When Sam’s phone buzzes at 1:30 a.m. he grabs it off the bedside table. He’s only been in bed for thirty minutes, going over tomorrow’s trial in his head. Jessica’s already sound asleep beside him; she doesn’t stir as he turns the phone over, checks the caller ID.
Sam’s heart races and his palms are sweating as he pulls his jeans on, grabs his shoes and tiptoes out of the bedroom. Five minutes later he’s in the car and on the highway, driving to the coordinates Dean texted.
He thinks about the last time he saw Dean, how pale and broken he looked. He’d been hunting on his own again, without backup. Sam could’ve killed him. As it was, they yelled and screamed at each other for a few minutes, then fucked each other’s brains out. Jessica was in Minnesota with her folks that time, so Sam spent the night. He could’ve stayed the entire weekend, but when he woke up, Dean was gone. Sam’s already promised himself he won’t make the same mistake twice. If Dean calls again, he won’t question him if he looks like death warmed over. Time is too precious for them.
It’s been like that between them for years, since about a week after the hunt in Jericho, the one where the Woman in White told Sam he would be unfaithful. Turned out she was right. After Dean dropped him off that night at his apartment in Palo Alto, Sam had been able to hold out for only a week before calling Dean, demanding to see him again. Pleading, really, since Dean sounded so reluctant. Sam hadn’t intended to beg Dean to stay that time. He’d just wanted to see him again, that’s all. Being together on that hunt had opened up a world of possibility Sam hadn’t considered before. Without their dad’s presence, Sam and Dean worked together almost seamlessly, getting the job done as they always had, but better. It was so much better, being adults who could handle themselves alone, without their father breathing down their necks. They were good together.
All of Sam’s childhood dreams and teenage fantasies about his brother were under control, or so Sam thought. Not so overwhelming anymore since Sam left home for college. Sam and Dean could be a team, despite the baggage of their shared past and all its mixed-up co-dependency.
But the minute Sam saw his brother, a week after Jericho, he knew he’d been fooling himself. He couldn’t get Dean out of his system. Who was he kidding? Dean was like the purest possible drug, and Sam had been mainlining it over that weekend hunt. He was addicted, and it was even worse than it had been when they were kids because they were adults now. They were free to do as they pleased, to indulge that powerful need for each other than neither of them could resist.
“I’ll leave her,” Sam promised. It seemed like the sensible thing to do. Sam wasn’t a cheater. Jessica deserved a man who could be devoted to her. Sam’s heart would always belong to Dean, he knew that now. It had been stupid to think he could go back to Jessica after Jericho, and now Sam needed to fix that. He needed to do the honorable thing.
Dean shook his head. “No, Sammy. She’s good for you. You need to stay with her and have that normal life you’ve always wanted. Become a lawyer, settle down. I’m no good for you and you know it. Life on the road, hunting monsters – that’s no life, Sam. You go home to that girl right now and you live that life, you hear me?”
Sam protested. He begged. But Dean was adamant, left him sobbing and alone in that motel room, listening to the rumble of the Impala as it drove away.
When he woke up alone, Sam dried his tears and drove back to Palo Alto. In the cold light of day he knew Dean was right. His normal life had been too hard-won, and he’d be a fool to dump Jessica and leave everything he’d worked so hard to build with her.
He couldn’t give Dean up, though. He’d never been able to, really.
Sam got into Stanford Law School, Jessica accepted his proposal, and within three years Sam was married and holding down an important clerkship with a local circuit court judge. All the while he and Dean found time for each other, meeting in motels around the bay area whenever Dean was in town. When their dad died they met up in Sioux Falls for the funeral, and Sam was relieved that Dean had reconnected with Bobby. Dean couldn’t be alone, not after their dad died. It worried Sam to think about how much Dean was suffering, and they spent days together during that time, grieving and hanging out, just being brothers.
“Dad said I had to watch out for you,” Dean told Sam. “He said I had to be sure you stayed right where you were. He made me promise.”
Sam shook his head. He never got to say goodbye. Now he had to live with the memory of his dad telling him to leave and never come back, and there wasn’t a day went by that didn’t hurt. It always would.
Over the past two years Dean’s been sending texts, always with coordinates. It’s his way of asking to see Sam, and lately Sam’s been feeling more anxious about each meeting. Dean’s become reckless. He drinks too much, smokes too much, hunts on his own too often. Sam’s been to the hospital too many times, sitting next to Dean’s bed while the machines beep and whir, waiting for Dean to wake up and be okay.
