When the World Falls Apart
Summary: Sequel to Insult to Injury. It won't make sense if you don't read that first. Tag to Road Trip. Kinda set within First Born, and then afterward...
AN: Please note that I am under the assumption that Castiel has the ability to "zap-transport" again, since in 9x10 he just 'appeared' in the bunker outta nowhere. And seriously...I had no idea it was gonna turn out to be this long. Like seriously...It should be split up, but there's nowhere to split it at. So...enjoy.
.~*~.
Sam couldn't explain the level of emotion that hit him once everything sank in. When he finally realized that everything he'd experienced since leaving that church was a lie; a fabrication. What pissed him off the most was that he'd been played. Gadreel had played him. He'd taken his innermost desires and trapped him in the back of his own mind with them. And now he wasn't sure whether he was pissed about that any more than he was about being torn out of it...
It took everything in him, every iota of strength he could muster, to keep himself from breaking down during the talk with Dean before he left that night. The tears were right there behind his eyes and he wouldn't let them get any further. He couldn't. Because then Dean might have stayed, and that would be bad. Why? Because there was no way Dean felt that way about him. There was no way those things in his head would've ever happened in reality, and there was no way Sam was gonna fess up to him about it when he asked what was wrong.
What was wrong was that his heart had just been horribly broken and he couldn't blame anyone for it but himself. He had no one and nothing to blame but the fact that he ever wanted that in the first place.
Sam was pissed.
Stupid. It was so stupid! The fact that he wanted Dean in that way, to have every part of him, it was stupid and he'd always known that. He'd always been stupid. It's why he came across as whiny or bitchy sometimes. It's hard to be in love with someone that you know you could never have let alone tell. It's hard to watch them go to someone else for what you'd be more than willing to provide, yourself. It hurt. And it made him feel like an idiot because there was no reason to feel hurt about something only he knew about.
This was the story of Sam's life. Feeling bad because he couldn't change something. Feeling guilty because he tried and failed. He had tried to stop feeling the way he felt about Dean probably a thousand times. Just like he tried to save the world, tried to do right by using powers to kill Lilith, tried to get a jump on Lucifer and send him to the pit before he could hurt anyone else, tried to close the gates of Hell...
Do you know what it's like to feel discouraged? I mean really discouraged. Like everything you try to do, no matter how much good you think it'll do or how hard you try or how much you sacrifice, even if it's everything you are, not only is it all for nothing, but it ends up even worse than before you started? Well Sam Winchester knows. Sam Winchester knows probably better than anyone.
Sam Winchester thinks the world would be better off without him. Regardless of what Dean might have to say about that.
That's why he takes the first opportunity that comes around to sacrifice himself for the greater good. Not that he's never done it before, but this time he's got an angel that he trusts, and that angel is the one that's telling him it'll work. So he does it. He pushes for it, even when Castiel seems to realize that that's what could happen, he tells him to keep going; keep drawing out the grace even though it could kill him.
Castiel is, of course, hesitant. Not just because he cares about Sam, or even because he's changed from the angel he used to be. But because when he'd seen the grace earlier, he'd also seen something else. Something Sam probably didn't think could be seen by an angel or anything else for that matter since it had at one point been locked away so deeply within his mind. He'd seen Sam's sorrow, his despair, his heartache and his defeat. He'd seen the reasoning behind this attempt to sacrifice again, even though Dean had gone through so much not to let that happen. The angel couldn't let Sam do it. Finding Gadreel wasn't completely dependent on this, and taking a shortcut was not worth Sam's life, no matter what the man might be thinking right then. One look at the PB&J he could no longer enjoy was all he needed in order to say 'to hell with the shortcut'. Sam was a human. Sam was a hero, despite all of the screw-ups he might have been responsible for. Sam was a good person and a good man and he was loved. And he loved. And to allow that life to end would be a mistake Castiel wouldn't be able to live with.
Sam is a human. There is so much for him to enjoy in life, despite all of the suffering that might come with it. Despite the things he felt he could never have. Castiel would try to remind him of that.
Because Castiel learned many things while he was human, he also knew that revealing the things he'd heard in Sam's mind would be embarrassing for him. It would be a breach of privacy. It would probably make things worse for Sam if he knew. So Castiel talked to him about everything else, instead. About the guilt, the shame, and being sorry. Much to his grateful surprise, Sam had been comforted by it. He'd even hugged him. Cas tried to hear those thoughts again while he was so close, but the man had successfully reburied them, and suddenly the angel questioned whether or not this was the best reaction for Sam to have had...
