Bobby wonders how the hell those boys survive as hunters. They’re not particularly subtle.
Sure, they think they’re good. They know to avoid the squeaky floorboards and they make sure both beds look slept in even when only one is. They keep doors locked when they rather Bobby not walk in.
But Bobby isn’t stupid and it’s kind of suspicious when both his boys disappear for an hour or so together, into the yard or upstairs. And he could never miss the way they look at each other, the hands that linger a moment too long.
So Bobby knows, has always known, but he doesn’t say anything. Let them think they’re sneaky, if they want to so damn bad.
Tag: wincest
Jack: Don’t worry. Dean likes your butt and your fancy hair. I know, I read his diary.
Sam: [touches his hair in awe] He thinks it’s fancy?
They love each other in dark motel rooms and truck stop bathrooms; love each other with a look or with a breath or with quiet fingers finding bare skin in a back seat. They love each other like the moon loves the sun, like the forest loves the rain, desperate and dependent and wholly consumed, love each other with steady hands on gun triggers and knife hilts, lives saved so many times the debts stopped being debts and became their souls instead, grown together like scar tissue on the jagged edges of a long forgotten wound, like saplings planted too close together, tangling and accommodating and fusing, twins conjoined at the chest and skull and soul, separation not recommended, survival unlikely.
Brothers shouldn’t – Charlie_Snow (x)
Yes, hello, it is now canon that Dean bought Sam his last lap dance and then hung around and watched him get it because otherwise he wouldn’t know what Sam said to the stripper. So all fic writers who have used that exact trope deserve a big round of applause right now.
Title: A Shadow of What Should Be
Artist: fridayblues
Author: wetsammywinchester
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: None, Stanford angst, hallucinations
Summary: Sam wakes up in a strange bed, a strange apartment, and living in domestic bliss with Dean and a dog named Mothra. Obviously, either he’s lost his mind or all of this is a dream.Art: Live Journal
Story: Ao3
why do we always
get two queens, pretend we won’t
sleep entwined in one?
True Face
Written for @immortalwriter’s Wincest AU challenge. My AU was amnesia, so I had to ask, what if Dean didn’t get better from the witch’s curse but he didn’t get worse? A lot of angst and a desperate little brother, that’s what.
A/N: For @nisaki-chan thanks for your support! And to @soy-em for her thoughts when I got stuck in a giant pool of angst.
Tags: amnesiac!dean, protective!sam, sam pov, attempted sexual assault, mutual masturbation, angst with a happy ending
Pairing: Wincest | Rating: Explicit | Wordcount: 4,947 | Link to AO3
“Sweet ride.”
Sam glanced away from the road to look at Dean’s fingers as they caressed the top of the Impala’s dash. “Yeah, it is.”
“She is,” Dean corrected him. “Cars like this have a soul.”
Sam’s hand tightened on the steering wheel and he gave a small smile. “So I’ve been told.”
Looking back at the road, he waited.
“Can I drive her?” Dean asked, twisting the bracket on his wrist. The shiny metal tag on the jewelry glinted in the late afternoon sun and Sam could see the lettering – DEAN.
“Sorry, Dean, not today.”
He popped in Dad’s old Led Zeppelin IV cassette tape and as the opening chords of Black Dog started, Dean nodded along, drumming his fingers on the black leather.
With Your Dreams Untold
Summary: For the past ten years, Dean has been bookmarking porn on the laptop for Sam to watch. Sam figured it would never go further than that, until one night, not long after killing Hitler, Dean decides to be brave. One thing is for sure: Dean is never going to let Sam live down the fact that porn is what brought them together, in the end. Set between 12×05 & 12×06, but not necessarily a coda. 10k words. Explicit (like, really explicit).
“Can I borrow your laptop, Sam?”
Sam thought he heard Dean’s approach from the hallway, but he just figured he was shuffling to the kitchen for a late-night snack. There’s really no other reason for Dean Winchester to be awake at 12AM, so both Sam and Jody look up in surprise from the research with which they decided to pull an all-nighter.
It’s been a few weeks since Mary left, and there’s no real reason for Jody to be here, but she’s been hanging around a lot more lately. He doesn’t know if he can find the words to express his gratitude for her quiet acceptance, for her presence, for her validation. For her love. The way she reminds him and Dean, without saying a word, of family not ending in blood, that even if their blood mother wants space from them, their ‘mom’ figure for the past seven years (especially since Bobby died, like she just knew they needed some sort of parental figure in their lives, despite knowing how close friends of the Winchesters usually fare in the living category) wants them close without the pressure of needing anything specific from them.
Imagine little Sammy who isn’t quite right. Sam who likes it when other people get hurt. Who watches and smiles and maybe thinks about it when he touches himself, who makes people uncomfortable simply by existing with his cold smile and his dead eyes.
Sammy who goes soft and warm just for his big brother. Who plays a part for Dean because Dean is his, and he knows exactly what Dean wants to see. Sammy who widens his eyes and pretends he’s innocent right up until the moment he asks his brother to hurt someone for him, because there is no line that Dean won’t cross for his little brother and Sam knows.
Sam who plays his big brother like a fucking violin, because he doesn’t like to get his hands dirty, and Dean loves him too much to say no.
Backup bloh 