A/N: Looking for something cheerful and upbeat? Something to give you a big, wide grin and warm, fuzzy feelings? This is it. The entire fic was inspired from a review by the lovely Twinchester Angel. I freakin' love her.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
Title: is from the lyrics of the song "Lighters - Bad Meets Evil"
Story Details: An epilogue (somewhat) to my 'Separation Verse' Series, set the morning after the fight at the end of "Too Little, Too Late", but you don't have to have read the other three. Just keep in mind that Sam and Dean were apart for several weeks, Sam came back, they had a fight and now they're sort of together. Also, you will note that I mention Cassie but not Lisa in this story... this story takes place in season 1 (so Dean hasn't met Lisa yet.)
Warnings for: Wincest. Slash. Dean/Cassie (nothing really, barely a reference.) Blowjob. Barebacking. Schmoop. Use of endearments.
Dean isn't sure what wakes him up. He's pretty certain it's not anything dangerous or else he would've been up and out of bed like a gunshot. It's more like a slow bleed into consciousness, breath becoming uneven, eyes lazily prying open.
He can tell he hasn't been sleeping that long; light is filtering in through the dirty window, but it's just a faint glow. He rubs his face against his pillow, muffling his yawn inside it's lingering warmth. He arches against the bed, a soft groan falling from his mouth when his back cracks.
"Hey," a tender voice whispers from somewhere behind him and Dean turns to flash his 'early bird' a smile. An actual smile. Damn, it's good to smile after so many weeks of internal crying.
"'Morning," he greets. " 'S that for me?" he adds when he notices the second styrophoam cup beside Sam's laptop onto the table.
"M'hm" Sam nods, eyes scanning the screen in front of him swiftly before settling on Dean. "D'you need a painkiller with that?" he asks.
"Nah," Dean shakes his head, as he stumbles off the bed, his feet carrying him eagerly towards the steamy coffee. "Which reminds me... Why isn't my back hurting, Sammy?" Dean frowns, after taking a grateful sip. "You still hit like you did when you were twelve. What's with that?"
Sam scowls; then he looks like he reconceders. "Only when you're on the receiving end, dude," he shrugs, as if it's no big deal.
Dean, who had assumed the conversation would go differently, feels something inside him soften and he blinks momentarily disoriented. "Yeah, comfort yourself with that," he awkwardly retorts, raising a hand to ruffle Sam's floppy hair -which somehow ends up being a caress.
"I'm gonna take a shower, d'you find anything interesting for us?" he inquires conversionaly, as his hand falls on Sam's neck rubbing with a purpose when his little brother groans to the touch, wondering if Sam has managed to strain a muscle last night during the shower stunt.
"Think so," Sam replies, head falling forward to give Dean more space to work with. "Go. I'll fill you in afterwards, if I find anything worth mentioning," he urges, though making no move whatsoever to push his brothers hands away.
Dean presses his fingers up and down the center of Sam's neck a few times before retracting his hand, chuckling when Sam makes a sound of protest. "I thought you said 'go'."
"No- yeah- go, dude," Sam answers incoherently, shifting on the chair a bit to push Dean towards the bathroom.
Dean backs away just on time to successfully avoid Sam's flailing arms. "Have you always been this indecisive?" he jokes, half way inside the other room.
"Don't know, man, you tell me. Raised me, remember?" Sam yells, earning a muffled laughter through the now closed door.
...
"So, what've you got?" Dean asks, walking out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam following him, already dressed in jeans and socks, a towel around his toned shoulders.
"A craving..." Sam looks at him from head to toes, gaze lingering on his naked torso, "for pancakes," he concludes.
Dean smirks. "I can go get some and we can eat here, if you want," he suggests.
"I wanna come with you," Sam protests and his eyes widen when he listens to what he said. A faint blush adorns his face and Dean has to force himself to not pounce. They're not together together -yet.
"Sure, bud. Let's go," he replies as calmly as possible, tugging on the rest of his clothes.
Sam closes his laptop and then stands up. "You seem relaxed," he observes as his brother opens the motel's door and they both step outside.
"I am," Dean shrugs patting his pockets to find his car's key.
"I like it," Sam mutters hesitantly, "I forgot how your face looks when you smile over the past few months."
"That was your own fault," Dean reminds him bluntly, but not as an accusation -just as an acknowledgement of the truth.
When Sam opens his mouth to reply, Dean warns him with a raised hand not to speak.
"Sammy? It's a new day, okay? Can we just enjoy breakfast together, and the fact that we're getting along after I don't know how many months and that we... love each other?" he asks, pleased that he can sound so articulate while talking about their reciprocated feelings. The thought ties Dean's stomach into a knot, but in a good way -and he didn't know that was even possible.
