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The hunt had been a simple one. A tedious and drawn out one, but compared to their old, rollercoaster lives it had been simple. Simple and yet time consuming. They finished off the nest way, way out in the middle of nowhere, hours away from civilization. Much to Sam’s chagrin.
His wristwatch had ticked well past two by the time they had finished disposing of the corpses. Meaning there would be no strip clubs and no bars tonight, nothing special to mark the occasion with. No lap dances, no tiddies, no endless rounds, no pool hustling. The idea of not celebrating the day didn’t sit well in Sam’s gut, so he opted to pursue Plan C. It wouldn’t be flashy, but it would be something.
Luckily, he had already prepared all the necessary components for the plan before they’d left town all those hours ago. Everything was waiting for them in the Impala, which they reached at about a quarter to three. Dean massaged the rear bumper hello like she was a hot date or something and then took her keys out of his pocket while Sam busied himself with wiping his machete off on the grass. Vamp blood and bits of flesh. Perhaps even some particles of bone. They all got left on a spot of grass beside the wheel. It was all that remained of the vampire nest: a couple smears of dark red in the dirt.
The trunk creaked open, the light kicking on and Dean silhouetted there with his machete propped against his shoulder like a soldier with a rifle. Sam exchanged his stained machete with his brother’s without a word, cleaning off all the excess viscera, while above him Dean splashed holy water on his blade. It wouldn’t do anything extra to a vampire, but it was the only water they had on hand. They cleaned up their tools in companionable silence. Using rags for the machetes and a combination of rags and wipes for themselves. For such a long hunt and such messy kills, they actually weren’t that dirty. Or at least not as dirty as they could have been.
Dean tossed his used wipes out onto the ground and Sam did the same. “Not a bad night’s work, eh, Sammy?”
During their last supply run Sam had splurged and bought them the biodegradable wipes despite his older brother’s protests. Dean didn’t like change. Even if it was only a lateral move. ‘Hippie shit’, Dean had called it, head shaking from the higher than usual price tag.
“Nope.” Sam closed the hatch and they both walked to their respective sides. Their doors swung open in squeaky tandem and the brothers slid into their customary seats. Sam sighed quietly through his nose, safe at home. The car rocked slightly as they shut themselves in and Dean dramatically sighed out loud for a job well done and a day off tomorrow that was well earned.
“That’s how it should be, Sammy,” Dean intoned like an amateur philosopher. He reached over and patted Sam’s knee twice through his grungy, mud stained jeans before sliding the keys into the ignition and turning the car on. “A cakewalk. That’s how I like ‘em and that’s how they all oughta go.”
“If only,” Sam agreed, somewhat pessimistically. He turned in his seat and reached for their cooler in the back. He flipped the lid open and pulled something up out from beneath the bag of ice he had thrown inside yesterday afternoon. “But speaking of cake…”
Dean peeked. “ Dude . Ya got me pie?!” Sam basked in that ridiculously excited look in his brother’s eyes and set the pie down between them as Dean rubbed his palms together in greedy expectation. “I didn’t think you remembered.”
Sam winced. He was a bad brother. “I’m sorry this is late. I didn’t think the hunt would go so long,” he explained as an apology. He sliced his finger across the sticky tab keeping the pie sealed and pried the lid up. “But I got you cherry, because I know it’s your favorite.”
With a delighted chortle, Dean yanked the pie box out of his hands and raised it to his face taking a deep whiff as if it was fresh from the oven and not a cold store bought thing. He grinned like it was the best thing he had ever smelled. “ Mmm , cherry pie,” Dean muttered like a lunatic.
Bemused and a tad proud of himself, Sam smiled and went about revealing the rest of the supplies. From the glove compartment he dug out some fast food napkins, a stainless steel knife from their kitchen in the bunker, and a box of plastic forks he had bought at a gas station. “I do love me some cherry pie,” Dean affirmed, his voice laced with innuendo. He wiggled his eyebrows just in case his meaning might be ambiguous.
