The Golden Nugget, Part 1/2, (Sam/OFCs, Sam/Dean, NC-17)
I find it kind of fitting that I get to post this fic on the day the new James Bond comes out. =D
Why? Well this is the result of a challenge at herogetstheguy , and my source of inspiration (if you squint real hard and turn your head sideways) was Casino Royale. My first foray into James Bond inspired-fic was last year's crackish Dr. Gay, with Jensen as Bond, but today the focus is on Winchester. Sam Winchester.
Oh and it is my first explicit Wincest fic ever. eeep.
Title: The Golden Nugget (part 1, part 2 linked at the bottom)
Rating/Word count: NC-17, 18 000 words split in 2 parts
Pairing/Characters: Sam/OFCs, Sam/Dean
Notes/Disclaimers: Spoiler warning for episodes up to 4.03. Not mine, never were. Fiction alert! I had great help on this, first by Sue and then zelda_zee did a KICK ASS beta. thank her, really. AND those AMAZING graphics? They are all keyweegirlie 's doing, please note how much she rocks!
Summary: Sam just needs a case to do on his own. Maybe two.
.
As he slowly moved his hand under the water, Sam was mesmerized by the delicate swirls of blue left in its wake and by how his skin appeared to glow. Joining a night kayak tour on the Laguna Grande had been more of a means to an end, a cover story if he was ever asked questions, but he had rarely seen anything as beautiful.
A bit to his right, the group of tourists was obviously as fascinated as he was by the bioluminescent phenomenon. Sam knew it was due to the tiny dynoflagellate plankton swirling under the surface, but it still brought to mind something supernatural, although in his experience the supernatural was rarely this peaceful.
To break from the group unnoticed he needed a distraction of some sort, so as everyone was curiously looking towards a girl insisting in a panicky voice that a shrimp had just jumped in her kayak, Sam used his paddle to swiftly throw a bit of water on a group of teens. Predictably, they started to splash each other and Sam quickly backed towards the mangrove channel, grinning when he heard a loud splash followed by victorious bellows. Obviously, someone had taken a plunge in the warm, shallow water.
Once out of view of the others, Sam took a moment to appreciate the half moon that shone above and the sounds of frogs and insects surrounding him before consulting his GPS and silently paddling towards his objective. He pulled his kayak onto the shore, leaving it well hidden in the luxurious vegetation next to the path he now needed to follow. It should be clear all the way to the little shed set behind the hacienda; he would approach it from the back.
It had been hard to convince Dean to let him take this gig by himself. He loved his brother, he really did, but Dean’s constant hovering and his insistence on putting himself between Sam and danger, clearly a part of his DNA, had taken its toll. Sam was an adult, a seasoned hunter, way more powerful that most people he knew even imagined, and he just longed to do something by himself again. To prove to Dean, or possibly to himself, that he could do it.
There were other reasons, but he didn't want to think about them too much; if he didn't maybe they would just disappear. Yeah, right. Like wanting to have sex with your brother was some kind of temporary affliction.
The necessity of flying had helped convince Dean to stay behind though, so here Sam was: on his own in Puerto Rico and twenty feet away from facing pure voodoo. The case built by Ellen and her contact in San Juan was pretty clear: a well-known Haitian bokor was definitely raising zombies in Fajardo.
Sam had hunted alone before, of course. In those long months after Broward County and the dreadful summer just after that, when everything was off-kilter because Dean was gone - gone and nothing was bringing him back. Sam didn't wish to revert to solo all the time, but he needed a breather before he strangled his brother; he knew this break would help him clear his mind. Deep down, if he was honest, he missed being totally in control of every detail. And even if he tried not to think about it, there was always a little temptation that made him long to use his powers, just once, for something good. It scared Sam to admit it, a gnawing guilt and a suspicion that he could be going down the wrong path once again. But he’d resolved that he wouldn’t do it, not when Dean finally trusted him again.
When Sam reached the clearing, flickering lights were making the small windows of the shed glow yellow, and he could hear a constant, monotonous murmur that was probably the priest's incantation. He gripped the handle of his machete and took a moment to center himself, inhaling deeply. Opening his eyes, he walked to the shed and finding the door locked, he took the direct route and just kicked it in. Predictably, the old wood gave way easily and the door opened with a loud crack, startling the elderly priest who scrambled up and backed towards the wall behind him.
Tall and wiry, looking strong for seventy years old, it was without a doubt Monsieur Didier - officially the Arroyo's gardener, but in fact he was busier raising the dead at night than planting hibiscus. He was highly feared, and for a second as Sam made eye contact he was reminded of a demon, but there was a distinct rim of white around the dark irises. The priest was starting to incant again, louder and more fervently. From the corner of his eyes, Sam saw the corpse laying to the side of the altar start to stir.
"Stop!" Sam yelled.
Of course the priest didn't listen. They never listened. The corpse slowly stood up and the old man laughed, delighted. He said something in what sounded like French and the zombie, once a middle-aged man, looked at Sam with empty eyes and moved towards him.
"Dammit, I said stop! Now it's going to get messy."
Sadly there was no other way to go, so Sam entered the shed, raised his machete, and brought it down with enough force to chop the zombie’s head right off. It wavered, as if it was thinking of still moving forward, but then it crumpled to a heap on the floor. There was movement from the back of the shed and out of the corner of his eye Sam saw the light of the oil lamp shine on the blade of the knife just as Monsieur Didier threw it in his direction. He could have ducked, but adrenaline had honed his senses, so Sam flicked his wrist without giving it a conscious thought and the knife never reached him, stopping in mid-air and then turning on itself. The old man opened his mouth in shock.
"You don't want to mess with me, old man. Understand?" Sam was furious at himself. He had not wanted it to come to this, but it was like a switch had flipped on without his consent.
The priest, who now knew he was facing forces to be reckoned with, raised his hands. His tone was plaintive as he begged for mercy.
"Oui, oui... yes. Pitié, s'il vous plait, do not kill me, please."
It was tempting, to kill him, because there was no guarantee that the priest would never try this and anything else he was doing with black magic again. As he thought about it, Sam let the knife come to him, and then threw it out the door. He kicked the altar, smashing bowls and figurines, setting fire to most of the stuff, including the man's book, full of notes in the margins. Sam watched it burn, satisfied to see the old man cower away, wringing his hands.
"I swear, never again. Promis, promis."
Sam looked at him intently, searching his eyes.
"Why should I trust you?"
There was no answer to that and the sorcerer knew it. He started babbling, mostly in Creole or French, and Sam stopped him after a while.
"Okay, okay, I'll let you live." Sam approached him and stood as tall and intimidating as he knew how to be. He could almost smell the fear, could see it plain as day. He continued softly. "But you just step sideways funny? I'll know. And I'll come back for you. Understood?"
Monsieur Didier nodded, relief showing as he smiled; for a second Sam worried he would try to kiss his hands or something.
"Yes, merci! yes! I understand. I will be good. No more, no more."
"Good."
Sam turned and wiped his machete on the leg of the decapitated corpse. He was about to leave when he was stopped by a cough obviously meant to attract his attention. Monsieur Didier looked at him, curiosity mixed with respect now.
"Hmm... who?"
The passport said Daniel Wroughton but Sam went with the truth.
"Winchester. Sam Winchester."
It's not that he expected this man to know who he was or anything, but if he contacted the spirit world, Sam’s name could scare him a bit. Might as well use the fact that he was labeled as a possible Anti-Christ to his advantage for once. He left the old man in the shed and went back to his kayak, slid in, and as quickly as he could paddled towards the lagoon to rejoin the group.
Sam had been gone for maybe thirty minutes, tops, but it seemed his absence had been noticed. One of the two guides, an absolutely gorgeous tall brunette, met him right at the entrance of the canal.
"There you are!"
Sam pasted on an embarrassed expression, hoped he sold it.
"Yeah, sorry, had to take care of an emergency."
She smiled, then turned her kayak around to go back toward the group.
"It's okay. You should have warned us, that's all."
"Were you worried about me, Manuela?"
She turned to look at him over her shoulder, grinning.
"A big, guy strong guy like you? Nah." She deliberately slowed down until they were side by side. "What's your name, rico?"
He extended his hand and met her flirtatious smile full on.
"I'm Sam. Enchanted."
She shook but didn't let go immediately; in fact she used the grip to pull herself closer until their boats knocked against each other. Up close he could smell the rich floral aroma coming from her shining black hair, and her perfect white teeth shone in the soft moonlight as she looked up at him.
"My pleasure, Sam. What are you doing after the tour?"
He shrugged and trailed a finger along her forearm, felt her shiver. It had been so long since he had been with someone just for fun - since he’d thought about himself first. Since Dean had not been there to blur the lines of desire and want.
"I don't know yet. I'm on my own. Any suggestions?"
Manuela leaned up and softly brushed her lips on his, a quick teasing kiss and retreated, looking mischievous.
"It's el Día del Descubrimiento, there's going to be a lot of dancing in town. And I can guarantee fireworks."
She raised her eyebrows and Sam grinned widely. He knew just what she was talking about.
****
Two days later and Sam was back at the Roadhouse, experimentally tinkering with the computer in Ellen’s office. It was so easy to get past the firewalls and protections and into the files themselves that Sam rolled his eyes. He thought about building in a safety system that would take a hacker at least thirty minutes to go through, but he didn't have his DVDs. He’d left them with Dean in the Impala, and they were god knew where by now.
Suddenly curious, Sam pulled up the dispatch file and checked the hunter's list. Since he’d been in Puerto Rico he knew Dean had been after a banshee with Bobby; he had heard all about how cool it had been when he dutifully called Dean each night. Sam shook his head at having agreed to report in like a child on his first field trip, but it seemed the best way to avoid having a panicky big brother suddenly appear on his hotel's doorstep, plane be damned. But today Sam had only caught Dean's voice mail and didn't know where he was exactly, or what he was doing. Before he was able to find out, he got caught red-handed.
