Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1694135.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester, Bobby_Singer
  Additional Tags:
      Pre-Stanford, Established_Relationship, Suspicious_John, Alcoholism, Porn
      With_Plot, Angst, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Weecest, Sam_is
      16
  Series:
      Part 1 of When_The_Levee_Breaks
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-05-26 Words: 13234
****** Wearing and Tearing ******
by IncestiousBrothers
Summary
     Sam is angry and Dean is tired. Sam is angry at John and his close-
     minded vendetta and the constant hiding from John is wearing on Dean.
     They're trying to hold everything in, trying to be patient and wait
     for the 'someday' that's always just around the corner. The bright
     sunny someday that is Sam and Dean out on their own hunting on
     weekends when Sam doesn't have too much homework and Dean isn't too
     tired from whatever his job may be. But that someday would shatter
     into a million untouchable pieces if John was ever to find out about
     what they have.
     I offered to write this for the prompt that Andromaca gave me: "Dean
     taking (consensual) pictures of Sam and John finding out."
     I started writing this with a word goal of 5,000 and as you can see I
     just kept writing.
     This is only part one.
Notes
     I decided to play it safe and tag this as Underage but to clarify Sam
     is 16 in this fic ad he and Dean have been in a relationship for 2
     years.
See the end of the work for more notes
   “A picture is a secret about a secret, the more it tells you the less you
                                    know.”
 
“Boys, come here.” Sam cringed at his book as John Winchester’s voice carried
from the kitchen. His father’s voice had always managed to sound domineering no
matter what was said. Needless to say it had never ceased to make Sam’s skin
crawl. With his father out of hearing range, Sam didn’t even bother to suppress
his annoyed sigh as he bookmarked his page.
Dean got up from his bed across the room and stretched. Joints popping like
bubble wrap. He picked up his pillow and chucked it at Sam’s head. “Jerk.” Sam
muttered.
“Bitch.” Dean replied. “He sounds pissed. What’d you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.” Sam snapped.“Besides, it’s Dad; when doesn’t he sound
pissed?” Dean inclined his head in a touché way before heading downstairs with
Sam on his heels. The Winchester boys entered the kitchen to see John packing a
bag on the rickety table that stood precariously in the middle of a space that
was egregiously referred to as a kitchen.
“Dad?” Dean immediately dropped the tough guy act when John was around. It
pained Sam to see his brother look so vulnerable every time John ridiculed him
or ignored him but not as much as it pissed him off when John noticed and still
continued to do it. “You going somewhere?”
“Yeah. A friend of mine needs help taking out a vampire nest in Billings. He’s
not sure how many and he wants back-up.” John replied with half an ear as he
pushed paper after paper into his bag.
“Well, Sam and I'll go pack.”
“No.” John said curtly, zipping his bag shut. “Alone.”
Sam raised his eyebrows in skepticism. “So you're going on a vampire hunt with
only one other person as back-up?”
“I believe that’s what I just said.” John said, getting increasingly agitated.
“What if there’s more than you can handle?”
“Then I suppose we’ll deal with that if the situation arises.” John’s
nonchalant manner was getting under Sam’s skin like cold oil. It was as if John
didn’t care if he left his children behind, because he knew he could just rely
on Dean to take care of them like he did with everything else. Needless to say,
it pissed Sam off.
Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
John finally looked up. “Problem, Sam?”
Sam fought not to roll his eyes. “Nope. Hope you have a great time.”
“Sam.” Dean snapped.
John threw his bag over his shoulder as he straightened to his full height.
“No. If your brother’s got something to say then he should be man enough to say
it.”
Sam was poised to say something else but he caught a glimpse of Dean’s face.
The normal exasperated expression was there along with a shade of being pissed.
But under that Sam saw worry and…fear. So instead Sam bit his tongue and smiled
with no happiness. “When will you be back?”
“When I get the job done. Shouldn’t be more than a day.” John grabbed his pick-
up truck’s keys off the counter and took his wallet out of his pocket. He
handed Dean a twenty. “Make it last.”
“Yes, sir.” Dean replied instinctively as he pocketed the money. He suppressed
a sigh at the meager amount of money; if John wasn’t back as soon as he said
Dean was going to have to dig into his savings. Yeah, twenty dollars would have
been plenty for one night but he and Sam hadn’t had dinner yet.
John clapped him firmly on the shoulder, pointedly ignoring Sam’s gaze. “Don’t
slack on your training just because I won’t be here. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Dean and Sam chorused predictably.
“Good.” John gave them a perusing glance that lasted about three seconds too
long. The look was the one that John usually reserved for monsters that
promised to do right or tried to hide what they were. It made Dean and Sam’s
hair stand on end. “Call me if anything happens and I’ll make sure to call if
I’ll be late.”
“Yes, sir.” The brothers said again. And without a goodbye or a backwards
glance, John left.
Dean waited until the truck’s heavy engine turned over and faded away before
turning to his brother. “What the hell, Sam? He was leaving; you couldn’t shut
it for five fucking minutes?”
Sam didn’t even see the point in replying; they’d had this argument before one
too many times. “I’ll be upstairs.”
“Like hell you will.” Dean crossed in front of Sam and blocked the stairs.
“What’s been up with you lately?” Sam said nothing, just stubbornly stared at
the space behind Dean. After a few seconds Dean deflated. “Come on, Sam. You
know you can talk to me…at least you should.”
“Not when I know what I’ll say will just piss you off.” Sam finally said.
Dean steadfastly unfolded his arms. “What’s pissing me off right now is you
 shutting me out and trying to piss Dad off as much as possible.”
It was Sam’s turn to deflate. Had he really been doing that? The John thing,
sure, but shutting Dean out. That was the last thing Sam wanted to do. Aside
from the less than normal side of their relationship, Sam and Dean were still
closer than the average brothers. Dean liked to think that their closeness was
attributed to the fact that they were the only stationary things in their life;
the constant moving never allowed them to make lasting relationships aside from
their own. But Sam didn’t think so, he was sure that even if in another life
Dean weren’t his brother, he would have still loved –and been in love– with
him. “I didn't mean to shut you out.” Sam tried to assure his brother. “It’s
just…”
“What?” Dean prodded, the sharpness was gone from his voice. “Something wrong?”
Sam clenched his hands into fists and shoved them into his pockets. “I’m just
angry all the time…” Even the thought of his constant anger had flared Sam’s
blood pressure; the only thing worse than being constantly angry was not being
able to get rid of the cause without hurting the one person who mattered. Sam
knew that the only thing stopping him from sucker-punching John in the face and
telling him to go fuck himself was Dean. As hard as Dean tried to mask it, Sam
and John’s fights while never going past spit-showered shouts scared him beyond
belief and if Sam could do anything to make Dean’s life just a little easier
he’d do it.
“At who? Me?” Dean ventured. Leave it to Dean to assume that he was doing
something wrong when he was doing everything right. Sam had long ago stopped
letting it get to him, he’d just accepted it as the way his brother was; taking
the fall for things other people he cared about did to spare them.
“No. At Dad.” Sam didn’t even bother to keep the derision out of his tone.
“Why? This is the first fight you guys have had–.”
“In two weeks and three days.” Sam finished. “I’ve been avoiding him, Dean,
like the plague. You can’t have not noticed how he’s been looking at me lately.
Like I’m some demon in a meatsuit.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” Dean relented. And though Dean would never say it out loud
he he’d noticed that their fights had begun to frequent after Sam’s birthday.
Sam looked at his shoes. They were worn and about one and a half sizes too
small; he was going to need new ones soon. Maybe green ones. That was his
favorite color. “I’m sorry, I think I just didn’t want to see that you were
looking at me like that too.”
Dean shook his head. “Never, Sammy.” And before an awkward silence could take
over Dean roughly mussed Sam’s hair. “What were you in the mood for, Sammy?”
Sam ducked out from under his brother’s hand but not before he leaned into the
touch just for a second. “Burgers.” He actually in the mood for grilled cheese
but if it made Dean happy then why not?
Dean gasped and pretended to wipe a tear away. “Oh, Sammy.”
Sam made a bitchface and put on his jacket. “Not a vegetarian, you know.”
“Might as well be.” Dean teased as he did the same. “Milkshakes?”
“Nah.” Sam smiled at Dean’s pout. “Root beer floats.”
Since the diner was only about a mile from the house they were squatting in,
Sam and Dean decided to walk. As soon as they stepped out into the thirty
degree weather, Dean threw his arm around Sam’s shoulder. They could have
talked; had a conversation about Sam’s school life or Dean’s job, but both of
them seemed to feel that the evening ambiance was perfect just as it was.
