sn:/pillow talk (slash version)
Feb. 4th, 2007 11:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eighth_horizonA rewrite of Pillow Talk as silly slash. Still cracktastic. 2908 words, R for language and 'boxers touching'.
Dean looked at the bed.
Sam looked at the bed.
“This is like...we’re cursed, or something,” Dean said.
“C’mon, Dean,” Sam said, throwing his backpack on the floor and shrugging out of his tweed hoodie. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“When you can’t find anything but single king-size beds in every motel for 200 miles, it says something,” Dean said. “I’m not sure what, but...something.”
Sam sighed. “Well, I’m tired, so what side do you want?”
“Both,” Dean said, heading for the bathroom.
“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” Sam said. “Dude, what is your problem? We used to share beds all the time.”
“When we were kids,” Dean said. “Now you’re...now there’s more of you.” He slammed the bathroom door.
Sam made a bitchface at the closed door, shaking his head. Then he stripped down to his boxers and got into the bed. So what if there were nothing but single king beds in every motel for 200 miles? It was just coincidence. It wasn’t like the world was conspiring against them. He sighed and turned off the light on his side of the bed. He was too tired to worry about whatever was bugging Dean right then.
Dean came out of the bathroom in his boxers and stood by the bed. “I wanted that side,” he said.
“Dean,” Sam said, “...go to sleep.”
Dean grumbled something under his breath and got in, then spent maybe a minute and a half tugging and patting at the blankets and pillows. “Don’t touch me with your goddamn cold feet,” he said. “And don’t steal the covers. And just...stay over there.”
“I’m gonna beat you until candy comes out if you don’t turn the light off and go to sleep,” Sam said through clenched teeth. “I’m serious, Dean.”
“People already think we’re a couple,” Dean blurted. “Shit, everywhere we go, somebody assumes. What the hell?”
“Is that the big problem?” Sam said, rolling over and sitting up to look at Dean with an incredulous expression. “You’re serious, this is the problem? Someone might think we’re gay? Wait, the problem is someone might think you’re gay.”
“I could totally do better than you, if I was gonna swing that way,” Dean said. “You’re obviously the chick in this relationship.”
“What relationship?” Sam said, not even attempting to keep his voice down. “Jesus, Dean, what is wrong with you?”
Dean shrugged. “I’m just...y’know, if this bugs you that much...”
Sam started to roll over again, then changed his mind, then started to get out of bed, then changed his mind. “You’re just trying to get the bed to yourself. It’s not gonna work. Go to sleep.”
“You first,” Dean said. “And stay over there.”
“I’m gonna...” Sam didn’t finish the threat, too annoyed to even come up with something better than the pinata reference. “Okay, you wanna play this game, fine. Everybody automatically assumes you’re the bottom.”
“You even know the lingo,” Dean said. “That’s great.”
“You’re obviously the macho one, all short hair and leather jacket - really gay, by the way - strutting around and smirking at everything that even comes close to being female. That’s a huge neon sign to the world, you know. Bottoms are usually submissive in bed and badass out. So they look at me and know right away that I’m the top and you’re the bottom.”
Dean nodded, tongue pushed into one cheek. “Does bottom mean what I think it does?”
“That you’re the one getting fucked? Yes, Dean,” Sam said. “Are we done, now? Can I sleep?”
Dean kept nodding. “Think about this a lot, Sam?”
Sam looked at the ceiling for a moment. It didn’t fall in on him. He was disappointed. “If you’d pull your head out occasionally, I wouldn’t have to explain the birds and bees to you,” he said. “Also, since when do you care what people think?”
“Last I checked, boy birds and boy bees don’t do each other up the ass,” Dean said.
Sam flopped back down on his pillow and rolled away. He shut his eyes and told himself that this was all a terrible dream and things would be fine in the morning.
“How do you know so much about all this anyway?” Dean said.
“Higher learning. You can’t possibly tell me you’ve never been with a guy,” Sam said. “Next you’ll be telling me you’re a virgin.”
Then he wished he’d never spoken, because Dean was leaning up on one elbow toward him. He could feel the dip in the mattress and Dean’s voice was closer. “You’ve been with a guy?”
“I didn’t say that,” Sam said impatiently. “And it’s none of your business anyway. Go. To. Sleep.”
