"Did you find anything interesting?"
Sam swept into the library, coffee cup in hand. He didn’t look any better than when Dean had sent him away a few hours ago, with the promise that he’d keep looking through the demon texts.
Biting his lip, Dean looked over the pile of books beside him. Good, serious books they were. Full of information that would help them greatly.
"Oh for fuck's sake, Dean!" Sam stormed up to him and grabbed the top most book. "We're a team, and I know you generally leave research to me, but you have to pull your goddamn weight! Do you know how many books there are on demons? Do you know how much time I have in a day? I need your help here, Dean! But if you're not going to do what you say, don't even bother offering."
In true Sam fashion, he shot him bitchface 62 (what have I done to deserve this) and exited the room. Sighing, Dean reached for the top book, and opened to a random page. And yeah. It was just like last time. Sighing even louder, he reached for his cell. It was time.
Cracking his back, Sam stared at the wall. Why were waiting rooms always so boring? The walls were some shade of beige. Probably beige. But maybe there was a colour more boring than beige, because whatever colour this was? It was sucking Sam’s will to live. The bright lights didn’t help. Oh sure, he understood why they were there, but the boring beige coupled with the fluorescent lights just made his head hurt. And the seats! Don’t get him started on about the seats!
Before he could start his mental rant, a bright and bubbly blond walked up to him smiling. Her hair was pulled back tight, and her glasses were purple framed and small. They really didn’t suit her, Sam thought uncharitably.
“Hi there, my names Darlene. Is there anything I can help you with today?”
From somewhere, Sam dredged up a smile. “No, I’m fine, thank you. Just here waiting for my-“
Dean’s shocked tones were music to his ears! They could finally leave.
“What the hell are you doing here, Sam?”
Huffing an annoyed breath, Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Seriously? You’ve been here ages. I finished all the shopping, and thanks for the help, by the way, and there was nothing new at the bookshop, so I-“
“Okay, okay, I don’t need the laundry list. I, uh, I guess we could meet up a little lat-“
“Dean.” Sam put every ounce of annoyed restraint into his voice. “You unceremoniously dump me at the grocery store two hours down the road, turn off your phone, and when I finally track you down, you expect me to wait longer? I’ve put the groceries in the trunk-“
“You didn’t scratch Baby, did you?”
Of course Dean was worried about the car. Why would he worry about Sam? After dumping him, Dean’d driven away without giving Sam a second thought. Honestly, it had been sheer luck that he’d even found the Impala. He’d popped the trunk and deposited the groceries, then stormed into the only open shop (a fucking optometrist. Why the fuck Dean needed to go there?), and had sat in the fucking beige waiting room until Dean had emerged. He’d had enough, and used the full force of bitchface 19 until Dean’s shoulders sagged.
“Okay, okay, I’ll just-“
It was enough.
Instead of leaving though, Dean turned and walked towards the young woman who'd just entered the room.
"Thanks so much, sweetheart. Is there anything else I need to do?"
Oh God. That tone of voice. Dean was up to something, but right at that moment, Sam just didn't care what it was. He'd get it out of his brother later. For now, he stormed over to Dean and gripped his arm, before smiling at the other woman.
“Thanks again for your help, Darlene. We’ll just be on our way.”
Sam hustled his brother out of the shop, ignoring the commotion behind them. He just wanted to get back to the demon texts. Preferably with one of Dean’s beers. Hopefully whatever Dean was up to wasn't going to disrupt their lives.
“Didn’t you take pain killers yesterday?”
Dean blinked myopically at his brother who had the most irritating timing ever.
“Yeah.” Dean kept silent for as long as he could, but Sam had perfected the tell me everything you know, now stare, and coupled with the I’m not leaving until I am satisfied aura, Dean knew he was going to break. “I’ve just got headaches, and-“
“Maybe you should go to a doctor.”
Closing his eyes, Dean took a deep breath, wondering how his brother could be so smart, and yet so incredibly stupid. Not that Dean minded on this occasion. The doctor? He could deal with that. Sure, the home clinic was generally just as effective, if a helluva lot more painful, but you went to the doctor with a specific problem, they gave you pills, the problem was fixed.
Glasses though… Glasses were a forever thing. The optometrist had been professionally disinterested, telling him eyes naturally deteriorated as people aged but in Dean’s case he’s probably needed them for at least a decade. Fucked up as that was, it made a lot of sense.
But now? Now that he knew he needed glasses, his headaches seemed worse, and everything seemed more blurry. He just needed to get back there, get them and figure out why he was so embarrassed! Sam wouldn’t care. Would he?
