To G-P-Panda, I got your request and I will fill it once I do some research.
To everyone else, please excuse my absence, I'm trying to get my food stamps renewed for next year, work out a deal with the electric company so they don't turn it off, the gas company keeps calling to remind me of my balance and YES I KNOW IT'S OVERDUE! Plus, my shoes are falling apart, literally, and I can't afford new ones.
It's okay, I've got a new WIT chapter in the works so when I have some time, I'll start filling it out. In the meantime, I think I could do with some schmoop.
I do not own nor am I affiliated with Supernatural, WB, CW, Kripke Enterprises, actors, or other affiliates there of. No profit is being made from this.
It was hot.
During the last two weeks of August, there had been mild weather that became downright chilly at night. During the first week of September, the weather tried to make up for that unexpected cold spell with sun, heat, and humidity.
Sam hated heat. He ran hot enough as it was, he didn't need additional warmth. Heat caused him to sweat. It wasn't as if sweat bothered him all that much, when he was running, working out, having incredible sex with his brother, it was unavoidable, he didn't really mind it then. However, when he was just sitting at home, minding his own business, sweating was annoying. Feeling hot was annoying. Having to walk around or go jogging in nothing but a beat up old pair of shorts was annoying. Of course, that last bit could be because whenever he did go jogging in his shorts, every female in the neighborhood, single or not, seemed to take up jogging at that precise instant too and appeared to be searching for a jogging partner and wondered if Sam was interested at all.
Naturally, because the heat bothered Sam so much, it didn't have any affect on Dean at all. Oh sure, Dean got hot, but when Dean hot, he got . . . well . . . hot.
Dean never did shorts, it was a damn shame really, whenever Sam thought of Dean in those tiny shorts he wore when he was pretending to be a gym teacher . . . yeah . . . damn shame.
On hot days, Dean could be found lounging on the back patio in a lawn chair with a beer and a radio. His legs would be stretched in front of him, his jeans hugging his thighs. He would wear a dark short sleeve shirt that would cling to him once it became damp with perspiration. Dean's freckles would be brought into sharp relief, something that Sam loved and never admitted. Sam would sometimes stand at the sliding glass door and just watch his brother, he knew that Dean could feel it, feel him staring, but he would ignore it and it drove Sam crazy,
The worst part of it being hot was at night. The heat would stay and Sam found it impossible to sleep. They had a box fan in the bedroom and it didn't do anything but push around the hot air. Sam would pull off all his clothes and then toss and turn for hours, the blanket and sheet tossed aside, he'd be sweaty and miserable and exhausted.
Dean, of course, slept peacefully, stretched on his side of the bed, all skin and beauty and looking perfectly content in his sleep.
That wasn't to say Dean wasn't suffering too. Since the weather had turned so unbearably hot, Dean had been cut off from sex. Not that Sam didn't want to have sex, he just couldn't. He felt sticky and disgusting and he didn't care how much of a girl it made him sound, he just didn't feel sexually appealing. Admittedly, he had always been a little shyer in the bedroom, with Dean at least (until he lost himself in the moment, or he felt particularly agressive, then all bets were off). After all, Dean had become a something of a god to Sam ever since Dean turned sixteen. He was sex on legs and it didn't matter that he covered any of his insecurities with a cocky attitude, it still worked. Starting up a sexual relationship with him, no matter how experienced Sam had become since he was a kid, he always sort of felt a little inadequate in bed when it came to him and his brother. Oh, he knew he was good, Dean might be a great actor and liar but he'd never pull off the performances he gave in bed, his own body betrayed him. Mostly his problems were he being afraid that he wasn't attractive enough.
Sam could literally punch himself in the face for such insecurity.
He knew he was attractive and he knew that Dean was attracted to him. He especially knew it these days because, since he was walking around half naked, he'd catch Dean watching him more often then not. It was just that Dean was so much more attractive and always had been, at least in Sam's opinion.
