...you fool - Part 3
Oct. 19th, 2013 01:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alexisjaneThe third part of the Kissing fics prompted by this post on Pinterest.
This was a hard set...I feel exhausted but they're done. and hopefully make sense.
Warnings - I'm watching Season 9 so everything has the potential to be spoilery, NC-17, angsty, a bit of violence and gore and lots and lots of yummy Wincest so if you don't like the sound of that, please read something else.
My house. My rules. My boys.
(Disclaimer; These are my words but all my base are belong to Kripke, Sera, Ben or whoever so don't sue me. It's just for fun)
Feedback is both feared and loved but I need it like Bella needs a slap. Well, she does! x
Dean knew it was a bad idea.
A bad, BAD idea.
But when Sammy had that look in his eye…well, if he was going to stay the best brother ever, he couldn't say no, could he?
It's just the library was so damn quiet. Usually there was something, fluorescent lights, air-con, computer fans, people even, to make some noise but not here. Even death wasn't this quiet. Well…bad example.
When Sam gave him the look, that look, all sweet and filthy, over the top of some dusty volume of local confederate history, Dean could practically hear his blood pressure go up. So he should have known the volume of their chairs grinding over the tile floor when they pushed them back in unison (rookie mistake) was more than enough to draw the attention of the baggy-sweatered librarian behind the desk.
By the time they got behind the book stack, Dean thought he could hear Sam's pounding heart syncopating with the sound of his own.
Then it was too late to say no. Sam panted into Dean's mouth as he licked his way into Sam's, their lips smacking and stubble scratching as they pressed into each other. Teeth scratching momentarily over teeth, before they pulled back and gasped for air. Their bodies surged back, slamming into the wall and onto each other, hands grasping and rustling under jackets and shirts and undershirts.
Sam murmured at his touch and let out a whimper when Dean's hand brushed his nipple.
Dean clamped down onto Sam's mouth to silence him but ended up moaning himself as Sam's fingers found their way into the back of his jeans and dug into his buttocks, pulling him in.
Their tongues lapped frenetically, slobbering their chins with spit and echoing the jean-on-jean rhythmic rasping as they thrust against each other.
And all the while Sam letting out the sporadic, almost inaudible 'uh' that kept Dean inexorably bound to him.
The cacophony filled Dean's ears and for a moment it was magical, a full spectrum sensory experience of what was normally lost in the hum of the everyday world.
But then the security guard cleared his throat behind them and that kinda ruined it.
"Do you think he's okay" Sam looked worried and a little guilty as they drove away, tyres squealing as the rounded the corner.
"Pfft, he's fine! He'll sleep it off and have a great story to tell the cops in the morning." Dean scowled and dispelled the anxiety with a wave of his hand. He'd checked the guy was breathing before they left. Twice. So there was no need to worry. "But Sammy…?" He made sure he had eye contact and his full attention "Let's remember which state we're in before you go all Jessica Rabbit on me again, okay? "
----------------------------
The motel door banged open with such force, the curtains covering the small window next to it billowed and sent the papers that Sam had left on the table, floating down to the floor.
Sam was so relieved to see the crappy little room.
He didn't think he could carry Dean even one step more when he finally hauled him off his shoulder and onto the bed. Dean slumped down into a seated position, groaned and involuntarily started to roll back.
"Whoa, hold on buddy!" Sam grabbed him and pulled him back upright "Let's get you patched up first." He knelt down pushing forward between Dean's legs spreading them open and gently cupping his chin, lifted his drooping head away from his chest
He winced. Dean was such a mess it hurt Sam to look at him.
He should be in the hospital but they just couldn't risk it. If he had taken him there, Dean would have just crawled back out on his hands and knees on principle, anyway. He'd have to just put him together himself.
Once Dean was balanced, Sam grabbed what he needed and was back down at Dean's feet before he could topple over again.
It took him a while to get Dean's shirt off. The thick sticky blood soaked into it had glued the buttons into the holes. He'd have to burn it later.
After one failed attempt to get Dean's undershirt off, Sam figured dislocated shoulder trumps clothing, and started to cut it off. Dean groaned and glared at Sam with the eye that wasn't swollen shut. Sam just shook his head.
