It wasn't supposed to happen. John wasn't supposed to come back until the next day but no, he burst in, no warning, no nothing, luckily having been raised hunters even though Sam was lost in Dean's hums of content, his brother had heard the doorknob turning and pushed him away quickly. John hadn't suspected a thing thankfully, too lost in looking for another hunt right away but ever since that happened Dean had been distant. He knew his brother's...fear of being caught but fuck, now he wouldn't even kiss Sam back when they were alone. Today. Today they'd sort things out. Whether Dean liked it or not. Hearing the roar of his dad's truck, he waited until John was gone to hunt down a ghost before turning to Dean who was cleaning the guns. "We need to talk."
Sam couldn't blame Dean for being apprehensive, could he? It wasn't even that he was afraid of getting caught, afraid of /just/ getting caught - he was afraid of getting caught and getting Sam in trouble, because the last thing he wanted was for John to look down on Sam like something worthless, something vile. Dean could handle that, he could take that onto himself, but he couldn't live if he knew he'd caused John to look at Sam the way he would if he caught them, really caught them. So Dean was doing what he did best - ignoring the problem, burying it deep and hoping it wouldn't come to light. But Sam had always been so attentive, he'd always been the type to never, ever let anything slide. Dean knew that. "We do?" he grunted, peering down the barrel of his dad's shotgun, straightening it out and gently working the bore brush down into the firearm, not inviting Sam to elaborate, not even looking at him.
With a huff that clearly screamed out his utter frustration, Sam stood up from the couch and made his way over to Dean's bed, sitting down next to his big brother and completely forgetting the concept of personal space, Dean obviously hadn't though because he scooted away from him, leaving a ridiculous amount of space between them. Looking down, just enough time to collect himself and not let his emotions get the best of him, especially not let the hurt he felt at the action cloud his eyes, Sam took a deep breath before looking up, knowing Dean would've preferred it if he just dropped it and let it slide but too bad, Sam wasn't having any of that, not anymore, it had been a /week/. "Yeah, we do. And will you at least look at me?" He added, tone edging on anger. Dean barely even looked at him anymore.
There were some things Dean would just drag out until it was hanging by the barest thread, but Sam's persistence wore him down easy, it always did. He made a great display of rolling his eyes, jamming the bore brush down into the shotgun barrel a few times, pointedly, annoyed, before yanking it out and tossing it on the bed, setting the unloaded firearm down along with it. He slumped forward, elbows perched on his knees, and fixed Sam with a brief look before his gaze went down to the floor, hands opening up in a questioning gesture that didn't necessarily welcome the lecture he knew he was about to get. "What is it, Sam?" Dean sounded tired, already exhausted by this, because talking wasn't his strong suit, certainly not when it came to something as touchy as the things he did with his brother in the dark.
He was used to his brother's forte wasn't talking, knew Dean would act like this, he'd live with him for 16 years after all but it still didn't make him any less annoyed and just plain frustrated whenever Dean decided he didn't want to talk, or avoided the subject and acted like this. It got on every single one of Sam's nerves and after a week of no touching, no kissing, hell no talking, Sam wasn't patient enough to put up with this shit, not even when it was coming from his brother and even at age sixteen he'd always been the patient one in this situation. "You know what, Dean. Dad's not here and he's not coming back any time soon so you can stop looking at the door as if he'd burst in anytime now." He paused with a heavy sigh before continuing. "Are you really not gonna talk to me about last week and how you've been /ignoring/ me?" He knew he kinda sounded like a whiny teenager but he didn't care.
Dean knew it was coming before Sam even said another word, because they hadn't "needed to talk" in such a long time that this had to be the only thing wrong, because it /was/ the only thing wrong, the only thing bothering Dean lately was that things weren't right with him and Sam, or at least they weren't right with him. He scrubbed a hand over his face, managing a short, annoyed, "Sam," that sounded more like a warning than anything - a tired warning, but a warning no less. He got up, walking around the foot of the bed and into the kitchenette for a drink of water. "There's nothing to talk about. Okay? So just drop it." It was a desperate lie, because they had every reason in the world to talk about this, /needed/ to talk about it. Dean lingered in the kitchenette, trying to shut his little brother out.
