Chapter Text
The way Dean arched his back would make a porn star green with envy.
Sam barely had time to set their half empty bottle of lube on the bedside stand before his big brother - and lover - was writhing, grinding against the cock buried to the hilt inside him.
Not that Sam had any problem giving him what he wanted; their mother would be coming by in just under two weeks now, staying for an undetermined amount of time, and she still didn't know her little boys were sleeping together in the most unbrotherly of ways. Which of course meant sleeping in separate beds, stealing secret kisses in passing, and no sex; it was just too risky considering their mom had hunter’s instincts - she'd pick up on the squeaking of a bed when her boys were supposed to be sleeping in a heartbeat.
So they were getting their fill as much as they could. Two weeks off from the job, spending hours in each other’s arms, having relatively romantic dinners, just generally hoping they could satisfy their need to be more than brothers, at least a little, before she showed.
Dean's body jerked when Sam nudged his prostate, his arms giving out. He splayed them out, nudging the bedside stand and burying his face in the pillow, shouting in pleasure.
Sam groaned, sliding his hands down Dean's smooth, freckled back as his hips pistoned, chasing their orgasms.
Dean came first; he lost it the moment Sam took his aching cock in hand and gave it a few firm strokes, spilling over the bed and his stomach with a groan of Sam's name.
As he came he clenched around Sam, his hole fluttering with the pulse of his climax. Sam gasped at the sudden tightness, the fingers of his free hand biting into Dean's hip.
He continued to fuck into him as hard as he could, working Dean through his orgasm. His hips slammed forward, the wet slap of skin and creak of the bed sounding downright naughty in the otherwise silent bunker.
"Oh fuck, Dean," Sam managed to pant before he stiffened, buried as deep as he could get. His cock pulsed and jerked as he came, and Dean's cock gave a final twitch and dribble of come as Sam filled him.
Sam collapsed over Dean's still arched back, panting against his shoulder.
"You're welcome," Dean grunted, earning a weak punch to the ribs.
"You came too," Sam breathed, kissing along Dean's back.
"Because you were pounding the hell out of my spot."
"Only cause my cock couldn't go anywhere else. Your asshole is still so fucking tight I'm shocked I can get into you."
Dean laughed then. "Gotta keep it tight for my baby brother don't I? I know how much you like that virgin feeling," he teased.
Sam nipped his shoulder blade. "Behave or I'll fuck you again."
"You say that like I'd be opposed."
Sam rolled his hips, his still half hard cock grinding directly against Dean's prostate. He jerked and moaned, gasping.
"Okay, yeah, too much. I'm opposed."
"Thought so."
Sam pulled out slowly and kissed Dean’s shoulder. “I’ll grab something to drink.”
Dean smiled up at him. “Thanks, Sammy.”
Sam swung his feet off the edge of the bed and stood up. He only took one step before his bare foot stepped in the sticky, slick lube from the bottle Dean had knocked off when he hit the bedside stand. His foot went out from under him and he went down hard, reaching out to brace himself with his right hand.
First it was a terrible crunching noise and then pain. Sam shouted in shock and agony, flopping flat on the floor and grabbing his forearm.
Dean shot up. “Sam!”
He hopped out of the bed and crouched next to Sam.
“Shit, are you okay?”
Sam groaned, his face a mask of pain.
“My wrist again.”
“Can you move it?”
“I fucked it up, Dean – shit.” He groaned again and looked down, his wrist swelling up. Despite the swelling, he could see part of it at a very disturbing angle.
“Hospital.” Dean said quickly. He stood and went to grab their clothes quickly, mindful of the lube.
Dean helped Sam into his shirt, wincing whenever Sam would cry out in pain. “How many times you busted up this arm, huh?” He teased, trying to make Sam smile.
“Three times,” Sam panted. “At least, three times that I got it fixed by a doctor – who knows how many fractures it has that they don’t know about.”
Dean pulled Sam up, tossing his old shirt over the lube. “Taken out by lube, I can’t believe that.”
“Yeah, neither will the doctors,” Sam grumbled.
**
And they didn’t. Well, they may have believed him, but after the third nurse or hospital tech walked away snickering under their breath, Sam was done.
“Shoulda just put an ice pack on it,” Sam grumped, still holding his arm lightly. Dean reached out, running his hand over Sam’s back in a way that was supposed to be comforting.
“I can’t fix a broken wrist, Sam. Plus, the doc seems pretty worried considering you’ve broken it before. Twice.”
“First two times weren’t my fault,” Sam muttered, glaring daggers at the floor.
“Just, try to relax, huh?”
“This is ridiculous, Dean. Just make ‘em gimme a cast and I’ll be fine.”
“Let them x-ray your arm, Sammy. I’m right here. We’ll go out for ice cream after if you’re a good boy,” He teased and Sam’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re a dick.”
“I know.” Dean leaned forward, pressing his lips to Sam’s gently and quickly.
Sam slumped back on the bed.
“This is stupid,” He commented again.
“What is?”
