back to square one.
title: Of Evil and Mario: The Return
word count: 4000-ish
rating: NC-17; for language and sexual content
pairing/characters: sam/dean, angel, spike, mention of lindsey mcdonald (SPN/AtS crossover)
disclaimer: i own not the supernatural and/or angel; the series and/or their characters.
a/n: set after Of Evil and Mario. might be read as a standalone. comments are welcomed, adored and loved. :)
warning: minor gender swap, mpreg, wing!fic, fraternal incest, vampires (gets funnier every time dean hears it). in conclusion: craaaaaaccckk; crackity crack crack.
Of Evil and Mario (post-epilogue)
Now, Dean has seen his fair share of beauty. Hell - he’d done his fair share of beauty. Maybe even others’. Sam’s, for instance. Wait - now why would he think of Sam at the weirdest time? Oh, you know.
Anyway. This…creature? Yeah. This creature - because it can’t be a girl; she’s more than a girl. Prettier, sexier, fuller, emitting the sort of sexual energy that Dean had only ever seen, felt in his…wait. Dean wouldn’t want to go there. Seriously. Now, where was I? Right. She (it?) was stretched out on his bed, naked and willing, long tumbling dark locks curling against her shoulders and way past, some obscuring her breasts…yowza that’s the finest set of tits Dean had ever seen, he could swear to it.
Long, long fingers twirl a strand of hair coyly, her pinky nudged between her plump, pink lips. Now, where has Dean seen that before? Well, it didn’t matter because her body language was all timid but her eyes? Her big, bulbous green eyes were telling some other story. Stories that made Dean’s dick jumped up and down in excitement. Kinda like Sam’s eyes.
Um. See? Weirdest times. Like this one, when Dean was already lowering himself on top of her, heart pumping blood that got to nowhere except down south. There’s this teeny tiny, high-pitched voice in a part of his brain that screamed succubus, succubus! But the bigger part of his brain (the one Sam referred to as his “downstairs” brain…okay, he needed to stop thinking about his brother now) was telling him that hey - you only get to live once! It’s either glorious sex with a soul-sucking, gorgeous creature or no sex at all. Dean loved how he’s always so sensible.
Deadly sex it was, then.
Halfway through, Dean really thought he would die from too much pleasure because damn this girl knew how to please a guy. It was as if she knew every trick in the book - when to use her fingers, when to use her tongue and lips and teeth, when to suck, when to lick, when to go slow, when to stop altogether. God Dean never thought he’d ever had anything that was as good as this. And the noises she made? It was like a combination of a virgin being fucked for the first time and an old time porn star that had had her way around. When she gasped, back arched and blunt fingernails raking his back bloody, Dean came so hard he passed out.
///
If you ask him, Dean would tell you that the last time he had a wet dream was way back when he was sixteen. You know, before he got to have the real thing every so often. If he was being honest, the last time would be last weekend. The one with Sam and his…no. Dean wouldn’t want to go there, remember?
Anyway, Dean could always tell whenever he woke up after one. First, obviously, there was the dried come all over himself and the sheets. Jeez, he came a lot when the dream was good. Then, there was that tingly sensation all along his spine, the cross between having arched his back over and over and the strain from the rippling orgasm. And then, of course, his dick was thanking him, already curving up against his belly. Now, all three signs were there, plus one. He was spooning this warm, smooth body, head buried in soft, aromatic dark hair. Dean knew enough that if he woke up feeling like he was having orgasm all freaking night long, this girl definitely deserved some snuggle time. Maybe even a promise for another round sometime later today. Heh.
What was weird was that he was certain he slept in his own bed, in the motel room he shared with Sam. He memorized every lump in the mattress, the crappy a/c’s chokes and grunts from staying here far too fucking long. But why wasn’t Sam doing his usual thing whenever Dean brought home a chick? That is, slamming the door hard enough to break the hinges going out for coffee or sitting on the bed watching tv that was cranked up way too high, humming his favorite techno music or whatever?
“Maybe because you’re cuddling him with your morning wood drilling his butt?”
Dean was pretty sure he could outrun a black dog if he wanted to but he had never moved as fast, scrambling off the bed, gloriously naked. “Jesus fuck, Sam! What are you doing in my bed?”
Sam yawned listlessly, propping himself up on two elbows. The sheet hitched down and Dean avoided his gaze from Sam’s cut abs. “You don’t remember, do you?” he looked annoyed. “You’re honestly telling me you don’t remember?”
“Remember what, exactly, Sammy?” Dean growled, snatching the boxers he tossed last night and putting them on, still trying not to look at how spent and fucked out his little brother looked.
“God, Dean,” Sam groaned, looking more pissed than ever. “You fucked me last night!”
“Uh,” Dean frowned nervously. “No, I didn’t. I had sex with this incredible brunette that gave me, like, the best blowjob ever in world’s history. And I was pretty sure she was a virgin because dude, she was wonderfully tight. I mean,” Dean stopped when Sam’s face went fiery red.
“Yeah,” Sam ducked his head. “That was me.”
“No way,” Dean laughed, the tension still evident in his tone. “Dude, you were petite! I mean, you were, like, this,” he held his hands about a foot apart, “big. And you had this amazing long, wavy-curly hair and tiny feet and girly lips and 34D tits!”
“Don’t you think I know all that?” Sam scowled. “Wait - how do you know what my bra size was?”
Despite the horror, Dean still managed to smirk. “Dude. Loads of references.”
