every breath is a victory (moveablehistory) wrote in thistogether,
every breath is a victory
moveablehistory
thistogether

laughter, defiant.

title: laughter, defiant.
rating: 14a
pairing: Sam/Dean
notes: for veronamay, happy birthday! here's 2300ish words of lighthearted Sam/Dean. Unbeta'd. :)


counter statistics
*
"Look, I don't see what the big deal is." Dean nodded, hefted a 30lb bag of road salt into the cart. Sam grimaced and leaned against the cart. Idly he picked up a container of dead sea salt and shook it, grains rattling around inside.

"Do you think dead sea salt would work better?"

Dean plucked it out of his hand and threw it in the cart. "Couldn't hurt."

Sam surveyed the cart.
1. 2 bags of rock salt- check.
2. 1 container of dead sea salt- check.
3. 5 boxes of empty shotgun cartridges- check.
4. 2 plain throw blankets (they were on sale, and winter's coming) - check.
5. 3 boxes of strike-anywhere matches- check.
6. 1 roll of copper wire- check.
7. 2 bulk discount bags of chocolates- check.
8. 3 small and medium sized containers of accelerant- check.
9. Issue #1 (Sam was very excited) of The Astonishing X-Men- check.
That was all they needed, for now.


*


"Going hunting? Sure got a lot of ammo." The cashier scanned the stuff easily and she didn't wait for an answer. "Comes to $72,23."

"Mastercard?"

"Yeah." Dean offered the card, she took it, snapped her gum after a pause. "Sign here, Mr. Plant." Dean moved to sign but the card machine lit up, and the cashier smacked it, muttering damn machines, always acting up, stupid head offices and their "cutting costs" and "saving money" my ass..."

She trailed off, looked at Dean with wide eyes. "Sir, your card has been reported as fraudulent, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wait here..."

Dean's eyes flicked to the security guard standing beside the door and sized him up, flicked back the the cashier who had an increasing alarmed look on her face. He knew her foot was hovering over the silent alarm - Dean glanced at Sam and back to the guard, Sam shook his head.

"Ma'am, this is just a misunderstanding, I'm sure." Sam's reassuring tone seemed to settle her down, but the guard walked over casually.

"Is there a problem here?"

The cashier nodded slowly, started to say something slowly but Sam interupted quickly, "Ma'am, is there is a bathroom?" He shifted his weight from foot to foot, let a grimace slide across his face.

Dean caught Sam's eyes fast. "Yeah, he's got irritable bowel, you know? Better find one fast-"

The guard stepped back and held up his hands in mock surrender. "There's one in the back, just to the left of the entry bay, just-"

Sam nodded tightly and pivoted towards the back. Dean moved to follow but the guard caught his arm - "Hey, hey, you don't need to go with him."

"He's my brother!"

"You want to go the bathroom with your brother?" The security guard raised an eyebrow and Dean stifled a grin.

"Did I say brother?" He barked out a laugh. "I meant-" he searched for words, "-lover! Yes, I meant love-er. Sorry! He really needs me to be all reassuring." Dean leaned in conspiratorially to whisper something like "And do I know how to be... reassuring."

The guard would have made a face, but he was a professional. "Go, and come right back!"

Dean leered. "Oh, we'll be quick."

*

Dean caught up to Sam and followed him into the bathroom, an almost-clean single stall unisex deal. He locked the door behind them, and leaned up against it.

"So what now, huh?" Dean stuck his hands in his pockets. Sam paced the tiny space for a minute, he seemed to fill it all up. "We can't stay here."

"I know!" Sam paused in front on a vent. "We can escape through an airshaft!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "As if you could fit in there." He reached out and grabbed the beltloops on either side of Sam's hips. "I've got a better idea."

Sam fought for a second, let himself be pulled in. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

Dean winked. "Listen," he paused, and both of them could hear the guard tapping his toes against the linoleum just outside the door. "Hear that?"

"Yeah, so? We knew he was going to keep an eye on us."

"Yeah, so, we've got to get him to move so we can get out." Dean threw his head back against the door and moaned loudly, "God, Sam!"

"Are you serious!?" Sam stepped back but Dean didn't let him move away.

"Work with me here." Dean whispered quietly, and then groaned again, gasp on the end. Sam let a grin tug at the corner of his mouth, but he nodded, pushed Dean up against the door, stepped in between his legs and rocked, rhythm against the door.

