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Only Ever You

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Stanford was great, Sam did well in school, he participated in clubs and played soccer, he made some friends, and he met the kind of girl he’d been looking for his whole life. He was finally out of the family business, and he was on his way to making something of himself. Yeah, Stanford was great... except that it wasn’t. Without Dean, nothing felt like home.

Sam had grown up with Dean as his only constant- he was his brother, his dad (because God knows Dad sure as hell wasn’t), his friend, and more. Dean was Sam’s everything since he was born; how was he supposed to last this long without any contact? He’d latest two years without seeing him or hearing from him, and it was eating Sam alive. He needed to see Dean’s face, needed to hear his voice, feel his touch, kiss his lips, hold him tight and never let him leave.

Because making the decision to stay gone was hard, but Sam knew the only way he’d get out was by leaving for good. He’d asked Dean to come with him; he could get a job as a mechanic near the school, they could live off campus together, change their names, and they could be open and happy- nobody would know they were brothers. It was perfect.

“You know I can’t do that. Dad needs me.”

“I need you. I can’t go alone.”

“Yes you can.”

“Well, I don’t want to.”

Dean wanted Sam to get out, he understood that. Sam didn’t understand why Dean didn’t want to get out with him. Sam was tired of pretending to be okay. He was tired of pretending to be normal. He missed his brother, and he at least needed to hear his voice.

Looking at the highlighted name on his cell phone screen, he silently prayed Dean hasn’t changed his number. He took a deep breath before hitting the call button. He closed his eyes and put the receiver up to his ear. He listened to it ring once, then twice. Please pick up. Please pick up. “Sammy?”

He choked out a relieved sob and laugh all at once. Of course he would pick up. “Dean-“ his voice broke off. Now that he could actually hear him, he realized he didn’t plan on what he wanted to say. Apparently neither did Dean, and they sat in silence. He could hear Dean breathing on the other end and he hoped Dean wouldn’t hang up on him. Sam sighed, thankful just to be able to know he’s okay and that he would answer his phone. When a few minutes had passed, he managed to speak again, to make sure his brother was still listening. “Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy, I’m here,” Dean replied quietly. Sam let out another deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything,” Sam blurted. It wasn’t even a lie.

Dean sighed. “You don’t mean that, Sam. You’re out, remember? It’s what you wanted... what you need.”

“I need you, Dean. I need to see you. I want to touch you; I want you to touch me. I need to know you’re still here.”

Dean remained silent for a while after that, and Sam felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. I need you to be here. Dean’s breathing seemed louder and there was some noise coming from his end. “Do you mean that?”

“Yeah, Dean. I always mean it. I need you more than anything.” As soon as he got the words out, he heard a rapid knock on the door. He sniffed and took a deep breath to even his voice. “They’ll come back later if it’s important.”

Dean hesitated. “It’s important, Sam.”

Sam’s heart skipped and his pulse increased. He could almost feel his chest about to burst. “Dean-“ He stood up too quickly and took long strides to the door and threw it open. Dean had his head ducked and looked up at him through his eyelashes, his phone still held to his ear. Sam was speechless, his throat suddenly dry. Dean was wearing Dad’s leather jacket, a black t shirt and his oldest pair of ripped-up jeans. An outfit that’s so familiar- so much like home- Sam wanted to cry again. Around his brother’s neck was the amulet he gave him so long ago. His chest clenched and the tears slid down his cheeks. “Dean,” he whispered.

Dean slammed his phone shut and lunged for him, grabbing his face and pushing them further in the room, kicking the door shut. He rested their foreheads together and breathed heavily. “Sammy-“ Sam immediately sealed their lips together and grabbed onto Dean’s jacket, pulling him tighter.

He kissed him so urgently and desperately, it would’ve been painful if it wasn’t so perfect. “I can’t- believe- you’re- really- here,” he breathed between kisses.

Dean wrapped his hands in Sam’s hair tighter and kissed him hard. “Always- here- Sammy. Always.” Sam’s sob was muffled by Dean’s mouth, opening up and deepening the kiss. Sam pushed Dean’s jacket off of his shoulders and clutched at the sides of his shirt. “God- Sam- you make- everything- so- damn- difficult.” Dean pushed Sam off just enough to separate them, his lips red and swollen, eyes bloodshot and chest heaving.

