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The mountain ridges at the end of the horizon shine golden in the setting sun. It’s a sultry evening without a cloud in sight, and a swarm of birds dances through the air to a melody only they can hear. On a large field in nowhere Nevada, a black steeled beauty cruises down the road splitting the acre apart.
The engine roars happily, and the chrome sparkles in the fainting light. Inside are two passengers. Both men. They are brothers in blood, and brothers in arms. Dean is sitting behind the wheel and barely holding onto it with one hand. The road is vacant besides them.
Moist air that smells like heated tar and mowed lawn drifts in through the open windows. Dean inhales the intoxicating aroma deeply and casts a short glance at Sam sitting to his right. He is on a video call with Eileen, a deaf huntress they met mere weeks ago.
They are currently on the way home from a successful hunt. Rugarus are nasty, but someone had to take care of them. Sam and Dean got away without more than bruises, and they saved a bunch of people. It felt great to be back on the job and to make a difference. They needed it. Saving people is what Sam and Dean thrive on. It fulfills them.
And despite all the unresolved drama awaiting them at home, Dean feels good. He wouldn’t go so far as to say that he is happy. But he is content. Dean has reached a point in his life where he is finally at ease with who he is, and who Sam is. Who they are together. He has made peace with the life they were forced to lead. Hunting has always been a sore spot for them.
It’s a difficult task that comes with a heavy, and suffocating responsibility. They have seen things that resulted in a decade of nightmares. Most people would have gone insane. They have lost family and friends because of this job. Sam and Dean died several times themselves.
Yet when they had the chance to quit and choose a path of their own, they hesitated. They tried the apple pie life. They settled down and played the part. But regardless of how hard they fought to adapt, it didn’t work out. And Dean has accepted that now. Just like Sam did. They have abandoned regret to instead embrace the choices that they have made. Both the good and the bad.
Dean takes his foot off the pedal as they drive past a herd of horses grazing on the field. Some of them look up as they hear the car approach, their tails flicking from side to side. The rest ignores them. The noise of wind rushing by is weak. The air is at standstill which worsens the oppressive heat. Sweat droplets are sliding from the nape of Dean’s neck down his back, and he squirms at the ticklish sensation.
He is already down to a short sleeved shirt that’s clinging to his body and making him feel uncomfortable. The radio is playing soft tunes, but Dean doesn’t pay attention. He is busy listening to Sam’s conservation with Eileen. At least the pieces that he can catch. Sam is signing, and only speaking occasionally when he isn’t certain if he expressed himself correctly.
More than anything, Dean is watching Sam smile and laugh with his shoulders in a relaxed slump. He rarely gets to see Sam in such a peaceful state of mind, and Dean wants to cherish it. Eileen called because she needed information about something called a Kelpie, a shape shifting water creature with ghost like traits.
Sam, who had transferred most of the bunker’s scripts into PDF data to access it from his laptop, passed the lore on to Eileen, and they figured out that a Kelpie can be killed with silver like most shapeshifters. But once that was cleared, they kept talking about everything and nothing.
Dean has stayed silent the whole time, and besides some sly smirks sent in Sam’s direction, he hasn’t drawn attention. He knows when Sam is flirting, the signs are obvious, and he doesn’t want to interrupt. He enjoys watching Sam fumble around as he tries to charm the girl. And from what Dean has seen, Eileen isn’t disinterested. Maybe Sam has a shot here.
As the end of this seemingly infinitely straight road comes into sight, Sam decides to wrap up the call. Dean listens to them say goodbye and waves into the camera as Sam turns the laptop toward him. Then the screen blackens out, and Sam closes the laptop before stowing it in his bag.
At the same time, a familiar melody begins to warble from the speakers and Dean immediately turns the volume up. His fingers drum along to the guitar intro while his head bobs in time to the beat. Dean looks at Sam to see him shaking his head with a broad smile. His dimples are on full display, the skin around his eyes is crinkled, and something inside Dean’s chest tightens.
Warmth spreads from his heart through the rest of his body. Every cell is alight with a fire of fondness. Dean’s lips curve upward without his doing, and he can’t seem to move his gaze back to the road. But as the first verse of the song resonates through the car, his brain goes into auto tune, and he sings along by habit.
“I was a little too tall, could've used a few pounds. Tight pants points, hardly renowned. She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes, and points of her own, sitting way up high.” Bob Seger’s and Dean’s voices emerge to one and carry the song twice as strong. It creates an interesting contrast. Dean speaks and sings with a smokiness typical of blues singers while Bob Seger goes about smoothly.
“Way up firm and high. Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy. Out in the back seat of my '60 Chevy. Working on mysteries without any clues.” Dean releases the wheel shortly to wave his fingers through the air as if they were drumsticks. Sam laughs out loud, the sound of it more melodic than the song playing, and Dean grins at him. Goal achieved.
“Working on our night moves, trying to make some front page drive-in news. Working our night moves, in the summertime. In the sweet summertime.” Dean finishes the verse with a low hum as if savoring the sweet taste of pie, and Sam rolls his eyes affectionately. He watches Dean as he continues chanting the lyrics that they both know by heart.
“We weren't in love, oh no, far from it. We weren't searching for some pie in the sky summit. We were just young and restless and bored. Living by the sword.” Sam’s stomach flutters excitedly as Dean loses himself in the song. He mouths along without making a show of it. Sam wouldn’t admit it out loud knowing his brother’s incapability of seeing good in himself, but Dean is talented. He knows how to use his voice, and Sam has always admired that.
“And we'd steal away every chance we could. To the backroom, to the alley or the trusty woods. I used her, she used me but neither one cared. We were getting our share.” Dean croons melodiously, and Sam’s gaze drops to his lush lips forming artfully around each word. His gut lurches, but only because he is hungry, Sam tries telling himself. Neither of them has eaten since lunch.
“Working on our night moves, trying to lose the awkward teenage blues. Working on our night moves. And it was summertime. Sweet, summertime, summertime.” Dean doesn’t notice Sam’s fixed stare as he allows his lyrical side to bloom. He trails off still humming the melody as the song reaches its peak. But his mind has latched onto something else. With a broad smirk and a mischievous glint in his emerald green eyes, Dean turns to look at his unsuspecting brother.
“You need to work on your night moves too, Sammy.” Dean extols with wiggling eyebrows, and Sam snaps back into reality. His perplexed expression is priceless. Dean has to bite his tongue to hold back from laughing as a deep furrow appears on Sam’s forehead.
“What?” Sam asks confused while Dean cackles quietly and tries to play it off as a cough. He takes a sharp left turn and steadies the car before glimpsing at Sam again. He has twisted in the seat to face Dean and makes a questioning gesture asking him to elaborate.
“You and Eileen? Come on, man. The sparks between you two are about to turn into a wildfire. Why don’t you ask her out? I bet she would like that.” Dean teases with a click of his tongue and that sly grin stuck in place. Sam groans out loud and combs a hand through his unruly hair.
“Are you serious, Dean? What’s it with you and my dating life?” Sam sighs as he drops his head onto the backrest and stares out of the windshield. The sun has disappeared entirely from the sky. Left behind is a red glow that’s slowly turning purple as night starts to fall.
“Yes, I’m serious! Sometimes you need to be reminded that hunting isn’t everything life has to provide. I can see that Eileen is crushing on you. If you play it right, you might end up lucky. I’m not saying go start a relationship. Just...have some fun, Sammy.” Dean retorts with a shrug as he stirs them onto the highway passing borders from Nevada into Utah.
“Would you stop? Eileen and I are friends. Nothing else. She only called because she needed information. There are no sparks between us. We might have some shared interests, but that’s it. And what does that mean anyway? I have to work on my night moves. What’s wrong with my night moves?” Sam inquires to move the topic into a less sensitive area as he rubs the nape of his neck.
