Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/164093.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Sam_Winchester/Original_Male_Character, Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Wincest_-_Freeform, Sibling_Incest
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-02-20 Words: 9485
****** Promises to Keep ******
by gestaltrose
Summary
     Sam has feelings for Dean, and he tries his damndest to stop them.
Sam woke Dean as he had every morning since he could remember, with a hug and a
kiss and a nose rub. Dean would pretend to grumble and then throw Sam on his
back and tickle him.
They did it until Dean could no longer throw Sam on his back. Sam still tried
to wake Dean with his hug and kiss and nose rub but he would barely get the hug
in and Dean would shrug him off, mumbling something about being too old for
baby stuff.
So Sam learned to cry only when Dean wasn’t around. He wasn’t a baby! He loved
his brother and would show him that he wasn’t a baby. Throughout his school
year Sam would keep it to himself when he was teased and when he couldn’t hide
what was happening because of bruises or black eyes, he would make it sound
like the other boy looked worse, because that is what Dad wanted to hear.
Dean too, at least so it seemed to Sam. Years later Sam learned that Dean never
believed him when he said that the other guy was looking worse than he was.
Mainly because Dad had started them wrestling one another and learning the
basics of self-defense and Sam was crap at it.
Sam would never admit that he always felt like an outsider. From first grade
onwards, Sam was always jealous of Dean and the ease that he made friends, of
how well he fit in. For the first couple of years Dean would try to include Sam
but as they moved and moved again, Dean found that fitting in meant excluding
Sam. It wasn’t such a big deal at school as they always went to different
schools, but after school, Sam would try to hang out with his brother, which
generally didn’t bother Dean. But when Dean had friends over, Sam might as well
have been invisible.
At times Sam felt like he really was invisible. Teachers wouldn’t call on him
at school, and if Dean didn’t say something to him he would go days without
speaking to anyone. One time when Sam was in sixth grade, he kept track. Ten
words were spoken directly at him over the course of a week. ‘You fucking
little shit, Winchester,’ was five of them and ‘sit down’, ‘eat’, and ‘stop
that’ were the other five.
Then puberty hit Sam like a freight train. In the summer between sixth and
seventh grade he grew a foot and a half, gained fifty pounds and never stopped
hurting. Long and lanky, he entered yet another school but his height seemed to
make all the difference. Girls noticed him, boys noticed him, hell, teachers
finally noticed him and he thrived under the attention.
Growing his hair out in ninth grade, Sam fought with Dad about it and
everything else every time he was home. The only one who seemed to care about
him was Dean but Dean, when he wasn’t going with Dad, was finishing up his
senior year. Dean was still surrounded by sycophants but Sam didn’t care as
much as he finally had ‘friends’ of his own.
Dave was in eleventh grade and also on the Varsity basketball team; Sam was
hoping they were going to stick around so that next year he could get on it.
Sam offered to tutor Dave who needed some help with his trigonometry, and Sam
was good with numbers. People mystified him but numbers he got.
It was probably their fifth or six tutoring session at Dave’s house when Dave
kissed Sam. Other than Dean and the morning kisses, it was his first kiss. Dave
was nervous and Sam was inexperienced so they never got past a couple of make
out sessions. Once Dave passed his final and was guaranteed a place on the
Varsity team the next season, he stopped using Sam as a tutor and dropped him
as a friend.
Later, Sam figured out that Dave was confused and scared that Sam was going to
say something about them kissing but at the time all Sam knew was that he went
from being if not popular at least accepted, to being an outcast. He tried to
hide it all from Dean but was unsuccessful.
“Sam, you got something to tell me?”
“No.”
“About what David Cabot has been saying?”
Sam swung his hair down like a shield between him and his brother. “No,” he
said again, his breath blowing his hair out.
“Damn it, Sam. Is it true?” Dean sounded frustrated and when Sam glanced up at
him he looked it too, the skin tight around Dean’s mouth and eyes, a sure sign
of anger.
“What, Dean? Is what true?” Sam tossed his head back and looked his brother in
the eyes, it’s not like Dean had a monopoly on anger.
“That you’re gay. That you forced yourself on him.”
Sam couldn’t believe that Dean was asking him that. “Whatever.” Sam shrugged,
more hurt than he let on.
Dean’s voice gentled, he reached out and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s
okay, Sam, you can tell me.”
“Tell you what?” Sam moved away from Dean. “That Dave kissed me and I liked it?
Or maybe you want to hear that he forced himself on me? Or maybe you want to
hear that what they’re saying at school is true and I threw myself on Dave and
almost raped him but he beat me off like the fairy I am?”
“I want the truth.”
Sam gave a barking laugh. The truth would send Dean running for the hills.
“What?”
“You don’t want the truth, you just want me to say what you wanna hear, just
like Dad.”
Dean gave Sam this intense look, like he was trying to see his soul or
something. “I always want the truth from you.”
Sam walked across the room and slammed his hands against the kitchen table. He
could see Dean jump at the sound, or maybe his anger, out of the corner of his
eye and he lost it. Dean scared of him, right.
“You bastard,” Sam growled. “You don’t give a shit about me, you’re just
worried that if I’m seen as gay it will affect your fucking status. You never
talk to me, you never even acknowledge me at school. And now you want me to
think you give a shit? You have no fucking clue what my life is like, and you
judge me. Well fuck you. Believe whatever the hell you want to, it’s what you
do anyway, just like Dad.”
Dean stood there, his eyes wide with pain for a moment then they clouded with
anger. “Well, if you weren’t such a little freak, maybe I would acknowledge
you.”
Sam stood there, staring at Dean with his mouth hanging open. He had always
suspected Dean felt that way but he had honestly never expected to hear him say
it. Now he was doubly glad that he hadn’t told Dean the truth. Dean saw him as
a freak now, what would he think if he knew that Sam was fucking hard as a rock
every time Dean was within smelling distance? Sam didn’t admit to anyone, hell
it twisted his gut, that the person he wanted to be with wasn’t Dave, it was
Dean.
