I'm the Thorn In Your Side | Sam/Dean | NC-17 | 14615 words
Part I | Part II | Art Post
Sam had known it was a stupid thing to do the moment that his feet hit the hard asphalt of the road but he just hadn’t been thinking. All he’d done was see the thing on top of Dean and he’d reacted. There’d been no thinking involved. No plan. If there had been, he would have known that charging blindly after the creature wouldn’t get him anything. Not with night falling and visibility dropping to just about zero.
Sam slowed down to a jog, watching the deer that the creature had turned into bound off down the road. He was just lucky that the thing hadn’t turned on him because it had been stupid to take off after it alone. Dean was back at the motel room, no doubt cussing him out and-Sam stopped his thoughts right there. Dean was alone.
Fear pounding through his heart, Sam ran back to the motel room to see the door still sitting open like he’d left it. Dean was leaning against the jam, glaring down at a black cord on the cement like it had personally insulted him and Sam swallowed hard because seeing that Dean was safe was allowing other thoughts to run through his mind now.
Like what he’d seen Dean doing. Dean had been on the bed, underneath what looked like Sam and he hadn’t been protesting at all until he’d heard the door squeak. No, Dean… Dean had been quite willing.
Dean had been willing. Willingly kissing Sam. Sam felt sick and hopeful at the exact same time because Dean had been kissing a man who he’d thought was Sam…but Sam had no idea why. He knew what he wanted, but he had no idea if it was true. There was no way of knowing if the monster had just encouraged Dean or if he’d threatened him.
Dean turned away as Sam came closer, disappearing back into the room without meeting Sam’s eyes, and Sam felt his heart sink. “He get away?” Dean asked the wall gruffly as he hobbled back over to the bed.
Shrugging, Sam followed him in, stepping over the cord. “He, uh, turned into a deer.” Recognizing the cord on the sidewalk, Sam frowned over at his computer which was still sitting on the table though there was now a black mark where the charger should have been. “What happened to the laptop?”
Dean dropped himself down on the bed with a groan, easing his bad leg out in front of him. “It caught on fire,” he said. Fire? His eyes flicked up to meet Sam’s. “A deer?” Sam nodded as Dean scrubbed at his chin. “Jesus. And I’m pretty sure the laptop was another sacrifice to the gods of mayhem. …This changes things.”
Sam nodded again. The creature was obviously more than just a shifter. More than a gremlin. More than a curse. Gods of mayhem were right. They had to start researching all over again.
…But that really wasn’t what Sam wanted to do right now. The air was still tight with tension from ignoring the elephant in the room and that elephant was the only thing that Sam wanted to explore. He stepped over to the bed, closer to Dean and looked down at him, trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject. He knew that if he didn’t do this right, then it would just start an argument and nothing would happen. “Dean…”
“Let’s not and say we did, Sam,” Dean replied, cutting Sam off before he even got a chance. “Let’s just not go there.” Dean’s knuckles were whiting out as he gripped the bedspread.
Sam swallowed. He didn’t want to let this go. He couldn’t. “But…”
“Drop it, Sam!” Dean snapped. Then his voice dropped back down, low and soft as he added, “Please?”
Sam’s chest hurt. He’d had a moment where he’d been able to see what he’d always wanted-see what it would be like if Dean wanted him back-and now it was being yanked away. He was supposed to act like it had never even happened. Sam sat down on the bed beside Dean and stared at the floor. He could almost feel the nervousness rolling off of Dean, tension slamming against Sam like a brick wall. Sam hunched his shoulders against it. “What if I really want to go there?” he asked.
“Goddamn it, Sam…”
“I know what I saw,” Sam said stubbornly. He just had to know. He had to know…if he had a chance or not.
“You don’t know shit,” Dean shot back. “You don’t know everything, Sam, so stop pretending that you do!”
Sam ignored the bait that Dean was tossing at him. “I saw you kissing me-a guy that looked like me-and it looked like you liked it…”
Dean turned to glare at Sam, his jaw set firm. “Yes,” he bit out. “Yes, I liked it. Is that what you want to hear, Sam? I thought it was you on top of me and I fucking liked it.” Dean pushed himself to his feet as his voice got louder. “Are you fucking happy, now? Can we fucking drop it?”
