Hangovers and Morning Discussions - SPN
Jun. 19th, 2016 10:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mayalaenTitle: Hangovers and Morning Discussions
Pairing: None/Genfic
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG/Young Adult/Non-Explicit
Word Count: 2.8k
Alternate Link: AO3
Full List of Kinks and/or Warnings:spanking, discipline, no sex, crying, preseris
Setting: Season 4
Summary: Sam’s concerned about Dean’s drinking. Dean doesn’t think it’s a problem. Sam does.
A/N: Another fic that’s been sitting in my folder for a long time. I wrote it in Season 4 around the time Dean’s drinking got to be noticeable.
Dean quickly became aware of two things as he floated up from unconsciousness. First was that his head was going to explode soon. The second was that it was too damn bright in the room.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” Sam said from the bed opposite him.
Dean groaned as he squinted at Sam. “Dude, close the fucking curtains. Hurts,” he demanded in a gravelly voice as he turned over and pulled the blankets up over his head.
Sam let out a sigh, then Dean felt the bed dip behind him as his brother sat down on it. “It’s time to wake up. I want to talk to you,” Sam informed him as he wrapped his hand around Dean’s right shoulder and shook him gently.
“Fuck off,” Dean replied as he pulled out of his brother’s grip.
“It’s not going to work this time, Dean. I want to talk to you,” Sam said firmly.
Dean’s hands bunched into fists that he knew he wouldn’t use on against his brother. “Sleep,” he grumbled.
“Turn over, man,” Sam said, saying it with much more patience than Dean thought Sam would have by now.
“Go away,” Dean said, hoping that his brother would just give up like he normally did when he felt in the mood to talk.
“Not leaving,” Sam sing-songed.
“If you know what’s good for you, you will,” Dean sing-songed back. Sam then started to pull the blankets down. Dean grabbed for them, but he was still too clumsy between the wicked hangover and just waking up to be quicker than Sam.
“Sit up against the headboard,” Sam instructed when he had pulled the blankets down to Dean’s waist.
Dean let out a loud growl of frustration as he shakily sat up, then pulled himself backward to sit against the head of the bed. He then looked down. “Why the fuck am I only wearing my shorts?” he asked as he looked up at Sam with one eyebrow raised.
“You don’t remember anything that happened last night, do you?” Sam asked.
“Yes, I do,” Dean said defensively.
Sam snorted. “Okay, tell me what happened last night,” he requested.
Dean let out a big, put-upon sigh, rolled his eyes for added effect, and said, “I went to the bar down the street, played pool, got pleasantly drunk, then came back here to crash.”
The scowl on Sam’s face let Dean know that a little more went on than that. “Close, but you forgot the part about someone knocking on the motel door at three in the morning,” Sam grumbled.
“Okay, I’m sorry I woke you up,” Dean said, sounding less sorry and more annoyed than anything.
“Oh, it wasn’t you that woke me up. It was the two guys holding you up between them that woke me up,” Sam informed Dean. Dean opened his mouth, but Sam cut him off. “And the reason why you aren’t wearing your clothes is that I didn’t make it to the bathroom in time, and you threw up all over us both,” Sam said with a raised eyebrow.
Dean winced at that, feeling guilty enough that he actually looked down at the blankets. “I guess I had a little bit more than I thought I did, huh?” Dean asked with a sheepish grin as he looked up at his brother.
“This isn’t funny, and we are going to talk about this whether you like it or not,” Sam said.
Dean felt like rolling his eyes, but figured that his brother’s mood wouldn’t improve with it one bit. “Look, I’m sorry about the whole throwing-up-on-you thing, and it won’t happen again, but there’s nothing to talk about, so let me sleep the rest of this off, and then we’ll hit the road,” Dean said as he started to scoot down under the covers once again.
“No,” Sam growled loudly enough that Dean forgot what he was doing and looked up at Sam again. “I’ve put a lot of thought into this. What you’re doing is dangerous and hurting both of us. I am not going to let you ignore this anymore,” Sam said with a look on his face that said Dean wasn’t going to get away with it this time.
