The Golden Nugget 2/2 (Sam/OFCs, Sam/Dean, NC-17)
The Golden Nugget, Part 2
(part 1 is here)
****
Sam woke up early, jolting awake with a sense of dread. Dean was still there though, thank god, sleeping soundly on his stomach only inches away, and the uneasy feeling faded away. Sam watched him sleep for a while, cataloging all of those things that made Dean unique, from his freckles to the few scars he had already managed to collect after Hell, passing over his well-defined muscles and the strands of gold in his brown hair. Sam had watched so many times before, but for the first time it was as if he had implicit permission to do it, and this time Sam didn't feel the usual guilt when he slowly got hard doing so. He noted Dean’s change in breathing as soon as it happened, signaling that he was waking up.
Without even opening his eyes first, Dean frowned and asked, "Dude, are you staring again?"
He had his answer as he opened his eyes and met Sam's.
"Yep."
Dean twisted until he was on his back and threw his forearm across his face, blocking the morning light.
"Creepy," he mumbled, but it lacked any bite.
The white sheets stopped below Dean's navel and Sam considered the fine trail of hair disappearing under it, longed to follow it with his fingers.
"You're gorgeous. I can't help it."
Dean huffed and shook his head, his face still hidden, but Sam smiled at the faint flush that appeared.
"Not a girl, dude. No need to sweet talk me. Not that, you know, you'd actually remember what to do with a girl."
Sam laughed.
"That's rich coming from the very guy who knows perfectly well that he cock blocked me last night."
Dean grunted in reticent agreement. There was too much talking about sex and not enough action, Sam thought. He had been watching for a while, after all, and was ready for more. Since it was obvious that Dean wasn’t going to initiate anything at the moment, he made a move, rolling on top of Dean and staying there looking down, propped on his forearms. Dean tensed, arm flying off his face to grip at Sam's bicep, his eyes round and surprised. He looked strangely vulnerable, so Sam smiled and kissed him unhurriedly.
"Hi."
Now that they were skin to skin, Sam could feel that Dean was just as hard as he was. After a series of rapid blinks, Dean relaxed back on his pillow, breathing unsteadily. He glanced away, then fixed his eyes back on Sam's.
"Hi yourself. Huh… still think this is a good idea?"
Sam nodded and ground down, and the incredible sensation of their two erections sliding along each other made Dean gasp and reflexively move with it.
"Totally sure, Dean. You?"
The answer came in the form of a kiss, Dean pulling him down and arching up at the same time. It was demanding and a bit desperate, and it made everything inside of Sam warm up until it burned hot and bright. The want was thrumming under his skin, and their slick-sliding motions were more than good but still not enough to quench it. Sam broke the kiss, panting.
"I need... I want..."
Dean's hands were skidding, groping and scratching everywhere he could reach as he was writhed under Sam, humping up for more friction.
"Anything, Sammy. Anything."
Sam wanted so much. He wanted everything, wanted to get under Dean's skin just as much as Dean was branded into his. Sam sucked hard on Dean's pulse point, knowing he would leave a mark, and Dean moaned when he realized it too.
"I want to make you mine. I… I wanna fuck you..."
Dean arched up again at that, brought his thighs up, opening wide, offering himself without any shame.
"Yeah, do it, Sam, fuck me. C’mon."
It made Sam's head spin, just the idea of it. He reached down, pulled on his own cock to gather some pre-come on his fingers, groaning at the sensation and then brought the slick to Dean's hole. He tried to take his time fingering Dean and stretching him properly, but Dean wouldn't stop moving, forcing himself onto Sam's fingers faster than was probably comfortable.
"Jesus, slow down. I don't want..."
Dean's hips snapped forward again, pushing against him, greedy.
"Not hurting, come on. C’mon, I'm dying here, fuck me!"
Sam looked around, didn't see anything he could use as lube, although there was probably something in the bathroom.
"I don’t have anything..."
"What did I just say? Spit will do, s'okay."
Fast and urgent was awesome, but this was a bit out of control. But there was just no way that he was getting out of bed now - not even for a minute - when he could fuck Dean in the next two seconds, Sam did as he was told and spat in his hand, spreading it on his cock and hoping it wouldn’t hurt too much. He grumbled as he lined up.
"You asked for it..."
"Yeah, I did. COME ON. Get your giant dick in me already."
Sam laughed as he started to push in, bending down to kiss Dean.
"You're incredible."
Clearly, Sam didn't go as fast as Dean wanted, because suddenly he surged forward and twisted, flipping Sam on his back and landing on top, a surprising change in the situation, yes, but not a problem at all. Sam laughed again.
"Bossy much?"
Dean grinned and sat up, added his own spit to Sam's which should not have been sexy at all but it undoubtedly was and besides, it felt awesome.
"You'd never get the job done."
Sure enough, when he lowered himself onto Sam's cock he went far faster than Sam would ever have dared, enveloping Sam’s cock in tight scorching heat. It felt even more incredible than Sam thought possible, especially with the added visual of Dean on display above him, gleaming in the morning light and looking unbelievably hot. It took all of Sam's control to stop himself from grabbing him by the hips and starting to thrust, because even with all of Dean's bravado, it was obviously not easy or pain-free. Almost halfway, Dean fell forward and rested his forehead on Sam's collarbone, panting.
"Dean, if it's too..."
"Shut up, I just need a sec."
Sam ran his hands over Dean's flanks and back. He tried to stay still, hoping it would get better soon because he needed to move. Dean took a deep breath and started to rock a little back and forth, an excruciating tease.
"Let me go get some..."
"You're not going anywhere. It's okay, I just..."
Dean moved a bit more and suddenly groaned in a definitely pleasurable way. He looked up at Sam and his eyes were shining.
"There we are." He moved in the same way again and his eyes shut and his mouth opened. "Yeah. Okay."
Dean must have found a way to rub on his sweet spot; after a couple of seconds Sam could feel him relaxing slightly and the rocking became more pronounced. Dean sat up and slowly let himself sink all the way down, sheathing Sam completely and seizing him in a vise-like grip.
"You feel so fucking good," Sam whispered, ghosting his fingertips over his brother's chest, taking time to outline the pentagram in the tattoo, lightly rubbing his nipples. Dean moaned at that and finally started to move up and down, fucking himself on Sam, carefully at first, but with more and more force and speed as it became easier. The only thing Sam could do was to hold Dean’s hips and hang on. Never in his entire life had Sam seen anything more beautiful than Dean riding him, head thrown back in pleasure. Even in ordinary situations Dean was sex incarnate, but in the act itself he was just overwhelming. Sam knew he wasn’t going to last. He could already feel his orgasm building steadily, sending tingles all over his body.
"Fuck, Dean,” he gasped. “So great."
Groaning, Dean braced himself on Sam's shoulders and slammed his hips down harder.
"Yeah, yeah. C'mon Sam, don't let me do all the work here. Gimme more. Fuck me, dammit."
Planting his feet firmly on the bed, Sam tightened his hold on Dean's hips. If he wanted more, he'd get more, and he’d get it hard and fast.
"That what you want?"
"Yeah."
When Dean tried to slide up, Sam stopped him, pinning him down, stopping everything.
"If you want it, you'll have to touch yourself."
Dean tried to force his way up but Sam was holding tight, hard enough to bruise. It made Dean curse, frustrated.
"Dammit, Sam, just... move!"
"Touch yourself."
"Jesus! And you say I'm bossy."
Even if he shook his head no, Dean did it just the same, started stroking his cock, the sweep of his fingers eased by precome. It was a sight to behold, and it turned Sam's crank up to fifteen on a one to ten scale, way, way better that that one time he had spied on Dean through a crack in his bedroom door when he was masturbating.
Satisfied that Dean had done what he said, Sam let him move, only to meet him on the down stroke with a snap up of his own, starting to buck up into Dean in earnest - short, hard jerks, shoving Dean down at the same time. Great was not even in the same metaphoric universe of how good that was. His brother tried to keep pace, but it was too much for him and in the end Dean just let himself be manhandled and thoroughly fucked, panting and moaning, stripping his cock roughly now. Sam gritted his teeth, holding onto the last of his control with all his might.
"C'mon, c'mon,” he growled. “I want to feel you come. I want to see you come on me."
Dean gasped and his eyes rolled back in his head as he let go, clamping around Sam’s cock and spurting ropes of come onto his stomach with a loud shout. It was asking too much for Sam to resist falling over the edge himself, and with two or three hard, perfect thrusts, and with Dean still rippling around him, Sam’s orgasm ripped through him like a hurricane. For a few blessed seconds it felt like it would never end, and then he came out of it, exhausted and boneless, barely able to protest when Dean fell forward with all his weight and a hard head-butt to his shoulder. It felt like Sam’s heart was about to burst with the force with which it was pounding against his rib cage, and he focused on trying to slow down his breathing.
Dean was the first to talk. "Holy shit."
That made Sam chuckle, although he winced to see Dean's obvious discomfort as he dismounted only to flop onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Not wanting any distance yet, Sam rapidly mopped his stomach with the sheets and turned onto his side towards Dean, who automatically stretched out his arm to give him a place to cuddle on his chest. Sam threw a leg over Dean's and scooted close, letting his fingers trace idle patterns over his brother’s skin.
"Not bad," Sam admitted, and this time it was Dean who laughed.
"Yeah. Not bad at all. You know, Sam, you should be prosecuted for denying the world of your mad sex skills for the last, oh, three years or so. Jesus."
Shrugging, Sam thought that it wasn’t important what had come before, just what would come next.
"Bah, I was too busy pining for you."
He felt Dean's breathing pause slightly at that, and it was followed by soft carding of his hair that would have made Sam purr if he had been able to do so. He put an arm around Dean's waist and held him close. His brother's voice was soft.
"Really?"
"Really. For as long as I can remember. That was the main reason I left for Stanford. And why I asked Ellen for a gig on my own, so I could try to find my footing again."
He felt a kiss on the top of his head.
"I didn't know."
"Well, I had no clue about you either."
Dean sighed dramatically.
"So many opportunities for great sex wasted."
It made Sam grin and he licked Dean's nipple, feeling his shudder.
"We'll have to take measures to rectify that situation."
"And I say we should start now. In the shower," Dean agreed enthusiastically.
Now that it was directed towards him, Sam had less of a problem coping with Dean's seemingly insatiable sex drive, but he didn't feel like moving just yet and something that had been nagging at the back of his mind finally came forward.
"In a minute. Just... Why did you ask what I was doing in Vegas last night?"
"I thought you'd wait for me at the Roadhouse, that's all. You weren't there and... well, I got your phone tracked again and it brought me here."
There was something that didn't quite fit in there. Sam tried to stretch back to look at Dean's face, but his brother turned with him, positioning himself on top again and starting to kiss down Sam’s chest. Sam's dick twitched as Dean did wicked things with his tongue to Sam’s nipples.
"Not important anyway," Dean added. He was steadily making his way downward, biting and licking and Sam started to suspect it was a diversion tactic.
"Why didn't you ask Ellen?"
Dean was totally playing dirty, sucking at Sam’s hip bone.
"She wouldn’t tell me."
That made sense, since Sam had pretty much begged for time alone. He was about to let it go and surrender to Dean's onslaught when he frowned.
"How did you find my room then?"
If Ellen had not told Dean where he was, Dean surely didn't know his current over-the-top James Fleming alias.
Dean softly blew on Sam's slowly hardening cock.
"New GPS tracking on the phone is friggin’ precise. It’s really awesome. Now shut up if you want me to give you a hand job."
