Take the Long Way Home

[loco_lobo]

Take the Long Way Home

Chapter 3
Chapter Wordcount: 4445

“Jesus Sammy,” Dean hissed, wrapping his arm around his shoulders as he kicked the motel room door open. “C’mon, I got ya,” he mumbled, leading them over to the spare bed and helping him sit down.

“Shit,” he whispered, watching as Sam’s face pinched in pain. “C’mon, help me get your shirt off dude,” he said softly, helping Sam pull his arms through the sleeves and wishing he had just cut the damn thing off when Sam winced.

He disappeared back outside and Sam heard the creak of the Impala’s door before it slammed shut and Dean came thundering back inside, slamming the motel room behind him.

There was a pounding on the wall, obviously whoever had the room next to them was not appreciative of all the slamming doors at o’clock in the morning.



“Fuck off!” Dean yelled, hitting his knees in front of Sam and yanking viciously on the zipper of their first aid bag.

Sam laughed lightly, his arm wrapped around his ribs and felt better when Dean glanced up at him under his lashes and smirked.

“Alright, lemme see,” Dean mumbled, pushing Sam’s arm away to take stock of the damage.

There was a pretty slash across his collarbone that despite bleeding like a stuck pig didn’t look to need stitches and there was an impressive bruise starting to bloom across his ribs.

Dean gingerly felt around his stomach, mumbling an apology whenever he’d hit a sore spot and hear Sam hiss. He grabbed some peroxide and a cloth from the bag and wiped away the majority of the blood, letting out a breath when it didn’t look as bad as it originally had. He felt around the ball of his shoulder, eyeing the way Sam was holding his arm but again, couldn’t find more than bruising.

“Goddamnit Sam,” he whispered and Sam opened his eyes to look at him, swallowing hard when Dean reached up and pulled him down to rest his forehead against his. “You scared the crap outta me.”

Sam reached forward, letting his hand fall warm on Dean’s shoulder, thumb slotting itself in the groove of his collar bone.

“We gotta stop going on these kamikaze missions for each other,” he mumbled, eyes closed as he held Sam close to him.

“I’m never gonna not try to keep you safe Dean,” Sam said quietly, watching as Dean opened his eyes to look at him.

“Me either,” he finally said, lips tugging into a smirk.

“You alright?” he asked, hand sliding down Dean’s arm to poke at the rip in his jacket.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” he mumbled, hand unconsciously gripping Sam’s neck tighter.

He blinked his eyes back open and stared at Sam for a moment before he leaned in and just barely grazed a kiss across the corner of Sam’s lips before automatically pulling back.

Sam made a noise in the back of his throat and slipped his own hand to the back of Dean’s neck, nerves jittery and tense but knowing he didn’t want Dean to pull away.

“Don’t...” he whispered.

“Sam...”

“Don’t,” he said again, softly but without the same hesitation as before and he opened his eyes to stare at Dean.

Dean leaned in again hesitantly, eyes flicking between Sam’s eyes and his lips and Sam closed the gap between them, soft press of chapped lips.

Dean held the contact for a split second, one hand on the back of Sam’s neck, one on his knee, his fingers digging into the denim before he pulled back again and pulled in an uneven breath, closing his eyes, nose bumping against Sam’s.

When he finally opened his eyes again Sam was staring at him, his thumb sweeping across the stubble on his cheek, gaze falling to his lips before snapping back to his eyes.

Sam leaned in, his fingers tightening around Dean’s neck as if to make sure he couldn’t pull back.

The kiss was chaste, just a tentative press of lips but was way more intimate than the peck you would give your mom or an aunt. And when Sam inhaled shakily Dean could feel the air dance across his lips.

“We shouldn’t...” he mumbled, staring at the Sam’s parted lips and made a move to rock back onto his heels.

Sam’s fingers tightened around his neck almost painfully and his other hand came up to dig into his bicep. The move caused him to wince in pain and Dean froze in his tracks.

“Sammy?”

He smiled softly, “I’m alright, just moved too fast.”

“Jesus Sam,” Dean whispered, his hand sliding down to cup Sam’s cheek and he sighed when Sam leaned into the touch and looked at him expectantly.

“Gotta put...put this away,” he said quietly, hand dropping to grab the first aid bag in a white knuckled grip and he forced his legs to make him stand.

“Dean...”

“I’ll be right back Sammy,” he murmured, heading to the bathroom and shutting the door quietly behind him.

