The Consequence of Showing Off - R, Sam/Dean
Title: The Consequence of Showing Off
Author: thelonejuliet
Characters: Sam, Dean, Dean's ego and a bike
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 1,972
Rating: R, to be safe
Warnings: Incest, handjobs, boy kissing
Spoilers: To be safe: anything aired in the U.S.
Disclaimer: These boys aren't mine, and neither are the bicycles.
Author's Note(s): Written for layne67, who wanted a h/c fic based on this icon (*points*) by thesuthernangel.
All fics found here or here!
Summary: Dean, being Dean, injures himself when his bicycle crashes.
The Consequences of Showing Off
“Dean, come on. Do you want to blow our cover?” Sam grumbled, flopping onto a park bench, bike lying haphazardly against the side. Sweat was already beginning to cover his body, and they’d only been outside for a few minutes. It was late October but Louisiana apparently didn’t know it was supposed to be cooling down.
Dean sat down next to him, visibly fuming. “Sam,” he stated, “I do not ride bikes. Seriously. It’s worse than wearing shorts and you’ve never seen that happen, have you?”
Sam sighed and turned to look at his brother’s profile. He had to smile at the dirty look Dean was giving his own government-issued bike; it looked like it was making him physically sick to even think about riding the thing. But it was all Dean’s fault that they had to do it anyway. He’s the one that told the local police they’d be happy to help look for the missing girls, patrolling the streets if necessary. Sam had to admit that it was a good idea, since it would leave them without the police on their backs while they looked for the thing that was taking the girls. Dean would just have to live with their role - and he said as much.
“But, Sam,” Dean whined, voice going an octave higher than Sam had ever heard it, “it’s so…dumb.”
“Look.” Sam turned to face his brother. “We’ll do this for a couple hours then we’ll head back to the room. We have to keep up the front though, okay, man? We can’t have anyone getting suspicious of us or we can kiss this hunt, and our momentary freedom, goodbye.”
Dean groaned, slumping down further on the bench. “Fine,” he conceded. “But, I don’t have to like it.”
Sam stood up and righted his bike, murmuring under his breath about stupid, pain-the-ass brothers.
* * *
By the time they hit the three hour mark, Dean actually seemed to be enjoying himself, riding through the small town almost leisurely. Sam had looked over quite a few times to find Dean grinning like a loon. It made him happy and sad at the same time - happy to see Dean genuinely having a good time and sad to realize that he’d probably never gotten to experience anything like this as a kid. Either way, though, it was nice sight.
Sam was ready to call it a day right about the time Dean decided he wanted to try and show off. Apparently, he fancied himself a daredevil of sorts - and almost crashed several times.
Just when Sam was going to force Dean to head back to the motel, they came across some weird sigils carved into the iron bars of a gate that lead back to what looked like an old plantation. The house, barely seen from the street, looked ancient.
Sam stopped on a dime, having spotted the markings right away. Dean, however, had chosen that moment to remove his hands from the handlebars for another trick; too late, he saw that Sam had stopped. He put his hands back where they belonged and swerved to miss his brother. But he over-corrected the bike when he started to wipe out and slid right into the gate, landing hard.
Sam couldn’t help it, he bust out laughing. Dean, Mr. Tough Guy, Mr. I-Don’t-Ride-Bikes-Because-They’re-Lame, couldn’t even manage to brake properly. Oh, sure, Dean was embarrassed, his entire face turning a dark pink, but it was too much of an opportunity to miss. Sam rarely got the chance to make fun of his brother for such mundane things. Dean was the cool, graceful one; Sam was the giant who had never learned how to properly use his big feet.
Dean got back on his feet, grumbling, but almost immediately went down again with a weak cry. Sam sobered up instantly, dropping his bike to the ground to help Dean up.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when Dean gripped his arms, fingers digging in painfully.
“My ankle,” Dean hissed out through clenched teeth, “I think I sprained it.”
Sam nodded, guilt from the laughing slowly easing its way into his stomach. He threw Dean’s arm around his shoulders and thanked whoever was listening that they were only a couple blocks from the motel. “Okay, man, I can’t carry you…do you think you can make it back to the motel? Or do you want me to run back and get the Impala?”
