Yes, I wrote Wincest, try not to faint. This is mainly a gift to my lovely girlfriend, and I hope it doesn't appal her too much that I mangled one of her ships :P
It had always been a reality of their existence that occasionally, one or the other of them would walk in on something they really didn't want to see.
When they'd been younger, it was usually Sam walking in on Dean. Most of it was to be expected, especially when Sam knew that his older brother had trouble keeping his hands to himself when it came to women. And the amount of times Sam had walked through an unlocked bathroom door to find Dean alone and...occupied, didn't bear mentioning.
There had been a few incidents where Sam had been caught out though, and Dean had made enough of them that it seemed like they were almost even.
Then there had been Ruby, Sam's little sanguine secret, and Dean had made it his business to keep tabs on Sam's personal life. They'd gotten closer, more wary of each other, but that made it easier to request a little privacy now and then.
Then, Lydia. And Sam had to make it his duty to try and keep track of what Dean was doing, both to himself, and any woman they happened to meet. He was worried, both that Dean would pick up the wrong woman, or that Dean would just get drunk and sloppy, and wind up dead. Whether because of a supernatural evil, or because of his own carelessness in driving or around other drinkers.
Dean seemed aware that he was now the one being watched, as opposed to the one doing the watching, which made it even more surprising when he came home from a bar at three am, to find Sam naked in their hotel room.
He paused in the doorway, a half remembered song dying on his lips. Then he swung the door slowly closed and forced himself to blink.
Nope, still Sam. Still naked.
"Dean?" Sam asked, turning his head to try and catch a glimpse of the doorway. "That you?"
"Yeah..." Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Why're you naked?"
"I..." Sam actually looked embarrassed, and his neck was red from blushing. "I picked up a girl...she...uh...wasn't exactly legit."
"No kidding." Dean's eyes wandered to the handcuffs that bound Sam to the headboard. "I assume this was a...professional lady?"
"Not exactly a lady...but yeah." Sam admitted quietly.
"Uh-huh." Dean heaved a long suffering sigh, and sat down on the chair by the door.
"Hey, just, uncuff me." Sam wriggled on the bed, and Dean fixed his eyes on the safe, bland drywall to his left.
"Not until you stop lying to me."
"I'm not lying." Sam actually sounded pissed, and Dean supposed that would bother him if he wasn't still buzzed. The whole situation was actually quite funny.
"Right, so after you lectured me about being careful, and not going home with another Lydia...you brought some random hooker back to our room?" Dean crossed his legs casually. "Not buying it."
"Yeah, it was dumb. I'm an idiot. That what you want to hear? Just, undo the damn cuffs. I can't feel my arms."
"That is a drawback of using 'em, yeah." Dean rolled his eyes. "But, the thing is, I think you're leaving something out."
"Like what?" Sam demanded.
"Like, how come you're face down, on the bed."
Sam went very still, and very silent.
"Care to explain that?" Dean smirked easily, almost enjoying his position on the conversational high ground. It had been long enough.
"I..." Sam cut himself off, turning his face to one side to avoid a mouthful of pillow. "That's not something we need to talk about."
"Oh really." Dean got up and took two steps towards the bed, sitting down heavily on the edge of the mattress and whipping the sheet off of Sam's lower body, ignoring his yelp. "I just think, it might hurt future hunts if I'm depending on you to show up, and you can't, 'cause some hooker left you tied up with a plug up your ass."
Sam kicked at him with one leg, Dean swatted him back. "Was she a lady Sam? Or, did you bring a truck-stop hustler back to the hotel? That we share by the way – so, I hope he was clean."
"Okay, fine." Sam snapped, "Haha, very funny. You're paying me back for all those times I caught you doing kinky crap with women – all the jokes about you and...Dick. Fine. Can I please get up now?"
Dean answered by lying down next to him, so he and his brother were nose to nose.
"I never would have thought you were a bottom."
Sam groaned and buried his flaming face in the pillow. Why did his brother have to be a chatty drunk?
"I mean, yeah, you're a little girly, but...you know, when you're brother's lays all die, you have to figure he's got a lot of pent up..." Dean makes a vague 'angry' gesture that Sam misses entirely, as he is trying to go to his mental happy place – far from this conversation. "Which, naturally lends itself to more of a top kinda scenario."
Sam abandons his attempts at mental serenity to glare at Dean. "And how would you know?"
Dean shrugs. "The same way I know that truck stop hustlers are kinda shady - experience."
Sam digests this.
"You...I mean, you..."
"Have pulled a midnight cowboy here and there." Dean waves the knowledge off as trivial. "Thought you knew all about that."
"I didn't."
"Huh." Dean shrugs. "S'not a big deal. Just saying that, if you want a little pillow-biting action, I'm ok with it. You can just tell me to stay out of the room for a while. Hey, go to a bar, pick up a nice guy."
Sam can actually feel reality taking a nose dive into crazy town's cuckoo clock tower.
"How could you not tell me?" He finds himself asking.
"I told you, I thought you'd twigged already. I mean, you're always joking about it...figured it was obvious." Dean fiddles with the edge of the pillow that Sam's lying on.
"It wasn't...how come I've never caught you with a guy then? I've seen you plenty of times with girls."
"Maybe I was being careful, in case of Dad finding out." Dean shrugs. "Maybe...I don't know Sam, it just happened like that. I didn't want you getting all..."
"What?"
"Nothing, just, you're the important thing, like, the only important guy to me. Thought you might get the wrong idea, seeing me with..."
"You thought I'd be jealous?" Sam really hates that this is all coming out now, because Dean is drunk, and he's tied up, and neither of them should be having this conversation.