How Dean could tell his favourite teeshirt from the others when they were all exactly the same, he'll never know.
What was underneath wasn't as bad as he had expected. What bruising was there, was blooming purple and red up to the surface but he'd had worse. Sam carefully ran his hand over Dean's torso as he wiped it clean, trying to gently feel for anything swollen or broken. Any damage there was, old scars and healed ribs, had all been there that morning.
The most worrying thing was the cut where the demon had tried to slice off Dean's tattoo. It wasn't badly damaged but Sam knew he'd have to be especially careful sewing it up so he didn't mess with the mojo.
As he tentatively wiped and blotted, only backing off momentarily when Dean flinched and moaned, his brother started to emerge from the bloody mess that he'd carried from the car.
His left eye was really swollen but he could open it enough that Sam could see that Dean's eyeball was still working. The jagged cut on his temple was bad but it was already closing itself. There was a clump of hair missing from the back of his head but Sam decided to wait until Dean was feeling a little better before he told him about that. Sam couldn't help but stare at the bite mark on Dean's neck and shudder, thinking of that thing's mouth touching the place where his own had been just hours before.
The worst damage was to Dean's jaw and lips. It looked like thats where most of the demon's rage had been focused. God knows what Dean had said to it but he had definitely pissed it off enough to want to shut him up for good.
Dean groaned when Sam put his hands on his jawbone, both of them praying that it wasn't broken, relieved when it moved the way it was supposed to.
It was going to be soup and smoothies for at least a week. Sam hoped Dean wouldn't try and liquidize a burger like last time. The memory made him smile
"Fffummm ummuu" was all Dean could manage but Sam knew a 'Fuck You' when he heard one.
"I'm not laughing at you, dumbass!" He gingerly started to wipe at Dean's lips.
Sam imagined, that like the rest of Dean, once the blood and dirt was off, they would look better. They didn't.
One side of his top lip was normal but just served to make the other swollen half look even bigger. The bottom lip was split in three places and puffed up like an over-ripe fruit. One of the splits was oozing. The look on Sam's face was the next best thing to a mirror.
Dean made a noise that roughly translated as 'is it really that bad?'
Sam sighed "Well, I'm not kissing that."
Dean snorted and smiled and cried out with the pain of it, raising his hand up to cradle his face. Sam got there first, mainly to stop Dean from touching his open wounds with his still filthy hands. He put his gently around the places on Dean's head that looked the least sore.
He wanted more than anything to just kiss him better but every inch of his skin looked ragged with pain.
Cautiously, he brought his forehead to rest on the side of Dean's that had escaped injury. He felt Dean's breath shudder out of him, knowing tears would follow. And did the only thing he could think of.
Later, much later, after Sam had held him up in the shower, one arm around his chest while the other washed him down, after Sam had popped the trick shoulder back into place and sewed up the places that needed sewing, after Sam had stayed awake for nearly two days watching his brother for signs of a concussion, holding him all night, every night, after the week of tending, feeding, caring, after all this and more, he started to wish he'd just left Dean where he found him, in the parking lot gutter.
"Seriously?"
"Dean! Will you just let it go!"
"I worry about you Sam."
"It's…it's an innuit thing, okay!"
"Yes, because the name Winchester clearly shows our eskimo heritage?!"
"For god's sake! It was one kiss!"
"No. Not a kiss. A violation was what it was"
"Your mouth looked like a baboon's ass. What was I supposed to do?!"
"Not that, Sammy. Not that."
-------------------------
"Oh Sammy, come on!"
Sam had shot to his feet and already made a move to storm away but turned back and glared down at Dean. "No, fuck you, Dean! Just…Just once I'd like to feel…normal. Just once!"
Then he was off.
Not out of the bar as Dean expected but over to the pool tables on the other side of the large room.
Dean shook his hanging head and stared at the beer bottle in his hand, avoiding the stares of the people around him.
He couldn't see them but they had to be looking at him like the asshole he was.
He smiled awkwardly to himself.
