cover art by eosrose
This podfic is also available for download from the audiofic archive.
Last updated November 28, 2015.
Dean would like to claim that it all started out innocently, but the truth was that he and Sam had always been fucked up. Sure, Sam had been cold – shaking with it as a matter of fact. But Dean hadn’t had to swaddle him up in blankets and drag his little brother back to his room for a cuddle session.
If Dean were to defend himself, he would bring up the fact that Sam had been trying to warm himself up by standing in front of an open oven. That wasn’t normal. It had been three in the morning though, and Dean had been sleep deprived. He’d only been up because his bladder insisted it couldn’t make it until morning. Maybe if he’d been more awake, he’d have come up with a different solution than dragging his brother off to bed for some cuddling and a lecture about how Sammys weren’t made for cooking.
The point was that Dean hadn’t set out to be a creepy big brother. He hadn’t. It had just happened. It was his dick’s fault. His dick liked spooning with Sam’s ass. It was a big, fat traitor in every way.
Did Dean have to listen to his cock? Well, no. But Dean had never done well at not listening to his penis. It was a problem that he had never bothered fixing, and now he was paying the price – all five-hundred and fifty dollars of it.
See, Dean couldn’t walk into Sam’s room and hit on him. He’d tried that. Sam had thought he was being annoying on purpose and told him to go away.
Outright humping his still recovering brother while they were curled up for warmth was out of the question. It was one thing to pursue a little fraternal incest. They were fucked up like that, and they’d both done worse. But it was another thing entirely to start up frottage of dubious consent. Sam might start thinking that their warming cuddle sessions came with a price or something.
Serious conversation was also a no go. Dean just wasn’t good at the heartfelt stuff unless imminent danger was upon them. He didn’t think blue balls qualified as a calamity.
Physical communication had been a bust as well. Sam seemed to think all the extra hugs and meaningful touches were Dean’s way of making sure that they were still there, still together. As if Dean didn’t have eyes and ears for that.
So Dean was reduced to gifts and bribery. Of course, fancy gadgets wouldn’t do. They were useful for hunting and all that jazz. They weren’t personal. Sam would take them the wrong way. Romantic gifts required sacrifice not usefulness.
“You’d better not pee in my car,” Dean warned the chubby, fluffy golden doodle in his arms. The puppy tried to lick him in response.
“You’re disgusting,” Dean informed it.
“There’s a puppy in the library,” Sam blurted out as he stumbled into the kitchen.
“Is there now?” Dean deadpanned.
“Dude, I am not crazy,” Sam insisted. “There is a dog in our bunker.”
Dean frowned. Apparently studied nonchalance had not been the way to go. “Yeah Sam,” he drawled slowly, “I know.
“You think he got in here by himself?”
Sam gaped at him. “You brought a dog home? You?”
“Hey, I like dogs just fine,” Dean lied.
“Uh-huh,” Sam said, face morphing into that special brand of disbelief that Sam had been practicing since he was five.
“He’s yours,” Dean informed his brother. “You’d better cleanup after him and make sure he goes potty outdoors and gets his walkies.”
“Walkies?” Sam mouthed at him, the faintest beginnings of a smile trying to pull his dimples out of hiding.
“Shut up,” Dean ordered gruffly as he turned around to hide the blush trying to work its way onto his face. The things he did for his dick.
Sam named the dog Enos after his favorite Dukes of Hazzard character. Dean didn’t say anything about young Sam’s questionable tastes. He wanted to get laid and that generally didn’t involve insulting the object of one’s lusts.
He did, however, say something when Sam started taking the dog to bed with him. Dean didn’t care about pets on the furniture. After ghoul guts, doggy fur wasn’t so gross. But he did care that Sam went to his own bed with the dog. Fluffy puppies were a boner killer no matter what the sleeping arrangement, but Sam being in an entirely different room seemed counterproductive to Dean’s plans.
Sam, the bastard, just gave Dean a funny look and told him to mind his own business. “Fuck off Dean,” were his exact words. Dean thought that was a little harsh, but he could admit that, “You shouldn’t be letting that dog sleep with you,” had been a little bossy in tone. He could’ve phrased it better.
