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spn_springflingTitle: Mostly Familiar
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Any warnings: Incest
Written by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aythia for ordinarily!
~*~
They all smell the same.
That was what he took away from all the pubs and bars that Dean dragged him to. The knowledge that no matter where they were, no matter what godforsaken corner of the country they found themselves in, the dives always smelled the same. It wasn’t something he wanted to know, but as with so much of his knowledge, it had lodged somewhere in the back of his brain and refused to go anywhere.
It wasn’t even a night that they needed to be there; they had enough money in their pockets, but Dean was leaning across the pool table, his eyes focused on the ball in spite of all the beers he’d already knocked back. Sam had no doubt that his brother would hit it in the corner, exactly where he wanted it. It was another piece of knowledge that whatever Dean wanted to happen usually did, particularly when it came to gambling, booze, and women. And Sam.
Clenching his jaw, Sam turned away from his brother, focusing on the cold beer slowly forming a ring of condensation on the worn old coaster. With the state of the bar itself, he didn't understand why they even bothered.
He didn't mind the nights out, not really. There was only so much a guy could take of small motel rooms and Magic Fingers, no matter how much his big brother swore by them, and if he was being honest with himself, Sam could admit that he didn't mind spending hours out at a bar as long as it allowed him to spend some time with Dean. It was too bad that Dean preferred to spend his time making sure that the other bar patrons left with considerably less money than they arrived with instead of hanging out with Sam. They’d better finish with the hunt soon, before people started coming after his brother with pitchforks and torches.
"Sammy!"
The voice was loud enough to make Sam jump, even more so because it was coming from right next to him rather than across the room where Dean had seemed very busy moments before.
"What?" Sam asked, glaring at his brother. The whole world really didn't need to know about that stupid nickname.
"Nothing," Dean said easily, sliding up onto the stool beside Sam and ordering himself a beer.
"Shouldn't you be out getting all their money into your pocket?" Sam asked without trying to keep the edge of annoyance out of his voice.
Dean turned around in his seat, looking back to where the men he had been playing had forgotten all about him in favor of eyeing the short skirt of the girl at the next table as she leaned forward to take her shot.
"We don't need the money." Dean shrugged. "Maybe next time."
He spun his stool back around, wrapping his strong fingers around the bottle and clinking it with Sam's before taking a deep swig, his lips curling around the mouth in a way that made Sam's cock take an interest that he didn't want to think too much about. It was one of those things they were both really good at not talking about.
"Right." He brought his own beer to his lips.
There was something there, something Dean wasn't telling him; their having money had never stopped Dean from playing before, and yet, there he was, loose-limbed and smiling. Something was definitely up.
~*~
Another bar, another state, and the smell was almost the same. The only thing missing was the scent of chalk from the pool tables; this one had opted for dart boards instead. Sam tried not to grin at the frown on his brother's face when they stepped inside.
"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, going straight up to the bar. He had a beer in his hand before Sam even reached him.
"It's not the end of the world," Sam said, accepting his own beer.
"For once," Dean said with a smirk.
"Maybe tomorrow?" Sam suggested. Neither of them laughed at the half-hearted joke.
After they’d saved the world, more than once, even, it just wasn't joke material anymore; they both fell silent for a while, Sam sipping his beer and Dean looking out over the room, a predatory tilt to his smile. With a sigh, Sam realized that he was probably in for another evening of Dean leaning in too close to a girl, his green eyes zeroed in on her like she was the only thing in the world. He would never admit it, but he hated it. And maybe he had hoped that it would stop after that kiss.
It hadn't.
Still, something had changed; Dean's gaze snapped back to Sam instead of tracking the blonde woman making her way towards the bar and that...had never happened before.
"This feels like a waste of time," Dean said, downing the last of his beer without so much as looking at the woman as she slid up onto the stool next to him.
Sam didn't bother answering, just raising an eyebrow at his brother and wondering what on earth was up with Dean lately.
"We should go back to the motel," Dean said, turning his back to the woman who was just preparing to talk to him.
Her perfectly painted mouth fell open and her gaze darted from Dean to Sam and then back again, her eyebrows drawing together. She sighed, waiving the bartender over to order herself a drink.