“Whatever,” Sam groused, swinging one leg over the bed.
“Whoa, whoa. What are you doing? Are you wearing anything under there?”
Sam nearly laughed. “Are you kidding? You’ve seen everything last night, Dean.”
“Yeah. But you were a chick, Sam. I think there’s a difference. I might be scarred for life or something.”
“Yeah,” Sam said sarcastically. “I was fucked by my brother last night and you are scarred for life.”
“You’re not pinning this one on me, Sammy. You were a hot chick. What was I supposed to do? And how come you got turned into a girl and neither of us realize? How come you didn’t know?”
Sam sighed, fishing for the still damp towel at the foot of the bed and draping it across his front before getting out of the bed. “I don’t know, Dean. It’s like, I was whammied or something but I couldn’t control myself.”
“Really? Was that why you were doing that thing with your tongue? Jesus, Sammy. You were, like, screaming on the top of your lungs for me. Dean! Please, Dean, harder! I knew I would never tell a random chick my name.”
“You’re sick, you know that?” Sam made a face and walked to the bathroom.
Dean saw the lovebites all over his brother’s exposed skin and shivered, hardening even more at the memory of last night. “You clawed my back, dude. They better not scar or something ‘cause that would make a nice story the next time I want to get laid.”
Sam gave him the finger and shouted from the bathroom right before he slammed the door shut, “You’re wearing my boxers, by the way.”
Dean looked down at the faded dark blue underwear and was greeted by the sight of his own cock, straining against the fabric. He remembered distinctly that Sam was wearing dark blue lacy panties and had to press the heel of his palm against his erection, groaning in despair.
///
The rest of the day they worked on trying to figure out what the hell happened last night, totally separately. Sam avoided any touch and Dean avoided even eye contact. Nothing came up on Sam’s online research and Dean moved from checking John’s journal to going to the library to giving up altogether and scarfing Mexican food on the bed, watching reruns of some reality show.
Once in a while Sam commented on his findings and Dean just grumbled his reply, eyes locked on the screen.
“You know, you might want to pay a little more attention, Dean,” Sam said. “This involved the both of us.”
“Whatever, man,” Dean waved him off with an indifferent hand. “There’s nothing. I say we chalk it off as a very, very nasty nightmare and move on. It’s werewolf season, Sammy. Now that’s fun.”
“It’s not a nightmare, jerk,” Sam frowned. “I’m still sore. I hurt everywhere. Between my legs, my back, my neck, my nipples hurt like a bitch, Dean!”
Dean almost sprayed coffee out of his nose. “Really? I was that good, huh?”
“No. You were a pig. I didn’t know you had such a nipple kink.”
“Are you kidding?” Dean snickered. “You totally liked it. You know, if the way you wail and screech were any indication. Nearly busted my ear drums.”
“And you didn’t? Wasn’t I the best orgasm you had since, like, ever?” Sam cocked an eyebrow.
Dean made a face into his coffee cup. “I know you’re getting a kick from all this mind reading thing but Sammy, some things are just private. I just-don’t, man.”
Sam eyed the empty food wrapper scattered all over the carpet and felt his tummy grumbled. “Did you finish all the food?”
“Uh, no. I ate half my share. You stuffed your face with your share and half of mine.”
“Well, I’m hungry,” Sam whined, eyebrows drooped.
“You’re kidding, right?” Dean scoffed. “You ate like a fucking dragon not an hour ago!”
“Well, I am!” Sam growled, pushing himself out of his seat and stomped across the room. “I’m starving!”
Dean rolled his eyes and tossed his empty cup over his shoulder. “Fine, princess. I need more coffee anyway. We’ll eat out. Get your ass ready.”
“My sore ass,” Sam mumbled under his breath before the bathroom door shut behind him.
Okay. So Sam was acting sissy(er) for no reason. Well, not for no reason but yeah. Dean couldn’t care less. He did not make love to Sam. Wait - did he just say “make love”? Now that’s weird as fuck. But no, he fucked (made love to) a girl. A gorgeous one at that. There was nothing Sam could say or do or tell him to make him believe anything else. So he secretly believes his brother. But, yeah. Secret. So, he was saying, there was absolutely nothing that Sam-
“Deeeaaan!!!”
Huh. Déjà vu. The time when three-year-old Sammy fell down the toilet bowl. Boy, did Dean wish he had a camera or something back then.
“Dean!!!” Sam’s pitch was going higher and higher.
“What?” Dean groaned, pushing the bathroom door open.
Sam was standing in front of the mirror, face more horrified than Dean had ever seen him looked.
“What? Did you see your own face in the mirror or something?” Dean chuckled.
As soon as Sam turned around, Dean’s laughter died in his throat, making way to a choked gasp. “I think we have a huge problem, Dean.”
“I’ll say,” Dean breathed, staring down at Sam’s bulged belly underneath his holey blue t-shirt.
“Dean,” Sam whispered, voice hoarse. “I think you knocked me up.”
“Jesus. I knew I shouldn’t have gone in all commando like that.”
“And why the hell did you?” Sam cried, hand resting on his already achy back.
“What was I supposed to do, Sam? You were using your tongue in this wicked way and your tits kept brushing against me and…” Dean groaned, trying to stop the images from getting to his dick yet again. “Look, we have to move fast. What if this thing’s coming out of you soon? I mean, I banged you not six hours ago and you’re already looking like you’re four months along.”
