Chapter Text
One minute, Sam was sitting at the kitchen table in the bunker drinking a cold beer and watching his brother hovering by the stove. Dean was singing some Metallica song to himself while he stirred lasagna noodles for their dinner, wearing a pink apron with ruffles that no one but Sam was allowed to see. The next minute, Sam was spinning in a circle, tightly bound and hanging from the ceiling like a bat in a cave. He struggled against the ropes until he glanced at his feet and saw the ground beneath him glowing like liquid fire. Shit. Where the fuck was Dean? After completing a full revolution, Sam spotted his brother about two feet away, also suspended and spinning.
Relief and terror warred inside him. Dean was here, within touching distance, but he was dangling from a rope over a molten lake that would kill him instantly if his frantic efforts to wriggle out of his bindings succeeded. They’d both been tied up so many times in the past that freeing themselves from various types of restraints was usually a cakewalk. But here, in what appeared to be an underground cavern, the only way out was falling into a pool of lava. That didn’t seem like the smartest plan.
“Dean,” Sam hissed. “Stop! Look down.”
Dean gasped when he saw the lava. Then he looked up at Sam, quickly surveying his brother for damage. It was his automatic reaction in a situation like this. When Dean’s eyes swept over his entire body, stopped at his crotch and widened, Sam’s stomach dropped. He tried to move his hand between his legs to make sure his package was still intact, a pure reflex response. But his arms were tied behind his back. The only thing he could do was inspect himself visually to determine that no damage had been done. All was well for now, at least with his genitalia. Thank God. Or Hail Satan. Whatever let him keep his balls.
“You’re naked,” Dean stage whispered.
The expression of shock on his brother's face was so exaggerated that Sam almost laughed. But his amusement quickly turned to embarrassment when Dean kept staring at his dick. Feeling himself blush, Sam noticed that his brother was naked too and trussed up in ropes like the pork tenderloin he'd cooked last Christmas using his favorite Barefoot Contessa recipe. He was also covered in oil, and the ropes that made escape impossible were secured in a way that highlighted all of Dean's best features. Especially his ass, Sam observed as his brother continued to spin. Holy shit. Even pushing thirty-five, Dean still had it going on.
Who’d ever snatched and bound them clearly agreed because the ropework was intricate and intentionally drew the eye to certain parts of Dean’s anatomy. This was not simply about restraint. Dean could've passed for the star of an arthouse bondage film. Though Sam had never been into BDSM, he was starting to appreciate its appeal. His older brother made everything look good. With grudging admiration, Sam assessed their captor’s handiwork. Each major muscle group of Dean’s beautiful body was cleverly accentuated by the ropes, transforming him into an exquisite piece of erotic art.
It was a meticulous arrangement. Sam clenched his fists as he thought about some sick fuck stripping Dean to study his body and touching him all over to bind him this way. It must’ve taken hours. Who knew what that pervert had done to Dean while he was naked and helpless? Come to think of it, how long had they been unconscious? Anything could've happened when they'd been knocked out. It was impossible to tell for sure. Sam shivered despite the warmth of this weird cave. According to his geology professor at Stanford, lava pools were quite rare and only formed in the mouths of volcanoes, not subterranean caverns like this one.
Why Sam remembered Dr. Negan’s coma-inducing lectures was a bit of a mystery. Maybe it was the baseball bat the professor kept by his desk for some unknown reason. Or because the dude looked a lot like his father and when John Winchester spoke, you listened. Regardless, Sam realized that only an extremely powerful being could create such an unnatural environment. What kind of twisted predator were they dealing with? Someone who wanted Dean’s ass obviously. And that was not going to happen. No sir. No fucking way. Not on Sam’s watch. He’d kill the bastard first, even if it meant chewing through his own ropes to do it.
“Hello, boys,” a voice echoed through the cave, taunting, familiar and distinctly English, though the man it belonged to claimed to be Scottish.
Crowley. Of course. Who else? In zero seconds flat, Sam’s stress level ratcheted up by a factor of infinity and the perpetual pit of anger in his chest quadrupled in size. His rage was so intense that all he heard was the rapid pounding of his own pulse and everything he saw was tinged in reddish black. Then, almost as suddenly, Dad’s voice was in his ear, commanding him to breathe deeply and slow his heart rate. The first rule in a crisis scenario was not to panic so you could keep your head.
As soon as he tuned back in, Crowley was pointing at him, saying something about a brick shithouse that really pissed Dean off. Sam felt the vein in his right temple throbbing again and grit his teeth, telling himself to focus. But when Crowley made some snarky comment about Dean and BDSM, Sam lost it, threatening to tear the lecherous old creep apart with his bare hands. The moment the words were out of his mouth, Sam knew he’d fucked up and Crowley’s sadistic grin confirmed it. Like a total amateur, he’d walked right into the demon’s trap.
Before Sam had a second to think about the consequences of going postal, Crowley stole his voice. Sam turned towards Dean whose lips moved wordlessly while his skin bloomed with pink blotches. Probably because he was so angry, Sam assumed. But then he read his brother’s face more carefully. Dean definitely looked frustrated, maybe a little confused, too. And ashamed? But that couldn't be right because Sam was the one who'd blown it. Acting like an alpha male douche as if Dean was his boyfr… shit. After all these years of hiding in plain sight, he'd just shown his hand. Dad would be so disappointed. And appalled.
Sam wasn’t sure what his brother saw when they made eye contact, but Dean gave him a soft, sweet smile. Regardless of what Dean suspected about Sam's feelings for him, he didn’t look horrified or disgusted. And that was the only thing that mattered. Well, that and getting out of this cave alive. After they'd killed Crowley. He and Dean stared at each other for a while, and Sam could hear his brother’s words in his head like they’d been spoken aloud. I got your back, Sammy. We’re in this together. Now put on your big boy pants cause it’s time to fuck this dude up.