Pineapple Head

A/N: the title comes from the Crowded House song of the same name.



******

Dean couldn't for the life of him figure out why the hell Sam wanted him to eat so much fruit all of a sudden. And not just fruit; pineapples. If he got a sundae, Sammy would say, “Why don't you get some pineapple topping on that, Dean?” If he ordered the ham plate at a diner, Sam would jump in and say, “Can he have extra pineapple on top?”



After a solid week of Sam pushing pineapples on Dean at every opportunity, Dean finally snapped, “Sammy, what the hell is wrong with you?”



“You don't eat enough fruit, Dean. I'm just trying to save you from scurvy.” Sam's total lack of guile was suspicious in itself.



"You've got scurvy,” Dean muttered.



Later that night, Sam pinned Dean to the bed by his hips and gave him a relentless blow job, despite Dean's struggles to free himself and make Sam stop before he came. He ended up coming so hard that he saw stars and it felt like his backbone had imploded.



Then Sam eeled up Dean's body and whispered, “Taste yourself,” as he kissed Dean.



Dean opened his mouth to Sam. There was a faint undertone of bitterness, overlaid with sweet. Comprehension dawned and he pulled away to look at Sam in the faint light of the room.



“Is this why all the pineapples, Sammy?”



Sam nodded.



“Pineapples can sweeten emissions.” Sam stated.



“Emissions?” Dean mocked, eyebrow raised.



“Shut up, you love it.”



“I don't know, I don't get to taste my own spunk that directly. Let me compare and contrast.” And Dean flipped Sam onto his back to do his own scientific study.



*



Next morning at breakfast, Dean ordered extra pineapple topping on his waffles. When they arrived, he scraped half of it onto Sam's plate. When Sam looked up at him curiously, he said breezily, “You could use a little sweetening, too, Sammy.”