Fic Quotes #8
Ships/genres this post: gen, Sam/Dean (including one Weecest), John/OMC
Sammy flops back against his chair, the plastic back creaking distressingly, and glares down at his half-empty bowl. “This isn’t cool. We’ve been eating cereal for three days now ‘cause we can’t afford real food, and we’re living in a rubbish apartment that smells weird, and we have no idea where our dad is. This is,” he pauses, floundering, and looks up at Dean from under his scruffy bangs. “This is seriously uncool.”
--Lashings of Ginger Beer, by wanttobeatree, (gen)
===
Dean slides his hand down Sam's stomach, Sam shivering under it as Dean reaches down to palm Sam's cock through his jeans, grinds the heel of his hand into it as Sam whimpers a little, tiny nip at his earlobe making him arch up into Dean's hand as he whispers, “Got myself off in the bathroom of the diner thinking about sucking your cock, Sammy,” fucking christ, Dean better do it quick or he'll just be licking the come off of Sam's boxers again.
-- filthy weecest with fake-innocent!Sammy and needy!Dean and suspicious-but-in-denial!John, by saltandbyrne, (Sam/Dean, weecest)
===
Hey, when - when I go... truth is, Sammy, I'm expecting great things outta ya. Fuck hunting and the blue-collar shit, you're gonna make Winchester history, living large off some cushy lawyering gig. I'm talking six-figure salary here, geekstein, and like, a pool in the backyard filled with those… colory straw things…I think they're called noodles? Yeah. Yeah, there better be some fucking noodles in that pool, bitch. Ain't no kind of pool without some noodles.
--Voicemail, by (FF)rockpaperscissor
===
Dean was about to give into Sam’s mouth when the sound of squeaking wheels jolted him back into reality. He pushed against Sam knocking him against the pile of pillows against the headboard.
“Don’t stop on account of me.” The woman standing there said. “I’m just looking for some sheets.
“Sorry.” Dean said, staring at Sam.
“You know anything about sheets?” She asked.
Dean was immediately furious thinking she assumed that just because he was making out with his brother that he new about sheets. He was about to inform her that he was all man when Sam spoke up.
“I’d get the three hundred thread count Egyptian cotton.”
“Wife.” Dean said under his breath.
“Bitch.”
“Your face is.” Dean shot back.
“What the hell does that even mean?”
“You’ve got bitch face!” Dean yelled, oblivious to the woman still standing in front of them.
“Thanks for the help.” She said before rushing away.
--
“I’ve got a present for you too.” Sam said.
Dean’s eyes lit up. He loved presents. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Sam said, reaching over to undo his belt.
--
On their second attempt they had all the right ingredients, perfectly measured and divided between the pans when Dean ran his hands into the back of Sam’s jeans.
“How long until it’s done?” He asked, breathing into Sam’s ear.
“Fifty minutes.”
Dean set the kitchen timer once Sam had the pans in the oven and then quickly pulled him to the bedroom.
Sam’s head was rhythmically slamming into the headboard when he heard it go off.
“The cake.” Sam said, amid his groans.
“Fuck the cake!” Dean yelled.
Afterwards Dean rolled over and promptly fell asleep while Sam rushed to the kitchen. The smoke pouring out of the oven wasn’t what he was hoping for. Dean woke up an hour later to see the cake charred and still smoldering in the garbage can.
“Oh man.” He said pouting.
--
The next fifteen minutes waiting for the cake to cool were so agonizing Dean found himself reading how to drive his husband wild in bed.
“It says we should try role-playing to heat things up.”
“Yeah, because nearly setting the house on fire yesterday wasn’t enough.”
“What about dirty talk?” Dean asked.
“Oh yeah baby, fuck me with that hard cock. Yeah baby, you’re in so deep. Fuck me fuck me. I’m just a whore for your rock hard cock.” Sam said.
Dean lowered the magazine to his lap hoping to hide his arousal. Lucky for him Sam was too interested in watching the cake cool to notice.
“Yeah fucker, put it in me.” Sam continued. “Yeah bitch, that cock was made for my ass.”
“Stop.” Dean said quietly.
Sam turned around to see him sunk down in the chair, his hands folded awkwardly over the magazine.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Dean shrugged before adjusting himself.
--
Of course his answer was yes, mostly because he knew Dean would never be able to maintain a healthy relationship with anyone else, and if by some miracle he could, Sam would simply find that person and kill them.
--
Sam took it from him. “Why would I need twenty books at once?”
