SPN: The Other Way Around (Sam/Dean, Sam/Sarah/Dean) NC17
Title: Other Way Around, or 5 Ways Sam and Dean Didn't Have Their First Time
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Sarah/Dean; Sam/Dean; Dean/Sam
Chronology: roughly four months after s.1 ends
Rating/Warnings: NC17; implied threesome, dirty talk, incest, top!Sam, you get the picture.
Disclaimer: Mine. Oh, yes they are. Really. Sigh. I wish.
Author's Notes: for just_katarin who introduced me to the joys of Wincest. Bitch. From her prompt on my 5 Things meme. Thanks to frogfrizz who doesn't watch Supernatural (yet) for beta-duty above and beyond, and to moveablehistory for beta-duty and handholding. You three rock my world.
Word count: 4905
Summary: Sarah wants to know how Sam and Dean happened, and Dean's in the mood to bullshit. Sam's in the mood to indulge them both. No one spins a story like the Winchester brothers.
The three of them lay on one lumpy-ass bed in Cranbrook, B.C., sharing Fernie First Trax Browns, because Dean said Molson tasted like piss and they didn't sell American beer up here. Correction, he and Sarah shared one of the nut brown brews, and Dean drank his own. Because when Dean said he'd do anything for his brother, that apparently extended to sharing girls but not beers.
Sam forgave him. A guy had to draw the line somewhere, even somewhere as stupid as post-coital beer. Besides, if he made puppy eyes at him, Dean would cave, just like he had with the Lucky Charms.
From his dangerously relaxed sprawl, Sam glanced over at Dean, and at Sarah who splayed more across them than between them. They wore the same mind-blown grins as he did. Dean's a little more smug, as he swigged off his brew. Same old Dean. Sarah's a little softer, filled with something like wonder. It'd been four months, but none of them had gotten used to it yet, especially not him, and the relaxed curve of his mouth still felt out of place on his face.
Going back for Sarah after Dad took off again, it'd been one of the best things he and Dean had ever done. Guilt tightened his smile, made his eyes and jaw ache with the press of memory. It still felt disloyal to Jess, but she was gone. And when he really dug deep, he knew she'd never have been okay with this. Not any of it.
Sarah, she'd clicked right in, easing the tension between him and Dean - not ending it, because it'd take the Apocalypse to do that, and with everything they'd fought together, he wasn't sure even that would stop them being at each other like Alpha silverbacks fighting for control of a pack. Still, Sarah made it easier; taking care of her meant they didn't clash as much about which one of them protected the other. And, she'd accepted him and Dean as easy as she had haunted paintings and hunting what went bump in the night.
That they weren't werewolves made the whole thing seriously fucked up, but they both liked Sarah, and Dean didn't look lost when he saw them together, which made everything okay. Or as near to okay as living in stolen moments between hunts could ever be.
While Sam thought lazy post-sex thoughts, Sarah finished their beer, then held her hand out imperiously for Dean's. "Oh, Sarah, you really don't want to-"
Dean put the beer in Sarah's hand and flashed Sam that trademarked Dean "now don't you look like an asshole?" smirk. "What the lady wants, the lady gets."
Then it was Sarah's turn to be smug, one dark eyebrow raised, head cocked; he hadn't quite figured out what that expression meant, but there was a hint of a challenge in it, which he liked. Sly seemed incongruous with her still-perfect skin and two loose little girl braids, but that was Sarah for you. Soft but surprisingly strong, brash but also warm, and the world, including Dean, repaid that in kind. Sam and Dean made sure it did.
And in return, she did things for them. Making sure Dean had M&Ms and Colgate regular flavor like they'd had when they were kids, and Sam had Lucky Charms and Irish Spring because Jess had liked it. Buying the big bottle of her Pantene conditioner so Dean didn't call him a girl about his hair, and of extra moisturizing Vaseline Intensive Care lotion so he didn't call Dean one.
Or things like getting up to get more beer, when their asses were too lazy or glowy or sore to do it for themselves. Like now.
After handing Dean one bottle and him two, she crawled back onto the bed between them. He held out the beer, which she took with a kissy-face. Dean might be smoother than he was, or think so anyway, but not even Sam could miss an invitation that obvious. Leaning over, he pursed his lips and pressed them to hers, like two duckbills. Dean rolled his eyes, but Sarah laughed, and that made feeling incredibly stupid worth it.
"So." She looked from him to Dean, eyes wide and oh-so-innocent, but Sam didn't buy it, not one bit. "How did it happen, you two being together?"
Dean grinned, stretching back to cross his arms behind his head. Mostly to show off for Sarah, and him. It worked; they were both looking. "You tell her, Sammy."
When she pivoted at the waist, braids swinging out, the exaggerated curiosity in her raised eyebrows and 'o' shaped mouth had him hiding a smile with a duck of his head. "Well, it's kind of a long story…"
Pouting, Sarah punched him in the arm.
He huffed out a soft laugh. "Okay, all right."
It hadn't been anything big. Just one of those him and Dean things, but he could tell from the way Dean arched his eyebrow at him over the tipped back bottle. Dean was in the mood to bullshit.
Sam met his gaze and lowered his lashes once, a nod -- the one they used to say "I'm ready" when talking would get them killed. It was on.
No one lied like Dean. That is, no one except Sam. He had been planning to be a lawyer, after all. So Sam rested his Fernie against his thigh and wound up to tell Sarah an outrageous tale…knowing Dean would try to top him.
1. Bored, as told by Sam
"We were out in Beverly Hills, staying at the Beverly Hilton…what?" Right away, Sarah's eyebrows went up, but he pointed his beer at her. "I didn't say we paid for it."
She gave a Dean-worthy eye roll at that, but waved her hand, gesturing for him to continue.
"Big Halloween bash, and someone knew someone who knew someone who knew Dad. It was an Ognissanti moon, you know what that is, right? It's when there's a full moon on All Soul's Day, or Halloween. Anyhow, the veil between our world and the other world gets very thin on full moons, but especially when they coincide with major pagan festivals, since so many of them were sympathetic magic designed to pierce the veil in the first place."
Over Sarah's head, Dean gave him the "and this is the best you can do?" face, but Sam didn't let it throw him off stride.
"The hotel manager's grandmother called him to warn him off hosting the studio party. He offered us three grand to hang around the hotel for the weekend in case the hired occultists raised something real. Dad had a job, but a gig, for cash, plus an all-expenses paid weekend of lying around in our boxers? Dean was on it like-"
"Like I'm on Sammy's ass." Dean flashed Sarah a cocky grin.
