*
Dean stares hard at the douchebag sitting next to Sam, his eyes boring holes in the back of the guy's head, wondering if he really does have a death wish or if he's just clueless. The man is blissfully unaware that he's about to get a serious ass kicking.
And Sam. Laughing, joking with the guy, like he's the funniest frigging thing in the whole world.
Dean swears if that guy slaps Sam on the shoulder one more time, he's gonna eat a Winchester fist, lose a few teeth and count himself lucky that he's still among the living.
He watches as the two at the bar bump shoulders, tossing back shots like they're old drinking buddies. Nice. Here he is working his tail off, hustling pool, trying to keep them in food and gas and Sam's over there drinking it all down with a good ole boy before the money's even in their pockets.
With each drawl of the other man's deep voice followed by Sam's laugh, Dean grows more incensed, viciously shooting balls into pockets with dead-on accuracy, barely even paying attention to the game in front of him, so consumed is he by what's happening between his brother and Mr. Wonderful there at the bar. Dean sinks the eight-ball and takes the money off the table, stuffing it in his pocket.
The other man grunts out, "Double or nuttin?" and Dean nods distractedly.
The man's voice carries across the room to Dean's ears and Sam's laugh rings out again, making Dean grit his teeth, quaking with bottled up anger.
Frigging wonderful.
*
They'd been staying close to the motel since last night when they'd had Sam's spanking session. All day today, they'd stayed in bed, shutting out the world around them, just holding each other, touching each other.
They'd made love, tenderly, passionately, Dean being extra gentle because of Sam's bruises and Sam...well, Sam was just like he used to be, before the psychic shit, before Ruby. His hero-worship, his adoration of his big brother shone out of his face and he was in a playful mood, laughing easily, making jokes, trying to get Dean to smile, and taking such pleasure in finally gaining a deep rumbling chuckle from his brother's chest.
They'd cuddled, showered, ate and cuddled some more, taking their time, getting to know each other again now that Sam's crap was out of the way, getting their fill of each other. Toward evening, Dean mentioned they needed to make some money before they could move onto the next hunt. They played rock, paper, scissors to see who'd do the hustling and Sam had won, rubbing it in that Dean always took the wrong choice, chiding his brother until Dean smacked him hard on his still red and bruised ass, making Sam yelp in pain. That had shut Sam up real quick.
They'd dressed and driven to a nearby bar where Sam took up residence atop a bar stool, laptop open in front of him, watching Dean with loving eyes. Every time Dean turned to look at him, Sam would let his eyes run suggestively over Dean's body, licking his lips while undressing Dean with his eyes. Dean walked around the pool table, a stupid smile plastered on his face and when Sam took a swig of beer, mouthing the bottle like it was Dean's dick or something, Dean almost drooled, instantly aroused, his erection poking up for anyone to see. He narrowed his eyes at Sam who smiled sweetly back.
Dean walked up to his brother, bending his head down to Sam's ear and whispered sensuously, "Stop looking at me like that, Sammy, or I'm gonna take you in the bathroom, drop your pants, bend you over in one of those stalls and take you right there..."
Sam made a strangled noise in his throat, his cheeks flushed scarlet and he stared back at Dean, eyes hot with lust, speechless at the image Dean just put into his head.
Dean grinned at him wickedly and, pressing closer, grabbed Sam's crotch, hiding his hand from view and squeezing tightly. Sam jerked, almost falling off his stool and Dean nonchalantly walked back to the pool table, taking his turn as though nothing had happened.
And then the cowboy had come in, all dressed in black, Stetson pulled low on his head, and scooted onto the stool next to Sam, nodding at him in the dim light. Sam had smiled back, said hello and the next thing Dean knew, they were shooting the shit, Sam talking and laughing with the dude, and Dean was no longer the sole object of Sam's attention.
Which didn't sit too well with Dean.
*
For the past hour, Dean's had to listen to the idiot's freaking grating voice, a fake drawl if he ever heard one, and Sam's incessant laugh. Sam's laptop is back in the Impala and he's enraptured with the stories the cowboy is telling. Truth be told, everyone in the bar is listening but Sam's the one Dean's focused on, his brother's eyes never leaving the guy's face and every time the dude tells a joke, he slaps Sam on the back, laughing up a storm. Sam's giving the jerk all his attention, being regaled with stories of the good old days and looking like he's hit the jackpot, asking questions and making comments. Dean walked behind Sam, close enough to touch him, putting his beer down on the bar in front of his brother and Sam barely glanced at him, making Dean feel as about important as a fly on the wall.
Frigging wonderful.
Dean's wad of cash is huge and the men he's been beating at pool are starting to rumble about pool sharks and hustling so it's about time they leave. He tries to motion to Sam but his brother isn't looking anywhere near him, nope, he only has eyes for the Stetson, the jerk. Dean puts on his coat and looks over hopefully. Nope, Sam still isn't watching. With an exasperated sigh, Dean approaches Sam, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Just wait till he gets Sam alone...they're going to have a little talk about paying attention.