“Actually, Sam. That’s a good idea. I’ll pop into town now. Could take a while, and I don’t want you getting bored again. Just text me if you need anything, okay?”
“Right. You’ve got this. This is cool.”
As far as pep talks went, it sucked. But it wasn’t like Dean was about to walk into the jaws of a dragon. Although that might be preferable…
The discordant jangle of bells announced his arrival, and the two assistants looked up. Twin smiles were directed towards him and the one with the orange glasses stood up.
“Mr. Moreton! We’re so glad you’re back!”
“You left so suddenly last week,” Purple Glasses replied.
“Ah, yeah. Sorry about that. My brother gets a little-“
“Brother!” both women breathed, eyes lighting up in a way that Dean recognised only too well.
“Uhhh…” Shit. He was only here to get some fucking glasses! “Uh, yeah. Say, what do I need to do? I know…I know I left a little suddenly, and-“
A door closed behind him, and he spun around, only to see Dr. Mornington, the optometrist. She looked at him blankly before something resembling recognition crossed her face.
“Oh. Mr. Morton. You left before choosing your frames.”
“Yeah, sorry about that… Look, is there any way we could, I dunno, speed up the process?”
She opened her mouth – probably to disagree, she seemed like that sort of person – but purple glasses rushed in.
“I couldn’t help but notice Mr. Moreton’s prescription when he left, and we have some trial pairs here that match that. If that’s okay with you, Dr. Morington?”
Pursing her lips, Dr. Mornington gave a nod. “You’ll still need to pay for them, Mr. Morton. And the girls can help you choose an actual pair for purchase as well.”
Dean nodded hurriedly, hoping that the glasses they had in stock weren’t too…well, weren’t too like the shop assistants.
Somewhat stunned, Dean made his way back to the bunker. Who would have thought that shopping for glasses would be so torturous? First of all the staff, Darlene and Jan, had made him try on so many pairs of glasses he lost count.
"I just want something plain-" Were the only words he could get in before the ladies took over.
"Oh no, Jan, that's emo."
"What? It's perfect."
"Please, he looks like he's one button-thru away from wearing a fedora."
"Oh god. Oh god you're right! How about these?"
"I like where you're going but that green makes his eyes look murky, not green-"
And it went on and on and on. It was a nightmare. Eventually though, the two had agreed on two frames that apparently made him look like sex on legs.
"Ladies," he interrupted them. "I’m already sex on legs. And you think one little piece of plastic is gonna change that?"
Twin smirks greeted his announcement.
"Just wait," Darlene informed him smugly.
After giving him his bill (and six hundred bucks? what the fuck? he wasn't buying unicorn blood), they finally handed him the spare pair. They looked remarkably like one of the pairs the girls had chosen for him. Nice, solid black frames. Perhaps easy to lose in the dark, but they also felt like they'd stay on his face.
"Okay, so just pop back in a week or so, and you're new glasses should be here! In the meantime-"
"Nice to see you," they chorused together.
Dean was sure his exiting smile was more of a grimace.
Checking his cell, he found a shopping list from Sam, and he couldn't help laughing. Six pounds of lettuce? What the fuck did he do with the stuff?
Still. It might be a good idea to have a wander and get used to his new... new... visual enhancement aids. Yeah. That definitely sounded much more kickass.
They really did make a difference, Dean decided. The world was brighter, sharper. He felt more confident, especially when he realised even more people than he thought were checking him out. His eyes may be going, but his ass still looked good. That happy thought kept him whistling until he pulled into the bunker garage.
Then he caught sight of his bespectacled self in the mirror and he wasn’t so sure anymore. Chewing on his bottom lip, he decided to wait. Sam didn’t need to know about his visual enhancement aids, and it wasn't like he couldn't live without them. Feeling more certain, he went via his room and dropped them on the nightstand. He wouldn't be needing them for a while anyway.
"Sam, go to bed."
Dean imbued his voice with all the big brotherliness he could. Because Sam was a fucking idiot who couldn't take care of himself.
After dinner, Dean had settled down on the couch to watch some quality television (it was his eighth favourite Dr Sexy episode, and he hadn't seen it in a while.) And then an anime he hadn't seen came on, so, after checking that Sam was busy, he hunkered down to watch that.
Hours later, on his way to get a coffee he passed the library. Where Sam was still hard at work with the demon texts. Blindly raising his head, his brother heaved a huge sigh before leaning back down to the book. A slight pang, either indigestion or guilt, made itself known. Rubbing his belly he tried to figure out which was more likely.
Heaving a tired sigh, Sam put the book down and blinked at Dean. The feeling in his gut intensified. Dammit. It was guilt.
"Did you need something, Dean?"
