So I wrote this little story that popped into my mind about Sam and Dean. I hope you like it.
Constructive criticism is always welcome :)
Thanks for reading. Enjoy it.
There was light breeze blowing over the lake, rippling its dark surface ever so slightly. The Impala was parked in some abandoned parking lot, surrounded by trees. It offered a spectacular view over the lake. Dean couldn't remember the name of the lake or the town they were in right now. And to be honest he didn't even care.
The brothers were perched on the hood of the black car. Unthinkable, you might say, but Dean couldn't muster up the energy to care even about that right now. The last few weeks had been a tangle of hunts, states and towns blurring together. It was all the same anyway, fucked up spirits, wendigos, vampires. There was no distinction anymore. This was their first time in weeks that they weren't heading for the next hunt, no preparing for more monsters.
Dean liked his job, unusual as it was. But sometimes even he needed a break from all the craziness. So he was enjoying this rare moment of quietness and instead of bitching about Sam hopping up on the hood of his beloved car, he had just joined him without comment. It had earned him a raised eyebrow from Sam but nothing more.
The silence between them stretched, heavy and only broken by the sounds of the nature around them. Trees rustling in the wind, birds chirping, the soft sounds of water. But it was a comfortable silence. Dean felt content. When he closed his eyes he could feel the soft wind caressing his face. He could also feel the heat radiating of from his brother. They weren't touching but it was still there. A steady presence, pressing up to Dean's side. He could hear Sam's breathing. It was steady and deep and comforting. Dean could feel himself relaxing more and more, felt himself copying Sam's breathing patter. It felt good, being here with Sam. Right even.
Sam and Dean had always been close. Depending on each other when their father was away more often than never. They had grown up together, hunted together, lived together for as long as Dean could remember. Of course there had been Stanford. It still was a sore memory for Dean, still elicited that dull ache of pain inside his chest. But that was over now. Had been for a long time, in fact. They were back together now.
Out of nowhere it seemed, Dean had that sudden urge to touch Sam. Carefully he shuffled closer till his side was lined up Sam's. He felt his brother stiffen for a moment, but then he relaxed again, never commenting on Dean's strange behavior. Dean had never been the touchy-feely type. Even with Sammy, whom he loved like nothing else on this world. There was the occasional hug in desperate, near-death situations, a pat on the shoulder now and then. But that was where he usually drew the line. Tonight though, Dean had the irrational urge for more. He wanted to cuddle up to his not so little anymore brother, bask in his warmth, feel his chest falling and rising under his hand. He wanted to breathe in Sam's very own odor.
Just for a moment Dean pondered the nature of these thoughts. Where did they come from? Why now? Should he be freaking out about this? But as mentioned before he was tired, it had been long weeks and he just couldn't muster up the strength to care. It was Sam anyway, his brother. And cuddling was something siblings did right?
Dean shuffled around on the hood till he was laying partly on top of his brother, one hand sprawled out on Sam's chest, his head buried in the crook of Sam's neck. He felt Sam stiffen underneath him again, trying to get up. But Dean pushed him back down easily, trapping him effectively by swinging one leg over him as well.
"Dean, what the fuck are you doing?" he heard Sam asking, confusion clear in his voice.
"Just, shut up and relax, will you?" Dean muttered into his brother's neck. He thought he detected a little shudder at that but he wasn't sure. Dean was content anyway. Sammy was very warm. He inhaled deeply, taking in Sam's odor. So different from when they were still kids, forced to share a bed. But somehow still the same. Still Sam. He could feel Sam's breathing now from where his hand was splayed on his chest. Still a steady rhythm, but quicker now than before. Slowly, Dean moved his hand over Sam's chest till he could detect his brother's heartbeat. He started to mimic its beat with his thumb, felt Sam release a breath he had been holding, felt his brother's breathing quickening again. Gradually Sam relaxed, somehow melting into Dean's side. When Dean felt Sam's hand hesitantly on the small of his back he couldn't suppress a small smile.
Dean couldn't remember how long they had been lying there like this. Sam had started to stroke his back carefully some time ago and it sent warm shivers all through Dean's body. He could hear himself humming soft noises of content into Sam's neck. It made Dean feel like a girl but he didn't mind. Not when this was the most content he had felt in weeks.
And when he felt himself going hard he wasn't even half surprised. He considered breaking the embrace for a second but he couldn't do it. Was this wrong? Probably. Did it feel wrong? Not so much, at least right now. So maybe this was his brother. But they had been exceptionally close since always. And they had always been fucked up in more ways than one.
