Supernatural: And All Was Said
Title: And All Was Said
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John, a very nasty monster-of-the-week
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Angst, Schmoop-we’ve got it all, folks.
Rating: NC-17 for Explicit Sexual Content, Weecest (Sam is 16), and Language
Word Count: 6,706
Author’s Note: Written for cacklesthewitch for help_haiti. Hope this is what you had in mind, darling, and that you really enjoy this story! I tried to incorporate most of your prompts/kinks, most prominently the clothes swapping (though I messed around with that one a little) and excessively protective Boys. I didn’t intend for this to be so porny, but hopefully it also has a little emotional appeal as well, lol. Beta’d by wutendeskind. Title stolen from my BFF, Victor Hugo. There is a companion piece to this story that is set before it, though both stories stand alone. It can be found here. ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eosrose, you can read this story and its prequel in epub format here.
Summary: Dean finally gives in after months of trying to resist Sam, but when Dean goes on a hunt with John and leaves Sam behind, things go terribly wrong.
IF YOU WANT TO READ IT (it's not necessary to understand what's going on at all), THE COMPANION PIECE SET ONE YEAR PRIOR TO THIS STORY CAN BE FOUND HERE.
It’s been a long time since Sam’s been this upset. Whiny teenage brat though he is, there’s a difference between slamming doors and back talking Dad and this. Sam knows how to hide when he’s really hurting, he learned from the best. But that’s Dean’s way and Sam was never comfortable with it. Maybe this time he lets himself fall apart because Dad is gone and he knows Dean won’t mock him. Maybe he’s just in more pain than he’s been in for a while. Dean doesn’t know why. All he knows is that he’ll die if he has to spend another day seeing Sam like this. Trying to help cheer him up. Failing.
Sam has a broken heart. It’s the first time for Sam, or at least the first time a girl does it. Some sick part of Dean almost envies his brother for it. It’s a normal thing to be heartbroken over, but Dean will never experience it. He’ll never care about a girl that much-he’s too screwed up-and the one person he could Love…well, he can’t really think about that.
“Sammy,” Dean tries to pull Sam up, take him in his arms like he used to when Sam was a kid, small enough to hold and nothing dangerous about it. It’s dangerous now, but Dean doesn’t know what else to do. He has to do something.
Sam shoves him away; Dean thinks it hurts more than any hunt he’s ever been injured on.
“Go away, Dean.”
“Sam, I just want to help.”
“Yeah, well you’re not going to.”
He releases Sam immediately, doesn’t let how much that stung him play out on his face.
“I’ll go make dinner.”
“I liked her, Dean,” Sam says as Dean’s trying to leave the room and he immediately turns back and sits on the bed next to his brother. It’s the most he’s been willing to say about it since he got home from school yesterday crying.
Dean didn’t even believe him at first. What girl could possibly be that stupid? Who would have Sam and let him go? Sam’s too smart to fall for a girl like that. But it is real, Sam really is hurting, and Dean is simultaneously furious with the girl for letting Sam go and, ugly though it may be, relieved that she’s out of the picture. No more hogging Sam, no more having to wonder just how much of his little brother she’s getting. Dean has no right to Sam, but in his head, Sam’s still his, always will be.
“I liked her so much that sometimes I could forget about…” Sam licks his lips and looks at Dean. “I guess that’s why she dumped me. She knew she wouldn’t ever be…you could help me, Dean. But I know you’re not going to. So don’t touch me, don’t take care of me. You’re only going to make it worse. I’d rather hurt about her than want you more than I already do.”
Sam’s words are like a punch in the gut. You could help me, but you won’t. Dean had tried so hard to convince Sam he didn’t want him, but Sam wasn’t fooled for a second. It hadn’t been fair, having to tell Sam the truth and still fight off his advances. Sam isn’t the kind to let it go, to not use it against him. So Sam looks him in the eye, accusing, knowing they both want it and blaming Dean for what he has to do. It’s his job not to give in. Sam doesn’t try to understand that. He doesn’t bother to hide how disappointed he is in Dean, how complete his conviction that Dean will let him down is. Dean’s let him down before, for a year he’s been letting them both down.
He had a good reason to do it. He doesn’t even remember what it was anymore. Something about brothers. Something about wrong. He can’t make the connection right now. It doesn’t feel wrong. Wrong is that look in Sam’s eyes, that lack of faith and the unwavering sadness in his expression. Dean can’t help remembering the Sam he fell in Love with a year ago, the smile that had so much trust and unqualified happiness as he pulled Dean into that pool despite Dean’s protests. Dean had spent the entire day trying not to throw up, trying to stop thinking what he ended up spending the entire next year thinking. But all that shame he’s been holding on to is as absent now as Sam’s easy contentment.
“Sam-“
“I know what you’re going to say, okay? Don’t fucking both-”
Dean’s fingers run lightly across Sam’s cheek and he leans in, desperate for the kiss and the smile he needs to follow it. He pulls away quickly; almost terrified it won’t be there, that this wasn’t going to be enough. Too little, too late. But Sam’s dimples are all Dean can see for a few moments-it’s fucking gorgeous and completely blinding.
“You can’t do this and take it back,” Sam says, bossy and taking Dean’s obedience for granted. Dean couldn’t stop now if he wanted to, so he just nods into another kiss. Sam’s smiling again by the time their mouths join.
Sam doesn’t waste time, moves his lips to Dean’s neck and-Dean nearly dies at the realization-Sam’s big hand is working its way up his thigh and he’s not going to stop when he runs out of leg. Dean groans, his legs coming apart easily and his only conscious thought is that denim is much too thick. He needs to feel Sam; he needs to feel Sam immediately. And he will, in just a few moments. Long fingers curl in his zipper.
They stop in an instant. Their eyes lock and they both know that the other is recognizing the sound, that it wasn’t just some paranoid hallucination. Dean can identify the hum of his Dad’s truck from a mile away. He’s just never been disappointed to hear it before.
“Fuck!” Sam stands up and looks out the window, gives the wall a frustrated kick before he turns back to Dean. “Now? He gets home now?”
Dean’s still too lightheaded to respond. He’s staring at Sam, Sam who is hard in his jeans, and he can’t muster up any intelligent thought, just reaches out to touch before he remembers why they stopped to begin with.
It’s obviously a sign. The universe is trying to do him a favor, intervene before he actually lets his little brother fuck him. The universe, Dean decides, should really mind its own fucking business.
Sam flops down on his bed and gets under the covers to hide what Dean should really stop staring at if he doesn’t want to have to deal with the same situation. Dean turns the TV on and lies back. By the time the keys are sliding into the lock, Sam and Dean look exactly the way they always do when their father gets home from a hunt.
John comes in and shakes the room up immediately: radiating frustration, slamming the door, putting his things down too loudly. He doesn’t say anything to Sam and Dean, no greeting, not even a nod of acknowledgement. He’s covered in dirt and blood and Dean knows how the hunt went, so he doesn’t ask.
Dean turns the TV off, sits up and waits for instructions. It’s been too long since they went on a hunt with their father, and he’s felt this coming for days.
“Pack. We’re going back tomorrow and finishing this.”
Dean nods. Sam takes the chance to vent his annoyance. Dean doesn’t know how he does it. John is terrifying right now.
“I can’t. I have a test on Monday. I’m not missing my test.”
Dean waits for the fight. John’s verbal lashing and Sam’s attempts to shout over it. Dean’s been listening to it for months, a song he can’t skip over no matter how much he wants to. The fight doesn’t come. John’s response is even more unsettling.
“Of course not, Sam. You can stay. Take your test. Your brother’s coming with me.”
The way he says it, an ironic little smile when he tells Sam he’s separating them. Dean worries. He’s imagining it, he tells himself, Dad can’t know. They covered their tracks perfectly-it’s something they’re good at…but Dad’s always better. But if John knew, he’d be furious. He’d never be this calm about it-Dean is just being paranoid. Still, he shifts uncomfortably and looks over at Sam, tries to read his brother’s expression. Sam looks pleased, if a little shocked, and when he meets Dean’s gaze, there’s no worry there. There’s regret, a hungry look that makes Dean wonder how he’ll get through an entire hunt without his little brother’s touch, how he ever did it before.
The rest of the night is as awkward as it should be. Dean can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, so he gives up trying to figure it out.
