Supernatural: Here Be Dragons
Title: Here Be Dragons
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 for Explicit Sexual Content (Tentacle Porn!) and Language
Word Count: 4,657
Author’s Note: This is my go at 50states_spn. I claimed Hawaii. I'm sure someone claimed Hawaii and did a really respectable job with it, researching legends and plotting casefic and all that good stuff. Yeah, this is not that story. I've never been to Hawaii, I did no research. I am relying entirely on stereotypes about the state and the fact that this fic has no legitimate plot. LALALALA, HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY. Thanks to lightthesparks for offering to make me art for this as a birthday present! We had a lot of fun with tentacles, and it is thanks to her and my terrible, enabling Twitter feed that this story went from "Sam and Dean fight a kraken and then have sex!" to "YAY TENTACLE PORN, WOOO!!!" Finally, thank you SO MUCH to oddishly and mistyzeo who beta'd this so last minute, I literally sent it to them like an hour ago and got it back by the time I was done in the shower. ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eos_rose, you can now read this and the timestamp in epub format here.
Summary: Sam cleverly tricks Dean into joining him on a romantic Hawaii getaway. Unfortunately (fortunately?) the kraken hunt he uses to convince Dean to agree to come has some unforeseen side effects. Namely, Sam starts sprouting tentacles.
Dean Winchester can read his brother's mind.
Whoa, okay. Not literally. This story would probably be a whole lot more interesting if he could. What Dean means when he looks at Sam and thinks 'I can read your mind, you big-headed moron' is that Sam is really pathetically transparent and he should just stop trying to hide anything at all from Dean.
Sam gets these ideas sometimes-everyone thinks Dean's the one with the bad ideas. Maybe they're right, but Sam's always there to be all level-headed and bitchy, so Dean's really bad ideas usually don't ever get to see the light of day. But when Sam gets a bad idea there's no one around to say no to him, because he bites his bottom lip and makes those big little brother eyes and fucking hell, Dean's not the one who's supposed to make judgment calls around here.
They almost always end up going through with Sam's harebrained plans, and pretty often it ends in disaster. Like Hawaii was supposed to.
As it turns out, Hawaii was basically Sam's best idea ever.
_______________________________________________________________
"Hawaii is an island, Sam," Dean says, sitting on his bed and facing his brother. "An island. With water on all sides. Did you forget that?"
"I know but-"
Dean points across the room at the map spread out on Sam's mattress. "See, right there? The giant blue spot on the map? That means water."
Sam rolls his eyes. "Yes, Dean, I know how to read a map, thank you."
"Right, okay then. So if you're so clever please tell me why you're trying to convince me to go on a hunt in Hawaii, which is surrounded on all sides by water, and can therefore only be reached by plane. You know how I feel about planes."
"Well, yeah, I know." Sam sighs. "But there's a hunt."
"Oh, wow! A hunt! You know where else there are hunts?" Dean stomps his foot on the ground. "Here. On the nice, solid continental United States. No planes!"
"Dean, planes are not-"
"None."
"That dangerous when you look at-"
"Whatsoever."
"Statistics," Sam finishes weakly.
"I just want you to tell me why this is suddenly so important to you," Dean says, leaning forward a little.
Sam ducks his head, pretending he's really interested in the godawful pattern on the motel walls. He's totally trying to hide a blush. Dean manages not to laugh.
See, Sam is trying to be smooth here. And Dean knows how this is probably going to end, how everything always fucking ends with him and Sam if Sam really wants it enough. But Sam's little plan this time goes against everything Dean believes in on multiple levels, so he's going to put up the best fight he can manage.
Next Thursday is what would be their anniversary if they had an anniversary, which they don't, because they're not only two grown men, they're brothers. Fucking your brother is one thing, but it does not mean Dean is about to walk down black-sanded beaches holding Sam's hand and wearing flowers in his hair. They're not dating-Dean doesn't take Sam out to the Red Lobster or buy him pretty things. It's not like they're going to get married someday. So just no. They've never celebrated the anniversary thing before-never even acknowledged that both of them know the date of what would be their anniversary if they had one-and there's no damn reason to start now.
In Hawaii of all places.
"I'm sure there're hunters in Hawaii who can deal with whatever the problem is," Dean reasons.
"Well," Sam replies cleverly. "Well, yeah, but-"
"Well yeah but what?"
Sam fidgets. "It could be romantic," he blurts out.
Dean barks a laugh. "I knew it," he says. "Dude, your vagina is just hanging out for everyone to see."
"You're such a dick sometimes."
Dean shrugs, because yeah pretty much. Sam is frowning, though. Not just a little frowning, either, it's one of those really disappointed ones, as if he didn't expect Dean to turn this down. It makes Dean itch. It makes him wonder how many anniversaries Sam got to celebrate with Jess before it all got fucked up, and if that's the kind of thing Sam still misses, even now.
It makes him give just an inch. "What's this stupid hunt, anyway?"
Sam doesn't quite look up, but his eyes dodge in Dean's direction, and Dean can tell he's struggling to hide his excitement. Dean has a sinking suspicion Sam hasn't played his ace yet, is just putting on the pout because he knew it would work. "A kraken," he says.
Dean's eyes widen-because okay, coolest fucking hunt ever-and Sam's head snaps up then, a smug smile taking up half of his face. "Our flight leaves at 3 tomorrow."
That sneaky little fucker can read Dean's mind, too.
_______________________________________________________________
"I'd better be joining the Mile High Club today," Dean says, gritting his teeth and gripping his arm rest so tight his fingers ache. "And on the flight back, too."
Sam slips a hand onto Dean's lap, leaning very close as he whispers, "You say that like you're asking for something I wasn't planning to give you anyway."
Sam's mouth starts doing something complicated with Dean's ear then, and Dean's eyes slip shut as they slide back in his head. He learns two things on that flight: a) airplane bathrooms are not a comfortable place to get head, and b) Sam's mouth is good enough to get around that.
