When Everything's Made To Be Broken (2/9)
May. 25th, 2008 06:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grianchlochChapter Title: I'd Give Up Forever to Touch You
Story Title: When Everything's Made To Be Broken
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Beta: The lovely Ms![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cocoajava
Word Count: 3665
Disclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them for a while.
Warnings: Incest, spoilers up to Season 3 episode 11, Mystery Spot
Notes: Set Between Mystery Spot and Jus in Bello. When Dean sees how Sam has been touched by the events in Mystery Spot, he insists that they take a week away from hunting and take a break, only it's not where Sam assumes they are going. This is the second in a set of nine fics which cover that week.
Chapter Summary: Dean has a plan to help Sam come to terms with the events of Mystery Spot, but first, he has to persuade Sam to go along with it.
Previous Parts
1 - When Everything's Made To Be Broken.
THURSDAY MORNING
The next morning, Dean woke slowly and wallowed in the skin to skin pleasure of a warm body entwined with his. As he drank in the early morning scents of night before sex and sweat, a strong thigh pressed between his legs as Sam shifted in his sleep. Sam. Dean’s conscious began to take over. Sammy.
Dean tentatively nuzzled the head of dark hair resting on his shoulder, and his fingers traced the swell and dip of muscle on Sam’s arm which was slung across Dean's body, wrapped possessively around him in a way that made him feel safer than he had for a long time. Yeah, Sammy, his Sammy, who’d deep throated him last night. Dean’s eyes shot open as his body showed it’s appreciation of the memory, his morning erection throbbing against Sam’s hip. Dean did his best to ignore it, that and the as yet not too urgent need to pee, and enjoyed the simple pleasure of being held by Sam, by his brother, and damned if Dean could come up with a single reason why that was wrong.
Dean wished with all his heart that they could stay like that forever. Not for the rest of his own short life, but for eternity, so he could protect Sam from anything that might hurt him. But more and more, he could feel time slipping through his fingers. Soon, Sam would be alone, and Dean hated himself for being the cause of so much pain in his brother’s life.
There’d been a bruised hope in Sam’s eyes ever since Dean told him that he didn’t want to go to hell, a set to his jaw that told Dean he was on the case, and more determined than ever to find a way to save him, save them both, but then Tuesday had happened.
The only Tuesday Dean could remember had gone past quickly. Asia. Ordering breakfast. Having to leave it to chase after a manic Sam, who was in turn chasing after an ordinary looking guy, who turned out to be the same son of a bitch trickster Dean thought he’d killed a year ago. Dean scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his free hand and Sam snuffled against his chest and settled back down.
It had only been then, as Sam held the guy against the fence, that Dean had taken the time to really look at his brother’s face, shocked at the near despair he’d seen there and then the fucker had rubbed Sam’s nose in it, taunting him.
“So this is fun for you? Killing Dean over and over again?”
“One? Yes. It is fun. And two? This is so not about killing Dean. This joke? Is on you, Sam. Watching your brother die every day. Forever.”
“Son of a bitch.” Sam was so close to losing it his body trembled.
“How long will it take you to realise? You can’t save your brother, no matter what.”
Dean had seen the lightest of tremors wrack Sam and realised just how close he was to the edge, just how far he’d been pushed and then? Dean’s arm tightened protectively round his brother. Then he’d had to watch Dean die one more time and lived without him for months. Dean was having a really hard time wrapping his head around all this, but one thing he knew. Sam was strung out, and although it was obvious the previous night had helped him, given him a chance he’d missed before, Dean had no doubt that wasn’t the end of it. And like this, Sam was in no fit state to hunt.
Dean pondered their options. They could go to Bobby's, hole up there for a week, maybe two, until Dean thought Sam was ready to be trusted around sharp objects again. One major flaw with that plan was they wouldn't be alone. Bobby thought of them like family, and the poor guy had been through enough without having to listen to the two of them going at it like rabbits in his spare room. That was assuming Sam still wanted “more”. Dean sincerely hoped he did because falling asleep in Sam’s arms the night before had felt like he’d always imagined home would feel like. Warm, comforting and so very right and waking up with his arms full of Sam was something he wanted to do every morning he had left. So Bobby’s place was out.
They could stay here. Dean glanced around the motel room, which was functional, sure, but they'd go stir crazy after a couple of days being cooped up in it and in what had looked like a small uninspiring town, from what he'd seen of it through the car window as they'd arrived.
