Dean huffed to himself as he clambered up the final set of steps leading to the top of the water tower. His fucking idiot of a brother had his ridiculous long legs dangling off the platform and his arms leaning all too casually on the railing. There was a mostly empty bottle of whisky in one hand and Dean knew it wasn’t the first. Sam let out a low “Hey” as Dean carefully sat beside him, leaning back against the tank at the top of the tower.
It was pretty up here. Not like in that fucking tree that had been in the middle of a forest and determined to poke him in the eye with every twig, leaf and insect available. Sam should not get drunk near tall objects. Wait a minute. Dean, himself, was probably fairly drunk which is good because he wouldn’t be climbing up water towers at night unless it was a) a hunt or b) he was drunk. Or c) Sam was up there, he supposed.
He still took a drink when Sam offered him the bottle.
“D’you remember the time I climbed that pylon?” Sam slurred, taking a good couple of tries to retrieve the bottle when Dean’s finished.
“Yup.” That one hadn’t been fun. Most of the time Sam climbed things like fire escapes and roofs. And trees. Couldn’t forget the trees. “It was party time, right enough.”
“I like…” Sam seemed to run out of words and took another drink. He was still co-ordinated enough to get the bottle to his mouth smoothly. That led to Dean eyeing the stairway to the ground. It was rickety. Dilapidated. Neglected. In need of work. Fucking falling apart.
“How the fuck do you find these places, Sam?” Since Dean had been hauling his baby brother down from things since he could basically walk, Dean guessed it was something genetic. Maybe his brother was part squirrel. That would explain the hair. Maybe. “Or do you just like things bigger than you?”
It was fucking rhetorical, all right. No reason for Sam to roll his eyes and let out a reproachful, “Deaaaaaaan.”
“I meant-“ Dean bit his lip against the laugh that was threatening to spill out. It came anyway as an undignified snort. “C’mon, you fucking spider monkey.”
“I knew it!” Sam was triumphant even as he followed Dean to his feet. “I knew you’d watched Twilight.”
“Did not. Just saw the trailers. Who could escape them?” Dean made sure Sam’s feet were planted firmly on the start of the steps before he started down. Backwards. Just in case. It wouldn’t do for Sam to get hurt. For hunting reasons.
“Four years ago, dickwad.” Sam was entirely too proud of this, flailing his hand free. Dean held onto his ankles until his body was more or less against the steps again and not in mid-air. It was with a sense of relief that he stumbled against the ground. Sam didn’t stumble as much as fall the last few feet. He looked up at Dean through his long lashes and ignored the hand Dean thrust down to help him up in favour of finishing off the whisky. The bottle shattered when he tossed it over his shoulder. “Hey, Dean…?”
“Yeah?”
“I do like climbing bigger things.” Sam was probably aiming for sultry or slutty but it came out more petulant. Dean’s dick didn’t care. Especially when Sam’s hands scrabbled at his calves and then his thighs, drawing ever nearer to the target of his caresses.
“This is all just some kind of bizarre foreplay for you, isn’t it?” Dean couldn’t resist the comment as Sam started to pull himself up, nuzzling the front of Dean’s jeans as he used his grip on Dean’s hips to get to his feet. He ended up tangled his arms around Dean’s head and pulling him into his neck.
“Motel. Bed. Now. More climbing to do.” Sam planted a hand over interested Dean’s cock and squeezed. “Big things to climb.”
Dean led Sam towards the car with a hand at the small of his back. “I just meant older, you know.”
Tall As Houses
At least it's not a tree this time.
Dean huffed to himself as he clambered up the final set of steps leading to the top of the water tower. His fucking idiot of a brother had his ridiculous long legs dangling off the platform and his arms leaning all too casually on the railing. There was a mostly empty bottle of whisky in one hand and Dean knew it wasn’t the first. Sam let out a low “Hey” as Dean carefully sat beside him, leaning back against the tank at the top of the tower.
It was pretty up here. Not like in that fucking tree that had been in the middle of a forest and determined to poke him in the eye with every twig, leaf and insect available. Sam should not get drunk near tall objects. Wait a minute. Dean, himself, was probably fairly drunk which is good because he wouldn’t be climbing up water towers at night unless it was a) a hunt or b) he was drunk. Or c) Sam was up there, he supposed.
He still took a drink when Sam offered him the bottle.
“D’you remember the time I climbed that pylon?” Sam slurred, taking a good couple of tries to retrieve the bottle when Dean’s finished.
“Yup.” That one hadn’t been fun. Most of the time Sam climbed things like fire escapes and roofs. And trees. Couldn’t forget the trees. “It was party time, right enough.”
“I like…” Sam seemed to run out of words and took another drink. He was still co-ordinated enough to get the bottle to his mouth smoothly. That led to Dean eyeing the stairway to the ground. It was rickety. Dilapidated. Neglected. In need of work. Fucking falling apart.
“How the fuck do you find these places, Sam?” Since Dean had been hauling his baby brother down from things since he could basically walk, Dean guessed it was something genetic. Maybe his brother was part squirrel. That would explain the hair. Maybe. “Or do you just like things bigger than you?”
It was fucking rhetorical, all right. No reason for Sam to roll his eyes and let out a reproachful, “Deaaaaaaan.”
“I meant-“ Dean bit his lip against the laugh that was threatening to spill out. It came anyway as an undignified snort. “C’mon, you fucking spider monkey.”
“I knew it!” Sam was triumphant even as he followed Dean to his feet. “I knew you’d watched Twilight.”
“Did not. Just saw the trailers. Who could escape them?” Dean made sure Sam’s feet were planted firmly on the start of the steps before he started down. Backwards. Just in case. It wouldn’t do for Sam to get hurt. For hunting reasons.
“Four years ago, dickwad.” Sam was entirely too proud of this, flailing his hand free. Dean held onto his ankles until his body was more or less against the steps again and not in mid-air. It was with a sense of relief that he stumbled against the ground. Sam didn’t stumble as much as fall the last few feet. He looked up at Dean through his long lashes and ignored the hand Dean thrust down to help him up in favour of finishing off the whisky. The bottle shattered when he tossed it over his shoulder. “Hey, Dean…?”
“Yeah?”
“I do like climbing bigger things.” Sam was probably aiming for sultry or slutty but it came out more petulant. Dean’s dick didn’t care. Especially when Sam’s hands scrabbled at his calves and then his thighs, drawing ever nearer to the target of his caresses.
“This is all just some kind of bizarre foreplay for you, isn’t it?” Dean couldn’t resist the comment as Sam started to pull himself up, nuzzling the front of Dean’s jeans as he used his grip on Dean’s hips to get to his feet. He ended up tangled his arms around Dean’s head and pulling him into his neck.
“Motel. Bed. Now. More climbing to do.” Sam planted a hand over interested Dean’s cock and squeezed. “Big things to climb.”
Dean led Sam towards the car with a hand at the small of his back. “I just meant older, you know.”