Prompt: Dean and Sam end up messing up their lesson by fucking each other in Dean's office instead of going after the ghost. Zachariah is pissed and ends up barging in while their pants are still down, ranting about how Winchesters ruin everything and snaps their memories back. The most awkward post-coital conversation ever ensues.
A/N: So, no one will ever accuse me of being the best writer in the world, but hopefully this isn't too bad. There is going to be a Chapter 2, which is already in the works and should be posted soon. This is one of my first attempts at writing anything with an actual sex scene in it, and since I already tend to be hard on myself, I'm sort of freaking out about this work. I really hope it's not too terrible. Apologies if it is. Love y'all, and hope you like this!
"Um, excuse me? Mr. Smith? Y-you said you wanted to see me?"
Sam silently cursed at himself for the little stutter in the middle, but it really wasn't like he could be blamed. In fact, if there was a single person in the world who could stand in front of the so-hot-it-should-probably-be-illegal Director of Marketing and Sales without tripping all over themselves, Sam would be surprised. He certainly hadn't met one yet.
"Mr. Wesson. Yes. Come on in," Dean waved the tall tech support man in without even looking away from the computer screen where he was busy typing something. "Shut the door behind you."
Sam obediently stepped into the office and closed the door. He clutched at the computer bag hanging over his shoulder like it was a safety blanket, ducking his head just slightly so that his hair fell over his eyes. His version of "hiding", the way he tended to do when he was nervous.
Dean tapped away on his computer for another moment or two, then finally looked up at the fidgety young man standing in front of his desk. He had to smother a laugh that wanted to escape at the sight of how nervous the tech support kid looked.
"Sit, please," Dean waved to the chairs, standing at the same time as Sam sat, which only served to stress him out even more.
He set the computer bag down at his feet and tried not to let his eyes dart nervously around the room as Dean walked over to the door and flipped the lock. Sam couldn't help the startled jump he gave when Dean suddenly appeared right behind him, though. The man could be dead silent when he wanted to be and clearly right now was one of those times when he'd wanted to be.
"Mr. Smith?" Sam asked.
"Coast is clear, Sam," Dean leaned down to nibble at Sam's ear, combing his hand through his long hair at the same time. "You can relax now."
"Oh thank god," Sam let his head fall back with a pleased moan. He loved the feeling of Dean's lips and teeth on him. The feel of his hands in his hair. As much as he didn't want to, he had to stop him though. "Dean. Wait. It's the middle of the day. Not really the time for this."
"Yeah, but that's the reason they invented door locks and window blinds," Dean reminded him, moving to nibble lightly at Sam's neck. Not hard enough to leave marks, but more than enough to drive him crazy.
Dean had met Sam just a few weeks ago. Right here in this very office, actually. Sam had just started at the company and had filled out a form incorrectly. Nothing serious, but it'd needed to be fixed before Dean could complete his report, so he'd called him upstairs. To say he'd been surprised when the tall, built, gorgeous man had appeared in his door would be an understatement. It was like an instant connection. Like they'd known each other in a past life or something. They just clicked instantly. Despite not being the type to jump headlong into anything, he'd wound up inviting Sam over to his apartment for dinner that night and ever since then they'd barely been able to keep their hands off of each other. They really, honestly tried while they were at work, but Dean was still calling Sam up to his office at least every other day to "fix" something. This was the first time he'd been bold enough (or horny enough) to call him up right in the middle of the day, though. Usually, if he was going to call Sam, it was when everyone was out on their lunch breaks or later in the day when a good portion of the other employees had already gone home.
"Besides," Dean continued, pulling Sam up and then shoving him back against the desk. "I don't exactly hear you complaining."
Sam mumbled out something that Dean didn't pay attention to. Seriously, the kid would talk constantly if given half a chance. So he didn't give him a chance. Instead, he pulled Sam down into a rough kiss, lowering him until he was lying mostly across the desk, propped up on his elbows.
