Orlando: Part Three
Nov. 27th, 2018 02:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayMasterlist
Part Two
***
Sam woke up alone in bed, instantly remembering the events of the night before. He sat bolt upright, heart pounding. The room was empty and silent. He felt like there was ice in his veins. Had Dean panicked, and run?
The motel room door opened, and Dean came in with a McDonald’s bag and a cup holder with two big cups of coffee. He looked slightly surprised to see Sam awake.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he said. “You were dead asleep. I thought the smell of coffee was the only thing that’d get you up.”
Sam relaxed slightly. Dean seemed strained; his eyes a bit too wide, his cheery morning conversation a little forced. But he hadn’t run, and he was at least trying to act normal. He sat down at the little table and handed Sam a cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” Sam said, accepting it and sipping it gratefully. Dean was wearing one of the pairs of jeans he’d bought at Target, with a fairly conservative scoop-neck tee. He adjusted his bra, making a face.
“These things suck,” he complained.
Sam laughed. “That’s the patriarchy for you,” he replied. His stomach rumbled, and he realized they’d slept through dinner the night before. Not surprising, between the sex and how little sleep they’d gotten after their adventure in the cemetery.
Dean threw him a breakfast sandwich and Sam tore into it. They ate in silence, and Sam wondered if he should say something. Should he let Dean bring it up? Were they never going to talk about what had happened? He knew it was more than likely a one-time thing. Dean was straight. He’d been curious what sex was like for women, that was all. Sam knew he should keep his mouth shut and count himself lucky that Dean wasn’t freaking out.
After he was finished eating, Sam started to get out of bed. Dean jumped up from the table. “Hey, I think it’s been awhile since I sharpened the knife,” he muttered. Sam stared at Dean’s back. He’d seen Dean sharpen the demon-killing knife two days ago, and knew it was a flimsy excuse not to accidentally see Sam naked again.
Sam sighed, careful to keep it inaudible, and pulled his boxer briefs on. “I’m gonna shower,” he said, and padded to the bathroom.
As the hot water poured over him, Sam shut his eyes against the tears that sprung up suddenly. It felt like he was washing the night with Dean away; something precious he’d never get back. He steeled himself and thought how at least he’d had it once, more than he’d ever thought he’d get. At least he had the memories. At least he still had Dean in his life.
When he came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and wishing he’d brought clothes into the bathroom with him, the room looked like a hurricane had hit it. Dean was nowhere to be seen. Sam looked around, frowning, and managed to locate some of his clean clothing. Just as he was buttoning his shirt, Dean came back into the room, face a dark cloud, banging the door shut behind him.
“Dean, what – ”
“I can’t find the knife,” Dean said. “I looked everywhere. I just checked the Impala, but it’s not there.” Sam’s eyes widened. It was one of their best weapons, and its loss would be a serious blow.
“Think,” he said. “When was the last time you had it?”
Dean was pacing. “I don’t know, man, I usually make sure one of us has it when we go out on a job, so – ” He stopped and looked at Sam. “The cemetery. I brought it, cause you never know when fucking demons are going to show up somewhere. Then I fell, and when I got whammied, none of my clothes fit – ”
Sam nodded. “It probably fell out of your pocket. Let’s go.”
***
It was another beautiful fall day, but Sam and Dean were in no mood to enjoy it. They parked near Consecration Dell and walked rapidly down the path.
“Fuck, I really don’t want to have to ask if there’s a lost and found,” Dean moaned. “‘Scuse me, has any groundskeeper run across an ancient knife with creepy sigils on it? Asking for a friend.’”
Sam snorted, then slowed his pace slightly, realizing Dean sounded a little out of breath. He kept forgetting about their increased height difference.
They split up when they got to the pond, and after a couple minutes, Dean, who was in the reeds at the edge of the pool and practically wading into the water, crowed triumphantly.
“Found it!” he said, relief evident in his voice. “How did it get in here?”
“In all the commotion, someone must have kicked it, or something,” Sam said. Dean wiped the blade off on his jacket sleeve.
They heard the voices of people coming down the path, and Dean stowed the knife quickly in his jacket pocket.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to find it,” a voice was saying. “Or maybe they have a lost and found, and somebody turned it in.”
A woman with a taller companion turned the corner, and Sam’s gun was in his hand in a second, pointed at them both. “Don’t move!” he shouted. “Dean, it’s her!”
“You sure?” Dean asked. “Or are you terrorizing some tourists right now?”
“I’m sure,” Sam said. He recognized her now, too, as the same woman they’d seen a couple days before, with the same tall woman she’d been with then. The witch was dressed in all black again, although she had less jewelry today. She and her companion had frozen, and they looked terrified. Strange behavior for a witch, but Sam was certain it was her.
“You’re going to undo what you did to my brother,” Sam said, jerking his head toward Dean.
“Your brother?” The witch looked at Dean, frowning, and then understanding dawned on her face. She pointed at Dean. “Alison! Your earring!” She looked back at Sam, and the gun, and gulped.
“Please don’t hurt us,” she said, her voice shaky with fear. “I can fix your brother. I’m so sorry. This was all a big mistake.”
Sam glanced at Dean, who nodded. He let his arms fall to his sides, but didn’t put the gun away.
“Come with us,” he said.
***
The witch – Serena was the name she gave them – started trying to explain as they hustled her and Alison to the car, but Dean gave her a look.
“Free advice, don’t talk black magic in public,” he said. She glared tearily at him.
“It’s not black magic,” she said defensively.
After they got into the car and closed the doors, she started talking immediately.
“I don’t do black magic,” she said. “Alison is – “ She glanced at her companion.
