Try It Before You Buy It
Feb. 21st, 2016 01:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dime_lioraTitle: Try It Before You Buy It
Author: dimeliora
Wordcount: 2,559
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Wincest
Prompt(s): Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
smpc
Summary: Sam killed Dean's mattress, but at least he was nice enough to go shopping for a new one.
Sam claims that it was an accident.
He claims it.
One of the many things that Sam has never outgrown is his weird habit of picking up a hobby and becoming obsessed with it. When he was younger they were slightly less destructive than this one, but they always start the same way.
Dean always comes out to find Sam reading a book. Something fictional. Deep. Beyond Dean’s interests. Sam will be eating, or laying on his back with the book dangling over his face, or slumped sideways in a chair. He’ll talk to Dean without looking up from the pages. He’ll say something simple and pointless like, “Can you believe that it only takes a month to learn an overhand jog shuffle?”
And Dean will try not to. He’ll tell himself not to. He’ll fight and claw against his own instincts just so that he won’t.
And then he’ll ask anyway.
“What’s an overhand jog shuffle Sam?”
Sam will respond. For hours. And then Dean will want him to stop. And after a week Sam will start not just talking about the stupid thing he read about, he’ll be doing it. And then Dean has to deal with that being the most important thing in Sam’s life, his primary concern, for what seems like forever.
Eventually Sam will get sick of whatever he’s doing, and then Dean can relax and move on to bigger and better things than watching Sam obsess. The only time he’s been wrong about spotting this trend so far was law school.
That one is still listed in his biggest mistakes.
So when Dean came downstairs and Sam said “Did you know there were 10,000 deaths from asbestos last year?” Dean should have grabbed the book out of Sam’s hand and ran with it.
He should have and he didn’t.
Then two days ago he comes back to the bunker to find Sam wearing a jumpsuit and a respirator and digging around in the vents above Dean’s bed. And he thought to himself that it was probably ok. Sam had looked into it. His brother knew what he was doing.
And then Sam hit something, something Dean couldn’t see and Sam must have missed, and a ton of ash and bone chunks dumped out around Sam all over Dean’s bed.
Later Sam suggested that maybe it was a cremation room they hadn’t found. Something they didn’t see on the plans. He tries to put a positive spin on it. Suggests that this is a good thing because now they know it’s there. Now they can utilize it. And what if there was something hanging around it? Waiting for them to lower their guard?
Dean does not buy it.
Sam tried to clean it all up, but the smell of charred bone lingered on the mattress in a way that kept Dean awake at night. Sam couldn’t stand it either, couldn’t even fake it, and they just moved permanently to Sam’s bed. Which is much less comfortable.
Now here they are, in Savannah, Georgia, and Dean’s back is killing him. He would never admit it to Sam but he’s gotten used to the long stretches with the memory foam.
He’s become pampered.
Sam notices though, because Sam always does, and Dean takes the concerned looks and soft touches with as much dignity as he can. Because underneath Sam’s concern his brother is mocking him.
Dean can smell it.
They’ve put the Black Dog down, saved a very large number of wandering tourists, and eaten about sixty pounds of pulled pork between them. Dean could not feel any more victorious.
Savannah is gorgeous, but Dean’s seen a lot of historical towns and he knows that they’re always pretty on the outside and rotten on the inside. Old money breeds old assholes.
Dean’s not really paying attention to where they’re going. He doesn’t have to be on high alert anymore and he doesn’t have to look for the worst in everything. Not right now anyway.
Maybe that’s a part of the being pampered. Dean didn’t used to lower his guard so much. He was always prepared for battle. And in the old days Dean would use this as proof that he was on his last legs. That getting sloppy and relaxed like this is asking to be killed by something.
“Didn’t you say once that we taught dogs to be dogs?”
Sam stops walking. His head tilts and his lips curl a little.
“You mean domesticated? We domesticated them?”
“Yeah. Domesticated them.”
“Well. I mean yeah we did. Years of breeding them to be more useful, training them to be dependent on us, and we ended up with dogs instead of wolves. Why?”
“You think that was bad for them? To go from being wild and roaming to controlled and soft?”
Sam sucks his lower lip in for a second and then releases it along with a deep sigh.
“I don’t think it necessarily was. I mean it makes it harder for them to take care of themselves in the wild, but if you haven’t noticed the majority of dogs are able to protect themselves and their owners against exterior threats. Other than guns. They’re not completely disconnected from their wild side.”
