Ain't Nothing Like The Real Thing, Baby Part 2
Pairing: Sam/Dean, implied Sam/OMC, Sam/OFC
Rating: NC/17
Summary: Written for riveryklown at the Sam/Dean fic exchange. One of her prompts was: Sam wants Dean but Dean resists until Sam makes him jealous with some other guy. I managed angst that resolves happily, but not abruptly from her list of requests. Hope it's o.k.
Beta'd by the lovely and talented ratherastory who wouldn't let me change POV's in mid stream.
Icon by familiardevil
Dean had always been an equal opportunity sex god and, if after Sam left, he began to pick up guys a little more often, and those guys were usually young, (but legal), a little shorter than him, and slim with big hands and stupid floppy brown hair, well, what could he say? He had a type. Sam-like without all the baggage of being his little brother. Sam was out in the big world now. Finding himself. Finding the freedom to have the things normal people had. Things like an apartment you could stay in for more than a month at a time. Things like a job and a class schedule that wouldn't change in six weeks time because you were in a different town at a different school. Things like sexual fantasies ( followed by sexual experiences, but you never know, this was Sammy he was talking about here,) that didn't involve his big brother. Dean tried not to think too hard about that last one. He always got a twisted feeling in his chest at the thought of Sam having sexual experiences with other people. Whenever he started to wonder how that was working out for his brother, he'd get blind drunk and try to pretend that he hoped it was going well. Dean was only a lousy liar when it came to lying to himself.
No matter how much John protested otherwise, Dean knew his father was checking up on Sam as often as he could. Whenever Dean would ask how Sam was doing after one of John's not so secret trips, his father would just sigh and give Dean a bare bones status report. He's grown. His hair's longer. He's in a dorm with two hundred other students. He's getting straight A's. Dean never dared ask about Sam's sex life. He couldn't just ask his father if Sam had a girlfriend, or god forbid a boyfriend. He himself avoided Palo Alto like the plague. He wanted Sam to be moving on with his life and at the same time he wanted Sam to have tried out a variety of lovers but to have found none to be what he wanted. Which would be him. And how fucked up was that? Finally, a few weeks before Sam's twentieth birthday, Dean caved and headed for California.
He pulled Sam's address and class schedule out of the registrar's office computer and set up surveillance outside the library where he just knew his geek brother would be spending the majority of his time. As he watched the pretty co-eds wandering the campus in their California wardrobes, Dean decided he liked college. Sam must have found someone to have a relationship with among all the hot girls at this school. Damn it. He was leaning against a tree with a good line of sight to the library door and watching a trio of girls play frisbee when he heard the voice.
"Sam! Sam! Hey, Winchester, I'm talking to you!" The speaker was a pretty blonde girl who was running across the lawn to throw herself on the back of a tall guy with his back to Dean. The guy reached around and flipped the girl into his arms before turning around and laughing as he hugged her, then put her down. Dean just stared. Sam. Dad was right, he had grown. He must be topping six-four now and his hair hung shaggily down into his eyes. Dean kept his eyes glued to his brother's face. God, but he'd missed him. He wanted to go up to Sam and throw his arms around him. Wanted to tell him how much he'd missed having his bitch of a baby brother around. But Sam had obviously moved on and Dean didn't want to do anything to screw that up. Sam wrapped his arm around the girl's waist and they walked away laughing. Dean's body tensed as he thought of how easily he could have taken all this away from Sam. Just the one yes that he had so desperately wanted to say all those years ago and Dean would have fucked Sam up for life.
Dean watched Sam and his girl until they'd disappeared from sight. He wanted to follow them, not ready to give up drinking in the sight of his brother smiling and happy. It was a side of Sam he hadn't seen much of since Sam had hit puberty and he missed it. It killed him to turn and walk back to where he'd left the Impala, but it was what was best for Sam. Dean was happy for Sam, he was, but other feelings swirled inside him like a hurricane. Hurt, jealousy, loss, need. Need. Yeah, that was pretty much the only one he could do anything about. When Sam left he'd begun picking up his...his... oh, fuck it, his Sam substitutes, whenever he was feeling lonely for his little brother. He'd always kept their heads down when they were sucking his cock. Never fucked them face to face. Never called them by any name. But he never could delude himself enough to forget for one second that it wasn't Sam he was with. Other times when he was missing Sam, he'd remember that he'd started this whole thing by being totally unable to keep his dick in his pants. He still went out, but these times he let himself be picked up by someone who didn't want love or gentleness. By someone who wanted it rough and who would fuck him long and hard. Someone who would punish him with words and blows for the way he had screwed up his little brother. Dean headed back to the hotel. He had time for a shower and a six-pack while he waited for the bars to fill up.