"Are you?"
Sam doesn't even want to think about it. But...he knows, in the pit of his stomach that seeing some guy groping his brother would make him feel...something. Something bad and twisted. He knows he doesn't want to see it, couldn't write it off as 'just Dean being Dean'.
He doesn't say anything, but Dean sighs and puts his hand on Sam's bare back, patting him.
"S'ok. Not like I want some guy putting his hands all over you."
"You just told me I should go to a gay bar." Sam points out, feeling the heat from Dean's hand soak into his skin. The hand isn't moving, not patting in reassurance anymore. After a few seconds it starts to stroke his skin, almost unnoticeably.
"I want you to be safe, if you want to find a guy." Dean mutters. "Doesn't mean I want you to find a guy."
Sam's already thinking 'We are so fucked up' before Dean's hand slides a little lower and brushes over the curve of his ass. A breath snaps into his lungs, and he looks up, as well as he can with his arm in the way. Looking at Dean with shock stealing the words from his mouth.
"This's weird." Dean mumbles, blinking and furrowing his brow, like he knows this is not something he'd do if he was sober, if their lives hadn't been whittled down in great, bloody chunks. If this wasn't all they could depend on.
"No it's not." Sam promises, leaning up and rubbing his body back against Dean's hand. What he means is, 'It's not, right now. But it will be. But I don't care.'
But that's too much to say when his brain is only focusing on how good it would feel, just once, to have a secret together, instead of one that they had to always hide from each other.
Sam leans up and kisses his brother, and when Dean kisses back, tasting a little of sour whisky, he's so relieved. Dean rumbles something against his mouth, and Sam breaks away to nod, not needing to have understood to know that he wants this, wants anything Dean is prepared to do for him.
After everything, the apocalypse, hell, the last few months, and especially tonight – he just wants someone he can trust. And that list, is kind of limited to one person.
Dean pulls away from him, and Sam gets shockingly little warning in between the sound of a zipper going down, and the plug being drawn out of his ass. He hisses, having almost gotten used to the constant pressure, then he feels Dean's thumb rubbing against the slack opening, massaging almost unconsciously.
Sam can't help it, he pushes back impatiently, trying not to think about what Dean is going to think of him when he finally sobers up.
"Stop worrying." Dean tells him, and not for the first time, Sam wonders if he's the only one in the family with psychic power. He hears Dean click his tongue, like he's thinking – then, "Okay...this might actually hurt a little."
In all the times Sam has seen his brother naked, all the accidental incidents of nudity and in flagrante interruptions, he's never really taken a good look at him. Mostly he's just turned and bolted.
When the head of Dean's cock (surprisingly already hard) presses against him, and Sam feels his body struggling to open for it – he realises that Dean is pretty big, and that, he's right, this is probably going to hurt. He curls his hands into fists, pulling on the cuffs, ready to tough it out.
When the head actually wins its fight against Sam's loosened ass, both of them shiver, and Dean's breath hitches. Sam clenches a little, and after the frustratingly small plug, he's actually almost painfully glad to have something that properly stretches him. Dean pushes forwards a little more, and Sam muffles a groan into the pillow. It feels so good. The long push into his insides is utterly, inescapable.
Dean grunts as he pushes the last little way forwards, resting one arm across Sam's back to steady himself. His other hand grips Sam's hip noting the hardness of the muscle there, where there used to be springy Sammy-weight. Dimly he wonders when Sam had started turning into him, and when he'd started turning into someone he almost doesn't recognise.
"You ok?" Dean mutters.
"Yeah." Sam says.
And that's basically all the permission Dean needs.
Sam's expecting it to be fast and hard, as impersonal as possible. He's surprised when Dean starts slow, easing in and out of him, never pulling more than an inch or so away before pushing home. It feels really good, and Sam's body heats up, until he's sweating and panting, stuck between loving the deep, rolling thrusts and the heat they're sending through him, and wanting more.
Finally, he breaks the truce-like silence. "Dean...can you...move a little faster."
Dean actually stops entirely, and Sam almost whines.
"Are you criticising my technique?"
Sam pushes back against Dean, but his brother pulls away, eluding him.
"No...I like it just fine, I just like it better when it's...fast, and hard."
Dean actually laughs, and Sam feels the vibrations of it all the way up his spine. "Wow, you really have some issues."
"Says the drunk guy with his dick in his brother." Sam mutters.
Either Dean doesn't hear him, or he does and he just decides that revenge is best served hot and fast, because the next thing Sam knows the full weight of Dean is on him, and Dean's arms are folded over his head, pressing his face into the pillow, as his whole body goes into each thrust – violent, deep and totally out of Sam's control.
After a few seconds dean eases up just long enough to yank Sam's head up and gasp, "You like this?"
And Sam only has enough time to groan, "Yes" before Dean's pushing him back down, and fucking him until Sam's whole body is running with sweat, his face is burning, and he comes deep into the mattress.
Sam shivers, relaxing into Dean's menacing grip on him, feeling his brother ease up a little, till he's back to his initial, slower speed. Then slower still, till Sam's breathing evens out, and he can feel Dean's face against the back of his neck, and his brother comes with a light shudder, the almost tender rhythm of his thrusts dying down, until he's just lying on top of him, breathing quietly.
Sam swallows, and he realises that this is going to be really fucking awkward tomorrow. He also realises that Dean is going to pass out, and it's probably a good idea to have him unlock the cuffs before that happens – so that Sam can clean up and do his best to pretend that nothing ever happened.
It had always been a reality of their existence, one of their unspoken rules – what you don't acknowledge, can't hurt you.
Sam only wished that it was true.