Crossover: Walk in Shadow, Move in Silence [Part 2/3] (Supernatural X Men in Black)
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PART TWO
It's a Tuesday, 3:07 p.m., and Dean Winchester has been dead for nearly three years. He takes a sip from his coffee (shitty as ever, but what can you expect when it's brewed by a bunch of worms?) and wipes his mouth with the back of a black suit sleeve before checking his watch. Dean Winchester may be long gone, but Agent D is alive and kicking, with a workaholic partner and only 23 minutes to himself for the next seven days.
Men in Black agents are allotted 30 minutes a week to pretend they're still real people. It's not much of a consolation prize, but it's both the least and the most the government can do for them. It's not like it's hard to understand why Men in Black have to be invisible.
Most agents, the ones who joined the MiB because they had nothing left to lose, pass on this luxury altogether. Dean's never seen J come to the Civilian Surveillance Lab for any reason other than to pull him out. The rest of them, sorry bastards like Dean who don't know how to let go, come in every morning and watch their families for five minutes a day-just long enough to know they're safe. Not Dean. He doesn't have to check on Sam to make sure he's okay, so he doesn't pretend he does this for Sam. He likes to horde all his time, sit down once a week on Tuesdays at 3 because that's when all the other agents are on duty and he'll get the room to himself. It's shady-no two ways about it-but that's never stopped Dean before, and it certainly won't now that it’s the only way he gets to see his brother.
Thirty minutes is an unbearably short amount of time, but the torture goes on too long. He waits all week for Tuesday afternoon and spends the entire time he's watching Sam alternating between jealousy, self-loathing, and the most pathetic brand of sadness imaginable.
Now he presses his fingers lightly against the screen, feeling the cold, smooth surface, and lets out a low sigh. Sam's got a girlfriend. Maybe. Or something like a girlfriend. Dean's never known his little brother to be into anything but dick, but then, what does Dean really know about Sam anymore?
What he does know is that every Tuesday, Sam sits out in the California sun and studies, then walks to his 3:15 class. It's the fourth week in a row that Sam gets distracted from his reading because a tall, outrageously hot blonde throws herself down on top of his books, forcing him to pay attention to her instead. Sam always gives her the same smile-trying to be annoyed, way too fond to manage it-that he used to give Dean for this kind of shit.
"Strap on a gun or four and turn off stalker TV." Dean sees J sit down in the stool to his right out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn't take his attention off Sam. "Time to hit the road."
"I've still got 20 minutes," Dean says, consulting his watch again. "Go confiscate space plants or whatever you do for fun."
J laughs quietly at that and looks at the screen for a few seconds, which feels like enough of an intrusion that Dean would rather just turn it off and go.
"Did Sam get a girlfriend or something?" They both watch as Sam pulls her up by one hand and begins to walk toward the building his class is in, their shoulders pressed together with no space between them. J whistles. "Nicely done."
Dean does switch the monitor off then, turning to face his partner. "What the hell do you want, man? I'm on break."
"You can take the rest of your break next week-"
"The minutes don't rollover," Dean reminds him.
"Oh, now your ass is schooling me on MiB protocol. Can't remember the rules for shit when we're arresting aliens, but you've memorized the book on how to take a break."
"What do you want?" Dean asks again, putting a stress on every word.
J lets out a long breath. "Look, I need to talk to you. It's…kind of important."
"I'm all ears," Dean says.
"You wanna have this conversation here?" J asks, looking around the lab.
Dean shrugs. "Nobody'll be coming in for at least the next hour. We've got privacy."
"This room makes me all kinds of uncomfortable," says J.
"No offence taken." Dean raises an eyebrow pointedly. "You had something to say?"
J coughs. "K is coming back to the Men in Black."
Dean feels a big smile break out on his face-half relief and half genuine excitement. He's wanted to meet K for years now. "That's great! I know you must be really excited."
J licks his lips and nods slowly, and that's when Dean finally realizes what J is trying so hard to break gently. J never really got used to the Men in Black without K, as much as he tries to hide it.
"Right," Dean says slowly, trying not to let his expression change. "So you guys are gonna be working together again."
"Look, D, it's-"
"No, man, come on. I get it. You worked with him for 20 years. Of course you're gonna wanna have his back."
"I do, yeah. Might fall and break his hip at his age. But it's not just that," J tells him, shifting to better catch Dean's eyes. "I've got a case for you."