_______________________________________________________________
Krakens, as it turns out, aren't that hard to kill. If you go about it smart, that is. A good hunter with a little research done (Sam) knows before ever even finding the sea monster that all you have to do is inject some volcanic ash into their brains, and bam. They turn into sea foam.
The problem is that most people who hunt krakens aren't Sam, so they go into it the old fashion way, hacking at it wherever they can and hoping they get lucky and hit something vital (like Dean was planning to do, and it sounded like more fun, anyway). This is a bad idea, apparently, on account of krakens are really fucking big and the chances of stabbing something important before it snaps you in half are pretty slim.
Whatever. The point is, day two and so far Dean has gotten into zero fist fights with giant squid monsters and is instead hiking halfway up a mountain that is actually a volcano-an active one that could blow its top any second-to gather some fucking volcanic dirt that smells like a demon if that demon was taking a shit.
This vacation? Sucks.
Sam's loving it, though. Every five seconds it's, 'oh, look, pretty clouds' or 'wow, Dean, did you know this bird is one of the oldest living…' and 'don't touch that plant you already have your hand on, it could give you hives.'
This vacation really sucks.
Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow there will be swashbuckling and big splotches of inky black blood, and Dean will feel like a man again, instead of like a kid taking a tour on the Magic School Bus. Sam isn't even half as hot as that red-headed teacher lady.
_______________________________________________________________
The battle rages on for a solid hour and a half. The battle over which one of them is the biggest idiot, that is.
Sam thinks it's Dean because of some whiny shit Dean's not listening to. Dean's pretty sure it's Sam, though, because they flew all the way to Hawaii and have been sitting on a raft in the middle of the ocean waiting for a monster to jump up and eat them, and even in the best of cases, Dean is only now realizing they have no way to get back to shore after they've killed the damn thing.
If it even exists. Dean's seen no evidence. So okay, Sam showed him the reports in the paper, and they saw the bodies, half eaten and half strangled, and Dean knows Sam didn't make the hunt up. But there's no reason, five hours later, for them still to be waiting for the fucking thing to come get them.
Dean throws a packet of salt he finds in his jacket pocket as far as he can. Sam reaches out, slapping his hand. "Would you quit that? You're polluting!"
"Just trying to get a rise out of it."
"With a salt packet, Dean?"
Dean shrugs. "Worked for the Fellowship."
"Those were rocks," Sam says, then catches a glimpse of Dean's smirk and sighs. "I'm not encouraging you. You're being an idiot."
"I'm bored," Dean whines. "Sammy, I'm bored."
"I know!" Sam throws his hands into the air. "You've told me no less than fifty times in the last hour."
"Hey, if you're counting, you must be pretty bored, too."
Sam huffs.
Dean inches over on the raft, pressing the side of his body against Sam's. "Let's go back to the motel room and fuck."
Sam points at the open ocean. "There's a monster out there."
"Supposedly." Dean leans closer, sucking at Sam's neck. He's all sweaty and kind of delicious. "I could kill some time for us while we wait, then."
Sam's breath quickens, but then he sits up straight and Dean gets knocked a little out of the way. "Dean, do you see that island?"
"It's Hawaii," Dean mutters. "Your idea."
He tries to go back in for another taste, but Sam holds him at arm's length. "No, not that island. That one." Sam points forward. "I don't think it was there before."
Dean blinks into the distance. There is a little spec of land off on the horizon, and maybe it was there before and maybe it wasn't. Maybe they're getting sunstroke and imagining it. Maybe it just keeps getting bigger the longer Dean looks at it, as if it's…
"It's moving," says Sam. "That island is-"
"Not an island," Dean replies, and then the first of the tentacles surfaces.
_______________________________________________________________
Dean ends up getting in plenty of mindless hacking and stabbing time before the end of it. The kraken is less a giant squid than it is a slimey version of the sand monster from Star Wars with eight giant, flailing arms. It's…yeah, it's pretty much the coolest thing ever.
Sam uses the tentacles as ladders to the monster's main body, which is a kind of terrible idea, and Dean gets to keep it busy so it doesn't eat, drown, or mangle his brother while he tries to reach its brain and lavabotomize the fucker.
Dean's crowning achievement is stabbing his sword right into the overgrown octopus' eye and coming back with a big, purple eyeball dangling right at the end of the blade. It's so awesome Dean stops fighting a few seconds to gawk at it, which gives the monster enough time to be both really pissed off and suddenly aware of Sam.
Dean sees Sam take one giant slap from a tentacle (which is going to be nothing but hilarious if they live through this) before he yells out for Dean to get focused, and Dean slingshots the eyeball off his sword, aiming it so it hits the kraken right in the face.
It doesn't like that very much, forgets about Sam immediately and turns its squiggly fury back on Dean. It's then that Sam pokes his needle into the thing's head and before Dean's even completely registered what's going on, they're caught in the middle of a wave of foam, heading back to the shore of the island they left from.
They hardly even have to swim in the end. They pretty much just wash up on shore, look at each other, laugh, and make out until they realize how unfortunate it is to try fucking in sand.
_______________________________________________________________
Dean wakes up the next morning with an arm wrapped tight around his middle. Too tight. He laughs, because all these years and Sam still bothers with stealth cuddling, which is a kind of nice way to wake up on anniversaries, which today isn't, except for how it kind of is.
He puts his hand high on what he thinks is Sam's forearm, and then he tries to jump out of his skin. He can't move that much, the hold's too tight. But Sam's arm is slimy, hairless, and…are those suckers?
"Sam," Dean says. "Sam, are you awake?"
A few seconds of silence and finally some rustling on the other side of the bed. "What? What do you want from me?"
"I think you might-"
Sam sits up and yelps, and the…thing…around Dean lets go. "What is that?" he yells, his hands flying into the air hysterically. Next to them, a tentacle wiggles as if it's trying to wave hello. It looks like it's coming out of Sam's back.
There is a tentacle growing out of his brother's back. Dean closes his eyes, lets that sink in for a moment, and opens them again. Still there. It's like there's a neon sign going off next to Sam's head that says, 'Good morning, Dean. You're still a Winchester.'
