SPN FIC, An Unusual Predicament of Utmost Import, R
Title: An Unusual Predicament of Utmost Import
Rating: R
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Sam/teen!Dean, Sam/Dean/Sam, Sam/Dean/Jared/Jensen
Summary: “One day, Dean woke up as a kitten. Things went downhill from there.” TOTAL CRACK.
Word Count: 2,567 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural. If I did, you could be assured that Jensen and Jared would be kissing one another a whole lot more. And maybe doing other stuff. In my bedroom office.
Author’s Note: I have no excuse for this one. This is basically just my attempt to fit in as many crack clichés as possible into one fic. I shall call it mega!crack. ^_____~
One day, Dean woke up as a kitten.
Things went downhill from there.
***************************************************
“So apparently we’re under some sort of curse,” said Sam.
“No shit, Sherlock,” said Dean.
“Is this your time of the month, or something?” said Sam.
“What, now that I’m a girl I must be PMSing? Huh? That’s the only reason I could possibly be in a bad mood, is that it? Well fuck you, Sam! Fuck. you.”
“I liked you better as a kitten,” said Sam.
“Yeah, well I liked you better as a yak,” said Dean. Then, irritably: “Christ, I could kill for some chocolate right now! And, dude. Stop staring at my tits.”
***************************************************
“Don’t say it,” warned Dean. “Not one word, you hear me?”
Sam blinked at him.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” said Sam. “…And why do you have wings?”
***************************************************
“Now this one I like,” said Dean, panting into Sam1’s collarbone as Sam2 pressed up close against his back.
Two mouths, two cocks, two sets of hands, all for Dean.
They would feel guilty about it, except-well.
The sex pollen made them do it.
***************************************************
“Ouch!” said Dean.
“Do you think you could stop whacking my head against things for, like, two seconds, please?” said Sam. “I’d like to not have a concussion when we switch back into our bodies.”
“It’s hard being a Gigantor,” said Dean, rubbing mournfully at his-well, Sam’s, really-forehead.
So far he’d smacked it against two doorframes, the shower-curtain rod, the showerhead, the door of the Impala, and the branch of a small tree. It made for one bitch of a headache.
Sam sat down at the nearest booth, wincing, and Dean followed suit.
“Hey, Dean,” said Sam, looking uncomfortable. “Do you usually get pinched on the butt this often? Because enough is enough, man. It’s starting to bruise.”
***************************************************
“I can’t,” said Sam. “You’re too young.”
“Dude,” said Dean. “I’m pretty, I’m horny, and I’ve been magically de-aged into my 18-year-old-body. Do not pussy out on me here.”
Well, when he put it that way…
So Sam fucked him. A lot.
They ended up going through two bottles of lube, five candy bars, seven sticks of beef jerky, three sets of sheets, a mega-pack of condoms, and five bottles of Gatorade before they stopped. Dean turned back to his regular age somewhere in the middle of that.
It’s totally okay, though. A succubus made them do it.
***************************************************
It was Sam, but it wasn’t Sam.
This Sam was older; tougher. He had more scars and shaggier hair (if that was even possible), and, inexplicably, a katana.
This was future!Sam.
“Save the cheerleader, save the world,1” said future!Sam, looking badass and…future-y.
“What?” said Dean. “Dude, obscure much? And why-”
“Hey, should I be seeing you right now?” asked present!Sam, worried. “I mean, isn’t the world supposed to explode or something if we meet?”
“Oh snap,” said future!Sam. “Um. Gotta run!”
And then he disappeared.
“He could have at least given me tomorrow’s lottery numbers,” said Dean. “Bitch.”
A pause.
“And why the hell was he wearing a dress?”
***************************************************
At first Sam and Dean had thought the two men were shapeshifters, but they turned out to be actors, which was almost as bad.
“So, um, pleasedon’tshootus,” said Jared Pada-Padalemki. Padaleski. Pada-whatever.
