RockStarPeach

I know it's been forever since I've updated this series!  And uh... I don't even know what to say about this.  I sort of want to dig a hole in the ground and hide forever (or at least until ash stops calling me a girl) because this is probably close to the schmoopiest thing I've ever written.  I couldn't help it, it just... happened!  I almost feel like I should post some random Jensen/JDM daddy!kink just to make up for it ;)

Title:  How to Date Your Brother – Step Eight:  Look at a Calendar Once In a While

Pairing:  Dean/Sam

Rating:  Adult

Word count:  4700

Summary:  Sam’s acting strange and Dean’s being kind of a jerk.  He usually is, but this time Sam reacts to it differently than normal.  When Dean realises what’s going on, he’s kind of sorry.  Sex is always a great way to apologise.  Pretty much the only one Dean knows.

A/N:  Sequel to ‘Blow Me’.  You don’t have to read that first for this to make sense, you just need to know this – First, Dean and Sam started to fool around.  Then they started to like it.  Then they started to like each other.  Now, they have to fumble their way through what happens next.
 

 

***

Dean barely glanced up from his laptop screen as Sam shifted his chair a little bit closer and let his legs fall open, so that one large thigh pressed up tightly against Dean’s under the table.  It wasn’t that he would be opposed to a quickie, if that was what Sam was offering, but he wasn’t getting his hopes up that that was all it was.

Sam had been giving him looks all day.  Like… looks.  Like, expectant looks, sappy almost, and Dean was starting to feel kind of stupid because he had no idea what the Hell had crawled up Sam’s ass and turned him into an even bigger girl than he usually was.

He was smiling, which in itself was weird for Sam when what he was smiling at was Dean, and he’d been standing too close, touching a lot, kissing a lot.  None of that shit was something Dean usually put up with unless they were naked and he was about to get laid and Sam didn’t usually bother with it either. 

Sam had also been unusually agreeable, from pretty much the moment they rolled out of their beds in the morning.  Sam let Dean shower first, made the coffee from the cheap little filter on the table, volunteered to interview the scary old man who gave Dean the creeps and picked up chilli cheese fries for lunch after.

He hadn’t been arguing with Dean at all today, even when Dean had purposely been a douche and made him walk back to the hotel from the Museum of Natural History because Sam had stepped in a puddle and he didn’t want to get the interior of his baby all muddied up.

It was less than two blocks, and Sam had actually gotten there first because Dean hit a red light, but still.  Sam didn’t even laugh at him, just changed into different pants and kissed Dean’s cheek as he sat down next to him at the table and they pulled open their computers.

“You want a beer?” Sam asked two hours later and Dean tried to discreetly shut down the window that was playing his most recent favourite porn download before Sam walked behind him and noticed.

It was a bust.  His computer froze for two seconds too long on pretty hot money shot just as Sam passed behind him and Dean cringed, waiting for Sam to slap him on the back of his head and tell him to get back to work.

To Dean’s complete and utter surprise, Sam just chuckled, warm and quiet, before poking Dean in the shoulder.  “Blondes aren’t your usual type,” Sam pointed out, then leant down to press a kiss to the back of his neck as the video finally minimised.  “So… beer?”

“I…”

There was a freshly opened bottle in his hand before Dean could even really finish his thought.  He looked at it for a second, blinked with an open mouth and then slammed it down on the table next to his computer.

“Okay, seriously, Sam,” he said, with maybe a little more force than was necessary, but shit, Sam acting all Stepford on him was fucking him up.  “What the Hell did you do?”

“What?” Sam asked, pulling his face tight briefly before smiling again.  “What do you mean, ‘What did I do’?”

Dean huffed lightly, his mouth open on the exhale and he shook his head.  “You’ve been acting weird all day.  You’ve been… nice to me.  Like, stupid nice.  So either you’re possessed, or you did something wrong and you’re trying to soften me up.  So spill, Sammy.

Sam sighed and sat down next to Dean, letting his fingers trail gently over Dean’s forearm where it rested on the table. 

“You’re insane, you know that?” he asked with a grin before shaking his head and getting back to scrolling through his laptop screen.

