The bare necessities

“Which means I’ve got six, maybe seven feet of pissed-off snake to deal with,” Dean concluded.

“Boy, if it was pissed, it’d be biting you. It ain’t, is it?”

“Not yet.” Dean eyed the snake warily. It was just a matter of time, he knew it. Damn thing was lying there, staring at him and hissing.

“So then it ain’t pissed. Probably just about as thrilled about this as you are. So scoop it up, put it in the car, and get your ass back here.”

“If I get bitten and die, I’m coming back to haunt your ass, Bobby.”

“I told you, coachwhips ain’t venomous. Now get going and I’ll have things ready for when you get here.”

With that, Bobby hung up.

Great. Dean was left staring at the snake that was coiled in the pile of clothing that his brother had been wearing until ten minutes ago. It was still staring at Dean. And hissing. Oh shit, and now its tail was vibrating. If this wasn’t one pissed-off snake, it was one pissed-off little brother. Who was now a snake.

Dean just loved his life.

About the only saving grace right now was that Bobby hadn’t yelled at him for being dumb enough to go on a hunt at Lake Kegonsa with his brother. That would wait till he could ream them out face to face, he guessed.

“Well, you heard the man,” Dean said. “Get in the car.”

With a particularly pissy shake of its tail, the snake slithered over towards the Impala, parked at the side of the road. Finding the doors closed it hissed in apparent displeasure and glared at Dean where he was picking up his brother’s clothes.

“You need me to open the door for you? You really are a princess, Princess.”

A very elongated and hissy princess, which was currently coiling its long, long body in a way that appeared to speak of agitation. Or indigestion. Dean opened the rear door and threw Sam’s clothes onto the backseat.

“There you go – your very own, snakey nest.”

Because yes, now the shock was wearing off this was starting to be funny. Just a little bit. Not to mention the blackmail material that was bound to be out there before this little trip to Bobby’s was finished. Dean patted his pocket to check his camera phone was back where it belonged.

The coiling didn’t stop. Neither did the hissing.

“You really think I’m going to let you ride shotgun? You’re a snake, dude! No way I’m letting you get scales all over the seat.”

The snake coiled itself up tightly, and then rested its head on its uppermost coil, eyes staring unblinkingly at Dean in a way that felt unnervingly familiar to him. It had stopped hissing as well.

“Damn it, Sam. I got to pick you up now, don’t I?”

And even if this was Sam, and even if he wasn’t venomous, it didn’t mean Dean really wanted to pick up a snake that was the size of this one. Calling on vague memories of Crocodile Dundee, or maybe it was Boa vs Python ‘cause that was a sequel that almost lived up to the original, Dean took a few careful steps forward – hey, he didn’t want to step on his little brother, after all – and bending down, slid one hand under the snake’s body fairly close to its neck, worked his other hand into the coils and lifted. And fuck, this thing was long. Not just long, but it was also moving.

“Dude, just keep still will you?” Dean was worried about dropping it. Not that he thought it was exactly fragile, but Sammy wouldn’t be too happy to change back to his own body to find he had a broken leg. Or maybe not leg, given the whole snake thing, but broken ribs or something like that would give little brother an excuse to have an epic hissy-fit for at least the next month, and it wasn’t as though Sam needed any excuse at the best of times.

Making sure the whole thing was on the back seat, and safely lying on top of Sam’s clothes – because Dean didn’t know what sort of bodily fluids snakes might release but he wasn’t going to take any chances – he closed the door carefully. He really didn’t want to make a guess about what part of Sam he’d be chopping off if he caught the snake’s tail in the door.

He walked round the car and got into the driver’s side.

“All set, Sammy?” He looked in the rear view as he gunned the engine.

A smug-sounding hiss came from right beside him.

Damn snake was curled up on the front seat next to him, its eyes bright with what looked like satisfaction.

“Yeah, yeah – you see if you’re still smirking like that when I brake hard. S’not as though you’ve got hands or anything to hold on with.”

And didn’t that top a fairly crappy day, talking to a fucking snake.

Especially when the fucking snake responded by wrapping a couple of coils securely around Dean’s right arm.