“Please-and-thank-you,” said Jensen McPrettyface. His actual last name was probably not McPrettyface, but Dean had gotten distracted by his lips during the introductions and had had to fill in the blanks.
“We could never kill such attractive people,” said Dean, benevolently.
“We couldn’t?” said Sam.
“Well, not when they’re, like, innocent and stuff,” said Dean. “Now go talk to Jared Pada-whatever. I have a very serious matter to discuss with McPrettyface.”
“What?” said Sam, but Dean was already gone, sidling over to Jensen with a bright, sex-slow smile.
“Hey, baby. Ever wondered what it would be like to make out with yourself?” said Dean.
“Um,” said Jensen.
“Because I was thinking we could try it. It would be totally hot,” said Dean.
“Damn you for your irrefutable logic,” said Jensen. “But I’m dating Jared. Sorry.”
“Hey, it’s cool. I’m okay with it,” said Jared. “As long as Sam and I get to join in.”
“You old dog, you,” said Dean to Jared, more than a little admiringly.
It turns out, foursomes? Are all about coordination.
…Nothing made them do it that time.
***************************************************
“Oh, my God,” said Dean.
“It’s not that bad,” said Sam.
“OH MY FUCKING GOD,” said Dean.
“You’re overreacting.”
“YOU FUCKER!” said Dean. “You knocked me up!”
Dean hurled the pregnancy test at him, but Sam dodged.
“In all fairness, it might not be mine,” said Sam. “I mean, it could be Jared’s. Or Jensen’s. That was a crazy couple of days…”
“I’m an unwed mother,” wailed Dean. “I could be having my brother’s baby. Or the baby of someone who looks just like my brother. Or of someone who looks just like me!”
Dean gasped.
“What if I’m having a me!baby?” he said. “What if I’m having a gorgeous, freak-of-nature ME!BABY?”
“I think I need a drink,” said Sam.
“I think I need a bottle of whiskey,” said Dean, and glared down at the soft round curve of his belly. “But I can’t, because I don’t want to have a retarded me!baby!”
Sam sighed.
***************************************************
“I’ve got to tell you, I’m feeling Christ’s divine love with us right now,” said Dean.
“You don’t even believe in God!” said Sam.
“Dude, don’t be blasphemous,” said Dean.
“I refuse to believe that you’ve somehow gotten turned into a…a priest,” said Sam. “It’s just-not logical. I should be the priest, if anything.”
“Accept the miracle of faith where it’s given, man,” said Dean.
“Whatever,” said Sam.
Sam tugged uncomfortably at his thin undershirt-the only top he was wearing, alarmingly-and shifted from foot to foot.
He grimaced.
The leather pants were beginning to chafe.
“And why am I a hooker?!” said Sam.
And then they had sex.
Let’s just accept that there’s some malevolent supernatural force compelling them to, okay?
***************************************************
“So now I’m the priest and you’re the hooker?” said Sam, brow furrowing. “The curse has never repeated itself like this.”
“Kinky,” said Dean, and blinked. The mascara was itching.
And was that lip gloss he was wearing? He licked his lips to see.
Yeah. Yeah, it definitely was.
What. the. fuck.
“So, um. Obviously we need to-I mean, we need to figure out-” said Sam, faltering.
Sam didn’t seem to mind the lip gloss. Like, at all. He was focusing rather intently on Dean’s mouth, actually.
“Twenty for a blow job, big boy,” said Dean. “Fifty for anything more.”
“Uh. Do you take personal checks?” said Sam.
“For you, padre? Anything.”
Dean fingered the crisp white band of Sam’s collar; tugged him gently forward.
“Praise God,” Sam told him, and slipped his fingers underneath Dean’s skin-tight shirt.
He’d say some Hail Mary’s afterwards to even things out.
***************************************************
The next time, they were both priests.
“This is fucked-up,” said Dean, unbuttoning his pants.
***************************************************
“A vampire. Huh,” said Dean.
“I hate my life,” said Sam.
“You’re not going to go berserker on me, right?” said Dean. “Like, you won’t go into a feeding frenzy or anything?”
