Oxygen (or Four times Dean tells Sam to breathe, and one time Sam tells Dean)
Title: Oxygen (or Four times Dean tells Sam to breathe, and one time Sam tells Dean)
Author: siriuslyyellow
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Wincest, incest, slash, language, sex, fluff, angst, body mutilation (for lack of a better warning -.-;; )
Spoilers: Up to the end of season 3. *sobs*
Word Count: 3,985
Challenge: jelost, firefly, rust, scar, “Breathe.”
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except for three pennies. But Supernatural, Sam, Dean, and all that great stuff belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW, much to my dismay. So please don’t sue me. Unless you’d like my three pennies. *gives* ^.^;;
Beta Acknowledgement: Once again, I must give out thanks, love, cookies, and wincest to kowaiyoukai for her awesome beta job. Arigato, nee-chan! *glomps* ^__^* Also, I made the final adjustments to this story myself, so any errors are fully mine. -.-;;
Summary: Four times Dean tells Sam to breathe, and one time Sam tells Dean.
A/N: This fic is dedicated to jelost, whose June 2008 challenge this was over at wincest_fic. This fic is based off of the five things meme that’s been going around. When I saw this challenge I thought it was so freaking awesome, I just had to try and do something equally awesome with it. So, I decided to write a five times fic where each of the times would use all four parts of the challenge: firefly, rust, scar, and “Breathe.” Hopefully it worked and you all will enjoy it! *gives love and wincest* ^__^*
He heard yelling and some thrashing, and that was what woke him up. A glance over at the bed next to his told him that his ten-year-old little brother was having a nightmare.
Dean didn’t think, he just reacted, jumped out of his bed and across to the other in less than a moment, and began to shake Sammy awake before he realized he was doing it.
“Sammy?” Dean shook his brother harder. He was getting really worried now. If Sammy continued to flail his arms and legs like that, he might scratch them against the rust-covered bed frame. He was still young, not yet ten. His body still wasn’t hardened and adjusted to hunting. A mark like that could leave a scar. “Sammy, wake up!”
Sammy woke up shivering in a cold sweat, and immediately sat up. “Dean. Dean.”
Dean put his arms around his brother. “I’m here, Sammy, shh. It’s okay. Breathe.”
Relief flooded Sammy’s face as he grabbed onto Dean’s back. He was mumbling and Dean couldn’t make it out. But it didn’t really matter what sort of nightmare Sammy had dreamt or what he was trying to say, because Dean effortlessly took over the role of being the comforting big brother, and soothed Sammy with quiet murmurs and gentle hands.
After a few minutes, Dean ventured, “Are you okay?”
Sammy nodded, rubbing his nose dry with his palm. He tried to explain, “I… It was… Heh.” Shaking his head, he wiped his palm off on Dean’s shirt.
“Ew! Gross, dude!” Dean jumped away, pulled off his shirt and threw it across the room. Then he smirked, ruffled Sammy’s hair, and laid back down in his own bed.
Dean knew it was coming, and sure enough, in less than sixty seconds Sammy had meandered over to Dean’s bed and began to pull on his older brother’s arm.
“Dean…”
Lifting up the sheet to let Sammy in, Dean heard the bed creak and felt it move as Sammy crawled in. Dean was used to this closeness now, and vaguely wondered what it would be like when Sammy was too old to sleep in his brother’s bed anymore. Dean anxiously hoped that would never happen. He liked being close to Sammy. Close like this.
Once Sammy was settled, he pointed out the hotel room window. Dean turned his head to look. He could see a few fireflies dancing under the vacancy sign. They would light up, then vanish, and Dean would lose sight of them until they lit up again. The fireflies reminded Dean of their old house, and of their mom, and of Sammy tucked carefully into his crib. After watching them for a while, Dean looked back down at Sammy, who was already asleep. Dean settled down into the familiar weight of his brother next to him, closed his eyes, and hoped to finally get some sleep himself.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They had just gotten back from a hunt. John told his boys to rest up. Dean had a slight wound, nothing serious, but they were always careful when one of them got injured. Sam had a test the next day, and both Dean and John knew that Sam wouldn’t ever let it go if he didn’t get an A+ in his sophomore year of social studies. As if Sam could ever not get an A+.
Their father left Sam and Dean alone in their room for the night. It wasn’t a great room, but it wasn’t the worst they’d ever seen, either. Dean was sitting on his bed, trying to bandage up his shoulder. As he glanced at it, the blood hardened to a rust color, and he realized two things. One, he would need some help putting a bandage on the cut. Two, it would probably leave a scar.
There wasn’t anything he could do about the latter, but the former…
“Sam,” Dean called his brother, and gestured for him to come over.
Sam hurried over. “Yeah, Dean? What’s up?” He looked down, flicked his tongue over his lips, and then looked quickly back up.
Dean nodded towards his shoulder. “Help me with this, would you? I can’t get the back.”
Gulping, Sam nodded and sat down behind Dean on the bed. His hands were shaking as he wrapped the bandage around Dean’s shoulder. Dean felt it and took one of Sam’s hands with one of his own. He looked over his shoulder at Sam, who appeared to be hyperventilating.
“Sam? What’s wrong?” After a moment of silence, Dean continued, “You’re not nervous about that test, are you? Come on, little brother. You’ve never met a standardized test you couldn’t beat.”
Sam shook his head. “That’s… That’s not it.”
