FIC - Fight
Title: Fight
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
W/C: ~1400
Summary: Sometimes they fight, sometimes they fuck, sometimes they do both.
A/N: written for ajap1991 at multifan_gift. Hope you like it!!!! Special thanks to sammichgirl for the beta.
The Impala isn’t big enough to contain the waves of angry energy radiating from Dean and Sam like competing tsunamis. Their shouting is too loud for this confined space.
Not that it’s ever stopped them before. Both brothers have screamed themselves hoarse across the front bench seat many times. They’d started in on it even when they were kids and the shouting was across the back seat, but their dad was always there with a warning glare; just a quiet, “Enough, boys” sufficient to shut them both up, let them go back to holding the current grudge in their brains instead of working it out.
Now, though, it’s just the two of them. And it’s better this way, it is, they’ve tried being silent before, shutting things down, not bringing up whatever it was that was bothering one or both of them. What a miserable failure that was, on so many fronts. They don’t do it anymore. If Sam gets pissed at Dean, or Dean gets pissed at Sam, it’s on.
They love each other, truly, as brothers and so much more, but it’s not like they weren’t ever going to fight. Hell, it’s not like they don’t fight on a fairly regular basis.
This one, though…this one’s turning ugly.
Dean guides the car into a motel parking lot, gets out to check them in. Sam waits in the car for him to return, but when he gets out of the car, he slams the door, hard. Just to be an asshole. Because he’s mad. Really fucking mad. And he knows slamming the door is going to grate on his brother’s nerves, so that’s what he does. On purpose.
Somehow they make their way from the car to the room without exchanging any words, but the minute the door shuts behind them, they’re right back where they were.
“You had to slam the door? Really? Is this a fucking temper tantrum, you giant baby?”
“Awww, here I thought you were pissed at me and you’re calling me baby” Sam replies, dripping sarcasm from every word that comes out of his mouth.
“Fuck you, Sam. Fuck you, and fuck your self-righteous holier-than-thou bullshit. I’m tired of it!” Dean wants to throw something.
He really, really wants to throw something.
So he throws the only item in his hand, which turns out to be the car keys.
They hit Sam directly on the left side of his forehead. Hard.
First blood tonight goes to Dean. Ding, ding, ding - give the man a prize.
He probably didn’t think his prize was going to be Sam moving toward him fast as lightning, knocking his head against the wall.
“Well, fuck you too, Dean. Fuck you, and fuck your I’m entitled to anything that catches my eye bullshit. I know we break the law every damn day for this job, but stealing from a goddamn witness? Some girl who never did anything wrong-”
“And exactly how the hell do you know that she never did anything wrong?”
“Shut the fuck up, Dean, Jesus, I mean, we just went to ask her some questions, she wasn’t a suspect, and she didn’t turn out to be the bad guy, but before we even knew that, you ganked her wallet? For real? When the hell did you turn into that guy?”
“Oh, I don’t know Sam, maybe when I was ten and pickpocketing total strangers so I could fucking feed you while Dad was off hunting. We take our cash where we can get it, and it’s not like that privileged bitch is gonna miss a few hundred bucks. You never had any problem using stolen credit cards and hustling pool, if I recall correctly.”
“You recall incorrectly, dick. Did I not at least attempt to try getting us honest work between hunts so we wouldn’t have to do that shit?”
Dean pushes back then, sending Sam a few feet across the room, where he lands with his ass on the edge of one of the beds. “Yeah, sure, I remember. But then you figured out there was no way around it. We commit crimes every damn day. Fraudulent credit cards. Theft. Breaking and entering. Impersonating law enforcement officers. Cheating pool and dart players out of their money.”
As he’s speaking, Dean’s moving. Forward. Toward Sam, dumbstruck and half-sitting, half-lying at the end of the bed closest to the door.
“Oh, and don’t forget incest”, he finishes as he climbs onto Sam’s lap and pushes him back onto the mattress. “Gay marriage legal in six whole states but incest…still a big giant lawbreaker. Change your mind about that, Sammy?”
Sam’s caught off guard now that Dean’s climbing on top of him. Nothing like a blanket of Dean to knock his brain totally offline. And Sam knows, he fucking knows that Dean is just trying to distract him, to change the subject, but it doesn’t matter because Sam has no willpower when his brother crawls over him, lays him out flat on the bed and hovers above him, mouth almost close enough to touch.
And he wants to say something else. He really, really does, he wants to keep trying to make his point but now he’s got a face-full of Dean and he can’t say anything except “No, I - I didn’t change my mind about…about that…”
So the fight’s not over. Not by a longshot.
Dean grabs a handful of Sam’s hair and kisses him, hard, clashing teeth and spit going everywhere, nothing sweet or romantic about it. He pushes him farther up the bed and starts stripping their clothes, first Sam’s then his own, until they’re there, skin on skin, grinding against each other.
