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Dean has been worked up this whole hunt, snapping at Sam, conversations with witnesses bordering on rudeness. Something has him worked up, but until now, Sam hasn’t had time to deal with it. People were dying in what looked like werewolf attacks, and they were on a time-crunch with the full-moon approaching to find the thing before the next body dropped.
Now, with the werewolf dealt with, Sam can consider what Dean needs. As much as he loves taking care of Dean when he’s like this, he hates that something always has to happen to get them to this point to begin with. Dean will never just ask for Sam’s help, never admit his needs until he’s pushed over the edge.
But Sam knows his brother, loves him, and despite the difficult journey to get here every time, Sam relishes the chance to give him what he needs. Dean should be back at the motel right now, Sam having told him to go back a while ago - Sam would take care of the paperwork at the police station. So once Sam finishes up, he starts making his way back, analyzing what might best help Dean out of his funk this time.
Sometimes all it takes it a hard fuck, rough hands and mouths until all the anger and agitation explodes out of him. Other times, Dean needs it coaxed out of him gently with soothing touches and tender words. Sam doesn’t think either of those will cut it this time. Sometimes Dean needs to know someone else is in charge, that Sam will give him what he needs, push him to uncomfortable spaces and still know Sam’s got him. This feels more like one of those times.
But what to do….Sam has used cock-warming as a solution before. Dean soaked up the attention that time, Sam’s fingers running through his hair, letting Sam fill his mouth for over an hour before he so much as grunted. Sam had fucked his throat after that and made Dean rut against the mattress to get himself off. His brother had come so hard, he’d blacked out. Sam had a feeling he could only use that rarely or the appeal would wear off.
He considered some other options. Tying Dean up could work, but he’s not sure Dean has the patience tonight. Not that Sam would let Dean’s rude mouth stop him, but he’s not sure that would be best for either of them right now. He thinks about having Dean finger himself open and put on a show, but since he’s still not sure what set Dean off, he’s worried that putting himself on display right now may work against him.
Sam curses under his breath. A random thought he’d had earlier in the day flashes through his mind. Dean had been acting horribly, his attitude with Sam verging on bratty, and Sam had the strong urge in that moment to bend Dean over his knee. Sam swallows thickly. That could work.
The rest of the walk home, Sam thinks through how he will handle this. It’s not something they’ve done before, but some part of him thinks Dean will settle into it beautifully, even if he fights it at first. Sam runs a hand through his hair.
When he gets to the room, he enters slowly, wanting to gage Dean’s attitude early. His brother is sprawled on the bed, one arm tucked up behind his head, legs crossed at the ankle. He’s watching something on T.V. and doesn’t even bother to look at Sam. Sam moistens his lips and steps into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He loosens his tie and watches Dean from where he stands by the door.
“Just gonna stand there?” Dean asks with pure venom in his voice. And even still, his eyes never move from the screen.
Sam swallows back the retort that forms on his tongue. That won’t be helpful right now. Instead, he steps forward and presses the power button on the T.V., facing Dean as his brother turns a glare on him.
“I was watching that,” he snaps.
Sam nods slowly, meeting Dean’s eyes calmly. “Now you’re not. Get undressed.”
Dean’s brows furrow in outrage, mouth curling around what Sam can tell will be more attitude and nastiness. “Stop while you’re already behind and do what I said, Dean.” Dean snarls. “Now.” His voice is hard, unwavering. “If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.”
With a growl, Dean rolls off the bed and starts shucking his clothes, muttering angrily under his breath. Sam would never do something Dean was totally against, but he knows his brother needs this. If he really had a problem, he would use the safe word they had set up when things like this started to happen between them. Sam will ask for Dean to identify it in a moment.
As Dean undresses, Sam allows himself a moment to admire his brother’s physique. Dean is both muscle and soft edges, the most tantalizing mixture of the two that drives Sam crazy. Chorded muscle in his arms and legs ripple as he moves, making Sam’s mouth water at the pure display of strength, and at the same time, Sam craves the feel of Dean’s slightly softer belly under his hands, the give of skin under Sam’s fingertips when he grips his hips. Dean’s nipples are perking up in the slight chill of the room, and Sam has to stop himself from crossing the small space and just taking them into his mouth.
When Dean is undressed down to his boxers, he turns an expectant look on Sam that’s full of challenge. Sam steps closer, right into Dean’s space so it forces Dean’s head up to continue meeting his eyes. Without breaking eye contact, Sam pinches one of Dean’s nipples and twists, just enough to make Dean gasp. “You’ve been an absolute nightmare all day,” he says.
