The general rule with werecat hunting was very clear; don't get scratched. It was advised to wear thick, concealing clothes to avoid any unnecessary cuts caused by their sharp, dainty claws. The reason being, what could arise from it. While it varied person to person, the scentless secretion that coated the thin nails often came with side effects. Most of the time it was harmless headaches and fevers.
Although, some who were more susceptible to the toxin would often go through what they could only describe as a daylong heat. Heat, as in animalistic mating habits, heat. Filling the victim with the insatiable need to jump the very first living person they see. Some considered this easy enough to deal with, just find a cheap whore or high tail it to a lover, and all would be well.
In comparison to the bite, being scratched was a walk in the park for practically anybody.
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"Dean, I really think-"
"Aw, shut up Sam, we got this."
"Dean."
"Come on, it's just like werewolves, except, well, cats."
"No, Dean, look," Sam said as he shoved the dusty journal in Dean's face. "If you just read this here." One long finger jabbing at a small, barely there, scribbled down note. So insignificant to Dean he had to strain his eyes from the short distance he was from the book to even see the damn thing. "It expressly warns against going in without proper protection." Sam's eyes were wide, mouth set in a fine line. He shook the journal minutely when Dean seemed to no longer pay attention to the cracked pages, his urgency barely denting his brother's self-assurance.
Dean scoffed, one hand coming up to push the leather book out of his face, shoving Sam playfully a fair distance back and hooking his thumbs in his jeans pockets. Sam backed willingly, expression of disbelief clear on his face as he cradled the small journal close. Seconds of silence passed, Dean smiling brightly and Sam unable to do much else than gawk, and so with a defeated sigh he smoothed the pages and shut the book.
"Look dude, we'll be fine. It's just another monster, nothin' important at all." The older brother's tune was cheery, light hearted as he scavenged the Impala keys from the left pocket of his jacket.
"Dean, everyone says-"
"Everyone says to be extra careful when fighting were's, nothing new." Dean seemed assured in his confidence, rolling his shoulders back and striding off towards the car, whistling a low tune as he went. Sam for his part stared exasperated at his brother's back, setting the journal back down on the motels rickety desk before slipping into his thick leather jacket and tilting its collars up. His pants were dense enough he might as well be wearing two of them, thick brown gloves matching to his heavy duty boots. Though Dean might not be worried at all, Sam was one for precautions. Thus, if every text and person warned against werecats and their nasty venom, he would be all for gearing up against it.
He hurried his way outside when Dean began to impatiently honk the horn, locking the motel's door and sliding into the passenger seat. Barely enough time to buckle his seatbelt and Dean zoomed off, smirking at Sam's winded look.
"Well don't you just look prime and ready for the ball." Dean said with a snicker, patting his jacket collar down while giving a pointed look to Sam's.
"Up yours Dean, just trying to be safe." Sam said, a sigh evident in his voice as he leaned his head against the window. Cool glass helping to alleviate his oncoming headache, to which loud music playing in the car did not help.
"Safe my ass, we're practically pros. All we need is our weapons and we're good to go." Dean shouted over the music, fingers tapping away on the steering wheel to the beat blasting out the radio.
Sam deemed it not worthy of answering, knowing anything he said would be rebutted and chose to stay quiet, arms crossed and eyes closed. The hunt was a good hour drive, the werecat's nesting in the forested mountains far from the town they actively hunted in. Smart, Sam guessed, throw the hunters off their trails longer if they spent time looking in the nearby woods instead of the forests farther away.
Logic didn't make the drive any easier, what with this uneasy pit in his stomach gnawing away at his confidence.
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"Sam- fuck that stings!"
"Dean! Did you-?"
"Yes, shit just, fucking, get us out of here!"
"I'm trying! They're everywhere!"
"Slash all of their fucking heads off, I don't care! I don't think-"
"Dean?"
"…"
"Dean, you still here?"
"…"
"Shit."
-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. ... / ..-. . ...- . .-.
