Because sometimes we all need cuddles...

[errant_jane]

OKAY HI!! So. I don't know about you guys, but I could use a little levity right about now. And I want my levity in the form of CUDDLES!! Ergo:

The SPN CuddleCommentFic Meme

RULES (Such as they are...)

1. Leave a prompt! Any pairing! Gen is also fine, so long as there are cuddles. Put the pairing in the subject line. If it's gen, say whether it's SPN or RPF. Examples:

subject: Jared & Jensen gen, Prompt: the Js go camping and share a tent and there is accidental cuddling. Or subject: Sam/Dean, Prompt: snowstorm.

2. Check out the prompts! Write me ridiculously schmoopy cuddle stories!! If cuddles lead to porn, that is ALSO acceptable. (Does that need to be said?) If it gets too long for comments and you want to post to your journal, leave a comment with the link, please! (Put your story or link as a reply to the prompt you're filling). I'll put up a masterlist for easy navigations.

3. PIMP IT!

<center><a href="http://elizah-jane.livejournal.com/80572.html"><font size="5" face="Georgia, Arial">The <font color="maroon">SPN CuddleCommentFic</font> Meme</font></a></center>

Comments

Jared/Jensen RPF or Sam/Dean SPN

[egotists.livejournal.com]

Jared/Jensen or Sam/Dean - Cuddling on a long plane flight.

This Isn't the Mile High Club.

[kelleigh.livejournal.com]

It starts with a hand. Dean's left creeping over Sam's jeans. When Sam double checks, Dean is definitely still out cold.

It's a long flight from Philadelphia to Santa Fe, and the only way Dean would willingly board an aircraft (and Dean had nixed any unwilling scenarios pretty early) was knocked out on sleeping pills. Simple and brilliant. Save for one minor freak out on the jetway, Dean was loopy all during the safety demonstration, finally passing out just before their flight was cleared for take off.

There it is again. Dean's fingers - they're definitely moving. Petting, Sam's brain provides, gently over Sam's thigh. Not a catastrophe by any means, but it's weird.

Five minute later, Dean's entire hand is wrapped over Sam's thigh like it's his pillow and Dean is definitely turned away from the aisle. Leaning, it pushes Dean into Sam's space. Thank god there's only two seats on their side of the aisle or Dean's drugged up cuddling would start to be embarrassing.

Make that really embarrassing now as Dean's head falls on Sam's shoulder, the only space between them handily provided by the stupid, bulky armrest. If he drools on Sam, so help him, he's going to—

"Aw." The attendant coos, not a hair out of place in her up-do. "Doesn't he like flying?"

"Guess not," Sam grits through his teeth, wishing she'd just hand over his Coke and move along.

"Well," she chirps, "it's always nice to have someone to snuggle with if you're afraid of flying, and you look like a big teddy bear."

Teddy bear, Sam's ass. Speaking of which, that part of his anatomy is going numb, unable to move with Dean practically draped over him. But he can't chance waking Dean up. Even will the sleeping pills, sudden movement could land Sam in an even worse situation, dealing with Dean's freak outs.

Which, now that Sam thinks about it, can be sort of adorable. In a completely dorky way, of course. In the way that it would provide awesome ammunition to use against his macho big brother. Sam smirks, but it quickly droops when Dean snuffles and shifts. Shit. The next person who strolls down the aisle is going to report them for indecent...cuddling.

After a few minutes, and once Sam eventually manages to move enough so that he's more comfortable, he discovers that being a human in-flight pillow isn't all drool and snores. Dean's really warm, breath hitting Sam's neck over his shirt. So warm it's making Sam sleepy despite the torture devices they cal airplane seats. With the thrum of the engines blocking out everyone around him, Sam drifts as the plane rockets above the clouds towards the Southwest.

He'll never tell Dean how nice it is, being cuddled even unconsciously. Or how Dean's face looks different when he's so relaxes and not spazzing over potential scenarios in which their plane might crash.

Sam sighs. Yeah...this is nice. Doesn't mean he won't completely make fun of Dean later (and he manages a quick shot with his camera phone for proof), but for now Sam lets his eyes slip closed, falling asleep as they wing their way across the skies.



HOLY SCHMOOP, SAM. ♥

[elizardbits.livejournal.com]

IDK dude I am so tainted by fandom that all I want to request are fics where Jensen's ass is cuddling Jared's dick. :/

YES, I MEAN FICS WHEREIN JENSEN'S ASS BECOME SENTIENT AND ACTIVELY SEEKS OUT JARED'S COCK FOR SNUGGLES. idefk.

[poor-choices.livejournal.com]

It starts as a twinge.

"Ow," says Jensen.

"What?" asks Jared.

Jensen tries to figure out how to say my ass hurts without Jared making a joke about gay sex. There is no way. "Nothing," he says.

Then it happens again. Jensen's ass, like--pulls.

"Jesus!" says Jensen. He flips over.

"Dude, are you having a spasm?" asks Jared. He sounds more intellectually interested than, like, concerned. Jared is an asshole. "Are you epileptic now?"

"I don't even--" Jensen feels his ass dragging him. Into Jared's lap.

"Uh," says Jared. Jensen's ass is, like, rubbing against Jared's dick. And there might be a purring noise coming from--a place Jensen does not want to consider.

"Uh," says Jensen. Jared's dick totally twitches against his ass.

"You know, most people just use a pickup line," says Jared.

Jensen does not dignify this with a response. He just kisses Jared.

Somewhere, under Jensen's pants, Jensen's now sentient ass smiled.

Let's not think about how.

Dean+Castiel, gen

[vikki.livejournal.com]

Dean hugs Castiel for whatever reason.

DO IT.

DIS PROMPT IS MIEN. *noms*

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

He was back at Bobby's house after using that last speck of angel to nick Pestilence's ring, looking much the worse for wear and still sort of feeling like he was about to hurl all over everything. Castiel didn't much like feeling this way, and the fact that he could do nothing to make himself healthier sure didn't help. Exhausted, his head in his hands, he sat in the corner of the room, breathing shallowly and trying to keep down that lunch he'd been inexplicably hungry for earlier today.

"Dude, you really look like you're about to blow chunks," Dean said from the other end of the room.

Castiel grimaced. "Don't say that. It makes me feel worse."