By nine o'clock, Dean was clean and buzzed and looking good if he did say so himself. He'd had years to perfect the practice of getting himself ready for what he needed tonight. His jeans were tight and ripped in strategic places. His t-shirt outlined every muscle on his chest and back. His hair was mussed and perfect and he knew the guys would be lining up for a shot at him. He'd be able to take his pick. He'd scoped out the area before heading out to find Sam and he knew there was a bar a few blocks away that would be perfect. A back alley dive with a line of motorcycles out front and pool tables in the back. Oh, yeah. This place would be perfect.
Half an hour later, Dean walked into the bar. It wasn't packed, but it wasn't empty either and he could feel eyes on him already as he crossed the floor to take a seat at the bar. The redhead wiping down the bartop wasn't a beauty, but she was pretty in a way Dean liked and the smile she gave him would have meant a wild night later if he hadn't been in the market for something so totally different.
"What can I get you?" she asked with a grin.
"PBR, please and a shot of whiskey."
"Comin' right up!"
A minute later, Dean was drinking and scoping out the men in the bar. Appearances could be deceiving, but none looked like they were going to be able to handle him like he needed to be handled tonight.
"Lookin' for anything in particular?" The bartender was back and leaning in front of him, cleavage displayed to maximum effect. "My name's Jenny and I get off at two."
Dean gave her a real smile and put a tinge of regret in his voice. "Not tonight darlin'. I'm looking for something a little....less soft. Not that you don't make it real appealing."
"Think you might have picked the right night." She was looking over his shoulder toward the door. "Might just get more than you bargain for tonight, sweetcheeks."
Dean swiveled around on his barstool to check out the man coming through the door. In spite of the barkeep's words, he didn't look like anything special. About his height and build. Same coloring. Jeans, flannel shirt, leather jacket. Dean followed the man's progress to the back of the room. He sat in a back corner where two other tables were already occupied by one man each. The other two men could almost have been copies of this one and they all eyed each other with dislike.
Dean snorted. "What, do they have a club? Call each other to see what to wear before they all go out? Sorry, but I don't think all three of them together could handle me, never mind just one."
Jenny snorted right back, but in a more ladylike way. "Them? They couldn't handle themselves. It's who they're waiting for. If they're all here, then he'll be here and baby, he'll give you all you can handle and more."
Dean cocked an eyebrow at her. "I don't know. I can handle an awful lot. And I don't back down to just anybody."
"Yeah, I can imagine you don't." A little doubt crept into her voice. "You definitely look his type. Those guys back there have nothing on you in the looks department. He's had some that were better looking, but nothing that even comes close to you, honey. It's the attitude. I just don't see you sitting still for the kind of stuff he dishes out. Some people are desperate for someone like him. You seem like you could do without it."
The smile was a little less real this time. "Most nights I can. Tonight just happens to not be one of them. This dude likely to show up soon?"
"Usually comes in around ten. Sticks around for an hour or two playing pool while the guys audition for him. All these guys have been here before, so it shouldn't take too long. Unless you decide to play and then I think things will get real interesting."
"Great. Why don't you set me up with another beer while I'm waiting and have one yourself. If you're not too busy you can keep me company and tell me more about Mr. Real Interesting and the three stooges back there."
Jenny grabbed herself a brew and settled an elbow on the bar. "I'm not sure what his name is. Every time he's here, his dates call him something different. He's young, maybe twenty, twenty-one, built like a brick shit house and sometimes he seems like a college student and sometimes he seems like something else entirely."
"Like what else entirely?" This guy was starting to interest Dean.
"I'm not sure. A soldier maybe? A cop? Someone you don't want to mess with that's for sure. I saw him put down three bikers with a pool cue once when they were hitting on one of his guys and wouldn't take no for an answer. Kind of scary."
"He been coming here long?" This guy was really starting to interest Dean.
"A little over a year. Used to be he'd hook up with different types, but that only lasted a couple of months. Guess he decided he wanted something specific and he's been getting it here ever since. Those guys back there are pretty representative."
Wow, Dean marveled sarcastically to himself, Someone who actually tries out other options before deciding what they want. Then he decided he was being unfair. Sam had eventually tried another option. The evidence of that had smacked him right in the gut that afternoon. Now he was pissed because Sam had moved on. Why the fuck couldn't his life ever be easy?
Jenny's gaze sharpened and she inclined her head toward the back of the room. "He's here."
Dean twisted his head slightly and cast a casual glance in that direction. He didn't want this guy to know he was checking him out until he was sure he was worth checking out. The three men had left their tables and were converging on a tall guy back by the pool tables. They were eying each other like strange cats locked in a small room and Dean snorted at the thought of them being any competition if he decided he wanted to go home with this dude. This dude who was turning around to greet his three little..little..shit. His height, his build, his coloring, his clothes. His three little Dean substitutes? Dean snorted softly and turned back to the bar. Mr. Dominant Scary Ass Soldier Dude? Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. So what was up with the hot chick at the library today? Sam had actually done what Dean had asked? Hot chicks and guys that weren't like the three (or four if you were being accurate) here tonight? And what had he come back to? The knot in Dean's chest that had appeared after Sam's declaration in Texas and had been pulled tight that afternoon loosened and he felt like he could breathe for the first time in years. Sam had come back to him.
