#Wincestwritingchallenge

[cleighwrites]

Let’s Compromise

SPN Fanfic

Characters - Sam x Dean (Wincest)

Summary - Dean compromises with Sam to get him to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre with him 

Word Count - 774

A/N - This was written for the @wincestwritingchallenge for December round 25 the theme is Classic Horror Movies and my partner is @orgiesandpie. This part fills my Free Space square on my @spnkinkbingo card, we can call it Teasing. Assisted by my second wifey, @super-fan-of-all-things (I’ve never actually seen TCM!) 

Warnings - Teasing, kinky fluff, mentions of the sound of chainsaws

“Really Dean?” Sam had had his fill of horror movies to last him until the end of time, but his big brother just couldn’t get enough of them.

“It’s a classic, Sam.” Was Dean’s only response, barely even turning to face him as he came back to reclaim his spot on the couch.

“Yeah, because it’s older than you are,” Sam teased, slipping his legs back under the blanket over top of Dean’s.

“So.” Dean resituated himself and put his hands on his baby brother’s socked feet. “Texas Chainsaw Massacre is an American pastime.”

“If you say so,” Sam relented, knowing full well that Dean was set so far in his ways he couldn’t even make out the sun.

Horror movies weren’t really something Sam was ever interested in. He lived through worse than what any of them could come up with, and he didn’t need to sit through a couple of hours of really terrible effects and far-fetched plot lines, that would never happen in real life. Dean had explained it to him once, that he liked them because they gave him hope; even though people died, the good guys always beat the bad guys. It was what got him through some tough times. Sam could understand that, just not in relation to horribly thought out horror plots.

“Hey, how about we compromise and I make this interesting for you?” Dean was wearing his signature smirk, which either meant that Sam was going to enjoy this, or live to regret it.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Let’s say that every time we hear a chainsaw, we remove an article of clothing.”

“Dean, that’s practically every thirty seconds, why don’t we just strip and get on with it?” Sam rubbed his toes along Dean’s inner thigh to emphasis his point.

“That’s not as fun. Come on,” Dean leaned over to Sam’s side of the sofa and pressed his lips right against the shell of Sam’s ear, “play with me Sammy,” he whispered before nipping at his ear lobe.

Sam swallowed hard and tilted his face to catch Dean’s mouth with his before he could lean back and away from him. Dean allowed him a brief kiss before grinning triumphantly and plopping back in his spot. He resituated himself and settled in to watch his movie. About ten minutes after hearing the chainsaw for the first time, both of them were completely naked, still tucked under the blanket. The next time a chainsaw sounded Dean flicked his wrist and removed the blanket from their bodies.

“Dean!” Sam protested, reaching for where the blanket had landed on the back of the couch. Dean grabbed Sam’s wrist and pulled him so that he was leaning into his side. “Dean, it’s cold. And I’m naked.”

“I know.” Sam could hear the smirk in his brother’s voice, “I can keep you warm.”

Dean’s arm wound around Sam’s shoulders and he started tracing patterns down Sam’s arm with his fingers. Goosebumps spread over Sam’s body and he pressed himself closer into his brother. Dean continued to rub along Sam’s tricep, and Sam decided that two could play at that game. Coming up with his own take on their compromise, he used his new position to his advantage.

Sam splayed his available hand across Dean’s abdomen, gently moving his fingers across the expanse of bare skin that greeted them. Not paying any attention to the movie anymore, Sam slowly stretched his pinkie down Dean’s stomach, past his belly button, and lightly brushed along the slightly ginger forest of hair between his hips. Dean’s abs twitched and Sam watched as his brother’s dick fattened up with the light touches.

Dean’s hand stilled on Sam’s shoulder as Sam traced his finger down the vein of his big brother’s cock. Dean’s breathing got deeper, but he kept his eyes on the TV screen. Sam let his fingers run idly down and around Dean’s balls, tease at his perineum, and trace their way back up to his wet slit. He gathered the pre-come that had leaked out and spread it over his first two fingers, then moved his hand back under Dean’s balls and teased at his puckered hole.

“Alright,” Dean complained, “I can’t concentrate anymore.” He snatched up the remote and shut the TV off. He stood and started to leave the room, but Sam stayed on the couch, smirking to himself. “Well, are you coming, or not?”

Sam laughed as he stood, “Not yet.”

Dean blushed then huffed as he made his way down the hall while Sam followed behind, thinking of how well he was at coming up with compromises with his stubborn big brother.

@amanda-teaches @waywardbaby @impala-dreamer @ericaprice2008 @whimsicalrobots @evansrogerskitten @chloeaacole @mcchubbin @danica-queen-of-hell @holyfuckloueh @wonderfulwinchestersmut @andkatiethings @dean-winchesters-bacon @mogaruke @super-fan-of-all-things @speakinvain @superlightalternateuniverse88 @kittenofdoomage @myxtina @babypink224221 @just-another-busy-fangirl @81mysteriouslyme @brewsthespirit-blog @curly-haired-disaster @closetspngirl @death-unbecomes-you @mrswhozeewhatsis @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @phanslittleplayroom

[winmance]

Show him what he’s missing

Wincest Writing Challenge - Round 18: April 2018 @wincestwritingchallenge

@wxncesters vs @winmance

Prompt : Relationship Milestones - First kiss

Pairing : Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester

Word Count : 1838

Tags : Underage (Sam is 15, Dean 19), jealous Dean, tease Sam

AO3 link

Sam is beautiful.

There’s no other word for Dean to describe him.

At 15, he finally grown up, even if he’s still shorter than Dean, at least for now, and his legs seem to never stop.

His hair grown up too, but while Sam used to put them in front of his face to hide, now, he puts them behind his ear, curling them a little with his fingers each time he does it.

That’s another thing, too. Because Sam, his baby brother who asked for bed time stories and didn’t understand why people would kiss, or why Dean would look at the waitress so much, this innocent and pure little brother, he’s gone. Dead and buried, and Dean didn’t even saw it until it was too late.

Now Sam wears too tight pants, with t shirt that look more like crop than anything else. He bends over every time he can do it, sometimes even when it’s unnecessary. When they practice, he lets out the obscenest moans, and more than once, Dean had to run to the bathroom after their session.

What kind of freak thinks about his brother when he jerks off?

The one that deserves to die, painfully and without any consideration.

He tries to stop, he did. When dad leaves them alone, he goes out and brings as many girls as possible, not carrying that he needs to be drunk to find them slightly attractive. He never really cared about the appearance, but now, all the girls he comes home with have black hair and bleu eyes, because it’s easier to imagine them to be Sam this way.

“You’re going out tonight?” Sam asks, sitting on the chair with one leg under him, and the other hanging up in the air. He’s chewing on his pen, and Dean can’t stop looking at these lips, these sinful pink lips that would looked so good wrapped around – “Dean?”

Dean snapped back to reality, Sam looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“You’re ok?”

“Yeah, sure” He says, taking a beer out of the fridge “and yes, I’m going out tonight”

“Can I come?”

He’s about to say no but when he turns around, Sam is looking at him with his puppies’ eyes, hope readable on his face.

It’s not fair to make Sam pay for something that isn’t his fault. He didn’t choose to have a freak brother like Dean.

“Of course, Sammy” Dean voice is soft, way to soft, but it’s worth it to see the way Sam smiles.

“Cool! I’ll go change”

“You’re great like that”

“No, it’s not good enough” Sam says, already running in the bathroom

Dean sights, letting himself fall on the bed. He can’t drink to much tonight, he’ll have to get Sam back at the motel and he doesn’t want to drive while being drunk with him in the car. That and the fact that he’s not sure he’ll be able to control himself if he has alcohol in his system.

“Come on grandpa” Sam throws a pillow on Dean’s face, making him sit up immediately.

His mind is dizzy but he’s not sure if it’s from raising up to fast or because of Sam.

He’s wearing a short, way too close to his body, his perfect ass looking even more firm and round in it, with a black tank top that move on the side every time Sam does something, reveling his pink nipple.

“You’re gonna wear that?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s freaking hot”

“What?” Dean asks, not sure to have heard correctly what Sam said

“I said it’s hot, outside”

“Oh” Dean sights, rubbing his eyes “Yes, of course. Let’s go ok?”

Sam frowns but doesn’t ask anything, simply follows Dean to the car.

Maybe Dean should have chosen a dinner, or even a restaurant, anything but a freaking bar. They didn’t even checked Sam fake ID, and the second they walked through the door, Dean could see at least ten men looking at Sam with hungry eyes.

“We should go somewhere else”

“What? No, it’s good here” Sam says, already sitting around a table” Look, there’s pizza!”

Dean sights, knowing that he can’t win again him, before sitting too. He’s aware of Sam talking, but he can’t listen to him, not when there’s so many men looking at him- And yeah, maybe no one is really looking at him except for the two men behind them, but it’s already too much for him. How can they look at his brother like he’s just a piece of meat? Can’t they see how much than that Sam is? They don’t know how smart he’s, how big his heart is, how he has dimples when he smiles and the most funny laugh ever.

They don’t know how soft he looks, when he’s looking at the sky, his head next to Dean, telling him is most precious secrets.

“I’m in love with a boy” Sam said one night “But I don’t… He doesn’t like me this way. Won’t ever love me this way”

Dean remembers how his stomach twisted in pain at Sam’s words. He tried to get a name out of him, but Sam washed him out, telling him that he doesn’t know him anyway.

“Dean, are you listening?” Sam asks, looking slightly hurt

“Hum? Yeah, of course”

“You don’t… You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to. I just… I though it would be nice to spend time with you…” Sam says, all his confidence flying away.

Dean bits his bottom lips, hating to see Sam so sad, so defeatist.

“No, Sammy, I love being with you, you know that”

“Really?” Sam eyes are shinning with hope and his dimples are showing

“Yeah, of course I do! You’re my best friend”

Sam smiles even more, and Dean wants to reach out and kiss the hell out of him.

“You’re my best friend too, Dean” He says, his fingers brushing against Dean on the table. Dean swallows hard, trying to be as motionless as possible.

“Hey, could you go and order me a whiskey?”

“A whiskey? Really?”

“Yep. And take whatever you want”

“Alright”

Sam gets up and walks to the counter, and Dean lets out a breath he was holding for way too long. He keeps his eyes on the men that were looking at Sam, not wanting them to walk forward him. Sam is behind him, so he can’t see him, but a few minutes pass by and there’s still no sign of Sam coming back.

He turns around to see another man, probably in his thirties, pressed on the counter as he speaks to Sam.

Sam, who’s looking at the man with his most beautiful smile, blinking is pretty little eyes and laughing his ass of. Dean breaths hard, trying to control himself and to shove the jealousy as far as he can. The man isn’t even hot, what Sam finds him anyway? He’s about to stop watching when he sees San leaning against the counter, his ass even more on display and – It’s that a panty?

He’s up before he can ever think about it, walking forward Sam as fast as he can.

“Hey Dean” Sam says innocently

“We’re out” Dean replies, taking Sam by the arm

“Dude” The man says, apparently pissed that Dean is taking his prey away

“If I was you I would shut the fuck up before someone calls the police and told them that you were flirting with a 15 years boy”

“Dean!” Sam yells, his face full of anger

“Let’s go”

They get out as fast as possible, Dean not carrying even a little that Sam is pissed at him. He lets go of him when the door closed itself, his jaw clenches and his fist tights.

He takes his jacket off before throwing it on Sam.

“You put that on you, right now!”

“I don’t want too!”

“I said now!”

Sam looks at him with so much anger that Dean is surprise it doesn’t kill him right away, but he obliges and puts the jacket on.

This was an attempt to make Sam look a little less attractive, but all it does is making him even more glorious. Seeing Sam in his too big jacket, his eyes full of anger and his jaw clenched, Dean can’t take it anymore.

He pushes Sam against the wall and stops when his face is right in front of him, his arms around his waist.

They don’t move, simply stay here, their bodies pressed against each other and their faces close enough for them to touch, to kiss.

“Why are you doing that?” Dean asks, his forehead against Sam “Why, Sammy?”

“You told me too” Sam voice is so little, so childish, and for the first time in a long time, Dean is able to see his true little brother again

“What?” Dean frowns

“You… You said…” Sam sights “I’m sorry Dean, I thought… I thought wrong”

Dean mind immediately get back to a few months ago, the same night Sam confessed being in love with someone. He remembers how jealous he was, how painful it was, and he’s answer, too.

“Yeah? Well, he’s a fool Sammy, there’s no a single man that would say no to you. You should make him jealous, show him what he’s missing, it always works”

There’s a tear running on Sam’s face and he tries to push Dean away but he’s too weak, or maybe not motivated enough.

“You… You did that for me?” Dean asks, realization hitting him

Sam nods ashamedly, not even looking at Dean anymore.