Dean chuckled. Castiel didn't have to look up to tell that Dean's hands were slung into his pockets, that he was approaching with a lopsided grin on his face. "Man," he said. "I don't mean to rub it in, Cas, but... how the mighty have fallen."

"Thanks." Castiel snapped. "You're so understanding."

"Sorry, sorry." Dean's voice was singsong, evasive.

Castiel stood. "What do you want?" he asked tetchily.

Dean gazed at him, and there was a levelness in his eyes that surprised Castiel. "Honestly?" he said. "I just kind of wanted to say I'm glad to see you again. We worried about you."

The statement came so far out of left field that Castiel actually twitched. He'd seen this sort of thing before, heard that sort of line, but never from Dean. He wasn't quite sure whether this would play out as expected, and finally, he just decided to ask. "Are you going to... hug me now?"

"What? No." Dean let out a derisive breath, waving away the idea. Then his eyes darted back toward Cas. "Why? ...Do you want me to?"

"No!" Castiel declared reflexively. But he was fixating now on Dean's hands.

"Good," Dean said. He looked away.

"Good," Castiel echoed.

They stood, not looking at each other, for a long beat.

"Aw, shit." Dean opened his arms. "Don't tell Sam about this, OK?"

"I won't if you won't," Castiel muttered, shuffling forward. The minute Dean's arms closed around him, the minute their forms locked, he forgot everything but how warm it all was. He pushed in and toward Dean with vigor, his arms closing around Dean's back, and his chin jutted into Dean's shoulder. It was just so unbelievably warm.

"Not a word," he declared after they finally, mercifully parted.

"No." Dean stomped away. "Of course not."

Castiel waited until he'd left the room before allowing himself to grin like an idiot.

Kali & God, gen

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

Kali finds God, who is still mopey and moody. She is unimpressed.

I AM SO SORRY THIS IS NOT REALLY UPLIFTING AT ALL [1/2]

[chibifrieza.livejournal.com]

[So. This is not the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, nor is it the Kali of Hindu. This is effectively a pantheon in an alternate universe, because I'm Catholic, and this is definitely not my God. But I wrote it anyway, because somehow you give prompts that tug at me.]

He’s tucked himself away somewhere kind of bleak, dim and grey and a bit like cotton wool. It wasn’t always like that; sometimes he let his light out, and there was a garden, sort of like the one back home. It was a consolation, at times, to have something to look after, something that responded dumbly to his care and gave him what he asked, instead of disappointing him with every action and inaction. But not lately. Lately, he’s been too occupied with watching further disappointment unfold. They thought he wasn’t paying attention, but, oh, he was. He saw more than they ever imagined. And that was why he stayed away.

It’s hard to watch a vase shatter, harder if you’re the one who made it. It’s orders of magnitude beyond that to watch your vase pull itself apart under your watch, grind its own shards point-to-point against one another until, inevitably, all that’s left is unsalvageable powder. That’s where this is going, and he chose to give them free will, and this is what it’s come to. This is where it’s headed.

But it’s like a train wreck, right? A giant, cosmic train wreck. He’s not fool enough to think it can be stopped, but he can’t, he can’t look away.

He lost another of his eldest the other day. He’s going to lose them all, sooner or later. If he can stand to look at the truth, really, he’s already lost them.

“Oh, please.”

He looks up. “Little sister.”

She ignores his greeting. “This is where you’ve been hiding? You leave the rest of us to bleed and burn and you shut yourself away somewhere that isn’t even worth looking at?” A toss of her dark head, flash of her eyes, dismissing his sanctuary.

“It reflects my state of mind,” he replies evenly. “Why have you come, Kali?”

“To tell you how pathetic you are!” she snarls. “Your creation is completely out of hand, and you won’t lift a finger. One of your brats killed our little brothers, does that mean nothing to you? Did you even know? Do you even care?” There’s thunder rolling up through the timbre of her voice, and her eyes give off sparks. “I know we’ve never been close, but I really thought better of you. You’re the eldest. You have a responsibility to the rest of us, don’t you realise that?”

He shook his head. “We went separate paths long ago. You all chose different ways to exist, and took responsibility for yourselves. You can’t come back to me now and-”

“What about the responsibilities you do acknowledge, then?” Sudden ice crackles the fog around her. “If you won’t lift a finger for us, what about your own children? Your own creations? They’re destroying themselves, they’re usurping my authority and destroying your world and you’ve done nothing.”

.

Anna & Cas, gen or het, 5x21 spoiler

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

Anna visits Cas in the hospital.

(She isn't dead until we see her shadow wings, okay.)

Meridian

[claudiapriscus.livejournal.com]

Umm...for some reason Cas ended up kinda stoned in this. It's a little weird because of that, hope it works for you anyway.

Meridian
The world...swam. He remembered the ocean, the great womb of the world, with its tides and its depths and its cold embrace. This was not that. But his sight had taken on that same hazy and liquid view, like looking through time.

He suspected it was the drugs. It was vaguely familiar from the time after the liquor store, but now it was strong, it's pull inescapable, and delivered in drips directly into the vein.

He rode its currents, trying to lose himself in it; he didn't want to think.

He felt her before he saw her, the warm infusion of heaven sinking into his borrowed bones. He closed his eyes. “They told me you were dead,” he stated, still not looking. “You are dead.” Regret welled up under his collarbone and rolled downward: drowning lungs and stuttering heart.

He opened his eyes. She stood over his bed, lovely and eternal, in no other form than her own. No earthly flesh to weigh her down; a breeze would set her alight. His sister. His comrade.

Castiel sighed. It felt strange and too sensual, rough and delicate, as the air moved from the lungs into the throat. “This is a..” he searched, straining for a concept as illusive as will. “Hallucination,” he concluded. His voice sounded empty and forlorn to his own ears, lacking the reverberation it should have held.

She smiled. Is it? He heard nothing, but remembered.

“Michael-” he started, and then despair closed the throat as he remembered the warehouse and why he was here.

She brushed a hand down his face. It tickled, like the warm sun shining through the window. Faith, brother.

“You speak to me of faith?” It crawled out of his throat and on to his tongue, leaving behind it a bitter wake.

He cared not for this. He turned his face to the wall, waiting for the phantom of this drug-addled mind to dissolve into something else.