As tempting as it was, Sam knew an outright lie when he heard one. He leaned up on an elbow and took Dean by the jaw to make him look into his eyes. Dean stared back, but in that very slightly defiant way that he had when he was trying to hide a lie with an honest stare.
"Bullshit. How did you find me?"
"I told you, the phone. I could show you."
Sam scowled, and Dean looked a tad less confident.
"My regular phone isn’t even in this room, Dean, it's in the garage. I forgot it in the car, that's why I missed your calls."
Blinking, Dean realized that he was caught.
"Ah. Well, yeah, the GPS brought me to the casino and I asked around. A giant freak like you isn’t that hard to find."
An outright lie again, of that Sam was sure. Anger started to rise, and fast.
"Are you lying to my face, Dean? Better come clean now, because I swear to god, if I..."
"Okay, okay! Shit Sam, I... I got Ash to give me a chip for you."
The enormity of it made Sam's mind boggle. He wasn’t even sure he had heard right.
"A what?"
Dean flushed and stammered.
"A - a chip. A tracking device, with my phone, I..."
"You bugged me?"
Sam realized that he was shouting, and Dean looked miserable.
"Come on, Sam! I'm sorry! I didn't use it a lot, but I got scared shitless when Castiel threatened to take care of you himself if I couldn't keep you in check. I had to be able to keep track of you. And you weren't talking to me much, slipping away every chance you got, and I was desperate, okay?"
That was the truth, obviously, and the anger left Sam in a rush. He flopped back down on the bed in befuddlement.
"That is... Dean, I have no words." Dean was caressing his thighs, kissing Sam's stomach softly. Shaking his head, Sam declared. "It needs to go. I'm not a pet, Dean."
Dean hummed.
"'Course." He then nuzzled near Sam's crotch and that made Sam sigh.
"Dean, sex is not a way to avoid a conversation."
"It's an awesome way to avoid a conversation."
As tempting as it was, he could not let Dean get away with it and make his apologies with sex. Sam had to be firm... in a different way.
"No. Stop it. I'm going to take a shower."
Sighing, Dean lay on the bed next to Sam, stretching out on his belly and hitting the pillow a bit to make it just right.
"You're so totally going to use the withholding of sex as a weapon. I protest, man. Girl tactic."
Sam had to fight a smile.
"Be good and you'll get treats."
"Dude, not a pet either."
Sam slapped Dean's ass, which produced a very satisfactory yelp of surprise, and then stood up.
"Oh, I know. But you owe me, big time. We’ve got work to do, though. You’ll make it up to me later."
It took a lot of self-restraint, but Sam made it to the bathroom without looking back at the temptation lying in his bed. Oh, Dean was going to pay for this with tons of sex indeed, but on Sam's terms.
***
When Sam came out of the shower, he found Dean sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed with the case file spread around him. Dean looked up, his eyes lingering on Sam's naked chest for a beat, then looked down at the papers on the bed and tapped his finger on a picture.
"I bet Benny here is our bitter Casper."
"Benny Lister? Yeah, he tops my list too."
"Tons of trouble even when alive, won a poker tournament only to slip in the shower later that night while completely drunk. It fits the MO."
"Ellen had someone salt and burn his remains in Dallas six months ago, but the accidents didn’t stop."
Sam put on his new black dress pants, then a white shirt with French cuffs that was maybe a bit tight around the shoulders, even though it was brand new. The girl at the boutique had said it was made to fit like that, though. He turned to the bed when Dean didn't answer to discover that was because he was too busy staring at Sam.
"Huh. What? Something wrong?"
Dean tilted his head to the side.
"Not at all." He gestured in the direction of Sam's crotch. "You sure you don't want to mess around? Offer still stands."
Sam laughed and pointed to the bathroom.
"I said later. Go get cleaned up and I'll take you to see the sharks."
"The what?" Dean frowned in confusion.
"Downstairs, at the pool. There's a shark tank right next to girls in bikinis, you'll love it."
The grin he got at that was like a kid on Christmas morning.
"Awesome!"
"I'll even buy you breakfast. Get up."
Literally leaping out of bed, Dean made a bee line for the shower.
"Gimme five."
***
Okay, so it was maybe a bit embarrassing to eat breakfast at a buffet with Dean. Sam knew that, had known it for years, but today his brother had piled his plate with a mountain of food and was moaning outrageously around forks full of eggs and bacon and pancakes, just to try to rile Sam up. Sam let it be, thinking he'd just make him pay later.
When they finally made it to the pool (which was definitely more than impressive with the shark tank and a three-story waterfall), Dean's jaw dropped.
"That is so cool."
Sharks and Dean went a long way back. He had always been fascinated with the beasts, insisting on watching every documentary ever filmed on them. Sam didn't even want to know how many times he had seen Jaws.
It was so rare to see Dean totally carefree and happy that Sam elbowed him.
"Wanna go take a swim, see them up close?"
The suggestion was rewarded by of those grins that lit up Dean's whole face.
"Hell, yeah!"
Sam smiled back, fished out his wallet and took a thousand dollars out that he gave to Dean, who frowned.
"Not that I’m protesting, but what's this for?"
Rolling his eyes, Sam gestured up and down Dean's body, pointing at the jeans and t-shirt.
"This is not appropriate swimming gear, and no, you can’t just go nude. Plus you'll need something nice when we investigate the casino tonight, so you might as well get that at the same time. There’s a store in front of the cafe."
Dean took the bills, and gave Sam a mock salute.
"Good thinking. And I'm starting to like being your bitch."
Sam shoved him with a snort.
"Come on, smartass, get going and we’ll meet back here. My trunks are upstairs."
***
There were quite a lot people at the pool for a late November morning. Of course, for the locals 80F wasn't hot enough to warrant a swim, but the hotel was full of tourists who weren't deterred by that at all. After a little while Sam got bored and decided to take a lap around the shark tank. When he completed his tour, he saw Dean dressed in red swim trunks, chatting up several hot girls in bikinis lounging in the pool chairs. They were making flirtatious eyes at him, although one just seemed mesmerized by the hand print burned onto Dean's shoulder.
Before Sam even had the time to wonder how that made him feel, he noticed the signs Dean was making as he talked: a hand about six inches over his head, then opening them wide sideways before tapping on his tattoo. Looking for him, then. It made Sam smile.
He swam towards the little group and Dean finally spotted him just before he reached the step between the deep part of the pool and the shallow end where the chairs were. The girls were already forgotten, if Dean's heated stare was any indication, and Sam couldn't help his victorious thought of 'Mine, bitches.'
Sam waded out of the water until he stood in the ankle deep part of the pool. He was slicking his wet hair out of his eyes, which explained why he didn't see Dean charging him with a full-body tackle that made him fall backwards into the deep water again with his brother on top, surprising the hell out of him and almost drowning him in the process. Sam sputtered and coughed, managing to gulp some air when he finaly surfaced next to a laughing Dean.
"You asshole! Not funny!" he seethed. Dean didn't come any closer, but he looked as mischievous as Sam had ever seen him.
"Totally funny!" Then he added, lower. "Besides, I had to hide the instant boner I popped seeing you all wet in those skimpy blue trunks. Jesus, those should be illegal!"
There was no way to stay mad after that. Sam smiled and lured Dean closer.
"Oh yeah? Come here and show me."
Clearly the lack of blood to the brain was making Dean more trustful, because he did get within close enough reach for Sam to catch his shoulder and then violently dunk him underwater and then it was his turn to laugh and for Dean to sputter. To avoid more vicious attacks, Sam swam away towards the sharks, hoping they would distract Dean. He stopped with his back to the tank, hands in front of himself to keep Dean at bay. He was clearly plotting his revenge, eyes half opened and treading water just out of reach. He looked as dangerous as the sharks on the other side of the glass.
"You deserved that and you know it, Dean!"
"That was a low blow, bro. You're gonna pay."
"I say we're even. Let's make a truce. C'mon. Come here for real."
Dean squinted.
"If this is a trick to dunk me again, I'll retract all offers of blowjobs. Ever."
Sam crossed his heart.
"I swear, not a trick."
There was a little ledge on the side of the tank and Sam used it to keep his balance as he lifted his hands in surrender. Cautious, Dean approached and Sam didn't move, even if he expected Dean to push him underwater any second. Sam would reciprocate then, if it came to that. It took a little while, but Dean finally reached him, treading mere inches away. Sam bent his head forward to kiss him softly on the lips.
"Truce."
Dean moved in and kissed Sam the same way.
"Okay. Truce."
It was highly tempting to gather Dean in his arms and kiss him like he really wanted to, but their little games had attracted the attention of several people who already looked taken aback by a peck on the lips. Sam pointed to the sharks behind him.
"Look! There's a water slide that goes through the tank. Wanna try it?"
It had the intended results, and Dean gaped.
"Whoa! Of course! I'll race you there!"
Off he went, Sam just behind. They climbed fast to the third floor and then had to wait for their turn before sliding down. It was a bit surreal, to slide through a glass tube in the midst of bloodthirsty beasts but Dean's whoops of joy were totally worth it. Sam stayed in the water as Dean ran up again several times, coming down the slide on his belly to dive in the pool.
Sam found it impossible to take his eyes off Dean for long. How someone could be so lucky to be as gorgeous as Dean was, Sam had never known. The body, the eyes, the lips: every part of him was beautiful, but taken together the effect was simply breathtaking. Sam could see the eyes of several people following Dean around, girls and guys alike, some with desire and others with jealousy.
He had to stop that train of thought, though, because if he got a hard-on now it would be absolutely impossible to hide in this bathing suit. But he wanted Dean, and soon too, so when he caught his brother's eyes he signaled him to come closer.
"What is it, Sammy?"
"Follow me."
Sam got out of the pool, grabbed the towel he had left on a chair and walked towards the private cabana he had rented earlier. Dean whistled at the little alcove, clearly impressed.
"Is all this for us? I could really get used to this rich and famous lifestyle!" Dean said, taking in all the furnishings - couch, chairs, carpeting, even pictures on the walls and a potted plant.
Sam finished toweling himself dry and closed the curtains of the cabana behind him. It was definitely not soundproof and slightly too transparent for his taste, but it would have to do.
"Enjoy it while it lasts."
Dean winked.
"You know, this case could take weeks to crack."
"And if someone gets killed in the meantime?"
Grimacing, Dean shook his head.
"Yeah, you're right. That’d blow."
That made Sam smirk and he walked right into Dean's personal space.
"Speaking of..."
Looking up at him, Dean slowly grinned.
"Finally! Being shot down like that - several times even - almost mortally wounded my ego!"
"As if."
They both moved forward to kiss at the same time. Immediately, Sam brought Dean as close to him as he could, holding him in place with a hand behind his neck, the other at the small of his back. Dean came willingly, grinding against Sam as if he wanted to crawl right into his skin. Sam started to mouth and bite at his jaw and neck, rocking back eagerly. Dean tasted and smelled like chlorine, but even so, Sam could not get enough.
"You drive me nuts, you know that?" he growled, licking at the hickey he had left earlier. Dean moaned softly, bowing his head back to give Sam better access to his throat. "Everyone that lays an eye on you wants you… too fucking pretty to be real."
Between panting breaths, Dean whispered, "Can look all they want, but I'm yours."
Sam's heart soared at that. It was exactly what he needed to hear right this second. He bit down hard on Dean's shoulder, marking him, and Dean bucked in his arms, adding fervently. "You've owned all of me for years. This is all that was left."
