Supernatural: 8 Wincest Drabbles
Hey guys! Here is part one (um, not counting the knotting porn...) of my anniversary drabbles, Wincest (8 in total)! These are all Sam/Dean EXCEPT THE FIRST ONE. That's Sam/Dean/Mary, I put it first for easy skipping if it squicks you, so just click on the second and you can read right down. :D
Title: Chicken Soup for the Grown Ass Soul
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean/young!Mary
Rating: PG-13 for Language and Sexual Suggestion (including cross-generational incest)
Word Count: 155
Author’s Note: Written for lavendergaia’s prompt: “young!Mary/boys in any combination.” Thank you for the AIDS gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Mary takes care of her boys.
It’s when his mother tells him to “suck it up, you’re a full grown man,” then pours a fifth of whiskey over him and his little brother’s stitches that Dean realizes just how fucked up his life is.
Or, you know, maybe it’s the fact that said Mom just stabbed the monster that was trying to eat him with a fire poker. Or it’s the fact that she’s younger than him and technically died twenty-something years ago.
Maybe it’s when Sam moves forward, pulls her back from trying to go cook dinner, until she leans down for a kiss, and Dean can’t take his eyes off how beautiful they are.
Probably he should be sure they’re all a fucked up mess by the time he’s lying in bed, Mary pressed between him and Sam, all of them naked and smiling. But then, she hums The Beatles; Dean can’t find it in himself to care.
Title: Dry Spell
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: pre-Sam/Dean, attempted Dean/OFC(/Sam)
Rating: PG-13 for Sexual Suggestion
Word Count: 463
Author’s Note: Written for cackling_madly’s prompt: “Sam and Dean go to a bar and meet a hot, tiny chick who insists they are fucking!” Thank you for the AIDS gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Dean tries to pick a girl up in a bar. She informs him he should be picking Sam up, instead.
She’s definitely pretty cute. Long brown hair and a skirt so short it almost doesn’t even deserve to be called a skirt.
Dean’s in a bit of a dry spell--three solid weeks since he got laid--and this little chick across the bar is not even pretending she’s not interested. Usually, Dean likes a little more chase than this, but tonight? He’s spent too long pent up in a room, car, whatever with his brother lately, and not nearly enough time reminding himself there are other things to look at in the world, people he’s allowed to touch.
Right now he’ll take anything, and tiny is four beers in and not going to make him wait.
He takes one last shot of whiskey and grins at her, which makes her look down, smiling slightly. Too fucking easy. He heads right for her.
“Hey, there, sweetheart, I’m Dean.”
She looks up at him through long lashes and grins. “Hi, Dean.”
“What’s you na--?”
Before Dean can finish, there’s a big, strong hand on his shoulder, a shaggy head when he turns to face his brother. And fuck, why can’t Dean just have five minutes to forget Sam’s touches drive him wild.
“Dean, we should go,” he says, all urgency and panties-in-a-knot.
Dean scowls. “What? Why? We don’t have work until late tomorrow. I was just about to ask...”
He looks at the girl awkwardly, and she laughs. “Gia.”
“I was just about to ask Gia to have a few drinks with me.”
Sam pouts a little.
“With us?” Dean tries.
Gia’s eyes light up. “Look, if you guys are trying to get me drunk enough to agree to a threesome--I’m down already.”
Dean’s eyes want to crawl out of his head. In other news, his dick seems to think it’s an awesome idea.
“What?” asks Sam. “Whoa, no. We’re brothers.”
She tilts her head to one side, like she’s inspecting them, trying to decide something. “You guys shouldn’t tell all the girls you’re trying to hook about that part of the relationship. Might scare some people off.” She puts on her purse, smiles at them. “So are we doing this or what?”
Dean stares, not sure if he’s more stunned by how fast she figured him out or disturbed and turned on that she’s still up for it. “We don’t--we don’t,” is all he can manage.
She looks over at Sam, who doesn’t hold her gaze, and Dean doesn’t get the joke when she laughs. She pats him on the arm with one tiny hand, as if indulging a child making a stupid comment. “Okay, you boys just figure your stuff out and come find me when you’ve got it all worked out.”
Then she slides off her bar stool and disappears into the crowd.
Title: Public Displays
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1105
Author’s Note: Written for obstinatrix’s prompt: “Sam/Dean, pretending to be a couple.” Thank you for the breast cancer gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Sam and Dean pretend to be gay for a case.
“You guys should totally kiss,” says Lindsay, almost clapping with excitement.
Dean feels Sam’s body go stiff where his fingers brush his brother’s thigh, and Dean’s probably no better. Lindsay isn’t even a lesbian; from what Dean has gathered, she just comes to these meetings because she gets really, weirdly excited about gay dudes. Or something.
“Uh, no, we’re good, thanks,” says Dean. He smiles brightly. “Sammy here hates public displays, you know how it is.” Dean pats Sam’s thigh, and Sam makes an uncomfortable face. It’s either really good acting, or Dean is actually playing the gay thing up too much. Which, like, Dean is just not feeling sorry. It was Sam’s stupid idea to even take this hunt.