An hour passed.  A blessed hour of silence where Sam didn’t invade his personal space once, but it came to crashing end just about supper time, when Sam leaned over and nuzzled the side of his neck as he worked a hand up Dean’s knee to settle high on his thigh.

“Hungry?” Sam asked, breath blowing out over Dean’s ear.  “I’m hungry.  Want to get some food?”

“Mmm,” Dean answered, and pulled back slightly, hit the ‘scroll down’ button on his computer and frowned when it took the new images of naked ladies a little too long to load up.  Yeah, he was hungry alright.  He’d be even hungrier if Sam moved his hand a little to the left.  But that probably wasn’t what Sam meant.  “That sounds good.  Pick me a cheeseburger, yeah?”

“No,” Sam said, sitting up straight and when Dean looked over at him he was frowning.  “I meant… I mean we should go out somewhere.  Somewhere nice.  Together.”

Dean frowned and jerked back, twitching his leg to throw Sam’s hand off.  “What the fuck for?” he asked, because seriously, this was getting weird.  Sam might be a giant woman, but he was never this clingy.  “We’re kinda in the middle of something here, Sammy.  This ghost ain’t gonna gank itself.”

Which was kind of bullshit, because Dean had figured out a few hours ago that they had four more days until the anniversary of Patricia Harris’ death, and she wouldn’t be showing up again until then.  It was a basic salt and burn, but so far there was no luck on locating the remains.  At this point Dean figured they just needed to wait it out and follow the ghost back to where she was buried.  In the mean time, they were pretty much drinking beer and playing scrabble.  Not that he’d told Sam yet.  It was kind of funny to watch him do all that work while Dean surfed for porn.

Sam flinched, actually fucking flinched when Dean harshly shot him down, but his face smoothed out almost instantly and he sighed, rolling his eyes as he stood.  “Fine.  You want anything else?”

“Pie?” Dean asked, grinning stupidly.  “I always love pie, Sammy.”

Sam grumbled something under his breath that Dean didn’t quite catch as he grabbed his coat and his keys and left the room, closing the door hard behind him.  Dean startled as the loud slam of wood on wood sounded through the room and pouted petulantly at Sam’s bitchiness.

What the Hell was his problem, anyway?

Dean took advantage of the time that Sam was gone to kick back on the bed and channel surf.  Nothing was on, nothing Dean really wanted to watch anyway, but Dean was sort of porned out for moment and ‘The Magic Bullet’ infomercial was probably good for a laugh.

Fifteen minutes later Dean was seriously considering ordering one of those food processors.  They could make fucking anything and that salsa looked really good and Jesus, pizza in less than thirty seconds?  And it wouldn’t take up much space in the trunk and it would save them hundreds of dollars a month!

The door opened and Sam came through carrying two paper bags in his arms and shut the door behind him with his foot.

“Dude,” Dean said, looking at Sam quickly before gesturing at the television.  “We need one of these things.  It can do any job in the kitchen in ten seconds or less and… wait, ew.”  He paused and scrunched up his face in disgust at whatever they were currently blending up on the screen.  “Why the Hell would I want to do that to fish?”

Sam made that mocking half laugh, half snort sound he made and put the bags down on the table.  “You’re a moron,” he said as he pushed the computers off to the side before taking things out of the bags and setting them up on the table.  “We don’t even have a kitchen half the time, Dean.  Now turn that off and get over here.”

“No,” Dean said.  “This commercial is awesome.  Toss my burger over.”

“Dean,” Sam sighed.  “Just… Come on.  Please.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he stood up, but there was something about the tone of Sam’s voice that made him feel off.  Guilty.  Like Sam disappointed in him.

“Fine,” he said and smashed the power button on the television before he started towards their crappy little table.  He stopped after only a step and blinked, watching as Sam straightened up three random flowers that were a little lopsided in a cheap plastic vase, the kind you get at gas stations or mini marts.

Dean’s brows narrowed and he cocked his head when Sam set up their dinners in front of the chairs, then pulled out what looked like a four dollar bottle of wine and poured some into two plastic champagne flutes.  Dean squinted as he got closer and saw the words ‘It’s a Boy’ printed across them in frosted white.