It was ironic, really. Sam had finally accepted everything. He didn't seem to hanker for a different career, or life, anymore. He was hunter now, all in, like it should be. Happy to live on the road. No more surreptitious searches for colleges or planning what to do after it was all over. Willing to do whatever was needed to get the job done.
And even the thing between them had been resolved. They had both struggled with it in different ways in the beginning but now, now it was the two of them, together, all in, like it should be.
Except Dean kept fucking it up.
There were times, places, when, with the best will in the world, they had to keep their mouths shut and their hands off each other.
It was just common sense. And in some cases, the law.
But then there came times and places, like this. A gay bar in San Francisco. It didn't get more perfect than this. If there was any place that Dean could give his brother what he wanted, some semblance of normality or their twisted version of it anyway, it was here.
Dean hadn't wanted to go, all he could think was drag queens and bondage gear.
Turned out it was just like a regular bar, even the music was fairly decent. They were having a really good evening, gearing up towards a pretty spectacular night.
But then Sammy had leant over to kiss him and Dean flinched away. And of course, made it oh so much worse by trying to make a joke out of the whole thing. Even the extra special smile just seemed to pour fuel on the fuck up.
The beer bottle squeaked in Dean's hands as he wrung it in frustration. Then he nearly spilt the damn thing when he clocked some guy sidling over to Sam and, oh my god, buying him a drink. And Sammy just letting it happen.
There was only one thing for it.
Dean stood, took a deep breath and roughly straightened his jacket. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible but not succeeding, he walked over to where Sam was leant on the bar, totally letting the drink-buying jerk hit on him.
He had to clear his throat twice before Sam decided to turn round.
Sam glared and Dean's courage faltered.
As did his voice.
"..m….ree"
Sam leant his head down and squinted "I'm sorry? Did you say something?"
Dean sighed and took a deep breath and too loud said "I'm Sorry!" It got everyone's attention but he did his best to keep his eyes on Sam. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I know I can be a shit bro…boyfriend.." The word made him wince but Sam appreciated it "…sometimes. I will make it up to you. Anyway you want."
Speech over, he nodded to himself and sighed. Then putting one hand on Sam's chest he craned his neck up and gave him a peck on the lips, instantly feeling the flush of pink colour his cheeks. He flashed the drink-buying jerk, who was standing there smirking, his best 'touch him and I'll end you' look, before scurrying back to the safety of his beer.
He couldn't help smiling as he downed it in one draft. He could see Sam making his way back to the table out of the corner of his eye.
The make up sex was going to be awesome.
------------------------
Dean swung the axe and missed.
The vampire lunged at him but Dean was quicker. He took a step back and to the side, using the vampire's own momentum to send him sprawling onto his face. Dean swung the axe over his head and brought it down onto the creature's neck with every bit of strength he had left.
It was enough.
The axe hit with a sickening thwack and it's head rolled away leaving a gushing river of blood behind it.
Dean's relief was short-lived.
Sam's scream cut through the sudden silence.
Dean froze inside but his body took over and staggered off in the direction of the barn, praying Sam was still where he left him and that he wasn't too late.
They should never have come.
The nest had turned out to be a whole lot bigger than they had expected but even still, that last hunt had really taken it out of them both so they weren't at full strength.They should have waited.
The thought that Sam might be dead or worse flooded Dean with adrenaline as he kicked open the barn door and burst through, "Sam!"
It took his eyes a moment to register in the gloom. Three headless bodies lay sprawled out like some macabre slumber party on the blood-soak straw that covered the floor. A cursory glance told him the none were Sam but it didn't ease his panic. He raised up the axe ready to swing and yelled again "Sam!"
"Um…here." The sheepish tone wasn't what Dean had expected but he rounded the stack of bails that blocked his view with caution and a little relief.
When he saw what was on the other side, he stopped, raised his eyebrows and lowered the axe to the ground.
"How the hell did you get up there?"
Sam smiled, mortified, upside-down, swinging gently as he slowly rotated, suspended by one foot from the hayloft above. "I tripped…I got tangled and tripped, okay. Just…cut me down before I pass out!…Dean!"
Sam had turned so far round that he couldn't see Dean but he could hear him laughing. He tried to jerk his head round to flick himself back but he just succeeded in flapping about like a fish on a line and didn't get anywhere.