Lindsay pouts prettily, Dean wonders if he could get away with using the “I want to experiment with girls” line on her, but then she gets up and walks off to the refreshment table to chat with the group leader about a walk or a protest, Dean wasn’t actually listening during the meeting.
“So what’d’ya think, Sam. She giving you ancient rhino monster vibes?”
“Not really,” Sam admits. “But she’s the only one in the group who doesn’t have a reason to be here.”
Dean shifts awkwardly in his seat. “You don’t think she’s really just this into gay sex, right?”
Sam shrugs.
“I’m gonna go talk to Roger again. I think he has a crush on me, maybe I can use my charms to get him talking.”
Sam smirks. “If you wanna get his number, Dean, you can just--”
“Bite me, Sam,” Dean replies, standing to go.
“Hell yeah!” says some fairy behind them, flailing his arms and smiling like it’s the happiest day of his life. “You two get a room.”
He shakes his ass at them for a few seconds, then bounces off, back across the room. The pep around here is going to be the death of Dean.
Roger doesn’t have much to say that’s useful, and he keeps asking Dean if he and Sam are those weird, monogamous gays, or if he can ask Sam out. Dean glares back, and informs him that no, he may not. If Dean’s gonna be gay, he’s not sharing his bitch.
He uses the refreshment table as his out and finds that Lindsay is still standing there, pouring punch. Dean smiles and approaches her, and she leans towards him. “Sam’s full of shit, ya know.”
Dean stands up a little straighter, but he doesn’t let himself give anything away. And dammit, they're both full of shit, but Sam could have at least pretended to be gay. “About what?”
“The public displays thing!” She grins. “I dated a guy a few years back who said the same thing, but he loved it. You just gotta catch him off guard and show him who’s boss.” She pauses and gives Dean a coy look. “You are boss, aren’t you?”
“Well, of course,” he replies, looking across the room at Sam. His brother is talking to a lesbian couple, looks like he’s having a good time. “But he really does hate--”
Lindsay shakes her head. “Walk over there right now and kiss him. I bet you $50 he likes it.”
“I just don’t know if that’ll--”
“Ohh,” says Lindsay, nodding. “I guess you just don’t know Sam as well as you thought. If you won’t even take a strangers bet.”
Dean glares. Because hey, no. It’s not like he wants to kiss his brother, but he’s damn well not about to let some crazy chick go after his balls like that. Anyway, Sam will obviously freak out, even if it’s not for the reason she’ll think it is.
“You’re on,” he says, putting his cup down on the table and walking across the room with purpose.
Sam doesn’t even get much time to notice Dean’s there. He starts talking, trying to introduce Dean to the women, but Dean pulls him down, lands a nice solid kiss on his brother’s lips. He doesn’t try to deepen it, braces himself for the punch, but when Sam lifts his hands, it’s not to hit Dean.
He presses his giant hand to the back of Dean’s neck, holds Dean in place, and licks his way past Dean’s lips. He kisses hard, desperate--it’s good acting. It’s actually kind of hot. Except, you know, not, because Sam’s his brother and they’re just pretending for a case, and Dean really, really hates this case, because before it, he never actually thought kissing Sam could be kind of incredibly hot.
A crowd starts cheering around them, and Sam opens his eyes, breaks the contact, stepping away from Dean with a startled expression. “Uh, I...” he says.
Dean shakes his head, grabs Sam’s jacket and pushes him toward the door. He stops next to Lindsay, handing her a $50. “We’re gonna go.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you are,” says someone in the crowd.
Lindsay’s eyes sparkle. “I’ll let you keep the cash if you let me watch.” Dean just keeps walking. She laughs behind them. “I’ll take it that’s a no, then.”
They don’t talk until they get to the car, and Dean starts the engine, pulling away from the rec center the LGBT group was holding its meeting in.
“Dean, I can explain,” Sam begins as they hit the road.
Dean laughs. “Nothing to explain. I’m the one that kissed you. You were just playing along.” Dean grins over at Sam. “Sorry, by the way. I took a bet.”
“No, Dean, I...” Sam drums his fingers on his jeans and sighs. “Pull over.”
“Why?”
“Because I like this car and I don’t want you to crash it. Pull over.”
That gets Dean’s attention, so he parks on the side of the road. “What’s up, Sammy?”
“I chose this job for a reason, Dean, and I think I should tell you it now.”
“Rhino monsters really piss you off?”
“I wanted to tell you. I’ve wanted to tell you for years. I thought maybe this would be a good way to get you warmed up to the idea, but then you kissed me, and I kissed you back, and now I screwed it up, and--”
“Sam, slow down. What are you talking about?”
“I’m in love with you,” says Sam. “I’m sorry, but I am. I think I’ve always been.”
Dean stares at his brother, trying to figure out if he’s joking, but Sam is calm and looks a little scared, so Dean is pretty sure he’s serious. Dean lets it sit for a few seconds, then shrugs. “Wanna go get dinner, Sammy? I’m starving.”
