New SPN fic - Sam/Dean - everybody in the whole cell block
YAY WINCEST \o/
*koff*
Thanks to monkiedude for the awesome beta. AND HEARTS, baby!
Title - everybody in the whole cell block
Pairing - Sam/Dean
Rating - NC17
Word Count - 3083
everybody in the whole cell block
Sam heard Dean's footsteps before he saw him. He wasn't walking slowly, but not exactly fast either. Kind of wandering along, la di da, as if this was just a regular night. Nothing special. Your average, everyday occurrence.
As if Sam didn't have to call Dean to come bail him out of jail.
"Well, well, well," Sam heard Dean say, his voice low and teasing. Dean whistled softly, then kicked a foot against the bars of the cell. Sam was sitting on the floor with his head against the wall, knees pulled up against his chest. His eyes had been closed, and when he opened them, he saw Dean's face split into a wide grin. "If this ain't the best thing I've seen all year."
"Dean," Sam warned. Dean just grinned wider. Oh, he was loving this.
"No, really." Dean propped one shoulder against the bar and cupped his chin in his hand. "I'm just trying to decide which you'd look better in: the black and white stripes, or maybe one of those little orange numbers. Woohoo." Dean finished up by whistling softly between his teeth.
Sam rolled his eyes and pushed to his feet. He'd be getting the hell out of this pit soon - halle-freaking-lujah - and if he had to deal with some of Dean's shit in the meantime, Sam figured he probably earned it. "Yeah, yeah," he said, walking over until there was only a few inches of space between them. And, of course, the bars of the cell. "Are you bailing me out or what?"
Dean didn't say anything for so long Sam started to worry. Maybe Dean really wasn't there to bail him out. Maybe he got Sam's call and said yeah, he'd come, but it was only to bust Sam's chops. Taunt him a little bit, then leave him hanging for the night. Sam didn't think that was something Dean would do, but then again, these days, none of them seemed to be doing what they were supposed to.
"Yeah, come on," Dean finally said, motioning to the guard standing behind him. Sam hadn't noticed him standing there earlier. Christ, he really needed to start paying attention more. "I already bailed you out," Dean told him, then grinned around the toothpick he'd just stuck between his teeth. "Asked my friend here if I could bust your balls for a few minutes first, though. Figured you deserved it."
Sam snorted and tossed the hair back from his eyes. The key tumbled in the lock, and then the door pushed open and Sam was free, free, free. Thank god. He'd been starting to feel claustrophobic.
He pushed past Dean and strode toward the desk where his wallet and watch were being held. Dean tsk-ed softly behind him, and Sam heard him mutter under his breath, "Well, you're welcome, Sammy. Good seeing you too."
*
Dean's teasing mood lasted just until they got to the car.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?" Dean spat out, reaching over and smacking Sam on the side of the head.
"Ow! Shit!"
"Answer me, Sam. What the fuck were you thinking?"
Sam leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Dean sounded angrier than Sam had ever heard, but Sam knew he could ignore it for the moment and just enjoy sitting in the car, away from everything else. Away from the whole damn night, if Sam was being honest. Getting picked up by the cops, the jail cell. The phone call to Dean. Sam just needed a minute to relax.
The Impala felt as much like home as anyplace had in Sam's life. It even smelled the same. Like Dean and Sam and the faint traces of oil and greasy, truck stop burgers. The engine rumbled to life, and Sam reached out to lock the door, his fingers lingering in the metal knob.
"Three weeks you're gone - three measly fucking weeks - and the first time I hear from you is to come bail your stupid ass out of jail. Jesus." Dean made a disgusted sound low in his throat and backed the car out of the parking lot. "And here I thought you were supposed to be the smart one," he muttered.
Sam's stomach twisted. Dean sounding so…disappointed in him was worse than anything. Worse than their dad being pissed off and yelling. Worse than the stony silence Dean gave him for days before Sam left. Worse than-
"I'm sorry," Sam managed to say. "It was just a stupid thing, and I didn't think we'd get caught and-"
"Dude. You were shoplifting. In a goddamn convenience store." Dean slanted Sam a look. Sam tightened his jaw and met Dean's stare evenly. "Do you realize you could get kicked out of school for this? You think your fancy-schmancy scholarship applies to loser criminals?"