Or they could go somewhere else. Dean grinned to himself and took his hand off Sam’s arm to fish around on the nightstand for his cell, trying not to jostle his brother into wakefulness, not just yet. His fingers closed around it and he picked it up, flicking through his contacts until he found what he was looking for, glad that he hadn't deleted it.
Lori GC
Course, there was no guarantee that this plan would come together, not at such short notice, but Dean was determined to try. And Dean knew Sam wouldn't like the idea of taking time away from the fight. His brother could be a stubborn bastard, more like Dad had been than he’d probably ever admit to, so Dean reckoned he’d just have to stick to his guns, no matter how much of a hissy fit Sam threw.
Dean kissed the top of Sam’s hair again and wriggled out from under him, stuffing a pillow in his place. He went and stood by the window to make the call, watching Sam as he waited for it to be answered. He was still Sam, Sammy, his brother, that was an unalterable fact of life, but just as Sam had changed in the years he'd been away at college, Dean had seen enough the night before to realise that the Sam sprawled out on the bed wasn't the same Sam he had driven into Broward County with days ago. Served him right for thinking that their lives couldn't possibly get any more fucked up than they already were.
And then there was the added layer of his newly awakened desire for Sam, Dean mused, watching the soft rise and fall of his back as he breathed, noting the long tangle of his legs in the sheets. Things he'd seen a thousand times before, but now it was different, now Dean wanted to explore every inch of Sam's skin with his tongue, trace every scar ...
A woman's voice coming from his cell startled Dean out of his fantasy, and he lied with a practiced ease, keeping the conversation low so as not to disturb his brother.
"Hi, Lori? Hi, it's Ryan Archer. We spoke a while ago about the ... that's right. And I wondered if it was available now? I know it's short notice but ... really? That's great!"
Dean made the arrangements and finished the call, dropping his cell on the table on his way to the bathroom and closing the door behind him, yawning as he stood and took care of business.
Back in the main room, Sam woke with a start, scrambling to sit upright from the sprawl of sheets he’d been sleeping in alone. Alone? No, no, no, not again! The words screamed around his head as his eyes flitted around the room and he took in evidence that the night before, the day before hadn’t been a dream. Two sets of clothes scattered all over the floor mine and Dean’s? And he stumbled from the bed and towards the bathroom door as he heard someone Dean, please let it be Dean moving around in there.
Dean hit the flush, turned on the shower and reached out to grab his toothbrush, totally unprepared for the crash behind him that was the bathroom door hitting the wall with extreme force. Sam stood there naked and panting, eyes wide, still blinking away sleep.
“Sam?” Dean whipped round to face him, his heart hammering in his chest, ready to kill or maim whatever had spooked his brother.
“You were gone.” Sam had mumbled. “I thought ...”
“I’m still here, Sammy.” Dean cupped Sam’s face with his hand. He wanted so badly to say that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he’d always be there, but he couldn’t and now more than ever, the thought of leaving Sam threatened to tear his heart in two.
“Okay.” Sam nodded sheepishly, pushing his face into the touch. It grounded him, the contact with his brother, calmed the strife in his head that threatened to rip him apart if he thought too long on the fact that only he had memories of his life for the past nine months or more, counting in all those fucking Tuesdays. To Dean and the rest of the world, two days ago it had been Tuesday, then Wednesday, and now it was Thursday but not for him. Sam whimpered and Dean’s thumb caressed his cheekbone.
Dean’s other hand ran down Sam’s arm, taking hold of his hand, something he hadn’t done since Sam was a kid, and it felt good, Sam’s long fingers twined with his.
“I’m sorry, Sammy, I should have woken you up.” Dean had always been a fast learner, and he’d have to accept that for now, what Sam needed was him, in his line of sight at least, touching when possible.
“Shower, then breakfast?” Dean suggested, squeezing Sam’s hand. "And for the sake of bathroom doors everywhere, I’ll leave them open from now on. Just ... give me a little privacy now and then?”
“Yeah, okay.” Sam agreed, distractedly, still disorientated.
Dean tugged on his hand and moved closer.
“Do you ... do you still want more?”
Sam’s eyes cleared, focusing on Dean, pupils expanding as his gaze intensified.
“Yeah, I want more.”
Dean smiled and pulled him into the tub to stand under the spray, mesmerised by the way the water droplets ran down the hard planes of his body.
Sam tilted his head back, letting the water soak his hair and Dean leaned in, running his tongue over Sam's exposed throat. He felt rather than heard the low purr he caused and moved closer, pushing against Sam's wet form, groaning at the way Sam's hard cock pressed into his belly.