When he finally stopped shaking and found enough courage to open the door again Sam had slipped into bed, curled onto his side, with his arm wrapped around his waist. Dean’s stomach did a flip at the sudden need to just go comfort Sam, overlaid with the nerves from before.

Sam cracked his eyes open when the bathroom door squeaked and Dean was just a little bit jealous at how downright calm he looked, he should at least be half as shot to hell at Dean was over the kiss. Over their kiss.

Dean was tempted to be a coward and climb into the spare bed but considering they had been sleeping together for months he knew that plan was flawed. The only thing it would result in was an uncomfortable conversation that he wouldn’t be able to deflect thanks to his genius ‘no walls’ idea and neither of them would succeed in getting any sleep.

And yeah, okay, that was probably going to happen if he slipped in bed with Sam anyways, but then at least he would be with Sam, have his comfortable warmth and scent and presence right there beside him for this existential crisis.

And Dean was so not going to dwell on the fact that curling up with the same brother he had just kissed was the more tempting of the two options.

“Dean,” Sam said softly, snapping him out of the daze he had been in.

He reached behind him and snapped the light off in the bathroom, flooding the room in darkness and hesitantly and with a little more trouble than normal, stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt before pulling back the covers on the bed.

Sam let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, a small part of him afraid Dean would take the out and sleep in the spare bed.

“Look Sam...” Dean said softly after an uncomfortable silence.

“How ‘bout you think about it before you automatically shoot it down?”

Dean turned his head in surprise, staring at the shadow and faint outline of Sam, backlit with the window, some sort of pinkish yellow hue coming from the crappy florescent lights outside.

“Sam...” he started again.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re brothers.”

“So.”

“So? Sam...”

“It’s just a way to show affection.”

Dean turned to look at him, eyebrow arched as he tried to hold back a laugh.

“That was lame dude,” he grinned when Sam smiled at him.

“Why not? Seriously. After everything we’ve been through, all the shit we have to deal with, why can’t we have something between us?”

Dean swallowed hard, looking away from Sam’s eyes, even if he couldn’t exactly see them in the dark.

“Dean,” Sam said softly, hand reaching up to cup his cheek and Dean closed his eyes at the way his spine shivered, leaning into the touch. “It’s just us.”

“Sammy...” he whispered. “You’re everything to me, always have been,” he forced out past the lump in his throat. “I’m not...I don’t want to...”

“You’re not forcing me, if that’s what you’re thinking. You’re not brainwashing me, you’re not taking advantage of me. I’m a big boy, I can make my own decisions. And yeah, I realize this is pretty fucked up, but since when were we ever not?”

Dean watched him, trying to breathe past the stitch in his chest.

“All I know,” Sam finally said after a beat of silence. “Is the way I felt when you kissed me. And I know I don’t wanna go the rest of my life without feeling that way again,” he finished softly.

Dean pulled in a breath and closed his eyes again. This wasn’t ‘pretty fucked up’ this was a mile down the road from ‘pretty fucked up’ and around the left hand turn in the road, but damn him if he didn’t wanna pull Sam up against him and map his lips with his own.

“You’re everything to me Dean. I’m past that shit with Dad, don’t get me wrong, but you were more of a parent than he ever was. You’re my brother...and my dad, and mom,” he grinned when Dean sent him a half hearted glare. “You’re my teacher and mentor, trainer and hero. You’re my best friend, you’re everything,” he said softly. “You always have been.”

Dean swallowed hard.

“Then why’d you leave?” he asked softly, not caring how weak and broken he sounded.

Sam’s hand slipped, fingers dragging over the thin fabric of his t-shirt and Sam stared at Dean’s chest where his fingertips came to settle over the steady thump of Dean’s heart.

“I didn’t want to. I just wanted to go to school, I never...I never wanted it, it was never supposed to go down like it did. I just wanted to go, hook up with you guys whenever I had break. It was never supposed to be so cut off. I never...I never wanted to leave you Dean...never.”

“I called you for six months Sammy,” Dean whispered, voice breaking as he forced himself to finally confront the thought that had been a slow burn in the back of his mind ever since the door slammed behind Sam on the day he walked out. “You never picked up, not once, never called back.”

“I was scared.”

“Of what?!” Dean squawked.