“No,” Sam replied, his heart clenching painfully because he was close-so close-and it was likely that he was about to throw himself off a cliff. He’d never had the choice not to, though. As soon as he seen his dreams become a reality, there’d been no choice for him. “I can’t fucking drop it, Dean. Because I liked it, too.”
Dean stared at him, paling. “You…”
Sam dove off head first. While Dean sat frozen with shock, Sam leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the lips that he’d fantasized about since he was thirteen years old, claiming them back from the monster that had pretended to be him. The monster that Dean had kissed back because he’d thought that it had been Sam… Sam would have better luck pretending that the sky was green than to pretend that he hadn’t seen that, that he hadn’t wished that it was him.
For a few long seconds, it was just the press of Sam’s lips against Dean’s-chaste and unmoving as Sam counted his heartbeats. One, two, three, four… And then Dean was kissing him back, unrestrained and making Sam fight for each little inch. His hands rose to bracket Sam’s face, holding him, and Sam’s heart skipped a beat. Dean was kissing him. Dean was actually kissing him…
Sam pushed Dean flat and crawled overtop of him, set on claiming every inch of Dean that he could, marking with his fingers and his tongue. Dean pulled him forward, warning him quietly to mind the leg but otherwise not protesting the change in positions. Sam wanted to pinch himself, just to make sure, but he wasn’t willing to risk it. He contented himself by deepening the kiss-licking along Dean’s lips and begging for the permission that Dean granted easily.
The loud ringing of the phone startled both of them. Dean shoved Sam off of himself as if someone were breaking down the door instead of calling. Sam just barely caught himself on the edge on the bed, narrowly avoiding face-planting in the cheap carpet. “Sorry,” Dean muttered as he reached for the phone.
Sam glared at the phone and then watched Dean nod his way through the conversation, thinking about just crawling into Dean’s lap and continuing what they’d been just doing.
“Uh, yeah…” Dean said. “Sure, okay.” He looked over at Sam, mouthing the word paper. Sam cocked his head curiously before getting up to snatch a pad off the table. “Yeah, hold on… 67 Crestview?” Dean rolled his eyes up to meet Sam’s again and Sam took the hint, writing down the address. “Yeah, got it.” Dean dropped the phone back into the cradle and rubbed at his forehead. He slid off the bed, standing on his one good ankle and Sam mentally cursed whoever had been on the other side of the line. “Pack up, Sammy. We’re movin’.” He hopped between the double beds out into the open area in the center of the room. Sam was tempted to grab him and force him back onto the bed.
“What? Why?”
Dean hobbled to the table in the corner. “Pipes just burst. Owner’s sending us to another place.”
“It’s not even cold enough to-”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “One more ‘fuck you’…” Sam had to agree. Just like the laptop cord, the pipes bursting had to have been a parting gift from the creature that they were supposed to be hunting.
It seemed more like it was hunting them.
It didn’t hit Sam until after he heard Mrs. Rochester, the owner of the bed and breakfast that he and Dean had moved to, nattering on about how “Kyle is an old friend of ours so we didn’t mind putting up his guests for the night. Shame, shame what happened, you know? And I hear the insurance companies aren’t granting any claims-just like on the cars! That’s why me and my husband use Allstate. They’d never reject one of our claims, no siree! And with that ‘accident forgiveness’ that they have, we wouldn’t even see a jump in our premiums, either, just because of a string of bad luck.”
Walking down the flowered wallpapered hall, Sam nudged Dean with an elbow, directing Dean’s attention away from the portraits of Siamese cats lining the wall, and asked, “Have you had to make any claims lately, Mrs. Rochester?”
“Oh no!” Mrs. Rochester exclaimed, looking back at him. “No, thank the Lord. We’ve been quite fortunate. I mean, the Wilsons’ just had their roof cave-in the other day-same as Kyle!-and Mike Schuster got into that terrible accident-coon in the backseat, what a way to go-but we’ve had no problems. Lord willing, we’ll make it through this year just fine, same as always.” She grabbed the doorknob of number 6 and unlocked it with a long, spindly key. “Well here we are! I’m putting you boys up in number 6 for tonight. It’s only got the one bed-sorry-but it’s a big one and there is a couch. Might be a bit cramped. We just don’t have all the rooms with double beds like Kyle! Not used to using ‘em. We mostly get… Well, we mostly get couples. And I’ve already filled the two rooms that we had, so I hope this will be okay?”