Dean feels himself nodding, and then Sam is taking his hand.
“Hey Dean? Look. A mattress store.”
Dean does look. He stares at it for a long moment before turning back to Sam.
“Yeah. A closed mattress store. So what?”
“You need a new mattress don’t you?”
Mentally Dean checks off which fake cards he has on him. What sort of money they actually have access too.
“Yeah. I guess we could come back tomorrow.”
Sam shakes his head and then he’s in motion and pulling Dean along. Dean lets himself be pulled all the way to the backside of the strip mall where Sam kneels in front of the back door of the store and starts picking the lock.
Dean watches, unable to help the swell of pride, and then Sam is pulling the door open and they’re slipping inside. A quiet voice in the back of Dean’s head reminds him that they’re very fucking lucky an alarm didn’t go off.
“Pick a mattress Dean. Any mattress.”
He looks around the darkened store, then back to Sam, then back again. It’s weird to see Sam like this. He and his brother were both raised in an environment of lawlessness. Or, to be more specific, laws that benefitted them and the mission. It was alright to steal, to commit fraud, to break and enter. Sam created his own moral code within that world. Sam introduced law and order within their family unit. He gave it weight and meaning when he was taught not to.
And now he’s advocating Dean stealing a mattress in the middle of the night.
Maybe it’s stupid, maybe it’s childish, but Dean can’t stand the idea of Sam being a bigger rogue than him.
“You don’t just pick a mattress Sammy. You test them.”
Sam’s eyebrow arches up. He opens his mouth but Dean grabs his brother’s hips and tosses him onto the nearest memory foam mattress.
And Dean is crazy pleased that instead of arguing that there’s a display window not too far away, or that they’re asking to get caught, or anything else he expects his little brother starts stripping and dropping clothes over the side of the mattress.
He drops his own clothes quickly, tripping a bit over his pants in his haste, and then falling onto the mattress next to Sam. There’s just the right dip, the sensation of being hugged by the foam, and then Dean rolls over on top of Sam and tilts his brother’s chin up to kiss him.
Sam, and Dean will never tell him this, is the better kisser. There’s a lot of things Dean is better at through both inherent skill and experience, but Sam has always been the better kisser. It’s that same drive that makes Sam do dumb shit like dig for asbestos. It pushes him to apply technique and skill, to obsess on approach, to plan the perfect experience and then carry it out.
As a result even though Dean usually takes the lead in bed Sam is always in control of the kiss. Dean’s the one that moves Sam’s head, makes the first connection of lips, but it’s Sam who increases the pressure. Sam tilts his head a little more, opens his mouth, presses his tongue against Dean’s lips.
He lets him too. He lets Sam get the upper hand for this. His brother’s body is long and tight, muscles shifting under smooth skin, and Dean drives his hips down to rub his hard cock along Sam’s stomach. To feel the wiry hair that trails down to Sam’s groin. The head catches just slightly on the rim of Sam’s belly button and Dean shifts just a bit more searching for the right spot. Sam is licking the inside of his mouth, moving underneath Dean and seeking more friction, and Dean manages to line them up so that his cock is pressing against Sam’s.
Sam scrapes his teeth against Dean’s lower lip and Dean moans as he finds the right angle to push his hips in so that their cocks rub together. The overly sensitive head of Dean’s cock drags up the length of Sam’s shaft, catches on the flared head of Sam’s dick, and then slides off into the air giving Dean nothing but a tease. It’s a challenge to get it lined up correctly. To keep skin pressed to skin. But eventually Dean gets it just right and the pre-come leaking from him aids in the slip and slide of their cocks against each other. Dean keeps it going, picking up the pace so that he’s getting constant pressure and pleasure. His toes curl into the mattress and he digs his hands in on either side of Sam’s head as they rub against each other.
Sam’s moaning into his mouth, tongue slipping against Dean’s teeth and losing focus as he pushes up again and again to speed up the pace of their rubbing. Sam’s so hard and hot against him, and Dean pulls back just enough to talk against Sam’s mouth.
“Hold us together. Grip tight.”
Dean shifts his weight carefully, taking a deep breath when Sam’s hand grips the two of them and there’s a particularly tight pull on his cock and full contact from base to head, and then slips the fingers of his right hand into Sam’s mouth. Sam takes them graciously, without question, and laps at the pads as they keep pumping their hips and building up the pressure between them.
