Fic: SPN (Sam/Dean): Empathy | R | 2835 words
Title: Empathy
Author: dragonspell
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Missing scene for 6.09. Attempted non-con.
Summary: Dean's in the shower and Sam's not too clear on the concept of "empathy" but he thinks that he's found a great solution to a pressing problem.
Word Count: 2835
A/N: Writing soulless!Sam's POV was harder than I'd thought it would be.
The hiss of the shower echoes through the thin walls and Sam frowns, staring straight ahead at the wall. It’s almost like he can see through it. He’s seen Dean naked so many times before, that it’s easy to picture what he must look like right now. And it’s not exactly off-putting. Fundamentally, Sam knows that, if he had a soul, he might be feeling guilty right about now. He’s certainly got enough memories of angsting over the fact that he’s found his brother hot before. So, in the interests of pretending that he has a soul, Sam knows that he should be sufficiently contrite at the moment.
But why?
He reaches down and adjusts himself, moving his still hard dick away from the harsh, grating seam of his jeans. He’s throbbing. Dean’s timing kind of sucked. If he’d waited another half hour or so, Sam would have been good to go. But no. Instead, in the interest of “caring,” Sam had had to kick the girl out which was just a waste as far as Sam was concerned. And really, the resulting conversation with Dean had done nothing to help Sam out. Dean had been all hesitant mannerisms, ducking his head, glancing away, and there are definitely worse things for Dean to be doing as far as Sam’s libido is concerned. Dean looks kind of hot when he’s pulling that act. Makes Sam want to push him.
And Dean’s thigh had been warm underneath Sam’s hand. Sam had really just wanted to trail his hand up to Dean’s crotch and maybe get rid of the jeans that had separated them but Dean’s look had made him realize that that might not have been such a good idea. Sam was supposed to have been “sensitive” at the time. Dean was going through a hard time, after all. Sam was supposed to be there for him.
Or something.
Sam just doesn’t understand why he couldn't “empathize” with Dean while he was buried balls deep inside of Dean’s ass. Sam’s certain that he’d be able to care a little bit more then.
Well, okay, maybe not, but he would have more of a reason to care about Dean’s feelings then. Because a pissy Dean would certainly equal no happy fun times and that would make Sam feel sad. Or at least his dick feel sad.
Sam thinks that his dick knows what empathy is at least. Maybe he should just follow its lead. It cares more about other people’s feelings-if only for the aforementioned lack of happy fun times.
The hippie chick had been hot, too. And kinky. She’d been whispering about all the different things that she wanted to do earlier and Sam’s dick had felt a lot of empathy then. He had been on board.
But the hippie chick was gone now and Sam was just left with Dean who may or may not still be pissed. Sam doesn’t understand why Dean would be, though. After all, Dean had escaped. That’s a reason to be happy right there, right?
This empathy thing is hard, actually. It seems kind of stupid to have to navigate all the guilt and second guessing and shit that Sam is supposed to be doing. Sam doesn’t know why they can’t just cut straight through the bullshit and get to the heart of the matter. The world would be such an easier place, really.
And Sam would be getting laid right about now. Either Dean would have backed out and let Sam finish what he’d started or, hey, maybe Dean would have joined. Sam thinks that that could have been fun. He could have fucked Dean while Dean fucked the chick or maybe had Dean fuck him while he fucked the chick. Or maybe they both could have fucked her at the same time. The possibilities, really, are endless and they all could have happened if only Dean wasn’t so hung up on the whole “suffering” thing.
Dean, though, he’s been in a mood. Kind of like a ‘if he can’t have any then nobody can’ kick. It’s really boring, actually. A lot of Sam’s current problems would probably be solved if Dean would just get over it. Like the fact that he felt more backed-up than the Hoover Dam because it’s been weeks since he’s been allowed to get off. Now that sucked.
Hell, if Dean would just roll over and spread, Sam thinks he might even get a handle on what happiness is again. Dean, unlike all the random chicks that Sam’s come across lately, wouldn’t expect him to call or care or something afterward. And Dean wasn’t going anywhere, either, so that was just a win-win. Regular sex without having to pretend that he cared? That’d be great.