"Can't work a case without a partner," Dean replies coolly. "A senior agent like you should know that. Why don't you and K take it?"
"It's a YED." J looks away and knocks his hand on the desk in front of him. "D, I think it's the one that killed your mom."
Dean's mouth drops open, and for a few seconds all he can do is gape. Finally he manages to collect himself enough to say, "That's a hell of a parting gift."
"You do need a new partner before you take something like this on."
He nearly laughs at that. Dean is practically vibrating with energy, and J is tripping him up on protocol. "I know, man, I'll go get one assigned right away."
J shakes his head. "You really think that's a good idea? You're still a junior agent, and you want to team up with someone fresh out of training, someone you won't get to pick for yourself and may not work well with, to take on something this huge?"
"Well, do you have any recommendations?" Dean asks.
There's a long period of quiet, and Dean watches J try to figure out how to phrase whatever he's about to suggest. Man, he hopes it's not Garth.
"I do know someone who has a lot of prior training fighting aliens. Someone I don't doubt you'll work well with."
"Great," Dean says. "Give me the name and I'm golden."
"You know the name," J says, sending a quick glance to the now-blank screen in front of Dean. "This was never going to be just your fight."
As soon as Dean catches J's drift, his hands curl into fists. "Sam's not a hunter anymore."
"I bet he'd be better than any of those trainees in a few hours. I've seen that kid fight."
"Not him. Not-he's not that kid anymore. He's never fought an alien in his life that he can remember and anyway it's not what he wants. He's happy now."
"He wouldn't be if he knew you were-"
"You don't know a thing about my brother," Dean says, standing and shoving J's shoulders. "Don't you dare try to tell me how he feels."
"I don't need to tell you," J says, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. "If you didn't know I was right, you wouldn't be so pissed right now."
Dean steps back, letting the fight drain out of him, but he gives J a cold look once he has himself under control again. "You know what, J? Why don't you save your good advice for your partner?"
_______________________________________________________________
"I hear you've Neuralyzed three partners in the last four months."
Dean looks up from the coffee he'd been staring into and sees that J has taken the seat across from him. He can't help smiling at his old partner, even though they haven't talked since they got in that fight over Sam. J's smirking like he's got Dean pegged, and maybe he does. For a couple of months Dean hated that, but by now he's just glad to see someone remembering he exists.
"I Neuralyzed two partners, thank you very much. Jo-" J gives Dean a scolding look, and Dean sighs. "Agent JB asked to be transferred to another partner because she read a file on my dad that pissed her off. Not my fault."
"Uh huh," J says. "And the other two?"
"Lisa-don't give me that look. She's not MiB anymore, so she gets to have a real name. And she asked me to Neuralyze her. Found out she was pregnant. Also not my fault." Dean shifts in his seat. "Probably."
"Agent G?"
Dean shrugs. "Garth was obnoxious."
"He was a good agent."
"I told them not to assign him to me. I did tell them." Dean bites his lip. "I guess they did run out of other options, but I tried warning them."
"So what's your plan now?" J asks.
"Waiting for my next assignment," Dean replies, swishing the coffee in his cup.
J clucks his tongue, and Dean can feel his leg shaking restlessly under the table, the way it always does when he's not on a case. "So you haven't reconsidered your response to my suggestion, then?"
"What, that I recruit Sam?" J nods, and Dean barks out a laugh. "You think the problem's that I haven't considered it enough? Man, it's all I fucking think about."
"And yet you're sitting here with no partner."
"J, he doesn't even know who I am, or how his parents died. What makes you think he'll follow me into some potentially life-threatening wild goose chase after aliens that he may or may not even believe exist?"
"You could, theoretically, de-Neuralyze him."
Dean winces, the guilty stab of shame and regret he feels every time he imagines it twisting in his gut. "He would hate me for what I did, if I let him remember. And I couldn't live with that."
J makes a face. "Yeah," he says, dragging the word out. "I'm not even touching that one."
"I know, I know, you told me so." Dean looks down at the table. "I can't regret it. It was to keep him safe. And he is safer this way-you know that."
J nods. "Alright, last thing I'm gonna send your way. Maybe you're just worried that working with you is the least safe place he could be?"
"I raised him. Alone for years before he left for college, and we were hunting then, too. Without the government backing us up." Dean tries to keep his temper in check. He doesn't want this to turn into the same fight as last time. J is his only friend, if he's being honest, but this is the one thing Dean has to be proud of. "He's alive because of me."