“It’ll do fine,” Sam assured her, smiling. One bed meant…
She dropped the key into his hand. “Oh, good. I hope you boys have a great night and let me know if you need anything!”
“Sure thing,” Dean said with a nod and a grin. Faced with both smiles, old Mrs. Rochester looked a bit torn, swiveling her head between the two of them before giggling like a schoolgirl and heading back down the hall. Dean quirked his eyebrows and hobbled inside the room, flipping on the lights.
The room was decorated in pale pinks and white lace and, as Sam glanced around the room, he could feel whatever sense of manly pride he had shrinking inside of him. Dean stared down at the bed with its ruffled and lacey sheets and then looked over at Sam almost nervously. They hadn’t talked at all in the car on the way over and Sam could feel that new aspect of their connection thrumming between them. He just hoped that Dean wasn’t having second thoughts. Sam cleared his throat and dropped his duffle on the table to unzip it and pull out the insurance reports. He just wanted to check. “So you know how everyone we’ve talked to on this case has complained about their insurance?”
Dean nodded and gently eased himself down on the fluffy bed. “Except for Julie Wallace and her customer testimonial.”
“Right,” Sam replied. “And…” He glanced over at Dean and felt his words dry up in his throat. Dean was absentmindedly running two fingers over the inseam of his jeans, paying attention and distracting Sam at the same time. Sam shook himself. Work came first. It always came first. “And anyone that’s had Allstate.”
Dean snorted. “So, what are you saying? Allstate’s full of devil-worshippers or something? Come on, Sammy, everyone hates insurance companies but…”
Sam flipped through the insurance print-outs. “It’s a pattern, Dean. Look: Progressive, Geico, Nationwide, State Farm, a couple of local agencies-there are a ton from all these different companies but not a one is from Allstate and they’re huge. Don’t you think that means something?” He handed the stack to Dean who rummaged through them himself, frowning.
“…Okay, so maybe there’s a connection. How do we prove it?”
There was the hard part. Sam stared down at Dean. “We have to catch this thing that we’re hunting.”
“Oh, that’s peachy,” Dean said, looking up from the papers. “And, while we’re at it, we can try herding some neighborhood cats. Maybe catch a couple of unicorns.” Sam’s mouth twisted and Dean tossed the papers onto the bed. “We haven’t exactly had much luck in, you know, catching this thing, Sam.” He pointed at his ankle. “Remember?”
Sam nodded. “Sure. But if this thing is something that somebody at that insurance company summoned to cause chaos for their rivals, then there’s a good possibility that it doesn’t want to work for them.”
“So, what? You just want to ask him, ‘Hey, douchebag! How do you feel about Allstate?’ and see if he spills his guts?”
“Something like that, yeah.” Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“Who’re you calling?”
“Bobby,” Sam replied. “See if he knows how to catch something like this.” Dean nodded, looking down at the bed before he got up and hobbled over to the table where the laptop was sitting.
It had taken Bobby about five hours to find an answer for them. Despite Bobby’s initial grumblings about “I have no friggin’ idea!” Sam had known that the old hunter would come through for them. He always did. In the meantime, Dean had managed to dig up some dirt on the CEO of Allstate, finding rumors of scandals involving witchcraft during the CEO’s youth which, when combined with Allstate’s financial printouts-a decline until the accidents started happening then a miraculously sharp rise-was all Sam needed to make him want to turn right around and head to Illinois where Allstate was headquartered.
Dean had fallen asleep about two hours into their wait time and Sam had occupied himself with alternating between researching and watching his brother sleep. Eventually, watching Dean had won out-years, Sam had been waiting-now he just needed this job to be over with-and Sam had stretched out beside Dean, staring at his face.
