Supernatural: Making Maps Out of Your Dreams
Title: Making Maps Out of Your Dreams
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Genre: Five Times Fic, Schmoop, Flangst, Smut
Rating: NC-17 for Language and Explicit Sexual Content (teen!cest)
Word Count: 5,321
Author’s Note: I blame coyotesuspect, this was her idea. Alternately, I blame cacklesthewitch, she bullied me into it. Basically, I blame everyone except for me. Knocking out “sunset stroll” for Schmoop Bingo. Also hitting these clichés: “The Way We Were: Pre-Canon”, “First Times”, “Five Things”, and “Getting Away From It All (Roadtrip).” ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eos_rose, you can now read this in epub format here.
Summary: Four Times Sam Read the Map Wrong, and One He Didn't.
I.
Sam knows that Dad expects him to screw up. He’s 12, he’s not stupid, and he saw the way John looked him up and down before giving Dean the instructions. They aren’t supposed to meet up with him for a week and the drive won’t take longer than a day and a half. John tells Dean to leave three days early and sends one more unsupportive look in Sam’s direction, at the map clutched in his hand. He sees his father about to ask Dean if he’s sure again, but Dean smiles and gives Sam a pat on the back.
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll get there. I’ve got help this time.”
The face John makes can almost be taken as playful. He closes the door behind him, shaking his head as he goes, and Dean turns his smile towards Sam-it’s so confident that Sam almost believes Dean when he tells him he’s going to do great.
Sam stays up all night studying the twists and turns, marking out the best route, making sure he’s double checked every possibility and chosen the best path every time. It’s his first chance to prove himself to his brother and his dad.
He can’t go on the hunt yet-most of him will admit he doesn’t even want to. A vengeful spirit is one thing, but the thing Dad’s hunting…Sam can’t even remember what it’s called, all he knows is that there’s fear hidden in his brother’s features and Sam doesn’t want more details than that. Knowing that there are things in the world even Dean is scared of is bad enough.
But Sam’s on vacation and Dean doesn’t want to leave him behind by himself for a week. Of course, that’s not quite how Dean puts it; he spouts on about how Sam is getting too old to stay home on hunts, how he can help Dean on the road-the kind of thing John will listen to. Sam knows as well as Dean that he’ll still be sitting alone at the hotel while the fight is happening, but he can’t bring himself to point out the flaw in the plan, make Dean admit that, contrary to giving Sam more responsibility, he’s just smothering.
Sam lets him get away with it, but he takes his job seriously, too. He’s been watching Dean navigate his whole life, he’s even done it himself a few times, just never on a trip this long. Dean hands the maps over and doesn’t try to give him advice or nudge him in the right direction. He trusts Sam to get it right. Sam wants, more than anything, to earn that trust.
The first day goes smoothly-not only do they not get lost, Sam cuts the travel time down by three hours. Dean lets Sam pick the restaurant they have dinner in and when to stop for the night and even though they’re both arbitrary decisions (all motels and diners are pretty much the same on trips like this one), Sam’s stomach does stupid things when Dean looks at him, pride showing through every time his eyes slide over in Sam’s direction.
Sam’s already labeled the entire endeavor a success before they get in the car the next day. So of course, things go wrong. Dean’s always warning Sam about getting too confident too soon in training, but messing this up hurts more than screwing up a fight and letting Dean land an extra hit. They drive around for four hours, Sam desperately trying to find the exits and street names on the roadmap, and he sees the confidence Dean has in him dim a little more every time he lifts his eyes.
Dean finally gets fed up and pulls over, snagging the map from Sam. He finds their spot within twenty seconds and steers the car back onto the road. Sam stares down and feels his heart sink when he realizes he was completely off-he never would have found the way to get them back on track.
Dean keeps driving for a while, humming along to the tape blaring from the Impala, completely oblivious to how miserable Sam is. It’s for the better, Sam thinks, he’d make fun if he knew Sam was letting something like this get to him. But when they finally get back to where Sam lost them and Dean unfolds the map, deciding where to turn next himself, Sam can’t help letting out a hurt sound.
Dean looks in his direction and makes a face like he just realized Sam was in the car.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Dean. It’s stupid.” Sam turns quickly towards the window, hiding his face and pretending to be fascinated by the barren landscape they’re passing.
Dean pulls over again and tugs on Sam’s hair until Sam turns to face him, swatting his hand away. Sam does his best to blink back the hurt tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.
“Sammy?”
“I just wanted to be good for something for once.”
Dean looks confused and then his eyes land on the map perched on the bench seat between them. He takes in the way Sam’s pushed himself as close to the window as he can, as if the folded up paper could burn him, and laughs.
“It’s not funny, Dean,” Sam says, not surprised Dean’s going to make a joke out of this, but heartbroken nonetheless.
“Seriously, come on, Sam. You’re doing fine.”
“I am not! I got us lost and I let you down and Dad was right that I’m too stupid to do anything on my own.”
“Sam, do you have any idea how hard it is to get us as far as you did with a dollar store map like this? Of course we got lost for a bit, it’s your first time. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I’m never going to be good at this like you are,” Sam blurts it out before he can think about it and instantly wants to take it back. Dean’s entire face melts and he’s quiet for a long time.
“Do you know what happened the first time I tried to help Dad get to a hunt?”
Sam shakes his head. Dean turns Sam’s face until he’s looking him straight in the eye.
“Sam, we got so lost, we ended up in the wrong state. Dad had to find an entirely different hunt just to save us from having to call the whole week a loss.”
“Really?” Sam asks, perking up a little. He’s pretty sure Dean is lying, but he still takes comfort in the story, in the way Dean tells it, self-deprecating and completely unashamed.
“Yup. He almost left me on the side of the road, he was so annoyed.”
Sam smiles at the mental picture: John turning red up to his ears, Dean waving goodbye as the Impala drove off into the sunset.
Dean picks up the map and hands it carefully to Sam, like it’s a delicate instrument that he has no right touching.
“You know, I’m still not much better at it, Sammy. If you don’t help me out here, we’ll end up in Alaska and Dad will be calling from Georgia, asking where the hell we are.”
Sam laughs and finds the next turn, alerting Dean just to have something to say. Dean smiles and starts the car again, joining the chorus of the Zeppelin song that blasts through the speakers without a care in the world.
Sam watches his brother, terror and affection warring inside of him. Sam thinks maybe this is what people are feeling when they talk about being in love.
II.