“Don’t mistake me for your last college boyfriend, that’s all I’m saying,” Dean said. “Don’t be reaching over here and, you know, doing whatever it is...that gets done.”
“I’m not gonna molest you in your sleep, homophobe,” Sam said. “You’re not exactly my type, either.”
“What is your type?” Dean said. “I mean, I saw Jessica, right, that’s the best type. So, if you were into guys, and - “
“Not having this conversation,” Sam said. “I can and will throw your ass outside. To sleep in the car.”
“Hey,” Dean said, “You’re the one who brought it up.”
Sam’s eyes opened again against his will. “I...” he sighed. If he just stopped answering, Dean would finally run out of steam and find something else to do. He’d waited Dean out before.
“You probably go for tall geeks, like you,” Dean said. “And get all romantic or something, aw. Do guys give each other flowers? You would, I know you would. And like write long notes quoting poetry and shit...or literature. And holding hands behind the library.”
Sam thought about putting his pillow over Dean’s face. Instead he took long, slow breaths. “Shut the fuck up, Dean.”
Dean shrugged, hands folded over his stomach. “Just wondering. Don’t be so touchy, Sam. After all, you are the ‘top’.”
Sam rolled, tossed the covers back, and threw a leg over Dean before the latter could do more than frown in confusion. He sat up and straddled Dean, smirking down at him.
“Forget which side you get out on, Francis?” Dean said, blinking a little.
“My side’s the top,” Sam said. “You wanna keep talking about it so bad, then I’ll be the top.”
“Not cool, Sam,” Dean said. “Boxers should never touch each other.”
“Brothers shouldn’t talk shit about stuff without knowing what they really mean,” Sam said.
“Not my problem you can’t handle it,” Dean said, eyes traveling from Sam’s face to his knees, pressed into the bed on each side of his hips.
“You gonna stop?” Sam said. “Or do I have to make a point to you?”
Dean’s eyes lit up like Sam had known they would. Nothing like a challenge, under any circumstances. “You don’t have a chance. Cute of you to threaten, though.”
“I don’t think you get it, Dean,” Sam said. “You’ve been a really damn annoying pain in the ass all week, and I’m tired enough to do damn near anything to get you to shut up. You wanna make a bet?”
Dean folded his hands behind his head and smirked. “Bring it.”
Dean still thought Sam meant to wrestle him off the bed. Sam grinned.
“First one to put a foot on the floor gets to sleep on it,” Sam said.
“You’re on, tree-hugger,” Dean said.
“You better know what you’re agreeing to, Dean,” Sam said.
“I can take you any day,” Dean said.
Sam reached down and clapped Dean sharply on the thigh. “That’s not how a bottom talks,” he said.
He watched the light come on the rest of the way, watched the smirk dwindle to something appraising. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Sam grinned. Not the dimpled, aw shucks or goddamn can you believe that grin. The one he used when he had something in the crosshairs. He sat back on his haunches but managed not to give Dean any space with the move. “If this bugs you that much...”
“You’re not that twisted,” Dean said, but no matter how much confidence it had probably had in his head, it didn’t sound it once it hit the air. “You’re an odd duck, Sam, but...no way.”
“So we’re done here,” Sam said, spreading his arms. The moment he did, Dean folded his arms over his chest, defensive. “I win.”
“Not so fast,” Dean said. “No way I’m sleepin’ on the floor. You’re bluffing.”
Sam leaned forward suddenly, bracing his hands on either side of Dean’s shoulders, getting a glimpse of Dean scrunching his face up in dread as he pressed his own face into the crook of Dean’s neck and whispered against his skin. “Every time you talk shit, I gotta prove you wrong.”
Dean twisted away, rolling up onto his right shoulder and using his left hand to shove Sam’s head away, stiff-arming him.
But not before Sam felt him shiver.
“Jesus, Sam! Get off me.”
Sam knocked his arm away and let Dean roll onto his stomach before planting a huge hand on the side of Dean’s head and pressing it into the bed. Dean tried to get his knees under himself, then seemed to realize what a bad position that put him in. “Sam,” he growled. “This is fucked up, even for us.”
“So how come it’s fine when two women are together?” Sam said, unable to completely get the laughter out of his voice. “You love that.”