“Are you saying I’m fat?”
Dean rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. “And you’re already with mood swings,” he muttered and turned around to leave. “This is going to be fun.”
“Dean?”
“What?”
“What the hell is that?”
“What?” he turned around to see Sam pointing at his back, face as horrified as the first time he came in. Twisting his neck, he saw what Sam was talking about. “Aw, fuck.”
///
So. It turned out Pastor Jim was right. You’re never too old to learn something. John used to disagree because learning Latin after Mary’s death? Probably one of the hardest things he ever had to do. Dean never thought that at twenty eight, he learnt that driving a muscle car with twenty pounds of five feet fucking wings sprouting out of your back is, well, a bitch. When his wings (they’re white - Jesus. Dean was hoping for black, at least. To match his baby but guessed beggars can’t be choosers. Not that he was hoping for any wings at all) grew to their full length or width or span or whatever, Sam offered to drive but fuck if Dean would allow his six month pregnant brother drove. He would tell you that he totally wasn’t acting like a super caring husband or anything but yeah, Sam is not going to drive. He would drive even if he had to stick one of his wings (there’s that word again - jeez) out the car’s window. Don’t get him wrong, though. He loves his brother like whoa. There’s no use denying that to you. Because you already know that. He was just…confused would be a good term. Freaked would be spot on.
“Where the hell are we going?” Sam asked around the hot dog oozing with mustard he was stuffing into his mouth.
Dean watched the yellow ooze dripped down, nearly biting his tongue to keep from screaming murder for the sake of his baby’s upholstery. Sam’s mood was swinging like crazy. “I could only think of one person to help us that’s not too far away.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Sam’s eyes narrowed.
Dean swallowed his irritation, forced himself to smile. “LA. Remember nine months ago we were there?”
“No,” Sam shook his head, longish hair swishing back and forth.
This time Dean swallowed the whimper from having to remember a vivid scene from last night regarding Sam’s luscious locks. “The time when I had to save your butt after being kidnapped and bumped into two retired vampires on the way?”
“I can’t remember, Dean,” Sam whined, sucking his fingers one by one, licking off the remnants of his hot dog.
Dean’s gaze was transfixed on the pink tongue and mouth. He swallowed yet again, tasted sand. “Seriously? You were kidnapped by a freaking demon, Sam.”
“What kind of demon?”
Dean shifted his attention, caught Sam peering at him through his bangs and returned it to his driving, trying hard not to swerve off the road from the blood rush southward. “You don’t remember? That Lindsey dude kidnapped you to…get to me.”
Sam let his eyelids fell shut lazily, sniveled a little under his breath. “For what?”
Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. “The demon that took over his body wanted to make me her king or something. I mean, it wanted me to father its offspring.”
“So this Lindsey guy wasn’t aware of what he’s doing? He just felt like fucking you?”
Dean frowned, blush creeping up his neck. “He…kinda knew me from way back and chose me to be the father or whatever,” he glanced over and Sam looked like he was seriously falling asleep. “I thought someone with an IQ as high as yours have some sort of a photographic memory or something. How is it that you don’t remember? It was pretty traumatizing, you know?”
It started small but then the grin got wider and wider until Sam couldn’t contain his laughter. “Of course I remember, jackass. I just wanted to see your face when you tell me the story.”
“Asshole,” Dean growled, poking his brother’s side.
Sam keeled over in his seat, clutching his tummy. “Ow!”
“Oh my God. I’m sorry, Sammy. Did I hurt you?” Dean sputtered, hand reaching out to touch Sam.
Sam straightened, face filled with mirth. “You’re so easy.”
“You’re…” Dean struggled, the feathers ruffling as he rolled his shoulder subconsciously, “mean.”
Sam chuckled, reached out and rubbed the edge of Dean’s right wing, fingers caressing the feathers. “You want to know the truth?”
Dean suppressed the moan at the tip of his tongue from having his wing fondled sensuously like that. “What?”
“I know, Dean.”
Sam’s eyes were dark, meeting Dean’s with an intensity that Dean recognized from last night. He felt his cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans promptly. “Know what?”
Sam’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, lips curling up into an alluring smile. “I’ve been reading you since you cut my hair in LA. You know, after The Lindsey Incident.”
That was how it sounded, too. With capital letters. Dean groaned, both embarrassed and frustrated that Sam wouldn’t stop teasing him about it maybe for the rest of their lives and that Sam knew what his feelings were back then and now. His dick kept hardening in his pants. And Dean was pretty sure Sam knew that too.
Fuck.
///
“Look, I can’t think of anyone else that could help. I mean, we obviously need help fast,” Dean said, surprisingly diplomatic as Angel eyed him from front to back to front again, no doubt taking stock of the white wings that fell down past his butt.
“This is just…too bizarre,” Angel said, gnawing his lower lip.
“Hey!” Dean snapped. “If vampires can have kids, a dude can sprout wings.”
“And got knocked up?” Spike asked around a chuckle, staring at Sam’s enlarged belly.
“Yes!” the brothers chorused.
“Wait - how did you know about my kid?” Angel interrupted, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Spike told me,” Dean waved a hand in Spike’s direction. “At first I thought it was yours and his, you know? The kid. Quite a misunderstanding. Anyway, it was a long story.”
Angel and Spike exchanged glances before turning away. “I don’t know how to fix it,” Angel said.
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “They know.”
“Oh,” Dean smirked smugly at the two vampires’ shocked expressions. “Didn’t I tell you Sammy reads minds now?”
