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Drabbles and Ficlets - a Collection

Chapter Text

More than anything, Sammy wants to help Dean feel better when he gets hurt. He doesn’t know how Dean gets hurt, and he doesn’t know why, but he knows that he doesn’t like it when his big brother’s in pain.

Dean sometimes gives him get-better kisses, like when he scrapes his knees on the pavement outside the motel, so that’s what Sammy starts doing, too- crawling into Dean’s lap whenever he comes home hurt and giving him little kisses over every scratch and every bruise, mumbling “get better, Deanie,” with every one.

It’s gotta be working, ‘cause Dean always smiles real big and hugs him after. Seeing all the hurt isn’t so bad once Sammy knows he can help.

Chapter Text

They’re lucky it’s warm, all the evening dew evaporated where they’re laying down near the car. Some field on the outskirts of town, far enough that they can’t even hear traffic. Can’t see much of anything unless they look up.

“And that’s the little brother, and the big brother.” Dean’s fingertips trace patterns in the stars, makes up their names as he goes. “See? They’re keeping each other safe.”

He feels Sam’s fingers curl loosely around those of his other hand, tangling together. His voice is soft. “Do they love each other?”

Dean turns his head, feels the way the grass tickles his cheek. Smiles a bit when he sees the look of awe on Sam’s face.

He can’t quite help it when he leans over, gives his brother a kiss on the cheek, just the slightest brush of lips.

“Yeah, Sammy.” He smiles, squeezes slim fingers gently. “They love each other a whole lot.”

Nights like this are few and far between, but it doesn’t mean they can’t appreciate them while they last.

Chapter Text

Dean tries not to think about his brother anymore.

When he remembers Sam, he doesn’t see too-long hair or dimples. Can’t think about his soccer games or drama performances, even avoids all those times that were just the two of them- the training, the rides in the car, the fireworks.

The stolen kisses are buried. The smiles that were just for him, the ones he could coax out no matter what, are hiding somewhere in the back of his mind, too painful to imagine.

“I met someone,” was the start of the conversation.

Phones are easier than visits, and Dean’d been so sure it would work. That they could have this, be happy. Keep each other.

It’s two years of distance, of lonely nights and growing apart, of too many monsters and not enough of his brother.

There’s “I love you,” and there’s “I can’t do this anymore,” and there’s a broken “please, Sammy, don’t-”

A dial tone becomes a death sentence, and two years of silence tears them in two.

Chapter Text

It’s in that space between dreams and the waking world when Sam hears it, feels the soft puff of air against the back of his neck as Dean speaks. They’re curled close, a hunt almost gone bad driving them back into old habits, and Sam thinks maybe he’s dreaming.

“I’m sorry,” he hears, quiet enough to convince himself he’s imagining it. “Shouldn’t have took you away.”

There’s a hand splayed protectively over his chest, the comforting warmth of Dean’s hand right over his heart. Sam wonders how attuned his brother is to his pulse. In the stillness of three in the morning, it seems like he could just steal it away all for himself.

Sam doesn’t think he’d mind. He belongs to Dean either way.

A brush of lips over his skin, under his ear. Sam fights a shiver.

“Could’ve been happy.” Dean’s mumbling again, barely audible. “Safe.”

A shaky breath, and Dean holds him a little tighter. “I’m sorry.”

Sam doesn’t open his eyes.

Chapter Text

The moon’s out, the breeze is warm, and Dean’s breath is coming short and fast, puffing out against Sam’s shoulder while he moves his hips. He’s straddling Sam’s thigh, fingers curled tight in the older man’s shirt for some kind of leverage, an anchor to keep him in the moment as the pleasure he’s feeling threatens to overtake him.

“Feels good, huh?” Sam’s voice is soft, and a big hand rubs down Dean’s back, urges him closer. His legs are hanging off the edge of the dock, and Dean’s secure on top of him, unconcerned about the water a few feet below. “Don’t press too hard, you’ve gotta take your time.”

Dean’s not really keen on slowing down right now, though, not when he can feel the tension building low in his belly, warm and undefinable. It just has him moving a little faster, panting as he chases the feeling.

Sam chuckles lowly, brushes his nose through Dean’s hair. His hand slides to Dean’s hip and grips it tight, helps with his movement. “Guess patience comes later.”

There’s a flush in Dean’s cheeks at the words, but they don’t discourage him, either. Sam’s hands sliding over his body, one sneaking up underneath his t-shirt just spur him on further, and with another couple thrusts of his hips he’s coming with a gasp, pressing his face into Sam’s shoulder while he ruins his shorts.

He barely registers Sam’s voice, murmuring soothing nonsense, or the hand stroking down his spine, making him try to press closer. “So beautiful,” he hears, barely a whisper.

Maybe it’s just experimenting now, but Dean’s intent on getting Sam to touch him properly next time. He’s still devising plans even as he’s scooped up in Sam’s arms, yawns as he’s carried back to his cabin.

“Remember, we’re up bright and early for breakfast, and then we’re hiking.” A kiss pressed to his forehead. “Night, kiddo.”

Sam slips away back towards where the counsellors sleep, and Dean’s left to clean himself up and crawl back into bed. Tomorrow, he decides. Tomorrow he’ll get Sam to touch him.

Chapter Text

The phone rings once, twice. Dean’s already getting impatient, ready to hang up and try again when someone finally picks up. He’s smiling, halfway to a hey, kiddo, when he hears a feminine voice on the other end, just slightly breathless.

“Hello? Sam’s place.”

It takes Dean a few seconds to put himself back together, to shove down the tiny stab of betrayal he feels before he can respond. “Uh, yeah. Hi. Is Sam there?”

“Sure, just hold on!”

There’s a pause, some shuffling on the other end, some muffled laughter that has Dean tightening his grip on his phone until it creaks in his hand. He doesn’t want to analyze the feeling in his chest, doesn’t want to give it more attention than it deserves, but the ache is insistent.

“Hey.” Sam’s breathless, too, and Dean’s got an uncomfortable feeling that he’s interrupted something. “Who’s this?”

“Just me.” Dean forces a smile into his voice, tries for the teasing tone that comes with being an older brother. “You busy? Should I call back later?”

Sam laughs, has the decency to sound sheepish. “Um… maybe?”

“Who’s the chick, anyway?” Dean’s pretty sure it sounds more casual than he feels saying.

“Jess. Jessica Moore.” Dean hears a giggle that, presumably, comes from Jessica. “I think you’d like her.”

That could mean any number of things, but Dean doesn’t want to think about any of them right now. “How ‘bout I call you back later, alright? I’ll try to catch you with your pants on next time.”

Sam should be embarrassed, Dean thinks, because that’s how his little brother would react, but there’s laughter on the other end. “Yeah, alright. Talk to you later, man.”

The phone clicks, but it takes a long moment for Dean to pull it away from his ear. There’s a numbness inside him that he’s not ready to address, jams his phone back in his pocket and goes to find a gun to clean.


Dean calls back a week later, some part of him convinced that he needs to give Sam lots of time to get Jessica out of his system. Everyone has needs- he knows that as well as anyone- but he sure as hell doesn’t want to hear it firsthand.

This time the phone only rings once, and Dean lets out a breath of relief just in time for a familiar, but unexpected voice answers, and he feels his stomach drop. “Hello?”

“Jessica.” Dean hopes he doesn’t sound as disappointed as he feels, tries to smooth it out. “Is, uh… is Sam there?”

“Not right now, he’s got class.” She sounds genuinely apologetic. “I can let him know you called, if you want? What’s your name?”

Dean can’t help it when he laughs, short and too bitter for his liking. “No, it’s fine. It’s… it’s okay.”

He hangs up before she gets the chance to respond, can’t make himself feel bad about it. It hurts in a way he’s never experienced, knowing that Sam’s got someone, now. That he’s been replaced.

Sam’s number stays in his contacts for the next two years, but Dean never dials it again. It’s the last he hears from Sam until their father goes missing.

Chapter Text

“You’re just getting too big for everything,” Dean tells his brother, matter-of-fact. “If the couch was too small, you should’ve said something, man. Can’t hunt if your back’s all messed up.”

At seventeen, Sam’s as stubborn as ever, and he makes a face, one that Dean identifies as “shut up, I’m moping.” He huffs and looks away. “I’m fine. Seriously. Just… I don’t know, we’ll share next time.”

Dean has no problem with sharing a bed with his brother- they’re usually careful about it while their dad’s in town, but even he’ll understand this issue- but it’s not exactly going to help them right now. Watching Sam try to move is enough to make Dean’s back ache in sympathy, and he sighs, rubs at the bridge of his nose. Tries to come up with some sort of compromise.

The idea comes to him a moment later, and he almost smacks himself for not thinking of it sooner. “Do you… well… I mean… I could give you a massage?”

Sam actually looks surprised at that, and he blinks a couple times. Nods slowly. “Um. Yeah, sure. I guess. If you want.”

There’s a bit of an awkward shuffle over to Dean’s bed- their bed, now, Dean decides- and Dean helps Sam out of his shirt, nudges him down to lie on his stomach. Straddles Sam’s lower back. “Tell me if I’m hurting you, okay?”

He starts with his hands on Sam’s shoulders, rubs into them slowly. Watches the way his brother starts to relax, lets out a tiny, contented sigh. “You always gonna do this if my back hurts?” Sam mumbles, and Dean smiles at how sleepy he sounds.

“Maybe. If you’re nice to me.” Leans down, presses a kiss to the back of Sam’s neck. “But you’re pretty good at that.”

A few more minutes, and Sam wiggles around under him. “Lemme out,” he demands, moving until Dean acquiesces and climbs off, lies down beside him. Sam moves in close and gives him a kiss. “My back’s better, now I just have to sleep. Think you can help me with that, too?”

Dean rolls his eyes. Smiles as he gathers Sam up in his arms. “You got it, little brother.”

Chapter Text

They’ve been searching for hours to find some kind of solution, but with no results and a looming deadline, Dean’s pretty sure they’re out of options. Pixie dust isn’t exactly common, and most people who encounter it either do as they’re made to or don’t live to tell the tale.

“Sammy.” Dean’s been staring at the same page for god knows how long. “We’re not gonna find another cure. We’re out of options.”

Sam’s quiet for a long moment, then Dean hears him move closer, knees bumping together under the table. “We’re pretty far out from town,” he says softly. “We’re gonna have to drive fast to find you someone on time.”

“No.” Dean’s been thinking about this since he got hit with the stuff in the first place, and he’s made his decision. “We’re not rushing into town. I’m not just- I don’t want to hunt down some random guy to fuck me.”

Sam winces in his peripherals. “You’re not just going to sit back and let this kill you,” he says urgently, but it sounds more like a plea than a command. “Just- let it happen, you can have like, fifty women after than and I won’t even-”

“I’m not gonna let it kill me.” Dean cuts him off, looks up to meet his brother’s eyes. “But I’m not gonna let some random dude do the honours.”

The confusion in Sam’s eyes clears into understanding. Dean wonders, sometimes, how much his brother thinks about what they used to have. Before Stanford, before Dad. Before everything got messy; back when it was just the two of them trying to survive. Dean knows it’s something he wants again, but whether or not Sam’s on board is a different question.

“Dean…” Sam reached out, hand trembling slightly, cups Dean’s cheek. Dean lets his eyes slip shut as he leans into it. “Are you sure?”

He opens his eyes again. Nods once. “You’re the only one I trust to do this.” Pauses. Swallows hard. “I missed you,” he whispers, and without waiting another moment, leans forward to press their lips together.

Whatever was intended with the curse he’s under, he doubts it was to rekindle what he used to have with his brother.

Chapter Text

It’s in that sweet spot between hunts, the rare days when they’ve actually got some time off, that Dean’s actually taking the time to enjoy his shower for once, not worried about hurrying up to make sure no one dies while he’s shampooing his hair. He has the luxury of taking it easy, and that attitude stays with him when he gets out, scrubs his hair semi-dry and wraps a towel around his waist before wandering back out to the motel’s main room.

Sam’s on his bed, looks like he’s reading- as usual- so Dean rolls his eyes and heads straight to his bag. It only takes a moment before he feels his brother’s eyes on him, and he grins to himself. Decides to be a bit of a tease.

It’s a bizarre thought to have when his little brother’s the one on the receiving end, but their relationship was never really normal to begin with. If Sam’s going to stare, then Dean’s going to make it worth his time, no matter how wrong it might seem to anyone else.

He takes his time, bends over at their waist and hums to himself as he digs through his bag. He’s in no rush, and Sam’s gaze is like a physical sensation, makes him smile to himself. Dean’s in a good mood today, and it makes him want to push this. See how far they can go, test the boundaries of their relationship. Without straightening up or looking at his brother, he speaks.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” His tone is casual, but he can imagine to way Sam stiffens. Caught red-handed. Dean smiles, straightens up slowly with a pair of boxers in hand before glancing over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I know I’m a fine piece of ass, but there’s other fish in the sea, you know?”

Sam looks ashamed, but it slowly morphs into something else. Something wondering, curious. “Doesn’t seem to bother you much,” he points out, sets his book aside before sitting up. Takes his time giving Dean a sweeping once-over. “I’m starting to think you just like showing off.”

“Oh?” Dean raises his eyebrows, fights a grin. This should be interesting. “How’s that?”

“Looks to me like you’re acting as slutty as possible at every opportunity.” Sam tilts his head a little, and the words are a challenge. “When I’m around, anyways. You put on a show like this for all your family?”

Dean huffs a surprised laugh and drops his boxers back in the bag. “You askin’ if I do this for Dad, too?” He steps closer, smiles slowly. “Would that make you jealous, Sammy?”

Sam’s eyes darken, and Dean fights a shiver. “I know you don’t do this for Dad.” He licks his lips, eyes roaming up and down again, and it’s a struggle to stay still. “I think you do it for me just because you want to see it affect me. You want to see how far you can push.”

It’s always a little amazing to Dean how well they know each other, and he smiles a bit. “Yeah? I haven’t hit any walls yet, so I think I might just keep going.”

Sam’s smile grows slowly into something that’s damn near predatory. “Take off your towel,” he murmurs, and that actually takes Dean by surprise.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Sam’s voice leaves no room for argument. “Take. It. Off.”

It would take a stronger man than Dean to resist an order like that, and he doesn’t break their eye contact while he tugs the knot out, lets the towel drop to the floor, pooling at his feet. “That all for tonight?”

“No.” Sam jerks his chin for Dean to come closer. “I want to show you what happens when you spend all your time being a teasing little slut.”

Dean doesn’t try to hide his grin, crawls onto the bed right into Sam’s lap without hesitation. “You gonna spank me, little brother?” he nearly purrs.

There’s enough amusement in Sam’s eyes that the smack to his ass comes as a surprise, has him letting out a little yelp. “That’s the plan. You’re gonna be counting, or I’m gonna start again. We’ll start with ten.”

Maybe it’s not the most normal way to start a relationship, but they were never really normal to begin with.

Chapter Text

“Sammy.” Dean’s fighting to keep his voice steady, feels like his heart’s breaking a little more with every shirt Sam shoves into his bag. The five feet between them feels like a hundred miles, and he feels like he wouldn’t be able to cross it if he tried.

“Don’t.” Sam’s voice is soft, and he doesn’t look up from what he’s doing. “I can’t stay here, Dean. I just… I can’t do it anymore.” He lets out a bitter laugh, fists tight in a shirt that Dean recognizes as his own. “Even if I wanted to say, you seriously think Dad would let me?”

Dean hates to admit it to himself, but Sam’s probably got a point. It’s not hard to imagine that if he hadn’t been there to intervene, his dad and brother would’ve started throwing punches. As it is, he’s not sure they’re ever going to recover from such a violent argument. Why their dad’s so opposed to Sam going off to school, he isn’t sure, but Sam had been far from pleased.

“I can talk to him,” he tries, regardless. “Just- Sam, please. You don’t have to do this, we can- we can figure something out, okay?”

Sam finally stops his rushed packing, leans heavily on the edge of the bed. “Like what?” His voice is soft. Defeated.

Dean opens his mouth, but… he doesn’t know what to say. He knows Sam wants to go to Stanford, and he knows that nothing he says is going to make him stay behind, change his mind. Him and Dad are too volatile, and at the rate they’re going, any more time spent together is just going to tear them apart even more.

Sam glances over, smiles sadly. “Yeah,” he murmurs. Pauses to zip up his bag after stuffing a couple more things inside. “That’s what I thought. My bus leaves in twenty minutes.”

“Let me drive you?” It’s the last thing Dean can think of, the only bit of salvation he’ll be able to get before his brother is lost to him.

Sam doesn’t hesitate before he’s nodding. “Yeah.” He clears his throat, sounds a little choked up. “Sure, Dean.” He grabs his bag, pulls the strap over his shoulder. Bites his lip. “Let’s go, I guess.”

Dean nods, can’t quite meet his brother’s eyes before he turns and leads the way out. At least Dad left the car, he thinks, and leads the way over. Opens the passenger’s side door for Sam before circling around to the driver’s seat.

The way to the bus stop is quiet, but at some point, Sam reaches over and grabs his hand. Threads their fingers together. Dean doesn’t let go.

They’re pulling up too soon, and Dean’s still scrambling for something to say. Anything that’ll stop his brother from leaving like this, from abandoning him. The only thing that comes out is barely a whisper. “Please don’t leave.”

Sam’s hand tightens in his, and before he knows what’s happening, Sam’s leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It lingers for a few long moments, and Dean brings his other hand up to cup his brother’s cheek. Closes his eyes like it’ll make this last longer.

Their lips part too soon, and Dean opens his eyes again slowly. He’s not surprised when his brother reaches up, brushes a tear off his cheek.

“I’ll call you when I get to California, okay?” Sam pulls away, and Dean feels like he’s taking a chunk of his soul along with him. “Be careful.”

“Always am.” Dean needs to take a deep breath before he can continue. “You, too.”

Sam opens the door. Hesitates, glances back towards him. “Love you.” It’s barely a whisper.

Dean feels like his heart’s just about shattered now, manages to choke out a response. “Love you, Sammy.”

Then Sam’s gone, and the bus leaves, and Dean doesn’t move for a very long time.

Chapter Text

“Have you lost your damn mind!?”

Dean can’t quite close his mouth, jaw hanging open as he stares in disbelief. The thing’s got to be as thick around as his forearm, not to mention just as long. He’s pretty sure it’s got a better chance of killing him than most of the monsters he’s fought in the past.

There’s still excitement in Sam’s eyes, though, and an increasing amount of amusement. “C’mon, it’s not that big,” he insists, shifts the dildo to his other hand. Dean imagines it’s because the thing’s too damn heavy to hold very long. “A lot of lube, a lot of prep, and we’ll be good to go.”

Dean’s still shaking his head, trying to picture the thing fitting inside literally any part of his body. “You’re buying me so much pie for this, man.”

A laugh, and Sam nudges him down on the bed. “I’ll make it fit, don’t worry. You take me just fine, don’t you?”

Dean just barely refrains from pointing out that while Sam may be hung like a horse, he’s pretty sure this dildo is inspired by an actual, literal horse’s dick.

“God, you’re crazy.”

“You love it.”

Chapter Text

This is for Sam, Dean reminds himself firmly. It’s been too long since he’s seen his brother, and Dad refuses to let him take the car for what he considers borderline treason, so short of hitch-hiking to California, Dean isn’t left with a lot of options.

It doesn’t make him any less shaky as he boards the plane, gives the flight attendant who greets him a suspicious look as she smiles sweetly and directs him to his seat. He’s not far from the emergency exit hatch, at least, which is mildly comforting.

There’s already a guy in the seat beside his, hunched over his phone, beanie pulled down over his ears. There’s something familiar about him that Dean can’t quite place until he takes his seat carefully, doing up his seatbelt as soon as he’s settled.

When the guy beside him looks up, Dean blinks. Wonders if he passed out from fear and is having some kind of hallucinatory dream.


The guy frowns, looks a little affronted. “What?”

Upon closer inspection, Dean relaxes a little bit. The guy clearly isn’t his brother; he’s more clean-cut, a slightly different build. Can’t seem to let go of his phone. “Uh, sorry. You look a lot like my little brother.”

The guy raises his eyebrow. “Don’t get that one a lot. Jared. Not Sam.”


The short exchange is a distraction until the engines start up, and then Dean’s looking for something else to focus on. Finds his eyes on Jared’s phone, where he’s still furiously typing despite the attendants giving him disapproving looks.

“What’re you doing?”

Jared pauses, glances up. “Tweeting,” he says simply. “They screwed me over in the luggage claim, and they’re going to hear about it whether they like it or not.”

Dean blinks. “Uh. Alright.”

Jared pauses then, looks him over. Must notice the white-knuckled grip he has on the arm rests. “Scared of flying?”

“No.” A pause. “Maybe. It’s a metal tube of death being flung through the sky.”

Jared laughs, then, and seems to lighten a little. “Then why are you here?”

Dean shrugs. “My brother’s down in California. I’m going to visit him.” The plane lifts off the ground and Dean presses himself back into the seat. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“No one likes planes.” Jared looks a little amused, now, and settles back in his seat, apparently at ease. “Airplanes suck. Airlines suck.”

Dean makes a face and nods. “Agreed.”

Sam so owes him for this.

Chapter Text

“I’m… I’m supposed to wake up.”

Sam keeps his eyes squeezed shut, hard as possible like it’ll be enough to prompt that goddamn song to start again. But it’s not a motel room he sees when he opens his eyes, not his brother lacing up his boots with a grin on his face.

Dean is heavy in his arms, blood slowly soaking through his shirt, and his heart stopped beating two minutes ago.

(Two minutes and thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six-)

“No.” Sam can barely force it out, shifts Dean in his arms. Hates the way his brother (his brother’s body, cooling and empty and still fucking bleeding) doesn’t offer any resistance. He gets Dean up against his chest, supports him with his own body, brings a hand up to cup his cheek.

“This isn’t how it works,” he whispers, as if Dean’s still listening, still trying to solve all his problems for him (Dean’s going to Hell, oh god, he’s going to Hell).

Sam can’t breathe when it hits him all over again. He gets the sense that this is never really going to sink in.

“No, Dean,” he mumbles, hefts Dean up a little more until his brother’s head is tucked under his chin (and god, isn’t it strange to be the one doing the holding instead of being held?). “You can’t do this. You don’t get to do this. It hasn’t even been a whole fucking year!”

He’s nearly shouting by the end. Can’t make himself care. Tightens his arms around his brother and presses his face into soft hair, feels tears slipping free.

“We were supposed to have more time.” So much more fucking time. Time to save Dean, time to fix things. Time to be the hero for once instead of letting his big brother slip away from him.

When he speaks again, it’s barely a whimper. A plea. To Dean’s body, Hell, heaven, God, he doesn’t care. Doesn’t know what else he can do when he feels like that little kid who just learned that monsters were real.

“I can’t do this without you.”

As Dean offers no response, Sam comes to the shattering conclusion that he has no other choice.

The Trickster is his first target. If all else fails, Sam knows he won’t hesitate to join his brother.

Death can’t be feared when you’ve lost everything you were living for in the first place.

Chapter Text

“Honey, I’m home!”

It’s such a cliché that Dean can’t even be annoyed, just rolls his eyes and glances over his shoulder. It’s become a bit of an inside joke with them, anyways, adds to the sheer absurdity of the lives they’re living now.

The image is completed by Sam entering the kitchen; he’s loosening off his tie, smiles wide at Dean and moves in for a quick kiss. “Smells good in here,” he murmurs, settles his hands on Dean’s hips and plays with the strings on his apron. His brother loves the ‘kiss the chef’ joke to a ridiculous degree and takes every opportunity to do just that. “What’s cooking?”

“Fajitas.” Dean smiles, bumps his nose against Sam’s cheek before turning back to the stove to check on the food. “Even got the organic veggies, since you asked so nicely.”

Sam laughs, and Dean figures he’s remembering just how nice he was to earn this. “You’re the best.”

“I know.” Dean shoves some vegetables around, makes sure they’re all simmering evenly. “Work okay?”

“The usual.” Sam sits down at the table like he does when he just wants to watch Dean work. “Making progress on the Phillips case, though.”

“Nice.” Dean glances back to give his brother a proud smile. “You kick that guy’s ass, babe.”

Sam snorts at the name, shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Dean turns down the heat on the stove and heads over to Sam, plops himself down in his brother’s lap and wraps his arms around his neck. “You love it.”

“Love you,” Sam corrects, smiles and leans in for a kiss. “Mostly 'cause you’re pretty and a good cook.”

“Love you, too.” Dean winks, nips at Sam’s bottom lip. “Mostly because you’ve got a huge dick.”

Sam laughs, and they hold each other for a while, and dinner passes easily. It might not be the life Dean envisioned for them when they started considering retiring from hunting, but it’s sure as hell working for him.

Chapter Text

“Dude, you never leave me any water!” Dean insists, gesturing aggressively. “All your damn primping leaves me with an ice bath every morning unless I wake up at the crack of dawn, and you know that’s not happening!”

Sam rolls his eyes. Gives Dean a vaguely annoyed look. “I’m not even in there that long. Not my fault motel water heaters are tiny.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Dean demands, scowls at his brother and crosses his arms across his chest. “I’m not freezing to death, and I’m not waking up before sunrise.”

A beat, and then Sam clears his throat. “We could always just share.”

That takes Dean a moment to process. They haven’t bathed together since they were children, but… it’s not like they don’t live in each other’s pockets, anyways. He’s long since lost count (not that he was ever counting in the first place) of how many times he’s walked in on his brother changing or vice-versa. Showering together shouldn’t be a big deal. Especially not if it means he’ll get his hot water

A shrug, and Dean makes eye contact with Sam, almost a challenge. “Fine.”