He waited until Sam was asleep, then left the bunker and dialed Dean's number. It rang four times before the other line picked up.
"Cas, now is not the time," Dean told him. His voice sounded quiet and filled with grief. The angel understood this to mean that Dean was under some sort of stress or feeling upset.
"I understand, Dean, but I need to speak with you. It's about Sam."
"Sam doesn't need me around. I thought we all figured that out."
"Sam nearly had me end his life tonight," he said bluntly. There was no reply from the other side for an uncomfortable amount of time. In fact, he didn't even hear breathing. For a moment, he thought he might have hung up. "Dean?"
"No," Dean replied in an outburst of breath. "There's no way he'd have done that. Not after everything-"
"Especially after everything," Cas countered. He heard rustling on the other line, gravel moving under boots, scuffing and circling.
"What'd he tell you?" Dean asked.
"Nothing," the angel replied. "But I heard it while I was healing him. I heard...many things, Dean, and I need to speak with you. It's urgent." There was no reply from Dean, another long awkward silence from the other line. "Where are you?"
"Nowhere," he replied gruffly. "Nowhere, Missouri. Edge of the river. I don't even know, exactly."
Castiel put his phone away and began searching every edge of the river until he found Dean, still standing there next to the car looking at his phone in confusion.
"Dean," Castiel greeted, and Dean startled as he expected.
"I didn't say to come here," Dean said angrily. "You should be with Sam if he's thinkin' of doing anything stupid."
"He won't kill himself," he replied calmly. "I think we came to an understanding."
"I thought you said he didn't talk to you about it," Dean questioned as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.
"He didn't. But we talked after I was finished healing him, and I believe I left him in good spirits. He even hugged me."
"He hugged you?" Dean asked incredulously. "And you think that's normal?"
"Sam hugs you all the time," he defended.
"Sam hugs me... He does not hug me all the time!" Dean argued. "He hugs me when we haven't seen each other in a year, or one of us died or something insane like that!"
"Well, he was close to death tonight," the angel replied. "When I extracted the remainder of Gadreel's grace, just before I healed him, his body had reverted to the state it was in before any healing had been done. He would have died. So I suppose the hug was warranted, then."
"Whoa whoa...remaining grace?"
"We attempted to use it to track Gadreel, but there wasn't enough. We mostly expected as much."
"Wait, so you both knew there was probably not enough, and that it could kill him, but he went along with it anyway?"
"What did you not understand when I told you that Sam wanted me to end his life?"
Dean stood there silently, jaw working as though he had words to say but couldn't even begin to get them out. His eyes flitted back and forth in the air between them as he mulled it over in his mind. The angel gave him that silence for just a little while longer.
"I need to see something, Dean," he spoke a moment later. Dean met his eyes again. "Sam has a secret. Not a...nothing dangerous. Nothing bad. Just...a private thing that I don't feel comfortable revealing unless I know that it's necessary."
"How could it not be necessary?" Dean asked, voice shaking.
"Because if there's nothing in you that would accept it, it could do more harm than good to tell you," Cas replied.
Dean's eyes flitted again before landing back on the angel's. "What is it you need to see, exactly?"
"Your thoughts."
"My...what? You can see thoughts?"
"I can hear them. If the host is willing to allow it."
"Sam was willing?"
"Sam needed to let me into his mind. It was necessary. The thoughts, he thought, were hidden away enough for me not to see."
"So you're gonna what...root around in my head to try and find my deepest secrets? I don't think so."
"Dean, it's necessary."
"No," he splayed a gesturing hand in front of him.
"It's for Sam. It could be..." he sighed, then took another breath. "It could be the only thing that will repair your broken relationship."
"He doesn't need me, Cas. I keep screwing everything up for him. Last thing he needs or likely even wants is for me to mend things between us."
"That couldn't possibly be further from the truth," Cas replied.
Dean let out a frustrated breath, roughly swiping his hands down over his face. He squared his shoulders. "If I do this, and you don't find what you think is necessary, then what?"
"Then...I will go back and look out for your brother," he told him. "I'll do my best to keep him safe."