Dean seemed to think over for a minute, and Sam was sure he was going to try to tough it out and walk all the way back, immense pain or not. He was about ready to force Dean to just sit down when Dean said, in voice laced with self-loathing, “Get the car and come back?”
Sam sighed, relieved, as he helped his brother over to the curb. He hopped back on his bike and pedaled as fast as he could back to the motel, hoping that it was just a sprain. There were too many things out there, going bump in the night, since the Devil’s Gate was opened for them to be sidelined by broken bones.
* * *
After a quick trip to the hospital, at Sam’s insistence of course, they were sure that Dean’s ankle was just sprained and had plenty of painkillers to add to their supplies. Dean was determined to be a terrible patient; he’d done nothing but grumble and whine since they’d climbed into the Impala to head back to the motel.
Dean hopped his way into the room, ignoring Sam’s offered help and the crutches. Then he threw himself down on his bed and didn’t even look at Sam. He grunted when Sam mentioned going out to get them some food, and didn’t even flinch when Sam all but slammed the door in frustration.
When Sam returned with the grease that passed for food in the town diner, Dean had managed to shower and even rewrap his ankle on his own. Sam knew immediately that the action had been taxing on Dean, though, because he was lying on his bed, face contorted into a grimace.
Sam’s attitude softened at the sight; Dean so very rarely let himself express pain of any sort. He set the bags on the counter, grabbed a soda out of the mini-fridge and the painkillers, and sat down next to Dean.
“Here,” he said setting everything on the nightstand, “take these. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
Dean rolled over, and Sam was a little surprised to see the expression on his face. It was one he hadn’t seen since before he left for Stanford, that I-need-help, I-need-you look. His breath caught in his throat as he realized what could happen in the next instant, what he could have again, his mind immediately wandering to half-forgotten memories.
Dean sat himself up, wincing when his ankle moved the wrong way, and swallowed a couple of pills. Rather than lying back down though, he just sat there, looking at Sam with a sort of hopeful expression on his face, the heat from his body speeding up Sam’s heart just a little too much for his liking. Sam couldn’t stop himself from leaning in.
Centimeters away from Dean’s lips, Sam stopped himself. “Are you sure?”
Dean just nodded and crossed the threshold himself, molding his mouth to Sam’s. Sam groaned as his senses were overwhelmed with something he never let himself believe he’d have again. Sam moved one hand to the back of Dean’s head, the other sliding down to Dean’s waist as he pressed forward, pushing his brother down on the bed.
Dean moved with Sam without complaint, making sure their mouths never lost contact. Sam slipped his tongue along Dean’s bottom lip, moaning when he was granted access to Dean’s mouth and Dean’s tongue slid along his, slippery and wet and phenomenally sensual. He was careful to avoid jarring Dean’s ankle as he straddled Dean’s thighs, happy that Dean had decided to forego a T-shirt as he let his hands roam along the muscled torso.
Dean’s breathing hitched, small sounds slipping past his lips that drove Sam crazy. Sam sat back to pull his shirt off, but wasted no time in fusing his lips back to Dean’s once it was accomplished, putting more into the kiss, pouring every ounce of himself that he’d been holding back for too long. He was getting lightheaded, amazed that it was all really happening, that he really had Dean writhing underneath him again.
Sam was so wrapped up in kissing Dean, so intent on making up for lost time that he hardly noticed his aching hard-on until he felt Dean’s hand working his zipper open and slipping past denim and cotton to wrap around his dick. He whimpered against Dean’s lips, the sound quickly turning into a moan when Dean began stroking him, when he felt Dean’s cock twitch against his hip.
He hesitantly pulled his mouth away from Dean’s and moved down, licking and biting a trail along Dean’s jaw. He slipped a hand in Dean’s boxer briefs, pulling Dean’s cock out through the slit, using the other hand to hold himself up as they jacked each other off. He knew Dean was close to losing it, as close as he was himself, from the bitten off curses and groans that were pouring out of Dean’s mouth nonstop.