"Sam Winchester, you close that computer right now!"
Sam put his hands up and rolled the office chair slowly away from the desk.
"Sorry Ellen."
She looked furious and Sam shivered. It was not a good idea to piss her off.
"You know you have no business poking around in that machine. You remind me I’ve got to make it secure ASAP." She gave him a small smile. "But nice to see you, boy. Great job with the bokor. Pedro went to pay him a visit and it seems you actually convinced him not to raise hell anymore."
That was good to hear, and Sam nodded with satisfaction.
"Cool."
"Hungry? I should have some leftover pizza in the fridge, if Ash didn't wolf it down since the last time I looked."
"No thanks, I stopped for a burger on the way over. Got anything else for me?"
"Another case, you mean? Dean should be here tomorrow, and yeah, I’ve got something for you two."
The thing was, the zombie case had gone so smoothly; it had only taken four days. Sam needed more time on his own - just a bit more - before going rejoining Dean and falling back into old habits. He wasn’t ready yet. He used the puppy-dog eyes.
"Please Ellen? Come on, just a little something else on my own. Just this once. Well, one more time"
She squinted, suspicious.
"Is everything alright between you two? You didn't fight or anything, did you? Tell me the truth, Sam."
Staring right back, Sam did his best to keep his face innocent.
"No, we didn't fight," And it was the truth, after all. Sam didn't need time alone because of a fight. "But I swear, I need a breather or I'll throttle the guy, family or not. Please, Ellen."
Sighing, Ellen went to her desk, shooed Sam off the chair and opened a file on the computer. After clicking here and there, she turned the screen towards Sam.
"Well, okay. But after that, you need to check in with Dean. He's distracted when you're not with him, doesn't have his head in the game as well as he should. Boy's a hazard when you’re off on your own. You know you’ve got to be there to ground him."
"I swear I will. Thanks Ellen." Sam pointed at the picture on the screen. "What's the story?"
She stood up and went to get a file in a digitally locked file cabinet, gave it to Sam before sitting back down.
"The Golden Nugget, Las Vegas. One of the first casinos built there and still a household name. It struggled a bit with the tidal wave of concept casinos, only to bounce back in the last few years, due to clever new management and lots of investment. In the last, oh, roughly six years, there’s been a string of deadly accidents among their big winners. Enough to be suspicious even to the police, but they didn't find anyone to blame."
There were maybe a dozen gruesome shots of men and women twisted in unnatural ways, looking somewhat surprised on the glossy paper immortalizing their last moments. Sam grimaced.
"Any leads?"
Ellen shrugged, and then closed her computer.
"MO makes it look like a pissed-off ghost, but a powerful one. I had a hunter over there maybe six months ago, and we thought we’d solved the problem. But there was another death last month, same MO, so we have to start all over again. I've included a bit of research on several potential suspects who died suspiciously in the casino since the ‘50's. Problem is, they’re buried all over the states, not in Sin City."
Nodding, Sam closed the file.
"Okay, I guess the first step is to narrow it down. I'll get on it."
"Go see Ash before you leave. And call your brother or he'll be worried sick."
Sam smiled, kissed Ellen on the cheek with a 'thanks' and went to Ash's room. The sign said he was in, so Sam knocked, closing his eye as a precaution when Ash opened the door.
"Hey, Sam, my man! Come in!"
There were loud music and suspicious smells as was to be expected, and Sam smiled while keeping his eyes shut.
"You sure you're decent?"
A loud laugh, and he was dragged in by the arm.
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry, you prude. Come in." Sam opened his eyes and saw with relief that his host was actually wearing pants. Ash quickly went to the work bench set in the corner of his room, taking a seat and amiably chatting away. "I don't know what you did to the bokor, but the old man sounded terrified, if Pedro is to be believed," more conspiratorially, he whispered "and I always believe Pedro." A pointed look accompanied that statement, and Sam had to refrain from laughing out loud.
"Glad to hear it. Ellen said you might have something for me?"
That brought Ash back on track and he started rummaging through the pile of electronics on his desk.
"Yes, yes. I do. Here."
He produced a slick Vaio TX laptop, thin and silver. A couple of programs were running when Ash woke it up. Obviously he had outdone himself.
"Here you go. I've been working on this for you guys for a while now. Omen tracking included, plus several high performance translators, easy hacked entrance into federal databases in shortcut, a supernatural search engine I've programmed myself, etc, etc."
Sam nodded, impressed, and Ash looked smug.
"That's awesome, dude. Do you have a bag for it?" Ash threw him one that he fished out from under his bed and Sam started to pack it up. "Can't wait to check it out on the plane to Vegas."
"E put you on the Nugget case?"
"Yeah."
"Damnit."
Even though he was pouting, Ash started to search his bed frenetically until he produced a cell phone that he threw to Sam. A Sony Ericsson, looked brand new too.
"Huh. I've already got a phone, Ash."
"Not as sexy! You'll need that one, man. Fuck, I guess Ellen wasn’t kidding when she said I wouldn't get to do that gig." Ash sighed dramatically. "But what can you do? Okay, so, we've got a full cover for ya, but you'll have to give me fifteen, so I can put your pic on the ID."
He ruffled stuff on his work bench and threw a Blackberry at Sam, who caught it with one hand.
"Why this too?"
Ash smirked.
"Open it and be amazed."
When Sam turned it on, it took him a beat to understand what he was seeing. He was looking at a completely digital, sophisticated EMF reader. You had to examine it closely to be able to tell it was not a regular Blackberry. Impressive, indeed.
"You can turn off the sound as you monitor a room or an object, way more discreet."
"Cool. Are you sure the electronics are..." One look at Ash's raised eyebrows and Sam stopped his criticism. "Of course, I'm sure it works great."
"It was tested thoroughly, works like a charm. I knew you'd appreciate it. Once you get to Vegas, go to Tony's garage to get the rest of the stuff. His number and coordinates are in the contacts of the other phone, as are the details about your new identity. There’s a goddamn sweet ride over there for you, and even cash to play the jet-setter."
It was clear that Ash had planned this job for himself and Sam felt a bit guilty about taking away his fun.
"I didn't mean to..."
He was shushed immediately and pushed towards the door.
"Nah, it's alright. I guess Ellen can't bear to let me go, even for a coupla days. Now, let me work my magic on those cards. Someone’s got to work around here."
****
A ‘sweet ride’ was in fact a massive understatement. Sam's jaw almost hit the floor when Tony rolled the silver Aston Martin DBS V12 out of the garage. Sam wasn't car obsessed like his brother, but a man ought to have some respect for such a perfect machine. The car had a couple of secret compartments with medical equipment and several stacks of money that looked legit, a perfect complement to James Fleming’s platinum credit card. Clearly Ash watched too many movies, but Sam had reason to know that people easily bought over-the-top aliases, as if they were too outrageous to be false.
The first thing Sam did was to buy some clothes to fit the part: a couple of suits, a tux, several dress shirts, silk boxers and pajamas, swim trunks that he was sure were a very bad idea, and honest to god Italian leather shoes and appropriate luggage to pack it all in (that he knew he'd catch shit over if he ever got caught with it by Dean). Speaking of the devil, he had left a short voice mail to his brother, saying he'd left on another hunt by himself and that he'd catch up later. He wasn't looking forward to hearing Dean's reaction to that one.
Some say that clothes don't make the man, but Sam felt like a million bucks when he rolled up in front of the Golden Nugget. He gave the valet the keys and let the bell boy handle the luggage, then strolled towards the counter and without a hesitation booked the suite the hostess suggested. He deserved a break from the worst motel rooms of America, thank you very much.
The suite itself was vast and luxurious, with a large dining and leisure area, an expansive bedroom with a massive king bed and a bathroom that was bigger than some of the motel rooms Sam had seen in the last months. Sam was so entranced while at the same time trying to play it blasé that he only reacted when they bell boy took the bags to the bedroom and started to open the luggage, probably to hang his clothes. Shit, the tux was par for the course, but the sawed-off shotgun, .45 and canister of salt would surely attract unwanted attention. He stopped the young guy with a smile and a hefty tip, then sent him on his way.
Before starting any kind of investigation of the casino, Sam decided to read the case file once more. He had meant to do so on the plane, but had played with Ash's kick-ass computer settings instead, marveling once again at the sheer skill the guy had with electronics. Sam reviewed all the cases of the guests who had died in the last six years, and then the facts about the potential suspects listed in the other file. The only visible link between the victims was that they had all won pretty big right before they had met their violent ends. Sam was interrupted by the sound of his stomach violently growling and was surprised to see that it was well after eight o’clock. He considered calling room service, but getting a first feel for the place was probably a better idea, so he put his tie back on and grabbed his jacket and wallet.
Like many things in Las Vegas, the Golden Nugget could be described as over-the-top. Luxury was everywhere, from the gaming areas to the many restaurants and boutiques. Sam blinked at one point when he saw directions to the obligatory hotel pool... with a shark tank. A basin with real sharks, of course separated from the rich swimmers by heavy glass so they only had the illusion of danger and exoticism. Still, Sam's mind boggled.
Dean would be like a kid in a candy store here, he thought. Not for the first time in the last five days, Sam actually missed his brother to the point that it physically ached deep in his chest, even if he was sure that Dean was alive and breathing. Sighing, he shook it off and decided he'd come back to see the pool properly the next day.
There were plenty of dining options to choose from, but Sam decided to eat at Red Sushi, a rare bit of indulgence. He sat at the counter, watching the staff prepare the colorful and, as it turned out, excellent sushi and sashimi. It was quite a change from cheeseburgers and pizza and Sam found himself enjoying the sushi even more than he anticipated.
When Sam left the restaurant, he decided it was time to explore the gambling area. He left aside the too-loud slot machines and just strolled from table to table for a while, trying to look captivated by his false Blackberry. There was no unusual supernatural activity at first glance, but he'd have to come back when there were fewer people and sweep the place more thoroughly. If there was a time with fewer people, that is. Sam had his doubts about that, since the few times he and Dean had come through Las Vegas, the town sure didn't seem to sleep much, but it did gamble 24/7.