"Right." J stands up, patting him on the back. "Now you're starting to get it."
He walks off then, giving Dean a cocky wave. Agent K is standing a few feet away by the coffee machine chatting with the worms. He holds out a cup for J without looking away from his conversation and takes a sip from his own, making a disgusted face.
"This coffee tastes like dirt," he says, finishing the cup and tossing it in the garbage.
J does the same. "What do you expect? It was just ground this morning."
Dean chuckles to himself, watching as K tells 'slick' they've got a long day ahead of them. J rolls his eyes at the nickname and complains the whole way as he follows K out the door, but Dean can't deny there's a spring in his step that hadn't been there the last three years.
His chest aches, and he tries not to count back in his head to figure out exactly how long it's been since someone met his 'bitch' with the correct response.
_______________________________________________________________
"D?"
Dean finishes his drink, swallowing slowly and letting the burn clear his mind for the moments it takes to school his expression. When he looks up, Sam is standing directly in front of him, a quizzical half-smile on his face.
Dean really wants to kiss that stupid smile.
"Sam, right?" he says. His easy tone sounds remarkably convincing to his own ears, but he nearly loses it when Sam's smile widens, dimples and teeth taking over as his lips spread wide across his face.
"You remembered."
"So did you," Dean points out.
"Yeah, but…" Sam looks away for a few seconds before he meets Dean's eyes. "What brings you back to Palo Alto?"
"You, actually," he says. "You gonna be available to talk a little later?"
Sam laughs, but his expression gets darker. "You waited three years to come back for round two, and that's the best line you could come up with? I guess you haven't been working on your game this whole time."
Dean raises an eyebrow and says nothing.
"Okay, okay," he says, lifting his hands in surrender. "Sure, yeah. I get off in an hour. Should I be worried? You're not here to arrest me, are you G-man?"
Dean shakes his head. "Just want to talk."
"Talk," Sam says with a sly look. "I'll get you a water so you're in good condition to talk later."
He winks and walks off, tossing a towel over his shoulder, and Dean watches his ass, trying to remind himself it's off limits for…well, basically forever.
Once Sam gets off his shift, he takes the empty stool next to Dean and gives him a quick look over. "So," he says, licking his lips. "Never thought I'd see you again."
"Did you give it any thought at all?" Dean asks.
Sam looks down at the bar, his lips thinning. "Let's not pretend I played it cool, man. I thought I'd scared you away for a while. Not that I'd blame you."
"You didn't," Dean assures him. "Just been busy."
"Don't have to make excuses to me," Sam says, trying to laugh. "I know how one-night stands are supposed to work."
"You disappointed to see me, then?"
Sam's lips curl up in the corner and he shakes his head.
"Got somewhere a little more private we can have this conversation," says Dean after a short pause.
Sam nearly snorts. "You must think I'm really easy, huh?"
"You are really easy," Dean reminds him.
"I guess I can't really deny that to you." Sam stands up and inclines his head toward the exit. "Come on then."
They're hardly outside before Sam pushes Dean up against a brick wall and crowds in on him. "Want me to show you how easy I can be?"
He moves in even closer, one thigh slipping between Dean's legs, and suddenly his mouth is attached to Dean's neck, slowly sucking a line down his throat. "I know all kinds of places we can have a little privacy," he whispers. "Don't even have to wait for the walk home."
It takes all the self-control Dean can muster to push Sam to arm's length. "You've gotten a little more forward since the last time we met."
"You don't know how much I thought about you, about getting my mouth on you, since that night." Sam looks Dean in the eyes. "Can I suck you? Can't keep my hands off you long enough to get home. At least not the first time."
Dean shakes his head. "It's not a good idea."
Sam freezes and takes a few steps back, wiping his mouth. "Jesus, are you seeing somebody or-I'm sorry. I had no right to come onto you like that. I just assumed you were here for-"
Dean wants to bring up the blonde, let all his pent up jealousy out and ask Sam aren’t you seeing somebody?, but that would just make him look like the stalker he maybe kind of is, so instead he replies in a calm, even tone. "I'm here to talk to you, like I said."
There's no pretending Sam doesn't look disappointed, but he nods and starts walking, leading Dean back to the same apartment complex he'd lived in freshman year. He doesn't say anything for the rest of the walk home, and once they get to his apartment, he turns on the lights in the living room, then heads straight to the kitchen. "Want anything? A beer or-I can make you a sandwich?"
