Fic: The Monster - Part 2/2 - Sam/Dean - R

[muffinchops]

Part Two

Six months later...

Jodie smiled and waved as she watched Sam and Dean make their way over to their usual table. They’d never used a booth again after the first experience, which was just as well as Dean seemed to have piled on even more weight since they’d been living here. She watched him shrug off his jacket and hang it over the back of his chair, giving her a good view of his back. He certainly looked bigger from that angle, shoulders even broader, thighs more hefty, his jeans practically sculpted around his plump, rounded ass, love handles more pronounced as the weight bulged out over his waistband. He took his seat, and she got a good view of him in profile. His paunch was definitely larger and rounder, sitting in his lap like a beach ball, half covering his thighs. He wouldn’t fit into one of those booths now.

Sam called Julie over and she stayed by them for a good couple of minutes as Dean recited their order and joked with her. They’d become favourites at the bar with the girls, and even now with all that extra weight, Dean still managed to flirt and joke enough to make the girls blush and giggle. In fact, she suspected that Julie and Lucy both had a thing for Dean. Actually, she knew for sure in Julie’s case. Both her exes had been on the heavy side, and Jodie had even overheard her rhapsodising to the other girls about Dean. “He’s just so handsome and he looks just like a real man should be, you know, like a man, so solid and big, with those shoulders and arms. He’d know how to take care of a girl. And boy, I’d love to ride that big ole gut, sink my fingers into those love-handles...”

Jodie didn’t exactly agree, she’d always liked her guys trim and muscular, but she did have to admit that there was something about Dean now. He carried himself with such confidence; maybe even more self-assured than he'd been all those years ago when he’d been a fit and trim hunter. He still had the same breezy charm and charisma and sense of humour. And he was handsome; that was undeniable. His chin and cheeks were a little chubbier, sure, but his facial features hadn’t disappeared under a layer of pudge like a lot of fat guys. He still had those green eyes and that mouth and that teasing way of looking at you like he knew exactly what to do to you once he’d charmed your panties off. She could see what Julie saw in him. And well, she had to give him credit: he did carry all that weight well. The guy was built, more built than he’d been before. She’d seen his bare forearms and biceps and could testify to just how muscular he was. She would bet that he could bench-press something damned impressive. Of course, he had that giant beer gut, but even there, she had to admire him. His belly didn’t sag at all, despite the fact he looked like he was about to give birth to twins.

Hell, maybe she was a little fascinated as to what it would be like to have sex with someone Dean’s size, to feel all that visceral weight underneath or on top of her. Not that that would ever happen. For a start, she was pretty sure Sam would have something to say about that.

She shook her head to herself as she served a couple of people. She’d kinda wondered before about them, not that she’d ever said anything to Bobby out loud. She was pretty sure he’d never suspected. But she could remember how Sam had acted when Dean had gone accidently time-travelling that one time, and she could recall how they’d looked at each other the first time she’d ever seen them together, after she and Sam had just saved Dean and Bobby from a houseful of zombies. But these past few months had definitely put to rest any questions she’d had about the real nature of Sam and Dean’s relationship. She smiled wryly as she watched Julie giggle at something Dean said, and lean down to pat his shoulder, totally oblivious to the death-glare Sam was sending her way. Sometimes, the younger Winchester could be very unsubtle.

She watched Julie sashay away, Dean looking after her with a lewd curl to his mouth before he turned back to Sam with an eyebrow raised. Sam said something and Dean grinned unashamedly, batting his eyelashes at his brother and laughing. She rolled her eyes and poured their beers, deciding to take them over herself instead of letting Julie get involved again. She’d have plenty of chance to rile up Sam some more when she started delivering Dean’s mammoth food order.

“Here you go, boys,” she said, setting down their beers, and taking a seat for a few minutes to catch up while there was a momentary lull.

Dean had been doing pretty well with the scrap business. They were actually making real money, he said, looking surprised by that fact himself. Well enough for Sam to consider giving up his job as a clerk at the local chamber of commerce and devote more time to helping Dean out. Sam didn’t seem upset by that chain of events, and knowing what an asshole Keith Reilly, their local Chamber hotshot was, she wasn’t surprised.