Sam huffed a laugh through his nose, a sound suspiciously reminiscent of a snort, and dealt out the napkins, setting one on his own knee for himself and one on Dean’s since his hands were full of pie. “Ah, you’re a gentleman and a scholar.”
Dean placed the pie back on the seat between them. Then and only then did Sam pass his brother the knife. “Birthday boy makes the first cut,” he declared like a proud parent.
“Aw, Sammy you shouldn’t have,” Dean demurred, but he didn’t really mean it. He eagerly whipped the knife out of Sam’s hand and sliced himself a thick chunk of pie that was almost too big to sit on his leg.
Silently fond of his brother’s shameless appetite, Sam smiled and reached into the cooler again. He picked up a couple of beers by the necks and twisted off both their caps. He had to wait a minute before handing a bottle to his brother who had already stuffed a giant bite of pie into his mouth. No fork required. “One of these days you’re going to choke to death stuffing your face like that,” he playfully warned.
“Wha ah ya tahi ahout,” Dean asked, his mouth fully open with partially chewed pie threatening to spill over his lips. Sam groaned in mild disgust and looked away while the stretched corners of Dean’s mouth turned up in a grin as he chewed and chewed. Once he audibly swallowed, Sam passed him a beer and then cut a more reasonably proportioned slice of pie for himself. Dean read the label and whistled low. “Name brand beer and a cherry pie? Sammy, you’re spoiling me.”
“No complaints?” Sam took a much more sensible sized bite of his slice using one of the plastic forks he had bought.
Dean brought the bottle to his lips and took a long swig of his beer. Sam watched his brother’s Adam’s apple bob up and down with his luxurious gulp. Dean exhaled softly under his breath at the richer, darker flavor and shook his head. “Not a damn one,” he proclaimed with complete confidence. He took yet another, even deeper draught of his beer. “In fact, I could get used to this.”
“Happy birthday, Dean,” Sam replied. He held his beer out towards his older brother.
“Thank you, Sammy.” Dean clinked their beer bottles together and both of the brothers took a sip to finish their toast. Dean sighed and added softly, almost casually, “It’s awesome.”
Blushing from the honest compliment, Sam shrugged. “I had planned on getting you a lapdance at a club back in Minnesota, but well…,” he pointed the tines of his fork out the window at the woods and meadows around them, indicating the isolated nowhere they had ended up in.
“You still could,” Dean readily supplied, pausing for a beat to let his words sink in. He looked Sam right in the eye and arched his eyebrow. “If you’re offering.”
A laugh burst from Sam’s chest, his white teeth reflecting in the moonlight, his dimples appearing under his brother’s impish gaze and teasing smile. Sam hurriedly wiped his mouth with an extra napkin. “Sorry, big boy, but you couldn’t afford me,” he boasted, sneaking another small bite of pie.
Dean cackled at the rejoinder and happily resumed chomping on his slice. He chuckled in phases as he stuffed his face, guzzling beer to help it all go down. For a while they ate in comfortable silence, both of them finishing their slices of cherry pie and their first beers in quick succession. Sam grabbed them a refill on the drinks, pulling two more bottles of the name brand stuff out, while Dean cut himself another large slice.
“Thanks,” Dean muttered, happily taking his next beer. He pointed the knife down at the rapidly disappearing pie. “You want some more?”
“No, you have the rest,” Sam politely declined, wiping his mouth of any crumbs with an extra napkin. He grinned. “It’s all for you, birthday boy.”
“You’re a good man, Sammy.” Dean winked at him and smiled broadly, before loudly munching on his new slice. Sam shook his head fondly and then grabbed his messenger bag from the footwell. Dean watched him, curious. “Whatcha got there, Sammy,” he asked with his mouth only partly full. “Ooh, you got some whipped cream by any chance? I could lick it off your boobs while you gimme that lapdance.”
With a sardonic snort, Sam quipped, “Sorry, dude, the last gas station we stopped at didn’t have any.”