===============================================================================
When Dean took his arm from around Sam to open the door of the diner, Sam
shivered –he’d gotten used to the warmth. If Dean noticed he said nothing, just
put his arm back around his brother as they walked up to the hostess’ podium.
“Booth or table?” The hostess asked, of course, her eyes only for Dean. She was
kinda pretty, Sam decided. Pretty, sure, but average. Blonde hair, brown eyes,
curvy figure, and a perfect smile that only came from years of embarrassing
braces.
“We’ll take a booth please.” Sam spoke up. Her eyes flicked to Sam only to go
back to Dean.
The hostess frowned at her pad. “I’m sorry. We only have one booth left and
it’s near the kitchen all the way in the back, sort of in the boonies of the
diner. If you want you can wait for–.”
“That’s actually perfect, miss.” Sam fought not to roll his eyes when Dean
winked at her. Such a schmoozer. Sam didn’t really let Dean’s obviously innate
flirting get to him anymore, not when he knew that he was one Dean came home
to. In fact, Sam actually pitied the girl; she only got to ogle while Sam had
the privilege to touch.
The hostess blushed. "Okay, then. Follow me."
They walked to the back of the restaurant to a booth that was almost completely
obscured from any other patrons. Dean slid in as the hostess placed their menus
in front of them. Before she could ask Dean said, "One root beer float and a
chocolate shake please with extra whipped cream on both."
The hostess nodded stiffly before walking away, slightly affronted. Sam grinned
at his brother over the top of menu as he perused the options. "I think I want
the turkey burger."
Dean smirked. He knew that was what his brother was going to order. "Whatever
you want, Sammy." Dean hadn't even bothered opening the menu; he’d already
decided what he wanted before they had stepped into the place.
"Maybe a double order of fries too." The smell of hot oil and meat coming from
the kitchen had ratcheted Sam’s hunger from hungry to ravenous.
Dean shook his head as a different waitress set down their drinks. "How you
still manage to beat me on our three-mile run will never cease to fucking amaze
me."
"Don't know why.” Sam licked a dollop of whipped cream off the top of his
drink. “It's obvious you're just slow."
"Oh, fuck you."
Sam made a nonchalant turtle face. "Maybe later." Dean choked on his straw.
The waitress laughed as she pulled out her pen and pad. "What can I get for you
two?"
"He'll have the double bacon cheeseburger, extra bacon." Sam said for Dean as
he expertly held in his laughter. "And I'll have the turkey burger with Swiss
cheese extra fries. Also could I get a cup a water?"
The waitress nodded as she finished taking down their order. "Okie dokie!
Coming right up." She took their menus and walked back to the kitchen.
With the background noise of chatter in the diner it seemed awkward for them
not to talk. Dean stole a sip of Sam's float before clearing his throat. "So
how's school?"
"Fine." Sam replied like a knee-jerk reaction.
Dean raised an eyebrow. "I'm not Dad, you know. I'm not going get pissed or
give you some lecture because you like school, Sam."
Sam nodded. "Sorry. Habit." He smiled in thanks as the waitress brought his
water. "School's good. Not really into math but English is pretty interesting.
We're on our Shakespeare unit."
"Where for art thou Romeo?" Dean teased.
Sam face stayed serious as he played with the foam of his drink. “‘Deny thy
father and refuse thy name.’" When Dean remained silent, Sam finally looked up.
"Fitting, huh?”
"Yeah. Except our story isn't going to end with us offing ourselves. We're too
smart for that."
"Are we?" Sam chuckled. "Then how will our story end?"
"Anyway you want it to." Dean hadn’t realized how true that was until he said
it out loud. He knew he’d die for his brother but it had never really
registered that he was willing to do anything for Sam as long as it made him
happy even if that included leaving him.
"You don't mean that." Sam assured him. He began ripping the damp napkin his
root beer float once occupied into small pieces.
"Try me." Dean took a sip of his slowly melting milkshake. If his brother still
thought that there was anything that he wouldn't do for him then that wasn't on
him.
"I don't have to, Dean.” Sam met Dean’s eyes with a deprecating smirk. “I know
you. We don't want the same things."
Dean tried to come up with a reply when the waitress arrived with their food.
They ate in silence.
The walk back to their house was just as quiet as the first but it was
different now. The silence was now weighed down by the boys' thoughts and
restless with the curiosity to know the other's. As soon as Sam was over the
threshold he headed upstairs. "Gonna take a shower."
Dean forced himself to keep his mouth shut. As much as Sam loved to talk, if he
thought he'd be ridiculed he would turn stubbornly mute. Dean plopped himself
down on the couch and turned on the TV. He was fairly certain that nothing
would be on; it wasn't like they could afford cable in a house they weren't
legally living in. But after flipping for a few moments, Dean settled on a
movie he’d remembered starting a while ago.
                       –You get along with your parents?
                   –Well, if I say yes I'm an idiot, right?
–You're an idiot anyway. But if you say you get along with your parents, well,
                              you're a liar too.
Dean smiled, settling into the couch. He decided that he was most like Bender,
with his fuck-authority attitude, though something told him that he was a lot
like Andrew too for reasons he didn’t want to delve into. The movie ended in a
perfectly nostalgic way that made you want to go back to the beginning and
watch it all over again until it filled some nonexistent bottomless hole in
your chest. Dean was humming Don’t You as Sam finished his shower.
"Left you some hot water.” Sam said from the bottom of the stairs. Despite the
fact that Sam never went long periods without bathing, Dean had always
appreciated his brother even more after a shower. Sam’s hair was almost russet
as water clung to it –he had always preferred to let it air-dry–, his cheeks
were flush pink from the hot water, and the soap Sam used emanated from his
skin from feet away.
“Thanks.” Dean relented. Without even thinking about it he outstretched his arm
on the back of the couch and put his feet on the floor. He started channel
surfing again. Sam took his usual spot against Dean's side. It didn't escape
Dean's notice that Sam was wearing one of his sleep shirts instead of his own.
Dean couldn’t stop himself from inhaling Sam's mint shampoo before leaning
back. Sam commandeered the remote and flipped back to the movie channel where
an old black and white was starting.
Sam had started to zone out as the opening credits faded in and out across the
screen. It took him awhile to realize that Dean had been looking at him.
"What?"
"If you have to ask then it doesn't matter, now does it?" Dean was pulling his
arm back to his side when Sam deliberately put his weight against him,
preventing him from moving.
"You're mad." Sam stated as he scrutinized Dean as if the longer he did the
faster he’d find out why.
Dean focused on the TV. "I'm not mad, Sam."
"Bullshit." Sam disputed.
Dean rolled his eyes and swiftly got up from the couch, letting Sam fall
against the cushions. He stalked to the kitchen and got a beer out of the
fridge. John must have noticed the beer not lasting as long as it usually did
but he had yet to comment. Sam had made it painstakingly clear that he thought
beer tasted like crap so it was really only one guess as to who was drinking
it. Dean used the edge of the counter to pop the cap off.
"Can I at least know what I did?"
Dean took a long sip of his beer. "You didn’t do anything.”
Sam face collapsed into a vicious sneer. “Fuck you, Dean. You wanna be pissed?
Fine. Get over it or talk about it. I don’t care which. But pick one, you don’t
get to just be pissed at me and then pretend like you aren’t.”
"I need some air." Dean tossed the rest of his beer into the trash and headed
to the door, grabbing his keys on his way out. If he stayed any longer he felt
like he would say something he would regret and no one could hold a grudge like
Sam. He’d learned how to from Dean.
"Yeah." Sam snapped. "Leave like you always do."
"I'm not the one that wants to leave, Sam. You are."
Sam was between Dean and the door in seconds. Sam didn’t look angry anymore,
worried and confused was more like it. Dean watched as the gears turned in
Sam’s head as he went through his memories, trying to understand where Dean was
getting this apparent miscommunication. "When have I ever said that?" Sam’s
voice was no longer harsh and questioning; but quiet and hurt.
"At the diner. ‘I know you, Dean. We don't want the same things.’" Dean’s
horrible impression of Sam’s voice nearly had Sam laughing but Dean’s next
words pulled Sam’s throat tight. "You want to end this then just fucking do it,
I am not some panting slut you can just string along until you're done."
"I never said you were!" Sam blurted. "When I said that...I didn't mean it like
that–."
