
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/607301.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural, Glee
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Evans, Dean_Winchester/Sam_Evans/Impala
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Evans, Sam_Winchester, Bobby_Singer
  Additional Tags:
      possible_OCs, Unsafe_Sex, Underage_Drinking, Road_Trips, BAMFiness_by_all
      involved, more_tags_will_be_added_at_the_author's_discretion, Canon
      Typical_Violence, transsexual_character, MtF_transformation, probably
      slow_updates, Possible_Mpreg
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-12-24 Updated: 2013-04-14 Chapters: 4/? Words: 5905
****** Miss Samantha and Her Man the Hunter ******
by MostlySane
Summary
     Life isn't going so great for Sam Evans, until a mysterious stranger
     picks him up outside of 7/11. Then he embarks on a trip around the
     US, fighting mythical monsters and becoming Miss Samantha. But will
     happen when real life come calling?
Notes
     Disclaimer: Has there been an episode of Glee where two smokin' hot
     brothers in an Impala show up to beat up monsters and sex up the Glee
     club? No? Well, then, whadaya know! I don't own Supernatural and Glee
     after all!
     This is another of my fics from ff.net that I want to continue, so
     I've moved it here. Hope you all like!
     Asterisks:
     *a madam is basically a nice name for a female pimp
     *I don't actually know what color Sam's hair is supposed to be, but
     let's go with Dean's okay? Does anyone know if Chord Overstreet is a
     natural blond or not?
     *now, you may be thinking, "hey, they shouldn't know that!" well,
     yes, they can. One of my family members is a secret agent. He can't
     say what he does, or what branch, or whatever, but he does know
     martial arts and how to use a weapon.
     *I'll explain Dean's explanation later, kay?
***** Enter the Hunter *****
Normally, Sam would be ashamed to be here, standing outside a Seven-Eleven
trying to look like a lost puppy and hoping someone would be sympathetic and
shady enough to buy him a drink. So far though, he'd gotten five numbers, three
from hot girls, one from an obvious madam*, and the last from a shifty guy who
kept glancing meaningfully at an alley. Sam wasn't sure he really wanted to
know what that guy wanted.
But really, Sam wasn't interested in sex. Okay, yes, he knew he sounded more
like an alien from Mars, and less like the healthy teenage boy he was, but
really, sex was drama, and Sam had no room in his life for that. Even if he had
a one night stand, the girl might possibly get pregnant, and with Mom already
pregnant again, that would be just one, two more mouths to feed.
Also, Sam wasn't trying to be conceited or anything, but what if the girl
decided she wanted more, like say, a relationship? Well, after the whole Quinn/
Finn fiasco, he was of the mind that he just didn't anything like that again in
his life.
Besides, Sam felt…tired. Not physically, no, today was not a gym or football
practice day, but Sam just felt…drained. He didn't feel like getting to
whatever place this hypothetical girl might want to hook-up, and he certainly
didn't feel like snapping on a condom and getting busy. He just wanted to lay
somewhere and being drunk or at least slightly buzzed seemed like a good option
as well.
So here he was, standing by the door like a dejected puppy. No one was falling
for it, except a sweet little girl about Stacie's age, who gave him one of her
lollipops and a wide, gap-toothed grin. Sam sighed and shifted his weight.
Just then, a shiny black, very well taken care of, 1967 Chevy Impala vroomed up
to the curb. Now Sam wasn't exactly as crazy about cars as most of his fellow
male classmates and peers, but as soon as he laid eyes on that vehicle, he fell
head over heels in love.
The guy who stepped out immediately intrigued Sam. His hair was sandy, about
the color of Sam's real hair without the lemon juice*, but the guy's hair was
short, and spiky on top. He wore a badass leather jacket, just as badass ripped
up jeans, and not the store bought rips, and even more badass, "well loved", as
his mother would say, clunky, combat boots. Under his jacket he wore an open
red plaid flannel shirt, and the classic black AC/DC t-shirt.
