Fic: Turn Around (Sam/Dean,PG) Part 1 of 2
S2032
Title: Turn Around
Author: smalltrolven
Artist: emberthrace
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 4,867
Warnings: None
Author’s Note: Not my characters, only my words. Written for the 2020 spn-reversebang. Thank you to emberthrace for the inspiring artwork.
Summary: Sam is seventeen, hiking and pining his way through a case in the Badlands. Hikers keep going missing, ending up separated from their groups, and when their bodies are eventually discovered, it’s like they just laid down and let themselves die. Dean is acting different, and Sam can’t tell if it’s the case, or him, or the college acceptance letter in his backpack.
Check out the awesome art masterpost here.
Read it over on AO3 here.
****
The sun isn’t as hot as they had planned for, but the terrain is rougher going than Sam’s used to hiking through. The red dirt and the distinctively craggy Badlands peaks roll on as far as he can see into the vague distance. The crunch of his boots on the barely visible trail is the only sound when he times his steps perfectly with Dean’s. He concentrates on doing that for a long time, matching his steps and his breaths with his big brother’s. In and out, Dean’s back expands and contracts.
Sam can see the sweat soaking into the collar of Dean’s over shirt making the edge a darker blue. The skin on the back of Dean’s neck looks much too red for just exertion and now Sam wishes that he’d insisted on putting on sunscreen before they’d started hiking. Now he’s going to have to hear Dean bitching about the painful sunburn for the next few days. But back there at the car, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to insist on doing the sunscreen thing, because that would have meant having his hand’s on Dean’s skin. Right there, where he knew it was the very softest, right there, behind Dean’s perfectly formed ears.
He mentally slaps himself, he can’t possibly feel more like an emo teen like Dean had taken to calling him lately, because it’s true. Sam is always feeling too emotional and on-edge, between all the raging hormones, and the constant effort to hide his excruciating pining over Dean, it’s a lot, no, it’s too much. When they’d started hiking today it had almost felt like a possible vacation from all that angst, since they were here working on a case together, without Dad. Usually that made things easier between them, like Dean didn’t feel like he had to play the freaking peacemaker all the time.
Things don’t feel easier, not now that Sam's following Dean up the trail, all of his thoughts are of course, as usual, completely focused on Dean to the exclusion of everything else. Sam can’t help it, his eyes are constantly roving over his brother’s body as he moves along the rough terrain in front of him. Just there, right out of his reach, always ahead of him on the trail, but still unattainable. Sam knows for sure that this is no vacation, it’s the same as usual.
Sam sighs, and accepts his fate. He follows and tries his hardest not to think at all, about anything instead. Certainly not about all the times that he’s almost let his brother know how he feels. And then there’s the acceptance letter that’s hidden in the bottom of the pack Sam carries on his back. He still hasn’t told Dean anything about it or his plans for the future, he tells himself that he’s still working up the courage. Sam knows that when he finally does, it isn’t going to go over well with his brother. Dean idolizes their dad, and would never consider coming along to Stanford with Sam even if Sam asked him to.
That’s something that keeps stopping him from telling Dean anything about his plans. Sam’s still not sure whether he should even ask Dean or not. Is it better to give Dean the chance to say no, make a clean break of it for both of them? Or would it be better for Dean for Sam to just leave without ever offering Dean the option? Even though Dean coming along with him is the only outcome Sam really truly wants.
That’s what Sam’s mind is filled with, all the want that’s always there, the base need, the carnal lust that’s so hard to control day in day out, and the existential dread of losing any contact with Dean if he knew how Sam felt. He knows it’ll kill him if it happens, it’s his worst case scenario because he’d be the one making it happen to the both of them.
He has to stop himself from going down that road, making that choice, especially way out here in the middle of nowhere, because that would leave neither of them the option to leave. Especially, since they’re in the middle of a hunt when they have no real clue on what they’re really hunting. That means changing the internal conversation he’s having with himself by making actual conversation with Dean, here in the real world, where little brothers aren’t meant to be pining over their big brothers like this.
“Hey, Dean, can we stop for a sec?” Sam asks, surprising himself with how out of breath he sounds. It’s not the exertion of the hike, it’s the worry of it all. The question hangs there in the air between them as Dean takes several more steps up the hill away from him.
Then Dean is pausing and turning in response to his question, he’s now way up above him on the cliffside, his face filled with so much affection as he looks down at Sam, so open and warm. Sam can see that he’s about to get teased for asking to stop, and then everything changes in a moment. Dean’s face goes white with surprise and fear and he’s yelling Sam’s nickname so loud in the space between them. He’s looking over Sam’s shoulder, not at Sam, wait-he’s not yelling at Sam for doing something wrong, he’s…Dean’s leaping off the cliff, crashing into Sam, bringing him down to the rocky ground, cradling his head and rolling them down the hill, away from whatever it was that scared Dean.
They hit the bottom of the hill, Sam feels dazed from the whole thing, it all happened so fast. They’re both covered in dirt and scraped up with bleeding cuts on their arms and faces.
“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asks, hands roaming over Sam’s body and face.
“What the hell, Dean?” Sam protests, slapping Dean’s hands away, it’s too much, too close to what he wants.
“It…there was something behind you,” Dean says, eyes wide with a fear he can’t seem to hide.
“What are you talking about, dude? I didn’t see anything,” Sam says.
