Bury Me In Fire - Part 5
~
( Master Post )
Part 5
Dean found Sam in the diner's parking lot, hurrying and worried.
"Alec?" Sam said.
"Yeah," Dean replied. "We talked it out."
Sam frowned. "What do you mean? You just darted out of our room a minute ago."
"She stopped time," Dean said, and waved away the statement at the look of Sam's perturbed disbelief. "It's all good, Sammy. Nothing to worry about."
Sam remained nonplussed. "What? She's killing people but it's nothing to worry about?"
Dean grabbed Sam by the elbow and tugged him back toward the inn. Sam followed, unconvinced at first but willing to listen. As they waited to cross the street, then passed through the inn's parking lot, Dean explained it all: the guilty souls, their remorse, their purification and ultimately, their salvation.
While Dean unlocked the door to their room, Sam asked, unsure, "So, that's it, then? We do nothing?"
Dean paused. "Well, what can we do? She's not a monster in the normal sense, and in the end, she's pretty much doing us a favor."
"True," Sam conceded. He dipped his head to the side and his mouth quirked. Thoughtfully, he added, "I have no idea how we'd stop her, anyway. She's not a demigod or a demon; she's a full-fledged god, and completely immortal, as far as I can tell."
"Yeah," Dean said. He opened the door and entered the room, Sam close behind him. As he tossed his keys on the dining table, before he even had a chance to take off his jacket, Sam stopped him in his tracks.
"So, now that the job's done, how's about you run upstairs, get naked and lie down on the bed on your face?" he said.
Frozen, Dean mumbled, "What?"
"You heard me," Sam replied. His tone was light, almost jocular, but he appeared serious. Firmly came, "Get going. Now."
And Dean ran up the stairs.
Soon after, Dean lay naked on his front as ordered. His blood raced through his veins and something in his belly fluttered. He had no idea what Sam had planned; since Dean had come back, he hadn't really initiated anything but cuddles. Dean doubted that Sam would just up and fuck his ass like that, without a long warm up and explicit, thrice-given consent. The idea of it, however, gave Dean tingles all the way to his toes.
When Sam spoke, Dean's spine snapped to attention. He hadn't heard his brother's footsteps on the stairs.
"Comfortable?"
"Yeah," Dean said, swallowing thickly. "I think so."
"'Kay," Sam replied. There was the sound of shuffling, and then his weight sunk into the bed between Dean's legs. "Wider," he said, tapping Dean high on the back of his thigh.
Dean obeyed, sliding his thighs as wide apart as he could without straining himself. He felt Sam move in closer and began to breathe more deeply. When sensation came, it landed in a cool liquid between Dean's shoulder blades instead of sliding slick into his ass the way he'd anticipated. "Sam?" he asked.
"Shh," Sam whispered as he ran first one hand then the other through the oil on Dean's back. He stroked up and around, sliding over Dean's skin here and digging into taut muscle there, and leaving a trail of sweet heat. He squeezed behind Dean's neck, dug his thumbs into the sore spots there and circled them slowly. Working his way downward, he kneaded Dean's ass, and Dean squirmed a little. The warmth in his skin was growing quickly into something different from that of friction, something stronger, and when it sparked in his cheeks, he wanted more of it and less.
He moaned.
"Is it okay?" Sam asked softly.
"What is it?" Dean groaned into the pillow beneath his face.
"Cinnamon oil," Sam said. "It's meant to soothe aching muscles with a bit of heat." After Dean groaned again, Sam stilled his hands. "Is it too much?"
Dean didn't trust himself to give a fully convincing 'yes', but he was sure he didn't want Sam to stop, so he shook his head and moaned once more into his pillow.
He could hear Sam's smile, and then Sam's hands continued their work.
By the time the massage ended, Sam finishing with deft fingertips between his toes, Dean was alive with heat but molten half to sleep. He heard Sam rise, felt his weight shift, and then Dean was alone on the bed. "'Ammy?" he whispered into the bed linens.
Sam hushed him again. "Wait here," he said. "It'll just be a few minutes."
Dean was too distracted by the tingle and burn in his skin, too lazy from the new slack of tired muscles, to vocalize the question he had about what 'it' was, so he remained quiet on the bed, naked, prone and content.
He heard water running, and after a few minutes as promised, Sam returned. He laid a hand on Dean's shoulder and asked, "How're you doing?"
Dean turned his head to face his brother halfway but kept his heavy eyelids down. "Mmm," he said.