Dean nodded, eyes going everywhere but to the angel's face. "Look. Before you do this, there's some things you oughta know," he told him. "I'm...working with Crowley," he said and met Castiel's eyes then. They were narrowed in slight confusion. "I know it's messed up, but...we've found a way to kill Abaddon, and as soon as that's done I'm gonna kill him, too. But in the meantime, if you come across any of that crap, you know what it's about. So...just move past it."
"I don't need to see any of that...crap," Castiel replied. "However, I do suggest we discuss that in the near future. For now, though, I just need you to think about Sam," he told him. "Everything you've ever thought about him."
Dean looked at him for a long moment, then he swallowed before asking, "Everything?"
Castiel didn't bother giving him an answer before he placed his fingers on the man's forehead. All of Dean's thoughts came rushing to the surface, everything laced with Sam. Every time he'd been angry, frustrated, annoyed. Every moment he'd been amused, happy, sad, jealous. Every time he'd thought about how much he loved him, would do anything for him, would sacrifice anything to make him okay. Every inappropriate feeling... Every...inappropriate...
"Whoa wait wait!" Dean pushed him away slightly, backing himself up until he hit the car and could go no further. "You can't... That isn't... You shouldn't- just please forget that. Don't..."
"Dean," the angel stopped the man's nervous stumbling. "There's something you need to know..."
.~*~.
Dean had left a note for Crowley. It said to call him if he got back before he did. He even left the damn car because he didn't have time to drive it. He didn't even have the energy or the mental stability required to do so in that moment. Not after what Cas told him. Not after knowing what Sam had been doing in that locked room in his mind where Gadreel had shut him away.
Not after knowing why Sam had looked so heartbroken before he left that night.
The angel had zapped them back to the bunker, and Dean had to admit that despite the sorrow that came with being back in this place after what happened to Kevin, it still felt like he was coming home. The mess he'd made had been picked up. Everything was back in order. Sam and his OCD...
He expected Sam to be in bed, asleep. That's where Castiel told him he'd left him. But he heard the refrigerator close in the kitchen and so he headed there, leaving the angel to go somewhere and give them privacy. Sam had a glass of milk in his hand and he was standing facing the counter, dressed in pajama pants and an old faded tee. He turned when he saw a figure standing from the corner of his eye. He dropped the glass when he realized who it was, the glass shattering on impact.
"Dean..."
"That was a brand new glass, Sammy," he said without any scolding, brows raised and a slight smile on his face as he stood there a bit nervously.
"Dean, what're you doing here?" Sam asked, ignoring the comment as he stood there in a bit of shock. He looked like he'd just woken up and wasn't fully coherent yet.
"What I can't come here now?"
"No, that's... That's not what I..." Sam stumbled over his words as he struggled not to freak out. "I thought you didn't wanna be around me anymore."
"That's not what I said," Dean told him, a finger motioning in the air in front of him. "I just...didn't wanna screw anything else up." He watched Sam's throat work as he swallowed. "I always seem to screw things up, Sam. You deserve better than that. You deserve better than me."
Sam looked at him for a moment, his brows twitching as he blinked through thoughts. "You're not the only one that screws things up around here, Dean," he replied. "We both do it. All the time, actually. But...we always fix it," he added. "Together."
Dean could see moisture building up in his brother's eyes, which never failed to get the same reaction from him, so he nodded and looked down for a moment to catch his bearings. "I'm here because...we need to talk," he told him as he looked back up. "I don't like leaving you to yourself with all that...stuff going on that I know is going on in that gigantic brain." Sam shook his head and looked away for a moment. "All that stuff you think is your fault, and I know you think that because that's just what you do. It doesn't matter what you think about it, Kevin's death is not because of you."
"It's not your fault either," Sam replied wetly.
"It kinda is, but that's not the only reason I came back."
"Then why?" he asked.
"I needed to tell you that I'm sorry."
"I already know that, Dean."
"Yeah well...I needed to say it anyway," he said as he cautiously took a few steps toward him, stopping when he saw Sam take a step back. "I need to say I'm sorry, Sam, for a lot of things. For things that you don't even know yet. But most of all, I need to apologize for being such an idiot."
"What?"
"Sam...I need to tell you something, and I have no idea how to do it, because I don't have a clue about this kinda crap, and I sure as hell don't know what you'll do when I tell you. So...just...stop acting like I'm gonna hit you, okay? Just...stay still and let me come over there because if you need to throw a punch I wanna make it real easy for you, to at least make up for the bullshit I put you through these past months."
