Fic: Who Says Romance Is Dead?
Jan. 16th, 2021 07:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayTitle: Who Says Romance Is Dead?
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: Teen/PG-13
Genre: Slash, fluff
Word Count: 1300
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Summary: Sam just wants a bit of romance in his life. Is that so unreasonable?
Warnings/tags: sibling incest, swearing, romance
Prompt: Written for the Dean and Sam Bingo, the Romantic Evening square.
A/N: The first section of this was written MONTHS before I finished it, and when I finally came back to it I found it had abruptly shifted POVs; presumably, so Dean could surprise Sam. It's not smooth but it's what the story demanded, so I went with it.
Read on AO3
***
“Fuck, Sam, are you kidding me?” Dean groaned. “What do you want from me, huh? Flowers? Whitman’s sampler? Do you wanna wear my school ring on a chain around your neck, too?”
Sam had his prissiest bitchface on, arms folded across his chest as he glared at Dean. “All I said was maybe sometimes a little romance would be nice.”
Dean rubbed the back of his neck, feeling hot and uncomfortable and hiding it behind the glare he leveled right back at his brother. “Okay, fine,” he snapped. “But seriously dude, what do you have in mind? You can’t just spring this shit on me and expect me to have something planned out.”
He forced his face to relax and stared back at Sam, hoping his trepidation wouldn’t show. They’d been sleeping together for years and the guilt didn’t eat him up like it used to. Heck, he even held Sam’s hand in public sometimes, if they weren’t in a town where he was likely to have to throw down with someone who couldn’t handle guys holding hands. (Actually, a couple times he’d done in order to annoy somebody he wanted to fight anyway, but that was different.) Still, sometimes thinking of their relationship as something romantic made him feel a little…damn it, stupid Crowley…squirrely. Sweaty sex in the Impala pulled over on a dusty highway? Fuck yeah. Making googly eyes at each other over pasta and wine in some fancy restaurant? Ugh. Dean felt itchy just thinking about it.
Stupid Sam’s stupid face softened, his eyes going all warm and his mouth pliant, which meant either he was reading Dean too well or he was about to try and wheedle some romance out of him, which would definitely not work, except Dean knew it 100% would work.
“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam said quietly. “We don’t have to do anything out of the usual.” He gave Dean a small smile, clapped him on the shoulder, and walked into the Men of Letters’ library, leaving Dean standing there in the map room with his beer and a frozen expression on his face. Fuck. Sam could definitely tell he was freaked, and he wasn’t pushing. Which was nice, but…did Sam actually not care that much, or was some part of him still afraid Dean would want to stop being together if Sam said what he really wanted?
Dean sighed, polished off the last of his beer, and went to the kitchen for another. This was for sure a two-beer problem. Maybe three.
***
Two days later, Sam was sitting in the bunker’s library, reading a book. Dean snapped his fingers inches from Sam’s face, and Sam jumped, startled. He’d been so engrossed that he hadn’t even heard Dean approach.
“Come on,” Dean said. “Dinnertime.”
Sam blinked at him. “Dinner? It’s only 5 pm.”
“We have to drive for a bit,” Dean replied. “Come on. Ass in gear.”
Mystified, Sam followed his brother out of the bunker.
They’d been on the road for a few minutes before things stared to fall into place.
“Is this about what I said the other day?” Sam asked, keeping his tone neutral.
“Maybe,” Dean said, not looking at Sam. His hands tightened on the Impala’s wheel.
Sam felt a flash of guilt. He hadn’t thought his request would actually stress Dean out. He’d thought Dean would agree or laugh and say no, which is why he’d backed off when Dean seemed freaked out by it. Things were much easier between them than they used to be, and Sam sometimes didn’t realize when he needed to be careful.
“Dean, it’s really okay,” he said. “It was more of an idea.”
Dean did look at him then, flashing a smile that looked a little strained around the edges but not actually faked.
“No way you’re backing out now,” he said. “Not after all the trouble I went to.” He reached out and turned on the radio, then glanced at Sam and gestured towards it. “Go ahead. Put on whatever you want.”
Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, but Dean was studiously not looking at him again. Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Sam played with the dial until he found a song he liked.
***
About an hour later, Dean pulled into a rest stop and parked. “We’re here,” he announced, getting out of the car.
Sam followed suit, frowning. “Dean, I know you’re not exactly Romance Guy, but highway rest stops aren’t actually that romantic.”
“Shut up,” Dean muttered as he grabbed the cooler from the backseat. “Go inside and use the bathroom or something, would you? Gimme a few minutes to get organized.”
