Ficlets: Five Times Sam Left Stanford For Dean. SPN. NC-17. Sam/Dean
Another of those, this is also for poisontaster. Hope you like, darling.
Title: Five Times Sam left Stanford for Dean.
Author: felisblanco
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters, pairing: Sam, Dean, John, Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 to be on the safe side
Warning: Angst, Wincest (duh) and, in one of them, character death.
A/N: Some of these could probably fit together in the same verse but they are written as separate stories. Unbeta'd.
The first week at college, Sam packs his bags every night and then calls Dean, asking him to come pick him up and bring him back home. Dean doesn’t snort or huff, just shows up incredibly fast, almost before Sam has time to hang up. They hold each other tight, Sam whispering “Sorry” and “Not you, I never wanted to leave you” as Dean rubs his back soothingly, before grabbing Sam by the neck and pulling him down for a kiss.
They drive home in the dark, Dean’s hand resting on Sam’s thigh, Sam’s fingers rubbing Dean’s earlobe. Once there, Dean steps aside while their dad gives Sam a hug and welcomes him back home. “It’s ok, son. We’ll work this out somehow. Of course you can go to college. We’ll find a place to stay nearby. We couldn’t be without you.”
Every morning he wakes up to see everything still in its place, his head aching with unshed tears, his phone lying silent and mocking on the bedside table.
By the time he begins to look forward to the dreams, the taste of Dean already teasing his tongue, they stop coming.
----------------
The sharp sound cuts through his dark and disjointed dream, rousing him to a semiconscious state of anger and frustration. His body is exhausted after slumping over the books all day, his head pounding with answers to questions that probably won’t even come up. The test starts in three hours and his watch tells him he’s only been sleeping for two. Half of his grade and he’s about to flunk it on account of exhaustion and some drunken idiot calling him in the middle of the night.
He snaps the phone open, his voice hoarse and disgruntled. “What?”
“Sa-ammy?” Hitched breath, shallow gasps of pain and desperation. “Sorry. Sorry. Just wanted… Just wanted to tell you-”
The voice cuts off, swallowed by a pained grunt.
He’s sitting up in bed, reaching for his jeans before he has time to think of what he’s doing. “Dean, where are you?”
The rough laughter stabs him in the gut. “Too… too far away. Think this is it, bro. Just… take care of yourself, ok?”
“Dean, cut the crap and tell me where you are.”
He scribbles down the directions, pinning the phone between his shoulder and ear while he pulls on his sneakers. “I’ll be there in two hours. Think you can hold on?”
“Don’t… don’t know, man. Fuck. Sammy…”
Jacket. Wasting precious time but it’s raining and a cold brain works slower. “Stay with me, Dean.” Out the door and across the hall, picking the lock to Sean St. Lyndon’s room. “Talk to me. Where’s dad?”
“Somewhere… Can’t remember. He’s no-not answering.”
Dean’s words are becoming more and more slurred and Sam curses under his breath. He slips Sean’s car keys into his pocket and slips out the door.
“Dean, stay awake.” Down the stairs and out into the parking lot. Pretty BMW. It better live up to its name. “How bad is it?”
There’s just harsh breathing and for a moment Sam thinks he’s lost him.
“Dean? Dean!”
He waits with the key in the ignition, afraid if he starts the car he’ll miss his brother’s last breath.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m… Fuck, Sam. There’s so much blood.” Dean laughs again, a sound that turns into a pained grunt. “Jesus, Sammy.”
“Ok, ok.” He starts the car and pulls out. Fifteen minutes to the interstate. “You’ve got to stop the bleeding somehow.”
“I know. I’m… I’m not stupid. I…”
Dean gasps so loud, Sam’s fingers curl in fear. “Dean?”
“Yeah. Just… trying to take my jacket off. Fuck.”
The phone falls silent and then a loud scream pierces Sam’s eardrum. “Dean!!”
There’s silence for the longest time, all he can hear is his own ragged breathing, and then finally there’s a loud gasp, air being sucked into burning lungs. Thank you, God. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.
“Dean? You all right?”
“Sammy…” It’s barely a whisper and Sam clutches the phone to his ear. “My Sammy. Love you, bro.”