The truth was, Sam hadn't realized he'd been backing away. He wasn't sure if he was even awake at this point. Seeing Dean...well, he hadn't expected it. Not tonight. It felt strange. It felt unreal and he was afraid that if Dean got too close he might wake up and it'd be over and he missed him too damn much. He missed being with Dean. And part of him was afraid that he was awake and if Dean got too close, he might not be able to stop himself from jumping him...because he really missed that part, too. The part that was never real. The part that he hated himself for wanting...
He looked down at the floor, willing himself to stay still as his brother stepped forward. For the first time, he noticed the broken glass and spilled milk. He watched Dean's boot as it stepped over the mess. Then he watched Dean's hand as it came up and grabbed gently onto Sam's biceps. That's when he looked up at met his eyes.
"Sammy," Dean's voice sounded nervous, and his eyes flitted back and forth between Sam's. "Please don't hate me. Please."
Sam's brows pinched at the words. "I would never hate you, Dean," he replied brokenly.
"You might... Sam, I love you," he told him. Sam's head shook for a moment. "I mean, I love you...like more than I should. Like...in ways I shouldn't, Sam. I know it makes me some kinda freak...really, I do. And I know it's crazy, and it's why I've never said anything because if you ever left...if you ever hated me I don't think I could live with that." Sam was full on shaking his head now, tears escaping his eyes and streaming down his cheeks. "Sam? What..."
"I'm dreaming," he said. "I'm asleep and this is a dream. To think I would be...stupid enough to really believe you'd come back-"
"No, Sam-"
"Why am I dreaming this?" he shouted through tears as he pulled away from his brother and started out of the kitchen. "I thought I'd shoved this all away. I'm not supposed to think about it anymore..."
"Sam, would you listen to me?" Dean said as he caught up to him and grabbed his arm. Sam stopped, but he didn't turn around to face him. "This isn't a dream, okay? I'm here. Cas brought me here."
"Why would he do that?"
"Because you're an idiot."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam looked at him then.
"You were gonna let yourself die for a damn spell, that's what I'm talking about," he replied gruffly.
Sam's eyes narrowed. "He told you that?" he asked, head cocked a bit in aggravation.
"Yeah he did. You wanna know why? Because he cares about you and he was worried, and he wanted me to come back and..." he thought over the next words carefully, "And tell you how I feel. Tell you what I've always been too afraid to tell you, since I was already convinced you'd hated me anyway."
Sam swallowed. He didn't wanna let himself believe that this was real. He didn't think he could handle that again. "How would Cas know how you felt?" Sam asked. "Did you...tell him?"
"Not really... He uh...he kinda figured it out," Dean told him.
"But..." Sam was confused, but he shook his head as if to clear it, forcing to push that part from his thoughts. "Okay but why would he have..." he started to ask the question, but then something occurred to him, and his face went slack, then white, and finally a shade of pink. "Oh god. Did he...did he see something in my head?" his voice nearly squeaked with both embarrassment and rage. "Is that when he came to you and told you to pretend you liked me too? Like I'm some kinda charity case?"
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Dean nearly shouted, incredulously.
"You can't do that to me," Sam's face crumbled with the words, his entire posture sagging with defeat as his eyes filled again. "You can't do this to me..."
"Damnit, Sam, would you just listen instead of jumping to the worst possible conclusion?"
"You really expect me to believe it, Dean?" he asked as he sunk down onto the table-top he normally researched at. "You think it's been easy being the way I am? Wanting something I should absolutely never want? And now you wanna convince me that you're just as fucked up as I am?"
"Is it so hard to believe?"
"Yeah," he exclaimed with wide eyes. "Yeah it is!"
"Oh for god's sake," Dean pushed forward into Sam, pressing his mouth against his brother's as he held firmly onto either side of the younger man's head, holding him in place.
"Dean! Stop!" Sam tried to push him away, scrambling for purchase to not fall off of the table.
"No, Sammy. Not until you believe me," he replied, moving one hand to grab and hold Sam's back, securing him in place as he moved his mouth to his brother's neck.
"Dean..." Sam's breath came in short puffs as he tried to think this through, to judge whether or not Dean would do something like this just to secure a lie. But he should've known better. Dean would never do something like that. He'd never try and convince Sam that his wrong feelings were okay. And the only way Dean would ever be convinced that they were okay is if he actually felt them too...