Title: Dean Winchester and the Entirely Uneventful, Move-Along-There’s-Nothing-to-See-Here Day
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 229
Author’s Note: Written for morganoconner’s prompt: “Sam/Dean, their first kiss is totally an accident.” Thank you for the AIDS gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Dean is having a totally normal day. In which he kisses his brother.
Today is a totally normal day.
It is a totally normal day that started with Dean kissing his brother.
Which, you know, is totally fine and okay, because Sam and Dean fall a lot in their line of work, and sometimes they fall on each other, and really, it was only a matter of time before they just so happened to trip onto each other’s mouths.
It’s not a big deal, Dean’s already mostly forgotten it happened. He’s definitely not fixating, or feeling awkward, or doing anything he would be doing today if today was not a totally normal day.
Okay, so it was kind of nice. That’s not that weird. Sam is a nice guy. No reason kissing him, whether intentional or accidental (which this was, for the record), shouldn’t be nice, too. Dean’s the asshole. It would only be weird if Sam thought it was nice, which he clearly didn’t. Because Sam is acting totally normal. Just like Dean. Who feels fine, by the way.
The kiss, or whatever it was, is a nonissue. It didn’t get in the way of their hunt and it hasn’t changed anything, hell, they could kiss all the time, and it wouldn’t change anything. Not that Dean wants to kiss Sam all the time or anything like that.
Because he totally doesn’t. Unless Sam were to kiss him first.
Title: Scholarly Pursuits
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13 for Sexual Suggestion, Language, and Gratuitous English Major Pretension
Word Count: 375
Author’s Note: Written for de_nugis’s prompt: “anything with Dean reading or writing using Sam's naked back as desk.” Thanks for the Gulf Aid v-gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Dean reads literary theory and Sam gets turned on by weird things.
“What are you even doing back there?” Sam asks, exasperated. It’s not like Dean getting up to mischief behind Sam’s back is new, but he’s been doing whatever for half an hour now, and Sam’s still stumped. And if Dean is going to keep him up, Sam at least wants to be getting laid.
“Readin’,” says Dean, sounding a little sleepy but very content.
And, okay. That wasn’t what Sam was expecting, but okay. “What’re you reading?”
Dean mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘Sedgwick.’
“What was that?” asks Sam.
Dean slaps the book flat against Sam’s back. “I said suck my dick,” Dean answers. “Mind your own business.”
Sam attempts to turn and see this for himself, but Dean holds him in place. “Hold still, Sasquatch. I’m trying to annotate.”
“And you decided my back was the best desk available?”
“It’s carved out of marble, Sammy.”
“Kissing my ass will get you nowhere,” Sam replies.
“Oh,” Dean says. “I didn’t feel like getting out of bed, then.”
Sam can’t help shaking slightly with surprised laughter. “Where’d you even hear about Eve Sedgwick, Dean?” Sam asks.
“From your mo--” Dean stops, realizing how tasteless finishing that joke would be. He lets out a long sigh, like he’s literally deflating. “Laptop,” he finishes lamely.
“Stop going through my things!”
“Stop writing papers that use literature as a thin veil for analyzing your own feelings,” Dean retorts. “Sedgwick thinks you’re gay by the way.”
“Really? That’s all she has to say about this?” Sam rolls over to give his brother a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t think incest was in her field. Unless it was. Was it?” Dean holds up a copy of Between Men. “This is all the local library had, but maybe we can pick the incest one up in the next town we sto--”
Sam interrupts Dean with a kiss, pulling him close. Dean pushes him away. “Mmm, Dean,” says Sam, angling for another one. “So hot right now.”
Dean pets Sam on the shoulder. “Yeah, dude, hold on. I have like five more pages to the end of this chapter.”
Title: Thunderstorms
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 211
Author’s Note: Written for openbones’s adorable prompt: “Dean/Sam, rainy days, and stolen moments in the back seat of the Impala. Doesn't have to be porny.” Thanks so much for the AIDS v-gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Sam and Dean have to wait a storm out in the Impala. Sam doesn’t really mind.
Technically, they should be pissed, or worried, or something. They should be freaking out about the job and time constraints and Dad. They shouldn’t be happy. This shouldn’t be a good situation.
But they’ve been stressing about jobs non-stop for months, they’ve gotten no closer to finding Dad, and Sam doesn’t see the point of worrying when it’s warm in here, the rain dropping on the roof is soothing, Dean wraps around him like a blanket.
Sam missed this, missed his brother like a limb, even if he’s not allowed to say so. Missed this car, which he hadn’t really stopped to think about before he left for Stanford, but which makes perfect sense.
He smiles now, lets himself get lost in the familiar almost-homey scent of the Impala’s leather mixing with Dean’s sweat around him. They won’t be able to drive for hours, not in this storm. They’ve got hours, and Sam wants to spend them exactly like this.
Lightning flashes in through the windows, shortly followed by a loud crash of thunder. Sam startles, just a little.
“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asks, half-teasing and half-concerned. “Not still scared of thunderstorms?”
Sam burrows deeper into Dean’s arms. “Fuck off,” he says.
