“I’m leaving to get some stuff, need anything?” Dean calls from the entranceway down to where Sam is ensconced at his library table, almost hidden behind several tall stacks of books.
Sam barely looks up to answer, “Just something for dinner, we’re out of those frozen dinners. And some orange juice for tomorrow morning.”
“That all?” Dean offers, not expecting a real answer, knowing that Sam hadn’t stopped to think about himself or his surroundings except for the books. He’d dived into the pool of knowledge that was the Men of Letters bunker and hadn’t come up for breath yet. Sam hadn’t even noticed the awesome mini-fridge Dean had installed last week in the main room. Honestly, it had been a little lonely, but he was happy that Sam was so engaged and immersed in something hunting related. The research stuff had always been Sam’s favorite part of hunting and with this new resource that was magnified a hundred-fold. Maybe this will be the thing that makes Sam really want to keep hunting he thought to himself.
“Yeah, bye.” Sam mumbles, diving back into the red leather-covered book in front of him, peering closely at the illustrations.
Dean is glad to get back above ground, and start up the Impala, as she roars to life he thinks again that it was a little unfair that they got this great new place to stay but there wasn’t a place for his baby. He drives away from their teeny-tiny new town, good old Lebanon, Kansas, the geographic center of the continental US of A as he’d reminded Sam when they’d first arrived, towards the larger Smith Center in search of their greater selection of stores. Lebanon is so small that he’s decided to make it a point to shop for supplies in other nearby towns. It would be beyond stupid to blow their cover right away just because someone notices the two new guys in a town with a population of just two hundred people.
Once he’s on the highway, he begins to muse on likely places where he could build a garage addition and how hard it would be to connect it to the bunker. He doesn’t want to screw up any of the wards of course, that’s what really makes the place so amazing, they finally feel safe. Thinking about it now, he hasn’t felt this safe since, well he can’t really remember a time. And that was what Sam had told him he wanted, was to be safe, so maybe Sam really doesn’t need anything past that right now.
Pulling into the outskirts of Smith Center after about twenty minutes of driving straight down highway 36, he starts heading for the closest thing to a natural foods store he’s been able to find so far. Where he knows they have the kind of fresh-squeezed orange juice Sam really enjoys he notices a ‘Closing Forever’ banner floating with some red balloons in front of a mattress store. His back twinges at the thought of the lumpy what had to be horsehair mattress that he’s been using at the bunker. The thing was built to last, but it’s well-past just uncomfortable and way too hard. After a lifetime of sleeping on motel mattresses, Dean is ready to spend some of the money left on Brandon Arkley’s credit card on something decent to sleep on. Maybe if I get one for myself then I can convince Sam he should have one too, hopefully they come in extra-long he thought to himself. He is finding that it’s hard to take care of someone so self-sufficient, but Dean is more than determined to try to figure out how to take care of Sam without him realizing it.
Dean pulls up and parks in front of Avery’s Mattress Super Store which seems to be pretty much empty judging by the absence of any cars whatsoever in the small parking lot. He isn’t sure of the protocol of how to go about buying something like this, since he never had. Ever.
“Can I help you find something sir?” Asks an older blond woman near the entrance who looks to be the lone employee on duty today.
“Yeah, uh, I’m looking to buy a new bed.” Dean answers, hand going up to feel the skin of the back of his neck. That calming self-touch thing he always does when he’s nervous.
“Well you’ve come to the right place. What type are you interested in?” She asks brightly.
“I don’t know exactly, been a long time since I’ve been bed shopping.” Dean lies, hopefully convincingly, he really has no idea of what is even available, except for the occasional television ads he can recall seeing with people jumping on a bed and a wine glass amazingly not spilling a drop. That can’t be a real thing, can it? He’s never even thought of buying his own bed. Why would he have with the way his life has gone? Lisa’s bed was the one he’s slept in longest, but it had been fairly new, and pretty comfortable, and he sure as hell hadn’t been in a place where he would have considered buying a brand-new bed with her.
“Well there’s been some new types of beds introduced recently, my favorite is the memory foam, here’s the best one we carry in my opinion, go ahead, try it out.” She waves her hand at a brand-new, white mattress with a plastic cover at one end, down by where your feet would land.
Is he supposed to actually lie down on this bed, does he take his shoes off, can he take a nap, what if he makes some ridiculous happy sounds, damn this whole thing is embarrassing. He feels stuck in not knowing what he’s meant to do here.
The saleslady looks at him expectantly, gestures again with her hand, “Go ahead and have a lie down, you’ve got to feel it to believe how nice this is.”
