A/N Just to let readers know, this is the last Home story I have mapped out. The big reveal at the end of Candle is the last ah-ha thought I had about my boys so I'll be waiting for inspiration to strike before I add more.

Chapter Two

They spent a lazy Sunday together, Tim on his laptop, Sam reading. In the afternoon, Tim decided to share what he'd been researching, although he wasn't reassured. 'Bottom shame' appeared to be common. He wasn't able to come up with any good suggestions for dealing with it. Being one another's only exception to heterosexuality only complicated their situation. He determined to continue his research but began to suspect they'd be better off dealing with their unique situation on their own.

"Sam?" Tim said quietly. He immediately put his book aside and Tim smiled. "I, uh, was hoping we could talk about, um, well, about how you feel..."

"Spit it out, Tim. No secrets."

"Oh-kay," Tim took a deep breath and blew it out. "It's sometimes referred to as 'bottom shame'. I think if we're open about it, it might help."

Sam set his jaw and looked away.

"Have you thought about...why you feel this way?" Tim asked tentatively. "The masculine and feminine archetypes-"

"Tim," Sam interrupted. "I..." He almost denied wanting to talk about the topic and was shocked at himself. He'd always been the one who kept his heart on his sleeve."How did I somehow become the one who doesn't want to talk about his feelings?"

"You mean, like Dean?" Tim knew Sam's older brother was the masculine stereotype, reticent to talk about feelings unless the situation was extreme.

Sam shook his head but spoke in agreement. "Yeah."

"Because he's the man's man like your dad?" Tim answered, then realized the question had probably been rhetorical. Sam's head turned and he stared hard at Tim. Tim simply raised his eyebrows and waited.

"Shit. That's actually... Did you plan this?" Sam's mind whirled with his Freudian slip.

"N-no... Plan what?"

"I'm acting more like my dad because it's reactionary to my insecurity about...bottoming."

"That's good!"

Sam frowned. What the hell was good about feeling crappy about his sex life?

"The awareness, Sam, not the reacting and insecurity," Tim quickly clarified. Sam nodded, sighing.

"You were asking if I've thought about why I feel insecure."

Tim nodded. Sam was a very self-aware person, and if he could apply that way of thinking to this problem, Tim knew they'd get through this.

"Growing up in an almost exclusively male environment, all very masculine men, it makes sense that I'm sensitive to the perception of myself being, or rather, not being, the... I don't even have the vocabulary for this, Tim," Sam finished, frustrated.

"Well, I - I've been studying up, actually."

Sam smiled. "Of course you have." He took Tim's hand and held it. "Awareness, huh? Yeah, that's always the first step, right?"

Tim nodded. "It's more common in African American men, since the culture encourages the extremely masculine archetype."

"I've always been...protected. I mean, Dean and my dad taught me to protect myself from an early age, but I'm the youngest. I know I told you a long time ago that I didn't just want to be a hunter; that I didn't feel like I fit in, I was a freak." Tim nodded, his heart aching with the recollection of little Sam, 12 years old, saying those things to him. It had created a sense of solidarity between them, since he had always felt like the outsider as well. "When...when Dean came back from hell... He didn't seem like - well, he'd been through more than I could imagine at the time. I thought I knew what we needed to do, and I became totally certain Dean wasn't strong enough to do it. I had to be the strong one." Sam took a deep breath. "There's... There's something that wasn't in the Supernatural books." Sam rarely spoke of the novels the prophet Chuck had written chronicling the brothers' lives, baring secrets neither ever wanted known, let alone published for mass consumption.

Realization dawned in Tim. He'd spent a lot of time looking through the books, as well as researching the events of the near apocolyptic struggles the world had gone through and contemplating what he knew of Sam. He'd put the pieces together and deduced that Sam had gained super-powers through consuming demon blood, and addiction which he'd had to revisit and overcome more than once. "The demon blood. The addiction."

"What?! How did you-"

Tim squeezed Sam's hand. "It's okay, Sam. I know. Tell me how it applies to this?"

Sam stared at Tim, and decided to talk about that particular revelation later. Or not. If Tim knew he'd nearly become a demon himself by drinking demon blood back when they'd been trying to stop the apocolypse, and Tim still loved him, still wanted him, that was really all Sam needed to know.

"I thought a lot about why I did what I did, after. It started just from desperation, while Dean was, uh, gone, but when he was back, I...I guess I felt like I had something to prove. So, yeah, I guess, some insecurity there."

"Are you afraid Dean will find out you're a bottom and judge you?"

"Dean..." Sam ran his hand over his face. "I can't even imagine his reaction..." His stomach twisted at the thought. Tim put his arm around him.

"He doesn't have to, Sam. When I met him and told him we were switch-hitters, it was to gross him out and get him to back off. I don't think he ever thought about what that meant. I don't care if we keep this completely between us. I just want you to be okay with it. I want you happy and confident with me. But I am uncertain you can get there if you still feel like you have to hide. I know that sounds like a contradiction, but..."

