#no wincest | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jinkieswouldyoulookatthis · 2 years ago

Text

Rolling

Just a hunt fic with lots of weirdly close brother moments.

Words: 4395

Relationship: Just the brothers being weirdly close, no wincest, no smut, but this definitely qualifies as weirdcest.

Warnings: Drug use, recreational drug use, illegal drugs are illegal... Mmmkay?

Read it on AO3 here

The door opened and Dean stepped into the motel room, tossing a small, brown paper bag onto the crappy table in front of Sam’s laptop. Whatever was in it made a soft, rattling thunk. Sam looked at it and then up at Dean as he closed the door.

“What’s that?”

“I figured out how to find our killer.” Dean said as he pulled out the other chair and sat across from Sam.

“How?”

“What is the one thing that our witnesses who claim to have seen the shadow figure had that the other witnesses didn’t?”

Sam blinked at him for a moment, thinking. “I don’t know, what?”

Dean grabbed the bag, opened it, and pulled out an unlabeled orange plastic pill bottle with a few caplets in it, and tapped the bottle down onto the table. Sam picked it up and shook it while Dean crumpled up the bag and tossed it into the trash can. “Two points!”

“What are these?”

“MDMA.”

“Ecstasy?”

“Yup.” Dean watched the wheels turn in Sam’s head for a second before pulling out a folded paper from his jacket pocket. He held it up before tossing it down on the table. There was a phone number and the name Jeni written on it. “Open it.”

Sam gave a little huff of air out his nose with a shake of his head and looked at his brother who shot him a quick bragging sort of grin before shrugging. Dean never ceased to be Dean. Sam picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it.

“So our latest vic was rolling his ass off, right?” Dean said, matter of factly.

The contents of the toxicology report Sam was holding verified this to be true.

“So I thought back to our witnesses, the two who said they saw a ‘tall, thin, shadowy figure that flickered across the dance floor’ right before it attacked poor Dylan,” he tapped the newspaper clipping that was on top of the paperwork that Sam had stacked neatly next to his laptop. “Their pupils were dilated and were also really easy to get talking, like, they would not shut up. That one guy just kept going on about the song that was playing as if it was connected somehow, A club like that? With our victim’s system full of molly?” He flicked the report. “The official reports on all of these deaths have been that they were drug related, like that somehow explains how eleven people’s hearts just burst.”

“So you think they could only see it because they were high?” Sam asked dubiously.

“It’s not that far of a stretch. Drugs have been used since the beginning of time to alter states of consciousness as parts of religious and spiritual practices, vision quests and all that, right? Well, Ecstasy alters perceptions, for sure.”

“Huh. That’s actually… that’s not a bad theory.”

“Don’t sound too surprised there, Sammy.”

“No it’s just…” Sam laughed, “leave it to you to pick up on the recreational drug use angle.”

Dean smiled broadly at that. “I told you, man, that was all research. And I believe I said that it would come in handy someday too, didn’t I?”

“Yeah. You did.” Sam shook the bottle again and his brow furrowed. “So you bought these so that we could…” He trailed off, not entirely comfortable with where he saw this going.

“If the pattern holds, then there will be another attack tonight and you and I will be there, ready for it. Because if we aren’t, if we don’t stop it, someone else is gonna die and we’ll have to wait until next year to try again.”

“Ok, yeah.” Sam still sounded unsure and Dean looked at him, really looked at him for a second.

“Wait, you never…?”

Sam swallowed, brow furrow deepening, spots of red blooming on his cheeks, “No.”

“Oh shit, Sammy! No wonder you’re so uptight. It’ll be good, great even. We’ll gank the baddie and then just feel good about everything for a while. Of course the come down is a bitch. But knowing you, you’ll love that part, have a reason to be all moody and broody.”

Sam huffed another puff of air out his nose and pressed his lips together in annoyance.

***

The intimidatingly beefy man working the door had given them a look and just paused, blocking the entrance. Dean flashed him a smile and nonchalantly held his hand out, a neatly folded $50 held against his palm. With the briefest of glances, the bouncer shook his hand and when he let go the $50 had miraculously vanished and they were waved in past him.