Just when he was sure that he'd driven Sam completely insane, Dean pulled away with a grin. He looked down into huge, lust-blown hazel eyes as he carefully unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged out of it. Dean had learned the hard way that Sam got even more uncoordinated, not to mention impatient, when he was this turned on. He was still finding buttons all over his office from the time Sam had simply ripped his shirt after he'd gotten frustrated with his inability to get his fingers to cooperate and unbutton it.
Sam watched Dean greedily, still lying back on the desk, and lunged up to kiss him as soon as Dean moved close enough. They separated just long enough for Dean to slide his hands under Sam's hideous yellow polo shirt and pull it up and over his head, then their hands were all over each other again. Sam reached forward and wrapped his huge hands around Dean's hips and pulled him in even closer while Dean twined one hand in his hair and fumbled with Sam's belt with the other.
As soon as Dean had Sam's belt loosened he reached for the small bottle of lube they kept in a pocket of Sam's computer bag while Sam turned over and dropped his feet to the floor so that he was leaning over the desk. He'd managed to swing his legs over to the other side of the desk so that they'd be facing the door. For some reason that they both laughed off as paranoia, neither of them were comfortable having their back to a door for too long.
"God, the things you do to me," Dean prowled up behind Sam and trailed his fingers along the waistband of Sam's khakis.
"Dean…" Sam whined and tilted his hips back a little further. He didn't even care how needy he sounded right at that moment.
"Easy, baby boy. I've got you," Dean grinned, finally sweeping Sam's pants and boxers down in one swift movement.
He quickly uncapped the bottle of lube, coated his fingers, and pushed two into Sam. The slight burn turned almost immediately to pleasure and Sam rocked back on Dean's hand, trying to speed him up. Dean laughed and slapped his ass playfully before reaching around to close his free hand around Sam's cock, pulling a choked moan from the younger man.
"G-god," Sam was caught between wanting to push forward into Dean's hand or back to get his fingers deeper. He clutched at the edge of the desk and arched his back, doing his best to do both at once.
Dean only waited a few more seconds before adding a third finger, finally crooking them to rub against Sam's prostate. He had to bite his lip to keep back a moan of his own as Sam whimpered and clenched around his fingers.
"Dean. It's enough. Please," Sam begged. He felt ready to fly apart from sheer pleasure, but he didn't want to come yet. "Need you inside me. Please. Come on."
"Alright," Dean was at his limit, too. Watching Sam fall apart and hearing him beg was a sure-fire way to drive him just as crazy.
He gently pulled back, shushing Sam's whine of displeasure at being empty, and pushed his slacks and boxers down just far enough to get himself free. Grabbing the lube again, Dean slicked his cock and teased the head across Sam's hole. He didn't have enough patience for much teasing at this point either, though, and slowly pushed in until he was flush against Sam.
"Tell me when," Dean clutched at Sam's hips tight enough that he knew there would be finger-shaped bruises left behind. Bruises that he would admire and want to lick when they got back to his apartment tonight and he could take his time doing every sinful thing he could possibly think of to Sam.
"Move," Sam gasped a moment later, pushing back like he could get him even deeper. He let his head drop forward as Dean pulled almost completely out and then slammed back into him, already getting into a steady rhythm.
"Fuck, you're so hot like this Sammy," Dean pulled Sam's hips back as he pushed forward, changing the angle just slightly so that he knew he would hit Sam's prostate with every thrust. "Spread out over my desk. You drive me so crazy, baby boy. Can't get enough of you."
Dean kept murmuring a litany of dirty talk, mixed with endearments into Sam's ear. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his lips hard to keep quiet as Dean's thrusts started to speed up and lose a bit of coordination. They were both close. Just another few seconds and…
"Oh for the love of...Enough!" the door to Dean's office burst open – despite the fact that he knew for a fact that he'd locked it – and his supervisor, Mr. Adler, stormed in.
