Jar of Hearts - Sam/Dean - NC-17 - 01/02
Title: Jar of Hearts 01/02
Author: anyothergirl415
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Word Count: ~15,400
Disclaimer: Don’t know, don’t own, just write.
Warnings: Stanford AU. Mild angst, schmoop, and brotherfucking.
Summary: It was always this way for Sam, always just the side of a little more fucked up than everyone else. So this thing with his brother? Late night phone calls and conversations spanning over anything and everything, that was normal too right? Probably not.
Notes: Written for lightthesparks for her kind of personal bigbang thing. She made the most amazing art for this so make sure you go and comment on her post too!!
It had all really started years ago, back when Sam was old enough to know better but young enough to still use ignorance as an excuse. As if having these kinds of feelings, thinking these kinds of things, could still be written off to young boy fantasies. It couldn’t possibly ever be that simple, even at that age Sam knew it. But when you lived the life they did, the strangest things became normal.
He used to cry about it. Not with weeping sobs or anything that would get him mocked and teased but late at night and silently. He used to listen to Dean’s gentle wheeze, stare through the moonlight at the place the blanket had slid down along sculpted abs, staring at seemingly creamy skin though he knew in sunlight it was tan. And big silent tears would roll down his cheeks as his hand crept beneath his boxers and stroked his dick weeping in a different manner. Because he just wasn’t strong enough to resist.
Afterward he’d wipe his hand on the sheet and watch Dean continue to sleep and wonder if they made special places in hell for boys that fell in love with their big brothers.
In the end, it was more than half the reason he left. Though no one knew that of course. In the eyes of his dad he was running away and abandoning them. In the eyes of his brother he couldn’t say because Dean just shrugged when Sam asked him if it was okay. Those were the moments that killed him the most.
It had been a simple question. “Dean, will you visit me when I’m at school?” Sam had asked late at night when staring at the ceiling got to be too much and the lack of wheeze to Dean’s exhale said he was still awake.
There was an extended silence in the dark of their shared bedroom before Dean’s bed creaked as he rolled away. “It’s late Sam. Go to sleep.”
Just Sam, not ever Sammy anymore. For all the times Sam complained about the childish nickname he missed it all the same. Strange how six words could cut through his heart and break him down, force him to roll away just to hide the tears in his eyes. Sam had owned the same fluffy pillow with the blue cover since he was ten, carrying it from house to apartment to motel room and back, and he thought maybe it had soaked up enough tears to fill a small lake. Or make a giant ocean full of shame and embarrassment and a need never explained.
So Sam turned eighteen and graduated from high school and that August he moved to California. He didn’t have much, never really had, and Dean drove him to the bus station, waiting around for the Greyhound to pick up. Their dad had left the week before, telling Dean he’d see him soon, looking at Sam as he said goodbye without so much as a hug. It perfectly set the tone of departure in Sam’s eyes.
When the bus pulled up Sam stared, idly wondering if the ache in his chest meant his heart was breaking. His eyes drifted inevitably over to his brother. Dean’s jaw was clenched and sunglasses hid his eyes and Sam had never felt more alone.
“I’ll call you.” He offered quietly, shifting the duffel bag on his shoulder, the bus ticket in his hand. Anything to preoccupy the part of his soul that was screaming out for Dean to beg him not to go.
“Have a safe trip.” Dean said just as softly, a level of flatness to his voice that Sam usually only heard when his brother was addressing someone he didn’t want to deal with.
They didn’t hug, didn’t touch, Sam waited around for a few minutes hoping the offer of affection would be extended. Then the driver appeared calling for anyone else and Sam didn’t have much of a choice but to go. “Dean?” He stepped away but kept his eyes fixed on his brother, sharp tears pricking along his eyes.
“Go on Sam. Do what you gotta do.” Dean rolled his shoulders back, stance stiffening before he turned and walked away.
Maybe it was better Sam didn’t have to watch his brother driving away. Safely encased in the too small seat at the back of the bus Sam could close his eyes and pretend this was for the best. It was, in some ways. Mostly though, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything he loved and cared for was being left behind. Sam would start a new life in California, even if it killed him.