Sam meets his gaze evenly. “I guess I’ll have to wait for you to get your lazy ass out of bed tomorrow, huh?”

That earns an eye roll and a grumbled “bitch” as Dean turns to go change into something to sleep in.

The “jerk” he gets in response makes him smile.


“Look, this… it shouldn’t be hard,” Sam says. They’re both standing in their boxers, shifting a little in place in their tiny bathroom. “We’ll just have to be up in each other’s space a bit.”

Dean figures he can handle that. “Ladies first,” he says simply, reaches out to turn on the water. He could almost cry when he feels the temperature, hot and soothing.

There’s a rustle of fabric, and Sam nudges pat him, naked now and stepping into the shower. Dean’s not far behind, and soon they’re wedged together, managing to make it work without any important bits getting somewhere they shouldn’t be.

It’s a little tricky to get the hang of it, but soon enough they’re both going about their own business. There’s a “pass the shampoo” and “you missed a spot” and somehow it turns into “can you get my back for me?”

Dean takes his time scrubbing soap into Sam’s skin and tries to convince himself he doesn’t enjoy it.

It’s harder to pretend that Sam massaging shampoo into his hair doesn’t make him a little weak in the knees.

By the time they finish, personal space is a non-issue. There’s some kind of silent understanding between them, even as they step out and Dean grabs them both a towel.

They don’t talk about it, but Sam doesn’t need to be told to wait for Dean the next time he takes a shower.

Chapter Text

Sam knows he should know to knock by now, especially after a night out with his brother roaming the town on his own, but maybe he just doesn’t learn. Maybe a part of him takes a guilty pleasure in catching his brother with his pants down (literally).

Maybe the uneasy feeling in his gut demands that he find Dean immediately and make sure he’s okay.

If Sam’s ever picked a time to be grateful for that near sixth-sense he has when it comes to his brother, it’s now.

After years of accidental walk-ins and living in extremely close quarters, Sam knows more or less what to expect when he sees Dean enjoying himself. The sounds he makes, the facial expressions, the way he arches his spine so goddamn pretty.

When Sam pushes the door open and sees the guy on top of his brother, alarm bells are going off in his head before he even registers the tears on Dean’s cheeks.

He doesn’t think. Doesn’t stop to see the bruising grip the guy’s got on Dean’s wrists, the aggravated sound he makes when he looks over his shoulder. Sam’s across the room in three long steps, grabs him by the hair and yanks him back.

Sam’s voice is soft. Dangerous. “Get the fuck off of my brother.”

The guy looks like he’s going to try to fight for a moment, but once he actually gets a good look at Sam, he seems to abandon that idea. He stumbles off Dean, yanks on a pair of boxers.

Sam thinks the guy might have some sense of survival instinct right up until he pauses to take a long look at Dean, who’s taken on the expression of a deer in headlights, and Sam sees red.

There’s a moment where he feels nothing, but then he’s standing over the guy, fist aching, and watching as the man underneath him clutches at his nose.

“If you so much as look at him ever again, I will track you down and make sure you can never look at anything for the rest of your life.” Sam gives the guy a kick in the ribs for good measure, relishes in the groan he lets out. “Get the fuck out.”

A moment later, some hurried stumbling, and a slammed door, and Sam’s left alone with his big brother.

As soon as the guy’s gone, Sam’s anger evaporates, leaving only concern. He turns to Dean, hesitates before crawling half onto the bed. Shifts some blankets around so his brother’s covered up properly.

“Dean?” His voice is gentle as he searches Dean’s face anxiously. Finally takes in the bruises forming on his skin. He reaches out to brush a tear off Dean’s cheek with his fingertips, hates the way Dean half-flinches. “Hey, it’s just me. Sammy.”

“Sammy.” Dean takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. “Thought I told you to knock?”

“Once or twice.” Sam shifts, carefully lies down alongside his brother. “Didn’t feel like it. Are you okay?”

Dean shrugs, and it’s not exactly a surprise. If Sam knows anything about his brother, it’s that he’ll sooner die than admit he’s hurting. “M'good. Douchebag of the day was rougher than promised.”

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. “I noticed.” Still gentle, he turns on his side, lays an arm across Dean’s waist. Can’t help a tiny smile when he feels his brother relax against him. “You could’ve kicked his ass.”

“Wasn’t really in the best position to reach it.” Dean snorts, presses in a little closer. “Besides, I’ve got you to swoop in and save the day, right? My scary, possessive little brother.”

That makes Sam blush a little. Wonders if that’s how he comes off. “I’m not possessive.”

“I take it that’s why you didn’t bother knocking before busting in here and throwing that guy out?”

Sam pauses to consider that. “Maybe a little possessive.” He hugs Dean a bit tighter, closes his eyes. “You’re my brother, y'know. No one else’s. And I’m not gonna let people hurt you.”

“I know.” Dean seems content with the fact. A little sleepy. “Always count on you, kiddo.”

They’re quiet after that, and Sam feels Dean fall asleep within a few minutes. He makes a note to walk in without warning more often, if this is where it’ll land him. Better than anyone else touching Dean. That much, at least, he knows for sure.

Chapter Text

“Sam, come on,” Dean tries to insist, even as he stumbles along after his brother. Sam’s got a tight hold on his arm, just short of being painful, and he’s being halfway dragged out of the bar. “We’ve still got people to talk to!”

“We’re going.” Sam’s voice leaves no room for argument, and Dean doesn’t bother trying to resist. He’s not all that keen on hanging around, anyways. The guys at the pool table had been getting handsy, as if their leering and lewd comments weren’t bad enough. He wonders idly how they’d have reacted to learning he’s only nineteen. Doubts it would’ve stopped them.

They’re outside soon enough, and Sam’s grip on his arm loosens only for Dean to be hauled in close, an arm tight around his waist. There’s a press of lips to his temple, and he lets himself relax. Sam isn’t going to let anything happen to him.

The walk back to the motel passes quick, and soon enough Dean’s being herded inside, door locked and salted behind them. He’s not surprised when Sam crowds in close, big hands coming up to cup his face.

“Did they hurt you?” It’s a demand, but a gentle one, thumbs stroking over Dean’s cheekbones tenderly. “Did they touch you?”

“No, and yes.” Dean sighs, lets his eyes slip shut as he leans into Sam’s affection. “I’m okay. Really. Promise. I can handle a couple perverts every now and then.” It doesn’t mean it’s easy to deal with all the comments about his goddamn lips, but he needs to set Sam’s mind at ease.

Of course, words are never really enough for that. Sam manhandles Dean to the nearest bed, stripping him down like he’s a little kid again who needs help changing into his pyjamas. Dean doesn’t offer any resistance; he knows his brother needs this sometimes.

He’s more than happy to let Sam lay him down, to curl in close and nuzzle into his neck. Sam sighs softly, and Dean feels strong arms curl around him, hold him tight.

“Hate when people touch you,” Sam mumbles into Dean’s hair. Dean busies himself sliding a hand over Sam’s chest, tracing senseless patterns with his fingertips. “Can’t stand it.”

“I know.” Dean’s brother has a protective streak a mild wide, one that toes the line of possessiveness more often than not. He can’t quite bring himself to find fault with that.

“Not gonna let anyone hurt you, Dean.” A kiss pressed into his hair, and Dean feels Sam’s arm tighten around him. “Not ever.”

Dean yawns and snuggles closer. Sam’s warmth is making him sleepy. It’s not like they’ve got anything to do right now, anyways. “M'kay. Love you.”

A sigh, and another gentle kiss. “Yeah. Love you, too, little brother.”

Dean might not enjoy getting hit on by creeps, but he sure does love the way his big brother tends to react.

Chapter Text

The silence that comes after Sam watches his little brother hit the floor with the force of a blow is deafening, and he briefly forgets how to function. Can’t quite process what’s going on in front of him. But no, that’s definitely his dad- their dad- standing over Dean, breathing hard. Glancing between his two sons, a challenge in his eyes.

Sam wonders, somewhere in the part of his mind that isn’t being rapidly consumed with protective rage, if the man has any desire to keep living at all.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Sam’s voice is soft as he takes a step forward, and he’s trembling slightly. Feels like the feeling growing inside him is too big to contain, too primal.

“Sammy, it’s- he didn’t-” Dean trying to stutter out some kind of half-formed defence, and Sam’s hearty aches. He wants so badly just to grab his brother and leave, but that’s not going to be enough.

John doesn’t look like he regrets anything, and it just pisses Sam off more. “If the kid doesn’t know how to dodge a punch, he’s not gonna make it very far.”

“Right, so punching him out of the blue is the best way to teach that?” Sam steps closer, and he can feel the anger seeping into his core not, fuelling him. Encouraging him. “He’s a fucking kid, Dad!”

“I’m not a kid,” Dean protests, even though he’s all of fourteen. Sam ignores him.

“That’s not gonna stop anyone else.” John raises his head high. “Why the fuck should it stop me?”

A long pause as Sam fights for some semblance of control. “Dean?” he says softly. Doesn’t take his eyes off of their father. “Go wait in the car.” When his brother doesn’t move immediately, he pulls the keys out of his pocket, holds them out on one finger. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Dean still seems hesitant, but he gets up off the floor, hurries to Sam’s side.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Freezes at John’s voice.

The blind obedience coupled with the fear in Dean’s eyes is the last straw. Sam shoves the keys into his brother’s hand. Breathes out a soft “now, Dean.” Doesn’t wait to see if he listens.

There’s no hesitation in Sam’s movements when he strides forward, closes the distance between himself and John, and hits him as hard as he can, hears a crunch when his fist meets delicate cartilage.

He figures it’s mostly surprise that’s given him the advantage here, and doesn’t let it go to waste. When John staggers backwards, swearing and clutching his face, Sam strikes again, ignores the sound of confused shock that Dean makes behind him. Hits his father in the ribs this time, hooks a hook behind his legs to force him to the ground.

“If you ever,” Sam says softly, “touch my brother again, I am going to end you. He’s not your fucking wind-up toy, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve the shit you give him.” A pause to glance at his brother. “We’re leaving. Don’t try to call.”

It takes a moment to grab their respective bags, and Sam doesn’t spare their father another glance. He wraps an arm around Dean and gently leads him outside, goes straight to the car.

It’s not until they’ve made it out of the parking lot, Dean tucked up against Sam’s side with his head nudged up under Sam’s chin, that Dean actually speaks, just quietly. “Where are we going?”

“California.” Sam gives his little brother a squeeze, holds him close. “We’re gonna find something better than this, kiddo. Promise.”

Chapter Text

Dean’s never been made especially aware of just how strong his big brother is until he finds himself pinned a wall, legs wrapped tight around Sam’s waist while Sam goes to work on his neck, sucking and biting to his heart’s content. It’s a little startling, the shift from the caring older brother to such an aggressive lover, but Dean isn’t about to complain.

“Feels good, huh?” Sam murmurs into his skin. The grip on his hips tightens, and Dean lets out a soft moan, presses as close as he’s able. “Want me to touch you, baby boy?”

Dean nods without hesitation, presses his face into his brother’s hair. “Please,” he breathes, hugs Sam a little tighter. “Need you.”

Dean can feel the smile against his skin, and another little nip. “You’ve got me.”

He’s lifted off the wall, and then they’re moving towards the bed. It makes him wonder how far they’re going to go, how far Sam intends to take this.

Whatever the answer is, Dean can’t even bring himself to be nervous. Sam’s the one person who makes him feel safe no matter what, and this situation is no different.

Sam lays him down and crawls up along Dean’s body, smiles as he hovers over him. Seems to hesitate for a moment before he speaks, soft and careful.

“Dean, baby…” A hand cupping the side of his face, and Dean leans into it happily, closes his eyes. “I want to fuck you. But only if that’s something you want, too.”

Dean opens his eyes with surprise, doesn’t know how to respond for a moment. “Won’t that… isn’t that supposed to hurt?” he asks slowly, unsure.

Sam shakes his head quickly, threads his fingers through Dean’s hair. “No. No, not if I’m careful. And I will be. You know I’m never gonna hurt you, right?”

This time, Dean doesn’t hesitate. “I know.” He leans up, presses a small kiss to Sam’s lips. Bites his lip as he considers. “You’ll go slow?”

“‘Course.” Sam nods. “Could even get you to ride me so you set the pace yourself. I won’t hurt you, Dean. And if you wanna stop, we will.”

Dean feels like it’s all a given, in hindsight, and he nods again. Settles back. “Okay,” he agrees, then, nuzzling into Sam’s hand. “Alright, Sammy.”

Because maybe this isn’t something he’s familiar with, but he trusts his big brother to a fault. If there’s any one truth in Dean’s life, it’s that as long as Sam’s around, he’s going to be just fine.

The fingers go in easy, and Sam distracts him the whole time with kisses, soft praise and love bites that Dean can feel purpling his skin. Knowing that Sam’s marks are going to linger is more than enough to keep Dean interested, and Sam seems to know exactly how to twist and press his fingers to get Dean to cry out and writhe against him.

When it’s finally the head of Sam’s cock pressed up against his entrance, Dean isn’t worried anymore. He settles himself in Sam’s lap and holds him tight as they lower him down together, and Dean thinks he’s never felt as complete as he does with his brother inside him.

It’s fast and rough once they get going, Sam’s hands spanning Dean’s hips and gripping tight enough to leave marks. Dean’s breathing hard, face buried in Sam’s neck, and when he comes, he comes hard, cries out as he spills between them. Sam’s not far behind, and Dean feels him tense up, holds on tight while they keep rocking together.

Dean’s still a little dazed from his orgasm when Sam lays them down and cleans them up with a discarded shirt. He comes to more of an attentive state when his brother status peppering kisses over his face, and he’s distinctly reminded of all the times Sam’s tried to count his freckles.

“You okay?” Sam’s voice is soft, but there’s just enough concern in it that Dean knows he’s being serious.

Dean yawns and nods once, snuggles closer. “M'good,” he murmurs. “Really good.” A pause, and he gives Sam a tiny kiss. “Love you.”

Sam smiles, kisses him in return. “Love you, baby brother.”

He’s gathered into Sam’s arms and falls asleep soon to the soothing sound of his brother’s heartbeat. It’s one of the few constants he has, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Chapter Text

None of this is Sam’s fault. Dean’s worried that his brother’s not going to understand that.

They’re here again, tangled up on the bed. It’s become almost routine now; Dean’s just preparing himself to slide down his brother’s body and take Sam’s cock into his mouth when he’s stopped short, Sam’s hands gripping tight at his hips. Sam’s the one moving, now, hands sliding down to stroke over Dean’s thighs and gently urging him to spread his legs.

Dean freezes up. Tries to catch his breath even as he’s resisting Sam’s movement. “Sam- Sammy, no. Please.”

Sam stops immediately, furrows his brow. Looks worried, and that’s definitely not what Dean wants right now. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Dean’s answer comes out too fast, sounds rushed and desperate. “I’m okay, just- I just…”

There’s a long moment of silence, then Sam leans in close, bringing Dean flush against his chest. Dean closes his eyes, braces himself for reasons he can’t identify.

“Dean.” Sam’s voice is gentle, but there’s a hint of firmness to it. He’s not about to let this go. “Look, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but… can you just tell me what the problem is? So I can avoid it?”

It sounds reasonable enough, but Dean can’t help but feel anxious. It feels stupid, the fear swirling in his gut, but he can’t seem to make it dissipate through sheer willpower. The little brother part of him quietly hopes that Sam can make it better, and it’s what ultimately drives him to responding as he does.

“It hurts, right?” He shifts in place, looks away from his brother. Doesn’t think he can meet Sam’s eyes right now. “I don’t want to hurt.”

There’s a quick succession of expressions that flit over Sam’s face. Confusion, understanding, concern. The tiniest hint of anger, and Dean’s more than a little worried about that.

“Who told you that?” Sam asks, brings a hand up to cup Dean’s cheek. “Or where’d you hear it?”

Dean shifts uncomfortably, but makes no attempt to pull away from his brother. “No one had to tell me,” he mumbles, fixing his eyes on Sam’s collarbones.


“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Sam’s voice is soft, but Dean can hear pat it. The slight tremble that betrays how angry this is making his brother.

“It’s- nothing, never mind.” It doesn’t matter, anyways. Sam doesn’t need to know, right? Dean starts pulling away, tries to wiggle out of Sam’s hold. “Sorry.”

“Wait, Dean-” Sam’s grip tightens slightly, and Dean can’t avoid looking back at his brother. Sees the concern that’s replaced every other expression. “Sorry, I didn’t… I’m not mad at you, baby. Promise. I just-” He pauses, swallows hard. “What did you mean?”

Dean looks away. Tries to relax, focuses on Sam’s breathing. “Tried it,” he manages eventually. “Hurts.”

There’s something in the moment Sam takes to answer that tells Dean his brother is far from happy with that.

“It doesn’t have to hurt.” Sam’s lips brush against Dean’s forehead in a kiss. “It shouldn’t. Not if you do it right.” Another kiss, this time to the tip of his nose. “Take your time.”

It only takes a moment for Dean to think it through all the way. To remember how much Sam loves him. Everything Sam’s done to keep him safe. All the reasons he has to never, ever be scared of his big brother.

“Could we try it?” Dean hates how tentative he sounds, clears his throat. “Like- like you were saying?”

A smile, and this time the kiss is pressed right to Dean’s lips. “We can do whatever you want, kiddo.”

As long as Sam’s with him, Dean thinks as his brother moves to kiss the insides of his thighs, nothing bad is ever going to happen. Not ever again.

Chapter Text

“You’ll come back, right?” Dean’s eyes are a little wide, and he isn’t sure when he reached out, but he’s got the hem of Sam’s shirt tight in his fists. Can’t quite bear to let go. “You’ll visit?”

“Yeah, of course.” Sam’s smiling, reaches up to ruffle Dean’s hair. “You think I could go four whole years without my annoying little brother?”

Dean huffs, makes a face. “Shut up. Annoying you is my job.” He can’t help himself anymore; between one second and the next, he’s got his arms thrown tight around Sam’s waist, tucks himself in close. Sam’s been growing and hasn’t stopped, so Dean’s head only comes up as high as his chest. “Don’t forget about me, okay? Even if you become some bigshot lawyer. Don’t forget the little people.”

“Little people, huh?” There’s laughter in Sam’s voice even as his arms wind tight around Dean to return the hug. “You’re one of the littlest people I know. Promise I won’t forget you, though.”

Dean gives Sam’s chest a half-hearted smack, and it seems to hit him all over again that his brother’s leaving. Running off to college, abandoning the family, according to their dad. Dean tries not to think about it that way. It hurts enough without adding insult to injury.

Sam’s lips brush against the top of Dean’s head before he glances up. “Looks like they’re loading the bus,” he says, and there’s something that almost sounds like regret in his voice. “I’ve got to get going, kiddo.”

Dean takes in a shuddering breath and tries to pull away. “M'gonna miss you, you big nerd,” he mumbles, hopes he doesn’t look as dejected as he feels.

A sigh, and Sam gives him one last tight squeeze before letting go. “I’ll miss you, too. Blanket-hogging and all. I’ll call you when I get there, okay?” He smiles, but there’s something sad about it. “Be good for Dad.”

Somehow, that’s the last straw. The words don’t mesh with the way Sam fights with their father, and Dean’s eyes burn with the threat of tears. “I will,” he manages. “Bye, Sammy.”

The bus is gone within twenty minutes, and Dean’s left rooted to the ground, feeling like his heart just packed a bag and left him for good.

Chapter Text

Dean doesn’t even wait until Sam gets his mouth open to say hello. He’s already throwing himself into his brother’s arms, clinging to him like he’s a little kid all over again instead of a legal adult.

“You didn’t say you were coming,” he breathes, but there’s no irritation in his voice. Can’t imagine ever being bothered by his big brother visiting him.

He can feel Sam smiling into his hair. Snuggles closer. “What, I’m not allowed to surprise my baby brother?”

Sam moves them inside and kicks the door shut. Heads straight towards the couch to plop down with Dean curled up in his lap.

“You still eating and stuff?” Dean feels a hand running over his ribs and can’t help but squirm at the ticklish feeling. “You look skinny.”

“You said that when I left, too.” Dean rolls his eyes. Hesitates before asking. “How long can you stay?”

He peeks up, and can’t help but be surprised when he realizes Sam is smiling again, bigger than before. “I’m here for the whole week,” he replies, and sounds almost smug.

Dean’s smile is the most genuine he’s had since the last time his brother was around, and he bounces a little in place. “You can come to class with me,” he enthuses. “I bet you’d like a lot of it, Sammy. All those big brains you’ve got.”

Sam laughs and hugs Dean close again, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “I’ll go wherever you want me to,” he says simply. “I’m all yours.”

That, Dean thinks, is exactly how it should be.

Chapter Text

“Hey, have you seen the…? Oh.”

Dean pauses what he’s doing and glances up as best he’s able, still suckling idly on Sam’s cock where it’s settled in his mouth. Castiel stands at the entrance to the kitchen, looking a little bewildered at the scene before him.

“Oh, uh.” Sam sounds embarrassed, and Dean rolls his eyes, pulling off with a pop. “Sorry. We… got distracted.”

Castiel nods slowly, eyes darting between Sam’s face and Dean where he’s still kneeling on the floor. “Right. Um. I’ll just…”

With that, he turns and walks away, a little faster than usual, and Dean finds himself snickering.

Sam looks down and raises an eyebrow. Smooths his fingers through Dean’s hair. “What?”

“Maybe we should’ve picked somewhere more private.” In hindsight, the middle of the kitchen wasn’t really a good spot to start this when the bunker has other inhabitants. Dean decides he doesn’t care, though, because everywhere else was definitely too far away, and Sam’s dick definitely needed to be sucked.

Sam shrugs. Grins. “He didn’t even tell us what he was looking for. And you’re not done.”

Dean just rolls his eyes, parts his lips, and goes right back to work.

Chapter Text

There’s something wrong with this picture, Sam’s sure. Dean’s half-asleep, which is normal, and has apparently decided that he doesn’t want to use his own bed, which is common. The pieces come together when he notices the abandoned boxers on the floor.

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Dean peeks one eye open, then seems to remember something as he sits up suddenly. Seems to try to compose himself. “Yeah. I’m seducing you.”

Sam blinks once. Twice. “Um.”

He doesn’t get a chance to say much more than that as Dean waves him over insistently. If nothing else, his little brother’s always been stubborn once he’s fixed himself on something. “Come on, you need to be over here for it. Don’t be a party pooper.”

The words sound a little ridiculous, given what’s apparently about to happen, but Sam obeys, regardless. He’s gotten this far by not questioning a lot of what goes on in Dean’s mind. At the end of the day, as long as his brother’s happy, nothing else really matters.

“Sit,” Dean orders, waving his hand at the bed in front of him. He looks almost absurdly excited, and Sam mostly just thinks it’s adorable. Once he’s seated, Dean finally slides out from under the covers.

It’s far from the first time he’s seen his brother naked, but he’s never going to get tired of it. Lets his eyes roam over soft, freckled skin without shame.

Dean climbs right into his lap and grins, settling in close. “Hi.”

“You sure you don’t want to go to bed?” Sam asks, fighting a smile. “You looked sleepy.”

“Only ‘cause you took forever in the shower.” Dean lifts a hand to pet Sam’s hair. “I guess it was worth it. You smell nice.”

With that, he leans in and presses their lips together, and Sam’s not much concerned with anything else for a while except his little brother.

Chapter Text

“What’s truth or dare?” is the first thing out of Sam’s mouth when Dean shows up to walk him home from school. His eyes are wide and a little curious, and Dean tries not to focus on the warmth it stirs in his chest. “The kids at school were talkin’ about it.”

“A game.” Dean shrugs, pausing to grab Sam’s hand before they cross the street. He’s getting bigger, but he’s still little enough that Dean needs to keep him safe. “Girls like to play it at sleepovers and stuff, mostly.”

Sam seems to consider that very seriously for the rest of their walk back. Why he’s so fixated on it, Dean isn’t sure, but then, the inner workings of twelve-year-olds has never been his speciality.

It’s not until they get back to the motel that Sam asks what is, apparently, a very important question. “Teach me how to play?”

Dean raises an eyebrow at the request- he’s sure Sam could learn from one of his classmates- but nods. “Yeah, sure. C'mon, let’s sit.”

Sam nods eagerly and grabs a spot on one of the beds, kicking off his shoes before folding his legs under him. Dean joins a moment later, can’t help a smile at how eager his brother looks.

“Okay, I can go first. Truth or dare?” he asks. “You have to pick one.”

There’s clearly some serious thought happening before Sam nods to himself. “Truth.”

Dean hums, takes a moment to think. “You like anyone at school?” It’s a cliché, and the first question that pops out, and he finds himself holding his breath, nervous about the answer.

There’s no hesitation before Sam shakes his head, and Dean relaxes minutely. “Nope. Not really. My turn?”

“Yeah, guess so.” Dean shrugs and tries to ignore the surprisingly calculating look in Sam’s eyes. “Go for it.”

“Truth or dare?” Sam’s leaning forward, almost vibrating with excitement.


Sam’s face lights up, and he moves a fraction of an inch closer. Speaks softly.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

And as odd as it should be, Dean’s just thankful he’s finally got an excuse.

He leans in and cups his brother’s cheek, guiding Sam into the kiss and letting out a soft sigh as their lips meet.

It’s not until later that he learns Sam had known exactly what truth or dare was. He can’t bring himself to be even remotely annoyed.

Chapter Text

After living together for a few months, Jensen’s definitely gotten used to a lot of Jared’s habits. Leaving the toothpaste out, doing laundry in his boxers, eating like a goddamn stable full of horses. He’s learned more about his co-star than he ever could have hoped, and their relationship is as strong as ever.

