“If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back!”
After the big fight, after John said those fateful words to his youngest son that made him break into a cold sweat every time he even thought of picking up a phone, John descended even further into reckless behavior. He still had Dean, and he was extremely overprotective of him. It made for a more vicious hunter, but it also made him turn into himself more. He would sneak off on his own for hunts he deemed too dangerous for Dean when he knew logically that he could use the backup.
One night, about two years after Sam left for Stanford, John’s recklessness caught up to him and Dean hadn’t been able to save him. When John had initially gone missing, Dean had immediately gone to Palo Alto. He’d snuck onto Stanford's campus to get Sam to try to help him search for John. He was there for a week before he’d decided against it. Sam was doing too well, and Dean hadn’t wanted to pull him away for the man who’d practically shoved him out of the house.
Dean had traveled on, heading to the first of many safe houses that John had told him about. If he and John were ever separated and one of them too hurt to travel back to base, it was likely they’d be at one of those safe houses. Dean had started at the closest one to the location John was hunting last and worked his way outward. When he’d gotten to the third spot, nearly two states away from where Dean had initially tracked John’s hunt down, Dean’s phone rang. He’d looked at the screen and it showed John’s name; he’d nearly dropped the phone trying to answer it. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been good news; John had made it to the emergency room, but his injuries had been too extensive. The nurse practitioner had been breaking all types of rules even calling Dean without verification of his identity, but he’d felt awful that the man had died alone when there was obviously someone to call.
Dean had been beside himself. He had no idea what to do with John gone. He hadn’t even felt that he could bring himself to tell Sam that he’d failed. He couldn’t protect John when that had been the only reason he hadn’t left with him to California. Dean knew Sam had felt betrayed by him not taking his side that night; not speaking up at all. The only thing Dean could offer as an olive branch that night was a ride to the bus station and a tearful goodbye. He’d thought that Sam would kick his ass to the curb if he went to him now. He couldn’t handle that, not from his Sammy.
In a guilt-ridden panic, he’d ditched his phones and drove until his tears could no longer blur the road.
Two Years Later:
Sam Winchester was celebrating, or he was trying to. He’d sailed through his finals, had interviews set with a few reputable law firms after the weekend, and he had a solid relationship that he planned to take to the next level soon. Jessica was an unbelievable match Sam never would have thought he’d find. He got along so well with her it was the only excuse he had for overlooking just how similar she was to Dean. Tall and athletic with thick thighs, light hair, green eyes, freckles, and a cocky, dry sense of humor, not to mention their birthdays were on the same day. Sam was thankful he’d never discussed his family much, or he might not have been able to deny an accusation that Jess was some kind of morally and socially acceptable version of the brother who’d imprinted his heart and soul from birth.
That was the only shadow on such a perfect night. He hadn’t heard from Dean since the horrible fight with their dad. Logically, he knew he could maybe have called, but John had made him feel so unwanted. The sting from harsh words mixed with a stubbornness he could have only gotten from John. If John wanted Sam to follow orders, then for once in his life he would follow that one.
He remembered how devastated he’d been, though, when Bobby Singer called him out of the blue nearly two years ago. John Winchester had died, and Dean had vanished without a trace after collecting John’s effects from the morgue. The only thing that kept Sam at school was Bobby’s reasoning that it made no sense to run off looking for him when at least Dean knew where Sam was. “Listen, Son. If Dean decides to resurface one day, where do you think he’ll go first? Stay alive, stay safe; that way I’ll only have to worry about searching for one of ya.”
Uncle Bobby, as he was called when Sam and Dean were young, was a hunter friend of their dad’s and often took them in when John knew he’d be gone on longer hunts. He knew it was completely illogical to expect Dean to take care of himself and a baby. Those first few years after Mary was killed were some of the most tenuous, yet formative and consistent years of the boys’ lives.
Now, as Sam sat at a crowded bar waiting for drinks to take back to the booth to Jess, Luis, and Brady, he found his optimistic mood quickly diminishing. He sighed as he looked up at the row of televisions playing a variety of sports programs above the bar. On one he recognized an auto race in progress. Dean would have loved watching this, he thought, wistful. If not for hunting, Sam was pretty sure Dean would have eventually found himself on a NASCAR team. His big brother loved cars; maintaining cars and driving them like a stunt driver were the only things Sam thought Dean loved more than him.