Dean picked one up and turned it around to Sam, raising an amused eyebrow.  “Something you’re trying to tell me, Sammy?”

Sam glared at him.  “It was all they had at the store, jerk.  Sit down.” 

“Bossy,” Dean grumbled, but sat down across from Sam anyway and looked at the table.  Next to the flowers there was a candle, one of those air freshener kinds that smelled like lilacs and said ‘Febreeze’ across the side, but still.  Wine, flowers, a fucking candle… and of course Sam chose that exact moment to hit a button on his laptop and fill the room with the soft sounds adult contemporary. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Dean asked, looking at the source of the music like it was not only offensive but also satanic. 

“Shut up,” Sam snapped.  “Wrong button.”

He hit a few more keys and the music changed over to Zeppelin.  Dean nodded with a pleased smile and he picked up his burger, bringing it halfway to his mouth before he noticed Sam staring at him and stopped.

“What, did I forget our anniversary or something?” he joked, and Sam let out a breath and yep, that was disappointment alright.  “Seriously, Sam.  What’s with the gas station romance you’ve got goin’ on?”

“You really have no idea?”

“About..?”

Sam laughed then, the real kind, like he was amused and not pissed off and Dean let out a mental breath because he so did not want to be in trouble today.  “You don’t.  You have no idea.”

“Sam.”

“Dean, it’s Valentine’s day.”

Shit.  “Yeah, I know,” he said, quickly covering up the look of surprised terror with one that implied that Sam was a retard for thinking Dean had forgotten.  Which, obviously, he had.  Despite the displays in store windows and supermarket check-outs for the past two weeks.

“Dean,” Sam said with an indulgent smile and slight head tilt.  Fucking bastard.  “It’s okay.  Really.  If…”

“Dude, I didn’t forget!” Dean insisted.  Fuck.  Why the Hell couldn’t he just admit defeat and keep himself from looking like a complete loser.  “I didn’t.  I just... I got you something totally awesome.  Was just gonna wait ‘til later.  You know, after…  Hey, actually, you know what?” he asked as he stood up and looked around the room desperately for some sort of excuse.  “I just remembered I need to… we’re out of shaving cream, so I should probably go now, before the stores close, and…”

“Dean,” Sam said, full-on laughing.  “Just stop now.  Please.  Really, it’s okay.”

Dean blew out a breath and sat back down.  His first fucking Valentine’s day with someone to celebrated with that he didn’t just pick at a bar an hour before and he goes and blows it.  Hey, maybe if he blows Sam it’ll make up for it.

He was fine with forgetting, for the most part.  He certainly didn’t need the discount dinner Sam had cooked up because Dean was a jerk and refused to go out to an actual one, and he didn’t think Sam needed flowers and candy and shit.  He would have been fine to just ignore the whole thing, really, and he was pretty sure that one of the perks of fucking a dude was that you didn’t have to worry about any of that romance shit.

He was wrong, apparently, and that’s what sucked about this.  Sam had been expecting something, and Dean let him down.

“It’s not okay,” Dean countered, shaking his head.  “Do you really… I mean, we can still go out.  If you want.”  He smiled then as he continued, teasing.  “You can get all dolled up and I can take you someplace nice.  Treat you like a princess.”

“Thin ice, Dean,” Sam warned with a sharp look, but it softened when Dean chuckled.  “I mean it though.  It’s okay.  I mean, I celebrated a few Valentine’s days in the past.  You know, with Jess.  And it was nice, so I thought it might be nice again.  I like doing stuff like this.”

Sam gestured at the lame table set-up and cringed.  “Okay, not quite like this, but you know what I mean.”

“Sam…”

“I know it’s stupid, but sometimes it’s fun to have a day where you can just celebrate being in love.  Where someone does something nice for you and you know they care.”

“Sam, I suck at this shit.  I probably always will, but fuck.  You know I care.”

“I do,” Sam agreed, nodding quickly as he reached across the table to take one of Dean’s hands in his own.  “I do know that, Dean.  Which is why this really isn’t a big deal.”  He grinned then, wide and silly and his eyes fucking twinkled.  Like, literally.  Fucking candle.  How was it possible that Sam was this damn adorable?  “So stop feeling guilty and let’s eat!”