Sam walked him back to the little couch, unfortunately not big enough to fit them both. He stripped Dean out of his swimming trunks and then pushed him down so he'd sit, shoving the table out of the way. Dean then tried to pull Sam’s far too constrictive blue bathing suit off, cursing at the wet clingy fabric. But despite what Sam had said, this was not what he wanted, not right now, so he batted his brother's hands away, threw a couple of cushions on the ground between Dean's feet and fell to his knees. Dean's eyes were huge as he realized where this was going and Sam could not resist taking his face in both hands and kissing him again, deep and dirty. The surge of possessiveness Sam felt knew no bounds.
"Mine. No one gets you but me from now on."
He bit hard at Dean's lower lip.
"Your mouth is mine."
Letting his hands slide down his brother's sides, he palmed his ass.
"Your ass is mine. And this is mine too." He added as he gripped Dean's hard cock and started stroking him.
Dean almost mewled, all the while babbling, "Yes, yes, yours, all yours Sammy, no one else, ever."
"Got that right," Sam said before sliding his mouth down Dean's dick, learning his brother's taste and how he felt against his tongue, hard and silky. He sucked and bobbed his head, greedy for it, wanting Dean to fall apart for him.
"Oh, god, Sam... so hot, so good."
When, after a couple of minutes, Sam snuck a finger behind Dean's balls to rub gently at Dean's probably still sore hole, it was as if he had pressed a trigger. With a broken moan, Dean lost it, coming suddenly down Sam's throat. Sam swallowed most of it and then Dean was hauling him up, licking the come off his chin, jaw and the corner of his mouth and following with a scorching kiss. By then Sam was shaking with the need for his own release, his cock painfully constricted in its polyester prison.
"Come on now," Dean said as he made them trade places, forcefully yanking the bathing suit off and even that felt like a piece of heaven to Sam. Dean took a moment to just devour the sight of Sam sprawled on the couch, cock hard and curved towards his belly.
"Jesus. Let me... let me take care of you."
Following a long, wet lick up Sam's shaft, Dean reached the tip, making his tongue into a point to dart in its slit, gathering the precome there. Sam had to bite on his hand not to cry out when Dean followed that by deep throating him, nestling his nose in Sam's pubes and swallowing. He gripped Dean's hair as much as he could and pulled him up, then let him go and Dean sunk down again. It was like setting the rhythm of the blow job without doing any thrusting, and it gave Sam an incredible surge of power as he did it again and again, Dean sliding on his dick wet and perfect.
"Such a slut for my cock, aren't you?"
Dean moaned and the vibration brought the pleasure up another notch, the hum building fast. Sam finally started moving while Dean hollowed his cheeks, the suction unbelievably good. Sam could not take his eyes off his cock disappearing into his brother's sinful mouth time and time again, slow and steady. When Dean opened his eyes to look at him, Sam saw how much Dean loved sucking his dick, how it was an act of worship in itself, and Sam couldn't hold back anymore. He came hard, mouth opened on a soundless shout. Dean didn't relent through the aftershocks, and only quit when Sam gently pushed him away.
"Shhh. It's good, just... come here."
Sam felt drowsy and totally contented, even more so when they somehow managed to awkwardly curl up on the little couch, a bit like pups in a pile. It was cramped and definitely not made for two grown men, so Sam had to hold Dean tight to him or he'd fall right back on the floor. He nuzzled Dean's neck, which now smelled faintly of sweat and sex, breathed in deeply.
"I'd love to take a nap, but..."
Dean sighed.
"Yeah, the case. What now?"
"Figure it wouldn't hurt to ask around a bit, on Lister at least. He's been dead for what, eight years? Surely someone who knew him still works here. If nothing looks suspicious, we investigate the others."
Dean nodded and sat up. When he looked at Sam, he smiled and softly brushed strands of sweaty hair away from his forehead, in a gesture so full of love that Sam's heart surely grew three sizes right there on the spot. Sam knew Dean loved him, had gone to Hell and back for him, but this little intimate gesture just proved that there could not be anything wrong in something that felt so right.
"I guess recess is over. C'mon, Sammy."
When Sam sat up and caught Dean's face in his hands to give him a slow kiss, he hoped it conveyed all that he felt, too.
***
Semi-subtle questioning had led them to one of the Nugget’s bartenders, who had indeed known their prime suspect.
"Call me Fred. As for Lister, he was a first-class jerk."
Rubbing his rag on the spotless bar, Fred shook his head then looked at them with a shrug.
"I'd even say he was a pain in the ass, but since it's not polite to speak like that of the dead, I'll leave it at jerk."
Sam smiled; he had taken an immediate liking to the man. Fred had worked at the Golden Nugget for thirty-five years, first in Security and now as a bartender. He was of average height but sturdy and solid and his little brown eyes were sharp and curious as he studied the boys. Dean had a tape recorder, pretending he was writing a book set in a casino and was researching ideas for characters. It was a total coincidence that he had run into his polo buddy James Fleming today, who was very excited to help.
"Hear that Dean? You were right, Lister would make a great villain. Come on, Fred, tell us everything. Dean will change the names and all, won't you?"
"Of course! Anecdotes, feelings, what he was like, especially before he died, if there was anything special about him. I've heard a bit from my uncle in Dallas, but I bet you know so much more. He's so inspiring!"
Sam worried that Dean was laying it on too thick, especially with that last line, but Fred took the bait and started talking. There was a lot to say and not much of it was good: sly and deceitful, with a bad temper that got worse when he was drunk, which was most of the time, treating women like objects if not like shit - the list was long and not pretty.
"Of course, he was a greedy bastard too. The guy didn't believe in tips, if you know what I'm saying. It's kind of ironic that the only time he finally did tip decently, he did the world a favor by splitting his head open a couple of hours later. He even gave me his lucky coin that night, saying he wouldn’t need it anymore. Karma's a bitch, obviously."
Nodding with sympathy, Sam made the perfunctory agreeing noises. Dean cocked his head to the side.
"He had a lucky coin? How Two-Face of him. That's pretty awesome."
Fred laughed.
"It wasn’t even a real coin. It was just made of tin. You wouldn’t believe the weird shit people believe is lucky - a coin is pretty tame. I've seen everything from godawful ugly socks to diamonds, a lucky mouse, even this guy who carried around a rock almost as big as his head."
"What did you do with Lister's lucky coin? Could I see it?" asked Dean.
Snorting, Fred shook his head.
"Sorry kid, I didn't want anything from Benny. I didn't keep it."
That deflated Sam's spirits a bit. It seemed like it could have been a lead; of course things couldn’t be easy for once.
"Too bad," he said. "I dig stuff like that, would have loved to see it."
"Yeah, me too," added Dean, as they shared a look. They had to find that coin, if only to check it out. But a lost lucky coin? From eight years ago? Talk about trying to find a needle in a haystack.
"It's only three blocks down the road, if you wanna."
"Come again?" Dean exclaimed, surprised.
After another pointless rub on the bar, Fred shrugged.
"I sold it to Rick Burgel, who collects that kind of stuff. I think it's in his Lost Vegas exhibit, in, huh, Fremont Square they call it now, used to be Neonopolis, just down the street."
Dean grinned widely.
"Fred, you're awesome. I’ll definitely have to thank you in my book, when I get it published."
Sam paid for his 7-Up and Dean's coffee and added a huge tip, which pleased Fred even more than the praise.
"Glad I could help. Come and see me again if you want more stories, son. I could write a book myself, come to think of it."
Shaking his finger at him, Dean teased, "Don't go and steal my thunder, man! Not cool!"
Fred laughed as they left, no doubt taking a long walk through memory lane and remembering all the crazy people who had visited the Golden Nugget over the years. Sam had a suspicion that Fred wouldn’t even have batted an eye if he and Dean had told him they were hunters.
***
Looking up at the ugly concrete shopping mall, Sam wondered why they had decided to call it Fremont Square. It was not on a square, first of all, but when had that sort of thing stopped anyone from picking a stupid name? As for Neonopolis... well maybe Fremont Square was an improvement after all. Dean was grinning stupidly at a poster with nearly naked women on it, advertising that the Las Vegas Escort Service offices were somewhere within. Some things never changed; rolling his eyes, Sam steered his brother in the direction of the Lost Vegas Gambling Museum.
The museum was pretty small and kind of cramped. It covered various themes, like the birth of Vegas, with old photographs of casinos dating to the 20's and the 30's, info about big name gangsters and the building of Hoover Dam among other things. The little shrine to Elvis made a feeble beep on the fancy EMF meter that Dean was sweeping around discretely, which made them look at each other with raised eyebrows. The place was crammed with memorabilia, from old slot machines to gaming chips, playing cards to license plates. Sam was examining a toenail clipper, of all things, when Dean called him over. In a glass display case, a coin was making the digital meter of the EMF go up to red. Dean pointed out the description that confirmed they were looking at Lister's lucky coin.
"And we have a winner!"
It was bland-looking, pretty inconspicuous for something that was possibly binding an angry ghost.
"You think it's cursed, like the rabbit foot in Black Rock? He lost it and died, and now it keeps Benny here?" Dean asked.
Sam shook his head.
"I don't think so, or at least if it is, I don't think it has anything to do with the other victims. They never touched the thing." He tried to pry the glass cover open, but it was locked and there were too many people around to try and break into it. "Fuck."
Dean was looking around, watching for security cameras, probably plotting a B&E, before he got distracted by a video of the Landmark Casino implosion along the way. There was, however, another way to go rather than stealing the coin. Sam grabbed Dean's arm to jolt him away from the slow-motion destruction and led him out of the exhibit and into a gift shop that was twice the size of the actual museum. He leaned on the counter where they sold highly overpriced junk like chips and dice, and waited for the sales clerk to approach.
"Can I help you?" she asked with a crooked smile. Sam grinned, cranked out the charm and flirted right back.
"Definitely, but what I’m interested in isn’t in this case." He let her bat her eyelashes, pleased by the attention. Casually, Sam continued. "Can we buy some of the memorabilia in the exhibit?"
The girl, a tall brunette, shrugged.
"Oh, well, for that we'd have to ask Mr. Burgel. What are you interested in?"
Dean appeared by his side, giving the girl his most devastating smile.
"Probably that painting of Elvis. The King always turned him on."
Hitting Dean sharply in the ribs, Sam laughed.
"Nah, he's kidding. I'm intrigued by several items, ready to pay too. I mean, I have a good $50,000 to spend."
That shut Dean right up, as he stared at him. The girl suddenly preened a little more, writing a number on a post-it.
"Well, I'm sure Richard will at least hear you out... He's not in town at the moment, but here's his number." The clerk stopped for a beat, then wrote something more, biting her lower lip before looking at Sam under her lashes. "And mine too. You know, in case you need anything."
Sam took it with a wink.
"Thanks so much," he looked at the paper. "Annie."
"No problem. Have a nice day!"
Sam waved as they exited the shop, Dean in tow, who hit him on the arm as soon as they were out of Annie’s line of sight.
"Holy shit, fifty grand?"
Punching the digits of Richard Burgel's number on his phone, Sam shrugged.
"Won it last night at poker. I figured it was worth a try."
Dean whistled, impressed. Unfortunately, Sam got only Burgel's voice mail; he left a short message asking Burgel to call him back.
"Bah, it's okay," Dean said when he hung up. "Don't spend the money for nothing. Let me take care of it."
If the owner of the museum didn't call back by the evening, Sam thought they would have to steal that coin.
"Yeah. We'll see. I think we should bring the coin to the casino, try to bait Lister's ghost with it and see if it's really him, then torch it. We’ll have to be sure destroying the coin gets rid of him."
