Secrets
By Supernaturalgrl
Chapter 1
The road stretched out before the Impala like black ink spilled upon the empty landscape. The velvet sky was littered with the diamond dust of the Milky Way.
The Winchester boys were tired, aching all the way to the bone. Another town, another hunt, another triumph.
Dean had been driving for 9 hours straight, and he was road weary. Sam was asleep in the passenger seat. He'd had a rough time on this hunt. The demon they eventually dispatched read Sam's mind, and decided to play with Sam's head, torturing him with the horrid details of Jessica's death and afterlife. The cruel words ripped Sam's heart to pieces with guilt enough so that he began to give in, almost allowing the demon to take him over. But at the last minute, a surge of will pushed him into battle mode, and he was able to compliment and balance each move Dean made on the demon, and together, they sent the bastard back to hell for good.
Dean looked over at Sam, noticing the moonlight pale upon his skin. "He looks like an angel," he thought. He wanted so much to lay with him, hold him, and make love to him. But he knew that if he ever even hinted at such a thing, Sam would bolt and he'd never see him again. He couldn't have that. So he settled for what he could have: blistering, unrequieted love. "Oh Sammy, I love you so much," Dean whispered.
The months that Sam had been back with him had been wonderful for Dean, but also bittersweet. Having Sam around again made him feel as if he'd crawled out of a dark hole into the light. But it could be painful as well. Alot of the time, Sam was closed off. Dean understood that the pain of losing Jessica would take time to heal, but so often he wouldn't talk for hours, sometimes even days. Dean wanted so much to help him, but unless Sam would confide in him, there wasn't really anything he could do other than just be there.
Dean's mind began to wander back in time. Back to when he realized he was totally, completely head-over-heels in love with his little brother. Sam was sixteen, and had recently gone through a massive growth spurt. He'd reached 6'4", which pissed Dean off, and had finally grown into his too-large hands and feet. The clumsiness that had always been Sam's trademark was gone. In its place was confidence, self-esteem and iron will, as well as a healthy dose of cockiness mixed with rebellion. He'd also gained co-ordination, strength and stamina. More than once he kicked Dean's ass during their daily sparring.
The Winchesters moved to a new town just in time for basketball tryouts at the high school Sam was to attend. More and more, Sam wanted to have a life separate from his father's hunting obsession, so he went out for the varsity team and made first string. Since he was the tallest, the coach made him the Center. John was reluctant to allow Sam to play, knowing full well that they could be forced to move on again in a few months, or even as little as a few weeks. He wanted to spare Sam any issues with having to leave again. But the look of pride and accomplishment worn on his younger son's face was too much, and he couldn't say no. Instead, he agreed, cautioning Sam to understand the possibility that he could end up not finishing the season. He also extracted a promise from him that he'd keep up with his weapons training and his sparring schedule with his brother, reminding him how important their mission was.
"YOUR mission, Dad, NOT mine," Sam flared immediately. Of course, that started a fight that Dean had to break up. John stormed from the house, not coming back until 3 days later, drunk off his ass. Dean hadn't been worried because he knew his father could handle himself, even if he was intoxicated so fully that he couldn't remember his name. Sam was another story. He felt guilty for lashing out at John, as he did so often these days. He was afraid his Dad would go off half-cocked at someone or something and get into more trouble than he could handle.
"Sam, c'mon, you know Dad better than that. No matter how far gone he is, fucking pissed or drunk, he's always on his game," Dean told him. "Don't torture yourself."
When John finally stumbled in, Sam jumped up to help him.
"Sss'okay, Sammy, we're good son. You just enjoy being a part of something else for a change. I'll try my best to keep us here."
"Thanks, Dad. I'm glad you're ok. I was worried," Sam told him.
"Aww, hell, Sammy, you know me! I can take a lickin' and keep on tickin'," he laughed, pretty tickled at his dumb joke.
"Ok, old man," said Dean. "I think it's time you crawled in the bed and slept this off." John allowed Dean to steer him to his room.
A few weeks later, John went on a hunt alone. Sam had a game, and he asked Dean to come and watch the team play. Of course, Dean would never, HAD never, said no to Sam for any reason. So, even though he'd planned a date with a really loose girl, he went to the game for his brother.
When Sammy's team, the Bullets, took the court, they were unstoppable. Total domination from the get-go. Dean was shocked at how good Sam played. He'd never shown a lot of interest in playing sports, but obviously that had changed. Dean also found out and was very proud to learn that Sam had been elected team captain. He noticed that Sam's teammates paid close attention to everything he said, no one offering any arguments. He watched as the coach would put his arm around Sam and pull him in for a word about their next strategy. And he also noticed that several of the cheerleaders never took their eyes off of him. That bugged Dean. Alot. He didn't understand why he felt like that, not recognizing his jealousy. But when one of the players on Sam's team patted him on the ass after he sank a long shot, Dean was outright pissed and began to analyze why. After a few minutes of following his thoughts, the light came on and he was overcome at his conclusion: "Oh God, I love Sammy," he thought. "Fuck, I'm IN love with Sammy. Oh shit, no! NO! It's not possible!" he screamed at himself just as the final buzzer signaled the end of the game and another win for the Bullets. They were undefeated. Nothing could be heard over the reaction from the crowd. Sam sought out his brother and gave him a huge smile, which Dean returned along with a thumbs up.
