Spending your life hunting, it becomes easy to place everything into two categories; good and bad. So when something changes it shakes you to your core, makes you question everything, and suddenly it all falls apart, the black and white vision erupting into a million shades of grey. What can you trust, when you can't even trust yourself?
Sam lays in the motel bed, one of a thousand he has seen in his lifetime, eyes wide open, looking to the stars. He searches for a sign, for an answer to the questions filling his head, overwhelming his every sense, drowning him.
Why do I feel this way?
Why me?
Why would you do this?
His prayers are not answered. His thoughts are not heard by anyone but himself, but as he turns his head towards his sleeping brother, every worry, every doubt, everything just melts away. His serenity terrifies him.
Something had shifted within Sam and Dean's relationship a long time ago. Never being able to live an ordinary life, it is down to them to guide each other through it all. Being to hell and back, watching each other die, simply living the lives they lead had created a bond that...complicated things, yet neither one of them spoke of it.
There had, however, been moments. Alcohol fuelled, passing moments, but moments nonetheless. Small comments, lingering hands, nothing to break the dam but enough to apply pressure, and all this time they could feel it building, with neither man knowing what will happen next. Sometimes it was these little acts that kept them going, it was harmless limbo. On the one hand, it pained them not to be able to take the step, yet on the other hand they knew the relationship had not been sullied, that if this was truly unrequited, they could recover.
After a while, the tension was increasing and the moments were becoming...more than passing. After one heavy night of drinking, both boys had stumbled back into their motel room, practically tripping over each other getting inside. Dean went to wash up as Sam crashed onto his bed, passing out almost instantly. When Dean emerged from the bathroom, he looked at Sam sleeping, smiling to himself.
A few hours of drunken sleep pass and Dean is awoken by the movement of his own bed. He instinctively reaches under his pillow to grab his gun, until he hears the familiar grunt behind him.
"Jesus, Sammy, you scared me half to death!" He whispers angrily.
"m'sorry, couldn't sleep"
Dean was about to turn and face Sam but froze. They were both in their boxers, and Dean could feel the excruciating heat ruminating off him as his chest rested against Dean's back. The lump in Dean's throat grew as he kept facing away, not bearing to look at his brother.
"c-come on Sam, you gotta go back to your own bed"
His voice was thick, his own words slurring. He felt like his head was swimming. Sam's fingers gently drag across Dean's back, before nudging under Dean's arm to slump his own across his waist.
Dean can barely let out a whisper, his own mind torn. He knows he needs to stop this, but feeling Sam's hand resting lazily on him was enough to throw him completely off kilter.
"Sam...please..."
"I'm comfy Dean, I ain't movin'" Sam slurs happily.
"Sam, this isn't...just-"
"Who gives a shit man?" Sam giggles. Dean can feel Sam rest his head against his shoulder, and feeling the breath against his skin unravels him even more. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the aching need for his affection, but either way nothing willed Dean enough to press the issue.
And so they lay there, entangled with each other, drifting off into the night. It was incredible, and heartbreaking. Dean was drowning in the same thought, again and again.
Is this all we can have?
The realisation felt like a punch in his stomach.
The situation repeated itself a few more times. They drank, slept in the same bed, then the next morning they acted like nothing happened. It would be treated as if it was an honest mistake, as if they wouldn't cling to each other as tightly as they could, relishing the mere hours they could savour before the sun rose and they had to hide again. At some point Dean swore he could hear muffled sobs.
Everything almost came to a head a few months back. After a night of celebration they made their way to the room, ready to fall into whiskey-driven slumber.
"y-you know I totally could have gotten her number if you hadn't cock-blocked me" Dean slurred as Sam crashed onto his bed.
"oh yeah, she was really up for it after you told her you were FBI, then forgot your own name"
Dean laughed and made his way over to Sam. "you're just jealous 'cause you're dry spell don't look like it's clearing anytime soon" He playfully slapped Sam's arm and attempted to stumble away until he felt a hand on his arm tugging him down onto the bed.
"I'm doing juuuust fine, I'm just not a fucking nympho like you!" Sam retorts as they begin to wrestle on the bed, both too drunk and weak to actually do any damage. They tousle, quipping lame insults at each other in between their laughter, and Sam ends up pinned under Dean.