Dean shakes his head no, and Sam comes back out a short while later with a beer in hand, top already popped off. He takes a long sip and plops down on the couch, and Dean follows, making himself at home.
"What could you possibly have to say to me?" Sam asks after a long silence. "You made it pretty clear last time that you had no interest in talking, and I haven't seen you since. So…this is kind of weird."
"How do you feel about aliens?" He's usually a lot smoother than this on MiB business, but this whole thing with Sam is all kinds of impossible to navigate, and it kind of just falls out.
Sam huffs out a laugh. "And it just got weirder."
"That was a real question," Dean tells him. "How do you feel about aliens?"
"What, you mean, like, the concept of them?"
"Do you believe in them?"
He's expecting Sam to kick him out right then, because he knows what this sounds and looks like, and it sounds and looks crazy. But Sam's expression goes serious. "Why are you asking me that?"
"You've seen one," Dean says as he realizes it. "You've had an encounter."
Sam swallows hard, putting his beer on the coffee table in front of him and pulling a loose thread on his jeans. "Is that what he was?"
"What who was?" Dean asks. "Tell me about it."
"I thought I was crazy," Sam says. "We both did-Jess and I. But we both saw it. I would have checked myself in if she hadn't seen it."
"You need to tell me what you saw." Dean feels a lump of fear sitting heavy in his gut. A healthy dose of regret, too. If Sam's seen an alien in the last three years, then he wasn’t safer because Dean cleared his memories at all. He sent his brother into the battle without any knowledge of how to fight. Maybe J was right, maybe he should have come for Sam months ago. "Tell me everything."
"Our friend Brady," Sam says, his lips turning down. "He attacked her one night when she was over here waiting for me to get home from work. Then as soon as I got home he turned on me instead, kept demanding I tell him where something is. Didn't know what he was talking about, but he was holding Jess against the wall without touching her and when he turned to try to do it to me, I swear I saw his eyes turn yellow. I had no idea what it was. Thought it was a monster or something."
"They're powerful and, uh, one of the few species I've ever encountered that is, without exception, evil. So, monsters, yes. They are monsters." Dean weaves his fingers together, staring down at his hands. "How the hell did you get out of that alive?"
Sam laughs, shaking his head. "It was the weirdest thing. As soon as he turned on me something just…told me to get the salt. So I, like, leapt over the counter over there," Sam points to the half wall separating the living room from the kitchen, "and threw the whole bag on him. He turned into a cloud of black smoke and we haven't seen or heard anything about him since then."
"You were very lucky to survive," Dean tells him, but really he feels like he's the lucky one.
"Man, you don't have to tell me. I have no idea where it came from, either. One moment I was scared out of my fucking mind, next minute I'm springing into action." Sam rolls his eyes. "Jess said I was like Indiana Jones. So you missed out on that sexy display of manliness."
Dean laughs, which makes Sam grin like he used to when he brought home an A. After a few seconds, he gets back on track. "What was that thing? Some kind of demon, or-"
"That's one name for them," Dean says. "People call them Yellow Eyed Demons, but their real name is azazels."
"Azazels," Sam says slowly, like he's trying it out. "And they're aliens?"
"Yep," Dean confirms. "Very bad ones."
"And that's totally normal for you," Sam says, looking at Dean curiously. "Is that what you do for the government? You…learn about aliens? Chase down sorry bastards like me for information?"
Dean sits forward. "I do a lot for the government. A little learning, a little bit of gathering information from sorry bastards like you, a little regulating," he grins, "and on a good day, I find something evil like that demon of yours and I kill it."
"Did I…?" Sam shifts on the couch like the question makes him uncomfortable. "Did I kill Brady? I mean, I get that he was evil, but…he was our friend."
Dean shakes his head. "I wish they were that easy to kill. Salt hurts them, but it's nothing they don't recover from in a few seconds. He probably just took off because he'd lost the element of surprise."
Sam looks a little relieved, so Dean doesn't do him the favor of reminding him of all the things he has killed. Sam watches him for a while, then his expression changes, and Dean can't read it. "How did you know?"
"What?"
"You came here to talk about aliens," Sam reminds him. "You must have known I'd had some kind of encounter with one or you would never have come ba-" Sam's eyes widen. "Oh my god. When we-?" He covers his mouth with his hands. "Did you know he was going to come for me? Was that just business when we met last time?"