But that wasn't what really caught Sam's attention. What caught him and held
him was the way the man held himself. He held himself like a well-trained
soldier pretending to be a civilian. Sam knew, because as a little boy, and
even when he had the chance now, he spent every spare moment of family get-
togethers studying every move and mannerism of Uncle Jesse, who everyone in the
family knew was some sort of secret agent. * And this man, he had the same
mannerisms as Uncle Jesse's, even down to the quick 360 disguised as an
innocently sudden and vicious neck itch that need to be scratched at just the
right angle to provide coverage for a look around.
He caught Sam's eye as he strode towards the entrance, and for a moment he
paused, as if he was about to stop and say something, but he just gave Sam an
once-over and continued on into the store. The jock sighed again. He had hoped
he'd be the one, but no dice. He stood for a couple minutes more, but was just
about to give up the goat and head home when the same man walked out of the
store again, a six-pack of beer and two bottles of whiskey in his hands.
"Here, kid, help me get this to my car, huh?" he muttered in a deep, gruff
voice as he dumped the six-pack into Sam's arms. Sam gripped the pack with a
surprised look on his face, but followed him to his car.
"Get in," he commanded, as he began to slide into his seat.
"Um, sir, I'm not…I can't just get in your car with you. I don't know who you
are," Sam protested, still holding tightly unto the pack and wondering if he
could make a run for it. The man shot him a "don't even think about it, kid"
look and sighed, sounding annoyed.
"Dean," he grunted, then raised an eyebrow, prompting Sam to tell him his name.
He quickly complied, as it was pretty obvious that this was a dangerous guy.
"Sam Evans, sir, but I still don't know you," Sam dared to add. Both of his
eyebrows rose.
"I'm a police officer, kid, off duty," he added when he saw the blond teen's
skeptical glance at his attire.
"Uh, no offense, sir, but I don't think a police officer would let a minor
drink," Sam pointed out. His brows rose again and he cocked his head back,
staring at the boy under half-closed eyes. There was a challenging look in his
eyes.
"Maybe I was fired. Maybe it wasn't my fault. Maybe I'm just trying to spit in
the face of the people who hurt me, even if it's just giving a fucking can of
beer to a fucking kid. Maybe I just wanna do something so I don't feel like a
fucking pussy*. Now get in the damn car!" his voice got louder with each
sentence, the last one pretty much a shout, and Sam was glad the parking lot
was practically empty.
He got in the damn car.
TBC…
***** Whiskey Kisses *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The Impala rode like a dream, rumbling like a content tiger and heeded Dean's
every command like a faithful dog. She leaped around each corner like a cat on
the hunt, and the dyslexic boy couldn't contain his pleased sigh as he sank
into her leather seats.
Dean shot him an amused yet approving glance, and returned his eyes to the
road, making a quick turn and pulling into the American Family Motel parking
lot.
"This is where you're staying?" Sam asked incredulously. The look Dean gave him
for that comment was annoyed once more.
"I know it's not the Ritz, but that's no reason to turn up your nose-"Here the
teen cut him off hurriedly.
"It's not that! It's just…someone I know stays here…" he muttered, knowing from
Dean's disbelieving look that the man knew he was lying.
"Sure, whatever, kid, just get the beer and let's go," Dean replied with a
quick roll of his eyes. Sam followed obediently, which, he thought as they
walked into the elevator, he found himself doing a lot with this man. Not that
Sam thought himself one of those "rebellious teenagers", but normally he didn't
follow someone around like a lost puppy. However, there was something about
Dean…
"Y'know, kid, I've been thinking, you're right. I shouldn't just be giving you
alcohol like this, even if I drank at you age," he speculatively said as he
closed the room door behind them, turned around, and leaned on it. Sam gave him
a suspicious look. Was this the part when the sadistic psychopath started
laughing insanely over the naïve teenager's stupidity and pulled out a knife?
"Oh, relax, kid, I'm not gonna kill ya!" Dean laughed, having caught the boy's
wary glance,"I just think you should work for it. I mean, that's how I got mine
as a kid*."