-=-=-=-
Time had this funny way of slipping away from Sam. Especially when his days were jam-packed with classes and homework and attempts at friendships. His first year he shared a dorm with a kid named Jeremy and they didn’t have much in common but got along none the less. Sam was used to getting along with people he didn’t have things in common with, after all, no one’s life was like his. Except Dean’s.
His big brother that was god knows where. The same guy he talked to maybe once or twice the first six months, the one he left a voicemail for on Christmas and New Years and his birthday the following month. Dean didn’t call him back until late at night when Sam was asleep. In the morning he had a voicemail with a minute of quiet breathing before a barely whispered I miss you Sam.
It shook him to his core, throwing off everything Sam worked so hard to establish in six months of being away from home. It was almost enough to have Sam renting a car and tracking his brother down because the note of desperation was too thick to ignore. But a few days later Dean called again, chuckling softly and shrugging off the message like it didn’t even exist.
Sam had the message saved so he knew it existed and sometimes when everything became too much he’d listen to it. Just to know that somewhere out there, there was a person who cared. Even if it was never the way Sam wanted.
Dean called two more times that year, on Sam’s birthday and in the middle of the summer shortly after Sam had gotten himself a small one bedroom apartment and a part time job at the animal shelter. Neither conversation was very long and Sam got the sense that Dean made the calls out of obligation alone. It was still good to hear his brother’s voice.
Then it all changed quite suddenly, though Sam was too shocked at the time to really notice. It was a Thursday night and he’d just gotten in from his Beginner’s Law class. There were thirty pages of text to be read before his class tomorrow so Sam settled in on the couch with a box of Chinese food take out and his book, ready to force himself to pay attention to influential cases of the last three decades.
It wasn’t all that surprising for his phone to ring, Sam had a pretty solid group of friend’s and at any given time they’d call for random help on math assignments or to rope him into coming to whatever party was on that weekend. Sam didn’t even look at the caller ID before answering, propping the phone between his shoulder and his ear and grumbling a hello around bites of orange chicken and fried rice.
“Sam?” Dean’s voice was slightly staticy through the line and something was beeping in the background.
It was so weirdly random to hear his brother’s word that Sam fumbled with the phone and glanced down at it, not knowing the number across the line. “Dean? What’s up?”
“Ah you know, same old.” Dean’s voice broke on a cough and the beeping in the background picked up.
“Dean? What’s going on? Are you okay?” Sam was neither dumb nor in denial about what that noise was. He’d been in enough hospitals - as a patient and a visitor - to easily put the pieces together. “What the hell happened?”
“Nothing Sam. Nothing.” Dean sounded sleepy and worn down but his voice was smoother like the pause before he answered had been him taking a drink of water. “Just slipped up. Got a little careless. I’m fine.”
For Dean to be calling him was odd enough, for it to be happening from a hospital meant that he couldn’t possibly be as fine as he tried to get Sam to believe. “Tell me what happened.”
“Bad hunt Sam. That’s all. Doctor says I’ll be fine.” Dean sighed like Sam was annoying him for caring enough to ask. “How are you?”
At this point Sam had a couple of options. If he kept pestering his brother over his injury it would only annoy him further and the phone call would likely end with the man hanging up on him. Or Sam could just let it go. Sam really wanted to talk to his brother so the choice wasn’t that hard to make. “I’m okay. Reading for school. Eatin’ dinner.”
“Is it dinner time? Huh.” Dean chuckled softly and Sam could hear the rustle of sheets in the background. “Hey you know what? I won six hundred dollars last week in a game of poker. They never knew what hit them.”
Sam couldn’t help but laugh at this. Leave it to his brother to be so excited over something like winning a big jackpot in a poker game. Add it to the list of a million reasons why Sam loved his brother more than he should. Even the little things about him made Sam smile. “Did you get them with the ol’ I don’t know a Jack from a Queen bit?”
Hearing Dean join in the laughter made Sam’s heart swell in a way it hadn’t for years. “Was two hundred down then bluffed my way through to the best jackpot imaginable. Good timing really.”
“How so?” Sam was actually a little surprised this conversation was still happening, more than five minutes for one phone call had to be some kind of record for them.
“Just is. How’s your place workin’ out?”
Sam slid the law book from his lap and looked around at his small living room; the entire apartment was maybe the size of one of the motel rooms they’d frequented growing up. But Sam kind of loved it because it was his. “It’s quiet. Good though. Better than the dorms.”