“We’ll steal some blood transfusions from the hospital if we need to,” said Sam. “In the meantime, just…shut up and try not to look tasty.”
“Impossible,” said Dean. “On the plus side, I didn’t change into anything this time, so that’s an improvement.”
And then he turned into a werewolf.
“You were saying?” said Sam.
***************************************************
“Virgins,” said Dean, flatly.
“Fuck-or-die curse,” lamented Sam.
“It turned. us back. into virgins!” said Dean.
“Honestly, Dean, I’m a little bit more concerned with the dying part right now,” said Sam.
“Deny Picasso his paints, deny Shakespeare his pen, but do not deny Dean Winchester his motherfucking sex!” said Dean, flushed red and wild-eyed.
“Hey, Dean? You alright there?” said Sam.
“We’re solving this problem now,” said Dean. “How much time do we have left?”
“Forty-five minutes,” said Sam. “If we wait any longer than that, we’re dead.”
“Then I suggest we get naked and have some hot, gay, incestuous monkey sex,” said Dean. Sam blushed.
They took off their clothing.
“What now?” said Sam.
“…Uh,” said Dean. “I don’t know.”
“Well, what the hell are we supposed to do?” said Sam.
“How the hell should I know?!” said Dean. “I’m as new to this as you are!”
“We’d better figure something out,” said Sam. “We’re down to thirty-seven minutes.”
“We can do this,” said Dean. “I mean, it’s not exactly rocket-science, right? We can wing it. We’ll need…um. Lube, probably. Right? And then I can just…stick it in you.”
“Me?” said Sam. “Why me?!”
“Because I’m older and I said so,” said Dean.
“No, fuck that,” said Sam “Rock, paper, scissor you for it.”
“Oh, you suck,” said Dean, when Sam’s rock beat his scissor.
“Get on the bed and shut up,” said Sam.
“You suck out loud,” said Dean, and got on the bed.
Sam rooted around in their duffels until he found some lube-half-used, he noticed, and he was sure there was an interesting story behind that-and got his cock slicked up, and worked a finger in Dean, too, and then just…went for it.
“Oh, ow, FUCK!” said Dean. “Are you trying to fuck me or KILL ME?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” said Sam. “I’ll be more careful!”
“I’ve been stabbed by a penis,” moaned Dean, curling up on his side and holding his stomach defensively. “This is the worst day of my life!”
“I’ll be gentler this time,” said Sam.
“Fuck no, get that thing away from me!” said Dean. “Work your geekboy mojo and research it online. Until then, no can do.”
“But we only have thirty minutes left!” said Sam.
“Then I suggest you hurry.”
Sam did.
Fifteen minutes and a Google crash-course in gay sex later, Sam was ready.
Five minutes after that…
“OH FUCK, DO THAT AGAIN!” said Dean.
They didn’t die, if that’s what you were wondering.
***************************************************
“I’m not touching you. I’m not touching you. I’m not touching you. I’m not touching you,” said Sam, from across the room.
Dean glared at him. Sam smiled back.
“I’m not touching you. I’m not touching you. I’m not-”
“Seriously, man, cut it out!” said Dean. “That’s really annoying!”
Dean bitterly, bitterly cursed whatever freaky-ass curse was doing these things to them.
This time it had given Sam increased control over his telekinesis…an ability which Sam promptly exploited. He used it to agitate Dean.
An hour ago it had been phantom fingers brushing against the back of Dean’s neck, making him jerk around and causing the waitress to look at him funny before he’d told her it was epilepsy.
He’d been halfway convinced a ghost was molesting him and was planning to come back and torch the sucker by the time Sam had fessed up.
Now Sam was tormenting him by poking him over and over again with his mind, and Dean was getting ready to strangle the little shit.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Sam, grinning, “since I couldn’t possibly be doing anything to you from all the way over here.”
“Sam, I’ll throw your laptop in the bathtub, I swear,” said Dean.