"Then what did you mean?" Dean interrupted. His anger-tense body was slowly
loosening, he could tell when Sam was lying or not telling him everything and
this wasn’t one of those times.
"I meant that we’re different people.” Sam gestured pointedly to Dean and
himself. “I don't want to hunt for the rest of my life or have to change
schools in the middle of the year because we’re constantly squatting in
abandoned houses or moving from motel to motel. I just want stability. I want
to know that wherever I am I’ll be there in the next year because no matter
what I’ll read in the newspaper I won’t go running after some creature. And
I–."
"And you can't have that with me?" Dean made a self-pitying smirk.
"No, I can’t. Because it wouldn't be fair to you." Sam finally looked at his
brother and let the words flow out in a rush. “I can’t ask you to change your
life for me, Dean, because I’ll know you’ll do it. And you’ll do it because you
think it will make me happy but it won’t because I won’t ever be happy if I
know that you–.”
“Whoa, whoa.” Dean shook his head furiously at Sam’s panicked word vomit. "What
the hell are you talking about, Sam?"
"You like hunting Dean, it's your life–." Sam was cut off by a noise. "Dean?"
Dean had scoffed. "Who the fuck told you that?"
"What?" Sam was still trying to catch up with his brother's sudden mood change.
"Sam, I like hunting, sure. Is it my life? Maybe to Dad it is but I don't want
to be in my 30’s with hunting as my career." Dean met Sam's shocked gaze with a
knowing smile. "So that's what that was? You thought I would choose hunting
over you?"
Sam raised his eyebrows. "You thought I was going to dump you for the next hot
guy to cross my path."
"Touché." Dean put the keys back and walked to the living room where the movie
was still on. "Can you blame me though? You've been such a prude these past few
weeks." He horizontally collapsed on the couch; taking up the love seat in its
entirety.
Sam scowled at his brother's position for a moment before smiling a not-smile
and sliding into the divot of Dean's legs. Now that Sam was older and knew
about the life, John had rarely left for hunts on his own but when he did Sam
and Dean took full advantage of his absence. Hiding their relationship got
tiring and they never knew when they would get a chance to be alone again.
"Have not."
"Have too but I get it now." Dean smiled at Sam. There wasn’t any sign of
discomfort or anger on his brother’s face. Dean liked this side of Sam; it
reminded him of when he was younger and didn’t need to know about the real
things that lurked in the dark. When the only wounds he got were from slipping
off monkey bars and burns from slides.
Sam looked up at his brother. "Thanks." His gaze drifted from Dean’s eyes to
his lips, before leaning forward. Sam was content to wait for Dean to give the
go-ahead.
"Don't mention it." Dean told him just before he closed the distance. Like most
of their kisses it escalated fast, mostly due to Sam’s raging hormones and
Dean’s raging libido. Dean surged upward into a sitting position and man-
handled Sam to straddle his lap. The brothers groaned in tandem as Sam’s cock
and Dean’s denim-clad dick met.
Dean slowly slid his hands under Sam's sleep shirt and tugged it off, drawing
his blunt nails along the sensitive skin of his brother's back. Sam shivered
but arched his back into the touch. "Dean."
Dean opened his mouth and pressed his tongue into the seam of Sam's lips as he
let his hands slip under the elastic of his brother's sweats. He wrapped a
loose fist around Sam's cock. "This what you want, Sammy?"
Sam nodded vigorously and whispered. "Please."
Dean leaned forward and tongued one of Sam's nipples but Sam didn't make a
noise until Dean let his teeth graze the sensitive skin. "Come on, Sammy. Don't
have to be quiet. No one to hear us." At Dean's words, Sam let out a wanton
noise that could have gotten the most conservative of men hard. "There you go."
Dean, refusing to kiss Sam's mouth, kissed his neck. "Make such pretty noises."
Dean forgot himself for a moment and attacked Sam's neck with a vengeance. It
had been so long since they had been this close without the feeling of needing
to look over their shoulders every second that Dean had trouble reeling himself
in and taking his time. He would have been lying if he said that he wasn’t
secretly leaping for joy when John had told them that he had wanted to go on
this hunt alone; and the fact that John was going to be gone for a minimum of a
day just sweetened the deal. Sam tilted his head back, wanting Dean paint his
throat with crimson-violet smudges but a voice in the back of his head made him
stop his brother before he went too far. "Dean. Can't. He'll see."
Dean groaned and moved down his brother's smooth chest; Sam could keep his
shirt on for their training sessions. Sam tried to open Dean's fly but fumbled
until Dean caught his wrist and helped him. “Fuck.” Dean muttered at the first
touch of Sam’s hand.
Sam bit his lip and began thrusting faster into Dean's grip. He wanted to come
as fast as possible; this teetering at the edge was almost painful after being
denied it for such a long time. But Dean of course had other ideas. "No need to
rush, Sammy. He's gone."
Dean wordlessly tapped Sam’s leg and without hesitation Sam lifted the bottom
half of his body up so Dean could take off his pants. Sam gasped at the feel of
his brother’s jeans against his skin. “Dean.” Sam whimpered, like a little boy
wanting his current tantrum to be indulged. His fraught tone triggered memories
of desperateness in Dean.
It was like flipping a switch. Dean spit into his palm before tightening his
hand and speeding up. "Oh, fuck." Sam moaned as a rush of white-hot heat
engulfed his nerve endings. Dean watched his brother's face with unmasked awe
as he came. Not everyone made the most attractive face when they came but Sam
did. His hazel eyes unfocused and his eyelids fluttered and shut tight, his
brow furrowed, and his perfect red-pink mouth fell open just before clamping
shut. Sam, in the throes of his orgasm, let his hand fall slack and a small
brush against the head of Dean’s cock had him coming.
While Sam caught his breath, Dean finished undressing himself. He caught a
glimpse of Sam's watch. 10:30. It was getting late and just the thought of
falling asleep on the couch had Dean cringing. "Do you want to stay down here
or go up?"
Sam lifted his head slightly from Dean's shoulder and groaned. "Stairs."
Dean laughed. "I can fix that." With practiced expertise, Dean lifted his
brother into his arms and carried him up the stairs to their room.
===============================================================================
The next morning, Sam woke up to white light. He opened his eyes to see
luminescent light streaming through the slats of the dust-covered blinds. Sam
narrowed his eyes. It usually wasn’t this bright when he woke up, his John-
induced internal alarm clock usually had him up before dawn. He must have
overslept. Sam turned to Dean’s side of the bed to find it unoccupied. He ran
his hand over the sheets; they were cold, Dean hadn’t been in bed for a while.
Sam listened for the sound of a shower running or the TV on or even the radio.
There was nothing. The silence was so sharp that Sam’s ears rung.
“Dean?” Sam called; his voice cracking from sleep. “Dean!” Sam got up and
looked for a note. Dean always left a note. Sam scoured the bed, nightstand,
and even the kitchen counter and table downstairs for a slip of paper with
Dean’s neat script. Nothing. Sam grabbed at the telephone nailed to the kitchen
wall. Not even a dial tone echoed from the phone. That’s what they got for
living in a barely habitable house in a bumfuck town. “Damn it.” He knew he
should have pushed harder for John to get him a cellphone.
Sam ran back to his room and got dressed. To just have something to do with his
hands –they refused to keep shaking– or to go out and look for Dean, he hadn’t
decided yet. A nervous rabble of butterflies refused to settle in Sam’s
stomach; a million bloody scenarios bounced around his head like a pinball
machine with fifty too many marbles. He just didn’t feel right with Dean not
here. It wasn’t until Sam was pulling on his socks that he realized there was
only one duffel bag in the closet. Sam looked in the far back and on the top
shelf of the closet; not even a smudge of dust. Dean hadn’t gone out. Dean had
left. He wasn’t coming back. Sam stood slowly and walked back to the bed.
When Sam had finished getting dressed, he trekked to the bathroom to brush his
teeth. Halfway through brushing his molars, Sam’s resolve broke. Fear,
mortification, and anger unleashed themselves from behind Sam’s hastily built
walls in the form of tears. Sam’s harsh sobs made him choke on the foamy
toothpaste, forcing another flood of tears to the surface. He tried to spit it
out but some had managed to slip down his throat the wrong way and had him
bending over the toilet. Sam would have liked to think that the muted burn of
his stomach acid had brought the third torrent of tears to his eyes, but even
he couldn’t lie to himself so blatantly.