“Great,” Spike muttered under his breath. “Well, I see you have the person who’s…pregnant and the person who impregnated her. I mean, him. So this can’t be too hard.”
Dean blushed. “How’d you know I was the one who-”
“Son,” Spike snorted. “I’ve lived for over two centuries. I’ve seen everything. I know.”
“It’s just a pixie doing,” Angel added. “Pretty…simple to undo, actually.”
“And how’d you know that? Don’t tell me it comes with the age too.”
Spike cleared his throat. “Uh. Long story.”
“Well,” Sam pursed his lips, stroking his belly. “What should we do?”
“Are you sure you want to undo it? Aren’t you, like, feeling connected to your baby or something?”
“Okay,” Sam frowned, putting on his angry puppy face. “First of all, it’s not a baby. And I’m not letting it burst out of any part of my body, period.”
“Well,” Angel said after a long beat. “Okay, then. You just have to…redo everything.”
Dean’s eyebrows did the wavery thing. “Redo what, exactly?”
“Whatever you were doing the night before. Re-act the-”
“Act of love?” Spike piped in.
“Copulation and whatnot,” Angel finished.
“Well, that is easy. Not at all awkward or anything,” Dean said sarcastically.
“Hey - you want to be stuck with freaking wings the rest of your life, that's fine! But you...planted this thing in me and now I want you to take it back whether you like it or not!” Sam snarled.
“Jeez, Sammy,” Dean scoffed dryly. “Fine.”
Spike looked amazed. “Wow. That was easy.”
Angel leaned over, whispered, “You almost refuse to do it.”
But you don’t want to know about that.
///
“So, we’re doing this? I mean-” Dean could barely get his words out, trying to shut the door behind them when he was hit with Sam’s t-shirt in the face.
“Come on, Dean. We’ve got no time,” Sam whined, already naked and climbing the bed.
Dean watched him a bit before shrugging, wings still heavy on his back. “Okay.”
Dean kneeled on the edge, cut out t-shirt crumpled at the foot of the bed and he was waiting for Sam’s invitation. So of course Sam got even more pissed and tugged him forward with the end of his dangling belt and smashed their mouths together hungrily. Dean remembered from the other night that girly Sam liked to moan against their pressed mouth and found out that this Sam did to. His dick immediately twitched in Sam’s grasp.
“Are you feeling anything?”
Sam whimpered, breathing hard against Dean’s neck, mouthing and nipping at the smooth skin there. “God, yes.”
“No. I mean, do you think you’re turning into a chick again or something? ‘Cause, you know, that would be convenient. I mean, not that I don’t want you if you’re not or anything-”
Sam silenced him with his eager mouth, pushing his tongue inside and moaning at the back of his throat. Dean traced the distended skin of his brother’s stomach, inching upwards and tweaking a nipple. Sam mewled and Dean grinned, recalling how Sam reacted when he was a girl. He trailed with his tongue and lapped at a hardened bud and Sam bucked, hard cock pressing against Dean’s skin, long fingers gripping Dean tighter still.
“How,” Dean gasped as Sam ran a thumb over the head of his cock. “How are we doing this? I mean, I have these fucking wings and you…I mean, your belly…”
Sam smiled, licked at Dean’s lower lip. “Maybe…maybe I could be on top?”
“Yeah, that’ll work,” Dean smiled back, putting his attention back on suckling Sam’s rosy nipples. Just as Sam was arching and rubbing his leaking dick against Dean, he stopped. “Wait. Angel said we should redo what we did the night before. Technically, I was the one who…you know. What if you being on top won’t work?”
“Well, it’ll be hard for us to do it. Not impossible but hard. We have to try,” Sam’s lips pursed like he was thinking hard. “We try doing it the easy way and if that doesn’t work, we’ll switch.”
Dean was never more thankful that his brother was such a genius. “Okay,” he grinned, eyes burning with excitement.
So they did it the easy way. And Dean still came so hard he almost passed out like the other night but Sam, the eager beaver, wouldn’t let him. Licked and sucked him back to hardness so they could do it the other way around. You know, just in case.
///
Dean snuggled deeper against the downy hair, sniffing the banana-papaya flavored shampoo Sam religiously used…wait. Sam?
“Dean,” came his brother’s voice, rigid. “The fuck are you doing, man?”
Dean stared at the back of Sam’s neck, hands slipping from its place on Sam’s hard-ridged tummy to the smooth expanse of his side. “What?” he mumbled groggily.
“Why the fuck are you snuggling me in my bed?”
“Huh?” Dean grumbled, propping himself up on one elbow, head throbbing acutely. Well, to be honest, it wasn’t just his head but, yeah. Pressing matter. Sam was looking crabbier than usual.
“Seriously, man. What are you doing?”
Well. That was officially the best, most erotic dream Dean had ever had.
The smile was tiny, almost invisible but Dean saw it anyway. The fucker’s screwing with him. And reading his mind.
“Bitch,” Dean growled, jabbing a long finger in between Sam’s ribs, his most ticklish spot.
Sam let out this tiny, sexy, keening gasp.
“So, the sounds are all you, huh?” Dean snickered.