"I approve of that plan."
Making a little ball of the paper Annie gave him, Sam threw it in a trashcan. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean smile.
***
Since Lister's ghost went after poker winners, Sam and Dean had decided the poker room would be the best place to bring the coin, flaunt it a little. Sam looked at his watch; it was a little after 9:30. The Lost Vegas Gambling Museum closed at 8 pm, and since Burgel hadn't called back, Dean had gone over there to steal the coin. There was always a risk in doing a B&E; Sam could only hope the security was as lax as they suspected.
Once again the casino was filled. Sam went to the booth to change the $50,000 check he hadn't bothered to deposit into chips. The clerk wished him good luck and Sam thanked him, because he would need it indeed. Scanning the tables, he spotted Vanessa on her way back towards her table, probably done with her evening break. Sam still felt badly about the night before, so he strode towards her and caught her attention as she waited for the current hand to finish. Irritation flashed on Vanessa's face when she looked up and recognized him. He smiled, contrite.
"Hey, can we talk?"
"I'm not sure there’s anything to talk about."
Obviously this was not going to be easy.
"I'm sorry about last night, really."
She turned to face him.
"Look, I guess you didn't expect to be caught cheating, but it just sucked for me, okay?"
"We weren't together. I had no idea he'd come in like that and throw a fit."
Vanessa sighed deeply and then a corner of her mouth twitched up.
"You weren't together, huh? And now?"
Looking away, Sam felt his cheeks start to heat and Vanessa chuckled.
"I see. Well, lucky him, then."
Sam smiled back as she took her place at the table. Vanessa pointed to the seat where he had played the night before.
"Want to check if you’ve still got it tonight?" Sitting down, Sam nodded and Vanessa looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Is it James, or..."
"Samuel is my middle name, whatever you want," Sam said, laying his $50,000 down.
Vanessa greeted the table and dealt the cards, starting a new game. It turned out that the other players at the table were better this time, so things were a little more challenging, but it was also a lot more fun, because a couple of newlyweds were absolutely hilarious, bantering and cracking one joke after the other, making everyone laugh. Still, Sam had a pretty good streak, almost enough to rival the previous night’s, although he was careful not to let his stack grow too much.
He was just about to check his watch for the fifth time in less than ten minutes when a warm and heavy hand settled on the back of his neck. Sam leaned into the familiar touch and smiled up at Dean, the worries about whether he would be okay bleeding out in an instant. His brother looked absolutely gorgeous in a body-fitting black shirt under a well-cut black jacket, his hair artfully tousled with gel.
"Hey there," Dean said. "Doing good?"
"Not bad. How did it go?"
Dean winked, made the coin appear in his hand like a magic trick, and then put it in Sam's tuxedo chest pocket, tapping on it.
"A walk in the park."
"Cool."
"Would you like to take a seat, sir?"
Vanessa asked and Dean turned his attention to her. He smiled.
"No thanks, sweetheart. I think I've messed with his game enough as it is. Sorry about that by the way. Nothing personal."
Vanessa laughed and shook her head.
"Okay then. Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets."
Dean stayed by Sam's chair as the next round started, standing just close enough to be distracting. Sam had been playing for maybe half an hour when he felt the coin in his pocket suddenly become very cold. Straightening up, he elbowed Dean who bent his head to hear what he had to say.
"Check the readings, now."
Dean frowned as he got the fancy EMF meter out of his pocket.
"Felt something?"
"Yeah."
The cold spot was spreading, and fast. Sam saw the woman next to him shiver and rub her arms. Sam knew that having a pissed-off ghost materialize in the middle of a crowded room was not the best of ideas, so when Dean showed him the screen where the readings were building up. Sam got to his feet. Vanessa looked at him curiously.
"Hey, can I leave that here?" he asked, pointing to his stack. "I'll be back in a few."
He didn't even wait for her to agree before he was taking off as fast as he could without flat-out running, Dean on his heels. He just hoped the ghost would follow them and leave everyone else alone.
"Seems it's staying with us." Dean said, rapidly scanning as they moved. "We need some salt, man."
Thinking fast, Sam considered going back to the room, but that was pretty far. The most immediate solution was one of the restaurants. Maybe it was because the spirit of Benny Lister was almost reunited with his infamous lucky coin, but as they walked past the slot machines they started to spin and ding all at the same time, making the almost zombified patrons perk up as money began pouring out of them. Sam could see his breath condense now, and the air around him had become arctic cold. In their wake, furniture was shaking and small objects were starting to fly, which was definitely attracting attention. They broke into a run and when they reached the Grotto, Sam pointed to the service door.
"Over here!"
Barging in, he almost ran over a waiter, who dropped his tray and several dishes onto the floor. The man started to curse vehemently, but Sam could only cry out, "Sorry! Sorry!"
The employees gaped at them as if they were aliens when Dean grabbed a big pan off one of the stoves and dropped it onto floor. Sam dug in his pocket, and the coin felt like it burned his skin, it was so cold. He managed to toss it in the pan as Dean unscrewed the top of a salt shaker and dropped its contents on top. Looking around, Sam saw a torch which was probably more used to caramelizing crème brulée than burning cursed objects. He skidded to his knees beside the pot, gesturing Dean for a light to start the torch. By then, Lister's spirit had halfway materialized: he was a very ordinary little man, with glasses and a shiny bald head, and the sight of him would have been almost laughable if he had not been able to make big ass knives fly all over the place. A woman screamed and suddenly the kitchen was emptying fast.
"Hurry up, Dean!"
His brother threw him his lighter and then stood up to grab a frying pan, which he used to shield them from the flying cutlery.
"Son of a bitch! He's one mean fucker! Light it up Sam!"
But it was already done and Sam watched with satisfaction as the tin coin start to melt in the middle of bright orange flames. A flying barbecue fork fell to the ground in mid-flight, Lister's ghost made an ear-splitting screech of frustration and then he flickered out of existence, leaving Sam and Dean panting loudly, still wired with adrenaline as they looked around them.
"We got him, right?" Sam asked.
"Looks like it!"
They grinned at each other and Dean offered Sam a hand up. Swiping at his pants, Sam tried to brush the dirt off his knees. He looked up to see Dean staring at him with hungry eyes, sending a thrill through him.
"So fucking hot. And you don't even know it."
Of course his brother was one to talk, looking like a model right out of GQ.
"You’re just saying that because hunting makes you horny," Sam teased. He could tell that Dean was about to back him against the counter and prove just how right he was about that when they heard a loud voice approaching.
"I said, back to work! There are no such things as ghosts!"
The brothers shared a look. Obviously trouble was coming fast. They didn't waste one instant in making the decision to run for the back door. Some things were just better left unexplained, if you had the chance. They didn't stop running until they turned the corner of the back alley and found themselves directly in front of the Fremont Street Experience. The street was covered with a ceiling of brilliant lights and a gigantic screen, and a light and sound show was going on, which meant everyone was looking upwards and didn't even take notice of them. They mingled with the crowd, trying to disappear in case there was someone following. Sam chanced a look behind but didn't see anything.
"I don't know if our description was given to security," Dean stated, "but we'll look less suspicious if we go back in separately."
Sam winced.
"You think it's a good idea? Maybe we should just take off."
Shrugging, Dean passed a hand over his face.
"I don't know, man. It went pretty fast. We can't leave all the money there, and the file and the computer are still in the room. That’ll attract too much attention - if we haven’t already."
Sam didn't give a damn about the money, but it was true that Ash would probably castrate him if he left the laptop behind. But after all they had been through with the FBI, it would suck big time if they found out they were alive after all, so Sam nodded his agreement. Dean pointed to the balcony on the second floor.
"Look, there's a nightclub up there. Go try and get the money and we'll meet there. If it seems fishy in the poker room, just leave it and call to let me know where to meet you."
"Okay." Sam took a deep breath. "I'll go first."
**
The LCD TV's scattered about the club were showing Angus Young jumping around in his schoolboy uniform and girls riding mechanical bulls as Brian Johnson yelled about shaking all night long. The place was pretty packed, but Sam knew where to look as soon as he spotted the go-go dancers in lingerie and garters behind the bar. As expected, Dean was nursing a beer and enjoying the show from one of the front row seats. Sam sat on the stool at his left and the bartender came to him immediately.
"Martini. Shaken, not stirred."
He heard Dean snort and met his grin.
"So, it went okay?"
Sam nodded.
"Yeah. Though Vanessa smirked at seeing me out of breath and sweaty, I think she got the wrong idea."
Laughing, Dean took another swig of his beer.
"This place is awesome, dude," he said, looking around, only to let his eyes come back to Sam and travel up and down his body, with that leer that always had Sam wondering how Dean didn't get slapped more often, "but if you want to make her assumptions right, I have no objections."
Taking his drink from the bartender, Sam paid and sipped from it. He then threw an arm around Dean's shoulder and brought him in close enough to speak in his ear.
"I think we should go get the stuff in the room and haul ass before they watch the security camera footage."
Dean almost pouted.
"You're probably right."
"Then we switch casinos, find a room with the biggest bed we've ever seen and I take hours and hours to fuck you like you deserve. Maybe I'll even let you fuck me."
He had barely finished his sentence and Dean was up and on the way out. He turned back after a couple of steps, gesturing towards the hotel.
"C'mon Sammy! Places to be, things to do!"
Amused, Sam thanked his lucky stars that he had finally found a way to get Dean to stick with the plan from now on. In more ways than one, Dean was so, so screwed. Sam would make sure of it.
***
"You’ve got to be kidding me."
"Nope."
"You’re not yanking my chain?"
"I swear."
When Sam unlocked the doors on the Aston Martin, Dean's eyes lit up.
"Whoa."
Sam opened the driver's door, put his suitcase behind the seat and offered Dean the keys.
"I'll follow in the Impala, if you want."
Snatching the keys, Dean slid into the car and reverently caressed the dash, gear stick and the wheel, eyes wide with wonder. Sam laughed and was about to ask where the Impala was parked when Dean got out of the car. He turned away from it and gave back the keys to Sam. He looked almost sick.
"I... I can't."
Genuinely puzzled, Sam frowned.
"What? Why?"
Dean looked wracked with guilt.
"I just can't."
It dawned on Sam and he gaped.
"Jesus Dean, you can enjoy driving a car that isn’t..."
"I don't wanna. I'll follow you."
He started walking toward the parking garage and Sam threw his hands in the air.
"A car doesn't have feelings, Dean. She won't resent you!"
"Blah blah blah! Where are we going?"
Shaking his head, Sam sighed and pinched his nose.
"It doesn’t matter. You choose."
Dean grinned at him, walking backwards now.
"How about the one with the pyramid and the sphinx?"
Well, of course that would be Dean's preference, Sam shrugged.
"Okay. Meet you at the Luxor, then."
"Cool!"
Sam got in the car and turned the key, making sure to rev the motor a bit, just to tease Dean. Once past the surprise, Sam couldn’t help but smile at the thought that Dean wanted to stay faithful to his car. His brother had a lot of flaws, but he was loyal to the core. If he put half as much care into what they were starting together as he put into his wheels, Sam was sure that they'd be all right.
The End
Notes: I hope you liked it! Any and all comments are love ♥
I want to thank the awesome zelda_zee once more, because she really turned this into a readable fic. thanks so much!