“Okay… So, what? Early arthritis?”
Sam laughed and shook his head again. Dean swung his knee around so that he was facing Sam. He was about to say something else when Sam put his hands on either side of Dean’s face.
Dean could swear he felt his heart stop. “Um, Sammy?”
His younger brother didn’t answer. Instead, he moved to stand in front of Dean, and then placed one leg on either side of Dean’s so that Sam was straddling him. Sam’s hands never left Dean’s face.
Dean put his hands out behind him, tried to move backwards, but that only gave Sam a better angle, and when Sam shifted, both of them gasped.
Dean, awkward and confused and elated and terrified, whispered, “Sam?”
Sam leaned in, shaking harder than before, and tried to kiss Dean. Tried, and failed, since their noses bumped together thanks to Sam’s shakiness.
Dean laughed, relief from the tension flooding through him, and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Sam looked upset, dropped his hands, and went to get up, but Dean held firmly onto his waist so he couldn’t move, and Sam didn’t really struggle.
Sam blushed and stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. This, ah… This went better in my head.”
The corner of Dean’s mouth lifted in a true smile. “It’s okay, Sammy. I got this one. Just..,” Dean licked his lips, wrapped his palm and fingers around the back of Sam’s neck, pulled him close, leaned in so that his lips were brushing against Sam’s, and finished, “Breathe.”
Then he kissed Sam, and it was everything he had imagined it would be, all those times he was pretending he wasn’t thinking about it. Sam let Dean in, let Dean explore his mouth until his older brother finally pulled away, smiling.
Dean’s smile quickly turned into a smirk. “Not bad, Sammy.”
Sam smiled and shook his head in exasperation, then punched Dean playfully on the shoulder. “Oh, shut up.”
That began a loud wrestling match which ended up with Sam on top of Dean, the mattress halfway off the bed, and the lamp upside-down on the floor. They paused and winced at the last, waited for the shouting from the other room to start, any second now, and watched as the light bulb flickered like a firefly before going out completely.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
While searching for their father, and killing whatever evil sons of bitches got in the way, one of those fuckers had hurt Sam. They had hurt Sam bad.
Dean ran over to Sam’s side as the damn creature finally evaporated into nothingness. He fell to his knees and grabbed onto the front of Sam’s shirt, shaking him roughly.
“Sam! Sam!” Dean called out, eyes starting to tear up as the seconds ticked by and Sam didn’t move.
Dean laid Sam back down and felt for his younger brother’s pulse. He couldn’t find it. Dean immediately began to do mouth to mouth resuscitation before it occurred to him that he wasn’t properly trained and should probably be calling an ambulance. After two rounds of breathing into Sam’s mouth, Sam’s eyes popped open and he started gasping for air.
Dean, relieved beyond all measure, gruffly soothed, “It’s okay, Sam. Breathe. I’m here. I got you. Just breathe.”
Sam looked up at Dean and took three long, slow breaths. “What happened?”
Shaking his head, Dean explained, “What happened was that fucker almost killed you! You gotta be more careful, Sammy. Thank God I was there to protect your ass, or who the heck would? That asshole had a long knife, man. It looked dirty, too.” Dean lifted up Sam’s shirt to see where the monster had stabbed him. “Oh, gross. It looks like it might get infected. Do you think that knife was rusty? Ah, shit, I bet it’ll scar.”
Sam, still breathing hard, replied, “So what? We have other scars, and we’ll get more. No big deal.”
Dean growled, “It is a big deal. I should have paid closer attention to you.” He placed his hand over Sam’s wound. “It’ll be my fault if it scars, this time.”
Sam placed his hand over Dean’s and squeezed it reassuringly. “I’m okay, Dean.” He gave a small laugh. “What’s up with you?”
Dean cocked an eyebrow. “What?”
Sam waved his hand in Dean’s general direction. “This whole freaking out over an injury thing. Normally you’re so cool and collected about hunting, I just thought you didn’t think it was a big deal.”
Dean placed his free hand behind Sam’s head and pulled it to rest on his shoulder. He kissed the top of Sam’s head and whispered, possibly too quiet even for Sam to catch, “I always think it’s a big deal.” Then he cleared his throat and said, louder, “You nearly died, Sam. What did you expect me to be like?”
Sam murmured agreement, nuzzled into Dean’s shoulder, then winced and quipped, “This is really great, but can I take a rain check? I think I should go to the hospital to get stitches. You know, let a professional take care of it.”
Dean nodded, shook his head at his stupidity, and helped Sam up. Sam yelped and Dean held onto him tighter.
“I’m okay,” Sam assured Dean. “Just… Hospital, please.”
Dean helped Sam get into the Impala and drove quickly away. After about five minutes, they passed a sign pointing in the direction of the nearest hospital. Dean broke at least four different traffic laws as he made a u-turn in the middle of the street, oncoming headlights looking like distant fireflies before becoming motion trails, as he rushed to get Sam to the emergency room. Sam was quick to point out that if Dean kept driving like a maniac, they’d just get injured further. Dean was quick to tell him to shut up.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They had been making out occasionally for a while now. Dean wasn’t sure exactly how long he was expected to wait, but he knew that he had definitely waited long enough.