Sam loved Dean but he would get irrationally upset over the fact that Dean would walk around in the middle of a heat wave looking delicious and Sam walked around feeling like a wrung out wet towel that was left to dry in the sun in a big lump.
That feeling was not conductive to sex.
So, on the morning of the second week of the September heat wave, when Sam woke from the light doze he'd finally slipped into (out of pure exhaustion) to Dean curling up next him, licking his way from Sam's shoulder to his neck, his hand heading decidedly south, Sam pulled away from him immediately.
"Dude," Dean whined.
"Dean, I feel like crap," Sam stated. "It's too hot for this."
"C'mon man," Dean sighed, "it's been over a week."
"No means no, dude." Sam heaved himself out of bed, hoping for a nice cold shower to cool him off.
"Sammy, I'm gonna die from blue balls," Dean grumbled at Sam's retreating back.
"You can't die from that, Dean," Sam returned over his shoulder. "Take a cold shower, you'll be fine. You just have to wait until I'm done first."
Dean never did give up easily. He backed Sam against the kitchen counter later that day. Sam, rather impressively, ducked under Dean's arm and walked away.
When Sam went to the back yard the next day to give his dog, Kodak, a bath in a small plastic tub he bought, Dean crawled up behind him and tried the same maneuver he'd done in bed the day before. Sam splashed him with soapy dog water while admonishing Dean for trying to fuck him in the yard. Dean sprayed him with the hose and answered Sam's glare with a suggestion that they go somewhere more private and get out of their wet clothes. Sam ignored him for the rest of the day.
Sam kept waking up with Dean trying to rut against him in bed, at which point Sam would go sleep on the couch telling Dean that he had a right hand and to use it if he was that desperate.
While Sam appreciated the fact that his brother found him desirable, even when he was sweaty and disheveled, it was just too hot for Sam to be close to him.
That weekend, Sam came home to find Dean installing an air conditioner in the bedroom window.
Sam blinked at the unit in surprise, "You bought an air conditioner."
Dean rolled his eyes, "You've always been quick to spot the obvious, Sammy."
"You always said they were a waste of money, Dean." Sam pointed out.
"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged, "it's either this or waiting until Christmas to get laid. I just ain't got that kinda patience, man."
Sam felt a smile tug at his lips as Dean plugged in the unit and turned it on. Cool air flowed from it and it felt blissful.
"There," Dean nodded in satisfaction before Dean turned back to his brother, "Now . . . oh no . . ."
"What?" Sam asked, eyebrows rose.
Dean made a face, "You're doin' that . . . that doe eyed thing."
Sam feigned innocence, "What doe eyed thing?"
"Y'know what I'm talking about," Dean grunted, "all like . . . besotted."
Sam laughed, "Besotted? Again with the big words Dean, next thing you know you'll accuse me of being smitten."
Dean huffed and made to leave the room when Sam put a hand against his chest.
"You really wanna leave now, Dean?" Sam practically purred, "Or you want me to show you how besotted and grateful I am for this air conditioner you got for me?"
Dean rolled his eyes again but didn't resist as Sam pushed him backwards onto the mattress.
"I didn't do it just for you, y'know." Dean defended even as Sam crawled on top of him.
"Uh-huh," Sam mumbled, nipping at Dean's throat.
"It has been a little too warm lately," Dean continued as Sam pulled off his shirt and began to kiss his way down Dean's chest.
"Mm-yeah," Sam breathed making his way down to Dean's belt. Normally he'd spend more time on foreplay but it had been a very long two weeks.
"It's a good enough investment for next summer," Dean reasoned as Sam unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.
"Besides -" Dean's breath hitched a little as Sam reached into his boxer briefs, his fingers curling around Dean's quickly hardening cock.
"Dean?" Sam asked, yanking down his brother's jeans and underwear just enough to free his trapped manhood.
"Yeah?" Dean said on a gasp.
"Shut up," Sam said right before he swallowed his brother's dick.
"Fuck," was the last coherent word Dean spoke for a very long time that day.
Sam had an incredible night's sleep that night.