Pull and drag, Dean’s starting to feel a little overwhelmed at the silky sensation of Sam’s cock and the rough feeling of Sam’s palm. He slips his wet fingers out of Sam’s mouth and reaches behind himself, allowing Sam to put his free hand on Dean’s hip to help stabilize him. It also allows Sam to control the pace more, and Dean bucks into Sam’s hand and against Sam’s cock as he slips two of his fingers into himself and starts working.
Dean doesn’t bottom as often as Sam does. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy it, or that he doesn’t think that Sam should be on top, it’s that Dean gets more aggressive than Sam at times. That he pushes faster and harder and Sam gets caught up on the defensive. They just fall into it. It’s the way they’ve always been. Falling into step with one another without asking questions of themselves or each other.
But now Dean is stretching around his own fingers, thrusting into Sam’s as he glides against his brother’s heated skin, struggling for balance and control as the muscles in his arm and thighs shake viciously.
And then it’s time. If Dean rubs any harder against Sam he’s either going to come or start a fire. He slips out of Sam’s hand, pushes himself up onto his knees, and then grabs Sam’s wrist. Sam fights a little, a smile on his face, but Dean plans on wiping that off in just a second. He presses Sam’s hand into the mattress above Sam’s head, feels the give of the foam, and then he pushes up and uses his free hand to line Sam up before sliding down Sam’s dick.
Dean exhales on his way down, Sam filling him up and spreading him out, and just as he predicted Sam’s smile slips off and his face becomes needy and desperate. Dean loves that look. He keeps Sam’s hand pinned, leans over to kiss his little brother, and then starts to move.
“Jerk me off.”
Sam obeys, his face intense and sure as he watches the expression on Dean’s. And Dean? He can’t help the smile that comes from that. From the power of knowing that Sam is totally under him, giving him this, and Dean can just take it. He keeps Sam’s left hand pinned tight, watches it curl into a tight fist, and leans in to nip Sam’s chin before going back to riding Sam.
His brother is jacking him off fast and hard, speed matching the desperation on his face, and Dean picks up the pace because they need to get there.
And he can tell Sam is close. That any second now his brother is going to give. Sam’s right hand is shaking on Dean’s dick, his left hand squeezing on air, and Dean can see how the muscles in Sam’s stomach jump as his brother approaches orgasm.
Dean loves this look. The way that Sam’s skin flushes, his chest hitches hard, how his eyes widen and intensify. He watches it closely as Sam’s hips jump under him and Dean slams down hard to catch all of Sam inside himself as Sam starts to orgasm. He rides it out, watching Sam go lax and fluid under him, feeling the heat inside of himself, and then Dean slides off and collapses next to Sam.
He expects to let Sam finish himself off, but instead his brother jackknifes his body and rolls into position to swallow Dean’s hard cock in one gulp. Dean threads his fingers into Sam’s hair and holds his brother’s head in place as he pushes down into the memory foam to free some of his dick before pushing back into Sam’s hot mouth.
Sam’s smiling around Dean’s dick, eyes on Dean’s face, and he keeps himself still so Dean can properly fuck his mouth until he comes too, Sam drinking him down deep.
Once he’s soft Sam slips his lips off and lays down beside him. They sink into the mattress together.
“Yeah. I want this one. It’s the right one.”
Sam laughs, deep and husky, a smile on his face like the cat who ate the cream.
“Alright. This is the one then.”
Dean feels like he could slip into a deep sleep if he let himself. The store is set at a great temperature and the mattress is soft and supple.
And then Sam ruins it. As Sam so often does.
“Wait. How are we going to get this back to Kansas?”
Dean makes a mental note to find a close mattress store and “borrow” a truck.
“Shut up Sammy.”
Author: dimeliora
Wordcount: 2,559
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Wincest
Prompt(s): Written for the
smpc Summary: Sam killed Dean's mattress, but at least he was nice enough to go shopping for a new one.
Sam claims that it was an accident.
He claims it.
One of the many things that Sam has never outgrown is his weird habit of picking up a hobby and becoming obsessed with it. When he was younger they were slightly less destructive than this one, but they always start the same way.
Dean always comes out to find Sam reading a book. Something fictional. Deep. Beyond Dean’s interests. Sam will be eating, or laying on his back with the book dangling over his face, or slumped sideways in a chair. He’ll talk to Dean without looking up from the pages. He’ll say something simple and pointless like, “Can you believe that it only takes a month to learn an overhand jog shuffle?”
