Thanks so much to everyone who commented on the first chapter! :D I was really hoping there'd be interest in the idea, and I'm so happy you're enjoying it so far, ^^

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They ended up on a lonely stretch of road just down from the Texaco. Sam had stopped and gotten them a couple of beers, and he'd felt a certain sense of satisfaction walking past the pay phone. Around this time before, he'd probably been handing a roll of bills to an old black man for taking him to the Lincoln bus station.

They were laying back on the hood, lights off, and Sam had one boot kicked up against the bumper, his beer resting against the inside of his leg.

"Sam?"

He could hear the uncertainty in Dean's voice and he turned his head over to look at him, his cheek resting against still warm metal. "Hm?"

"Why didn't you tell me? I mean, if things with dad are so bad you're seriously ready to leave for good then don't you think that's something we coulda talked about? I mean…look, I know I'm not always the greatest about gettin' everything out there myself, but you know you can talk to me, right?"

If this was gonna work, he was gonna have to stop letting everything Dean said get to him. This was it now, everything he'd thought was gone, and he couldn't let himself gawp in shock over it too much or Dean would know something was wrong. He raised up on one elbow and took a sip of his beer, sat up all the way and looked off down the road. It curved just ahead, trees arching dark over faded double yellow lines.

"I know. You're right, I should've, and I'm sorry, but I just…it was stupid. I felt like it was just closing in on me, you know? And if I didn't get out and go to school now and take the life I've thought I've wanted for myself, it felt like I wasn't gonna get another chance and I'd just be…" He'd just be stuck hunting forever, always on the road and on the run, never with a place to call home, always watching what he wanted most out of the corner of his eye and never being able to take it. He'd been wrong on several counts. The road wasn't so bad. Hell, he knew now there were far worse things. The road alone for one, and several others. And this, this was home, the way he felt with Dean's boot knocking a little against his as he sat up beside him, their shoulders brushing.

"Look maybe…maybe you can go to school, alright, maybe we can get dad to settle down a little somewhere and you wouldn't have to miss too much class, I mean-"

"No." It was a little surprising even now how not tempting it was. That was a dream he'd realized wasn't really what he wanted a long time ago. There were some things that seemed better because you'd never had them, one of those 'the grass is always greener' principles. He'd tasted normal, even if it was only for awhile, and the older he'd gotten the more he'd realized it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. There was Dean and hunting and the way it felt to hand a little girl back to her mother that was alive all because of them, and that was all more than enough. "I just…it was stupid."

"You sure? Cause I can talk to him for you, I know you two go at it every time you open your mouth, but-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna work on that." He could feel Dean's stare more than he could see it, and he was glad Dean was still just on the edge of having had too much. All the way sober, he'd have questioned that to the ends of the earth. "Dean, I really am sorry."

"It's ok, Sammy." He took a drink, tapped the empty bottle against his knee before dropping it to the gravel. "I, uh…I'm glad you came back."

"Yeah. Me too." In more ways than one. He nudged Dean with his shoulder as he hopped down off the hood, draining the last of his beer. "C'mon. Kinda tired, it's been a hell of a day."

"Oh it's been a hell of a day for you, huh?" It hurt, but there was little bite to it, and Dean got up and followed him. Dean got in the back, and he was just about to stretch out when Sam slipped in the other side, almost laughing at the look Dean gave him. "Seriously, circus freak? You do realize it's been about 5 years since we both fit back here?"

"Scoot over." He shoved on him a little, pushed Dean to the side until they were both stretched out on the seat as best they could. Dean was still grumbling but already cooperating, and he folded his jacket up to rest his head, Sam resting his own head against Dean's shoulder. They'd done this a thousand times when there were kids and quite a few as teenagers while dad drove all night, and even as much as they didn't fit and it was uncomfortable as hell, it still felt right. His hand rested against Dean's arm and he felt more than heard Dean's breath catch, his body shuffling and turning just a little away. How the hell had he never noticed before? He'd been so caught up in watching himself, in making sure he never gave anything away, but now, he could feel the way Dean's head dropped back just a little, bearing his neck when Sam shifted and rested his head more fully on his shoulder.