"So," Jenny's voice interrupted his thoughts. "What's got you looking like the cat that ate the canary?"
Dean smiled and drained his beer. There was no fucking way any of those losers were going home with his brother. He'd shoot them first. "Think I'm going to get me some of that action back there."
"Gonna let the big strong man boss you around?" her tone was teasing and Dean turned around with a laugh.
"He will never be the boss of me."
"Then you're not his type," she warned.
"Sweetheart," Dean drawled, giving her the smile that set panties on fire across the continental U.S. "I'm the prototype of his type."
The bar had filled up in the last hour and Dean wanted to see what game Sam was playing before he joined in, so he meandered through the crowd, striking up conversations with pretty girls and casting frequent glances at the pool table Sam was doing his thing at. He and his guys just stood around for a few minutes. Sam talking and the guys posturing and trying to make themselves be THE guy. Sam eventually turned to the table and racked a set of balls. He broke with typical Winchester skill and Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. Apparently Sam was only hustling ass here.
Sam made a gesture and one of the men came forward and took the cue Sam held out. Sam pointed out a shot he seemed to want the guy to try, then bent him over the table, hands guiding the cue, hips grinding into his ass. Dean watched, barely able to resist the urge to go over and pull Sam away from the scumbag as his brother guided the cue back and forth in the guy's hands a few times then let it go and moved his grip to the guy's hips. The cue slid back and forth a few more times before it started forward to take the actual shot. Sam chose that moment to whisper something in the guy's ear and give a hard grind into his ass. The cue hit the ball, but not the one it was aiming at and Sam leaned back and let the guy up. Dean wanted to go over there and shove the pool cue down the guy's throat. Or up his ass. Or maybe both. Sam repeated this performance with the two other guys, then nodded at the one who had done the worst and the other two left with scowls on their faces. Dean managed to restrain himself far enough to not to kick their asses on the way out.
His decision made, Sam set about clearing the table and Dean knew he had to make his move now. He waited until Sam's back was to him, bent over the table, lining up a difficult shot. Dean came up behind his brother and leaned against him like Sam had leaned against those other guys. He was a little disturbed by the fact that he couldn't press against Sam's ass the way he wanted to. It was a couple of inches too high. Damn. Sam really had grown.
"You don't want to be doing that." Sam's voice was a low growl and Dean just grinned and rubbed his hand up his brother's back. When the pool cue came rocketing back towards his ribs he was ready for it.
"Not going to make the shot that way, Sammy." He had the end of the cue in one hand and the other still on Sam's back keeping the pressure on to bend him over. "Not going to make it at all, actually. Angle's a little off." He released the cue and slid both hands up Sam's back. "I'd help you out with that, but you seem to have gotten too freakishly long for me to reach."
Sam was silent, but Dean could feel his heart pounding beneath his hands. Sam pushed back slowly and Dean retreated and let him up. Sam stared at him in disbelief and Dean felt the smirk that he knew drove his brother crazy slide across his face.
"Hey, Sammy. Want to bend me over that table and see if you can make me miss a shot?" Sam's mouth opened and closed but nothing was coming out so Dean leaned around him and spoke to the man waiting for his brother. "You can take off now, mini-me. He's not going to be needing you tonight."
The man's gaze hardened on Dean, but he managed to not let it scare him. Sam came out of his daze and gave the man a nod. "Go." was all he said.
The man took a few steps towards Sam. "But I'm supposed to be with you tonight."
Sam turned a blank gaze on him. "Are you arguing with me?" His voice was a dark purr of displeasure.
The man backed off and dropped his eyes. "No. No sir." Then he turned and left the bar.
Sam turned back to his brother. He seemed to be getting over his shock at seeing Dean again and his wide eyes swept Dean's body up and down.
"What are you doing here Dean? And what's with all the hands on? You're sending out some seriously mixed signals here, man"
"I just came here for some action, Sam. After what I saw at the library with you and the gorgeous blonde this afternoon I have to say I'm kind of surprised to find you here. But what I saw after I got here, well it opened my eyes a little. Had a nice talk with the bartender. She told me you used to hook up with all sorts of guys. But lately you've been sticking to a type. My type." Dean hesitated here for a moment. "Well, sort of my type in a pale imitation, loser kind of way. But my point is, you've tried other options, Sam. And you obviously still want me. So, here I am."
"Jesus, Dean, you were talking to the bartender about me? How did you know I'd even be here?"