And Dean will try not to. He’ll tell himself not to. He’ll fight and claw against his own instincts just so that he won’t.
And then he’ll ask anyway.
“What’s an overhand jog shuffle Sam?”
Sam will respond. For hours. And then Dean will want him to stop. And after a week Sam will start not just talking about the stupid thing he read about, he’ll be doing it. And then Dean has to deal with that being the most important thing in Sam’s life, his primary concern, for what seems like forever.
Eventually Sam will get sick of whatever he’s doing, and then Dean can relax and move on to bigger and better things than watching Sam obsess. The only time he’s been wrong about spotting this trend so far was law school.
That one is still listed in his biggest mistakes.
So when Dean came downstairs and Sam said “Did you know there were 10,000 deaths from asbestos last year?” Dean should have grabbed the book out of Sam’s hand and ran with it.
He should have and he didn’t.
Then two days ago he comes back to the bunker to find Sam wearing a jumpsuit and a respirator and digging around in the vents above Dean’s bed. And he thought to himself that it was probably ok. Sam had looked into it. His brother knew what he was doing.
And then Sam hit something, something Dean couldn’t see and Sam must have missed, and a ton of ash and bone chunks dumped out around Sam all over Dean’s bed.
Later Sam suggested that maybe it was a cremation room they hadn’t found. Something they didn’t see on the plans. He tries to put a positive spin on it. Suggests that this is a good thing because now they know it’s there. Now they can utilize it. And what if there was something hanging around it? Waiting for them to lower their guard?
Dean does not buy it.
Sam tried to clean it all up, but the smell of charred bone lingered on the mattress in a way that kept Dean awake at night. Sam couldn’t stand it either, couldn’t even fake it, and they just moved permanently to Sam’s bed. Which is much less comfortable.
Now here they are, in Savannah, Georgia, and Dean’s back is killing him. He would never admit it to Sam but he’s gotten used to the long stretches with the memory foam.
He’s become pampered.
Sam notices though, because Sam always does, and Dean takes the concerned looks and soft touches with as much dignity as he can. Because underneath Sam’s concern his brother is mocking him.
Dean can smell it.
They’ve put the Black Dog down, saved a very large number of wandering tourists, and eaten about sixty pounds of pulled pork between them. Dean could not feel any more victorious.
Savannah is gorgeous, but Dean’s seen a lot of historical towns and he knows that they’re always pretty on the outside and rotten on the inside. Old money breeds old assholes.
Dean’s not really paying attention to where they’re going. He doesn’t have to be on high alert anymore and he doesn’t have to look for the worst in everything. Not right now anyway.
Maybe that’s a part of the being pampered. Dean didn’t used to lower his guard so much. He was always prepared for battle. And in the old days Dean would use this as proof that he was on his last legs. That getting sloppy and relaxed like this is asking to be killed by something.
“Didn’t you say once that we taught dogs to be dogs?”
Sam stops walking. His head tilts and his lips curl a little.
“You mean domesticated? We domesticated them?”
“Yeah. Domesticated them.”
“Well. I mean yeah we did. Years of breeding them to be more useful, training them to be dependent on us, and we ended up with dogs instead of wolves. Why?”
“You think that was bad for them? To go from being wild and roaming to controlled and soft?”
Sam sucks his lower lip in for a second and then releases it along with a deep sigh.
“I don’t think it necessarily was. I mean it makes it harder for them to take care of themselves in the wild, but if you haven’t noticed the majority of dogs are able to protect themselves and their owners against exterior threats. Other than guns. They’re not completely disconnected from their wild side.”
Dean feels himself nodding, and then Sam is taking his hand.
“Hey Dean? Look. A mattress store.”
Dean does look. He stares at it for a long moment before turning back to Sam.
“Yeah. A closed mattress store. So what?”
“You need a new mattress don’t you?”
Mentally Dean checks off which fake cards he has on him. What sort of money they actually have access too.
“Yeah. I guess we could come back tomorrow.”
Sam shakes his head and then he’s in motion and pulling Dean along. Dean lets himself be pulled all the way to the backside of the strip mall where Sam kneels in front of the back door of the store and starts picking the lock.
Dean watches, unable to help the swell of pride, and then Sam is pulling the door open and they’re slipping inside. A quiet voice in the back of Dean’s head reminds him that they’re very fucking lucky an alarm didn’t go off.