Once Sam had gotten himself to calm down he washed his mouth out with cold
water until his teeth ached. He knew he should call John but he couldn’t deal
with the inevitable blame the man would no doubt put on him. Suddenly, the door
flung open. “Sam!” A voice too much like Dean’s shouted. “Oh, good, you’re
already down here. Listen, can–? What the hell?” One second Dean was walking
through the door and the next he was getting pushed into the wall by his
brother.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sam bit out; his voice hoarse and sob-
thick.
“What do you mean? You been crying, Sammy?” Dean reached up to wipe at Sam’s
red-rimmed eyes but his brother jerked away from his touch.
“Don’t touch me and don’t call me that.” Sam backed away from Dean and grabbed
his coat. “I would say I’ll see you later but with you I wouldn’t bet on it.”
“Sam, where are you going? Sam!” Dean deepened his voice to John vibrato. Sam
stopped. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“What’s going on with me? What’s going on with me is that I wake up this
morning to a fucking empty house with no note and your bag gone. So you fucking
tell me, Dean, what the hell was I supposed to think?”
“What the hell are you talking about, Sam? I always leave a note.” Dean sighed.
“I left it on my pillow. Now I that I think about it, I probably shouldn’t have
considering how much you move in your sleep. I left to run some errands since
we’re probably going to be stuck inside for a while; errands like laundry which
is why my duffel was gone. I’m sorry, Sammy.”
Sam’s hands were shaking so badly they were starting to hurt. Sure, Dean wasn’t
leaving and hadn't been planning to but that didn’t erase the feeling of Dean
being gone. Not storming out after a fight. Not going out to work a late shift
at a bar. Not leaving for a hunt with John. Just gone; leaving emotionally-
unstable John Winchester to pick up the pieces of what would have been left of
a broken Sam. The feeling was worse than a phantom limb it was the pain of
having a limb removed with no reprieve. “No.” Sam attempted to clear the sob-
shaped lump in his throat. “I'm sorry. I overreacted. I think I’m gonna go for
a walk.”
“Walk?” There was a smile in Dean’s voice. “Sammy? Have you looked outside?”
Before he could register his brother’s question, let alone answer it Dean had
taken his hand and was dragging him to the closest window. Sam let out a quiet
awestricken breath as he took in the image before him. The acre-sized open
field that spanned behind and from the sides of the house was completely
covered in a seamless stark white sheet of snow. Sam hadn't yet had the
privilege of experiencing a snowfall like this. They had always been on the
wrong side of the country at the right time of the year, vice versa, or on
their way out before the snow had begun to stick properly. Aside from Dean, Sam
thought that he had never seen something so perfect, so infinite. “Not really
walking atmosphere, Sammy.”
“Dean, can we…?” Sam started, not taking his eyes away from the snowy expanse
for a second. A part of him wanted to experience it firsthand but the other
part of him wanted it be left just the way it was; undisturbed.
“No, we’re gonna stay inside all day and look at it.” Dean said with a snort,
he pulled a brand new pair of dark green gloves and a matching hat and scarf
from a Wal*Mart bag. He unceremoniously ripped the tags off them and handed
them to his brother. He took another set –blue this time– out of the bag,
emptying it, and put them on. When he looked up, Sam was now by the front door
practically bouncing on his toes. “Now, what type of a brother would I be if I
let my baby brother go out in the snow with those shoes on?” Dean teased.
Sam looked down at his ratted sneakers. “Uh…a good one?”
Dean gave Sam his own version of his bitchface. “Nice try. Go put your boots
on.” Sam hesitated for just a moment; taking a look out the window as if the
snow was going melt within the time it would take him to put the proper shoes
on. Reason won out and Sam raced upstairs and was back down with seconds,
tripping over the last few steps but catching himself. “Careful, Sammy. It’s
not like the snow’s going anywhere.”
Sam barely paid his brother any mind as he headed for the door. He had barely
had his hand on the doorknob for a second before Dean was calling his name
again. Sam had trouble holding in the child-like whine he wanted to release.
“Sammy.” Dean said in a sing-song voice. “Coat.” Sam ripped his coat off the
hook by the door and harshly tugged it on. “Now?”
Dean tried to hide his smile but failed. “Yeah, Sammy. Now.” Sam was out the
door so fast, Dean didn’t even see it. Dean followed behind at a normal pace,
but when he got outside, he was shocked to see Sam standing on the top two
steps of their porch; as close as he could get to the snow without touching.
“It has a smell. I didn’t think it would.” Sam whispered, as if the snow would
deflate under any harsher volume.
“What does it smell like?” Dean asked, to him it just smelled like snow.
“I don’t know; just clean and new.” Sam supplied, taking a deep breath before
stepping down one more stair. The tough snow crunched loudly under his heavy
boots. “I thought it would be softer like walking on cotton.”
Dean stepped down to Sam’s step as well, taking in the snow. “Well, Sammy,
you’ve smelled it, seen it, and heard it, now it’s time for the other two.”
“What?”
Dean took a handful of snow off the railing and patted it down to a ball, he
took his brother’s hand into his and took off his glove. “Here.” Sam shivered
as the snow immediately began to melt in the palm of his hand. After a second
of disinclination, Sam brought the white stuff to his mouth and took a small
bite. There was a faint earthy taste but nevertheless it tasted good. Sam
looked up just in time to see Dean staring at him, he blushed even more but it
wasn’t from the bitter air.
Dean cleared his throat before looking away to the still untouched open space.
“Wanna race? First one to the trees and back doesn’t have to make breakfast.”
Sam dropped the ball of snow and slipped his glove back on. “You’re on.”
Dean pulled his legs to his lower back in turn as Sam did the same. “1…2…3.”
Even though Dean was technically running before he said three Sam had gotten
the lead when he long jumped over the last few steps.
“Cheater!” Dean called. Sam just laughed a laugh that to Dean settled just
right into the empty too-quiet crevices of the bright morning. Sam made it to
the forest just moments before Dean and was turning back before he could blink.
“Damn it.” Dean cursed, tapping into his reserves to close the distance between
him and Sam. Sam was mere feet from the porch when Dean finally closed in on
him and tackled him to the somewhat soft snow-covered ground. At least four
inches of snow broke their fall. Well, Sam’s fall, Sam broke Dean’s fall.
Sam’s breaths came out in a foggy huffs as he sucked in sweet snow-scented air
into his starving lungs. Dean smirked. “You…didn’t…really think…that…you
would…beat me…did you…Sammy?”
Sam smirked right back, though it was more of a grimace when his stomach
started cramping. “Jerk…I did beat you.”
“Nope. Tie.” Sam tried to get up but Dean didn’t budge. He looked up to see
what the deal was but all he found were worry-filled green eyes. “This
morning…you really thought I had left you.” It wasn’t question. Sam turned away
as much as possible when he felt the all-too-familiar sting behind his eyes. He
shrugged. But Dean wasn’t taking any non-answers today, not about this. “Answer
me, Sam.”
Sam let out a shaky breath. “I think about it all the time.” This time Dean
didn’t rush him; letting his brother find the words. “You, getting scared of
Dad finding out or just coming to your senses because we’re brothers…and just
leaving. Not because you want to hurt me but because you think I deserve better
or you’re protecting me.” The traitorous tears finally pooled out of his
already sore eyes. The white-hot tears stung his numb face like fireworks. Dean
caught them with his thumbs before they could reach his ears.
“Sammy, listen to me, really listen to me because I am not going to say it
again. I am never going to leave you, Sam, not even if Dad finds out. Because
we’re not hurting anyone and we’re not doing anything wrong. And I’ve had about
three fucking years to get over the fact that you’re my brother and the funny
thing is, it only took me about fifteen minutes.” Sam continued to look away.
Dean exhaled hotly over Sam’s face. “Fine.” Dean muttered. “You want me to say
it, I’ll say it.”
“No.” Sam spoke, so quiet that even with their proximity Dean had trouble
hearing him. “I want you to say it because you want to, because you mean it,
not because you think I want you say it. Just because Dad doesn’t say it
doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.” Sam tried once again to stand but Dean held him
down. “Get off me.” Sam put his hands on Dean’s chest and pushed but Dean took
ahold of his wrists and held them above his head.
“You don’t get it, do you? I don’t like saying it because words don’t mean
shit, Sam. At least not to me but apparently they mean something to you. So
yeah, for you, I’ll say them, not because I don’t feel them but because I can
show you better.”
Sam nudged Dean away so he could look at him. “Then show me.”