“I’m coming. Hang in there, Dean. Don’t… don’t you die on me.” The headlights sweep the road as the car swerves slightly and he blinks his eyes clear, tightening his hold on the steering wheel. “I’m breaking the fucking sound barrier here. Speed of light, Dean. If it’s all in vain I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“I’m hanging… I’m hanging in there, Sam.”
Each breath is obviously labored, air hardly making it to the lungs before it’s slipping out again. Sam can feel it, just as easily as if it’s him on the end of the line, fighting for his life, and soon his own breathing is matching the one echoing in his ear, making his head feel light with the lack of oxygen.
“Sammy?”
“Yeah.” He swallows, his throat almost too dry to speak. “Yeah, Dean.”
“Say it.” The breaths are getting quicker, staccato intakes that offer no relief. “Can you…? Please.”
Sam swallows. “I’ll say it when I get there. You hear me? So you better still be alive.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay, Sammy.”
There’s silence, only interrupted by Dean’s ragged breathing and Sam’s heartbeat. Then the soft humming of Fade to Black starts vibrating in Sam’s ear.
He closes his eyes briefly before clenching his jaw and stepping his foot even harder on the accelerator. Love you too, Dean. Love you too.
----------------
It’s been a good day and the smile is still lingering on his lips as he runs up the stairs, three steps at a time. That girl, Jess, he’s definitely going somewhere with her. She smiles at him, all the time, and in a way that he can tell she means it. They’re meeting up later tonight, for coffee, and he wonders if it’s a real date or just… coffee. Either way it makes him smile.
He can smell it before he sees it. The old world, intruding on his new one. They don’t fit, no more than he ever fit… well, anywhere. The smile slips from his lips and he turns the key apprehensively in the lock.
Dean is sitting on his bed and he looks up as the door opens, smiling. “Hey there, little brother.”
He looks calm, self-confident, the way he always does, but there’s a strange flicker in his eyes that has Sam pausing.
“Hey.” He closes the door slowly behind him and leans against it, faking coolness as he’s trying to figure out what’s off. “What are you doing here?”
Dean’s smile falters and his eyes turn sullen, but it’s too late. Whatever is hiding behind that façade, Sam’s already had a glance of it and it makes him frown in confusion.
“Can’t I come visit my little brother? Haven’t seen or heard from you in almost two years, Sam. Haven’t…”
Dean stops and looks away, shaking his head as his lips go thin with anger. “Forget it. Don’t know why I bothered.” He stands up but he doesn’t move to the door. Just stands still, studying the carpet.
After a moments silence Sam pushes himself of the door and takes a step forward. “Why did you? I mean, now? After all this time, you suddenly decide to visit? I’m not buying that.”
“Fuck you, Sam.” Anger, but it’s quiet and…
Sam hears it now, genuine hurt in his brother’s voice, and it startles him. “Dean? What’s wrong? Is it… is it dad?”
“Would you care?”
That hits him. Like a punch in the gut. “What do you…? Of course I’d care. What’s wrong with you?”
Dean gives a shaky laugh. “Yeah. What’s wrong with me? I wish I knew. I wish…” He turns around abruptly, avoiding Sam’s eyes as he brushes past him and to the door. “This was a bad idea. Goodbye, Sam.”
Oh no, they’re not doing that. Not again.
He catches Dean by the arm and swings him around so his back slams into the door where Sam pins him in place, using the last four years of growing up to his full advantage. That Dean isn’t fighting back doesn’t register until he feels the rigid body relax in a whoosh of air brushing Sam’s neck.
“I’m sorry.” He backs off but only half a step, hand still clutching Dean’s arm. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m happy to see you. Just… surprised.”
He sighs as Dean refuses to look at him but at least he’s not pushing him away. “What’s going on? Dean, talk to me. You’re scaring the crap out of me.”
“You’re scared?”
Dean laughs again, a hollow sound that cuts Sam to the bone.
“You have no idea…” Dean stops. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here. I just…” He shivers slightly, breathing in hard through his nose. “I had to know.”
He looks up then and Sam can’t help it, he takes a step back, inhaling sharply at the raw and open look in Dean’s eyes. He’s not really…? He can’t be. “Dean?”