“The way I see it.” Dean said moving closer to him. “If you don’t read, you’ll lose that big sexy brain of yours and I’ll have nothing to be attracted to.”
“You do realize you just said that while staring at my ass right?”
--
“You’ve got lube in your tool belt but I make everything gay?”
--
“Why are you starting with the kitchen?”
“The way I see it, after a hard days work, I will need cake.”
Sam laughed. “So you’re doing the kitchen first for me?”
Dean nodded. “Cooking makes you happy and cake makes me happy.”
“You make me happy.” Sam said quietly.
“Aww. Come here.” Dean said holding his arms out.
Sam crossed the kitchen to sit on Dean’s lap.
“That’s the gayest thing you’ve ever said.”
“You are such an asshole.”
--
“How to you know your big gay pies are any good?” Dean asked, as they walked to her door.
“They’re not pie, they’re mini quiche.”
“That’s French for gay pie."
--
“Excuse me.”
“Yes?” She asked smiling at him.
“My…” Dean thought for a moment. “My friend is sick and I need to make some chicken noodle soup.”
“You could just buy it in a can.”
Dean felt like punching her in the face. If he bought it in a can, he’d have to turn the kitchen upside down to locate the fucking can opener which he assumed was in cahoots with the toaster, hiding somewhere, laughing at him.
--
“Everyone is going to pass the house and say ‘There’s the gays with their pansies.’” Dean said. “They’ll say ‘Probably inside dancing shirtless to Cher.’”
“Right.” Sam said. “Because we dance to Cher so often.”
“That’s what they’ll say.”
“Okay.” Sam said, turning Dean towards him. “If you ever hear anyone say that, I’ll let you fuck me on the front lawn.”
“What good would that do?”
Dean didn’t know why, but he thought that was probably a good idea.
“Well, they’ll say ‘Oh, he just planted pansies for his bitch.’” Sam said. “And ‘Look at that gigantic cock, what a man!’”
--
After he had completed the kitchen, Sam spent an entire day organizing it, making sure to tell Dean where everything was so he wouldn’t have another neat psychotic episode while trying to find something. The toaster remained on the countertop but Dean was still sure it took off in the night to party with the mixer and the coffee maker.
--
“I’m so excited!” Sam yelled. “They have horses!”
“Do you like horses?”
“I think so. I’ve never ridden a horse.”
Dean smirked. “But you have a lot of experience with riding.”
“Shut it.” Sam said.
“I meant when I’m driving.”
“Oh.”
“My cock into you.”
“Shut it!” Sam yelled again.
--
“What position do you play again?” Dean asked.
Sure, Sam might have been able to buy a jersey, but there was no way he’d be able to keep up the jock persona if asked questions about what actually went on in the game.
“I’m the quarterback.” Sam said. “But I really want to be the tight end.”
“Tight end?” Dean asked, hoping Sam didn’t see him flinch.
“Yeah. I think I’d be an excellent tight end.”
When Sam spoke he made sure to emphasize tight. It was working because every time he said it, Dean’s jeans got tighter and tighter.
“I’m sure you would.”
“Or.” Sam said, moving down the sofa. “Wide receiver.”
“Christ.” Dean muttered adjusting his glasses. “I don’t know what I can do to help you.”
“Please Professor, I’m willing to do all the work.” Sam said. “I know it’s hard but I can handle it.”
“It’ll take a while to make everything up.” Dean said.
“That’s no problem. I just need to be done by the time baseball starts. I can do it.”
“Baseball?” Dean asked. “What position do you play?”
Sam smirked inching even closer before whispering into Dean’s ear. “Catcher.”
His tongue grazed the edge of his ear and he had it. He couldn’t handle it anymore. Sam was going to pass his class with flying colors.
--
Dean was out of ideas on how to get John to say or do anything. If he would just react, they could move on with their lives and stop worrying about it, but nothing was working.
“If it was me?” Dean said pointing at himself. “I’d be like ‘Hey you crazy buttfuckers, what the hell!’”
“I said it didn’t matter who I was fucking and he didn’t say anything.”
“That’s because he knows I do the fucking.” Dean whispered. “I do that.”
“I have a folder on my hard drive that suggests otherwise.”
“You said there was no film in that camera!”
“It’s a digital camera dumbass it doesn’t take film.”
--
Dean wasn’t going to hug him, but Sam didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t. He wasn’t perfect, but so few people are. Sam gave him a quick hug making John freeze up in the middle of doing the dishes.