Dad wakes him early the next morning, it’s still dark outside. He looks over at his brother safe and asleep-Dean can’t help the little smile on his lips. Sam’s lying on his side facing Dean’s bed, mouth slightly open, comfortable like Sam deserves to be. It’s usually his job to wake him now, but Dean just pulls the covers back over Sam where they’ve shifted in the night. He likes this, not having to disturb Sam, knowing he won’t have to worry about him on the hunt. Dean wishes it could always be this easy.
John tells Dean to be ready when he gets back from picking up more salt, so Dean showers quickly. He doesn’t hear the door open-it takes a lot to sneak up on Dean Winchester. When he pushes the curtain aside and grabs his towel, Sam’s eyes are watching him from the other side of the bathroom. He doesn’t look away politely, he stares at Dean and Dean’s attempt to cover up just makes Sam smirk.
“You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“Wanted to say goodbye.”
“That couldn’t wait for me to finish getting dressed?”
“Not the kind of goodbye I intended.”
Sam approaches Dean in a few charged strides and pushes him against the wall so fast, Dean slams against it and it hurts. He moans, but it isn’t because of the pain, and Sam can tell the difference, pins Dean there and doesn’t let up. Dean only pretends to fight to feel his brother not give in-he’s strong for sixteen, stronger than Dean ever thought the kid he used to baby would be. Sam’s lips follow the water drops moving down Dean’s skin, tracing the curve of Dean’s jaw with little bites. He grabs at the towel wrapped around Dean’s hips, tosses it to the floor in seconds, and wraps his hand around Dean’s cock.
“Sam, I. I’m in a rush. Dad could be home any second, you know that.”
“Mmm, have to touch you, Dean. Can’t let you go until…” Sam pulls away and looks down. “I wanna taste you, too. I want so much. You’re just gonna have to give it to me quickly.”
Sam whispers the last bit against Dean’s neck and Dean knows he shouldn’t let Sam mark him there, Dad could see it and he’s the one person Dean can’t lie to. But Dean also knows he’ll wake up tomorrow missing his brother, and he wants to see the proof of this in the mirror. When Sam tries to break away, Dean just pushes him back down and Sam’s lips become even more insistent than before.
“Sammy, oh God.” Dean thrusts faster into Sam’s hand and Sam stops, pulls his entire body away. Dean feels cold air hit his wet skin, he grabs at Sam, tries to get the comfort of Sam’s body pressing into him again, but Sam shakes his head.
“He’s not taking you from me and leaving me empty handed,” Sam says roughly. “I’m not waiting any longer for this. I’ve been waiting for years.”
With that, Sam sinks to his knees and Dean would fall over if Sam weren’t still holding him in place.
“Sam, fuck.”
Dean looks to the door and tells himself he should make a break for it. Get dressed and not risk getting caught like this. He looks back down and Sam’s watching him closely. Doubting him again, as if he can read his brother’s thoughts.
“Fucking do it already,” Dean half-growls.
Sam’s mouth opens around Dean and, it doesn’t matter that he’s obviously never done this before, probably hasn’t had it done to him too many times. Sam doesn’t need to know what he’s doing. Just feeling lips and knowing they’re Sam’s-actually Sam’s and not just some replacement-it’s the best head Dean’s ever had and Sam hasn’t even started yet.
As soon as Dean’s fingers curl in Sam’s hair, Sam gives in, lets Dean guide him with needy tugs and thrusts. Sam wasn’t kidding about wanting Dean to finish fast, so he lets Dean have his way. When Dean’s head falls back, smacking hard against the wall and too blissed out to even care, Sam tries to swallow everything Dean gives him.
Sam coughs, once, twice, and Dean is about to worry, ask if Sam is okay, when Sam stands up. Dean can see the come Sam couldn’t swallow coating his lips, and then Sam pushes up to Dean and kisses him-the same needy desperation but softer, violent and tender at the same time. Sam cradles Dean’s face in his big hands and Dean can taste Sam’s minty toothpaste and the bitter unfamiliar flavor of his own come. It’s not something Dean ever thought he’d want to taste, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it.
Sam presses up even closer; Dean can feel how hard he is through his thin pajama bottoms. Sam’s clothes are soaked from Dean’s shower and the thought that Sam’s been that close to him almost has Dean coming all over again.
“Fuck, I wish we could do this right,” Sam whines, pulling away from the kiss for a few seconds before Dean presses forward again, following the strands of come dangling between their mouths. Sam kisses him back for a moment and then he flips Dean around with no warning, so Dean’s face and body are pressed flush against the wall and Sam pushes against him.
“Wanna fuck you. Really fuck you.” Sam’s fingers dig into Dean’s thighs as he holds Dean’s legs apart and Sam begins to thrust in between them, rubbing his cock against Dean’s legs, seeking desperately for enough friction through his clothes.
All Dean can manage is a broken moan. “Sammy.”
Sam seems to understand what it means, his lips return to the spot he already sucked into Dean’s neck and Dean can’t think of anything hotter than the purple bruise that’ll stand out against his skin while he’s away on the hunt. He tries to push back into his brother, somehow give him the pressure he needs to get off, and Sam freezes up. His cry is muffled against Dean’s skin, but Dean feels the vibrations of it and thrills at what they mean.
“I Love you.”
Sam whispers it right into Dean’s ear and holds him for a few more seconds before taking a step back. Dean turns to face Sam, wondering if he’s supposed to say it, too. But Sam just smiles at him and looks down sheepishly.
“Wow, jizz in your pajama bottoms. You really are sixteen.”
“Shut up,” Sam says through a laugh. Then he looks at Dean closely for a few more seconds before he picks up the abandoned towel and pushes it into Dean’s chest. “You better get ready or Dad’ll kick your ass. And then I’ll have to defend your honor or something.”
“You aren’t even half as cute as you think you are.”
“That so?”
Dean doesn’t reply. He won’t lie and he won’t stroke his brother’s ego, so he just stands there wondering what the come sliding down Sam’s leg tastes like. It should wait for another day, Dean really should get ready, but Dean’s mostly thrown wise decisions to the wind at this point.
“Sammy, I want…” Dean touches Sam and Sam’s breath hitches.
“I know what you want.” He reaches down, pushes below the elastic band holding his pants up and when he pulls his hand back out, it’s covered in slick. Sam licks his lips and watches Dean intently as he licks a stray drop off his palm.
“God, Sam, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”
Sam smiles and offers a few fingers to Dean. Dean sucks them into his mouth greedily, closes his eyes and imagines how much better it’ll be when he really has Sam in his mouth, moaning and writhing under him like he’s dying from it.
“You. Need to go. Get dressed. Before I can’t fucking hold back any more.”
“Mmm,” Dean responds, refusing to stop until Sam’s hand is clean. Clean of come, at least.
Sam opens the bathroom door with his other hand and ushers Dean out. Dean goes, finally satisfied and ready to let Sam out of his sight. Sam stays in the bathroom a few minutes longer, washing his hand and collecting himself.
Dean is dressed and ready to go by the time Sam crosses back into the common room and Dean tosses a clean pair of bottoms in his face. Sam just snorts and changes right in front of Dean. The last of their attempts at personal space probably disappeared about the time Sam had Dean’s cock down his throat, but Dean’s still stupidly giddy over what it implies.
“I’ll miss you,” Sam says, sitting on Dean’s bed and looking up at his brother. Dean wraps one hand around Sam’s neck and is about to bend down for a kiss when they hear their Dad’s approach.
“How does he always know?” Sam jokes. Dean shakes his head and ruffles his little brother’s hair.
Dad opens the door and Dean picks up his bag to go.
“I’ll see you in a few days, kiddo,” Dean says, with an intimate wink at Sam before he turns to face his father.
“Dean, come on,” John snaps, clearly still sore over his failed hunt. For once, Dean doesn’t really mind that his father’s annoyed with him. He just wants to go, get the hunt over with, and come back to Sam.
_______________________________________________________________
Dean follows his Dad in the Impala for about four hours before he gets the signal to pull into the next motel. Dean checks out a room for two nights and by the time he gets to it, Dad’s already spreading things out on the table, taking out guns-John Winchester doesn’t respond well to failure.
They spend the first day checking up on facts, getting Dean acquainted with the job. Dad’s already done most of the leg work, which means Dean gets to skip the part he hates and go straight to the kill. It’s a ghost hunt, which is why John thought he could handle it alone, but it’s a whole damn cemetery-some kind of voodoo that Dean can’t trace to this redneck town is keeping the bones awake and bitter.