“Alright, I’m going to be frank with you, Sam. Because you asked! You are...awkward around women. There. That’s it. You are weird when you flirt.” Dean confesses reluctantly with the left hand held up, and his shoulders framing his ears. His expression is much too serious.
“What?! What do you know about my flirting skills, Dean?! And who gave you the right to judge?” Sam sputters completely put off as heat flows into his cheeks. He is caught between feeling outraged, embarrassed, and irritated. He can’t believe they are having this conversation again. Dean always struggled to stay within the boundaries, even when it was about Sam’s love and sex life.
“I know enough! I have seen you flirt, Sam. I get that everybody has their own stunt to catch a chick. But your gig isn’t working! When was the last time you went on a date and had fun?” Dean accuses, his voice rising slightly in volume as they slip back into the well worn rhythm of brother bickering.
“Have you considered that I simply don’t want a date? It’s not a question of ability! If I wanted to, I could easily find a woman to go out with. But I don’t want to! I’m not like you, Dean. And this will come as a real shock to you, but sex isn’t the only kind of fun.” Sam counters with a petulant scoff.
“Oh really? Like what, Sam? Reading a book by the firelight? Drinking tea while solving a crossword puzzle, and sitting there in a cozy blanket?” Dean grumbles mockingly as he cuts childish grimaces, and Sam’s blood pressure reaches unhealthy levels.
“Yes, for example! What’s wrong with that?” Sam retorts offended as more blood moves from his flushed cheeks up into his ears. If they were in a cartoon, Sam’s ears would be steaming with smoke right now, and he would be huffing and puffing.
“Those are old man hobbies! You are thirty-three years old, dude!” Dean argues with an incredulous look to the side. Sam rolls his eyes skyward as if seeking help from above. This is starting to feel ridiculous. They are arguing about nothing, and the light mood is dwindling to Sam’s dismissal.
“Exactly, Dean! I’m thirty-three and not twenty. I don’t have to go on a banter every weekend to chase skirts like a horn dog. Sex isn’t everything, and there is no law saying I have to sleep around regularly.” Sam debates as he shrugs out of his flannel to wipe the sweat off his neck before throwing the soaked fabric onto the backseat. Despite the sun being gone, it’s still oppressively hot.
“Maybe you would be in a better mood if you were getting laid frequently.” Dean snorts as he squints through the windshield at the car in front of them that is driving a little recklessly. Instead of rising to the jab, Sam rests his head against the window frame and closes his eyes against the rush of wind. Dean obsoletes the meandering car before settling back in line.
“What do I have to do to make you lay off?” Sam asks from where he is trying to cool down. He feels oddly naked without his flannel. But at least he isn’t burning up anymore. Sam watches the headlights from the opposite lane flash by and frowns as Dean remains silent, lost in thought.
“Got it!” Dean crows triumphantly and snaps his fingers as a brilliant idea strikes him. “We will hold a flirt contest!” He says it with the excitement of a child during Christmas when it’s time to open the gifts. Sam raises both eyebrows skeptically. But to his own surprise, he is willing to listen to what Dean came up with.
“How is that supposed to work?” Sam questions curiously as he glances at Dean’s face illuminated by the purple glow of the sky, and the floodlights driving by. Dean shoots him a wink. His excitement is contagious. Sam is quickly infected with it as well.
“It’s quite easy. Tonight, we will go to a bar, and I will choose a random chick you have to hit on. The goal is to end up with her phone number. Afterward, you will choose a different woman for me. Same procedure.” Dean explains with short glimpses to the side to see if his brother can follow.
Sam nods slowly and thinks about it. It does sound simple. Why shouldn’t he agree? He has nothing to lose. And it could be fun, even if he won’t admit it while Dean is listening. “What’s the stake?” Sam asks with narrowed eyes, not wanting to make a hurried decision, and Dean chuckles roughly.
“The one who got a phone number to show wins the contest. If I win, which I probably will, you have to take Eileen on a date, and you will be on laundry duty for the next two weeks.” Dean announces cheerfully, and Sam scoffs with a smile that he is trying, but failing to hide.
“Alright. But if I win, and that’s possible too, you will butt out of my sex life. No more jokes. No more probing and pushing. You will leave me be.” Sam demands just as Dean was about to open his mouth. His brother blinks perplexedly and licks his bottom lip, a nervous gesture that is out of place. Dean hesitates long enough that Sam grows suspicious. But then he finally nods.
“Deal.” He agrees, and Sam smiles satisfied until a thought occurs to him. “What if both of us win?” Sam queries and Dean tilts his head as he considers the question. “Then it will be a fair draw, and nothing changes,” Dean concludes with a shrug. Sam mimics the gesture and retires his laptop to find them a place to stay.
“Let’s have some fun tonight, baby!” Dean exclaims merrily as he speeds the car up. Someone honks at them, and Dean holds his middle finger out of the window. Sam shakes his head with a quiet laugh as his fingers fly across the keyboard. Off they are to their next destination.
Sam and Dean stop at a town in Utah that consists of more than a gas station and a creepy roadside motel. On Dean’s urging, they find a hotel that is the opposite of what they are used to. The prices are unholy, and Sam argues that they don’t need such a fancy residence. But Dean is insistent.
He counters that he is becoming too old to sleep on a mattress that might slice him open with one of the creaky springs. And maybe having grown accustomed to the comfort of a permanent home with a bed of his own has spoiled Dean a little. Sam relents in the end, and they rent a room.
As noble as the hotel looked from the outside, it’s quite plain within. Not luxurious like Sam had feared. But it’s clean and the A/C is working. What a relief as they step from the stifling heat into the cool lobby. The staff is polite, the decor is chaste, and there is a mouthwatering smell coming from the dining room.
The elevator doesn’t make any strange noises as they drive up to the sixth floor. Their room is located on the east side of the hotel. As Sam and Dean enter, they are both stunned into silence. At first sight, it’s a simple room like they have seen a hundred times before.
The walls are painted sage green which has a calming effect. The lower parts are crested with white wood paneling. Opposite the two queen sized beds stands a sideboard with a flat screen television on top, plus a natty coffee machine. The ground is lined with dark wood panels. In the middle of the room lies a circular, gray carpet, and the overhead light is comfortably dim.
The bathroom is small, but it has everything they will need. Toilet, sink, and a shower that looks big enough that Sam won’t have to duck. The color theme is similar. Green walls, white tiles. Taking a peek into the cabinets, Sam is astonished to find disposable razors, shaving cream, and different miniature perfumes. They also have these small shampoo bottles Dean loves to steal.
In a different drawer, Sam finds lube, condoms of all sizes, tissues, tampons, and pads. “How considerate.” He mutters to himself. But the absolute highlight of the room is the panorama window that allows them a perfect view of the mountains in the distance. On each side of the window sits a lounge armchair, covered in dark green velvet. They look dangerously cozy.
Dean has already claimed the one standing to the left. He groans as he sinks into the plush cushion, and kicks his feet up onto the stool in front of it. “You can have the first shower, Sammy. I’m going to start the coffee machine in a second and check out the mattress. The beds must feel like a cloud if they demand that much money for one night in them." Dean retorts from his new favorite spot.
Sam chuckles as he goes to grab his hygiene bag and a set of fresh clothes. He disappears inside the bathroom without bothering to close the door entirely. Old habits. Sam swiftly sheds his clothes and steps into the shower cubicle, dragging the curtain shut.
As he turns on the faucet, the stream bursts out of the head with an astonishing force. The water pressure is perfect and it heats quickly. Soon, Sam is surrounded by a cloud of steam. He closes his eyes in pleasure as his stiff muscles relax.