But even still, as well as he knows Jared, he has no explanation for what he sees when he walks into his bedroom that evening, stopping short at the door.

“Jared,” he says slowly, taking in the image in front of him. He wonders briefly if he got really, really high and forgot about it. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

They’ve been dancing around each other for a while now, in more ways than one. There’ve been moments they don’t talk about, but this is crossing all sorts of lines that have been in place before. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel, really.

Jared smiles, apparently having the decency to look sheepish. Shifts around a little in place. Jensen pointedly avoids looking down, and succeeds for all of five seconds. It’s hard not to. “Look, we’ve been… avoiding a lot of stuff, I think, so I thought maybe we could just figure it out? One way or the other?” He waits for Jensen to nod before continuing. “So, I mean, I know this is weird, but- uh. I guess… if I’m reading this totally wrong, you can walk away and we can pretend this didn’t happen. I’ll even wash your sheets.”

Jensen has to smile at that bit. “Alright. What’s the other option?”

Jared smiles again, too, looks tentatively hopeful. “You close that door, take your clothes off, and come over here to talk this out.”

“Your definition of talking seems pretty loose.” Jensen laughs, then shrugs. “But you know what?” He closes the door. Undoes the top button on his shirt. “I can live with that.”

Jared’s smile turns into a full-blown grin, and the tension is gone.

Jensen might have known a lot about Jared, his roommate and co-star, but he’s sure as hell looking forward to meeting Jared, his boyfriend.

Chapter Text

Dean’s breathing hard even as he stumbles into the motel, leaning heavily into his brother for support. He feels winded, enough that the gash on his forehead and the blood dripping down from it, tastes the iron on his tongue. It’s been twenty minutes, at least, since a particularly violent spirit had thrown him into a headstone, but he was still feeling the effects.

Sam gets him to the bed, sets him down carefully before taking a deep breath, running a hand over his face. “Have you lost your damn mind?!” he demands, then, winces like it came out harsher than it was supposed to. “I just- god, Dean, why did you do that?”

Dean shrugs. Reaches up to brush his fingertips over the wound. “It was going for you from behind. I distracted it.”

Sam moves to grab a first aid kit, crouches in front of Dean on the floor as he starts pulling things out. “Doesn’t mean you have to throw yourself directly in the line of fire,” he murmurs. The disinfectant comes out and he starts cleaning the wound gently as Dean does his best to stay still. “You could’ve been killed.”

“Could be killed any day.” Dean shrugs, closes his eyes while Sam tends to him. “S'just part of the job.”

“No,” Sam says sharply, and his movements stop. “Don’t say that. God, just- don’t.”

A moment of silence, and he continues. Dean stays still and quiet, lets Sam bandage him up. He has a feeling it’s helping a little.

When they’re done and the medical supplies are out of the way, Dean pulls his brother down into bed with him, wrapping his arms around Sam and pressing close. “I’m not going anywhere, Sammy,” he says softly. Closes his eyes as his brother snuggles closer. “Not anytime soon, okay?”

There’s a small brush of lips against his jaw, and a soft sigh. “Yeah,” Sam murmurs. “Alright.”

It might not be much, but for right now, it’s the best they can do.

Chapter Text

“The paint’s supposed to go where?” Sam asks, sounding incredulous.

All things considered, Dean can’t really blame him.

It’d seemed like something that would be interesting to try, when he’d seen it in some sex shop he’d wanted to check out. He was always up for trying new things in the bedroom, and a human-sized canvas seemed like it would be fun.

He hadn’t really thought out his pitch before buying the thing and presenting it to his brother, though.

“On us,” Dean explains, watching as Sam scrutinizes the paint the kit had provided them. “And then we do our thing, and it goes onto the paper, and we’ve got ourselves some kind of interpretative painting of us fucking. That’s artsy, right? Seems like something Van Gogh or someone would do?”“

Sam laughs that time, and Dean counts it as a win. "Not sure he was having kinky sex with his brother, but sure.” He pauses, looks at the paint again. “So… we’re really doing this?”

Dean nods once, grins. “Yeah. Sounds like fun, right? Make ourselves a little keepsake.”

Another laugh, and Sam puts the paint down in order to step closer, hands sliding onto Dean’s hips. “As long as you’re going to be on it…” He squeezes Dean’s ass, grins. “I guess that’s okay.”

It’s enough for Dean, and he grins as he twists the red paint open. No one ever said he wasn’t creative.

Chapter Text

Sam bites his lip, still fiddling with his phone. He’s been terrified to pick it up, to listen to the messages he knows Dean’s been leaving. He knows his brother probably hates him now for abandoning the family. For the fight they had when he’d left.

But three months without hearing his big brother’s voice is too damn long, and eventually, he opens his voice mail.

There are seven messages from Dean, and they get longer near the middle. The first few are check-ups, the ones immediately after get more emotional. He can hear the defeat starting to creep into Dean’s voice with each one.

The last is the one that breaks him.

“I’m sorry.” Dean’s quiet, and it sounds wrong. “I- fuck, this is stupid. You don’t need me anymore, right? I get it, it’s fine.” A long pause, and a shaky breath. “Just… be careful, okay? I- I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Sam saves all of them, then closes his eyes and hits his first speed dial. Holds his breath.

Dean picks up on the third ring.


For the first time since he got on that bus, Sam finally feels okay again.

Chapter Text

“Day off?” Jared blinks a couple times. “Wait, seriously? You’re not making that up?”

“Nope.” Jensen shrugs. “Apparently it’s all Dean and Cas scenes tomorrow, so you can just take it easy. Stay home. Get some sleep or whatever.”

Season four’s been rough for the brothers, and logically, it makes sense that their shooting schedules might not line up as much… but Jared hates the idea of staying home when Jensen’s going to be on set.

“So… just you and Misha, huh?” He makes a face, rolls his shoulders a bit. “That should be fun.”

Maybe he sounded a little too bitter about that, because Jensen raises his eyebrows. Sounds surprised when he speaks. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

Jared blinks, and opens his mouth to deny it- but then, he’s never been very good at lying to Jensen.


That earns him an eye roll and a heavy sigh. “Dude, come on. He probably won’t even make it to season five. Let him have his time with the real star of the show.”

Jared can’t help but smile at that, and he elbows Jensen. “I don’t know, man. My name appears first in the credits, so…”

Just like that, the tension is dissipated. If Jared happens to show up on his day off for the sake of bugging his best friend, it’s probably just a coincidence.

Chapter Text

Dean isn’t using his right hand.

He’s been fumbling things all day, trying to work their case left-handed, and Sam’s worried. His brother is far from clumsy, and based on his history of hiding injuries for the sake of pretending he’s okay, there’s something going on that Sam needs to know about.

He doesn’t waste any time once they get back to the room for the night, closing the door before turning to his brother, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Take off your shirt.”

Dean pauses, gives him an odd look. He’s got every right, too; things have been off since Stanford, and their relationship has been rocky in every way. They’ve messed around once or twice, but it’s not something they talk about. “Excuse me?”

But this is important, Sam reminds himself. It needs to be done. So he squares his stance and steadies his voice.

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Dean stares at him for a long moment before nodding slowly. Reaches down- with just his left hand, Sam notices- and starts tugging his shirt up. Sam moves closer to get a closer look, and can’t help a surprised gasp when he sees Dean’s shoulder.

There’s deep bruising and a rough-looking scrape, something that makes Sam ache just looking at it. He suddenly remembers Dean getting thrown around during their work last night, but he’d acted completely fine afterwards.

“What the hell happened?” he breathed. “Jesus, Dean, why didn’t you tell me?”

Dean shrugs his good shoulder and won’t meet Sam’s eyes. “Didn’t want you to worry,” he mumbles. “Not a big deal, seriously.”

“Bullshit.” Sam guides Dean to sit down and starts fussing over the wound, digging up a cold compress and some disinfectant. “Just- look, you gotta tell me when you’re hurt, okay?”

He doesn’t think about it before leaning in to press a feather-light kiss to the wound. Dean’s breath hitches, and Sam bites his lip as he sits back.

“I just want you to be okay.”

Dean stays quiet, but he doesn’t protest as Sam patches him up. They end up curling up together that night for bed, Sam’s arms wrapped tight and protective around his brother.

Chapter Text

“Sounds like there’s a shifter thing up north.” Dean makes a face at his phone before shoving it in his pocket again, making sure he has everything he’d brought with him on the way. “Dad wants me to be there… well, yesterday, so I should get going.”

Sam swallows hard. Looks away and shifts on his feet. “Do you have to?” he asks softly. “I mean- he hunted on his own for a long time, right? He should be fine.”

“You know that’s not safe.” Dean gives his brother a slightly concerned look. “Are you okay? I mean- you’re good here. You have everything you need.”

“I don’t have you.” Sam says it in a rush, and it takes him a moment to get the next bit out, barely a whisper. “Please, don’t leave.”

Dean’s heart clenches, and he has to look away. “I’m sorry, kiddo,” he says softly. “You know he needs me out there. I just-”

“I need you, too,” Sam insists, moving in closer. His fingers curl around Dean’s wrists. “I can’t do this without you, Dean. Please.”

Dean steels himself, then gently pulls himself free from Sam’s grip. “I’ll call, okay?” he says. “Just- I need to go. I’ll visit again soon. Promise.”

Walking away, though, it doesn’t really feel like the words are much consolation for either of them.

Chapter Text

Sam feels like he’s dreaming. This can’t be real, after all. Dean’s invincible; a car crash couldn’t have done this to him. It can’t really be his big brother lying in the hospital bed, not asleep, but as far from awake as it gets without actually being dead.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he murmurs, more to himself than his brother. “This is nothing, right? You’ve had worse.” He remembers the faith healer and swallows hard. “I can fix you. I’ll find a way.”

There’s no response except for the steady beeping of the machines, and Sam finds himself taking one of Dean’s hands, holding it tight between both of his own. He tries not to think about how cool Dean’s skin feels.

“You can’t do this, okay?” Sam squeezes Dean’s hand a little tighter. “You’re gonna wake up. You did last time, right? You…” He chokes up, needs a moment to gather himself. Barely whispers as he continues. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

Dad, the demon, hunting… hell, Sam doesn’t think he’d be able to go on without his brother, end of story. There are two ways this can go, and he intends to stay with Dean no matter what happens.

The machines keep beeping, and Dean doesn’t respond. Sam wonders, sort of distantly in the back of his mind, how the barrel of a gun would taste.

Chapter Text

“Look, we need to talk,” Sam says, and Dean glances up from the newspaper he’s been leafing through. “Can we- I don’t know. Can you come here?”

It’s odd behaviour for his brother, Dean knows, so he’s a little concerned as he heads over to the bed, sits on the edge of it where Sam’s gesturing. He waits patiently, watches Sam and waits. Wonders what this is about.

“Dean…” Sam sighs, scrubs a hand down his face. “Do you like any girls at school?”

The question catches Dean off-guard, and it takes him a moment to respond, opening and closing his mouth a couple times. “I- I mean, sure. I guess.”

Sam doesn’t look like he believes that. “How about guys?”

That’s more of a surprise still- not that he doesn’t trust his brother, but that’s one thing Dean hasn’t talked to Sam about much- and he doesn’t know what to say. “What are- I mean…”

Sam looks exhausted, suddenly, and Dean stops trying to speak. Doesn’t know what he’d say, anyways. Sam’s next words steal the breath from his lungs, though, so he doubts he’d have been able to, regardless.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

Dean’s been hit pretty hard throughout his time hunting, but this is different. Feels like his heart isn’t beating right, like his blood’s turned to ice and his lungs have stopped working altogether.

Sam’s face softens a little bit, and Dean wonders how bad he must look. “Dean- look, it’s… it’s normal, okay? I mean, we’re together all the time, and there’s not a lot of other people who are… constant, I guess. It makes sense that you’d…” He falters. Needs a moment to continue. “Latch on. In whatever way.”

Dean’s shaking his head. Feels sick. It’s every worst-case come to life, and he almost wishes Sam would yell at him. Kick him out, hit him, something besides his soft voice, his gentle eyes.

He wishes he could hate his brother. Doesn’t think it’s possible.

“You’re still young,” Sam’s saying, and it’s infuriatingly gentle. “You’ll get over it, okay? It’s probably just… part of growing up, right?”

Dean can’t listen to any more. He doesn’t so much as look at Sam as he stands up, walks past his brother. Takes the keys to the car and nothing else.

He shouldn’t feel like this. He’s a freak, and Sam’s just too goddamn nice to tell him that. Dean hates that even this is just making his heart flutter, making him want his brother more.

He doesn’t see the way Sam slumps down heavily as soon as he closes the door.

Chapter Text

Dean’s face is throbbing, and he’s brought one hand up to cradle his throat protectively. He can still feel where Sam’s fingers had curled tight around it, tried to force all the life out of him. He thinks maybe the fact that Sam did it at all hurts more than the actual beating did.

Sam is gone. So damn far gone, and Dean doesn’t know what to do anymore. Ruby’s got him hooked in more ways than one, and Dean just aches.

“Please.” He’s not sure how he gets the word out- it’s barely a whisper of a breath, and his voice is raspy- but it stops Sam in place where he’d been heading to the door, stepping over debris from their fight. “Please, don’t go.”

For a long moment, Sam doesn’t move. Dean wonders if maybe he didn’t hear him properly.

“I have to.” Sam’s still facing away, but there’s no missing those words. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t follow me.” A hesitation, and Dean watches Sam go white-knuckled as he clenches his fists. “Just- god, Dean, let me do this. Please.”

That’s the last thing he says before leaving the room. Dean’s left to slump against the floor, mind swirling with everything he’s done wrong.

Chapter Text

“Come on,” Dean mutters, pressing the button for the twelfth floor insistently. “Johnson isn’t going to wait to start that meeting.”

There’s one other person with him in the elevator, and Dean realizes a moment later that he looks familiar. “I don’t think that’s going to do anything.”

Dean makes a face as he looks over, and that’s when he makes the connection. “Wesson,” he realizes. “You came and fixed my computer a couple weeks ago, right?”

“Sam’s fine, but yeah.” The guy- Sam- shrugs. “It’s not gonna work. These elevators are shit. I mean…” He glances at the panel with the dead lights. “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while.”

Dean sighs and rubs at his forehead, turns to lean against one of the walls. “Fine. Whatever.” He’s going to be late for his meeting- if he makes it at all- but it isn’t his fault, right? He can’t get in trouble for this.

“Dean Smith, right?” Dean glances up at his name and nods once. “Well… we might as well kill some time, right?”

Dean considers that. Wonders if the implications behind it were actually intended, because Sam’s a good-looking guy and Dean’s been too damn busy to have any fun lately.

“Right.” He takes half a step forward, testing the waters. Seeing how Sam reacts.

His response is to move forward, backing Dean into the wall he just left. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” There’s a moment while Sam gives him a once-over, and Dean can feel it like a physical thing. “Could’ve fixed your computer in fifteen minutes, but it was the only time I ever got to see you.”

Dean can’t help a surprised laugh. “And here I just thought I was lucky you weren’t good at your job.”

Maybe Sam just wants to shut him up when he presses their lips together hard and fast, but either way, Dean’ll take it.

Chapter Text

Jared takes a shaky breath as he shuts the door behind them, rubbing at his face. Doesn’t so much as look at Jensen before moving towards the couch.

There are good days and bad days, but this one’s been one of the worst. They’re nearing the season finale, and emotions have been running high both on screen and off. Jensen hates seeing the toll it’s taking on Jared. Doesn’t know what he can do to help.

Living together is the one leg up he has, because it means he’s got a chance of helping. He doesn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t have the extra time together.

He follows Jared to the couch, watches with concern as he sits down before joining him, moving in close to rub Jared’s shoulders a bit. Hopes to help him relax.

“Hey, I’m with you, okay?” Jensen speaks softly, reaches up to brush Jared’s hair out of his face. “Let’s just take it easy tonight, yeah?”

The sigh doesn’t give him much, but Jared leans into his side. Jensen wraps an arm around him and holds him close.

They can take this one step at a time for however long they need.

Chapter Text

“I mean, I guess Ms. Carlson isn’t that bad.” Dean seems to consider that before shrugging. “Like, sure, she doesn’t really know shit about physics, but at least she’s got a nice ass, right?”

Sam can’t pinpoint the day that Dean Winchester started sitting with him in their shared spare period. Dean was the sort of person who seemed like he should’ve spent his free time hooking up with girls or smoking out back, certainly not hanging out with someone like him.

Sam considered himself pretty shy, and tended to keep to himself. But it was hard not to talk when Dean was around, if only because the guy basically never shut up and demanded a lot of attention.

“But you’ve got Bloomington, so I guess he isn’t bad.” Dean’s still talking. “He definitely doesn’t have a nice ass, though. It’s probably all saggy and pale under his pants.”

Sam can’t help himself, the corners of his lips twitching upwards even as he tries to hide behind his textbook. He’s starting to like Dean a whole lot, recently, and his teasing just makes it better.

There’s a pause, and when Sam glances up over the top of his book, Dean’s grinning madly. “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you just crack a smile for me?”

Sam feels his cheeks heat up and tries to hide behind his book again. He hears Dean laugh, and feels a hand ruffling his hair. “You’re too cute, kid.”

He could definitely get used to having Dean around more often.

Chapter Text

Dean’s been giving him bedroom eyes for the last five miles, complete with parted lips and legs that are spread a little too wide to be an accident. It’s starting to get incredibly distracting, and Sam’s voice is tight when he speaks.

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

Apparently, that’s exactly the invitation Dean’s been waiting for.

He doesn’t even hesitate before shifting his position, leaning down across the two seats until his head’s in Sam’s lap. Looks up to grin at him. “Who said anything about a bed?”

It’s far from the first time his little brother has insisted on giving him road head, so Sam’s only response is to shift his legs apart and tighten his grip on the wheel. He’s going to need all the concentration he can get.

Dean pulls down Sam’s fly with his teeth. It’s going to be a long drive.

Chapter Text

He feels like he’s still in shock, completely convinced that he’s imagined the last several hours of his life. There’s no way that Sam got on that bus, and there’s no way he’s alone in bed- not when his brother should be curled up at his side, hogging the blankets and keeping him warm.

But this isn’t his imagination, and if their last fight had been of any indication, he’s never going to see his little brother again. Sam’s going to be happy at Stanford, chasing his dream and living the normal life.

Dean closes his eyes and tries to ignore the deep ache in his chest.

Chapter Text

It shouldn’t be a big deal, Dean’s sure- just one kiss, just to get it out of his system.

Castiel doesn’t look so sure, but he’s nodding slowly a moment later. “If you insist.”

He’s the one to close the distance between them- the guy’s never been much for personal space, anyways- but Dean’s the one who leans in close.

As soon as their lips meet, though, Dean knows that he’s not going to be able to give this up.

Chapter Text

“That doesn’t mean I want you to just… abandon me,” Sam whispers.

Dean can’t help the bitter tone in his voice when he responds. “You’re the one who walked away.”

He can’t do this whole long-distance thing, can’t keep holding Sam back. His brother could be so much more than the rest of them, and Dean isn’t going to take that away for the sake of his own happiness.

Chapter Text

“Dean.” Sam’s voice is sharp, but Dean doesn’t look up. Stubbornly keeps flipping through their dad’s journal. He’s not really reading anymore, just using it as an excuse not to look at Sam. “You’re being ridiculous. Just- we’ll both do the work, okay? But you can’t just run off and go drink instead of helping.” A deep breath. “So just pick up a book and start reading. We have work to do.”

Dean still keeps his head down. Turns a page and fiddles with the corner of it. “Come over here and make me.”

He’s not sure why he’s fixed himself on this path. Maybe he’s a little stir-crazy from working this case for nearly two weeks without results. Maybe he just wants to break the tension growing between them. Mostly, he thinks he just wants to piss his older brother off.

There’s silence for a moment, but then the chair creaks as Sam stands and heads over. Sits down beside Dean and pats his lap.

“Across my knee. Face-down. You want to pull your pants down, or should I?”

That genuinely catches Dean off-guard, and he stops. Slowly looks up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Sam is unrelenting, and his tone leaves no room for negotiation. “Pants.”

There’s no question as to what’s about to happen if Dean goes along with this. He sets the journal down and moves to undo his fly. This is far from the first time he’s been punished like this.

Sam bends Dean over his knee once the jeans and boxers have been shoved down far enough. Dean shivers as his brother’s breath ghosts over the back of his neck.

“Ten. Count for me.”

The first slap always comes as a surprise, but Dean does as he’s told. He doesn’t lose count, and he doesn’t fight; he starts letting out little moans with each one about halfway through, and by the end of it, he’s got tears in his eyes and a hard-on pressed against Sam’s leg.

“All done, huh?” Sam’s hand smooths over his ass, and Dean presses closer, moaning softly. “You were a good boy for me, weren’t you?”

Dean nods instead of saying anything, sniffles a bit. Sam turns him over until he can lean down and press a couple kisses to his cheeks.

“Love you.” Sam reaches down, then, fingers closing around Dean’s cock. It barely takes a moment before he comes, arches up with it and presses close into Sam.

His brother holds him for the whole thing. Helps him clean up and makes sure he’s okay.

Next time, Dean starts the research all on his own.

Chapter Text

“Then what did you mean?” Sam demands, voice a little shaky. “Does humanity even matter to you, Dean? Any of the world at all?”

“Yeah, it does matter,” Dean replies, stepping closer to close the space between himself and his brother. His voice is soft as he finishes, reaches up to cup Sam’s cheek. “It’s just that you matter more.”

Chapter Text

As Dean wakes up to the sound of his brother having a nightmare, he takes a moment to hate that it’s become such a common occurrence. After the cage, and thanks to the whole stint with the hallucinations, Sam hasn’t exactly slept well, and it’s been taking its toll.

Dean rolls out of his bed and moves towards Sam’s, carefully leans one knee into the mattress. Cups Sam’s face between his hands.

“Sammy,” he says, keeps his voice soft but unwavering. “C'mon, buddy, just a dream. Come back to me.”

It takes a few seconds, but then Sam’s gasping awake, eyes wide, a little pale. Once their eyes meet, some of the tension seems to melt out of him, and he closes his eyes.

Dean shifts onto the bed more completely and pulls his brother closer, getting Sam situated to lie down half in his lap. He doesn’t fit as well as he used to, but that doesn’t matter.

“Just a dream,"he murmurs again, starting to rub Sam’s back. "This is what’s real, okay? Just you and me, kiddo.”

“I just want it to end,” Sam mumbles, voice muffled against Dean’s leg. “Can’t do this.”

“Hey.” Dean pauses what he’s doing and moves to tilt Sam’s head up towards him. “I’m with you, okay? Always. No matter what happens, I’ll be there to back you. We’ll figure this out.”

There’s a moment when Sam’s searching his face, but then he nods. Curls in closer. “Stay with me?”

Dean just nods once and moves to lie down with his brother. They both sleep better after that.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean you can’t get it out?” Sam demands, craning his neck to try to get a better look at where his brother’s situated between his legs. “What did you do?”

“Um… put it in too far?” Dean replies sheepishly. “It doesn’t hurt, right? I mean, maybe it’ll come out on its own.” A pause, and then- “or maybe you’ll just have a butt plug in you forever. I’m not a doctor, so I won’t make that call.”

Chapter Text

“What cookie?” Dean asks around a mouthful of the cookie that definitely did not belong to his brother.

Sam groans and gestures towards Dean’s face. “The one you’re eating literally right now. As we speak.”

Dean flashes him a cookie-filled grin and swallows the crumbs in his mouth.

Chapter Text

“Shh, big brother,” Sam’s whispering, because his hands are occupied holding Dean’s hips in place and he can’t afford to cover Dean’s mouth right now. “You don’t want Bobby to catch us, do you?”

And Dean’s trying, he’s trying so damn hard, but every time Sam snaps his hips forward, he’s letting out little gasps, moans and whimpers that he can’t quite stifle. Sam’s not really helping, either; his brother’s mouth is on the back of his neck, nipping and sucking and getting all those little spots that drive him insane.

Sam knows. Sam knows exactly what he’s doing. He has to.

When Sam shifts one hand to curl around Dean’s cock, Dean finally just resorts to pressing his face into the sheets, pants hard against them and gives up breathing for the sake of secrecy.

Down the hall, Bobby pulls another pillow over his head and grumbles about how goddamn thin the walls are.

Chapter Text

It’s always been harsh with them. Heavy breathing, rough hands, no mercy when they’re moving together, flesh meeting flesh. There’s no time for gentle, no time for going slow. It’s all desperate hunger and aching need.

It’s Sam biting down hard on the crook of Dean’s neck while Dean nearly howls with it, arches up for more. Eyes black like obsidian, the golden-green long forgotten in the heat between them.

It’s bruises on hips, on thighs, on wrists, because Sam doesn’t hold back, can’t see any need to. All he knows is his own pleasure and the fact that Dean is the one who gets him there. The fact that Dean doesn’t really feel pain anymore.

It’s that first taste of Dean’s blood that brings it all rushing back, that dizzying power. It’s learning how it feels to be whole again, even without a soul.

There’s nothing tender about their relationship, nothing loving. But neither of them need that, and neither of them want it, either.

Chapter Text

Sam’s hand doesn’t feel quite the same way his brother’s always did. He has longer fingers, and they’re softer, not as rough with callouses as Dean’s were from the guns and knives he grew up handling. It’s hard to get the illusion just right, as a result, but he manages.

It’s easy to remember Dean’s mouth. The way he’s smile or part his lips or press them against every inch of Sam’s skin. His breath hitches just thinking about it, how Dean would suck bruises into his throat while his hand worked at Sam’s cock.