When Bobby had called a few hours later, it had woken both of them up. “From what you boys are telling me,” Bobby had said, starting in without even so much as a ‘hi,’ “it sounds like an elemental force that’s been shoved into a shape. There are stories of this kind of stuff happening-stuff like Hope embodied because of a spell. Bad things happen if you condense something that’s supposed to be world-wide into a tiny little shell. And this sounds like some damn fool got a hold of Mayhem-Chaos-and now he’s pissed. If this thing is what I think it is, you won’t be able to catch him, but you might distract him long enough to a clue how to stop him. You have to find whoever summoned him and get a hold of their ‘contract’-something or other that is forcing an elemental in a concentrated shape like that. Then get rid of it. Break it, burn it, destroy it-just make sure this thing doesn’t get you first, alright?”
Now armed with a handful of silver trinkets perfumed with the herbs Bobby had proscribed and a couple of back-up plans in case Bobby’s hunch was wrong, Sam and Dean were walking across a park, peering into the darkness that was surrounding them. Sam had seen the suspicious ruffling of trees and so he and Dean had left the Impala behind.
“If this doesn’t work…” Dean started.
“It’ll work.” Sam stared upward at the huge statue in the center of the clearing and wrinkled his brow. The twenty-five foot Viking stared peacefully back.
Dean raised his eyebrows. “Well that’s impressive.” Then he elbowed Sam sharply and pointed just to the right of the statue. “There,” he whispered.
Directly beside the statue, leaning against it, was the beat-up form of the bum. He looked to be…pushing. Sam pulled the silver out of his pocket and cautiously moved closer, trying to sneak up on the creature in the darkness. As they neared the podium that the statue was sitting on, they could hear laughter as the creature chuckled to himself.
The laughter cut off as the creature jerked his head up and started to scent the air and his eyes turned unerringly to Sam and Dean. He smiled like a wolf and stood up straight as he jumped down from the platform. “The night’s a dangerous place,” he said, prowling towards them. “And neither one of you has insurance.” Sam held the silver trinkets out and the creature’s eyes locked on them.
“Brought you a present,” Dean said, picking up a bracelet and jingling it. “How about you come and get it?”
The creature stared, mesmerized and slunk closer, his human-looking face taking on a decidedly inhuman appearance as his nostrils flared. “…Give it to me.” He held his hands out, fingers curled upward.
Sam drew back his arm, holding it against his chest. “An exchange,” he proposed. “You can have it if you tell us why you’re here.”
Rolling his eyes, the man slipped closer. “I’ve always been here,” he said dismissively. “I’m Mayhem.” Bobby had been right. “Now give it to me.”
“Not good enough,” Dean replied. His hand was resting on his gun-an instinctive move and not a threat because if the creature-Mayhem as he said-in front of them really was an element, then the gun wouldn’t do any good.
“You already know and I’m not allowed to tell you.” The man’s teeth flashed white in the darkness. “Not in my contract. I’d really like to burn it, but, well…”
Sam cocked his head. “So where do you keep your contract?”
Mayhem licked his lips, pausing like he was trying to decide if this was against the rules or not. “In his office,” he finally said. “The book, too. I’d burn both of them.” The man hissed and darted forward-to quick for Sam to follow-snatching the trinkets out of Sam’s hand. He wrestled with Dean for control of the bracelet and then ran off, zipping into the surrounding trees.
Dean had pulled his gun, aiming it at the fleeing creature but he didn’t fire, just swore as Mayhem ducked out of sight. “So much for the bait,” he growled.
Sam shook his head. “He told us where to go. He said that we already knew.”
Holstering his gun, Dean glanced over at Sam. “You mean Illinois and that crazy, antique-shopping CEO guy?”
“Yeah.” Sam was positive that Mayhem had told them that-and done it deliberately, too. “He wants us to go burn his contract.”
Dean shrugged. “Let’s go set some shit on fire, then.” Sam nodded and turned to head back to the Impala.
A loud crack echoed through the clearing and Sam turned around just in time to see the Viking-Big Ole-pull free of its setting and start to fall right towards them. Sam shoved Dean to the side, then turned him and dragged him a few more feet before the statue came crashing down. Dean panted at Sam’s side, staring at the fallen Viking, before he snarled. “Fucking douchebag.”
The drive to Illinois really should have taken them over eight hours. With Dean behind the wheel, it probably would have taken them just over five. With Sam driving and Dean nagging, however, they made it in six and a half. They’d parked the Impala a couple of blocks away and Sam tried hard not to think about the fact that he was breaking into an insurance building at four in the morning.