He watched as one of the cars began to slow down toward its pit, limping along with a flat tire. There were four crew members, waiting at the ready to change all the tires out. One of the crew had the identical focused swagger of his big brother, Dean. Even though he hadn’t seen him for four years, Sam would know it anywhere.
All of a sudden, the problem tire blew, and a fragment flew through the air and hit the Dean-look-alike crew member in the legs, knocking him down. Sam stopped breathing when he thought he saw Dean land on the ground, clutching his thigh. The man rolled from side-to-side, with a grimaced face. He looked like he was really in pain. Suddenly, he could see the way he bit his lower lip with his teeth, and he knew. It was his big brother!! Oh my God, is he ok? WHERE is he?
Sam was frantic. His first instinct was to rush out of the bar and start tracking the tour to find where Dean was now. Then he remembered he had people that he couldn’t just up and leave, unless he was prepared to leave for good; he couldn’t do that to Jess. Sam didn’t really know what to think. How could Dean have just gone off to do this and never let me know? WHY didn’t he let me know? All he knew for sure was Dean was alive, but hurt. Sam couldn’t NOT go see him. He’d have to talk to Jess. And then, by God, he’d be talking to -more like yelling at- Dean!
“Okay, Sam. The chaos of the night is over, we’re home; it’s just you and me. You wanna tell me what had you so spooked you barely spoke to your friends all night?” Jess asked in her fearless, non-condescending way that was so like Dean when he really wanted Sam to talk.
“I found my brother.”
“Your brother Dean who disappeared a couple of years ago?”
“Yeah, uh, guess he’s got a gig with the NASCAR circuit. He got hurt; I saw it on the TV when I was waiting on our drinks.”
“Whoa, Sam, like how hurt? Was he driving?”
“Naw, nothing like that; he was with the pit crew, I think. Looked like a tire blew and I think he got hit with some of it. I’m not sure how bad. I gotta find where they took him.”
“You really should find out more than that, don’t you think? I know you’ve got to be itching to find out why he went all this time without a word. Why don’t you take a few days with him and catch up? Let’s see if we can find the hospital tomorrow.”
He smiled for the first time since he’d seen the race and the accident. “Thanks, Jess, for understanding. If you don’t mind, I was going to try to find that out before coming to bed.”
“Goodnight, Sam,” she said as she rose from her seat at the kitchen table, went over to him, and kissed him deeply, almost as though it might be their last. “In case I’m not up before you go.” She walked into their bedroom without waiting for him to protest. She’d always seemed to know Sam a bit better than he thought; at least the side of him he let her see.
Sam searched online and found a couple of articles on the day’s race. He was even more shocked to find it had been held at the Sonoma Raceway. He was in California! The closest hospital from the track was Sonoma Valley Hospital. That was the most likely place for Dean to be. It was about an hour and a half away, and he very nearly just grabbed his jacket and slipped out the door. Jess wouldn’t have faulted him for it, but instead, he turned off his laptop, checked the doors and windows, turned off the kitchen light, and went to bed. Logically, he would not have been allowed to visit Dean until at least morning.
Dean awoke as the rising sun caused the light to gently flood his room. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a shadowed shape sitting in the corner. He gasped as mercurial eyes peered steadily at him through floppy, chestnut bangs. “Sammy?” he asked through the grizzled dryness in his throat. “How…? What are you doing here?”
Sam had been staring, through Dean more than at him, since he’d sat in that hard, plastic chair about half an hour ago. Hearing his name, he blinked and said, “Dean.” His voice was also a bit on the rough side. He was overwhelmed with so many emotions that he looked like a deer in headlights. His mind battled over whether to say ‘Cristo’ or to cross the few feet separating them and embrace the one final beacon in his life that he thought he’d lost. First things first, though. “What the hell, Dean? What do you mean what am I doing here? Why am I finding out you’re in California from a TV screen?”
“Sam, I’m sorry, alright. It’s a long story and I just… I don’t know man; my throat is competing with the Sahara for the driest place on Earth. Can we table the crazy for a minute? C’mere, lemme look at you.”
Sam made a pouty face for all of about five seconds before he was a kid again, wanting reassurance from his hero big brother. He cleared the space in two long-legged steps and blanketed Dean with his very adult frame. He tucked his chin right into the junction of Dean’s neck and had settled his hip on the mattress, pressed right up against Dean’s leg.