As they walked into the club, the house music was loud and, well, it was loud and bassy, that’s about all Sam could say about it. Mostly dark, but with flashing, strobing lights and already a small sea of people milling about, some dancing, many drinking, forming little clusters and cliques around the space. Everyone looked like they belonged in the club, lots of skin and make-up, gelled hair and tanned muscles. All the bright colors glowed in the black lights that were scattered around. He followed Dean who had headed right towards the bar.

“Dean, we look like townies.”

“Yeah, we probably should have gone easy on the plaid. Oh well. I don’t think it’ll matter any way.” He bought two bottles of water from the bartender and handed one to Sam, followed by one of the caplets.

Before he could start to overthink the situation, Sam swallowed it with a gulp of water and saw Dean do the same.

“Alright. We’ve got twenty to thirty minutes, let’s scope the place out.” Dean indicated that he was going to go one way and wanted Sam to go the other. “Meet back here.”

Sam looked around, focusing on seeing through the flashing lights and movement. The music was an incessant pulsing on his eardrums and it was so loud it actually made his jeans vibrate as he passed speakers that were painted black to match and blend in with the walls. A lifetime of disciplined practice kicked in and the chaos toned down enough that he could really see the people around him and the layout of the place. He made note of doors and hallways, making educated guesses about where they’d lead. He found fire alarm pulls and where the emergency lighting boxes were. He kept a mental tally of faces and body language. He identified groups that had obviously come here together as well as individuals who were probably hoping to find someone to leave with later.

It took him about 10 minutes, the place wasn’t complex and the night was still young enough that it wasn’t completely packed yet, but he didn’t want to rush. Many well thought out plans had gone sour because of careless errors. So he took his time and made sure he did the job right. Dean was already back, leaning against the bar when Sam joined him.

They discussed the layout of the place and that they hadn’t seen anyone or anything suspicious looking. Although some of the usual paranormal tells were of no use here. EMF would be going off regardless of any supernatural activity, thanks to all the wiring for the lights and sound system. And of course spotting a flickering light would be next to impossible. But they’ve been doing this long enough that sometimes they can just tell.

“Ooh, hello.” Dean said with a smile.

Sam followed his gaze. A sun-kissed blonde was dancing and laughing with another girl. Toned, tan skin barely concealed by a top that was just a sparkly draped scrap of fabric that looked like it was being held on by magic, and a short, short leather skirt slung low across her hips. She should have been a model, and if she wasn’t then something wasn’t right with the universe. Sam raised his eyebrows, actually impressed. His brother’s appreciation for the female form was typically generous and undemanding, but, “Wow, yeah.”

Dean leaned a little towards Sam, “Sarah Adams in Galveston.”

“What?” Sam’s mind scrolled back quickly to a memory already a decade old. “Why? She looks nothing like Sarah Adams, Dean.”

“I know, but Sarah was hot! In that bathing suit, sitting up in the lifeguard chair, blowing her whistle…” His eyes shut for a second. “Mmm.”

Sam laughed. “What made you think of her?”

“Tan skin always makes me think of her. That was one hell of a hot summer. Did I ever tell you about the time I gave her a ride home from the mall? Dad had let me use the car…”

“Meaning he was asleep and you took it without asking.”

Dean continued as if he hadn’t heard the interjection, “...and she was walking. It was nine o’clock at night and it was still like 90 degrees. And she was wearing these little cutoff jean shorts and one of those stretchy shirts that just hug around the chest with no straps or anything.”

“A tube top?” Sam supplied.

“Oh yeah! You know the best part about a tube top?” and he gave Sam one of his patented cheshire leers.

Sam couldn’t help but smile back, knowing this was going nowhere good. “What?”

“Easy access!”

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed. He’d heard all about Dean’s exploits with Sarah Adams. She was all he’d talked about for months. Anytime their dad wasn’t around, he’d start in, regalling Sam with ever more exaggerated tales. Each retelling bringing a new level of disturbing detail to make the twelve year old Sam blush.

Sam wasn’t twelve anymore.

“Probably not as easy as that.” and he nodded at the blonde who was grinding back into a guy with gelled up spiky hair wearing tight black jeans and a partially unbuttoned white shirt. He had one hand on her hip, holding himself against her, and the other up under the scrap of fabric passing as her top.

Dean’s eyes widened and his lips went from smiling to forming a perfect O before he blinked and closed his mouth to swallow thickly.

The music pulsed and the couple moved with it.