"No, baby, I get it," Sam leaned into Tim. "What did your research say about being...okay with - bottoming?"

"Just that it's sexually confident men who are confident bottoms."

Sam's mouth twitched in amusement. "Hmm. More...practice, then? Gain confidence by...doing," he suggested. Tim had to smile at that.

"For both of us. Yesterday, in the bathroom...I want to be confident with you, too, Sam."

"You're...awesome, Tim. You, well, you make it all so good..."

Tim shrugged. "Let's just agree it's good, together."

"Best sex of my life."

"God, yes!"

"You know, something I really love is when you get authoritative. It's so hot," Sam said. Tim laughed and rolled his eyes. Sam leaned closer and got serious. "Dude, I mean it," he said. "Maybe sometime you could...be more like that in there," he nodded his head toward the bedroom.

Tim's eyebrows rose. "What, roleplaying?" Unconsciously he was shaking his head in a negative.

"No, uh-uh - "

"Good, 'cause I need you to know that I have absolutely no interest in having sex with anyone but you, even pretending, and I hope that you - "

"Baby, no. I am yours. Just yours."

Tim relaxed. "As long as that's clear...what did you have in mind?" Now he was curious what Sam would propose.

Sam smiled. "Um, well, the whole 'I'm yours'. You seem to...like that idea, the...possessiveness of that," he began. Tim nodded. "You say that I - top from the bottom - "

"I don't mind, Sam - "

"Shut up, man, this is hard to say so stop interrupting me."

Tim nodded again, biting his lip to remind himself to stay quiet. Sam's eyes drifted to the bitten lip and stayed there a few beats too long before he shook himself and looked back up to Tim's eyes.

"This...this would still be us, just...with more like you are when you're having to be...forceful, dealing with - "

Tim couldn't stop himself. "Is this a rape fantasy? Because I would never - "

"Hell no! Tim, will you let me finish? I said it's still us and I know you don't have that in you. I..." Sam wasn't sure he should continue. Tim waited, eyes wide, though, and the anxiety Sam saw in them wasn't something he could leave hanging. "I want you to take charge sometime. That's all."

"Just...take charge."

"Yeah."

"Be authoritative and forceful."

"Yeah. Look, I don't want you to think I'm some kind of submissive for you to dominate and discipline or whatever. Don't think I'm...Tim, I just...I want you to make me yours, the way, uh, the way you sometimes get, right at the end, you know?" Sam's face was brick red and there was such a shadow of uncertainty and fear in his face that Tim put his arms around Sam and pulled him close. Sam gratefully hugged Tim, the warmth and safety he always felt when Tim held him filling him. "You don't have to do it right now, just sometime, I'd like it, okay?" Sam said quietly.

"Would it spoil the concept if I said yes because I'd do anything for you?" Tim asked uncertainly.

"No. I love you, Tim."

"Oh, Sam. I love you, too."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

That evening, after Tim had taken time to contemplate Sam's request that he be more authoritative in bed, he decided to try. They were on the sofa, and the program they'd watched, streaming, on Tim's laptop had just finished. Tim closed the computer and handed it to Sam, gesturing he should set it aside. Sam did, then started to settle back against the leather of the couch.

"Talk to me, Sam," Tim said. Sam glanced over inquisitively and froze. He could see the look in Tim's eyes, the blue-green irises leveled at Sam, calculating, and an internal tremor ran through him from the back of his throat into his chest.

"Anything specifically?" Sam asked. His voice was deep, down in his lower register, and Tim saw that Sam's chest was rising and falling quickly. He let himself smile slightly as he tilted his head and studied Sam, trying to be casual but frankly appraising the attractiveness of his partner.

"Why...me," Tim replied. "Why only me."

Sam's mind whirled. This was his game, his suggestion, but the whole point was to follow wherever Tim led.

"We're a perfect fit. Your key, my lock," Sam rumbled. Tim raised one eyebrow. "First, and only, baby." Now Tim gave a head tilt, obviously unsatisfied with the response. Sam thought furiously. "When you touch me, with the tiniest part of a finger or a brush of shoulder, I can feel it straight through me. Just the heat of you beside me, or...behind me. It's a recognition, a resonance. You." Sam's eyes nearly glowed with intensity. "Only you."

Tim swallowed. The words affected him so emotionally, he wanted to weep. But this was about showing his own mettle.

"Close your eyes," Tim ordered. A faint smile graced Sam's lips as he complied. He waited, barely breathing, and the smile grew as he felt heat on his hyper sensitized cheek. He turned his head slightly as if to sun through a window. Tim kept his hand an inch from Sam's skin. He ached with longing at the sweet reaction. "Take your shirt off," Tim said roughly, clearing his throat. "Keep 'em shut."

Tim leaned back and watched Sam peel the t-shirt off. The tan skin of his shoulders and back shifted over his hard muscles, and Tim's belly tightened at the sight. Sam dropped the shirt on the floor and sat back with his hands resting lightly on his thighs. Tim slowly leaned in and let his breath skim Sam's shoulder. Sam smiled. Tim huffed breath across Sam's body, aiming for nipple and pecs. Goosebumps raised his flesh, and Sam's smile grew to a grin.

