Like The Third Time (Wincest) (1/1) (PG-13)
Title: Like The Third Time
Author: kindaskimpy
Pairing: Dean/Sam (Wincest, baby!)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Summary: Dean is tactless. Sam loves him.
Spoilers: None
Word count: ~1100
Disclaimer: I do not know or own any of these boys so none of this is real.
Author’s Note: I couldn’t let #WincestWeek (or #Wincest Week, whatever) pass me by without contributing something to the cause so here it is. It’s not much but I hope you enjoy.
“Hey, I got a question for you,” Dean’s voice broke the silence in the room but Sam still didn’t look up from the book he was reading. This was research time, after all, and Dean had done nothing for the past two hours but sit across from him and tap his fingers… or whistle… or hum… or shuffle his feet loudly… or play drums on the table with the number 2 pencils until they broke - basically everything but actually help Sam. “Hey! I’m talking to you, Pollyanna!”
Sam sighed loudly, dropping his head even lower for a moment before turning his gaze upward and meeting Dean’s eyes, amusement etched in them just like at the corners of his mouth. “You realize we’re never going to finish if you keep interrupting me, right?”
“I have a legitimate question!” Dean argued. “Come on, I’ll help you if you answer my question.”
“Is this going to be another one of those, ‘pull my finger’ things you do? ‘Cause seriously, Dean, aren’t you getting a little old for that? I mean, you’re practically pushing forty…”
“Forty?!” Now it was Sam’s turn to look amused. It was rare that he ever managed to get under Dean’s skin but if one thing would do it, it’d be calling him old and senile, and Sam knew just when to do it… like right before sex. “Thirty-four, you little shit, and I can still kick your ass just as hard as I did when you thought you could sneak out of the room in the middle of the night and I wouldn’t find out!”
“I was twelve and you were sixteen, that was hardly fair!”
“Fair schmair! I’d kick your ass again right now if it weren’t for my strict policy of not hitting a woman,” and there was that cocky grin again, the one Sam never (out loud, anyway) admitted to being turned on by.
“Ha - ha… get to your question, asshole!”
“See? I win, like always.”
Sam sighed again, shook his head and stood up from his seat; enough momentum in his movements to propel across the room but Dean stopped him before he could reach the door, with a firm grasp on Sam’s wrist. “Relax, Samantha. You need to learn to take a joke.”
Sam closed his eyes for a moment, steadied his breathing, and clenched his jaw - it was his version of counting to ten to calm down. It seldom worked, especially when it was Dean causing the disturbance. He was mere seconds from snapping his wrist away from Dean’s grasp when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean stand up and take a step towards him, invading what everyone else would consider personal space but to the Winchesters was nothing but an empty distance needing to be filled. “I’m sorry,” Dean said, finally speaking up after a long moment of silence, trying to meet Sam’s gaze now that they stood in front of each other but Sam was still looking away from him - the wall, the TV, the dresser, the nasty wallpaper - he was looking anywhere but Dean’s face. “Sam…” he added, barely above a whisper.
“Just… let me go walk it off, okay?”
“No, not okay, Sammy.” Dean still searched for Sam’s eyes with his own but Sam’s gaze still avoided him at all costs. He subconsciously moved closer still, now fully pressed up against his taller brother, something he’d never forgive Sam for… even though he knew it wasn’t Sam’s fault he’d gotten taller. It’s just that… no matter how old Sam got or how many times he saved Dean’s ass in a pinch, Dean still liked to think of him as his little Sammy - the one who’d always need his big brother to protect him. “Would you look at me? Sam?”
It was obvious he wasn’t going to get away from this one so easily so Sam dropped his gaze and finally locked eyes with his brother. Of course, calling Dean just his “brother” was the equivalent of saying the Pope was just “some religious guy” but to most people, that’s what they were: brothers. Dean was also his friend, the only family he had left, his confidante, his partner, his soul mate… his everything. “What, Dean?” Sam asked, his voice not betraying his exasperation, even as their breaths mingled in the mere millimeters that separated them.
