Sam looks at the Lebron wristband Dean holds out in one hand while keeping his attention on the road. Takes it sluggishly and complains nonetheless.
“Blood doesn’t come out of these easy.”
“Just press it.”
The scratch on the right side of his neck continues to ooze blood but they’re just glad the jugular isn’t nicked.
“So what did it?”
Sam doesn’t answer. Controls a grimace as the car hits a bump despite Dean’s best efforts to drive smoothly. Dean glances at him once before turning back to the road. There is a frown on his face but he doesn’t know how to translate it to words. He still tries.
Sam is grateful for the change in conversation and goes with it. “I still don’t know how much of it’s real with these people. The whole David Copperfield flying and Ferrari floating routine? Got to be a catch.”
“Yeah well I don’t know what keeps him and Claudia Schiffer together. There’s a mystery if there ever was one.”
Sam smiles, and Dean feels mildly victorious.
They didn’t know going in that the spirit had latched itself onto every single piece of equipment ever used in his magic tricks when the guy was alive. Dean smirks, he probably thinks it’s pretty cool but Sam just shakes his head.
“Just hope they paid their premiums on time.”
“You know… this Hector guy, he was one smart sonofabitch.”
“How do you mean?”
“Reading our minds? Figuring out our worst fears? First it splits us up, and then sends these… specters of our worst nightmares after us.”
“Well, he was an illusionist. And a ghost.”
“Yeah. Man that was so seriously fucked up.”
Sam snorts as he looks at his big brother. “Leatherface?”
Dean makes that face of his when he’s totally freaked out. “That guy is for real! There really was this family that went nuts during the depression? And this guy used to wear his dead mom’s skin on his face and…”
“It's just an urban legend inspired by the movie Dean. It's not real.”
Sam is still smirking in amusement, but Dean pretends to not buy it. Actually, he really doesn’t.
“Yeah well, I won’t be surprised if it was true. Ghosts I get. People… they’re just crazy.”
“But there were two illusions right? There was something else before chainsaw guy wasn’t it?”
Dean refuses to even look at him this time. Sam sits up straighter already anticipating a huge laugh at the expense of his big brother.
“Was that what I think it was?”
“Let it go Sammy.”
Sam sniggers. “Dude! A Llama?”
John’s attention had been diverted toward Sam only for a minute and if a tour guide hadn’t caught the beast in time, Dean probably would have… been… knocked down on his butt or something.
Sam grips his sides hard, to hell with the pain, he laughs anyway.
“Yeah and apparently, still do you big baby!”
“Oh you’re one to laugh! I saw the clown joyfully bounding after you down the staircase.”
Sam stops laughing and makes his appalled face.
“Clowns are creepy and you know that. Its even recognized in the dictionary.”
“Yeah? And what’s it called - clownophobia?”
“Noooooo – coulrophobia.”
Dean stares at him a whole second trying to decide if he was serious… then they both burst out cackling again.
“Whatever you say geekboy.”
Sam has his eyes closed.
“When the illusion changed… what did you see after the clown?”
Dean winces in sympathy for his little brother… this is the hardest part of their lives, someone is always inevitably getting hurt. Quickly takes out the first aid kit and sits beside Sam on the bed. He pulls off his hoodie first, then tugs the pale green shirt out of his jeans and unbuttons it. There are a couple of angry red bruises on one side, possibly fractures causing the pain. He checks the punctures in his neck again but they have stopped bleeding so he turns his attention back to his chest.
It hurts but Dean helps him, kissing his brother’s lips… swallowing his agonizing whimpers desperately.
“Shhh, its okay Sammy.”
Sam doesn’t want the kiss to be over but Dean has work to do. He cautiously pulls off the shirt so it is left hanging from the other arm. Cuts five long strips of adhesive tape and wraps the bruised ribs from his sternum to the spine in the back. Then helps Sam lie down on his back and kisses him again, this time lingering longer. He folds Sam’s left arm over his chest to further restrict movement and rubs soothing circles into the elbow.