“Because chicks are hot, Sam, and you aren’t,” Dean said, trying to get a foot in Sam’s face. “And lesbians aren’t usually related, you fuckin’ weirdo.”
“So if I was ‘hot’ and not related to you, that’d be okay?” Sam said as Dean rolled again and lashed upward, getting an arm around Sam’s neck and putting him in a headlock.
Dean tried to shove Sam toward the edge of the bed, but Sam dug his knees in and put a hand down the front of Dean’s boxers.
“Holy...!” Dean let Sam go and scrambled back to the other edge of the bed. “Dude, I used to bathe you,” he said. “Not cool.” He pointed at Sam. “Just...stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”
“Are you gonna shut up about it?” Sam said. “No. You can’t. And hey, this’ll be the first bet you ever backed out on.”
Dean looked at him, open mouthed. “I’m not gonna let you psych me out,” he said.
Sam sat back on his heels, hands on hips, and grinned. “Yeah, you are. So, you can sleep on the floor because you’ve lost, or you can stay on your side and go to sleep, knowing you’ve backed out on a bet.”
Dean spread his arms. “What the hell do you want?” he said.
“Well, you know so much about what’s gay and what’s not, and you’re so concerned that someone might think you are,” Sam said. “So no big deal if another guy touches you, since you’re so knowledgeable about it.”
Dean spluttered. Actually spluttered. “You...shut up, you don’t know what I think!”
“I’m sure you’re totally impervious to anything that might be construed as gay,” Sam said. “Being all worldly and...” he waved his hand at Dean. “Experienced.”
“Okay, smartass,” Dean said. “What’re you gonna do?”
Sam grinned and scooted across the bed before he leaned in and waited for Dean to flinch. Dean didn’t, so he came closer until they were both on their knees facing each other. He was close enough to breathe on Dean, close enough to share body heat. Dean huffed a breath in what sounded like annoyance, but it touched Sam’s bare skin all the same. On the verge of laughter, bent on pushing Dean into a freakout that would lead to heebie jeebies in the parking lot in his boxers, Sam leaned in and drew his tongue along the space between neck and shoulder. He thought for just an instant that he felt Dean shiver again.
“That’s it?” Dean said. “That’s your big gay moment? Is that supposed to - “
Sam looped an arm around Dean’s neck and pulled him off balance, tossing him faceup on the bed and landing on him, grinding his hips into Dean’s. He expected to get his ass kicked and to laugh it off. What he got was a look of almost crosseyed shock that elevated to an arched back and throat when he pinned Dean’s wrists above his head.
He’d nailed a kink of Dean’s without even meaning to.
Whoops.
“Sam,” Dean gasped with eyes closed, “This is so fu–“
Sam didn’t hear stop, get off me or ow dammit so he pressed his mouth to Dean’s thinking maybe he was just finally driving the point home, because in no way was he admitting that instant of gratification or almost saying hey I kind of like you like this aloud.
He’d only been kidding. It wasn’t supposed to feel like anything.
But damn, he wasn’t going to see this again, twisted or not. When Dean pressed his lips closed against him, Sam undulated his hips a little harder and nibbled along the line of throat Dean was offering him. He waited for Dean to yell you win or twist away, and it didn’t really matter if it was his stubborn streak or not, because damn it felt good for a moment, smooth skin and compact muscle taking his weight and fitting just right. He could imagine it wasn’t Dean and make it easier, maybe, but knowing it was put a sharp thrill through the base of his spine. Feeling Dean harden against him and make a low, frustrated sound in his throat turned it into a cacophony, and when Dean flexed his hands, Sam released his wrists in favor of sliding his hands under Dean’s shoulders.
Tell me to stop and I will.
He meant to say it out loud but it didn’t happen. Dean clamped his hands on Sam’s shoulders and dug his fingers in like he meant to shove Sam away, but he also tightened his thighs against Sam’s hips and moved with him, oh Sam oh shit, okay, and Sam felt it as well as heard it with his face pressed into the side of Dean’s throat. He wanted to make more of it, however weird, wanted hands and mouth everywhere but he’d take what he had just that once. Just an accident, just a reaction to everything they’d been through, just an instant of bad judgment.
Just a few frantic moments of heat and friction and a typical response to both, that was all, he could back off any time he wanted to. That went right to hell when Dean tensed even further and dug his heels right into the small of Sam’s back and pulled his hair and yelped.