"Our lives are weird," he mutters, giving Sam a quick kiss and pushing the blankets aside as he gets out of bed. "I'll make some coffee."
_______________________________________________________________
They try to figure it out for the first few hours of the next day. Sam finds some reports of sea monster victims who have reported similar incidents, though conveniently, they all leave out the part about how to get rid of them. One guy with a testimonial on a website Dean checks says something about hookers in Bankok helping him, but he's pretty sure it's safe to ignore that one. Aside from that, they've really got nothing, except a lump on Sam's back where the kraken's sucker left a deep, dark hickey and a big, wet limb growing out of it.
"We've still got some ash," Dean says. "I could try injecting-"
"You're not injecting freaking ashes into me, dude. You saw what it did to the giant monster, how much better do you think I'm gonna fare?"
Dean shrugs.
"Cut it off," Sam says.
"What?"
"Just cut it off!" Sam digs into his duffel and comes back up with a machete. He holds it out to Dean. "Go on, then."
Dean looks at the blade dubiously. "What if it hurts you?"
"Dean, there is a tentacle growing out of my back right now."
Dean nods and chops away.
Turns out tentacles grow back when you do that. Double.
_______________________________________________________________
They go out to dinner because they have no food inside the room and Sam can hide his new appendages under clothing. They curl up on his back as soon as he tries to put a shirt on, though he swears a lot about how uncomfortable it is. It doesn't look too unusual. Except for how Sam is Quasimodo all of a sudden.
"That's a shame," Dean hears one of the girls at the next table whisper to her friend. "They were both so cute until the whole-"
"Yeah, poor guy," the friend replies. "Wonder if they can fix that."
Sam stares forward, his face all awkward and uncomfortable. Dean opens his mouth, and Sam cuts him off. "Not. one. word," he says.
Dean just laughs.
_______________________________________________________________
Dean gets a brilliant idea while they're out to dinner, so he swipes the salt shaker off their table and waits until they're back in their motel to present it to Sam.
"They're not slugs," Sam says, the end of one tentacle attempting to snake its way out of the sleeve of his shirt. "That's not going to work."
"Why not?" he asks. "It totally could."
"It lives in salt water, Dean! Salt isn't going to make them shrivel up and die."
"Ah, but it lives in salt water. Without the water part, they might just shrivel up and die."
Sam sighs and lets Dean try out his experiment. Well, it turns out salt only makes them stronger, so that's how Sam gets his third tentacle. And his fourth.
At that point, they've got two options. Have a giant screaming match and fight for the rest of this trip or give up on solving the tentacle problem today and try to take the rest of the night easy.
Surprisingly, they make the responsible choice. Dean lets Sam have the remote, because the poor guy is sprouting tentacles left and right and then left again and then right again. And as it turns out, it's not all that bad. Sam's new limbs are kind of fun.
In fact, they're really fun. Dean suspects they're the fun Sam keeps buried under all his stern glances, because he can control them when he pays attention to them, but right now, when his attention is fixed on the World's Most Boring Documentary About Pirates Ever they're nothing but a good time. It reminds Dean of that Doctor Sexy episode where the guy kept getting taken over by his Id or whatever it was called and cursing in church. Dean always knew his little brother had some enjoyable qualities locked up somewhere.
Dean grins and looks into the mirror across the room. He's got a big tentacle mustache, and it's really amusing, so he turns to his brother. "Hey Sam," Dean says. "Sam, Sam, look."
Sam sighs, grudgingly turning to look at Dean. "What?"
"It's-a me! Mario!"
Sam snorts, but then he schools the amusement right out of his expression. "Stop playing with them, Dean."
Dean frowns, and the tentacle stubbornly stays where it was. It's nice to have someone backing him up for once. "But-"
"You're such a child." Sam shakes his head, apparently engaging in a mental battle of wills with the tentacle until it finally lets go and slips off Dean's face and back under the shirt Sam's wearing, unbuttoned because there are too many tentacles now to close it, but apparently Sam is too self-conscious about the whole thing to just go half naked. Which is a shame. Dean will take anything to look at that isn't the History Channel at this point, and an undressed Sam isn't exactly hard on his eyes.
Dean glares. "You should appreciate me a little more, Sam," he says. "Who put that tacky Hawaiian shirt on your back?"
Sam's face gets all scrunchy and then a light bulb goes on over his head. "Jeremiah Smithington."
"I'm Jeremiah Smithington!" Dean reminds him.
"No, your illegal credit card is Jeremiah Smithington." He lies back down on his stomach. "Now shut up. I'm trying to watch this."
All goes well for about 15 minutes, until Sam is fully immersed in his nerdy shit again, and then all goes a whole lot better. Because one of the tentacles manages to slip away while Sam's distracted and it immediately goes for Dean's dick. Yup. Totally Sam's subconscious.
Dean lets it nudge at him for a few seconds just out of curiosity, then reaches down and touches it. On the bed next to him, a shiver goes through Sam, and Dean watches as it spirals around his wrist, rubbing against him. "Dude, I think your tentacles have a thing for me."
Sam looks over, sees Dean stroking the sucker-lined bottom of one of his new limbs and tries to scoot away. "Would you stop that?"
Dean shrugs. "Hey, they're kind of dick shaped. Do you think they could-I mean, what do you think would happen if-?"
Sam sits up, tugs the tentacle back. "I said stop it," he says, his voice getting all breathy, "you're so fucking weird sometimes."
"I know that voice," Dean says, crawling closer. "That's your 'I'm trying to be pissed off but mostly I'm just turned on' voice."
"I'm not turned-"
Dean reaches out for another one of the tentacles, strokes up and down the tip of it. Sam cuts himself off with a moan, and Dean should probably be a little weirded out by this, but mostly it's really cool and kind of getting him hard just watching the way Sam's mouth drops open as Dean's hands work up and down the length of the tentacle.
Then another one comes up behind Dean, pokes him on the shoulder, and when Dean turns to face it, it pushes against his bottom lip. Dean can't help that he opens up to that. Sam's got him pretty well trained.