“You. Of you asking me to come back. God Dean, I was so alone when I got there. I thought I could just bullshit and fit right in, I mean, that’s what we do right? But I was the weird kid that didn’t know anybody and didn’t have anything. I missed you, I...I missed home. And I was so scared that you were going to ask me to come back, all you would have had to do was ask me to come back,” he trailed off softly. “And I would have dropped everything and ran.”

Dean watched him, eyes bouncing back and forth between Sam’s, his hand coming up to cup the knob of Sam’s elbow when his voice cracked with emotion, his thumb sweeping back and forth over the cord of muscle.

“I never would have done that,” he murmured. “That’s what you wanted Sammy, to go to school...I never would have asked you to walk away from it.”

Sam stared at him for a moment.

“Maybe you wouldn’t have had to,” he said quietly. “God, you have no idea how much I missed you. I couldn’t even bring myself to listen to any of your messages until classes started. Used the fact that I was spending the scholarship money to guilt trip myself into staying after I heard your voice.”

Dean sighed, felt the pressure of Sam’s hand increase as his chest expanded against his palm.

“We okay?” Sam finally asked, tearing his eyes away from his own hand to look back up at Dean from under his bangs.

Dean could feel his hand shift, pulling the fabric of his shirt away from his chest as Sam curled it around his fingers and managed to nod slowly.

“You sure?” he asked quietly, letting his eyes fall to Sam’s lips.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

Dean sighed again before letting his hand slip up to Sam’s cheek, tilting his head until he could seal his lips over Sam’s.

It was still awkward, they bumped noses until they figured out how to move against each other but after a few tentative grazes they were pressing their lips together more firmly, pulling back to look at each other for a split second before kissing again. It wasn’t always soft, wasn’t always held back and guarded but it was always chaste. Whether it was subconscious or not neither one of them let their tongue slip out, content at the slightly dry press of lips between them.




When Sam woke up he froze, immediately noticing the lack of warmth behind him and his eyes shot over to the spare bed.

He sighed when he saw his blood soaked shirt piled on the corner, the sheets still made and smooth except for where they were wrinkled from when Sam had collapsed onto it the night before.

The toilet flushed in the bathroom and his eyes shot up to see Dean come out fully dressed.

“Hey...didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’alright,” Sam mumbled, sitting up and digging at his eye.

“Why don’t you take a shower, I’m just gonna go gas up the car and then I figured we could head into town and hit up that diner that promised homemade pie,” he grinned waggling his eyebrows and Sam couldn’t help but laugh, whatever knot of tension he had in his stomach over the night before untying itself under the force of Dean’s smile.

“Sounds good,” he finally grinned, nodding before looking up at Dean as he slipped his arms into his leather jacket and snatched the keys off the table.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a few,” he said coming over to him and bending down to kiss him on the lips before heading to the door in one quick smooth movement that left Sam stunned that it had even happened. At how easily it had happened.

He heard the door click shut behind him and turned his head over his shoulder to see Dean twist in his seat in the car as he backed the Impala out of the parking space and Sam couldn’t help but smile.




The first couple weeks Dean let Sam instigate everything. Sam figured it had something to do with making sure Sam wanted this new thing between them, making sure he wasn’t forcing the issue. The only thing that Dean wouldn’t hesitate on was the quick goodbye kisses he would give before one of them went out.

Sam was tempted to tease him on it, on how domestic it all was but everything had shifted back when they had started sharing the same bed and it was like everything had shifted all over again and Sam couldn’t bring himself to tease about it. Not when he found himself thinking about crawling into bed with Dean at the end of the day and finally being able to relax.

It was like finally his life wasn’t hunting and research and blood and pain. Instead of living for the next fight, fighting to live the next day it was suddenly waiting for the next time they could let their guard down. Waiting for the next night when he could curl up against Dean, let his lips play over his. Waiting the next 500 miles just to see how long it would be before Dean stretched his arm out over the seat and buried his fingers into the hair at Sam’s neck, shooting him a sideways look and grin.

When the one year anniversary of Dean’s death started to roll around Sam let the research go a bit. He didn’t pick up every newspaper in town when they stopped, didn’t open up his laptop as soon as they got to the room. And Dean didn’t say anything about it.

They took it easy those last couple months, spending more time curled in bed together trading kisses and whispered conversation than they did on the road hunting.