Turning, Sam grabbed his backpack and ran out the door. For a moment he had
thought he saw regret flash across Dean’s face but he was so hurt he couldn’t
really give a damn.
Wandering around town all night, Sam showed up at school the next day. There
wasn’t that much of the school year left and like his guidance councilor told
him, from this year on, all the grades counted towards his gpa and he needed a
good one to get scholarships. He ignored the snickers and whispers as he walked
down the hall. Getting to his locker, he saw the word Fag scrawled in red spray
paint across his locker door.
Suddenly Dean was there, beside him, glaring at everyone who was standing
around laughing at Sam. “Everyone had better leave my brother alone.” Dean was
full of barely controlled anger. Sam stood up ready to push his brother away
but he saw something in Dean’s face, something he hadn’t seen in a long time.
He couldn’t have said what it was but he let Dean stand up for him.
Sam made it through the day somehow and he was walking home when Dean pulled up
in the Impala. Great, Dad must be home. Driving along beside him, Dean tried to
coax him into the car, finally blocking his way as he tried to cross a side
road. “Get in the damn car, we need to talk before we get home.”
Flinging the door open, Sam slumped into the seat next to his brother. “Dad’s
home, that why you stood up for me today?”
Dean reached across and punched him in the arm. “Idiot. For a brilliant kid you
sure can be stupid sometimes.”
“I’m not a kid,” Sam snapped.
“Then stop acting like one.”
Sam didn’t move from where he was against the car door. He just leaned his
forehead against the window, his breath hitting it and bouncing back and
fluttering his hair.
“I don’t think you’re a freak,” Dean’s voice was soft. “I shouldn’t have said
that.”
“I know what I am.” Sam felt his anger draining out of him, the hopelessness of
his situation filling him.
“It’s okay to be gay, or bi, or whatever. It doesn’t make you a freak. I should
know.”
Sam’s head snapped around so fast that it pinched a nerve and he all he could
see was stars, his vision darkened so that Dean was barely in focus. Closing
his eyes, he let the pain wash over him. When he opened them, Dean was close,
having pulled over. Dean was too close.
Jerking back, he banged his head against the door. “Dean?”
“I’m sorry, Sam.” Dean leaned back, away from Sam. “I told Dad you spent the
night with friends.”
Sam laughed, because if he didn’t he would cry. His father was so oblivious to
Sam that he didn’t even know that Sam didn’t have any friends, not any more.
The sound came out a harsh caw that echoed in the car. Dean didn’t look angry,
just sad.
“Was he mad?” Sam asked the question that was burning across his brain. Dean
shook his head and he started up the Impala again. “He was talking about moving
again, after school of course, and I think I’ve got him convinced to leave
now.”
“But what about you?” Sam asked. “Only three more months and you graduate.”
“What the hell am I going to do with a diploma, Sam? Really? Can you see me
working around hunting?”
Sam shook his head. He wasn’t quite as depressed as before. Dean had talked Dad
into leaving, he wouldn’t have to stay here with everyone hating him. Dean was
willing to give up graduating just to help him.
Spontaneously, he lurched across the car and wrapped his long gangly arms
around Dean. Dean tried to pat his back and Sam pulled back and it was then he
realized what he had done. His eyes were caught by Dean’s brilliant green ones,
he couldn’t catch his breath and he could have swore that there was a flare of
something in the depths of Dean’s eyes before Dean closed them. Taking a deep,
shaky breath he slowly pushed Sam away. Again.
Fearful that he had given himself away, Sam curled in on himself as Dean pulled
back onto the road. They pulled into the driveway and Sam, whose brain had been
churning at a hundred miles an hour, asked Dean a question. Awkwardly and
blushing, he asked Dean what he meant about knowing about being gay or
bisexual.
Dean rolled his eyes. “I would have thought it would be obvious.”
Sam stared at Dean. It wasn’t obvious to him, the only thing he had ever
noticed was that Dean had friends and he didn’t. Sam shook his head.
Dean slapped his thigh and looked up. “There’s Dad, we should go in. Remember
you were at a friend’s.” Dean didn’t want to get in trouble with Dad anymore
than Sam did. Sam nodded and they got out of the car.
Dad did what he always did and told Sam they were moving and he needed to find
out what he needed to get from his school because Dad wasn’t positive where
they were moving, south he figured but not a place. For once Sam wasn’t unhappy
with his father’s authoritarian ways. He pretended to mope a bit because that’s
what Dad expected but inside he was cheering.
On the last day, a week later Sam was standing outside Dean’s chemistry’s
class, waiting for him so that he could get the hell out of this place. He
didn’t mean to eavesdrop but the door was open and the teacher wasn’t exactly
quiet.
He was pushing Dean to finish out high school. Telling him that he should be
going to college, that he was gifted. Sam could see Dean shrug. The teacher
pushed a paper into Dean’s hand, a recommendation he said. Dean thanked him and
caught sight of Sam standing in the doorway. He said he had to go and thanked
the teacher again.
Years later Sam wondered what life would have been like if Dean had taken that
advice. Left him and Dad, like Sam would leave them in a few years. Would Sam
have left? Knowing that he would be leaving Dad with no one to back him up?
Sometimes Sam wondered if everything Dean did was to try and make Sam’s life
better.
So, they moved. Sam finished out the ninth grade in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
Dean started hunting full time with Dad and Sam quietly rebelled in all the
ways that he thought Dean should. The problem was, it was mostly Dean that
noticed.
Stopping in at Uncle Bobby’s during the summer, John wanted to leave Sam there
but somehow over the course of the week John changed his mind. Sam suspected
that Uncle Bobby had had a talk with Dad because all of a sudden Dad was trying
to talk to him.