The idea of Dean wrapping his legs around him and coming was pretty much what threw Sam right off the edge.
It had been years since he’d taken, what, less than a goddamn minute to get off.
What the fuck.
He lay there, out of breath, unable to do more than brace himself on his elbows with his arms still wrapped around Dean, trying not to think it hadn’t really even been his best try, not much of anything, so --
“If I didn’t kiss you then it wasn’t gay,” Dean said hoarsely.
Sam breathed against Dean’s chest and felt a laugh building, warring with annoyance and amazement. “That’s really...Pretty Woman of you,” he said.
“Shut up,” Dean said. But, Christ, he shivered again and Sam felt it.
“Okay.”
Sam laid there and tried very hard to rationalize the whole thing and figured that would work itself out sooner or later, just not right then. It wasn’t like they’d even...
“So I win,” Dean said. “Now get off me.”
“You came first,” Sam whispered against Dean’s sternum.
“You did all the work,” Dean said. When Sam hazarded a glance at his face, Dean was resolutely looking at the ceiling, seemingly impassive. Except for the hand still in Sam’s hair.
“Top,” Sam said.
“I kind of noticed that,” Dean said. “Lesson’s over. Point made, put it down to just being really tired and really...accidental.”
Sam pushed himself up and got as far as leaning back on his knees again before Dean went for a parting shot.
“And you didn’t get me naked, either. So I still w–“
Sam hooked his fingers into Dean’s boxers and stripped them off him.
None of what happened after enticed Dean to give up and sleep on the floor.
-|-
Sam woke at first light to the odd comfort of a warm breathing weight draped over his back and a face pressed into the crook of neck and shoulder. Dean’s left hand lay open, palm up, inches from his face.
Dean was a closet cuddler. Among other things.
Sam grinned but was careful not to laugh. He wanted so badly to rag Dean into the floor about it, but he just couldn’t. He’d go back to sleep, or pretend he was sleeping, and Dean would eventually wake and remember everything and act like he was being electrocuted as he scrambled out of bed.
Sam went back to sleep, knowing it was damn weird even for them but unable to regret it.
They had, after all, finally called it a draw.
-|-
Dean looked at the bed.
Sam looked at the bed.
“This is like...we’re cursed, or something,” Dean said.
“C’mon, Dean,” Sam said, throwing his backpack on the floor and shrugging out of his tweed hoodie. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“When you can’t find anything but single king-size beds in every motel for 200 miles, it says something,” Dean said. “I’m not sure what, but...something.”
Sam sighed. “Well, I’m tired, so what side do you want?”
“Both,” Dean said, heading for the bathroom.
“I’m not sleeping on the floor,” Sam said. “Dude, what is your problem? We used to share beds all the time.”
“When we were kids,” Dean said. “Now you’re...now there’s more of you.” He slammed the bathroom door.
Sam made a bitchface at the closed door, shaking his head. Then he stripped down to his boxers and got into the bed. So what if there were nothing but single king beds in every motel for 200 miles? It was just coincidence. It wasn’t like the world was conspiring against them. He sighed and turned off the light on his side of the bed. He was too tired to worry about whatever was bugging Dean right then.
Dean came out of the bathroom in his boxers and stood by the bed. “I wanted that side,” he said.
“Dean,” Sam said, “...go to sleep.”
Dean grumbled something under his breath and got in, then spent maybe a minute and a half tugging and patting at the blankets and pillows. “Don’t touch me with your goddamn cold feet,” he said. “And don’t steal the covers. And just...stay over there.”
“I’m gonna beat you until candy comes out if you don’t turn the light off and go to sleep,” Sam said through clenched teeth. “I’m serious, Dean.”
“People already think we’re a couple,” Dean blurted. “Shit, everywhere we go, somebody assumes. What the hell?”
“Is that the big problem?” Sam said, rolling over and sitting up to look at Dean with an incredulous expression. “You’re serious, this is the problem? Someone might think we’re gay? Wait, the problem is someone might think you’re gay.”
“I could totally do better than you, if I was gonna swing that way,” Dean said. “You’re obviously the chick in this relationship.”
“What relationship?” Sam said, not even attempting to keep his voice down. “Jesus, Dean, what is wrong with you?”