Dean’s eyes widened. Sam looked very serious. Usually he would have been able to get Sam to back off by now, but Sam obviously wasn’t backing off.
Sam’s shoulders sagged a little. “I know you’re still reeling from Dad’s death,” Sam said in a softer voice, and Dean tried hard to ignore the prickle at the backs of his eyes at those words. “I am, too. But what you’re doing isn’t going to solve anything.”
Dean looked away. Why did this all still hurt so badly? Why did Sam have to keep bringing up the subject of Dad?
“What would Dad do?” Sam asked.
“Oh, that’s low, Sam,” Dean said with a scowl as he looked to Sam.
“No, I’m serious. Do you remember what happened the first time you came home drunk?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.
A bit of a shock ran through Dean’s body as he remembered, then his eyes widened as realization hit of just what Sam was getting at. Dean shook his head. “No,” he said simply but firmly.
“It worked wonders on you. You never pulled this kind of shit around Dad after that, did you?” Sam asked.
Dean quickly looked away. He might be able to lie like a professional to anybody else, but Sam would see through it any day of the week.
Sam let out a squawk as his eyes widened. “You did it again?” he asked, obviously quite surprised.
Dean winced as he looked up at his brother again. “While you were away at college, Dad and I were on a hunt. I fucked up, got another hunter hurt, felt sorry for myself, and came back to the motel pretty messed up,” Dean explained.
“What did Dad--?”
“He spanked me, okay?” Dean interrupted irritably. “I was twenty-three, and I got my ass beat by my father the next morning,” Dean said miserably as he wrapped his arms around his stomach.
Sam seemed to take a moment to absorb that information. He wasn’t laughing or smiling, for which Dean was grateful. He felt like a big enough jerk as it was. He did not need added insult.
Dean watched as the emotions flitted across his brother’s face. Sam was always easy to read. Sam went from astonished, unsure of himself, a little scared, all the way to suddenly a firm and resolved look on his face.
“Okay, then, let’s get this over with,” Sam said, sounding more confident than Dean had heard him sound in a long time.
“No, Sam. I may have let Dad get away with it, but there is no way in hell that I’m letting you spank me,” Dean said with a voice he wished hadn’t sounded so shaky.
“Why? Because you think you don’t deserve it?” Sam asked. Dean’s guilty eyes met his brother’s, but he didn’t say anything. “That answers my question, then, doesn’t it?” Sam asked softly. Sam reached out and took Dean’s left upper arm in his right hand.
As Sam started to pull Dean away from the headboard, Dean’s stomach clenched. “Sam, stop,” he said as he pushed at Sam’s arm. When he wasn’t able to dislodge Sam’s hold on him after a halfhearted attempt, he started to pull away from Sam. “Sam, I mean it. This isn’t funny,” he said, his voice squeaking on the last word.
“I don’t think it’s funny,” Sam said, his eyes seeming to bore into Dean’s. “Anything could have happened to you last night, and I don’t think that’s funny at all.” Sam let that sink in for a moment, pinning his brother with a look.
This time Dean didn’t fight as Sam pulled him away from the headboard. He felt lightheaded as he went over his brother’s lap, and he knew that it wasn’t all because of the spectacular hangover he had. Dean let Sam arrange him on his lap until Dean’s chest was resting on the bed to Sam’s left, his legs hanging in between Sam’s. Sam then trapped Dean’s legs with his right leg. Dean felt Sam’s left hand come to rest on his lower back.
“This has got to stop, man. If you don’t feel comfortable talking to me about what’s really upsetting you, that’s fine, but this self-destructive behavior isn’t something I’m going to ignore anymore,” Sam said firmly.
Dean rolled his eyes again, thankful that his brother couldn’t see him as he didn’t know how Sam would have reacted to it. His shorts were halfway to his knees by the time he realized what was happening. “Sam!” Dean yelped as he reached back with his right hand to catch the shorts, but it was too late. Sam knocked Dean’s right hand away effortlessly, and Dean growled in frustration.
