Chapter 9, Breaking the Rules
Don't own the characters, only the ideas.
WINCEST-DUH!
DEAN
He had felt Sam whole being stiffen when he had whispered they needed to talk, and Dean wanted to haul Sam up into an embrace and sooth him, like he did when Sam was small and had gotten scared during a thunderstorm.
Dean's mind is a pile of different thoughts, so cluttered they keep bumping into each other inside his brain. He has just fucked his little brother, and it was the best sex Dean has ever had in his whole life.
He feels disgust rear up in his mind and he pushes it down, because he wants to feel happy for a few fucking minutes, and he doesn't think that is too much to ask for. He knows he is has bought himself a one-way ticket to hell with his actions. He just doesn't want to care about it right this second.
He adjusted his position so he is lying face to face with Sam and he watches emotions flash across his brother's face over and over again. Fear, love, hurt, happiness, terror, desire, they are interchangeable, a constant collage of Sam's expressions.
Dean unthinkingly strokes Sam's cheek with his own hand, reveling in the warmth and stubbly softness of the other man.
Sam's voice comes out in a tentative warble, and it sounds almost alien to Dean. "What is it, Dean?"
It's a loaded question and Dean stumbles with how to answer it. So many things he wants-no needs to know, and he is suddenly shy and unsure of himself.
"How long-" comes out of Dean's lips first, but he doesn't even know how to finish the question, because he isn't positive he knows what he is asking. Or maybe he just doesn't want to know the answer. He can't really be sure. Dean tries to lie to himself a lot. It works sometimes.
He watches the miracle that is Sam's smile slowly spread out of his face and feels Sam's long fingers tracing into his own bicep. "I was sixteen when I realized it," Sam answers Dean, knowing what Dean wanted before even Dean himself knew.
Dean's brain registers shock, because Sam has just told him that he has felt this way for years. Sam had been dealing with this alone for all those years. His heart is filled with sorrow for the man he loves, the man he didn't' realize he loved so fucking much until a short smattering of weeks ago.
Dean nods into the pillow, his eyes never leaving Sam's, and he watches his brother through his new eyes, seeing the beauty, the kindness, and the unconditional love that just emanates off of Sam and Dean knows he is stupid for not having seen it sooner.
"Jess?" Dean asks Sam and ignores the spike of jealousy he feels towards the poor dead girl who had at least held a small piece of Sam's heart.
Sam sighs, and pain flashes across Sam's face as he leans forward to kiss Dean on the lips. "A poor substitute, I'm afraid," Sam whispers into Dean's mouth, and Dean feels the warmth that he now recognizes as pure love spread through every fiber of his being.
They lie staring at each other for several long minutes, the light in the room becoming more pronounced and Dean breaks the silence.
"Why now?" He asks Sam.
Sam's expression is confused, he doesn't really know what Dean is asking him for a minute. Suddenly a wave of understanding flows over his face and he gets that small, sexy, pure Sam smile that Dean already knows he lives and dies for.
"Butte," Sam says simply. "I wasn't sure, even then, but I thought I saw—" and he trails off, his eyes locked hopefully and helplessly to Deans.
Dean nods into the pillow again, answering Sam's own honesty with his own. "Yep, it was Butte for me," he admits.
Sam smile goes up another notch and Dean feels his own heart expand at the very sight of it. Sam waits a moment and speaks again.
"It was Adena when I knew for sure," he confides to Dean and Dean remembers. He knows now that he hid nothing from Sam, his very soul was an open book that only Sam could decipher.
Dean thinks over the past few weeks since Adena and catches Sam's eyes. "The past few weeks, even last night, you knew, and you were, what? Testing me?"
Sam chuckles and it vibrates through Dean but he won't be deterred, because he wants a fucking answer.
Sam's hand scrapes through Dean's hair and Dean shivers a bit but holds Sam's gaze pinned with his own. "Oh Dean," Sam says.
"Sam?" He bites it out like an angry question, but he isn't really angry, more curious that anything else.
"Yes Dean," Sam says, "The past few weeks, when I saw…when I knew how you were feeling, I went to great lengths to seduce you. And it wasn't easy, I might add, with you not looking at me, or touching me. I had to get very creative." Sam's eyes are shining into Dean's and Dean can't even work up an annoyed feeling at Sam, because he is just too happy in the moment.
They lay entwined for several more minutes, a comfortable silence between them, until Sam breaks into Dean's thoughts once again.
"Has it ever been like this…for you?" and Dean can't miss the hopeful edge to Sam's voice. He knows what Sam is asking, and he wants to give him what he needs.
He sighs and stares at Sam's mouth for a few seconds before answering, "Sam, nothing has come even close to this," gesturing his own hand between them.
Sam smiles again, and Dean dies a little more just watching him. Sam stares into Dean's eyes in a way that makes Dean happy and uncomfortable at the same moment.
"Me either," Sam says and leaves a lot of unspoken words in their wake.
Deans mind starts to rattle a bit and he finds himself saying things that he doesn't really want to say.
"Its not normal, this thing, Sammy," and he hates himself for saying it, but he needs Sam to know.
Sam shrugs and says, "Dean, I know. We aren't normal, we never have been. But I have loved you my whole life, been in love with you for more years than I even want to think about it, and I finally, FINALLY have you, in my arms, and in my heart and no matter what anyone thinks, says, or feels, I know its right."
Dean starts to look away but Sam grabs his face with his large hand, wrenching him Dean's jaw so he is forced to look in Sam's eyes. "Its not right for them, Dean. Those who don't know what it feels like to hunt or fight a monster. Those who weren't born to hunters, raised for battle. So, for them, yeah, it might be wrong. But for me, in my whole miserable fucking life, I have had ONE thing. You."
Dean wants to say something back, but Sam is rambling, clutching Deans jaw, a manic sheen in Sam's eyes as he keeps talking.
"You Dean. My brother, my savior, my true love. The man who went to hell for me because he couldn't stand the world without me. So, its fucked up and I see that part of it, but what you don't see is that, Dean, man, we are fucking soul mates. Every move we have ever made towards each other led us right to this moment, and I for one am completely, blissfully happy about it."
Dean absorbs Sam's words into his being, turns them over in his own mind, feeling the weight of truth that accompanied them. It takes him several long minutes of thinking, analyzing before he accepts that Sam has spoken for both of them. He doesn't know how to respond to Sam, so he falls back into his old easy pattern.
"Blissful, Sammy?" he teases, one eyebrow cocked as he smiles into Sam's eyes, "What kind of girly bullshit word is that to use to describe true fucking love?"
Sam's smile is so bright and so blinding , Dean many never see anything again, but he doesn't mind as Sam leans into him once more, planting that beautiful smile against Dean's lips.
"Shut up, jerk," he mutters into Dean's mouth and they are lost into each other once again.