"Firstly, it's Sam, not kid! And what kind of work exactly are you thinking
of?" Sam asked as he glanced down, still suspicious, but wondering if the man
might give him money as well as beer for whatever job he had in mind. When Dean
didn't say anything, Sam looked up from the beer still cradled in his arms. His
eyes were immediately drawn to the pretty obvious bump at Dean's groin. The
blond's eyes widened and he began to frantically shake his head.
"Oh no! No, I am NOT doing, doing…that! Not for a million bucks!" he protested.
Dean shook his head, a tiny smile curling his lips and a terribly knowing glint
shining in his green eyes.
"But I'm not offering you a million bucks. What I'm offering you is some booze,
a safe place to stay when you get trashed, and just a little time to lose
control, to let me take the lead. I'm just offering you a choice, Samuel. You
can leave it, walk out that door, go back to your room, and never stop
wondering what might have happened. Or, you can take it, get down on your
knees, suck my dick, and let me take care of you. What will it be, Sam?" the
glint in his eyes grew brighter, and Sam already knew his choice before he made
it. He set down the beer, got down on his hands and knees, and crawled over to
Dean.
"Good boy," the man practically purred as he slid his hands into Sam's hair,
"Now, get started, Sam, and let's see if you can earn your booze," he
commanded, and Sam got to work.
His hands were shaking as he pulled down the zipper on the man's worn jeans.
Then, he cupped the man's balls*, feeling how smooth* and full they were. He
wanted to keep his eyes safely on the balls; he wanted to ignore the giant step
into the unknown that was the erect dick quite literally hanging above his
head. Dean's hands tightened slightly, and he knew he could stall no more.
Sam looked up, his blue eyes meeting the cock already reddening with blood. He
looked up and down it, not sure how to proceed. A dry chuckle sounded above
him, and he looked up to meet Dean's amused eyes.
"You don't know what to do, huh? Well…will you let me show you?" at the teen's
nod, Dean continued, "Okay, but know this, kid, once I start, I ain't gonna
stop. You just gotta trust that I know what you can take and what you can't."
Sam nodded again. For whatever reason, he trusted him, and something told him
Dean had had more than enough blowjobs to know.
The sensations were hard to describe, and that the feelings that went along
with them and got irrevocably twisted with them did nothing to help matters. He
felt the sticky mushroom head slip past his lips into his mouth, weighing
heavily on his tongue, and at the same moment he felt unsure and inexperienced.
He felt the tightly gripping hands in his hair and the warning itching pressure
of the head of Dean's dick touching the back of his throat, meanwhile he felt
vulnerable, but trusting. And when he felt the salty, bittersweet precum
dripping into his mouth and sliding down his constricting throat, and heard
Dean's helpless moans and grunts of pleasure and felt the shaking in the man's
strong thighs, he felt powerful and strong.
Sam couldn't say how long he kneeled there, one hand absentmindedly fondling
the man's balls, the other pulling at his own stiff dick while his puffy lips
stretched tight around Dean's thick cock, and Dean's hums of pleasure filling
the air. Finally, finally, when the building ache in his jaw became pretty
uncomfortable, Dean's hands tightened even more, and he pulled his hips back,
pulling his dick out of the blond boy's mouth with a "pop".
One of Dean's own hands gripped his cock, and he began to furiously stroke it,
his eyes staring straight into Sam's. That seemed the last straw, and with a
long echoing growl/groan that could possibly have been Sam's name, he came, his
cum splattering all over the teen jock's face.
It was weird, a strange feeling, to have someone's spunk on his face. It was
cooler than he expected, and dried surprisingly fast. Of course, he knew both
of those things from frequent...ehem, alone times, as it were, but he never
really stopped to think about actual cum before getting jizzed on his face. He
couldn't resist sliding his tongue out and swiping it on his red lips, pulling
some of the white cum into his mouth with it as he retracted it. Dean groaned.
"Well, kid, I think you definitely earned your booze," his voice was gruff,
and, strangely enough, when he said it in that rough, fucked-out voice, Sam
found he didn't really mind being called "kid". The blond man straightened from
his slumped position and carelessly pushed his jeans completely off of him as
he walked over to the chair and plopped himself down. He patted his lap
encouragingly, but then turned his attention to opening the bottle of whiskey.