Sam's stomach fell. Shit. He hadn't even thought of that. It was just supposed to be a stupid game, a sort of freshman hazing type thing. It wasn't supposed to be-
"I took care of it for you," Dean told him quietly.
Sam took a deep breath. "What?"
"I talked to the guy, the cop. Explained everything. Told him how upstanding and asskissing you'd been all your life and all that other bullshit." The highway slipped by the Impala's windows in a blur. Sam couldn't focus on anything other than the conversation they were having. Dean could be driving them to Mars, for all Sam knew.
"You what?" Sam licked his lips. The fingers of his right hand curled into a fist. His palm was sweaty.
"I talked to the cop." Dean lifted one shoulder in a shrug. There was a glowing red motel sign ahead in the distance, and Dean flicked the turn signal on to pull off the highway. "He was just doing it to scare you anyway, but I explained about the dare, the scholarship. He said he'd forget about it this time as long as he never saw your stupid face again."
Relief flooded Sam's body. He slumped back into the seat and let out a long, shaky breath. That had been close, closer than he'd even realized. He rolled his head slowly, back and forth on the seat. "Dean," Sam said quietly, waiting until Dean looked at him to add, "Thanks."
Dean huffed, but Sam could see the corner of his mouth twitch in a smile. "Whatever, dude," he said, as he pulled the car into a motel parking lot.
*
"You could have just taken me back to school, you know," Sam said. He was sitting on the edge of the bed while Dean washed up in the tiny bathroom.
"Yeah, well, I don't feel like driving anymore tonight. How's that," Dean answered. His voice was muffled, probably behind a towel as he dried his face if Sam was picturing it right.
Sam picked at the lumpy, blue bedspread. The white threading was loose in places and Sam found a stray end and tugged until he was holding the broken strong in his hand. "Hey," he heard Dean say. When Sam lifted his head, he wound up with a face full of wet towel. "Bathroom's free."
*
The lights were out, the room pitch black without even a street sign out front to give off any light. Sam could hear Dean breathing in the bed next to him. It was comfortable, something Sam knew. He didn't realize how much he'd missed Dean until he saw him again, and then everything came back to Sam at once. Everything they'd always had and always been, and everything he didn't have any more. Sam had his school, some friends, the beginnings of a normal life, but nothing ever compared to Dean.
"Hey," Sam whispered, quietly enough that Dean could pretend not to hear him if he didn't want. Sam knew Dean wasn't sleeping, but that didn't mean he felt like talking.
The sheets in the bed next to him rustled, and then Sam heard Dean say, "What?"
Sam licked his lips. He wanted…he didn't even know what he wanted. Well, he did, but he didn't know how to ask for it anymore. It hadn't even been that long, but things had been so weird when he left, Sam didn't know if he had the right to ask Dean for anything.
"What did you tell Dad?" was what Sam finally said. He was glad the room was so dark. That way, Dean wouldn't see as Sam lightly punched himself in the head. Sometimes he could be such a tool.
Dean snorted. "You think I told Dad about this? Seriously, dude. Are you sure you're the smart one here?"
Sam grabbed one of the extra pillows and lobbed it across the short space between their beds. Sam could tell by the soft sound the pillow made it had hit Dean square in the face; Dean laughed out loud.
Neither of them said anything for a minute after that. Sam's breathing sounded heavy and loud to his own ears. His mouth was dry, his palms sweaty. When Dean said his name, Sam nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Yeah?" Sam answered.
He could see the motion of Dean shrugging a shoulder. "Nothing, just…" Sam could feel his pulse beating everywhere -- his head, his hands, behind his eyes. Dean's voice was rough when he asked, "Did you really wake me up to ask about Dad?"
Sam wasn't going to get a better opportunity than that. He pushed the covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Dean was lying on his side, one arm pushed under his pillow, but his eyes were wide open and clear. "Sam," Dean said, and that was it, that was enough. Sam was up and out of the bed, pushing the sheets back from Dean's body and crawling on top of him.
Dean shoved over to the middle of the bed, dragging Sam with him. Sam laughed against Dean's mouth, kissed the stubble on his cheek. "Jesus, Dean," Sam whispered, kissing hot skin, licking the side of Dean's neck.
This was what he'd been missing. This was what had him lying awake in bed every night: the feeling that something was off, something just wasn't right. Sam had the beginnings of everything else he ever wanted, but nothing he'd ever had before. So none of it felt real, because Sam couldn't associate it with anything else.