Most of the victims had won at cards, primarily at poker. Moving away from the area with the craps, blackjack and roulette tables, Sam entered the poker room. He expected a smoke-filled cavern like in the old movies, but anti-smoking laws had changed all that, and instead the air smelled like money and expensive perfume. The ten tables were full and the room filled with plenty of on-lookers. Sam stuck near a table, watching for the tells of the other players out of habit. One or two knew what they were doing, the rest were obviously overeager rich tourists who lacked poker faces. When a loud middle-aged man decided he had lost enough and left his seat, Sam took it and smiled in the direction of the other players.
The dealer - ‘Vanessa’ said her name tag - was blond and tiny, with playful blue eyes. Only when he changed cash for chips did Sam realize the minimum bet was five hundred dollars. It could have been more -- way more -- but even with money generated god knows how, it still felt wrong to put so much cash down to play cards. Sam hated losing though, always had, so he played to win and it paid off. He was on a roll, folding at the right time or else winning big more often than not. The chips started piling up, higher and higher, and when he heard cheering after he revealed a flush he realized that he was starting to draw attention.
Somewhere along the way a couple of girls had attached themselves to the back of his chair to watch him play. Both were beautiful and dressed to draw the eye to all the right places, but when he made eye contact with them Sam got the feeling that those girls were aiming to eat him alive. He played it cool by politely smiling back, but inwardly he cursed. He might play the part of a jet-setter, but it was to blend in, not to interest the casino's security and potential gold diggers. While waiting to deal the next hand, Vanessa grinned at him and winked, obviously amused by the situation. Sam shook his head and leaned over the table, gesturing for her to come closer.
"It's mean to laugh at me."
She laughed out loud at that, throwing her head back and it made Sam grin. She really was gorgeous and way more real than the girls trying to get his attention. Vanessa teased him, speaking low enough that only he could hear.
"Can't help it, that was a ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look if I ever saw one!"
"Admit it, they are scary."
Smiling still, she nodded.
"I'll give you that. But who could blame them, really? You're the best catch in the house tonight, Mr. Fleming."
She winked and stepped back to put a new pack in the shuffler, and the game started again. It was a thrill to have a beautiful woman basically propositioning him again. He'd had a fun and pretty wild night with Manuela in Fajardo, which had ended with a nice breakfast and a laugh for a change. Of course, right now Vanessa thought she was flirting with a rich young man, but in the end, she probably wasn’t looking for more than a fling, so Sam turned up the charm a bit and started flirting back, enough for the girls at his back to sense that they had no chance, at least not tonight. As far as the poker went, Sam toned it down a bit, being careful not to draw more attention. Luck was on his side, though, and he got some incredible hands. By one o'clock, he was feeling the weight of the long day and decided to call it a night. To his astonishment, when he did a quick survey of his chips, he realized he had over 50,000 dollars in net gains. Sam grinned at Vanessa, while he gave her a hefty tip.
"Not a bad night. I'd say you brought me luck."
"Good to hear and nice for me! Will you be back?"
Her job, of course, to bring happy players back to her table. But there was definitely more to it - it wasn't hard to read between the lines.
"Sure! Do you work tomorrow?"
Vanessa smiled, eyes twinkling.
"Yes, I finish this shift in about an hour, then I'm back tomorrow afternoon."
It was the moment to cast the line, and the hum of the chase made Sam's blood run faster. He bent forward and she came near to hear what he had to say.
"Can't wait to see you again."
Her breath was hot against his ear when she answered, it made him shiver.
"It may be sooner than you think, Mr. Fleming."
"It can't come soon enough."
They exchanged heated gazes and Sam stood up and followed one of the casino's employees, who carried his chips to the booth. Fortunately, Ash had provided fake tax info along with Sam’s fake ID. Sam acted as if cashing $50,450 was something he did every day, and he ended up with a very nice Golden Nugget check for his trouble. None of the employees even seemed suspicious, just congratulated him and wished him a good night, please come back to play with us, sir. Smiling widely, Sam thought he might do just that.
***
Sam took a long, scalding shower and brushed his teeth, put on his new black silk pajama pants and tried to watch a bit of TV, but now that he was ready for bed he was almost vibrating with anticipation and fully awake. He had a gut feeling that Vanessa would come knocking on his door after her shift. He wondered for a moment if he was too full of himself, thinking that, and what if all she had meant was that he'd see her around tomorrow or something? Maybe she expected him to wait for her after her shift? He looked at the time on the DVD player and cursed softly. Too late for that now, since her shift had ended fifteen minutes ago. Sam sighed and decided that it was time to sleep anyway, get a few hours in before starting to investigate for real. He was on a job, after all.
He was about to turn off the TV, shutting up down an exerciser infomercial, when he heard very light rasping on his door. Sam jumped to his feet, his heart instantly beating faster. He took three deep breaths and opened the door, trying to act cool and collected. It was in fact Vanessa, smiling up at him and then pointedly giving him a once over, her smile widening as she detailed his bare chest and stomach before her attention returned to his eyes.
"Hey." He grinned and stepped back to let her in. "Care for a nightcap?"
"Sure. But I won't even pretend I'm here just for that."
Vanessa smiled playfully, coming in but snaking an arm around his neck as soon as Sam closed the door. He leaned down to kiss her, and it soon heated up as she molded herself to him, her other hand sliding down to his ass and palming it. He chuckled and hauled her up easily as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
"Okay then. How about we skip the nightcap altogether?"
She mouthed at his neck, before licking it and nibbling on his earlobe.
"Perfectly fine with me."
Sam carried her to the bedroom and climbed on his knees onto the big white bed before laying her down on it. He took his time undressing her, even when she made impatient noises as he kissed every inch of skin he uncovered. She was tiny but still deliciously curvy, skin tanned golden in sharp contrast with her lacy white underwear.
"You're killing me, James. Come on," she urged, after he finally took her skirt off and started kissing her leg from the ankle up. Sam was briefly distracted by his pretend name but she smelled sweet, tasted even better, and he was so hard it didn't really matter, not when this was just casual sex and they'd part ways in the morning. So he didn't say anything, just bit her thigh and grinned up at her when she cursed loudly, hitting the bed in impatience.
"You in a hurry or something?"
She writhed on the bed, her lower lip between her teeth, pupils blown.
"Yeah, damnit! I fantasized about you all night. So come on and fuck me!"
It was tempting, really tempting, to just push her panties aside and slide in, feel her clench around him. He mouthed the damp fabric, her smell strong and intoxicating and she keened loudly. Another sound filtered through though - knocking of some sort. Sam ignored it and went back to kissing Vanessa, deep and dirty as her hands roamed his chest, then went to his waistband and tried to push down his pajama pants.
The knocking had become pounding and it was enough to get Sam's attention and make him realize that it was at his door. What the fuck? Could his earlier winnings have prompted security to do a background check that somehow linked him to his former FBI file? If so, he was so screwed. Vanessa had heard the knocking too and she was frowning at him.
"Expecting someone? I hope it's not your girlfriend."
"No! I have no idea..." Sam got up, wondering if he could sneak out a window or something, if he needed to grab a gun, if he should ask Vanessa to play the hostage...
"Sam?" A beat. "Sam? Are you okay? Open the damn door!"
It was one of those screech-to-a-halt moments: Dean?
Dean was still pounding at the door and anytime now Sam knew that he would start trying to kick it in, so he hurried to open it before he attracted attention.
"The fuck, Dean! Are you insane?"
Something close to panic morphed rapidly to deep relief on his brother's face. There was a door opening on the other side of the corridor, probably a pissed-off guest awakened by the din, so Sam fisted his hand in Dean's shirt and pulled him inside.
"Sam!"
"Jesus! What's your problem?"
The smile on Dean's face fell and was quickly replaced by irritation.
"I tried to call a million times, text, everything. You didn't pick up!"
Shit. It did made sense since Sam had forgotten his regular phone in the car, and had been using the one Ash gave him all day.
"Paranoid much? That doesn't mean I'm about to die, Dean. Come on!"
"How could I know?” Dean said, raising his voice. “You didn't answer the damn phone! And what the fuck are you doing in Vegas, anyway?"
Before he had time to reply, a cough came from the bedroom doorway. Both guys turned to an incredulous Vanessa, in white lace undies and nothing else.
"What's going on here?"
Dean blinked, and then looked at Sam who tried his best to smile.
"It's a misunderstanding. I'm sorry you were worried, Dean... but I'm busy. I'll call you."
He truly expected his brother to leer, to say something borderline inappropriate or even to clap him on the shoulder in approval. He was therefore totally taken by surprise when Dean's jaw tensed and his gaze turned icy cold.
"Oh, is that so? That's why you ditched me? To get laid?"
Sam blinked, totally taken aback.
"What?"
Almost sneering, Dean turned to Vanessa and said "Christo!" very clearly, with no result, thank god, although she did look baffled and a little worried. It made Sam see red.
"Oh, no no no. You can't think..."
Dean didn't look apologetic in the least at implying that Sam was still mingling with demons. In fact he got right up in Sam's personal space, tried to stare him down, which made Sam straighten up, feet set apart as if they were about to fight.
"Again, how could I know, Sam? Huh?"
It wasn’t fair and Sam didn't deserve this mistrust, not anymore. He had been sure that they were over that, since they had come clean of most of the secrets between them. Sam didn't understand why Dean was overreacting, but it seemed that he wasn’t finished yet.
"If you wanna get laid, just go ahead! What is it, do I cramp your style? Do you need a separate room for privacy?"
Sam was about to protest that all of this made absolutely no sense when Vanessa, now mostly dressed and carrying her shoes in her hand, passed by them to get to the door. She stopped near Sam and it only took one look to tell that she was pissed.
"Okay, James, so this was very close to awesome, but I'm out of here."