“Yeah. Exactly.” Dean smiles. It’s twisted and desperate and so lost Sam feels his whole world shatter. Dean’s eyes close briefly and he sucks in his breath before fixing Sam with his stare again. “Bet now you really wish I’d stayed away, eh, little brother? Dean the sicko.” He licks his lips but there’s nothing sexual in the act, just disgust. “Christ knows I do.”
He suddenly pushes Sam hard in the chest so he stumbles back, still staring at Dean with a shocked expression that he doesn’t want to carry but he’s frozen, unable to fight it.
“See you around, kiddo. Or not. You should call dad though. He misses you.”
Dean’s out the door and gone before Sam has time to react, before he can free his body from this prison lockdown of his brain. For what seems like forever he stands there, staring at the closed door and then suddenly his body jerks awake and he runs out the door and down the stairs. He can hear the familiar engine rumbling in the distance, the sound dying slowly away. Fuck. Without thinking he runs back up and grabs his bag, shoving what little he owns into it, zips it closed and then stands for a moment, breathing hard.
Here is Stanford and law school and normal and maybe even Jess. And out there are monsters and ghosts and Dean.
Out there is Dean.
Choosing to leave was the hardest thing he’d ever done. A choice he battled with for over a year before finally making his decision.
Choosing to go back only takes him about five seconds.
----------------
“It’s Dean.”
That’s all his father needs to say. Two words which tell him nothing and everything.
He doesn’t ask, just says, “I’m on my way. Where are you?”, notes down the directions and hotwires the first car he can find. For the three hours it takes to drive there he doesn’t think, doesn’t allow his imagination to get away with him. Just focuses on the road ahead, both hands on the steering wheel, the words “It’s Dean, it’s Dean, it’s Dean” running like a mantra through his head.
He gets there just in time to see his father walk out of the hospital room, closing the door quietly behind him. John looks up and they lock eyes. Sam doesn’t ask ‘what’ or ‘how’. He would ask ‘when’ but it doesn’t really matter.
Not anymore.
----------------
“I can’t do this alone.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Yeah. Well, I don’t want to.”
And this is as close to begging that Dean will get. It’s all there, in his eyes, in the hunching of his shoulders, in the almost inaudible break of his voice. He’s desperate and it suddenly hits Sam that Dean doesn’t expect Sam to give in and he’s already bracing himself for the rejection.
“Dean…”
“Whatever. Yeah. I’ll…”
“No. Dean… Do you want me to come?”
Dean glares at him, irritated. “That’s what I said, didn’t I?”
“No. Do you want me to come? After… everything.” He takes a deep breath and reaches out, laying his palm on the side of Dean’s neck. It’s warm and slightly damp with sweat and he can feel the vein pulsating under the thin skin. “Do you still want me with you?”
Dean stands still, his eyes averted, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. Sam’s heart pounds faster and faster in his chest and the fingers on his free hand curl into a fist. He’s not sure which potential answer scares him most.
Finally Dean looks up and nods. There’s vulnerability in his eyes, resigned fear that makes Sam hitch his breath.
“Yeah.” Dean’s voice is hoarse and he clears his throat before trying again. “Yeah, I do, Sammy. I know… I know you’ve got this gig and the girl, the girl is awesome, man. And I’m not being fair but you asked, Sammy, and… yeah.”
Sam sighs but his thumb is already running up to Dean’s ear, stroking the soft spot behind the earlobe. “It’s been four years, Dean. Did you expect…?”
“I didn’t expect anything, Sam. I don’t…” Dean looks away, clenching his jaw. “I never expected anything of you. You wanted to go and I let you go. That’s all.”
“You could have called. Could have visited.”
“Yeah?” Dean growls, swatting Sam’s hand suddenly away in irritation. “Well, so could you, Sam.”
Sam's arm falls to his side and he stand still, breathing slowly to get his feelings under control. “Dad told me to stay gone and so I did.”
Dean just glares at him, taking a step back in anger. “Fuck you, Sam. You wanna blame dad? Blame dad. But what it comes down to is that you left. You walked out that door four years ago and never even looked back. That’s how much it all meant to you.”
Sam blinks, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “What? Dean, no. I never left you. It wasn’t… I… God, Dean. No.”