"You got bit." Sam said, rage barely contained as he glowered down his brother who sat at the edge of his bed. Dean was cradling his bandaged hand, the white cloth stained a disturbing shade of orange and skin reddening where the gauze didn't cover. Whereas Sam couldn't keep his gaze from glaring holes into Dean's head, Dean seemed as if he couldn't focus on one object for more than a second. The jittery behaviour was offsetting, to say the least, but did nothing to lessen Sam's anger.
"Dean, you got bit." Sam repeated, because even he was having a bit of a hard time accepting that fact. Dean looked up at him finally, wide eyed and if Sam calmed down just enough he might have noticed the genuine fear shining there.
"Yeah." Was Dean's eloquent reply and Sam tossed his hands in the air, staring up at the ceiling and mouthing a few choice words. Of course Dean would get bit. Of friggen' course.
"Do you have any idea what's going to happen?" A pause for thought, "Do I have any idea?" Sam stated more than questioned, a gloved hand raking through his hair as he paced about the room. Dean stayed seated, wounded hand held close as he bit into his lower lip, gnawing the flesh until it reddened and swelled.
"Does anybody know?" Sam said spitefully, a hollow chuckle leaving him.
"Bobby might." Dean chipped in, voice meek but Sam still couldn't find it in himself to really notice.
"No, Dean. No he won't, we asked him, remember?" Sam swiveled in his step, turning fully to face Dean who appeared mesmerized by the molding red carpet at their feet. "Oh wait, I asked him, you played cowboy."
"Fuck you, Sam." Dean said bitterly, glaring up at his brother, shoulders hunched defensively.
"Yeah, well fuck you too." Sam replied, anger no longer held back as he turned away, marching towards the bathroom and muttering scorn beneath his breath. "Pros my ass." He said more to himself than to Dean, slamming the door shut and shedding his clothes. He needed time to level his head and clear his anger. A shower was in order.
-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. ... / ..-. . ...- . .-.
He was burning up, motel sheets a brushfire against his flesh. His heart a bruising force within his chest, body aching, but for what he could not discern. Trembles wrecked through him, back arching, gasp tearing forth, a cry not entirely human slipping free. Release, that's what he needed, to be filled, taken, used, yearning for rough treatment. Clawing at the sheets and clothes being shed, he couldn't wait. It wasn't petty want or craving, it was need, bone deep and wrecking his mind with the desire for hands and tongue and teeth.
Distantly a door opening, steam pouring like mist, familiar voice breaking into the fog of his mind. As if it were a siren's song the maddening lust taking seed further and he let himself fall into it. Judgment clouding over and senses dimming to only the most bestial of instincts. In a short flurry of movements his world disintegrating to nothing more than touch and need.
-.-. .- - / ... -.-. .-. .- - -.-. ... / ..-. . ...- . .-.
Dean's never felt more fucked in his life. In both the literal and figurative sense of the word.
The first thing he noticed was how sore he was. His ass especially. Second, was that the room was far too bright for morning. Was it morning? He doesn't remember much, only Sam storming off to shower and himself sulking on the bed, cradling his wounded hand. Which strangely enough doesn't hurt anymore. It's just a gentle ache now.
From what he can recall from the previous night was there must have been something wrong with the air conditioning because damn, it was hot. He remembers heat and large hands and a rush he can't quite place. All in all it was confusing and he needed to get to the bottom of it right away. For all he knows it could be a symptom of his bite.
His attempt at getting up was thwarted by his entire body denying him the movement, slumping back into the bed with a load groan. Okay, something was up. Maybe he was just sick. Hopefully. Maybe. With a loud huff he figured yeah, his hope was a load of crap. This was obviously the werecat bite and so he tried to look on the bright side of things; it could be worse.
As he lay in misery wondering where he went wrong in life the door to the motel burst open, the frame shaking and hinges giving an awful creak. Dean had the ability to shoot up now, shock overriding pain as his hand went to the gun which was… not beneath his pillow. Huh. He hadn't much time to panic over that detail before he realized it was just Sam.