Julie came out with cheeseburgers, fries, side salad and nachos then, earning her a, “Thanks, sweetheart,” from Dean, and a barely restrained glower from Sam. And then the conversation stilted as both boys proceeded to tuck into their food, occasionally pausing to exclaim over the general awesomeness of the burgers or the chilli fries or the dressing. She left them to it after a couple of minutes, and got caught up in a rush when more customers arrived. They were busy that night and she lost track of Sam and Dean, though she was vaguely aware of Julie to-ing and fro-ing to their table with trays of food and beers.

They were some of the last people to leave. She looked up to see Dean levering himself up from his seat, his gait a little heavy after all that food. He had one hand resting on his belly to steady it as he picked up his jacket from the back of the chair, and her eyes were drawn to the way the plaid fabric pulled taut around his stomach, the small buttons straining like they were about to pop off at any moment. She wondered briefly just how much weight he’d gained over the past few months. She could’ve sworn she’d seen him wearing that shirt a couple of months ago and it’d fit just fine. Sam came round the table, putting his hand low on the small of Dean’s back, just above his waistband, his fingers digging in a little, rubbing gently. She could hear Dean groan quietly and lean into Sam. Not surprising really, carrying around all that weight must be a real strain on his back. She remembered how bad it was when she was pregnant with Charlie.

She swallowed back the thought quickly, smothering it as soon as it came, and readied a smile and a wave for Brad and Frank and some of the other guys who were heading out the door. She watched Dean place a hand on Sam’s arm, the gesture making Sam’s own plaid shirt pull a little tighter, and she frowned because - oh - huh, from that particular angle, Sam didn’t look quite as svelte and trim as she remembered. In fact, from that angle, Sam looked like he had his very own little pot belly. Evidently Sam had been matching some of his big brother’s eating habits, and looking at the used plates on their table, it did look like he’d been eating his fair share.

She gave them a wave as they walked out, calling out their goodbyes over their shoulders, Sam’s hand still resting proprietarily on Dean’s back.

“You think they might be together?”

Jodie turned her head to see Julie standing beside her, gazing after Sam and Dean’s retreating backs with a dawning look on her face.

“I mean, everyone says they’re brothers, but I’m not sure that’s true. What do you think?”

Jodie gave her a faint smile. “I think you’re better off thinking about somebody else, honey.”

“Oh, really?” Julie blinked. “Oh. Okay. Well, that’s a real shame, but I guess - well. It explains a lot.” She frowned, a crease appearing between her eyebrows.

Jodie gave her a friendly pat on the arm. “Go, clear the tables, let’s get finished early, okay?”

“Okay.” Julie smiled brightly and took off.

**

Sam awoke first. Dean was laying in bed beside him, on his side, the most comfortable position for him these days. His eyelashes were fluttering, breath coming in faint puffs, chest moving up and down. Sam propped himself up on one elbow and peered down at him, smiling fondly, considering whether or not to wake him. He decided to let him go on sleeping, and instead, got out of bed himself. He padded into the bathroom and yawned hugely before he leaned over the toilet to piss. He flushed and washed his hands, blinking sleepily at his reflection in the mirror. He raked his eyes down his body and frowned when he got to his mid-section. He dried off his hands and turned back to the mirror.

Damn it, he wasn’t imagining it. He placed his hand on his stomach, felt the tips of his fingers sink in a way. He’d tried to overlook it the last time he’d had to go up a size in jeans, told himself it was just bloat, just Dean’s regime getting to him. But those bigger jeans he’d bought, his “fat” jeans were already too small. He had to face it. He was getting a belly. A small pot belly, at least compared with Dean, but definitely a belly. At least he didn’t seem to have gained much weight elsewhere. He still looked pretty trim, but his six-pack abs were definitely a thing of the past, all that definition absolutely gone for good. He really needed to stop matching Dean beer for beer, stop snacking when Dean did.

He flicked an agonising look at the scale where it was resting in the corner of the room. Today was Dean’s big day. They were both pretty sure that Dean had met his 60 inches goal. Sam privately thought Dean might have exceeded it. He was by far the biggest he’d ever been. Nothing in his closet fit him anymore; even the clothes he’d bought last month after his last measuring were too small. No, Dean had definitely gained weight this month. Unfortunately, it seemed apparent that he had too.

He pulled the scale out into the middle of the floor. He stared down at it for a moment, before he sighed and stepped on. Last time he’d weighed himself, about a year ago, he’d been 205lbs. Much less than he’d been when they were hunting full-time, then again he didn’t have the weights regime he had then, and he had none of the thick muscle and brawn anymore. Definitely not when he compared himself with Dean who was so beefy these days, his own biceps and shoulders looked positively small next to him. The truth was that any weight he’d gained over the past year had to be pure fat, pure self-indulgence. He didn’t even have Dean’s excuse of doing it for someone else’s benefit, because Dean didn’t have a thing for big guys. Dean liked him as he was (as he used to be): muscled and firm and definitely with no spare tyres around his middle.