He allows himself a few minutes of rest before he begins cleaning the sweat off his skin. He washes his hair last and then climbs out of the shower. The cold tiles underneath Sam’s feet have his nipples harden. He dries off and then wraps the towel around his slim hips as he moves in front of the sink.
Sam rubs a hand across the itchy stubble covering his jaw and cheeks and decides the scruff has to go. Taking out his razor, Sam barely flinches as Dean knocks on the door and it opens further. “You done, princess?” Dean asks with a teasing tone as he steps into the bathroom, and Sam nods as their eyes meet in the mirror.
“I just wanted to shave. But you can already go shower anyway.” Sam replies as he spreads shaving cream across the stubbly parts of his face. Dean doesn’t hesitate and starts undressing without an ounce of bashfulness. It’s nothing Sam hasn’t seen before, yet his gaze keeps catching on the lanes of pale skin stretched taut across Dean’s muscles.
He has gone a little soft around the middle, but that only adds to his beauty. Dean’s strength, usually hidden behind endless layers of clothes, becomes visible and Sam finds himself unable to look away. Again, his gut lurches as Dean bends down to pull his socks off, and the firm globes of his butt attract Sam’s attention.
He frowns at the surge of heat that hits his body and colors his cheeks a soft pink. Sam is finally released from the spell as Dean climbs into the shower. He shakes his head to get rid of the weird feeling that has taken hold of him as Dean turns on the faucet. Sam’s blush turns scarlet as a deep groan that can only be described as sexual echoes through the bathroom.
“Jesus, the water pressure is divine! Almost as good as in the bunker.” Dean preaches, and the obscene noises continue as if they were in a bad porno. Sam hurries through the shaving and almost nicks himself twice. He finishes while Dean is still showering and singing Night Moves once again.
Sam chose a comfortable, yet stylish outfit. He slips into a pair of bright denim jeans and a black dress shirt that’s practically weightless. He rolls up the sleeves, brushes his slowly drying hair, puts on a splash of cologne, and deems himself done. Sam pours himself a cup of coffee while Dean is getting ready, and counts how much cash they have left.
He is relieved to see Dean come out of the bathroom partly dressed. But Sam is still drawn in by the play of Dean’s broad back as he pulls on a black shirt and tugs a green plaid above it. Sam wonders what’s wrong with him today. He has always looked up to Dean and watched his every step. It was the only constant part of his life that kept him grounded. It’s a comfort.
And Sam is man enough to admit that Dean is handsome. Everybody can see that, and denying the obvious is senseless. Yet Sam has only looked at Dean the way someone would enjoy the sight of the raging ocean. It’s the beauty of nature that awakens emotions and Sam has realized that early. But sexual attraction wasn’t one of them. Not until now.
“You ready to go?” Dean asks as he checks his gun before pushing it into the waist holster at his back. Sam snorts and holds his arms out to show he is merely waiting on him. “Been ready for a while. You are the one who needs ages in the bathroom.” Sam tattles with both eyebrows raised and Dean flips him off.
“Come on.” Dean takes the lead and walks out of the room with Sam following suit. They leave the hotel to scoop out the area. The sky is colored a deep navy blue by now, but the scent of summer is still present and the temperature is bearable.
Two blocks down they find a pub that looks good enough. It’s Friday night, and the joint is filled with a calm crowd, women and men alike. From the back of the room sounds Jazz music, loud enough to be heard despite the multiple conversations taking place. Not Dean’s preferred kind of music, but he will live. The air smells like alcohol and fried food.
Their mouths water. Dean finds them a free booth close to the bar and they settle down opposite each other. “Not bad,” Sam says, the corners of his mouth pursed as his gaze roams across the place. He searches for the nearest escape and looks for people who may cause trouble. Another old habit.
“Yeah. Seems cozy. Hopefully, they got some good beer and food here. I’m starving!” Dean states as he rubs his belly dramatically, and Sam laughs quietly. The atmosphere is bright. They are both in a good mood. The waitress finds them as they are going through the menu card.
“Good evening! What can I get for you, gentleman?” She asks with a smile and her pen held at the ready. She is pretty, Sam notes. Her long, dark hair is pulled taut in a complicated looking braid that rests on her slim shoulders. She is quite tall and has blue eyes that flash in the warm lighting.
Sam returns the smile with his usual kindness and closes the menu. “I will have a beer, and a chicken sandwich with a side of hash browns, please.” Sam retorts as he hands the card back. The waitress quickly writes his order down and then looks at Dean with the same welcoming expression.
“And what will it be for you?” She inquires kindly while Dean is still trying to decide as he nibbles on his bottom lip. What a distracting sight. “I will have the steak burger with a side of fries. Extra marinade, please. Oh, and a beer!” Dean announces with a smirk and a wink as he slaps the card shut.
“Coming right up!” The waitress concurs before turning on her heel. Sam watches Dean look after her swinging hips as she walks toward the bar and passes their order on. Something bitter rises in his throat, flooding his mouth with a sour taste. But Sam swallows it back down and acts as if nothing had happened.
It doesn’t take long until their drinks arrive. They thank the waitress as she places the cold bottles in front of them, and Dean immediately takes a sip, nodding satisfied with the taste. Sam meanwhile is once again checking the crowd. Looking for possible targets. The supply is sufficient. But first, they should lay down some rules. Sam is still surprised that he agreed to the deal.
What was he thinking? Maybe he just had enough of Dean’s constant teasing, and his snooping around in Sam’s private business. Taking a sip of the herb brew, Sam leans into the leather bound cushion at his back and glances at Dean from beneath his lashes.
“So, what are the rules?” Sam begins and Dean startles out of his thoughts. He copies Sam’s posture and leans back into the booth, his legs stretched out beneath the table. Their calves touch and Sam’s toes twitch inside the confines of his boots as a tingle flashes through his entire body.
“Neither of us is allowed to tell our counterpart about the contest. That would only end in drama. Playing on pity won’t work. Cheating is out of the question too. You can’t just write a random number down while I ain’t looking and say that’s from the chick.” Dean explains with his head tilted and his expression grabbed by excitement once more.
Sam nods in agreement and then waves a reproving finger in front of Dean’s face. “No interference either! While we are busy chatting up our counterpart, the other has to stay out of line. You can watch and listen if you sit close enough. But interruption isn’t allowed.” Sam avows adamantly. Dean approves with a grin as he crosses his heart.
“You will go first! Let’s see what this dandruff has to offer.” Dean extols excitedly. He doesn’t see Sam’s indignant expression because he is already scanning the female troop in search of a fitting participant. He knows what type Sam likes, and he wants to make this a fair challenge.
“Why do I have to go first? It was your idea, hence you start.” Sam scoffs begrudgingly to hide the surge of insecurity raging in his gut that is making him feel sick. Dean looks back at Sam with a shake of his head and nudges his foot playfully. “Older brother rights, Sammy. I decide who goes first. And I choose you!” His tone is cunning, and Sam yields without putting up a fuss.
Dean, glowing with triumph, returns to his search. He quickly finds the perfect woman. She is sitting by the bar, and drinking what looks like a gin tonic. She is alone. Her caramel colored hair is falling untamed down her back. From what Dean can see of her side profile, she is beautiful. Her face has delicate features, and her body is curvy in all the right places.
She is wearing a black pencil skirt, and a white, tight fitting top decorated with lace. She is confident enough to go to a pub alone to drink by herself. That’s a good sign. Sam likes confident women who can take care of themselves. Her body language reads that she is open for company. Dean turns back to Sam and jerks his head in the woman’s direction.
