SPN/CM FIC: Masks We Wear (1/1) (Sam/Dean/Spencer) FRAO
I can't believe I forgot to post this here. Dummy.
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Title: Masks We Wear
Author: Sam
Fandom: Supernatural/Criminal Minds
Pairing: Sam/Dean/Spencer
Rating: FRAO
Disclaimers: Not mine, no money made, just playing with the pretty boys...
Summary:: Sam and Dean Winchester visit an old friend in DC.
Warnings: Language, incest, m/m/m threesome, mention of sex, light bondage and toys...
A/N: I'm not too nice to Prentiss in this one, just so ya know...
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Masks We Wear
Just a day into meeting with Reid’s FBI agent buddies, Dean Winchester was pretty sure he liked most of them. Or, at least, they weren’t going to be a bad influence on his boy, Spencer. He was also fairly certain, even not knowing about the supernatural Hunter side of Special Agent/Doctor Spencer Reid, they could be trusted to watch his back while the boy genius flew about the country chasing nasties of a more mundane variety.
The only exception to that faith being the woman currently circling the gangly young man on the practice mats in the center of the workout room in the basement of the FBI building. That woman Dean wouldn’t trust turning his back on, much less to cover it against the serial whatevers Spencer faced with the rest of the BAU on a casely basis.
No, Agent Emily Prentiss definitely did not have Reid’s best interests at heart, no matter what she had said that morning. Not that Dean could find anything wrong with the woman’s suggestion of extra self defense sessions for the ‘geek boy’ Spencer insisted on showing the world here, God only knew why. Not when he was every bit as good at hand to hand as Dean and Sam were and could probably take out any agent in this building if he had to. John Winchester had seen to that over a decade ago, training a lost and lonely high school senior of twelve right along with his own boys in self defense, weapons and supernatural lore. And Dean knew for a fact Spencer had kept up.
He had the rug burns from last night in very interesting places to prove it…
No, it was the way Prentiss had reacted to Dean’s brother Sam’s immediate, cheerful intention to come and watch. Along with Dean’s gut, there was no doubt Sammy’s special voodoo had been pinging ‘danger, danger’ - not when Prissy hadn’t seemed too thrilled at the idea of an audience around while she ‘tutored’ Reid.
Too damned bad. If she had any ulterior motives other than helping Reid, then Dean wanted to be there when she tried whatever it was she had in mind. If only to watch Spencer wipe the floor with her.
Maybe he should bring popcorn…
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“Aw c’mon, Spencer - hit her!” Dean yelled, ready to wade in there himself after the cheap shot. He wished Spencer would do something already. He was tired of seeing someone he cared about getting crapped on by a woman who didn’t know when the hell to keep her dirty tricks to herself.
The extra tutoring session had quickly turned into a friendly sparring match that hadn’t stayed that way for long. That was the third time Prentiss intentionally came inside his guard with an illegal tag to the back of Spencer’s head under the guise that an ‘unsub’ wouldn’t play by the rules, either.
Whatever the hell that meant…
“If he doesn’t, I will,” Sam muttered pressed against Dean’s side on his right.
It was clear from the barely concealed venom in his brother’s tone that the younger Winchester liked the underhanded way Agent Prentiss was taunting their lover as much as Dean did. Dean winced when another strike hit Spencer across the cheekbone, snapping his head back and barely missing his eye. Dammit, that was going to bruise…
This wasn’t a friendly sparring match, this was slowly building into a very quiet little war. Whatever Prentiss had against Spencer, the woman was obviously willing to make it physical.
“Yeah well, if she tries that back strike again, Spencer will bust her a new one,” Dean snorted back. “I ‘m not the only one who worked on that one with him - I remember Dad drilling him on it for hours after the low-level zombie demon went after us in Vegas when we were kids.”
Unable to stop himself, Sam grinned ruefully. “I remember that. I had a headache for days.”
“Serves you right, Sammy,” Dean shoved him over with his shoulder, taking his eyes away from the sparring match. “You and Spin going at it like bunnies in the bottom bunk that whole week. I barely got any sleep at all - and I had to Hunt with Dad during the days.”
“Dean, you barely got any sleep because we weren’t the only ones going at it like bunnies.” Sam reminded him. “Hell half the reason we started fooling around was because we knew you would give up and join in.”
The older Winchester smirked, his mind going back in time to the summer of ’94. “Mmm, yeah. Good times.”
Sam shoved him back, also grinning at the memory.