"Dean," Sam gasps when Dean starts suckling on the end of it. He falls back into the bed, only he can't really fall into it because he's got four tentacles holding him up. "Stop."
Dean pulls his mouth off the salty tip. "You really want me to stop?"
Two of the other tentacles are working to get Dean's boxers off now, and Sam is watching them with dark eyes. He looks up, meets Dean's heated glance with his own, and shakes his head. Dean smiles, goes with it when yet another tentacle curls around the back of his head and pushes him back down. He starts sucking, as if this really was just any dick instead of some crazy shit, and Sam groans loudly.
Dean's eyes are half lidded as he works his mouth on Sam, so he doesn't see the explosion or realize when four more tentacles spring up on Sam and head right for him. Dean gets thrown across the room, hits the empty wall across the bed from Sam. He's got one thick tentacle wrapped around both his arms, another two on each of his legs, pinning him up so he can't move.
"Jesus," he says. "What the-?"
And then he gets cut off, because his mouth is shoved full again, and Dean feels another snakelike appendage crawling up his leg and they already got his boxers off, so he's naked, and he's got a feeling he knows where this is going and also suspects he's way more excited about it than he should be.
"Dean, is that-are you okay?" Sam can hardly talk he's so turned on, and Dean is nearly gagging, but he moans around the tentacle anyway, his whole body shuddering when he feels the thin, slimy tip of one of the tentacles pressing against his hole.
It goes nice and slow at first, pushing into Dean and stretching him out. It's already wet, and it widens the further it goes, so Dean's body adjusts to it fine, except for how his brain is still a little freaked out and a whole lot too turned on to process. God, it's huge, and it just keeps getting bigger, keeps pushing and pushing into Dean until he wants to yell out that he can't take anymore. But he can't, his mouth is full, and the tentacles are just not interested in hearing it. It's more than he's ever taken, more than he can take, and it's not letting up. The tip presses into Dean's prostate, curling there so more and more of it can fit inside. It's just shoved up against him, squirming and hitting every nerve Dean's got, and Dean has no way to express how good it is except sucking harder as the first tentacle slips deeper and deeper into his throat.
Across the room, Dean can see Sam perfectly. He's spread out on the bed, one tentacle is wrapped around his upper body, holding his arms in place. Sam is trying to fight it; Dean can tell it's not because he doesn't like this. Sam just wants his hand on his dick, but apparently the tentacles have taken over and they're getting a little payback for how well-behaved Sam has forced them to be all day.
They like Dean, though, so one of the remaining two members finds his dick, wraps around the base of it, and starts to spiral up, until Dean's cock is enveloped, wrapped up tight in hot and wet and, fuck. It's so tight-it's like fucking Sam only there are suckers all over, like little mouths teasing him, too. Dean can't even thrust, he's shoved against the wall without anywhere to go, but the tentacles undulate around him and inside him, fucking vibrating, even his balls are getting stimulated and-yeah, it's too much. It's too much before Dean looks up and sees Sam, big, beautiful Sam, legs spread wide fucking open and the last of his own tentacles splitting him open, fucking him rough and hard.
The look on Sam's face is-Dean would think he was about to descend to Heaven if he couldn't see how debauched the rest of him is. Dean moans again, must send a wave all the way from the tentacle he's got in his mouth to Sam, because Sam jerks, gasping out something filthy, then Dean's name, and Dean spills, his come making it even slipperier as his dick slips and slides inside the tentacle's grip.
Sam turns his head, cursing into his pillow, begging for a hand on his dick. Dean licks the bottom of the appendage in his mouth and squeezes his ass tight around the one inside of him hoping it'll be enough stimulation to get his little brother off. It must be, because Sam screams louder then, and Dean gets the whole fucking show. There's nothing touching Sam's cock, nothing obstructing Dean's view. He just gets to watch as Sam shoots his come higher than Dean's ever seen him do it, and it's so hot Dean wants to do this whole thing all over again.
He slides to the floor then, finding he can breathe through his mouth. He takes a few gasping breaths, then realizes the room is suddenly (tragically) void of all tentacles. He stands up. The room is also soaked, and Sam is staring up at the ceiling like his brain is only starting to fire again.
"Guh," he says, sitting up.
"Yeah," Dean agrees, crawling up onto the bed. He touches Sam, runs a hand over his body and then slides it behind him, checking for extra limbs. "They're gone," he says.
"I think," Sam replies, breath still heavy as he sits up, "I think I saw them explode into sea foam when I fini-"
"But why," Dean asks. He turns Sam over. There are still eight big red circles on his back, but no glorious mega-dicks with suckers attached. "Why are they gone?"
"Maybe they're like bee stingers."
"Huh?"
"You know. They only work once."
Dean lets go of Sam, watches him roll onto his back, and looks his brother in the face. "But why are they gone?" he asks again.
Sam laughs, pulling Dean down for a kiss. "Because it was either them or me," he says.
Dean looks despondently at the room around them. He really misses those tentacles. Like, probably slightly less than he would miss Sam, but it's not an easy choice.
"Fuck you," Sam says, slapping his shoulder.
"Ow. What was that for?" Dean asks, rubbing his shoulder and trying to look innocent.
"I heard what you were thinking," says Sam.
Dean smiles, leans down and kisses Sam. "You know I'd choose you over tentacles like 80% of the time."
"That's so romantic, Dean."
Dean falls onto his back next to Sam. He makes a face. Talk about sleeping in the wet spot. Their whole fucking room is the wet spot right now. Sam wraps an arm around him though, and it's nice and warm instead of wet and cool, so that's an improvement at least.
"Hey Sam," Dean says, realizing what day it is.
Sam's already half-asleep. "Mmm," he replies, eyes closed, a content, fucked-out smile on his face.
"Happy anniversary, man."
Sam opens one eye. Dean can tell he's pleasantly surprised, but then Sam smiles wickedly. "Girl," he says.
Dean shrugs and curls into his brother's chest.
