Equal Opportunity (Supernatural, Dean/everything)
Title: Equal Opportunity
Author: cleflink
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Warnings: Should one warn for xeno when it's the point of the fic? Glossed sexual situations. Also, crack.
Word count: 1800
Prompt: xeno-kink, five things Dean has screwed that weren’t human.
Summary: Dean does Hollywood the supernatural world. Sam is unenthused.
Dean was kind of a slut. It was one of things that Sam was more or less accustomed to - he'd had a long time to get used to it, after all - and, for the most part, it didn't really bother him. Well, except for the fact that he was more than a little sick of walking into all manner of inappropriate situations because his brother couldn't keep it in his goddamn pants. But as long as Dean didn't get arrested or give himself the clap, Sam had figured it could have been worse.
Of course, that was before the entire supernatural world had apparently decided to promote his brother to the status of town bicycle while Sam wasn't looking, to the extent that he was almost tempted to start himself a bingo card just to see how long it took Dean to rack up conquests in all the major categories.
And when it was Dean he was talking about? Those categories really did cover pretty much everything.
Animal
Sam's first thought when something long and dark dropped out of the darkness right on top of his brother was, Dean!
His second thought was, wow, that's a really big snake.
His third thought was, oh god damn. Not again.
"Sam?" Dean called, his tone remarkably level considering that there was a least two dozen feet of really big snake wrapped around him. "I think we found the naga."
"Just stay calm, Dean," Sam said, mostly on autopilot. "I'll get you down in just a -"
Sam's voice died in his throat as the naga reached out with surprisingly human hands to cup Dean's face, chirring low and contented in its throat. One mottled thumb swept across Dean's cheek in a glide of glass green scales that was nearly the same colour as Dean's wide eyes.
"Well," Dean managed, as a slick, forked tongue darted out to lick at his neck. "This is unexpectedly kinky. You got any bright ideas, geek bo-oi-oh my fucking god."
"Dean?" Sam demanded, as Dean's entire body jerked within the confines of heavy coils.
"Ju-just fine Sammy," Dean promised, eyes going heavy lidded in a way that Sam really didn't want to think about. "Wasn't expecting that, is all. How about you go find that damn statue and I'll - oh Christ, that feels weird - I'll keep Sir Hiss here busy."
Sam hesitated, torn, then jumped as the rough susurrus of tearing denim ripped shocking and loud through the air.
"Oh motherfucker," Dean said, rather breathlessly. "These are my favourite jeans." He flicked an entirely ineffectual glare at Sam. "Stop worrying about my maidenly virtue and get the fuck gone already!"
The naga wound itself tighter, hands sliding away from Dean's face to tear at his shirt, and Sam decided that was his cue to go.
"And bring me a change of clothes while you're at it!" Dean's voice cracked on the last word and Sam sped up. The things he did for his brother.
Mineral
"It's a what?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "A golem," he said, for what felt like the hundredth time. The fact that he knew Dean only did it to piss him off actually only made it more irritating.
"Huh." Dean squinted up at the blank face of the nine foot man-shaped hunk of rock looming in front of them. "Doesn't really do much."
It was a near thing, but Sam resisted the urge to strangle his idiot brother. "That's because you're holding the talisman, Dean," he said, also for the hundredth time. He flicked impatient fingers at the glass-smooth stone Dean was idly rolling across his palm. "Until you let go of it, the golem will only do what you tell it to." Which is why that warlock hasn't used it to pound us into paste yet, he added silently to himself, grateful for once for Dean's quick hands and lax morals.
"Dude, it's like having the Thing as a bodyguard." Dean grinned at Sam like he was five years old. "Hey Sammy, what can I make it do?"
Sam sighed. "Whatever you want, Dean."
Dean's grin went immediately wicked and Sam wished he hadn't said anything. No thought that put that look on Dean's face was likely to be good for Sam's sanity.
Sure enough, the very next words out of Dean's mouth were, "So if I asked it to suck me off, d'you think it would..."
The golem came to life with a shuddering jerk, sinking to its knees and lower as its massive hands reached for the waist of Dean's jeans. Sam was out the door and halfway down the hall before Dean's first bitten-off groan reached him, suddenly eager for something to kill. Dean could catch up later.
Vegetable
When Sam dashed into the clearing with his bowie knife at the ready and fire in his veins, the last thing he expected to find was Dean slumped lazily against a tree a few feet away; alive, grinning and an absolute fucking mess of sweat and dirt and twigs and sap and spit.
And also naked. He definitely hadn't expected to find Dean naked.
"Sam-my!" Dean crowed, cheerful in a way that Sam hadn't seen since they'd been at that bar in Ohio that did one dollar shots on Tuesdays. "What's up?"