Sam’s birthday rolled around next and Dean literally dragged him to the nearest mall, treating him to a shopping spree courtesy of Barry Garlow’s brand new MasterCard. Most of Sam’s clothes were at the point where they either had holes in them or had been stained by some substance neither of them wanted to contemplate.




Dean tossed the last pair of jeans at Sam, stuffing all the tags he had just cut off into one of the empty plastic bags.

“I’m gonna go get us some dinner, cool?”

Sam looked up from where he was pulling a size sticker off one of his new shirts.

“Yeah.”

“Anything you want?”

Sam shrugged, “Naw, whatever’s cool.”

“Alright,” Dean said, shrugging on his jacket and pulling the Impala’s keys from his pocket, before bending down to kiss Sam.

“I’ll be back in a few.”

“Alright,” Sam said, snapping off another tag as the door shut.




“Hey,” Dean grinned, coming back in the door a half hour later with his hands full of bags.

“Whatdya get?”

“A surprise,” Dean smirked, dumping the bags onto the small side table before pulling out three styrofoam boxes.

He slumped down onto the bed beside Sam holding out one of the boxes and setting the third one down in front of them, popping the top and showing off the still steaming buttery cheese-garlic biscuits inside.

“Oh man, you went to Red Lobster?” Sam groaned.

“Yup,” Dean laughed, handing over a set of plastic silverware. “Told ‘em it was your birthday and they totally hooked us up with the rolls,” he grinned.

Sam finally popped the top to his own box, displaying a grilled steak, baked potato and a bright red lobster tail.

“I got steak and shrimp, figured we could swap and share.”

“Man, Dean, you really didn’t need to do this,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” Dean said softly, voice deep before he leaned in to rest his forehead against Sam’s. “Happy birthday,” he grinned, pulling him into a soft kiss. “Lemme splurge for once.”

Sam grinned, dimples digging deep into his cheeks and kissed Dean again before he let go, cutting into his steak and sharing his lobster in return for a few shrimp.




“What’s in the other bag?” Sam asked, throwing his now empty takeout box away and pointing to the bag that Dean had left on the table.

“Shit,” Dean hissed, tossing his own box and jumping up from the bed to scramble over to the bag.

Sam stood up and walked over as Dean slid a box out of the plastic, opened the top and started laughing.

“You got me a cake?” Sam asked, slight squeak to his voice.

“I got you cake, but it’s kinda more...mush now,” Dean grinned.

The ice cream cake was slowly melting, little rivers of chocolate oozing out of the falling sides of the white icing. ‘Happy Birthday Sammy’ smudged and crooked as the icing it was drawn on had started to shift.

Dean pulled the chairs around side by side and handed Sam a spoon with a grin.

“I don’t think we should even try to take it out of the box,” he said, watching as a glob of the icing went rolling down the side.

“I think you’re right,” Sam smiled back, sitting down next to him, shoulders and knees bumping as they clashed spoons and fought playfully over the sticky mess.




“Thanks Dean,” Sam mumbled, laying his spoon down and glancing at him out from under his bangs. “All this...I mean...”

“We’re gonna do this shit every year from now on, no more skipped holidays and missed birthdays,” he said softly, ducking his head so he could see Sam’s eyes.

Sam grinned and Dean smirked back, right before he leaned in to kiss him softly.

“I’m serious Sam,” he whispered.

“I know,” Sam mumbled back against his lips, hand coming up to comb through Dean’s hair.

Dean’s breath hitched when Sam’s tongue flicked hesitantly against the corner of his lips, swiping away a stray smear of sticky chocolate ice cream.

“Sammy...”

He pulled back just enough to see Sam’s eyes.

“You sure?” he stammered.

He had been okay with the sleeping together and trading chaste kisses...well, he hadn’t been okay, not at first, but now it was comfortable and welcome, but turning those kisses more intimate was a big step.

“Yeah, but only if you want to,” Sam whispered, holding Dean’s gaze.

Dean swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and nodded ever so slightly.

Sam swallowed too, like he was just then realizing what he had put into motion, but by then Dean’s hand had come up to cradle the back of his head and pulled him back into the soft ice cream flavored kiss.

Something twisted in his chest, like his lungs were starved for air and his heart tight when Dean licked hesitantly across the seam of his lips.

Sam sighed, closing his eyes and allowed the access that Dean was silently asking for.

Their lives were twined so tightly together now, after Dean’s deal and resurrection, that it felt like everything had been heading this way. Headed towards them being closer than anyone ever had a right to be, so close nothing could ever get between them.

