Notes: I described this as crack!fic, but it's more like LSD-laced-with-Peyote-spiked-with-PCP!fic, tbh. I have no excuse for this. Also, I'm probably going to be the only person in the world who actually finds this funny, since I wrote it, but it had to be done. If you do happen to enjoy it, thank you for putting up with my ridiculousness.
Warnings: Spoilers for 4.19.
Sam sat across from Adam in his kitchen and assumed his most earnest heart-to-heart pow-wow face. "All right, now that you're going to be hunting with us, you have to make a few changes. No girlfriends, no friends, no connections, period. Family is everything," Sam said.
"Uh, Sam?" Dean interjected from the dark, broody corner he was currently glowering in. "May I please confer with you in the other room?"
Sam clenched his jaw and tossed his hair theatrically before sashaying into the other room to meet with his older brother.
"What, Dean?"
"What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm showing the kid the ropes."
"Sam, you can't."
"He said that he wanted to hunt. To get," *dramatic pause*, "revenge!"
"But he can't be a Winchester. As if."
Poor, put-upon Sam. He sighed a sigh that would turn Scarlett O'Hara green with envy and reminded Dean, "We've been over this. Everything checked out, remember? The photos, his memories -"
"No, no. I didn't mean that. I meant that he can't be one of us."
"And, pray tell, why is that?" Sam asked impatiently.
"I'm sorry. He does not fulfill the mandatory pretty quotient."
Sam stared in disbelief. "... oh my God, that is ridiculous, Dean."
"Is it? IS. IT. REALLY? Look at me," Dean said, tilting his head to allow the meager light to catch and highlight his cheekbones and jaw line, having perfected this angle through countless hours spent practicing in motel bathrooms and the Impala's rearview mirror. "Do you see these eyes? Greener than Spring's first bud after a long, harsh winter. Like forbidden emeralds set on fire with the light of a thousand Babylonian suns. Or these lips? Fuller and more luscious than Aphrodite's heaving bosom. And these lashes, so lush and long, it's as if they're reaching for the peak of Mount Olympus!" Dean gesticulated passionately.
"What the - "
"Or what about you? Your long, cascading Pantene Pro-V chestnut locks that beg to be touched, or those dimples, sprinkled with ambrosia dust and carved by Hephaestus himself!"
"Wow. You really weren't kidding about reading the Odyssey, were you," Sam noted astutely.
"Oh yeah, I got back into it after that whole siren shebang. TBS was playing a Xena: Warrior Princess marathon earlier, too. Man, have you watched that show? You gotta hear her war cry. I wonder what else that tongue can - "
"Dean! Back to the subject, please?" Sam, ever the pragmatist, cut in; no time to speculate on the cunnilingus skills of fictional Greek warrioresses with a family crisis at hand.
"Oh, right. Sorry. Anyways, like I was saying, this kid can't be our brother. We are totes pretty and he looks like Larry the Cable Guy's fan club prez or something. It defies the laws of nature, not unlike cold fusion."
Sam took the obligatory moment to be shocked by Dean's awareness of something that couldn't be learned in an issue of Maxim, then declared, "Whatever, Dean. I happen to think he's hot."
"Uhm, excuse you?" Dean gaped at Sam, but Sam had already returned their waiting brother. Dean fretfully pondered this revelation of Sam's bad taste, but then remembered that Sam had done the nasty with Ruby, whom Dean placed two steps below "Michael Jackson with tit implants" on his list of least bangable chicks ever, so he wasn't actually too surprised.
"So anyways, where was I? Oh, right. Family is everything from now on. And I mean... everything. Let me show you exactly what it means to be a Winchester," Sam said to Adam. And with that, he began unbuttoning and removing his shirt.
"Heavens to Betsy!" Dean started at once. "What is it you think you're doing, Samuel?"
"I'm showing him our tattoos, Dean. He's going to need the protection when he starts hunting with us. Ah-durrrrr." Sam thumped a limp wrist across his chest to demonstrate exactly how much of a retard Dean was being.