"Whatever, man. Anyhow, we're in this swank room, not the penthouse but still, it was a sweet set-up. Dean made it through the minibar in the first half an hour, because he wouldn't drink anything but tequila and the Miller. I, of course, being the more cultured of the two of us-"
A pillow smacked him in the chest.
"Ow, Dean, that hurt. I'm still healing." Putting on his best wounded face, Sam tilted his head down to look at the Sasquatch claw marks across his ribs. The innocent Griz of Fernie legend hadn't been anything like innocent, and his bigger cousins actually did eat babies.
Sarah awwwwwed, but Dean drew his eyebrows together. "Shut up, pussy. I didn't hear you complaining an hour ago."
"See what I mean? Resorting to profanity. Tsk." Sam shook his head sadly. "So, we ordered up a couple of six packs for Tim the Toolman Taylor over there, drank those, watched all the movies, drank more beer, watched the porn, and the next thing I knew, Dean had his hand in his boxers.
"So I said to him, 'Do you mind?'
"And he said, "What, Sammy, you want me to jack off in the bathtub? You'd still know.'
"I gave him the look, and said, 'Yeah, but then I wouldn't have to watch. Jeez, Dean.'
"So he waggled his eyebrows and said, 'You don't have to just watch.'
"I got kinda tense."
"Kinda?" Dean smirked. "If you call scrabbling backwards across the bed so fast you wasted a perfectly good Miller 'kinda tense', then okay."
It felt good, working together, even for something this ridiculous. So when he glowered at Dean this time, there was a hint of a smile under it and Dean definitely caught it. "I only spilled a few drops. He surprised me," he appealed to Sarah.
"Uh-huh. The story, Sam."
Damn, she even looked like a schoolteacher when she took that tone.
"All right, all right." His palms went up in surrender. "So, I said, 'Dean, be serious.' Then he said, 'I am being serious, Sammy, we could fuck. It's not like we don't live in each other's asses anyway.' He had a point, and I was horny as all hell from the damned porn, so I shrugged, said, 'Okay,' and we did."
Sarah laughed, and Dean shook his head. "Anyone ever tell you, you talk too much, Sammy? You had her until you started embellishing with the porn."
Sam chucked the pillow at him, which Dean neatly ducked.
Sitting up against the fake elk antler headboard, Dean wrapped an arm around Sarah, pulled her back against his chest, then took a long drink. "All right, kiddies, get comfortable. I'm gonna tell you how it really happened." He gave Sam that 'watch and learn, Grasshopper' grin, and…
2. Accidentally, as told by Dean
"Ya see, Sarah, Sammy here has a little problem with nocturnal emissions." Obviously mocking Sam, Dean took a didactic tone: "Those are wet dreams, in case you didn't know."
Sam reached around Sarah to smack Dean in the shoulder. "That's rich coming from the guy who wakes up with his hand on his dick six days out of seven." It'd be seven out of seven, but occasionally Sam woke him with a blowjob so he wouldn't bitch all day.
"Hey, who's telling this story? That's right, I am. Now shut up, Sir Comes-a-Lot."
Sarah laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth to keep the beer from spraying. Sam didn't think it was particularly funny. So what if he came more like a Dixie cupful than a tablespoonful?
"Anyhow, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…" Dean gave Sam the 'shut it' look. "Sammy, here, has a tendency to get hard in his sleep."
Grinning, Sarah wiped her mouth with her hand. "Hadn't noticed that."
That did it. Sam blushed.
"Awww, isn't that cute? Look at you blushing. Makes me want to pinch your cheeks. Or retch. Now quit that, I'm trying to tell a story here."
Dean took a swig off his beer, while the fingers of his other hand traced the upper curve of Sarah's breast. Her warm dark eyes and Dean's intense green both fixed on him, which made his blush fade. That was probably perverse, but he knew the weight of Dean's gaze. It felt familiar, comforting.
"We're out in BFE Florida -- what was that place called, Sammy? The one with the orb lights and the kids on the stairs."
"Cassadaga, near Daytona," Sam supplied automatically.
Dean snapped his fingers. "That's right, Cassadaga. Cute Cuban waitress in the coffeeshop there-" Sarah glared at him over her shoulder. "But not my type at all.
"After an uneventful search of the premises, no ghosts in sight, we go to bed. A few hours later, I wake up and Sammy's monster cock is digging at my ass, and I'm thinking to myself, Hell No. This ain't happening this way. But Junior also has a very short fuse. So before I can do anything about it, he's splashing hot jizz all over my back. Ruined my favorite boxers--"
"Now, would those be Donald Duck or Dora the Explorer?" Over a long swallow of beer, Sam arched a mocking eyebrow. "I can't remember."
Snickering, Sarah pressed her hand to her mouth to cover the accompanying hiccough.
Dean just pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Lame, Sammy. They were stripes, which you should know, because you slept with them for a security blanket for months afterwards. Anyway, Sarah, he's got his mammoth paw wrapped around my dick, which, I gotta tell you, to my way of thinking is a lot more like it. So he starts pumping, I'm going with it, and then, all the sudden-"
Sarah smacked her hand down on the bed. "BAM!"
He looked at Dean, and then at Sarah. "Bam?" he and Dean asked together.
"Yeah." The bottom end of her beer swang out. "You know, BAM! Someone slammed a window, shot something, whatever. You got interrupted."
"No, nothing interrupted us. This is a sex story, not a ghost story."
Elbowing Dean in the ribs, Sarah squirmed away with a muttered "patronizing jerk" and Sam thought about reminding him that it had actually been both. And that the massacred Native American kids had spooked Dean more than almost anything they'd hunted with their sad dark eyes and ritual chants. But then Sarah splayed herself ostentatiously against him and he just smirked instead.
As though it'd been his intention all along, but entirely too casually for that to be true, Dean propped his head on his hand.
"All the sudden…" Sarah prompted, and Dean rewarded her with an approving smile; Sam's chest tightened a little.
"Suddenly, Sammy freezes. Dead stop, and I'm just getting going, but Junior's got a conscience and I know it. So me, the model of brotherly concern, I say, 'Sammy?' and Sam starts blubbering, 'Oh my god, Dean, I'm so sorry. I didn't… God, I'm so sorry.'"