“Pick a mattress Dean. Any mattress.”
He looks around the darkened store, then back to Sam, then back again. It’s weird to see Sam like this. He and his brother were both raised in an environment of lawlessness. Or, to be more specific, laws that benefitted them and the mission. It was alright to steal, to commit fraud, to break and enter. Sam created his own moral code within that world. Sam introduced law and order within their family unit. He gave it weight and meaning when he was taught not to.
And now he’s advocating Dean stealing a mattress in the middle of the night.
Maybe it’s stupid, maybe it’s childish, but Dean can’t stand the idea of Sam being a bigger rogue than him.
“You don’t just pick a mattress Sammy. You test them.”
Sam’s eyebrow arches up. He opens his mouth but Dean grabs his brother’s hips and tosses him onto the nearest memory foam mattress.
And Dean is crazy pleased that instead of arguing that there’s a display window not too far away, or that they’re asking to get caught, or anything else he expects his little brother starts stripping and dropping clothes over the side of the mattress.
He drops his own clothes quickly, tripping a bit over his pants in his haste, and then falling onto the mattress next to Sam. There’s just the right dip, the sensation of being hugged by the foam, and then Dean rolls over on top of Sam and tilts his brother’s chin up to kiss him.
Sam, and Dean will never tell him this, is the better kisser. There’s a lot of things Dean is better at through both inherent skill and experience, but Sam has always been the better kisser. It’s that same drive that makes Sam do dumb shit like dig for asbestos. It pushes him to apply technique and skill, to obsess on approach, to plan the perfect experience and then carry it out.
As a result even though Dean usually takes the lead in bed Sam is always in control of the kiss. Dean’s the one that moves Sam’s head, makes the first connection of lips, but it’s Sam who increases the pressure. Sam tilts his head a little more, opens his mouth, presses his tongue against Dean’s lips.
He lets him too. He lets Sam get the upper hand for this. His brother’s body is long and tight, muscles shifting under smooth skin, and Dean drives his hips down to rub his hard cock along Sam’s stomach. To feel the wiry hair that trails down to Sam’s groin. The head catches just slightly on the rim of Sam’s belly button and Dean shifts just a bit more searching for the right spot. Sam is licking the inside of his mouth, moving underneath Dean and seeking more friction, and Dean manages to line them up so that his cock is pressing against Sam’s.
Sam scrapes his teeth against Dean’s lower lip and Dean moans as he finds the right angle to push his hips in so that their cocks rub together. The overly sensitive head of Dean’s cock drags up the length of Sam’s shaft, catches on the flared head of Sam’s dick, and then slides off into the air giving Dean nothing but a tease. It’s a challenge to get it lined up correctly. To keep skin pressed to skin. But eventually Dean gets it just right and the pre-come leaking from him aids in the slip and slide of their cocks against each other. Dean keeps it going, picking up the pace so that he’s getting constant pressure and pleasure. His toes curl into the mattress and he digs his hands in on either side of Sam’s head as they rub against each other.
Sam’s moaning into his mouth, tongue slipping against Dean’s teeth and losing focus as he pushes up again and again to speed up the pace of their rubbing. Sam’s so hard and hot against him, and Dean pulls back just enough to talk against Sam’s mouth.
“Hold us together. Grip tight.”
Dean shifts his weight carefully, taking a deep breath when Sam’s hand grips the two of them and there’s a particularly tight pull on his cock and full contact from base to head, and then slips the fingers of his right hand into Sam’s mouth. Sam takes them graciously, without question, and laps at the pads as they keep pumping their hips and building up the pressure between them.
Pull and drag, Dean’s starting to feel a little overwhelmed at the silky sensation of Sam’s cock and the rough feeling of Sam’s palm. He slips his wet fingers out of Sam’s mouth and reaches behind himself, allowing Sam to put his free hand on Dean’s hip to help stabilize him. It also allows Sam to control the pace more, and Dean bucks into Sam’s hand and against Sam’s cock as he slips two of his fingers into himself and starts working.
Dean doesn’t bottom as often as Sam does. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy it, or that he doesn’t think that Sam should be on top, it’s that Dean gets more aggressive than Sam at times. That he pushes faster and harder and Sam gets caught up on the defensive. They just fall into it. It’s the way they’ve always been. Falling into step with one another without asking questions of themselves or each other.