HERE BE ART
Here Be a Timestamp!
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 for Explicit Sexual Content (Tentacle Porn!) and Language
Word Count: 4,657
Author’s Note: This is my go at 50states_spn. I claimed Hawaii. I'm sure someone claimed Hawaii and did a really respectable job with it, researching legends and plotting casefic and all that good stuff. Yeah, this is not that story. I've never been to Hawaii, I did no research. I am relying entirely on stereotypes about the state and the fact that this fic has no legitimate plot. LALALALA, HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY. Thanks to lightthesparks for offering to make me art for this as a birthday present! We had a lot of fun with tentacles, and it is thanks to her and my terrible, enabling Twitter feed that this story went from "Sam and Dean fight a kraken and then have sex!" to "YAY TENTACLE PORN, WOOO!!!" Finally, thank you SO MUCH to oddishly and mistyzeo who beta'd this so last minute, I literally sent it to them like an hour ago and got it back by the time I was done in the shower. ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eos_rose, you can now read this and the timestamp in epub format here.
Summary: Sam cleverly tricks Dean into joining him on a romantic Hawaii getaway. Unfortunately (fortunately?) the kraken hunt he uses to convince Dean to agree to come has some unforeseen side effects. Namely, Sam starts sprouting tentacles.
Dean Winchester can read his brother's mind.
Whoa, okay. Not literally. This story would probably be a whole lot more interesting if he could. What Dean means when he looks at Sam and thinks 'I can read your mind, you big-headed moron' is that Sam is really pathetically transparent and he should just stop trying to hide anything at all from Dean.
Sam gets these ideas sometimes-everyone thinks Dean's the one with the bad ideas. Maybe they're right, but Sam's always there to be all level-headed and bitchy, so Dean's really bad ideas usually don't ever get to see the light of day. But when Sam gets a bad idea there's no one around to say no to him, because he bites his bottom lip and makes those big little brother eyes and fucking hell, Dean's not the one who's supposed to make judgment calls around here.
They almost always end up going through with Sam's harebrained plans, and pretty often it ends in disaster. Like Hawaii was supposed to.
As it turns out, Hawaii was basically Sam's best idea ever.
_______________________________________________________________
"Hawaii is an island, Sam," Dean says, sitting on his bed and facing his brother. "An island. With water on all sides. Did you forget that?"
"I know but-"
Dean points across the room at the map spread out on Sam's mattress. "See, right there? The giant blue spot on the map? That means water."
Sam rolls his eyes. "Yes, Dean, I know how to read a map, thank you."
"Right, okay then. So if you're so clever please tell me why you're trying to convince me to go on a hunt in Hawaii, which is surrounded on all sides by water, and can therefore only be reached by plane. You know how I feel about planes."
"Well, yeah, I know." Sam sighs. "But there's a hunt."
"Oh, wow! A hunt! You know where else there are hunts?" Dean stomps his foot on the ground. "Here. On the nice, solid continental United States. No planes!"
"Dean, planes are not-"
"None."
"That dangerous when you look at-"
"Whatsoever."
"Statistics," Sam finishes weakly.
"I just want you to tell me why this is suddenly so important to you," Dean says, leaning forward a little.
Sam ducks his head, pretending he's really interested in the godawful pattern on the motel walls. He's totally trying to hide a blush. Dean manages not to laugh.
See, Sam is trying to be smooth here. And Dean knows how this is probably going to end, how everything always fucking ends with him and Sam if Sam really wants it enough. But Sam's little plan this time goes against everything Dean believes in on multiple levels, so he's going to put up the best fight he can manage.
Next Thursday is what would be their anniversary if they had an anniversary, which they don't, because they're not only two grown men, they're brothers. Fucking your brother is one thing, but it does not mean Dean is about to walk down black-sanded beaches holding Sam's hand and wearing flowers in his hair. They're not dating-Dean doesn't take Sam out to the Red Lobster or buy him pretty things. It's not like they're going to get married someday. So just no. They've never celebrated the anniversary thing before-never even acknowledged that both of them know the date of what would be their anniversary if they had one-and there's no damn reason to start now.
In Hawaii of all places.
"I'm sure there're hunters in Hawaii who can deal with whatever the problem is," Dean reasons.
"Well," Sam replies cleverly. "Well, yeah, but-"
"Well yeah but what?"
Sam fidgets. "It could be romantic," he blurts out.
Dean barks a laugh. "I knew it," he says. "Dude, your vagina is just hanging out for everyone to see."
"You're such a dick sometimes."
Dean shrugs, because yeah pretty much. Sam is frowning, though. Not just a little frowning, either, it's one of those really disappointed ones, as if he didn't expect Dean to turn this down. It makes Dean itch. It makes him wonder how many anniversaries Sam got to celebrate with Jess before it all got fucked up, and if that's the kind of thing Sam still misses, even now.
It makes him give just an inch. "What's this stupid hunt, anyway?"
Sam doesn't quite look up, but his eyes dodge in Dean's direction, and Dean can tell he's struggling to hide his excitement. Dean has a sinking suspicion Sam hasn't played his ace yet, is just putting on the pout because he knew it would work. "A kraken," he says.
Dean's eyes widen-because okay, coolest fucking hunt ever-and Sam's head snaps up then, a smug smile taking up half of his face. "Our flight leaves at 3 tomorrow."
That sneaky little fucker can read Dean's mind, too.
_______________________________________________________________
"I'd better be joining the Mile High Club today," Dean says, gritting his teeth and gripping his arm rest so tight his fingers ache. "And on the flight back, too."
Sam slips a hand onto Dean's lap, leaning very close as he whispers, "You say that like you're asking for something I wasn't planning to give you anyway."
Sam's mouth starts doing something complicated with Dean's ear then, and Dean's eyes slip shut as they slide back in his head. He learns two things on that flight: a) airplane bathrooms are not a comfortable place to get head, and b) Sam's mouth is good enough to get around that.