Bemused, Sam went into the rest stop and relieved himself in the men’s room. He wasn’t sure whether to be excited or slightly afraid to see what Dean had planned, but his heart was beating a little faster. He looked at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands and saw that his cheeks were flushed. He was excited, Sam decided. Whatever Dean had put together, it was nice that he was trying.
Sam frowned as he exited the building. Dean was no longer in view.
“Sammy! Over here,” Dean called. His voice came from behind Sam.
Sam turned to see Dean sitting at one of the picnic tables set back and to the side of the building. Sam walked slowly towards his brother, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Like the rest stop, the table was on top of a hill. Spread out behind it was a meadow full of flowers. The sun was just starting to go down and it all made for a stunning view.
But far more surprising was the picnic table. When he reached it, Sam simply stood and stared silently down at it for a long moment. It was spread with a white tablecloth and set with two tall, lit taper candles in pewter candlesticks. There were wine glasses and actual dishes and silverware. Sam was pretty sure all of it except the tapers themselves came from the Men of Letters’ stores.
Dean’s eyes were trained on Sam’s face, his expression eager and slightly anxious. “Well?” he demanded finally. “What do you think?”
Sam met Dean’s gaze and broke out into a grin. “I love it,” he said. “It’s beautiful.”
Dean let out a breath and grinned back, then immediately tried to quash it. “I knew you’d like this, you dork,” he muttered. The cooler was at his feet and he opened it, pulling out a bottle of white wine. He brandished it at Sam as Sam sat down opposite him. “I’m never gonna forgive you for making me drink this.”
Sam laughed and surveyed the food. After a moment, he realized what he was seeing.
“Dean,” he said. “Did you put together a charcuterie board?”
Dean finished opening the wine and made a pained expression as he filled their glasses. “Shut up,” he said. “I looked up picnic foods and it sounded easy. Plus there’s meat and cheese, so, something I might actually want to eat.” Sam got up from the table and Dean looked alarmed. “Where are you going?”
Sam joined Dean on the other bench. “Nowhere,” he said, and leaned in to kiss Dean gently.
“Sharing one side of the table like a couple of jerks,” Dean muttered, but his eyes were bright and a smile kept fighting its way onto his face.
Dean handed Sam a glass of wine and raised his own. “To, um – ” He grimaced. “I don’t know, Sammy. What am I supposed to say? ‘To us’ or some corny shit like that?”
Sam clinked his glass against Dean’s. “No,” he replied, smiling at his brother. “You don’t have to say anything at all.”
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: Teen/PG-13
Genre: Slash, fluff
Word Count: 1300
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Summary: Sam just wants a bit of romance in his life. Is that so unreasonable?
Warnings/tags: sibling incest, swearing, romance
Prompt: Written for the Dean and Sam Bingo, the Romantic Evening square.
A/N: The first section of this was written MONTHS before I finished it, and when I finally came back to it I found it had abruptly shifted POVs; presumably, so Dean could surprise Sam. It's not smooth but it's what the story demanded, so I went with it.
Read on AO3
***
“Fuck, Sam, are you kidding me?” Dean groaned. “What do you want from me, huh? Flowers? Whitman’s sampler? Do you wanna wear my school ring on a chain around your neck, too?”
Sam had his prissiest bitchface on, arms folded across his chest as he glared at Dean. “All I said was maybe sometimes a little romance would be nice.”
Dean rubbed the back of his neck, feeling hot and uncomfortable and hiding it behind the glare he leveled right back at his brother. “Okay, fine,” he snapped. “But seriously dude, what do you have in mind? You can’t just spring this shit on me and expect me to have something planned out.”
He forced his face to relax and stared back at Sam, hoping his trepidation wouldn’t show. They’d been sleeping together for years and the guilt didn’t eat him up like it used to. Heck, he even held Sam’s hand in public sometimes, if they weren’t in a town where he was likely to have to throw down with someone who couldn’t handle guys holding hands. (Actually, a couple times he’d done in order to annoy somebody he wanted to fight anyway, but that was different.) Still, sometimes thinking of their relationship as something romantic made him feel a little…damn it, stupid Crowley…squirrely. Sweaty sex in the Impala pulled over on a dusty highway? Fuck yeah. Making googly eyes at each other over pasta and wine in some fancy restaurant? Ugh. Dean felt itchy just thinking about it.
Stupid Sam’s stupid face softened, his eyes going all warm and his mouth pliant, which meant either he was reading Dean too well or he was about to try and wheedle some romance out of him, which would definitely not work, except Dean knew it 100% would work.
“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam said quietly. “We don’t have to do anything out of the usual.” He gave Dean a small smile, clapped him on the shoulder, and walked into the Men of Letters’ library, leaving Dean standing there in the map room with his beer and a frozen expression on his face. Fuck. Sam could definitely tell he was freaked, and he wasn’t pushing. Which was nice, but…did Sam actually not care that much, or was some part of him still afraid Dean would want to stop being together if Sam said what he really wanted?