"I didn't know I was talking about you at the time. She told me what time she got off. I told her I was looking for something different tonight. She told me about a guy that would be in later. I told her I was a lot to handle." Dean ignored Sam's eyeroll here. " She said she was pretty sure this guy was up to it. What do you think, Sammy? Think you're up to handling me?"
Sam was starting to come around, but he still hadn't gotten there yet, so Dean grabbed a cue and bent over the table, cocking his hips back. He looked back over his shoulder at Sam with a lascivious grin.
"Come on, Sam. Line something up."
Sam huffed an almost laugh and moved towards his brother with a smile starting on his face. He bent over Dean like he had the others. One hand pressed on his back, hips almost touching his ass. He studied the table for a moment.
"Bank shot. Seven off the nine then in the side pocket."
Dean studied the angles for a moment, then snorted. "Jeez, Sam don't you have anything harder? Oof!" Dean grunted as Sam ground against his ass. "I guess you do." he murmured, leaning further over the table and adjusting his cue to line up the shot the way he wanted. He pulled the cue back and forth a few times, judging the distance and speed he would need to make his shot, then let the stick fly forward. As he let the cue go Sam ground hard against his ass and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. If Dean hadn't spent the last twenty or so years having his life depend on not letting distractions get to him, the combination of Sam's moves would have had the cue ball flying across the bar. As it was, the seven banked off the nine and went neatly into the side pocket. Dean straightened up, still feeling the press of Sam behind him. He backed Sam off an inch or two with a discreet elbow and turned to look up at his brother, a cocky grin on his face.
"I was a little busy concentrating on my shot there Sammy, but I think I recall you saying something about me getting something if I made it. Want to repeat what first prize in your little pool shooting contest is?"
Sam put a hand under Dean's chin and tilted his head up. He leaned close, looking into his brother's eyes. "Christo." he breathed, while his other hand brought the sharp edge of a silver watchband softly across Dean's wrist.
Dean looked at the thin line of blood appearing on his skin then back up at his brother. "It's really me, Sammy."
"I had to be sure, Dean. You're not really acting like you."
Dean looked at his brother in confusion. "Really? I think I'm acting just like me."
Sam had to concede this point. "O.k. I guess you are. You're just not acting like you act with me."
"Oh." Dean had a sudden, horrible thought. Maybe Sam didn't want him to act that way with him anymore. "Sam do you still...I mean if you don't want...I can go. I should probably go." He turned to leave, the knot in his chest back, bigger and tighter than before, making it hard for him to breathe. He was so fucking stupid. He made it about two steps before Sam's hand gripped his arm and hauled him back. He found himself pulled against his brother's ridiculously broad chest and Sam was whispering in his ear.
"Breathe, Dean. I've got you and you're not going anywhere." Sam waited a few moments for Dean to calm down and then went on. "No one's ever won first prize in my pool shooting contest before. You don't want to leave before the awards are given out do you?"
Dean shuddered out a breath. "What did you say that prize was going to be again?"
"I said," Sam breathed into his ear, "that if you made the shot I would take you home and suck your brains out through your dick. Of course, in your case, I would have done it even if you missed. And if you think I want you to leave, it won't take very long to get those brains out, because there can't be much there to start with. I've been waiting for this for years, Dean. I'm not letting you get out of this now."
"Don't want to get out of it Sam." Dean had fully recovered and flashed Sam his cockiest grin. "Want to get out of here, though. How about you take me back to your place and you can show me what I've been missing all these years."
There was a flash of uncertainty, almost embarrassment, across Sam's face. "Thought we might want to go back to the motel."
"No, Sam. I want to see where you live. I mean, where were you going to go with that other guy if I hadn't been here?"
Now he was sure it was embarrassment staining Sam's cheeks. "Back to my room. But it's kind of set up for...well, it's not set up for you."
Dean couldn't resist. "Well, not for the real me."
"No, Dean." Sam's whisper barely reached Dean's ears and the look on his face made Dean's breath catch in his throat. "Never for the real you." Sam took his brother's arm and propelled him toward the door. Dean caught Jenny's eye and waggled his eyebrows at her. Have fun, she mouthed with a smile. Fun, he thought to himself, was not what he had come here looking for, but he'd be damned if that wasn't what he was going to end up having.
Dean watched Sam as they headed to the parking lot and grinned when his brother's face lit up at the sight of the Impala. When Sam slid into the shotgun seat and slammed the door, Dean let out a deep breath. This was going to happen and once it did there was no going back.
"Sam," Dean's hesitation was clear in his voice.
"No, Dean. You don't get to back out of this now."
"It"s totally fucked up."
"Fucked up is the Winchester way." Sam reached out and turned Dean's head to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "At least we'll be fucked up together."
Together. "Okay, Sam. Fucked up together it is." Dean pulled his baby out of the parking lot and headed for the dorm.
