samdean_otp 2012 minibang: Revision
+Chapter One+ChapterTwo+ Chapter Three+PART THREE
When Jerry woke up, his head was pillowed on a pile of his and Dean's t-shirts and he wasn't sure if he'd dreamt Dean's kindness or not. Dean was standing at the edge of the water when Jerry woke, talking to Al. They both looked comfortable, so Jerry decided that it must have been a nice dream.
Jerry slept all the way home, and when they pulled into the driveway, Dean said good-bye but looked like he didn't really want to go, so Jerry invited himself in to Dean's. Of course.
Dean unlocked his apartment door and dropped the bag with his stuff in the hallway. "Check what's on TV and I'll take a look at what we have to eat."
Jerry nodded, grabbed the remote and flipped through channels. He debated asking Dean if he could take a shower, rinse out his stuff. He still had a pair of dry, clean shorts in his bag. The banging about in the kitchen began to take on a purposeful sound. "Whatcha doin'?"
"You like mac-n-cheese? Was gonna make some. My brother-" he stumbled to a stop. "I used to make it a lot, because it was cheap and he liked it. Do you like it?"
Dean looked so solemn, eyes wide and filled with sadness, sadness and something a little like love. Something about those eyes invoked an uncontrollable response-Jerry's lower lip pulled in and he stared at Dean and just nodded, nodded and a sharp sting pricked at the corners of his eyes. He missed…he missed something so much it hurt, made him want to throw himself at Dean and made him want to eat mac and cheese and lay in the backseat of a big old car and let it take him some unknown way down unknown roads. He wanted to feel safe like that.
The weird, the weirder thing, was the look Dean gave him because it was full of I know what you're thinking and I want the same, but he just gave Jerry a nod back and turned back to the stove, like mac and cheese was the most important thing in the world. "So, you should, y'know, wash up or something, then you can watch this shit cook while I get cleaned up. Oh, and check that bag, I hooked some beers off Al…"
Jerry found two beers tucked into Dean's boots. He grimaced, then what the hell, he had to laugh; he pulled them out to shove in the fridge.
He showered, feeling a little weird to be standing in Dean's shower, weird like he was intruding on Dean but Dean hadn't seemed to mind or think there was anything odd about it at all.
There were a couple of really crappy towels folded on a shelf over the toilet and he took one. It was the thin and worn, way worse than the towels he'd had in rehab. He had the feeling Dean did all his linen shopping at forty-dollar-a-night motels. He wrung as much water off himself as he could and pulled the dry clothes back on. There was a comb on the edge of the sink, he grabbed and ran it through his hair. Tried not to imagine it going through Dean's hair, curving around his ears… god. Girl, such a girl. And entirely Dean's fault.
In the kitchen, Dean was humming something and stirring a can of what looked like chili into the noodles along with the cheese sauce. "Gross, dude."
"Shut up, you fucking love this," Dean said with such total confidence that Jerry burst out laughing. Dean grinned back and hustled into the shower, and Jerry took out plates and glasses, knowing Dean's kitchen just as well as his own. Jerry stopped, smiled down at the table and the two plates, two glasses, two forks set there. It seemed right. He liked it, a lot. He fished a handful of Dean's purloined Burger King napkins from his stash and dumped them in pile between the plates. That was about all he was prepared to do, in the way of setting a table.
He was giving the pot one last stir, shaking in some garlic powder, just as Dean came out, still damp and smelling like soap and warm skin. Dean spied the garlic and snorted. He managed to squirm past Jerry without touching him and took a plastic pitcher of Kool-Aid from the fridge. Dean hummed as he filled their glasses, and Jerry smiled. Whatever the song was, it felt familiar to him, made him smile. Dean set the glasses down on the table and after a second, took the beer out too and set one by each place. He stared at Jerry for a long minute, his expression unreadable. It was odd and uncomfortable, that long, blank look, and made Jerry want to-hide, or fidget or yell. And then, Dean smiled. He set the pot on the table and dropped a big wooden spoon in it. "Eat up, Sas."
It was so good Jerry couldn't keep himself from moaning with each mouthful. "Geez, Dean, y'r a fuckin' genius," he mumbled around a loaded forkful of mac-n-cheese.
"You got that right," he said. "You, you eat as much as you want, okay? There's so much of it. I've got so much food here."
Jerry glanced up; Dean seemed almost…something. Sad, melancholy…it was odd. The whole evening was odd; it felt like they were trembling on the edge of a big-he didn't even have a word for what it felt like. Maybe his memory was coming back? He'd been having this bizarre deja-vu feeling all day. Or was it Dean? Was this…Dean falling? Just the thought made Jerry shiver, made him a little hard. He must have made some noise because Dean looked up from his plate and their eyes met. Dean's pupils were blown wide open, his cheeks pinked up. He swallowed, hard, just as Jerry bit his cheek, yelped when blood flooded his mouth, he'd bit that hard.
"Hey-" Whatever Dean had been thinking was gone, he flipped the switch from…whatever it was to paramedic. He jumped out of his chair and grabbed Jerry's head, "What, what'd you bite down on?"
"Me! I bit my cheek, like an idiot." He'd bit his cheek like a fucking vampire-it hurt like hell and his mouth was disgustingly full of blood.
