#fat!sam

"But ever since you hurt your knee and had to stop jogging," Adam went on, "and then you got that research fellowship with the British - "

"You seriously think I don't know how to stay fit with a desk job?" Sam asked, incredulous. "Adam, I have never in my life had a weight problem, and that hasn't changed."

With a grunt of effort, Sam twisted to face the table. His huge, firm belly, a very recent testament to the nearly non-stop snacking Adam had seen him do at his desk, made it difficult for him to reach the pile of burgers he'd just had delivered, but he managed anyway. Buttons clicked against the wood.

Eyeing Sam's ass where it spilled off the chair, Adam thought about all the late nights he'd seen him have recently, accompanied by soda and pizza to keep him away. Not to mention the gift hampers full of pastries his bosses kept sending for jobs well done... "Uh huh."

"Why don't you go see if Dean wants some of these?" Sam asked (practically demanded), swallowing a bite and waving his half-eaten burger at the rest of the mountain of fast food. "And maybe look in the mirror before accusing me of getting fat."

"Uh," Dean started, and Dad exploded.

"How could you say no to him like that?!"

"What?"

"He asked you for one thing! One! Your time's so goddamn important you couldn't fry a pack or two of bacon for him?"

"That didn't - " Dean tried to protest, but Dad was already pointing out the doorway.

"You go apologize. Right now. And then you're going to the store, and getting your brother two apology cakes. Do not forget the ice cream. Then you can spend the rest of the day on belly duty. Understand?"

Dean sighed. No use fighting. "Yep."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

John shook his head, leaving the room as Dean got slowly out of bed and reached for his shoes. "Be lucky if he doesn't make himself sick crying like that, but if he does - who do you think is cleaning it up?"

Dean gritted his teeth before he could say something he regretted.

"No, his - "

But Dirk was already walking away, heading for the kid whose ass took up half a bench, spilling off the back, all on his own.

"Hey, there," he said, making sure that his voice was loud enough for everybody to hear. "I loved you in Charlotte's Web."

The kid turned, blinking up at him. He hadn't even noticed him coming up, talking animatedly with the four-eyed nerd across the table from him. He had dark, wavy hair and gray eyes, face round and innocent.

"What?" he asked blankly.

"Yeah, yeah." Dirk nodded. "You were Wilbur, right. Y'know." He smirked. "The pig."

The kid stared up at him. Then a flush began to creep across his face, and he started blinking rapidly. "I-I - "

"Sam, hey." The nerd leaned forward. "Ignore him."

"'Sam.'" Dirk rolled the name around in his mouth. "Nah, doesn't really fit. How 'bout...Ham?" He grinned. "Can you oink?"

"W-why are you doing this?" Sam asked shakily. His eyes were wet.

"Why are you five hundred pounds of lard, tubby?" Dirk demanded. "Too much time at the slop trough? C'mon, oink for me."

"Oh, you're gonna - " the nerd started, but Dirk spoke over the top of him.

"Then again, you got a pretty massive pair of milkers on you there, don't you? Maybe you oughta moo." He leaned forward, about to jab Sam directly in the swollen gut. "You got an udder under here? Maybe we oughta - "

A hand landed suddenly on his shoulder, and the breath left him in a rush as it started to squeeze. Pain whipped up his neck and down his arm, and he sucked in a sharp breath to keep from letting out a manly scream of agony. He swore he could feel bones grinding together. The hand pulled him upright, and then a gravelly voice scraped into his ear.

"Go ahead," it said. "Poke him."

"Who the fuck're you?" Dirk gasped out. "His boyfriend? All that blubber turn you - "

The voice chuckled, and the owner of the hand spun him around, smiling down at him. The guy was tall, over six feet. He had green eyes and cocksucker lips Dirk's better judgement stopped him from commenting on.

"Boy, am I glad you said that," the guy commented. "See, if you'd apologized, I would've had to let you off with a couple cracked ribs, but since you didn't...well. It's a lot more fun this way." He cracked his neck.

"Dean, don't - " Sam started to protest. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, ain't like I'm gonna kill him." He formed a fist with his free hand. "All the way."

Dirk was still conscious afterwards. Barely. His nose was definitely broken, after being slammed face-first into the floor, and probably his jaw, too. He'd definitely spit out a few teeth after Dean had socked him in the mouth. His chest really hurt, his stomach from being kicked, his shoulder felt loose and weird, his knee ached from being stomped on, there was a ringing in his ears...

His eyes were rapidly swelling shut, but he could see Dean crouched next to Sam, hear him murmuring to him. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah. I guess."

"You wanna go out for ice cream after school? Yeah, how 'bout it. Your favorite place. My treat."