Sam laughed. "Come on." He guided Dean upright and pulled him to his feet.
Dean allowed himself to be led, but he planted his bare feet firmly on the cold tile once he saw what awaited him in the bathroom. "No way," he said, unsure of whether he was addressing his brother or the bathtub nearly overflowing with bubbles. Likely, it was both.
Sam responded with a 'Yes way' and a sharp slap to Dean's behind. Dean grunted, the heat in his skin spiking, glorious and sweet. It occurred to Dean that that might be the very worst way for Sam to convince him to do something. Glancing up at his brother, Dean saw that he'd been struck with the same thought, and they both smiled ferociously.
"Obey and you can have more of that later," Sam said, his grin never faltering.
Dean grunted again, something of an assent, and made his way to the edge of the tub. He let Sam help him into it, the bubbles floating over his greased skin and the water swallowing his limbs with its fierce heat. He moaned and tried to stop Sam's hands from sliding him further into the water. Sam paused to let him adjust to the heat, insisting Dean give into it with whispered assurances that it would be good, that it was just what he needed.
Then, "Come on, Dean, you can do it," he breathed into Dean's ear. "Take it, take it for me."
Dean sunk into the tub, slowly but without pause, Sam's hands steady on him until he was seated, his weight absorbed by the porcelain and water. His body was immersed nearly to his pectorals, and while Sam leaned back to rip off his own shirt, now wet, Dean scooted down a bit. When the heat hit his nipples, he hissed and bucked. He noticed then that he was hard.
Sam's hands returned to Dean's body. Languid, they moved along its lines and planes, washing Dean with nothing but water and skin. As he relaxed, Dean took notice of the scent of the bubbles, something sweet and comforting, and he let all the remaining tension flow from his body into Sam's hands and the bathwater.
His dick, however, stayed taut, straining towards the water's surface and full attention. "Sammy," Dean whispered. He drew his hand down from where it floated among bubbles and touched himself. He rubbed the head of his cock with timid fingertips, and when it throbbed in response, he circled the shaft and squeezed. His breathing quickened but deepened as thoughts of Sam, the tingles in his skin and his own touch drove hot spikes of pleasure from his throat to his toes. Sam's arms slid around his torso and a moment later Dean felt one of his brother's giant hands cover his own. Sam applied a touch of pressure and Dean bucked against Sam's embrace. He turned his head, and finding the crook of Sam's armpit, Dean nuzzled his way in and then bit into the smooth flesh on the inside of Sam's arm.
Sam jerked, but recovered quickly. He squeezed Dean's hand and dragged it roughly to the base of Dean's dick, then dipped his head to bite hard into the muscle of Dean's neck. Choking on a moan, Dean realized that he was nearing implosion. He had to have Sam now.
With a sharp jerk, Dean broke free from Sam's arms and the grip on his dick. He pulled his feet under himself as he pushed Sam backwards, gripping his brother's shoulder to steady himself as he stood. Hot rivulets streaming from his body, he climbed out of the tub and dropped his feet heavily into the softness of the bathmat. He pushed against Sam's chest, shoving him hard to the floor, then clutched the waistband of Sam's jeans. He popped the button, tore down the zipper and yanked the jeans past Sam's ass. Good enough, Dean thought.
"Whoa, hold on a sec-" Sam began, but Dean silenced him with a glare, clambering on top of him and straddling his hips.
"God, get something to lube up, at least," Sam hissed.
He was right, Dean conceded, looking around for the nearest greasy something. He found the massage oil on the counter, snatched it and popped the cap in the time it took for Sam to protest with widened eyes and a 'shit'. Dean doused Sam's cock with a good dose of the oil, then rubbed it in with a tight fist tugging cruelly up and down the shaft. He thumbed the head, rubbing the oil into Sam's piss-slit.
"Jesus, Dean," Sam rasped as Dean positioned himself.
Dean's only reply was a grunt as he sank down fast onto Sam's dick. The shock of being impaled so brutally, so completely, tore through him but was quickly overwhelmed by the prickling heat in his ass from the cinnamon oil. It was a thousand times stronger on the inside than it had been on the out, and he gasped and bucked. Sam's hips followed, driving his tingling dick even deeper. Sam cursed at him and he swore back, and they bucked against each other at an irregular beat, shouting and thumping, each clench of Dean's hole sparking the fire in his ass and in Sam's cock.
