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There were a lot of reasons to hate witches. Sam could only agree with Dean on that one. But there were also a lot of reasons to hate Dean, something Sam wasn't so sure Dean would agree with him on.
Like right now, on a witch hunt - that should have been easier than making Dean eat pie — resulted in both of them being covered in all sorts of gore.
”Why can't you ever keep your fucking big mouth shut?”, Sam snapped, glaring at Dean - bitchface perfectly in place.
Dean's knuckles were turning white because of how hard he was gripping the steering wheel.
”This is not my fucking fault Sam! Fucking witches! You think I want to sit here, covered in I-don't-even-wanna-know what? And worse — getting it all over my baby's seats?” Dean yelled back, releasing the wheel with his right hand, flailing it towards Sam with a jerky movement.
The movement caused a gob of, whatever-it-was-that-they-were-covered-in, to fly through the air and land on Sam's face with a squelching sound.
”What the fuck Dean! If you hadn't provoked her, maybe she wouldn't have felt the need to show off, covering us in... keep your fucking hand still jerk, you're getting that stuff all over me!” Sam screamed, when little pieces of goo kept flying towards him.
Dean did a last flail with his hand, some more goo landing in Sam's hair, before he let it fall back on the steering wheel.
”Fucking prude”, he muttered under his breath.
”What are you? Twelve? Jerk!” Sam slapped the back of Dean's head.
God, even at the best of times, he didn't know if he wanted to hug or strangle his brother.
”Bitch”, came the expected snarky retort.
Tense and angry silence settled itself over the Impala for the rest of the drive back to the motel. Dean staring out the windshield with a pissed off expression carved onto his face, Sam beside him, trying to get rid of whatever slime had tangled itself in his hair with an equally pissed off expression.
Pulling up to the hotel and entering their room, Sam slammed the door behind him, heading straight for the bathroom, passing Dean who was placing his duffel on the first bed.
”Dibs!”, he yelled, giving Dean a hard shove in the back, making him stumble. He threw his satchel with his laptop on the other bed and practically sprinted into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
He smiled gleefully to himself over his own success. He might have shoved Dean, giving himself a second in advance, but he never underestimated his brother. Dean could be fast when he wanted to be.
Sam shrugged of his jacket and threw it on the floor, it landing with a sticky sound on the tiled floor as he toed his boots off, slime hanging off the soles.
Turning on the shower, he let it warm up as he removed the rest of his clothes and looked in the mirror. Running a big hand over his cheek, chin, to his neck and further down his naked torso. He needed to shave. He didn't like stubble and it didn't look half as good on him as it did on Dean. The ego maniac could really pull that whole 'ruggishly handsome' thing off.
Sam snickered to himself. Dean had been so pretty as a kid, and a long way into his teenage years. His big green eyes, long lashes, freckles and girlish lips had quickly given him some sort of pretty complex. That had resulted in ripped jeans, leather jackets, aviators and smoking cigarettes (until John found out of course), and stubble.
Dean hadn't lost the whole pretty if you asked Sam, but he had still changed a lot. As a kid Sam had adored his beautiful, angelic looking big brother. As an adult, Sam adored his ruggish, masculine and boisterous big brother who had the sense of humour of a 10-year-old, who burped loudly, farted even louder, ate like a pig and hit on everything with a pulse.
Sam studied his reflection a little closer in the mirror. Yeah, a shave would do him good. He needed to do a bit of grooming and trimming all around actually. It had been a long week, hunts overlapping, and too little sleep.
He scrubbed a hand through the thick dark curls surrounding his cock. They were starting to grow just a tad too wild for his own liking, and he reached behind him, running two fingers in between the cleft of his ass. He needed a shave everywhere.
It wasn't like either of them were obsessive about keeping their bodies clean shaven. Sam had been so smooth when he was younger, but the last year or two he had stopped shaving his chest and stopped at keeping his pubic hair really short.
