Archive of Our Own ^beta

Fingerpaint and Memories Fingerpaint and Memories
Rating: 18+
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Warnings: incest
AN: Written for the highwaymiles challenge, prompt 166. Supernatural Sam discovers something Dean keeps in the trunk of the Impala that he'd never expected.


Sam dug through the pile of weapons on the side of the road, Kansas blaring from the speakers. Muttering under his breath, he glared at the back of Dean’s head as the older man napped in the car.

Mimicking Dean’s voice, Sam grumbled, “It’s your turn to organize the trunk, Sammy! It’ll be fun, Sammy! Just like old times, Sammy! I emptied it, you get to put everything back, Sammy! I’ll show him old times.”

Wiping his hand across his forehead, Sam pulled Dean’s crossbow and bag of coiled bow string off the tarp and layed them in the bottom of the trunk. Adjusting the crossbow slightly, he reached down for the arrow shafts. Frowning at the number, he made a mental note to stop and get more. Placing them beside the bow and tying them down, he picked up the case of arrowheads.

Silver, bronze, iron, wood, steel, all etched with symbols and runes and blessed with holy water. These Sam placed on top of the shafts, snapping the case into place. As he turned to pick up the coiled garotte laying harmlessly on the tarp, a small, almost unnoticeable piece of white in the back of the trunk caught his eye.

Sam frowned. ‘Dean said he cleaned it out. Huh. Maybe he didn’t see it.’ Shrugging, he reached down and tugged at the small scrap. His frown grew as the paper resisted and he tugged it harder, almost shouting when it gave and pulled smoothly from under the grey interior of the trunk.

Glancing around at the bare country road reflexively before looking in the back of the car, Sam sighed at the lack of movement. Sam looked at the folded piece of paper in curiousity. It was old, wrinkled and yellowed around the edges, with coffee or old blood stains on one corner. Carefully unfolding the small square, Sam stared at the standard 8½ by 11 sheet of paper in shock.

***

Sammy looked at Mrs A nervously. He had worked really hard on his painting and was proud of it. When he got home, he was going to give it to Dean, he thought. As he pictured how happy Dean would be, Mrs A looked at him and smiled.

“This is very nice, Sammy. You have a good imagination.” She gave him his picture back and Sam positively bounced in his chair.

“I’m gonna give it to my brother!” Sam exclaimed, looking at Mrs A.

Laughing softly, she handed him a small paint brush. “Why don’t you put your name on it?”

Sammy grinned.

***

‘I forgot about this. I can’t believe he kept it.’ Sam stared down at the old paper, fingering the small bloodstain carefully. He tried not to think of how and when Dean had bled on the picture, looking instead at the coffeestain that lay across the centre of the painting. He smiled a little before he folded the picture back up and carefully put it back where he’d found it.

Working quickly, Sam put everything back in the trunk, making a note of anything that needed to be replaced or fixed, and folded the tarp. Closing the trunk, he stowed the tarp in the back seat and closed the door quietly.

Moving to the passenger door, he stared down at Dean, picturing Dean’s face when Sammy had given him his painting. Ten year old Dean had smiled and laughed, carefully folding it and putting it in one of his books, promising to keep it.

Dean had opened both front doors and layed down across the bench and was snoring softly. Sam smiled at Dean’s trust that Sam would keep an eye out for any trouble.

Dean’s bare feet hung over the seat, sticking out the door into the warm air. As Sam watched, Dean flexed his toes and relaxed, murmuring under his breath. Sam carefully lifted Dean’s legs and slid onto the seat, resting Dean’s feet on his lap. Once he was comfortable, he wrapped his hands around Dean’s foot and began massaging.

Working his way along the arch, he pressed deep, kneading the fine musculature, earning a soft groan from the dozing man. Sam glanced at Dean and watched as Dean blinked sleepily, staring at him as Sam worked massaged the older man’s feet.

As Dean opened his mouth to say something, Sam shook his head slightly, returning to his task. Dropping Dean’s foot, he picked up the other, running his fingers along the toes and down the arch, tracing the achilles tendon. When Dean’s leg twitched, Sam smiled and began massaging, closing his eyes and losing himself to the feel of Dean’s skin under his hands.

Dean moaned, a low sound that sent shudders down Sam’s spine and he opened his eyes to see his brother sprawled across the seat, his fingers clenched in his tshirt.

Sam laughed, the sound a mix of amusement, affection, and sex. “Something wrong, Dean?”

Dean growled at him and sat up, pulling his shirt off and swinging his legs off Sam’s lap, reaching for the younger man. Grinning, Sam pressed his hand into the centre of Dean’s chest and pushed. Landing with an oomph on the seat, Dean stared up at Sam in shock, sprawled across the seat like a 14 year old’s wet dream.