“You wouldn’t!” said Sam.
“Try me.”
“Fine, whatever,” said Sam. He stopped.
Dean went back to cleaning the guns.
A few minutes passed.
Then, there it was-the light press of an invisible hand on Dean’s thigh; a skittering touch against his side.
“Sam?” said Dean.
“Shh,” Sam said. His eyes were closed; a little crease of concentration had appeared in the space between his eyebrows. “Just let me try this.”
Pressure, inquisitive and fleeting at Dean’s lips;
the slow crawl of fingertips at the waistline of Dean’s boxer-briefs;
the tightness of a palm curved lewd around Dean’s cock, pulling rough and perfect and yesyesyes;
the slightest tease at Dean’s prostate, again and again and sending him spiraling over the edge in many-colored waves, his orgasm wet inside his jeans.
Maybe Sam’s new ability wasn’t so bad, after all.
But the little bitch was definitely doing the laundry.
***************************************************
“You got kidnapped by pornographers,” said Sam.
“Shut it,” said Dean.
“Dude. You got kidnapped by evil. ghost. pornographers,” said Sam. “And I saved you!”
Sam was entirely too happy about this, Dean thought.
“What, do you want a hug, or something?” said Dean, batting at the dust on the knees of his jeans.
Sam blinked.
“Y’know, now that you mention it,” said Sam. “Yeah. Yeah, I really kind of do.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” said Dean.
“Come on, don’t be a girl about this,” said Sam. “It’s just one hug. It won’t kill you.”
“Are you gonna be a whiny little bitch about it if I don’t?” said Dean.
“Probably,” said Sam.
Dean sighed-the heavy sound of a man suffering a great injustice.
“Fine, get your Jolly Green ass over here,” said Dean.
And then it happened.
Sam’s arms went around Dean’s shoulders; Dean’s hands laid flat against the broad plane of Sam’s back; their heads tucked together like two friends, tight and warm and solid.
A hug.
“FINALLY,” boomed a voice.
Sam and Dean immediately sprang away, drawing their guns and scanning their surroundings.
“You can put the guns away, fellas,” said the voice. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Yeah, because I’m really going to take your word on that,” said Dean.
“Good point,” said the voice. “Listen, I’m just trying to tell you that the curse is broken, okay? The hug was the key all along.”
“WHAT?” said Dean.
“Seriously?” said Sam. “That’s it?”
“But-” said Dean. “But that’s so lame! It sounds like a bad plot device!”
“…Shut the fuck up, it does not,” said the voice.
“No, Dean, wait,” said Sam. “It all makes so much sense now, can’t you see? This whole thing was just trying to show us that we need each other-that the only way to beat the demon and to be happy is if we stand together against it and don’t lose hope.”
“Um, yes. Yes, that’s it exactly!” said the voice.
“Dude, I think she’s just perverted,” said Dean.
“Well, that too,” said the voice. “Um. Gotta run!”
And then it disappeared.
“Let’s have sex,” said Sam.
Dean gawked at him.
“But-nothing is making us do it this time,” said Dean. “There’s no sex pollen or succubi or fuck-or-die curse. There’s no telekinesis or look-alikes or funky mystical transformations. There’s nothing to blame it on anymore. There’s just…us.”
“Yeah,” said Sam. “I’m okay with that.”
“Oh,” said Dean. A pause. He smirked, then; all teeth and knowing.
“Oh,” said Dean again. “Well. I see.”
Sam grinned at him and hauled him in for a kiss.
And then they had sex. Really, really good sex.
And they both lived happily-
“Wait,” said Dean. “Don’t give it away!”
Then what do you want me to say, then?
“Sammy, what’s our next case?” said Dean.
“We still need to save that cheerleader,” said Sam.
“Well, you heard him,” said Dean.
Yeah, okay.
And so Sam and Dean set off on a new adventure, and saved a lot of people along the way.
Yes. Yes, that’s it exactly.