“Gay.” Dean said walking back into the kitchen.
“You are.” Sam shot back.
“Not even.”
John put down the bowl he was washing and turned around to look at Dean. Dean didn’t know what he was thinking or why he was grinning at him like that.
“I heard there’s a whole folder on a hard drive that suggests otherwise.”
“Son of a bitch!”
--
Dean smiled and took the ring away from him so he could slide it on himself. It fit pretty well even though he had no idea what size Sam wore. He went to the jewelry store with only a comparison based on the size of his cock to which the young woman there was horrified to hear. Dean didn’t see what the big deal was. He just told her one finger was good, but three felt more like Sam.
--
“She [Mary] thinks your tattoo is hardcore.”
“Really?” John asked. “She said that?”
“Oh yeah. She said it makes you look dangerous.”
“Well.” John smiled. “I guess.”
“Your mother however says she made herself quite clear about how she feels regarding tattoos and you’re grounded when you get to heaven.”
“Oh man.”
“Merry Christmas.”
--
“I understand your frustration, but I’m pretty sure he always says please and thank you.”
“Not even, when he left this morning do you know what he told me?”
“Yes.”
“He said “Hey bitch, if this house isn’t clean by the time I get back I’m making you suck my cock and then beating you. If anyone asks you walked into a door.” And then he punched me in the face and broke my nose.”
“Oh, so we’re not even pretending to exist in reality anymore?” Lloyd asked. “Did I tell you about the hot ghost orgy I had last week? It was total asses and elbows. I didn’t know what was going in me or what I was in and I didn’t care.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, Casper and I gang banged Obi-Wan.”
--
Of course Dean had never come out himself, so he didn’t really know what to say or if he should sugarcoat it. Shelia and Terry knew they were gay because they lived together and they had talked to Rose about it at length, but Bobby had known them for a lot longer and he was well aware they were brothers. Dean wasn’t really sure how to say it, so as usual he just blurted it out.
“So, I like when Sam does me in the ass.”
“Dean!”
“I’m also pretty fond of doing him in the ass, but that doesn’t happen very often.” Dean said. “We’re in love and as our friend we wanted to let you know.”
“Okay.” Bobby said as he picked up a cookie. “Are you going to tell me that the sky is blue next?”
--
“Okay! Why does everyone thing I’m like ultra gay?” Sam asked. “Lloyd, glasses go on coasters, you know that.”
“Sorry Sam.”
“It’s just…” Sam said as he took off his apron. “I’m not really, really gay. I had a girlfriend.”
“Okay.” John nodded. “Sorry.”
“I have crème brulee for dessert.”
--
"I have a special big boy meal to cook for your special day."
"Ooooh!" Dean squealed. "And you'll make me special baked wonis with cheese!"
"Yes."
"Tatos!"
"Of course."
"Four pies each more delicious than the last!"
"Yes, Dean." Sam sighed. "I promise."
"And then a pie filled with another pie!"
"I uh…I haven't quite figured that out yet, but I'll do my best."
--
When he sauntered into the kitchen in his robe he had the biggest shit eating grin on his face which Sam knew was actually a cocksucking grin, but it was a very subtle difference.
--
"Smells great, Sammy."
"Thanks, dad. Happy Thanksgiving."
"You too." John said. "Yeah, you too…So last night I'm nailing Lloyd in the bathroom and…"
"Oh, Jesus…"
"His face is like pressed into the tile, and I'm biting him on his neck because he's a little whore."
"Right."
"And I notice the tile work in the bathroom is really nice. Dean did a great job."
"Oh…yeah, he did. He's very talented. I picked that out, we were going to go with a neutral but…"
"He shot his load all over it. I made him lick it clean." John said with a wink. "He's such a whore. Yeah, I came pretty damn hard inside him."
"I gave Dean head last night."
"Oh, Sam." John whispered. "I don't need to know about that."
"But you…"
"It's Thanksgiving for Christ's sake. Show some respect to Christopher Columbus."
"Right." Sam sighed. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Sam. Did you even make breakfast?"
"Yes, it was warm an hour ago."
--
A spring wedding in the backyard sounded just perfect to Dean. He, of course, would be the ring bearer and Sam would be the flower Sammy. Bobby would be the best man who thought the union was a sin against God and then they could all eat some delicious cake and get shitfaced.