"Don't listen to him, Sarah. I did not cry." Actually, he had, the first time he'd gone off in his sleep. He'd thought the come was ectoplasm. Dad had been great with rock salt and firearms, but normal growing up stuff? Forget it. Dean got stuck with giving Sam 'the talk', just like he'd gotten stuck soothing Sam's tears that night, and helping him clean up.
"He totally did. He cried like the sad little girl that he is. But I wasn't having any of that, because he's my little brother and I'd do anything for him."
Dean lifted his chin toward Sam, then tilted his head in acknowledgment, and Sam could tell from the long pause that Dean was remembering -- how he'd strung Sam along the night that inspired this story, telling him about a ghost who sucked the life out of boys through their dicks, and how when Sam had gotten all worked up, he'd felt so bad he'd apologized for an hour, then taken Sam to the diner at the corner for hot fudge sundaes.
It was almost a minute before Dean spoke again, and when he did his voice was softer. "So I wipe his tears and say, 'Shut up, Sam. Shut up, and roll over. We're gonna do that again, only we're doing it right this time.'"
Like most good lies, it was highly plausible, except the crying part, and it took Sarah almost thirty seconds to toe Dean in the thigh.
"Hey, watch it, I'm still--"
"Pussy." This time it was Sarah talking to Dean, and Sam buried his face in her shoulder, stifling a laugh. "C'mon, Sam, how did it really happen?
3. Possessed, as told by Sam
There'd been an article in the paper that morning that gave him the idea, and by that point, they'd had enough beer that the story came flowing out almost without thought.
"We were driving through Ohio, on our way to check out a haunted horse barn in Kentucky. The morning paper had a front page story about a series of frat party date-rapes at Ohio State. I would've passed it up, but it 'felt' funny. Too many in too short a period. If it were hazing they'd have covered it up. If it were roofies the cops would've busted them, and if the girls were lying, someone would've broke. So we went to check it out."
"Damned good thing we did." Dean tipped his head all the way back to drain his Fernie, then got up to get another. "Those girls were scared. Damned generous with the you-saved-my-life nookie, too."
"You are so crass." Sam swirled the remains of his beer in the bottle. "Bring me one?"
"Low, Dean. Not even you would hit on girls who'd just survived rape scares." Sarah got bossy when she drank. It was a good look for her, Sam decided. "Continue, Sam."
"As the lady wishes." Tucking her braid behind her shoulder, he bit back a grin. "We get to Columbus, do our usual checking around. 'Anyone seen anything weird?', look into the local urban legends, you know. Only there's nothing and no one's talking. But then this one girl, one of the victims, comes to find-
"Me." The mattress dipped as Dean got back into bed. He passed out the beers, then tugged the blanket up over all their legs, looking out for them, like always. "She came to talk to me, because Sammy's chick-fu is weak except when it comes to Jess and you."
He must not have hidden the wince as well as he'd thought, because Dean set his hand on Sam's arm. "Hey, man, sorry. Shouldn't have mentioned Jess."
Sam shook his head. "Did you just apologize? Man, you're drunk." Jess was gone, and not talking about her dishonored her memory. He wouldn't do that, no matter how much it hurt. So he gave Sarah a little half smile. "He's right, you know, my chick-fu really is weak."
"You're telling me. I practically had to beg you to take me out." Though she teased, her voice held a kindness, and that helped. From the beginning, she'd had a way of making him comfortable, like ordering beer to save him from deciding on wine, and she'd gotten better at it over time.
"I practically had to plant my foot up his ass."
"Moving right along…" Sam mock-glared at Dean. "Yes, the girl came to talk to Dean, because he's a smooth bastard. And, after a little prompting, she tells us the guy's eyes turned glowing red when he penetrated her, but she hadn't told the police because she hadn't been drugged or drunk and she didn't want them to think she was crazy. So, Dean pats her hand and walks her back to her dorm room."
"Nice guy that he is-"
"Nice guy that I am. Wait, I'm a nice guy? When did that happen?"
"When you shared your beer with me. Shut up, Dean." Her tone wasn't as soft with Dean as it was with him, but she rubbed the top of Dean's thigh affectionately.
"Right, so, from the red eyes, we figure out we're dealing with a demon, probably one of the lower orders. As luck would have it, there's a frat party that night. We show up, loaded down with salt, crosses, holy water, the usual demon-kit.
"We haven't been there half an hour when we see this guy getting a lot too friendly with a this tiny Asian girl who looks like she can't decide whether to sink into the floor or run like hell. Dean interrupts, looking for her best friend, Amy Joy, and I hit him with the 'Christo' and the holy water. The demon leapt from assface to Dean, and…"
He cracked open his fresh one, took a sip, then said matter-of-factly, "While I was trying to perform the exorcism, he tied me up and sucked my cock."
"That's not how I remember it, Sammy. I distinctly remember me fucking your ass. And you were so pretty, begging for it -- all exposed with your arms bound above your head and your smart mouth stretched around the gag." Dean winked at Sarah. "We ought to do that again some time."
Since they'd started up with Sarah, Dean had gotten a lot more comfortable about the two of them together, but not bondage-comfortable. And definitely not tying him up, he hoped, or else they'd be having a different sort of sex conversation. One that involved Dean, facedown on the mattress.
Sam cleared his throat. "Dean. Possessed. Sucking my cock. I know you were sucking me off, Dean, since I convinced you to untie me because you wouldn't be able to fuck me if you didn't." To Sarah, he said, "Of course, he listened and when he did? Bingo, exorcism."
"Afterwards, I reamed his ass."
"You did not. We cast the demon back to Hell and -
"And comfort nookie. With you."
Growling, Sam hid his face in his hand. Sarah inhaled deeply, which did great things for her breasts, then pointed her bottle at his brother. "Your turn, Dean."
4. Drunk, as told by Dean
"It was little Sammy's eighteenth birthday." Sam could always tell how drunk Dean was getting by how often he called him Sammy, and the gentleness that crept into his tone when he did.
When Dean was drunk was about the only time Sam didn't mind him calling him Sammy, and he didn't correct him now.
"Dad was gone on a hunt, but before he left, he gave me some cash and said, "Take your brother out. Take care of him.'"
"And you always do what Dad says."
"Yes, Sam, I do."
For a minute, Dean's gaze went hard and Sam could've kicked himself for saying it. He hadn't meant to start anything.