Well. Except that Dean wants him to pretend now. Maybe Dean would want him to pretend during sex, too? Sam doesn’t think that that would be very much fun. Maybe Dean would just accept an orgasm instead. Sam thinks that he could care enough about that. After all, if Sam was inside of Dean, an orgasm would tighten Dean right on up even more and Sam thinks that it would be hot to fuck into Dean while he writhes-make it more interesting, you know?
Which leads Sam right back to the fact that maybe a solution to a lot of their problems is staring them right in the face. Dean, Sam knows, is cranky lately because he hasn’t been getting any sex. That would make any guy cranky. Oh, sure, Dean was covering it up with a bunch of “heartbreak” and “guilt,” whatever those were, but a lot of it, Sam thinks, comes right down to a lack of sex. Sam can understand that. He doesn’t like going long without sex, after all. He knows how that feels.
So the obvious solution would be for both of them to be getting laid on a regular basis. Sam’s got no problems with that but Dean obviously does (sucks to be stuck with Dean after he’s decided against no-strings attached sex). Dean wants to feel “connected.” He doesn’t want to “cheat” on Lisa, even though she’d already dumped his ass. Which leaves out going to the bar and picking out a really hot couple of chicks and bringing them back for a foursome. That’s a bit upsetting, actually.
So they have to solve the problem of Dean needing to bang somebody he cares about. And that is rather obvious. There’s only one person in the world that Dean cares about more than Lisa and that person would like to have some regular sex, too. There’s another win-win. It’s so obviously brilliant that Sam doesn’t know why they didn’t come up with it before. After all, they spend every night together anyway, they might as well have some fun doing it. That would be, like, multi-tasking. They could even research while they fucked and that would save even more time.
Sam spares a second to think about how Dean would look on his hands and knees with the laptop in front of him, trying to type while Sam fucked him from behind. It’s definitely an idea. Sam thinks that they should get on that one.
So problem solved, right? Sam certainly thinks so. The only one left to inform, really, is Dean and he’s just in the shower, already naked. That’s perfect as far as Sam is concerned. They can start that much faster.
The bathroom’s warm when Sam enters in, the hot water steaming up the mirror already. So Sam quickly shuts the door behind him because Dean will bitch if it gets cold in here and a bitchy Dean is not something that Sam or his dick wants to put up with right now. A bitchy Dean means no happy fun times and that would just be sad, right? He wants Dean to be happy because that means that Dean would be much more likely to just bend over and take it which would make Sam happy and then they could both be happy fucking bunnies. It’s a good plan.
Dean’s only got the curtain half-pulled and Sam can see some tantalizing bits of skin whenever he moves, like the flash of Dean’s ass when he steps backward and then he’s slipping behind the corn-covered curtain again. Yeah, this will be great. Sam can already feel Dean hot and tight around his dick and he thinks that this just might be the best idea that he’s ever had. He strips off his shirt as he comes closer, tossing it to the side before unzipping his jeans and sliding them off his hips. They drop easily to the floor and Sam steps out of them, leaving them where they fall.
He’s focused. He’s on. He’s so ready. Whatshername, the hippie chick, got him so revved up that Sam’s surprised that he’s even upright any more but his dick and him are in complete agreement that Dean is an acceptable substitute. Dean’s hot, after all. Sam’s always known that and so this is just a walk in the park.