Dean decides to just go for it. Sitting down carefully and placing his feet on the plastic cover at the foot of the bed he lies back slowly. And wow, just wow. This is the best thing he’s ever felt lying down by himself. Seriously this is perfect, supportive, yet soft and it doesn’t smell or have funky stains. He realizes he’s lying there with his eyes closed and a no doubt very silly grin on his face. “I’ll take it.” He says, imagining how nice it will be to sleep on this thing every night.
“Don’t you want to try out some other beds?” The saleslady asks, surprised at this strange customer’s easy decision, no one ever just buys the first bed they lie on. What is this guy’s story anyways?
“No, you said this is the best, I trust you.” Dean insists, looking up at her with such a trusting look on his face.
He’s definitely not the usual customer, but hey, he wants to actually buy something, who is she to argue, “Well okay then, you’re sure making my job easy, what size do you need?”
“It can’t be too big, I don’t have a huge room.” He answers, still not getting up from the awesome cushiness that is this bed.
“Well for someone your size I’d say a full is the smallest you could get away with and be comfortable, unless it’s for two people, then that’s pushing it unless you’re very close sleepers.” This is always the touchiest part of making a sale to a customer who comes in alone, having to make assumptions about how many people are sleeping in the bed they’re purchasing.
Dean is surprised at the question, he hadn’t really considered it. It’s not like he’s been bringing girls back to their motel rooms in a long time, and he certainly wouldn’t ever bring some bar chick to the bunker, but then there’s Sam. And how they used to be, maybe could be again, and yeah they were always “close sleepers”, but he doesn’t let himself go there, not in front of this stranger. “Yeah, sounds like a full size will do it for me, thanks.”
Realizing that he can’t possibly have this thing delivered to the bunker, he decides to just tie it on top of the Impala, luckily Baby’s got a big enough roof and it’s finally not raining out today. After he gets it secured and drives off with a wave out the window to the mattress saleslady Dean attempts to remember what he was coming out here for in the first place. Getting diverted by the purchase of a bed is kind of unusual for him, he’s not usually much of an impulse shopper. Especially not for big stuff like this.
He stops in at the used record/book store he’d seen last time he’d been in town to finally get his own vinyl copy of Zeppelin’s first album. He’s always wanted it but never bothered to buy it. Why would he? Not like you could drive all over the country with a record in the hot trunk and ever even find a place to play it. Now he’s got a place to keep it, and his very own record player to play it on. He barely remembers to stop for Sam’s OJ and stuff for making them some hamburgers tonight in that awesome kitchen they haven’t really used much yet. The drive back to the Bat Cave goes okay, luckily it’s not a high speed road he has to drive on with the mattress tied on the roof.
Sam doesn’t even seem to notice Dean bringing in the mattress, or him throwing the old one down into the lower level, but he does finally come to the door when he hears the strains of Zeppelin. It kind of stands out from all the swing and doo-wop they’ve been spinning since moving in to this place.
Dean’s tucking in the blanket on his new bed when he hears Sam behind him.
“What’s all this?”
“Oh, I got a new bed when I was out today, threw out the old lumpy one, couldn’t sleep on that thing for shit.”
“You’re finally admitting you’re getting old huh?”
“Screw off, I deserve it.” Dean flops back onto the bed, letting out an involuntary moan from the sheer comfort.
Sam just looks at him fondly for a long minute, then finally says, “Yeah. You do.”
Dean tilts his head in question, because that wasn’t the response he was expecting.
Sam keeps his eyes on Dean’s, silently trying to communicate that he really does believe that Dean deserves all of this, a home, a room of his own, and a comfy new bed. He is practically vibrating with Dean’s reflected happiness. So much so that he begins to smile, larger and larger until he can tell his dimples are showing, which he knows Dean loves to see.
“What are grinning at ya doofus?” Dean asks in frustration, wondering why his giant of a brother is standing in the doorway grinning at him like he’s given him the last cookie or something.
“I’m just happy that you’re happy dude.” Sam answers, holding back from saying more.
“Whatever, here, just lie down and try it, I see you eyeing my new bed.”
Sam ducks his head a little, like he’s embarrassed to be caught out in openly wanting like this. Usually he keeps himself a bit more in check, doesn’t let Dean see how much or how deep the want goes. He’s always thought it scared Dean to see that.
“Alright, you caught me, shove over.”
Sam lies down next to Dean, wishing there was a second pillow for his head, but glad that at least Dean got a bed big enough for both of them. Thinking that thought makes him tense up, because he doesn’t let himself think like that anymore, not for a long time. He closes his eyes and tells himself to relax. The bed holds him like the most careful, tender lover. He feels so comfortable the only word he can say is an impressed, “Dude.”
