. He slowly pushed a finger into his mouth. Dean made a guttural sound at the back of his throat and started sucking.
Watching his fingers slide in and out of his brother’s slick mouth was so incredibly hot. He pulled them out with a pop then reached over and claimed his mouth in a kiss. It felt like he was burning up, the heat of the car and the heat of Dean’s mouth making him crazy. Eventually, Dean pulled back, a dazed look in his eyes.
“Sammy, did you wanna get off me. I’m gonna puke.” Dean slid out of the car and started heaving.
Sam rubbed his eyes and smiled in giddy delight. Things were looking up for him today.