Sam gave monosyllabic answers, if he couldn’t get away with grunting. It went
on for a while, then Dad gave up and left Sam with Dean in the Impala. Sam
sighed with relief. Later that night Dad got him and Dean one room and he took
the one next door. He and Dean would have to share a bed, which was nothing
new.
Getting into the room, Sam shut the door behind him and sat his duffle by the
bed when he was attacked. Dean shoved him up against the wall.
“What the fuck?”
“You little selfish prick. Dad spent more time trying to talk to you today than
he has said to me all year and what did you do? Blow him off. Can’t you at
least see he’s trying?” Dean had a hold of Sam’s shirt and pulled him close to
make sure Sam was listening.
“Why do you always do what he says?” Sam asked quietly.
“Because it’s important.”
“That’s it?” Sam asked and he pushed against Dean and froze as he realized that
Dean had a hard on. Quickly Sam debated pretending he hadn’t felt what he felt
but he took too long to pull back and Dean pushed him back, his eyes dark and
shaded, let Sam slam into the wall. He left without saying a word.
Sam sat on the bed, his head in his hands, thinking things he had only
fantasized about in the deepest part of the night. His stomach was churning, it
wasn’t an easy jump from fantasy to reality and some part of him was sure that
he was misunderstanding Dean’s reaction. If Sam came clean, told Dean what he
wanted, who he wanted, who’s to say that Dean wouldn’t head for the bathroom
and throw up. It was what Sam felt like doing right now.
Dean loved him, Sam knew that, but would he still be able to look at his little
brother if he knew just how perverted he was? Sam wasn’t sure so he decided to
keep his mouth shut.
Dad came over and, after asking where Dean was, he took Sam out for dinner.
Again he tried to talk to Sam. Sam was quicker and asked about his most recent
hunt, and Dad got caught up in a story telling Sam how he and Dean had had to
dig up at least five unmarked graves before they found the right one. Bragging
about how smart Dean was, figuring out which area they even needed to start
looking.
Sam nodded and kept his mouth full so that Dad couldn’t ask him any questions.
They got through dinner and Dad said something about hitting the bars to see if
he could find Dean and Sam nodded, obedient for the moment. Uselessly repeating
for the millionth time for Sam to lay down the salt, Dad tore out of the
parking lot.
Laying salt across the door and along all the windowsills, Sam brushed his
teeth, showered, very carefully not thinking about Dean as he jacked off in the
shower. Watching his come washing down the drain, Sam kind of thought it was a
good analogy for his life, just a lot of wasted stuff that should be washed
away.
Getting out of the shower, Sam heard the door slam and Dean curse. Slipping
into his sweat pants, he took a breath and heading into the room. Dean was
sitting on the bed, trying to take his shoes off. Sam noticed that he had
broken the salt line and fixed it, which was probably what he had been cursing
about.
Sam sat down on the bed and Dean looked up at him. “I’m on that side,” he
didn’t sound drunk exactly but neither did he sound sober.
“’kay,” Sam slipped into bed on the side away from the door and curled his now
long frame into as tight as spot as he could get.
Dean sighed a huge sigh as he looked at Sam then he grabbed his night pants and
headed for the bathroom. Sam debated on whether he should get up and get a
shirt on but before he made up his mind, Dean was coming out of the bathroom
and Sam screwed his eyes shut.
Lying down on his side of the bed, Dean sighed and pulled the covers towards
himself. They had done this when they were kids but they hadn’t in recent
memory. Sam let out an irritated huff as Dean pulled the covers off of him.
“Dude, we did this when I was three.” Sam poked Dean.
“Well, you were acting like you were three so I thought you wanted to play.”
“You are such an ass, Dean.” Sam grabbed the covers and yanked. Dean let go of
the blanket and Sam and the blanket fell off the bed. Dean was laughing. Never
had Sam longed so hard to be old enough just to walk out of the door and not
look back.
Dean was still laughing and some small part of Sam knew it was because he was
almost drunk but the rest of him didn’t care. He launched himself at Dean,
tackling his laughing ass. Sam swung his fist and it glanced off of Dean’s
chin, a now very angry Dean.
Sam tried to get on top of Dean, knowing from their many sparing matches that
he could use his long legs and arms to his advantage but Dean was still four
years older and at fifteen he might have his height but he didn’t have the mass
to back it up and Dean was soon on top of Sam, straddling his waist, holding
his hands above his head.
They were both panting and then Sam realized his body was responding to Dean
just before Dean did. Sam bucked and twisted and tried desperately to get Dean
off of him. Dean didn’t budge and Sam’s hard cock was now straining against his
sweats and pressed against Dean’s ass. Sam let his head fall back against the
bed in embarrassment and shut his eyes.
Dean didn’t jump off of Sam like Sam expected he would. He didn’t move at all,
his ass still pressed up against Sam’s hard on, still holding Sam’s hands above
his head. Sam slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Dean, who had the most
curious expression on his face. It wasn’t disgust or loathing, which is what
Sam had feared, but a strange combination of longing and sadness.
He was close to Sam, still. Dean hadn’t pulled back and it wasn’t hard for Sam
to lift his head and brush his lips across Dean’s. They were rough and dry and
not moving. Dean wasn’t kissing him back but still his brother didn’t move and
Sam let his head fall back in despair, his eyelids fluttered shut again as his
eyes filled with tears and he fought to keep them in. Dean still wasn’t moving
and Sam huffed, trying to play his hurt off as anger.
Then Sam felt Dean’s weight shift and he leaned down and Sam could feel his
warm breath still tinged with alcohol blow across his lips. His bare chest
rubbed against Sam as he moved closer and Sam felt his nipples tighten. Still
Sam kept his eyes shut, he didn’t want to open them and find that it really
wasn’t happening, that Dean wasn’t leaning over him.
“Don’t cry, Sammy,” Dean breathed just above him and Sam felt a tear slip past
his lid and roll down the side of his face. “Didn’t want you to know, ‘m
sorry.”