Sam pulls into the parking lot of the Mill Valley Motel a little after 2:00 a.m. He sees the car right away, all the way down at the end, furthest from the office. He parks beside her, slides his hand over her hood as he heads to the door.
It opens and Dean’s standing there, looking beautiful and fragile in the dim light and his faded old henley and jeans, barefoot. He’s just had a shower, and Sam can smell the soap and the copper tang of old blood as he sweeps Dean into his arms, shutting the door behind them with his foot. He kisses Dean hungrily, desperately, holding his head with one hand, sliding his other hand down Dean’s back to his ass. Dean lets Sam pick him up, wraps his legs around Sam’s waist as Sam carries him to the bed, kissing the whole way.
Sam tries not to think about how thin Dean feels. His shoulder blades protrude and his hip bones dig into Sam’s. His clothes are loose on him, and when Sam undresses him his belly seems concave, not as soft as usual. Sam kisses down Dean’s neck to his collarbone, suckling behind his ear as Dean writhes beneath him. Sam touches his cheek, feels dampness there.
“You okay?” He lifts his head, gazes down into Dean’s huge green eyes, blown almost black with need.
“Yeah, yeah, ‘m fine.” Dean sounds a little choked. “Fuck me, Sammy. Come on!”
Sam doesn’t push; he knows Dean won’t talk about it, will start yelling and throwing punches if Sam insists. Sex with Sam is something Dean does to work out those most intimate feelings, the ones he can’t express out loud. Sam would feel selfish, taking this from Dean, except that he knows how much Dean needs it. He knows he’s giving Dean something he can’t get any other way when they do this, and Sam’s the last person to withhold that from his brother. He loves Dean too much.
Sam kisses down Dean’s chest, suckling first one nipple, then the other as Dean cards his fingers through Sam’s hair, tugging on it when Sam nips him. He kisses a line down Dean’s sternum to his belly, dipping his tongue into Dean’s belly button as Dean arches up in anticipation.
Dean’s dick is hard and leaking, the skin clean and warm, the head velvety soft. Sam suckles at it while Dean gasps and moans. Sam wraps his hand around the base, nestles his fist in the wiry hair, and gazes up at Dean as he swallows his dick. He kneels between Dean’s legs and gives him a thorough blow job, squeezing Dean’s dick when he feels his balls start to tighten up with an impending orgasm.
Fuck,” Dean gasps when his dick slides out of Sam’s mouth. Sam smiles against Dean’s skin as he kisses his inner thigh. Sam suckles at the skin over Dean’s femoral artery, leaving a mark on the pulse point there as he did on Dean’s neck, over his carotid artery. Sam marks the major lifelines in Dean’s body because he owns them. Dean belongs to Sam, and they both know it.
Sam’s mouth travels over the skin below Dean’s balls, making him shiver. As Sam strokes the backs of Dean’s thighs to his knees, Sam pushes them back so that Dean’s almost bent in half. Dean grabs behind his knees to hold himself open, to give Sam more room to work. He seems particularly needy tonight, desperate for it, his sheer wantonness a turn-on that Sam doesn’t take lightly. Dean rarely surrenders himself so completely, but when he does it’s a gift, an offering Sam accepts with reverence. Dean shivers as Sam’s tongue laves over his hole, and Sam can almost feel him blush. Sam spreads Dean’s ass and probes his hole with his tongue and Dean cries out. He bucks up, arches his back and pushes down toward Sam’s face, fucking himself on Sam tongue as Sam holds him open.
Sam suckles him another moment, then adds a finger, loosening Dean up so that he can take two fingers along with Sam’s tongue. By the time Sam reaches for the lube and kneels up between Dean’s legs, Dean’s loose and open and ready.
“You’re gorgeous like this,” Sam murmurs, and the praise makes Dean blush, makes him grab his dick and squeeze the base. Dean tips his head back and arches his back, unconsciously bucking up toward Sam, squeezing his eyes shut but leaving his mouth open, as soft and loose as his hole.
“That’s it,” Sam murmurs. “Wait until I’m inside you.”