Sam moves his hand faster. Pants hard, tries to fool himself into thinking this is more than it is.

It’s Dean’s hands, Dean’s voice, Dean’s whispered “come for me, baby brother,” that Sam’s thinking of when he finally reaches that peak, comes with a choked gasp. Dean’s name on his lips among soft moans that are too damn close to sobs.

Maybe he’s playing pretend, but it’s a lot better when he pretends he hasn’t really left it all behind.

Chapter Text

There’s something odd about Sam Winchester, Brady’s sure. A whole slew of things, for that matter, but it’s always the way he seems to be sneaking around that really makes it obvious.

For a little while, he’s convinced Sam’s got a secret girlfriend. They get along pretty well, so Brady teases him- “just leave a sock on the door, I won’t come in”- but that doesn’t seem to put Sam at ease.

The continued reluctance makes him think that maybe it’s a guy. Brady likes to think he’s pretty open-minded, so he gives that a shot, too. Casually mentions a friend of his who’s going on three years with his boyfriend. Sam just gives him an odd look and moves on.

Sam’s not exactly an open book, so eventually, Brady figures he’ll never learn the big secret. Maybe Sam just likes his privacy, and Brady’s just imagining how he sometimes seems a little rushed, a little paranoid when Brady comes home early.

At least, until one evening when Brady comes home two whole hours early thanks to a cancelled psychology lab. There’s no sock on the door, so he just heads straight in. Stops dead when he sees the two guys tangled up in Sam’s bed.

One of the guys, upon closer inspection, is Sam. The other one looks a little older, shorter, cropped hair and freckles. Pink lips and green eyes. He looks vaguely familiar, and maybe Brady doesn’t swing that way, but he definitely can’t blame Sam for it in that moment.

“Uh.” Except that Sam looks like he’s blaming Brady for a whole lot of things right then as he shifts to block the other guy from view. “You… class?”

“Cancelled.” Brady clears his throat, smiles awkwardly as he backs towards the door. “Sorry. Uh… see you in a few hours?”

Sam doesn’t respond before Brady’s stepping out, and that seems like the end of it.

It’s only later that Brady realizes where he’d recognized the guy from. Sam doesn’t have a whole lot of photos around, but the one he seems to hold most precious is the one of himself and someone named Dean. Sam’s older brother.

It’s easier to just forget the whole thing ever happened.

Chapter Text

Everything’s good. Jessica is soft and warm at his side, head pillowed on his chest. Hell, she probably doesn’t even think about it when she peeks up at him. Smiles and gives him a peck on the chin before saying goodnight. Even then, it takes a few long seconds for the words to sink in.

“Night, Sammy.”

It shouldn’t be strange, he thinks- some of his friends have called him Sammy as a joke, to annoy him, whatever- but it’s the last piece to a puzzle he hadn’t even realized was being fit together, and everything stops feeling real.

It was her eyes, he remembers. Jessica’s pretty green eyes, sparkling with laughter. They were the first thing he noticed, and in hindsight, it’s only been downhill from there.

She’s got his smile, too. His laugh. Hell, his sense of humour. Sam feels dizzy as everything starts piling up, starts making sense. Wonders if anything about their relationship has been real.

Plush lips and blonde hair, a playful attitude and enough confidence for them both.

Somehow, it’s never occurred to Sam that he’s been dating his big brother for the past eleven months.

Jessica’s fast asleep against him, and even her heartbeat sounds the same. He thinks distantly that if she only had freckles, her and Dean would be damn near identical but for their genders.

He almost cries when he remembers that they have the same birthday.

He doesn’t bother trying to convince himself it’s a coincidence. Not when everything he knows and loves about Jessica is directly reflected in what he loves about Dean.

Sam doesn’t sleep that night, he can’t look his girlfriend in the eye for several days, and he sure as hell doesn’t so much as think about picking up the phone.

Chapter Text


Dean’s got a big smile on his face as he runs into the house, barely stops to kick off his shoes before heading the rest of the way inside. He turns the first corner, takes a moment to peek into the kitchen to make sure his stepdad isn’t there before moving on to his office. He knocks like he’s been taught, waits for the amused-sounding “come on in, Dean” before opening the door.

Sam’s been with Dean’s mom for more than a year now, and Dean’s long since adapted to it. He doesn’t hesitate to hurry over, climbing up into Sam’s lap where he’s sitting in the rolling chair he sometimes lets Dean ride around in. Strong arms wrap around him right away, and he cuddles in close, making a happy sound.

“Good day?” Sam sounds happy, Dean thinks, and he nods, peeks up as Sam looks down. “You get your test back?”

Dean smiles again and nods, takes a moment to dig the paper out of his pocket, meticulously folded, and carefully smooths it out. There’s a big sticker right on the front beside the A+, and he offers it over proudly.

Sam makes a show of putting his reading glasses on, clears his throat and furrows his brow as he squints at the page. Dean covers his mouth to stifle a giggle, leaning up to peek at the paper like he’s making sure it still says what it’s supposed to.

“An A+, huh?” Sam looks down again, seems to be considering something. “You worked pretty hard on this, didn’t you?”

It’s a report on the life cycle of a frog, and Dean nods sagely. He’s spent hours pouring over books to make sure he got every detail right, and even got Sam to help him with the drawings. He’s more than happy with the final product, and he’s waiting anxiously for his stepdad’s approval.

“You know what?” Sam finally smiles again, and Dean wiggles in place, curls his fingers in Sam’s shirt. “I think you deserve a reward.”

It’s exactly the response Dean’s been waiting for, and he can’t help the way he beams. Already, he’s stretching up a little bit, excited. “Kisses?”

“Yeah, baby.” Sam’s smile is a little softer now, and he leans down to press his lips to Dean’s forehead first. “Kisses.”

Sam takes his time, moving across his cheeks and over his nose, laughing when Dean squirms from the ticklish feeling. Dean has a sneaking suspicion that his stepdad is trying to kiss every single one of his freckles by the time he finally presses his lips to Dean’s, gentle and smiling.

Dean makes a happy sound and presses up into it, closing his eyes. He loves when they kiss like this, the butterflies it puts in his tummy and the warmth it causes in his chest.

“You’re such a good boy,” Sam murmurs against his lips, finally pulls away. Dean settles against his chest, warm and content as a wide palm starts rubbing circles in his back. “Your mom won’t be home for a while. Want to watch a movie?”

Dean doesn’t hesitate to nod, peeking up at Sam again. “Okay, Daddy.” There’s nothing else he wants more at the moment, anyways.

Chapter Text

It takes some effort for Dean to reach out, but Sam’s hand is just close enough for him to tangle their fingers together. The blood smeared across his cheek is sticky when he turns his head, manages a bit of a smile at his brother.

“Was gonna happen sooner or later,” he murmurs, words a little slurred. “S'how is is with us, right? Always doin’ dangerous shit.”

Sam doesn’t respond. His hand is limp and his eyes aren’t quite closed, but there’s no light behind the hazel anymore. Dean wishes he could close them, could convince himself his little brother’s just asleep.

He looks away after a moment. Turns his gaze skyward, tries to count the stars through the treetops. Better here than some shitty warehouse, at least.

“How it’s s'posed to be, though.” He squeezes Sam’s hand, pretends not to notice the lack of a reaction. “You and me. Together ‘til the end, right, kiddo?”

Dean can feel his pulse slowing. It should be concerning, but mostly he’s just waiting for it to be over. Heaven or Hell, he doesn’t care, just so long as Sam’s there with him.

He lets his eyes slip shut as he takes his last breaths. Wonders if he’ll wake up to fireworks this time.

“Love you, little brother.”

Chapter Text

“I haven’t been with anyone else!” Dean insists, shoulders stiff and defensive. “Not since we got together. C’mon, Sam, you know that.”

The accusations are still ringing in the air, Sam’s chest heaving after all the shouting he did. But he still looks hurt, and Dean thinks that maybe that’s the worst part of all this- that his brother really thinks he would do something like this.

“Yeah, right.” Sam looks away sharply, jaw clenching. “I should’ve known. Always thought it was too damn good to be true, you finally settling down.”

It stings, knowing that Sam could think something like that, but Dean isn’t ready to give up. Not yet. Not this.

“Where the hell is this coming from?” he demands instead of responding to the attack, decides to try to logic this out. Maybe if he can prove that he’s not done anything wrong, Sam will calm down.

Sam snorts, turns away. Dean thinks he’s going to leave, but he just heads over to Dean’s duffle, reaches into it blindly. “As if you don’t know,” he mutters, digging around for a moment before he tugs something out. “If you haven’t been with some girl, then why are these here?”

For a moment, Dean almost wants to laugh. He has a feeling Sam won’t take it the right way, though, so he restrains himself.

But the situation is so absurd that it’s hard. Hanging on one of Sam’s fingers is a pair of panties, black and lacy. In hindsight, they do look like they should belong to a woman, and Sam’s accusations suddenly make a lot more sense.

“Well?” Sam looks almost scared, now, and Dean realizes he hasn’t responded. “Are you even going to try?”

“They’re mine.” Dean steps forward cautiously like Sam might lash out if he moves too fast. Reaches out and plucks them out of Sam’s grip. “They were gonna be a surprise for your birthday, y’know.”

And just like that, it’s as if all the anger melts out of Sam’s expression, replaced with confusion, understanding, and then embarrassment.

“You…” He swallows hard, shifts around in place. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Dean tries not to smile, but fails. “S’this mean I shouldn’t bother?”

Sam shakes his head so fast Dean thinks he’s going to give himself whiplash. “God, I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just…” He rubs at his face, looks torn. “I didn’t mean…”

“You did.” Dean shrugs. Steps forward until he can tug Sam closer, urges his brother’s arms around him. “S’okay.”

Maybe communication has never been their strong suit, and maybe they’ve got some issues to work out, but it’s one crisis averted, and that’s good enough for now.

Chapter Text

Dean’s smile fades slowly. Feels like he hasn’t really understood what Sam’s telling him. “What?” he asks, voice soft.

Sam looks uncomfortable, shifts in place a little bit. Won’t look Dean in the eyes. “I- I think you should go.” He glances over his shoulder. It’s late, and it suddenly occurs to Dean that he might not be alone. “I can’t- god, Dean, it’s been years.”

“Yeah, I know. But…” He hesitates. Tries to come up with some kind of excuse. “It’s Dad, you know? But I’m here now. I came back.”

“But I don’t need you here.” Sam’s words are soft, but it doesn’t make them hurt any less. “I’ve got a life now, Dean. I’m happy. I just…” He bites his lip. Seems to hesitate. “I can’t go back to what we had. Not now.”

“What are you saying?” Dean can barely force the words out. “You don’t… what?”

“Don’t make me say it, Dean.” Sam looks pained, and hesitates for several long seconds before continuing. “I don’t- I don’t feel like I used to. I can’t.”

Dean feels like he’s been winded. Like all the oxygen in the air has been taken away from him. Because Sam can’t mean what he’s saying. They’ve made it through too much together for something like this to end them. “But I-”

“Sam?” But then there’s someone else’s voice, someone soft and female. Tall and blonde as she comes up behind Sam, looking like she’s half-asleep. “Is everything okay?”

Sam looks like he wants to say something, but then his face hardens a little. Wraps an arm around the girl and pulls her close. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Dean notices the girl’s green eyes, pink lips. The way she moulds herself to Sam’s side.

He doesn’t wait to be introduced before turning around and walking away.

Chapter Text

“Wait- wait, Dean…” 

Dean stops what he’s doing, breathing hard and glancing up. He’s in the middle of sucking bruises into his brother’s throat, and he’s got Sam pressed against the hood of the car, flustered but still dressed. He can hear fireworks going off somewhere in the distance, but all he can focus on is Sam’s heartbeat, his quick breathing.

“Maybe we can…” He hesitates a moment, bites his lip. Dean’s distracted by them all over again, remembers how soft they’d felt against his own. “Try to- take this more slow?”

Dean pauses to consider that. Brings his eyes up to meets Sam’s again properly.

They’ve been dancing around each other for months. Years, even. There’s always been that taboo keeping them apart, the whisper in the back of his head insisting that it was wrong. But tonight had been too much, too perfect, and here they were, and Sam’s asking him to slow down.

It doesn’t take much thought.

“Yeah.” Dean clears his throat, tries to get the breathy tone out of his voice. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Sam smiles a little at that, leans forward and gives Dean a tiny kiss on the lips. Dean’s eyes flutter closed as he leans his forehead against his brother’s. 

“Thanks, Dean.” A pause, and then he finishes. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, kiddo.” If slow is what it takes to have this with his brother, then Dean’s more than happy to take his time.

Chapter Text

It’s almost eight o’clock. Sam’s watching the clock anxiously, the way he does every single Saturday night, waiting beside his fully-charged phone. It’s become their ritual, their solace, the only thing keeping them alive with so many miles between them.

It’s been four months, and every Saturday night at exactly eight o’clock, Dean has called, without fail, to check up on him. It was a joke at first, mother henning from across the country, but now they’re here and Sam isn’t sure he’d be able to survive without it.

Seven fifty-nine, and Sam’s holding his breath.

Just as the clock ticks over to eight o’clock, someone knocks on the door.

Sam frowns. Glances up towards the door, then back to his phone. He’s not sure who would be visiting at this hour, and he’s not about to miss his time with Dean for some door-to-door salesman, but he stands slowly. Takes his phone with him just in case.

The person’s knocking again just as he reaches the door, and Sam barely manages to grumble out a “hold on, I’m coming,” before he twists the knob and pulls the door open, and stops short.

Dean’s smiling, holds up his phone so his brother can see. “You still want me to call, or is it okay if we just talk like this?”

Sam’s stunned into silence for a few long seconds, then leans forward and wraps his arms around his brother as tight as he can.

Dean laughs, and Sam feels strong arms snake around his waist. “I missed you, too, kiddo.”

Then Dean pulls back and doesn’t hesitate before pressing their lips together, long and hard, nudges Sam backwards into his apartment.

They don’t break apart for a long few seconds, and when they do, they’re both breathing hard. Sam grips his brother tight, noses against Dean’s temple.

“Better than the phone?” Dean sounds amused, tilts his head to the side to let Sam at his neck.

“Way better.” A quick nip to Dean’s skin, and a kiss on the same spot immediately after. “I missed you.”

Chapter Text

“What do you mean you broke up?” Sam’s frowning and half-considers reaching up to check Dean’s temperature. “The only time a girl breaks up with you is when you tell her you’re leaving town.” A pause, and then Sam’s eyes widen a little. “We’re not leaving, are we?”

“What? No, no.” Dean shakes his head, clears his throat. “Look, it’s not a big deal, okay? It doesn’t matter, we just… didn’t work out.”

Sam isn’t ready to buy that, and narrows his eyes suspiciously at his brother. “No way. You really liked Amanda, didn’t you? And I thought she liked you, too.”

“I did. We did. Whatever.” Dean shakes his head. “I mean, we’ll leave sooner or later anyways, right? So there’s no point just hanging around waiting for it to happen.”

“Dean, c’mon.” Sam makes a face and crosses his arms. “Just tell me what happened. Did you cheat on her or something?”

“No.” Dean’s response is too fast. “Don’t be stupid.”

Except that Sam knows his brother, and he may be a lot of things, but unfaithful isn’t one of them. “Tell me.”

Dean shifts in place. Looks uncomfortable. “I just- I might’ve… said someone else’s name. When I shouldn’t have.”

Sam’s eyebrows rise of their own accord, and it takes a moment for him to formulate a response. “Like- when you guys were doin’ stuff? Who’s name?”

There’s a long moment when it looks like Dean isn’t going to respond. When he does, it’s so quiet that Sam barely catches it, and Dean doesn’t look at him. “Yours.”

When Dean looks up again, Sam’s already moved in close. Fists his hands in the front of his brother’s shirt, feels his heart pounding in his chest. Wonders if this is a dream. “Mine?”

A beat passes, then something solidifies in Dean’s expression and he leans forward, just barely brushes their lips together. “Yeah, Sammy,” he whispers. “Yours.”

That’s the end of the talking for a while after that.

Chapter Text

The fire’s still burning, somewhere behind them. Sam’s entire life, every last bit of normal he’s managed to build for himself has been reduced to ashes. His home, his girlfriend, and everything in between. It’s just a speck in the rear view mirror now, though, and Dean’s intent on getting them the hell out of California before even trying to figure out what to do.

Sam’s quiet. He hasn’t spoken a word since they climbed into the car together and took off to avoid the crowds, and even as they cross the state line and Dean finds a motel to pull into, it doesn’t change. It’s as concerning as it is expected, and he’s not entirely sure what to do about it right now.

Dean parks the car. Checks them into the motel, then gently leads his brother to their room. Sits him down on the edge of the bed.

It’s not until now that he realizes that Sam is crying. He doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t even tremble. Tears slips down his cheeks silently, cutting paths through soot and dirt, making his eyes shine brighter than they should.

Dean swallows hard. Carefully sits down beside Sam and reaches up to brush his fingertips over Sam’s cheeks, wiping the tears away and smearing the soot between the both of them.

“M’sorry.” His voice is quiet, and he can’t make himself speak more loudly. “You didn’t- I shouldn’t have gotten you back into this.” It’s all his fault, he’s sure, that his brother’s life has just been torn apart. He doesn’t know how to fix it. “I’m sorry, Sammy.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, but he slowly, slowly leans to his side until he’s resting against Dean. Closes his eyes and presses in close.

Maybe Dean isn’t ever going to forgive himself for this, but if he can offer his little brother some comfort, maybe he’ll be able to make up for it a tiny bit.

Chapter Text

“Come on, it’s just for fun,” Sam insists. The music’s already playing in the car, doors thrown wide open and volume cranked up high so they can hear it outside. It’s slower than Dean’s used to, and there sure as hell isn’t as much electric guitar. 

“But why?” Dean can’t help but ask. “I mean- dude, do I look like a chick to you?”

“You’re the shorter one, so it makes sense for you to be the girl,” Sam replies without missing a beat. He holds his hand out, palm-up. Smiles. “It’s not like anyone else is gonna see you, right? Just me.”

Dean knows his brother, of all people, knows how to bring things up just when he thinks they’re forgotten, but he can’t help himself when he takes a step forward. Reaches out and places his hand in Sam’s. “If you try to lift me, you’re getting smacked.”

Sam laughs, but nods obligingly. He guides Dean’s hand to his shoulder, settles his own on Dean’s hip, and starts to move slowly. Directs Dean’s eyes down to their feet and murmurs a quick “follow my lead.”

It’s complicated at first, a lot of stepping on toes and mumbled apologies. Dean feels clumsy for the first time in a life full of athleticism, and it’s more than a little bit frustrating.

But after a little while, things start to come together. He gets a hang of the pattern they’re stepping in, and they start to move more smoothly. The stars are out, and he can see Sam’s smile by the light of the moon, the soft hazel of his eyes.

Dean’s struggling a little with the fact that this is becoming stupidly romantic. More so with the fact that he has no desire to stop it.

When Sam dips him low, all Dean can do is laugh. Leans up and presses his lips to his brother’s, unable to help himself. 

“You’re a huge sap, you know that?” he murmurs when they finally break away.

Sam laughs and nods, straightening the both of them up. Doesn’t pull away. “Maybe. You love it, though.”

Dean has to admit that he maybe kind of does.

Chapter Text

“She used to talk about your eyes, you know. All the time.”

Dean looks up from where Poseidon is curled up in his lap, half-asleep. The cat’s fur is soft under his hair, and he keeps stroking it as he tilts his head, silently asks for an explanation.

Sam leans against the side of the boat, reaches up absently to tug his ponytail back into place. “Your mother. It’s the one thing she always said was her favourite thing about you, even though you got them from your dad.”

“Really?” Dean perks up a little, attention caught. He’s always eager to hear about his mother, and all things considered, Sam probably spent more time with her than he really got a chance to. “What else?”

Sam smiles. Moves to settle down on the deck, still leaning back, eyes sliding down to the cat in Dean’s lap before returning to Dean’s face. “That you were adorable, mostly. Her precious little boy.”

Dean looks away, feels his cheeks warm slightly. It’s one of the comments he hears most often from the crew, especially the woman who used to sail with his mother. But it’s always the comments that come from Sam that get to him the most, leave butterflies swirling free in his stomach. 

“She loved you a lot, you know.” Sam’s voice is softer this time, and Dean feels long fingers brushing through his hair a moment later. It’s getting long now, longer than it’s ever been, and he’s decided he likes it this way. “And I know she’d be so proud of you now. How much you’ve grown.”

Dean can’t help but tip his head into Sam’s touch, soaking up the affection. If it weren’t for Poseidon keeping him where he is, he’d gladly curl in closer the way he’s become accustomed to. For now, though, he supposes this is going to have to do.

“I miss her,” he murmurs, looking up at Sam with slightly wide eyes. Sam reminds him of his mother in a lot of ways, and it’s long since become a constant comfort. “I miss her a lot.”

Sam’s hand slides down to cup his cheek, and then there’s a gentle brush of lips against his forehead. “I know, kitten,” Sam whispers against his skin. “I know.”

Sam might not be a replacement for the mother he’s lost, but Dean thinks maybe Sam’s carved out a special place all his own in his life- one that Dean’s more than happy to accept.

Chapter Text

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” 

Sam’s fingers are tight around Dean’s wrists, bruising as he holds them together over Dean’s head. Dean’s face-down on the bed, breathing hard into the pillow. He doesn’t try to fight his brother’s hold, knows that Sam can probably overpower him in the position he’s in right now.

“Had to throw yourself in there without thinking.” Sam’s muttering into the back of his neck, his free hand moving down low. Dean’s not sure when he got the lube, but two fingers are pushing inside him a moment later, quick and insistent. Dean doesn’t have time to worry about it being too much too fast, because they’re already thrusting in and out, finding his prostate and rubbing into it mercilessly. 

A third finger slips in not long after, and Dean arches into it. Doesn’t bother trying to stifle himself when he moans. Sam’s going fast, working him open without mercy, and Dean can’t help but enjoy it.

“Could’ve got yourself killed.” It almost sounds like Sam’s voice is breaking as he says it, and for a fraction of a second, there’s that emotion slipping through. The fear, the anxiety. The naked terror at the possibility of losing one another.

But then the grip on his wrists tightens, and Dean’s brought back to the present. The fingers are tugged out of his ass roughly, and there’s barely a moment of hesitation before Sam’s cock presses against his entrance, and then one sharp thrust has Sam buried inside.

The pace is brutal, and Sam’s nearly snarling into the back of Dean’s neck. Teeth dig into the meat of his shoulder and he cries out, in pleasure as much as pain.

By the time Sam’s hand moves from a tight grip on his hip to curling around his cock, Dean’s right on the edge of his climax, and it send him over, clenching down hard around his brother when he comes. It’s intense, and he clutches at the sheets, barely feels it when Sam bites down again, when his brother spills inside him, moaning into his shoulder.

Dean’s exhausted by the time he’s done, barely has the energy to hold himself up as Sam pulls out slowly. 

His brother brings him down onto his side, spooned up together, and they’re both quiet for a long few moments. They don’t usually talk when things go this way, when their emotions come out physically, and Dean’s okay with that.

“Don’t do that.” Sam’s voice is soft, and barely there at all, but Dean hears it all the same. “Don’t want to see you hurt.”

Dean doesn’t say anything, just finds Sam’s hand and tangles their fingers together. He doesn’t want to make any promises he can’t keep.

Chapter Text

“So… Dad said you had a study date?”

The question catches Sam off-guard, and he looks up from his homework. Can’t help but raise his eyebrows a little bit when he sees how unhappy Dean looks. He’s not even sure what his brother’s talking about until he remembers staying late at the library with Nicole Aylon the other day to study.

So he shrugs, looks back at his work. “Not really, no.”

He hears Dean coming, but it’s still a surprise when his brother forces himself between Sam and his work, leaning back against the desk and looking at him intently. “A date? Seriously?” And then Dean looks hurt, and Sam’s even more confused. 

“Um.” He blinks a couple times. “I… guess?” It’s not the word he would use, but Dean seems to be getting awfully torn up over it. 

Dean makes a face. Straightens up. “So what, we’re not exclusive anymore or something?” he mutters, looks away.

It makes sense, then, and Sam tries not to smile as he understands. God, his brother’s just a possessive idiot. “A study date isn’t the same thing as a date, Dean.”

That seems to confuse Dean a little, and he looks up. Frowns. “What?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Just ‘cause you spend your ‘study dates’ making out doesn’t mean everyone does.” A shrug. “Nicole needed help with her history homework. I helped her.” He stood up, then, stretching up on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Dean’s lips. “And then came home to you.”

Dean actually, honest-to-god blushes. “Oh. Um.” He fumbles over his words, even as his hands come to settle on Sam’s hips, like it’s automatic. “Dad… Dad made it sound like a big deal.”

Sam shrugs. “He makes buying groceries sound like a big deal. I mean- it’s not a military operation, it’s the frozen foods section, you know?”

And then Dean’s laughing, so Sam considers this a win. “Fine, okay. So you helped some girl with her homework, and he made it sound like you got laid. Got it.”

“You’re ridiculous, y’know that?” But Sam leans up and kisses him again anyways, because that’s just exactly how he likes it.

Chapter Text

“He’s gonna find out.” Dean’s voice is soft when he speaks, and he can’t quite force himself to make it any louder. “I just- he’s gonna find out, Sammy, and then what? He’ll disown us or something.”

Sam looks unsure, shifts in place a little bit. “He wouldn’t do that,” he murmurs. “He wouldn’t. He’s our dad.”

