Artist: gotaprettymouth - please leave her love here
Original Prompt: I combined all of Milly’s excellent prompts –
"Did you seriously think I wouldn't notice?!"
"Come on man, it's just a tiny prick and a few words of latin."
Any and all drunken shenanigans!
Warnings/Spoilers: implied wincest, some swearing
Characters: Sam and Dean
Genre: Gen, het, humor
Word count: 1520
A/N: Thanks to gotaprettymouth for the great artwork, their expressions are perfect, as is Sam’s tattoo! Thanks to dizzojay for the read-through and encuragement. Please note, I Googled the Latin so I have no idea how correct it is! But ‘fratris mei amo’ is I love my brother, and ‘frater optimus’ is my brother is the best. Also posted on AO3.
Summary: Sam wakes up after a night out drinking with Dean and has a very sore chest – he knew he shouldn’t have let Dean talk him into drinking shots...
Sam knew he shouldn’t have let Dean talk him into drinking shots. They’d both needed a night out at the end of a successful hunt for an angry spirit that had been quick, clean and kinda...dull. Sam reasoned efficiency and safety were better results than danger and injury, but it had been too easy. No adrenalin rush, no sense of real satisfaction. They’d decided to stay, as they already had the motel room booked for the night, and to take the opportunity to let their hair down for once.
Dean’s smile when Sam had agreed to go on to a bar after they’d eaten their evening meal had been so full of love and a little bit of surprise. Sam wasn’t as keen on frequenting bars as Dean was, unless it was for a case or to hustle pool.
“Wait...did you say yes?” Dean had said, green eyes wide as Sam’s words sank in.
After several beers and a few shots, it had seemed such a great idea to get up on the karaoke stage and warble along to ‘Budapest’. The bar was lively, and he’d got a few catcalls, but most people seemed to think he was just fucking hilarious as he lumbered around the small stage trying his best to hit the higher notes and not fall off the stage.
When Sam returned to their table, Dean was laughing so hard he was crying.
“Damn, Sammy, you sounded like a moose in heat when you were tryin’ to do them ooohs and badiddybos,” Dean grinned when he managed to stop laughing.
Sam huffed as he sat down, retorting as eloquently as possible, “An’ you’ve been spending too much time with that dickhead Crowley, you...you dickhead squirrel.”
Then Dean had taken the stage and belted out ‘Back in Black’ to the applause of the pleasantly surprised crowd. He’d stayed for an encore of ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’, telling the crowd Bon Jovi rocks - on occasion.
They’d stayed for more shots, and Sam had puked when the fresh air hit him as they left the bar, but unfortunately not enough to sober up. The rest of the night was a blur to him.
He woke up with a heavy head and a sore chest. He reached out for Dean, needing some sympathy and a hug, but the bed was empty. Sam groaned as he sat up and looked around the motel room; no sign of his brother. He staggered through to the bathroom, where he downed some painkillers and stripped off, rubbing his sore chest.
“What the fuck?” he winced at the pain. He didn’t remember getting injured on the hunt, so perhaps they’d been in a bar fight or...
He looked at his reflection and there, right across his chest, was a large tattoo, bearing the words fratris mei amo with frater optimus underneath.
“You fucking bastard!” He yelled, knowing now why Dean had left before he woke up. “I’m gonna kill you!”
Sam showered and hoped the horrible thing would wash off; perhaps it was Dean’s idea of a joke and not permanent. He started on the first ‘f’ but it didn’t fade or budge and scrubbing at it just made his skin sore. Once he was dressed, he paced the floor for a while, then called Dean and left a string of curses on his voicemail, before pacing some more. By the time Dean returned an hour later, Sam was researching tattoo removal on his laptop.
“Hiya Sammy...” Dean greeted him sheepishly as he entered the room.
“Fuck off.” Sam snarled.
“You...er...you’ve seen it, then?” Dean didn’t meet Sam’s glare as he deposited a shopping bag and a smoothie on the table next to Sam’s laptop.
"Did you seriously think I wouldn't notice?!" Sam asked, incredulous.
“No, course not. It’s kinda...big.” Dean admitted.
“It’s fucking huge!” Sam shouted. “How could you do that to me?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Dean protested. “You saw the tattoo parlor, you wanted to get a tatt...”
“I was drunk, you should’ve talked me outta it!” Sam retorted.
“I tried, the tattoo guy tried, you were determined.” Dean replied. “You know you’re a stubborn son-of-a-bitch.”
“You’re my brother, you’re supposed to look out for me...” Sam tried hard not to whine.
"Come on man, it’s just a few words of Latin." Dean sounded infuriatingly reasonable.