"Goddammit! Get me down, you ass!"
Dean chuckled quietly and rested forward onto the long handle of the axe. "Oh, I'm the ass! You're the one strung up like a Christmas Turkey!"
Sam stopped struggling and let his body go limp. "Dude. Seriously. My leg is killing me."
Dean took a long breath and walked forward, muttering "Okay, Sammy. But, my god, the possibilities…"
Sam breathed a sigh of relief when Dean snatched Sam's lost machete poking out of the straw beneath him and headed toward the rickety ladder in the corner.
But then Dean stopped and spun on his heel.
"What are you doing?" Sam had a sneaking suspicion why Dean was grinning and jogging back towards him "Oh god, your not…"
Dean shrugged and placed a hand on either side of Sam's inverted face. "Come on Sam. When else am I going to get the chance?"
Sam huffed and closed his eyes so he didn't have to look up Dean's nose. "Well hurry up, my foot is about to come off, you jerk!"
Dean brought his mouth up to Sam's so he could feel the whisper on his lips. "Bitch."
Sam was surprised how uncomfortable his jeans suddenly became, being that the majority of his blood was in his upstairs brain but managed to stammer. "I'm..so cancelling your Netflix account."
Dean smiled. And kissed him. Even though he was purple.
------------------------
Sam's tongue ran slowly up from Dean's collarbone, to the sensitive spot where his jaw met his ear. Dean had been holding his breath without even realising until Sam's tongue flicked over his earlobe and he let it out all at once.
And then inhaled deeply and held it as Sam leant back down and began again.
All the hours, days, years that he'd spent on the rack in Hell, under Alistair's hands and knife, he never imagined that anyone could come up with a torture that he hadn't endured or imagined.
But if anyone could surprise him, it was going to be Sammy.
When Sam had laid him out, stripped to the waist , and started to raise his arms above his head, Dean could feel panic start to set in.
But Sam had sensed it, felt his body tense under him and had murmured gentle words in his ear and promised him faithfully with his eyes that everything was going to be okay, until Dean relaxed again.
Gradually, Sam had worked Deans wrists up towards the handcuffs and once they clicked shut had stroked back down his body just as slowly, vigilant to any change in his flesh or breath that meant the panic was back. But it didn't come.
Once Sam reached the waistband of Dean's jeans, he put his mouth on him, starting on his hipbone, using his lips and tongue to work back and forth across Dean's body, touching every pore.
And so it had gone on. Dean couldn't be sure how long they had been like this but he felt like his brain and various other parts of him were going to explode.
Since he got back, physical contact with anyone had been difficult and intimacy with Sam was just not an option. He thought he could deal with it on his own. That the guilt would somehow just fade over time. But it didn't. He felt like he was losing it, losing himself. Hell, he couldn't even get it up anymore.
Confessing to Sam what he had done, what he had become, was the last resort. And all it had achieved was emptiness. It didn't make him feel better. Or worse.
It had wiped him clean and there was nothing left but a shell.
So when Sam had broken the silence of the motel room and asked him if he trusted him, he had no idea. But Sam had come to him anyway and when he started to pull his shirt from his shoulders, Dean couldn't think of a reason to stop him.
Now, he was lying here, covered in a sheen of sweat and spit, Sam's lips sucking at the stubble on the line of his jaw, his cock harder than he could ever remember it being, aware of the sticky patch seeping through his jeans, breathing hard and trying not to cry out.
He wanted Sam to use his teeth on him, bite him, scratch him, ravage him but he just kept on gently kissing up to the corner of Dean's mouth.
Then his tongue was inside it.
Dean craned his head forward biting and urgent but Sam pulled away until Dean relaxed. It took two more tries but eventually Sam was able to kiss Dean with the slow languid movements he wanted, tongues sliding slowly over each other and lips gently sucking lips.
Sam pulled away. Dean looked flushed which just served to make his eyes glow greener. Sam smiled. Dean brought his head up as if to kiss him but whispered "I love you, Sammy"
Sam shook his head and smiled wider "You're such a girl, Dean" He leant his head down and kissed his brother again.