“Oh, her friend doesn’t look happy though.” Sam noted and leaned a little closer to Dean, nodding towards the curvy brunette in a skin-tight red dress who’d been dancing and laughing with the blonde a few minutes ago. She tried to say something to her friend but was ignored. She tried again and got a shake of blonde hair in response. The guy scowled and said something abrupt.

“Oh, she’s getting mad.” Dean said.

The brunette was fuming and pulling on her friend’s arm. The blonde shook her off with a smile and turned around, plastering herself to the guy. Even though they couldn’t hear over the music from where they were, they saw the brunette shout her friend’s name as she stomped her foot.

“She’s kinda cute when she’s angry.”

“You get the feeling this isn’t the first time this has happened?”

Dean tugged on the front of his shirts, pulling the fabric away from his body a few times, “I bet Blondie does this all the time.”

“And she asked her friend to keep an eye on her, to stop her if she did it again?” Sam guessed.

“Nope.” Dean said with confidence. “Her friend is just tired of getting ditched when they go out but Blondie promised it wouldn’t happen this time. But now that she’s here, with the music, and a good looking guy, who okay, maybe he’s a douchebag, he looks like a douchebag, but he’s into her and she really needs the validation.”

Sam looked at his brother. That was surprisingly astute and not what he would’ve expected. Sometimes he forgets how intuitive Dean is, how he just seems to get how people work.

“Here she comes.”

Sam looked back into the crowd just as the brunette stormed over to the bar just past Dean. She got the bartender’s attention and ordered a drink. Dean had turned around as the bartender set the drink in front of her. He slid some money across the bar and leaned down towards her just a bit. “It’s on me.”

She looked up, annoyance blinked away quickly as she took in his face and easy smile.

Sam couldn’t see Dean’s face, but he could see hers and he already knew what she was facing. Dean might’ve never been able to get folks to trust him when he was being sincere, they always seemed to suspect him of something, but in settings like this, when he smiled at you, you felt it all the way down and it made your breath catch and your heart beat a little harder. Yeah, he might not earn trust easily, not like Sam always could, but Dean could seduce a snowman without hardly trying.

“Thanks.” she said and took a sip of her drink.

“You ok?”

She glanced back at her friend who was one step away from having sex with the guy on the dancefloor. “Yeah. She does this. I don’t know why I keep coming out with her.”

“Well, you are way too pretty to be someone’s chaperone, especially if they don’t really want one.”

Her cheeks burned red as she took a sip of her drink, but then she smiled as she swallowed. “You know what? I am. I look good tonight!” Confidence flared in her eyes, “Do you want to dance?”

Dean leaned in close to her and Sam couldn’t catch what he said. Dean gently ran a finger across the back of her hand as she wrote her number on a napkin and handed it to him. “Call me when you get done with that,” she said.

“You bet.” he said as she took her drink and sauntered off. Turning back to Sam he whistled, tucking the napkin into his pocket. “She’s a little firecracker!”

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“She went from fuming to prowling in like, five seconds!”

Dean laughed, “Oh that? That’s easy. Anger and horniness are like this.” and he held up two fingers pressed together. “She just wanted to be seen too, wanted to feel desirable.” He shrugged. “Man, I bet she is fun in the sack.”

Sam laughed. It was an honest laugh, lacking any of the lingering resentment or jealousy he usually felt when his brother picked up women.

Dean leaned back against the bar next to Sam, close enough that their shoulders were touching. “Picking up women isn’t hard if you keep that in mind. They want to be seen and made to feel like they’re wanted, appreciated. Some of them will shoot you down, but it’s nothing personal, just the wrong time and place.” He took a sip of his water and looked around the club. His laid back casanova vibe slipped for a moment as he scanned for anything hinky.

There were more people now, easily twice as many as when they’d come in. Sam realized that he’d started to sweat and wished that he could take off his jacket, but considering the sawed off shotgun the jacket was concealing, he kept it on. Sam knew that Dean would have never tipped a bouncer fifty bucks to get into a club, at least, not without trying a twenty first. But in all likelihood, the guy was going to lose his job tonight, thanks to them, so he’d just gone high. To hell with it.

A woman squeezed up to the bar to Sam’s right. Normally, the close contact would make him feel uncomfortable, self conscious, like he was taking up too much space, but she smelled really good and her voice, when she ordered her drink, had surprising depth to it, like Kathleen Turner in Romancing the Stone. She paid for her drink and brushed against his hand as she walked away, the fabric of her shirt was soft.