“Please, Dean,” Sam whispered. Let me have this. Dean rubbed a hand down over his mouth, his other hand on his hip- a movement he did when he was emotionally compromised. He looked around the room, observing Sam’s furniture and pictures. The only two frames he had were one of he and Dean as teenagers, and one of he and Jess. Dean picked up the one of Jess tentatively and looked up at him with vulnerable eyes, causing Sam’s stomach to churn. “That’s Jess. My,” he hesitated and swallowed the guilty lump in his throat. “My girlfriend.”

Dean’s brow knit tightly and he looked back down at the picture, fingers tightening on the frame, and he nodded slowly. “She’s beautiful.”

“Dean-“

“Are you happy?” Dean asked suddenly, still looking at the picture. Sam wanted to tell him everything- he didn’t want anyone or anything but Dean, how he would throw away everything if Dean asked him to- but he couldn’t speak. Dean’s face raised and their eyes met. He had tears in his eyes and his lips were pressed into a tight line. “Answer me.”

No,” he snapped. “No, Dean. I’m not.”

“Why not?” Dean put down the picture slowly.

“Because she’s not you,” he replied honestly.

Dean surged forward again, bringing their mouths together roughly. He pushed Sam back until they fell onto his couch. Dean fell to his knees between Sam’s legs, only breaking the kiss long enough to lift Sam’s shirt off. He moved his kisses to Sam’s neck and Sam sighed, it was all too much and not enough. He reached over Dean’s back and pulled up on his shirt. Dean lifted long enough to take it off for him. “She can’t make you feel like this, can she?” He asked, sucking bruises into Sam’s neck and collarbone. Sam shook his head quickly. Dean’s fingers worked on the button of Sam’s jeans. “She can’t make you feel like I can.” He tugged down Sam’s jeans, taking his boxer briefs with them. “Gonna make you feel so good, Sammy. Never gonna be able to feel as good unless it’s me.”

“Only you, Dean,” Sam breathed in agreement. Dean pulled Sam’s hips closer to the edge of the seat and put Sam’s legs over his shoulders. He pressed wet kisses down Sam’s leaking shaft and down over his balls, continuing south. Sam panted, silently begging for Dean. Dean ducked his head down further and brought his hands under Sam’s thighs to spread his cheeks. He pressed a kiss to Sam’s hole before licking a long stripe over it. Sam groaned loudly. “Dean-“

“Does she do this for you, Sammy?” Dean asked into his skin, licking a wetter spot across his hole. “She know you like this?” Sam whimpered and pushed his hips down onto Dean’s face. Dean licked and pushed at the muscle with his tongue. “Bet she doesn’t know how dirty you really are,” he murmured. “How much you love cock- my cock- how you beg for it.” He pushed his tongue into Sam’s hole and rubbed against the rim, fingers digging into the meat of Sam’s outer thighs. Sam arched his back and moaned, gripping onto the couch tightly.

Sam opened his eyes enough to look down at Dean and meet his eyes. Dean was watching him the whole time and Sam groaned at the thought. Dean pulled his tongue out to lick it over a few times to make it wetter before fucking his tongue into Sam eagerly. “Fuck, Dean- oh God- fuck!”

“Not yet, little brother,” Dean replied. He licked deeper into Sam, moving his hand to Sam’s throbbing cock. Sam gave a sharp hiss that turned into a groan. “Gotta come for me first.” Dean began pumping Sam’s cock in time with the thrusts of his tongue. Sam’s eyes rolled back and he rocked his hips back and forth, desperate for more. Dean used his thumb to spread the precome over and down his shaft. Sam was moaning and chanting Dean’s name. Dean thrust his tongue in deep and started twisting his wrist, earning a loud keen from Sam. “Come for me, baby.” Sam arched his back off the couch and came hard all over his chest and abs. Dean kissed the insides of his thighs while he worked Sam through his orgasm. Dean got to his knees on the couch and Sam grabbed him, pulling him down into a kiss. He could taste himself on Dean’s tongue- right where he belongs- and he ran his hands down Dean’s chest and down to his jeans to work them open.

“I missed you so much, Dean,” he whispered into Dean’s mouth. Dean kissed him again and cupped his jaw. The kiss was so tender and familiar, Sam wanted to scream and cry out of happiness- and a few other emotions flooding his heart that he couldn’t exactly place.

