Fic: Vegas Kimon (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Part 2 of 5

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The miles slipped by and Sam kept on quietly reading his game theory papers, the tablet screen glowing in the dark car, Dean wondered for the millionth time how he had ended up with such a nerd for a brother, well at least he was a cute nerd. That part definitely went unsaid, except for in the private conversations he had with himself while he drove.

Dean knew he was staring, but Sam looked so good like this, relaxed, but still engaged, that twinkle in his eyes as he took in new information, his hair curling softly around his ears and resting on the nape of his neck.

“Cut it out, eyes on the road,” Sam said out of the side of his mouth, eyes not moving from his tablet screen.

Dean cleared his throat and shifted his focus back to the road. Sam’s peripheral vision was kind of scary. He wondered if it would be a help to him in the rock-paper-scissors tournament.

“Hey, any of those papers have anything to say about freakish peripheral vision being helpful in winning rock-paper-scissors?”

Sam made a sound somewhere between a giggle and a hmph, so yeah probably was the answer he wouldn’t be hearing.

“Well, someone ought to study that, might be some money in it,” Dean observed.

“You actually think that’s some kind of compliment don’t you,” Sam said in his snarkiest tone.

Dean grinned wide and sudden, loving that Sam took it that way.

“Can we stop in Denver?” Sam asked. “Or do we need to get to Vegas tonight?”

“Don’t need to be in Vegas until Saturday, we have a few days booked in the hotel before the tournament starts. But yeah, I was kind of planning on getting through most of the city and staying on the westside of Denver,” Dean said. “It’ll probably be at least an hour depending on how bad rush hour is this time.”

“Oh god, I remember that—what was it, two hours stuck on the freeway in the winter when that freak storm blew through?” Sam asked, laughing at the memory.

“That was some nasty driving, and it was a bad time for the heater not to be working.” Dean remembered how they’d driven with the blanket around their shoulders, Sam right next to him warm and snug and there. It’d been maddening and wonderful and he’d wished it would never end.

Sam shivered at the memory. “Well, no worry about being cold this time, one good thing about doing this trip in July.”

“You going to be researching the whole way there?” Dean asked.

“Why, you feeling underprepared?” Sam countered with that annoying tease still in his voice.

“You have no idea how prepared I am. I’ve been studying up for this for months. Go ahead, ask me anything about rock-paper-scissors around the world, I know it all.”

“How’s that going to help you in the tournament?” Sam asked, now in full-on little-brother snark mode.

“Well, it’s an international tournament, Sam. That means there’ll be people there who have played different versions, might have the different techniques I’ve learned about.”

“Well, Dean, that assumes that you beat me in our first round, now doesn’t it?”

“May the best man win, is all I’m going to say about that,” Dean said.

“Tell me some of this international info, that isn’t on the Wikipedia page since I already read that,” Sam said.

“Well, there’s this online version of the game, where you play against an AI bot thing. And it’s good, it learns how you play the game, and it has all the game theory stuff programmed into it. There was an organized effort by some of the RPS players to beat the thing, show it who’s boss, right? And the only guy that could do it was this one Asian dude, he was top of the leaderboard. Turns out he was using a bot to make his choices for him. So it ended up being computer versus computer. That was the only way to fool the thing and have a chance to win.”

“You really did study this stuff, it’s kind of amazing what you can learn when you set your mind to it,” Sam said, all dripping with patronizing smarm.

“Oh my brother, I learned plenty, but the hottest thing ever was the strip version,” Dean said.

Sam reacted, but not in the way Dean had expected. Instead of shifting around, uneasy with any sexual innuendo in his usual prissy way, this time Sam’s leg found its way back onto his side of the seat, knee almost pressing into his thigh again. Dean widened his own stance a bit and smiled when at the first brush of contact, Sam’s knee pressed firmly and unmistakably into him. He wasn’t sure what it meant, and Sam was back to reading again, so he let himself enjoy the contact as he drove.

Dean found them a motel once they’d gotten through most of Denver, it had an attached diner which would make things easier. They ate some burgers and kept talking about rock paper scissors and game theory, and Dean could hardly stand how good it felt to tangle their feet together under the table in the small booth, Sam smiling and engaged and relaxed. He smiled back at Sam, full to bursting with the small pleasure of just being  with his brother.

“What’s got you grinning like a fool?” Sam asked, smiling around his milkshake straw.

Dean watched Sam fish around in his tall glass for the remainder of his milkshake, not answering, just taking it in, Sam whole and right here with him.

“You’re acting so strange, you must be going out tonight then?” Sam asked.

Dean came back to himself enough to answer, “No, I’m staying in.”

“But you’re acting so antsy, usually that means you’re heading out to a bar trying to score.”

“Nah, I gotta conserve my mojo for the tournament.”