This alone would've been worth going to hell over, but if what he'd seen in heaven was right, it wasn't anything they'd be damned for so much as it was something that just was, something they'd been too afraid to take. Still, even knowing Dean had to feel the same, he didn't want to push it. He let his hand curl around Dean's arm, holding him close, but that was as much as he allowed himself. For tonight, it was enough.

They kicked their boots off and finished settling in. Outside, even the crickets were dying down. Dean slept and he didn't, and it was the most rest he'd had in years.

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Seeing dad again for the first time in three years, seeing him alive…it was indescribable. Words he shouldn't have said yet anyway stuck in his throat, and he wanted to go to him and hug him and be sure he was real so bad it felt like a physical need. He wanted suddenly to tell him everything, about the demon blood and Lucifer and how fucking goddamn scared he was and how he'd missed him and they'd needed him and how this time, he wasn't gonna fuck everything up.

What he did, though, was freeze, and that was at least a little closer to how he should've been acting. He saw everything flash through his eyes, shock and hurt and anger and even knowing how bad dad hadn't wanted him to go, Sam was still surprised to see that it was happiness that stuck.

"Hey, Sammy."

"Hey, dad." He still hadn't moved from the doorway and he could feel Dean behind him, a solid presence at his back.

"Listen I…I said a lot of things that-"

"No, dad, it's ok. Me too." He stepped forward, rushed to get it all out because maybe if he said it fast, he'd keep himself from saying everything. "Dad, I'm sorry, and I don't want to go and I'm not gonna be leaving again and I don't hate you, I never have I just…" God, even remembering he'd once said that, had once believed that hurt. Youth made you feel like you could take everything on alone, but what it didn't tell you was how lonely alone actually felt. "I'm sorry, and I'm gonna stay, and just…can we not fight? Try that for awhile?" Using those words back at dad nearly broke him, because he could see that hospital room in his mind all over again, dad with his arm in a sling, standing in the door and smiling more serenely than someone going to hell had any right to. But he was starting to think that maybe that was something he understood. If you made a deal for the right reasons, once you saw the outcome, you felt pretty damn ok.

He was probably even more startled than he looked, and Sam could see some of it in his eyes. But he nodded, and he pulled Sam into a hug with familiar strong arms that he'd missed so fucking much. When he pulled away he patted Sam on the shoulder, and he turned away almost quick enough for Sam not to see his eyes glistening. He told them to pack, that they were hitting the road, and Sam's instinctive murmured 'yes sir' was echoed by Dean's.

When he looked back at the door, he could see the change in Dean, the easiness he had about him now, and he watched just a little too long. Long enough for Dean to notice, at least, and he threw Sam's half empty duffel at his head.

"Get packing, Sasquatch. Time to go."

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Even being pretty sure he'd be well received if he acted on what he really wanted, it was a few weeks before he worked up the nerve to try. In his head it was understandable and even justifiable. He didn't wanna push Dean, and honestly, he wasn't really any more ready than Dean was. He'd spent most of the time since he was 12 or 13 telling himself he had to squash the way he felt about his brother nearly every time it came to mind, so other than jerking off and picturing Dean, he had no basis for acting rational about this. It was hard enough not to shove it out of his mind, much less think about acting on it, but after awhile, that got a little easier.

He went for it slow at first, sitting a little closer than he strictly had to, pressing his palm flat against Dean's back while he patched him up after their first hunt, altogether touching him just a little more than necessary. He was pushing in little ways, biding his time and trying to be sure he had the nerve to follow through if he got the right opportunity.