Dean’s eyes lower, jaw clenching. Sam releases and then pinches the same nipple again. Dean flinches and lifts into it, trying to relieve the pressure. Sam just adjusts his hold. He uses his free hand to lift Dean’s face back to his and waits until Dean meets his eyes. “Safe word,” he demands.
Dean just stares back. “Safe word,” Sam repeats, the squeeze of his fingers unrelenting. Dean finally gasps, murmuring Poughkeepsie under his breath.
“Thank you,” Sam answers, loosening his hold on Dean’s nipple. His brother sucks in a sharp breath and Sam does his best to simply smile back, knowing the sharp tingle of blood rushing back in must hurt.
His brother’s pride stops him from rubbing the affected area, but not from curling his lip at Sam. “Fucking asshole,” he growls.
“Hmmm,” Sam hums, simply watching Dean’s face. His brother’s body is just about vibrating with energy he can’t control. Sam is here to fix it. He takes one quick moment to yank the comforter and sheet down to the edge of the mattress and then turns back to Dean. “On the bed,” he orders, voice even.
Dean doesn’t move for a few seconds as if resisting the directive gives him some kind of power. But just as Sam knew he would, Dean climbs up onto the bed after holding out for a few seconds. “Good boy,” Sam says, trying not to croon. He’s pleased that Dean has listened, but be too condescending for Dean’s tastes and he’ll end up on the receiving end of a punch rather than an obedient brother.
“You may kneel or lay flat on your stomach.” Sam waits and after a moment, Dean eases onto his stomach, tugging a pillow under his head and curling his arms underneath it. Sam allows him the comfort and runs a soothing hand down his back.
He runs this hand up Dean’s neck into his hair, scraping gently at his scalp and easing his touch back down. Dean sighs and tilts his head into the touch. “Feels good, huh?” Sam asks, moving his hands lower, massaging lightly at Dean’s lower back and then down the backs of his thighs. His brother twitches, a little sensitive, but Sam can tell he’s trying to relax, to be good for Sam.
When he thinks Dean is settled enough, he curls his finger under the waistband of his boxers and tugs, easing the fabric down over his ass and then having Dean lift up enough so Sam can maneuver the material over his cock and down his thighs without causing any discomfort. “That’s it, Dean.” His brother drops back onto the bed and wriggles to re-situate himself in the pillow.
With Dean settled again, Sam rests his hand on Dean’s thigh, teasing very lightly at his inseam. Dean’s breath catches. “Spread for me,” Sam says. And this time, Dean listens without hesitation. Already, his mindset is settling.
Dean parts his thighs and Sam rids himself of his shoes and pants, climbing up onto the bed to kneel in the open space. He runs both hands up Dean’s back, soothing over tense muscles, tracing old scars, and trails down until he can cup Dean’s ass, squeezing the firm skin and enjoying how it fills his hands. He leans up over Dean’s back and glides his hands to Dean’s hips, loving the give of the skin there, the way it molds to his fingers. “Okay gorgeous,” Sam says, “spread a little wider.”
Dean does, the movement this time exposing a glimpse of his hole. Sam trails his hands over more of Dean’s skin and bends down to kiss the small of his back. Then Sam reaches for the other pillow on the bed and tugs at Dean’s hip to indicate he should lift up. Dean does, and Sam slides the pillow underneath, folding it so his hips are suitably elevated.
“Sam,” Dean grunts, a question in his voice.
“Trust me to take care of you?” Sam asks. He doesn’t expect an answer and he doesn’t get one. Instead, Dean unclenches a little bit, allowing Sam to direct him. Sam knows the attitude hasn’t fully slipped away, but it’s already starting to. The better Sam gives Dean what he needs right now, the longer the attitude will stay away.
“We’re going to do something a little different this time. You’ve been unbearable this entire hunt - rude and short-tempered, and clearly, you need a reminder about what’s appropriate and who’s in charge.” Dean doesn’t respond, but Sam can tell he’s listening when his shoulders tense.
“So we’re going to do this, and by the end of it your attitude is going to be adjusted, understood?”
Dean nods into the pillow. “Good.” Sam squeezes Dean’s hip. Then, without warning, Sam pulls his hand back and releases it onto Dean’s ass. The stinging slap echoes into the room. Dean goes rigid underneath him.