Dean nuzzles his nose into Sam’s neck, laughing quietly.
Title: Tourist Season
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG for Language. Spoilers for 6.22.
Word Count: 382
Author’s Note: Written for waterofthemoon’s prompt: “Sam/Dean, sleepy bed sharing! With them having to crowd close because the beds are too small but not caring because it's THEM.” Thanks so much for the AIDS v-gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Sam and Dean get stuck sharing one very little bed.
Dean drops his duffel loudly by the door. “Fuck, man. It’s even worse than I expected.”
Sam crowds into the room behind him, blinks at the bed pushed into the corner. It is indeed very small, and there’s just one thin blanket, one pillow. It doesn’t look like it even can sustain their weight.
“Fuckin’ tourists,” Dean is grumbling in the background. “Who calls ahead and reserves a room in a motel?”
“People who already tried all the hotels in town and found them booked solid for the season?”
Dean makes an unamused face and strips down to his boxers. He heads for the bathroom, but Sam crawls into bed, still too shaken to worry about things like brushing his teeth. He stares at the white wall in front of him and tries to keep his mind equally blank. He misses Dean finishing in the bathroom and turning off the lights, only remembers where he is when he feels his brother’s hand press against his back.
“You want me to sleep on the floor, Sammy?” he asks softly. “Give you a little more room.”
Sam shakes his head without turning to face Dean. He’s just realized there are tears on his cheeks, though he can’t remember why he was crying, and on the off chance Dean didn’t hear, Sam doesn’t want him to see them.
He shoves closer to the wall in front of him, liking the false sense of protection it provides. With Dean pressing behind him and solid white plaster ahead, Sam can almost pretend his nightmares won’t be so bad.
Dean rests his head on the pillow behind Sam, takes Sam in his arms and kisses gently. Sam smiles, wonders if he can stay awake, stay right here forever. And Sam knows he won’t, but he also knows he’ll wake up in a few hours, shaking and terrified, and Dean will be pushing his hair away from his face, whispering nonsense to calm Sam down. If he has to go back to Hell, Sam thinks, this is the best way it could happen.
“Dean,” he says.
“Yeah, Sam?”
“I’m glad they only had one bed.”
Dean is quiet for a few seconds. He pulls Sam in a little tighter. “Yeah,” he finally admits. “Me, too.”
Title: Hooked on Phonics
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: R for Sexuality and Language
Word Count: 508
Author’s Note: Written for locknkey’s prompt: “Sam/Dean, body writing.”
Summary: Dean needs to memorize his exorcisms. Sam gets creative with teaching.
The first time it happens, Dean isn’t entirely sure what’s going on. He spreads Sam’s thigh, getting ready to suck at the skin until he reaches Sam’s cock and instead of tanned flesh he finds big black letters. Gibberish.
“Sam, what the--?”
“Read it,” says Sam.
Dean looks back at the words on his brothers leg and laughs. “I can’t read this.”
Sam’s legs close right in Dean’s face. “That’s too bad,” he says. “Guess we’ll both have to jerk off tonight.”
It happens again the next night. Dean’s shoving Sam’s shirt up, trying to get his brother’s pants down, and all across his back there’s more of the indecipherable writing. “What the hell?”
“It’s Latin,” Sam says. “You’re getting no where memorizing your exorcisms, Dean.”
“So?”
“So, if you wanna fuck me, you’re gonna have to ask in Latin.”
Dean glares, even though Sam can’t see him, and attempts to sound out the words on Sam’s back. After five minutes of struggling, Sam laughs at him and gets up. “You couldn’t exorcise a cat out of water with that pronunciation, Dean.”
And he actually leaves Dean hanging.
The next night, Dean is undressing for a shower when he sees the same marks on himself. Sam must have written on him while he was sleeping.
“Sam, what is this?” he asks, exiting the bathroom with his shirt bunched up in one hand.
Sam stands up and walks across the room, pushing Dean into the wall. He drops onto his knees and begins to trace over the words with his fingers, pronouncing them slowly. When he’s done, he grins up at Dean. “See?” he says. “I know my Latin.”
Then he sucks Dean off, like that’s his reward.
Dean figures it out after that. Sam turns him over, first thing in the morning, and begins to read something off Dean’s back. Then he fucks Dean lazily.
Dean starts studying. By day four, Dean’s managed enough for a fumbled handjob. By day five, Dean gets to fuck Sammy because he reads the whole ritual off Sam’s ass (and Dean doesn’t even want to know whose help Sam’s been enlisting to get this shit written out in these increasingly improbable places).
On day seven, though, there’s no writing. Not anywhere. And Dean looks--he leaves no stone, or limb, unturned.
Sam just smirks when he asks about it. “That demon you were trapped with, she wouldn’t be impressed with your ability to read the words, Dean. It’s not good if they’re not memorized.”
And that’s just playing dirty.
It takes until day nine. Dean doesn’t even try to touch Sam until then. He strips his brother down, whispering the Latin, pretending to trace the words on Sam’s chest (where they’d been written on day six, Dean can still see them in his mind) with his tongue.