It was Friday, and they'd just spent the afternoon digging a grave in a field out in the hot Augusta, Georgia sun. Even in September it was still summer here, and Sam had taken off his shirt while they worked, felt the sun beating down on his back as he bent over the shovel. It hadn't been until near the end that he'd noticed Dean watching him out of the corner of his eye, and he played it up just a little without even really thinking about it, stretching and letting his jeans slip just a little lower on his hips.

When they got back to the room Dean took the first shower without asking, and from where he lay stretched out on the bed, Sam could hear the muffled sounds of Dean jerking off in the shower. His moans were soft and quiet, restrained, and Sam panted at the sound, his body arching as he rubbed at the front of his own jeans. God, what he'd give to hear Dean make those sounds unrestrained and under his touch. It didn't take long to get himself off after that, and he cleaned up with a couple of tissues and was sitting down on the edge of the bed watching Star Wars by the time Dean got out of the shower. He let his eyes rake over his chest, linger just a little more than they should've, and he brushed up against him a little on his way into the bathroom.

He was still nervous, still terrified, but he knew the look he'd seen in Dean's eyes out in the field. He'd worn it enough times himself, and he'd watched just as carefully. It was want and need and connection and dependence all rolled up into one, and it was long past time they both stopped looking.

That night they buried the corpse of the woman who they'd known couldn't survive the demon riding her, and when they finished salting and burning her bones, he'd come up close behind his brother and told him it seemed like a good night for a few drinks.

They drove to the liquor store with the windows down and Pink Floyd playing, and Dean bought them a six pack of something other than dirt cheap beer and a bottle of Jack. They argued over baseball and who'd be going to the World Series, and when he was drunk enough and still smiling, Dean told Sam he was thinking maybe they should talk to dad about taking a hunt on their own.

Sam moved just a little closer, his arm pressing against Dean's. "That'd be great, Dean, but I'm not sure he'll let us just yet." That was probably gonna have to wait a couple years, but his urgency had kind of faded. These were good years, the years before the apocalypse, years before Azazel had even come out of hiding. They could afford to breathe, to live a little first.

"Hey, I think we make a pretty good team."

They were in the grass, side by side but facing opposite directions, and Sam hooked his right arm around his knee as he leaned in just a little closer. "Yeah. We do."

Dean was looking down, thinking, and this close he was breathtaking. Everything about him had looked hard later on, cold and distant and this…this was his big brother the way he remembered him, the one person he'd loved more than anything for as long as he could remember, and when it finally came to acting he did it entirely without thinking.

He brought his left hand up to cup Dean's cheek, and he kissed him before Dean could question him. Even as startled as he had to have been, Dean didn't make Sam wonder if he'd done the right thing for long. He kissed back almost right away, lips moving eagerly against his, and when Sam flicked his tongue against Dean's lips he moaned, opening for Sam like he'd just been waiting for an excuse to do it. Dean tasted like whiskey and something Sam couldn't place that had to be just Dean, and he chased after that, licking deep into his mouth and groaning when Dean's hand came up to hold him there.

They kissed until Sam knew he wouldn't be able to stop if they kept going, and going farther than this, that was a something he wanted them both entirely clearheaded for. This first time, he'd just needed to get the possibility out there, to test the waters and make sure he wasn't going to drown. Dean slowed with him, catching on, but he didn't stop touching him, hand sliding down his arm before he pulled Sam in close, head tucking into Sam's shoulder, breathing against his throat.

Everything he could've wanted to say went too deep for words, and Sam didn't even try. He wrapped his arm around Dean's shoulders and held him there, soaking the memory into his skin. He hoped heaven was paying attention.

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"I wasn't that drunk, you know."

Sam jerked a little, knife slipping on the whetstone. There were some conversations you really shouldn't have while working with weapons but then again, for the two of them this was pretty much everyday work, motions drilled into them by repetition and muscle memory. He waited for Dean to elaborate.

"And I think you have to know that, so when exactly were you planning on explaining all of that?"