“I know right?” Dean’s been watching Sam the whole time. Seeing him actually let go from his tenseness and let himself feel and experience, take in the unique sensation of an actual new comfortable high-quality bed. He knows now that this was totally worth the hassle and expense, and he’s going to go get one for Sam tomorrow.
“This is the best bed I think I’ve ever been on in my life. Seriously this is awesome.” Sam says, not even trying to hold back the small moans of pleasure.
“It is. I figured I’m worth it.” Dean answers, nonchalantly throwing that line out there, not really meaning it, but figuring he has to have some sort of excuse for spending so much of their not-money on this bed.
Sam turns just his head and looks at him directly in the eyes and says with what he knows is way too much conviction and intensity, “Yeah you are, you are definitely worth it Dean.”
Sam’s words hit him deeply, right where they were aimed, but Dean can’t accept them, never has been able to whenever anyone tries to get him to think about what he’s worth, “Shut up already.”
“No, I won’t. You always do this. You’re worth a thousand beds like this Dean. You should have always had a nice room like this all to yourself. The things you’ve done for the world, for our family, for me? All of it without ever asking for anything in return, yeah, you’re due something nice like this. Damn straight you are.”
And just like always when Sam finally cuts loose with one of these chick-flick comments, Dean feels his starved heart soak it all up like the love-sick fool he knows he is. But he can’t answer that, he can’t even process it all. If this is really what Sam thinks about him, then why aren’t they still…? So he chooses deflection, just like always, “You are too. I’m getting you one of these tomorrow dude, like it or not.”
“I don’t like it. Don’t get me one.” Sam says quickly.
“Why? Thought you liked this, with all the happy moaning you’re doing, I know you’re lying.” Dean teases.
“Just don’t want my own.” Sam answers simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He sees Dean realize what he means, and then he leans in to softly brush their lips together.
Dean wraps himself around Sam and pulls him in close, slotting them back together like they’ve never been apart, kisses Sam deeply and completely. When they break apart, both breathing much heavier, “Well, if I’d known that I would have gotten the next larger size of bed.”
Sam runs his hands down Dean’s back, feeling the new hardness of his Purgatory-tempered body to his ass, tugging him in closer so that their groins meet in that deliciously familiar way. As he starts thrusting against Dean, Sam barely manages to say, “We can go exchange it tomorrow.”
Dean throws his head back in a laugh, one of those full-body ones that never fail to delight everyone around him, and this time it’s just Sam who gets the full force effect of all that unbridled joy, Dean’s whole body convulsing with this sudden happiness and sensation until he’s shuddering against Sam, working his hips in shallow pulses, meeting Sam’s thrusts in their easy synchronicity.
With his brother done laughing, Sam leans in to kiss him again, this time with the fierce urgency of now and finally and missed you so much I could barely breathe. Something deep inside him recognizes that this is their first time together in a very long time. And they’re in their first home that they’ve ever shared. And to top it all off they’re in a brand-new bed and it’s all too much, there’s so much he wants to say but he knows Dean will kill him if he starts talking now, when they’re like this so desperate to connect with each other. So Sam does what he knows will guarantee them both the happiest of happy endings, he untangles himself from Dean, stands up and quickly removes his clothing, eyes never leaving Dean’s, which darken with every piece he takes off.
Something about seeing Sam standing before him naked completely undoes Dean. There he is, the whole Sam, living, breathing, yeah damaged, but beautiful and strong and still here. Still giving himself over to him, to them. He traces his eyes up and down the whole length of Sam, stopping at his groin where his beautiful cock is so hard and so ready. He feels his mouth water at the want that’s filling him up completely. He sits up and pulls Sam between his legs on the edge of the bed. Nuzzles his face into the top of Sam’s thighs, breathing hotly over his cock. He bites and sucks a mark into that soft spot near Sam’s hipbones that’s always been his favorite.
Sam breathes in sharply when Dean bites him, grabs at his head holding him there by his short hair. Feeling this strong impulse of never wanting him to go anywhere else ever again. He pulls Dean’s head back just a little so that he can see his brother’s face. The look there is one he’s not seen in more than a year. The possessive, insatiable, unstoppable want makes his knees buckle a little, but Dean holds him up. Like always, he’s rock solid. “Want you Dean.” Sam says, meaning more than just now, much more than just tonight, but pretty much forever.
Dean groans at the words, hearing all the levels Sam is speaking to him at and licks the tip of his cock slowly, digging in a little at the slit and then suckling at the whole head. He hears Sam make the noise that tells him he’s doing it right and smiles, taking all of Sam in that he can. It’s been a while, too long, and he can’t take all of Sam’s cock, but he’ll relearn that skill he promises himself. Remembering all the praise Sam had heaped on him when he’d finally mastered deep-throating. He sucks hard and then harder as he slides up and down, the perfect suction and rhythm something not forgotten. Sam’s hand in his hair tightens.