“All of this? The… The way you dress, how you act, the flirting and all? That was for me?”

“Yes” Sam whispers, sobbing strongly “I’m sorry Dean, I know I’m fucked up, I – “

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Dean presses his lips against his, finally able to touch this mouth he dreams off for the last months. Sam’s lips are as soft as he imagined they would be, maybe even more. Sam doesn’t move at first, but then he opens his mouth, letting Dean tongue slides inside of it.

“Shit” Dean says, panting

“Dean…” Sam whispers, trying to catch Dean mouth again  

“I got you, babe”

They kiss again, and again, before running to the car and back to the motel.

“And you, are you in love?” Sam asked

Dean looked at his 14 years old little brother, the only thing that ever matter in his whole life, before pushing Sam’s hair out of his face.

“Yeah, I think I am. But… It’s not reciprocal”

“Oh” Sam said, unable to hide his disappointment “Winchester luck huh?”

“Yeah” Dean laughed “Something like that I guess”

Sam moved until his head was resting on Dean’s shoulder

“Doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t have been able to love you as much as I do”

“Yeah? Well, same for your man, Sammy” Dean whispered, hugging Sam closer

“Just the two of us against the world”

“Always, Dean”

[lichterin]

Wincest Writing Challenge: Nov 2018 (Round 24) | @lichterin vs. @klove0511 vs. @cinnamonanddean

Prompt: Best and worst kiss

Pairing: Jensen/Jared

Word Count: 3015

Rating: Mature

Summary: “I know...” Ackles muttered into the pillow, eyes closed. “I know we have this whole rivalry thing going on, with you wanting to kill me or whatever. But we both know it’s gonna go down in a fight and not in my sleep, ‘cause despite your kill streak… you’re a fair man, Padalecki. Can I crash on your couch? Thanks.”

Tags/Triggers: Assassin Jared, Serial Killer Jensen, talk about Blood and Violence, Enemies to not-yet-Lovers, Enemy Lovers, kinda non con kissing, Assassin and Serial Killer AU

Read on AO3

[chiliscale]

written for @wincestwritingchallenge

prompt: cursed to constant itching

partner: @puppydeanandjen

pairing: wincest

rating: gen

- this was supposed to be porn but my porn got out of hands and is not done yet, so here´s fluff instead -

“Come on, Sammy!” Dean says and scoots a little closer, carefully trying to peek underneath the sofa. It´s fucking dark down there, but he swears that there´s movement in the far left corner – a small body slowly inching closer, the annoyed twitch of a tail.

He should probably go and get a flash light or something, but dammit, he´s spend the most part of the last two hours trying to back Sam into a corner, and he´s not about to lose him again just because his human night vision sucks.

“I already told you that I´m sorry, so could you please stop moping now? It´s hardly my fault that you – son of a bitch!”

“Seriously, man?” It´s not a deep wound, just the barest hint of blood, but it still fucking hurts. “I´m  trying to help you, goddammit! Stop being a bitch and get your ass outta there, Sam!”

Maybe in your dreams, jerk!

Dean rolls his eyes.

“Sammy, come on – it can´t be that bad! The box said it´s only a temporary curse, a few more hours and you´ll be as good as new!”

How would you know? Sam grumbles, the tip of a fur-covered paw appearing from beneath the sofa. It´s not you who looks like fucking Garfield.

Dean wisely doesn´t say anything as Sam slowly crawls out of his hiding place – one wrong word and he´ll probably get another taste of Sam´s newly acquired claws.

As it turns out, even as a cat Sam is frigging huge. He´s the biggest fucking house-cat Dean has ever seen - all long, glossy fur and huge, angry eyes that stare accusingly up at him.

Also, teeth.

Sam would probably be intimidating if he weren´t so damn cute.

“See?” Dean says placatingly, “What´s the big deal? You look adorable, dude!”

Sam opens his mouth as if to answer him, but then an uncomfortable look crosses his tiny little face and he plops down on his ass, lifts a paw and begins to furiously scratch at his ear.

Dean frowns. “You alright?”

Yes. Sam hisses, his paw moving fast enough that it looks a little blurry. He doesn´t stop scratching, just tilts his head a little and shoots Dean a dirty look. Turns out that I´m fucking allergic to cat hair. My whole body is itching like crazy.

This time, Dean can´t help himself. He doubles over with laughter.

It´s NOT funny. Sam snaps but Dean can hear the reluctant amusement in his voice. Do you have any idea how horrible this is? This is way worse than the itching powder you poured all over my clothes the last time.

“Awesome.” Dean grins and sidesteps the half-hearted attack Sam launches on his leg. “Two pranks in one, pretty sure that means I´ve won this round, Sammy.”

...Not like Sam can top a cursed box that temporarily turns people into animals, anyway...

You wish. Sam scratches a little harder, fur flying everywhere.

Dean watches him for a bit, before finally deciding to take pity on his brother.

“Truce?” He asks, lifting his hands in surrender. “At least until you´re back to two feet again.”

Sam drops his paw and eyes Dean suspiciously. No funny business?

“No funny business.” Dean agrees. “Cross my heart.”

It takes a little more convincing, then Sam finally relents and they curl up on their sofa like they usually do, with Sam sprawled right on top of Dean and Dean´s fingers tangled in his brother´s hair - the only difference being that Sam actually does fit on top of Dean this time.

You and your idiotic prank wars. Sam sighs and plops on Dean´s chest, all forty fucking pounds of him at once. He wiggles around until he´s comfortable, nose buried in Dean´s neck, tail curling around his body.

“Don´t act like you didn´t have fun.” Dean scoffs and runs a hand through his own, short hair. It´s still a little greenish, but Sam has assured him that the color should come off in a day or two.

Mmh, yeah. I got you good, didn´t I? Sam´s purr turns triumphant. Now stop complaining and start petting me, the itching is driving me crazy!

Dean chuckles, buries his hand deep into Sam´s fur, and then begins to scratch, fingers moving in tiny circles all over his back and tummy.

He never really understood why people would want to own a cat, fucking arrogant bastard that they are, but after a few minutes of listening to Sam purr, he has to admit that it´s sort of… nice. Soothing. Part of him could actually get used to this.

I still hate you. Sam mumbles sleepily, the effect slightly ruined by the way he curls deeper into Dean´s chest. And if you make me pee into a litter box, I will fucking kill you, so don´t even think about it.

“I´d never.” Dean says, a little too innocently, and promptly gets a mouth full of cat tail for his troubles.

[sunflowerssammy]

Wincest Writing Challenge: April 2018 | @wxncesters vs @winmance 

Prompt: Relationship Milestones - First Kiss

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester

Word Count: 1725

Summary: Sam and Dean’s first two kisses. 

Rating: Gen

Warnings/Tags: None.

For: @wincestwritingchallenge

May 02, 1983

When Dean woke up in the morning and went to go find his parents, Mommy wasn’t in her room. Neither was Daddy. He frowned as he lifted up the blanket, checking if maybe they were hiding under it to scare him and make him squeal but they weren’t there. He began to get scared, looking around and then heading out of his parents' bedroom to go downstairs. When he saw John pacing around the living room, his fear vanished because he wasn’t all alone. “Daddy,” he said happily as he walked over to take John’s hand and stop him from pacing.

John smiled tiredly and lifted Dean up into his arms. “Hey, buddy. Good morning,” he said gently as the phone that was mounted on the wall in the kitchen began to ring. He carried Dean with him as he answered it, relieved to hear his wife on the end of the line. “Mary,” he started but Dean interrupted him. “Is that Mommy?” He asked happily, leaning his head against John’s shoulder and reaching for the phone which John then handed him.

“Hi, Mommy! Where are you? Why aren’t you home wi’f us?” Dean asked as he giggled, playing with the phone cord and closing his eyes.

“I’m in the hospital, sweetie. Your baby brother’s coming. Can you tell Daddy it’s time?” Mary said as calmly as she could and when Dean squealed at the top of his lungs, she laughed. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Sammy’s coming!” He said excitedly, looking up at his father as John took the phone back and set Dean down.

Dean didn’t mind being set down, just going and running upstairs to get his slip-on shoes on as best he could. He grabbed the stuffed giraffe he had bought for Sammy with his own money, grinning, dimples and all, and walking back down the stairs. He was in flannel pajamas and his hair was a mess but he was more excited than he had ever been.

John smiled at his eldest son, picking him up and walking with him out to the Impala. He got Dean strapped into his car seat in spite of Dean’s excited bouncing and pressed a kiss to his head before he got into the car as well. “Calm down a little, Dean,” he said as he drove off, Dean clearly about to explode with excitement.

When John pulled up to the hospital, he parked, getting Dean out of the car seat and lifting him up but Dean squirmed out of his arms, grabbing the stuffed giraffe and running into the building before John could even blink.

John jogged after him, lifting him up and apologizing to the nurse that he had almost knocked over when chasing after his son. “We’re here for Mary Winchester,” John said calmly when they reached the receptionist.

Dean giggled before the receptionist could answer. “That’s my Mommy! She’s havin’ a baby. ‘m gonna have a little bro’der,” he said happily, letting his head rest back against John’s shoulder as the receptionist congratulated Dean before giving John the room number.

As they headed upstairs to the labor and delivery floor, Dean started bouncing even more in his father’s arms, clearly bursting with excitement. He hugged the giraffe close as they walked into the room, Mary already in the process of pushing.

“John, I told you to make arrangements for him,” Mary said through gritted teeth, the midwife looking up. “He shouldn’t.. He shouldn’t be here for this. That’s why I sent you home. To make arrangements.”

Both John and Mary were worried that Dean may not like his little brother once the attention was taken away from him and placed primarily on Sam. They hoped it wouldn’t come to that but some of their friends' children had begun to despise their siblings from the day they were born and Mary and John could only pray that their little boy would love his little brother.

“Samuel couldn’t take him,” John replied as he moved to pull up a chair near the head of the bed, sitting down with Dean on his lap. Dean leaned to try to see under the fabric that was draped over Mary’s knees but when he saw blood, he ducked his face into John’s chest in fear. “Is Mommy okay?” He mumbled out sadly, Mary reaching to take Dean’s hand and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“Mommy’s okay, baby,” Mary verified breathlessly, dropping Dean’s hand to grip onto John’s in a way that made John think at least three of his bones were broken but also made him relieved that she had dropped Dean’s hand before she had had to push again because she definitely would have broken Dean’s hand.

The next forty minutes went by slowly and quickly at the same time and Dean eventually fell asleep in his father lap, the stuffed giraffe clutched close to his chest. He mumbled something sleepily when there was a little shake to his shoulder before he slowly blinked and opened his eyes. The fabric over Mary’s knees was gone and she was under the blankets, a little swaddled up baby in her arms. It was just the three of them in the room now and Dean woke up pretty quickly when he saw the baby. “Is that Sammy?” He asked excitedly, getting off John’s lap and immediately crawling onto the hospital bed to reach for him. “I wanna hold him!” He exclaimed, waking up the sleeping baby but luckily, Sam didn’t cry, only opening his eyes and looking in Dean’s general direction.

“I wanna hold him, Mommy. Please,” Dean begged, reaching his arms out as Mary scooted over to one side of the small bed. “You can hold him, Dean. Sit crisscrossed next to me and I’m going to hand him to you. You’re going to have to support his head because otherwise, he could get hurt.”

“I will, I will, I will. Please, Mommy, please,” Dean began to beg more, making grabby hands towards his little brother until Mary sat up a little bit and very carefully laid Sam down into Dean’s arms. Dean did as instructed, making sure to support Sam’s head and looking down with him. “I love you,” Dean whispered out, carefully untucking Sam’s arm and placing his index and middle finger into Sam’s tiny hand. Sam curled his fingers around Dean’s fingers, his grip tight as he yawned, mouth forming a tiny little ‘o’. “I love you, Sammy. I’m gonna protect you. No matter what,” he whispered out, his head ducked down so his parents couldn’t hear him and he was just speaking to the beautiful little baby boy in his arms.

“I promise I’m gonna protect you. I’ll do anything to keep you safe. Pinky promise,” Dean whispered out, leaning down to press a short kiss to Sam’s lips, complete with a “mwah” sound, like Mary sometimes did for him before linking Sam’s teeny-tiny pinkie finger with his own. Sam smiled reflexively at him and because Dean didn’t know that it wasn’t a real smile, he grinned back, holding Sam closer to his chest. “I’m always gonna protect him, Mommy. Do you think he knows that?”

“I think he knows that, baby,” Mary said softly, reaching to brush Dean’s messy hair from his eyes and closing her own. It was a relief to her that at least for now, Dean didn’t seem to be jealous of baby Sammy. She could only hope that that loved stayed there between them.