Dean sighed, polished off the last of his beer, and went to the kitchen for another. This was for sure a two-beer problem. Maybe three.
***
Two days later, Sam was sitting in the bunker’s library, reading a book. Dean snapped his fingers inches from Sam’s face, and Sam jumped, startled. He’d been so engrossed that he hadn’t even heard Dean approach.
“Come on,” Dean said. “Dinnertime.”
Sam blinked at him. “Dinner? It’s only 5 pm.”
“We have to drive for a bit,” Dean replied. “Come on. Ass in gear.”
Mystified, Sam followed his brother out of the bunker.
They’d been on the road for a few minutes before things stared to fall into place.
“Is this about what I said the other day?” Sam asked, keeping his tone neutral.
“Maybe,” Dean said, not looking at Sam. His hands tightened on the Impala’s wheel.
Sam felt a flash of guilt. He hadn’t thought his request would actually stress Dean out. He’d thought Dean would agree or laugh and say no, which is why he’d backed off when Dean seemed freaked out by it. Things were much easier between them than they used to be, and Sam sometimes didn’t realize when he needed to be careful.
“Dean, it’s really okay,” he said. “It was more of an idea.”
Dean did look at him then, flashing a smile that looked a little strained around the edges but not actually faked.
“No way you’re backing out now,” he said. “Not after all the trouble I went to.” He reached out and turned on the radio, then glanced at Sam and gestured towards it. “Go ahead. Put on whatever you want.”
Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, but Dean was studiously not looking at him again. Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Sam played with the dial until he found a song he liked.
***
About an hour later, Dean pulled into a rest stop and parked. “We’re here,” he announced, getting out of the car.
Sam followed suit, frowning. “Dean, I know you’re not exactly Romance Guy, but highway rest stops aren’t actually that romantic.”
“Shut up,” Dean muttered as he grabbed the cooler from the backseat. “Go inside and use the bathroom or something, would you? Gimme a few minutes to get organized.”
Bemused, Sam went into the rest stop and relieved himself in the men’s room. He wasn’t sure whether to be excited or slightly afraid to see what Dean had planned, but his heart was beating a little faster. He looked at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands and saw that his cheeks were flushed. He was excited, Sam decided. Whatever Dean had put together, it was nice that he was trying.
Sam frowned as he exited the building. Dean was no longer in view.
“Sammy! Over here,” Dean called. His voice came from behind Sam.
Sam turned to see Dean sitting at one of the picnic tables set back and to the side of the building. Sam walked slowly towards his brother, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Like the rest stop, the table was on top of a hill. Spread out behind it was a meadow full of flowers. The sun was just starting to go down and it all made for a stunning view.
But far more surprising was the picnic table. When he reached it, Sam simply stood and stared silently down at it for a long moment. It was spread with a white tablecloth and set with two tall, lit taper candles in pewter candlesticks. There were wine glasses and actual dishes and silverware. Sam was pretty sure all of it except the tapers themselves came from the Men of Letters’ stores.
Dean’s eyes were trained on Sam’s face, his expression eager and slightly anxious. “Well?” he demanded finally. “What do you think?”
Sam met Dean’s gaze and broke out into a grin. “I love it,” he said. “It’s beautiful.”
Dean let out a breath and grinned back, then immediately tried to quash it. “I knew you’d like this, you dork,” he muttered. The cooler was at his feet and he opened it, pulling out a bottle of white wine. He brandished it at Sam as Sam sat down opposite him. “I’m never gonna forgive you for making me drink this.”
Sam laughed and surveyed the food. After a moment, he realized what he was seeing.
“Dean,” he said. “Did you put together a charcuterie board?”
Dean finished opening the wine and made a pained expression as he filled their glasses. “Shut up,” he said. “I looked up picnic foods and it sounded easy. Plus there’s meat and cheese, so, something I might actually want to eat.” Sam got up from the table and Dean looked alarmed. “Where are you going?”
Sam joined Dean on the other bench. “Nowhere,” he said, and leaned in to kiss Dean gently.
“Sharing one side of the table like a couple of jerks,” Dean muttered, but his eyes were bright and a smile kept fighting its way onto his face.
Dean handed Sam a glass of wine and raised his own. “To, um – ” He grimaced. “I don’t know, Sammy. What am I supposed to say? ‘To us’ or some corny shit like that?”
Sam clinked his glass against Dean’s. “No,” he replied, smiling at his brother. “You don’t have to say anything at all.”
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Date: 2021-01-17 10:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-01-18 03:29 am (UTC)