He sighed miserably and peered down at the dial. 232lbs.

Shit. 232 pounds. He’d gained 27 pounds, 27 freaking pounds. He really needed to think about cutting down.

“What’s it say?”

He practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of his brother’s voice. He scrambled off the scale like he’d been scalded, feeling his cheeks burn red hot as he whirled around to confront Dean. Dean was watching him with a giant smile on his face, one fleshy hip cocked against the doorframe, his hand on the doorknob.

“Jesus, Dean, nearly gave me a friggin’ heart-attack,” he bitched.

Dean just grinned wider, damn him, and took a couple of steps into the room, looking down at the scale. “So, what’s the damage?”

Sam blushed harder, turned his head away, avoiding his brother's insinuating gaze.

“Sammy,” Dean said. His tone was a little reprimanding. “What’s it say?”

Sam sighed and opened his eyes. He turned reluctantly around to look at him. “232 pounds,” he confessed.

Dean raised an eyebrow and blew out a breath. “Huh, really.”

“I know,” Sam said, hanging his head and blushing some more. He was so embarrassed.

Dean stepped up to place his hand on Sam’s arm, gave it a reassuring squeeze. He took a step closer, his belly bumping up against Sam’s body. “Sammy, you can’t seriously be upset about this.”

Sam shrugged, didn’t return the look.

“Dude, c’mon,” Dean said. Sam glanced at him; Dean was smiling at him, all fond affection and love. “You look great. So you’ve gained a little weight, so what? Doesn’t make a different to me. Hell, would be damned hypercritical of me to suddenly go off you now you’ve got that cute little belly there.” He slapped the back of his hand against Sam’s stomach. They both watched the flesh jiggle slightly. Oh God, he actually jiggled.

He pushed Dean’s hand away, muttering, “Don’t. Don’t touch me.”

“Sam, look. Look at me,” Dean said softly. “Look at this.” He placed his hand on his own huge stomach, gave it a couple of pats. “Look at the size of this monster - of me. I’m friggin’ enormous. What you’ve got there - that’s nothing, man.”

“That’s not the point, Dean. I like you like this. You look amazing like this. Me though, you don’t even-“

“I like you however you look,” Dean interrupted. “Doesn’t matter to me, you know that.” He paused and slid his hand down Sam’s arm to squeeze his hand. “You’re my brother, my Sam. I’m never going to stop wanting you,” he added as if that was reason enough.

Sam snorted and shook his head. Jesus, put like that… they were so fucked-up.

Dean sighed and placed both hands back on his belly, cradling it in that way he did so often, that way that drove Sam crazy. “Hey, I know something that’ll cheer you up. How about we go take some measurements? Or have you forgotten what day it is today?”

“As if I could forget,” Sam scoffed, giving Dean a look. He felt his stomach flip over, the blood rush downwards as Dean slowly smiled back at him.

His cock was almost fully hard with anticipation by the time he ran downstairs to gather up his notebook and the tape measure. Dean had already carried the scale out into the bedroom and was waiting on the edge of their bed for him. Dean rose up from the bed, the mattress protesting, as Sam came inside. He took a couple of steps forward and stepped onto the scale. It creaked loudly and Sam was briefly concerned that it was going to break. It was just a regular bathroom scale after all; it did have a limit.

He crouched down onto the floor, ignoring the way his own belly rounded out in a couple of fleshy rolls which pushed over the waistband of his boxer shorts. He peered down at the scale, Dean’s enormous girth casting a shadow over the dial. The needle quivered a little and came to a halt just below the 300 mark.

He peered up at Dean, having to take a couple of steps back to actually see his face over his gut.

“Well?” Dean asked, sounding nervous, his tongue slicking over his lips.

“298,” Sam said. “Wow, that’s practically 300 pounds, man.”

“Shit, really.” Dean blinked and stepped off the scale, the dial spinning in grateful relief. Sam watched him place an absent hand on his stomach, give it a distracted rub. “I weigh 298 pounds. Fuck, dude.”

“You can’t be surprised,” Sam said, getting to his feet. “And hey, you’re only 66 pounds heavier than me, so...”