He felt her before he saw her, the warm infusion of heaven sinking into his borrowed bones. Her wings twined around him, and she rested her forehead on his.

It felt like forgiveness.

Sam/Dean

[rhythmsextion]

SNOWSTORM.

Yes, I know it's in the example, but I REALLY REALLY WANT IT.

Re: Sam/Dean

[runedgirl.livejournal.com]

Dean’s barely visible by the time Sam finds him, face as white as the snow drifted up around one side of him, lips Sam’s dreamt about kissing too many times pale and bluish instead of the full blush red of Sam’s fantasies. The only splash of color is the streak of blood trickling from one temple, the only place the monster got him before his salt gun got it. Damn Dean for taking off like that, then dropping so suddenly and silently that by the time Sam found him, it was an hour later and ten degrees colder.

“Dean, Dean, hey,” Sam prods, hands brushing off the snow, patting over the firm chest beneath, searching for more red. For the warmth that will tell him he’s not too late.

Dean rouses, tries to push Sam away, grumbling and attempting to burrow back into the mound of snow. He doesn’t fight much when Sam hauls him up, though, head rolling forward and back as Sam half-drags his brother down the hill to the makeshift cabin he passed a quarter mile back. There’s no electricity, no furniture, no running water – but there are four walls that keep out the wind, a rug on the floor, and no fucking white stuff.

Sam doesn’t waste time making a fire, not right away. Dean’s too cold for that, teeth chattering as he slips from Sam’s arms to the floor. His soaked jacket, shirt, jeans, boots, socks – Sam tugs them off as quickly as he can, shucks his own and curls around his brother’s shuddering body. Sam pillows Dean’s head on one of his arms, wraps the other all the way around his brother’s chest. He throws a leg over Dean’s hip, presses so close there’s no space between them, his brother’s heartbeat jackrabbiting against Sam’s bicep, too fast, too fast.

“’s okay, safe now, warm you up,” Sam says against the back of Dean’s neck, nonsense and reassurance and Dean’s name over and over. It’s an easy thing to drop a kiss there, nose against the fine hairs, nuzzle into the cool pale skin of his brother’s throat and cheek. It’s like he has an excuse to be physical – tender, the way Dean would never allow if he were fully here right now – and Sam takes it, pulling his brother’s firm body back against his own, Dean pliant and supple and slowly warming against him.

At some point Sam remembers his own clothes were pretty dry under his coat, and pulls his flannels over them, cocooning them together underneath. Dean sighs and shifts, trying to get more comfortable, and Sam kisses him again, feeling the reassuring pulse at his brother’s throat beat strong and even now, calm and steady under the brush of Sam’s lips.

“Sam?” Dean’s voice is soft, a raspy whisper in the quiet cabin. “Are you – are we – naked?”

“Quickest way to warm someone up,” Sam protests, reluctantly loosening his hold on his brother and scrambling to put some room between his – shit, his dick and his brother’s ass, how did that happen?

Dean’s hand comes up to grip Sam’s arm, pulls it back up tight. He shifts his hips backwards, curls into the curve of Sam’s body, and it’s Sam’s turn to shudder, stomach suddenly trembling with a rush of anticipation. Dean huffs an amused snort, tilts his head back so Sam’s lips are once again brushing against his nape.

“Not quite warm yet,” he says, and he can feel Sam’s smile.

[woodstarling.livejournal.com]

Sam/Cas, Castiel's new to the whole "being cold" thing

Shifting [1/2, Sam/Castiel, PG]

[emerald-embers.livejournal.com]

It was the little changes that made the biggest difference. Castiel having to sleep, eat, drink, use the bathroom - it wasn't like training a toddler, thank God, he'd observed humans enough to know the basics, but it was still obviously unpleasant for him. Worse still when he found out about Jimmy's intolerance for seafood by spending the better part of a night vomiting after finding prawns in their Chinese takeout, and Sam could only be thankful that at least he hadn't gone into anaphylactic shock.

All things considered they were already dealing with the end of the world, looking out for Castiel should have been pretty low on their list of priorities, but as far as Sam could figure saving the world started at home; Bobby had the weird and uncomfortable insurance of his soul being in Crowley's hands, Dean had Death himself, Sam had Lucifer - really, as far as insurance went, all of them were pretty fucked - but Castiel had them.

And that was it. And even then, Bobby didn't particularly seem to like Castiel, likely because he knew full well angels had started this whole mess in the first place.

So Sam had been paying attention, maybe a little more than he should because - because Castiel was an angel, and Sam had been a believer. He couldn't pull the same trick as Dean and Bobby and just pretend Castiel was some normal guy with useful powers; he just couldn't put it out of his mind that here was proof that God - even if He was, seemingly, a bit of a bastard - was real.

An angel watching over him and his brother, literally. It was only natural to return the favour.



Sam had always been a light sleeper compared with Dean, Lucifer's dream-stalking not helping him any, and it wasn't that strange to wake up feeling startled. What was weird was realising it wasn't Dean's snoring or a neighbouring room erupting into yelling and screaming that had woken him, but something Castiel had said - at least, presumably something Castiel had said, given the angel spoke up from his pile of blankets on the floor with "Sorry if I disturbed you".

"What's keeping you up?" Sam whispered, keeping quiet because Dean was a bitch if woken in the middle of the night, rolled his eyes when all Castiel responded with was a shrug. It wasn't any real surprised Dean had taken to Castiel, all things considered getting answers out of the angel was like getting blood out of a stone.

Still, he wasn't the type to let it go, and it didn't escape his notice that for someone trying to sleep, Castiel was curled up tight and holding himself absolutely rigid.

"Are you okay?"

"No," Castiel growled before going quiet again, and Sam gave up, climbed out of bed so he could kneel down next to the angel.

"Seriously Cas, if you're having nightmares or -" And okay, gripping the angel's bare shoulder made it instantly obvious what was wrong. "Cas, you're freezing!"

"I'm just uncomfortable, it'll pass," Castiel insisted, and Sam patted the angel's other shoulder just to make certain.

"No, dude, you're freezing. Why didn't you say anything?"

Castiel responded with a glare and Sam sighed before getting up again, throwing his pillows down next to Castiel and wincing when one of them smacked the angel in the back of the head, then picking up his duvet.

"Roll onto your side."

"Why?"