“It’s okay,” Alison said quietly. “I’m trans.”
“Oh,” Dean said, a little too loudly. Sam looked embarrassed.
“My insurance won’t cover surgery,” Alison continued. “Serena wanted to help me be who I really am.”
“The earring was the hardest part,” Serena said. “It took months to create the spell and affix it to the earring. And the ingredients were rare, and expensive. The other night was just to bind it to Alison. But you fell into the circle, and everything went to hell, and the earring ended up with you.”
“Why can’t I take it off?” Dean asked.
“For Alison’s protection. That was another layer of spells; I made it so only she could remove it, so it couldn’t fall out and no one could ever take it off her against her will.”
“That’s…actually really smart,” Sam said.
“Why the fuck were you doing the last spell in a cemetery?” Dean demanded.
Serena’s lip quivered. “We love Mount Auburn. I just wanted her to get to be reborn in a beautiful place.”
Alison smiled at Serena and took her hand, raising it to her lips and kissing Serena’s fingers softly.
Dean blinked, then recovered himself. “Very romantic,” he said. “Next time, maybe just do it in your apartment.” Sam elbowed him in the ribs and he rolled his eyes. “Okay, so, what do you need to undo me?”
“Nothing,” Serena said, sounding surprised. Alison reached out with her free hand and gently plucked the earring from Dean’s ear. Dean shuddered, that weird feeling coming over him again, and he shut his eyes. It didn’t last long, and when he opened them again, Sam was staring at him with an unreadable expression.
“Am I me?” Dean asked, but he could hear it in his voice. He looked down, and was a little sad to see his breasts gone. All his clothing was too tight now, including –
“Fucking bra,” he muttered, reaching around to his back and trying to get it off. Serena giggled, and he glared at her. She clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Can we go?” she asked, after a second.
“Hold on, hold on,” Dean muttered, popping open his fly.
“Dean, for god’s sake,” Sam protested. Alison and Serena looked carefully out the backseat car windows.
“I gotta make sure nothing’s missing!” Dean said. He pulled his panties away from his body – damn, he was kind of going to miss those – and checked. When he looked up again, Sam was staring straight ahead.
“Everything appears to be in order,” Dean said, zipping up his jeans again. “You ladies can go. Try not to do any more satanic rituals in cemeteries at midnight, okay? It looks sketchy as fuck.”
“It wasn’t satanic – ” Serena started to say indignantly, but Alison put a hand on her arm, grinning and shaking her head.
“Thanks for getting this back to us,” Alison said. “I can’t even tell you what it means to me.”
“I’m glad it worked out,” Sam said, smiling at her. Dean gave Sam a look, as Alison and Serena got out of the car and walked off down the path.
“What?” Sam said. “They’re cute.”
Dean made a face and started the car. “Whatever,” he said. “I need to get back to the motel room and change.”
***
They were silent on the way back to the motel, and in the room, as they started re-gathering their belongings after Dean had changed back into his old clothes. Sam almost said something about how Dean had wrecked the room, some stupid joke or complaint just to get the conversation going, but he didn’t have the spirit.
It was over, him and Dean – he knew that. Not as brothers, or hunting companions, but as lovers. Sam tried to convince himself that it might be easier now, having gotten it out of his system, maybe, or at least gotten to be with Dean once, but he knew better. Maybe it would be easier, down the line. But at the moment, it was much, much worse. Sam had to force himself to keep his eyes off Dean, remembering what it had felt like, desperate to know what it would be like now that Dean was himself again. How he would sound – how he would feel –
Dean sighed loudly. Sam looked over at him and saw that he was holding the denim dress, staring down at it with a wistful expression.
“You okay?” Sam said, voice coming out hoarser than he had intended. He cleared his throat and tried to put on a neutral, sympathetic face, but something must have shown in his eyes, because Dean looked at him for a beat too long before answering.
“Yeah, of course,” Dean said. He looked at the dress again, stroking it with one hand. Sam frowned.
“Dean, are you – ” Dean looked up at him with raised eyebrows. Sam cleared his throat again. “I just mean, if you were trans, or any kind of genderqueer, I wouldn’t judge you – “
Dean burst out laughing, a genuine laugh which made Sam smile a little, despite the weight in his chest. “Nah, Sammy, I never wanted to stay a chick. Just, it was fun, you know?” He glanced at the dress, and his smile faded. He sighed again and shoved the dress into his duffel bag. “I guess I wouldn’t have minded if I’d gotten to enjoy it for a little longer. Cause it was fun. Right?”
He finally looked up at Sam, something vulnerable and worried showing through the mask he always tried to wear, and Sam knew he was talking about last night. Sam nodded, quickly.
“Really fun,” he said, and gave Dean a small smile. Dean smiled back, looking relieved. Sam felt a little better; not much, but a little. At least it didn’t seem like Dean was going to have a total emotional breakdown about their sex.
“We’re paid through tomorrow; guess we might as well stay, huh?” Dean said. “Make sure we ganked the right ghost?”
Sam nodded. “Sounds good. Want to get some lunch? I guess you’ll want Wild Willy’s again, huh?”
Dean gave a half-shrug. “I’m not that hungry,” he said. Off Sam’s worried look, he rolled his eyes. “Relax, man. Maybe for dinner.”
“Okay,” Sam said, deciding not to push it. After they finished putting the room back in order, Dean turned on the TV and Sam opened his laptop, checking the local news for more deaths at the theater, or anything else that looked suspicious. There was nothing, and so he started checking the national news, hunting for a case they could head off to the next day.
After about half an hour, Dean got up from his bed and went to his duffel, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. Sam watched him with a bemused expression.
