She’s pretty. A little older than Sam, chestnut hair pulled into a loose ponytail, blue eyes looking hesitantly in his brother’s direction, and then darting away again like a startled animal.
It’s a pity Sam’s taken, but she doesn’t seem confident enough to come over and make a try for him anyway. Besides, they’re here on business not pleasure, and so he doesn’t really bother Sam with pointing out his admirer when his brother brings back a couple of beers and sets one down in front of each of them.
“So, get this,” he says, keeping his voice low because a couple of the nearby tables (including the woman’s) are occupied and close enough for big ears to listen in. “The lady behind the bar says that some guy who used to work here had a habit of going around and peering in women’s bedroom windows.”
Dean screws up his nose; why some guys have got to be dicks, he doesn’t get. “And?”
Sam sighs. “And he turned up about a month ago with both his eyes put out. Survived, don’t know how, but he’s in permanent care just now.”
That sounds like more their kind of thing, and fits in with the brutal incidents that have drawn them to the town.
Somebody obviously took the whole ‘if thine eye offends thee’ shit literally.
“Just like the drunk driver who’s not gonna walk again because…”
“His own car started up and rammed him into the garage door as he was staggering inside. Even though he had the keys in his pocket.”
And that guy had clipped an old man out walking his dog only days before, but got off since he’d downed a few gallons of coffee before the police could catch up to him.
Yeah, this town had its own little avenger; while Dean might understand their motivation, it wasn’t safe to let somebody like that just mete out their own version of punishment.
What happened if they lowered the bar and decided people dumping litter should end up buried in the local dump?
He notices Sam shifting uncomfortably in his seat, and looks over to see his brother’s noticed the unwanted attention.
“You forget how to flirt, Sammy?” Dean teases.
Sam glares at him. “Yeah, it’s been a while. My current partner’s always so damn eager for it I don’t have to talk them into bed.”
Dean grins. And then he leans in a little closer, and says, “Tell you what though, Sam, if you’re planning on the back seat, you’ll need to shove the front one forward.”
The woman gives a tiny hurt huff and gets up, pushing her chair back and storming to the door.
Sam stares after her, mouth open, and then looks furiously back at his brother. “Not cool. Dean, what the fuck?”
Dean’s cheeks colour. He hadn’t thought she’d hear, and yeah, that was a shitty thing to say. He knew better, he usually was better, but maybe it was hard to not be a dick when somebody was making eyes at his brother.
He drains his beer, and there wasn’t much said between them after that.
Until, when they decide to head back to the motel, Dean stands up and the top button of his jeans just pops off like it came out of a gun.
Sam’s fast, and catches it before it can ricochet around the bar and gives Dean a look.
Dean shrugs, feeling his face heat up again. “Uh...shrunk in the wash. What happens when you let your brother do the laundry.”
“Okay,” Sam says, but he looks at Dean a little weird and then leads them out to the car.
When Dean gets in, the seat does get moved, but backwards, because the steering wheel should not be touching his stomach.
After another day, they’re no closer to finding out the identify of the small town Judge Dredd but Dean’s made other unpleasant discoveries.
Like the fact that his waist size has gone up two inches overnight.
He always knew his diet of beer and burgers would come back to haunt him in later years, but later as in sixty and not while he got his usual four hours.
“Okay,” Sam says, watching Dean trying to hold up his jeans with one hand, and tug his t shirt down over his stomach with the other (he feels like he’s literally put on six pounds while standing there as Sam puts his big brain to work). “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you’ve been cursed.”
“Oh, you think?”
It’s kind of a blessing in disguise, Sam thinks, though he’s not going to say that around Dean. They’ve been in town a little under two days, not enough time to piss off a multitude of people, and in fact…
There’s only one person Sam’s sure Dean’s offended, and since it happened right before his mystery weight gain, it doesn’t take a mammoth IQ to figure out who they’re after.
By the time they find the woman’s address, though, she’s gone, apartment cleaned out.
Clearly she expected them to come for her, and she’s left a note for them.
Maybe your brother will be a little more sensitive going forward. Don’t worry, it’ll stop before long.
It, Sam takes to be Dean’s weight. He’s now big enough that Sam had to drive, and Dean wheezed his way up the stairs and leaned panting against the wall as Sam knelt down to pick the woman’s front door.
“Great,” Dean snaps. “How the hell are we going to fix this?”
Sam wishes he knew. At least this town won’t suffer any more Buffy-esque brutal comeuppances, but that doesn’t help Dean, or wherever else the woman fetches up.
Lucky for them, though, they have a witch on call.
Rowena doesn’t make much effort to hide her amusement at Dean’s predicament.
“I always knew your mouth would get you into trouble, one day,” she says.
Dean’s distracted briefly from squirming; he’s down to the biggest pair of sweatpants Sam owns, and even that waistband has slipped to ride just under Dean’s belly. He’s covering his...okay, Sam has to say it, breasts, his brother now has man boobs, as Rowena does a slow circuit to study him.
“Okay, I didn’t deserve this.”
Rowena cocks an eyebrow at him. “I gather from Samuel you were being rather judgemental. A gentleman, Dean, would never cast a comment on a lady’s age, hair colour, or figure.”
Dean waves her off, having already got the lesson; now all he wants is to get his own figure back.
“Well,”. Rowena says. “You’ll be glad to know it’s stopped, anyway.”
Dean looks down at himself. “I can’t see my own feet. How has it stopped?”
“You’re not getting any larger,” Rowena says, slowly, as if Dean’s IQ has gone the opposite direction from his BMI.
She shrugs at him. “I hear slimfast works wonders.”
Sam shows Rowena out before Dean’s mouth can just add to his woes by pissing off another witch.
It’s not all bad, Sam thinks.
He has a diet and exercise plan for Dean, a progress chart with checkpoints to give Dean something to aim for (being able to look down and see his penis is an added incentive, like being able to drive Baby again) and so Sam knows they can fix this.
In the meantime, though…
When he grabs Dean, pulls him in close, it’s not hard lines and taut muscles.
He can actually grab now, get a handhold, and he kinda likes it.
He doesn’t just get to suck at Dean’s nipples now; there’s a whole mound of flesh there he can get his mouth around, making Dean moan beneath him.
Dean’s soft and pudgy, something Sam never expected to ever experience, and he loves it.
Knows it’s temporary, but that just makes him want to get as much out of it as he can, as they can (because he knows when his brother’s turned on, and he’s happily showing Dean that he loves him whatever shape he’s in).
Sitting astride Dean, riding him as he braces his hands on his brother’s bulge, just…. Sam can’t explain why it does it for him, but it’s fucking amazing.
Just like when Dean grabs Sam’s wrists, flips them with a snarl, and pins Sam beneath him as he thrusts into him hard.
And sometimes he just lies there, pressing Sam into the bed with his weight, holding him helpless while Sam struggles and pants as Dean slowly crushes him.
It takes Dean the better part of twelve months in all, but he gets back to himself, no ill effects, and he’s very careful from then on in with his words.