Dean groans, hearing the alarm blare to his left. It was cold, their bunker being perpetually underground with no windows to let sunlight in. Unusually he seemed to be cold all the time these days. And every morning, particularly in the winter months Dean felt it harder to wake up.
Especially since he had his own personal furnace wrapped around him, warming his body and soul…every morning of every day.
Sam still lay asleep, undeterred by the sound of the alarm. His head lay in the crook of Dean's neck, his warm breath sending shivers down Dean's body, his strong and muscular arms wrapped around Dean.
When awake Dean would deny it till, he was blue in the face – but snuggling like this, waking up spooned by Sam was precisely why he never wanted to get out of bed. Their bed, in their room.
With no one else living with them in the bunker anymore, they'd shifted to a bigger room, gotten a bigger bed. So, they didn't have to try and squeeze into their single beds anymore.
Dean turns around in Sam's arms, inching closer to his brother and lets his fingers find their way through Sam's hair, scratching and caressing him. Sam snuffles a little, a small smile gracing his lips and he leans into the touch.
Dean smiles, and bends down to kiss Sam right below his left eye. Slowly his lips follow the trails of Sam's laugh lines, all the way up to his temple, where he can see a sliver of grey, then his forehead, where the stress lines have all but gone.
Sam groans, first in pleasure and then in annoyance. He twists around a little, his hands flailing in Dean's direction, searching. And tugs on Dean's arms to pull him close, silently demanding to be held.
Dean laughs a little and gives in, as he always does and pulls Sam closer, holding him in his arms.
Dean sighs, feeling pleasure and peace as he hasn't in a long time.
It's wasn't like this was the first morning of their life that they were spending together. It wasn't as if their relation hadn't been tangled, co-dependent and deeply, madly and erotically entwined with the other since years before. But it was the first when there was no apocalypse looming over their head. It was the first when there was no cosmic entity toying with their life.
It was finally and truly just him and Sam. Just the two of them. And a whole life to live.
And a life they were living. Things - after their last big battle against a cosmic dick – things have inventively changed. Hunting, their decades long family business has taken a back seat.
And Dean ruminates proudly, how they had both taken a call to now give priority to their relation, to their life and be more than just two heroes saving the world.
Not that they'd ever stop caring, ever stop using the knowledge and experience they had from over the years to save people.
They did go on hunts, but the motives weren't clouded by desperation or escapism. There was no Armageddon they had been forced to start or manipulated to be part of. There was no revenge blinding or pushing them into the life.
They were only doing what they did best…. save people.
They hadn't stopped hunting altogether. They probably never could. But they had eventually formed a network of hunters that stayed in constant touch with them, they even trained various others who got into the life; forming a tight knit community who did the job together, instead of Sam and Dean running to take up every hunt they found.
Dean trained them in combat, passing on tips and tricks, helping them acquire weapons and ammo. Sam helped with the lore and research. And when the network they had formed got up and running seamlessly, Sam and Dean were less burdened, and hunts for them dwindled.
They'd pass on most hunts, until some that came their way were trickier and needed their experience.
Lesser hunts meant more time. And for the first time in their life both the brothers started thinking of doing something else, something like regular jobs.
Dean took up handiwork. He had loved it the one year he had taken it up when he had been with Lisa. It was laborious and gave him an outlet for all the pent-up energy. He didn't exactly go back to construction, but instead got fond of woodwork – started making furniture, toys, cribs. It had been hard to get it to sell, but Dean with his sweet talking and charm had tied up with a few shops in town to sell his stuff. Later, Sam had insisted they make a website so Dean could get direct orders.
For Sam it had been no contest. His brother was a geek and his thirst for knowledge had led him to choose a job in Historical research and Cultural Studies.
Initially Sam had been wary of getting into anything new. He had been scared - he had shared with Dean of losing himself in the easiness of a new activity different from what their life had been all these years – just to be rudely pulled back from it. But with Dean's constant assurances and encouragement he had ultimately come around and applied for a job.
Dean was grateful. If there was ever going to be hesitance or doubt about the new turn their life had taken, it had vanished witnessing his brother's happiness.
Sam deserved the world, and if Dean had to, he'd give up anything to make sure he got it. Sam had already given up a lot of himself, not just for him…. but for the world in general. And now that they were free, Dean wanted happiness and contentment for Sam more than he ever did for himself.
At first Dean had wondered…even feared that Sam might want to go back and take up Law. And though the thought of parting from Sam, quashed his heart into bits.
Dean thought he'd go through it anyway, if it meant Sam would be happy. If it came to it, he'd go along with Sam wherever he moved to achieve the dream he'd abandoned midway.
But time passed and Sam never mentioned it, and from the looks of it…was never going to.
Dean waited, first patiently and then desperately for the other shoe to drop. And when Sam made no attempt, Dean thought of bringing it up himself.
They had been in the park midtown, somewhere around midnight – huddled under one blanket and sitting on another, stargazing…. Like they did on many such nights, when the sky was clear.
Sam was sitting leaning against him, head resting on his shoulder. His cold fingers finding their way inside Dean's shirt, trailing upwards and caressing his skin…sending shivers down Dean's body.
Dean had been thinking of a way to bring it up. He'd tried to apparently, many a times…but the imminent fear of separation had held him back.
But he knew, this had to be spoken about. He wasn't sure of what Sam would want, but he had to bring it up. To let Sam, know that he didn't have to stay. That he could go have the life he had always envisioned for himself. To let him know that Dean wanted what was best for his brother.
Because Dean may have had hobbies, but Sam had been the one to have a passion to work towards the dreams he had aimed for…. Now that they had the chance Sam could try to achieve what had been left undone. He wouldn't be the one to hold Sam back, not anymore.
Dean turns towards Sam, gazing at him, at the tranquil on his brother's face. Let's his eyes roam and drink in the sight of the love of his life. Sam catches him staring and smiles, happy and content and so beautiful that it takes his breath away. Sam pulls him closer and Dean goes along, sinking further in his love's arms.
"Hey Sam?" he starts, holding Sam's hand that is wrapped around his front, entwining their fingers.
"Hmm," Sam hums, sinking his nose in Dean's hair and kisses him there tenderly.
"Have you ever, uh – ", his voice cracks, he clears it and continues," Have you ever thought of going back to college…. finishing Law?"
Sam who has been a heavy weight on his side, suddenly stiffens," What?" Sam is surprised by the sudden mention of Stanford. There was a time when the mention of that era pained him, but now it was an itch that he scratched time to time, only to happily forget it. But it's unexpected mention from his brother when he knows it's a sore spot for Dean, has him worried.
"What are you talking about Dean? And why now?"
"Well, why not?" Dean says. "We have all the time in the world now."
"No…."
"No what? We don't have time?" Dean asks, perplexed.
"No means, I mean I don't want to…. not anymore. I don't want to go back to Stanford Dean," Sam states firmly.
If Dean wasn't waiting with baited breath for the punch line, he would have heard the surety of it in Sam's tone, if not the words.
"Because of me." Dean says more than ask.
Sam sighs, "This isn't about you Dean."
"Isn't it? There's nothing that needs us here Sam and I won't be the one holding you back… not this time." Dean whispers.
"So, you want me to leave, is that it?" Sam says, his words a clear effort.
Dean chuckles humorlessly," Do you even know me? This is me we're talking about."
"I could ask you the same. Do you know me at all Dean? After spending the better part of four decades together you still think I want to leave you alone and go back to Stanford? Or do just about anything without you?"
Dean hesitates and Sam's heart breaks painfully. This unspoken and unresolved part of their life somehow still niggles in Dean's mind. Sam shifts, then lifts himself to straddle Dean, almost sitting in his lap. He tugs Dean closer, gazes at him intently. The way Sam does when he's finally figured something about Dean, that even Dean hasn't.
His roaming hands rest at the back of his skull and move forward to kiss Dean.
"Sam…" Dean whispers, in confusion…but mostly in want.
Sam presses their lips together. It's soft at first but swiftly shifts in intensity, making Dean hold onto Sam as if he is the only anchor in his swaying, sinking boat. It's not a moment of passion, not the blazing desire that ends up in the best sex they've ever had.