"Holy shit, dude, you're really bleeding there, damn…" Dean had this kind of horrified look which was weird because Jerry would never have imagined Dean to be such a light weight when it came to bodily fluids. Actually, it didn't seem to be so much nausea as horrified fascination, like staring at a car wreck. Jerry licked at his lip and the inside of his mouth, felt blood coating his teeth, and realized that he was drooling a thin string of blood over his chin. Fuck, he could just imagine what a crazy picture he must make, no wonder Dean was staring at him all ew-faced. Bleeding all out your face sure wasn't conducive to getting in anyone's pants, he thought, and grabbed a handful of napkins to wipe off but Dean was there, wiping it with his own hand, dragging the palm of his hand over Jerry's mouth, swiping down over his chin, "It's okay, it's all right, you're all right," he murmured with an edge of…panic or something, so Jerry grabbed his hand, held it.
"Dean. I'm okay. I swear." Not letting go, he grabbed the beer and drank, drank until the only taste was the bitter bite of the cheap beer. "Okay-see?"
The disturbing taste of blood was gone. Dean, Dean closed his eyes, and Jerry mumbled, "Fuck it," and pulled him closer. Kissed him. He was beyond caring if Dean kicked the shit out of him, this was his chance and he was taking it. Following his instinct. Listening to his gut. Besides, he was fairly certain he could take Dean in a dirty fight….
"We shouldn't, we shouldn't, we have to-" Dean tried to push Jerry away, his arm tense and at full length, his hand a firm barrier pressed against Jerry's chest, but instinct kept Jerry moving and Dean's arm trembled, bent to the pressure and slowly lowered. His eyes opened and he looked at Jerry.
It was shocking, how much want there was in Dean's eyes. How he trembled, his mouth, his hands, when they slid from Jerry's chest to his neck. Tears swam in his eyes but still, he pulled Jerry forward, moaned/sighed/groaned into the kiss Jerry pressed on him. Dean surrendered to it like they'd been fighting and Dean lost. His lips went from cool and a little dry to hot, pulsing hot and swollen against Jerry's so quickly. Maybe because Jerry couldn't kiss him without scraping his teeth over the thick flesh, nipping Dean until he protested and then smoothing his tongue over the little pinches, murmuring soothing words into his mouth, against his lips and against his jaw. Jerry had no idea if it was like this for him to kiss someone. "I don't remember doing this before," he said, discounting drunken fumbling and fantasies because this was what was real and what he'd been hoping for.
Dean shuddered and pulled Jerry closer and when he spoke, it seemed he was answering a question not asked-"No, we haven't, we've never done this; we never did, but…" His eyes closed so tightly he looked like he was in pain. "I wanted to. Forever. I wanted so much, I was almost happy when you left. Almost." Dean looked terrified, and it made Jerry hesitate-he didn't want Dean thinking he had to go forward, that wasn't what this was about-Dean picked that moment to grind his dick against the painfully hard bulge of Jerry's own dick and the worry faded.
Okay, so he didn't know what Dean was talking about. But this? It was about this, this moment he'd been waiting for since the first time he'd seen Dean's stupid, cocky grin and fuck anything that tried to get between them now. Because this, him and Dean, was all that counted. He shuddered when Dean grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bedroom, not nerves, just relief. Overwhelming relief.
Jerry expected that they'd go at it like animals-Dean didn't seem the type for slow and sweet but. Slow. And sweet …and Dean was, was amazing. He took control, dragging kisses from Jerry, dragging moans. His hands were smart, and touched Jerry in all the places he liked and Jerry didn't know if Dean made those places or if they'd always been there, waiting….
He took Jerry's clothes off like he was unveiling a wonderful new canvas, eyes wide and astonished and every piece of skin revealed got stroked and kissed and tasted. Tension built, electric and wild-when Dean pulled his boxers off at last, Jerry was sure it'd only take one more kiss to make him come.
Ignoring how much he wanted to, Dean wouldn't let Jerry do the same for him; he took his clothes off carefully and laid them out like he needed them close so he could bolt. Jerry frowned but figured Dean was probably the kind of guy whose relationships generally consisted of 'hey that was great, see ya round.' Well, not anymore. Jerry let a slow smile ease across his lips and Dean huffed. "What? You were so sure of this?"
Jerry shook his head. "No, not at all. Man, I was hoping so hard for this, you don’t even know."
"A little bit, I do," Dean said and lowered his head to Jerry's." I…I'm not real sure how all this works but if you don’t mind-"
"Dude, do what you want and I'll let you know what I remember."
Dean laughed, low and sweet and intimate as a kiss. "Okay. Deal," and he did kiss Jerry and Jerry followed his lead. It was…it was too hot. His dick jerked hard in the little space between them, right against Dean's dick, bumping and catching in not enough slick but it was still good. He felt like he was drowning and gasped for breath and Dean took it for a signal.
"Okay, okay…yeah…" Dean started a languid fucking motion, sliding back and forth and repeating the rhythm with his tongue, in and out of Jerry's mouth in an unmistakable dance. Felt a bit like he was being fucked from both ends-the thought made him clench, groan and grab the first thing he could. His fingers dug into the soft muscle of Dean's ass, gripped and pulled, nails digging in and Dean apparently thought that was good. Another hot pulse of slick and he was sliding freely against Jerry, bumping and skipping over his abs.