“Want some?” Dean asked, when he caught Sam’s look.
Sam considered responding with the bitchy It’s one p.m., Dean, that his brother was surely anticipating, but…why not?
“Sure,” he said, chin raised a little, in defiance of expectations.
Dean looked taken aback for a moment, then chuckled. “Atta boy,” he said. He got their cups from the bathroom and poured them each a generous amount.
They drank in silence, as Dean watched TV and Sam tried to keep looking for a case and not look at Dean, who was sprawled out in a lazy, comfortable way that made Sam ache. If he could just crawl onto the bed and straddle him and –
“What?” Dean said, feeling his eyes and catching him staring. Sam quickly turned away.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Didn’t look like nothing,” Dean said.
Sam shook his head and stared blindly at his laptop screen. The room felt suddenly too close, the air too warm, and he couldn’t get a breath; every time he tried, all he could smell was Dean, all he could think of was Dean’s skin under his hands, Dean’s face when he’d pushed inside him…
“Too bad I couldn’t’ve kept Alison’s earring for just one more night, huh?” Dean said suddenly. Sam looked at him again, but Dean was staring into his cup, one hand anxiously twisting around the bottom. Was Dean blushing? He must have drunk more than Sam had realized.
Sam tried to think of what to say, desperate to figure out if Dean was getting at what he hoped Dean was getting at. Was Sam just seeing what he wanted to be there? Did Dean just want to talk about something related to that specific scenario?
He took too long about it, because after a moment Dean gave a forced laugh. “I know, I’m totally fucked up for wanting another crazy night with my…” He seemed to choke on the word ‘brother,’ and took a long drink of whiskey.
“Dean, no,” Sam said quickly. Dean still wasn’t looking at him, and Sam knew he’d better talk fast. “I mean…it’d be fun if you still had it. I’d definitely be up for a second round with you like that, but…” He swallowed, praying he wasn’t about to make Dean bolt. “But I don’t care what you look like, or what equipment you’ve got. I’d do – that – or whatever, something like it – no matter what.”
Dean looked at him quickly, eyes wide. “Really?”
Sam nodded. “Anytime.”
Dean swallowed hard and looked back at his whiskey glass. “Do you think though…isn’t it, you know…totally fucked up?”
Sam shrugged, trying to fight down the hope blossoming in his heart, the ache that made him want so badly to touch Dean and tell him it was okay, that it was right for them. He forced calm into his voice. “Maybe. But so what? Our lives have always been fucked up. And I don’t care if this is, too.”
Dean was looking at him from the corner of his eyes. “So you’d…want to?”
Sam nodded again. “More than you know,” he said, and he hadn’t meant for the words to come out so husky, but Dean turned towards him, and put his cup down on the bedside table. He stopped then, hesitating, eyes still wide, and Sam put his own cup down and crawled onto the bed.
For a second they just lay on their sides, staring at each other, and then Sam reached out and touched Dean’s cheek, terrified to lose this momentum. Dean’s eyelids fluttered half-closed, then opened again quickly.
“Are you sure you wanna do it with me like this?” he said. “Like…” He gestured down at his body. “Regular me?”
“It’s all I’ve been able to think about,” Sam said. His eyes flicked down Dean’s body, without his volition. “For years.” His eyes met Dean’s again. Dean’s mouth was half-open, and Sam couldn’t resist leaning forward and pressing his lips to Dean’s in a warm kiss.
Dean sucked in a breath and kissed Sam back eagerly, tongue sliding into Sam’s mouth. Sam closed the gap between them, pressing his body to Dean’s, letting his hands roam over the planes of Dean’s shoulders and back. It was like a second first time, almost; Dean smelled almost the same, but his body was different, and even the noises he made were unexpected in his deeper voice.
And the length of his cock, hardening against Sam’s hip, was all new. Sam pulled away from Dean’s mouth to work with feverish fingers at Dean’s jeans, consumed with the desire to see the thing he’d fantasized about since he was a teenager. Dean was breathing hard and didn’t say a word as Sam opened his jeans. As Sam looked in, he paused.
Dean was still wearing panties; different from yesterday’s, but still black, still silky and lacy. Sam looked up into Dean’s face. Dean was bright pink.
“They were comfy,” he mumbled.
“They look awesome,” Sam said. He’d been planning to pull Dean’s underwear straight off, but instead he caressed Dean’s cock through his panties, enjoying the smooth fabric under his fingers, and the way Dean twitched and moaned at his touch. Sam kept it up, palming the bulge until Dean was rutting against his hand and there was a wet spot where the head pressed against the fabric.
Finally, almost reluctant, Sam pushed Dean’s jeans and panties down so Dean’s cock sprang free. He examined it for a long moment, one hand on Dean’s hip, thumb circling on his skin.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Dean snapped finally.
“Don’t tempt me,” Sam said, almost absently. He looked up to see Dean staring at him, mouth agape. Sam laughed and kissed Dean, then pushed him onto his back and slid down his body. He shoved Dean’s shirt up a little and mouthed at his stomach and hipbone for a minute, but he couldn’t make himself wait any longer and he sucked Dean’s cock down as far as he could. Dean groaned, his hips rising. Sam let himself explore, with lips and tongue and gentle teeth, listening to Dean’s hitched breaths and little pleasure sounds, taking his time and soaking this in.
When he was satisfied – for the moment – he pulled off, keeping his hand wrapped around Dean’s dick in a firm grip, but barely moving it. He kissed Dean soundly, then moved to his jaw and neck, enjoying the scratch of stubble, nipping at Dean’s earlobe.