Sam didn't miss the warning, the tone Dean always used when he /really/ didn't want to talk about something and usually it wasn't that big of a deal so Sam would drop it, wouldn't pry anymore but this wasn't only affecting his brother, it was affecting him too and they /needed/ to talk about it, needed to sort things out and Sam needed to know if Dean was ever gonna even /look/ at him again, the way he used to, instead of how he did now, green eyes cold and distant, putting up a wall to hide the affection and care. "No, I'm not gonna drop it. We're gonna talk, whether you want or not." Dean glanced his way before taking a sip of water and at least that was enough to indicate he was listening, even when he didn't want to listen. "Just because Dad almost found out, you're suddenly gonna pretend nothing happened." Nothing between them.
"I'm not- Sam, come on," Dean huffed, exasperated, dumping the rest of the water into the sink and tossing the plastic cup into the trash can underneath the sink, behind the cabinet door. "Look, you don't know Dad like I do, okay? If he ever caught us-" Dean didn't even want to think about it, perish the thought, because he knew John could be vicious when he was met with something he didn't agree with. This would definitely be one of those things. "Maybe... I mean, maybe one day it'll be different, but I can't risk it. I'm not gonna make him mad at you. So we just... it's gotta stop. And it won't even be as bad as you think it is - you'll get used to us not doing anything and then you'll find a nice girl, 'cause that's what you're good at, you're good at being normal like that." Dean sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
Once Dean was done speaking, Sam's eyes were slightly wide with disbelief because one: seriously, he'll 'find a nice girl because he's good at being normal?' right, because their lifestyle was the definition of normal and they stayed in one town long enough for him to even make friends, let alone meet girls and two...Dean wanted to put a stop to it? Wanted to end things between them? Sam /couldn't/ get used to that. Dean thought it would be so easy, that they could just go on like normal brothers and pretend nothing ever happened between them, that they could end the habit they've had of sleeping in the same bed whenever John was out, which was an awful lot. No, they couldn't go back, from that first kiss, Sam knew there was no going back and he was /okay/ with that, he didn't want to go back. "I'll get used to it? I'll find a nice girl?" Sam repeated the words and huffed a dry, bitter chuckle. "That's not what you were saying last time I was sucking your dick, is it?" He knew it was a low blow but goddamnit was Dean seriously gonna do this?
"Hey," Dean snapped, voice gruff, eyes a little dark, because that was too far and Sam didn't have to take it there. This was thin ice and Sam would see, maybe once he was a little older, he'd understand. Dean felt guilty for even allowing this to happen, for not waiting until Sam was a little older, a little more capable of making his own decisions - as if he wasn't perfectly capable already. "Don't be a little bitch about it, Sam, alright?" He let that stern gaze linger on Sam for a few long moments before looking away. It wasn't that he didn't want Sam - even now he was a little flushed, wanting to be near his brother, body programmed to want to take advantage of the times when John was away so that every inch of him felt like it was straining toward Sam.
"You like it when I'm a little bitch for you, remember Dean?" His eyes were just as dark and even as he kept on talking about their sexual life, their not so very vanilla sexual life, they weren't dark because of lust. He knew that gaze, that was John Winchester's gaze whenever he gave his sons an order, whenever he and Sam were fighting about something, that gaze meant 'discussion over' but it didn't have the same effect on Sam as it did on Dean, his brother always the good soldier, the good son, and fortunately neither did Dean's. He approached his brother, threading the line and getting up in his personal space. "Tell me you don't want this."
Sam was making him mad, Dean's cheeks colored with it, a little rosy high in the cheekbones. He pursed his mouth, wanting to walk away from this, and keep walking away until there was just nothing to walk away from because Sam had learned his lesson, had learned to stop talking about this, trying to get Dean to discuss it. But Dean felt himself sink just so against the edge of the counter tops as Sam came toward him, and his resolve wavered, eyes going a little soft. He hadn't been this close to Sam in days and his heart was racing. "I never said I didn't want it," he managed, voice low, rough.
Sam's dark hazel eyes, softened in the slightest because he knew if it hadn't been for John coming back on the time for the first time and god, what a bad timing to decide and make it up to his sons for not being exactly father of the year. Yet, this was Dean's fault, because he didn't have to push him away, they could've gone on like normal, just like they always did, but no, Dean was just too fucking scared of getting caught. "Then stop pushing me away." He leaned towards Dean, hands going to rest on the counter next to Dean, barely inches away from him now. "I don't wanna find some girl, I don't wanna be 'normal'. I want you."