Sam doesn’t screw up again after that. Not for years. He spent the entire weekend Dad and Dean were hunting acquainting himself with the art of navigating a roadmap and the next time all three of them got in a car together, even John was impressed. After that, Sam became the default navigator and it’s one of the few parts of the job he enjoys.
Of course, like everything, it’s better when it’s just him and Dean. John’s presence makes Sam nervous, he doubts himself on things he wouldn’t normally question. It doesn’t help that, despite Sam’s flawless track record (John doesn’t know about the incident that first time because Dean made up a story about how it was his fault they got in later than they intended), John fights him on every instruction Sam gives.
“Turn right up ahead,” Sam says, bored and taking the fight that’s coming for granted.
“It’s not our exit yet, Sam. I’ve driven this stretch before.”
“Yeah, but you’ll save forty minutes if you take this exit and-”
“That’s not how I taught you to read a map. Short cuts are just going to get us lost, and then we’ll lose two hours trying to save forty minutes.”
“Dad, I’ve checked this route a hundred times.”
The fight goes on from there and continues-past Sam’s recommended exit and past John’s, too. They keep going for thirty minutes after they miss it and neither of them notices until Dean breaks into the argument and points out that they’re four exits past the one they’re fighting about.
“God dammit, Sam.” John stops the car. “Trade places with your brother. I need a co-pilot who can take instructions.”
Sam opens the door and can see that Dean’s about to say something, remind John that Sam knows what he’s doing. Sam isn’t really in the mood for it and at this point, he welcomes the chance to put some space between himself and his father-even if it’s just the difference between shotgun and the backseat. Sam shoves the map into Dean’s hands and holds the door open until his brother gets out and moves into the front seat.
There are plenty of things for Sam to do on the drive that will actually help with the hunt once they get to town, but Sam doesn’t really feel like being accommodating. He’s feeling dumpy and self-indulgent and he settles for watching his brother in the side view mirror.
Dean keeps his eyes trained on the map, always ready to answer Dad’s orders with a “Yes, sir.” Sam is both annoyed and sorry for his brother. He can’t help noticing the way the playful glint Dean always has when they’re driving to a hunt together is absent or how Dean’s mouth opens and then shuts every time John mumbles something about Sam and Dean neither agrees nor defends his brother, pissing both Sam and John off in his attempt at neutrality.
“Left up ahead,” Dean says and Sam looks up at the sign they’re passing advertising what is definitely not an exit they’re supposed to be taking. Sam is about to point this out when he realizes how Dean’s voice cracked on the directions. He’s nervous. He knows he’s getting them lost and Sam has no idea what his game is until John catches on an hour later and starts tearing him a new one. Dean flinches at John’s insults, but there’s a look of determined satisfaction on his face when John finally mutters that he should have let Sam navigate-at least Sam knew what he was doing.
When they stop for the night, Sam takes Dean by the arm as they’re unloading the car and pulls him away from where their father will hear them.
“You knew that turn was wrong,” he accuses.
Dean scoffs. “If I’d known it was wrong, I wouldn’t have told him to take it would I?” Dean puts enough conviction into his tone to fool anyone other than Sam, but Sam reads his body language and knows exactly what it means that Dean won’t meet his eyes.
“No, you did it on purpose. You did it because I screwed up.”
“That’s stupid, Sam. We both screwed up today, it happens. Don’t worry about it so much and leave me alone about it.”
“Dean, you shouldn’t have done that. Dad would kick your ass if he knew you got us lost on purpose.”
“At least he won’t…I had to, Sammy.” Dean turns away and makes it clear that the conversation is finished. Sam has to wonder if Dean isn’t a little bit in love, himself.
III.
The third time Sam gets them lost, he has no excuse. He’s got three years of experience, so it’s not like the first time and it’s just him and Dean-no fight distracting him to blame. Sam just, honest to God, reads the map wrong.
It’s worse than that, actually. Sam reads the map wrong and does not notice for twelve hours. Which essentially means that they waste an entire day because of Sam and Dean’s been driving for six straight hours when Sam tells him.
The Impala comes to a sudden stop right in the middle of the road and Dean turns to face Sam with steel in his eyes. Sam nearly cowers back into his seat.
“That’s a joke, right?”
“Um. No.”
“How the fuck do you let me keep driving for twelve fucking hours without catching on that we’re going in the wrong direction?”
“I guess I was distracted.” Sam shrugs. “I’m really sorry.”
“You were distracted? Sam, that’s not good enough. People could be dying and you just don’t feel like focusing on the map? How fucking old are you, man?”
Dean starts the car up again and turns around, but he only drives long enough for them to find somewhere to stop before parking off the side of the road.
“If I drive any more, I’m going to hurt someone. I need a break.”
“Want me to drive?”
“What, so you can get distracted and total my car? Fuck that, Sam. I’m going on a walk and you stay here and figure out how we’re going to get back to where we’re supposed to be. And call Dad and tell him we’re getting a motel. Your screw-up, you get to deal with him.”
Dean gets out without giving Sam a word in edgewise and Sam can’t even say Dean doesn’t have the right to be pissed, because this is pretty bad as far as stupid mistakes go and Sam knows every minute wasted means a life not saved in Dean’s fucked up view of the world. He watches his brother go and turns back to the map open in front of him, devoting himself to figuring out where and why he went wrong and seeing if there’s a way back on track that doesn’t involve first retracing their path for twelve hours.
Sam loses track of time and it’s a few hours before he’s figured everything out, picked out a new route, and dealt with the phone call to Dad. To Sam’s surprise, Dean doesn’t come back and rush him once and Sam finally gets tired of waiting for him to return and goes looking for him.
It’s not a long walk-45 minutes, maybe 50-before he spots Dean sitting off the path on some random pile of rocks he’s managed to find. He’s staring out at nothing and, the way the sun hits him, the look on Dean’s face when he’s lost in thought-Sam’s skin tingles looking at it. Dean doesn’t even realize Sam is approaching until he sits on the rock next to him and bumps his shoulder.
“Hey, man, I’m really, really sorry.”
Dean turns to look at him, an almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Nah, it’s alright. I’m sorry I blew up. I was stressed but, uh, I don’t know. This was kind of nice, you know? Having a day, just us and I guess if we had to get lost, this wasn’t such a bad place to do it.”
Sam looks out at the landscape Dean’s been watching and has to agree. The sun reflects off a still lake and there’s thick trees everywhere. Sam feels like they’re the only people on the planet. It’s a surprisingly reassuring thought.
“I’ll be more careful.”