"No, Dean, you don't. You saved our lives, mine and Dad's, because you didn't listen about the Colt." Thank you. But he didn't say that, either.
Sarah watched, dark eyes weighing, and Sam held his breath, but when Dean said, "Yeah," that was the end of it. In his Dean way, the one Sam sometimes hated but was grateful for right now, he brushed it off like nothing had happened and got on with his story.
"So, anyway, I took Sammy down to this topless bar. Getting in was no problem, since part of Sammy's birthday present was a fake ID. Dad and I figured if he could unload a sawed-off into a Maledetti, he could have a few beers.
"But lightweight over there, he got drunk, and I'm not talking pretty, mellow drunk like now. I'm talking slobbering, can't stand up, pawing one of the girl's tits-excuse me, breasts-drunk."
Sam felt like they'd completely switched brains, when he said, "C'mon, man, she loved it."
It was worth it to see Dean smirk before he sipped his beer. "Whatever, dude, I totally saved your ass." Then Dean's smug-look broke into a grin. "You should've heard him, whining about being horny. God, what a pussy."
Sarah's warm laughter chased away the last shadows of their almost-fight, and he could've kissed her. In fact, he would kiss her, and so what if leaning over her shoulder wasn't the best angle for kissing? She didn't seem to mind.
"I get his sorry ass back to the room, and he's trying to jack off but you know he's totally uncoordinated when he's drunk." Dean kept talking like he didn't notice them, and they stopped. "I'm watching him for a minute, trying not to laugh, when I finally took pity on him and said, 'Jesus, Sam. Here, let me.' Then I sucked him off."
"And then you plowed his ass." Still stroking her lip from the little bite he'd given her, Sarah rolled her eyes. "Why do all of your stories have you fucking him? I swear I've seen that like twice in all these months. I think this is wish-fulfillment time for Dean. Sam?"
5. Breaking Through, as told by Sam
"All right, I'll tell you," he said around a mouthful of lukewarm brew. "But I'm warning you, it's going to ruin your image of Dean forever."
Reaching over, Dean pinched his bruised nipple.
His beer splashed over his fingers. "Hey!"
"C'mon, Sammy, do your worst."
Oh, he would.
"About three years ago, Dean came to visit me at Stanford. We'd been out drinking, and my roommate went to visit his girlfriend so Dean could have his bed. We got ready to sleep, and Dean got in bed. Then he rolled over, and was just lying there watching me. We'd been kissing and jerking off together for years, and he had that look. So, I asked him what was up, and he kinda blew me off.
"I was in no mood for Dean to get all bitchy on me, so I went over to his bed and straddled his hips."
Across the mattress from him, Dean's eyes darkened. They'd be fucking again when he'd finished this story, no doubt, because Sarah saw it, too. She moved away from him to snuggle up to Dean and stroke his chest.
His brother wrapped his arm around Sarah. The twinge in his gut wasn't jealousy -- not really. He could share Dean with Sarah. He just hadn't gotten used to it yet.
Sam set his empty on the nightstand, then lay down behind Sarah, half-hard cock pressing into her ass. She looked back over her shoulder, dark eyes heavy-lidded and fringed with coal black lashes. Jealousy faded, and, hand curving around her thigh, he started talking again, voice lower and softer.
"He pushed me hard in the chest, protesting, 'Quit it, Sam, come on, that's not funny.' I wasn't being funny. I'd gotten pretty sick of the whining and the 'we shouldn't do this', and I wanted to fuck him, or him to fuck me, or anything but the sulky bullshit he'd been pulling, so I just stayed there, waiting, breathing into his mouth and watching his eyes."
Dean's breathing grew shallower, Sarah's too, and Sam loved the power of it. He caught Sarah's hand and wrapped it around Dean's dick. "Nice and slow, Sarah," he whispered across her throat, and she murmured her consent.
"Jesus, Sam."
God, Dean. He wouldn't be able to maintain this for long but for now he kept talking, letting them both hear the desire in his voice. "Dean turned his head away, wouldn't look at me, and something snapped. I remember saying, 'Want you, Dean, I want you and I'm tired of waiting for you to get over it. You're going to give it up to me, aren't you? You're not going to make me rub off against your stomach, are you?'"
In Sarah's hand, Dean leaked and twitched, body arching off the bed. "Fuck," he whispered. "No."
"That's right, Dean, that's what you said. 'No.' You remember what happened after that, don't you, Dean?"
Dean locked their gazes together, and the sheer need made Sam ache. When Dean spoke, his voice was raw, husky: "You said, 'Good. I'm going to fuck you now, Dean.'"
Like Dean, he'd gotten over feeling guilty about what they did together, but the way Dean looked at him, like salvation, damnation, and perfection all rolled into one…sometimes it made Sam awkward, being everything to Dean like that. But when Dean needed him like he did now, Sam wouldn't refuse him.
Still, he wasn't above messing with him first. "And I did fuck you. I opened you around my fingers, stretching you until you begged for me to take you, and I did, slow and hard."
Moaning, Sarah rocked her hips back against him. When Sam bit down on Sarah's throat, sucking the blood to the surface the way he'd done with the Dean the first time they fucked, Dean watched, panting through parted lips, and Sam knew he remembered.
He backed off, kissing her shoulder. "The whole time, Dean kept moaning, 'I love you, Sammy, I love you so much.' And after we got through, he cried like a little girl."
Sarah started it, laughing so hard he thought he'd come from her ass rubbing on his cock. Dean glared his snake glare, but he broke, too, and whenever Dean laughed like that, Sam couldn't help but laugh either.
"Dude," Dean gasped, holding his sides. "You better watch your cereal for spiders, Sammy. That was cruel."
"To be fair, Dean, you did tell him to do his worst."
"Thank you."
Dean glowered, then groused. "Yeah, but I figured he'd make up some shit with hearts and flowers and sparkly rainbows."
That made her laugh again, and Sam leaned over to palm Dean's dick. "I'll make it up to you, tiger."
"You better."
Turning onto her back to look up at him, Sarah grinned, eyes flashing. "Okay, one of you two overgrown toddlers tell me how it really happened, so we can fuck."
Sam tugged on her braid. "How do you think it happened?"
Her mouth twisted, and her gaze drifted off over his shoulder, the way it always did when she was trying to figure something out. After a minute, she smiled, pretty and soft. "You almost died, and instead of Dean saying he was glad you didn't, like any normal human, he got pissed and shoved you around, then sucked you off."
