Chapter 1 - Welcome to Your Life
Been wondering I take a chance
The chance of circumstance
Cos nothing ever comes without a change
Welcome to your life
The morning sun rose over the still waters of Pike Lake in Ownatoma, Wisconsin. Bound closely by Minnesota to the East and Lake Superior to the North, the chill in the autumn air coming off the lake was palpable. The yellows, browns, greens, and reds of the changing leaves reflected off the lake, creating a colorful show. The sun gradually warmed over the little brown brick house that settled near the lake, separated by a worn dock and sprawling backyard. The East-facing windows of the house’s master bedroom were protected from the sun by maroon room-darkening curtains.
The occupants of this bedroom, Sam and Dean Winchester, were coiled together safely in the bigger-than-king-sized bed. The matching maroon sheets and pillowcases were accented by a dark gray flocked blanket which had been kicked down around their feet. The combined heat of their bodies meant that sleeping was more comfortable with the least amount of clothing, so most of the time they slept with only boxers on. Sam was always more comfortable sleeping on his stomach, with Dean laying in the crook of his neck, legs wound together. It was a Saturday, so no alarms were set to wake them up. Their days off together meant that they could sleep as late as they wanted, although neither of them usually did. The habits of waking early were hard to break, even as the repetition and relaxation of civilian life softened their survivalist nature.
Sure enough, Sam startled awake shortly after sunrise. He gasped and his limbs involuntarily twitched. Dean was awake as soon as he felt his brother’s movements. “Sammy?” He asked sleepily, hand reaching up to touch his face.
“Sorry, De,” Sam mumbled. “Bad dream.” Sam rubbed his eyes sleepily.
“Don’t be sorry, baby.” Dean leaned up to kiss Sam’s chin. “You know you don’t have to apologize. What was it about?”
“Yeah, I know.” Sam leaned into Dean’s touch and closed his eyes, squinting hard as though remembering a painful memory.
How many painful memories had they both experienced collectively? A number too high to count to, Sam thought.
“Well, you were hurt.” Sam said this slowly, painfully. He sat up then, looking around the darkened room, trying to ground himself in the present. Dean sat up with him, gently pulling Sam towards him so he was leaned up against his bare chest. Sam eased as Dean’s arms folded over his chest, easing into the embrace. Dean didn’t say anything yet and let him organize his thoughts. “I saw you in a dark room, lying on the ground. Bloody. Blood was everywhere. Your head, stomach, legs. I yelled your name over and over, but nothing came out. I tried running for you, but I couldn’t move. All I can remember is how scared I was that I couldn’t save you. And… that I thought you were dead.” Sam started to tear up then, reflexively pushing it down.
Dean reminded him gently “it’s okay, Sammy. It’s okay to cry.” He did then, quiet tears that ran down his neck and chest. Dean gently brushed them away, then leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “Was there anything else?”
“No,” Sam stuttered. “That’s all I remember.”
“You know that I’m not going anywhere, hmm?” Dean said quietly. Sam nodded.
“You know that you’re stuck with me forever, huh?”
Sam chuckled at that. “No one else I’d rather be stuck with.”
“That’s good. Cos I’m never going to leave you. Ever. Not in this life or any other, sweetheart.”
That was spoken with such promise and sincerity that Sam started to relax. The tension subsided, and he sunk further into Dean’s embrace.
“Love it when you call me nicknames,” Sam said contentedly.
“Mhmm, I know. That’s why I do it. Plus, I like it too, darlin’.”
Dean kissed the top of his head again, then ran his fingers through the soft brown locks. He knew how Sam loved it when he played with his hair. He worked his fingers through some of the tangles that evolved overnight, and Sam sighed contentedly.
“Hair’s getting so shaggy. Soon it’ll get so long that I won’t be able to see your pretty face.”
“Boy’s aren’t pretty, De. Girls are pretty. Boys are handsome.”
“Nuh-uh. You’re beautiful.”
Dean gently tilted his chin up to kiss his lips. Sam obliged, gladly taking in the affection. Dean gazed into his lover’s face. Sam’s face always entranced Dean. He watched Sam grow up. Watched as the boyish features that beautifully grew into those of a strong young man. The strong jaw and cheekbones. Those eyes, sunflower hazel and cool blue green, curtained by thick lashes. The dimples that always showed up when he smiled. And God, what a smile. Every time Sam smiled it was like the sun breaking through after a long rainstorm. Dean grazed his thumb against Sam’s face.
“So beautiful,” he said quietly.
Sam blushed and said “well, you’re not so bad either De.”
Sam looked up and returned a kiss to Dean’s lips.
Dean flashed him a classic Dean smile, all cockiness and charm.