They get back early, maybe 7 p.m., and they order pizza and have a few beers while watching a game. It’s an oddly nice day, but they’re both pretty tired from the drive and Dean decides to turn in early. John nods absently as Dean leaves the room; it’s obvious he’ll be obsessing over the facts of the case until the early morning hours and Dean is just glad this motel has the beds sectioned off from the living area. He’s never been able to sleep with the television going and John works best with the sound, doesn’t compromise when he’s in hunter mode.
Dean’s phone goes off at 10:30 and he grabs for it immediately, waits until a few rings to answer so Sam won’t know he’s been waiting for the call.
“Hey, Sammy.”
“Hey, long day?”
“Yeah, is it that obvious?”
“Only to me. How’s the hunt?”
“Time consuming, but pretty standard. Dad’s still trying to figure out how it threw him.”
Sam laughs. “Man, I wouldn’t wanna be the thing that manages to not get killed by Dad.”
“I hear that. How was your day?”
“Boring. Studied literally the entire day. But I guess it was bound to go downhill from where it started.”
Dean coughs awkwardly. “Studying. Sounds like a party.”
“Hunting with Dad, I can hardly control my envy.”
“Watch it, Sam.”
Sam makes an annoyed sound and Dean smiles at the sour face he can see through the phone line.
“I miss you.”
“You always do, Samantha.”
“I really, really miss you.”
Dean’s fingers instinctively go up and trace the mark on his neck, but he doesn’t say anything.
“God, Dean, would it kill you?”
“You know I miss you, idiot.”
“Yeah, I do.” Sam’s smug little tone makes Dean simultaneously annoyed and turned on at once.
“So.”
“So?”
“What are you wearing?”
Dean laughs out loud. “Seriously, Sam? That’s really suave.”
“Don’t you wanna know what I’m wearing?”
“Not particularly.”
“Mmm, bet you do.”
“Stop it right now. We’re not gonna…Christ, Sam. Dad’s in the next room.”
“He’s on his own little planet, Dean. You don’t exist right now, and you know he’s not coming to bed for hours.”
“Still-“
“It’s that shirt of yours, the Metallica one. The one you like to pretend you hate me borrowing because you can’t stand how hot it makes you.”
Dean’s protest dies on his lips. He can just see Sam, lying in bed, stretching out the old worn cotton. Dean always wondered why Sam insisted on taking that shirt all the time-it can’t be comfortable, the way it clings to him, rides up on Sam’s abs, much too tight. And it sure as hell isn’t Sam’s passion for Metallica.
“Love the way you look at me in it. Makes me feel like you’re here. I wear it every time you go, Dean. Even when it’s dirty and it smells like you. Like it better like that.”
Dean just breathes heavily and tries to keep his hands off his cock.
“Does that turn you on, Dean?”
“Yes,” he concedes, hoping it’ll end the conversation.
“That’s not all I’m wearing, you know.”
“I thought the way this was supposed to work was you lie and say you’re not wearing anything.”
Sam doesn’t let Dean joke his way out of this. “Got your boxers on, too.”
“Fuck, man. I left you clean laundry. Why do you have to take mine?”
“These aren’t clean. You wore them last week. And right now, I’m rubbing my big, hard dick where yours was.”
Dean makes a sound that’s pathetically close to a whimper. He gives up, unbuttons his pants and pushes them down, gets a tight grip on his hardening cock.
“You touching yourself yet?”
“You know I am.”
“Yeah, I know exactly how you like it, too. Been watching you for years. Got it memorized. That nice, slow rhythm you like. Or are you going fast right now? Have I got you so hot you can’t wait? I’ve watched you like that, too. When you get back, I’m gonna touch you just how you like it.”
Dean tries to stifle his groan and Sam laughs, low and husky like Dean never thought he’d hear his little brother.
“Doing it to myself right now, doing it the way you like it. Up and down and up and down and now you’re gonna do the little twist at the head, right?”
Dean can’t even believe how accurate Sam has it down, he almost feels Sam’s eyes on him after all those years not knowing he was watching.
“That’s how I’m gonna touch you when I fuck you, Dean. Never fucked anyone before, you know. She asked and I said I couldn’t. I was waiting for you.”
Dean’s had the fantasy a million times, being the first thing his brother sinks into, but he never thought it could be real.
“You want that, Dean? You want me to fuck you?”
“More than anything.”
Dean hears Sam cry out, knows his brother finished. And Sam wanting him that bad, it makes Dean finish, too.
He gets out of bed, makes a break for the bathroom, and cleans up while Sam’s still on the phone, presumably doing the same thing.
“You better wash my fucking clothes before I get back,” Dean orders when he’s coming out of the bathroom and settling back into bed.
“I’m not your housewife all of a sudden.”
“You came on my underwear, dude.”
“You liked it!”
“Yeah, well I don’t need to see it.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll wash my suddenly impressive pile of soiled clothing.”
“Maybe we should try some of this stuff when you’re not wearing pants. I hear it’s cleaner that way.”
“Wow, Dean. You just don’t get the credit you deserve for your intellect.”
“We can’t all be cool kids and party all weekend like you.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
“You sound tired.”
“I was tired at the beginning of this call and you didn’t seem to mind all that much.”
“I’m so inconsiderate and awful.”
“Yeah. And you have stupid hair…we are making a list, right?”
“Sometimes I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“And I also have a big math test tomorrow which will have exactly zero questions on it about how long it takes to get my brother off. So I’m going to let you go and get some sleep.”
“Fair enough. Good luck on your test, Sammy.”
“Thanks. Good luck on your hunt.”
“Don’t need it. Especially not with Dad.”
“I know. I was being polite. I’ll explain it to you sometime.”
“Night, Sam.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow when I finish my test.”
“I’m holding my breath I’m so psyched.”
“Goodnight, Dean.”
Sam hangs up and Dean falls asleep easily, still wrapped up in his brother’s voice.
The next day is a blur with a thousand other hunts, they take care of the bones in the cemetery by early evening and Dad starts trying to figure out who they need to go after for bringing the spirits to life to begin with. Dean is no help to him, can’t focus on a word Dad says. All he can think is that Sam promised to call after his test, that Sam’s test finished hours ago and Sam hadn’t called or answered Dean’s calls.
Dean knows he’ll look pretty pathetic if he makes a big deal out of that, that Dad will tear him a new one for babying his brother if he tells him Sam’s a few hours late to call and that means Dean needs to bail on a hunt. But Dean feels something sick in his stomach and he can’t reason it away. If he drives four hours to find Sam went out with friends or took a nap, Dean will never hear the end of it. But if he ignores this and something happens to Sam…that’ll be the end of everything as far as Dean is concerned.
So he lies. Tells Dad he got a call for an easy hunt a few hours away and can he go deal with it while Dad takes out one measly little witch or whatever caused this. Dad actually looks proud when he sends Dean on his way.
_______________________________________________________________
Dean drives as fast as he can get away with and doesn’t stop once, but it’s still night by the time he gets back to the apartment they’re staying in. He calms down as soon as the building is in sight because everything looks so normal. Dean is pretty sure the world would go haywire if Sam were in trouble.
Dean lets himself in quietly. The lights are off in Sam and Dean’s room, so Dean leaves the living room light on and sneaks over to Sam’s bed. His pulse beats out of control until he sees his little brother sleeping easily. Dean lets out a deep breath of relief and shakes Sam softly. Sam’s eyes open slowly and he smiles at Dean.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Sam replies, sitting up and pulling Dean into a kiss. Dean’s blood runs cold as soon as Sam’s lips touch his and he pushes him away with force.
“What’s wrong, Dean?”
“What the fuck did you do with him?”
“With who? What do you mean?”
“Sam, you fucking scum. Where’s my little brother?”
“I am your little brother!”
Dean pulls the silver knife he tucks under Sam’s mattress in seconds and aims it at the thing.
“Look. I’m not kidding. So don’t fucking play with me.”
Dean waits, stares unmoving and Sam’s face stares back. It’s a gamble-if the shifter doesn’t break first, Dean’s screwed. He won’t attack the damn thing, not until he’s 100% sure it’s not Sam and he’s pretty sure, but not taking any chances. He just has to hope the monster doesn’t know that, that it panics and shows itself. It takes the bait.
Dean is ready for his lunge and dodges it easily, but he doesn’t have much of a plan after that. He can’t kill it until he knows what it did with Sam and he can’t hold a shifter long enough to get answers, not on his own.
The fight that ensues goes on too long, tires them both out. Dean is the better fighter, nicks the shifter a few times with his knife, but not enough. Dean’s energy and strength are no match. He keeps going until the room is in disrepair, he’s bleeding and limping, and finally the thing tackles him, pins him down. Dean can’t break away.