Sam didn’t waste any time. He brought his hand down smartly onto Dean’s ass seconds later. Dean relaxed again, knowing there was nothing that he could do about the fact that his brother obviously wanted to do this on bare skin. He closed his eyes and promised himself he wasn’t going to make a noise. Sure, Dad had gotten him to cry, but this was Sam. He could handle a hand spanking from his little brother without making any noise, couldn’t he?
Sam’s big hand made quick work of making Dean’s ass start to burn. When Sam finally stopped, Dean started to push his way up off of his brother’s lap, but was stopped abruptly by Sam’s left hand pushing him back down to the bed.
“Uh-uh, that was just the warm up,” Sam said, sounding so in control and confident that Dean almost shivered.
Dean let out a frustrated sigh, but obediently lay back down. The next second he let out a yelp as pain blossomed throughout his right buttock after a loud crack. “What the fuck?” Dean said as he tried to get up once again. Sam held him down with his left hand in between Dean’s shoulder blades. Dean looked over his left shoulder. “Where did you find Dad’s paddle?” he asked with wide eyes as he looked up at his brother.
“In the trunk, where it’s always been,” Sam said, then quickly landed a swat on Dean’s left buttock.
Dean winced and grunted, then tried to wiggle out of his brother’s grip. “You are not using the fucking paddle on me, dude,” Dean growled as he tried to get his legs free.
“I brought the paddle from the car because I really don’t believe a hand spanking will leave a lasting impression on you. I know you, Dean,” Sam said, then swatted Dean’s right buttock again.
“Would you fucking stop with the paddle already? You are not doing this!” Dean nearly yelled as he struggled even harder to get away.
“Yes, I am. You need to see that I’m serious about this. You need to realize what a big deal this is. Most of all, you need to stop fucking with your life,” Sam said, then landed a swat on Dean’s left buttock.
After a while of struggling, Dean realized he wasn’t making any headway. Sam wasn’t letting him go, and it seemed as if Sam wasn’t even trying that hard to begin with. Dean began to pant, but finally relaxed over his brother’s lap once more.
“Are you done?” Sam asked.
“You suck,” Dean grumbled into the blankets. Okay, he could do this. Sam just wanted him to know how serious he was. That didn’t mean that he was going to make Dean cry. At least Dean hoped that wasn’t the case.
Dean felt Sam’s left hand wrap around his right side and tug him closer to Sam’s body. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep from making any noise as Sam started to swat him again.
The pain built up even quicker than when Sam had been using his hand. Soon Dean started to squirm. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but it wasn’t something that Dean would call pleasant, either.
Sam kept quiet as he worked on Dean’s ass. Dean was starting to get upset, though. It was hurting more and more with each swat, and he wondered if he would be able to make it through the spanking quietly.
Dean’s panting sped up as he tried to keep tight control over his emotions. The fact that Sam cared enough to do this to him was only helping him feel more emotional.
Dad had told him when he was done toasting his ass when he was twenty-three that he had only done it because he loved Dean so much that it hurt. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that Sam felt the same way, and it was making his chest tight.
“Fucking stop!” Dean finally yelped as he threw his right hand back to cover his ass. Sam grabbed Dean’s wrist in his left hand and held it at the small of Dean’s back.
“Dad would never have put up with this shit, Dean, and you know it. He loved you too much to stand by and let you hit bottom,” Sam said as he continued swatting.
A sob burst out of Dean’s throat that he just couldn’t hold back any longer. This all hurt too much. “Sam, stop! Please!” Dean begged, his voice breaking pathetically.
“I love you way too much to watch you hit bottom when I know there’s something I can do about it,” Sam said, and if anything the paddle came down harder than before.
“Stop!” Dean yelped one more time, then started sobbing into the blankets. The heaving sobs were from somewhere deep inside, and they felt like they were tearing him apart.
Dean realized when Sam stopped spanking him, but he didn’t try to move away. He felt totally exhausted as he panted and cried out. Then he felt Sam’s left hand rubbing his back. It added a whole new level to all the emotions flying through him, and he let out a keening sob.