Dean raises an eyebrow. "You think the government pays me to have gay sex with people who might potentially one day meet an alien?"
"It's not a coincidence, though." Sam gives Dean a look that brooks no argument. "You know something about my past, don't you?"
"A little bit," Dean admits. "I know that your parents were both killed by the same thing that tried to kill you and Jess."
"And my memory?" Sam asks hopefully. "Do aliens have something to do with how I lost it?"
Well, technically, in a really long-winded sort of way. "Yes."
"And last time, you were here to…"
"To check up on you. Make sure you were safe and well-adjusted despite…the complications."
"So when you came home with me-that was just to get close to me?" Sam looks so disappointed it makes Dean want to cave and admit everything, but the truth wouldn't help much.
"I was only supposed to confirm you were okay. Wasn't even supposed to talk to you, let alone-"
"Fuck my brains out?" Sam offers.
Dean laughs. "Yeah. That."
"You didn't put up much of a fight."
"Not very good with self-restraint," Dean says, letting his eyes sweep over Sam. "And you were…very tempting."
Sam's lips tilt up again. "Is that why you're here now? You seemed surprised I'd met another alien, so I'm guessing this wasn't supposed to be about Brady."
"I'm here because I need a new partner." Dean relaxes back into the couch, trying to exude more confidence than he feels. "Someone who knows what it's like to lose everything to these bastards. Someone who wants to stop them so other people don't have to go through the same thing. You came to mind."
Sam's eyes dim. "Well, you've got the wrong guy. I don't remember what I've lost."
"Isn't that enough to fight for?" Dean asks. "You seemed pretty upset about it last time we-"
"I'm only upset about it when I'm around you," Sam snaps. "I never feel like I'm missing anything, because I wouldn't know what to miss. Not until I think of you." Dean frowns, but before he can say anything, Sam continues. "I don't know if that means I'm crazy. You're probably terrible at your job if you thought I was okay after how I acted last time. But I don't believe you that we never met. I can't believe you. Even if it makes no sense. I can't ignore this feeling. It's the only thing I feel."
"I'm no one to you," Dean tells him. "Whether we knew each other before or not."
Sam stands up. "I think you should leave."
Dean rises too, but he stays right where he is. "I think you should come with me when I do."
"Where?" Sam asks. "What are you even asking?"
"I'm on the trail of an azazel-a bad sonofabitch, Sam. It killed my parents. I think it killed yours, too. I need someone to help me. Someone smart. Someone who knows how to fight-" Dean holds his hand up to silence Sam as soon as his brother takes a step forward. "It doesn't matter if you know why you can or not. If a part of you didn't know how, you would be dead right now. I need someone who has a reason to fight, and more than anything, I need someone I can work with."
"You think that's me?" Sam challenges.
"I know that's you," Dean answers. "And I'll leave without you if you tell me you really don't want to be a part of this. If there isn't something inside of you itching for the fight, I'll go. You wanna be a lawyer and marry your girlfriend, fine."
"My girlfriend?" Sam asks.
"Jess," Dean says, finally unable to hold it in. "She's your girlfriend, right?"
"No, she's not." Sam gives Dean a weird look, like he's not sure why Dean cares, and Dean knows he's letting too much of himself show. "She was, for a few weeks. Didn't work out. She's my best friend now."
"Too bad," Dean says. "Why'd you guys break up?"
"Oh, come on," Sam replies, shooting Dean an annoyed glare. "You know why. I told you I haven't stopped thinking about you in the last three years. Gets to be a point where it feels pretty wrong trying to date people when you're hung up on some guy you don't know, but I couldn't reason you away."
"Maybe you shouldn't try," Dean replies wishing he could swallow the words as soon as they're out.
Sam's face changes then. It goes soft. "Why me, Dean?"
"My name's-"
"Your name is Dean," Sam tells him, kind but firm. "And we are not strangers. If you tell me there's a good reason I shouldn't know who you are, all I can do is hope that one day I can prove you wrong. And you're right about me, okay? I'm not a lawyer. I haven't wanted what I have here once since I woke up to it. It's just…it's what they told me I was here for. It's what another version of me must have wanted. I can't connect to that. I want to believe you that I'd be good at whatever you do. I want to fight with you. But I can't just drop everything I have for no reason. You need to tell me one honest thing. Why do you want it to be me?"