May 02, 2007

“Sam! Look out!” Sam heard Dean yelling, calling his name, but it was too late. As the knife plunged deep into his spine, he felt a searing pain and his legs gave out under him, causing him to drop to his knees. There was pain, searing pain but then Dean was gripping his shirt and tugging Sam against his body and the pain seemed to be gone for just a little while, adrenaline taking over. Sam knew, logically, that he was still in pain but he couldn’t feel it anymore. “Dean,” he breathed out, his body feeling like it was shutting down, like he wasn’t going to live for much longer.

“Sammy, Sammy, hey. Sam, I’ve got you,” Dean breathed out, wrapping his arms around his little brother and holding him as tightly to his body as he could, clinging to him desperately. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, kiddo. It’s going to be okay.” Sam was dying and Dean could feel it and it was like all of his worst fears had come true. It was like his very soul was breaking into pieces. “I’ve got you. I’m here. I’ve gotta protect you. That’s my job, right? Watch out for my pain-in-the-ass little brother?” He breathed out, trying to keep his voice steady but failing miserably as tears started to bubble in his eyes.

When the life left Sam’s body and he went slack against Dean, Dean let out a sob for the first time in years, clinging to his brother like his own life depended on it, like he could bring Sam back from sheer need. “I love you, fuck, Sammy. I love you..” He needed Sam back. “More than I fucking should, too. I’m so sorry. I should’ve found you sooner. I should have told you how I felt. I should have done so many fucking things, Sammy. I failed. I failed, I’m so sorry.” His sobs started coming faster and he sunk to the ground, his baby brother in his arms as he gasped for air. His hands moved to Sam’s face, placing his hands on Sam’s cheeks and pressing his lips to his baby brother’s firmly. Sam’s lips were still warm and Dean let himself imagine for just one second that he wasn't kissing his brother’s lifeless body but that this was what they were, more than brothers. “I love you,” he choked out through sobs when he had pulled away, reaching to push Sam’s hair from his eyes. “I love you.” As he reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes and forced himself up from the ground, Sam’s lifeless body in his arms, he decided that he couldn’t live with himself, with having not done what he had promised so many years ago. He needed to bring Sam back, protect him, no matter the cost. Even if the price to pay was his goddamn soul, it'd be worth it.

[ariannnawinchester]

AU: Stripper!Sam x Businessman!Dean

This was his life. Dancing on the dimly lit stage. Cigar smoke filling his lungs with every inhale he took. The want seated deep in his belly, to belong to a world that would not have him. His heart thirsting after a beautiful man. A man, he simply could not have.

It was his New Year’s resolution. To quit him. His jade eyes too intoxicating to forget just like that. That usually took him two shoots of tequila for things to become hazy enough for him to function. The worst was forgetting the way he touched him. His fingertips burning his flesh wherever he caressed him in the darkness. His sighs tattooed across the invisible bruises. From loving him too hard.

But just like all the resolutions Sam has ever made, he never lived up to them. This instance was none the different. He went running back. Like a goddamn junkie. The moment Dean flung a smile his way, the lick of his tongue across his pouty lips and his name rolling of his tongue. Sam was falling down the rabbit hole again. Fast and hard.

It was supposed to be no strings. No attachments. Nothing. Yet here he was, tangled in a magical web that he couldn’t escape from. If he was being honest, he didn’t really want to.

New Resolution: get Mr Dean Winchester to fall in love with him too.

Flash Challenge: New Year’s Resolutions @wincestwritingchallenge

[be-the-sammy-to-my-dean-blog]

A city of wind

Title: A city of wind

Ship: Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Mentions of rape/non-con, graphic sexual scenes, mild bondage, dom/sub dynamics, stockholm syndrome, physical abuse, graphic injuries, mentions eating disorders

Tags: dom/sub dynamics, ownership, strange sex positions

Summary: Sam meets Dean the powerful Mafia boss of Chicago.