Dean reached for the soap, lathering it up and running his hands over Sam's shoulders. Soapy bubbles ran down between them as Dean moved on to his arms, down each one to the tips of Sam's long fingers and back up, snaking behind him, working across the muscles of his back and down onto his hips. In contrast to Sam's frantic intensity of the night before, Dean's touches were almost reverential, filled with a tenderness that transcended the lust thrumming through his veins and Sam let him explore unhindered, whimpering with every stroke of Dean's fingers.
Dean looked up at him through long, shower damp lashes, and Sam nuzzled his face, stealing soft wet kisses, revelling in the newness of Dean's mouth being his for the taking. He wanted to tell Dean that he wouldn't break, but there was so much love in each soapy caress that it soaked into Sam's flesh and all he could do was sigh out his brother's name.
"Dean."
It was so raw and needy, the hairs on the back of Dean's neck prickled and his erection throbbed. That Sam wanted him so badly was intoxicating and his soapy fingers slid between them and curled around Sam's engorged cock.
"Say it again." Dean whispered in his ear and grazed the soft skin of the lobe with his teeth.
"Dean!" It was more of a plea now, and Sam pushed him back against the wall, his hand closing around Dean's aching flesh.
The tiles were cold against Dean's back but he hardly noticed. Sam rubbed his soapy body against him and kissed him, droplets of water from his hair falling onto Dean's cheeks like rain and he lapped at them as Dean's hand ran down his back and over the inviting curve of his ass and Sam bucked and groaned at the touch.
One of Sam's large hands splayed over the tile at the side of Dean's head, steadying himself and Dean gripped Sam's hip as they worked each other, eyes locked together, watching each other intently as they came undone.
Sam was first to fall, his eyelids fluttering half closed, his mouth slack and inviting, urging Dean to catch his bottom lip between his teeth and maul it as Sam slammed him against the wall, grinding against him, spurting hot and hard into Dean's hand.
"Ah, God ... Sammy ..."
Dean's tongue slipped into Sam's mouth, fucking it as he followed, twisting and squirming into Sam’s relentless hand, leaving it hot and sticky with come. They stood, panting, wrapped around each other for long minutes until the little sparks of aftershocks lessened and Dean could feel Sam begin to shiver. He gently pushed Sam back under the spray to keep him warm.
Sam was quiet afterwards, his deep seated craving for Dean temporarily sated, if not the basic need to be touching him. To that end, he stood passively as Dean washed his hair and re-soaped his body. Letting Dean take control even in such a small way eased his soul, helped him forget for a while all the time he'd been alone with no big brother around.
And it was a role that came naturally to Dean, despite the newly found aspect to their relationship. More would come later, Dean knew that for a fact, but for the moment, he was back to being what Sam needed right then, his brother, looking after him when there was something wrong, reassuring him with every touch that he was safe now and back in Dean's care.
Dean waited until they were back in the main room getting dressed before he told Sam what he had planned and, as Dean had predicted, Sam didn’t take his suggestion to take a week off too well.
Sam fidgeted. There were things he should be doing, weren’t there? He knew he had places to be. People that he’d saved the first time round still needed him, needed them, but Dean was adamant about taking off for a week, and even used logic against him.
“You’re on a hair trigger, Sammy. You can't hunt like this!”
“Really? And since when did you become the one to decide whether I can hunt or not?”
“Since this thing left you needing to cling to me like a limpet. What if you lost sight of me in the middle of a vamp nest or ... whatever?”
Sam looked at his brother through slitted eyes, swallowing. Dean stared back for a moment then grabbed his jacket and walked out into the deserted parking lot to where the Impala was basking in the morning sunshine. He counted the seconds until the door flew open and Sam stomped out, glaring at him. Sam stuffed his traitorous hands into his pockets to stop himself from reaching for Dean but Dean was straight by his side, his point made.
“But what about the hunts I did on my own? Those people don’t deserve to die just so I can take a vacation.”
Dean realised that he may have won one battle, but the war was still ongoing. He didn’t want to hurt Sam, but maybe playing dirty was the only option if he wanted to get his own way.
“So in the first week after I died, how many people did you save?”
Sam opened his mouth to reel off a list of hunts he’d done on his own, and then understood what Dean was getting at.
“None.” Sam said, almost petulantly and looked down at his shoe, scuffing it in the dirt.
“What did you do that first week?” Dean asked.
Sam bristled, a sudden surge of raw emotion coursing through him.