Sam pinched Dean's nipple, digging his nails in sharply, and Dean punched him in the shoulder. Sam said, "Fuck you," then grabbed Dean's hips and fucked him hard, driving up into Dean's ass as he slammed him down. Sam's thumbs were so deeply pressed into Dean's pelvis that he could feel the bruises rising. The thought of it made him smile between groans, and he placed his hands over Sam's, and squeezed.
Sam, his mouth forced too wide open by overwhelming sensation to form words, made a sound like a whinny. Dean burst into a laugh but quickly choked on it as Sam bent his knees, placed his feet flat on the floor and lifted his hips high, thrusting upwards, taking all of Dean's weight. Sam's shift made Dean bounce, and he found himself so full of dick that there was hot pain in a place he'd never felt before, followed by a wet burst as Sam shot his load deep inside him. Sam rammed hard to draw out the peak of his orgasm, and when he let go of Dean with one hand to grasp Dean's dick, the touch was all it took for Dean to explode, weeks' worth of pent-up come flying all over, hitting each of them in the chest, arms and face.
As Dean crumpled forward onto Sam's chest, Sam collapsed onto the floor and whispered hoarsely, "I love you, fucker."
They didn't have supper that night.
Early the following morning, they packed and checked out of the inn with hugs from Claire, the manager, promising to return when they headed northeast again. Dean loaded the Impala while Sam returned his Prius to the rental agency down the street. Dean paused to watch him drive away, hair flopping in the wind that blew through the open window.
Next, they stopped by Athena's to say goodbye to the ladies there.
"So, you're leaving?" Alec asked, although she clearly knew the answer already. Sam gave her an odd look when she handed him a bag of pastries and two coffees to go and Dean two boxed pies.
"Yeah," Dean said. "People to save…"
She smiled naughtily. "Demons to hunt…" she replied, and then gave them a wink.
Dean chuckled and shook his head, noting Sam's stare of disbelief. After a moment, he cleared his throat, and then gazed at her profoundly. "Thanks," he said, "for the pie, and, you know."
Her smile softened and she titled her head slightly to the side. "You're welcome, Dean."
As he and Sam left the diner with their pastries, Dean heard a wave of sound unfurl in his mind.
Good luck, it said.
Dean knew exactly where they were headed but hadn't even given his brother a hint, so it was a surprise to hear Sam tell him to go south on Main to Chestnut Street.
"It turns into the 52 West," he said.
Dean snarked, "Do you wanna drive?"
"Yeah," Sam replied. "Pull over."
What the fuck, Dean thought. They were supposed to be heading towards Dean's surprise for Sam. Nevertheless, he pulled over and swapped places with his brother, but not without a grumble or two.
Sam, settled behind the wheel, leaned over and gave him a wet kiss on the temple, then said, "That's a good boy."
Dean swatted him away with a glare and the threat of a charley horse, but something inside him kinked. He felt the squirming of his innards all the way to his perineum. He coughed, looked out the passenger side window and said, "So, what are we up to?"
"You'll see," Sam answered. He drove them down the 52 all the way past the New York border into Pennsylvania, then took Highway 6 towards Scranton.
Dean's curiosity increased with each passing mile. Was it a coincidence that Sam was taking them in the direction that Dean had planned, he wondered, or had his brother somehow figured out what he'd been up to?
When they passed Scranton on the 81, Sam pulled off the highway and drove through suburbs. Dean was now rapt, since nothing in his own plans called for a trip to a town called Old Forge, or to the countryside beyond it, which was where Sam brought the car to a stop.
"Sam?"
Sam cleared his throat. He'd gone from playfully smug to uncertain and bashful. "I'm…" he began, drawing out the em, "… not sure that this is such a good idea anymore." Staring at some spot in front of him through the windshield, he bit his lip.
"What is it, Sammy?" Dean asked. He turned on the seat and reached for his brother. When Sam didn't answer, he added, "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's okay… Okay?"
Sam turned to face him then. "It's just something that I thought might help. I did some research, and, well, I thought it would be good… You know, for you."
Dean was torn between annoyance at Sam's continual attempts to fix him and the eternal desire to give his Sammy whatever he wanted. He was getting better at allowing Sam to do things for him unbidden, so he relented. "Well, we're here now," he said lightly. "Might as well give it a shot." He shrugged, and then smiled at his brother.
Sam's posture softened and he returned Dean's smile. "Okay."
They left the car and walked down a dirt driveway, arriving at a clapboard farmhouse. Dean followed Sam onto the porch, and then Sam knocked on the door.
A kindly, middle-aged man answered. "Hello there," he said. "What can I do for you?"
