PART IV: BREAK IT, BUY IT, AND KEEP ON PLAYIN'
They were awakened by a loud noise. They opened their eyes and squinted, blinded by the morning sun. Was that, country music? They jumped and looked at each other, each man's mind screaming No, no, no, no, no, it can't be, can't be!
"Wake up idjits! Breakfast ain't going to make itself."
Sam made a throaty, hiccup-like sound. He looked so dismayed that Dean tried to take his hand to comfort him, but Sam leapt to his feet and started gathering his clothes.
"Bobby's back!" he whispered agitatedly.
"Thank you Captain Obvious. And you wanted to stay downstairs!"
Sam glowered at Dean and tossed a shoe at his head.
"And tonight, get a room!" Bobby shouted; by the sound of his boots they could tell he was walking up the stairs. "I don't want to see your hairy legs spread all over my damn couch every time I come down to get a beer. Are you boys trying to kill me? And does 'you break it, you buy it' ring a bell? I hope it does 'cause you two owe me a new couch and a pair of eyeballs to replace the ones I'm going to gouge out of my skull! Throw in a damn set of ears while you're at it!"
Dean gulped, panic finally settling in his chest. He twisted himself into his jeans and plucked his dirty t-shirt off a lampshade, moaning when the cup of oil spilled onto the floor. "Babe," he whined to Sam, "I can't find my underwear."
Sam stopped and looked at his brother. The word had slipped from his mouth with such ease, he wondered if Dean was even aware he had said it. His heart fluttered in his chest and a tender smile bloomed across his face, erasing the anxiety that hardened his features. Thankfully Dean was too busy to notice how ridiculously pleased he was. Hecrouched next to him to help him look. When Bobby yelled from the upper floor, "Try the bottom of the stairs; idjits!" Sam got up so fast he knocked the empty bottle of beer into the wall with such force that it shattered, sending glass shards all over the living room floor.
The brothers looked at the pair of black boxer-briefs laying by the stairs, the mess around them, and each other faces, in that order.
"We are so screwed" they concluded in chorus.
Bobby smiled and waved the two young men as the Impala pulled out of the salvage yard. When he had returned to his house in the middle of the storm to find the Winchester boys rutting on his couch and making as much of a ruckus as the thunder outside, his first thought after "I should have stayed in Glenwood", had been "took them long enough".
They already bickered like an old married couple and had proven time and time again that they were unable to live without each other. It was only a matter of time until their suspiciously intense relationship took on a physical dimension; if a couch had to be sacrificed in the process, it was a small price to pay.
His kitchen was stock full of beer and liquor. His living-room had been scrubbed clean. The boys had even bought a couch. Well, the sugar daddy whose name was on Dean's credit card had footed the bill. He was actually kidding about the 'break it, buy it' thing, but they felt so bad for scarring him emotionally that he had let them lug a brand-spanking-new couch straight from the showroom into his living room.
He remembered coming downstairs the morning after the storm to find them waiting in the kitchen, expecting him to tear them a new hole. Sam was stuttering apologies, and Dean, even if he looked ready to take a beating, was standing in front of his partner in crime, his limbs rigid, his jaw determined, and his eyes warning: you do what you want with me, but don't you dare make him cry.
He had sat at the table in front of a pile of pancakes and a plate of sausage and eggs. He had coughed to hide a snicker when he realized that they had spiked his coffee with something strong, probably to calm him down, and he had finally burst into laughter, saying, "About damn time you kids got this show on the road!"
He had tossed pancakes onto their empty plates and yelled, "Now sit down and eat, boys! Not another word about this, I'm having enough trouble forgetting the sight Dean's bare ass as it is." before they finally cracked a smile, the relief, gratitude, and love on their faces so heartwarming, he had drained his mug and asked for another cup of "special coffee" just to watch them laugh.
Sam slid close to his brother. He peppered his neck with kisses, chuckling when Dean nearly swerved into the wrong lane. "Watch the road, Hamilton." he smirked.
Dean pinched his lips and gripped the wheel, his knuckles turning white. Oh the devious, sexy little bitch… The things he was going to do to him when he got him alone. "Sammy?"
"Yeah?" Sam slid a hand between Dean's thighs.
"Ever had someone eat food off you? You know like human sushi…"
"Yeah whatever, but with desserts."
"Alright. We'll stop at a bakery, buy a nice pie before we check into the motel. How's that?"
Dean gave him a wide, lusty grin and Sam shook his head, wondering how someone could look so oversexed and so childlike at the same time.
"We'll also get two bottles of almond massage oil." he added. "I'm all out. Happy?"
"Where have you been all my life?"
"Right under your nose. How you ever got laid with those lame pick up lines is a mystery to me."
"It's 'cause I'm handsome; and a joy to be around."
Sam rolled his eyes and he squeezed his brother's bulging erection; it was the quickest way to shut the handsome bastard up. Dean's cock twitched in his palms, dying for attention. It had been five days since the "couch incident". They had stayed a little longer than planned at Bobby's, and decided they were not going to subject him to any more ear splitting sounds and brain shattering imagery. They had limited themselves to making out under their blanket at night like a pair of horny teenagers.
Sam didn't mind playing this game anymore. Especially since everybody won, every time. "Shoot."
"Ever done in the backseat of a car?"
"Ask me again after we park the Impala..."
The tires screeched and Sam jolted in his seat.
"Dean! What, do you think you're doi..?"
"Get your sweet ass in the backseat now, Sam."
"…Why yes sir…" Sam breathed, batting his eyelashes in mock obedience.
Dean smiled. Things were looking way up. He had his car, his other baby ready to get frisky in her back seat, his surrogate's father's blessing, and a case in Illinois. All he had left to do to be at peace with the world was swing by Fort Dodge, Iowa, to leave the sweet old palm reader a fruit basket.
She would probably try to knock him down with a frying pan after mind reading the words he had used to describe her in his desperate hours, but no matter how heated things got, he trusted Sammy and his puppy dog eyes to save the day.
In the meantime, he had a smoking hot babe to initiate to the pleasures of car sex. He climbed over the back seat.
"Ready for me, beloved?"
Sam smiled fondly. He should be giving Dean a hard time for using words only a seventy-plus year old psychic with a flair for the dramatic could get away with, but he knew Dean understood that Sam loved hearing those words just as much as Dean loved saying them.
So he slid his pants down, slowly revealing naked skin unencumbered by underwear, much to Dean's surprised and appreciative eyes, and he pulled his brother by the collar, planting a toe curling kiss on his plumps lips before whispering, "Always, lover."