Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural
Authors Note: Another day, another prompt. This one is both a dialogue and an image prompt. The image was of a moose cookie-cutter in use, dialogue prompt is:
"I remember kissing you. Why do I remember kissing you?"
Warnings: Angst, incest.
*** Special notice: I am in the process of deleting my other account and migrating the fics to this one. Please note that the prompts for this series were pictures.
Moose Cookies
There were some things that Sam wished he had never remembered; killing civilians, women he was borderline abusive with. The memories came to him in flashes, it wasn't something he could control; one minute he would be doing laundry, the next he would remember a bloodstain he couldn't clean from months ago. Sam never tried to reach for them, aware Death's mental wall could crumble at any moment if he dug. Still, it didn't matter how careful he was, there was always something that could trigger a memory, a flash from the soulless creature he was for a year.
"What are you doing?" asked Sam, watching as Dean rolled out what appeared to be cookie dough onto the counter. Stepping closer, Sam realized it was cookie dough flat on the counter. With widened eyes, Sam looked from the counter back to Dean before he noticed a moose-shaped piece of metal off to the side.
"What does it look like I'm doing Poindexter? We finally got a place with a half-decent kitchen for once, and I plan on using it."
Blinking, Sam shrugged his shoulders before returning to the bedroom. Dean wasn't wrong; it wasn't much, an oven and stovetop, but it was better than a lot of places they had been in lately. With Sam's mind balancing on the edge to insanity, he had learned not to sweat the small stuff. If Dean wanted to make cookies, he could do so in peace, the last thing he needed was Sam nagging at him about anything right now. Dean knew Sam was messed up, had called him out on it more than once, but at least now Sam knew where the line was. He simply couldn't scratch at the wall Death had put in his mind and they would ride this wave for as long as they could.
Sam wasn't looking forward to when crashing back on land; when the wall would fell, and he became nothing more than a drooling mass.
Pulling his laptop onto his lap, Sam sat on his bed and began to search for a hunt in the area. They had finished a hunt a few days ago, taking things slow in case Sam couldn't handle it. Tomorrow Dean would be itching for something to kill, there was no sense in wasting time when he could start the legwork now. Glancing up as Dean opened the oven, Sam watched the man place the cookie sheet in the oven before glancing at his phone -presumably the clock, shutting the oven door once he was done. Shrugging off the feeling of watching Dean do something so domestic left in him, Sam continued to comb through online papers and magazines looking for a hunt.
Losing track of time, Sam didn't even hear the television which was stuck on some sitcom Dean enjoyed watching. What Sam did notice was the scent of something burning. Opening his mouth to tell Dean he was burning the cookies, Sam's voice got stuck in his throat.
"Sammy! Fuck that was too close, you got to let me know your plans. I might not have been here in time!"
"I'm fine, Dean, just scorched my hand a little bit, it will heal in a day or two."
"A day or two?! With that burn, it will be at least a week, Sam- "
"You going to kiss it better? No? Then would you let go?"
"Sammy…"
Warmth against his lips, a hand resting on his chest while his own throbbing hand was gripping a firm thigh as legs wrapped around his waist. A flash of teeth pulling his tongue inside a warm mouth, an answering erection against his own. He needed more, needed so much more from the other man.
"Sammy…"
Blinking as a hand was waved in front of his face, Sam looked into Dean's worried eyes. While typically Sam would reassure Dean, especially now that they were walking on thin ice with each other, Sam couldn't help but stare wide-eyed at his brother.
"Sammy?"
This time Sam was able to speak once he felt he could breathe. "I remember kissing you. Why do I remember kissing you?" While he anticipated a wide range of emotions to pass through Dean's eyes still locked with his own, Sam wasn't expecting overwhelming grief to be one of them. Seeing a twitch to Dean's leg, a clear indication he was about to run both physically and metaphorically, Sam reached out and grasped his brother's forearm.
"Dean. Why do I remember kissing you?"
Sam could hear his own desperation in his voice, the way his voice rose slightly at the end. Hopefully, it would be enough for an honest answer from Dean, instead of whatever bullshit he was planning on trying to pull. For a moment Dean opened and closed his mouth not speaking, unable to move without breaking free from Sam's grip.
"It… it was after we figured out you were missing your soul," began Dean, his voice barely above a whisper. "You had just taken out a rugaru, the sucker was chomping down and you just… you got tossed around a bit before you grabbed the blowtorch. The problem was you had been using it earlier and it was still hot. It burned your hand, but you didn't even notice until after it was dead, and we were back at the motel. Fuck Sam, you didn't even seem to notice the thing nearly got you that time, if you had been a bit slower you would have been dead."
"It was you who moved first," continued Dean, no longer looking at Sam, turned to face the wall instead. "I should have said something, done something, but I was so damn happy you were alright. I was surprised at first, I knew you were sleeping with anything that moved at that point, but I didn't think for a second that included me. I guess nothing is taboo without a soul."
Shrugging his shoulders, Dean tried to brush it off, like it didn't mean anything. Like it didn't mean everything. "After, it was like it never happened. You were still the same as you had become without your soul. It didn't change anything… except neither of us looked for someone else to hook up with. I asked you know? I asked why, and you-he told me there wouldn't be much point; said there was no reason to go looking to get laid when he had a willing partner once the hunt died down."
Silence filled the room while Sam tried to process what Dean was telling him. This wasn't just one night where the adrenaline took over. It had happened more than once, more than the one time he could remember. Instead of feeling disgusted at the knowledge it made Sam saddened to know for a moment in time Dean had been his, and he lost that.
"Do you miss him? The man I was without some soul messing things up? Did I… did I take him from you, Dean?" Dean looked at Sam then, eyes wide while he shook his head. "No, not really… I mean it was just sex, Sam. Listen, I know it was wrong, but I knew what it was at the end of the day."
Biting at his bottom lip, Sam looked up at Dean who was standing beside the bed. "And if it wasn't? I mean… could you?"
Dean moved then, his hand taking Sam's and holding it. "Yeah... it… yeah. You too?" Nodding his head, Sam closed his laptop before letting go of Deans hand, using it to brace himself and lean closer to his older brother. Dean met him, their lips pressing together for only a moment, just long enough to be considered a kiss. It wasn't the heat Sam had felt from his memory, but it felt so much better knowing it was him Dean was kissing.
Later as they sat down eating slightly-burnt moose-shaped cookies, Sam leaned his head against Dean's shoulder and smile as the older man wrapped an arm around him. Closing his eyes, Sam let the sound of the television sooth him. While he would stay away from the wall inside his mind, Sam couldn't help but be thankful of at least one memory peaking through. Hopefully, he would have the chance to make more to replace them with.