"Fuck, you're like a fucking brick wall, only not, y'know-painful," Dean groaned.
"Your sex talk-not good-" Jerry felt everything click into place as Dean laughed into his shoulder, and then laughter melted into moans and it was, it was perfect, "perfect," he whispered.
"God, yeah. Just…just this? Dean moaned. "If it's all…fuck, all I ever get…"
"Don't say that," Jerry growled, and reached between them, barely getting the both of them in his hand but they were so close to the edge that it didn't take more than him tightening his grip to get Dean coming, and between the hot, slippery feel of come and the noise Dean made, it was barely seconds before Jerry added to the thick mess covering him, gluing him to Dean. Jerry moaned-and laughed, happy because fuck, it felt so good and just knowing he could have more of this, more of sex and more of Dean and just…god, touching, holding…
Dean mumbled against his shoulder, his mouth pushed tight into the skin.
"What?"
"Leggo, ya fuckin cuddler, gotta clean up."
"No, nope, feels too good. Not moving."
"Okay, but when we wake up in the morning stuck to everything, I get first dibs on punching you in the head."
"God, hot and violent, how lucky am I?"
Jerry drifted off to the feel of Dean giggling against him, good blackmail material, that….
>
Jerry yawned, rubbed his face against really soft sheets that smelled good…he rolled over and opened his eyes, and frowned for a moment when an unfamiliar ceiling swam into view. The frown flowed into a grin as everything from the night before came back-like, having the very best sex he'd ever known, followed by the best sleep he'd ever known, and the only thing that could top that would be…more.
He stretched wide, happily and contentedly yawning until it struck him that something was off. He shouldn't have had so much room to stretch out in…he flopped a hand around where Dean should have been. Frowned a little-he distinctly remembered spreading out pretty much on top of Dean. The guy must be a ninja to get out of bed without waking him. And that worried him a bit, Dean not being there….
Jerry scrambled out of bed, stepping into his boxers before heading towards the kitchen where distinctly agitated voices were coming from-Dean, and someone else?
Dean sounded unhappy and Jerry tensed. Shit, that better not be about Dean regretting the best night of Jerry's life…he heard Dean snap, "No. Yes. I know I'm screwing it up, all right? I wanted him to have. Shit. A new life, a happy one. It's your fault this happened. You're the one put me here."
"I asked you where you wanted to go and you said 'someplace better'."
"You were supposed to know! Better wasn't supposed to be where Sammy was."
"Your mind was screaming 'Sam' the whole time and I was momentarily confused. And yes, I made a mistake."
"Great. Just. Great. You were confused and now here I am, ruining his life again. He thinks he wants this mess. He doesn't want it, if he knew he wouldn't want it and that means I forced...fuck. What the hell happened to us?"
The other speaker crossed the kitchen and into Jerry's view… it was that John Constantine clone. Fucking Constantine? What the fuck-so Dean did know him. Was Dean playing him? Dean was using him, the bastard. He was cheating on John Constantine. Or with John Constantine, either way, Jerry was going to gut that faithless bastard like a fish-figuratively speaking. Maybe.
Jerry was inhaling a rather loud and furious breath when John Constantine caught sight of him in the hallway and looked…mildly surprised. "Oh, well. Hello. You're no doubt wondering what I'm doing in Dean's kitchen, talking about you."
"Yes, you could say that," Jerry said, and marveled at his calm, sorely tested when Dean jumped a foot and went a mottled red and white. Cheating asshole.
John Constantine cocked a rather bird-like look at him, fixing Jerry with eerily blue eyes-it was so much the flat, creepy, stare of a bird. He said again, but slower this time, "Hello. You're no. Doubt. Wondering. Wha-"
"Cas, shut up," Dean moaned.
Cas-shock hit Jerry like a taser. "I know that name, your name-wait, that's not right. Your name's Castiel. And…how the hell do I know this?"
"I probably mentioned it before, he's my-my-cousin," Dean said at the same time Castiel-Constantine said "-brother."
"Really?" Jerry hissed when Dean had the nerve to echo Jerry. Jerry broke off to glare even harder at Dean. "Fuck you, Dean", he snarled. "I'm not some convenient piece on the side. You should have told me you were involved. You made me into a fucking cliché, you bastard."
"It's not like that," Dean squeaked, a sound surprising in a man his size. Castiel gave Dean a wondering glance and then trained his blank, blue eyes on Jerry.
"No," Castiel said. "I'm afraid it's much worse." Dean whipped around to glare at Castiel, his mouth working. With a visible effort, he managed to contain himself.
"Cas, not helping."
Worse? What could be worse? "Tell me what's going on-right now," Jerry shouted over the both of them, and the both of them shook their heads, like tandem bobble-heads and that made Jerry impossibly angrier-the movement screamed how close they were, how obviously they had history together. Jerry was beyond furious, felt like he was shut out, just when he'd thought that he'd made a connection like that with Dean….