Then he allowed himself to feel what Dean was doing. He allowed his eyes to close at the feeling of Dean's mouth traveling up his neck and to his ear, to his jaw and his cheek and back to his lips again.
"Is this real?" Sam asked, almost whispering.
"I promise it is," Dean replied, pressing in closer now that Sam seemed to be getting with the program.
With those words, Sam's arms were around his brother and pulling him even closer, devouring Dean's mouth with his own. It was like his dreams, but there was something about it, something more distinct and clear and real and it was better than what he'd pictured in his little locked room in his head. He moved his hands to tear at the long-sleeved button-up that Dean was wearing as an extra layer, pulling it down and off of his arms before trailing his hands back up the now exposed skin. Only, Dean hissed and pulled away when Sam's fingers grazed what felt like a large scar.
Dean had forgotten, if only just for that moment, until it all came crashing back to him. The burning sensation was still there, as if Cain had branded him with a hot iron.
"What is this?" Sam asked when he grabbed Dean's arms to get a look at it. He met Dean's eyes, and the fear and shame he saw in them churned his gut. "Dean, what happened? What did this?"
"It's kind of a long story," Dean replied shakily. Sam's nostrils flared as he breathed, and Dean knew that meant he wasn't gonna get away with not telling him. "Look, it's just a thing, okay? It's just something I had to do so I can kill Abaddon."
"A thing you had to do?" Sam's brows rose. "What does that even mean?"
"It's so I can use a special weapon," he replied, backing away just a little, feeling the previous mood start to drift away from both of them. "The only thing that'll kill her."
"And then what happens after that?" Sam asked. "Dean, who told you all of this? Where's the weapon?"
"You're gonna be pissed, Sam, but you've gotta trust me on this. It was the only way." He backed up a little as Sam stood, honestly afraid of what his brother's reaction would be. "It was Crowley," he told him. "We've kinda been...working together sort of..."
"What?"
"Look, I don't like it any more than you do, but I didn't see much of a choice. And I should've, really. I should've seen it, because the dick was playing me all along and I seriously have no idea what the hell I've gotten myself into. All I know is that the part where this thing helps me to use that weapon is the truth. It's all that mattered."
"What the hell were you thinking?" Sam asked as he stepped forward toward him.
"I was thinking I needed to fix what I fucked up, and...that there was no way I could possibly screw up more than I already have," he replied. He didn't expect what happened. He didn't expect Sam to grab him by the front of his shirt with both hands and slam him back against the wall. He did, however, expect the look on his brother's face; the anger and anguish and the tears barely being held at bay as he looked at him.
"When?"
Dean's eyes twitched. "Huh?"
"When do you get the weapon and go after her?" he asked.
"I...I dunno. When Crowley finds the thing in the ocean where it was thrown. Then we go from there."
"I'm coming with you."
"No way, Sammy, this is my mess and I've gotta clean it up on my-"
"I'm coming with you," Sam repeated. "Because it's not just your mess, Dean. We clean this up together." His fists still clung onto the front of Dean's shirt as Dean's eyes seemed to frantically search in the air between them for a valid argument against it. "You've said it before, a hundred times. It's you and me against the world. Don't make me sit it out while you're off fighting it on your own. That's not how this is supposed to work."
Dean swallowed as he looked back and forth between his brother's eyes. "Okay... Okay, Sam."
And Sam's mouth was on his again, even more heated than before, his hands snaking around behind him roughly, grabbing at his hips and ass before pressing a leg between Dean's. Just like that, Dean went from zero to rock hard in mere seconds. He couldn't help his hips from bucking hard against him. "Dean," Sam groaned into his mouth as he pressed right back into him.
"Fuck, Sammy," he said, and all else was lost.
For Dean, there had always been this lingering horrible feeling of dread that Castiel had misinterpreted things. That Sam didn't really actually feel the way Cas thought he felt. But clearly he'd been right. Amazingly...awesomely right. In a million years, he never thought his sick fantasies would ever be real. He never thought he'd be able to touch Sam this way; that Sam would want to touch him this way...
His hands grabbed for every part of Sam, pressing, pulling, touching. He wanted it all. He wanted to feel every part of him. For the life of him, though, he needed to let Sam take the wheel on this, because he couldn't quite figure out if he was willing to believe it was real, yet.
"Dean...god...missed this," Sam said against Dean's throat before running his teeth along it.
"Missed...wait, what?" Dean asked, confused.