"My name is Sam. I called earlier about-"
"Ah, yes," the man interrupted, offering them a warm smile. "Why don't you boys go 'round back? My wife's there with the little ones."
As they made their way to the back of the house, Dean imagined various versions of 'little ones' and tried not to worry about what Sam might have gotten them into.
What they found in the backyard deflated Dean's fears. There, in a dry turtle pool filled with blankets, cushions, and chew toys were half a dozen puppies. Honest to goodness puppies, tiny things, Huskies, Dean thought, black, white and fluffy. Dean approached their den and when they noticed him, the puppies all turned to check him out, their tongues peeking out their smiling mouths and their fluffy tails all wagging. Dean shook his head; they were so adorable it was almost offensive.
He looked at Sam, who was behind him now. "So…"
"I just thought, what with the dogs and all that," Sam began. He seemed to consider his words for a moment, then continued. "I know you love dogs; every time we see one you try to make friends with it."
Dean nodded, waiting for Sam to say something that wasn't incredibly obvious.
"And, since you've been back, you've been having… reactions… when big dogs bark. So, I thought that maybe exposing you to little dogs that don't really bark might be a good way to start… you know-"
"Getting over it?"
Sam looked sheepish. "Well… getting used to it, maybe that's more like it…"
"Okay," Dean said. He thought that Sam was making a bigger deal of the situation than was warranted. How could puppies ever be a bad thing?
"… so that you can make friends someday with all the dogs you meet, like you used to," Sam finished, gazing at Dean with hopeful eyes. His uncertainty made him look awfully young, Dean thought.
"Sure, Sammy," he replied, giving Sam his most reassuring smile. "Sounds like a great idea." He turned back to the puppies, took a few more steps and greeted their human mother. "Hello, there," he said.
"Hello," the woman answered. "I'm Sheila."
"Dean," he said, and gesturing towards his brother, "and that's Sam."
"Nice to meet you, boys." Her manner exuded warmth and she beckoned them closer. "Please, come meet the kids."
Dean walked right up to the turtle pool and then sank down onto his knees on the grass. "Hi, kids," he said in the brightest tone he could muster. The 'kids' yipped gently in response, wagging their tails even faster. One in particular looked especially keen, using its sibling as a stepping stool to get up higher and closer to him.
"Well, hello you." Dean reached for it and it lunged forward to lick his hand. Dean chuckled, and then it tried to climb over his hand and onto his chest. "Whoa, little guy," he protested, and all three humans laughed.
"Actually," Sheila said, "that one's a female."
"Oh." Dean lifted the little thing into the air and dipped his head to look between its hind legs. It was a little too fluffy to make out what was going on down there, but Dean figured its - her - caretaker would know. She wriggled, and Dean brought her back down, settling her on his thighs. "Easy there, girl," he said.
Sheila began to tell them about the litter - how old they were, how long it had been since they were weaned, something about their mother being a Siberian Husky and their father a mystery - but Dean was too enraptured by the fuzzy little thing trying to climb him to pay close attention.
"Well, she's obviously the one," he declared.
Sam looked at him in confusion. "The one what?"
"The one for me, moron," Dean said, rolling his eyes.
Shock seemed to strike Sam's eyes. "Oh- um, Dean-"
"What?"
"I just arranged to bring you here to play with the puppies for a while…" The color had begun to drain from Sam's face.
"You mean you brought me here to tease me with puppies?"
"Oh, god…"
"And now you won't let me have one?"
Sam looked like he might pass out, and Dean decided to end his misery. He winked at him and said to Sheila, "The puppies are for sale, right?"
"To nice boys like you," she answered, smiling, "of course."
"Well, then," Dean said. "Problem solved." He stood up, bringing the puppy with him. He held her at eye level and made a kissy face at her. "Who's daddy's girl?" he murmured, and she responded immediately with a tiny yip.
Sam drew close behind him. "Um, Dean?" he whispered.
"Yeah?"
"I don't think having a dog when you live in a car is the best idea."
Dean peered at Sam over his shoulder, tucking the puppy into his jacket. "I think it's a great idea," he replied, his tone serious. "Besides," he continued, adding a sudden brazen grin, "I've got a surprise for you." He waggled his eyebrows, then marched off toward the car. "Don't forget to pay the lady, pumpkin," he called, without turning to look back at his brother. Instead, he winked at his new girl and he could have sworn she grinned back evilly.
After a quick jaunt into town to get some puppy supplies, they were back on the road. Dean realized quickly that he couldn't drive and play with the dog at the same time, so he ordered Sam to get back in the driver's seat and continue southwestward.
