FIC - For Us
Title: For Us
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
W/C: ~2K
Summary: What they mean to each other. Pre-series.
Hot, hot, so damn hot. That was the only thing Sam could think of as he took his last lap around the most recent crappy rental house their dad had procured for them.
It was July, they were in Tennessee, and he was sixteen. All of which added together to knock his natural level of pissy up to the next notch.
Especially since their dad wasn’t even there. Dean…stupid Dean, perfect little soldier Dean, obedient Dean…had insisted that they both complete John’s dumbass training regimen even though there was no way their father would know if they’d cut corners.
Probably. The man had a way of figuring things out.
Finishing his last turn around the house, about a minute ahead of his brother (HA, those long skinny legs that Dean made fun of were good for something, weren’t they?), he collapsed onto the front steps. There was really nothing he could do but strip off his t-shirt and take deep breaths in an attempt to recover.
Dean, though…stupid Dean, perfect little soldier Dean, obedient Dean (best big brother in the world Dean) joined him soon after with a bottle of cold water. Sam almost drank it all down before his brother urged him to take it slow. And Sam (where did he get off mocking Dean’s obedience?) did exactly as he said, slowing down and just swallowing small gulps at a time.
After a few minutes, Sam started to feel a little better. He got his breath back and the water cooled him down some. Crossing the imaginary finish line of a long run before his brother was easier now that his legs had gotten so damn long, but it still took a fairly considerable amount of effort.
“Let’s go inside, Sammy, come on”, Dean urged.
“All right. A little crappy air conditioning is better than none, right?”
Sam treasured the grin that little comment teased from his brother’s face. There was nothing in the world quite like Dean’s smile.
To another person, it might have looked crooked, like a smirk, something put on, affected. But Sam knew better. What he was seeing was real. It was Dean’s genuine smile, the one that seemed similar to what other people saw but in actuality was something only ever seen by Sam. It was perfect and special and saved only for him, which just made it that much better.
Making their way inside, Dean took his shirt off too, and Sam stopped a minute to appreciate the view. Sure, there were a few girls from one town to the next who got to see how Dean’s muscles rippled under his skin, how his freckles stood out from the slight pink of his tone caused by the sun. But only Sam appreciated it as much as it should be appreciated.
Those girls might think, ‘oh, that’s hot’, or ‘this guy’s ripped’, but Sam got something entirely different.
Sam got a brother who made him train even when he didn’t want to, so that he wouldn’t get in trouble with their dad.
Sam got a brother who helped him with his homework and made sure he got up in time for school on weekday mornings.
Sam got a brother who made sure he had three decent meals a day, no matter what he had to do to make it happen.
Sometimes Sam wasn’t sure what Dean had to do to make that happen, but he knew better than to ask.
Either way, Sam had Dean.
Dean cheered him up two months earlier when he flubbed a test he thought he could ace.
Dean brought him a cupcake with a candle in it after John hadn’t shown up for his sixteenth birthday.
Dean took him to a movie last week when their A/C crapped out and it was a hundred degrees in their shitty rented house.
Dean fixed the stupid window-unit air conditioner with a screwdriver and a few smooth moves of his wrist.
Dean loved him.
Really loved him.
Not the way that he pretended to love those random girls in random parking lots in random towns.
Not the way his dad loved him (kind of, he guessed, most of the time he felt like John just tolerated him).
Not the way Bobby or Pastor Jim loved him, unconditionally but in the way adults love children they’ve known for years.
Dean loved Sam.
Sam never worried about being hungry, because he knew Dean would always find a way to feed him.
Sam never worried about being lonely, because he knew Dean would happily blow off some hot chick he met in a diner to make sure Sam didn’t spend the night alone.
Sam never worried about being safe, because he knew Dean would die before he let anything or anyone get to Sam, ever, which was as comforting as it was scary.
Sam never woke up alone, because he knew Dean would be there every time, sharing his bed and never trying to run from their intimacy.
And yeah, fine, this wasn’t the way things were supposed to be with brothers, but nothing in their life was the way it was supposed to be, so who the hell cared?
Not Sam. Not Dean.
When no one was around to see, it was all right for Sam to cry into Dean’s shoulder when he was feeling low.
When no one was around to see, it was all right for them to kiss and hold each other so neither of them felt like they were alone in the world.
When no one was around to see, Sam got that smile.
That one that just belonged to him.
That one that was real and true and didn’t hide anything.
That one that reminded them both how much they meant to each other.
No one else needed to know.
Whatever this was, it didn’t belong to other people.
It was Sam’s.
It was Dean’s.
It wasn’t anyone else’s.
Sam didn’t need to know, either, Dean thought.
Didn’t need to know that Sam’s smile meant as much to Dean as his meant to Sam.
Didn’t need to know that sometimes Dean shoplifted the food he brought home.
Didn’t need to know that as important as he felt Dean was to him, Sam was every bit as important to Dean.
Sam’s happiness was everything.
Sam’s kiss was everything.
Sam’s safety was everything.
Everything that meant anything to Dean, anyway.
So maybe it would be many years later before they finally said the words out loud.
Didn’t make a difference.
“Scoot over, Stretch. Don’t hog the whole couch.”
Sam flopped his feet to the floor and moved about six inches to the left, then looked up at Dean with a mischievous grin. “Good enough?”
“Too hot to cuddle, you giant girl”, Dean complained, but he still sat down in a space that left no more than an inch between them.
“Shut up. I fucked with the antenna and we’re getting Animaniacs reruns.”
Right here, during this summer they spent in a ramshackle house on the edge of some no-name town in Tennessee, the only thing that mattered was that they had each other.
It was enough.
More than enough.
