On and On
Chapter 2: Predictability

The thing about Sam was that he was predictable. He always had been. He was needy, curious, stubborn, and the love of Dean's life. Dean had expectations about him, he expected him to pursue their disastrous relationship, because well…Sam had always been the one to push it. He had been like a friggin Lolita letch when he was younger, crawling into bed with him…walking into the shower with him…doing everything possible to get him to cave until he finally had, pushing the kid up against the window of the Impala and pulling his pants down around his hips. Sam had thanked him afterwards…fucking thanked him for screwing up his entire life, and of course…that was Sam.

Dean cheated on him constantly, and Sam would always forgive him. Well if you could call what they had a relationship, which Sam did. He finally did get tired of it though, of finding Dean screwing girl after girl. Sam never even looked at another person, not until after he left for the first time. Not until Jess. They had gotten back together though, and Sam no longer let him cheat. To say that was an understatement as a matter of fact, the few times he did well, Dean hadn't been able to walk for a week.

Now though, Sam wasn't predictable. He was a nightmare. The only thing that was the same about him was his stubbornness, and hell he was just as pushy as he was before they got together. Only he wasn't the same as before. He didn't get that hurt look on his face when Dean denied him. He didn't wrinkle his nose when Dean watched porn, or frown when he ate in bed. He didn't kiss his ear every night before bed and tell him he loved him. …He wasn't his Sammy. He could pretend all he wanted, but it wasn't enough. His nose didn't wrinkle when he laughed, he didn't kiss him like he was the only thing that mattered in the entire world, and Sammy always had…Sammy was predictable.

He had slipped up. He had let this Sam kiss him, and let this Sam tell him he loved him, and that he was the only thing that mattered in the world. Now he couldn't unhear it, he couldn't take back the way Sam had slammed him against the wall and Dean had kissed him with abandon. It had been a week. A week, and he couldn't forget it. They hunted, and they ate at shitty diners, and Sam looked at him, but he hadn't touched him since. Hell, they hadn't even talked about it. They hadn't talked about it because Sam, whoever this Sam was, still knew him, and he knew it would take Dean awhile to process it. He knew that if he waited long enough, Dean would give in.

"Is your burger good?" Dean was brought out of his reprieve by his brother's voice. He had been staring at the TV for about an hour now, not really seeing, and not taking more than a bite of his food. They had just killed a skinwalker, and he was feeling a little too disturbed to eat.

"Not hungry." He grumbled, turning to look at Sam who had sunk into the bed next to him. He threw the burger back into the bag and wiped his hands. He took a swig of beer, trying to coat his nervous stomach. "And how was your day sweetheart?" He teased, immediately cursing himself at the use of the familiar taunt. …Sam would definitely take it the wrong way.

"My day was good." Sam said, lying back in the bed as he pulled out a stack of papers, if he had noticed the slip, he didn't mention it. "I think I found us a new case…maybe not an alpha, but it should be fun."

Dean scanned the papers of the recent deaths; eyes narrowing towards Sam's fake grinning face. Fake grinning face that he had cleverly began to call in his head, condescending liar face. "An Asylum?"

"Yeah…just like old times." Dean hissed when a hand came to his side, sliding up underneath his t-shirt and resting just below his ribs as Sam turned over, practically rolling on top of him. "Do you remember?"

"You shooting me full of rock salt? Yeah it rings a bell." He bit out coldly, hand trying to force the one out of his shirt. "Sam stop touching me." He tried, but the hand went further up, scraping against his stomach and coming to flick at his nipple.

"I meant the other part. I felt sooooo guilty." He hummed, rolling completely on top of him so he was straddling his waist. "I said those things to you, and I had to make it up to you." Dean inhaled, closing his eyes when lips touched his throat. "It was our first time since…"

"Since you dropped me cold and ran to your apple pie life." Dean finished, eyes opening to slits, though they didn't stay that way for long when Sam's fingers twisted and his mouth latched down against his neck. "Jesus Sam…what are you doing?" He arched up against the hand, not pushing him away, not doing anything.

"Helping you remember…I've given you a week Dean. A week and I've gotten nothing." He licked at the red patch of skin. "I can't wait forever, so I found this case, because I want it to be like the last time."

…The last time. The last time Dean had been holed up on a bed, chest sore as hell from bullet wounds, and Sam stumbling in drunk and bawling. He had crawled up to him, begging for forgiveness, telling him how much he missed him, how he only ever wanted him, how he was dying without him, and then he kissed him. …Then it was the end of the world as they knew it. Hell, they practically didn't come up for air until Dean went to hell, and then well…that had stopped him cold. He was too dirty for Sam's touch, even though Sam was really the one dirtying the relationship.