“Dean stop, wanna come when you’re in me.” Sam says weakly, because he really wants to come right now this second down Dean’s throat, but it’s so much better for both of them when he’s got Dean deep inside, surrounding him.
At that thought Dean pulls off looking up at Sam again, and stands up slowly, running his hands up from Sam’s ass to his shoulders, leaning up to kiss him softly. He steps away and pulls the covers of the neatly made bed back and gestures for Sam to lay down. Dean watches his brother arrange himself on the new bed, spreading out wantonly, fisting his red, spit-shined cock. “C’mon Dean.”
Dean grins, and starts taking off his clothes, piece by piece, until he’s completely naked and just standing there fisting his own cock in time with Sam’s hand on his own. Seeing his brother’s lust darkened eyes he reaches into the bedside table drawer and pulls out the lube that he’d placed there. Not hoping that this would ever happen, just for his own solitary pleasure. But he hadn’t put the other necessary item in there, because this, what’s about to happen right now, well it hadn’t been in his plans, “Don’t have any condoms Sammy, that okay?”
“Of course, just get over here already, don’t wanna wait anymore for you.” Sam insists, hand speeding up to show Dean he means it.
Dean hears the urgency in Sam’s voice and kneels on the bed between Sam’s legs, throws the lube down next to his hip and runs both hands up Sam’s thighs, rubbing gently and teasingly on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. There’s nothing more delicious than hearing Sam moan and feeling him squirm under his hands once again, when he thought he’d never have this. He knows it’s been a long time for Sam, so he opens him carefully and completely, much more slowly and teasingly than he usually would. But this first time between them has got to go just right. It feels like everything’s riding on it.
“I’m ready, please Dean, please, need you.” Sam begs, thrusting hard back onto the intrusion of Dean’s large fingers, feeling so good, but it’s not enough yet.
Hearing his brother’s begging is a turn on which doesn’t seem possible to Dean. He’d thought he was as turned on as he could get, but no, Sam always pulls more out of him than he knows is even there. “Alright, hold on, almost there.” Dean removes his fingers from Sam and slicks himself up, kneeing in closer to Sam. He pulls the one pillow out from under Sam’s head and pushes it under Sam’s hips. Now that he’s in the right place, and about to enter Sam for the first time since, god he can’t even remember how long, he pauses, looking down at his brother. He’s just as breathless and debauched as Dean feels, his eyes shining with want and heat. Dean reaches out a hand and strokes Sam’s face gently, “Ready?”
“Finally, yeah c’mon already.” Sam answers pressing his head into the soft weight of Dean’s hand, relishing the care and comfort in the touch as Dean finally starts pushing inside. He wills himself to open, to accept, to receive, pulling Dean into his body as much as he can manage. It’s been so long he’d forgotten this feeling of staying open, and the intense need to be filled completely, the push/pull of it so maddening.
Dean feels the tightness holding him fast release and he starts to move, thrusting gently at first, but Sam meets those tentative thrusts by fucking himself up onto Dean as hard as he can. Dean gets the message and begins a faster, more ruthless rhythm that Sam can’t keep up with, finally letting go and letting Dean just take him over. He feels Sam’s hands gripping his ass and pulling him tighter and closer, strong fingertips pushing in so roughly he can sense the bruises forming already. Just the idea of Sam marking him once again flips something over in Dean, like he can see this happening from up above them, their two bodies entwined, pushing and pulling together, moving as one towards the same goal, the beauty of Sam’s face in ecstasy, the sight of Sam’s fingers pulling his ass cheeks apart with all their strength. It’s too much, so he loses the rhythm.
But Sam doesn’t care, he’s been transported to that place that only Dean’s ever been able to get him to, the detachment from reality to just pure feeling and sensation. Being just in his body, right here, right now with Dean filling him. He moves in time with Dean through the wild uncoordinated rhythm, echoing Dean’s thrusts weakly. Finally Dean reaches between them and takes Sam’s cock in hand and grips him so tightly, so perfectly, it’s too much. He convulses up towards Dean, coming hard as he meets him up above where he is, pulling him in and down and close and holding him in, deep so deep inside until he feels Dean shudder and release.
They lay there panting and still moving a little together as the tendrils of sensation float away, Dean looking at Sam closely. They both smile at the same time, knowing what the other is thinking, but Dean actually says it out loud.
“Tell me again, why we haven’t been doing this?”