Sam lowered the knife and approached warily, waiting for the punch line. Dean just kept grinning at him, apparently completely at ease with being bare-assed and defenseless in the middle of the forest, and Sam snapped. "What the hell, Dean? You've been missing for nearly two days!"
Dean shrugged off his concern with characteristic nonchalance. "Yeah, yeah. Should've invited you t'come, I guess, but knowing your sorry ass, you probably wouldn't have enjoyed it anyway."
"You - I thought you were in trouble, you jackass! Why didn't you tell me where you were going?" Sam's voice was rising into registers he hadn't been all that thrilled to have in puberty. He forced it down with an angry snarl. "I was this close to burning the whole damn forest down to find you!"
The trees rustled overhead, sudden and oppressive. Dean's smile dropped immediately.
"Watch it Sam, for fuck's sake!" he hissed. "You trying to piss 'em off?"
Christ, it was like playing twenty questions with a half-wit. "Dean. What are you talking about?"
A giggle like the chime of bells drifted through the clearing and Sam nearly fell flat on his face he whirled around so fast.
"Geez, dude, chill out." Dean was wearing his unimpressed big brother face. "Why are you always such a spazz?" Sam made a supremely unamused face back and Dean rolled his eyes. "They're dryads, genius."
"Dry- like in Greek mythology?"
"Give the man a prize." Dean shifted slightly, wincing as a shower of tree bark came with his arm when he tried to pull it loose. "Okay, that's kinda gross."
Sam ignored him, slotting that information into what they already knew. "Huh. That actually makes sense. What do they want?"
The sudden mayhem in the arch of Dean's eyebrow made Sam wish he'd never asked. "Oh no. No, I didn't need to know that."
"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it. I mean, I've never really been into that whole bondage scene, but some of the things those ladies can do with vines? Damn." Dean considered for a moment. "Could do without the splinters, but a little pain with his pleasure never hurt anyone before, right?"
Sam resisted the entirely juvenile urge to put his hands over his ears. "Oversharing, Dean. Really oversharing."
Dean grinned at him. "Naw, you're just a prude."
Dead
"Hey there," a voice purred, sounding like nails on a chalkboard. Sam grit his teeth and kept walking.
"Hey yourself," Dean answered, in his smarmiest pick-up voice. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
"Not as much as I'd like to be." The voice had probably been pretty once. Sam didn't turn around to find out whether the girl using it was in the same boat. "You wanna help me with that?"
"Well now -" Dean's voice cut off abruptly and Sam wheeled round to find the ghost plastered against Dean's front, doing her level best to suck Dean's brain out through his mouth. Probably literally.
Sam's shotgun scattered salt across the walls in a wide arc and the ghost vanished with a frustrated howl.
"Geez man." Dean made a face at him. "Watch where you're aiming that thing."
"Well maybe if you were actually shooting the ghosts instead of trying to get to third base with them, I wouldn't have to, Dean."
"Hey, I can't help it if I'm irresistible." Dean's grin went sly, the blue tint to his lips and the hoarfrost on his nose paying mute evidence to just how many of the ghosts in this place actually agreed with him. Or at least thought he looked like he'd tip well. "Y'know, if you weren't so busy being such a pussy, you could probably get some too."
Sam rolled his eyes heavenward. "Why do I bother?"
Another giggling ghost drifted up, skimpy underwear revealing both an ample amount of skin and a gaping hole in her chest. "Come here, handsome," she cooed at Dean. "I got something for ya."
Sam was never taking Dean into a haunted brothel again. Fucking ever.
Divine
They'd been on the road for four hours and Dean was. Still. Grinning.
"Hey Sam," he said, right on cue. Sam was starting to find the idea of hitch hiking disturbingly appealing. "D'you think I qualify as a saint if..."
"Dean I swear to god, if you make one more joke about being 'touched by an angel' I'm going to throw you under a bus."
-----
Dean breezed into the motel room with two cups of coffee and a decidedly smug grin. "Still hard at work there, Sammy? Makes you a dull fucker, you know."
"Whatever Dean." Sam saved the square where he'd crossed off 'succubus' and tabbed into a browser window before Dean could lean over and see what he was working on. "Find anything out from the teacher?"
"Yeah actually." Dean passed over the cup labeled 'Pansy' before slumping down on the closest bed. "And since I'm awesome, I also went to the library and matched up the death records. We've got this fucker."
Sam took a cautious sip of his drink, relaxing once his tongue confirmed that there wasn't any cayenne pepper in it this time. "And?"
Dean's leer was wide and immediate. "Dude, we're going after a bona fide fertility god. How cool is that?"
Sam resisted the urge to groan aloud. He was going to need to start a new bingo card. Again.