It's just love. Pure adoration and overwhelming emotion that tugs at Dean, unclenching something within him.
They part a while later, catching their breath. Sam fingers Dean's soft spikes, threading them gently,
"I am where I want to be Dean…. With you. That's all I want, that's all I need. Don't you know that by now?" he asks, almost beseechingly.
"Stanford was another time, another life, another Sam. I am not the same anymore Dean. We both aren't. My desires, my ambitions have changed. I haven't thought about this since forever."
Dean stares at him, rattled. Something else, that pains Sam deeply.
"I know you think I was here or I am here for some messed up sense of loyalty or guilt…. but that's not true Dean. I am here out of my own free will, because this…." Sam said, pointing at them," Is all I need. This…You are my home. And there's nowhere else I want to be, but right here…" Sam repeats. His big arms wrapped around Dean in an embrace.
Dean looks like he wants to believe him, his eyes awash with love.
"But then…. What do you want?" Dean asked meekly, desperate to hear what his brother wants, so he can move heaven, hell and earth to get it for him…. just like always.
"You… I just want you," he whispers, still hugging Dean, tighter if possible.
Dean sighs, tightens his hold too, leaning above to kiss his jaw, his lips…soft and slow.
"I know Sam… I know you do…But there was a time when you wanted a white picket fence, a wife… kids, a steady career, a degree in law." Sam starts as if to interrupt but Dean stops him," I am not pushing you away Sam, nor am I trying to force my own ideas on you. I don't do that anymore. I mean – at least I don't want to." He explains.
"What we share? What we have between us? That's the best part of my life Sammy. And we do have a life, a beautiful one. Not the white picket fence, or kids maybe…But an underground bunker for home, me as a poor but hot substitute for a partner and now God as our kid," Dean quips making Sam laugh. "But what do you want to do Sam? Other than hunting, other than being with me…. Something just for yourself?" Dean implores.
Sam breathes, long and shaky, palming Dean's face between both his hands," You're something else Dean, you know that?" Sam huffs, staring at Dean with wet eyes.
Here he was, professing his undying love and need for Dean, promising and assuring his desire to never be away from him – something he knew Dean had spent his entire life wanting to hear. Yet here he was, willing to let Sam go, if it were to make his little brother happy. This right here? Was his constant. Was his home. And he could never leave it behind, he never could.
"You're the sun of my universe Dean," Dean snorts. "I know it's cheesy as hell, but it's true. You are the sun I orbit around. And if I move away, I won't survive. And if after everything you still aren't sure about this, then you don't me know as much as think you do." He pauses, then asserts," I am not going anywhere. Not now, not ever," Sam says…and with such certainty that there is no room for argument.
Sam senses the tension in Dean's rigid stance leave him, senses his brother let out the breath he had been holding and shakes his head in wonder.
"Have you been tormenting yourself over this? Worrying I was leaving, all this while?" Sam finally asks. And when Dean doesn't reply Sam snorts in amusement," You're such an idiot…you know that?"
Dean smiles, soft and slow," I know," he mumbles…looking away embarrassed.
"I know you think hunting isn't what I wanted to do all my life. And you're right. There was a time I thought I could do so much better than that… but now?"
"Now?" Dean asks.
"Now, things have changed. I know hunting is more than killing a monster and enjoying the high from it. It's in the look we get from those we saved, from their families when we reunite them. That look, that emotion is what keeps me doing, what makes me wake up and want to look for another case," Sam smiles and it's not a forced one, so it makes Dean smile too because he agrees. Because that's exactly why he chose to continue hunting even when so many times he just wanted to give it all up.
"One way or another I…WE are making the world a better place and that's what matters, right?" Sam asks, tender and cajoling.
And usually, Dean would balk at being treated like a kid. But he's not the same Dean anymore he was when he picked Sam from school. He's grown alongside his brother, learnt from him as much as his little brother has from him.
He smiles and nods.
A soft breeze touches them, blowing Dean's hair in a disarray making him look so tender, a picture Dean would never equate himself to and Sam can't help but hug him…...pull him against his chest and nuzzle his nose in the crook of his neck…
Dean is such an idiot, he thinks…. But his idiot. And behind all his poise, composure and pretense of being unbreakable, Dean was still the kid who was scared to be left behind.
He feels Dean's arms tightening around him, almost clinging to Sam and returns it by embracing him with the same fervor.
And when they kiss, it's like opening up their soul, like seeing every color of the rainbow. Like nothing exists but them.
This conversation and decision out of the way, it was only a matter of time that Sam found something he was keen to do.
Sam was good at everything he did, once he'd decided it was what he wanted to do. He'd landed a job through a librarian who had helped him resource various books and papers through the years.
The job was a state away but Dean had encouraged it, offered to find a place to rent nearer so they could shift base there.
But Sam had refused. He had finally accepted the bunker as his home and he didn't want another change. Plus, the work they did with the other hunters was just as important to him.
He'd responded to his employers with a demand of getting to work from home and they had been so keen on hiring him that they had agreed pretty quickly.
A couple of months into the job and Sam had gotten a raise. Dean had been so overjoyed and proud he'd taken the copy of the cheque and stuck it to the fridge door, like he used to when they were kids and Sam got back straight A's on his report cards.
Then he'd broken out the oldest and finest bottle of scotch they had and cooked Sam's favorite dinner of Vegetable Stew, Roast Beef and Chicken Potpie.
They'd been in a food coma, full up to the brim and on a happy side of hammered.
Ending the wonderful night with Sam taking the lead. He hadn't even let Dean clean up. Just dragged him to the room, pinned him to the mattress and made love, tenderly but so intensely that he melted under Sam's each touch.
Dean lay there a while, holding his Sam, reminiscing and soaking in the bliss he felt only around his brother. If he could, he'd lie there all day.
But when his stomach didn't cease grumbling, he gave in, slowly sliding away from beneath Sam, covered him with the comforter gently and bent down to kiss his forehead before leaving the room so his brother could sleep some more.
Usually, their mornings start with Sam going for a run if he's not had a late night of work, Dean sleeps in till he has to finally wake up to make breakfast for the both of them if it's his day for it.
They share their domestic duties, if one cooks, the other cleans. If one cleans up the room the other puts the bedding and their clothes to wash. Although they end up doing all of it together anyway. Unable to stray far away from each other for long, they unconsciously get drawn to the other.
Inevitably they end up making out. They've been having sex all over the bunker. Many corners of their home though still remain unexplored.
Cooking is always a point of contention between them though. Sam loves Dean's cooking and his brother's appreciation and excitement for Dean's every new attempt makes Dean work harder to learn all that he can. But Sam also wants them to eat healthier and Dean more often than not ends up overlooking the 'healthy' aspect of their diet.
So, when Sam cooks, he makes sure to include as many food groups as possible. Forcing vegetables and fruits on Dean he hadn't known existed. Dean sure did make an act of eating them, purposely gagging at their sight. But he'd never admit his growing fondness for it. Or at least the way Sam on realising it was hard for Dean to consume all that, cooked them so deliciously that Dean now apparently looks forward to eating it.
Mostly he just happens to agree with Sam. If Lucifer, Chuck and the million apocalypses didn't kill them, he sure doesn't want to die from a lame stroke.
After a quick shower he trudges down to the library, where they've set a basket for Miracle. Dean grins idiotically every time he thinks of him. It had indeed been a miracle, coming across him. The first sign of life in a lifeless world. After everything was over, they had decided keeping him, it had been no contest.
All their childhood Sam had yearned for a pet, but their way of living had never allowed it and neither had Dad. But now, Dean could make it happen for Sam, and for himself too… because he loved that dog.
Miracle jumps on him as soon as he walks in. Dean laughs and kneels down to cuddle the dog, pets him lovingly. The dog showers his love by licking Dean all over his face, making him groan in disgust and chortle when the dog tackles him to the floor. And they sit there huddled other like they do every morning.
When hunger beckons both Dean and Miracle, he whistles for the dog to follow him to the kitchen.
He pours dog food and water in Miracle's bowl and the dog leaves his trail instantly, more interested in the treats laid out for him.
