Title: Adjusting

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Summary: Sam and Dean kiss. Dean deals with it badly.

Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own anything.

Notes: Written for a prompt over on livejournal.

Adrenaline was the only thing keeping Dean moving as he ran, pushing people to the side as he raced to get to his brother. Adrenaline wasn't going to be enough.

He wasn't going to be enough.

Sam hit the floor, rolled with the impact and stilled. Feet thudded against concrete and Dean shouted, even though it could do no good. Out of instinct, he grabbed for his gun, pulling the hammer back as he raised it and aimed. He was too far away, it was too dark, there was too much of a risk of hitting Sam. He had no choice.

Dean pulled the trigger and kept on running.

He fell to his knees beside Sam, grabbed at his jacket; wet material sliding through his fingers. The werewolf looked back as it ran off and he shot again with shaky hands. The bullet missed by miles and he cursed as he turned back to his brother.

Breathing. Sam was breathing. Hands moved automatically, placing pressure on the wound. Behind him, someone was calling an ambulance but they couldn't move, couldn't get away until he'd checked Sam, until Sam was alright to move.

They'd been here too many times before; one of them hurt, the other one waiting. It never got any easier. He never stopped wanting to protect Sam, take him somewhere safer where demons and spirits and monsters didn't exist. He couldn't do the impossible.

Minutes later, Sam's eyes opened. The sound of sirens forced Dean to move. He pulled his brother up, holding most of his weight as they staggered towards the Impala.

They passed the police car as they drove away and Dean laughed; wanted to cry.

The scratches were deep, but they would heal. With a werewolf, Sam's injuries could have been much, much worse. Dean had to keep reminding himself that. Ignoring Sam's wince, he doused them in alcohol, using more than was necessary. He worked in silence and listened to his brother's steady breathing as he did so. He reached for some gauze, taped it over the wounds with shaky hands.

"I'm okay, Dean."

He looked up at the sound of his brother's voice, tried to ignore the cut on Sam's forehead. He couldn't-

"Don't ever do that again, you hear me?" Dean turned away, started shoving the first aid kit back in his duffel.

"Do what?"

"Put yourself at risk like that."

"We're hunters, that's what we do." Sam grabbed Dean's shoulders, spun him around. It was an old argument, one that happened every time Sam got hurt.

"Not anymore. It's not worth it."

That was new. Sam sat down on the bed, watching the tense set of Dean's shoulders, the way he fumbled with the zipper on the duffel.

"I bet you're still gonna take risks."

"Shut up. Just shut up, Sam," Dean turned, eyes wild, and pulled his brother up, "I just got you back. Not going to lose you again."

Sam opened his mouth to reply and let out a squeak that he would forever deny when lips pressed against his own. Dean's teeth scraped across his bottom lip and he opened his mouth, pushing back against Dean's tongue, fighting for dominance, forcing him to slow down. Dean moaned as Sam grabbed at his hips, let himself be pressed up against the wall. Sam kissed him until he couldn't breathe and then pulled back, keeping his hands on Dean's waist. His brother's lips were bruised, his hair messy, as he pressed his forehead against Sam's shoulder.

"Promise me, Sammy. Promise that you'll stay safe."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "Yeah, I promise."

Dean pulled away, ran a hand through his hair and went back to the duffel, "C'mon, let's get moving. I called Lee, he's gonna come down and deal with the werewolf. I'll wait for you in the car."

Sam watched his brother leave, and absolutely did not stare at his ass as he went.

They drove for the rest of the night and well into the next day, only stopping once to fill up the car. Sam fell asleep at around ten in the morning and woke up a few hours later, head on Dean's shoulder. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, and glanced out of the window.

"You think we can stop for something to eat soon?"

"Thought I'm the one who thinks with his stomach." Dean smirked, nudged Sam in his side, "I'll pull in when I see somewhere."

"Thanks, Dean." Sam turned in his seat, watching his brother as he drove. It was his turn to smirk as Dean turned slightly pink, but he bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something that would ruin the moment.

A few minutes later, Dean pulled into the parking lot of a diner and waited while Sam dug around for a credit card before jumping out of the car.

Inside, they found a booth and slid into it. As Dean grabbed a menu, Sam hooked his ankle around Dean's, felt the warm skin there, and smiled when his brother jolted in surprise.

"Hi, I'm Stacey. I'll be your server today. Can I get you something to drink?"

Sam watched Dean's gaze flicker up to the waitress.

"I'll have a coffee, please, Stacey. Sammy?" Dean grinned at the woman.

"Yeah, me too, please." He watched at the waitress walked away, then glanced around, "I'll be back in a minute." Shooting one last look at his brother, he headed for the restroom.