"Hey, no, it's okay, I..."
He tried to stop her but she dodged his hand.
"Just... no. I really don't have time for this shit."
Dean and Vanessa exchanged a hate-filled look, which was followed by that superior grin of Dean’s that meant he wasn’t up to any good and that generally led to violence.
It was then that it struck Sam like a bolt of lightning: Dean was not just mad at being abandoned or worried about Sam’s safety. He was jealous.
Vanessa left the room, slamming the door behind her and it was clear from Dean’s expression that he was pleased with that outcome.
He turned to Sam and he still had that heat in his eyes, feral and dangerous. It made Sam harder than he'd been earlier with Vanessa, so suddenly that he stumbled backwards.
"She's hot, I'll give you that." Dean pushed Sam back against the wall and held him there with his forearm across the chest. Still too stunned to react, Sam just swallowed, wavering between a deep need to get the fuck away right now and an even stronger urge to haul Dean flush to his body, right where he needed him. Dean's eyes followed his Adam's apple and he licked his lips. "You were just about ready to fuck her, right, Sammy? I bet you’d gotten her all worked up and slick."
It was torture, having Dean this close and seemingly willing, but Sam was so confused and afraid that he was reading everything wrong.
"God, Dean!" The words came out breathy and a bit shaky. Sam's world was rocked to the core by this, and now he was wondering if Dean was just really pissed and mean or if he was about to jump Sam’s bones. Dean looked down, saw how Sam was tenting his pajama pants. He was breathing faster himself.
"She got you all worked up, too. Was she blowing you? Is that why you wouldn’t answer the door, too busy fucking her little pink mouth?"
"Dean, fuck, what has gotten into you?"
His brother was still zeroed on his crotch, not listening or at least not answering.
"I could... I bet I'd be better than her."
Sam moaned at that, desperate now. Dean's eyes snapped up, searched his face.
"You'd let me?"
How could anyone refuse that offer? Sam had been sure that his longing was one-sided, meant to be his cross to bear, another sure-fire proof that he had a one-way ticket to Hell. He raised a shaking hand up to Dean's face, let his thumb drag along the lips that had inspired so many wet dreams and it was like a an electricity sparked against his skin when Dean's tongue shot out to touch his finger.
"Please, Dean, please..."
There was barely time for a heartbeat before Dean sank to his knees and yanked Sam's pajama pants and boxers down to his ankles. He looked up then, as he grabbed Sam's cock and there was barely a line of green left around his fully dilated pupils. It was almost enough to make Sam to blow his load right there and then on his brother's face.
"I'm gonna make it so good for you."
Dean's voice was husky and low, as he jacked Sam a couple of times, slow and careful and in total contrast to the rest of his demeanor, only to then lick the head of Sam's dick with a swirl as if it was a lollipop. It was too much to look and feel at the same time, so Sam knocked his head back against the wall and shut his eyes, groaning loudly when Dean took him down, hot and wet beyond belief. Dean knew what he was doing - either he'd sucked cock before or he was using every trick that worked on him. It was messy as hell, but oh, so hot. Dean was moaning like a porn star around Sam’s cock and the sound made Sam feel like he was about to lose it. Sam didn't know what to do with his hands, scratching the wall then gripping Dean's shoulders as he tried to keep as still as possible so as not to choke him. He startled when Dean grabbed his right wrist and brought Sam's hand to the back of his head, pulling back for a second, and growling urgently.
"C'mon, Sammy, give it to me. Fuck my mouth, don't hold back."
Dean swallowed him back down and this time Sam felt him open up enough so that the head of his cock hit the back of Dean's throat. Sam’s fingers reflexively gripped hard in Dean’s short hair as his hips snapped forward for more. Dean swallowed around him and Sam cried out, too much, too hot, starting to thrust shallowly as Dean moaned muffed encouragements. Sam felt his orgasm build fast, pleasure concentrating in his lower belly and he tried to pull Dean off.
"Fuck, Dean, I'm gonna come, I'm..."
Dean just sucked harder, gripping Sam's hips and bobbing his head faster, and with a full body shiver of pleasure Sam came harder than he ever had before, shouting and totally losing any control he had left. He fucked into the welcoming heat of Dean's mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head, the explosion of bliss making him feel like he was about to black out. When he finally came back to himself, Dean was licking softly at his softening dick, almost too much sensation for the over-sensitive flesh. Sam let himself slide down the wall to his knees in front of Dean and crashed their mouths together.
Sam kissed him hard and deep, trying to get the taste of himself out of the way to reach what was purely Dean. His brother keened and tangled his hands in Sam's hair, responding in kind with a battle of teeth and tongue, nips and licks. Sam pushed the shirt away from Dean's shoulders and off, and then pulled up his t-shirt, reluctant to break apart for even the second it took to get rid of it. Dean started to undo his jeans and Sam tried to help, ineffectively yanking at the denim ordering:
"Off, off, off!"
He didn't even wait for Dean to get his pants down, just plunged his hand into the V of his fly as soon as the zipper was opened to grip at his dick and pulled and stroked urgently, rough and fast as Dean fucked his fist. Within a couple of seconds Dean was spilling over his hand with a chant of SamSamSamSammySam, face hidden in Sam's neck and fingers twined so tight in his hair that Sam thought he might be about to pull it out.
They were both panting and dazed, but when Sam let Dean's cock go and wiped his hand on his discarded shirt, he could feel his brother start to tense up. Dean slowly unclenched his fingers and rubbed Sam's scalp softly, but didn't look up. After a minute, Sam could hear him whisper something over and over against his collarbone. He had to strain to understand what it was but when he did his stomach dropped.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."
Shushing him, Sam sat back on his haunches and pulled Dean up close until they were chest to chest, making him straddle his thighs and sit on his lap. Dean came willingly enough and didn't let go, which reassured Sam a little. He rubbed small circles on his brother's back, speaking softly as he would to a skittish colt.
"It's okay Dean. It's okay. Shhhh. Don't freak out on me, please, just don't." Sam didn't know how to reassure him that he had nothing to worry about. "I wanted it as much as you did, if not more. I've wanted this for so long, Dean. Shhh."
It did make Dean relax a bit, but he still wouldn't meet Sam’s eyes, so Sam cradled his brother's head in his hands and softly pried him away from his neck, peppering his jaw with small kisses until he reached Dean's mouth. Dean still had his eyes closed, but when Sam kissed him, he kissed back. Dean would have to face the truth sooner or later, so Sam gave him one last kiss and drew back.
"Hey, hey. Look at me, man. C'mon." Dean opened his eyes and Sam tried to smile, but there was so much confusion and fear in there that he didn't quite manage it. "It's okay."
Dean made an incredulous snort at that, almost a sob.
"How? How can this be okay?"
"It can be - as long as it's okay for us. I don't care what anybody says. I wanted this. And not just this once. I want you."
Dean blinked at him, the borderline panic receding, but Sam could tell he wasn’t convinced.
"I really do, Dean. It's fine. Please."
"You sure about that?"
This time Sam did manage to smile, let his fingers trail around Dean's ear, caressing his neck.
"Yeah, I swear. And... you know... who'd pass up the chance to have sex with The Dean Winchester?"
That gave Dean the chance to fall back into familiar territory and he caught the ball on the rebound, even if his small smile lacked amusement.
"Well duh. You’d be crazy not to."
"Exactly." Dean started to get up, but Sam held him in place with an arm around his waist. He gripped his brother's chin, forcing him to meet his eyes again, serious this time. He didn't want Dean to think this was a one time thing. Sam knew Dean was used to being wanted for his looks alone, but if Sam confessed that he was madly in love with him, he’d have Dean running for the hills. "I’m not just fooling around here, Dean. And if that’s all it is for you, then it's going to be a problem."
Dean squirmed and flushed a bit, but when he answered he was earnest.
"It's not, Sammy. I swear."
"Good.
To end this conversation, at least for now, Sam kissed Dean again, mapping his mouth slowly and thoroughly. As he had always imagined, Dean was a wickedly good kisser and Sam realized that chances were he’d never get enough of it. When they parted, Dean got to his feet and offered Sam a hand up too. Sam purposely stood directly in Dean's personal space, looming over him intently. Dean's breathing hitched and he licked his lips. Sam jerked his head towards the bedroom.
"It's late. Let's get some sleep."
Dean nodded and led the way. The fact that he didn’t make any lewd remarks confirmed to Sam that Dean was still shaken and being careful of whatever they were starting. He did stop short in the doorway upon catching sight of the king-sized bed. If Sam was honest, it scared him too, embodying this unequivocal change in their relationship. He decided to act as it was no big thing, taking the side farthest from the door on purpose. He slipped between the sheets, lying on his side turned towards the middle of the bed. Dean slowly untied his boots and shrugged off his jeans; Sam pretended not to notice Dean’s slight hesitation before taking off his boxers too. He let Dean set the distance between them and at first Dean left a good foot of empty space between them, turning his back towards Sam, who couldn’t help worrying that he'd wake up alone when Dean had a second freak-out sometime in the night.
Turning off the light, Sam whispered, "'Night, Dean."
The timeless response was automatic.
"Sweet dreams, Sammy."
But Sam couldn’t shut his eyes, could only look at the curve of Dean's shoulder, the dark shape of his brother contrasted with the white wall of the room. Dean was right there, close enough to touch, though Sam didn't dare.
"Stop staring, you freak," Dean grumbled.
Sam laughed, surprised.
"Sorry."
With a put upon sigh, Dean scooted back until there was barely any distance left between them, making Sam smile so wide his cheeks hurt.
"C'mon,” Dean huffed. “You know you wanna. You've always been a freakin' octopus."
With such an unmistakable invitation Sam was not about to deny himself, so he put his arm around Dean's chest and buried his nose in the soft short hair of his nape, kissing him softly.
"You love it. Admit it, you're the biggest cuddler ever."
Dean grunted but apart from elbowing Sam quite hard, he stayed put. His breathing soon evened out, lulling Sam to sleep.