“There you go. She is your target for tonight.” Dean mutters discreetly while Sam’s gaze roams across the woman. He knows he made a good choice when Sam’s eyebrows rise lightly, and he sits up an inch. That right there is obvious interest. Dean mentally claps himself on the shoulder.
“Off you go, Sammy. Give it your best shot.” Dean makes a shooing gesture and Sam’s attention snaps back to him instantly. Dean raises a questioning brow at Sam’s confused expression. “Come on. You should go before someone beats you to it. The lady is a ten out of ten.”
“Right now? What about the food? We just ordered.” Sam argues without a lot of heat behind it. Dean rolls his eyes and motions at the whole room. “It’s packed, Sam. We surely aren’t the only ones who ordered food. It will take a while. Don’t chicken out on me now.” He counters and then curses in pain as Sam kicks his shin with bruising force.
Before Dean can repay him, Sam has already stood up and crossed the short distance to the bar. Rubbing the aching spot on his shin, Dean watches as Sam lingers beside the pretty woman. He points at the empty stool next to her, probably asking if it is free. She smiles at Sam and shakes her head. Thereupon he sits down.
Dean scoots closer to the edge of the booth and strains his ears as his brother and the stranger shake hands. He hears Sam introduce himself with a fake surname. The woman turns slightly on the stool as she grasps Sam’s much bigger hand with her own. “I’m Aubrey. Nice to meet you, Sam.” She replies and looks at him with a sparkle in her eyes that both brothers recognize.
She is undoubtedly interested. Dean tries not to grimace as Aubrey orders a gin tonic for Sam too and slides close enough that their knees touch. He doesn’t catch what Sam says next because he is distracted by an onslaught of mixed emotions that ambush him. Dean frowns and involuntarily rubs his aching chest. The emotions are familiar.
Possessiveness. Jealousy. Something that tastes like contempt directed at the woman currently flirting with his brother. What Dean doesn’t understand is what caused them. Why are they turning up now? Shaking his head, he takes a deep gulp from his beer, the bottle wet with condensation.
As he looks back to the bar, he is startled to find Aubrey watching him. Dean hastily averts his gaze and stares wide eyed down at his fidgeting hands. He feels like he was caught with his pants down. Did Sam tell Aubrey that they are here together? Is that why she looked at him?
Dean waits a few good minutes and tries to get rid of the panicked feeling before he dares cast a glance at them again. Thankfully, Aubrey isn’t looking at him anymore, and Dean sighs in relief. At least Sam is having fun. He smiles broadly as he talks with Aubrey and leans into the hand she has placed on his arm. Dean can’t believe how well this woman is reacting to Sam’s flirting.
Perhaps Dean underestimated his brother. Winning the contest won’t be as easy as he thought. But nothing is lost yet, and he can’t be sure of anything until Sam is back. He tries catching more of the conversation, his brows furrowed in concentration. Someone turned the music up, and Dean is struggling to understand what they are saying. It bugs him.
He slides even closer to the edge of the booth and really tries to blend out all the noises around him. The clattering from the kitchen. People talking from every side. The annoying music. Dean pushes it away and finds Sam’s voice in the chaos. He has always been good at discerning Sam from the mass.
“Really? I couldn’t have guessed that! I mean, don’t take me wrong, but you look more like a businesswoman to me. You have this confident aura. I think you would do well as the CEO of some big industry. Laboratory assistant sounds so calm in comparison. I bet it can get lonely.” Sam says with his most attentive expression, and Dean melts a little on the inside with fondness.
Aubrey tilts her head from side to side before shrugging with a small smile. “Yes, sometimes it’s lonely. Everyone in the labor has their own project. There isn’t a lot of teamwork. But it honestly doesn’t bother me much. I need the silence to work with focus. And I like my job the way it is.” Sam nods understandingly while Dean barely keeps himself from snorting out loud.
“Besides, once in a while, you meet a kind and beautiful stranger who can help with the loneliness,” Aubrey adds as an afterthought. Sam chuckles coyly as he swirls the gin around his glass. Dean purses his lips and crosses his arms. Aubrey is coming on pretty strong, in his opinion. It’s a little pathetic. But to his disappointment, Sam doesn’t seem turned off by it.
“Shouldn’t I be the one making you compliments?” Sam teases with sparkling eyes and Aubrey laughs as she pushes a lock of hair out of her face. Dean clenches his jaw and his head begins to ache as he watches them continue their charade. Now he regrets having come up with this dumb contest.
Why did he think it was a good idea? As if he isn’t aware of the emotions that would arise as soon as Sam’s attention is on someone else. Dean hates to admit it, but he is jealous. Of anyone and anything. Not only romantic encounters on Sam’s behalf trouble him. He simply doesn’t like not having Sam’s constant attention. It has been like that since they were children.
Sam is the axis Dean’s world spins on. Everything revolves around him. Dean has dedicated his entire life to Sam, and even if he had the chance, he wouldn’t change his decision. Not having that devotion reincorporated is a hard pill to swallow. Of course, somewhere deep down, Dean knows Sam would do everything for him. He has seen it. He has felt it. Maybe he is being dramatic.
But who can blame him? That’s simply how Dean functions. Underneath the glamor, the hard facade, and the carefully arranged armor, he is just human too. He has insecurities, fears, and doubts like everybody else. And his biggest worry has always been that Sam will leave him one day.
Dean openly stares as Sam and Aubrey talk. He doesn’t even pretend to be doing something else. The knot in his belly tightens, and his expression turns dark as Aubrey lays a hand on Sam’s thigh way up high. Dean downs the rest of his drink in one go to cool down. He hardly acknowledges the waitress as she places their ordered food on the table.
He straightens some as Sam abruptly stands up. He says something to Aubrey before heading toward the restroom. Both Dean and Aubrey watch him go. He resists the desire to follow Sam and returns to glaring at the side of Aubrey’s head. Just at that moment, she chooses to look at him as well. The jolly smile drops from her lips in a heartbeat.
Something about Dean’s expression must have scared her because she tenses visibly and lowers her gaze. Triumph burns warmly inside his chest. Dean focuses on his food as Sam reemerges from the restroom. He nibbles on a fry and watches from the corner of his eye as Aubrey hurriedly apologizes to Sam while waving at the barkeeper to pay.
His brother is confused if not a tad hurt, and Dean is hit by a lethal wave of guilt. He drops the fry onto the plate, his appetite gone. Aubrey looks truly sorry as she shortly squeezes Sam’s hand before launching to the exit. Sam lingers by the bar as the rejection settles in, and then he strides back to their table with a seriously pissed aura.
“What did you do, Dean?” Sam asks reproachfully as he drops into the booth. Dean raises his eyebrows as if he didn’t know what he was talking about. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything! I sat here the entire time while you were chatting up the pretty girl. What happened?”
“Don’t bullshit me! Everything was going well. But after I went to the bathroom, she told me something urgent had come up and that she needed to go. It was a lie. I will ask one last time. What did you do?” Sam challenges with narrowed eyes to which Dean lifts his hands placatingly.
“I don’t know! Maybe she didn’t lie. Something could have come up. Perhaps she just didn’t feel well. I’m sorry it didn’t work out, but it wasn’t my fault.” Dean replies with a shrug, and at least his apology is sincere. He feels bad about chasing Aubrey off even though he didn’t do and say anything.
Sam is still suspicious, but decides to let it slide because he can see that Dean meant it. He mimics the shrug and picks up his beer to swallow his wounded pride down. Sam won’t allow the pass to ruin his night. He has been through worse than a rejection. Thinking about it now, it’s only fair. After all, he kind of used Aubrey even if he truly liked and enjoyed her company.
“Whatever, man. It’s your turn!” Sam says as he grabs a fork and snatches a piece of hash browns from his plate. The alcohol has somehow made him even more hungry. He chews the fried goods while scanning the crowd when suddenly a thought strikes him.