“You still hang out with that Jeremy kid?” Dean’s tone was sleepier now Sam could all too easily imagine him laying there on his back under crisp white hospital sheets with his eyes closed, shifting around to try and get comfortable in the pale blue hospital gowns he’d always hated wearing.
“I’m surprised you remembered his name. But nah, not so much. We’re different majors, different crowds.” Sam considered telling Dean about his friends, the kind of people that he associated with now. Dean would probably just make fun of them though so he didn’t.
“Still gonna put the bad guys behind bars?” Dean murmured, voice dropping an octave like he was slipping into sleep as they spoke.
The low timbre of Dean’s voice sparked heat up in Sam. It shouldn’t have but there it was, that unavoidable dirty little part of him that no amount of miles could ease. “Definitely. You going to be okay Dean?”
“For sure Sam. Just gonna sleep it off. It’ll all be better in the morning.”
It was a naive way to think, that a little sleep would make all the world’s problems better, but it was classic Winchester and Sam nodded even if his brother couldn’t see him. “You need anything?”
A few beats of silence passed and Sam held his breath, ready to do absolutely anything Dean requested of him. More than a year since they’d last seen each other and Sam was still just as caught up as he’d always been. “No Sam, I’m okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”
The line dropped before Sam could consider whether his brother meant that or not. Maybe he wouldn’t hear from him for another few months, maybe longer, it drove Sam crazy not knowing but he could look at the little things. Like the seemingly random conversation that came out of nowhere.
When Sam dropped his phone to the side he was half hard and disgusted with himself. He wondered what a therapist would say if he sought help for his problem. They’d probably lock him up.
-=-=-=-
The next call came three days later in the middle of the night. Sam was sprawled out on his mattress, head buried in the pillow, dreaming about that summer when he was thirteen and he and Dean had spent more than half the warm sunshiny days in the lake. It was one of the first times Sam had realized that there was hardly anything more beautiful that Dean’s lips sparkling from dewed water droplets and beams of sunlight.
His dream did one of those weird things were real life mashed with the too bright Technicolor of his and Dean’s lake. Dean’s mouth opened up like he was going to shout at Sam to hurry up but instead of words he rang. Sam’s steps on the shore slowed, eyes fluttering a few times in confusion. Dean didn’t seem to notice though, just opened his mouth and rang once more.
Then Sam was actually opening his eyes and he was back in his apartment. The ringing came again and he groaned, rolling over to slap at the phone. The clock said it was after two and Sam had a massive exam in the morning that he’d been studying for until almost one. “What?” He grumbled into the line, not even bothering to hide his clear distaste for whoever was calling.
“Sam? Shit. Did I wake you?”
Dean.
Sam’s eyes opened again this time a little more willingly and he shifted under his blankets to try and free himself. “Dean? Yeah man it’s after two.”
“Oh. I didn’t know. Sorry, forget it. Go back to sleep.” Dean sounded incredibly wide awake and sad, his tone too melancholy to be ignored.
“It’s fine. What’s going on? Are you okay?” Because why else would his brother be calling him at such an ungodly hour? Even if he was on the other side of the country it’d still be five AM. Dean didn’t get out of bed before ten if he could help it.
“Yeah yeah, I’m good. I got out of the hospital earlier, just, you know. In case you were worrying about me because you always do.”
True, Sam had been worrying about his brother in the hospital and all alone but that wasn’t something he was going to admit too. “You feeling okay?”
“I- yeah. Definitely. Look I’m sorry I called so late, I didn’t see what time it was.” Dean laughed then but it sounded hollow and weird, a joke Sam was missing somehow.
Sighing quietly, Sam rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, listening to Dean’s laugh trail off into a slight intake of breath. “It’s okay. You can call whenever.” Which was true, knowing it was Dean on the line made it impossible for Sam to be angry anymore about having his sleep interrupted.
“Remember your tenth birthday? When I stole you donuts from that bakery? Where were we then? Kansas?”
A small smile tugged at Sam’s lips and he hummed softly before answering. “Kentucky. Dad was looking into that case about the supposed headless horseman.”
Dean laughed, the noise crystal clear and bursting across the line. “Fuck yeah. You got so freaked out you slept in my bed the whole time.”