“Don’t forget dashing and charismatic, too.”
“And always so modest,” Sam said with a playful eyeroll.
“Of course,” Dean said, kissing Sam again. They lay pressed together, hands lazily wandering over each other’s bodies and faces. This type of slow affection was something they both settled into after some time of living a domestic life together. Taking time to enjoy intimacy without rushing was not something they were used to. Especially in the beginning. Years of unresolved affection and hiding their feelings resulted in an explosion of rushed, needy and desperate sex.
Now that they had time to settle, intimacy was less about getting gratification, and more about enjoying each other.
Of course, it wasn’t all gentle love making with them. Neither of the brothers were known for their healthy coping mechanisms, and sex was an outlet for pain, sadness, grief, anger.
Sometimes, Sam woke up from a nightmare desperate for reassurance. He would wake Dean up with a blowjob, desperately sucking him down just to feel alive, feel the comfort of how his brother’s body felt. He would wake up and immediately lay over his big brother and kiss him roughly, just needing to see that he was with him and was okay.
Now he just craved affection. Dean ran his hands over his face, down his neck and chest, to the small of his back and over his hips. Sam returned the touch by stroking Dean’s body.
Sam ran his hands through Dean’s short hair and stroked his neck and over his collarbone while kissing his freckled cheeks and the tip of his nose. Dean sighed contentedly and Sam lay his head against his big brother’s chest where the amulet poked his neck. This didn’t bother him. It never did. The feeling of the amulet was comforting. Dean wore it everywhere, only taking it off to shower. The leather cording that secured it had to be replaced more than once. Sam ran his thumb over the metal piece, as warm and familiar as a security blanket.
Dean’s hand clasped with his there, their twin silver wedding bands clicking as their fingers intertwined. Those were rarely taken off as well.
“Want me to get coffee?”
Dean always liked his coffee black. He slowly came around to occasionally enjoying coffee “Sam style,” with creaminess and flavor. Dean still teased Sam about his girly coffee, of course. Dean poured a lavish helping of chocolate caramel creamer into the carafe and started a pot of hazelnut coffee. He pondered for a moment and topped the mugs with a generous dollop of whipped cream and chocolate syrup. He came back to their room with the sweet concoction and settled into next to Sam. “Dessert in a mug?” Sam said, amused.
“Hell, it’s the weekend Sammy. You can take a break from being a health nut for a day.”
The growling of their stomachs prompted them to make their way out of bed eventually. They slipped on their weekend attire, in this case, plain tee’s and sweats. The rest of the coffee was served, and Dean rifled through the fridge to see what he could produce for breakfast.
He started his usual favorite, bacon and eggs while Sam pulled out apple cinnamon muffins that he made the previous day and warmed them in the broiler. When everything was ready, they sat at the kitchen counter on barstools. They playfully jabbed at each other with their elbows as they ate.
After the dishes were done, they retired to the sunroom that faced the backyard and the lake. It was enclosed by large screened windows which let in the fresh air. It was early fall, so the chill of winter hadn’t yet required them to cover the windows just yet. The generous room was decorated with a large wicker couch and matching chairs adorned with oversized blue cushions. The rug that covered most of the room’s floor was interlaced with teal and yellow paisley patterns, and of course concealed a large painted devil’s trap. Dean settled himself with a book on Norse mythology on the couch while Sam lay across his lap with a sketchbook, working on the outline of a portrait of the lake with a pencil.
The domestic life encouraged them both to pursue their interests and hobbies. The room was decorated with much of Sam’s work. Sketches of nature, scenes both abstract and non-abstract, and of course, Dean. The largest was one that Dean lovingly framed and hung above the back door. It was a close-up of his face, intricately detailed. Behind the profile was a shadowy scene, a ray of sketched light shining on him. It took Sam months to complete and he presented it to Dean for the previous Christmas. Dean cried when he opened it.
Dean absently ran his hands through Sam’s hair while Sam worked, and he nudged into Dean’s touch like an affectionate cat.
“Do you ever feel guilty for… I don’t know. Having this?” Sam gestured at the expanse of their wide backyard, the privacy of the surrounding woods, the natural beauty of the lake. He sat up then, sliding his sketchbook safely under the couch.
Dean put his own book aside and faced his brother. He looked at him thoughtfully, forehead wrinkled in the way it did when he was deep in thought.
Dean put his arm around Sam’s shoulders then, pulling him in.
“I do, Sammy. I do. It doesn’t feel right to me, I guess. I never felt like I was right for a normal life. I always thought that I would die young and you would’ve moved on to have a normal life.”
Sam bristled at that. He knew how Dean felt, but it didn’t hurt any less to hear it.