Dean couldn’t really argue with that, not when there was a cheeseburger in a Styrofoam container staring up at him, all beefy and thick and juicy and just begging to be devoured.  And wow.  That sounded a little gay.  He frowned and shook the thought off, picked up his food and started eating.

“Happy Valentine’s day,” Sam said once they were done eating and he’d topped off their wine cups.  He held his out for Dean’s to clink against and Dean let out a disbelieving puff of breath but ultimately obliged.

“Thanks, Sammy,” he told him, grudgingly.  “This was nice.”  And the thing was, it was nice.  Fuck, he really wished he’d remembered and gotten something for Sam.  Of course, there was still one thing he could give him that Sam would always love.

“So…” he said, standing up as he put his glass down and held his hand out to Sam.  “Sex?”

Sam threw his head back and laughed, a deep rumbling sound before he grabbed Dean’s hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of his chair.

“Wow, such a romantic,” he teased, smiling.  “But yeah, Dean.  Sex sounds good.”

Dean pulled Sam against him, wrapped one arm around Sam’s waist while the other held his hand tight and pressed between their chests.  He smiled shyly as he swayed them to the music for a few beats before he decided that was just way too damn gay and tilted his face up towards Sam’s.

“Okay, listen to me because I’m only gonna say this once,” he said, and Sam just nodded with a superior sort of smile.  Ass.  “You’re… pretty awesome.”  Fuck, that was lame, but Dean was seriously out of his element here.  Sam probably could have done better with his mouth sewn shut, the stupid show off.  “And I’m lucky to have you.  So just… thanks.  For putting up with me.”

Sam’s smile turned softer and his hand slid around the back of Dean’s neck.  “Somebody’s got to,” he answered, and lowered his head so he could press his lips against Dean’s.  Dean froze for a split second, instinct briefly taking over before he relaxed and let Sam kiss him, let Sam’s tongue push inside his mouth and swirl around his own.

It didn’t go on for long before Dean stepped back and when Sam’s mouth left his Sam took a deep breath and licked his lips.  “You’re worth it, Dean,” he told him.  “Even when you’re an ass, you’re worth it, because I love you.”

Okay.  That was just about enough.

“Dude,” Dean said, the word coming out on a long, exasperated breath.  “I’m tryin’ to get laid here, and that kind of shit kills my wood.  So just… save it for after I’m asleep or something.  Kay?”

“Dean,” Sam said, doing a piss poor job of trying to keep a straight face.  “The only reason you’re not sleeping in the car tonight is because you’re so damn see-through it’s not even funny.  So you might want to cut your losses and shut up now.”

Dean didn’t entirely agree with Sam on that one, but Hell.  Good advice was good advice so he snapped his mouth shut and pushed Sam in the direction of the nearest bed.  Sam went willingly and with a crooked smile on his face he quickly stripped out of his clothes before lying down and looking at Dean expectantly.

“Well,” he prompted, cocking his head as Dean blinked.  He knew he probably looked like an idiot, just staring as his mouth hung open and drool probably leaked from the corner, but it so wasn’t his fault.  Shit but Sam looked good.

In a way, the most important way, that was awesome.  Dean loved looking at pretty things and Sam – all naked and spread out, muscles flexing slightly under perfect skin as he moved around and lips parted just enough so his tongue could slide across them, making them glisten and look so fucking inviting – yeah, that was basically the prettiest thing that ever was or ever will be.

But a way it kind of sucked.  In the older brother way, where Dean got competitive and irrationally jealous and sort of pissed off because Dean was the better looking one, everybody knew that.  Or he had been anyway, until he’d started fucking Sam and then Sam just got so…

Okay, fuck that.  Yeah, it was Valentine’s day and yeah, Sam had been extremely awesome so far and Dean was definitely getting some sex, but that didn’t mean he wanted to go waxing poetic about Sam’s perfect abs, or ass so tight it was built for fucking, or those goddamn dimples. 

