Desire: A Supernatural Series
Even As I Wander, I'm Keeping You in Sight
Wolfling and James
smell of food woke Sam up. There were sounds coming from somewhere
close by -- muted clicks and the thump of wood on wood. He was in bed
alone and the sheets beside him were cool. Sam opened his eyes and
raised his head, trying to locate Dean.
"Hey, sleeping beauty," Dean called over. "You want breakfast?"
"Breakfast?" he echoed, still a little groggy, looking around.
looked at him from the kitchen and held up a Del Taco bag. "Breakfast,"
he repeated, and from the tone of his voice he clearly was wondering
whether Sam was really awake.
"Yeah, sure," Sam said around a
yawn. His brain finally woke up just as he was sitting up, providing a
memory of the night before. The shopping, the side trip to the sex
shop, then coming back here and Dean fucking him with the dildo and
then just... fucking him.
"I got two Macho Burritos, and two
steak -- you want one of each?" Dean was asking, bringing the bag over
to the bed along with a cup carrier with two cups in it.
stared at Dean, trying to figure out... Dean looked normal, the same
way he'd looked a hundred other mornings when he'd woken up first and
gone and got them breakfast. Sam didn't know if that was a good or bad
Dean stopped by the side of the bed and jangled the bag at him. "Sam?
Sammy, you want a burrito?"
"Are you... okay?" Sam asked.
watched as Dean's expression froze, then changed from one to another
almost too fast to make out. Finally he just shook his head. "Do we
have to talk about it? Can't we just have breakfast?"
think I need to talk about it," Sam said slowly. It would drive him
crazy wondering what was going on in Dean's head otherwise.
a stifled sigh, Dean nodded and sat down, setting the bag and the cup
carrier down in the middle of the bed, reaching over Sam's legs to do
"Are you okay?" Sam asked again.
anything in Dean's expression to tell Sam what his brother was feeling.
Dean shrugged, and Sam could see that he was about to say he was fine.
need to know," Sam said, before Dean could. "Last night was..." He
hesitated, trying to find a word that wouldn't freak Dean out with too
much feeling, finally settling on, "...intense."
He got a sharp look from Dean at that. "Are you all right?" It
wasn't just a deflection, though Sam knew Dean would be perfectly happy
for it to serve as one.
fine," Sam said quickly, then smiled ruefully, "I might not want to sit
on anything hard today, but last night was worth that."
There was a quick smile at that, and Sam could see a dozen snide and
suggestive comments race through his brother's head.
That he took as a good sign, and he gave Dean the opening to say
something lewd by asking, "What?"
But Dean just looked -- prim,
for god's sake -- and shook his head as though he would never say such
crude things. He leaned over and snagged one of the cups, and took a
Sam sighed. "So we're really not going to talk about what we did last
do you want me to say?" Dean asked, sounding slightly exasperated. "I
fucked you, you liked it, end of story. Except we have breakfast and my
coffee sucks." He made a face at it, but took another swallow, anyhow.
want you to say if you liked it," Sam answered, keeping his voice as
calm as he could. The last thing he wanted was for this to turn into
some kind of crazy fight like the one they'd had two nights ago. "I
want to know if you're freaking out about it and want to forget it
happened. I want to know if it's going to happen again."
didn't have any warning before Dean's hand was wrapped around the back
of his neck, then Dean was kissing him. He tasted like coffee and
faintly of toothpaste. Sam knew that this was probably just Dean's way
of avoiding having to actually answer his questions, but as a
distraction it was one that definitely worked on him. And, really, it
was an answer in itself because if Dean had been freaking completely
out, he wouldn't have done it.
After a moment, Dean let him go
-- let his mouth go, but his hand stayed on Sam's neck and his face was
still right there, close enough for Sam to kiss him again if he just
tilted his head the tiniest bit. They stayed in that position and Sam
could hear Dean breathing, feel him trying to say something. Whether
the problem was figuring out what to say, or how to say it, Sam
"I can't say I'm not freaking," Dean said
suddenly, quietly. "But I can't.... I'm not letting you go. Neither of
us is forgetting it and...." His voice dropped, and Dean closed his
eyes, briefly. Then he pulled back and looked at Sam steadily, though
his voice was still soft, and shaking ever so slightly. "I hope like
hell it's going to happen again."
Sam leaned in and kissed Dean
again, knowing that if he didn't, he'd be blurting out all kinds of
emotional stuff that would send his brother running. So he put those
feelings into the kiss, reaching up and holding Dean's face between his
hands while he plundered his brother's mouth.
Dean didn't seem
to be trying to get away -- not judging by the way he opened his mouth
so willingly, and moaned softly as Sam kissed him.
finally let Dean's mouth go, he smiled and leaned his forehead against
his brother's. "I think it's probably a safe bet that it will," he
murmured, smiling, feeling the happiness and just the rightness
of everything bubble up inside him.
Dean said, and the light-hearted tone didn't quite cover up the catch
in his voice. "Can I eat now, or did you wanna talk about something
"I seem to recall someone wanting to have all sorts of
conversations at inappropriate times last night," Sam pointed out,
Dean threw him a confused look.
"Inappropriate? What the hell are you talking about?" Dean reached over
and grabbed the bag of burritos, and dug into it. "Have you seen
the bathroom? I mean, seriously?"
got his own burrito by the simple expedient of reaching over and
plucking the first one Dean took out of the bag right out of his hand.
"There's a time and place for every discussion," he said, unwrapping
the burrito. "When you have your fingers up my ass is not the
appropriate time for discussing painting the bathroom."
was--" Dean began, belligerently, then he cut himself off and pulled
out another burrito. He held it for a moment as if waiting to see if
Sam wanted that one as well.
Sam generously waved it off, taking
a bite of the one he did have and waiting until Dean was about to do
the same before asking, "You were what?"
Dean stopped, mouth
open an inch away from his burrito. He glared at Sam without moving,
then lowered his burrito and sighed. Looking away, he said, "I was
trying... not to come too fast, all right?" He paused like he was going
to continue, but didn't.
It made Sam smile, which he hid by
taking another bite of burrito. Again, he waited until Dean was going
to take a bite, then asked, "The idea of fucking me was really making
you that hot?"
His brother stopped again, and gave Sam another
dirty look, though this one was tempered by something darker. Dean put
his burrito down and frowned at it, like he knew there was no way he
was going to get to eat it anytime soon. "Yeah," he said, quietly. "I
was trying to distract myself so I wouldn't."
Sam reached over
and rested a hand on Dean's thigh. He waited until Dean glanced at him
and then he said, putting as much conviction as he could into his
voice, "I'm glad that the distractions didn't work and you did."
wanted--" Dean stopped, but seemed to be searching for the words to
keep going, rather than fighting the need to speak at all. "I didn't--"
He fell silent, words apparently escaping him. But he put his hand on
Sam's, and rubbed his fingers lightly over Sam's wrist.
shifted closer, and raised his other hand to rub gently at the back of
Dean's neck, knowing it was one of the quickest ways of soothing him.
"You didn't what?" he asked softly.
There was a brief -- too
brief -- smile, and Dean gave a sort of laugh. "I was trying to take
things slower than that. Let you... get used to... Man, if it were just
about me getting off with my dick in your ass I'd have done it when you
were sixteen." Dean closed his eyes, but tilted his head towards Sam.
of Dean taking him a couple of years ago sent shivers of arousal down
Sam's spine. "If you'd taken things any slower, I think I probably
would've gone crazy."
"Nah, you've been insane for a decade at least."
Sam chuckled. "Jerk," he said affectionately.
"Bitch," Dean returned, voice just above a whisper. He shifted towards
Sam, then leaned in.
shifted so that he could wrap his arms around him. "Really, Dean,
bathroom painting aside, last night was... I couldn't have asked for a
better first time. As far as I'm concerned, you did everything right."
soon as Sam's arms tightened around him, his brother moved in closer,
seeming to fall against him. He was silent for a moment then in a
half-hitched, half-amused voice Dean said, "I guess that answers the
question if you came or not."
Sam chuckled, surprised by the comment. "I came so hard I'm surprised
my head didn't explode."
"Oh. Good." Dean spoke almost haltingly. Then, apologetically, "I kinda
"As long as it wasn't because you were too preoccupied thinking of
colours to paint the bathroom..."
Sam whacked his arm.
"Not dark green," Dean protested. "Geez. Just a sort of
I was trying to say," Sam said, determined to get this out before Dean
totally derailed the conversation, "You don't need to apologise for
great sex. Really."
"Yeah, all right," Dean said, as though
giving in. Sam could tell his brother was still freaking out about it,
but not completely, and not so much that it would be impossible to get
him to repeat last night's performance. Dean leaned back, untangling
himself from Sam's embrace.
Sam let him, knowing if he made Dean
talk about it much more right now, things would probably go downhill.
Dean still wasn't looking at him, focusing instead on the burrito in
his hand, the cup of coffee sitting in the carrier, the mattress, the
wall, the unearthed miles inside his head -- he didn't seem ready to
bolt, but that was only because he was giving off the distinct
impression of being chained to the bed.
That thought brought a few vision flashes of Dean literally
chained to a bed, which this was so not the time for. But Sam did make
a note to try to remember them later. "Do you want me to go take a
shower or something?" he asked Dean, offering to give him the space
that his brother seemed to need.
"Nah." Dean shook his head,
still not looking up. He lifted his burrito to his mouth -- and paused
there, obviously waiting for Sam to say something.
Sam just grinned and took a bite of his own breakfast.
gave him a glare, then quickly took a big bite of his burrito. He
turned a highly suspicious look on Sam as he chewed, clearly daring him
to ask another question. Which was reason enough to continue to eat
silently, as far as Sam was concerned.
When Sam had just taken another bite of burrito, Dean asked, "So when
do you want to get fucked again?"
Sam choked and started coughing.
Dean waggled his eyebrows and kept eating.
week later, Sam was sitting on the couch going through the orientation
packet he'd picked up at school. There was a lot of information there
and even more forms. At least he'd gotten his brother to help -- by
kicking Dean out of the apartment for a few hours so he wouldn't keep
picking things up and moving them. He didn't particularly know where
Dean had gone; his brother had already found three good bars with pool
tables, and their cash flow had been taken care of for the next couple
Sam did worry some that Dean was going to be at loose
ends when he was busy with school, especially once classes started and
he had a full course load. But every time he tried to bring it up, Dean
either changed the subject or did his best to distract him. So far they
still hadn't actually talked about it.
But his brother didn't seem worried, and despite how much Sam knew Dean
like he didn't care, he also knew that Dean would have to decide for
himself whether or not to go stir crazy. Heck, maybe Dean was really
looking forward to staying home and watching soaps.
The key at
the lock warned him; a second later the door swung open and Dean
stepped in. He caught Sam watching, and grinned. "Still at it?"
but it's probably time for a break," Sam said, putting the papers down
and crossing over to his brother. He hadn't actually been concentrating
on the papers for the last ten minutes or so anyway.
Dean moved past him and leaned over the back of the couch, and picked
up one of the stacks of papers. "Huh. Hey, are you--"
Sam quickly took the papers from him and put them back where he'd had
them. Carefully sorted.
"You know, this college thing has really
brought out your anal side. Are you gonna be like this for four years?
Because I might have to strangle you now and put myself out of your
"You won't strangle me," Sam said, not the least bit
phased. He slid his arms around Dean's waist. "And I'm not anal. I just
need to know where everything is."
"Which is the definition of
'anal'," Dean replied, pressing his hands against Sam's, then hanging
onto his arms, holding him in place. "Seriously, between you and
Dad...." Dean shook his head.
Sam pulled back a little to look
at him. "What do you mean between me and Dad? When have I ever been
anything like Dad?" He ignored the memory flashes that brought up of
his own voice telling their father that they weren’t different. Because
that? Wasn't the same thing at all.
"Dude, are you kidding me?"
Dean blinked at him, looking sincerely surprised. "Have you ever seen
Dad when he's researching something? All his piles of newspaper
articles, photocopies, everything underlined and notes and god help you
if you breathe on something before he gets it into his journal?"
Okay, Dean might have a point. But... "I'm not that bad."
Dean narrowed his eyes. "Have you met yourself? Or Dad?"
"I'm not," Sam insisted.
Dean leaned over and picked up one of the forms Sam had laid out. Sam
gritted his teeth and didn't say anything. Dean carefully laid it
upside-down on a stack of paperwork that was totally unrelated to the
Sam's hands twitched, but he didn't move. Dean
moved his hand to a stack of papers sitting to one side, and poised his
finger to flick the entire thing onto the floor.
"Don't-!" Sam blurted, reaching to grab Dean's hand before he could
knock the papers over.
delightedly, Dean caught Sam's hand and spun them both around -- away
from the paperwork. He gave Sam a smugger-than-hell look.
"Anyone would get upset about you knocking everything over like that,"
Sam protested weakly.
"Wouldn't bother me a bit," Dean retorted.
raised an eyebrow. "Really? It wouldn't bother you at all if I came up
when you're cleaning your guns and swiped all of the parts onto the
"Not really, no." Dean shrugged.
wouldn't," Dean repeated. "You get the parts all over the floor which
means I make you pick them all back up. If you lose a part, I find a
gunsmith or I buy a new gun." He shrugged again. "Not really a big
Which was probably the truth, damn it. "What about the car?" Sam asked.
Dean narrowed his eyes. "What about my car?" he asked, voice low and
Gotcha! Sam thought. "What if I, say, spilled coffee on
the seat?" he asked, picking something at random.
"Then you clean it up," Dean countered, but his tone and his scowl both
Sam managed to hide his grin, but it wasn't easy. "And what if, say, I
was driving the car and it got a scratch-"
I get to be an only child again," Dean growled. "It'd be nice. Don't
have to share my toys, no one stealing my cereal, no everyone cooing
over the darling baby--"
"Dude, don't even try it," Sam said. "You know you love me."
"Of course I love you, I'm just saying I love my car more."
grinned, happy whenever Dean told him that. Well, maybe happier when it
wasn't immediately followed by a declaration of love for the Impala,
but still. He took what he could get.
Dean had opened his mouth
to say something, when he stopped and looked at Sam for a second. Then
he half-smiled, and shook his head. "You look like a goofball," he
"I don't care," Sam replied, leaning in to kiss Dean.
Dean slipped his arms around Sam and smiled at him. "Jot de gari."
Sam just raised an eyebrow at him, but then decided he needed to kiss
"Brat," Dean said, after the kiss was over.
"Jerk," Sam responded, then kissed him a third time.
Just because he was there.
"Geek." Dean paused, looking hopeful.
Sam chuckled. "You think I'm kissing you because you're calling me
"It's working for me so far." Dean grinned, smug and happy.
wasn't why I was kissing you," Sam told him, but figured it wouldn't do
much good. And besides, when Dean looked at him like that, he'd do
pretty much anything for him, including kissing him for calling Sam
"So you don't mind if I call you a dickhead?"
"Would it stop you if I said yes?"
"Would you believe me if I said it would?" Dean countered.
Sam actually gave it some thought. "Probably not," he admitted.
why are you asking?" Dean glanced towards the couch and the stacks of
papers; his calculating look didn't seem quite evil enough to make Sam
feel the need to protect his sense of order. "Hey, don't you still have
time before you need all this crap? Classes don't start until Monday,
"Yeah," Sam said, not at all surprised that Dean knew his schedule as
well as he did. "But I just want to be prepared."
"So, you're actually free for the next two or three days?" Dean glanced
at him with a hopeful expression.
"I suppose so," Sam said, raising an eyebrow at Dean's look. "What do
you have in mind?"
"Wanna drive up to Reno?"
"Why?" Sam asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion as he looked at his
responded with a wide-eyed expression of what was always intended to be
innocence, but that was a look Sam had never really seen his brother
successfully accomplish. "I suggest a friendly road-trip out to Nevada,
and you look at me like I'm going to say something like 'let's skip the
showgirls and concentrate on the possible haunted taxi'?"
wondered if there was ever going to be a time Dean would just come out
and say things instead of seeing if he could get Sam going first. "A
"A friend of Dad's called and said since we're out here
and Dad's down in Florida, we might check it out. Some weird stories
about a taxi -- picks up fares, sometimes it drives them to where they
wanna go, sometimes it dumps the bodies at a local cemetery. Same one
"Definitely sounds like it could be our sort of
thing," Sam mused, already mentally creating the checklist of what
they'd have to do to investigate it.
"And afterwards, we can hit
the casinos." Dean grinned, and stepped away, heading towards the
closet. Already intent on packing and going, Sam realised.
Sam hesitated. "You sure we can be back by Monday?"
Dean didn't even look up from where he was rummaging -- though for
what, Sam didn't know, because the duffel he was grabbing was packed,
hadn't been unpacked since they'd moved in. His 'hunting kit,' Sam
Sam suddenly realised how excited Dean was. Any
lingering hesitation Sam might have been feeling melted under that
realisation, and the whisper of guilt it brought with it. Dean loved
hunting, which he didn't get to do much of staying here with Sam...
his head to get rid of that train of thought, Sam pasted on a
determined smile. "So what are we waiting for? Let's hit Reno."
"I swear to god, Sammy, you touch it again and I will break
your hand off at the shoulder."
didn't take his eyes off the road to bother glaring at him. They'd been
driving for only a couple hours but Dean had forced them to listen to
Motorhead since they'd pulled away from the curb back home.
sighed and said in a very clipped voice, "Dean, if I have to listen to
this tape through one more time... I'll be forced to jump out of a
moving car to get away from it."
"What are you talking about?" Dean shot him a confused look. "Ace of
Spades is the best fucking album ever."
Knowing drastic measures would be needed here, Sam reached for the door
Sammy," Dean snapped, but he jabbed at the radio's eject button. "If I
break you, Dad's not gonna let me have another one." He glared over at
Sam smiled smugly and leaned back in the passenger seat now that he'd
gotten his way. "Thank you," he said politely.
flipped him off, then reached over blindly for the box of cassette
tapes. Sam got there first, pulling it out of his brother's reach and
searching through it himself. There was a soft whimpering sound from
"Did you say something?" Sam asked innocently.
"If you make me listen to Britney what's her face, I will never, ever
forgive you. Or that.. emo grunge band."
"It's my turn to pick," Sam pointed out.
"Driver picks the music," Dean returned. "Shotgun shuts his cakehole
unless he's offering a blowjob."
"I have the tapes," Sam again pointed out, using the same calm,
still the one driving," Dean said, sternly. As though he hadn't refused
to let Sam drive since he'd got the car last spring.
are," Sam agreed. "Which means you should be concentrating on the road
and leave petty things like music choices to me."