**********

He could have kept going through the night, but hell, it had been a long day and then there was the whole my brother’s a snake thing. It wasn’t creeping him out at all, having it sitting there happily watching him from unblinking eyes. Well, Dean had to admit that he’d made the happy bit up. He had no idea what Sam thought about the day’s events, but at least Sam wasn’t the one stuck with a big-ass snake in the front seat. A big-ass snake that had slowly wrapped itself round Dean’s waist as he drove. It was a steady presence he could feel through his shirt that might have been quite nice if it hadn’t been a damn snake.

A little before nine he pulled into a motel courtyard that had its vacancy sign lit. Sam returned to his side of the seat when the engine stopped, and for the next couple of minutes as he booked in Dean was able to pretend that everything was normal. That he had 6'4" plus of pissy little brother waiting for him in the car, rather than – oh hey, well whaddaya know? Some things never really change.

He called Bobby to let him know they’d be with him late afternoon the next day, and got a lecture on how to look after Sam (man knew his snakes). Seemed from what Bobby said that Sam was going to be almost as much trouble as a snake as he was as a little brother. Then he got his duffle out of the trunk, emptied the contents of Sam’s into the trunk – intensive conditioner to tame flyaway hair, what the hell, Sammy? – and put the empty bag onto the driver’s seat, where Sam slithered into it without even a hiss. It was so unlike Sam not to question or object that it made Dean twitchy, but he decided to deal with it once they were both safely in the room with the door locked against curious motel clerks who might be wondering just why Dean’s second duffle was squirming as he carried it in.

He’d ended up getting a king-size just in case Sam came back as swiftly as he disappeared, even though Bobby had muttered about rituals, and remembered at the last instant not to throw the bags onto the bed as he normally did. Instead he put the one containing Sam down carefully, and unzipped it. Damn, but that was one hell of a big snake that poured itself out of the bag and onto the middle of the bed. It might be pretty skinny, but it was long.

The armchair was about as uncomfortable as the bed looked but for the price Vincent Furnier’s credit card was paying, he could hardly complain. He sat there and looked at the snake, which looked back at him.

He kinda missed Sam. Not just because they’d fucked up the hunt so awesomely that he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, but because there was only so much self-entertaining a man could do. And no way was he going out looking for a bar in this town and leaving Kaa on his own in here.

“You hungry?”

Sam’s expression didn’t change.

“Pizza? Chinese? Rodents? Baby birds?”

At that, Sam raised his head and his tongue flickered out.

“Dude, you are not eating any little baby birds! And no rabbits, either.”

The snake’s head lowered again.

“Rats, though. Yeah, you can go kill some rats.”

The look from those dark staring eyes was uncannily reminiscent of his little brother’s best bitchface. In fact, he could almost swear he could see the scales of the snake’s forehead furrowing and hear the huff that escaped Sam whenever he was particularly pissed before the snake slithered down the leg of the bed and over towards the door, where it coiled and uncoiled restlessly. Pissy or not, Dean didn’t really want it going anywhere. Even staring at a snake that only stared back was better fun than staring at the four walls of a motel room.

“Hang tight there, sparky. I don’t want anybody out there thinking they’re on a plane and blowing your motherfucking head off.”

Huh. Who knew snakes could sigh? He watched as its head lowered, its chin resting on the smooth coils of its body as it stared at him.

“Enough with the staring already. At least blink or something. And yes, I know snakes don’t have eyelids but still. Cut it out, Sam.”

The snake did at least turn is head away, though he could have sworn there was a smirk on its face as it did so.

“Listen, you ate at lunchtime, yeah? So maybe you don’t need to eat again until we get to Bobby’s tomorrow. You really hungry?”

The snake simply took itself back across the floor and up the leg of the bed, where it curled back up in the middle of the comforter.

“Guess we’ll just kick back and you can watch me have some pizza, huh?”

Dean’s evening was suddenly looking brighter again. He could just chill with a beer and some pizza and his kid brother. His kid brother who, by the way, couldn’t talk back to him. Life didn’t get much better than this.