“And four inches shorter,” Dean added. He blinked again, shook his head. “God, Sammy. I was like - what was I when we first came here?”

“You were 267 when we came here, and 289 last month,” Sam reeled off. He was pretty sure he could recite all of Dean’s measurements for every month they’d been doing this without glancing at his notebook or his spreadsheets. You gained nine pounds this month, Dean, that’s a record. And you’ve put on 31 since we first came back here. Though, dude, c’mon, with what you’ve been eating?” he raised an eyebrow.

Dean had been eating a hell of a lot this month, noticeably more than usual. And he’d been letting him. They’d both been disappointed last month to just miss out on their goal and so Dean had really gone kinda crazy. There’d been late night snacking sessions practically every night, something they’d only done occasionally before, Dean snacking his way through tubs of Ben and Jerry’s and packets of Oreos, jumbo packs of M&M’s and mini Mars Bars. Not to mention the boxes of Krispy Kremess he’d scoffed down between meals in his office down in the yard. It had obviously made a difference.

“I guess,” Dean said slowly, giving his belly a distracted rub. “And I know I feel a lot bigger. I am a lot bigger. I noticed driving the car...” he trailed off.

Sam picked up the tape measure from the bed and hesitated. “You okay? You want to do this still?”

Dean looked down at his belly, gave it one last pat and looked up again. He nodded, set his shoulders. “Yup, let’s do it.”

“Okay,” Sam smiled at him. He tried not to shake as he wound the measure around Dean’s back, over his bulging love handles and back fat, following the pink stretch marks at his sides to the biggest, roundest part of his belly where both ends would meet... Except both ends weren’t meeting. There was a gap between the two ends of the tape measure. Dean had officially outgrown the tape measure.

“Oh,” Dean said, his voice sounding low and a little overwhelmed. “Wow.”

Sam tilted his head back, glancing at his brother’s face, keeping the tape measure in place. Dean looked a little shocked, a little embarrassed, his cheeks were pinking. Sam lowered his gaze to his brother’s shorts, it was hard to see anything under his belly, but he could tell from the heated look in his brother’s eyes that there was definitely some activity going on down there.

Sam swallowed tightly, felt his own cock swell even more. He glanced back at Dean’s belly, at the two ends of the tape measure. There had to be at least two inches between the two plastic metal clips.

“I think you’re 62 inches, man, maybe even more,” he said finally, his voice a little shaky.

“Wow. I really did it,” Dean said wonderingly.

“You did,” Sam said. He let the tape measure fall from his hands. He leaned in, pressed a kiss just above Dean’s belly button, his hands sliding around to cup Dean’s sides, fingers shifting into the pudge. He felt Dean tremble as he pressed another kiss along his happy trail; he was abnormally sensitive in the area below his belly button. “Now whatever can we do to celebrate?”

************************

Six months later

Dean finished dealing with the customer, signing off the order form when he was done, cash resting snugly in his pocket. He watched the guy reverse out the yard, back of his pick-up loaded with supplies, and turned around to head back into the house.

Sam was at his desk in the office, listening to his I-pod, laptop in front of him, piles of receipts and invoices heaped across the desk in neat piles. An open packet of Oreos was lying by Sam’s elbow and Dean watched his brother absently slide another cookie into his mouth as he flicked through a pile of papers. The Oreos were almost finished and there was a Snickers wrapper and an empty bag of Frito Lays lying in the trash by Sam’s desk. Dean smiled at the picture and came into the room to drop the cash onto the table in front of Sam.

Sam looked up at him questioningly, tugging the earbuds out of his ears. “Hey,” he said. “Everything go okay?”

“It did,” Dean said. He pulled up a chair to take a seat beside Sam. “300 dollars.” He nodded at the money lying on the table.

“Really?” Sam looked pleased. “Good work.”

Dean shrugged. “Of course.”

Sam smiled at him and leaned across his chair to place a kiss on his cheek. The motion made his t-shirt pull tight around his middle and ride up a little way, exposing an inch or so of fleshy belly and affording Dean a glimpse of where Sam had unbuttoned his pants at some point that morning. Dean turned his face to catch his brother’s lips with his own, hand coming up to cup the back of his neck and pull him into a real kiss.

Sam was a little breathless when he pulled away, eyes bright and cheeks pink. He made a frustrated sound at the back of his throat and made a face at Dean. “Sorry, man, I really want to but - I got to finish this.”

