"When All Else Fails" (ficlet) Dean/Sam
Title: "When All Else Fails"
Author: tallisen (Posted under lil_wincest)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Summary: Dean has come up with a new way to make money and wants Sam to help him out.
Sam stepped out of the bathroom one fine February morning, in an equally fine mood after a long night’s rest. He felt like he could take on any monster in the world with his hair clean and damp and spirit equally refreshed from the herbal soap and shampoo.
Dean glanced up from their laptop, eyes following his half naked brother across the room. He seemed to be debating something, which left him with a humorously perplexed expression.
Sam watched him watch him until forced to turn his back to get clothes from his duffle bag. “Did you find a new job?”
“Not exactly.” His brother replied tentatively.
“Then what’s wrong?” Sam pulled a white t-shirt over his shoulders and a button up flannel over that.
“It’s just that we’re running low on money.”
“We’re always running low on money.” Sam corrected, standing once more to face his brother with a pair of jeans in his hands. “So what’s different about this time?”
Dean’s smirk betrayed a secret amusement that made Sam more wary. “I got a great gig lined up that can get us a thousand bucks.”
“Not pool hustling!” Sam grumbled and tugged his pants up beneath the bath towel.
“No, not that.” Dean replied in an equally annoyed tone. He still believed cheating drunken middle aged bikers out of their money was fair game. “This is legit.”
Sam’s interest immediately peeked, as well as a suspicion at the back of his mind that told him he didn’t want to know. “So, tell me about it.”
Dean turned the laptop on the table so Sam could see it from where he was putting on socks.
The young Winchester squinted at the glowing monitor, and saw a man in nothing more than a cowboy hat and pair of white boxer briefs. He stared at it in confusion. “Uh, I think you may have the wrong website up there.”
“No, it’s the right one.” Dean replied, pointing at the well toned model with his right index finger. “This is our next gig.”
Sam’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh I can be.” Dean’s expression said something altogether different. “Just think of it Sam! A thousand bucks each, just for one hour!”
Sam stood aghast, his eyes flicking between the laptop and his brother. “You want me to model underwear?!”
“Damn straight.”
--
Sam found himself sitting in the waiting room of a very large business building with a magazine in his lap, and a brother at his side who was much too quiet for Sam’s liking. He still couldn’t figure out how Dean could be so damn comfortable showing the world his briefs. If they weren’t in serious need of the money, Sam would have turned the job down. He tried reassuring himself over and over that their pictures would most likely not be used, but he only grew more anxious as the clock above them ticked their time away, and the line of people waiting ahead of them began to dwindle.
Dean was reading an article in ‘Better Homes and Gardening’; one that had pictures of fluffy golden pancakes and leafy table decorations. Sam found that grating on his nerves, so he stared at Dean until he glanced up. “What?”
“How can you act so calm?” Sam hissed, keeping his voice low enough to avoid the receptionist’s attention. “And what the hell is so fascinating about flapjacks?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “For one thing, I’m a guy. I could care less who sees my ass so long as I get money. And secondly, these recipes sound great.” He pointed at the page he had been reading. “Orange cornmeal pancakes! Doesn’t that make you hungry?”
Sam’s stomach did a flip, and it had nothing to do with lack of food. He glared at his brother and tightened his grip around the chair arms. Millions of people staring at him. Some of the sicker ones could even jack off to his pictures, and he would never know!
Dean flipped his magazine closed and tossed it onto the coffee table at their feet, then leaned back in his chair and took Sam’s closest hand into his. “Hey.”
Sam’s heated gaze fell on him. “I am seriously, not in the mood.”
“I know what you’re thinking.” Dean said huskily. “Who’s going to look at these pictures? What will they do?”
Sam found himself fixated on his brother’s lips. That voice did things to him, and to have his brother use it in public just made him feel even hotter. “Uh…”
“Don’t worry.” Dean leaned over the two chair arms, bringing those luscious lips closer; inch by torturous inch. “They’ll all know you’re mine.”
Sam was so fixated on Dean’s mouth, that what he said would have been completely missed, had the receptionist not intervened in her nasal voice. “Mr. Crosby, Mr. Croucier, you can go on back now.”
Sam blinked several times in an attempt to clear his mind. Then he spun back to his brother who was already climbing from his seat. “What do you mean they’ll know I’m yours?”
Dean flashed him a cheeky grin before marching off down the hall. Never one to be ignored, Sam hurried after him.
“Damn it Dean, what are you talking about?”