The first touch of Sam’s dick against Dean’s hole makes them both gasp. Dean lets out a long, low moan as Sam rubs his dick against Dean’s entrance, then bears down, as if he’s unable to control his instinct to fill himself with Sam’s dick. Sam watches as Dean’s hole swallows the head. Dean only stops for a moment to adjust before pushing down again, and Sam slides all the way in.
Dean comes all over himself with a long, low moan.
“Fuck,” Sam gasps, his loud panting the only sound besides Dean’s own heavy breathing. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Dean croaks. “I’m fine.”
Sam nods, knowing Dean won’t admit to pain even if he feels it, not wanting to think too deeply about how something painful makes Dean come so hard, untouched. He leans down and kisses Dean softly, but Dean’s too blissed out to do much more than lie there, mouth slack, eyes at half mast. His hands clutch the bedspread, and he accepts Sam’s kisses for another moment or two as he comes down from his orgiastic high. Sam’s grateful. Dean doesn’t usually allow cuddling or tenderness, but Sam knows he needs it.
Sam’s dick throbs, fully sheathed in Dean’s warm, wet heat and he has to hold still to keep the friction from making him come too soon.
“Come on, Sammy,” Dean growls against Sam’s lips. “Come on, little brother. Wanna see you come.”
Sam lifts his head, gazing down at Dean’s beautiful face, and gives a short nod. He grabs Dean’s left leg behind the knee and takes Dean’s right wrist in his other hand so that he’s holding Dean down as he starts thrusting, slowly at first. Sam never takes his eyes off Dean’s face as he increases his rhythm, and Dean pushes back, eyes locked with Sam’s as he matches his thrusts.
It shouldn’t be possible, but Dean’s hard again. He seems determined to give Sam the best sex of his life. His big green eyes are soft with love and sharp with something that looks almost like desperation. He looks like he’s trying to memorize Sam’s face, as if he’s afraid this might be their last time together. Sam pounds into him and tears leak from the corners of Dean’s eyes. Sam’s orgasm builds as he watches Dean’s expressive face give up all the emotions he holds bottled deep inside, as Dean tips his chin up and arches his back.
“Fuck!” Sam’s vision goes white as his orgasm crashes through him. It seems to go on and on. He can feel Dean’s channel clench, knows Dean’s come again, in sync with Sam as always. Sam closes his eyes as he starts to come down, pumping shallowly into Dean’s body. He lets out a long, throaty sound that starts as a moan and ends in a choked laugh as his brain comes back online and his senses tingle with pleasure.
“Wow.” Sam opens his eyes, realizes he’s still holding Dean open and it might be uncomfortable, and lets him go. “That was...”
“Yeah,” Dean says as Sam’s dick slips free of his body.
Sex with Dean is always good, always better than Sam remembers. It sustains him for a while after they separate again, but Sam always waits for the next time with the shivery, obsessive anticipation of an addict. Instead of being satisfied, Sam always wants more.
Dean, on the other hand, seems drained. He’s pale and thin and seems weaker even than he did when Sam first arrived. Sam gets up to fetch a warm washcloth, gently washes Dean’s belly, and Dean watches him with sleepy, glittering eyes. He allows Sam to pull the blankets and sheets up around them, allows Sam to curl around him and spoon him from behind. Sam can’t stay much longer, should really get back before Jessica realizes he’s gone, although she’s used to it. Sam goes out in the middle of the night all the time as part of his job.
“Happy birthday, Sam,” Dean murmurs as Sam buries his face in Dean’s hair, breathes in deep.
“You remembered.” Sam smiles into the back of Dean’s head.
“I should. I was there the day you were born.” Dean’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “Happiest day of my life.”
They doze, warm and safe in each other’s arms, and when Sam wakes up with a start, Dean’s gone.
As he drives back to the condo he shares with Jessica, Sam promises himself he’ll call Bobby tomorrow. He’s worried about Dean. His brother shouldn’t be hunting alone. Sam will offer to go with him, maybe take a week or two off work so he can help him. To hell with Dean’s grumbling and complaining about how Sam’s out of shape and no longer on his game. Sam knows he can still do it, if he has to. For Dean.
Sam’s mind turns to work and to the news Jessica gave him only yesterday. “For your birthday,” she winked at him. She’s pregnant. They’re going to have a baby. Sam’s going to be a father.
He forgot to tell Dean. Dean’s going to be an uncle.
Sam smiles to himself as he turns into his driveway. The lights are still off. Jessica’s still sleeping.
Sam’s 27 years old today, and life is good.