Dean just shakes his head and then he turns away, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “Forget it. Have a nice life, Sam.”
Sam’s got Dean slammed up against the car door before he even has his hand on the handle, one hand fisting Dean’s t-shirt while the other grabs the back of his head and then he’s kissing him. It’s hard and brutal and Sam can feel his lip splitting, flecking his tongue with the taste of copper. Dean’s hands are pushing at his chest but he doesn’t budge, just pins Dean’s body against the car and holds his head trapped within the palm of his hand. Dean’s lips are hard, his whole body stiff with resistance.
And then, just like that, he relents. His lips soften and open up, allowing Sam to slip his tongue inside and then every muscle seems to slacken, molding him into the perfect fit between the Impala and Sam’s body. His hands shake as they flatten on Sam’s chest, one palm resting over his heart as the other runs down to slip under the hem of Sam’s t-shirt. Dean’s warm and so right, his thumb fitting into the curve of Sam’s hipbone like it was made for him. Sam can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine or the soft sigh that Dean sucks right out of his mouth.
The kiss softens and deepens and Sam’s fingers relax, both hands moving to cup Dean’s face like Dean used to hold his all those years ago. Enveloping that pretty head with his long fingers like the bars of a prison cell, as if to make sure Dean stays right there. Dean’s right hand slides up Sam’s chest and around his neck, fingers slipping into Sam’s hair, while the other goes around his waist and dips beneath the waistband of his loose jeans. Thumb staying on the last protruding knob of Sam’s spine and the rest of the fingers spreading, covering as much skin as they can.
They stay that way. Just holding on while they kiss back four years of separation and hurt. Somewhere in the back of Sam’s mind is the notion that there is something he needs to do, someone… But then Dean moans into his mouth and there’s just Dean and nothing else in his world. Just DeanDeanDean and his mouth and his tongue and the warm hardness of his cock pressing against Sam’s thigh through too many layers of clothing.
The sound of a door slamming penetrates the loudness of blood pounding in his ears but he doesn’t wonder, doesn’t care. Because he’s finally here, and they’re finally here and… God, oh God. Yes, Dean, yes. I’ll come, of course I’ll come. Wherever you want to take me. Wherever. Yes, yes, yes.
fin
Title: Five Times Sam left Stanford for Dean.
Author: felisblanco
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters, pairing: Sam, Dean, John, Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 to be on the safe side
Warning: Angst, Wincest (duh) and, in one of them, character death.
A/N: Some of these could probably fit together in the same verse but they are written as separate stories. Unbeta'd.
The first week at college, Sam packs his bags every night and then calls Dean, asking him to come pick him up and bring him back home. Dean doesn’t snort or huff, just shows up incredibly fast, almost before Sam has time to hang up. They hold each other tight, Sam whispering “Sorry” and “Not you, I never wanted to leave you” as Dean rubs his back soothingly, before grabbing Sam by the neck and pulling him down for a kiss.
They drive home in the dark, Dean’s hand resting on Sam’s thigh, Sam’s fingers rubbing Dean’s earlobe. Once there, Dean steps aside while their dad gives Sam a hug and welcomes him back home. “It’s ok, son. We’ll work this out somehow. Of course you can go to college. We’ll find a place to stay nearby. We couldn’t be without you.”
Every morning he wakes up to see everything still in its place, his head aching with unshed tears, his phone lying silent and mocking on the bedside table.
By the time he begins to look forward to the dreams, the taste of Dean already teasing his tongue, they stop coming.
----------------
The sharp sound cuts through his dark and disjointed dream, rousing him to a semiconscious state of anger and frustration. His body is exhausted after slumping over the books all day, his head pounding with answers to questions that probably won’t even come up. The test starts in three hours and his watch tells him he’s only been sleeping for two. Half of his grade and he’s about to flunk it on account of exhaustion and some drunken idiot calling him in the middle of the night.
He snaps the phone open, his voice hoarse and disgruntled. “What?”
“Sa-ammy?” Hitched breath, shallow gasps of pain and desperation. “Sorry. Sorry. Just wanted… Just wanted to tell you-”
The voice cuts off, swallowed by a pained grunt.
He’s sitting up in bed, reaching for his jeans before he has time to think of what he’s doing. “Dean, where are you?”