"I'm the one
who will drive us into oncoming traffic if my ears start to bleed."
Dean reached over towards the box of tapes on Sam's lap.
Sam slapped at his hand and moved the box out of reach. "Your ears
aren't going to bleed because I play Nirvana."
will too. It's a documented fact -- hell, Dad and I once hunted down an
entire collection of albums that were making people's ears bleed." He
paused, shuddering. "Peggy Lee. Frank Sinatra. I was never so glad to
destroy a haunted jukebox in my entire life."
Sam nodded as if in agreement, then said, "Philistine."
Dean shot him a look. "Me or them?"
Sam answered that with an eloquent look of his own.
Dean said, nodding expansively. He turned his attention back to the
road, drummed his thumbs on the wheel, then said, "I'm gonna sing if
you don't put something in."
That actually stopped Sam from
reaching for the tape he'd picked out. He liked Dean's singing voice. A
lot. Not that his brother knew that -- there were some things you just
didn't admit to if you didn't want to be teased about them forever. But
Dean threatening to sing had to be one of the least threatening threats
that he could've made. "You wouldn't," Sam said, sliding the box of
tapes further away from Dean.
Without warning, Dean began singing. "Sam, Sam, the lavatory man,
Chief inspector of the outhouse clan--"
Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad a threat after all. Sam had forgotten
that his brother was, apparently, still five. With a muttered
curse, he grabbed the BOC tape he'd picked out and put it in the player.
he heard before the music kicked in was his brother chuckling. A few
minutes later, Dean asked, "So, Sammy, what did you ever decide on,
anyway, for your first semester?"
Sam glanced over at him. "What, you haven't looked through my papers
and found out for yourself?" he teased.
brother gave him a flat look. "I know you're taking English and
biology, and Latin, though, seriously, what the hell do you still need
classes in that for? And American Economic History which just makes me
wish I could go, too." There was no mistaking the sarcasm in his
brother's voice, there. Dean continued, "And something called Matrix
Theory which I'm hoping means you don't have a crush on Keanu Reeves."
"Jealous?" Sam asked, smiling a little at how easily his brother had
rattled off his courses.
Sam grinned. "Don't worry. Keanu isn't my type at all."
"Carrie Anne Moss?"
He chuckled. "That's your type."
"Hot chick with a gun? Oh, hell, yeah." Dean sighed, appreciatively.
"You're so easy," Sam said, amused.
a hot chick with a gun? That's not easy, Sam, that's called having a
pulse." Dean paused, then added, "Though I've met ghosts who liked hot
chicks with guns, as well. Kwan had a thing for Lucy Liu -- he made us
watch Charlie's Angels a dozen times over."
"And I'm sure you
were gritting your teeth having to sit through it every time," Sam
teased. Inwardly he was pleased to hear his brother mentioning Kwan
again; after the first time he'd told Sam about him had ended with Dean
somehow thinking he'd let Sam down for daring to go off and do his own
thing and have fun, he hadn't talked about it again. That he
did so now Sam took as a good sign, although it wasn't one he was going
to point out to his brother.
"Just through what's her name, the
scrawny chick's scenes. Lucy Liu, though. Yeah. Mmm, yeah. But that
doesn't answer my question," Dean said after his moment of reflection.
Dean looked at him like he was brain damaged -- an expression Sam had
memorised by the time he was six. "School?"
"Sounds to me like you already know the answer," Sam pointed out.
why am I asking?" Dean countered, sarcastically. Even though Sam knew
he was right and Dean probably had his entire schedule memorised, down
to the room assignments.
"Probably to annoy me."
Dean opened his mouth, stopped, then closed it. Sam just grinned smugly
and went back to looking out the window. Got it in one.
I was trying to make sure you knew your schedule," Dean said a minute
later, far too late to convince either of them that had been his real
"Shut up," Dean retorted. Then, "You do know your schedule, don't you?"
"Of course I do," Sam said, shooting his brother a 'don't be stupid'
was a telling -- expectant -- silence. Rolling his eyes, Sam sighed and
then rattled off his schedule hour by hour, day by day.
gave him a proud grin, which was marred only by the fact he was trying
not to smirk, and mostly failing. "You got your books?"
"Dude," Sam began with what he thought was an admirable amount of
patience, "you were with me when I bought them."
"But there were two you couldn't find," Dean reminded him.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder which of us is the one going
"So you didn't get the books?" Dean sighed, and Sam could practically
hear him making a mental note to find them before Monday.
resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. "The clerk at the campus
bookstore said they'd have a new shipment in on Monday. I'll pick them
up between classes. Really Dean, I can handle all this."
"How're your shoes?"
"Dean!" Sam finally snapped exasperation overwhelming patience.
"What?" Dean glanced over at him, surprised. "Hey, it's a new school
year, you get new shoes."
was true; for any year they had got to start at an actual school, Sam
had gotten a new pair of shoes, a pair of new jeans, and underwear.
Everything else had always been hand-me-downs or Goodwill, but Dad --
or Dean -- had always taken him shopping before the first day of school.
"The shoes I have are fine, Dean," Sam told his brother with a small
shrugged. "Just making sure -- hard to tell if you've really stopped
growing." He gave the top of Sam's head a disparaging look. "I told Dad
we should just wrap you in newspapers and duct tape, the way you
outgrew clothes every week."
Sam spread his hands. "Hey, I can't help it if I got the good genes and
you got the stunty ones."
"That why you think I'm so hot?" Dean asked, giving him a flirtatious
"Well, it's not because you want to wrap me in newspapers and duct
tape," Sam shot back.
"You were twelve," Dean replied. "And ugly as a stick. Newspaper and
duct tape would have been an improvement."
"You never thought I was ugly," Sam said with confidence.
Dean glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "You've seen the photos,
Sam smiled at him. "You never thought I was ugly," he repeated.
was another telling silence from the other side of the car. Sam waited
to see what Dean would finally say. It took a minute, but eventually
Dean said, "You better not wake me up when you have class at eight a.m."
Sam ignored the comment and said instead, "I never thought you were
"Dude, I was never ugly,"
Dean protested. "And I mean it about not waking me up. Don't expect
breakfast at six in the morning unless I'm just getting in."
Sam said, knowing that it was more likely than not that breakfasts and
rides to school would be forthcoming no matter how early his classes
started. Or how much he protested he didn't need it, or how much Dean
protested he wasn't going to provide same.
And it was just as
likely that Dean knew it, too, and knew Sam knew. It never seemed to
stop him from wasting breath to make the protests.
"What about your other stuff?" Dean suddenly asked, and he waved a hand
like the gesture meant something.
Sam looked at him blankly. "What other stuff?"
"You know," and Dean actually sounded embarrassed. "Pencils, notebooks,
whatever. Don't you need shit like that?"
"That's all taken care of," Sam assured him, wondering when Dean was
going to stop acting like... like a mom.
"When?" Dean asked, sounding confused. As though it mattered, as long
as Sam had what he needed?
before we moved. Saw a sale in a bookstore on notebooks and pens when
we were chasing down that poltergeist with the thing for ribbons? So I
"Oh. Okay, good." Dean nodded, and looked thoughtful as he stared ahead
at the highway.
he opened his mouth again, Sam jumped in before he could say anything.
"Dude. Chill. Everything's taken care of. I am actually capable of
doing all this stuff myself, y'know."
Dean flinched, and after a moment said curtly, "Fine, whatever."
Sam closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That wasn't
meant as some kind of personal insult," he said quietly.
just tell me to piss off, I don't care." His voice had gone flat and
inflectionless. He reached over and turned up the volume on the radio.
Sam immediately turned it back down again. "I didn't tell you to piss
reached back over to turn the volume back up. When Sam intercepted his
hand, Dean snapped, "It's fine, Sam. Got it. You can do this -- you
don't need me nagging you."
"You're right. I don't need the nagging." He held onto Dean's hand, not
letting him pull back. "But I do need you."
got me, Sam," Dean said, his voice still shuttered and slightly pissed
off. "24/7 to keep the demons of the world at bay, but not make sure
you have school supplies."
"I need you for more than just demon
protection," Sam said, shivering slightly as the words brought up as
they always did more micro flashes of horrific things he never wanted
to look at any clearer. "A lot more. You know that..." He hesitated,
suddenly unsure. "Don't you?"
Dean didn't answer right away,
which made Sam think his answer, when it came, was honest -- if not
totally complete. "Yeah," he said, finally.
"Why do I hear a 'but' after that?" he asked, keeping his voice calm
and as far away from accusing as he could.
took another long moment before Dean spoke again. There had been a time
-- in his visions -- that Sam could remember Dean talking like this
without Sam feeling like he was pulling every word out of him with both
hands and a crowbar.
Hopefully it wouldn't take long before they got there, again.
Of course, when Dean did speak, it was to say, "It isn't your
"If it's your problem, it's my problem," Sam shot back promptly.
"It's not a problem," Dean said, trying again.
Sam knew he just had to keep pushing until Dean ran out of excuses.
"Tell me, then."
"It's nothing," Dean said, impatiently. "You don't want me nagging you,
I won't nag."
"Well, I'm going to be nagging you if you don't tell me what's
stupid," Dean said, quietly. Like he really didn't want Sam to keep
asking, because they both knew he would eventually give in.
"I've known you all my life," Sam pointed out. "It'll hardly be the
first stupid thing I've heard you say."
"Like that," Sam said still keeping his voice casual. "Come on Dean,
brother shrugged, and looked like he was all for dropping it and trying
again to change the subject. But he whispered, "What else have I got to
Sam swallowed hard, the words feeling like a punch in the gut. "Pull
the car over," he said, his voice husky.
did so almost immediately, pulling onto the shoulder and throwing the
car into 'park'. "What's wrong?" he asked, turning to Sam, sounding
Sam immediately wrapped his arms Dean, hanging on
tightly and burying his face in Dean's neck. This was what he'd been
afraid of, since Dean first proposed he go with him so Sam could accept
the scholarship and go to college -- that Dean was giving up too much
of himself to give Sam what he wanted. Whenever he tried to ask about
it, Dean had always assured him it wasn't a problem. But here they
were, classes not even started yet and Dean was admitting...
Hugging Dean tighter, Sam said, "We don't have to do this."
"What? What? Sam, the fuck are you talking about?" Dean was
"This," Sam waved a hand around vaguely. "Me going to school, the
"Sam, Sammy, no," Dean said, soothingly. "Hey, it's not... I told
you this is ok. It's good -- hell, ever since you got accepted to
college you've been bouncing around like we were going to Disneyland."
He felt Dean's hand in his hair, brushing it down. Dean's reassurance
was just making it worse. "It's not fair to you."
There was an odd sort of choked laugh, at that. "Sam, my whole life
hasn't been fair. I'm not--"
"This isn't what you want," Sam said interrupting him.
put his hands on Sam's face and lifted up his head, staring into his
eyes. "This is what I want," he said, clearly. "I want you to go to
school. I want to be with you. I want you to be happy."
Sam smiled sadly. "But that's all about me. Not you."
think you being happy doesn't make me happy?" Dean countered. "How is
me being with you not about me, anyway?" He smiled a little, and kissed
It still wasn't right. "But Dean, you want-"
want you," Dean said, leaning in close enough to kiss, hands still on
Sam's face. "I want you to do this, because it's where you belong. If
you give this up for me you'll never be happy, and I'll never know if
you won't end up leaving someday anyhow. I don't need anything I can't
have, like this. I can go on hunts on the weekends, and when you have
breaks, and I can hustle morons at pool and I can find myself a fucking
hobby if I get bored, and you can go to school and get your degree and
become a fancy-ass lawyer and I will be happy."
Sam was still worried, but Dean sounded so sure... He closed his eyes.
"All right," he whispered, giving in.
it's fine," Dean said, like he could hear inside Sam's head. "I just--"
He laughed, though it sounded a little forced. "It's just hard to let
go sometimes, you know?" He gave Sam another soft kiss. "I remember
when you were in kindergarten and you kept coming to my class whenever
you needed me to retie your shoes. Hell, I remember feeding you."
"You fed me this morning," Sam pointed out, though his voice was soft
and a bit shaky.
"Never got out of the habit," Dean said with a laugh. "Though at least
now you don't need me to hold your spoon."
"Yeah, I've had the mastery of silverware for a long time."
sighed, quietly, and it felt like things were maybe okay. "So maybe now
you've mastered buying textbooks and finding your way to class, too."
"Maybe," Sam acknowledged softly.
"I can still tie your shoes if you need me to." Dean grinned, and the
tension had died out of his eyes entirely.
Sam rested his head on Dean's shoulder again, smiling. "Maybe every now
and then," he said.
Dean's tone changed. "Walk you to class sometime?"
Sam's smile grew. "Whenever you want."
"Carry your books?" Dean gave him a shy grin that was completely unlike
"Sure," Sam said, feeling himself actually blush.
That made Dean chuckle, though he followed it up with a kiss. Then he
laughed out loud. "Mind if I don't ask your dad if I can take
Sam wrapped his fingers in Dean's shirt and pulled him closer. "You've
got my permission. That's all you need."
you're eighteen now, you're legal." Dean snickered. "You know. If I
were a girl not related to you...." He gave Sam another kiss, then
asked, "Wanna go to a movie sometime?"
Sam laughed. "Like a date?"
I don't know that staking out a cemetery would count as a proper first
date," Dean replied. The first real hunt they'd gone on after they'd
started sleeping together had involved three cold, annoying nights
sitting outside a cemetery waiting for any sign of the spirit that had
been rampaging through the area.
"We did kinda skip the whole dating part, didn't we?" Sam asked,
reaching for Dean's hand and curling his fingers around it.
really need to get to know each other," Dean replied. "You've known me
all your life," he added, as though telling Sam one thing he didn't
know. He rubbed his fingers lightly along Sam's, reminding Sam just how
sensitive his fingers could be.
"Yeah," Sam said softly, looking down at their joined hands. "Dean?"
not going to leave. Doesn't matter what we do or don't do... I'm not
leaving. Ever." He squeezed Dean's hand. "You're stuck with me."
brother looked down at their hands, then he looked up -- something
strange in his expression that made Sam's breath catch. Then Dean said,
"I love you, too."
Feeling himself a lot closer to tears than he
would ever admit, Sam leaned in and kissed his brother with everything
in him. Dean held him, tightly, like he was afraid Sam might get away
from him, despite everything Sam had said. Or maybe he just felt like
Sam did -- that he wanted to press their bodies together until there
was nothing at all between them.
The side of the highway was really not the place for this, but Sam
didn't care. He wanted Dean -- needed him -- right now.
felt Dean's hand slip under his shirt, touching his bare skin.
Perversely, Dean then pushed his mouth away from Sam's and said, "We
can't... not here, Sammy."
"I don't care," Sam said, trying to capture Dean's lips again.
Dean said, insistently, but apologetically. He pulled himself away, but
clearly looked like he hated doing so. Behind him, Sam could see the
steady rush of cars going past.
Sam groaned and closed his eyes, leaning back against his seat. "Find
us somewhere we can?" he asked.
stared at him, long and hard, until Sam thought he would give in and
say 'here, now.' Then he turned in his seat and fumbled for the
ignition. "Fuck," he whispered. As the engine roared to life, Dean
looked over at him again, hands stilling on the wheel. "There's gotta
be an exit soon."
He pulled the Impala back into traffic with a
minimum of trouble, and seemed to be very conscientiously ignoring Sam
as he drove. Only his left leg gave him away -- bouncing fast and hard
like he was in desperate need of a restroom.
Sam tried to remain
as silent and still as he could because if he didn't, he'd be all over
his brother and that would probably end in them crashing and dying, so,
no. But he couldn't stop himself watching Dean.
several miles, Dean glanced over and begged, "Look at something else,
or I'm gonna pull over again and we'll get arrested by that highway
patrol car that's a mile behind us."
Sam tried to look away, but found his eyes drifting back to his brother
after a few minutes.
about something else," Dean said, still in a begging tone that just
made it all that much harder to not want to strip him down right there.
"I'm trying. It's not working."
"Think about Mrs. Duncan, naked."
Sam shuddered. "That's just cruel," he complained.
"Yeah, but is it working?"
"Picture her dancing. Naked."
has a mole on her leg," Dean continued, gesturing at a spot on his
thigh. "Big one, too. And you know those dogs that are all wrinkles?
Skin falling over itself?"
"Dean!" Sam yelled again, turning to
look at him... which negated any effect Dean's words might have had
because his brother was sitting there smirking and looking entirely too
"What?" His brother glanced sideways with that smug, 'who me?'
expression that never got him out of trouble.
think the only thing that will actually help -- short of you finding
somewhere we can stop and not be arrested -- would be if you actually turned
into Mrs. Duncan."
that's just nasty." Dean wrinkled his nose at him, and dear god but
every expression he made was making Sam want to kiss him more. "Why
would you want to have sex with Mrs. Duncan?"
"I don't. That's
kinda the point. Since you want me to stop looking at you like I want
to have sex..." This conversation wasn't making things easier.
"But you'd have sex with me anyway, even if I turned into Mrs. Duncan?"
Dean asked, sounding forlorn.
Sam actually gave it some thought. "Probably," he admitted. "It would
still be you."
"Really? With wrinkles and baggy tits down to here?" Dean waved his
hand near his stomach. "And she squeaks
when she talks. Could you seriously fuck something that's all 'Come on,
dear boy, let me have it.'" Dean's voice twisted high, as he squeaked,
in a pretty good imitation of the old lady.
"If it was you."
"Huh," was all Dean said.
"Yeah," Sam said.
Dean said, a moment later. Sam noticed he was glaring at a highway
mileage sign, according to which Soda Springs was only three miles away.
"Drive faster?" Sam suggested.
"Reno's only 45 miles," Dean pointed out, quietly. "We should--" Then
he made a frustrated noise. "I wanna have sex," he whined.
debated with himself for a moment, but remembering the way Dean had
looked at him when they'd been stopped tipped the balance. "Soda
Springs sounds like a nice place," he said.
Dean gave him a relieved grin, but then frowned and said, "We should...
I mean... we've got a job...."
"Are you going to be able to concentrate on the job if we don't stop?"
Sam asked bluntly.
The frown gave way to an entirely delighted look. "You are so
right. It would be dangerous and foolhardy to go into a job
like this." He nodded, and the car sped up a tiny bit.
Sam grinned and went back to staring at his brother.
"Dude, two miles. Cut it out."
"Drive faster," he said again.
"Can't," Dean said, whining again. "Cop's still back there."
"Guess you better think clean and pure thoughts then for the next two
miles," Sam said, though he didn't stop staring.
"I don't know any clean and pure thoughts," Dean returned. "One
mile, thank god."