“I know. You’re good at it, Sam, I trust you. Anyway, It’s not like I’ve never gotten us lost.” Dean kicks Sam’s leg playfully. “Nobody dies over a wrong turn.”
Dean’s face suddenly goes dark and Sam knows what he’s thinking. Maybe someone did.
“It’s not the end of the world if we make a wrong turn,” Sam supplies instead and Dean smiles and nods. Sam sees Dean’s fingers twitch, he actually thinks Dean is about to take his hand and lace their fingers for one perfect, improbable moment. Instead he reaches past where Sam’s hand is resting, just waiting for contact with Dean’s, and pats him on the leg.
“It’s gonna get dark on us, kid. We’d better go.”
Sam knows exactly what Dean’s doing and he hates him for it. The sun’s already started setting, but the colors cast gorgeous shadows on the lake and it’s beautiful. It’s romantic, and Sam knows Dean thinks so, too, or he wouldn’t be so determined to ruin the moment.
“You scared of the dark now, Dean?” Sam teases, leaning in. And, okay, maybe it’s not fair to put the moves on Dean right now, but Sam can’t convince himself it’s the wrong thing to do.
Dean puts one sturdy hand on each of Sam’s shoulders and pushes him back.
“Not of the dark, Sammy.”
With that, Dean stands up, a quick burst of energy that breaks Sam’s heart, like he’s compelled to get away from Sam just as much as Sam needs to stay close to him.
Sam shrugs it off and catches up with his brother, walking at his side. Dean smiles and glances over at him a few times, joking and carrying on, and doing everything he can to make sure Sam forgets how big of a fuck up he was earlier.
The sun sets behind them as they walk towards the Impala, pinks and purples coloring the sky and Sam can’t take his eyes off Dean, off how easy and at peace he looks. Sam hardly ever gets to see his brother like this anymore. When they finally reach the car-the 50 minute walk having stretched to well over an hour now that Dean took every chance to goof off and Sam couldn’t help himself from blurting every stupid thing he’s learned about the geology from science classes. Dean listens to all of it. What’s more, Dean cares-just because Sam’s saying it. That pushes Sam to try to think of more to say, he wants to prove to Dean that he’s smart, capable, not the kid Dean has to bail out of trouble.
When they get back to the car, the stars are out and Dean sends one wistful look up.
“If one fell, what would you wish for?” Sam doesn’t know why he asks it, what he expects Dean to say, but it falls out before he can shove it back in.
Dean looks back at Sam and licks his lips. “A really big pie,” Dean says, ruffling Sam’s hair.
Sam catches Dean’s hand before he can pull away and finally tangles their fingers like he’s been itching for all day.
“Or this.” Sam whispers it against his brother’s lips and to his surprise, Dean doesn’t shove away or punch him or do anything but let his whole body relax into the kiss.
Sam doesn’t hold it for long, just until he feels Dean’s lips surge out and return the pressure. Dean kisses him back: not for long, not deep or hungry like Sam would want, but it’s a kiss. Sam pulls his lips away and rests his forehead against Dean’s. Dean’s fingers are shaking when he comes up to trace Sam’s chin.
“Or that,” Dean says softly. Then he shakes his head and walks around the car, opening the door and slipping in. Just like that, the moment’s over, even while Sam’s lips are still wet with his brother’s taste.
IV.
After the kiss, things get awkward. Not even that, they don’t get a chance to get awkward. Dean pulls away, they spend three months living in the same two room dump and sharing a room and somehow Dean manages to avoid Sam like he’s the plague. They don’t talk much and they certainly don’t touch much and that works just fine as far as repression goes until they’re back in the Impala, moving on to the next place and Dean can’t avoid Sam, they have to sit there in each other’s space for hours.
“Okay, I think we’re lost,” Sam admits seven hours after getting in the car.
“Shit, how lost?”
“Not too lost. I just had the map upside down or something, told you to make a right a few streets back and it was a left.”
“Alright,” Dean says calmly. “Alright. Just tell me where to go to fix it.”
“Pull over first.”
“What?”
“Just pull over, okay?”
Dean looks at Sam like he’s speaking another language, but he does as he’s told and pulls over into a big empty field off the side of the road. Sam gets out of the car and takes a deep breath. He can smell dirt and grass and it’s refreshing after hours and hours of nothing but Dean, Dean, and more Dean bombarding all of his senses, making it impossible to think. Sam figures he needs just a few good moments to unwind and then he can get back in the car, but then he feels a big hand on his shoulder and there’s that smell again and Dean speaks, his voice rumbling through Sam’s body.
“Hey, you alright?”
Sam turns to face his brother.
“No, I can’t…I can’t concentrate on this today.” He hands Dean the map and Dean looks down at it, then back at Sam, that gorgeous bottom lip sucked behind his teeth.
“Why not?”
Sam wonders if this is the worst idea he’s ever had for all of five seconds before he decides, yes, it definitely is, and fuck, there’s no way in hell he’s stopping. He shoves past Dean, opening the back seat of the car and Dean quirks an eyebrow at him. Sam moves until he’s got Dean backed against the Impala and then pushes his brother hard, watching him fall back on the seat, his body half inside and half out.
“Sam, what are you-?”
Sam leans into the car, kissing Dean hard before he can finish the question. Sam’s tongue fights its way into Dean’s mouth, his cock shoved against Dean’s, and they’re both hard and that’s it-that’s all Sam can take.
He drags Dean a little bit more out of the car until his legs are planted on the ground and his back is pressed on the Impala’s seats.
Sam sinks to his knees and starts fighting with Dean’s jeans, unbuckling, unbuttoning-hell, he’s pretty impressed he doesn’t rip the fucking things to shreds.
“Tell me this is what you want, Dean.”
“Sam, please don’t make me sa-“
“Say it, say you want your baby brother on his knees for you. Say it.”
Dean gasps, his hips bucking up. “Oh, God. I do. I want it so fucking bad.”
“Say it.”
“Sammy, I want you on your knees, want you to suck me off. I wanna watch you swallow me. Oh, God, baby, I’m so sorry.”
Sam doesn’t pace himself, a pretty stupid move considering he’s never done this before and taking into account how swollen his big brother’s cock is, leaking precome and Dean can’t control his thrusting any more than Sam can control his mouth. He takes as much of Dean as he can hold and once he’s sure he can’t handle any more, he pushes himself even further.