For both of them.
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13
W/C: ~2K
Summary: What they mean to each other. Pre-series.
Hot, hot, so damn hot. That was the only thing Sam could think of as he took his last lap around the most recent crappy rental house their dad had procured for them.
It was July, they were in Tennessee, and he was sixteen. All of which added together to knock his natural level of pissy up to the next notch.
Especially since their dad wasn’t even there. Dean…stupid Dean, perfect little soldier Dean, obedient Dean…had insisted that they both complete John’s dumbass training regimen even though there was no way their father would know if they’d cut corners.
Probably. The man had a way of figuring things out.
Finishing his last turn around the house, about a minute ahead of his brother (HA, those long skinny legs that Dean made fun of were good for something, weren’t they?), he collapsed onto the front steps. There was really nothing he could do but strip off his t-shirt and take deep breaths in an attempt to recover.
Dean, though…stupid Dean, perfect little soldier Dean, obedient Dean (best big brother in the world Dean) joined him soon after with a bottle of cold water. Sam almost drank it all down before his brother urged him to take it slow. And Sam (where did he get off mocking Dean’s obedience?) did exactly as he said, slowing down and just swallowing small gulps at a time.
After a few minutes, Sam started to feel a little better. He got his breath back and the water cooled him down some. Crossing the imaginary finish line of a long run before his brother was easier now that his legs had gotten so damn long, but it still took a fairly considerable amount of effort.
“Let’s go inside, Sammy, come on”, Dean urged.
“All right. A little crappy air conditioning is better than none, right?”
Sam treasured the grin that little comment teased from his brother’s face. There was nothing in the world quite like Dean’s smile.
To another person, it might have looked crooked, like a smirk, something put on, affected. But Sam knew better. What he was seeing was real. It was Dean’s genuine smile, the one that seemed similar to what other people saw but in actuality was something only ever seen by Sam. It was perfect and special and saved only for him, which just made it that much better.
Making their way inside, Dean took his shirt off too, and Sam stopped a minute to appreciate the view. Sure, there were a few girls from one town to the next who got to see how Dean’s muscles rippled under his skin, how his freckles stood out from the slight pink of his tone caused by the sun. But only Sam appreciated it as much as it should be appreciated.
Those girls might think, ‘oh, that’s hot’, or ‘this guy’s ripped’, but Sam got something entirely different.
Sam got a brother who made him train even when he didn’t want to, so that he wouldn’t get in trouble with their dad.
Sam got a brother who helped him with his homework and made sure he got up in time for school on weekday mornings.
Sam got a brother who made sure he had three decent meals a day, no matter what he had to do to make it happen.
Sometimes Sam wasn’t sure what Dean had to do to make that happen, but he knew better than to ask.
Either way, Sam had Dean.
Dean cheered him up two months earlier when he flubbed a test he thought he could ace.
Dean brought him a cupcake with a candle in it after John hadn’t shown up for his sixteenth birthday.
Dean took him to a movie last week when their A/C crapped out and it was a hundred degrees in their shitty rented house.
Dean fixed the stupid window-unit air conditioner with a screwdriver and a few smooth moves of his wrist.
Dean loved him.
Really loved him.
Not the way that he pretended to love those random girls in random parking lots in random towns.
Not the way his dad loved him (kind of, he guessed, most of the time he felt like John just tolerated him).
Not the way Bobby or Pastor Jim loved him, unconditionally but in the way adults love children they’ve known for years.
Dean loved Sam.
Sam never worried about being hungry, because he knew Dean would always find a way to feed him.
Sam never worried about being lonely, because he knew Dean would happily blow off some hot chick he met in a diner to make sure Sam didn’t spend the night alone.
Sam never worried about being safe, because he knew Dean would die before he let anything or anyone get to Sam, ever, which was as comforting as it was scary.
Sam never woke up alone, because he knew Dean would be there every time, sharing his bed and never trying to run from their intimacy.
And yeah, fine, this wasn’t the way things were supposed to be with brothers, but nothing in their life was the way it was supposed to be, so who the hell cared?
Not Sam. Not Dean.
When no one was around to see, it was all right for Sam to cry into Dean’s shoulder when he was feeling low.
When no one was around to see, it was all right for them to kiss and hold each other so neither of them felt like they were alone in the world.
When no one was around to see, Sam got that smile.
That one that just belonged to him.
That one that was real and true and didn’t hide anything.
That one that reminded them both how much they meant to each other.
No one else needed to know.
Whatever this was, it didn’t belong to other people.
It was Sam’s.
It was Dean’s.
It wasn’t anyone else’s.
Sam didn’t need to know, either, Dean thought.
Didn’t need to know that Sam’s smile meant as much to Dean as his meant to Sam.
Didn’t need to know that sometimes Dean shoplifted the food he brought home.
Didn’t need to know that as important as he felt Dean was to him, Sam was every bit as important to Dean.
Sam’s happiness was everything.
Sam’s kiss was everything.
Sam’s safety was everything.
Everything that meant anything to Dean, anyway.
So maybe it would be many years later before they finally said the words out loud.
Didn’t make a difference.
“Scoot over, Stretch. Don’t hog the whole couch.”
Sam flopped his feet to the floor and moved about six inches to the left, then looked up at Dean with a mischievous grin. “Good enough?”
“Too hot to cuddle, you giant girl”, Dean complained, but he still sat down in a space that left no more than an inch between them.
“Shut up. I fucked with the antenna and we’re getting Animaniacs reruns.”
Right here, during this summer they spent in a ramshackle house on the edge of some no-name town in Tennessee, the only thing that mattered was that they had each other.
It was enough.
More than enough.
For both of them.