#writingtag

Cas has forgotten his phone on a case approximately eleven times. Apparently Dean has never told this to Sam. Suddenly, leaving his phone behind so much seems less embarrassing and more of a wonderful secret that he and Dean share. He looks at Dean, but his face is steady and he’s still facing Sam. 

“And you just didn’t tell him you locked him out of his own phone?”

“I literally set it an hour ago,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t think he’d notice!”

It’s possible Sam doesn’t know about Dean and Cas’ routine of sitting together and eating breakfast, Dean scrolling his phone for cases and Cas scrolling through wedding inspiration on Pinterest, but that seems impossible, for this time is as holy as church. He squints at Sam. 

“So what is the password?” he asks. 

“I just made it 123456,” Sam says, raising his hands defensively. “But you should change it to something else.” 

Dean rounds on Cas, eyebrow raised. “And you didn’t guess that?”

“How would I know to guess that?” He had mainly guessed things like 888888 or 333333. 

“Ugh,” Dean says, dropping his fork onto his eggs. “Ok, Steve Jobs, put in your new password and I’ll help you get set up.”

Cas enters the password. Sam rattles around in the pantry. Dean leans across the table. Cas tilts his phone toward him. 

“Go to Settings,” Dean instructs, pointing at the gray gears in the top corner of Cas’ phone screen. Cas taps it and follows Dean’s directions into the “passcode” section. He has to enter Sam’s absurd password one more time to change it.

“What should I change it to?” he asks. 

“I dunno,” Dean says. “A lot of people use a date or something.”

“Is yours?” Cas knows Dean’s password, of course, but he thought it was a random string of numbers that had come with his phone. Why he thought his phone didn’t come with one while Dean’s did he doesn’t know, but it was easier without a password and so it never bothered him. 

“Yeah,” Dean says. Cas tilts his head. 

“Why October 22, ‘69?” he asks. Dean grins. Sam groans. To be honest, Cas had forgotten Sam was even in the room.

“Led Zeppelin II’s release date,” Dean says. “The day ‘Ramble On’ came into the world. Best day ever.”

Cas develops a new appreciation for October 22, if not just because Dean likes it. 

“Plus I wanted to put 69 in my password,” Dean says, winking outrageously. Sam pretends to vomit. “Sammy over there likes to rotate his password out,” Dean says. He rolls his eyes. “Always between sappy shit like my birthday and Dad’s birthday and Mom’s birthday.”

“Whatever,” Sam says. “Normal people use birthdays or anniversaries, Dean. You’re the freak here.”

“Sounds like something a little bitch would say,” Dean says, winking at Cas. Cas looks down at his phone, hiding a little smile. 

“Jerk,” Sam says, and then he turns on the blender. 

Cas should use a birthday, he supposes. But he does not have one of his own to use. He wants to make it Dean’s birthday. He glances up at Dean, who is jokingly exchanging nasty expressions with Sam. He imagines one of those expressions turned onto him, and looks back at his phone. Perhaps 012479 would be too revealing. He looks at Dean again, and then types in a number. 

Sam turns off the blender and Dean turns back to Cas. 

“So?” he says. “Think of something?”

”Yes,” Cas says. “091808.” He likes those numbers in his mouth. 

“What’s that?” Sam says. 

“Just a random number,” Cas says. For some reason, he doesn’t want Sam to know.

”I guess you met us in ‘08,” Sam muses. 

“I suppose,” Cas says. He looks at Dean. His beautiful face is kind of frozen, cheeks dusted with red. Their eyes meet. Dean’s flush deepens. Cas stares at him. 

Somewhere behind them, Sam bottles his smoothie and leaves the kitchen, muttering about research. Cas doesn’t look away from Dean. 

Impeded only by the heady moans, pathetic gasps and friction against her back as Sydney grinds into Dee's ass. Greedy for the stimulation it provides. Lost in the pleasure of her frantic humping.

.

.

When Dee met Sydney for the first time she hadn’t been particularly interested in the girl.

Had felt a somewhat lukewarm, detached sort of neutrality towards her. 

Only a step above most other people, in her mind, because Sydney was polite, nice enough to talk to (despite the religious bullshit) and didn’t grope or assault her. As everyone else in this shithole of a town liked to do.

Unfortunately those feelings of neutrality were quickly replaced with something else, once Dee got to know the reserved blonde a bit more.

Not only was Sirris her parent; kind, patient Sirris who taught science and was laid back enough that even the rowdiest delinquents begrudgingly tolerated them. But it also meant that most people, or students - not to mention, Whitney and Headmaster Leighton -  didn’t fuck with her. 

Or- At least not to the extent that they like to do with her.

It also became apparent that Sydney actually was as innocent and chaste as she behaved. Like the churches fucking holy figure incarnate. Oblivious towards any of the advances and comments made towards her. Unblemished to a degree she could never hope to be. Not in her circumstances. In short, it meant she was treasured.

“Treasured”. 

A word, so unattainable, Dee could only hungrily salivate over the thought of it. 

Jealousy simmering in her chest, as she shivered in her shitty, orphanage issued bed. As she choked down the cheap, bland food the orphanage provided. 

As she had to steal, fight and whore herself out to stay afloat. As she had to waste more money on bandages, than necessities, green and blue as she was from another run in with would be rapists, kidnappers, bullies and so on. At this point they all started to blend together. 

As another week's pay disappeared into Bailey's bottomless pockets. Another week of freedom, for now at least. An incessant cycle.

Yes. Dees' feelings of neutrality had quickly soured into resentment, for someone who wasn’t even aware of how good they had it.

So the next few times they had crossed paths, Dee had been curt, snappy, maybe even a little cruel; stealing one of the books, knowing Sydney would be the one getting in trouble for it. Despite her best attempts to not let her jealousy boil over.

It had left the Librarian visibly confused and uncertain but annoyingly polite despite it all. 

For the sake of her own sanity, morals as well as a Detention free life, Dee had taken to avoiding Sydney altogether and that had almost been the end of things. 

Until an Idea started to creep in. A gross, sickly little thing that would make her no better than the rest of the fucks in this town. 

But the thought didn't leave her, slowly grew with each passing day instead; like mold or.. lichen she supposed.

She wanted to ruin Sydney. Wanted to drag her down to her level, in the only way she knew. . .

Which is how we find ourselves back in the present. Sydney fervently, desperately dry-humping Dee's ass. Her surprisingly massive girlcock soaking precum into both of their skirts. 

Dee couldn’t even lie to herself; just thinking about Sydney’s pretty, meaty cock had her salivating. Who would've thought someone so cute could hide something so massive under their skirt?

But right now was not the time for that, she had her homework to finish.

Besides- hearing Sydney’s whorish, unabashed moans as the blondes whole body pressed into her back, hands desperately groping and pawing her tits and waist and her cock grinding into her with an almost religious fervor - was exactly the kind of ego boost she needed right now.