Sam smiles and eats Dean out when he finishes reciting. And all Dean can think is that if this is what studying is like, Dean might have missed the train on going to college, after all.
Title: Chicken Soup for the Grown Ass Soul
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean/young!Mary
Rating: PG-13 for Language and Sexual Suggestion (including cross-generational incest)
Word Count: 155
Author’s Note: Written for lavendergaia’s prompt: “young!Mary/boys in any combination.” Thank you for the AIDS gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Mary takes care of her boys.
It’s when his mother tells him to “suck it up, you’re a full grown man,” then pours a fifth of whiskey over him and his little brother’s stitches that Dean realizes just how fucked up his life is.
Or, you know, maybe it’s the fact that said Mom just stabbed the monster that was trying to eat him with a fire poker. Or it’s the fact that she’s younger than him and technically died twenty-something years ago.
Maybe it’s when Sam moves forward, pulls her back from trying to go cook dinner, until she leans down for a kiss, and Dean can’t take his eyes off how beautiful they are.
Probably he should be sure they’re all a fucked up mess by the time he’s lying in bed, Mary pressed between him and Sam, all of them naked and smiling. But then, she hums The Beatles; Dean can’t find it in himself to care.
Title: Dry Spell
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: pre-Sam/Dean, attempted Dean/OFC(/Sam)
Rating: PG-13 for Sexual Suggestion
Word Count: 463
Author’s Note: Written for cackling_madly’s prompt: “Sam and Dean go to a bar and meet a hot, tiny chick who insists they are fucking!” Thank you for the AIDS gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Dean tries to pick a girl up in a bar. She informs him he should be picking Sam up, instead.
She’s definitely pretty cute. Long brown hair and a skirt so short it almost doesn’t even deserve to be called a skirt.
Dean’s in a bit of a dry spell--three solid weeks since he got laid--and this little chick across the bar is not even pretending she’s not interested. Usually, Dean likes a little more chase than this, but tonight? He’s spent too long pent up in a room, car, whatever with his brother lately, and not nearly enough time reminding himself there are other things to look at in the world, people he’s allowed to touch.
Right now he’ll take anything, and tiny is four beers in and not going to make him wait.
He takes one last shot of whiskey and grins at her, which makes her look down, smiling slightly. Too fucking easy. He heads right for her.
“Hey, there, sweetheart, I’m Dean.”
She looks up at him through long lashes and grins. “Hi, Dean.”
“What’s you na--?”
Before Dean can finish, there’s a big, strong hand on his shoulder, a shaggy head when he turns to face his brother. And fuck, why can’t Dean just have five minutes to forget Sam’s touches drive him wild.
“Dean, we should go,” he says, all urgency and panties-in-a-knot.
Dean scowls. “What? Why? We don’t have work until late tomorrow. I was just about to ask...”
He looks at the girl awkwardly, and she laughs. “Gia.”
“I was just about to ask Gia to have a few drinks with me.”
Sam pouts a little.
“With us?” Dean tries.
Gia’s eyes light up. “Look, if you guys are trying to get me drunk enough to agree to a threesome--I’m down already.”
Dean’s eyes want to crawl out of his head. In other news, his dick seems to think it’s an awesome idea.
“What?” asks Sam. “Whoa, no. We’re brothers.”
She tilts her head to one side, like she’s inspecting them, trying to decide something. “You guys shouldn’t tell all the girls you’re trying to hook about that part of the relationship. Might scare some people off.” She puts on her purse, smiles at them. “So are we doing this or what?”
Dean stares, not sure if he’s more stunned by how fast she figured him out or disturbed and turned on that she’s still up for it. “We don’t--we don’t,” is all he can manage.
She looks over at Sam, who doesn’t hold her gaze, and Dean doesn’t get the joke when she laughs. She pats him on the arm with one tiny hand, as if indulging a child making a stupid comment. “Okay, you boys just figure your stuff out and come find me when you’ve got it all worked out.”
Then she slides off her bar stool and disappears into the crowd.
Title: Public Displays
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1105
Author’s Note: Written for obstinatrix’s prompt: “Sam/Dean, pretending to be a couple.” Thank you for the breast cancer gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Sam and Dean pretend to be gay for a case.
“You guys should totally kiss,” says Lindsay, almost clapping with excitement.
Dean feels Sam’s body go stiff where his fingers brush his brother’s thigh, and Dean’s probably no better. Lindsay isn’t even a lesbian; from what Dean has gathered, she just comes to these meetings because she gets really, weirdly excited about gay dudes. Or something.
“Uh, no, we’re good, thanks,” says Dean. He smiles brightly. “Sammy here hates public displays, you know how it is.” Dean pats Sam’s thigh, and Sam makes an uncomfortable face. It’s either really good acting, or Dean is actually playing the gay thing up too much. Which, like, Dean is just not feeling sorry. It was Sam’s stupid idea to even take this hunt.
Lindsay pouts prettily, Dean wonders if he could get away with using the “I want to experiment with girls” line on her, but then she gets up and walks off to the refreshment table to chat with the group leader about a walk or a protest, Dean wasn’t actually listening during the meeting.