( part 2 here)
Why? Well this is the result of a challenge at herogetstheguy , and my source of inspiration (if you squint real hard and turn your head sideways) was Casino Royale. My first foray into James Bond inspired-fic was last year's crackish Dr. Gay, with Jensen as Bond, but today the focus is on Winchester. Sam Winchester.
Oh and it is my first explicit Wincest fic ever. eeep.
Title: The Golden Nugget (part 1, part 2 linked at the bottom)
Rating/Word count: NC-17, 18 000 words split in 2 parts
Pairing/Characters: Sam/OFCs, Sam/Dean
Notes/Disclaimers: Spoiler warning for episodes up to 4.03. Not mine, never were. Fiction alert! I had great help on this, first by Sue and then zelda_zee did a KICK ASS beta. thank her, really. AND those AMAZING graphics? They are all keyweegirlie 's doing, please note how much she rocks!
Summary: Sam just needs a case to do on his own. Maybe two.
.
As he slowly moved his hand under the water, Sam was mesmerized by the delicate swirls of blue left in its wake and by how his skin appeared to glow. Joining a night kayak tour on the Laguna Grande had been more of a means to an end, a cover story if he was ever asked questions, but he had rarely seen anything as beautiful.
A bit to his right, the group of tourists was obviously as fascinated as he was by the bioluminescent phenomenon. Sam knew it was due to the tiny dynoflagellate plankton swirling under the surface, but it still brought to mind something supernatural, although in his experience the supernatural was rarely this peaceful.
To break from the group unnoticed he needed a distraction of some sort, so as everyone was curiously looking towards a girl insisting in a panicky voice that a shrimp had just jumped in her kayak, Sam used his paddle to swiftly throw a bit of water on a group of teens. Predictably, they started to splash each other and Sam quickly backed towards the mangrove channel, grinning when he heard a loud splash followed by victorious bellows. Obviously, someone had taken a plunge in the warm, shallow water.
Once out of view of the others, Sam took a moment to appreciate the half moon that shone above and the sounds of frogs and insects surrounding him before consulting his GPS and silently paddling towards his objective. He pulled his kayak onto the shore, leaving it well hidden in the luxurious vegetation next to the path he now needed to follow. It should be clear all the way to the little shed set behind the hacienda; he would approach it from the back.
It had been hard to convince Dean to let him take this gig by himself. He loved his brother, he really did, but Dean’s constant hovering and his insistence on putting himself between Sam and danger, clearly a part of his DNA, had taken its toll. Sam was an adult, a seasoned hunter, way more powerful that most people he knew even imagined, and he just longed to do something by himself again. To prove to Dean, or possibly to himself, that he could do it.
There were other reasons, but he didn't want to think about them too much; if he didn't maybe they would just disappear. Yeah, right. Like wanting to have sex with your brother was some kind of temporary affliction.
The necessity of flying had helped convince Dean to stay behind though, so here Sam was: on his own in Puerto Rico and twenty feet away from facing pure voodoo. The case built by Ellen and her contact in San Juan was pretty clear: a well-known Haitian bokor was definitely raising zombies in Fajardo.
Sam had hunted alone before, of course. In those long months after Broward County and the dreadful summer just after that, when everything was off-kilter because Dean was gone - gone and nothing was bringing him back. Sam didn't wish to revert to solo all the time, but he needed a breather before he strangled his brother; he knew this break would help him clear his mind. Deep down, if he was honest, he missed being totally in control of every detail. And even if he tried not to think about it, there was always a little temptation that made him long to use his powers, just once, for something good. It scared Sam to admit it, a gnawing guilt and a suspicion that he could be going down the wrong path once again. But he’d resolved that he wouldn’t do it, not when Dean finally trusted him again.
When Sam reached the clearing, flickering lights were making the small windows of the shed glow yellow, and he could hear a constant, monotonous murmur that was probably the priest's incantation. He gripped the handle of his machete and took a moment to center himself, inhaling deeply. Opening his eyes, he walked to the shed and finding the door locked, he took the direct route and just kicked it in. Predictably, the old wood gave way easily and the door opened with a loud crack, startling the elderly priest who scrambled up and backed towards the wall behind him.
Tall and wiry, looking strong for seventy years old, it was without a doubt Monsieur Didier - officially the Arroyo's gardener, but in fact he was busier raising the dead at night than planting hibiscus. He was highly feared, and for a second as Sam made eye contact he was reminded of a demon, but there was a distinct rim of white around the dark irises. The priest was starting to incant again, louder and more fervently. From the corner of his eyes, Sam saw the corpse laying to the side of the altar start to stir.
"Stop!" Sam yelled.
Of course the priest didn't listen. They never listened. The corpse slowly stood up and the old man laughed, delighted. He said something in what sounded like French and the zombie, once a middle-aged man, looked at Sam with empty eyes and moved towards him.
"Dammit, I said stop! Now it's going to get messy."
Sadly there was no other way to go, so Sam entered the shed, raised his machete, and brought it down with enough force to chop the zombie’s head right off. It wavered, as if it was thinking of still moving forward, but then it crumpled to a heap on the floor. There was movement from the back of the shed and out of the corner of his eye Sam saw the light of the oil lamp shine on the blade of the knife just as Monsieur Didier threw it in his direction. He could have ducked, but adrenaline had honed his senses, so Sam flicked his wrist without giving it a conscious thought and the knife never reached him, stopping in mid-air and then turning on itself. The old man opened his mouth in shock.
"You don't want to mess with me, old man. Understand?" Sam was furious at himself. He had not wanted it to come to this, but it was like a switch had flipped on without his consent.
The priest, who now knew he was facing forces to be reckoned with, raised his hands. His tone was plaintive as he begged for mercy.
"Oui, oui... yes. Pitié, s'il vous plait, do not kill me, please."
It was tempting, to kill him, because there was no guarantee that the priest would never try this and anything else he was doing with black magic again. As he thought about it, Sam let the knife come to him, and then threw it out the door. He kicked the altar, smashing bowls and figurines, setting fire to most of the stuff, including the man's book, full of notes in the margins. Sam watched it burn, satisfied to see the old man cower away, wringing his hands.
"I swear, never again. Promis, promis."
Sam looked at him intently, searching his eyes.
"Why should I trust you?"
There was no answer to that and the sorcerer knew it. He started babbling, mostly in Creole or French, and Sam stopped him after a while.
"Okay, okay, I'll let you live." Sam approached him and stood as tall and intimidating as he knew how to be. He could almost smell the fear, could see it plain as day. He continued softly. "But you just step sideways funny? I'll know. And I'll come back for you. Understood?"
Monsieur Didier nodded, relief showing as he smiled; for a second Sam worried he would try to kiss his hands or something.
"Yes, merci! yes! I understand. I will be good. No more, no more."
"Good."
Sam turned and wiped his machete on the leg of the decapitated corpse. He was about to leave when he was stopped by a cough obviously meant to attract his attention. Monsieur Didier looked at him, curiosity mixed with respect now.
"Hmm... who?"
The passport said Daniel Wroughton but Sam went with the truth.
"Winchester. Sam Winchester."
It's not that he expected this man to know who he was or anything, but if he contacted the spirit world, Sam’s name could scare him a bit. Might as well use the fact that he was labeled as a possible Anti-Christ to his advantage for once. He left the old man in the shed and went back to his kayak, slid in, and as quickly as he could paddled towards the lagoon to rejoin the group.
Sam had been gone for maybe thirty minutes, tops, but it seemed his absence had been noticed. One of the two guides, an absolutely gorgeous tall brunette, met him right at the entrance of the canal.
"There you are!"
Sam pasted on an embarrassed expression, hoped he sold it.
"Yeah, sorry, had to take care of an emergency."
She smiled, then turned her kayak around to go back toward the group.
"It's okay. You should have warned us, that's all."
"Were you worried about me, Manuela?"
She turned to look at him over her shoulder, grinning.
"A big, guy strong guy like you? Nah." She deliberately slowed down until they were side by side. "What's your name, rico?"
He extended his hand and met her flirtatious smile full on.
"I'm Sam. Enchanted."
She shook but didn't let go immediately; in fact she used the grip to pull herself closer until their boats knocked against each other. Up close he could smell the rich floral aroma coming from her shining black hair, and her perfect white teeth shone in the soft moonlight as she looked up at him.
"My pleasure, Sam. What are you doing after the tour?"
He shrugged and trailed a finger along her forearm, felt her shiver. It had been so long since he had been with someone just for fun - since he’d thought about himself first. Since Dean had not been there to blur the lines of desire and want.
"I don't know yet. I'm on my own. Any suggestions?"
Manuela leaned up and softly brushed her lips on his, a quick teasing kiss and retreated, looking mischievous.
"It's el Día del Descubrimiento, there's going to be a lot of dancing in town. And I can guarantee fireworks."
She raised her eyebrows and Sam grinned widely. He knew just what she was talking about.
****
Two days later and Sam was back at the Roadhouse, experimentally tinkering with the computer in Ellen’s office. It was so easy to get past the firewalls and protections and into the files themselves that Sam rolled his eyes. He thought about building in a safety system that would take a hacker at least thirty minutes to go through, but he didn't have his DVDs. He’d left them with Dean in the Impala, and they were god knew where by now.
Suddenly curious, Sam pulled up the dispatch file and checked the hunter's list. Since he’d been in Puerto Rico he knew Dean had been after a banshee with Bobby; he had heard all about how cool it had been when he dutifully called Dean each night. Sam shook his head at having agreed to report in like a child on his first field trip, but it seemed the best way to avoid having a panicky big brother suddenly appear on his hotel's doorstep, plane be damned. But today Sam had only caught Dean's voice mail and didn't know where he was exactly, or what he was doing. Before he was able to find out, he got caught red-handed.
"Sam Winchester, you close that computer right now!"
Sam put his hands up and rolled the office chair slowly away from the desk.