Dean’s pretty sure there are a lot of things their dad would do if he found out about their relationship, and disowning them is still his preferred option. He doesn’t mention the other possibilities right now. “I think… maybe it’d be better if we stopped.” He swallows hard. Doesn’t look at his brother. “I mean- we can deal, right? And there’s no way he’ll find out if we’re not doing anything.”

Maybe Sam’s not really ready for that, though, because suddenly he’s stepping forward, and Dean feels his brother’s hands on his cheeks, and he’s being pulled into a hard kiss. It’s a little startling, considering Sam’s usual demeanour, but definitely not unwelcome, and he finds himself kissing back without really even needing to think about it.

Eventually, they break apart, and Dean rests his forehead against Sam’s, lets his eyes stay closed for the moment. Sam’s voice is barely a whisper. “No. I’m not losing you ‘cause of something that might happen, Dean. I won’t.”

There’s a moment when Dean doesn’t say anything. Just weighs his options. Considers what it’d be like not to kiss Sam goodnight, to go back to pretending that they’re just brothers, that nothing more had ever happened between them. The image has his squeezing his eyes shut tighter, trying to ignore the hollow ache in his chest.

“We’ve gotta be careful, though, okay?” he whispers. “I don’t- I can’t lose, you, Sammy. Not ever.”

Sam doesn’t reply. He just leans in close and presses their lips together again, a promise sealed between them. Come hell or high water, they’re not going to give this up.

Chapter Text

“I shouldn’t have done it.” Dean knows his voice is starting to edge into the territory of desperation, but he doesn’t care right now. “I just- I was pissed. At God, and you, and- all of it.”

Sam won’t look at him. He’s still got that wounded look on his face, and Dean feels like he just shot a dog or something. “I just… I thought it would stay with you forever, y’know? That it meant something.” He shrugs. Smiles a tiny bit, but there’s nothing happy about it. “I guess that was stupid, huh?”

“Sammy, no.” Dean steps closer, eyes searching his brother’s face. Trying to find absolutely anything he can work with. “I’ll get it back. We’ll go back to the motel, I’ll search the dumpster, whatever. Anything. Please.”

But Sam’s already shaking his head, and Dean has the sinking feeling that it’s not good enough. That maybe it’s not so much the amulet itself that’s the problem here. “What’s the point? You already threw it away.”

“Please.” Dean can barely whisper it. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a quiet moment, and then Sam looks right at him. Looks like he’s maybe about to cry. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “So am I.”

Dean can’t make himself try to stop his brother from walking out the door.

Chapter Text

“You promised,” Dean insists, like Sam’s going to go back on their deal if he’s not reminded of it. “On my birthday. You said we could.”

Sam sighs, but he looks more amused than anything else. It’s Dean’s sixteenth birthday, and there’s no way he’ll let Sam get away with not giving him his present. “Yeah, alright, baby. I know.”

That’s all the warning Dean gets before his brother’s on him, clothes tugged out of the way hastily as he’s backed up into the wall, Sam’s hands settling splayed and possessive on his hips.

Dean can’t help but grin. He’s not the only one who’s been waiting.

It’s just kissing at first, harder and deeper and with fewer layers between them, but apparently it isn’t enough. Not when Sam scoops him up off his feet and crosses the room to the bed in two long strides without taking his mouth off of Dean’s.

It’s not until he’s laying on his back with his big brother hovering over him that it really hits him. They’re really going to do this.

“Happy birthday, Dean.” Sam’s got a bit of a smile on his face, and he leans down, brushes their lips together. “Love you.”

Dean doesn’t see the lube, but he hears the click of the cap and feels the coolness of it when Sam nudges his legs apart and gently rubs a fingertip around his hole.

The first finger goes in easy, and Dean shivers. They’ve been here before, but it usually stops after the second one’s added. Knowing that won’t happen today has Dean jittery, and by the time the third finger’s inside him, he’s squirming a little, breath hitching every time they brush against him just right.

But even then, the fingers are pulled out, and Sam’s getting himself lined up.

“This is it,” he murmurs. He’s hovering over Dean again, and Dean can just barely feel the head of his cock nudging his entrance. All ready?“

Dean’s response is to spread his legs a little wider and loop his arms around Sam’s neck. "Yeah,” he whispers. “Please.”

Sam leans down to kiss him just as he starts pressing inside, and Dean’s moan is lost in his mouth.

It’s like finally being complete after going so long only half-formed, having Sam like this. It’s everything he’s been waiting for and everything that makes their relationship real, reminds him that they’ll always have each other.

Sam clutches him close the whole time. There’s hardly any space between their bodies as he rocks forward, short little thrusts that brush right against Dean’s prostate once he’s got the angle down. It’s all-consuming, and Dean finds himself wondering how they’ve gone so long without.

Dean doesn’t manage any real coherent words until he’s right on the edge, until Sam sneaks one hand down between them and starts stroking his cock, whispers into his mouth to “come on, baby, come for me.” He’s all short gasps and breathy moans until then, because when he comes, all he can think, all he can hear or smell or taste or feel, is his brother.

“God, Sam.”

It all winds down after that, Sam finishing with a moan he stifles in the crook of Dean’s neck. Then they’re just pressed together, catching their breath and holding each other and exchanging lazy kisses.

“Okay?” Sam checks, noses under Dean’s jaw. “You good?”

“Yeah.” Dean sighs happily, tilts his head back. “Really good.”

Chapter Text

Dean isn’t ready to be shoved, so he stumbles, their lips separating forcibly. Sam’s breathing hard, hunched defensively, looks more than a little wary.

“What the hell, Dean?” His voice is soft, but it doesn’t make the words any less cutting. “You- you kissed me.”

Dean rights himself. Nods slowly. Maybe Sam’s just in shock. “Yeah.”


The question catches him by surprise, but he manages to respond anyways. “Because I wanted to.” It’s something he’s been thinking about for a while, so why not just go for it?

“You…” Sam shakes his head sharply like he’s trying to clear it. “Dean, we’re brothers. I’m your brother.”

“So?” Dean frowns. Wonders why Sam feels the need to emphasize that. Obviously. “Dude, you helped me dig up a grave and burn everything inside like last week. Are you seriously hung up on this?”

But Sam just looks a little queasy, and Dean feels like his stomach is tying itself in knots. “That’s different. You can’t just- it’s wrong. Brothers don’t do that.”

It’s something he should’ve been prepared for, but Dean still finds himself fumbling. “But- c'mon, it’s not a big deal.”

“I can’t-” Sam cuts himself off. Moves carefully around Dean and grabs his jacket. “I need to go, okay? I just…” He trails off. Heads for the door.

Dean’s left feeling like he’s slowly breaking inside, and wondering if he could’ve possibly fucked up worse.

Chapter Text

“C’mon, you can do it.” Dean smiles encouragingly, reaches over to nudge his brother. Just enough to feel without it distracting him from the road. “You can ease up on the breaks a little.”

Sam’s biting his lip in his concentration as they roll to a stop at an abandoned intersection. Dean’s glad they chose now to practice; it’s a tiny town in Bumfuck, America, and there’s plenty of space for him to teach Sam to drive without worrying about locals getting in the way. 

“Good.” Dean leans over and gives his brother a kiss on the cheek, grins at the way he blushes. “You think you can get us back to the motel?”

“Yeah.” Sam’s nodding, presses down on the gas to get them rolling again, still nibbling away. Dean really, really wants to catch that lower lip between his teeth, but he’s not about to distract the poor kid from what he’s doing. “I can do it.”

“Good.” Dean nods, settles back against the seat. It’s one of the few times they’ve been out like this without the music on- Sam’s insisted on having as few distractions as possible- so all he can really hear is the purr of the engine and Sam’s breathing to his side. “You’re doing good, Sammy. Really good.”

That earns him a smile, and Dean can’t help himself anymore. At the next stop, he leans over, cups Sam’s jaw in his hand and pulls his brother in for a kiss, long and slow. By the time they break apart, the light’s green, and Sam’s red, and Dean thinks it’s just about the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

Then again, maybe that’s just his little brother in general.

Chapter Text

He can’t see. There’s a blindfold covering his eyes, and there’s a gag in his mouth, and he doesn’t know where Sam is or what he’s doing, and Dean can feel the way his heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest.

Every sound has him nearly flinching, a rustle of fabric or a creak of floorboards. It only gets worse when he feels the bed dip, the springs in the mattress giving a groan of protest, and he tries to steady himself. Tries to take a deep breath, because he can do this. Sam wants to try something new, and Dean is damn well going to let him.

Even with that in mind, he can’t help the way he instinctively jerks away when his brother’s fingertips brush over his cheek.

Because even though he knows it’s Sam- knows his scent, his callouses, hell, the way his breathing sounds- there’s some stupid, irrational part of his brain that’s whispering about how maybe it isn’t. Maybe this is all some cruel, elaborate joke, and maybe he’s downstairs again, after all. Maybe Alastair wants to make him moan this time before hearing him scream.

So when the hands- Sam’s hands, they’re Sam’s hands and he knows that- slide from his face to his neck and then lower, Dean panics.

Maybe he can’t speak right now, but his brother had made absolutely sure how to safeword before they started this. Dean fumbles the first couple times, clammy sweat making it hard, but then he’s snapping his fingers where his hands are bound, the movements desperate and rushed.

Just like he’d flipped a switch, everything stops. Sam’s hands aren’t on him anymore, and then the blindfold’s coming off. The gag goes next, and finally, his hands are freed. Dean’s not sure if he’s actually hyperventilating, but it sure feels that way, and when Sam touches his face again, his fingertips come away wet.

“Hey, just breathe,” Sam’s saying, and his voice is soft, and Dean feels compelled to listen. Tries to match his breathing to his brother’s as he feels Sam stroking his hair. “Deep breaths, Dean, just like that. Good.”

Slowly, Dean manages to calm down, with Sam’s help. It’s not long after that when he finds himself curled up in Sam’s arms, head tucked under his brother’s chin while Sam rubs his back.

“M'sorry.” He feels the way Sam’s chest rumbles with the words. “It was Hell, wasn’t it?”

Dean just nods quietly. He’s content to stay where he is, safe and sound with Sam’s heartbeat under his ear.

A kiss is pressed to the top of his head. “Thank you. For telling me to stop. You did so good.”

However Sam thinks it went, Dean’s just happy they’re here now, and thinks he’s damn lucky to have someone so good to be here with.

Chapter Text

Sam doesn’t know why it would be the case, but he’s convinced that his brother’s avoiding him.

Dean’s been more and more “busy” recently, even when he’s not working a case. It’s one excuse after another, and as much as Sam hates to admit it to himself, he’s starting to get worried.

Whatever the case may be, he isn’t about to confront it. Not now, anyways. He doesn’t want to push Dean away any more than he’s already moved, and going after him with that kind of questioning seems like exactly the way to make the situation worse.

Amidst all his worrying, he’s completely lost track of the date, so when Dean wakes him up with a kiss and a “happy birthday, kid,” mumbled against his lips, he’s caught completely off-guard.

He opens his eyes slowly, meets surprisingly nervous green ones where Dean’s hovering over him. “Oh. Um- hey. Thanks?”

“Did you forget?” Dean shakes his head and gets up, turns and heads over to his bed. Starts rummaging around underneath it. “‘Course you did. Aways forget the important stuff, huh?”

Sam sits up and tries to get a peek at what Dean’s doing, but then his brother’s standing again, and this time there’s a box in his arms. It’s wrapped messily, and “to: Sammy” is scrawled on one side in what looks like black sharpie, but it doesn’t at all detract from his curiosity.

“Here.” Dean looks nervous again as he holds the box out in Sam’s direction, fidgets a little in place as it’s accepted. “Happy birthday. Again.”

Sam watches him for a moment before shrugging and focusing on the box itself. Starts peeling the paper off carefully at first, then faster when he gets a glimpse of what’s inside.

It’s a laptop. A brand-new laptop, still sealed in its box, the only imperfection being the torn, sticky remains of what he imagines must have been a price tag.

“Dean,” he breathes out, can’t even tear his eyes away from the box in order to look at his brother. “How did…?”

“You said you needed one.” A rustle of fabric, and then the mattress dips with Dean’s weight on the edge of it. “For school and stuff, right?”

Sam’s about to ask- he’s not sure he’s ever actually voiced that thought- but then he remembers, and for a moment, he’s stunned into silence.

It was a couple months ago. Snow still on the ground. He hadn’t even really been thinking about what he’d been saying; Dean had seemed like he was entirely distracted by some medical drama, so it wasn’t like it mattered when he’d made the comment. Something about how moving wouldn’t be such a pain if he had something like a computer to make his work easier.

“I didn’t even think you were listening.” Sam swallows hard, tries to gather himself as he feels tears burning at his eyes. “I- how did you even afford this?”

Dean shrugs, and won’t quite look him in the eye. Looks almost embarrassed. “Been picking up some work on the side,” he admits. “When I can, anyway. S'why I’ve been gone so often.”

Everything suddenly makes sense, and without stopping to think, Sam’s carefully setting the box to the side and tugging Dean in for a tight hug. “Thank you,” he mumbles into his brother’s shoulder. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

A laugh, and then Dean’s hugging him back. “Don’t mention it, okay? I mean really, don’t. Better Dad thinks I stole it.” A smile against his skin and a quick kiss. “C'mon, it’s still your birthday. I sprung for the good pancake mix.”

Sam thinks maybe that he’s the luckiest guy in the world- or at least that he’s got the best big brother.

Chapter Text

Sam shrugs and won’t quite look at him straight-on. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d say the older boy was actually shy. 

“Look, it’s not a big deal. I just saw someone dealing them, and thought you might like a few.” He holds out the matches again, neatly contained in their little cardboard folds, and Dean takes it with a sort of reverence, eyes wide.

It’s been weeks since he’s been able to get his hands on any matches, but it feels longer. Whatever he’d been able to sneak between the accident and being incarcerated had been taken away as soon as he got here, and he’s pretty sure this is how withdrawal feels.

But here Sam is, just handing them over like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t earn them, or give something away for them. Like he doesn’t know how much they mean.

“Really?” Dean’s voice is hushed, and he peeks up at his cellmate, bites his lip. “What do I have to do?”

Sam looks confused for a moment. “What?” 

Dean tucks the matchbook away in his jumpsuit, right in the pocket over his heart, then moves a little closer. Only hesitates a moment before moving down to his knees. Shifting closer until his hands can settle on the bunched-up upper half of Sam’s outfit where he’s wrapped it around his waist.

Then Sam’s hands are cupping his cheeks, and he looks halfway between embarrassed and alarmed. “No, that’s- Dean, no. You don’t have to do that, I just… thought you’d like them.”

That makes Dean pause, and he looks up, confused. If Sam’s taught him anything during their time here, it’s that everything comes with a price. “Then what do you want?”

Sam gently grabs him by the arms, pulls him to his feet and looks him over. “Nothing. Dean, I just…” He shrugs. “I wanted you to be happy. You get all twitchy sometimes, and I figured this might help.”

It takes Dean by surprise, and before he can stop himself, he’s leaning forward and wrapping his arms tight around the older boy. Sam’s stiff for a moment, but slowly relaxes, wraps his arms around Dean in return.

“Thank you.” It’s mumbled against Sam’s chest, but Dean figures he can hear it, anyways. “Thanks, Sam.”

Chapter Text

Dean’s breathing hard, little hitched moans escaping him when he can manage them. It feels like too much- has for a while now, an eternity contained in several minutes- but he doesn’t want it to stop. Can’t even make himself speak.

He’s come four times already, splayed out on his back with his brother hovering over him. He’s not sure how he’s made it this long, even, but Sam’s still going, working a vibrator in and out of his ass at a steady pace with his free hand teasing at his cock. 

“So pretty like this, Dean.” Sam’s voice is soft, and his lips move against Dean’s chest where he’s pressing light kisses, occasional bites. They have Dean gasping, twitching up, feeling like every nerve ending is alight and tingling. “Doin’ so good, baby.”

Dean can barely process the words, can’t think much at all beyond his brother’s touch, the way it’s making him tremble. He’s not even getting fully hard anymore; he’s not exactly a teenager anymore, and Sam’s merciless in his attentions.

But that doesn’t stop his brother from continuing, and soon he’s moving down, lips brushing the head of Dean’s cock. “Did I tire you out?” And he almost sounds amused, but Dean doesn’t have the energy to be offended right now. “Don’t worry, you can sleep after this. Get all ready to go again for the morning.”

Sam’s mouth on his cock is as torturous as it is satisfying, and Dean lets his eyes flutter shut to enjoy it. It’s warm, and it’s soft, and it’s just barely too much. Not enough to want it to end.

But it does end, after some immeasurable amount of time. He hasn’t realized Sam’s been cleaning him up until he’s finished, until he pulls away with a soft pop and Dean doesn’t feel quite as sticky anymore.

The vibrator’s removed a moment later, and Dean hears it being clicked off, and then a pair of lips brush against his forehead, gentle as anything. “Just rest now, okay?” his brother’s saying, and Dean can’t think of anything at all he’d rather be doing.

Chapter Text

“She’s gentle, I promise." 

As soothing as Sam’s voice is, it doesn’t stop Dean from fighting not to flinch as the raptor steps closer. She’s black like obsidian from head to toe, and her eyes are big and attentive. Shallow breathing, and she steps closer, breathes in deep. Scenting him. 

"Go on.” And then Sam’s hand is catching his, guiding it gently. It’s big around his, dirty fingers cradling his hand with the lightest touch until he’s leading it to settle on the raptor’s head. Cool scales under his hand, and Dean’s not being torn apart, and he can’t really remember how to breathe. “She’s the pack’s beta, but I just call her Baby. It’s what she responds to best." 

"Baby,” Dean repeats in a murmur. They’ve made eye contact now, the two of them, and he gets the distinct feeling that he’s being evaluated. 

But then she’s pushing her head into his hand and making a chittering sound that reminds him distinctly of a purr. 

Sam’s grinning, and he claps Dean on the shoulder. There’s a kiss pressed to Dean’s temple, casual and fleeting. “See? She likes you." 

Dean’s smiling, too, and he looks up at Sam. Can’t help the excitement in his voice. "She’s not trying to kill me." 

"Nope. You passed the test, kid.” A huff of a laugh, and Sam makes some kind of gesture that has Baby taking a step backwards. “Congratulations." 

Dean’s not sure exactly what he did to be accepted by Sam’s little pack, but whatever it was, it’s got him nearly bouncing with excitement. However this relationship is going to go, it’ll be far from boring.

Chapter Text

“Seriously?” Sam’s laughing, stumbles over his own feet on their way to the stage. They’ve both had a little too much to drink, but that’s sure as hell not stopping them. “’Walking On Sunshine’?”

“You got a problem with ‘Walking On Sunshine’?” Dean asks, glances over at Sam and gives him as serious a look as he’s able to muster. It breaks a moment later into snickers when he sees how debauched Sam looks, hair mussed and cheeks red. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Sam’s rolling his eyes, but offers no resistance as they climb the steps and head for the microphone. The opening chords are already playing, and Dean clears his throat, throws a grin at his brother just as the first lyrics appear.

“I used to think maybe you loved me, now baby, I’m sure,” Dean croons, doesn’t look away from his brother the whole time.

Sam’s laughing, but he manages to get himself together in time for the next line. “And I just can’t wait ‘til the day when you knock on my door.”

“Now every time I go for the mailbox, gotta hold myself down,” Dean responds, knows he’s off-key but doesn’t care. 

“'Cause I just cant wait till you write me, you’re coming around.” Sam’s got a huge grin, now, still clutching at his hands, and they go into the chorus together.

Neither of them are any good, and the people in the crowd look more amused than impressed, but it doesn’t make it any less fun.

Chapter Text

“Had to run in ahead of me, didn’t you?” Sam murmurs, frowning. He’s got Dean sitting on the edge of the bed in front of him, and he’s opening the first aid kit, sifting through it to find what he needs. “Thought we had a plan, Dean.”

“Saw the ‘shifter coming at you.” Dean’s quiet, but not uncertain. “I wanted to help. Wasn’t gonna let you get hurt, Sammy.”

“Not your job to protect me.” Sam sighs, rubs at the bridge of his nose. His little brother’s hero complex has been getting out of control lately, and this is exactly what he doesn’t like about it- the fact that it’s going to get Dean hurt. “We have a plan, we stick to it. That’s how it goes.”

Dean makes a face like he doesn’t agree, but doesn’t say anything else. Sam’s found the disinfectant by now, and the gauze isn’t far behind. He knows this is going to be a bitch to go through with- Dean’s got some nasty cuts from the ‘shifter’s knife, and some of them look deep enough for stitches- but there’s no way in hell Dean would let him take him to a hospital, even if he bothered asking.

He gets a few cotton balls wet with the disinfectant, and then turns back to his brother. Hesitates. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

Dean nods once and presses his lips tight together. He’s already bracing himself, and that all by itself is enough of a hint as to how bad the injuries are.

The first dab with the wipe has Dean flinching away and closing his eyes, and Sam takes a slow breath. Steadies himself. Mumbles an apology.

It doesn’t get any better as it goes on. Though the cuts don’t look as bad once the blood’s cleaned away, they’re still deep, and Dean’s still hurting, and by the time the smaller cuts are dealt with, and Sam glances up at his brother’s face, there are silent tears slipping down his cheeks, and Sam’s chest aches. 

“God, I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, reaches up to cup Dean’s cheek with his free hand. Dean presses into his touch and makes a soft sound. Doesn’t open his eyes. “I should’ve protected you better.” 

“No.” Dean’s voice is uncharacteristically small, and he shakes his head, just barely. “Should’ve listened.”

Sam sighs. Leans up to brush his lips just barely against Dean’s. “Not your fault, baby. Just- let me make you all better, okay?”

It goes a little smoother after that, but Dean’s breath still hitches when the needle pierces his skin for Sam to sew him back together. It feels longer than it is, but eventually, he’s finished, and Dean’s as cleaned up as he can get, drying blood replaced by clean bandages.

He barely bothers to tuck away the first aid kit before climbing into bed with Dean, gently urging his brother to lie down before gathering him up close and nosing into his hair. 

“I’m gonna keep you safe, okay?” He presses a kiss just behind Dean’s ear. Smiles a little when his brother presses closer. “Always.”

Dean doesn’t reply, but he snuggles closer and relaxes in Sam’s arms. For now, that’s more than enough.

Chapter Text

“Gotta be quiet, Sammy.” Dean can’t quite wipe the grin off his face as he leans in closer, nips at the shell of Sam’s ear playfully. He’s got his brother bent over the heavy wooden desk at the front of the room, still dressed, but looking thoroughly debauched all the same. He’s breathing hard, arching up against Dean with every movement of his hips.

“Dean, c’mon,” Sam’s breathing out, fingers scrabbling for some kind of hold. “We can’t- someone’s gonna find us.”

“Door’s locked, blinds are closed.” Dean gives another sharp roll of his hips, grins. “And if you stay quiet, then there’s no reason for them to come looking, is there?”

Sam looks like he wants to respond, but bites his lip instead after a glance at the door. Dean hums his approval and presses a kiss to his brother’s neck.

It doesn’t get more complicated than that, just Dean rutting against his brother. Shifts until he can get a hand around to his brother’s front and slips it down his pants, fingertips teasing at the tent in his boxers. Sam gasps and jerks against him.

“Feels good, right?” he murmurs, starts stroking slowly. “Even better knowin’ someone could find us. Could walk by and look inside and see you all pretty like this, moaning for me.” 

Whether it’s the words themselves or the way Dean gives a sharp jerk of his hips, Sam moans again, presses back against him. “Please, Dean,” he manages, and it’s breathless, needy. Just how Dean likes to hear his little brother.

“Yeah.” A smile, and his hand speeds up. “I got you, kiddo.”

It doesn’t take long after that, and then Sam’s shuddering into his release, arching back against Dean and ruining his boxers. It’s hearing the little whines he lets out that has Dean coming almost immediately after him, riding it out against Sam’s ass and breathing hard against his neck.

He pulls away slowly, makes sure Sam’s still on his feet. “See? No one saw.” He smiles again, presses a kiss to his brother’s lips when he turns around. Sam’s smiling, too, still pink high in his cheeks. “Now c’mon, let’s go. You’ve got a math test, right?”

It might be a little difficult to focus with the mess in his pants, but Sam’s a smart kid. He’ll deal.

Chapter Text

“Drink bleach.”

The words are still ringing in Sam’s mind, even now. Even as he’s lining himself up, head of his cock pressed against Dean’s entrance before slamming inside, quick and hard, even as his big brother’s moaning for him, he hears them. He’s not so much hurt as he is confused; why would someone bother? It’s not exactly the first time death’s been wished on them, but the whole thing had still caught him off-guard.

“You’re thinking too much.”

Even as breathy as Dean’s voice is, it’s enough to drag Sam out of his thoughts. His brother looks mildly concerned, eyebrows raised slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Sam shifts in place a little, trying not to smile when Dean’s breath hitches as his prostate is brushed over. “Nothin’. Just thinking about the hunt.”

“Well…” Then Dean’s leaning up and pressing their lips together hard, fingers catching in Sam’s hair. “Don’t. There isn’t nearly enough of you fucking me going on right now.”

That actually gets an honest laugh out of Sam, and he shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got you.”

He starts working his hips properly, hands finding Dean’s to hold. He’s got better things to worry about than some petty comment made hours ago.




“Dean, come on. It’s a newspaper.” Sam sounds exasperated. “It’s not gonna bite you.”

Dean waves the comment off. “So? It’s boring as hell. I don’t care if Missy Picket from down the road won Corn Queen this year.”

“You might care if they found her disemboweled the next day,” his brother replies dryly. “I can’t do all the research myself, man. Come on.”

Dean makes a face. “What do I get in return?”

“You get me fucking you instead of blue balls for a week because you were being a prick.”