"Whatever you want, dumplin'," Sam said.
Dean snorted. "Fuck you," he replied. The puppy's head quirked and Dean said in the babiest voice he would allow himself, "Not you, sweetie pie."
Sam laughed, then asked, "What are you gonna call her?"
"Hmm…" Dean hadn't really thought about that yet. "I have no idea. Any suggestions?"
Sam appeared to ponder the matter for a moment, then offered, "Thunder?"
Dean was impressed. "Thunder," he said, trying the name on his tongue. "That's good, Sammy. How'd you come up with it?"
"Well," Sam began, "there was a poem discovered with the Gnostic manuscripts in Nag Hammadi in 1945 called 'Thunder Perfect Mind'. It was a Coptic version from 350 A.D. of a much earlier Greek original, probably from second-century Alexandria."
Dean stared at Sam's head like it might grow a robotic arm at any second.
Sam glanced at him, then continued. "Anyway, it's a riddling monologue about the divine female nature, probably from the traditions of the Egyptian Isis and the Jewish Sophia."
Sam didn't have to look at him to gather that Dean was still bemused. "Plus," he went on, as serious as before, "if you ever have to sic her on anyone, you can tell them-" Sam raised the pitch of his voice and sang in a harsh falsetto, "-you've been Thunderstuck!"
Dean burst out laughing like he hadn't in weeks or longer. Sammy Perfect Mind, he thought silently.
Thunder agreed with a soft yip, then yawned, curled up on Dean's lap and went to sleep.
Seven hours later, they arrived at the property in West Virginia. It lay between Mount Hope and Pax, off County Route 27, tucked away from the world so well that it might not have even existed. They drove down a long, narrow dirt road, flanked with dense forest, before the old stone house came into view.
Dean could feel his excitement bubbling over, but it was not without worry. The place looked to be exactly what was promised, and Dean felt an enormous amount of relief that he hadn't made a huge mistake. But, he wondered, would Sam like it?
He looked over at his brother, who was still in the driver's seat. Dean had made him drive the whole way down, unwilling to relinquish his puppy. Besides, although he wouldn't have admitted it aloud, he enjoyed watching Sam drive, especially that day as he gave the directions and Sam looked like he might burst from curiosity with each turn or merge.
Now, Sam's eyes were wide as he took in the scenery. It was gorgeous, green as a green apple Jolly Rancher, and like the hard candy it shone in the late day sun. Its lush beauty had not been mentioned in the negotiations, but curmudgeonly old hunters might not have found that a salient point. Dean hoped that he'd never fail to notice it in the coming years, if they stayed.
Sam rolled the car to a stop not far from the house. "Dean, where are we?"
Dean took a deep breath and then exhaled, "Home?" He closed his eyes tightly and waited to hear Sam's next words.
"What?"
"Yeah…" Dean bit the inside of his cheek. Calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean, he thought, then opened his eyes. He couldn't quite face his brother yet, however, and so he watched the rise and fall of Thunder's little chest. "I, um, bought it… You know, for… us."
"What?" Sam repeated, as though it would lead to a better explanation. "How? And, I mean- When? Why? Where did… Who… What?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "You finished with journalism 101?" he cracked, but he was becoming more and more anxious. He might even have been terrified at that point.
"Dean?" Sam's tone was imploring, neither judgmental nor angry. "Please, just- Tell me, Dean, please."
Dean looked up, turned his head a little and brought his gaze to rest on Sam's mouth. "I, um, well, I bought it. From this old hunter, a guy Bobby's known for a long time. He retired - from hunting, I mean - and moved away. Bobby told me about it, and I asked if he - the hunter, not Bobby - wanted to keep his place. Bobby helped me put it all together, negotiate, get the lawyer, all that. So, yeah, this is an old hunter's homestead. It's supposed to be all tricked out for hunters, lots of protection-"
"Okay, Dean, but-"
"-there's even a consecrated iron rail, like a train rail, all along the property, apparently took him years to finish- Right, 'cause there's over a hundred acres - seriously, I looked hard at all the legal shit - and it's mostly wooded- Hey, like Winnie the Pooh, the Hundred Acre Woods, you remember when I used to read that to you? You were pretty small-"
"Dean!"
Dean stopped his rambling. He steeled himself, then looked up into his brother's eyes. "Yeah, Sammy?"
Sam tilted his head a notch to the side and, gently, he asked, "Where did the money come from?"
