Fic: Just Ask (Sam/Dean, R)

[smalltrolven]

Title: Just Ask
Author: smalltrolven
Giftee: lady_simoriah
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Explicit
Any warnings: None
Author's Note: Not my characters, only my words. Written for the 2021 spn-springfling for lady_simoriah I used the prompt " You're my knight in shining white...socks." Takes place after episode 15.13.

Summary: Asking the question is sometimes the hardest part

Read it over on AO3 right here.

*****
It’s when the Richie Rich versions of themselves are holding down the fort and they’re out in the real world doing their job that Sam realizes, this might be his chance. Normally, he’d never ask this of his brother, not wanting to upset the balance they’ve finally landed on. They’re together, for good, which was always what Sam had wanted and needed. He finally has it, no thanks to Chuck, it’s all them. It’s been a battle getting here with his brother, and he’s happier than he’d ever imagined.

There’s something about having those two fancied-up versions of themselves in their home, it’s triggered a long suppressed desire, not exactly a need. More of a wish that occasionally comes into his mind and leaves without Sam ever acting on it. He’d once tried it with Jess, and it had been an absolute disaster inviting Brady into their bedroom. Looking back, it probably was when Brady had been possessed by Azazel’s minion. Yet another demon he’s slept with, add it to the list. The thing is, he doesn’t know if asking for what he maybe kind of wants will screw up what he has. Dean is the most jealous person he knows (besides himself) and there’s also the bottomless pit of insecurity they both fall into. Asking the question might cause fractures where Sam doesn’t want any. But it might also be…good.

As they drive through the night heading back home, Sam considers his options. Bring up the idea in a general way and hope Dean makes the connection. Be a little sneakier and carry on about how the alternative Dean looks or acts, see what his Dean does. Or just be honest, tell him that he wants to ask the Richesters for a foursome.

He watches Dean, tries to judge the mood he's in by what tape he’s listening to, how squinched-up his eyes are, the last clue is whether his shoulders are tense or not. Sam scoots over a little and gets his hands on both of Dean’s shoulders, massaging for a few moments. Dean’s pretty loose at first touch, and then relaxes to the point that Sam briefly worries about their safety at eighty miles an hour.

“Feels good, thanks, Sammy,” Dean says when Sam sits back and removes his hands, Dean’s smile flashing white in the dashboard lights.

Sam’s left hand goes back to its usual spot on the back of Dean’s neck, massaging and then going still as he prepares to ask. “What do you think of the other Sam?”

“He doesn’t wear socks and his hands are too damn soft.”

“I noticed the socks thing, weird. How would you know that about his hands?” Sam asks, stomach sinking as he considers the possibilities.

“He…uh, came on to me, right before we left. Think he’s got it bad for his brother, and they haven’t gone there like us. Guess he figured I’d be a second best option.”

“What’d you tell him?”

Dean turns to look at Sam, the surprise plain on his face. “Dude, I’m telling you aren’t I? I said no to him, told him I’m already taken.”

Sam’s hand briefly tightens again on the back of Dean’s neck, this time in reassurance to both of them. “Aww, my knight in shining white tube socks.”

“The alternative me, he didn’t pull the same move?”

“No, Dean Richester’s still trying to keep their dad’s approval.”

“Kinda like me, huh?”

“No, not at all. But their dad was still around, unlike ours.”

“I think Richester wants it, but won’t admit it to himself, just like I did back then. I just couldn’t bring myself to…” Dean trails off.

“That’s all in the past, it wasn’t time for us yet.”

Dean drives for a while, fiddles with controls on the dash, rearranges his jacket, clenches and unclenches his hands on the wheel. Sam sighs to himself, waiting for the rest of whatever Dean is thinking to come out of him. It usually does if Sam lets him have the space.

“You and me, we’re okay now, right?”

Sam’s heart clenches with a little sadness at the way Dean has to even voice this question. He’s never been able to get Dean to really accept that he’s in this with Dean for good. “Yeah, I think we’re more than okay.” He scoots over and lays his head on Dean’s shoulder, lets his hand land softly on Dean’s thigh. “When the other Sam asked you, did you—?”