He felt Dean tense against his leg and looked back at the workout mats just in time to see Agent Prentiss take another cheap shot at Spencer, this time a fast jab to the kidneys. Only Spencer had turned his body into the strike, sweeping a knee up to block her hand with his thigh, twisting and following the motion up with a push palm strike, forcing her to scramble back or take a hit to the chest.
Sam’s eyes widened. “I think she just pissed him off.”
“Ya think, Sammy?” Dean muttered, some of his anger leaking through. His green eyes, narrowed in satisfaction, never left Prentiss. Prissy there was about to set the Hunter loose, she just didn’t know it.
Sam just smacked him on the back of the head. “It’s Sam, and yeah, I think so,” he nodded. “Look. His stance isn’t nearly as forced.”
Oh yeah, Spencer wasn’t pretending to be the bumbling, uptight nerd anymore.
Taking a visibly calming breath, Spencer didn’t wait for Prentiss to come to him; he went to her. A strike that would have scored an intentionally harmless point on her guard was turned away with more force than necessary, the woman clearly intending on following up with another dirty strike to the back of his head as he passed.
Only to find Spencer not where she thought he would be. Instead of floundering like he normally would have, Spencer spun back on a tight pivot and backed up a step inside her guard, using her off-balanced stance in the wake of a missed attack to flip her over his hip. Following her down, one hand still on her wrist, the other was poised by his ear and ready to snap down in a palm strike to her nose.
When they had dealt with the zombie demons, that strike would have been intended to push the bone of the nose up into the brain…Dean wondered if Prissy knew that.
Well, not the part about the zombie demons…
There was a moment of silence while they stared at each other and Spencer let her go, standing from his knees in a fluid motion and moving warily back into set position. Dean could see the confusion in the eyes of Reid’s teammates, those that had followed them down into the bowels of the building, and the thoughtful speculation in the oldest, Gideon’s. It was clear none of them had any idea there was any more to Spencer Reid than what the man showed on the surface. Dean shook his head in disgust. Idiots.
His satisfaction slipped away when he turned his attention back to the match, only to watch as Prentiss launched an attack at Spencer’s exposed back. If the rage on her face was any clue, this time she wasn’t holding back. Dean heard a couple of sharp intakes of breath from the men surrounding him - Hotchner and Morgan, his mind supplied - felt Sam make a move on his right, but there was no time…
…and Spencer didn’t need their help.
Spinning at the last second, he grabbed one wrist as she passed and twisted it up around her back. Then, the other hand on her neck and shoulder to keep her immobile, Spencer pushed the bent arm higher, forcing a soft cry of pain from her as she tried to rise up to ease the pressure. Only when she stopped struggling did he place his lips close to her ear, saying with deceptive mildness, “I told you; you don’t know me.”
Dean heard Sam growl beside him and echoed it. A trick like that could have been dangerous if Spencer had been the inexperienced geek he pretended to be. As it was, she was lucky all he had done was hold her. If it had been him, Dean would have knocked her on her ass.
Once she was no longer a threat they were in for an even bigger surprise; at least the members of Reid’s BAU team were. Dean half expected Spencer’s next move and beside him Sam was chuckling. For good reason, too. Dean remembered all too well their Dad’s lessons on Succubi and never underestimating the seeming ‘weakness’ of the opposite sex.
Apparently so did Spencer. “Cuffs!”
To Dean’s vast amusement it was the blond computer tech, Garcia, who, snickering, slipped a hand around Morgan’s waist, taking them out of the case on his belt and tossing them to their boy with a tsking glare at Agent Prentiss. Once the woman’s wrists were secure, Spencer let her go. Having learned his lesson, the hazel eyes never left her glaring figure.
Leaning closer into his brother, Dean whispered, “I wonder if Spin has a set of those cuffs at home?”
“Probably,” Sam grinned. “You’d look real good cuffed to his bed.”
Dean groaned at the immediate image brought to mind; him, naked and cuffed to the massive oak bed, Sammy and Spencer circling his vulnerable body like hungry predators...
“Not nice, Sam,” Dean warned, squirming in his seat and trying to adjust himself without anyone noticing.
“I know.” Sam just looked at him with that predatory heat already in his eyes, pinning him in place. Noticing no one was paying any attention to them, he offered Dean a feral smile that promised so many dark and dirty things. “And you like me that way.”
God that was so true.
Good thing the trunk of the Impala held more than just their weapons; it was also a safe place to hide their toys, too. And Dean’s Collar…
Casting his now ‘innocently-watching-the-mat’ brother a glare, Dean tried not to squirm in his seat and prayed the BAU didn’t get a case before they could get back to Spencer’s apartment, and - well - make out like bunnies…
Wondering just where Sam had put that ball gag…
end