"You could try imagine having sex with Mrs. Duncan," Sam suggested
helpfully. He even kept from smiling.
Dean just made a gagging noise.
managed not to talk about it for the entire two minutes it took for
them to reach the exit ramp and take it. Dean didn't drive far --
heading past the truck stops dotting the exit and making for a small
road that seemed to lead into the mountains. There was a small turn
around into which Dean pulled the car, and as soon as he threw the car
into park, they were all over each other.
Half an hour later they were on the highway again, more relaxed and
less desperate, and Dean was singing along with Motorhead.
wasn't quite sure how that tape had ended up back in the player, but
between the sex and Dean's singing, he was mellow enough not to
Their first stop in Reno was a cheap motel near the outskirts
It didn't take them more than a few minutes to ward the room with salt
and a few hastily sketched runes on the door -- the usual stuff they
did without thinking. Then they headed for the bar where their dad's
It was late afternoon so the place was still
mostly empty. They went up to the bar and told the bartender that they
were looking for Al.
Sam watched as Dean spun his seat around,
casing the place without looking like he'd been doing that sort of
thing since he was fourteen. He'd be noting the layout, the patrons,
probably already deciding whether there was anyone worth talking to --
or hustling. His brother seemed ever so slightly wired -- not nervous
or hyper the way Sam himself could get, but just... relaxed and happy
and alive. Totally focused on what they were doing.
He was hunting already, and Sam could see it in every inch of his
brought another twinge of guilt for tying Dean down with school,
despite the conversation they'd had on the drive here. Looking at Dean
now, it was obvious this was what he was meant to be doing. Not
babysitting his little brother at college.
Dean turned towards
him, smile open and cheerful. As he looked at Sam, his expression
turned even more delighted, and he gave Sam a wink. Before either
brother could speak, a man walked up behind the bar.
"Dean, Sam, good of you boys to come."
spun his chair around, holding his hand out. "Glad we could help out,"
he said, shaking hands with the man. Al was a tall, barrel-chested guy,
long black hair and serious demeanour. The glasses perched on his nose
seemed almost out of place on a man that looked like he'd be more at
home sitting by a campfire in the middle of nowhere.
Sam took his own turn shaking Al's hand. "Jorge said you were having
problems with taxis?"
not more than one," Al said, quietly. "From what I can tell -- it
doesn't happen very often. I only noticed it myself, this last time."
He looked around the bar, and apparently judged they wouldn't be
overheard where they were. "Lady was found dead, last month. She'd been
in here that night before her body was found. I remember her --
beautiful redhead, built like anything. Real nice, too. I called a taxi
for her when she left and the next day the cops are all over the place,
asking questions. She didn't leave with anyone," Al added, with
"So why think this is a...case we might be interested in?" Dean asked.
gave them both a level look. "I've been working this place for twenty
years. I've seen a lot of things, had the cops knocking on my door more
than once, waving photos in my face, asking me have I seen somebody.
Folks turn up dead or missing all the time, a night after too much
drinking." He waved his hand, encompassing the bar.
"As I was describing what I knew about this lady, I realised -- I'd
said it all before. Not just same old story, but exactly. Same
time of night. Always just one person catching a cab. Dead body always
ends up at Morsen Cemetery."
had pulled out a battered notebook and was writing down the information
Al was telling them. "What makes you think it's not just a regular
"I don't," Al admitted. "But the taxi's an old
Dodge. '60, '61." He gave them both a look. "I checked, there's no
taxis that old in service in the city."
That didn't mean it
still couldn't be a human killer with a fake cab, but Sam supposed that
the cops could work that angle. His and Dean's job was to look at the
options the police wouldn't. "What else can you tell us about the cab?
Did you see the driver?"
Al shook his head. "Nope. All I know
is, I call the Reno Taxi Express, ask for a taxi. Most of the time,
taxi comes, gets whoever they're here for, and everything's fine. Once
in a while, the person ends up dead." He stabbed the bar with his
finger. "It comes here to my bar, and they end up dead and
dumped at Morsen's. Seven or eight times over the last twenty years,
and if the thing is from the sixties, who knows how many more?"
paused, and his anger seemed to deflate just a little. "Maybe it's just
coincidence, maybe it's some nutcase driving an old car. But... I
helped Jorge clean out that old haunted cabin, ten years back. I saw
ghosts -- and that feeling you get, right down deep at the base of your
spine? I caught a glimpse of the taxi when it came to pick up that
lady, and I felt that same damn thing."
That definitely was a big plus in the "it's a spirit" category. "You
said it always comes at the same time?" Sam asked.
can't be sure of the exact time, but this last one was eleven fifteen.
And the one before that was definitely sometime between eleven and
midnight. I know the others were before midnight, and sometime after my
ten thirty break."
"That's not necessarily a pattern," Dean put in, but it was clear to
Sam he believed it probably was.
"Maybe the pattern's at the other end," Sam suggested. "We should see
if we can find out the time of death."
looked at him. "Sounds like a plan. We can go talk to the local cops;
hey, you got any names of the other victims?" he asked Al.
"Sorry," Al shook his head. "I wrote down the dates, as best I could
remember." He held out a slip of paper.
took it, glancing at it. The dates were pretty specific; if they were
accurate, they should be able to find out more details by searching old
newspapers. "Thanks. This will help."
"Looks like a job for
Research Boy," Dean said, grinning at him. When Sam was eight, Dean had
made him a badge and given him his "superhero" hunter name.
"You know, you can stop calling me that any year now."
"No, I really can't," Dean shook his head. Then he asked Al, "Anything
else you can tell us?"
Al just shook his head.
right," Sam said, putting the paper Al gave him in his notebook and
closing it. They had a few places they could start from to try to
figure out what was going on. "We'll let you know what we find out," he
"Thanks, boys. I'll let your dad know."
Dean and Sam stared at each other for a second, then Dean asked, "Let
looked confused for a second, then grinned. "He called this afternoon.
Said you'd be here soon, and that if I hadn't seen you by tomorrow
night I should call him."
Dean turned his gaping look on Sam. "He's checking up on us?"
"Looks like," Sam replied. Hoping that Dad wasn't checking up on them too
"Relax," Al said, giving them a wink. "I won't mention if you happen to
hit any strip clubs."
"Uh, thanks," Sam said.
"Hell, he'll probably think there's something wrong if we don't
hit a few strip clubs," Dean said, as though he was willing to make
that sacrifice. Often.
Al just laughed. "You boys give me a call if there's anything I can do."
"We will," Dean told him, and with that they headed out of the bar.
"Dad's checking up on us," Sam repeated as they were walking back to
calling," Dean said, as though correcting him. "It's not like he's
driving to Palo Alto and sitting outside the apartment."
Sam looked at him alarmed. "You don't think he would-"
stopped, and looked at him. He started to shake his head, but then he
frowned, slowly. "We could get some blackout curtains?"
They continued on to the car, and Dean offered to drop Sam off at the
library while he hit up the police station.
Shouldn't take us too long to get an end of a thread we can work from.
You need any of the info?" Sam asked gesturing at his notebook.
I just need times of death of all the bodies that've been dumped at
Morsen's Cemetery for the last twenty or more years." Dean grinned.
"How hard can that be to wrangle out of some local deputy?" He leaned
over and grabbed a cigar box out of the glove compartment, and Sam
watched him rifle through it until he found a Texas Ranger badge. He
held it up and grinned. "I love being a Ranger."
Sam snorted. "You never outgrew playing dress up, did you?"
"At least I never wore my underwear on my head."
"Yes, but I was four. You're twenty-two."
shot him a look. "Dude, I'm not wearing underwear on my head. I'm
flashing a badge to get information to find a murdering spirit." He
actually made it sound like he wasn't playing dress up.
"Yes, but you're enjoying it way too much," Sam pointed out
with a smirk.
"I am not."
"You so are."
"What are you, still four?" Dean asked, as though he hadn't been the
one to start it.
Sam ignored him. "Dean, you were all but bouncing when you took that
gave him a skeptical look. "Dude, whatever," he said, in his 'Sam,
you're insane' tone. He slipped the badge into his pocket and gave Sam
another 'you're insane' look.
"You sure you don't want a uniform?" Sam asked as sweetly as he could.
don't need a uniform," Dean said, scowling hard. "Texas Rangers don't
wear uniforms." He paused and looked thoughtful. "They do wear hats,
Sam couldn't keep from laughing.
Dean hit him in the chest. "What?"
"You're seriously thinking of going out and getting a hat, aren't you?"
Sam asked between chuckles.
harder, Dean said, "No." He pulled out the cigar box and dumped the
badge in, and pulled out a different ID. Sam didn't catch the words,
but it looked like a reporter's press pass. Dean slipped it into his
pocket and started the car.
Sam didn't say anything else, but did smirk every now and then when he
looked at his brother.
Dean was already in the motel room by the time Sam got back.
"How did it go with the police?" Sam asked, closing the door behind him
and flopping down on the bed.
Got the times of death of all the bodies found dumped at the cemetery."
Dean walked over beside the bed and dropped a manilla folder onto Sam's
stomach. "And guess what?"
"What?" Sam asked, picking up the folder.
of fourteen bodies found there over the last thirty five years, twelve
of them died at midnight." Dean looked pleased, then he shrugged. "Or
as close as they can figure. You know, accuracy of 'science'," he said,
"Interesting," Sam said. "Fits with what I found out."
Dean waited, expectantly, still standing -- looming -- over him.
did a search for any violent crimes involving a '60 or '61 Dodge cab."
He pulled out his notebook and flipped to the last page he'd written on
and held it up to Dean. "Found something."
"Yeah?" Dean leaned down slightly to read.
out that back in 1964, Khalid bin Ashraf was found dead in his cab at
-- get this -- Morsen's Cemetery. His throat was slashed. The police
thought he picked up his killer down on Virginia Street sometime after
11 pm the night before. And the coroner estimated the time of death at
around midnight," Sam recited, with a hint of satisfaction for his
"Looks like we've found our ghost," Dean
said, nodding. "Reliving his own murder, acting it out, getting
revenge," he listed the possible motivations, though he didn't sound
like it really mattered what the ghost's reasons were. "So, we find out
where Khalid is buried, salt and burn, and then we check out the strip
joints." He grinned. "We have our choice, you know. Reno's a real party
Sam grinned up at him. "Strip joints?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
There's the Mahamama, or the Que Sera, if we want girls. Or the Thunder
From Down Under is performing at the 5501 if we wanna see guys strip."
"You are such a dog," Sam observed fondly.
Dean frowned. "You don't wanna go?"
wouldn't be my first choice for celebrating a successful hunt," Sam
said, then gave an obviously played up martyred sigh. "But I suppose we
can hit the strip clubs first."
Now Dean was practically
pouting, then his face cleared and he grinned in a way that Sam knew
meant trouble. "Sammy, you've never been to a strip club."
tone was one Sam knew well. It was the one he always heard, hours or
days before he heard some authority figure saying "What am I going to
do with you two?"
Sam sighed in defeat, knowing when Dean got
that look in his eye there wasn't any arguing with him. "One strip
club," he said, giving in.
"That's the spirit. I'll even let you
pick. Guys or girls." Then he walked over to the chair and picked up
his jacket. "Come on, let's go find our dead cabbie and burn his ass."
He gave Sam a leering grin. "Then we can go look at better ones."
"I'm already looking at a better one," Sam said when Dean was turned
away from him.
like that will get you a private show, later," Dean said, smoothly,
all-business. "Right now, get your own ass up and let's go find our
Sam climbed off the bed. "You see, that was what my
first choice for celebrating was," he said as they headed out of the
"I know, but we really need to expand your horizons.
I'd be failing at my duty as your older brother if I didn't expose you
to every seedy, questionably-legal activity there was." Dean shook his
head. "I mean, I gave you your first beer, got you drunk off your ass,
and was the first guy to fuck you. But there's a whole slew of things
you're still missing."
"I dunno," Sam said, raising an eyebrow. "I think I just jumped a few
steps of depravity to get to the grand prize -- you."
gave him a mildly-annoyed look as he got in the car. "I'm not
depraved." Then he looked thoughtful, mouthed something, looking like
he was listing something off. "Huh. Okay, I'm depraved." He leered at
Sam. "Which means I get to go to strip clubs."
"I said I'd go," Sam pointed out. "I would just rather watch you
gonna shove dollar bills in my shorts?" Dean asked, waggling his
eyebrows. The engine roared as they pulled out and Sam saw his brother
stroke the dashboard, briefly. He wondered if Dean even knew he was
still doing that.
"You gonna give me a lap dance?" Sam countered, grinning at him.
"If you have twenty bucks," Dean replied.
"Do you take payment out in trade?"
"Does that mean you'll finally wash my car?"
"Just how good is this lap dance going to be?" Sam said, giving Dean a
twenty bucks! I'm not asking you to detail the car, just wash it.
That's, like, ten bucks." Dean took a turn towards what looked like
downtown Reno; the sun was setting and Sam realised that the Office of
the County Recorder would be long since closed.
He said as much to Dean. "Looks like Khalid bin Ashraf will have to
wait until tomorrow night."
"What are you talking about?" Dean gave him a sincerely confused look.
"We'll just break in."
Sam asked. "There's always been months or years between victims and
since there was one just last month, there probably isn't going to be
another tonight. If we wait for the morning, we can just walk right in
like normal people."
Dean looked surprised, mouth opening and
closing as he tried to form a response to what was clearly an
unexpected method of getting information.
Sam continued with the
biggest enticement, "Which would leave the rest of tonight for whatever
else we wanted to do. Like strip clubs."
Two seconds later, Dean was taking a right hand turn. "So! You decide
which you wanted?"
Sam smiled faintly at his brother's enthusiasm. "You're the expert.
Which do you prefer?"
you want a lap dance, we have to get girls. Unless you want it in some
seedy alley somewhere." Dean gave him a wink. "I'm perfectly willing to
buy my brother a prostitute, in the interest of corrupting him."
couldn't quite keep the expression of distaste off his face at that
thought. "I think that would be a little more corrupting than I want.
Let's stick with the girls, then."
"Hey, don't knock it," Dean
said. "Some very lovely people are prostitutes. But you're right -- you
really should have your first lap dance in the proper setting." He
nodded to himself, as though he had Sam's evening of expanded horizons
all planned out.
"Y'know, I really don't need-" Sam began,
feeling a little uncomfortable at how eager Dean seemed to be to push
strippers and prostitutes at him.
"Relax, Sammy. I wouldn't get
you a hooker. You know, since there's no way in hell I'd let you follow
through with one." There was a determined note in his brother's voice.
That settled Sam somewhat. "Good. Because I wouldn't want to... follow
looked at him for a long moment while they were stopped at a light.
"Sam. It's just for fun. All of it -- it doesn't mean...." He turned
back to the road as the light turned green. "You wanna just go back to
Sam thought about it before he answered, weighing
his own discomfort against Dean's obvious enthusiasm and wants. And,
when he thought about it that way, there really was no contest. "No,"
he finally said. He gave his brother a smile. "You want to go watch
strippers, we'll go watch strippers."
Immediately, Dean's grin
was back. "Great! You'll love it -- some of the moves these girls can
do with the pole...." He shook his head with a sigh of appreciation.
"How much cash do you have?"
"Actual cash? Maybe sixty..." Sam trailed off. "You're taking me to a
strip club and making me pay for it?"
made a face. "No! Not... all of it." He gave Sam a brief look that in
other circumstances Sam might have considered Dean's 'cute' look. "I've
only got a couple hundred on me. I just wanna make sure we've got
That was... a lot more than Sam had anticipated they'd
be needing... "Do I even want to know what you're planning on spending
"Sam! Drinks, tips, lap dance -- two hundred bucks is
only two hours for both of us. Reminds me, dig out some ID that says
you're old enough to do this." He nodded towards the glove compartment.
automatically obeyed, opening the glove compartment and going through
the box of false Ids to find one that would work for this. "Dean, are
you sure..." he began, but stopped himself before he asked if it was
worth the money. Dean wanted them to do this, therefore it was worth it.
passed for 21 before," Dean said, confidently. "I mean... except for
the time you got arrested. But I think that was because of the fire,
and not because you looked seventeen."
"Which you started."
Dean gaped at him in shock. "I thought it was haunted!"
Sam snorted. "So you told Dad."
"And he believed me, which is the only thing that matters."
"You'll notice that I am not Dad," Sam pointed out. "So why did
you decide you needed to burn down the caretaker's shed at school?"
There was a long pause, then Dean said, hesitantly, "I thought it was
Sam shook his head. "No, you didn't. The EMF meter didn't make a peep."
"Maybe I was drunk."
Sam just raised an eyebrow and waited.
drove in silence for a minute, then he sighed and said, "I was testing
out some stuff that was supposed to be non-flammable."
Sam thought that over for a minute. "So you set the shed on fire to
make sure you couldn't set the shed on fire?"
I was trying to set some rags on fire. I mean, not set them...." Dean
glared at him. "Do you want me to buy you a lap dance or not?" he
"Is that a trick question?"
Sam shook his head. "Never mind."
They drove for another moment, before Dean asked, quietly, "Would you
rather go see the guys?"
"No," Sam said honestly. He gave Dean a faint smile. "You want to watch
girl strippers, we'll go watch girl strippers."
looked at him askance as he pulled into a parking lot. "You could show
a little more enthusiasm for seeing naked girls. I thought you said you
Sam could see a brightly lit sign that read
'Que Sera.' There were a few customers going in, well-dressed
businessmen -- mostly in their forties. "I do," Sam said. "I just..."
"What?" Dean turned towards him, looking at him curiously. He seemed to
Sam shrugged, looked away, then back before finally blurting, "I just
like you more."
was a stunned look on his brother's face for a second, before he
smiled. The smile grew wide, then practically foolish, as it reached
all the way to his eyes. Sam found himself smiling back; it was
impossible not to.
"I don't dance," Dean said, trying to sound stern and failing,
Sam tilted his head to the side, considering. "You've always moved
pretty good with me," he said.
guess I do okay with a partner," Dean said, shrugging, still smiling,
eyes still shining. "You'd rather go back to the motel?" It was half a
question, and half an offer.
"I want to do whatever you want to do," Sam said, meaning it, thinking 'Whatever
keeps you smiling like that.
looked over at the club, considering. He stared at it for several long
moments, before he glanced back at Sam. He opened his mouth, then
frowned. He glanced at the club again.
"You can't decide, can you?"
Dean gave him a pitiful look. "I want to do both," he said.
Sam chuckled, leaned over and kissed him.
When Sam leaned back, Dean stared at him with slightly unfocused eyes.
Then he said, "Motel."