~owari
(Poor Sam).
Author: cleflink
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Warnings: Should one warn for xeno when it's the point of the fic? Glossed sexual situations. Also, crack.
Word count: 1800
Prompt: xeno-kink, five things Dean has screwed that weren’t human.
Summary: Dean does Hollywood the supernatural world. Sam is unenthused.
Dean was kind of a slut. It was one of things that Sam was more or less accustomed to - he'd had a long time to get used to it, after all - and, for the most part, it didn't really bother him. Well, except for the fact that he was more than a little sick of walking into all manner of inappropriate situations because his brother couldn't keep it in his goddamn pants. But as long as Dean didn't get arrested or give himself the clap, Sam had figured it could have been worse.
Of course, that was before the entire supernatural world had apparently decided to promote his brother to the status of town bicycle while Sam wasn't looking, to the extent that he was almost tempted to start himself a bingo card just to see how long it took Dean to rack up conquests in all the major categories.
And when it was Dean he was talking about? Those categories really did cover pretty much everything.
Animal
Sam's first thought when something long and dark dropped out of the darkness right on top of his brother was, Dean!
His second thought was, wow, that's a really big snake.
His third thought was, oh god damn. Not again.
"Sam?" Dean called, his tone remarkably level considering that there was a least two dozen feet of really big snake wrapped around him. "I think we found the naga."
"Just stay calm, Dean," Sam said, mostly on autopilot. "I'll get you down in just a -"
Sam's voice died in his throat as the naga reached out with surprisingly human hands to cup Dean's face, chirring low and contented in its throat. One mottled thumb swept across Dean's cheek in a glide of glass green scales that was nearly the same colour as Dean's wide eyes.
"Well," Dean managed, as a slick, forked tongue darted out to lick at his neck. "This is unexpectedly kinky. You got any bright ideas, geek bo-oi-oh my fucking god."
"Dean?" Sam demanded, as Dean's entire body jerked within the confines of heavy coils.
"Ju-just fine Sammy," Dean promised, eyes going heavy lidded in a way that Sam really didn't want to think about. "Wasn't expecting that, is all. How about you go find that damn statue and I'll - oh Christ, that feels weird - I'll keep Sir Hiss here busy."
Sam hesitated, torn, then jumped as the rough susurrus of tearing denim ripped shocking and loud through the air.
"Oh motherfucker," Dean said, rather breathlessly. "These are my favourite jeans." He flicked an entirely ineffectual glare at Sam. "Stop worrying about my maidenly virtue and get the fuck gone already!"
The naga wound itself tighter, hands sliding away from Dean's face to tear at his shirt, and Sam decided that was his cue to go.
"And bring me a change of clothes while you're at it!" Dean's voice cracked on the last word and Sam sped up. The things he did for his brother.
Mineral
"It's a what?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "A golem," he said, for what felt like the hundredth time. The fact that he knew Dean only did it to piss him off actually only made it more irritating.
"Huh." Dean squinted up at the blank face of the nine foot man-shaped hunk of rock looming in front of them. "Doesn't really do much."
It was a near thing, but Sam resisted the urge to strangle his idiot brother. "That's because you're holding the talisman, Dean," he said, also for the hundredth time. He flicked impatient fingers at the glass-smooth stone Dean was idly rolling across his palm. "Until you let go of it, the golem will only do what you tell it to." Which is why that warlock hasn't used it to pound us into paste yet, he added silently to himself, grateful for once for Dean's quick hands and lax morals.
"Dude, it's like having the Thing as a bodyguard." Dean grinned at Sam like he was five years old. "Hey Sammy, what can I make it do?"
Sam sighed. "Whatever you want, Dean."
Dean's grin went immediately wicked and Sam wished he hadn't said anything. No thought that put that look on Dean's face was likely to be good for Sam's sanity.
Sure enough, the very next words out of Dean's mouth were, "So if I asked it to suck me off, d'you think it would..."
The golem came to life with a shuddering jerk, sinking to its knees and lower as its massive hands reached for the waist of Dean's jeans. Sam was out the door and halfway down the hall before Dean's first bitten-off groan reached him, suddenly eager for something to kill. Dean could catch up later.
Vegetable
When Sam dashed into the clearing with his bowie knife at the ready and fire in his veins, the last thing he expected to find was Dean slumped lazily against a tree a few feet away; alive, grinning and an absolute fucking mess of sweat and dirt and twigs and sap and spit.
And also naked. He definitely hadn't expected to find Dean naked.
"Sam-my!" Dean crowed, cheerful in a way that Sam hadn't seen since they'd been at that bar in Ohio that did one dollar shots on Tuesdays. "What's up?"