_______________________________________________________________
Krakens, as it turns out, aren't that hard to kill. If you go about it smart, that is. A good hunter with a little research done (Sam) knows before ever even finding the sea monster that all you have to do is inject some volcanic ash into their brains, and bam. They turn into sea foam.
The problem is that most people who hunt krakens aren't Sam, so they go into it the old fashion way, hacking at it wherever they can and hoping they get lucky and hit something vital (like Dean was planning to do, and it sounded like more fun, anyway). This is a bad idea, apparently, on account of krakens are really fucking big and the chances of stabbing something important before it snaps you in half are pretty slim.
Whatever. The point is, day two and so far Dean has gotten into zero fist fights with giant squid monsters and is instead hiking halfway up a mountain that is actually a volcano-an active one that could blow its top any second-to gather some fucking volcanic dirt that smells like a demon if that demon was taking a shit.
This vacation? Sucks.
Sam's loving it, though. Every five seconds it's, 'oh, look, pretty clouds' or 'wow, Dean, did you know this bird is one of the oldest living…' and 'don't touch that plant you already have your hand on, it could give you hives.'
This vacation really sucks.
Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow there will be swashbuckling and big splotches of inky black blood, and Dean will feel like a man again, instead of like a kid taking a tour on the Magic School Bus. Sam isn't even half as hot as that red-headed teacher lady.
_______________________________________________________________
The battle rages on for a solid hour and a half. The battle over which one of them is the biggest idiot, that is.
Sam thinks it's Dean because of some whiny shit Dean's not listening to. Dean's pretty sure it's Sam, though, because they flew all the way to Hawaii and have been sitting on a raft in the middle of the ocean waiting for a monster to jump up and eat them, and even in the best of cases, Dean is only now realizing they have no way to get back to shore after they've killed the damn thing.
If it even exists. Dean's seen no evidence. So okay, Sam showed him the reports in the paper, and they saw the bodies, half eaten and half strangled, and Dean knows Sam didn't make the hunt up. But there's no reason, five hours later, for them still to be waiting for the fucking thing to come get them.
Dean throws a packet of salt he finds in his jacket pocket as far as he can. Sam reaches out, slapping his hand. "Would you quit that? You're polluting!"
"Just trying to get a rise out of it."
"With a salt packet, Dean?"
Dean shrugs. "Worked for the Fellowship."
"Those were rocks," Sam says, then catches a glimpse of Dean's smirk and sighs. "I'm not encouraging you. You're being an idiot."
"I'm bored," Dean whines. "Sammy, I'm bored."
"I know!" Sam throws his hands into the air. "You've told me no less than fifty times in the last hour."
"Hey, if you're counting, you must be pretty bored, too."
Sam huffs.
Dean inches over on the raft, pressing the side of his body against Sam's. "Let's go back to the motel room and fuck."
Sam points at the open ocean. "There's a monster out there."
"Supposedly." Dean leans closer, sucking at Sam's neck. He's all sweaty and kind of delicious. "I could kill some time for us while we wait, then."
Sam's breath quickens, but then he sits up straight and Dean gets knocked a little out of the way. "Dean, do you see that island?"
"It's Hawaii," Dean mutters. "Your idea."
He tries to go back in for another taste, but Sam holds him at arm's length. "No, not that island. That one." Sam points forward. "I don't think it was there before."
Dean blinks into the distance. There is a little spec of land off on the horizon, and maybe it was there before and maybe it wasn't. Maybe they're getting sunstroke and imagining it. Maybe it just keeps getting bigger the longer Dean looks at it, as if it's…
"It's moving," says Sam. "That island is-"
"Not an island," Dean replies, and then the first of the tentacles surfaces.
_______________________________________________________________
Dean ends up getting in plenty of mindless hacking and stabbing time before the end of it. The kraken is less a giant squid than it is a slimey version of the sand monster from Star Wars with eight giant, flailing arms. It's…yeah, it's pretty much the coolest thing ever.
Sam uses the tentacles as ladders to the monster's main body, which is a kind of terrible idea, and Dean gets to keep it busy so it doesn't eat, drown, or mangle his brother while he tries to reach its brain and lavabotomize the fucker.
Dean's crowning achievement is stabbing his sword right into the overgrown octopus' eye and coming back with a big, purple eyeball dangling right at the end of the blade. It's so awesome Dean stops fighting a few seconds to gawk at it, which gives the monster enough time to be both really pissed off and suddenly aware of Sam.
Dean sees Sam take one giant slap from a tentacle (which is going to be nothing but hilarious if they live through this) before he yells out for Dean to get focused, and Dean slingshots the eyeball off his sword, aiming it so it hits the kraken right in the face.
It doesn't like that very much, forgets about Sam immediately and turns its squiggly fury back on Dean. It's then that Sam pokes his needle into the thing's head and before Dean's even completely registered what's going on, they're caught in the middle of a wave of foam, heading back to the shore of the island they left from.
They hardly even have to swim in the end. They pretty much just wash up on shore, look at each other, laugh, and make out until they realize how unfortunate it is to try fucking in sand.
_______________________________________________________________
Dean wakes up the next morning with an arm wrapped tight around his middle. Too tight. He laughs, because all these years and Sam still bothers with stealth cuddling, which is a kind of nice way to wake up on anniversaries, which today isn't, except for how it kind of is.
He puts his hand high on what he thinks is Sam's forearm, and then he tries to jump out of his skin. He can't move that much, the hold's too tight. But Sam's arm is slimy, hairless, and…are those suckers?
"Sam," Dean says. "Sam, are you awake?"
A few seconds of silence and finally some rustling on the other side of the bed. "What? What do you want from me?"
"I think you might-"
Sam sits up and yelps, and the…thing…around Dean lets go. "What is that?" he yells, his hands flying into the air hysterically. Next to them, a tentacle wiggles as if it's trying to wave hello. It looks like it's coming out of Sam's back.
There is a tentacle growing out of his brother's back. Dean closes his eyes, lets that sink in for a moment, and opens them again. Still there. It's like there's a neon sign going off next to Sam's head that says, 'Good morning, Dean. You're still a Winchester.'