Word Count: 4682

Created for: @spnkinkbingo and the Wincest Writing Challenge round 19

My partner was: @soaringthroughthesky

Prompt: Unusual Sex Positions/Threesome

Dean is a powerful mafia boss. Everyone in the city of Chicago fears him. He has been looking for a toy to keep at home. Someone for him to spoil and take care of. He sent out 2 of his men to find him a man with specific qualities. He wanted a tall man with dark hair and light eyes, younger than him, to be submissive... so submissive. They think they found one, Sam Wesson. Deans pov I looked down at the picture on my desk, he was what I wanted. Tall, thin, pretty, gay, comes from a fucked up life, never had more than 10 bucks to his name, and his job is a security guard for a jewelry store that sells fake diamonds. I should know, after a simple task of killing the owner's wife I wanted to be paid in diamonds. What I got were cheap crystals. Let's just say I let him off easy. I looked up at the two men in the room, and when I met their gaze, they looked down with respect. "Boys, berry, and Ryan. Please go get sam Wesson, don't scare the kid he will need to be drugged, and no harm should come to him if he shows up with so much as a scratch you both will be punished." They nodded in unison and Ryan spoke slowly. "What drug can we use?" I rolled my eyes and kinda laughed. "Just a mild sedative." Both men left, and I sat behind my desk and began to wait for my boy to show up. ~~~~~~~~~~~~time skip 4 hours~~~~~~~~~~~ I hear shuffling and then the sound of my office door opening. And then my boy was dumped onto the floor obviously unconscious. I looked down happily and then up to my men. "Fantastic job boys. The man at the steakhouse owes me one go get yourself a nice dinner." They both smiled and said a quick thank you and left. I looked at the man on the floor. And walked over to him and picked him up. He was surprisingly light. I walked him out of the office and into my bedroom. I laid him on the bed and pulled off his shirt and jeans. He was fat to skinny, his ribs showed, and he looked too pale. He was very poor before this. I dressed him in one of my shirts and then one of my sweats to make sure he was comfortable.he shifted in his sleep on cuddled up to a pillow and moaned and smiled smelling it. I stripped out of my silk suit and laid down next him and wrapped my arms around him. This is what I want. He snuggled into my arms and chest, and I smiled and leaned down and kissed the top of his head before drifting off to sleep myself. I woke up around 3 am and looked down to see my boy still fast asleep, the dose of sedative was small, but due to him being extremely underweight it probably packed more of a punch. I tried to move out of his grasp but a loud whimper escaped his mouth as he tried to cling to me, I watched as his eyes slowly opened and he groaned. He looked around the large, dark bedroom suddenly becoming panicked. He stood up but fell to the floor and pushed himself into a corner. He looked up at met my gaze. "Y-you're Mr.s-s-smith... I'm really sorry sir for whatever I did, I-i amp-poor I have nothing you would we want." He said as his eyes welled up. And his stomach growled. I sighed knowing this was going to happen. "Sam, my name is dean. I know what you have probably heard about me, and I want you to know all the murders, the robberies, the gangs in Chicago are all controlled by me. I'm not mad at you or want anything from you. I've had my men watch you for a while. I learned about you, you live off of food stamps, but they forgot to give you more, you live in a shitty little apartment that the rent is 5 months overdue, you obviously don't have enough money to eat, and you're gay, and your whole family is dead. I also learned that you really like me, Sammy, baby boy, I think you're the prettiest boy ever, and I want you to be mine. With me, you will never go hungry again never have to work again, say you're my boy, and anything you want is yours. I know it's a lot to take in and you may have your own room if you like but-" I was cut off by him practically throwing himself into my arms and clinging to me. He let out a loud sob, and I held him tight. He had failed to notice the 4 guards in my room that started above us not caring about what was happening. I looked up at one and spoke softly to not disturb Sam. "Get the chef to make my boy some food, call the doctor on the oak street he needs medication, and get someone to his apartment to get all of his things out." The guard nodded and walked out of my room ready to take care of everything. "Mr.s-Smith I'm s-sorry I am not respectful. I-I have an anxiety c-condition a-and I ran out of my m-medication a-and I need someone to hold onto r-right n-now." I pulled him up into my chest and smoothed his ruffled hair as he let go and just cried utterly overwhelmed. "Sam you're my boy now okay? I'm going to take good care of you. I want you to tell me when something is wrong and let it out, I'm going to spoil you and make sure you're well fed. And no more Mr. Smith. You can call me whatever you want baby boy, whatever you want." He nodded his head and sniffled as he calmed himself down. "Dean... c-can I call you d-daddy?" I felt my heart swell and knew this is what he wanted. "Sure thing baby boy, sure thing." He looked up when I said yes and smiled a small, lopsided smile. The chef knocked on the door and walked in carrying a tray of bacon, eggs, French toast, and syrup. Sam slowly pulled away from me and sat back up on my bed. I took the plate of food and waved the chef off. I walked the tray over to Sam and sat it down next to him, and his eyes widened in surprise. "I....I-is this a-all form-me?" He asked as his voice shook. I nodded and smiled once he began to eat quickly. Obviously starved. He finished everything in the tray and leaned back on the bed sighing happily. He yawned and crawled over to me and curled up in my lap. This boy is my life now. He soon fell asleep, and I called the doctor in who did some necessary tests. He told me he suffers from other mental illness he handed me his file and left me with his anxiety medication and some mild sleeping pills. I read through the file slowly and kept him sleeping in my arms. 4 failed suicide attempts. Self-harm scars on thighs wrists and stomach. Recovered anorexic. Co-dependent disorder. Separation anxiety. Severe trust issues. My poor baby boy. I thought to myself as he cuddled my chest. I laid down again and pulled the blankets up around us and held him close to my body as he slept.  He is so broken. But he seems to be warming up to me. This will be good; however, tomorrow I have to go kill a guy. It's personal. He beat my new boy up in an alley just 3 days ago. Pretty bad too, my boy didn't even fight back he just took it. He groaned in his sleep and pulled himself further into my arms. I protectively held him and fell back to sleep. When I woke up, it was because my boy was trying to quietly slip out of bed. I looked at him, and he looked at me. "What's wrong baby boy? Do you need something?" He shook his head and looked down at his feet. "W-where is the b-bathroom?" He said while his face turned a bright red. I chuckled and stood and kissed his cheek. I showed him the door, and he thanked me walked in and then walking back out 4 minutes later. He shuffled over to me and kissed my cheek. "Thank you, dean." I smiled and ran a hand through this hair. "No problem baby." I pulled him into a hug but abruptly stopped when he meat out a scream of pain.  I let go and looked at him. His eyes filled with tears again. I gingerly pulled him into a hug and heard one of my guards leave again to fetch a doctor. I slowly peeled his shirt off and gasped at the sight of black and blue ribs. I ran my fingers over the marks, and I grimaced when I felt broken ribs. "Who did this to you." I said my voice deadly and cold. "I ummm, ummm d-dean I-I'm sorry." I pulled my hands away from his body and looked directly into his eyes. "Who. Did. This." His eyes watered more. "M-my ex b-boyfriend. I-I'm sorry." I chuckled a deep laugh. He was going to die. "What is his name baby." I said a statement, not a question. "R-Ross." I ran the pass of my fingers over his ribs again and felt the breaks in his bones. "Why did he do this to you baby?" I asked my voice comforting and assertive. "H-he umm he s-said that I wasn't g-good enough and he d-drugged me, and I barely remember him stomping on m-my ribs." "Okay baby okay, I would never do anything like that to you. I have some anxiety medicine for you, and the doctor is coming to patch you up, and we will get you some pain medicine too. Does that sound good?" He nodded helplessly, and I picked him up. Walking him to my bed and placing him on the thick dark red blanket. He sprawled himself across the bed and groaned trying to find a comfortable position. The doctor walked back into the barely lit room. He now carried a black briefcase presumably full of drugs and other prescriptions. Sam was in a space between sleep and wakefulness. I pulled the doctor aside. "No sedatives, just do what you need to do with his ribs and a mild painkiller would be nice." I spoke my voice void of any emotion. A voice I would never use on sam. He walked to Sam and gently spoke directions at him. Sam obliged quickly and obediently. He sat up wincing as he did so and then pulled his shirt completely off. His beautiful body exposed. His chest was littered with small circular scars that resembled a cigarette, and now his perfect ribs covered in an ugly black and blue bruise. The doctor felt his ribs with gentle hands and then walked back to me. "I'm going to tape his ribs. Make sure he gets plenty of rest and takes these painkillers. Now he can take them on an empty stomach, and he has to take them 2 times a day. He will make a full recovery Mr.smith." I nodded not allowing any of my relief show on my face. Instead, I walked over to Sam and sat on the bed near him. "Hey baby, this doctor is going to tape your ribs up okay? It's going to hurt a little, but I'll be right here." I spoke in a soft voice. Sam nodded and reached out a tentative hand. "Hold my hand?" I pulled his hand to my face and kissed his knuckles. The doctor was fast and productive with his work. Sam squeezed my hand through the whole time. The doctor left in haste and Sam sighed. I pulled the drapes apart to let the early light through the window. The room now lit up made Sam shiver, and I could see why. The walls were a deep red that matched the bed sheets. On one wall a picture of my mother hung, and on the other, an armada of weapons stood on display, my personal favorites were there. Then on the wall with a window picture after picture of people who have helped me stood, proud. A constant reminder that I got here with help. Sam's eyes darted to the four guards. Each easily over 6 2' and easily over two hundred pounds. They all wore the usual expressionless faces. They all had open carry pistols on thigh holsters, and each was holding a rifle in their hands. All were dressed in black suits as well. It was quite a scene. Sam squeaked and whimpered at the sight of it all. I waved my hand in the direction of the guards, and they all left. Each leaving through the white French doors with gold handles. They all stood on the other side ready for an intruder. Sam I looked around the now empty room. I now got to look at Dean, I don't remember much of last night only that I had been taken from my cold apartment and dropped into the waiting arms of a handsome man. I'm not sure what I'd said, however, all I know is that I was being held by dean. I looked at him now, green eyes and pretty freckles. He kept an alpha like stance. Did I mention I was not only dirt fucking poor but also flaming gay? Yeah, that too. I can take a lot I've been raped around 7 times within the past few months. All men. Dean didn't seem like he would do that though. I hadn't noticed the tears that streaked down my face until dean was wiping the tears off my face with the pads of his fingers. "Shhh, Sam," Dean said while pulling my head to his chest and petting my hair and massaging the scalp. My anxiety was a bitch. It always made me feel like I was helpless. But right now I wanted to do was cling to the attractive alpha who was holding me. "Dean, dean I wanna talk," I said through the shake in my voice. He stopped hugging me and. Dropped to sit next to me on the bed. He slid an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his lap. "Yes, baby?" He asked quietly in my ear. "Keep me safe," I said so low I was surprised he heard it. He suddenly jumped up, walking to stand in front of me and pulling his sleeve up to reveal a gold cuff with an M carved into it. "Anyone who is part of my family wears one of these. Anyone outside of my family knows not to touch anyone with these. When I'm with you-you are always safe. You're mine." I reached out and ran my fingers of the warm metal on his bicep. Freckles were even littered down to his elbow. It was a thick band with a lock on the back that I presumed dean had a key too. "I have one for you, with an M on it. Anyone who sees it knows you're a direct belonging to me. This way you can go anywhere, and none will hurt you. Ever." He spoke before clipping a gold band onto my arm and locking it with a key that was hung over his neck. "I'm yours now. Really. Owned. DeanI said while looking at the band. A possessive growl escaped dean. "My fucking boy. Fucking mine. No one else's." He said with a hiss. There is something oddly reassuring about someone being so possessive over you. He ran his fingers over my ribs once again, his face twisting in anger. "I have to tell you something Dean," I said while looking at the ground. "Yes," Dean said while placing a hand on my own clasped ones. "I've... I've been raped. 7 times in the last month. Alleyways, my apartment, and even my job. I tried to fight them off. I did alpha." I said while more tears streamed down my face. Dean stifled an angry yell but pushed his forehead against mine and nodded. Understanding me. "That doesn't change a thing sam, you're mine. What happened to you wasn't your fault, I want you here anyway. I need you here Sam." I nestled myself into his chest, not wanting to be anywhere else. I breathed in, he smelled like spices and whiskey and a scent of something that was sweet. Like perfume, but not, it was just him. I quickly realized that he was shirtless. His perfect abs and beautiful body pressed against my own gross one. How could he possibly be attracted to me? Ever. I'm boney, and he's muscled. He has a beautiful face and mine is sharp in all the wrong places. Yet he still holds me in his arms like I am everything. I rested my cheek against his muscles chest and sighed happily. "Sam" Dean spoke. "Dean," I responded in a half daze. "We need to go over rules while you will be living with me. There just here to keep you safe, and for you to feel protected. Not in any way for me to hurt you. Okay?" Dean mumbled while resting his chin on the top of my head. "What are they?" I asked while closing my eyes slightly. The warmth and safety I was feeling just by being in the presence of dean made me happily sleepy. My arms hung lazily around deans muscled middle and my leg as were splayed around his hips. My half hard length resting against his lower belly. And my head rested against his chest. Deans arms, however, were possessively wrapped around my bare back. "Okay baby. The first and most important rule is to tell me when you feel sad or upset, tell me how you feel when I ask baby boy. The second rule is to tell me when you want to go anywhere and if you want me to go with, and don't lie I wanna make you happy. The third rule is that you remain loyal to me, and only me and when you are ready we will mate, and you will become mine. Those are the only rules sweetheart." Dean spoke in a whiskey-smooth voice while running his fingers through my hair. "Yes dear," I spoke, "I will follow those rules." I settled into dean's arms when suddenly I felt a familiar pain in my lower stomach. Oh god, I guess that after months of being alone I wanted someone. Now. I wanted dean, I knew we wanted me too. I couldn't bring myself to care at this moment because of how safe I felt. But within moments the pain began to hit me like a truck. And I let a long pornographic moan slip from my lips. Dean responded immediately. Deans cock was high and hard within seconds, but he remained still not wanting to do anything until I let him. "Sam-omega..fucken hell. Do you want me to mate you? My gorgeous, beautiful boy." Dean moaned while aggressively nuzzling my hair. My mind was foggy now, just the mere scent of a dean gave me a high, and sitting on his rigid cock pushed me close to the edge. "Dean- I I need you. I want you deep inside me... please I need you, I need this." I said before another embarrassingly loud. Moan. Fuck I wanted him. I wanted him bad. "Sam... ugh sam. Do you really want this?" Dean struggled to faint eh composure to speak. "Yes. Fuck dean. Yes!" I moaned. And ground down on his lap. This feeling was overwhelming. I had never felt like this. Never felt pure want, never felt pure lust. I guess it was because of dean, anyone who saw the man would feel the same. "I have rules when it comes to fucking," Dean spoke while dragging a heavy hand over my thighs. "Yes. What?" I said impatiently while rubbing on his lap. "If you're okay with it. I love tying my bitches down. I love getting you down. To The point where you're mine. And that's it. Remember this area is safe, no one will do anything you don't want. This is all for you. For you to feel good. For you to feel better. I want you to feel fucking safe." Dean finished while rubbing my thighs. "Just get fucking started," I said while looking wantonly into dean's lap. Deans pov I let a growl escape my mouth as I pulled sam over to the next room. I held him bridal style and walked him to the equally large room. This room was my favorite. The room was a deep red similar to my bedroom. On the walls were elegant red curtains and maroon carpets, then there were the toys, the walls were lined with dildos of all sizes. Plastic, silicone, glass, crystal, and even some casts of my cock. Then there was the furniture. If you can even call it that. Cages, couches and a stretcher with leather straps on it. And my personal favorite the fucking bench. It was black leather with straps and had armrests in the front and knee pads as well. But seeing that Sam was pretty new to this, I'm going to keep it simple. But, I know this boy can bend, he's flexible, stunning and everything I've wanted in a bitch. He's hurt I know that, broken ribs and a broken mind. Which is why I've decided to neglect my toys and fun furniture. "Get over here," I said as Sam stood and looked around at the toys in awe. He trotted over to me and practically jumped into my open arms and wrapped his legs around my waist. I dropped him on the bed in the corner. Yes, I don't fuck on my bed, cuddling is fine but fucking a bitch on my bed just doesn't seem sanitary. I care about this one a lot. I want to keep him, and he's never going back to that dark ass hole he called a life. This bed was different, it was stirrups hanging from the ceiling that sam could put his feet into if he wanted. But today I'm thinking of gently stretching him. I want to have him in my lap, but his legs up in the stirrups and his face against my chest. Yeah, I got a bit of a kink for difficult positions. I pulled sams sweats off and his shirt off revealing his taped ribs and thin stature. I pulled my sleep pant off as well as my briefs. I looked at Sam who had the most dilated pupils I have ever seen. He looked at me the way a dog would look at a treat, the way a prisoner would look if he thought of freedom. He looked at me like he wanted me. "Off," I said while lightly tugging on his boxers. He eagerly pulled them off revealing his large leaking cock. He turned 6 shades of red when he saw me staring hungrily at his body. "What?" he said with a small giggle as he tried to use his hands to cover his dick. "you're stunning." I breathed out before grabbing sam and tossing him effortlessly onto the bed. I walked to him and stroked my dick with one hand while I did the same to him. He moaned gorgeously and spread his legs wider. I tugged the stirrups down from the ceiling and looked into sams still heavily lidded eyes. "You put your legs in here. And then you face me and hold onto my shoulders. Your safe word is Impala. Understand?" I instructed while he nodded eagerly. Sam put his feet in the stirrups and sat on my lap, I groaned at his weight on my already throbbing cock. His rested his head on my shoulder and held my shoulders like he had done this a million times. "You want me to prep you or do you want the pain?" I asked while nuzzling into his neck. "Pain," he responded while trying to move his hips on my lap. I moaned and pulled a condom onto my cock and slid in. He let out a hiss of pain, but it soon turned into a moan. His legs on either side of me high in the air with his arms wrapped tightly around me I almost burst looking at him all spread out like this for me. I was on my knees as I started to thrust slowly into his tight hot sex. I started slowly as Sam kept trying to move his legs. "Don't try to move your legs. That's the point of them." I said while looking at his stunning flushed face. I thrust in again deeper this time, and a long moan from sam filled the air. I moved back and groaned in ecstasy at the pure pleasure I was getting. The dark lights in the room complemented his stunning face and body. I moved again then again and began to get a rhythm. I moved back and forth bouncing on my knees. Sam gripped my shoulders harder and drew blood with his blunt nails causing a growl to fall from my lips. "So fucking hot Sam," I whispered into his ear as I continued to move in and out of his tight fluttering hole. "Faster. Faster dean. Fucking give it to me. I wanna feel full, I wanna be full of you, fuck me harder!" He cried out. That was one thing I did not expect from him, I knew he had a dark side but not a deep dark hot mouth like that. I obliged and began to move faster. In and out as his legs bumped up and down in the stirrups. His head pressed firmly against my chest. I continued to move and felt the pain in my lower stomach grow. I want to go to last. I reached in between our bodies and started to pull on his cock in long strokes, his eyes rolled back into his head. A long high pitched moan escaped him, and I did so, and this he clenched as he spurts long white ropes onto his own chest and mine. his hole fluttered as I thrust up and down with no rhythm now and felt him clench as hard as he could, I came hard. Harder than I ever have in my whole life. I saw stars as I moan and shoved my face further into his neck. I pulled out and removed his thin legs from the stirrups and smiled at how pretty he looked now, all fucked out and stunning. He laid on the bed with a smile on his face and his legs still spread wide. I pulled my condom off and painted into the now damp air. I picked his fragile body up[ off the bed. "Are you okay sam? Did I hurt you?" I asked mildly concerned I hurt him when I lost my control towards the end. "That's the best I've ever had." he laughed, and I smiled. "What'd you think about the stirrups?" I asked for a smalls mile. "Interesting, I think my knees are shot for the next few days though," he said with a smile while he pushed himself further into my chest. I chuckled lowly and held him tighter. "shower?" I asked. "Shower." Sam agreed -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- No one thought there could be a love story like Harley Quinn and joker in real life. That was until the city of Chicago met the boss' boy Sam. The most protected boy in the city. Deans pride and joy. His boy. Sam and Dean are the powerful mafia bosses of the city of Chicago. Everyone fears them. And no one dared mess with the baby of Dean Smith.

[cinnamonanddean]

Wincest Writing Challenge: March| @cinnamonanddean vs. @rodiniaorzetalthepenquin  Prompt: Alabama: No bathing in public fountains Rating: T| Wordcount: 921 Warnings: None Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester,  Additional Tags: Sibling Incest, Tumblr Prompt, Drunken Shenanigans, Making Out, First Kiss, weird laws, Wincest 

[snowysamw-moved]

Mission Accomplished

Written for: @wincestwritingchallenge

Prompt: tarot cards, 'Judgement': 'signifies plans, often long in the making, coming to fruitation'

Partner: @ilostmyshoe-79

Word Count: 1012

Warnings: incest (it is for a wincest challenge, after all), it kinda alludes to smut i guess but there's no actual smut

A/N: hey, i'm not sure how good this as it was kinda rushed (i'm also tryna hurry and finish my pinefest draft in time for art claims so i had to get this done and outta the way lol) but i hope you like it!!