The shifter grabs Dean’s wrist and crushes it until Dean can’t hold on to the knife any more. It falls to the ground and the monster pushes it just out of Dean’s reach, under one of the beds. Dean figures he’s a dead man. So he decides he has nothing to lose.
“Just tell me what you did with my brother. Please. Just tell me where Sam is.”
The shifter laughs and smiles-dimples cut into his cheeks and Dean wants to throw up at this thing wearing his brother’s face.
“Sam’s dead. I killed him nice and slow and painful.”
“Liar.”
“Got no reason to lie to you, do I?”
Dean shakes his head, tries to get the thought out. It can’t be real. He can’t process it.
“You. No. He’s not. Where is he? Please. Where’s Sam? Just tell me where he is.”
“Sam wasn’t as quick on the uptake as you. I wore your face and Sam didn’t suspect a thing. He let me fuck him and then, when I was cutting him up like a steak, he just kept looking with those stupid little eyes.” The monster imitates Sam’s pleading expression perfectly and Dean closes his eyes against it. “’Why Dean? It’s your Sammy. Why are you hurting your Sammy?’ Yeah, he believed it was you all the way up until he bled himself out.”
“No, he wouldn’t. He knows I could never. Sam knows.”
“Don’t you mean knew? Sam is past tense by now.”
“Why?”
“Why? I don’t like hunters. Why? Because all it took was one look at you and your brother to know you were more messed up than any of the ones I’ve killed before. Twice as fun to play with. Though I guess I did Sammy a favor, huh? Better than hanging around with a freak like you taking care of him. I mean, really? Your own little brother?”
“He’s not dead. Sam’s not dead. He can’t be. Oh, God, he can’t be.”
“I told you he is.”
Dean shakes his head, doesn’t say anything. Just waits. The thing killed Sam and it’s supposed to kill him next. Dean just wants to know what’s taking so long.
“Aren’t you gonna start blowing smoke about all the awful things you’re going to do to me now?”
“Do it. Please. Whatever you did to Sam, do it to me.”
“What kind of hunter are you? You’re just gonna roll over and die? I killed your brother. I wanna hear you whine about revenge. You all do it so well.”
“It won’t bring Sam back. I don’t. Just kill me. I let him die. I was supposed to take care of him. I let him die.”
The thing lightens up on his grip, looks annoyed at Dean, wears the expression Sam used to wear when Dean left his dirty socks out. Only Sam won’t wear that expression anymore and seeing it and knowing that is the most painful thing Dean can remember.
“Please, kill me. Kill me right now, because if you don’t, I will make sure you regret it. I don’t need revenge. My dad’ll take care of that. But if you don’t kill me, so help me God, I will tear you apart with my bare fists.”
It smiles. “That’s better, Dean. That’s the kind of cocksure stupidity I like to hear from your type. Before I do it, should I be you or Sam when Daddy gets home? Should I tell him his sons were fucking, or do we want to let that one die with you?”
Dean thinks he’s imagining things when he sees another Sam creep up behind the shifter. The silver blade he’d lost floats easily across the monster’s throat and Sam pushes it aside and onto its back so fast, Dean doesn’t get a drop of its blood on him. It’s the cleanest kill Sam’s ever made. Dean is too shaken up to be proud.
He looks over at the copy of Sam and, even knowing it’s fake, he lets out a dull sob and curls into himself. He can’t see that dead body, not when Sam had been dead seconds ago and it had been his fault.
“Dean, hey. Look at me. I’m okay. We’re both okay.”
Dean shakes his head, grabs at his little brother’s shirt desperately and pulls him in.
“Dead. You were dead. Oh, God, Sam. I let him kill you. You were dead.”
“No, no. Dean. Come on, shh. Look at me. I’m right here. I’m okay. Dean, calm down. I’m okay.”
“How? How? You were dead. Sammy. I’m sorry. Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
“No, Dean, you saved me. Look, nothing but a few cuts. He was lying. Dean, listen to me.”
Sam pulls Dean up and sits him on one of the beds. Dean shakes and touches Sam, can’t stop touching Sam. Sam is in one piece.
“Dean, please calm down. It’s dead, it won’t hurt us.”
“He said. He could have. Why didn’t he? How are you alive? God, Sam, am I imagining things? Are you fake, too? I can’t. No. I don’t want to be alive. Please, if you’re gonna do it, do it.”
“Dean, I’m not one of them. You know I’m not. Come on, look at me. I’ll explain but you need to pull yourself together.”
Sam kisses him repeatedly, and it soothes Dean, brings him back. He takes steadying breaths and Sam pulls him into a comforting embrace.
“I told him you’d come to save me and you did. That’s all, Dean. We’re okay now.”
“I didn’t save you, I didn’t. I was too late. Too weak. You should be…I’m supposed to protect you and I couldn’t.”
“I told him that. I told him a hundred times. ‘I’m not scared of you. My big brother’s gonna save me.’ And he laughed. That’s why he didn’t kill me, because I knew you were coming and he didn’t believe me. He tied me up and hid me under that bed and he said I was going to watch you fail me, but you didn’t, Dean. You got that knife to me. I never would have gotten out if you hadn’t, or if you hadn’t distracted him and he’d remembered to grab it back. We killed him together. He can’t hurt us now.”
“Is it true, what he said, Sammy? Did you let him-?”
“No. God, no. I knew as soon as I opened the door to him. He said he ditched Dad and the hunt to come back to me. You’d never. I knew it wasn’t you, Dean. He didn’t touch me, okay?”
Dean nods and lies down. He stares in front of him with dead eyes and Sam curls up behind him.
“I can’t take the body out, Sam. I can’t help you. If I look at it, I’ll be sick. I swear, I will.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll take care of it. Just need the Impala and I’ll be right back and he’ll be done with forever. And when Dad gets back, we can leave here as soon as he’s in the door. He’ll be thrilled to hear I want to go already.”
Dean pulls Sam’s arm around him and closes his eyes. “I don’t want you to do it alone. I won’t let you out of my sight.”
Sam laughs light and kisses Dean chastely on his neck.
“I’m right here, Dean. Just relax.”
Sam runs a soothing hand up and down Dean’s body and Dean doesn’t realize he’s drifting out until he’s fallen asleep. He wakes up what feels like days later, but can only be a few hours. Sam’s still holding on to him, his brother is the first thing Dean smells and he doesn’t open his eyes for several minutes, he’s terrified it won’t be real.
They’re under the covers, which means Sam must have moved him around after he fell asleep, and Sam’s wearing the kind of thing he usually sleeps in instead of the blood-and-sweat drenched clothes he’d had on last night. Dean panics for a second, his fears confirmed when he looks down at the floor and there’s no evidence of what happened the night before except for the broken lamp on the nightstand. Sam left to get rid of the body and Dean tightens up at the thought that Sam had gone off alone for a few hours, then relaxes and he’s just grateful he doesn’t have to look at the damn thing.
“Dean? You awake?”
He turns back to look at Sam. He considers apologizing for waking him up, then gets a better idea. The kiss surprises Sam, but he catches on quickly, opening up to Dean, deepening it.
“Mmm,” he says contentedly. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Sam. I wanna…” He bites his lip. ‘I wanna feel how alive you are,’ isn’t the kind of thing Dean feels comfortable saying, and ‘I want you to fuck me until my dick explodes’ doesn’t really fit what he’s trying to ask for. “We have some unfinished business to take care of.”
“I literally just woke up,” Sam grumbles, but Dean can feel that it won’t be a problem. Sam eases Dean down, kisses him possessively, and gets him ready. Sam loses his virginity three times over that morning and Dean almost feels like he does, too. Dean’s fucked so many times he can’t remember most of the faces…it’s never meant anything before.
They spend most of the day in bed until Dean is hungry and Sam is antsy. They decide to go eat at the nearest restaurant to their apartment, which is a diner across the street. Sam glares at the menu and rolls his eyes when Dean orders for him, the same way he always does. Only this time, when the waitress mentions how lucky he is, Sam smiles. When she mistakes Dean for Sam’s boyfriend, Dean chokes on his drink, but Sam just corrects her and knocks his foot against Dean’s lightly. They go home and mess around and mock bad television until Dad calls and asks Sam how his big exam went. That’s the first time it hits them that after everything, Sam had missed his test anyway. Sam doesn’t seem to mind, and Dean certainly doesn’t, either.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean, John, a very nasty monster-of-the-week
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Angst, Schmoop-we’ve got it all, folks.