There was a split second absolute silence before Dean pushed his face into
Sam’s. Could they really call it a kiss? Kisses were what characters did at the
ends of fairytales. And this, this, was so much fucking more. This was a
joining; a preliminary melding of two beings. Dean, without thinking, rucked up
Sam’s shirt, trying to feel more of Sam’s skin so eager to break through what
little space was left between them. Sam winced when the ice-cold snow hit his
skin. Dean groaned in frustration as he got up, unforgivingly pulling Sam along
behind him.
The moment they were inside the warmth of the house, Dean slammed Sam against
the wall and held him there with a mere look as he began to take off their
clothes. As soon as they were both naked, Dean pressed his body to Sam’s,
kissing every inch of Sam’s skin that he could reach. Sam tried to reciprocate
but Dean refused to let him do anything. So much so that Dean finally gave up
being nice and once again held Sam’s wrists to the wall behind him. “You wanted
me to show you, Sammy. You gonna let me?”
Sam nodded but still tried to thrust up against Dean who pulled back. Dean
growled and man-handled Sam to the floor, forcing his legs apart with his body.
Sam didn’t even bother holding back his moan when Dean’s cock brushed up
against his. “De–.” Dean forced his brother into silence with another kiss.
Dean pried open Sam’s mouth with his own, swallowing the moans Sam unleashed
into his mouth. He shuddered when the thought that no other soul on this Earth
and beyond would hear the sounds that Sam was making floated across his mind. A
heated rush ebbed just under Dean’s skin, pushing every one of his urges and
desires to an all-new level. He bit at Sam’s bottom lip and when Sam whined he
sucked on it until Sam calmed. Dean held Sam’s face still as he traced D after
D on the roof of his mouth with his tongue until Sam started shivering.
Dean finally –reluctantly– pulled away from Sam’s mouth to drag his lips over
Sam’s chest down to his hipbones. Sam whined when he felt Dean’s gaze and
breath on his cock. “Dean, please.” Dean knew what Sam was asking for but if
there was anything that Dean loved more than pleasing Sam it was catching him
off guard. Dean breathed one more hot breath over Sam’s cock and smiled when it
twitched. But instead of going for his brother’s cock, Dean let go of Sam’s
hands to pull his thighs apart. “Oh, God.” Sam said, before Dean even started.
“That’s it, Sammy.” Dean encouraged.Dean bent to blow a cool breath over Sam’s
hole. Sam flushed under the inspection and instinctively tried to close his
legs but Dean was right there in his space to kiss away his insecurities. “Uh-
uh. Don’t be shy, baby boy. You think I’d look if I didn’t like it?” Sam shook
his head. “Then let me look and I promise I’ll fuck you with my tongue so good
you won’t even ask for my cock.” Sam shuddered, half from Dean’s words and half
from his brother’s lips brushing against his ear. Without warning, Dean was
gone and something hot-wet-perfect sealed over his hole.
Dean licked a long slow line forward and backward over Sam’s hole before adding
suction that had him moaning a porno-worthy noise that nearly had Dean coming.
Dean took ahold of Sam’s thighs with a vice-like grip that was sure to leave
bruises and went to town. He let his brother’s legs fall to the warm crooks of
his elbows before he stiffened his tongue and stabbed it into Sam’s hole only
to take it out and circle the rim. That motion had Sam choking on a moan which
Dean took as encouragement and repeated until his brother’s body fell limp.
Dean stopped for a moment to make sure Sam was still with him. Sam’s eyes were
half-lidded and his kiss-swollen lips were permanently muttering Dean’s name
linked together by arbitrary words.
“Sammy?” Dean moved back to his brother’s space, letting his hands stroke his
inner thighs and the space so close to his cock that Sam bucked into the
direction of his hands.
“Dean.” Sam said hoarsely, when Dean's fingers impishly toyed with his wet
opening. “I want...” Sam pushed down against his unduly gentle fingers.
“Please.” Dean ignored Sam’s pleas in favor of his mouth. Dean kissed Sam with
newfound vigor; not letting either of them stop for something as trivial as
air. Dean tapped Sam’s ribs, signaling to him that it was okay to move his arms
now. Sam’s hands immediately dropped to Dean’s head, clutching what little hair
he could as Dean did the same. The kiss transformed from all pliant tongue and
lips to biting teeth and twisted noses.
With their lips still attached, Dean slowly slipped a finger into Sam. Sam
groaned at the burn but tacitly asked for another with his hips. Instead of
adding just one though, Dean took the initiative and gave two more of his
fingers to Sam. Sam pulled away from Dean’s mouth to let out a scream that was
equal parts arousal and pain. “Oh, fuck.” Sam’s voice was so wrecked, Dean
wanted to check to see if he had come. “Dean.” There was no tell-tale
inflection in his voice for pleads of more or mercy, just a stating of a name.
Dean slowly fucked his fingers in and out of his brother as he sucked mark
after mark on Sam’s chest. He took his time, spreading and scissoring his
fingers even though he wasn’t planning on fucking his brother for real. He was
saving that for later. After about a minute, Dean kicked it up a notch; he
tilted his fingers just right to press against Sam’s prostate, once he found it
he kept it between his two forefingers. Sam called out so loudly that Dean felt
a secondhand strain in his throat. “Sam?” Dean leaned back to loom over his
baby brother, taking in his still wet lips and clammy face. “You almost there?”
Sam nodded vigorously, his breaths expelling in hiccup-like increments. “Yeah,
Dean, I’m gonna–.”
Dean wrapped his other hand like a vice around Sam’s cock. “You’re gonna what?”
“Come.” Sam’s voice was slurred like a lush’s. “Pl’se, De.”
“Not until you say it.” Dean refused to stroke Sam’s cock; he knew his brother
could come from nothing more than Dean’s words and fingers in his ass.
“I love you.” Sam said, putting every ounce of meaning he could into the words.
“I know you do, baby boy. But that’s not what I want to hear.” When Sam opened
his mouth to try again, Dean kissed him, postponing the words for another few
moments so this moment lasted just a little bit longer. The kiss went on until
Sam forcibly yet aversely pulled his mouth away from Dean’s.
“You love me. I know that you love me, Dean.”
And that was it, all Dean wanted to hear. All Dean needed to know. That he
loved Sam and that Sam knew he did so he would never question it again. Dean
opened his hand around Sam’s cock and pressed his own into his grip and started
to hit his sweet spot with a vengeance. “Oh, my…” Sam couldn’t or didn’t bother
to find anymore words. He just wanted to feel. He let his legs fall open wider
and his hands fall from Dean’s neck to the floor. Dean bit his lip to the point
of pain as he thrust against his brother’s pliant body until he felt the tell-
tale split-second tension cord itself around Sam’s limbs just before coming.
One touch of Sam’s cock twitching against his and his brother’s hole pulsing
around his fingers had Dean following right behind his brother.
Dean fell forward against Sam’s chest, letting his head rest into the crook of
his neck. He was breathing in the Sam smells mixed with sweat and savored the
aroma, when Dean’s phone rang. Both boys jumped at the shrill noise. Dean came
to his senses first and was rushing to get the phone before it could stop
ringing. He placed a hand over the bottom of the receiver to catch his breath
before answering. “Hello?”
“Dean, it’s me.” John’s below-the-staff voice statically drifted through the
old phone.
“Dad?”
“I called twice. What did I tell you about keeping your phone on you at all
times?” John snapped. Dean winced; he hadn’t heard it ring and of course hadn’t
had it near his body to feel it vibrate.
“Sorry, sir. I was in the shower; I left it in the bedroom.” Dean shuddered at
how easy the lie slipped off his lips.
“It’s fine.” John replied in a voice that meant the exact opposite. “Just
letting you know we’re done but I’m making a pit stop for a lead on The Demon…I
should be back by tonight, maybe tomorrow morning. Leave the door unlocked and
start packing. We’re going to Bobby’s.”
“Yes, sir.” Something in Dean’s gut told him that John was actually closer than
he was saying but he let it go. All he got in reply was dead air followed by a
dial tone. Dean hung up and walked slowly back to Sam and took his place beside
him on the floor. He turned into Sam’s shoulder throwing an arm over his chest.
“That was Dad, he’s gonna be back by tonight. Told us to pack ‘cause we’re
going down to Bobby’s.”
Sam, at first, said nothing. There wasn’t much to say, was there? John was once
again unknowingly infringing on Sam and Dean’s alone time and they were going
to have to go through another indefinite bout of being just brothers. “Dean?”
Sam said quietly.
“Hmmf?” Dean’s affirmative response muffled into Sam’s skin.