“I said I’m sorry.”
“And I heard you the first time!”
Dean didn’t have to ask why Sam was so upset. So much of their communication was non-verbal and Sam’s body language as of late told Dean everything he needed to know about how Sam was feeling.
“Yeah but…” Dean stopped talking for a moment and just looked into Sam’s eyes, the kind of look that always scared Sam because if anyone could see into his soul with just a look, it was Dean. “You didn’t…” he paused again to lean in even closer still, “You didn’t… believe me the first time.” The last word had barely escaped his lips when they’d found their (familiar) way onto Sam’s and he was kissing him like it was their first time - well, not the first time because that had been clumsy and awkward to say the least… but more like the third time when it had lead to more.
Though surprised at first, Sam returned the kiss, but the fact that he did was no surprise. When Dean kissed you, there was no other option and Sam knew that all too well. The way Dean’s lips felt against his own, they way their bodies melded together, even now as he let himself be lead by his older brother so he was pressed up against the wall - there was simply no other option but to respond. “Dean…” Sam gasped out breathlessly when their lips finally broke apart and Dean had found his way to Sam’s neck.
“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean responded in kind, in a throaty mumble against the hot skin of Sam’s neck as his expert fingers worked the buttons on his Sammy’s shirt.
“What did… oh God… what did you want to know?”
Dean smirked; Sam could feel it against his skin, the scrape of those perfect teeth against his sensitive flesh. In fact, Sam felt Dean give a little nibble before he pulled back just enough so that they could look into each other’s eyes again. Well, the idea was to look into Dean’s eyes but Sam ended up staring at those lips, moistened with a mix of their saliva and red with the evidence of their passionate kiss. It was only when Dean spoke again that Sam managed to look up.
“I was wondering…” Dean started, and licked his own lips, loving the taste of Sam on them, “When you were younger and you kept that stupid diary… what did you write about me?” By now, Dean’s smirk had turned and to a full-on smile and Sam couldn’t help but mirror it with one of his own before grabbing the back of Dean’s neck and pulling him into another kiss.
Author: kindaskimpy
Pairing: Dean/Sam (Wincest, baby!)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Summary: Dean is tactless. Sam loves him.
Spoilers: None
Word count: ~1100
Disclaimer: I do not know or own any of these boys so none of this is real.
Author’s Note: I couldn’t let #WincestWeek (or #Wincest Week, whatever) pass me by without contributing something to the cause so here it is. It’s not much but I hope you enjoy.
“Hey, I got a question for you,” Dean’s voice broke the silence in the room but Sam still didn’t look up from the book he was reading. This was research time, after all, and Dean had done nothing for the past two hours but sit across from him and tap his fingers… or whistle… or hum… or shuffle his feet loudly… or play drums on the table with the number 2 pencils until they broke - basically everything but actually help Sam. “Hey! I’m talking to you, Pollyanna!”
Sam sighed loudly, dropping his head even lower for a moment before turning his gaze upward and meeting Dean’s eyes, amusement etched in them just like at the corners of his mouth. “You realize we’re never going to finish if you keep interrupting me, right?”
“I have a legitimate question!” Dean argued. “Come on, I’ll help you if you answer my question.”
“Is this going to be another one of those, ‘pull my finger’ things you do? ‘Cause seriously, Dean, aren’t you getting a little old for that? I mean, you’re practically pushing forty…”
“Forty?!” Now it was Sam’s turn to look amused. It was rare that he ever managed to get under Dean’s skin but if one thing would do it, it’d be calling him old and senile, and Sam knew just when to do it… like right before sex. “Thirty-four, you little shit, and I can still kick your ass just as hard as I did when you thought you could sneak out of the room in the middle of the night and I wouldn’t find out!”
“I was twelve and you were sixteen, that was hardly fair!”
“Fair schmair! I’d kick your ass again right now if it weren’t for my strict policy of not hitting a woman,” and there was that cocky grin again, the one Sam never (out loud, anyway) admitted to being turned on by.
“Ha - ha… get to your question, asshole!”
