fic: This is what my youth is for
TITLE: This is what my youth is for
WORDS: 1.4k
PROMPT: checkthemargins asked for Dean's been healing, Sam's got an office job, Dean shows up and there is cubicle sex.
A/N: oddishly told me to post this. original prompt here
WARNING: I never write PWP but that's what this is. Post Purgatory PWP. P3WP. Also, it's almost 5am. Good morrow.
Dean is back from Purgatory. It was like a really horrifying camping trip. He found a cave and lived in its bowels. But anyway. Now it's back to the real world and things he used to do, like knowing where Sam is and what he is doing at all times.
Today Sam is at work. Sam has this very boring, very temporary office job. It will last him until September. Dean was gone a week in Earth time but it was ostensibly going to be Forever, and so when he showed up in the bathroom of Sam's motel without explanation, he kind of promised him they'd hang around for a while. Moment of weakness.
Anyway. Dean is in an elevator. He has a salad from down the street in a paper bag under one arm and he's wearing a suit that fits really well, and the chick that gets in on floor two totally checks him out.
"You going to floor six?" Dean asks, because she hasn't pushed a button.
She smiles. "Yeah. You don't exactly look like a delivery boy."
"Nah," he says. "I'm bringing someone lunch. Sam Winchester. I'm his...I'm his boyfriend."
Well.
"Where's his desk?" he asks when the doors open.
"Over there."
"Thanks."
She smiles as she goes into an office.
Dean walks near-silently through the rows of empty cubicles, trying to sneak up on Sam but Sam's used to it in life and spins around on his chair as Dean's walking up. He looks Dean over, head to foot, leaning back in his chair, one hand on his leg. "You bring me lunch?"
Dean puts a hand on the top of the wall and says, "Yeah, you caught me."
Sam is way too big for his cubicle. Dean would hate it here. At least it's one of those almost boxed in ones, where there's just a door shape missing and the rest is private. He wonders if Sam's boss knows that Sam has half a library in here and the DVD set of Planet Earth.
"Do you do any work?"
"I told you, I get like one project a day. Who knew that the real world is full of people who do nothing but get paid for it."
"And meanwhile, we're...."
"Right?" Sam smiles at him, a real smile, with eyecrinkles. "Thanks for bringing me lunch."
"Oh jeeze," Dean says. "Whatever."
"C'mere," Sam says.
Dean looks at him. At the line of his dick visible in his pants and to his face to guage whether Sam's being a tease. "Really?"
"Yeah," Sam says. "Everyone's at lunch. We're in the back. Just a kiss, come here."
They didn't used to discuss this. It's kind of nauseating, kind of exciting. Sam grabs him by the tie like he's going to yank him down but Dean goes willingly, pushing their noses together. Sam smiles against his lips, like he's not aware Dean's trying to be annoying. After they part for air, Sam says, "Hey." and kisses him again.
Dean is horrified at how he goes all weak kneed. He puts a hand on the desk on either side of Sam's shoulders, and kisses Sam against it, the desk chair wheeling back. Sam, always willing to play this game of one-uppsmanship which has led many dangerous situations over the years, rubs his palms up the back of Dean's legs and over Dean's ass.
"I've got something," Sam says.
"Uh."
Sam fumbles over for his pencil holder. Dean's eyes snag on the sight of Sam's fingers dipping into the container and coming out curled around a thing of lube.
Dean watches Sam squeeze the tube, still closed, hold it, waiting for Dean's okay. Dean says, "You for real? I thought you had to work."
"I get half an hour for lunch," Sam tells him.
Dean looks out the cubicle but there's the empty one opposite. He stands away from the doorway at least. It's pretty much a symbolic gesture.
"This is stupid," he says. His breathing is harsher than a second ago, hard to think about anything other than Sam holding the lube, touching Dean's leg again with one hand. "Right here?"
Sam stays seated, watching, nods a little.
"Okay. Okay, if you're going to do it, just--"
He grabs the tube from Sam and unscrews the top, and grabs Sam's wrist so that he can squirt lube onto Sam's upturned fingers.
"There." He doesn't pause before he unbuttons his pants, tugs them down to his knees and then stands there. Sam rubs lube around on his fingers and looks up at Dean like he's deep in thought.
"Sam," Dean says. "Clock's ticking."
"All the time in the world," Sam tells him.
Dean stares down at him, thinking, that is so not true. Sometimes you think that and then it's gone.
He doesn't say it. That would make him a grade-A douchebag. But the look on his face must strike a chord. Sam's fingers tighten on Dean's thigh and Dean moves his feet shoulder-width apart to give Sam access. Sam reaches around, slipping fingers past Dean's boxer briefs to feel him. He doesn't rub lube down his crack or anything, just goes straight for it, pressing a fingertip against his hole and forcing it, just enough so that Dean feels the burn.
"Told me to hurry," Sam tells him.
"More."
