Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8744713.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Major_Character_Death
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Pre-Canon, First_Time, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Alternate
      Universe
  Collections:
      Sinful_Desire
  Stats:
      Published: 2007-01-02 Words: 2606
****** Here we stand or here we fall, history won't care at all. ******
by sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary
     Pre-series, Sam and Dean are on their own and they have to learn to
     cope.
Notes
     Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally
     archived at Sinful-Desire.org. To preserve the archive, we began
     importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in
     November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted
     announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or
     know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on
     Sinful_Desire_collection_profile.

Author's notes: For just_katarin for the livjournal comm spn_holidays.

Ok, so Amy is to blame be thanked for this… she helped me out a lot… and
wrote some of it for me when I was stuck and stupid… wait, that would mean
she wrote the whole thing! Which she didn’t, but she sure helped a LOT.
Beta’d by the lovely and awesome ellipsisblack (on LJ) who encouraged me with
fic and helpful comments.
Any remaining mistakes are my own fault.
Despite that… none of us could think of a title. For a while there I was
thinking of calling it “Untitled” just to spite it.
Title is from Queen - Hammer To Fall, thanks Amy
===============================================================================
Sam was cooking again. Ever since he'd taken classes he'd spent most of his
spare time cooking. Maybe he was just trying to fill the father - shaped hole
in their lives.
 
Sometimes Dean wished he was older, and smarter, not just some dumb nineteen-
year-old who could handle a gun but not all the emotional things that went with
having a teenage brother. And dead parents.
 
Dean winced at his own thoughts, but sometimes he just felt too overwhelmed.
He’d looked after his younger brother almost his whole life, but at least he’d
had his dad before and now he had to hold down a proper job and pay the bills
as well as look after his brother. Granted, Sam was no longer a child but he
was still young and had all the mood swings and petulance of any other teenager
around.
 
Sam was humming slightly under his breath and Dean stood quietly just outside
the doorway so he could watch him.
 
"How was work?"
 
Dean jumped; he thought he'd been quiet. Sam didn't turn around, just stirred
whatever was cooking on the stove.
 
"It was work, you know." Dean said dismissively, walking into the kitchen and
standing behind his brother. His brother who was slowly catching up with his
height, and would soon be taller than him. The thought made him scowl a little
and he rested his chin on Sam's shoulder like he was trying to force him down.
 
Sam stiffened and then pulled away, then stepped to pick something up, covering
his discomfort.
 
"Is something wrong, Sammy?" Dean frowned as he watched his brother.
 
Sam shook his head, making his long fringe fall into his eyes. He pushed it
away and avoided Dean's eyes.
 
Dean didn’t push it; instead he stepped in close to the stove, "What are you
cooking tonight?"
 
"Just spaghetti.” Sam replied, switching on the kettle and bending to pull out
a large saucepan for water.
 
“Do you want some help?” Dean asked.
 
“No, I’m fine.”
 
“Are you sure?” Dean stepped close to Sam and Sam stood up and turned around,
crashing straight into his brother.
 
“Damn!” Sam cursed as the pot clattered to the ground.
 
They both bent to pick it up and bumped heads. Dean rubbed his and winced
slightly.
 
“Dean, just get out, I can do it!” Sam snapped.
 
Dean pulled back. “Oh… sorry,” he muttered. He picked up the saucepan and
deposited it on the countertop. Then he turned to leave, but at the last minute
grabbed his brother and pinned him against the bench. “What’s going on, Sam?
What’s wrong?” He wasn’t just going to drop the subject when his brother was so
obviously upset.
 
“Nothing, Dean. I just want to be alone right now.” Sam looked away, his hand
fidgeting with the edge of the bench.
 
Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Sam, I believe that. Tell me.”
 
“I can’t. Look, just… God, Dean, just leave me alone!”
 
“No way. Sammy, I’m your brother; you can tell me things.”
 
‘Yeah, you really think so?” Sam snorted and shook his head.
 
“Oh, come on, man, gimme some credit!” Dean was starting to feel exasperated.
Being the only other person in Sam’s life who he was close to was hard at the
best of times but trying to get information out of Sam when he clammed up was
like trying to get blood out of a stone.
 
“Dean. Leave it alone. It’s nothing. Why do you even care?” Sam tried to step
sideways but Dean put his hands down on either side of his younger brother,
trapping him.
 
“Dude, you’re my brother. We gotta stick together.”
 
Sam looked up at him through his fringe and bit his lip. He seemed to reach a
decision and took a deep breath, then raised himself up on his tiptoes and
pressed a brief kiss to Dean’s lips.
 
Dean froze.
 
Sam shrunk back against the counter. “Regretting pressing it now?” He muttered,
hunching in on himself and staring at the floor.
 
Dean blinked for a moment then put his fingers under Sam’s chin and raised it.
“No.” Then leaned down to kiss his brother again.
 