THE END
1 Future!self and “Save the cheerleader, save the world,” were totally ripped off from Heroes.
Rating: R
Pairings: Sam/Dean, Sam/teen!Dean, Sam/Dean/Sam, Sam/Dean/Jared/Jensen
Summary: “One day, Dean woke up as a kitten. Things went downhill from there.” TOTAL CRACK.
Word Count: 2,567 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own Supernatural. If I did, you could be assured that Jensen and Jared would be kissing one another a whole lot more. And maybe doing other stuff. In my bedroom office.
Author’s Note: I have no excuse for this one. This is basically just my attempt to fit in as many crack clichés as possible into one fic. I shall call it mega!crack. ^_____~
One day, Dean woke up as a kitten.
Things went downhill from there.
***************************************************
“So apparently we’re under some sort of curse,” said Sam.
“No shit, Sherlock,” said Dean.
“Is this your time of the month, or something?” said Sam.
“What, now that I’m a girl I must be PMSing? Huh? That’s the only reason I could possibly be in a bad mood, is that it? Well fuck you, Sam! Fuck. you.”
“I liked you better as a kitten,” said Sam.
“Yeah, well I liked you better as a yak,” said Dean. Then, irritably: “Christ, I could kill for some chocolate right now! And, dude. Stop staring at my tits.”
***************************************************
“Don’t say it,” warned Dean. “Not one word, you hear me?”
Sam blinked at him.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” said Sam. “…And why do you have wings?”
***************************************************
“Now this one I like,” said Dean, panting into Sam1’s collarbone as Sam2 pressed up close against his back.
Two mouths, two cocks, two sets of hands, all for Dean.
They would feel guilty about it, except-well.
The sex pollen made them do it.
***************************************************
“Ouch!” said Dean.
“Do you think you could stop whacking my head against things for, like, two seconds, please?” said Sam. “I’d like to not have a concussion when we switch back into our bodies.”
“It’s hard being a Gigantor,” said Dean, rubbing mournfully at his-well, Sam’s, really-forehead.
So far he’d smacked it against two doorframes, the shower-curtain rod, the showerhead, the door of the Impala, and the branch of a small tree. It made for one bitch of a headache.
Sam sat down at the nearest booth, wincing, and Dean followed suit.
“Hey, Dean,” said Sam, looking uncomfortable. “Do you usually get pinched on the butt this often? Because enough is enough, man. It’s starting to bruise.”
***************************************************
“I can’t,” said Sam. “You’re too young.”
“Dude,” said Dean. “I’m pretty, I’m horny, and I’ve been magically de-aged into my 18-year-old-body. Do not pussy out on me here.”
Well, when he put it that way…
So Sam fucked him. A lot.
They ended up going through two bottles of lube, five candy bars, seven sticks of beef jerky, three sets of sheets, a mega-pack of condoms, and five bottles of Gatorade before they stopped. Dean turned back to his regular age somewhere in the middle of that.
It’s totally okay, though. A succubus made them do it.
***************************************************
It was Sam, but it wasn’t Sam.
This Sam was older; tougher. He had more scars and shaggier hair (if that was even possible), and, inexplicably, a katana.
This was future!Sam.
“Save the cheerleader, save the world,1” said future!Sam, looking badass and…future-y.
“What?” said Dean. “Dude, obscure much? And why-”
“Hey, should I be seeing you right now?” asked present!Sam, worried. “I mean, isn’t the world supposed to explode or something if we meet?”
“Oh snap,” said future!Sam. “Um. Gotta run!”
And then he disappeared.
“He could have at least given me tomorrow’s lottery numbers,” said Dean. “Bitch.”
A pause.
“And why the hell was he wearing a dress?”
***************************************************
At first Sam and Dean had thought the two men were shapeshifters, but they turned out to be actors, which was almost as bad.
“So, um, pleasedon’tshootus,” said Jared Pada-Padalemki. Padaleski. Pada-whatever.
“Please-and-thank-you,” said Jensen McPrettyface. His actual last name was probably not McPrettyface, but Dean had gotten distracted by his lips during the introductions and had had to fill in the blanks.