"I swear, Sam, this whole thing, you don't want to know. I'm sorry Cas," Dean said. Cas looked back at Dean, a heavy sort of resignation pulling down the corners of his eyes, his mouth, and making him look exhausted. He nodded and Dean said again, "I'm sorry" but now he was speaking to Jerry and Jerry raised his hands against Dean. He didn't want to hear some half-assed apology, some weak, useless declaration of what, friendship gone awry; of Dean falling on the spur of the moment and how it'd never happen again? Jerry hated how much it hurt, hated the tears he felt welling. God-why couldn't he be armed right now?
Dean nodded like he'd made some decision and yanked the stupid necklace he always wore off his neck and dropped it. Ground the little glass cylinder wired to the leather strip against the floor until it smashed. Jerry was shocked-he thought that Dean treasured that thing, what was the point of-
+
Jerry picked himself up off the floor.
+
Rubbed his head.
Jerry…wait, not Jerry. He was hit with another wave of disorientation, not enough to drop him and knock him out-again-but it took Sam a second to pull his brain cells together and realize what the hell was going on-had gone on. He saw Castiel's impassive face, the sorrowful, frightened look on Dean's and felt-betrayed.
"You-Jesus-you bastard. You fucking sick, fucking bastard. You-you-bastard." Sam turned to Castiel. "Get me the hell out of here-anywhere but here."
"Sam-please-"
He ignored Dean, rounded on Castiel. "You put me anywhere, you hear? Just make sure there's a country between me and-him. In the real world." Sam glared indiscriminately around the kitchen, Dean's apartment. Looking anywhere but at the man. Ignored Dean when he called his name again, just snapped at Cas, "Now."
Castiel spread his hands, palms up and said, "As you wish."
Before he could call the angel on cheesy movie references, Sam yelped-or tried to. He felt like Cas had thrown him thrown head-first through a wall made of semi-melted marshmallow. He gulped, and waited for the rocking sensation in his brain and gut to settle. When his sight cleared again he cursed-he was standing facing a fireplace in a room that looked like that cabin they'd holed up in right before his senior year, that time Dad had needed to recover from a surprise appendectomy. Sam peered harder into the dust filled gloom, and realized it didn't just look like it, it was that cabin. He cursed harder and more creatively. No way was he staying, not in a place where Dean could find him, no way. Fuck Dean and his-
Castiel was giving him the cocked-head, bird-gaze thing with an added layer of sad, or regret…something. Sam got it.
It didn't matter where he'd landed; Dean wasn't going to look for him. It should have felt like relief, but it didn't.
Sam exhaled; something hot was twisting in his stomach, building behind his eyes. His hands twisted into tight fists at his side. His voice failed him before he finally managed to spit out, "Can you take those memories away, the way you took my real memories? Or will they fade away since it wasn't really my life…?" Saying it felt like a lie, Jerry didn't feel separate, Jerry was him, or Sam was that guy…a happier person, a version that Sam could have been in some other life. He laughed, or tried to. It broke into something too close to a sob, remembering the why of his happiness. He rubbed his hands over his face. "Will they fade?"
Castiel looked thoughtful, answered slowly, "Your 'real' memories were never gone, they were overwritten by a spell that Dean caused to be cast. But yes, I can destroy your memories of that life if you wish. I warn you, you'll feel the loss. Because you were you, they are your memories, just a slightly different life, and a different name. Of course, I can overwrite them easily, with a spell, the way Dean did. The spell would need to be maintained, you see, so it couldn't be used against you, or broken the way-"
"Cas-" Sam grabbed his forehead, trying to keep the raging headache hammering at his brain at bay. "-okay, okay. Just, please. Shut up."
When he looked up again, Cas was gone.
Of course. Sam sighed, and looked around the place he'd be living in the foreseeable future. The cabin looked like it hadn't been inhabited since Dad and Dean and he'd last been there. Great. That meant no maintenance, no electric, no water… just what he needed to take his mind off the fucked up place he'd been. Nothing like starving and dying of thirst in the dark to put things in perspective.
Sam had to laugh, sure that Dean would have plenty to say about that…and the laugh died out.
Right.
He turned around, scraping his hair back from his face as he took stock. The place was dark, old sheets or drop-clothes were nailed over the windows, but it wasn't hard to see the dust and cobwebs dripping from every corner and overhead light and the cabinets and…just everywhere. He walked deeper into the L-shaped room, the short leg of the room holding the kitchen and the living area and bathroom in the longer side. Memory led him to open the door next to the bathroom. Just as he thought, it opened to a bunk house style bedroom. "Dibs on the bottom," he muttered and wondered if he'd actually be able to sleep on the narrow bunk. He dragged the thin mattress out the front door and set it on the grass to air out.
He walked into the kitchen, turned the faucets on and was pleasantly surprised when clean water ran out. On a whim, he flipped the switch on the wall and the overhead light stuttered on. He blinked. Electricity-oh. Cas. He opened a sagging cabinet door and grinned at the full pantry, Lucky-charms and dozens of cans of SpaghettiOs. He laughed out loud. Apparently Castiel took his shopping list for Sam's groceries from Dean's brain.
He smiled; let himself smile, even though it was about Dean.
Later that evening, sitting on the porch and wolfing down a bowl of Lucky-charms swimming in ice-cold milk, he let himself think about…most of what happened.
