Got Issues

Title: Got Issues
Author:

dea_liberty
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: All feedback, including constructive criticism, is very much appreciated.
A/N: My first foray into this fandom, especially writing Dean, so I’m not quite sure what the make of it. Actually, I don’t quite know how to feel putting out something like this as my debut piece, but there we are! This is, in face, a bunny I adopted from

kali_sama over on

spn_bunnies, which has some really interesting and...stimulating bunnies. They have the muses salivating. You should all be worried.

He wants to say something, to make his presence known and remind Sam that it isn’t him, but his throat’s gone dry and his head’s still spinning, and apart from just listening to the conversation, even thinking’s hard work.

He’s sure got issues with you.

He lets out a strained breath, eyes opening slowly to only be greeted by darkness – and he realises that someone’s – something’s – thrown some sort of blanket over him. It makes it hard to breathe.

But his breath leaves him completely when he registers the sounds of hushed conversation coming from not far away. His own voice – and his brother’s.

And the bastard’s spilling out his deepest, darkest secrets – mostly exaggerated and twisted – and he can hear the hurt on Sam’s voice when he answers him. He wants to say something, to make his presence known and remind Sam that it isn’t him, but his throat’s gone dry and his head’s still spinning, and apart from just listening to the conversation, even thinking’s hard work.

That bastard must have hit him harder than he thought.

Just as he’s regaining the ability to actually move again, he hears Sam give a half-strangled mewl – and it’s as if the air just got thicker. He hears his own chuckle (from something else’s lips), hears his brother’s attempts to stop whatever’s happening, which end in a small, half-stifled moan.

Another chuckle and, “Yeah, he’s sure got issues with you, Sammy.” And then the unmistakable sound of lips on lips.

That fucking freak of nature was kissing his baby brother.

A muffled curse and the instantly recognisable sound of a backhand, smacking across Sam’s cheek as Sam tries to stop his pained groan from leaving his lips. “Vicious little bastard,” his own voice murmurs, low and threatening. “Biting your brother like that.”

“You’re not my brother.” That’s his Sammy – but there’s a hint of something in that voice Dean doesn’t quite recognise – and the following muted groan has absolutely nothing to do with pain.

“I am,” it mutters, voice achingly low and caressing – a tone Dean’s pretty sure very, very few people have ever, ever heard. He can hear Sam’s renewed struggles against whatever he’s been tied up again. “And you have no idea how long he’s – no – I’ve wanted this.”

Dean freezes. He’s pretty sure he can hear Sam freezing too. And fuck, if he hadn’t wanted to kill that dirty bastard before, he certainly does now. Everything else? Dean’s sure he would be able to ignore – and convince Sam to ignore as well – but this? This is something that could tear them apart despite the fact that it’s a shapeshifter and not actually Dean.

When he manages to drag his focus to the present rather than letting his imagination come up with a million and one ways which he’d use to kill that freaky bugger when he gets free, he realises there’s not much to hear. There are grunts as Sam resists – but they’re laced with short, sharp pants that go straight to Dean’s groin.

Fuck.

Because those aren’t the sounds that Sam makes when he’s tired, when they’ve run too far and Sam’s breathing becomes laboured – when he’s struggled so hard he’s struggling to breathe. The sounds he’s making now, between the growls and thrashing, are definitely not those noises because Dean knows those better than anyone.

And because Dean can hear the sounds of something else moving – of lips and hands and Sam’s twisting as if he’s not sure whether he wants to get away or not.

Son of a bitch. Dean renews his struggles to get loose just so he can fucking murder that fucking creature when he hears the distinct sound of that bastard hitting his brother again. Really, Dean is really going to kill that fucker when he gets free.

“Why are you fighting me?” There’s a short grunt from Sam, another creak-groan that tells him his brother’s still fighting to get free. “You want this as much as I do.”

Dean can - really can, this time - feel the silence and it stretches for so long he almost begins to wonder if his brother’s passed out from shock – but a strangled “fuck you” floats to his ears and he knows his brother’s got his jaws clenched just so - and although Dean’s under whatever the demon has covered him with, he can almost see the expression on his brother’s face.

He hears his carbon-copy chuckle. “I’d like that.” A swish that sounds distinctly like he’s moving closer to Sam. “But I’m sure you’d like it more if I fucked you.” A pause – and another slow, sensual chuckle. “See, Sammy? You want this as much as I do. You want me as much as I want you.”

The next words are so quiet Dean has to strain to hear them but what he hears is unmistakable. “Not you.” It’s whispered through clenched teeth and clenched jaw, strained as strained can be, forced out from almost unwilling lips – and Dean knows it’s not just because the demon has his hand on Sam’s throat.

He barely hears the shapeshifter backhanding his brother again because he’s too busy trying to process exactly what those two words from Sam’s supposed to mean – but then the demon’s nice enough to clear it all up for him.

“You just don’t get it. I am Dean.” It’s almost a shout – as if, for some reason, it really wants Sam to give in, to believe it.

“You’re not my brother.” Sam’s voice saying those words with such conviction sends a warmth through him and makes him renew his efforts at getting these damned ties loose so he can get his brother, torture that fucker who stole his skin and clean up this mess. “You’re not him.”

He finally manages to get the cover off his body once the demon’s headed off to Rebecca’s. He doesn’t mention what he’s heard to Sam, doesn’t even act as if he’s heard it at all – ignores the cautious looks Sam sends his way – and the look on Sam’s face tells him that Sam’s not sure whether he should be relieved or not. But it didn’t matter; he and Sam would have time to discuss it later – a lot of time to really go through the details if Dean has anything to say about it – but later.

Once he’d finished hurting that mother fucker who’d dared to touch his little brother.