“So what’d’ya think, Sam. She giving you ancient rhino monster vibes?”
“Not really,” Sam admits. “But she’s the only one in the group who doesn’t have a reason to be here.”
Dean shifts awkwardly in his seat. “You don’t think she’s really just this into gay sex, right?”
Sam shrugs.
“I’m gonna go talk to Roger again. I think he has a crush on me, maybe I can use my charms to get him talking.”
Sam smirks. “If you wanna get his number, Dean, you can just--”
“Bite me, Sam,” Dean replies, standing to go.
“Hell yeah!” says some fairy behind them, flailing his arms and smiling like it’s the happiest day of his life. “You two get a room.”
He shakes his ass at them for a few seconds, then bounces off, back across the room. The pep around here is going to be the death of Dean.
Roger doesn’t have much to say that’s useful, and he keeps asking Dean if he and Sam are those weird, monogamous gays, or if he can ask Sam out. Dean glares back, and informs him that no, he may not. If Dean’s gonna be gay, he’s not sharing his bitch.
He uses the refreshment table as his out and finds that Lindsay is still standing there, pouring punch. Dean smiles and approaches her, and she leans towards him. “Sam’s full of shit, ya know.”
Dean stands up a little straighter, but he doesn’t let himself give anything away. And dammit, they're both full of shit, but Sam could have at least pretended to be gay. “About what?”
“The public displays thing!” She grins. “I dated a guy a few years back who said the same thing, but he loved it. You just gotta catch him off guard and show him who’s boss.” She pauses and gives Dean a coy look. “You are boss, aren’t you?”
“Well, of course,” he replies, looking across the room at Sam. His brother is talking to a lesbian couple, looks like he’s having a good time. “But he really does hate--”
Lindsay shakes her head. “Walk over there right now and kiss him. I bet you $50 he likes it.”
“I just don’t know if that’ll--”
“Ohh,” says Lindsay, nodding. “I guess you just don’t know Sam as well as you thought. If you won’t even take a strangers bet.”
Dean glares. Because hey, no. It’s not like he wants to kiss his brother, but he’s damn well not about to let some crazy chick go after his balls like that. Anyway, Sam will obviously freak out, even if it’s not for the reason she’ll think it is.
“You’re on,” he says, putting his cup down on the table and walking across the room with purpose.
Sam doesn’t even get much time to notice Dean’s there. He starts talking, trying to introduce Dean to the women, but Dean pulls him down, lands a nice solid kiss on his brother’s lips. He doesn’t try to deepen it, braces himself for the punch, but when Sam lifts his hands, it’s not to hit Dean.
He presses his giant hand to the back of Dean’s neck, holds Dean in place, and licks his way past Dean’s lips. He kisses hard, desperate--it’s good acting. It’s actually kind of hot. Except, you know, not, because Sam’s his brother and they’re just pretending for a case, and Dean really, really hates this case, because before it, he never actually thought kissing Sam could be kind of incredibly hot.
A crowd starts cheering around them, and Sam opens his eyes, breaks the contact, stepping away from Dean with a startled expression. “Uh, I...” he says.
Dean shakes his head, grabs Sam’s jacket and pushes him toward the door. He stops next to Lindsay, handing her a $50. “We’re gonna go.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you are,” says someone in the crowd.
Lindsay’s eyes sparkle. “I’ll let you keep the cash if you let me watch.” Dean just keeps walking. She laughs behind them. “I’ll take it that’s a no, then.”
They don’t talk until they get to the car, and Dean starts the engine, pulling away from the rec center the LGBT group was holding its meeting in.
“Dean, I can explain,” Sam begins as they hit the road.
Dean laughs. “Nothing to explain. I’m the one that kissed you. You were just playing along.” Dean grins over at Sam. “Sorry, by the way. I took a bet.”
“No, Dean, I...” Sam drums his fingers on his jeans and sighs. “Pull over.”
“Why?”
“Because I like this car and I don’t want you to crash it. Pull over.”
That gets Dean’s attention, so he parks on the side of the road. “What’s up, Sammy?”
“I chose this job for a reason, Dean, and I think I should tell you it now.”
“Rhino monsters really piss you off?”
“I wanted to tell you. I’ve wanted to tell you for years. I thought maybe this would be a good way to get you warmed up to the idea, but then you kissed me, and I kissed you back, and now I screwed it up, and--”
“Sam, slow down. What are you talking about?”
“I’m in love with you,” says Sam. “I’m sorry, but I am. I think I’ve always been.”
Dean stares at his brother, trying to figure out if he’s joking, but Sam is calm and looks a little scared, so Dean is pretty sure he’s serious. Dean lets it sit for a few seconds, then shrugs. “Wanna go get dinner, Sammy? I’m starving.”
Title: Dean Winchester and the Entirely Uneventful, Move-Along-There’s-Nothing-to-See-Here Day
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 229
Author’s Note: Written for morganoconner’s prompt: “Sam/Dean, their first kiss is totally an accident.” Thank you for the AIDS gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Dean is having a totally normal day. In which he kisses his brother.