Dean didn’t sleep well that night. It wasn’t because he was a lonesome, cuddle-less person. Not at all. He just couldn’t stop thinking. He was perfectly fine on his own.
Enos, it turned out, had better taste in food than his owner. Where Sam ate granola and nasty, dry toast, Enos gladly shared a pound of bacon and scrambled eggs with Dean in the mornings.
The dog also had good mechanical sense. Sure, the drool was a bit weird at first, but a spare rag cleaned the tool handles right off. Plus, Dean didn’t have to share his beer in trade for some company while he was doing a tune up.
“Good Boy,” Dean praised as Enos trotted up with the wrench he needed. Even though he was growing every day, Enos was still wobbly as he balanced his front paws on the impala’s front bumper. His wagging tail didn’t help matters. The damned thing shook his puppy behind so hard that he almost tipped over. Dean smiled and pretended that he didn’t find it cute.
“Dean? Have you seen… There you are!” Sam’s voice echoed out over the gravel, and Enos slunk underneath the car with a whimper, curly golden tail tucked between his legs.
“Aw, come on Sammy, bath time is no fun,” Dean teased.
“Thought you didn’t like dogs,” Sam grunted as he dropped to his knees and tried to reach under the car to grab his puppy.
Dean ‘hmmmed’ in a non-committal way and watched Sam’s ass sway as his efforts at dog catching kept failing. Sam looked good on his knees. Real good.
“Here boy,” Dean called out hoarsely before his dick got any ideas about using his mouth to proposition Sam for a blow job. Enos came scampering around the side of the impala to hide behind Dean’s legs.
“Traitor!” Sam hissed. Dean wasn’t sure which of them he was addressing.
“Gotta learn how to speak dog, Sammy,” Dean taunted.
“You don’t even like dogs,” Sam grumbled as he picked a very sad looking Enos off the ground and stomped back towards the entrance to the family bunker.
“You don’t like dogs,” Sam announced when he burst into Dean’s bedroom, catching him in the act of reading A Tale of Two Cities.
Dean flushed and shoved the novel under his pillow. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately,” he said, trying to distract his brother.
It didn’t work.
“Was that a book?” Sam asked.
Dean scowled. If he had known that Sam was about to come into to his room uninvited, he’d have been rubbing one out. Showing off and teaching his little brother a lesson about knocking first sounded like a great achievement in multi-tasking.
“You ever learn to knock?” Dean challenged.
“It was a book!” Sam crowed, jumping on Dean’s bed to grab under the pillow. He came out with both the book and Dean’s bottle of lube.
“Tell me you weren’t beating off to Madame Defarge,” Sam said.
“Knitting is hot,” Dean quipped as he snatched back his novel.
“Sure it is,” Sam agreed with false solemnity.
“You need something?” Dean asked.
The smile on Sam’s face fell as his features rearranged themselves into their caring and sharing form. “We need to talk.”
Dean’s heartbeat picked up, and his mouth went dry in panic. “About what?”
Sam took a deep breath. “I’m not about to die or go crazy again.”
“Good?” Dean said, befuddled.
“Look. You’ve been suspiciously nice to me lately. And it is creeping me out, okay? I thought maybe you were dying or, or leaving at first. But that isn’t like you. The leaving part anyway.”
“Then it finally dawned on me that all this stuff you’ve been doing was just you trying to make me feel better so that I wouldn’t give up or…”
“Stop!” Dean ordered. “Please don’t make me some sort of saint here.”
“I know you were afraid,” Sam said gently, and Dean couldn’t take it anymore.
“I wasn’t afraid. I was trying to get in your pants,” Dean snapped. “Honestly? I’ve seen you die, and I’ve seen you go bonkers. Give me some credit for knowing the signs.”
“Wait,” Sam held up a hand, “in my pants how?”
“Really?” Dean asked in disbelief. “How do you think?”