"Just do it," Sam ordered, lying down next to Castiel and spreading his duvet out over both of them. Advantage of getting a queen's, the duvets were usually pretty generous. "Not having you catching pneumonia."

"I don't get ill," Castiel said despite all evidence to the contrary, still stiff and, given Sam was close enough to actually see it, shivering like crazy.

Jared/Jensen

[rhythmsextion]

Attempt sharing a couch in someone's trailer.

Re: Jared/Jensen

[adja999.livejournal.com]

"Stop fidgeting." Jensen moaned from Jared's side.

"Sorry." Jared shifted again. "Can't get comfortable... why do you keep this couch anyway, there are springs in there, that hurt."

Jensen chuckles, his eyes still closed. "Aw, poor baby. Next time you might wanna try yours. Oh, wait... didn't you just lock yourself out of your trailer?"

"Ha ha." Jared grumbled. "Can't we... How about we actually lie down, Jen?"

Jensen grunted. "As long as you shut up. I only get an hour to nap so, please... I'll go where you want me."

Jared paused on his way of getting up. "That sounds dirty."

"I know." Jensen sighs, shifting and unfolding on the couch, his feet resting on one armrest and his head on the other. "Now... sleeping."

Jared sat back down carefully. "Let me know if i squish you."

"Oh, you'll know." Jensen whispered, half gone.

Jared lies on his side, shifting until he's comfortable.

Unsurprisingly that only comes when Jensen drops his arm around his side to keep him still. Jared melts back into him. Jensen, the human blanket. He can feel the puffs of hair from Jensen's peaceful respiration in his neck.

Going out on a limb, he touches his fingers to the hand Jensen has hanging in front of his chest. Jensen makes a noise, half alseep question that sounds like a breathy moan.
Jared tangles their fingers together loosely. "We should do this more often." he whispers, as low as he could.

Jensen groans, shifts. Jared is afraid he's going to kick him out, or pull his arm back, but instead, his collegue, best friend and roomate slips his ankle between Jared's calves. "You promised you'd shut up." Jensen croaks, pressing closer to his back.

Jared takes a breath, doesn't say anything. The brush of Jensen's lips on the nape of his neck is the best of rewards.

[woodstarling.livejournal.com]

Crowley cuddling with his hellhounds!!

[matalinolukaret.livejournal.com]

... Is he looking at his iPhone?

Jared/Jensen

[errant-jane.livejournal.com]

One of them is doped up on pain pills/sleeping pills/allergy pills. Cuddles ensue.

The Benadryl Blues

[sinnerforhire.livejournal.com]

"You are something else, you know that?"

Jared grabs Jensen before he can tumble head-first into the coat closet. "I mean, seriously. Half a bottle of tequila is nothin', but freakin' Benadryl knocks you flat on your ass? That's kinda pathetic."

"Shuddup," Jensen mumbles as Jared tries to maneuver him across the living room. "'S not my fault."

"And how do you get to be allergic to rats, anyway?" Jared asks as he untangles his limbs from Jensen's and drops him on the couch.

"How'm I s'posed to know?" Jensen topples sideways and Jared quickly shoves a pillow underneath him so he doesn't smack his head on the unpadded part of the arm.

"Hey, don't go to sleep just yet," says Jared. "You need to drink some water and you should use those eye drops she gave you."

"Don' wanna," replies Jensen. He tugs on Jared's wrist and Jared takes advantage of the gesture to pull him upright.

"Two minutes. I just need you up for two more minutes. You can do that, right?"

Jensen frowns. "I guess."

Jared smiles. "Okay, I'll be right back." He fills a glass with water and steadies Jensen's hand while he drinks from it. When the glass is empty, Jared sets it aside. "You think you could make it upstairs?"

Jensen furrows his brow, glances in the direction of the staircase, and shakes his head. "'M tired," he complains. He grasps Jared's wrist again and pulls him toward the couch. "Jus' wanna sleep."

Jared smiles softly and sits down on the couch. "Alright, you win." Jensen slumps onto Jared's chest and Jared slips an arm around him and pulls him close, propping him up so he'll be more comfortable.

Jensen sighs in contentment and snuggles even closer, nuzzling his head into Jared's neck and tickling Jared's collarbone with his still-gelled hair. Jared grins, sliding an arm around Jensen's back and slipping a hand into the pocket of his jeans. Jensen murmurs wordlessly and Jared feels his weight shift ever-so-slightly as he drifts off into sleep.

Becky & Dean, gen or het

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

They have to work together to rescue Sam/Cas/Chuck/whoever. They hit a dead end, and reach the end of their patience with each other and the entire fucking world.

Yes, somehow this leads to hugs.

just like fanfic [1/2]

[bree-black.livejournal.com]

Dean and Becky were hunting Sam. Well, actually, they were hunting for Sam, but there wasn't much of a difference as far as Dean was concerned. Well, actually, there was a huge difference because instead of Sam or Bobby of even Cas sitting in the passenger seat, there was Becky.

“So I’ve been doing some research and I’m pretty sure the racist truck is next.” Becky was struggling to balance a few of those crappy Supernatural novels, a shiny pink laptop and some kind of vaguely-coffee smelling, frothy beverage in her lap at once.

“Fantastic. I’m sure Cass will be glad to hear from me.”
“Cas? You can get in touch with Cas? He doesn’t show up in the canon at all – and Chucky told me you first met in some kind of warehouse where he scared the shit out of you, after you went to hell.” Becky frowned around the straw of her drink, as if being misinformed about the events of Dean’s life was going to cause some kind of crisis of faith.

Dean sighed heavily. “No Castiel, Becky – Cassie. She’s sort of – an ex.”

“Oh right!” Becky perked up immediately. “The sassy, no-nonsense journalist with a keen sense of justice Dean had never really had a chance to let go.” Becky had a disturbing ability to quote sections of those books verbatim, on command. “You were supposed to be in love with her in the book, but I think Chuck embellished or something because she never comes up in the canon again, and Chuck never mentions her.”

“Alright alright enough about my failure of a love life. Can we stay on topic please? Where are...Sam and me, right now?” There was a reason Dean was hunting with Becky, and he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. Sam had come up with this brilliant idea to just go back in time and not kill Lilith, thus never triggering the Apocalypse in the first place. Bobby had been unusually supportive and Cas had thought he might be able to muster up enough angel mojo to make it happen. They’d just needed someone who remembered that night really really well to use as a channel to send them back to that nunnery.