Part 3
Rating: NC/17
Summary: Written for riveryklown at the Sam/Dean fic exchange. One of her prompts was: Sam wants Dean but Dean resists until Sam makes him jealous with some other guy. I managed angst that resolves happily, but not abruptly from her list of requests. Hope it's o.k.
Beta'd by the lovely and talented ratherastory who wouldn't let me change POV's in mid stream.
Icon by familiardevil
Dean had always been an equal opportunity sex god and, if after Sam left, he began to pick up guys a little more often, and those guys were usually young, (but legal), a little shorter than him, and slim with big hands and stupid floppy brown hair, well, what could he say? He had a type. Sam-like without all the baggage of being his little brother. Sam was out in the big world now. Finding himself. Finding the freedom to have the things normal people had. Things like an apartment you could stay in for more than a month at a time. Things like a job and a class schedule that wouldn't change in six weeks time because you were in a different town at a different school. Things like sexual fantasies ( followed by sexual experiences, but you never know, this was Sammy he was talking about here,) that didn't involve his big brother. Dean tried not to think too hard about that last one. He always got a twisted feeling in his chest at the thought of Sam having sexual experiences with other people. Whenever he started to wonder how that was working out for his brother, he'd get blind drunk and try to pretend that he hoped it was going well. Dean was only a lousy liar when it came to lying to himself.
No matter how much John protested otherwise, Dean knew his father was checking up on Sam as often as he could. Whenever Dean would ask how Sam was doing after one of John's not so secret trips, his father would just sigh and give Dean a bare bones status report. He's grown. His hair's longer. He's in a dorm with two hundred other students. He's getting straight A's. Dean never dared ask about Sam's sex life. He couldn't just ask his father if Sam had a girlfriend, or god forbid a boyfriend. He himself avoided Palo Alto like the plague. He wanted Sam to be moving on with his life and at the same time he wanted Sam to have tried out a variety of lovers but to have found none to be what he wanted. Which would be him. And how fucked up was that? Finally, a few weeks before Sam's twentieth birthday, Dean caved and headed for California.
He pulled Sam's address and class schedule out of the registrar's office computer and set up surveillance outside the library where he just knew his geek brother would be spending the majority of his time. As he watched the pretty co-eds wandering the campus in their California wardrobes, Dean decided he liked college. Sam must have found someone to have a relationship with among all the hot girls at this school. Damn it. He was leaning against a tree with a good line of sight to the library door and watching a trio of girls play frisbee when he heard the voice.
"Sam! Sam! Hey, Winchester, I'm talking to you!" The speaker was a pretty blonde girl who was running across the lawn to throw herself on the back of a tall guy with his back to Dean. The guy reached around and flipped the girl into his arms before turning around and laughing as he hugged her, then put her down. Dean just stared. Sam. Dad was right, he had grown. He must be topping six-four now and his hair hung shaggily down into his eyes. Dean kept his eyes glued to his brother's face. God, but he'd missed him. He wanted to go up to Sam and throw his arms around him. Wanted to tell him how much he'd missed having his bitch of a baby brother around. But Sam had obviously moved on and Dean didn't want to do anything to screw that up. Sam wrapped his arm around the girl's waist and they walked away laughing. Dean's body tensed as he thought of how easily he could have taken all this away from Sam. Just the one yes that he had so desperately wanted to say all those years ago and Dean would have fucked Sam up for life.
Dean watched Sam and his girl until they'd disappeared from sight. He wanted to follow them, not ready to give up drinking in the sight of his brother smiling and happy. It was a side of Sam he hadn't seen much of since Sam had hit puberty and he missed it. It killed him to turn and walk back to where he'd left the Impala, but it was what was best for Sam. Dean was happy for Sam, he was, but other feelings swirled inside him like a hurricane. Hurt, jealousy, loss, need. Need. Yeah, that was pretty much the only one he could do anything about. When Sam left he'd begun picking up his...his... oh, fuck it, his Sam substitutes, whenever he was feeling lonely for his little brother. He'd always kept their heads down when they were sucking his cock. Never fucked them face to face. Never called them by any name. But he never could delude himself enough to forget for one second that it wasn't Sam he was with. Other times when he was missing Sam, he'd remember that he'd started this whole thing by being totally unable to keep his dick in his pants. He still went out, but these times he let himself be picked up by someone who didn't want love or gentleness. By someone who wanted it rough and who would fuck him long and hard. Someone who would punish him with words and blows for the way he had screwed up his little brother. Dean headed back to the hotel. He had time for a shower and a six-pack while he waited for the bars to fill up.