Dean is groaning and fucking thrashing under him and there are hands tugging on Sam’s hair, apologizing and begging for more, until finally it’s just Sam’s name over and over and over and Sam gives up on trying to suck Dean and just lets him fuck his mouth. Sam’s got drool and precome sliding off his chin, down his throat, he doesn’t care. He wants more, he wants Dean’s come to join it, he wants Dean to lick everything he can’t swallow off his throat.
Sam’s body rocks with the rhythm and he can feel the soft earth under his knees through his pants. He gets a dirty thrill when he thinks about the grass stains he’ll have to lie to John about in a few hours, and groans. It’s that moan that makes Dean come down Sam’s throat without even warning him.
Sam swallows what he can, coughs up the rest, and Dean tugs him up by his hair, tongue tracing his lips and then greedily taking down what Sam couldn’t. Sam starts to fuck himself into Dean’s legs and it’s not long before he comes with a shout and collapses on top of Dean. Dean’s hands stroke down his back, soothing Sam through the aftershocks and then Sam kisses Dean one last time.
He gets so drunk on the kiss he has to pull away to steady himself and when he sees the smile on Dean’s face, he can’t help his own.
“Been wanting to do that for years, Dean,” Sam murmurs, burying his face in his brother’s neck. He feels Dean’s body freeze at the words, though, and his hands stop dead. He’s still holding Sam close to him, but suddenly the embrace is anything but sexual. He hears a broken sound come from his brother’s lips and he knows that, whatever Dean’s about to say, Sam’s not going to like it.
“What did I do to you? What the hell did I just fucking let you do?”
“Exactly what I wanted,” Sam says, trying to calm his brother with a kiss on the shell of his ear. Dean shakes his head.
He pushes Sam off him and hurries to tuck himself back in, doing his damnedest to ignore the evidence of what just happened.
“We have to go,” he says, starting the engine before Sam’s even gotten the shotgun door open.
“Dean, we have to talk about-“
Dean puts the music at full volume and drives as fast as he can. They get to their new home in a little more than half the time it should have taken. Dean takes the longest shower Sam can ever remember him taking and immediately goes to bed.
V.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean asks, fixing Sam with a furious look. “Didn’t you just get us lost last fucking week? Fuck, Sam. Are you gonna do this every time we go somewhere? I thought you were good at this.”
Sam smiles and keeps his head turned to his brother. They aren’t really lost, even if they’re not going in the direction Dean thought they were going in. Sam didn’t make a mistake this time; Sam knows exactly what he’s doing. Not that Dean has to know that.
“Park the car,” Sam says when they’re passing a nice, open space and Dean jumps in his seat.
“Why?” He asks, terrified.
“Please just trust me, Dean.” Dean doesn’t look completely satisfied with that, but one look at Sam’s pleading eyes has the car swerving into the field, parked right in the middle.
“Don’t…try anything, okay?”
Sam can’t help smirking at the way that Dean’s command sounds more like an invitation.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sam says, angelic expression as he leans in, lets his breath ghost Dean’s neck. He watches his brother shiver with lust but regrets it when he sees the self-loathing expression on Dean’s face. Sam reminds himself that that isn’t what this is about and gets out of the car.
Dean joins him after a minute or so, taking his place on the hood of the Impala. Sam lays his back on the windshield and looks up. They’re quiet for a long time, like they usually are, but Sam can’t concentrate on the stars tonight. He closes his eyes tight and tries to decide what to say. Dean is leaning over, looking right into Sam’s face when he blinks his eyes open.
“Hey there,” Sam says, a little startled by Dean’s proximity. Dean instantly sits back.
“Hi.”
“Dean, we need to talk.”
“Had a feeling this was a trap.”
“Yeah, well, I could navigate this road with my eyes closed, so.”
“So, here we are, not-really-lost in the middle of nowhere.”
Sam nods and looks away. For a long time there’s quiet again, but it’s not comfortable this time.
“You know, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Wow, I really hope you’ve got something better than that up your sleeve.”
“It’s true.”
“It’s not, Sam. I have everything to be ashamed of.”
Sam’s hands on Dean’s back are probably the last thing in the world that’ll help right now, but Sam can’t help himself and Dean leans into the touch.
“I thought…it was okay when it was just me, Sam. It was kind of nice. It really, really was, even if that doesn’t make any sense. The way I feel about you, when I never had to let you know…it was almost beautiful. Because. I don’t know, I’ve always been pretty screwed, but you. I thought you were gonna be okay. And then…you weren’t ever supposed to want this, Sammy. I wasn’t supposed to do that to you.”
“It’s still beautiful, Dean. It’s better like this, I promise. We can make this so good.”
“No way this can ever be anything but fucked-up, Sam. I was supposed to protect you. Shit, I was proud of that.”
“Dean.”
“I can’t. Please, just, don’t bring it up anymore, okay?”
“I’m not making that promise. It isn’t fair.”
“Then I guess there’s nothing left to talk about. It’s going to have to be like it’s been lately.” Dean shrugs, entirely defeated, and Sam gets pissed.
He reaches out for his brother and shoves him down on the hood, kissing him and trying to put everything he’s feeling into it because there has to be something-something-that will get his message across.
Dean’s hands flatten on Sam’s chest and there’s a hint of pressure that Sam knows is Dean attempting to force himself into pushing Sam away. The pressure dies in less than a second and then it’s fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in.
Sam smiles, can’t help smiling. Even as Dean’s sucking on his tongue and Sam’s entire mouth is pressed against his brother’s-his lips are still attempting to smile stupidly and Sam can’t make it stop. Dean’s hands move up, tangle in Sam’s hair and bring him closer. Sam can’t take in air on his own, but he’s got Dean’s breath and Dean’s got his. They stay like that for much longer than they should be able to before Sam breaks away and gasps for air, letting himself fall back on the windshield, resting next to Dean.
After a while, Dean props himself up on his side and caresses Sam’s cheek with the back of his fingers. Sam yawns at the touch and Dean smiles.
“You tired?”
“Yeah. I don’t wanna drive anymore.”
“Me neither,” Dean admits. “Hold on.”
Dean gets down from the car’s hood and in about three minutes, he’s ushering Sam to the back seat. There’s a bundled up jacket that’s supposed to pass for a pillow and a blanket that Sam’s been sleeping in for most of his life. He smiles.
“We’re not gonna fit.”
“Faith, man. You have to believe in the car, or how will she ever be able to believe in you?”