“We could never kill such attractive people,” said Dean, benevolently.
“We couldn’t?” said Sam.
“Well, not when they’re, like, innocent and stuff,” said Dean. “Now go talk to Jared Pada-whatever. I have a very serious matter to discuss with McPrettyface.”
“What?” said Sam, but Dean was already gone, sidling over to Jensen with a bright, sex-slow smile.
“Hey, baby. Ever wondered what it would be like to make out with yourself?” said Dean.
“Um,” said Jensen.
“Because I was thinking we could try it. It would be totally hot,” said Dean.
“Damn you for your irrefutable logic,” said Jensen. “But I’m dating Jared. Sorry.”
“Hey, it’s cool. I’m okay with it,” said Jared. “As long as Sam and I get to join in.”
“You old dog, you,” said Dean to Jared, more than a little admiringly.
It turns out, foursomes? Are all about coordination.
…Nothing made them do it that time.
***************************************************
“Oh, my God,” said Dean.
“It’s not that bad,” said Sam.
“OH MY FUCKING GOD,” said Dean.
“You’re overreacting.”
“YOU FUCKER!” said Dean. “You knocked me up!”
Dean hurled the pregnancy test at him, but Sam dodged.
“In all fairness, it might not be mine,” said Sam. “I mean, it could be Jared’s. Or Jensen’s. That was a crazy couple of days…”
“I’m an unwed mother,” wailed Dean. “I could be having my brother’s baby. Or the baby of someone who looks just like my brother. Or of someone who looks just like me!”
Dean gasped.
“What if I’m having a me!baby?” he said. “What if I’m having a gorgeous, freak-of-nature ME!BABY?”
“I think I need a drink,” said Sam.
“I think I need a bottle of whiskey,” said Dean, and glared down at the soft round curve of his belly. “But I can’t, because I don’t want to have a retarded me!baby!”
Sam sighed.
***************************************************
“I’ve got to tell you, I’m feeling Christ’s divine love with us right now,” said Dean.
“You don’t even believe in God!” said Sam.
“Dude, don’t be blasphemous,” said Dean.
“I refuse to believe that you’ve somehow gotten turned into a…a priest,” said Sam. “It’s just-not logical. I should be the priest, if anything.”
“Accept the miracle of faith where it’s given, man,” said Dean.
“Whatever,” said Sam.
Sam tugged uncomfortably at his thin undershirt-the only top he was wearing, alarmingly-and shifted from foot to foot.
He grimaced.
The leather pants were beginning to chafe.
“And why am I a hooker?!” said Sam.
And then they had sex.
Let’s just accept that there’s some malevolent supernatural force compelling them to, okay?
***************************************************
“So now I’m the priest and you’re the hooker?” said Sam, brow furrowing. “The curse has never repeated itself like this.”
“Kinky,” said Dean, and blinked. The mascara was itching.
And was that lip gloss he was wearing? He licked his lips to see.
Yeah. Yeah, it definitely was.
What. the. fuck.
“So, um. Obviously we need to-I mean, we need to figure out-” said Sam, faltering.
Sam didn’t seem to mind the lip gloss. Like, at all. He was focusing rather intently on Dean’s mouth, actually.
“Twenty for a blow job, big boy,” said Dean. “Fifty for anything more.”
“Uh. Do you take personal checks?” said Sam.
“For you, padre? Anything.”
Dean fingered the crisp white band of Sam’s collar; tugged him gently forward.
“Praise God,” Sam told him, and slipped his fingers underneath Dean’s skin-tight shirt.
He’d say some Hail Mary’s afterwards to even things out.
***************************************************
The next time, they were both priests.
“This is fucked-up,” said Dean, unbuttoning his pants.
***************************************************
“A vampire. Huh,” said Dean.
“I hate my life,” said Sam.
“You’re not going to go berserker on me, right?” said Dean. “Like, you won’t go into a feeding frenzy or anything?”