“Hold it there okay? Don’t make me tape it down.”
Dean shakes his head genuinely exasperated. As far as he’s concerned, Sammy never needs to thank him for anything.
And that’s a demand Dean is not strong enough to deny. He stretches out beside Sam careful not to crush him and closes his mouth over Sam’s. He savors the shapely red lips, laving and bruising them until they’re deliciously plump. He licks the walls of Sam’s mouth, his teeth and his gums and evades the tongue so desperately seeking out to mate with his. At last Sam crooks his head up and takes control, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in the depths of his brother’s luscious mouth. They kiss until its impossible to carry on without breathing and Dean shifts to planting little kisses on the sides of Sam’s mouth, the cute depressions in his cheeks. Knows how much Sam loves to be scratched behind his ears and does exactly that, anything to make his pain melt into the background, long enough for the medication to start its work.
Dean picks up a fresh swab of cotton and dabs at the wound on one side of Sam’s neck. Pressing two fingers there, he lowers his mouth on the other side, right at the joint where neck meets shoulder. Sam moans in complete abandon. Dean knows this is a major erogenous zone for Sam and is hot-wired straight down to his groin. Sam whimpers, his right hand’s fingers shaking as they entangle themselves in Dean’s dark blonde hair.
Yeah yeah, Sam remembers. But he’s too far gone to care for anything else except the talented mouth luxuriously lapping at the column of his neck from jugular to chin and back. When Dean pauses to nibble at his young Adam’s apple Sam starts to writhe. His legs fall apart on their own and his erection strains against the captivity of his denim jeans. Dean returns to his pulse point and bites down with an indulgence he spares only for Sam. Grinds his teeth into the spot long enough to leave a nice looking territorial mark of ownership but not enough to make him bleed.
“No… keep going…”
“Shhh Sammy. Broken ribs get jostled they hurt like a bitch.”
Sam pouts, giving his brother his sleepy but still very effective puppy dog look that never fails. Dean smoothes the hair back from his forehead and kisses him there. Not enough. Sam yanks at one of Dean’s hands listlessly and no words are needed to let Dean know what he wants.
Dean sighs giving up, then puts his hand on top of the bulge in Sam’s jeans and fondles lovingly until Sam’s eyes roll back in his head and he bucks up, hurting but not regretting it.
“Be still Sammy.”
“Arrgh! You t-try being still when… ahh… I’m… jacking the je… je… ah Jesus! out of you!”
Dean bites back a chuckle as he pulls the zipper down and takes Sam into his hands. Rests his head on his collarbone mostly just to make his squirming stop. It’s the thumb pressing down on his swollen head that triggers fireworks behind the closed eyelids and Sam is pleading for mercy.
“Shhh… almost there…”
Sam wonders how Dean always knows just where to touch him in a way that raises every hair at the back of his neck and makes every nerve ending in his body tingle with delight. Dean’s hands are warm and confident, teasing yet generous and goddamnit everywhere.
Several firm strokes later, Sam comes with a loud holler that jars his entire system with returning pain.
Sam manages a smile and a nod, but he’s exhausted. Dean wipes his hands off on some tissues nearby and tugs off the jeans and boxers off Sam’s mile long legs. Covers him with blankets, using one from his bed as well to keep Sam as comfortably warm as possible. Dean folds the sleeves of his shirt as he stands up. Looks down at Sam’s drooping eyes and decides to take the plunge. Maybe Sam would be relaxed enough now.
“That’s a nasty fall you took there kiddo. This thing throw you against the wall?”
Dean had seen the tiny grits of cement sticking to Sam’s hoodie earlier. Sam swallows, then nods.
“How did it get so close?”
“Sam, why didn’t you shoot it?”
A/N: Holy Mother, I'm going to hell... Pls let me know what you think?
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