A/N: Woop woop, enjoy! This one is long, yay!
Inconsequential side note: hip-hop + ballet = a whole load of badassery.
Warning: language, sexual themes and a batshit scary Dean, violence and heavier sexual incidences for later chapters.
Disclaimer: YES, I OWN SUPERNATURAL. THAT'S WHY WINCEST IS EVIDENT WITH BOTH DEAN AND SAM HAVING SEXY MANSEX EVERY FUCKING EPISODE. (Pfft, ignore me; just being a smartass.)
xXx
Ch. 5: W2GD2WFA/ODS, Pt. 2
(Sam)
Sam gnawed relentlessly at his lower lip, his hands tightening and loosening around his keys. He stood before his jointly-shared apartment complex with a nervous tension settling on his shoulders. To simply say, he was scared shitless…of Dean. He'd vanished from the Strip Rose Pandemonium without even notifying Dean with a girl he didn't even know to find a fugitive werewolf. And then after once he did happen to find the renegade—which Sam didn't have enough sense to inform Dean of—he proceeded to leave—oh yes, with the random girl alongside; what a wonderful plus!—with him to attack the fashion scene of Boston so they could remodel Sam to educe some sort of response in Dean's jeans. On the outside, Sam, disagreed with every aspect and consideration mantling this subject, but somewhere in his heart he was thankful for these two lunatics. Whenever confronted, however, he'd oppose it with the any bit of contradictory he could muster; it was simply too embarrassing to openly submit to their intentions.
Hesitantly, Sam unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open, the warmth of the house rivaling with the cold night of outside. He'd been gone since he'd left with Atticus and Natalie around eight and had been with them to the present time of nine at night, thinking not once about calling Dean to inform him of his location or at least assure him that he was alright and hadn't been decapitated.
"Hello…?" Sam called into the black of the house, voice almost wavering from trepidation. Swallowing thickly, he flicked on a light only to yell in surprise when he found Dean sitting in John's taco chair (every Tuesday John ate Taco Bell and got very drunk, thus proceeding to act utterly infantile and extremely bitchy) with an unreadable expression. Sam had rather him looking angry than not looking like anything at all; it made things all the more terrifying.
"Hey Dean," Sam ventured, clearing his throat nervously. "As you can see, I'm alive—"
"Where were you Samuel?" Dean asked, tilting his head to one side though his expressions didn't vacillate in any form of consideration.
Sam swallowed again; Dean hadn't called him Sammy, in fact, he'd called him by his full name. Sam was in much deeper shit than he could've ever imagined.
"J-just out with some friends, why?" Sam asked, inwardly curing his voice for breaking.
"Samuel, I don't believe you understand the situation," Dean said, shaking his head and leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees and his hands dangled loosely between his legs. "For two hours I searched that club high and low for my darling little brother of whom I thought had been somehow kidnapped. Do you know how fucking terrified I was that you might be dead?" For a slight moment Dean's cold demeanor broke and a spark of hurt flashed across his face before being devoured by empty emotion. Regaining his leverage, he continued, "Anyway, it was unacceptable."
"Well I'm okay now," Sam said weakly, cringing away from Dean's voice. "So…no need to worry," his heart thudded in his chest and his hands were covered in a cold sweat; never before had he seen Dean like this. No. This was not Dean—Dean was never this…inhuman. Vision swimming like the coward he was, Sam looked up fearfully at Dean. "What's wrong with you, Dean?"
Dean flinched, his original, demonic self cracking under the realization that he was scaring the shit out of Sam. "Sam," he stood and tightened his jaw as Sam took a step back away from him. Saying nothing, he grabbed Sam's arm and pulled him into a fierce, protective hug. "Sorry," he murmured gruffly into Sam's ear. "I was just…That scared the living fuck out of me, kid; you suddenly vanishing, I mean. God, I thought you'd been kidnapped. I thought I lost you, Sam," Dean's grip on the taller but much younger male tautened but was at the same time gentle and even a bit desperate. Sam relaxed; there was the Dean he knew.
"It's okay, Dean. Just…Don't freak out that badly; give it a day or two to see if I'm actually dead." Sam laughed nervously, squirming a bit. "However, I really should've called you, so…sorry about that one,"
Dean took Sam's fidgeting the wrong way and let him go, though still holding him an arm length away from him. Sam wanted Dean to hold him like that again, but despite his disappointment he said nothing concerning it. "Agreed. Where were you, really, anyway?"
"Uhm…Just…hanging out with some friends," Sam said, shrugging. Telling Dean that he was hanging out with Atticus Boon (and some random girl) probably wasn't the best of ideas considering Dean's former reaction.