“It was behind you, doofus, you couldn’t have seen it, unless you’ve grown eyes on the back of your head that can see through this mop of hair,” Dean’s hands tug on Sam’s hair. “Trust me, there was definitely something there.”
Sam is proud of himself from hiding the groan at having his hair pulled like that. There’s something about Dean’s fear and worry that makes it easy to stuff that idea away where he usually puts such things. Down in that deep pit where it can’t hurt either of them. “What did this something look like exactly?”
“It was kind of person shaped, but not exactly. It wasn’t see-through like a ghost, it was kind of absorbing the light. It’s hard to explain, it’s like it was an absence, a shape of nothingness. The only thing was the eyes, I could see through them into…”
“Into what, Dean?” Sam asks, when Dean doesn’t finish his sentence.
“Into somewhere else, that’s the only way to describe it,” Dean asks.
“Do you see it anywhere now?” Sam asks, sitting up from where their bodies are still tangled together.
Dean groans as he stands, his hands going to his lower back and coming away bloody. He scans the horizon several times and shakes his head. “I think we’re okay for now.”
“Think this is what Dad sent us out here to find?” Sam asks.
“Maybe? There wasn’t a lot to go on in the stuff he left us,” Dean says.
“Yeah, I know, I read it to you in the car, remember?” Sam asks.
“I’m thinking we should stay out here tonight, see if it comes back,” Dean says.
“Dean, we don’t know what it is, or how to fight it,” Sam says.
“It was a whole lot of nothing, Sammy. It’s not like a vampire or something,” Dean says.
“For the millionth time, it’s Sam and there’s no such thing as vampires, you know that as well as I do. This could be something we don’t want to tangle with completely unprepared like we are right now,” Sam says.
“C’mon, it’ll be fun, you need to challenge yourself on hunts sometimes,” Dean says.
“Yeah, sure, says the guy who’s bleeding. C’mon, turn around, let me check you,” Sam says, trying to manhandle Dean into position so he can see what’s wrong with his back.
Sam kneels behind Dean and examine the scrapes on Dean’s lower back. He gently touches the reddened skin around the bloody cuts. “It’s pretty scraped up and you’re bleeding. It definitely needs cleaning up. Where’s the med kit?”
“Second biggest pocket,” Dean says, pointing a thumb at his own backpack.
Sam stands up and tugs at the zipper on Dean’s pack, letting himself recover from having his hands on Dean’s skin. It had been so smooth and soft, and the freckles, that beautiful dusting of them just below the waistline of Dean’s jeans. He readjusts himself so it’s not so obvious how he’s responded and concentrates on getting the antiseptic wipe unfolded from the foil packet. “Here it comes,” Sam warns, gently wiping the thing across the worst injuries.
Dean hisses and pulls away, Sam stops him with a hand on the bare skin of his waist. He squeezes gently and feels his brother vibrate with the stinging pain. “Almost done, don’t be a big baby.”
“It stings like a motherfucker,” Dean hisses.
“Definitely not something you’d hear a baby say,” Sam says with a laugh.
Dean turns around in his grip, so he’s facing Sam. He’s so close, and Sam’s hand is still on the warm skin of Dean’s waist. “How about you, got any booboos for me to check out?”
Sam looks at him and wonders for a crazy second if this thing is mutual, could that be possible in any conceivable way? Could he be that lucky in any known or theoretical universe?
“Sam?”
Sam ducks his head, thankful for the cover of his bangs, he can feel the hot blush on his cheeks. “I’m fine, turn around and I’ll stick this back in your pack,” Sam says in a mumble, fumbling the med kit closed and tucking the used antiseptic wipe into his pocket.
“Saving that for later?” Dean asks.
“What?”
“If you really want to carry around my blood in your pocket, then have at it, I guess,” Dean says.
“It’s not…that wasn’t what I…never mind,” Sam says as Dean steps away from him, heading back up the hill they’d tumbled down.
“Just keep your eyes peeled for that thing,” Dean calls over his shoulder.
“Sure, I’ll be watching out for nothing, got it,” Sam scoffs.
Dean stops and turns around, above him on the hill so he’s blocking out the sun. “It was coming for us. Well, no, it was coming for you, Sammy. I saw the thing, and whatever it was, it was ready to…I don’t know, eat you up or something. So just be careful, that’s all,” Dean says.
They hike for several hours, the sun starting to sink lower in the sky. The trail markings are getting harder to see clearly. Sam’s about to suggest turning around and heading back for the car when Dean stops abruptly. Sam puts his arms out to avoid head butting the back of Dean’s head, and his hands land on Dean’s waist. Dean stumbles back a few steps, slamming into Sam and nearly knocking him over. Sam’s feet scrabble on the rocky hillside, finally catching on a solid rock. Dean’s body is thrumming with something, Sam can feel it seeping through his fingers.
“What’s going on?” Sam whispers, because Dean is so silent.
Dean turns around, ending up in Sam’s arms and everything in Sam’s world changes in the next moment. Dean’s lips are on his, warm and soft and all the feelings he’s been hiding surge through him. He holds Dean close to his body, and he can feel that the thrumming is still happening, going on and on, like Dean’s fighting himself. He tilts his head to fit their mouths together better, slipping his tongue through and into the warmth of Dean’s mouth. Dean responds instantly, kissing him back, over and over. It’s the best surprise Sam’s ever gotten to experience.
*****
To Part Two