The rough laughter stabs him in the gut. “Too… too far away. Think this is it, bro. Just… take care of yourself, ok?”
“Dean, cut the crap and tell me where you are.”
He scribbles down the directions, pinning the phone between his shoulder and ear while he pulls on his sneakers. “I’ll be there in two hours. Think you can hold on?”
“Don’t… don’t know, man. Fuck. Sammy…”
Jacket. Wasting precious time but it’s raining and a cold brain works slower. “Stay with me, Dean.” Out the door and across the hall, picking the lock to Sean St. Lyndon’s room. “Talk to me. Where’s dad?”
“Somewhere… Can’t remember. He’s no-not answering.”
Dean’s words are becoming more and more slurred and Sam curses under his breath. He slips Sean’s car keys into his pocket and slips out the door.
“Dean, stay awake.” Down the stairs and out into the parking lot. Pretty BMW. It better live up to its name. “How bad is it?”
There’s just harsh breathing and for a moment Sam thinks he’s lost him.
“Dean? Dean!”
He waits with the key in the ignition, afraid if he starts the car he’ll miss his brother’s last breath.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m… Fuck, Sam. There’s so much blood.” Dean laughs again, a sound that turns into a pained grunt. “Jesus, Sammy.”
“Ok, ok.” He starts the car and pulls out. Fifteen minutes to the interstate. “You’ve got to stop the bleeding somehow.”
“I know. I’m… I’m not stupid. I…”
Dean gasps so loud, Sam’s fingers curl in fear. “Dean?”
“Yeah. Just… trying to take my jacket off. Fuck.”
The phone falls silent and then a loud scream pierces Sam’s eardrum. “Dean!!”
There’s silence for the longest time, all he can hear is his own ragged breathing, and then finally there’s a loud gasp, air being sucked into burning lungs. Thank you, God. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.
“Dean? You all right?”
“Sammy…” It’s barely a whisper and Sam clutches the phone to his ear. “My Sammy. Love you, bro.”
“I’m coming. Hang in there, Dean. Don’t… don’t you die on me.” The headlights sweep the road as the car swerves slightly and he blinks his eyes clear, tightening his hold on the steering wheel. “I’m breaking the fucking sound barrier here. Speed of light, Dean. If it’s all in vain I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“I’m hanging… I’m hanging in there, Sam.”
Each breath is obviously labored, air hardly making it to the lungs before it’s slipping out again. Sam can feel it, just as easily as if it’s him on the end of the line, fighting for his life, and soon his own breathing is matching the one echoing in his ear, making his head feel light with the lack of oxygen.
“Sammy?”
“Yeah.” He swallows, his throat almost too dry to speak. “Yeah, Dean.”
“Say it.” The breaths are getting quicker, staccato intakes that offer no relief. “Can you…? Please.”
Sam swallows. “I’ll say it when I get there. You hear me? So you better still be alive.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay, Sammy.”
There’s silence, only interrupted by Dean’s ragged breathing and Sam’s heartbeat. Then the soft humming of Fade to Black starts vibrating in Sam’s ear.
He closes his eyes briefly before clenching his jaw and stepping his foot even harder on the accelerator. Love you too, Dean. Love you too.
----------------
It’s been a good day and the smile is still lingering on his lips as he runs up the stairs, three steps at a time. That girl, Jess, he’s definitely going somewhere with her. She smiles at him, all the time, and in a way that he can tell she means it. They’re meeting up later tonight, for coffee, and he wonders if it’s a real date or just… coffee. Either way it makes him smile.
He can smell it before he sees it. The old world, intruding on his new one. They don’t fit, no more than he ever fit… well, anywhere. The smile slips from his lips and he turns the key apprehensively in the lock.
Dean is sitting on his bed and he looks up as the door opens, smiling. “Hey there, little brother.”
He looks calm, self-confident, the way he always does, but there’s a strange flicker in his eyes that has Sam pausing.
“Hey.” He closes the door slowly behind him and leans against it, faking coolness as he’s trying to figure out what’s off. “What are you doing here?”
Dean’s smile falters and his eyes turn sullen, but it’s too late. Whatever is hiding behind that façade, Sam’s already had a glance of it and it makes him frown in confusion.