The ride back to the motel passed mostly with them grinning at
other and the occasional grope or kiss when they were stopped at a
light. Much better foreplay, Sam thought, than a strip club. Dean
certainly didn't seem to mind, despite how enthusiastically he'd been
shoving the idea at Sam before. But when they parked in front of their
room and got out of the car, Dean growled, "Inside."
The sound of Dean's voice went straight to Sam's cock. He shivered and
practically ran inside.
was on his heels, almost but not quite pressing against him as Sam
fumbled for the key. It was almost worse than if he'd touched him,
teasing him with proximity without the payoff of contact. It was so
distracting that it took Sam three tries to actually get the key in the
door, but he managed it finally, opening the door and taking two steps
inside before being overwhelmed by Dean.
The door slammed hard,
echoing loudly in the small room, but Sam had no time or interest in
mentioning the neighbors' comfort. Dean was holding him, hands already
running up Sam's side, tugging at his shirt and sweater, fingers
finding their way to his bare skin.
Sam grabbed onto Dean's
jacket, pulling him even closer and devoured his mouth again, becoming
frantic for whatever skin on skin contact he could get.
Dean making noise, dismissing it as the same sort of 'need more, naked
now' noises he was making, himself. But then Dean put his hands on
either side of Sam's face and pulled back, and grinned at him.
"Seems to me somebody asked about a lap dance."
stared at him wide eyed, arousal surging through him at the thought. He
had to clear his throat before he could reply. "Somebody might have,
His brother gave him a none-to-gentle push backwards,
towards the bed. Dean only took a single step after him, raising a hand
towards his jacket. Sam sank slowly onto the edge of the bed, his eyes
never leaving his brother. Dean gave him a smirk that, given the
situation, didn't seem nearly as smug as it might have. The glint in
Dean's eyes did make Sam worry just what he was in store for.
a slight hip sway, Dean pushed his jacket off his shoulders and let it
fall, catching it in his hands and letting it dangle behind him.
Despite his earlier words to the contrary, Dean had always had an
innate grace in how he moved. Sam loved to watch him normally, but this
was going beyond that. Sam couldn't have looked away if he tried.
was another hip-bump, slow and easy, and Dean took another step
forward. His jacket fell to the floor behind him, and Dean raised his
hands to his waist, hands hovering over the waistband. Teasing. Sam
found himself leaning forward, licking his lips in anticipation.
chuckled, low and more arousing than frustrating. He brought his hands
to either side of his waist and pulled his shirt off in one smooth
motion. He held it forward and dropped it on the floor between them.
left him still clothed in a tight t-shirt. Sam suppressed a groan. The
layers they both tended to dress in made getting to bare skin more
"Patience, Sammy," Dean said, pitching his voice in
a soft, sultry tone that made the idea of 'patience' almost a foreign
one. He glanced down, looked confounded for just a moment, then he
smiled and twisted around, standing in profile.
Then he bent over at the waist, and untied his shoe.
Oh god. Dean was trying to kill him.
Slowly Dean stood -- still bending from the waist, his ass out but not
quite turned so Sam could get a really
good look. Dean toed off the shoe he'd untied then twisted around
slowly to the other side -- back to Sam for an all-too-brief moment.
Then he was down again, for the other shoe.
Sam wasn't able to keep from groaning this time. "Dean," he began, but
trailed off when Dean looked up to him.
His brother didn't answer, just pivoted again to face him. He stood for
a moment, arms back slightly and hips doing... something
that made it difficult to breathe. Forward, back, in a rhythm that Sam
suddenly realised he could hear. Dean was humming to himself, something
Then Dean ran his hands up his stomach, and chest, all
the way to his neck, where they stopped. Sam found himself holding his
breath waiting, and leaning forward a little bit more. Then Dean's
hands ran slowly back down, and he was moving forward -- not close
enough to touch, but close enough to tease.
Dean reached his
waist and slid his thumbs inside the waistband of his jeans. Sam stared
as Dean brought his hands together...and popped the first button
undone. Sam's fingers itched with the need to move and undo those
buttons himself. He clutched his hands into the bedspread to keep
himself in place.
After the first button was opened, Dean
stopped, swaying his hips back and forth. Then he ran his fingers down,
sharply, and pulled the fly completely open. As he moved his hands back
along his hips, beneath his jeans, he turned around.
"Dean," Sam groaned. His own jeans were beginning to feel more than a
his back to Sam, Dean pushed his jeans down. He kept moving his hips
and legs in a slow shimmy that pulled his jeans down to his ankles. Sam
hardly noticed that Dean was also pulling his t-shirt off. Then Dean
turned back around, dressed only in a black pair of boxer briefs, still
moving in time to the music Sam could barely hear. Then his brother
moved forward -- finally. As his brother came within reach, Sam
automatically reached out his hands to touch him.
Perversely, Dean moved back. "Ah ah, no touching."
He couldn't have heard that right. "What?"
a lap dance, Sammy. Us working girls are dancers, not hookers. You
don't get to touch. Just sit." Dean smiled, and it was impossible for
Sam to tell if his brother was serious.
"You're joking," Sam said faintly.
it up," Dean said, and he smiled, impossibly evil and seductive and
honest at the same time. "You want me to keep going, or you wanna hit
the library?" He swiveled his hips, leaning closer then away once more.
"You seriously expect me to sit here and not touch you while
you..." Sam gestured at Dean's hips, "do that?"
the idea." Dean grinned. "Unless you don't want your lap dance?" Dean
hummed softly, swaying again, spreading his legs as though he were
straddling Sam's lap.
Sam groaned again.
Dean said again, dipping his voice low and jutting his hips forward.
"Library?" As though any option that involved leaving was even possible.
"Break into the County Recorder's Office and go burn a corpse?"
Dean could manage to say those words and still sound aroused, Sam had
no fucking clue. And he was -- there was no mistaking just how aroused
his brother was.
"We're not breaking into the County Recorder's
Office," Sam managed to say, though he didn't sound nearly as forceful
as he would usually.
"Then which," Dean asked, and he moved --
scooted? shimmied? teleported? -- closer. All Sam knew was his lap was
suddenly full of Dean, gyrating. "Do you want?" Dean leaned in, mouth
coming close then pulling back before any skin made contact.
"N-not the library," Sam said, not surprised that he stammered.
smiled down at him, moved in again and moved away. "Then you'll sit
there like a good boy and keep your hands to yourself?" He licked his
lips and ran his hands across his chest. Still dancing, still torturing
Sam with every move he made.
"I'll try," Sam finally said, all he could promise, unable to take his
eyes off of his brother's movements.
boy," Dean said, smiling with a hint of smugness and a whole lot of
desire. He tilted his head down as if to kiss him, and stayed there
while he continued to move his hips. Back and forth, holding himself
above Sam's legs so that the contact was minimal, he occasionally
pushed himself upward then lowered himself again in a motion that could
only make Sam think of his brother riding his cock.
twitched, but he managed to keep them at his sides. "You're-" Sam's
voice cracked and he licked his lips and tried again. "You're good at
Dean winked. "That's why I get the good tips."
Sam swallowed. "What kind of tip do you want from me?"
Dean did another hip swivel, and spun around, stopping with his back to
Sam. Dean winked at him again over his shoulder. "Whatever you wanna
give me," he said in a seductive tone.
Sam opened his mouth to say something teasing back, but instead a
heartfelt, "Everything," fell from his lips.
stumbled, hip still half-cocked to one side as he caught his balance
and stood still. Sam could see him try to grin it off, but the look in
his eyes took over his entire expression.
It took Sam's breath
away, the hope and happiness he saw there, still guarded, but... "I
mean it," he said, just to keep that look there. "Everything."
turned towards Sam, and he wrapped his arms around himself, taking a
half step backwards then clearly forcing himself to stop. He didn't
look like he was trying to run -- he simply looked shocked.
Sam wanted to go to him, but... "Dean?"
could see Dean starting to calm down -- or shut down. It was too hard
to tell just yet. But Dean let go of himself, letting his arms fall and
he gave Sam a grin which didn't look at all real. It made Sam feel like
he was the focus of one of Dean's hustles. Dean opened his mouth to
speak, something sly and charming, but his voice was hoarse when he
said, "Always wanted a sugar daddy."
His fists were closing, and opening, and Sam realised he was trying
very hard not to run.
was up and across the room to Dean before he'd fully formed the intent
to do so, wrapping his arms around his brother tightly. "I want to give
you everything," he repeated, because he wanted to make Dean
hear him, believe him. "That's what you've been giving me for pretty
much my entire life."
okay," Dean said, but his voice was still shaking, and he couldn't
quite seem to get his arms wrapped around Sam. He felt Dean take a deep
breath, and let it out, some of the tension seeming to vanish with it.
"Sorry," Dean said, in a much more normal tone of voice. "You can't say
shit like that without warning me." He tried to laugh.
didn't let go; if anything he held on tighter. "It's not shit," he said
mildly. "And I'll get you to believe it one of these days."
a sort of choked laugh, Dean said, "Yeah, yeah." But he slipped his
arms around Sam's waist and held on. After a moment he complained,
"That was one of my best performances, too."
"We don't need to stop," Sam said. "Though I don't know if I can stop
He felt Dean take another deep breath. "Sam, would you--" he said in a
rush, then stopped.
"Would I what?"
turned his head, pressing his face into Sam's neck. Like he was hiding,
still, but now he was hiding in Sam's arms. "You wanna fuck me?" he
Sam's breath caught. They hadn't, not since that first
time which had ended with Dean bolting and locking himself in the
bathroom. "Hell, yeah," he said, husky voiced. "But only if you want me
"I want....I really want you to," Dean said quietly. "I--"
He stopped again and gave another half-laugh. "I pretty much always
want you to." He rubbed his hands down Sam's back, and leaned back
enough to look at Sam. His eyes were clear as he looked at Sam,
"All right," Sam said, feeling his heart beat faster. He couldn't have
looked away from Dean's eyes if he tried.
held his gaze for another moment, then the corner of his mouth quirked.
Sam smiled slightly in response and leaned in to kiss him.
gonna... head over there or do you wanna do it here?" There was a hint
of a light tone in his brother's voice, still heavy with deeper -- and
still darker -- emotions. But it was there. Sam noticed that Dean
wasn't trying to move, though.
"Which would you prefer?" Sam
asked, making a show of considering, and choosing his words very
deliberately. "Me fucking you on the bed, or me fucking you up against
the wall here?"
Dean's jaw fell and his brother stared back at him, eyes dilating with
Sam felt himself smiling just a little smugly. "Well?"
made a strangled noise, and jerked his thumb. "Wa--?" he began, then
swallowed and visibly tried to regain control of himself.
want me to fuck you up against the wall?" Sam asked, keeping his voice
as level and casual as he could, which wasn't easy considering the
The noise Dean made sounded a hell of a lot like the
noise he made right before he came. His brother nodded, fast, giving
Sam a pleading look.
"Okay," Sam said, with a cocky smile. It
was a heady feeling knowing that he could do that to his brother with
just words. He leaned in and kissed him hard.
Dean pulled him into the kiss, tongue flicking into Sam's mouth and
brushing against Sam's tongue. Tease, invitation, more begging --
Dean's hands were gripping his arms tightly, tugging at him. His
erection, hard and hot through the thin fabric of his underwear,
pressed against Sam's hip.
Still kissing him, Sam slid a hand
between them, pushing Dean's underwear down enough that he could wrap a
hand around his brother's cock. He wanted to make Dean frantic and out
of his mind. The trick was going to be doing that without reducing
himself to the same state.
From the reaction he got as his hand
closed on Dean, his brother wasn't that far off from being right where
Sam wanted him to be. Dean shoved his hips forward, trying to fuck
himself in Sam's fist.
Sam held on tight, not giving Dean the
friction he wanted, not just yet. "Wall," he murmured against Dean's
lips, pushing him backwards towards it.
Stumbling, Dean went,
quickly finding his balance and turning around to face the wall, palms
flat and spreading his legs. And god didn't that sight alone make Sam
almost lose it. "You're so hot like this," he murmured, kissing Dean
between his shoulder blades as he pushed Dean's underwear down far
enough for Dean to be able to kick them off. "I think I could almost
come just by watching you."
"No, want you to fuck me," Dean
said, the tease in his voice getting lost in the tone of utter need. He
moved his hips forward, then back, reminiscent of the dance he'd done
Sam swallowed hard, reaching out to rest a hand on Dean's hip, feeling
him move. "Yeah," he said thickly.
Sammy." Dean dropped his head forward against the wall. His hips were
still moving, jerking back and forth as though Sam were already inside
him. Then he moved his hip to the side, against Sam's hand. "Fuck," he
That's when Sam realised that he didn't have any lube on
him. "Damn," he muttered, letting go of Dean to go dig it out of their
bag. "Don't move," he ordered before Dean could turn around. "I'll be
"Wha--?" He saw Dean look over his shoulder -- otherwise not moving. As
Sam walked away, he said, "I hate you right now."
you don't," Sam countered mildly. He found the right bag and began
pushing things aside looking for the lube. "Just need to get something
here if I'm going to fuck you."
"Sam!" Dean protested, groaning. "Carry it on you!" The
reprimand would have held more weight, if it were to hold any, if Dean
hadn't sounded so desperate.
hand closed around the lube finally and he pulled it out. As he did so
his hand brushed up against the black dildo that Dean had bought to use
on him. The sudden mental picture of using it on Dean now was so strong
it made him groan. Grabbing it as well with hands that were shaking
slightly, he made his way back over to Dean.
"You got--" Dean stopped, and stared at the dildo. His jaw dropped
again, then he said, "Fuck me, goddamnit."
Sam grinned at him. "That's the plan."
Dean commanded, and his eyes flicked up to Sam's face, then back to the
dildo, then Dean turned back around to face the wall.
you're demanding." Sam quickly prepped his brother, trying to ignore
the feel of Dean closing around his fingers. Then he took the dildo and
pressed it against Dean, but not with enough pressure to push it
Dean cried out and his forehead hit the wall with a thump. He tried
pushing himself back, onto the dildo.
moved it with him, keeping it pressed against him but not inside. "The
last time we used this," he said in a low rough voice, close to Dean's
ear, "was when you fucked me with it. And now I'm going to fuck you
with it. Something that's been in my body is going to be in yours." He
kept all his attention on Dean and his reactions, doing his best to
ignore his own for now. He wanted to make this beyond good for Dean.
Sammy," Dean begged, and his hips jerked back, their movement arrested
as though Dean knew Sam wouldn't let him fuck himself. "Come on, fuck
His voice was growing harsh and his fingers were curling
against the wall, digging for something to hang onto. He pressed his
hips forward and moaned; Sam realised Dean was rubbing his cock against
"Oh, no, you don't," Sam muttered, grabbing Dean's
hips and pulling him back until he was far enough away from the wall
that he couldn't touch it. It also had the added benefit of bending him
over slightly, turning Dean into a walking invitation to be fucked.
It wasn't one Sam could resist. With a twist of the wrist, he slid the
dildo into his brother.
noise of protest that had started when Sam pulled him back broke into a
sharp outcry. Dean started begging again, babbling Sam's name and the
words please, and 'fuck me'. He was still trying to shove himself back
on the dildo and his left hand slipped down the wall.
hand that wasn't holding the dildo, Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's
left hand, pulling it back up to its original position. "Keep them
there," he said, then began to move the dildo in and out. Slowly. He
wanted to make this last as long as they both could stand.
god," Dean whispered, and Sam could see him squeeze his eyes shut,
tightly. "Please, please, fuck me, fuck me." Dean was trembling,
muscles in his back rippling as he tried to hold himself still. He
rubbed his forehead against the wall, exactly the same way he'd tried
to rub his cock. "Please, fuck, Sam."
Dean was so hot like this,
hard and wanting and begging Sam, that suddenly the dildo wasn't
enough. Not for Dean and not for Sam either. He pulled it out and
dropped it, and quickly opened his fly and pulled his cock out to
replace it with. Moving directly behind Dean, he grabbed onto his
brother's hip with one hand to brace himself as he guided himself into
place with the other. "Say it again."
"Fuck me, fuck me, dear god Sam please fuck me." Dean was panting now,
voice twisted into something hard and thin and breaking.
"Yes," Sam growled, pushing into Dean in one long steady thrust.
god," Dean groaned, and the desperation seemed to fade as he took a
deep breath and, perversely, seemed to relax for just a moment.
to the hilt, Sam stilled, wrapping his arms around Dean and leaning his
head onto Dean's shoulder. Aroused as he was there was a sort of peace
in the moment, of being as close to his brother as he could physically
get. He couldn't hold back the whispered, "Love you," as he tightened
Dean whimpered again, but it was impossible to tell if
it was from the fucking, the words, or a mixture of both. But when Dean
whispered, "Fuck me," he seemed perfectly content -- if still desperate
Sam's body was definitely in agreement with that idea
and he started to move. He could feel Dean trying to take a deeper
breath as he slid into him; it came out as a wordless groan when Sam
pulled back. Dean's hips were still jerking slightly, with no real
rhythm. He slid one hand down Dean's body until it could close around
his cock again.
Dean's head came back, resting on Sam's
shoulder. Eyes still closed, mouth open, he looked completely
debauched. "Please, Sam," he begged, softly.
"Yeah," Sam said, moving his hand in time with his thrusts. "I've got
Dean's weight fell on Sam, hands still splayed on the wall. Dean's
moans grew sharp with each movement of Sam's hand and each thrust of
his cock. Sam could feel Dean's body coiling up with tension. The shaky
movement of his hips grew sharper and his moans grew quieter. When he
fell silent, Sam knew he was about to come.
Into that silence Sam whispered, "I've got you -- always."
Dean came, mouth open in a silent exhalation of breath, cock hard in
Sam's hand and his entire body pressing back against Sam.
groaned, becoming more aware of his own body's demands now that he
wasn't so completely focused on Dean's. Grabbing Dean's hips in both
hands, he pounded into him with all the desperation in him.
"Come on, Sammy," Dean whispered, encouraging him. He leaned forward
again, bracing himself as Sam fucked him.
"God," Sam groaned as he moved. He needed this, needed it so much that
it almost scared him. "Dean..."
"Fuck me," Dean said, and he moved his hips, slowly, another echo of
dancing. "Harder, baby, fuck me."
did, feeling his own climax getting close. Dean kept talking to him,
encouraging him and whispering 'fuck me', though the tone had changed
from desperate arousal to something else. Enticing, seductive, and he
could feel Dean moving with him.