"Oh. I thought, uh, never mind," Dean relaxed visibly and sank back in his seat to assume his patented sulk-brood-glower visage.
Sam finished removing his shirt and stood for a moment while a spot light shined down on him from out of nowhere and harp music played gently in the background.
"Okay, see? First order of business is to get one of these bad boys," he pointed at his tattoo, making sure to flex his biceps as much as possible. "This wards off possession, so unless you want your body to get Shanghai-ed by psycho lesbian demons and used to rape cute bartenders, I suggest you get one."
"Hey, isn't that a porn flick? I think I've seen it," Adam said.
"No, it's OUR LIVES, you fool!" Dean bellowed, but made a mental note to look that up online later, just in case.
"Okay, so that's covered," Sam said, tossing his shirt to the side. "Now for the next step." And he started unbuttoning his pants.
"Uh... is there another tattoo you'd like to show me, as well?" Adam queried anxiously.
"Not unless it's on my penis," Sam answered with a saucy wink.
"WHAT?!" Dean and Adam both yelped.
"Look, kid. You said you wanted to be a hunter, right? I said you have to rely on family for everything. And I meant... eeeeverything. This is the Winchester way," and he pushed his pants down and presented his erection with a Vanna White-like flourish of the hand. "Ta-daaa!"
"SAM! Conference, please. NOW." Dean angrily rose from his chair.
Sam bitchfaced and huffed his patented Sammy-huff, but waddled over to Dean with a raging boner anyway.
"What do you think you're doing? Adam can't have any part in this."
"He said that's what he wanted, Dean. We should let him," Sam countered.
"No, we can't. This is exactly what Dad wanted to protect him from. We can't let him do this!" Dean insisted.
"Uh, do I get a say in this?" Adam asked meekly from the other room.
"NO!" Sam and Dean shouted in unison. Adam then hung his head and resigned himself to having the fate of his sex life determined by two emotionally and psychologically unbalanced men in plumber's boots and ripped jeans.
"What's the problem, Dean? Are you jealous?" Sam asked.
Dean scoffed bitterly, but his woobly bottom lip betrayed his feelings, as usual. Dean cursed his plush mouth and turned his back on Sam.
Sam stomped back over to Adam and shoved his boxers down all of the way, releasing his boner. "Okie dokie, let's get started!" He placed his mighty paw on the back of Adam's head and said, "Open up, baby bird."
Adam willingly complied, and before long, he was playing Sam's rusty trombone quite satisfactorily. "That's right, Adam. Just feel the recoil and time the trigger pulls. There ya go."
Sam looked over at Dean beseechingly. "C'mon Dean, please join. I know how important this family is to you."
Never one to deny his Sammy, Dean reluctantly dragged his feet over to his two younger brothers. "Ugh, fine." And he pressed up behind Adam.
"Whoa! Is that a gun?" Adam asked with his mouth full, clearly having never read an Emily Post publication on incestuous oral sex decorum.
"Naw, I'm just real happy to see you," Dean said. He then tore open Adam's and his own jeans like the box around his favorite peach cobbler and produced four tubes of lube from his pocket. "Okay, which scent would you like? I have grape, apple, cherry and kiwi. You seem like a kiwi type of guy."
"You.. carry tubes of lube around?"
"The first rule of hunting is always be prepared," Dean intoned sagely.
"The 115th is that water-based lubricants work best with condoms," Sam added.
He lubed himself and up next thing you know, he was boning his little brother for the first time. Hm, that is getting to be a regular occurrence, Dean thought with mild concern. He really hoped that there were no more long-lost family members to be found because he was already having enough trouble keeping track of Sammy's lube scent preferences as it was.
Eventually, they were both lustily humping into Adam, looking very much like those animatronic figures sawing lumber in the "It's A Small World" attraction at Disneyland. Sam started moaning, "Oh yeah, you cock slut. Baby, you beg so pretty. You're such a slut for my cock, aren't you?"
