Another Reason To Stay Off The Roads by icelily01 for <user sit

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Title: Another Reason To Stay Off The Roads
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
Any warnings: None

Written by icelily01 for mostly10!



The little black kit stays tucked into a corner of the trunk, hidden amongst books and medical supplies. It doesn’t get used much, usually finding its way to the bottom of the pile before Sam digs it out to cut Dean’s hair once every few months. He’s been doing it since he was a kid, buzzing down the back of Dean’s neck, the places his older brother couldn’t reach on his own. Their dad always said there was no point in paying for something you could do yourself, so Sam’s had a lot of practice.

Dean hasn’t.

“This is ridiculous,” he snaps, standing behind Sam, decidedly not cutting his hair like Sam asked him to at least a half an hour ago now.

Sam heaves an frustrated sigh and shifts in the motel chair, the plastic one that looks like it’s better suited for a redneck family picnic than something you actually paid to sit in. It’s been hurting his ass since he sat down and he’s getting impatient. Sam tugs at the corners of the old towel that’s wrapped around his shoulders, its color an off sort of eggshell, used-to-be-white.

“Dean,” he begins as gently as he can manage. “If you haven’t noticed, our faces are plastered on every street corner, on every television screen, on every everything, everywhere. Hell, our fake IDs have fake IDs.”

“I noticed,” Dean responds gruffly.

“You gave up driving the Impala.”

“Yeah, Sam, noticed that too.”

“So maybe, just maybe, cutting my hair is not that big of a deal. In fact, it’s probably a pretty good idea. Wouldn’t you say?”

He can hear Dean take a deep breath and let it out slow and Sam bites back a laugh. His brother, the infamous Dean Winchester. They say he can hunt anything, that he can slaughter anything. Wendigos, werewolves, ghouls, vampires… Name it, Dean’s done it. They say he’s unkillable.

But give him a pair of scissors and put his kid brother’s hairdo in his hands and suddenly he’s like a virgin on prom night.

“Dean, honestly—“

“Would you just shut up for a minute?” After a second, Dean lifts a lock of Sam’s hair and Sam can hear him give the scissors an experimental click, the blades cutting nothing but air.

There’s a pause that lasts for a few beats, long enough for Sam to raise his eyebrows and wonder what the hell Dean is even doing, before he feels Dean’s hand slip into his hair, threading it through his fingers. His fingertips press at Sam’s scalp and he groans quietly, leaning back into the touch.

“Can’t do it, Sammy,” Dean mutters.

“Why not?” Sam asks without opening his eyes.

“Because if I do…” Dean trails off. Sam feels his grip tighten and suddenly his head is yanked back, face tilted towards the ceiling and he has to open his eyes then. They meet his brother’s, Dean’s face just inches from his, eyes wide and serious. Dean closes the gap between them, pushing his mouth rough against Sam’s. The hand that’s not wound in his hair comes around and cups his throat, holding his head just where Dean wants him.

Sam lifts his arms and wraps them around Dean’s waist. Absently, he wonders where the hell they’re going from here and if maybe they could get there faster. Because honestly, he’s hard already and he might enjoy it when Dean pulls his hair but he’s starting to get a serious cramp in his neck.

Finally, Dean releases his throat, drops the hand between Sam’s thighs and grips him tighter there.

“If I do,” he repeats, “what’ll I have to hold on to?”