A moment of consideration, and Dean nods. “Fine. I’m only reading the interesting parts, though.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.”




Dean raises his eyebrows at the aggression, glances at the disgruntled guy that Sam’s just sent away, and then looks back at his brother. “Dude. ‘Screw off?’”

Sam won’t look straight at him. Sits down at the bar and glares at nothing in particular as if it’s all personally offended him. “Just forget it.”

His brother’s acting strangely, and it’s starting to worry him. “Dude, seriously. What’s wrong?” Another long few moments of Sam refusing to look at him, and Dean raises his eyebrows. “Are you… jealous?”

At that, Sam stands up sharply. He grabs Dean’s wrist without preamble and leads the way out of the bar, barely leaving Dean enough time to drop a tip on the counter.

He finds himself pressed back against the wall in the alleyway, Sam’s mouth on his, and he’s far from complaining. Lets his eyes slip shut, moans a little as he kisses back.

“Don’t like seeing you with other guys.” Sam’s mumbling against his mouth, nips at his lower lip. “See how they look at you.”

Dean had noticed it, too- he always does- but he’d been more concerned with getting intel for their case at the time. “Don’t want anyone else,” he murmurs anyways, grips at Sam’s shirt. “Just you, Sammy.”

Sam takes a deep breath and rests their foreheads together. “Just you,” he echoes softly. “Just us.”

That’s the way it was always supposed to be, regardless.

Chapter Text

“Just trust me, okay?” Kisses peppered along the line of his spine, and Dean shivers, arches into it. “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

It’s not something Dean’s used to hearing from his little brother, but right now, he’s pretty sure he’d agree to anything. He just spreads his legs a little more, shifts into a comfortable position in lieu of speaking.

A pleased hum from Sam, and then his brother’s lips are trailing lower, brushing over the small of his back before they meet one cheek of his ass, then the other.

It’s not something Dean’s tried before, but Sam’s somehow managed to talk him into it. There’s a promise of blowjob to make up for it if it doesn’t go well, so he’s ready for just about anything.

That’s what he thinks, anyways, until he feels the tip of Sam’s tongue teasing around his rim, and he chokes, gives a full-body jerk with surprise at the sensation.

He feels a puff of air against his skin as Sam laughs. “Easy, cowboy. You okay?”

Dean manages to steady himself, then nods. Clears his throat. His voice sounds hoarse, anyways. “M'fine. Keep doin’ that.”

That earns him another soft laugh, but Sam does as he’s told, anyways. His tongue is back a moment later, and there’s the gentlest brush of his teeth, a tiny nibble, and Dean shivers, tries to push himself closer.

This should be obscene, he thinks. Even for them. But god, all he can think about is the way Sam’s tongue feels on him, and it only gets better when it starts working its way inside.

Dean flat-out whines, can’t stop the sound from escaping him. It’s nothing like Sam’s fingers are, different in a way he’s never imagined. It’s got him rocking back against the feeling, panting open-mouthed against the sheets.

He can feel it when Sam hums, feel the vibrations in the most intimate way. It’s only adding to the familiar warmth pooling in his stomach, and certainly doesn’t slow him down; he’s just gripping tighter at what little purchase he has on the bed, caught between wanting this to go on forever and wanting Sam to finish him off.

It seems his brother is on the same train of thought, because suddenly there’s something else pushing in alongside Sam’s tongue, and Dean moans as Sam’s finger slips inside him, a second one soon after. They find his prostate within seconds, start rubbing in tight little circles while he sucks and nips at Dean’s rim, and it’s too goddamn much.

Dean barely manages to cry out when he comes, completely untouched, hips jerking slightly in an attempt to get closer to Sam’s tongue, to drive his fingers deeper inside. Sam works himn through it, massaging his prostate and slowly easing out once he’s trembling with aftershocks.

“Told you.”

Dean almost misses it, in the midst of collapsing on the bed, but he sure as hell hears the smug tone in Sam’s voice. “What?”

“That it’d be good.” Sam slides up to lay beside him, pulls Dean into his arms. “You liked it, right?”

Dean’s man enough to admit when he likes something, and nods once. “But you’re not kissing me until you brush your teeth. Twice.” He waves an accusing finger in Sam’s face. “I know where that’s been.”

Hearing his brother laugh is definitely worth kissing him, anyways, dirty mouth and all.

Chapter Text

It’s been hours.

At least, that’s how it feels to Dean. There are no clocks in this house, and he’s relying on the lengthening of his own shadow over the dirty carpet to track the passing of time. It creeps by slowly, the way it always seems to when Sam’s away, and he’s getting anxious.

Nothing good ever comes from Sam being gone for long stretches of time. Dean can’t leave the house- he’d learned that the hard way months ago- so all he can do during his time is wander the barren rooms, trying to find some way to entertain himself.

Usually, though, he’s too scared to bother.

Today is one of those days. It’s kept Dean in place, sitting stiffly on the edge of someone else’s empty bed, and waiting for his big brother to come home.

Even with that in mind, he still flinches when he hears the front door open.

It’s been long enough now that Dean knows exactly what to do.

He stands quietly, runs a hand through his hair- it’s getting long again, and he knows Sam’s going to like that- and starts for the door.

Sam’s there when he makes it to the hallway, looking cheerful as ever. He’s humming to himself, nudges the door closed with his hip. Doesn’t seem to be bothered by the crimson staining his hands.

His eyes are on Dean immediately, and he smiles, pauses to reset the locks on the door before moving towards him. “Hey, baby boy,” he coos, the distance between them closed in three long steps. “Did you miss me?”

And then Sam’s reaching up, cupping Dean’s face between his hands- they’re stained with blood, and god, Dean can feel it smearing on his skin, sticky and warm- and Dean feels like he can’t breathe.

His brother doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’m sorry I had to leave you here.” If Dean didn’t know better, he’d have thought that his brother was feeling genuine regret. “You know I have no choice, right? I need to keep you safe, and this is the only way.”

Dean’s not really listening. Closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. Regrets it when he’s flooded with the scent of iron, feels dizzy with it.

“I’m keeping you safe. Keeping us safe.” And then Sam’s tilting his chin up, and Dean feels the brush of lips against his. Shivers.

"I love you.“ Sam whispers it against his lips, then pulls away. Smooths his fingers through Dean’s hair, pauses when the blood has it catching between them. “I love you so much, Dean. And one day, you’re gonna say it back.”

Dean hasn’t been able to say much of anything since his brother stole him away, but then, Sam’s always been a bit of an optimist.

Chapter Text

“We were gonna get an early start tomorrow,” Sam tries to point out even as he follows his brother from the bedroom and out. “You’re always cranky when you don’t sleep long enough.”

Dean doesn’t seem to be bothered, just adjusting his boxers a bit as he pads, barefoot, into the kitchen. Winces a bit, toes curling against cool tile. “Then we’ll sleep in. I’m not gonna be able to sleep like this.”

“Like what?” Sam figures he might as well humour him. “What’s the problem?”

“I’m hungry.” Dean goes straight to the fridge and starts rifling around, makes a face as he squints in the light. “I want pie.”

Sam sighs, but can’t quite help a smile. Comes up behind Dean, wraps his arms around his brother’s waist, and rests his chin on his shoulder. “Of course you do.”

Dean leans into him a little, but doesn’t stop his searching. “Why don’t we have any pie? I thought we had pie, Sam.”

Sam shrugs. Presses a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “We could always make one ourselves.”

Screw the early start. They’re here anyways, and it’s not like anyone’s waiting on them to get going tomorrow. Besides, the way Dean perks up, turns to try to kiss him immediately tells Sam that it’s the right thing to say.

“We’re doing it.” Dean nods intently, manages to give Sam a proper kiss before twisting around in his arms again and rooting around in the fridge. “We’ve got flour, right? The good kind?”

“The good kind, Dean.” Sam can’t help a smile- he’s always thought it’s adorable when Dean gets excited about food- and lets him go as he starts hurrying around the kitchen. “Tell me what to do.”

That earns him a grin as Dean glances over his shoulder. “Kinky. Find the sugar for me.”

And so it goes, with Dean giving Sam simple enough tasks to do while he pulls it all together, humming to himself and swaying his hips a bit as he works. It’s probably why Sam doesn’t do anything too complex; he nearly cuts his finger off slicing apples when Dean stretches up to reach something high. There’s too much bare skin for it to not be distracting.

By the time the pie’s in the oven, Dean looks sleepy and there’s flour on his cheeks, but he’s obviously pleased with himself. He waltzes straight into Sam’s arms and stretches up on his toes, plants a kiss on his lips. Grins.

“Told you this would be fun, didn’t I?” he asks, sounding a little smug but mostly just happy.

Sam can’t help but smile. “Alright, it was kinda fun,” he admits. “But don’t blame me when you’re grumpy tomorrow, and you’re making your own coffee.”

Dean rolls his eyes and gives Sam another kiss. “You make it better. You’re making my coffee for me, bitch.”

Sam smiles fondly and rests his forehead against Dean’s. “Jerk.”

There’s still time to kill before the pie’s ready, and it’s approaching three in the morning, and there’s nowhere else in the world that Sam would rather be.

Chapter Text

It’s a Saturday, so Dean doesn’t feel the tiniest bit guilty for letting himself sleep in. He’s warm under the blankets, Sam’s arm wrapped around him securely and keeping him close, and all in all, he’s feeling perfectly content to stay right where he is for the foreseeable future. 

Maybe Sam has different plans, though, because his older brother stirs some indeterminable amount of time later. Huffs and shifts around a little before just pulling Dean halfway on top of him and hugging him even tighter.

Dean can’t help a smile, resting his cheek on Sam’s chest and peeking up at him. There’s the slightest bit of sun peeking in from between the curtains, and it’s highlighting Sam’s cheekbones, leaving one side of his face shaded.

“Mornin’, Daddy,” Dean says softly, leaning up to press a kiss to his brother’s chin. Likes the way Sam hums in response to the title. “Thought we were gonna do stuff today?”

Sam finally manages to get his eyes open, but they’re still half-lidded, just a slit of hazel visible. “Thought you liked sleeping in?”

He’s got a point. 

“Fine, but we’ve still gotta do stuff.” Dean snuggles closer and closes his eyes again, tucks his head under Sam’s chin. “You promised we’d get dinner at the fancy burger place today.”

He can feel the soft rumble of Sam’s laugh in his chest, and then he’s hugged a little tighter. “Yeah, kiddo, we can get fancy burgers. Just sleep now, though, okay?”

Dean decides that it’s a decision he can live with.

Chapter Text

Sam’s sitting as straight as he can, doing his best to look presentable. He’s meeting a potential family today, one who might take him home, and he knows he needs to make a good first impression on them.

His tail beating rapidly against the floor is probably giving away his excitement, though.

He smells them before he sees them; a family unit, two adults and a child. They’re stepping into the room a moment later, though, and Sam’s given a clearer picture.

The child- a young boy- is walking in between his parents, each of them holding one of his hands. It seems odd until Sam looks at the boy properly. Notices green eyes that aren’t as bright as they should be. Notices how they don’t focus on anything in particular.

Sam hasn’t yet been told about this child’s needs, but it’s not hard to guess it’s probably to do with the fact that he can’t see.

“This is Sam.” It’s one of the volunteers who works at the center who’s speaking, coming in just behind the family. “He’s one of our best, but he hasn’t been taken yet because of his size, mostly. Some kids get scared, but he’s really quite sweet.”

Sam’s only half-listening, all of his attention fixed on the little boy who’s now left his parent’s hold and is carefully toddling towards him. Sam shifts down a little, folds his paws under him and sits so he won’t be quite so huge.

“Sam?” Sam glances up at his name, tilts his head at the volunteer. “This is Dean Winchester, and his parents, Mary and John.”

The information is all that Sam needs for the moment, and now he has a name to put to unfocused green eyes and a smattering of freckles. 

Dean’s just about reached him now, and he’s reaching a hand up in front of him. “Hi, Sam,” he says, and Sam feels like he might melt from how soft and gentle his voice is. “I’m Dean.”

Moving slowly so he doesn’t startle the boy, Sam stretches forward until his nose bumps into Dean’s hand, and stays still as Dean takes another tiny step closer. He takes the chance to take in every detail of Dean’s face, memorizing every part of him. 

Dean’s hand smooths down the length of his snout, and there’s the slightest furrow in his brow as he works his way back, finds one of Sam’s ears and traces it with his fingertips. Sam flicks it against Dean’s hand, makes a happy rumble when the boy laughs. “You’re a real big wolf, huh?” he murmurs, and Sam nudges into his side in response.

Dean doesn’t stop there, and continues his exploration a moment later. His hands trace the curve of Sam’s spine, stroking over his fur and even getting as far as following the length of his tail before returning to his head. Sam stays still and docile for most of it, only little huffs letting out his general content.

Without any preamble, Dean leans forwards and wraps his arms tight around Sam’s neck. “D’you wanna come home with me?” he’s asking, voice soft and a little muffled in Sam’s fur. “I want you to come home with me, but you gotta be happy, too.”

Sam can’t respond verbally right now, so instead, he opts for turning his head just enough to lick Dean’s face, just a little bit. It earns him a surprised giggle and a tighter hug.

This may be his first time working as a guide, and maybe he has a lot to learn, but he’s got the feeling Dean’s going to make it very easy to enjoy.

Chapter Text

Dean’s humming under his breath as he gets himself dressed, smoothing out the soft fabric where it’s settled on his thighs. It’s light on his skin, soft where it rubs against him. It’s perfect, he decides, and pauses to take one last look in the mirror.

The pastel floral print stands out starkly against the black fabric, and it makes his skin look even lighter than usual, makes his eyes pop. The sleeves are short and capped, and the skirt falls to the middle of his thighs, and it’s perfect in every way. He knows they’re going to love it.

With that in mind, he takes a moment to fluff up his hair before heading out of his room, nearly skipping in his excitement. He’s got no destination in particular, but when he nearly collides with his brother as he turns a corner, it’s not hard to decide where to begin. 

“Sam!” Dean’s barely steady on his feet again before he’s speaking. “Look what I got!”

Sam seems confused for a moment as he looks Dean over, but then he gets an odd look on his face that makes Dean’s stomach twist unpleasantly. “Dean, where’d you get that?” But he doesn’t sound excited. He doesn’t even sound happy.

Dean hesitates with his response, glances down at himself. “The mall,” he replies slowly, like he’s not sure it’s what Sam wants to hear. “Do you like it?”

“Dean, that’s a dress.” Sam’s voice is gentle, but firm. “They’re for girls. Why are you wearing it?”

A frown before Dean replies. “’Cause I like it.”

Sam sighs, straightens up a little. Seems to steel himself. “Dean, you look ridiculous,” he says flatly, even though he doesn’t look like he wants to be saying it. “Go take it off and put something else on, okay?” As if it’ll soften the blow, he’s quick to add on, “you can wear one of my shirts if you want?”

Normally, Dean would jump at the opportunity to steal Sam’s clothing- his brother’s so much bigger than him, and they always smell like home, and they’re warm and soft and safe- but he’s so caught up on the first part of Sam’s response that he can’t process it. Can’t really appreciate the offer.

He doesn’t say anything, just hurries past his brother and tries to fight the tears building in his eyes.

His dad’s in his bedroom, hunched over some work at his desk, and he glances up as Dean comes in. He smiles at first, as his eyes flick up and down the length of Dean’s body, but it fades into something more concerned a moment later.

“Dean, baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is soft, and he pushes out from his desk, opens his arms up wide. 

Dean doesn’t hesitate to run straight to him, climbing up into his lap and curling up tight, a little hiccup escaping his lips. He curls his fingers in his dad’s shirt, closes his eyes, and waits to hear the same comments he got from his brother.

Instead, he feels a hand rubbing gentle circles into his back, smoothing up into his hair a moment later. “What happened?”

Dean sniffles. Tries to gather himself enough to speak. “S-sam said I looked dumb,” he mumbles, pressing closer at just the memory. He breathes in deep, just soaking up his father’s scent to try to calm himself. “’Cause of my dress.”

He can hear the frown in his dad’s voice when he responds. “What?” A pause, and a slight shift like he’s looking around. “Dean, don’t listen to him. Can you look at me?” A hand on his cheek, and Dean’s face is tilted up. He’s crying now, and rough hands wipe the tears off his cheeks. “You look beautiful. I love your dress, okay?”

That has Dean pausing, caught off-guard, and he reaches up to rub at his eyes. “Really?” he asks, uncertain. “But… Sammy said-”

“Don’t listen to him.” His dad’s voice is gentle, and then Dean feels a kiss pressed to his forehead. “You’re gorgeous, baby. I’ll talk to your brother, okay? Don’t worry about what he said.”

Dean’s not sure what talking to Sam will entail- the two of them fight all the time already, and he hates the idea of causing it to get even worse- but right now, he’s warm and safe with his dad’s arms around him, and nothing else really seems to matter.

Chapter Text

It’s a celebration. A hunt pulled off with textbook-level ease, no injuries, no deaths since they showed up to town three days ago. It’s a hell of a success, and they’re out to make the most of it while it lasts.

The bar isn’t anything too fancy, but it has chairs and alcohol and that’s more than enough for Dean. Sam seems pretty happy with it, too, on his third beer and still going strong and sitting close enough that their knees are knocking together under the table (though, admittedly, that might just be because his brother is in possession of some long-ass legs).

“We totally kicked its ass,” Dean’s saying, smacks his hand on the table to emphasize the point. It deserves emphasis, he’s sure. “Thing never even saw us coming, and- and did you see its face when we lit the fire?”

“It had a face?” Sam’s brow furrows in apparent confusion, seems to ponder that for a moment before giving up and taking another swig of his beer. “Looked like a huge lump of fur to me.”

Dean shrugs. It’s not like Sam’s wrong, after all. “It was a huge lump of fur with like, slightly furrier eyebrows, and that’s a face.”

Sam laughs at that, shakes his head and reaches over to pat Dean on the arm. “Whatever you say. I think its face was hiding.”

“Well, I’ll give you one thing.” Dean winks, playful. “Thing needed a haircut even more than you do.”

That sends the both of them into fits of laughter, and maybe three beers was a bit of an underestimation.

There’s more drinking, and more laughing, and more touching than there really should be, Dean’s sure, and eventually they manage to stumble out of the building, clinging to each other to stay upright as they move. 

They’re lucky that the motel is so nearby, because Dean’s pretty sure they wouldn’t have made it very much farther than they manage as is. The lock is a bit of a struggle, but between Sam holding him up and the door offering some measure of support, Dean’s able to get them inside a moment later. 

“That was good.” It’s Sam speaking, pulling the door shut behind him a little too hard and making a face at the sound. “S’good hunt. And- and after, I mean.”

It almost seems odd, the tone in Sam’s voice and how close together they’re standing, but it doesn’t occur to Dean to try and correct it. “Should go out more often,” he agrees, and his eyes are drawn, inexplicably, to Sam’s lips. He can’t decide whether or not they’ve always looked quite this appealing. “S’fun.”

“Yeah.” But Sam sounds distracted now, and Dean wonders what, exactly, he’s looking at, but then he’s leaning in closer and suddenly he’s too close to see properly and then-

-and then Sam’s lips are pressed against his, soft and slow and flavoured with the beer they’d been drinking.

Dean doesn’t take the time to think. Doesn’t take the time to second-guess himself. His chest is light, and he’s still riding his buzz, and Sam’s hands are settling on his hips and pulling him closer, so he wraps his arms around his brother’s neck and kisses him back.

It goes on for a while, lips moving together, a little messy, more erotic than it really has any right to be. Sam’s hands are wide and warm as they slide over Dean’s sides, one moving up until it can cup his face.

They maintain the position even when they break apart, panting softly, eyes closed. Dean doesn’t really want to move, though there’s a dulled sense of something in the back of his mind that tells him he probably should.

“You’re soft.” Dean finally opens his eyes again and catches Sam watching him intently. “Like- all over.”

Dean’s not sure how he feels about that assessment, but Sam’s hands feel good on his skin where they’re sneaking up under his shirt, so he doesn’t feel inclined to correct him.

“M’tired,” is what comes out instead, and a yawn follows shortly after. “C’mon, time for bed. Wanna sleep.”

Sam seems to consider that before nodding seriously and all but dragging Dean over to the closest bed. Without preamble, he tugs the both of them down, and they land in a bit of a heap, all tangled limbs and not enough space, but if Dean’s perfectly honest with himself, he likes it this way.

“Night, Dean.” It’s just a mumble, barely heard against the pillows where Sam’s face is pressed, but his arm is tight around Dean’s waist and Dean can hear his brother’s heart beating, soft breathing against clean fabric.

“Night.” Dean takes a moment to worm a little closer, just breathing in his brother’s scent. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe he’s just tired after the hunt, but it hardly takes any time at all for Dean to fall asleep.

The first thing that Dean’s aware of when he starts to wake up is the arm settled heavy around his waist and the body that’s warm and breathing and curled tight around his.

The second thing is his pounding headache and the fact that he kissed his brother last night.

But even as he tenses up, ready to pull away, get up, do- do something, because this is wrong and he needs to fix it, needs space to breathe-

Sam pulls him a little closer, and a sleepy kiss is pressed to his cheek. “Later, okay?” Sam sounds just as exhausted as Dean feels. “Just… later.”

A moment of consideration, thinking about how nice it is to be curled up close like this and how much he doesn’t want to move…

Dean settles down again, snuggles in closer, and hopes that “later” doesn’t come for a very long time.

Chapter Text

“Dean, come on, let me explain,” Sam’s begging, stepping forward and reaching out like he wants to grab onto his brother.

Dean doesn’t let him. Takes a step back, the letter still clutched tight in his hands. He can’t make them stop shaking. “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”

Sam looks stricken, but the delay in his response is answer enough. “I just- I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Dean’s almost surprised by the bitter laugh that bubbles from his own lips, and it takes a moment to control himself. “You didn’t want to hurt me? By what? Sneaking off in the middle of the night and leaving me a note or something? Abandoning me like- like we don’t mean anything?”

“Dean, I don’t…” Sam takes another step forward. “That’s not what this is about. You know I want to stay with you, I just- I can’t.”

“You can’t.” Dean looks away. Clenches his fists a couple times. Wishes it could be as easy as hitting Sam and moving on with his life. “Because being normal is more important, right?”

“Dean…” That time, Sam does touch him, fingers curling loose in his shirt like his little brother’s five years old again. “I’m sorry, I just… I can’t do this.”

“You’re sorry?” Dean yanks himself away and doesn’t think about the burning in his eyes or the tightness in his throat. “Not good enough. Save it.”

He doesn’t look back when he walks away. It doesn’t stop him from trailing his brother to the bus stop and making sure he’s safe, though, even when his vision blurs with tears he refuses to let fall. He doesn’t think about the hurt on Sam’s face or the desperate way he’d clung to his shirt.

Chapter Text

“C’mon, kid.” The hand is a lot bigger than his, completely envelops it, in fact, but it’s rough and warm and reminds him of his dad’s. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Dean’s still not entirely sure what’s going on, but the man with him had been strikingly familiar from the moment he showed up at the motel- literally minutes after his dad had left for a job, in fact- and after a little bit of talking, it only seemed reasonable to go with him and figure out what was going on. 

“Who is it?” he asks, peeking up. The man’s as tall as his dad, almost, and though he can pick out some similarities, the freckles, green eyes, and sandy hair remind him more of his mom than anyone else. “Do they have food?”

A laugh, and then the guy’s ruffling Dean’s hair. “Probably. Here we are.”

When Dean looks up, he feels like he must’ve missed something. They’ve been walking for no more than a few minutes, but by the look of things, they’ve certainly travelled a lot farther than that should allow. They seem to be on the outskirts of town, and there’s a surprisingly cozy-looking little cabin just ahead, and Dean’s hurrying forward before he can stop himself. 

The guy has no trouble keeping up with him, and he sounds more amused than anything when he laughs again. Soon enough, they’re reaching the door, and it isn’t locked when Dean reaches up to push it open.

The inside of the cabin seems to match the outside while simultaneously outclassing it. The furniture looks new, it’s obviously well-cared for, there’s a fire roaring, and there’s definitely food somewhere in here. Dean can smell it.

But most of his attention is taken up by the man lounging on the couch, the one who glances over at them with golden eyes that reflect the fire before he blinks and they shift into something closer to hazel.

“Dean.” Dean thinks he’s being spoken to for a moment, but the man’s eyes are on the one who’s still holding his hand. “Took you long enough.” A pause, and then Dean is the center of his attention, and he shivers. “Is this seriously why we’re here? You’re awfully narcissistic, you know.”

Dean can’t help the way he’s trying to sneak behind the leg of the guy he’s with- maybe he doesn’t know a whole lot about him, but he hasn’t been hurt so far and that means he’s safe for now- but his attempts are foiled when the guy bends over and scoops him up in his arms, and then they’re crossing the room towards the man on the couch.

“Look at him, though,” the man with green eyes insists, even as Dean tries to burrow himself against his chest. “Isn’t he cute?”

Dean feels someone’s fingers running through his hair a moment later, and he relaxes slowly, almost automatic. “Yeah, alright. I don’t think I appreciated it enough the first time around.”

The words seem odd, and Dean finds himself peeking up from his protective curl, internally relieved that the man’s eyes are still hazel. He doesn’t want to think about what the other colour means. “Who’re you?” he asks, can’t quite help the suspicion in his voice.

A smile, and then the man’s petting his hair again. “D’you know who your friend here is, De?”

Dean pauses, glances back at the man still holding him. “You said you’d tell me when we got here,” he says slowly. “And we’re here now, so you gotta tell me, ‘cause you promised.”