Dean sighed, but he gave in. He got up heavily from his chair. “Okay, well I’m gonna make lunch. Come through when you’re done.”

He grilled up a stack of sandwiches, whistling as he shook the pan, pressed the spatula down against the bread, smelling the delicious tang of fried cheese. Cooking was something else that he’d had to adapt to since he’d gained so much weight. His enormous belly did have a way of getting in his way, bumping up against the stove. Luckily, he’d figured out various ways of getting around it, mainly thanks to Ricardo, one of the cooks from the burrito joint he’d worked at in Mexico, who’d been even bigger than he was now. But Ricardo had been an amazing cook and Dean could remember how deftly he’d moved from stove to stove, how he’d extended his arms and kinda worked sideways on to accommodate his bulk in the small kitchen. It was something Dean had learned to copy, and it was something Sam might have to learn too - if he carried on how he had been going these past few months.

He shook his head to himself as he set the table. Sam had probably gained another thirty pounds over the past six months. He’d seemed to have lost all the willpower he used to have when they were hunting, though he was still self-conscious about it, and hated it if Dean ever brought the subject up, insisting the extra pounds were only temporary, he’d lose the weight. But he hadn’t and he hadn’t even tried to cut down on his snacking. So, slowly and surely, the weight had crept up on him, and now he had an unmistakeable belly however he tried to hide it.

In fact, Dean would guess that Sammy was right now probably not far off 260 pounds, possibly more, which wasn’t that far behind him. Dean had decided after that big measuring six months ago to stop actively gaining, but to try to maintain his weight in the 280s. Any bigger than that was just uncomfortable, and more importantly, any bigger than that and he seriously couldn’t fit behind the wheel of his baby. Sam had been disappointed that Dean wasn’t willing to surpass the big 300 pound milestone, but he’d given in in the end, just making Dean promise not to lose too much weight. Dean had readily agreed, he didn’t want to lose a load of weight. He loved being this big, loved his enormous gut and his big ass, not to mention his impressive biceps and thick, powerful thighs. Maybe one day, in a few years time, he might consider actively gaining more again. It would be fun to see what 300 pounds was like, or even, he thought with a little thrill, to see what 350 felt like. But for the moment, his current size (286lbs this morning) was perfect.

He tipped the last two sandwiches on top of the stack resting on the table and hollered for his brother.

Sam came shuffling in, wearing a hoodie which was still not quite big enough to disguise how it pulled around his middle when he took a seat at the table. Sam ate hungrily, eating more than his share of sandwiches, and drinking a couple of glasses of coke. Dean watched him surreptitiously, watched how he dropped his hand guiltily to his middle as he polished off the last sandwich, and plucked at the tight fabric. Sam touched his belly in a completely different way to Dean, unhappily, worriedly, like he was still surprised and ashamed to know it was there.

Sam got up to clear the dishes and wash up and Dean watched him as he worked, watched how each time his stomach bumped against the sink Sam’s expression got tight and unhappy.

And that was it, something had to be done.

Dean got to his feet and approached his brother. He wound his arms around Sam, pulling him a couple of inches away from the sink. He dropped his hands to Sam’s waist and carefully pushed up his tight hoodie and t-shirt, spreading his palms over Sam’s skin. Sam froze at the sensation and tried to squirm away, but Dean was strong now and he had a secret weapon. He shoved forward, using his gut to pin Sam up against the sink, effectively trapping him in place.

Sam went still, his breath coming in hot bursts. Knowing him, he was probably getting hard from the sensation of Dean wedging him up against the sink with just his big, hard belly, and hey, it was kinda making Dean hard too. But this wasn’t what this was about. This was about Sammy. He cradled Sam’s belly in his hands, sank his fingers in a way, giving the flesh a small squeeze.

“Dean, don’t,” Sam pleaded.

He leaned in, pressed a kiss behind Sam’s ear. “Why not? You feel so good. So amazing under my hands, Sammy.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I love how you feel, how you look.” He knotted his fingers in the waistband of Sam’s hoodie. “C’mon. Take this off.” He tugged it upwards, dragging the sweatshirt up and over Sam’s stomach and chest. Obediently, Sam raised his arms and let Dean pull the garment over his head and toss it down onto the floor. The movement had made his t-shirt ride upwards too and Dean grabbed hold of that and tugged at it. “C’mon, man, do this for me. I wanna see you; wanna see how gorgeous you are.”