Dean must not have heard him come in because he jumps nearly a mile high when Sam steps into the shower with him. “What the Hell?” he shouts, trying to climb the wall like a spitting, angry cat. If he had a tail, it would be frizzed right about now. Sam wants to laugh at Dean but he knows better. You’re not supposed to laugh at the people that you want to fuck. It’s bad manners or something and it definitely puts a crimp in the whole “getting laid” thing because for some reason it pisses people off. So Sam doesn’t laugh. He just wraps his hands around Dean’s hips and holds him steady, pulling him away from the slick tile, as he slides his hard cock right in underneath the cheeks of Dean’s ass, riding the crack and pushing between Dean’s legs. Sam’s eyes flutter-that feels fantastic…
Yeah. Hippie chick, Dean, the waitress at the bar… Any of those will do just fine. Sam, though, thinks that he might have a bit of a preference. Because, again, Dean’s not going to expect him to care and, plus, Dean’s right here which makes him at least three times better than the hippie chick or the waitress. Dean’s also taller and he fits so nicely against Sam because of it. Fantastic idea. An approving rumble echoes through Sam’s chest as he thrusts his hips shallowly forward and he ducks his head to lick at the freckles on Dean’s shoulders. They look like they should taste like strawberry mango. He knows that they won’t-they’ll taste like sweat and Dean and maybe soap-but that’s not going to stop him from licking anyway. There are worst things to taste and Sam likes being able to do something with his mouth.
This is great, really. The air’s warm, the water’s hot, and Dean’s even hotter. Sam really doesn’t know how this could get much better, not with his hands around Dean’s hard hips and his dick about to sink into Dean’s tight ass. Well, no. Scratch that. It will be ten times better once Sam’s in Dean’s tight ass.
Except that Dean’s not apparently on the same page. He’s twisting in Sam’s grasp, glaring and shouting something like, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Confused as to what invisible line he might have crossed now, Sam gives Dean’s shoulder one last nibble. “What?” he asks. Seriously. Dean can be so prickly sometimes. Sam doesn’t understand why Dean just won’t bend over like he should. This is obviously the best solution to their problem. Sam’s horny and so’s Dean even if he’s trying to deny it (denial’s fucking useless, Sam thinks). Plus, Dean interrupted him, so, really, it’s only fair that Dean should be okay with helping Sam take care of this. There’s just no reason for Dean to be pissed off here.
Dean didn’t get that memo. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands.
Well that should be obvious. “I’m horny,” Sam says, thrusting forward so that Dean will get the point. Maybe it’s a shower thing; Dean’s not usually this slow.
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything, Sam?” Dean struggles again and while the way that his ass is rubbing against Sam’s cock feels really nice, if Dean keeps this up, Sam knows that they’re not going to get anywhere because he’s going to need Dean to hold still at least a little bit to get inside of him. “Fucking let go of me!”
Sam blinks at Dean. “Why?” he asks. That would exactly the wrong thing to do if they’re going to do this. Having sex, after all, generally requires touching. As soon as the words are out of Sam’s mouth, though, he realizes that it was probably the wrong thing to say because Dean freezes. At least he stopped squirming.
“Get out,” Dean says flatly, his tone booking no argument and Sam frowns. Again, moving away from Dean would not be too terribly productive. Sam doesn’t know what Dean’s problem is except maybe… He glances downward. Dean’s half-hard unless he’s suddenly grown more than Sam remembers and that doesn’t seem to very likely.
“Oh,” Sam replies, getting it. Dean probably just wants Sam to reciprocate. Sam can do that. It’s rather pointless from his point of view but if it makes Dean happy, Sam can do that. After all, a happy Dean would be much more likely to cooperate and that’s definitely a good thing. “Here…” he says, reaching down to cup Dean’s cock. He gives it a stroke and goes back to licking Dean’s shoulder. “That better?”
Dean’s elbow in Sam’s gut lets Sam know that, no, it is definitely not better and then Dean’s turning in Sam grasp and Dean’s fantastic ass is moving away. Well, damn. “Get the fuck out of here!” Dean shoves at Sam and Sam sighs. Apparently, Dean’s still pissed off about the whole “not looking for him” thing. Dean’s not going to understand that Sam had been looking for him. Just he didn’t see much point in continuing on all night if he didn’t have any leads. Why was that a bad thing?
Dean raises his fist, looking wild-eyed and ready to fight, so Sam holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay!” he says, stepping out of the shower and giving Dean some space. That’s empathy, right? Sam’s empathizing that Dean’s pissed.