Then started the slow journey back down.
Hoping that Dean could wait until he got there.
This was a hard set...I feel exhausted but they're done. and hopefully make sense.
Warnings - I'm watching Season 9 so everything has the potential to be spoilery, NC-17, angsty, a bit of violence and gore and lots and lots of yummy Wincest so if you don't like the sound of that, please read something else.
My house. My rules. My boys.
(Disclaimer; These are my words but all my base are belong to Kripke, Sera, Ben or whoever so don't sue me. It's just for fun)
Feedback is both feared and loved but I need it like Bella needs a slap. Well, she does! x
Dean knew it was a bad idea.
A bad, BAD idea.
But when Sammy had that look in his eye…well, if he was going to stay the best brother ever, he couldn't say no, could he?
It's just the library was so damn quiet. Usually there was something, fluorescent lights, air-con, computer fans, people even, to make some noise but not here. Even death wasn't this quiet. Well…bad example.
When Sam gave him the look, that look, all sweet and filthy, over the top of some dusty volume of local confederate history, Dean could practically hear his blood pressure go up. So he should have known the volume of their chairs grinding over the tile floor when they pushed them back in unison (rookie mistake) was more than enough to draw the attention of the baggy-sweatered librarian behind the desk.
By the time they got behind the book stack, Dean thought he could hear Sam's pounding heart syncopating with the sound of his own.
Then it was too late to say no. Sam panted into Dean's mouth as he licked his way into Sam's, their lips smacking and stubble scratching as they pressed into each other. Teeth scratching momentarily over teeth, before they pulled back and gasped for air. Their bodies surged back, slamming into the wall and onto each other, hands grasping and rustling under jackets and shirts and undershirts.
Sam murmured at his touch and let out a whimper when Dean's hand brushed his nipple.
Dean clamped down onto Sam's mouth to silence him but ended up moaning himself as Sam's fingers found their way into the back of his jeans and dug into his buttocks, pulling him in.
Their tongues lapped frenetically, slobbering their chins with spit and echoing the jean-on-jean rhythmic rasping as they thrust against each other.
And all the while Sam letting out the sporadic, almost inaudible 'uh' that kept Dean inexorably bound to him.
The cacophony filled Dean's ears and for a moment it was magical, a full spectrum sensory experience of what was normally lost in the hum of the everyday world.
But then the security guard cleared his throat behind them and that kinda ruined it.
"Do you think he's okay" Sam looked worried and a little guilty as they drove away, tyres squealing as the rounded the corner.
"Pfft, he's fine! He'll sleep it off and have a great story to tell the cops in the morning." Dean scowled and dispelled the anxiety with a wave of his hand. He'd checked the guy was breathing before they left. Twice. So there was no need to worry. "But Sammy…?" He made sure he had eye contact and his full attention "Let's remember which state we're in before you go all Jessica Rabbit on me again, okay? "
----------------------------
The motel door banged open with such force, the curtains covering the small window next to it billowed and sent the papers that Sam had left on the table, floating down to the floor.
Sam was so relieved to see the crappy little room.
He didn't think he could carry Dean even one step more when he finally hauled him off his shoulder and onto the bed. Dean slumped down into a seated position, groaned and involuntarily started to roll back.
"Whoa, hold on buddy!" Sam grabbed him and pulled him back upright "Let's get you patched up first." He knelt down pushing forward between Dean's legs spreading them open and gently cupping his chin, lifted his drooping head away from his chest
He winced. Dean was such a mess it hurt Sam to look at him.
He should be in the hospital but they just couldn't risk it. If he had taken him there, Dean would have just crawled back out on his hands and knees on principle, anyway. He'd have to just put him together himself.
Once Dean was balanced, Sam grabbed what he needed and was back down at Dean's feet before he could topple over again.
It took him a while to get Dean's shirt off. The thick sticky blood soaked into it had glued the buttons into the holes. He'd have to burn it later.
After one failed attempt to get Dean's undershirt off, Sam figured dislocated shoulder trumps clothing, and started to cut it off. Dean groaned and glared at Sam with the eye that wasn't swollen shut. Sam just shook his head.