Dean embraced him as best he could, despite the pain any movement or pressure at all on his torso and legs caused him. He had been bruised right down to the bone and his skin was a bit raw in some spots. He tried to stifle the hoarse grunt he made, but honestly, he wasn’t Superman, and he hadn’t expected the sasquatch that was currently curling up in his space like a ten-year-old. “Damn, Sammy, you’ve been eating your Wheaties. Ease up a little, yeah?”
Sam remembered why they were in a hospital room and pulled back, easing his weight off Dean, and standing up. He mumbled a quick, “Sorry,” and went to pull the chair he’d been sitting in close to the side of Dean’s bed. “I’ll get you some water, alright? The nurse on staff told me your injuries aren’t major, some contusions, bruised ribs, and rubber rash. They wanted to make sure you didn’t have any other shrapnel or a head injury. I guess that is standard safety procedure for something as huge as NASCAR, huh?”
Dean took a couple of sips and sighed in relief. “Yeah, I guess. I kept telling them I was fine. Didn’t wanna bring any attention to…” and just like that, Sam’s puppy eyes made their first appearance to Dean in four years. “Listen, Sammy, I know it was crappy of me to up and pull a Houdini, okay, I get it. But I didn’t do it because of you. You have to know that.”
“All I know is that you disappeared, Dean. I know that I left first, but you always knew where I was. But you’re right. We don’t need to hash this out here and now. The nurse said you could be discharged if you’d have someone with you just in case you had any issues breathing or, you know, faint,” he said with an impish grin. “We gotta focus on getting you back on your feet. Where are you staying?”
Now it was Dean’s turn to smile. “Wait ‘til you see this place, little brother.”
The hotel used by NASCAR was totally a cut above the motels, rental dives, and abandoned houses or barns they used to stay in on the road. Sam was definitely pleased that Dean had found an honest job that still offered him the ability to move around. He was impressed that he was able to do it in a hell of a lot more comfort as well.
Sam looked around the room while Dean took the shower he’d had to damn near wrestle Sam to let him take. Kid was twice the worrywart Dean ever was. Dean allowed him to be right when he could barely raise his arms to drive, but once they reached the room, he made it quite clear that Sam was to back the hell off.
Sam found food and beer in the mini-bar fridge and busied himself making dinner for them. When Dean emerged in just a towel with a sourpuss scowl on his face, Sam had to fight hard not to laugh. He just stood up and walked over to Dean and waited for him to decide what he wanted Sam to help him with. On the way over, however, he allowed his eyes to drink in a sight he’d been deprived of for years.
Dean noticed the once-over and his tongue and mind froze for a moment. He averted his eyes from Sam’s intense scrutiny. Even though the moment passed in seconds, it felt as if time had slowed and the moment was just theirs.
“I, uh, well my arms won’t… ‘cause my ribs…” Dean stumbled over the words, “C’mon man I get you wanna torture me a bit for runnin’ off but are you really gonna make me spell it out?”
“I’ve been trying to take care of you all evening, Dean. Relax, and just… let me? You know, if it helps you to not have to reach too much, you only really need a pair of sweats.” Dean looked relieved, and yet at the same time, his expression held a shy nervousness that Sam had to admit he missed the hell out of. He helped Dean step into his threadbare sweats and then helped him get seated comfortably on the bed. He made sure Dean ate and then he sat next to him on the bed and they drank their beers.
“So, I know you’re itching to ask me all those questions I can see just bubbling under the surface, and I still wanna know how you found out about everything that happened yesterday. We got nothin’ but time now, so ask away.”
“Okay, yeah. Well, is this legit? You aren’t hunting and undercover, right, because this would be one of those things I’d classify as ‘in too deep’,” Sam asked with a laugh, stopping only when he noticed that Dean wasn’t smiling. He was just looking at his hands.
“I don’t hunt anymore, Sammy. I guess you can say I totally understand now why you felt you had to escape from it.”
Sam nodded, immediately feeling like he needed to change the subject. “Okay, well how long have you been following your childhood dream of being a professional racecar driver?”
“About six to eight months now, I think, give or take. After Dad died, I went through it pretty hard, and then one day I just got up. I found a job working on cars in Talladega and the lead mechanic there had connections with a pit crew. He knew I was getting squirrely and before he let me run off to parts unknown, he told me about the crew needing a spot filled. He liked the work I did and if me traveling with them meant that I’d be back in his shop again, he said he’d recommend me.”
“What had you so antsy?”