Tracking the way Sammy's hand rubbed at his temple, Dean came to a decision. Which brought them to this point.
"Sam, go to bed."
Huffing a laugh, Sam leant back and stretched, wincing as a loud crack reverberated through the room.
"Bed? Dean, I can't. I still don't know how to track the demon. I'm not even sure which one it is. So maybe if I get lucky I'll head to bed, but in the meantime-"
"Sammy, get your ass to bed. I'm still bright and raring to go."
The incredulous look was completely justified, but Dean easily shrugged it off.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know what happened last time, but I am telling you, Sammy, I'll look through the fuckin' books, and try to find your demon charm."
Uncertainty wavered across Sam's face, highlighting the heavy shadows beneath his eyes. Walking forward, Dean wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulder.
"Sam, go to bed. Even if I get jack shit done, you're exhausted. I'm gonna get a sweater, because how the fuck do you actually work in this icebox, and then I'll get to work. Okay?"
Huffing a laugh, Sam finally agreed.
"Ok… But only because I'd probably miss the important things, the way I'm feeling."
With Sam finally out of the way, Dean headed to his room. He grabbed his glasses, and only at the last minute remembered the sweater. He hadn't been lying, the library was a fucking ice box!
Returning, he was pleased to see Sam had gone. Filling up his coffee he took a hasty gulp before moving to the table. The pile of books Sam had searched through was much smaller than the ones left to go.
Opening up the first book, he blinked as the letters and symbols blurred into each other. Then, taking a deep breath, he perched his glasses on his nose, heaving a sigh of relief as the page sharpened into focus. He might not want these visual enhancers, but they were about to make his life a lot easier.
The next time Sam opened his eyes, he didn’t exactly feel rested, but he felt human again. Glancing at his clock, the red glowing numbers told him he’d slept five hours. Nodding to himself, Sam felt pleased. And perhaps even a little more alert. He could work with five.
Now to see if Dean had actually kept his word.
This side of the day though, it wasn't such a big deal. Sleep had given Sam some perspective: even if Dean had shot through, the world wasn’t about to end. It just meant he had a few hours to catch up on, and now that he actually had some brain function back, it wouldn’t take too long until-
Rounding the corner, Sam came across a scene which removed every bit of brain function he had. All of it.
Because sitting at the table was Dean, surrounded by the evidence of his hard work. Books piled up on either side, a page of scribbled notes in front of him. The empty coffee cup stood precariously close to the edge, and if Dean doing research wasn't sexy enough...
Shapely forearms were revealed below the pushed up sleeves of the moss green sweater. The colour suited him, not only that, the sweater hugged his body in ways that his usual flannel uniform hid. His eyes slid up (because god! he'd had to look away, get some control of himself), he came to Dean's hair. It stood up every which way, like he'd been running his hands through it. It was a good look. Sam needed to run his hands through it now. It looked long enough for Sam to grip and pull and that could only be a good thing.
What took Sam's breath away though? Upon Dean's gorgeous nose, highlighting his softly freckled face were a pair of thick rimmed black glasses. Dean’s face was angled down, and Sam could see the way his lashes brushed against the glass. He'd never seen Dean looking so sexy.
He must have made some sort of sound, because Dean looked up. When he saw his brother, a big smile formed on his face.
“Sammy! I think I found-”
But Sam didn’t want to hear. The demon could wait. All Sam could think about was fucking his brother while he wore those glasses.
Telegraphing his every move, Sam slid over to his brother. Turning Dean's chair, Sam fell to his knees.Without his permission, his hands came up to rest on Dean's thighs, sliding higher and higher until Dean squeaked.
"Sam! Sam, what are you-"
"I want to slide your jeans down these delightfully bowed legs, bite my way up your thighs, and I want to lick at your sweet hole and swallow down your cock until you come down my throat. And I want to do it all while you're wearing those glasses."
Dean's face, which had become redder and redder, suddenly paled. He reached towards his face, but before Dean could snatch his glasses off, Sam grabbed his wrists and lowered Dean's palms to his thigh.
"I don't think you understand how unbelievably sexy you look. My smart," Sam kissed beside Dean's ear, just below the arm of the glasses, "clever," the kisses now trailed along Dean's jaw line, following a particularly distracting trail of freckles, "amazing, sexy Dean."
By the time Sam landed a kiss at the base of Dean's throat his breath was coming in sharp huffs. While Dean was dazed, Sam unzipped his fly and managed to get Dean's jeans down to his ankles. For some reason this reactivated Dean's mouth.
"The fuck, Sammy? We have to find this demon-"
"That can wait. It's much more important that I get you naked."