And none of it, ever, felt like this. Dean's hands were in Sam's hair, yanking his head back. His teeth, sharp and slick, bit down on Sam's skin, across the line of his jaw, just a shade too hard and rough.
"Sam." Dean's voice was soft and ripped open. His fingers brushed over Sam's forehead and cheeks, down to hold his shoulders. Their chests were bare, and Sam could swear he could feel Dean's heart, the steady thump-thump-thump, beating hard and fast.
Dean's eyes were open wide, his mouth parted on a breath as Sam touched his chest, bit down on his shoulder, and reached down to shove at their boxers. Dean wriggled, kicked his off and then his hands were moving, helping Sam with his, until it was just them, nothing other than sweat and skin.
"God, Sam." Dean's head was back, his throat arched. Sam wrapped his fingers around Dean's cock, feeling him flex and fill his hand. He slid up against the skin of Dean's hip, and then Dean was reaching down, grabbing Sam and pulling him so their dicks were touching. "You do it," Dean rasped out. "I want - fuck. Your hand, Sam. God, you're so-"
Sam bit his lip. He twisted his hand and squeezed the both of them, feeling their cocks press against each other, slide through his fingers. Dean had one hand on Sam's back, and he was pulling Sam closer, harder, pushing up from his hips on the bed, and down with his hand, and it was tighter and hotter than anything Sam had remembered. For as many times as him and Dean had done this, Sam didn't remember ever needing it this much, feeling this desperate.
"Open your mouth," Dean commanded softly. Sam blinked his eyes open. Dean held two fingers up, pushing them over Sam's lips, past his teeth. Sam curled his tongue, tasting sweat and salt, and drove his hips down harder, moving his hand faster as Dean pulled his fingers out and trailed them down Sam's back and over the cheek of his ass.
"Dean, please," Sam panted as Dean teased him, fingers trailing slowly over his skin. Sam felt like he was losing his mind. He wanted to come, needed to come so fucking badly, but with Dean's hand there, all he wanted now was Dean's fingers inside him. He wanted to feel-
"Like this?" Dean said, before pressing one finger against him, just the tip slipping inside.
Sam's body felt like it was on fire. He pushed back against Dean's hand, forward with his hips. Sam took his free arm and dragged them both up until Dean's back was against the headboard, Sam straddling his lap, Dean sliding and twisting first one, then two fingers into his body.
"Right there," Sam breathed. "Right - fuck, yeah. Just like that. Right-" He squeezed his eyes shut as he came, body shaking and come spilling over his fingers and onto his belly. He was panting, his muscles felt stretched out and weak, and he wiped the come off his stomach and let his dick slip free before coating Dean's cock and squeezing again.
"Oh, god," Dean murmured. He had his head back against the headboard, his eyes wide open and blinking. "Yeah, that's-" Sam tightened his fist, moved his hand fast, hard, twisting just as he got to the head, like he knew Dean liked. He leaned over and kissed Dean's shoulder, the side of his throat. He kissed Dean's cheek and mouth and forehead, smiling when Dean came saying Sam's name.
*
They fell asleep not long after, and when Sam woke up in the morning with Dean next to him, he had a split second freakout thinking he'd hallucinated the past three weeks at Stanford. Did he even really go? Maybe the whole thing had been a dream. Or even worse, maybe it didn't even happen yet. Maybe he hadn't even told Dad, maybe they didn't have the fight, maybe Sam didn't pack his shit and get on a bus and-
"Oh, god. You're doing it already, aren't you?" Dean's elbow jabbed Sam in the ribs. "It's not even six. Go back to sleep and I'll take you to school in a little while."
Sam let out a long breath. "School. Right. Yeah."
He'd just closed his eyes again when he heard Dean mutter, "I mean, unless, of course, you wanted to knock over a few banks or something on the way back."
Sam shot his brother a glare before yanking the pillow out from under Dean's head.
*
Dean insisted on walking all the way up to Sam's room with him. "Want to make sure you don't mug any old ladies on your way there or nothing."
Sam huffed. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I?"
Dean's grin was wide and blinding. "Nope."
The key only got stuck in the lock a little bit, and once Sam jiggled it, it was fine. He pushed open the door and walked inside, looking at the room like a stranger would see it. Like Dean would see it.