It was impossible not to laugh as well and Sam flopped over onto his back, sprawling a hand out on his stomach. “Shut up I did not. You made me come sleep in your bed because you were scared.”
“Whatever Sammy you were stuck to me like my own personal Siamese twin the entire time we were there.” Dean’s following laugh was interrupted by a sharp cough than the pause of silence while he presumably took a drink. “Remember Arkansas?”
“With the possessed doll?”
“Chucky.”
“It was not Chucky.”
“Was too. Got you to throw out all your toys after.”
“Because you made me think G.I. Joe was gonna use his machine gun on me once the lights were out.”
Another burst of laughter from his brother filled the line and Sam’s grin was bigger than it had been in the year and a half since he’d left home. Probably even longer. “What’s with the walk down memory lane?”
“Just thinkin’ about some of the cases over the years. Sometimes even the smallest ones can be life changing.” Dean sighed quietly and Sam could imagine him shaking his head and rubbing at his brow. “You ever wish…”
Dean didn’t have to finish the question for Sam to know what it was. They’d had this conversation a hundred times before. It was a well scripted play that Sam had played part in over and over. “Nah. Maybe a little, but, not so much anymore.” That wasn’t the line he was supposed to say.
It caused the silence to stretch out between them. Clearly Dean had been expecting the usual all the time to which he’d answer that every life happened for a reason and their destiny was written out by the death of their mother. “I do.”
Sam’s eyes opened to the slate white ceiling and the dark that didn’t house the wheeze of his brother sleeping but still kept the secrets he wouldn’t address. “You don’t have to-“
“No Sam. That’s not- it’s.” Dean inhaled shakily and Sam knew there was something more to all of this but he couldn’t place it. “You just keep doing what you do and it takes you wherever.”
“Dean,” Sam felt tears in his eyes because sure Dean could say that and maybe he meant it but Sam still knew him well enough to know that every word was covered with sadness. Like a stack of bricks pushing in on his chest.
“Don’t worry about it Sam. Get some sleep.”
That was it, Dean putting his foot down and successfully ceasing the conversation. Sam could push the conversation but it would get him nowhere real fast. “Alright. Take care Dean.”
“Sam?” This time Dean’s call of his name was almost a whisper, tight and nervous. Though what Dean could have to be nervous about was beyond Sam. “Can I call you tomorrow?”
Something pinched in Sam’s heart and he held his breath for a long moment, letting the feelings settle over him. “Yeah Dean. Just, try not to in the middle of the night.”
Dean chuckled again. “Yeah, okay. Talk to you then.”
“Definitely.”
Sam dropped the phone back onto the nightstand and flopped back onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. Dean’s voice was echoing in his ears, his quiet and gentle laugh, and the warmth of memories flickering through his subconscious. Lips pressing hard together Sam shifted under his blankets and slid his hand down, dipping under his boxers to curl his fingers around his half hard cock.
God. He was seriously fucked up.
-=-=-=-
Like Dean had said, he did call the following day. Somehow he even managed to time it just as Sam was leaving his business math class and pulling the device out of his pocket to check. Sam smiled at the caller ID and his brother’s name before answering.
“Caught me just as I’m leaving class,” he said as a greeting, shuffling his books in his arms and smiling at the girl holding the door open for him.
“Oh yeah? Learning how to lock ‘em up good?” Dean sounded sleepy like he’d woken from a dead sleep to call. Or he could just be tired considering the time it was when he called that morning.
Sam was still dealing with the after affects from that. “Nah. Learning how to add and subtract.”
“What the fuck?” Dean laughed deep and throaty into the line. Sam could listen to it for hours even if he was marveling that he was hearing it for a second time in less than twenty four hours. “That what you pay big bucks for?”
“Technically, I don’t pay anything. Scholarship covers most and financial aid does the rest. I’m saving up to buy a car.” For some reason Sam thought Dean might be proud of him for that and he pressed the phone tighter to his ear as he crossed the campus and listened intently for the response.
“Fuck you’ll probably end up with a Prius or something equally ridiculous.” Dean huffed but Sam could hear the note of fondness.
It felt good, really good, to still be able to pick up on those subtle little details. “I am not going to buy a Prius. Just because I live in California does not mean I’m from here. Nah, I’m thinking a truck. Something big. Grown a couple inches.”