It only took a millisecond of consideration before Sam was removing his own
unfastened jeans and boxers before following the man's path and plonking down
on his naked lap.
The bottle was finally uncapped, and for a second Sam wondered if there were
glasses around at all, before Dean simply put the bottle to his mouth and
chugged down a mouthful. Sam watched longingly. The man seemed to notice, and
gave a rough laugh.
"Guess you want your payment now, huh? Alrighty then, open up, sweetheart," his
tone gave Sam a clue that things weren't about to be done the conventional way,
but he just relaxed against the Dean's impressive chest and decided to roll
with it.
Sure enough, he was right, for instead of passing him the bottle, Dean rather
chugged another mouthful before gripping Sam's head and angling it just right
for him to seal their lips together. He channeled the liquor bit by bit into
Sam's waiting mouth, which was probably the only thing that kept him from
choking. The whiskey burned, but somehow, Dean's full lips gently massaging his
own soothed the burn.
So they slowly made progress in drinking the whole bottle, sharing whiskey
kisses*, sucking it off of each other's tongues, and Dean was slowly,
languidly, grinding his dick into Sam's ass. Sam began to feel buzzed, with the
room blurring out of focus, but Dean becoming sharper. Everything felt slightly
hazy, and they may have kissed around the booze for hours, he wasn't sure. He
did notice though, in extreme disappointment, when Dean's voice rasped out that
the whiskey was almost finished.
The thought, as well as his partial inebriation, made his tongue sloppy and his
lips clumsy, so he fumbled his mouth while Dean was making the transfer. Three
thin trails of the alcohol escaped his mouth and slid down his chin and onto
his neck. Dean wasted no time in chasing after them, placing his tongue at the
bottom of each line of liquid and lazily lapping up the trails until he reached
the blond's mouth. There, he suckled noisily on Sam's swollen lips, finally
pulling away with one last wet slurp. Sam sighed and relaxed into him once
more.
He was vaguely aware of being picked up, bridal style, and carried to the only
bed in the motel room. Even the large, calloused hands the divested him of his
shirt failed to alarm him, and he just snuggled up next to the man once he had
also laid down, allowing their naked skin to press against each other. Sam
sighed a bit, and snuffled into Dean's shoulder, enjoying the scent of sweat,
whiskey, leather, gun powder…and pie? He snuggled closer, gave his lips one
more lick, and fell asleep.
TBC…
Chapter End Notes
     Asterisks time!
     *I am not implying that Dean performed sexual favors for his liquor.
     He did, however, work/hunt/train for it, which is what he's referring
     to here.
     *In my mind, Dean would go commando as much as possible, so, well,
     here he is!
     *I also imagine that Dean would do a little man-scaping, so as not to
     freak out the ladies, yeah?
     *I'm actually not sure what "whiskey kisses" are, but this was the
     image that came to my mind when I thought of it. Whew! Can someone go
     buy me a new pair of panties, cuz…Dean…whiskey kiss…Sam…*drools*
***** Good Morning, Honey *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Sam woke up to a hard cock grinding into his ass, and a pair of full lips
sucking what felt like hickey number three on his neck. He groaned, and tried
to turn from his side onto his back, but the man, Dean, was reluctant to be
parted from his ass, so he kept him right as he was, and shoved his dick harder
into Sam's golden globes.
"Mmph, Dean, what…what," he stopped to yawn hugely and stretch out his left leg
till it twitched and trembled at the released stiffness before he could muster
the wits to finish his question, "What are you doing?"
"I'm humping your ass, what does it look like I'm doing?" Dean detached his
lips from the blond boy's neck with a little smack and kept his mouth away just
long enough to rasp out his mocking reply, before he brought his head back down
and started on hickey number four. Sam realized that the man was making a ring
of hickeys around his neck, and groaned at both the questions it would later
bring from his peers and family, as well as the sheer hotness of it.
Just as he had settled down, somehow just knowing that Dean would not take no
for an answer, one of Dean's hands slid from where it was resting possessively
over the jock's abs up to Sam's mouth. He said nothing, just nudged the boy's
mouth, but Sam understood and opened his mouth, lapping at the man's fingers
till they dripped with his saliva.