“You really think having a one-night stand, or drinking or whatever is going to affect your performance in the tournament?”

“I do, yeah. Besides, I thought I was going to show you the strip version of RPS when we get back to our room.”

Sam inhaled as he drank the last of his milkshake, sending him into a coughing fit. He was red-faced and couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes on his way out of the diner. It was a strange night after that, both of them fidgety, pretending to watch whatever dumb action movie they’d landed on, but really they were watching each other. Dean chalked it up to Sam missing being at home and acting as Chief to all those strangers.

****

After another long day in the car, they finally arrived in Vegas, valet parked the car and found the registration table to one side of the hotel lobby. Behind the white table-clothed table was a man wearing a t-shirt with the tournament logo and a tired smile. He shuffled a large pile of envelopes as they approached.

“Hey there, we’re here to check in for the tournament,” Dean said.

“Hi, I’m Henry Lethorn, we’ve probably been corresponding online. And you are?” Henry said, extending a hand to shake. Dean was surprised that Henry was wearing what looked to be a weight-lifting glove.

“Les Braunstein, glad to meet ya,” Dean said, pumping Henry’s hand enthusiastically. He could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes as he heard the alias, yeah Blue Oyster Cult again. So sue him, they’d had the ID’s out recently, so it was easy to get his hands on both of them when he’d made the online reservation.

Henry let go of his hand and shuffled through the pile of envelopes, pulling one out and opening it up.

“Ah, here we go, Les Braunstein and his plus one, and also entered in the competition, well now that’s interesting…your husband, Andrew Winters. Here are your name badges, please wear them around your necks at all times when at the tournament, your free drink coupons, the updated schedule and your assigned tournament slot times. Any questions?”

“Is it really that unusual, that a married couple is entered in the tournament?” Dean asked.

Henry looked them both up and down very slowly, like he was cataloguing all their sins both real and imagined. “It is now, after what happened last year, yes. I think it was two divorces and one break-up total, so in our experience couples do not do well competing against each other. But I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

“Guess we’ll just have to keep being rock solid then, huh, babe?” Dean joked, pulling Sam in close to him with an arm around his brother’s waist. Sam came willingly, almost surprising Dean with how much he pressed up against him, how much weight of his weight he let Dean take. Dean decided to push it a little further since Henry was still giving them a mild stink eye. He leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to Sam’s cheek.

Sam turned and brushed his lips against Dean’s, his arm pulling Dean in close. Sam murmured against his lips, “What are you doing?”

“Just go with it, Andrew,” Dean said, relieved when Sam finally let him go.

“Oh I’m going with it, Les,” Sam said, kissing him with intention this time, slow and steady, his lips moved, sucking Dean’s into his with a small nipping bite at the end. Dean couldn’t help shivering as he pulled away from Sam reluctantly. Reluctantly, wait…what?

“I wish you good luck, both of you. Hope you won’t end up split-up like the last couples that tried this,” Henry said, waving them away from the table so that the next people could take their place.

After they’d gotten out of sight of the registration table, Sam pulled Dean aside and caged him against one of the alcoves behind a potted palm. Dean looked up at his brother, blotting out all the light from the hotel lobby, shoulders impossibly wide, face incredibly angry and confused.

“What are you playing at, Les?” Sam practically spat down into Dean’s face.

“It’s like any other case, Andrew, you didn’t need to do all that. Why are you being like this?” Dean asked, completely confused at Sam’s overreaction to the married ruse they’d used so many times before.

“Like what, like telling them that we’re married? You’re the one that chose to go with that story. And who, in twelve hours of being on the road, failed to mention that little detail so I could be prepared.”

“It got us a better deal on the tournament registration fee. Don’t know why they kept the couples discount if it was breaking people up and causing divorces, but when I saw it, I thought it could save us some bucks. That way I could spend more on the hotel room. Let’s go check in, huh?”

“Just give me more warning next time, okay?” Sam asked, face returning to normal, the storm of frustration passing, thankfully.

The ride up to their room was quiet but it too a long time as their room was on one of the top floors of the hotel. The door was enormous and heavy, as Dean shut it behind them, he couldn’t miss Sam’s gasp.

“You weren’t kidding about spending more on the hotel room,” Sam said with an open-mouthed grin.

“Nothing but the best for my man,” Dean said, staying in character, even though they were alone, because why the hell not at this point. He spread his arms wide and spun around a few times in the enormous room. He opened the patio doors wide and let in the heat and noise of the city. The water of the rooftop lap-pool sparkled in the sunset.

“Thanks, Les, you’re the best,” Sam said with a laugh as he stood in the doorway with him admiring the pool.

“That’s what good husbands do, right, Andrew?” Dean said with a tease in his voice he hoped sounded jokey enough to cover up how much he meant it. In a lot of ways that’s how he thought of them now, an old married couple that did for each other like they were supposed to. He wondered if Sam thought of them like that too.