Okay, so. Dean had once again taken it on himself to decide what was good for Sam. Only then Cas and he had fucked up. Hell, it wasn't enough for Dean to fuck with his memory, he'd tried to put him somewhere else in time, in some other place, and even then the asshole couldn't leave him alone. Dean and his needy, grasping, greedy demands on Sam's life, even when he held out the promise of starting over, he shit all over it.
He'd never hated anyone as much as he hated Dean in that moment.
He totally ignored sense memories of Dean curled into that space between Sam's jaw and his shoulder, moaning-the flash of heat it sent up his spine was ignored and faded as quickly as it came. Fucking bastard.
Of course, his damn brother couldn't leave well enough alone. Not long after he'd made a pretty good start on making the place livable, and he had a few moments to spare, to breathe in, Dean started texting him. Not personal shit, just-'are you alive' type texts, the kind they'd shoot each other on hunts. Sam didn't really welcome the texts or the reminders of their everyday, real lives. Mostly Sam didn't answer and Dean didn't really sweat him but still….
He worked. He swept and washed and scraped and caulked and did it day after day after day… until there came a day that he just couldn't take the not knowing why anymore. He prayed for Cas and only had the one word for him when Castiel appeared suddenly, toe-to-toe with Sam and fiercely blue eyes full of sympathy…"Why?"
Cas answered immediately, knowing exactly what Sam asked. "He thought you could have a clean start. A new life."
"And…Jake…Andy, Ava?" Sam blinked hard, swallowed the sharp thing that'd lodged in his throat, his voice a dry croak when he went on, "And Jess? What was that all about? Does he hate me, fuck; does he hate me that much?"
Cas looked stricken. "No! That-that was what could have been if Jerry hadn't. Hadn't died in that universe, you understand? No, you don't…that man died and left a slot that held the option of being filled. You see, there are nearly endless possible universes with endless possibilities of you. This one had seemed perfect, there was no Dean and the you that had been there was gone. So…I'm sorry."
"Wait…" Sam stared at Castiel, trying to process…"There are universes where there's no me and no Dean? Where we're alone, always?" He stopped and licked his lips. Okay, that obviously was not the most important thing about what Cas was trying to tell him-it just felt like it. "So, he didn't know."
Cas shook his head. "No, of course he didn't. He just hoped you'd be happy."
Sam gasped out a laugh, "Well, I guess I get why he was so trashed after that djinn thing. He was so fixated on me being happy that time, he almost died for it." Sam laughed again, not really aware that tears ran too. "That's a real bad habit of his." Sam wiped his eyes. "Asshole."
"That has always been Dean's problem. His firm belief in his own lack of worth."
Sam nodded and when he lifted his head again, Cas was gone.
+++
Sam was following the shallow river behind the cabin he next time Cas came. Walking along the damp sand reminded him of the day at the ocean, and how Dean had looked, embarrassed but secretly pleased with himself in his cheap swim trunks. That memory led into another, how Dean would sometimes take his coffee sweet and light. The way that Sam took his. How he'd sip at it, make a face, then smile. Not at Sam-Jerry-Sam, but at some memory of his own, Sam guessed…he remembered how horrified Dean had been when Jake-Al-came to the door that first time….
Sam remembered too, how much he'd liked them, his roommates, how close he'd felt to them. He'd liked the real version of them, too. At first. Before Jake had ruined his life and Dean's beyond all repair. Sam stared out through the trees and wiped his nose-running because he was fucking sick and tired of crying.
He remembered knowing so deeply and completely that he was gay. There'd been no question, just like he hadn't really questioned his instant attraction to Dean…and what the hell had Dean been doing there anyway? Had he been there to protect the spell? He could have done it from this 'verse. Stayed away so Sam could have had a chance at a real life…except…Sam remembered too, how lonely and lost he'd felt. How loved he'd felt when Dean walked in the door.
"Damn it, damn it!" He screamed and fired handfuls of rocks into the trees on the opposite shore, trying to blow off the prickly energy boiling under his skin. He yelled again, the tock-crack of rocks hitting the trees not doing a damn thing to simmer the rage and confusion bubbling through him. "Why'd you do it, Dean?"
"Fuck him." Fuck Dean for dredging up feelings better left buried, fuck himself for wanting it…"What the hell am I going to do?" he whispered to nothing. Louder, he said, "Tell him to come." Sam folded his hands in front of him and didn't exactly pray, but didn't exactly not pray. "Tell him I want him to come. Bring him if you can," he said, and the sound of dozens of wings broke behind him.
"He's not in very good shape. He blames himself."
"He should," Sam shouted, wanting and sadness forgotten for a moment, "This is all his fault."
"Sam," Cas said. "Sam…."
Sam spun on his heel, sprinted towards the cabin. "Forget it, forget I said that."
+++
Sam held a bottle of Everclear he'd found under the kitchen sink in his hand. It hadn't taken much to fuck him up pretty good-turned out the linoleum on the kitchen floor was surprisingly comfy. He argued with himself, about the situation, about Dean.
"It was somethin' you're supposed to get over in grade school," he slurred. The stuffed squirrel he'd found under the sink as well said nothing, just gazed at him with its wise, beady black eyes. "That stupid crush disappeared, 'member, right after you got that messy hand job from whats'ername , junior high. Right? Yeah. Then we were all 'fuck you Dean, don’t need you and your stupid hot ass'. Remember?"