“Jerk,” Sam growled in return, elbowing Dean in his stomach, brushing against his hardness en route. Turning his head, he found Dean’s green-gold eyes totally dark, liquid with want. “God, you're unbelievable,” he murmured, huge hand trailing down.
word count: 4000-ish
rating: NC-17; for language and sexual content
pairing/characters: sam/dean, angel, spike, mention of lindsey mcdonald (SPN/AtS crossover)
disclaimer: i own not the supernatural and/or angel; the series and/or their characters.
a/n: set after Of Evil and Mario. might be read as a standalone. comments are welcomed, adored and loved. :)
warning: minor gender swap, mpreg, wing!fic, fraternal incest, vampires (gets funnier every time dean hears it). in conclusion: craaaaaaccckk; crackity crack crack.
Of Evil and Mario (post-epilogue)
Now, Dean has seen his fair share of beauty. Hell - he’d done his fair share of beauty. Maybe even others’. Sam’s, for instance. Wait - now why would he think of Sam at the weirdest time? Oh, you know.
Anyway. This…creature? Yeah. This creature - because it can’t be a girl; she’s more than a girl. Prettier, sexier, fuller, emitting the sort of sexual energy that Dean had only ever seen, felt in his…wait. Dean wouldn’t want to go there. Seriously. Now, where was I? Right. She (it?) was stretched out on his bed, naked and willing, long tumbling dark locks curling against her shoulders and way past, some obscuring her breasts…yowza that’s the finest set of tits Dean had ever seen, he could swear to it.
Long, long fingers twirl a strand of hair coyly, her pinky nudged between her plump, pink lips. Now, where has Dean seen that before? Well, it didn’t matter because her body language was all timid but her eyes? Her big, bulbous green eyes were telling some other story. Stories that made Dean’s dick jumped up and down in excitement. Kinda like Sam’s eyes.
Um. See? Weirdest times. Like this one, when Dean was already lowering himself on top of her, heart pumping blood that got to nowhere except down south. There’s this teeny tiny, high-pitched voice in a part of his brain that screamed succubus, succubus! But the bigger part of his brain (the one Sam referred to as his “downstairs” brain…okay, he needed to stop thinking about his brother now) was telling him that hey - you only get to live once! It’s either glorious sex with a soul-sucking, gorgeous creature or no sex at all. Dean loved how he’s always so sensible.
Deadly sex it was, then.
Halfway through, Dean really thought he would die from too much pleasure because damn this girl knew how to please a guy. It was as if she knew every trick in the book - when to use her fingers, when to use her tongue and lips and teeth, when to suck, when to lick, when to go slow, when to stop altogether. God Dean never thought he’d ever had anything that was as good as this. And the noises she made? It was like a combination of a virgin being fucked for the first time and an old time porn star that had had her way around. When she gasped, back arched and blunt fingernails raking his back bloody, Dean came so hard he passed out.
///
If you ask him, Dean would tell you that the last time he had a wet dream was way back when he was sixteen. You know, before he got to have the real thing every so often. If he was being honest, the last time would be last weekend. The one with Sam and his…no. Dean wouldn’t want to go there, remember?
Anyway, Dean could always tell whenever he woke up after one. First, obviously, there was the dried come all over himself and the sheets. Jeez, he came a lot when the dream was good. Then, there was that tingly sensation all along his spine, the cross between having arched his back over and over and the strain from the rippling orgasm. And then, of course, his dick was thanking him, already curving up against his belly. Now, all three signs were there, plus one. He was spooning this warm, smooth body, head buried in soft, aromatic dark hair. Dean knew enough that if he woke up feeling like he was having orgasm all freaking night long, this girl definitely deserved some snuggle time. Maybe even a promise for another round sometime later today. Heh.
What was weird was that he was certain he slept in his own bed, in the motel room he shared with Sam. He memorized every lump in the mattress, the crappy a/c’s chokes and grunts from staying here far too fucking long. But why wasn’t Sam doing his usual thing whenever Dean brought home a chick? That is, slamming the door hard enough to break the hinges going out for coffee or sitting on the bed watching tv that was cranked up way too high, humming his favorite techno music or whatever?
“Maybe because you’re cuddling him with your morning wood drilling his butt?”
Dean was pretty sure he could outrun a black dog if he wanted to but he had never moved as fast, scrambling off the bed, gloriously naked. “Jesus fuck, Sam! What are you doing in my bed?”
Sam yawned listlessly, propping himself up on two elbows. The sheet hitched down and Dean avoided his gaze from Sam’s cut abs. “You don’t remember, do you?” he looked annoyed. “You’re honestly telling me you don’t remember?”
“Remember what, exactly, Sammy?” Dean growled, snatching the boxers he tossed last night and putting them on, still trying not to look at how spent and fucked out his little brother looked.
“God, Dean,” Sam groaned, looking more pissed than ever. “You fucked me last night!”
“Uh,” Dean frowned nervously. “No, I didn’t. I had sex with this incredible brunette that gave me, like, the best blowjob ever in world’s history. And I was pretty sure she was a virgin because dude, she was wonderfully tight. I mean,” Dean stopped when Sam’s face went fiery red.
“Yeah,” Sam ducked his head. “That was me.”
“No way,” Dean laughed, the tension still evident in his tone. “Dude, you were petite! I mean, you were, like, this,” he held his hands about a foot apart, “big. And you had this amazing long, wavy-curly hair and tiny feet and girly lips and 34D tits!”
“Don’t you think I know all that?” Sam scowled. “Wait - how do you know what my bra size was?”
Despite the horror, Dean still managed to smirk. “Dude. Loads of references.”
“Whatever,” Sam groused, swinging one leg over the bed.