“I’m going to order us some dinner and get in the pool,” Sam said after a few moments, answering Dean’s unasked question.

He spaced out as he heard Sam’s low tones on the phone with room service, still standing against the patio door, eyes mesmerized by the sparkling water. Dean imagined that this was what they always had, that he was able to give this to Sam all the time, and in a legit way, too. His brother deserved it, he wished he was able to give all the luxury in the world to him.

Sam bumped his hip into Dean’s as he passed him in the doorway. Dean came back to the real-world and wondered if he’d gone to heaven and hadn’t remembered dying (this time at least). Sam’s wide shoulders and tiny waist were bare, all that beautiful skin on display, his shapely ass and thighs covered in tight blue swim trunks. Sam dove into the pool, slicing through the water, and coming up with a splash and a laugh as Dean jumped out of the way. He flipped onto his back and looked up at Dean, “C’mon in, the water’s fine.”

Dean couldn’t speak, he felt frozen by an all-too familiar flood of desire, he had to push it away, had to control himself. He couldn’t let himself give in to the insane impulse to strip all his clothes off and jump in the water with Sam, push him up against the tiles and press their wet bodies together and oh god—no he couldn’t. Dean turned away and stalked into the bathroom, and tried and failed not to slam the door. He stood in front of the full-length mirror, saw how obvious his desire and lust was, how his jeans stood out in a shameful tent, how the fabric was dark where he’d been leaking just watching his brother swim. He growled and took himself out, shoving his jeans and boxers down past his hips. He took himself in hand, rough at first, then licking his palm, but it dried off too fast. He pumped some of the complimentary hotel lotion into his palm and slicked himself up.

Watching himself in the mirror, he imagined that Sam could see all this, that he wanted to, that he told Dean to go faster, to touch himself, all over his chest, pinching at his nipples, to tug gently at the hair around his cock as he kept slowly stroking it. He could practically hear Sam’s growl as he told him to fondle his balls, to get some more lotion and finger himself, challenging him to get as many inside himself as possible. To make himself ready for Sam’s giant—

A knock at the door, Sam’s voice, “You okay in there, Dean? Food’s here, come eat with me?”

At the sound of his brother’s voice saying his name and the word come, Dean did, he couldn’t help it, he unloaded all over the mirror, watching his shame drip down the shiny surface, he pulled himself back together, tucking himself back in, being harsh and rough with himself like he deserved. He yanked it all back in and shoved it down where it belonged, down in the dark, where no one could ever know, could ever find it to use against him, where Sam could never see how he really thought—

“Dean?” Sam asked again, the door opening just a crack.

“Yeah, coming, hold your horses,” Dean said. “Just washing up.”

Sam shut the door, and Dean leaned against the marble sink, trying not to see himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. He cleaned the mirror off as well as he could with Kleenex, but it was pretty smeary, Sam would notice. But he’d blame it on bad cleaners, which was totally rude, but he had to keep this shit locked up.

When he made it out of the bathroom, Sam had already eaten his salad and was back in the pool. Dean ate his lukewarm burger at the poolside table and tried his best not to stare at Sam too much. The sun had gone down and the lights of the city below shone up through the glass-bottomed pool, highlighting just how stunningly beautiful his brother’s body really was.

“You’re not ever going to get out of there, are you?” Dean asked, finishing off the Del Sol beer his brother had thoughtfully ordered for him. The whole burger had been perfect, extra onions, crispy bacon, just enough blue cheese. Sam really knew his favorites, it brought to mind the whole old-married couple thing again, and Dean felt himself blushing. Good thing it was fairly dark out here.

Sam swam to the edge of the pool, his arms crossed, biceps popped, huge and looked up at him. “This really is an amazing pool, are you gonna come in or what?”

“Maybe later, I’m going to go downstairs, gamble a little, that kind of thing,” Dean said, standing up and looking off the edge of the balcony to the Vegas strip all lit up below them. He could feel his brother’s eyes on him and knew that this was him chickening out. Dean knew that if he got in that pool, he couldn’t pretend well enough to fool Sam, he couldn’t do it for even one minute. If he got in there with Sam, he’d lose it all, and it wouldn’t just be some tournament, it’d be everything.

“Well, I’m staying in,” Sam said with a small pout that could have been pretend, Dean couldn’t really tell. Dean watched as Sam did a few more laps and then rested, floating on the pool’s surface, then doing more laps. It was too hard to sit and watch Sam swim, his beautiful body cutting through the water, all lit up with the lights of Vegas below. He changed into his going-out jeans, the ones that he knew fit the best and his favorite red over shirt. He said goodbye from the door, but Sam probably didn’t hear him. It was probably better that way.

Part 3