Who looked a little worse for wear. The poor kid's eyes were red and cracked, dark rings lining them and hands shaking where they held a bag of presumable food and a large cup of coffee. Seems the night wasn't bad just for him.
"Dean, you're uh, awake." Sam said, voice uneven and nervous; something had obviously shaken him. Dean hadn't much time to figure anything because suddenly Sam was lurching forward, drink's contents swilling about the lid dangerously as it was thrust into his hand, fingers circling the warmth instinctively when Sam shuffled back a pace.
"That's good, excellent, that's coffee for you, black, like you like it." The younger brother's words were mumbled and Dean's brain really wasn't up to much currently, having just awoken to a horribly aching body and confusing jumble of memory. Sam stared at him, gnawing on his lower lip until he burst once more into action, hands fumbling the bag of food before shoving it onto Dean's lap in one messy movement.
"And food. Thought you would be hungry. Its, uhm, pie, because you know, it's your favourite. And a cheeseburger with extra onions on it. Real greasy." Sam chuckled awkwardly at the end, scratching at the back of his head and something really must have scared him, because he was never this up to catering Dean's wants. Dean's head swiveled as he looked blankly down at the food bag in his lap and the steaming coffee in his hand. He was certainly confused, because, what?
"What?" Dean asked, voice hoarse and throat roughly against him speaking. He ignored the urge to pull a face, rubbing a hand on his neck while taking a slow drink from his coffee. The dark liquid did little to soothe the pain, but it's rich taste did wonders for his mentality and wow, this coffee tasted like the good stuff they usually don't pay for. Dean squinted his eyes up at Sam, examining his face and wondering why exactly his brother wasn't so angry anymore, because last night he was pissed as hell, and now he's suddenly falling on Dean's whims and refusing to look him in the eye.
"Sam, what's going on?" Dean asked tentatively, speaking not so painful but maybe that was because he was really curious, curious and a little bit scared of what answer he may get because if anyone was hard to scare, it was Sam. And here he was, practically biting through his nails and looking like some addict who wasn't able to get their next fill.
"Hm? What? Oh no, nothing's wrong, it's all, uhm, perfectly, fine. Yeah, fine." Yeah fine Dean's ass, seemed like Sam was trying to convince himself more than he was Dean.
"Right, and I'm a fairy princess." Dean stated, sarcasm lacing his words and seeming to only make Sam's avoidant behaviour worse. Sam now backpedaling to the small table in the corner, falling into the rickety chair none too gracefully. Dean could hear the cracking and splintering of the cheap wood from where he was, and would have commented on it if Sam didn't look so bad.
"I don't know, you could be. I mean, you have pretty eyes."
Dean didn't bother replying to that, because it was so left field Dean didn't think it had the proper qualifications for him to even considering answering.
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"So you going to tell me what's up already or am I gonna have to be stuck guessing?" Dean asked Sam from the passenger seat, slumped where he sat because he never rides shotgun and yet here he was. Sam insisted on driving, like it was the only thing that would give him purpose in life and Dean admitted he felt a little bad for him, so he relented.
"I already told you Dean, nothing's wrong." Sam sounded more firm this time, less frantic and panicked so perhaps allowing him to drive was the right thing to do.
"Sam, you look like your entire world has just burnt down all around you." He paused to look outside, watch all the trees and bushes pass in a blur of greens and golds, dissipating to dusty fields and desert. Moving to sit up straighter he uncrossed his arms, putting his palms out and flaring them upwards in confusion. "I mean come on, last night you were pissed as hell and now you're being as nice as can be! What's your deal?"
"I have no deal." His little brother sounded more defensive, hunching his shoulders and holding the steering wheel with both hands, fingers clenching until the knuckles turned white.