**********

He was right. It didn’t get much better than chowing down on the big-ass pizza the delivery boy brought and throwing the odd bit of pineapple to Sam (because God, what kind of sick bastard put pineapple on pizza?), after finding a reptile marathon on Discovery channel.

“Look Sammy - porn! Which of those snakes does it for you, Sammy? Huh?”

That was fun, till the documentary where Dean discovered that snakes have two dicks. At that point the smug smirk on that damn snake’s face was more than a man should have to put up with. Dean managed to find a channel that was showing Anaconda before he went in the shower. Wouldn’t be his fault if the film left Sam with an inferiority complex now, would it? If definitely wasn’t his fault that snakes couldn’t work TV remotes either.

Taking out the soggy towel he’d used to block the drain so he could fill the shower tray for Sam earlier, Dean turned on the shower and stripped off, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. It wasn’t as though Sam could bitch about it. His satisfaction at that thought faded when he stood under the spray and let the warm water pound some of the day’s stress out of his body. Not that he wasn’t having an awesome time with Sam unable to answer back, but it was kinda quiet. It wasn’t quite the same somehow.

It wasn’t quite the same to come into the shower and know that Sam wouldn’t put the laptop to one side in the other room after a while and come join him. There’d be no words spoken at first, almost as though it wasn’t happening, but Sam’s freakishly large hands would move over Dean, the rough calluses on his fingers that caught against Dean’s skin at other times as smooth as silk through the soap lather as they moved over Dean’s body. And nothing would be said until Sam breathed Dean’s name softly against his ear and used his body to push Dean out of the direct spray of the shower till he was bracing himself against a tiled wall, where Sam’s long fingers, slick with soap, would open him up. Where Sam’s body would be wet and warm against Dean’s as he slid deep inside him.

Fuck it, he’d had to think of that, hadn’t he. Dean ended up with one hand braced against the off-white tiles while he jerked himself off with the other, all the time carefully not thinking of how Sam liked to say filthy things into his ear while he fucked him, telling Dean all the things he was going to do to him – things Dean didn’t even think Sam had known about until he found out otherwise. And all the time he’d be pushing deep into Dean, his low voice fucking Dean’s ear just the way his cock was fucking his ass, slow and dirty and so fucking good. He came hard and fast, with Sam’s name on his lips. But there was no Sam, warm against his back, hot and deep inside him. He turned the shower off and got out, grabbing a towel. Sam would be back to normal tomorrow.

What with the steam and the water dripping into his eyes from his wet hair, he nearly trod on the snake. Damn thing was lying in the middle of the bathroom floor, head alertly high, tongue flickering, and watching Dean. Well of course it was watching Dean. It was always fucking watching Dean with those fucking staring eyes that were nothing like Sam’s.

“Damn it – can’t a man get some privacy round here?”

He tied the towel round his waist – no way that damn thing was getting more of an eyeful than it already had – and stomped into the bedroom. Anaconda was just getting to the good part, but he somehow didn’t have the heart for anything else to do with snakes. He’d go to bed and then it would be morning and he could get rid of this fucking snake and get his brother back.

It was way too hot for a comforter, and he might have some sort of conscience about his brother the snake – heh, it was kinda funny – so Dean pulled the comforter off the bed and puddled it into a pile on the floor. The snake looked at him, and immediately slithered up the leg of the bed and lay in the middle of the sheets. If Sam had been a cat – and just how fucked was Dean’s life that that was a possibility? – Dean just knew he’d have started washing himself.

“Get off there, Sam.”

It had never worked for Dad. Why Dean thought that barking orders would work just because Sammy was a snake was really beyond him.

“Look, I don’t want to roll on top of your scaly ass in the night and crush you, ‘kay?”

Sam raised his head, and stared at Dean. Not that Dean could really tell this brand of staring apart from all the others but he got the feeling Sam was checking out if Dean was telling the truth. And maybe he was right, because Sam finally got his scaly ass back down off the bed and curled up on top of the comforter.

With a sigh of relief, Dean dumped the towel on the floor next to the comforter, got into bed and turned off the light. In the faint glow coming in through the curtains from streetlights he thought he could just make out the snake’s eyes glittering.

“Night Sam.”

