004. Mordant
Jan. 4th, 2009 07:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sethgrayTitle: Mordant
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: Um, R-ish?
Warnings: pwp, powerplay, pre-spanking
Word Count: 559
Spoilers: No
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. I make no money and have no rights to the characters etc.
Prompt: Mordant, adjective: (esp. of humor) having or showing a sharp or critical quality. Biting.
If Dean made one more snarky comment, Sam was gonna snap. He had this feeling in the back of his mind like maybe that was the point, but he was too pissed to really care. Dean hadn’t really seemed like he was in a foul mood that morning, he’d been his usual I-so-wasn’t-cuddling self.
But as the day wore on, Dean started taking little potshots at Sam. It wasn’t like his brother’s mordant sense of humor was anything new, but these quips seemed less quippy than normal. More mean-spirited.
First was the coffee (girly shit, Sam), then the witness they were interviewing (I don’t think your puppy eyes worked this time, lover boy), then it was the crazy-ass monkey totem responsible for the whole mess (that was some nice kid gloves back there, Sam. He might have even felt a few).
Sam didn’t know what his brother’s problem was, but he was over it.
As they shuffled back into their dirty hotel room, Dean leading the way, Sam let out a weary sigh.
“Aww, worn out already, Sammy?” Dean tossed back. It was the first time he’d called him Sammy all day.
With something like a snarl, Sam dropped the duffle he was carrying and strode to the shitty little motel table. He snatched the back of a chair and pulled it out to the center of the room. Then, Dean’s curious eyes on him, he sat deliberately down.
“Come here, Dean” Sam said, calm.
Green eyes swept him up and down. “Why?”
“Dean.” There was more force in Sam’s voice now. “Come. Here.”
Slowly, like the whole thing was his idea, Dean sauntered over to his brother. He had been about to crack one off about Sam being just the right height when his brother spoke.
“Lean over my knees.”
It didn’t take a genius to see what Sam wanted. Dean backed up a step. “No!”
Sam’s eyes bored into his face with such a strange intensity Dean almost felt himself blushing.
“All day long, Dean,” Sam said. “All day you’ve been doing your very best to piss me off. If this is what you wanted, just ask next time.”
This time, Dean did flush. “I don’t want—”
“Tough,” Sam bit off. “This genie’s out of the bottle.”
Taking a different tactic, Dean pleaded, “Sammy, come on.”
“If you act like a child, Dean, you get treated like a child.” Sam gave him another one of those intense looks. “Last chance. Over my knees.”
Swallowing hard, Dean walked forward until his knees were knocking against his brother’s. Usually, this would be the time when Sam would take over, help Dean through it. He could imagine Sam reaching up to take his wrist, and pulling Dean down over his lap. Sam didn’t do that this time, though. He just waited, staring up at his brother.
After a few moments of Dean not moving, Sam sighed and started to rise.
Panicked, Dean ground out, “No! I’ll do it.”
With a skeptical look on his face, Sam sat back down. Dean knew he was totally being played, but he didn’t care. He made Sam feel bad, so if he could start this he could finish it.
Taking a helpless gasp of air, Dean awkwardly bent over his brother’s lap.
For the first time all day, Sam smiled. “Good boy, Dean.”
~~~~~~~~~
<---- Back to 003. Exuberance or On to 005. Morbid ---->
There are still open slots to fill with prompts for the interested.
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: Um, R-ish?
Warnings: pwp, powerplay, pre-spanking
Word Count: 559
Spoilers: No
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. I make no money and have no rights to the characters etc.
Prompt: Mordant, adjective: (esp. of humor) having or showing a sharp or critical quality. Biting.
If Dean made one more snarky comment, Sam was gonna snap. He had this feeling in the back of his mind like maybe that was the point, but he was too pissed to really care. Dean hadn’t really seemed like he was in a foul mood that morning, he’d been his usual I-so-wasn’t-cuddling self.
But as the day wore on, Dean started taking little potshots at Sam. It wasn’t like his brother’s mordant sense of humor was anything new, but these quips seemed less quippy than normal. More mean-spirited.
First was the coffee (girly shit, Sam), then the witness they were interviewing (I don’t think your puppy eyes worked this time, lover boy), then it was the crazy-ass monkey totem responsible for the whole mess (that was some nice kid gloves back there, Sam. He might have even felt a few).
Sam didn’t know what his brother’s problem was, but he was over it.
As they shuffled back into their dirty hotel room, Dean leading the way, Sam let out a weary sigh.
“Aww, worn out already, Sammy?” Dean tossed back. It was the first time he’d called him Sammy all day.
With something like a snarl, Sam dropped the duffle he was carrying and strode to the shitty little motel table. He snatched the back of a chair and pulled it out to the center of the room. Then, Dean’s curious eyes on him, he sat deliberately down.
“Come here, Dean” Sam said, calm.
Green eyes swept him up and down. “Why?”
“Dean.” There was more force in Sam’s voice now. “Come. Here.”
Slowly, like the whole thing was his idea, Dean sauntered over to his brother. He had been about to crack one off about Sam being just the right height when his brother spoke.
“Lean over my knees.”
It didn’t take a genius to see what Sam wanted. Dean backed up a step. “No!”
Sam’s eyes bored into his face with such a strange intensity Dean almost felt himself blushing.
“All day long, Dean,” Sam said. “All day you’ve been doing your very best to piss me off. If this is what you wanted, just ask next time.”
This time, Dean did flush. “I don’t want—”
“Tough,” Sam bit off. “This genie’s out of the bottle.”
Taking a different tactic, Dean pleaded, “Sammy, come on.”
“If you act like a child, Dean, you get treated like a child.” Sam gave him another one of those intense looks. “Last chance. Over my knees.”
Swallowing hard, Dean walked forward until his knees were knocking against his brother’s. Usually, this would be the time when Sam would take over, help Dean through it. He could imagine Sam reaching up to take his wrist, and pulling Dean down over his lap. Sam didn’t do that this time, though. He just waited, staring up at his brother.
After a few moments of Dean not moving, Sam sighed and started to rise.
Panicked, Dean ground out, “No! I’ll do it.”
With a skeptical look on his face, Sam sat back down. Dean knew he was totally being played, but he didn’t care. He made Sam feel bad, so if he could start this he could finish it.
Taking a helpless gasp of air, Dean awkwardly bent over his brother’s lap.
For the first time all day, Sam smiled. “Good boy, Dean.”
~~~~~~~~~
<---- Back to 003. Exuberance or On to 005. Morbid ---->
There are still open slots to fill with prompts for the interested.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2009-01-05 03:19 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-05 03:20 am (UTC)*grins*
And it's more like pre-spanking, really. *changes warning*
no subject
on 2009-01-05 05:05 am (UTC)Sam really doesn't have a choice here.
And, of course, "Good boy, Dean." is one of my favorite lines too. I never get sick of it. In fact, I've used it a time or two myself. :)
no subject
on 2009-01-05 05:11 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-05 05:17 am (UTC)It wouldn't be your Dean.
no subject
on 2009-01-05 05:27 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-01-05 06:05 am (UTC)