Sam bucks up against him, digging his nails into Dean’s back until skin breaks and Dean grabs his hands and holds his wrists together above his head.
“Fuck, Sam, you can’t just…” and that’s all Dean manages to get out before he’s grabbing for the lube in his duffel on the floor. As he slides first one finger, and then two into his brother’s ass, he continues. “you can’t just accuse me of being a terrible person and then think we can forget it because we’re fucking.”
“I’m not forgetting it, Dean. But I still want you to fuck me. We can have the rest of the fight later, ahhhhh, please, more, okay?
“Yeah, okay. Goody two-shoes, I’m better than everyone else but look at me beg for my brother’s cock in my ass, that’s you, right?”
Another finger inside Sam’s ass, a stroke against his prostate, and all he can say is, “Yeah, right, whatever you say, fine, just fuck me, come on, Dean”, as he grabs his brother’s hips hard enough to leave ugly, nasty bruises behind.
A lifetime of conditioning and a year or so of fucking has left Dean unable to refuse his brother’s request. Slicking up his cock, he guides it to Sam’s prepared hole and slides right in, still angry enough that it doesn’t bother him to see the controlled but clearly pained expression on Sam’s face.
Sam wants to fuck, all right, so they’re gonna fuck. It’s fast and brutal and there are no kisses, no whispered endearments, just Dean shoving his cock into Sam’s ass and Sam scratching and growling until they’re both almost there, so close.
“Want me to touch you, Sammy?”
“Fuck you, I’ll do it myself”, is the response, as Sam fists his own dick, quick strokes with a twist at the head as Deans’ thrusts get erratic. Both of them come within a minute of each other and collapse, exhausted and sore.
Sam’s the first to speak, after several minutes.
“Want me to say I’m sorry?”
“Are you?”
“No. Are you?”
“No. So let’s not say it. We’ll just go to sleep, all right? We can fight about this some more tomorrow.”
To Dean’s delight, Sam agrees. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
.
Sam’s half-asleep when Dean hears it.
“Love you. No matter what. Love you.”
Dean has no idea whether or not Sam knows he just said that out loud. He just turns to get a good grip around his brother’s waist and rests his head on Sam’s shoulder, falling into sleep himself.
Turns out, they aren’t nearly as mad once the sun comes up.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
W/C: ~1400
Summary: Sometimes they fight, sometimes they fuck, sometimes they do both.
A/N: written for ajap1991 at multifan_gift. Hope you like it!!!! Special thanks to sammichgirl for the beta.
The Impala isn’t big enough to contain the waves of angry energy radiating from Dean and Sam like competing tsunamis. Their shouting is too loud for this confined space.
Not that it’s ever stopped them before. Both brothers have screamed themselves hoarse across the front bench seat many times. They’d started in on it even when they were kids and the shouting was across the back seat, but their dad was always there with a warning glare; just a quiet, “Enough, boys” sufficient to shut them both up, let them go back to holding the current grudge in their brains instead of working it out.
Now, though, it’s just the two of them. And it’s better this way, it is, they’ve tried being silent before, shutting things down, not bringing up whatever it was that was bothering one or both of them. What a miserable failure that was, on so many fronts. They don’t do it anymore. If Sam gets pissed at Dean, or Dean gets pissed at Sam, it’s on.
They love each other, truly, as brothers and so much more, but it’s not like they weren’t ever going to fight. Hell, it’s not like they don’t fight on a fairly regular basis.
This one, though…this one’s turning ugly.
Dean guides the car into a motel parking lot, gets out to check them in. Sam waits in the car for him to return, but when he gets out of the car, he slams the door, hard. Just to be an asshole. Because he’s mad. Really fucking mad. And he knows slamming the door is going to grate on his brother’s nerves, so that’s what he does. On purpose.
Somehow they make their way from the car to the room without exchanging any words, but the minute the door shuts behind them, they’re right back where they were.
“You had to slam the door? Really? Is this a fucking temper tantrum, you giant baby?”
“Awww, here I thought you were pissed at me and you’re calling me baby” Sam replies, dripping sarcasm from every word that comes out of his mouth.
“Fuck you, Sam. Fuck you, and fuck your self-righteous holier-than-thou bullshit. I’m tired of it!” Dean wants to throw something.
He really, really wants to throw something.
So he throws the only item in his hand, which turns out to be the car keys.
They hit Sam directly on the left side of his forehead. Hard.
First blood tonight goes to Dean. Ding, ding, ding - give the man a prize.
He probably didn’t think his prize was going to be Sam moving toward him fast as lightning, knocking his head against the wall.