Sam just kept rubbing Dean’s back as Dean cried himself out. When he was down to merely sniffles and hiccups, Dean felt Sam replacing his shorts.
“Come on, Dean,” Sam said as he gently helped Dean to stand. Sam then stood and hugged him.
Dean resisted the hug at first, but then leaned into his brother, wrapped his arms around him, and rested his head on his brother’s shoulder. “You suck,” Dean said.
Sam chuckled. “Yeah, you mentioned that,” he said, but didn’t let go of Dean. After long moments in the warm embrace, Sam pulled back and looked down at Dean. “Are we okay?” he asked.
Dean wanted to say no. He wanted to hit Sam. Hell, he wanted to paddle him, show him just how much that damn paddle hurt. “Yeah, just don’t do that again anytime soon, okay?” Dean asked, his voice hoarse, throat sore and scratchy.
“I’d do it a thousand times over if it meant stopping you from giving a repeat performance of last night. Go it?” he asked, raised eyebrow.
Dean’s eyes widened at the threat, but he nodded his head in acceptance nonetheless. Sam then leaned over and pulled the blankets back.
“Get into bed,” Sam ordered gently.
Dean climbed into bed, and Sam covered him with the blankets. Sam turned away and started for the table at the other end of the room. “I’m sorry about last night,” Dean said softly to Sam’s back.
Sam turned around. “Hey, don’t you remember what Dad always said after a spanking? You’ve paid for what you did. You’re forgiven. Move on and try not to do it again,” Sam said with a bit of a smile.
Dean instantly felt better inside. They were okay. He hadn’t ruined his relationship with his brother. “I miss him,” Dean whispered, his eyes burning once again.
Sam didn’t look surprised at the admission. “Me, too,” he replied.
Dean turned and closed his eyes. He heard Sam sit down on one of the motel chairs and start working on his laptop. Dean’s ass was killing him. But he felt the same way he had felt when Dad had done the same thing to him. He felt cared for and like things were going to be okay.
End.
Pairing: None/Genfic
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG/Young Adult/Non-Explicit
Word Count: 2.8k
Alternate Link: AO3
Full List of Kinks and/or Warnings:
Setting: Season 4
Summary: Sam’s concerned about Dean’s drinking. Dean doesn’t think it’s a problem. Sam does.
A/N: Another fic that’s been sitting in my folder for a long time. I wrote it in Season 4 around the time Dean’s drinking got to be noticeable.
Dean quickly became aware of two things as he floated up from unconsciousness. First was that his head was going to explode soon. The second was that it was too damn bright in the room.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” Sam said from the bed opposite him.
Dean groaned as he squinted at Sam. “Dude, close the fucking curtains. Hurts,” he demanded in a gravelly voice as he turned over and pulled the blankets up over his head.
Sam let out a sigh, then Dean felt the bed dip behind him as his brother sat down on it. “It’s time to wake up. I want to talk to you,” Sam informed him as he wrapped his hand around Dean’s right shoulder and shook him gently.
“Fuck off,” Dean replied as he pulled out of his brother’s grip.
“It’s not going to work this time, Dean. I want to talk to you,” Sam said firmly.
Dean’s hands bunched into fists that he knew he wouldn’t use on against his brother. “Sleep,” he grumbled.
“Turn over, man,” Sam said, saying it with much more patience than Dean thought Sam would have by now.
“Go away,” Dean said, hoping that his brother would just give up like he normally did when he felt in the mood to talk.
“Not leaving,” Sam sing-songed.
“If you know what’s good for you, you will,” Dean sing-songed back. Sam then started to pull the blankets down. Dean grabbed for them, but he was still too clumsy between the wicked hangover and just waking up to be quicker than Sam.
“Sit up against the headboard,” Sam instructed when he had pulled the blankets down to Dean’s waist.