Which is how Dean had ended up in his own past, reliving his own life, with Becky tagging along as an added bonus. To be honest his past wasn’t so bad – all the Wendigos, ghosts and shape-shifters in the world seemed goddamn idyllic compared to Lucifer and the End of the World – but he had work to do in his own time, and he couldn’t just stick around here. So they needed to find Sam – even past!Sam – to do the ritual in reverse and get back.

“I don’t know.” Becky crossed her arms and pouted. Dean figured her sugar high must be wearing off. “Just let me go look up your girlfriend’s address – since you apparently can’t remember.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to rummage through the stack of papers and dog-eared books in the backseat. “You know if you kept a proper journal like your dad you would know this stuff.” More rustling and then, ominously, “Ooops.”

[dauntdraws.livejournal.com]

Sam/Dean or GEN Sam and Dean
Trapped somewhere in the cold, Sam tries to keep a very sick Dean warm until morning. <3

[27-jaredjensen.livejournal.com]

I know I'm way super late on this, but can I snag this prompty?

Jared/Jensen

[rhythmsextion]

At a party, someone passes one (or both!) of them some E and HAPPY, TRIPPED-OUT CUDDLING ENSUES.

Re: Jared/Jensen

[woodstarling.livejournal.com]

DO WANT.

Jared/Jensen

[rhythmsextion]

On a day off, one guy walks into the other's room to wake him up and decides to just climb on in instead.

Re: Jared/Jensen

[blood-ecstasy.livejournal.com]

Jared walked into the room with coffee.
"Wake up sleepyhead!"
"No!"
"Wake up! I have coffee!"
"5 more minutes jerk!"
"Okay, I'll give you 5 more minutes."

Jared climbed into bed with him.
"Oh, this is super toasty warm! Is this a water bed?"
Jared started jumping up and down.
"Fuck you! Padelecki! Fuck you!"
"Awww, I'm sorry. Did I hurt the babies feelings?"
"No."
"Yes I did."
"No!"

Jared grabbed Jensen in a kiss, slipping him some tongue.
"You know, it's okay to stay asleep, if you let me cuddle with you."
"Okay." spoke Jensen, curling up on Jared's chest, his head nuzzling Jared's neck.
"I love you." said Jensen.

Together they both fell asleep.

Sam/Dean gen

[rhythmsextion]

Nine year old Dean cuddles five year old Sam after some kind of mildly traumatic event

Re: Sam/Dean gen

[ou-peachus.livejournal.com]

This please.

A Hug Cures Everything 1/2

[five-of-five.livejournal.com]

Spoilers for 5x21; *facepalm* I can't believe this needed two posts.



Dean grabs a tissue from one of those cheap cardboard boxes all hospitals seemed to be stocked with, using it to wipe the blood from his mouth and then from Pestilence's ring.

"Should we wash this thing?" he askes gesturing with the ring to the sink where their friendly neighborhood disease factory had washed up before examining his latest patient. "Use industrial strength soap and kill 99.9 percent of Pestilence?"

"Dean, why would we need to do that? All our symptoms went away when Cas cut off the ring," Sam pulls out another tissue and cleans off his own blood splattered lips.

"We don't know what might be on this thing," Dean fires back slightly embarrassed.

"Well unless you're planning to lick it.... You know what, maybe we should wash it after all," Sam smirks as only little brothers can.

"Oh screw you, ya...ring licker...person," Dean coughs, turning his attention to Castiel who stood by quietly throughout this exchange of brotherly love and concern. "Cas, it's good to see you man, nice to know losing your mojo hasn't effected your ability to show up in the nick-of-time," an awkward silence fills the space between them, broken briefly by Sam's small scoff and disbelieving eyeroll at his brother's insensitivity as he moves forward to take the ring from Dean's hands and wash it thoroughly.

"You look...alive. Which is more then we really expected," Dean tries again. "Cas?" Dean moves forward waving his hand in front of Castiel's face. "Anybody home? Cas? Cas?!" Castiel stumbles backwards a few steps before Dean catches his arm to steady him.

"My apologies Dean, I believe I may have temporarily," Castiel falters. "Become lost in thought."

"Oh my god," Dean begins gleefully. "You were asleep!"

"I really don't think so Dean."

"Standing up, like a horse!"

"I bare very few resemblances to an equine."

"Dude, I think there's drool on your chin," Dean chuckles, a true smile ghosting across his lips for the first time in what feels like years.

Castiel wipes quickly at his chin, then examines his hand. "There was no drool Dean," he says reproachfully. Dean's laughter only grows at the disgruntled look on Castiel's face.

"I fail to see how this is am-amus-" Castiel breaks off with a yawn so big it pops his jaw as Dean dissolves into manly giggles.

"Dean, wha-" Cas yawns again making Dean laugh so hard he clutches at his side where his ribs are still tender. "What is this? Why-" another yawn. "Why have I lost control of my face?" Dean flaps a hand helplessly at Castiel to try and get him to stop. Sam chooses that moment to walk over with the 99.9 percent un-deadly ring tucked in his pocket.

"There's nothing wrong with you Cas, you're just yawning. It's something," Sam pauses unsure of how to phrase this gently to his newly de-angelified friend. "It's something humans do when they're tired."

"Oh," Castiel whispers forlornly. "Humans. Of course."

Dean leans against a counter wiping tears of mirth from his eyes and regaining his breath.

"Cas," he says, straitening up. "I'm sorry about the whole human thing, but it is damn good to see you again!" Dean exclaims. His whole face lit up once more in one of his megawatt smiles before he pulls the startled angel into his arms.

"Dean," Castiel's voice comes out slightly by Dean's jacket.

"Yes Cas?"

"You're hugging me."

"Yes Cas."

"...Because I yawned?"

"...Yes Cas, because you yawned."

Jensen/Misha RPF

[utterlystrange.livejournal.com]

Jensen/Misha, after a long day's work. (first time cuddling, please.)

Hugs to Warm Me

[hils.livejournal.com]

People had warned Misha about the long hours and the hard work, but nothing had prepared him for the weariness that seeped into his bones after a week of night shooting. He was cold, and he ached and he had no idea how he was still on his feet.