"Because I need you," Dean admits, staring at the floor so hard he might as well be saying it to his shoes instead of Sam. He swallows a lump and looks up into his brother's face. "I need you, Sammy."
Sam actually smiles at that. "Okay. Good enough. Just…let me tell Jess I'm leaving. She'll worry about-"
Dean cuts him off. "You can't tell her, Sam. That's, uh, that's kind of the rough thing about this gig. There are no goodbyes, no telling your loved ones what happens. She's gonna have to wonder, and you're not gonna be Sam Winchester anymore. You'd have to give up everything, including contact with Jess, and become Agent S."
"I don't care about that. I don't really know who Sam Winchester is, anyway," Sam says. "No reason Agent S is any worse. But I can't even leave her a note?"
Dean shakes his head. "It's not an easy life."
"This thing that killed my parents-you really think we can stop it?"
"I know we can," Dean replies.
"Do you think there's a way to get my memories back?"
Dean dodges his eyes away from Sam. "There's a whole universe of secrets out there. Crazier things could happen."
"I'll come, then." Sam tries his best not to laugh as he does a bad imitation of an alien voice. "Take me to your leader."
_______________________________________________________________
Sam is in and out of training in less than a week.
"Not a record," J reminds Dean for the millionth time as they watch Sam ace his endurance tests through a one-way mirror. J is sitting back in his favorite egg chair, trying to exude perfect confidence, and Dean wants to roll the damn thing over. "It only took me one day to beat out the competition."
"We had a very desperate bug situation on our hands and you only passed at all because I somehow managed to convince Zed you weren't an idiot."
Dean looks over at Agent K at the same time as J does. J's expression is annoyance and disbelief that his partner sold him out like that, and Dean just snorts with delight at the way K's bored, grumpy expression doesn't change at all in the face of J's indignation.
"I'll tell you what then," J says. "Next time, I'mma let your ass stay in the bug's stomach."
"That's the last one," O tells them, walking in with a clipboard tucked into the crook of her arm. "He's as qualified to be an agent as any of you lot." She hands Dean the clipboard, giving him a congratulatory smile and nod that are nearly impossible for Dean to really be sure he saw. "You can take these forms to HR for processing so that your new partner can become an official agent."
"Thank you, ma'am," Dean says, accepting the paperwork. "J, K, it's been real."
"Hey, man, congratulations on finally pulling your head outta your ass. Must have been rough with how far it was lodged in there."
Dean rolls his eyes at his former partner but ignores him for the most part, taking K's offered hand instead and shaking it. "Congratulations, son," K says. "Seems like S is going to make a fine agent."
"Understatement of the year," Dean says, giving K a good natured slap on the back. "We're gonna be cleaning the floor with you guys by the end of the month."
"Yeah, good luck with that." J says, not bothering to get up from his chair. Instead, he kicks out at Dean as he passes, and Dean takes advantage, catching J's foot and pulling him forward so he falls out of the egg chair. He hears a quick cry of surprise and maybe the first laughter K's ever let out in his presence as the door shuts behind him.
Sam's waiting in the next room, towel draped over his shoulders, his hair so wet with sweat it looks like he's just gone swimming.
Now is not a good time for boners, Dean reminds himself.
He looks confident but nervous, and Dean can't help smirking as Sam edges in, clearly trying to peek at the clipboard in Dean's hand. "How'd I do?"
"Eh," Dean says, playing it off.
Sam's expression falls. "Eh?"
Dean cuffs him with the clipboard and grins. "Don't worry, bitch. You nailed it. Nearly set an MiB record, except J was too annoying for anyone to want to sit through properly testing him."
Sam laughs, snapping at Dean with his wet towel in retaliation. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, jerk."
Dean looks back at him, sees the light in his brother's eyes and the big grin on his face, all this excitement Sam never felt for hunting shining through. How he manages not to kiss Sam right then and there is a mystery even to Dean.
_______________________________________________________________
Dean takes on a few smaller jobs to ease Sam back into hunting before they jump into the Yellow Eye case.
The first two are routine checks on some alien-owned businesses in the meat market district. Sam has the rulebook memorized within a week. Dean still doesn't know the majority of it; he lets Sam take the reins on the inspections since his brother is so determined to be meticulous about it. Dean didn't become an agent to check up on health and trade regulations-he's only into the job when it's about the fight, but watching Sam obsess over import limits makes his chest warm with all the same annoyance and fondness that he used to feel when Sam insisted on triple checking his homework no matter how many times Dad told him to clean his guns instead. He could watch it all day.