It was dry and warm at first, just the chaste press of lips before Sam’s mouth
slid open and his tongue ventured out shyly and licked at Dean’s lips. Dean let
his mouth open and Sam’s tongue slipped in, caressing Dean’s lightly. His hands
came up and gripped Dean’s shoulders, pulling him closer. After that first
small kiss, done on impulse, Dean had frozen up; he knew in his mind that this
was wrong but his body, his heart was telling him it was right. It felt so
right.
 
Dean still felt confused, but the sensation of Sam’s warm body against his,
Sam’s smaller hands hot on his shoulders and the pressure of his lips against
Dean’s was all together everything Dean had never known he wanted, but he did.
Oh God, he did.
 
Dean rubbed his hips against Sam’s and was rewarded with a small whimper, and
Sam’s hands clutched tighter at Dean’s arms as he kissed him.
 
“Dean?” Sam pulled back just a little. Dean could still felt his small gasps of
breath puffing over his lips; could still almost taste him.
 
“What?” Dean’s eyes were glued to Sam’s mouth, watching it tremble slightly as
Sam tried to think of what to say.
 
“Is… I mean… are we…? Dean is this all right?” Sam stammered.
“What do you think?” Dean didn’t move, gave Sam the space to think.
 
Sam sighed a little. “It sure feels right to me.” Sam smiled tentatively,
pressing himself against Dean again, lifting his mouth to kiss Dean.
 
Dean moved one hand from the bench to trace his fingers over Sam’s hip and Sam
purred, purred into Dean’s mouth and rubbed against him. Dean moved his mouth
from Sam’s and kissed along his jaw, pausing to suck and nibble at the
sensitive skin beneath his ear.
 
Sam moaned and let his head fall back and Dean kissed his way down Sam’s neck.
 
Sam arched and gasped and Dean couldn’t believe how good he looked. Sam was
rubbing his hips against Dean, his cheeks slightly flushed, eyes half closed as
he made small needy sounds in the back of his throat.
 
“It’s okay, Sammy, it’s okay, I got you,” Dean murmured into the hot skin of
his neck.
 
Sam lowered his head and pulled Dean’s chin up and kissed him hard, bucking
against him. His breathing was fast and shallow and he was making small
whimpering noises that let Dean know he was close to the edge.
 
Dean pressed against him, letting their cocks rub together and Sam lost it,
biting on Dean’s lip and coming in his pants.
 
Sam wobbled and Dean grabbed his hips and held him up. Sam smiled shakily at
him.
 
“Woah…” he breathed.
 
He leaned his head against Dean’s shoulder and tried to catch his breath. Dean
smiled into his hair and found himself relaxing muscles he hadn’t known he’d
been holding tense. He felt content and it was a little unnerving - or it would
be if he could bring himself to think about it too closely. When John had died,
he’d thought he’d never feel happy again. It had felt like he had frozen in
that moment when Pastor Jim had called him and told him what had happened.
 
 
**************
 
 
They’d been on a hunt together; Jim taking Dean’s place while he took his
SAT’s. Pastor Jim had phoned on the third day, while Dean had been heating up
some pasta and Dean had known immediately what he was going to say. He’d fallen
against the table and let Jim’s words wash over him as he felt himself freeze
up.
 
“I’m so sorry, Dean. There was more spirits than we’d been expecting – a whole
platoon. They came out of nowhere and…John was trying to keep them off while I
finished the ritual. He kept them off for long enough, but…there were just too
many.”
 
Dean was still sitting on the floor of the kitchen, staring at nothing, when
Sam came in, uttered a curse and turned off the heat under the pasta, which was
burning.
 
“Dean,” he said, “I thought you could at least cook pasta without burning it.”
He’d glared at Dean, and then Dean had looked up, and met his eyes, and Sam had
known.
 
“Oh,” he’d said, sounding just so damned young.
 
 
Pastor Jim and Bobby had come and stayed for a bit, and Pastor Jim had
convinced the authorities to trust Dean to look after Sam, and then helped him
find a job, and the whole time Dean had felt as if he was nothing but ice.
 
 
**************
 
 
Sam pulled away from Dean enough to kiss him, and Dean felt the last cold place
inside him melt.
 
No matter what, he knew they always had each other. A small part of him
clenched tight at that thought, at the thought of what they’d just done, at
what their father would think of what they’d done.
 
But Sam wiggled in his arms and all he could think of was how perfectly they
fit together, at how warm Sam felt against him.
 
 
 
*************************
 
 
Dean ran quickly and quietly up the small concrete pathway that led to their
front door and grabbed Sam around the middle and started tickling him
mercilessly.
 
“D-Dean!” He gasped breathlessly, struggling and writhing under Dean’s hands.
One of his elbows flailed out and caught Dean in the stomach and he let go with
a hurt gasp and double over, holding his middle.
 