“Well, fuck you too, Dean. Fuck you, and fuck your I’m entitled to anything that catches my eye bullshit. I know we break the law every damn day for this job, but stealing from a goddamn witness? Some girl who never did anything wrong-”
“And exactly how the hell do you know that she never did anything wrong?”
“Shut the fuck up, Dean, Jesus, I mean, we just went to ask her some questions, she wasn’t a suspect, and she didn’t turn out to be the bad guy, but before we even knew that, you ganked her wallet? For real? When the hell did you turn into that guy?”
“Oh, I don’t know Sam, maybe when I was ten and pickpocketing total strangers so I could fucking feed you while Dad was off hunting. We take our cash where we can get it, and it’s not like that privileged bitch is gonna miss a few hundred bucks. You never had any problem using stolen credit cards and hustling pool, if I recall correctly.”
“You recall incorrectly, dick. Did I not at least attempt to try getting us honest work between hunts so we wouldn’t have to do that shit?”
Dean pushes back then, sending Sam a few feet across the room, where he lands with his ass on the edge of one of the beds. “Yeah, sure, I remember. But then you figured out there was no way around it. We commit crimes every damn day. Fraudulent credit cards. Theft. Breaking and entering. Impersonating law enforcement officers. Cheating pool and dart players out of their money.”
As he’s speaking, Dean’s moving. Forward. Toward Sam, dumbstruck and half-sitting, half-lying at the end of the bed closest to the door.
“Oh, and don’t forget incest”, he finishes as he climbs onto Sam’s lap and pushes him back onto the mattress. “Gay marriage legal in six whole states but incest…still a big giant lawbreaker. Change your mind about that, Sammy?”
Sam’s caught off guard now that Dean’s climbing on top of him. Nothing like a blanket of Dean to knock his brain totally offline. And Sam knows, he fucking knows that Dean is just trying to distract him, to change the subject, but it doesn’t matter because Sam has no willpower when his brother crawls over him, lays him out flat on the bed and hovers above him, mouth almost close enough to touch.
And he wants to say something else. He really, really does, he wants to keep trying to make his point but now he’s got a face-full of Dean and he can’t say anything except “No, I - I didn’t change my mind about…about that…”
So the fight’s not over. Not by a longshot.
Dean grabs a handful of Sam’s hair and kisses him, hard, clashing teeth and spit going everywhere, nothing sweet or romantic about it. He pushes him farther up the bed and starts stripping their clothes, first Sam’s then his own, until they’re there, skin on skin, grinding against each other.
Sam bucks up against him, digging his nails into Dean’s back until skin breaks and Dean grabs his hands and holds his wrists together above his head.
“Fuck, Sam, you can’t just…” and that’s all Dean manages to get out before he’s grabbing for the lube in his duffel on the floor. As he slides first one finger, and then two into his brother’s ass, he continues. “you can’t just accuse me of being a terrible person and then think we can forget it because we’re fucking.”
“I’m not forgetting it, Dean. But I still want you to fuck me. We can have the rest of the fight later, ahhhhh, please, more, okay?
“Yeah, okay. Goody two-shoes, I’m better than everyone else but look at me beg for my brother’s cock in my ass, that’s you, right?”
Another finger inside Sam’s ass, a stroke against his prostate, and all he can say is, “Yeah, right, whatever you say, fine, just fuck me, come on, Dean”, as he grabs his brother’s hips hard enough to leave ugly, nasty bruises behind.
A lifetime of conditioning and a year or so of fucking has left Dean unable to refuse his brother’s request. Slicking up his cock, he guides it to Sam’s prepared hole and slides right in, still angry enough that it doesn’t bother him to see the controlled but clearly pained expression on Sam’s face.
Sam wants to fuck, all right, so they’re gonna fuck. It’s fast and brutal and there are no kisses, no whispered endearments, just Dean shoving his cock into Sam’s ass and Sam scratching and growling until they’re both almost there, so close.
“Want me to touch you, Sammy?”
“Fuck you, I’ll do it myself”, is the response, as Sam fists his own dick, quick strokes with a twist at the head as Deans’ thrusts get erratic. Both of them come within a minute of each other and collapse, exhausted and sore.
Sam’s the first to speak, after several minutes.
“Want me to say I’m sorry?”
“Are you?”
“No. Are you?”
“No. So let’s not say it. We’ll just go to sleep, all right? We can fight about this some more tomorrow.”
To Dean’s delight, Sam agrees. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
.
Sam’s half-asleep when Dean hears it.
“Love you. No matter what. Love you.”
Dean has no idea whether or not Sam knows he just said that out loud. He just turns to get a good grip around his brother’s waist and rests his head on Sam’s shoulder, falling into sleep himself.
Turns out, they aren’t nearly as mad once the sun comes up.