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phantismaFandom: Supernatural (Broken!Verse)
Title: The Way We Were
Paring: Sam/Dean
Rating: R-NC-17
Word Count: 1310
Summary: Post-Destinations, the boys are on the road to a hunt and a little stop at an all night diner brings back some memories. Written as my half of the challenge with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shotofjack to scmoop. I worked on it all day. Getting the Broken boys to schmoop is not an easy task!
A/Ns & Warnings: This is schmoop with just a twist of angst. And a blow job in the snow tossed in for good measure.
“Where are we?” Dean asked, sitting up and looking around him before stretching.
“A few hours from Casper.” Sam replied, sipping on his coffee.
Dean nodded and squinted at his watch in the dark. “It’s almost 2.” Sam said.
“Hungry.”
“There’s still some chips.” Sam poked his thumb in the direction of the back seat.
Dean made a face. “No thank you. I want food.”
Sam looked at him funny. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
“Yeah, hilarious. I mean it. I’m hungry.”
Sam chuckled and pointed at a sign as they passed. “All night diner up ahead.”
Dean was out of the car and half way to the diner before Sam had even turned it off. He watched Dean pull the door open, his eyes flicking over the diner, the trucks in the parking lot, the snow on the ground around them. It had only just stopped. It had a familiar air to it. He couldn’t place it, even as he pocketed the keys and headed inside to join his brother.
It wasn’t until he was seated in the booth across from Dean, watching him drum his fingers against the menu and an aging waitress approached that it came to him though.
“What can I get you boys to drink?”
Sam looked up, squinting at her. “Cocoa,” he breathed and Dean stopped drumming to look at him. Sam cleared his throat and shook his head. “Sorry. Uh, coke is fine.”
“Me too.” Dean said, but he didn’t go back to his menu when she walked away. “Cocoa?”
“Forget it.” Sam’s eyes tracked the waitress. Her red hair had gone to a silvery white and she was a little thicker around the hips, but her blue eyes sparkled the same way, and her voice hadn’t changed.
It had been years. Nothing much had changed. Dean snapped his fingers, his face suddenly serious. “Hey, focus.”
Sam blinked and looked at him, suddenly realizing why he was concerned. “No, Dean. I’m fine. Don’t you remember this place?” Sam cringed. Memory wasn’t a favorite topic these days. “We’ve been here before.”
Dean looked up and around them as if seeing it for the first time. He nodded slowly. “You were…what 8?”
Sam smiled as the waitress came back with their sodas. “You boys decided?”
“We’ll have the special.” Dean said, easing back against the bench with a smile. “We liked the special.”
“You boys been here before?”
“Long time ago, Ma’am.” Sam said.
“Well, always nice to see folks again.”
She walked away, yelling their order back to the cook. Sam had been 8, Dean had just turned 13. They had been hunting a hitchhiker ghost, and their father had left them at the little motel down the road. “She gave us cocoa.” Dean said, his eyes moving to Sam’s looking for confirmation.
“You locked us out of the motel room.” Sam said, laughing. “In January in Wyoming.”
“You were the one who wanted to play in the snow. Without gloves.” Dean countered.
“And who was it that used my gloves to clean the grill so he could have hot dogs for his birthday?”
“That grill was disgusting!” Dean smiled and sipped at his coke.
By the time they’d realized Dean had left the motel room key locked inside, it was already past ten at night, they were drenched and freezing. The manager of the motel didn’t know John had kids, would have charged him extra for the room if he had, so they couldn’t go ask for a new one.
They’d wandered around trying to stay warm, and ended up outside the diner. The waitress spotted them huddled in the entryway and brought them inside. Dean told her some story about their father’s car breaking down and he’d sent them to keep warm.
She’d given them cocoa and once Dean had worked his charm, she’d given them each the evening’s special, meatloaf and fries. By the time they finished eating they were dry and warm and ready for anything, except the wrath of John Winchester when they got back to the room.
“Dad whooped my ass that night.” Dean said, staring at the plate the waitress set on the table. It didn’t look all that much different than it had that night long ago. Thick slices of meatloaf smothered in ketchup and greasy French fries.
“Yeah, he made us come back and pay for the food the next day.” Sam said. “But we had fun, didn’t we?” He munched on his fries. “Remember, you gave me a pair of your sock to use as mittens.”
Dean chuckled. “You looked like a dork in that sweater of Dad’s. And my socks on your hands.”
“You put a dick on my snowman.”
“You’re the one who said he was naked. I was just helping.”
“Helping? Is that what you call dumping snow down my pants?”
Dean laughed, dropping his French fry. “You jumped all over the place whining ‘Deeaan’.”
Sam tried to be indignant but the memory was a warm one of a time before their world spiraled out of control. “I got you back though. That snowball hit you square in the face.”