Rating: NC-17 for Explicit Sexual Content, Weecest (Sam is 16), and Language
Word Count: 6,706
Author’s Note: Written for cacklesthewitch for help_haiti. Hope this is what you had in mind, darling, and that you really enjoy this story! I tried to incorporate most of your prompts/kinks, most prominently the clothes swapping (though I messed around with that one a little) and excessively protective Boys. I didn’t intend for this to be so porny, but hopefully it also has a little emotional appeal as well, lol. Beta’d by wutendeskind. Title stolen from my BFF, Victor Hugo. There is a companion piece to this story that is set before it, though both stories stand alone. It can be found here. ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eosrose, you can read this story and its prequel in epub format here.
Summary: Dean finally gives in after months of trying to resist Sam, but when Dean goes on a hunt with John and leaves Sam behind, things go terribly wrong.
IF YOU WANT TO READ IT (it's not necessary to understand what's going on at all), THE COMPANION PIECE SET ONE YEAR PRIOR TO THIS STORY CAN BE FOUND HERE.
It’s been a long time since Sam’s been this upset. Whiny teenage brat though he is, there’s a difference between slamming doors and back talking Dad and this. Sam knows how to hide when he’s really hurting, he learned from the best. But that’s Dean’s way and Sam was never comfortable with it. Maybe this time he lets himself fall apart because Dad is gone and he knows Dean won’t mock him. Maybe he’s just in more pain than he’s been in for a while. Dean doesn’t know why. All he knows is that he’ll die if he has to spend another day seeing Sam like this. Trying to help cheer him up. Failing.
Sam has a broken heart. It’s the first time for Sam, or at least the first time a girl does it. Some sick part of Dean almost envies his brother for it. It’s a normal thing to be heartbroken over, but Dean will never experience it. He’ll never care about a girl that much-he’s too screwed up-and the one person he could Love…well, he can’t really think about that.
“Sammy,” Dean tries to pull Sam up, take him in his arms like he used to when Sam was a kid, small enough to hold and nothing dangerous about it. It’s dangerous now, but Dean doesn’t know what else to do. He has to do something.
Sam shoves him away; Dean thinks it hurts more than any hunt he’s ever been injured on.
“Go away, Dean.”
“Sam, I just want to help.”
“Yeah, well you’re not going to.”
He releases Sam immediately, doesn’t let how much that stung him play out on his face.
“I’ll go make dinner.”
“I liked her, Dean,” Sam says as Dean’s trying to leave the room and he immediately turns back and sits on the bed next to his brother. It’s the most he’s been willing to say about it since he got home from school yesterday crying.
Dean didn’t even believe him at first. What girl could possibly be that stupid? Who would have Sam and let him go? Sam’s too smart to fall for a girl like that. But it is real, Sam really is hurting, and Dean is simultaneously furious with the girl for letting Sam go and, ugly though it may be, relieved that she’s out of the picture. No more hogging Sam, no more having to wonder just how much of his little brother she’s getting. Dean has no right to Sam, but in his head, Sam’s still his, always will be.
“I liked her so much that sometimes I could forget about…” Sam licks his lips and looks at Dean. “I guess that’s why she dumped me. She knew she wouldn’t ever be…you could help me, Dean. But I know you’re not going to. So don’t touch me, don’t take care of me. You’re only going to make it worse. I’d rather hurt about her than want you more than I already do.”
Sam’s words are like a punch in the gut. You could help me, but you won’t. Dean had tried so hard to convince Sam he didn’t want him, but Sam wasn’t fooled for a second. It hadn’t been fair, having to tell Sam the truth and still fight off his advances. Sam isn’t the kind to let it go, to not use it against him. So Sam looks him in the eye, accusing, knowing they both want it and blaming Dean for what he has to do. It’s his job not to give in. Sam doesn’t try to understand that. He doesn’t bother to hide how disappointed he is in Dean, how complete his conviction that Dean will let him down is. Dean’s let him down before, for a year he’s been letting them both down.
He had a good reason to do it. He doesn’t even remember what it was anymore. Something about brothers. Something about wrong. He can’t make the connection right now. It doesn’t feel wrong. Wrong is that look in Sam’s eyes, that lack of faith and the unwavering sadness in his expression. Dean can’t help remembering the Sam he fell in Love with a year ago, the smile that had so much trust and unqualified happiness as he pulled Dean into that pool despite Dean’s protests. Dean had spent the entire day trying not to throw up, trying to stop thinking what he ended up spending the entire next year thinking. But all that shame he’s been holding on to is as absent now as Sam’s easy contentment.
“Sam-“
“I know what you’re going to say, okay? Don’t fucking both-”
Dean’s fingers run lightly across Sam’s cheek and he leans in, desperate for the kiss and the smile he needs to follow it. He pulls away quickly; almost terrified it won’t be there, that this wasn’t going to be enough. Too little, too late. But Sam’s dimples are all Dean can see for a few moments-it’s fucking gorgeous and completely blinding.
“You can’t do this and take it back,” Sam says, bossy and taking Dean’s obedience for granted. Dean couldn’t stop now if he wanted to, so he just nods into another kiss. Sam’s smiling again by the time their mouths join.
Sam doesn’t waste time, moves his lips to Dean’s neck and-Dean nearly dies at the realization-Sam’s big hand is working its way up his thigh and he’s not going to stop when he runs out of leg. Dean groans, his legs coming apart easily and his only conscious thought is that denim is much too thick. He needs to feel Sam; he needs to feel Sam immediately. And he will, in just a few moments. Long fingers curl in his zipper.
They stop in an instant. Their eyes lock and they both know that the other is recognizing the sound, that it wasn’t just some paranoid hallucination. Dean can identify the hum of his Dad’s truck from a mile away. He’s just never been disappointed to hear it before.
“Fuck!” Sam stands up and looks out the window, gives the wall a frustrated kick before he turns back to Dean. “Now? He gets home now?”
Dean’s still too lightheaded to respond. He’s staring at Sam, Sam who is hard in his jeans, and he can’t muster up any intelligent thought, just reaches out to touch before he remembers why they stopped to begin with.
It’s obviously a sign. The universe is trying to do him a favor, intervene before he actually lets his little brother fuck him. The universe, Dean decides, should really mind its own fucking business.
Sam flops down on his bed and gets under the covers to hide what Dean should really stop staring at if he doesn’t want to have to deal with the same situation. Dean turns the TV on and lies back. By the time the keys are sliding into the lock, Sam and Dean look exactly the way they always do when their father gets home from a hunt.
John comes in and shakes the room up immediately: radiating frustration, slamming the door, putting his things down too loudly. He doesn’t say anything to Sam and Dean, no greeting, not even a nod of acknowledgement. He’s covered in dirt and blood and Dean knows how the hunt went, so he doesn’t ask.
Dean turns the TV off, sits up and waits for instructions. It’s been too long since they went on a hunt with their father, and he’s felt this coming for days.
“Pack. We’re going back tomorrow and finishing this.”
Dean nods. Sam takes the chance to vent his annoyance. Dean doesn’t know how he does it. John is terrifying right now.
“I can’t. I have a test on Monday. I’m not missing my test.”
Dean waits for the fight. John’s verbal lashing and Sam’s attempts to shout over it. Dean’s been listening to it for months, a song he can’t skip over no matter how much he wants to. The fight doesn’t come. John’s response is even more unsettling.
“Of course not, Sam. You can stay. Take your test. Your brother’s coming with me.”
The way he says it, an ironic little smile when he tells Sam he’s separating them. Dean worries. He’s imagining it, he tells himself, Dad can’t know. They covered their tracks perfectly-it’s something they’re good at…but Dad’s always better. But if John knew, he’d be furious. He’d never be this calm about it-Dean is just being paranoid. Still, he shifts uncomfortably and looks over at Sam, tries to read his brother’s expression. Sam looks pleased, if a little shocked, and when he meets Dean’s gaze, there’s no worry there. There’s regret, a hungry look that makes Dean wonder how he’ll get through an entire hunt without his little brother’s touch, how he ever did it before.
The rest of the night is as awkward as it should be. Dean can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, so he gives up trying to figure it out.