“I don’t have a clue. I guess I felt if I stayed in one place too long, either you or Bobby would track me down and I wasn’t ready to face you yet. It killed me, but I had no way to explain what I’d done without it sounding like shitty excuses.” Sam looked at Dean, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“What you’d done? Dean wha-?”
“It’s my fault. Dad’s dead because of me. He died, hurting, alone, and probably terrified because of me,” Dean gritted out as his voice broke. He felt his eyes stinging with tears that he still felt he wasn’t worthy to shed.
“Dean, you’re punishing yourself for something that’s not your fault. That wasn’t on you and by punishing yourself, you indirectly punished Bobby; you punished me. And you have no idea because the one time you even thought of me it had to do with Dad.”
Dean looked at Sam, shocked. It sounded like Sam knew he’d been out to Palo Alto. But he’d been so careful. While Dean’s thoughts furiously swirled, Sam took the moment to shake his frustration off by going to get them each two more beers. As he rose to stand, he grumbled, “You’re not as slick as you think; you trained me, remember?”
Sam had never been sure Dean was on campus until now, but he’d thought he’d heard Baby’s familiar engine from his apartment in the middle of the night. It had happened a few times that week, but by the time Sam had convinced himself he wasn’t dreaming or hearing things, the sound had stopped happening. Dean had left town without a “Heya, Sammy.” A few months later, Bobby called and Sam’s world came crashing down. He’d moved on as best he could, but he never stopped hoping Dean would pop up.
By the time Sam sat back next to Dean, Dean was able to recover. He explained that he wanted Sam to finish his education; he thought he could find John on his own. He also corrected Sam that that hadn’t been the only time in the past four years he had thought of Sam. He’d never stopped thinking of him, especially after the night he’d chosen to try and keep John Winchester from imploding with his revenge obsession.
Dean had felt horrible letting Sam leave them behind, but he had faith he was doing the right thing. He hadn’t wanted to distract Sam in any way from his chance at a completely normal life. That meant no hunting -and the Dean back then would never have stopped- and it also meant no more of their strangely codependent relationship. Both of their hearts had broken that day.
As soon as Sam heard his brother’s confession, his resolve broke. He thought Dean no longer wanted him, that he was pissed at him for choosing to go to college. Sam gingerly moved toward Dean, tilting his face up. As each caught the gaze of the other, the same happened with their lips. After so long apart, things heated up quickly until Sam was shirtless, tentatively kissing all of Dean’s bruises, and then slipping Dean’s erection deep into his mouth. Dean didn’t have to work very hard to reciprocate either. He was able to lean over Sam’s folded frame to give him a variation of a reach-around. They brought each other over the edge together and after Sam cleaned them both off, they slept peacefully for the first time in four years.
Sam mother-henned Dean through the rest of the weekend and found out Dean had two weeks until the next race, so there was plenty of time for him to heal. While he was, he worked on maintaining and improving the cars on his racing team. Sam would tag along and watch Dean work in the garage. He never would have thought about it before, but he found it kinda hot when Dean was covered in oil and grease smudges. He had always been enamored of the way Dean wielded mechanic’s tools when he was working on Baby, but seeing him so focused on his job now, it was eye-opening.
Then, Sam began handling and learning about the tools and car parts, taking a genuine interest in what Dean did. Dean was great, and he was making a name for himself. He’d gone from simply being a spotter to being a mechanic before Sam found him. Now, he was quickly on his way to becoming a car chief or crew chief. When it was time for Dean to go, Sam went along. Being back on the road together felt as natural as it always had.
Since that first night together in Dean’s hotel room, neither of them had brought up what happened between them, though there was a comfortable silence surrounding it. Nothing needed to be explained or defended. Sam and Dean both felt they were back on the same page again as far as their bond was concerned. Sam even got Dean to call Bobby to let the old man know he was alright.
What hadn’t been wrapped up in a tidy bow for Dean was how Sam so readily was able to join him. He’d seen him looking pretty well settled on campus. He’d had a girl by his side, and it looked like it was serious. Dean couldn’t imagine anyone would be okay with their significant other leaving for an undisclosed amount of time, no matter who they went with. While they were on the road to the next race in Talladega, Alabama Dean decided to ask Sam about it. Was he just helping him out? Was there a time limit on this? Was it just a vacation stop for Sam before he went back to be a big-time lawyer?