“Fuck really? What are you now? Seven foot? Eight? They got special circuses for people like you.” Dean’s teasing was natural, a familiar banter between them that made Sam feel like they last few years hadn’t happened.
There had to be a catch, he wasn’t foolish enough to think his luck was finally turning around to give him a bond with his big brother that he’d always wanted. Okay, maybe not the right kind of bond but this one would be good too. “Ha ha. You’re so funny Dean.”
“I should get a stand up gig.” There was no laugh with this, something vague and wistful with the words.
Not for the first time Sam wondered what else was happening in Dean’s world. Three phone calls in a week, more than he’d had combined in the year before. It wasn’t like Dean suddenly had a crisis of conscience where he realized not looking after his baby brother was shit of him. Unless he did, then Sam would appropriate be annoyed. If at any point during his new life he needed Dean most it would have been his freshman year when he was all alone and more scared than he’d care to admit.
“I’m missing something aren’t I?” Sam’s steps hesitated, eyes drifting from the path that led to his next class and the one back to his apartment. Skipping class wasn’t his thing but maybe if Dean wanted to talk longer. Dean was worth skipping classes for.
“Not really. You going somewhere?”
Sam sighed and turned for his next classroom. “Yeah. Human Studies. You’d like it, basically sex 101.”
“Fuck. They really teach that? Good, you could use it.” Dean was teasing again, laughing at his words like he was proud of them.
Knowing his brother, he was. “God you’re just on a roll today huh?”
“Aw don’t be butt hurt Sam. Want me to stroke your ego instead?”
Sam could have gone the rest of his life without hearing his brother say stroke like that. “Uh. Class.”
“Right, go learn about pussy. I’ll talk to you tonight?” Dean was asking again, as if Sam would ever say no.
He stopped in front of the Human Studies building and clenched his books tighter. “Yeah? Okay. Tonight then.”
“Later Sam.”
The line clicked off in his ear and Sam was stuck for a moment reminding himself that he was at school, in California, god knows how many miles from his brother. It didn’t make his heart stop racing and his blood slow back to normal. Why was this even happening?
-=-=-=-
True to his word, Dean called that night just as Sam was climbing into bed. He’d kind of been thinking it was too good to be true, like Dean was going to blow him off again. Sam figured that it would be over just as fast as it started. Except his phone was ringing again and it was the Charlie’s Angels theme song because Sam wanted something free to download that knew would remind him of his brother.
Why he chose Charlie’s Angels? All you had to do was meet Dean and know the answer to that. Maybe one day he’d tell Dean about it and Sam was pretty sure his brother would appreciate the irony. “Sup?” He was going for casual, it sounded lame. Sam managed not to wince though so he considered that a bonus.
“Really? Did you just say that to me? California is rubbing off on you. Prius Sammy. Prius.” Dean chuckled.
Instantly Sam was trying to determine if he sounded more tired, less tired, happier, sadder. How much could you really tell about a person by their tone of voice? It was Dean, Sam was pretty sure he could tell everything if he listened hard enough. “Fuck you.” He said with a grin and dropped down onto his bed. No, it wasn’t weird to lie in bed while talking to his brother.
In fact it was weirder to be talking to him for the third time that day than sliding between his sheets and getting comfortable. Sam already knew all the reasons that was probably fucked up. “How’s dad?” He asked because he hadn’t during any other call. It was a fine line, could go either way, but Sam was trying.
“Last time we spoke he seemed okay. You know, he’s dad. He does what he does and that’s how he’ll always be.” There was definitely a note of dismissal to the words.
So they weren’t talking about it and fine, Sam didn’t really want to talk about their dad anyway. If he missed him then, he’d just keep it to himself. “Where are you anyway?”
“A motel room.” The duh didn’t need to be said, just like Sam was pretty sure his brother was rolling his eyes.
Sam did likewise, wondering if Dean knew he was. “I mean what city asshole.”
“Stanley, Idaho. Home of cowboys, potatoes and a water ghost that likes to drown mourning widows.”
That was so Dean Sam was torn between a smile and a look somewhere close to disbelief. “Water ghost?”
“Yup. Dead now though. Fucker.” Dean grunted and in the background Sam could hear the creak of bed springs.