"Dean, shit, Dean-" Sam aimed his voice through the door, leaning in so his lips were beside Dean's ear, curled down and over. "Put on a good show now, sweetheart." Sam breathed, Dean let himself slide down the door a little and he whimpered purposefully, left loud smacking noises against Sam's cheekbones and jaw and corner of his mouth, enough to let him still growl and rustle against his skin.

Between breaths and wet kisses Dean paused, listened to the guard gag a little and walk away fast. "Come on, let's go-" Dean turned and opened the door a crack, "-we've got to move-" he grabbed Sam's elbow and pulled Sam behind him. The guard was halfway back up to the front; they ducked back to loading bay. Dean jiggled the locks on the huge sliding door but they didn't move.

"So what now, genius?" They ducked down into the lowest rung of a industrial shelf, and Sam was frowning because he'd hit his head and it stung.

"Wait unil the store closes, then sneak out. Obviously, Sam- hey! We can do that 50 Things To Do In Wal-Mart!"

"We're not in a Wal-Mart, Dean, this is a-"

"-shh!"

They shrunk back as far into shadows as they could while forklift passed them, carrying what appeared to be a hell of a lot of cases of Spam.



*

Sam elbowed Dean in the ribs, Dean jerked away, all huh-wha?

"I think the store is closed." Sam whispered, and then he crawled out from under the shelf they'd been cramped up under, hardly visible in the dark.

"Sam!" Dean hissed, grabbed Sam by the back of his jeans and hauled him back under the shelf, Sam fell against him hard and Dean could practically taste the indignation. "Sam, could be sensors out there, you really want a silent alarm?"

"Shit, you're right."

"Yeah, course I'm right. Now help me look for sensors." Dean peeked out from under, barely moving, and looked around. "I see blinking red lights in the three corners opposite, can't get a bead on any above us. You notice any before?"

"Yeah, when we dove under, I think on the upper left?"

"Left left or the other left?"

"Other left, our right."

"Just making sure, Sam."

*

"Oh, what do we have here?" Dean grinned, smirked, slid his hand down Sam's belly to thumb open his belt, unzip and take Sam in hand.

"Christ! Dean! We're in the toy department!"

"You afraid that GI Joe's gonna be scarred for life? 'Cause I hate to tell you, but what happens in the army stays in the army.

Sam rolled his eyes and groaned - first in annoyance, but then Dean flicked his wrist and it was so much better than good, he leaned in and pressed against Sam, hips snug together and licking at lips.

Sam stepped back to lean against a Pirates of the Caribbean display, and Dean followed.

*

Dean patted the gaudy display duvet. "You gonna turn down an opportunity to sleep on a real live waterbed?"

Sam rolled his eyes but fell across it speadeagle anyways. "Could there be anything more tacky?"

"I could go to the home decor section and find a big mirror to nail to the ceiling." Dean offered, licking his fingers, last bits of improvised hot dog sticking to his skin. Sam's eyes glazed over. "Stop looking at me like I'm a piece of meat." Dean said in all seriousness, but Sam raised himself up on his elbows as much as he could and tugged Dean down across him.

"Ummpf!" Dean growled, bumped down against Sam's hips and playnipped at Sam's chin, Sam laughed and pushed Dean off him. Elbowed him in the ribs, skittered fingertips across sides and Dean laughed back.

"Dean- Dean, we can't- fuck!- Dean!"

"Oh, I know you didn't just say what I think you said."

"Huh? Shit!" Sam detangled himself from around Dean. "We're in a display bed. Do you have any idea how many people have 'tested' these things? Eww no!"

Dean patted Sam's shoulder reassuringly. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

Sam flopped back down. "Can you imagine how nasty it'd be to have clean up?"

"I'd rather not."

"Seriously. I'd quit. Like that time when we tried to save some cash by sneaking into a room somebody had just left, remember? Oh god, that was- fuck!"

"What!"

"Do you there there are cameras?!" Sam pulled the covers up over his head. "Like, security cameras? Oh my god, there's gonna be cops and we're gonna be charged with food theft and misuse of property and public indecency-"

"-this is hardly public-"

"-and it's all your fault!"

"What are you, twelve?"

