Ok! Here is a fic disclaimer in two parts!
Part 1: I love slodwick. VERY MUCH. Slod is just - Slod's awesome, people. Talented and nice and omg, one of the seriously funniest people you will ever meet. She makes me laugh harder than anyone I know, and I'm lucky EVERY DAY that I know her. Every single day.
Part 2: Sometimes? Bad Things happen in the comments of my post. So one day, I dont remember when, or which post, but ONE DAY, nardasarmy posted links to pictures. And one picture was like, "Sam doing something!" and the other was "Kittens (or ducks, I dont remember which) in love with a paddle boat!" and I looked at it quick and said:
"Oh, HAHA. I thought that said SAM in love with a PADDLE BOAT!"
And then Slod wandered along and said, "THAT! THAT is what I want for my birthday! Sam/paddle boat!"
So. You know. *koff* I will pretty much do anything for my friends.
Posting this today even though her birthday is tomorrow because I will be offline most of tomorrow and Friday. So, you know, HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY, SLOD! I LOVE YOU!! ♥! As for everyone else, erm, sorry? :D
Thanks to strippedpink for the beta!
Title - thy love which is forbidden
Pairing - Sam/paddle boat
Rating - R
Word Count - 2400
Warnings - uhm. do we warn for paddle boat humping? *g*
thy love which is forbidden
Three days into the job, Dean realized what the problem was. They'd tried everything, from salt to bullets to paddling out into the middle of the lake to chant Latin all night long but nothing worked. That was when Dean decided he must have missed something - some key clue or piece of information. He re-checked the journal looking for an answer other than possession, and when he found it, he was annoyed at how easy it was. He should have thought of it sooner.
When he tried to explain it to Sam, though, Sam looked at him like he'd officially gone insane.
"What do you mean, they're not possessed, they're magic?"
Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm not speaking English to you? They're magic, Sam. Magic--"
"Koi fish. Right. I thought that's what you said." Sam ran a hand through his hair and flopped down in the bed. "You realize how crazy that sounds, right?"
Dean shrugged. "No crazier than anything else we've done."
At least the cabin they were in was nice. The job itself was a bust, but hell. If they were going to bust a job, let it be at a cushy upstate New York resort, was what Dean always said. The place even came with a fully stocked kitchen. Most places they stayed at they were lucky to get clean towels; this one had food. Bonus.
"Magic fish are for the best anyway, Sam." Dean pulled the journal from his duffel bag and tried to ignore the crazy look Sam was giving him. Dean was relatively sure he hadn't just sprouted a second head, regardless of what Sam's look was accusing him of. "I mean, come on. Can you imagine trying to exorcise an entire lake full of possessed koi fish with hundreds of little kids and families around? How much would that have sucked?" It made sense. Really. "Now all we have to do is wait for night fall, head down to the lake, give it a little hocus pocus, and then--"
"And then the lake turns from purple back to blue…" Sam said slowly, working it out in his head.
Dean nodded. "Yahtzee. Then the curse is over and we can head off on our way to go find some real evil. It's perfect." Dean resisted the urge to lick his finger and score a point for himself in the air. He was right. He knew he was right. Sam was just going to have to deal.
"Fine," Sam said on a long-suffering sigh. "What does dad's journal say about magic fish?"
Dean shoved Sam's feet over and sat on the edge of the bed. He flipped through the pages of the journal, and traced their dad's spiky handwriting with his finger until he found the paragraph he needed. "Wait for full dark, stand on the edge of the body of water, say a few things, blah blah blah, then bam. Happy little fish and we can get the hell out of here."
"That's it?" Sam leaned up on his elbows and nudged Dean's hip with his foot.
Dean checked the rest of the page, and yep. That was all it said. Other than-- "Well. You can't touch anything while you're facing the lake." Which was weird. Not touch anything? Some spells were made by crazy people, Dean was sure of it.
"Not even the ground? Are we supposed to float?"
"No, dumbass" Dean shoved Sam's foot. How was his brother such a pain? "No inanimate objects. We have to say the spell and turn around fast before we touch anything else."
Dean shot Sam a look and slapped the book closed. "Because that's what the journal says, Sam. What are you, four? Why, why, why," Dean mimicked.
Sam flipped him the bird and leaned back into the pillows. "Our lives are fucked up," he said simply.