A couple minutes later the coffee is boiling in their new coffee maker, the eggs have been whipped for the French toast and Dean has left the oven to heat to bake fresh bagels.
Dean heaves himself up on the kitchen platform munching an apple, as he waits. 'Right on time' he thinks when the alarm on his watch rings and smirks as he hears the sound of Sam waking up down the hall.
If Dean isn't in bed when Sam wakes up, his brother gets irritable. And even a couple rooms away Dean could sense Sam's petulance, even imagine the pout on his face. Sure enough, a couple seconds later he hears Sam's bare feet shuffling across the floor as he enters the kitchen.
Bed head and all, still rubbing grit and sleep out of his eyes, Sam directly bee-lines towards Dean who has his arms open for Sam to fall into.
Sam drops himself into Dean's waiting arms and snuggles up to him. Hiding his face in Dean's neck. Dean lets his arms trail down Sam's back and his lips peck Sam's temple tenderly," Good Morning." He wishes cheerfully.
Sam just grunts non committedly, "Where were you?"
"Feeding our hungry dog, making breakfast for us," Dean said, kneading Sam's back.
Sam gasps when he feels a knot release in his back under Dean's methodical rubbing and leans into the touch, "Thanks I needed that," Sam says.
"I know," Dean smirks.
Sam parts a little to peck his brother. More awake and alert now he takes the apple Dean has been munching on and takes a bite," Good Morning…. What's cooking…I'm hungry."
"I can see," Dean quips and lists the spread for breakfast, earning a moan of approval from Sam.
They stand there a while, sharing the apple between them. Idly conversing and catching up with each other.
Dean pushes Sam's hair back from his forehead," You should have slept in late, you were up doing that paper till late last night," Dean admonishes.
Sam smiles at the concern, and passes Dean the apple," I had a deadline Dean…Would have finished it quicker but Grant had called earlier for lore on a Rougarou case, so -"
Dean nods in understanding. Passing the apple back to him.
"What about you?" Sam asks. "You finished with that reading table you were working on?"
"Uh-huh, done. Need to start on the arm chair today. Need more supplies. I'll be heading out later, you coming?' Dean says, getting down from the platform when the oven pings.
Sam eyes his partner, who is wearing oven gloves and pulling out a batch of fresh bagels.
He drinks in the sight of this beautiful man, the care-giver of this family since age four. With so many hidden talents and supressed dreams given up for his family.
He loves seeing him like this, doing what he loves, honing his talents for any passion he's ever had. All domestic and blissed out, content with the life they've made…. holding onto every moment and living it to the fullest.
While Dean works on finishing up the cooking, Sam slides in beside him, arms around Dean's waist and leans into his brother while he works.
"Lay the table, I am almost done," Dean says. Sam moves to comply but turns back for a moment, chin raised and seeking Dean who places his lips on Sam's awaiting ones.
They eat in pleasant silence, ever so often feeding each other, licking the cream cheese of each other's lips. By the time they are done, they are almost in each other's laps making out.
Their lives have changed drastically, but in many ways it hasn't at all. For one, the love between them has overpowered their entire life. It's like they can never get enough of each other.
Even with them training hunters, hunting themselves, and the extra jobs they have now taken up, they tend to find time for each other anyway.
To Dean, it feels like a post honeymoon phase, that's everlasting. The aura of it seizing their hearts and making them want and need each other. Their love feels like the warmth of a home, giving both of them the solace they have always looked for.
Sam would be working on his research papers, pouring through books after books, neck deep in work, and Dean would quietly sit behind him. His fingers massaging his neck, unknotting the cricks out of it. If Sam's not on a clock, he'll lean back, tipping his neck to the side he needs Dean to work on.
Dean chases the exhaustion off of him, earning a warm hug and tender kiss from his brother. One brush of the lips turning to another and soon enough they'll be fighting for dominance, sharing fiery kisses. Sam eventually lifting himself from his chair onto Dean's lap. Their tongues gliding as they probe and rock together. They grind and touch and feel. Dean would groan against Sam's hands cupping his hard length, aroused by the touch of Sam's other hand tweaking his chest. And he'd come, dry and fast as pleasure soared through him.
Sam would gasp when he'd feel Dean's palm against the rough fabric of his pants, stroking him, Dean's hips pumping against him until till he'd see tiny sparks shining as he came right after.
It wasn't just the library. They'd corner each other often. In the kitchen, in the Impala. Often Sam would take lunch for Dean, in his work station they'd made in an empty area of their garage they no longer needed. Sam would watch him work, mesmerized and turned on…. until he could no longer contain himself and pinned Dean right there.
They could never get enough of each other, it seemed. Endlessly greedy for the closeness they shared. They'd find moments in moments, to be close, to make out, to have sex, and Dean would loathe to admit it, but even romance.
They'd train together, trying to keep up the fitness even if the hunt didn't require them as much as before, not wanting to be rusty if the need came.
They had honest to God bank accounts now, saving and spending hard earned money. They would go out on dates; which Sam didn't term their outings as, in front of Dean. They'd go on long drives when they missed the road and explored every popular diner or eatery they had heard of. They'd visit the nearby states as tourists, visiting tourist parks and ski resorts. Went for hiking and camping.
Ordinarily, they cuddled up in their room, different from the ones they'd taken residence in originally, cuddle on their king-sized bed, watching a movie and falling asleep in each other's arms.
The place never mattered. As long as they were together.
They had their highs and then they had their lows too. Good days and bad days. Years of trauma catapulted into nightmares, sometimes flashbacks and the panic and terror they had both undergone resurfaced, time to time.
They both had their own ways of dealing with it. Dean went silent, replying in nothing more than a few syllables, eating less. And Sam stayed up longer, worked more, busied himself to the point of exhaustion.
They help each other through bad days like they had through everything. After all there could never be anyone outside of their world who could understand the other but them… having in a way a shared knowledge of the kind of trauma hell inflicted.
Tonight, has been a bad night for Sam. He has woken up gasping every time he so much as rests his eyes.
Dean had woken up with him the first time Sam had jerked awake and hadn't gone back to sleep. Had stayed pliant and silent.
Sam never likes being pushed and if Dean would wake up Sam would leave the bed to coop into a lone corner instead of letting Dean in. His self-sacrificing brother, who thinks the mentions of his trauma would trigger Dean's.
Dean keeps his eyes shut, and waits.
After a while he feels his brother turn around in his arms to face him. Then feels warm lips caress his forehead and then his eyelids as Sam breaths out, warm and ragged.
"I know you're awake, you can stop pretending now," Sam says.
"Wha..." Dean still pretends. As if he'd been disturbed from a sound sleep.
Sam just chortles," Shut up, you faker."
Dean sighs, biting a smile and opens his eyes blearily. He stares at Sam, checking him over and Sam stares back, understanding.
Dean proffers his hand, which Sam immediately holds, expectedly tense but tight.
Dean doesn't bother asking if he is fine. He isn't. Because these night terrors, these flashes from the past - it wasn't their first rodeo and wasn't ever going to be their last. But they've learnt their way around it.
And Sam? He'd seen his brother being twisted and turned into something he wasn't, manipulated into being what he had tried escaping so desperately…to the point that he'd had to jump in the cage with Lucifer because he thought he needed to redeem himself. He'd come back broken and had been broken some more but had soldiered on, year after year. Sometimes Dean wondered, how Sam was standing straight and sane. His brother was strong, various times stronger than even him. And surprisingly that fact didn't bruise his ego, it rather made him proud. Proud to be Sam's brother.
"What do you need?" Dean asks his brother, waiting for him to take the lead.
"Just hold me?"
Sam doesn't even have to ask; Dean opens his arms out and Sam nestles in. Dean tucks him in the empty space between his arms, that seems to be carved perfectly for Sam and nobody else.
He massages Sam's scalp, running soft fingers through his hair. And only touches what Sam allows. In times like these a sudden touch, smell, noise, triggers his brother and Dean doesn't want to be the one inflicting them on Sam.
Sam's tremors are soothed and his brother goes slack in his arms a few seconds later. He breaths out hot puffs of air as his body seems to relax some if not entirely.