"All of what?" Yeah, wrong answer. Dean's hands stilled on the rifle, glaring as he picked up the rag.

"Cute."

He licked his lips, considering. "Why do you think?"

"What is this, 20 questions? I asked you a goddamn question, Sam, and I know you know what I'm talking about so why don't you-"

"Because I wanted to." More than anything, even more than the way Dean had kissed him in the field last night, this proved he'd been right to go for it. Dean didn't get upset over just anything, didn't bother getting worked up unless it actually meant something to him, something real. Dean was watching him, and he put his own eyes back on his hands and the knife, kept working as he tried to say it just right. "Did you think about that? I mean, why else would I? I wanted to, and I have for a long time, and it's kind of part of why I thought I should go, but it's…if we both want it, I guess there's not anything wrong with it."

Holy shit this was hard, almost as hard as he'd always been so afraid it would be. The thing was, though, not saying it…in the long run, that was harder.

"Lot of people'd disagree with that." His voice was quiet, soft and unreadable even to Sam and his heart beat faster in his chest, good old fashion nerves mixed with honest fear. If he was wrong, if Dean didn't…

"Do you?" God, he sounded like a five year old.

But this was Dean, and just like every other time in his life Sam had ever felt vulnerable, his brother was there, putting down the rifle and reaching across the table to force Sam's hands to still on the whetstone.

"No. No, Sammy, of course not, and you don't know how much I…" He cut himself off, shaking his head, his eyes darkening. "But this? We can't do this. It's fucked up, Sam, and somebody, somebody could find out and-"

"And what? Tell us we're going to hell?" Yeah, no threat there. "Dean, I'm not scared. I'm not scared at all, not of this, not of someone knowing, not anything other than what could happen to us if we never do anything about it because I know it's driving me crazy, Dean, and if you feel the same way about it at all then it's driving you crazy too, and it is, isn't it?" Please, God, let him say yes.

He looked down, studying the table, but his hands didn't move away from Sam's. "This…this isn't normal, Sammy. I know what you want, ok, and it isn't this. I can't…" He laughed, tried to play off how obviously hard it was for him to keep pushing back. "I can't give you what you want, Sam, not in the long run, and if we do this, that's what it's gonna have to be. I mean, I don't think this is somethin' we could start and stop whenever wanted, man, it's gonna…it's too big. We do this, it's gonna leave a mark." Yeah, that's exactly what he was hoping. If they did this, it'd be for good. It'd change things, change them forever. But even having it almost handed to him, Dean was still hardwired not to let himself take what he wanted, not without trying to look out for Sam first.

This time around, Sam wasn't gonna let him be so self sacrificing. Especially when he was wrong. "You're my brother. You're more than enough, Dean, trust me. Everything else, all that other stuff I wanted…it just looks nice. This is real, Dean, and it's everything. It's right. C'mon, I know what I'm asking here, and I mean it. I'm not sayin' just for right now I'm…this is it. This is what I want. If you want it too."

"Sammy…" He was cracking, resolve crumbling under Sam's pleas, and he hadn't looked back up at him yet.

"I'm serious, Dean. I want this. And I know you do, too. So just…it doesn't have to be hard. Just us." As natural as breathing. It wouldn't be hard at all.

"But it's not that easy! You're my little brother, Sam, I'm supposed to look out for you, and to do this…I can't."

"Well, who says you can't still look after me? I mean, I'm pretty sure you're gonna be doin' that regardless, even though I'm not a kid anymore. And besides, I'm your brother too, you know. Maybe this way, we can look out for each other?" Maybe. Maybe, maybe, maybe. And maybe this way, they'd change everything.

The Impala drove up outside just then and their hands jerked apart. Sam nicked himself with the knife, and he brought his thumb to his mouth, sucking at the welling blood as the door opened.

"Think I've got a case. Found an obit two states over, woman home alone was strangled in her kitchen by an extension cord with the doors locked. "

"Sounds like a poltergeist." Dean's voice only sounded just a little strained.