The squirrel continued to say nothing; it gave him a sage look. Of course it remembered. "You reme-remem…you freak, hiding in the bathroom, rubbin' one out, wishing…Dean. Stupid squirrel. Stupid fuckin' enabling squirrel…god, I'm so fuckin' drunk," he confided in the squirrel, the kindly, compassionate squirrel, "Last time I got this drunk, was what, sixteen, seventeen? I almost told." He held his finger over his lips, "Ssshhhush. Almost told Dean, jerked off in the bed and knew he was listenin' in the next bed, knew it. For a second…"
Sam staggered to his feet, spread his arms and yelled at the squirrel. "An' I was right, wasn't I? Did want me, look how he took advantage of me, tha dickface. Molested me when I couldn’t really give infroned, imfromed…give real consent, right? Right? Oh fuck you," he told the skeptical beady eyes.
He dropped back to the floor and sipped some more toxic, noxious brew. Dropped the bottle as enlightenment came; sharp and painful like a lightning strike. "Oh god…It was me-I forced him. I made him and he gave it to me, because he's…damn it. Fuck!"
Sam kicked the bottle and watched it spin across the floor. "Was me all the time." He was out before his head hit the floor.
+++
"Cas, bring Dean, please. I need to talk to him. Promise, just talk, that's all."
Cas didn't come, not that Sam really expected him to. He was sure Castiel had business of his own, and after being summoned and ignored a bunch of times, even angelic patience had to give. But not long after begging for Cas to being him his brother, Sam walked out of the cabin one morning and there he was. His brother.
Dean was standing in the yard, a look on his face that Sam found hard to interpret. "You all right, Sammy-Sam?"
Sam nodded. "Come on up, Dean."
Dean sidled up to the porch, trying to give Sam a wide berth. "Listen," he said, "I'm sorry. I swear to god, I'm so fuckin' sorry."
"I know, shut up about that. I'm not. Shit. It's not your fault. Okay? I'm the one who's sorry. It was all my fault."
"No it wasn't. But Sam, you should have seen yourself, you were…you were happy. More than that, you were- like the person you should have been all along. Not perfect, right, but. Ready to be happy." Dean shrugged, smiled, then the smile slid off his face. "But I had to go and ruin it for you, like I always do."
"You know, that world wasn't so different, Dean. I mean, yeah, it was different, but parts of it were the same. Like, um, me liking guys. I mean, I skew a little more-a lot more-towards girls but, ah… I'm, yeah. More than okay with guys. And you were the reason for that. No, wait," Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's sleeve at his horrified look.
"Not like that…I. Jesus. I'm doin' this all wrong. " Sam scrubbed his hands through his hair, leaving it sticking up wildly all over, and Dean smirked a bit, before sliding back into the pained look he'd been wearing since appearing. "I've had some degree of crush on you, since-shit, since I realized that Lion-O was just a cartoon but it didn't matter because I had a real life hero right there. And even once I realized that you were actually a flatulent, foul-mouthed, asshat of a jerk, I still loved you."
Dean gaped at him, eyes fluttering like he was blinking out Morse code. "Yeah? I mean-'m not flatulent-"
"So," Sam went on like Dean hadn't spoken. "We need to talk about this. I mean it, Dean-talk-not you tell me what you think is right for me. Okay?"
Dean nodded. "When you…hooked up with that Ginny girl, I thought, damn not again."
"I know what you thought, okay-"
"No, you don't. I wasn't worried she'd hook you on some… civilian version of demon blood. No, I thought. Fuck, thought I'd lost out again. I almost had it and I lost you again to her."
"Oh, hell no," Sam said. "She wasn't…she really was trying to help me, you know."
"God, I know," Dean said. " I was jealous. I was so jealous."
Sam smiled at him. "Really?"
"Dork," Dean said.
He invited Dean to stay for dinner, and Dean did all the cooking, making hamburger patties out of the meat Sam found in the freezer, and cooking it on the grill they found, miraculously whole and not too rusty, under the porch. It was good, and after dinner Sam told Dean goodnight, and shut the door on the sound of fluttering wings.
They talked on the phone, not about anything important: hunter gossip, everyday bullshit, just-stuff, but then Dean called with a request for help on a simple salt and burn; it was more a request for company than actual help and Sam knew it. Still, Sam loaded up a bag, and hiked out to the main road, to where Dean had parked the Impala. "No angel express?" he asked Dean.
Dean shot him a look liked he'd suggested playing golf with kittens as balls. "You think I'd let him air express my car anywhere?"
It was just as Dean described-a simple salt and burn, ancient bones that caught without much trouble in a coffin so rotted it fell apart under their shovels-best kind.
After they'd put down the ghost and helped themselves to the beers Dean had had the foresight to load in the trunk, talk moved to Bobby, and how unimpressed he'd been by what Dean had done. Where he'd stashed the Colt after he'd shot Lucifer with it and derailed the apocalypse. Why Cas still came when Dean called…but not a word about the big thing that'd happened in Jerryverse.
Dean snagged a motel room in town and Sam called Cas for a ride back to the cabin.
+++
He was standing where the sun hit the cabin wall most of the day, printouts featuring home repairs clutched in his hand. He squinted against the sun, eyeballing the roof, when he heard the throaty rumble of the only other home he'd ever known. He stood, eyes fixed on the roof, until Dean was at his back, peering over his shoulder.