Sam thrust into Dean’s fist, loving the feel of Dean’s calluses sliding roughly against his dick, his thumb rubbing over the head on every upstroke. Trying to make it last as long as possible, even as he felt the telltale tingle start at the base of his spine, he focused all of his attention on lavishing Dean’s neck and chest with his tongue, with his teeth. He remembered all of Dean’s hotspots from before and he was determined to hit them all before their orgasms took over.
Dean, obviously recognizing that Sam was trying to stay in control, upped the ante, stroking faster as he forced Sam’s mouth back to his with his other hand. He fucked Sam’s mouth with his tongue, making Sam dizzy with the need to cum. Too soon, Sam was spilling inside his pants, cuming all over Dean’s fist.
Staving off the fucked-out haze just a little longer, he quickened his pace on Dean’s cock, squeezing tighter, rougher, on every downstroke, knowing that Dean wouldn’t be able to hold back. He wasn’t disappointed. Dean pulled away from Sam’s kiss, turning his head on the pillow as he let out a low moan and Sam felt his dick spasm in his hand, warmth shooting out and coating Sam’s hand and Dean’s chest.
They worked each other through the aftershocks before Sam rolled off and collapsed next to his brother, each breath a difficult task. It was a few minutes before he realized that Dean was laughing.
He rolled onto his side and smacked his brother in the chest. “What’s so funny, Dean?” he demanded.
Dean rolled over to face Sam, with a grimace as he resettled his ankle, laughter dying away but smile remaining in place. Sam forgot his irritation at the look of pure contentment on his brother’s face.
“Nothing,” Dean whispered after a minute, running his fingertips along Sam’s jaw. “Nothing’s funny. It’s just…all this time…”
Sam nodded. “I know. I just didn’t think you would…you know, want to. Again.”
Dean smiled, eyes slipping closed as the painkillers began to override the adrenaline. “Always wanted to, Sammy. But, you wanted normal…”
Sam scooted in closer, tangling his limbs with Dean’s. “This is my normal now,” he whispered.
He knew Dean didn’t hear it; Dean was already fast asleep. With a quick kiss placed on Dean’s forehead and the knowledge that, now, he could do that any time he wanted, Sam quickly followed.
**************
Feedback is love, just like doughnuts. ^_^
_
Author: thelonejuliet
Characters: Sam, Dean, Dean's ego and a bike
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 1,972
Rating: R, to be safe
Warnings: Incest, handjobs, boy kissing
Spoilers: To be safe: anything aired in the U.S.
Disclaimer: These boys aren't mine, and neither are the bicycles.
Author's Note(s): Written for layne67, who wanted a h/c fic based on this icon (*points*) by thesuthernangel.
All fics found here or here!
Summary: Dean, being Dean, injures himself when his bicycle crashes.
The Consequences of Showing Off
“Dean, come on. Do you want to blow our cover?” Sam grumbled, flopping onto a park bench, bike lying haphazardly against the side. Sweat was already beginning to cover his body, and they’d only been outside for a few minutes. It was late October but Louisiana apparently didn’t know it was supposed to be cooling down.
Dean sat down next to him, visibly fuming. “Sam,” he stated, “I do not ride bikes. Seriously. It’s worse than wearing shorts and you’ve never seen that happen, have you?”
Sam sighed and turned to look at his brother’s profile. He had to smile at the dirty look Dean was giving his own government-issued bike; it looked like it was making him physically sick to even think about riding the thing. But it was all Dean’s fault that they had to do it anyway. He’s the one that told the local police they’d be happy to help look for the missing girls, patrolling the streets if necessary. Sam had to admit that it was a good idea, since it would leave them without the police on their backs while they looked for the thing that was taking the girls. Dean would just have to live with their role - and he said as much.
“But, Sam,” Dean whined, voice going an octave higher than Sam had ever heard it, “it’s so…dumb.”
“Look.” Sam turned to face his brother. “We’ll do this for a couple hours then we’ll head back to the room. We have to keep up the front though, okay, man? We can’t have anyone getting suspicious of us or we can kiss this hunt, and our momentary freedom, goodbye.”
Dean groaned, slumping down further on the bench. “Fine,” he conceded. “But, I don’t have to like it.”
Sam stood up and righted his bike, murmuring under his breath about stupid, pain-the-ass brothers.