Sam lowered the knife and approached warily, waiting for the punch line. Dean just kept grinning at him, apparently completely at ease with being bare-assed and defenseless in the middle of the forest, and Sam snapped. "What the hell, Dean? You've been missing for nearly two days!"
Dean shrugged off his concern with characteristic nonchalance. "Yeah, yeah. Should've invited you t'come, I guess, but knowing your sorry ass, you probably wouldn't have enjoyed it anyway."
"You - I thought you were in trouble, you jackass! Why didn't you tell me where you were going?" Sam's voice was rising into registers he hadn't been all that thrilled to have in puberty. He forced it down with an angry snarl. "I was this close to burning the whole damn forest down to find you!"
The trees rustled overhead, sudden and oppressive. Dean's smile dropped immediately.
"Watch it Sam, for fuck's sake!" he hissed. "You trying to piss 'em off?"
Christ, it was like playing twenty questions with a half-wit. "Dean. What are you talking about?"
A giggle like the chime of bells drifted through the clearing and Sam nearly fell flat on his face he whirled around so fast.
"Geez, dude, chill out." Dean was wearing his unimpressed big brother face. "Why are you always such a spazz?" Sam made a supremely unamused face back and Dean rolled his eyes. "They're dryads, genius."
"Dry- like in Greek mythology?"
"Give the man a prize." Dean shifted slightly, wincing as a shower of tree bark came with his arm when he tried to pull it loose. "Okay, that's kinda gross."
Sam ignored him, slotting that information into what they already knew. "Huh. That actually makes sense. What do they want?"
The sudden mayhem in the arch of Dean's eyebrow made Sam wish he'd never asked. "Oh no. No, I didn't need to know that."
"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it. I mean, I've never really been into that whole bondage scene, but some of the things those ladies can do with vines? Damn." Dean considered for a moment. "Could do without the splinters, but a little pain with his pleasure never hurt anyone before, right?"
Sam resisted the entirely juvenile urge to put his hands over his ears. "Oversharing, Dean. Really oversharing."
Dean grinned at him. "Naw, you're just a prude."
Dead
"Hey there," a voice purred, sounding like nails on a chalkboard. Sam grit his teeth and kept walking.
"Hey yourself," Dean answered, in his smarmiest pick-up voice. "What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
"Not as much as I'd like to be." The voice had probably been pretty once. Sam didn't turn around to find out whether the girl using it was in the same boat. "You wanna help me with that?"
"Well now -" Dean's voice cut off abruptly and Sam wheeled round to find the ghost plastered against Dean's front, doing her level best to suck Dean's brain out through his mouth. Probably literally.
Sam's shotgun scattered salt across the walls in a wide arc and the ghost vanished with a frustrated howl.
"Geez man." Dean made a face at him. "Watch where you're aiming that thing."
"Well maybe if you were actually shooting the ghosts instead of trying to get to third base with them, I wouldn't have to, Dean."
"Hey, I can't help it if I'm irresistible." Dean's grin went sly, the blue tint to his lips and the hoarfrost on his nose paying mute evidence to just how many of the ghosts in this place actually agreed with him. Or at least thought he looked like he'd tip well. "Y'know, if you weren't so busy being such a pussy, you could probably get some too."
Sam rolled his eyes heavenward. "Why do I bother?"
Another giggling ghost drifted up, skimpy underwear revealing both an ample amount of skin and a gaping hole in her chest. "Come here, handsome," she cooed at Dean. "I got something for ya."
Sam was never taking Dean into a haunted brothel again. Fucking ever.
Divine
They'd been on the road for four hours and Dean was. Still. Grinning.
"Hey Sam," he said, right on cue. Sam was starting to find the idea of hitch hiking disturbingly appealing. "D'you think I qualify as a saint if..."
"Dean I swear to god, if you make one more joke about being 'touched by an angel' I'm going to throw you under a bus."
-----
Dean breezed into the motel room with two cups of coffee and a decidedly smug grin. "Still hard at work there, Sammy? Makes you a dull fucker, you know."
"Whatever Dean." Sam saved the square where he'd crossed off 'succubus' and tabbed into a browser window before Dean could lean over and see what he was working on. "Find anything out from the teacher?"
"Yeah actually." Dean passed over the cup labeled 'Pansy' before slumping down on the closest bed. "And since I'm awesome, I also went to the library and matched up the death records. We've got this fucker."
Sam took a cautious sip of his drink, relaxing once his tongue confirmed that there wasn't any cayenne pepper in it this time. "And?"
Dean's leer was wide and immediate. "Dude, we're going after a bona fide fertility god. How cool is that?"
Sam resisted the urge to groan aloud. He was going to need to start a new bingo card. Again.
~owari
(Poor Sam).