"So. Fixing the place up. Making it a real…a real home. That's, uh. That's good, Sam. You should have your own place…is this legal?"
Sam laughed at that, laughed so damn hard his gut hurt, and tears came to his eyes, laughed until he was wheezing for breath and Dean laughed along with him, not as hard but still-laughing. He smiled when Sam staggered to a stop against the cabin's wall, and shrugged.
Sam relaxed against the wall, the stored warmth soaking into his back. "When the fuck did we ever worry about what was legal, dude?" and Dean flushed a deep, deep red. "Anyway, you don't have to worry- it is. Kind of. Anyone checks, this is my place, lock, stock, and faked papers. If anyone bothered. Bobby's got interesting friends."
Dean smiled. "I'm glad. I mean, this is kinda off the beaten path for a guy like you to retire, I always figured, I don’t know, college town or something-"
"Retired? Who the fuck said anything about retiring? So we iced Lucifer-there's a lot of residual crap to be cleaned up, you know that."
"Well…what's this then?"
Sam tilted an exasperated look at Dean. "You do know, don’t you, that most hunters have a home base? A place to regroup, stock up supplies and shit…not everyone lives out of motels and storage units. That was Dad's thing."
Dean opened his mouth like he was about to protest, and then, shrugged. "Yeah. I'm glad for you. So. Just stopped by since I was in the area, yeah."
"I was thinking of adding real bedrooms on this thing, opening up the kitchen, stuff like that. Come on in and I'll show you what I'm thinking-you can tell me if I'm full of shit or not."
"I-yeah? Okay. Sure, lemme take a look-"
+++
A couple of bottles of Miller later, they were sitting almost shoulder to shoulder on the porch. Sam pulled a beer from a plastic bucket full of mostly water at that point, passed the dripping bottle to his brother. "I guess I get why you did what you did. I just can't begin to believe you did it without asking. No, strike that-that's pretty much your SOP. Just…" he took a long, deep swallow. "The other thing. You know."
"Sam, fuck. Don’t ask me, okay? Please. I'm a…you said it, right? When you woke up. Sick fucking bastard. " He drew his hand back to throw the bottle at one of the trees on the edge of the yard and Sam locked on to his wrist and stopped him. "Oh, right," Dean gave him a twisted little smile. "You recycle?"
"Asshole. Look, if it escaped your notice, I was the one doing the chasing. Slow motion and pathetic as it was. Anyway, I had a new life, a new me…and I still chose you. I think I was pissed off that I did," Sam laughed. Maybe it held a bitter tinge, but what the hell, he thought. You had to laugh. Life.
Dean shook his head. "Don't say that, Sam. It's not your fault."
Sam gave Dean a long, level, Castiel-style look, weighing his chances-deciding pro and con. "Fuck it." He grabbed Dean by the back of the neck, pulled him in, covered his mouth with his own. A kiss. That was all, one kiss and then he'd know if he was crazy or if he was…well, crazier.
Dean was a plank and Sam figured that he'd fucked the pooch big time but-
"Sam, shit, Sam…" Dean came scrambling off the porch, practically throwing himself into Sam's lap and any fears, any reservations Sam might have had, vaporized. It was gratifying-fuck, it was almost frightening-the way Dean just lost it. He unraveled under Sam's mouth like he'd never been kissed before. It was different kissing Dean now than when he'd kissed him as Jerry. No matter how much Dean might have wanted it back there with Jerry, Sam could tell now that Dean had been holding back, out of guilt probably, likely. Definitely. But now…fucknhell.
Sam let the heat take him. Let it grow until he was hard, and desperate, craving everything and the slightest, most infinitesimal last bit of guilt he had was just-gone, like snow on a hot skillet.
He stood, yanked Dean to his feet and pulled him inside the cabin. "I'm going to, y'know, take your clothes off?"
"Asking, or telling?" Dean had the nerve to leer, like it was a joke. Sam growled, grabbed Dean's shirt in his hand and yanked it roughly over his head. "Hey! Ouch!"
Sam gave him an evil grin, and tossed the shirt as far as he could-let Dean try to slip out on him, he have to find his god damn clothes first…He worked Dean's zipper down like it was after a hunt and this was triage-zero sexiness to it but still, by the time Dean's jeans dropped to his ankles he was hard, a dark spot where the tip pressed against the worn fabric of his boxers. Sam stared, amazed that sight was fucking sexy as hell. Sam slowed-the realization that this was happening hitting him like a punch to the heart. He eased the boxers down, watched Dean's stomach jump as they slid slowly down his thighs.
"Jesus, Sammy, holy fuck…"
Sam sighed, dropped down and first rubbed his cheek on the smooth, warm swell, then swiped his tongue over the tight skin of Dean's dickhead. He did it quick, sort of testing himself, but when Dean groaned like he was dying, Sam flattened his tongue and licked harder, slower-it surprised him, how much he liked it…liked the feel of precome thick and slippery on his tongue, then the taste, sort of sweet but not, salty but not…he kept tasting and thinking until Dean wacked him in the side of the head. "Stop fucking around, damn it."