Today is a totally normal day.
It is a totally normal day that started with Dean kissing his brother.
Which, you know, is totally fine and okay, because Sam and Dean fall a lot in their line of work, and sometimes they fall on each other, and really, it was only a matter of time before they just so happened to trip onto each other’s mouths.
It’s not a big deal, Dean’s already mostly forgotten it happened. He’s definitely not fixating, or feeling awkward, or doing anything he would be doing today if today was not a totally normal day.
Okay, so it was kind of nice. That’s not that weird. Sam is a nice guy. No reason kissing him, whether intentional or accidental (which this was, for the record), shouldn’t be nice, too. Dean’s the asshole. It would only be weird if Sam thought it was nice, which he clearly didn’t. Because Sam is acting totally normal. Just like Dean. Who feels fine, by the way.
The kiss, or whatever it was, is a nonissue. It didn’t get in the way of their hunt and it hasn’t changed anything, hell, they could kiss all the time, and it wouldn’t change anything. Not that Dean wants to kiss Sam all the time or anything like that.
Because he totally doesn’t. Unless Sam were to kiss him first.
Title: Scholarly Pursuits
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13 for Sexual Suggestion, Language, and Gratuitous English Major Pretension
Word Count: 375
Author’s Note: Written for de_nugis’s prompt: “anything with Dean reading or writing using Sam's naked back as desk.” Thanks for the Gulf Aid v-gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Dean reads literary theory and Sam gets turned on by weird things.
“What are you even doing back there?” Sam asks, exasperated. It’s not like Dean getting up to mischief behind Sam’s back is new, but he’s been doing whatever for half an hour now, and Sam’s still stumped. And if Dean is going to keep him up, Sam at least wants to be getting laid.
“Readin’,” says Dean, sounding a little sleepy but very content.
And, okay. That wasn’t what Sam was expecting, but okay. “What’re you reading?”
Dean mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘Sedgwick.’
“What was that?” asks Sam.
Dean slaps the book flat against Sam’s back. “I said suck my dick,” Dean answers. “Mind your own business.”
Sam attempts to turn and see this for himself, but Dean holds him in place. “Hold still, Sasquatch. I’m trying to annotate.”
“And you decided my back was the best desk available?”
“It’s carved out of marble, Sammy.”
“Kissing my ass will get you nowhere,” Sam replies.
“Oh,” Dean says. “I didn’t feel like getting out of bed, then.”
Sam can’t help shaking slightly with surprised laughter. “Where’d you even hear about Eve Sedgwick, Dean?” Sam asks.
“From your mo--” Dean stops, realizing how tasteless finishing that joke would be. He lets out a long sigh, like he’s literally deflating. “Laptop,” he finishes lamely.
“Stop going through my things!”
“Stop writing papers that use literature as a thin veil for analyzing your own feelings,” Dean retorts. “Sedgwick thinks you’re gay by the way.”
“Really? That’s all she has to say about this?” Sam rolls over to give his brother a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t think incest was in her field. Unless it was. Was it?” Dean holds up a copy of Between Men. “This is all the local library had, but maybe we can pick the incest one up in the next town we sto--”
Sam interrupts Dean with a kiss, pulling him close. Dean pushes him away. “Mmm, Dean,” says Sam, angling for another one. “So hot right now.”
Dean pets Sam on the shoulder. “Yeah, dude, hold on. I have like five more pages to the end of this chapter.”
Title: Thunderstorms
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG
Word Count: 211
Author’s Note: Written for openbones’s adorable prompt: “Dean/Sam, rainy days, and stolen moments in the back seat of the Impala. Doesn't have to be porny.” Thanks so much for the AIDS v-gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Sam and Dean have to wait a storm out in the Impala. Sam doesn’t really mind.
Technically, they should be pissed, or worried, or something. They should be freaking out about the job and time constraints and Dad. They shouldn’t be happy. This shouldn’t be a good situation.
But they’ve been stressing about jobs non-stop for months, they’ve gotten no closer to finding Dad, and Sam doesn’t see the point of worrying when it’s warm in here, the rain dropping on the roof is soothing, Dean wraps around him like a blanket.
Sam missed this, missed his brother like a limb, even if he’s not allowed to say so. Missed this car, which he hadn’t really stopped to think about before he left for Stanford, but which makes perfect sense.
He smiles now, lets himself get lost in the familiar almost-homey scent of the Impala’s leather mixing with Dean’s sweat around him. They won’t be able to drive for hours, not in this storm. They’ve got hours, and Sam wants to spend them exactly like this.
Lightning flashes in through the windows, shortly followed by a loud crash of thunder. Sam startles, just a little.
“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asks, half-teasing and half-concerned. “Not still scared of thunderstorms?”
Sam burrows deeper into Dean’s arms. “Fuck off,” he says.
Dean nuzzles his nose into Sam’s neck, laughing quietly.
Title: Tourist Season
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG for Language. Spoilers for 6.22.