Maybe a little prank would help lighten the mood. And perhaps he also wants to get back at Dean because Aubrey’s hurried escape was more than dubious. He wouldn’t put it past Dean that he might have played into it. Grinning, Sam glances at his brother and nods toward a corner booth where a young man is sitting.
He is looking at the pool tables where a group of guys his age are playing. Probably his friends. The man is attractive. Even Sam can see that. His hair is black and shiny. Long at the top, short in the back and the sides. His eyes might be blue. It’s hard to say from the distance.
He has gentle, almost feminine features. But the harsh cut of his jaw and the prominent cheekbones give him a masculine flare. The stubble shadowing part of his face makes him seem mature. From what Sam can see of his body, he is well shaped. Lean muscled and tall.
Someone by the pool tables shouts indecipherable nonsense the stranger's way and he laughs, which Sam has to confess is a charming sight. The man could be a model. Dean is confused as he glances in the indicated direction and doesn’t find the woman Sam pointed out.
He only sees a young man sitting by himself, and the second waitress of the pub cleaning a table. With a frown, he moves his gaze back to Sam and is met with a playful smirk that doesn’t sit well with him. Now Dean is the suspicious one.
“Do you need glasses? Something must be off with your eyesight 'cause there is no chick there, Sam.” Dean says with his head tilted sideways. As the waitress brushes past them, he swiftly asks for a whiskey before returning his attention to the conversation. Sam merely nods and his grin broadens. His dimples pop and the skin around his hazel colored eyes crinkles.
“I know. The man sitting in the corner booth is your target. Go get him, tiger!” Sam retorts smugly, and he starts to cackle at Dean’s scandalized expression when it dawns on him. With a gaping mouth and frozen in place, Dean watches Sam try to catch a breath. Heat flows into his cheeks and ears.
“You can’t be serious! That’s not…that’s not fair! We are talking about totally different leagues here, man!” Dean stammers with a high-pitched voice, and Sam slaps his thigh as tears shoot into his eyes. He is turning red from the lack of oxygen because he can’t stop laughing. Both of them are flushed. Some of the patrons glance curiously at them.
Dean grits his teeth as he realizes that Sam fooled him. He sits back with crossed arms and waits impatiently for Sam to calm down. His knee begins to bounce up and down. The embarrassment descends as Sam’s laughter fades. But Dean is still mildly offended. Everything in him screams to turn the tables and make Sam feel like the fool here.
“Relax, Dean. I was kidding. I know you would never hit on a man. I just wanted to rile you up.” Sam chuckles as he wipes the tears away and grins at his brother. Dean returns the smile with a spiteful edge that Sam didn’t expect, and rises from his seat. Sam is left puzzled.
“Oh yeah? Watch me then.” Dean hisses, and Sam’s eyebrows fly up as his brother turns around to stride toward the man he jokingly pointed out. “Dean, wait!” Sam calls startled in an attempt to stop him because the prank is spinning out of control. But Dean outright ignores him.
Stunned, Sam watches wide eyed as Dean halts in front of the handsome man and smiles down at him. He says something Sam can’t catch and offers his hand. The stranger shakes it with a coy grin before pointing at the vacant seat opposite him. Dean sits down with a nod, and Sam’s jaw drops. He can’t believe what he is seeing.
The two men start talking while Sam is trying to process what’s happening. Is this just a joke? It must be. Else wise Dean wouldn’t have agreed to flirt with a man. Sam knows how awkward he becomes at even the thought of something homosexual. Sam has seen Dean react to being flirted at by men, and his reaction was always more embarrassed than interested.
That’s not to say that Dean is homophobic. Far from it. He wouldn’t judge someone because of something mundane like their sexuality. He stays out of business that doesn’t involve him and leaves everybody to enjoy their cup of tea. As long as it is consensual, Dean couldn’t care less about what people do in bed, and with whom they do it.
But Sam has never noticed Dean showing a grain of interest toward the same sex. Was he blind? How could he have missed it if Dean was playing on both teams? Why didn’t he say something? Does Dean feel ashamed about it? That would be ridiculous. In his whole time, Dean hasn’t once felt abashed about anything regarding his sex life.
He has shared more of it with Sam than he liked. Why would this be different? It doesn’t make sense. Sam’s thoughts are racing as he continues to watch Dean and the man. They seem to be getting along well. Sam can only see Dean’s back, but going by the stranger's expression, he is intrigued.
They are definitely flirting, and that not too shyly either going by the lascivious grin the man is wearing. Sam’s hand holding the fork tightens and cuts off the blood flow in his palm. His jaw is clenched shut. His teeth crunch and heat burns low in his gut. The bad kind.
Sam tries to suppress the ache rising from his stomach into his chest. He blinks rapidly against the surge of water in his eyes as he has been staring for too long. The waitress Dean ordered a whiskey from appears beside the two men and places the glass on the table. On the way back, she walks past Sam and gives him a sympathetic look as if he had been dumped.
It makes him feel even worse. Fuming on the inside, he stabs the fork roughly into a hash brown and tells himself to calm down. Sam doesn’t know why he is reacting so badly to seeing Dean flirt with a young, pretty man. It doesn’t mean anything. Yet it still rubs him the wrong way. Sam’s free fingers are drumming on the flat surface of the table as he eats without real gusto.
He hears Dean laugh, a melodic and serene sound. The low thrum of it easily drowns out the music and the additional noises in the pub. But maybe Sam is just well attuned to Dean’s voice. It is quite special. He could listen to it forever. Unfortunately, they are sitting too far apart that Sam could eavesdrop on the conversation.
Maybe that’s the best considering that he is already boiling with rage just from watching them flirt. It seems Dean will win the contest. Sam should probably be upset about that. If he loses, he will have to go on a date with Eileen and wash laundry for two weeks long. The second he isn’t worried about.
Sam simply doesn’t want to ruin his friendship with Eileen by making her falsely believe that there could be more between them. He likes her a lot and is happy to call her a friend. She is an admirable woman. But Sam didn’t lie when he told Dean that he isn’t romantically interested in her.
His thoughts are interrupted as the man Dean is trying to chat up suddenly leans half across the table. Sam goes rigid, and his breath stocks. He wonders if he will have to intervene. The man doesn’t seem like a threat, but he can’t be sure. The stranger scans the area and tilts his head down as he lowers his voice.
He is looking at Dean through his long lashes and says something before biting on his bottom lip. Sam frowns skeptically and tries to figure out what the man said by watching Dean’s reaction. But it’s impossible to fathom up, as he can solely see the back of Dean’s head and part of his shoulders. His stomach turns and Sam huffs frustrated.
Whatever Dean replies doesn’t land well by the man. He shakes his head while seeking distance. Sam’s eyebrows raise to his hairline, and he is certain that Dean is just as baffled. The guy’s attitude changes from one second to the next. Now Sam is genuinely curious to know what was talked about.
Dean nods and grabs his glass as he stands up. The man turns away to keep watching his friends as Dean walks back toward Sam with an irritated expression. He flops down in the opposite booth and swallows the content of his glass silently. Sam throws his arms up and spreads them exceptionally.
“What happened?” Sam asks as he squints in the direction of the pretty patron who doesn’t lend them a drop of attention. He purses his lips and looks at Dean who is watching the man with the same expression. At least he doesn’t seem offended.
“You won’t believe it. The guy offered me a fucking blowjob behind the pub, but when I asked for his number, he shut me down.” Dean snorts as he picks up the burger, and Sam chokes on his spit. He coughs in shock while Dean calmly begins to eat. The food has turned cold, but it still tastes good.