Sam frowns. "You know what, this isn't--"
He stands, the chair skidding back to the opposite wall of the cubicle as he manoevers Dean so that he's got his palms against the desk, on either side of a three-tiered paper organizer. He pushes a hand up Dean's back so that Dean bends forward a little and then brushes his fingertips against Dean's hole again, circles this time, pushes his index finger in in exploratory movements. The lube was cold but it's warming up. Dean's breathing is harsh and the intrusion is uncomfortable in familiar ways. His heart is hammering in anticipation and he tries to calm it down a little; they are in a place of business, after all. The thought makes Dean shift on his feet and Sam curls the finger inside him.
Sam puts his forehead between Dean's shoulderblades and wraps an arm around his middle. He adds a second finger which has got Dean widening his stance, resting his head against the organizer. Sam's flatpalming his ass, moving both of his fingers inside Dean now, pulling breaths from him that are turning into quiet noises. Dean swallows and asks, "You want me to--"
"No, this is good." Sam starts rubbing his other hand against Dean's stomach, through the shirt and then pushing up under it. He scratches over Dean's abs, moving lower while Dean starts thinking really frantically about how if Sam doesn't touch his dick he might--
"You gonna beg?" Sam asks. "That's always been this secret fantasy of mine."
"Bullshit," Dean says, can't help it because it's Sam.
Sam palms him through his boxer briefs, squeezing his dick through the cotton.
Dean pushes up on his forearms so he can feel Sam all along his back. He moans, "Oh, that's right sweetheart." and Sam stills, and then pulls his fingers out of him a little too quick.
Sam fumbles his pants down with a jangle of his belt and then yanks Dean's underwear half down his thighs and then presses in close to slide his cock along the slick crease of Dean's ass. He noses the back of Dean's neck and wraps an arm around Dean's chest while jacks him once, twice, knuckles hitting his desk and Dean saying, "Baby, shut the fuck up," when Sam groans against his ear loudly.
Sam comes on his back and Dean ends up shooting onto something important, maybe.
"And there's your secret fantasy," he tells Sam, breathless and smug. "Easy."
He tries to get out from between Sam and the desk, but settles for rubbing back against him when he pulls Dean into a back to front hug and kisses his ear.
Later, after Sam licks into his mouth for five minutes and Dean has to leave before things get really loud, Dean's back in the elevator. He folds his arms across his chest and smirks into the middle distance and people give him a wide berth. When he's leaving the building, he gets a text from Sam that says, Dude, I think my boss knows we're fucking!
Dean shoots back, Lucky I told her I was your boyfriend then
Later in the day even, he finds himself mooning around the motel, thinking how maybe he was wrong. Maybe they have all the time in the world to do this right.
WORDS: 1.4k
PROMPT: checkthemargins asked for Dean's been healing, Sam's got an office job, Dean shows up and there is cubicle sex.
A/N: oddishly told me to post this. original prompt here
WARNING: I never write PWP but that's what this is. Post Purgatory PWP. P3WP. Also, it's almost 5am. Good morrow.
Dean is back from Purgatory. It was like a really horrifying camping trip. He found a cave and lived in its bowels. But anyway. Now it's back to the real world and things he used to do, like knowing where Sam is and what he is doing at all times.
Today Sam is at work. Sam has this very boring, very temporary office job. It will last him until September. Dean was gone a week in Earth time but it was ostensibly going to be Forever, and so when he showed up in the bathroom of Sam's motel without explanation, he kind of promised him they'd hang around for a while. Moment of weakness.
Anyway. Dean is in an elevator. He has a salad from down the street in a paper bag under one arm and he's wearing a suit that fits really well, and the chick that gets in on floor two totally checks him out.
"You going to floor six?" Dean asks, because she hasn't pushed a button.
She smiles. "Yeah. You don't exactly look like a delivery boy."
"Nah," he says. "I'm bringing someone lunch. Sam Winchester. I'm his...I'm his boyfriend."
Well.
"Where's his desk?" he asks when the doors open.
"Over there."
"Thanks."
She smiles as she goes into an office.
Dean walks near-silently through the rows of empty cubicles, trying to sneak up on Sam but Sam's used to it in life and spins around on his chair as Dean's walking up. He looks Dean over, head to foot, leaning back in his chair, one hand on his leg. "You bring me lunch?"
Dean puts a hand on the top of the wall and says, "Yeah, you caught me."
Sam is way too big for his cubicle. Dean would hate it here. At least it's one of those almost boxed in ones, where there's just a door shape missing and the rest is private. He wonders if Sam's boss knows that Sam has half a library in here and the DVD set of Planet Earth.
"Do you do any work?"
"I told you, I get like one project a day. Who knew that the real world is full of people who do nothing but get paid for it."
"And meanwhile, we're...."
"Right?" Sam smiles at him, a real smile, with eyecrinkles. "Thanks for bringing me lunch."
"Oh jeeze," Dean says. "Whatever."
"C'mere," Sam says.
Dean looks at him. At the line of his dick visible in his pants and to his face to guage whether Sam's being a tease. "Really?"
"Yeah," Sam says. "Everyone's at lunch. We're in the back. Just a kiss, come here."