Dad wakes him early the next morning, it’s still dark outside. He looks over at his brother safe and asleep-Dean can’t help the little smile on his lips. Sam’s lying on his side facing Dean’s bed, mouth slightly open, comfortable like Sam deserves to be. It’s usually his job to wake him now, but Dean just pulls the covers back over Sam where they’ve shifted in the night. He likes this, not having to disturb Sam, knowing he won’t have to worry about him on the hunt. Dean wishes it could always be this easy.
John tells Dean to be ready when he gets back from picking up more salt, so Dean showers quickly. He doesn’t hear the door open-it takes a lot to sneak up on Dean Winchester. When he pushes the curtain aside and grabs his towel, Sam’s eyes are watching him from the other side of the bathroom. He doesn’t look away politely, he stares at Dean and Dean’s attempt to cover up just makes Sam smirk.
“You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“Wanted to say goodbye.”
“That couldn’t wait for me to finish getting dressed?”
“Not the kind of goodbye I intended.”
Sam approaches Dean in a few charged strides and pushes him against the wall so fast, Dean slams against it and it hurts. He moans, but it isn’t because of the pain, and Sam can tell the difference, pins Dean there and doesn’t let up. Dean only pretends to fight to feel his brother not give in-he’s strong for sixteen, stronger than Dean ever thought the kid he used to baby would be. Sam’s lips follow the water drops moving down Dean’s skin, tracing the curve of Dean’s jaw with little bites. He grabs at the towel wrapped around Dean’s hips, tosses it to the floor in seconds, and wraps his hand around Dean’s cock.
“Sam, I. I’m in a rush. Dad could be home any second, you know that.”
“Mmm, have to touch you, Dean. Can’t let you go until…” Sam pulls away and looks down. “I wanna taste you, too. I want so much. You’re just gonna have to give it to me quickly.”
Sam whispers the last bit against Dean’s neck and Dean knows he shouldn’t let Sam mark him there, Dad could see it and he’s the one person Dean can’t lie to. But Dean also knows he’ll wake up tomorrow missing his brother, and he wants to see the proof of this in the mirror. When Sam tries to break away, Dean just pushes him back down and Sam’s lips become even more insistent than before.
“Sammy, oh God.” Dean thrusts faster into Sam’s hand and Sam stops, pulls his entire body away. Dean feels cold air hit his wet skin, he grabs at Sam, tries to get the comfort of Sam’s body pressing into him again, but Sam shakes his head.
“He’s not taking you from me and leaving me empty handed,” Sam says roughly. “I’m not waiting any longer for this. I’ve been waiting for years.”
With that, Sam sinks to his knees and Dean would fall over if Sam weren’t still holding him in place.
“Sam, fuck.”
Dean looks to the door and tells himself he should make a break for it. Get dressed and not risk getting caught like this. He looks back down and Sam’s watching him closely. Doubting him again, as if he can read his brother’s thoughts.
“Fucking do it already,” Dean half-growls.
Sam’s mouth opens around Dean and, it doesn’t matter that he’s obviously never done this before, probably hasn’t had it done to him too many times. Sam doesn’t need to know what he’s doing. Just feeling lips and knowing they’re Sam’s-actually Sam’s and not just some replacement-it’s the best head Dean’s ever had and Sam hasn’t even started yet.
As soon as Dean’s fingers curl in Sam’s hair, Sam gives in, lets Dean guide him with needy tugs and thrusts. Sam wasn’t kidding about wanting Dean to finish fast, so he lets Dean have his way. When Dean’s head falls back, smacking hard against the wall and too blissed out to even care, Sam tries to swallow everything Dean gives him.
Sam coughs, once, twice, and Dean is about to worry, ask if Sam is okay, when Sam stands up. Dean can see the come Sam couldn’t swallow coating his lips, and then Sam pushes up to Dean and kisses him-the same needy desperation but softer, violent and tender at the same time. Sam cradles Dean’s face in his big hands and Dean can taste Sam’s minty toothpaste and the bitter unfamiliar flavor of his own come. It’s not something Dean ever thought he’d want to taste, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of it.
Sam presses up even closer; Dean can feel how hard he is through his thin pajama bottoms. Sam’s clothes are soaked from Dean’s shower and the thought that Sam’s been that close to him almost has Dean coming all over again.
“Fuck, I wish we could do this right,” Sam whines, pulling away from the kiss for a few seconds before Dean presses forward again, following the strands of come dangling between their mouths. Sam kisses him back for a moment and then he flips Dean around with no warning, so Dean’s face and body are pressed flush against the wall and Sam pushes against him.
“Wanna fuck you. Really fuck you.” Sam’s fingers dig into Dean’s thighs as he holds Dean’s legs apart and Sam begins to thrust in between them, rubbing his cock against Dean’s legs, seeking desperately for enough friction through his clothes.
All Dean can manage is a broken moan. “Sammy.”
Sam seems to understand what it means, his lips return to the spot he already sucked into Dean’s neck and Dean can’t think of anything hotter than the purple bruise that’ll stand out against his skin while he’s away on the hunt. He tries to push back into his brother, somehow give him the pressure he needs to get off, and Sam freezes up. His cry is muffled against Dean’s skin, but Dean feels the vibrations of it and thrills at what they mean.
“I Love you.”
Sam whispers it right into Dean’s ear and holds him for a few more seconds before taking a step back. Dean turns to face Sam, wondering if he’s supposed to say it, too. But Sam just smiles at him and looks down sheepishly.
“Wow, jizz in your pajama bottoms. You really are sixteen.”
“Shut up,” Sam says through a laugh. Then he looks at Dean closely for a few more seconds before he picks up the abandoned towel and pushes it into Dean’s chest. “You better get ready or Dad’ll kick your ass. And then I’ll have to defend your honor or something.”
“You aren’t even half as cute as you think you are.”
“That so?”
Dean doesn’t reply. He won’t lie and he won’t stroke his brother’s ego, so he just stands there wondering what the come sliding down Sam’s leg tastes like. It should wait for another day, Dean really should get ready, but Dean’s mostly thrown wise decisions to the wind at this point.
“Sammy, I want…” Dean touches Sam and Sam’s breath hitches.
“I know what you want.” He reaches down, pushes below the elastic band holding his pants up and when he pulls his hand back out, it’s covered in slick. Sam licks his lips and watches Dean intently as he licks a stray drop off his palm.
“God, Sam, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”
Sam smiles and offers a few fingers to Dean. Dean sucks them into his mouth greedily, closes his eyes and imagines how much better it’ll be when he really has Sam in his mouth, moaning and writhing under him like he’s dying from it.
“You. Need to go. Get dressed. Before I can’t fucking hold back any more.”
“Mmm,” Dean responds, refusing to stop until Sam’s hand is clean. Clean of come, at least.
Sam opens the bathroom door with his other hand and ushers Dean out. Dean goes, finally satisfied and ready to let Sam out of his sight. Sam stays in the bathroom a few minutes longer, washing his hand and collecting himself.
Dean is dressed and ready to go by the time Sam crosses back into the common room and Dean tosses a clean pair of bottoms in his face. Sam just snorts and changes right in front of Dean. The last of their attempts at personal space probably disappeared about the time Sam had Dean’s cock down his throat, but Dean’s still stupidly giddy over what it implies.
“I’ll miss you,” Sam says, sitting on Dean’s bed and looking up at his brother. Dean wraps one hand around Sam’s neck and is about to bend down for a kiss when they hear their Dad’s approach.
“How does he always know?” Sam jokes. Dean shakes his head and ruffles his little brother’s hair.
Dad opens the door and Dean picks up his bag to go.
“I’ll see you in a few days, kiddo,” Dean says, with an intimate wink at Sam before he turns to face his father.
“Dean, come on,” John snaps, clearly still sore over his failed hunt. For once, Dean doesn’t really mind that his father’s annoyed with him. He just wants to go, get the hunt over with, and come back to Sam.
_______________________________________________________________
Dean follows his Dad in the Impala for about four hours before he gets the signal to pull into the next motel. Dean checks out a room for two nights and by the time he gets to it, Dad’s already spreading things out on the table, taking out guns-John Winchester doesn’t respond well to failure.
They spend the first day checking up on facts, getting Dean acquainted with the job. Dad’s already done most of the leg work, which means Dean gets to skip the part he hates and go straight to the kill. It’s a ghost hunt, which is why John thought he could handle it alone, but it’s a whole damn cemetery-some kind of voodoo that Dean can’t trace to this redneck town is keeping the bones awake and bitter.