About 30 minutes later, Sam found Dean waiting for him outside.
"Hey man! I was afraid you'd left," said Sam.
"Uh, no, I uh...great game man," Dean managed to choke out. "You're really good."
"Naw, it's the team that's really good. I'm just ok. Hey, we're all heading over to Guiluigi's for pizza. Wanna tag along?" Sam asked.
"Tag along?" thought Dean, a little miffed at being made to feel like an outsider. "Uh, no, s'ok man. You go on and celebrate with your buddies," Dean said.
"Sa-am!" a female voice called out. "Are you coming?" she asked.
"I hope to be," Sam said to Dean in a low voice, winking at the same time, a world-class shit-eating grin on his face.
At that statement, Dean's face turned blood red and his heart began to pound. He hoped Sam couldn't see or hear either reaction.
"C'mon Dean, you sure you won't come with us?" asked Sam.
"No, Sammy," Dean responded woodenly. "Go on, I'll see you later." All Dean really wanted was to be alone with his thoughts so that he could figure out was the fuck was wrong with him. He felt like a perverted fucking sicko.
His mind now back in the present, Dean thought of all the women, and then men, he'd used to try and erase Sammy from his mind, to cleanse his thoughts of how desperately he was in love with him. To purge from his heart and wipe from his soul all the things he wanted to say and do to Sam. It had never worked, though. It had gotten to the point recently that he'd taken to going on long walks instead of having meaningless sex with strangers, thinking of his Sammy the whole time. He wanted Sam, plain and simple. He was at the point of total celibacy, preferring to take care of things himself, picturing Sam all the while. Hell, he'd not been with another person in over 6 months.
His attention was suddenly drawn to Sam; he began to moan in his sleep. Dean's heart clenched. He hated to see Sammy having a nightmare.
XXXX
Chapter 2
Sam was talking to Jessica. Funny, he'd forgotten that little mole beside her brow. She was asking him something odd, though.
"Sam? Did you get rid of those spirits in El Paso?" she asked.
Sam was confused. How did she know about El Paso? Then it dawned on him: he was dreaming.
"It's not a dream, Sam. I'm really here".
"Jess", rasped Sam. "What, how...?" he asked.
"Sam, there are more things in heaven and earth than we can ever know about. How isn't important. It's why," she told him.
He just stared at her, mouth gaping.
"Now listen to me Sam. You have to let me go. It's time for both of us to move on," she said.
"No Jess, I..." he began, but she cut him off.
"Sam, it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself. Keeping your family's secret was important, and it's what was best for us. But it's time for you to be happy, and I need peace."
"But if I let you go, I'll have nothing. I can't do it" he said, his voice cracking.
"Yes you can, and you have more than you realize. Don't be afraid, Sam. Dean, he needs you. And you need him. Let yourself feel again."
Sam woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in the seat.
"Whoa, dude, are you ok?" he asked Sam, who was pale as a ghost. He hated when Sam had these horrible dreams. Dreams he would never admit to having.
Sam's chest was heaving. "I'm fine," he responded.
"Brave front, little bro," thought Dean.
Sam leaned his head against the cool glass of the window and stared out at the sky above. He sighed hard. "Will this never end?" he wondered, and he closed his eyes.
Dean turned on the radio and began to tap his thumbs to the beat. Softly he sang along "I feel like making love to you."
"God, PLEASE, kill me now!" Sam barked testily.
Dean looked at him, raising his eyebrows and asked "Dude, what is your problem? You've been an asshole for a month. I can't take much more of your attitude, man".
"Go to hell, ok? Just go to hell," Sam spat.
Shutting the radio off, Dean said "Talk to me Sammy. What's wrong?." Dean wanted so much to help Sam clear his conscience. He felt he knew what Sam was going through.
"Nothing is wrong, man. Ok? Nothing is wrong."
"Bullshit Sam. I know you. When you get this frustrated, and not for any reason I can fathom, you end up exploding, and then you take off."
Sam glared at Dean.
"Remember Indiana?" Dean asked. "You were pissed to the gills at Dad, then me, and you bailed. Sam, I don't want you to bail again. What's up?"
"Aren't you sick of this? Town after town, always on the move, never in one place, never making any connections?" he asked.
Dean was quiet a moment. Didn't Sam feel their connection? "Sick of this? No. Hell no, Sam. I never get tired of kicking ass and sending evil bastards back to hell. If I take a vacation, then someone else falls prey to some fuck like the one who killed Mom and Jess. No, I am not sick of what we do," he said, more than a little irritated by the question. He thought Sam knew him better than that.
"Well, I am," Sam admitted. "I am sick and tired of the madness in this world we inhabit. I would like to close my eyes just once and not think of some awful thing that has happened to us or someone we know."