Dean reached up and tucked the edges of the covers under Sam's head, and then he pressed close in a very manly way.

"Best bed we've had in a while, Sam. We should take advantage of it."

"Dean-"

"Sleep, Sam. I'll try to wake you up before the morning."

*

A red light was blinking somewhere, and Dean couldn't tell if it was a camera, or some toy some kid had activated and no one had remembered to shut off, or maybe it was a something else and he would have to burn it in the middle of this big box store.

Sam's back settled against his, and he could hear Sam sigh in his sleep, a gentle breath in and out.

He took his eyes off the light. His watch beeped quietly, muffled under feather duvet weight and warmth; he looked and it blinked 4:00.

Not time yet, but if he fell asleep now then there was no way he'd wake up properly to get them up. He hated this feeling, the oh crap, I should have fallen asleep hours ago but I couldn't.

Sam rolled, flopped an arm over his chest and said something indistinguishable. Dean whispered "shhh," pushed Sam's arm down to settle across his waist so he could breathe.

"Hmm?" Sam's half-awake sound was sleepyquiet and all Dean could hear.

"Mmm-mmm," Dean responded. Secret code for yeah, just me, go back to sleep.

"Mmmmm," Sam sighed, turned his head just a little and tucked his nose against Dean's shoulder. "Go to sleep."

"Can't."

Sam pushed up a little, repositioned himself to look down at Dean, propped up on elbow and forearm, grinning down. Hips askew, legs tangled up together. Bent his head a little, enough to touch Dean's lower lip with teeth, eyes open until they both couldn't help it and eyes fluttered closed.

Dean figured he could wake up all the way for this, Sam's weight pressing him down into the wellworn display mattress on top of the wellworn display box frame, midlevel designer sheets. He licked at Sam's lips, traced the corner of Sam's mouth with the tip of his tongue, salt and leftover hours-old coffee taste; something undefineable and familiar. "Sam," Dean whispered.

Sam didn't pause, just said "what?" in between lip presses against the corner of Dean's jaw, the pulsepoint on the side of his neck. His mouth. Slow, open, meet in the middle and taste, feel everything. Hands skittered down sides over ribs, faint tickles, Sam didn't shift when Dean bucked up against him in silent laughter.

Sam's grin was bright in the dark. "You're so tired; makes you all girly and soft, how'm I supposed to turn that down?"

"I'magonna kick y'ass," Dean slurred, eyes at halfmast and more than half asleep. "Won't know when r'where, jus' watch- watch it."

Sam didn't pay any attention to mostly-empty threats, just reached a little, moved his thumb back and forth over the bones of Dean's wrist.

*

A janitor stood at the foot of the bed, broom under one arm and blue coverall smudged with cleaner, bits of duct tape stuck at elbows and knees.

She sighed, then leaned forward enough to poke at the giant lump under the covers with the pointy end of her broom.

"Five more minutes!"

She tapped her toes against the linoleum and right away two bodies in sync shot up covers off, hair sticking up in cowlicks and all directions. Eyes wild, hands beneath backs as if hiding.

The shorter one started to speak, but she held a hand up and turned away, not looking. "I don't even want to know, I'm not paid enough to care. I'm giving you five minutes to remake the bed, clean up, and get out."

The taller one's jaw gaped, and it looked like he was about to say something inane, like thank you, or something stupid, like aren't you going to get in trouble for that?

"Uh-uh, I don't want to hear it. Just go."

*

"Didn't get the stuff." Sam bumped his shoulders against Dean as they left through the back door.

"Nope."

"Didn't get the card back, either."

"Marked, anyways. Don't want it." Dean bumped back, hipcheck over a step.

"Robert Plant was my favourite."

"Mine too."

"Least we saved money on gas, motel, food. Probably made up for it."

"Probably. Should have grabbed some stuff on our way out."

"You didn't?" Sam looked genuinely surprised. "It's okay," he grinned, and pulled two giant chocolate bars out of his back pocket, "I got two."

The impala was parked exactly where they'd left it. Dean touched the edges of her lines all the way up her body, Sam quirked up the corner of his mouth and didn't say anything.

Both of them just slid inside, back where they belonged.
Tags: fandom: supernatural, genre: comedy, genre: crack, genre: schmoop, length: 2000-3000, pairing: sam/dean, rating: r
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