But now Dean is stretching around his own fingers, thrusting into Sam’s as he glides against his brother’s heated skin, struggling for balance and control as the muscles in his arm and thighs shake viciously.
And then it’s time. If Dean rubs any harder against Sam he’s either going to come or start a fire. He slips out of Sam’s hand, pushes himself up onto his knees, and then grabs Sam’s wrist. Sam fights a little, a smile on his face, but Dean plans on wiping that off in just a second. He presses Sam’s hand into the mattress above Sam’s head, feels the give of the foam, and then he pushes up and uses his free hand to line Sam up before sliding down Sam’s dick.
Dean exhales on his way down, Sam filling him up and spreading him out, and just as he predicted Sam’s smile slips off and his face becomes needy and desperate. Dean loves that look. He keeps Sam’s hand pinned, leans over to kiss his little brother, and then starts to move.
“Jerk me off.”
Sam obeys, his face intense and sure as he watches the expression on Dean’s. And Dean? He can’t help the smile that comes from that. From the power of knowing that Sam is totally under him, giving him this, and Dean can just take it. He keeps Sam’s left hand pinned tight, watches it curl into a tight fist, and leans in to nip Sam’s chin before going back to riding Sam.
His brother is jacking him off fast and hard, speed matching the desperation on his face, and Dean picks up the pace because they need to get there.
And he can tell Sam is close. That any second now his brother is going to give. Sam’s right hand is shaking on Dean’s dick, his left hand squeezing on air, and Dean can see how the muscles in Sam’s stomach jump as his brother approaches orgasm.
Dean loves this look. The way that Sam’s skin flushes, his chest hitches hard, how his eyes widen and intensify. He watches it closely as Sam’s hips jump under him and Dean slams down hard to catch all of Sam inside himself as Sam starts to orgasm. He rides it out, watching Sam go lax and fluid under him, feeling the heat inside of himself, and then Dean slides off and collapses next to Sam.
He expects to let Sam finish himself off, but instead his brother jackknifes his body and rolls into position to swallow Dean’s hard cock in one gulp. Dean threads his fingers into Sam’s hair and holds his brother’s head in place as he pushes down into the memory foam to free some of his dick before pushing back into Sam’s hot mouth.
Sam’s smiling around Dean’s dick, eyes on Dean’s face, and he keeps himself still so Dean can properly fuck his mouth until he comes too, Sam drinking him down deep.
Once he’s soft Sam slips his lips off and lays down beside him. They sink into the mattress together.
“Yeah. I want this one. It’s the right one.”
Sam laughs, deep and husky, a smile on his face like the cat who ate the cream.
“Alright. This is the one then.”
Dean feels like he could slip into a deep sleep if he let himself. The store is set at a great temperature and the mattress is soft and supple.
And then Sam ruins it. As Sam so often does.
“Wait. How are we going to get this back to Kansas?”
Dean makes a mental note to find a close mattress store and “borrow” a truck.
“Shut up Sammy.”
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Try It Before You Buy It
Date: 2016-02-21 06:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-21 06:47 am (UTC)Hot!
♡
no subject
Date: 2016-07-23 12:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-21 06:55 am (UTC)fun and sexy story, with awesome art :)
no subject
Date: 2016-07-23 12:47 am (UTC)Andy did an amaaaaazing job with this one! Then again she always does. Thank you again and I'm sorry it took so long to reply!!
no subject
Date: 2016-02-21 12:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-23 12:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-21 01:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-23 12:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-21 03:01 pm (UTC)Hey guys! I need a new mattress too...help a girl out?
no subject
Date: 2016-07-23 12:54 am (UTC)Glad you liked it and thank you for commenting! I'm sorry it took so long to reply!!
no subject
Date: 2016-02-21 05:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-23 12:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-21 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-23 12:55 am (UTC)Edition 3,449
Date: 2016-02-21 11:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-22 12:30 am (UTC)I had to laugh at Sam's hobby compulsiveness. My word, I don't know anyone like that...*koff hides face*
And then Sam ruins it. As Sam so often does.
“Wait. How are we going to get this back to Kansas?”
LOL!!!!
no subject
Date: 2016-07-23 12:57 am (UTC)I'm so glad you liked it Roxy, and like always thank you so much for commenting and reading and I'm sorry it took so long to reply!!
no subject
Date: 2016-02-22 06:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-07-23 12:58 am (UTC)