Title: Bad Ideas...
Fandom: Pairing: Supernatural: Sam/Dean
Words: 200 + 100 + 200
Concrit: Please, and if you spot a typo, feel free to tell me in comments. I want you to!
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Warnings/Squicks: Non-graphic fraternal incest
Summary: Wherein Dean accepts a bet he can't lose, Sam accepts an offer that Dean should never have made, and Dean pays the price for underestimating a peri-pubescent girl.
Notes: Written for slashthedrabble prompt #163 'Bad Idea' and for three prompts on my Supernatural Big Damn Table.
Failing To Set Proper Parameters (BDT #001 Finger)
When Sam had come up with the bet, Dean had laughed. Loudly. For several minutes.
It wasn't that Dean didn't think Sam could do it, had done it, probably more than once, on some easily impressed young thing at college, but that was different. Dean Winchester was made of stronger stuff. He'd been around a wide variety of blocks and had done more things - and had more things done to him - than Sam could ever imagine. He grinned.
"You've got yourself a deal, Sammy." Dean picked up the cuffs and lay back, threading them through the metalwork of the headboard before snapping them closed around his wrists. "You win and you can choose the music all the way to Missouri. Hell, you can choose the music all the way to the coast."
"It helps if you're naked, Dean."
Dean's laugh was evil.
"It might help you, smartass, but what about me? I like my tapes. Why would I want to give up Metallica and Maiden for… what? Moby? Madonna? Mariah Carey?"
"You said you could bring me off using one finger, Sammy. You didn't say anything about me being naked. So what are you waiting for, genius?"
Using Motivator.com as a Distraction (BDT #029 Motivated)
"What the hell was that back there?"
Dean shrugged, and a badly suppressed smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth.
"You looked like you needed some motivation to get those knots undone."
"And you thought offering to blow me once we got back to the motel was a good idea?"
"It worked, didn't it?"
"We were in a bar full of redneck demons, Dean. You almost got us lynched."
"They were just jealous. Did you see-?"
"Shut up and drive. You owe me a blowjob and I want to collect before you manage to get us into more trouble."
Under-Estimating Peri-Pubescent Pique (BDT #041 Mute)
It would wear off in twenty-four hours, Bobby had promised him. Promised them both. It was just a temporary curse; a five second snatch of syllables designed to prevent someone else from completing a chant, or an exorcism. It would probably work on someone singing Manilow too.
Pretty ingenious, really, though Dean hadn’t seemed too impressed when Sam had pointed that out, not if his hand signals were anything to go by.
"You know, I used to have a dream that went something like this. Oh, not the whole 'Spelled mute by a twelve year old girl using her grandma's magic books' thing, but you, unable to talk, and at my mercy? Yeah, I used to have that one a lot back when we were kids. Of course, that was before I found out how much fun it was, seeing how loud I could make you yell when you come."
Sam went down laughing under Dean's silent pounce, landing on the thin motel mattress with a huff.
"Twenty-four hours without you telling me to shut up, change the channel, fetch you quarters for the Magic Fingers. Twenty-four hours with no interru-"
Dean's tongue in Sam's mouth proved him happily wrong.