“Want you to fuck me,” he breathed, into Dean’s ear, and Dean jerked violently, looking at him with eyes gone wide as saucers again, his body rigid.
“No way,” he said immediately. “What if I hurt you or something? You can do me.”
“It’s my turn,” Sam said. “I deserve to get plowed by a hot guy, too.”
Dean blinked rapidly at him. “But – “
Sam let his face go soft, his eyes big; Dean would do almost anything when Sam gave him that look. “Please, Dean?” He stroked Dean’s cock rapidly a few times before stilling his hand again, just for good measure.
Dean shut his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temple. “Fuck, Sam, god damn it,” he said helplessly, and Sam knew he’d won.
He started pulling Dean’s clothing off eagerly, and Dean was undressing him just as fast, except that they kept getting in each other’s way, or stopping to kiss and run their hands all over each other, so it took longer than it should have. Eventually, though, they were both naked. Sam tossed Dean the lube and flopped down on the bed on his stomach. Something occurred to him and he looked back at Dean with a frown.
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yeah, shut up, it’s not my first time,” Dean grumbled. Sam wondered what else he didn’t know about his brother.
Maybe, now, he’d be able to find out.
Dean’s preparation of him was slow, and so, so careful. Sam knew nothing in the world would make Dean go faster than he thought was necessary, so Sam just relaxed and enjoyed it, spreading his legs wide and letting Dean open him up. The knowledge of even just Dean’s fingers inside him was enough to keep him hard, and whenever Dean hit his prostate, Sam moaned and pushed into the bed.
Sam was practically begging by the time Dean judged it was enough. Dean leaned over him and kissed his shoulder. Sam arched up into him, loving the warmth of Dean at his back. Then Dean withdrew again, and there was a long pause.
So long, eventually, that Sam became concerned. He looked back to see Dean staring at his body with a terrified expression.
“I can’t do it,” he said bleakly. “I want to – fuck, I want to, but – what if I hurt you, Sammy?”
His eyes met Sam’s, and Sam felt a rush of pity at the fear there. He sat up and kissed Dean hard.
“It’s okay,” Sam said. “I got it. Lie down. On your back, okay?”
Dean let out a slow, shuddering breath and obeyed. Sam straddled his hips and reached behind himself to stroke Dean’s flagging erection back to full hardness.
“I’m gonna ride you, all right?” Sam said. “That way I’ll know right away if anything’s wrong and I can stop. Okay?” God, he hoped it would be enough. He was going crazy after all that preparation, and he wanted Dean inside him more than he’d wanted almost anything in his whole life.
He breathed an internal sigh of relief at Dean’s eager nod. And his dick in Sam’s hand was hard again, so Sam slicked it with lube and then positioned himself carefully.
After all Dean’s work on him, the head breaching him barely hurt at all. Sam sank down slowly onto his brother’s cock, gasping at how good it felt to be filled up like this. And it was Dean.
“Ohfuckohfuck Sammy,” Dean was babbling, hands squeezing Sam’s thighs. “Oh god, you okay? All right?”
“So fucking good,” Sam managed to get. “Dean, you don’t even know…”
Dean gave a strangled laugh. “Well…I kinda do.”
Sam chuckled and kissed him quickly, then sat back up, letting his hips rise and fall, adjusting his position until Dean’s cock was hitting his prostate on almost every stroke. He went slowly at first, trying to draw this out, but then Dean wrapped a hand around his cock and started jerking him, and suddenly Sam was bouncing on Dean’s dick without even meaning to, biting his lip so he wouldn’t cry out too loudly.
“Sammy…” Dean was saying, in this amazed voice that made Sam feel crazy with need, and as he felt his orgasm approaching he drove himself back onto Dean’s cock and came with a groan over Dean’s hand.
And Dean’s chest, Sam realized when he looked down. Dean had let go of Sam’s cock when he was done and grabbed his hips, and Sam kept still as Dean thrust up into him. Dean’s back and neck arched as he came, crying out a wordless sound. Sam could feel Dean pulsing inside him and thought dizzily that this was the best his life had ever been.
Dean pulled him down and kissed him hard, and Sam lay on Dean’s chest, face pressed into Dean’s neck, trusting that enough of his weight was still on his legs that he wasn’t crushing his brother. Dean’s fingers were in his hair, and Sam stroked Dean’s shoulder with his thumb.
After a moment, Dean shifted, and it occurred to Sam suddenly to be worried again about this, and about if Dean could handle it, because if he couldn’t, Sam wasn’t sure he could go back to pretending that there was nothing between them. To being with Dean all the time and never touch him like this, never get to do all the other firsts they still had left to do…
“Dude, get off me,” Dean said, and Sam froze, heart hammering in his chest. No…
“Sammy,” Dean said impatiently. “Move. I’m hungry. Let’s shower and go get Wild Willy’s.” He kissed Sam’s neck, and Sam could breathe again.
But he still didn’t move. “Shower together?” he said, voice low.
Dean was silent for a beat, and then he laughed. “I shoulda known you’d be the clingy type. Yeah, shower together.” He turned Sam’s face towards his and kissed him gently. Sam tried not to melt into it, and reluctantly disentangled himself from Dean and rolled over onto his back, watching Dean as he got up and went to turn on the water.
Sam found himself thinking about Mount Auburn Cemetery, and wondered if he could get Dean there for one more walk before they left Massachusetts. He could really see why Alison and Serena thought it was such a special place.
***
A/N: All the locations in this story are completely real. If you’re ever in the Boston area, I cannot recommend Mount Auburn Cemetery highly enough. (Ditto Wild Willy’s. I know it’s a ridiculous name, but the food is great.)