--Samcakes 'Verse (link goes to the master post I made for my own convenience, links from there go to the relevant posts at bitchandjerk's LJ), bitchandjerk, (Sam/Dean, John/OMC)
Sammy flops back against his chair, the plastic back creaking distressingly, and glares down at his half-empty bowl. “This isn’t cool. We’ve been eating cereal for three days now ‘cause we can’t afford real food, and we’re living in a rubbish apartment that smells weird, and we have no idea where our dad is. This is,” he pauses, floundering, and looks up at Dean from under his scruffy bangs. “This is seriously uncool.”
--Lashings of Ginger Beer, by wanttobeatree, (gen)
===
Dean slides his hand down Sam's stomach, Sam shivering under it as Dean reaches down to palm Sam's cock through his jeans, grinds the heel of his hand into it as Sam whimpers a little, tiny nip at his earlobe making him arch up into Dean's hand as he whispers, “Got myself off in the bathroom of the diner thinking about sucking your cock, Sammy,” fucking christ, Dean better do it quick or he'll just be licking the come off of Sam's boxers again.
-- filthy weecest with fake-innocent!Sammy and needy!Dean and suspicious-but-in-denial!John, by saltandbyrne, (Sam/Dean, weecest)
===
Hey, when - when I go... truth is, Sammy, I'm expecting great things outta ya. Fuck hunting and the blue-collar shit, you're gonna make Winchester history, living large off some cushy lawyering gig. I'm talking six-figure salary here, geekstein, and like, a pool in the backyard filled with those… colory straw things…I think they're called noodles? Yeah. Yeah, there better be some fucking noodles in that pool, bitch. Ain't no kind of pool without some noodles.
--Voicemail, by (FF)rockpaperscissor
===
Dean was about to give into Sam’s mouth when the sound of squeaking wheels jolted him back into reality. He pushed against Sam knocking him against the pile of pillows against the headboard.
“Don’t stop on account of me.” The woman standing there said. “I’m just looking for some sheets.
“Sorry.” Dean said, staring at Sam.
“You know anything about sheets?” She asked.
Dean was immediately furious thinking she assumed that just because he was making out with his brother that he new about sheets. He was about to inform her that he was all man when Sam spoke up.
“I’d get the three hundred thread count Egyptian cotton.”
“Wife.” Dean said under his breath.
“Bitch.”
“Your face is.” Dean shot back.
“What the hell does that even mean?”
“You’ve got bitch face!” Dean yelled, oblivious to the woman still standing in front of them.
“Thanks for the help.” She said before rushing away.
--
“I’ve got a present for you too.” Sam said.
Dean’s eyes lit up. He loved presents. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Sam said, reaching over to undo his belt.
--
On their second attempt they had all the right ingredients, perfectly measured and divided between the pans when Dean ran his hands into the back of Sam’s jeans.
“How long until it’s done?” He asked, breathing into Sam’s ear.
“Fifty minutes.”
Dean set the kitchen timer once Sam had the pans in the oven and then quickly pulled him to the bedroom.
Sam’s head was rhythmically slamming into the headboard when he heard it go off.
“The cake.” Sam said, amid his groans.
“Fuck the cake!” Dean yelled.
Afterwards Dean rolled over and promptly fell asleep while Sam rushed to the kitchen. The smoke pouring out of the oven wasn’t what he was hoping for. Dean woke up an hour later to see the cake charred and still smoldering in the garbage can.
“Oh man.” He said pouting.
--
The next fifteen minutes waiting for the cake to cool were so agonizing Dean found himself reading how to drive his husband wild in bed.
“It says we should try role-playing to heat things up.”
“Yeah, because nearly setting the house on fire yesterday wasn’t enough.”
“What about dirty talk?” Dean asked.
“Oh yeah baby, fuck me with that hard cock. Yeah baby, you’re in so deep. Fuck me fuck me. I’m just a whore for your rock hard cock.” Sam said.
Dean lowered the magazine to his lap hoping to hide his arousal. Lucky for him Sam was too interested in watching the cake cool to notice.
“Yeah fucker, put it in me.” Sam continued. “Yeah bitch, that cock was made for my ass.”
“Stop.” Dean said quietly.
Sam turned around to see him sunk down in the chair, his hands folded awkwardly over the magazine.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Dean shrugged before adjusting himself.
--
Of course his answer was yes, mostly because he knew Dean would never be able to maintain a healthy relationship with anyone else, and if by some miracle he could, Sam would simply find that person and kill them.
--
Sam took it from him. “Why would I need twenty books at once?”