Quiet for a bit, Dean spoke. "I'm sorry Sam. I know this isn't the life you thought you'd have. We'll take a break for a while," he told him.
"I hope you mean that, man," said a relieved Sam.
"Of course I do. Look: we go all over this country fighting the filth of the planet. We have no home but this car. We deserve a little rest. Besides, isn't it time you try and find a way to move on, do something for yourself?" asked Dean.
Sam sat silent for a few minutes, then, "Dean, I was going to marry her. And I got her killed. I don't deserve to do anything for myself."
Dean looked at Sam's face, twisted in sorrow. He wanted so much to be able to comfort him. "You need to quit punishing youself. You are not responsible for what the demon did. This guilt is going to kill you, Sammy. Let it go."
"Look, this conversation is going nowhere. I'm tired, and I'm hungry. Let's just find somewhere to stop, ok?"
Dean could see that Sam was resolute, so he sighed and nodded his head.
Sam lay his head back against the seat and drifted into his own thoughts. He watched the shadowy sentinels of tall trees pass quickly by in the dark outside the window. If only he could tell Dean everything, what was really hidden away in his soul. He closed his eyes again, hoping that if he did, he would sleep some more, and he would see Jess again. He needed to apologize to her.
A while later, Sam opened his eyes and sat up when he felt the Impala slow down. Dean was pulling into the lot of a small motel.
"Where are we?" Sam asked.
"North east of Kerrville, Texas. Place don't even have a name. It's just a wide spot in the road with a motel, a gas station, and a roadhouse," responded Dean, watching for Sam's reaction. Neither of them liked these little out of the way places. They felt too exposed. But sometimes there just wasn't a choice.
Sam looked around. "Another no-tell motel, huh?" he asked Dean.
"No questions asked at places like this Sammy, you know that. Besides, I'm kinda wasted. We both could use some rest. Dean headed into the office, returning a few minutes later with a key. "We've got lucky room 13," he said, waving the key at Sam.
They gathered their meager belongings and a few protective items and opened the door to yet another roadside dive. Hopefully they wouldn't have to fight the roaches for the beds in this place. As was typical for a Texas joint in the middle of nowhere, this room was decorated in well-worn cheesy 50's TV Western, complete with a hitching post outside the front door. Sam was surprised there wasn't a watering trough out there, too. "Yee haw, ride 'em cowboy," he thought sarcastically.
In the dim light offered by the lone lamp, Sam noticed that there was only one bed in the room. It was a king, but still, only one bed.
"What happened, they run outta rooms with 2 beds?" he asked Dean, his irritation more than obvious.
"Yeah dude, sorry. Lady said they're renovating, and this is the only thing left. Why? We've bunked together plenty in the past." Dean couldn't imagine why this would bug Sam. But he knew why he himself was liking the one bed deal.
"You're a frigging bear to sleep with, man. This was a waste of money, neither of us will get any sleep!" snapped Sam.
"Ah, come on Sammy, I'll do my best not to bug you. Tell you what: I'll give you first crack at the shower," placated Dean. "Besides," he said while pulling his shirt over his head, "I want to do some lifting before I jump in there".
He looked at Sam expectantly. Sam just stood there a minute, eyeing Dean in a strange way.
"Uh, HELLO? You alright man?" Dean asked Sam.
"Yeah, fine. Just thinking, it's nothing," he told him, and Dean's questioning gaze did not waver.
Sam grabbed a fresh pair of boxers from his bag and slunk into the bathroom. He left the door open a bit to vent the steam that would collect when the shower was turned on. He stood at the sink, staring at his reflection in the scraped mirror. His mind went back to Jessica and the things she'd said to him. Had it really been her? He knew it was, because his heart had felt like it would burst while she was with him.
"How can I let go?" he wondered. It was true that he wanted the grieving to be done. So much of his energy had been spent on guilt and anguish. He was ready for it to be over. But what did she mean that he had more than he realized? That didn't ring true. Sam felt like, knew, that he had nothing. And Dean needed him? Since when? Outside of Jess, the only person Sam had ever wanted, had ever loved, was unattainable. He caught sight of Dean in the mirror. He'd stripped to his boxers, and was doing some slow stretching. The muscles in his back rippled as he leaned from side to side and front to back. Sam's breath caught for a moment when Dean bent to pick up his weights, then raised up, a set in each hand. He watched as Dean stood perfectly erect and began his workout, alternating each arm with a slow, steady pace. With every lift, Dean exhaled loudly. Sam's belly fluttered. He gazed intently as a trickle of sweat worked a trail down Dean's back, slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. Sam's mouth had gone dry. In an instant, however, he was cursing himself as he turned to flip on the shower. What had he been thinking? Why had he agreed to help Dean find their Dad? He'd left home to get away from feelings and thoughts that were wrong, foreign, forbidden. When he found Jess, he could finally begin to forget those things he'd dreamt about his brother in the night. And then Dean came to ask him for help, and he couldn't say no. Being close to him again was good, but also torturous and agonizing. There were times Sam would burn with passionate thoughts, and others when he feared he would burn for those thoughts. He climbed into the shower, hoping the water would wash away the sight, sound, and smell of Dean.