Dean let out a loud growl of frustration as he shakily sat up, then pulled himself backward to sit against the head of the bed. He then looked down. “Why the fuck am I only wearing my shorts?” he asked as he looked up at Sam with one eyebrow raised.
“You don’t remember anything that happened last night, do you?” Sam asked.
“Yes, I do,” Dean said defensively.
Sam snorted. “Okay, tell me what happened last night,” he requested.
Dean let out a big, put-upon sigh, rolled his eyes for added effect, and said, “I went to the bar down the street, played pool, got pleasantly drunk, then came back here to crash.”
The scowl on Sam’s face let Dean know that a little more went on than that. “Close, but you forgot the part about someone knocking on the motel door at three in the morning,” Sam grumbled.
“Okay, I’m sorry I woke you up,” Dean said, sounding less sorry and more annoyed than anything.
“Oh, it wasn’t you that woke me up. It was the two guys holding you up between them that woke me up,” Sam informed Dean. Dean opened his mouth, but Sam cut him off. “And the reason why you aren’t wearing your clothes is that I didn’t make it to the bathroom in time, and you threw up all over us both,” Sam said with a raised eyebrow.
Dean winced at that, feeling guilty enough that he actually looked down at the blankets. “I guess I had a little bit more than I thought I did, huh?” Dean asked with a sheepish grin as he looked up at his brother.
“This isn’t funny, and we are going to talk about this whether you like it or not,” Sam said.
Dean felt like rolling his eyes, but figured that his brother’s mood wouldn’t improve with it one bit. “Look, I’m sorry about the whole throwing-up-on-you thing, and it won’t happen again, but there’s nothing to talk about, so let me sleep the rest of this off, and then we’ll hit the road,” Dean said as he started to scoot down under the covers once again.
“No,” Sam growled loudly enough that Dean forgot what he was doing and looked up at Sam again. “I’ve put a lot of thought into this. What you’re doing is dangerous and hurting both of us. I am not going to let you ignore this anymore,” Sam said with a look on his face that said Dean wasn’t going to get away with it this time.
Dean’s eyes widened. Sam looked very serious. Usually he would have been able to get Sam to back off by now, but Sam obviously wasn’t backing off.
Sam’s shoulders sagged a little. “I know you’re still reeling from Dad’s death,” Sam said in a softer voice, and Dean tried hard to ignore the prickle at the backs of his eyes at those words. “I am, too. But what you’re doing isn’t going to solve anything.”
Dean looked away. Why did this all still hurt so badly? Why did Sam have to keep bringing up the subject of Dad?
“What would Dad do?” Sam asked.
“Oh, that’s low, Sam,” Dean said with a scowl as he looked to Sam.
“No, I’m serious. Do you remember what happened the first time you came home drunk?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.
A bit of a shock ran through Dean’s body as he remembered, then his eyes widened as realization hit of just what Sam was getting at. Dean shook his head. “No,” he said simply but firmly.
“It worked wonders on you. You never pulled this kind of shit around Dad after that, did you?” Sam asked.
Dean quickly looked away. He might be able to lie like a professional to anybody else, but Sam would see through it any day of the week.
Sam let out a squawk as his eyes widened. “You did it again?” he asked, obviously quite surprised.
Dean winced as he looked up at his brother again. “While you were away at college, Dad and I were on a hunt. I fucked up, got another hunter hurt, felt sorry for myself, and came back to the motel pretty messed up,” Dean explained.
“What did Dad--?”
“He spanked me, okay?” Dean interrupted irritably. “I was twenty-three, and I got my ass beat by my father the next morning,” Dean said miserably as he wrapped his arms around his stomach.
Sam seemed to take a moment to absorb that information. He wasn’t laughing or smiling, for which Dean was grateful. He felt like a big enough jerk as it was. He did not need added insult.
Dean watched as the emotions flitted across his brother’s face. Sam was always easy to read. Sam went from astonished, unsure of himself, a little scared, all the way to suddenly a firm and resolved look on his face.
“Okay, then, let’s get this over with,” Sam said, sounding more confident than Dean had heard him sound in a long time.