"So much..." Sam whispers looking at Dean with huge, round eyes.
"Hm?" Dean mumbles momentarily distracted.
"Love you. So much..." Sam repeats, sounding so honest Dean's heart skips a beat.
"Dammit. C'mere," Dean grabs his brother's arm and tugs him close, because suddenly it's either kiss Sammy or freaking die right where he stands.
Sam seems too timid to move, frozen in place as though he's afraid it can't be real; that a single motion will shatter the beautiful, impossible thing that flares between him and Dean as their eyes lock. One of Dean's hands drags gently over Sam's cheek and through his hair before it comes to rest on the back of his neck, gentle pressure guiding him down to close the remaining distance between them. Their noses bump softly, breath mingling and eyelids fluttering shut as their lips meet with a whisper-light press of skin. Tentative caress soon grows bolder as they melt into each other; Dean's tongue tracing the lines of Sam's mouth, seeking permission Sam gives willingly, parting his lips in sweet surrender.
Time slows, every noise that is made is echoed into each others ears; slow and meticulous. Never ending. The sound of cotton brushed against cotton is louder than it should be and the sighs of breath seem to linger for moments too long. A car pulses by, drowning out other noises... A soft beat of a stereo is pounding in their ears.
"Breathe in and out," Dean tells himself, "concentrate."
This is more important, this moment between them. It's something that shouldn't be disturbed.
The pounding grows louder, breezing past and catching their attention. Then it slows to a methodical buzz.
Just concentrate.
Then nothing. All goes silent.
Dean feels the heat of Sam's body pressing against his own. Sam's mouth feels familiar somehow and Dean's tongue roams the warm, wet landscape as if on an expedition. They're breathing faster, already feeling the burning of desire. Dean can feel his arousal increasing, dancing with Sam's, as they push into each other. After several minutes, they manage to pull themselves apart -breathless.
"D'you wanna go back inside?" Dean pants as he trails his lips from Sam's cheek to his ear.
"Yes- God, Dean... I've so much I need to say to you..." Sam replies, eyes closed, lips brushing against Dean's neck as he speaks.
Dean lightly pulls Sam's hair so his eyes are looking directly into Sam's. "Talking is not what I have in mind."
"Oh-Thank-God," Sam whimpers lunging for Dean's lips.
Dean manages to get the door unlocked, and as he turns the handle, he pulls himself reluctantly from Sam's hungry mouth to say, "Just for the record... You will get to say anything you want to me. I'll listen this time."
Sam nods and smiles.
They stumble into the motel room and Dean slams the door closed with his foot. They kiss as if it's a requirement; years of mutual longing and regret mixing together into a frenzy of deep, crushing kisses. Dean has Sam pinned between himself and the door. His hand gets lost in Sam's hair, then it travels leisurely lower, stroking his neck, feeling the muscles underneath Sam's shirt as it slowly moves to rest on Sam's waist.
Sam pushes Dean's shirt off his shoulders and his T-shirt up, as he begins to stroke the skin of his abdomen. Dean groans when he feels the heat of Sam's palms and he sinks his teeth gently into Sam's neck. Sam's hands caress Dean's chest, his thumbs rubbing softly around his nipples.
"I love your body against mine," Sam rasps in a low-pitched tone, "I love how safe it makes me feel."
They're both panting by now, eyes locked on each other. Sam licks his own lips as he continues to explore Dean's torso, raising his T-shirt higher and higher. Dean stares at him, something like surprise mixed with wonder pooling inside him.
"Is this okay? D'you want me to stop?" Sam asks, sounding concerned. He backs away, pulling his hands off of Dean's marvellous body.
Dean suddenly feels cold, to the places where Sam's hands had been. He grabs Sam by the waist, pulling him back until their bodies are pressed together as close as possible. He kisses Sam tenderly. "Dammit, Sammy. Don't stop. Ever." he groans against Sam's mouth.
Sam's hands find their way back to Dean's body gratefully, as he pulls Dean's T-shirt over his head in one, quick motion. "Shit..." Dean moans as he admires his brother's persistence, eager to enjoy Sam's mouth and tongue on his body as well. His body is fully charged, feeling desire for Sam from his head to his toes -with an electric throb in the center.
Sam's tongue licks Dean's neck and shoulders, tasting the salt of his sweat. His hands find their way to Dean's belt buckle, as he slowly slides his tongue down Dean's chest and abdomen and he sinks to his knees. Sam slowly unbuttones Dean's jeans, looking up to make sure Dean is still with him -that they're still on the same page.