Sleep was yet far away.
Sam keeps fighting sleep as he purposely doesn't let his drowsy eyes fall shut.
Cautiously and softly, Dean asks," Want me to read to you?"
It was as if Sam was waiting to ask because he looks up, touched and says," Please."
Dean pets his hair lovingly once before turning to the bed side table to pick Sam's current read.
He sits back a little, leaning on the headboard, and pulls Sam to his chest. One hand in his hair as he rubs Sam's head and the other holding the book, as he starts to read.
It brings back memories of when they were kids and huddled for warmth at night, Sam's cold toes curling against his asking for "One mo stowy De?'
Dean would change voices for all characters, add his own bits to the story, and the laughing and squealing would tire Sam into a slumber.
Changing voices was inappropriate now. But Dean knew 'he's still got it' when a couple of minutes into Dean's reading, he heard Sam's breathing slow down into a quiet sleep.
Dean stays awake a while, and continues to read aloud. Hoping the sound of him reading would chase away anymore nightmares if they were to come.
Sam sleeps scantily in spite of Dean's best efforts and come morning; Sam is drained. Dark smudges around his eyes and deathly pale. Every sound, any touch making him flinch.
So, Dean keeps calm, keeps distance and allows Sam space to take whatever he needed from him, of his own will.
When he'd woken up, the bed had been empty. He'd rushed out of the room in panic, but had been relieved at the sight of Sam preparing breakfast in the kitchen. He'd silently retreated to shower and get ready for the day – to try and instil as much normalcy around Sam as he could. It always grounded him.
He goes back to the kitchen for breakfast. Smiling at his brother as he approaches. Sam smiles back, and it is genuine, though tired. They silently eat breakfast albeit Dean's pleased moans while eating that makes Sam smile unwittingly.
When Dean rises to clean up, Sam clutches his wrist while standing up himself and bends to kiss him, "Thank you," he mumbles , his eyes wet. And Dean holds him a moment, kissing his chin, tugging him forward to kiss his forehead.
Dean knows that if the night was bad, the day is worse. When on occasion things get worse for Sam, the nightmares bleed into the day to cause hallucinations.
There's so much to be done in the day and things just go from manageable to a disaster in a matter of hours. Dean's supplier wants him to pick up all the ply sheets and wood in a few hours or he won't be back around town for a week. Dean's customer wants his order delivered the same day. An amateur Rudy has run into a witch, cursed by a spell that will kill him by the end of the day and they can't possibly reach that far by road by sundown. Sam has work he needs to finish by the end of the day.
Dean wants to do nothing but stay home with Sam and decidedly he almost does that. He calls up the supplier to tell him to fuck off - although not in those words. Almost postpones the delivery of the tables he'd been working on.
Sam isn't expecting Dean to be around much of the day, so when he comes back to find Dean in the library pouring on lore to find a cure for the spell Rudy needs, he's left surprised.
He pulls the book away from Dean and brings him to stand," No Dean, don't…. please."
"Sam," Dean sighs, sad, frustrated, helpless. "I can't. I can't just leave. Not today."
"You have to," Sam says. "This, all of this is going to be a part of our lives Dean and not just today," he explains. "It's not ever going to go away," he shrugs and even if Dean knows it's true, he doesn't want to listen. "It could have been worse, way worse. But we're alive, together, still kicking, doing better than we've ever done. So even if that bit of our life keeps resurfacing, we've got to learn to live with it."
Sam is talking in his compassionate, emphatic tone that melts every person he's ever used it on, starting with Dean. "Don't ask that of me Sam…. Please?"
Sam knows what Dean means even if Dean hasn't explained in more than four words. Taking care of Sam, having his back is as ingrained in Dean as the need to breath. But if they even have a chance of having this new life they've been building; they have to make some changes.
"Dean," Sam whispers. "I need this," he admits, soft but sure.
And Dean can comprehend what his brother tries conveying in nothing more than a few words just as well. This isn't Sam pushing Dean away, this isn't him wanting to prove himself to his brother. He needs to do this for himself. To know he can do it even without Dean. As easy as it is to rely on each other and let the other carry the weight, it's only escapism and suppression. And it always ends bad for them.
Dean gets it, he doesn't have to like it, but he gets it.
Reluctantly he agrees. He gets up to leave, but backtracks for a minute. He has one foot back, one forward, desperate to touch but unsure. Sam decides for him as he says," Come here!" and sounds like he needs that touch more than him.
Dean doesn't need more invitation before he melts into his brother's arms, not inching above to wrap Sam protectively. Again, just letting his brother take what he needs while taking what he does.
Sam envelops him in his arms, bends down to sink his face in Dean's neck.
Sam doesn't flinch or recoil and that smooths something within him. As if he's read his thoughts, the psychic intelligent brother that Sam is he looks down at Dean, "You're my stone number one Dean…" as if it answers every doubt, if there was any.
Dean leaves, but only as far as the garage. He hides there all day. He calls a friend he's made at the shop he sells his stuff to and requests him to pick his supplies. Requests a young guy he's been training in firearms to fetch the tables that need to be delivered. And in about an hour he's done for the day.
But he stays where he is, lest Sam feel stifled by his presence. He doesn't want Sam to feel Dean thinks he is inept of managing on his own because it would be further from the truth. Yet it's not in him to go through the day ignoring that his brother isn't okay. If he can't be around, he can't be away either. So, he'll stay right there all day if he has to, just for when his brother needs someone to fall back on.
By evening, his Sam has soldiered through the day. Helped an amateur to break the curse, saved a life and probably gotten done with work too. Somewhere between being proud and tired of cooping in his own house, Dean takes the steps back from the garage, making a big show of getting back home from a hectic day, just to let Sam know he is around.
Sam would come to him, when ready.
Till then he cooks, washes up and sets up some sort of blanket fort for them in the Dean cave.
He'd splurged a bit more on the room lately, made changes. Pushed the arm chairs to one side and bought a floor bed, so they could huddle in and watch movies, not that they ever ended up watching the movie anyway.
When Sam still hasn't come, Dean goes for a shower, makes calls to finish up some work. When he's back to the room, Sam's sitting there, head tipped back to the wall, calm and quiet, idly sipping on a can of Ginger Ale.
Not wanting to overbearing and for his looming presence to smother Sam. Dean tinkers around the room, finding a good movie to watch. Thinks of taking the food that's considerably cool for a reheat, when his brother call's out to him.
It' just a soft 'Dean'. But it's all it takes for Dean to stride over to Sam. He just stands there, smiling at his brother. But Sam needs him. He tugs at his arm with a 'come here', and is pulling him down on his lap.
Dean goes where Sam leads him, braces his legs on both sides of Sam's hips and lets his brother pull him in his arms. Sam lets go, burying his face in Dean's neck.
Dean holds him securely, rubs soothing circles on his back.
When Sam parts from him minutes later his eyes are shining, but with nothing of the exhaustion or strain Dean was fearing he'd see.
Sam cradles his face in his hands and bends to kiss him. It's long, warm and achingly heartful that a whimper escapes him and he doesn't even realise.
When the lack of air pulls them apart, Sam doesn't move away, let's their heads rest together, lips just a breath apart," I love you." His voice is horribly soft and when it breaks Dean can't bear it anymore and pulls him in, silencing him with his lips. Dean's arms roam over Sam's frame, touching and soothing every bit of him he can possibly reach.
While still holding him Dean says," I am so proud of you Sammy."
And Sam pushes in closer, warmed to the core.
"Are you okay?" Dean asks.
"I am now…" Sam admits," now that you're here."
"I'll always be where you are Sam," Dean replies with such surety as if it'd akin to sin if he'd be anywhere Sam wasn't. It was as obvious and certain as the Sun rising and setting every day.
Sam chokes a sob," I am sorry Dean, sorry I pushed you away."
"Ssh," Dean quietens him again. "I told you Sammy…. Whatever you need."
"Only you…. I only need you," Sam says and he doesn't even realise he's been crying. Tears slide down, trailing down his nose mixing with the snot, dribbling from his chin. But Dean kisses the snot and the tear-soaked lips too, loving him as he is.