He didn't like everything to just grow wild, but it was nice that his body matched his age and that he didn't look like some little twink with a bare cock and a completely smooth chest.
He shaved his balls though - even if it was a bitch - and he considered himself pretty lucky that he didn't have a lot of hair when it came to other places on his body, where reaching with a razor could be a bit difficult.
But since he liked Dean sucking his balls and freaking loved Dean's face buried in his ass - doing all sorts of amazing things with his tongue and mouth - he did the polite thing and made sure his brother didn't get a mouthful of hair.
Dean, who had never really grown chest hair - something Sam secretly loved, did the same for him. Sam had to admit — no matter how girlish and gay it probably was to trim and groom your body hair, it was really awesome not to get hair in your mouth.
When Sam stepped out of the bathroom - a small towel wrapped around his waist - Dean had removed his dirty clothes, and was sat on his bed in his boxers.
”I hate you”, he grumbled as he got up, and pushing past Sam, slamming the bathroom door behind him.
”Hope you didn't use up all the hot water, sasquatch!”, he yelled from behind the door, making Sam chuckle to himself.
He hadn't. Dean might be a royal pain in the ass, but Sam liked to consider himself the bigger person. Using up all the hot water after a particularly messy hunt was just childish and mean.
He ran the towel over his body and roughly tousled his hair with it. Throwing the towel at one of the chairs standing by a small table, he grabbed his duffel and dug around for clean boxers and a clean t-shirt.
Dressing, he stuck his hand inside his duffel again, looking for his hairbrush. After running it through his hair a couple of times, he settled himself on his bed, closing his eyes. He felt good now, his body relaxed after the shower, and for once they had actually gotten a room where the heater worked.
He took a look around the dingy little motel room. It was in a slightly better shape than they were used to. He wasn't afraid to sleep in the sheets, or walk barefoot on the floor. But it was typical, two queens, a small table with two chairs, a kitchenette, a couch and a TV.
Dean had salted and secured the room while Sam was showering, the tv on and showing some action movie running on mute.
Actually, now that he was laying down, he could feel how exhausted he was, and snuggling into his pillow, he let sleep take over.
***
”Sammy, scoot over.”
Sam blinked, confused. The room was pitch black and it was impossible to see anything.
”Wha?”, he slurred, jerking his head in surprise when he felt moist lips brushing the shell of his ear.
”Scoot Sammy”, Dean whispered, gently pushing at him. Sam grumbled sleepily, but managed to move over so Dean could crawl under the sheets beside him.
”'M tired Dean, not now”, he huffed, when he felt Dean's hand settle itself on the front of his boxers. It was so typical Dean - waking up in the middle of the night, feeling horny and finding his way into Sam's bed to relieve the pressure.
”Come on baby, it's been awhile. I made myself all pretty for you in the shower”, Dean husked, palming Sam's trechorous dick. He groaned at the delicious pressure and started hardening under Dean's skillful movements.
Dean rubbed his hard on against Sam's cotton clad ass and he couldn't help but push back, making Dean shiver and whine.
”Dean, stop it, ”he tried weakly, but was fairly sure he wasnt very convincing — his hips now moving without his consent, pushing back on Dean's cock and forward into Dean's palm.
”C'mon Sammy, let me make you feel good. I'll eat you out?”, Dean offered, and Sam moaned when Dean's sharp teeth nipped at the soft skin where neck and shoulder met.
”Mmmm, okay... do it... eat me out...”, he surrendered, wiggling when he felt Dean pulling down his boxers as he crawled under the sheets, lips and tongue trailing along Sam's spine.
Sam rolled over to his stomach, spread his legs and felt Dean settle himself between them, hands gripping and massaging the globes of his ass, teeth biting at the end of his spine.
”Ohhh...yeah...”, he whimpered, feeling every nerve in his body tingle with anticipation.