"Our lives are weird," he mutters, giving Sam a quick kiss and pushing the blankets aside as he gets out of bed. "I'll make some coffee."
_______________________________________________________________
They try to figure it out for the first few hours of the next day. Sam finds some reports of sea monster victims who have reported similar incidents, though conveniently, they all leave out the part about how to get rid of them. One guy with a testimonial on a website Dean checks says something about hookers in Bankok helping him, but he's pretty sure it's safe to ignore that one. Aside from that, they've really got nothing, except a lump on Sam's back where the kraken's sucker left a deep, dark hickey and a big, wet limb growing out of it.
"We've still got some ash," Dean says. "I could try injecting-"
"You're not injecting freaking ashes into me, dude. You saw what it did to the giant monster, how much better do you think I'm gonna fare?"
Dean shrugs.
"Cut it off," Sam says.
"What?"
"Just cut it off!" Sam digs into his duffel and comes back up with a machete. He holds it out to Dean. "Go on, then."
Dean looks at the blade dubiously. "What if it hurts you?"
"Dean, there is a tentacle growing out of my back right now."
Dean nods and chops away.
Turns out tentacles grow back when you do that. Double.
_______________________________________________________________
They go out to dinner because they have no food inside the room and Sam can hide his new appendages under clothing. They curl up on his back as soon as he tries to put a shirt on, though he swears a lot about how uncomfortable it is. It doesn't look too unusual. Except for how Sam is Quasimodo all of a sudden.
"That's a shame," Dean hears one of the girls at the next table whisper to her friend. "They were both so cute until the whole-"
"Yeah, poor guy," the friend replies. "Wonder if they can fix that."
Sam stares forward, his face all awkward and uncomfortable. Dean opens his mouth, and Sam cuts him off. "Not. one. word," he says.
Dean just laughs.
_______________________________________________________________
Dean gets a brilliant idea while they're out to dinner, so he swipes the salt shaker off their table and waits until they're back in their motel to present it to Sam.
"They're not slugs," Sam says, the end of one tentacle attempting to snake its way out of the sleeve of his shirt. "That's not going to work."
"Why not?" he asks. "It totally could."
"It lives in salt water, Dean! Salt isn't going to make them shrivel up and die."
"Ah, but it lives in salt water. Without the water part, they might just shrivel up and die."
Sam sighs and lets Dean try out his experiment. Well, it turns out salt only makes them stronger, so that's how Sam gets his third tentacle. And his fourth.
At that point, they've got two options. Have a giant screaming match and fight for the rest of this trip or give up on solving the tentacle problem today and try to take the rest of the night easy.
Surprisingly, they make the responsible choice. Dean lets Sam have the remote, because the poor guy is sprouting tentacles left and right and then left again and then right again. And as it turns out, it's not all that bad. Sam's new limbs are kind of fun.
In fact, they're really fun. Dean suspects they're the fun Sam keeps buried under all his stern glances, because he can control them when he pays attention to them, but right now, when his attention is fixed on the World's Most Boring Documentary About Pirates Ever they're nothing but a good time. It reminds Dean of that Doctor Sexy episode where the guy kept getting taken over by his Id or whatever it was called and cursing in church. Dean always knew his little brother had some enjoyable qualities locked up somewhere.
Dean grins and looks into the mirror across the room. He's got a big tentacle mustache, and it's really amusing, so he turns to his brother. "Hey Sam," Dean says. "Sam, Sam, look."
Sam sighs, grudgingly turning to look at Dean. "What?"
"It's-a me! Mario!"
Sam snorts, but then he schools the amusement right out of his expression. "Stop playing with them, Dean."
Dean frowns, and the tentacle stubbornly stays where it was. It's nice to have someone backing him up for once. "But-"
"You're such a child." Sam shakes his head, apparently engaging in a mental battle of wills with the tentacle until it finally lets go and slips off Dean's face and back under the shirt Sam's wearing, unbuttoned because there are too many tentacles now to close it, but apparently Sam is too self-conscious about the whole thing to just go half naked. Which is a shame. Dean will take anything to look at that isn't the History Channel at this point, and an undressed Sam isn't exactly hard on his eyes.
Dean glares. "You should appreciate me a little more, Sam," he says. "Who put that tacky Hawaiian shirt on your back?"
Sam's face gets all scrunchy and then a light bulb goes on over his head. "Jeremiah Smithington."
"I'm Jeremiah Smithington!" Dean reminds him.
"No, your illegal credit card is Jeremiah Smithington." He lies back down on his stomach. "Now shut up. I'm trying to watch this."
All goes well for about 15 minutes, until Sam is fully immersed in his nerdy shit again, and then all goes a whole lot better. Because one of the tentacles manages to slip away while Sam's distracted and it immediately goes for Dean's dick. Yup. Totally Sam's subconscious.
Dean lets it nudge at him for a few seconds just out of curiosity, then reaches down and touches it. On the bed next to him, a shiver goes through Sam, and Dean watches as it spirals around his wrist, rubbing against him. "Dude, I think your tentacles have a thing for me."
Sam looks over, sees Dean stroking the sucker-lined bottom of one of his new limbs and tries to scoot away. "Would you stop that?"
Dean shrugs. "Hey, they're kind of dick shaped. Do you think they could-I mean, what do you think would happen if-?"
Sam sits up, tugs the tentacle back. "I said stop it," he says, his voice getting all breathy, "you're so fucking weird sometimes."
"I know that voice," Dean says, crawling closer. "That's your 'I'm trying to be pissed off but mostly I'm just turned on' voice."
"I'm not turned-"
Dean reaches out for another one of the tentacles, strokes up and down the tip of it. Sam cuts himself off with a moan, and Dean should probably be a little weirded out by this, but mostly it's really cool and kind of getting him hard just watching the way Sam's mouth drops open as Dean's hands work up and down the length of the tentacle.
Then another one comes up behind Dean, pokes him on the shoulder, and when Dean turns to face it, it pushes against his bottom lip. Dean can't help that he opens up to that. Sam's got him pretty well trained.