At once, Sam realized his mistake. "No...I...I mean...sorry... I mean I miss you. I missed you..."
"Sam... Tell me," he growled. He already knew. Cas had already told him what he'd seen, or rather what he'd heard and concluded. Sam hid his face in the crook of Dean's neck where it met his shoulder, curling a bit in on himself. "Oh come on, man. We're sucking face and humping eachothers legs right now and you're embarrassed to tell me something?"
"You'll think I'm an idiot," Sam mumbled into Dean's shoulder.
"How is that any different from any other day?" Dean asked. Sam punched him in the gut, and Dean coughed a laugh. "I'm kidding. C'mon. You're the smartest guy I know. Just tell me."
Sam groaned. Then he mumbled something else, but Dean couldn't hear it that time.
"What? Dude...I can't hear you."
"We were together," Sam repeated. "In my head. When Gadreel locked me away. It was us...being together. We were together...like this."
"Really?" Dean tried to act as though he were hearing the information for the first time.
Sam was motionless, still curled in and hiding in the crook of Dean's neck. "It's part of why I was so pissed," he told him. "It's why I let you walk away. ...I'm sorry, Dean. Fuck..."
"Hey," Dean held him tighter. "It was my choice to leave."
"And I could've told you to stop," Sam retorted, pulling away enough to look at his face. "And now you've gone and gotten yourself into something possibly life-changing because I wasn't there to tell you how stupid it was."
"You don't know that," Dean shook his head. "So what, the mark comes with a price or a burden to bear. Like I haven't had that my entire damn life."
"What?" Sam's eyes widened as he questioned him incredulously. "Dean, what the hell? A price? What is this, a curse?"
"No!" Dean denied, looking away for a moment. "I don't know..."
Sam pushed away from him in anger. "You don't even know? You just jumped into this without even thinking about what the consequences might be?"
"Have we met?" Dean asked with raised brows.
"You don't even care about what happens to you, do you?" Sam shook his head, still angry and shocked, though really he thought he shouldn't be.
"It's not about me, Sammy. It's never been about me."
He didn't expect the sudden stinging numbness on his cheek where Sam had decided to deck him.
Before he could even respond with more than bringing a hand up to the newly sore spot, Sam had him by the shoulders pressed up against the wall again.
"You idiot," Sam growled. "It's always been about you. You're everything to me..." he told him, shaking with a combination of frustration and anger. "God you just...you have no idea, do you?" His face gave one last scowl before his mouth came crashing down onto Dean's again, even more heated than before.
Dean isn't sure what to do in that moment. But when the burning in his cheek fades away to the aching in his cock, he gets with the program.
Or well...not so much gets 'with' as much as 'gets', because Sam's the only one doing much of anything. Dean's just all for it, is all, and he's at least kissing back, now. Sam is suddenly fumbling open Dean's jeans, and Dean instinctively goes to the waistband on his brother's pajama bottoms, slipping fingers just beneath the stretchy hem before yanking them down. Sam groaned into Dean's mouth when their cocks are suddenly out where they need to be, hands wrapping around each others, pre-come already leaking out to be a convenient lubricant.
And it's not enough. It's not nearly enough for either of them, but neither of them want to put this off any longer to do it properly. There's plenty of time for proper, later. Dean hopes so, anyway.
Sam is angry and frustrated and really he's mourning. He needs to touch Dean, make him see, make him feel how much he loves him and wants him, and it kills him inside that he doesn't already know it. Dean does so much for him. Too much. Always doing things for Sam that Sam would never have let him do. Not when it hurt Dean to do them.
Even now, Sam was unwilling to let Dean do anything. He swatted his brother's hand away, then grabbed both wrists, directing Dean's hands to sit on Sam's shoulders. He even pulled out of the kiss to look at him and make sure that he understood that that's where they needed to stay. Dean seemed momentarily confused, until Sam grabbed onto both of their cocks with one hand. Then he didn't need to think at all, really.
Sam's mouth was back on Dean's, his free hand sliding into the back of Dean's jeans, pushing them down farther and farther and if Dean had had the ability, he might be wondering why. Then he felt Sam's hand dipping in between his ass cheeks, and his instinct was to tense up because he wasn't sure what was happening.
Sam wedged a leg further between Dean's legs, forcing him to widen his stance as Sam twisted his fist around their cocks, sliding so perfectly and thrusting against him at the same time. Suddenly Sam's fingers were rubbing circles at his entrance and fuck if that didn't make Dean ten times harder than he already was.