Dean's tongue licked his butt cheeks as his big, calloused hands spread him open, and he keened high in his throat when he felt Dean's warm, soft and wet tongue licking around his opening. He pushed back greedily, wanting to feel that strong muscle inside him, but frowned into his pillow when he heard Dean making some kind of spitting noise.
What was that about??
But he forgot quickly when he felt Dean dive back in and lick again.
”Yessss...Dean...more..”, he breathed wantonly, pushing back again, only to get really dissapointed when Dean pulled back abruptly, getting up on his knees, pulling the sheets with him, and off Sam.
”Dean!?! What the hell?”, Sam scrambled a bit to get up on his forearms, so he could look back over his shoulder and see what the fuck was going on.
”Dude”, Dean said indignantly, pulling the sheet off his face, throwing it on the floor.
”You could have at least told me that you didn't bother shaving your ass before I went in face first!”
”What!?!” Sam squawked, but Dean kept talking.
”At least give a guy a warning before he gets a mouthful of hair. Jesus. And you used to be all about trimming your pubic hair like a little girl”, Dean rambled, shaking his head, chuckling a bit at his own joke.
”I DID shave you idiot! What the fuck are you talking about?”
”Like hell you did. If possible I think you grew even more hair than I actually thought you could.”
”What?”, Sam really didn't find Dean's stupid jokes funny. He reached over to the small bedside table and turned on the light.
They both blinked, their eyes trying to adjust to the sudden brightness. When the spots had dissapeared from Sam's vision he turned his upper body, so he could face his brother.
”What the fuck are you talking about”, he asked, exasperated, yelping when Dean grabbed his ass and spread his cheeks, narrowing his eyes to inspect.
”Holy shit”, Dean blurted out as he released Sam's ass as if he had been burned. His face was pale, when his eyes met Sam's and Sam could feel insecurity and a spike of fear growing inside him.
”Wha-what? What's wrong?”, he stammered, voice low and shaky.
”'M not sure that that's normal.” Dean said, eyes wide and serious.
”What's not normal Dean?”, Sam's voice shrill all of a sudden, panic lacing it.
”Erm... your-your hair”, he gestured weakly towards Sam's ass and Sam whirled around - almost knocking Dean off the bed - only to have his eyes settle on his crotch.
”OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!”, he yelled when the sight of dark brown, curly pubic hair became visible.
He had trimmed in the shower and he wasn't really that hairy in the first place. Now he could barely see his own dick - long coarse curls covering every inch of his crotch and then some.
The curls stood up two or three inches from his skin, so thick and wild that it kind of looked like one huge ball of hair.
He sat up slowly and swallowed as he got a better view of his hair growth. The place where thigh met groin was also completely covered in thick hair, and his inner thighs that were normally all smooth, pale skin, were now all curls. He would have to actually move hair out of the way if he wanted to see his balls or cock.
”Shit! Looks like a chimpanzee crawled into your lap and died”, Dean muttered, and hestitantly reached out a shaky hand to touch the monsterous curls. Sam slapped his hand away before he made contact.
”Keep your fucking paws to yourself!”, he snapped.
”Oww. Not my fault bitch.”
They looked at each other angrily for a second. Sam wasn't really as much pissed as he was confused. How the fuck did this happen? He reached down to the floor, grabbed the sheets and covered himself with them. If he had to look at the horror that was his pubic hair for one more second, he would most likely have an hysterical fit.
”You know... that witch...”, Dean started hesitantly, a sheepish look settlling over his face, ”she might have mumbled some mumbo-jumbo after I made fun of her hair.”
”What?”
”But it's probably not the reason. I mean, if that had been a curse, then it would have hit me too, and I...”
Sam watched as Dean froze mid sentence. His eyes locked with Sam's, panic clear in them.
”I'm too scared to look”, he whispered as both their eyes darted towards his boxer clad groin.
”I'm not”, Sam said, and in one fluid movement he reached forward and yanked off the fabric.
