Title: Told You He Was Gagging For It
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural
Notes: For Claire Sale (a friend of mine who's a Sam girl) and FreekyDisaster18 (who hasn't had a story out of me in a while)
Busying himself with the doughnut in his hands, Sam was completely unaware of Dean's staring. Okay, yes, Sam didn't eat like he didn't care about his arteries like Dean did; nonetheless, he indulged once in a while. Only really good donuts were made in Seattle, WA – specifically the store Top Pot Doughnuts. The two-story flagship beneath the Monorail, Top Pot's oversized rings and fritters come in flavours like chocolate-peanut and Valley Girl lemon—and some have decorative flourishes like "feather boas," made from pink icing topped with shredded coconut. Nothing was pressing and Dean had a hunger pang for doughnuts and, though Sam didn't really want to know how, Dean new this shop like a memory cavern in the back of his brain. Even one of the waitresses remembered him – although that Sam tried not to dwell on. Sam's dusted doughnut, deep chewy dough that was just fluffy enough, filled his taste buds. Sweet jam came unexpectedly, and spilled onto his bottom lip. He lifted his hand to lick his finger, when he paused, feeling eyes on him. Looking up, rather belatedly, he caught Dean's stare. Dean's glazed eyes held a lonely hunger usually associated with food or sex. Sam frowned at his brother. Dean ran his tongue along his lips, his rather strange surveying of the scene fixated somewhere below Sam's nose.
'Dean?' he asked through half a mouthful, arching a brow in question.
His brother's reaction was normal: Dean's suddenly looking somewhere else, blinking and huffing. That's what Dean did if he had problem bugging him and he was trying to push it out and away from him.
'You okay?' Sam asked, pretty much counting down the time till –
'Fine Sammy, eat up' – there it was.
Sam rolled his eyes in habitual frustration, grumbling 'It's Sam and whatever makes you feel better' which earned him a short glower.
Sam considered Dean for a while, his brother picking up his cup to take a deep swig from his black coffee. Eugh.
Dean shifted in his seat, instantly feel hot and bothered. He was used to keeping an eye on Sam, like it had been bred in him. So why, when he looked over his brother who detrimentally told Dean off about his eating habits, did Dean feel a sudden pang of wolfish hunger. And no, Dean didn't mean for food. A flash, a quick jab in the lower gut that left him avoiding Sam's eyes and question his sanity.
He didn't like it. He didn't understand it.
Perhaps it was reflecting off their last hunt, that warehouse was full of voodoo and sacred objects giving off troubling effects. He hated it when things stuck to him or stupid things like that. Like the time when he lost his voice?! You can't even guess how annoying those two weeks had been. Having to write things on a pad of paper, or Sam's arm. Least their communication was hardly impaired, leaving Dean to think about how much talking they do without talking.
So Dean huffed, eying the waitress in the short skirt and black pumps.
Sam had been increasingly wary of Dean. He had come to that state three weeks ago. Yes, he usually went to bars and checked out the girls – they both did – they were human males after all. No, it's the fact that the girls got less blonde, more brunette, smaller chest but lankier body frames. When someone has a type – typically guys – it will pretty much remain that way, especially if this is just to do with sex obviously. Dean did not change, like ever, he's stuck in his way. Why in hell did he suddenly go for tall, smart women, when Sam would see him make a beeline for the blonde cheerleader who thought Dean looked like he should be in a teen movie with Zac Efron or Tom Welling?
It confused Sam no end. Right at that minute, Sam watched his big brother slide a lock of hair behind a girl's ear in a flirtatious but not aggressive manner. She smiled – a brunette with a killer smile and long legs. What was going on? Oh, and she was a Law student in her final year.
Help!
Sam noticed Dean's hand inching up the girl's thigh, the petting becoming heavier.
A part of Sam told him to turn away; he didn't want to see that side of Dean.
Dean knew his life had turned on its axis and something was irrevocably wrong, when he found himself on his back on a motel bed, with his hand inside his boxers, harder than the metal made from the colt. Squeezing his eyes shut, he bit his bottom lip, arching into his fist. Shit.
'Dean?'