"It's not going to be like last time Sam. I'm not the same, and let's not even get started on you. The feelings aren't the same…I don't…"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence." Sam hissed, hand grabbing Dean's chin. "You love me. You've always loved me. You fucked me because you did…and then you fucked me over." His other hand came down to Dean's jeans, rubbing at the slit. "So you don't get to finish that sentence because I'm not 'your' Sam, because I'm all you have and there's no other way I can be." Sam kissed him then, and Dean let him, because the kiss was predictable, and all Sam. He didn't kiss back though, because during that entire speech he had never raised his voice, hell it hadn't even wobbled, and his Sam would be screaming, he would be crying. …He would never do this to him.

Dean opened his mouth, letting Sam's tongue in as his hand came up, threading in Sam's too long hair. His mouth tasted like coffee, which was probably ordered in some extremely gay manner, and everything that was Sam. His other hand fell to Sam's hip, using his own to maneuver them and flip them over, rolling on top of his brother.

"We're not having sex." He said, breaking away from Sam as he pushed his brother back on the bed. "We're not Sam, but we can do other things."

"Yeah?" Sam said, smiling. He reached his hands behind his head, staring up at his brother cockily. "Does that mean I get your pretty mouth on me again?" He thrust up with his hips, as if to prove just how hard up for it he was…and Jesus was he hard. Not that Dean wasn't…he just wasn't being so obnoxious about it.

"No Sam, you don't get my mouth." He rolled his eyes at Sam's pout, letting his hands travel over the cocky bastard's chest. "You could be less of a perv about this you know…it's not like this is easy for me." It wasn't, but then again when Sam touched him all thoughts flew out the window. "And I want to make a few things clear…there are rules. We haven't had sex in over a year, and it's not like we were doing it good before."

"I take insult to that…" Sam teased, thrusting up again. "I remember doing you very well before." He sat up, kissing Dean again, and he couldn't help but lean into it. "Baby, stop worrying okay? We don't need rules, we just need each other. Sam and Dean…just the two of us until the wheels of the Impala fall off." Sam popped the button to Dean's jeans, hand slipping below the waistband to grab at his cock, and Dean's head rolled back in bliss. "That's it…just let me."

"Sammy…" Dean breathed out, letting a mouth fall back to his neck as a strong hand wrapped around him. "This can't mean anything. It's just sex. I have needs, and I can get them from anywhere. I'm just choosing to get them from you."

The hand inside his pants stilled, and Sam's eyes turned a new level of cold and dead. "Excuse me?" His voice was filled with what sounded like legitimate anger, and the hand around him tightened to an almost painful grip. "Just another body…that's how you're treating this? That's how you're justifying this in your mind?"

"What did you think this was?" He tried, lying to himself in his mind. "You're not my…"

A hand came up over Dean's mouth, quieting him as Sam's eyes blazed fire. "If you say Sammy, brother, or any other thing like that I will literally tie you to this bed and whip you…and I know you'd like it cause you're a slut like that." He hissed, letting go of his mouth.

"You feel like him…hell you make 'me' feel like he does, and I'm too weak to say no to you, but just know that even though I'm hard up for it and begging you, which I probably will be, I'm thinking of him, and I'm hating myself in my mind for ever letting you touch me."

He was expecting some biting remark, or more desperate kissing, but what he wasn't expecting was the hard shove in his chest as he was pushed backwards on the bed. Sam got off, adjusting himself in his pants as he ran a hand through his hair. "You don't want to be touched by me…that's fine. I can wait…I'm a patient guy." He said, rolling his forehead as he took a deep breath. "But let's just get one thing straight," He grabbed the rest of Dean's beer, chugging it down. "You so much as let another man, woman, or vegetable breathe on you, and I'll kill them." Dean's eyes widened as Sam said that as if he were ordering a pizza, no emotion, and no caring. "And believe me Dean, I won't feel guilty about it."

"…Sam?" Dean asked, sitting up on his elbow as he stared at the almost crazed look on his brother's face. "Sam we're not a couple, and hell when we were a couple you never cared…well you did, but you looked the other way."

"Oh I cared. I hated every one of those sluts you screwed, and I hated watching you fawn over Lisa, and I absolutely loathe the way that angel looks at you, but I bit my tongue, because when I push, you reject me." He shrugged. "The old me anyways…this me doesn't care." And wasn't that just the theme of the day? "I don't care about slitting someone's throat if they touch you in a way that I find inappropriate, because you are mine Dean. …I've worked very hard to get you, and I'm not letting you go just because you think I'm a different person." He grabbed his coat, shrugging it on. "Now I'm going to the library to do research, you pack up the place, and then we'll go salt and burn a ghost…sex afterwards I suppose is optional." He couldn't even hear the slam of the door over the sound of his racing heart beating in his ears.

Sam was angry, hell Sam looked furious. He didn't look cold and methodical. Hell, he had just thrown what was as close to a normal Sam fit that he thought was possible. He had turned him down for sex twice, and told him that if he got it from anyone else he would kill them. Sam cared…in his weird way he cared. He never thought that would be possible again, not until he fixed him. …He supposed that was the thing about predictability though, you can be sure someone is one way, and then that confidence can come back and bite you in the ass.
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