Dean screaming in horror - sounding like an adolescent girl - was something Sam Winchester would never forget.
***
Dean punched his phone angrily and threw it on the bed. He scowled at it for a second and then kicked the matress.
”So, what did Bobby say?”, Sam asked, ignoring his brother's antics.
”Stupid, old coot almost choked himself laughing.” Dean grumbled, and Sam had to hide a smirk behind his hand. If he started grinning now, Dean would probably deck him.
They hadn't been able to find anything on the spell that had their hair growing wild. Sam's research skills had mattered all but nothing. Fact was that Dean hadn't heard whatever words the witch had cursed them with, well — he couldn't remember them anyway.
All they had found out was that shaving only made it worse. They found this out after the initial shock when they had shaven all the hair off. Actually, Sam had shaved Dean, cos he had been too shaken to do so himself. It had been kind of kinky, if Sam had to be honest, and watching his brother's dick — totally bare and hairless, had been such a turn on. Dean hadn't been in the mood at all though. On the contrary he had been incredibly grumpy as soon as he saw how Sam pratically drooled over the sight of marble smooth, snow white, hairless skin.
Dean had slapped Sam's hands away before he was even able to stroke that invitingly creamy flesh, called him a pedo-ass, and had all but stomped out of the bathroom, crawled into his bed and tucked the sheets around himself as tightly as possible, turning his back to Sam.
The next morning Sam had woken up by Dean slapping him in the face while yelling and screaming like a maniac. The hair had returned — by ten fold.
So after that they stopped shaving. And stopped leaving the motel room. It turned out that wearing pants was really uncomfortable, and since they were both fans of boxer shorts - and it was now physically impossible to wear them - they opted for going commando in sweatpants and staying in.
They had looked for answers everywhere. Or Sam had searched the internet while Dean bitched and whined. In the end Sam had persuaded Dean into calling Bobby for help. It had taken Dean three days to man up to doing so. After explaining things to a cackling, howling and roaring Bobby, it took another three days before Dean forgave Sam the embarrassing phone call and started talking to him again.
Sam knew he had a reputation for being a whiny little bitch. He didn't actually disagree. What he didn't understand was, how Dean had managed not to have the same...
”So, what did he say? Stop grumbling, and tell me!” Sam demanded. He was seriously getting fed up with Dean's drama queen tendencies.
”What did he say? Well apart from laughing his fucking wrinkly old ass off, and I'm telling you Sam — that was half, if not two thirds of the fucking conversation...”
”Dean! Get to the fucking point already!” Sam snapped. He could totally understand how mortifying talking to Bobby must have been, but if he had to hear Dean bitching about it for one more second...
”You're not gonna like it.”
”I don't like looking like Chewbacca's brother! Just tell me already damn it.”
”Alright alright, don't get ya panties in a bunch. We're suppose to ignore it.”
Sam looked at Dean confused, but it quickly turned to wariness as he watched his brother rub the back of his neck uncomfortably while glancing towards the ceiling. The tips of his ears were bright pink.
”What is the part of 'ignore' that I'm not gonna like Dean?”, he asked, tensely.
”The fucking part where we have to fucking fuck the fucking hair away!”
Sam covered his face with both palms and sighed.
Great!
***
”Can't we like, shave again, and then do it?” Sam asked hopefully.
”No! Bobby said that we had to do it while the hair was where the hair is. Oh, and then we have to make a wish on each others behalf, about it turning back to normal when erm... when ehhh... well, you know — at the end.” Dean explained again, blushing and rubbing the back of his neck again. Sam resisted the urge to throw himself to the floor and kick and scream.
Instead he started pouting. Dean just rolled his eyes.
”Would you stop that? It's not like this is MY fault. Now, you wanna bottom, or should I?”
And that was just fucking unbelievable. Sam spun around, glaring at the obnoxiousness that was his older brother, and for some reason that he couldn't comprehend right now — lover.