“It’s getting to be about that time. You see anything yet?” Dean said, his breath ghosting over Sam’s ear as he leaned in. They looked around.

“Nothing unusual yet.” Sam said, looking past Dean and down the bar towards the entrance before noticing that Dean was looking at him. Dean licked his bottom lip, curling it in and then slowly letting it roll back out. His eyes were dilated so much that just a thin ring of green showed.

“How’re you doing?” He asked.

Sam thought about it for a second before saying, “Good. I’m doing good.” And he meant it. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt all the weight lift off of his shoulders. He felt like he could breathe freely, like he could feel the air going out of his lungs carrying away the constant fear. Dean smiled at him and he felt all the hundreds of thousands of smiles from their past sweep over him. All the times that Dean made him laugh, and he realized that was almost never an accident. Dean had always seemed to know when the tension was too much, when Sam had been scared, when he was angry, and had also known just how to lighten the mood. Sam smiled now, thinking back on it all, and Dean’s face just lit up.

“Ugh! Get a room!” someone shouted and Sam looked up and around. Blondie and Douchebag were still grinding away out there, oblivious to the mixed reactions of the people around them. There were some, mostly guys, who were watching like they were hoping the two really would start having sex right there. But there were also a lot of negative looks, head shakes, and people pointedly avoiding the area. And then he saw it.

“Dean.” he said as he straightened up.

“Yeah I see it.”

A thin, shadowy figure had just flickered past the couple, moving off to one side of the room with a sense of purpose.

“Go.” Dean ordered and Sam took off towards the fire alarm pull that was on the wall near the restrooms. Dean followed the shadow, trying to spot its target before it got to whoever it was, pulling his sawed-off free from its bindings under his coat, but keeping it out of sight.

Just as he spotted a group of what seemed like high school kids that were right in the path of the creature as it flit through the crowd between strobes of the multicolored lights, the music suddenly cut out and the piercingly loud scream of the fire alarm went off. Dean had the shotgun out and trained on the shadow just as the pulsing, strobing lights stopped and were replaced by brilliant pools of emergency lighting around the edges of the space.

People stopped in stunned confusion.

“Fire! Everyone out!” Dean boomed and the crowd around him flinched.

“He’s got a gun!” a woman shouted and the people around him pushed back and started running towards the exits.

Dean stayed focused on the shadow. It turned on him and flickered closer. As soon as he had a clear shot, no one between him and it and no one immediately behind it either, he squeezed the trigger and the shotgun let loose an explosion of blindingly bright light.

“Fuck!” he shouted, his eyes stinging and shutting too late. Blinking furiously, he tried to look around but it was no use, his vision was blown out by the flash and he couldn’t see anything but the after image of the blast.

A coldness spiked through his chest, right into his heart. He gasped with the pain and fell to his knees. It was like an icicle stabbing him through, cold then burning, then searing pain. He couldn’t breathe.

“DEAN!”

A sun exploded right over his head and everything went black.

Sam fired his second shot point blank into the dissipating shadow, his eyes shutting just before and reopening as soon as the glare from the phosphorus started to fade. He had no way of knowing if he’d killed the thing or not, was still not convinced that a shadow could be killed, but it appeared to be gone, at least for now. At his feet, Dean gasped like he’d just surfaced from a long dive underwater.

“Dean! Are you okay?” He asked as he grabbed his brother by the front of his shirts.

Dean coughed. “I’m getting really tired of things squeezing my heart! Shit that hurts!”

“Come on.” and Sam hauled his brother to his feet, scooping up the second shotgun and pulling Dean towards the back exit. If the bitchy quality of Dean’s voice was anything to go by, and a lifetime spent together told him it was, Sam knew that Dean was going to be fine. God knows they’d both learned how to take hits. Sure enough, by the time they got out into the alley, Dean was walking unassisted. By the time they got to where the Impala was parked, he was laughing.

“I told you it was a shadow person!”

Sam shook his head but found he couldn’t wipe the relieved smile off his face. “Yep, you were right.”

“Of course I was right.” the driver’s side door creaked loudly as he opened it and slid in behind the wheel, as easy as breathing.