"Oh," Dean said, shrugging and letting Sam go. "Uh, I made dinner,"
A wide smile spread across Sam's lips at Dean's generosity. "Seriously? That's great!"
"Ooh, don't get too excited," Dean muttered, leading them both to the kitchen.
"Why—" Sam was immediately cut short when he registered the current nature of their kitchen, or what used to be the kitchen. Flour and other food items coated the walls while the counter tops were painted with long strips of burnt matter, and Sam couldn't fathom the present state of the stove and the floor—Sam didn't dare look at it. Sam closed his eyes with a sigh, not even having to say anything as Dean answered for him, "Pancakes. I, uh…I, uhm, wanted to make breakfast for dinner. You know, 'cause you…like that…kind of…thing?"
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Remind me to never—ever—in the whole realm of time thus forth—let you cook. No, never even allow you to ever step foot in the kitchen again. You—words can't even describe your methods of cooking, Dean,"
"Take out?"
"I thought you'd never ask,"
ooOoo
Atticus threw his head back and cackled wildly, Natalie clapping her hands in appreciation while rendered silent from her laughing. Sam gave them both a moment to regain themselves after having told them the wonderful tale of how Dean was forever banned from even stepping foot into the kitchen since the incident the night previous.
"Oh—oh my god," Atticus gasped, leaning against a wall with a hand over his heart with a sigh. "Whew! Damn, I haven't laughed that hard in years. Ha, that was golden,"
"I hear ya!" Natalie cried, holding her hand up. "My god, that was beautiful. Never would one think that the infamous Dean would be that bad of a cook,"
"Or a shitty cook in general,"
"Oh yes, that is very true,"
"Why do you guys keep on going on about how infamous my brother is? How do you even know him?" Sam demanded, scowling.
Atticus raised a brow and shot Natalie a look, who replied to it with an analogous motion and a shrug. This merely infuriated Sam. "What the fuck is so serious that you can't tell me?"
"We're going to leave that between you two," Natalie finally replied before jumping off of the top of a trashcan. Atticus nodded as well and followed after from his position on a parallel trash bin. "Now, we have a Dean to make horny. Make over!"
Sam cringed; the hour of his demise had tolled its hideous bell. He'd be lucky just to come out alive, which made the ominous experience drifting inches within reach all the more horrifying.
"Do we really have to do this?" Sam pleaded.
"Yup," Natalie answered, yanking down Sam's arm to hook her own around his shoulders. "It won't be too bad. We made sure to have Gabe distract Dean so we could wipe out and refill your closet and also have time to make you irresistible."
"Dear god, this is going to be a disaster," Sam whined, pushing the hair out of his face with distressed fluctuation. "Wait, how do you know Gabriel?" Sam asked, shooting a look to Natalie.
"I don't," Natalie replied unhelpfully.
"It doesn't matter; this id going to be bloody amazing," Atticus deviated, resting an elbow on Sam's shoulder opposite of Natalie. At first, Sam thought Atticus' accent was sexy as hell, but as he realized what an evil bastard he was, the thought lost its luster. (He still thought Scottish accents were still hot though.) "Equally as it will be a nightmare to your pride,"
"Atty! For shame! We won't be that bad," Natalie countered, putting unnecessary stress on the word. As both evil doers spoke, they directed Sam out of Atticus' foul smelling hide out—both Natalie and Sam were very quick to adjust to the stench if they wanted to meet anywhere with Atticus—while still keeping a loose grip on Sam, chattering away on their plan. Sam blocked them out completely, not wanting to hear them speaking of his death. God, this was going to be horrible.
ooOoo
"No. No, fuck to the motherfuck no! There is no way in motherfucking hell that I am going to wear that!" Sam yelled, jabbing a finger accusingly at the pair of extremely short shorts and tank top Atticus and Natalie had prepared for Sam.
"Aye, aye, aye, we got it! Calm down, lad," Atticus said, throwing his palms up in defense.
"Shh, Sam, it's okay. We've got other things for you to wear." Natalie said, stroking Sam's arm soothingly.
"That does not reassure me at all," Sam groaned, sitting down on his bed. "Let's just get this over with already,"
xXx
(Dean)
Dean sighed and leaned back into the seat of Gabriel's car, trying his best not to reach over and slit the dipshit's throat. Since late the night before, shortly after Sam went to sleep, Gabriel appeared and dragged Dean off to some bar so that Dean could get drunk. (John was busy with the case, and had promised them so from time being that their schedule was likely to get very messy and very bloody very soon.) This lasted for a good few hours until Dean sobered up, which once done Gabriel then forced him in accompaniment to some random ass girl's eighteenth birthday party and having to make pointless conversation with some girl while Gabriel and the birthday girl did whatever upstairs (i.e. had sex). The girl was nice enough, though Dean had much rather been talking and flirting with Sam than her. Dean scowled at this thought; talking, yes, though flirting?