Those things weren’t really so great anyway.  Dean didn’t want to look like that, he just sort of… wasn’t complaining that Sam did.

Besides, Sam had stupid hair.  So there.

It wasn’t until Sam cleared his throat and wriggled a little on the bed that Dean realised he’d been having that conversation inside his own head and his very naked, very willing, very pretty brother was still waiting for him to make a move.  Wow.  Yeah, cool Dean.  Way to not look like a total moron.

“You coming or what?  ‘Cause I can get started on my own, if you’re not into this.”

Dean made a pathetic sort of sound in his throat at the idea of Sam getting started on his own, because as much as he very much wanted to participate, the idea of watching Sammy get himself off was always a good one.

“Feel free to get started,” Dean said, shedding his overshirt before working his t up and over his head.  “I’ll be right there.”

By the time Dean was naked Sam had his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his eyes were closed as he worked his hand slowly up and down his hard cock, using his precome to slick the way.  He knew just what he was doing to Dean too, the little shit.

“Holy fuck,” Dean whispered and scrambled onto the bed to settle between Sam’s legs, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at him.  Sam fluttered his eyes open and smiled at Dean, started to move his hand from his cock to wrap it around Dean’s back but Dean stopped him with a firm grasp on Sam’s forearm.

“No,” he said.  “Don’t stop.  Fuck, Sammy, keep going.  Want to watch you.”

Sam smiled at him again, small at first as he wrapped his long fingers solidly around his dick again and he started to move them, faster and faster and Dean’s eyes were glued to the action.  His breathing became more hitched and his hips starting to thrust forward against the inside of Sam’s thigh and Sam’s grin became wider.

“Dude, you are so into me,” Sam said and Dean scowled at the self-assured tone.  “Seriously.  You want to fuck me so bad you’re actually getting stupid because of it.”

Dean’s scowl deepened and he snapped his eyes up to look at Sam’s face.

“Don’t get too smug,” he told him.  “I get kinda stupid when I’m reading Archies.”

Sam just shook his head, not losing any of his smile.  “I’m the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.”

“God, I hate you.”

“No, really.  You totally…”

Dean abruptly cut off any further bragging on Sam’s part (which was all total bullshit anyway, because Sam wasn’t nearly as irresistible as he thought he was) by grabbing his thighs to push them up and apart and sliding down the bed so his face was between Sam’s legs.

Sam cried out and went rigid, pushed into the bed and opened himself up wider when Dean’s broad tongue swept across the crack of his ass and then straightened out to press the tip inside his hole as far as it could go.  It wasn’t any less gross than it ever was (because seriously, who ever said ‘Mmm, this beer tastes like ass, I’ll have another please’?) but Dean was getting used to it.  Besides, he’d learned a while ago that this was always the best way to shut Sam up.

Except for all the sex noises he was making, but those were good kinds of noises.  Sam’s yapping?  Not so much.

Dean wriggled his tongue and Sam moaned, a low, quiet sound that got louder and louder, broke and turned into the most perfect strangled sound that Dean had ever heard.  When he pulled his tongue out to paint the rim of Sam’s pucker with his saliva and grabbed his head to push him closer, Dean’s dick got even harder and he started to fuck the mattress in jerky little thrusts.

“Oh God, Dean,” Sam breathed out, and when Dean added a finger into Sam’s hole along with his tongue Dean looked up.  Sam’s eyes were closed and his mouth was open, head tilted to the side resting on his pillow.  The hand that wasn’t gripping tight to Dean’s short hair was still furiously working his cock and Dean knew it wouldn’t be long.

“Dean, stop,” Sam panted, and Dean grinned because Sam wasn’t stopping, wasn’t even slowing down.  He was still pushing himself back on Dean’s tongue and finger, still jerking himself off, fingers gripping tight around the shaft and squeezing out precome.  Dean just circled his tongue around Sam’s rim again and added a second finger, started pumping them in harder, faster.

“Don’t want to stop, Sammy,” he mumbled.  “Want to watch you lose control.  Want to hear you scream my name.”