Dean shrugged. “I’m just...y’know, if this bugs you that much...”
Sam started to roll over again, then changed his mind, then started to get out of bed, then changed his mind. “You’re just trying to get the bed to yourself. It’s not gonna work. Go to sleep.”
“You first,” Dean said. “And stay over there.”
“I’m gonna...” Sam didn’t finish the threat, too annoyed to even come up with something better than the pinata reference. “Okay, you wanna play this game, fine. Everybody automatically assumes you’re the bottom.”
“You even know the lingo,” Dean said. “That’s great.”
“You’re obviously the macho one, all short hair and leather jacket - really gay, by the way - strutting around and smirking at everything that even comes close to being female. That’s a huge neon sign to the world, you know. Bottoms are usually submissive in bed and badass out. So they look at me and know right away that I’m the top and you’re the bottom.”
Dean nodded, tongue pushed into one cheek. “Does bottom mean what I think it does?”
“That you’re the one getting fucked? Yes, Dean,” Sam said. “Are we done, now? Can I sleep?”
Dean kept nodding. “Think about this a lot, Sam?”
Sam looked at the ceiling for a moment. It didn’t fall in on him. He was disappointed. “If you’d pull your head out occasionally, I wouldn’t have to explain the birds and bees to you,” he said. “Also, since when do you care what people think?”
“Last I checked, boy birds and boy bees don’t do each other up the ass,” Dean said.
Sam flopped back down on his pillow and rolled away. He shut his eyes and told himself that this was all a terrible dream and things would be fine in the morning.
“How do you know so much about all this anyway?” Dean said.
“Higher learning. You can’t possibly tell me you’ve never been with a guy,” Sam said. “Next you’ll be telling me you’re a virgin.”
Then he wished he’d never spoken, because Dean was leaning up on one elbow toward him. He could feel the dip in the mattress and Dean’s voice was closer. “You’ve been with a guy?”
“I didn’t say that,” Sam said impatiently. “And it’s none of your business anyway. Go. To. Sleep.”
“Don’t mistake me for your last college boyfriend, that’s all I’m saying,” Dean said. “Don’t be reaching over here and, you know, doing whatever it is...that gets done.”
“I’m not gonna molest you in your sleep, homophobe,” Sam said. “You’re not exactly my type, either.”
“What is your type?” Dean said. “I mean, I saw Jessica, right, that’s the best type. So, if you were into guys, and - “
“Not having this conversation,” Sam said. “I can and will throw your ass outside. To sleep in the car.”
“Hey,” Dean said, “You’re the one who brought it up.”
Sam’s eyes opened again against his will. “I...” he sighed. If he just stopped answering, Dean would finally run out of steam and find something else to do. He’d waited Dean out before.
“You probably go for tall geeks, like you,” Dean said. “And get all romantic or something, aw. Do guys give each other flowers? You would, I know you would. And like write long notes quoting poetry and shit...or literature. And holding hands behind the library.”
Sam thought about putting his pillow over Dean’s face. Instead he took long, slow breaths. “Shut the fuck up, Dean.”
Dean shrugged, hands folded over his stomach. “Just wondering. Don’t be so touchy, Sam. After all, you are the ‘top’.”
Sam rolled, tossed the covers back, and threw a leg over Dean before the latter could do more than frown in confusion. He sat up and straddled Dean, smirking down at him.
“Forget which side you get out on, Francis?” Dean said, blinking a little.
“My side’s the top,” Sam said. “You wanna keep talking about it so bad, then I’ll be the top.”
“Not cool, Sam,” Dean said. “Boxers should never touch each other.”
“Brothers shouldn’t talk shit about stuff without knowing what they really mean,” Sam said.
“Not my problem you can’t handle it,” Dean said, eyes traveling from Sam’s face to his knees, pressed into the bed on each side of his hips.
“You gonna stop?” Sam said. “Or do I have to make a point to you?”
Dean’s eyes lit up like Sam had known they would. Nothing like a challenge, under any circumstances. “You don’t have a chance. Cute of you to threaten, though.”
“I don’t think you get it, Dean,” Sam said. “You’ve been a really damn annoying pain in the ass all week, and I’m tired enough to do damn near anything to get you to shut up. You wanna make a bet?”