When their safe word isn’t forthcoming, Sam lets fly with another smack. Then another. And another. He rains the hits down onto Dean’s backside, alternating from one cheek to the other and down onto his thighs to vary the sensation. The skin is steadily turning a shade of pink and Sam wants very much to bite into the mound of skin. But he’s not done yet. Dean’s shoulders are still tense and there’s clearly a lot more work to do.
For a moment, Sam pauses the assault of slaps to run soft hands up Dean’s back. He leans over Dean so he can whisper in his ear. “Let it go, Dean. Whatever’s eating you up, just let it go.”
And then Sam backs into his position between Dean’s thighs and smacks the tender skin of his ass again. Dean chokes on a whine, the first sound he’s made since this started. Sam keeps going, firm slap after firm slap until Dean trembles beneath him. The skin is turning a deeper, flattering shade of red and is beginning to radiate a steady heat. Dean has remained pretty rigid through most of it, a muffled groan or whine all that he allowed himself after that first sound.
Sam wants a bigger reaction, wants Dean to fully release whatever is bothering him so deeply. He cups Dean’s ass cheeks in his hands and pulls them apart, blowing softly to tickle cool air over Dean’s taint. His brother shudders and clenches. Sam goes for Dean’s thighs next and nudges them further apart. “Keep them there,” he orders softly, and Dean does, ass perched high on the pillow, now spread wide for Sam’s gaze. Sam is almost one-hundred percent sure Dean’s face is as red as his ass. He wishes he could see it right then.
But for the moment, he keeps Dean where he is and admires the spread of his cheeks, tight furl of pink muscle nestled between. He smacks down onto Dean’s cheeks a few more times, then shifts lower to where cheek meets thigh. This area will be particularly sensitive later and a good reminder of why this happened. Sam covers every square inch of Dean’s ass and the top few inches of his thighs. As Dean clenches, fighting a reaction to the stinging pain, Sam can’t help watching his hole, the tender area winking at him down below.
It occurs to him how sensitive Dean would be there, how unexpected it would be, and how totally and completely it might send Dean spiraling out of his current headspace. Sam licks over his lips, considering. He decides to try it.
So adjusting his position slightly to get a better angle, Sam raises his hand and brings it crashing down dead-center between Dean’s reddened cheeks. Dean’s whole body jerks, a shout escaping his throat. “Sam,” he grunts, a warning. But Dean should know the only thing that will change what Sam’s doing is the use of his safe word. And if he doesn’t, Sam knows Dean might be nervous, but it’s not stop-worthy.
Sam pauses, allowing Dean time to process and use the word if he feels necessary. When he doesn’t, Sam resumes. His hand rises and again, slaps down between Dean’s cheeks. The tips of his fingers slap over the tender skin before lifting and repeating the motion. Dean flinches and grunts with each hit, but after the first time, he doesn’t say a word. In fact, Sam is pretty sure he’s tipped his hips into it. Sam keeps going, quick, sharp smacks raining down in the same spot over and over, and fucking over again. Dean’s hole spasms and flexes under Sam’s touch, flaring as if to invite him in. And if Sam looks closely enough, he can see Dean’s swollen balls bulging out from where they’re tucked up under him, appearing slightly as Dean’s hips rock forward into the pillow with each hit.
But getting Dean off isn't the focus right now. Maybe later, but right now it’s time for a mental reset. Sam slaps again, wringing another deep cry from Dean’s lips. His brother’s hips hump into the pillow and as he watches Dean’s reaction, it registers just how hard Sam himself is, his cock tenting his boxers obscenely. He wants so badly to push his hips against Dean’s ass, rut until he paints the reddened cheeks with his come, but that will have to wait too.
The sight of Dean’s body so strung out, so needy, is intoxicating. His hole is turning a deep shade of red, the skin puffy and more swollen with every strike. Dean lets out a high-pitched whine on the next smack, pushing his hips back into Sam’s fingers. Sam takes a moment to press his fingers against the heated skin and then winds back and lets go with a volley of hard slaps once more.
Dean keens and locks up, body going suddenly lax under Sam’s hands. Sam continues with a few lighter smacks and then gently cups Dean’s ass with both hands. Dean doesn’t move. So Sam leans up over his back and kisses his shoulder. “Dean,” he whispers. “Dean, sweetheart.”
Dean hums, a softer sound this time, and Sam knows he’s been successful. Whatever was winding Dean up inside had worked its way out. Using his thumb, Sam rubs over Dean’s hole. His brother chokes on his breath, squirming now. “God, look at you,” Sam murmurs, admiring Dean’s puffy rim.