It became just enough, or too much as, with a cry that seemed to come
from the bottom of his very soul, Sam came.
held still, still whispering words Sam couldn't quite hear. His tone
was soft and gentle, and that was all Sam really needed to know. When
it was over, Sam didn't want to move. He leaned against Dean's back,
unsure if his legs would hold him if he tried to pull away. Dean seemed
perfectly willing to hold him up; he reached down with one hand and
stroked Sam's arm, lightly. Then he turned his head, leaning back just
enough to give Sam a kiss.
Sam kissed him back, slowly, gently, then sighed and rested his head
against Dean's shoulder again. "You okay?" he whispered.
Sam's mouth curved up into an involuntary smile. "Is that a yes?"
held his arms, pulling them tight in an embrace. "If you have to ask...
yes, I'm good. I'm great, I'm fantastic, you're amazing and we can do
this again whenever you want."
Sam chuckled, the last little bit
of tension leaving his body. "Good." He paused. "You might need to give
me a few minutes to recover..."
"Sure, Sammy," Dean said,
indulgently. He patted Sam's arm as though his own legs weren't about
to buckle. He did lean them both forward, resting on his arm against
"I think I'm beginning to see the disadvantage of wall
over bed," Sam observed wryly, though he still didn't move more than he
"No, no," Dean protested immediately. "Wall's good. Just hang onto me."
Sam chuckled again. "Okay."
sighed contentedly. He gave Sam's arm another light rub, then he
stilled. He grew quiet, and Sam could feel how relaxed his brother was.
It was rather amazing that Dean could still stand, but perhaps that was
due primarily to the wall.
"You know," Dean said, hesitantly.
"I've been fucked against a lot of walls." He glanced back at Sam.
"This is the first time-- I've been made love to." He looked away and
fell silent again.
Sam tightened his arms around him, a fierce
protective love overwhelming him at his brother's words. "Won't be the
last," he promised.
"Good," Dean said, smirking. "'Cause I was kinda worried for a while."
"You never have to worry about how I feel about you."
"Not that," Dean said lightly. "Thought you didn't like fucking me."
Then he pouted.
Sam laughed. "There's not much I like more than fucking you," he said.
"What?" Dean twisted around, then pulled himself just far enough free
of Sam that he could turn around completely.
thought you didn't like it. Me fucking you, I mean," Sam couldn't quite
bring himself to meet Dean's eyes. "After what happened last time..."
Dean's eyes popped open, looking like he'd just been told Sam thought
he didn't like Led Zeppelin. He frowned, thinking. Then his amusement
vanished and he sighed. "No, that was...." Dean shook his head sharply
and said determinedly, "I love being fucked, love you fucking me, do it
whenever you want, every morning, noon, night if you think it won't
fall off." He glanced down as if Sam might not know what 'it' was.
"It's pretty firmly attached," Sam said, mouth quirking up at the
"Kinda short though," Dean said, tilting his head a little.
it's fine," Dean said, placating. "Don't worry about it." There was a
pause, then he said, "You probably still have another growth spurt
"I didn't hear any complaints a few minutes ago," Sam pointed out. "And
it is bigger than yours."
"Have you never seen mine?" Dean asked. He held up his fingers, forming
Sam snorted. "It's very nice, Dean, but I can safely say you're a
little delusional there."
"Do I need to get a tape measure?"
"Only if you want to be embarrassed and have to eat your words."
I hate to break it to you, but my cock is much bigger around than
yours. It's okay, though. I like yours." He managed to make his words
sound thoroughly patronising.
"Considering you were practically
begging for me to fuck you with it a few minutes ago..." Sam said,
crossing his arms over his chest.
Dean nodded. "I was. I will, again. I'm not saying it isn't nice." He
reached down and gave Sam a pat.
"Y'know, I just can't believe you sometimes."
Eyebrows up in a disbelieving expression, Dean shook his head. "What?"
"This is your idea of afterglow?" Sam asked disbelievingly.
"Insulting the equipment?"
"Coming from a guy who always wants to fucking talk when I'm
falling asleep after sex?"
"I've never talked smack though," Sam protested.
Dean goggled at him. "Talked smack?"
"Well, what do you call this?"
"Sammy, where the hell do you pick up your slang? I know I taught you
better." Dean shook his head.
Sam shook his head and muttered under his breath as he moved away and
began peeling off his clothes.
know, you can actually cuss, now. You're an adult," Dean said. Dean
reached down and grabbed the t-shirt he'd left lying on the floor and
began wiping himself off with it.
Sam paused in his undressing. "You want me to swear at you?"
"Not at me.
I'm saying you can say things like 'talking shit.'" Dean glanced at the
wall, then knelt down and began wiping it clean, as well.
"So you admit that's what you were doing."
as if." Dean dropped the t-shirt and walked over to the bed. He flopped
down, bouncing as he leaned up against the headboard. Sam finished
getting undressed and crawled onto the bed beside him. It had to be
love -- even when his brother was being an ass, Sam wanted to be near
Dean held his arm up, letting Sam settle against him, then
wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulders. "Hey," Dean said, more
Sam looked up at him inquisitively.
looking at him calmly, emotions clear on his face that he so often kept
hidden away. Dean gave his shoulders a squeeze, and said, "Mine really
"Jerk," Sam replied, resting his head on Dean's shoulder. "Delusional
Dean just laughed.
Dean had been humming to himself off and on all day.
but with some AC/DC thrown in. At the moment he was humming Metallica's
Low Man's Lyric -- the same song he'd sung to himself while stripping
for Sam. That was, depending on how you looked at it, either a very
good or a very bad thing. Sam liked listening to Dean, and he had the
feeling that that particular song was always going to be a favourite
now because of last night.
The downside of it reminding him of last night was that it was also
making Sam hard.
couldn't tell that Dean was having any such problems -- all day he'd
been focused on the job, from the time they'd finally woken up and
dragged themselves out of the motel room and hit the County Recorder's
office until now. If it hadn't been for the way Dean kept sitting so
carefully, Sam might have doubted his brother remembered last night at
all. But he seemed happy. Fully immersed in the hunt as they'd been all
day, Dean had seemed alive in a way that Sam hadn't seen in a while.
Not since they'd moved to Palo Alto.
As they pulled up to the parking lot to the cemetery, Dean threw him a
wide grin. "You know, most kids grew up being told not to play
in the dirt and get horribly filthy."
I think most kids when they play in the dirt aren't going around
digging up graves of angry spirits," Sam pointed out, though he
couldn't work much heat into the comment in the face of his brother's
Dean frowned at him as he parked the car next to a huge old ash tree.
"Don't you ever pretend we're digging a tunnel to China?"
Sam stared at him. "You pretend we're digging a tunnel to China?"
anymore." Dean made a face. "But when I was little, sometimes. Yeah. Or
I'd pretend I was digging an underground bunker to hide from the alien
"Your brain scares me sometimes."
"My brain? We're digging up corpses, and my brain
is what scares you?" Dean gave him a dubious look as he climbed out of
the car. He walked around to the trunk and popped it open, then pulled
up the top panel, revealing an array of weapons.
"The digging up corpses I've got used to," Sam said, joining him at the
trunk. "Your brain keeps surprising me."
Dean just shook his head sadly. "My
brain," he repeated, and he passed his hand over a small collection of
sawed-off shotguns to grab a shovel from the rear of the trunk. He
handed it to Sam, then grabbed a large can of lighter fluid.
"Your brain," Sam confirmed.
know what would help you get over your unreasonable fear," Dean began,
in a tone that made Sam absolutely certain that he was going to
disagree with whatever Dean said next.
"I'm almost afraid to ask," he said dryly.
gestured towards the graves. "You should dig him up by yourself.
Pretend you're digging to China." He nodded, seriously. "So you'll see
what I'm talking about."
Sam rolled his eyes. "You got everything?" he said with long suffering
His brother held up the lighter fluid and a book of matches. "I got
everything I need."
"Dude, I have to do everything?" Dean made no move to grab the can of
salt from the trunk.
With another roll of his eyes, Sam shifted the shovels he was carrying
and grabbed the salt.
Dean closed the trunk and, with a grin, headed out to the cemetery.
They didn't know exactly where Khalid was buried, so they were going to
have to search the entire cemetery. Not unusual, and Sam was grateful
they were looking for a marked grave and not an unlabelled one in the
middle of nowhere.
"Just a romantic walk in the moonlight, huh?" Sam said, with sudden
humour at the absurdity that was their lives.
Dean shot him a smile. "Nah. Romantic would be if we'd remembered to
Sam snorted. "Yeah, you would say that."
not romantic? Hey, you take that row," Dean said, gesturing to one row
of graves, as he headed for the one in front of it. "So if beer isn't
romantic, what is? Diet soda? Or did you want beer and pizza?"
Sam gave it some thought as he slowly made his way down the row,
checking graves. "I'd just want you, I think."
"Pizza with extra pepperoni, onions, pineapple?" Dean asked, dubiously.
"I don't need them for romantic," Sam said shaking his head. "Just you.
Which probably says something about how scary my brain is..."
looked at him like he thought Sam was insane. Then he shook his head.
"I can see our anniversaries are gonna be easy--" Then he stopped and
looked like he'd just swallowed his tongue.
Sam stopped and looked over at him. "Dean?" he asked concerned.
brother shook his head, staring out across the gravestones. He looked
stunned, like he was trying hard to reboot his brain. And failing. He
rubbed a hand across his face and breathed out, "Wow. Okay. Um. Yeah."
Sam watched as Dean took another deep breath. "Are you okay?" Sam asked
he said easily, though Sam could tell it was a reflex. Dean started
walking again, though, looking at the graves. After a moment he glanced
up at Sam. "Sorry. I just...you know." He waved his hand in a circle.
"Anniversaries." He still sounded stunned.
"Anniversaries bother you?" Sam asked carefully, scanning more
tombstones as he walked.
"Don't know, never had any."
"Sure you have."
That brought Dean to a halt. "What anniversaries?"
can be an anniversary that's important enough," Sam said with a shrug.
"For me, it's stuff like the first time I went hunting with you and
Dad. Or..." he glanced sideways at his brother, "the first time I
looked at you and knew I wanted you."
"Oh god, you're gonna be
one of those," Dean said, grinning with mock-fear, but still looking
and sounding stunned. "I'm gonna have to remember our first date, our
first kiss, our first everything, aren't I?"
Sam raised an eyebrow at him. "You're telling me you don't?"
Dean teased him with a mildly disgusted look. "You're such a girl."
"When was the first time you jerked off, thinking about me?"
I was fifteen, just after I accidentally walked in on you and the
sheriff's daughter having sex in the living room," Sam replied, not
really having to think about it. It had been a... memorable evening to
say the least.
Dean's grin was positively lecherous. "When was the first time you
kissed a boy?"
That one required even less thought. "Three months, two weeks and four
Dean's grin faltered. "Excuse me?"
"Three months, two weeks and four days ago," Sam repeated. He glanced
over at Dean. "You should know. You were there."
"You never even kissed a boy before me?" Dean looked honestly
Sam shrugged. "There wasn't another boy I wanted to."
"You have really lived a sheltered life," Dean said, shaking
his head sadly. "But my point still stands -- you are a girl."
"When was the first time you
jerked off, thinking about me?" Sam countered, half serious, half
curious. "And don't tell me you don't remember because I won't believe
Dean turned his attention towards the gravestones, walking
along as though he weren't having the conversation at all. After a
moment he said, "Fine. Can we just find Khalid bin Ashraf?"
"We're looking," Sam told him, now more curious. "Dean? When was the
glared at him, and began walking a bit faster. But after a moment he
said, "We were in Michigan, looking for a ghost that was haunting a
bookstore. Dad took you to stake out the store while I kept an eye on
the guy's house, who owned it."
Sam frowned, trying to place the
case; a lot of them started to blur together after a while. Although
bookstore did sound vaguely familiar.
There was a sigh from Dean. "Four years ago, June."
looked at him startled. "When I was fourteen," he said. He remembered
now; Dean had been weird and strangely twitchy around him for a while
"Yes," Dean said, and the disgust was unmistakable. "I
was a perv, all right?" He started walking faster, staring down at the
gravestones. When he reached the end of the row, he stormed around,
past the aisle Sam was in, and began walking down the next, towards Sam.
don't think you were a perv," Sam said, turning this new piece of
knowledge over in his head. He liked knowing Dean had wanted him that
long and it also helped knowing that the reason Dean had tried to avoid
him, as that had hurt more than he'd ever admit.
"Can we drop this?"
"You weren't," Sam insisted. "You... just had to wait for me to catch
"Whatever," Dean replied, sighing. He kept walking, his back now to Sam.
Sam sighed and moved to catch up. "What other firsts do you remember?"
"My first kill," Dean said immediately. "Ghost in Newark." He sounded
"I remember that," Sam said with a smile. Dean had been practically
vibrating with excitement. "What else?"
"First girl I kissed," Dean said, casually. "First boy."
Sam wasn't sure he wanted to know the details of that, especially
Dean's first kiss with a boy. He knew he wasn't his brother's
first, but that didn't mean he liked to imagine those that had come
saw Dean glance back at him, and there was an evil, taunting grin on
his brother's face. "Christina, age 15. I was 13, and she kissed me on
the mouth behind her house after I walked her home. Dustin Calloway,
same year. He was 14, and a really bad kisser, honestly. But he had his
hand down my--"
"I take it back. You were a perv."
"Hey! He's the one who put his hand in my shirt," Dean
"Whatever," Sam said, really not wanting to think about it.
Lee," Dean continued. "I was fourteen, she was eighteen, maybe. Maybe
not. First girl I ever fucked. Casper Winston, first boy I jerked off.
I was fourteen, he jerked me off, too." He sent Sam another grin, as
though he knew he was only pissing Sam off, more. "Danny, first guy who
ever fucked me--"
Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder, spun him around
and kissed him hard. Stopping that flow of words describing people not
him touching Dean, as well as exerting his own claim on his brother now.
was a sort of surprised noise from Dean, muffled by the kiss. But he
kissed Sam back, eagerly. When he could talk, he said, "So, you get
jealous, I get kissed?"
"Either that," Sam growled, kissing him briefly again, "or I kick your
"Hmm," was all Dean said. Then he started walking down the line of
graves again. "Ben Tyler, first blow job--"
guy named Duke, first sex in a car. Can't tell you the name of the
first blow job I gave, but the first woman I went down on--"
part of I don't want to hear this are you not getting?" Sam was getting
awfully close to shoving Dean away in disgust. Which wasn't exactly
fair, he knew, as his feelings weren't exactly fair, but Dean was just
trying to wind him up now.
"You kissed me," Dean pointed out. "That isn't exactly punishment."
it's the only way to get you to shut up!" The words come out with far
more emphasis and almost anger than Sam had intended.
With a startled look, Dean snapped his mouth closed and walked away,
head down and turned towards the gravestones.
Sam bit back an angry curse and followed him. "Dean, wait. That
all right," Dean said, in a tone that said very clearly that it wasn't.
He kept walking, quickly. "I won't talk about it anymore."
sighed in frustration and ran the hand that wasn't carrying the shovels
through his hair. "That's not... I didn't...." He took a deep breath
and tried again to express his jumbled thoughts. "I want you to be able
to talk about anything you want with me -- that's one of the things
about what we have that I crave the most. No secrets. But..." He sighed
again and admitted, "It's... hard to think about other people touching
"Then I won't tell you about it," Dean said, sounding
almost gentle, apologetic. "Those aren't.. secrets you need to worry
about, anyway. Come on, let's just find this guy's bones and burn them."
nodded and reached out his free hand to touch Dean's back as the
continued down the row. Needing to make that contact. He felt Dean
Dammit, this wasn't what he wanted. Frustrated and
pretty sure that if he tried with words again, he'd fail just as
miserably as he obviously already had, Sam went for actions instead,
pulling Dean around and kissing him again.
He felt Dean's hands
on his chest -- pushing him back. Not hard, but breaking the kiss.
"Sam, what are you doing?" He didn't sound angry, or upset. Just sad.
Sam let out a breath and rested his head on Dean's shoulder. "I don't
know," he admitted.
don't have to...apologise, or make this better. It's fine. I'm fine.
You and me, we're good." The last, at least, sounded honest. And Dean
wasn't trying to move away from him, content to stand close enough they
could be kissing again.
"I don't know why I got so... over the
idea of you being with other people in the past," Sam said, leaving his
head on Dean's shoulder. "It shouldn't matter but... You're mine.
Guess it's hard to be confronted with the fact that there was a time
that wasn't entirely true."
He felt a kiss on the side of his head, and Dean rubbed his arm. "It's
always been true. The things I did don't change that."
know." Sam did, really. "I guess... I'm just territorial." He lifted
his head and managed a faint smile. "You're my territory."
was a look in Dean's eyes that threatened to make Sam's heart stop
beating. He nudged Sam's nose with his own, and said, his voice
Something in Sam's chest eased at that. "Don't you forget it," he told
Dean, smile bigger now.
Dean gave him a smile, chucking a little. "It's been eighteen years, I
doubt I could forget it now."
"There's an anniversary for you to remember then," Sam teased, feeling
back on solid ground again.
a serious expression, Dean looked him in the eye and said, "Never
forgot your birthday. Not once." He leaned in and gave Sam a kiss.
closed his eyes and kissed him back. He might not say the actual words
very often, but Dean was always telling him he loved him. Sam just
needed to remember to hear it. Just like now.
"So, we gonna find this guy, so we can get back to the motel and
hunt. Right. The reason they were standing in the middle of the
cemetery. "Yeah," Sam said, reluctantly pulling back. First they take
care of business. Then...
Dean chuckled. "First we dig up a corpse. Then we can have sex."
that's not something you hear too many people say," Sam observed as he
pulled away and started resuming checking out the tombstones. "Ever."
laughed, and he started walking along the row of graves. "I heard
someone else say it, once. But it was a maharta, and it actually meant
sex with the corpse."
"I could've gone all night without knowing that."
just trying to point out I'm not the only one." Dean grinned, as though
not caring that he was comparing himself to a spirit that used
necrophilia to bind its victims. "Hey! Here's our guy."
Sam walked over to join Dean, looking at the tombstone. "Yep, that's
him." He handed one of the shovels to Dean.
looked askance at it, then him. "Dude, China, remember?" He stepped
backwards and gestured for that Sam could have the whole grave to
Sam continued holding the shovel out to his brother.
Frowning, Dean still didn't take the shovel. "It's a lesson you need to
learn, Sammy. Think of this as tough love."
"You just don't want to dig," Sam said.
"No, I want to see if I can make you dig him up by yourself."
"Well, you can't, so grab a shovel."
Dean laughed, as though he'd won, and took a shovel. Before he put the
edge into the ground, he said, "Bet I can."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Do you want to get this over with so we can get
to the sex, or not?"
