Something More than this (2/?)
Something More Than This
Author: Dimitri Aidan
Follow up to ‘Falling is Easier’ and ‘Sweet Dreams’
Rating: I’d give it a hard R, to be careful
Dedicated: Mechante Fille and La Folle Allure.
Warnings: Slutty!Sam, Dark!Sam, Possessive!Dean, VaguelyDisgusted!Dean, violence, mentions of unprotected sex, and the beginnings of a D/s relationship.
Notes: I’ve been busy. I joined the Navy! Seaman Apprentice Dimitri at your service. (Eh. I needed the money…) Basic training and A-school are, let me tell you, long and tedious, and really doesn’t give one a chance to indulge in fanfiction writing time. My most humble of apologies.
Now, let’s see if I can still do this.
Summery: Dean takes the first steps to take control of Sammy.
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Part the Second
I wish you’d just quit breathing
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Dean was far from the sort of guy who’d never done anything kinky or ‘odd’ in his life. And yet, somehow, as he stood there, Sam’s skin just a touch hotter than it should have been under his fingertips, he couldn’t help but wonder how to proceed.
Sure, he’d had his less than socially acceptable thoughts about Sammy but he’d never really thought he’d end up here. Not that he knew exactly where ‘here’ was. That was okay though, flying blindly into strange situations was there bread and butter.
He let his fingers trail along his brother’s back slowly, mapping out each bump, scratch, and bundle of scar tissue. It wasn’t new, wasn’t different, but rather was familiar. How many of these scars had he cleaned out and bandaged when they were fresh; how many had he caused?
He knew this one here, right under the shoulder blade, a small circular mass, where he’d once fired an arrow. Accidentally of course, but intention didn’t matter when you had to hold your fourteen year old brother down so your father could push a bow staff through his shoulder.
I’m sorry didn’t really cut it either.
There was this one, on his left side, where a demon had nearly taken a piece of Sammy with him. Sam had been seventeen and, unbeknownst to Dean, on his way out of the ‘life’ anyway, but still to loyal to let him hunt alone. Dad had been gone, as he usually was, and protecting his brother had fallen on him, as it usually did.
He’d failed, as he usually did. Dad had ripped him a new one when he got back, and that too had been the usual routine.
Things were different now though, there were marks he didn’t know. How long had it been since he’d seen Sam without him shirt before today? Why had his brother developed the strange habit of dressing in the bathroom anyway, and why hadn’t that caught his attention before it was too late?
“We need to talk.” The words left his mouth before he even knew he was thinking them. He frowned, not liking the way they sounded, even though he knew it was true. “Not in the girly way or anything like that, but still.”
He got a ghost of a smile and he almost allowed himself one but didn’t. He couldn’t let Sammy continue to destroy himself anymore, had to make it so his brother understood that things were not the same. This wasn’t a game to Dean, in fact he could only think of a few things that he thought were as serious as this.
“I trust you with my life, and I always will, but now I can’t trust you with your own. You said you need the pain but it’s more than that; you’re out of control. We can’t afford to be out of control and you know that, but you’re doing it anyway.
“I’ll keep your nightmare away, I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back to a good place Sammy, but I know for that to work everything has to change. Someone has to be in control of you and it’s obvious that it can’t be you.
“Structure Sam, rules.” Dean worked rather well within the confines of rules, as badass and ‘rebel’ as he appeared to be. Their dad had raised them almost military style and that was all about rules. About finding a routine in all of the chaos of their lives, and to a degree he’d appreciated that. That’s what Sam needed now, something stable while their lives continued to spiral out of control and down the crapper.
Sam looked over at him, eyes wary but also curious. Maybe even a touch eager. Dean absently wondered when their lives had gotten this screwed up.
“No more going out by yourself unless its for a damn good reason, and I’m the one who decides if it’s a good one or not.” He moved his hand, breaking contact, and stood up. He began to pace, allowing the movement to clear his mind. “If you even think about leaving my sight I swear to God I will…”
Well, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. But it’d be bad, he knew that much.
“I don’t want anymore of this secretive crap when it comes to your visions and spoon bending or whatever else you can do. I want to know it all. In fact I want to know everything.” He looked at Sam, who was just watching him, eyes wider than usual. His eyes darted down to the marks, to his neck, and finally settled back on his face. “No clothes.”
Sam’s eyebrow quirked just slightly and Dean could read the silent question as if he had thought it himself: What? He made a vague gesture as he searched his mind for the right words. He was half tempted to use his usual ‘Because I said so’, but part of him felt that it was best to explain everything, to keep everything perfectly clear.
“You’ve been hiding all of this shit from me, covering up all the marks and bruises. I’m not letting you hide from me anymore.” He paused again, trying to find exactly the right words. “I don’t want you doing anything, outside of hunting, without running it past me; I don’t care if you just want to go get ice down the hall.”
He expected an argument. After all, arguing with him was part of what Sam did best, but he just got a slow blink in reply. It was surprising and Dean was actually at a lost of a moment. Sam not fighting back was just…weird.
He rubbed his hand over his head then sighed. He didn’t know what else to say and he wasn’t going to pretend to. He didn’t even know what he was doing really, just knew that there was something that Sam needed and that he needed to provide it, and that he needed to keep his brother under control.
Whatever. He was done for tonight. Too much had gone on today and, in all honesty, he’d wanted nothing more than to come back, wash off the sewer water, and go to bed. It was almost midnight now, about eight hours later, and he was fucking tired.
He looked at the bed, the sane part of him begging to know why he’d only gotten one bed. He knew why, of course, but that didn’t make this any less awkward.
Then again what hadn’t been awkward?
“We’re going to bed.” Simple, to the point. He didn’t look at Sam for a response, deciding as he crossed the room to the light switch, that he was too tired to give a damn. Tomorrow, maybe, he could approach this with a clear mind and really get a handle on things.
He settled in next to his brother, who had moved to the far side of the bed. Dean laid there and stared at the ceiling for a long moment, thinking. Then he reached over, hand finding Sam’s arm and pulling until his brother was almost on top of him. Sam was stiff, so much so that he could feel the tension in the other man’s body, warm breathe moving over Dean’s neck and cheek. His lips were almost touching his skin and he could just barely smell the flowery motel issue shampoo in his hair.
He shifted just slightly so he was looking at Sam, who he could see staring back at him. He leaned in slightly, just enough to brush his lips over Sam’s. It was strange, just a light touch, and very much not Dean in the least. Usually when people ended up in his bed the clothes were off and the only closeness involved was the kind involved in fucking.
“Dean.” Sam’s voice was quiet, almost cautious. “I don’t-”
“Go to sleep Sammy.”
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Next Time: In Which Dean Does Some Research and Sam Already Steps Out Of Line.