"Keep talking. More...basely," Tim ordered.

Sam licked his lips. "It's electric, thinking of having you inside me."

"Why me?"

"I don't even see other men that way, only you. I'd never want anyone else to touch me like you do," Sam immediately responded, trying to reassure. Tim frowned. It wasn't what he'd been going for.

"But why me? You enjoy it..."

"No one else, Tim, ever," Sam was frowning, worried. Tim sighed and climbed onto Sam, straddling him.

"Open your eyes," Tim commanded. Sam obeyed, and the worry Tim saw there was heartbreaking.

"I was going for more sexual detail. I know you aren't interested in other men, and I trust you completely."

Understanding and relief flooded Sam, followed by embarrassment. "Oh, man, did I spoil it?"

Tim chuckled, then pulled a serious face. "Only if you don't start talking dirty - right now." He pursed his lips and raised a brow. "Why me?" He demanded.

Sam flashed a quick smile then grew serious. "Because you're everything to me. I told you, your nearness is like...the radiant heat of a campfire in the cold. Then your touch starts a fire within me. There's only one way to quench it. You. Inside me, thick and hot. Pushing deep, making me feel like you're everywhere and everything. I feel you so far into me it's like you're massaging my heart, keeping it beating, like it would stop if you weren't there. My entire existence wraps around you, and nothing else matters while you're pumping inside me. Then when you come..." Sam groaned, his hips thrusting up against Tim. "It's..." Sam's eyes rolled up in ecstasy. "Oh god, it's the best feeling in the world. I feel you swell and throb and it's like the heartbeat of the universe, within me, stars exploding, supernovas, and I know it's your come filling me, and those moments we're...suspended in time. We're together, complete, incoherent but inseparable." Sam's eyes burned into Tim's, fire smoldering in the green depths.

Tim was trembling, mesmerized by Sam's eyes and words. His jaw had dropped open, but when Sam stopped speaking, it snapped shut and he smashed his lips onto Sam's. He kissed bruisingly hard, forcing Sam's mouth open with his tongue, needing to penetrate Sam and having only this easily accessible.

Sam accepted, drawing the rough, violating tongue into his mouth, massaging it like he would during fellatio. He was wildly aroused by Tim's forcefulnes and wanted more.

Sam's surrender to Tim's attack only served to fan the conflagration his words had ignited. He grabbed Sam's face between his hands, holding him tight, repeatedly shoving his tongue into Sam's mouth. Sam wrapped his arms around Tim's waist and moaned into his assault.

Recalling his plan vaguely, Tim slid one hand back into Sam's hair and took a firm grasp on the roots at the base of Sam's skull. Tightening his grip, he pulled, forcing Sam to break the kiss and lean back. They stared into each other's eyes, breathing hard. Tim stood, confident Sam would release his grip on Tim's torso, which he did, reluctantly. Tim looked down at Sam, lips swollen and moist. He nodded.

"Take my dick out," Tim said, his voice low and coarse. He relaxed his grip on Sam's hair slightly. Sam unfastened Tim's pants and freed the throbbing erection. Pre-come glistened at the tip, and Sam wanted nothing more than to lick it. Tim's fingers tightened. Sam looked up at him. "Take it deep. Keep looking at me while you do it." Sam shuddered and eagerly leaned forward. The full warmth and sharp scent were blissfully familiar as Sam sucked Tim's cock into his mouth and angled to deep throat it. The eye contact was difficult; Sam was inclined to close his eyes in concentration, but he followed Tim's instructions and kept his trained up. Tim gritted his teeth and hissed at the sensation. He held Sam's head with his dick buried fully in the heavenly mouth. Understanding filled Sam's eyes and he worked his tongue against the shaft, swallowing, massaging every way he could. Tim groaned and pulled Sam's hair, withdrawing Sam's mouth, then pushed him back into the position he'd been in. Sam's eyes grew darker as his pupils dilated in his desire at Tim totally controlling everything, including his breath. Tim used his hold on Sam's head to set the pace, holding himself fully encompassed for long seconds with each deep throat. He was shuddering and knew he wouldn't last long this way.

Firmly tugging Sam off of his dick, Tim then drew the tall man to his feet and kissed him again. Sam crushed Tim in an embrace, and Tim released the handle hold on Sam's head, gripping the powerfully muscled body to himself as they kissed.

Eventually, Tim broke away and pointed to the bedroom. Sam went eagerly before him. Tim left his own clothes in the living room and grabbed a jar from the kitchen then he followed, closing the door behind himself.

Sam stood waiting at the foot of the bed, smiling. When he saw Tim's nudity, it became a grin. Tim smiled back, shaking his head slightly.

"Having fun?" Tim asked.

"Oh, yeah. I'm ready for anything."