"I am here, I'll always be here…. You know, that right? Hmm?"
Sam nods, he didn't even have to think. He knew. Dean will always be there.
Dean lets him cry, just holds him, pets him, touching his back and neck over and over, slow and repeatedly.
When Sam calms down and is groggy and pliant, Dean gets up to heat dinner. Sam goes along, clinging to Dean when he heats the soup and microwaves the sandwiches.
He keeps his arms around Dean all along, hiding his face in the hollow of his neck while they stand at the stove. Holds the hem of Henley when they walk back to the room.
Dean lovingly feeds him both the soup and sandwich, eating when Sam prompts after every other bite Dean offers to him. Together they finish it all in a few seconds.
Tomato rice soup and grilled cheese were comfort food, and all through his childhood, and over the last couple of years, they cooked it when the other was unwell, unrested, shaken or exhausted. It was the promise of home and the warmth of a blanket that gave reassurance when even words couldn't.
And it worked like a charm. Sam seems sated and rested after dinner. Dean puts in a comedy on the DVD and leaves it on low in the background. He stretches out and pulls Sam to him. They hold each other, kissing each other on the lips, on the cheek, on the neck.
Unwounded and calm, sometime later Sam quips, "Must've been bored today…" he raises his brow.
"Huh?"
"Sitting in the garage all day…."
Dean looks down at him, stunned and more than a little embarrassed. "What? I don't know what you're talking about…" his voice trails and his eyes don't meet Sam's.
Sam doesn't prod further and Dean doesn't explain. But Sam can only feel touched, and not smothered by how much his brother loves and trusts him.
Dean had faith enough to be out of his sight, but loved him enough to stay if Sam still needed him. Sometimes he doesn't know what he'd do without his brother. What he'd done without him whenever they had been apart. And counted ways in which he could return the magnanimity with which Dean loved him.
On any other day he'd have climbed over Dean, ravaged his body with his lips, held him close and sunk himself into Dean. But he couldn't even if he really wanted to. He felt drained and exhausted.
He still wants Dean to know. Word what he thinks, how much every gesture by his lover means to him. But his eyes are drooping and he whines, in frustration and in want.
Yet when Dean pulls his head down in his lap, spreads a quilt over him and begins massaging his scalp, Sam new. Dean understood.
Sometimes when Sam is reflective, he wonders what life could have been if Dean hadn't picked him from school, if they hadn't gotten on this journey together. What if Dad never left and Dean never had to come ask for Sam's help? What if Jess hadn't died? Couple years ago, this thought would have made him hopeful. Now it hurt unbearably because he couldn't imagine a life without Dean.
Of course, he wouldn't want Jessica to die. She didn't deserve it. And God knows he felt guilty for pulling her into his life that had been mapped for him even before he was born. But through the passing years, had come acceptance. Acceptance that he didn't regret any moment he'd spent with his brother that had him reach where they were today. He wouldn't trade what he had with Dean, for anything.
It was always just Sam and Dean, together against everything that ever wanted to break, either or both of them. It was them against their father's who's dark, discouraged and one-sided vengeful way of living overlapped and ruined every bit of their life. Together, they had fought to make a cocoon for themselves. Dean had almost, single handily raised his brother and Dean had been Sam's entire world.
When their Dad died, and eventually all their friends including Bobby, Ellen and now Cas and Jack were no longer around. They had been each other's only family, filling in every void they possibly could. Their love had fought and won them every war, and defeated every cosmic dick that had tried controlling their life and them.
They were partners, and mates in every way. Beside each other through sickness or health, for better or worse. They were one another's biggest cheerleaders. Each other's strength, each other's only weakness too.
And it would never change, that they'd do anything for the other. It was precisely why Dean had been ready to let Sam go, had been ready to leave the bunker and trudge along Sam to California if it came to it.
And it was exactly why Sam was knocked for a loop when he'd found a folder full of pamphlets and printed research papers for 'automotive engineering' while cleaning Dean's room one day.
Quite clearly Dean had been contemplating a learning programe about cars so he could find a job he was interested. Why hadn't Dean mentioned it to him?
Sam had finished work earlier than Dean that day who was finishing up his first order he'd gotten directly from a customer instead of the dealer he sold his stuff to.
Dean hadn't said anything, but Sam had known and felt Dean's joy even before Dean himself had.
He'd taken to spending time with Dean while he worked, even attempting to help him with it. Which he usually did if he had the time.
Dean had been grateful and sent Sam to his room to get reference sheets of some previously made models of the same study tables he had been making.
It hadn't taken long for Sam to locate them. What with, his brother's immaculate organization of the room.
It was then when his eyes landed on the folder. There were pamphlets of various automobile shops, some printed sheets of information on them and forms for a related course. Sam read through them curiously, so lost in the work put in it by Dean and wondered with amazement and a tinge of hurt why Dean hadn't thought of mentioning it to him.
It was Dean's voice beckoning him from the garage that broke him from his trance.
Putting the folder back in its place Sam walked out of the room.
Fetching some beers Sam strides down to where Dean is…. assessing the right way to broach what he has found in his brother's room.
"Here you go," Sam passes on the sheets and a beer to Dean.
Dean smiles," Thanks Sammy," and tugs Sam gently so he can kiss him.
Sam sits on the steps at the entrance, sipping on his beer as Dean works. Dean talks plenty while working, including Sam in it and keeps glancing up at him, for approval, for assurances…Sam doesn't know. But in sitting there with Dean, in his silent observing of Dean's mannerisms and body language, he gets his answers. The one he'd come looking for.
After working for a bit, Dean's hands are tired. Taking a break, he picks his beer and joins Sam on the steps. He sits on the one bellow Sam's and scoots closer in the V of Sam's legs wriggling behind till he can lean back into Sam's chest. Sam smiles softly and pulls Dean closer, both his arms splayed across Dean's chest holding his brother tightly to himself. Breathing in Dean who smells like wood, sweat and old spice.
Sam caresses his brother's temple soothingly, letting his fingers wander from Dean's scalp to the back of his skull and the perfectly trimmed hair at the nape of his neck. Dean croons and leans into him enjoying Sam's attention and petting.
They just sit in companiable silence, enjoying the closeness, sipping on their chilled beers.
Questions are at the tip of Sam's tongue. He wants to know so much about that folder, why Dean has worked on it to finally abandoned it and never even mentioned any of it to him. But he knows enough by now not to push Dean into anything. He'd just have to wait.
But patience had never been his virtue, not when it came to his brother.
"Hey Dean?"
"Hmm?" Dean says, his eyes shut as he slumps into Sam's arms some more.
"You're…uh… you're really good at all of this."
"Good at what?" Dean asks, unfazed.
"You know… at the whole adapting and learning thing…"
"Huh?" Dean responds, confused now and sits up a little to look at Sam. "What are you talking about dude?"
Sam flushes a bit; he was never good at lying to his brother," I mean – you can cook, you always knew how to. But now that we have a kitchen, you've gotten so much better at it. You learn and try new things every other day…. and– "
Dean huffed a laugh," It's not a big deal man. Cooking isn't rocket science. Anyone could do it…"
"Not anyone, I can't do more than the basics…"
"That's because you love your rabbit food, and 'that' shouldn't be cooked," Dean jokes. And Sam sees it for the distraction it is meant to be. But he isn't going to back out.
"No, not just that Dean… it's just everything you know…" Sam was being incoherent, he could sense that through Dean's perplexed form," It's just…you were always a good hunter…. "
"The best," the idiot gloats.
Sam laughs and corrects, "The best… but I mean when we hunted you were good at that, when we found this bunker, you were amazing at nesting. When the Impala got destroyed to nothing you built it from scratch. Now when we've taken up jobs… you've learnt your way through it and …." Sam pauses to admiringly gaze at what Dean could do with his hands. Even the various pieces of furniture he had created for the bunker. "All I am saying is. You adapt to whatever's needed and learn it so quickly…you're pretty much good at everything…" Sam says sheepishly, knowing how vague and impulsive the praise sounds.