Sam rolls his eyes and crawls in on his side, making as much room for Dean as he can. Somehow, they do fit. Somehow, it’s not only comfortable, it’s home.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Sam/Dean
Genre: Five Times Fic, Schmoop, Flangst, Smut
Rating: NC-17 for Language and Explicit Sexual Content (teen!cest)
Word Count: 5,321
Author’s Note: I blame coyotesuspect, this was her idea. Alternately, I blame cacklesthewitch, she bullied me into it. Basically, I blame everyone except for me. Knocking out “sunset stroll” for Schmoop Bingo. Also hitting these clichés: “The Way We Were: Pre-Canon”, “First Times”, “Five Things”, and “Getting Away From It All (Roadtrip).” ETA 5/7/2013: Thanks to eos_rose, you can now read this in epub format here.
Summary: Four Times Sam Read the Map Wrong, and One He Didn't.
I.
Sam knows that Dad expects him to screw up. He’s 12, he’s not stupid, and he saw the way John looked him up and down before giving Dean the instructions. They aren’t supposed to meet up with him for a week and the drive won’t take longer than a day and a half. John tells Dean to leave three days early and sends one more unsupportive look in Sam’s direction, at the map clutched in his hand. He sees his father about to ask Dean if he’s sure again, but Dean smiles and gives Sam a pat on the back.
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll get there. I’ve got help this time.”
The face John makes can almost be taken as playful. He closes the door behind him, shaking his head as he goes, and Dean turns his smile towards Sam-it’s so confident that Sam almost believes Dean when he tells him he’s going to do great.
Sam stays up all night studying the twists and turns, marking out the best route, making sure he’s double checked every possibility and chosen the best path every time. It’s his first chance to prove himself to his brother and his dad.
He can’t go on the hunt yet-most of him will admit he doesn’t even want to. A vengeful spirit is one thing, but the thing Dad’s hunting…Sam can’t even remember what it’s called, all he knows is that there’s fear hidden in his brother’s features and Sam doesn’t want more details than that. Knowing that there are things in the world even Dean is scared of is bad enough.
But Sam’s on vacation and Dean doesn’t want to leave him behind by himself for a week. Of course, that’s not quite how Dean puts it; he spouts on about how Sam is getting too old to stay home on hunts, how he can help Dean on the road-the kind of thing John will listen to. Sam knows as well as Dean that he’ll still be sitting alone at the hotel while the fight is happening, but he can’t bring himself to point out the flaw in the plan, make Dean admit that, contrary to giving Sam more responsibility, he’s just smothering.
Sam lets him get away with it, but he takes his job seriously, too. He’s been watching Dean navigate his whole life, he’s even done it himself a few times, just never on a trip this long. Dean hands the maps over and doesn’t try to give him advice or nudge him in the right direction. He trusts Sam to get it right. Sam wants, more than anything, to earn that trust.
The first day goes smoothly-not only do they not get lost, Sam cuts the travel time down by three hours. Dean lets Sam pick the restaurant they have dinner in and when to stop for the night and even though they’re both arbitrary decisions (all motels and diners are pretty much the same on trips like this one), Sam’s stomach does stupid things when Dean looks at him, pride showing through every time his eyes slide over in Sam’s direction.
Sam’s already labeled the entire endeavor a success before they get in the car the next day. So of course, things go wrong. Dean’s always warning Sam about getting too confident too soon in training, but messing this up hurts more than screwing up a fight and letting Dean land an extra hit. They drive around for four hours, Sam desperately trying to find the exits and street names on the roadmap, and he sees the confidence Dean has in him dim a little more every time he lifts his eyes.
Dean finally gets fed up and pulls over, snagging the map from Sam. He finds their spot within twenty seconds and steers the car back onto the road. Sam stares down and feels his heart sink when he realizes he was completely off-he never would have found the way to get them back on track.
Dean keeps driving for a while, humming along to the tape blaring from the Impala, completely oblivious to how miserable Sam is. It’s for the better, Sam thinks, he’d make fun if he knew Sam was letting something like this get to him. But when they finally get back to where Sam lost them and Dean unfolds the map, deciding where to turn next himself, Sam can’t help letting out a hurt sound.
Dean looks in his direction and makes a face like he just realized Sam was in the car.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Dean. It’s stupid.” Sam turns quickly towards the window, hiding his face and pretending to be fascinated by the barren landscape they’re passing.
Dean pulls over again and tugs on Sam’s hair until Sam turns to face him, swatting his hand away. Sam does his best to blink back the hurt tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.
“Sammy?”
“I just wanted to be good for something for once.”
Dean looks confused and then his eyes land on the map perched on the bench seat between them. He takes in the way Sam’s pushed himself as close to the window as he can, as if the folded up paper could burn him, and laughs.
“It’s not funny, Dean,” Sam says, not surprised Dean’s going to make a joke out of this, but heartbroken nonetheless.
“Seriously, come on, Sam. You’re doing fine.”
“I am not! I got us lost and I let you down and Dad was right that I’m too stupid to do anything on my own.”
“Sam, do you have any idea how hard it is to get us as far as you did with a dollar store map like this? Of course we got lost for a bit, it’s your first time. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I’m never going to be good at this like you are,” Sam blurts it out before he can think about it and instantly wants to take it back. Dean’s entire face melts and he’s quiet for a long time.
“Do you know what happened the first time I tried to help Dad get to a hunt?”
Sam shakes his head. Dean turns Sam’s face until he’s looking him straight in the eye.
“Sam, we got so lost, we ended up in the wrong state. Dad had to find an entirely different hunt just to save us from having to call the whole week a loss.”
“Really?” Sam asks, perking up a little. He’s pretty sure Dean is lying, but he still takes comfort in the story, in the way Dean tells it, self-deprecating and completely unashamed.
“Yup. He almost left me on the side of the road, he was so annoyed.”
Sam smiles at the mental picture: John turning red up to his ears, Dean waving goodbye as the Impala drove off into the sunset.
Dean picks up the map and hands it carefully to Sam, like it’s a delicate instrument that he has no right touching.
“You know, I’m still not much better at it, Sammy. If you don’t help me out here, we’ll end up in Alaska and Dad will be calling from Georgia, asking where the hell we are.”
Sam laughs and finds the next turn, alerting Dean just to have something to say. Dean smiles and starts the car again, joining the chorus of the Zeppelin song that blasts through the speakers without a care in the world.
Sam watches his brother, terror and affection warring inside of him. Sam thinks maybe this is what people are feeling when they talk about being in love.
II.