Dean was rummaging through the overly large desk of the top floor office, not even trying to be subtle as he emptied out entire drawers. Sam didn’t say anything, though, because they were running out of time. He just kept searching through the multitude of black filing cabinets that lined the walls. “He said that it was in the office, right?” Dean growled.
Sam nodded and slammed a drawer shut, pulling out the one under it. “Yeah,” he said, briefly pulling the flashlight out of his mouth.
Grumbling to himself, Dean knelt down to pick another lock. They didn’t have the slightest clue what the contract would look like. Sam was just hoping that it would be located in a file conveniently marked “Demonic Spells” or something.
Dean dumped the entire drawer onto the floor, pawing through it before sighing. “He’s probably got it in some hidden safe or something, Sam. We’re never going to find it.”
“Dean-” Sam turned towards him but Dean was crawling towards his duffle bag, apparently not wanting to expend the energy to get to his feet at the moment.
“It’s time for Plan B,” Dean said, rifling through the bag.
“Plan B?” Sam slammed the cabinet shut again-after all, alphabetically, he was already in the Ps and thus a long way away from D for demonic or M for Mayhem-and moved to peer over Dean’s shoulder.
Dean crowed as he held up a tightly wrapped brick and Sam’s eyes widened. “No,” he said. “No, Dean we can’t-”
“Why not?” Dean said. “Building’s empty and they got insurance don’t they?”
Sam didn’t know how to explain this one. “Dean, we can’t just bomb the building with C4! We have to…have to…” Sam didn’t know what they had to do-it was obvious that they couldn’t find the contract or the book-but he was pretty sure that it didn’t involve blowing up an entire building.
Dean solemnly handed Sam the brick but his eyes were betraying him: they were dancing with excitement. “Blowing up a building’s a lot better than all the people the dickwad of a CEO’s injured. If we don’t stop it, Sam, it’s just going to keep getting worse and what happens with Mayhem goes a little too far and somebody dies? Dies because we couldn’t find a stupid piece of paper in an office?” Sam’s moral resolve wavered. When Dean put it like that… “Exactly,” Dean said. “Now go plant this stuff. We’ve got a building to blow up.”
No matter what complaints Sam might have about Dean, he could never say that Dean didn’t give his all when finding a solution for a problem. Dean didn’t believe in doing anything by halves so, just in case there was a chance that the C4 would just blow up the office and not actually burn the document in question, they’d doused the entire room in lighter fluid before sneaking back out of the building and heading down the block. “You ready?” Dean looked entirely too excited to be holding the detonator, like a kid on Christmas as he alternated between looking at Sam and back at the building. Sam wanted to tell him that C4 was a lot of money but Dean already knew that-that was why they’d stolen it. Instead, he sighed and dropped the two-way radio transceiver down from his mouth, having successfully lured the two security guards outside. And he nodded.
The top floor of the building exploded, the brick and the glass shattering outward as it became engulfed in flame. Car alarms triggered and no doubt the police and the fire department were already on their way but it was too late. Allstate Corporate Headquarters was a goner for sure.
Sam tore his eyes away from the bright flame to look over at Dean and his breath caught in his throat. Standing right beside Dean was none other than Mayhem, looking just as scuffed and dirty as ever. But he was grinning as he stared at the building. “It’s so beautiful,” he said, a hint of glee in his dark voice.
Dean jerked away, stumbling into Sam as his crutches clattered onto the ground. “Jesus,” he swore, catching himself on Sam’s coat. Mayhem grinned at the both of them.
“Gotta say, I like your style.” He wasn’t looking as solid as before-thin and wispy like he was fading away, disappearing. Like since the contract was burning up, he couldn’t hold a corporeal form anymore. He winked at them and then he was gone, dissolved into the air.
Dean grunted, swaying on his one good leg, his fist still tightly clenched in Sam’s jacket. “Still a douchebag,” he said. Sam just shook his head and bent down to grab Dean’s crutches.
“Let’s get out of here.” The fire blazed behind them, eating away at what had once been the headquarters of Allstate, as they ambled slowly away, Dean on his crutches and Sam walking slow to allow him to keep up. Somewhere in the distance, they could hear the telltale sounds of sirens.