Standing at the sink, he splashed his face with water and rubbed at a spot of blood that still lingered. Once he was finished, he made a quick phone call to Bobby to let him know that they were alright. Then, he headed back out into the diner, a smile on his face.

Dean had kissed him, he'd kissed him and he'd let him-

Sam stopped dead.

Stacey had returned but she wasn't standing taking orders anymore. She was sitting across from Dean – where he himself had been sitting just moments before. As Sam watched, she reached up and brushed a strand of honey blonde hair behind her ear, laughing. And Dean – Dean was in full flirting mode, smirk on his face as he reached for his coffee.

This wasn't fair; Dean had kissed him. Dean had made the first move, and now he was acting as though it hadn't happened.

Sam started forward, jealousy overtaking the hurt, and then stopped. He wanted to go over there and kiss Dean, get him hard and needy and willing, so that everyone – so that Stacey – would know that Dean was his.

But what if Dean didn't want him?

Sam turned on his heels and stalked outside.

"You're an idiot." Dean slid into the Impala, glaring at Sam.

"What?" Sam looked out of the window, refusing to meet Dean's eyes.

"I didn't know – I thought you'd gone."

That got his attention. "I – sorry, didn't think."

"Yeah, well, think next time. Geez, what's got up your ass, Princess?"

Sam turned away again.

Dean threw his duffel down onto the bed, taking a cursory look around the latest motel room. Sam knocked his shoulder as he walked past, didn't bother to apologise as he headed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him.

He stared after his brother, cursing when he heard the door lock. Before, at the diner, he'd thought Sam had gone. Now, it looked like he was losing his brother anyway. Sam had refused to talk to him during the drive to the motel and now he was pushing him away.

"C'mon, Sammy. I'm supposed to be the one who doesn't talk about his feelings." Dean leant against the bathroom door.

"Very funny, Dean."

"So, are you going to pout all night?" The door swung open and he fell back into Sam, wincing as his brother's fingers dug into his arm, righting him.

"Don't joke about it like that, Dean. I mean, you think it's funny?"

"I think I don't know what your problem is, that's what I think. And-"

He stopped talking as Sam pushed him up against the wall, his brother's hands rested either side of his head.

"My problem. My problem is you. And that waitress. Yesterday might have meant nothing to you, but it meant a hell of a lot to me so, next time, don't mess me around."

"Sammy, I-"

"Don't. Okay, I get it. You're not gay. You don't think of me that way. Its fine, let's just forget it."

Dean followed Sam as he walked away and grabbed a hold of his shirt, forcing him to spin around. Without giving him time to react, Dean reached up and pulled his head down, lips smacking lips. He held him there, tongue running along the bottom of his lip until he opened his mouth. He waited until Sam had stopped struggling before pulling back.

"I freaked out."

"What?" Sam rubbed at his mouth and sat down on the nearest bed, watching as Dean paced up and down.

"I freaked out, okay. I got scared. I mean, you, we kissed. I thought, when that werewolf attacked you, I thought you were dead. So I kissed you. And I wanted it. Want it. And I didn't know how to handle that, so I acted as though nothing's changed."

"You mean-?"

"Sam, I didn't kiss you twice just because I felt like it. Don't make me spell it out, you know I hate chick flick moments."

"So, if I wanted to kiss you again?"

"That'd be good."

"Stop pacing and come here, then." Sam patted the space next to him.

"What?"

"Come here and kiss me, genius."

"Do we have to do this?" Dean trailed after Sam as he headed through the parking lot.

"Yeah, we do." Sam slowed and waited for him to catch up, wrapping an arm around his waist when he did. "You promised."

Dean squirmed for a moment, saw Sam's pointed look and sighed. "Okay, okay. I guess no-one here knows we're brothers. But this isn't going to turn into a regular thing, alright, Sasquatch?"

"I know, and I get that this is hard for you." He squeezed Dean's waist a little tighter as they walked through the door to the diner.

They headed to the booth that they'd sat in the day before. Sam hesitated for a moment before sliding in next to Dean, thigh pressing against thigh.

"Back again?" Stacey smiled, ignoring Sam and looking directly at Dean.

"Yeah, can we just get some coffee?"

"And some pancakes, please," Sam cut in, "To share."

The waitress glanced back and forth between them, eyes widening when she saw Sam's hand resting on Dean's thigh.

"Sounds good, Sammy."

Stacey nodded and stalked away.

"I hate you." Dean punched Sam's shoulder.

"No, you don't. You love me." He turned his head for a chaste kiss, leaving Dean smiling as he pulled away.

"Yeah, well. Someone's got to. Don't think that means I'm going to cuddle you. Or let you drive my car."

But then Dean leant a little harder into Sam's side, placed his hand over the one on his thigh and Sam really wasn't going to complain about that.