“No, Sam. I may have let Dad get away with it, but there is no way in hell that I’m letting you spank me,” Dean said with a voice he wished hadn’t sounded so shaky.
“Why? Because you think you don’t deserve it?” Sam asked. Dean’s guilty eyes met his brother’s, but he didn’t say anything. “That answers my question, then, doesn’t it?” Sam asked softly. Sam reached out and took Dean’s left upper arm in his right hand.
As Sam started to pull Dean away from the headboard, Dean’s stomach clenched. “Sam, stop,” he said as he pushed at Sam’s arm. When he wasn’t able to dislodge Sam’s hold on him after a halfhearted attempt, he started to pull away from Sam. “Sam, I mean it. This isn’t funny,” he said, his voice squeaking on the last word.
“I don’t think it’s funny,” Sam said, his eyes seeming to bore into Dean’s. “Anything could have happened to you last night, and I don’t think that’s funny at all.” Sam let that sink in for a moment, pinning his brother with a look.
This time Dean didn’t fight as Sam pulled him away from the headboard. He felt lightheaded as he went over his brother’s lap, and he knew that it wasn’t all because of the spectacular hangover he had. Dean let Sam arrange him on his lap until Dean’s chest was resting on the bed to Sam’s left, his legs hanging in between Sam’s. Sam then trapped Dean’s legs with his right leg. Dean felt Sam’s left hand come to rest on his lower back.
“This has got to stop, man. If you don’t feel comfortable talking to me about what’s really upsetting you, that’s fine, but this self-destructive behavior isn’t something I’m going to ignore anymore,” Sam said firmly.
Dean rolled his eyes again, thankful that his brother couldn’t see him as he didn’t know how Sam would have reacted to it. His shorts were halfway to his knees by the time he realized what was happening. “Sam!” Dean yelped as he reached back with his right hand to catch the shorts, but it was too late. Sam knocked Dean’s right hand away effortlessly, and Dean growled in frustration.
Sam didn’t waste any time. He brought his hand down smartly onto Dean’s ass seconds later. Dean relaxed again, knowing there was nothing that he could do about the fact that his brother obviously wanted to do this on bare skin. He closed his eyes and promised himself he wasn’t going to make a noise. Sure, Dad had gotten him to cry, but this was Sam. He could handle a hand spanking from his little brother without making any noise, couldn’t he?
Sam’s big hand made quick work of making Dean’s ass start to burn. When Sam finally stopped, Dean started to push his way up off of his brother’s lap, but was stopped abruptly by Sam’s left hand pushing him back down to the bed.
“Uh-uh, that was just the warm up,” Sam said, sounding so in control and confident that Dean almost shivered.
Dean let out a frustrated sigh, but obediently lay back down. The next second he let out a yelp as pain blossomed throughout his right buttock after a loud crack. “What the fuck?” Dean said as he tried to get up once again. Sam held him down with his left hand in between Dean’s shoulder blades. Dean looked over his left shoulder. “Where did you find Dad’s paddle?” he asked with wide eyes as he looked up at his brother.
“In the trunk, where it’s always been,” Sam said, then quickly landed a swat on Dean’s left buttock.
Dean winced and grunted, then tried to wiggle out of his brother’s grip. “You are not using the fucking paddle on me, dude,” Dean growled as he tried to get his legs free.
“I brought the paddle from the car because I really don’t believe a hand spanking will leave a lasting impression on you. I know you, Dean,” Sam said, then swatted Dean’s right buttock again.
“Would you fucking stop with the paddle already? You are not doing this!” Dean nearly yelled as he struggled even harder to get away.
“Yes, I am. You need to see that I’m serious about this. You need to realize what a big deal this is. Most of all, you need to stop fucking with your life,” Sam said, then landed a swat on Dean’s left buttock.
After a while of struggling, Dean realized he wasn’t making any headway. Sam wasn’t letting him go, and it seemed as if Sam wasn’t even trying that hard to begin with. Dean began to pant, but finally relaxed over his brother’s lap once more.