Dean felt like his whole body was just humming with the need to be just a little closer, pressed right up close to his baby brother's lean body, because God, he'd missed that, he'd missed being close to Sam, warm as he could be sometimes. He was gripping the edge of the counter, he noticed, and he made a conscious effort to release the white-knuckled grasp, ease up on the imitation granite. Dean didn't notice it, but he was leaning down toward Sam as if drawn to him, just barely bowing his head down so that they could kiss, if Sam would just tip his head just right, their lips would certainly brush. "Sammy," he murmured, sounding helpless. "I want you, too. God, I do, but-" But what? Dean didn't know.
It had been too long. Too long since they've been so close and Sam wanted more, wanted to smash their lips together and make up for lost time but he managed to shove the urge down just for a minute, just enough so he could say the words he'd been wanting to for a whole week, the words he'd wanted to yell at his brother right after he noticed the difference in him. "No." He murmured quietly, telling him to stop it, to stop with the arguments and stupid what if's, the stupid fantasy that they could go on without this. "Stop pushing me away." This time it was almost pleading but his tone was firm too. Dean just /needed/ to stop pushing him away. Tilting his head a bit, Sam finally closed the space between them, eager lips pressing against his brother's.
Dean felt helpless when it came to Sam. It was hard enough to deny him things that a normal big brother should give his little brother, but this was different, it just... was. Dean could only go on for so long, denying Sam something that he wanted so badly. Dean couldn't stand to hear Sam say that, that he felt pushed away, but that was exactly what Dean had been doing and he didn't mean to, God, he didn't, but he knew that was what was happening. He tensed, but he didn't pull away when Sam leaned up to press their mouths together, and Dean's eyes fluttered shut, breath huffing out through his nose. It took a moment, but he adjusted quickly to the sensation, as if he could /ever/ forget the taste of Sam's mouth, the softness of it, and he tipped his head, too, gingerly kissing his brother in return, tentatively tracing the seam of Sam's mouth with the end of his tongue, wanting in.
Part of Sam had expected to be pushed away, had thought Dean would get angry, would demand him to just /stop/ as if he hadn't already done that but there was another part that just /knew/ Dean would cave in because maybe it wasn't healthy but they needed each other in ways siblings weren't supposed to, they were codependent on each other and could only go on without touch, without any sort of contact between them and Sam was right, all it took had been one kiss for Dean's resolve to completely shatter and let him in, finally let him in. Dean's whole body seemed to relax even though his tongue was still hesitant and tentative, asking for entrance but Sam didn't have to think it twice, parting his lips for his brother, hands sliding down from the counter to Dean's waist, pulling him closer to his own body.
Dean let go of the counter's edge, sighing at the sensation of Sam's hands on his waist, and he wanted them everywhere at once, anywhere, just on him, it didn't matter. Dean felt desperate, trying to keep his kiss from being too eager, trying not to devour his brother right here, first thing. Instead, Dean's hands went up to cradle his little brother's face, kissing him softly, too softly, all hot gentle tongue and no tooth, like Dean was just looking for the taste, wanting to savor that, not the sweet little sounds Sammy makes when Dean nips at him just a little too roughly. He pushed away from the counter, standing up, now, and pressing himself close to Sam's body, widening his stance because he was sure he would fall if he didn't. Dean's fingers brushed back through Sam's hair, gentle, and he pulled back to search his brother's eyes, looking for anything, any sign that they shouldn't be doing this, that Sam was changing his mind.
The kiss had started out eager, Sam had wanted /everything/, but then again he'd been torn, torn between wanting to take things fast, to catch up on lost time or to take it slow, to let himself explore every corner of Dean's mouth with his tongue again even when he already knew it like the back of his palm, wanted to run his fingers over every bit of skin, hear his brother's soft sighs of content and little pleased sounds, sounds that demanded more whenever Sam decided to get a little rough, or when he decided to be a tease and drag it out, pulling his brother's lower lip between his teeth. It sent shivers down his back when Dean's hand went from cradling his face, softly, gently, too the back of his neck, tugging gently at his hair, lighting up sensations that had been asleep all week, too long. When they pulled back, there was nothing in Sam's hazel eyes but affection and want, just plain need for more, more of this, more of /Dean/.