It wasn't like they didn't praise, appreciate and encourage each other. They did and in abundance. But Dean was always more action than words. And since their dad had never really praised, or acknowledged them, it had been left to both of them to bolster the other. Which as brothers, they had their own code or way of doing it and words had always been rare.
"Dude are you serious?" Dean chuckles, but it's more mocking than pleased. "These are just menial crap jobs, need no talent, just hands to work with."
Sam doesn't like Dean's self-deprecating tone. But Dean's bound to react when Sam does something their family is never outrightly known to do. And maybe that's biggest problem.
"Those aren't some odd jobs Dean. Cooking, organising, constructing," Sam points to all of Dean's work. "They all need the brain to get done. The brain's what controls your hand. They tell them what to do. And the fact that you learn just about anything new in a few attempts speaks for how well yours works."
Dean has his head tilted, a look of utter puzzlement across his face," Fine Sam, I am Einstein. What are you getting at?"
Sam thinks of mentioning what exactly he's been getting at, but with Dean a direct attack was never the way to go. He'd build up his defences so high, even Sam wouldn't reach through.
"Nothing," he says straight faced.
"What?" he shrugs his shoulders with his hands flapping to his side.
"What? I can't just appreciate you or what."
When Dean simply stares and doesn't respond. Sam has to admit to himself – this insecurity, self-criticism. It runs deeper and has its roots in their childhood and beyond. It won't just go by Sam giving him some customary pat on the back or through one conversation.
"What?" He asks Dean again because his brother is still staring at him as if he's popped two heads.
"Nothing man, you're just weird."
Sam can't help but egg on," Weird because I praised you?"
"No, weird because you missed a golden chance of giving me an awesome blow job," Dean leers.
And Sam laughs, outright and full bodied. Oh, how much he loves his brother. He should probably give him the blow job he's asking for, if the tent in his jeans has anything to say. But he can't help but use the couple plus inches he has on his brother to envelop Dean in his arms, crush him tightly and pepper kisses on him. Dean fights half-heartedly in his hold for a few minutes, before giving in to laughter and is pulling Sam's arms tighter around himself.
Sam plans a day out for them. They do it often. Plan a day for the both of them without letting the other know. Take day trips or even longer vacations when work is scarce or there's no hunt.
And for what Sam is planning to do or has already done. He needs this. They need it.
He hadn't given it much of a thought. Had thought with his heart and on an impulse filled out all the forms of the course Dean had been interested enough to research so extensively about.
Living in each other's back pockets for their entire lives, there wasn't much about Dean that Sam didn't know, including his credentials.
Now when he gives it a second thought, he isn't sure if he'd been right to do this behind Dean's back.
Things have changed between them. They don't hide or lie to each other anymore. And if Dean had chosen not to pursue the course, he might have had his reasons as well.
But he can't chase away thoughts of what else his brother could have done with his life if not to be a solder in Dad's crusade, or a pawn in Chuck's manipulations. After all Dean had been nothing more than five when his life had been decided for him. Dean had never even had the chance to dream of another life as anything more than the next hunt. He'd taken up looking out for Sam and Dad as his only job.
And now when they have the chance and Dean has actually dared to think of something for himself. How could Sam just let it go, especially now that he knew?
He'd planned on taking Dean for the new horror movie that had released. It hadn't gotten good reviews but he and Dean normally loved watching those for all the fun they could make of it, negating all the movie's made-up lore with the real one. He loved Dean bitching about their lack of research, because how ironic for Dean who hated research to mention it.
Then they'd drive down to Dean's favourite diner and finally to the lake for fishing.
"Hey baby," Dean says, lacing his arms around him from the back as Sam gets ready. Dean plays with the shirt button, probably wanting to yank it open and pull him to bed.
"Uh huh, Date night," Sam mumbles even as Dean is pressing his lips on his. He doesn't want to give in, but with Dean's tongue chasing and tangling with his. He loses any semblance of thought and lets himself be pulled to bed and on Dean's lap.
"It's not night, we could spend the day in bed and go at night, THAT's 'Date night' …."
Sam laughs," Whatever, day out then… Come on…. I – I …g… got a whole day….p…," he says between Dean's fervent and hungry kisses. He moans when Dean's hand slips to his waist band. And he nearly wants to give in when he hears Dean's short gasps. But he ducks and pushes himself away from Dean.
Dean groans and is sulky and a bit put off that Sam almost melts against him. After all, if Dean's not happy then breaking the truth to him would be harder.
But he'd still imagined this differently than disclosing it just after mind blowing sex in the bunker.
He catches Dean's wrists and tugs him close, rubbing their foreheads," It's fine if you don't want to go. We'll do what you want…. okay?" he alters.
Dean sighs. He likes being frisky with Sam, finding moments to be close and intimate. But he also likes this part of their life just as much. It's hard for him to express it in words and it's so contrary to his own image of maintaining some sense of manliness – but he loves the idea of them being a couple. With no one around anymore and the only friends they have left living at a distance. They get to be open and fearless in publicly displaying their affection. He loves letting the world know Sam's his – even if the world probably doesn't care. Loves it even more when Sam is bold enough to reciprocate.
"No dude," he says finally, scratching the back of his head. "I actually kind of look forward to doing this. Don't want to miss it," he admits softly and bends to peck his brother at the corner of his lips.
Sam grins happily and puts his mouth where it belongs, sharing a deep, languid kiss.
"Now you're tempting me Sam, watch out," Dean warns and Sam pulls apart to whack him.
As expected, Dean starts bitching about the movie ten minutes in. Initially Sam glares at him, but soon he's sucked into it. Because what's the point of hunters watching horror movies if they can't diss them.
Although the theatre is half empty, people still turn around to glare. Dean grins at them, sarcastically of course and turns to wink at Sam whose so smitten and infected by the happy grin on his brothers face that he doesn't seem to care.
Somewhere between the interval and ending, they movie is ignored in favour of kissing. He wouldn't put it past Dean to get into his pants right there. Because he would, gladly. But Sam supposes, somethings are always better just between them.
They don't wait for the movie to finish. Dean's fidgeting by the last hour and Sam honestly only cares for spending time with him. He plucks Dean's hand which is resting on his thigh and entwines his fingers with Dean's motioning him towards the exit. Dean grins and follows.
Even when they're outside, they stand close, hands still entwined. Sam doesn't bat an eyelid even when they attract attention and glances from bystanders. Dean, never really cared anyway.
Next stop is Dean's favourite - Big Joe's diner. It's standard food they've eaten over the last two decades on the road but it's good quality and taste and even Sam seems to love it.
No one in town really knows their real identities or how they're related here. For the regulars or the crew there, they're just a pair that's too smitten with each other. So, it's easier just to be themselves here without having to pretend, which is becoming harder as time passes.
They take their reserved seats, order their usuals. Joe winks and raises a hand in greeting, not even coming to give them the menu knowing their choices so well by now.
It's cold out, its almost November end and Dean seems to be shuddering next to him. Sam changes places from opposite Dean and sits right next to him. He puts his arm around Dean's waist and pulls him in, propping him against his shoulder. Then takes his cold hands and tries rubbing them warm.
"Shit you're so cold," Sam admonishes. Then notes," It's not so chilly out…. What's wrong? Are you coming down with something?" Sam asks, placing his arm on Dean's cheek and forehead. Dean's not exceptionally warm though, so his worries abate a little.
"Naw, I am okay… maybe it's just the air conditioner." Sam instantly calls for Joe and they change places where there's no cold blast right on them. Then orders for a warm cup of cocoa that he makes Dean drink, still rubbing Dean's free hand.
"Better?" Sam asks once the shudders recede. He is still concerned and half in a mind to drive straight back to the bunker. Sam fusses for a bit, pushing Dean's ruffled hair back, bending to kiss his head and Dean lets him, taking the concern for what it is. He'd be no different.
Dean nods when Sam asks again and leans in. "You're getting old, Grumpy."
"You're old, Whiny…"
"Your face is old." Sam retorts, a call back to the age-old argument.
"Is that all you can come up with? Seriously! That's why you should have your nose out of the books more often…get laid sometimes…. It helps," Dean teases with that shit eating grin of his.