And maybe Sam had used the cheap ploy of kissing being just a way to show affection when this had all started, when this was something intimate he wanted to share with his brother, one more bond between them, but that’s what it was to them.

Winchesters had never been built for emotions and words, there was always a subtext, always something that wasn’t being said. But when Dean held him at night, when they whispered in the dark and traded soft kisses the love between them rang loud and true.

Sam scooted closer to the edge of his seat, wanting to crawl closer, take away all the space between them until they were one organism, breathing and living together. He inhaled sharply through his nose, twisting his tongue with Dean’s, soft hint of sugar and icing and Dean groaned low in his throat, hand coming up to dig into Sam’s hip when Sam leaned a little too far forward and his seat rocked onto two legs.

“Sammy,” Dean whispered, voice rubbed raw as he pulled back, resting his forehead against Sam’s and inhaling a sharp breath. “Fuck,” he whispered, “You sure about this?” he asked once again, always asking.

“Yeah Dean, I know...” he sighed, “I know this is beyond fucked up, but you can’t tell me this doesn’t feel right, that you don’t want this. Fuck what anyone else thinks. Damnit, I like being this close to you...after, after everything, just...fuck.”

“Yeah, I know Sammy, but snuggling and innocent kisses is one thing, playing tonsil hockey with your brother is another.”

Sam laughed, one hand still buried in Dean’s hair, one resting light on his thigh.

“I know,” he said softly, “I just...I don’t even know, I just...I like this, I like us, what we have now.”

“Yeah,” Dean struggled. “Yeah, me too,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss Sam again.




It was probably way easier than it ever should have been.

Sam loved, needed, the physical side of a relationship. Which sounded clingy and insecure, but it was just the way he was. He loved the little touches. The brush of hands, press of lips, rise and fall of breathing beneath his cheek.

He had been the same way with Jess and if he had thought about it more, that might have given him a clue.

She had always teased him about being even more of a cuddler than she was. But it was true. He’d always curl up under her chin, nuzzle the side of her neck, fingers never stilling from their slow sweep back and forth over sleep-warm skin.

Ironically enough it fit perfectly with Dean.

Dean was tactile. Not just when it came to relationships, but with everything.

He still had the three half circle scars radiated on his palm from when he was five and just had to reach out and touch the pretty red-orange burner on the stove, just had to know how it felt, no matter how many times Dad had said no.

Sam had always teased him when they were growing up about the sensual way he handled their weapons. Smooth metal barrels of a shotgun, slick sharp tip of a knife.

But that was Dean. Nothing was more real than when he could reach out and touch it, run it through his hands.

He had loved the soft crinkle of Cassie’s hair between his fingers. The suede-soft of her mocha skin under his hands and lips. Wet slide of tongue and drag of fingertips through sweat.

He loved to just feel.

So mix Dean’s need to feel and Sam’s love of contact and the two of them fit together frighteningly well.

Sam was the one to come out of the bathroom and into the shadows. He could see the smooth line of Dean’s shoulder from the motel sign outside as he stretched across the end table to set the alarm.

“Hey,” he murmured, slipping up behind him and dropping a kiss to the jut of his shoulder blade.

“Hey,” Dean mumbled back, leaning back into Sam’s warmth. Sam shifted until Dean’s back was pressed against his chest, both of them staring up at the ceiling in comfortable silence. Sam’s hand was warm and heavy over the thump of Dean’s heart, his thumb stroking back and forth over the green-black ink of the tattoo there.

“Set it so we can make sure we’re outta here by checkout,” Dean said, quiet in the dark.

Sam grunted behind him, nuzzling at the soft hair at the base of Dean’s neck.

“Thanks,” Sam mumbled.

Dean turned his head, craning his neck until he could meet his eyes.

“For today,” Sam finished quietly, looking away before meeting Dean’s eyes again.

“I told you dude, we’re not skipping these things anymore,” Dean whispered, shifting until he could wedge his shoulder under Sam’s arm.

“I know...I just...”

“I know,” Dean said quietly, leaning up to kiss him softly, his tongue hesitantly meeting Sam’s in a sleepy kiss.

Sam hummed in his throat, shifting until he could bury his nose under Dean’s chin.

Dean just chuckled quietly, pulling him tighter against him, drifting off to the lullaby of the highway outside set to the metronome of Sam’s heart.

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