By nine o'clock, Dean was clean and buzzed and looking good if he did say so himself. He'd had years to perfect the practice of getting himself ready for what he needed tonight. His jeans were tight and ripped in strategic places. His t-shirt outlined every muscle on his chest and back. His hair was mussed and perfect and he knew the guys would be lining up for a shot at him. He'd be able to take his pick. He'd scoped out the area before heading out to find Sam and he knew there was a bar a few blocks away that would be perfect. A back alley dive with a line of motorcycles out front and pool tables in the back. Oh, yeah. This place would be perfect.
Half an hour later, Dean walked into the bar. It wasn't packed, but it wasn't empty either and he could feel eyes on him already as he crossed the floor to take a seat at the bar. The redhead wiping down the bartop wasn't a beauty, but she was pretty in a way Dean liked and the smile she gave him would have meant a wild night later if he hadn't been in the market for something so totally different.
"What can I get you?" she asked with a grin.
"PBR, please and a shot of whiskey."
"Comin' right up!"
A minute later, Dean was drinking and scoping out the men in the bar. Appearances could be deceiving, but none looked like they were going to be able to handle him like he needed to be handled tonight.
"Lookin' for anything in particular?" The bartender was back and leaning in front of him, cleavage displayed to maximum effect. "My name's Jenny and I get off at two."
Dean gave her a real smile and put a tinge of regret in his voice. "Not tonight darlin'. I'm looking for something a little....less soft. Not that you don't make it real appealing."
"Think you might have picked the right night." She was looking over his shoulder toward the door. "Might just get more than you bargain for tonight, sweetcheeks."
Dean swiveled around on his barstool to check out the man coming through the door. In spite of the barkeep's words, he didn't look like anything special. About his height and build. Same coloring. Jeans, flannel shirt, leather jacket. Dean followed the man's progress to the back of the room. He sat in a back corner where two other tables were already occupied by one man each. The other two men could almost have been copies of this one and they all eyed each other with dislike.
Dean snorted. "What, do they have a club? Call each other to see what to wear before they all go out? Sorry, but I don't think all three of them together could handle me, never mind just one."
Jenny snorted right back, but in a more ladylike way. "Them? They couldn't handle themselves. It's who they're waiting for. If they're all here, then he'll be here and baby, he'll give you all you can handle and more."
Dean cocked an eyebrow at her. "I don't know. I can handle an awful lot. And I don't back down to just anybody."
"Yeah, I can imagine you don't." A little doubt crept into her voice. "You definitely look his type. Those guys back there have nothing on you in the looks department. He's had some that were better looking, but nothing that even comes close to you, honey. It's the attitude. I just don't see you sitting still for the kind of stuff he dishes out. Some people are desperate for someone like him. You seem like you could do without it."
The smile was a little less real this time. "Most nights I can. Tonight just happens to not be one of them. This dude likely to show up soon?"
"Usually comes in around ten. Sticks around for an hour or two playing pool while the guys audition for him. All these guys have been here before, so it shouldn't take too long. Unless you decide to play and then I think things will get real interesting."
"Great. Why don't you set me up with another beer while I'm waiting and have one yourself. If you're not too busy you can keep me company and tell me more about Mr. Real Interesting and the three stooges back there."
Jenny grabbed herself a brew and settled an elbow on the bar. "I'm not sure what his name is. Every time he's here, his dates call him something different. He's young, maybe twenty, twenty-one, built like a brick shit house and sometimes he seems like a college student and sometimes he seems like something else entirely."
"Like what else entirely?" This guy was starting to interest Dean.
"I'm not sure. A soldier maybe? A cop? Someone you don't want to mess with that's for sure. I saw him put down three bikers with a pool cue once when they were hitting on one of his guys and wouldn't take no for an answer. Kind of scary."
"He been coming here long?" This guy was really starting to interest Dean.
"A little over a year. Used to be he'd hook up with different types, but that only lasted a couple of months. Guess he decided he wanted something specific and he's been getting it here ever since. Those guys back there are pretty representative."
Wow, Dean marveled sarcastically to himself, Someone who actually tries out other options before deciding what they want. Then he decided he was being unfair. Sam had eventually tried another option. The evidence of that had smacked him right in the gut that afternoon. Now he was pissed because Sam had moved on. Why the fuck couldn't his life ever be easy?
Jenny's gaze sharpened and she inclined her head toward the back of the room. "He's here."
Dean twisted his head slightly and cast a casual glance in that direction. He didn't want this guy to know he was checking him out until he was sure he was worth checking out. The three men had left their tables and were converging on a tall guy back by the pool tables. They were eying each other like strange cats locked in a small room and Dean snorted at the thought of them being any competition if he decided he wanted to go home with this dude. This dude who was turning around to greet his three little..little..shit. His height, his build, his coloring, his clothes. His three little Dean substitutes? Dean snorted softly and turned back to the bar. Mr. Dominant Scary Ass Soldier Dude? Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. So what was up with the hot chick at the library today? Sam had actually done what Dean had asked? Hot chicks and guys that weren't like the three (or four if you were being accurate) here tonight? And what had he come back to? The knot in Dean's chest that had appeared after Sam's declaration in Texas and had been pulled tight that afternoon loosened and he felt like he could breathe for the first time in years. Sam had come back to him.
