Story Title: Wanting
Story Type: Slash
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Rating: PG-13/NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Spoilers: Let's just say the whole series, to be on the safe side.
Series: None
Disclaimer: You can add these two to the list of guys who definitely don't belong to me. I can keep hoping, but it's not looking good, to be honest.
Warnings: Slash, language, Wincest
A/N: This is for messyjessy08 -hope you like it, hun. I tried to fill the prompt you gave me, but, well, this is what I got instead. My bad. It's the first time I've ever written Wincest, so don't kill me if it came out all sucky and what not.
A/N2: Jesus, I'm writing all over the fandom landscape lately, ainna?
Dean wasn't a stranger to wanting something unattainable; when he was still a kid -even by his dad's dubious standards- he had often found himself wanting his family back together again, normal and whole. As he got older, the only thing he wanted was for Sammy to stay safe. And after Sam left to go to college, all he wanted was his little brother back but Dean left him where he was because it was the only way he would be safe and Dean had always wanted that above everything else. And if a piece of himself died and if he threw himself into hunting and started courting death even more so then the usual hunter did, well, Dean wasn't going to tell anyone and there was no one left who knew him well enough to see the death wish in his every move.
And when he had to go get Sam and drag him, kicking and screaming, back into the life he had left behind, Dean knew he would never be able to let him go again.
Dean had no idea when the usual older brother protectiveness had turned into this dark, consuming mass of desire and shame. All Dean knew was that one day he had woken up, looked across the hotel room in time to see Sam come out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, and the flood of desire pooling in his stomach was neither surprising nor new, and he knew this want was as hopeless as all the others he'd had his whole life.
Dean started keeping more to himself after that; the last thing he wanted was to give Sam a reason to run away from him. He distanced himself, bit by bit, until he barely even looked at his brother while they were talking or hanging out. The only time he indulged himself and watched Sam like a hawk was when they were in the middle of a hunt -no matter what other twisted feelings he had for his little brother, Dean had been guarding and protecting Sam since before Sam even knew how to crawl. It's like breathing to him; he does it unconsciously and constantly -and he would die if he stopped doing either one.
Sam noticed, of course -despite all the eye rolling and bitching Dean liked to do, he knew exactly how intelligent Sam was; he was fiercely proud of it even though it had taken Sam away from him in the first place.
So, it wasn't Sam noticing that surprised Dean, it was that Sam kept asking him about it; kept pushing him to go back to the way they used to be and Dean could feel himself unraveling. He knew it was only a matter of time before something broke and Sam found out the truth, but still Dean fought against the inevitable the way he always did.
When it finally happened, it started out the same way Dean thought it would.
"What the hell is your problem, Dean?" Sam fumed as they walked back into the hotel room.
"Just drop it, Sammy," Dean told him, his voice weary. "I'm going to bed."
"No, Dean, I won't," Sam seethed, his eyes flashing with a temper he very rarely let loose.
"You fucken ignore me for hours on end, pretending to be sleeping when we're at a motel, blasting music in the Impala loud enough to give you a headache," he went on, getting in front of Dean and blocking his path to the bathroom.
"I want to know what your fucken problem is," Sam finished.
"My problem, Sammy?" Dean snarled, his temper suddenly snapping. He shoved Sam and sent him stumbling back a few steps.
"My fucken problem is that every time I look at you, I don't see my baby brother any more; I don't see the tiny baby that took his first steps while I was watching, I don't see that annoying kid who used to follow me around and demand I check his closet for monsters every night.
"I don't even see that gangly as fuck teenager who always had his head stuck in a book and was too busy reading to screw everything with a pulse like I did.
"No, when I look at you now, all I see are those legs of yours -they go on for fucken miles and I can't help imagining them wrapped around my waist while I fuck you into next week.
"All I can picture is pushing you back against the wall and dropping to my knees in front of you.
"Do you understand now, Sammy? I see that in my head every time I look at you and I want it so bad I can fucken taste it; I want to pin you in between me and the nearest hard surface and not let you up for hours.
"It's all I can do to control myself around you, so you need to get the fuck out of my face and stay out of it before I do something neither one of us can live with."
Dean couldn't drag his eyes away from his brother, no matter how much he wanted to; they stared at each other until it felt like he was going to choke on the tension.
"Jesus, Dean, don't you get it?" Sam said, smirking as he slowly moved closer.
"You're the only constant I've ever had in my life; the only one I've ever wanted. Whatever I needed you to be, you were. Father, brother, friend. My whole life, you were there -and it scared the fuck out of me when I wanted to add something else to that list.
"That's why I left; I had to get away from that feeling, that feeling that the only person I've ever wanted was my brother -it was wrong. More, it was wrong because it didn't feel wrong; it felt everything except wrong to want you that way.
"I ran as far as I could, both geographically and metaphorically. By the time you showed up again, I knew I was never going to be happy with Jess, with being normal. I knew it, but I couldn't bring myself to admit I was being unfair to either of us.
"It took me a long time to work through all the guilt and realize that what I wanted was never going to change and the fact that I didn't want it to change was something else I had to deal with."
During his whole speech Sam had managed to back Dean up against the wall and kept his eyes focused on his brother's.
"You..." Dean managed to spit out before he pulled Sam closer and crushed their mouths together. "Me. Us. Always."
"Yes," Sam hissed in agreement and pulled far enough away from Dean's mouth to bite his neck. "No matter what, it was always you."
Dean couldn't help the needy noise that he made, low in his throat, as he manhandled Sam onto the bed.
Later on, Dean curled around Sam, sated and exhausted, but happier then he had been in years. Maybe getting what you wanted wasn't always as hard as it seemed.