He and Dean shared a smile across her body. "Other way around."
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Sarah/Dean; Sam/Dean; Dean/Sam
Chronology: roughly four months after s.1 ends
Rating/Warnings: NC17; implied threesome, dirty talk, incest, top!Sam, you get the picture.
Disclaimer: Mine. Oh, yes they are. Really. Sigh. I wish.
Author's Notes: for just_katarin who introduced me to the joys of Wincest. Bitch. From her prompt on my 5 Things meme. Thanks to frogfrizz who doesn't watch Supernatural (yet) for beta-duty above and beyond, and to moveablehistory for beta-duty and handholding. You three rock my world.
Word count: 4905
Summary: Sarah wants to know how Sam and Dean happened, and Dean's in the mood to bullshit. Sam's in the mood to indulge them both. No one spins a story like the Winchester brothers.
The three of them lay on one lumpy-ass bed in Cranbrook, B.C., sharing Fernie First Trax Browns, because Dean said Molson tasted like piss and they didn't sell American beer up here. Correction, he and Sarah shared one of the nut brown brews, and Dean drank his own. Because when Dean said he'd do anything for his brother, that apparently extended to sharing girls but not beers.
Sam forgave him. A guy had to draw the line somewhere, even somewhere as stupid as post-coital beer. Besides, if he made puppy eyes at him, Dean would cave, just like he had with the Lucky Charms.
From his dangerously relaxed sprawl, Sam glanced over at Dean, and at Sarah who splayed more across them than between them. They wore the same mind-blown grins as he did. Dean's a little more smug, as he swigged off his brew. Same old Dean. Sarah's a little softer, filled with something like wonder. It'd been four months, but none of them had gotten used to it yet, especially not him, and the relaxed curve of his mouth still felt out of place on his face.
Going back for Sarah after Dad took off again, it'd been one of the best things he and Dean had ever done. Guilt tightened his smile, made his eyes and jaw ache with the press of memory. It still felt disloyal to Jess, but she was gone. And when he really dug deep, he knew she'd never have been okay with this. Not any of it.
Sarah, she'd clicked right in, easing the tension between him and Dean - not ending it, because it'd take the Apocalypse to do that, and with everything they'd fought together, he wasn't sure even that would stop them being at each other like Alpha silverbacks fighting for control of a pack. Still, Sarah made it easier; taking care of her meant they didn't clash as much about which one of them protected the other. And, she'd accepted him and Dean as easy as she had haunted paintings and hunting what went bump in the night.
That they weren't werewolves made the whole thing seriously fucked up, but they both liked Sarah, and Dean didn't look lost when he saw them together, which made everything okay. Or as near to okay as living in stolen moments between hunts could ever be.
While Sam thought lazy post-sex thoughts, Sarah finished their beer, then held her hand out imperiously for Dean's. "Oh, Sarah, you really don't want to-"
Dean put the beer in Sarah's hand and flashed Sam that trademarked Dean "now don't you look like an asshole?" smirk. "What the lady wants, the lady gets."
Then it was Sarah's turn to be smug, one dark eyebrow raised, head cocked; he hadn't quite figured out what that expression meant, but there was a hint of a challenge in it, which he liked. Sly seemed incongruous with her still-perfect skin and two loose little girl braids, but that was Sarah for you. Soft but surprisingly strong, brash but also warm, and the world, including Dean, repaid that in kind. Sam and Dean made sure it did.
And in return, she did things for them. Making sure Dean had M&Ms and Colgate regular flavor like they'd had when they were kids, and Sam had Lucky Charms and Irish Spring because Jess had liked it. Buying the big bottle of her Pantene conditioner so Dean didn't call him a girl about his hair, and of extra moisturizing Vaseline Intensive Care lotion so he didn't call Dean one.
Or things like getting up to get more beer, when their asses were too lazy or glowy or sore to do it for themselves. Like now.
After handing Dean one bottle and him two, she crawled back onto the bed between them. He held out the beer, which she took with a kissy-face. Dean might be smoother than he was, or think so anyway, but not even Sam could miss an invitation that obvious. Leaning over, he pursed his lips and pressed them to hers, like two duckbills. Dean rolled his eyes, but Sarah laughed, and that made feeling incredibly stupid worth it.
"So." She looked from him to Dean, eyes wide and oh-so-innocent, but Sam didn't buy it, not one bit. "How did it happen, you two being together?"
Dean grinned, stretching back to cross his arms behind his head. Mostly to show off for Sarah, and him. It worked; they were both looking. "You tell her, Sammy."
When she pivoted at the waist, braids swinging out, the exaggerated curiosity in her raised eyebrows and 'o' shaped mouth had him hiding a smile with a duck of his head. "Well, it's kind of a long story…"
Pouting, Sarah punched him in the arm.
He huffed out a soft laugh. "Okay, all right."
It hadn't been anything big. Just one of those him and Dean things, but he could tell from the way Dean arched his eyebrow at him over the tipped back bottle. Dean was in the mood to bullshit.
Sam met his gaze and lowered his lashes once, a nod -- the one they used to say "I'm ready" when talking would get them killed. It was on.
No one lied like Dean. That is, no one except Sam. He had been planning to be a lawyer, after all. So Sam rested his Fernie against his thigh and wound up to tell Sarah an outrageous tale…knowing Dean would try to top him.
1. Bored, as told by Sam
"We were out in Beverly Hills, staying at the Beverly Hilton…what?" Right away, Sarah's eyebrows went up, but he pointed his beer at her. "I didn't say we paid for it."
She gave a Dean-worthy eye roll at that, but waved her hand, gesturing for him to continue.
"Big Halloween bash, and someone knew someone who knew someone who knew Dad. It was an Ognissanti moon, you know what that is, right? It's when there's a full moon on All Soul's Day, or Halloween. Anyhow, the veil between our world and the other world gets very thin on full moons, but especially when they coincide with major pagan festivals, since so many of them were sympathetic magic designed to pierce the veil in the first place."
Over Sarah's head, Dean gave him the "and this is the best you can do?" face, but Sam didn't let it throw him off stride.
"The hotel manager's grandmother called him to warn him off hosting the studio party. He offered us three grand to hang around the hotel for the weekend in case the hired occultists raised something real. Dad had a job, but a gig, for cash, plus an all-expenses paid weekend of lying around in our boxers? Dean was on it like-"
"Like I'm on Sammy's ass." Dean flashed Sarah a cocky grin.