Fuck if he ever thought that would be such a damn turn on.
And he must've said something out loud, made some kind of encouraging noise, because Sam kept on doing it, and Dean could feel himself starting to fall off of the edge. His mouth no longer able to keep up with everything Sam was doing to him, it just hung open, absentmindedly pressing halfway onto his brother's cheek as he breathed through the building inferno he knew was about to explode.
"Dean...god..." Sam could feel it starting, the clenching and unclenching of Dean's entrance under his working fingers, the twitching of his cock against Sam's, and the fact that Dean was pressing back against his administrations shot a spark through him right to his dick, and then they were both coming. Gibberish amongst groans and panting and sticky evidence.
Dean's head was buzzing like he'd taken a long drag off a blue sky blond. Not that he'd done that much, but there was this one time and this one hippie chick... This kinda felt like that, but better because he'd just had an amazing orgasm and Sam's the one that gave it to him.
By the time he can think straight, Sam's coming back from somewhere – when the hell did he leave? And he's got a washcloth in his hand and he's wiping come off of the top of his pants. Dean looks down at himself to see he's at least been tucked back in, jeans pulled up enough not to drop all the way to the floor, and he's leaning on the wall which is probably the only thing keeping him up at all at this point.
Dean watches him. He's not sure what happens now. Sure he's got plenty of experience in the art of sex, but he's a Sam-virgin and this seemed kind of awkward, because he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next. Sam, however, seems to have it under control. Like it comes naturally to him. Because now he's back in front of him stealing a deep, loving kiss as if they'd been doing it every day of their lives. Dean supposes maybe it's something he grew accustomed to in that head-dungeon/fantasy world.
And then he thinks that he can probably work with that just fine.
"You okay?" Sam asks.
Dean looks at him as if that was an odd question. "Yeah. 'course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"
"You haven't said anything," he replies.
"What did I say when we did this in your head?" Dean asks, and Sam gets a hurt look on his face, and Dean feels like a dick. "I didn't mean it in a bad way," he amends. "I'm just curious. This is...ya know, it's kinda new for me."
"It's kinda new for me too, Dean," Sam defends. "Just because I...imagined things a certain way, doesn't mean I know all about what's supposed to happen now."
"Well, I'm not sure, either, which is why I was asking. I figure maybe it'd clue me in, 'cause I'm feeling kinda lost for words right now."
"You could start by telling me whether or not that it was okay," Sam said quietly.
"What we just did?" Dean asked. "That was pretty damn okay to me. How about for you?"
Sam grinned at him. "Yeah."
"Well good. There's a start," he said as he pushed up from the wall. He watched Sam try and fail to stifle a yawn. "Ya know, we're both probably beat. So...why don't we get some shuteye, and we can talk about all the insanely stupid crap we've done since we've been apart?"
Sam looked at him with a surprised expression. "Really?"
"Yeah. I can get Cas to go and wait for Crowley to get back. Hopefully we'll have at least the day."
"For real?"
"For real," Dean smiles sideways at him. "Gimme ten, okay?" Sam nods at him, but what was meant behind those words suddenly dawned on him, and as soon as Dean turned to head up the staircase leading to the door, Sam was off toward his bedroom.
Once Dean returned, thanking the angel for sticking his nose where it didn't belong and making him promise never to do it again, he headed towards his bedroom.
"Sam?" he shouted in question, looking inside his vacant room. "Where's my bed?" he asked as he then made his way to Sam's. Once he reached the door to his younger brother's room, he realized that Sam had managed to move the entire thing into his room, the bed slotting up next to his to create one fairly large bed.
"I know you like having your own room and all, and if you want I can put this back. But I thought...maybe just for tonight?"
Dean shucked off his boots as he appraised his brother sprawled out on one side of the bed. He smiled as he let his jeans drop to the floor, leaving him in just his boxers, before he climbed in on the other side. Sam seemed to relax at this and started to make himself more comfortable.
Then Dean turned out the light and rolled over closer to Sam, pulling him back against him. "I know you're technically bigger, but I am so not the little spoon," he told him, grinning into his shoulder.
Sam smiled and sank back into the warmth that was Dean.
And it didn't matter that everything in the world around them was falling apart. Wasn't it always?
None of that mattered, because Dean loved Sam, and Sammy loved Dean, and that's all that really ever mattered anyway.
~End.