Sam liked to blame his father. Maybe if he had some sense of normalcy, some normal sense of what was right and wrong, he wouldn't be like this. He wouldn't be so fucked up. He wouldn't lust after his own brother. Maybe if they hadn't been stuffed away in motel rooms together all the time, maybe if Sam had been given just a little breathing room, he'd be okay. He'd be average. He wouldn't be some disgusting freak. At least, this was what he told himself. He blamed everyone else, everyone but himself and Dean, to try and hide from the fact that he was totally screwed up and maybe insane. Hell, he had to be insane. No sane person was in love with their big brother. Maybe it was because of his clear lack of sanity that he formulated a plan. It certainly helped, at least.

The plan wasn't really a plan, technically. It was more of a mission. And that mission was to get Dean to want him as much as Sam wanted him, no matter what it took. He'd start with little things. He couldn't give it all away too early, of course. If Dean realized what he was doing, the whole thing would probably be over before it even started, and Sam didn't want that. So, yeah, he started with little things. Subtle things, like what he wore.

It was unbelievably embarrassing buying himself some women's underwear, but it had to be done. Well, not really, but it had to be done if he was to get what he wanted. The pairs he got were lacy and soft and he liked wearing them more than he had originally thought he would, and he hoped Dean would like them. The ones he got he had based off of some that various girls Dean had been with had accidentally left behind after a night with him. Dean would throw them away, because there would be no point in keeping them, and the next time Sam went to throw something out he'd see them. He figured that even if Dean had thrown them away, he had probably liked them while they were still on the girl. So, he bought the underwear, and made sure to wear it so that they would peek out of the waist of his jeans. He also made sure to wear shirts that were a little bit too short, and showed off a strip of his tan stomach and the tops of his jeans, along with his lacy underwear.

A few weeks later, he pushed it a bit farther, lounging around their motel rooms in nothing but one of Dean's old shirts and one of his pairs of panties. He only did this when John was gone, of course. His father would probably kill him if he had even the slightest idea of what he was doing. He'd definitely send him away somewhere, so he couldn't with Dean, and Sam would never risk that happening.

Next, he tentatively started flirting. It was always subtle stuff, like small touches and just saying certain things. But it had the desired result of Dean seeming to get a bit flustered, and then trying to hide the fact that he was flustered. Sam had to try and hide how pleased he was, though he was sure his brother knew his intentions by now.

Now, tonight, was the night. The night where it would all come to a head, the night where all his planning and teasing would finally have a result. John was gone, off on a hunt a few towns away, and he had decided to them stay in that town for a while because of the fact that Sam only had two months of his senior year left. Sam looked himself over in the mirror again, taking in the lacy red panties he had on and the old shirt that clung to his skin and was too definitely too short, stopping at his belly button. He didn't know why the hell they still had this shirt, maybe it had just recently gotten shrunk in the wash or something, but hey, it had proven useful. He ran a hand through his hair with a soft sigh before opening the bathroom door, his heart racing.

Dean was sprawled across his bed, head propped up by a pillow as he idly flicked through channels on the TV. Hands shaking and heart pounding so loud he was sure Dean could hear it, Sam made his way over and climbed into the bed, quickly settling in Dean's lap. He straddled him, resting his hands on his chest and watching him for his reaction.

Dean's eyes widened as he took in Sam's appearance, as everything that his little brother had been doing the past couple of months suddenly made sense. He couldn't deny that he wanted Sam, he always had. But he couldn't let this happen. Couldn't let his little Sammy be as fucked up as he was. "Sam, what're you-" he tried to protest, but was interrupted when the brunet leaned down, kissing him. He didn't push him away, but was frozen, unsure how to react. Part of him wanted to lean into it, to kiss Sam the way he had always wanted to. Another part of him was screaming that this was wrong and he needed to make it stop.

Sam pulled away after a second of Dean not responding, a frown on his face. He had been so sure...maybe he had read Dean wrong. Or maybe...maybe Dean just wasn't sure that he wanted it too. "Dean, if you can look me in the eyes and honestly say you don't want this, you don't want me, then I'll stop. I'll stop all of it, I swear."

Dean tried. He really did. But he couldn't lie to Sam. Never has been able to. Sam would just see through it anyway. So, he leaned up and kissed him, finally allowing himself to get something he wanted. Sam grinned against his lips.

Mission accomplished.

[sweet-sammy-kisses]

Morning Delight

Wincest Writing Challenge: November | @sweet-sammy-kisses  vs. @soaringthroughthesky Prompt: tarot cards -The High Priestess Pairing (s): Wincest Word Count: 820 Rating: PG Summary: Dean and Sam enjoy a lazy morning in bed.  Tags/Triggers:

Dean never thought that it would happen, that he would settle down and retire from hunting he had always figured that he would go out in a blaze of glory. 'Okay, that I have already done.' Dean had walked away from death too many times to count and he had lost Sam to many times to death he was just thankful that death didn't stick to them.

Still, Dean never planned on retiring from hunting he had wanted to go out in a blaze of glory side by side next to Sam. Never did he think it would come that he would settle down with Sam he always figured that they would go out in a blaze of glory but that wasn't meant to be.

They now had Jack to look after and the kid never hide the fact that he saw Sam as a father figure and while Sam wanted to protect Jack Dean didn't hide the fact that he had a harder time adjusting to the fact that they were now raising the son of the freaking devil and he knew that it affected Sam after all he was the one to hold Sam when the nightmares took command of Sam. Dean wasn't a fool there was no one he could read better than Sammy, his baby brother wanted to give Jack the kind of life that they never got growing up one free of hunting.

The bunker had been their home for a long time but it wasn't the place to raise Jack it was too easy for their enemies to find their way in and when the Men of Letters came for Jack. They needed a place to hide Jack that no one could get their hands on him.

Sam never thought that he and Dean would have made their home in the middle of the forest but they had found one of Bobby's hidden away cabins the perfect place to hide away with Jack while they did their best to raise him. He felt at peace out here in the woods with Dean and Jack and even Castiel when he came by to visit.

Twisting around Dean was greeted to a sight that he would never get tired of Sam's bareback. Checking to make sure that Sam was still asleep Dean trailed his hands up and down Sam's back wanting to see how long it would be before Sam woke up.

Dean loved the feel of Sam's bare skin against his body, he loved hearing Sam murmur his name as he begged for more. "Sammy, it's time to wake up."

Sam made a little noise as he rolled over and buried his head in his pillow. "Oh don't want to get up do you? That's okay with me. I can wake you up." Dean's voice dropped an octave as he tugged the blanket away from Sam.

A single eye peeked open. "Dee it's too early come back to bed." Sam purred trailing his hands up and down the empty side of the bed.

Dean could never say no to Sam and he didn't want to. "Do you think we will have time before the brat is up?" Dean asked as he crawled back into bed hovering above Sam.

Shifting so he could look Dean in the eyes Sam smiled up at him as he wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. "I will give the same answer I give every morning I think we have time. Jack has proven that he loves his sleep I think we have time."

"That is all I needed to hear." Dean murmured as he lowered his head and laid claimed to Sam's mouth. If he was retired from hunting he was damn well going to enjoy his morning treat.

“Shh, we don’t want anyone to hear us now do we?” Dean asked as he pressed his thumb against Sam’s lips once he broke the kiss. 

“No, we don’t.” Sam agreed tired of the space between them wrapped his arms and pulled Dean done onto the bed with him. "I'm sure that Jack is having a blast. But right now all that can wait I believe we have much more important things to do."

"Damn right baby boy." Dean had been without his taste of Sam for too long he was sure that Jack would be okay. After all, he was the son of the Devil, Jack could take care of himself right now Dean had far more important things to focus on and that was the man underneath him. 'And Castiel will no doubt be showing up and soon.' Dean knew that Castiel could keep an eye on Jack while he was busy with Sam.

For now, Dean planned on enjoying the treat laid out before him. He had no clue how it all happened all he knew was very thankful that he had been blessed to have Sam's love.

[soy-em]

Wincest Writing Challenge: One King

Written for @wincestwritingchallenge Round 12: Richard Silken

Prompt:  I swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth.

Pairing: Wincest 

Partner: @ilostmyshoe-79

Rating: E/NC17

Summary: 

Dean's confusing porn with reality again, and he's really got to stop.

OR

What happens when the Winchesters are forced to share a bed.

On A03

Sequel to Two Queens

It doesn’t work.

Dean knows he has a good ass. He’s been told so by more people than he can count - most of those comments very much unwelcome at the time but enough to leave him in happy confidence that his backside is pleasing to people.

But dropping his pants and showing it off hasn’t worked. Sam remains as utterly indifferent to Dean (and his ass) as he always seems to be.

Dean tips his head back in the shower and shakes his head. He doesn’t know what to do any more; maybe he should just give up. Water pounds down over his head; the excellent pressure might turn out to be the only good thing about this motel, and Dean finally starts to thaw out, tingles radiating from his fingers and toes as he warms up. He forces himself not to linger; Sam needs this bliss as much as he does.

When he leaves the bathroom, he’s confronted with the kingsize bed. It’s like something out of a porno, he thinks; two hot guys forced to share a bed and huddle together for warmth. In the porn world, it would only end one way, even if the men were brothers; but as Sam’s said many times, he shouldn’t confuse reality and porn. The likelihood of him and Sam getting it on tonight is miniscule. He needs to resign himself to that.

He hops into bed and scoots to one side, leaving enough space for his brother. When he finally emerges from the shower, Sam looks utterly horrified at the thought of sharing with Dean, and that’s more than enough to crush all of Dean’s hopes.

Rolling over, Dean does what Winchesters do best, and thinks about something else until he falls asleep.

***

Waking in the middle of the night, Dean is surrounded by a warmth and rightness that he hasn’t felt in over four years. Sam is not just close, Sam is within touching distance, within breathing distance, within kissing distance and that’s just exactly where he should be. Dean luxuriates for a moment, Sam’s familiar breath hitting his cheek and his little almost-snores tickling Dean’s ears.

There’s enough dim artificial light trickling through the thin motel curtains for Dean to see his brother. Sam looks so peaceful asleep, as if the trials of the past few months have washed away; the frown on his forehead smoothed out and his lips gently parted. He’s beautiful like this too, of course, he’s always beautiful; but Dean is struck with how relaxed he looks. It highlights the strain Sam carries during the day, the grief of losing Jess mixing with the guilt of not being able to find their Dad, and it’s only now that it’s gone that Dean is seeing the impact.

Dean is awash with love in that moment; the love he’s felt all his life, from the moment the tiny bundle was first placed in his arms, supported carefully by a soft embrace he can barely remember; right through to the desperate hug at a wet bus stop as Sam set off into the unknown, and most recently felt through the crash of Sam’s body fighting against him in a dark room, before a girl in tiny pyjamas flicked on the lights.

Jess. Dean had been stunned when he saw her; not just because she was hot (so hot, well done Sammy), but because it was just a little bit like looking into a mirror. Light hair, luminous eyes, freckles; Dean had seen himself and hoped. And there’s the looks, sometimes; the way Sam’s eyes follow him; the frown that deepens across Sam’s forehead as he watches Dean flirt; the almost painful intensity between them when they avoid talking about Stanford. Just occasionally, Dean wonders if Sam feels the same way.

But Sam’s grief over Jess has shown his brother’s true feelings and Dean’s been forced to let go of that.

Except he hasn’t really. Twisting onto his side carefully, he looks at his brother again and his heart clenches. There is literally nothing he wouldn’t do for this boy, even give him up to college and a better life. But Sammy’s back now and all Dean’s feelings, ruthlessly suppressed over the past four years, have come roaring back. Dean wants everything of Sam; every moment, every thought, every feeling and every breath of Sam is important to Dean; he wants to know them, understand them, share them all.

It’s not healthy - he’s known that since he was nine and found Sam’s first day at school harder than his brother; since he was fourteen and wanted to fight all Sam’s battles for him; since he was nineteen and saw Sam’s long legs in a different light for the first time. But he wants, and he can’t help himself, and he needs to realise it’s never going away and make his peace with that. It’s just harder at times like this, when it would be so easy to reach across the bed and kiss Sam into wakefulness.

Trying to regain control of his feelings, he rolls back the other way and shuts his eyes firmly. As Sam said, the sooner he goes to sleep, the sooner it will be morning and he can find them a motel with two beds.

***

It’s light when Dean wakes again, his body still heavy with sleep. Trying to move, he realises that he can’t; he’s pinned by a heavy, warm weight across his waist and legs. Blinking sleepily through his feeling of contentment, it takes him a while to realise it’s Sam. His brother has pressed up against him in the night, sprawling across Dean and most of the bed, so that Dean is almost hanging off the edge.

Fucking sasquatch, he thinks, and tries to shift into a safer position. As he moves, he becomes aware of two very concerning issues: one, that he himself is hard, Sam’s leg pressing warm against his morning wood; and two, that Sam’s even harder, a small wet patch forming against Dean’s hip where Sam’s slotted tight against him.