Part Two
***
Sam woke up alone in bed, instantly remembering the events of the night before. He sat bolt upright, heart pounding. The room was empty and silent. He felt like there was ice in his veins. Had Dean panicked, and run?
The motel room door opened, and Dean came in with a McDonald’s bag and a cup holder with two big cups of coffee. He looked slightly surprised to see Sam awake.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he said. “You were dead asleep. I thought the smell of coffee was the only thing that’d get you up.”
Sam relaxed slightly. Dean seemed strained; his eyes a bit too wide, his cheery morning conversation a little forced. But he hadn’t run, and he was at least trying to act normal. He sat down at the little table and handed Sam a cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” Sam said, accepting it and sipping it gratefully. Dean was wearing one of the pairs of jeans he’d bought at Target, with a fairly conservative scoop-neck tee. He adjusted his bra, making a face.
“These things suck,” he complained.
Sam laughed. “That’s the patriarchy for you,” he replied. His stomach rumbled, and he realized they’d slept through dinner the night before. Not surprising, between the sex and how little sleep they’d gotten after their adventure in the cemetery.
Dean threw him a breakfast sandwich and Sam tore into it. They ate in silence, and Sam wondered if he should say something. Should he let Dean bring it up? Were they never going to talk about what had happened? He knew it was more than likely a one-time thing. Dean was straight. He’d been curious what sex was like for women, that was all. Sam knew he should keep his mouth shut and count himself lucky that Dean wasn’t freaking out.
After he was finished eating, Sam started to get out of bed. Dean jumped up from the table. “Hey, I think it’s been awhile since I sharpened the knife,” he muttered. Sam stared at Dean’s back. He’d seen Dean sharpen the demon-killing knife two days ago, and knew it was a flimsy excuse not to accidentally see Sam naked again.
Sam sighed, careful to keep it inaudible, and pulled his boxer briefs on. “I’m gonna shower,” he said, and padded to the bathroom.
As the hot water poured over him, Sam shut his eyes against the tears that sprung up suddenly. It felt like he was washing the night with Dean away; something precious he’d never get back. He steeled himself and thought how at least he’d had it once, more than he’d ever thought he’d get. At least he had the memories. At least he still had Dean in his life.
When he came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and wishing he’d brought clothes into the bathroom with him, the room looked like a hurricane had hit it. Dean was nowhere to be seen. Sam looked around, frowning, and managed to locate some of his clean clothing. Just as he was buttoning his shirt, Dean came back into the room, face a dark cloud, banging the door shut behind him.
“Dean, what – ”
“I can’t find the knife,” Dean said. “I looked everywhere. I just checked the Impala, but it’s not there.” Sam’s eyes widened. It was one of their best weapons, and its loss would be a serious blow.
“Think,” he said. “When was the last time you had it?”
Dean was pacing. “I don’t know, man, I usually make sure one of us has it when we go out on a job, so – ” He stopped and looked at Sam. “The cemetery. I brought it, cause you never know when fucking demons are going to show up somewhere. Then I fell, and when I got whammied, none of my clothes fit – ”
Sam nodded. “It probably fell out of your pocket. Let’s go.”
***
It was another beautiful fall day, but Sam and Dean were in no mood to enjoy it. They parked near Consecration Dell and walked rapidly down the path.
“Fuck, I really don’t want to have to ask if there’s a lost and found,” Dean moaned. “‘Scuse me, has any groundskeeper run across an ancient knife with creepy sigils on it? Asking for a friend.’”
Sam snorted, then slowed his pace slightly, realizing Dean sounded a little out of breath. He kept forgetting about their increased height difference.
They split up when they got to the pond, and after a couple minutes, Dean, who was in the reeds at the edge of the pool and practically wading into the water, crowed triumphantly.
“Found it!” he said, relief evident in his voice. “How did it get in here?”
“In all the commotion, someone must have kicked it, or something,” Sam said. Dean wiped the blade off on his jacket sleeve.
They heard the voices of people coming down the path, and Dean stowed the knife quickly in his jacket pocket.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to find it,” a voice was saying. “Or maybe they have a lost and found, and somebody turned it in.”
A woman with a taller companion turned the corner, and Sam’s gun was in his hand in a second, pointed at them both. “Don’t move!” he shouted. “Dean, it’s her!”
“You sure?” Dean asked. “Or are you terrorizing some tourists right now?”
“I’m sure,” Sam said. He recognized her now, too, as the same woman they’d seen a couple days before, with the same tall woman she’d been with then. The witch was dressed in all black again, although she had less jewelry today. She and her companion had frozen, and they looked terrified. Strange behavior for a witch, but Sam was certain it was her.
“You’re going to undo what you did to my brother,” Sam said, jerking his head toward Dean.
“Your brother?” The witch looked at Dean, frowning, and then understanding dawned on her face. She pointed at Dean. “Alison! Your earring!” She looked back at Sam, and the gun, and gulped.
“Please don’t hurt us,” she said, her voice shaky with fear. “I can fix your brother. I’m so sorry. This was all a big mistake.”
Sam glanced at Dean, who nodded. He let his arms fall to his sides, but didn’t put the gun away.
“Come with us,” he said.
***
The witch – Serena was the name she gave them – started trying to explain as they hustled her and Alison to the car, but Dean gave her a look.
“Free advice, don’t talk black magic in public,” he said. She glared tearily at him.
“It’s not black magic,” she said defensively.
After they got into the car and closed the doors, she started talking immediately.
“I don’t do black magic,” she said. “Alison is – “ She glanced at her companion.
“It’s okay,” Alison said quietly. “I’m trans.”