Dean heard the shower door roll closed when Sam got in. He put the weights down and plopped on the edge of the bed, cradling his head in his hands. He was worried about Sam. His mood had been getting worse for weeks. Dean knew he was still raw over losing Jessica, but usually he would talk to Dean about it, and Sam would be ok for a while. Not so, recently. All Sam did these days was clam up. And the tight fisted fury with which Sam fought on their most recent hunt, well, Dean had never witnessed anything like that from Sam. Once Sam decided the demon would not win, could not have him, he was raw and feral and beautiful and terrifying all at the same time. Dean worried that Sam was ready to bolt again, maybe for good this time. And he knew if that happened, he would be undone. He had to find a way to help Sam through this tough spot, because he couldn't live through it if Sam left him again.
"Oh Sammy," whispered Dean, "how can I make you see how much I need you?"
His eyes teared and Dean felt the need to punch something. He stood and walked toward the bathroom. Peering through the open door into the mirror, he saw Sam's shadow against the misty glass doors. His strong hands stroked his lithe body, sloughing off the remains of the day. Dean's chest tightened against his ribs until he couldn't breathe. He'd watched Sammy like this a hundred times before, but every time was new. The longing he felt when he watched Sam in these stolen moments was excruciating. Just then the shower clicked off, and Dean had to force himself to move away from the door.
"Sam would run for sure if he knew," he thought ruefully.
Dean was stretched out on the bed. Sam tried not to look at him, laying there all relaxed. "Shit!", he thought. "Stop it!" he scolded himself.
"I can't believe there is only one bed in this room!" snapped Sam, trying to clear his head of thoughts he didn't want to think.
"Geez Sam, I promise not to attack you. For Christ's sake, will you grow up?" Dean snapped back, thinking all the while how sexy Sam looked in his boxers. Then he checked himself. "Watch it man, you are standing on the edge. He'll take off."
"Your turn," Sam said. "And hurry up, I'm starving."
Sam finished getting dressed and plopped in a chair by the window. He pulled back the curtains to look outside. "The Neon Moon. Sounds like a pathetic country song," he thought, hoping all the while that they had some decent food.
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Chapter 3
Dean sighed heavily as he stood under the scalding water. His love for Sam had grown into a beast that raged around in his heart and soul, trampling his emotions into a swirl of darkness. He didn't think he could hold back any longer. He didn't want to hold back. Because the simple fact of the matter was, it was killing him to have Sam around him if he couldn't be with him the way he wanted to be, the way he KNEW it was meant to be. If he couldn't have Sam love him back, he didn't want to continue living in torture, seeing him everyday, smelling him, hearing him breathe in the next bed, wanting him. And so he made a decision. Tonight was the night; it was all or nothing. He was going to tell Sam how he felt about him. Just how to tell him though, he didn't know.
When Dean came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, he found Sam laid back in a chair, long legs stretched out before him, sleeping. Dean stood silently, watching the rise and fall of Sam's chest, noticing the way that his nose would twitch slightly every now and again. Sam's breath caught for a second, and he shifted in the chair. Dean moved over to the bed and began selecting the cleanest clothes he had left. "Laundry time again," he thought, then "Damn, no boxers!". Dean HATED going commando. It just didn't feel right when the boys weren't all together. Oh well, there was nothing for it, he'd have to bare it tonight.
Dean turned his back to Sam and pulled the towel from his waist. Sam opened his eyes and watched as Dean made sure his skin was dry, moving the towel slowly over his tight ass and his muscular legs. Sam's breath quickened as he watched his brother--who had the most perfect male body in existence--tend to himself. Dean reached behind himself to the bed and grabbed his jeans, slipping them on effortlessly. They fit like a glove. As he buttoned his fly he looked up into the mirror that was attached to the dresser and received the shock of his life: he saw Sam staring at him, licking his full lower lip. When Dean turned around without warning, Sam barely got his eyes closed, pretending again to be asleep. Now Dean wasn't so sure. Had his eyes and his hopeful heart been playing tricks on him? Sam appeared just as he had before, peacefully (for once) sleeping. But Dean didn't notice Sam's slight erection.
After he finished dressing, Dean walked over to where Sam lounged and softly touched his shoulder. "Sammy," he said, his voice not masking his desire as he'd hoped. Sam's eyes fluttered open, staring up at Dean in a way that made both of them catch their breath. Dean's heart raced. He wondered what was buried beneath that stare.
"Uh," said Dean, "c'mon dude. Let's see if that joint across the road has a decent pizza."
"You read my mind, man. I've been wanting pizza for a month," Sam told him.
"Then I hope they have the best damn pizza on the planet man. Just for you, Sam."
"Are you ok Dean?" Sam asked.
"What? I'm fine. I can't wish something nice for you?" he asked back sarcastically.
Dean grabbed the room key and headed outside. Sam followed and locked up their room.
The two walked in silence to where the motel's lot met the road they came in on. Nothing approached from either direction, so they crossed to the roadhouse. There were four pickups--imagine that in Texas--in the lot, and they could hear shit kicker music playing loudly through the closed doors and windows of the place.