"Yeah sure." Dean said blithely, slouching back into his seat with a loud sigh. Sam didn't seem like he wanted to chat from here on out, which made absolutely no sense. Dean felt like he should be the one acting all dark and angsty, considering he got bit by a supernatural creature that pretty much no knows anything about, but here was Sam, brooding his way to the stars.
"Can you at least tell me what went down last night? Everything went a bit fuzzy after you stormed off." Dean said, scratching at his head and kicking his feet up on the dashboard -carefully of course, no need to harm his baby.
Apparently asking was the wrong thing considering the car suddenly did a swerve that would do a number on her tires and Sam jerked her to a hard stop, dust clouds and screeching asphalt rising through the air as both the brothers lurched forward in their seats before slamming back. Dean was flabbergasted, mouth hanging open as he couldn't choose between anger, worry, or just plain betrayal. No one had the right to slam the brakes on his girl, no one.
"What the fu-"
"Can you just stop asking so many damn questions?" Sam cut him off, words quick and harsh and Dean was never more confused in his life. He threw Sam an indignant look, unable to believe that is what Sam nearly killed them over. Because seriously, what the fuck?
"Sam. I'm going to say this once, and only once." Dean paused, coughing a bit as he loosened his seat belt. "If you ever deem yourself worthy of halting sixty miles per hour in a second to ask me to shut up again, I am going to jam my foot so far up your ass…" He stopped again, closing his eyes as he envisioned maiming his brother in various ways.
"So far up your ass, the water in my knee, will quench your thirst, am I clear?" Dean finished, turning his head to look at his brother and Sam seemed flustered, mouth opening and closing and eyes wild. Well yeah, good for him, Sam deserved to be panicked.
"Am. I. Clear?" Dean enunciated. Sam blinked, looking to his feet and back up to the headboard, all the while muttering under his breath.
"Uh, uhm yeah. Yeah you're clear." Sam said with a nod, biting his lower lip and crunching his brow. Dean hummed, smile fake and bright as he looked out the window and back at his brother, trying to figure what next to say because he obviously deserves some answers now in light of Sam nearly totaling them both.
"So, Sam, buddy, pal."
"Yeah?" Sam replied tentatively, face pinched.
"Now that you, you know, nearly toppled my car, would you like to tell what shoved that stick up your ass?" To this his younger brother sighed loudly, slouching and grabbing at his face with both hands while he made noises of distress. Dean could really care less now, pity all gone, vaporized like the dust clouds settling back on the ground to where they should have never been rustled up in the first place.
"Dean, can we please, please, just drop it?" Sam seemed to beg, voice muffled through his fingers and Dean shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.
"Nope."
"Dean."
"Not getting out of this Sam."
"I really don't…"
"I really do."
"Jesus fucking just god damn it!" Sam burst out, hands suddenly smashing down hard against the steering wheel, the car's horn blaring loud. Dean jumped where he sat, hands unsure of whether they should raise up in pacification, or reach out and give Sam a good one in the jaw for causing further harm to his baby. One wary look shot Sam's way made him question both, his brother looking more, well, ferocious, than Dean's ever seen him.
"Ho-kay then, why don't we just," before Dean could say more Sam was up and out of his seat, Dean flinching to the sound of the car's door slamming shut. He looked through the windshield in shock, watching as Sam yelled in frustration, kicking up dirt and tossing his hands around. Okay then. Touchy subject.
Dean watched Sam act like a ticked off bull a few minutes longer, until it seemed like he calmed down enough to at least listen to reason. He carefully exited his car, making sure to shut the door nice and slow, before turning to find Sam hunched on the ground, hands buried in his hair and breath fuming. Approaching as he would a spooked animal, Dean made sure to give a wide berth, just in case Sam decided he felt like tearing Dean a new one like he did the ground.
A few meters from Sam is where Dean stopped, hands up and face neutral so he wouldn't agitate his brother further.
"Sam?" He called out, careful and easy as he shuffled a bit where he stood, body still sore from the night previous. Sam made a grumbling noise at the sound of his voice, perking his head up slightly.