Tim laughed. "I hope so..." He held up the jar of coconut oil. "Strip."

Sam's look was anticipatory but he unbuttoned his jeans slowly, thrilled at seeing Tim's reaction to it. Tim seemed positively enthralled with the simple act, and Sam languidly slid the cloth over his hips, freeing his erection, and bent over to pull his pants off. He heard Tim gasp shakily and looked at him from behind the curtain of his hair, remaining folded over, his ass high. Tim's free hand was balled into a fist. It relaxed, and the tension drained from Tim.

"Stand up, Sam."

When Sam stood, Tim approached.

"I've told you how much I love your body, how amazing it is, and I want to touch you, everywhere. You're my Adonis. Mine. You're going to look even more god-like when I'm done," Tim informed him. Sam looked into his lover's eyes.

"Yours," Sam breathed, and waited.

Tim opened the jar and warmed some of the oil in his hands then set the jar aside. He grinned a little self-consciously as he reached out and stroked his hands across Sam's chest. He stepped around behind Sam and rubbed oil all over the glorious expanse of Sam's back. Moving back around to the front, he worked to coat the near side of him. Sam sighed at the sensation of Tim's sensitive fingers as they glided across his pecs, down his abs, up his sides. Watching Tim's face as he touched Sam was almost as pleasurable as what Tim was doing. Tim's lips were parted and Sam could just see the tip of his tongue against his top front teeth. Tim seemed to be nearly panting as he rubbed the oil into Sam's skin. Tim got more of the oil on his hands and continued further down; hips, pelvis, and finally, the massive throbbing penis.

Sam threw back his head and cried out as Tim slid his hands up the shaft, rubbing across the head and back down again. Tim's left hand continued stroking, and his right went down to gently roll Sam's balls in his hand. Sam was trembling and put a hand on Tim to steady himself.

"Tim! Oh god, oh god that feels so good, oh baby..." Words devolved into moans when Tim dropped down and slid his hand further back. Sam widened his stance to give access and moaned louder when Tim's fingers caressed past his perineum and stroked against his hole. Tim kept the hand job slow but felt how Sam's dick jumped at the pressure from behind. He didn't enter him, but teased, gliding back and forth across the ring of flesh until Sam was nearly gibbering.

"Oh-Ti-I-you-oh, ah! God! Need-babe-ugh, fuck! Tim! Oh, oh!"

The unintelligible words were like music to Tim. He kept on until Sam's voice rose in pitch, warning him. Tim slowed, then stopped. Sam was quaking, and Tim stood to hold him tightly. When the shaking subsided, Tim moved them over to the door and turned Sam to face it.

"Brace yourself against it," Tim commanded. Sam did, gripping the frame. Tim retrieved the oil and re-lubed his hands, massaging Sam's hips and glutes. Then he slid his fingers down between and Sam groaned and arched his back, spreading his legs in anticipation. The purity of Sam's physical offering nearly brought Tim to his knees.

"Oh, Sam," he sighed. He continued to massage Sam's ass, kneading the muscles, reveling when he flexed and then relaxed. His own dick was hard and drooling, but he drew the anticipation out. He started brushing his fingers over Sam's opening again.

"Ah! Tim, please! God, please, please, I need you! Please, Tim, ah, baby, please..." Sam begged.

"Not yet, Sam, not yet," Tim crooned. Sam jerked at the sound of Tim's voice, then growled his frustration at the words.

Tim oiled Sam's legs, and from where he knelt, ran his hands back up the slick flesh and spread Sam's cheeks apart. Sam froze, muscles locked, and Tim leaned in. He ran his tongue up the glistening crease and Sam shouted and dropped forward further, his head resting on the door. Tim zeroed in on Sam's hole and tongued it hard, forcing it open. Sam cried out again, a choking sob of Tim's name. Tim worked the area with his mouth, shaken by the reaction from Sam and throbbing with his own need. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer. He stood and paused only an instant before sliding home. The pressure, finally, the friction and heat were powerfully intense, and panting, he had to pause or come right then.

"Yes! Yes! Tim!" Sam roared, his back arching. Tim ran his hand up and down Sam's side, the other going up to his shoulder and gripping there, holding Sam in position, stroking Sam's neck with his thumb.

"Oh, my beautiful Adonis, Sam, so perfect, mine, all mine..." Tim moaned. Sam shuddered.

"Yes, baby, yours, always yours, oh, oh, Tim, Tim! Please, please," Sam shifted, trying to move to get Tim to thrust. Tim slapped Sam's hip and Sam jumped.

"Wait. You wait," Tim snapped sharply. Sam stilled, breathing hard, nearly crying with need. Tim bent forward, putting his face up by Sam's neck. "You're so hot, I'm ready to come. Wait, my sweet Sam, so I can fuck you the way I want to." Sam groaned and nodded. Tim slid his hand up to stroke Sam's hair, soothing, then put both hands on the broad shoulders. He shook with restraint, biting his lip as he slowly pulled out and back in.