“Hell if I know dude! I’m just glad we are.” Sam says, slapping Dean hard on the ass, knowing that there’s tons of reasons why this physical intimacy between them had been put on hold. The distance, both real and imagined between them, the aftermath of Purgatory, their entanglements with Benny and Amelia, the worry about Cas and Kevin, the discovery and loss of a grandfather, all of that is there. And maybe they’ll talk about it and maybe they won’t, but at least they have this way of communicating back. It’s gotten them through tough times before, so there’s no reason it can’t work for them now.
Dean pulls out and grabs his shirt off the floor to wipe them both off. He tugs the pillow out from under Sam’s hips and puts it up near the headboard and flops face-first down onto it, arm across Sam’s stomach holding him close.
Sam pulls the sheet and blanket up over them, wiggles over a little and gets his head next to Dean’s on the pillow which smells so good, it smells like them, instead of the anonymous, clinical, chemical new-bed smell. “This a new pillow too? Feels squishy like the bed.” Sam asks.
“Yeah they threw it in for free when I bought the bed.” Dean answers, kissing him along the jaw, up to his ear, making Sam shiver.
“You should get a couple more tomorrow when you exchange the bed. Really nice having a new pillow too.”
“It is, I never thought about it, but yeah, it’s good having one that’s only gonna be used by me. Or you.” Dean adds, kind of trailing off because he realizes that he’s maybe assumed too much. That this fuck maybe didn’t mean they’re back to spending the night together every night. He wants it so much he’s scared to say anything more because Sam might not be on the same page.
Sam, the ever-observant one hears what’s unsaid, he’s learned to read Dean’s silences as well as his facial expressions after all these years together, “This really okay with you Dean, the getting the bigger bed for both of us thing? Or did you want this room to be just yours? I don’t want to invade your space or anything. There’s plenty of rooms, and I can fix one up for myself. I guess we could even just get two of the beds tomorrow.” Sam stops himself from rambling on, suddenly unaccountably nervous about Dean’s answer. Because he wants this, their own little room in this massive place, someplace that really feels like them. He wants it more than anything, but he can’t say it, because he can’t make Dean want the same thing, doesn’t want to guilt him into starting up their relationship again.
Seeing Sam’s hesitance and recognizing that it’s probably the same thing he’s feeling, Dean decides that it’s his turn to put himself out there, he’s going all in, being with Sam like this is worth the risk. “It’s more than okay Sammy, it’s what I wanted really, but I didn’t think you’d…well, I didn’t think you wanted this with me anymore. So I thought I’d at least make a spot in this place that felt like mine since I finally had a chance to. But I’d really rather share it with you. So long as you don’t complain about the music I play in here.”
Sam’s eyes get suspiciously moister at Dean’s words, there couldn’t be anything better than this. “I do Dean, I want this with you. More than anything. You, me together, safe, in this place? It’s almost too good to be true. So yeah, you can play whatever the hell you want. Speaking of, should we turn the album over now and listen to the other side?”
Dean’s so grateful to Sam for giving him this out, to escape the almost-tears and the heartfelt confessions that are getting close to too much. He kisses Sam deeply, relishing the taste of them together until he can barely stand the joy of it all. Sam back in his arms, maybe for good this time. It’s all good. Finally he breaks the kiss and sits up slowly, running his hand through Sam’s hair gently before getting up. Luckily he’s chosen a fairly small room from the ones available, so it’s not too many steps to the record player. And soon the first few notes of “Your Time Is Gonna Come” fill the space, but it’s not the right song, the words are all wrong for what’s happening here between them. So he lifts up the tone-arm and puts it back down in the fourth groove for “I Can’t Quit You Baby”.
Sam, of course knows this album just as well as Dean, having heard it more times than he can count on the Impala speakers. So he gets what Dean’s done by skipping the first song about betrayal and moving it to the one on this album side that’s about the more positive things that can happen in relationships. Sam holds his hand out towards him and Dean steps forward to take it. He pulls Dean back down to the bed, to nuzzle and hold and cuddle and all that stuff Dean would never admit to loving just as much if not more than the sex itself.
Dean relaxes into Sam’s embrace, feeling so comfortable on this new bed and in these familiar arms. The song plays on and as the lyric comes around that suits him, and says what’s always been truer than anything about how he feels about Sam, he sings it softly into Sam’s hair, “Oh, when you hear me... You know you're my one desire. Yes, you are.”
Hearing Dean sing those words to him makes Sam more emotional than he was even before, because he hasn’t heard anything like that from Dean in years. So he can’t stop himself before he whispers, “Me too Dean, always been that way, always will be.”