Sam hesitated in the doorway, wavering before following after Dean. The older Winchester brother had a solid head start. Sam couldn't even see him, but followed in the direction he knew Dean was headed in. He bowed his head against the wind and continued into the darkness.
What the fuck is going on with you? Dean thought, hands jammed in his pockets to stay warm in the chilly evening air. He walked, block after block, past a convenience store and a few small shops, and into an abandoned neighborhood with decrepit buildings, marked by peeling paint and displaced bricks and broken windows.
Sam knew he should turn back and give Dean time alone. He also knew no amount of time was going to be enough for his big brother. Dean would continue to run from Sam. Not that Sam blamed him - if the roles were reversed, Sam thought he would want to run away too. He shook his head and continued on, keeping up a steady pace until he spotted Dean up ahead. Sam kept half a block behind. He wanted to face Dean, but he wasn't sure if either of them was ready for another confrontation. He maintained the same distance between them for a while longer before finally starting to close in.
Dean's feet followed along the sidewalk while his mind raced somewhere else entirely. He loved Sam. It was pure and simple fact, something he had never had to think about before because it simply was. But for the first time in his life, he was calling into question the nature of that love. He shook his head, wishing he could clear his mind of all the thoughts swirling in it like a hurricane. He noticed the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned a corner and ducked behind the edge of a dilapidated brick building. The footsteps loomed closer. Dean lunged out from the shadows, shooting an elbow back toward his follower's chest. His target blocked his blow, grabbing Dean's arm and twisting it behind his back before releasing him. Dean spun around. "Sam?!"
"Easy there," Sam said, holding his hands up in supplication, like a man being apprehended by police.
"What the hell are you doing?" Dean asked, rage building up in his gut. He shook out the arm that had just been twisted in a hold behind his back and shoved his hands in his pockets. He stared expectantly at his brother.
"Look, I'm sorry," Sam started, lowering his hands.
"Yeah, you've said that already," Dean snapped, rolling his eyes and clenching and unclenching his fists from inside his pockets.
"I know," Sam said, fighting back the almost comical urge to apologize yet again. "I get that you need time to sort th-"
"Do you really, Sam? 'Cause if you get it, then what are you doing here?"
"I need you! I need you to be my big brother!" Sam said. He knew he sounded like he was begging and while part of him was ashamed by it, another part felt resolved. He wasn't saying these words simply out of desperation now. They were always true. He needed Dean and he knew, or maybe hoped, that Dean needed him too.
"I don't know if I can do that right now," Dean said quietly.
"Why not?" Sam pressed, biting on his bottom lip to keep it from quivering nervously.
"Because, b-" Dean stumbled on his words. "Because we're not brothers anymore."
"What?" Sam said. It felt like he had been punched in the gut, all air knocked out of him. He forced himself to take in a slow, shaky breath. The air felt tight in his chest, like a balloon being compressed, on the verge of popping.
"How can we call each other family if there's all this fucked up bullshit between us?" Dean asked, pointing from himself to his brother.
Sam didn't know what to say. He had kept his feelings hidden for so long for this exact reason. He had never wanted to alienate Dean from him, to damage their brotherhood beyond repair.
Dean groaned. "A week ago, I was freaked out. I had no idea you felt that way and then all of a sudden you dump it on me. I wanted to be fine. I wanted to be okay with it. Or, even just be okay with being weirded out. But that's not all it is. You've got me questioning things."
"What things?" Sam asked softly.
Dean hesitated. "How I feel about you," he said, his voice guilty and quiet.
"Well... How do you feel?" Sam asked, voice hitching in his throat.
"I don't fucking know!" Dean yelled.
Sam's eyes narrowed. "You do know... You just don't like it."
Neither brother said anything for a moment, their breath rising in the cool air.
"So what is it? What are you feeling?" Sam asked, his throat tight and panic on his lips. He was afraid to hear Dean say that he hated Sam for this. But if it was possible, Sam thought he might be more afraid by the little sliver of hope that had crept into his heart and made him wonder if Dean could possibly feel the same way. He was disgusted with himself for even thinking it was a possibility. It was preposterous. Yet, even the smallest chance was enough to shift that little bit of hope like dislodged shrapnel in his chest. Whatever Dean's answer, Sam was going to bleed. "Please, Dean," Sam whispered, taking a step towards Dean. "I told you the truth. Now -"
"Hey, I don't owe you anything, Sam!" Dean spat. "I never asked you for the truth. I don't have to tell you shit."
Sam took another step towards him, a look of hurt etched all over his face. Dean pushed him away. He had only meant to keep Sam from getting too close, but he had shot his arms out with such force that Sam was sent reeling back, nearly tripping. Sam braced his arms out to try to catch his balance. Dean grabbed one of them to keep Sam from falling back. "Shit, I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean muttered, immediately regretting his words and actions.
Sam yanked his arm away from Dean. The shock of Dean lashing out at him had made his eyes begin to water. Dean had never put a hand on him to hurt him before. They had argued with one another before, of course. Siblings growing up in cramped quarters - it was inevitable. But it had never turned violent. Sam knew that it could've been worse, that it was only a shove. Still, it left him feeling sick. He willed himself not to cry. He nodded and clenched his jaw. "Yeah, alright," he said, sniffling slightly and turning away from his big brother.