"Whatever, man. Anyhow, we're in this swank room, not the penthouse but still, it was a sweet set-up. Dean made it through the minibar in the first half an hour, because he wouldn't drink anything but tequila and the Miller. I, of course, being the more cultured of the two of us-"
A pillow smacked him in the chest.
"Ow, Dean, that hurt. I'm still healing." Putting on his best wounded face, Sam tilted his head down to look at the Sasquatch claw marks across his ribs. The innocent Griz of Fernie legend hadn't been anything like innocent, and his bigger cousins actually did eat babies.
Sarah awwwwwed, but Dean drew his eyebrows together. "Shut up, pussy. I didn't hear you complaining an hour ago."
"See what I mean? Resorting to profanity. Tsk." Sam shook his head sadly. "So, we ordered up a couple of six packs for Tim the Toolman Taylor over there, drank those, watched all the movies, drank more beer, watched the porn, and the next thing I knew, Dean had his hand in his boxers.
"So I said to him, 'Do you mind?'
"And he said, "What, Sammy, you want me to jack off in the bathtub? You'd still know.'
"I gave him the look, and said, 'Yeah, but then I wouldn't have to watch. Jeez, Dean.'
"So he waggled his eyebrows and said, 'You don't have to just watch.'
"I got kinda tense."
"Kinda?" Dean smirked. "If you call scrabbling backwards across the bed so fast you wasted a perfectly good Miller 'kinda tense', then okay."
It felt good, working together, even for something this ridiculous. So when he glowered at Dean this time, there was a hint of a smile under it and Dean definitely caught it. "I only spilled a few drops. He surprised me," he appealed to Sarah.
"Uh-huh. The story, Sam."
Damn, she even looked like a schoolteacher when she took that tone.
"All right, all right." His palms went up in surrender. "So, I said, 'Dean, be serious.' Then he said, 'I am being serious, Sammy, we could fuck. It's not like we don't live in each other's asses anyway.' He had a point, and I was horny as all hell from the damned porn, so I shrugged, said, 'Okay,' and we did."
Sarah laughed, and Dean shook his head. "Anyone ever tell you, you talk too much, Sammy? You had her until you started embellishing with the porn."
Sam chucked the pillow at him, which Dean neatly ducked.
Sitting up against the fake elk antler headboard, Dean wrapped an arm around Sarah, pulled her back against his chest, then took a long drink. "All right, kiddies, get comfortable. I'm gonna tell you how it really happened." He gave Sam that 'watch and learn, Grasshopper' grin, and…
2. Accidentally, as told by Dean
"Ya see, Sarah, Sammy here has a little problem with nocturnal emissions." Obviously mocking Sam, Dean took a didactic tone: "Those are wet dreams, in case you didn't know."
Sam reached around Sarah to smack Dean in the shoulder. "That's rich coming from the guy who wakes up with his hand on his dick six days out of seven." It'd be seven out of seven, but occasionally Sam woke him with a blowjob so he wouldn't bitch all day.
"Hey, who's telling this story? That's right, I am. Now shut up, Sir Comes-a-Lot."
Sarah laughed so hard she had to cover her mouth to keep the beer from spraying. Sam didn't think it was particularly funny. So what if he came more like a Dixie cupful than a tablespoonful?
"Anyhow, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted…" Dean gave Sam the 'shut it' look. "Sammy, here, has a tendency to get hard in his sleep."
Grinning, Sarah wiped her mouth with her hand. "Hadn't noticed that."
That did it. Sam blushed.
"Awww, isn't that cute? Look at you blushing. Makes me want to pinch your cheeks. Or retch. Now quit that, I'm trying to tell a story here."
Dean took a swig off his beer, while the fingers of his other hand traced the upper curve of Sarah's breast. Her warm dark eyes and Dean's intense green both fixed on him, which made his blush fade. That was probably perverse, but he knew the weight of Dean's gaze. It felt familiar, comforting.
"We're out in BFE Florida -- what was that place called, Sammy? The one with the orb lights and the kids on the stairs."
"Cassadaga, near Daytona," Sam supplied automatically.
Dean snapped his fingers. "That's right, Cassadaga. Cute Cuban waitress in the coffeeshop there-" Sarah glared at him over her shoulder. "But not my type at all.
"After an uneventful search of the premises, no ghosts in sight, we go to bed. A few hours later, I wake up and Sammy's monster cock is digging at my ass, and I'm thinking to myself, Hell No. This ain't happening this way. But Junior also has a very short fuse. So before I can do anything about it, he's splashing hot jizz all over my back. Ruined my favorite boxers--"
"Now, would those be Donald Duck or Dora the Explorer?" Over a long swallow of beer, Sam arched a mocking eyebrow. "I can't remember."
Snickering, Sarah pressed her hand to her mouth to cover the accompanying hiccough.
Dean just pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Lame, Sammy. They were stripes, which you should know, because you slept with them for a security blanket for months afterwards. Anyway, Sarah, he's got his mammoth paw wrapped around my dick, which, I gotta tell you, to my way of thinking is a lot more like it. So he starts pumping, I'm going with it, and then, all the sudden-"
Sarah smacked her hand down on the bed. "BAM!"
He looked at Dean, and then at Sarah. "Bam?" he and Dean asked together.
"Yeah." The bottom end of her beer swang out. "You know, BAM! Someone slammed a window, shot something, whatever. You got interrupted."
"No, nothing interrupted us. This is a sex story, not a ghost story."
Elbowing Dean in the ribs, Sarah squirmed away with a muttered "patronizing jerk" and Sam thought about reminding him that it had actually been both. And that the massacred Native American kids had spooked Dean more than almost anything they'd hunted with their sad dark eyes and ritual chants. But then Sarah splayed herself ostentatiously against him and he just smirked instead.
As though it'd been his intention all along, but entirely too casually for that to be true, Dean propped his head on his hand.
"All the sudden…" Sarah prompted, and Dean rewarded her with an approving smile; Sam's chest tightened a little.
"Suddenly, Sammy freezes. Dead stop, and I'm just getting going, but Junior's got a conscience and I know it. So me, the model of brotherly concern, I say, 'Sammy?' and Sam starts blubbering, 'Oh my god, Dean, I'm so sorry. I didn't… God, I'm so sorry.'"