Dean sees the cowboy suddenly reach toward Sam, saying, "Kiss you..."
Son of a bitch! Dean's temper, stretched to a thin wire, snaps like a dry twig.
Before he even knows what he's going to do, Dean's yanked the bastard off the bar stool, fist slamming into the guy's laughing mouth, the Stetson flying backwards in the air.
Yeah, laugh it up, asshole!
The guy goes down and Dean's right on top of him, punching the bitch's jaw, smashing his head back onto the floor. He feels arms around him, pulling him off and he stomps on the guy's legs for good measure, getting in some good kicks before Sam manages to drag him off.
"Dean, what the fuck!"
Once Dean gets his feet under him, he shoves Sam to one side and goes back after the guy, who's being hefted off the floor by a couple of patrons. He swings low, lifting the guy off his feet with a good punch to the stomach just before Sam wraps himself around Dean, pinning Dean's arms to his sides and dragging him backwards.
The bartender is screaming at them he's gonna call the cops, Lover Boy's mouth is all bloody and he's bent over, holding his stomach, trying to breathe and everyone in the bar is staring at them like they're lunatics.
"Get that bastard outta my bar! And don't come back!" The chewed on cigar in the owner's mouth moves up and down as he yells at Sam.
"We're going" Sam huffs out, bodily picking up his brother and swinging him around towards the door, with Dean snarling, "Get off me, Sam!", fighting to get loose.
Dean feels Sam's arms tighten around him as he fights to free himself, his brother's grip like a vise around his upper body and Dean can barely breathe with the pressure Sam's putting on his chest. Dean makes his body limp, dead weight and Sam almost drops him.
"Oh, you jerk!" Sam breathes into his ear and hefts him up, dragging Dean backwards past the bar and out the door, barely able to keep his grip cause Dean's dragging his feet now, scraping his heels so Sam has to work harder to move him.
Sam pushes Dean through the door and over to the Impala, shoving his brother face down on hood of the car, Sam laying his body weight on top of the now struggling, wriggling Dean.
"Dean, stop!" Sam breathes noisily in his ear, exertion making him pant.
"Lemme go!" Dean kicks out at his brother's legs, making contact with a shin and Sam grunts in pain.
"Son of a bitch! What the fuck's wrong with you?"
"He was hitting on you!"
"That guy? No, he wasn't, Dean!"
"Yes he was, jerk! He said he wanted to kiss you! I heard him! What do you think, I'm an idiot?"
Sam is silent on top of him and Dean feels his brother shaking like he's having some sort of fit. He cranes his neck to look at Sam's face and the son of a bitch is fucking laughing, holding it in, looking like he's gonna burst a blood vessel or something, his cheeks bright red and his eyes shut tight.
"What's so fucking funny?" Dean demands, shoving backwards with an elbow, digging into Sam's gut.
"Ow! Dean!" Sam takes a deep breath, trying to stop the belly laugh that's racking his body, "He asked me for a tissue, not a kiss, you idiot!"
"A tissue?" Dean scowls at his brother, thinking furiously back to what the guy actually said and then, giving Sam a sickly grin, "Oh...well, why didn't you say so?"
Sam gets up, letting Dean loose and stares at his brother, shaking his head, "Dean, you gotta stop being so jealous! You don't need to worry! I only want you, ok? Please, man!"
Dean looks down at the ground, scuffing it lightly with one foot and rubbing the tension out of the back of his neck, admitting uncomfortably, "I know, Sam. I just can't help it. You'd feel the same if it was me."
"No, Dean, I wouldn't. Because I don't worry about that kind of stuff."
Dean scoffs, "Yeah, right. Only 'cause it hasn't happened yet."
"No. It's because I trust you. And you should trust me."
"Trust has nothing to do with it. You don't know what you're talking about. Believe me, if the situation was reversed and I was the one getting hit on and you were watching, you'd drive yourself crazy with it, too."
Sam shakes his head, certainty in his voice, "No, I wouldn't, Dean."
"You think so?"
"I know so. Because I know you love me. I don't have to be jealous."
Dean's eyes sparkle with a challenge, "Right. Let's go back in. I'll pick somebody up and you get to watch this time. Then, we'll see."
Sam's voice stops Dean from walking back into the joint, "We can't go back in there, Dean, they kicked us out. In fact, I'm pretty sure the cops are on the way so we better get out of here."
"Shit!" Dean rounds the car, hopping in the Impala and taking off as soon as Sam jumps in. Dean peels out of the driveway, stomping on the gas to get them out of there quick.
"Sammy, we're gonna find another place and we're gonna do a little experiment, see if we can get you to be just a little jealous."
"Fine. But it's not gonna happen. I don't get jealous, Dean."
"We'll see."
*