“I buried you, okay?” He yelled, face so close to Dean’s that Dean could feel the anger against his lips. “I put your dead body on the back seat of the car, drove to Bobby’s, dug your grave and buried you, Dean! Is that what you want to hear? You died in my arms and I ... I ... couldn’t burn you, couldn’t do it ...”
Sam’s whole body shook, and Dean couldn’t tell if he was about to beat the crap out of him or break down in tears. Dean placed a hand firmly on his brother’s face, running his thumb soothingly over a cheekbone.
“Shhh, Sammy.”
The shaking eased back to trembling, and Sam pushed into Dean’s touch. The knot between his eyes didn’t unclench much, Dean noted, which always meant Sam was over thinking things. Once he knew he wasn’t going to get hit, he pulled Sam closer and into his arms.
“You can’t hunt like this. And I can’t believe I’m gonna say it," Dean chuckled lightly against Sam’s shoulder. "But you need some time to deal with this.”
Sam relaxed in his arms and mumbled against his shirt.
“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
Dean grinned and pulled back to look at Sam.
"Is that a yes?"
Sam nodded glumly and Dean's grin widened.
“Good. Now can we have breakfast?”
Sitting in the diner across the lot from the motel, Sam was intently flicking through his mail on the the laptop as Dean watched him from beneath his lashes. Dean was secretly pleased that Sam had come first while they were in the shower, and wondered if they’d added a new twist to their sibling rivalry. Needless to say, he didn’t tell Sam why he looked so smug as he sipped his coffee.
He insisted that Sam eat a decent breakfast, and idly wondered, as Sam chewed on his bacon, if he could persuade him to wear muscle shirts. It seemed a waste to keep all that toned gorgeousness under wraps.
“Dean?” Sam tried to get his attention. “Dude! Have I got something on my neck?” Sam brushed at it with his hand just in case.
Dean snapped out of his shoulder induced trace and grinned at Sam.
“No, I was just ... never mind."
Dean went back to his breakfast.
“So where are we going?” Sam was grudgingly curious.
"Remember last year when I wanted to take a break? Get away from the job for a while?"
"Yeah." Sam answered warily. "You wanted to go to the Grand Canyon."
"Exactly!" Dean grinned.
Sam eyed him.
"What is this obsession you have with the place?"
"Huh?"
"The Grand fucking Canyon!" Sam hissed at him over the table.
"Screw the Grand Canyon, Sammy!" Dean whispered back at him. "This is about taking a week off from the road, crappy hotel rooms and chasing after demons."
“But Dean ...”
“You started this, Sam.”
Sam rolled his eyes and frowned.
“Even without all that shit that happened in Florida, we need it, we both do. It’s my turn, Sammy, my time that's running out and I want this. You took what you wanted, and I’m damned glad you did, but now it’s my turn.”
Sam bit his lip and got that soulful look in his eyes, the one he got whenever they happened to touch on Dean’s coming demise. Dean stretched back in his seat and tangled their legs together under the table.
Sam sighed, glad of the contact. He hated to admit it, and wouldn't admit it to Dean, but his brother was right. Two realities were tumbling around each other in his head, and the only thing that could ground him right now was Dean. Touching Dean, even if it was just their knees bumping together under the diner table like this. Dean was real, tangible and alive and Sam needed that to remind him that this reality was the one that mattered. Here, there was still a chance to save Dean, still a chance that Sam wouldn't be left on his own. Unconciously, he lightly scratched at a spot on his ribs through his shirt where, in another lifetime, he'd dug a bullet out of his own flesh.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you hear what I said?"
"Yeah ... uh no."
Dean raised an eyebrow as he looked at Sam. Yep, they were so doing this.
"I said that it’s a week, that’s all. You'll have the laptop if you want to research, just no hunting.”
"Okay." Sam's agreement was sullen.
“Dude, lighten up. It’ll be fun.” Dean slapped him on the arm and grinned inanely until Sam had no choice but to smile back. “Alright then, let's hit the road.”
Twenty minutes after they set off, Sam began to do double takes at the road signs they were passing.
“Dean, man, we’re going the wrong way.”
“No we’re not.”
“But ... we’re going north. Last time I looked on a map, the Grand Canyon was west of here. Way, way west of here.”
Dean smiled mysteriously.
“Just trust me on this, okay?”
“Okay.” Sam gave up and wriggled around in the car seat until he was facing Dean and could slip a hand onto his thigh. “Wake me up when we get there? Wherever “there” is.” He mumbled the last part and pushed his shades on, closing his eyes.
Dean didn’t reply, he just smirked to himself and hit the gas.