"I want you to admit I could make you dig this all by yourself."
Sam shook his head slowly. "That's not going to happen."
Dean put his hand on the edge of his jacket and began humming.
"You can't be serious," Sam said disbelievingly, watching his brother
with wide eyes.
"Watch me," Dean said, determinedly. "Better yet, dig." He nodded at
Sam gripped the shovel handle tighter but didn't move. "No."
"Really?" Dean pulled his jacket open, bumping his hip to one side.
Dean could strip to his skin; Sam wasn't going to shovel one shovel
full of dirt. He might jump and fuck him, but he wasn't going to dig.
"Even if you get to fuck me after I strip?" Dean looked around them.
"If you strip, it won't matter if I dig or not," Sam pointed out with
complete confidence. "I'll fuck you."
"Huh." Dean nodded. "Good point." With that, he shoved the blade of the
shovel into the dirt and began digging.
Sam grinned and went to join him, then paused. "Digging to China?
With a shrug, Dean said, "It got boring."
"Should I do something to entertain you?"
"Nah. I'm not a kid anymore. I can handle a few...thousand
shovelfuls of dirt." He kept his head down, focusing on the dirt as he
dug. He almost looked...like he was thinking about something else.
"I could... tell you a story," Sam offered.
"What kind of story?" Dean glanced at him, dubiously.
"A sex story?"
face lit up -- then he frowned again. "How is that gonna help us avoid
having sex before we get this guy salted and burned?"
"Because I have self-control," Sam said smugly.
His brother just raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him.
"And because you're going to be too busy putting all that energy into
digging," Sam continued.
Dean kept looking at him dubiously -- but he turned his attention back
to the grave, and shoveled out another pile of dirt. He glanced up at
Sam. "Is this sex story going to take place in China?"
"Do you want it to?"
shrugged like it didn't matter, and he kept his head down over the
grave. More shovelfuls of dirt piled up beside the grave. Then Dean
said diffidently, "Well, if I'm digging to China, and all...."
Sam chuckled and leaned back on a conveniently placed tombstone. "I
suppose I can manage China."
again, Dean looked for all the world like it didn't matter in the
slightest. But when he glanced up, as though wondering when Sam was
going to begin, Sam could see the look of hopeful expectation hidden
behind his eyes.
"So China," Sam said thoughtfully, already
composing a story in his head. In a conversational tone, he asked, "Do
you know there used to be Warlords in China?"
"Yeah," Dean said,
glancing up again, clearly wondering if this was the opening to his
story or if Sam was already off on a tangent.
"They used to make raids on villages," Sam continued. "Swoop in and
take everything -- and everyone -- of value."
Dean grinned, and bent his head down to keep digging.
Sam paused in his storytelling. "Do you want a sex story with a girl?"
Dean looked at him. He looked thoughtful for a brief moment, then shook
his head. "Guys work." He gave Sam a very shuttered smile. "You know.
Tall brainiac meets handsome ditchdigger...."
"Who's completely delusional?" Sam finished. "I think I can do better
He saw a frown cross Dean's face. "What am I delusional about now?" The
next shovelful of dirt landed very near Sam's shoes.
"Where would I start? Do you want me to pick apart what you're saying
or do you want me to tell you a dirty story?"
gave him a glare, but then visibly snapped his jaw shut and lowered his
head back down to dig. Sam waited a moment to make sure that Dean was
going to continue working then finally started talking again. "So once
there was this powerful Warlord who was sweeping across the countryside
attacking villages as he went."
There was a short glance, but Dean kept quiet and kept digging.
"The Warlord had a son. He was very handsome and brave and one of the
most skilled fighters among his father's people."
There was another glance; Dean was clearly wondering if he knew which
of them was the Warlord's son.
hid a smile as he continued, watching carefully for his brother's
reaction. "But no matter how skilled or popular he was, Dong was
Dean froze, shovel's spade half raised with dirt. Sam knew what was
coming right before the pile of dirt cascaded over his feet.
"You're the one who wanted a story set in China," Sam reminded him.
just scowled harder, then he put the shovel down and took off his outer
shirt. When he picked up the shovel again, his t-shirt showed every
muscle quite clearly. Which left Sam staring with his mouth open,
forgetting what he'd about to say.
His brother had time to dig up two more shovelfuls of dirt before he
paused and looked over. "Sammy?"
shook himself. Story, right. "So Dong was unhappy and he didn't know
why. Until the day they attacked this one village." He got another
scowl at the use of Dong's name, but Dean just kept digging. Sam hid
his smile at the scowl and kept going. "They rounded up all the
villagers as they usually did and that's when Dong's life changed."
seemed to be reflex, now - Sam said Dong's name, and Dean scowled at
him. But he was still digging, and still listening quietly.
was this one villager... a young man named Song. He wasn't cowering
like the others. He stood straight and tall and met his captors' eyes.
And when he did so, it was the Warlord's men who looked away first.
"Song?" Dean interrupted, scoffing. "Why the hell do you get to
Sam grinned. "Because it's my story."
scowl was harder and much more enthusiastic this time. Dean shoveled
some more, dumping two shovelfuls of dirt on Sam's shoes.
"Dude, you're trying to dig him up, not bury me," Sam pointed out,
rolling his eyes.
"Oops?" Dean gave him a smile. The next shovelful hit the ground next
to Sam's feet.
Sam raised an eyebrow. "And that would mean...?"
Dean gave him a guileless look. "It means you're a smart, sexy person."
"Don't make me go look it up," Sam warned, crossing his arms over his
with the shovel stuck into the dirt, Dean looked around them, clearly
wondering where Sam could find a English-Korean dictionary in the
middle of a cemetery.
"When we get back to the motel," Sam clarified. "I have a good memory.
But it would put off any sex."
about two minutes," Dean replied. He was still digging, the hole
growing noticeably lower. Dean stopped again, this time removing his
Sam looked away before he could start staring. "It would be longer
depending on what I found out it meant."
you say so." Dean dug for a moment, then Sam heard him curse softly
under his breath. Sam looked back and saw Dean standing there,
shirtless, staring at his forefinger. As Sam watched, he brought his
finger to his mouth and sucked on the tip.
"Wha-" His voice cracked, so he cleared his throat and tried again.
"What are you doing?"
"Think I got a splinter," Dean mumbled as he slid his finger into his
Sam was caught between calling bullshit and being concerned. "Do you
want me to look at it?" he finally asked.
brother gave him a heavy-lidded look, gazing upwards at him as he
slowly slid his finger out of his mouth. Wordlessly, he held his hand
out to Sam. The expression on his face was a mixture of daring and
blatant seduction. Equally slowly, Sam reached out and took his
brother's hand, leaning over to get a better look at his finger.
There was absolutely no sign of any splinter. Not even a red spot on
his brother's callused hands.
Sam looked up at Dean from under his bangs. "Splinter?"
"I feel something."
Sam snorted. "Somehow I don't think it's in your finger that you're
raised an eyebrow at him. Then he turned his hand, taking Sam's in his,
and pulled it towards his mouth. As Sam watched, Dean pulled Sam's
finger into his mouth and sucked, lightly. Then he let it slip free and
asked, "You don't think it was in my finger?"
"I..." Sam began, then swallowed, finding it hard to concentrate when
Dean was doing... that.
Then Dean dropped Sam's hand and stepped back, and picked up the
shovel. "Think that got it," he said, and began digging again.
stared at him. He really should be used to Dean pulling this kind of
thing by now, but it still surprised him every time. Dean dug a few
more shovelfuls, dumping the dirt in the pile safely on the other side
of the grave from Sam's feet. Then Dean paused and looked at him.
Hello?" He waggled the shovel handle at Sam, though whether it meant
'grab the other one' or 'get on with the story', Sam couldn't tell.
"I really hate you sometimes."
brother's wide, smug grin told him that Dean had just scored himself
the winner. Sam told himself he'd get back at him when they got back to
"You need me to kick-start you?" his brother asked, and Sam knew he
meant it literally.
"Just dig," Sam told him.
Dean pointed at the hole he was standing in, saying very clearly that
he had been digging, was still digging, and it wasn't him that
was falling down on the job.
Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. "Where was I?"
"You were getting off on calling me Dong."
"Hey, if the name fits..."
Dean scowled and suddenly tossed his shovel at Sam. "Dig."
Sam chuckled and picked up the shovel. "If you don't like my story, you
liked your story, you just stopped telling it." Dean bent down and
grabbed the second shovel, moving to the far end of the grave. "Fine,
you want me to tell you a story?" He sighed and resumed digging. Then,
"Once there was a rabbit named Mister Winston."
Sam laughed out loud. "I don't think the story you used to read to me
every night to get me to go to sleep counts, Dean."
"I was gonna make it a sex story," his brother said, innocently.
"That," Sam said, digging the shovel into the dirt over the grave,
"might possibly turn me off sex for the next year. At least."
eighteen," Dean said. "At most it'll turn you off sex for half an hour.
And then only if I put my shirt back on." Dean continued digging at his
end of the grave, looking and sounding all-business once more. Sam
could see the outline of Dean's erection, though, pressing against his
He did his best to ignore that. "Just... don't pervert my
childhood memories, okay?" Sam said. "I don't want to think of Mister
Winston and sex at the same time."
Dean gave him a sad look. "Sam, you know Mister Winston had kids.
They're in the story."
Sam dug a little harder. "Adoption."
was a pause, then Dean's delighted laughter rang out, loud enough to
wake the dead. He slammed the shovel into the dirt and leaned on it,
laughing. Sam watched him, part of him eye rolling at how funny Dean
apparently found that perfectly logical explanation, while the rest of
him just revelled in a Dean so happy as to be able to laugh like that.
Dean reached up and wiped his eyes. "Okay, Sammy. Adoption. Mister
Winston never had sex." He grinned at Sam, still chuckling as he went
back to digging.
Sam continued watching him for a moment before
going back to digging himself. "See? My story would have been better
than rabbit sex -- which never happened."
"At least I told you my story," Dean said. "About a billion times until
I finally got you reading Hardy Boys."
"Yeah," Sam granted, remembering the feeling of warmsafedrowsyDean,
of being small and tucked into bed with his big brother reading to him.
He smiled at the memory. "You did."
shot him a mildly confused but happy look, apparently catching Sam's
tone and figuring out a moment later the apparent cause of it. "God,
you refused to go to sleep for two years unless I told you that story."
His accusation held no heat, only affection.
"You had a very soothing voice," Sam said.
I thought it was the riveting tale of Mister Winston," Dean teased, but
his eyes were still alight with warmth. He paused, mouth open, and
"What is it?" Sam prodded when he didn't continue.
wondering if I'd ever told you... Mom used to read it to me." He was
still smiling, still happy; the usual pain or closed neutrality that
his brother showed when speaking of their mom was, for once, absent.
smiled softly. "No, you didn't," he said, feeling warmth spread through
him. He may not have any memories of his mother, but it felt like Dean
had just given him a piece of her. Or, really, been giving him pieces
all along. "Thanks." It seemed an inadequate word for what he was
trying to express.
"Well, it's a compelling story," Dean said,
not really disparagingly. Then he looked guilty. "Though I usually made
her skip over the part where he got lost for two pages."
had done the same for him, Sam remembered. "I think I was eight before
I realised there was even a part where he got lost," Sam chuckled.
didn't want you worrying about him," Dean said. "Lost, away from his
wife and adopted kids -- he was scared and there wasn't anything I
could do for him." Dean frowned, still digging into the murdered cab
"I never got lost," Sam remembered. Most kids
did at one point or another, he knew, if only for a few minutes. But he
hadn't. Dean had always been there when he turned around and looked for
"I learned from Mister Winston," Dean said. "Never gave you
the chance." His words were light -- but Sam knew they weren't really
talking about the book anymore.
"Still don't," Sam murmured, smiling at him fondly.
"The last time I let you out of my sight, you bought dishes with purple
and yellow polka dots on them."
"They were on sale," Sam protested.
"Are you at all
gay, or is this," he gestured from Sam to himself and back. "Just a
Dean-thing? Because I am seriously beginning to doubt your ability to
know what's hideously ugly and what isn't."
Sam actually gave the question some thought. "I don't really know.
You're all I want, if that means anything."
doesn't tell me you have the ability to decorate," Dean said, for once
not reacting visibly to Sam's declaration of love. "I went back and
found the yellow striped ones sitting right next to the polka dot ones,
and they were the exact same price." He paused, shovel in the dirt, and
looked at Sam curiously. "Maybe you really are mostly straight."
shrugged. It really didn't matter to him what he was beyond in love
with Dean. That one point made the rest kind of moot. "Maybe I just
like polka dots."
"Isn't that what I said?" Dean dug up half a shovelful of dirt, and
dumped it on Sam's side of the hole they were in.
"We won't actually get this hole dug, if you keep dumping the dirt back
in it," Sam pointed out.
Dean just chuckled.
managed to dig uninterrupted for a while, with Dean actually dumping
dirt outside the grave and Sam actually not staring at Dean, who still
wasn't wearing his shirt. Sam caught Dean, once, frowning at the shovel
and saying something under his breath about pagodas and fresh egg rolls.
Sam had chuckled under his breath and made plans to actually finish
telling Dean his story -- maybe over Chinese food.
they had to take turns, the hole deep enough it wasn't possible to dig
without ramming the shovel into the other person. Dean was taking his
turn, deep in the ground and grunting nearly silently with every
shovelful, when his shovel hit something solid.
"Thank god," Dean said. "I was beginning to think I really would hit
are really getting fixated on this China thing," Sam observed, getting
to his feet from where he'd been lounging by the side of the hole.
looked up at him, frowning in what was almost a pout. "It's not my
fault. I was a little obsessed with Bruce Lee, and...I was ten, and
helping Dad dig up a grave. He told me to pretend I was digging to
Sam thought about that for a few moments. "You know, we
really didn't have a normal childhood," he observed. Not that that was
news, but sometimes it hit him all over again.
There was a long,
silent pause as Dean stopped, completely, and stared at him. His mouth
was open in surprise. Very slowly, he said, "Sam?" His tone very
clearly said he was going to make no sudden moves that might startle
the insane person. "I hate to say this -- but we didn't have a
Sam rolled his eyes but couldn't help grinning. "Idiot."
do you remember when you were eleven and I told you about the Easter
Bunny?" Dean was still frowning in that earnest way, like he was
actually having a serious conversation.
"You told me that he was
real, but was a monster that dipped children in boiling chocolate," Sam
said with a snort at the memory.
"And when did you figure out I was lying?"
"You want to break open the coffin and I'll pour the salt?" Sam said,
avoiding the question.
delighted grin appeared on his brother's face. "Sammy? When did you
figure out I was lying?" He bent over to break open the coffin, though.
The wood broke with a loud crack, and Dean reached down to pull the lid
Sam wrinkled his nose at the odour drifted up from the open
coffin. "The next Easter, when I asked Dad when he was going to hunt it
down," he admitted grudgingly.
For the second time that night, the graveyard rung with the sound of
Dean calmed down enough to speak, he pulled himself out of the grave.
"Me being mean to you -- it's what big brothers do. It's normal." He
smiled and shrugged.
Sam just stared at Dean for a long moment. "I don't know how you do
"Do what?" Dean looked honestly confused.
something that I should be rightfully pissed off at you about and turn
it into something that makes me want to kiss you instead."
"If you'd salt this sucker already, I could toast him and then we could
do that," Dean said, sounding frustrated.
smiled and did so, taking his brother's avoidance of the compliment in
stride. He still knew Dean had heard him; that was enough. He watched
as Dean poured the lighter fluid over the grave, then he set the can
down, wiping his hands on his jeans. Dean stared down at the coffin as
he took out a book of matches; for a moment he simply stood, doing
Then he took out a match, lit it, and let it drop. His brother smiled
as the flames shot into the air.
"You're such a pyro," Sam observed affectionately.
The smile widened into a grin. "Burn, baby, burn," he sang as the
flicker of light reflected in his eyes.
Sam shook his head, smiling. "Dork."
"Rob Zombie," Dean said, looking at him in shock. "How can Rob
Zombie make me a dork?"
"If you could see yourself in the mirror, you wouldn't be asking that."
actually looked down at himself. His jeans were covered in dirt and
grime, the bare skin of his torso was coated in sweat and smears of
dirt. All lit by the fire he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off for
more than a moment. "What?"
"It's your eyes," Sam explained. "And possibly the shit eating grin."
The look Dean gave him was genuinely confused -- for a moment, then he
glanced back at the fire and smiled.
"Yeah," Sam pointed out. "That look there."
"You don't like burning evil sons of bitches?"
"Not as much as you do," Sam said honestly. "I don't think even Dad
likes it as much as you do."
frowned almost too briefly for Sam to see. "Dad hates burning things.
Reminds him--" Dean stared down at the fire, solemn. "Luckily for me, I
love this part."
Sam slid an arm around Dean's waist as they
watched. "I know you do," he said softly, his teasing falling away at
the change in Dean's mood.
His brother didn't reply, just leaned
into Sam. He stared at the flames as they grew -- they'd have to leave
soon, before the cops and the fire department arrived. But Dean didn't
seem ready to leave.
At least not until he grinned at Sam. "We should really remember to
Sam didn't try to hide what he felt about that suggestion. "Dude," he
said, wrinkling his nose, "that's just gross."
wrong with toasted marshmallows?" Dean glanced around, then moved away,
crouching down to pick up one of the shovels and gather up his clothes.
Even then, his eyes kept sliding back towards the flames.
"Nothing," Sam replied, helping to gather up their things. "But not
cooked over a burning corpse."
"You've eaten worse."
Sam thought about it. "No, I don't think I have."
straightened up and looked at him, the shit-eating grin back in full
force. "You have." This coming from his older brother who, more often
than not, had been the one to prepare Sam's meals when they were
"Unless it was cooked over the flames of a burning rotting body, no, I
"You've had chitlings," Dean said. "And you ate about half a dozen
grubs. And tripe, once, but I think you threw that up."
"Burning corpse," Sam emphasised.
"Sam, do you know what chitlins are?
A burning corpse is clean, at least." He paused and looked down into
the grave. "You know, once all the flesh has decomposed. Maybe not a
Sam chuckled. "Not really helping your argument, Dean."
if we're just burning bones and wood, it's just like a campfire." Dean
slung the shovel over his shoulder, and with a last look back, began
walking towards the parking lot. "But if you don't want any, more for
"You're not bringing marshmallows to a graveyard," Sam told him firmly
as he followed.
"I'll tell Dad."
Dean stopped. He turned towards Sam, clearly fighting back laughter.
"Tell Dad? What are you, five?"
Sam snorted. "Like you don't still listen to everything Dad says."