The passenger side door gave an answering creak. Sam tossed the guns down onto the floor behind the front seat and took off his jacket, dropping it over them before folding himself into the passenger seat.

Both doors squeak/banged shut at the same time. The car roared to life.

“And how about those phosphorus rounds, eh?”

“They really seemed to do the trick.”

“Yeah they did! I’m still see streaks though, hope that fades fast.” and he gunned the car down the alley and away from the sound of approaching sirens.

Sam sat back and stared out the window, enthralled with everything they passed, the streetlights, signs, buildings, cars, people, houses, sidewalks, the bits of broken glass that glittered at the edges of every intersection, weeds growing in the cracks and crevices, the obligatory lone shoe laying forgotten on the shoulder of an on ramp. And all the while, Dean sang along with his well-worn Led Zeppelin Physical Graffiti cassette. His exuberant renditions pulling Sam’s attention away from the passing scenery and making him smile.

Although when he sang, “In my time of dying, want nobody to moan, all I want for you to do is take my body home, so I can die easy,” a wave of sadness rolled through Sam. Sometimes music hit too close, you know? But then the beat dropped and Dean was grinning and drumming on the steering wheel and the passing headlights were lighting up his face in time with the song and Sam let himself be buoyed back up. There’d be plenty of time for worries and regrets later, he felt too good. He knew it was just the drug in his system, stripping away the burden of his life, he didn’t care.

The night was cool, bordering on chilly, but the air was crisp and the sky was clear and they had driven with their windows down. It took about an hour for Dean to get out of the city and find a secluded place to pull off the road.

He killed the lights and shut off the engine, the radio going silent with it. Out here, far enough away from lights and traffic, the stars cast a soft glow on the trees and tall grasses and everything was hushed and still.

“Come on.” he said, slapping the back of his fingers into Sam’s knee with a flick of his hand before opening his door and climbing out of the car.

As Sam grabbed his door handle, Dean popped the trunk and then shut it almost immediately. Then he opened the back driver’s side door and dug around in the cooler that was sitting on the backseat. Sam got out and stood up, amazed at how good it felt to stretch his legs out.

“Hey.” Dean said. “Catch.”

Sam caught the beer can as it sailed over the car.

Dean rolled down the back window and closed the door. There was a loud crack and hiss when he opened his beer and took a long drink as he walked towards the front of the car.

Sam knew this routine. It was a star gazing night.

“Hold this.” Dean held his beer out for Sam to take. Once his hands were free he shook out the old, green, Army blanket that he’d gotten out of the trunk and spread it out over the hood to, “Protect the paint.”

Once they were stretched out on the car, heads resting up against the windshield, legs stretched out the length of the hood, Sam cracked open his beer and took a sip. Realizing how dry his mouth was, he took a longer drink. The cool liquid was downright glorious. For the first time he looked at the can, it was a Margiekugel, nothing unusual, but he didn’t remember it ever tasting this satisfying before.

After several long minutes of silence, Dean pointed at the sky, his beer still in his hand, “Orion.”

“You always start with the easiest one.”

“He’s the hunter, that’s where it starts.”

“Okay. Canis Minor.” Sam pointed.

“The Big Dipper.”

“The Little Dipper.”

“Mars.”

“Mars is a planet.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not the game, Dean.”

“Fine. Cassiopeia.”

“Jupiter,” he felt Dean side-eye him, “in the constellation of Virgo.”

“Show off.”

“I don’t know that one, where is it?” Sam said, deadpanning it.

“Uranus.”

They both laughed and drank their beers, just the two of them, laying in the dark under the stars.

The wool blanket was warm and scratchy against Sam’s fingers when he laid his left hand down on it. But the feeling was fascinating and he absentmindedly brushed his fingers back and forth. When Dean relaxed and rested his beer down, his right hand curled loosely around it, Sam’s fingers brushed his knuckles. Neither of them seemed to care. Everything felt so completely right that it lulled them into a contented silence.

After a while, the last drops of beer warming on his tongue, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the car. “Another?”

“You know it.”

Next Chapter>>>

#Hey look I wrote a thing!#spn fanfic #spn fan fiction #weirdcest #gencest #no wincest #but it kinda leans that way in the way the show kinda leans that way at times #dean winchester #sam winchester #the winchester brothers #being their emotional enmeshed selves #cw drugs #tw drugs

31 notes · View notes