Part Three
Classroom Furniture
Story Title: When Everything's Made To Be Broken
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Sam
Rating: NC-17
Beta: The lovely Ms
cocoajavaWord Count: 3665
Disclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine, I'm just playing with them for a while.
Warnings: Incest, spoilers up to Season 3 episode 11, Mystery Spot
Notes: Set Between Mystery Spot and Jus in Bello. When Dean sees how Sam has been touched by the events in Mystery Spot, he insists that they take a week away from hunting and take a break, only it's not where Sam assumes they are going. This is the second in a set of nine fics which cover that week.
Chapter Summary: Dean has a plan to help Sam come to terms with the events of Mystery Spot, but first, he has to persuade Sam to go along with it.
Previous Parts
1 - When Everything's Made To Be Broken.
THURSDAY MORNING
The next morning, Dean woke slowly and wallowed in the skin to skin pleasure of a warm body entwined with his. As he drank in the early morning scents of night before sex and sweat, a strong thigh pressed between his legs as Sam shifted in his sleep. Sam. Dean’s conscious began to take over. Sammy.
Dean tentatively nuzzled the head of dark hair resting on his shoulder, and his fingers traced the swell and dip of muscle on Sam’s arm which was slung across Dean's body, wrapped possessively around him in a way that made him feel safer than he had for a long time. Yeah, Sammy, his Sammy, who’d deep throated him last night. Dean’s eyes shot open as his body showed it’s appreciation of the memory, his morning erection throbbing against Sam’s hip. Dean did his best to ignore it, that and the as yet not too urgent need to pee, and enjoyed the simple pleasure of being held by Sam, by his brother, and damned if Dean could come up with a single reason why that was wrong.
Dean wished with all his heart that they could stay like that forever. Not for the rest of his own short life, but for eternity, so he could protect Sam from anything that might hurt him. But more and more, he could feel time slipping through his fingers. Soon, Sam would be alone, and Dean hated himself for being the cause of so much pain in his brother’s life.
There’d been a bruised hope in Sam’s eyes ever since Dean told him that he didn’t want to go to hell, a set to his jaw that told Dean he was on the case, and more determined than ever to find a way to save him, save them both, but then Tuesday had happened.
The only Tuesday Dean could remember had gone past quickly. Asia. Ordering breakfast. Having to leave it to chase after a manic Sam, who was in turn chasing after an ordinary looking guy, who turned out to be the same son of a bitch trickster Dean thought he’d killed a year ago. Dean scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his free hand and Sam snuffled against his chest and settled back down.
It had only been then, as Sam held the guy against the fence, that Dean had taken the time to really look at his brother’s face, shocked at the near despair he’d seen there and then the fucker had rubbed Sam’s nose in it, taunting him.
“So this is fun for you? Killing Dean over and over again?”
“One? Yes. It is fun. And two? This is so not about killing Dean. This joke? Is on you, Sam. Watching your brother die every day. Forever.”
“Son of a bitch.” Sam was so close to losing it his body trembled.
“How long will it take you to realise? You can’t save your brother, no matter what.”
Dean had seen the lightest of tremors wrack Sam and realised just how close he was to the edge, just how far he’d been pushed and then? Dean’s arm tightened protectively round his brother. Then he’d had to watch Dean die one more time and lived without him for months. Dean was having a really hard time wrapping his head around all this, but one thing he knew. Sam was strung out, and although it was obvious the previous night had helped him, given him a chance he’d missed before, Dean had no doubt that wasn’t the end of it. And like this, Sam was in no fit state to hunt.
Dean pondered their options. They could go to Bobby's, hole up there for a week, maybe two, until Dean thought Sam was ready to be trusted around sharp objects again. One major flaw with that plan was they wouldn't be alone. Bobby thought of them like family, and the poor guy had been through enough without having to listen to the two of them going at it like rabbits in his spare room. That was assuming Sam still wanted “more”. Dean sincerely hoped he did because falling asleep in Sam’s arms the night before had felt like he’d always imagined home would feel like. Warm, comforting and so very right and waking up with his arms full of Sam was something he wanted to do every morning he had left. So Bobby’s place was out.
They could stay here. Dean glanced around the motel room, which was functional, sure, but they'd go stir crazy after a couple of days being cooped up in it and in what had looked like a small uninspiring town, from what he'd seen of it through the car window as they'd arrived.
