Work Text:
The camera’s serene view from the foot of the empty bed is suddenly interrupted by a dark blur and a yelp. Two bodies crash down, bouncing as they settle. The audio picks up low chuckles from both in front of and behind the camera.
Sam sits up first, smoothing the front of his tee as he grins down at Dean, who’s still huffing a bit where he lays flat on the mattress. Dean’s dressed surprisingly nicely, in a suit jacket and green tie, which he reaches up to loosen at his neck.
"Why don’t you tell everyone what this is about, Dean?" Castiel’s disembodied voice asks. Dean’s head tilts up to smile lopsidedly at the camera.
"It’s Friday. I had my presentation.”
“And how did it go?”
“…They loved it.” Dean’s head falls back as he grins, and he lifts a hand to run through his hair. “Well, everybody except for, y’know, him, but… they all loved it. I got the greenlight to start implementation as soon as the team is organized.”
The three don’t tend to share many details about their off-camera lives. Nobody knows exactly where they live, or where they work, though Dean’s part of a marketing department for some big company. Sam is a legal advisor, and Cas is a part-time professor, part-time volunteer-at-random-places. Their occasional “Post-Work Relaxation” videos tend to be fan favorites, since the men usually appear in their business attire, at least when the camera first starts rolling. Clothing tends to disappear the longer the video runs.
“Dean was really busy with this project all week,” Sam says as he reaches down to finish unknotting Dean’s tie for him. “Staying up late, getting up early, spending a lot of extra time at the office. We feel like we’ve barely seen him.”
A low mumble of, “Missed you too,” almost gets lost by the camera, but Sam’s expression toward Dean warms visibly.
“So,” Sam continues, “he deserves some love after all that work, don’t you think?” He grins at the camera, then stretches up toward the headboard. A set of black leather cuffs appears from where they must have been hidden behind the pillows, attached to a single strap that trails behind them. Dean’s arms raise willingly above his head, and Sam cinches his wrists in. The camera shifts to move out of Sam’s way when he scoots down off the bed and grabs Dean behind the knees to pull him forward until the strap goes taut. Dean’s lower legs dangle off the end of the mattress, and the camera repositions itself to get a nice view up his body from there.
Dean’s cheeks are glowing a bit pink as he twists his hands, settling into the cuffs. He tilts his chin down to watch Sam’s large hands undo the line of buttons from his collar to his waist. Dean’s belt buckle gets released as well so Sam can pop the button of his pants and pull out the tails of his shirt. The open dress shirt and dark jacket get shoved off to the sides to bare Dean’s torso, and Dean wriggles a bit when Sam’s thumbs hook into the loosened waist of his pants to push them down an inch or two. He’s all beautifully toned skin from his neck all the way down to the now-visible waistband of his boxers, stretched a bit between the pull of the strap at his wrists and the weight of his legs off the end of the bed.
Castiel makes himself known behind the camera again. “We’ve hardly touched you all week, haven’t we?”
Dean nibbles his lip and shakes his head.
“And whose fault is that?”
A glare from Dean makes the camera jiggle a little as Cas laughs. “Okay, we know it wasn’t your fault. You’re a busy man with a lot of responsibilities.”
“Damn right,” Dean mutters.
Sam chimes in where he’s settled himself next to Dean’s body. “Don’t worry, we’re going to make it allllllll up to you.” He drags a finger from Dean’s tattoo below his open collar (which their fans have latched onto with almost alarming focus since discovering that Sam has a matching one) down his chest and stomach to his hip. Dean twitches and smiles.
And then it begins. Sam’s fingers dance in well-practiced coordination over the expanse of Dean’s belly, making him squirm and press his head back the way he always does when he’s trying not to laugh right away. Dean is definitely the most stubborn between the three of them, which usually means any “challenge” videos they do with him tend to run longer than Sam’s or Castiel’s. Not like the fans ever complain, of course. This isn’t an instance of one of those, but it seems to be Dean’s habit to try to hold out for at least a little bit before cracking.
The crack happens fairly quickly. Sam’s got his fingers crooked into lobster claws, and in the space of two kneads at Dean’s hipbones, Dean bursts into laughter. His hips were established early on as his top sweet spot, and the video comments always beg for more exploitation. Sam continues to squeeze, and Dean’s knees hitch up as his pelvis twists from side to side before Sam puts a stop to that by shoving his legs back down. The camera twitches once, then settles back into place, and Sam gets to use both hands again while Dean’s legs stay down. Castiel must be helping somehow.
Dean’s laughter jumps when Sam leans in and nips at his belly. Sam, Dean, and Cas all have noticeably different body types, and some viewers have favorites. Lots of them love Sam’s muscle definition, and a good number express the desire to faint whenever Castiel’s hips and legs are on display, but Dean’s midsection has a rabid following. He’s softer than the other two, still clearly in shape but with a smoother rather than chiseled finish. Dean has been known to scoff when he sees comments using the term “pudge,” but there’s an amused glint when he rolls his eyes. And he never hesitates to flash his tummy with a little smirk whenever the excuse arises.
Sam’s tongue is clearly visible as it flicks a meandering path toward Dean’s belly button. Dean writhes under those tormenting fingers and tongue, his laughter coming in shorter, quicker bursts that could nearly be considered giggles when Sam’s fingers tickle inward from his hips and scritch the low center of his abdomen.
“I think I know what he might like.” Castiel’s voice carries over Dean’s mirth. “Something sweet after a long work week.”
Sam looks up toward the camera. “Yeah?” he smiles. Dean starts bucking weakly, a giggly stream of “no no no” interspersing with his laughter.
“Something tasty.”
“Mmm.” Sam turns back into Dean’s belly, burying his nose in the soft navel. The audio is muffled but it sounds like he mutters “delicious” as he nuzzles in. A loud vibrating noise suddenly overwhelms everything else, at least until Dean’s shriek catches up.
Sam blows another raspberry, another, another, another, another, while Dean cackles and pulls on his bound wrists, his elbows knocking together over his face.
“Can’t see your beautiful face, Dean,” Cas admonishes.
Dean swears at him, which sounds entirely unintimidating coming from a gasping, laughing, disheveled wreck of business casual. Sam suddenly pops up from Dean’s stomach, and there’s practically a visible lightbulb snapping on over his head. He stops the relentless spidering of his fingers, which hasn’t otherwise let up since the raspberries started, and reaches up to guide Dean’s elbows back down alongside his head. Sam drops a brief kiss at his jaw in consolation.
“We need to be able to see you,” Sam says teasingly, “but you don’t have to see us, you know.” He smirks as he pulls the abandoned length of Dean’s necktie out from the rumpled remains of the shirt collar at his neck.
Dean’s pleading look is theatrical as he pants up at Sam. “Really?” he groans.
“Oh yeah.”
In short order, the tie is fastened over Dean’s eyes as a blindfold, Sam starts nibbling at his belly again, and Dean’s laughter begins anew.