“Deeean,” Sam groaned, stretching the word out as Dean’s fingers twisted inside him and Dean keened quietly and worked his dick against the bed faster as he tilted his chin up to lap at Sam’s heavy sac.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” Dean coaxed, swirling his tongue around again and hitting Sam’s prostate with his fingers.  Sam cried out, a wordless shout as his hand tightened even more on his cock and Jesus Christ, Dean was going to lose it before Sam at this rate. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sam chanted, his heels digging hard into the bed as he moved back and forth between his own fist and Dean’s fingers and that was it.  Dean didn’t bother holding back anymore, just held his breath, pumped his hips a few more times and came all over the blanket.  Fuck, three Goddamn minutes of licking his brother’s ass and humping the bed and he loses his shit like a freakin’ twelve year old.

That shit was fucking embarrassing.

He fought the urge to curl up and pass out, instead redoubling his efforts on Sam.  He wasn’t going to be the only one to lose it in less than five minutes.  He spread his fingers a little and curled them, angled them just how Sam liked and took his balls into his mouth, sucking gently.  He straightened his fingers, then curled them again, pulled them out and little and pushed back in, the pads sliding over Sam’s sweet spot with just enough force.

“Jesus!  Fuck!  Dean!” Sam cried as he jackknifed on the bed, throwing his head back.  The muscles in his arms and stomach tightened and he spilled all over his hand, come dribbling down between his fingers and over his stomach.

“Mmm,” Dean hummed, and slowly pulled his fingers free when Sam’s hand loosened and his erection started to fade.  “Atta boy, Sammy,” he said and smiled at his sated brother as he climbed out from between his legs to lie next to him.

“Ngh,” Sam grunted and waved a hand vaguely in the direction of Dean’s cock without opening his eyes.  Or moving in any other way.  “Give me a minute, and I’ll get you.”

Dean chuckled softly and lifted the jizz-soaked blanket, using a clean part to wipe Sam off before he threw it on the floor. 

“Nah, I’m good,” he said.

“Seriously?” Sam asked, cracking an eye open and cocking his head at Dean.  “You got off on that?  Dude, I didn’t even touch you.”  Sam grinned then, that stupid, smug grin of his.  “Ha!  I knew it.  You’re so hot for me that just basking in my presence is enough to get you off.”

Dean narrowed his eyes and shoved at Sam’s shoulder, hard.  “That’s how you say ‘thank you’?  You can eat yourself out next time, asshole.”

Sam just smiled.  “Go brush your teeth,” he ordered, giving Dean a shove off the bed.  “I want to make out.”

Dean glared at him, but Sam had a point, so he went.  No sense spending the rest of the night tasting ass just because his brother was a douche.  When he came back out, all minty fresh and scrubbed down, Sam was tucked into the clean bed and patting the empty space next to him, not looking anywhere near as innocent as he was going for.

“I’m not kissing you,” Dean warned, with his index finger stabbing sharply in Sam’s direction and he turned the television back on before he climbed onto bed.

“Sweet!” he said, kicking out his legs to get more comfortable as the screen flickered to life.  “ShamWow!  You got any idea how much water that shit’ll hold?  We gotta get some.”

Sam rolled on his side, leaned over and kissed him, despite Dean’s protests.  With tongue and everything.  Dean fought him at first, but he was just starting to give up, to wrap his arm around Sam and pull him down so they could deepen the kiss more, maybe get round two going, when Sam pulled back and held up Dean’s wallet in one hand.  Dean’s wallet that had been on the table next to the bed, the sneaky little bitch.

“What the…”

Sam tucked the wallet under his pillow and pulled the blanket up over his chest, closing his eyes.  “I’m keeping the credit cards from now on.”

Dean shot him a dirty look and grumbled something to himself about bitchy little brothers before he turned the station to Casa Erotica. 

“Hey Sammy?” he said a few minutes later.

“Hm?”  Sam turned his head and opened his eyes. 

Dean reached out to cup the side of Sam’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone and leaned in to press his lips over Sam’s.  It was just a peck really, catching Sam’s top lip between his own, letting the tip of his tongue slide out to moisten it slightly, but when he pulled back Sam was blushing.

“Happy Valentine’s day.”

Step Nine