Word Count: 382
Author’s Note: Written for waterofthemoon’s prompt: “Sam/Dean, sleepy bed sharing! With them having to crowd close because the beds are too small but not caring because it's THEM.” Thanks so much for the AIDS v-gift, BB! ♥
Summary: Sam and Dean get stuck sharing one very little bed.
Dean drops his duffel loudly by the door. “Fuck, man. It’s even worse than I expected.”
Sam crowds into the room behind him, blinks at the bed pushed into the corner. It is indeed very small, and there’s just one thin blanket, one pillow. It doesn’t look like it even can sustain their weight.
“Fuckin’ tourists,” Dean is grumbling in the background. “Who calls ahead and reserves a room in a motel?”
“People who already tried all the hotels in town and found them booked solid for the season?”
Dean makes an unamused face and strips down to his boxers. He heads for the bathroom, but Sam crawls into bed, still too shaken to worry about things like brushing his teeth. He stares at the white wall in front of him and tries to keep his mind equally blank. He misses Dean finishing in the bathroom and turning off the lights, only remembers where he is when he feels his brother’s hand press against his back.
“You want me to sleep on the floor, Sammy?” he asks softly. “Give you a little more room.”
Sam shakes his head without turning to face Dean. He’s just realized there are tears on his cheeks, though he can’t remember why he was crying, and on the off chance Dean didn’t hear, Sam doesn’t want him to see them.
He shoves closer to the wall in front of him, liking the false sense of protection it provides. With Dean pressing behind him and solid white plaster ahead, Sam can almost pretend his nightmares won’t be so bad.
Dean rests his head on the pillow behind Sam, takes Sam in his arms and kisses gently. Sam smiles, wonders if he can stay awake, stay right here forever. And Sam knows he won’t, but he also knows he’ll wake up in a few hours, shaking and terrified, and Dean will be pushing his hair away from his face, whispering nonsense to calm Sam down. If he has to go back to Hell, Sam thinks, this is the best way it could happen.
“Dean,” he says.
“Yeah, Sam?”
“I’m glad they only had one bed.”
Dean is quiet for a few seconds. He pulls Sam in a little tighter. “Yeah,” he finally admits. “Me, too.”
Title: Hooked on Phonics
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: R for Sexuality and Language
Word Count: 508
Author’s Note: Written for locknkey’s prompt: “Sam/Dean, body writing.”
Summary: Dean needs to memorize his exorcisms. Sam gets creative with teaching.
The first time it happens, Dean isn’t entirely sure what’s going on. He spreads Sam’s thigh, getting ready to suck at the skin until he reaches Sam’s cock and instead of tanned flesh he finds big black letters. Gibberish.
“Sam, what the--?”
“Read it,” says Sam.
Dean looks back at the words on his brothers leg and laughs. “I can’t read this.”
Sam’s legs close right in Dean’s face. “That’s too bad,” he says. “Guess we’ll both have to jerk off tonight.”
It happens again the next night. Dean’s shoving Sam’s shirt up, trying to get his brother’s pants down, and all across his back there’s more of the indecipherable writing. “What the hell?”
“It’s Latin,” Sam says. “You’re getting no where memorizing your exorcisms, Dean.”
“So?”
“So, if you wanna fuck me, you’re gonna have to ask in Latin.”
Dean glares, even though Sam can’t see him, and attempts to sound out the words on Sam’s back. After five minutes of struggling, Sam laughs at him and gets up. “You couldn’t exorcise a cat out of water with that pronunciation, Dean.”
And he actually leaves Dean hanging.
The next night, Dean is undressing for a shower when he sees the same marks on himself. Sam must have written on him while he was sleeping.
“Sam, what is this?” he asks, exiting the bathroom with his shirt bunched up in one hand.
Sam stands up and walks across the room, pushing Dean into the wall. He drops onto his knees and begins to trace over the words with his fingers, pronouncing them slowly. When he’s done, he grins up at Dean. “See?” he says. “I know my Latin.”
Then he sucks Dean off, like that’s his reward.
Dean figures it out after that. Sam turns him over, first thing in the morning, and begins to read something off Dean’s back. Then he fucks Dean lazily.
Dean starts studying. By day four, Dean’s managed enough for a fumbled handjob. By day five, Dean gets to fuck Sammy because he reads the whole ritual off Sam’s ass (and Dean doesn’t even want to know whose help Sam’s been enlisting to get this shit written out in these increasingly improbable places).
On day seven, though, there’s no writing. Not anywhere. And Dean looks--he leaves no stone, or limb, unturned.
Sam just smirks when he asks about it. “That demon you were trapped with, she wouldn’t be impressed with your ability to read the words, Dean. It’s not good if they’re not memorized.”
And that’s just playing dirty.
It takes until day nine. Dean doesn’t even try to touch Sam until then. He strips his brother down, whispering the Latin, pretending to trace the words on Sam’s chest (where they’d been written on day six, Dean can still see them in his mind) with his tongue.
Sam smiles and eats Dean out when he finishes reciting. And all Dean can think is that if this is what studying is like, Dean might have missed the train on going to college, after all.