He was met with silence. Pulling the sheet up round his shoulders, Dean turned over, thumped the pillow, and willed himself to go to sleep. Getting Sam back to normal would be a walk in the park to Bobby. It would only be another few hours and then Dean would be wondering why the hell he’d been in such a hurry to get his pain in the ass little brother back.

**********

Dean had been having an awesome dream. Sam was intent on waking him up in the best way possible, those big hands of his busy on Dean’s body, one of them wrapped round his cock, getting him ready for the hot wetness of Sam’s mouth that was just bound to follow. The nicest thing about the dream was that Dean was pretty sure he was awake, given that there was light leaking in through his eyelids, and it was still going. Sam had one hand on his cock, slow, maddening strokes, while the other was exploring his ass, and the other was – woah. Hang on just a minute there.

Dean’s eyes snapped open fully and he sat bolt upright. He did not shriek. He emphatically did not shriek. He might have yelled, but that was perfectly understandable given that he had the best part of a six foot something snake curled up on him, its coils happily rubbing his cock awake and its tongue still flickering against his ear. He fought clear of the sheet, but the snake wasn’t going to slide off him quite so easily.

“Get off me, you giant scaly freak!”

While the giant scaly freak obediently stopped that maddening tongue flutter thing it had going on, though not before it had done so over that spot on Dean’s neck, lifting its head up seemed to involve it having to move the rest of its body, which meant that there was some very stimulating friction going on against Dean’s ever more interested cock.

“Sam, that’s just – you can’t. This is sick, dude. You-”

Dean stuttered and lost whatever he’d been about to say as the snake’s coils continued moving, the long smooth body pressing itself up between Dean’s legs and stroking deliciously against his balls. He wouldn’t have been human if his legs hadn’t opened in response. And he was so not thinking about being human or not when he had a fucking snake crawling all over him, wrapping itself around his cock.

The snake wasn’t even particularly cold, which led Dean to wonder just how long it had been lying on top of him, touching him. Touching him just like that, rippling coils round his right thigh and that long slender tail stroking the smooth skin behind his balls, tantalising…

“God, Sam. Don’t – please –“

Words he’d said before, a year ago, when Sammy decided just what it was he wanted. Words which Sam had ignored then, just the way he was ignoring them now. Because he knew Dean didn’t mean them, was saying them because he thought he ought to.

Sam was flexing now, teasingly gentle, maddeningly light, round Dean’s cock and it was then Dean knew he couldn’t – didn’t want to - fight any more. He opened his legs further still, giving Sam access to whatever he wanted, as he lay back against the pillow with a stifled groan. And it was what Sam had been waiting for, because suddenly he was everywhere: smooth belly rubbing against Dean’s nipples, both at once while he wrapped himself closer around Dean’s cock, squeezing gently until Dean was pushing his hips up into the tightness, fucking his brother’s coils and reaching blindly, desperately behind him for something to cling to, till his hands found the edge of the wooden bed head. He held on to it, muscles straining as he opened himself to Sam, and high-pitched noises forced themselves out of his throat. Noises that he’d never, ever made before. Though to be fair, he’d never before had his balls licked at the same time as his ass was played with and his cock was stroked and his nipples were rubbed.

He was pushing up into Sam’s hold, the friction almost enough, almost – and then Sam’s tongue flickered around his ass and Dean lost it. With a sob that might have been a curse or might have been Sam’s name, he came so hard that all he could do afterwards was lie there shaking, his chest heaving for breath. He was vaguely aware of Sam’s head nudging against his chin, and of the way Sam slid through the cum on Dean’s body before slithering off him.

“Fuck, Sammy,” he said, arm over his eyes. Because that…. Yeah.

When he steadied enough to look at Sam, he found his little brother had coiled himself round, stuck his head under one of the coils and, to all intents and purposes, gone to sleep.

Dean couldn’t help but reach out and run his hand lightly along the part of the curved body that was closest. He so wasn't thinking about this. Not at all. Because if he did, he wouldn't know which possibility he should be more worried about: that Sam might want more of this, or that he might not.

Just in case, Dean decided that when they did finally leave for Bobby’s, they’d take the scenic route.