"Don't listen to him, Sarah. I did not cry." Actually, he had, the first time he'd gone off in his sleep. He'd thought the come was ectoplasm. Dad had been great with rock salt and firearms, but normal growing up stuff? Forget it. Dean got stuck with giving Sam 'the talk', just like he'd gotten stuck soothing Sam's tears that night, and helping him clean up.
"He totally did. He cried like the sad little girl that he is. But I wasn't having any of that, because he's my little brother and I'd do anything for him."
Dean lifted his chin toward Sam, then tilted his head in acknowledgment, and Sam could tell from the long pause that Dean was remembering -- how he'd strung Sam along the night that inspired this story, telling him about a ghost who sucked the life out of boys through their dicks, and how when Sam had gotten all worked up, he'd felt so bad he'd apologized for an hour, then taken Sam to the diner at the corner for hot fudge sundaes.
It was almost a minute before Dean spoke again, and when he did his voice was softer. "So I wipe his tears and say, 'Shut up, Sam. Shut up, and roll over. We're gonna do that again, only we're doing it right this time.'"
Like most good lies, it was highly plausible, except the crying part, and it took Sarah almost thirty seconds to toe Dean in the thigh.
"Hey, watch it, I'm still--"
"Pussy." This time it was Sarah talking to Dean, and Sam buried his face in her shoulder, stifling a laugh. "C'mon, Sam, how did it really happen?
3. Possessed, as told by Sam
There'd been an article in the paper that morning that gave him the idea, and by that point, they'd had enough beer that the story came flowing out almost without thought.
"We were driving through Ohio, on our way to check out a haunted horse barn in Kentucky. The morning paper had a front page story about a series of frat party date-rapes at Ohio State. I would've passed it up, but it 'felt' funny. Too many in too short a period. If it were hazing they'd have covered it up. If it were roofies the cops would've busted them, and if the girls were lying, someone would've broke. So we went to check it out."
"Damned good thing we did." Dean tipped his head all the way back to drain his Fernie, then got up to get another. "Those girls were scared. Damned generous with the you-saved-my-life nookie, too."
"You are so crass." Sam swirled the remains of his beer in the bottle. "Bring me one?"
"Low, Dean. Not even you would hit on girls who'd just survived rape scares." Sarah got bossy when she drank. It was a good look for her, Sam decided. "Continue, Sam."
"As the lady wishes." Tucking her braid behind her shoulder, he bit back a grin. "We get to Columbus, do our usual checking around. 'Anyone seen anything weird?', look into the local urban legends, you know. Only there's nothing and no one's talking. But then this one girl, one of the victims, comes to find-
"Me." The mattress dipped as Dean got back into bed. He passed out the beers, then tugged the blanket up over all their legs, looking out for them, like always. "She came to talk to me, because Sammy's chick-fu is weak except when it comes to Jess and you."
He must not have hidden the wince as well as he'd thought, because Dean set his hand on Sam's arm. "Hey, man, sorry. Shouldn't have mentioned Jess."
Sam shook his head. "Did you just apologize? Man, you're drunk." Jess was gone, and not talking about her dishonored her memory. He wouldn't do that, no matter how much it hurt. So he gave Sarah a little half smile. "He's right, you know, my chick-fu really is weak."
"You're telling me. I practically had to beg you to take me out." Though she teased, her voice held a kindness, and that helped. From the beginning, she'd had a way of making him comfortable, like ordering beer to save him from deciding on wine, and she'd gotten better at it over time.
"I practically had to plant my foot up his ass."
"Moving right along…" Sam mock-glared at Dean. "Yes, the girl came to talk to Dean, because he's a smooth bastard. And, after a little prompting, she tells us the guy's eyes turned glowing red when he penetrated her, but she hadn't told the police because she hadn't been drugged or drunk and she didn't want them to think she was crazy. So, Dean pats her hand and walks her back to her dorm room."
"Nice guy that he is-"
"Nice guy that I am. Wait, I'm a nice guy? When did that happen?"
"When you shared your beer with me. Shut up, Dean." Her tone wasn't as soft with Dean as it was with him, but she rubbed the top of Dean's thigh affectionately.
"Right, so, from the red eyes, we figure out we're dealing with a demon, probably one of the lower orders. As luck would have it, there's a frat party that night. We show up, loaded down with salt, crosses, holy water, the usual demon-kit.
"We haven't been there half an hour when we see this guy getting a lot too friendly with a this tiny Asian girl who looks like she can't decide whether to sink into the floor or run like hell. Dean interrupts, looking for her best friend, Amy Joy, and I hit him with the 'Christo' and the holy water. The demon leapt from assface to Dean, and…"
He cracked open his fresh one, took a sip, then said matter-of-factly, "While I was trying to perform the exorcism, he tied me up and sucked my cock."
"That's not how I remember it, Sammy. I distinctly remember me fucking your ass. And you were so pretty, begging for it -- all exposed with your arms bound above your head and your smart mouth stretched around the gag." Dean winked at Sarah. "We ought to do that again some time."
Since they'd started up with Sarah, Dean had gotten a lot more comfortable about the two of them together, but not bondage-comfortable. And definitely not tying him up, he hoped, or else they'd be having a different sort of sex conversation. One that involved Dean, facedown on the mattress.
Sam cleared his throat. "Dean. Possessed. Sucking my cock. I know you were sucking me off, Dean, since I convinced you to untie me because you wouldn't be able to fuck me if you didn't." To Sarah, he said, "Of course, he listened and when he did? Bingo, exorcism."
"Afterwards, I reamed his ass."
"You did not. We cast the demon back to Hell and -
"And comfort nookie. With you."
Growling, Sam hid his face in his hand. Sarah inhaled deeply, which did great things for her breasts, then pointed her bottle at his brother. "Your turn, Dean."
4. Drunk, as told by Dean
"It was little Sammy's eighteenth birthday." Sam could always tell how drunk Dean was getting by how often he called him Sammy, and the gentleness that crept into his tone when he did.
When Dean was drunk was about the only time Sam didn't mind him calling him Sammy, and he didn't correct him now.
"Dad was gone on a hunt, but before he left, he gave me some cash and said, "Take your brother out. Take care of him.'"
"And you always do what Dad says."
"Yes, Sam, I do."
For a minute, Dean's gaze went hard and Sam could've kicked himself for saying it. He hadn't meant to start anything.
"No, Dean, you don't. You saved our lives, mine and Dad's, because you didn't listen about the Colt." Thank you. But he didn't say that, either.