"So," Jenny's voice interrupted his thoughts. "What's got you looking like the cat that ate the canary?"
Dean smiled and drained his beer. There was no fucking way any of those losers were going home with his brother. He'd shoot them first. "Think I'm going to get me some of that action back there."
"Gonna let the big strong man boss you around?" her tone was teasing and Dean turned around with a laugh.
"He will never be the boss of me."
"Then you're not his type," she warned.
"Sweetheart," Dean drawled, giving her the smile that set panties on fire across the continental U.S. "I'm the prototype of his type."
The bar had filled up in the last hour and Dean wanted to see what game Sam was playing before he joined in, so he meandered through the crowd, striking up conversations with pretty girls and casting frequent glances at the pool table Sam was doing his thing at. He and his guys just stood around for a few minutes. Sam talking and the guys posturing and trying to make themselves be THE guy. Sam eventually turned to the table and racked a set of balls. He broke with typical Winchester skill and Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. Apparently Sam was only hustling ass here.
Sam made a gesture and one of the men came forward and took the cue Sam held out. Sam pointed out a shot he seemed to want the guy to try, then bent him over the table, hands guiding the cue, hips grinding into his ass. Dean watched, barely able to resist the urge to go over and pull Sam away from the scumbag as his brother guided the cue back and forth in the guy's hands a few times then let it go and moved his grip to the guy's hips. The cue slid back and forth a few more times before it started forward to take the actual shot. Sam chose that moment to whisper something in the guy's ear and give a hard grind into his ass. The cue hit the ball, but not the one it was aiming at and Sam leaned back and let the guy up. Dean wanted to go over there and shove the pool cue down the guy's throat. Or up his ass. Or maybe both. Sam repeated this performance with the two other guys, then nodded at the one who had done the worst and the other two left with scowls on their faces. Dean managed to restrain himself far enough to not to kick their asses on the way out.
His decision made, Sam set about clearing the table and Dean knew he had to make his move now. He waited until Sam's back was to him, bent over the table, lining up a difficult shot. Dean came up behind his brother and leaned against him like Sam had leaned against those other guys. He was a little disturbed by the fact that he couldn't press against Sam's ass the way he wanted to. It was a couple of inches too high. Damn. Sam really had grown.
"You don't want to be doing that." Sam's voice was a low growl and Dean just grinned and rubbed his hand up his brother's back. When the pool cue came rocketing back towards his ribs he was ready for it.
"Not going to make the shot that way, Sammy." He had the end of the cue in one hand and the other still on Sam's back keeping the pressure on to bend him over. "Not going to make it at all, actually. Angle's a little off." He released the cue and slid both hands up Sam's back. "I'd help you out with that, but you seem to have gotten too freakishly long for me to reach."
Sam was silent, but Dean could feel his heart pounding beneath his hands. Sam pushed back slowly and Dean retreated and let him up. Sam stared at him in disbelief and Dean felt the smirk that he knew drove his brother crazy slide across his face.
"Hey, Sammy. Want to bend me over that table and see if you can make me miss a shot?" Sam's mouth opened and closed but nothing was coming out so Dean leaned around him and spoke to the man waiting for his brother. "You can take off now, mini-me. He's not going to be needing you tonight."
The man's gaze hardened on Dean, but he managed to not let it scare him. Sam came out of his daze and gave the man a nod. "Go." was all he said.
The man took a few steps towards Sam. "But I'm supposed to be with you tonight."
Sam turned a blank gaze on him. "Are you arguing with me?" His voice was a dark purr of displeasure.
The man backed off and dropped his eyes. "No. No sir." Then he turned and left the bar.
Sam turned back to his brother. He seemed to be getting over his shock at seeing Dean again and his wide eyes swept Dean's body up and down.
"What are you doing here Dean? And what's with all the hands on? You're sending out some seriously mixed signals here, man"
"I just came here for some action, Sam. After what I saw at the library with you and the gorgeous blonde this afternoon I have to say I'm kind of surprised to find you here. But what I saw after I got here, well it opened my eyes a little. Had a nice talk with the bartender. She told me you used to hook up with all sorts of guys. But lately you've been sticking to a type. My type." Dean hesitated here for a moment. "Well, sort of my type in a pale imitation, loser kind of way. But my point is, you've tried other options, Sam. And you obviously still want me. So, here I am."
"Jesus, Dean, you were talking to the bartender about me? How did you know I'd even be here?"