Sam's bed was small and pushed up against the wall and under the one tiny window in the room. He had an old plaid bedspread and dark blue sheets he picked up from a secondhand store a few blocks away from the school. The room was neat, all his textbooks and notebooks stacked in even piles on the beat up desk that came with the room. Sam's clothes were folded and took up two milk crates, one sitting on top of the other.
Dean looked around the room, took it all in. He walked over to the desk and rapped his knuckles on the top textbook, smirking as he said, "Latin, Sammy? Isn't that a, whaddya call it, unfair advantage?"
Sam laughed quietly. "In college it's called an easy A."
Dean chuckled, and Sam held his breath. He felt insecure all of a sudden. His room and his books and his life had all seemed like something so real, so grownup, until he was standing with Dean, looking at it like Dean would, and then Sam wondered if it all seemed stupid to him. If he was looking at Sam like he was just some dumb kid.
When Dean turned around, he gave Sam a small smile. "It's really cool, Sam," Dean said.
Sam swallowed. "Yeah?"
"Totally."
Dean rapped his knuckles on the book again and cleared his throat. "So, listen. Call me if you need anything, all right?"
Sam blinked quickly and looked away. He rubbed a hand over his mouth. It was like saying goodbye all over again, and it hit Sam, one more time, that Dean was never the one he wanted to leave.
"I will," Sam finally said, smiling a little as Dean cuffed him on the side of the head.
"I mean, cause, you know, I'm not sure what else you've got planned for the rest of the weekend, and all," Dean teased. "There's got to be some cars around here to steal, I'm guessing, right?"
"Dean."
"I think we passed a gas station a few blocks back, you could always try and hit that up when the sun goes down."
Sam rolled his eyes and started walking Dean toward the door. "All right. I get your point."
"You know, I've heard that armed robbery is an awesome pastime." Dean snapped his gum and flashed Sam a grin, exaggerating a stumble when Sam shoved him into the hall.
"Take care, Dean," Sam called, leaning against the doorjamb as Dean started walking slowly down the hall. His brother, man. There was no one like him.
"See ya, Sammy," Dean said back, waving a hand over his head.
Sam stood by the door and watched Dean's back get smaller and smaller the farther he walked down the hall. When Dean turned around to face him before starting to whistle Jailhouse Rock with a smile, Sam flipped him the bird, then tossed his head back and laughed.
-end-
*koff*
Thanks to monkiedude for the awesome beta. AND HEARTS, baby!
Title - everybody in the whole cell block
Pairing - Sam/Dean
Rating - NC17
Word Count - 3083
everybody in the whole cell block
Sam heard Dean's footsteps before he saw him. He wasn't walking slowly, but not exactly fast either. Kind of wandering along, la di da, as if this was just a regular night. Nothing special. Your average, everyday occurrence.
As if Sam didn't have to call Dean to come bail him out of jail.
"Well, well, well," Sam heard Dean say, his voice low and teasing. Dean whistled softly, then kicked a foot against the bars of the cell. Sam was sitting on the floor with his head against the wall, knees pulled up against his chest. His eyes had been closed, and when he opened them, he saw Dean's face split into a wide grin. "If this ain't the best thing I've seen all year."
"Dean," Sam warned. Dean just grinned wider. Oh, he was loving this.
"No, really." Dean propped one shoulder against the bar and cupped his chin in his hand. "I'm just trying to decide which you'd look better in: the black and white stripes, or maybe one of those little orange numbers. Woohoo." Dean finished up by whistling softly between his teeth.
Sam rolled his eyes and pushed to his feet. He'd be getting the hell out of this pit soon - halle-freaking-lujah - and if he had to deal with some of Dean's shit in the meantime, Sam figured he probably earned it. "Yeah, yeah," he said, walking over until there was only a few inches of space between them. And, of course, the bars of the cell. "Are you bailing me out or what?"
Dean didn't say anything for so long Sam started to worry. Maybe Dean really wasn't there to bail him out. Maybe he got Sam's call and said yeah, he'd come, but it was only to bust Sam's chops. Taunt him a little bit, then leave him hanging for the night. Sam didn't think that was something Dean would do, but then again, these days, none of them seemed to be doing what they were supposed to.
"Yeah, come on," Dean finally said, motioning to the guard standing behind him. Sam hadn't noticed him standing there earlier. Christ, he really needed to start paying attention more. "I already bailed you out," Dean told him, then grinned around the toothpick he'd just stuck between his teeth. "Asked my friend here if I could bust your balls for a few minutes first, though. Figured you deserved it."
