Characters: Sam/Dean (Wincest, PWP, Schmoop)
Summary: Sometimes doing nothing is the best something of all…
Author's Notes: Written for the schmoopfest challenge, this is for the prompt "Lazy Day"—which will be incredibly obvious as you read it.
"Where do you want to go for breakfast?" Dean asks.
"Go?" Sam says. "Don't want to go anywhere. I'm not leaving this bed."
Dean raises an eyebrow. "So that's how it is."
"Damn right." Sam pulls Dean back down to him, hands sliding up Dean's back and across his shoulders. He cups Dean's neck and head, leaning in for a kiss that brings back everything they did in this bed just fifteen minutes ago, everything this part of their life has become.
"I take it you don't care about the poltergeist in Wilsonville?"
"It's in a tea shop," Sam murmurs against Dean's lips. "Let it have some fun with the china. We'll get it tomorrow."
The only words left then are quiet pleas and the music of each other's names.
"The Price Is Right, or Jeopardy?" Sam's lying on his stomach, working the remote and crunching on an apple while Dean washes his face in the bathroom.
"Price is Right." Dean comes back into the bedroom. "It's too early in the day to watch people be smart. Plus, Bob Barker is older than dirt. I'm not sure he's human—I keep waiting for a sign."
Sam scoots over so Dean can settle in next to him, but before long he's rubbing his shoulder against Dean's and smiling in that teasing, half-secret way.
"Thought you wanted to watch TV," Dean says.
Sam grins. "I'm over it now. C'mon, let's break in this bed."
"I could seriously use some real food about now." Dean's voice buzzes against the back of Sam's neck, where Sam can feel it as much as hear it and the deepness of it makes him shiver.
"You held out longer than I thought you could," Sam says, rubbing his fingers absently over Dean's hand.
Dean nuzzles Sam's neck, sucks an earlobe into his mouth. "Made it worth my while," he murmurs.
The world tilts and spins inside Sam's head from that sensation and it takes a moment to find his breath. "Won't be the last time, if you stay away from the garlic and onions at lunch."
"Find me endless quantities of food, and I can work with anything."
Sam squeezes Dean's hand and sits up slowly, reaching for his pants. "The Sizzler buffet it is…"
"God, I'm stuffed," Dean groans from the passenger seat.
"Knew you'd overdo it," Sam says.
"Shut up," Dean grumbles, slipping deeper into a slouch. "Where to now?"
"How 'bout swinging by the room and taking some bread to the pond to feed the ducks?" Sam tries to make the idea sound casual, and fails.
"You romantic charmer, you," Dean smiles, shaking his head. "That bread was getting pretty stale, anyway," he admits.
"The ducks won't mind."
There is silence for all of a block, before Dean can't hold back. "As long as we're going to the pond, I'd much rather—"
"—bean the ducks with the bread instead of feeding them. What a surprise." Sam reaches over and pats Dean's leg in a totally patronizing way. "Save it for the end."
Dean smiles like an evil seven-year-old. After I've earned their trust…
"You know we could've gotten arrested for that."
"It's the 21st century. People need to get over themselves." Sam sounds defensive.
"And yet they don't, and jail cells suck," Dean points out.
"All right, all right. Next time I'll wait until it's dark."
Dean's grin starts slow and just keeps building. "You little delinquent."
"You taught me well…"
"Gonna teach you some more as soon as we get back to the room."
Dean likes to come off as tough, but as soon as Sam gets a few slow, soft kisses on him Dean will melt.
"Like that?" Sam whispers, holding Dean under the slick-wet heat of the shower.
Dean gasps in answer and shakes as Sam's hands travel in smooth circles, drifting lower and starting up a rhythm of sweet torture-twist-release. "Just… god… Sammy!"
"I've got you," Sam soothes, leaning in to capture Dean's mouth as the edge rises up and pushes forward into bone-shattering bliss.
Dean shudders, moans and gives himself over to all of it. The only word he can wrap his thoughts around is a mantra of Sam…
Dean's stretched out on the bed wearing only a towel, half-asleep. Sam is there standing over him, Dean can feel it. He opens an eye.
"Don't fade out on me just yet," Sam says, "the day's not over."
Dean's head is practically floating around on its own, and the dreamy-dizzy haze he's in is perfect. "Jesus, Sam, you can't be serious. I think you broke me."
"It's okay—I'll be doing most of the work."
Sam sits down on the bed and reaches out with gentle fingers to stroke Dean's stomach, his chest and arms. Soft kisses follow behind, quiet and undemanding.
The skin beneath Sam's touch begins to tingle, as Dean's body soaks up the kind of attention he can never manage to resist. "Mmmm, Sammy…" The sound Dean makes is practically a purr.
Sam parts Dean's legs, moving in between them and rocking lightly as he mouths Dean's jaw and neck. When Dean's arms come around him, Sam lifts up and takes in the sight of Dean's eyes glowing up at him. This is where Sam is happiest, this place without words where everything between them is as tangible as touch or sound.
He kisses Dean then, falling into that feeling like he'll never be able to leave it. When he's finally inside Dean, all velvet-smooth heat and friction wrapped around him, he takes it sure and sweet and slow.
Dean trembles underneath him, his freckles standing out against the damp flush on his cheeks. That moment is Sam's signal to kiss and stroke Dean up and over to the breathless finish.
His name on Dean's lips is all it takes for Sam to follow.
Afterwards, he curls around Dean and leans his forehead in the space against Dean's throat. His arm lies heavily on Dean's chest, the up and down motion of Dean's breathing growing shallow as minutes pass.
"Can't believe you coaxed that out of me," Dean mumbles happily.
Sam nuzzles Dean's neck, his bones liquid with contentment. "Knew you were up to the challenge. Just needed a little persuasion."
Dean kisses Sam's hair through a smile, brushes his hand over Sam's arm in one last, lazy gesture.
As the room grows dark, Sam whispers under his breath, "Best day in a long time, Dean."
My pleasure, Sammy. Me too.
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