Glaring at him, Dean attempted to pull down his sweater.
"You're not naked."
It was a poor argument, as ten seconds later Sam was very naked.
"Now I am."
It was easy to forget how single minded Sam could be. While Dean gawped at his brother's body - because it wasn't often he had a naked Sam just posing in front of him - Sam somehow managed to remove the rest of Dean's clothes.
“That’s much better,” Sam informed him after he’d been rearranged just the way Sam liked. Apparently that meant naked with a leg over each arm of the chair. Closing his eyes Dean looked away: Sammy’s expression was just too intense.
“Eyes open, Dean.”
And when had Dean ever been able to deny his brother. His eyes snapped open and Sam smiled as he settled himself between Dean’s obscenely spread legs. Licking his lips, Sam stared down at Dean’s exposed body, and Dean couldn’t stop his cock jumping a little at the lust in his eyes.
“Mmmmmm. I knew you’d like this. So. Here’s the rules. I am going to go to town on your gorgeous little ass and then I am going to suck your cock til you come down my throat. You, keep your hands here,” Sam reached over and placed Dean’s hands beside his legs, curling his own bigger hands around Dean’s so they gripped the chair arms.
Sam waited a moment to make sure Dean would obey, only then shifted his weight down, until his face height with Dean’s junk. Dean watched wide-eyed as Sam's hands moved to his knees before ghosting up Dean's thighs.
"Don't take your eyes off me, Dean," Sam murmured, even as his eyes never wavered from Dean's fluttering hole.
He paused thoughtfully, before looking back up Dean’s body.
“Oh, and Dean? The glasses stay.”
Somehow Dean managed to garble his agreement, because then big hands were pressed into the flesh of his thigh and Sam's was nuzzling just under his balls.
Of course Sam ignored him, instead dropping his head lower and firmly licking the length of Dean's crack. His tongue dragged across Dean's hole and didn't stop until his nose pressed up against Dean's balls.
He did it again, this time pausing at Dean's hole, letting his tongue play a little before swiping upwards. After that? Playtime was over, and Sam's tongue poked and prodded until he breached Dean's hole. A full body shudder worked it's way through Dean, and it was through sheer luck that he kept his hands where Sam had placed them.
Giving himself over to the feel of Sam's tongue, Dean moaned, and let his head drop back. Just as he was starting to get over his embarrassment and push back against the intrusion, Sam stopped.
What the hell? Dean’s eyes came open and he sat forward glaring down his body. Sam though, looked just as unimpressed. Dean couldn’t remember the last time his brother’s expression had been so clear. Damn, these glasses were something.
Apparently Sam didn’t appreciate Dean’s wandering thoughts. Punctuating his movement’s with a low growl, Sam moved his mouth to the fleshy part of Dean’s thigh, where the son of a fucking bitch bit him!
If Sam hadn’t been so much stronger than him (and oh god, Sam was so much stronger than him!) Dean would have been off that chair and out the door. But Sam was strong. So Dean stayed put.
After determining that the bruise met his exacting standard, Sam looked up him.
“I told you, Dean. Keep your eyes on me.”
Dean had a front row view to Sam staring hungrily at his cock before he swallowed it down.
Just the sight of his cock disappearing between Sam’s lips was enough to push him over edge. It would have been, except Sam let go of one thigh to pull sharply on Dean’s balls. The pop as Sam pulled off Dean’s cock was masked by Dean’s yelp of pain.
“Not yet, Dean. I want to take my time.”
But then Sam made a tactical error: he ran one slow finger along the length of Dean’s cock. And to Dean’s eternal shame, it was enough to push him over the edge. With a muffled curse, his cock pulsed defiantly, Dean watched in open mouthed fascination as stripes of white covered his brother’s face.
Sam was a clever boy, quickly closing his eyes, but the teasing hand now gripped Dean firmly, directing him over Sam’s open mouth. Fuck that was hot!
Sam held him until he’d gone soft. And even then he didn’t let go. He wiped the come from his closed eyes, but when he opened them, drops of white still clung to his lashes. That should not have been as hot as it was.
Open mouthed, Dean watched as Sam’s clever tongue swiped across his lips, leaving them shiny and clean.
It was Sam who broke the silence. Which wasn’t entirely unexpected, given Dean had no idea what to say.
“Time to swap.”
Somehow Dean found himself on his knees between Sam’s thighs - although Sam’s feet were firmly planted on the ground.
“Turnabout is fair play, right Dean?”
And it was. Sighing, Dean went to grab his glasses, but Sam’s hand stilled him.
“Oh no, Dean. Definitely not.” Sam’s smile grew, as he took himself in hand. “The glasses stay.”