Dean folded his hands behind his head and smirked. “Bring it.”
Dean still thought Sam meant to wrestle him off the bed. Sam grinned.
“First one to put a foot on the floor gets to sleep on it,” Sam said.
“You’re on, tree-hugger,” Dean said.
“You better know what you’re agreeing to, Dean,” Sam said.
“I can take you any day,” Dean said.
Sam reached down and clapped Dean sharply on the thigh. “That’s not how a bottom talks,” he said.
He watched the light come on the rest of the way, watched the smirk dwindle to something appraising. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Sam grinned. Not the dimpled, aw shucks or goddamn can you believe that grin. The one he used when he had something in the crosshairs. He sat back on his haunches but managed not to give Dean any space with the move. “If this bugs you that much...”
“You’re not that twisted,” Dean said, but no matter how much confidence it had probably had in his head, it didn’t sound it once it hit the air. “You’re an odd duck, Sam, but...no way.”
“So we’re done here,” Sam said, spreading his arms. The moment he did, Dean folded his arms over his chest, defensive. “I win.”
“Not so fast,” Dean said. “No way I’m sleepin’ on the floor. You’re bluffing.”
Sam leaned forward suddenly, bracing his hands on either side of Dean’s shoulders, getting a glimpse of Dean scrunching his face up in dread as he pressed his own face into the crook of Dean’s neck and whispered against his skin. “Every time you talk shit, I gotta prove you wrong.”
Dean twisted away, rolling up onto his right shoulder and using his left hand to shove Sam’s head away, stiff-arming him.
But not before Sam felt him shiver.
“Jesus, Sam! Get off me.”
Sam knocked his arm away and let Dean roll onto his stomach before planting a huge hand on the side of Dean’s head and pressing it into the bed. Dean tried to get his knees under himself, then seemed to realize what a bad position that put him in. “Sam,” he growled. “This is fucked up, even for us.”
“So how come it’s fine when two women are together?” Sam said, unable to completely get the laughter out of his voice. “You love that.”
“Because chicks are hot, Sam, and you aren’t,” Dean said, trying to get a foot in Sam’s face. “And lesbians aren’t usually related, you fuckin’ weirdo.”
“So if I was ‘hot’ and not related to you, that’d be okay?” Sam said as Dean rolled again and lashed upward, getting an arm around Sam’s neck and putting him in a headlock.
Dean tried to shove Sam toward the edge of the bed, but Sam dug his knees in and put a hand down the front of Dean’s boxers.
“Holy...!” Dean let Sam go and scrambled back to the other edge of the bed. “Dude, I used to bathe you,” he said. “Not cool.” He pointed at Sam. “Just...stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”
“Are you gonna shut up about it?” Sam said. “No. You can’t. And hey, this’ll be the first bet you ever backed out on.”
Dean looked at him, open mouthed. “I’m not gonna let you psych me out,” he said.
Sam sat back on his heels, hands on hips, and grinned. “Yeah, you are. So, you can sleep on the floor because you’ve lost, or you can stay on your side and go to sleep, knowing you’ve backed out on a bet.”
Dean spread his arms. “What the hell do you want?” he said.
“Well, you know so much about what’s gay and what’s not, and you’re so concerned that someone might think you are,” Sam said. “So no big deal if another guy touches you, since you’re so knowledgeable about it.”
Dean spluttered. Actually spluttered. “You...shut up, you don’t know what I think!”
“I’m sure you’re totally impervious to anything that might be construed as gay,” Sam said. “Being all worldly and...” he waved his hand at Dean. “Experienced.”
“Okay, smartass,” Dean said. “What’re you gonna do?”
Sam grinned and scooted across the bed before he leaned in and waited for Dean to flinch. Dean didn’t, so he came closer until they were both on their knees facing each other. He was close enough to breathe on Dean, close enough to share body heat. Dean huffed a breath in what sounded like annoyance, but it touched Sam’s bare skin all the same. On the verge of laughter, bent on pushing Dean into a freakout that would lead to heebie jeebies in the parking lot in his boxers, Sam leaned in and drew his tongue along the space between neck and shoulder. He thought for just an instant that he felt Dean shiver again.