For some reason knowing Dean was lying down too did things to Sam that really shouldn’t be happening. His fingers slid over his bare chest and lower still, even as his mind screamed don’t you dare. “Tell me about it.”
“What, the hunt?” Dean chuckled quietly and Sam’s fingers slid just under his boxers. So bad. “Well I guess this lake monster thing, he once was human. And twenty or so years ago his wife went all batshit insane and thought he was cheating on her whenever he went out to fish. So she followed him one day to spy.”
“Was he?” It was all Sam could manage to get out without sounding breathless. Because his fingers had kept gravitating down and the low timbre of Dean’s voice was accompanying the slow loose curl of his fingers.
“Cheating on her? No. She was insane with the idea though. She ended up tying their boats together, climbing onto his and drowning him over the side. So, fast forward to now. He was taking out his revenge on widows, because spirits you know? Can’t decipher the truths about things.”
This was so messed up. Sam was stroking his cock while listening to his brother talk about fucking water ghosts drowning widows. And really it was the last part that was more disturbing. “City nice?”
Dean paused for a moment and Sam could hear him breathing through the line. He bit his lip to keep from moaning. “Yeah. Pretty too. Bluest lake I’ve ever seen. Rooms not bad either, pretty spacious. Good bed too, the kind you just sink down into. Sheets even feel clean.”
Yeah, Dean talking about his bed was definitely helping Sam along. Much better than the talk of ghosts. “Stickin’ around?” Maybe the words sounded a little breathless but he was hoping his brother wouldn’t notice.
“For a little while, yeah.” Dean sounded a little off again and Sam had a horrible fleeting thought as to what it could mean.
His hand stopped moving, squeeze tight enough to cause a burst of pain through him. “There’s- have you met someone?”
“What?” Dean was genuinely surprised, Sam could hear it before the soft rumble of laughter. “God no Sam. Would I be callin’ so much if I had met someone?”
Sam relaxed at that and loosened his grip until the pain faded away and he could breathe easier. The idea of Dean meeting someone was just not something he could handle at that moment. “Okay. Tell me something.”
“Tell you what?” Dean laughed again then paused, Sam could imagine him tilting his head or rubbing his chest. Or maybe rubbing lower which was pretty nice to think about.
“Anything.” Sam whispered to keep another moan from falling out his lips. His hand was picking up speed now, body arching up into the touch, knowing his time was limited and he really wanted to come while listening to Dean talk.
“Uh. Alright. I thought about coming to see you not too long ago. Couple of weeks I think. I just thought maybe you wouldn’t want to see me you know? Maybe you’d be upset with me because I’m a bad brother. I should have answered on Christmas and not called so late on my birthday. Probably should be experiencing some of these moments you’re living through with you, you know?”
Sam felt a little guilty then that he was jacking off listening to Dean worrying about being a bad big brother. But he couldn’t stop his hand from moving at that point. It was too much to ignore. “No Dean. You’re not.”
“Still. I should have done so much more. Like drive you to California, check out your crappy dorm. I should have hugged you goodbye at least.” Dean’s voice was soft and almost sleepy, like a purr across the line.
That was enough to do it for Sam. The dirty wrong of the situation and Dean talking about hugging him and Sam’s hips snapped up into fist and he came all over his boxers. It was sticky and warm but thankfully Sam had swallowed down every sound. He was panting slightly, tilting the phone away so his brother wouldn’t hear.
“Sam?” Dean asked after a few moments of silence, clearly misinterpreting Sam’s silence.
“I get it.” Sam managed to whisper and closed his eyes, wiggling out of his boxers to kick them down off his feet. Now he was naked, lying in bed after just coming while his brother talked about serious things. Sam was the one who was a bad brother. “Really, I do. That whole thing sucked. Maybe a lot of things should have been different but it just. It’s done now. Can’t take it back.”
“But maybe I can make amends.” Dean breathed quiet over the line than sighed. “Should let you sleep.”
“No two AM calls okay?” Sam wanted to bring the laughter back to Dean’s words, wanted him to sound less sad and worn down.
“No two AM calls. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Another question that had Sam’s eyes opening.
“Yeah? Okay. I’ll look for your call.” And Sam would because he felt like something big was happening here. Maybe it wouldn’t ever be what he secretly wanted but if he could reconnect with his brother, if they could bond over random phone calls, then yeah. He’d take that.