“It’s a few words of Latin in huge fucking letters across my chest!” Sam yelled.
“It looks good.” Dean grinned, then thought better of it as Sam scowled at him. “And it won’t hurt for long, Sammy. It was just a tiny prick or two...”
“Yeah, you’d know all about having a tiny prick,” Sam bitched.
“That’s not what you usually call it,” Dean joked, trying to defuse the situation. Sam just glared at him, and Dean picked up the smoothie, offering it to him. “I got you your favorite kale smoothie. Added some ginger, as it’s supposed to be good for hangovers.” Sam crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair to continue glaring at Dean. He tried not to wince at the pain his arms touching his sore skin caused. “And...and I got some lotion for your skin, to cool it down. I know it smarts.”
“Fuck you.” Sam dropped his gaze to the laptop again. It seemed tattoo removal was expensive, time-consuming and not always successful.
“C’mon, Sammy, don’t be mad at me,” Dean pleaded, carefully sitting next to him and placing a hand on Sam’s knee.
“You’re gonna pay for the removal,” Sam growled.
“Removal? Doncha love me no more, Sammy?” Dean batted his eyelashes at him.
“I hate you right now.” Sam tried not to smile. Dean knew him too well, and knew how to get around him, the bastard. But not this time. “I have a permanent disfiguration. The removal might not work and takes fucking weeks. This isn’t like the time we got drunk and you shaved my eyebrows off...”
Dean grinned at that, then tried to look contrite. He failed. “Sorry, Sammy, you looked so freaky without eyebrows!” He laughed, and Sam bit his cheek to stop from smiling.
“You’re a fucking bastard.” He pushed Dean’s hand – which had moved slightly up from his knee towards his groin - away from him and stood up. “I’m going out.”
“But you need to put the lotion on...” Dean argued. “And what about your smoothie?”
Sam grabbed the smoothie, and before he’d even thought about it, he’d flicked the lid off and tipped the contents over Dean’s head. Dean spluttered and cursed as the vile green liquid dripped down his face and neck. His hair was covered in the stuff and he blinked in surprise.He'd called Sam's smoothies 'Treebeard's Vomit' before, and as it dripped down his face, Sam thought it looked just like that.
“What the fuck?” Dean yelled as he stood up.
“Don’t worry, Dean, it’s good for a hangover.” Sam spat out, trying hard not to smile. As soon as he was safely outside, he leaned against the wall and laughed at the spectacle he’d just seen.
Sam walked to the diner next to the motel and ordered an egg white omelet, toast and coffee. He took his time, using his cell to surf the internet for any leads on a possible hunt.
When he returned to their room, Dean was laying on the bed, a towel round his waist, his hair still wet from showering.
“Sorry about the...” Sam shrugged. “You okay?”
Dean nodded, looking glum. “Wasn’t really my fault, Sammy. Honestly.”
“Yeah, I guess I’m a grown-ass man, I make my own decisions, even when drunk.” Sam admitted.
“Yeah.” Dean shifted a little, like he was uncomfortable. “And, well, you weren’t the only one.”
Sam frowned, peering across the room at Dean’s chest. There was only his protection tattoo there, nothing else. “What d’you mean?”
“Well, I’m gonna need your help applying the lotion...” Dean said, then rolled over, exposing his creamy ass to Sam’s gaze. Sam moved closer, unable to comprehend what he was seeing at first. He dropped onto his knees and gently ran his fingertips over the words emblazoned across the top of Dean’s ass and lower back.
“Et hoc pertinet ad Sam Winchester.”
“Oh my God,” Sam breathed, “Fuck, Dean, I don’t know what to say. I’ve been such a jerk, you should’ve told me you’d had this done, too. Wow.”
“You didn’t give me much of a chance.” Dean replied, sounding a little nervous as he added, “Um, is it okay? Do you...do you like it?”
Sam nodded, speechless for a moment as the implications of what Dean had done sunk in. Then his face broke out into a grin.
“Property of Sam Winchester. Oh yes, I love it. Means you’re mine now, Dean, forever.”
“I was yours before, Sammy, I don’t need a tiny prick and some Latin to prove it.” Dean replied, smiling.
“Well, you got the Latin now, but you certainly haven’t got a tiny prick,” Sam winked.
“You say the sweetest things,” Dean grinned. “Now grab the lotion; the sooner it’s healed, the better.”
“Hell, yeah!” Sam got up to get the lotion and removed his shirt, too. “Et hoc pertinet ad Dean Winchester,” he announced with a grin.
“Fratris mei amo.” Dean smiled back up at him.