“That’s it?” Dean said. “That’s your big gay moment? Is that supposed to - “
Sam looped an arm around Dean’s neck and pulled him off balance, tossing him faceup on the bed and landing on him, grinding his hips into Dean’s. He expected to get his ass kicked and to laugh it off. What he got was a look of almost crosseyed shock that elevated to an arched back and throat when he pinned Dean’s wrists above his head.
He’d nailed a kink of Dean’s without even meaning to.
Whoops.
“Sam,” Dean gasped with eyes closed, “This is so fu–“
Sam didn’t hear stop, get off me or ow dammit so he pressed his mouth to Dean’s thinking maybe he was just finally driving the point home, because in no way was he admitting that instant of gratification or almost saying hey I kind of like you like this aloud.
He’d only been kidding. It wasn’t supposed to feel like anything.
But damn, he wasn’t going to see this again, twisted or not. When Dean pressed his lips closed against him, Sam undulated his hips a little harder and nibbled along the line of throat Dean was offering him. He waited for Dean to yell you win or twist away, and it didn’t really matter if it was his stubborn streak or not, because damn it felt good for a moment, smooth skin and compact muscle taking his weight and fitting just right. He could imagine it wasn’t Dean and make it easier, maybe, but knowing it was put a sharp thrill through the base of his spine. Feeling Dean harden against him and make a low, frustrated sound in his throat turned it into a cacophony, and when Dean flexed his hands, Sam released his wrists in favor of sliding his hands under Dean’s shoulders.
Tell me to stop and I will.
He meant to say it out loud but it didn’t happen. Dean clamped his hands on Sam’s shoulders and dug his fingers in like he meant to shove Sam away, but he also tightened his thighs against Sam’s hips and moved with him, oh Sam oh shit, okay, and Sam felt it as well as heard it with his face pressed into the side of Dean’s throat. He wanted to make more of it, however weird, wanted hands and mouth everywhere but he’d take what he had just that once. Just an accident, just a reaction to everything they’d been through, just an instant of bad judgment.
Just a few frantic moments of heat and friction and a typical response to both, that was all, he could back off any time he wanted to. That went right to hell when Dean tensed even further and dug his heels right into the small of Sam’s back and pulled his hair and yelped.
The idea of Dean wrapping his legs around him and coming was pretty much what threw Sam right off the edge.
It had been years since he’d taken, what, less than a goddamn minute to get off.
What the fuck.
He lay there, out of breath, unable to do more than brace himself on his elbows with his arms still wrapped around Dean, trying not to think it hadn’t really even been his best try, not much of anything, so --
“If I didn’t kiss you then it wasn’t gay,” Dean said hoarsely.
Sam breathed against Dean’s chest and felt a laugh building, warring with annoyance and amazement. “That’s really...Pretty Woman of you,” he said.
“Shut up,” Dean said. But, Christ, he shivered again and Sam felt it.
“Okay.”
Sam laid there and tried very hard to rationalize the whole thing and figured that would work itself out sooner or later, just not right then. It wasn’t like they’d even...
“So I win,” Dean said. “Now get off me.”
“You came first,” Sam whispered against Dean’s sternum.
“You did all the work,” Dean said. When Sam hazarded a glance at his face, Dean was resolutely looking at the ceiling, seemingly impassive. Except for the hand still in Sam’s hair.
“Top,” Sam said.
“I kind of noticed that,” Dean said. “Lesson’s over. Point made, put it down to just being really tired and really...accidental.”
Sam pushed himself up and got as far as leaning back on his knees again before Dean went for a parting shot.
“And you didn’t get me naked, either. So I still w–“
Sam hooked his fingers into Dean’s boxers and stripped them off him.
None of what happened after enticed Dean to give up and sleep on the floor.
-|-
Sam woke at first light to the odd comfort of a warm breathing weight draped over his back and a face pressed into the crook of neck and shoulder. Dean’s left hand lay open, palm up, inches from his face.
Dean was a closet cuddler. Among other things.
Sam grinned but was careful not to laugh. He wanted so badly to rag Dean into the floor about it, but he just couldn’t. He’d go back to sleep, or pretend he was sleeping, and Dean would eventually wake and remember everything and act like he was being electrocuted as he scrambled out of bed.
Sam went back to sleep, knowing it was damn weird even for them but unable to regret it.
They had, after all, finally called it a draw.
-|-