On his way down, Dean paused for just a second to tweak one of Sam's pebbled
nipples, before he went further, completely bypassing the blond's morning wood
and instead creeping down to his pucker. Dean stroked and rubbed it with spit-
wet fingers, and Sam couldn't control the shiver that danced down his spine. He
had never done this to himself, and had often wondered that it could even be
enjoyable in any way, but the dyslexic boy couldn't deny there was a certain
pleasurable sensuality to Dean's slow, lingering exploration.
Dean moved on to hickey number five, this one right on his Adam's apple. Sam
moaned this time, pushing his head a bit back and further into the pillow,
trying to give his lover more space to work with. Dean gladly took it, finally
allowing Sam to turn onto his back, and attacking his neck with all the
enthusiasm and hunger of a starving vampire. Sam was pretty sure his neck was
gonna be just one big bruise when the man was finished.
Now, Dean's erect prick was being ground down against Sam's own, and the moan
that burst out of his mouth at the sensation was completely uncontainable.
"Now…now, you're not humping my…ass," he finally got out between pleasured
moans. Dean's mouth released its mouthful of neck.
"No, that's because I'm about to fuck you," he countered. Sam stiffened just a
little, before remembering all the other things he had let Dean do, and
realizing that this didn't have to be such a big deal. So far, Dean had been
careful with him and had done nothing to hurt him, it stood to reason that he
would be gentle now.
"Okay," Sam shrugged," but I want more lube that just spit." He wasn't a fool,
he had seen anal porn, granted, it was heterosexual, but still, he knew you had
to be lubricated properly. Dean grunted before reluctantly pulling himself off
of the blond boy and hurrying over to the bottle of whiskey. He grabbed it
quickly and made his way back to the bed.
"Whiskey'll do," he murmured as he grabbed one of Sam's long legs and tossed it
over his shoulder.
"Hmm, okay, but are you really willing to waste whiskey pouring it into my
ass?" Sam couldn't help but ask, one eyebrow raised at the devilish grin Dean
shot him.
"Oh, it's not a waste, sweetheart. When I'm done, I'm gonna suck it all back
out," the grin spread wider on his face at Sam's moan. It grew even wider yet
when he slopped some of the liquid onto his hand and stuck his first knuckle
in. Sam tossed his head back with a groan.
"Mmm, that's right baby," he grunted as he worked his whole finger in," You're
so tight."
"Ahhh, mmm, more lube, uhhh," Sam groaned and moaned as the older blond worked
in another finger. Dean impatiently sloshed some more whiskey on both his hand
and Sam's asshole. Then he worked in finger number three. His fingers spread
again and again, stretching Sam's clinging walls as the boy writhed on the bed.
"Yeah, you're ready for my cock now, aren't you, baby," Dean's voice was
practically all growl as he watched his fingers pump in and out of the grasping
hole.
"Oh yes! Put you cock in me, now!" Sam demanded. Dean pulled his fingers out
and positioned himself.
"As you wish, darling," he rasped as he pushed himself in deep in one go. Sam
thrashed, not sure if he was in pain or pleasure, but sure that he didn't want
it to end. Thankfully, Dean held still, allowing the teen to adjust, but he
still felt every delicious throb.
"Ohhh…I'm so full. Move!" he groaned. The man was only too happy to obey.
He pulled back just a little before pushing back in. He kept up that pace, more
rocking into his ass then actually fucking it. Just when Sam felt adjusted
enough to complain, he began to pick up the pace, pulling farther out and
pushing back in with more force. And so he went, going incrementally harder and
faster, harder and faster, until he was powering in.
And then he hit something. Sam was ashamed to admit he probably squealed, both
is shock and pleasure as a little spot in him was hit. Dean seemed to zero in
on it and pound it mercilessly. Sam keened and wailed, and Dean just kept
jackhammering in and out.
The sound of his balls slapping against the jock's ass was loud, but it didn't
cover Dean's low grunts. He pulled out completely, and when he didn't
immediately thrust back in, Sam gave an impatient whine.