It had been years since he and Sam had become physical in that way with each other. Dean had tried to keep it under control, mostly out of respect for John since he didn’t even want to imagine their father’s reaction if he ever found out. But now that John was dead, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of Dean’s shoulders. Sure, he missed the guy. It was his father, after all. But the thought of finally being able to be with Sam, really with him, almost sent Dean over the edge. They didn’t have to worry about what their father thought anymore. And it had been over a year since he died, so Dean was pretty sure Sam was thinking the same thing.
So, when he pulled into a fancy hotel that night instead of a cheap motel, he was kind of surprised at Sam’s confusion.
“What are we doing here, Dean? We don’t have this kind of cash.” Sam looked around at the place and raised his eyebrows questioningly at Dean.
Dean replied, “Isn’t it obvious? We’re getting a room.” He was out of the car before Sam finished protesting.
Dean had procured them a room, parked the car, and took Sam’s things along with his own.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Sam questioned Dean again.
Dean just laughed and shook his head. “All in good time, Sammy. All in good time.”
When they had taken the elevator up to their room and Dean opened the door, Sam thought they must have gotten the room keys mixed up at the desk. Their room was big, huge even, with one gigantic bed in the middle. There were heart pillows scattered about, and little hearts on the wallpaper that looked like fireflies. It was a pink bonanza, and vaguely terrifying.
Sam choked out, “Dean..? This is the honeymoon suite.”
Dean grinned widely. “The girl at the desk thought we were together. I decided to not correct her.” He plopped the bags down inside of the room by the closet, then went back over to Sam and kissed his cheek. “Welcome home.”
Sam rolled his eyes on principle, but couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. “So, a night living the good life? I could go for that.” Sam went over to sit down on the couch and turned on the television. “You can have first shower.”
Dean bit his lip. Man, why the heck was he so nervous? He had planned this. He knew Sam wanted it just as bad as he did. Or, at least, he hoped.
Dean took two deep breaths and went over to turn off the television.
Sam protested, “Hey, I was watching that!”
Dean ignored him, and turned on the charm. Big time. He smirked at Sam, lowered his eyelids to half-mast, and took his time looking Sam up, then down, and then up again, until he finally met Sam’s eyes. Sam’s mouth was slightly open.
Sam stood up and crossed the gap in less than no time, pushing Dean against the wall.
Dean went more than willingly. He licked his way inside of Sam’s mouth slowly, teasing him until Sam began moaning. Dean loved it when Sam moaned.
Dean led Sam to the bed, pushed him down onto it, and then climbed on top of him. Dean used his advantage to remove Sam’s shirt, and Sam was tugging at Dean’s before he pulled it over Dean’s head.
They were kissing each other’s mouths, necks, chests, and all the way down to their navels. Dean started breathing faster, and went for Sam’s belt. Sam groaned, and God, it was so hot. Dean began to unbuckle Sam’s jeans as Sam undid Dean’s. They both kicked their pants, shoes, and socks off and onto the floor, their boxers the only thing remaining.
Sam went to reach his hand into Dean’s boxers but Dean grabbed it and kissed Sam’s palm instead. Sam was smiling, happy but clearly confused, and Dean cleared his throat.
“Sam, I..,” Dean began, then stopped, took a breath, and tried again. “Sam.” He nuzzled into Sam’s neck and then sucked enticingly on the edge of his earlobe. Dean whispered into Sam’s ear, “I want you.” He reached his right hand behind Sam to circle his little brother’s hole. Realization filled Sam’s face as his eyes widened and his cheeks turned scarlet. Dean kept his hand there, waiting for Sam to give him the okay. A minute later, Dean realized Sam was unsure.
Dean was crushed, but hid it instantly. He smiled, withdrew his hand, and sat back on his haunches. “It’s cool, Sam. No big.” Dean got off of Sam and sat on the edge of the bed, bending over to reach for his jeans. “You just wanna watch some T.V.?”
Strong and shaky hands wrapped around Dean’s waist. Dean moaned, tilting his head back into the air. Sam suckled at Dean’s neck.
Dean gulped as he felt Sam’s mouth on his throat. Dean asked, softly, “Sam, you… you wanna? With me? It’s okay… if you don’t…” Dean needed to be sure.
Sam’s laugh came out strangled. He whispered, “I’ve been waiting so long… Dean.” The last word came out sounding like a plea.
Dean couldn’t take it when Sam begged. The thought alone almost sent him over right there. He turned around to face his younger brother, and laid Sam down underneath him. Dean held up one finger, jumped off the bed, grabbed lubricant and condoms from his duffel, and then straddled Sam.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’re well prepared.”
Dean smirked. “I was kinda planning this.” Sam opened his mouth in mock surprise. Dean explained, “Well, I had been wanting to, and I didn’t think you’d want our first time to be in a crappy motel room, and neither did I, so yeah.” He shrugged, and looked at Sam for some sort of response.
Sam put his elbows behind him to sit halfway up. “Why, Dean Winchester, you sly dog.” They both laughed, then Sam kissed Dean. The kiss had no trace of humor. It was all passion and longing, and Dean felt his cock twitch at the thought of what they were about to do.
Dean pulled off both of their boxers as Sam laid back down. His legs were hanging off the bed, so Dean pushed him up towards the middle.
Sam began to roll over so his stomach was face down, but Dean stopped him. “I wanna see you,” Dean murmured.
Dean saw Sam’s dick twitch, and Sam nodded quickly. “All right,” Sam breathed.
Dean opened the bottle of lube and smeared some on his fingers. Then he put his arm underneath Sam once more, this time pushing one of his fingers up into Sam’s tight hole. Sam gasped, and bit his lower lip hard. Dean saw that he drew blood.