Sam’s eyes opened up and he blinked the tears out of them. “Know what?”
“That I’m so fucked up inside, Sammy. I hurt you and I was just trying to
protect you. Didn’t want you to know, or guess. Was terrified that my friends
would see right through me and you might even get taken away. I was so scared,
so I ignored you. ‘m sorry, Sammy, thought you had friends all this time.” Now
Dean was close to tears.
Sam heard what Dean was saying and then he heard what Dean was saying. Sam was
filled with a sudden euphoria, that years later, after falling for Jess, he
would classify as falling in love but at the time all Sam knew was that Dean
wanted him like he wanted Dean and that if they both wanted it, maybe he hadn’t
fucked everything up between them.
Dean had loosened his grip on Sam’s hands and Sam pulled one out of his grasp
and wrapped his fingers around the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him down to
kiss him. Sam’s lips moved gently over Dean’s, coaxing, pleading, begging to be
let in. And finally Dean parted his lips and gave Sam what he was asking for.
The first time Dean’s tongue touched his, Sam moaned and tried to suck it into
his mouth. Dean backed off with a small smile. “Who you been kissing?”
“Dave.” Sam blushed. “But that was months ago.”
“Before that?”
“No one.”
“Ever?” Dean didn’t have to sound so surprised but Sam just shook his head.
“Well, little brother. I am going to do your future boyfriends or girlfriends a
favor. I am going to teach you how to kiss.”
Sam squirmed on the bed, his still hard cock rubbing against his sweats and
Dean and this talk of kissing wasn’t helping it go down.
“Hold still, I can’t think with you pushing up against me,” Dean whispered into
his hair.
“Now first, you close your eyes.” Dean leaned over and placed a kiss on each of
Sam’s eyelids. Sam wanted to watch Dean but he also wanted to do as Dean told
him, because what if he didn’t and Dean stopped.
“Then you, kind of, ghost your lips over the other person’s.” Dean demonstrated
and Sam felt the heat of his breath flow over his lips then a soft brush of
Dean’s lips. Sam lay there barely breathing.
“Then maybe you slightly bite one lip, but you don’t attack.” Dean took Sam’s
bottom lip between his and sucked it into his mouth. Gripping it lightly with
his teeth, he flicked his tongue over it. Sam hadn’t thought his lip was
connected directly to his cock but it jumped when Dean’s tongue started
playing.
Sam could feel Dean grin and he released Sam’s lip. “Sometimes you can go and
bite the other one, but usually that isn’t what is going to happen. What do you
think should happen next, Sam?” Dean asked, his breath still flowing warm over
Sam’s face. “Ah, no opening your eyes,” Dean said as Sam’s eyelids fluttered.
“You’re going to kiss me,” Sam said hopefully.
He could feel Dean’s cotton night pants rub against his sides as Dean moved,
shifting his weight back some. “What do you think I’ve been doing?”
Sam actually thought about it. “Showing me what comes before.”
He could hear the approval in Dean’s voice, “And do you think there should be
more that comes before?”
Sam nodded and because he couldn’t see Dean some part of him thought that Dean
couldn’t see him. “Yes.”
“Okay. What else?”
“I dunno,” Sam said and Dean laughed.
“That’s a good place to start.” Dean leaned back over him. He brushed his lips
along Sam’s jaw and up to his ear. “Admitting you don’t know means you’re ready
to learn. Are you ready to learn, Sammy?”
Sam gulped and nodded, slightly. Dean slid his hand up Sam’s arm, across his
collarbone and wrapped them around the back of Sam’s neck, his fingers
threading through Sam’s curls. Then he pressed his thumb against the underside
of Sam’s chin, not forcing but encouraging Sam to lift it up.
Lifting his chin, Sam’s eyes flickered open as Dean kissed up his neck,
starting at the now exposed juncture of his shoulder and neck; Dean licked and
nibbled his way up. He moved his hand so that it was wrapped around the back of
Sam’s head as he got to Sam’s ear.
Dean bit down on Sam’s earlobe and then sucked it into his mouth, his tongue
licking it and Sam was going crazy. Every move Dean made had him more turned
on. Then Dean kissed down his jaw, until he was hovering over Sam’s mouth. Sam
could feel the heat of his breath just before his lips touched Sam’s.
Sam was determined to get this right so he lay there and let Dean slowly nibble
and suck on his lips before Dean slid his tongue out to brush against them. Sam
opened his lips and Dean’s tongue tentatively touched Sam’s and then tilting
his head, Dean slowly moved his lips and they parted and came back together.
Breaking the kiss off, Dean sat back, his ass again rubbing against Sam’s hard
cock. “Dean,” Sam half whined, half moaned and Dean smirked at him. Sliding off
of Sam and onto the bed next to him, Dean looked at Sam.
“Test time,” Dean said.
Breaking the kiss off, Dean sat back, his ass again rubbing against Sam’s hard
cock. “Dean,” Sam half whined, half moaned and Dean smirked at him. Sliding off
of Sam and onto the bed next to him, Dean looked at Sam.
“Test time,” Dean said.
Sam looked at him in confusion at first and then he got it, he was supposed to
‘demonstrate’ what he learned on Dean. Moving, Sam slung a leg over Dean’s
waist and this time he had his ass pressed against Dean’s cock, which he was
glad to find out was also hard. Sam took advantage of his position and traced
his fingers across Dean’s chest and then down his arms and back up.
Following what Dean had shown him, he leaned down and slowly let his lips brush
across Dean’s. Sam let his tongue out and flicked it across Dean’s lips and
then slowly sucked Dean’s bottom lip into his mouth. Dean groaned and Sam felt
it go straight to his cock that was trapped between them.