"Sorry Ellen."
She looked furious and Sam shivered. It was not a good idea to piss her off.
"You know you have no business poking around in that machine. You remind me I’ve got to make it secure ASAP." She gave him a small smile. "But nice to see you, boy. Great job with the bokor. Pedro went to pay him a visit and it seems you actually convinced him not to raise hell anymore."
That was good to hear, and Sam nodded with satisfaction.
"Cool."
"Hungry? I should have some leftover pizza in the fridge, if Ash didn't wolf it down since the last time I looked."
"No thanks, I stopped for a burger on the way over. Got anything else for me?"
"Another case, you mean? Dean should be here tomorrow, and yeah, I’ve got something for you two."
The thing was, the zombie case had gone so smoothly; it had only taken four days. Sam needed more time on his own - just a bit more - before going rejoining Dean and falling back into old habits. He wasn’t ready yet. He used the puppy-dog eyes.
"Please Ellen? Come on, just a little something else on my own. Just this once. Well, one more time"
She squinted, suspicious.
"Is everything alright between you two? You didn't fight or anything, did you? Tell me the truth, Sam."
Staring right back, Sam did his best to keep his face innocent.
"No, we didn't fight," And it was the truth, after all. Sam didn't need time alone because of a fight. "But I swear, I need a breather or I'll throttle the guy, family or not. Please, Ellen."
Sighing, Ellen went to her desk, shooed Sam off the chair and opened a file on the computer. After clicking here and there, she turned the screen towards Sam.
"Well, okay. But after that, you need to check in with Dean. He's distracted when you're not with him, doesn't have his head in the game as well as he should. Boy's a hazard when you’re off on your own. You know you’ve got to be there to ground him."
"I swear I will. Thanks Ellen." Sam pointed at the picture on the screen. "What's the story?"
She stood up and went to get a file in a digitally locked file cabinet, gave it to Sam before sitting back down.
"The Golden Nugget, Las Vegas. One of the first casinos built there and still a household name. It struggled a bit with the tidal wave of concept casinos, only to bounce back in the last few years, due to clever new management and lots of investment. In the last, oh, roughly six years, there’s been a string of deadly accidents among their big winners. Enough to be suspicious even to the police, but they didn't find anyone to blame."
There were maybe a dozen gruesome shots of men and women twisted in unnatural ways, looking somewhat surprised on the glossy paper immortalizing their last moments. Sam grimaced.
"Any leads?"
Ellen shrugged, and then closed her computer.
"MO makes it look like a pissed-off ghost, but a powerful one. I had a hunter over there maybe six months ago, and we thought we’d solved the problem. But there was another death last month, same MO, so we have to start all over again. I've included a bit of research on several potential suspects who died suspiciously in the casino since the ‘50's. Problem is, they’re buried all over the states, not in Sin City."
Nodding, Sam closed the file.
"Okay, I guess the first step is to narrow it down. I'll get on it."
"Go see Ash before you leave. And call your brother or he'll be worried sick."
Sam smiled, kissed Ellen on the cheek with a 'thanks' and went to Ash's room. The sign said he was in, so Sam knocked, closing his eye as a precaution when Ash opened the door.
"Hey, Sam, my man! Come in!"
There were loud music and suspicious smells as was to be expected, and Sam smiled while keeping his eyes shut.
"You sure you're decent?"
A loud laugh, and he was dragged in by the arm.
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry, you prude. Come in." Sam opened his eyes and saw with relief that his host was actually wearing pants. Ash quickly went to the work bench set in the corner of his room, taking a seat and amiably chatting away. "I don't know what you did to the bokor, but the old man sounded terrified, if Pedro is to be believed," more conspiratorially, he whispered "and I always believe Pedro." A pointed look accompanied that statement, and Sam had to refrain from laughing out loud.
"Glad to hear it. Ellen said you might have something for me?"
That brought Ash back on track and he started rummaging through the pile of electronics on his desk.
"Yes, yes. I do. Here."
He produced a slick Vaio TX laptop, thin and silver. A couple of programs were running when Ash woke it up. Obviously he had outdone himself.
"Here you go. I've been working on this for you guys for a while now. Omen tracking included, plus several high performance translators, easy hacked entrance into federal databases in shortcut, a supernatural search engine I've programmed myself, etc, etc."
Sam nodded, impressed, and Ash looked smug.
"That's awesome, dude. Do you have a bag for it?" Ash threw him one that he fished out from under his bed and Sam started to pack it up. "Can't wait to check it out on the plane to Vegas."
"E put you on the Nugget case?"
"Yeah."
"Damnit."
Even though he was pouting, Ash started to search his bed frenetically until he produced a cell phone that he threw to Sam. A Sony Ericsson, looked brand new too.
"Huh. I've already got a phone, Ash."
"Not as sexy! You'll need that one, man. Fuck, I guess Ellen wasn’t kidding when she said I wouldn't get to do that gig." Ash sighed dramatically. "But what can you do? Okay, so, we've got a full cover for ya, but you'll have to give me fifteen, so I can put your pic on the ID."
He ruffled stuff on his work bench and threw a Blackberry at Sam, who caught it with one hand.
"Why this too?"
Ash smirked.
"Open it and be amazed."
When Sam turned it on, it took him a beat to understand what he was seeing. He was looking at a completely digital, sophisticated EMF reader. You had to examine it closely to be able to tell it was not a regular Blackberry. Impressive, indeed.
"You can turn off the sound as you monitor a room or an object, way more discreet."
"Cool. Are you sure the electronics are..." One look at Ash's raised eyebrows and Sam stopped his criticism. "Of course, I'm sure it works great."
"It was tested thoroughly, works like a charm. I knew you'd appreciate it. Once you get to Vegas, go to Tony's garage to get the rest of the stuff. His number and coordinates are in the contacts of the other phone, as are the details about your new identity. There’s a goddamn sweet ride over there for you, and even cash to play the jet-setter."
It was clear that Ash had planned this job for himself and Sam felt a bit guilty about taking away his fun.
"I didn't mean to..."
He was shushed immediately and pushed towards the door.
"Nah, it's alright. I guess Ellen can't bear to let me go, even for a coupla days. Now, let me work my magic on those cards. Someone’s got to work around here."
****
A ‘sweet ride’ was in fact a massive understatement. Sam's jaw almost hit the floor when Tony rolled the silver Aston Martin DBS V12 out of the garage. Sam wasn't car obsessed like his brother, but a man ought to have some respect for such a perfect machine. The car had a couple of secret compartments with medical equipment and several stacks of money that looked legit, a perfect complement to James Fleming’s platinum credit card. Clearly Ash watched too many movies, but Sam had reason to know that people easily bought over-the-top aliases, as if they were too outrageous to be false.
The first thing Sam did was to buy some clothes to fit the part: a couple of suits, a tux, several dress shirts, silk boxers and pajamas, swim trunks that he was sure were a very bad idea, and honest to god Italian leather shoes and appropriate luggage to pack it all in (that he knew he'd catch shit over if he ever got caught with it by Dean). Speaking of the devil, he had left a short voice mail to his brother, saying he'd left on another hunt by himself and that he'd catch up later. He wasn't looking forward to hearing Dean's reaction to that one.
Some say that clothes don't make the man, but Sam felt like a million bucks when he rolled up in front of the Golden Nugget. He gave the valet the keys and let the bell boy handle the luggage, then strolled towards the counter and without a hesitation booked the suite the hostess suggested. He deserved a break from the worst motel rooms of America, thank you very much.
The suite itself was vast and luxurious, with a large dining and leisure area, an expansive bedroom with a massive king bed and a bathroom that was bigger than some of the motel rooms Sam had seen in the last months. Sam was so entranced while at the same time trying to play it blasé that he only reacted when they bell boy took the bags to the bedroom and started to open the luggage, probably to hang his clothes. Shit, the tux was par for the course, but the sawed-off shotgun, .45 and canister of salt would surely attract unwanted attention. He stopped the young guy with a smile and a hefty tip, then sent him on his way.
Before starting any kind of investigation of the casino, Sam decided to read the case file once more. He had meant to do so on the plane, but had played with Ash's kick-ass computer settings instead, marveling once again at the sheer skill the guy had with electronics. Sam reviewed all the cases of the guests who had died in the last six years, and then the facts about the potential suspects listed in the other file. The only visible link between the victims was that they had all won pretty big right before they had met their violent ends. Sam was interrupted by the sound of his stomach violently growling and was surprised to see that it was well after eight o’clock. He considered calling room service, but getting a first feel for the place was probably a better idea, so he put his tie back on and grabbed his jacket and wallet.
Like many things in Las Vegas, the Golden Nugget could be described as over-the-top. Luxury was everywhere, from the gaming areas to the many restaurants and boutiques. Sam blinked at one point when he saw directions to the obligatory hotel pool... with a shark tank. A basin with real sharks, of course separated from the rich swimmers by heavy glass so they only had the illusion of danger and exoticism. Still, Sam's mind boggled.
Dean would be like a kid in a candy store here, he thought. Not for the first time in the last five days, Sam actually missed his brother to the point that it physically ached deep in his chest, even if he was sure that Dean was alive and breathing. Sighing, he shook it off and decided he'd come back to see the pool properly the next day.
There were plenty of dining options to choose from, but Sam decided to eat at Red Sushi, a rare bit of indulgence. He sat at the counter, watching the staff prepare the colorful and, as it turned out, excellent sushi and sashimi. It was quite a change from cheeseburgers and pizza and Sam found himself enjoying the sushi even more than he anticipated.
When Sam left the restaurant, he decided it was time to explore the gambling area. He left aside the too-loud slot machines and just strolled from table to table for a while, trying to look captivated by his false Blackberry. There was no unusual supernatural activity at first glance, but he'd have to come back when there were fewer people and sweep the place more thoroughly. If there was a time with fewer people, that is. Sam had his doubts about that, since the few times he and Dean had come through Las Vegas, the town sure didn't seem to sleep much, but it did gamble 24/7.