“Ah ah. You just lay back and enjoy today.” Sam shivered as Dean’s pupils expanded and his eyes glazed over. Licking his lips slowly, Sam pulled Dean’s legs back onto his lap. Enjoying the feel of crisp hair under his fingers, Sam slid his hand under Dean’s pants, brushing his palm along his brother’s calf. The muscle tensed under his hand and Sam involuntarily arched up, pressing his growing erection against Dean’s leg.

Taking a calming breath, Sam continued twirling his fingers through the short hairs on Dean’s leg with one hand as he reached for Dean’s zipper with the other. Dean groaned loudly as Sam tugged at the zipper, slowly dragging it down, both men listening to the rasp of teeth.

Sam pulled his hand out of Dean’s pantleg, teasingly trailing his fingers down Dean’s ankle and along the sole of his foot. Leaning over Dean, Sam urged the other man to lift his hips and pulled Dean’s jeans and boxers off.

Sam licked his lips as he stared down at Dean. His brother’s cock lay hard against his stomach, a smear of precum on the taut skin below Dean’s navel. A thick thatch of hair thinned and lightened to a gold line, arrowing towards Dean’s chest. Dean spread his legs invitingly and Sam smiled at the sound of skin sticking to hot upholstery.

Pulling his shirt off, Sam shifted and knelt between Dean’s legs. Smiling mischieviously at Dean, he leaned over and nuzzled the soft trail of hair under the older man’s bellybutton. At Dean’s strangled gasp, Sam’s tongue darted out, teasing the sensitive skin before darting into Dean’s navel.

Dean bucked up involuntarily and Sam gripped his hips, pressing the older man down. Sam nipped at the hot skin, tracing the contours and lines of Dean’s abdomen. As he made his way upward, he threaded his fingers through Dean’s hair, palming the older man’s skull. The short hairs at the nape of Dean’s neck were damp, from the heat of the afternoon, from being pressed to the upholstery, and Sam shivered at the wet slide of the hair against his palm.

When Dean groaned low in his chest, whimpering out, “Sam, please,” Sam pulled himself flush with the older man, pressing his chest down and grinding his hips. Dean’s eyes pleaded with him, to do something, anything, and Sam enjoyed the feeling of power over his brother. Pressing his lips to Dean’s, he slowly licked across Dean’s lower lip before tugging the swollen flesh. He traced his tongue along the indents where Dean had been biting down to keep from making any noise. Sam made a mental note to see how loud he could make Dean get another day, when they were had more room to play.

Dean opened his mouth and curled his tongue around Sam’s, trying to draw Sam in. Dean’s of groan of frustration when Sam drew back turned into a murmur of encouragement as Sam sat back, quickly undoing his pants and drawing then and his boxers off. Dean’s eyes slid slowly down Sam’s chest and Sam groaned, feeling a frisson of heat low in his belly as he took in the desire on Dean’s face.

“C’mere.” Dean almost whispered, holding his hand out to Sam. Sam allowed himself to be pulled down, hips bucking as hot flesh made contact. Sam bypassed Dean’s mouth, sucking and licking along the older man’s jaw as his hips pressed rhythmically into Dean’s. Sweat pooled between them as Sam mouthed the corner of Dean’s jaw, biting at the stubble, loving the feel of the hair on his tongue.

“Dean, Dean, god, you’re so-” Sam bit off, thinking of a man who had kept a child’s painting for sixteen years, a man who took care of Sam even if it hurt him, as Dean ran his hands down his back, clutching Sam’s ass and pulling him closer. Sam panted into Dean’s neck as both men moved together, the warm summer sun beating down as they sat in the middle of nowhere.

Sam reached between them, sliding along slick skin easily to grasp Dean’s erection, dragging his thumb over the glans, earning a gasp from Dean. Sam moved to the side and pressed into Dean’s hip as he licked a path up Dean’s neck. Desperately, he pressed his lips to Dean’s, thrusting his tongue into the older man’s mouth in a rough parody of his hips.

Tongues slid sleekly as Sam fought his orgasm, determined to see Dean come first. Eyes wide, Sam stared down at Dean, his hand tightening on the older man’s erection.

“God, you’re so hot, love seeing you like this, panting under me, so hot,” Sam panted out, his hips snapping against Dean. “Love this, us, like this, just us.”

Dean’s eyes snapped shut and his hands tightened on Sam’s ass as he froze. Breath stuttering out, the only noise Dean made was a quiet sigh, breathing out Sam’s name. Sam’s orgasm caught him almost by surprise. So caught up in watching Dean below him, he’d forgotten how close he was. His vision flickered around the edges as waves of pleasure rolled through him and Sam held himself taut above Dean.

Moments later, he relaxed onto Dean, their mouths meeting relaxedly, pressing and sliding together. Sam pulled back slowly, opening his eyes and touching his forehead to Dean’s.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what was that about?” Dean asked as he threaded his fingers through Sam’s hair, cradling the younger man against him.

“Just…for being you.” Sam said as he thought of the painting hidden in the trunk and a ten year old’s promise to his little brother.