Sarah watched, dark eyes weighing, and Sam held his breath, but when Dean said, "Yeah," that was the end of it. In his Dean way, the one Sam sometimes hated but was grateful for right now, he brushed it off like nothing had happened and got on with his story.
"So, anyway, I took Sammy down to this topless bar. Getting in was no problem, since part of Sammy's birthday present was a fake ID. Dad and I figured if he could unload a sawed-off into a Maledetti, he could have a few beers.
"But lightweight over there, he got drunk, and I'm not talking pretty, mellow drunk like now. I'm talking slobbering, can't stand up, pawing one of the girl's tits-excuse me, breasts-drunk."
Sam felt like they'd completely switched brains, when he said, "C'mon, man, she loved it."
It was worth it to see Dean smirk before he sipped his beer. "Whatever, dude, I totally saved your ass." Then Dean's smug-look broke into a grin. "You should've heard him, whining about being horny. God, what a pussy."
Sarah's warm laughter chased away the last shadows of their almost-fight, and he could've kissed her. In fact, he would kiss her, and so what if leaning over her shoulder wasn't the best angle for kissing? She didn't seem to mind.
"I get his sorry ass back to the room, and he's trying to jack off but you know he's totally uncoordinated when he's drunk." Dean kept talking like he didn't notice them, and they stopped. "I'm watching him for a minute, trying not to laugh, when I finally took pity on him and said, 'Jesus, Sam. Here, let me.' Then I sucked him off."
"And then you plowed his ass." Still stroking her lip from the little bite he'd given her, Sarah rolled her eyes. "Why do all of your stories have you fucking him? I swear I've seen that like twice in all these months. I think this is wish-fulfillment time for Dean. Sam?"
5. Breaking Through, as told by Sam
"All right, I'll tell you," he said around a mouthful of lukewarm brew. "But I'm warning you, it's going to ruin your image of Dean forever."
Reaching over, Dean pinched his bruised nipple.
His beer splashed over his fingers. "Hey!"
"C'mon, Sammy, do your worst."
Oh, he would.
"About three years ago, Dean came to visit me at Stanford. We'd been out drinking, and my roommate went to visit his girlfriend so Dean could have his bed. We got ready to sleep, and Dean got in bed. Then he rolled over, and was just lying there watching me. We'd been kissing and jerking off together for years, and he had that look. So, I asked him what was up, and he kinda blew me off.
"I was in no mood for Dean to get all bitchy on me, so I went over to his bed and straddled his hips."
Across the mattress from him, Dean's eyes darkened. They'd be fucking again when he'd finished this story, no doubt, because Sarah saw it, too. She moved away from him to snuggle up to Dean and stroke his chest.
His brother wrapped his arm around Sarah. The twinge in his gut wasn't jealousy -- not really. He could share Dean with Sarah. He just hadn't gotten used to it yet.
Sam set his empty on the nightstand, then lay down behind Sarah, half-hard cock pressing into her ass. She looked back over her shoulder, dark eyes heavy-lidded and fringed with coal black lashes. Jealousy faded, and, hand curving around her thigh, he started talking again, voice lower and softer.
"He pushed me hard in the chest, protesting, 'Quit it, Sam, come on, that's not funny.' I wasn't being funny. I'd gotten pretty sick of the whining and the 'we shouldn't do this', and I wanted to fuck him, or him to fuck me, or anything but the sulky bullshit he'd been pulling, so I just stayed there, waiting, breathing into his mouth and watching his eyes."
Dean's breathing grew shallower, Sarah's too, and Sam loved the power of it. He caught Sarah's hand and wrapped it around Dean's dick. "Nice and slow, Sarah," he whispered across her throat, and she murmured her consent.
"Jesus, Sam."
God, Dean. He wouldn't be able to maintain this for long but for now he kept talking, letting them both hear the desire in his voice. "Dean turned his head away, wouldn't look at me, and something snapped. I remember saying, 'Want you, Dean, I want you and I'm tired of waiting for you to get over it. You're going to give it up to me, aren't you? You're not going to make me rub off against your stomach, are you?'"
In Sarah's hand, Dean leaked and twitched, body arching off the bed. "Fuck," he whispered. "No."
"That's right, Dean, that's what you said. 'No.' You remember what happened after that, don't you, Dean?"
Dean locked their gazes together, and the sheer need made Sam ache. When Dean spoke, his voice was raw, husky: "You said, 'Good. I'm going to fuck you now, Dean.'"
Like Dean, he'd gotten over feeling guilty about what they did together, but the way Dean looked at him, like salvation, damnation, and perfection all rolled into one…sometimes it made Sam awkward, being everything to Dean like that. But when Dean needed him like he did now, Sam wouldn't refuse him.
Still, he wasn't above messing with him first. "And I did fuck you. I opened you around my fingers, stretching you until you begged for me to take you, and I did, slow and hard."
Moaning, Sarah rocked her hips back against him. When Sam bit down on Sarah's throat, sucking the blood to the surface the way he'd done with the Dean the first time they fucked, Dean watched, panting through parted lips, and Sam knew he remembered.
He backed off, kissing her shoulder. "The whole time, Dean kept moaning, 'I love you, Sammy, I love you so much.' And after we got through, he cried like a little girl."
Sarah started it, laughing so hard he thought he'd come from her ass rubbing on his cock. Dean glared his snake glare, but he broke, too, and whenever Dean laughed like that, Sam couldn't help but laugh either.
"Dude," Dean gasped, holding his sides. "You better watch your cereal for spiders, Sammy. That was cruel."
"To be fair, Dean, you did tell him to do his worst."
"Thank you."
Dean glowered, then groused. "Yeah, but I figured he'd make up some shit with hearts and flowers and sparkly rainbows."
That made her laugh again, and Sam leaned over to palm Dean's dick. "I'll make it up to you, tiger."
"You better."
Turning onto her back to look up at him, Sarah grinned, eyes flashing. "Okay, one of you two overgrown toddlers tell me how it really happened, so we can fuck."
Sam tugged on her braid. "How do you think it happened?"
Her mouth twisted, and her gaze drifted off over his shoulder, the way it always did when she was trying to figure something out. After a minute, she smiled, pretty and soft. "You almost died, and instead of Dean saying he was glad you didn't, like any normal human, he got pissed and shoved you around, then sucked you off."
He and Dean shared a smile across her body. "Other way around."