“Whoa, whoa. What are you doing? Are you wearing anything under there?”
Sam nearly laughed. “Are you kidding? You’ve seen everything last night, Dean.”
“Yeah. But you were a chick, Sam. I think there’s a difference. I might be scarred for life or something.”
“Yeah,” Sam said sarcastically. “I was fucked by my brother last night and you are scarred for life.”
“You’re not pinning this one on me, Sammy. You were a hot chick. What was I supposed to do? And how come you got turned into a girl and neither of us realize? How come you didn’t know?”
Sam sighed, fishing for the still damp towel at the foot of the bed and draping it across his front before getting out of the bed. “I don’t know, Dean. It’s like, I was whammied or something but I couldn’t control myself.”
“Really? Was that why you were doing that thing with your tongue? Jesus, Sammy. You were, like, screaming on the top of your lungs for me. Dean! Please, Dean, harder! I knew I would never tell a random chick my name.”
“You’re sick, you know that?” Sam made a face and walked to the bathroom.
Dean saw the lovebites all over his brother’s exposed skin and shivered, hardening even more at the memory of last night. “You clawed my back, dude. They better not scar or something ‘cause that would make a nice story the next time I want to get laid.”
Sam gave him the finger and shouted from the bathroom right before he slammed the door shut, “You’re wearing my boxers, by the way.”
Dean looked down at the faded dark blue underwear and was greeted by the sight of his own cock, straining against the fabric. He remembered distinctly that Sam was wearing dark blue lacy panties and had to press the heel of his palm against his erection, groaning in despair.
///
The rest of the day they worked on trying to figure out what the hell happened last night, totally separately. Sam avoided any touch and Dean avoided even eye contact. Nothing came up on Sam’s online research and Dean moved from checking John’s journal to going to the library to giving up altogether and scarfing Mexican food on the bed, watching reruns of some reality show.
Once in a while Sam commented on his findings and Dean just grumbled his reply, eyes locked on the screen.
“You know, you might want to pay a little more attention, Dean,” Sam said. “This involved the both of us.”
“Whatever, man,” Dean waved him off with an indifferent hand. “There’s nothing. I say we chalk it off as a very, very nasty nightmare and move on. It’s werewolf season, Sammy. Now that’s fun.”
“It’s not a nightmare, jerk,” Sam frowned. “I’m still sore. I hurt everywhere. Between my legs, my back, my neck, my nipples hurt like a bitch, Dean!”
Dean almost sprayed coffee out of his nose. “Really? I was that good, huh?”
“No. You were a pig. I didn’t know you had such a nipple kink.”
“Are you kidding?” Dean snickered. “You totally liked it. You know, if the way you wail and screech were any indication. Nearly busted my ear drums.”
“And you didn’t? Wasn’t I the best orgasm you had since, like, ever?” Sam cocked an eyebrow.
Dean made a face into his coffee cup. “I know you’re getting a kick from all this mind reading thing but Sammy, some things are just private. I just-don’t, man.”
Sam eyed the empty food wrapper scattered all over the carpet and felt his tummy grumbled. “Did you finish all the food?”
“Uh, no. I ate half my share. You stuffed your face with your share and half of mine.”
“Well, I’m hungry,” Sam whined, eyebrows drooped.
“You’re kidding, right?” Dean scoffed. “You ate like a fucking dragon not an hour ago!”
“Well, I am!” Sam growled, pushing himself out of his seat and stomped across the room. “I’m starving!”
Dean rolled his eyes and tossed his empty cup over his shoulder. “Fine, princess. I need more coffee anyway. We’ll eat out. Get your ass ready.”
“My sore ass,” Sam mumbled under his breath before the bathroom door shut behind him.
Okay. So Sam was acting sissy(er) for no reason. Well, not for no reason but yeah. Dean couldn’t care less. He did not make love to Sam. Wait - did he just say “make love”? Now that’s weird as fuck. But no, he fucked (made love to) a girl. A gorgeous one at that. There was nothing Sam could say or do or tell him to make him believe anything else. So he secretly believes his brother. But, yeah. Secret. So, he was saying, there was absolutely nothing that Sam-
“Deeeaaan!!!”
Huh. Déjà vu. The time when three-year-old Sammy fell down the toilet bowl. Boy, did Dean wish he had a camera or something back then.
“Dean!!!” Sam’s pitch was going higher and higher.
“What?” Dean groaned, pushing the bathroom door open.
Sam was standing in front of the mirror, face more horrified than Dean had ever seen him looked.
“What? Did you see your own face in the mirror or something?” Dean chuckled.
As soon as Sam turned around, Dean’s laughter died in his throat, making way to a choked gasp. “I think we have a huge problem, Dean.”
“I’ll say,” Dean breathed, staring down at Sam’s bulged belly underneath his holey blue t-shirt.
“Dean,” Sam whispered, voice hoarse. “I think you knocked me up.”
“Jesus. I knew I shouldn’t have gone in all commando like that.”
“And why the hell did you?” Sam cried, hand resting on his already achy back.
“What was I supposed to do, Sam? You were using your tongue in this wicked way and your tits kept brushing against me and…” Dean groaned, trying to stop the images from getting to his dick yet again. “Look, we have to move fast. What if this thing’s coming out of you soon? I mean, I banged you not six hours ago and you’re already looking like you’re four months along.”
“Are you saying I’m fat?”