AND my keyweegirlie loves me, because she made me MANY headers even with a busted hand and it was up to me to choose my favorite. Just showing one is lame, though, so here, have a small slideshow with the others! give her some love! thanks again Cassie, you are the best! and are one great faithful cheerleader, you totally made me feel better about this fic :)
(part 1 is here)
****
Sam woke up early, jolting awake with a sense of dread. Dean was still there though, thank god, sleeping soundly on his stomach only inches away, and the uneasy feeling faded away. Sam watched him sleep for a while, cataloging all of those things that made Dean unique, from his freckles to the few scars he had already managed to collect after Hell, passing over his well-defined muscles and the strands of gold in his brown hair. Sam had watched so many times before, but for the first time it was as if he had implicit permission to do it, and this time Sam didn't feel the usual guilt when he slowly got hard doing so. He noted Dean’s change in breathing as soon as it happened, signaling that he was waking up.
Without even opening his eyes first, Dean frowned and asked, "Dude, are you staring again?"
He had his answer as he opened his eyes and met Sam's.
"Yep."
Dean twisted until he was on his back and threw his forearm across his face, blocking the morning light.
"Creepy," he mumbled, but it lacked any bite.
The white sheets stopped below Dean's navel and Sam considered the fine trail of hair disappearing under it, longed to follow it with his fingers.
"You're gorgeous. I can't help it."
Dean huffed and shook his head, his face still hidden, but Sam smiled at the faint flush that appeared.
"Not a girl, dude. No need to sweet talk me. Not that, you know, you'd actually remember what to do with a girl."
Sam laughed.
"That's rich coming from the very guy who knows perfectly well that he cock blocked me last night."
Dean grunted in reticent agreement. There was too much talking about sex and not enough action, Sam thought. He had been watching for a while, after all, and was ready for more. Since it was obvious that Dean wasn’t going to initiate anything at the moment, he made a move, rolling on top of Dean and staying there looking down, propped on his forearms. Dean tensed, arm flying off his face to grip at Sam's bicep, his eyes round and surprised. He looked strangely vulnerable, so Sam smiled and kissed him unhurriedly.
"Hi."
Now that they were skin to skin, Sam could feel that Dean was just as hard as he was. After a series of rapid blinks, Dean relaxed back on his pillow, breathing unsteadily. He glanced away, then fixed his eyes back on Sam's.
"Hi yourself. Huh… still think this is a good idea?"
Sam nodded and ground down, and the incredible sensation of their two erections sliding along each other made Dean gasp and reflexively move with it.
"Totally sure, Dean. You?"
The answer came in the form of a kiss, Dean pulling him down and arching up at the same time. It was demanding and a bit desperate, and it made everything inside of Sam warm up until it burned hot and bright. The want was thrumming under his skin, and their slick-sliding motions were more than good but still not enough to quench it. Sam broke the kiss, panting.
"I need... I want..."
Dean's hands were skidding, groping and scratching everywhere he could reach as he was writhed under Sam, humping up for more friction.
"Anything, Sammy. Anything."
Sam wanted so much. He wanted everything, wanted to get under Dean's skin just as much as Dean was branded into his. Sam sucked hard on Dean's pulse point, knowing he would leave a mark, and Dean moaned when he realized it too.
"I want to make you mine. I… I wanna fuck you..."
Dean arched up again at that, brought his thighs up, opening wide, offering himself without any shame.
"Yeah, do it, Sam, fuck me. C’mon."
It made Sam's head spin, just the idea of it. He reached down, pulled on his own cock to gather some pre-come on his fingers, groaning at the sensation and then brought the slick to Dean's hole. He tried to take his time fingering Dean and stretching him properly, but Dean wouldn't stop moving, forcing himself onto Sam's fingers faster than was probably comfortable.
"Jesus, slow down. I don't want..."
Dean's hips snapped forward again, pushing against him, greedy.
"Not hurting, come on. C’mon, I'm dying here, fuck me!"
Sam looked around, didn't see anything he could use as lube, although there was probably something in the bathroom.
"I don’t have anything..."
"What did I just say? Spit will do, s'okay."
Fast and urgent was awesome, but this was a bit out of control. But there was just no way that he was getting out of bed now - not even for a minute - when he could fuck Dean in the next two seconds, Sam did as he was told and spat in his hand, spreading it on his cock and hoping it wouldn’t hurt too much. He grumbled as he lined up.
"You asked for it..."
"Yeah, I did. COME ON. Get your giant dick in me already."
Sam laughed as he started to push in, bending down to kiss Dean.
"You're incredible."
Clearly, Sam didn't go as fast as Dean wanted, because suddenly he surged forward and twisted, flipping Sam on his back and landing on top, a surprising change in the situation, yes, but not a problem at all. Sam laughed again.
"Bossy much?"
Dean grinned and sat up, added his own spit to Sam's which should not have been sexy at all but it undoubtedly was and besides, it felt awesome.
"You'd never get the job done."
Sure enough, when he lowered himself onto Sam's cock he went far faster than Sam would ever have dared, enveloping Sam’s cock in tight scorching heat. It felt even more incredible than Sam thought possible, especially with the added visual of Dean on display above him, gleaming in the morning light and looking unbelievably hot. It took all of Sam's control to stop himself from grabbing him by the hips and starting to thrust, because even with all of Dean's bravado, it was obviously not easy or pain-free. Almost halfway, Dean fell forward and rested his forehead on Sam's collarbone, panting.
"Dean, if it's too..."
"Shut up, I just need a sec."
Sam ran his hands over Dean's flanks and back. He tried to stay still, hoping it would get better soon because he needed to move. Dean took a deep breath and started to rock a little back and forth, an excruciating tease.
"Let me go get some..."
"You're not going anywhere. It's okay, I just..."
Dean moved a bit more and suddenly groaned in a definitely pleasurable way. He looked up at Sam and his eyes were shining.
"There we are." He moved in the same way again and his eyes shut and his mouth opened. "Yeah. Okay."
Dean must have found a way to rub on his sweet spot; after a couple of seconds Sam could feel him relaxing slightly and the rocking became more pronounced. Dean sat up and slowly let himself sink all the way down, sheathing Sam completely and seizing him in a vise-like grip.
"You feel so fucking good," Sam whispered, ghosting his fingertips over his brother's chest, taking time to outline the pentagram in the tattoo, lightly rubbing his nipples. Dean moaned at that and finally started to move up and down, fucking himself on Sam, carefully at first, but with more and more force and speed as it became easier. The only thing Sam could do was to hold Dean’s hips and hang on. Never in his entire life had Sam seen anything more beautiful than Dean riding him, head thrown back in pleasure. Even in ordinary situations Dean was sex incarnate, but in the act itself he was just overwhelming. Sam knew he wasn’t going to last. He could already feel his orgasm building steadily, sending tingles all over his body.
"Fuck, Dean,” he gasped. “So great."
Groaning, Dean braced himself on Sam's shoulders and slammed his hips down harder.
"Yeah, yeah. C'mon Sam, don't let me do all the work here. Gimme more. Fuck me, dammit."
Planting his feet firmly on the bed, Sam tightened his hold on Dean's hips. If he wanted more, he'd get more, and he’d get it hard and fast.
"That what you want?"
"Yeah."
When Dean tried to slide up, Sam stopped him, pinning him down, stopping everything.
"If you want it, you'll have to touch yourself."
Dean tried to force his way up but Sam was holding tight, hard enough to bruise. It made Dean curse, frustrated.
"Dammit, Sam, just... move!"
"Touch yourself."
"Jesus! And you say I'm bossy."
Even if he shook his head no, Dean did it just the same, started stroking his cock, the sweep of his fingers eased by precome. It was a sight to behold, and it turned Sam's crank up to fifteen on a one to ten scale, way, way better that that one time he had spied on Dean through a crack in his bedroom door when he was masturbating.
Satisfied that Dean had done what he said, Sam let him move, only to meet him on the down stroke with a snap up of his own, starting to buck up into Dean in earnest - short, hard jerks, shoving Dean down at the same time. Great was not even in the same metaphoric universe of how good that was. His brother tried to keep pace, but it was too much for him and in the end Dean just let himself be manhandled and thoroughly fucked, panting and moaning, stripping his cock roughly now. Sam gritted his teeth, holding onto the last of his control with all his might.
"C'mon, c'mon,” he growled. “I want to feel you come. I want to see you come on me."
Dean gasped and his eyes rolled back in his head as he let go, clamping around Sam’s cock and spurting ropes of come onto his stomach with a loud shout. It was asking too much for Sam to resist falling over the edge himself, and with two or three hard, perfect thrusts, and with Dean still rippling around him, Sam’s orgasm ripped through him like a hurricane. For a few blessed seconds it felt like it would never end, and then he came out of it, exhausted and boneless, barely able to protest when Dean fell forward with all his weight and a hard head-butt to his shoulder. It felt like Sam’s heart was about to burst with the force with which it was pounding against his rib cage, and he focused on trying to slow down his breathing.
Dean was the first to talk. "Holy shit."
That made Sam chuckle, although he winced to see Dean's obvious discomfort as he dismounted only to flop onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Not wanting any distance yet, Sam rapidly mopped his stomach with the sheets and turned onto his side towards Dean, who automatically stretched out his arm to give him a place to cuddle on his chest. Sam threw a leg over Dean's and scooted close, letting his fingers trace idle patterns over his brother’s skin.
"Not bad," Sam admitted, and this time it was Dean who laughed.
"Yeah. Not bad at all. You know, Sam, you should be prosecuted for denying the world of your mad sex skills for the last, oh, three years or so. Jesus."
Shrugging, Sam thought that it wasn’t important what had come before, just what would come next.
"Bah, I was too busy pining for you."
He felt Dean's breathing pause slightly at that, and it was followed by soft carding of his hair that would have made Sam purr if he had been able to do so. He put an arm around Dean's waist and held him close. His brother's voice was soft.
"Really?"
"Really. For as long as I can remember. That was the main reason I left for Stanford. And why I asked Ellen for a gig on my own, so I could try to find my footing again."
He felt a kiss on the top of his head.
"I didn't know."
"Well, I had no clue about you either."
Dean sighed dramatically.
"So many opportunities for great sex wasted."
It made Sam grin and he licked Dean's nipple, feeling his shudder.
"We'll have to take measures to rectify that situation."
"And I say we should start now. In the shower," Dean agreed enthusiastically.
Now that it was directed towards him, Sam had less of a problem coping with Dean's seemingly insatiable sex drive, but he didn't feel like moving just yet and something that had been nagging at the back of his mind finally came forward.
"In a minute. Just... Why did you ask what I was doing in Vegas last night?"
"I thought you'd wait for me at the Roadhouse, that's all. You weren't there and... well, I got your phone tracked again and it brought me here."
There was something that didn't quite fit in there. Sam tried to stretch back to look at Dean's face, but his brother turned with him, positioning himself on top again and starting to kiss down Sam’s chest. Sam's dick twitched as Dean did wicked things with his tongue to Sam’s nipples.
"Not important anyway," Dean added. He was steadily making his way downward, biting and licking and Sam started to suspect it was a diversion tactic.
"Why didn't you ask Ellen?"
Dean was totally playing dirty, sucking at Sam’s hip bone.
"She wouldn’t tell me."
That made sense, since Sam had pretty much begged for time alone. He was about to let it go and surrender to Dean's onslaught when he frowned.
"How did you find my room then?"
If Ellen had not told Dean where he was, Dean surely didn't know his current over-the-top James Fleming alias.
Dean softly blew on Sam's slowly hardening cock.
"New GPS tracking on the phone is friggin’ precise. It’s really awesome. Now shut up if you want me to give you a hand job."