They get back early, maybe 7 p.m., and they order pizza and have a few beers while watching a game. It’s an oddly nice day, but they’re both pretty tired from the drive and Dean decides to turn in early. John nods absently as Dean leaves the room; it’s obvious he’ll be obsessing over the facts of the case until the early morning hours and Dean is just glad this motel has the beds sectioned off from the living area. He’s never been able to sleep with the television going and John works best with the sound, doesn’t compromise when he’s in hunter mode.
Dean’s phone goes off at 10:30 and he grabs for it immediately, waits until a few rings to answer so Sam won’t know he’s been waiting for the call.
“Hey, Sammy.”
“Hey, long day?”
“Yeah, is it that obvious?”
“Only to me. How’s the hunt?”
“Time consuming, but pretty standard. Dad’s still trying to figure out how it threw him.”
Sam laughs. “Man, I wouldn’t wanna be the thing that manages to not get killed by Dad.”
“I hear that. How was your day?”
“Boring. Studied literally the entire day. But I guess it was bound to go downhill from where it started.”
Dean coughs awkwardly. “Studying. Sounds like a party.”
“Hunting with Dad, I can hardly control my envy.”
“Watch it, Sam.”
Sam makes an annoyed sound and Dean smiles at the sour face he can see through the phone line.
“I miss you.”
“You always do, Samantha.”
“I really, really miss you.”
Dean’s fingers instinctively go up and trace the mark on his neck, but he doesn’t say anything.
“God, Dean, would it kill you?”
“You know I miss you, idiot.”
“Yeah, I do.” Sam’s smug little tone makes Dean simultaneously annoyed and turned on at once.
“So.”
“So?”
“What are you wearing?”
Dean laughs out loud. “Seriously, Sam? That’s really suave.”
“Don’t you wanna know what I’m wearing?”
“Not particularly.”
“Mmm, bet you do.”
“Stop it right now. We’re not gonna…Christ, Sam. Dad’s in the next room.”
“He’s on his own little planet, Dean. You don’t exist right now, and you know he’s not coming to bed for hours.”
“Still-“
“It’s that shirt of yours, the Metallica one. The one you like to pretend you hate me borrowing because you can’t stand how hot it makes you.”
Dean’s protest dies on his lips. He can just see Sam, lying in bed, stretching out the old worn cotton. Dean always wondered why Sam insisted on taking that shirt all the time-it can’t be comfortable, the way it clings to him, rides up on Sam’s abs, much too tight. And it sure as hell isn’t Sam’s passion for Metallica.
“Love the way you look at me in it. Makes me feel like you’re here. I wear it every time you go, Dean. Even when it’s dirty and it smells like you. Like it better like that.”
Dean just breathes heavily and tries to keep his hands off his cock.
“Does that turn you on, Dean?”
“Yes,” he concedes, hoping it’ll end the conversation.
“That’s not all I’m wearing, you know.”
“I thought the way this was supposed to work was you lie and say you’re not wearing anything.”
Sam doesn’t let Dean joke his way out of this. “Got your boxers on, too.”
“Fuck, man. I left you clean laundry. Why do you have to take mine?”
“These aren’t clean. You wore them last week. And right now, I’m rubbing my big, hard dick where yours was.”
Dean makes a sound that’s pathetically close to a whimper. He gives up, unbuttons his pants and pushes them down, gets a tight grip on his hardening cock.
“You touching yourself yet?”
“You know I am.”
“Yeah, I know exactly how you like it, too. Been watching you for years. Got it memorized. That nice, slow rhythm you like. Or are you going fast right now? Have I got you so hot you can’t wait? I’ve watched you like that, too. When you get back, I’m gonna touch you just how you like it.”
Dean tries to stifle his groan and Sam laughs, low and husky like Dean never thought he’d hear his little brother.
“Doing it to myself right now, doing it the way you like it. Up and down and up and down and now you’re gonna do the little twist at the head, right?”
Dean can’t even believe how accurate Sam has it down, he almost feels Sam’s eyes on him after all those years not knowing he was watching.
“That’s how I’m gonna touch you when I fuck you, Dean. Never fucked anyone before, you know. She asked and I said I couldn’t. I was waiting for you.”
Dean’s had the fantasy a million times, being the first thing his brother sinks into, but he never thought it could be real.
“You want that, Dean? You want me to fuck you?”
“More than anything.”
Dean hears Sam cry out, knows his brother finished. And Sam wanting him that bad, it makes Dean finish, too.
He gets out of bed, makes a break for the bathroom, and cleans up while Sam’s still on the phone, presumably doing the same thing.
“You better wash my fucking clothes before I get back,” Dean orders when he’s coming out of the bathroom and settling back into bed.
“I’m not your housewife all of a sudden.”
“You came on my underwear, dude.”
“You liked it!”
“Yeah, well I don’t need to see it.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll wash my suddenly impressive pile of soiled clothing.”
“Maybe we should try some of this stuff when you’re not wearing pants. I hear it’s cleaner that way.”
“Wow, Dean. You just don’t get the credit you deserve for your intellect.”
“We can’t all be cool kids and party all weekend like you.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
“You sound tired.”
“I was tired at the beginning of this call and you didn’t seem to mind all that much.”
“I’m so inconsiderate and awful.”
“Yeah. And you have stupid hair…we are making a list, right?”
“Sometimes I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“And I also have a big math test tomorrow which will have exactly zero questions on it about how long it takes to get my brother off. So I’m going to let you go and get some sleep.”
“Fair enough. Good luck on your test, Sammy.”
“Thanks. Good luck on your hunt.”
“Don’t need it. Especially not with Dad.”
“I know. I was being polite. I’ll explain it to you sometime.”
“Night, Sam.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow when I finish my test.”
“I’m holding my breath I’m so psyched.”
“Goodnight, Dean.”
Sam hangs up and Dean falls asleep easily, still wrapped up in his brother’s voice.
The next day is a blur with a thousand other hunts, they take care of the bones in the cemetery by early evening and Dad starts trying to figure out who they need to go after for bringing the spirits to life to begin with. Dean is no help to him, can’t focus on a word Dad says. All he can think is that Sam promised to call after his test, that Sam’s test finished hours ago and Sam hadn’t called or answered Dean’s calls.
Dean knows he’ll look pretty pathetic if he makes a big deal out of that, that Dad will tear him a new one for babying his brother if he tells him Sam’s a few hours late to call and that means Dean needs to bail on a hunt. But Dean feels something sick in his stomach and he can’t reason it away. If he drives four hours to find Sam went out with friends or took a nap, Dean will never hear the end of it. But if he ignores this and something happens to Sam…that’ll be the end of everything as far as Dean is concerned.
So he lies. Tells Dad he got a call for an easy hunt a few hours away and can he go deal with it while Dad takes out one measly little witch or whatever caused this. Dad actually looks proud when he sends Dean on his way.
_______________________________________________________________
Dean drives as fast as he can get away with and doesn’t stop once, but it’s still night by the time he gets back to the apartment they’re staying in. He calms down as soon as the building is in sight because everything looks so normal. Dean is pretty sure the world would go haywire if Sam were in trouble.
Dean lets himself in quietly. The lights are off in Sam and Dean’s room, so Dean leaves the living room light on and sneaks over to Sam’s bed. His pulse beats out of control until he sees his little brother sleeping easily. Dean lets out a deep breath of relief and shakes Sam softly. Sam’s eyes open slowly and he smiles at Dean.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Sam replies, sitting up and pulling Dean into a kiss. Dean’s blood runs cold as soon as Sam’s lips touch his and he pushes him away with force.
“What’s wrong, Dean?”
“What the fuck did you do with him?”
“With who? What do you mean?”
“Sam, you fucking scum. Where’s my little brother?”
“I am your little brother!”
Dean pulls the silver knife he tucks under Sam’s mattress in seconds and aims it at the thing.
“Look. I’m not kidding. So don’t fucking play with me.”
Dean waits, stares unmoving and Sam’s face stares back. It’s a gamble-if the shifter doesn’t break first, Dean’s screwed. He won’t attack the damn thing, not until he’s 100% sure it’s not Sam and he’s pretty sure, but not taking any chances. He just has to hope the monster doesn’t know that, that it panics and shows itself. It takes the bait.
Dean is ready for his lunge and dodges it easily, but he doesn’t have much of a plan after that. He can’t kill it until he knows what it did with Sam and he can’t hold a shifter long enough to get answers, not on his own.
The fight that ensues goes on too long, tires them both out. Dean is the better fighter, nicks the shifter a few times with his knife, but not enough. Dean’s energy and strength are no match. He keeps going until the room is in disrepair, he’s bleeding and limping, and finally the thing tackles him, pins him down. Dean can’t break away.