“Oh,” Dean said, a little too loudly. Sam looked embarrassed.
“My insurance won’t cover surgery,” Alison continued. “Serena wanted to help me be who I really am.”
“The earring was the hardest part,” Serena said. “It took months to create the spell and affix it to the earring. And the ingredients were rare, and expensive. The other night was just to bind it to Alison. But you fell into the circle, and everything went to hell, and the earring ended up with you.”
“Why can’t I take it off?” Dean asked.
“For Alison’s protection. That was another layer of spells; I made it so only she could remove it, so it couldn’t fall out and no one could ever take it off her against her will.”
“That’s…actually really smart,” Sam said.
“Why the fuck were you doing the last spell in a cemetery?” Dean demanded.
Serena’s lip quivered. “We love Mount Auburn. I just wanted her to get to be reborn in a beautiful place.”
Alison smiled at Serena and took her hand, raising it to her lips and kissing Serena’s fingers softly.
Dean blinked, then recovered himself. “Very romantic,” he said. “Next time, maybe just do it in your apartment.” Sam elbowed him in the ribs and he rolled his eyes. “Okay, so, what do you need to undo me?”
“Nothing,” Serena said, sounding surprised. Alison reached out with her free hand and gently plucked the earring from Dean’s ear. Dean shuddered, that weird feeling coming over him again, and he shut his eyes. It didn’t last long, and when he opened them again, Sam was staring at him with an unreadable expression.
“Am I me?” Dean asked, but he could hear it in his voice. He looked down, and was a little sad to see his breasts gone. All his clothing was too tight now, including –
“Fucking bra,” he muttered, reaching around to his back and trying to get it off. Serena giggled, and he glared at her. She clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Can we go?” she asked, after a second.
“Hold on, hold on,” Dean muttered, popping open his fly.
“Dean, for god’s sake,” Sam protested. Alison and Serena looked carefully out the backseat car windows.
“I gotta make sure nothing’s missing!” Dean said. He pulled his panties away from his body – damn, he was kind of going to miss those – and checked. When he looked up again, Sam was staring straight ahead.
“Everything appears to be in order,” Dean said, zipping up his jeans again. “You ladies can go. Try not to do any more satanic rituals in cemeteries at midnight, okay? It looks sketchy as fuck.”
“It wasn’t satanic – ” Serena started to say indignantly, but Alison put a hand on her arm, grinning and shaking her head.
“Thanks for getting this back to us,” Alison said. “I can’t even tell you what it means to me.”
“I’m glad it worked out,” Sam said, smiling at her. Dean gave Sam a look, as Alison and Serena got out of the car and walked off down the path.
“What?” Sam said. “They’re cute.”
Dean made a face and started the car. “Whatever,” he said. “I need to get back to the motel room and change.”
***
They were silent on the way back to the motel, and in the room, as they started re-gathering their belongings after Dean had changed back into his old clothes. Sam almost said something about how Dean had wrecked the room, some stupid joke or complaint just to get the conversation going, but he didn’t have the spirit.
It was over, him and Dean – he knew that. Not as brothers, or hunting companions, but as lovers. Sam tried to convince himself that it might be easier now, having gotten it out of his system, maybe, or at least gotten to be with Dean once, but he knew better. Maybe it would be easier, down the line. But at the moment, it was much, much worse. Sam had to force himself to keep his eyes off Dean, remembering what it had felt like, desperate to know what it would be like now that Dean was himself again. How he would sound – how he would feel –
Dean sighed loudly. Sam looked over at him and saw that he was holding the denim dress, staring down at it with a wistful expression.
“You okay?” Sam said, voice coming out hoarser than he had intended. He cleared his throat and tried to put on a neutral, sympathetic face, but something must have shown in his eyes, because Dean looked at him for a beat too long before answering.
“Yeah, of course,” Dean said. He looked at the dress again, stroking it with one hand. Sam frowned.
“Dean, are you – ” Dean looked up at him with raised eyebrows. Sam cleared his throat again. “I just mean, if you were trans, or any kind of genderqueer, I wouldn’t judge you – “
Dean burst out laughing, a genuine laugh which made Sam smile a little, despite the weight in his chest. “Nah, Sammy, I never wanted to stay a chick. Just, it was fun, you know?” He glanced at the dress, and his smile faded. He sighed again and shoved the dress into his duffel bag. “I guess I wouldn’t have minded if I’d gotten to enjoy it for a little longer. Cause it was fun. Right?”
He finally looked up at Sam, something vulnerable and worried showing through the mask he always tried to wear, and Sam knew he was talking about last night. Sam nodded, quickly.
“Really fun,” he said, and gave Dean a small smile. Dean smiled back, looking relieved. Sam felt a little better; not much, but a little. At least it didn’t seem like Dean was going to have a total emotional breakdown about their sex.
“We’re paid through tomorrow; guess we might as well stay, huh?” Dean said. “Make sure we ganked the right ghost?”
Sam nodded. “Sounds good. Want to get some lunch? I guess you’ll want Wild Willy’s again, huh?”
Dean gave a half-shrug. “I’m not that hungry,” he said. Off Sam’s worried look, he rolled his eyes. “Relax, man. Maybe for dinner.”
“Okay,” Sam said, deciding not to push it. After they finished putting the room back in order, Dean turned on the TV and Sam opened his laptop, checking the local news for more deaths at the theater, or anything else that looked suspicious. There was nothing, and so he started checking the national news, hunting for a case they could head off to the next day.
After about half an hour, Dean got up from his bed and went to his duffel, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. Sam watched him with a bemused expression.