"Yes, yes!" Sam cried. Tim started moving, choosing short double strokes, staying deep inside Sam, mimicking the heartbeat Sam had referenced before. Sam was gasping and sobbing in response.

"Feel it, Sam, feel me deep, I'll always be here, inside you, only me - you're mine, mine..." Tim muttered. That possessiveness spurred him on and he started thrusting harder, faster, no longer doubling, just smashing into Sam, looking down at the gorgeous back, the light catching on the oil, emphasizing every ridge and crease as Sam's muscles tightened and relaxed in time with Tim's rhythm. "Sam, fuck, my Sam! So perfect, god, so beautiful, oh, oh, Sam!"

"Tim! Yes, take me, fuck me, I'm yours! Yours!" Sam shook and writhed, the feeling of total connectedness overwhelming him. Eyes tightly closed, his entire focus was on Tim; his hands locked tight on his shoulders, his thighs and hips slapping against his own, and of course, his cock, reaching into Sam, touching his very soul.

"Mine, Sam, mine! Mine! Mine!" Tim cried, slamming into him, leaning forward, biting Sam's shoulder, calling to Sam, face pressed against Sam's back, thrusting, thrusting, thrusting. "Sam! Sam! Sam!" Tim felt come boiling up from the soles of his feet, twisting in his gut. "Gonna stop time, Sam! Gonna come, gonna fucking come!"

"Yes! Now! Now! Nowww!" Sam howled, clenching tight, lights exploding behind his closed lids when Tim's powerful spurts started inside him. That most beloved sensation sent his own climax erupting from his balls; hard, jetting streams of come splattering the door and floor.

Tim screamed hoarsely, utterly transported, fusing, melting, the astronomical orgasm whiting out his vision, stealing strength from his legs and arms. His entire world was Sam, both their orgasms coupling to unimaginable heights together.

They collapsed in a heap, legs giving out, sagging together to the floor, entangled, gasping, still moaning one another's names.

Sam's weight was heavy on Tim's legs, and the big man twisted strangely to turn and curl against Tim's chest, head tucked beneath Tim's chin. Tim brought his tingling arms up around Sam and held him lightly.

"Oh, Sam, my Sam, you're everything to me. My whole world," Tim whispered, tears in his eyes.

"I've never felt so precious to someone, baby. You..." Tears choked Sam's words off. "I love you, Tim," he said finally, burying his face more completely against Tim's chest. This was it. Everything Sam wanted, distilled to one short instant. He closed his eyes and tried to memorize it.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam went and got Jethro, Tim's dog, from the kennel on Monday while Tim was at work. He was thankful the dog seemed to remember him, and they went for a long walk, allowing Sam to explore the neighborhood. Sam found himself again enjoying the dynamic, vital feel of the city, and a quiet excitement grew in him as it began to settle into his mind that he had actually been granted another desire he'd had for as long as he could remember: a home. This area, these streets, the smells, the traffic... It was all part of having a normal, stable life and home. He sank onto a bench in a park near a playground. Jethro lay down at his feet, and Sam absently reached down to scratch and pet the dog. The activity seemed to anchor him, making the moment more real. He stared around in wonder and had to swallow hard several times as emotion rose and subsided in him. He wanted to share it with Tim, so he took a picture of Jethro and himself on the bench and sent it with a text message:

S-Your boys, loving the neighborhood-

That done, Sam finally rose and continued his walk. His phone buzzed with a response just as he turned back up the street the apartment was on.

T-Aw. I cant wait to get home...-

Back at the apartment, he sorted his clothes and books carefully where they had been quickly tucked into place the night he moved in. He admired the clever hidden panel in the closet and added a few hooks and a small shelf within the compartment, organizing the ammunition, oddments and ingredients he had brought along. Looking through what he had, he made a mental list of a few more things which could be helpful in the more common hunting situations. He felt a bit bare having only this small assortment of supplies to hand, but he tried to reason with himself that he wasn't actively hunting full-time anymore, so the more obscure items were better served staying with Dean.

Thinking of his brother, Sam sighed and replaced the door, making sure the hidden catch was secure and drawing Tim's sport coats and suit jackets back to conceal it. He pulled his phone out and dialed.

"Yeah?" Dean growled.

"Hi."

"What's up, Sammy? You okay?"

"Yeah, I just... I was thinkin' about you. How's it going? You seen Cas?"

"Na, man, not since...not since that demon witch thing."

"You should talk to him, Dean."

"Don't tell me what to do, dude. I'm on a job, okay?"

"Alone, or..."

"Benny's with me."

"Good. That's...good."

"I'm on the road, man. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay. Bye, Dean."

"Bye."

Frustrated and saddened, Sam spent an hour and a half working out hard, then showered. Looking at his reflection, he contemplated his facial hair. His mouth quirked into a smile at the thought of Tim's reactions to the rough hair. Then his mind wandered to all the men in his life who had had beards: Chuck and Bobby, with the shagginess of "who cares?", kind Pastor Jim with the short goatee, his dad, whose facial hair had come and gone in varying lengths over the years. Rubbing his hand across the scruff, Sam decided he'd just clean up the patchiness and wait to get Tim's opinion. He carefully shaved the ragged edges so the lines of hair were clean, then shrugged and went to get dressed.