"I do get laid, regularly. You should know," Sam teases back and bends to steal a kiss.
"Gross, you two," Joe taunts as he comes up to serve their meal, smiling at them.
"You better Dean-o?" he asks and Dean nods. But Sam still orders another cup of cocoa and instead of the coffee. Dean grumbles for a while before agreeing. Not like he can refuse the brat anything.
They dig into their meals hungrily. Plucking food from each other's plates, sometimes feeding each other. More Sam feeding Dean – partly because Dean's hands were trapped in his pockets for more warmth.
They're eating peach pie and chocolate sundae for their desert and now Dean can't resist feeding some back to Sam. Sam wipes food away from Dean's lips when he's close, letting his fingers linger there for a bit longer, then bends to taste the pie from Dean's mouth.
"Hmm, yummy," Sam says, smacking his lips. The sound of which makes blood go downwards and Dean's instantly hard.
If Sam keeps this up, they're probably not going to end up going anywhere else today. It'd be just them and the back seat of the Impala. He tells Sam as much and has to snicker when Sam backs off, at least with his attempts at arousing him.
Sam keeps checking on Dean, for fever, for some sign of illness. At one point he presses his fingers near Dean's larynx to check for swelling and gets punched in the arm by Dean.
"Ow, Jerk…."
"Knock it off, I am okay…"
"Trust me not to take a word of what you say seriously. You don't have the best track record of being honest about your health."
"Sam I am fine, seriously," Sam stares, and finds Dean genuinely convincing. "Dude seriously I am good. You can't blame me for feeling the chill now…"
"I am not feeling it," Sam pointed out.
"Well, you live in another hemisphere with all that height and Rapunzel like hair and probably swallowed a furnace when I wasn't looking," Dean argues.
Sam just has to roll his eyes at the exaggeration. But he snakes his arm around Dean to pull him closer," I am not kidding man, if you aren't okay…tell me. We'll go home. We can always come back."
By now Dean's frustrated, so he pulls away roughly. "You know what, you go back. I am going to the lake alone," he angrily walks away.
Sam had expected as much. Dean never does well with being fussed over. Even then he allows and does enjoy it a lot more than he did before.
Sam doesn't want to ruin his mood, not for the news he was going to spill.
He runs behind Dean, pulling him to the car by the hand," Okay…. okay… sorry. Someone's grouchy," Sam quips, wondering if Dean's crankiness was some sign of him burned out or unwell but doesn't dare mention.
He takes the wheel and starts the heat, even though Dean is no longer shivering. Dean simply rolls his eyes and submits to the coddling.
By the time they reach the lake, Dean seems better, or not chilled anyway. The weather is pleasant enough. The sun still a few hours away from setting shines warmly.
The lake is beautiful as ever, the sky colouring it silver and the stream burbles as it crashes on the giant rocks. The lake-side is almost empty, it being a weekday.
Sam fetches their fishing gear and their cooler and follows Dean to the edge.
Sam runs back to get the bag of snacks from the car while Dean finds a spot. Then takes his place behind Dean, scooting closer, their knees lined together – Dean's back to his chest.
Sam hadn't ever liked fishing as much Dean did, which was a surprise in itself because Dean wasn't one to sit idle that long and fishing as a hobby needed the patience of a saint. But it seemed to calm Dean. In a manner of speaking, it had always been his way or reminiscing childhood memories he had of his father and Bobby teaching him to fish.
Sam hadn't ever learned it, but he'd come to enjoy it for the serenity and calm it bought and the chance to spend quiet and precious moments with his brother.
Dean had already hooked the bait and thrown the line into the water and was leaning backwards, his head tipped below Sam's chin.
Usually, this was when they spoke the most. The peaceful and statue-still surrounding were influencing enough to get, even Dean Winchester to talk.
They conversed about their jobs, what their plans for the coming weeks were, what new recipe was Dean planning to attempt. Conversations slowly led to them recalling past events, family and friends they'd lost. In the beginning remembering all of it would bring tears to their eyes, but now it just left them grateful enough to have gotten to know those who they'd eventually had to part with.
Sam's a bit bored now. They've gone quiet after conversing for a while and Dean's engrossed in his fishing since the last couple of minutes, all because he felt a tug at the line. Nothing has come up yet so Sam chooses to nestle behind Dean's back. He's laid his head on Dean's shoulder and dozes a little.
"Man, you always sucked at this," Dean grumbles, his elbow nudging him in the chest.
"Huh?" Sam comes awake from the little nap he was taking. "What?"
"At fishing? You never really liked it. You always just get me here for an excuse to nap and drool over my neck," Dean quips good naturedly.
"Dude I tipped right into the lake the first time you and Bobby tried to teach fishing to me. So, excuse me for not being all gung-ho about fishing," Sam sulks.
Dean chortles, "Yeah. And you didn't know how to swim much either, you just paddled holding my hand back then" Dean remembers, then laughs again. "Dude! just two feet of water and you were screaming your lungs out. Such a wuss," he bends over, cackling more….having his fun at Sam's expense and can tell without looking back at his brother that Sam's gritting his teeth in annoyance.
He sees it coming but still yelps when Sam's fingers find their way to attack him with tickles, merciless and unforgiving. Dean tries ducking out, but Sam overpowers him and tackles him down on the grass, groping him and his tickling fingers reaching him everywhere they possibly can.
Dean's panting, trying hard to breathe through the laughter rippling through him, "Say Uncle," Sam demands. But he's barely able to bight back his own grin seeing his brother laugh hysterically, his eyes crinkled but not with bad memories, pain or trauma but happiness. And something swells in his heart. Love. Pride. That he had done that.
Sam stops mid-way, and just gazing at his lover, eyes bright with overwhelming emotion.
Dean stops too, laughter dying midway and he stares back. "What?" he asks, self-consciously.
Sam shakes his head," Nothing… just… " he gulps, a lump lodged in his throat.
"I know," Dean says, soft and understanding. Always understanding him.
And then Dean tugs on Sam, pulling him by the collar till his heavy weight lands on him. Dean's hands entwine around his neck and their mouths collide. It's not a 'world ending, I may never get to do this again' kiss. But it feels all the same. Their tongues dance around each other, achingly desperate to convey the rush of affection they both feel.
They break apart for air, and the flush on their faces makes them chuckle. It amazes them how every new moment alongside each other seems like a new and journey that should never end.
It's when Dean feels a tug in the line that they sit up. More like he sits up, almost dislodging Sam from the comfort of his arms. Sam sputters and wants to yell but Dean's rolling in the line and his catch is in the air dangling at the end of it and he's cheering joyfully.
Sam sits up and shares the moment with his brother, whose cheeks will split if he smiles wider. Dean's showing off the fish – for which Sam doesn't care much about- and then placing it in the separate cooler they bought with for it.
Dean's happy, almost packing up gear, mumbling how younger brothers don't appreciate the little pleasures of catching fish. But Sam knows, Dean wants to go do something now that Sam enjoys.
And he has to stop him. He came here to talk to Dean. Have him happy enough that the news he'll break to him won't tip him off and anger him.
Sam holds Dean's wrist," Not yet," he said and Dean sat back," What's wrong Sammy?" he asks.
"Nothing," Sam quickly assures," Don't feel like leaving yet. It's good here," he explains.
"Okay…." Dean drawls probably weirded out.
They sit there, shoulders touching, chins raised. Enjoying the quiet and the burbling of the flowing water. When a cool breeze blows Sam feels Dean shudder again and he pulls his brother against him. Holds his brother's cold hands between his warm ones to rub them the second time today. Idly wonders when his brother started getting so cold.
They've been silent a while and when Sam's mustered enough courage, he removes the package he's been hiding from inside his jacket.
"What's that?" Dean immediately asks as his eyes land on it.
"Don't freak out, don't yell at me…" he forewarns and Dean's eyes widen.
"What did you do?"
Sam doesn't have words to explain, so he passes the package over. His eyes don't leave his brother and traces the movements of his fingers and then his face. Waiting with baited breath.
