Samâs been keeping a secret.Â
Round and cool on his tongue, a rolled metallic that tastes biting for the first few weeks. He keeps his mouth shut, and for a thousand miles, nobody gives a shit about the silence. Summer vacation ends, the Winchesters settle into a new rental, and Sam clinks the bead against the inside of his teeth when he smiles.
Rebellion comes in small forms. Samâs tried running away, heâs tried fighting back. Heâs gone throat-hoarse with the things heâs had to say about the way theyâre being raised. Nothing worksâbut this? The one-needle procedure in the living room of the last townâs best friend for the month is Samâs favorite form of rebellion yet.Â
Itâs past the point of hurting by the time it ever gets noticed. Sam likes feeling it against his teeth, the roof of his mouth; just having it is a comfort that he sometimes forgets.
Dean cracks a joke leaning against the Impala, beer between his fingers and breath coming out mist-warm in the winter chill. Itâs a few weeks until his big brotherâs twenty-first birthday, but he can handle a drink better than he handles a gun, and he handles a gun really goddamn well.
Sam throws his head back to laugh, mouth split glee-open, and Dean curses loud.
âHoly shit,â he says, âlemme see your tongue.â
A beer and a half is enough for Sam to comply, cheeks rosy and warm. He leans in close and sticks out his tongue, cheeks dimpling at the stunned look on his brotherâs face.
âSammy, whenâd you do this?â
Sam wipes off his spit-sloppy lower lip and clicks his teeth shut. The bead clinks against the back of them. âMmm, like, six months ago?â he answers, swaying a bit on his feet. âLooks good, right?â
Deanâs silent for a moment, brows furrowed. Sam settles against the hood, ass half-hanging off, and watches his brother step closer. âLemme see it again?â
Sam opens his mouth again, sticks out his tongue again. He flicks the bead against his upper lip and huffs out a beer-sour giggle at Deanâs jaw-dropped expression.
Then Deanâs fingers press down against his tongueâforefinger and middle, trapping the bead between them. Sam stops laughing, starts looking up at his big brother through his bangs. His throat feels warm.
âShit,â Dean hisses out, and Sam drops his mouth open a little wider, âthatâs so fuckinâ sexy.â
Samâs lips close around thick big brother fingers, tongue lathes across the salty pads of them. Dean stares at him like heâs never seen anything better. He fucks his fingers into Samâs mouth like itâs meant to be there, and Samâs not going to protest.
When Deanâs fingers slip away, Samâs eyes are low-lidded, lips shiny and wet. Dean closes in, trapping him against the hood of the car.
âHeard itâs great for blowjobs,â Sam whispers. Dean looks fucking wrecked. Sam presses his fingertips against his brotherâs jaw, lets Dean chase him until heâs leaning back on his palm and their lips are too-close. âWanna test that?â
Deanâs next curse comes with a kiss, and Sam clinks the bead against his brotherâs teeth.