"Jesus!" swore an exasperated Sam. "I canNOT handle that music Dean. You know I fucking HATE that redneck garbage."
Dean smiled, nodding, and said "Yeah Sammy, I know you do. Maybe we can get our food to go. How's that?" he asked.
"Fine by me cuz I'm getting a frigging headache from out here," he told Dean.
Impulsively, Dean reached up to grasp Sam's neck and massage the muscles that run down the sides and back. Sam stopped, sighing, at first leaning in to Dean's ministrations, but then he pulled away. Dean's hand fell back quickly. "Sorry man. Sometimes when I get like that, the muscles in my neck are knotted up," Dean said apologetically.
"It's cool," said Sam, and they fell silent again. Sam's skin tingled where Dean had touched him, and his stomach fluttered. "Oh man," he thought, "I'm really losing it."
Dean pushed open the door to the Neon Moon and they stepped in.
The air inside was dank and smoky. Sam coughed at the assault the acrid air made on his lungs, and he winced at the volume of the music he hated passionately.
A quartet of very old cowboys looked up from their poker game, less than interested. Sam and Dean ignored them and walked to the bar.
"He'p ya?" the bartender yelled over the music.
"You got a to-go menu?" Dean yelled back.
"Just for pizza and beer" the old guy told him.
"Perfect," Dean said. "We'll take an extra large pizza, loaded, extra jalapenos, and a 12 pack of Bud Light.
"Aw, c'mon man, at least get those peppers on the side!" begged Sam.
Dean could refuse his baby brother nothing, as usual. "Ok Sammy," he said, and told the bartender "extra jalapenos on the side please." Dean looked back at Sam and winked. Sam smiled, feeling that flutter in his stomach yet again.
"Gonna be about 30 minutes" the bartender told them. Sam looked from him to Dean and shook his head. Dean understood that to mean that there was no way Sam would stay there and listen to the shit on the juke box for half an hour. So he handed him the room key and Sam made a rapid exit.
Dean watched him go and suddenly he had an idea. He looked back to the bartender, crooked his finger, and motioned the old guy over to him. "How much for a couple fifths of Glenlivet and two shot glasses?" he asked him.
"Oh, I'm sorry fella, but we cain't do that, we could lose our liquor license," he told Dean.
Dean arched his eyebrows, smirked, and then pulled out his wallet. After finding the one hundred dollar bill he had hidden away, he held it out to the bartender. "This is yours, above the cost of the scotch and the shot glasses," he said. The bartender looked around, then grabbed the money out of Dean's hand and shoved it into his pocket. He winked at Dean, indicating that the transaction would be complete.
Balancing the pizza in one hand and a bag full of alcohol in the other, Dean hurried back to their room. He stood outside the door for a few minutes trying to calm his battered nerves and his pounding heart. This was it. Once he went into this room, he would not come out again until he'd told Sam the truth, for better or worse.
He tapped the door with his toe so that Sam would open up and let him in. Sam came to the door and spoke through it playfully, "What's the password?"
XXXX
Chapter 4
"Open the fucking door or you don't eat," laughed Dean. Sam laughed too and pulled the door open, taking the bag of booze from him. He had changed into a pair of running shorts and taken off his shirt. The sight of Sam's sleek bare chest and his lightly muscled six pack gave Dean chills, and he made a small sound in the back of his throat, a sound Sam just happened to hear. "What?" he asked Dean.
"What what?" Dean asked back.
"Did you say something?" asked Sam.
"Nope, uh, my arm was just strained with that bag, that's all," he said.
"Yeah, what's in here?" Sam wanted to know, ripping the bag open. "Scotch?" he asked, eyebrows raised at Dean. "We planning on getting shitfaced or something?".
"Nah, I just thought it'd be nice to relax a little tonight," said Dean. "Grab the beer, would ya Sam?" he asked as he pulled off his t-shirt, shoes and socks.
They opened the box and got down to business with the pizza. "Not bad for the middle of nowhere," remarked Sam, and Dean nodded his agreement. "Dude, your mouth is going to be on fire! I can't believe you can eat that many peppers!" he said to Dean.