“We’ll steal some blood transfusions from the hospital if we need to,” said Sam. “In the meantime, just…shut up and try not to look tasty.”
“Impossible,” said Dean. “On the plus side, I didn’t change into anything this time, so that’s an improvement.”
And then he turned into a werewolf.
“You were saying?” said Sam.
***************************************************
“Virgins,” said Dean, flatly.
“Fuck-or-die curse,” lamented Sam.
“It turned. us back. into virgins!” said Dean.
“Honestly, Dean, I’m a little bit more concerned with the dying part right now,” said Sam.
“Deny Picasso his paints, deny Shakespeare his pen, but do not deny Dean Winchester his motherfucking sex!” said Dean, flushed red and wild-eyed.
“Hey, Dean? You alright there?” said Sam.
“We’re solving this problem now,” said Dean. “How much time do we have left?”
“Forty-five minutes,” said Sam. “If we wait any longer than that, we’re dead.”
“Then I suggest we get naked and have some hot, gay, incestuous monkey sex,” said Dean. Sam blushed.
They took off their clothing.
“What now?” said Sam.
“…Uh,” said Dean. “I don’t know.”
“Well, what the hell are we supposed to do?” said Sam.
“How the hell should I know?!” said Dean. “I’m as new to this as you are!”
“We’d better figure something out,” said Sam. “We’re down to thirty-seven minutes.”
“We can do this,” said Dean. “I mean, it’s not exactly rocket-science, right? We can wing it. We’ll need…um. Lube, probably. Right? And then I can just…stick it in you.”
“Me?” said Sam. “Why me?!”
“Because I’m older and I said so,” said Dean.
“No, fuck that,” said Sam “Rock, paper, scissor you for it.”
“Oh, you suck,” said Dean, when Sam’s rock beat his scissor.
“Get on the bed and shut up,” said Sam.
“You suck out loud,” said Dean, and got on the bed.
Sam rooted around in their duffels until he found some lube-half-used, he noticed, and he was sure there was an interesting story behind that-and got his cock slicked up, and worked a finger in Dean, too, and then just…went for it.
“Oh, ow, FUCK!” said Dean. “Are you trying to fuck me or KILL ME?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” said Sam. “I’ll be more careful!”
“I’ve been stabbed by a penis,” moaned Dean, curling up on his side and holding his stomach defensively. “This is the worst day of my life!”
“I’ll be gentler this time,” said Sam.
“Fuck no, get that thing away from me!” said Dean. “Work your geekboy mojo and research it online. Until then, no can do.”
“But we only have thirty minutes left!” said Sam.
“Then I suggest you hurry.”
Sam did.
Fifteen minutes and a Google crash-course in gay sex later, Sam was ready.
Five minutes after that…
“OH FUCK, DO THAT AGAIN!” said Dean.
They didn’t die, if that’s what you were wondering.
***************************************************
“I’m not touching you. I’m not touching you. I’m not touching you. I’m not touching you,” said Sam, from across the room.
Dean glared at him. Sam smiled back.
“I’m not touching you. I’m not touching you. I’m not-”
“Seriously, man, cut it out!” said Dean. “That’s really annoying!”
Dean bitterly, bitterly cursed whatever freaky-ass curse was doing these things to them.
This time it had given Sam increased control over his telekinesis…an ability which Sam promptly exploited. He used it to agitate Dean.
An hour ago it had been phantom fingers brushing against the back of Dean’s neck, making him jerk around and causing the waitress to look at him funny before he’d told her it was epilepsy.
He’d been halfway convinced a ghost was molesting him and was planning to come back and torch the sucker by the time Sam had fessed up.
Now Sam was tormenting him by poking him over and over again with his mind, and Dean was getting ready to strangle the little shit.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Sam, grinning, “since I couldn’t possibly be doing anything to you from all the way over here.”
“Sam, I’ll throw your laptop in the bathtub, I swear,” said Dean.
“You wouldn’t!” said Sam.