“Sam,” Dean whispers. His hips rock down into the pillow.
“You want to come?”
“Sammy,” Dean cries, a clear admission. Sam smirks. He presses the pad of his thumb against Dean’s hole and rubs. A strangled cry echoes in the room and Sam knows Dean is overwhelmed, verging on too sensitive. But he also knows Dean won’t want him to stop, so he does it again, circling his thumb over the swollen skin until Dean sobs. His brother is frozen in place, caught between pushing into the touch and pulling away.
Sam’s cock throbs against the cotton of his boxers and he’s reminded again of how badly he wants to fuck into Dean, split him open, slide in deep, and just take. He stifles a groan of his own and spits onto two fingers. Then, without any other warning, he pushes them into Dean’s hole until they’re all the way in, giving them a twist and dragging his thumb over the puffy skin of Dean’s rim. Dean chokes and thrashes under him.
“Fuck, baby. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Dean manages only a strangled sound, but Sam knows the answer is yes. As Dean rocks his hips in little desperate thrusts against the pillow beneath him, Sam starts a quick pace of fucking his fingers into Dean, dragging them out and gliding back in before Dean can miss them. He continues teasing the swollen skin and can’t help bending to lick at it around where his fingers plunge inside. A high keening moan escapes into the room and is quickly muffled by the pillow under Dean’s head.
Sam smirks. Then he does it again, tongue flicking and swirling over tender skin until Dean trembles. He loves driving Dean crazy. With his tongue tracing patterns on Dean’s rim, he curls his fingers deep inside until they reach Dean’s prostate, pressing in soft little motions that make Dean twitch and jerk against the bed. Dean’s fingers are twisted into the sheets and Sam proudly notes how his knuckles turn whiter every time Sam adjusts his fingers.
Without letting up, Sam circles the two fingers again, knowing he’s pushing Dean past their usual stopping point, and rests a reassuring hand on his brother’s back. “So good for me,” he whispers. As he keeps rubbing, he feels the gland pulse under his fingers, hears Dean suck in a harsh breath, and then seemingly without Dean’s full control, his brother’s body spasms, jerking into Sam’s hand and away all at once, a guttural, almost pained groaning cry rattling from Dean’s chest.
Sam’s cock jerks, a burst of pre-come dampening his boxers. He curls his fingers again and Dean’s knees draw up and out on the mattress, ass twisting up and away from Sam. But Sam doesn’t relent. He follows Dean’s hips, managing to keep his fingers deep inside. And just to make his point about who’s in charge, Sam flexes his fingers once more.
“Fuuuuck,” Dean howls, hips rutting uncontrollably this time. Sam watches raptly as Dean’s body moves, his beautiful body undulating in pure pleasure. A distant part of Sam’s brain registers the pleasure may be so pure, it’s verging on pain.
And then he pulls his fingers free and Dean howls again, this time in disappointment and outrage. “No! Sammy. Sammy, please. Fuck! Give’em back. Give’em back. Need to come. Please, please, please,” Dean chants, mindlessly pleading as he ruts into the pillow.
Sam runs a soothing hand down his back and grabs hold of Dean’s hips, forcing him to stop. Drawing Dean’s legs back out, Sam settles him back into position, easing his thighs outwards once again. “Sam,” Dean pleads softly.
“I know,” Sam answers gently. “I know, baby. I’ll take care of you. You know I always do.” Dean sniffs and rocks his hips down. Sam sweeps his hands up Dean’s back and down again, pressing his fingertips into the red skin of his ass, and watching the white impressions fade. He does it one more time, then pulls Dean’s cheeks apart. Using one hand to keep them open, Sam drags his middle finger down Dean’s crack, teasing at his hole and then down to his balls.
Dean lets out a small gasp, but does his best to stay put. Sam hums and tells him what a good boy he is. Then, unable to resist, Sam uses the flat of two fingers to smack down over Dean’s tender hole once more. His brother grunts, hole flexing, but then angles his hips back. “You love this, don’t you?” Sam whispers. “God, you’re amazing.” Then he does it again. He doesn’t use a ton of force, just enough to leave a stinging slap, and Dean eats it up.
He’s having a much larger reaction than Sam ever imagined and Sam is loving it too. The sight of his reddened skin, the desperate tone to his whines and groans, the pleas and rutting hips. It makes Sam feel powerful in all the best ways.