"I like things hot," Dean said in a very throaty, sexy voice. Sexier than he'd intended. Sam cleared his throat and chugged the rest of his beer. He'd made a decision of his own, and liquid courage seemed to be in order. He popped open another one, but he was eyeballing the scotch. He felt it was time to do something drastic. It was killing him to be around Dean and not be able to say and do the things to him that he wanted to say and do. Sam had been in love with Dean since Dean went out on his first date at the age of 16. He remembered how he looked that night: fresh haircut, new clothes, all in black, and the cologne he wore, what was it? Oh yeah, Cool Water. Dean didn't wear that anymore, but whenever Sam caught the scent of it, he'd think of Dean and get hard. Sam also remembered the look on Dean's face when their Dad handed him the keys and the pink slip to the Impala. He almost cried, and Sam did. His Dad gave a little speech about how proud of Dean he was, and that he had become a fine young man, and knew that his mother would be, WAS, proud of him too. Sammy hoped to hear words like that from his Dad one day. On his way out the door, Dean thumbed the tear off of Sam's cheek, winked and said "See ya later little bro." Sam watched from the front room window as his older brother slid behind the wheel of his very first car. It was a night for firsts. Dean's first date, first car, probably his first real kiss. A first for their Dad in that he opened up a little emotionally. That certainly hadn't happened before. And Sam's firsts, well, it was the first time he realized that he could hate someone. He passionately hated the girl Dean was going out with. Hated that Dean would look at her and kiss her. Hated that she would look at Dean the same way and want to do those things back, that she would hold his hand, lay her head on his chest, and then snuggle close at the drive in. It was the first time he realized that he loved his brother differently than what would be considered normal. It was the first time he dreamt of having sex with Dean, of sucking his dick until Dean screamed his love for Sammy. It was the first time he had sexual sensation and connected it with love and another person. And it was the first time he realized that love was torture. As Sam got older, he tried everything he could to get his thoughts of Dean out of his mind. He wanted to like girls, but he found that they were just silly little beings who could never be serious. The first time he came close to anything was when he was the star Center on a basketball team in high school. After a big win one night, he went parking with a cheerleader, but couldn't summon up what it took to make any moves. The girl was highly offended, and started some gay rumors about Sam that no one believed, him being the object of many female affections at his school, and the object of much admiration for alot of the guys. Another time, he made a move on a neighbor girl that Dean had taken to homecoming. On the night they WENT to homecoming. He was successful, as far as petting went, but it was not satisfactory. In fact, he relished the fact that he turned her on and left her cold. He was pissed that Dean had taken her out in the first place, so as far as he was concerned, she deserved it. He was never with another girl in an intimate setting until he met Jessica at Stanford.
"Sam?" Dean said a little loudly.
Sam snapped back to the present, his face flushed from his thoughts. "Yeah?" he responded.
"You want the last piece of pizza?" Dean asked him, to which Sam said "Nah, you can have it."
"Tonight's the night," Sam thought. "It's all or nothing, for better or worse," he mused.
They'd managed to wipe out the beer in short order, but it didn't seem to be having the effect either of them had hoped it would have. Their courage and will needed to be a little stronger in order to do what lay ahead. Dean grabbed a bottle of scotch just as Sam asked "wanna do some shots?". They both laughed, albeit a little nervously.
"Have you ever played 'I Never'?" Dean asked Sam.
"Yeah, we played that alot at school," he told Dean.
"Heh heh, you mean straight arrow Sammy did shots instead of studying?" laughed Dean.
"Fuck you, man," Sam said, to which Dean answered "We'll see...".
Caught off guard by Dean's response, Sam looked at him and said "Huh?" Dean pretended not to hear him.
Setting the shot glasses between them, Dean filled them to the rim. "Do you remember how to play this?" he asked.
"Um, someone makes a statement starting with "I never...", and if the other person has done that thing, they have to do a shot, right?" asked Sam.
"Yeah," said Dean. "And if the one who made the statement has actually done it too, then they also have to do a shot.
"Then I expect you will be drunk way before me, dude, cuz there ain't alot you've never done!" Sam laughed.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," said Dean seriously, then he cracked up.
"You go first, man," said Sam.
Dean took a deep breath and said "Ok, here goes. Hmm, let's see now. What could little Sammy never have done? Oh I know. I never had sex until I was 20," he smirked.
Sam glared at Dean, then tipped his shot. Dean laughed, refilling the glass. "Yer turn."
"I never felt up a girl before I was 18," Sam snarked.
Dean was surprised that Sam knew this. He'd never told a living soul. Dean drank his shot and Sam just sat there. "What're you saying? You felt up some chick before you were 18?" he asked incredulously. Sam's pearly whites beamed the answer.
"Bullshit!" said Dean.
"Swear to God, man. Remember Sara Moser?"
"SARA MOSER? The girl I took to homecoming?!!" yelled Dean. "She was four years older than you!"
"I know," grinned Sam slyly, refilling Dean's glass.
"You're full of it Sam!"
"Nope, not at all. I did it the night you two went to that very homecoming." Dean was furious. "She was outside on her porch about 2 hours after you got home, so I went over to see her. We ended up getting friendly," Sam bragged. If looks could be flames, Dean's eyes would have exploded into orange balls of fire. Sam just laughed louder.
"Uh huh, ok smart ass," said Dean. "I never beat off to Dad's American Hunter magazines."
Sam's eyes were suddenly as big as saucers. He stuttered "How'd you...uh, I mean..."
"Just drink up asshole," Dean smiled wickedly. "What got you off, the big men in camouflage or the dead animals?"
Sam slammed back his shot, ready to kill the brother he loved more than life itself. Refilling Sam's glass, Dean flashed his all-american-boy smile at him. The smile Sam was sure had gotten Dean laid many times in his life. Oh, how he wanted to kiss that smile off of his face and...
"I never did a striptease down to my jock in front of the varsity baseball team," Sam said very matter-of-factly.