“I missed you too, Sammy,” he whispered back as Sam shucked down his pants. Dean’s hand ran down his jaw and back into his hair softly. “Missed you so much.” They kissed again and Dean stood up to let his pants pool at his ankles before Sam pulled down his boxers and let them fall too. He stepped out of the pile and got back on his knees on the couch next to Sam, kissing him deeper and more thoroughly than before. Sam felt up Dean’s thigh and wrapped a hand around his dick, giving it a few strokes. “Sammy,” he breathed, moving his hand down Sam’s chest and stomach, letting the come gather on his fingers. He brought them down to Sam’s already wet hole, easily slipping in two fingers and working them deep inside of him.

Dean,” Sam moaned, his cock giving another interested twitch. Dean gave him a searing kiss and swallowed his moans. He moved his fingers in slow, harsh pushes. Sam rocked his hips down to meet the fingers and fucked himself onto Dean’s hand enthusiastically. Dean added another finger quickly and crooked them deep inside of him, hitting Sam’s prostate immediately. “Dean!

“Yeah, Sammy, scream my name,” Dean growled into his ear, breathing hot on his neck. He worked his fingers in fast and consistently, hitting and rubbing over that sweet bundle of nerves with every thrust. Sam was completely hard again, mewling and chanting Dean’s name like a prayer. “Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re making noises for me, saying my name like it’s the only word you know.” Sam kissed him again, clinging desperately to the side of Dean’s neck. “Can she make you say her name like this? Can she make you come like you haven’t in years?”

Sam shook his head. “Only you, Dean. Only ever you. Please, Dean,” Sam breathed quickly between shallow moans. Dean nodded and pulled his fingers free, earning a small objecting noise from Sam’s throat. He stroked himself a few times with the wetness on his hand and pulled Sam’s legs onto the couch, turning him to lay on his back. Sam wrapped his legs around Dean’s waist- where they’ve always belonged- and Dean leaned over him to kiss his lips. Sam felt the head of Dean’s dick nudge against his hole. The feelings was so familiar, it was almost like he never left. Except he was reminded that he did when he felt the small burn of Dean pushing inside. Dean fully sheathed himself in one long movement, and Sam tossed his head back. “Dean.”

“Sammy,” Dean breathed against his skin, resting their foreheads together. He pulled Sam’s hips closer to his, lifting his thighs and settling himself impossibly deep inside of Sam. He hadn’t had this in so long, it was almost uncomfortable, but it was perfect. It was like coming home.

Sam nodded and gripped Dean’s neck and shoulder, their signal that he was ready. Dean pulled his hips back slowly, the friction making Sam’s nerves come alive. Dean slammed back in quickly, knocking more breath out of Sam’s lungs. Sam held on tighter and wrapping his legs higher, locking his feet behind Dean’s back. Dean kissed him deeply as he inched back and thrust back in even harder, earning moans from both of them. Sam’s fingers tightened on the back of Dean’s neck, nails scratching the sweaty end of his hairline, as he pulled his head down more into the kiss.

They set up a familiar pace, one with more urgency, more desperation, but still trying so hard to savor every feeling as much as they could. Dean would piston his hips in quickly and almost brutally a few times before slowing down and rolling his hips and getting so deep in Sam, it’s a wonder they didn’t melt together. Sam’s breaths were controlled by Dean’s thrusts: quick and rough ones had Sam pushing out little “ah ah ah”s into Dean’s mouth and cheeks; long, deep rolls had Sam groaning loudly and cursing. “Fuck Dean-! Mm-mm-mm-mm-muh-Dean!

“Feel so good- shit- so good, Sam,” Dean panted with the slow movements of his hips. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, allowing Dean to wrap his arms under Sam’s arms and along his back, holding onto the back of his shoulders. The new angle made it so Dean could pull Sam down into his upwards thrusts, getting even deeper and Sam thought he was going to crawl out of his skin. Sam clung to him tightly, breathing his name over and over, and Dean’s head stayed in the hollow of his neck, pressing kisses and sucking his sweat-slicked skin.

“God, De- Dean- fuckfuckfuck-!” Sam breathed heavily into the side of Dean’s head. He tightened his legs around Dean’s waist, urging him to move faster. “De-De-De-Dean- fucking-!”

“S-s-so close, Sammy,” Dean groaned. Sam nodded quickly, holding on tighter, their sweaty bodies sliding against each other helplessly. “Want you to- ne-ne-need you to- fuck- need you to come for me, Sammy.”