His next slap wrings a high-pitched whine from Dean’s throat and Sam makes himself stop. The slightly puffy hole from before, now fingered and firmly spanked, is visibly more swollen, dark red and flexing with need. Sam uses his thumb to press against the skin, swallowing thickly when the puffed up rim molds around it, hugging, almost sucking him closer.
Sam curses, then dips the tip of his finger inside. Dean presses back, desperate for more. “Please, Sam,” he says weakly.
“I gotcha, sweetheart. I’m gonna give you my cock, make you nice and full.” A low keen vibrates Dean’s frame and Sam strokes down his back, letting his touch help Dean settle.
When his brother is quiet, Sam reaches for the nightstand where a discarded bottle of lube lays on its side. He squirts a generous amount onto two fingers, smearing it around to warm, before angling them right at Dean’s hole and pressing inside. Dean shudders, thighs flexing. “Holy fuck,” Sam hears Dean mutter.
Holy fuck is right. Sam can’t wait to be inside him. He slicks Dean’s passage with more lube, twisting to make sure there’s enough and then Sam’s pulling back, bracing himself on Dean’s hips, and positioning his cock at Dean’s hole.
He teases first, dragging his come-smeared head against Dean’s puffed rim. Dean curses and digs his knees into the mattress, tipping his hips back in an effort to make Sam push inside. “Please, Sam, fuck.”
Holding firmly to Dean’s hips, Sam tugs gently and moves forward at the same time. There’s no resistance, and in seconds, Sam is balls deep in Dean’s ass. It’s snug and slick and scorching all at once, completely intoxicating.
Then Sam is moving, big surges of hips like waves on the ocean, powerful rolling movements that threaten to overturn them both into the sea of orgasmic bliss. Dean shouts and pushes back against him, hand coming up behind him to clutch at Sam’s thigh. He holds Sam to him, gasping as thick cock carves him out. Sam tightens his muscles, holds himself back from coming, and drops one hand to Dean’s cock to wrap around the base. He doesn’t want Dean to fall over the edge yet either.
Dean whines at being restricted, but never once protests. Instead he sags into Sam’s hold, allows Sam to control every movement. As Sam drives his hips forward, he stares down at where they’re connected, watches his cock spear Dean open and further abuse swollen flesh.
Fingers dig into Sam’s thigh and he knows they’re both nearing the edge. He releases Dean’s cock and pushes his hand up under his brother’s chest, pulling Dean up onto his knees and back against Sam’s chest.
Dean is unsteady at first, but allows Sam to guide his movements, leaning heavily against him. His head lolls onto Sam’s shoulder and Sam takes his weight easily. He presses Dean firmly back against him, angling Dean’s hips back further. His own hips draw back and plunge inside, now reaching a deeper angle, and Dean cries out, nails gouging marks into Sam’s skin.
Sam’s hips roll fluidly, pounding into Dean until there’s nothing left for them both but free fall. “Come for me, baby,” he growls, slamming his hips against Dean’s ass, balls slapping rhythmically on every stroke.
Dean grunts with the impact, clenching hard around Sam’s cock. Sam’s eyes flutter under the pressure, and unable to fully retreat, he just grinds in harder, circling in a way he knows is rubbing right on Dean’s prostate. And then Dean shudders and twitches, body convulsing as orgasm sweeps over him.
As pleasure overwhelms him, Dean’s head tips back into Sam’s shoulder, his back arching. He shakes, hips rocking in tiny uncontrollable movements, mouth dropped open in ecstasy. His cock throbs and spills rivulets of come up his belly, dripping down to coat his balls and the pillow below. Sam holds him through it, so fucking turned on by the sight of him, and then as Dean’s muscles relax, Sam allows himself to follow.
He keeps Dean tight against him and pumps his hips forward, grinding deep, letting the tight pressure and impact on his balls do the rest of the work. Dean clenches, whimpering now with overstimulation, and that’s it. Sam pounds up into the renewed clench of muscle and loses it, come pouring out and filling Dean up. He fucks his way through every last roll of pleasure, relishing the slick squelch of his cock gliding through his own come and excess lube.
When he can, Sam loosens his hold on Dean and runs his hand through the sticky mess on his brother’s stomach. He nuzzles into Dean’s throat. “Fuck, you’re so good for me,” he murmurs, trailing his fingers down Dean’s length. His brother twitches and groans.
Sam scoops up a glob of come and raises his hand to Dean’s mouth. “Suck,” he whispers.
Dean’s eyes flutter as his tongue darts out, obediently lapping his own spend off Sam’s fingers. Sam kisses his throat. “So good,” he repeats.