As tempting as it was, Sam knew an outright lie when he heard one. He leaned up on an elbow and took Dean by the jaw to make him look into his eyes. Dean stared back, but in that very slightly defiant way that he had when he was trying to hide a lie with an honest stare.
"Bullshit. How did you find me?"
"I told you, the phone. I could show you."
Sam scowled, and Dean looked a tad less confident.
"My regular phone isn’t even in this room, Dean, it's in the garage. I forgot it in the car, that's why I missed your calls."
Blinking, Dean realized that he was caught.
"Ah. Well, yeah, the GPS brought me to the casino and I asked around. A giant freak like you isn’t that hard to find."
An outright lie again, of that Sam was sure. Anger started to rise, and fast.
"Are you lying to my face, Dean? Better come clean now, because I swear to god, if I..."
"Okay, okay! Shit Sam, I... I got Ash to give me a chip for you."
The enormity of it made Sam's mind boggle. He wasn’t even sure he had heard right.
"A what?"
Dean flushed and stammered.
"A - a chip. A tracking device, with my phone, I..."
"You bugged me?"
Sam realized that he was shouting, and Dean looked miserable.
"Come on, Sam! I'm sorry! I didn't use it a lot, but I got scared shitless when Castiel threatened to take care of you himself if I couldn't keep you in check. I had to be able to keep track of you. And you weren't talking to me much, slipping away every chance you got, and I was desperate, okay?"
That was the truth, obviously, and the anger left Sam in a rush. He flopped back down on the bed in befuddlement.
"That is... Dean, I have no words." Dean was caressing his thighs, kissing Sam's stomach softly. Shaking his head, Sam declared. "It needs to go. I'm not a pet, Dean."
Dean hummed.
"'Course." He then nuzzled near Sam's crotch and that made Sam sigh.
"Dean, sex is not a way to avoid a conversation."
"It's an awesome way to avoid a conversation."
As tempting as it was, he could not let Dean get away with it and make his apologies with sex. Sam had to be firm... in a different way.
"No. Stop it. I'm going to take a shower."
Sighing, Dean lay on the bed next to Sam, stretching out on his belly and hitting the pillow a bit to make it just right.
"You're so totally going to use the withholding of sex as a weapon. I protest, man. Girl tactic."
Sam had to fight a smile.
"Be good and you'll get treats."
"Dude, not a pet either."
Sam slapped Dean's ass, which produced a very satisfactory yelp of surprise, and then stood up.
"Oh, I know. But you owe me, big time. We’ve got work to do, though. You’ll make it up to me later."
It took a lot of self-restraint, but Sam made it to the bathroom without looking back at the temptation lying in his bed. Oh, Dean was going to pay for this with tons of sex indeed, but on Sam's terms.
***
When Sam came out of the shower, he found Dean sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed with the case file spread around him. Dean looked up, his eyes lingering on Sam's naked chest for a beat, then looked down at the papers on the bed and tapped his finger on a picture.
"I bet Benny here is our bitter Casper."
"Benny Lister? Yeah, he tops my list too."
"Tons of trouble even when alive, won a poker tournament only to slip in the shower later that night while completely drunk. It fits the MO."
"Ellen had someone salt and burn his remains in Dallas six months ago, but the accidents didn’t stop."
Sam put on his new black dress pants, then a white shirt with French cuffs that was maybe a bit tight around the shoulders, even though it was brand new. The girl at the boutique had said it was made to fit like that, though. He turned to the bed when Dean didn't answer to discover that was because he was too busy staring at Sam.
"Huh. What? Something wrong?"
Dean tilted his head to the side.
"Not at all." He gestured in the direction of Sam's crotch. "You sure you don't want to mess around? Offer still stands."
Sam laughed and pointed to the bathroom.
"I said later. Go get cleaned up and I'll take you to see the sharks."
"The what?" Dean frowned in confusion.
"Downstairs, at the pool. There's a shark tank right next to girls in bikinis, you'll love it."
The grin he got at that was like a kid on Christmas morning.
"Awesome!"
"I'll even buy you breakfast. Get up."
Literally leaping out of bed, Dean made a bee line for the shower.
"Gimme five."
***
Okay, so it was maybe a bit embarrassing to eat breakfast at a buffet with Dean. Sam knew that, had known it for years, but today his brother had piled his plate with a mountain of food and was moaning outrageously around forks full of eggs and bacon and pancakes, just to try to rile Sam up. Sam let it be, thinking he'd just make him pay later.
When they finally made it to the pool (which was definitely more than impressive with the shark tank and a three-story waterfall), Dean's jaw dropped.
"That is so cool."
Sharks and Dean went a long way back. He had always been fascinated with the beasts, insisting on watching every documentary ever filmed on them. Sam didn't even want to know how many times he had seen Jaws.
It was so rare to see Dean totally carefree and happy that Sam elbowed him.
"Wanna go take a swim, see them up close?"
The suggestion was rewarded by of those grins that lit up Dean's whole face.
"Hell, yeah!"
Sam smiled back, fished out his wallet and took a thousand dollars out that he gave to Dean, who frowned.
"Not that I’m protesting, but what's this for?"
Rolling his eyes, Sam gestured up and down Dean's body, pointing at the jeans and t-shirt.
"This is not appropriate swimming gear, and no, you can’t just go nude. Plus you'll need something nice when we investigate the casino tonight, so you might as well get that at the same time. There’s a store in front of the cafe."
Dean took the bills, and gave Sam a mock salute.
"Good thinking. And I'm starting to like being your bitch."
Sam shoved him with a snort.
"Come on, smartass, get going and we’ll meet back here. My trunks are upstairs."
***
There were quite a lot people at the pool for a late November morning. Of course, for the locals 80F wasn't hot enough to warrant a swim, but the hotel was full of tourists who weren't deterred by that at all. After a little while Sam got bored and decided to take a lap around the shark tank. When he completed his tour, he saw Dean dressed in red swim trunks, chatting up several hot girls in bikinis lounging in the pool chairs. They were making flirtatious eyes at him, although one just seemed mesmerized by the hand print burned onto Dean's shoulder.
Before Sam even had the time to wonder how that made him feel, he noticed the signs Dean was making as he talked: a hand about six inches over his head, then opening them wide sideways before tapping on his tattoo. Looking for him, then. It made Sam smile.
He swam towards the little group and Dean finally spotted him just before he reached the step between the deep part of the pool and the shallow end where the chairs were. The girls were already forgotten, if Dean's heated stare was any indication, and Sam couldn't help his victorious thought of 'Mine, bitches.'
Sam waded out of the water until he stood in the ankle deep part of the pool. He was slicking his wet hair out of his eyes, which explained why he didn't see Dean charging him with a full-body tackle that made him fall backwards into the deep water again with his brother on top, surprising the hell out of him and almost drowning him in the process. Sam sputtered and coughed, managing to gulp some air when he finaly surfaced next to a laughing Dean.
"You asshole! Not funny!" he seethed. Dean didn't come any closer, but he looked as mischievous as Sam had ever seen him.
"Totally funny!" Then he added, lower. "Besides, I had to hide the instant boner I popped seeing you all wet in those skimpy blue trunks. Jesus, those should be illegal!"
There was no way to stay mad after that. Sam smiled and lured Dean closer.
"Oh yeah? Come here and show me."
Clearly the lack of blood to the brain was making Dean more trustful, because he did get within close enough reach for Sam to catch his shoulder and then violently dunk him underwater and then it was his turn to laugh and for Dean to sputter. To avoid more vicious attacks, Sam swam away towards the sharks, hoping they would distract Dean. He stopped with his back to the tank, hands in front of himself to keep Dean at bay. He was clearly plotting his revenge, eyes half opened and treading water just out of reach. He looked as dangerous as the sharks on the other side of the glass.
"You deserved that and you know it, Dean!"
"That was a low blow, bro. You're gonna pay."
"I say we're even. Let's make a truce. C'mon. Come here for real."
Dean squinted.
"If this is a trick to dunk me again, I'll retract all offers of blowjobs. Ever."
Sam crossed his heart.
"I swear, not a trick."
There was a little ledge on the side of the tank and Sam used it to keep his balance as he lifted his hands in surrender. Cautious, Dean approached and Sam didn't move, even if he expected Dean to push him underwater any second. Sam would reciprocate then, if it came to that. It took a little while, but Dean finally reached him, treading mere inches away. Sam bent his head forward to kiss him softly on the lips.
"Truce."
Dean moved in and kissed Sam the same way.
"Okay. Truce."
It was highly tempting to gather Dean in his arms and kiss him like he really wanted to, but their little games had attracted the attention of several people who already looked taken aback by a peck on the lips. Sam pointed to the sharks behind him.
"Look! There's a water slide that goes through the tank. Wanna try it?"
It had the intended results, and Dean gaped.
"Whoa! Of course! I'll race you there!"
Off he went, Sam just behind. They climbed fast to the third floor and then had to wait for their turn before sliding down. It was a bit surreal, to slide through a glass tube in the midst of bloodthirsty beasts but Dean's whoops of joy were totally worth it. Sam stayed in the water as Dean ran up again several times, coming down the slide on his belly to dive in the pool.
Sam found it impossible to take his eyes off Dean for long. How someone could be so lucky to be as gorgeous as Dean was, Sam had never known. The body, the eyes, the lips: every part of him was beautiful, but taken together the effect was simply breathtaking. Sam could see the eyes of several people following Dean around, girls and guys alike, some with desire and others with jealousy.
He had to stop that train of thought, though, because if he got a hard-on now it would be absolutely impossible to hide in this bathing suit. But he wanted Dean, and soon too, so when he caught his brother's eyes he signaled him to come closer.
"What is it, Sammy?"
"Follow me."
Sam got out of the pool, grabbed the towel he had left on a chair and walked towards the private cabana he had rented earlier. Dean whistled at the little alcove, clearly impressed.
"Is all this for us? I could really get used to this rich and famous lifestyle!" Dean said, taking in all the furnishings - couch, chairs, carpeting, even pictures on the walls and a potted plant.
Sam finished toweling himself dry and closed the curtains of the cabana behind him. It was definitely not soundproof and slightly too transparent for his taste, but it would have to do.
"Enjoy it while it lasts."
Dean winked.
"You know, this case could take weeks to crack."
"And if someone gets killed in the meantime?"
Grimacing, Dean shook his head.
"Yeah, you're right. That’d blow."
That made Sam smirk and he walked right into Dean's personal space.
"Speaking of..."
Looking up at him, Dean slowly grinned.
"Finally! Being shot down like that - several times even - almost mortally wounded my ego!"
"As if."
They both moved forward to kiss at the same time. Immediately, Sam brought Dean as close to him as he could, holding him in place with a hand behind his neck, the other at the small of his back. Dean came willingly, grinding against Sam as if he wanted to crawl right into his skin. Sam started to mouth and bite at his jaw and neck, rocking back eagerly. Dean tasted and smelled like chlorine, but even so, Sam could not get enough.
"You drive me nuts, you know that?" he growled, licking at the hickey he had left earlier. Dean moaned softly, bowing his head back to give Sam better access to his throat. "Everyone that lays an eye on you wants you… too fucking pretty to be real."
Between panting breaths, Dean whispered, "Can look all they want, but I'm yours."
Sam's heart soared at that. It was exactly what he needed to hear right this second. He bit down hard on Dean's shoulder, marking him, and Dean bucked in his arms, adding fervently. "You've owned all of me for years. This is all that was left."