Dean’s brow furrowed. “You’ve never..?”
Sam shook his head. “No. You?”
Dean shook his head. “Me neither.” He leaned down to kiss Sam, and the blood on Sam’s lip tasted like rust. “It’s okay, I got you.”
Sam nodded, and wrapped his hand around Dean’s dick, slowly jerking him off. Dean gasped, and after moving around a single finger, he inserted a second, causing Sam to grab onto his shoulders. Sam completely forgot to stroke Dean’s dick when Dean slid in a third finger, but that was okay since Dean was already hard enough to fuck Sam ten times. In a row.
Which, if at all humanly possible, he intended to do. And if it wasn’t humanly possible, he was damn well going to try anyway.
Dean lifted up Sam’s legs and aligned his cock with Sam’s ass. Sam wrapped his legs over Dean’s shoulders, then bit the wrapper off of a condom and slid it on Dean.
Dean’s green eyes met Sam’s and held them. Sam nodded.
The first time Dean pushed into Sam had to be the best moment of Dean’s life. Ever. Sam was tight and wet, and God, the look on Sam’s face was enough to make Dean completely lose it, but he knew he had to go slow. He had to let Sam get accustomed to the feel of Dean inside him. It would be uncomfortable, at least at first. Dean didn’t want to scare his brother off.
So, once Dean was all the way in, he didn’t move. He waited for Sam to unclench around him. After a minute, when Sam still hadn’t loosened up and Dean was pretty sure he was holding his breath, Dean bent down and kissed Sam’s navel, and then his lips.
“Breathe,” Dean said, and Sam let out a breath. Dean felt Sam getting less tense around him, so he pulled out a bit, testing, and then pushed back in. Sam’s fingers clawed at Dean’s shoulder, leaving thin lines that almost looked like scars in their wake. Dean asked, “Does it hurt?”
Sam bit his lip, clenched his eyes closed, and nodded. Dean leaned over to whisper nonsense soothing words into Sam’s ear. After another minute, Dean pulled out and pushed in one more time. Sam gasped and Dean felt his brother’s nails leaving traces on his biceps.
“Sammy,” Dean choked out, “We can stop. Really.”
“No.” Sam opened his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ve wanted this since I was fifteen, Dean. I can’t wait any longer.” Dean looked down at Sam. Sam mouthed, “Please.”
And that was all Dean needed to begin a slow, steady rhythm of pumping into his brother.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The ritual to get a soul back from hell was not a pleasant one.
Sam was kneeling, shaking uncontrollably, his eyes shut tight. He was in the middle of a circle created after the ritual was complete. It was a circle of destruction, one that caused everything in it to die instantly. Except for the two people involved in it, of course. That was why Sam picked this ritual. It was the only one he could find that he’d be able to live through.
Dean was in front of him, in the center in the circle. Sam’s knees were touching Dean’s waist, Sam’s hands clasping desperately onto the edge of his brother’s wrecked shirt. He could feel that Dean still wasn’t moving. Sam chanced a glance, saw his brother’s body surrounded by dead grass and fireflies, and quickly closed his eyes again.
He screamed and begged and pleaded and prayed. But Dean wouldn’t move. Sam laid over him, crying, and held onto Dean’s body, trying to shake it into life.
“Breathe,” Sam gasped out in-between sobs. “Please, I’ll… I’ll do anything--anything--just breathe.”
After what seemed like another lifetime of waiting, Sam looked down at the tools he had used for the ritual, his eyes focusing on a knife. There was blood on it, both his and Dean’s, caked so hard it appeared to be rust. Sam reached out and took it. If he couldn’t have Dean back, even after all of this, then he would just have to go and meet him.
Sam held the knife pointed at his chest. There was no point in living anyway, not without Dean.
He took a few steadying breaths, then got a firm grip on the knife. He gave a hollow shout, about to plunge the knife into him to end it all, when he felt Dean move against his knee. Sam looked down, saw that Dean was still unmoving, and thought he must just be hallucinating out of hope and desperation. He shook his head, and that was when he saw Dean’s fingers curl. Sam looked down, eyes wide open now, completely focused on Dean, and saw his big brother’s eyelids flutter open for the first time in eight months.
Dean tried to open his mouth, but he couldn’t. His body had become atrophied, regardless of how many shady medical practices Sam had used to keep it healthy. But Sam was prepared for that. He grabbed a bottle of water, carefully opened Dean’s mouth using a forefinger to pry his lips apart, and let a few drops of water fall onto his brother’s dry lips.
Dean was trying to tell Sam something, using only his eyes and what little gestures he could make. Sam saw his eyes gesture down to the knife and then up to Sam’s face. That was when Sam remembered what the ritual had cost him, shook his head, and smiled, uncaring.
Sam put a hand up to the place where his left eye used to be, his fingers ghosting over the wound on his cheek that was going to leave an angry scar. Then he used that same hand to trace his left eyeball, which he had hastily implanted into his brother’s chest. Dean’s eyes widened, confused and horrified.
Sam stared sobbing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He hugged Dean, kissing him greedily. Sam pulled away and looked into his brother’s eyes. “But Dean… What was I supposed to do, huh? I mean- you just--and I--and--and we… We… What was I supposed to do?!”
Dean’s eyes softened, and Sam hoped his brother was trying to say it was okay.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
fin.