That was weird. Women didn't just give up on Dean that easily, but then again, Dean didn't turn his back on gorgeous women to go back to a rundown motel room with his little brother.
But Sam wasn't one to complain, whatever it was that was going on with Dean. He planned to reap all the benefits he could until it exploded in a dirty mess, the way things always did when they refused to talk about them. He shrugged, pushed away his half-empty beer and dropping a few bills on top of the bar before they made their way outside. Dean didn’t even look back.
~*~
The smell of warm food filled the room and Sam slowly allowed himself to be dragged out of sleep to rejoin the world of the living.
His side ached when he sat up, but after a successful day of hunting, that didn’t surprise him; he focused instead on the scent, kicking free of the sheets to stumble over to the wobbly little table where Dean was lining up boxes full of steaming Thai food.
"Figured you'd be hungry," he said in lieu of a greeting.
Blinking sleep from his eyes, Sam looked over at the clock on the wall; assuming the rusted thing still worked, it was almost noon, meaning that he had slept for the better part of twelve hours. He had passed hungry and moved straight on to ravenous quite some time ago and had just been waiting for Dean to get back so he could go out and get them some food.
It wasn't that Dean never brought food; he did, but he never brought the food Sam asked for, instead coming up with greasy burgers that made Sam want to throw the whole lot in the nearest trash can. Dean could live off of that stuff, and Sam...could too, but preferred not to. Then again, he preferred not to be charged with saving the world every now and again, but as usual, no one really listened to Sam. Except for the fact that Dean obviously did, because the boxes on the table held all Sam's favorites, and if Sam hadn't been so hungry, he might have asked about this weird behavior. Instead, he loaded a plate with food while Dean took a whole container and dug inside for chicken and noodles.
"'S good," Sam mumbled around a mouthful.
"Yeah? Good," Dean said. "Had to drive halfway across town to get that stuff."
There it was again. Sam stopped with food halfway to his mouth, not even caring about the noodles falling down to the worn formica tabletop. Sam knew that in the spirit of things, he should ignore it, let the moment pass until it became just another one of the many things they never talked about, but he pushed his food aside and fixed his gaze on Dean. His brother had to feel Sam's eyes on him, but Dean was nothing if not stubborn; the minutes dragged out while Dean steadfastly ignored Sam's expectancy.
"Are we going to talk about it?" Sam asked eventually.
"Your food is getting cold," Dean said, fishing a dumpling out of a container and popping it into his mouth.
"What's with you lately?" Sam pushed away from the table, ignoring the way the chair screeched across the floor.
"Sammy," Dean warned.
"One kiss," Sam said, unable to hold it back any longer. "One little kiss and now you're acting all… What are you after?"
Then it was Dean's turn to push away from the table, his fork falling to the floor with a clatter that sounded loud in the small motel room.
"What am I after? Are you… Is that what you think?" Dean spat. "It's… Fuck."
Sam could tell that his brother was seconds away from fleeing the scene, most likely to go out and drink the night away; he reached out to stop him, gripping Dean's wrist tight. When Dean finally looked at him, a mixture of anger and hurt and…something else in his eyes, everything slid into place.
"You're…” Sam trailed off. “Dean, are you… Are we… "
Emotions whirled inside Sam, crashing together and dragging him under, and in that moment, he got it; Dean hadn’t been acting so strangely to get anything. He had only done it for Sam.
Then Sam did the only thing that made sense.
He kissed Dean.
For a few long moments, he thought he had done something wrong, that maybe he had misread his brother, but before he could convince himself, he was on his back on the bed, Dean's body covering his and their lips searing together.
"You asshole," Dean growled, licking his way into Sam's mouth; Sam couldn't hold back a deep moan. "Didn't know...didn't think you wanted...but you do, don't you? Fuck—not letting you go once I have you."
His mind still spinning from all the sensations washing over him, Sam was more than okay with that plan.
~*~
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Any warnings: Incest
Written by
aythia for ordinarily!They all smell the same.