And, once again, it proves just how shitty empathy is because him empathizing is taking him away from Dean’s ass and definitely putting a kibosh on all the awesome sex that they could be having.
“Jesus…” Dean sags against the corner of the shower, swallowing hard, and Sam stares at him. He really wants to go back to licking Dean’s freckles. Maybe they’ll taste like snozberries. Matter of fact, he’s thinking about that right now. That and Dean’s hot ass. Sam reaches down and runs a hand along his dick. Fuck, that feels good. Maybe if he lets Dean cool down a little, he’ll be able to talk Dean into a blowjob. He pulls on his dick a little harder, picturing how warm and wet Dean’s mouth would feel. Dean’s definitely got the mouth for it.
Or maybe not because Dean’s eyes are getting bigger. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demands and Sam’s once again confused.
“Jerking off?” he replies honestly before he finally realizes what Dean’s pissed off about now. If he had a soul, he’d probably feel “shame” and “shame” says that you’re supposed to jerk off alone. Usually. Once again, Sam’s breaking some stupid little rule.
“Pretend, Sam,” Dean snaps. “Pretend that you’re normal. Jesus fucking Christ…”
Sam nods and promises that he’ll do better but he still really doesn’t get it. Leaving Dean to be alone in the shower, he heads out in to the motel room. He made a mistake in his calculations somewhere but he’s just not sure where. It’s going to require some thought. In the meantime, he finishes jerking off to the thought of Dean on his back underneath him, begging him to go harder, because Sam likes it when it’s harder. Dean’s empathetic; he’d know that. Sam comes messily across his chest and, though he’s tempted not to, he cleans it up before Dean emerges from the bathroom, wiping it up neatly with a tissue and throwing it into the trash. Pretending that he’s normal.
Well. As best as he’s able. It’s hard pretending like he cares and this not having a soul thing’s hard. Everything just seems so needlessly complicated.
When Dean comes back out, though, Sam will give it his best shot. All the better to make Dean “happy.” A happy Dean is just better for everyone and Sam might not understand the concept of empathy but he can definitely get behind that.
Author: dragonspell
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Missing scene for 6.09. Attempted non-con.
Summary: Dean's in the shower and Sam's not too clear on the concept of "empathy" but he thinks that he's found a great solution to a pressing problem.
Word Count: 2835
A/N: Writing soulless!Sam's POV was harder than I'd thought it would be.
The hiss of the shower echoes through the thin walls and Sam frowns, staring straight ahead at the wall. It’s almost like he can see through it. He’s seen Dean naked so many times before, that it’s easy to picture what he must look like right now. And it’s not exactly off-putting. Fundamentally, Sam knows that, if he had a soul, he might be feeling guilty right about now. He’s certainly got enough memories of angsting over the fact that he’s found his brother hot before. So, in the interests of pretending that he has a soul, Sam knows that he should be sufficiently contrite at the moment.
But why?
He reaches down and adjusts himself, moving his still hard dick away from the harsh, grating seam of his jeans. He’s throbbing. Dean’s timing kind of sucked. If he’d waited another half hour or so, Sam would have been good to go. But no. Instead, in the interest of “caring,” Sam had had to kick the girl out which was just a waste as far as Sam was concerned. And really, the resulting conversation with Dean had done nothing to help Sam out. Dean had been all hesitant mannerisms, ducking his head, glancing away, and there are definitely worse things for Dean to be doing as far as Sam’s libido is concerned. Dean looks kind of hot when he’s pulling that act. Makes Sam want to push him.
And Dean’s thigh had been warm underneath Sam’s hand. Sam had really just wanted to trail his hand up to Dean’s crotch and maybe get rid of the jeans that had separated them but Dean’s look had made him realize that that might not have been such a good idea. Sam was supposed to have been “sensitive” at the time. Dean was going through a hard time, after all. Sam was supposed to be there for him.
Or something.
Sam just doesn’t understand why he couldn't “empathize” with Dean while he was buried balls deep inside of Dean’s ass. Sam’s certain that he’d be able to care a little bit more then.