All kinds of feedback are welcomed and loved! ^__^*
Author: siriuslyyellow
Rating: NC-17
Warning(s): Wincest, incest, slash, language, sex, fluff, angst, body mutilation (for lack of a better warning -.-;; )
Spoilers: Up to the end of season 3. *sobs*
Word Count: 3,985
Challenge: jelost, firefly, rust, scar, “Breathe.”
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except for three pennies. But Supernatural, Sam, Dean, and all that great stuff belongs to Eric Kripke and the CW, much to my dismay. So please don’t sue me. Unless you’d like my three pennies. *gives* ^.^;;
Beta Acknowledgement: Once again, I must give out thanks, love, cookies, and wincest to kowaiyoukai for her awesome beta job. Arigato, nee-chan! *glomps* ^__^* Also, I made the final adjustments to this story myself, so any errors are fully mine. -.-;;
Summary: Four times Dean tells Sam to breathe, and one time Sam tells Dean.
A/N: This fic is dedicated to jelost, whose June 2008 challenge this was over at wincest_fic. This fic is based off of the five things meme that’s been going around. When I saw this challenge I thought it was so freaking awesome, I just had to try and do something equally awesome with it. So, I decided to write a five times fic where each of the times would use all four parts of the challenge: firefly, rust, scar, and “Breathe.” Hopefully it worked and you all will enjoy it! *gives love and wincest* ^__^*
He heard yelling and some thrashing, and that was what woke him up. A glance over at the bed next to his told him that his ten-year-old little brother was having a nightmare.
Dean didn’t think, he just reacted, jumped out of his bed and across to the other in less than a moment, and began to shake Sammy awake before he realized he was doing it.
“Sammy?” Dean shook his brother harder. He was getting really worried now. If Sammy continued to flail his arms and legs like that, he might scratch them against the rust-covered bed frame. He was still young, not yet ten. His body still wasn’t hardened and adjusted to hunting. A mark like that could leave a scar. “Sammy, wake up!”
Sammy woke up shivering in a cold sweat, and immediately sat up. “Dean. Dean.”
Dean put his arms around his brother. “I’m here, Sammy, shh. It’s okay. Breathe.”
Relief flooded Sammy’s face as he grabbed onto Dean’s back. He was mumbling and Dean couldn’t make it out. But it didn’t really matter what sort of nightmare Sammy had dreamt or what he was trying to say, because Dean effortlessly took over the role of being the comforting big brother, and soothed Sammy with quiet murmurs and gentle hands.
After a few minutes, Dean ventured, “Are you okay?”
Sammy nodded, rubbing his nose dry with his palm. He tried to explain, “I… It was… Heh.” Shaking his head, he wiped his palm off on Dean’s shirt.
“Ew! Gross, dude!” Dean jumped away, pulled off his shirt and threw it across the room. Then he smirked, ruffled Sammy’s hair, and laid back down in his own bed.
Dean knew it was coming, and sure enough, in less than sixty seconds Sammy had meandered over to Dean’s bed and began to pull on his older brother’s arm.
“Dean…”
Lifting up the sheet to let Sammy in, Dean heard the bed creak and felt it move as Sammy crawled in. Dean was used to this closeness now, and vaguely wondered what it would be like when Sammy was too old to sleep in his brother’s bed anymore. Dean anxiously hoped that would never happen. He liked being close to Sammy. Close like this.
Once Sammy was settled, he pointed out the hotel room window. Dean turned his head to look. He could see a few fireflies dancing under the vacancy sign. They would light up, then vanish, and Dean would lose sight of them until they lit up again. The fireflies reminded Dean of their old house, and of their mom, and of Sammy tucked carefully into his crib. After watching them for a while, Dean looked back down at Sammy, who was already asleep. Dean settled down into the familiar weight of his brother next to him, closed his eyes, and hoped to finally get some sleep himself.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They had just gotten back from a hunt. John told his boys to rest up. Dean had a slight wound, nothing serious, but they were always careful when one of them got injured. Sam had a test the next day, and both Dean and John knew that Sam wouldn’t ever let it go if he didn’t get an A+ in his sophomore year of social studies. As if Sam could ever not get an A+.
Their father left Sam and Dean alone in their room for the night. It wasn’t a great room, but it wasn’t the worst they’d ever seen, either. Dean was sitting on his bed, trying to bandage up his shoulder. As he glanced at it, the blood hardened to a rust color, and he realized two things. One, he would need some help putting a bandage on the cut. Two, it would probably leave a scar.
There wasn’t anything he could do about the latter, but the former…
“Sam,” Dean called his brother, and gestured for him to come over.
Sam hurried over. “Yeah, Dean? What’s up?” He looked down, flicked his tongue over his lips, and then looked quickly back up.
Dean nodded towards his shoulder. “Help me with this, would you? I can’t get the back.”
Gulping, Sam nodded and sat down behind Dean on the bed. His hands were shaking as he wrapped the bandage around Dean’s shoulder. Dean felt it and took one of Sam’s hands with one of his own. He looked over his shoulder at Sam, who appeared to be hyperventilating.
“Sam? What’s wrong?” After a moment of silence, Dean continued, “You’re not nervous about that test, are you? Come on, little brother. You’ve never met a standardized test you couldn’t beat.”
Sam shook his head. “That’s… That’s not it.”
“Okay… So, what? Early arthritis?”