From his bag, Sam revealed another box. This one was flatter than the pie and wrapped in old newspaper. “But I did get you something.”
“ Ooh ,” Dean cooed like a greedy magpie. He plopped his beer into his cupholder and then stuffed the last remaining chunk of his second slice into his mouth, before sucking cherry syrup off his fingers. He brushed his palms against each other and his jeans to get rid of any crumbs and then nabbed the gift out of Sam’s hands.
As he chewed, he weighed the box in his hands, trying to discern the contents from the feel of it. It wasn’t heavy, but it did have a bit of heft. Whatever was inside seemed pretty rigid. Solid. But he had to ask, “Is it skin mags? Ya know, a man can never have too many erotic magazines.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Sam muttered to himself, rolling his eyes.
“Uh…Let me guess,” Dean continued like he was playing a game. “You’re finally giving me a plaque for being such an awesome big brother?”
Sam snorted. “Dude, just open it, already.”
With a gleeful snicker, Dean tore into the paper and tossed the trash at his brother’s lap. Sam scooped it all up and waded it all into a ball. He opened his door and dumped their trash out into the grass. Littering was the least of their crimes anyway…
Dean eyed the white, unlabeled gift box a tad confused then slid his fingers up under the edges of the top. He pulled the lid off and chucked it absently at his brother while staring at his gift. He pushed aside the newspaper stuffed inside for packing and pulled out a sleek new tablet. “What’s with the gizmo, Q? You sure this ain’t for you?”
“I’m sure.” Sam tossed the discarded lid into the backseat and grabbed the rest of the box and wrapping from his brother’s confused hands. “Turn it on,” he prodded.
Dean gave him a look, but pressed the power button once he found it. The tablet chimed and the screen kicked on. “The password—?”
“Seven, six, seven, six,” Sam rattled off.
“Odd choice,” Dean remarked offhand. “What’s that supposed to be?”
“You’ll see,” Sam said cryptically. Dean tapped in the code with his pointer finger and the screen unlocked. Then he looked up for further instructions and Sam said, “Go to files, then click videos.”
“You download us a movie or something?” Dean thumbed the screen and as directed and in the folder selected rows upon rows of video files popped up. The entire memory’s worth. Dean’s eyes went wide as he studied the rows upon rows of thumbnails and noticed the titles. “Sammy…”
“It’s all your favorite softcore pay per views,” Sam proudly stated like he hadn’t just announced with his full chest that he had gotten his brother porn for his birthday. “All the ones I could get digitally at least. We can swap them out if you like. I tried to get the best quality, but some of the older ones are hard to come by—“
“I’ll bet they are,” Dean muttered, unable to help himself.
With a fond smile, Sam rolled his eyes and ran smoothly past the innuendo. “I organized them by year, but you can move them around however you like. I cleared up as much space on the RAM as I could, so there should be enough room for a few more…”
“No, this is plenty,” Dean assured him in a soft voice.
“I figured—“ Sam licked his lips— “now that we don’t have anyone looking over our shoulders all the time, I figured we could afford a few more personal luxuries,” Sam explained with implied air quotes.
“Now you can take your softcore collection or any kind of porn you want, wherever you go,” he added cheerfully. A kid wanting extra points. “Free of charge.”
“Thank you, Sammy,” Dean said. Lifting his head, he shot his brother a wide, toothy smile. “It’s perfect.”
Sam shrugged, waving away the compliment. But a privately satisfied tilt to his lips appeared nonetheless. “Happy forty fourth, Dean.”
“It’s the best, Sammy. Really,” Dean promised. He swiped through the filthy display of titles and thumbnails before selecting one from the eighties. Swanky music drifted up from the tablet as the credit screens rolled.
Sam’s hidden smile took over his whole face. He was happy that his unorthodox gift had been appreciated but mostly his smile was due to his brother being his brother and going after porn like a dog with a bone. “Hey, uh, do you three want some alone time?” He offered, knowing precisely which video Dean had gone for first. He gestured out the window. “I can make myself scarce if you—”
“Wha?” Dean yanked his head out of pornlandia and blinked, shaking his head. “No, dude. Stay.”