With no pressing case, Tim was able to leave work on time and he let Sam know he was bringing dinner. A restaurant Abby had taken him to had a great Cobb salad he was sure Sam would enjoy. His grilled chicken with rice and mixed vegetables rounded out the order and he hurried home.

Tim brought the mail in on his way up to the apartment. Seeing a blank envelope and feeling the hard rectangle inside, he smiled nervously. He hoped Sam would understand what he'd done.

After dinner, Tim handed the card to Sam without preamble.

Sam stared at the credit card, embossed with his name. He knew it was from Tim's account, and his feelings were a jumble. He was adverse to the thought of mooching off Tim. He was thrilled Tim wanted to be linked to him this way. His childhood training of living under the radar with stolen names screamed at him to shred the thing and run. He worried what Dean would say.

"Sam, I know this is big, and I should have talked to you first, but I knew it would upset you, and this is the way it needs to be if we're going forward together. Everything between us has to be on the up and up - "

"I know, it's just...if I still have to hunt when Dean needs me, how can I be this - " he waved the card. " - upstanding citizen, too?"

The adorable boyish smile Sam loved so much emerged from Tim's worried expression. "Secret identity?"

Sam chuckled but his stomach was still in knots. He turned away, looking out the window, his frown returning. Tim came up behind him and encircled his waist with his arms, putting his chin on Sam's shoulder.

"If you wanted, I'd drop everything and live off the grid and become a hunter with you. You're the most important thing in my life, Sam. But that's not what you want, and we both know it. We need to firmly establish your real identity in the real world...with judicious editing. Are you ready for that?"

Sam covered Tim's hands with his own, drawing them closer.

"Out of the shadows?" He sighed. "You're my light, Tim. Always have been. Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready."

Tim closed his eyes and held tight.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

T-caught case. Missing person. May not be home for day or so. Will txt when I can-

Sam had paused in his workout when his phone buzzed. He read the text and nodded, then went back to his push-ups.

By eight that night, Sam suspected Tim was right that he wouldn't be home. He ate dinner alone, read for several hours, then went to bed where he tossed restlessly.

T-having to clean up re-used vhs vid: stone age tech. Miss u-

The text woke Sam at quarter to two in the morning. He blearily responded, not bothering to edit.

S-miss u too. Bed too big & cild w/o u. May invit Jethro up if u dont make it hm tomorrw nite. ;-)-

Wednesday Sam took Jethro for his mid-morning hour long walk and his heart jumped when his phone rang with Tim on the I.D.

"Hey, baby," Sam answered.

"Hi, Sam," Tim's voice was rough and he sounded exhausted. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Tim sighed. He was walking to the nearby coffee shop for more fuel for the team and finally had a moment to call. "Probably, but nothing you're allowed to do. It's looking like this is a hate crime case, and it's just..." He sighed again. "I don't know. I'm not gay, we aren't, but I still feel... It feels close. And disturbing. It makes me want to hold you," Tim finished with a whisper.

Sam swallowed hard. "Tim, it's okay. I'm fine, I'm safe. You just keep working and catch the bad guy. Then come home to me."

Tim drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out, feeling better for having heard Sam's voice as well as received his assurances. "Okay. Will do. I love you," Tim moved to get in line in the shop.

"I love you, too, baby. Be safe."

They disconnected.

Sam felt his heart pumping fast, an adrenalin surge from his concern for Tim. He wanted to run all the way to the Navy Yard and throw himself bodily between Tim and any possible danger. In his mind he understood that Tim was as safe as he could be with the job he had, but his heart's every beat pounded a protective rhythm. He ducked into an alley and slid Jethro's leash up around his wrist, then dropped in a relatively clean spot and started doing push-ups, attempting to bleed off some of the stress hormones flooding his system. He kept going until his shoulders began to ache, then he rose.

"You up for a run, Jeth?" He asked the dog. Jethro wagged, and Sam figured he'd try a short run and watch for any discomfort in the dog. They headed for the park and made a couple of circuits around it before Sam started to feel calmer. Jethro had seemed to enjoy the run, but was obviously happy to rest when it was over. Sam found the water fountain and ran it for Jethro before drinking some himself. Then he found some shade and the two settled down. Sam still felt restless and did sit-ups for a while. He wondered how big he was likely to get if Tim had a lot of dangerous cases and shrugged mentally. Tim seemed to like him fit.

"You know exercise can be an addiction, right?"

Sam looked up at the comment. Krista, his former lover and the tattoo artist who had done Tim's anti-possession tattoo, stood looking down at him. He sat up.

"Hey, Kris," he greeted.

"You blazed past my shop, dude, I went looking for the fire!" She folded her long legs beneath her as she sank down next to him. He realized that he hadn't really been seeing where he was going when he'd run, he'd been too wrapped up in his concern for Tim. He must have sprinted past her shop without noticing.