Well, okay, maybe not, but he would have more of a reason to care about Dean’s feelings then. Because a pissy Dean would certainly equal no happy fun times and that would make Sam feel sad. Or at least his dick feel sad.
Sam thinks that his dick knows what empathy is at least. Maybe he should just follow its lead. It cares more about other people’s feelings-if only for the aforementioned lack of happy fun times.
The hippie chick had been hot, too. And kinky. She’d been whispering about all the different things that she wanted to do earlier and Sam’s dick had felt a lot of empathy then. He had been on board.
But the hippie chick was gone now and Sam was just left with Dean who may or may not still be pissed. Sam doesn’t understand why Dean would be, though. After all, Dean had escaped. That’s a reason to be happy right there, right?
This empathy thing is hard, actually. It seems kind of stupid to have to navigate all the guilt and second guessing and shit that Sam is supposed to be doing. Sam doesn’t know why they can’t just cut straight through the bullshit and get to the heart of the matter. The world would be such an easier place, really.
And Sam would be getting laid right about now. Either Dean would have backed out and let Sam finish what he’d started or, hey, maybe Dean would have joined. Sam thinks that that could have been fun. He could have fucked Dean while Dean fucked the chick or maybe had Dean fuck him while he fucked the chick. Or maybe they both could have fucked her at the same time. The possibilities, really, are endless and they all could have happened if only Dean wasn’t so hung up on the whole “suffering” thing.
Dean, though, he’s been in a mood. Kind of like a ‘if he can’t have any then nobody can’ kick. It’s really boring, actually. A lot of Sam’s current problems would probably be solved if Dean would just get over it. Like the fact that he felt more backed-up than the Hoover Dam because it’s been weeks since he’s been allowed to get off. Now that sucked.
Hell, if Dean would just roll over and spread, Sam thinks he might even get a handle on what happiness is again. Dean, unlike all the random chicks that Sam’s come across lately, wouldn’t expect him to call or care or something afterward. And Dean wasn’t going anywhere, either, so that was just a win-win. Regular sex without having to pretend that he cared? That’d be great.
Well. Except that Dean wants him to pretend now. Maybe Dean would want him to pretend during sex, too? Sam doesn’t think that that would be very much fun. Maybe Dean would just accept an orgasm instead. Sam thinks that he could care enough about that. After all, if Sam was inside of Dean, an orgasm would tighten Dean right on up even more and Sam thinks that it would be hot to fuck into Dean while he writhes-make it more interesting, you know?
Which leads Sam right back to the fact that maybe a solution to a lot of their problems is staring them right in the face. Dean, Sam knows, is cranky lately because he hasn’t been getting any sex. That would make any guy cranky. Oh, sure, Dean was covering it up with a bunch of “heartbreak” and “guilt,” whatever those were, but a lot of it, Sam thinks, comes right down to a lack of sex. Sam can understand that. He doesn’t like going long without sex, after all. He knows how that feels.
So the obvious solution would be for both of them to be getting laid on a regular basis. Sam’s got no problems with that but Dean obviously does (sucks to be stuck with Dean after he’s decided against no-strings attached sex). Dean wants to feel “connected.” He doesn’t want to “cheat” on Lisa, even though she’d already dumped his ass. Which leaves out going to the bar and picking out a really hot couple of chicks and bringing them back for a foursome. That’s a bit upsetting, actually.
So they have to solve the problem of Dean needing to bang somebody he cares about. And that is rather obvious. There’s only one person in the world that Dean cares about more than Lisa and that person would like to have some regular sex, too. There’s another win-win. It’s so obviously brilliant that Sam doesn’t know why they didn’t come up with it before. After all, they spend every night together anyway, they might as well have some fun doing it. That would be, like, multi-tasking. They could even research while they fucked and that would save even more time.
Sam spares a second to think about how Dean would look on his hands and knees with the laptop in front of him, trying to type while Sam fucked him from behind. It’s definitely an idea. Sam thinks that they should get on that one.
