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It Never Happened

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Time doesn't flow right in Sam's head anymore.

He sits down on the wooden steps outside Bobby's house in the early morning, content to just watch Dean working on the impala and cooing to his baby. Sam is there under the pretense that his brother might need help with the rebuilding, although those opportunities are few and far between. Sam blinks, and the sun is already setting on the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the scrap yard. Sometimes Dean has to say Sam's name a few extra times to get him to snap out of it, sometimes he just throws a greased up cloth instead. Dean's got this worried look around his mouth and it grows stronger every day, and Sam's trying to hold it together for his brother's sake but he's not doing a very good job of it.

He doesn't know what's happening, but he keeps getting lost inside his head.

One lazy summer afternoon, whilst Dean's spread out underneath the car and tinkering with something Sam doesn't quite understand, Sam enjoys a cold beer from the ice box that's slowly becoming a permanent fixture by the steps. He's pressing the chilled glass to his forehead, the underside of his jaw. Sweat is pooling in the hollow of his neck and he's half considering taking his shirt off just so he can stop perspiring for five seconds. Dean says something to him, and Sam doesn't hear it. He thinks maybe Dean calls his name and Sam sinks deeper into the recess of his mind.

He's somewhere else, and Dean has him shoved up against a tree, pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck. Sam lets out a groan, hand fisting in Dean's shirt. He opens his eyes wide enough to see that they're at the edge of some tree-lined field, and Sam thinks he's been here before. He'd been younger, but they'd spent several weeks training in this field, he's sure.

Dean slips a hand up under Sam's shirt, fingers skimming his stomach and coming to rest on his hip bone. He can feel Dean's amulet pressed between them and Sam's chest constricts at the thought. It's been so long since he's seen and felt it, and everything feels weirdly surreal. He's light-headed, and he can't tell whether that's because Dean's rubbing up against him, sweet friction sending sparks of pleasure straight to his cock, or whether it has something to do with the broken wall inside his head. Dean's popping the button on Sam's jeans open, licking a line up Sam's throat. Dean is murmuring something about how it's just them, just them, and he's got a hand inside of Sam's boxers now. Dean's hand is wrapping around Sam's hard cock, and Sam is thinking about how he wants nothing more than for Dean to get on his knees and suck him. Dean starts jerking him off, slowly, whilst he bites at Sam's mouth. Dean is asking him something, he thinks maybe his brother wants him to jerk him off as well, but Sam's brain is short circuiting. Sam's been fucked up for the longest time, realizing when he was still fairly young that he wanted his brother in wrong-dirty-sick ways. As far as Sam can remember, he'd never hinted that this was something that he craved from Dean. And yet, somehow, they'd found their way here.

“Sammy.” Someone's clicking their fingers in front of his face.

Sam jumps, knows he looks guilty as all hell, even though he's back at Bobby's scrapyard and he's still sitting on the front porch steps. “What?”

“You were out of it, man.” Dean gives him a look, corners of his mouth turned down, but he doesn't continue the conversation any further. Dean grabs a beer out of the cooler, places himself next to Sam on the steps. They groan in protest at the extra weight.

“Dean, did we ever–“ and Sam cuts himself off, not knowing what the fuck he was thinking. He'd been that close to asking his brother if they'd ever messed around before. He takes a deep breath and tries to centre himself. “Actually, never mind.”

“Did we ever what?” Dean's looking at him all curious, hint of playfulness in his eyes. Sam thinks that's a good sign but he's not holding his breath for Dean to miraculously be better than he has been.

“Nothin'. Just forget it.”

Dean shrugs and spreads his knees a little further apart until his is resting against Sam's. He waits for his brother to realize and move it back, but instead he just gives Sam this crooked smile.

And Sam's not really sure what to make of that.

~end