“Can’t I come visit my little brother? Haven’t seen or heard from you in almost two years, Sam. Haven’t…”
Dean stops and looks away, shaking his head as his lips go thin with anger. “Forget it. Don’t know why I bothered.” He stands up but he doesn’t move to the door. Just stands still, studying the carpet.
After a moments silence Sam pushes himself of the door and takes a step forward. “Why did you? I mean, now? After all this time, you suddenly decide to visit? I’m not buying that.”
“Fuck you, Sam.” Anger, but it’s quiet and…
Sam hears it now, genuine hurt in his brother’s voice, and it startles him. “Dean? What’s wrong? Is it… is it dad?”
“Would you care?”
That hits him. Like a punch in the gut. “What do you…? Of course I’d care. What’s wrong with you?”
Dean gives a shaky laugh. “Yeah. What’s wrong with me? I wish I knew. I wish…” He turns around abruptly, avoiding Sam’s eyes as he brushes past him and to the door. “This was a bad idea. Goodbye, Sam.”
Oh no, they’re not doing that. Not again.
He catches Dean by the arm and swings him around so his back slams into the door where Sam pins him in place, using the last four years of growing up to his full advantage. That Dean isn’t fighting back doesn’t register until he feels the rigid body relax in a whoosh of air brushing Sam’s neck.
“I’m sorry.” He backs off but only half a step, hand still clutching Dean’s arm. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m happy to see you. Just… surprised.”
He sighs as Dean refuses to look at him but at least he’s not pushing him away. “What’s going on? Dean, talk to me. You’re scaring the crap out of me.”
“You’re scared?”
Dean laughs again, a hollow sound that cuts Sam to the bone.
“You have no idea…” Dean stops. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here. I just…” He shivers slightly, breathing in hard through his nose. “I had to know.”
He looks up then and Sam can’t help it, he takes a step back, inhaling sharply at the raw and open look in Dean’s eyes. He’s not really…? He can’t be. “Dean?”
“Yeah. Exactly.” Dean smiles. It’s twisted and desperate and so lost Sam feels his whole world shatter. Dean’s eyes close briefly and he sucks in his breath before fixing Sam with his stare again. “Bet now you really wish I’d stayed away, eh, little brother? Dean the sicko.” He licks his lips but there’s nothing sexual in the act, just disgust. “Christ knows I do.”
He suddenly pushes Sam hard in the chest so he stumbles back, still staring at Dean with a shocked expression that he doesn’t want to carry but he’s frozen, unable to fight it.
“See you around, kiddo. Or not. You should call dad though. He misses you.”
Dean’s out the door and gone before Sam has time to react, before he can free his body from this prison lockdown of his brain. For what seems like forever he stands there, staring at the closed door and then suddenly his body jerks awake and he runs out the door and down the stairs. He can hear the familiar engine rumbling in the distance, the sound dying slowly away. Fuck. Without thinking he runs back up and grabs his bag, shoving what little he owns into it, zips it closed and then stands for a moment, breathing hard.
Here is Stanford and law school and normal and maybe even Jess. And out there are monsters and ghosts and Dean.
Out there is Dean.
Choosing to leave was the hardest thing he’d ever done. A choice he battled with for over a year before finally making his decision.
Choosing to go back only takes him about five seconds.
----------------
“It’s Dean.”
That’s all his father needs to say. Two words which tell him nothing and everything.
He doesn’t ask, just says, “I’m on my way. Where are you?”, notes down the directions and hotwires the first car he can find. For the three hours it takes to drive there he doesn’t think, doesn’t allow his imagination to get away with him. Just focuses on the road ahead, both hands on the steering wheel, the words “It’s Dean, it’s Dean, it’s Dean” running like a mantra through his head.
He gets there just in time to see his father walk out of the hospital room, closing the door quietly behind him. John looks up and they lock eyes. Sam doesn’t ask ‘what’ or ‘how’. He would ask ‘when’ but it doesn’t really matter.
Not anymore.
----------------
“I can’t do this alone.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Yeah. Well, I don’t want to.”
And this is as close to begging that Dean will get. It’s all there, in his eyes, in the hunching of his shoulders, in the almost inaudible break of his voice. He’s desperate and it suddenly hits Sam that Dean doesn’t expect Sam to give in and he’s already bracing himself for the rejection.