Sam snorted and tossed the hair back from his eyes. The key tumbled in the lock, and then the door pushed open and Sam was free, free, free. Thank god. He'd been starting to feel claustrophobic.
He pushed past Dean and strode toward the desk where his wallet and watch were being held. Dean tsk-ed softly behind him, and Sam heard him mutter under his breath, "Well, you're welcome, Sammy. Good seeing you too."
*
Dean's teasing mood lasted just until they got to the car.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?" Dean spat out, reaching over and smacking Sam on the side of the head.
"Ow! Shit!"
"Answer me, Sam. What the fuck were you thinking?"
Sam leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Dean sounded angrier than Sam had ever heard, but Sam knew he could ignore it for the moment and just enjoy sitting in the car, away from everything else. Away from the whole damn night, if Sam was being honest. Getting picked up by the cops, the jail cell. The phone call to Dean. Sam just needed a minute to relax.
The Impala felt as much like home as anyplace had in Sam's life. It even smelled the same. Like Dean and Sam and the faint traces of oil and greasy, truck stop burgers. The engine rumbled to life, and Sam reached out to lock the door, his fingers lingering in the metal knob.
"Three weeks you're gone - three measly fucking weeks - and the first time I hear from you is to come bail your stupid ass out of jail. Jesus." Dean made a disgusted sound low in his throat and backed the car out of the parking lot. "And here I thought you were supposed to be the smart one," he muttered.
Sam's stomach twisted. Dean sounding so…disappointed in him was worse than anything. Worse than their dad being pissed off and yelling. Worse than the stony silence Dean gave him for days before Sam left. Worse than-
"I'm sorry," Sam managed to say. "It was just a stupid thing, and I didn't think we'd get caught and-"
"Dude. You were shoplifting. In a goddamn convenience store." Dean slanted Sam a look. Sam tightened his jaw and met Dean's stare evenly. "Do you realize you could get kicked out of school for this? You think your fancy-schmancy scholarship applies to loser criminals?"
Sam's stomach fell. Shit. He hadn't even thought of that. It was just supposed to be a stupid game, a sort of freshman hazing type thing. It wasn't supposed to be-
"I took care of it for you," Dean told him quietly.
Sam took a deep breath. "What?"
"I talked to the guy, the cop. Explained everything. Told him how upstanding and asskissing you'd been all your life and all that other bullshit." The highway slipped by the Impala's windows in a blur. Sam couldn't focus on anything other than the conversation they were having. Dean could be driving them to Mars, for all Sam knew.
"You what?" Sam licked his lips. The fingers of his right hand curled into a fist. His palm was sweaty.
"I talked to the cop." Dean lifted one shoulder in a shrug. There was a glowing red motel sign ahead in the distance, and Dean flicked the turn signal on to pull off the highway. "He was just doing it to scare you anyway, but I explained about the dare, the scholarship. He said he'd forget about it this time as long as he never saw your stupid face again."
Relief flooded Sam's body. He slumped back into the seat and let out a long, shaky breath. That had been close, closer than he'd even realized. He rolled his head slowly, back and forth on the seat. "Dean," Sam said quietly, waiting until Dean looked at him to add, "Thanks."
Dean huffed, but Sam could see the corner of his mouth twitch in a smile. "Whatever, dude," he said, as he pulled the car into a motel parking lot.
*
"You could have just taken me back to school, you know," Sam said. He was sitting on the edge of the bed while Dean washed up in the tiny bathroom.
"Yeah, well, I don't feel like driving anymore tonight. How's that," Dean answered. His voice was muffled, probably behind a towel as he dried his face if Sam was picturing it right.
Sam picked at the lumpy, blue bedspread. The white threading was loose in places and Sam found a stray end and tugged until he was holding the broken strong in his hand. "Hey," he heard Dean say. When Sam lifted his head, he wound up with a face full of wet towel. "Bathroom's free."
*
The lights were out, the room pitch black without even a street sign out front to give off any light. Sam could hear Dean breathing in the bed next to him. It was comfortable, something Sam knew. He didn't realize how much he'd missed Dean until he saw him again, and then everything came back to Sam at once. Everything they'd always had and always been, and everything he didn't have any more. Sam had his school, some friends, the beginnings of a normal life, but nothing ever compared to Dean.