* * *
By the time they hit the three hour mark, Dean actually seemed to be enjoying himself, riding through the small town almost leisurely. Sam had looked over quite a few times to find Dean grinning like a loon. It made him happy and sad at the same time - happy to see Dean genuinely having a good time and sad to realize that he’d probably never gotten to experience anything like this as a kid. Either way, though, it was nice sight.
Sam was ready to call it a day right about the time Dean decided he wanted to try and show off. Apparently, he fancied himself a daredevil of sorts - and almost crashed several times.
Just when Sam was going to force Dean to head back to the motel, they came across some weird sigils carved into the iron bars of a gate that lead back to what looked like an old plantation. The house, barely seen from the street, looked ancient.
Sam stopped on a dime, having spotted the markings right away. Dean, however, had chosen that moment to remove his hands from the handlebars for another trick; too late, he saw that Sam had stopped. He put his hands back where they belonged and swerved to miss his brother. But he over-corrected the bike when he started to wipe out and slid right into the gate, landing hard.
Sam couldn’t help it, he bust out laughing. Dean, Mr. Tough Guy, Mr. I-Don’t-Ride-Bikes-Because-They’re-Lame, couldn’t even manage to brake properly. Oh, sure, Dean was embarrassed, his entire face turning a dark pink, but it was too much of an opportunity to miss. Sam rarely got the chance to make fun of his brother for such mundane things. Dean was the cool, graceful one; Sam was the giant who had never learned how to properly use his big feet.
Dean got back on his feet, grumbling, but almost immediately went down again with a weak cry. Sam sobered up instantly, dropping his bike to the ground to help Dean up.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when Dean gripped his arms, fingers digging in painfully.
“My ankle,” Dean hissed out through clenched teeth, “I think I sprained it.”
Sam nodded, guilt from the laughing slowly easing its way into his stomach. He threw Dean’s arm around his shoulders and thanked whoever was listening that they were only a couple blocks from the motel. “Okay, man, I can’t carry you…do you think you can make it back to the motel? Or do you want me to run back and get the Impala?”
Dean seemed to think over for a minute, and Sam was sure he was going to try to tough it out and walk all the way back, immense pain or not. He was about ready to force Dean to just sit down when Dean said, in voice laced with self-loathing, “Get the car and come back?”
Sam sighed, relieved, as he helped his brother over to the curb. He hopped back on his bike and pedaled as fast as he could back to the motel, hoping that it was just a sprain. There were too many things out there, going bump in the night, since the Devil’s Gate was opened for them to be sidelined by broken bones.
* * *
After a quick trip to the hospital, at Sam’s insistence of course, they were sure that Dean’s ankle was just sprained and had plenty of painkillers to add to their supplies. Dean was determined to be a terrible patient; he’d done nothing but grumble and whine since they’d climbed into the Impala to head back to the motel.
Dean hopped his way into the room, ignoring Sam’s offered help and the crutches. Then he threw himself down on his bed and didn’t even look at Sam. He grunted when Sam mentioned going out to get them some food, and didn’t even flinch when Sam all but slammed the door in frustration.
When Sam returned with the grease that passed for food in the town diner, Dean had managed to shower and even rewrap his ankle on his own. Sam knew immediately that the action had been taxing on Dean, though, because he was lying on his bed, face contorted into a grimace.
Sam’s attitude softened at the sight; Dean so very rarely let himself express pain of any sort. He set the bags on the counter, grabbed a soda out of the mini-fridge and the painkillers, and sat down next to Dean.
“Here,” he said setting everything on the nightstand, “take these. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
Dean rolled over, and Sam was a little surprised to see the expression on his face. It was one he hadn’t seen since before he left for Stanford, that I-need-help, I-need-you look. His breath caught in his throat as he realized what could happen in the next instant, what he could have again, his mind immediately wandering to half-forgotten memories.
Dean sat himself up, wincing when his ankle moved the wrong way, and swallowed a couple of pills. Rather than lying back down though, he just sat there, looking at Sam with a sort of hopeful expression on his face, the heat from his body speeding up Sam’s heart just a little too much for his liking. Sam couldn’t stop himself from leaning in.