“God, I was the cutest.” For a second, Dean thinks the man’s eyes flash black, but they’re back to bright green a moment later, and he must’ve imagined it, right? “Yeah, I promised. You know about what your dad does, right?”

Dean frowns a little bit. Nods slowly. “He hunts monsters,” he replies solemnly. “And keeps me ‘n Sammy safe.”

The man’s smile looks almost sad, but Dean doesn’t have time to wonder why before he’s speaking again. “Yeah, that’s right. Did you know that time travel is real, too? Just like the monsters your dad hunts.”

Dean’s eyes widen a little at that. “You mean like in Back to the Future?” he asks, can’t keep the wonder out of his voice.

A laugh and a grin and the sadness is gone. “Yeah. Well, consider yourself Marty McFly, ‘cause I’m you, some… twenty years from now.”

For a long moment, Dean tries to process that. It slowly starts to make sense when he puts the pieces together, though, and it explains why the man looks so familiar. “You’re… me?” he repeats slowly, can’t help but reach up and touch the man’s face as though it’ll make it easier to understand. “Really?”

“Yep.” The man- Dean. His name is Dean- glances up, then, towards the other, smiles. “And this is my little brother. Sammy.”

Dean’s eyes get wider, if at all possible, and he twists around in his older self’s arms to face the other man. Tries to connect the image to that of the little boy he’d hugged when he was left at Uncle Bobby’s house. “Sammy?” he breathes out a moment later, in disbelief. “But- but Sammy’s just little!”

That earns him a smile and a shrug, and the guy- Sam, apparently- looks more relaxed. “I got big, kiddo.”

“Very big.” It’s the other Dean speaking, and there’s something in the words that Dean doesn’t really know how to qualify, but it’s gone when he continues. “I’m pretty sure I was never this small. Was I ever this small, Sam?”

“Clearly you were.” Sam’s rolling his eyes. “The evidence is right in front of you, Dean.”

A sigh, and Dean shifts around to look at the older him again. “Yeah? How big were you at this age, Sammy?”

The reminder of his little brother- the one from this time, the one who isn’t a million feet tall- makes Dean tense up a little, and somewhere in the back of his head, it occurs to him that he’s sort of been kidnapped. That’s not really his biggest concern right now, though. “Don’t hurt him!”

The both of them look at him, then, and there’s that sad look in older Dean’s eyes again and something oddly vulnerable in Sam’s. Dean doesn’t get the chance to analyze it, though. 

“We won’t touch him, baby,” Sam’s promising as older Dean hugs him a little tighter and rubs his back. “He’s safe. Don’t worry.”

And as much as Dean knows it’s his job to take care of his little brother- his dad’s made sure that he’s well-aware of that- he finds himself slowly relaxing under their touches and gentle words, and somehow, he feels like maybe this isn’t such a bad thing. After all, if he can’t trust himself and his little brother, who can he?

So Dean reaches out carefully, touches Sam’s hair and marvels over how soft it is. He settles down in his older self’s arms and just lets himself stay right where he is, because it feels surprisingly good to be the center of attention. At least for a little while.

Chapter Text

“Dean…” Sam keeps his voice soft and reaches out, sets a hand on his brother’s arm. “Look, we tried, okay? We just- we can’t save them all, right?”

Dean’s quiet, hunched in on himself where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t look up, but leans into Sam’s touch a little bit. “We could’ve,” he mutters, rubs at his face. “Could’ve moved faster, or- or found the damn grave or something. We could’ve saved her.”

It’s worse than usual this time. It’s far from the first time they’ve lost someone on a job, but it’s rarely ever a kid, and it’s plain as day how hard it is on Dean. Sam’s never really understood Dean’s attachment to kids, but all he needs to know is that it’s hurting him now, and he needs to do something about it.

“We did all we could.” He moves to sit beside Dean, gently pulls his brother against his side. “At least she’ll rest easy, right?” 

Dean takes a shuddering breath, doesn’t seem to hear what Sam’s saying. “God, she was just a kid,” he whispers. “Just- what, eight? Nine?”

Sam doesn’t know how to fix this. Wraps his arms tighter around his brother and tucks Dean’s head under his chin. “We saved all those other kids,” he murmurs. Holds Dean close and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “They’re safe now, Dean. We helped them.”

But sometimes, that isn’t quite good enough, and Sam’s been there. He knows that nothing he says is going to help, and the only thing he can do is hold Dean through it.

His brother presses closer and settles down against his chest. “Can we just… not talk about this right now?”

That’s enough for now, and Sam nods. Closes his eyes. “I’ve got you, Dean. S’okay.”

Maybe they didn’t quite make it this time, but he’s sure they’ll get through it. They always do.

Chapter Text

Dean keeps telling himself that things are going to get normal again. That no matter whether or not his brother has a soul, he’ll go back to being Sam again soon. Back to being overbearing and protective and too damn selfless for his own good.

But every time his brother makes a biting comment, every time he makes a call on a hunt he’d have never even considered the way he normally functions, it becomes more apparent that until they figure out how to fix things, nothing is going to be like it used to.

It’s exactly that knowledge that hardens Dean’s resolve. That convinces him this Sam won’t have any inhibitions- won’t choose based on morality or society’s expectations.

In hindsight, he thinks maybe he should’ve thought it through more than that, but he’s so fixated on his plan that it doesn’t really bother him.

“I need to talk to you.”

Sam’s busy sharpening one of his knives- he spends an awful lot of time on that, Dean’s noticed- and doesn’t look up. “You’re talking. I’m here.”

That’s something else he isn’t used to- the bluntness. Dean doesn’t let it faze hi, though. “I, uh. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. For a while, now, I guess, but… I didn’t really ever find a good time for it.”

That actually has Sam pausing in what he’s doing, and he glances up. There’s something sharp in his eyes, something that never fails to make Dean a little uncomfortable- feels like he’s being examined too closely, too clinically. He shakes it off. Forces himself to continue.

“Since we were kids, I… I’ve had these feelings.” He clears his throat, looks away. It’s harder than he’d anticipated, getting the words out in the open. “About you, I mean.”

“Feelings.” Sam says it with the sort of interest humans have in the way dogs behave. It’s fascinated, but detached. “You’ll have to be more specific, kid.”

Even the endearment feels a little wrong, but Dean ignores it. This is still his brother, no matter how different he might seem. He’s still Sam at his core. 

He has to be.

“Like- romantic. Feelings.” Dean’s sure he’s blushing now, can feel the heat in his cheeks. Ironically, it’s always been his brother who’s better at these conversations, but he can’t imagine Sam saying any of this in his current state. “Feelings like brothers aren’t s’posed to have.” A deep breath, and he manages to finish. “I- I love you. Like more than a brother, Sammy.”

That’s it. The words are out in the open, and he won’t be able to take them back, and now it’s just a matter of how Sam is going to react.

Before Dean even finishes that train of thought, though, between one heartbeat and the next, Sam’s up and moving and then Dean’s being forced backwards, the breath driven out of him when his back hits the wall.

There’s no space between them, no air, and Sam’s lips are on his neck. He feels the vibration when his brother growls out his next words. “Fuck, Dean, all this time tryin’ to be good- trying to do what I was supposed to, yeah? Brothers can’t fuck brothers, that’s against the rules.” There’s contempt in his voice, but Dean’s mostly distracted by the teeth that nip at his skin, the ones that have his breath catching in his throat. 

“You know how goddamn hard it is, seein’ you walking around all the time? Seeing your fucking lips?” And those are Sam’s fingers, tracing over his face, and Dean doesn’t think before parting his lips to let them into his mouth. The way Sam groans is worth it. “And to think, all this time, and you’d have let me, wouldn’t you? Let me bend you over and just take.”

Dean knows this isn’t Sam. Not really. Not like this, and not the way he’s entirely avoided the subject of feelings at all. And he should be hurt, should be upset, should be something-

But all he can think about is that maybe he should just take an example from his big brother and take- whatever it is he can get.

So he sucks on Sam’s fingers and widens his eyes a little and doesn’t do anything to make Sam stop. If nothing else, maybe this will let him play pretend a little longer.

Chapter Text

Dean’s always been a light sleeper, but with Sam the way he is at the moment- nearly predatory in every movement, sharp eyes that make Dean feel all of two inches tall and about as significant as a dust mote- it’s gotten even worse. He barely sleeps a full night at all anymore, so it’s no surprise when he finds himself stirring to some sound or another on the other side of the room.

He doesn’t make much noise as he comes to- mostly just blinks his eyes open and tries to determine what’s responsible for waking him this time. They’re too far from the road for it to have been a car, and the motel they’re in has an almost startling number of vacancies- of course, given the killer werewolves on the loose, maybe that’s understandable- so the chances of it being another patron aren’t high. 

All things considered, he hadn’t been counting on his big brother being the reason for his unexpected consciousness. 

Sam’s hunched over on the couch, his profile lit by the flickering light of the TV and nothing more. The volume’s down low, but not low enough that Dean’s can’t hear someone speaking. He imagines it’s what’d woken him up in the first place.

What really gets him about the whole scene, though, is that Sam looks… troubled. 

It’s an odd expression to see, knowing the state Sam’s in- the lack of a soul hasn’t really allowed Sam a whole lot of opportunity to express much of anything, recently- and it’s got Dean’s attention immediately. He begins to sit up, careful to move slow and silent so he doesn’t disturb his brother.

It takes a few minutes for him to figure out what Sam’s watching, but even once he does, it doesn’t really help him understand what he’s looking at. Not at first.

It must be Discovery or something, because it sounds and looks like a million other documentaries he’s seem Sam watch. Judging by the images he’s seeing and the subtitles scrolling across the bottom of the screen- Sam must’ve turned them on; the volume’s low even for someone directly in front of the set- it’s about childhood development. Something about emotional ranges.

“Children develop trust before they can even speak properly.” Dean startles as his brother speaks up, and once he’s gathered himself, he wonders how long Sam’s known he’s awake. “They test things out. Figure out what’s safe, what isn’t. Who they can feel safe with, you know?”

A pause, and Sam glances over his shoulder towards Dean, and Dean’s dumbstruck, because this right here is the closest that Sam’s looked to the big brother he knows since this all started. There’s something like sadness- something that imitates sadness, at the very least- in his eyes, the set of his shoulders. Dean wonders if he’s learning to mimic better.

“Toddlers know this better than I do, Dean. They just-” He turns back to the TV, makes a frustrated sound. “This shouldn’t be hard, right? Trust. Emotions. They should be easy.”

He reaches out to turn off the TV, then, rubbing at his face roughly a moment later. Dean’s still watching him, silent and uncertain. He doesn’t know how to handle Sam like this, not when he doesn’t even know where to begin to- what? Comfort him?

But then Sam’s getting up and heading over on his own accord, so that’s a little easier.

“You make it seem so easy.” Sam’s voice is softer as he gets closer, sits on the edge of Dean’s bed. “You feel so much, you know? I can see it. When we’re on a job, or when you miss me. Miss who I used to be, I guess.” He reaches out, fingertips trailing over Dean’s cheek, and Dean leans into it. Closes his eyes. “It’s just- why can’t it be easy?”

Dean shuffles a little bit closer, figures he’s got nothing to lose right now. “You’re here with me now, right?” He waits for a nod before continuing. “’Cause you want to be. Because you trust me. Right?”

There’s a moment of hesitation, then a slow nod. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Trust needs some emotion, right?” Maybe Dean’s stretching this too far, but he doesn’t care. Needs to get that look off his brother’s face. “You’re putting me in charge of keeping you safe, kinda. Or at least not putting you in danger myself.”

“I put myself in danger enough for the both of us.” But Sam’s smiling a little bit, and Dean smiles in return, tucks himself under Sam’s arm. “I don’t get it. Why it’s important, I mean. But I just- it’s supposed to be easy.”

“Lots of stuff’s supposed to be easy.” Dean thinks it’s supposed to be easy to have a big brother, but not like this. Not when he wants to cuddle up close and give Sam a kiss to make him feel better. “Doesn’t mean it is.”

Sam ends up staying in his bed that night. Dean’s pretty sure he doesn’t sleep, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s a warm body and a steady heartbeat and his brother’s warm embrace.

Chapter Text

Sam’s got no idea why he has this need. It’s not like breathing, or eating, or drinking. It’s not even like sleeping (not that he needs to do that anymore). It’s this entirely separate thing, something that resides in the back of his mind and whispers mine every time he looks at Dean.

But he doesn’t care. He shouldn’t. Not when it’s so easy to let that vampire grab Dean.

(shouldn’t be touching him, Sam’s going to cut the fucker’s hands off before they finish this hunt-)

Not when he’ll do anything to further his own self-interest. Sam’s got nothing to gain, keeping Dean to himself. Not really.

(nothing but everything, nothing but that feeling he aches for, that love-lust-need that he misses so goddamn bad-)

But it doesn’t make it go away. It doesn’t make it change, because god, Dean is his. He doesn’t understand why, but there’s this stupid thing between them, and he can’t ignore it. He can’t let his brother be with anyone else.

(not lisa or ben or samuel or bobby or heaven or hell or-)

Dean’s his, and that’s all that matters.

(mine mine mine mine mine-)

Chapter Text

It’s been a rough few days, and it’s getting progressively more difficult to spend time around Sam for very long. It’s almost chilling, being in his presence, and Dean needs a goddamn break.

It also just so happens that they’re running low on cash, and maybe it’s been a while since he’s offered himself for money- he hadn’t gotten involved in any of it since he and Sam had gotten together properly, but things were different now in a way he couldn’t really qualify- but he knows his way around the business all the same.

It seems a little ironic to compare it to riding a bike, so he tries to avoid thinking about it that way.

All things considered, it’s not difficult to find a place willing to take him- he’s lucky this place is big enough to have its own little red light district- and he’s led to a room in the back. Tries not to wrinkle his nose at water-damaged ceilings and cracked paint on the walls. It’s certainly not the Hilton, but it’s enough for his purposes, and he convinces himself that’s the important part.

His take is eighty percent- it’s more than most places would bother with; he wonders if he’s attractive enough that they think the extra business will make up for it- and he’s settled in his room a few minutes later with the limited list of rules circling around in his head. Take care of yourself. Not my problem if they get too rough. You fight, you lose your take. Try to keep looking pretty.

It’s better than he got as a kid, anyways.

Dean hears the floorboards creaking in the hallway before the person- his customer, probably- gets anywhere near the door, and it gives him time to get good and comfortable. Sitting on the edge of the bed, legs splayed just enough to be alluring without being obvious, a tiny smirk. Hooded eyes. He’ll probably end up bent in half being plowed into the headboard, but at least he can try to make a good first impression.

When the door opens and Sam’s the one behind it, there’s a long moment where Dean just stops processing altogether.

Maybe it’s the soulless thing, but Sam get a hold of himself a lot faster than Dean does.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Dean sits up a little straighter, bristling. “Could ask you the same question. The hell do you want a hooker for?”

“Since when are you a hooker?” Sam shoots back, and alright, maybe it’s a fair point. “Seriously, Dean? You’re this desperate for it?”

Dean clenches his jaw, moves to his feet. “Look, either you do what you came here to do, or get out. I’m not wasting my time here for free.” A snort. “Lot of other guys who’d pay to be here.”

Dean isn’t sure what it is that sets Sam off, but he’s not prepared when his brother’s eyes darken or when he crosses the room and shoves Dean back down onto the bed. Climbs on top of him without hesitation and pins him down.

“That why you’re here, Dean?” Sam’s voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it that has Dean fighting a shiver. Squirming a little in place. “You like the attention? Like it when you’ve got guys falling over themselves to fuck you?” A snort, and Sam shakes his head. “It’s pathetic.”

“Right, like you’re one to talk.” Dean glares at his brother, bucks a little underneath him. “You came here looking for someone to fuck because- what? Because you couldn’t hook up with someone without having to pay them?”

Sam’s eyes narrow, and he presses down hard against Dean, hips rolling sharply. “Not like you were gonna turn around and bend over for me, were you?”

That’s enough to catch Dean by surprise, and it takes him a moment to respond. “Thought we… weren’t.” He can’t think of how to phrase it, doesn’t know how he’d even begin to qualify their relationship. The one they have now; how it used to be. There aren’t words.

“What? Because I don’t have a soul?” Sam leans in close, and Dean tilts his head back on instinct when he feels a brush of lips at his pulse point. “Because I’m not your precious little Sammy?”

Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe Dean’s just trying to deny himself. Maybe this feels too much like cheating on his brother, but all he can think about now is Sam’s touch, the way hie weight is pressing him hard into the bed. The immobility is oddly comforting.

“Because you haven’t been interested.” If Dean’s voice is a little breathy, he doesn’t let himself care. “You’ve been so damn busy with the job, you don’t even look at me anymore-”

“Look at you all the damn time.” Sam’s hands have started shoving clothes out of the way, and Dean isn’t inclined to stop him. “Can’t stop looking. ‘Specially when you’re doing shit like this.”

There’s nothing separating them but skin soon enough, and Dean doesn’t hesitate to press up into his brother. Only pauses long enough to fumble for the lube he brought himself, presses it into Sam’s hand. “Then you should’ve just done somethin’ about it, dumbass.”

That earns Dean a sharp nip to his earlobe, and Sam’s pushing his legs apart a moment later. “What do you think I’m doing right now?” he breathes into Dean’s skin, and Dean’s not sure when the lube opened, but Sam’s pushing two fingers inside seconds later.

Dean doesn’t offer any resistance, spreads his legs wide and moans like the whore he’s supposed to be right now. He feels no shame; Sam’s seem him at his best and his worst, and this isn’t going to change anything between them. He doubts his brother can work up the emotion needed to care, anyways.

“That’s what I thought.” It’s awfully close to sounding smug as two fingers turns into three, working Dean open fast and dirty with no time or regard for extra pleasure. “This is what you wanted, right? All this time, just needed someone to pin you down and fuck you. Should’ve known.”

And it should be degrading, Dean’s sure. Should make him wonder if this is all Sam wants him for now. But it’s his brother, soul or no soul, and if there’s one thing he’s never been able to do, it’s say no to Sammy.

So he doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t defend himself, he doesn’t try to explain- again- to this version of Sam that it hurts. That all he wants is to have his baby brother back the way he’s supposed to be. He knows Sam won’t understand, so why does it even matter now?

It’s so much easier to just lie back and take it. To cling tight as Sam grabs his hips and pushes in, groans and starts fucking him at a near-brutal pace. It’s so much easier to just take what he can get right now, and for the moment, that’s Sam’s body and his attention.

The rest, Dean thinks somewhere in the back of his mind, will come back to him later. He’s sure of it.

Chapter Text

It’s been two days now since the older him left to go “take care of something,” and Dean’s starting to get worried.

Growing up with his dad the way he is, he’s used to being disappointed in this sense, but it doesn’t make it any easier knowing that he’s out there somewhere on his own. Hunting alone isn’t safe, Dean knows, but Sam had insisted on staying behind to take care of him.

The only comforting thing about this situation, as it turns out, is how completely unfazed Sam seems to be about the whole thing.

He goes about his business as usual, flipping through whatever book he picks up, watching Dean when he thinks Dean isn’t looking. If anything, it’s a little boring hanging around like this, and Dean isn’t sure what to do.

Since he was picked up, he’s been spending most of his time with his older self. Sam’s been keeping his distance, though if there’s a reason for it, Dean doesn’t know what it is. 

But there must be something different about today, because while Dean’s distracted trying to figure out how to reach the top shelf in the fridge without asking for help- he can do it by himself, he’s absolutely sure- Sam sneaks up behind him and scoops him up in his arms, nudging the fridge closed with his hip as he turns to head towards the couch.

Dean blinks a few times, caught off-guard, but does noting to fight the hold. Settles himself down and peeks up at Sam. He finds himself looking for similarities, trying to compare this Sam to the one he knows. There isn’t a whole lot he can pick out besides the colouring, and even that must’ve changed a little over the years.

He’s distracted from the train of thought when Sam sits down and he’s set down in Sam’s lap properly, ends up curled up against his chest just because there’s nowhere else to go. It’s far from uncomfortable, but he’s still a little bit wary, uncertain. Doesn’t know what to expect from this Sam quite yet.

Sam reaches up with one hand, and Dean’s leaning into the touch before it even makes contact, a wide palm and long fingers sliding through his hair. “You miss Dean, huh?”

Dean’s eyes have slipped shut of their own accord, but he nods. There’s no point lying; he has a feeling he wouldn’t be able to even if he tried. 

The reminder of the older Dean’s absence just has Dean sniffling again, trying not to wonder the way he does about his dad. He tries not to think about all the worst-case scenarios, the possibility that Dean might not come home at all.

But then Sam’s tipping his head up, just a little bit, and Dean opens his eyes, reaches up to rub at them as Sam speaks. “D’you want to play a game?”

It’s so out of left field that Dean doesn’t know how to respond for a moment. Tilts his head to the side. “What kinda game?”

“A silly game.”

An unexpected response, but a welcome one, Dean decides. He nods slowly, murmurs something vaguely affirmative. 

Sam smiles, and then one big hand is cupping Dean’s, guiding it upwards, towards his face. He unfolds one of Dean’s fingers, extends it, and uses it to poke himself in the nose. 

Right as his fingertip makes contact, Sam’s eyes flash white- there’re threads of gold coming in from the edges, and it almost makes them glow. Dean can’t help but jump with surprise, his own eyes going a little bit wide.

He still isn’t quite sure what Sam is. What his little brother became in those twenty-something years since he was the little boy Dean last saw a week ago. He doesn’t know what happened to cause this, and as a result, he doesn’t know what to make of Sam as he is now. 

Before he can say anything, though, before he can even try to squirm away, Sam’s speaking. His voice is soft and oddly compelling, and Dean can’t bring himself to look away, traces gold lines with his eyes.

“I know you’re scared of me.” One hand stroking through Dean’s hair again, the other settled wide on his hip. “And I know I look different than you’re used to. But I’m still Sammy, okay? No matter what.” A bit of a smile, and Dean finds himself even more drawn to it. “And that means I’m always gonna watch out for my big brother. No matter how little he is at the time.”

Dean’s all but bursting with warmth at the title- the knowledge that even now, Sam’s still thinking of him as his big brother- and he can’t help the smile that grows on his face to match Sam’s. Slow and careful, he brings a hand up and gently pokes Sam’s nose again. They flash back to hazel, Sam grins, and Dean giggles.

Dean feels Sam relax a little underneath him, and it’s not until now that he realizes how tense he’d been. “Still scared of me?”

He takes a moment to consider that, then slowly shakes his head. “Your eyes are cool,” he adds almost shyly. “They’re pretty.”

“Yeah?” Sam’s smile grows, and he squeezes Dean’s hip. “They’re pretty neat. You wanna see something else, though?”

Dean doesn’t even hesitate before nodding, eyes a little wide, eagerness plain as day in his face. Before he can even ask what Sam wants to show him, he feels suddenly weightless, and he lets out a surprised squeak when he realizes that he’s floating.

Sam’s hands are still steady on him, and the man’s grinning madly, watching him. “Cool, right?”

Dean definitely needs to find out what happened, but until then, he’s more than happy to just let go and play with his big-little brother.

Chapter Text

If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say that his brother is moping.

It wasn’t a terribly rare thing to see back when he still had his soul- Sam’s always been good at pouting and doing the sad eyes, and Dean’s no stranger to their power- but since coming back from hell, he’s been all hard edges and cold stares, no room for the sort of emotional displays he’s put on in the past.

But here he is, hunched over on the couch with a furrow in his brow and a frown on his face. Dean can’t resist the urge to approach.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” he asks, wanders over and leans against the arm of the couch. “Finally got tired of all that not-sleeping?”

Sam doesn’t look up, stays right where he is. “I can’t remember.”

Dean’s got another joke on the tip of his tongue when he actually notices the tone of his brother’s voice. It’s frustrated, almost distressed. Curiosity shifts into concern, and he slowly sits down beside Sam, fumbles for something to say. “Can’t remember what?”

“What it used to be like. With you, I mean.” Sam does look up then, and his eyes are intense, searching Dean’s face with a sort of desperation that doesn’t fit anything Dean knows about this version of his brother. “I just- I remember it. The things that happened. What we did together. But it’s… it feels wrong.”

This is something they haven’t talked about, and it’s got Dean sitting up a little straighter, attentive and worried. Their relationship has been far from normal since Sam got back from Hell, something closer to “brothers with benefits” than what they used to have. He hadn’t known that Sam cared about what it used to be at all.

“Wrong,” he repeats for lack of something else to say. “Wrong how?”

“They feel flat.” Sam looks away again and rubs at his forehead, makes a frustrated sound. “Like- like they’re all in black and white.” There’s a long pause, and he’s quiet when he continues. “I can’t- I can’t remember how it felt, I guess. Maybe ‘cause I can’t feel at all anymore.”

It makes a kind of sense. Dean can’t imagine what it’s like to be without emotion, but imagines that remembering emotion would be difficult without experiencing it to begin with. All the same, it’s an issue, because Sam’s upset- as upset as he can be, anyways- and it’s his responsibility to fix it.

“Do you… want me to tell you about it?” he asks, slow and hesitant. Ready for rejection. He’s never been good with words, but he’s ready to do just about whatever it takes to get that look off of Sam’s face. “I mean- I could try.”

There’s a long moment of silence between them, and Sam looks almost wary, but he nods slowly. Shifts a fraction of an inch closer. “Yeah. Alright.”

As surprised as he is, Dean tries not to let it show on his face. Struggles to figure out where to start. “It- it’s a pretty constant thing. Like- you’d think it would go away, when we’re not together, but it doesn’t.” He clears his throat, manages a slightly sheepish smile. “I guess I think about you a lot, whether I’m thinking about it or not, you know?” 