“Try me.”
“Fine, whatever,” said Sam. He stopped.
Dean went back to cleaning the guns.
A few minutes passed.
Then, there it was-the light press of an invisible hand on Dean’s thigh; a skittering touch against his side.
“Sam?” said Dean.
“Shh,” Sam said. His eyes were closed; a little crease of concentration had appeared in the space between his eyebrows. “Just let me try this.”
Pressure, inquisitive and fleeting at Dean’s lips;
the slow crawl of fingertips at the waistline of Dean’s boxer-briefs;
the tightness of a palm curved lewd around Dean’s cock, pulling rough and perfect and yesyesyes;
the slightest tease at Dean’s prostate, again and again and sending him spiraling over the edge in many-colored waves, his orgasm wet inside his jeans.
Maybe Sam’s new ability wasn’t so bad, after all.
But the little bitch was definitely doing the laundry.
***************************************************
“You got kidnapped by pornographers,” said Sam.
“Shut it,” said Dean.
“Dude. You got kidnapped by evil. ghost. pornographers,” said Sam. “And I saved you!”
Sam was entirely too happy about this, Dean thought.
“What, do you want a hug, or something?” said Dean, batting at the dust on the knees of his jeans.
Sam blinked.
“Y’know, now that you mention it,” said Sam. “Yeah. Yeah, I really kind of do.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” said Dean.
“Come on, don’t be a girl about this,” said Sam. “It’s just one hug. It won’t kill you.”
“Are you gonna be a whiny little bitch about it if I don’t?” said Dean.
“Probably,” said Sam.
Dean sighed-the heavy sound of a man suffering a great injustice.
“Fine, get your Jolly Green ass over here,” said Dean.
And then it happened.
Sam’s arms went around Dean’s shoulders; Dean’s hands laid flat against the broad plane of Sam’s back; their heads tucked together like two friends, tight and warm and solid.
A hug.
“FINALLY,” boomed a voice.
Sam and Dean immediately sprang away, drawing their guns and scanning their surroundings.
“You can put the guns away, fellas,” said the voice. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Yeah, because I’m really going to take your word on that,” said Dean.
“Good point,” said the voice. “Listen, I’m just trying to tell you that the curse is broken, okay? The hug was the key all along.”
“WHAT?” said Dean.
“Seriously?” said Sam. “That’s it?”
“But-” said Dean. “But that’s so lame! It sounds like a bad plot device!”
“…Shut the fuck up, it does not,” said the voice.
“No, Dean, wait,” said Sam. “It all makes so much sense now, can’t you see? This whole thing was just trying to show us that we need each other-that the only way to beat the demon and to be happy is if we stand together against it and don’t lose hope.”
“Um, yes. Yes, that’s it exactly!” said the voice.
“Dude, I think she’s just perverted,” said Dean.
“Well, that too,” said the voice. “Um. Gotta run!”
And then it disappeared.
“Let’s have sex,” said Sam.
Dean gawked at him.
“But-nothing is making us do it this time,” said Dean. “There’s no sex pollen or succubi or fuck-or-die curse. There’s no telekinesis or look-alikes or funky mystical transformations. There’s nothing to blame it on anymore. There’s just…us.”
“Yeah,” said Sam. “I’m okay with that.”
“Oh,” said Dean. A pause. He smirked, then; all teeth and knowing.
“Oh,” said Dean again. “Well. I see.”
Sam grinned at him and hauled him in for a kiss.
And then they had sex. Really, really good sex.
And they both lived happily-
“Wait,” said Dean. “Don’t give it away!”
Then what do you want me to say, then?
“Sammy, what’s our next case?” said Dean.
“We still need to save that cheerleader,” said Sam.
“Well, you heard him,” said Dean.
Yeah, okay.
And so Sam and Dean set off on a new adventure, and saved a lot of people along the way.
Yes. Yes, that’s it exactly.
THE END
1 Future!self and “Save the cheerleader, save the world,” were totally ripped off from Heroes.