Most of the victims had won at cards, primarily at poker. Moving away from the area with the craps, blackjack and roulette tables, Sam entered the poker room. He expected a smoke-filled cavern like in the old movies, but anti-smoking laws had changed all that, and instead the air smelled like money and expensive perfume. The ten tables were full and the room filled with plenty of on-lookers. Sam stuck near a table, watching for the tells of the other players out of habit. One or two knew what they were doing, the rest were obviously overeager rich tourists who lacked poker faces. When a loud middle-aged man decided he had lost enough and left his seat, Sam took it and smiled in the direction of the other players.
The dealer - ‘Vanessa’ said her name tag - was blond and tiny, with playful blue eyes. Only when he changed cash for chips did Sam realize the minimum bet was five hundred dollars. It could have been more -- way more -- but even with money generated god knows how, it still felt wrong to put so much cash down to play cards. Sam hated losing though, always had, so he played to win and it paid off. He was on a roll, folding at the right time or else winning big more often than not. The chips started piling up, higher and higher, and when he heard cheering after he revealed a flush he realized that he was starting to draw attention.
Somewhere along the way a couple of girls had attached themselves to the back of his chair to watch him play. Both were beautiful and dressed to draw the eye to all the right places, but when he made eye contact with them Sam got the feeling that those girls were aiming to eat him alive. He played it cool by politely smiling back, but inwardly he cursed. He might play the part of a jet-setter, but it was to blend in, not to interest the casino's security and potential gold diggers. While waiting to deal the next hand, Vanessa grinned at him and winked, obviously amused by the situation. Sam shook his head and leaned over the table, gesturing for her to come closer.
"It's mean to laugh at me."
She laughed out loud at that, throwing her head back and it made Sam grin. She really was gorgeous and way more real than the girls trying to get his attention. Vanessa teased him, speaking low enough that only he could hear.
"Can't help it, that was a ‘deer caught in the headlights’ look if I ever saw one!"
"Admit it, they are scary."
Smiling still, she nodded.
"I'll give you that. But who could blame them, really? You're the best catch in the house tonight, Mr. Fleming."
She winked and stepped back to put a new pack in the shuffler, and the game started again. It was a thrill to have a beautiful woman basically propositioning him again. He'd had a fun and pretty wild night with Manuela in Fajardo, which had ended with a nice breakfast and a laugh for a change. Of course, right now Vanessa thought she was flirting with a rich young man, but in the end, she probably wasn’t looking for more than a fling, so Sam turned up the charm a bit and started flirting back, enough for the girls at his back to sense that they had no chance, at least not tonight. As far as the poker went, Sam toned it down a bit, being careful not to draw more attention. Luck was on his side, though, and he got some incredible hands. By one o'clock, he was feeling the weight of the long day and decided to call it a night. To his astonishment, when he did a quick survey of his chips, he realized he had over 50,000 dollars in net gains. Sam grinned at Vanessa, while he gave her a hefty tip.
"Not a bad night. I'd say you brought me luck."
"Good to hear and nice for me! Will you be back?"
Her job, of course, to bring happy players back to her table. But there was definitely more to it - it wasn't hard to read between the lines.
"Sure! Do you work tomorrow?"
Vanessa smiled, eyes twinkling.
"Yes, I finish this shift in about an hour, then I'm back tomorrow afternoon."
It was the moment to cast the line, and the hum of the chase made Sam's blood run faster. He bent forward and she came near to hear what he had to say.
"Can't wait to see you again."
Her breath was hot against his ear when she answered, it made him shiver.
"It may be sooner than you think, Mr. Fleming."
"It can't come soon enough."
They exchanged heated gazes and Sam stood up and followed one of the casino's employees, who carried his chips to the booth. Fortunately, Ash had provided fake tax info along with Sam’s fake ID. Sam acted as if cashing $50,450 was something he did every day, and he ended up with a very nice Golden Nugget check for his trouble. None of the employees even seemed suspicious, just congratulated him and wished him a good night, please come back to play with us, sir. Smiling widely, Sam thought he might do just that.
***
Sam took a long, scalding shower and brushed his teeth, put on his new black silk pajama pants and tried to watch a bit of TV, but now that he was ready for bed he was almost vibrating with anticipation and fully awake. He had a gut feeling that Vanessa would come knocking on his door after her shift. He wondered for a moment if he was too full of himself, thinking that, and what if all she had meant was that he'd see her around tomorrow or something? Maybe she expected him to wait for her after her shift? He looked at the time on the DVD player and cursed softly. Too late for that now, since her shift had ended fifteen minutes ago. Sam sighed and decided that it was time to sleep anyway, get a few hours in before starting to investigate for real. He was on a job, after all.
He was about to turn off the TV, shutting up down an exerciser infomercial, when he heard very light rasping on his door. Sam jumped to his feet, his heart instantly beating faster. He took three deep breaths and opened the door, trying to act cool and collected. It was in fact Vanessa, smiling up at him and then pointedly giving him a once over, her smile widening as she detailed his bare chest and stomach before her attention returned to his eyes.
"Hey." He grinned and stepped back to let her in. "Care for a nightcap?"
"Sure. But I won't even pretend I'm here just for that."
Vanessa smiled playfully, coming in but snaking an arm around his neck as soon as Sam closed the door. He leaned down to kiss her, and it soon heated up as she molded herself to him, her other hand sliding down to his ass and palming it. He chuckled and hauled her up easily as she wrapped her legs around his waist.
"Okay then. How about we skip the nightcap altogether?"
She mouthed at his neck, before licking it and nibbling on his earlobe.
"Perfectly fine with me."
Sam carried her to the bedroom and climbed on his knees onto the big white bed before laying her down on it. He took his time undressing her, even when she made impatient noises as he kissed every inch of skin he uncovered. She was tiny but still deliciously curvy, skin tanned golden in sharp contrast with her lacy white underwear.
"You're killing me, James. Come on," she urged, after he finally took her skirt off and started kissing her leg from the ankle up. Sam was briefly distracted by his pretend name but she smelled sweet, tasted even better, and he was so hard it didn't really matter, not when this was just casual sex and they'd part ways in the morning. So he didn't say anything, just bit her thigh and grinned up at her when she cursed loudly, hitting the bed in impatience.
"You in a hurry or something?"
She writhed on the bed, her lower lip between her teeth, pupils blown.
"Yeah, damnit! I fantasized about you all night. So come on and fuck me!"
It was tempting, really tempting, to just push her panties aside and slide in, feel her clench around him. He mouthed the damp fabric, her smell strong and intoxicating and she keened loudly. Another sound filtered through though - knocking of some sort. Sam ignored it and went back to kissing Vanessa, deep and dirty as her hands roamed his chest, then went to his waistband and tried to push down his pajama pants.
The knocking had become pounding and it was enough to get Sam's attention and make him realize that it was at his door. What the fuck? Could his earlier winnings have prompted security to do a background check that somehow linked him to his former FBI file? If so, he was so screwed. Vanessa had heard the knocking too and she was frowning at him.
"Expecting someone? I hope it's not your girlfriend."
"No! I have no idea..." Sam got up, wondering if he could sneak out a window or something, if he needed to grab a gun, if he should ask Vanessa to play the hostage...
"Sam?" A beat. "Sam? Are you okay? Open the damn door!"
It was one of those screech-to-a-halt moments: Dean?
Dean was still pounding at the door and anytime now Sam knew that he would start trying to kick it in, so he hurried to open it before he attracted attention.
"The fuck, Dean! Are you insane?"
Something close to panic morphed rapidly to deep relief on his brother's face. There was a door opening on the other side of the corridor, probably a pissed-off guest awakened by the din, so Sam fisted his hand in Dean's shirt and pulled him inside.
"Sam!"
"Jesus! What's your problem?"
The smile on Dean's face fell and was quickly replaced by irritation.
"I tried to call a million times, text, everything. You didn't pick up!"
Shit. It did made sense since Sam had forgotten his regular phone in the car, and had been using the one Ash gave him all day.
"Paranoid much? That doesn't mean I'm about to die, Dean. Come on!"
"How could I know?” Dean said, raising his voice. “You didn't answer the damn phone! And what the fuck are you doing in Vegas, anyway?"
Before he had time to reply, a cough came from the bedroom doorway. Both guys turned to an incredulous Vanessa, in white lace undies and nothing else.
"What's going on here?"
Dean blinked, and then looked at Sam who tried his best to smile.
"It's a misunderstanding. I'm sorry you were worried, Dean... but I'm busy. I'll call you."
He truly expected his brother to leer, to say something borderline inappropriate or even to clap him on the shoulder in approval. He was therefore totally taken by surprise when Dean's jaw tensed and his gaze turned icy cold.
"Oh, is that so? That's why you ditched me? To get laid?"
Sam blinked, totally taken aback.
"What?"
Almost sneering, Dean turned to Vanessa and said "Christo!" very clearly, with no result, thank god, although she did look baffled and a little worried. It made Sam see red.
"Oh, no no no. You can't think..."
Dean didn't look apologetic in the least at implying that Sam was still mingling with demons. In fact he got right up in Sam's personal space, tried to stare him down, which made Sam straighten up, feet set apart as if they were about to fight.
"Again, how could I know, Sam? Huh?"
It wasn’t fair and Sam didn't deserve this mistrust, not anymore. He had been sure that they were over that, since they had come clean of most of the secrets between them. Sam didn't understand why Dean was overreacting, but it seemed that he wasn’t finished yet.
"If you wanna get laid, just go ahead! What is it, do I cramp your style? Do you need a separate room for privacy?"
Sam was about to protest that all of this made absolutely no sense when Vanessa, now mostly dressed and carrying her shoes in her hand, passed by them to get to the door. She stopped near Sam and it only took one look to tell that she was pissed.
"Okay, James, so this was very close to awesome, but I'm out of here."
"Hey, no, it's okay, I..."