“No, I’ve developed a burning need to practice urology,” Dean sarcastically answered.
“I thought you weren’t gay.”
“Not for just anybody, no.”
“So you’re bisexual now?” Sam asked.
“Is the definition of my sexuality what is actually important to this conversation?” Dean said as he rubbed his forehead. Sometimes conversing with Sam could be a chore.
“Sort of?” Sam answered.
“Sam, your big brother just told you he wanted to bone your ass, and you want to talk about his number on the Kinsey scale?”
“No, but I’m kind of having troubles working up any shock over it. It’s not like this is unexpected.”
“Dean, if it was truly surprising, you wouldn’t have told me like that. You would’ve, I don’t know, done the teary eyed, roadside confession bit or something.”
“I… You… I think you just insulted me.”
“Want me to kiss it and make it better?” Sam said with a smirk.
Dean scowled at him before slapping on a grin of his own. “Actually, I do.”
Sam looked a little nonplussed.
“What’s a matter, Sammy? Didn’t you expect that?” Dean taunted.
“Asshole,” Sam accused before grabbing Dean’s face and pushing a kiss against his lips.
“You call that a kiss?” Dean challenged.
“Think you can do better?” Sam shot back.
“Watch me,” Dean said as he rolled Sam onto his back and straddled his hips. He didn’t give Sam time to think before he leaned down and caught his lips. Sam’s mouth was open just the tiniest bit, and Dean took full advantage of that fact by slipping his tongue inside.
If Dean was any judge, Sam liked the kiss. Not that Dean was letting go of Sam’s mouth and asking his opinion about it, but he could feel the beginnings of a healthy boner starting to rub against him. Then the damned dog started crying, and Sam was pushing him off.
“Enos has to pee,” Sam mumbled as he pushed Dean off his hips and back onto the bed.
“So?” Dean asked with manful authority. He did not sulk, not even a little.
“You want him leaving puppy puddles on the floor?” Sam asked as if Dean was pouting like a little baby.
“Go let the little monster out,” Dean said, throwing a pillow at Sam’s retreating form. As far as he was concerned, he had two options while he waited. He could either freak out or get naked. Getting naked sounded like more fun.
Unfortunately for Dean, he was faster at stripping out of his clothes than Enos was at sniffing and piddling on every blade of grass outside the lair. So Dean spent the extra time taking condoms out of his bedside table. Then he decided that was a bit presumptuous, so he shoved them under his pillow. Then he realized he didn’t want his book messed up, so he put it away. Then he rearranged the shelf as long he was there because it could stand to be a little neater.
“Nervous?” Sam asked.
“You snuck up on me!” Dean accused, whirling around.
“You’re naked,” Sam observed, eyes trailing over Dean’s crotch.
Dean resisted the urge to cover his dick with his hands. “I was bored,” he said.
“Sure you were,” Sam said as he strode over to where Dean was standing. “You have freckles on your ass.”
“You swore never to mention those again,” Dean hissed. “You promised.”
“They’re adorable,” Sam continued as if Dean hadn’t just reminded him of his decades old vow.
“Your flirting technique needs work,” Dean informed him as he pulled Sam forward over the last few inches separating them.
“Well, you’re a little out of my normal seduction range. I’d pick you up and pin you against the wall, but I might put my back out.”
“You calling me fat?” Dean asked right before he leaned up and took another kiss. Sam made a choked noise in the back of his throat, and his hands found Dean’s not-at-all-speckled ass quickly.
“Just heavy,” Sam answered as he pulled out of the kiss and started yanking his shirt off over his head. “Tell me you’re not going to freak out in the morning,” he said as he started fumbling with his pants.
“Depends on if you’re still going to be here. ‘Cause if you’re not…”
“I will be,” Sam promised. “Now are we going to fool around?”
“Absolutely, Chicken Legs,” Dean said before pushing Sam backwards onto the bed and climbing on top of him.
“Hey!” Sam protested.
“You started it,” Dean reminded him.
“Mmm, question is if I’ll finish it.”