Suddenly, the room grows silent, with only their heavy breathing filling the quiet. Dean looks at Sam, a crooked half smile creeping onto the younger brother's face. Dean laughs quietly, and gently leans down, resting his forehead on Sam's. Both close their eyes, breathing even harder. Sam is overwhelmed, the scent and feeling of Dean on top of him intoxicates him. Dean slowly lets go of Sam's wrists, letting his chest rest on Sam. he lifts his head and once again looks at his brother, Sam opening his own eyes and staring back. A million words either man could say to each other, yet none compare the emotion that fills the space between them.
But the moment is broken as a knock on the door flings them back to reality. Dean feels heat begin to rise in his face, the realisation of the situation smacking him. He quickly jumps up from the bed to answer it, and Sam is paralysed. All he seems to be able to do is stare at the ceiling, the sounds of the maid at the door being drowned out by his own pumping blood echoing in his ears.
The maid leaves and Dean closes the door, not looking at Sam as he stumbles to the bathroom. He locks the door and manically splashes water on his faces, gripping the sides of the sink as he looks at himself in the mirror, knuckles turning white.
What are you doing?
Suddenly he was happy with the small moments, they were a safety net, innocuous, forgettable. This was...different, and it shook him to his core. One step is all it takes to shatter everything, it could all come crashing down. He waits a few minutes, calms himself, and opens the bathroom door. The room is now dark and Sam is passed out on the bed. Dean doesn't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved, but it seems he doesn't know a lot about himself now.
Morning came, and neither man spoke of it. Through the years they had gotten so good at lying that neither of them knew if the other remembered. Honestly, they didn't know if they even wanted the truth.
Another day, another case solved. Both men were back in the motel room, but Sam noticed Dean shifting uncomfortably, and just sighed in response. They had grown more distant after that night, either consciously or subconsciously, and Dean had started going out and not returning until morning. It infuriated Sam, but he couldn't say anything, and Dean knew that. This didn't stop the fact that every time he saw him stumble through the door in last night's clothes, reeking of whiskey and sex, Sam ached a little more.
"So...any plans tonight Sammy?"
Sam looked to Dean and simply rolled his eyes.
"Just go, okay?"
Dean was surprised by his brother's response. "What?"
"I can see you eyeing the door, just go get your rocks off and leave me alone"
"Sam, it's not-"
"Isn't it?!"
The tension was palpable. Dean didn't know what to say, all he could do was look down at his hands. He felt ashamed for what he was doing, but in his mind there was no other way around it. He needed the distraction, the release. He needed to be away from Sam.
"...okay, I'll go"
The fact that the words were not malicious cut Sam even deeper than if they were. As Dean got off his bed and headed to the door, there were so many things Sam wanted to scream at him, but none of them came out his mouth. He watched his brother leave, picked up a glass from his nightstand, and threw it at the wall.
Fuck you.
The hours drawled on and all Sam did was drink and watch shitty TV, eventually falling asleep. He was woken up a few hours later by-
Oh god. Bed springs.
He couldn't believe it. He was livid.
He's brought a fucking girl back here?!
Sam didn't know what to do. He was laying on his back, and slowly turned his head to confirm his suspicions. Sure enough, he sees the two black figures writhing in Dean's bed. Sam turned back quickly, clenching his fists in anger. He desperately wanted to fall back asleep, but the noises were penetrating him, every moan like a dagger in his chest. It felt masochistic, but he couldn't help but turn his head once again.
It was dark, but he could make out enough. Dean laying underneath, the girl on top facing away from him, letting out soft whimpers as she rode him. It was excruciating to watch, yet Sam couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. He guided his eyes around the scene, sweeping from the girl's body up to rest on…
Dean.
Looking at him.
Sam was helpless, every thought left his mind. He didn't look away, he didn't pretend to be asleep, he just...stopped. As the eye contact was held, Sam could see Dean speeding up, his pace faltering.
Oh my god. He's…
Dean closes his eyes and lets out a moan, Sam's eyes still fixated on him, his anger warring with his lit up passion. This wasn't innocuous. Dean didn't want to be unnoticed...he wanted Sam to see.