“But you’re…I mean—“ Sam cut himself off, blushing red as he swallowed the question he didn’t dare articulate. “Aren’t you?”
As always, Dean caught his drift. He nodded. “Porn is art. And art is meant to be appreciated .”
“Then I should…”
“Stay, Sammy,” Dean said softly while the voice of a woman monologuing about touching herself played over the tablet speaker. He gulped, his expression open and vulnerable. “You should, I mean, you can, appreciate it with me. If you want.”
“But, I—I mean we…don’t,” Sam stuttered.
Dean nodded, not needing whole sentences in order to understand. “It’s not like we haven’t,” —he gulped—“appreciated ‘art’ together before.”
Sam turned bright red at the memory. Back when he was a teenager and his dick seemed to have a mind of its own and he hadn’t learned how to control himself yet. How to reel himself in. Shit. He still didn’t. Sam shrunk into himself. “You—you knew?”
“You weren’t exactly subtle, dude,” Dean teased, trying to break the weirdness. Sam nodded, his head hanging with embarrassment. Dean changed tacks. He didn’t mean to rub salt in a tender spot. That wasn’t his point. He licked his lips. “I used to…to watch you,” he quickly admitted. “Out of the corner of my eye.”
“What?” Sam’s head snapped up, his gaze suddenly back on his brother. Dean hit pause on the video. “You…when?!”
“On nights growing up,” Dean mumbled, going pink himself as he stared out the windshield. “When I’d stay up late. Watching Skinemax. And you’d pretend to be asleep in the bed across from me.”
“Dean…?” Sam whispered, lost and young. Needing guidance in this new, vulnerable territory.
But his brother kept looking off into the middle distance, reminiscing. “I’d see your hands moving under the motel blankets. Just like mine. The two of us pitching matching tents…”
“ Dean .”
“Made myself sick thinking I was corrupting you or something,” Dean confessed, his voice still tinged with shame. “Had to force myself to stop. About drove me crazy—“
“Dean, I’m sorry. I didn’t—“
Dean’s head whipped around and he met Sam’s gaze for the first time since the revelation. “No, Sammy. I’m sorry,” he countered. Taking the burden and the blame onto his shoulders alone. “You were still a kid. I was the adult I shouldn’t have—“
“You were barely nineteen,” Sam argued. Pulling some of the weight back onto himself, he added, “And it’s not like I was totally pure by then anyway. I’d been ‘borrowing’ Dad’s old skin mags for years by that point.”
With a light chuckle, Dean got a fond faraway smile on his face. “Talk about classics,” he muttered. He looked over to his brother out from under his eyebrows and nudged him with his elbow. “I bet we could find some copies online and get ‘em shipped to the P. O. box. Relive some of the old days...”
“Dean, we—we probably shouldn’t,” Sam said deflating under the gravity of his own sense of propriety.
“Why not? We’ve shared before,” Dean argued, suddenly fully invested on the weird path he had chosen. “We used to swap those things back and forth all the time.”
“We were dumbass kids with too much time on our hands,” Sam insisted. He shook his head, refocusing on the true crux of the problem. “Plus, I mean…”
“It’s my birthday, dude,” Dean murmured as if that explained or justified his request at all. He tapped the play button again with his thumb. The blonde woman started moaning and sighing in the way only pornstars did.
“Getting to share this…” Dean started to say. “…with you , Sammy—”
Tentative in a way he so rarely was, Dean reached out and rested his hand on his brother’s broad shoulder. Sam sharply inhaled, forcing himself not to gawk at his brother’s warm, gentle hand. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his dick pulsing with interest. Dean squeezed his shoulder, comforting and yet bewildering. “That’d be just about the best gift I ever got.”
Sam’s cock throbbed. “Dean—“
“Only if you want to,” Dean hastily asserted. He ripped his hand off Sam’s shoulder and Sam shivered a little at the loss of the extra warmth.