Shame flushes through Dean’s body. He’s never been a prude about sex, and he’s been aware of his feelings for Sam for years, but still; finding himself aroused by his baby brother’s warm, sleeping, unaware body gives him the kind of guilt trip he could do without. Its drowned out almost immediately though by a different kind of heat; Sam is hard against him, and although it’s probably just a natural morning reaction, or even a dream about a different warm body, Dean still can’t control his visceral reaction.

He must unknowingly tense his body, because suddenly Sam’s squirming against him, waking up. Dean’s still too sleep fogged to react fast enough; before he can think to move, Sam’s awake, body going stiff beside him.

“Dean?” Sam asks, voice quiet. He sounds almost fearful. “Dean, I’m so sorry.” It takes Dean a moment to realise Sam’s trying to extricate himself from the tangle of their limbs, and yet more time passes before Dean’s aware that he’s making that impossible by not moving his leg.

“Dean,” Sam says, voice insistent and more high pitched than normal, a slight edge of panic creeping in. “I need to get up.”

Dean will never know what possesses him to take the risk, but he rolls so they’re face to face, legs still caught up, and rocks his hips forwards. He can feel the hard press of Sam’s cock against his own through their boxers, and the puff of air on his face as Sam gasps, his hands clutching tight onto Dean’s arms. There’s no rejection, so Dean does it again, rolling his hips fluidly into Sam’s, watching his brother’s mouth go slack with pleasure.

“Sammy?” he asks, putting as much emotion as possible behind that one word in the hope of not having to talk about his feelings in more detail.

“Yes, Dean,” Sam agrees fervently, and that’s enough for Dean to lean in and seal his mouth onto Sam’s in a deep, intense kiss. Sam should taste sour but his mouth is the sweetest thing Dean’s ever experienced. It doesn’t take long for them to start rocking against each other, Sam’s leg curling over Dean’s hip as if to trap him in place and never let him go. Dean winds his arms around Sam’s neck, pulling their heads together so that they’re sharing every tiny gasp and moan between them, no space for the outside world. He knows he should get his hand down between them and pull their boxers down at least, so that they’re skin on skin; but he’s wanted this for so long that he’s not going to have time. Everything feels so good, and he’s so sleep-fogged that he can feel his orgasm rocketing through his veins far faster than he’d like; his body speeding up and toes curling. But Sam’s in no better state, his ever-changing eyes focused on Dean’s as their noses brush together.

Sam bites down hard on his own lip, head tipping back as he comes while he’s riding Dean’s leg; and the sight is enough to end things for Dean too. He comes with a gasp, forehead knocking against his brothers as they both try to draw in a breath. It’s only a second before Sam’s kissing him again, uncoordinated but so eager, licking into Dean’s mouth as if he never wants it to end.

They make out lazily for a while, neither caring about the mess in their boxers. Dean could stay here forever, happy to ignore the consequences of their morning. Rain is still pounding against the windows and they’re probably stuck here for the day anyway, he thinks.

Eventually, though, Sam pulls back. He slides to the edge of the bed without a word, and Dean feels his heart drop. The disgust he’s been expecting all morning is obviously kicking in and Sam wants to get away from him. It’s going to break his heart; he’s lived through Sam’s rejection once, and survived, just barely. He doesn’t think he can do it again.

Pushing himself out of the bed, he fumbles for his jeans, pulling them up harshly and disregarding the mess in his boxers. He’ll sort it out at the first service station. Casting around, he sees his t-shirt on the other side of the room and strides across to pick it up.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice is small and confused; he’s standing in the bathroom door, still in just his boxers and a t-shirt. Looking incredibly young, Sam visibly takes a deep breath. “I get it if you want to leave, Dean, I’m disgusting. But wait until it’s safe to drive again, at least.” Sam turns away. “I can wait in the bathroom. Or go to reception.”

Dean’s head actually spins for a minute, dizziness threatening to send him to the floor. Sam thinks he’s disgusting? Dean’s the one who’s corrupted his little brother. Worse, Sam thinks Dean is leaving him and he’s upset?

It all takes Dean a minute to process, and in that time Sam’s gone back into the bathroom. Dean can see him, perched on the edge of the grimy bath, cradling his head in his hands. Dean hates stuff like this, hates having to work through his emotions, but this is Sam; it will be worth it. He approaches his brother softly, still-bare feet making no noise as he crouches down in front of his brother.

“Sammy,” he begins. “I don’t think you’re disgusting.” He pauses. “I am, but not you. You’re perfect.”

Sam’s eyes peek through his hands. “I’m disgusting. I made you do that.”

“I made you do that,” Dean counters. “I’m the big brother.”

There’s an interminable moment of silence. Sam’s the first to break it, taking the risk that Dean can’t quite bring himself to chance. “Did you want that?” he asks softly, and Dean nods emphatically, heart in his mouth.

“Oh thank fuck,” Sam breathes, and collapses forwards into Dean’s arms. Dean barely catches them in time, lowering them both to the cold bathroom floor. Sam’s peppering kisses against his face and it takes Dean a moment to get him to stop, framing Sam’s face with his hands.

“I take it you did too?” he asks, voice a little dry, and this time its Sam who nods, laughing.

“Yes, yes.” They’re kissing against, messy kisses across each other’s faces as they miss their mouths, Sam’s teeth nipping at his lips, his ears, his neck. Dean’s laughing too, happiness bubbling out of him. Eventually their mouths reconnect properly and Dean’s swallowing down Sam’s joy alongside his moans, his heart beating sure and fast where it’s pressed up against Sam’s, right where it should be.

[doctor--idiot]

Death of the Petals

Wincest Writing Challenge: October | @doctor–idiot vs. @rakshasadean Prompt: Death of the Petals Rating: Teen | Wordcount: 1195 | AO3 Warnings: None

I took some inspiration from this picture (NSFW).

Dean has always thought that fall held some sort of magic. It might have to do with the colors, the chilly air that he can just barely see his breath in. Nature is going to sleep around him, flowers losing their petals, trees shedding their gowns of leaves.

It’s not even his favorite season, he’s a spring guy all the way, loves watching the rebirth of nature while waiting for the temperatures to rise above freezing. But there’s simply something fascinating about fall.

He doesn’t particularly like Halloween and their family never bought into the tradition of Thanksgiving, but it’s not about that. It’s about the strong light of the sinking sun late in the afternoon, painting the ground in a reddish brown and the withering flowers in a strange hue of purple. It’s about the storms that come. It’s about those late, lazy mornings and about bonfires.

He knows people all over go crazy over their pumpkin-whatever-lattes once October rolls around and Halloween and Christmas decorations live side by side in the stores, and to be honest, all of that still confuses him. Overwhelms him.

But he likes the quiet. Streets that are empty due to the cold and clammy weather. It’s a pain sometimes, to have the sun right in his eyes while he drives because it sets so early now, but once it’s gone and the world looks just that tiny bit more deserted in the dim light, he likes to roll down the window and breathe the air that smells like wet leaves.

Fall always holds a promise. Of short days and long nights, of cozy afternoons spent in front of the fire – and Dean really misses Rufus’s cabin, misses that fireplace smack in the middle of it. He could do without the mud and the rain for the most part but that’s all part of the experience.

The ground is still soft and the heavy boots that fall behind him make slurping sounds, revealing their position to Dean, who doesn’t even tense up where he is settled back against the hood of his car.

“You’ve been out here a while,” Sam remarks when he has caught up with Dean, leaning sideways against the bumper, one hand braced on the hood, “Sure you’re not getting cold?”

“I’m fine, mom,” Dean pronounces and shoots his brother a small smile before kicking off the Impala, rocking it slightly, and turning around to face Sam. “I’s just thinking … Remember that night in Rufus’s cabin where–where we came back covered in swamp water, freezing our asses of?”

Sam is looking at him with his arms crossed comfortably in front of his chest. His face is half in the shadow and the sun has already set, so Dean can’t quite make out his expression but he thinks he sees the hint of a smirk in the corner of Sam’s mouth.

“Hm,” Sam hums, “You nagged me into getting a fire started and called first shower like the jerk you are.”

Dean grins broadly at him, saying, “Bitch,” out of principle. Then he adds, “I remember how we lay on the blanket in front of the fire to warm up.”

Sam stays quiet for a moment, then says, “That’s not all we did to warm up.”

“So you do remember.” Dean slumps against the car again, sliding his ass back until he’s sitting on the hood, the heel of his right foot braced on the front bumper.

“‘Course I do.” Sam is looking down at his hands, fingers flexing against the seam of his jeans, his hair falling into his face. “It was … a special night. You know, before everything kind of went to shit.”

He clears his throat and Dean looks over, nods although he’s not sure Sam can see it. “Yeah, it did, didn’t it.”

He suddenly wishes he had a beer. Not because he wants to get drunk per se but because it’s their thing. Sitting on the car, talking. Drinking. His hand twitches, muscle memory. He rubs it against his thigh.

“I think about that a lot,” Sam says quietly after a minute.

“About how it all went bad?”

Sam shakes his head.

“About that night?”

Another quick shake, then a nod. “Yeah, but not just that. I think about … us, I think about how–how it was all pretty good there for a while. Amazing, actually.”

For a moment, Dean doesn’t know what to say to that. They haven’t been on the same page in a long time. They used to be more intuitive, in sync with each other without having to think about it. Easy like breathing.

They can’t seem to catch a break.

Forget the beer, whiskey is what he needs.

He sighs. It’s loud in the eerie silence of the evening.

“I think about it, too,” he admits because it’s easier in the dark. “I … I miss it. Sometimes.”

Sam turns his head to look at him.

Dean looks down. “All of the time.”

Sam says nothing. His breathing is even and Dean subconsciously mimics the pattern. Their shoulders brush with their chests rising and falling.

It’s strange. Spring should be the season of novelty. Of new beginnings. Of blossoming. But somehow, fall has always symbolized all that for Dean. Death to him, to them, doesn’t mean what it means to other people. It simply means something has to go for something else, for a new version, to take its place.

Next to him, Sam gives a shuddery breath and Dean leans in, drawn to Sam like he always has been, a familiar pull that he follows blindly. Their shoulders knock together harder until Sam turns his torso, Dean fitting into him like he used to and all Dean has to do is tilt his chin up that little bit and their mouths slot together perfectly, just like they always did.

Sam chuckles against him, equal amounts of surprise and relief, and Dean sighs again, opens his mouth against the softness of Sam’s lips. His fingers are knotted in the hem of Sam’s Henley, pulling it tight against Sam’s hip as they angle into each other. Dean nearly slips off the hood but Sam snakes an arm around his waist and pulls him in and it’s everything he has been yearning for. Sam’s large hand is splayed against his back and Dean arches into the touch, fingers tangled in Sam’s hair, kissing him harder like it’s the only way they can make up for lost time.

He pulls back when he desperately needs to breathe, pressing their foreheads together and Sam makes a little noise in the back of his throat, cupping Dean’s jaw. “Okay,” he says, “Okay, this–this is good, we’re good.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, his nose brushing his brother’s, “We are.”

It’s getting chilly now, barely any sunlight left, and Dean thinks he can smell rain coming but he doesn’t want to move. He kisses Sam again, nudging his mouth open with his tongue, and they both moan quietly.

They’re still in the same spot, still making out stupidly like teenagers at their junior prom, when the first rain drops start to fall.

Tags: @ghivasheluh @cupcaketimelord @runtosleepdreamer @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @princessmoonspunky @moonlightrat

[cinnamonanddean]

Wincest Writing Challenge: February | @cinnamonanddean vs. @ilostmyshoe-79​ Prompt: Lavender - “devotion” Rating: M| Wordcount: 530 Warnings: Underage Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester Additional Tags: Sibling Incest, Tumblr Prompt, Underage Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Guilty Dean Winchester, First Time, Second Time, Wincest Writing Challenge

[ilovejared]

Numb

Wincest Writing Challenge: October

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Partner: storyspinner70

Prompt: Names of Yesterday

Word Count: 1270

Rating: R

Summary: Soulless Sam ponders the future...and the past.

Sam sighed and closed his laptop, plunging the dingy motel into semi-darkness. A streetlight outside the room filtered through the thin curtains stretched across the window.

He stood and stretched, arms above his head, stiff from combing the internet for a case the past three hours. Maybe he should go for a run, get rid of the tension that always seemed to be there, right beneath his skin, an itch that could be scratched momentarily with exercise or a hunt or with sex. He couldn’t find a hunt and his body was sore from the paces he had put it though this morning. 

 The digital numbers on the bedside table glowed red. It’s was half past two in the morning in a crap little town in the middle of Nowhere, Iowa and he was restless, dammit.