Dean turned pink, then blue, then red. Without a word he popped back his shot. He refilled his glass and tossed it back again. Sam grinned and filled it back up. "They made me do that as an initiation to the team, you prick," said Dean in a deadly voice.
Dean had to be ruthless now. His pride was at stake.
"I never made love to a woman and thought of a man," he said to Sam.
Sam's face suddenly drained of color. "Why would he say that?" he wondered, his head beginning to swim from the heat and the alcohol. He stared at his shot. Maybe this was the opening he needed to confess everything to Dean.
Dean's heart skipped several beats waiting to see what Sam would do. "Should I drink now?" he wondered. "Is this the time to let it all out?"
Dean looked at his own shot. The tension in the air was electric.
Together they reached and picked up their glasses. Surprise etched on both their faces, they tipped them back at the same time, replacing them on the table before them.
Silently they looked into one another's eyes. Sam could barely contain his fragile emotions. Dean jumped up, knocking over his chair. In seconds flat, he was towering over Sam, looking down at him with smoldering eyes. Pulling him from his chair, he pushed Sam to the bed. He sat on the edge, looking up at Dean expectantly. It was so quiet they could hear each others hearts pounding in their chests. Sam reached out and placed the flat of his palm over Dean's heart.
Softly, ever so softly, Dean stroked the side of Sam's face, then slipped his fingers into Sam's beautiful brown hair. As he bent to kiss him, a lone tear traced a path down Sam's cheek.
Dean thumbed the tear from Sam's face and said "It's always been you, Sammy, always. I love you."
XXXX
Chapter 5
"Oh God Dean, I love you too, I have for the longest time," choked Sam. "I was afraid you'd hate me." His tears were coming fast now.
"Sam, I could never hate you. Don't cry, Sammy. You've been mine since Dad handed you to me the night Mom died. My life? It's yours for as long as you want it."
He kissed Sam again, parting his lips and searching his mouth with his tongue, his hunger for Sam evident from his fierce possession of his mouth.
Sam whimpered. He pulled away from Dean, breathless. "I want you forever, Dean. Please make love to me," he asked his older brother, scooting to the top of the bed.
Dean removed his jeans. Sam's eyes burned with desire as he looked at Dean's nude body, and saw his cock already hard and at attention. A small moan escaped Sam's lips. "Mine," he whispered.
"Yours," agreed Dean, "for always."
Dean crawled up the bed to Sam, spreading his legs and positioning himself in their midst, then pulling him down so as to get him on his back. He pulled off Sam's shorts to reveal his stiff cock, already leaking and throbbing with need.
Dean leaned into Sam's body, licking his way up his stomach and chest, stopping to suckle Sam's nipples until he cried out "Dean!", sounding as if he could come at any moment.
Suddenly turning serious, Dean said "Sammy, I want you to know, I've never had unprotected sex with anyone, ever."
Heart pounding with passion, Sam responded haltingly "It's...ok...it wouldn't...matter...I would still want you, just the way you are. Dean, Jess is the only person I have ever been with."
Dean was taken aback by this statement. "You've never been with a man?" he asked incredulously.
"No," replied Sam. "You're the only man I've ever wanted. If I couldn't have you, I didn't want anyone else."
At this revelation, Dean lowered his head until it rested on Sam's chest. He was silent, but then Sam detected a faint shaking coming from him.
"Dean? Are you ok? What's wrong?" He lifted Dean's head to look into his eyes, which were now filled with tears.
"Oh Dean, don't..."
"Sammy, I don't deserve to have this with you. I'm...I'm a..."
"You're the man I love, Dean, and the past doesn't matter. I don't care about ANY of those people. We start new today. The past is gone." He kissed Dean softly on his forehead, then he kissed the tears from each eye, finally moving to his luscious mouth. "Now, love me, Dean. Just love me."
And Dean then began searching Sam's mouth anew, forcing it wide, sucking his lower lip and tongue roughly. He moved down Sam's body, nibbling and sucking his way toward his own personal heaven. When he arrived at Sam's groin, he immediately sucked his cock deep into his mouth, causing Sam to buck and arch off of the bed. Calling on God, Sam begged Dean to stop and then not to stop and more and faster and suddenly he was coming as he watched Dean watching him, Dean's mouth red and swollen from his efforts. Sam came and came until he thought his body could take no more. Spent, he sank into the bed, dizzy from it all. Dean moved beside him, nuzzling his neck, kissing his shoulder, sucking his earlobe, making him crazy all over again. Sam, eyes closed, moaned his desire to suck Dean's hard cock. He sat up, pulling Dean into a prone position. Sam began his exploration of his brother's body, hesitantly at first, then spurred on by the noises Dean began to make. He'd worked his way down to Dean's pulsing cock, but stopped. He looked at Dean, unsure of himself.
"Sam, you don't have to," declared Dean.
"No, I want to, I just...I've never..." he said.
"Just go slow.Watch your teeth," Dean encouraged. "Instinct will take over," he rasped.
Sam swiped his tongue across the head of Dean's dick, causing Dean to jump and moan like a 15 year old virgin. "Oh God Sammy! Yes, do that again!" he panted.