The shifter grabs Dean’s wrist and crushes it until Dean can’t hold on to the knife any more. It falls to the ground and the monster pushes it just out of Dean’s reach, under one of the beds. Dean figures he’s a dead man. So he decides he has nothing to lose.
“Just tell me what you did with my brother. Please. Just tell me where Sam is.”
The shifter laughs and smiles-dimples cut into his cheeks and Dean wants to throw up at this thing wearing his brother’s face.
“Sam’s dead. I killed him nice and slow and painful.”
“Liar.”
“Got no reason to lie to you, do I?”
Dean shakes his head, tries to get the thought out. It can’t be real. He can’t process it.
“You. No. He’s not. Where is he? Please. Where’s Sam? Just tell me where he is.”
“Sam wasn’t as quick on the uptake as you. I wore your face and Sam didn’t suspect a thing. He let me fuck him and then, when I was cutting him up like a steak, he just kept looking with those stupid little eyes.” The monster imitates Sam’s pleading expression perfectly and Dean closes his eyes against it. “’Why Dean? It’s your Sammy. Why are you hurting your Sammy?’ Yeah, he believed it was you all the way up until he bled himself out.”
“No, he wouldn’t. He knows I could never. Sam knows.”
“Don’t you mean knew? Sam is past tense by now.”
“Why?”
“Why? I don’t like hunters. Why? Because all it took was one look at you and your brother to know you were more messed up than any of the ones I’ve killed before. Twice as fun to play with. Though I guess I did Sammy a favor, huh? Better than hanging around with a freak like you taking care of him. I mean, really? Your own little brother?”
“He’s not dead. Sam’s not dead. He can’t be. Oh, God, he can’t be.”
“I told you he is.”
Dean shakes his head, doesn’t say anything. Just waits. The thing killed Sam and it’s supposed to kill him next. Dean just wants to know what’s taking so long.
“Aren’t you gonna start blowing smoke about all the awful things you’re going to do to me now?”
“Do it. Please. Whatever you did to Sam, do it to me.”
“What kind of hunter are you? You’re just gonna roll over and die? I killed your brother. I wanna hear you whine about revenge. You all do it so well.”
“It won’t bring Sam back. I don’t. Just kill me. I let him die. I was supposed to take care of him. I let him die.”
The thing lightens up on his grip, looks annoyed at Dean, wears the expression Sam used to wear when Dean left his dirty socks out. Only Sam won’t wear that expression anymore and seeing it and knowing that is the most painful thing Dean can remember.
“Please, kill me. Kill me right now, because if you don’t, I will make sure you regret it. I don’t need revenge. My dad’ll take care of that. But if you don’t kill me, so help me God, I will tear you apart with my bare fists.”
It smiles. “That’s better, Dean. That’s the kind of cocksure stupidity I like to hear from your type. Before I do it, should I be you or Sam when Daddy gets home? Should I tell him his sons were fucking, or do we want to let that one die with you?”
Dean thinks he’s imagining things when he sees another Sam creep up behind the shifter. The silver blade he’d lost floats easily across the monster’s throat and Sam pushes it aside and onto its back so fast, Dean doesn’t get a drop of its blood on him. It’s the cleanest kill Sam’s ever made. Dean is too shaken up to be proud.
He looks over at the copy of Sam and, even knowing it’s fake, he lets out a dull sob and curls into himself. He can’t see that dead body, not when Sam had been dead seconds ago and it had been his fault.
“Dean, hey. Look at me. I’m okay. We’re both okay.”
Dean shakes his head, grabs at his little brother’s shirt desperately and pulls him in.
“Dead. You were dead. Oh, God, Sam. I let him kill you. You were dead.”
“No, no. Dean. Come on, shh. Look at me. I’m right here. I’m okay. Dean, calm down. I’m okay.”
“How? How? You were dead. Sammy. I’m sorry. Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
“No, Dean, you saved me. Look, nothing but a few cuts. He was lying. Dean, listen to me.”
Sam pulls Dean up and sits him on one of the beds. Dean shakes and touches Sam, can’t stop touching Sam. Sam is in one piece.
“Dean, please calm down. It’s dead, it won’t hurt us.”
“He said. He could have. Why didn’t he? How are you alive? God, Sam, am I imagining things? Are you fake, too? I can’t. No. I don’t want to be alive. Please, if you’re gonna do it, do it.”
“Dean, I’m not one of them. You know I’m not. Come on, look at me. I’ll explain but you need to pull yourself together.”
Sam kisses him repeatedly, and it soothes Dean, brings him back. He takes steadying breaths and Sam pulls him into a comforting embrace.
“I told him you’d come to save me and you did. That’s all, Dean. We’re okay now.”
“I didn’t save you, I didn’t. I was too late. Too weak. You should be…I’m supposed to protect you and I couldn’t.”
“I told him that. I told him a hundred times. ‘I’m not scared of you. My big brother’s gonna save me.’ And he laughed. That’s why he didn’t kill me, because I knew you were coming and he didn’t believe me. He tied me up and hid me under that bed and he said I was going to watch you fail me, but you didn’t, Dean. You got that knife to me. I never would have gotten out if you hadn’t, or if you hadn’t distracted him and he’d remembered to grab it back. We killed him together. He can’t hurt us now.”
“Is it true, what he said, Sammy? Did you let him-?”
“No. God, no. I knew as soon as I opened the door to him. He said he ditched Dad and the hunt to come back to me. You’d never. I knew it wasn’t you, Dean. He didn’t touch me, okay?”
Dean nods and lies down. He stares in front of him with dead eyes and Sam curls up behind him.
“I can’t take the body out, Sam. I can’t help you. If I look at it, I’ll be sick. I swear, I will.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll take care of it. Just need the Impala and I’ll be right back and he’ll be done with forever. And when Dad gets back, we can leave here as soon as he’s in the door. He’ll be thrilled to hear I want to go already.”
Dean pulls Sam’s arm around him and closes his eyes. “I don’t want you to do it alone. I won’t let you out of my sight.”
Sam laughs light and kisses Dean chastely on his neck.
“I’m right here, Dean. Just relax.”
Sam runs a soothing hand up and down Dean’s body and Dean doesn’t realize he’s drifting out until he’s fallen asleep. He wakes up what feels like days later, but can only be a few hours. Sam’s still holding on to him, his brother is the first thing Dean smells and he doesn’t open his eyes for several minutes, he’s terrified it won’t be real.
They’re under the covers, which means Sam must have moved him around after he fell asleep, and Sam’s wearing the kind of thing he usually sleeps in instead of the blood-and-sweat drenched clothes he’d had on last night. Dean panics for a second, his fears confirmed when he looks down at the floor and there’s no evidence of what happened the night before except for the broken lamp on the nightstand. Sam left to get rid of the body and Dean tightens up at the thought that Sam had gone off alone for a few hours, then relaxes and he’s just grateful he doesn’t have to look at the damn thing.
“Dean? You awake?”
He turns back to look at Sam. He considers apologizing for waking him up, then gets a better idea. The kiss surprises Sam, but he catches on quickly, opening up to Dean, deepening it.
“Mmm,” he says contentedly. “Good morning to you, too.”
“Sam. I wanna…” He bites his lip. ‘I wanna feel how alive you are,’ isn’t the kind of thing Dean feels comfortable saying, and ‘I want you to fuck me until my dick explodes’ doesn’t really fit what he’s trying to ask for. “We have some unfinished business to take care of.”
“I literally just woke up,” Sam grumbles, but Dean can feel that it won’t be a problem. Sam eases Dean down, kisses him possessively, and gets him ready. Sam loses his virginity three times over that morning and Dean almost feels like he does, too. Dean’s fucked so many times he can’t remember most of the faces…it’s never meant anything before.
They spend most of the day in bed until Dean is hungry and Sam is antsy. They decide to go eat at the nearest restaurant to their apartment, which is a diner across the street. Sam glares at the menu and rolls his eyes when Dean orders for him, the same way he always does. Only this time, when the waitress mentions how lucky he is, Sam smiles. When she mistakes Dean for Sam’s boyfriend, Dean chokes on his drink, but Sam just corrects her and knocks his foot against Dean’s lightly. They go home and mess around and mock bad television until Dad calls and asks Sam how his big exam went. That’s the first time it hits them that after everything, Sam had missed his test anyway. Sam doesn’t seem to mind, and Dean certainly doesn’t, either.