"Sorry," he shrugged.

"You okay?" She asked. Real concern was visible even through her wild makeup and even wilder, rainbow-hued hair. He could still see the skinny, lank-haired girl he'd snuck off to make out with at age 15, then had groping, gasping sex that was over way too fast with at 16. He thought he might have hooked up with her again when he didn't have his soul, but he wasn't sure and certainly wasn't going to ask. Whatever else they'd been, through the years they'd been friends, and her reaction when he'd brought Tim in to get his tattoo had been supportive when she discovered what the relationship was between the two men, even though Sam had been uncomfortable and less than forthright. He felt he could talk to her.

"It's Tim. His job can be dangerous," Sam said. She gave a half-smile

"You're okay with danger for you but not for him."

Sam shrugged uncomfortably. She had nailed it in one.

"Is he your first guy?"

Krista had always been blunt. "First and only. For keeps. I moved in."

Her eyebrows disappeared behind her neon pink and purple bangs. "You quit hunting? Wow."

"Let's say I've gone part-time. I'll help Dean if he needs me."

"Of course. But... Going legit? Crazy."

"You run a shop."

"You know that's a front. Tats aren't the only mojo I deal in."

Sam shrugged. His mind was on Tim.

"Look, I've dated guys who were overprotective. Guys who knew how good I am with knives, who'd seen me go head on with vamps and shifters. It felt like...they didn't really know me, or didn't trust or believe in me, or something. It sucked, Sam. Don't do it."

Sam frowned and nodded. "I have to find a way to deal with it. I just...I have no idea how."

"Can he take care of himself? I didn't get a good read on him."

"Yeah," he admitted. "Yeah, he can. He's an NCIS agent, major crimes unit, has been for ten years."

"A Navy cop? Hmm. Didn't seem like the type. Less 'oo-rah', more...desk monkey." Sam bristled at what he perceived as criticism. "Hey, he looks like he never sees the sun, you gotta admit that."

Sam's memory supplied him with plenty of evidence of Tim's smooth, pale skin, and he blushed. "His name's McGee, what do you expect of Irish ancestry," he deflected.

"Well, look, babe, if he's a good cop, there's nothing you can do but be supportive. Don't make him worry about you worrying, y'know? You've gotta find something to do. Not just working out, either, or you'll end up all veiny and - ick," Krista tossed her long hair over her shoulder and sat back. "Let's see. You could Bobby, but Garth's doing some of that, too." She refered to helping other hunters in a supposrt role. "School. You did, like, pre-law, right? You could finish that; specialize in helping hunters when they get caught. Teach self-defense. You're smart, you could maybe tutor or teach something else. Work at a gun store. Work at my shop, if you want. I dunno. What appeals?"

Sam shook his head mutely. He'd been contemplating that exact issue for the last two weeks. He rose and Jethro stood with him.

"Look, you need anything, let me know, okay? I'll be around," Krista said. She climbed to her feet and slapped Sam on the bicep before sauntering off.

Sam walked back to the apartment, trying to get back to some of the joy he'd had mere days before as he watched and listened to the neighborhood. Back inside, he showered and then flopped on the bed with a novel. He read for a couple of hours but could barely recall the plot after he'd finished. He jumped when his phone buzzed.

T-missing guy's body found. :-( I'll be home around 4. Tomorrw prolly switch to murder investgn. Damn-

Sam sighed.

S-I'll be here for you. For anything-

T-thx-

Sam researched nearby restaurants and called in an order. He picked up the well-reviewed soup and rolls and then brought them back, keeping the soup warm on the stove and the rolls in the oven.

When an exhausted Tim arrived shortly after four, Sam took his bag and jacket then wrapped him up in a long hug. Tim gratefully closed his eyes and rested his head on Sam's shoulder, breathing in the scent of him, the living strength and vitality. His stomach rumbled at an additional smell and he raised his head. Sam smiled and inclined his head to the countertop. Tim moaned and hurried to sit down before the steaming bowl. Sam sat beside him and watched as he made quick work of the food, groaning appreciatively when he bit into one of the buttered rolls.

Helping Tim undress and tucking him into bed, Sam found a new aspect to himself as nurturer. He could see the request in Tim's deeply circled eyes and he pulled his clothes off and climbed under the covers. Spooning behind Tim, he held him and felt how quickly Tim relaxed and went to sleep. He lay still, peace settling over and through him, peace he only ever felt with Tim. Knowing the archangel who had brought them together was years dead, Sam still sent out a silent prayer of thanks to Gabriel. The difficulties Sam faced being in a relationship with a man were many, but he would do anything to keep it. Krista was right that he needed to find something to do rather than wait around the apartment for Tim, but the short time he'd lived here was already one of his most precious memories. Dichotomies and contradictions floated through his mind, eventually melting in a light doze.