His brother stopped in front of an open doorway and stepped inside. It was a wide open room with a white curtain hanging from one wall with hundreds of lights, and multiple cameras on tripods aimed at it. Sam followed and saw many more photographers moving around the setting.
“Robbin? Juan?” A flamboyant older man in a purple suit bounded up to them, clapping his hands together in excitement. “Oh aren’t you two just spectacular?!”
Dean grinned and playfully nudged Sam in the arm. “This guy here’s a bit nervous.”
“Awww.” The man cooed and to Sam’s great distress reached around and tweaked him in the ass. “Don’t worry hun, we’ll take care of you and your stud of a boyfriend. The dressing room is right over there!” He pointed over his shoulder to the far end of the room. “Your wardrobe is labelled and ready. When you’re done come back out here.”
Sam didn’t know what to say. He was still processing the fact he’d been accosted by a gay man who thought his brother was his boyfriend.
Dean placed a supportive hand on his shoulder and directed him around the man. “Thank you…”
“Paul! Call me Paul!”
“Right.” Dean called back to him. “Thanks, we’ll hurry this along.”
Once safely in the small brightly lit changing room, Sam shut the door and leaned against it, his expression of utter disbelief. “I cannot believe you signed us up for a gay…” He gestured pathetically, unable to come up with the proper words. He swore instead.
“Ah come on Sam.” Dean wrapped his arms around his waist playfully. “We’re under fake names, no one we know reads these magazines anyway, and we are getting paid a thousand bucks to make out in front of a camera. What more could we ask for?”
A heavy blush crossed the youngest Winchester’s face. “We’re supposed to what?!”
Dean leaned in and kissed him lightly, pausing to breath hot against Sam’s lips. “There’s nothing to worry about. Don’t you like it when I talk dirty to you?” He asked in a deep husky voice.
Sam felt his cares begin to melt away. Focusing on Dean’s mouth, he let his tongue flick out between his teeth, to lick his brother’s bottom lip. “You promise no one we know will see this?”
It was a ridiculous question, since there was no way Dean held that sort of power, but Sam needed to hear him say it. “I Promise. The only people who’ll see this are lonely 40 year olds who read cheesy porno mags. And they'll all be jealous of what I have,” he added, “because they’ll know you’re mine.” Dean rolled his hips against Sam’s for emphasis, eliciting a low moan from him. “So are we okay?”
Sam looped his fingers through his brother’s belt loops and pulled him hard against him. “We’re more than okay.”
--
Six weeks later, Dean was sitting at the laptop when Sam stepped out of the bathroom, white cotton towel wrapped around his waist. He glanced up at his younger brother and whistled. “Hot man walking! Make way!”
Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. He wandered over to the edge of Dean’s bed and perched himself on it, long damp legs wide and teasing. “What did you find this time?”
Dean’s eyes lingered on the towel that was preventing him a full view of Sam’s upper thighs. “Well, we’re kind of low on money again.”
Sam leaned back on the mattress, shaking his head. “I don’t care how you get it; just leave me out of it.”
Dean stuck his bottom lip out. “You don’t want to model again? Paul said you had the cutest little ass he had ever seen!”
“Uh, yeah he said that and he said he wanted to stick me in a pink leopard spotted g-string.”
Dean cocked his head to the side as if remembering and grinned. “Oh yea, I thought that would have been cute!”
Sam glared at him. “Well excuse me for having standards.”
“So,” The eldest Winchester brother shifted forward in his seat. “I can hustle all I want, and you won’t complain?”
“You can hustle, but not all you want. Just until you win enough money to sustain us for a while, okay?”
“Oh by the way,” Dean took the laptop in one hand and turned it toward Sam, “Paul e-mailed us the final add they released.”
Sam hopped off the bed and joined his brother at the table. His face went red when he saw the picture displayed. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you talked me into that!”
--
Across the country in a shabby two star motel on the California coast, John Winchester unfolded the morning paper to read while he enjoyed a steaming cup of coffee. The first two pages yielded no clues for his hunt, nor the next three. He was starting to wonder if he was just running in circles, or searching in the wrong places.
Sighing, he tossed the newspaper face down on the table and drank the rest of his brew. When he brought the mug down he found himself gazing at an advertisement on the last page for a new brand of boxer briefs: “Don Juan”. The name wasn’t what made him choke on his coffee. There, lying amidst pink satin pillows and golden brown teddy bears were his sons with their lips locked in a heated kiss, arms wrapped around one another, and legs splayed to properly show the brand name.
