apocalypsos | Fic: About To Get Too Far Gone (Supernatural)

Title: About To Get Too Far Gone
Author: Troll Princess
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,042 words
Spoilers: Before DMB
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: Incest, sexual references, bad language
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like playing with them.
Summary: Logically, the only person on the planet Sam should be fucking is Dean.

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About To Get Too Far Gone

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Logically, the only person on the planet Sam should be fucking is Dean.

No, really. Sam's got this whole thing figured out, which is the kind of thing you do when you're spending long hours in the Impala trying to tune out the third go-around of Sabbath Bloody Sabbath in as many hours. Dean's in the driver's seat extolling the considerable virtues of the girl he picked up in that last town, some farmgirl named Martha Jean who didn't look remotely like her name might imply and possibly had the word "Hoover" tattooed somewhere on her body he hadn't gotten a chance to find.

Sam's listening from the passenger's seat mumbling, "Oh, really?" and, "You're kidding," when he has to, pretending to look through Dad's journal and hating Ozzy Osbourne a lot, and all he can think is, No, really, why aren't we fucking?

See, here's the way it works.

Whomever Sam decides to fuck, it can't be a one-time thing.

This is non-negotiable.

It's different with Dean, who can fuck anything that stands still long enough if it turns him on, and there are few things on the planet that don't fall into that category. Sam's seen Dean's sex life progress before his eyes from the awkward fumblings of his teenage years to the quick and easy charms so foolproof that he could romance the panties off a Victoria's Secret catalog.

But Sam's monogomous. Hell, Sam's good at monogomous, no matter what some sexy apparitions might think.

Of course, that doesn't mean that Sam should be fucking Dean, just that he should stick to fucking one person.

That particular problem is where his second line of reasoning falls into play.

He only knows one person.

Okay, so that's not entirely true.

Sam knows Missouri and and Rebecca and dozens of other people they've saved whose phone numbers he carries in his cell phone just in case of an emergency, for all of whom the definition of "emergency" does not include "a quick hot fuck against the wall of a motel room." No, really, no matter how hard up he is.

Sam knows Sarah, but she's in New York and he's ... well, not.

Sam knows Dad, but even with his current ability to spin "completely and totally wrong" into "well, it's not that bad of an idea" in his head, he's not a goddamn miracle worker.

No, Sam knows one person at all times, so if he spends most of his time in motel showers jerking off with fingers he pretends are Dean's, it makes way more sense than it should.

Dean knows every annoying flaw that Sam posseses and still puts up with his shit anyway.

Common sense tells Sam that Dean only puts up with him because they're family and they love each other.

Memory tells him that even Jess needed to get the hell out of the room before she had a fit when Sam reached that level of grumpy that nearly made Dad look like a happy clown.

Look, Sam's not stupid. He knows he's the serious one and that being the baby might have made him a little bit selfish and he's pretty sure he'll never find anyone else who'll wake up to screaming in the middle of the night without punching him in the face. Okay, so maybe there won't be punching and it's not like he hasn't seen the way Dean clenches his fists sometimes after the nightmares, but come on.

Granted, that's not the best reason for fucking someone, but it's not bad, either.

Dean is hot.

Well, he is.

Honestly, that's not even an argument.

Sam wants it.

Yeah, yeah. Sam doesn't get it, either.

All right, he does get it. When Dean looks over at you from the driver's seat of the Impala and flashes you that teasing cocky grin of his, you'd be amazed how hard it can hit you even if it's coming from your own brother. Seriously, you know that saying about panties spontaneously combusting? It turns out boxers can do the exact same thing.

And he does, too, wants it so bad anymore he can taste it. Can taste that spot on Dean's neck that drives girls out of their goddamn minds as they nibble hungrily at the skin, can taste the hint of sweat growing on Dean's body as Sam fucks him.

So maybe Sam's been thinking about it.

A lot.

The point of the matter is, getting hot thinking about stroking Dean's cock and doing things to him that'll make his eyes cross doesn't make Sam a weirdo, it just means he's awake. And even that's debatable.

Dean wants it, too.

Oh, when doesn't Dean want it?

And maybe the "it" in that sentence is more "sex" and less "sex with Sam," but these days, Sam's just not sure anymore. There's something about the way Dean's hands grab onto him when he wakes up from a nightmare, the not-all-that-subtle looks Dean shoots him when Sam comes out of the bathroom in a towel and nothing else.

Uh, by the way, that towel thing? Sam's definitely not doing that on purpose.

Okay, fine, maybe a little.

When they do get around to fucking, it's the best high there is.

At least for a while, at least until the world starts to crumble around them and Dad comes back into the fray to help them kill the demon they've been hunting all their lives.

Until then, the taste and feel and scent of Dean gone wild holds Sam in thrall, and nothing makes more sense than that.