”Not your fault? Not YOUR fault!?!” He screeched, getting up only to loom over a sitting Dean, jabbing a long, hard finger into his chest.
”Who the fucks fault is it then? Who the fuck couldn't keep his big blabbering mouth shut? You and your stupid fucking potty mouth,”
”Potty?” Dean frowned.
”Always, ALWAYS gets us into to trouble. You just HAVE to insult every single evil, supernatural motherfucker we run into. It's like a fucking disease with you. Like you have tourettes or some sort of obsessive douchebag compulsive disorder. Why can't you EVER just shut the fuck up!?!” Sam had to stop yelling to catch his breath. He heaved a lung full of air.
Dean just sat dumbfounded and wide eyed looking up at Sam. Huge, round, innocent looking green orbs staring him right in the face. His mind flashed back to when they had been kids, and this exact face had gotten them out of trouble more times than Sam could count.
Dean sucked a plump lower lip in between his teeth and released it, now glistening with spit.
”You're hot when you're angry”, he smiled, giving Sam a long blink — eyelashes fluttering against pale, freckled skin.
”Huh?” Sam grunted, distracted for a moment by that fat, shiny bottom lip - just begging him to bite it.
”Wha? Oh no you don't.” Sam shook himself out of it and decided that that was exactly what Dean needed. So he proceeded to grab hold of Dean's biceps and shook him until Dean's teeth rattled.
”Get off of me gigantor!” Dean snarled, dropping his attempt to charm his way out of getting yelled at.
One strong leg quickly shot out, succeeding in kicking Sam's legs out from under him. Sam went down hard, but he didn't release his iron grip on Dean's biceps, and with a yelp to accompany Sam's own squawk, they both tumbled to the floor.
***
Fifteen minutes later Sam was seated on his knees, butt resting on his calves, between Dean's knees. Dean was on the edge of the bed, and Sam gently poked at Dean's bloody nose. Fortunately it wasn't broken. Sam rubbed a thumb across his brother's cheekbone and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his chin.
”Sorry”, he mumbled, the other hand sliding down Dean's neck to stroke the dip at the base of his throat with a long slender finger.
”S'okay. Forget about it.” Dean sighed, leaning in to Sam's touches and the hand that wasn't currently holding a tissue under his nose, traveling its way into Sam's hair, fingers combing through the long locks. Dean pulled all the strands into a pony tail, securing it with his fist.
”It's so long. You ever gonna cut it?”
An easy, quiet and intimate mood had settled itself over their little room and Dean's voice was nothing more than a deep whisper, caressing Sam inside and out.
”Nah, ” He breathed back, ”I like it like this. Makes me look my age I think. Don't you like it?”
Dean made a small smile and looked down to watch where Sam's hand had now settled on his tummy.
”I like it. But I sometimes miss when it was shorter, and a bit more curly.”
”And you call me a girl”, Sam teased, Dean jgiving a rumbly little chuckle.
”You are a girl Sammy. My girl. You and my baby — it's my life's destiny to be surrounded by gorgeous women.” He gave Sam one of his signature smirks and Sam could do nothing more than lean in and kiss him.
Dean opened up for him immediately and Sam shivered as Dean sucked on the tip of his tongue. He vaguely registered Dean tossing the bloody tissue on the floor, when he felt rough, calloused hands framing his face, holding it at an upturned angle. Sam grabbed Dean's strong thighs, feeling the muscles bulge under well worn sweats, and he pushed Dean's legs further apart, shufling forward on his knees till their bodies were flush against each other.
It was a strange feeling, trying to paw at Dean's erection and not really being able to find it. He could feel all the hair though - and the way Dean's breath became more of a pant - he figured that he was doing something right.
”You bottom”, Sam growled against Dean's mouth, and biting his lip in case he was going to protest.
” Uh huh.” Dean just mewled into his mouth whilst grinding shamelessly against Sam.