How Dean could tell his favourite teeshirt from the others when they were all exactly the same, he'll never know.
What was underneath wasn't as bad as he had expected. What bruising was there, was blooming purple and red up to the surface but he'd had worse. Sam carefully ran his hand over Dean's torso as he wiped it clean, trying to gently feel for anything swollen or broken. Any damage there was, old scars and healed ribs, had all been there that morning.
The most worrying thing was the cut where the demon had tried to slice off Dean's tattoo. It wasn't badly damaged but Sam knew he'd have to be especially careful sewing it up so he didn't mess with the mojo.
As he tentatively wiped and blotted, only backing off momentarily when Dean flinched and moaned, his brother started to emerge from the bloody mess that he'd carried from the car.
His left eye was really swollen but he could open it enough that Sam could see that Dean's eyeball was still working. The jagged cut on his temple was bad but it was already closing itself. There was a clump of hair missing from the back of his head but Sam decided to wait until Dean was feeling a little better before he told him about that. Sam couldn't help but stare at the bite mark on Dean's neck and shudder, thinking of that thing's mouth touching the place where his own had been just hours before.
The worst damage was to Dean's jaw and lips. It looked like thats where most of the demon's rage had been focused. God knows what Dean had said to it but he had definitely pissed it off enough to want to shut him up for good.
Dean groaned when Sam put his hands on his jawbone, both of them praying that it wasn't broken, relieved when it moved the way it was supposed to.
It was going to be soup and smoothies for at least a week. Sam hoped Dean wouldn't try and liquidize a burger like last time. The memory made him smile
"Fffummm ummuu" was all Dean could manage but Sam knew a 'Fuck You' when he heard one.
"I'm not laughing at you, dumbass!" He gingerly started to wipe at Dean's lips.
Sam imagined, that like the rest of Dean, once the blood and dirt was off, they would look better. They didn't.
One side of his top lip was normal but just served to make the other swollen half look even bigger. The bottom lip was split in three places and puffed up like an over-ripe fruit. One of the splits was oozing. The look on Sam's face was the next best thing to a mirror.
Dean made a noise that roughly translated as 'is it really that bad?'
Sam sighed "Well, I'm not kissing that."
Dean snorted and smiled and cried out with the pain of it, raising his hand up to cradle his face. Sam got there first, mainly to stop Dean from touching his open wounds with his still filthy hands. He put his gently around the places on Dean's head that looked the least sore.
He wanted more than anything to just kiss him better but every inch of his skin looked ragged with pain.
Cautiously, he brought his forehead to rest on the side of Dean's that had escaped injury. He felt Dean's breath shudder out of him, knowing tears would follow. And did the only thing he could think of.
Later, much later, after Sam had held him up in the shower, one arm around his chest while the other washed him down, after Sam had popped the trick shoulder back into place and sewed up the places that needed sewing, after Sam had stayed awake for nearly two days watching his brother for signs of a concussion, holding him all night, every night, after the week of tending, feeding, caring, after all this and more, he started to wish he'd just left Dean where he found him, in the parking lot gutter.
"Seriously?"
"Dean! Will you just let it go!"
"I worry about you Sam."
"It's…it's an innuit thing, okay!"
"Yes, because the name Winchester clearly shows our eskimo heritage?!"
"For god's sake! It was one kiss!"
"No. Not a kiss. A violation was what it was"
"Your mouth looked like a baboon's ass. What was I supposed to do?!"
"Not that, Sammy. Not that."
-------------------------
"Oh Sammy, come on!"
Sam had shot to his feet and already made a move to storm away but turned back and glared down at Dean. "No, fuck you, Dean! Just…Just once I'd like to feel…normal. Just once!"
Then he was off.
Not out of the bar as Dean expected but over to the pool tables on the other side of the large room.
Dean shook his hanging head and stared at the beer bottle in his hand, avoiding the stares of the people around him.
He couldn't see them but they had to be looking at him like the asshole he was.
He smiled awkwardly to himself.
It was ironic, really. Sam had finally accepted everything. He didn't seem to hanker for a different career, or life, anymore. He was hunter now, all in, like it should be. Happy to live on the road. No more surreptitious searches for colleges or planning what to do after it was all over. Willing to do whatever was needed to get the job done.