"Um, could you... stop that, dude? You're killing my wood. And why would you insult me while I'm ever so generously performing sexual acts on you?" Adam asked. "Rude." Hm. Perhaps Adam knew a thing or two about sexual etiquette, after all.
"Oh, sorry," Sam responded, appropriately chastised.
They continued on like that for a while longer, when all of a sudden Sam shouted, "OWWW!'
"What's wrong?" Dean asked in between brotherly thrusts.
"Dude, he just bit my dick!"
Dean thought to himself that one benefit to hooking up with a hillbilly should be that there are way less teeth to contend with during blow jobs, so this was quite an unfortunate predicament.
"Watch the teeth, bro. Ugh, I think I'm bleeding," Sam lamented.
Adam just continued Hoover-ing Sam's disco stick greedily. Whoa, this kid is pretty kinky, Dean thought to himself. Hmm, perhaps he is a Winchester, after all.
"AAAAH. He's biting more," Sam yelled, alarmed now. "OMG, OMG! He's a GHOUL!" he cried, clouds parting in his mind like a senior's legs on prom night.
Dean understood everything at once, freezing up in shock and dismay.
"MUA-HA-HAAAAAAA," Ghoul-Adam cried, releasing Sam's wang and wrapping a tight fist around it. "I am indeed a ghoul. Make one false move and I'm going to bite your nuts off and you'll die. It's true; I read that shit online," it warned.
"Hey, asshole," Dean said, slinging his arm around the ghoul's neck, "Actually? ... IT WAS A GUN IN MY POCKET!" And with that, he pulled out his sawed-off and blew the ghoul's head clear off.
When the smoke cleared, Dean realized that his dong was still buried deep inside the ghoul's bum. "Oops! Um... awkwardddd," Dean said as he pulled out with a wet pop. Sam crinkled his nose in distaste at the sodomy faux pas.
They stood there in stunned silence, both completely naked; Sam with an injured, bloody cock, a headless dead ghoul body lying between them and the smell of melon lube permeating the air of what was probably their estranged half-brother's kitchen. Sadly, it wasn't even the most fucked-up sex they'd ever had, but it was definitely weirder than the time Sam wanted to role play Harry and Hermione and cast transmogrification spells with their dicks.
Dean realized something suddenly. "Holy shit! Do you think that just counted as necro? That was the one line I promised myself I'd never cross," Dean bemoaned woefully, facepalming with gusto. "No, really, the one and only line. Meaning I'm pretty much up for anything else, Sammy," he added, peeking at Sam through his fingers.
"Dean, that must mean that Adam is already dead," Sam surmised, mentally filing away Dean's newest disclosure for later use.
"Well, Sam, that is terribly sad and tragic," Dean said forlornly.
"Indeed it is. Also, we both still have boners, and mine is bleeding."
"Shall we comfort each other carnally before we set off to solve the mystery of our missing/possibly dead brother?"
"I think that would be the best course of action," Sam agreed.
And so Dean took Sam into his arms and they spent the next hour depleting the tubes of grape and cherry lube left. When they finished, Dean bandaged Sam's injured cock with one of those pink Hello Kitty band-aids he had left over from getting hit by a mini-van the week before and Sam kissed him romantically on the cheek. They hopped into the Impala and rode off into the brilliant sunset together.
:::
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Epilogue:
Later, Dean would discover that Ghoul-Adam was at least telling the truth about one thing: that plot was indeed a movie and it was titled The Sexorcist. Tag line: "The (golden) shower of Christ cum-pels you!" One night soon thereafter, after successfully convincing Sam to role play Xena and Gabrielle (in a bid to further demonstrate his impressive knowledge of Greek mythology), Dean ordered the movie on Spice channel and settled underneath the covers with Sam to watch it and gear up for round two, after which they contentedly fell asleep in each other's arms, filled with love and cotton candy scented lube.
~ end.