“The way I see it.” Dean said moving closer to him. “If you don’t read, you’ll lose that big sexy brain of yours and I’ll have nothing to be attracted to.”
“You do realize you just said that while staring at my ass right?”
--
“You’ve got lube in your tool belt but I make everything gay?”
--
“Why are you starting with the kitchen?”
“The way I see it, after a hard days work, I will need cake.”
Sam laughed. “So you’re doing the kitchen first for me?”
Dean nodded. “Cooking makes you happy and cake makes me happy.”
“You make me happy.” Sam said quietly.
“Aww. Come here.” Dean said holding his arms out.
Sam crossed the kitchen to sit on Dean’s lap.
“That’s the gayest thing you’ve ever said.”
“You are such an asshole.”
--
“How to you know your big gay pies are any good?” Dean asked, as they walked to her door.
“They’re not pie, they’re mini quiche.”
“That’s French for gay pie."
--
“Excuse me.”
“Yes?” She asked smiling at him.
“My…” Dean thought for a moment. “My friend is sick and I need to make some chicken noodle soup.”
“You could just buy it in a can.”
Dean felt like punching her in the face. If he bought it in a can, he’d have to turn the kitchen upside down to locate the fucking can opener which he assumed was in cahoots with the toaster, hiding somewhere, laughing at him.
--
“Everyone is going to pass the house and say ‘There’s the gays with their pansies.’” Dean said. “They’ll say ‘Probably inside dancing shirtless to Cher.’”
“Right.” Sam said. “Because we dance to Cher so often.”
“That’s what they’ll say.”
“Okay.” Sam said, turning Dean towards him. “If you ever hear anyone say that, I’ll let you fuck me on the front lawn.”
“What good would that do?”
Dean didn’t know why, but he thought that was probably a good idea.
“Well, they’ll say ‘Oh, he just planted pansies for his bitch.’” Sam said. “And ‘Look at that gigantic cock, what a man!’”
--
After he had completed the kitchen, Sam spent an entire day organizing it, making sure to tell Dean where everything was so he wouldn’t have another neat psychotic episode while trying to find something. The toaster remained on the countertop but Dean was still sure it took off in the night to party with the mixer and the coffee maker.
--
“I’m so excited!” Sam yelled. “They have horses!”
“Do you like horses?”
“I think so. I’ve never ridden a horse.”
Dean smirked. “But you have a lot of experience with riding.”
“Shut it.” Sam said.
“I meant when I’m driving.”
“Oh.”
“My cock into you.”
“Shut it!” Sam yelled again.
--
“What position do you play again?” Dean asked.
Sure, Sam might have been able to buy a jersey, but there was no way he’d be able to keep up the jock persona if asked questions about what actually went on in the game.
“I’m the quarterback.” Sam said. “But I really want to be the tight end.”
“Tight end?” Dean asked, hoping Sam didn’t see him flinch.
“Yeah. I think I’d be an excellent tight end.”
When Sam spoke he made sure to emphasize tight. It was working because every time he said it, Dean’s jeans got tighter and tighter.
“I’m sure you would.”
“Or.” Sam said, moving down the sofa. “Wide receiver.”
“Christ.” Dean muttered adjusting his glasses. “I don’t know what I can do to help you.”
“Please Professor, I’m willing to do all the work.” Sam said. “I know it’s hard but I can handle it.”
“It’ll take a while to make everything up.” Dean said.
“That’s no problem. I just need to be done by the time baseball starts. I can do it.”
“Baseball?” Dean asked. “What position do you play?”
Sam smirked inching even closer before whispering into Dean’s ear. “Catcher.”
His tongue grazed the edge of his ear and he had it. He couldn’t handle it anymore. Sam was going to pass his class with flying colors.
--
Dean was out of ideas on how to get John to say or do anything. If he would just react, they could move on with their lives and stop worrying about it, but nothing was working.
“If it was me?” Dean said pointing at himself. “I’d be like ‘Hey you crazy buttfuckers, what the hell!’”
“I said it didn’t matter who I was fucking and he didn’t say anything.”
“That’s because he knows I do the fucking.” Dean whispered. “I do that.”
“I have a folder on my hard drive that suggests otherwise.”
“You said there was no film in that camera!”
“It’s a digital camera dumbass it doesn’t take film.”
--
Dean wasn’t going to hug him, but Sam didn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t. He wasn’t perfect, but so few people are. Sam gave him a quick hug making John freeze up in the middle of doing the dishes.
“Gay.” Dean said walking back into the kitchen.