“Why’d you buy a camera?”
Dean looked up to the door where he had dropped his duffel and the grocery
bags; the traditional gold box was lying beside them. When Sam had pushed him
the camera must’ve fallen out of one of the bags. “Oh. I knew how you were
gonna be about the snow so I wanted to take some pictures of you and the
scenery I guess so we’d remember it.” Dean rolled himself off Sam, settling
beside his brother. As he expected, the old hardwood floor was uncomfortably
cold and rigid but it was second-thought when his cool body made contact with
Sam’s forever-warm skin.
“How many pictures on the roll?” Sam asked, absentmindedly started tracing the
bones on the back of Dean’s right hand.
“It’s brand new; so 27?” Dean let his eyes close, listening to and answering
Sam’s questions with half an ear.
“Oh.” Sam said noncommittally.
“Why?” Dean asked, sliding his unoccupied hand over Sam’s.
“…Nothing.” At that tone of voice, Dean’s protective instinct had his eyes open
and his lazy brain alert within a second.
“Sammy?” Dean started to lean up to look fully at his brother only to have Sam
closed his eyes and looked away. Whatever Sam was about to say was going to
leave him embarrassed and/or humiliated.
“You could take pictures of me.” Sam said so quietly that if Dean had breathed
at the wrong moment he wouldn’t have heard him.
And even though, Dean was sure he had heard Sam right, he asked. “What?”
Sam shut his eyes tighter. “Pictures. If you wanted, you could take pictures of
me. Like this.”
Dean was on top of his brother in a second. “You mean with you still covered in
my sweat and come and bruises?”
Sam eyes shot open. “You’re not…? I thought…”
“Thought what?” Dean took Sam’s arms by his wrists and crossed them above his
head and sunk his head down to Sam’s chest. “Thought I would be disgusted,
turned off?” Sam nodded. “Nuh-uh, Sammy. Nothing we do together will ever be
disgusting, because it’s us. Okay?” Dean felt Sam nod again. “Now you want me
to take pictures of you?”
Sam found his voice. “Yes.”
“Just for me, right? Don’t want me to post them anywhere?” The look Sam gave
Dean was enough. The pictures would be for Dean’s eyes and Dean’s eyes only.
Even as much of an exhibitionist that Dean was, he couldn’t deny the bad taste
he got in his mouth at the thought of Sam’s body getting ogled by total
strangers online.
Dean left Sam for a moment to grab the camera; Sam barely had time to shiver
before Dean was back with camera in hand. He checked to make sure the lens was
uncovered before looking back to Sam. “Are you sure?” Sam went back to nodding.
“Say it, Sammy.” Dean ordered.
“Yes.” Sam whispered. “Yes, I’m sure, just…”
Dean felt like he was splashed with ice cold water. “What is it, Sammy? Just
say the word and we won’t.”
“No.” Sam was quick to dispel Dean’s assumption to stop. “I just don’t want my
face in them.” Just in case, was left unsaid but Dean understood.
Dean dipped down for a quick calming kiss. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Dean canted back and took in his brother once more before putting the camera to
his face. He took four photos in quick succession of Sam’s bruised torso, neck,
and arms. Dean’s hands started to shake around the camera when he moved
downward to Sam’s thighs and cock. The immense weight of the trust Sam must
have had in him to allow him to take naked pictures of him had finally settled
on Dean. “Dean.” Sam’s voice was lighter than a breath; it made itself
comfortable in the soft atmosphere of the room. “It’s okay.”
Dean nodded and snapped the camera three more times. Wordlessly, Sam turned on
his side. Dean snapped two more pictures of Sam’s lightly discolored back from
last night before tossing the camera away. Dean pulled Sam harshly into his lap
without a single word of warning. Sam grunted at the force Dean used to fuse
their lips together, but didn’t dare ask for him to slow down or stop. They
kissed like it was their first and last moment together; with enough passion
and love to alight a forest of doubt and shame. Sam hadn't noticed when Dean’s
hands had left his body but he damn sure noticed when they returned, body-tepid
fingers pressed into the flesh of his back and shoulder blades like sparklers
getting too close to your skin. One of Dean’s gun-calloused hands pulled Sam’s
legs apart as the other guided his lubed cock inside of him. Sam let out a sob
of relief when Dean finally slid home. They fit together better than a simple
lock and key; more like the last two pieces of the seemingly infinite-piece
jigsaw puzzle that was Love.
“God, Sammy.” As soon as Dean felt that tight heat encompass him he had to
think of every wound he’d ever gotten on a hunt just to keep from coming
(broken leg, sprained ankle, head wound that Dad had to stitch up…).
“Fuck, Dean.” Sam said as he rose up on his knees only to slide back down. It
was good but it wasn’t good enough. Any other time the position would have been
perfect for the slow and patient love they made when they hadn't been quite so
deprived of touch. “You have to, Dean. I can’t.” Sam forced out between heavy
breaths and clenched teeth. In the next moment, Sam was on his back with Dean
driving into him without pause. “H-harder, Dean.” Dean hesitated, any harder
and Sam would be in pain. Sam caught the look of hesitation as it flitted
across Dean’s features, he touched his brother’s cheek, studying how it fit so
perfectly in his palm. He had to take in as much as he could, because God only
knew how long it would be before they were able to do this again. “It’s okay. I
can take it.” Sam swallowed and stretched to touch his lips to Dean’s. “Please,
De.”
Dean groaned at the name and started to piston into Sam with no holds barred.
“Always have to give baby boy what he wants, right?” Sam forced his eyes to
stay open and alert as he nodded. This was perfect. What he had with Dean was
perfect in every sense of the word. Sam often dreamt of days –in the near
future– where it was just him and Dean on their own, doing as they pleased with
not having to worry about John. Sometimes, more often than not he had woken up
with a lump in his throat and an ache in his chest from the raw want. Dean
dropped Sam’s legs in favor of the floor, getting so close to Sam’s face they
had no choice but to breathe the same air. As soon as Sam felt his orgasm
crest, tears welled up in his eyes. Dean immediately slowed down, "You hurting,
Sammy?"
Sam was quick to shake his head. "No. I just don't want–." Dean stopped his
thrusting altogether and let himself rest against Sam's already sensitive
prostate, causing Sam to lose his feather-like grasp on speech.
Dean dropped his head so his lips brushed against Sam's ear. "It's okay, baby
boy." And it was moments like this that Sam thought that his bond with Dean
went much deeper than merely brothers or lovers. Dean had a way of reading him
better than a book. "One day, Sammy it's just going to be us. In a house like
this by a lake. You want that?"
Sam whined as his eyes finally overflowed and his tears seeped down his temples
tickling his ears. He said nothing, frustrated. God, it wasn't enough to just
nod and say yes. A simplistic movement and trivialized word were not enough for
Sam to communicate just how much he needed -craved- to just have Dean to
himself without a patriarchal shadow of fear or shame looming over them. So
instead Sam settled for kissing Dean, in hopes that he would feel every ounce
of Sam’s million-ton yes.
Dean took ahold of Sam’s ribs and restarted his thrusts, making sure that Sam
felt every inch of him. Sam’s breath started to hitch and his grip tightened
around Dean’s shoulders. “Dean. Please.” Sam whimpered, damning himself and his
lack of restraint.
“Come on, baby boy.” Dean reassured Sam with his words as well as his eyes.
With a particularly slow outward thrust and a soft stroke against Sam’s ribcage
Sam came with Dean on the tail end like the trail of a shooting star. Which was
fitting because both of them saw sparks behind their eyelids and felt molten
rocks tumble under their skin spreading heat and pleasure-pain throughout their
bodies. They took their time coming down from their high but not too long. It
was sort of a catch-22; savor the moment without wasting the precious time they
had left.
Sam and Dean wordlessly picked their clothes up off the floor and headed
upstairs. Without even discussing it, they both stepped into the shower. They
spent a few moments just letting the warm water sluice over them as they shared
soap-flavored kisses. Dean washed Sam’s hair and Sam returned the favor plus
sevenfold by doing Dean’s back as well. When the hot water had started to
dwindle, they dried themselves off, got dressed in sweats, and went downstairs.
Since they had “tied”, they both took a part in breakfast. They sorted through
the groceries Dean had gotten, separating the perishable from non. Sam smiled
when he noticed that Dean had gotten the fixings for chocolate chip pancakes.