Sam pulled off, trying hard not to laugh. "See, that's your problem, you're so fuckin' impatient-"
"You sure, Sam? You sure about this?" Dean's face went all soft at the edges as he looked down at him and it made Sam's stomach flip, pleasantly.
"Needy bitch," Sam smiled when Dean snorted. "Yes, I'm sure." And pumped Dean a few times to emphasize his point. And to watch his face flush, his eyes go dark. Make him fall apart a little.
Dean smirked like he knew what Sam was thinking, and just pushed through Sam's hand in a long, lazy thrust and fuck, Sam thought that was hot….
Dean pulled away and let himself drop back on the couch, one leg on the floor and the other propped against the back and Sam wondered if he had any idea how it looked. He shivered when Dean wrapped his own hand around his dick, stroked slow, one long pull after another, and the little smirk faded into narrowed eyes and half-open mouth, the tip of his tongue darting out every time his palm swept over the leaking head. "C'mon, Sam…before I…" Dean squeezed, and hissed, arched as a long string of pre-come rolled out of his slit and dripped to his belly.
Sam watched it greedily and licked his lips, wanting to taste again but wanting more, too. He flung his stuff to wherever he'd flung Dean's. He hopped on one leg, trying to kick his boxers off, and Dean giggled softly. Sam stopped, mouth open. That giggle brought a flood of memories, Jerry memories, and they were all good ones. He grinned, and did a careful, controlled collapse on Dean, flattening their dicks between them. "Hey, Sex."
"What? God, shut up. You're not going to talk through this, are you?"
"Naw…you're gonna be making too much noise to hear me anyway."
Dean gaped, his eyes going wide and Sam couldn't help it, he kissed him again, hot and wet, until Dean was arching under him, begging him to touch, to fuck, to do something, for fuck's sake. "Patience…" Sam smiled, the smile pressed against the smooth skin above Dean's collarbone. Sam laved a long, slow, and thorough lick over skin smooth and sweet as candy, licking until he just had to nip, just a little. Dean yelped, and groaned-his hips jerked, rubbed his dick across Sam's stomach. The slick feel of pre-come warm against his skin made Sam shiver, he left his own trail in the soft crease of Dean's thigh, and it felt so good Sam did it again, and again, until he was fucking against Dean, slipping smoothly along of the cut of Dean's hip. "Good, that's good," he moaned, took Dean's dick in his hand because he wanted Dean to feel that good, too.
Dean's dick fattened up in his hand, getting a little thicker, a little longer, throbbed and slicked the cage of Sam's hand-the spike of lust that hit Sam made his toes curl and his balls ache, he moved faster, pressing down against his hot skin, shuddering when Dean started moaning non-stop, snapping his hips and driving his dick faster through Sam's fingers. Dean kept begging Sam to make him come and Sam pulled away, slid down to catch Dean's dick in his mouth.
Dean howled, "No"- came like he'd been electrocuted. The head of his dick wedged itself in Sam's throat for a few long seconds and filled Sam's mouth, his throat with come….
Sam sucked him until Dean hissed and pulled Sam back with a fistful of his hair. "You…you."
Sam leaned back, his dick twitching, his balls tight. "I'm gonna come on you, s'at okay?" he groaned and Dean just stared at Sam's hand working furiously over his dick.
"Fuck, yeah, Sam, show me-"
Sam cursed. Fisted his dick hard, fast and they both moaned when he came in long spurts on Dean's belly, his chest, his dick… Sam leaned back, breathing like he'd run a race, and dragged his thumb through the mess glinting on Dean's belly, rubbed it into his skin until Dean slapped his hand away.
"Freak. I need a shower-gross." But his fingers followed the path of Sam's thumb, slowly, in a way that if Dean was anyone else Sam would say tenderly…but that was crazy talk.
+++
Cas found them the next morning, sitting side by side, shoulders touching as they sipped hot coffee. Bare-chested, jeans barely zipped and snapped because there wasn't anyone else but them in the woods-well, now there was an embarrassed angel but he should have known better. Checked out the lay of the land before dropping himself into it.
Sam lifted his head lazily and gave Cas a slow smile, "Hey, Cas. G'morning." He raised his mug to the angel, his smile grew into a border-line leer.
Cas tilted his head. He gave Sam a narrow-eyed, purse-lipped look. He bet Castiel was seriously rethinking that memory thing right about now…if he'd landed a few hours earlier, odds are he'd be burning his own eyes out.
Dean rubbed at a bright red spot on his hip, just barely visible over the drooping waistband of his jeans and blushed a little. Go figure Dean would be the abashed one, Sam thought. For himself, screw that-he deserved this. He deserved a break for helping kill the devil and avert the apocalypse. So, yeah, not so much with the feeling guilt. The only thing he felt bad about, what he missed, were Jerry's friends and parts of Jerry's life…Sam hoped that they got over Jerry's disappearance okay, hoped they didn't think the worst but he wasn't going to ask Cas, and there was no way he'd try and find out and anyway….
Anyway, he had Dean. Dean, whose eyes wrinkled at the corners from the embarrassed smile he was trying to hide with the mug, the morning sun glinting off stray blond hairs scattered through the brown-and a few gray ones here and there but no way in the world was Sam about to point them out to his brother…Sam exhaled. Yeah.
He was going to be just fine.
9-9-2012