Or they could go somewhere else. Dean grinned to himself and took his hand off Sam’s arm to fish around on the nightstand for his cell, trying not to jostle his brother into wakefulness, not just yet. His fingers closed around it and he picked it up, flicking through his contacts until he found what he was looking for, glad that he hadn't deleted it.
Lori GC
Course, there was no guarantee that this plan would come together, not at such short notice, but Dean was determined to try. And Dean knew Sam wouldn't like the idea of taking time away from the fight. His brother could be a stubborn bastard, more like Dad had been than he’d probably ever admit to, so Dean reckoned he’d just have to stick to his guns, no matter how much of a hissy fit Sam threw.
Dean kissed the top of Sam’s hair again and wriggled out from under him, stuffing a pillow in his place. He went and stood by the window to make the call, watching Sam as he waited for it to be answered. He was still Sam, Sammy, his brother, that was an unalterable fact of life, but just as Sam had changed in the years he'd been away at college, Dean had seen enough the night before to realise that the Sam sprawled out on the bed wasn't the same Sam he had driven into Broward County with days ago. Served him right for thinking that their lives couldn't possibly get any more fucked up than they already were.
And then there was the added layer of his newly awakened desire for Sam, Dean mused, watching the soft rise and fall of his back as he breathed, noting the long tangle of his legs in the sheets. Things he'd seen a thousand times before, but now it was different, now Dean wanted to explore every inch of Sam's skin with his tongue, trace every scar ...
A woman's voice coming from his cell startled Dean out of his fantasy, and he lied with a practiced ease, keeping the conversation low so as not to disturb his brother.
"Hi, Lori? Hi, it's Ryan Archer. We spoke a while ago about the ... that's right. And I wondered if it was available now? I know it's short notice but ... really? That's great!"
Dean made the arrangements and finished the call, dropping his cell on the table on his way to the bathroom and closing the door behind him, yawning as he stood and took care of business.
Back in the main room, Sam woke with a start, scrambling to sit upright from the sprawl of sheets he’d been sleeping in alone. Alone? No, no, no, not again! The words screamed around his head as his eyes flitted around the room and he took in evidence that the night before, the day before hadn’t been a dream. Two sets of clothes scattered all over the floor mine and Dean’s? And he stumbled from the bed and towards the bathroom door as he heard someone Dean, please let it be Dean moving around in there.
Dean hit the flush, turned on the shower and reached out to grab his toothbrush, totally unprepared for the crash behind him that was the bathroom door hitting the wall with extreme force. Sam stood there naked and panting, eyes wide, still blinking away sleep.
“Sam?” Dean whipped round to face him, his heart hammering in his chest, ready to kill or maim whatever had spooked his brother.
“You were gone.” Sam had mumbled. “I thought ...”
“I’m still here, Sammy.” Dean cupped Sam’s face with his hand. He wanted so badly to say that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he’d always be there, but he couldn’t and now more than ever, the thought of leaving Sam threatened to tear his heart in two.
“Okay.” Sam nodded sheepishly, pushing his face into the touch. It grounded him, the contact with his brother, calmed the strife in his head that threatened to rip him apart if he thought too long on the fact that only he had memories of his life for the past nine months or more, counting in all those fucking Tuesdays. To Dean and the rest of the world, two days ago it had been Tuesday, then Wednesday, and now it was Thursday but not for him. Sam whimpered and Dean’s thumb caressed his cheekbone.
Dean’s other hand ran down Sam’s arm, taking hold of his hand, something he hadn’t done since Sam was a kid, and it felt good, Sam’s long fingers twined with his.
“I’m sorry, Sammy, I should have woken you up.” Dean had always been a fast learner, and he’d have to accept that for now, what Sam needed was him, in his line of sight at least, touching when possible.
“Shower, then breakfast?” Dean suggested, squeezing Sam’s hand. "And for the sake of bathroom doors everywhere, I’ll leave them open from now on. Just ... give me a little privacy now and then?”
“Yeah, okay.” Sam agreed, distractedly, still disorientated.
Dean tugged on his hand and moved closer.
“Do you ... do you still want more?”
Sam’s eyes cleared, focusing on Dean, pupils expanding as his gaze intensified.
“Yeah, I want more.”
Dean smiled and pulled him into the tub to stand under the spray, mesmerised by the way the water droplets ran down the hard planes of his body.
Sam tilted his head back, letting the water soak his hair and Dean leaned in, running his tongue over Sam's exposed throat. He felt rather than heard the low purr he caused and moved closer, pushing against Sam's wet form, groaning at the way Sam's hard cock pressed into his belly.