Between these jobs, Sam reads up on files and files full of alien types and weaknesses, learning the patterns and histories of the creatures they'll be more likely to have to hunt than give warnings to. Most of it is relearning things he already knows, of course, because Dad's journal was as good as any government file when it came time to learn how to hunt alien scum. Dean's just glad to see most of the parts of Sam he thought he'd killed are just buried somewhere in the back of Sam's mind.
Agent S is still Dean's little brother.
They take their first away job two weeks after Sam officially joins the ranks of the Men in Black. There's a Vermax outbreak in Minnesota, and it's a simple enough situation to ease Sam into field work with his training wheels on while still offering enough fight and hands-on experience that Dean will finally feel like they're getting something done.
"476," Sam says, his breath coming heavy. He doesn't bother stripping off any pieces of his suit once they get to their motel room, he just faceplants onto the first bed by the door and lies there. "I counted."
"And those were just the ones you shot," Dean reminds him, much more used to the exertion. He's not tired like Sam is-hell, he could go another round. He feels great, and it doesn't hurt that he gets to act superior because his little brother's all outta practice. "I probably shot, eh, twice as many."
"Bullshit, you did not," Sam says, hardly lifting his head off the mattress. "And you squealed like a stuck pig when that one climbed up your leg. You probably woulda peed yourself if I hadn't gotten it off you."
"I did no such thing."
With obvious effort, Sam rolls over onto his back so he can flail his arms in the air. "Help, help! They're like intergalactic rats, they're so icky! I hate rats."
"I know that's not supposed to be me," Dean tells him.
Sam just keeps going, shit-eating grin taking over. "Save me before I catch a space plague!'
"Oh, that is it," Dean growls, pouncing onto his brother and wrestling him down.
Sam puts up a modest fight, but he lets Dean pin him pretty quickly, which is when Dean realizes what an idiot he is.
Sam reaches up, sliding one hand behind each of Dean's ears and trying to draw him down for a kiss. This time, it's Dean who lets Sam win, at least until he's about an inch away from his brother. He can feel the hot air Sam lets out when he breathes and the accelerated pulse in each of the arms holding onto him. It excites Dean beyond belief, having his brother here like this, being able to feel all those signs that Sam is alive.
"Mmm," Sam says, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. "You're getting pretty hard down there, Agent."
"Jesus, Sa-S. Don't."
"Sam," Sam insists. "My name is Sam. You can bullshit with the Agent S crap all you want out there, but when it's just you and me and the door's closed I'm Sam. You're Dean. And I know you want me. Maybe not as much as I want you. Don't think it'd be possible for you to want me that much. But you want me."
Dean knows where he's coming from. He's spent the last three years only hearing his Men in Black name, worrying he'd really become one of the faceless suits he's been imitating. As much as he's enjoyed working with J, he never once in three years heard anyone call J by his real name. Dean is willing to bet J really is J in his own mind, that he never misses whoever he used to be. Dean's feared turning into that; he sure as hell doesn't want to do that to Sam.
But he can't fuck this up any worse than he already has. Sam is his brother, and Sam doesn't even know it, and that's on him. Dean's not stupid enough to believe Sam's never gonna find out. When he does, it'll be a miracle enough if he ever forgives Dean without complicating things with sex.
"This isn't…" Dean starts, but he stops and wipes a hand over his mouth, trying to buy enough time to think of something to say. "This isn't a good idea, Sam."
"I think it's my best idea yet." Sam arches his back just enough for Dean to feel his brother's dick rub against his leg. "C'mon, I remember that night we shared, Dean. Never had better sex than that, but I'm willing to try."
And the thing is, he has. Dean knows he has.
He sits up, rubbing his hand over his face to try and break the spell. "We're partners. That's it. Anything else is just asking for trouble."
"We hunt aliens, Dean," Sam points out. "Everything about our lives is asking for trouble."
"Well, not between you and me."
"I know we did it before," Sam tells him. "Is that why we stopped working together? Did something go wrong with us?"
Dean turns back to look at his brother over his shoulder. "What are you talking about?"
"We used to be partners, right?" Sam laughs. "I'm not an idiot just because I can't remember. I know how to read between the lines."
"You think you used to be MiB?"