'Sam. I'm going to say this once. Fuck off' Dean growled, banging his head against the headboard.
'Dean?' the small voice of Sam said and fourteen year old Dean sat up on his elbows, eyes searching in the dark for Sam's face. Dean breathed out, looking down at the covers. His face heating up with the idea that his little brother was in the room while he'd been thinking about the girl in the grade above.
'Sammy, do us a favour, ignore me for about ten minutes'
'But-'
'You talking ain't making this any easier. Go' Dean snapped. Pushing aside the thought that Sam's sigh made his gut ache. Yep. Ignore it Winchester.
'Dean, seriously, what's going on with you? Not that I take a big interest in your wanking habits, but you've been doing it a lot lately' Sam said and Dean hoped if shut his eyes hard enough this would all go away. No such luck.
'You mentioning it doesn't really help. As to your question, I have no idea! It's really fuckin' annoying' Dean heard Sam shift somewhere in front of the bed. 'I got laid three days ago. How's this happen? It's like permanently having a flame thrower in your gut' Dean mused aloud; not expecting Sam to reply to be fair. He had hoped his brother had taken some initiative and learned to stop asking questions.
'Well I'm going to have a shower. Please deal with that while I'm gone' Sam grimaced, and Dean huffed a laugh as the bathroom door shut.
Dean tried to focus on a face; any girl for material would be very helpful right now. Lucy Broomfield? Lauren Clarke?
Shit.
A tight body in an even tighter waitress uniform was no help. Dean growled loudly to himself, the sound of water spray from the echoing bathroom.
Humming Sexual Thing to try and get his mind off the situation, Dean knew there was a definite problem. It drove him nuts. It had been for three weeks. That moment in the diner that freaked him out. He loved Sam, to bits, but not in that way. But in that second, his hands itched to touch and taste and… oh fuck.
He didn't register that the water had turned off, still didn't register the opening of the bathroom door. Only when Sam said – 'I swear I'm still growing' that Dean lifted his head to look at his younger brother. Dean wished to hell and back that he hadn't done exactly that.
Sam was looking at him arms with the same expression that appears on cats when they are inspecting their coat. If you took one look at Sam in daylight when he's fully dressed, you saw a youthful twenty-something built like a soccer player. You wouldn't immediately think Sam had a good physique underneath the shirts. But he did. Dean got jealous when Sam began to grow up and out of the puppy fat. Like he always wanted Sam to be little and cute – he's Dean's little brother, he was supposed to be the smaller one. Karma was a bitch. Sam stood in the middle of the room, frowning and Dean appreciated the stretch of muscle and smooth skin.
Sam glanced up, dark eyes looking directly at Dean.
Sam suddenly felt self-conscious, it hitting him that he was standing in the middle of the motel room in his boxers, steam still radiating off his skin. He had wanted to ask Dean something, in looking up, Dean had that same expression on his face that he had done at the diner. Dean's green eyes sparked – Sam's eyes snapping to the floor, moving to get a t-shirt from his duffle.
'Hope that shower doesn't smell of lavender, Samantha. Order a pizza would you?' Dean asked within the space of two seconds, Sam straightened up with his t-shirt in hand.
'Wow' Sam rolled his eyes, pulling the grey t-shirt over his head, sitting on the bed and grabbing the motel room phone, reading the pizza number from the complementary take away lists.
He ordered two large American best pizzas, one without olives (Dean) and one without capers (Sam). He'd even had an argument with a waiter in a pizzeria about not wanting capers. That had been a long night and one he hoped never to repeat. The pizza guy told him it'd be along in half an hour or so, and Sam flicked the TV on, instantly switching over when he saw Vampire Diaries, stopping on CSI.
That night they enjoyed pizza, Sam laughing as Dean imitated actors and laughing more when his older brother fell sideways off the bed in a loud thump.
Overall a good night. Surprisingly not the weirdest either.
