Fic: New Heights, SPN, Dean/Castiel
Jan. 15th, 2009 11:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonlettuceTitle: New Heights
Author: Claire
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Summary: All Sam wanted was dinner...
Notes: For a porny Dean/Castiel prompt, this is freakily unporny and completely full of Sam. Originally written for the following prompt in the SPN Anonymous Kink Meme:
Dean/Castiel, sex in improbable places that they can only reach because Castiel can fly. On top of the Sphinx, a mesa in Utah, the St. Louis arch, etc.
~
Sam groaned as he dropped down onto the bed, his entire body aching. He hated zombies; they were a bitch to kill and they stank, especially when they were dropping body parts and other fetid crap all over the place. And the exploding-- he wouldn't mind so much if it wasn't for the exploding every time you shot one.
Glancing over to the pile of clothes in the corner of the motel room, he grimaced. He'd liked that shirt and now he'd have to burn it because there was no way he was getting that amount of zombie guts out of it, no matter what any of the washing powder ads might claim.
He just hoped Dean had had better luck with his job. I'll flip you for the demon kittens, Dean had said, sauntering out of the room with a grin when he'd won the toss. Bastard. Sam would take demon kittens over zombies any time - cat hair was a hell of a lot easier to clean off clothes than zombie gunk.
Reaching out to the cabinet next to the bed, Sam fumbled for the bag on there, taking four attempts before he could actually make his fingers grip it tight enough to lift. Sam rested the bag on his stomach to open it, his nose assaulted by the smell of cold burger with too much relish as he absently grabbed the remote to the TV and flicked it on, ambient light and noise filtering into the room. His stomach rebelled slightly, unable to decide if it was empty enough for Sam to eat the congealed mass of grease the food had become.
Deciding against risking it, Sam crumpled the top of the bag closed and dumped it onto the floor. After he'd left the cemetery, he'd had a call from Dean telling him the kittens were all exorcised and now trying to kill fake mice instead of real children. If he rang him now, he might be able to catch Dean still in town and tell him to bring food back.
Hitting the speed dial on his phone, Sam frowned at the mechanical voice that drifted into his ear.
"This phone is outside of communication range. Please try again later."
He was just about to try again when his gaze fell on the TV. Scrabbling for the remote that had fallen off the bed, Sam turned the volume up.
"--images live from St.Louis show two people apparently engaging in illicit activity on top of the Gateway Arch of the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial. It's unsure how they got to the top of the arch, but what's obvious is how much fun they're having now they're up there."
"Son of a bitch," Sam muttered, recognising both of the blurry figures being filmed. "It's only a bunch of demon kittens, Sam. I'll be finished in no time, Sam. I absolutely won't piss off to Missouri to have sex with my angel boyfriend on top of a national monument, Sam--"
Flicking off the TV (he'd had enough of walking in on Dean and Castiel engaging in things he'd really rather not see his brother and an angel engaging in, so he had no desire to watch them on the national news, as well), Sam reached over the edge of bed for the bag he'd dropped there. Looked like it was cold burger for dinner, after all.
Author: Claire
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: PG
Summary: All Sam wanted was dinner...
Notes: For a porny Dean/Castiel prompt, this is freakily unporny and completely full of Sam. Originally written for the following prompt in the SPN Anonymous Kink Meme:
Dean/Castiel, sex in improbable places that they can only reach because Castiel can fly. On top of the Sphinx, a mesa in Utah, the St. Louis arch, etc.
~
Sam groaned as he dropped down onto the bed, his entire body aching. He hated zombies; they were a bitch to kill and they stank, especially when they were dropping body parts and other fetid crap all over the place. And the exploding-- he wouldn't mind so much if it wasn't for the exploding every time you shot one.
Glancing over to the pile of clothes in the corner of the motel room, he grimaced. He'd liked that shirt and now he'd have to burn it because there was no way he was getting that amount of zombie guts out of it, no matter what any of the washing powder ads might claim.
He just hoped Dean had had better luck with his job. I'll flip you for the demon kittens, Dean had said, sauntering out of the room with a grin when he'd won the toss. Bastard. Sam would take demon kittens over zombies any time - cat hair was a hell of a lot easier to clean off clothes than zombie gunk.
Reaching out to the cabinet next to the bed, Sam fumbled for the bag on there, taking four attempts before he could actually make his fingers grip it tight enough to lift. Sam rested the bag on his stomach to open it, his nose assaulted by the smell of cold burger with too much relish as he absently grabbed the remote to the TV and flicked it on, ambient light and noise filtering into the room. His stomach rebelled slightly, unable to decide if it was empty enough for Sam to eat the congealed mass of grease the food had become.
Deciding against risking it, Sam crumpled the top of the bag closed and dumped it onto the floor. After he'd left the cemetery, he'd had a call from Dean telling him the kittens were all exorcised and now trying to kill fake mice instead of real children. If he rang him now, he might be able to catch Dean still in town and tell him to bring food back.
Hitting the speed dial on his phone, Sam frowned at the mechanical voice that drifted into his ear.
"This phone is outside of communication range. Please try again later."
He was just about to try again when his gaze fell on the TV. Scrabbling for the remote that had fallen off the bed, Sam turned the volume up.
"--images live from St.Louis show two people apparently engaging in illicit activity on top of the Gateway Arch of the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial. It's unsure how they got to the top of the arch, but what's obvious is how much fun they're having now they're up there."
"Son of a bitch," Sam muttered, recognising both of the blurry figures being filmed. "It's only a bunch of demon kittens, Sam. I'll be finished in no time, Sam. I absolutely won't piss off to Missouri to have sex with my angel boyfriend on top of a national monument, Sam--"
Flicking off the TV (he'd had enough of walking in on Dean and Castiel engaging in things he'd really rather not see his brother and an angel engaging in, so he had no desire to watch them on the national news, as well), Sam reached over the edge of bed for the bag he'd dropped there. Looked like it was cold burger for dinner, after all.