In the back of Sam's mind he was very well aware that as soon as they both lost their pants, this stopped being sexy. He was having a seriously hard time imagining all that hair not killing his hard on.
Normally he wouldn't have given a flying fuck about fucking Dean into oblivion even if he hadn't shaved for a month. But again — Dean had never really grown body hair the way Sam had, and that really turned Sam on like nothing else. So the thought of having to struggle his way through a fucking jungle of hair to get to his brother's pretty little pink hole had him groaning in frustration. He couldn't even just close his eyes during the whole thing and think of something else. It was a while ago since Dean had bottomed last and unless he wanted Dean to bleed from other places than his nose - he had to prep him real good. This thought went through his head while he was busy sucking a bruise on Dean's neck and he scrunched up his nose. He really didn't want to get his hands in there. Maybe it was better he bottomed. He did it more often and he could prep himself really quickly.
”Maybe I should bottom”, he mumbled into Dean's collarbone.
Dean pulled back and frowned.
”Why?”
”Ehh... well...I need less prep, you know.” Sam shrugged sheepishly, hoping that Dean wouldn't take offence.
He watched as his brother slid a large hand up to cover his eyes and groan loudly.
”God, this is so not gonna be hot at all”, he moaned behind his hand and Sam could do nothing but agree.
”Maybe we should just get it over with and do it quickly.” Sam suggested while toying with the string in his sweatpants.
Dean looked like he was deep in thought while he nodded absently to Sam's words.
”Yeah”, he agreed slowly.
”Look, what if, cos this is gonna suck, and it's gonna be a bitch and we're gonna hate it, and I don't think...”
”Would you get to the point!” Sam cut him off. This was getting more annoying by the second.
”Relax bitch”, Dean grumbled back, pinching Sam's nipple through his shirt. Sam flinched and slapped his hand away.
”What if, you prep yourself really quickly, and then I put on some kind of blindold on. That way I won't be able to see al the hair, and you won't get embarrassed about all the hair.”
The idea was actually pretty good, if Sam had to be honest, but he kind of wanted to be the one with the blindfold on. Not only because it was a hot thought, but also cos he really didn't want to see any hair. This situation was Dean's fault anyway — he should really be the one who had to look at the hair.
”You prep yourself and I'll put on a blindold.” Sam huffed, and narrowed his eyes at Dean in defiance.
”No, it's bet... I mean easier if you...”
”NO. You prep yourself. I put on a blindfold. End of discussion.” His stubborn streak quickly taking over.
”Why can't..”
”YOU are the one who got us in this mess. YOU prep yourself.”
”Sa..” Dean started, irritation and frustration blazing in his eyes, but just as quickly it was gone and he slumped his shoulders dejectedly.
”Put on a fucking blindfold then. And don't go soft! I'm not sticking my face in there — I'll get smothered before I find your cock, no matter how many inches it is!” And he slammed the bathroom door behind him, but Sam could still hear his angry voice muffled by the door.
Sam laughed a little to himself before getting up and going over to his duffel. He searched through it and found a blue striped tie. He sat down on the bed, scooted up till his back was against the headboard and took of his shirt. He made sure he wasn't able to see a goddamn thing through his blindfold, before wriggling out of his sweats. He had lost his hard on during their argument/planning and he couldn't bring himself to try and touch it.
He scooted down the bed again and rolled around so he was on his stomach, now able to rub against the sheets. He started moving his hips, stuffing a hand under his chest to rub his nipple. He thought back to the time where Dean had slammed him up against the Impala, bent him over the hood and fucked into him after a particularly rough werewolf hunt. Images of Dean on his knees, sucking him off in the bathroom of a diner, where the waitress had flirted shamelessly with Sam. Dean moaning and writhing under him after he came back from Hell. Sam panting and pushing his ass back on Dean's face and tongue after Dean made his crossroad deal.
It was working, soon Sam was whimpering into the pillow, jerking his leaking dick against the bed. He stopped when he heard the door to the bathroom open.