But he had it easy compared to Jensen who had spent the last four hours crying on cue. His eyes were red and puffy and he was swaying on his feet beside Misha while they waited for the car to come and pick them up.

"So, who did Jared blow to get out of this hell?" Misha asked and that got a snort out of Jensen.

"I dunno, but I’m thinking I might send the dogs into his bedroom when I get home.”

Misha grinned. “You’re a vindictive bastard, Ackles. I like it.”

The car arrived and they crawled in, Jensen slumping against the door before they’d even pulled away.

Misha watched as Jensen’s eyes drifted shut. He was starting to understand why Jared had this insane protective streak when it came to Jensen. Even though Jensen was only a couple of years younger than him, and more than capable of looking after himself, there were moments like this when he just looked like he needed someone to take care of him.

“It’s fucking freezing,” Jensen muttered even though his eyes were still shut.

Misha shuffled closer and pulled Jensen towards him. Jensen stiffened in his arms for a moment and then relaxed.

“By the way,” Misha said as Jensen’s arms snaked around his waist. “I just want to make it known that I am in no way getting in the way of the epic romance that is you and Jared.”

Jensen snorted. “Dude, I told you not to read the fanfiction but you wouldn’t listen.”

When Jensen fell silent Misha wondered whether he’d fallen asleep. He was on the verge of it himself.

“You’re more cuddly than Jared anyway,” Jensen said sleepily. “He’s works out too much. It’s like hugging a chunk of wood.”

Misha grinned. “I’ll be sure to tell him you think he’s wooden in the morning.”

“S’not what I meant. I just meant this is nice.”

Misha agreed.

Jared/Jensen

[fayemeadows.livejournal.com]

(Hey, pretend that first prompt didn't exist. I have to lay off the porn, lol!)

The boys throw a small gathering at their house in the fall. They have blankets outside around a fire pit in the yard. They cuddle by the fire while friends mill around, trading stories, playing music, drinking, etc. Very established and comfortable. :D

Jared/Jensen or Sam/Dean

[rhythmsextion]

Cuddling naked in the bathroom. Maybe one of them fresh from the shower, maybe not. Bonus points for mirror usage.

Always you, Dean. Re: Jared/Jensen or Sam/Dean

[ladyashliee5869.livejournal.com]

The water feels good. Not the usual good, pounding heat on aching muscles, but good, the kind of good that Dean thinks he could stand under forever, soaking in the heat, and enveloping comfort.

He tips his head back, letting water run over his closed lids, a few drops trickling between parted lips, and he lets out a contented sigh.

He knows it won't last, a voice in the back of his head warns him of this, that it's a motel room, and motel room hot water runs out fast. So he just stands, leaning one shoulder against the cool tiles, and takes it in, forgetting the rest of the world.

He doesn't hear the bathroom door open.

He doesn't see the shadow pass the glass doors of the shower either, doesn't hear the soft sigh as his brother perches on the counter, and waits.

Sam's always had infinite patience with Dean, even when they were younger, if there was a chance for Dean to relax for more than five minutes, he took it, and Sam had learned to wait, to let his brother have that time.

So he just sits.

And waits.

After what felt like forever to Sam, he hears a sigh over the rush of water, and the shadow of Dean finally moves, reaching behind himself to turn off the water.

The silence in the small room is a bit surreal to both brothers, and Sam quiets his breathing, he can barely hear himself over the last drops that leak from the faucet.

Dean shakes his head, droplets go flying from his short hair, and he reaches for the towel slung over the door, wrapping it around his waist and stepping out of the steam filled stall.

Sam smiles as the door slides open, and his brother steps out, eyes closed, breathing deep, with just a hint of smile playing with the corners of his lips.

'Okay, even you can't breathe that quietly, Sasquatch.'
Dean opens his eyes, and grins at Sam, shaking his head.

'How long were you there?' He asks, and Sam laughs softly, pushing away from the counter and crossing the tiny room in less than a step, sliding into Dean's space. Not that Dean minds, of course, he minds even less when Sam dips his head, hesitating for just a moment, before barely brushing his lips across Dean's.

'Long enough.' Sam murmurs, one hand coming up to rest on Dean's shoulder, the other, a little higher, fingertips softly brushing against Dean's jawline.

Sam moves just a bit closer, bringing them into gentle contact, and he bites his lower lip for a second at the feeling of Deans skin against his. Standing chest-to-chest, Sam smiles and stares at his brother for a moment, laughing softly as Dean squirms a bit when the cool button on Sam's jeans rub against his bare stomach.

Dean's skin is warm, little droplets of hot water cling to him, and Sam traces their path with his hand, sliding down Dean's arm as he kisses him again, another gentle brush of lips.

Posting the second part in a sec or three. :)

Me/Dean - cuddles in thanks for free airplane shots

[roque-clasique.livejournal.com]

Dean comes into the liquor store where I work and I hook it up bigtime with some tiny bottles of sweet tea vodka. Cuddles ensue.

This went a little offtrack, sorry! — 1/2

[azephirin.livejournal.com]

Fuck that shit, it was not a blown oil well—it was a goddamned hellmouth. Ask anybody on the coast, we could have told them that, but of course BP wasn't about to seek the advice of some dirty coast rats. My daddy was a rig man who did some hunting on the side, and I'm not an expert or anything, but I can tell you straight-up that dropping a big-ass box over a deep-sea hellmouth isn't going to do dick. But I'm just a bartender, and my job is to pour the beers and break up the fights for all the people in town to deal with this.

It's about an hour from closing, midweek so it's not too crazy, and I'm getting a head start on cleanup. There's a guy at the end of the bar, scruffy, wearing a leather jacket even in this heat. He catches my eye, and I say, "You want another Lazy Magnolia?" That's the local beer, brewed about 45 minutes from here out in the Kiln.

He shakes his head. His face looks like he's trying to leer at me, but he's just too tired to do it up right. "You got any of that sweet tea vodka, ma'am?"

"Dude, I am not old enough to be 'ma'am. And I don't have any of that Firefly or Jeremiah Weed that everybody's drinking these days, but I can make you up something with some real fresh-brewed sweet tea."

"You've got sweet tea behind your bar?"

"You're obviously not from here."

He laughs. "Guilty as charged. So how about some of that sweet tea with some vodka in it?"

"I can do that," I say, "or I can give it to you like I drink it, with Maker's Mark."