That was what he took away from all the pubs and bars that Dean dragged him to. The knowledge that no matter where they were, no matter what godforsaken corner of the country they found themselves in, the dives always smelled the same. It wasn’t something he wanted to know, but as with so much of his knowledge, it had lodged somewhere in the back of his brain and refused to go anywhere.
It wasn’t even a night that they needed to be there; they had enough money in their pockets, but Dean was leaning across the pool table, his eyes focused on the ball in spite of all the beers he’d already knocked back. Sam had no doubt that his brother would hit it in the corner, exactly where he wanted it. It was another piece of knowledge that whatever Dean wanted to happen usually did, particularly when it came to gambling, booze, and women. And Sam.
Clenching his jaw, Sam turned away from his brother, focusing on the cold beer slowly forming a ring of condensation on the worn old coaster. With the state of the bar itself, he didn't understand why they even bothered.
He didn't mind the nights out, not really. There was only so much a guy could take of small motel rooms and Magic Fingers, no matter how much his big brother swore by them, and if he was being honest with himself, Sam could admit that he didn't mind spending hours out at a bar as long as it allowed him to spend some time with Dean. It was too bad that Dean preferred to spend his time making sure that the other bar patrons left with considerably less money than they arrived with instead of hanging out with Sam. They’d better finish with the hunt soon, before people started coming after his brother with pitchforks and torches.
"Sammy!"
The voice was loud enough to make Sam jump, even more so because it was coming from right next to him rather than across the room where Dean had seemed very busy moments before.
"What?" Sam asked, glaring at his brother. The whole world really didn't need to know about that stupid nickname.
"Nothing," Dean said easily, sliding up onto the stool beside Sam and ordering himself a beer.
"Shouldn't you be out getting all their money into your pocket?" Sam asked without trying to keep the edge of annoyance out of his voice.
Dean turned around in his seat, looking back to where the men he had been playing had forgotten all about him in favor of eyeing the short skirt of the girl at the next table as she leaned forward to take her shot.
"We don't need the money." Dean shrugged. "Maybe next time."
He spun his stool back around, wrapping his strong fingers around the bottle and clinking it with Sam's before taking a deep swig, his lips curling around the mouth in a way that made Sam's cock take an interest that he didn't want to think too much about. It was one of those things they were both really good at not talking about.
"Right." He brought his own beer to his lips.
There was something there, something Dean wasn't telling him; their having money had never stopped Dean from playing before, and yet, there he was, loose-limbed and smiling. Something was definitely up.
Another bar, another state, and the smell was almost the same. The only thing missing was the scent of chalk from the pool tables; this one had opted for dart boards instead. Sam tried not to grin at the frown on his brother's face when they stepped inside.
"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, going straight up to the bar. He had a beer in his hand before Sam even reached him.
"It's not the end of the world," Sam said, accepting his own beer.
"For once," Dean said with a smirk.
"Maybe tomorrow?" Sam suggested. Neither of them laughed at the half-hearted joke.
After they’d saved the world, more than once, even, it just wasn't joke material anymore; they both fell silent for a while, Sam sipping his beer and Dean looking out over the room, a predatory tilt to his smile. With a sigh, Sam realized that he was probably in for another evening of Dean leaning in too close to a girl, his green eyes zeroed in on her like she was the only thing in the world. He would never admit it, but he hated it. And maybe he had hoped that it would stop after that kiss.
It hadn't.
Still, something had changed; Dean's gaze snapped back to Sam instead of tracking the blonde woman making her way towards the bar and that...had never happened before.
"This feels like a waste of time," Dean said, downing the last of his beer without so much as looking at the woman as she slid up onto the stool next to him.
Sam didn't bother answering, just raising an eyebrow at his brother and wondering what on earth was up with Dean lately.
"We should go back to the motel," Dean said, turning his back to the woman who was just preparing to talk to him.
Her perfectly painted mouth fell open and her gaze darted from Dean to Sam and then back again, her eyebrows drawing together. She sighed, waiving the bartender over to order herself a drink.
That was weird. Women didn't just give up on Dean that easily, but then again, Dean didn't turn his back on gorgeous women to go back to a rundown motel room with his little brother.