Without pondering it too long, Dean placed an open mouthed kiss on Sam's neck, letting his tongue trace the soft skin on his brother's neck. He felt Sam stiffen again, his fingers digging hard into Dean's back, his breath hitching. "Dean what the…" he started with a strangled voice but Dean shut him up effectively by sucking down hard on Sam's pulse point. Sam's whole body shuddered at that, his head falling back and a low moan escaped his lips. Dean worked his neck some more, sucking, biting, kissing. It was interesting to find out what different reactions he could elicit from Sam. At some point Dean's hand had wandered underneath Sam's shirt, his fingers tracing the taut muscles and caressing scars that he knew almost better than his own.
Slowly he let his hand wander down and down, over the waistband of Sam's jeans, feeling the buckle of his belt cool underneath his fingers. At least he could feel the outlines of Sam's cock, hard against the jeans. Felt its heat pulsing. In that exact moment though, Dean felt himself spinning around, Sam's hands on his shoulders, slamming him back first into the hood. Sam was straddling him now, pinning him down. His eyes were wild and hard.
"Do you even know what you are doing, Dean?" he asked in a rough voice.
Carefully Dean lifted his hand, cupping Sam's cheek. The stubble felt rough and unusual to Dean.
"Yeah, I do," was all Dean answered.
Sam's eyes fluttered closed, his head leaning into Dean's touch and a strangled noise escaped his lips. Then, without any warning, he was on Dean, their lips crashing together, moving against each other frantic and desperate. Dean buried his hands in Sam's soft hair, tugging softly. When their tongues touched for the first time it was like an electric jolt going through both of them. A deep moan rumbled from Dean's chest and he rolled his hips up into Sam's, feeling the friction on his cock, feeling Sam trembling and then rolling his own hips down in reciprocation. The kiss broke, foreheads resting against each other, their breaths mingling in the space between their mouths.
"Dean," Sam murmured, barely audible.
"Sammy," came the ragged answer.
With another slow kiss Dean reversed their positions again. They were both sitting now, Dean straddling Sam's lap. He started to lift his brother's shirt, inch by inch. Waiting for hands to stop him but they never came. When Sam was shirtless at last Dean pushed him back onto the Impala's hood. Then he started to explore Sam's chest with his mouth and his tongue. Sucking, licking, kissing, admiring. Sam's hands were curled into fists on his sides. He was moaning loudly now, arching into Dean's kisses. Soon Dean was placing kisses along Sam's waistband while carefully opening Sam's jeans.
"Dean I… Come back here." Sam beckoned with his hand and Dean obeyed, letting himself be pulled into another kiss. A second later Dean was shirtless as well, Sam's hands roaming along his body aimlessly. Finally they closed behind Dean's back, Sam pulling his bother flush against him and burrowing his head in the crook of Dean's neck. For a moment they were sitting there in absolute silence.
"What are we doing here, Dean?" whispered Sam at last, sending shivers down Dean's spine.
"I don't know, Sammy. Does it really matter?" rasped Dean against Sam's ear. Again he could feel his brother tensing.
"I'm not sure. But it should, shouldn't it? I mean, we are… we. This isn't supposed to happen, I think. Maybe we should stop." Sam sounded defeated, unsure and desperate, his actions betraying his words as he clung to Dean even more.
"Does it feel wrong to you, Sammy? Do you want to stop?" asked Dean quietly, somehow afraid for the answer.
There was silence. He could practically feel Sam thinking. Could feel Sam's nails digging into his skin, his grip tensing. He could feel their heartbeats mixing together like one, Sam's warm breath on his neck. Then, in what felt like hours later, Sam whispered a soft "No" and the relief that was cursing through Dean made his whole body tremble. In no time they were on each other again, kissing and touching, drowning in each other. It was exhilarating and great and everything Dean could ever wish for and so much more. He had never felt like this before.
At some point Dean entangled himself from his brother and slid of the hood. With one swift motion he pulled Sam's jeans and boxers down, his brother's cock springing free from its confines. It stood there, hard and erect, and Dean could only stare at it for a few seconds. Then his hand closed around it, Dean's thumb playing with the slit before he gave Sam's cock a few testing strokes. Sam's reaction was immediate, his head falling back, hips bucking up slightly and a soft "Dean" rolling from his lips. Without thinking about it Dean got down on his knees, tugging Sam forward till he was perched on the front of the Impala. Dean allowed himself only a brief moment of panic before he slid his tongue experimentally over Sam's cock. It tasted salty and manly and distinctly like Sam but not as bad as Dean had feared. As he engulfed Sam's cock completely into his mouth, his brother's hips bucked up, burying his cock deep in Dean's mouth. Dean had to fight his gagging reflex for a moment but soon they found a steady rhythm. He tried everything, using teeth and tongue, sucking hard on his brother's cock, then letting go almost completely. All the while he was rewarded with slow stream of "Oh yes Dean, like that. So good. More. Please Dean," while Sam was arching his back on the hood Impala and holding on to the car like his life depended on it.