“What?” Sam croaks once he can breathe again. One hand lies sprawled out on his aching chest as his heartbeat returns to a healthy rate. His cheeks are pink. Dean merely shrugs as if it was an everyday occurrence, and takes a hefty bite from his burger.
“Yeah, man. That’s the youth of today.” Dean says around his full mouth and then at the barkeeper. He makes a motion asking for more drinks and gets a thumbs up in response. Sam meanwhile is still trying to make sense of Dean’s calmness. But he follows his brother’s example and starts eating his sandwich.
“Sorry that it didn’t work out. Though you don’t seem too sad about it.” Sam mumbles with a long side glance. Dean chuckles hoarsely as he shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. The kid was a brat. Spoiled to hell and back. He kept bragging about his daddy’s money, all the lame cars in his garage that he didn’t buy himself, and the expensive college he just graduated from.”
Sam laughs at the overly dramatic eye roll accompanying Dean’s short speech, and a wave of relief washes through him. The heat in his chest and gut is extinguished. He relaxes noticeably. The barkeeper brings them another round of beer and a shot for each. Dean lifts the small vial toward Sam and they clink glasses before tipping the alcohol back. It burns as it flows down their throats.
“Anyway, that makes me the winner of the contest!” Dean declares as he puts the glass upside down on the table, and Sam crinkles his nose. He shakes his head vehemently and holds up a finger. “That’s not true! You didn’t show up here with a phone number either. We both lost.” He argues indignantly.
“Maybe. But I came the closest to getting laid tonight! That makes me the winner. There is no sense in arguing, Sammy. Just admit that I’m the better flirt.” Dean extols cheerfully as he half bows to a fake audience. Sam scoffs as he crosses his arms. “Never!” He avows with a pout, and they both burst out laughing. They resume eating their late dinner while talking about easy matters.
Sam and Dean rarely get to have fun without a worry on their mind. That makes it all the more special. Tonight they are free of any concern. They relish the sparse moment of joy as they drink, eat, and talk. The alcohol loosens their tongues. They share stories of the past, mainly of previous affairs.
Sam and Dean don’t mention the ones that have left sore spots on their hearts. They skip ahead and only tell the tales that will result in chuckles. Their greatest hits are shortly subjected as well. And while Dean isn’t shy to talk about his sex life, there are certain details he doesn’t share to keep his own, and his partner's privacy intact. But tonight is different.
The light atmosphere allows them to be completely open. They voice every thought that comes to mind without an ounce of shame. They are careful to avoid touchy topics and still have enough left to tell. Sam recalls his first time which encourages Dean to share the story of his defloration as well. Soon, their plates are empty. Yet the drinks keep coming, and time flies by.
At some point, Sam can’t keep his curiosity in check anymore. He tosses his arm onto the backrest of the booth and drags his knuckles across the table surface to gain Dean’s attention. “Tell me one thing. Why were you so ready to approach the guy when I pointed him out? Were you trying to prank me?” Sam asks with a tone of wonder, and the urgent need to know burning in him.
Dean’s chaste smile quickly forges into a foxy grin. He doesn’t seem nervous which deems the topic safe. Dean empties his glass before he sits up and leans forward. He clears his throat and shrugs as his gaze roves through the slowly emptying pub until it settles on Sam again.
“Perhaps it wasn’t the first time that I flirted with a man. I might have done something like that before. And more.” Dean admits sheepishly. His smirk broadens upon Sam’s shocked expression. “What? Really?” Sam sputters baffled, and Dean dips his head in coy acknowledgement.
“But since when? How? Why didn’t I know?” Sam continues to prob. Underneath the surprise, there is a flare of jealousy, but he suppresses it. He watches as Dean runs a hand through his hair. The heat has erased the gel Dean usually applies, and left behind is a mop of fluffy hair. Sam wants to know if it feels as soft as it looks.
“What can I say, Sammy? I’m irresistible! Besides, why choose only one meal if you have access to the whole buffet?” Dean retorts with his chest puffed out and his chin held high. Sam laughs with a shake of his head and takes a sip from his drink. His taste buds are numb by now.
“First time I tried something with a guy, I was seventeen. He was around my age. It didn’t go past kissing and some groping. During the years, I had a few stunts here and there. Nothing long lasting, of course. It was always just about sex.” Dean says with a dismissive gesture. But Sam’s curiosity is merely growing.
“Is it different? I mean, the…tools and the…mechanics are different. Let me rephrase that question. What do you like most about sex with men that’s different from sex with women?” Sam inquires, and Dean hums thoughtfully as he stares up at the ceiling.
“Men are less complicated. I love women, but they are very cautious when they meet someone new. You have to work hard to be led to their bed. Most men are easy. They don’t care who you are. As long as you are attractive, they will get right down to it. No beating around the bush. Just a quick, good fuck.” Dean explains with their gazes interlocked. Sam is hit with an onslaught of images his brother’s speech summoned.
He swallows thickly as a throb tugs on his loins. Sam tries pushing the provocative pictures away and clears his throat. “And how...how far did you...you know...how far did you go?” He stammers flustered with pink cheeks. Dean clicks his tongue and nudges Sam’s foot with his own.
“Are you asking for the dirty details, Sammy?” He teases with a wide grin, and Sam rolls his eyes, but doesn’t back down. If they are already at it. “Well?” Sam urges impatiently with a slight pitch in his voice. Dean licks his lips and tilts his head down as if to tell a secret. His mesmerizing eyes glimmer.
“All the way. I’ve gone all the way. Been on the giving and receiving end. But I haven’t slept with a man in a while. I think the last time was when I was a demon.” Dean replies and the mention triggers bad memories in both their minds. Yet they are quick to pass them on. It’s in the past. “Anyway. What about you, Sammy? Have you tried it? College is the time of exploration.”
Sam is still caught up imagining Dean underneath, and on top of a man when the question comes. He snaps back into reality and squirms as he feels blood flowing south. Must be the alcohol, he argues with himself. “I mean, I’ve thought about it. One time I even kissed a guy. If there had been a chance of more, I would have tried it. But the opening didn’t present itself, and I also didn’t actively seek it.”
Dean nods understandingly, and with that, they move on. They continue to talk until they are kicked out at closing time. They walk the few blocks back to the hotel, and the sultry air worsens the effect of the alcohol. They are far from drunk. Just that side of comfortably tipsy. It’s shortly after two at night when Sam and Dean arrive at their room.
They collapse on each of their beds in sync. The sudden silence is startling. Neither of them bothered to turn on the light when they entered. But Dean fetched the remote from the television. He clicks it on, flooding the room with a white light that burns in their eyes. Dean lowers the volume and they indifferently watch the infomercial about kitchen appliances.
Sam was tired in the pub, but now as he is lying here, the fatigue is gone. Dean seems to be having the same problem. The alcohol influence and the late hour have turned them loose. They are calm, not to say lazy. Maybe the multiple whiskey shots have also made them a little bold and reckless.
“I wish I would have taken that guy up on his offer.” Dean’s voice sounds out of nowhere and startles Sam who was lost in thought. He glimpses at Dean from the corner of his eye, unwilling to move more, and chuckles leisurely. “Why? Did talking about past affairs turn you horny?” Sam asks amused as he looks back at the screen where a woman is using a high tech designed knife.
Dean grumbles affirmatively and the silence returns because how should Sam reply to that? Provide his help? The thought has him tremble. Heat rushes into his face. When Sam dares cast a second glance at Dean, he is shocked to find him idly palming his crotch while his free arm is holding his head up.
Sam's breath stops and his eyes widen. His mouth is suddenly dry like a desert. He has trouble swallowing. The unexpected sight is making his heart race. Blood rushing south, Sam spreads his thighs to allow his cock to swell. His pants quickly become tight.