So problem solved, right? Sam certainly thinks so. The only one left to inform, really, is Dean and he’s just in the shower, already naked. That’s perfect as far as Sam is concerned. They can start that much faster.
The bathroom’s warm when Sam enters in, the hot water steaming up the mirror already. So Sam quickly shuts the door behind him because Dean will bitch if it gets cold in here and a bitchy Dean is not something that Sam or his dick wants to put up with right now. A bitchy Dean means no happy fun times and that would just be sad, right? He wants Dean to be happy because that means that Dean would be much more likely to just bend over and take it which would make Sam happy and then they could both be happy fucking bunnies. It’s a good plan.
Dean’s only got the curtain half-pulled and Sam can see some tantalizing bits of skin whenever he moves, like the flash of Dean’s ass when he steps backward and then he’s slipping behind the corn-covered curtain again. Yeah, this will be great. Sam can already feel Dean hot and tight around his dick and he thinks that this just might be the best idea that he’s ever had. He strips off his shirt as he comes closer, tossing it to the side before unzipping his jeans and sliding them off his hips. They drop easily to the floor and Sam steps out of them, leaving them where they fall.
He’s focused. He’s on. He’s so ready. Whatshername, the hippie chick, got him so revved up that Sam’s surprised that he’s even upright any more but his dick and him are in complete agreement that Dean is an acceptable substitute. Dean’s hot, after all. Sam’s always known that and so this is just a walk in the park.
Dean must not have heard him come in because he jumps nearly a mile high when Sam steps into the shower with him. “What the Hell?” he shouts, trying to climb the wall like a spitting, angry cat. If he had a tail, it would be frizzed right about now. Sam wants to laugh at Dean but he knows better. You’re not supposed to laugh at the people that you want to fuck. It’s bad manners or something and it definitely puts a crimp in the whole “getting laid” thing because for some reason it pisses people off. So Sam doesn’t laugh. He just wraps his hands around Dean’s hips and holds him steady, pulling him away from the slick tile, as he slides his hard cock right in underneath the cheeks of Dean’s ass, riding the crack and pushing between Dean’s legs. Sam’s eyes flutter-that feels fantastic…
Yeah. Hippie chick, Dean, the waitress at the bar… Any of those will do just fine. Sam, though, thinks that he might have a bit of a preference. Because, again, Dean’s not going to expect him to care and, plus, Dean’s right here which makes him at least three times better than the hippie chick or the waitress. Dean’s also taller and he fits so nicely against Sam because of it. Fantastic idea. An approving rumble echoes through Sam’s chest as he thrusts his hips shallowly forward and he ducks his head to lick at the freckles on Dean’s shoulders. They look like they should taste like strawberry mango. He knows that they won’t-they’ll taste like sweat and Dean and maybe soap-but that’s not going to stop him from licking anyway. There are worst things to taste and Sam likes being able to do something with his mouth.
This is great, really. The air’s warm, the water’s hot, and Dean’s even hotter. Sam really doesn’t know how this could get much better, not with his hands around Dean’s hard hips and his dick about to sink into Dean’s tight ass. Well, no. Scratch that. It will be ten times better once Sam’s in Dean’s tight ass.
Except that Dean’s not apparently on the same page. He’s twisting in Sam’s grasp, glaring and shouting something like, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Confused as to what invisible line he might have crossed now, Sam gives Dean’s shoulder one last nibble. “What?” he asks. Seriously. Dean can be so prickly sometimes. Sam doesn’t understand why Dean just won’t bend over like he should. This is obviously the best solution to their problem. Sam’s horny and so’s Dean even if he’s trying to deny it (denial’s fucking useless, Sam thinks). Plus, Dean interrupted him, so, really, it’s only fair that Dean should be okay with helping Sam take care of this. There’s just no reason for Dean to be pissed off here.
Dean didn’t get that memo. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands.
Well that should be obvious. “I’m horny,” Sam says, thrusting forward so that Dean will get the point. Maybe it’s a shower thing; Dean’s not usually this slow.