They didn't used to discuss this. It's kind of nauseating, kind of exciting. Sam grabs him by the tie like he's going to yank him down but Dean goes willingly, pushing their noses together. Sam smiles against his lips, like he's not aware Dean's trying to be annoying. After they part for air, Sam says, "Hey." and kisses him again.
Dean is horrified at how he goes all weak kneed. He puts a hand on the desk on either side of Sam's shoulders, and kisses Sam against it, the desk chair wheeling back. Sam, always willing to play this game of one-uppsmanship which has led many dangerous situations over the years, rubs his palms up the back of Dean's legs and over Dean's ass.
"I've got something," Sam says.
"Uh."
Sam fumbles over for his pencil holder. Dean's eyes snag on the sight of Sam's fingers dipping into the container and coming out curled around a thing of lube.
Dean watches Sam squeeze the tube, still closed, hold it, waiting for Dean's okay. Dean says, "You for real? I thought you had to work."
"I get half an hour for lunch," Sam tells him.
Dean looks out the cubicle but there's the empty one opposite. He stands away from the doorway at least. It's pretty much a symbolic gesture.
"This is stupid," he says. His breathing is harsher than a second ago, hard to think about anything other than Sam holding the lube, touching Dean's leg again with one hand. "Right here?"
Sam stays seated, watching, nods a little.
"Okay. Okay, if you're going to do it, just--"
He grabs the tube from Sam and unscrews the top, and grabs Sam's wrist so that he can squirt lube onto Sam's upturned fingers.
"There." He doesn't pause before he unbuttons his pants, tugs them down to his knees and then stands there. Sam rubs lube around on his fingers and looks up at Dean like he's deep in thought.
"Sam," Dean says. "Clock's ticking."
"All the time in the world," Sam tells him.
Dean stares down at him, thinking, that is so not true. Sometimes you think that and then it's gone.
He doesn't say it. That would make him a grade-A douchebag. But the look on his face must strike a chord. Sam's fingers tighten on Dean's thigh and Dean moves his feet shoulder-width apart to give Sam access. Sam reaches around, slipping fingers past Dean's boxer briefs to feel him. He doesn't rub lube down his crack or anything, just goes straight for it, pressing a fingertip against his hole and forcing it, just enough so that Dean feels the burn.
"Told me to hurry," Sam tells him.
"More."
Sam frowns. "You know what, this isn't--"
He stands, the chair skidding back to the opposite wall of the cubicle as he manoevers Dean so that he's got his palms against the desk, on either side of a three-tiered paper organizer. He pushes a hand up Dean's back so that Dean bends forward a little and then brushes his fingertips against Dean's hole again, circles this time, pushes his index finger in in exploratory movements. The lube was cold but it's warming up. Dean's breathing is harsh and the intrusion is uncomfortable in familiar ways. His heart is hammering in anticipation and he tries to calm it down a little; they are in a place of business, after all. The thought makes Dean shift on his feet and Sam curls the finger inside him.
Sam puts his forehead between Dean's shoulderblades and wraps an arm around his middle. He adds a second finger which has got Dean widening his stance, resting his head against the organizer. Sam's flatpalming his ass, moving both of his fingers inside Dean now, pulling breaths from him that are turning into quiet noises. Dean swallows and asks, "You want me to--"
"No, this is good." Sam starts rubbing his other hand against Dean's stomach, through the shirt and then pushing up under it. He scratches over Dean's abs, moving lower while Dean starts thinking really frantically about how if Sam doesn't touch his dick he might--
"You gonna beg?" Sam asks. "That's always been this secret fantasy of mine."
"Bullshit," Dean says, can't help it because it's Sam.
Sam palms him through his boxer briefs, squeezing his dick through the cotton.
Dean pushes up on his forearms so he can feel Sam all along his back. He moans, "Oh, that's right sweetheart." and Sam stills, and then pulls his fingers out of him a little too quick.
Sam fumbles his pants down with a jangle of his belt and then yanks Dean's underwear half down his thighs and then presses in close to slide his cock along the slick crease of Dean's ass. He noses the back of Dean's neck and wraps an arm around Dean's chest while jacks him once, twice, knuckles hitting his desk and Dean saying, "Baby, shut the fuck up," when Sam groans against his ear loudly.
Sam comes on his back and Dean ends up shooting onto something important, maybe.
"And there's your secret fantasy," he tells Sam, breathless and smug. "Easy."
He tries to get out from between Sam and the desk, but settles for rubbing back against him when he pulls Dean into a back to front hug and kisses his ear.
Later, after Sam licks into his mouth for five minutes and Dean has to leave before things get really loud, Dean's back in the elevator. He folds his arms across his chest and smirks into the middle distance and people give him a wide berth. When he's leaving the building, he gets a text from Sam that says, Dude, I think my boss knows we're fucking!
Dean shoots back, Lucky I told her I was your boyfriend then
Later in the day even, he finds himself mooning around the motel, thinking how maybe he was wrong. Maybe they have all the time in the world to do this right.