"Sam -" Dean started.
"No, you're right. You don't owe me anything," Sam agreed. He breathed deeply and began walking back to the hotel, mentally kicking himself for going after Dean when he'd known better.
Dean groaned in frustration, kicking at a chunk of cement that had broken away from the rest of the sidewalk. His foot sent it flying, skidding against the pavement and coming to a halt a few yards away. He watched Sam stalk away and realized it was his turn to chase after his little brother.
"Wait - Sam, wait!" Dean yelled, jogging to catch up to him. "I'm sorry," he said, striding alongside Sam. "Sam, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you. I'm sorry."
"You're right - it does get old to hear that over and over," Sam said with his gaze focused straight ahead, unwilling to look at Dean.
"What do you want me to say then?" Dean asked, the frustration mounting in his chest.
"Nothing that you don't wanna say," Sam muttered.
"It took a shit-ton of booze to give you the guts to tell me what was going on with you. So, you know, if you wanna cut me some slack, that would be just fine," Dean said through gritted teeth.
"So, what? You wanna get liquored up before you talk to me?" Sam asked, glancing at Dean from the corner of his eye before returning his attention to the direction they were walking.
"No! I mean... well, maybe," Dean gave a rough little chuckle. The tight line of Sam's mouth showed how unamused he was. "No. I just - it's hard," Dean said. He wrinkled his nose, knowing full well what a pathetic statement that was.
"It doesn't have to be. You can tell me to drop it. To forget about it," Sam said with a shrug.
"When has that ever worked?" Dean scoffed.
"Fair point," Sam conceded, the hint of a smile making the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. He licked his lips and banished the would-be grin.
"You wanna know the truth?" Dean asked, clearing his throat and picking at a loose thread inside his jeans pocket. Sam remained silent, afraid to make another misstep. Dean cleared his throat again, steeling himself for what he was about to say, or perhaps trying to find a way to say it. "I, uh, I care about you a lot. You're the most important person in my life. But, yeah, when you told me how you felt, it freaked me out." Sam wanted to point out that Dean had already covered that, but he kept quiet and listened.
"But not 'cause it's wrong or whatever," Dean continued. "I mean, that's part of it, I guess. But it's not just that. I have... I have feelings for you too. Feelings that go beyond... what they should." Dean took a deep breath and released it slowly, creating a little stream of mist in the air.
Sam was dumbstruck. The feeble flicker of hope spread and transformed into a relief that warmed his insides. Still, he needed confirmation. "So, what you're saying is -"
"You might be a freak, but I am too. Yeah," Dean said.
Sam stopped walking and wrapped shaky arms around Dean. The older brother hesitated for a second before returning the embrace. They remained wound around each other like that for a minute before Dean pulled out of the hug. He swung an arm around Sam's shoulder. "Let's get back," he said. Sam nodded, taking a few seconds to rest his head against the arm Dean had draped over his shoulder.
They returned to the motel room, standing in the doorway for a minute. The space was small and cramped and had a lingering feeling of bitterness, and imprint or echo that seemed to have soaked into the walls. They had come to a resolution of sorts, but being back in the confines of the motel muted it somehow.
"What now?" Sam asked as he took a seat on the edge of one of the beds.
"Good question," Dean said with a shrug before joining Sam on the bed. He leaned back and snatched the TV remote off the nightstand. He twirled the hunk of plastic over in his hands for a minute before flicking the TV on and beginning to channel surf. The two of them watched image after image appear and disappear from the screen. Cooking show, commercial, soap opera, talk show. Dean muted the TV and angled himself to face Sam on the bed. Sam instinctively assumed a position that mirrored Dean's.
Dean cleared his throat and swiped a hand over his face. Sam bit back a smile at the way his usually cool and composed brother was fidgeting now. Dean chewed on his bottom lip for a second before leaning into Sam and laying a gentle kiss at the edge of his mouth. Then he quickly backed away, as though shocked by an electrical impulse. He took a deep breath and leaned in again, this time pressing his lips squarely to Sam's.
The younger boy's eyes fluttered shut as he wrapped an arm around his brother and pulled him in closer. Sam parted his lips, inviting Dean in. Dean gingerly ventured his tongue out to taste Sam, warm and wet. He breathed into the kiss, wrapping an arm around Sam's waist and pulling them in even closer to each other so their chests were pressed together.
Sam could feel his heartbeat beginning to speed up and realized that Dean's was too. They were nearly in sync with each other. The connection was quickly lost though when Dean pulled away again.
"We shouldn't be doing this. It's not -" he began weakly.
"I don't care," Sam cut him off.
Dean sighed. "I wish I didn't care. But I do, so just let me... give this, whatever it is, some time. Okay, Sam?"
Sam nodded slowly. It was strange to see Dean - who rushed into things headfirst - take a slow and cautious approach. But Sam knew he had to respect his wishes. Hell, Dean was probably right to want to take things slow. There was no coming back from this. Rushing into it would only make things messier than they already were. "Okay," Sam agreed.
Sorry it's taken me a while to update. College and whatnot. Thanks for reading!
~a