“Hey, Sammy? Would you be bothered if I take care of business here? I don’t want to go into the bathroom. This bed does feel like a cloud.” Dean retorts with his hooded eyes still aimed at the screen. Yet he is well aware of Sam’s unwavering stare, and it sends a tingle of excitement through his very core.
Dean asks as if it was the most normal thing, and Sam doesn’t know what demon possesses him when he agrees. “No, you can go ahead.” He answers causally even as everything inside him screams that this is a bad idea. But Sam doesn’t listen because he is too busy watching Dean’s fingers as he pops the button of his jeans and drags the zipper down.
Dean pushes his hand into the pants and groans relieved as he curls his palm around his half hard cock. The sound has Sam’s loins ache as more blood streams toward his groin. His gaze is fixed on where he can see Dean’s hand moving up and down his shaft underneath the fabric. He is so transfixed he forgets to blink.
Dean moans and pants softly as he alternates between moving his hand quickly and then slowly. Sam wishes he could see beyond the fabric, see everything, and as if Dean had heard the thought, he lifts his hips to push the jeans down his thighs where he leaves them to pool.
Sam almost swallows his tongue as Dean’s hard shaft jumps free. His own cock is straining against his pants, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. Dean falls back onto the bed, and drags his shirt up until most of his belly is revealed before grabbing his erection again.
He sighs in pleasure and Sam echoes the noise without thought. His brain has been silenced by a wave of hormones that have him sweating and leaking pre-cum into his briefs. Soon, Dean’s low groans are accompanied by the slick sound of skin gliding across skin while Sam vibrates on the spot.
He is laser focused on Dean masturbating beside him, trying to ignore his own urge to release the pressure. Sam doesn't want to break the spell that has laid itself on them. But it's close to impossible to remain still. Dean’s eyes are closed as he twists his wrist at every upstroke to tease the delicate glands at the head of his cock. He looks mesmerizing.
Dean is well proportional and despite the low light, Sam can make out the dusky color of his member. The veins littering his shaft are straining beneath the skin. Even from the distance, Sam can see that Dean is leaking a lot of pre-cum that functions as lube. They have that in common.
“Not going to join me, Sammy?” Dean speaks up, his voice tense with lust. Goosebumps erupt on Sam’s skin, and his nipples harden hearing the heat in Dean’s ask. He hesitates for a millisecond before ripping his pants down. His hard cock stands up straight, red at the tip from neglect. Sam wraps his hand around the root and pulls upward.
His lips part, and he tilts his head back as a moan escapes him. Sam and Dean quickly fall into a rhythm. Their delighted noises echo through the room. Sam is still watching Dean’s hand move on his cock. Dean is doing the same by him. He doesn’t know how they ended up in this situation, but he won’t complain. Sam has never been so aroused in his entire life.
He can’t pinpoint how and when it happens. From one second to the next, Sam and Dean’s gazes are locked. They are both panting, and Sam's heart jumps as Dean licks his lip. Neither of them looks away. The tension rises. Dean’s beautiful eyes shine blue in the light of the screen. His lashes throw long shadows on his cheeks. Sam’s cock twitches in his hand.
He is flushed from the face down to his collarbones, and the pleasure increases each time his hand passes the head of his length. Sam is already close, and his brother doesn’t seem like he will be lasting long either. Brother. The word echoes through Sam‘s head, causing a breathless moan to spill from his throat as a spark of fire ignites his every nerve.
“Goddammit!” Dean curses and abruptly sits up. Sam is afraid that he broke the spell as Dean climbs out of bed. He straightens upward as well and opens his mouth to apologize, but he doesn’t get there. Dean drops down beside him and Sam is utterly baffled as his hand is slapped away.
Dean grasps Sam’s throbbing cock and they both groan in response. Sam’s eyes fall closed as Dean begins jerking him. He learned how to do it right by watching. Sam eagerly thrusts up into the tight passage of Dean’s fist, and his balls ache. He forces his eyes open to look at Dean and finds him watching his doing with awe written across his face.
Something Sam knows, but is reluctant to name yet, blossoms in his chest. He lifts his hand to caress Dean’s jaw and grasps his chin to turn his head. Their eyes meet. Without having to say anything, Dean knows what he wants. He is happy to comply. Dean leans down and Sam moves up to speed things along. Their lips touch almost chastely, and they both utter a content noise.
The pressure increases swiftly. Sam allows Dean’s searching tongue entrance. The kiss is passionate and deeply affectionate. It’s good. Better than with anyone Sam can remember. Going by the noises Dean is making, he would agree. They break apart when they run out of oxygen. Taking a few breaths, they share a grin before going right back to it.
While their tongues dance, Sam and Dean begin to undress. Their clothes are thrown away to land in random corners of the room. Sam struggles to get rid of his pants as Dean sucks a mark on his neck. He found Sam’s sensitive spot and is outright abusing it. Soon, they are naked. Sam scoots into the middle of the bed, and Dean follows suit.
Sam spreads his thighs to accommodate Dean between them as their lips collide. Their crotches are perfectly aligned, and Sam moans huskily as their cocks meet. His hips jolt up at the odd, yet pleasant sensation. Dean echoes the groan as he grinds his hips down. Sam latches his mouth onto Dean’s shoulder and suckles lightly as their pelvises move in tandem.
“Fuck, baby. Why haven’t we done this before?” Dean inquires strained as his eyes roll behind closed lids. Sam laughs breathlessly before hissing through clenched teeth at a practically good thrust. “I don’t know. But I regret it.” He replies softly and grips the round globes of Dean’s buttocks to stir him on. Dean merely nods as he gazes down to where their cocks are pressed close.
Seeing Sam’s hard shaft, the pre-cum glistening at the tip has Dean’s mouth watering. He presses a last kiss to Sam’s swollen lips before freeing himself from the tight embrace. Dean crawls between his brother’s legs and lays down on his belly. Sam furrows his brows, his mind slow from desire and the stampede of endorphins.
“Dean, what are you doing? Come back.” Sam mutters as he pushes up onto his elbows. But Dean only shakes his head with a wanton grin. He grabs the base of Sam’s cock and strokes his shaft a few times, making it throb in his hand. Sam finally catches on to his intention as Dean blows a rush of air across the sticky head of his length before brushing a kiss to it.
He gasps as his cock twitches eagerly, electing a chuckle from Dean that has Sam blushing. His last working brain cell flies out of the window as Dean wraps his lush, pink lips around the head of his cock. He sucks lightly, trailing his tongue around the spongy flesh. Sam drops back onto the mattress with a shocked moan and throws an arm across his closed eyes.
Dean doesn’t tease and goes straight to work. He bobs his head up and down, first slowly to adjust to the sensation. He heightens the pace as his confidence grows. Dean moans as the salty aroma of Sam’s pre-cum explodes on his tongue. His hand is still working the part of Sam’s shaft that he couldn’t fit in his mouth. Dean relishes the happy noises Sam rewards him with.
It has his own cock aching. Sam is unconsciously thrusting up into the wet heat of Dean’s mouth. But even as the head of Sam’s member keeps jabbing against the back of his throat, he doesn’t pull away. He allows Sam the slight room of movement and begins fondling his balls.
The pleasure has overwhelmed Sam. He wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence if he tried. He just lies there while Dean pushes him toward oblivion, and tries not to choke his brother as his hips keep pumping up against his will. Sam’s balls are beginning to pull taut in Dean’s hand, but then he pulls away. Sam can’t stop the embarrassing whine from breaking free.
“Dean, please!” Sam begs as he blinks dazed down at his brother. The sight of Dean’s wet lips still brushing the head of his cock has Sam sucking in hectic breaths. His loins constrict. He means to ask why he stopped when Dean’s finger suddenly slides from his perineum down to his hole.