Dean reached for the soap, lathering it up and running his hands over Sam's shoulders. Soapy bubbles ran down between them as Dean moved on to his arms, down each one to the tips of Sam's long fingers and back up, snaking behind him, working across the muscles of his back and down onto his hips. In contrast to Sam's frantic intensity of the night before, Dean's touches were almost reverential, filled with a tenderness that transcended the lust thrumming through his veins and Sam let him explore unhindered, whimpering with every stroke of Dean's fingers.
Dean looked up at him through long, shower damp lashes, and Sam nuzzled his face, stealing soft wet kisses, revelling in the newness of Dean's mouth being his for the taking. He wanted to tell Dean that he wouldn't break, but there was so much love in each soapy caress that it soaked into Sam's flesh and all he could do was sigh out his brother's name.
"Dean."
It was so raw and needy, the hairs on the back of Dean's neck prickled and his erection throbbed. That Sam wanted him so badly was intoxicating and his soapy fingers slid between them and curled around Sam's engorged cock.
"Say it again." Dean whispered in his ear and grazed the soft skin of the lobe with his teeth.
"Dean!" It was more of a plea now, and Sam pushed him back against the wall, his hand closing around Dean's aching flesh.
The tiles were cold against Dean's back but he hardly noticed. Sam rubbed his soapy body against him and kissed him, droplets of water from his hair falling onto Dean's cheeks like rain and he lapped at them as Dean's hand ran down his back and over the inviting curve of his ass and Sam bucked and groaned at the touch.
One of Sam's large hands splayed over the tile at the side of Dean's head, steadying himself and Dean gripped Sam's hip as they worked each other, eyes locked together, watching each other intently as they came undone.
Sam was first to fall, his eyelids fluttering half closed, his mouth slack and inviting, urging Dean to catch his bottom lip between his teeth and maul it as Sam slammed him against the wall, grinding against him, spurting hot and hard into Dean's hand.
"Ah, God ... Sammy ..."
Dean's tongue slipped into Sam's mouth, fucking it as he followed, twisting and squirming into Sam’s relentless hand, leaving it hot and sticky with come. They stood, panting, wrapped around each other for long minutes until the little sparks of aftershocks lessened and Dean could feel Sam begin to shiver. He gently pushed Sam back under the spray to keep him warm.
Sam was quiet afterwards, his deep seated craving for Dean temporarily sated, if not the basic need to be touching him. To that end, he stood passively as Dean washed his hair and re-soaped his body. Letting Dean take control even in such a small way eased his soul, helped him forget for a while all the time he'd been alone with no big brother around.
And it was a role that came naturally to Dean, despite the newly found aspect to their relationship. More would come later, Dean knew that for a fact, but for the moment, he was back to being what Sam needed right then, his brother, looking after him when there was something wrong, reassuring him with every touch that he was safe now and back in Dean's care.
Dean waited until they were back in the main room getting dressed before he told Sam what he had planned and, as Dean had predicted, Sam didn’t take his suggestion to take a week off too well.
Sam fidgeted. There were things he should be doing, weren’t there? He knew he had places to be. People that he’d saved the first time round still needed him, needed them, but Dean was adamant about taking off for a week, and even used logic against him.
“You’re on a hair trigger, Sammy. You can't hunt like this!”
“Really? And since when did you become the one to decide whether I can hunt or not?”
“Since this thing left you needing to cling to me like a limpet. What if you lost sight of me in the middle of a vamp nest or ... whatever?”
Sam looked at his brother through slitted eyes, swallowing. Dean stared back for a moment then grabbed his jacket and walked out into the deserted parking lot to where the Impala was basking in the morning sunshine. He counted the seconds until the door flew open and Sam stomped out, glaring at him. Sam stuffed his traitorous hands into his pockets to stop himself from reaching for Dean but Dean was straight by his side, his point made.
“But what about the hunts I did on my own? Those people don’t deserve to die just so I can take a vacation.”
Dean realised that he may have won one battle, but the war was still ongoing. He didn’t want to hurt Sam, but maybe playing dirty was the only option if he wanted to get his own way.
“So in the first week after I died, how many people did you save?”
Sam opened his mouth to reel off a list of hunts he’d done on his own, and then understood what Dean was getting at.
“None.” Sam said, almost petulantly and looked down at his shoe, scuffing it in the dirt.
“What did you do that first week?” Dean asked.
Sam bristled, a sudden surge of raw emotion coursing through him.