"Dean," Sam gasps when Dean starts suckling on the end of it. He falls back into the bed, only he can't really fall into it because he's got four tentacles holding him up. "Stop."
Dean pulls his mouth off the salty tip. "You really want me to stop?"
Two of the other tentacles are working to get Dean's boxers off now, and Sam is watching them with dark eyes. He looks up, meets Dean's heated glance with his own, and shakes his head. Dean smiles, goes with it when yet another tentacle curls around the back of his head and pushes him back down. He starts sucking, as if this really was just any dick instead of some crazy shit, and Sam groans loudly.
Dean's eyes are half lidded as he works his mouth on Sam, so he doesn't see the explosion or realize when four more tentacles spring up on Sam and head right for him. Dean gets thrown across the room, hits the empty wall across the bed from Sam. He's got one thick tentacle wrapped around both his arms, another two on each of his legs, pinning him up so he can't move.
"Jesus," he says. "What the-?"
And then he gets cut off, because his mouth is shoved full again, and Dean feels another snakelike appendage crawling up his leg and they already got his boxers off, so he's naked, and he's got a feeling he knows where this is going and also suspects he's way more excited about it than he should be.
"Dean, is that-are you okay?" Sam can hardly talk he's so turned on, and Dean is nearly gagging, but he moans around the tentacle anyway, his whole body shuddering when he feels the thin, slimy tip of one of the tentacles pressing against his hole.
It goes nice and slow at first, pushing into Dean and stretching him out. It's already wet, and it widens the further it goes, so Dean's body adjusts to it fine, except for how his brain is still a little freaked out and a whole lot too turned on to process. God, it's huge, and it just keeps getting bigger, keeps pushing and pushing into Dean until he wants to yell out that he can't take anymore. But he can't, his mouth is full, and the tentacles are just not interested in hearing it. It's more than he's ever taken, more than he can take, and it's not letting up. The tip presses into Dean's prostate, curling there so more and more of it can fit inside. It's just shoved up against him, squirming and hitting every nerve Dean's got, and Dean has no way to express how good it is except sucking harder as the first tentacle slips deeper and deeper into his throat.
Across the room, Dean can see Sam perfectly. He's spread out on the bed, one tentacle is wrapped around his upper body, holding his arms in place. Sam is trying to fight it; Dean can tell it's not because he doesn't like this. Sam just wants his hand on his dick, but apparently the tentacles have taken over and they're getting a little payback for how well-behaved Sam has forced them to be all day.
They like Dean, though, so one of the remaining two members finds his dick, wraps around the base of it, and starts to spiral up, until Dean's cock is enveloped, wrapped up tight in hot and wet and, fuck. It's so tight-it's like fucking Sam only there are suckers all over, like little mouths teasing him, too. Dean can't even thrust, he's shoved against the wall without anywhere to go, but the tentacles undulate around him and inside him, fucking vibrating, even his balls are getting stimulated and-yeah, it's too much. It's too much before Dean looks up and sees Sam, big, beautiful Sam, legs spread wide fucking open and the last of his own tentacles splitting him open, fucking him rough and hard.
The look on Sam's face is-Dean would think he was about to descend to Heaven if he couldn't see how debauched the rest of him is. Dean moans again, must send a wave all the way from the tentacle he's got in his mouth to Sam, because Sam jerks, gasping out something filthy, then Dean's name, and Dean spills, his come making it even slipperier as his dick slips and slides inside the tentacle's grip.
Sam turns his head, cursing into his pillow, begging for a hand on his dick. Dean licks the bottom of the appendage in his mouth and squeezes his ass tight around the one inside of him hoping it'll be enough stimulation to get his little brother off. It must be, because Sam screams louder then, and Dean gets the whole fucking show. There's nothing touching Sam's cock, nothing obstructing Dean's view. He just gets to watch as Sam shoots his come higher than Dean's ever seen him do it, and it's so hot Dean wants to do this whole thing all over again.
He slides to the floor then, finding he can breathe through his mouth. He takes a few gasping breaths, then realizes the room is suddenly (tragically) void of all tentacles. He stands up. The room is also soaked, and Sam is staring up at the ceiling like his brain is only starting to fire again.
"Guh," he says, sitting up.
"Yeah," Dean agrees, crawling up onto the bed. He touches Sam, runs a hand over his body and then slides it behind him, checking for extra limbs. "They're gone," he says.
"I think," Sam replies, breath still heavy as he sits up, "I think I saw them explode into sea foam when I fini-"
"But why," Dean asks. He turns Sam over. There are still eight big red circles on his back, but no glorious mega-dicks with suckers attached. "Why are they gone?"
"Maybe they're like bee stingers."
"Huh?"
"You know. They only work once."
Dean lets go of Sam, watches him roll onto his back, and looks his brother in the face. "But why are they gone?" he asks again.
Sam laughs, pulling Dean down for a kiss. "Because it was either them or me," he says.
Dean looks despondently at the room around them. He really misses those tentacles. Like, probably slightly less than he would miss Sam, but it's not an easy choice.
"Fuck you," Sam says, slapping his shoulder.
"Ow. What was that for?" Dean asks, rubbing his shoulder and trying to look innocent.
"I heard what you were thinking," says Sam.
Dean smiles, leans down and kisses Sam. "You know I'd choose you over tentacles like 80% of the time."
"That's so romantic, Dean."
Dean falls onto his back next to Sam. He makes a face. Talk about sleeping in the wet spot. Their whole fucking room is the wet spot right now. Sam wraps an arm around him though, and it's nice and warm instead of wet and cool, so that's an improvement at least.
"Hey Sam," Dean says, realizing what day it is.
Sam's already half-asleep. "Mmm," he replies, eyes closed, a content, fucked-out smile on his face.
"Happy anniversary, man."
Sam opens one eye. Dean can tell he's pleasantly surprised, but then Sam smiles wickedly. "Girl," he says.
Dean shrugs and curls into his brother's chest.
HERE BE ART
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