Dean rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. “And you’re already with mood swings,” he muttered and turned around to leave. “This is going to be fun.”
“Dean?”
“What?”
“What the hell is that?”
“What?” he turned around to see Sam pointing at his back, face as horrified as the first time he came in. Twisting his neck, he saw what Sam was talking about. “Aw, fuck.”
///
So. It turned out Pastor Jim was right. You’re never too old to learn something. John used to disagree because learning Latin after Mary’s death? Probably one of the hardest things he ever had to do. Dean never thought that at twenty eight, he learnt that driving a muscle car with twenty pounds of five feet fucking wings sprouting out of your back is, well, a bitch. When his wings (they’re white - Jesus. Dean was hoping for black, at least. To match his baby but guessed beggars can’t be choosers. Not that he was hoping for any wings at all) grew to their full length or width or span or whatever, Sam offered to drive but fuck if Dean would allow his six month pregnant brother drove. He would tell you that he totally wasn’t acting like a super caring husband or anything but yeah, Sam is not going to drive. He would drive even if he had to stick one of his wings (there’s that word again - jeez) out the car’s window. Don’t get him wrong, though. He loves his brother like whoa. There’s no use denying that to you. Because you already know that. He was just…confused would be a good term. Freaked would be spot on.
“Where the hell are we going?” Sam asked around the hot dog oozing with mustard he was stuffing into his mouth.
Dean watched the yellow ooze dripped down, nearly biting his tongue to keep from screaming murder for the sake of his baby’s upholstery. Sam’s mood was swinging like crazy. “I could only think of one person to help us that’s not too far away.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Sam’s eyes narrowed.
Dean swallowed his irritation, forced himself to smile. “LA. Remember nine months ago we were there?”
“No,” Sam shook his head, longish hair swishing back and forth.
This time Dean swallowed the whimper from having to remember a vivid scene from last night regarding Sam’s luscious locks. “The time when I had to save your butt after being kidnapped and bumped into two retired vampires on the way?”
“I can’t remember, Dean,” Sam whined, sucking his fingers one by one, licking off the remnants of his hot dog.
Dean’s gaze was transfixed on the pink tongue and mouth. He swallowed yet again, tasted sand. “Seriously? You were kidnapped by a freaking demon, Sam.”
“What kind of demon?”
Dean shifted his attention, caught Sam peering at him through his bangs and returned it to his driving, trying hard not to swerve off the road from the blood rush southward. “You don’t remember? That Lindsey dude kidnapped you to…get to me.”
Sam let his eyelids fell shut lazily, sniveled a little under his breath. “For what?”
Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. “The demon that took over his body wanted to make me her king or something. I mean, it wanted me to father its offspring.”
“So this Lindsey guy wasn’t aware of what he’s doing? He just felt like fucking you?”
Dean frowned, blush creeping up his neck. “He…kinda knew me from way back and chose me to be the father or whatever,” he glanced over and Sam looked like he was seriously falling asleep. “I thought someone with an IQ as high as yours have some sort of a photographic memory or something. How is it that you don’t remember? It was pretty traumatizing, you know?”
It started small but then the grin got wider and wider until Sam couldn’t contain his laughter. “Of course I remember, jackass. I just wanted to see your face when you tell me the story.”
“Asshole,” Dean growled, poking his brother’s side.
Sam keeled over in his seat, clutching his tummy. “Ow!”
“Oh my God. I’m sorry, Sammy. Did I hurt you?” Dean sputtered, hand reaching out to touch Sam.
Sam straightened, face filled with mirth. “You’re so easy.”
“You’re…” Dean struggled, the feathers ruffling as he rolled his shoulder subconsciously, “mean.”
Sam chuckled, reached out and rubbed the edge of Dean’s right wing, fingers caressing the feathers. “You want to know the truth?”
Dean suppressed the moan at the tip of his tongue from having his wing fondled sensuously like that. “What?”
“I know, Dean.”
Sam’s eyes were dark, meeting Dean’s with an intensity that Dean recognized from last night. He felt his cock pressing against the zipper of his jeans promptly. “Know what?”
Sam’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, lips curling up into an alluring smile. “I’ve been reading you since you cut my hair in LA. You know, after The Lindsey Incident.”
That was how it sounded, too. With capital letters. Dean groaned, both embarrassed and frustrated that Sam wouldn’t stop teasing him about it maybe for the rest of their lives and that Sam knew what his feelings were back then and now. His dick kept hardening in his pants. And Dean was pretty sure Sam knew that too.
Fuck.
///
“Look, I can’t think of anyone else that could help. I mean, we obviously need help fast,” Dean said, surprisingly diplomatic as Angel eyed him from front to back to front again, no doubt taking stock of the white wings that fell down past his butt.
“This is just…too bizarre,” Angel said, gnawing his lower lip.
“Hey!” Dean snapped. “If vampires can have kids, a dude can sprout wings.”
“And got knocked up?” Spike asked around a chuckle, staring at Sam’s enlarged belly.
“Yes!” the brothers chorused.
“Wait - how did you know about my kid?” Angel interrupted, crossing his arms across his chest.
“Spike told me,” Dean waved a hand in Spike’s direction. “At first I thought it was yours and his, you know? The kid. Quite a misunderstanding. Anyway, it was a long story.”
Angel and Spike exchanged glances before turning away. “I don’t know how to fix it,” Angel said.
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “They know.”
“Oh,” Dean smirked smugly at the two vampires’ shocked expressions. “Didn’t I tell you Sammy reads minds now?”