Dean looked like he'd been slapped. "Fuck you." His brother began
walking again, striding quickly towards the car.
Sam half jogged to catch up with Dean. "That wasn't an insult," he said
quietly when he did. Dean's only response was to walk faster. Sam
reached out and grabbed his brother's arm. "Dean--"
Shaking him off hard, the shovel fell to the ground and Dean whirled on
him. "I said fuck off."
"What the fuck is your problem?" Sam asked, his own temper fraying.
"Are you kidding
me?" Dean stopped, eyes wide with anger and disbelief and something
else. Pain? It was gone before Sam could identify it. "How many fucking
years have I listened to you berate me for doing what Dad tells us--"
Sam said, staring at his brother in shock as sudden understanding came
to him. "Dean," he said softly, "I wasn't berating you."
"Really," Sam said, catching and holding Dean's eyes. "I know I used to
before, but that's because I didn't know why. I do now."
Dean's anger faded as he realised what Sam meant. "You said.. you saw
it. In your vision." His voice cracked, and Sam could see, in the
shadows on his brother's face, the nine year old boy he'd been.
merged with the flash vision memories in his mind, of another time and
place, and Dean haltingly confessing how he'd almost got a five year
old Sam killed. "I did. I know, Dean. I do."
Dean gave a sort of
half-shrug, and he looked away. "I didn't--" Sam could see the pain and
fear, still there, and he knew that it had been there all along. All
the times Dean had instantly obeyed their dad, refused to let Sam sway
him, it had been this, driving him. "I'm sorry," Dean said in a small
Wanting nothing more than to soothe that pain and fear
away, Sam leaned in and kissed him. "I'm the one who owes you an
"I'm sorry I made you eat grub worms," Dean said, quietly.
Sam chuckled. "That's okay," he said. "Part of your job of being
annoying big brother."
Dean stepped in and wrapped his arms around Sam's waist. "And I'm sorry
about the spider on your cupcake."
"That was you?"
He felt Dean tense. "Um. No. Er, who did you think it was?"
"The spider," Sam said wryly.
"Oh! Yeah, totally was," Dean said breezily, in a normal tone. He
leaned back and smiled, hesitantly.
Sam couldn't keep from smiling even as he shook his head in
took the last one," Dean said. "There were three, and you wouldn't let
me cut it in half to share." Dean gave him a cute look.
Sam kissed him. "You're still a jerk."
"But I'm your jerk," Dean replied, and there was only the slightest
hitch in his voice when he said it.
"Always," Sam said fiercely, punctuating the vow with another kiss.
was smiling when he broke the kiss -- practically beaming. "Come on, we
don't wanna get arrested when the fire department shows up." He gave
Sam's shirt a tug.
"Right." Sam allowed himself to be dragged
back towards the car. "I'm still going to tell Dad if you start
bringing marshmallows to the graveyards."
Dean shot him a dirty look. "I wouldn't make you eat any. Hell, I won't
reached the car, and Dean went around to the trunk. After he'd got the
shovels stowed away, he put on his t-shirt, then the outer shirt and
ran a hand through his hair. "Marshmallows, Sammy," he said with a note
of finality. "Oo, or hot dogs!"
The next day they went back to the bar to tell Al the problem
taken care of. They found Jorge, Dad's contact who originally referred
the case to them, there visiting with Al. They'd ended up sitting and
trading hunting stories over beers -- Al not even bothering to ask Sam
for ID. A few hours of that and Sam needed to make a short trip to get
rid of the beer he'd consumed. When he came back, he found Dean and
Jorge with their heads together seeming to be discussing something
He heard Dean ask, "You don't think it's a little late?"
Jorge shook his head. "It's never too late."
replying, Dean looked up and saw Sam approaching, a startled and
thoughtful look on his face. "I'll think about it," he said, casually,
as though they'd been discussing nothing important.
"What did I miss?" Sam said, taking his seat next to Dean again and
looking inquiringly at his brother.
just shooting the shit," Dean said quickly. Jorge gave him a measuring
look, but said nothing, just took another drink of his beer.
was pretty sure it wasn't nothing, but wasn't going to push Dean on it
here. He'd wait until later and then push him on it. Dean always caved
faster in private.
For his part, Dean seemed relieved when Sam
let it drop. His brother looked at Jorge and said, "So you can tell him
we saw the girls at the Que Sera." He gave Sam a wink.
rolled his eyes, picking up his role. "Dean couldn't wait to go.
Practically left skid marks in the parking lot getting there."
I was just trying to expand my little brother's horizons." He gave Sam
a grin which said he was thinking about just how he'd managed to do so.
"Yes, education, so important," Jorge said, still laughing -- and Dean
shot him a quelling look, which Jorge seemed to ignore.
Sam made note of the look, though he didn't know its reason. Just
another thing to ask Dean about later.
well, with the ghost taken care of, and nothing else pressing, I
figured we'd go back tonight." Dean gave Jorge a wink. "Sammy wants
another lap dance."
Sam, having just raised his beer to his mouth, choked at his brother's
gave him a wink that, weirdly enough, seemed almost fatherly. "Ah, a
beautiful woman, dancing for you. There is nothing quite like it." He
took a drink of his own beer, then said, "If Maria wasn't likely to
tear off my cajones, I'd go with you."
"We'll send you a souvenir," Dean offered.
That almost sent Sam into another choking fit.
His brother gave him a concerned look. "Sam, are you sure you're old
enough to be drinking that?"
"Not with you around, apparently," Sam said wryly, getting his coughing
back under control.
Dean sighed, and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Come on. We better go,
so we can get you tucked into bed at a decent hour."
Sam nodded, finishing his beer quickly. "Nice to see you again, Jorge,"
he said, standing with Dean.
boys have fun," Jorge called after them. When Dean pulled out his
wallet, Jorge waved him off. "Nah, it's on me. Consider it your payment
for the job."
"Thanks, Jorge. When you talk to dad tell him not
to call until after noon." He gave Jorge a knowing grin. Jorge just
laughed again, and waved at them to go, already.
until they were actually back in the car and pulling out of the parking
lot before he asked, "So what were you and Jorge talking about?"
was a pause, then Dean asked, "You wanna go to Que Sera?" From his tone
it was clear that Dean didn't, nor did he expect Sam to say yes.
"You think we'd make it any further than we did the last time we tried
to go?" Sam asked.
At that, Dean gave him a grin. "We made it all the way, last time." He
waggled his eyebrows.
to the strip club," Sam said, though he couldn't help but smile. "I say
we skip the drive to the club and go back to the motel and just go for
all the way right off the bat."
"Should I make a 'bat' joke, or just turn the radio on?"
should tell me what you were talking with Jorge about," Sam said,
glancing at Dean. Calm persistence Sam had found was the best way to
actually get Dean to talk to him.
Dean sighed, and for a moment
Sam knew it could go either way. Spill, or deflect. "Can it wait 'til
we get back to the motel?" Dean finally asked.
Sam hesitated. "Before sex?"
a laugh, Dean said, "Yes, Sam. I promise. Before sex." He leaned back
in the driver's seat, ostensibly focusing his attention on the road. He
glanced over. "Or after."
"Before," Sam said firmly. He knew
full well that if it waited until after there wouldn't be a
conversation until at least tomorrow.
"OK, OK. Before." Dean
sighed again. Then he rested his hand on his thigh. Fingers just inches
away -- and Sam remembered their first drive in the Impala, and the
handjob Dean had given himself.
Sam let his mind wander through
those very pleasant memories for a few moments before firmly pulling it
back. "No fair trying to distract me."
"You're trying to distract me so I'll forget you're supposed to talk
and just jump you."
"I'm driving," Dean retorted, and his hand very definitely did
not move away from his crotch. But he looked over at Sam and sighed.
"Is whatever it is that bad?" Sam asked in a softer tone.
"No, I just...haven't thought about it yet. It might just be something
stupid." He shrugged.
"Somehow," Sam said slowly, studying his brother's face, "I doubt it is
Dean said, suddenly acting like he'd already dismissed it. "It's
nothing. Jorge thought I might.. do something, while you're in school.
But I think I won't." He stared straight ahead, and Sam could see his
Sam knew that look all too well. It was Dean's
talking himself out of something he wanted look. Sam was doing his best
to banish it completely, but he was beginning to think that that just
wasn't possible. All he could do was deal with it each time it made an
appearance. "What did Jorge think you might do?" Sam asked gently,
reaching over and taking Dean's hand in his own.
"He was talking bullshit," Dean replied. "I don't need -- if I need a
fucking diploma I can forge one."
That was enough for Sam to piece together what the topic must've been.
"You talked about going back to school?"
getting a G.E.D." Dean shrugged. "Either way, it isn't like I'm gonna
be applying for jobs or college or anything. What do I need it for?"
could," Sam said. "If you wanted to, you could apply to college." He
looked at Dean, letting all his belief in his brother show on his face,
in his voice. "You can do anything you wanted to, Dean."
gave him a look. "I don't need to go to college. One scholar in the
family's enough." Sam could see how tightly he was gripping the
steering wheel -- as he watched, Dean loosened his grip, no doubt
trying to act cool when he was clearly feeling anything but.
"Of course you don't need to," Sam agreed easily. "It's not
about need, it's about want. What do you want to do?"
took a long time for Dean to respond, and at first Sam wasn't sure his
brother would admit to anything at all. But then, quietly and a little
desperately, Dean said, "I just wanna finish. I--" He stopped, and Sam
just waited. Dean's voice wavered when he finally said, "You're going
to Stanford and I don't even have a fucking high school
swallowed, aching for Dean and the emotion he heard in his brother's
voice. "I'm only going to Stanford because of you," he said softly. "If
you want to finish your diploma, then it's not a stupid idea to do it.
If that's what you want to do, I'll help you however I can."
"I did not
get you into Stanford," Dean said derisively. "You and your eggheaded
brain did that." He shook his head. "Sam, I saw your S.A.T scores. I
had nothing to do with that." He paused, then said, "I know I'm not as
smart as you. But I want--"
"Bullshit," Sam said, not willing to
let that go. "You're just as smart as I am -- maybe more in some
things. And I got the S.A.T scores I did because I studied my butt off
-- which I was only able to do because you made sure I could."
was important to you," Dean said simply, off-handedly dismissing the
things he'd done to give Sam the time and space to study. But then he
glanced at Sam and gave him a small smile. "You know I've never been
good at not giving you what you wanted."
"That runs both ways now," Sam told him. "I want to give you what you
"I don't need anything," Dean said, and the words felt rote.
Like maybe Dean had been saying them for so long he didn't even think
past them anymore.
"Forget about whether you think you should need something," Sam told
him firmly. "This isn't about need. What do you want, Dean?"
Dean didn't answer right away. He pulled the car into its parking spot
at the motel, and killed the engine. His brother sat there, staring
ahead, for a long time. Then he suddenly turned towards Sam, nearly
diving across the benchseat and into Sam's arms. "I don't want to be a
fucking dropout," he said, voice muffled against Sam's chest.
wrapped his arms around his brother tightly. "Then we'll look into what
you need to do to get your diploma when we get back," he said fiercely,
emotion making his voice husky.
Neither of them moved for a long
moment, then Dean sniffed, quietly, and shoved himself away. He wiped
at his face and said, "God, I really am turning into the girl." He
yanked the door handle and got out of the car. Sam could hear him
taking a couple of deep breaths, regaining his composure.
took his time getting out of the car, giving his brother the space he
wanted. Just like he was going to do everything in his power to give
Dean everything else he wanted as well. First it was giving himself to
Dean, which had been as easy as breathing. The diploma might be a
little harder, but Sam had no doubt that they'd make sure Dean got that
When Dean turned to him and smiled, it was the thin, easy
smile he gave to strangers. Charming, and brimming with what those
strangers always saw as full of life.
He wanted to touch Dean,
break through that smile and get to the real one underneath, the one
that he knew only he saw, but he couldn't, not out in the parking lot.
"Come on," Sam said and went and unlocked the motel door quickly.
"Hey, we could order a pizza," Dean suggested, following Sam into the
Sam looked back over his shoulder at him. "Is that what you want?"
He saw Dean's smile and his step falter. "Whatever, Sam. I just thought
you might be hungry."
stood and studied him for a long minute, trying to figure out what he
should say to make his brother happy and finally settled on the truth.
"I am hungry. For you." He stepped closer, opening his arm to wrap
"Good thing for you I'm on the menu. Cheap, too." Dean grinned. "And I
come with fries."
could see behind the mask he was still hanging onto and the rapid
patter of jokes. A flicker of need that Dean was still fighting, even
here in the privacy of their room.
"Lucky me," Sam said, meaning
it, wrapping his arms around his brother tightly and nuzzling his neck.
Breathing in the scent that had always been the only one that ever
meant home to him.
He felt more than heard the soft moan, then
Dean was turning his head and kissing him, hard and desperate. Sam let
him, tasting the alcohol Dean had consumed as their tongues slid
together. Part of him wanted to ask Dean what he wanted, needed, again,
but he was sure that part of the answer would be not to have to talk
about what he wanted, so Sam bit his tongue. Bit Dean's while he was at
There were other ways Dean and he communicated that
didn't involve words at all. Right now it was pretty clear that one
thing Dean wanted -- possibly needed -- was to have Sam, to touch him,
be touched by him. Mouth, hands -- Dean's were working their way under
Sam's shirts, not gently, not caressing but gripping and holding,
roughly. Sam kissed Dean hard then leaned back briefly to pull his
shirt over his head and drop it to the floor before wrapping himself
around Dean again.
Dean was on him almost as soon as Sam touched
him. Kissing him like they had little time left -- or like there was
something to hide from, and the only way to escape was through Sam.
Neither were options that Sam liked to think about Dean feeling, and he
mentally renewed his vow to himself to give Dean all he wanted and make
him believe that it wasn't all going to be taken away. But in the
meantime he'd give Dean what he needed. Always.
brother's voice was low and breathless, then Dean was kissing his neck,
sucking on the spot that always made Sam weak at the knees.
"I'm here," Sam said, breath catching and hands clutching at Dean's
shoulders at the stimulation.
he repeated, and Dean was moving against him, hands still gripping his
sides hard. He pushed his hips into Sam, rubbing against him. Sam could
feel his hardening erection through the denim of their jeans.
Sam murmured back, catching his brother's lips in another hard kiss.
When it broke, they were both panting hard. "Do you want to fuck me?"
nodded, fast, and tugged Sam towards him -- though there was
practically no space between them to begin with. He felt Dean take a
step backwards, towards the bed, and stop again for another kiss. Dean
was moaning in the back of his throat, harsh needy sounds as he
clutched at Sam.
Sam got them moving again, over to the bed.
Another searing kiss that had him moaning as much as Dean was, then Sam
pushed him away. "Clothes off now," he said, suiting actions to words.
took barely a moment for Dean to rip his shirt off, kick off his shoes
and unzip his jeans. All the while he didn't take his eyes off Sam. It
wasn't graceful, or arousing -- a stark contrast to the moves he'd made
the night before. It was, though, just as hot, if not more so, and the
second Dean was naked Sam wrapped himself around him again and tipped
them down onto the bed.
Dean's arms and legs were tangled with
his; almost like Dean was barely aware that they'd fallen over and were
lying down. He attacked Sam's mouth again, kissing him fiercely and
pushing his knee between Sam's legs.
Sam groaned and arched against him, starting to feel a little needy
himself. "Want you," he murmured against Dean's mouth.
me," Dean said. He rolled them over until Sam was on his back and Dean
on top. He pushed again with his knee against Sam's thigh, to spread
his legs. Sam instantly complied, heart beating faster as he stared up
at his brother.
Dean caught his eye and smiled. It was nothing
like the one outside -- this was pure Dean. Somewhat mischievous, but
mostly full of desire. It was a smile Sam couldn't resist returning,
both because of what it promised him and because this was Dean happy
and without the masks. "Dean," he said softly, putting all his feelings
into that one word.
"Yeah?" Dean's smile widened for a second
into a smug grin -- as though all his blood wasn't somewhere south of
his brain and he was somehow capable of talking like he didn't need to
fuck Sam right then. But from the way his hips were moving,
rubbing his cock alongside Sam's own hard length, Sam was pretty sure
that any coherency on Dean's part was mostly faked.
pretty sure how to shatter that coherency. He gave his own version of
Dean's cocky mischievous grin and said, "What are you waiting for? Fuck
The smug grin vanished and Dean groaned, diving down to
kiss Sam, mouth open and crushing his lips against Sam's mouth and
pressing his tongue inside. One hand found it's way underneath the
small of his back, pulling Sam up.
Dean tore his mouth away. "Need.. fuck, Sam. Need...." He looked
took Sam a second to get his own brain working enough to remember
where... "Bedside table," he said, trying to reach for it, but couldn't
from the angle he was at.
Dean muttered something under his
breath as he lunged across Sam and grabbed for it. Sam took the
opportunity to lean up and lick a long trail across Dean's skin.
"Oh god." Dean shivered, and didn't move. Still outstretched, hand
around the lube he'd grabbed, half-off Sam and half still on.
Curling his hands around Dean's sides to hold him steady, Sam did it
noise that came from his brother's throat was a strangled whimper, like
pain was shooting into his skull. It trailed off into a breathy moan
and Dean rubbed his whole body against Sam, writhing -- almost
undulating against him. Sam loved knowing he could do this to his
brother, to make him forget everything but what he was feeling. He
smiled and shifted to be able to reach more of Dean's skin.
slid around, offering him access to anything Sam wanted. And Sam wanted
it all. Wanted to taste every inch of Dean's skin, to consume him head
to toe, heart and soul.
It seemed that Dean was willing to let
him; he rolled off Sam and onto the bed, arms out-spread. The lube in
his hand was apparently forgotten as he arched into Sam's touch. Sam
made the most of it, taking his time and indulging himself, wondering
how long Dean would let him lick and stroke before he broke and took
From the way Dean was groaning, his muscles
trembling, it seemed like he might be willing to lie there for as long
as Sam wanted to keep going. Certainly his cock was fully hard, pressed
against his hip. His brother's breaths started coming in short, quick
pants, and when Dean rolled his head to look at him his eyes were wide,
pupils dilated with arousal.
Sam paused in what he was doing and
just stared. His brother was so beautiful like this that it took his
breath away. Dean stared back at him, and Sam could see when the
arousal began to dim enough that Dean could refocus. The corner of his
mouth quirked up and he asked, "You meant it, huh?"
"Meant what?" Sam asked softly.
"Hungry for me." Dean grinned. "You gonna eat me whole?"
Sam's mouth quirked up. "Do you want me to?"