Sam sighed unhappily, but he let Dean take off the t-shirt too. Dean took a step back then, releasing his brother from his belly-prison. Sam turned around reluctantly to face him, his face set, hands resting on the sides of the sink. The top button of his jeans was undone and Dean could see why. His brother’s belly surged out over the waistband, a full, unmistakeable, plump curve pushing down the zipper with the weight of it. Dean stared at it and raked his eyes up Sam’s chest, definitely much fleshier, to his face, slightly puffier than he remembered, a small double chin forming when he bowed his head, his hair falling across his face.

“Hey,” he reached up to cup Sam’s cheek. “I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but, dude, you know you do it for me, right? You know that’s never gonna change.”

Sam lifted his head, blinked at him. “What?”

“Here, feel this.” Dean grabbed onto Sam’s hand, entwining their fingers together. He placed his brother’s hand over his crotch, over the shape of his hardening cock. “See what you’re doing to me. You just gotta take your freakin’ shirt off and I’m popping wood.”

“Dean,” Sam said, but the word was mainly an exhale.

“I told you before, I think you’re gorgeous,” Dean said. He watched Sam blush, saw the faint look of hope come into his eyes. “I can’t believe you would ever think otherwise.”

“I. This.” Sam pulled his hand away from Dean and grabbed a hunk of his flabby stomach with a look of disgust on his face. “You can’t like me like this. Not really. This isn’t your thing. You like when I’m all ripped and muscled and got all this six pack-“

“Shut up,” Dean said and he leaned in to take Sam’s mouth in a kiss, cutting off any further protests.

The kiss got heated, 0-60 in 60 seconds that was them, and it had never been any different. Sam’s fingers scrabbled with Dean’s shirt until that was being wrenched over his head and tossed onto the floor alongside Sam’s. And then it was fumbling fingers and bumping bellies, and jeans being tugged down over flabby asses, Sam’s hand delving under Dean’s belly to find his cock and Dean grabbing for Sam’s dick.

Afterwards, they lay slumped against the new kitchen cupboards on the floor, both naked. Sam’s head tilted against Dean’s strong, meaty shoulder, his hand rubbing circles over Dean’s massive belly.

“You know, dude, if you wanted to emulate me, you only had to say,” Dean said smugly, giving Sam a look from the corner of his eye.

“Huh?” Sam muttered.

“This,” Dean said, dropping his hands down to cradle his belly. “You should’ve said before if you wanted your own monster.”

“Shut up,” Sam said, but there was no heat in it.

Dean chuckled, reached over to palm Sam’s stomach, give it a little jiggle. Sam made an annoyed sound and tried to bat his hand away, but Dean just laughed again, turned his head to press a kiss to his temple. “I think it’s cute. The way you still want to be just like your big brother. And I think this is cute too.” He gave Sam’s belly another friendly jiggle. “Sammy’s little belly.”

“Not that little,” Sam grumped.

“Hey. Well, that’s up to you,” Dean said reasonably. “You want to lose weight then do that, man. You want to grow - then that would be cool too. I don’t mind either way. I think you look great right now. I love that little thing there,” he patted Sam’s stomach again. “And I wouldn’t care if you got bigger. Not gonna change a thing. I mean it.”

Sam sighed and sat up straight, the movement making his stomach round out even more. And hmmm, it really wasn’t that little after all, though obviously he still had nothing on Dean’s monster. But Dean could remember when his belly was that size and really, it was a slippery slope now. Sam was far too hooked on the sweet and fatty foods, the beers every night, the lazy, gluttonous lifestyle to really change things up. Sammy probably was going to be as big as him in a few years time - maybe even less the way he was going.

Dean considered it for a moment: it was true what he’d said, he really didn’t mind. They could be two fat guys who were in love, two fat guys who happened to be brothers who were in love, two fat guys running a used scrap-yard together who happened to be brothers who were in love. Why not? It wasn’t the ending either of them had ever envisaged, but he could live with it, he could definitely live with it.

Sam placed his hand on top of his belly and sighed. “Okay. As long as you do mean it, Dean. As long as you’re not just saying all that cause-“

“I mean it,” Dean interrupted, his tone totally serious. He turned his head, looked Sam in his eye. “I mean it, Sammy. Now, c’mere, give me a kiss. Then how about we share some of that peach pie I know you picked up from Jodie’s place last night? I could totally go for a slice of peach pie right about now.”

Sam laughed and leaned into the kiss.

The End