Sam laughed and shook his head again. Dean swung his knee around so that he was facing Sam. He was about to say something else when Sam put his hands on either side of Dean’s face.
Dean could swear he felt his heart stop. “Um, Sammy?”
His younger brother didn’t answer. Instead, he moved to stand in front of Dean, and then placed one leg on either side of Dean’s so that Sam was straddling him. Sam’s hands never left Dean’s face.
Dean put his hands out behind him, tried to move backwards, but that only gave Sam a better angle, and when Sam shifted, both of them gasped.
Dean, awkward and confused and elated and terrified, whispered, “Sam?”
Sam leaned in, shaking harder than before, and tried to kiss Dean. Tried, and failed, since their noses bumped together thanks to Sam’s shakiness.
Dean laughed, relief from the tension flooding through him, and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Sam looked upset, dropped his hands, and went to get up, but Dean held firmly onto his waist so he couldn’t move, and Sam didn’t really struggle.
Sam blushed and stammered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. This, ah… This went better in my head.”
The corner of Dean’s mouth lifted in a true smile. “It’s okay, Sammy. I got this one. Just..,” Dean licked his lips, wrapped his palm and fingers around the back of Sam’s neck, pulled him close, leaned in so that his lips were brushing against Sam’s, and finished, “Breathe.”
Then he kissed Sam, and it was everything he had imagined it would be, all those times he was pretending he wasn’t thinking about it. Sam let Dean in, let Dean explore his mouth until his older brother finally pulled away, smiling.
Dean’s smile quickly turned into a smirk. “Not bad, Sammy.”
Sam smiled and shook his head in exasperation, then punched Dean playfully on the shoulder. “Oh, shut up.”
That began a loud wrestling match which ended up with Sam on top of Dean, the mattress halfway off the bed, and the lamp upside-down on the floor. They paused and winced at the last, waited for the shouting from the other room to start, any second now, and watched as the light bulb flickered like a firefly before going out completely.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
While searching for their father, and killing whatever evil sons of bitches got in the way, one of those fuckers had hurt Sam. They had hurt Sam bad.
Dean ran over to Sam’s side as the damn creature finally evaporated into nothingness. He fell to his knees and grabbed onto the front of Sam’s shirt, shaking him roughly.
“Sam! Sam!” Dean called out, eyes starting to tear up as the seconds ticked by and Sam didn’t move.
Dean laid Sam back down and felt for his younger brother’s pulse. He couldn’t find it. Dean immediately began to do mouth to mouth resuscitation before it occurred to him that he wasn’t properly trained and should probably be calling an ambulance. After two rounds of breathing into Sam’s mouth, Sam’s eyes popped open and he started gasping for air.
Dean, relieved beyond all measure, gruffly soothed, “It’s okay, Sam. Breathe. I’m here. I got you. Just breathe.”
Sam looked up at Dean and took three long, slow breaths. “What happened?”
Shaking his head, Dean explained, “What happened was that fucker almost killed you! You gotta be more careful, Sammy. Thank God I was there to protect your ass, or who the heck would? That asshole had a long knife, man. It looked dirty, too.” Dean lifted up Sam’s shirt to see where the monster had stabbed him. “Oh, gross. It looks like it might get infected. Do you think that knife was rusty? Ah, shit, I bet it’ll scar.”
Sam, still breathing hard, replied, “So what? We have other scars, and we’ll get more. No big deal.”
Dean growled, “It is a big deal. I should have paid closer attention to you.” He placed his hand over Sam’s wound. “It’ll be my fault if it scars, this time.”
Sam placed his hand over Dean’s and squeezed it reassuringly. “I’m okay, Dean.” He gave a small laugh. “What’s up with you?”
Dean cocked an eyebrow. “What?”
Sam waved his hand in Dean’s general direction. “This whole freaking out over an injury thing. Normally you’re so cool and collected about hunting, I just thought you didn’t think it was a big deal.”
Dean placed his free hand behind Sam’s head and pulled it to rest on his shoulder. He kissed the top of Sam’s head and whispered, possibly too quiet even for Sam to catch, “I always think it’s a big deal.” Then he cleared his throat and said, louder, “You nearly died, Sam. What did you expect me to be like?”
Sam murmured agreement, nuzzled into Dean’s shoulder, then winced and quipped, “This is really great, but can I take a rain check? I think I should go to the hospital to get stitches. You know, let a professional take care of it.”
Dean nodded, shook his head at his stupidity, and helped Sam up. Sam yelped and Dean held onto him tighter.
“I’m okay,” Sam assured Dean. “Just… Hospital, please.”
Dean helped Sam get into the Impala and drove quickly away. After about five minutes, they passed a sign pointing in the direction of the nearest hospital. Dean broke at least four different traffic laws as he made a u-turn in the middle of the street, oncoming headlights looking like distant fireflies before becoming motion trails, as he rushed to get Sam to the emergency room. Sam was quick to point out that if Dean kept driving like a maniac, they’d just get injured further. Dean was quick to tell him to shut up.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They had been making out occasionally for a while now. Dean wasn’t sure exactly how long he was expected to wait, but he knew that he had definitely waited long enough.
It had been years since he and Sam had become physical in that way with each other. Dean had tried to keep it under control, mostly out of respect for John since he didn’t even want to imagine their father’s reaction if he ever found out. But now that John was dead, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of Dean’s shoulders. Sure, he missed the guy. It was his father, after all. But the thought of finally being able to be with Sam, really with him, almost sent Dean over the edge. They didn’t have to worry about what their father thought anymore. And it had been over a year since he died, so Dean was pretty sure Sam was thinking the same thing.