"That's what I thought. 'M gonna jump in the shower, you boys get everything ready to go, ok?"

They both nodded, and the minute dad wasn't watching Dean yanked Sam's hand away from his mouth by the wrist, pulling him toward the bed. There was a small first aid kit in the nightstand drawer and Dean pulled it out, cleaning and bandaging it quick. Sam was antsy, and he was just about to bring it up again when Dean finished, his hands lingering on Sam's.

"Ok."

He blinked, a little afraid to believe it. "Ok?"

"If you mean this, if…" He looked up, jade green eyes meeting his. Dean was the only person he ever felt looked into him rather than at him. It had always been that way. "Just me and you. And that's it."

There were a dozen meanings in there, and Sam caught all the ones he didn't say. Dean would quit sleeping around and he'd quit running away, and there'd just be the two of them. They'd leaned on each other in every other aspect of their lives and this was it, the last one, the last move that would clench it. If they did this, they literally wouldn't need anyone else ever again.

It felt just as altering as he'd thought it would.

"Yeah. Ok."

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Dad drove all night. Sam took the front seat, navigating, and they only almost fought once. He was really getting better at it. He could never be as flatly accepting as Dean would, but he could skirt around digging in his heels just for sake of wanting his way. If it meant he got some more good years with his dad, he could do it. He was sure they were gonna have plenty more knock down drag out fights in their future, but at least there wouldn't be as many. And at least this time, dad'd be around for a lot more of them, because there was no way in hell he was gonna let him die now that he could stop it.

Around three Dean sat forward from the back, his arm dangling over the edge of the seat and brushing against Sam's shoulder, and Sam felt like he was about to crawl out of his skin. It was one thing wanting Dean and knowing he couldn't touch, but it was something else entirely to know that he could and hadn't yet really had the opportunity. That was more than a little maddening, and considering that physically he was 18 all over again, it was all he could do to hide the fact that he kept being affected by it, no matter how hard he tried not to.

Dean squeezed his shoulder, hard, and he could feel the promise in it.

Just wait and you'll get what you want.

Except the thing was, he'd been waiting for a damn long time. Technically, that probably should've made it easier to wait just a little longer, but it didn't. Not to mention that when they did check into a room dad was right there, and after questioning one person he suggested they all get plenty of sleep so they'd be totally fresh to head out the next day. It was still late afternoon, and they pulled the curtains as far as they could to block out the sun.

Getting into bed with Dean, then, was harder than it ever had been. They'd shared for years, sure and there'd been dozens of nights when he'd even jerked off with Dean there, even thinking of Dean with Dean right there, all quiet and quick under the covers. But this, this was knowing that if they were alone and he turned to kiss his brother Dean would welcome it, and that was torture.

He was trying to calm down and go to sleep, God he was trying, but he was too hard, too hyperaware of the weight of Dean's body against the mattress just inches away. Dean rolled over to face him, then, and Sam gasped softly as Dean's palm flattened against his ribs. He wanted this, fuck he did, but he'd been through a lot of shit in his life, and surely he could manage to wait a couple days for the right opportunity. After everything else, all the real problems he'd had, that should've felt like nothing. Their first time touching each other shouldn't have to be like this, all rushed and quiet and when they couldn't fully appreciate it.

The look in Dean's eyes was all seriousness, and he leaned in to press up against Sam's chest. He could feel Dean then, hard against his hip, and he had to bite down on his tongue to keep from crying out. He tasted iron and then Dean was there, kissing the blood away and soothing the mark with his own tongue, warm and thorough. "Can you be quiet, Sammy?"

No. No, that really wasn't going to happen, probably. But his brain wasn't exactly working anymore. He ran a hand down Dean's back, and he bit his lip this time when Dean pressed closer.