Sam walked him back to the little couch, unfortunately not big enough to fit them both. He stripped Dean out of his swimming trunks and then pushed him down so he'd sit, shoving the table out of the way. Dean then tried to pull Sam’s far too constrictive blue bathing suit off, cursing at the wet clingy fabric. But despite what Sam had said, this was not what he wanted, not right now, so he batted his brother's hands away, threw a couple of cushions on the ground between Dean's feet and fell to his knees. Dean's eyes were huge as he realized where this was going and Sam could not resist taking his face in both hands and kissing him again, deep and dirty. The surge of possessiveness Sam felt knew no bounds.
"Mine. No one gets you but me from now on."
He bit hard at Dean's lower lip.
"Your mouth is mine."
Letting his hands slide down his brother's sides, he palmed his ass.
"Your ass is mine. And this is mine too." He added as he gripped Dean's hard cock and started stroking him.
Dean almost mewled, all the while babbling, "Yes, yes, yours, all yours Sammy, no one else, ever."
"Got that right," Sam said before sliding his mouth down Dean's dick, learning his brother's taste and how he felt against his tongue, hard and silky. He sucked and bobbed his head, greedy for it, wanting Dean to fall apart for him.
"Oh, god, Sam... so hot, so good."
When, after a couple of minutes, Sam snuck a finger behind Dean's balls to rub gently at Dean's probably still sore hole, it was as if he had pressed a trigger. With a broken moan, Dean lost it, coming suddenly down Sam's throat. Sam swallowed most of it and then Dean was hauling him up, licking the come off his chin, jaw and the corner of his mouth and following with a scorching kiss. By then Sam was shaking with the need for his own release, his cock painfully constricted in its polyester prison.
"Come on now," Dean said as he made them trade places, forcefully yanking the bathing suit off and even that felt like a piece of heaven to Sam. Dean took a moment to just devour the sight of Sam sprawled on the couch, cock hard and curved towards his belly.
"Jesus. Let me... let me take care of you."
Following a long, wet lick up Sam's shaft, Dean reached the tip, making his tongue into a point to dart in its slit, gathering the precome there. Sam had to bite on his hand not to cry out when Dean followed that by deep throating him, nestling his nose in Sam's pubes and swallowing. He gripped Dean's hair as much as he could and pulled him up, then let him go and Dean sunk down again. It was like setting the rhythm of the blow job without doing any thrusting, and it gave Sam an incredible surge of power as he did it again and again, Dean sliding on his dick wet and perfect.
"Such a slut for my cock, aren't you?"
Dean moaned and the vibration brought the pleasure up another notch, the hum building fast. Sam finally started moving while Dean hollowed his cheeks, the suction unbelievably good. Sam could not take his eyes off his cock disappearing into his brother's sinful mouth time and time again, slow and steady. When Dean opened his eyes to look at him, Sam saw how much Dean loved sucking his dick, how it was an act of worship in itself, and Sam couldn't hold back anymore. He came hard, mouth opened on a soundless shout. Dean didn't relent through the aftershocks, and only quit when Sam gently pushed him away.
"Shhh. It's good, just... come here."
Sam felt drowsy and totally contented, even more so when they somehow managed to awkwardly curl up on the little couch, a bit like pups in a pile. It was cramped and definitely not made for two grown men, so Sam had to hold Dean tight to him or he'd fall right back on the floor. He nuzzled Dean's neck, which now smelled faintly of sweat and sex, breathed in deeply.
"I'd love to take a nap, but..."
Dean sighed.
"Yeah, the case. What now?"
"Figure it wouldn't hurt to ask around a bit, on Lister at least. He's been dead for what, eight years? Surely someone who knew him still works here. If nothing looks suspicious, we investigate the others."
Dean nodded and sat up. When he looked at Sam, he smiled and softly brushed strands of sweaty hair away from his forehead, in a gesture so full of love that Sam's heart surely grew three sizes right there on the spot. Sam knew Dean loved him, had gone to Hell and back for him, but this little intimate gesture just proved that there could not be anything wrong in something that felt so right.
"I guess recess is over. C'mon, Sammy."
When Sam sat up and caught Dean's face in his hands to give him a slow kiss, he hoped it conveyed all that he felt, too.
***
Semi-subtle questioning had led them to one of the Nugget’s bartenders, who had indeed known their prime suspect.
"Call me Fred. As for Lister, he was a first-class jerk."
Rubbing his rag on the spotless bar, Fred shook his head then looked at them with a shrug.
"I'd even say he was a pain in the ass, but since it's not polite to speak like that of the dead, I'll leave it at jerk."
Sam smiled; he had taken an immediate liking to the man. Fred had worked at the Golden Nugget for thirty-five years, first in Security and now as a bartender. He was of average height but sturdy and solid and his little brown eyes were sharp and curious as he studied the boys. Dean had a tape recorder, pretending he was writing a book set in a casino and was researching ideas for characters. It was a total coincidence that he had run into his polo buddy James Fleming today, who was very excited to help.
"Hear that Dean? You were right, Lister would make a great villain. Come on, Fred, tell us everything. Dean will change the names and all, won't you?"
"Of course! Anecdotes, feelings, what he was like, especially before he died, if there was anything special about him. I've heard a bit from my uncle in Dallas, but I bet you know so much more. He's so inspiring!"
Sam worried that Dean was laying it on too thick, especially with that last line, but Fred took the bait and started talking. There was a lot to say and not much of it was good: sly and deceitful, with a bad temper that got worse when he was drunk, which was most of the time, treating women like objects if not like shit - the list was long and not pretty.
"Of course, he was a greedy bastard too. The guy didn't believe in tips, if you know what I'm saying. It's kind of ironic that the only time he finally did tip decently, he did the world a favor by splitting his head open a couple of hours later. He even gave me his lucky coin that night, saying he wouldn’t need it anymore. Karma's a bitch, obviously."
Nodding with sympathy, Sam made the perfunctory agreeing noises. Dean cocked his head to the side.
"He had a lucky coin? How Two-Face of him. That's pretty awesome."
Fred laughed.
"It wasn’t even a real coin. It was just made of tin. You wouldn’t believe the weird shit people believe is lucky - a coin is pretty tame. I've seen everything from godawful ugly socks to diamonds, a lucky mouse, even this guy who carried around a rock almost as big as his head."
"What did you do with Lister's lucky coin? Could I see it?" asked Dean.
Snorting, Fred shook his head.
"Sorry kid, I didn't want anything from Benny. I didn't keep it."
That deflated Sam's spirits a bit. It seemed like it could have been a lead; of course things couldn’t be easy for once.
"Too bad," he said. "I dig stuff like that, would have loved to see it."
"Yeah, me too," added Dean, as they shared a look. They had to find that coin, if only to check it out. But a lost lucky coin? From eight years ago? Talk about trying to find a needle in a haystack.
"It's only three blocks down the road, if you wanna."
"Come again?" Dean exclaimed, surprised.
After another pointless rub on the bar, Fred shrugged.
"I sold it to Rick Burgel, who collects that kind of stuff. I think it's in his Lost Vegas exhibit, in, huh, Fremont Square they call it now, used to be Neonopolis, just down the street."
Dean grinned widely.
"Fred, you're awesome. I’ll definitely have to thank you in my book, when I get it published."
Sam paid for his 7-Up and Dean's coffee and added a huge tip, which pleased Fred even more than the praise.
"Glad I could help. Come and see me again if you want more stories, son. I could write a book myself, come to think of it."
Shaking his finger at him, Dean teased, "Don't go and steal my thunder, man! Not cool!"
Fred laughed as they left, no doubt taking a long walk through memory lane and remembering all the crazy people who had visited the Golden Nugget over the years. Sam had a suspicion that Fred wouldn’t even have batted an eye if he and Dean had told him they were hunters.
***
Looking up at the ugly concrete shopping mall, Sam wondered why they had decided to call it Fremont Square. It was not on a square, first of all, but when had that sort of thing stopped anyone from picking a stupid name? As for Neonopolis... well maybe Fremont Square was an improvement after all. Dean was grinning stupidly at a poster with nearly naked women on it, advertising that the Las Vegas Escort Service offices were somewhere within. Some things never changed; rolling his eyes, Sam steered his brother in the direction of the Lost Vegas Gambling Museum.
The museum was pretty small and kind of cramped. It covered various themes, like the birth of Vegas, with old photographs of casinos dating to the 20's and the 30's, info about big name gangsters and the building of Hoover Dam among other things. The little shrine to Elvis made a feeble beep on the fancy EMF meter that Dean was sweeping around discretely, which made them look at each other with raised eyebrows. The place was crammed with memorabilia, from old slot machines to gaming chips, playing cards to license plates. Sam was examining a toenail clipper, of all things, when Dean called him over. In a glass display case, a coin was making the digital meter of the EMF go up to red. Dean pointed out the description that confirmed they were looking at Lister's lucky coin.
"And we have a winner!"
It was bland-looking, pretty inconspicuous for something that was possibly binding an angry ghost.
"You think it's cursed, like the rabbit foot in Black Rock? He lost it and died, and now it keeps Benny here?" Dean asked.
Sam shook his head.
"I don't think so, or at least if it is, I don't think it has anything to do with the other victims. They never touched the thing." He tried to pry the glass cover open, but it was locked and there were too many people around to try and break into it. "Fuck."
Dean was looking around, watching for security cameras, probably plotting a B&E, before he got distracted by a video of the Landmark Casino implosion along the way. There was, however, another way to go rather than stealing the coin. Sam grabbed Dean's arm to jolt him away from the slow-motion destruction and led him out of the exhibit and into a gift shop that was twice the size of the actual museum. He leaned on the counter where they sold highly overpriced junk like chips and dice, and waited for the sales clerk to approach.
"Can I help you?" she asked with a crooked smile. Sam grinned, cranked out the charm and flirted right back.
"Definitely, but what I’m interested in isn’t in this case." He let her bat her eyelashes, pleased by the attention. Casually, Sam continued. "Can we buy some of the memorabilia in the exhibit?"
The girl, a tall brunette, shrugged.
"Oh, well, for that we'd have to ask Mr. Burgel. What are you interested in?"
Dean appeared by his side, giving the girl his most devastating smile.
"Probably that painting of Elvis. The King always turned him on."
Hitting Dean sharply in the ribs, Sam laughed.
"Nah, he's kidding. I'm intrigued by several items, ready to pay too. I mean, I have a good $50,000 to spend."
That shut Dean right up, as he stared at him. The girl suddenly preened a little more, writing a number on a post-it.
"Well, I'm sure Richard will at least hear you out... He's not in town at the moment, but here's his number." The clerk stopped for a beat, then wrote something more, biting her lower lip before looking at Sam under her lashes. "And mine too. You know, in case you need anything."
Sam took it with a wink.
"Thanks so much," he looked at the paper. "Annie."
"No problem. Have a nice day!"
Sam waved as they exited the shop, Dean in tow, who hit him on the arm as soon as they were out of Annie’s line of sight.
"Holy shit, fifty grand?"
Punching the digits of Richard Burgel's number on his phone, Sam shrugged.
"Won it last night at poker. I figured it was worth a try."
Dean whistled, impressed. Unfortunately, Sam got only Burgel's voice mail; he left a short message asking Burgel to call him back.
"Bah, it's okay," Dean said when he hung up. "Don't spend the money for nothing. Let me take care of it."
If the owner of the museum didn't call back by the evening, Sam thought they would have to steal that coin.
"Yeah. We'll see. I think we should bring the coin to the casino, try to bait Lister's ghost with it and see if it's really him, then torch it. We’ll have to be sure destroying the coin gets rid of him."
"I approve of that plan."