Sam broke the kiss and panted for a moment. It was too overwhelming, he
thought, as he let his forehead rest against Dean’s. Then Dean tilted his head
up and urged Sam on. Sam copied what Dean had done earlier and ran his lips
over the juncture where Dean’s neck joined his shoulder. He nibbled his way up
Dean’s neck and ran his lips across Dean’s jaw. As Sam got to Dean’s ear, Dean
started moving against him and Sam slipped back, his legs lying between Dean’s
and their cocks almost touching, separated by Sam’s sweatpants and Dean’s
cotton night pants.
They both groaned and Sam rocked again as he pushed his lips against Dean’s.
Dean’s hands were shoving at his sweats and Sam broke the kiss and backed off.
Then, almost quicker than Sam could think, Dean had his pants down around his
thighs and their cocks grasped in a firm grip. Sam rocked into his brother’s
hand and against Dean’s smooth cock. He was going to come and soon, he was
surprised he hadn’t already. He moaned Dean’s name and let go, his come
covering Dean’s hand and slicking up their stomachs. Dean shoved his cock
against Sam’s a few more times before coming, too.
There was a knocking at the door and Sam was off of Dean and snatching up his
sweats before the pounding stopped. “We’re leaving soon,” Dad said. “You up?”
“Yeah, Dad,” Sam said and he looked at Dean who laying on the bed with a sort
of dazed expression on his face. “Give us a few?” Sam asked.
“Sam,” Dean said quietly.
“Yeah?”
“Did we just?”
“Yeah, kinda. You okay with that?”
Dean gave him a kind of spaced out grin that had Sam wondering if beer was the
only thing that Dean had had at the bar.
“I’m good, if you are.”
“Good. Now get your ass up.” Sam threw a wet washcloth at Dean. “Clean up so we
don’t smell like come.”
Dean ran his fingers through the mess of come on his stomach before bringing
them up to his mouth to taste and Sam groaned. “Come on, dad’s expecting us.
Dad, Dean.” Sam tried to get his brother moving and some of it must have sunk
in because Dean was suddenly in high gear, grabbing the washcloth and cleaning
up.
Stuffing their stuff into their duffels, Sam quickly packed. Dean was in the
bathroom brushing his teeth and Sam pushed his way in past Dean to use the
toilet.
“Bitch,” Dean said, spitting in the sink. Something inside Sam relaxed that he
hadn’t even known was tight; they were back to normal banter.
“Jerk,” Sam replied as he pissed, the noise loud in the small room. Dean
snorted and grabbing his toothbrush, left. Finishing up, Sam washed up then
brushed his own teeth. Stepping out of the bathroom, Sam was brought up short
as Dean was waiting for him.
“This is done. It stops now.”
Sam looked at Dean in confusion. What the fuck? “What happened to ‘I’m good if
you are’?”
Dean shrugged. He fucking just lifted his shoulders and let them drop like it
didn’t matter, like he wasn’t breaking Sam’s heart. Sam turned and let his face
grow cold.
“Fine,” Sam snapped and grabbed his bag.
“Sam,” Dean said and Sam stopped, his hand on the door. “It’s wrong. I’m
wrong.”
Sam turned and looked at Dean. “Yeah, tell me just how wrong you are. While
you’re at it, you might think about this, I wasn’t the one drunk last night.”
Sam turned and slammed out of the room, choking back tears.
Storming out, Sam tossed his duffel in the back of the Impala. No matter how
mad he was at Dean, he wasn’t crazy enough to want to ride with Dad. He slumped
into the front seat and waited for Dean.
Dean came out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Walking over
to Dad’s truck, he and Dad talked for a few minutes and Dean nodded sharply and
headed back to the car. Sam slouched down more so that Dean wouldn’t know he’d
been watching him in the side mirror.
Dean opened the door, tossed his bag in the back and got in. He didn’t say a
word, just slipped his AC/DC tape into the player and cranked it. Sam turned so
that he was looking out the window. If Dean wasn’t going to talk then neither
was he.
They drove pretty much straight through the next couple of days, finally
stopping outside some worn out old town in Arizona or New Mexico, Sam wasn’t
sure, all he knew was that it was hot and when it wasn’t hot it was cold. Two
days in the car with Dean and they stank. Dad grabbed them two rooms again and
Sam was almost racing Dean for the shower. It was near nine at night and the
air had started to cool off outside, so after his shower Sam dressed in his
sweat pants and stepped outside. The air conditioning that this place offered
was so lame that Sam couldn’t justify turning the thing on to just clank away
when stepping outside was so much easier.
Dad stood outside too and Sam gave him a nod and leaned against the peeling
paint of his door.
“Can I ask you a question, Sam?” Dad was talking to him like he was a normal
person; this immediately put Sam’s guard up. But what could he say to his
question except yes?
“Yeah,” Sam half grunted.
“I need you to do something for me.”
Sam huffed. Why wasn’t he surprised?
Dad must have taken it as a yes because he continued. “I need you to watch out
for your brother. You’re old enough now to know what kind of trouble your dick
can get you in and Dean, well, let’s just say he’s got double the trouble. You
stick close. You hear me, Sammy? Dean needs you.”
Sam stopped a laugh, or maybe it was a sob, because the last thing that Dean
needed was him. The object of their talk stepped out of the room, his damp hair
sparkling in the light of the motel sign. Sam got a look from Dad and he turned
and headed back inside the room, hot and stifling was better than being outside
with him.
Sliding windows open, Sam overheard part of what Dad was talking to Dean about.
Him, of course. His ears burned as Dad asked Dean about girlfriends or
something. He lay on the bed -- dad, of course, had gotten them one damn bed -
- and pulled the pillow over his head.
Dean came in later and Sam felt him lay down next to him.
“Dad said I should watch out for you,” Sam finally said into his pillow,
wondering what Dean would say to that.
“What?” Dean asked.
Sam moved the pillow and said it again.
Dean sighed. “Sam, you’re fifteen, how are you going to do that?”
Sam lifted his chin. “I’d do a damn better job than you do.”