He tried to stop her but she dodged his hand.
"Just... no. I really don't have time for this shit."
Dean and Vanessa exchanged a hate-filled look, which was followed by that superior grin of Dean’s that meant he wasn’t up to any good and that generally led to violence.
It was then that it struck Sam like a bolt of lightning: Dean was not just mad at being abandoned or worried about Sam’s safety. He was jealous.
Vanessa left the room, slamming the door behind her and it was clear from Dean’s expression that he was pleased with that outcome.
He turned to Sam and he still had that heat in his eyes, feral and dangerous. It made Sam harder than he'd been earlier with Vanessa, so suddenly that he stumbled backwards.
"She's hot, I'll give you that." Dean pushed Sam back against the wall and held him there with his forearm across the chest. Still too stunned to react, Sam just swallowed, wavering between a deep need to get the fuck away right now and an even stronger urge to haul Dean flush to his body, right where he needed him. Dean's eyes followed his Adam's apple and he licked his lips. "You were just about ready to fuck her, right, Sammy? I bet you’d gotten her all worked up and slick."
It was torture, having Dean this close and seemingly willing, but Sam was so confused and afraid that he was reading everything wrong.
"God, Dean!" The words came out breathy and a bit shaky. Sam's world was rocked to the core by this, and now he was wondering if Dean was just really pissed and mean or if he was about to jump Sam’s bones. Dean looked down, saw how Sam was tenting his pajama pants. He was breathing faster himself.
"She got you all worked up, too. Was she blowing you? Is that why you wouldn’t answer the door, too busy fucking her little pink mouth?"
"Dean, fuck, what has gotten into you?"
His brother was still zeroed on his crotch, not listening or at least not answering.
"I could... I bet I'd be better than her."
Sam moaned at that, desperate now. Dean's eyes snapped up, searched his face.
"You'd let me?"
How could anyone refuse that offer? Sam had been sure that his longing was one-sided, meant to be his cross to bear, another sure-fire proof that he had a one-way ticket to Hell. He raised a shaking hand up to Dean's face, let his thumb drag along the lips that had inspired so many wet dreams and it was like a an electricity sparked against his skin when Dean's tongue shot out to touch his finger.
"Please, Dean, please..."
There was barely time for a heartbeat before Dean sank to his knees and yanked Sam's pajama pants and boxers down to his ankles. He looked up then, as he grabbed Sam's cock and there was barely a line of green left around his fully dilated pupils. It was almost enough to make Sam to blow his load right there and then on his brother's face.
"I'm gonna make it so good for you."
Dean's voice was husky and low, as he jacked Sam a couple of times, slow and careful and in total contrast to the rest of his demeanor, only to then lick the head of Sam's dick with a swirl as if it was a lollipop. It was too much to look and feel at the same time, so Sam knocked his head back against the wall and shut his eyes, groaning loudly when Dean took him down, hot and wet beyond belief. Dean knew what he was doing - either he'd sucked cock before or he was using every trick that worked on him. It was messy as hell, but oh, so hot. Dean was moaning like a porn star around Sam’s cock and the sound made Sam feel like he was about to lose it. Sam didn't know what to do with his hands, scratching the wall then gripping Dean's shoulders as he tried to keep as still as possible so as not to choke him. He startled when Dean grabbed his right wrist and brought Sam's hand to the back of his head, pulling back for a second, and growling urgently.
"C'mon, Sammy, give it to me. Fuck my mouth, don't hold back."
Dean swallowed him back down and this time Sam felt him open up enough so that the head of his cock hit the back of Dean's throat. Sam’s fingers reflexively gripped hard in Dean’s short hair as his hips snapped forward for more. Dean swallowed around him and Sam cried out, too much, too hot, starting to thrust shallowly as Dean moaned muffed encouragements. Sam felt his orgasm build fast, pleasure concentrating in his lower belly and he tried to pull Dean off.
"Fuck, Dean, I'm gonna come, I'm..."
Dean just sucked harder, gripping Sam's hips and bobbing his head faster, and with a full body shiver of pleasure Sam came harder than he ever had before, shouting and totally losing any control he had left. He fucked into the welcoming heat of Dean's mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head, the explosion of bliss making him feel like he was about to black out. When he finally came back to himself, Dean was licking softly at his softening dick, almost too much sensation for the over-sensitive flesh. Sam let himself slide down the wall to his knees in front of Dean and crashed their mouths together.
Sam kissed him hard and deep, trying to get the taste of himself out of the way to reach what was purely Dean. His brother keened and tangled his hands in Sam's hair, responding in kind with a battle of teeth and tongue, nips and licks. Sam pushed the shirt away from Dean's shoulders and off, and then pulled up his t-shirt, reluctant to break apart for even the second it took to get rid of it. Dean started to undo his jeans and Sam tried to help, ineffectively yanking at the denim ordering:
"Off, off, off!"
He didn't even wait for Dean to get his pants down, just plunged his hand into the V of his fly as soon as the zipper was opened to grip at his dick and pulled and stroked urgently, rough and fast as Dean fucked his fist. Within a couple of seconds Dean was spilling over his hand with a chant of SamSamSamSammySam, face hidden in Sam's neck and fingers twined so tight in his hair that Sam thought he might be about to pull it out.
They were both panting and dazed, but when Sam let Dean's cock go and wiped his hand on his discarded shirt, he could feel his brother start to tense up. Dean slowly unclenched his fingers and rubbed Sam's scalp softly, but didn't look up. After a minute, Sam could hear him whisper something over and over against his collarbone. He had to strain to understand what it was but when he did his stomach dropped.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."
Shushing him, Sam sat back on his haunches and pulled Dean up close until they were chest to chest, making him straddle his thighs and sit on his lap. Dean came willingly enough and didn't let go, which reassured Sam a little. He rubbed small circles on his brother's back, speaking softly as he would to a skittish colt.
"It's okay Dean. It's okay. Shhhh. Don't freak out on me, please, just don't." Sam didn't know how to reassure him that he had nothing to worry about. "I wanted it as much as you did, if not more. I've wanted this for so long, Dean. Shhh."
It did make Dean relax a bit, but he still wouldn't meet Sam’s eyes, so Sam cradled his brother's head in his hands and softly pried him away from his neck, peppering his jaw with small kisses until he reached Dean's mouth. Dean still had his eyes closed, but when Sam kissed him, he kissed back. Dean would have to face the truth sooner or later, so Sam gave him one last kiss and drew back.
"Hey, hey. Look at me, man. C'mon." Dean opened his eyes and Sam tried to smile, but there was so much confusion and fear in there that he didn't quite manage it. "It's okay."
Dean made an incredulous snort at that, almost a sob.
"How? How can this be okay?"
"It can be - as long as it's okay for us. I don't care what anybody says. I wanted this. And not just this once. I want you."
Dean blinked at him, the borderline panic receding, but Sam could tell he wasn’t convinced.
"I really do, Dean. It's fine. Please."
"You sure about that?"
This time Sam did manage to smile, let his fingers trail around Dean's ear, caressing his neck.
"Yeah, I swear. And... you know... who'd pass up the chance to have sex with The Dean Winchester?"
That gave Dean the chance to fall back into familiar territory and he caught the ball on the rebound, even if his small smile lacked amusement.
"Well duh. You’d be crazy not to."
"Exactly." Dean started to get up, but Sam held him in place with an arm around his waist. He gripped his brother's chin, forcing him to meet his eyes again, serious this time. He didn't want Dean to think this was a one time thing. Sam knew Dean was used to being wanted for his looks alone, but if Sam confessed that he was madly in love with him, he’d have Dean running for the hills. "I’m not just fooling around here, Dean. And if that’s all it is for you, then it's going to be a problem."
Dean squirmed and flushed a bit, but when he answered he was earnest.
"It's not, Sammy. I swear."
"Good.
To end this conversation, at least for now, Sam kissed Dean again, mapping his mouth slowly and thoroughly. As he had always imagined, Dean was a wickedly good kisser and Sam realized that chances were he’d never get enough of it. When they parted, Dean got to his feet and offered Sam a hand up too. Sam purposely stood directly in Dean's personal space, looming over him intently. Dean's breathing hitched and he licked his lips. Sam jerked his head towards the bedroom.
"It's late. Let's get some sleep."
Dean nodded and led the way. The fact that he didn’t make any lewd remarks confirmed to Sam that Dean was still shaken and being careful of whatever they were starting. He did stop short in the doorway upon catching sight of the king-sized bed. If Sam was honest, it scared him too, embodying this unequivocal change in their relationship. He decided to act as it was no big thing, taking the side farthest from the door on purpose. He slipped between the sheets, lying on his side turned towards the middle of the bed. Dean slowly untied his boots and shrugged off his jeans; Sam pretended not to notice Dean’s slight hesitation before taking off his boxers too. He let Dean set the distance between them and at first Dean left a good foot of empty space between them, turning his back towards Sam, who couldn’t help worrying that he'd wake up alone when Dean had a second freak-out sometime in the night.
Turning off the light, Sam whispered, "'Night, Dean."
The timeless response was automatic.
"Sweet dreams, Sammy."
But Sam couldn’t shut his eyes, could only look at the curve of Dean's shoulder, the dark shape of his brother contrasted with the white wall of the room. Dean was right there, close enough to touch, though Sam didn't dare.
"Stop staring, you freak," Dean grumbled.
Sam laughed, surprised.
"Sorry."
With a put upon sigh, Dean scooted back until there was barely any distance left between them, making Sam smile so wide his cheeks hurt.
"C'mon,” Dean huffed. “You know you wanna. You've always been a freakin' octopus."
With such an unmistakable invitation Sam was not about to deny himself, so he put his arm around Dean's chest and buried his nose in the soft short hair of his nape, kissing him softly.
"You love it. Admit it, you're the biggest cuddler ever."
Dean grunted but apart from elbowing Sam quite hard, he stayed put. His breathing soon evened out, lulling Sam to sleep.
( part 2 here)