"Yeah, I know you want it, you're a little slut for my cock, aren't you? Don't
worry, I'll give you what you want," Dean whispered filthily in the boy's ear,
causing his to nod and groan. The blond man helped Sam prop himself up on his
hands and knees, using the opportunity to give his ass a good grope. Then, once
he was positioned, he pistoned in with no warning.
Sam couldn't even get a breath to shriek as he kept reaming in, slamming Sam's
prostrate and bruising his hips with a tight hold. All the teen could do was
drop to his elbows and hold on for the ride, because Dean seemed to have no
plans of stopping this time.
Before long, Sam could feel it, tingling in his lower stomach and tightening
his balls. He opened his mouth to warn his partner, but just then, Dean slammed
into his prostrate, and, keeping his cock head pressed against it, grinded into
it with a circular motion of his hips. Sam came with a scream.
He thought he would never stop coming, his dick jerking and spurting load after
load of spunk onto the motel sheets, while his ass clenched tightly around Dean
prick. And just when Sam figured he might finally be done, Dean reached his
climax as well, and came with a shout.
His dick squirted deep inside the teen's hole, making his start and then groan
at the feeling. Finally, Dean seemed to have spent himself, and he pulled out
with a slight "pop". Then he flopped down beside his collapsed partner.
"…So…did you like it?" he panted. Sam, who had just barely mustered the
strength to turn his head to the side so he wouldn't smother himself of the
pillow, could only groan as he tried to gather the energy to reply.
"Gosh, yes! We have to do that again sometime!" he enthused as best as he
could. Dean gave a raspy laugh.
"Do what again? Fuck doggy-style? Yeah, I wanna do you like this again. But I
also want you to ride me, forwards and backwards, cowboy. Think you can handle
it?" he challenged, that knowing glint reappearing in his eyes.
"Forwards and backwards?! I'll be so bowlegged I wouldn't be able to walk!" he
squeaked. Dean laughed again, stretching out a bit before pushing himself up
into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.
"That's the plan, pardner. Now c'mon, we need to get cleaned up." Sam groaned
at his command.
"I'm too tired! You can't possibly expect me to get up after that," the blond
boy whined. The smirk Dean shot him was positively evil.
"No, I suppose I can't. Which is a real shame, seeing as I promised you I'd
suck all the whiskey out of your ass…oh well, some other time, perhaps…" he
trailed off disappointedly, however, almost before he finished, Sam had sprung
out of the bed and was running towards the bathroom.
"Oh…it seems you're not so tired after al-" Sam interrupted his wry comment.
"Shut up! Now get over here and suck my asshole(3)!" he yelled from the
bathroom. Dean chuckled happily as he hurried after his young lover, and
genuine smile blooming across his face.
"Your wish is my command, babe!"
TBC…
Chapter End Notes
     Story Note time!
     (1)I have no idea if whiskey is an appropriate lube, as I've never
     tried it before, but I imagine it would work as well as spit, only
     there's more of it. So yeah, seeing as the weirdest thing I've used
     for lube is hand soap, anybody who has ever used whiskey or some
     other alcohol as lube, please review and tell me how that goes!
     (2)For those of you who have rightly noticed that Sam is out of
     character, there are a couple reasons for that:
     (a) I don't know Sam's character that well, as he's not obviously
     overbearing like Rachel or Kurt (each in their own loveable ways), or
     dumb like Finn, or badass like Puck, or bitchy like Santana. He's
     kinda hard to characterize, so I'm just making him act like how I
     want him to.
     (b)He's just been introduced to the wide, wonderful world of gay sex,
     and he's becoming a bit of a nympho. But with Dean doing his thing,
     can you really blame him?
     And yes, I did switch to numbers. The asterisks were confusing me!
***** Realizations *****
Chapter Notes
     incendiere here: this is my first post on one of MS's fics, so it's a
     bit different, and I decided to go in a slightly different direction.
     Hope none of y'all mind! Also, I suck at formatting, so cheers?
