The time, it is stamped.
May. 5th, 2011 11:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
britomart_isGive 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 written.
Don't feel obligated to request something just to feed my ego, it doesn't need the help (the analogy that just popped into my head is that my ego is like one of those squirrels in parks who are used to handouts of human food so they get really aggressive and beat you up and steal your lunch money/your lunch). But I'm working on multiple larger projects and would love to have some prompts I can whip out when I need a (productive) break, so if you want to take advantage of my procrastination, fire away!
For reference, stuff I've written.
Don't feel obligated to request something just to feed my ego, it doesn't need the help (the analogy that just popped into my head is that my ego is like one of those squirrels in parks who are used to handouts of human food so they get really aggressive and beat you up and steal your lunch money/your lunch). But I'm working on multiple larger projects and would love to have some prompts I can whip out when I need a (productive) break, so if you want to take advantage of my procrastination, fire away!
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no subject
Date: 2011-05-05 06:17 pm (UTC)pairing: sam motherfucking winchester/really really childish
timestamp: sometime in the future, Dean finds out some of his joke accusations are true.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-05 06:28 pm (UTC)1/2
Date: 2011-05-08 07:12 am (UTC)In Dean's defense, he hadn't known at the time that the man eating syrup-drenched pancakes five feet away was a demi-god with a nasty sense of humor.
It was hard enough getting Sammy to split up to follow different leads. He's been clingy like a, like a, a leech, no, something Dean likes more than a leech, Sam's been clingy like a staticky dryer sheet - ever since Broward County. Having Sam all up in his personal space is the sweetest kind of torture for Dean, so he's been desperate to get some breathing room before he does something stupid like nibble on Sam's ear or rest a hand on the small of his back or fuck him raw and then get down on one knee and propose and maybe suck Sam's cock while he's down there. Yeah, splitting up was definitely the right call.
Dean doesn't want to push his luck and provoke a nervous breakdown, though, so he hurries back to Sam afterward. The skeezebag mayor's ex-wife didn't give Dean any leads on why the dude's now a peeping tom from beyond the grave, scaring the shit out of women all over town. Hopefully Sam's had more luck with the other women in the late mayor's life -- the ladies of Sizzle. (Which Dean doesn't think is much of a name for a strip club, it just makes him crave a steak.)
The first thing Dean sees backstage is a glimpse of Sam's hair and one huge booted foot visible through the wall of sequins and feathers and bare skin. All right, Sammy. He seems to have gotten the girls on his good side. Dean steps closer and shoulders his way in through the crowd of attentive women. Sam is sprawled in a chair in front of the lighted mirrors. One woman is bent over his right hand, carefully painting his nails a very light pink. His cheekbones are defined, cheeks more flushed than usual. There's a smear of bright red over Sam's mouth, like someone tried to put lipstick on him and he turned his head away. Sam's eyes are shut, and another woman - practically sitting in his lap - is putting the finishing touches on a barely-there smudge of black lining Sam's eyes. "That's some serious harassment. So how many of you did he follow home?" Sam asks. Six girls out of the group raise their hands. Sam carefully opens his eyes, blinking at his own image in the mirror, then counting the hands. Then he sees -- "DEAN." Sam's messy red mouth opens once silently, then shuts. "Um."
Dean says something intelligible, it might have sounded like it was just a distressed noise but that's cause of, you know. The music. The music out on the stage.
"Oh darn, we're out of makeup remover," says a woman in towering high heels.
Turns out Sam got all the information they needed by being an obliging plaything for as long as he spoke to them. Sam scrubs at his mouth with a hand as they walk out, and it just results in the trace of lipstick smearing and pinking up his face even worse. Now Sam just looks like he's been thoroughly debauched.
Dean hates his life almost as thoroughly as his life seems to hate him. He clenches the car keys in his hand till they're on the verge of breaking skin and definitely does *not* watch as Sam checks himself out in the visor mirror once they're back in the car.
Dean's coming out of Wal-Mart with a four-pack of t-shirts, a bag of rock salt, and a jug of Sunny D when he sees Sam coming out of Office Depot. "Hey, what'd you need to get at an office sup--"
"Paperclips," Sam says quickly. "We needed paperclips."
Dean squints at him and takes a chug of juice. "Okay." Sam is weird.
Their battered and annotated (for accuracy and opinion) Bible caught on fire a couple hunts ago, so when he needs to prove a point about demons Dean just has a moment of gratitude for the Gideons and reaches for the nightstand. He pauses with the drawer open and blinks. "Sam?"
Sam grunts questioningly.