Sam nods slowly. Fidgets a little bit. “I guess, yeah.”

It seems like all he’s going to get, so Dean continues a moment later. “And it’s always kind of- god, I sound like a chick- it’s really warm, you know? Like… I don’t know. Seeing you smile. Dimples and shit. ‘Specially when it’s because of me.” 

This is getting a little more mushy than he’s comfortable with, but Sam’s listening intently, shuffling a little closer, so he doesn’t stop. “But it wasn’t just that, either. Sometimes- sometimes it was more like… sudden. Like, one minute I’d look at you, and it just hits me that you’re mine. That I love you a lot. That you’re okay with that.” A pause, and he rubs at the back of his neck. His skin’s warm, and he thinks he must be blushing. “Or when we’d do anything. Kiss. Whatever. It’d be even more, like- like fireworks. Like when we were kids. Remember?”

“Yeah.” Sam’s voice is soft, startlingly close, and Dean realizes his brother’s moving again, shifting to rest his head on his shoulder. “I remember.” 

Dean slowly puts an arm around Sam, rests his cheek in his brother’s hair. It feels good to just hold him again, to feel like he’s doing something useful. Speaks softly. “Like now, it’s just- it’s like this warmth, right in my chest. Like this is all I’m ever gonna want. Or need.”

Sam presses a little closer and breathes in deep. Lets it out slowly. “Thanks, Dean.” He feels his brother’s lips brush against his pulse point, holds him a little tighter. “Just- thanks.”

Dean doesn’t respond, but presses his lips to the top of Sam’s head. Maybe this isn’t the brother he knows, but there’s that tiny reassurance that Sam’s still in there. It’s enough for now.

Chapter Text

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Sammy doesn’t respond- can’t right now, not with the gag in his mouth- but there’s lust in his eyes and a muffled moan, and the way he arches up, trying to rock down against the vibrator is answer enough.

Sam grins, presses it in a little deeper. Makes sure the cock ring’s still in place before reaching over towards the bedside table, fingers curling around the hilt of his knife. It’s something he’s been saving, something he hadn’t been sure about introducing to the kid at first, but he’s taken so well to everything else that Sam really just can’t resist.

“I’m gonna take the gag out, okay?” Sam waits for a nod before continuing. “And we’re gonna try something else. You sure as hell love it later on.”

After unstrapping the gag, slow and careful, moving it off to the side, Sam straddles his younger counterpart’s chest, makes sure not to put too much weight on it. Asphyxiation can come later, he thinks, but he doesn’t want to hurt Sammy. Not like this, anyways.

“You’re gonna open wide and drink up. Sound good, baby?” He doesn’t wait this time, brings the knife to his own arm and makes a shallow cut. Watches until it starts welling up with blood.

Sammy looks confused, a little wary. Stays quiet as he’s been instructed, right until the wound is pressed to his mouth. “I- like this? Later?”

Sam might not be a demon, so the circumstances aren’t quite the same, but a little white lie never hurt anybody. 

“Yeah. A fuckin’ slut for it.”

Even as Sammy’s cheeks go pink, it seems to be enough of an answer, because he’s parting his lips, and Sam groans at the feeling of the kid’s tongue flicking over the cut, tentative.

“There you go,” he breathes, free hand coming up to grip at Sammy’s hair and holding him in place. “Fuck, kid, just like that. Drink up, baby.”

As he pulls his arm away, Sam wonders what their brother would think, seeing this young version of him, lips stained with blood and pupils blown with lust. Wonders how he’d feel about it. What he would do.

Decides that Dean doesn’t matter right now and leans in to kiss Sammy hard and deep. This may be as close to selfish as he’s ever going to get, and damn if he isn’t going to use it.

Chapter Text

Three weeks. They’ve been going three weeks like this, tense and on-edge and snappish. Trying to pull away from each other, but constantly forced apart.

It’s for the best, Dean had convinced him. Healthier for them both. Morally sound. Everything that Sam had needed to hear; every one of his own insecurities laid out in front of him. Being together was wrong, anyways; they were brothers. Not lovers. Not soulmates. None of it.

It’s harder to believe now that it’s so hellish being apart, and Sam isn’t even ashamed of himself when he breaks.

It’s at the motel, and he’s been watching Dean with hunger in his eyes. Can’t look away, especially not when his brother’s lips wrap around the neck of his beer bottle. It’s beyond distracting, and that’s when his resolve fails.

Gets up, crosses the room. Doesn’t even stop to listen to Dean’s startled protest before hauling his brother in for a kiss, too much teeth but entirely Dean and that’s what he’s here for.

“I don’t care how unhealthy it is,” he breathes. Catches Dean’s lower lip between his teeth. “Doesn’t matter. I need you.”

If Dean has anything to say to that, it’s expressed in the way he yanks Sam down to kiss him back.

It’s not like they’re ever been very healthy to begin with, anyways.

Chapter Text

Sam lets his eyes linger on his brother for a moment, smiles at the way he’s got Sammy pinned to the bed. The kid isn’t resisting anymore, eyes half-lidded as he laps at the cut Dean’s made on his arm.

It’d been Dean’s idea in the first place to come back here, to give their younger selves a head start on everything that was to come- but hey, they might as well have some fun while they’re around, right?

Deciding to turn his attention back to the younger version of his brother, Sam grins. Spreads his fingers wide again and hooks the three of them slightly to tug at the younger Dean’s rim. The kid’s all wide eyes and freckles, not grown into sharp angles yet, hair a little too long and face a little too pretty.

Sam doesn’t have a problem with “too pretty.” Not when it’s his twink of a big brother spread out underneath him, opening up so damn perfectly.

“Take it like a pro, don’t you?” he coos, slowly easing a fourth finger in. “Bet you never even thought to ask for this, did you? Didn’t think little baby Sammy would let you.”

Dean looks kind of like he wants to reply, so Sam cuts him off with a hard rub to the prostate, grins at the way he cries out. Sees the way Dean’s eyes go straight to his little brother, anxious and confused.

Not scared, at least. He’s got something in order, anyways.

“But that’s what I’m here for, right?” Sam’s working four fingers in and out now at a steady pace, curling and spreading and watching with fascination as Dean opens up for him. “Me and my brother, we’re gonna give you two everything you were always afraid to ask for. Everything you don’t even know you want yet.” He pauses, winks. “We’ll keep Daddy busy. Don’t worry.”

Dean’s eyes widen as if it’s the first he’s thought about John since this started- Sam wouldn’t be surprised- and he shakes his head quickly. “Don’t- he can’t see you two, can’t see this, he just- he can’t. Please.”

Instead of giving that a response- as if Sam would rat either of them out to their father- he tucks his thumb in against his palm and slowly, slowly starts sliding it in.

But god, is it ever a sight to see. Dean’s rim, pink and swollen, stretching around his fingers, his knuckles. Soon enough, it passes the widest part and it’s so damn easy to slide the rest of the way in, right until Sam is literally up to the wrist in the kid’s ass.

He lets out a pleased sigh. Glances over to where their respective counterparts are and sees his Dean, eyes black like obsidian, lips locked with Sammy’s and a hand tight in his hair. The other traces shapes in crimson, smears them into Sammy’s skin.

Sam decides then and there that they’re damn well staying here until they’ve had their fix- all four of them.

Chapter Text

Dean covers his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh. He’s not sure how effective it is, because Sam pouts and crosses skinny arms across his chest.

“Seriously? Of all the shit that witch could’ve done, they made you into a little kid?” Dean asks, sitting down on the edge of the nearest bed. He’s at eye level with his brother, now, and it has him stifling a snicker. “Dude, she totally just wanted to mess with you.”

“It’s not funny, Dean.” It’s obvious that Sam’s trying to use his No Nonsense Voice- the one that comes out when he’s lecturing Dean, mostly- but it’s coming out of a mouth that looks all of fourteen years old, and the effect isn’t quite the same. “We need to figure out how to fix this.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it for a little while first.” Dean grins, reaches up to ruffle Sam’s hair just because he can. It’s long and soft, and he lingers there, pets at it absently. “You were a pretty cute kid, y'know. And hey, I’m finally taller than you for once.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Enjoy it while you can. We need to look into this. We don’t know what might happen, or how long it’ll last-”

“And maybe it wears off all on its own.” Dean can’t resist anymore, reaches forward and grabs his brother- Christ, but Sam was tiny at this age- and hauls him closer, into his lap. Snuggles him. “Seriously, how were you ever this tiny? I’m pretty sure you were bigger than this.”

Sam squirms around a bit before settling down with a sigh. “You were smaller than me anyways. S'just your perspective messing it up, Dean.”

“Yeah, whatever. You were tiny.” Dean presses a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “Now how about you let me enjoy this for a while, and maybe we can go deal with that witch once you’re legal again. Cool?”

Sam doesn’t look terribly impressed with that, but he heaves another sigh and nods. “Fine, whatever.” A pause. “I’m not even that small.”

The way his voice cracks during the sentence just makes it even better, and Dean laughs again. If being the big brother for a little while means getting to enjoy Sam like he is now, then he’ll gladly deal with it.

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Sam’s been living with his demon brother for two months now, and things are… surprisingly unchanged.

They still live in the bunker. They still hunt. Hell, Dean still spends an unhealthy and mildly concerning amount of time with his car. It’s almost absurdly normal- or as close to absurdly normal as their lives ever get. 

He’s been on edge for months, waiting for the other shoe to drop- for Dean to snap, to hurt someone to kill him in his sleep or something- but that day never comes. The closest he gets is the occasional seemingly out-of-character comment that comes off more unfiltered than actually evil.

When something finally does happen, it’s far from anything Sam might’ve expected.

“You never touch me anymore.”

It’s a conversational tone, and Sam glances up from where he’s settled at the kitchen table. Dean’s making dinner- just more normalcy, and it’s still a little startling to see him at the stove, swaying his hips a little as he cooks- and doesn’t even glance over. It catches Sam off-guard, and he doesn’t really know how to respond.

“Y’know, like you used to.” Dean continues on, apparently unfazed by the lack of a response. “All the time. Couldn’t keep your damn paws off me before this happened.” He does look over then, and his eyes are flooded black. Sam doesn’t flinch this time- he’s finally starting to get used to it- and then Dean blinks, and they’re back to green. “So what gives? Demon doesn’t do it for you anymore?”

The reminder of Ruby has Sam frowning, and he needs to remind himself that Dean doesn’t really try to be sensitive anymore. In fact, it’s the only thing that’s really changed about him at all. “Dean, that’s… what are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Dean turns to lean back against the counter. His eyes are still green, and for a moment, it’s easy to imagine that nothing’s changed. “We used to be together. Have something. So why don’t we anymore?”

Sam shrugs. Hesitates before standing up and moving a little closer towards Dean. “You- you want that? Seriously? I thought-”

“What, that being a demon made me not want you to fuck me on the regular?” Dean raises an eyebrow. “Or any of the rest of it? C’mon, Sam, I’m still the same guy. Just with some new perks.”

Dean’s the one moving now, stepping forward quick and smooth until there’s hardly any space between them at all. “So do you or do you not want to kiss me right now?” he asks bluntly. 

Sam blinks, startled. Tries to reason his way out of this.

Ends up leaning in and grabbing Dean’s hips and kissing him, instead.

If he tastes the distant tang of sulphur, he chooses to ignore it right now. All that matters is having his brother back, and there’s no point trying to fight it any more.

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It’s just a matter of spotting the right person. Someone looking for a fun night, no strings attached, and willing to pay whatever he can get out of them for it. If it means more money to keep them in a motel instead of in the back of the car- Dean’s in no shape to sleep like that, and they need to be in top condition for whichever hunt they run into next- then it isn’t going to be a problem doing it.

His eyes are skimming over the other bar patrons, skipping over the men who are too stoic or the women who are there with too many friends. It needs to be quick, it needs to be easy, it needs to be-


Dean’s walking into the bar, and he’s not wearing his sling- for god’s sake, Sam told him he needed to wear the damn sling- and his eyes are roaming around, and Sam doesn’t get the chance to move out of sight before their eyes lock and Dean’s narrow.

It takes him longer than usual to navigate through the bar- Sam knows his shoulder is hurting him, he can see it, and god, his brother is such an idiot sometimes- but soon enough, Dean’s in front of him. Moves to cross his arms across his chest, but then winces and lets them hang at his sides. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing out of bed?” Sam counters, raising his eyebrows a little bit. “You’re hurt, and you’re just going to make it worse. You really want to be out of commission even longer?”

Dean apparently elects to ignore that. “I thought you were gonna ‘take care of it’?”

Sam shrugs. Leans back against the wall behind him. “I am. It’ll be easier if you’re not here.”

“How is standing around in a seedy bar ‘taking care of it’?”

“Someone’s gonna want to pay for sex. Safer and easier than hustling.” Another shrug, and Sam takes a moment to inspect the odd look on Dean’s face. “What?”

“Sam, you don’t have to-” A moment of hesitation, and Dean clears his throat. Straightens up a little. “Just play pool or something, man. Not this.”

Sam frowns at that, tilts his head as he watches his brother. Takes note of the uncomfortable look on Dean’s face and the way he won’t look him in the eyes. “Are you upset?” A pause, and a realization. “Are you jealous?”

Dean’s jaw tightens, so Sam knows he’s right. “Shut up.”

Sam rolls his eyes. Straightens up off the wall and takes Dean’s uninjured arm as he heads for the door, tugging his brother with him. “You need to rest. We’re going back to the room.”

Dean stumbles on the first step, but he’s keeping up a moment later. “I’m not-”

“Don’t care.” Sam gives him an amused look over his shoulder. “We’re going back.”

Making money can wait, he decides.

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“Right around here, kid,” the guy’s saying, jerks his chin towards the massive enclosure they’re approaching. “Sam’s gonna meet you here. He’ll show you around, introduce you. All that crap.”

Dean nods slowly, eyes skimming over the walls, up to the barbed wire along the top. Down to the sectioned-off cage where he’s being directed. “Yeah, okay.”

So he steps forward, curls his fingers in the bars. Tries to get a look inside. 

He sees the raptors first, and even now, it’s a little startling to see them up close. 

The one closest to the gate is golden-brown, and she looks too gentle, tilts her head and clicks softly at whoever she’s looking at. Steps towards someone. Dean turns his attention to the man standing among the raptors, who’s moving carefully back towards the gate. It’s a quick movement as he steps out of the enclosure, pushes the gate shut behind him. Turns to face Dean.

It takes Dean a moment to remember how to breathe, because fuck, the guy’s gorgeous. 

There’s dirt smudged on his face, his skin is golden-brown, his eyes are bright and attentive. They’re focused right on Dean a moment later, and then he’s smiling, and Dean is fucked. 

“You must be Dean.” His voice only makes it worse, and god, Dean hopes he doesn’t look as dumbstruck as he feels. “I’m Sam. I’m in charge of the raptors here.”

It takes Dean a few tries to make his voice work. “Um- yeah. Dean. That’s- yeah. Me.” He clears his throat, glances down and rubs at the back of his neck. Pretends not to notice the amusement on Sam’s face. “Nice t’meet you.”

When Dean peeks up again, he’s startled to see Sam quite a bit closer than before, his smile shifting into one that’s more relaxed. “C’mon. You wanted to meet the raptors, right? I bet Baby’s gonna love you.”

Sam grabs his arm and leads him for the gate and starts chattering about his raptors like they’re his children. Dean thinks he might be in love.

He is so, so fucked.

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It’s when he sees Sam resting with a hand on his lower stomach, rubbing gently and looking like he just watched a puppy get hit by a car, that Dean figures out something’s up.

He heads over, plops down in the chair beside his brother. Just watches him for a moment before speaking. “You alright?”

It seems to startle Sam a little, who looks up and pulls his hand away from his stomach like he’s been burned. He looks almost guilty, and Dean decides he needs to get to the bottom of this. “Fine, I just- zoned out. Sorry.”

“Bull.” Dean shifts his chair closer, reaches out to press his hand against Sam’s forehead. “You sick or somethin’?”

That earns an eye-roll, and Sam pushes his hand away. “No. I’m fine, it’s just…” He hesitates, glances down. Towards his belly, Dean guesses. “D'you ever think about kids?”

It’s not hard to recognize that this isn’t the time for jokes- he has a feeling it’d just shut Sam down- so Dean just nods slowly. “Having them, you mean? I guess. Why?”

Another moment of shifting around from Sam, a deep breath. He rushes his words when he speaks again. “I wish I could have your kids for you.”

It catches Dean off-guard, and he blinks a couple times, takes a moment to process that. “You mean… get pregnant?”

Sam swallows hard. Looks down. “Yeah, it’s pretty lame, huh?” He laughs a bit, but it sounds forced. “S'just- I don’t know. Thought about it when I was a kid, too. When I always said I was gonna marry you.”

Dean watches his brother for a long moment, then carefully slides down off of his chair and kneels in front of Sam. Nudges his way between his brother’s legs. “This been bugging you?”

“Uh- yeah. I guess.” Sam looks a little confused, but doesn’t resist as Dean inches closer, brings a hand up to stroke through his hair. “What are you-?”

Dean uses one hand to push Sam’s shirt up and out of the way, then leans forward to press a kiss to his belly, fleeting and gentle. “We can have kids someday. Hell, if we look hard enough, I bet we could even find a way to get you to have ‘em.” A couple more kisses, and he peeks up at his brother. “Witches are crazy. Bet one of 'em has something like that.”

Sam looks surprised, then like he’s fighting a smile. Cups Dean’s cheek and finally lets it through. “You really think so?”

“Yeah.” Dean leans into Sam’s touch, hums softly. “We’ll figure it out, yeah? Like we always do.”

“We’re not always trying to get me pregnant.” But Sam’s still smiling, and that’s what matters. “I love you. You know that?”

“Yeah.” One more kiss, right above Sam’s navel. Sam’s fingers brush through his hair, and Dean hums softly. “Love you, too, kiddo.”

Chapter Text

“Dean, c’mon.” 

Sam’s breaking character again, but that’s really not Dean’s biggest concern right now. He’s got his brother pinned to the bed, hovering over him, both of them halfway undressed, but it feels wrong. The power shift, the hurt sounds Sam makes every time Dean tries to be rough, to force something- it all feels too goddamn real, and even now, he can’t look at his brother.

“It’ll help.” Sam breaks Dean’s grip on his wrists easily- it’s gone slack with another moment of indecision- and then there’s a hand cupping his cheek, a thumb brushing his lips. “It’ll put you in control, right? That’s what you need. And it’s what I want.”

“But-” Dean hesitates, doesn’t open his eyes. Takes a deep breath. “Why can’t we just go with you wanting it for real?”

“I do, though,” he insists. Brings a hand to pull Dean closer, pressing them against each other. “You know that. I’ve got a safeword, and I know you can do this. It’ll be good, Dean.”

But the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks of Hell- the more he thinks of how goddamn ecstatic he was every day that it wasn’t his baby brother on that rack- the more Dean’s decision solidifies.

“No.” He sits up, pulls his hands away from his brother. Looks down at Sam uncertainly. “I just- I can’t, alright?”

Dean doesn’t hear Sam’s call of his name, concerned, gets up and slides out of bed. Runs a shaky hand through his hair on the way to the bathroom. 

At least it wasn’t Sammy, he reminds himself. It wasn’t. And it’s never going to be.

Chapter Text

It’s rare that they have time for this kind of thing- quick and dirty is their go-to, because there’s no telling whether they’ll both be alive the next day- but the paranormal world has been almost too quiet recently, and it doesn’t come as much of a surprise when they find themselves trying to make the most of the situation.

Dean\’s already settled in his brother’s lap, straddling him while they kiss, hands under clothes and breath coming short. There’s none of the rushed panic that Dean usually associates with these moment, none of the desperation that comes with being together after a hunt, reassuring each other that they’re both still in one piece.

But now, it’s slow and easy, Sam’s lips trailing down to Dean’s neck, his thumbs rubbing circles into Dean’s hipbones. It’s an easy movement that gets his shirt up over his head and off, and then they’re pressing even closer together, skin on skin that reminds Dean that they’re both here. That they’re safe.

“Love you like this,” Sam’s saying, voice soft, hands sliding over Dean’s body like he needs to remind himself that they belong to one another. “Never get to just- hold you.”

Dean’s never been one for chick-flick moments, but he can’t help but press closer, sigh at the brush of lips over his skin. Shifts to give his brother more room to get his jeans undone. “Not my fault we’re so busy all the time,” he murmurs. Pulls away just long enough to get undressed the rest of the way, waits until Sam’s in a similar state before climbing on top of him again. “We’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” A soft kiss, and Dean can feel his brother smiling against his lips. “Got lots of time.”

Prep is usually rushed, just enough to get them through, but when Sam lubes up his fingers now, when he brushes them over Dean’s hole, there’s nothing rushed about it. It’s slow and gentle and Dean’s practically squirming by the time one of them finally presses inside. It’s a relief to finally have it, but he can’t bring himself to begrudge his brother for taking so long.

“Feels good, right?” Sam works his finger in a little deeper, rubbing in gentle circles inside.”You’re so warm.”

A second finger joins the first, and they scissor apart gently, have Dean twisting his hips a little to try to get them deeper. “S’what happens when you’ve got fingers in my ass, Sammy,” he replies, a little breathless. “S’warm inside.”

Sam laughs, twists his fingers to rub against Dean’s prostate. Uses his momentary distraction to add a third finger. “Yeah, I know. Know you love it, too.”

Dean rolls his eyes even as he presses closer. Busies himself smoothing his fingers through Sam’s hair as his brother starts working his fingers in and out at an easy pace. “Shut up.”

But it doesn’t stop him from moving his hips in turn, gripping tight at Sam’s hair, panting hard into Sam’s skin. They never get to do this, and it’s obvious that Sam intends to make the most of this opportunity.

By the time Dean’s open and ready, he’s edging close, too. Sam doesn’t rush it, though, pulls his fingers out, and then they’re kissing, and Dean doesn’t think he’s ever felt this quietly intimate with his brother.

It takes a moment to get the two of them into position, but then the head of Sam’s cock is nudging at Dean’s entrance. It’s an easy roll of the hips, and then he’s buried to the hilt, letting Dean settle in Sam’s lap and having him moan breathlessly.

“There,” he murmurs. He’s got his hands on Dean’s hips, holds him close and tight and gentle like they’ll never be apart again if he tries. “Got you.”

Dean just nods. Presses closer, drops his head to rest on Sam’s shoulder. “Love you,” he murmurs, and he’s already too close to the edge after the prep, after Sam taking his damn time. It’s too much after so much time with rushing, with a focus on getting it done. It’s sort of nice, he has to admit, and it has him wondering if they can do it more often.

Too soon, it seems, Dean can feel heat pooling in his stomach as his orgasm approaches. He can tell Sam’s getting close, too, the way his breath is coming short and fast. His hands are sliding over Dean’s skin, fingertips tracing mindless patterns, and Dean feels the brush of lips against his neck.

“You ready to come for me?” Sam murmurs, and Dean feels the breath against his skin. “Just like this, Dean. You can do it.”

Maybe it’s the encouragement that gets him the rest of the way there, but another thrust, and Dean’s shivering as he comes, clinging to his brother, letting Sam help him ride it out. He does his best to clench tight, seals his mouth to Sam’s as he feels Sam reaching his climax with a moan lost in the heat between them.

He feels sleepy as he starts coming down, almost lethargic- can’t even work up the energy to move off of Sam. Sam’s got it covered, apparently, because he carefully lowers the both of them back onto the bed, Dean settled on Sam’s chest.

Dean snuggles close. Tucks his face into Sam’s neck. “Gotta take our time more,” he mumbles. Decides to blame the sappiness on being post-sex. “S’nice.”

“Yeah.” He can hear the smile in Sam’s voice. “Love you.”

Dean grumbles something in response, but he’s already drifting off to sleep.

Chapter Text

“Fine. One time, that’s it.”

Dean still hasn’t quite decided whether or not he regrets giving in, whether or not this is going to be something he won’t want to look back on. But Sam had been relentless in his begging, puppy eyes and all, and really, it’ll just be easier in the long run for them both if he gives it a shot. Even if it’s just to make sure his brother doesn’t ask anymore.

Sam’s ecstatic, of course. Promises that it’ll be good for them both, that he’ll give Dean all the attention he could ever want, that he’ll do everything he can to make Dean feel as good as he does when they do this normally. It doesn’t help Dean’s nerves any, and when it finally comes time to settle down- case closed, wounds healed, nothing but time to kill- he’s still a little bit anxious.

“Hey.” Sam must notice. They’re already mostly undressed, Dean leaning back on his elbows with his brother hovering over him, hands smoothing down his sides. One comes up to cup his cheek, a thumb brushing over his skin. “Just trust me, okay? I’ve got you.”

So Dean takes a deep breath. Reminds himself that this is Sam, his little brother, the one person he’d kill and die for in a heartbeat, who he knows would do the same for him. Has done the same for him, even. The one person he trusts, end of- the person he knows will never do anything to hurt him. Not intentionally.

He relaxes, and he closes his eyes, and he just lets himself feel-

And that’s when it starts coming together.

Because Sam doesn’t rush things. Doesn’t make Dean feel anything but loved, cherished. Probably checks on him too often, spends too much time making sure he’s okay, even if Dean doesn’t need it, because god, when they finally get there, when Sam finally presses inside- it’s like being whole, like something that’s never been there finally makes sense. 

He can’t help but wonder if this is how Sam feels when they do this.

“Got you,” Sam murmurs, and his lips are brushing Dean’s collarbones, and their fingers are interlocked, and it feels like this is supposed to be. “Love you, Dean.”

And Dean squeezes his brother’s hands tight, and mumbles something into Sam’s hair that sounds like I love you, too, and thinks that maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.