COM: Old Scraps

Motion caught Sam's attention out of the corner of his eye, and he sent a flat look towards his older brother. "What the hell is it this time," he sighed, resigned to Dean's constant fidgets.

In all fairness, the giant had never learned restraint like Sam had. Growing up in the wilderness, alone and abandoned mistakenly by his family, Dean had made do on his own. He'd survived against all odds, managing to not become the monster he was slated to become by the witch who cursed him.

Changed into a giant, separated from his family, simply assumed that he would lose touch with humanity and go feral.

Instead, years later Sam had stumbled across him while hunting for a giant, who had been hunting for the actual monster in the area, following his own code of morals to help people, even those that condemned him.

Dean froze under Sam's scrutiny, his pinky in the corner of his mouth worrying something there. He slowly removed it, his ears faintly flushed.

"Just... something in my teeth," he muttered, turning away from Sam.

"Hey!" Sam didn't like the look on Dean's face. More self-conscious than normal. He slid off the hood of the Impala, leaving his laptop open next to his bag and forgetting about both promptly.

Anyone that came out here to steal a laptop out from under a giant's nose had another thing coming.

"What's the matter?" Sam put his hands on his hips, briefly feeling like he was occasionally scolding a kid when Dean started acting oddly.

Dean glanced at him, fiddling absently with his hands in his lap. "That's it," he protested stubbornly. "Got something stuck in my teeth, can't get it out." He flared out his fingers and wiggled them at Sam. "See?"

None of the fingernails were more than nubs, and Sam had a sudden realization that Dean, without access to a lot of quality of life items, likely chewed them short if they got too long. As such, he was left without a nail to help him free-- whatever it was.

Sam sighed. I'm going to regret this.

He gestured for Dean to get down to his level. "Lemme see."

Dean lit up, then his face darkened with suspicion. "Really? You're okay with that?"

Sam shrugged. "Unless you've got any branches lying around for toothpicks. Should be a piece of cake. But don't," he held up a finger commandingly, "move."

Dean nodded, eyes wide. He shifted in place, and Sam braced himself for the usual rumbles in the ground when his giant brother moved. This time, it was closer than normal.

Dean's massive forearm landed on the ground less than five feet from Sam, and Dean lay flat, placing his chin across his wrist for support and stretching his mouth open wide. His other hand pointed at the offending tooth. "Eee it?"

Sam only jolted a little at the cavernous mouth as it opened wide, once more reminded that his older brother was large enough to fit him in his mouth with room to spare. The teeth that ringed the edges gleamed in the sunlight, wet and slick.

Trying to ignore Dean's sharp canines hanging overhead-- Were they always that prominent? Sam found himself wondering-- he leaned over the bottom lip, placing one hand on a broad tooth. The entire mouth moved as Dean reflexively flinched, as unprepared to have someone leaning into his mouth as Sam was to be in his mouth.

"Dude, quit it!" Sam snapped, a trickle of sweat dripping down his forehead.

Whatever Dean might have said in return was lost to a deep rumble that came from deeper down the cavern Sam was leaning into, and he blanched. Unaware of his stomach grumbling at him over having what it thought of as food in his mouth and not eating it, Dean couldn't stifle a chuckle at the completely flustered tone Sam had in his voice.

The chuckle sent Sam off balance, and he tumbled onto his side, landing shoulder-first against the muscular tongue filling the mouth.

"Ug, gross!" he yelled up at the top of Dean's mouth, hurriedly squirming to the tooth that had started out as his goal. "You owe me, jerk!"

The chuckles slowly died down, but the damage was done. Sam's tan jacket was getting soaked in saliva, and his bangs were drenched and plastered to his face, but he kept focused. Finding the offending bit of food, he unsheathed his silver knife and carefully worked it between the teeth to tug it out.

Whatever it was, it was long past recognition. Sam gave one good yank and tossed it out of Dean's mouth. "Got it!" he called up triumphantly.

Before Sam could pull himself out to go dry off, the floor lurched under him. "Dean!" he shouted, clinging to the first thing he could-- the teeth close by-- as the entire world dropped away outside.

More chuckles came, then two large fingers worked their way into the mouth, gently curling around Sam's waist and pulling him out.

Soaked and displeased, Sam glared at Dean in return for his abrupt movements, begrudgingly hanging onto the fingertips.

"Jackass," he griped, trying to push his bangs out of his eyes.

Dean arched his eyebrows, taking in Sam's condition. "Looks like I make you wet, Sammy," he joked with a grin.

Sam huffed at the childish joke. "Can I go back to work now?" he complained.

Dean worked a finger onto Sam's head, messing up the hair worse than a cowlick. "I suppose," he said with a gleam in his eyes, lowering Sam carefully back down.

Sam flipped him off before flopping onto the Impala and groaning at the mess he was in. He was going to need a shower.

Bad.