Dean couldn't argue. Instead he yanked Sam's sock off for no reason and tossed it across the room. Sam sputtered and Dean laughed. His brother was so easy to piss off sometimes.
"Come on, twinkletoes," Dean said around a grin. "Get changed and let's head down to the lake.
They waited until dinner was over and all the resort activities were closed off for the night. No more picnics, fire pits or group volleyball games. It was almost ten, and Dean had had it with all the sharing and caring these people seemed to be obsessed with.
The edge of the lake bubbled purple and black over the toes of their boots. They were standing at the edge of the dock, and across the lake Dean could see glowing koi fish jumping from the water, leaping clear across the lake. Fucking bizarre.
"So, what now?" Sam asked. He shifted uneasily next to Dean until the sleeves of their jackets brushed together. "We just say the spell and that's it?"
"Say the spell and turn around real fast, Sammy. Don't touch anything." Dean hated spells like this. He didn't mind his evil when it was clear-cut: do this and this happens, don't do that or the other thing happens. None of this, don't touch something or who knows! It's a magical mystery spell! God. Dean hated ones like that.
Dean clutched the journal tight in his hands, and started reciting the words from the page, soft and sure. Sam joined in after a minute, and Dean tilted the book toward him so they could both read in the dim moonlight. The longer they read, the higher the fish jumped. The night was filled with the sound of hundreds of splashing fish, all shooting themselves out from the water with a screech, before falling back in with a wet slap.
"It's working," Sam shouted over the sounds of the fish. Dean looked down and sure enough, the water was changing color before his eyes, clearing up, the darkness shifting into a shimmering, clear blue. Dean kept reading even as Sam backed up, still facing forward, hands at his sides for balance.
"Sam, just watch where you--" Dean started, but then everything seemed to move in slow motion. Dean spun around as quickly as he could, careful not to touch anything. He watched Sam turn toward him, but then he tripped, stumbled, and before Dean could move quick enough to try and grab Sam's hand or arm, Sam was falling chest first into one of the paddle-boats tied to the bottom of the dock.
"Shit, Sammy!" Dean lunged forward to grab his brother. "You're not supposed to touch anything!"
"I know, Dean. Goddammit." Sam cursed and pushed himself up from the boat, shaking out his arms and legs. He looked up at Dean and blinked nervously. "Well? What happened?"
Dean checked Sam's face, made him turn around. "It doesn't look like anything," he finally told him. No horns or antlers or wings, at least. "You feel okay?"
"I feel fine." Sam patted his chest, ran a hand through his hair.
Dean was happy that for once, the journal seemed to have gotten something wrong.
"Come on," Dean said gruffly, grabbing Sam by the wrist. "Let's get back to the room."
Sam nodded and trailed after him. If Dean had to tug him a little harder than usual to leave the dock, he didn't notice it. Sam was fine, the spell was broken. Everything was normal, as far as Dean could tell.
When Dean woke up three hours later, he immediately knew Sam wasn't in the room.
"Ah, Jesus." Something had to have happened. Dean didn't feel worried; he knew when Sam was in trouble and this definitely wasn't the same feeling. This was more of a, Oh, God, what did you get yourself into now feeling.
Dean pulled his jeans and boots back on and shrugged into his leather jacket. It was the middle of the night and freezing, even in the early spring. Freaking upstate mountain area. Always too damn cold as far as he was concerned.
He walked back to the lake, figuring if something happened, this would be where the spell would bring Sam. Dean stepped over the line of bushes to bring him back to the dock, and when his vision cleared and he saw Sam he stopped short.
His brother was in his sweatpants, curled up in the bottom of the paddle-boat he'd fallen in. He was sleeping - Dean could hear him snoring from where he stood - and looked like there wasn't anything wrong in the world, sleeping outside, in the middle of the night, in a paddle-boat.
Dean rolled his eyes and stalked over, shaking Sam's shoulder. "Dude. Get up."
Sam shot straight up, wide awake. "What? What?" He looked around, licking his lips in confusion. "Dean, what the hell did I--"
"I have no idea, Sammy," Dean said, gently helping Sam to his feet. Sam followed him without an argument, tossing a few quick looks back over his shoulder toward the boat. "Now come on. Let's get back to bed," Dean told him.