Centimeters away from Dean’s lips, Sam stopped himself. “Are you sure?”
Dean just nodded and crossed the threshold himself, molding his mouth to Sam’s. Sam groaned as his senses were overwhelmed with something he never let himself believe he’d have again. Sam moved one hand to the back of Dean’s head, the other sliding down to Dean’s waist as he pressed forward, pushing his brother down on the bed.
Dean moved with Sam without complaint, making sure their mouths never lost contact. Sam slipped his tongue along Dean’s bottom lip, moaning when he was granted access to Dean’s mouth and Dean’s tongue slid along his, slippery and wet and phenomenally sensual. He was careful to avoid jarring Dean’s ankle as he straddled Dean’s thighs, happy that Dean had decided to forego a T-shirt as he let his hands roam along the muscled torso.
Dean’s breathing hitched, small sounds slipping past his lips that drove Sam crazy. Sam sat back to pull his shirt off, but wasted no time in fusing his lips back to Dean’s once it was accomplished, putting more into the kiss, pouring every ounce of himself that he’d been holding back for too long. He was getting lightheaded, amazed that it was all really happening, that he really had Dean writhing underneath him again.
Sam was so wrapped up in kissing Dean, so intent on making up for lost time that he hardly noticed his aching hard-on until he felt Dean’s hand working his zipper open and slipping past denim and cotton to wrap around his dick. He whimpered against Dean’s lips, the sound quickly turning into a moan when Dean began stroking him, when he felt Dean’s cock twitch against his hip.
He hesitantly pulled his mouth away from Dean’s and moved down, licking and biting a trail along Dean’s jaw. He slipped a hand in Dean’s boxer briefs, pulling Dean’s cock out through the slit, using the other hand to hold himself up as they jacked each other off. He knew Dean was close to losing it, as close as he was himself, from the bitten off curses and groans that were pouring out of Dean’s mouth nonstop.
Sam thrust into Dean’s fist, loving the feel of Dean’s calluses sliding roughly against his dick, his thumb rubbing over the head on every upstroke. Trying to make it last as long as possible, even as he felt the telltale tingle start at the base of his spine, he focused all of his attention on lavishing Dean’s neck and chest with his tongue, with his teeth. He remembered all of Dean’s hotspots from before and he was determined to hit them all before their orgasms took over.
Dean, obviously recognizing that Sam was trying to stay in control, upped the ante, stroking faster as he forced Sam’s mouth back to his with his other hand. He fucked Sam’s mouth with his tongue, making Sam dizzy with the need to cum. Too soon, Sam was spilling inside his pants, cuming all over Dean’s fist.
Staving off the fucked-out haze just a little longer, he quickened his pace on Dean’s cock, squeezing tighter, rougher, on every downstroke, knowing that Dean wouldn’t be able to hold back. He wasn’t disappointed. Dean pulled away from Sam’s kiss, turning his head on the pillow as he let out a low moan and Sam felt his dick spasm in his hand, warmth shooting out and coating Sam’s hand and Dean’s chest.
They worked each other through the aftershocks before Sam rolled off and collapsed next to his brother, each breath a difficult task. It was a few minutes before he realized that Dean was laughing.
He rolled onto his side and smacked his brother in the chest. “What’s so funny, Dean?” he demanded.
Dean rolled over to face Sam, with a grimace as he resettled his ankle, laughter dying away but smile remaining in place. Sam forgot his irritation at the look of pure contentment on his brother’s face.
“Nothing,” Dean whispered after a minute, running his fingertips along Sam’s jaw. “Nothing’s funny. It’s just…all this time…”
Sam nodded. “I know. I just didn’t think you would…you know, want to. Again.”
Dean smiled, eyes slipping closed as the painkillers began to override the adrenaline. “Always wanted to, Sammy. But, you wanted normal…”
Sam scooted in closer, tangling his limbs with Dean’s. “This is my normal now,” he whispered.
He knew Dean didn’t hear it; Dean was already fast asleep. With a quick kiss placed on Dean’s forehead and the knowledge that, now, he could do that any time he wanted, Sam quickly followed.
**************
Feedback is love, just like doughnuts. ^_^
_