It wasn’t that Dean wouldn’t understand, but there was a stingy part of him that wanted Sam to stay. “So, Sammy, tell me about things in your world. How is school going? And what about your social life? Didn’t I see you with a long, lean hottie too? Looked pretty deep.”
“Actually, school had just finished. I’d just passed my finals for the semester, so I had pretty much been ready for a break. In fact, we had been out celebrating when I just happened to catch the race on one of the bar TV’s and the blowout as it happened, live. My nerves are kinda still on edge from seeing you in pain like that.” Sam looked down at his fidgeting hands while Dean drove.
“Anyway, I should be able to complete the finishing steps for graduation remotely. As for Jess, she was great. She really helped to make it easier to adjust to things. She didn’t take any bullshit; she didn’t pull punches. She was a lot like you. You guys even have the same birthday. She’s the one that suggested this, you know. She knew how bad it had been for me when I couldn’t find you.”
“Wow, she knew you pretty well, huh? She know everything about you?”
“Honestly, I thought I had always kept a part of myself sequestered away, but I don’t know. Maybe she saw that. She made the goodbye pretty clear.”
“Aw damn, man I’m sorry.”
“No, I mean it wasn’t like a bad thing. It was just a final thing.”
Dean glanced over at Sam for just a moment, accepting what Sam was trying to tell him. He wasn’t leaving. Thankfully, he’d been cleared to be Dean’s guest in the garages at Talladega Superspeedway. He knew Sam wouldn’t be able to join him in the pit lane yet, but if Dean’s plans worked out in the future, he would have his own crew and Sam would maybe be crew chief.
They arrived at a rural area that had a modern-looking, modest log cabin home and a gigantic barn on a lot with plenty of acreage. The closest neighbor was at least a twenty-minute walk. The property and land apparently belonged to Dean’s former boss and he let him stay there while he worked for him. When Dean left on the racing tour, Sonny told him the place would be open to him any time he needed a roof.
Dean parked the Impala in one of the sections of the barn, and he and Sam went into the house. They each showered and took a nap. Together, they made sandwiches and got a couple of beers, taking their meal out to the porch to sit and talk while they ate.
Dean was just taking a pull from his beer and the next thing he knew, he was sputtering and his nose was burning. When he was finally able to take a breath, he said, “What the hell man? Your timing is impeccable, you know that?”
Meanwhile, Sam was laughing and patting him on the back in a fruitless effort to help. “Hahaha! Oh man, I’m so sorry, but I just couldn’t let that go. I saw a flyer for the ‘Dega Infield and apparently, there’s a lot more to do than sit in the stands and watch the race. So get this, a photo of you on a mechanical bull made it in there.”
He draped himself over Dean’s shoulder and showed him the flyer he picked up at one of the dive bars Dean used to frequent when he’d lived here, The Bull Run. There he was, stretched out over a mechanical bull as if he’d just had the ride of his life, a look of relaxed bliss on his face. “It’s kinda sexy,” he whispered in Dean’s ear as it reddened in a flush. “I wanna see you do it.”
“As much as I get all tingly when you take control like that, I’m not nearly drunk enough,” Dean said with a shiver and that bit of resistance he always had when he wanted to be tempted, to be pushed just a little. Sam got up and walked around to face his brother.
“C’mon, I dare you. We don’t even have to go all the way to the track. Let’s head over to The Bull Run; you stay on that monstrosity and you can ride me afterward. You’ll have all day to recover tomorrow.
“Well, that’s a hell of an incentive, Sammy. You’re on.”
Sam held him with one hand and let gravity guide them to the door for support. When he finally got the key in hand, he unlocked it, braced himself and Dean, and then opened the door. Sam walked with Dean hanging from him like a lemur all the way to the bedroom. He was thankful there was a full moon out that at least dimly lit the house so he could see. His mind was distracted by the delicious friction Dean’s weight was applying.
Approaching the King-sized bed, Sam lifted Dean away from him, groaning with the loss of contact, and tossed him like a ragdoll onto the mattress. Dean went willingly, chuckling as he bounced once. He rose to a kneeling position after slipping out of his jeans as Sam started peeling off layers of his own. Then Dean did a teasing shimmy as he lifted his Henley up over his head and tossed it in Sam’s face. Sam took a deep whiff of Dean’s sweat; hints of motor oil, and sandalwood from his shampoo. It was clean and full of pheromones and pride. It made Sam growl from deep within his chest.