“Hell, I still don’t feel like I’ve earned the love of someone… someone like… well, you, Sammy.”
“De, I-” But Dean cut him off, and faced him.
“But guess what? It’s our life now. Even though I’ve deserved nothing less of a bloody death and a trip straight to Hell. Whether some deity out there thinks we don’t deserve it. Whether it’s fucked up and bad and wrong that we’re brothers. We got our chance and we took it. We have this. We made it, together.”
Sam teared up at that last sentence, at hearing something so sincere from his Dean. He leaned into his shoulder, but Dean gently lifted his chin up so that they were eye to eye.
“We made it, Sammy. We thought so many times that we lost each other. But we made it. We have a nice life together, a lifetime to spend together. So, the way I see it is that we should spend less time regretting and more time enjoying the here and now. What do you say, sweetheart?”
Sam tried to say something to affirm it, but he couldn’t do anything but nod and wrap his arms around Dean and bury his face in the crook of his neck. He cried more then, a loud sobbing that felt like it was being ripped from somewhere deep inside him.
Dean teared up too, not being able to control the automatic reaction he had to seeing Sam upset.
Dean always was the one to cry a manly tear every now and then, but he cried with his little brother. He had feelings that were kept in too long just as much as Sam did.
Sam felt himself grow weaker as he cried, slouching from the couch. Dean caught him, easing him to sit on the floor. Dean held him tight, letting him cry.
“It’s okay, Sammy. It’s okay, baby. You can feel guilty, sad, whatever it is that you feel. But don’t forget that you deserve this. You deserve to live how you want. And if that life is with me, then I’ll live it with you.”
“Of course, I want it, De.” Sam uttered, wiping tears and snot away, eyes reddened. He looked up at Dean and grasped his face between both of his palms.
“Fuck. I just can’t believe it sometimes Dean. Can’t believe that we have a normal life together. Can’t believe that I have you. That you’re mine finally. That you want me just as much as I want you.”
Dean smiled at him, stroking the back of his neck.
“Well, you do. I’m all yours. And you’re all mine, hmm?”
Sam nodded furiously. “Of course.”
“So, let’s enjoy this, together, baby boy.”
Sam shuddered at the pet name. “Together.”
He wiped at his face again, and feverishly kissed Dean. Dean was caught off guard from the sudden touch, but quickly regained awareness and leaned into the kiss. His grip still on the back of Sam’s neck, he wrapped his other arm around Sam’s shoulders, holding him up as they adjusted themselves so that they were both kneeling. Sam being taller didn’t matter here. He had a very long torso, meaning that when him and Dean’s legs were folded, they were the same height.
Sam clutched at Dean as they kissed, moving his hands to Dean’s shoulders, then grabbed onto his hips so tightly that Dean was sure there were going to be fingerprint bruises later. That didn’t matter. He loved being needed by his Sammy.
“Sammy…” he muttered as Sam nudged his arms aside and tugged his T-shirt over his head.
“What?” Sam asked, in between kisses and nips to his collarbone.
“You were upset.”
Dean protested as Sam ripped off his own T-shirt and pressed their bare chests together as he hoisted Dean onto his lap.
“Yeah and sitting on your dick would make me way less upset.”
Dean let out a low growl at that. All feelings of sadness disappeared when Sammy talked dirty to him.
He could feel the effects of his and Sam’s arousal as he wrapped his legs around Sam’s torso.
Sam eased Dean off his lap and laid him down in front of him. Sam climbed onto Dean’s legs now, knees on either side of Dean’s hips.
Sam urged Dean to buck his hips up and removed his sweats and boxers before reaching to remove his own. Dean let out an involuntary gasp at seeing Sam naked and erect on top of him. Sam smirked at Dean’s hungry reaction, basking in it.
Sam gripped both of his and Dean’s cocks in each of his fists, stroking them both off evenly.
“What? Want me to stop?”
“Mhmm, what I thought.”
Sam eased off Dean’s legs to lean down and take him in his mouth.
Dean groaned then, throwing his head back and bucking into Sam’s wet lips.
“You’re gonna be the death of me Sammy.” He groaned.
Sam released him and tossed his hair back, smirking. “At least you’ll die happy,” then went back to drinking Dean down.
He took Dean all the way to the shaft, and looked up at Dean, eyes glossy.
“Fuck, Sammy. Keep doing that and I’m going to cum down your throat.”
“No, you’re gonna cum in me and you’re gonna do it soon.” Sam released Dean, sitting up to straddle him once more, bossy as ever.
“Gott go get some lube, Sammy. Don’t wanna hurt you.”