"I'll trust somebody from the land of sweet tea," he says.

"Damn right," I tell him, and I mix him up a sweet tea with Maker's Mark.

Me/Sam - appreciative latte-foam cuddles

[roque-clasique.livejournal.com]

Sam comes into the stupid uptight coffee shop with the burgundy and gold furniture where I used to work this fall, and I make the most spectacular vanilla soy latte he's ever had -- foam like velvet, I swear. Cuddles happen.

Re: Me/Sam - appreciative latte-foam cuddles

[ratherastory.livejournal.com]

I need to live inside your head. No joke. You obviously smoke the best shit ever. \o/

Also I am Making Shit Up™ about your workplace.

*

A barista's work is never done, but sometimes there are slow days, and that's the day he comes in, complete with laptop and kicked-puppy expression. He orders a vanilla soy latte, stands there fidgeting until I offer to bring it to him when I'm done.

I watch surreptitiously as he folds himself into one of the plush burgundy and gold chairs the boss insisted we get so the four and a half clients who can actually sit at one time here will be comfortable. Except, of course, they're designed for normal people, and he's taller even than me by a few inches, and I'm really pretty tall. He doesn't really fit with the decor, dressed in ratty jeans and too many layers, but he doesn't seem to notice the stares he's getting from the yuppie regulars. Or maybe he doesn't care.

I foam the milk first, because that's the secret to an awesome soy latte. Tap the bottom of the jug, until I know just from the feel that it's exactly right. While the milk settles I grind the beans, pour the vanilla syrup into the thick glass, just enough to cover the bottom —I'm guessing he doesn't like his overly sweet, by the looks of it— then pour the newly-made espresso into a tulip cup (double-shot, naturally). Double-shot goes on top of the vanilla, and over the years I have turned the pouring of frothed soy milk into highly complex performance art. I even manage a heart on top of the coffee.

He's tapping listlessly at keys of his laptop when I get there, latte and extra biscotti in hand, and I catch sight of an internet page opened to something with shadows and flame before he shoves it aside, looks up at me with big hazel eyes. He looks as though he expects me to spit in his latte. So I smile instead.

"On the house."

He starts. "Uh, sorry?"

I give a half-shrug, and put down the drink. "You look like you're having a shitty day."

"Thanks." He takes an experimental sip of the latte, almost timid, and the smile I get back after that is like watching the sun come out from behind the clouds. Goddamned blinding. "This is really good."

I blush a bit, which, you know weird. 'Cause barista's are meant to be unflappable. "I wield a mean steamer."

"No, really. It's like... I don't know, velvet or something," he insists.

He's choking up, of all things, eyes bright, and damn if there isn't a lump in my throat too, now, because how shitty does his life have to be that someone giving him a free (really awesome) latte is, like, the highlight of his year? The next thing I know the latte is forgotten on the table and he's on his feet, goddamned looming over me, and then I'm being enveloped in the most diffident hug in history, as if he's waiting for me to kick him in the nuts now he's vulnerable.

So I hug him back, and he tightens his hold, and it's a bit like being held by a really gentle bear, except his arms are really long. My cheek ends up somewhere near his collarbone, one hand at the small of his back, one rubbing between his shoulder blades, and it's nice and warm and he smells good, like leather and a hint of aftershave and something tangy I can't identify.

I don't know how long we spend like that, but eventually the spell breaks, and he pulls away, and I get another one of those smiles that makes me fear for my retinas.

"Seriously," he says, "thank you."

Me/Castiel - I find God cuddles

[roque-clasique.livejournal.com]

I find God for Castiel and send Him first-class super-fast-delivery UPS, which is really pretty freakin' expensive. I even include a note on rosemary-scented stationary my hippie-dippie roommate made out of newspaper. I get totally cuddled.

Re: Me/Castiel - I find God cuddles

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

WHAT THE, WHAT ARE YOU EVEN ON. Pass that shit.


I even pack God with a pack of raisins in case He gets hungry, and then I wonder to myself, "Does God like raisins?" God's supposed to love everything, though. Except for the things He smites, I guess. Well, if God smites those raisins, then He's on his own as far as travel snacks are concerned.

Anyway, then I'm like, "You okay? You got enough room in there?" and God gives the thumbs-up, so I tape the mother in, and then I give Cas a call.

+

You know, for a second there after the phone call, I expect to turn around and almost run into him, freshly teleported in from wherever. That's how it used to be. I'd go ARGH and he'd go, "Hello," and once I got over my initial heart attack, we'd deal with the situation in what I like to think of as the most expedient way possible. For a second there, I was expecting this.

Well, no dice.

Package is sent, Cas is human, the apocalypse marches ever onward, lots of fuckers gonna die, and I found five dollars. One of these things is a lie.

+

So, I'm on the phone lying to my work about how sick I am, but whatcha gonna do, it's the end of the world. Live large! I'm calling in sick, and then going with friends to eat at that Ethiopian place I've always wanted to check out. So like, I'm making sore throat noises idling in front of the fridge trying to decide if I want milk or orange juice -- hmmmmmm, orange juice -- and then I turn around an BADA BING BADA BOOM Cas in my face.

I'm like, "ARGH," and he's all, "Hello."

He mojos the juice puddle clean.

Which is weird. Because, "Uh. Wait, I thought you said you can't do that anymore..."

"You recall you Fedexed God to me," he says. "He restored my grace."

"Oh hey. Good for you!"

"He has a message for you," Cas intones. "We both do. A message of thanks."

"Yeah?"

BADA BING BADA BOOM Cas hug. Shocking, you know, but not unwelcome.

And I'm like, "You guys really like the rosemary-scented stationary, huh?"

"It was nice," Cas concedes.

I hug him back.

Me/Jo - matching-haircut cuddles

[roque-clasique.livejournal.com]

Jo and I get totally bangin' matching haircuts (she's not dead) and then she sits on my lap.

Re: Me/Jo - matching-haircut cuddles - DON'T EVEN ASK.

[22by7.livejournal.com]

I think the Ong Bak sequel sucks royally. She thinks maybe I should show off my ninja moves since I clearly think I'm better. This is fucking annoying, maybe a little more annoying than when people pull that 'if you hate the movie so much why don't you make your own'.