So, when he pulled into a fancy hotel that night instead of a cheap motel, he was kind of surprised at Sam’s confusion.
“What are we doing here, Dean? We don’t have this kind of cash.” Sam looked around at the place and raised his eyebrows questioningly at Dean.
Dean replied, “Isn’t it obvious? We’re getting a room.” He was out of the car before Sam finished protesting.
Dean had procured them a room, parked the car, and took Sam’s things along with his own.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Sam questioned Dean again.
Dean just laughed and shook his head. “All in good time, Sammy. All in good time.”
When they had taken the elevator up to their room and Dean opened the door, Sam thought they must have gotten the room keys mixed up at the desk. Their room was big, huge even, with one gigantic bed in the middle. There were heart pillows scattered about, and little hearts on the wallpaper that looked like fireflies. It was a pink bonanza, and vaguely terrifying.
Sam choked out, “Dean..? This is the honeymoon suite.”
Dean grinned widely. “The girl at the desk thought we were together. I decided to not correct her.” He plopped the bags down inside of the room by the closet, then went back over to Sam and kissed his cheek. “Welcome home.”
Sam rolled his eyes on principle, but couldn’t keep the grin off of his face. “So, a night living the good life? I could go for that.” Sam went over to sit down on the couch and turned on the television. “You can have first shower.”
Dean bit his lip. Man, why the heck was he so nervous? He had planned this. He knew Sam wanted it just as bad as he did. Or, at least, he hoped.
Dean took two deep breaths and went over to turn off the television.
Sam protested, “Hey, I was watching that!”
Dean ignored him, and turned on the charm. Big time. He smirked at Sam, lowered his eyelids to half-mast, and took his time looking Sam up, then down, and then up again, until he finally met Sam’s eyes. Sam’s mouth was slightly open.
Sam stood up and crossed the gap in less than no time, pushing Dean against the wall.
Dean went more than willingly. He licked his way inside of Sam’s mouth slowly, teasing him until Sam began moaning. Dean loved it when Sam moaned.
Dean led Sam to the bed, pushed him down onto it, and then climbed on top of him. Dean used his advantage to remove Sam’s shirt, and Sam was tugging at Dean’s before he pulled it over Dean’s head.
They were kissing each other’s mouths, necks, chests, and all the way down to their navels. Dean started breathing faster, and went for Sam’s belt. Sam groaned, and God, it was so hot. Dean began to unbuckle Sam’s jeans as Sam undid Dean’s. They both kicked their pants, shoes, and socks off and onto the floor, their boxers the only thing remaining.
Sam went to reach his hand into Dean’s boxers but Dean grabbed it and kissed Sam’s palm instead. Sam was smiling, happy but clearly confused, and Dean cleared his throat.
“Sam, I..,” Dean began, then stopped, took a breath, and tried again. “Sam.” He nuzzled into Sam’s neck and then sucked enticingly on the edge of his earlobe. Dean whispered into Sam’s ear, “I want you.” He reached his right hand behind Sam to circle his little brother’s hole. Realization filled Sam’s face as his eyes widened and his cheeks turned scarlet. Dean kept his hand there, waiting for Sam to give him the okay. A minute later, Dean realized Sam was unsure.
Dean was crushed, but hid it instantly. He smiled, withdrew his hand, and sat back on his haunches. “It’s cool, Sam. No big.” Dean got off of Sam and sat on the edge of the bed, bending over to reach for his jeans. “You just wanna watch some T.V.?”
Strong and shaky hands wrapped around Dean’s waist. Dean moaned, tilting his head back into the air. Sam suckled at Dean’s neck.
Dean gulped as he felt Sam’s mouth on his throat. Dean asked, softly, “Sam, you… you wanna? With me? It’s okay… if you don’t…” Dean needed to be sure.
Sam’s laugh came out strangled. He whispered, “I’ve been waiting so long… Dean.” The last word came out sounding like a plea.
Dean couldn’t take it when Sam begged. The thought alone almost sent him over right there. He turned around to face his younger brother, and laid Sam down underneath him. Dean held up one finger, jumped off the bed, grabbed lubricant and condoms from his duffel, and then straddled Sam.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “You’re well prepared.”
Dean smirked. “I was kinda planning this.” Sam opened his mouth in mock surprise. Dean explained, “Well, I had been wanting to, and I didn’t think you’d want our first time to be in a crappy motel room, and neither did I, so yeah.” He shrugged, and looked at Sam for some sort of response.
Sam put his elbows behind him to sit halfway up. “Why, Dean Winchester, you sly dog.” They both laughed, then Sam kissed Dean. The kiss had no trace of humor. It was all passion and longing, and Dean felt his cock twitch at the thought of what they were about to do.
Dean pulled off both of their boxers as Sam laid back down. His legs were hanging off the bed, so Dean pushed him up towards the middle.
Sam began to roll over so his stomach was face down, but Dean stopped him. “I wanna see you,” Dean murmured.
Dean saw Sam’s dick twitch, and Sam nodded quickly. “All right,” Sam breathed.
Dean opened the bottle of lube and smeared some on his fingers. Then he put his arm underneath Sam once more, this time pushing one of his fingers up into Sam’s tight hole. Sam gasped, and bit his lower lip hard. Dean saw that he drew blood.