“Want some?” Dean asked, when he caught Sam’s look.
Sam considered responding with the bitchy It’s one p.m., Dean, that his brother was surely anticipating, but…why not?
“Sure,” he said, chin raised a little, in defiance of expectations.
Dean looked taken aback for a moment, then chuckled. “Atta boy,” he said. He got their cups from the bathroom and poured them each a generous amount.
They drank in silence, as Dean watched TV and Sam tried to keep looking for a case and not look at Dean, who was sprawled out in a lazy, comfortable way that made Sam ache. If he could just crawl onto the bed and straddle him and –
“What?” Dean said, feeling his eyes and catching him staring. Sam quickly turned away.
“Nothing,” he said.
“Didn’t look like nothing,” Dean said.
Sam shook his head and stared blindly at his laptop screen. The room felt suddenly too close, the air too warm, and he couldn’t get a breath; every time he tried, all he could smell was Dean, all he could think of was Dean’s skin under his hands, Dean’s face when he’d pushed inside him…
“Too bad I couldn’t’ve kept Alison’s earring for just one more night, huh?” Dean said suddenly. Sam looked at him again, but Dean was staring into his cup, one hand anxiously twisting around the bottom. Was Dean blushing? He must have drunk more than Sam had realized.
Sam tried to think of what to say, desperate to figure out if Dean was getting at what he hoped Dean was getting at. Was Sam just seeing what he wanted to be there? Did Dean just want to talk about something related to that specific scenario?
He took too long about it, because after a moment Dean gave a forced laugh. “I know, I’m totally fucked up for wanting another crazy night with my…” He seemed to choke on the word ‘brother,’ and took a long drink of whiskey.
“Dean, no,” Sam said quickly. Dean still wasn’t looking at him, and Sam knew he’d better talk fast. “I mean…it’d be fun if you still had it. I’d definitely be up for a second round with you like that, but…” He swallowed, praying he wasn’t about to make Dean bolt. “But I don’t care what you look like, or what equipment you’ve got. I’d do – that – or whatever, something like it – no matter what.”
Dean looked at him quickly, eyes wide. “Really?”
Sam nodded. “Anytime.”
Dean swallowed hard and looked back at his whiskey glass. “Do you think though…isn’t it, you know…totally fucked up?”
Sam shrugged, trying to fight down the hope blossoming in his heart, the ache that made him want so badly to touch Dean and tell him it was okay, that it was right for them. He forced calm into his voice. “Maybe. But so what? Our lives have always been fucked up. And I don’t care if this is, too.”
Dean was looking at him from the corner of his eyes. “So you’d…want to?”
Sam nodded again. “More than you know,” he said, and he hadn’t meant for the words to come out so husky, but Dean turned towards him, and put his cup down on the bedside table. He stopped then, hesitating, eyes still wide, and Sam put his own cup down and crawled onto the bed.
For a second they just lay on their sides, staring at each other, and then Sam reached out and touched Dean’s cheek, terrified to lose this momentum. Dean’s eyelids fluttered half-closed, then opened again quickly.
“Are you sure you wanna do it with me like this?” he said. “Like…” He gestured down at his body. “Regular me?”
“It’s all I’ve been able to think about,” Sam said. His eyes flicked down Dean’s body, without his volition. “For years.” His eyes met Dean’s again. Dean’s mouth was half-open, and Sam couldn’t resist leaning forward and pressing his lips to Dean’s in a warm kiss.
Dean sucked in a breath and kissed Sam back eagerly, tongue sliding into Sam’s mouth. Sam closed the gap between them, pressing his body to Dean’s, letting his hands roam over the planes of Dean’s shoulders and back. It was like a second first time, almost; Dean smelled almost the same, but his body was different, and even the noises he made were unexpected in his deeper voice.
And the length of his cock, hardening against Sam’s hip, was all new. Sam pulled away from Dean’s mouth to work with feverish fingers at Dean’s jeans, consumed with the desire to see the thing he’d fantasized about since he was a teenager. Dean was breathing hard and didn’t say a word as Sam opened his jeans. As Sam looked in, he paused.
Dean was still wearing panties; different from yesterday’s, but still black, still silky and lacy. Sam looked up into Dean’s face. Dean was bright pink.
“They were comfy,” he mumbled.
“They look awesome,” Sam said. He’d been planning to pull Dean’s underwear straight off, but instead he caressed Dean’s cock through his panties, enjoying the smooth fabric under his fingers, and the way Dean twitched and moaned at his touch. Sam kept it up, palming the bulge until Dean was rutting against his hand and there was a wet spot where the head pressed against the fabric.
Finally, almost reluctant, Sam pushed Dean’s jeans and panties down so Dean’s cock sprang free. He examined it for a long moment, one hand on Dean’s hip, thumb circling on his skin.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Dean snapped finally.
“Don’t tempt me,” Sam said, almost absently. He looked up to see Dean staring at him, mouth agape. Sam laughed and kissed Dean, then pushed him onto his back and slid down his body. He shoved Dean’s shirt up a little and mouthed at his stomach and hipbone for a minute, but he couldn’t make himself wait any longer and he sucked Dean’s cock down as far as he could. Dean groaned, his hips rising. Sam let himself explore, with lips and tongue and gentle teeth, listening to Dean’s hitched breaths and little pleasure sounds, taking his time and soaking this in.
When he was satisfied – for the moment – he pulled off, keeping his hand wrapped around Dean’s dick in a firm grip, but barely moving it. He kissed Dean soundly, then moved to his jaw and neck, enjoying the scratch of stubble, nipping at Dean’s earlobe.