When Dean woke up two hours later and Sam was gone again, he rubbed a hand over his face and headed straight back to the dock. This was ridiculous. He shook Sam's shoulder until Sam woke up again, blinking and confused.
"I have no idea, Sammy." Dean pulled him to hit feet, having to tug a little harder to get Sam to follow him. Sam was strong when he wanted to be. "Dude, come on."
"Yeah. I--" Sam trailed off, staring at the boat. He seemed to force his head around and pulled his arm from Dean's grasp. "I got it," Sam spat.
"Could've fooled me," Dean muttered.
Sam stalked off and Dean followed, tossing one, semi-worried look over his shoulder. That paddle-boat was starting to freak him out.
When it happened the third time, Dean had had enough.
"All right, Sam," he said, waking Sam from another sound sleep in the well of the boat. "What the fuck is going on?"
"I don't know." Sam sat straight up, but this time he didn't move, didn't climb out. Just sat in the seat of the boat and slowly ran his hands over the inside of it. When he looked up at Dean his eyes were shining. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"Isn't what beautiful?" Dean crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn't thrilled with the weird look Sam was giving him.
Sam's hands traced over the inside of the boat again, long fingers moving almost reverently over the edge of the seat. "This," he practically whispered.
Dean blinked. What the hell? "The boat?"
"I want to stay in it forever," Sam said quietly. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, a blissed out expression on his face. "I don't think I ever want to leave."
Which was too goddamned bad, as far as Dean was concerned. He didn't care if he had to toss Sam bodily over his shoulder and carry him out of this damn place, he'd get Sam to stop making googly eyes at a fucking paddle boat if it was the last thing he ever did.
"Oh, you're leaving, Sammy boy." Dean's tone booked no argument, and he reached down and yanked at Sam's wrist.
Sam bared his teeth and pulled his arm back. "No."
"Yeah, you are," Dean argued and tugged again.
"No, Dean, I'm staying."
Dean took a deep breath. Obviously, Sam was deranged. "No," he said as calmly as he could. "You're not."
In the end, dragging Sam out of the boat was exactly what he had to do. He wasn't proud of kicking his brother in the balls to accomplish what he needed to, but Dean didn't have any other choice. By the time Sam had curled his fingers around the foot pedals, whimpering, "But I love it, Dean! I love it!" Dean had had e-fucking-nough.
In the end, the spell was broken as quickly as it was cast. Dean waited until the following nightfall, and followed Sam down to the dock when Sam thought he wasn't looking. His little brother thought he was stealth. Ha. Dean was going to kick his fucking ass when the spell was broken just for thinking he could outwit Dean. The fucker.
By the time Dean cleared the line of bushes, Sam was already curled up in the paddle-boat, whispering softly and - oh, god - moaning.
"Yeah, baby, Just like that. Paddle me just like--"
If Dean lived to be a hundred and fifty, he would never get the sight of Sam face down, hips pumping slowly, into the goddamned seat of the paddle boat, scrubbed from his brain. Never.
He quickly closed his eyes, and rattled off a Latin spell he'd committed to memory which roughly translated into: Oh holy fuck, please make my brother stop humping a boat seat, and with a crack of thunder and a sudden gust of wind, all of a sudden, Sam stopped.
Stopped dead. The only way Dean knew he was actually still alive, was from the way the back of Sam's neck was slowly turning pink under Dean's narrowed gaze.
"Uh. Dean?" Sam asked. His voice was muffled and low.
Dean slapped Sam's bare ass and chuckled. "Yeah, Sammy?"
"What exactly am I--"
"Fucking a boat seat, Sammy," Dean answered with glee. This. Was. Priceless.
Sam swallowed hard, and left his face pressing down against his arm. His voice was muffled when he said, "Can we, uhm, never mention this again?"
Part of Dean wanted to agree. The last thing he wanted to do was relive this experience over and over again. But part of him… . Man. Opportunities like this didn't come up every day.
In the end, Dean compromised.
"Sure, Sam," he said, as genuine as he could manage. He could see Sam take a deep, relaxing breath, and only felt a little guilty as he coughed loud enough to cover the sound of his cell phone's camera snapping a quick picture of Sam, bareassed in the air, licking the dirty seat of a paddle-boat. "We'll never mention it again. Promise."
After all, Dean wasn't that nice of a guy.