Dean sighed again at his stupidity; he had unknowingly fallen in love with Sam. How could he be so fucking stupid? For one thing, he was a vampire and Sam was a hunter. He'd live forever while Sam couldn't, or have his life being shortened by possibly Sam or even John if it came to it. Not only that, Sam thought Dean was his older brother, and therefore would be impossible for him to be comfortable with Dean's feelings. In the long run, Dean was going to end up heartbroken no matter what he did. Fucking great; there was a reason Dean had built a wall around himself. Emotions only brought him down, made him hurt. And this—god, now that he thought about it, he was head over heels in love with Sam, and no matter what he did, Sam was very unlikely to ever love him back as much as Dean did him. Stupid Dean; there was a reason he was never supposed to feel.
"You okay man?" Gabriel asked, grinning widely at Dean. The idiot's giddiness only made Dean more irked.
"Other than trying to suppress the urge to make your car into a homicidal scene with you as the victim? Yeah, I'm perfectly fine." Dean growled sarcastically.
"Oh cheer up, bro," Gabriel said, pushing Dean's shoulder before digging into the glove compartment for a lollipop. Finding one, he uncovered it and popped it into his mouth. "You'll thank me later,"
Dean raised a brow at this but said nothing. Gabriel was absolutely capricious, such so to where he was even humming quietly to himself. Finally unable to take it, Dean confronted him. "Why the fuck are you so happy?"
"Ooh, you'll find out," Gabriel replied mirthfully.
"You know that only makes me more nervous?" Dean asked, sighing once more. "Damn, I hope you're not pranking me." Dean muttered. He had a feeling this was the case, but normally when Gabriel pranked him, he was a bit more obscure.
Finally Gabriel pulled into the driveway of Dean's apartment, grinning from ear to ear. "This will be great," he murmured to himself, causing Dean to become even more apprehensive.
"Dear god, this must be a pretty good prank if you're coming at the seams," Dean muttered, kicking the sticky door—Gabriel refused to get a new car until his reached to the point of no return—to Gabriel's car open.
"That's what she said," Gabriel cackled and Dean couldn't help but chuckle as well.
"I'm scared," Dean said as he unlocked the apartment. "What the fuck are you planning behind this door, Gabriel?"
Gabriel coughed radically in an attempt to poorly hide a "that's what she said." Clearing his throat and patting his chest, Gabriel smiled sweetly at Dean. "Sorry, I have a bit of a—ahem—cough."
"Oh shut the fuck up," Dean yelled, pushing Gabriel's shoulder as he opened the door. "Sam?" He called. "I'm home. FYI, Gabriel's with me,"
"I'm in the kitchen trying to clean up the hurricane that wrought havoc on it last night, you dick!" Sam replied from the kitchen.
"Don't," Dean said, shooting a look at Gabriel.
"Whatever do you mean?" Gabriel asked innocently. "That's simply what he said,"
"You clever asshole!" Dean shouted, kicking his friend softly in the shin. Gabriel merely laughed at this and followed Dean to the kitchen to find Sam in a pair of skin tight jeans and tank top leaning over and trying to clean the floor. His back was turned to Dean, giving him a perfect view of his ass. Dean stopped dead in his tracks, immediately becoming hard at the sight of it, provocative images flooding his mind mercilessly.
Sam threw his hair back and out of his face as he straightened, raising a brow at the both of them. "What?"
Dean cleared his throat and scratched his jaw, shaking his head. "Nothing, nothing. Ahem, uhm…So, how's the cleaning going?" Fuck, everything Sam was doing—and what he was wearing didn't help at all—was making him want to murder whoever the hell made pants. It took everything in Dean not to walk over to Sam, drape him over his shoulder, and lock them both in a room so he could get rid of his hard on. Now he knew why Gabriel was in such a high mood—he must've known that Sam had changed up his wardrobe and waited to find him cleaning so that Dean would walk in and not be able to do anything. The fucker was dickwhipping him.
"Fine. Don't come in; you're banned, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember," Dean said, clearing his throat again. "Ahem, sorry, my throat's a little dry,"
Sam quirked a brow but said nothing to this. "Uh, we'll be watching TV. Call us when you're done so we can go get Mickey D's or something. John promised hell tomorrow, so I thought you might need some junk food to settle you beforehand," Dean said, pushing Gabriel into the living room before he could make any snarky comments. Once safely there, Dean dragged his friend to the floor and began playfully punching his arms and chest.