“Want you to fuck me,” he breathed, into Dean’s ear, and Dean jerked violently, looking at him with eyes gone wide as saucers again, his body rigid.
“No way,” he said immediately. “What if I hurt you or something? You can do me.”
“It’s my turn,” Sam said. “I deserve to get plowed by a hot guy, too.”
Dean blinked rapidly at him. “But – “
Sam let his face go soft, his eyes big; Dean would do almost anything when Sam gave him that look. “Please, Dean?” He stroked Dean’s cock rapidly a few times before stilling his hand again, just for good measure.
Dean shut his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temple. “Fuck, Sam, god damn it,” he said helplessly, and Sam knew he’d won.
He started pulling Dean’s clothing off eagerly, and Dean was undressing him just as fast, except that they kept getting in each other’s way, or stopping to kiss and run their hands all over each other, so it took longer than it should have. Eventually, though, they were both naked. Sam tossed Dean the lube and flopped down on the bed on his stomach. Something occurred to him and he looked back at Dean with a frown.
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yeah, shut up, it’s not my first time,” Dean grumbled. Sam wondered what else he didn’t know about his brother.
Maybe, now, he’d be able to find out.
Dean’s preparation of him was slow, and so, so careful. Sam knew nothing in the world would make Dean go faster than he thought was necessary, so Sam just relaxed and enjoyed it, spreading his legs wide and letting Dean open him up. The knowledge of even just Dean’s fingers inside him was enough to keep him hard, and whenever Dean hit his prostate, Sam moaned and pushed into the bed.
Sam was practically begging by the time Dean judged it was enough. Dean leaned over him and kissed his shoulder. Sam arched up into him, loving the warmth of Dean at his back. Then Dean withdrew again, and there was a long pause.
So long, eventually, that Sam became concerned. He looked back to see Dean staring at his body with a terrified expression.
“I can’t do it,” he said bleakly. “I want to – fuck, I want to, but – what if I hurt you, Sammy?”
His eyes met Sam’s, and Sam felt a rush of pity at the fear there. He sat up and kissed Dean hard.
“It’s okay,” Sam said. “I got it. Lie down. On your back, okay?”
Dean let out a slow, shuddering breath and obeyed. Sam straddled his hips and reached behind himself to stroke Dean’s flagging erection back to full hardness.
“I’m gonna ride you, all right?” Sam said. “That way I’ll know right away if anything’s wrong and I can stop. Okay?” God, he hoped it would be enough. He was going crazy after all that preparation, and he wanted Dean inside him more than he’d wanted almost anything in his whole life.
He breathed an internal sigh of relief at Dean’s eager nod. And his dick in Sam’s hand was hard again, so Sam slicked it with lube and then positioned himself carefully.
After all Dean’s work on him, the head breaching him barely hurt at all. Sam sank down slowly onto his brother’s cock, gasping at how good it felt to be filled up like this. And it was Dean.
“Ohfuckohfuck Sammy,” Dean was babbling, hands squeezing Sam’s thighs. “Oh god, you okay? All right?”
“So fucking good,” Sam managed to get. “Dean, you don’t even know…”
Dean gave a strangled laugh. “Well…I kinda do.”
Sam chuckled and kissed him quickly, then sat back up, letting his hips rise and fall, adjusting his position until Dean’s cock was hitting his prostate on almost every stroke. He went slowly at first, trying to draw this out, but then Dean wrapped a hand around his cock and started jerking him, and suddenly Sam was bouncing on Dean’s dick without even meaning to, biting his lip so he wouldn’t cry out too loudly.
“Sammy…” Dean was saying, in this amazed voice that made Sam feel crazy with need, and as he felt his orgasm approaching he drove himself back onto Dean’s cock and came with a groan over Dean’s hand.
And Dean’s chest, Sam realized when he looked down. Dean had let go of Sam’s cock when he was done and grabbed his hips, and Sam kept still as Dean thrust up into him. Dean’s back and neck arched as he came, crying out a wordless sound. Sam could feel Dean pulsing inside him and thought dizzily that this was the best his life had ever been.
Dean pulled him down and kissed him hard, and Sam lay on Dean’s chest, face pressed into Dean’s neck, trusting that enough of his weight was still on his legs that he wasn’t crushing his brother. Dean’s fingers were in his hair, and Sam stroked Dean’s shoulder with his thumb.
After a moment, Dean shifted, and it occurred to Sam suddenly to be worried again about this, and about if Dean could handle it, because if he couldn’t, Sam wasn’t sure he could go back to pretending that there was nothing between them. To being with Dean all the time and never touch him like this, never get to do all the other firsts they still had left to do…
“Dude, get off me,” Dean said, and Sam froze, heart hammering in his chest. No…
“Sammy,” Dean said impatiently. “Move. I’m hungry. Let’s shower and go get Wild Willy’s.” He kissed Sam’s neck, and Sam could breathe again.
But he still didn’t move. “Shower together?” he said, voice low.
Dean was silent for a beat, and then he laughed. “I shoulda known you’d be the clingy type. Yeah, shower together.” He turned Sam’s face towards his and kissed him gently. Sam tried not to melt into it, and reluctantly disentangled himself from Dean and rolled over onto his back, watching Dean as he got up and went to turn on the water.
Sam found himself thinking about Mount Auburn Cemetery, and wondered if he could get Dean there for one more walk before they left Massachusetts. He could really see why Alison and Serena thought it was such a special place.
***
A/N: All the locations in this story are completely real. If you’re ever in the Boston area, I cannot recommend Mount Auburn Cemetery highly enough. (Ditto Wild Willy’s. I know it’s a ridiculous name, but the food is great.)