But Sam wasn't one to complain, whatever it was that was going on with Dean. He planned to reap all the benefits he could until it exploded in a dirty mess, the way things always did when they refused to talk about them. He shrugged, pushed away his half-empty beer and dropping a few bills on top of the bar before they made their way outside. Dean didn’t even look back.
The smell of warm food filled the room and Sam slowly allowed himself to be dragged out of sleep to rejoin the world of the living.
His side ached when he sat up, but after a successful day of hunting, that didn’t surprise him; he focused instead on the scent, kicking free of the sheets to stumble over to the wobbly little table where Dean was lining up boxes full of steaming Thai food.
"Figured you'd be hungry," he said in lieu of a greeting.
Blinking sleep from his eyes, Sam looked over at the clock on the wall; assuming the rusted thing still worked, it was almost noon, meaning that he had slept for the better part of twelve hours. He had passed hungry and moved straight on to ravenous quite some time ago and had just been waiting for Dean to get back so he could go out and get them some food.
It wasn't that Dean never brought food; he did, but he never brought the food Sam asked for, instead coming up with greasy burgers that made Sam want to throw the whole lot in the nearest trash can. Dean could live off of that stuff, and Sam...could too, but preferred not to. Then again, he preferred not to be charged with saving the world every now and again, but as usual, no one really listened to Sam. Except for the fact that Dean obviously did, because the boxes on the table held all Sam's favorites, and if Sam hadn't been so hungry, he might have asked about this weird behavior. Instead, he loaded a plate with food while Dean took a whole container and dug inside for chicken and noodles.
"'S good," Sam mumbled around a mouthful.
"Yeah? Good," Dean said. "Had to drive halfway across town to get that stuff."
There it was again. Sam stopped with food halfway to his mouth, not even caring about the noodles falling down to the worn formica tabletop. Sam knew that in the spirit of things, he should ignore it, let the moment pass until it became just another one of the many things they never talked about, but he pushed his food aside and fixed his gaze on Dean. His brother had to feel Sam's eyes on him, but Dean was nothing if not stubborn; the minutes dragged out while Dean steadfastly ignored Sam's expectancy.
"Are we going to talk about it?" Sam asked eventually.
"Your food is getting cold," Dean said, fishing a dumpling out of a container and popping it into his mouth.
"What's with you lately?" Sam pushed away from the table, ignoring the way the chair screeched across the floor.
"Sammy," Dean warned.
"One kiss," Sam said, unable to hold it back any longer. "One little kiss and now you're acting all… What are you after?"
Then it was Dean's turn to push away from the table, his fork falling to the floor with a clatter that sounded loud in the small motel room.
"What am I after? Are you… Is that what you think?" Dean spat. "It's… Fuck."
Sam could tell that his brother was seconds away from fleeing the scene, most likely to go out and drink the night away; he reached out to stop him, gripping Dean's wrist tight. When Dean finally looked at him, a mixture of anger and hurt and…something else in his eyes, everything slid into place.
"You're…” Sam trailed off. “Dean, are you… Are we… "
Emotions whirled inside Sam, crashing together and dragging him under, and in that moment, he got it; Dean hadn’t been acting so strangely to get anything. He had only done it for Sam.
Then Sam did the only thing that made sense.
He kissed Dean.
For a few long moments, he thought he had done something wrong, that maybe he had misread his brother, but before he could convince himself, he was on his back on the bed, Dean's body covering his and their lips searing together.
"You asshole," Dean growled, licking his way into Sam's mouth; Sam couldn't hold back a deep moan. "Didn't know...didn't think you wanted...but you do, don't you? Fuck—not letting you go once I have you."
His mind still spinning from all the sensations washing over him, Sam was more than okay with that plan.
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Date: 2012-06-11 10:23 pm (UTC)Oh, this is just lovely!
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Date: 2012-06-17 12:10 am (UTC)I'm sorry it took me so long to read this, by the way - I'm on vacation delay this week. :)
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Date: 2012-06-24 09:42 am (UTC)I love writing Sam and Dean... but they are scary to write as well, I'm happy this challenge made me do it and I'm even happier that you liked it.
And I've been off on vacation as well, and now back to my rainy home country :P Joy...