Dean's own cock was throbbing as well and after he managed to pull his own trousers down, he started to stroke himself. He knew he wouldn't last long though.
"Dean I… I'm going to come," moaned Sam while frantically trying to get away from his big brother. But Dean had none of that. He pinned down Sam with one hand, stroked himself more fervently and intensified the sucking on Sam's cock. With one last, guttural "Fuck, Dean" Sam released himself into Dean's mouth. It was all Dean needed to be pushed over the edge as well.
For a moment there was silence. Only ragged breathing could be heard from the brothers, the wind rustling in the trees, the soft rippling of the water. Sam was lying on the Impala, hand draped over his eyes. Dean was still kneeling between his thighs, head leaning onto the radiator. Slowly, with each steadying breath they took, realization dawned on them. They were brothers. Still they had done… this. Whatever it was. It was definitely nothing, normal brothers did.
Slowly Dean got up and walked around to the Impala's trunk. He retrieved some handkerchiefs from his duffel and cleaned himself, then he pulled his trousers up. He went back to Sam who was still lying there, as if trying to block out reality. Dean cleaned his little brother up as well and even managed to pull his trousers up as well. Which was a feat in itself as Sam still pretended to be a lifeless sandbag.
Dean was at a loss as to what he was supposed to do. Standing between his brother's legs he started to rub soothing circles on Sam's stomach. He could feel the muscles tensing under his palm.
"Sam, dude. Look at me." Dean's voice was quite, deep. Unsure. Fear started to clench his guts. The fear of losing Sam. Again.
"And then what, Dean?" Sam's voice is barely audible.
"I need to know what's going on in that big brain of yours, Sammy. I can't do that when you are hiding from me." Dean goes for a soft, soothing tone. What he doesn't need right now is his brother to panic. "Look at me, Sammy. Please."
With a deep sigh Sam started to push himself into a sitting position. They are really close now, again. Dean's hands grab his brother's waist, his thumbs carefully caressing Sam's hipbones. When Sam finally meets Dean's eyes, his look is full of sadness, resignation and fear. Dean would like nothing more than to kiss him again but somehow he knows that this would make Sam freak out right now. So he sticks to talking.
"Tell me what you are thinking Sammy," he asks his little brother.
"I… I don't even know Dean. This is really messed up, you realize that right? I mean this… what we did just now… That's just not what brother's should do. This is a mess Dean." Sam is on the verge of a panic attack, Dean can feel it.
"I know Sam. You are right, it is a mess. But when has it ever been not a mess with us? We are a whole new level of messed up. I knew what I was doing here, I knew what it meant and I can live with that. I could live with a whole lot more like that," Dean says, allowing himself a little smirk. All it does is earn him a snort from his brother. "Serious though. We were always close, always living in each other's lap. I always knew I loved you and to be honest I wasn't even surprised to find out that I love you on more levels than strictly brotherly. So all we can really do is take this, however messed up it is, and roll with it, make it up as we go. Like we always do. And see where it leads us. Or we draw a line, right here and right now. Forget that night ever happened and go on with our lives. And if you decide in a week or two, or maybe even in a month that you can't live with me anymore, well I'll let you leave then. You decide Sammy. And I'll have your back, like always."
Dean tried very hard to keep his composure while he waited for Sam's answer. He was calm on the surface but deep inside he repeated, like a mantra 'Please don't leave, Sammy. Please don't leave. Not again.' It felt like an eternity, standing there and waiting for an answer.
Finally Sam looked at him again. "I… I wanna be with you Dean. As crazy as it sounds. I want this."
A broad smile broke out on Dean's face. He felt relieve flooding through him, filling him from head to toe. "Thank god, Sammy." And then they were kissing again. Slowly, almost chaste this time. They took more time to explore, to get to know each other on this whole new level. When they were pulling apart both were grinning madly.
"We should drive on. Find a motel, make out some more. I want a bed." Dean murmurs into Sam's lips.
"Sounds good to me."
They get dressed and in no time they are on the highway again, heading for the next town. Their hands are entangled, resting on Sam's lap.
"Dean?" Sam's voice breaks their silent bubble of bliss.
"What is it Sammy?"
"You know, I was just wondering. For someone who doesn't do chick flick moments, that was a pretty epic one back there."
"Oh shut up, bitch." Dean is only half annoyed. Sam has a point there.
"Jerk," says Sam without missing a beat.
They will never be perfect. Dean knows that. But he also knows now that this is what he wants. Maybe even wanted for some time now. And even if it should feel wrong, it doesn't. And to Dean that's the only thing that really matters in the end.