"I didn't know I was talking about you at the time. She told me what time she got off. I told her I was looking for something different tonight. She told me about a guy that would be in later. I told her I was a lot to handle." Dean ignored Sam's eyeroll here. " She said she was pretty sure this guy was up to it. What do you think, Sammy? Think you're up to handling me?"
Sam was starting to come around, but he still hadn't gotten there yet, so Dean grabbed a cue and bent over the table, cocking his hips back. He looked back over his shoulder at Sam with a lascivious grin.
"Come on, Sam. Line something up."
Sam huffed an almost laugh and moved towards his brother with a smile starting on his face. He bent over Dean like he had the others. One hand pressed on his back, hips almost touching his ass. He studied the table for a moment.
"Bank shot. Seven off the nine then in the side pocket."
Dean studied the angles for a moment, then snorted. "Jeez, Sam don't you have anything harder? Oof!" Dean grunted as Sam ground against his ass. "I guess you do." he murmured, leaning further over the table and adjusting his cue to line up the shot the way he wanted. He pulled the cue back and forth a few times, judging the distance and speed he would need to make his shot, then let the stick fly forward. As he let the cue go Sam ground hard against his ass and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. If Dean hadn't spent the last twenty or so years having his life depend on not letting distractions get to him, the combination of Sam's moves would have had the cue ball flying across the bar. As it was, the seven banked off the nine and went neatly into the side pocket. Dean straightened up, still feeling the press of Sam behind him. He backed Sam off an inch or two with a discreet elbow and turned to look up at his brother, a cocky grin on his face.
"I was a little busy concentrating on my shot there Sammy, but I think I recall you saying something about me getting something if I made it. Want to repeat what first prize in your little pool shooting contest is?"
Sam put a hand under Dean's chin and tilted his head up. He leaned close, looking into his brother's eyes. "Christo." he breathed, while his other hand brought the sharp edge of a silver watchband softly across Dean's wrist.
Dean looked at the thin line of blood appearing on his skin then back up at his brother. "It's really me, Sammy."
"I had to be sure, Dean. You're not really acting like you."
Dean looked at his brother in confusion. "Really? I think I'm acting just like me."
Sam had to concede this point. "O.k. I guess you are. You're just not acting like you act with me."
"Oh." Dean had a sudden, horrible thought. Maybe Sam didn't want him to act that way with him anymore. "Sam do you still...I mean if you don't want...I can go. I should probably go." He turned to leave, the knot in his chest back, bigger and tighter than before, making it hard for him to breathe. He was so fucking stupid. He made it about two steps before Sam's hand gripped his arm and hauled him back. He found himself pulled against his brother's ridiculously broad chest and Sam was whispering in his ear.
"Breathe, Dean. I've got you and you're not going anywhere." Sam waited a few moments for Dean to calm down and then went on. "No one's ever won first prize in my pool shooting contest before. You don't want to leave before the awards are given out do you?"
Dean shuddered out a breath. "What did you say that prize was going to be again?"
"I said," Sam breathed into his ear, "that if you made the shot I would take you home and suck your brains out through your dick. Of course, in your case, I would have done it even if you missed. And if you think I want you to leave, it won't take very long to get those brains out, because there can't be much there to start with. I've been waiting for this for years, Dean. I'm not letting you get out of this now."
"Don't want to get out of it Sam." Dean had fully recovered and flashed Sam his cockiest grin. "Want to get out of here, though. How about you take me back to your place and you can show me what I've been missing all these years."
There was a flash of uncertainty, almost embarrassment, across Sam's face. "Thought we might want to go back to the motel."
"No, Sam. I want to see where you live. I mean, where were you going to go with that other guy if I hadn't been here?"
Now he was sure it was embarrassment staining Sam's cheeks. "Back to my room. But it's kind of set up for...well, it's not set up for you."
Dean couldn't resist. "Well, not for the real me."
"No, Dean." Sam's whisper barely reached Dean's ears and the look on his face made Dean's breath catch in his throat. "Never for the real you." Sam took his brother's arm and propelled him toward the door. Dean caught Jenny's eye and waggled his eyebrows at her. Have fun, she mouthed with a smile. Fun, he thought to himself, was not what he had come here looking for, but he'd be damned if that wasn't what he was going to end up having.
Dean watched Sam as they headed to the parking lot and grinned when his brother's face lit up at the sight of the Impala. When Sam slid into the shotgun seat and slammed the door, Dean let out a deep breath. This was going to happen and once it did there was no going back.
"Sam," Dean's hesitation was clear in his voice.
"No, Dean. You don't get to back out of this now."
"It"s totally fucked up."
"Fucked up is the Winchester way." Sam reached out and turned Dean's head to him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "At least we'll be fucked up together."
Together. "Okay, Sam. Fucked up together it is." Dean pulled his baby out of the parking lot and headed for the dorm.
Part 3