Tim woke from a dream of struggling to find Sam in a murky, underwater location. Half seen creatures had tried to distract him from his search, and he had become desperate with the sense that time was running out. The heat of Sam pressed against him was reassuring, but Tim's pounding heart transformed his need to find into a need for more intimate contact. He turned in Sam's embrace and woke him with a sensuous kiss.

"Mmm, Tim," Sam sighed as he came to. Tim wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled him close, their bodies finding the familiar fit together, legs twined, chests sealed tight, hips moving to accommodate their growing erections. Sam slid his hand down flat against the small of Tim's back and drew him closer. At the gasp Tim gave, his big hand went lower, palming the curve of Tim's ass and kneading the pliable mound. Moaning around both their tongues in his mouth, Tim moved. As always, his mind whirled, and he wanted to keep trying to help Sam work through his difficulty embracing his preference for bottoming. He rolled Sam onto his stomach and settled between his legs. Kissing and stroking his way down Sam's beautiful back, he applied insistent pressure to the back of his thighs and Sam shifted his weight onto his knees. As Sam spread open before him, Tim bit his lip. Sam didn't understand what a powerful gift his trust in Tim was. Tim suspected Sam was more sensitive in his nether regions than most men with the extreme responses he had and his ability to come with no penis stimulation during anal sex. During Tim's research into gay sex he'd discovered Sam was uncommon, maybe even rare, in his reactions. Tim wanted badly to support Sam in overcoming his 'bottom-shame' and had decided that giving him massive amounts of stimulation and pleasure couldn't hurt that cause. Besides, Tim needed the distraction from the intensity of the case, and his own conflicted feelings of sympathy.

Running his tongue from behind Sam's balls all the way up his crack made them moan in concert. Tim assumed Sam had researched as well, since he was always meticulously clean. There was never any unpleasantness in smell or taste. The taste, in fact, was something Tim found erotic and special because it was totally, uniquely Sam. He spent long minutes licking and tonguing, listening to Sam's soft cries and curses. His own hard-on ached with his need for release, and he finally couldn't stand it any longer. He kissed his way back up to Sam's neck, brushing his long hair out of the way to nibble the area normally protected by the long strands. Sam trembled and Tim moved off of him and reached for the nightstand and the lube. He encouraged Sam to turn over. Their eyes had adjusted to the darkness and they watched each other's expressions, both completely enamored of their partner's visage. Sliding into Sam, Tim then lay heavily on his lover's chest. Breathing shallowly, they stared into each other's eyes until a shudder passed through Tim and he finally began to move. Having no leverage to thrust as they lay that way, they simply undulated together, alternating kissing with staring.

Finally, Tim felt his own need building, and Sam nodded, understanding. They shifted subtly, just enough to allow a bit more movement, and Tim took advantage of it. Their breathing quickened, and Tim watched closely as Sam's eyes fluttered closed and his head moved back and forth. The stray thought that the head shake was sub-conscious denial of his position ran through Tim's mind.

"Look at me, Sam," he ordered. Sam's eyes opened obediently and his head stopped thrashing. Tim kissed him and began moving with ecstatic purpose, struggling to keep his own gaze locked with his lover. Sam's eyes finally rolled back and his neck arced and Tim felt the wet heat between their bodies as Sam climaxed. The tightening of Sam on Tim's body made it easy for him to take two more thrusts and then come himself, eyes closed, head thrown back, Sam's name on his lips.

As Tim rested for several minutes on top of Sam, his exhaustion, barely dulled from the hour or two of sleep he'd gotten, coupling with post-coital lassitude, began to draw him back into slumber. Sam's warm hands gently held him and rolled him to one side. Sam reached over Tim for tissues and cleaned them up efficiently. Tim murmured unintelligibly but with interrogative.

"S'okay, baby. Just peeling us apart before the glue sets," Sam whispered. He kissed Tim's forehead and drew him close again, feeling Tim's breath immediately deepen as he fell back to sleep. Sam contemplated Tim's tenderness, understanding that Tim was trying to help him. His face still flushed with unpleasant feelings when he thought of Dean finding out he was a bottom, but he considered and was surprised to realize how small the number of people was whose opinion he cared about enough to be concerned over. He smiled. It was progress.

Tim woke at five the next morning. He carefully slid from under the arm Sam had draped across his waist. He started coffee, did a brief workout and got into the shower. When he came out of the bathroom, ready to grab his coffee and leave for work, Sam wasn't in bed anymore. He was out in the kitchen finishing fixing breakfast burritos. He wrapped Tim's up and set it beside the travel mug he'd already prepared.

Tim gratefully stepped into Sam's embrace, smiling ruefully as his body responded to Sam, barefoot and shirtless, pajama bottoms slung low on his hips. "Thank you," he whispered and kissed him lingeringly.

"Good luck on the case," Sam replied. Tim nodded, and with one more hug, he patted Jethro and then departed. To the closed door Sam spoke again, softly. "Be safe." Sam ate his own burrito and planned his day.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

A/N Even short reviews really make my day, folks... :-)