“Are you—“ Sam swallowed around the lump in his throat, his heart threatening to vomit out of him. His voice dropped so low it was barely audible over the blonde pleasuring herself. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Dean croaked. He gulped. “If it’s you and me…I’m sure. One hundred percent. All in.”
After a long interminable beat, Sam nodded. He sagged into the seat and spread his legs wider, relaxing into the moment. Dean let out a shaky breath and gradually followed suit, their denim clad knees brushing against each other. It sent thrills up their spines. “Sammy…”
“I always wanted to be just like you when I grew up,” Sam quietly confessed, his hands making quick work of his belt and zipper. But he couldn’t look at his brother just yet.
“It’s never too late,” Dean joked to break the tension. He swallowed a nervous laugh and quickly set the tablet on its base on top of the dashboard between them. Then he yanked the extra end of his belt out the loops and started undoing the buckle. He pushed his jeans down off his waist to his thighs letting his hard dick still trapped in his briefs breathe a bit.
Meanwhile right next to him, Sam pushed his jeans down past his knees, lifting his ass off the seat to do it. His fancy, special underwear went that way too and Dean stared, openly gawking. His little Sammy had really grown. Grown up good!
Sam caught him staring. He went red. “Aren’t you—?”
“You bet your sweet ass, Sammy.” Quick as a whip, Dean yanked his briefs down and freed his cock, his seven and some inches paling in comparison to the beast Sam was wielding. Dean burned, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth and something like pride welling in his chest. He looked over Sam’s thick two-hander and nodded to himself because it seemed only right that Sammy would be so big.
Something deep inside him slotted into place. He couldn’t say what or why, but he smiled, grinning from ear to ear as he and Sam jerked off separately together while watching some classic vintage softcore porn on his new tablet. “I always liked her tits,” he confessed, when a certain brunette appeared next to the original blonde.
“I thought so,” Sam smirked, gently using both his hands. “I remember you watching her a lot.”
“She always seemed to be having a good time,” Dean replied, stroking in time with his little brother. “Like she actually, really enjoyed her job.”
“Just like you,” Sam observed, without a hint of judgment. The two women on the screen started making out and playing with each other’s breasts.
“Yeah,” Dean breathlessly agreed, his gut curling in. Normally, he hated being so seen, so vulnerable. Except for when it was around Sam or for Sam. Just him and no one else. He liked being open with his little brother. He liked it a lot. He wanted to share everything with him. Everything. He couldn’t for the life of him remember why they hadn’t always been like this. Why they had always tiptoed around it. Never admitting how much they really shared. Hell, they’d already banged the same chick before. Doing this was far less weird than that.
In the end, Dean jizzed onto his own shirt unbothered by the consequences. It was Sam’s turn to do laundry anyway. He couldn’t keep himself from staring as Sam came right after, catching his load in his palm. He panted seeing his little brother slurp up most of his come right out of his palm as if semen wasn’t salty and kind of gross.
Then Sam met his gaze and Dean’s heart thudded against his ribs. For a long moment they just looked, eye to eye. Soup to soul. And then Sam used his extra napkins to clean the rest of his jizz up. Being a gentleman he passed some over to Dean and both the brothers wiped their junks and got redressed. Dean finally stopped the video and closed the tablet.
“Great gift, Sammy,” he said. “That college education is finally starting to pay off.”
“Ha, ha,” Sam said dryly.
“No, but really, Sammy, I mean it,” Dean slid his right hand and gripped the side of Sam’s neck meeting his brother’s gaze. “Thank you.”
Sam nodded. Dean let his thumb trace the underside of his brother’s stubbled jaw, his dick twitching in renewing interest. But he pulled his hand away and got the wheels rolling.
He drove them around for hours in no particular direction and not in any hurry. Just driving. Feeling Baby rumble beneath them like a purebred. The two of them together. Just along for the ride. And neither of them would’ve had it any other way.