Dean grinned and said, “Someone’s wanting a taste of what that bull got, huh Sam? Get over here and gimme my prize.”
After taking the next day to themselves to rest and recover, Dean brought Sam out to the massive Talladega Superspeedway early in the morning so the team could prepare for testing and practice laps. The track was lightly buzzing with sparse activity as different teams began to show up. So many colorful, large-bodied stock cars were lined up for tuning or engaging in practice runs on the track. Sam felt a rush of excitement, like he was a kid again, seeing all the controlled chaos.
He followed Dean to his team’s area of the pit lane and did his best to follow instructions while Dean was making track bar, wedge, and firewall adjustments. Sam was pretty handy once he got the hang of what he needed to do, and together he and Dean were a well-oiled machine.
Again, Sam noticed every muscle Dean had moving and undulating beneath the skin he was showing. The sleeveless undershirt he wore was definitely less than what they usually wore on hunts. A single layer was all that separated Sam from Dean’s beautiful body. Even the coverall he had on when they’d started was sexy. The heavy breaths and grunts from the heavy labor were driving Sam up the wall. He made a concentrated effort to focus on finishing up the prep for the final practice run before the race, and then he tangled his fist into Dean’s shirt.
He brought his brother in close before sweeping him into a storage closet. “Finally, a break. What’s this called again?”
“Happy Hour,” Dean rasped out, apparently hot and bothered himself. “Whatcha thinkin’?”
“I’m thinking it’ll take me less than an hour to make you happy. I wanna blow you nice and slow while I finger you,” Sam said as he mouthed his way down Dean’s chest, pushing his coveralls and boxers down as he went. “Bonus? You’ll be ready for me to bend you over your favorite surface later on tonight.”
“Oh fuck, Sammy. Let’s do this. Don’t get too crazy. I don’t need to be walking funny in the pit lane. I got at least three hours of an actual race to work.”
“Dude, you’re already bowlegged.”
Dean gasped as his erection sprang free. Sam didn’t hesitate; he licked a stripe up Dean’s stiff shaft and then engulfed him as far as he could. He set up a steady, teasing pace as he palmed Dean’s balls. A slick combination of precome and saliva began to saturate Sam’s fingers and he used that to ease the way as he teased Dean’s hole.
As Sam pressed in, he sucked harder. Dean had to bite down on his fist to keep from making too much noise. It was so intense feeling the warmth of Sam’s mouth, the sensitive head of his cock hitting the back of Sam’s throat, and then settling into the sensation of gentle penetration with an occasional press on his prostate. It had his eyes rolling back in his skull.
Sam kept him on the edge of that cliff for as long as he could by occasionally slipping off his cock with a salacious pop and using his free hand instead. He looked up at Dean and whispered all the dirty things he’d been wanting to do in that garage and how doing this here where there was a bit of danger of getting caught was so fucking hot. All the while he was pistoning his fingers in and out.
When Dean finally tensed up and Sam knew he was close, he relaxed his throat, took Dean in a little further, and then swallowed. The pressure tipped Dean over the edge and he came so hard his legs buckled. Sam didn’t spill a drop. He found some Huck towels on a shelf and used one to clean Dean up while he caught his breath. He made sure Dean was alright and then left to go freshen up in the bathroom. At least then if Dean was still in there by the time anyone might have come in from Happy Hour, it would look normal.
If Dean’s ears were a bit red the rest of the day, he blamed it on the heat.
They made it through the rest of the day with no issues. Sam was nervous at the beginning of Dean’s shift in the pit lane, but after the first hour with no dangerous incidents, he was having as much fun watching Dean work as Dean was working. He changed tires, refueled the team, and made repairs and adjustments. The more Sam saw of this world Dean had made for himself, the more interested Sam was in sharing it with him.
What made the day even better was when the crew chief introduced Dean to the team owner. After the race, Dean told Sam the owner was going to be recruiting a new team next year and would be looking for someone to run it, which meant there could be a role for Sam on it. The crew chief really liked how Dean worked, the team had seen him drive, and they were impressed by his passion for cars.
When they got back to the cabin, Sam kept his promise and spread Dean out on Baby’s hood. Dean parked outside behind the barn just to be off the street. They laid out one of the thick emergency blankets over the still-warm hood and after ravishing each other, they stretched out naked and sated beneath the stars. They were together again and all was right between them. The road ahead was wide open for adventure. For the first time in their lives, they hadn’t a single worry in the world.