A woman might do the trick but his prospects seemed slim to none in finding a willing woman this time of night and he preferred privacy when he was fucking and privacy was at a premium right now

Sam looked at his older brother, snoring softly in one of the double beds and wondered why he had decided to hunt with him again.

He had done just fine by himself for a year. He’d had Samuel and the rest of the clan for back-up when he needed or wanted it and that had been enough

Or so he thought.

One of the first things he had done when he had woke up in that field, after shouting himself hoarse, trying to get that goddamn angel to talk to him, was to head to Lisa’s. To Dean.

Maybe it was just out of habit. His whole life,Dean had been there, had his back, protected him. Loved him.

But he had stood on the sidewalk in front of a pretty little suburban house and watched Dean with his new family and he had felt.....nothing.

Looking at his brother now, relaxed in sleep, he found that he wanted to touch him. Well, he wanted to do more than touch. 

He wanted to take. And, maybe, be taken in return.

Just to see if there was really nothing of his previous self left inside.

The thing was he could remember what is was like be loved by Dean. Not just as his little brother, but wholly, completely like he was Dean’s world.

And Dean had been his.

When he had been growing up, he had looked up to Dean with something akin to hero worship. His big brother had been larger than life, tough as nails and Sam had tried to emulate him in every way.

Dean had also been safety and home and love.

Then Sam had hit puberty and had looked at his big brother in an all together different way.

He had noticed the play of muscles on Dean’s back as he washed the impala. The way his ass flexed and moved in his tight underwear as he walked across every room they shared. The pink plush lips that Sam wanted to kiss and lick and bite. The dusting of freckles that seemed to be well.....everywhere.

And those emerald green eyes, framed by long lashes that would make any girl jealous. Sam was aware of the way they stared at him with the same longing that Sam had discovered within himself.

They had become lovers and the two of them had been enough for the other,

Sam had needed no one else. Even Dean, who still flirted and attempted to charm every woman he came into contact with, did nothing in the end.

He was Sam’s as surely as Sam was his.

And then Heaven and Hell had conspired to separate them, to turn one brother against the other. But they had always found their way back to each other.

This time was different. 

Both Sam and Dean had known something was different from that first hug at the Campbell compound after Sam had saved his brother from the djinn poisoning.

And now, they had found he was soulless. Sam wondered if he would really ever get his soul back.

He had been okay when he had had been doing nothing but hunting. To not feel guilt, remorse, fear had made him an even more formidable hunter.

None of it had mattered. Until now.

He enjoyed the physicality of his existence. Hunting and fucking were the things that had kept him going after returning from the cage.

But now, if he was being honest, neither gave him much satisfaction. 

He remembered how things had been between him and Dean and for the first time in over a year, he wanted to feel.

Memories came with a ghost of the emotions he had experienced as his former self. There was pain and guilt and self-loathing.

But there had also been love so intense that everything else paled in comparison. There had been elation and wonder. There had been hope.

There had been passion between them that never seemed to be sated. He remembered what it had felt like to be riding his brother, feeling so full, grinding himself down, hard, then harder and faster, chasing a release so intense he would scream his brother’s name when he came.

He also remembered rocking into Dean, taking it slow, seeing Dean writhe underneath him, burying himself in his brother’s heat, drawing it out for the both of them. Dean would finally wrap his legs around Sam’s waist, urging Sam deeper, burying his face in Sam’s shoulder to muffle his sounds of pleasure.

Then there had been the times when they would lie facing each other just kissing for what seemed like hours. Simply enjoying the feel and the taste of each other.

Sam found that he missed that feeling of contentment that he had found in his brother’s arms.

Even now, he could remember that feeling. He wanted it. 

And he knew Dean wanted him still, even as he was, because he was still his little brother. He was still Sam.

He stripped down to his briefs then laid down beneath covers, wrapping his arms around his brother.

Dean’s eyes flew open, then focused on the familiar face in front of him.

“Sam, what are you doing?” Dean’s tone was wary and gruff with sleep.

“I’m hugging you, Dean.”

“Okay.” Dean cleared his throat. “Why?”

Sam rolled his eyes.”Why do you think?” He laid his head on Dean’s shoulder, snuggling closer. “You could hug me back.”

“Sam-”

“Dean, I think I need this. If we can’t get my soul back-” Dean tried to protest but Sam continued, “If we can’t, I’m going to need your help. I’m going to need you.”

“I remember what what we were like together, what that felt like.” He paused when he felt Dean’s arms envelop him. “I want to feel something again, Dean.”

“Well, that ‘s definitely a step in the right direction.” Dean took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “It’s just a little unexpected, Sammy.”

Sam raised his head so he could look at Dean. “Well, I don’t sleep so I have a lot of time to think.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, that’s still a little creepy.”

Giving Dean time to pull away, Sam brought his lips to Dean’s. It was a chaste kiss and they both wanted more. They could see the truth of it in each others eyes.

They lay with their arms around the other and finally Dean drifted off to sleep.

For the first time, in well over a year, Sam could feel a tendril of something........

It felt like home.

[chiliscale]

Roadhouse Nights

For @wincestwritingchallenge

Prompt: The High Priestress ( feminine influences, insightfulness, intuition, reason should take second place to instinct)

My partner: @sweet-sammy-kisses

Pairings: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Other Tags: Ellen Harvelle, Jo Harvelle. Ash, Roadhouse, Outside POV

Rating: General Audiences

Word count: 2704

Summary: Ellen has been watching them for months now. She´s seen the pining, the hidden touches, the secret looks… and she´s about done with it. If those damned Winchester´s are too stubborn to pull their heads out of their asses themselves, then she´s just the right woman to do it for them.

Link: AO3

There´s a shout and a crash, the sound of splintering wood, loud laughter echoing through the bar, heads turning to see what all the ruckus is about. Crude jokes fly through the air, followed by good-natured mocking, and Ellen lifts her head from the counter to check if any intervention on her part is needed.

Her staff is already on the move though, Perry and Dunham deftly pulling Elkins off the floor and escorting him outside, Tina abandoning her tray of empty glasses in favor of grabbing a mop and a trashcan to clean up the mess of spilled beer and broken chair pieces. It´s over in the span of a few minutes, and most people are already turning their attention back to their own conversations. Business as usual, then.

Ellen sighs and pours cheap whiskey into glasses, collects some of the empty beer bottles littering the bar and adds the broken chair to Elkins´ tap - there´s no way that bastard´s not going to pay for the damage he´s caused.

It´s just another normal Saturday night: hunters crowding her bar, the smell of male sweat and alcohol thick in the air, everyone trying to one-up their drinking partners with stories of glory, blood, and monster guts.

At the table to her left, a smaller group of hunters starts singing their own horrid rendition of some semi-famous country song Ellen can´t remember the name of, and it really shouldn´t surprise her that it´s Ash´s voice that stands out the loudest. Genius he may be, but that kid can´t carry a tune for the life of him…

Jo joins her behind the bar and starts piling fresh beer bottles onto her tray, grimacing in pain when Ash hits another high note. Resigning, Ellen rolls her eyes and empties the vodka bottle into the half-filled beer glass in front of her – once Ash´s reached this particular state of drunkenness, there´s only one way to shut him up: get him pass-out drunk and let him sleep it off; and judging by his antics, it is definitely time to speed things up a little... She hands the vodka spiked beer to Tina and then turns her attention back to her regular patrons, pouring drinks and collecting money with well-practiced movements.

Another bout of laughter floats over, warm and genuine this time, and Jo pauses and looks up, gaze fixed at something over at the pool tables.

Well, Ellen amends, or rather at a someone, if the wistful look in her daughter´s eyes is anything to go by…

It´s not like Ellen can blame her: Dean Winchester is every girl´s wet dream, every parent´s worst nightmare. From those broad shoulders to that cocky smile, green eyes sparkling in the dim bar light, leather jacket straining over his biceps – that boy´s sex on legs, dangerous and mysterious, confident and charming enough to flirt his way into most women´s beds. He´s a damn good hunter too, way more intelligent than he´s letting on, and Ellen´s known him and Sam long enough to realize that they´re both hiding a heart of gold underneath that rough big-bad-hunter exterior.

But Dean´s also too much like his father, too focused on his mission to care for much else, too entangled with the hunting life, with his brother, to offer her daughter more than heartbreak and sorrow. The Winchester´s path is a bloody one, and as much as she´s learned to love those boys, she´s not about to lose another member of her family to hunting. Not without fighting it with everything she has.

Determined to break the moment, Ellen slams down the tequila bottle, and Jo jumps and shakes out of her daydreams with a high-pitched sound of surprise. Her daughter gives her a sheepish smile, well aware that she´s been caught, and hurriedly scurries away to exchange empty beer bottles with full ones.

Ellen shakes her head in exasperation and then stacks dirty glasses into the dishwasher, grabbing a towel to dry off the newly washed ones.

Her gaze drifts a bit as she works, lingers on the poker game that´s taking place a few feet away, and slides further up to where Gareth and McMartins are trying to convince Addams to join in on their werewolf hunt five towns over.

It´s not so much by accident than a rule of physics that her eyes finally get stuck on Sam Winchester´s broad back. The kid´s easily towering over everyone else in the bar (excluding Ash, who´s currently dancing on a damn table) and even his hunched shoulders and bend neck do nothing to make him less visible.

Ellen frowns – that posture can´t be good for the boy, and she´s tried talking it out of him a few times already. At this point, the whole things is probably instinctual rather than a conscious choice though, a bad habit that is hard to get rid of. She´s seen the kid fully upright once or twice only, and it has always been in response to a threat – Sam´s going to have some serious back problems once he´s older.

If he lives to see thirty, that is…

She ruthlessly shoves that thought away and grabs a new glass to dry, silently watches as Dean lines up another shot, shamelessly showing off for the little fan club that has gathered around the table in the hopes of catching his attention. He succeeds in sinking a few balls, but messes up the next shot, grudgingly stepping aside to let Sam take over. The older Winchester watches from the sightlines as Sam works his own magic at the pool table, gaze firmly fixed on his brother even as he jokes with the three girls surrounding him.

Some new patrons draw Ellen´s attention away, and when she looks over next, Dean has slung an arm around his brother´s shoulders, triumphant grin broadcasting his victory. It´s strangely endearing to see how well they fit together, bodies leaning into each other without a conscious thought, their sides pressed together comfortably, as if that´s right where they belong, not an inch of space between them.

For a second, Sam looks almost small in Dean´s arms, almost fragile despite his bigger frame, but the little-brother moment is gone before Ellen can fully pinpoint it, and then Sam shoves Dean off with a smile and excuses himself, apparently done with his brother´s flirting and determined to leave him to his hook-ups.

Dean watches him go, shoulders slumping slightly before he catches himself and turns his million-watt smile back onto his would-be conquests.

Ellen loses sight of Sam as another wave of costumers demands her attention and for a while, she´s too busy handling the bar to pay any mind to the Winchesters.  It´s nearly fifteen minutes later when she finds another quiet moment.

By then, Dean´s back to playing some newbie hunter who´s obviously not yet had the pleasure of being defeated by a Winchester, and this time it´s Sam watching from the distance, large frame nearly disappearing into the shadows of his chosen bar corner.  

Dean´s not even paying his opponent full attention, too busy flirting with his fan club to focus entirely on the game. Ellen does not miss the looks he´s throwing Sam, though, doesn´t miss how Dean´s constantly angling his body to allow him to keep his brother in his line of sight, doesn´t miss the silent communication that passes between those two.

She also doesn´t miss the hurt on Sam´s face when one of the girls curls a hand around Dean´s biceps, she sees the sad little smile when Dean leans closer in response, sees how Sam´s grip on his beer bottle tightens, how his shoulders tense and how he curls into himself even more as he withdraws deeper into the shadows.

The look in Sam´s eyes is one she´s seen a million times before on other people´s faces – there´s so much longing, so much love, so much hopelessness… It´s not a look you´re supposed to direct towards a sibling.

It had been hard to detect at first, the brother´s unusual closeness covering most of their weird relationship dynamics, Dean´s constant flirting doing the rest to distract from anything out of the ordinary. But Ellen´s always been good at reading people and it hasn’t taken her long to pick up on the looks, the touches. Sam´s quiet longing, Dean´s louder self- depreciation. She doesn’t need Ash´s level of genius to read the signals right…

Ellen knows this should probably disgust her, and disgust had been her knee-jerk reaction at first, common sense and the rules of society telling her how wrong this is. But a hunter´s life is complicated and she´s learned a long time ago that unusual doesn’t necessarily mean bad. She´s been in love herself, has loved without reason or rhyme, knows how impossible it is to fight this – who is she to condemn someone else´s feelings?

The boys are adults. Old enough, mature enough.

Still, she can´t help but feel grateful that John isn´t around to witness this… can´t help but wonder if he knew…

Dean laughs, draws the brunette closer to whisper in her ear, and Sam cringes and drains his beer, gathers his plaid shirts and jacket, determined to flee the scene.

