Fandom:
Supernatural
Chapter: 1/1
Rating: NC-17 (m/m slash
implied)
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Warnings:
contains inplied Wincest, so if it makes you squicky, don't read
on.
Spoilers: None
Feedback: as always, yes please but no nits
or shreds, thanks.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Supernatural
franchise, and I'm making no money whatsoever from this
fic
Summary: …and this one came about because I couldn't sleep
last night, and when I can't sleep, my mind wanders over what ifs
and I had to write it down…it's not long…just a short drabble
really.
Written: 2008
Dean sat on the edge of the bath. Last night still preyed heavily on his mind, and he knew at some point he was going to have to talk to Sam about it. Thing is, he wasn't sure he could face him yet.
He hadn't meant for it to happen…they'd been on the road for way too long…cooped up together…something was bound to happen sooner or later…but now he had to explain.
Standing, he moved back to the sink and splashed the ice cold water on his face again. The rough towel scratched his face as he rubbed it dry. Growling, he threw it against the hamper and watched it slide to the floor in a crumpled heap – rather how he felt himself.
Now or never…
Throwing open the bathroom door, he found himself stuck in the opening as Sam looked up from the laptop and their eyes locked.
Dean noticed the faint blush that colored Sam's cheeks, the way he shifted uncomfortably on the bed. At least he wasn't alone in his shame.
"Dude, we need to talk about last night," he finally spluttered.
The color in Sam's cheeks deepened another shade as he fussed over something on the laptop. "Yeah," he choked out. "Maybe later. I've got to…umm…" Sam scratched his head while he tried to think of some excuse. "I've got to get caught up on the website…details…you know."
Yeah, Dean knew. What happened between them last night was difficult enough to deal with without talking about it…but still…
"Yeah. But we are gonna talk about it…" he snatched up the Impala's keys and made for the suite's door. "Right after I've got us something to eat. I'll be back in a while."
"K." Sam kept his eyes down on the computer screen. It wasn't even powered up but he wasn't going to let on. He only looked up when Dean slammed the door shut behind him.
Sam sighed a deep long sigh of relief. Last night was taboo. Talking about it was, well, like doing it all over again. Last night. What the hell had been going through their minds?
Sam loved Dean, which was obvious. He was his brother, after all. And what they'd done, together, hadn't been brotherly. But damn it, it had been amazing. And that's what was hurting Sam the most. The burn he'd felt every time he'd been around Dean had got so overwhelming. The wanting. The needing.
Fuck! How could he talk to Dean about what had happened when he was glad they had…fucked…made love…what do you call it, anyway?
Sighing again, he pushed the laptop off his knees and got off the bed. Standing by the window, he could see Dean sat in the Impala in the parking lot. He looked like he was cussing up a storm, judging by how he was slamming at the steering wheel and pursing his lips.
Sam ran his thumb across his bottom lip which still stung from Dean's hard, almost brutal, kisses. The remembrance of the taste of his brother in his mouth sent a shiver down his spine.
Walking back to the bed they had shared last night, Sam lay down on his back and stared at the ceiling…and waited for Dean to come back so he could explain…
Dean swore again, slammed the steering wheel so hard his palm stung. Shit. He didn't want to eat. Food was the last thing he wanted. What he wanted – craved – was his brother.
He wanted Sam like nothing else in the world. Wanted Sam's hands all over his naked body, loving him the way only Sam could. Wanted Sam's mouth on his, kissing him.
Damn it…
Slamming the Impala's door behind him, Dean marched strait back to the apartment door and stormed through. "Dude, we ARE talking about this now…cause…cause…damn it…I can't do anything…"
"Dean, don't." Sam jumped off the bed, his voice pleading. "Let me just explain…"
"No Sammy. I need to explain…"
"Dean. Don't. I need to…you don't need…huh?"
Dean stood toe-to-toe with Sam, their gazes locked and intense. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…it shouldn't have…but…"
"I'm sorry…my fault…couldn't help myself…" Sam said at the same time.
"Dude, look…what happened…"
"Dean, I said, don't…" God, all Sam could focus on was Dean's lips as he spoke. The way his tongue flicked out to moisten them intermittedly. He wanted those lips on his, kissing him again.
"Sam…" Dean pleaded. Damn it, didn't Sam understand? He was having a hard enough time keeping his hands off him. "Sam…" Quieter. Softer.
"Dean…" Sam whispered back. Without realizing what was happening, his hand came up, fingertips stroking the remainder of Dean's black eye and the scratches below it.
"Sammy…" Almost too quiet to hear. But as their mouths met, words weren't needed any longer… His hands knotted in Sam's hair, tugging roughly as he kissed him.
"We shouldn't…be…" Sam tried to talk, but his legs felt as they were going to buckle. "We should stop…"
"Shhhhh, Sammy…its ok…" Dean's stomach tangled with need. Hell if it was right or not…they needed this…needed each other. No one understood them the way they understood each other. No one else ever would. All they had was each other.
As they fell, naked, entwined, into the small double bed – the very one that had encouraged them last night…both felt they had all they needed, right there…each other…forever…
The End.