“See? I win, like always.”
Sam sighed again, shook his head and stood up from his seat; enough momentum in his movements to propel across the room but Dean stopped him before he could reach the door, with a firm grasp on Sam’s wrist. “Relax, Samantha. You need to learn to take a joke.”
Sam closed his eyes for a moment, steadied his breathing, and clenched his jaw - it was his version of counting to ten to calm down. It seldom worked, especially when it was Dean causing the disturbance. He was mere seconds from snapping his wrist away from Dean’s grasp when out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean stand up and take a step towards him, invading what everyone else would consider personal space but to the Winchesters was nothing but an empty distance needing to be filled. “I’m sorry,” Dean said, finally speaking up after a long moment of silence, trying to meet Sam’s gaze now that they stood in front of each other but Sam was still looking away from him - the wall, the TV, the dresser, the nasty wallpaper - he was looking anywhere but Dean’s face. “Sam…” he added, barely above a whisper.
“Just… let me go walk it off, okay?”
“No, not okay, Sammy.” Dean still searched for Sam’s eyes with his own but Sam’s gaze still avoided him at all costs. He subconsciously moved closer still, now fully pressed up against his taller brother, something he’d never forgive Sam for… even though he knew it wasn’t Sam’s fault he’d gotten taller. It’s just that… no matter how old Sam got or how many times he saved Dean’s ass in a pinch, Dean still liked to think of him as his little Sammy - the one who’d always need his big brother to protect him. “Would you look at me? Sam?”
It was obvious he wasn’t going to get away from this one so easily so Sam dropped his gaze and finally locked eyes with his brother. Of course, calling Dean just his “brother” was the equivalent of saying the Pope was just “some religious guy” but to most people, that’s what they were: brothers. Dean was also his friend, the only family he had left, his confidante, his partner, his soul mate… his everything. “What, Dean?” Sam asked, his voice not betraying his exasperation, even as their breaths mingled in the mere millimeters that separated them.
“I said I’m sorry.”
“And I heard you the first time!”
Dean didn’t have to ask why Sam was so upset. So much of their communication was non-verbal and Sam’s body language as of late told Dean everything he needed to know about how Sam was feeling.
“Yeah but…” Dean stopped talking for a moment and just looked into Sam’s eyes, the kind of look that always scared Sam because if anyone could see into his soul with just a look, it was Dean. “You didn’t…” he paused again to lean in even closer still, “You didn’t… believe me the first time.” The last word had barely escaped his lips when they’d found their (familiar) way onto Sam’s and he was kissing him like it was their first time - well, not the first time because that had been clumsy and awkward to say the least… but more like the third time when it had lead to more.
Though surprised at first, Sam returned the kiss, but the fact that he did was no surprise. When Dean kissed you, there was no other option and Sam knew that all too well. The way Dean’s lips felt against his own, they way their bodies melded together, even now as he let himself be lead by his older brother so he was pressed up against the wall - there was simply no other option but to respond. “Dean…” Sam gasped out breathlessly when their lips finally broke apart and Dean had found his way to Sam’s neck.
“Yeah, Sammy?” Dean responded in kind, in a throaty mumble against the hot skin of Sam’s neck as his expert fingers worked the buttons on his Sammy’s shirt.
“What did… oh God… what did you want to know?”
Dean smirked; Sam could feel it against his skin, the scrape of those perfect teeth against his sensitive flesh. In fact, Sam felt Dean give a little nibble before he pulled back just enough so that they could look into each other’s eyes again. Well, the idea was to look into Dean’s eyes but Sam ended up staring at those lips, moistened with a mix of their saliva and red with the evidence of their passionate kiss. It was only when Dean spoke again that Sam managed to look up.
“I was wondering…” Dean started, and licked his own lips, loving the taste of Sam on them, “When you were younger and you kept that stupid diary… what did you write about me?” By now, Dean’s smirk had turned and to a full-on smile and Sam couldn’t help but mirror it with one of his own before grabbing the back of Dean’s neck and pulling him into another kiss.