“Are you done?” Sam asked.
“You suck,” Dean grumbled into the blankets. Okay, he could do this. Sam just wanted him to know how serious he was. That didn’t mean that he was going to make Dean cry. At least Dean hoped that wasn’t the case.
Dean felt Sam’s left hand wrap around his right side and tug him closer to Sam’s body. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep from making any noise as Sam started to swat him again.
The pain built up even quicker than when Sam had been using his hand. Soon Dean started to squirm. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but it wasn’t something that Dean would call pleasant, either.
Sam kept quiet as he worked on Dean’s ass. Dean was starting to get upset, though. It was hurting more and more with each swat, and he wondered if he would be able to make it through the spanking quietly.
Dean’s panting sped up as he tried to keep tight control over his emotions. The fact that Sam cared enough to do this to him was only helping him feel more emotional.
Dad had told him when he was done toasting his ass when he was twenty-three that he had only done it because he loved Dean so much that it hurt. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that Sam felt the same way, and it was making his chest tight.
“Fucking stop!” Dean finally yelped as he threw his right hand back to cover his ass. Sam grabbed Dean’s wrist in his left hand and held it at the small of Dean’s back.
“Dad would never have put up with this shit, Dean, and you know it. He loved you too much to stand by and let you hit bottom,” Sam said as he continued swatting.
A sob burst out of Dean’s throat that he just couldn’t hold back any longer. This all hurt too much. “Sam, stop! Please!” Dean begged, his voice breaking pathetically.
“I love you way too much to watch you hit bottom when I know there’s something I can do about it,” Sam said, and if anything the paddle came down harder than before.
“Stop!” Dean yelped one more time, then started sobbing into the blankets. The heaving sobs were from somewhere deep inside, and they felt like they were tearing him apart.
Dean realized when Sam stopped spanking him, but he didn’t try to move away. He felt totally exhausted as he panted and cried out. Then he felt Sam’s left hand rubbing his back. It added a whole new level to all the emotions flying through him, and he let out a keening sob.
Sam just kept rubbing Dean’s back as Dean cried himself out. When he was down to merely sniffles and hiccups, Dean felt Sam replacing his shorts.
“Come on, Dean,” Sam said as he gently helped Dean to stand. Sam then stood and hugged him.
Dean resisted the hug at first, but then leaned into his brother, wrapped his arms around him, and rested his head on his brother’s shoulder. “You suck,” Dean said.
Sam chuckled. “Yeah, you mentioned that,” he said, but didn’t let go of Dean. After long moments in the warm embrace, Sam pulled back and looked down at Dean. “Are we okay?” he asked.
Dean wanted to say no. He wanted to hit Sam. Hell, he wanted to paddle him, show him just how much that damn paddle hurt. “Yeah, just don’t do that again anytime soon, okay?” Dean asked, his voice hoarse, throat sore and scratchy.
“I’d do it a thousand times over if it meant stopping you from giving a repeat performance of last night. Go it?” he asked, raised eyebrow.
Dean’s eyes widened at the threat, but he nodded his head in acceptance nonetheless. Sam then leaned over and pulled the blankets back.
“Get into bed,” Sam ordered gently.
Dean climbed into bed, and Sam covered him with the blankets. Sam turned away and started for the table at the other end of the room. “I’m sorry about last night,” Dean said softly to Sam’s back.
Sam turned around. “Hey, don’t you remember what Dad always said after a spanking? You’ve paid for what you did. You’re forgiven. Move on and try not to do it again,” Sam said with a bit of a smile.
Dean instantly felt better inside. They were okay. He hadn’t ruined his relationship with his brother. “I miss him,” Dean whispered, his eyes burning once again.
Sam didn’t look surprised at the admission. “Me, too,” he replied.
Dean turned and closed his eyes. He heard Sam sit down on one of the motel chairs and start working on his laptop. Dean’s ass was killing him. But he felt the same way he had felt when Dad had done the same thing to him. He felt cared for and like things were going to be okay.
End.