Then, dropping his hands to Dean’s waist, Sam says, “I’m gonna pull out now.”
“Mmm,” Dean hums. Sam grins, kissing the back of Dean’s shoulder, and dips his hips lower, pulling out of Dean. His brother groans. In seconds, come and lube start dripping out, slowly streaming down his thighs and Sam wants to see. So he urges Dean back down onto the bed and parts Dean’s cheeks. His brother’s hole looks raw - loose, red, and so puffy it’s almost unrecognizable as an asshole. Sam uses his thumb to brush over the skin. Dean jerks and moans.
Sam bends and breathes cool air over the sensitive area. Then, before Dean can protest, he slots his tongue over the overly-tender skin and laps. Dean keens and trembles, hands fluttering, struggling to find purchase. Sam doesn’t actually want to torture his brother, so he laps over it one more time, sucks at the flesh once, and then pulls away, kissing up his back until he reaches his shoulders.
Sam maneuvers Dean so he can remove the pillow from under his hips, and then moves to settle onto the bed next to him. Dean’s head is already turned toward him and Sam reaches up to brush sweat-dampened hair off his forehead. “How’re you feeling?”
Dean swallows thickly and wets his lips. “Kinda weird,” he whispers, voice like gravel.
“Are you in pain?”
“Not really?” he says like a question.
“Dean.” Sam’s voice is stern. He needs to know, needs to be able to take care of his brother. “Did I push you too hard?”
“I-no.” Dean answers.
“No? It wasn’t too much?” Sam clarifies.
Dean closes his eyes, then fights to open them again. “Tired, Sam.”
Sam sighs. “I know, baby. You can rest in a minute. Be honest with me. Did I hurt you?”
Dean squirms for a moment. “Kinda…but like, a good hurt.” His eyes close, then flash open. “You spanked me!” His voice is a strange combination of tired rasp and outrage.
Sam stifles a chuckle. “Yeah, I did. And you deserved it, didn’t you?”
Dean pouts, tiredness making him softer around the edges. “Maybe,” he admits.
“Do you feel better?”
Dean considers for a moment. “Yeah….my ass hurts though.”
“I bet,” Sam acknowledges, stroking through Dean’s hair again. “I did a lot more than just spank it. M’sorry if I pushed too hard.”
Dean nuzzles into Sam’s hand. “Think I liked it.”
Sam chuckles again. Sleepy Dean is often an honest Dean and Sam loves him all the more for it. “I’m glad. Don’t go to sleep yet. I’m going to grab you a drink and a small snack.”
“Don’t wanna eat,” Dean mutters, eyes heavy.
“Still need to. It’s good for you after being put through something like this.”
“Make it sound like torture.”
“That wasn’t my intention - you know that right?”
Dean forces his eyes open. “I woulda safe-worded if it was really that bad, Sam. I trust you, and I liked it…being pushed past my usual limits.”
“Good,” Sam whispers. He’s relieved Dean liked what happened tonight. He knows his brother pretty well, but he’d pushed them pretty far tonight. It’s nice to know his gut had steered him correctly. He climbs out of bed and goes to his duffle. He’s taken to carrying around small bottles of juice and granola bars. He’d done enough research after they’d begun straying into dom/sub territory to know it’s a good idea. The drink might not be chilled, but it’ll do what it’s supposed to. He goes back to the bed and props himself against the headboard. “C’mere, Dean,” he says, urging Dean up to lean against him.
Dean fumbles his way to sitting and flinches, leaning heavily into Sam. He takes the bottle when prompted and sips lightly, screwing his face up at the overly-sweet taste. When Sam hands him a broken off bite of the chocolate-chip granola bar, he takes it and pops it into his mouth, chewing slowly.
After a few minutes, Sam sets the juice and snack aside. “Feel okay?”
Dean meets his eyes and nods. “‘M good, Sammy. Promise.” Sam nods. When Dean goes to slide back down into the bed, he freezes and curses, regular loud-mouth personality returning. “Holy fuck, Sam. I promise, I’m good with what happened, but fuck. I don’t think I’m gonna sit properly for a week.”
Sam chuckles, then laughs outright. “C’mere,” he says, tugging Dean down sideways. “Sorry about your ass.”
“No you’re not,” Dean shoots back, but wriggles closer anyway and drops down against Sam’s chest.
“I’m really not,” Sam agrees, nudging Dean’s chin up so he can seal their mouths together.