Dean turned on the radio and when he couldn’t find a classic rock station, he
settled on a pop-rock one. They cooked side-by-side, occasionally bumping each
other with their elbows and hips. Dean was just finishing the scrambled eggs
when Sam asked him to turn up the song. Dean didn’t recognize it and it wasn’t
really his type of music but Sam liked it so that was enough. Sam hummed along
to the words he didn’t know and sang under his breath to the ones he did,
bobbing his head to the upbeat.
Sam flipped the last lopsided pancake one last time before sliding it onto a
plate. “…Look into your heart, pretty baby. Is it aching with some nameless
need? Is there something wrong and you can't put your finger on it? Right then,
roll to me.” Dean smiled at his brother as he set the table. He honestly
couldn’t wait until Sam graduated. He had imagined just like Sam, living with
his brother, working while his little brother got his degree. That to Dean was
perfection. Sam brought the plate of his pancakes, plain and chocolate, and the
platter of bacon to the table.
The boys dug in, not having eaten like this in a while. Take-out, fast food,
and processed junk had only tasted good as long as you didn’t have it
consecutively enough to begin to taste the chemicals. The cheesy eggs were firm
but soft, the bacon crispy but not burnt, and the pancakes fluffy with the
chocolate chips perfectly melted. They cleared their first helpings in record
time and moved on to their second, finishing off the food. When they were done,
they washed the dishes and took their places on the couch, legs and arms
entwined.
===============================================================================
Sam waited for Dean to fall asleep before slipping on his shoes and heading
out. He made sure the note he wrote –Went to the library. Don’t worry. Have my
knife. Be back soon. – was in plain sight and had no chance of getting lost.
Sam bundled up and when he got in the Impala turned the heat on full-blast. The
radio switched on along with the engine and a weatherman with an adenoidal
voice was warning the tri-state area that another storm was on its way worse
than the first. Thankfully, the roads had already been cleared –though if the
weatherman was right, it was going to be for naught. As he had expected and
half-knew, the library was closed. Sam pulled into the Wal*Mart parking lot. He
parked in one of the closer spots and watched locals exit the store with carts
full of road salt, bottled water, bread, and toilet paper. Sam turned off the
engine and sat in silence as he tossed Dean’s camera back and forth between his
hands.
===============================================================================
Dean carefully readjusted in his sleep, still mindful of his sleeping brother.
When he didn’t feel the familiar weight of his brother’s body, he shot awake.
“Sam?” He called, looking around. “Sammy?” As his eyes searched the
circumference of the room they landed on a small torn slip of paper. Dean read
it and breathed a small sigh of relief. He turned off the TV and turned the
radio back on for background music as he packed for himself and Sam. Something
told him that John was going to want to hit the road as soon as he arrived.
From upstairs, Dean heard the Impala’s engine pull into the driveway right
before its rumbling engine cut off.
“I’m back!” Sam’s voice echoed slightly from the lower level just as the front
door shut behind him.
“Up here!” Dean called as he folded the last of Sam’s t-shirts and slid it into
his duffel. Sam’s heavy footfalls crescendoed as he ascended the stairs,
stopping as he met the doorway of their bedroom. “Hey. How was the library?”
Sam laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck. “I, uh, actually
didn’t go to the library. It was closed.”
Dean glanced at his watch. “Oh. Must have been asleep for shorter than I
thought then.”
“No. I left a little over an hour ago actually.” Sam bit his lip as Dean turned
around with raised eyebrows.
“Did you now?” Dean said in a sarcastically casual manner as he scrutinized his
guilty looking brother. “You knew the library was closed before you left,
didn’t you?”
Sam winced. “Maybe?”
Dean folded his arms in signs of waiting. “Spill.”
Sam jerkily pulled out an envelope from his back pocket and awkwardly handed it
to his brother. “I was out getting these.” Dean kept his eyes on his brother as
he blindly opened the envelope and retrieved what was inside. The awkward
glossiness of the photos sticking to his fingertips made him look down. Dean
inhaled a hoarse gasp as he studied the photos. He flipped through them with
rapid fire once through only to go back and take his time on each one. The
storm-tinged late morning/midday sunlight that had been streaming through the
living room’s windows had given Sam’s skin a natural spotlight.
“Sammy, you...” Dean whispered. Sam held his breath as he waited for Dean to
react. His body was so wrought with heavy tension and anxiety that he couldn’t
even shake, just stay frozen in place. A million questions were running through
Sam’s mind peeling slowly at his resolve like a knife peeling the skin off an
apple. Does he like them? Is he disgusted? What if he doesn’t want to keep
them? Is he worried someone will see them?
Dean looked up and smiled a smile that made Sam question the need for the Sun’s
existence. Dean slipped the envelope into his back pocket as he pulled Sam to
his chest by his sweatshirt. Both of them hissed and shuddered when they felt
each other’s half-hard cocks touch. For a few seconds, Sam and Dean didn’t even
kiss, just felt the cold intake and hot outlet of their heavy breaths on their
lips. “Jesus, Sam.”
Sam slid his hands under Dean’s shirt and squeezed at his non-existent love
handles. Dean let his eyes fall shut and slotted Sam’s leg between his. The
heat that Sam’s crotch emitted was damn near scalding as Dean ground himself
against his brother’s leg. With his eyes closed, Dean tilted his head the
opposite direction of Sam’s and met his lips without fault. He didn’t bother
starting out slow and languid. He went in for the kill; biting at Sam’s lips
with his canines only to soothe them with his tongue. Sam found his words when
he and Dean pulled away for air. “Guess you like them then?” Dean made a noise
much too feral to be considered human and forced Sam’s mouth to his again as he
shoved his hand down Sam’s pants with something that didn’t even remotely
resemble finesse. But Sam took his hand away and pressed it against his chest,
forcing Dean’s fingertips to brush against his nipples. “Just like this.” Dean
let himself fall to the bed, ignoring the last pile of unfolded clothes as it
tumbled to the floor. Sam followed like a lost north magnet trying to find its
south.
“Fuck, Sam.” Dean muttered.
Sam began to grind down against Dean without an ounce of shame. “Wanted you
take pictures of me for a while.”
“How…long? Oh, Jes–.” Dean’s eyes went crossed and his mouth slack when Sam
wrapped his mouth around the pressure point behind his ear.
“Thirteen.” Sam braced himself for the reprimand, for the words: That was too
soon, Sam. But they don’t come. “Dean…” Sam couldn’t actually put into words
what he needed Dean to say.
As always, Dean understood. “Shh. It’s okay, baby boy. Don’t be ashamed. Not
gonna get mad.” Dean flipped them over and pushed their hips flush as he pulled
their faces together again. Dean showed how little of a problem he had with his
soft tongue and gripping fingers. Sam groaned when Dean pulled at his hair, the
dull burn peaking his arousal. That and a rough movement had Sam coming and
Dean holding him through it. Dean was fully prepared to continue rubbing
himself off on his brother but Sam had other plans.
Sam moved Dean to the floor in front of the floor length mirror propped up
against the wall beside the chest of drawers. It was dirty and cracked in a
couple of places but the intricately gilded oak frame was still in perfect
condition, the few flaws revealing that it was handmade. When Dean realized
what Sam was doing, he shuddered. “Oh, fuck. Sammy.”
Sam smiled as he slowly opened his brother’s fly. He just as slowly removed
Dean’s cock and merely held it in his hand until Dean lost his patience and
started to thrust into Sam’s lackluster grip. Sam pulled his hand away in a
second though. “Uh-uh. My timetable this time.”
Dean outright whimpered. “Sam.”
“Look at yourself, Dean. Fucking begging.” Sam’s voice was still wrecked from
his orgasm but that didn’t make it any less domineering. At least not to Dean.
Dean submitted. He blushed even harder when he caught sight of his already
flushed sweat-sheened skin, kiss-swollen lips, and half-lidded eyes.
Embarrassed, Dean groaned and turned his head into Sam’s neck, but Sam nudged
him away. “So beautiful.” Sam assured him. “Ready to come for me?”
Dean obdurately nodded. “Yeah, Sammy.” Sam kissed the side of Dean’s face
tenderly but didn’t tighten his grasp. Dean took the hint and joined his hand
with Sam’s over his cock. He unabashedly thrust into their hands until he found
the edge and fell over it. And kept falling. Fuck Alice and her rabbit hole,
Dean was falling through ice-cold white-hot liquid fire with a kaleidoscope
blindfold. Dean waited for his orgasm to descend from its peak but it was
resilient. Painfully so. It kept going until it met and surpassed Dean’s top-
five orgasms. Dean screamed a sound that if properly analyzed could be traced
back to Sam’s name. He barely registered the blissful tears that flowed out of
his eyes as it finally stopped. Stopped, the way a speeding train would stop if
the tracks suddenly ended. Dean free fell from his high and landed back-first
on cotton-covered concrete.