Sam doesn’t screw up again after that. Not for years. He spent the entire weekend Dad and Dean were hunting acquainting himself with the art of navigating a roadmap and the next time all three of them got in a car together, even John was impressed. After that, Sam became the default navigator and it’s one of the few parts of the job he enjoys.
Of course, like everything, it’s better when it’s just him and Dean. John’s presence makes Sam nervous, he doubts himself on things he wouldn’t normally question. It doesn’t help that, despite Sam’s flawless track record (John doesn’t know about the incident that first time because Dean made up a story about how it was his fault they got in later than they intended), John fights him on every instruction Sam gives.
“Turn right up ahead,” Sam says, bored and taking the fight that’s coming for granted.
“It’s not our exit yet, Sam. I’ve driven this stretch before.”
“Yeah, but you’ll save forty minutes if you take this exit and-”
“That’s not how I taught you to read a map. Short cuts are just going to get us lost, and then we’ll lose two hours trying to save forty minutes.”
“Dad, I’ve checked this route a hundred times.”
The fight goes on from there and continues-past Sam’s recommended exit and past John’s, too. They keep going for thirty minutes after they miss it and neither of them notices until Dean breaks into the argument and points out that they’re four exits past the one they’re fighting about.
“God dammit, Sam.” John stops the car. “Trade places with your brother. I need a co-pilot who can take instructions.”
Sam opens the door and can see that Dean’s about to say something, remind John that Sam knows what he’s doing. Sam isn’t really in the mood for it and at this point, he welcomes the chance to put some space between himself and his father-even if it’s just the difference between shotgun and the backseat. Sam shoves the map into Dean’s hands and holds the door open until his brother gets out and moves into the front seat.
There are plenty of things for Sam to do on the drive that will actually help with the hunt once they get to town, but Sam doesn’t really feel like being accommodating. He’s feeling dumpy and self-indulgent and he settles for watching his brother in the side view mirror.
Dean keeps his eyes trained on the map, always ready to answer Dad’s orders with a “Yes, sir.” Sam is both annoyed and sorry for his brother. He can’t help noticing the way the playful glint Dean always has when they’re driving to a hunt together is absent or how Dean’s mouth opens and then shuts every time John mumbles something about Sam and Dean neither agrees nor defends his brother, pissing both Sam and John off in his attempt at neutrality.
“Left up ahead,” Dean says and Sam looks up at the sign they’re passing advertising what is definitely not an exit they’re supposed to be taking. Sam is about to point this out when he realizes how Dean’s voice cracked on the directions. He’s nervous. He knows he’s getting them lost and Sam has no idea what his game is until John catches on an hour later and starts tearing him a new one. Dean flinches at John’s insults, but there’s a look of determined satisfaction on his face when John finally mutters that he should have let Sam navigate-at least Sam knew what he was doing.
When they stop for the night, Sam takes Dean by the arm as they’re unloading the car and pulls him away from where their father will hear them.
“You knew that turn was wrong,” he accuses.
Dean scoffs. “If I’d known it was wrong, I wouldn’t have told him to take it would I?” Dean puts enough conviction into his tone to fool anyone other than Sam, but Sam reads his body language and knows exactly what it means that Dean won’t meet his eyes.
“No, you did it on purpose. You did it because I screwed up.”
“That’s stupid, Sam. We both screwed up today, it happens. Don’t worry about it so much and leave me alone about it.”
“Dean, you shouldn’t have done that. Dad would kick your ass if he knew you got us lost on purpose.”
“At least he won’t…I had to, Sammy.” Dean turns away and makes it clear that the conversation is finished. Sam has to wonder if Dean isn’t a little bit in love, himself.
III.
The third time Sam gets them lost, he has no excuse. He’s got three years of experience, so it’s not like the first time and it’s just him and Dean-no fight distracting him to blame. Sam just, honest to God, reads the map wrong.
It’s worse than that, actually. Sam reads the map wrong and does not notice for twelve hours. Which essentially means that they waste an entire day because of Sam and Dean’s been driving for six straight hours when Sam tells him.
The Impala comes to a sudden stop right in the middle of the road and Dean turns to face Sam with steel in his eyes. Sam nearly cowers back into his seat.
“That’s a joke, right?”
“Um. No.”
“How the fuck do you let me keep driving for twelve fucking hours without catching on that we’re going in the wrong direction?”
“I guess I was distracted.” Sam shrugs. “I’m really sorry.”
“You were distracted? Sam, that’s not good enough. People could be dying and you just don’t feel like focusing on the map? How fucking old are you, man?”
Dean starts the car up again and turns around, but he only drives long enough for them to find somewhere to stop before parking off the side of the road.
“If I drive any more, I’m going to hurt someone. I need a break.”
“Want me to drive?”
“What, so you can get distracted and total my car? Fuck that, Sam. I’m going on a walk and you stay here and figure out how we’re going to get back to where we’re supposed to be. And call Dad and tell him we’re getting a motel. Your screw-up, you get to deal with him.”
Dean gets out without giving Sam a word in edgewise and Sam can’t even say Dean doesn’t have the right to be pissed, because this is pretty bad as far as stupid mistakes go and Sam knows every minute wasted means a life not saved in Dean’s fucked up view of the world. He watches his brother go and turns back to the map open in front of him, devoting himself to figuring out where and why he went wrong and seeing if there’s a way back on track that doesn’t involve first retracing their path for twelve hours.
Sam loses track of time and it’s a few hours before he’s figured everything out, picked out a new route, and dealt with the phone call to Dad. To Sam’s surprise, Dean doesn’t come back and rush him once and Sam finally gets tired of waiting for him to return and goes looking for him.
It’s not a long walk-45 minutes, maybe 50-before he spots Dean sitting off the path on some random pile of rocks he’s managed to find. He’s staring out at nothing and, the way the sun hits him, the look on Dean’s face when he’s lost in thought-Sam’s skin tingles looking at it. Dean doesn’t even realize Sam is approaching until he sits on the rock next to him and bumps his shoulder.
“Hey, man, I’m really, really sorry.”
Dean turns to look at him, an almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Nah, it’s alright. I’m sorry I blew up. I was stressed but, uh, I don’t know. This was kind of nice, you know? Having a day, just us and I guess if we had to get lost, this wasn’t such a bad place to do it.”
Sam looks out at the landscape Dean’s been watching and has to agree. The sun reflects off a still lake and there’s thick trees everywhere. Sam feels like they’re the only people on the planet. It’s a surprisingly reassuring thought.
“I’ll be more careful.”