The mystery girl slows down then slowly gets up and goes to the bathroom, leaving them alone. Both their minds are cloudy from drinking, but they're lucid enough to know what just happened. The silence is deafening, and a few seconds pass before Dean finally speaks.
"I uh, I'm sorry I-"
"Don't"
Dean is taken aback, but notices a coy smile creep up on Sam's face. "Don't say anything" he slurs, turning away, "words ruin everything"
Dean lets out a small laugh, completely unsure how to respond.
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
Dean hears a soft giggle "you bring a girl back here again and I'll kill you myself"
"Copy that" He says with a smile, "Night, Sammy"
He hears a faint "g'night" before drifting off.
The dam has not broken, but the cracks are certainly starting to show.
Limbo was becoming increasingly difficult. They could easily get through the day, but with night comes alcohol, and with alcohol comes the aching, the wanting, the needing. The more they pushed the limit, the more they knew they couldn't recover from it.
They stopped going out to bars, instead opting to buy bottles and drink in the room. One night after watching some terrible film and sharing a bottle of Jack, they lay on the bed, the only light coming from the lamp next to them. Dean was propped up with Sam resting his head against his chest, in comfortable silence. Until it was broken by a faint, strained voice.
"I can't do this anymore, Dean"
Dean's blood ran cold. The water is trickling through the dam's cracks.
"Do what?" Dean says breathlessly, though his quickening heartbeat is a dead giveaway. Neither man move to look at each other, and Sam closes his eyes to hold back tears.
"We can't keep this up. This...pretending. I can't live like this, man"
There was a pause, Dean didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to make this right. Sam shifted until he was sitting up and turned to face Dean, the tears welling up.
"You're breaking my heart"
Those words seared themselves into Dean, like a hot knife cutting into him. His voice was hoarse, choked in his response.
"I never meant to hurt you, Sammy"
"I know...I know. But it does hurt me, every second"
Tears fell down Dean's face looking at his brother.
"It hurts me, too"
Sam leans in and grabs Dean's arms, pulling him into a hug. Dean presses his face into the crook of Sam's neck.
"It's my fault"
"...What?"
"I don't know how, I-I raised you wrong-"
"No. no, don't you ever think that" Sam said between sniffles. He leans back and takes Dean's face into his hands, using his thumb to wipe the tears.
"You've been the one stability in my life. And I know what it's like to lose you. I...I can't let that happen again, I just can't-"
Sam can barely speak through his tears, and Dean clings his hands on Sam's waist to support him.
"I know, I know Sammy, when I lost you I did the-the stupidest thing to bring you back. I caused you so much pain because...because I couldn't live without you"
Sam looks up to Dean.
"I love you Sam, I always have and I always will"
"I love you too" Sam whispered in response. They were mere inches apart, their noses brushing past each other.
"Sam…" Dean breathed.
"Shhh, words ruin everything"
Sam paused. Every fiber of his being lit up, any inhibition drowned by his ache. He leaned in, and gently pressed his lips to Dean's.
The dam has broken.
It was slow, tender, with the caution that Dean would pull away. But he didn't, instead pushing forward onto Sam, deepening the kiss. As he felt Deans arm snake around his waist to grip him tighter, he moved his hands from Dean's face to wrap around his neck. Dean then pulled, leaning back to lie on the bed, slowly guiding Sam with him. Instinctively Sam straddles him, feverishly moving his hands around his brother's body, as Dean digs his nails into his back. The kiss morphed, soft to passionate, fire lit up in them, years of tension being released in this moment. Sam moves down, planting kisses on Dean's cheek and settling on his neck, biting and sucking his flesh and eliciting an instant moan.
"Oh my god, Sammy…"
Sam smiled into Dean's neck. All the tension, all the build up, yet nothing could prepare them for the relief it was to be finally feeling each other, touching each other, as if they were holding on for dear life.
The night pressed on, and so did they. Two bodies intertwined, like puzzle pieces they fit instantly. Through the cries and moans, they felt complete. They were together.
Sam is awoken by the morning rays shining through the curtain, and it takes a few moments before everything floods back to him.