And just as Dean had done, Sam held him through it all watching in awe,
concern, and adoration. Dean whined –in relief and regret– as he felt the last
remnants of his ecstasy drift away like smoke. Sam shushed him and let Dean
fall back against his chest. He fished a clean washcloth from the discarded
pile of laundry, wiped his brother off, and just held him.
===============================================================================
Dean and Sam were settled at the kitchen table and starting in on their dinner
of bacon grilled cheeses. Both of them flicking their gazes between the radio
clock, the door, and each other. Rinse. Wash. Repeat. The only thing keeping
the silence from becoming too heavy was the radio playing the Top 40. Dean
finished his sandwich first and at Sam’s invitation finished off his as well.
“So, how’s school?” Dean attempted to joke.
Sam rolled his eyes. “You asked me that yesterday, Dean, and since I haven’t
been to school since then nothing’s changed.” Dean pursed his lips and looked
at the door again. Tension rolling off him in waves. Sam relented. “Can I ask
you something?”
Dean comically winced. “Guess I can’t really say no, can I?”
“You don’t have to answer if you don't want to. In fact, I’m pretty sure you
won't want to.” Sam kept his eyes focused on his plate as he passed his drink
back in forth between his hands.
Dean pushed away his plate and reached for his beer. “Ask away, Sammy.”
“Why did you drop out?”
Sam’s brother squinted his eyes in confusion. “To hunt, Sam, you know that.”
“I know that’s what you want Dad to think.” Sam challenged with no hesitation.
He finally looked up and met Dean’s eyes.
Dean flared his nostrils before chuckling. “Jesus. Sometimes I swear you’re too
smart for your own good.”
“Yeah, you and Dad both.” Sam snapped, picking up his and Dean’s plates from
the table to throw them in the sink. Sam knew he was smart; it hadn’t take him
long to realize that he didn’t struggle with public schools’ more challenging
curriculum as other students did. But he wasn’t ashamed and despite what some
people –Dad– thought he didn’t rub it in people’s faces. It was when people
said things like: ‘too smart for your own good’ and ‘what lab did they cook you
up in?’ that Sam felt like he should feel guilty for not dumbing himself down.
Dean was at Sam’s back in a second. He let his head rest on Sam’s shoulder and
wrapped his arms around his waist. “Do you really want to know?” Dean’s warm
beer–scented breath brushed against Sam’s cheek.
“I asked, didn’t I?” Sam said, no heat in his tone. Suddenly, the radio was off
and Sam was facing Dean, perched on the counter. Sam threw his brother a
bitchface; Dean knew how much he hated being treated like a child. If Dean
noticed his brother agitation, he didn’t show it.
“I did it for you.”
Sam’s breath caught in his throat. “…What?”
“You heard me.” Dean told him as he flashed him a rueful smirk. “I didn’t drop
out at sixteen, Sam. I dropped out when Dad had left us for a two-day hunt that
turned into a week-long one and on the fifth day when we had run out of food
and money you looked at me and said; ‘I’m hungry, De.’ When I saw that look on
your face I swore that I would try my damnedest to make sure I never saw it
again.” Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Why do you think I
started acting out in school? Cutting class? You thought I was doing that shit
for shits and giggles? I wanted to get kicked out so I could focus on keeping
you fed and happy.”
“And Dad…” Sam whispered.
Dean scoffed. “Dad was fucking oblivious and very encouraging. My grades were
nothing like yours; nothing to brag about.” –Dean deepened his voice to match
John’s– “‘Why waste your time at school if you aren’t going to try?’” Dean
smiled listlessly. “I got sick of stealing, was nearly caught more times than I
could count, so as soon as sixteen hit, I was gone; applied for every job in
every city we stayed in for longer than three days. I let Dad keep going on
thinking that I was a good little delinquent truant that didn’t give a shit and
I lie about how much I make so I don’t have to shell out money for his booze.”
“You spend all your money on me?” Sam asked, staring into Dean’s eyes.
Dean blushed and coughed out a nervous laugh. “Pretty much. Food, field trips,
birthdays, Christmas…I want you to feel as normal as possible, Sammy.”
“And what about you?” Sam prodded. “Don’t you want to feel normal?” Dean was
poised to answer when they jumped at the sound of John’s 1986 GMC Sierra Grande
pulling up to the house. The garish engine stalled for a few seconds before
shutting off. Sam and Dean glanced at the radio’s clock; it was only seven. “I
thought you said he was going to be back until–.”
Dean interrupted. “That’s what he said.” He blinked, suddenly realizing how
close he and Sam were. He stepped back and Sam hopped off the counter with
unpracticed finesse and they took their places back at the table and tried
their hardest to look casual.
John was through the door the next moment, frozen and melting snow covering his
jacket and sticking to his hair. “Jesus. I swear it’s a bitch to drive in this
fucking weather…” The reaching odor of cheap whiskey trailed from John’s body
like poisonous vines. Out of habit more than respect, Sam and Dean stood as
their father entered the kitchen.
Sam tried, really he did, but he couldn’t keep himself from blurting. “Might’ve
been easier if you were sober.”
“Sam.” Dean reprimanded. He knew he’d taught his brother better than to fuck
with John especially when he had been drinking. Like Dean, it took a lot of
alcohol to actually make John drunk off his ass but unlike Dean, it lowered
John’s tolerance for bullshit.
Fortunately, John was oblivious. “You boys packed?”
“Yes, sir.” They chorused. Force of habit and instinct, Sam and Dean took one
more step apart.
“Good. Just gotta take a leak. Go warm up the car.” John ordered on his way
upstairs.
“Yes, sir.” Dean replied as he turned off the lights in the kitchen and Sam got
their bags.
Sam and Dean didn’t say a word to each other until they were in the car.
“Did you mean it?” Sam whispered as if he feared John would be able to hear
them from inside the house. It obviously was a shared fear though because Dean
spoke in undertones.
“I usually do. But what are we talking about here?” Dean turned on the ignition
and put the heat on full blast.
“About us going out on our own.” Sam started to bite at his nails. It was a bad
habit he’d developed at a young age from Dean.
“Depends.” Dean answered, turning on the windshield wipers. Snow was quickly
covering the window and continued to do so on the areas the wipers couldn’t
reach. Dean hoped the weather was better in Sioux Falls.
“On what?” Sam asked, following Dean with his eyes as he turned the radio on
low. Plant was in the middle of Lemon Song; Dean unconsciously started tapping
out Bonham’s drum beat on the steering wheel and watched the snow steadily
fall.
“On if that’s what you want.”
Sam chuckled. “Want? Jesus. Dean, just to drive and never look back? That’s
Heaven to me.” Dean whipped his head to Sam so fast, he worried for his neck.
“I don’t care if we had to hustle for the rest of our lives, were dirt poor,
and had to live in some shitty apartment…” Sam pulled at a stubborn hangnail.
“As long as we were together and didn’t have hide, it would be perfect to me.”
There was split-second of silence as Lemon ended. Sam derisively laughed at
himself as he looked up from his hands. “Stupid, right?
At that moment a clean-shaven John came out of the house with his collar turned
up against the wind. Dean pretended to be focused on the tape deck and Sam
studied his hands in his lap. As soon as John was in the cab of his truck, Dean
put the Impala in gear and pulled off.
It hit Sam and Dean the moment they were on the highway. John was behind them.
Something that wouldn't have been a problem during the daytime with the glare
of the sun and highway scenery to watch as they drove, but now John's
headlights that streamed in from the back window, illuminating the entire car,
seemed more like spotlights zeroing in on Sam and Dean.
Sam couldn't lay his head down in Dean's lap and fall asleep to the vibrations
of his brother's voice. Dean couldn't tilt his head to the side in silent
asking for Sam to play with his hair. Dean couldn't ask Sam for a highway
hummer. Sam couldn't lean over and kiss Dean's neck and ear until he swerved
and asked him to quit it.
They could do nothing but sit and wait and listen to their thoughts with Dean's
tapes in the background. Sam curled away from Dean as much as possible and
tried his best to just fall into such a deep sleep that he wouldn't awake until
Bobby's.
End Notes
     Part two, the last part, unless I decide to do timestamps, should be
     up soon.
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