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything, Sam?” Dean struggles again and while the way that his ass is rubbing against Sam’s cock feels really nice, if Dean keeps this up, Sam knows that they’re not going to get anywhere because he’s going to need Dean to hold still at least a little bit to get inside of him. “Fucking let go of me!”
Sam blinks at Dean. “Why?” he asks. That would exactly the wrong thing to do if they’re going to do this. Having sex, after all, generally requires touching. As soon as the words are out of Sam’s mouth, though, he realizes that it was probably the wrong thing to say because Dean freezes. At least he stopped squirming.
“Get out,” Dean says flatly, his tone booking no argument and Sam frowns. Again, moving away from Dean would not be too terribly productive. Sam doesn’t know what Dean’s problem is except maybe… He glances downward. Dean’s half-hard unless he’s suddenly grown more than Sam remembers and that doesn’t seem to very likely.
“Oh,” Sam replies, getting it. Dean probably just wants Sam to reciprocate. Sam can do that. It’s rather pointless from his point of view but if it makes Dean happy, Sam can do that. After all, a happy Dean would be much more likely to cooperate and that’s definitely a good thing. “Here…” he says, reaching down to cup Dean’s cock. He gives it a stroke and goes back to licking Dean’s shoulder. “That better?”
Dean’s elbow in Sam’s gut lets Sam know that, no, it is definitely not better and then Dean’s turning in Sam grasp and Dean’s fantastic ass is moving away. Well, damn. “Get the fuck out of here!” Dean shoves at Sam and Sam sighs. Apparently, Dean’s still pissed off about the whole “not looking for him” thing. Dean’s not going to understand that Sam had been looking for him. Just he didn’t see much point in continuing on all night if he didn’t have any leads. Why was that a bad thing?
Dean raises his fist, looking wild-eyed and ready to fight, so Sam holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay!” he says, stepping out of the shower and giving Dean some space. That’s empathy, right? Sam’s empathizing that Dean’s pissed.
And, once again, it proves just how shitty empathy is because him empathizing is taking him away from Dean’s ass and definitely putting a kibosh on all the awesome sex that they could be having.
“Jesus…” Dean sags against the corner of the shower, swallowing hard, and Sam stares at him. He really wants to go back to licking Dean’s freckles. Maybe they’ll taste like snozberries. Matter of fact, he’s thinking about that right now. That and Dean’s hot ass. Sam reaches down and runs a hand along his dick. Fuck, that feels good. Maybe if he lets Dean cool down a little, he’ll be able to talk Dean into a blowjob. He pulls on his dick a little harder, picturing how warm and wet Dean’s mouth would feel. Dean’s definitely got the mouth for it.
Or maybe not because Dean’s eyes are getting bigger. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demands and Sam’s once again confused.
“Jerking off?” he replies honestly before he finally realizes what Dean’s pissed off about now. If he had a soul, he’d probably feel “shame” and “shame” says that you’re supposed to jerk off alone. Usually. Once again, Sam’s breaking some stupid little rule.
“Pretend, Sam,” Dean snaps. “Pretend that you’re normal. Jesus fucking Christ…”
Sam nods and promises that he’ll do better but he still really doesn’t get it. Leaving Dean to be alone in the shower, he heads out in to the motel room. He made a mistake in his calculations somewhere but he’s just not sure where. It’s going to require some thought. In the meantime, he finishes jerking off to the thought of Dean on his back underneath him, begging him to go harder, because Sam likes it when it’s harder. Dean’s empathetic; he’d know that. Sam comes messily across his chest and, though he’s tempted not to, he cleans it up before Dean emerges from the bathroom, wiping it up neatly with a tissue and throwing it into the trash. Pretending that he’s normal.
Well. As best as he’s able. It’s hard pretending like he cares and this not having a soul thing’s hard. Everything just seems so needlessly complicated.
When Dean comes back out, though, Sam will give it his best shot. All the better to make Dean “happy.” A happy Dean is just better for everyone and Sam might not understand the concept of empathy but he can definitely get behind that.