“Great,” Spike muttered under his breath. “Well, I see you have the person who’s…pregnant and the person who impregnated her. I mean, him. So this can’t be too hard.”
Dean blushed. “How’d you know I was the one who-”
“Son,” Spike snorted. “I’ve lived for over two centuries. I’ve seen everything. I know.”
“It’s just a pixie doing,” Angel added. “Pretty…simple to undo, actually.”
“And how’d you know that? Don’t tell me it comes with the age too.”
Spike cleared his throat. “Uh. Long story.”
“Well,” Sam pursed his lips, stroking his belly. “What should we do?”
“Are you sure you want to undo it? Aren’t you, like, feeling connected to your baby or something?”
“Okay,” Sam frowned, putting on his angry puppy face. “First of all, it’s not a baby. And I’m not letting it burst out of any part of my body, period.”
“Well,” Angel said after a long beat. “Okay, then. You just have to…redo everything.”
Dean’s eyebrows did the wavery thing. “Redo what, exactly?”
“Whatever you were doing the night before. Re-act the-”
“Act of love?” Spike piped in.
“Copulation and whatnot,” Angel finished.
“Well, that is easy. Not at all awkward or anything,” Dean said sarcastically.
“Hey - you want to be stuck with freaking wings the rest of your life, that's fine! But you...planted this thing in me and now I want you to take it back whether you like it or not!” Sam snarled.
“Jeez, Sammy,” Dean scoffed dryly. “Fine.”
Spike looked amazed. “Wow. That was easy.”
Angel leaned over, whispered, “You almost refuse to do it.”
But you don’t want to know about that.
///
“So, we’re doing this? I mean-” Dean could barely get his words out, trying to shut the door behind them when he was hit with Sam’s t-shirt in the face.
“Come on, Dean. We’ve got no time,” Sam whined, already naked and climbing the bed.
Dean watched him a bit before shrugging, wings still heavy on his back. “Okay.”
Dean kneeled on the edge, cut out t-shirt crumpled at the foot of the bed and he was waiting for Sam’s invitation. So of course Sam got even more pissed and tugged him forward with the end of his dangling belt and smashed their mouths together hungrily. Dean remembered from the other night that girly Sam liked to moan against their pressed mouth and found out that this Sam did to. His dick immediately twitched in Sam’s grasp.
“Are you feeling anything?”
Sam whimpered, breathing hard against Dean’s neck, mouthing and nipping at the smooth skin there. “God, yes.”
“No. I mean, do you think you’re turning into a chick again or something? ‘Cause, you know, that would be convenient. I mean, not that I don’t want you if you’re not or anything-”
Sam silenced him with his eager mouth, pushing his tongue inside and moaning at the back of his throat. Dean traced the distended skin of his brother’s stomach, inching upwards and tweaking a nipple. Sam mewled and Dean grinned, recalling how Sam reacted when he was a girl. He trailed with his tongue and lapped at a hardened bud and Sam bucked, hard cock pressing against Dean’s skin, long fingers gripping Dean tighter still.
“How,” Dean gasped as Sam ran a thumb over the head of his cock. “How are we doing this? I mean, I have these fucking wings and you…I mean, your belly…”
Sam smiled, licked at Dean’s lower lip. “Maybe…maybe I could be on top?”
“Yeah, that’ll work,” Dean smiled back, putting his attention back on suckling Sam’s rosy nipples. Just as Sam was arching and rubbing his leaking dick against Dean, he stopped. “Wait. Angel said we should redo what we did the night before. Technically, I was the one who…you know. What if you being on top won’t work?”
“Well, it’ll be hard for us to do it. Not impossible but hard. We have to try,” Sam’s lips pursed like he was thinking hard. “We try doing it the easy way and if that doesn’t work, we’ll switch.”
Dean was never more thankful that his brother was such a genius. “Okay,” he grinned, eyes burning with excitement.
So they did it the easy way. And Dean still came so hard he almost passed out like the other night but Sam, the eager beaver, wouldn’t let him. Licked and sucked him back to hardness so they could do it the other way around. You know, just in case.
///
Dean snuggled deeper against the downy hair, sniffing the banana-papaya flavored shampoo Sam religiously used…wait. Sam?
“Dean,” came his brother’s voice, rigid. “The fuck are you doing, man?”
Dean stared at the back of Sam’s neck, hands slipping from its place on Sam’s hard-ridged tummy to the smooth expanse of his side. “What?” he mumbled groggily.
“Why the fuck are you snuggling me in my bed?”
“Huh?” Dean grumbled, propping himself up on one elbow, head throbbing acutely. Well, to be honest, it wasn’t just his head but, yeah. Pressing matter. Sam was looking crabbier than usual.
“Seriously, man. What are you doing?”
Well. That was officially the best, most erotic dream Dean had ever had.
The smile was tiny, almost invisible but Dean saw it anyway. The fucker’s screwing with him. And reading his mind.
“Bitch,” Dean growled, jabbing a long finger in between Sam’s ribs, his most ticklish spot.
Sam let out this tiny, sexy, keening gasp.
“So, the sounds are all you, huh?” Dean snickered.
“Jerk,” Sam growled in return, elbowing Dean in his stomach, brushing against his hardness en route. Turning his head, he found Dean’s green-gold eyes totally dark, liquid with want. “God, you're unbelievable,” he murmured, huge hand trailing down.