“Whatever, Sammy,” Dean said and they lay there in the darkness. Sam could tell
that Dean wasn’t sleeping and he was sure that Dean knew he wasn’t asleep.
Sam couldn’t stop thinking about Dean kissing him. He hadn’t stopped thinking
about it this whole time, though he had tried to. Finally it cooled off enough
for Sam to drop off to sleep, only to wake up shivering a couple of hours
later. Dean didn’t seem to be bothered but Sam got up and shut the windows,
noting the hoarfrost on everything outside. Damn, but you’d never know it would
be above a hundred in a few hours. He shivered and crawled back into bed and
tried to get warm.
He must have woken Dean up at some point because Sam found his brother could
still wrap around him. Sam was worried that he was going to respond to Dean
touching him but his fears were unfounded because as soon as he warmed up, he
also fell asleep.
The hell of trying to get to sleep had nothing on the hell of waking up with
your brother’s hard cock rubbing against your back, Sam was sure of it. As Dean
pressed against him, Sam tried to move away only to be stopped by Dean’s arms
as they tightened around him. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and he rolled
so that he was on top of Dean, who blinked up at him with sleep-filled eyes.
Lowering his head, he leaned down and ran his lips across Dean’s and then as
Dean sleepily opened his mouth to Sam’s urgings, he slipped his tongue out to
touch Dean’s. Sam was surprised and ecstatic when Dean started to kiss him
back. One of them moaned and Sam was flipped onto his back and Dean looked down
at him, his eyes clear.
“Thought I told you no,” Dean said and Sam shrugged. He never was that great at
taking orders and Dean knew it. Then Dad was pounding on the door again.
“Come on, boys, day’s a wasting.”
Dean let go of Sam and slid off of him. Looking his brother in the eyes, Dean
said, “I said no and I meant it.”
Sam huffed but didn’t say anything.
Months later as Sam started school again, in Magnolia, Arkansas he knew Dean
meant it. He didn’t touch Sam; he hardly looked at Sam for the past three
months. Dad had parked him and Dean here. Writing a temporary power of attorney
for Dean and then fucking dropped off the face of the earth.
Now he understood why Dad had asked him to keep an eye on Dean, because after
Dad left, it was like Dean disappeared. Sam knew that he was around but he was
avoiding Sam, or at least avoiding being alone with Sam.
Leaving for school one morning, Sam saw panties lying across the crappy plaid
print sofa and he wanted to hit something, knowing that Dean and some girl were
sleeping in his room. A few days later it was briefs and Sam knew Dean was
doing it on purpose, trying to drive Sam away. All it did was make him mad.
Sam confronted Dean, cornering him in the kitchen. “What the hell do you think
you’re doing?”
Dean knew exactly what Sam was talking about. “Not that it’s any of your
business but I’m having fun.”
“You’re bringing strangers into this house. What if someone asks about the salt
or the guns? What about everything Dad told us about staying safe? I have never
brought anyone home, ever.” Sam’s voice was flat with controlled anger.
“It’s not like they’re going to talk,” Dean said while rolling his eyes.
“Why the fuck not?” Sam asked.
“Because they’re not interested in anything else, they want what they paid
for!” Dean yelled at Sam.
Sam stood staring in confusion. “What?” There was no way Dean had meant what he
had just said.
“Nothing,” Dean said and pushed past Sam.
Sam put his hand out and stopped Dean. “What did you mean?”
“Fuck off, Sam, and mind your own business,” Dean said coldly and Sam snapped.
Everyone kept him in the dark about everything. He wasn’t four anymore and he
had thought that at least Dean . . . obviously he had thought wrong.
“You are supposed to be here to take care of me,” Sam said.
“You can take care of yourself,” Dean said and pulled out of Sam’s grasp.
Turning, Sam punched the wall that was between the kitchen and the living room.
He was surprised when his fist went though the sheetrock, then he hit the wall
stud and all he felt was pain.
It must have shown because Dean looked at him concerned. “Sam?”
“I’m fine,” Sam said, cradling his hand in shock.
“Let me see,” Dean said softly.
“Fuck you, Dean. I can take care of myself, remember?” Sam snapped and Dean’s
face tightened with anger.
“Fine,” Dean snapped and, grabbing his coat and the keys to the Impala, he
left.
Sam stood there for a long time in shock. He found himself sitting down at the
table and resting his hand on it. His suspicion that he had broke it was
confirmed when he set his hand down and felt the unmistakable almost audible
feeling of bone scraping against bone. Knowing he should get up and at least
get some ice, Sam didn’t have the energy to do it.
Later he tried to move and, as he stood, there were black spots floating in
front of his eyes. He sat back down. If he passed out it would just be worse.
Sam sat and distracted himself by thinking about what Dean had said. Thinking
back, thinking about Dad and money and how much Dad usually left them, Sam did
the math. Dean had always, always, managed to come up with money for food and
clothes. Even just Goodwill stuff, it still cost. Dean might have done a five
finger discount occasionally but the one time he caught Sam, he laid into him.
Shaking his head, Sam’s eyes filled with tears, partially because of his hand,
which fucking hurt, and partially because of Dean. Hours passed and Sam fell
asleep once but the moment he moved his hand, he jerked awake. He was still
sitting at the table when Dean came home smelling of cheap perfume and spunk.
Sam looked wearily up at Dean, tear stains on his face. He sniffed and wiped
his nose on the back of his sleeve.
“Sam?” Dean asked and then looked at Sam’s hand that was resting on the table.
“Oh shit, Sam,” he said, noticing that it was swollen to nearly twice its
normal size.
“It hurts.” Sam didn’t even notice he was talking like a five year old.
“Shhh, Sammy.” Dean was at his side in a moment. “Let me see.”
“S-s-s-sorry,” Sam said, his breath still stuttering from the tears.
“We need to get you to a doctor, Sam, I can’t fix this,” Dean said, his voice
tired. “Come on.”