"Stop that." Dean whispered the words against his lips, pulled Sam's lower lip between his own and sucked at it until was sure he was gonna start whimpering and begging for Dean to put that talent to use somewhere else. Dean stopped just short of that, and when he pulled back Sam could see the pure desire burning in his eyes. "Quiet, ok? Just this once."

That he definitely agreed with, because this was something he wanted to savor, to take full advantage of when they were alone and he could explore Dean's body as he wanted. But right now he felt like if Dean didn't touch him he was gonna go crazy.

There were only a handful of people who really knew Dean, the way he was once you got to know him not the way he was to an outsider, and even out of those Sam was the only one to ever know him down to the core. Dean was guarded and he was rough and he didn't let much inside, but once you were in, you stayed there. He didn't talk about the way he felt often but when he did he meant every word. More often than not, everything anyone could have wanted him to say would be written in his body language anyway, if you knew where to look. And his eyes, it was there a lot too.

He was strong and a near fearless hunter, and he could kill when he needed to better than Sam could ever manage. But there were things he loved, and he was different then. His weapons, his car, his brother, those were his, and unless something was seriously wrong he never touched them with anything but a gentle hand. Sam had known that already but he was learning it all over again in the way Dean was touching him now. Reverent and a little cautious, like he could hardly believe he had the chance and he might never get it again.

They couldn't stretch this out, though, and Dean knew it, and he settled for only rubbing Sam's chest a few times, pressed tight to Sam's side as he slid his hand down to the band of his boxers. Dean kissed him to swallow the soft sound he couldn't hide at that first touch, his hips bucking up frantically into Dean's hand. Whatever he'd imagined, he'd have never thought it would actually feel that good.

Dean stroked him without teasing, quick and sure, and his whisper in Sam's ear was low with arousal in a way Sam had never heard it before. He already loved the sound. "I got ya, Sam. I'm gonna take care of you. Come on, we'll do this for real when we can, just let go, Sammy, c'mon." That was more than an easy request to follow. It didn't take long at all before he was coming in Dean's grasp, trying not to pant as he twitched and spilled over Dean's fingers, but the most satisfying part of all was the way Dean swore at the feeling, burying his face into Sam's neck and sucking lightly at the juncture of his shoulder.

He could tell from the way Dean's hips were jerking slightly against his that the urge to thrust and come against his hip was almost overwhelming, but the damn motel bed was just too fucking loud with dad sleeping about 2 feet away.

Dean slipped a hand into his own boxers, ready to finish himself off quick, and he knocked Sam's hand away when Sam tried to reach for him. He was too close, Sam could tell, and he apparently he wanted to wait and let Sam touch him when he wasn't quite so on the edge of falling apart. It was only two strokes before he came, and he gasped softly as he did, his breath hitching when Sam raked his fingers through Dean's hair.

Dean tucked himself all the way back into his boxers, and he wiped his hand and Sam's chest off with a corner of the sheet. It wasn't ideal and Sam felt sticky and he couldn't help but wish they were alone so he could strip out of his boxers and change beds and maybe even shower before he slept. But when it came down to it, all of that was just details.

He slid one arm under his pillow, settling in to sleep on his stomach. Dean was watching him, and Sam could see the doubt starting to creep into his eyes. He reached over and pulled Dean into a slow kiss, keeping him close afterward until their breath evened out.

"Night, Dean."

"Night, Sammy."

He knew Dean was still thinking, and by the time he was drifting off he wasn't even sure Dean was asleep, but most of the doubt had left him the last time Sam had looked. This was just normal Dean worrying, and that was always gonna happen over something as big as this. When Sam woke up they were still close, his hand resting against Dean's shoulder. Dean was still watching the ceiling and he didn't look like he'd slept at all, but he closed his eyes and smiled just a little when he felt Sam move.

"Hey, Sammy."

He tightened his hand on Dean's shoulder, pulled himself a little closer. "You ok?"

"Nah. I'm great."

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