“I buried you, okay?” He yelled, face so close to Dean’s that Dean could feel the anger against his lips. “I put your dead body on the back seat of the car, drove to Bobby’s, dug your grave and buried you, Dean! Is that what you want to hear? You died in my arms and I ... I ... couldn’t burn you, couldn’t do it ...”
Sam’s whole body shook, and Dean couldn’t tell if he was about to beat the crap out of him or break down in tears. Dean placed a hand firmly on his brother’s face, running his thumb soothingly over a cheekbone.
“Shhh, Sammy.”
The shaking eased back to trembling, and Sam pushed into Dean’s touch. The knot between his eyes didn’t unclench much, Dean noted, which always meant Sam was over thinking things. Once he knew he wasn’t going to get hit, he pulled Sam closer and into his arms.
“You can’t hunt like this. And I can’t believe I’m gonna say it," Dean chuckled lightly against Sam’s shoulder. "But you need some time to deal with this.”
Sam relaxed in his arms and mumbled against his shirt.
“Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
Dean grinned and pulled back to look at Sam.
"Is that a yes?"
Sam nodded glumly and Dean's grin widened.
“Good. Now can we have breakfast?”
Sitting in the diner across the lot from the motel, Sam was intently flicking through his mail on the the laptop as Dean watched him from beneath his lashes. Dean was secretly pleased that Sam had come first while they were in the shower, and wondered if they’d added a new twist to their sibling rivalry. Needless to say, he didn’t tell Sam why he looked so smug as he sipped his coffee.
He insisted that Sam eat a decent breakfast, and idly wondered, as Sam chewed on his bacon, if he could persuade him to wear muscle shirts. It seemed a waste to keep all that toned gorgeousness under wraps.
“Dean?” Sam tried to get his attention. “Dude! Have I got something on my neck?” Sam brushed at it with his hand just in case.
Dean snapped out of his shoulder induced trace and grinned at Sam.
“No, I was just ... never mind."
Dean went back to his breakfast.
“So where are we going?” Sam was grudgingly curious.
"Remember last year when I wanted to take a break? Get away from the job for a while?"
"Yeah." Sam answered warily. "You wanted to go to the Grand Canyon."
"Exactly!" Dean grinned.
Sam eyed him.
"What is this obsession you have with the place?"
"Huh?"
"The Grand fucking Canyon!" Sam hissed at him over the table.
"Screw the Grand Canyon, Sammy!" Dean whispered back at him. "This is about taking a week off from the road, crappy hotel rooms and chasing after demons."
“But Dean ...”
“You started this, Sam.”
Sam rolled his eyes and frowned.
“Even without all that shit that happened in Florida, we need it, we both do. It’s my turn, Sammy, my time that's running out and I want this. You took what you wanted, and I’m damned glad you did, but now it’s my turn.”
Sam bit his lip and got that soulful look in his eyes, the one he got whenever they happened to touch on Dean’s coming demise. Dean stretched back in his seat and tangled their legs together under the table.
Sam sighed, glad of the contact. He hated to admit it, and wouldn't admit it to Dean, but his brother was right. Two realities were tumbling around each other in his head, and the only thing that could ground him right now was Dean. Touching Dean, even if it was just their knees bumping together under the diner table like this. Dean was real, tangible and alive and Sam needed that to remind him that this reality was the one that mattered. Here, there was still a chance to save Dean, still a chance that Sam wouldn't be left on his own. Unconciously, he lightly scratched at a spot on his ribs through his shirt where, in another lifetime, he'd dug a bullet out of his own flesh.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you hear what I said?"
"Yeah ... uh no."
Dean raised an eyebrow as he looked at Sam. Yep, they were so doing this.
"I said that it’s a week, that’s all. You'll have the laptop if you want to research, just no hunting.”
"Okay." Sam's agreement was sullen.
“Dude, lighten up. It’ll be fun.” Dean slapped him on the arm and grinned inanely until Sam had no choice but to smile back. “Alright then, let's hit the road.”
Twenty minutes after they set off, Sam began to do double takes at the road signs they were passing.
“Dean, man, we’re going the wrong way.”
“No we’re not.”
“But ... we’re going north. Last time I looked on a map, the Grand Canyon was west of here. Way, way west of here.”
Dean smiled mysteriously.
“Just trust me on this, okay?”
“Okay.” Sam gave up and wriggled around in the car seat until he was facing Dean and could slip a hand onto his thigh. “Wake me up when we get there? Wherever “there” is.” He mumbled the last part and pushed his shades on, closing his eyes.
Dean didn’t reply, he just smirked to himself and hit the gas.
Part Three
Classroom Furniture
