Chapter Text
Dean wakes to a dull aching in his shoulders. When he tries to move and can’t, he opens his eyes wide and realises that his wrists are tied – no, cuffed – to the bed head. Looking frantically around the room for the culprit, he spots him in the bathroom. “Sam!”
Sam turns around and smiles. “Morning,” he says, like there’s nothing wrong with that picture.
“What the hell, man?! Get me out of these.”
“All in good time, Dean.”
“Now, Sam.”
Sam walks into the room and sits at the side of the bed. “I got us some breakfast, and the coffee should still be hot. I’ll uncuff one wrist, okay?”
“What’s this all about?” He asks, watching Sam pick up the key from the table and unlocking his right wrist. “You finding new kinks in your sleep?” He flexes his wrist when it’s free.
“I’ve got something to show you,” is all the explanation Sam gives, placing Dean’s food and coffee on the bedside table.
“You could’ve warned me; I’m sure I would’ve let you.”
“Next time I will. Eat.”
Dean looks at the food with a frown. “Sam, you put the food on the wrong side of the bed, dude.”
“Grumpy much?” Sam says with a small smile. “Anyway, you can get to it. Look at the bed head. You can move the cuffs along from one side to the other. It’s only cheap brass, but it’ll hold you,” he adds, before Dean can start scheming.
Dean gives in, temporarily, and makes his way to the other side of the bed, and the – surprisingly – good smelling coffee. “So, what’s the charge, officer?” Dean asks.
Sam smiles. “No charge.”
Dean takes a breath. Slowly losing what little patience he has, he says, “Sam, if you don’t tell me why I’m cuffed to the bed, I swear I’ll put you in these the first chance I get.” Dean knows that Sam doesn’t like the idea of being tied up, and Sam doesn’t keep him waiting for his reaction.
Sam’s smile dissolves. After a moment, he reaches for the key again and proceeds to unlock Dean’s other wrist. He sits back on his bed without a word.
Dean rubs his wrist and sits up. “What’s going on, Sam?”
“Nothing.”
“Uh, come again?”
Looking up at Dean, he smiles. “It doesn’t matter. It was a stupid idea.” Getting to his feet, he walks into the bathroom and closes the door.
Dean sighs; he’s so not buying that smile. He ruined Sam’s plans, whatever they were. He walks to the closed door and thinks about turning the handle. Instead, he talks to the door. “Come on, Sam, talk to me.”
Sam opens the door a few seconds later and walks past Dean. “Nothing to talk about. Forget it,” he says, trying for casual and, instead, coming off a little snarky. He picks up his coffee, shakes it, and is just about to put it down again when he’s pushed off his feet and on to his bed, landing on his back. In the process, the coffee cup flies out of Sam’s hand and drops between their beds, quickly creating another stain in the already questionable carpet.
Dean straddles Sam and pins his arms above his head. “What were you planning, little brother?”
“Dean,” Sam begins, but stops when he sees that Dean is serious. He sighs. “I won’t try to tie you up again, okay?”
“It’s not about me being tied up. I’m not against that. I’d like to know why, though.” When he sees that Sam can’t look him in the eye, he lowers his head and lightly mouths Sam’s right ear lobe. “I’m sorry I ruined your plans,” he says, softly.
“It’s okay. I guess I need some more practice in seduction techniques,” he adds, with the breath of a laugh.
Dean sits up and removes his hands from Sam’s arms. “You do more than okay in that department; I think we’re officially rabbits.”
Sam chuckles, relaxing a little more.
“Seriously, man, tell me what you were gonna do.”
Sam shakes his head. “Nah, it kinda loses something in the translation.”
Dean is about to open his mouth to try again when he has another idea. He climbs off Sam and the bed and, taking one of the handcuffs still hanging on the bed head, clicks the cuff around his wrist until it locks, secure but not tight. Dean sits on his bed and looks at Sam.
Sam sits up. “Dean, the moment’s gone, dude.”
“Tell me, Sam.”
Sam sighs, but Dean is trying, and he has to get points for that. “Okay, but telling you isn’t exactly the same.”
Dean pats the bed beside him. “I get it. Come here.”
Sam gets up and sits on the edge of the bed and faces Dean. “Well, I was gonna give you another of your fantasies.” He shrugs.
Dean raises an eyebrow. “Which one?”
Sam’s voice grows quieter. “The one where you said you wanted to watch me jack myself off in front of you.” He lowers his eyes, a little embarrassed.
Dean closes his eyes for a moment. “And I fucked that up? I am such a dumb ass! Jeez, Sammy, I’m so sorry,” he says with feeling.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. And I’m probably not going to get another chance. I know what it means for you to do that for me, and I blew it.” He shakes his head.
“I wasn’t going to cuff you to start with, but I thought it might heighten the anticipation if you knew you couldn’t touch me while I was doing it.”
Dean reaches his free hand around Sam’s neck and brings him in close. “I feel like such an idiot.”
Sam leans back temporarily and proceeds to uncuff Dean again. He then wraps his arms around Dean and they hold on to each other for a moment. “It’s really okay, Dean; you didn’t know.”
Dean kisses Sam’s neck as he pulls back. “How can I make it up to you?”
Sam is about to say that he doesn’t need to, when he stops himself. “I’ll think of something,” he says, instead, with a small but warm smile.