Sam
The second time Sam woke up, there was no warm body pressed up against his.
Instead, he was alone, and, when he finally summoned the required energy to
look around the motel room, the room was empty. Dean was gone.
He wasn't surprised, not really, but it was still disappointing. What had
happened last night, and this morning, hadn't been expected, but Sam knew now
that it was something he had really needed.
Sighing, he got out of bed and found his clothes neatly folded in a pile on a
chair. The very chair, in fact, that he and Dean had sat on, naked. Sam sighed
again, and put on his clothes, before noticing a pile of bills on the table,
and a note.
Hey Kid,
Look, I know it was a douche move to leave you like this, especially since I
know you were a virgin, but I'm not the kinda guy you want. I got too many
scars.
There's enough money to cover the room for last night, as well as tonight, as
check out time has probably passed. If not, then keep the money; I have the
feeling you need it.
Good luck, kid,
Dean
Sam folded up the note, scooped up the money, and walked out of the room.
lll0-----------------------0lll
"Yo! Evans! Dude, I've been calling you! What's up?" Artie called, trying to
hide his concern and annoyance. Sam shook his head, trying to clear his mind of
thoughts of freckled skin and big, strong, scarred hands.
"Oh, sorry, man! I lost my phone yesterday and didn't find it til this morning.
Did something happen?" Sam asked quickly, coming up with a believable lie off
the top of his head. Artie's face smoothed, and he shot Sam a suggestive smirk,
lifting a fist for him to tap. Sam did so with a bemused grin and a quirked
brow.
"Did something happen?! Why don't you tell me, bro? I'm not the one who showed
up with a nice little necklace of hickies!" The smirk on Artie's face grew
bigger, and Sam just barely restrained himself from doing a Picard-worthy
facepalm.
"Damn!" He muttered. Artie's grin dropped, and the handicappable boy raised a
sardonic eyebrow.
"Please tell me you were not actually trying to hide the fact that you finally
got some? Not only would that be totally against guy nature and the guy code,
but you kinda totally did a really, really bad job. Those are totally the same
clothes you wore yesterday. You didn't have time to change?"
"No," Sam grunted, turning to finish collecting the books he needed from his
locker," I didn't, and besides, it's no big deal. It's not like I have a
girlfriend now or anything. It was a one time deal." He knew he sounded a
little too disgruntled for Artie to believe him, but, thankfully, his friend
let it pass.
"Okay, man, whatever. But, next time, you call the Art-meister and tell him
all, you hear?" Artie called after him as he started towards his next class.
"Sure, dude. Later!" Sam tossed back over his shoulder, glad the whole
encounter was over. By lunch, the whole Glee club would know, and by the end of
the period after that, the whole school would, and, hopefully, by the next day,
the buzz would have died down.
Sam heaved one more sigh before walking into his algebra class. He would like
to blame the math, but in reality, his problem had no variables and theorems,
but certainly had charm and big green eyes to spare.
ll0l-------------------ll0l
Dean
It wasn't right, what he did to that kid. Shouldn't have given him booze,
shouldn't have talked to him, shouldn't have let him suck his cock. Definitely
shouldn't have fucked, and then left him. Dean sighed and gripped the wheel
tighter with one hand, the other pinching the bridge of his nose in stressed
aggravation.
The hunt he had been on had gone sour. But even if it hadn't,he would have
still been as inclined to do what he had. Things weren't going good, in the
bigger picture. Dad was dead, and had been for a while now. Sam was settled,
finally rid of the ghost of Lucifer, and moving on with his new girlfriend, a
pretty police officer by the name of Annie Reyes. Bobby was dead. Cas was,
literally, God knows where. And Dean was alone. Well, except for last night.
It wasn't a sign of some buried incestuous feelings that that cute little blond
teen had been called Sam. No, it was really just more comforting, and familiar,
and the two were way too different for any overlap to form. And Dean could use
all the comfort and familiarity he could get. But, a little voice that sounded
like his little brother hissed angrily in his head, Dean couldn't use anyone he
wanted to get that.
"Fuck," he grunted under his breath, and stepped down harder on the gas. There
was a possible werewolf in Redding, Ohio. He'd go check it out.