“You are.” Sam shot back.
“Not even.”
John put down the bowl he was washing and turned around to look at Dean. Dean didn’t know what he was thinking or why he was grinning at him like that.
“I heard there’s a whole folder on a hard drive that suggests otherwise.”
“Son of a bitch!”
--
Dean smiled and took the ring away from him so he could slide it on himself. It fit pretty well even though he had no idea what size Sam wore. He went to the jewelry store with only a comparison based on the size of his cock to which the young woman there was horrified to hear. Dean didn’t see what the big deal was. He just told her one finger was good, but three felt more like Sam.
--
“She [Mary] thinks your tattoo is hardcore.”
“Really?” John asked. “She said that?”
“Oh yeah. She said it makes you look dangerous.”
“Well.” John smiled. “I guess.”
“Your mother however says she made herself quite clear about how she feels regarding tattoos and you’re grounded when you get to heaven.”
“Oh man.”
“Merry Christmas.”
--
“I understand your frustration, but I’m pretty sure he always says please and thank you.”
“Not even, when he left this morning do you know what he told me?”
“Yes.”
“He said “Hey bitch, if this house isn’t clean by the time I get back I’m making you suck my cock and then beating you. If anyone asks you walked into a door.” And then he punched me in the face and broke my nose.”
“Oh, so we’re not even pretending to exist in reality anymore?” Lloyd asked. “Did I tell you about the hot ghost orgy I had last week? It was total asses and elbows. I didn’t know what was going in me or what I was in and I didn’t care.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, Casper and I gang banged Obi-Wan.”
--
Of course Dean had never come out himself, so he didn’t really know what to say or if he should sugarcoat it. Shelia and Terry knew they were gay because they lived together and they had talked to Rose about it at length, but Bobby had known them for a lot longer and he was well aware they were brothers. Dean wasn’t really sure how to say it, so as usual he just blurted it out.
“So, I like when Sam does me in the ass.”
“Dean!”
“I’m also pretty fond of doing him in the ass, but that doesn’t happen very often.” Dean said. “We’re in love and as our friend we wanted to let you know.”
“Okay.” Bobby said as he picked up a cookie. “Are you going to tell me that the sky is blue next?”
--
“Okay! Why does everyone thing I’m like ultra gay?” Sam asked. “Lloyd, glasses go on coasters, you know that.”
“Sorry Sam.”
“It’s just…” Sam said as he took off his apron. “I’m not really, really gay. I had a girlfriend.”
“Okay.” John nodded. “Sorry.”
“I have crème brulee for dessert.”
--
"I have a special big boy meal to cook for your special day."
"Ooooh!" Dean squealed. "And you'll make me special baked wonis with cheese!"
"Yes."
"Tatos!"
"Of course."
"Four pies each more delicious than the last!"
"Yes, Dean." Sam sighed. "I promise."
"And then a pie filled with another pie!"
"I uh…I haven't quite figured that out yet, but I'll do my best."
--
When he sauntered into the kitchen in his robe he had the biggest shit eating grin on his face which Sam knew was actually a cocksucking grin, but it was a very subtle difference.
--
"Smells great, Sammy."
"Thanks, dad. Happy Thanksgiving."
"You too." John said. "Yeah, you too…So last night I'm nailing Lloyd in the bathroom and…"
"Oh, Jesus…"
"His face is like pressed into the tile, and I'm biting him on his neck because he's a little whore."
"Right."
"And I notice the tile work in the bathroom is really nice. Dean did a great job."
"Oh…yeah, he did. He's very talented. I picked that out, we were going to go with a neutral but…"
"He shot his load all over it. I made him lick it clean." John said with a wink. "He's such a whore. Yeah, I came pretty damn hard inside him."
"I gave Dean head last night."
"Oh, Sam." John whispered. "I don't need to know about that."
"But you…"
"It's Thanksgiving for Christ's sake. Show some respect to Christopher Columbus."
"Right." Sam sighed. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Sam. Did you even make breakfast?"
"Yes, it was warm an hour ago."
--
A spring wedding in the backyard sounded just perfect to Dean. He, of course, would be the ring bearer and Sam would be the flower Sammy. Bobby would be the best man who thought the union was a sin against God and then they could all eat some delicious cake and get shitfaced.
--Samcakes 'Verse (link goes to the master post I made for my own convenience, links from there go to the relevant posts at bitchandjerk's LJ), bitchandjerk, (Sam/Dean, John/OMC)