Sam, is this a trick question?" Dean's eyes went wide again like his
higher brain functions clicked completely off from the mere idea.
trick. Just a simple yes or no." He got more serious, resting his head
on folded hands propped on Dean's hip. "Tell me what you want, Dean."
do it I won't be able to fuck you." He paused, then said with a smirk,
"For a few minutes at least." Then Dean lifted his head and kissed him.
When he moved, he lowered his head a little, pressing his cheek against
Sam's jaw. "I want...." He took a deep breath. "God, I just want to
feel you touching me. Ho--" Dean cut himself off with a sharp
Sam heard the words anyway: Holding me. He smiled and pressed
himself closer, and wrapped himself around Dean. "I can do that," he
murmured, kissing him again.
brother melted into him, pressing against every part of Sam's body
where they touched. It meant he didn't lie still -- rubbing against
Sam's torso, then back against his hands, legs sliding along Sam's own.
Slow, sensual, and if he hadn't been aroused before he surely would
have become so, now. He seemed totally focused on Sam, but Sam knew
Dean was soaking up the contact from him.
Contact that Sam was
more than happy to give. He would've been happy to stay like this
forever -- he didn't even need to come, just stay in this close contact
with Dean, this slow burning arousal firing along his nerves and in his
The slow way Dean kissed him again, the way his fingers
started to trail up Sam's back, made it feel like Dean was happy to do
so as well. The hungry desperation was fading from his touch, no longer
trying to claim -- but soaking Sam up, absorbing him. Dean shifted
again, pressing his face against Sam's neck, tasting with just the tip
of his tongue. He could hear the slightest intake of breath and
realised his brother was inhaling his scent.
That thought made Sam shiver with arousal, a soft moan rumbling up from
hand slipped between their bodies and his fingers brushed against Sam's
cock. Dean pressed his mouth to Sam's neck, then sucked hard as he
wrapped his hand around Sam's erection and pulled.
Sam gasped, bucking into Dean's grip, his simmering arousal beginning
to rise to a boil. "Dean," he gasped.
Dean's voice was nearly a whisper, nothing like how he'd teased Sam
earlier. His hand kept moving, pulling Sam's cock as he lowered his
mouth to lick a slow path up the line of Sam's jugular.
Oh god. Sam arched his head back, giving Dean better access. "More."
felt Dean's chuckle, breath hot against his skin. But Dean moved his
hand a little faster, tightened his grip a bit more. And he continued
licking Sam's neck -- nibbling here and there, pressing his lips as
though he was going to suck hard and never quite doing so.
was Sam's turn to writhe and undulate under his brother's attention,
small sounds not under his control coming from his throat. He
whimpered, needing more, needing... "Fuck me."
Dean brought his other hand in, the click of the cap opening seemed
unnaturally loud. Soon enough Dean was pressing a slicked finger into
Sam at the same time he bit down on Sam's neck.
Sam groaned loudly, his grip on Dean tightening. "Yes. More."
was a dizzying moment, as Dean flipped them over again. Sam fell onto
his back and Dean was between his legs, already lifting them up and
scooting forward. How the hell he'd managed that...
was sliding his finger back inside Sam and slicking up his own cock
with his other hand. Sam arched up, wanting more than a finger, wanting
Dean in him right now. Dean didn't seem in nearly enough of a hurry; he
worked his finger in and out, added a second finger while still pulling
on his own cock.
This was the part Sam hated -- and loved. Dean
never moved fast when he was preparing him, always drawing it out until
Sam was practically out of his mind, whimpering and shaking and
babbling nonsense in his need.
There was a small smile on Dean's
face as he continued moving his fingers, like he knew what was going
through Sam's head. It wouldn't have surprised Sam in the slightest to
learn that his brother enjoyed tormenting him this way. But then Dean
added a third finger, and Sam knew he was close.
his fingers just right and Sam cried out, his eyes practically rolling
back in his head. He didn't know what to call the sounds falling
uncontrolled from his own lips now aside from desperate and needy. His
hips moved as much as they could in this position, a mute plea for more.
Dean's fingers were gone. Hands gripped his thighs pulling his legs
even further up, and Dean tucked his shoulders under Sam's knees. "God,
you look so fucking ready for me," Dean said, then there was no other
warning before Dean slid his cock inside him.
Sam caught his
breath as Dean entered him and not just from the physical sensations,
although those were intense enough all on their own. But every time
Dean pushed inside him, Sam was overwhelmed with this feeling of right,
that this was the most right thing he'd ever done, that the only thing
better would have been if he could have had Dean inside him all the
time, be this connected all the time.
"Yeah, Sammy," he heard
Dean whisper, as his brother pushed slowly further in. He was grinning,
the desire and happiness practically shining in his eyes. He pulled out
halfway and pushed back in, still slow and gentle. "Love you."
never surprised Sam that Dean could say those words when they were
joined like this. It was just another part of the rightness. He gasped
as Dean pushed back in, arching into it. "Love you too," he said
breathlessly, holding Dean's eyes.
He saw his brother's
expression shake, but he didn't slow his movements. Dean kept fucking
him, stared down at him even as his eyes widened. Dean bit down on his
lower lip, and Sam wondered what he was trying not to say.
groaned as Dean kept up the slow steady pace. He was panting for breath
by now, and each thrust of Dean's cock seemed to be attached to his
feelings and to his mouth as words kept falling from his lips without
his conscious thought. "God... more... need you... want you...
Dean...." He shifted and arched as much as he could and the angle of
Dean's thrusts suddenly changed and Sam cried out. "Yours," he panted.
He felt his brother's hand close on his cock again,
and as he began to jerk him off, he started fucking Sam harder. All
words fled Sam then, along with all coherent thought. He was reduced to
whimpers and gasps, to lying there as Dean fucked him, feeling the
pressure and pleasure build to levels that were scarily high.
knew exactly what he was doing -- bringing Sam higher and higher with
every thrust, every pull of his hand. He felt a finger brush the head
of his cock, rubbing a slow circle before Dean's hand pushed back down
the length of his shaft. Sam was close, but he tried to hold back,
didn't want to come, didn't want this to end. He never did.
Dean was saying, "Lemme see you, Sammy. Let me see you come." Dean
thrust into him as deeply as it was possible for him to go and Sam
came, shaking and silent as his climax crashed over him, pleasure
rolling over him in waves so intense he thought he'd pass out.
it all he could still feel Dean inside him, thrusting more slowly, less
intensely. His hands gripped Sam's thighs tightly, though, and his
breathing was growing sharper and loud. As Sam's climax faded to less
intense but still pleasant aftershocks, he was able to focus more on
Dean and all the signs that told that his brother was close to
following him over the edge. "Your turn," he said, squeezing his
"Nnng," was all Dean seemed able to say.
He dropped his head forward and kept fucking Sam, and the harsh panting
of his breath grew quiet until the only sound was the wet slap of skin
as Dean slammed into him.
"Come on, Dean," Sam encouraged in a
breathless voice, his blood still thrumming with the feel of it all. He
squeezed again and kept doing so in a rhythm that matched Dean's
He could see Dean's arms trembling as they held him up,
and his face contorted, mouth dropping open though no sound at all came
out. One last thrust, so hard it shook them both -- then Dean was
coming, breathing fast and eyes screwed tightly shut.
watched, Dean's climax sending a thrill through him that not even his
own had. He reached out and ran a hand along Dean's cheek, wishing he
could see his eyes. Dean pressed his cheek into Sam's hand, rubbing
against his fingers as the last of his orgasm wrung out of him. His
breath staggered, then he gasped audibly for air.
Sam left his hand where it was, caressing, almost petting, as he waited
for Dean to come back down.
without warning, Dean pulled out and collapsed forward, catching
himself with his hands on the bed, and pushed himself to one side.
Immediately Sam rolled to the side and wrapped himself around Dean, a
contented sigh escaping him at the feel of skin against skin, no matter
how sweaty and sticky they were. After a moment, he asked, "You going
to open your eyes anytime soon?"
Dean gave a slight huff of a laugh, then he opened his eyes and smirked.
The smile he gave to strangers.
It wiped Sam's own smile off his face.
Dean frowned. "What... Sammy?"
"Don't do that," he said.
"Don't do what?"
"That," Sam said, gesturing vaguely. "Smile at me like I'm a stranger.
Not here. Not like this."
Dean's smile froze, then he pulled back. "Sorry," he said quietly, and
he tried to move away.
But Sam tightened his hold on him, pressing as close as he could. "No,"
he said. "I'm not letting you go."
"Sam," his brother protested, but there wasn't much heat in his voice.
Sam repeated, squeezing Dean a little tighter as punctuation. He raised
one hand to stroke lightly through his brother's hair, hoping that
would help ease the tension he felt in Dean's every muscle.
felt Dean tremble, but he stopped trying to move away. He turned his
face away, though, eyes closing again. He opened his mouth and took a
breath, and a hint of something bled through to his expression.
got you," Sam said, not stopping the fingers moving through Dean's
hair. He didn't know if it was the right thing to say, but it felt
right. "I'm not going to let go."
All at once Dean blurted, "I hate it when you say that." His
tone was thin and thready, like he was close to breaking.
"Why?" Sam asked, honestly confused.
not that. Not about not letting me go." Dean waved his hand, taking
another deep breath. "That part I like." He rolled over, suddenly,
facing Sam, and pressing himself closer into Sam's hold.
Sam hugged him tighter. "Good."
lay still for a moment, then he wrapped a heavy arm around Sam's waist.
"Sorry," he said after another moment, and the emotion seemed to have
drained from his voice.
"You're doing it again," Sam said, not
unkindly, emphasising his words with a poke in Dean's ribs. "Stop
trying to shut down around me." He paused and asked, "What do you hate
"Ow!" Dean complained, though there was no way he'd
really felt pain from Sam's jab. Sam felt him tense up, still trying to
get away. There was silence for a long time, and just as Sam thought
Dean might not say anything, Dean said quickly, "When you say you love
Oh. Sam had known such declarations made Dean
uncomfortable, had purposely tried avoiding making them because of
that. But sometimes the feeling was so strong it just slipped out. Like
when Dean was fucking him. He couldn't promise not to say it -- he
didn't want to promise not to say it. "Why?" he asked finally.
Dean shook his head. "Just don't."
"But you can tell me you love me."
"That's easy," Dean said with a small laugh. "Loved you all your life."
you don't think I've loved you all my life?" Sam asked, the thought a
strange one he couldn't quite wrap his mind around. Didn't Dean know
he'd been the center of Sam's universe forever?
"I know you love me," Dean said, softly. "Hearing it just...
fuck, don't. Makes me...feel shit. I can't...."
"You can't what?"
"Can't handle it."
"You can't handle what me saying I love you makes you feel."
"It's stupid," Dean whispered.
Sam ignored that. "What does it make you feel?" he asked.
"I don't know. I don't... let it."
Sam thought that over. "Maybe you should," he suggested.
"No." The protest was immediate, but Sam heard desperation in
his brother's voice instead of outright refusal.
Sam tilted his head and regarded Dean, and thought about his options.
"I love you," he said clearly.
"Shut up," Dean snapped. He still had his face pressed against Sam's
chest, and Sam could see his eyes were still closed.
"I love you," he repeated softly, stroking the back of Dean's neck.
"I love you."
"Goddammit," Dean raised his head and glared at Sam, eyes finally open
and blazing with anger.
Sam met his brother's gaze unflinchingly. "I love you."
Dean twisted away from him suddenly, half sitting up and he raised his
hand, punching into the mattress hard.
Sam moved with him, pressing against Dean's back. "I love you."
up shut up shut up," Dean said, nearly chanting it, but he was shaking,
hard. Sam felt when he started to break, and the loud wordless cry
wasn't really a surprise.
Sam hugged Dean tightly, holding him together even as he repeated the
words again. "I love you."
didn't say anything that time, curling up and clinging to Sam's arm.
Sam could feel how hard he was crying now, even though Dean was barely
making a sound.
"I love you," Sam murmured, in a quieter voice,
wrapping himself around his brother, covering him as if he could shield
him from the whole world with just his body and words. "I've got you,
will always have you. I love you."
There was a soft noise, then
Dean said, "No. No, no, no, no--" He pushed back against Sam, then
rolled slightly forward -- rocking himself as he kept whispering. He
turned his face into the pillow and Sam didn't quite hear what he said
"What was that, love?"
Dean voice was breaking, but he turned his face just enough Sam could
hear him say, "Momma."
Dean's voice sounded like a scared little boy. It threatened to break
Sam's heart. "What about Mom?" he asked, keeping his voice as steady
and reassuring as he could.
Dean shook his head, not answering
right away. He stayed silent, still crying and huddled in Sam's
embrace. After a moment, though, Sam heard his brother say, "She... she
"That she loved you?"
His brother just nodded.
caught his breath as he had a sudden, blinding insight. "Dad... he says
a lot, but he's never used the word 'love,' has he?" he thought out
"Never said it after she died," Dean said, still crying. "You...never
used to. Not out loud."
hadn't, Sam realised, not until that first time he'd fucked Dean. "I'm
sorry," he said softly. "I should have. It's always been true."
never said it either," Dean said, obviously trying to regain some
control. "I just...." Then he broke again, as he said, "Haven't heard
it since she died."
Sam dropped a kiss on Dean's shoulder, the
closest bit of skin he could reach, without shifting them around.
"You're going to be hearing it now."
"Sam," Dean said, asking for -- something.
"What, love?" Sam asked, choosing the endearment deliberately.
he begged. But Sam knew he needed it as much as he might not want it.
Or want to admit -- it was hard to tell just how mixed up this all was,
in his brother's head.
Sam was quiet for a moment and then offered, "I bet Mom would want you
to hear 'I love you' from the people who do."
He felt Dean shudder, then with a half-laugh, he said, "You don't fight
Sam grinned. "I learned from the best."
that, Dean weakly jabbed his elbow back, aiming blindly for whatever
part of Sam he could reach. The contact was gentle enough to be a
caress instead of a real objection.
Tightening his hold to keep elbows from jabbing, Sam nuzzled the side
of Dean's neck. "I love you," he said again.
Dean whimpered, but the edge of desperation and grief was gone.
love you." More nuzzling, then Sam chuckled softly. "Think I should
just start dropping that into random conversations. 'No Dean, I'm not
going to detail your car and I love you.'"
There was a choked
laugh that was as much a cry. "You do and I'll put Nair in your shampoo
again." Whatever threat he'd intended it to be, the tone of his voice
was all need.
"No, you won't. You like playing with my hair too
much." He slid a hand up into Dean's hair again. "And even if you did,
I'd still love you."
"You really don't fight fair." He sounded calmer, finally --
and as Sam played with his hair, he felt Dean beginning to relax.
"I fight to win," he replied with a smile. "Especially when what I'm
fighting for is someone I love, like you."
groaned in sleepy protest. His brother was growing boneless, now --
exhausted, no doubt, by the exertion and emotional release.
Sam kept stroking Dean's hair and occasionally dropping a kiss on his
neck or shoulder. "Love you," he murmured again.
grunt of protest was much less audible. Dean shifted a little, settling
himself inside Sam's hold and pulling the pillow under his head. "Jot
de gari," Dean said, softly.
"Go to sleep, love," Sam said equally softly. "I've got you."
His brother just made a quiet, sleepy noise, then he stilled. Sam lay
there quietly, watching his brother sleep.
tape player was blaring Scorpions and Dean was slouched back in the
seat, one hand tapping lightly on his leg in time to the music. He
wasn't singing, really, but sometimes when Sam glanced over he could
see Dean's lips moving.
Sam turned back to the road, hands
tightening on the steering wheel, trying not to grin. If Dean saw him
looking, he'd stop, and he didn't want that.
"Remember, if you
get a speeding ticket, you're paying it." Dean sounded half-awake,
which didn't surprise Sam in the least. He'd been half-awake since
they'd got up that morning, loose-limbed and lazy in the way that only
came from really amazing sex -- or the sort of catharsis that wrung you
out to dry.
Dean had insisted he was able to drive, but when Sam
offered -- not really expecting anything -- Dean had given him a wide
grin and had pointed out that Sam had a key, what was he asking for?
had just grinned and slid behind the wheel when they got in the car to
leave. He looked over at Dean again and decided it had been long enough
since the last time he said it. "Dean?"
"Mmm?" Dean didn't even
glance over; he seemed to be sinking a little more into the passenger
seat. He was smiling, his head titled toward the window and sunshine
lighting his face.
"Fuck you," Dean replied, still smiling.
"Not when I'm driving, thanks," Sam retorted with a grin. He paused.
"Maybe when we get home."
just flipped him off and closed his eyes, resting his head against the
window. As the next song on the tape began to play, Sam saw Dean's lips
beginning to move, again, mouthing the words.
"You can sing out loud, y'know," Sam finally told him. "I won't make
Dean looked surprised. "Sorry, am I bugging you?" From his tone, Sam
knew he was sincerely apologising. He still had no clue how Sam felt
about his singing.
"You're not bugging me," Sam quickly assured
him. "I'm just saying... you don't need to sing under your breath.
Really. I don't mind."
His brother shot him a weird look. "I don't suck rocks, you know."
"I know you don't. I like your singing. I--"
what? When have you ever heard...." Dean trailed off, sounding
thoughtful. "I mean, now that you're old enough to remember?" At that,
he sounded vaguely embarrassed.
Oh well. The cat was well and truly out of the bag now. "You'd be
surprised at what I can remember."
"You remember me singing you to sleep?" Dean sounded very surprised.
Sam nodded. "'Course I do."
He saw Dean narrow his eyes. "What'd I sing, then, moron?"
silent for a moment, Sam stared out at the road and reached for the
memory. Then, softly, hesitantly, he began to sing the song he
remembered following him into dreams.
"Fuck me," Dean said, laughing. "You remember."
"Told you so."
"You were four when I stopped."
remember being four," Sam told him. Then added absently, "And that
wasn't the last time. You sang to me when I was eight too, when I had
that really bad fever."
"Yeah, well... you couldn't sleep," Dean said, embarrassed. Then,
"Dude, you remember that, too?"
Sam said, glancing sideways at his brother. "I remember aching and
feeling absolutely miserable. And you kept putting cold cloths on my
forehead and you sang to me." More shyly, he added, "It made me feel
Dean's answering grin was positively delighted. "Yeah?"
Sam smiled a little. "Yeah."
"So you don't mind if I sing?" Dean asked, a little hesitantly.
don't mind if you sing," Sam repeated, then admitted, "I'd actually...
kinda wish you would. You singing... it still makes me feel better."
smile on Dean's face looked like it was going to split his face
entirely in two. The song on the tape player changed, and, after a
moment, Dean began to sing along.