“Dean…”
“Whatever. Yeah. I’ll…”
“No. Dean… Do you want me to come?”
Dean glares at him, irritated. “That’s what I said, didn’t I?”
“No. Do you want me to come? After… everything.” He takes a deep breath and reaches out, laying his palm on the side of Dean’s neck. It’s warm and slightly damp with sweat and he can feel the vein pulsating under the thin skin. “Do you still want me with you?”
Dean stands still, his eyes averted, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. Sam’s heart pounds faster and faster in his chest and the fingers on his free hand curl into a fist. He’s not sure which potential answer scares him most.
Finally Dean looks up and nods. There’s vulnerability in his eyes, resigned fear that makes Sam hitch his breath.
“Yeah.” Dean’s voice is hoarse and he clears his throat before trying again. “Yeah, I do, Sammy. I know… I know you’ve got this gig and the girl, the girl is awesome, man. And I’m not being fair but you asked, Sammy, and… yeah.”
Sam sighs but his thumb is already running up to Dean’s ear, stroking the soft spot behind the earlobe. “It’s been four years, Dean. Did you expect…?”
“I didn’t expect anything, Sam. I don’t…” Dean looks away, clenching his jaw. “I never expected anything of you. You wanted to go and I let you go. That’s all.”
“You could have called. Could have visited.”
“Yeah?” Dean growls, swatting Sam’s hand suddenly away in irritation. “Well, so could you, Sam.”
Sam's arm falls to his side and he stand still, breathing slowly to get his feelings under control. “Dad told me to stay gone and so I did.”
Dean just glares at him, taking a step back in anger. “Fuck you, Sam. You wanna blame dad? Blame dad. But what it comes down to is that you left. You walked out that door four years ago and never even looked back. That’s how much it all meant to you.”
Sam blinks, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “What? Dean, no. I never left you. It wasn’t… I… God, Dean. No.”
Dean just shakes his head and then he turns away, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “Forget it. Have a nice life, Sam.”
Sam’s got Dean slammed up against the car door before he even has his hand on the handle, one hand fisting Dean’s t-shirt while the other grabs the back of his head and then he’s kissing him. It’s hard and brutal and Sam can feel his lip splitting, flecking his tongue with the taste of copper. Dean’s hands are pushing at his chest but he doesn’t budge, just pins Dean’s body against the car and holds his head trapped within the palm of his hand. Dean’s lips are hard, his whole body stiff with resistance.
And then, just like that, he relents. His lips soften and open up, allowing Sam to slip his tongue inside and then every muscle seems to slacken, molding him into the perfect fit between the Impala and Sam’s body. His hands shake as they flatten on Sam’s chest, one palm resting over his heart as the other runs down to slip under the hem of Sam’s t-shirt. Dean’s warm and so right, his thumb fitting into the curve of Sam’s hipbone like it was made for him. Sam can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine or the soft sigh that Dean sucks right out of his mouth.
The kiss softens and deepens and Sam’s fingers relax, both hands moving to cup Dean’s face like Dean used to hold his all those years ago. Enveloping that pretty head with his long fingers like the bars of a prison cell, as if to make sure Dean stays right there. Dean’s right hand slides up Sam’s chest and around his neck, fingers slipping into Sam’s hair, while the other goes around his waist and dips beneath the waistband of his loose jeans. Thumb staying on the last protruding knob of Sam’s spine and the rest of the fingers spreading, covering as much skin as they can.
They stay that way. Just holding on while they kiss back four years of separation and hurt. Somewhere in the back of Sam’s mind is the notion that there is something he needs to do, someone… But then Dean moans into his mouth and there’s just Dean and nothing else in his world. Just DeanDeanDean and his mouth and his tongue and the warm hardness of his cock pressing against Sam’s thigh through too many layers of clothing.
The sound of a door slamming penetrates the loudness of blood pounding in his ears but he doesn’t wonder, doesn’t care. Because he’s finally here, and they’re finally here and… God, oh God. Yes, Dean, yes. I’ll come, of course I’ll come. Wherever you want to take me. Wherever. Yes, yes, yes.
fin