“I don’t care,” Sam all but whined. “Need. You.” Any gripes Dean wanted to add were muffled by more rough kisses from Sam, who nipped at his bottom lip and ran his hands up and down his chest.
Sam quickly worked himself open with a finger, then two. All the while he grinded against Dean, Dean leaning into the friction and groaning. Then he eased himself over Dean, easing his cock just at the beginning of his entrance.
He lowered himself just a little bit, muscles on his strong thighs flexing.
He sighed as he pressed Dean inside him, just barely more than the head. It was a tight fit even when there was plenty of lube, but the intensity of the intimacy blew away any sadness and fear from the previous night’s nightmare and the subsequent feelings of guilt and sorrow.
Dean groaned as the sheer heat of Sam surrounded him.
“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked as he saw Sam’s hazel eyes flicker with pain, the cords of his neck muscles straining.
“Mhmm. It’s a good hurt.” He said, before lowering himself entirely onto Dean’s thick cock.
The surprise and intensity of it forced a choked cry out of Dean, and Sam let out a gasp of pleasure with an equal amount of pain.
Sam took a deep breath and lifted himself up, then fully down again.
“Jesus fuck Sammy. So fucking good fuck.”
It was always an accomplishment to Sam to leave the great Dean Winchester without coherent words. Especially now that they weren’t in motel rooms and had a house to themselves. They could be as loud as they wanted.
“You’re tellin’ me,” Sam gasped as he continued the pace of rising up and down rhythmically.
He only paused to give Dean rough, needy kisses.
“Keep this up and I’m gonna cum in you baby boy.”
“Good. That’s what I want, big brother.”
Dean’s eyes rolled back as he bucked his hips up, matching Sam’s pace.
“You cum first.” Dean ordered, voice growing deeper.
Sam’s eyes brightened, loving Dean taking charge.
He rose and lowered himself again one, two, three times and gasped as he came, shooting ropes of cum onto Dean’s chest and neck.
Seeing his Sammy come undone like that, cumming untouched by just having Dean inside him made Dean lose it too, loosening a gasp and a cry as he shot his load deep inside Sam.
He panted, bucking his hips more until he felt his cock start to soften.
Sam’s eyes were glazed over, legs limp, barely holding himself up. Dean released himself from Sam, exerting a soft moan from him.
“Shh, it’s okay.” Dean said, easing Sam off his lap into a sitting position. He lowered him onto the rug, catching his head with his hand as he lay next to him. “I’ve got you, baby.”
Sam muttered incoherently as he wrapped himself around Dean.
“Love you De.”
“Love you too, Sammy.”
Dean kissed his forehead after wiping away beads of sweat that accumulated there.
Sam looked like he would doze off, but Dean gently shook him.
“Let’s go get cleaned up, then we can go back to bed.”
Sam groaned and gingerly sat back up, sighing as he pulled himself to stand.
Dean smirked at him.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone why you’re walking funny.”
Sam shot him a bitchface and went to heat up the shower.
The luxuries of a large shower and a comfortable bed were not lost on the Winchester’s, even after living together for a little over 4 years. The house needed some fixing up when they got it. It was built in the 50’s and was outdated at the very least. The first year there, Sam arranged to get the bathroom redone while Dean was at work.
Enjoying a long, warm shower was something that they rarely got to enjoy, let alone both lovers being able to fit into a shower comfortably. The new shower was not only big enough to fit the two of them comfortably, complete with a built-in bench which as useful for other activities that they sometimes liked to do in the shower.
They were both sleepy post-sex, and quickly washed up. They dried off and Sam climbed into bed, still naked.
“Worn out Sammy?”
“Yeah it’s cos of you, jerk.”
Dean snorted and said, “Well I didn’t hear you complain, bitch.”
Dean settled in next to him, not dressing himself either. The feeling of Sam’s skin on his was a sensation he wouldn’t pass up. Sam flopped onto his side, his eyes already starting to close. Dean slipped in behind him, wrapping one arm under Sam’s pillow and the other around his shoulders. Dean stroked Sam’s chest and said, “Love you so much, baby.”
“Love you too, De,” Sam sighed as he enjoyed Dean’s body against his own, snuggling into Dean further. Soon after, Dean felt the steady rise and fall of Sam’s chest as he dozed off.
Dean stayed awake just a little longer, listening to Sam’s soft sleep sounds and feeling him relax. When he was sure Sam was sleeping soundly, he let himself doze off too.
Dean woke up shortly after and looked over to see Sam still fast asleep. He reached into the nightstand to get a book so he could do something quietly while waiting for Sam to wake up.
Sam slept so deeply that he dreamt, but it was a good dream. It was of him and Dean's first time.