And even the thing between them had been resolved. They had both struggled with it in different ways in the beginning but now, now it was the two of them, together, all in, like it should be.
Except Dean kept fucking it up.
There were times, places, when, with the best will in the world, they had to keep their mouths shut and their hands off each other.
It was just common sense. And in some cases, the law.
But then there came times and places, like this. A gay bar in San Francisco. It didn't get more perfect than this. If there was any place that Dean could give his brother what he wanted, some semblance of normality or their twisted version of it anyway, it was here.
Dean hadn't wanted to go, all he could think was drag queens and bondage gear.
Turned out it was just like a regular bar, even the music was fairly decent. They were having a really good evening, gearing up towards a pretty spectacular night.
But then Sammy had leant over to kiss him and Dean flinched away. And of course, made it oh so much worse by trying to make a joke out of the whole thing. Even the extra special smile just seemed to pour fuel on the fuck up.
The beer bottle squeaked in Dean's hands as he wrung it in frustration. Then he nearly spilt the damn thing when he clocked some guy sidling over to Sam and, oh my god, buying him a drink. And Sammy just letting it happen.
There was only one thing for it.
Dean stood, took a deep breath and roughly straightened his jacket. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible but not succeeding, he walked over to where Sam was leant on the bar, totally letting the drink-buying jerk hit on him.
He had to clear his throat twice before Sam decided to turn round.
Sam glared and Dean's courage faltered.
As did his voice.
"..m….ree"
Sam leant his head down and squinted "I'm sorry? Did you say something?"
Dean sighed and took a deep breath and too loud said "I'm Sorry!" It got everyone's attention but he did his best to keep his eyes on Sam. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I know I can be a shit bro…boyfriend.." The word made him wince but Sam appreciated it "…sometimes. I will make it up to you. Anyway you want."
Speech over, he nodded to himself and sighed. Then putting one hand on Sam's chest he craned his neck up and gave him a peck on the lips, instantly feeling the flush of pink colour his cheeks. He flashed the drink-buying jerk, who was standing there smirking, his best 'touch him and I'll end you' look, before scurrying back to the safety of his beer.
He couldn't help smiling as he downed it in one draft. He could see Sam making his way back to the table out of the corner of his eye.
The make up sex was going to be awesome.
------------------------
Dean swung the axe and missed.
The vampire lunged at him but Dean was quicker. He took a step back and to the side, using the vampire's own momentum to send him sprawling onto his face. Dean swung the axe over his head and brought it down onto the creature's neck with every bit of strength he had left.
It was enough.
The axe hit with a sickening thwack and it's head rolled away leaving a gushing river of blood behind it.
Dean's relief was short-lived.
Sam's scream cut through the sudden silence.
Dean froze inside but his body took over and staggered off in the direction of the barn, praying Sam was still where he left him and that he wasn't too late.
They should never have come.
The nest had turned out to be a whole lot bigger than they had expected but even still, that last hunt had really taken it out of them both so they weren't at full strength.They should have waited.
The thought that Sam might be dead or worse flooded Dean with adrenaline as he kicked open the barn door and burst through, "Sam!"
It took his eyes a moment to register in the gloom. Three headless bodies lay sprawled out like some macabre slumber party on the blood-soak straw that covered the floor. A cursory glance told him the none were Sam but it didn't ease his panic. He raised up the axe ready to swing and yelled again "Sam!"
"Um…here." The sheepish tone wasn't what Dean had expected but he rounded the stack of bails that blocked his view with caution and a little relief.
When he saw what was on the other side, he stopped, raised his eyebrows and lowered the axe to the ground.
"How the hell did you get up there?"
Sam smiled, mortified, upside-down, swinging gently as he slowly rotated, suspended by one foot from the hayloft above. "I tripped…I got tangled and tripped, okay. Just…cut me down before I pass out!…Dean!"
Sam had turned so far round that he couldn't see Dean but he could hear him laughing. He tried to jerk his head round to flick himself back but he just succeeded in flapping about like a fish on a line and didn't get anywhere.