“Oh, you’d better finish it,” Dean threatened as he took hold of Sam’s dick.
“Bossy,” Sam said as he mirrored Dean’s action.
“You love it,” Dean grunted as Sam jerked him into hardness.
“Love you,” Sam countered softly, “just in case you thought I was doing this to get my rocks off.”
“Never crossed my mind. You are passably good looking and not completely incompetent at picking up chicks.”
“Women,” Sam corrected, “and you’re still a jerk. And if you call me a bitch right now, you are not putting your dick up my ass.”
Dean chose to keep his mouth shut and focus on more important things like popping the top open on the lube. Sam rolled onto his stomach when Dean shifted his weight up, and for a moment, Dean reveled in the sight of it.
“Got a nice butt, Sammy,” he said as he stroked his fingers down the crease. Sam shivered, though whether it was from excitement or laughter, Dean wasn’t sure. The chuckles coming from Sam’s mouth weren’t the most encouraging.
Dean decided not to take his chances with asking about it. Instead he worked his first finger inside. The moan that came out of Sam’s mouth was decidedly lewd.
“Okay, yeah,” Sam grunted, pushing backward, “that feels good.”
Dean answered him by pressing a kiss onto his upper back and another finger inside of him. The fit was a bit tighter, but Sam keened and whined, so Dean figured he was doing okay.
“Okay, now would be a good time to fuck me,” Sam said just as Dean was about to push a third finger in.
“I don’t think you’re…”
“Now, Dean,” Sam commanded. “I think I know my body better than you.”
Dean hesitated. “I’m not sure you…”
“So help me if you don’t roll a condom on and fuck me right this instant, I am going to go help myself.”
“Now who’s being bossy?” Dean asked as he took the condom packet out from its hiding place and ripped it open.
“Do you keep everything under your pillows?” Sam asked.
“Shut up,” Dean told him as he slicked lube over his now covered erection. “Don’t come crying to me in the morning if you’re sore,” he warned without any heat. He was bluffing, and Sam probably knew it.
“Fuck,” they both swore as Dean started pushing inside. From Dean’s end, it felt fantastic. Hot, tight and Sam all rolled up in one. He should’ve thought of doing it sooner. Way sooner.
“Memorize the experience later. Fuck me now,” Sam said as he reared backwards.
“Are you into pain or something?” Dean asked, frantically grabbing at Sam’s hips to slow his movements.
“Do you want me to go get my dildo, or can you just accept that I’m capable of taking it?” Sam huffed.
Dean laughed and shoved the rest of the way in, making Sam gasp. “Guess you can still surprise me,” he admitted as he started thrusting, searching for the right angle.
Sam laughed and tilted his hips this way and that. He moaned when Dean hit the right spot, and Dean adjusted his own trajectory to make sure that he kept pressing against it while they fucked.
Neither of them lasted long. Dean was balls deep in the tightest, hottest hole he’d been in for a while. He couldn’t be blamed for shooting off a little early. And he was a fantastic lay. He wasn’t surprised that Sam enjoyed it.
“Your ego is incredible,” Sam informed him as he flopped down on Dean’s side of the bed after yanking the now soiled bedspread off and throwing it on the floor.
Dean considered making him move, but he was tired. Besides, Sam might get the wrong idea and go back to his own room to cuddle with that damned dog instead of Dean.
“I’m awesome,” Dean argued sleepily as he crawled under the remaining covers to get close to Sam. It was going to be cold now that there was no coverlet. They’d need to share body heat.
“Yeah, you are,” Sam said softly.
“Damn straight or not,” Dean said with a chuckle.
“You’re hilarious,” Sam noted with far more sarcasm than Dean thought was warranted.
“Shut up,” Dean responded, snuggling in closer.
“Cold?” Sam asked.
“No,” Dean lied, “just thought you might be.”
“I’m sure,” Sam agreed as he rolled them onto their sides, spooning up behind Dean.
“Anything for my Sammy,” Dean mumbled as he started to drift off to sleep.
“Yeah,” he heard Sam whisper as he went under, “I know.”