“I let you hit me.” Dean countered, turning back to his food.
“Yeah, right.”
“Eat up Sammy.” Dean turned his attention to his food, shoveling it in. “Got a hunt to get to.”
As Dean got up to pay the bill, Sam shoved the last of his fries in his mouth and muttered, “Gotta pee,” around them. He headed down to the bathroom thinking that it had been a long, long time since they’d been those kids. Dean was already gone when he came out, smiling with a nod to the waitress. He wasn’t even fully out the door when the snowball hit him in the chest.
Dean was laughing beside the Impala, slapping his hand against the hood. “Gotcha Sammy!”
“What are you, twelve?” Sam said, feigning indignation even as he swept a handful of snow off the newspaper vending machine, crunching it in his bare hands and throwing it hard at Dean’s head.
He ducked away and ran, laughing and calling after him, “You throw like a girl!”
Sam laughed and plowed after him, slipping a little in his sneakers as he hit an icy patch. Another splatter of snow hit him, covering his face. He kept moving, finally catching Dean and launching himself at him, tumbling them down into the snowy ditch and shoving as much snow as he could manage down his brother’s pants.
Dean finally rolled away, panting and laughing and holding up his hands. “Truce.”
“No way, you started it.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
“No, seriously. I think my dick’s gonna freeze off.” Dean was unzipping his pants, pulling snow out of his jeans while Sam laughed.
“Talk about blue balls.”
“Yeah? Maybe I should make you warm them up.”
Sam crawled toward him. They were far enough down that no one would see them. “Maybe I will.”
Before Dean could protest, Sam dropped down, his mouth wrapping around Dean’s cold cock and bringing it to life. It didn’t take long to get Dean hard, despite the cold and in moments Dean was fisting his hand in Sam’s hair. “Fuck, Sammy.”
He pulled up and off. “Not in the snow Dean. Too cold.” He grinned, then went back to sucking until Dean was bucking upward and coming.
Dean shook his head, trying to put his jeans back in order. “My ass is cold.”
“I am not licking your ass.”
“It was worth a try.”
“Try picking your ass up off the ground.”
“My jeans are wet.”
“You’re whining.”
“Saaammmyyy.” Dean whined, even as Sam pulled him to his feet. Sam reached out to clock him, then wrapped his arm around his shoulder instead.
“Come on. Let’s get you some dry pants.”
Title: The Way We Were
Paring: Sam/Dean
Rating: R-NC-17
Word Count: 1310
Summary: Post-Destinations, the boys are on the road to a hunt and a little stop at an all night diner brings back some memories. Written as my half of the challenge with
shotofjack to scmoop. I worked on it all day. Getting the Broken boys to schmoop is not an easy task!A/Ns & Warnings: This is schmoop with just a twist of angst. And a blow job in the snow tossed in for good measure.
“Where are we?” Dean asked, sitting up and looking around him before stretching.
“A few hours from Casper.” Sam replied, sipping on his coffee.
Dean nodded and squinted at his watch in the dark. “It’s almost 2.” Sam said.
“Hungry.”
“There’s still some chips.” Sam poked his thumb in the direction of the back seat.
Dean made a face. “No thank you. I want food.”
Sam looked at him funny. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
“Yeah, hilarious. I mean it. I’m hungry.”
Sam chuckled and pointed at a sign as they passed. “All night diner up ahead.”
Dean was out of the car and half way to the diner before Sam had even turned it off. He watched Dean pull the door open, his eyes flicking over the diner, the trucks in the parking lot, the snow on the ground around them. It had only just stopped. It had a familiar air to it. He couldn’t place it, even as he pocketed the keys and headed inside to join his brother.
It wasn’t until he was seated in the booth across from Dean, watching him drum his fingers against the menu and an aging waitress approached that it came to him though.
“What can I get you boys to drink?”
Sam looked up, squinting at her. “Cocoa,” he breathed and Dean stopped drumming to look at him. Sam cleared his throat and shook his head. “Sorry. Uh, coke is fine.”
“Me too.” Dean said, but he didn’t go back to his menu when she walked away. “Cocoa?”
“Forget it.” Sam’s eyes tracked the waitress. Her red hair had gone to a silvery white and she was a little thicker around the hips, but her blue eyes sparkled the same way, and her voice hadn’t changed.
It had been years. Nothing much had changed. Dean snapped his fingers, his face suddenly serious. “Hey, focus.”
Sam blinked and looked at him, suddenly realizing why he was concerned. “No, Dean. I’m fine. Don’t you remember this place?” Sam cringed. Memory wasn’t a favorite topic these days. “We’ve been here before.”
Dean looked up and around them as if seeing it for the first time. He nodded slowly. “You were…what 8?”