“Everything. Stupid lube, stupid hospital, stupid wreaths. Who the hell puts up Christmas wreaths in emergency room spaces? No one is in the Christmas spirit when they’re in excruciating pain.”
Dean laughed a little at how childish his brother sounded, noticing for the first time the small wreaths circling the upper half of the room, tied together with red and gold ribbon.
“They’re kinda cute,” He tried, shrugging.
“They’re stupid,” Sam muttered, groaning when he moved his arm closer to his body.
**
Sam was brought to x-rays shortly, and didn’t look all that pleased when he returned.
‘It’s fucked,’ He mouthed to Dean. The nurse got him settled in and gently placed his wrist on an ice pack before hurrying out to get the doctor.
“What do you mean?” Dean asked when she was gone.
“My wrist is totaled. I saw the x-rays; it looks shattered in at least three or four places. I’m gonna need surgery – man, this is gonna put me out of hunting for months.”
Dean gave Sam a confused look. “That’s what you’re worried about?”
“It’s our job.”
“It’s just a job, Sam. You can still do research and I can go gank things.”
“No. Not a chance. You aren’t going out there alone, especially with that reaper so damn eager to take our souls.”
“Oh come on, Sam. I’ll be fine.”
Sam grabbed Dean’s wrist with his good hand. “No.”
Dean smiled weakly. “Okay, fine, fine. We’ll figure it out after we hear what the doctor says.”
Sam leaned into Dean’s chest, grimacing whenever he attempted to shift his sore wrist.
“Hey, Sam,” The doctor said warmly when he came in.
Sam looked at him tiredly. “Glad I’m not dying – you guys must be busy,” He commented, no anger in his voice.
“We are a bit short staffed. Sorry about that. I looked over your x-rays and it does look like surgery is going to be required to fix up the fracture.”
Sam nodded. “I figured. So when do we do it?”
“Three days from now is the earliest we can get you in if you don’t want another opinion; a lot of people do. We can put you in a splint with painkillers and have you come back for your appointment. You can stay overnight to make sure it doesn’t get worse, but I don’t know how good your insurance is since it’s not necessary.”
Sam shook his head. “No, I’ll go home.”
“Sam, you don’t wanna screw it up worse,” Dean argued.
“But I want to sleep in our home. You know I hate hospitals, De.”
The doctor smiled a little and glanced at the chart. “Are you brothers?” He wondered aloud.
Dean looked up, a little surprised; normally they were assumed to be lovers. He opened his mouth, unsure what to say.
“My boyfriend,” Sam filled in. “Been together for years.”
“I’m so sorry. You two argue like brothers.”
Sam shrugged a little. “We get that a lot. So, you wanna make that appointment for me?”
The doctor nodded. “Of course, I’ll be right back.”
He ducked out and Dean raised his eyebrows. “We’re boyfriends now?”
“Did you want me to say brothers?” Sam hissed.
“We normally do.”
Sam scowled a little, surprised that Dean seemed to have a problem with this. “I—I’m sorry? I didn’t think you’d mind is all.” He shrugged, looking down.
“It’s fine,” Dean said softly, but Sam still felt like something was bugging him.
**
“I want to get home.” Sam complained, the pain medication from the hospital making him a little sleepy and a lot whiny.
“Just give me fifteen minutes, okay?”
Sam sighed and nodded, slumping down into the seat further. “Don’t know what you need at the store at midnight.”
“Something I realized I needed at the last minute. I’ll be quick.”
Sam watched Dean duck out of the car and jog inside before his eyes slipped shut with exhaustion.
**
When Sam awoke, he was warm and cozy under the blankets covering his and Dean’s bed. He was alone, but that wasn’t a surprise; Dean often rose in the night and wandered around or went to read – sleep never came easy for hunters after all.
He’d almost forgotten the broken wrist until he attempted to wipe his face down with his right hand and screamed in pain as a result.
Dean had to have been close; as soon as Sam screamed he was busting inside, out of breath and ready to attack.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothin’, sorry – I moved my arm too quick,” Sam muttered, cradling the arm close to his body again.
Dean sighed softly, relaxing a little. “Need more meds?”
“I’m okay.”
He crossed the distance between them and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I got you something.”
“What?” Sam muttered, leaning his head so he was brushing Dean’s thigh.
Dean reached down and picked up a small bag from the floor. He held it out to Sam, who grabbed it with his good hand and opened it, shooting Dean a death glare.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Now you won’t slip on lube again,” Dean explained, reaching in and pulling out the pair of bright red and green striped socks. They were fluffy and furry with small rubber grips in the shape of Christmas wreaths.
“You know you’re an ass.”
“I did it because I care,” He shot back, opening the socks and pulling the blankets away from Sam’s legs.
“Are you really gonna—Dean!”
Sam began to kick and wiggle his legs, laughing as Dean tickled the soles of his bare feet.
“Stop!”
Dean grinned but complied. Instead he tugged on the socks.
“See? Warm and cozy.”
“I can see that you’re a dick.” Sam said, rolling his eyes with a smile.