This week's prompt - Public

for open_on_sunday

They had things they showed to their friends.

Fighting. Snarking. Insults. Murder attempts. Arguments. Barely tolerating each other’s presence.

Other times, they had something a little different. It always started out with a fight. One of them punching or kicking the other, hurled curses and epitaphs.

But that part of it always ended differently than the others might suspect. Buffy’s back against a wall, her legs wound around Spike’s hips, her back against a wall. Spike pushing inside of her, sometimes cracking plaster behind them, still violent but satisfying in an entirely different way.

Not for public knowledge. Not ever.

spn_30snapshots ficlet - Dirt

Title: All That’s Left
Author: verucasalt123
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Claim: Theme 01: Elemental
Theme: http://verucasalt123.livejournal.com/85331.html
Prompt(s): #24, dirt
Rating: R
Disclaimer: These boys do not belong to me.
Summary: He thought he’d never have it again, and that was okay.

He wished, for just a moment, that he could taste something else. Leather, smoke, gun oil, sweat. Dean.

But that wasn’t what he got. He thought, after this, all that was gone, and he’d never taste those things again. .

Right now all Sam had was the dirt that coated the worn-out carpet. He was pushed into it, unable or at the very least unwilling to fight back, as Dean pushed his face to the ground, and he tried to breathe, but no air entered his lungs. Just dirt, as Dean pushed him into the floor of the motel room, screaming his anger into the open space above him. Righteous anger, well-deserved.

Sam was sorry, he really was. And Dean must have known it as he pulled him up. Now there was air, and the dirt was gone. Gone from his lungs, but not gone from him. Sam was dirty, but Dean loved him just as much.