By the time that they checked into a motel outside of Huntley, their little foray into the world of arson was already splashed on the morning news. Dean-sprawled out across the pale green bedspread-was watching a perky blonde chatter about it on TV as Sam laid the salt lines. Exhaustion was fast catching up with Sam-with both of them, actually-but safety always came first.
“A fire destroyed a corporate headquarters this morning in Northbrook. Police are calling the fire ‘suspicious’ and are looking into the source of the blaze-” The TV flipped off with a quiet blip, leaving the room in silence. When Sam glanced over at Dean to see what was going on, Dean was staring back at him. Dean’s eyes slowly traveled over Sam’s body and Sam was suddenly wide and awake and remembering that he and Dean had done much more than burn down a corporate headquarters or meet Mayhem in the flesh. So much more. Maybe not for according to the rest of the world, but to Sam…
Sam quietly finished the last line of salt across the window and moved to stand beside Dean’s bed, waiting for a sign from Dean that it was okay-that now that everything was said and done and they weren’t on the job or running for their lives and Dean finally had time to think, that they could still do this. Sam knew that it was too late for him to have second thoughts-those were already long gone but for Dean… For Dean, he just didn’t know.
When Dean lazily dropped his eyes to Sam’s crotch and slowly licked his lips, Sam had his answer. Hardly daring to breathe, Sam pulled off his shirt and kneeled on the bed, still quietly waiting to see how far Dean was willing to take this. Dean pulled off his own shirt and settled back against the bed, his finger repeatedly curling upward in invitation. Sam obediently came closer, crawling closer to where Dean was laying on the pillows. With the TV off, the only sound in the room was the slow buzz of the old heater and the harshness of their own breathing. Sam shivered and decided not to talk. He didn’t want to risk it.
He carefully moved over Dean’s body, straddling his hips and watching the heat rise in Dean’s eyes before he bent his head and pressed a gentle kiss against Dean’s lips.
Dean’s hand clamped into place, fingers threading through Sam’s hair as he forced Sam closer, his mouth already parting in welcome. Sam gave into the quiet demand and ran his hand along Dean’s smooth, bare chest as his tongue slipped between Dean’s lips to swirl inside. Dean’s hips rolled underneath of Sam, rocking Dean’s cock against Sam’s and forcing a small whimper of need out of Sam.
This was Dean-Dean beneath him, wanting him; Dean encouraging Sam to do more. After years of denying the possibility, here it was, all laid out in front of Sam, Dean all but begging for Sam to reach out and take. Sam’s hands reached up and cupped Dean’s face as he tried to reassure himself that this was really happening-that this wasn’t just a dream or wishful thinking.
Dean responded by running his own hands down the length of Sam’s chest and dipping beneath his waistband. Sam’s hips bucked and then he was scrambling to unzip his pants, get them off and do the same to Dean’s. As soon as Sam’s pants were loose enough, Dean’s hands slipped inside, his finger massaging over Sam’s hard cock, still trapped in his underwear. Sam moaned into Dean’s mouth and slid his own hands inside of Dean’s jeans, fingers teasing at the soft fabric of Dean’s boxers as Dean’s dick twitched towards him. Sam dug in, his fingers wrapping around the hardening length of Dean’s dick.
“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean whispered, turning his head to gasp before coming back, kissing the side of Sam’s face and nipping at the line of his jaw. He panted as his hand began to stroke and Sam groaned. Dean’s hand felt good on him-it was an awkward angle and Dean couldn’t get any speed but Sam was about to come just from the fact that it was Dean that was touching him. Sam rolled his hips, keeping in time with Dean’s short pulls, and ran his lips over Dean’s shoulder as he pulled Dean out of his underwear and began to return the favor.
More than just arousal was shaking Sam’s body-fatigue was creeping up on him, making his muscles tremor despite the fact that his wildest dream was coming true. To try and save himself for the end, Sam rolled and collapsed onto his side-it allowed him to get a better grip on Dean as well and Dean made it worth his while with a sharp hiss and an upsurge of his hips.
“Yeah,” Dean said before turning his head to catch Sam’s lips in another kiss. He’d wrapped his hand more firmly around Sam, his fingers running smooth over Sam’s sensitive skin as his thumb teased at the slit. Sam shivered-he wasn’t going to last long at all. He was too tired and too keyed up.