“I know. You’re good at it, Sam, I trust you. Anyway, It’s not like I’ve never gotten us lost.” Dean kicks Sam’s leg playfully. “Nobody dies over a wrong turn.”
Dean’s face suddenly goes dark and Sam knows what he’s thinking. Maybe someone did.
“It’s not the end of the world if we make a wrong turn,” Sam supplies instead and Dean smiles and nods. Sam sees Dean’s fingers twitch, he actually thinks Dean is about to take his hand and lace their fingers for one perfect, improbable moment. Instead he reaches past where Sam’s hand is resting, just waiting for contact with Dean’s, and pats him on the leg.
“It’s gonna get dark on us, kid. We’d better go.”
Sam knows exactly what Dean’s doing and he hates him for it. The sun’s already started setting, but the colors cast gorgeous shadows on the lake and it’s beautiful. It’s romantic, and Sam knows Dean thinks so, too, or he wouldn’t be so determined to ruin the moment.
“You scared of the dark now, Dean?” Sam teases, leaning in. And, okay, maybe it’s not fair to put the moves on Dean right now, but Sam can’t convince himself it’s the wrong thing to do.
Dean puts one sturdy hand on each of Sam’s shoulders and pushes him back.
“Not of the dark, Sammy.”
With that, Dean stands up, a quick burst of energy that breaks Sam’s heart, like he’s compelled to get away from Sam just as much as Sam needs to stay close to him.
Sam shrugs it off and catches up with his brother, walking at his side. Dean smiles and glances over at him a few times, joking and carrying on, and doing everything he can to make sure Sam forgets how big of a fuck up he was earlier.
The sun sets behind them as they walk towards the Impala, pinks and purples coloring the sky and Sam can’t take his eyes off Dean, off how easy and at peace he looks. Sam hardly ever gets to see his brother like this anymore. When they finally reach the car-the 50 minute walk having stretched to well over an hour now that Dean took every chance to goof off and Sam couldn’t help himself from blurting every stupid thing he’s learned about the geology from science classes. Dean listens to all of it. What’s more, Dean cares-just because Sam’s saying it. That pushes Sam to try to think of more to say, he wants to prove to Dean that he’s smart, capable, not the kid Dean has to bail out of trouble.
When they get back to the car, the stars are out and Dean sends one wistful look up.
“If one fell, what would you wish for?” Sam doesn’t know why he asks it, what he expects Dean to say, but it falls out before he can shove it back in.
Dean looks back at Sam and licks his lips. “A really big pie,” Dean says, ruffling Sam’s hair.
Sam catches Dean’s hand before he can pull away and finally tangles their fingers like he’s been itching for all day.
“Or this.” Sam whispers it against his brother’s lips and to his surprise, Dean doesn’t shove away or punch him or do anything but let his whole body relax into the kiss.
Sam doesn’t hold it for long, just until he feels Dean’s lips surge out and return the pressure. Dean kisses him back: not for long, not deep or hungry like Sam would want, but it’s a kiss. Sam pulls his lips away and rests his forehead against Dean’s. Dean’s fingers are shaking when he comes up to trace Sam’s chin.
“Or that,” Dean says softly. Then he shakes his head and walks around the car, opening the door and slipping in. Just like that, the moment’s over, even while Sam’s lips are still wet with his brother’s taste.
IV.
After the kiss, things get awkward. Not even that, they don’t get a chance to get awkward. Dean pulls away, they spend three months living in the same two room dump and sharing a room and somehow Dean manages to avoid Sam like he’s the plague. They don’t talk much and they certainly don’t touch much and that works just fine as far as repression goes until they’re back in the Impala, moving on to the next place and Dean can’t avoid Sam, they have to sit there in each other’s space for hours.
“Okay, I think we’re lost,” Sam admits seven hours after getting in the car.
“Shit, how lost?”
“Not too lost. I just had the map upside down or something, told you to make a right a few streets back and it was a left.”
“Alright,” Dean says calmly. “Alright. Just tell me where to go to fix it.”
“Pull over first.”
“What?”
“Just pull over, okay?”
Dean looks at Sam like he’s speaking another language, but he does as he’s told and pulls over into a big empty field off the side of the road. Sam gets out of the car and takes a deep breath. He can smell dirt and grass and it’s refreshing after hours and hours of nothing but Dean, Dean, and more Dean bombarding all of his senses, making it impossible to think. Sam figures he needs just a few good moments to unwind and then he can get back in the car, but then he feels a big hand on his shoulder and there’s that smell again and Dean speaks, his voice rumbling through Sam’s body.
“Hey, you alright?”
Sam turns to face his brother.
“No, I can’t…I can’t concentrate on this today.” He hands Dean the map and Dean looks down at it, then back at Sam, that gorgeous bottom lip sucked behind his teeth.
“Why not?”
Sam wonders if this is the worst idea he’s ever had for all of five seconds before he decides, yes, it definitely is, and fuck, there’s no way in hell he’s stopping. He shoves past Dean, opening the back seat of the car and Dean quirks an eyebrow at him. Sam moves until he’s got Dean backed against the Impala and then pushes his brother hard, watching him fall back on the seat, his body half inside and half out.
“Sam, what are you-?”
Sam leans into the car, kissing Dean hard before he can finish the question. Sam’s tongue fights its way into Dean’s mouth, his cock shoved against Dean’s, and they’re both hard and that’s it-that’s all Sam can take.
He drags Dean a little bit more out of the car until his legs are planted on the ground and his back is pressed on the Impala’s seats.
Sam sinks to his knees and starts fighting with Dean’s jeans, unbuckling, unbuttoning-hell, he’s pretty impressed he doesn’t rip the fucking things to shreds.
“Tell me this is what you want, Dean.”
“Sam, please don’t make me sa-“
“Say it, say you want your baby brother on his knees for you. Say it.”
Dean gasps, his hips bucking up. “Oh, God. I do. I want it so fucking bad.”
“Say it.”
“Sammy, I want you on your knees, want you to suck me off. I wanna watch you swallow me. Oh, God, baby, I’m so sorry.”
Sam doesn’t pace himself, a pretty stupid move considering he’s never done this before and taking into account how swollen his big brother’s cock is, leaking precome and Dean can’t control his thrusting any more than Sam can control his mouth. He takes as much of Dean as he can hold and once he’s sure he can’t handle any more, he pushes himself even further.
