Disclaimer: Don't own.

Title: Inseparable… literally

Rating: M

Pairing: Dean/Sam

Warnings: incest, ummm… sub!Sam?, crackiness?

Author's notes: Just needed to write something a bit humorous. Read something similar in a SasuNaru fic once and well… this is what I got.

"Dean…" A desperate voice whispered, "Dean, oh my god. Get up! Dean!" the annoying little voice didn't stop so Dean reluctantly pried his eyes open.

Soft, downy, mussed hair greeted the tired film of Dean's stumbling conscious. For a moment he considered sleep again since it was obvious Sam wouldn't be taking to him facing the wrong direction, but the voice, definitely Sam's voice, repeated more urgently. "Dean, man, you gotta wake up!"

Bummed, Dean lazily traced a path down his brother's muscled shoulders with the tip of his nose, more interested in another round of mind blowing sex than talking. "What Sammy, I'm tired."

Sammy made that little huff choke noise that means he's part worried, part exasperated. "Dean… we've got a problem."

Dean didn't like the sound of that. "What is it this time? Is the world burning? Did you lose your soul again?" Dean paused, horror filling him, "Fuck man, did you know how hard that was to get back?"

Sam groaned and threw a gloriously, delicious muscled arm up over his eyes, stretching his back into long lines Dean was quite willing to lick. "No Dean, that's not—"

"Fuck! Did Castiel pop in again?" Dean suddenly yelped, popping his head over Sam's shoulder to peer around the small motel room for any sign of the trench coat and its master. There was no one watching creepily from the dining room table so he signed in relief and flopped back down to the pillow. Curling one arm across his brother's defined stomach, Dean wondered what Sam was so distressed about. No apocalypse, no Castiel, no heart-breaking soullessness. All around a pretty good day.

Finally, Sam deigned to turn his shoulders slightly to glance back at him from their spooned position. "Dean, we're stuck."

Dean felt his eyebrows pucker and an unamused grimace sneak onto his face. "Damn yeah, I'd say we're pretty stuck, Sammy. I'm not going anywhere and you damn better fuck not be."

Sammy shook his head. "We're stuck, as in your cock won't come out of my ass." Dean stared at the pretty mouth that had just mouthed those words, "And yes Dean, I checked. And then I looked at the lube you used and then I would have strangled you except I couldn't reach around well enough to grab your neck in a satisfying enough grip."

"What?" Dean finally managed to wrangle out of his mouth. Trying to pull out from the gripping tightness of Sam's ass. But his dick doesn't move, just a tender yank at his skin by the dried liquid he'd used for lubrication.

"You used glue, Dean. Incredibly durable glue that won't come off unless a special solution is used. A solution we don't have and can only find at a store." Dean gulped, because Sam had gotten quieter, voice softer with each word and that meant he was angry at him. And close to tears. Angry in a way that his brother only let himself get around Dean because if left to himself, he would start to cry.

Heroically, Dean panicked, "Shh-shh, Sammy," he pleaded into one hickey marked shoulder, rubbing any piece of flesh available to his hands with long soothing strokes, "it's okay, it's okay. We'll figure this out; everything's going to be fine."

Sammy let out the hiccupping, wet little giggle he always gave whenever Dean said something stupid and they were about to die… or be stuck cock to ass until someone found them sans dignity. For the first time since the apocalypse and… well death, Dean hoped that Castiel would appear to help. Carefully, he tugged his hips back a bit but all he got was the painful twinges of his pubic hair trying to pull away from Sam's skin.

They were in some shit town in the middle of Georgia with no hope of anyone coming to find them. And calling the hotel manager would be… utterly humiliating and completely unacceptable. Sammy was still shaking and breathing lowly next to him, trying control his admittedly flaky emotions. Being soulless for so long had left some problems, namely a Sam without control. (Which Dean admitted was both a pleasure and a curse. Wanton Sammy was sexy as hell… crying Sammy was terrifying.)

"We're j-just going to h-have to call the mana-ager." Sam finally croaked, reaching out a big, calloused palm to grab the phone on the side table.

Dean's eyes bulged and he lunged his arm over to grab his baby brother's elbow. "NO!" he yelped, trying not to imagine the sixty year old matron that had checked them in the night before.

Sammy's bright, reddened eyes glared at him over his broad shoulder, "You don't have a choice, Dean. You got us into this mess and I for one don't doubt she's seen worse than this." The damningly long arms plucked the phone and dialed for the front desk.

Helplessly, Dean waited for the woman to pick up, hoping she'd gone out for a coffee run or to pet her cat. Anything. Instead the cheery voice answered with a, "Good morning! Is there anything we can do for you this morning?"

Dean flopped back and groaned as Sam answered with a 'good morning' and a 'could you please go grab something from a store for us' and a 'yes we'll compensate' and a 'thank you so much'. The phone clicked back into its holder and the both of them stayed nestled under the sheets, attached at the hips.

The silence stretched like a band of putty, all droopy and sad in the middle. With one finger, Dean traced nonsense patterns against the definitions of Sam's stomach. "I'm sorry." He finally murmured, brushing his lips in little strokes over the fine fuzz of his lover's neck.

Sammy stopped his wandering hand and held in loosely to his stomach, just holding his arm tight. "It's fine, Dean…" there was a little pause and suddenly a shudder wracked through the large frame.

Dean panicked for the second time that day, "What! What's wrong?" he yelped, trying to roll on top of the lean body before the pull reminded him they were still glued together.

"Hahahaaaa—ohgod—hahaha…" Sammy wheezed, "I'm goona-a dieeee!" he laughed, curling in on himself as much as he could. Dean's hand was still clenched against the rippling stomach while he watched in bemusement as his little brother choked all over their crappy motel bed.

"Hey… you okay?" he finally asked when the shakes had died down and only occasional giggles escaped from the smiling mouth.

"I'm fine," Sam grinned, eyes sparkling merrily. "This is actually incredibly funny if you think about it."

"…well…" Dean replied, "I'm glad you're so happy."

The beautiful, familiar face shined with mirth as his mischievous lover said, "I am."

And for that, Dean would suffer through any humiliation… even this.

…this was supposed to be humorous and cracky… it's more like fluff and the very, very out of character Dean and Sam Winchester's. My. God. What was I thinking?

~Amaya13