"You conniving ass!" He hissed, punching Gabriel's shoulder. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?"
Gabriel simply laughed and tossed Dean off of him. "I don't know, did I?" He grabbed Dean's shoulder and flipped him over his back.
From the floor, Dean grabbed Gabriel's ankle and hauled him down alongside him before snapping to his feet and sitting on his chest. "What the fuck ever, bitch. I will get you back so fucking hard,"
"Ha! I'd looove to see you try! King of pranksters, 'member? Now get off; unless…Hey, I'm hungry for a lollipop Dean; do you have one for me?" Gabriel smacked his lips and bucked his hips up teasingly against Dean.
"Gah, fuck no!" Dean retorted, hopping off of Gabriel as if he were some disease. "You have Castiel for that!"
"Bluh, he won't if I begged," Gabriel said with a roll of his eyes.
"You've asked him?" Dean said, smirking.
"Shut up, dick wagon!"
"Nah," Dean said, grinning. "I like terrorizing you; it's fun,"
"Fuckface,"
"Bitch,"
"Leech,"
"Daddy's boy,"
"Fuck you! Damn, I guess you win this one, De," Gabriel said with a sigh, folding his arms behind his head like a pillow.
"'De?' Since when were you two all buddy-buddy?" Sam asked, standing at the entrance of the living room, frowning deeply. "I thought you hated him?" Sam turned his confused look to Dean. Dean melted under the look; Sam was practically pouting, and like fuck did that work well with his restraint.
Gabriel gaped, hurt, at Dean. "De! You hate me?" Gabriel flipped over onto his stomach and fake-wept. "I thought we had something special, man!"
"Shut up, you whiny bitch," Dean growled, giving Gabriel a kick, which only made the imbecile wail louder. "Yeah, I was forced into a couple of cases with him. He's more…unproblematic now that I've gotten used to his bitchiness."
"No! Just leave me alone, Dean! …Wait. Hey, I am not a bitch!"
"Tell that to yourself, bitchfuck," Dean snapped, kicking Gabriel again.
"Sammy, Dean's being mean! Mean Dean, mean Dean!" Gabriel howled.
"Dean, leave him alone," Sam said with a sigh.
"Yay! See, Dean? Sam loves me!" Gabriel cried, spinning over and rapidly kneeing Dean in the nuts. Dean yelled in pain and fell over, gripping his crotch while Sam and Gabriel laughed at him. This was answered with a little bird flying high in the air to the both of them, which quieted them a bit.
"Uhm, you want to go to McDonalds with us, Gabriel?" Sam asked. "You know, 'cause apparently things are going to get hectic tomorrow?"
"Why yes, yes I do!" Gabriel said happily, bouncing onto his feet.
"I hate you," Dean mouthed to Gabriel as he turned and kneeled down beside him, grinning.
"I love me too," Gabriel whispered, patting Dean's cheek.
"Come on you guys," Sam yelled. "Stop instigating each other,"
"Yes Dean, come on!" Gabriel giggled then said in a lower voice that only Dean could hear. "I want you to watch me stuff my face while you can't eat any of it," He grinned; Dean's diet was primarily blood based, though it didn't exclude the fact that before he'd met Sam, he'd tried it and liked it, and as far as Sam knew, he was an extreme health nut. If he suddenly started eating Mickey D's, questions would arise, and to save confusion, Dean kept Sam in the low.
"Hey Gabe," Dean rasped, motioning for him to move closer. "Come here, I have something to tell you,"
"Promise you won't smack me?"
Dean nodded and continued to motion for him until finally settling Gabriel enough to lean in so Dean could press his lips to his ear, cockish smile fucking with his lips.
"That's what she said,"
xXx
A/N: Oh shit son! This story is so much fun to write, you have no idea. Till next time! HAHA! I GAVE YOU PEOPLE THREE CHAPTERS ALL AT ONCE! AREN'T I A NICE AUTHOR? (Plus something else, which you might love me for. Not telling you what is though!)
Oh yes, important! I need some help on thinking of some ways to torture Dean and maybe Sam too if you want that. Comment your ideas and who you want to come up with it: Atticus, Natalie, or Gabriel! (Or a combination; fluck, I don't know! Just as long as it coagulates well with the plot…which….you don't know about; I don't know, you'll see if or when approved!)
Ah yes, reviews are love! (My 'v' key is starting to stick, glob darn… Wait, why the 'v' key? It's a damn 'v' key, glob dammit! I am justifiably confused.) Anywho.
Later 'nanner alligators! Review, please? I'll give you more chapters at once?
-Beefie