Dean didn't want to mention – when Sam asked if he felt better – how he got rid of his teenage style hard on for various reasons. One of which might end up with Sam trying to exorcise him or throw holy water at him. You see, in the shower Dean's mind wandered and when he heard the theme tune from CSI come on the TV, his thoughts went to Sam. Sam as in, I once did a photo-shoot for Diesel for college funds, and not as in Sam my little baby brother. That's right; Sam had told him in a night of truths that he signed up for a photo-shoot to earn some extra cash. He didn't think he'd get chosen but, hey, whadd'ya know? After searching, to see if his little brother looked like a poof, he eventually found the photo. Sam was in low slung ripped jeans, shirtless and leaning against a white wall. His hair was long-ish and messy and he looked ridiculously good looking. Must have been about the time he met Jess. Anyway, a few images flashing across his conscience like an old timey camera wheel had the heat in Dean's gut curl and burst and he was left panting, free of lust and want.
For now.
The lust re-appeared not soon after. Stronger too, and no matter what he did – how many times a girl dropped to her knees it wouldn't go away. Now, some guys wouldn't be complaining as Dean was getting laid nearly the same amount as Casanova, but Dean two weeks later – after a salt and burn in Mississippi - and Dean was holding onto the armchair in the motel room for dear life. Sam walked through the door whistling and Dean gulped rather loudly. Sam stopped at the other side of the room and Dean breathed in carefully.
'Dean?' Sam asked warily, and he wouldn't be surprised if Sam thought this wasn't him.
'Sam. Please don't come any closer' Dean pleaded, watching his brother's face morph into wariness to concern to suspicion.
'Dean?'
'Sam. You take one step closer you moron, you'll regret it'
'Why? You're hands are white, you're gonna break the chair' Sam stepped forward and Dean growled loudly at him, making Sam almost jump.
'Did you just growl at me?' Sam had a small smirk on his face now.
'No' he said through gritted teeth.
'Tell me. How can I help?' and Dean slipped his eyes shut, giving Sam the opportunity to circle his chair in a similar way he prowls around demons.
'You're being a dick Sam, go away. What have I said about personal space?' Dean didn't like the heat off Sam's body it was fogging his senses, lust building once more.
'Reminds me of the time with Gordon, but then you were actually tied to the chair, not gripping on to it as though if you let go the world'll disappear' Sam stopped right in front of Dean, looking down at him with a phased sort of amused expression.
'Shut up' Dean said easily.
Dean then did something he'll regret in about two minutes – or five seconds, depending on how this panned out.
Grabbing a fistful of Sam's shirt, he violently pulled his younger brother lower, smashing his lips against warm plump –
He released Sam, his brother swaying a bit and blinking.
Sam stilled, processing the last loop of his life, licked his lips, nodding.
'Right' Sam paused.
'Sam, I'm sorry. I can't actually – you're here – and-' the look of utter panic over Dean's face could have sent Sam into a fit of laughter in any other time frame. Watching Dean hyperventilate, like he did when the Impala was towed, never ceased to make Sam feel like he was the sane one of the two. Watching Dean pant and make small noises at the back of his throat wasn't one of those times.
'Calm down'
'If I could, I would. Not helping whatsoever, dude'
'Okay' Sam said, twisting around to sit on the comfy couch (they were lucky to get a bigger motel room this time). He switched on the TV, not paying attention to Dean who had froze, the sound of his wet breath reverberating around the room.
Sam waited, after watching an episode of Grey's Anatomy and part of an old episode of Gossip Girl, he said: 'Dean, come sit over here it's weird. Like being in a therapist's office'
'I supposed to know how that feels?' Dean nearly squeaked, Sam shot him a pointed look and eventually his brother sat down on the couch. Perhaps there was a little more space between them than usual, but Dean seemed less unnerved and more slightly hyped up.
'You know, I got asked to be a minor character in this thing?' Dean said, motioning to the screen with Gossip Girl. Sam raised his eyebrows.
'Seriously?' Sam could imagine Dean, when he was a little younger playing the boy next door – although he'd never say that.
'Yup' Dean grinned, his normal grin. 'But I never went to the audition so this other guy got the part. Jared something or other' Dean shrugged carelessly. Sam reached to shove Dean playfully.
'Check you. My big brother could have been a TV teenage heartthrob' Sam laughed, aiming to hit Dean like he was seven, but his hand strayed longer, fingers trailing Dean's neck and jaw.