Sam can see Dean's gaze roam over the pages as he flicks through them. He knows Dean has grasped what it says, knows what it means, understands what Sam has done. But Dean's face gives nothing away. He is passive, silent, frozen in time.
Dean's head is bowed, his face hidden and he's withdrawn himself so deep, Sam can't asses Dean's reaction – anger or surprise, it's hidden and Sam is suddenly terrified. He didn't want this. He wouldn't mind angry yelling, Dean calling him off for invading his privacy and interfering with decisions that weren't his to make. This stoicism is the last thing he wanted.
Sam waits. But there's no response, no words, no sound coming from Dean. After a few moments that seem like hours Dean gets up, gathering everything.
"Dean, where…."
"It's getting late, let's get back home…" Dean whispers, still not looking at him. And Sam scrambles to catch up.
"Dean! Hey listen," Sam says. He's desperate at this point.
"I am tired Sam – please let's…." his voice trails and he walks back to the car, loading the track and goes to sit at the driver's seat waiting on Sam.
Sam's follows, sitting in the passenger seat admonishing himself, lamenting on how the absolutely pleasant day has turned sour.
They drive back in silence. Surprisingly Dean doesn't play any music. Sam so badly wants to break the silence, initiate a conversation but when he sees Deans' white knuckled grip on the wheel, he stops himself.
After they reach home, Dean scampers down the staircase and dashes, not to the kitchen, not to their room, but HIS room. And Sam can do nothing but sit at the bottom most step with his head in his hands. What had he done?
Sam gives Dean space. It's late evening now, two hours after they'd reached home and Dean has shut himself in his room. It's almost time for Dean to cook their dinner.
In the time they've been apart, Sam's walked and covered every inch of the bunker. Mulling over and riding out guilt, a bit of anger for Dean's absolute silence, worry and finally understanding.
Sam knows his brother. Dean's never been one for talking. He's definitely gotten good at it sure. But he's still never good in expressing when it's about him. Dean's never really spoken of his dreams and desires. That's a part of him that had always been absolutely personal even in the face of their evolving relation as lovers.
Dean had definitely opened up and shared parts of him Sam hadn't known existed. But there were so many mysteries about him Sam had yet to unravel. And this, was probably one of those.
Dreams of a career, a life without and away from hunting – That apparently had always been what Sam wanted. But no one had asked Dean and everyone including Sam himself had thought he would always be a hunter.
Of course, when asked Dean too had always maintained on hunting as his only qualification on his short resume. But now that Sam thinks of it – what else would he say when people had predetermined his answer, his life path – as if they'd assumed Dean was only good for hunting evil.
Dean's hesitation to attempt anything else, and hiding when he'd tried for it made more sense in the light of his own revelation.
He knew now, that he hadn't been wrong in what he had done. He only needed to make Dean realise that too.
Sam contemplates a while, trying to gather courage to face Dean, but finds himself feeling uncertain, falling short of words if Dean decides to be angry with him.
It's Dean who comes to him eventually, surprising Sam enough to render him speechless.
Sam's sitting in the easy chairs of the 'Dean Cave', nursing a single beer for probably a couple of hours, that it's run warm and rancid.
"Having fun without me?" Dean's voice breaks through the silence and Sam almost jumps in surprise, having to hold the bottle before it crashes on the floor.
Sam's clumsiness makes Dean snort, and Sam can't help the bitch face that appears in response.
Dean crosses over to him, plucking the bottle out of his hands and then, Dean's straddling him, his legs around Sam's thighs and grazing his cheeks lovingly, with a hint of apology that Sam wasn't expecting and doesn't need.
"I am sorry Sammy," Dean admits, softly. "I mean, you practically planned this day for me… and I -"
"Dean we do this every few weeks, I didn't…."
"We do, but it's always random trips and impulsive stuff. This was ….this was the most incredible day of my life…"
"It's no big deal Dean…."
"It is to me Sam. That you planned all of it just so you could make me happy. It's a big deal for me," Dean smiles, tenderly and as sincere as he can be.
"And I am sorry I kind of ruined it by walking away, rushing back home like that…." his voice fades and he looks away.
Sam pulled at his wrist, waiting for Dean to turn his head. Tugs him lower and brushes the back of his hand on Dean's cheek," I should be sorry. I shouldn't have…."
Dean stops him," No Sam, you were right. If you hadn't submitted those applications. I may never have…I should be thanking you…" Dean speaks over a lump in his throat.
Sam sees Dean gulp, reigning in," Sam?" his voice trembles and Sam's heart lurches.
"Yeah Dean?" Sam replies, calm and easy.
"Did I really get in?" Dean asks, doubtful and hopeful all at once.
And Sam feels a surge of unbridled, all consuming love for his brother," Yes Dean. You did. Better believe it. You genius." He pulls Dean closer, pecking him.
Dean shakes his head in derision and Sam can't take it. " You hear me now Dean. I won't take anyone underestimating my brother, not even you. I knew you were capable of this; I knew you could do it. That's why I applied. I didn't even think twice. And because I want to fulfil every dream you've ever had, just like you've done and still do for me…." Sam confesses and Dean's floored.
He can see various emotions battle for supremacy on his brother's face, but he's Dean after all, so instead he sneers, and chuffs Sam on the head," Such a sap."
"Bitch," "Jerk," they banter.
Dean slides lower and rests his head on Sam's shoulder, sighing deeply.
Sam holds him tight, letting his hands graze the broad expanse of Dean's back," What is it?"
"Nothing, it's just… I never expected to get in you know… considering. I was scared to find out either way so I never applied…. " Dean fumbles. "I don't know if I am more overwhelmed that I got in, or at your belief in me," Dean smiles.
And Sam gets it.
It isn't like Dean is some fourteen-year-old who needs validation from his father for his achievements or take's people's words to heart about being the brawns and not brains. Well, he might have been offended at some point if it had been implied by his family, Sam argues with himself.
But Dean is a man sure of his capabilities and is one to adapt and mould himself into whatever's required from him. It's one of his strongest points, and Sam knows Dean knows it too.
But Dean never had what Sam had. He'd never dreamt of getting a degree, or being in the Ivy league or universities for a formal education. Not ever because he couldn't do it, but more because his family needed him to be hunter, caretaker, mediator all at once. And riddled with those burdens studies never became his priority.
He'd never had the chance to challenge himself. So, it wasn't like he was scared of some measly exams after facing a million world ending battles, but he was probably wary of finding out if what people claimed about him not being smart enough was right.
When he mentions the same to his brother, Dean nods, befuddled at Sam's perception.
"You better not be gearing up for some pep talk Sam, I don't need it," Dean taunts and Sam chuckles with a shake of his head.
"Dean. I've never, and I mean never seen you back down from something. Never seen you fail at something you really wanted to do. You not picking up a book to research or not getting your graduation was never about being unable to do it, it was only about lack of interest. And this isn't about some hero worship for my big brother… it's the truth," Sam explains, holding his brothers gaze with his, solid and sure. "There's nothing you can't do Dean. I trust you and I am sure you'll do this, as amazingly you've done anything you ever attempted to."
Dean lowers his head, and Sam hears a sniff. He brackets the back of Dean's head in his palm to sooth him. But when Dean looks up, his eyes are dry," You really think so?"
"I know so," Sam says.
Then Dean's straightening in his hold and cups his cheeks," Thanks Sam, for believing in me. Maybe that's all I needed."
Sam's staggered. Because things with them are never that easy," Really? So, you'll do it?"
Dean nods," Yeah - yeah I mean. Hell, if you've grown up enough to find faith in me, least I can do is return the favour. And because I really want to do it"
Sam laughs at the remark and at the call back of something Dean had told him when they were fighting the 'Yes' game with Michael and Lucifer. But he knows Dean meant it, as he meant it back then.
Sam coils his arms around Dean's neck, edging him close," Do this for yourself Dean, not me."
"What's the difference?" Dean remarks.
And he's right, Sam discovers. Their aspirations, their wants, their lives have morphed into one in so many ways that there's no difference.
Sam's happiness is Dean's. Dean's dreams are his. Sam's nightmares are Dean's torment.
They are one. Always have been.