"Sammy?" The nickname seemed to do it, Sam standing in a fluster. His hazel eyes were wide and frantic, hair frazzled and it was actually kind of frightening for the giant of his brother to solely place all of his crazed focus on him. Dean tried his best not to fidget, keeping his smile warm and understanding even though he really felt this should be reversed. Honestly, wasn't he the one bit by the werecat, not Sam? Perhaps he should check him for bites, make sure Sam's not hiding a few teeth marks somewhere.
"We fucked." Sam spat out, quick and jumbled and Dean sincerely didn't understand what he meant.
"Up? We fucked up?" Dean clarified, head cocking inquisitively as he attempted to diverge the answer from Sam as delicately as possible. It didn't work, or maybe it did, perhaps this was improvement, but that was hard to consider when Sam was two inches from his face. His hands grabbing hard at Dean's biceps and shaking him as if that would make Dean understand what was going on.
"No Dean, we fucked. We didn't fuck up, no that would make everything fucking easier, we fucking. We fucked." Dean's head spun as Sam spoke, mind trying to make sense and only formulating the answer 'that was a lot of fucks'. Of course, Sam shaking him like some sort of children's toy didn't help him think too clearly.
"What?" Dean asked again, unsure still of what Sam meant. The answer was becoming clearer, still however, it was unbelievable in what it entailed, and so Dean wanted to feign ignorance a moment longer.
"I shoved my dick up your ass. Clear enough?" Sam snapped, fingers clenching a bruise into Dean and oh. Well then. That was… not expected. But that would explain the fuzzy memories that now screamed fun in the sack, and with Sam being the only one around at the time… Jesus, Dean was an idiot.
"Oh." Dean responded, eloquent and utter poetry and Sam's nostrils did that little flare they always did before he reached the point of no return so maybe Dean should be paying more attention. But he was just told he got fucked by his brother -his little brother no less- the night before and had little to no memory of it, so excuse everyone if he had a bit of trouble concocting something better than a mumble.
"Just 'oh'? That's all?" Sam said, releasing Dean and backing up until he reached the front of the car, leaning heavily against it and looking skyward. "I just told you we fucked last night and 'oh' is all you have to say." His voice was quiet, his words almost a murmur, Dean only catching it because he was paying extra close attention to the world around him.
Everything was a bit flip floppy at the moment, Dean uncertain on how he should feel currently. Of course, he expected himself to feel some form of disgust, or horror, but he mostly found himself feeling curious. Instead of general revulsion he wanted to know more about the happenings of last night, more so to clear the foggy details and have everything squared away. He wondered what it said about his person that he wasn't too affected by being told his brother screwed him, but their life was already a train wreck of bad parenting and noncomformative (if killing things ever became the norm Dean might just have to shoot himself) living standards, all in all, he considered this to be a best case scenario.
"It could have been worse." Dean stated, and it was the truth, at least to him. The bite could have left him a foaming at the mouth mess of organ failure and seizures, worse; it could have turned him. Really the whole getting fucked by Sam wasn't too disheartening compared to those other options. A bit weird perhaps, because this will be an absolute delight to deal with, knowing Sam and his ever long partnership with manpain and self-loathing. Not that Dean was one to talk but hey, at least he was taking it better.
"Worse? Worse? Dean, we, I, I can't believe. Dean this is worse." Sam said, hands thrown up in disbelief and face clear incredulity. Dean shrugged, hands dug deep in his jacket pocket as he really could care less. He didn't know why Sam was freaking out so much (well he did, but this was just excessive if you asked him), wondered why his brother didn't just take a chill pill and use that freakish brain of his and logically analyze the situation.
Unless… Maybe Sam felt guilty for reasons other than the whole incest bit. Yes, Dean was sure they could handle that problem alone with enough time, but last night Dean wasn't in the right state of mind. He was in no way able to give consent, let alone to being fucked by his brother of all things, so considering Sam, he probably assumes he raped Dean. He did in a way, Dean guesses, but at the same time he also figures he was pretty damn hard to deny anything if he managed to get through to the ever thick as a brick Sam. Dean sighed heavily at this realization, shoulders slumping and mouthing a little 'whipee', simply knowing this was going to be a blast.