The subtitle read, “The World’s Greatest Lover - Only a zip away.”
Author: tallisen (Posted under lil_wincest)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Summary: Dean has come up with a new way to make money and wants Sam to help him out.
Sam stepped out of the bathroom one fine February morning, in an equally fine mood after a long night’s rest. He felt like he could take on any monster in the world with his hair clean and damp and spirit equally refreshed from the herbal soap and shampoo.
Dean glanced up from their laptop, eyes following his half naked brother across the room. He seemed to be debating something, which left him with a humorously perplexed expression.
Sam watched him watch him until forced to turn his back to get clothes from his duffle bag. “Did you find a new job?”
“Not exactly.” His brother replied tentatively.
“Then what’s wrong?” Sam pulled a white t-shirt over his shoulders and a button up flannel over that.
“It’s just that we’re running low on money.”
“We’re always running low on money.” Sam corrected, standing once more to face his brother with a pair of jeans in his hands. “So what’s different about this time?”
Dean’s smirk betrayed a secret amusement that made Sam more wary. “I got a great gig lined up that can get us a thousand bucks.”
“Not pool hustling!” Sam grumbled and tugged his pants up beneath the bath towel.
“No, not that.” Dean replied in an equally annoyed tone. He still believed cheating drunken middle aged bikers out of their money was fair game. “This is legit.”
Sam’s interest immediately peeked, as well as a suspicion at the back of his mind that told him he didn’t want to know. “So, tell me about it.”
Dean turned the laptop on the table so Sam could see it from where he was putting on socks.
The young Winchester squinted at the glowing monitor, and saw a man in nothing more than a cowboy hat and pair of white boxer briefs. He stared at it in confusion. “Uh, I think you may have the wrong website up there.”
“No, it’s the right one.” Dean replied, pointing at the well toned model with his right index finger. “This is our next gig.”
Sam’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh I can be.” Dean’s expression said something altogether different. “Just think of it Sam! A thousand bucks each, just for one hour!”
Sam stood aghast, his eyes flicking between the laptop and his brother. “You want me to model underwear?!”
“Damn straight.”
--
Sam found himself sitting in the waiting room of a very large business building with a magazine in his lap, and a brother at his side who was much too quiet for Sam’s liking. He still couldn’t figure out how Dean could be so damn comfortable showing the world his briefs. If they weren’t in serious need of the money, Sam would have turned the job down. He tried reassuring himself over and over that their pictures would most likely not be used, but he only grew more anxious as the clock above them ticked their time away, and the line of people waiting ahead of them began to dwindle.
Dean was reading an article in ‘Better Homes and Gardening’; one that had pictures of fluffy golden pancakes and leafy table decorations. Sam found that grating on his nerves, so he stared at Dean until he glanced up. “What?”
“How can you act so calm?” Sam hissed, keeping his voice low enough to avoid the receptionist’s attention. “And what the hell is so fascinating about flapjacks?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “For one thing, I’m a guy. I could care less who sees my ass so long as I get money. And secondly, these recipes sound great.” He pointed at the page he had been reading. “Orange cornmeal pancakes! Doesn’t that make you hungry?”
Sam’s stomach did a flip, and it had nothing to do with lack of food. He glared at his brother and tightened his grip around the chair arms. Millions of people staring at him. Some of the sicker ones could even jack off to his pictures, and he would never know!
Dean flipped his magazine closed and tossed it onto the coffee table at their feet, then leaned back in his chair and took Sam’s closest hand into his. “Hey.”
Sam’s heated gaze fell on him. “I am seriously, not in the mood.”
“I know what you’re thinking.” Dean said huskily. “Who’s going to look at these pictures? What will they do?”
Sam found himself fixated on his brother’s lips. That voice did things to him, and to have his brother use it in public just made him feel even hotter. “Uh…”
“Don’t worry.” Dean leaned over the two chair arms, bringing those luscious lips closer; inch by torturous inch. “They’ll all know you’re mine.”
Sam was so fixated on Dean’s mouth, that what he said would have been completely missed, had the receptionist not intervened in her nasal voice. “Mr. Crosby, Mr. Croucier, you can go on back now.”
Sam blinked several times in an attempt to clear his mind. Then he spun back to his brother who was already climbing from his seat. “What do you mean they’ll know I’m yours?”
Dean flashed him a cheeky grin before marching off down the hall. Never one to be ignored, Sam hurried after him.
“Damn it Dean, what are you talking about?”