A few more pulls and Sam’s body was shuddering with his orgasm, his dick pulsing in Dean’s hand and making a mess out of Dean’s chest. Sam’s hips jerked hard, slamming up into Dean’s grip one last time before what was left of his energy leeched out of him and he was left lying limp against the bed, too worn out to move besides the easy glide of his hand on Dean. His eyes opened lazily to meet Dean’s tightly shut ones as Dean mouthed unspoken words of encouragement. Sam took a deep, shaky breath and then glanced downward. Dean’s dick was sliding quickly in and out of Sam’s fist-half because of Sam’s lazy motion and half because of the rhythmic motions of Dean’s hips. Sam eyed the puddles of white now cooling on Dean’s skin and-unthinkingly-he reached out and wiped some up with his fingers before bringing it back to rub against Dean’s cock-easing the motion with the slickness of his come.
Dean’s teeth sank into his bottom lip and his back arched as he came, his hips losing their rhythm and his breathing growing rough with a slight whine at the end of each exhale. Sam found he liked it and tried to devote himself to wringing out even louder noises from Dean until finally shoved him away. “Fuck, stop,” he whispered with a shudder. He flopped against the bed, drained.
They laid there, side by side in the darkness of the motel room, the hoarse rattle of their shallow panting echoing through the silence. Sam waited, his heart thumping wildly, expecting Dean to comment on what they’d just done. All he got was silence.
After awhile, Sam finally broke it. “Dean?” he asked quietly. Dean jerked beside him and Sam suddenly realized that Dean had just been sleeping. Not that he could blame him. Sam blinked furiously, trying to fight back his own weariness. “Dean?”
Dean stirred, turning more onto his side to peer at Sam with one blurry eye. “What?” he asked. He scrubbed at his face with the back of his hand before apparently realizing where that hand had just been and wiping it on his jeans. God, they hadn’t even gotten undressed all the way. Sam stared at him in the dark.
“Are…are we going to talk about this?” They had to, right? This was major. This was serious. You didn’t do something like, oh, jerk off your brother without talking about it, right? And, more importantly, was Sam going to get the chance to do it again?
“No,” Dean said, leaving Sam still confused, with a tiny bit of fear unfurling in his gut. If Dean didn’t want to talk about it, did that mean that… Dean sighed. “Just go to sleep, Sam. We’re just fine.”
Sam frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you’re fine and I’m fine and we’re fine,” Dean replied shortly. “Now go to sleep.” He rolled over onto his back and made a half-abortive attempt to roll onto his side before thinking better of it because of the swollen gauze that was masquerading as his ankle.
For Dean, the conversation was obviously over but Sam couldn’t just leave it at that. He tentatively rubbed his knuckles against Dean’s side-oddly shy now considering what they had just done. “And this?” he asked. “Is this fine?”
Dean snorted. “Fucked-up is what it is, Sam.” Sam’s heart gave a painful squeeze, wondering if Dean was saying what he thought that he was. “…Which puts us on track for us. Now shut the fuck up and cuddle or whatever it is you want to do and sleep.”
Sam froze, not really daring to believe what he was hearing. “So, we’re…”
“…doing this,” Dean finished, his eyes still closed. “Yeah. I guess we are.”
Dean didn’t fight Sam when Sam wrapped his arms around him besides a sleepy complaint to ‘mind the damn leg’ and Sam’s heart sped up as he carefully curled himself around Dean’s body. He rested his hand against Dean’s chest, just feeling the steady beat of Dean’s heart, confirming that he was real-that he was alive-and a surge of giddiness zipped through Sam. Brothers didn’t do this sort of thing-not normal ones-but he and Dean had never been ‘normal.’ They’d known that for years. Dean stirred sleepily and placed a hand over Sam’s wrist, holding him in place and Sam took a deep, steadying breath.
Outside, the wind was starting to howl with another oncoming storm and Sam smiled at the noise. The world outside was about to be wracked again with the wrath of the White Queen but, inside, safe beside Dean, Sam felt warm.
The mayhem around them could do its worst.
Part I | Part II | Art Post
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