Oh hell, no.

Ellen huffs and throws her towel down – she´s watched this fiasco long enough, has tried to direct those boys with subtle hints and quiet encouragement, but has obviously misjudged the legendary Winchester stubbornness. God save her from men and their emotional stupidity - time for some female intervention.

“Jo, you´re in charge.”

She grabs two beers and is on her way before her daughter finds the voice to protest. Sam looks up in surprise when she slides one of her beers over and grabs his arm to keep him in place, silently ordering him to stay put. He obeys reluctantly, sits back down and smiles (well, grimaces) at her.

“Hey, Ellen.”

“You´re leaving already? Tired of watching Dean flirt his way through the whole bar?”

Sam shrugs solemnly, fingers finding the label of his beer bottle and starting to peel it off.

“We´ve had a busy few weeks. Not much time for fun or distraction… I can tell him to lay off, if you want me to, though, he´ll understand.”

Ellen only snorts.

“I can handle your brother if I need to, Winchester. No need for you to intervene on my behalf.”

They just sit for a while, quietly enjoying their drinks, Ellen watching Sam watching Dean, silently cataloguing the emotions that play over his face. The longing´s even more obvious from up close, and she wonders how she could´ve spend so many weeks in the dark, how anyone can spend more than ten minutes with those two in one room without realizing the truth.

Then again, those boys are head over heels for each other, and none of them has even the slightest idea that their feelings are returned, either.

“You should tell him, you know.”

Sam blinks at her, confusion clouding his face, but she only quirks an eyebrow meaningfully, and shifts her eyes to where Dean´s ass is high up in the air as he bends over the pool table to get a better shot.

It´s painful to watch the horror descend over Sam´s face, to see the panic in his eyes before he manages to rein himself in. His shoulders tense and he opens his mouth, closes it again, has to try several times before he manages to force out some words.

Ellen´s never wanted to hug someone this badly.

“I – Ellen. Tell him what? I don´t… What do you…”

She settles for the direct approach, lets her hand rest on Sam´s right forearm and squeezes gently.

“You love him. And not only in the way a brother should… There´s more. Took me a while to see it, but it´s unmistakable now.”

Sam´s still struggling for words, denial clear on his face, but they both know that he´s been caught.

“Please, Ellen.” There´s something shaky in his voice, something broken and defeated, something she never wants to her in his voice ever again. “You can´t tell him. You can´t. Dean wouldn’t – he doesn’t...”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Sam.”

She cradles his huge hand in hers, gently tries to loosen the death grip his fingers have on his beer bottle.

“I´ve seen the way you look at him, all the love, all the adoration in your eyes… Dean looks at you the same way – like you´re the single most important thing in all of creation, like he´d give up everything for you in a heartbeat.”

Sam´s shaking his head wordlessly, still unable to meet her eyes.

“It´s okay, Sam. We´re okay.”

Ellen knows that Dean has noticed that something´s wrong by now, can feel his eyes boring into her back, knows that he´s fidgeting, trying to decide if he´s supposed to come over and save Sam from her clutches or if that would only earn him a tongue-lashing too.

“What you and Dean share… It´s special. Precious. Most people don´t ever make the kind of connection that you two have, and with the life us hunters lead… I can´t believe that I´m actually saying this, but stop thinking with your head, Sam. Stop trying to find reasons why this is wrong. Listen to your instincts. You´ve been struggling with this for years, haven´t you? Maybe your heart isn´t as wrong as you believe it to be.”

Sam´s face is still stoic and disbelieving, but there´s also tentative hope, small and fragile, but there… Maybe that´s all those boys ever needed – acceptance, someone giving them permission.

“Talk to him, Winchester.”

Ellen drains her beer and gets up again, buries her understanding-counselor persona deep under her usual gruff attitude, and searches Sam´s eye one last time.

“And Sam? Knock some sense into that brother of yours. That boy is even more caught up in his head than you are, he´s going to need some convincing… Don´t let him bullshit you, he wants this just as much as you do.”

With that she turns and heads back to the bar, grinning when she watches from the corner of her eyes as Dean beelines to his brother´s side immediately, shooting an angry glance in her direction when he sees the state Sam´s in.

She´s not sure if her little stunt has done any good or just made everything worse - those boys are too damn bullheaded! But well, if push comes to shove, there´s always the good old get-everyone-drunk-and-shove-them-into-a-supply-closet approach; a move she has perfected over the years – hunter´s are a stubborn folk, and as brilliant as some of them are when it comes to hunting, feelings are a whole different matter.

Ellen ignores Jo and her curious glances and goes back to serving beer again, wipes down the counter and collects the keys from some of her drunk-off-their-asses’ regulars.

In the far corner, Dean is quietly whispering with Sam, foreheads nearly touching as he tries to get his brother to talk. Ellen catches Sam´s eyes and winks, smirks as he blushes, and then turns towards her daughter, who is still looking between the three of them quizzically, and shoos her back to work.

Some idiot at the poker table has been caught cheating and it takes her some time to settle the ensuing dispute, her loaded shotgun making another one of it´s infamous appearances and reminding everyone of the Roadhouse´s no-fistfights-in-the-bar policy.

Ash has finally reached his limits, and he only gives another loud snore when Ellen none-too-gently pokes his side, flopping onto his stomach without waking, blissfully unaware of the warding symbols people have drawn all over his face.

Jo is once again back at the pool tables, pouring tequila shots and distributing beers among the hunters gathered there, her eyes roaming the crowd and narrowing in confusion when she doesn’t find what she´s looking for.

A quick check-up reveals that Sam´s table in the far corner is empty now, no sign of plaid anywhere to be found, and Ellen mentally high-fives herself and turns to the next patron with a smug smile on her face.

Those Winchester boys really do owe her a big one after this.

[stephanie-likes]

Wincest Writing Challenge  |   @stephanie-likes vs. @mybrothercomesfirst September 2017   |  Richard Silken |  Digging out the bullet and holding it up to the light

Cleaning up the Champions (AO3)

Pairing: UST Wincest Word Count: 1258 Rating: PG Tags: post-episode 11.17 Red Meat; UST; angst Summary: The brothers care for each other in the aftermath of Red Meat.

Early morning haze melted away into goldenrod overcast skies. The last struggle of a mild winter against the encroaching spring. Sam made it to the first rest stop in the passenger seat. Dean filled the Impala’s tank, went inside for provisions, and came back to find Sam sprawled in the backseat. Sam blanketed Dean’s blue jacket over his torso, having made a pillow of his own.

“Got lunch.” Dean held up a cellophane turkey and cheese sub of questionable freshness. Sam replies with a grunt as he nuzzled into a more comfortable position. “Probably a wise choice.” Dean tossed it onto the empty seat beside him. Between the pills, and the asphyxiation, his own stomach wasn’t up for more than water. Dean pushed in a cassette of Page’s best solos, turned the volume low, and pulled back on the road. The tremors in his hands hidden by a firm grip on the wheel.

Forest rolled into sands hill, flattened into plains, and grew into fields and farms with each mile closer to Kansas. With each pause in Sam’s snores, Dean flicked his eyes up to the review mirror. Around dusk his glance got met with open eyes, and a knowing half smile.

“How you feelin’?”

“Half dead.” Sam quipped.

Dean frowned, unable to properly scrutinize the various expressions, and noises Sam made as he sat up. He passed a lukewarm bottle of orange juice back. “Do you need to stop for the night?”

“I’d like to get back to the bunker.” Without the road to focus on, Sam assessed Dean minutely. “What about you?

“I’m good.”

“Should I drive?”

Dean scoffed. His grip tightened briefly, a subconscious flinch. He shifted down in his seat. The feeling of his brother’s hard look boring into the back of his skull.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice lost the teasing lilt from earlier at the clinic, now, soft, concerned, a gentle plea for openness Dean couldn’t allow, “what did you do?”

“Just adrenaline, Sammy.”  He turned the radio up, and pressed the gas pedal down.

Two days in the bunker, and Dean still hadn’t calmed down enough to sleep. In all his dreams, Sam died. He splashed cool water on his face, grabbed the first aid kit, headed down the hall. Keeping Sam confined to bed was as hard as it’d always been. Kid could spend three days futzing around on his laptop, but tell him that’s what he should be doing, and, suddenly, he wanted to do anything but.

“Pull your pants up! I’m coming in!” Dean warned in lieu of knocking, pushing into Sam’s room.

Sam sat in bed with his laptop on his thighs, two thick volumes of lore spread open to his side. A box of case files, and another of books sneaked into his room since Dean checked on him last night. He met Dean’s accusing glare with bright-eyed innocence.

“We need more contacts who aren’t broke hunters. Do you know how many potential Hands of Gods we could look into if we knew one person in the Middle East?”

Dean shook the kit at him in response. Sam set aside his computer, slid his t-shirt up to his armpits, and laid back with his arms behind his head. Dean sat in the space on the edge Sam made for him as he’d shifted. Sam watched Dean grimace at the motley of red and purple bruises covering his abdomen. Yesterday’s bandage stood out in the middle. Its stark white, almost obscene. Dean popped open the metal box.

They fell into their roles quietly, neither wasting a thought that Sam could manage his own bandage change. Letting the other tend to their wounds was a self-care indulgence they’d grown into from all the times they couldn’t. An oasis of soft caresses in a touch starved desert. Dean peeled the tape back with unsteady fingers, mumbling an apology to soothe Sam’s pain. Sunken, and bloodshot eyes scanned for busted stitches, or streaks of infection. Dean wasn’t sleeping. Dean wasn’t eating. Dean wasn’t talking.

“Dea-ah!” Sam gasped cut off when Dean pressed around the edges of the of his wound.

“As understaffed, and overworked as that doc was she patched you up good.”

“Heh. Yeah? Think I’ll be up for the prize fight?”

“Let’s see if you can survive the cleaning first.”

Sam shut his eyes. His muscles tensed in anticipation of the cold burn of antiseptic. Dean held a gauze pad close to prevent too much spread. Sam flinched when the liquid hit.

“The sting is it working” Dean draped the pad over the sutures.

Sam hummed his discomfort. He dozed to the warmth and safety of his brother pressed to his hip, preparing more tape, and gauze. Dean’s subtle movements stopped. Sam waited for the dull achy pull of the tape sticking down. When it didn’t come, Same opened his eyes. Dean’s chin rested on his chest, his eyelids heavy, but not quite shut.

Sam brushed his fingertips over Dean’s forearm. “Dean.”

“M’fine!” His brother jerked.

Sam waited until Dean had his bearings back.

“Dean.” He shouldn’t’ve had to say the next part. Dean know what came next.

Dean smoothed three edges down, tearing the final piece of tape off with his teeth to prolong the moment before an answer could be expected, but couldn’t stall more than that. “Should be good to shower tonight, or tomorrow.”

“What’d you do?”

Dean held out empty hands; shook his head. “I didn’t sell my soul.”

 One flattened silver bullet rolled smoothly between Dean’s fingers. Too small to hold all the power over life that it did. Most of the dried blood had flaked off under the constant attention Dean lavished on it in the silent hours after Sam went to bed.

Sam’s alarm went off at six in the morning, like every morning, like clockwork, because it was. Dean squirreled away his keepsake. He occupied his hands with a bottle of beer, and a thin pamphlet from a sixth century monk. The lines blurred together as they had been since he found the damned thing. Dean let them, and waited.

Forty-five minutes later, Sam rapped on the door.

“It’s open.”

Sam entered, wet, slick hair framed his face, and droplets slid down his bare chest. He held out the dented metal first aid kit. “These stitches need to come out.”

“I’ll be the judge.” Dean threw his legs over the edge, and waved Sam over using the bottom of his bottle.

The younger brother walked over, his bare feet still leaving hot foot prints on the cool floor. Sam stood in front of Dean. Dean frowned at the yellowed skin.

“Looks worse than it feels.”

“It looks like shit.” Dean gripped Sam’s hips, twisted towards and away from the light. Dean pulled at the edges, nodding. He rubbed his eyes before picking up the scissors. He pressed his left hand flat against Sam’s stomach, steadying them both. Dean snipped and slid out each stitch. With the last thread, Dean thumbed the edge of the healing bullet hole. His eyes drifted shut.

Sam covered Dean’s hand with his own. He rested his other hand on the back of Dean’s head.

“Knew you weren’t dead.”  Dean’s whispered words warmed Sam’s flesh.

Sam twisted the short, silky strands of hair in his grip, and pulled. He looked down at his brother. Exhaustion weathered the features tilted up at him, but guilt glinted in the tears at the corner of the green eyes avoiding his gaze.

 “What did you do?”

 “Anything I had to, Sammy. Always.”