Sam licked his cockhead again, relishing the reaction he was getting. He sucked Dean into his mouth, going all the way to the base of his rock hardness. As he moved back up, he followed with his hand, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. He quickened his pace, Dean moaning and writhing beneath him. Sam let go of Dean, which made Dean swear an oath to God and Hell together. Sam wanted to prolong this, explore his brother's body slowly, and learn how to love him.
"Sammy, please," begged Dean. "Don't stop!"
Sam began to kiss around Dean's mass of golden blond hair, then proceeded to lick the inside of his thighs and behind his knees. He kissed his feet, then moved back to Dean's sinful mouth. He kissed and sucked and marked Dean's body, making him wholly his.
"God, Sam, I can't stand this, please..." he pleaded.
"Dean, I want you inside me," Sam said breathlessly.
Dean moved quickly to find his bag and retrieve the small bottle that lay within. He turned around and stopped, staring at Sam laying back on the bed.
"You are so beautiful Sam, God but you are beautiful. And you're mine," Dean told him in a husky voice.
"Yours," Sam agreed, nodding.
Suddenly Dean was atop Sam, attacking every inch of him once more. He worked his way down again, briefly sucking Sam's hard cock into his mouth, making Sam cry out again. Then, moving to the small ring of tightness behind Sam's balls, he slowly licked the outer edge. Sam gasped, pulling his legs up and curling his toes.
"Jesus Dean, don't ever fucking stop!" he yelled out.
Dean grinned, and then sucked Sam's balls one at a time. The sounds coming from his brother made his dick jump and harden painfully. He opened the bottle of lube and generously covered three fingers of his hand as well as Sam's sensitive opening. He inserted one finger slowly, allowing Sam to adjust to the invasion before moving around and beginning the stretch. He pushed all the way inside his lover, finding the sweet spot, but barely skimming over it before removing his finger momentarily. Sam's reaction to the stimulation of his prostate was a deep growling moan of ecstasy. Dean pushed in again with two fingers, reaming and moving around, then added the third. Dean worked Sam for a while, wanting to prepare him as much as possible. He found Sam's prostate again and again, which made Sam babble something about God and Dean, and Dean being God, and loving him.
"Dean, please, fuck me now!" Sam demanded.
With that, Dean got on his knees and looked down at his baby brother, fisting his own cock, lashes lowered, breath coming in short gasps.
"Lube me, Sam," he requested.
Sam sat forward and grabbed the bottle, pouring half of it in his palm. He rubbed his hands together and grabbed Dean's swollen member, smoothing the slightly warm liquid from tip to base. He kissed the head of Dean's cock, then lay back on the bed, reaching down and wiping the remaining lube across his hole.
Dean leaned forward, pushing Sam's legs up and back toward his head, his cock coming to rest against Sam's anus.
"Please Dean, now," Sam begged him.
"Sam," Dean responded in a voice thick with want, "this has to be slow. I don't want to hurt you."
Sam looked at him and nodded, "Ok, but now!"
As Dean pushed forward, he watched Sam's face, wanting to make sure that this was good for him. At first, Sam tensed up, almost pushing Dean back out.
"Just relax, Sammy," Dean whispered, slowly pushing all the way inside him.
Sam's expression changed from lust to discomfort. "It hurts, Dean," he told him.
"I know Sam. Just look at me and breathe." Dean began to rub Sam's stomach in slow, soothing circles. "That's it, relax," he said. "Better?"
Sam nodded, slowing his breathing now. He flexed his tightness around his brother's full cock, causing Dean's eyes to roll back in his head, a guttural moan escaping his sinfully beautiful mouth.
"Sam, oh God, I have to move," he told him, and he began to thrust inside him, slowly at first, increasing his speed steadily.
"Yes Dean, fucking hell, yes! Don't...THERE!!!" cried Sam.
All too quickly, Dean felt his orgasm building. His pace quickened and he whispered gruffly "Come with me Sammy", and they both pitched over the edge into the abyss, crying and gasping words of love for each other.
Sam and Dean were a sweaty mass of tangled limbs. Their breathing had finally slowed to normal. Dean kissed Sam's neck gently.
"Dean?"
"Yeah Sammy?"
"Are we going to hell?" Sam asked seriously.
"Probably," responded Dean. "You care?"
"No," said Sam.
"Me either," said Dean.
Sam lay his head on Dean's chest.
"Sammy? Will you promise me something?"
"Anything. I'll promise you anything Dean."
"Never leave me again, please?"
Sam looked up into Dean's hazel eyes. "Dean, I promise before God in heaven, I will never leave you again. I was wrong to run away. But I couldn't handle my feelings for you. I'm sorry for hurting you," Sam told him.
"Like you said, the past is gone, and this is a new day. I just know that I cannot live without you, Sam."
Sam kissed him softly and said "You don't ever have to worry about that. We belong together. I'm not going anywhere without you ever again."
Contented sighs coming from both men, they lay together, stroking each other until they drifted off into peaceful sleep.
-FIN-