"Goddammit! Get me down, you ass!"
Dean chuckled quietly and rested forward onto the long handle of the axe. "Oh, I'm the ass! You're the one strung up like a Christmas Turkey!"
Sam stopped struggling and let his body go limp. "Dude. Seriously. My leg is killing me."
Dean took a long breath and walked forward, muttering "Okay, Sammy. But, my god, the possibilities…"
Sam breathed a sigh of relief when Dean snatched Sam's lost machete poking out of the straw beneath him and headed toward the rickety ladder in the corner.
But then Dean stopped and spun on his heel.
"What are you doing?" Sam had a sneaking suspicion why Dean was grinning and jogging back towards him "Oh god, your not…"
Dean shrugged and placed a hand on either side of Sam's inverted face. "Come on Sam. When else am I going to get the chance?"
Sam huffed and closed his eyes so he didn't have to look up Dean's nose. "Well hurry up, my foot is about to come off, you jerk!"
Dean brought his mouth up to Sam's so he could feel the whisper on his lips. "Bitch."
Sam was surprised how uncomfortable his jeans suddenly became, being that the majority of his blood was in his upstairs brain but managed to stammer. "I'm..so cancelling your Netflix account."
Dean smiled. And kissed him. Even though he was purple.
------------------------
Sam's tongue ran slowly up from Dean's collarbone, to the sensitive spot where his jaw met his ear. Dean had been holding his breath without even realising until Sam's tongue flicked over his earlobe and he let it out all at once.
And then inhaled deeply and held it as Sam leant back down and began again.
All the hours, days, years that he'd spent on the rack in Hell, under Alistair's hands and knife, he never imagined that anyone could come up with a torture that he hadn't endured or imagined.
But if anyone could surprise him, it was going to be Sammy.
When Sam had laid him out, stripped to the waist , and started to raise his arms above his head, Dean could feel panic start to set in.
But Sam had sensed it, felt his body tense under him and had murmured gentle words in his ear and promised him faithfully with his eyes that everything was going to be okay, until Dean relaxed again.
Gradually, Sam had worked Deans wrists up towards the handcuffs and once they clicked shut had stroked back down his body just as slowly, vigilant to any change in his flesh or breath that meant the panic was back. But it didn't come.
Once Sam reached the waistband of Dean's jeans, he put his mouth on him, starting on his hipbone, using his lips and tongue to work back and forth across Dean's body, touching every pore.
And so it had gone on. Dean couldn't be sure how long they had been like this but he felt like his brain and various other parts of him were going to explode.
Since he got back, physical contact with anyone had been difficult and intimacy with Sam was just not an option. He thought he could deal with it on his own. That the guilt would somehow just fade over time. But it didn't. He felt like he was losing it, losing himself. Hell, he couldn't even get it up anymore.
Confessing to Sam what he had done, what he had become, was the last resort. And all it had achieved was emptiness. It didn't make him feel better. Or worse.
It had wiped him clean and there was nothing left but a shell.
So when Sam had broken the silence of the motel room and asked him if he trusted him, he had no idea. But Sam had come to him anyway and when he started to pull his shirt from his shoulders, Dean couldn't think of a reason to stop him.
Now, he was lying here, covered in a sheen of sweat and spit, Sam's lips sucking at the stubble on the line of his jaw, his cock harder than he could ever remember it being, aware of the sticky patch seeping through his jeans, breathing hard and trying not to cry out.
He wanted Sam to use his teeth on him, bite him, scratch him, ravage him but he just kept on gently kissing up to the corner of Dean's mouth.
Then his tongue was inside it.
Dean craned his head forward biting and urgent but Sam pulled away until Dean relaxed. It took two more tries but eventually Sam was able to kiss Dean with the slow languid movements he wanted, tongues sliding slowly over each other and lips gently sucking lips.
Sam pulled away. Dean looked flushed which just served to make his eyes glow greener. Sam smiled. Dean brought his head up as if to kiss him but whispered "I love you, Sammy"
Sam shook his head and smiled wider "You're such a girl, Dean" He leant his head down and kissed his brother again.
Then started the slow journey back down.
Hoping that Dean could wait until he got there.