The voices from the TV dimmed, like a bubble, Sam's heart hammering suddenly. He retracted his hand like he'd burnt it, Dean's eyes glazing and a sigh trickling out of his lips.
'Sam it's fine' Dean said quickly, flashing a grin that just looked fake.
'No it's not!' Sam shouted, going rigid. 'Dean. We can't go on like this'
'I know! But I have got no clue what's happening. It's not a curse or a spell 'cause there was not build up' Dean explained which didn't leave them that many other options, Dean tugged on Sam's shirt insistently.
Sam looked down to Dean's hand, then up to Dean feeling a grave sense of déjà vu.
Dean pushed Sam away, not wanting to make the same mistake twice in the same night. Sam had other thoughts it appeared, he held onto Dean. Great, Sam was going to punch him now. He knew it was coming some point - he would have hit himself by now.
'Don't' Sam said, and Dean frowned, trying to figure out whether Sam was fucking with him, or was about to pound his head in.
God. He wished Sam would let go of him, so he wouldn't have a resounding desire to push Sam into the couch, push up Sam's t-shirt and lick a stripe across his abs.
'I don't-'and Dean searched Sam's face for any inclination of trouble. 'I don't mind' Sam's dark eyes met his.
'Sam' he warned. 'Sam. Think about what you just said' Dean gulped, the pounding in his ears, the adrenaline swarming with lust under his veins.
There was a knock on the door making both men jump. 'That'll be the Chinese' Sam said vaguely before bounding up to grab the door. Dean had forgotten about the order.
Sat with the Chinese, the sweet chili sauce surprisingly good, Dean had some around his mouth. He never was a neat eater. Sam usually would give him an expression like my-brother-is-not-related-to-me, instead Sam focused on his food.
Sam – and Dean – found out the reason for Dean's maddening sex drive not long after.
The amulet, unlike the other pieces of jewellery Dean wore, was not protected by anti witchcraft or anything. Dean's anti possession bracelet which made him look like a hipster, his amulet did the same. A spirit of lust and carnal passion – specifically Teicu, an Aztec spirit, had locked onto Dean's amulet. Sam had been sure some Aztec stuff was just folklore, but he was proven wrong when asking Bobby (without the details).
Dean had turned a full one eighty degrees and was now being very quiet, very moody and acting like the stereotype for macho men. And failing – in Sam's eyes.
Once, when he was thirteen, did Sam picture Dean's lips and body in tugging one off at night. It hadn't been fair, he was young! Dean had been working on the Impala all day in the blazing heat without a shirt. He already had a hero worship for Dean at that age. Trying to rationalize that instance would be beyond stupid. But feeling that same strum of heat in your twenty's was entirely another matter.
Dean got back into the car, shutting the door which creaked. They had stopped at an overnight garage because Sam kept telling Dean random facts about pop tarts to fill the silence.
'Sam' Dean said, not giving any hint that they were moving anytime soon and we sat just off the highway.
'Hm?' was the committed reply.
'You know the whole amulet thing?' Sam looked out the window, replying with a 'yes', 'We nearly – I mean we almost – you know' Sam could hear the hesitation, the grittiness of his brother's voice. It made him ache to hear it.
'Yup. What do you want to do Dean? Write it off as One Of The Weirder Things Happened To The Winchesters?' he asked trying to keep emotion out of his voice with no luck at all.
'I wouldn't mind if we'd – '
Sam's eyes widened and he turned his head to look at Dean to make sure he was reading this right and was not about to wake up. Dean licked his lips, 'I wouldn't mind if we'd gone further. That's not the lust talking. This's me. I need to know what you think'
Dean looked on the verge of breaking, green eyes softer – no longer hard with want.
'I already said it' Sam replied in a quiet voice. Dean was obviously thinking along the wrong track as he looked ready to bolt. 'Remember? I said I don't mind'
A small smile hitched to the side of Dean's mouth and they just looked at each other before Dean turned on the Impala's engine, the car's body shaking into life.
Next stop, Louisiana state.
Review please :) xxx