Sam’s mouth parts as Dean begins applying slight pressure. He is merely rubbing, almost caressing the furled entrance as their eyes meet in the dark. Pulses of electricity starting from their souls make them tremble as the bond that they share lights both of them up to the depth of their cores.
“Is this alright?” Dean slurs lust hazed and still a bit tipsy. Sam licks his lips, and it takes him a minute to find back to his senses. He nods slowly and Dean gives him a heartwarming smile before continuing to lick, and suck on his cock. Sam moans as Dean applies more pressure to his hole.
There is enough spit and pre-cum to ease the glide as Dean slips a digit into Sam’s tight channels. This isn’t a new sensation. Sam has fingered himself before and found it enjoyable. But it’s not something he does regularly, and having someone else do it is always different. It’s much better.
Dean hums around the hot, pulsing flesh in his mouth, and chastely humps the mattress to relieve some of the pressure in his groin. With half lidded eyes, he watches every expression that crosses Sam’s face. He is beautiful like this. Croaking his finger just right, Dean rubs the sensitive gland that starts to swell at the stimulation, and Sam arches his back.
“Oh god, Dean! I’m close!” Sam sputters with rolling eyes. He has one hand pressed flat to the headboard as he ruts into Dean’s mouth. Sam groans unabashed as Dean doubles his efforts. He sucks on the tip of Sam’s length until his whole crotch is tingling, and rubs his prostate to the point where he is trying to clench his thighs from overstimulation.
Barely a minute has passed when Sam’s balls draw up tight. His features go slack as he releases with a low moan. Dean coughs surprised as the first shot of seed hits the back of his throat. He pulls up an inch, but doesn’t stop his doing, and carries Sam through the high of his climax. He swallows everything his brother has to give, only pulling away as Sam’s cock begins to grow soft.
Dean carefully removes his digit from Sam’s now oversensitive channels and looks up to find him totally out of it. “You alright, Sammy?” Dean asks slightly worried as he sees the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He hovers above Sam and runs a hand through his unruly hair. Dean smiles relieved as Sam opens his eyes again to blink up at him with utmost adoration and love.
Before he can say anything, Sam surges forward to connect their lips in a bruising kiss. Startled, Dean moans and welcomes Sam’s seeking tongue. Sam holds him tight as he easily spins them around. Dean is too dazzled by the mind blowing kiss to notice. Sam worries Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth and soothes the sting with a sweep of his tongue.
He pulls away as he curls his hand around Dean’s hard cock. Sam growls aroused as he buries his face against his brother’s neck and marks his skin as he tugs on his shaft. He saw how Dean likes it. Just this side of rough with the focus on the glands around the head of his length. Sam strokes him while leaving a trail of hickeys on his neck, and Dean is stunned.
“Jesus, Sammy!” He gasps as his feet slide on the silky sheet in search of leverage. Dean is positively surprised by the wild lust radiating from Sam. He can solely hold on as he is being manhandled. Something he finds insanely arousing. Sam pushes Dean down on his back and makes himself at home between his bowed thighs.
Dean is too aroused to stop Sam even if he would have wanted to. He watches with dilated pupils as Sam grabs his shaft and without hesitation seals his mouth around the tip of his cock. He groans hoarsely and draws his legs up besides Sam’s head to trap him. Dean has been on edge for too long. It won’t require much to make him reach his peak.
Sam is aware of this as well which is why he doesn’t try to push past his limits. He hasn’t had experience with a man before. But he knows what feels good and will make Dean release. Instead of bobbing his head and swallowing more of Dean’s shaft, he keeps his lips sealed around the head, suckling on it as he works the rest of his member by hand.
Going by the noises coming from Dean, he is more than content with it. Sam is intrigued by the feel of Dean’s spongy flesh against his tongue. And the bitter taste of his pre-cum isn’t as bad as he had thought. Sam works with concentration and watches Dean squirm on the bed, his face contorted as the pleasure increases. He fondles Dean’s smooth balls and squeezes them rhythmically.
That is why Sam can predict the moment Dean is about to blow up. His balls pull taut, and Sam hums eagerly as he quickens his strokes. Dean tries to warn him, but his words end up in a moan as seed spurts out of him and into Sam’s waiting mouth. He swallows it quickly, not wanting to dwell on the odd consistency of the seed.
Dean sighs dreamily as Sam slips his mouth off his softening cock, and pulls him up. They kiss again, slow and sweet this time, before collapsing side by side. The still playing television is the only source of noise as Sam and Dean come down from their high. The room smells of sex and sweat, but neither of them is bothered by it.
Dean has thrown an arm across Sam’s chest and their legs are intertwined too, yet they aren’t really cuddling. Just being close. The lack of physical contact between them as they grew from children to men has bugged both of them in the past. And while Dean seems content with this new development, Sam is beginning to worry about what they did.
He wonders how Dean can be calm in light of the current incident. It’s unlike him. Sam would have expected a tantrum caused by panic and guilt. Dean should be yelling and breaking objects. But instead, he appears almost peaceful as he lies there naked, his eyes closed and a satisfied expression on his gorgeous face.
“I can hear you think, Sam. You are ruining my post orgasmic haze with all the angst I can feel coming from you. What’s up?” Dean mutters sleepily without opening his eyes. Some time without Sam realizing, Dean’s fingers started drawing invisible shapes on his bare chest. It has a calming effect. But Sam still can’t get rid of his troublesome thoughts.
“Aren’t you upset? About what we did? I mean, we…we are brothers. I just had your cock in my mouth. You had a finger up my butt. I expected more of an outbreak from you. How can you be so calm?” Sam asks quietly with an edge of confusion, and Dean sighs as he turns to look at him.
“I’ve spent most of my life in shame and misery because of how I feel about you, Sam. I'm sick of trying to run from my emotions. I can’t change them. You are everything to me and I have made peace with it. So no, I’m not upset. It just happened. It felt right. And I don’t regret it. Do you?”
Dean stares at Sam with an intensity that has the fine hairs at the nape of his neck rise. Sam is speechless as he processes everything Dean said. Does this count as a love declaration? It sure sounded like one. Sam is surprised by his own lack of guilt as he thinks about the situation, and he is left to agree. He doesn’t regret any of it.
Instead of answering Dean with words, Sam closes the short distance between them and kisses him chastely. Their lips don’t move. There is no tongue and no passion. Just raw emotion. Sam tries to express his love and acceptance with this innocent kiss. He knows the message was received when Dean smiles against his mouth.
Breaking away, Sam lies down again, but not without gluing himself to Dean’s side. He trails his fingers from Dean’s jaw to his neck, and thumbs one of the hickeys he has left there. Sam is still staring at it when Dean turns off the television and darkness claims the room. The sky outside is already turning from black into a light navy blue.
Sam is engulfed by Dean’s scent which has always been a comfort to him. The weight of Dean’s arm wrapped around his waist makes him feel safe, and he smiles. Sam places his hand on Dean’s hip and looks at him with a surge of affection and joy blooming in his heart.
“Do you still think my night moves need improvement?” Sam inquiries mischievously, and the smile grows into a grin as Dean’s surprised laugh echoes through the room. Dean twists around to make them lie chest to chest, every inch of skin from their toes up to their shoulders touching.
“No, you are good enough as it is, Sammy. I revoke the case.” Dean concludes with a chuckle as he curls his hand around Sam’s jaw to pull him close. Sam giggles as he follows Dean’s urging, and their lips meet a final time. The kiss tastes like love, glee, and devotion.
Maybe they didn’t intend to land in this bed together at the end of the night. But now that they are here, they are happy to have taken the risk despite everything that could have spoken against it. Because love is always worth it.