His brother stopped in front of an open doorway and stepped inside. It was a wide open room with a white curtain hanging from one wall with hundreds of lights, and multiple cameras on tripods aimed at it. Sam followed and saw many more photographers moving around the setting.
“Robbin? Juan?” A flamboyant older man in a purple suit bounded up to them, clapping his hands together in excitement. “Oh aren’t you two just spectacular?!”
Dean grinned and playfully nudged Sam in the arm. “This guy here’s a bit nervous.”
“Awww.” The man cooed and to Sam’s great distress reached around and tweaked him in the ass. “Don’t worry hun, we’ll take care of you and your stud of a boyfriend. The dressing room is right over there!” He pointed over his shoulder to the far end of the room. “Your wardrobe is labelled and ready. When you’re done come back out here.”
Sam didn’t know what to say. He was still processing the fact he’d been accosted by a gay man who thought his brother was his boyfriend.
Dean placed a supportive hand on his shoulder and directed him around the man. “Thank you…”
“Paul! Call me Paul!”
“Right.” Dean called back to him. “Thanks, we’ll hurry this along.”
Once safely in the small brightly lit changing room, Sam shut the door and leaned against it, his expression of utter disbelief. “I cannot believe you signed us up for a gay…” He gestured pathetically, unable to come up with the proper words. He swore instead.
“Ah come on Sam.” Dean wrapped his arms around his waist playfully. “We’re under fake names, no one we know reads these magazines anyway, and we are getting paid a thousand bucks to make out in front of a camera. What more could we ask for?”
A heavy blush crossed the youngest Winchester’s face. “We’re supposed to what?!”
Dean leaned in and kissed him lightly, pausing to breath hot against Sam’s lips. “There’s nothing to worry about. Don’t you like it when I talk dirty to you?” He asked in a deep husky voice.
Sam felt his cares begin to melt away. Focusing on Dean’s mouth, he let his tongue flick out between his teeth, to lick his brother’s bottom lip. “You promise no one we know will see this?”
It was a ridiculous question, since there was no way Dean held that sort of power, but Sam needed to hear him say it. “I Promise. The only people who’ll see this are lonely 40 year olds who read cheesy porno mags. And they'll all be jealous of what I have,” he added, “because they’ll know you’re mine.” Dean rolled his hips against Sam’s for emphasis, eliciting a low moan from him. “So are we okay?”
Sam looped his fingers through his brother’s belt loops and pulled him hard against him. “We’re more than okay.”
--
Six weeks later, Dean was sitting at the laptop when Sam stepped out of the bathroom, white cotton towel wrapped around his waist. He glanced up at his younger brother and whistled. “Hot man walking! Make way!”
Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. He wandered over to the edge of Dean’s bed and perched himself on it, long damp legs wide and teasing. “What did you find this time?”
Dean’s eyes lingered on the towel that was preventing him a full view of Sam’s upper thighs. “Well, we’re kind of low on money again.”
Sam leaned back on the mattress, shaking his head. “I don’t care how you get it; just leave me out of it.”
Dean stuck his bottom lip out. “You don’t want to model again? Paul said you had the cutest little ass he had ever seen!”
“Uh, yeah he said that and he said he wanted to stick me in a pink leopard spotted g-string.”
Dean cocked his head to the side as if remembering and grinned. “Oh yea, I thought that would have been cute!”
Sam glared at him. “Well excuse me for having standards.”
“So,” The eldest Winchester brother shifted forward in his seat. “I can hustle all I want, and you won’t complain?”
“You can hustle, but not all you want. Just until you win enough money to sustain us for a while, okay?”
“Oh by the way,” Dean took the laptop in one hand and turned it toward Sam, “Paul e-mailed us the final add they released.”
Sam hopped off the bed and joined his brother at the table. His face went red when he saw the picture displayed. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you talked me into that!”
--
Across the country in a shabby two star motel on the California coast, John Winchester unfolded the morning paper to read while he enjoyed a steaming cup of coffee. The first two pages yielded no clues for his hunt, nor the next three. He was starting to wonder if he was just running in circles, or searching in the wrong places.
Sighing, he tossed the newspaper face down on the table and drank the rest of his brew. When he brought the mug down he found himself gazing at an advertisement on the last page for a new brand of boxer briefs: “Don Juan”. The name wasn’t what made him choke on his coffee. There, lying amidst pink satin pillows and golden brown teddy bears were his sons with their lips locked in a heated kiss, arms wrapped around one another, and legs splayed to properly show the brand name.
The subtitle read, “The World’s Greatest Lover - Only a zip away.”