"Why's there a ruler in the nightstand?"
Sam's eyebrows rise toward his hairline. "Beats me. People leave the weirdest things behind in motel rooms."
"Right," Dean says. He shakes his head and grabs the Bible. He needs to get more sleep, strange things are happening in Dean's brain.
2/2
Date: 2011-05-08 07:13 am (UTC)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.
He calms down and straightens up, wheezing a little. Sam's sitting ramrod straight on the bed, covers bunched on his lap. Dean suspects that the ruler that was in Sam's hand a minute ago is now hidden under the blanket.
Dean, braced in the bathroom doorway, stares at Sam.
Sam stares at Dean. The bright red flush in his cheeks continues in a V down his bare chest, all that skin pinked up and that's, that's new information that Dean now has in his head and can't get rid of.
That's not where Dean's mind needs to be. He returns to the subject at hand, and the tickle in his brain that he now recognizes as suspicion. "Sam, you don't by any chance ... do this every morning when you wake up?"
The violent blush is fading and now Sam just looks miserable and stressed out. "I think something's wrong," he says, and he looks at Dean with those big wet eyes that mean big brother fix it please. Dean is so utterly, utterly fucked.
"What's wrong?" he asks with dread.
Sam bites his lip. "It's," he whispers. He casts a fearful look down at his lap. "I think it's getting bigger."
After that a series of events occur which are completely and totally out of Dean's control and end in him choking on Sam's dick while Sam rubs his thumbs behind Dean's ears and thunks his own head against the wall every time he groans.
For the rest of the evening Dean's pretty preoccupied, first with Sam's hand down his pants and then with so many hours of lying side by side and making out that it's kind of embarrassing, shameful, just kisses and gropes and soft noises and Dean's pretty sure Sam was petting him at some point. So of course, Dean doesn't remember that there's more to come.
Dean has these ideas about being chivalrous and not fucking Sam until like, the third date, but then they wake up the next morning in a nest of sheets and Sam blinks his eyes open sleepily and smiles slowly at Dean like seeing Dean first thing in the morning is all he's ever wanted and --
Dean's feeling the pressure building low and hot and he's starting to lose his rhythm. Sam started off riding him like a pony, that gorgeous long torso stretched up above Dean, but Dean slowly fucked the posture out of him till Sam's slumped forward, limp as a noodle and groaning into Dean's neck, pressing occasional kisses into the skin, little huh-huh-huhs fucked out of him with every thrust. So it takes Dean a moment to process the new set of sounds he's hearing. It sounds like --
He gets his hand around Sam's chin, forces his face up. Sam's not only sniffling heavily, his eyes are fully welled up. Dean's heart drops down to somewhere on the first floor of the motel. "Fuck, Sammy--"
Sam's saying, "No, no, I don't even know why I'm doing this," with a look of genuine confusion, even while he's still grinding his lower body down against Dean's like he just wants to make sure he has every possible bit of Dean inside him that he can.
"Aw, fuck," Dean says, and it's half realization and half because Sam, determined not to be derailed by his sudden fit of tears, has a hand between his legs, feeling where Dean enters him with a look of curiosity and awe, even as a tear breaks loose and runs down his cheek.
Sam Winchester wears makeup. Sam Winchester cries his way through sex. Sam Winchester keeps a ruler by the bed and every morning when he wakes up --"
The next time Dean sees the Trickster and the Trickster shoots him a sly wink, Dean doesn't know whether to stab him in the heart or buy him a beer.
THE END.
Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-05-08 09:16 am (UTC)THANK YOU. I give you permission to ask me for things, provided you use the astronaut icon. ♥
Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-05-08 09:33 am (UTC)Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-05-08 03:45 pm (UTC)Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-05-10 05:38 pm (UTC)Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-05-18 03:23 am (UTC)Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-05-18 05:46 pm (UTC)Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-05-19 08:12 am (UTC)Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-05-19 12:06 am (UTC)Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-05-19 08:12 am (UTC)Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-05-19 12:23 am (UTC)Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-05-19 08:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-19 07:49 pm (UTC)Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-05-21 07:12 am (UTC)The End.
Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-06-06 02:59 pm (UTC)Thank you for this humungous smile! ♥
Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-12-04 01:24 am (UTC)I LOVE THIS
Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-12-04 04:19 am (UTC)That's hilarious and I love the kind of embarrassing lengthy making out!
Re: 2/2
Date: 2011-12-04 07:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-05-08 07:16 am (UTC)Author's note 2: Fuck canon. Dean totally remembers saying that, despite having a golden retriever gnawing on his jugular fifteen minutes later.