As he pulls the rough material down, taking Dean's boxers with it, Sam sees that a part of Dean's anatomy is definitely on the same page with him. He marvels at Dean's cock, perfectly erect and throbbing, the tip moist with preseminal fluid. Locking eyes with Dean, Sam dives into his fantasy.
Dean holds Sam's gaze, eyes dark and mouth open as he pants. Sam feels Dean's fingers tangling their way into his hair, grabbing strands as Dean expresses his desire in the only way his body can. Sam lightly sucks Dean with his lips, tongue swirling around the head of Dean's cock.
"Fuck, big brother, you taste so good..." he moans right before he takes as much of Dean into his mouth as possible. Sam's head bobs with more and more frenzy as he loses himself to the sensations of Dean -his smell, his taste, the feel of Dean's hard cock gliding in and out of his mouth. Sam loves the fact that Dean has buried his fingers in his hair with care, making sure that he isn't forcing himself too much into Sam's throat.
"Sammy- Oh fuck, yeah," Dean pants and moans.
It's not like Dean's never had a blowjob before. It's not as if this is his first.
But with Sam's mouth stroking him rhythmically and his eyes connected to Dean's, watching his reaction, his intense gaze paired with his ministrations to Dean's cock, this is the first time he's ever felt this.
Sam is looking at him like he's seeing it all, not just his arousal, but every thought he's ever had, even the little things stored away in the deep, dark recesses of his mind. Dean feels transparent, see-through in a way he's never been before, not with anyone, even Cassie.
He's not gonna lie... it's scary. But Dean feels ready to confide his trust to Sam.
With Sam, it feels like it's the first time.
Dean thinks maybe it is.
"Sammy. Oh- Fuck. Sammy. Wait- hold on," Dean eases himself out of Sam's mouth.
Sam freezes. He's freaking out. Shit. What was I thinking. Sam can feel his heart breaking... but Dean just sinks to his knees and frames Sam's face using both his hands.
He kisses Sam deeply. "Hey... I can taste myself on your tongue," he smiles sounding pleased and happy.
"What's wrong? Why did you stop me?" Sam asks with such an expression, Dean feels guilty.
"Oh, baby. Don't look so sad. I'm getting myself right back into that beautiful mouth of yours as quickly as possible. I just thought you were a little over dressed," he says, and kisses Sam again, holding his head steady as he slowly enters Sam's mouth with his tongue. Dean's hands move down Sam's neck, tugging at the collar of his cloth.
Sam tongues his way out of the kiss and takes his shirt off. He stands, helps Dean up and pulls him into another fevered kiss as he spans them around with the purpose of getting them onto the bed. Dean kicks his jeans and boxers that were still wrapped around his ankles to the floor. He manages to get Sam out of his pants in mere seconds. Sam leans back onto the bed and Dean crawls on top of him.
Sam's hands explore the muscles of Dean's back. Dean is huffing out breath after breath, moaning and writhing at Sam's touch. Sam, who is naked, and laying pliantly underneath him, one of Sam's legs in between his own, and Dean can feel Sam's erection pressing into his thigh. Dean thinks he should do something about it; it's only fair. But the way Sam is touching him and looking at him is making him immobile, all possibility of movement foregone for the warmth of Sam's hands and the sweet, soft way he kisses him.
Soft and sweet are not words Dean uses. Ever. Especially not when referring to sex. But here, this, with Sammy, it's soft and it's sweet. Dean's consumed by it, enveloped by the feeling of warmth that spreads through him when he looks at Sam, when Sam smiles, when Sam laughs, when Sam just is.
Everything come naturally. They fit together like they were custom made by God to be together.
Dean feels his world click into place -he decides that he has a favorite flavor apart from pie; Sammy. He can't get enough of him. He pours white, hot ribbons of cum into Sam's body, as his neck arches and his eyes shut tightly and then he crumbles, boneless and sated beside Sam on the bed.
Sam nearly passes out from the rush of blood directed toward his explosive completion when he feels Dean cumming inside him -Dean's hand stroking Sam in duplicate rhythm. His body becomes sticky from his orgasm and -ignoring that- he presses insistently against Dean. But Dean says nothing of it. Instead, he smiles a happy smile and brings his lips to Sam's. They kiss for a long time, prolonged kisses with Sam's tongue sliding against his slowly.
Dean flops his head back on the pillow and opens his eyes to find Sam looking at him, his Eucalyptus Green eyes clear and piercing, a look of total adoration and awe on his face. Sam takes in every detail of Dean as if he has found a hidden treasure.
Sam rests his head on Dean's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and they fall asleep with the early morning sun warming the room. Dean can feel sweat and Sam's passion for him between their skin as they tumble into a dreamless slumber.