Dean quickened his pace, the thrusts harder than before and Sam’s really sure he’ll barely be able to walk tomorrow. The intense heat in his gut increased, he could feel it building with every thrust. With five quick, rough snap of his hips straight over Sam’s sweet spot, Sam was crying out. “Dean! Yeahyeahyeahyeah- fuck-!” he managed to scream through his second orgasm.

Dean’s hips stuttered and slammed into his a few more times before Dean was coming. “Sammy,” he groaned, cock buried as far in as it could be and spilling inside of him. The death grip on the back of Sam’s shoulders released so the hands were just gently holding him. Sam relaxed his arms around Dean’s neck enough so he could move his head up and kiss Sam deeply and slowly. Their chests heaved against one another, bodies beginning to cool down and feeling the cold air hitting their sweaty skin. Dean kept their lips together as he slowly pulled out of Sam, swallowing his tiny mewl at the loss.

They lay in the same position, just kissing slowly in silence before Sam wanted to say something. “Thank you,” he whispered, putting their foreheads together with their eyes still closed.

Dean chuckled softly. “I know I’m good, Sammy, but there’s no need to thank me,” he whispered in return, giving his lips another peck.

Sam’s lips tugged into a small smile. “No, just- thank you for answering.” He hesitated before adding, “Thank you for being here.”

Dean brought one hand to the side of Sam’s head, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face and kissing him tenderly. “I’m always here when I can be. Every chance I get, I’m here.” Sam opened his eyes and they were met with Dean’s soft ones, searching his. “I want you to get out, Sam. That doesn’t mean I can go my whole life never seeing you again.”

“Then why did you stay away for so long?”

“You’ll never have a normal life if I don’t,” he replied quietly. “I can’t risk bringing you back into this shit storm. You... You have a future outside of this, Sam. I want you to get out. I want you to actually have a life. Become a big time lawyer, or whatever. You with a,” he swallowed thickly and Sam could feel his eyes watering again. “You with a wife and kids and- and grandkids, living until you're fat and bald and chugging Viagra.” Sam chuckled humorlessly, rolling his eyes back to stop the tears, but they slipped out anyways. His fingers clung to the back of Dean’s neck. Dean licked his lips, wiping the tear from Sam’s cheek, and stroking Sam’s hair back again, getting his attention. “That is my perfect ending, Sam. And it's the only on that I'm going to get. I want it to be yours, too.”

The pain in his chest came back, along with the lump in his throat that he tried to swallow around. Dean’s eyes searched his pleading for him to understand, Sam could read that look even if he were blind. He sniffed and fought back a new rise of tears. “But I-“ his voice broke and Dean put their foreheads together, wiping another tear from Sam’s cheekbone. “-I don’t want a life- I don’t want a life without you, Dean.”

Dean kissed him chastely, Sam could taste his own tears on his lips. “It’s the only way to keep you safe, Sam,” he whispered with both of their eyes still closed. “Please-“ Dean’s voice choked off and Sam was sure he’d see Dean crying if he opened his eyes. He kept them closed. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is. Please, Sammy.”

Sam sniffed again and nodded slightly, enough for Dean to feel it. Dean kissed under his left eye where his mole is. He smiled sadly. “Could you just stay tonight?” When Dean didn’t respond, he added even more quietly, “Just tonight. Please, Dean.”

“Yeah, Sammy,” he whispered. Sam nodded again and they fell asleep on the couch, tangled in one another.

The next morning when he woke up, he was still naked on the couch, but he was alone and covered with a blanket that hadn’t been there when he fell asleep. His clothes were still next to him on the ground, but Dean’s were gone. He stood up quickly and looked around, calling out his brother’s name in his empty apartment. He checked every room even though he already knew it was no use. His heart pounded in his chest and he could feel his throat closing up. “Dean?” he called one last time, almost a whisper. He shook his head, eyes squeezing shut. He went to the front door to see if Dean had left anything- anything. His blurry eyes landed on his picture frames. On the picture of him and Jess was a little piece of paper wedged into the side. Sam sniffed back the tears and retrieved the paper. Written on it was one simple, earth-crushing sentence that he’d heard before when Dean dropped him off at Stanford, and Sam knew it was over. “I’ll be seeing you.”