Dean’s brow furrowed. “You’ve never..?”
Sam shook his head. “No. You?”
Dean shook his head. “Me neither.” He leaned down to kiss Sam, and the blood on Sam’s lip tasted like rust. “It’s okay, I got you.”
Sam nodded, and wrapped his hand around Dean’s dick, slowly jerking him off. Dean gasped, and after moving around a single finger, he inserted a second, causing Sam to grab onto his shoulders. Sam completely forgot to stroke Dean’s dick when Dean slid in a third finger, but that was okay since Dean was already hard enough to fuck Sam ten times. In a row.
Which, if at all humanly possible, he intended to do. And if it wasn’t humanly possible, he was damn well going to try anyway.
Dean lifted up Sam’s legs and aligned his cock with Sam’s ass. Sam wrapped his legs over Dean’s shoulders, then bit the wrapper off of a condom and slid it on Dean.
Dean’s green eyes met Sam’s and held them. Sam nodded.
The first time Dean pushed into Sam had to be the best moment of Dean’s life. Ever. Sam was tight and wet, and God, the look on Sam’s face was enough to make Dean completely lose it, but he knew he had to go slow. He had to let Sam get accustomed to the feel of Dean inside him. It would be uncomfortable, at least at first. Dean didn’t want to scare his brother off.
So, once Dean was all the way in, he didn’t move. He waited for Sam to unclench around him. After a minute, when Sam still hadn’t loosened up and Dean was pretty sure he was holding his breath, Dean bent down and kissed Sam’s navel, and then his lips.
“Breathe,” Dean said, and Sam let out a breath. Dean felt Sam getting less tense around him, so he pulled out a bit, testing, and then pushed back in. Sam’s fingers clawed at Dean’s shoulder, leaving thin lines that almost looked like scars in their wake. Dean asked, “Does it hurt?”
Sam bit his lip, clenched his eyes closed, and nodded. Dean leaned over to whisper nonsense soothing words into Sam’s ear. After another minute, Dean pulled out and pushed in one more time. Sam gasped and Dean felt his brother’s nails leaving traces on his biceps.
“Sammy,” Dean choked out, “We can stop. Really.”
“No.” Sam opened his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ve wanted this since I was fifteen, Dean. I can’t wait any longer.” Dean looked down at Sam. Sam mouthed, “Please.”
And that was all Dean needed to begin a slow, steady rhythm of pumping into his brother.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The ritual to get a soul back from hell was not a pleasant one.
Sam was kneeling, shaking uncontrollably, his eyes shut tight. He was in the middle of a circle created after the ritual was complete. It was a circle of destruction, one that caused everything in it to die instantly. Except for the two people involved in it, of course. That was why Sam picked this ritual. It was the only one he could find that he’d be able to live through.
Dean was in front of him, in the center in the circle. Sam’s knees were touching Dean’s waist, Sam’s hands clasping desperately onto the edge of his brother’s wrecked shirt. He could feel that Dean still wasn’t moving. Sam chanced a glance, saw his brother’s body surrounded by dead grass and fireflies, and quickly closed his eyes again.
He screamed and begged and pleaded and prayed. But Dean wouldn’t move. Sam laid over him, crying, and held onto Dean’s body, trying to shake it into life.
“Breathe,” Sam gasped out in-between sobs. “Please, I’ll… I’ll do anything--anything--just breathe.”
After what seemed like another lifetime of waiting, Sam looked down at the tools he had used for the ritual, his eyes focusing on a knife. There was blood on it, both his and Dean’s, caked so hard it appeared to be rust. Sam reached out and took it. If he couldn’t have Dean back, even after all of this, then he would just have to go and meet him.
Sam held the knife pointed at his chest. There was no point in living anyway, not without Dean.
He took a few steadying breaths, then got a firm grip on the knife. He gave a hollow shout, about to plunge the knife into him to end it all, when he felt Dean move against his knee. Sam looked down, saw that Dean was still unmoving, and thought he must just be hallucinating out of hope and desperation. He shook his head, and that was when he saw Dean’s fingers curl. Sam looked down, eyes wide open now, completely focused on Dean, and saw his big brother’s eyelids flutter open for the first time in eight months.
Dean tried to open his mouth, but he couldn’t. His body had become atrophied, regardless of how many shady medical practices Sam had used to keep it healthy. But Sam was prepared for that. He grabbed a bottle of water, carefully opened Dean’s mouth using a forefinger to pry his lips apart, and let a few drops of water fall onto his brother’s dry lips.
Dean was trying to tell Sam something, using only his eyes and what little gestures he could make. Sam saw his eyes gesture down to the knife and then up to Sam’s face. That was when Sam remembered what the ritual had cost him, shook his head, and smiled, uncaring.
Sam put a hand up to the place where his left eye used to be, his fingers ghosting over the wound on his cheek that was going to leave an angry scar. Then he used that same hand to trace his left eyeball, which he had hastily implanted into his brother’s chest. Dean’s eyes widened, confused and horrified.
Sam stared sobbing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He hugged Dean, kissing him greedily. Sam pulled away and looked into his brother’s eyes. “But Dean… What was I supposed to do, huh? I mean- you just--and I--and--and we… We… What was I supposed to do?!”
Dean’s eyes softened, and Sam hoped his brother was trying to say it was okay.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
fin.
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