"Hey," Sam whispered, quietly enough that Dean could pretend not to hear him if he didn't want. Sam knew Dean wasn't sleeping, but that didn't mean he felt like talking.
The sheets in the bed next to him rustled, and then Sam heard Dean say, "What?"
Sam licked his lips. He wanted…he didn't even know what he wanted. Well, he did, but he didn't know how to ask for it anymore. It hadn't even been that long, but things had been so weird when he left, Sam didn't know if he had the right to ask Dean for anything.
"What did you tell Dad?" was what Sam finally said. He was glad the room was so dark. That way, Dean wouldn't see as Sam lightly punched himself in the head. Sometimes he could be such a tool.
Dean snorted. "You think I told Dad about this? Seriously, dude. Are you sure you're the smart one here?"
Sam grabbed one of the extra pillows and lobbed it across the short space between their beds. Sam could tell by the soft sound the pillow made it had hit Dean square in the face; Dean laughed out loud.
Neither of them said anything for a minute after that. Sam's breathing sounded heavy and loud to his own ears. His mouth was dry, his palms sweaty. When Dean said his name, Sam nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Yeah?" Sam answered.
He could see the motion of Dean shrugging a shoulder. "Nothing, just…" Sam could feel his pulse beating everywhere -- his head, his hands, behind his eyes. Dean's voice was rough when he asked, "Did you really wake me up to ask about Dad?"
Sam wasn't going to get a better opportunity than that. He pushed the covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Dean was lying on his side, one arm pushed under his pillow, but his eyes were wide open and clear. "Sam," Dean said, and that was it, that was enough. Sam was up and out of the bed, pushing the sheets back from Dean's body and crawling on top of him.
Dean shoved over to the middle of the bed, dragging Sam with him. Sam laughed against Dean's mouth, kissed the stubble on his cheek. "Jesus, Dean," Sam whispered, kissing hot skin, licking the side of Dean's neck.
This was what he'd been missing. This was what had him lying awake in bed every night: the feeling that something was off, something just wasn't right. Sam had the beginnings of everything else he ever wanted, but nothing he'd ever had before. So none of it felt real, because Sam couldn't associate it with anything else.
And none of it, ever, felt like this. Dean's hands were in Sam's hair, yanking his head back. His teeth, sharp and slick, bit down on Sam's skin, across the line of his jaw, just a shade too hard and rough.
"Sam." Dean's voice was soft and ripped open. His fingers brushed over Sam's forehead and cheeks, down to hold his shoulders. Their chests were bare, and Sam could swear he could feel Dean's heart, the steady thump-thump-thump, beating hard and fast.
Dean's eyes were open wide, his mouth parted on a breath as Sam touched his chest, bit down on his shoulder, and reached down to shove at their boxers. Dean wriggled, kicked his off and then his hands were moving, helping Sam with his, until it was just them, nothing other than sweat and skin.
"God, Sam." Dean's head was back, his throat arched. Sam wrapped his fingers around Dean's cock, feeling him flex and fill his hand. He slid up against the skin of Dean's hip, and then Dean was reaching down, grabbing Sam and pulling him so their dicks were touching. "You do it," Dean rasped out. "I want - fuck. Your hand, Sam. God, you're so-"
Sam bit his lip. He twisted his hand and squeezed the both of them, feeling their cocks press against each other, slide through his fingers. Dean had one hand on Sam's back, and he was pulling Sam closer, harder, pushing up from his hips on the bed, and down with his hand, and it was tighter and hotter than anything Sam had remembered. For as many times as him and Dean had done this, Sam didn't remember ever needing it this much, feeling this desperate.
"Open your mouth," Dean commanded softly. Sam blinked his eyes open. Dean held two fingers up, pushing them over Sam's lips, past his teeth. Sam curled his tongue, tasting sweat and salt, and drove his hips down harder, moving his hand faster as Dean pulled his fingers out and trailed them down Sam's back and over the cheek of his ass.
"Dean, please," Sam panted as Dean teased him, fingers trailing slowly over his skin. Sam felt like he was losing his mind. He wanted to come, needed to come so fucking badly, but with Dean's hand there, all he wanted now was Dean's fingers inside him. He wanted to feel-
"Like this?" Dean said, before pressing one finger against him, just the tip slipping inside.
Sam's body felt like it was on fire. He pushed back against Dean's hand, forward with his hips. Sam took his free arm and dragged them both up until Dean's back was against the headboard, Sam straddling his lap, Dean sliding and twisting first one, then two fingers into his body.