Sam sniffed and then sniffed again. “I am not going to the doctor with you
smelling like that, you reek.”
“Dude, now isn’t the time to get all girly on me,” Dean pointed out as he tried
to get Sam to his feet.
“I am not going anywhere with you smelling like that, Dean.” Sam almost said
that he smelled like a whorehouse but thankfully whatever part of his brain was
still working kept it from coming out. At least he hoped it did. The way Dean
jerked back from him made him think that maybe he had.
Dean left and reappeared to Sam what seemed like moments later but it must have
been longer because Dean was wet from a shower and this time he smelled really
good when he leaned over Sam to look at his hand. Finding something to splint
his hand with, Dean wrapped an Ace bandage around it and then made a makeshift
sling from one of Sam’s hoodies.
Helping Sam up, Dean led him to the car, the pain jolting Sam out of whatever
place he drifted off to. Sam got in and was leaning his forehead against the
cold window. The drive must have taken at least twenty minutes as the nearest
ER was two towns over. Dean had grabbed the insurance stuff and the fake id’s
to go with it, as he told Sam after they were parked outside the hospital.
“Sam Jones, think you can remember that?” Dean shook his shoulder. “Sam, are
you with me? The insurance is for Sam Jones.” Sam nodded and Dean came around
the car and helped him out.
The emergency room was a nightmare for Sam. First was the wait, then he was
examined and x-rays were taken then apparently someone called the cops because
there was one there. First he took Dean aside and questioned him and then he
questioned Sam.
No, Sam had told them, his brother hadn’t done this to him. He explained to the
cop what he had already explained to the doctors and nurses, that he had hit
his hand and then hadn’t told his brother how bad he was hurt. They kept asking
him why he had hid it and where were his parents? Sam told them that he hadn’t
wanted to seem like a crybaby and that it really hadn’t been bad at first. And
as for his parents, Sam told the same story he told everyone. Mom was dead and
Dad was a long haul truck driver. Dad left Dean in charge. And yes he was a
good brother, thank you very much, and could he please have something for the
pain.
Finally they gave Sam a shot of something and after having him soak his hand in
ice water to bring down the swelling they put it in a cast from his fingers to
almost his elbow. Setting up an appointment for more x-rays in a week, they
gave Dean two scripts and directions on how to use them. The pain had receded
and Sam’s exhaustion was taking over. Dean helped Sam to the car and that was
all Sam remembered until Dean was getting him out at home. He must have stopped
and filled the prescriptions because he had them but Sam had slept through it
all.
“’m sorry,” Sam mumbled as Dean helped him onto the couch, settling his arm
across his stomach on a pillow to keep it above the level of his heart.
“Shhh, Sammy, I’m the one that’s sorry,” Dean comforted him.
Sam slept, waking up when his hand started to hurt and his bladder was telling
him that a trip to the bathroom was in order. He could hear Dean talking on the
phone, to Dad, Sam had thought at first. Sam was both relieved and anxious.
Some part of him wanted his Dad home to make everything better like he always
said he would and the other part of him feared the look of disappointment that
Sam was sure would be on Dad’s face when he saw what Sam had done.
“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean said as he walked into the living room. “I’ll call if we
need you.” Sam started to sigh with relief that it was Uncle Bobby, then his
hand tried to curl and pain made him gasp. Dean hung up the phone and was at
his side.
Making it clear that he needed to use the bathroom, Dean helped him in and to
Sam’s mortification pulled his pants down. At least he let Sam hold his own
cock and piss but he waited right there and it took Sam forever to relax enough
to pee. Pulling Sam’s pants back up and tucking his cock in, Dean helped him
back to the couch, bringing Sam one of the Oxycontin that the doctor had
prescribed him with a full glass of water.
Sam took the painkiller and then sprawled out on the couch again. “Didja call
school?” Sam asked after a bit and he was surprised to find himself slurring
his words.
“Yeah, I pick up your homework tomorrow. Sucks to be you,” Dean tried teasing
him but Sam didn’t get it.
Looking down at his arm, Sam took Dean’s words and made them sharp enough to
cut. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re not still mad at me are you?” Sam eyes rolled up
and were sparkly with unshed tears.
Dean sighed a huge sigh. “No, Sam, I’m not mad.”
“What about Dad, is Dad going to be mad?” Sam was fighting to keep his eyes
open.
“You let me worry about Dad. Sleep, Sammy.” Dean had gotten a blanket and was
tucking it around him.
“’t’s Sam,” Sam mumbled just before he fell asleep.
Sam woke up hours later, it was the middle of the night. His hand hurt and he
whimpered a little but not enough to wake Dean, who was sleeping in the
recliner across the room. At least that’s what he thought ‘til Dean spoke up.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. Sitting up, he felt the drug still in him as the room spun.
Looking over at Dean, Sam wondered why he couldn’t ever get it right with him.
Maybe Dean was sure that Sam was damned and didn’t want to be damned too. Maybe
Dean had gotten over it, over Sam. The thought made Sam feel small. He didn’t
want Dean to be damned but he couldn’t stop the way he felt like Dean seemed to
be able to, he had tried. He had tried liking girls, he had tried liking other
guys but it was Dean who was always in his thoughts. It was Dean he needed. He
hoarded every look, every word of his anymore, just because.
“Shut up, Sam,” Dean said and it was then Sam realized he had been talking out
loud. His eyes widened in panic. Dean had told him it was over and Sam hadn’t
listened and now he was going to leave like Mom, like Dad. He couldn’t catch
his breath. Then Dean was kneeling in front of him, gripping his hair.
“Sam,” Dean said and then again, “Sam, you with me?”
Sam couldn’t breathe, he had to leave. He had said too much and now Dean was
going to go. He had had enough of seeing disappointment in Dad’s eyes, he
wasn’t sure he could survive seeing it in Dean’s. His eyes darted around the
room, his thoughts racing. He had to go before Dean did.