“Think about saying yes to him,” Dean interrupts. “For about a second I did, he sounded so sad, and it was kind of you, but not you, and I—“

“Always try to give me what I’m asking for,” Sam interrupts, “yeah, believe me, I know. One of the things about you that I…uh count on.”

Dean’s hand comes off the steering wheel and covers the one Sam has on his thigh. It rests there, the connection between them sparking and nearly visible to Sam in the dark. He wishes he could see that for real someday.

“Would you want me to, do that for him, or uh…with him?”

“If you wanted to, yeah. He’s a version of me, so he’s going to want you, whatever universe he’s in. But to be honest, I wouldn’t mind being there for it, if you do that with him,” Sam says in a rush. He gulps, worrying that he’s said too much, revealed the thing he’s never voiced.

“Oh really,” Dean drawls out in that over-exaggerated leer of his that makes Sam laugh instead of cringe now that he knows what it means. “Sammy wants a threesome, oooh.”

“I mean, you have before, right?”

“Not with two men, nope. How about you?”

“Only once, in college,” Sam answers, trying to leave it vague.

“Was it Jess and one of her sorority sisters?” Dean guesses with that familiar leer coloring the words.

“She wasn’t in a sorority, and it was my roommate, Brady,” Sam says, really regretting that much honesty. “It didn’t go well.”

“Dude was a demon, what do you expect?”

At least he doesn’t say one of the many other things that would bring up Ruby and all that. Sam’s grateful that they’ve maybe moved past it, finally. “I wouldn’t mind though, being with you and the other Sam. But only if you were into it too.”

“What about if the other Dean joined in too?”

“Would he though, since he’s so hung up on the dad issue?”

“We should probably at least invite him, be polite or whatever.”

“We should ask the other me how he feels about that, it might be going too far. And also to see if he’ll be okay with me—“

“Fucking his brains out?” Dean interrupts with a lusty laugh. “Fuck yeah, I need to see that! Dude would be an absolute idiot to say no!”

Sam backhands him in the chest and moves back on his side of the bench seat. He pulls his hands away from being tangled up with Dean while he continues to laugh.

Dean finally notices and stops, Sam watches as he tries to pull himself back from laughing some more. “What, too accurate, or am I way off base?”

“The first,” Sam says through clenched teeth.

“You want to fuck your own brains out, who doesn’t, it’s normal if you ask me.”

“You’d want to…do that if the other Dean was into it?”

“Hell yeah, it’d be amazing,” Dean says, smiling to himself as he no doubt pictures it in gory detail.

Sam stares out the windshield and feels the green monster he tries to keep on leash uncoil deep in his belly.

“Dude, this better not be a jealousy thing…wait—is it? Because if we did this, it’s basically us doing us. And anyway they’re not…he’s not who I want.”

“Same here, just so we’re clear,” Sam says, taking in a relieved breath, suddenly grateful and oddly moved.

Something familiar passes over Dean’s face, Dean’s relieved too. That makes whatever this conversation was or whatever happens with the Richesters worth it to Sam. He’s pretty easy to please these days. Not that he has lower standards, just that he treasures the good stuff when it happens. That’s how things have changed. If this had come up, back when they’d first gotten together in the months after Dad had died, it would have blown them apart. Things happen for a reason, universes slip apart and barf out your dopplegangers. Sam can’t help it, laughing to himself at that image.

“What?”

Sam snaps out of it and looks at him, the only person in this universe or any other that truly knows him. “Just thinking that the things happen for a reason trope is true. The universe slipped apart at the seams and barfed out our dopplegangers.”

“Then why the hell not take advantage of the situation we find ourselves in?”

“If the shoe fits, when in Rome, all of that, yeah.”

“What if the shoes don’t fit though? And we maybe don’t want to go to Rome?”

“Meaning?” Sam asks, worrying that Dean’s just been going along with all of this to please him, like just about every other time he’s asked for something.

“What if—they don’t leave afterwards, if they want to stick around?”

“Dude, we’re good, but we’re not that good. I don’t think they’d want to stay. Would it be a problem if they did?”

“I don’t want to sound freakishly jealous or whatever here, but—“ Dean starts and then cuts himself off.

Sam’s guessing he’s feeling hesitant at being so honest. “I’m not going to like them more or run off with them or something. Whatever it is you’re thinking, that’s not going to happen, you’re stuck with me.”