Making a little ball of the paper Annie gave him, Sam threw it in a trashcan. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean smile.
***
Since Lister's ghost went after poker winners, Sam and Dean had decided the poker room would be the best place to bring the coin, flaunt it a little. Sam looked at his watch; it was a little after 9:30. The Lost Vegas Gambling Museum closed at 8 pm, and since Burgel hadn't called back, Dean had gone over there to steal the coin. There was always a risk in doing a B&E; Sam could only hope the security was as lax as they suspected.
Once again the casino was filled. Sam went to the booth to change the $50,000 check he hadn't bothered to deposit into chips. The clerk wished him good luck and Sam thanked him, because he would need it indeed. Scanning the tables, he spotted Vanessa on her way back towards her table, probably done with her evening break. Sam still felt badly about the night before, so he strode towards her and caught her attention as she waited for the current hand to finish. Irritation flashed on Vanessa's face when she looked up and recognized him. He smiled, contrite.
"Hey, can we talk?"
"I'm not sure there’s anything to talk about."
Obviously this was not going to be easy.
"I'm sorry about last night, really."
She turned to face him.
"Look, I guess you didn't expect to be caught cheating, but it just sucked for me, okay?"
"We weren't together. I had no idea he'd come in like that and throw a fit."
Vanessa sighed deeply and then a corner of her mouth twitched up.
"You weren't together, huh? And now?"
Looking away, Sam felt his cheeks start to heat and Vanessa chuckled.
"I see. Well, lucky him, then."
Sam smiled back as she took her place at the table. Vanessa pointed to the seat where he had played the night before.
"Want to check if you’ve still got it tonight?" Sitting down, Sam nodded and Vanessa looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Is it James, or..."
"Samuel is my middle name, whatever you want," Sam said, laying his $50,000 down.
Vanessa greeted the table and dealt the cards, starting a new game. It turned out that the other players at the table were better this time, so things were a little more challenging, but it was also a lot more fun, because a couple of newlyweds were absolutely hilarious, bantering and cracking one joke after the other, making everyone laugh. Still, Sam had a pretty good streak, almost enough to rival the previous night’s, although he was careful not to let his stack grow too much.
He was just about to check his watch for the fifth time in less than ten minutes when a warm and heavy hand settled on the back of his neck. Sam leaned into the familiar touch and smiled up at Dean, the worries about whether he would be okay bleeding out in an instant. His brother looked absolutely gorgeous in a body-fitting black shirt under a well-cut black jacket, his hair artfully tousled with gel.
"Hey there," Dean said. "Doing good?"
"Not bad. How did it go?"
Dean winked, made the coin appear in his hand like a magic trick, and then put it in Sam's tuxedo chest pocket, tapping on it.
"A walk in the park."
"Cool."
"Would you like to take a seat, sir?"
Vanessa asked and Dean turned his attention to her. He smiled.
"No thanks, sweetheart. I think I've messed with his game enough as it is. Sorry about that by the way. Nothing personal."
Vanessa laughed and shook her head.
"Okay then. Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets."
Dean stayed by Sam's chair as the next round started, standing just close enough to be distracting. Sam had been playing for maybe half an hour when he felt the coin in his pocket suddenly become very cold. Straightening up, he elbowed Dean who bent his head to hear what he had to say.
"Check the readings, now."
Dean frowned as he got the fancy EMF meter out of his pocket.
"Felt something?"
"Yeah."
The cold spot was spreading, and fast. Sam saw the woman next to him shiver and rub her arms. Sam knew that having a pissed-off ghost materialize in the middle of a crowded room was not the best of ideas, so when Dean showed him the screen where the readings were building up. Sam got to his feet. Vanessa looked at him curiously.
"Hey, can I leave that here?" he asked, pointing to his stack. "I'll be back in a few."
He didn't even wait for her to agree before he was taking off as fast as he could without flat-out running, Dean on his heels. He just hoped the ghost would follow them and leave everyone else alone.
"Seems it's staying with us." Dean said, rapidly scanning as they moved. "We need some salt, man."
Thinking fast, Sam considered going back to the room, but that was pretty far. The most immediate solution was one of the restaurants. Maybe it was because the spirit of Benny Lister was almost reunited with his infamous lucky coin, but as they walked past the slot machines they started to spin and ding all at the same time, making the almost zombified patrons perk up as money began pouring out of them. Sam could see his breath condense now, and the air around him had become arctic cold. In their wake, furniture was shaking and small objects were starting to fly, which was definitely attracting attention. They broke into a run and when they reached the Grotto, Sam pointed to the service door.
"Over here!"
Barging in, he almost ran over a waiter, who dropped his tray and several dishes onto the floor. The man started to curse vehemently, but Sam could only cry out, "Sorry! Sorry!"
The employees gaped at them as if they were aliens when Dean grabbed a big pan off one of the stoves and dropped it onto floor. Sam dug in his pocket, and the coin felt like it burned his skin, it was so cold. He managed to toss it in the pan as Dean unscrewed the top of a salt shaker and dropped its contents on top. Looking around, Sam saw a torch which was probably more used to caramelizing crème brulée than burning cursed objects. He skidded to his knees beside the pot, gesturing Dean for a light to start the torch. By then, Lister's spirit had halfway materialized: he was a very ordinary little man, with glasses and a shiny bald head, and the sight of him would have been almost laughable if he had not been able to make big ass knives fly all over the place. A woman screamed and suddenly the kitchen was emptying fast.
"Hurry up, Dean!"
His brother threw him his lighter and then stood up to grab a frying pan, which he used to shield them from the flying cutlery.
"Son of a bitch! He's one mean fucker! Light it up Sam!"
But it was already done and Sam watched with satisfaction as the tin coin start to melt in the middle of bright orange flames. A flying barbecue fork fell to the ground in mid-flight, Lister's ghost made an ear-splitting screech of frustration and then he flickered out of existence, leaving Sam and Dean panting loudly, still wired with adrenaline as they looked around them.
"We got him, right?" Sam asked.
"Looks like it!"
They grinned at each other and Dean offered Sam a hand up. Swiping at his pants, Sam tried to brush the dirt off his knees. He looked up to see Dean staring at him with hungry eyes, sending a thrill through him.
"So fucking hot. And you don't even know it."
Of course his brother was one to talk, looking like a model right out of GQ.
"You’re just saying that because hunting makes you horny," Sam teased. He could tell that Dean was about to back him against the counter and prove just how right he was about that when they heard a loud voice approaching.
"I said, back to work! There are no such things as ghosts!"
The brothers shared a look. Obviously trouble was coming fast. They didn't waste one instant in making the decision to run for the back door. Some things were just better left unexplained, if you had the chance. They didn't stop running until they turned the corner of the back alley and found themselves directly in front of the Fremont Street Experience. The street was covered with a ceiling of brilliant lights and a gigantic screen, and a light and sound show was going on, which meant everyone was looking upwards and didn't even take notice of them. They mingled with the crowd, trying to disappear in case there was someone following. Sam chanced a look behind but didn't see anything.
"I don't know if our description was given to security," Dean stated, "but we'll look less suspicious if we go back in separately."
Sam winced.
"You think it's a good idea? Maybe we should just take off."
Shrugging, Dean passed a hand over his face.
"I don't know, man. It went pretty fast. We can't leave all the money there, and the file and the computer are still in the room. That’ll attract too much attention - if we haven’t already."
Sam didn't give a damn about the money, but it was true that Ash would probably castrate him if he left the laptop behind. But after all they had been through with the FBI, it would suck big time if they found out they were alive after all, so Sam nodded his agreement. Dean pointed to the balcony on the second floor.
"Look, there's a nightclub up there. Go try and get the money and we'll meet there. If it seems fishy in the poker room, just leave it and call to let me know where to meet you."
"Okay." Sam took a deep breath. "I'll go first."
**
The LCD TV's scattered about the club were showing Angus Young jumping around in his schoolboy uniform and girls riding mechanical bulls as Brian Johnson yelled about shaking all night long. The place was pretty packed, but Sam knew where to look as soon as he spotted the go-go dancers in lingerie and garters behind the bar. As expected, Dean was nursing a beer and enjoying the show from one of the front row seats. Sam sat on the stool at his left and the bartender came to him immediately.
"Martini. Shaken, not stirred."
He heard Dean snort and met his grin.
"So, it went okay?"
Sam nodded.
"Yeah. Though Vanessa smirked at seeing me out of breath and sweaty, I think she got the wrong idea."
Laughing, Dean took another swig of his beer.
"This place is awesome, dude," he said, looking around, only to let his eyes come back to Sam and travel up and down his body, with that leer that always had Sam wondering how Dean didn't get slapped more often, "but if you want to make her assumptions right, I have no objections."
Taking his drink from the bartender, Sam paid and sipped from it. He then threw an arm around Dean's shoulder and brought him in close enough to speak in his ear.
"I think we should go get the stuff in the room and haul ass before they watch the security camera footage."
Dean almost pouted.
"You're probably right."
"Then we switch casinos, find a room with the biggest bed we've ever seen and I take hours and hours to fuck you like you deserve. Maybe I'll even let you fuck me."
He had barely finished his sentence and Dean was up and on the way out. He turned back after a couple of steps, gesturing towards the hotel.
"C'mon Sammy! Places to be, things to do!"
Amused, Sam thanked his lucky stars that he had finally found a way to get Dean to stick with the plan from now on. In more ways than one, Dean was so, so screwed. Sam would make sure of it.
***
"You’ve got to be kidding me."
"Nope."
"You’re not yanking my chain?"
"I swear."
When Sam unlocked the doors on the Aston Martin, Dean's eyes lit up.
"Whoa."
Sam opened the driver's door, put his suitcase behind the seat and offered Dean the keys.
"I'll follow in the Impala, if you want."
Snatching the keys, Dean slid into the car and reverently caressed the dash, gear stick and the wheel, eyes wide with wonder. Sam laughed and was about to ask where the Impala was parked when Dean got out of the car. He turned away from it and gave back the keys to Sam. He looked almost sick.
"I... I can't."
Genuinely puzzled, Sam frowned.
"What? Why?"
Dean looked wracked with guilt.
"I just can't."
It dawned on Sam and he gaped.
"Jesus Dean, you can enjoy driving a car that isn’t..."
"I don't wanna. I'll follow you."
He started walking toward the parking garage and Sam threw his hands in the air.
"A car doesn't have feelings, Dean. She won't resent you!"
"Blah blah blah! Where are we going?"
Shaking his head, Sam sighed and pinched his nose.
"It doesn’t matter. You choose."
Dean grinned at him, walking backwards now.
"How about the one with the pyramid and the sphinx?"
Well, of course that would be Dean's preference, Sam shrugged.
"Okay. Meet you at the Luxor, then."
"Cool!"
Sam got in the car and turned the key, making sure to rev the motor a bit, just to tease Dean. Once past the surprise, Sam couldn’t help but smile at the thought that Dean wanted to stay faithful to his car. His brother had a lot of flaws, but he was loyal to the core. If he put half as much care into what they were starting together as he put into his wheels, Sam was sure that they'd be all right.
The End
Notes: I hope you liked it! Any and all comments are love ♥
I want to thank the awesome zelda_zee once more, because she really turned this into a readable fic. thanks so much!
AND my keyweegirlie loves me, because she made me MANY headers even with a busted hand and it was up to me to choose my favorite. Just showing one is lame, though, so here, have a small slideshow with the others! give her some love! thanks again Cassie, you are the best! and are one great faithful cheerleader, you totally made me feel better about this fic :)