Sam smiled as the waitress came back with their sodas. “You boys decided?”
“We’ll have the special.” Dean said, easing back against the bench with a smile. “We liked the special.”
“You boys been here before?”
“Long time ago, Ma’am.” Sam said.
“Well, always nice to see folks again.”
She walked away, yelling their order back to the cook. Sam had been 8, Dean had just turned 13. They had been hunting a hitchhiker ghost, and their father had left them at the little motel down the road. “She gave us cocoa.” Dean said, his eyes moving to Sam’s looking for confirmation.
“You locked us out of the motel room.” Sam said, laughing. “In January in Wyoming.”
“You were the one who wanted to play in the snow. Without gloves.” Dean countered.
“And who was it that used my gloves to clean the grill so he could have hot dogs for his birthday?”
“That grill was disgusting!” Dean smiled and sipped at his coke.
By the time they’d realized Dean had left the motel room key locked inside, it was already past ten at night, they were drenched and freezing. The manager of the motel didn’t know John had kids, would have charged him extra for the room if he had, so they couldn’t go ask for a new one.
They’d wandered around trying to stay warm, and ended up outside the diner. The waitress spotted them huddled in the entryway and brought them inside. Dean told her some story about their father’s car breaking down and he’d sent them to keep warm.
She’d given them cocoa and once Dean had worked his charm, she’d given them each the evening’s special, meatloaf and fries. By the time they finished eating they were dry and warm and ready for anything, except the wrath of John Winchester when they got back to the room.
“Dad whooped my ass that night.” Dean said, staring at the plate the waitress set on the table. It didn’t look all that much different than it had that night long ago. Thick slices of meatloaf smothered in ketchup and greasy French fries.
“Yeah, he made us come back and pay for the food the next day.” Sam said. “But we had fun, didn’t we?” He munched on his fries. “Remember, you gave me a pair of your sock to use as mittens.”
Dean chuckled. “You looked like a dork in that sweater of Dad’s. And my socks on your hands.”
“You put a dick on my snowman.”
“You’re the one who said he was naked. I was just helping.”
“Helping? Is that what you call dumping snow down my pants?”
Dean laughed, dropping his French fry. “You jumped all over the place whining ‘Deeaan’.”
Sam tried to be indignant but the memory was a warm one of a time before their world spiraled out of control. “I got you back though. That snowball hit you square in the face.”
“I let you hit me.” Dean countered, turning back to his food.
“Yeah, right.”
“Eat up Sammy.” Dean turned his attention to his food, shoveling it in. “Got a hunt to get to.”
As Dean got up to pay the bill, Sam shoved the last of his fries in his mouth and muttered, “Gotta pee,” around them. He headed down to the bathroom thinking that it had been a long, long time since they’d been those kids. Dean was already gone when he came out, smiling with a nod to the waitress. He wasn’t even fully out the door when the snowball hit him in the chest.
Dean was laughing beside the Impala, slapping his hand against the hood. “Gotcha Sammy!”
“What are you, twelve?” Sam said, feigning indignation even as he swept a handful of snow off the newspaper vending machine, crunching it in his bare hands and throwing it hard at Dean’s head.
He ducked away and ran, laughing and calling after him, “You throw like a girl!”
Sam laughed and plowed after him, slipping a little in his sneakers as he hit an icy patch. Another splatter of snow hit him, covering his face. He kept moving, finally catching Dean and launching himself at him, tumbling them down into the snowy ditch and shoving as much snow as he could manage down his brother’s pants.
Dean finally rolled away, panting and laughing and holding up his hands. “Truce.”
“No way, you started it.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
“No, seriously. I think my dick’s gonna freeze off.” Dean was unzipping his pants, pulling snow out of his jeans while Sam laughed.
“Talk about blue balls.”
“Yeah? Maybe I should make you warm them up.”
Sam crawled toward him. They were far enough down that no one would see them. “Maybe I will.”
Before Dean could protest, Sam dropped down, his mouth wrapping around Dean’s cold cock and bringing it to life. It didn’t take long to get Dean hard, despite the cold and in moments Dean was fisting his hand in Sam’s hair. “Fuck, Sammy.”
He pulled up and off. “Not in the snow Dean. Too cold.” He grinned, then went back to sucking until Dean was bucking upward and coming.
Dean shook his head, trying to put his jeans back in order. “My ass is cold.”
“I am not licking your ass.”
“It was worth a try.”
“Try picking your ass up off the ground.”
“My jeans are wet.”
“You’re whining.”
“Saaammmyyy.” Dean whined, even as Sam pulled him to his feet. Sam reached out to clock him, then wrapped his arm around his shoulder instead.
“Come on. Let’s get you some dry pants.”