“Would you be mad if I just said no about trying any of this at all?”

“No, but I’d want to know why, since you sounded so interested a couple minutes ago.”

The turn signal goes on instead of Dean answering, which is its own kind of answer, Sam supposes. He prepares himself for whatever comes next, he may have screwed them up just by bringing up the subject, just like he’d feared. Dean pulls them into a turnout that’s mostly hidden from the road by trees that blot out the headlights of the passing cars. He turns the car off and sits, unnaturally still with his hands on the steering wheel. Sam’s about to break the tension when Dean gets out of the car and stomps around to the passenger door.

Dean yanks the door open, and Sam’s still getting his seatbelt off, trying to stumble out quickly. Dean’s hands are on him, bringing him close and hard, into one of those tight hugs that Sam secretly treasures. He hugs Dean back just as hard, lifting him up onto his toes, so that he can nose down into the warmth where Dean’s neck and shoulder meet. His lips brush against the soft skin there, and he’s suddenly overrun with that rush of possession, biting down and sucking hard as Dean squirms against him. Dean’s breath turns into a steady panting, harsh against Sam’s ears, and he’s aware of how hard they both are. He barely realizes it but he’s practically growling the word, mine, as he marks Dean.

One of Dean’s hands is between them, palming him through his jeans, undoing his fly and taking him out in the cool night air. Pulling him in that familiar rhythm that makes Sam’s knees practically buckle. He can’t stop it, the pleasure puts everything else on mute, and he lets himself fall over the edge his brother is bringing him to. Crying out Dean’s name as he comes, hot and hard, spilling against his brother’s jeans. Sam slowly returns to himself, running his hand over the dark marks, pressing them into the fabric, hoping they soak into Dean’s skin.

Dean stands up tall and tugs him down with both of his arms around Sam’s neck. He kisses Sam, deep and hard, with this raw urgency that leaves Sam breathless. Dean’s mumbling something, Sam can’t catch it until Dean’s lips are at his throat, his teeth sinking in and then the suction starts. He hears it over and over again as Dean marks him—mine. Sam feels a shiver through his whole body, and feels himself try to harden again. He can’t so he slides down the front of Dean to a kneeling position, holding on to his hips and looking up at him, silhouetted against the starry sky.

Dean’s hands flutter for a moment and land in his hair, stroking through its length and tugging at the ends. Sam groans and nuzzles at Dean, gently biting over the wet spots on his jeans where he’s already left his mark. He holds on to his brother’s hips and breathes him in for a long moment, rubbing his cheek against where Dean’s hardest. He can hear a quickly indrawn breath of anticipation above him. In the next moment he’s got Dean’s jeans undone, licking at the very tip of him, soft and teasing.

“Don’t tease, Sammy, c’mon,” Dean implores, hand cupping the back of his head and guiding him closer.

Sam licks the length of him, slow and steady, several times, drawing out the waiting as long as he can stand to, but finally he takes Dean in as far as he can manage. Dean moans something unintelligible above him, his hand tightening on the back of Sam’s head. Sam opens and takes him even deeper, swallowing over and over as he sucks as hard as possible. Keeping that steady rhythm that he knows Dean needs.

Dean pauses his shallow thrusts, body going rigid under Sam’s hands as he comes. Sam sits back on his heels to take it on his face. His eyes closed, his other senses are compensating. He hears the astonished intake of breath as Dean sees, senses the feeling of fingers pressing into the mess left on Sam’s cheeks, the bitter taste as it’s fed into his mouth, the smell salty earth and all Dean. He opens his eyes and meets Dean’s up above him, too far away. Dean reaches down and scoops him up, bringing them together in another one of those hugs that Sam suddenly realizes is something he needs much more often.

“I need this, more of this,” Sam says, hugging him back.

“More roadside BJ’s, really?” Dean asks with a chuckle, tightening his arms around Sam’s shoulders.

Sam pulls back a little so he can see Dean in the moonlight and shakes his head.

“Wish we were at home right now,” Dean says.

“Why?”

“So I could hug you like this in front of the Richesters, point at the mark on your neck, growl mine at them and get them to leave us the hell alone.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sam says.