“Sam,” Dean tried again. “Sam, I’m right here.”
Shaking his head, no no no. Dean knew how wrong he was, how fucked up he was
and he hated him. He had to, Sam hated himself.
“No, Sam,” Dean said and gripped his hair tighter, pulling their foreheads
together. “I’m the one, Sam. It’s all my fault. I did this to you.”
No, forever ago Dean had said they were okay but then they hadn’t been. It was
Sam’s fault. It was Sam’s sin not Dean’s. Dean hadn’t wanted Sam like Sam
wanted him. Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. Images of Dean fucking
other people flashed through his mind and Sam felt his stomach twist in a
desperate need to get away.
Dean seemed to know because he just tightened his hands; Sam felt his fingers
pressing against his scalp. Sam didn’t know what was going on, his mind was
racing and at this point his only thought was of escape, to get away.
Then Dean was kissing him and all thoughts of escape just left his brain.
Opening his mouth, Sam kissed Dean back. Tongues touched then slipped apart,
lips parted and came back together. Sam slid his good hand through Dean’s short
hair and held him still as they rested their foreheads together and just
breathed.
Sam put his fingers on Dean’s mouth when he started to say something.
“Don’t, please?” Sam asked. “I’m sorry, Dean.” Sam took a big breath in and
then let it out. “I’ve tried and tried t’stop feeling this way but I can’t.”
“Sam, I,” Dean started again and Sam kissed him, begging, pleading with his
lips. He breathed out when Dean’s mouth opened and let him in.
Sam was crying when Dean pulled back finally. “Sam?”
Taking a long shuddering breath in, Sam tried to speak but his throat closed.
Swallowing, Sam tried again, “”m sorry.”
“You should be, bitch,” Dean said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood and
it worked.
“Jerk,” Sam said with a small smile.
“How’s the pain?”
Sam hadn’t thought about it but now that he had calmed down his hand was
aching. “Hurts,” he said.
“Do you want some ibuprofen? The doc said you could have it with your other
pills,” Dean said quietly and Sam nodded. Then Dean was gone and back like
magic, putting a pill up to Sam’s lips and handing him the glass of water.
Sam’s hand shook as he lifted the glass but Dean let him do it on his own.
“Bathroom?” Dean asked.
Sam shook his head and moved to lie back down. “You’re not going to leave,
right?” Sam asked as he looked up into Dean’s face, Dean’s features cast in
shadows by the light in the kitchen.
“No, Sam, never.”
Sam smiled a happy smile, Dean’s words warming him inside. Closing his eyes, he
heard Dean settle into the recliner and then Sam fell asleep again.
The weeks passed with Sam returning to school and the hospital for follow up x-
rays. His hand was healing well and his bones were aligned so they started him
moving his fingers, trying to keep everything from stiffing up. Sam didn’t
forget what Dean had been doing for them, for him. He never talked about it
with Dean though and Dean seemed to think that Sam had forgotten with
everything else that had happened.
Before the cast was off, Dean had walked in on him trying to stitch a hole in
his pants. It had been hell getting the needle threaded using the wrong hand to
try to push the thread through. Settling down on the bed, Sam was trying to
keep his stitches small and even, like Dean had shown him, when Dean had walked
in.
Looking up at the noise, Sam smiled at Dean. Things had been relaxed between
them, they were in no rush to move things along but neither was Dean shutting
him out or pushing him away. Dean looked down at the pants and back up at Sam.
“What’s this?”
“Just fixing a hole.” No matter what, Sam didn’t want Dean to have to spend
money on him. Sam had cut back on the amount of food he was eating at home,
because knowing what Dean was doing to make sure Sam stayed fed and clothed was
tearing him apart.
Social services had come out and interviewed the both of them and with a smile
and a handshake they left, apparently happy with everything. Dean hadn’t even
needed Uncle Bobby to come down, so he was thrilled. They had asked Dean if he
was working and he had assured them he was, at a body shop in the next town,
but that the hours he worked allowed him to be home with Sam.
School was a different kind of torture for Sam. Knowing enough not to get
involved with any guys, he tried to just get by. Making friends meant phone
calls and going over to one another’s house and Sam couldn’t, he just couldn’t.
Trying to make Dean’s responsibility as easy as he could, he did everything he
was told, acting like the good soldier for once.
Dean woke Sam one morning with slow kisses as the sun broke over the edge of
their world. Sam kissed Dean back, running his hands though Dean’s hair and
tugging Dean down to settle between his legs. The friction of Dean’s jeans
rubbing against him nearly drove him crazy. The kiss broke and Dean smiled at
Sam.
“You’ve gotten a whole lot better,” he said.
“I had a good teacher,” Sam said and then he got a sly look in his eyes as he
wrapped his legs around the back of Dean’s legs. “Maybe . . .” Sam took a deep
breath, “maybe you can . . .” he blushed and looked away from Dean’s
questioning eyes.
“Yeah, Sam?” Dean asked with a slight smile on his face.
“Teach me more,” Sam blurted out, worried that he was pushing, “but you don’t
have to. I mean if you’re happy then I’m happy.” Sam started to panic when Dean
didn’t say anything. “How about we just forget it? I shouldn’t have said
anything, never mind,” Sam babbled.
“Shut up, Sam.”
“Huh?” Sam asked, bringing his eyes up to meet Dean’s.
Dean held Sam still, then rolling his hips against Sam, he leaned down and
kissed him. Tongues touching and tasting, breaths mingling as they broke apart
and then Dean put his hand on Sam’s mouth.
“Are you sure?” Dean asked quietly and seriously.
It finally sank into Sam’s head what Dean was offering. Not just kisses but
more. And more is what Sam wanted more than anything. Sam nodded and Dean
smiled.
Leaning down, Dean gave Sam a long slow kiss full of promises. Sam was looking
forward to making him keep them.
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