Sam pushed him through the front door and glared at him, seeming not to notice
Dean’s discomfort. Dean stumbled over his sneakers and crashed into the wall,
whirling with a scowl on his face to punch Sam on the shoulder.
 
“You’re such a baby, Sam.”
 
Sam laughed and shoved past him, heading for the kitchen. When Dean walked in
he was already munching on cookies and drinking milk from the carton.
 
"Sam! That's fucking gross." Dean complained, jabbing his fingers into Sam’s
side.
 
Sam spluttered slightly and glared at Dean. "Poke me in the ribs again and I'll
spit in your dinner."
 
Dean smirked and pushed him towards the stove. "Dinner, eh?" He looked slyly
over at Sam. "Whatcha makin’, woman?"
 
Sam clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to punch Dean until he passed out.
 
"I was thinking you could make it tonight, sweetie;" he retorted smoothly.
 
“But you make it so much better than me, cos you’re such a good little
housewife.” Dean cooed. He was only teasing but it was true, Sam’s cooking was
always perfect, and Dean was glad to relinquish any cooking duties.
 
“Yeah? I’m sure I’m much better at something else…” Sam grinned wickedly and
pushed Dean up against the counter. He bent and nipped slightly at Dean’s neck,
feeling Dean shiver against him.
 
Dean’s hands came up to grip his waist as he let his head fall back a little,
giving Sam better access. Sam hummed lightly against his warm skin and sucked
hard on the spot where his neck connected to his shoulder.
 
Dean nudged his head and then pulled his chin up to kiss him. He pushed hard
against Sam’s mouth, tongue sliding past his lips and against Sam’s tongue.
 
Dean’s hands slid over Sam’s body, down between then to slip into his jeans,
feeling Sam jerk as his fingers touched his cock.
 
Sam moaned and kissed him hard hips bucking into his fist. ‘Dean… want you…”
Sam murmured.
 
Dean grinned and nibbled at his lip.
 
Suddenly Sam was twisting out of his grip and opening a cupboard. “What are you
doing?” Dean frowned, feeling a little frustrated.
Sam turned around with a blinding grin. “This.” He held up a bottle.
 
Dean groaned and leant hard against the bench as Sam grabbed his hand and
poured a little oil into it. Dean could barely hold himself together as Sam
pulled off his shirt and then unbuttoned his jeans. He pushed himself away from
the bench and pinned Sam against it, kissing him before dropping to his knees.
 
Sam looked down at him, slightly surprised then groaned, long and loud as Dean
sucked on the head of his cock and slipped a hand between his legs to play
lightly with his balls before sliding back.
 
Sam was chewing on his lip, staring down at Dean with dark, hooded eyes, hands
clenched on the edge of the bench.
 
His breathing sped up as Dean’s finger slid inside him and his other hand
curled around the base of his cock, stroking slightly. Dean licked a hot stripe
down the heated flesh and worked his fingers in and out.
 
‘Dean, fuck.” Sam gasped. “Hurry up.” He pushed down on Dean’s finger and Dean
worked another one in, stretching him carefully and sucking his dick into his
mouth.
 
“Dean…” Sam keened.
 
Dean relented and pulled his fingers out, standing up and grabbing the oil
again. Sam snatched it out of his grasp and undid Dean’s jeans, pushing them
down before pouring oil into his palm and slicking him up.
 
Dean hissed at the feeling of cool wetness and slow pressure and couldn’t stop
his hips from bucking up into Sam’s oily fist. He pushed Sam’s hand away and
turned him around. Sam bent easily under his hand and spread his legs a little.
Dean groaned at the sight in front of him and ran the palm of his hand over his
brother’s arse, letting his thumbs delve between the cheeks for a moment.
 
“Dean!” Sam’s voice was desperate and cracked. He pushed back against Dean’s
hands wantonly and Dean pushed close, sliding into that tight, overbearing
heat.
 
They groaned in unison and Sam pressed back hard, impaling himself.
Dean started a slow, deep rhythm, making Sam rock back, and curled his hand
around Sam’s cock to stroke him in time with his thrusts until they were both
panting hard.
 
“Faster.” Sam growled, pushing back and tightening around Dean. Dean almost
lost it right there, and sped up, fingers gripping Sam’s hips as he slid in
deep.
 
The pressure built up, wrapping around Dean until he couldn’t see, and then he
was coming, pressed hard against Sam, the smooth skin of Sam’s thighs against
his balls.
 
Sam tightened around him and came on Dean’s fist and the cupboards.
Dean slumped against him and panted hard, breathing in Sam’s musky, sweaty
smell.
 
Sam reached back and stroked down Dean’s side, then he shifted and pushed Dean
away.
 
They pulled their clothes back on and washed up silently, then Sam smiled a
little at Dean and started pulling things out for dinner.
Dean grinned triumphantly but hid it when Sam looked at him again.
 
Maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad after all. Maybe they could look after each
other just fine on their own.
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