Dean is groaning and fucking thrashing under him and there are hands tugging on Sam’s hair, apologizing and begging for more, until finally it’s just Sam’s name over and over and over and Sam gives up on trying to suck Dean and just lets him fuck his mouth. Sam’s got drool and precome sliding off his chin, down his throat, he doesn’t care. He wants more, he wants Dean’s come to join it, he wants Dean to lick everything he can’t swallow off his throat.
Sam’s body rocks with the rhythm and he can feel the soft earth under his knees through his pants. He gets a dirty thrill when he thinks about the grass stains he’ll have to lie to John about in a few hours, and groans. It’s that moan that makes Dean come down Sam’s throat without even warning him.
Sam swallows what he can, coughs up the rest, and Dean tugs him up by his hair, tongue tracing his lips and then greedily taking down what Sam couldn’t. Sam starts to fuck himself into Dean’s legs and it’s not long before he comes with a shout and collapses on top of Dean. Dean’s hands stroke down his back, soothing Sam through the aftershocks and then Sam kisses Dean one last time.
He gets so drunk on the kiss he has to pull away to steady himself and when he sees the smile on Dean’s face, he can’t help his own.
“Been wanting to do that for years, Dean,” Sam murmurs, burying his face in his brother’s neck. He feels Dean’s body freeze at the words, though, and his hands stop dead. He’s still holding Sam close to him, but suddenly the embrace is anything but sexual. He hears a broken sound come from his brother’s lips and he knows that, whatever Dean’s about to say, Sam’s not going to like it.
“What did I do to you? What the hell did I just fucking let you do?”
“Exactly what I wanted,” Sam says, trying to calm his brother with a kiss on the shell of his ear. Dean shakes his head.
He pushes Sam off him and hurries to tuck himself back in, doing his damnedest to ignore the evidence of what just happened.
“We have to go,” he says, starting the engine before Sam’s even gotten the shotgun door open.
“Dean, we have to talk about-“
Dean puts the music at full volume and drives as fast as he can. They get to their new home in a little more than half the time it should have taken. Dean takes the longest shower Sam can ever remember him taking and immediately goes to bed.
V.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean asks, fixing Sam with a furious look. “Didn’t you just get us lost last fucking week? Fuck, Sam. Are you gonna do this every time we go somewhere? I thought you were good at this.”
Sam smiles and keeps his head turned to his brother. They aren’t really lost, even if they’re not going in the direction Dean thought they were going in. Sam didn’t make a mistake this time; Sam knows exactly what he’s doing. Not that Dean has to know that.
“Park the car,” Sam says when they’re passing a nice, open space and Dean jumps in his seat.
“Why?” He asks, terrified.
“Please just trust me, Dean.” Dean doesn’t look completely satisfied with that, but one look at Sam’s pleading eyes has the car swerving into the field, parked right in the middle.
“Don’t…try anything, okay?”
Sam can’t help smirking at the way that Dean’s command sounds more like an invitation.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sam says, angelic expression as he leans in, lets his breath ghost Dean’s neck. He watches his brother shiver with lust but regrets it when he sees the self-loathing expression on Dean’s face. Sam reminds himself that that isn’t what this is about and gets out of the car.
Dean joins him after a minute or so, taking his place on the hood of the Impala. Sam lays his back on the windshield and looks up. They’re quiet for a long time, like they usually are, but Sam can’t concentrate on the stars tonight. He closes his eyes tight and tries to decide what to say. Dean is leaning over, looking right into Sam’s face when he blinks his eyes open.
“Hey there,” Sam says, a little startled by Dean’s proximity. Dean instantly sits back.
“Hi.”
“Dean, we need to talk.”
“Had a feeling this was a trap.”
“Yeah, well, I could navigate this road with my eyes closed, so.”
“So, here we are, not-really-lost in the middle of nowhere.”
Sam nods and looks away. For a long time there’s quiet again, but it’s not comfortable this time.
“You know, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Wow, I really hope you’ve got something better than that up your sleeve.”
“It’s true.”
“It’s not, Sam. I have everything to be ashamed of.”
Sam’s hands on Dean’s back are probably the last thing in the world that’ll help right now, but Sam can’t help himself and Dean leans into the touch.
“I thought…it was okay when it was just me, Sam. It was kind of nice. It really, really was, even if that doesn’t make any sense. The way I feel about you, when I never had to let you know…it was almost beautiful. Because. I don’t know, I’ve always been pretty screwed, but you. I thought you were gonna be okay. And then…you weren’t ever supposed to want this, Sammy. I wasn’t supposed to do that to you.”
“It’s still beautiful, Dean. It’s better like this, I promise. We can make this so good.”
“No way this can ever be anything but fucked-up, Sam. I was supposed to protect you. Shit, I was proud of that.”
“Dean.”
“I can’t. Please, just, don’t bring it up anymore, okay?”
“I’m not making that promise. It isn’t fair.”
“Then I guess there’s nothing left to talk about. It’s going to have to be like it’s been lately.” Dean shrugs, entirely defeated, and Sam gets pissed.
He reaches out for his brother and shoves him down on the hood, kissing him and trying to put everything he’s feeling into it because there has to be something-something-that will get his message across.
Dean’s hands flatten on Sam’s chest and there’s a hint of pressure that Sam knows is Dean attempting to force himself into pushing Sam away. The pressure dies in less than a second and then it’s fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him in.
Sam smiles, can’t help smiling. Even as Dean’s sucking on his tongue and Sam’s entire mouth is pressed against his brother’s-his lips are still attempting to smile stupidly and Sam can’t make it stop. Dean’s hands move up, tangle in Sam’s hair and bring him closer. Sam can’t take in air on his own, but he’s got Dean’s breath and Dean’s got his. They stay like that for much longer than they should be able to before Sam breaks away and gasps for air, letting himself fall back on the windshield, resting next to Dean.
After a while, Dean props himself up on his side and caresses Sam’s cheek with the back of his fingers. Sam yawns at the touch and Dean smiles.
“You tired?”
“Yeah. I don’t wanna drive anymore.”
“Me neither,” Dean admits. “Hold on.”
Dean gets down from the car’s hood and in about three minutes, he’s ushering Sam to the back seat. There’s a bundled up jacket that’s supposed to pass for a pillow and a blanket that Sam’s been sleeping in for most of his life. He smiles.
“We’re not gonna fit.”
“Faith, man. You have to believe in the car, or how will she ever be able to believe in you?”
Sam rolls his eyes and crawls in on his side, making as much room for Dean as he can. Somehow, they do fit. Somehow, it’s not only comfortable, it’s home.