"Right there," Sam breathed. "Right - fuck, yeah. Just like that. Right-" He squeezed his eyes shut as he came, body shaking and come spilling over his fingers and onto his belly. He was panting, his muscles felt stretched out and weak, and he wiped the come off his stomach and let his dick slip free before coating Dean's cock and squeezing again.
"Oh, god," Dean murmured. He had his head back against the headboard, his eyes wide open and blinking. "Yeah, that's-" Sam tightened his fist, moved his hand fast, hard, twisting just as he got to the head, like he knew Dean liked. He leaned over and kissed Dean's shoulder, the side of his throat. He kissed Dean's cheek and mouth and forehead, smiling when Dean came saying Sam's name.
*
They fell asleep not long after, and when Sam woke up in the morning with Dean next to him, he had a split second freakout thinking he'd hallucinated the past three weeks at Stanford. Did he even really go? Maybe the whole thing had been a dream. Or even worse, maybe it didn't even happen yet. Maybe he hadn't even told Dad, maybe they didn't have the fight, maybe Sam didn't pack his shit and get on a bus and-
"Oh, god. You're doing it already, aren't you?" Dean's elbow jabbed Sam in the ribs. "It's not even six. Go back to sleep and I'll take you to school in a little while."
Sam let out a long breath. "School. Right. Yeah."
He'd just closed his eyes again when he heard Dean mutter, "I mean, unless, of course, you wanted to knock over a few banks or something on the way back."
Sam shot his brother a glare before yanking the pillow out from under Dean's head.
*
Dean insisted on walking all the way up to Sam's room with him. "Want to make sure you don't mug any old ladies on your way there or nothing."
Sam huffed. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I?"
Dean's grin was wide and blinding. "Nope."
The key only got stuck in the lock a little bit, and once Sam jiggled it, it was fine. He pushed open the door and walked inside, looking at the room like a stranger would see it. Like Dean would see it.
Sam's bed was small and pushed up against the wall and under the one tiny window in the room. He had an old plaid bedspread and dark blue sheets he picked up from a secondhand store a few blocks away from the school. The room was neat, all his textbooks and notebooks stacked in even piles on the beat up desk that came with the room. Sam's clothes were folded and took up two milk crates, one sitting on top of the other.
Dean looked around the room, took it all in. He walked over to the desk and rapped his knuckles on the top textbook, smirking as he said, "Latin, Sammy? Isn't that a, whaddya call it, unfair advantage?"
Sam laughed quietly. "In college it's called an easy A."
Dean chuckled, and Sam held his breath. He felt insecure all of a sudden. His room and his books and his life had all seemed like something so real, so grownup, until he was standing with Dean, looking at it like Dean would, and then Sam wondered if it all seemed stupid to him. If he was looking at Sam like he was just some dumb kid.
When Dean turned around, he gave Sam a small smile. "It's really cool, Sam," Dean said.
Sam swallowed. "Yeah?"
"Totally."
Dean rapped his knuckles on the book again and cleared his throat. "So, listen. Call me if you need anything, all right?"
Sam blinked quickly and looked away. He rubbed a hand over his mouth. It was like saying goodbye all over again, and it hit Sam, one more time, that Dean was never the one he wanted to leave.
"I will," Sam finally said, smiling a little as Dean cuffed him on the side of the head.
"I mean, cause, you know, I'm not sure what else you've got planned for the rest of the weekend, and all," Dean teased. "There's got to be some cars around here to steal, I'm guessing, right?"
"Dean."
"I think we passed a gas station a few blocks back, you could always try and hit that up when the sun goes down."
Sam rolled his eyes and started walking Dean toward the door. "All right. I get your point."
"You know, I've heard that armed robbery is an awesome pastime." Dean snapped his gum and flashed Sam a grin, exaggerating a stumble when Sam shoved him into the hall.
"Take care, Dean," Sam called, leaning against the doorjamb as Dean started walking slowly down the hall. His brother, man. There was no one like him.
"See ya, Sammy," Dean said back, waving a hand over his head.
Sam stood by the door and watched Dean's back get smaller and smaller the farther he walked down the hall. When Dean turned around to face him before starting to whistle Jailhouse Rock with a smile, Sam flipped him the bird, then tossed his head back and laughed.
-end-