”Roll over”, was the only thing Dean said, his voice sounding deliciously raspy. Sam did as told for once, and kept thinking about all the highlights of his and Dean sexcapades.
The mattress dipped and Sam couldn't help but smile when he felt Dean throw one strong leg over his waist. He didn't settle down, just stayed there, hovering over Sam for a second. Sam could hear him inhale and exhale deeply and then a hand tentatively touched his wild growing pubic hair. Sam had to surpress a little laugh when Dean cursed under his breath, roaming through all the hair before suddenly gripping Sam's weeping cock. He jerked it once, twice and Sam's hips stutttered and jerked. God it was so good.
”Lay still”, Dean ground out between his teeth,and Sam calmed himself as Dean planted a calloused hand on his chest, right above his heart.
”Here we go. Remember to wish me back to normal when you come”, Dean husked, and in one fluid motion he slid down on Sam's dick, Sam crying out as wet, tight, scorching heat incased his throbbing erection.
It was a weird feeling when Dean started undulating his ass carefully. Hair was scratching Sam's thighs and belly when Dean leaned forward, capturing his mouth in a deep kiss as he lifted his ass up and slammed back down.
Sam met him half way and risked grabbing Dean's thighs in a bone crushing grip, helping to lift his weight.
”This fucking tickles”, Dean panted, giving a kittenish cry as Sam planted his feet on the bed, nd roughly fucked up into him.
”Come on”, Sam gritted, sweat pouring off him, setting a brutal pace now he had better leverage. Dean kept making these amazing whimpers and cries as Sam pounded his prostate, and Sam felt him snake his hand in between them to jerk himself off.
For some obscure reason, the tickling sensation that all the hair provided felt really good, and Sam could feel heat pool in his groin, his balls now painfully taught and he was almost there.
He felt his way up Dean's sweat slick body, findig a hard nipple and rolling it between his fingers, pulling it and pinching it.
Dean gave a high pitched keen, and Sam growled as Dean's hole tightend around him - on the verge of painful - and his hips shook and jerked when splashes of Dean's come landed on his stomach. He slammed into his now limp and mewling brother two more times, biting down hard on Dean's shoulder when he came and wished.
***
”I'm sleeping in my own bed”, Dean proclaimed as he rolled off Sam, ”and dibs on the shower”.
Sam hadn't even had time to take of his blindfold before the bathroom door closed. He huffed and tore of the blindfold, blinking at the sudden light. God, he really hoped that this would work. He would kill himself if Dean's mood didn't lighten up real soon.
***
Sam blinked when sunlight hit him in the face. He scrubbed his face with a large palm and stretched and yawned.
Then he remembered that the hair was suppose to be gone and he was almost scared as he stuck a hand under the sheets, into his sweats and palmed his morning erection. No hair. Well, some of course. But in the completely normal way. He couldn't help but grin widely, as his fingers wandered down to stroke over smooth balls and lower yet to silky, puckered skin. Yes, everything was the way it was suppose to be now.
He slid out of bed, shimmied out of his sweats, got rid of his t-shirt and sauntered into the bathroom, naked as the day he was born.
He pushed at the door, but didn't bother closing it all the way, took a piss, washed his hand and began brushing his teeth.
”Sam?”, Dean's voice filtered through the air and he spat his mouthful of minty foam into the sink.
”Yeah?”, he answered, opening the bathroom door and taking a step out to see what Dean wanted.
”You fucker!”, Dean roared as soon as Sam entered the room. Sam backed a few steps till his back hit the frame of the bathroom door, Dean stalking towards him, eyes furious, one finger pointed at him.
”Wha?”, Sam managed to squeak out before Dean tore away the t-shirt he had been holding in front of his groin.
And there it was - Dean Winchester's cock - in all its pride and glory, completely hairless.
Sam made a choking sound as arousal - and Dean's fist - slammed into him at the same time.