They were so screwed. Literally and figuratively. There was absolutely nothing to say or do to explain this away. The old "it's not what it looks like" line definitely wasn't going to work in this situation, seeing as there was no way to mistake exactly what was going on. They were both frozen in place though, neither of them sure exactly what to do.
"Nearly three weeks I've put up with this!" Mr. Adler continued to rage. "I put you two mutton heads here to teach you a lesson, but you can't keep it in your pants long enough to even realize there is one, let alone learn it! I gave you the benefit of the doubt at first, thinking you'd come to your senses, but apparently I was too optimistic in thinking that either of you had the ability to use a bit of common sense!"
He snapped his fingers and suddenly Dean's entire world turned upside down as everything rushed back to him. His name was Dean Winchester. He was a hunter. He was searching for a way to stop the Apocalypse along with the man he considered his surrogate father, Bobby; his best friend who was an angel, Castiel; and his brother…oh god.
"Now if you two had bothered to pay attention to what's going on around you instead of fornicating over every available surface, you might've realized why I dropped you in the middle of an office building!" Zachariah yelled at them, ignoring the horrified looks on the boys' faces. "You were supposed to realize that there is a job in this building. A ghost, which you were supposed to research and destroy, proving that you two are meant to be exactly who you are. But you Winchesters ruin everything!"
With that, Zachariah disappeared with the sound of flapping wings, leaving Sam and Dean in exactly the same position as they'd been in the entire time. They stayed silent for a second before Sam squirmed uncomfortably.
"Um, Dean? Don't you think maybe this might be a good time to…uh?" Sam suggested.
"What? Oh! Jesus Christ," Dean pulled away from – out of, his mind unhelpfully corrected – his brother so quickly that they both flinched uncomfortably.
"We should maybe…probably talk about this," Sam said as they both started fumbling to pull their clothes back on.
"Talk about it?" Dean yelled as he snatched his shirt up off the floor. "Sam we just…I just…we…"
"Articulate," Sam muttered. "Look, I mean, it's not like we knew we were brothers."
"Right, because that makes it so much better!" Dean chanced a look at his brother and sighed in relief when he saw that they were both fully clothed again. "That definitely helped when Zach there zapped our memories back and we were right in the middle of…oh god I'm gonna be sick."
"I think we were closer to the end than the middle," came out before Sam could stop himself. He flinched at the glare that Dean levelled at him and quickly moved on. "I…I didn't say that not knowing made things better, necessarily. Just that it made it a little more understandable. I mean, come on. People have office flings all the time?"
The last part came out as more of a nervous question than a statement, given the fact that Dean's glare was now reaching homicidal levels.
"Stop. Talking," Dean ground out through his teeth. "It isn't exactly a 'normal office fling' when you suddenly realize it's your brother you've been 'flinging' with."
"Hey, I'm just as freaked out about this as you are," Sam tried again. His conscience gave a little twinge at the lie. "And despite the fact that this is literally the most awkward after-sex conversation I've ever had…"
"God, don't say that!" Dean interrupted, scrubbing his hands over his face.
"What? Sex?" Sam asked, anger suddenly pushing nervousness aside. "Why? Do you have another name for what we've been doing for the past three weeks?"
"Yeah, it's called 'let's never mention this ever again'," Dean snapped back. He knew he shouldn't be so hostile to Sam, but better to push his brother away than to risk him finding out the truth. The truth about the way he'd wanted him ever since Sam had turned sixteen and transformed from geeky, gangly teenager into some sort of Greek god. Thoughts like that were sick. Sam was his little brother for Christ's sake.
"Zachariah said there was a pissed off ghost in the building," he changed the subject abruptly. "Let's do our damn job, get rid of it, and get the hell out of here."
Without waiting for an answer or to see if Sam was going to follow him, he stormed out of the office. Sam shook his head and did the only thing left to do. Followed.