Phone charging on the nightstand, Sam curled onto his side and brought a pillow up against his chest. He could smile even as he fell asleep because knowing Dean was going to call tomorrow made him feel a lot more light headed than his orgasm from before ever could.
-=-=-=-
It became somewhat of a pattern with them, Dean’s phone calls at random times throughout Sam’s day. For the first couple of days Dean seemed to always call while Sam was in class, sometimes Sam would be in between and able to answer, other times he’d get the voicemails after. Those, oddly enough, were almost more pleasing than actually talking to his brother.
He could save them and listen over and over until he had the words memorized.
There were two calls that first day. One when Sam was in the shower in which Dean spent five minutes rambling about the right consistency of scrambled eggs - how they were gross too runny and gross too hard and only few people seemed to get them just right. Sam had listened to it while drying his hair and couldn’t help smiling at his reflection in the mirror.
He was running late so he couldn’t call his brother back and by the time he checked his phone at lunch time there was another voicemail. Sam ate a tuna sandwich and listened to his brother describe in great detail how the scent of chocolate was almost better than the taste. Sam was slightly surprised when he used words like redolence and confectionery. It was one of those moments where he found himself questioning whether he’d underestimated his brother in some way.
On the walk home from his last class he called Dean back. His brother sounded sleepy - napping in the middle of the day no doubt - and chuckled softly when Sam called him on it. As Dean started in on the glorious water pressure at the motel he was staying in Sam thought how he’d never been more relieved to have free long distance on his phone and enough minutes to spare.
The night they talked for over an hour. It was the longest phone call Sam had ever shared with anyone which wasn’t that surprising because before he’d never considered himself the extended phone call type. But it was so easy talking to Dean, like it hadn’t been in years.
Dean asked all about his classes, making Sam tell him which teachers were the best, what subjects he enjoyed most, what he was most looking forward. Then he was all about the campus, his friend’s, the things Sam did on the weekends. Even when Sam was a kid Dean had never showed so much interest in him, almost pushing Sam away when he trailed after his big brother with what Dean called puppy dog eyes.
This was likely why, three days later on a crisp autumn Saturday afternoon, Sam left the library with the phone in the crook of his shoulder and a laugh on his lips to Dean’s greeting of Heya Sammich. “What is this Dean? I’m not complaining, seriously, but we’ve talked more in the last week than we have in years. And I thought you hated talking on the phone.”
“I just-“ The increasingly large flow of words that left Dean’s lips faltered now, Sam was a little surprised because after a week he was starting to think his brother was a bit obsessed with talking. “Sometimes you just need to hold onto something you know? And you’re all I’ve got.”
It was shocking enough to have Sam’s steps drawing to a stop. He watched multicolored leaves fall from tree in front of him, littering the sidewalk in a random disarray. Of course he knew Dean didn’t have much, none of the Winchesters did and that was just, normal for them. And Sam had really considered Dean his everything for a long time, maybe his whole life, but he never thought Dean felt likewise. Sam’s heart swelled in a way that kept happening over and over in the past week.
“Why don’t you come see me for awhile? My couch is comfy, or. Well, my bed is big enough you know? I mean, you could get a motel too if you wanted. Winter break’s not too far off, you could come spend the month I have off with me.” Sam was speaking in a rush, words tumbling from his lips out of his control because it took so much effort to get himself to ask in the first place.
Silence extended across the line long enough to have Sam walking again and resigning himself to Dean’s inevitable no. “I really want to Sam. It’s just, complicated. Not sure I can make it out there right now. Soon though, I will.”
Of all the excuses Dean could have offered - a big hunt, Dad asking for his help, the car broken - this was really nothing at all. Sam felt the stab of disappointment and annoyance. “You don’t have to lie. If you don’t want to come see me it’s fine you know you could just say it. No need to placate me.”
“Jesus Sam chill the fuck down. I’m not placating you. I would come see you but I can’t.” Dean sighed heavily, stressing the last word enough to make it sound almost like a whine.
Sam’s face scrunched up as his fingers slid up through his hair. “Why not? What’s going on Dean?” He had no idea how many times he’d ask that question in particular, enough to know at least that Dean wasn’t going to be answering.