"How?" Dean started, figuring he might as well lead Sam through the events he himself has no memory of and hopefully draw Sam to the conclusion that no, everything was fine, it was just the bite that made this very strange and unusual happenstance occur.
"How what?" Sam asked tiredly, one hand massaging his temple, the other crossed over his chest defensively.
"Well, how exactly did we lead to fucking? I'm pretty sure we don't just accidentally fall into someone." Dean said, clearing his meaning and although sure he should have worded it differently, you know, for the more sensitive people like Sam, he deserves leeway for pretty much everything that had transpired these past two days. Sam twitched uncomfortably at his question, both arms now crossing his chest as he looked at Dean's feet.
"Why?" Sam questioned instead of replying, Dean sighing because he didn't want this to turn into some sort of one word pass back game.
"Because you just told me you 'shoved your dick up my ass', I would like to know why and how, if that isn't so bad." Dean responded, crossing his arms he figured it safe enough to move closer, stopping a few feet shy from Sam.
"Well, it was, you were." Sam said, words stumbling about like babies first learning to walk.
"I was?" Dean pressed.
"Look, I left the shower after about twenty minutes and you were just rolling on the bed, making these weird little noises, and you wouldn't stop no matter how many times I called your name. And then…" Sam stopped short, face colouring. Dean leaned in curiously, moving to sit next to Sam but halted by one of Sam's hands pressing into his chest, palm flat and holding him there.
"But then I yelled your name, and well, that seemed to work, except it didn't, it really didn't."
"What do you mean?"
"You suddenly latched on to me, and you wouldn't let go and then you started begging and making these little whimpers and I don't how long that lasted before I, oh god I." Sam couldn't continue it seemed, face colouring bright red as the hand not holding Dean back covered his mouth in shame. Dean hummed, pursing his lips and lowering Sam's hand with a touch to his wrist before sitting next to him on the car. Well wasn't this just a toughie.
"Then?"
"Oh fuck off you know what happened then." Sam said tiredly, head turning the other way from Dean. The older brother sighed, one hand rubbing at his neck awkwardly. He didn't think he would ever have to deal with something like this, and so being faced with it he was left directionless with a guilt ridden Sam and no clues as to where to go.
"Well uh, it could have been worse." Dean restated, and sure yeah, it could be.
"Dean, just stop."
"Well hey! It could have!" Dean defended, turning his body to face Sam who still refused to look at him.
"How?" Sam asked, shoulders slumping and hands held up in confusion.
"The bite could have left me a mindless foaming mess." Dean said, scooting back further on the hood until his feet barely scraped the dirt.
"It did turn you into a mindless mess." Mumbled Sam tiredly, facing forward and resting his elbows on his knees, head in hands.
"But not a dying one." Dean offered, sure that this would shine some light on Sam's dark mood.
"That would have been easier."
"Hey! Are you claiming a dying me is easier to deal with than a sexed up me?" Dean said, honestly a bit offended because come on, at least he wasn't going to drop dead (he hoped) in the next few days.
"Please, please don't say that."
"What, come on, you totally dealt with a sexed up me."
"Doesn't mean I want to think about it."
"Aw don't say that Sam, I'm sure it was fun." Dean said with a chuckle, leaning back against the car, arms crossing on his midsection.
"Are you trying to ask if I enjoyed myself?" Sam asked dubiously.
"No." Dean said, drawing out the vowel before casting a glance skyward, watching the clouds float pass. "Maybe." Dean finished, shooting a nervous look to Sam. He was curious, sue him.
"No. Just. Just no." Sam replied slowly, shaking his head and getting off the hood. Dean watched as he re-entered the car, on the passenger's side this time, so Dean rightfully assumed sharing time was over.