I've made a couple documentary shorts, but the closest I ever came to karate was when I accidentally managed to kick a vampire in the nads three days before a job interview out of town.

Of course, that was how I met Jo Harvelle, so I have kind of a skewed perspective on the whole thing now.

Next thing you know we're hanging out at her mom's bar - and Ellen is one incredibly cool woman - and, fuck yeah, flirting.

Did I mention the bit about how apparently the Apocalypse happened, only it got averted? Or the bit about how vampires really aren't sparkly? Or even old-man-creepy-hot like Lance Henriksen in Near Dark.

Well, since then it's been a... learning experience. The Harvelles kind of took to me, I guess, or at least Jo did, because we hang out sometimes. She's taken it on me to teach me the basics - the salt stuff, and she says I'm lucky demons are so rare now because that shit is a whole different level. Still, who'd've thunk it, I get to brush up on my ancient languages. And I may have failed high school French, but I can cobble together some decent Latin.

Although it's not just verbs we're conjugating here, if you catch my drift.

Somehow she ends up convincing me to get a haircut. Saying if I do, she'll get one, too. I don't know if you've seen Jo Harvelle, but she has fucking gorgeous hair, all long, golden, totally impractical curls. And me, the last time I got my hair cut or styled or just dealt with, that was in '09. Five years back, pre-Apoc. That is crazy, right?

It's not as traumatic as I thought it'd be, and it gets me free shots after closing time, huddled over the counter with her ass wriggling on the barstool like she just can't get comfortable. I'm too drunk to wonder what the hell she sees in me, too buzzed to worry that this isn't gonna last. I rub my palm over her head; the curls're still there, but now she's working some kind of silent film goddess hair that is entirely at odds with her too-lively expression, her big teeth that get me all excited.

"Mom and I, we got a job. Nothing major, I think. Couple states over." I smooth my hand over her shoulder, down the strong line of her bicep. I wish I could say I wasn't expecting this.

"Okay, you go do that thing you do, you big damn hero," I tell her. Between my retail job and my other retail job the filmmaking is kind of on the shelf, and I'm weirdly okay with that; the last couple years have been weird in this country.

Jo leans forward, sidling off her own stool until she's basically sitting on my lap. "Aren't I just?" And fuck. I think I'm about to get lucky after all.

Sam/Gabriel - Comfort cuddles

[hils.livejournal.com]

Gabriel comes back from the dead and Sam doesn't ever want to let him go

Coming Home - Part One

[ladyeternal.livejournal.com]

Music: One Last Breath – Creed (http://lyrics.wikia.com/Gracenote:Creed:One_Last_Breath)

The only rooms the motel had were two singles. Sometimes Sam was really grateful for the opportunity to be alone: Dean wasn’t eating disgusting things on his bed just to annoy him or busting his chops for using shampoo that didn’t come from the dollar store. It was quiet enough that he could surf the Internet as long as he wanted, watch whatever he wanted on television. He didn’t have to worry about Cas popping in if he needed to do a little… maintenance… because Cas never popped in unless Dean was there.

But on nights like tonight, the computer sat unused in its bag on the floor, charging, and Sam was lying in bed after a long hot shower, staring at the ceiling with nothing but thoughts rattling around in his mind.

A candy bar wrapper, casually tossed in the corner of the bathroom. Probably had been lying there for a while, unnoticed by whatever less-than-minimum-wage maid service was working under the table in a place like this. Sam had picked it up after pulling on one of the latex gloves he and Dean kept with them for examining crime scenes, then thrown it in the garbage can under the sink.

He’d been thinking ever since. About Gabriel.

In the aftermath of Mystery Spot, Sam would never have believed that he’d ever be able to honestly say he missed the Trickster. Finding out that the Trickster was Gabriel, ArchHerald of the Lord, had been more than a little startling to Sam. More startling was the way the Trickster was such a thin veil, barely concealing what Gabriel really was… what he was feeling. If Dean had just shut up for five minutes, had just let him talk to Gabriel back there in Wellington…

And then at Motel Hell. Once again, Dean had gotten in the way, controlling the conversations and baiting Gabriel… and not letting Sam go back for him. Lucifer wouldn’t have hurt his vessel; Sam was convinced of that. If he’d gone back for Gabriel… maybe Gabriel wouldn’t have died.

One more body in the graveyard in Sam’s heart. More blood on his hands for letting Lucifer out of his cage to begin with.

“Actually, there wasn’t any… blood, that is.”

Sam sat up so fast his head spun, scanning the room before his vision cleared. Gabriel was sitting at the end of the bed, not looking at him. Something about him seemed as quiet as Sam felt, indrawn and tired. “Gabriel?”

The archangel turned, wearing a crooked, mischievous smile that didn’t quite make it to his butterscotch eyes. “Hey, Sam. Nice to see you again.”

Without thinking about it, Sam scrambled across the bed and unceremoniously hugged the trickster angel that had once killed his brother more than a hundred times. “You’re back… how? God or… or was it Kali? She still had your blood…?”

“I don’t… really want to talk about it, Sammy,” Gabriel replied, “if it’s all the same to you. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant trip back.”

Instinctively, Sam tightened the hug, hauling Gabriel closer. Gabriel let out a soft breath and turned into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Sam and tucking his head into the hollow of Sam’s shoulder. He seemed comforted by the warmth of Sam’s body and the steady drum of Sam’s heart, and Sam was inching them back across the bed and curling down into the sheets with Gabriel without stopping to consider that Gabriel might not want to snuggle like a pair of lovers in a nest.

Or that he was naked to the waist. Or that Gabriel smelled like a brace of lilies and ripe strawberries in the summer afternoon sun. Sam didn’t want to think about any of that. He just wanted to draw in that scent, a fragrance he’d only caught traces of before now. He wanted to feel Gabriel’s warmer-than-human flesh beneath his hands and sleep in a tangle of limbs with a creature so old he remembered the faces of the first humans created by God.

“They were ordinary,” Gabriel said, obviously having read Sam’s mind. “At least to us. They were beautiful; all humans are, in their own ways; but they were rather ordinary. Adam’s eyes were blue as the summer sky, and Eve’s were green as new grass in the spring…”

Dean/Castiel - Awkward cuddles

[hils.livejournal.com]

Castiel is depressed about being human and Dean wants to offer comforting cuddles but it embarassed. They get there in the end though