He purposely didn't think of the rugaru he had been planning on going after in
Eureka, Califonia. So what if this one was closer to Lima, Ohio and closer to
that head of fake blond hair and those shining blue eyes.
No one would have to know.
0lll--------------------lll0
Sam
It'd been two weeks since The One Night Stand, as Sam thought of it, and he was
still in a funk. Any wet dreams that followed were more like memories of that
night, and he couldn't watch any porn without thoughts of Dean doing the same
to him filling his mind. And speaking of porn, he wasn't even watching straight
porn much any more. He only did if the male had close cut blond hair, or bright
green eyes, or freckles, or some combination of those. He was obviously
smitten.
Some people had noticed, and some hadn't; that wasn't surprising, What was was
who had and who hadn't.
At Glee, Santana, and by extention Brittany, Artie, Kurt, and, surprisingly,
Puck, though that may have had something to do with Kurt and Puck getting
together, had all all noticed. Mr. Shue seemed to have an inkling that
something was up, but so far, he hadn't confronted Sam. And finally, the most
surprising of all, was Coach Slyvester. How she found out, Sam really didn't
want to know.
At home, he knew his mom had figured out that he had an unrequited crush, and
his little sister, Stephanie, had given him her old sock monkey, Bobo, to keep
him company. It was a sad state of affairs when your little sister realizes
what a totally mess you are. But even all that wasn't what kept Sam occupied
lately.
During his forays deep into pornland, in search of Dean-look-alikes, he came
upon one such look-alike making out with what had at first looked like a girl,
which had confused him as he was looking at gay porn, but then turned out to be
a pre-op transgender. The sight fascinated him.
The guy, or girl, had obviously been transitioning for a while, and even had
boobs. Aside from the erect little cock poking so stubbornly out of her lacy
panties, no one could have ever realized she had not been born a girl.
Her thighs were round and her hips spread a bit. Her feet were a little long,
yes, but nicely taken care of, with candy pink polish on each neat toenail. She
wore some make up, but not a ton of it, and it was very tastefully done,
highlighting her femininity. Even her clothes, for a porn video, were not
excessively slutty, though this was softcore.
She had on a blue sundress that stopped at the knees, with lacy short sleeves
and a white ribbon right under her bust. Black stockings, white Mary Janes, and
white ribbons in her two ponytails on the side of her head completed the look.
She was amazingly beautiful, but there was something sweet about her as well.
It took about six back-to-back viewings of the video before Sam realized that
he wanted to be exactly like her. It took about six days for him to accept
that, at least a little bit.
0lll--------------------lll0
Dean
After two weeks in Redding, killing off a whole pack of werewolves, Dean had
been hunting around the country for about four months. Now he was at a
crossroads, both mentally and physically. He had no real reason to be anywhere
right now. Well, except that his brother wanted him to be there for the birth
of his nephew.
It's not that Dean didn't want to be there for that, but it was something he
was putting off. It would be the undeniable slap in the face that Sam was gone
for good. Well, he'd still be there for Dean, but already Dean knew the ties
were loosening.
It was no one's fault, least of all Sam's. In fact, it was the natural
progression of things, which had only been delayed by their upbringing. The
hard truth was, siblings grew up, and apart. They got their own lives, their
own families. Their brother or sister was no longer their closest companion,
that title now rightfully belonged to their spouse. The age of living in each
other's pockets was supposed to be over long ago, leaving time to grow
dependent on other people. Unfortunately for Dean, it had finally happened much
too late for him to accept it with the customary grace.
He didn't blame Sam, far from it, but that baby would bring home what Dean
desperately wanted to deny. The glory days of the Winchester Brothers were
finally over.
He started the engine and headed down the road marked "Lima, Ohio, 50 miles".
The only reasons he had for going there were a pair of bright blue eyes and a
heart ready to let go of the past and hold on to the new. There were three
months yet til his nephew's birth, and he'd be there to welcome the little tyke
into this fucked up world, but until then, it was time for Dean Winchester to
take a vacation.
 
TBC
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