"Uh, yeah," Dean replied. "So, you remember Bela?"
Sam blinked. "That is not at all what I was expecting you to say, Dean. And, isn't she dead?"
"Yeah," Dean muttered. "But she had connections, right? So I went to Queens to get some info and try to find a buyer-"
"For what?" Sam scrunched up his face.
"Right. I was getting to that… So, I remembered what Bela said about all our hunter things, how much money they were worth, so first I went to Buffalo-You remember Dad's storage locker there?"
Sam inhaled, exhaled, and then said, "Go on."
"Well, I talked to Bobby about the curse boxes, what was in them, and there was one that was a cursed mandrake root that would turn a man into a woman," Dean said. Although he wasn't getting any tender encouragement from Sam, he was beginning to feel more sure of himself. "So, I got it, took it to Queens, poked around and made a bunch of calls until I found a guy in Dallas, some old oil baron that wanted it for his boyfriend - girlfriend? - well, you know what I mean. Anyway, Bobby came down to New York and helped me get it all sorted out with the Texan and the hunter and the lawyers, and, well, ta-da."
Sam remained silent for a moment. "You sold a cursed object," he said.
"Yeah."
"And that doesn't bother you at all?"
Dean snorted. "The guy wanted it so his lady friend could be a real lady without all the surgery. That's a win-win. Besides, whoever thinks that turning a man into a woman is some deadly curse has some major issues with the ladies." He laughed and then said, "Didn't seem like something real bad, you know?"
Sam raised his eyebrows. "Dad thought it was bad enough to be locked away," he said.
"Yeah, well, Dad's not here."
Sammy grinned then, beamed even, and although he'd begun to blush, Dean joined him. After a warm moment, he coughed, scratched the back of his neck, and looked away. "Anyway, it's ours now," he said, "if you want."
"If I want?"
Dean dropped his gaze to Thunder again, said, "I mean, if you like it." He dared a glance at Sam's face. The incredulity he found there made his anxiety spark all over again, so he continued, "I mean, I know there're no fancy schools around here, no big law firms or anything." He bit the inside of his cheek, this time tasting blood.
Sam laughed softly and shook his head. "I don't need to go back to college, Dean," he said. "I'm over that."
Dean thought he saw a complicated sadness tainting Sam's eyes.
"Dean," Sam continued, and it was more a whispered breath than an address. "I want you to know that I'm never leaving you again."
Dean stared at him for a second, then dropped his gaze and chuckled. "Okay, Sammy," he said. He looked up again when Sam grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him closer. "Hey, careful, Thunder-"
Sam picked up the pup and set her gently on the back seat, where her blanket and cushion and twelve new toys awaited her. He turned back to Dean, ran a hand down his flank and rested it on Dean's hip. "I mean it, Dean. Forever, just you and me."
God, Dean thought, Sammy could be such a g-
"Are you crying?"
"What? No!" Dean felt the wet warmth spill over onto his cheek just as Sam's lips spread into a traffic-stopping smile and the sadness left his eyes
"Aww…" Sam brushed his thumb over Dean's face and wiped the tear. "I also promise to do any kinky thing you want, to let you pick the movies and TV shows, and to let everyone think you're one hundred per cent top."
Dean laughed. "And I promise to make you chicken burgers with the gayest toppings every time we have barbeque, to let you order broccoli on our pizza, and to let you take care of me even when I don't want you to. Sometimes."
Sam pecked him quickly on the lips, then let him go. He spat into his palm, offered his hand to Dean and said, "Deal."
Dean took his brother's hand and shook it firmly. "You know, I would've rather sealed the deal with your spit somewhere else."
"Yeah?" Sam said, already moving closer to Dean. "I think that can be arranged…" He bent forward, pressed his lips to the base of Dean's throat and sucked a hickey. Between sucking and chewing, he mumbled into Dean's wet flesh, "Can't wait to christen every room in the house."
Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair. "Yeah?"
"Mm-hm…"
"You wanna carry me over the threshold?" Dean scratched his nails along the curve of Sam's neck.
Sam groaned. "God, yes," he hissed.
Dean pushed Sam off of him as abruptly as he could. Swiftly, he opened the door and dashed out of the car. His grin ferocious as he turned to glance over his shoulder, he shouted, "'Course, first you'll have to catch me, Sasquatch!"
Dean took off, Sam hot on his tail.
~
Bury me in fire, and I'm gonna phoenix
- Bill Callahan
Notes, Thanks, Goodies & Soundtrack