Oh my god.
He replays the night in his mind and a smile spreads across his face. Finally. He rubs his eyes, turning around to see...an empty bed. An empty room.
Sam bolts upright, worsening his hangover headache, croaking out a panicked "Dean?" and scanning the room. Dean's jacket and keys were gone, and he could see enough through the window to see the impala had gone too. His stomach dropped.
He reaches to grab his phone and notices a note on the nightstand. His hands shaking, he cautiously picked it up and read it.
'Needed some time to clear my head. Be back soon.'
The words didn't exactly fill him with encouragement. He sunk back onto the mattress and dialled Dean's number. No answer. He tried again and again, all going to voicemail.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Sam's head was spinning. He took the plunge and he's been left drowning. He felt helpless, what was he meant to do? Apologize? Leave him alone? The uncertainty was killing him.
So he simply waited, waited for his brother to come back, if he ever would.
Sam is on his laptop when he hears the door open. Dean limps through, blood all down his shirt.
"Oh my god, are you okay?"
Sam immediately gets up to help him but he is pushed away. Dean continues to limp to the bathroom to clean himself up and Sam is lost for words. There is nothing in the world he could say that could make this any easier.
And so he sits in silence, but Dean leaves the door open and Sam watches him, methodically take off shirt, wash the blood off, bandage his wounds. He is silent, steady breath, watching his brother and feeling the intoxication wash over him once more.
That is, until Dean sees him in the mirror.
"Sam...no."
Sam feels the heat rising in his face as he looks away, embarrassed. But then his memories defend him. He knows how Dean feels, and he's not giving up that easily. He gets up off the bed and paces towards Dean, gently placing his hand on Dean's shoulder.
"I said NO!" Dean yells, slapping Sam's hand away. Sam should feel embarrassed, ashamed, but instead anger bubbles within him, ready to lash out.
"Come the fuck on, Dean! You can't deny it now, don't give me that shit!"
Dean turns around and stares at Sam, a heady mix of rage and passion emanating off him. For a second Dean melts at the sight of his brother, but he keeps his guard up. He pushes Sam out the way and begins pacing around the room.
"I know! I know...But this...whatever this fucked up thing is, I...just can't"
"Why not?!"
"Because this isn't what normal people DO!"
Sam watches as Dean sweeps his arm furiously across the table, glass bottles being knocked off and shattering on impact. He stalks over to Dean, pushing him against the wall.
"and since when has our lives ever been fucking normal, Dean?! Since when have we had a normal family, normal friends, normal relationships?! we're making this shit up as we go along!"
Dean can hear the hurt in his strained voice, see the tears begin to well up, and the pull he feels towards Sam feels stronger than ever, wanting nothing more than to make him happy. It hurts him too, tears him up inside to see the pain etched across his brother's face.
"All I know is..." Sam begins but pauses, looking into Dean's eyes.
"Is that I love you. And you love me. We have torn this world apart because we cannot stand to be without each other. You..."
Sam closes his eyes and presses his forehead to Dean's. Dean responds, wrapping his arms around Sam, eyes squeezed to hold back his own tears. They hold each other, clinging on for dear life once more.
"You mean more to me than anyone, and last night was...but I don't want to lose this, I don't want to lose you..." Sam then backs away from Dean and wipes the tears from his eyes.
"So if this isn't what you want, then all you have to do is say so. And we will move on. I can do that"
Dean looks to Sam. Sam, his whole world, his whole life. His brother. His soulmate.
He steps towards Sam, and kisses him. The wind is almost knocked out of Sam as Dean presses against him, the hunger alighting him inside. For the first time in what felt like forever, both of them were sober, able to feel everything with clarity, able to truly savour the moment. Dean pulls away, moving his hand gently around Sam's neck.
"Sam...more than anything in the world, this is what I want"
A smile breaks out on Dean's face, tears welling up. He's not sad, he's extraordinarily happy. He kisses Sam on the forehead, his temple, his cheek, seeing Sam's face light up in response.
"I love you, Sammy"
Sam looks into Dean's eyes, more content than he feels he has ever been.
"I love you too, Dean"