“It’s- god Sam. I’ve got.” Dean’s inhale was shaky, causing a burst of static to fill the line. “It’s nothing.”
“Bull shit it’s nothing. You can call me three times a day and talk my ear almost literally off but you can’t come see me? That’s fucked up.” Sam was trying not to let himself get this annoyed but it was hard when Dean had said so many things about being a better brother, making amends. Sure phone calls were great but he wanted to see his brother. Hug him. Talk to him face to face. And other things that might be adding to the tension just a little more than he’d admit.
“Let it go Sam. Seriously, just fucking let it go.”
Sam walked the next block in silence, ear still pressed hard to his ear. If it wasn’t for the soft breath filling the line he might have thought Dean had hung up on him. But Sam was always hyper aware of the little noises coming from his brother’s lips so he knew he was there.
“Alright. Sorry. I just don’t understand and I hate that you won’t tell me.” Sam pursed his lips, thankful when he rounded the corner to his apartment building. “Tell me about your day so far.”
“I fucked my pillow.” Dean shot back, sounding still a little grumpy but ending in a laugh.
Sam tripped over his shoe and coughed loudly. “Shut up Dean. God. Why would you think I’d want to know that?”
“Aw Sammy we both know you like the dirty details.”
Judging from the heat on his cheeks Sam would have to say yeah. He liked the dirty details. And he kind of wished he was a pillow at the moment.
-=-=-=-
“You ever just listen to the bird’s Sam?”
Sam didn’t look at his caller ID before he answered but he’d already known it was going to be Dean. Eleven days into this new, whatever, and Sam was not only looking forward to the calls but he had his days planned around them. “I hear them. Which doesn’t necessarily mean I listen but I know they’re there.”
“I’ve been listening to them. There’s so many things you hear if you just listen for awhile. Like, the guy in the room next door, he likes to sing Madonna.” Dean chuckled softly.
Most likely Dean was curled under his blanket, even if it was the middle of the day. Sam had no idea why his brother wasn’t off in the real world doing normal things - or hunting which wasn’t normal but Winchester - asking Dean got him nowhere fast so he didn’t bother. “You sing along with him?” Sam teased, pushing up from his couch and heading toward his room.
“Fuckin’ hilarious Sam.” Dean grumbled, Sam could hear the slight whoosh of air leaving his mouth. “What are you doing?”
“Folding laundry.” Sam chuckled and tucked the sleeves of his shirt in. He’d become a pro at balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear by the point. “Dean-“
“This is the part where you ask huh?” Dean cut him off with a quiet sigh. “Once a day at least Sam, you ask and I keep telling you it’s fine. Just takin’ a break, takin’ some time. Why can’t that be enough for you?”
“Because it’s not that. It’s not just you taking some time Dean. We’ve been doing this for almost two weeks and god I love it but seriously. I’m worried about you. Listening to birds and the guy singing Madonna in the next room? Next you’ll be doing yoga and going vegetarian.”
Dean laughed and Sam was pleased that he’d thrown in that last bit just ease off some of the tension. “I love beef far too much to turn my back on it.”
“Alright. That’s true but seriously Dean. Whatever you’re not telling me, you should trust me. Are you in trouble? Did you break your leg or something?” The facts stood that a couple of weeks ago Dean was in the hospital which meant any number of things could have happened. It was the only logical reason Sam could think of to keep Dean off the road. “Is it your arm? Some ribs? What is it?”
“Nah man, nothing broken. Some bruises and stuff but I can handle it. Nothing wrong with taking a little downtime you know?”
It was more than that, Sam was pretty sure of it. Dean was keeping some big secret from him but Sam couldn’t bring himself to pry it out of his brother. After all, Dean wasn’t the only one carrying around secrets. And he was pretty sure his brother didn’t get off listening to his voice, or dream about being tangled together under the sheets. So maybe some secrets really were best kept exactly that.
“Sam. Your thinking is hurting my brain, could you do it a little quieter?” Dean teased across the line and still Sam could imagine the smile that accompanied the words.
“Shut up.” Sam shot back easily and dropped a pair of boxers onto the clean clothes pile. The conversation drifted to something else, for now, but Sam held on to the need to know.
Part Two
Awesome Art Post