"No," Sam replies. "But I know you and I have a history, and I know I've hunted, and I know we work like a fine-tuned machine. So. It's not the hardest puzzle in the world to put together."
"You know what your problem is?" Dean asks.
Sam shakes his head.
"You've always been too damn smart for your own good."
"That's not a real problem," he says. He gives Dean a hopeful smile. "Dean, whatever we lost, I wanna get it back. I-I can't remember it, but I can feel it. Every second we spend together is like poking at this giant suffocating hole inside me. It's been empty for as long as I can remember, and suddenly, you're there filling it up. Please."
Dean sticks to his guns. "Partners. It's not allowed."
"Oh, like you care about the rules."
"I care about this one. It exists for a reason. If we screw up our working relationship, we'll have to get new partners assigned or worse."
"Or worse." Sam laughs, and it's cruel. It cuts right through Dean. "I know what 'worse' means for an MiB, Dean. Neuralyzing. I've already gotten the worst you can dish out."
Dean rises from the bed, horrified that his brother's figured everything out, but Sam looks more scared than angry. "It's been pretty obvious since I learned the protocol. Whatever agent dealt with me after my parents died cleaned me out. And I know you hate them for it: I've seen it in your eyes every time I talk about my past. But I also trust that you wouldn't do what they did, and that we won't screw up what we have. We need each other. We can only be better together once we accept that."
"You're wrong, Sam. About a lot of things, and this is one of them. Agents can't fuck and keep working together. It's too goddamn much with the job."
"Oh, come on. You mean to tell me you don't think J and K ever-"
"Wow, please do not finish that sentence," Dean says, sticking his tongue out. "Ugh, too late. The mental picture's in there. Now I'm the one that needs to be Neuralyzed."
"Don't joke about that," Sam says. "You don't know what it's like."
"No one Neuralyzed you, Sam."
"Don't lie to me," Sam says. He gets up and marches to the bathroom. "You don't have to fuck me if you're so sure we can't work, but at least don't patronize me."
ON TO PART THREE
or
BACK TO MASTERPOST
PART TWO
It's a Tuesday, 3:07 p.m., and Dean Winchester has been dead for nearly three years. He takes a sip from his coffee (shitty as ever, but what can you expect when it's brewed by a bunch of worms?) and wipes his mouth with the back of a black suit sleeve before checking his watch. Dean Winchester may be long gone, but Agent D is alive and kicking, with a workaholic partner and only 23 minutes to himself for the next seven days.
Men in Black agents are allotted 30 minutes a week to pretend they're still real people. It's not much of a consolation prize, but it's both the least and the most the government can do for them. It's not like it's hard to understand why Men in Black have to be invisible.
Most agents, the ones who joined the MiB because they had nothing left to lose, pass on this luxury altogether. Dean's never seen J come to the Civilian Surveillance Lab for any reason other than to pull him out. The rest of them, sorry bastards like Dean who don't know how to let go, come in every morning and watch their families for five minutes a day-just long enough to know they're safe. Not Dean. He doesn't have to check on Sam to make sure he's okay, so he doesn't pretend he does this for Sam. He likes to horde all his time, sit down once a week on Tuesdays at 3 because that's when all the other agents are on duty and he'll get the room to himself. It's shady-no two ways about it-but that's never stopped Dean before, and it certainly won't now that it’s the only way he gets to see his brother.
Thirty minutes is an unbearably short amount of time, but the torture goes on too long. He waits all week for Tuesday afternoon and spends the entire time he's watching Sam alternating between jealousy, self-loathing, and the most pathetic brand of sadness imaginable.
Now he presses his fingers lightly against the screen, feeling the cold, smooth surface, and lets out a low sigh. Sam's got a girlfriend. Maybe. Or something like a girlfriend. Dean's never known his little brother to be into anything but dick, but then, what does Dean really know about Sam anymore?
What he does know is that every Tuesday, Sam sits out in the California sun and studies, then walks to his 3:15 class. It's the fourth week in a row that Sam gets distracted from his reading because a tall, outrageously hot blonde throws herself down on top of his books, forcing him to pay attention to her instead. Sam always gives her the same smile-trying to be annoyed, way too fond to manage it-that he used to give Dean for this kind of shit.
"Strap on a gun or four and turn off stalker TV." Dean sees J sit down in the stool to his right out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn't take his attention off Sam. "Time to hit the road."
"I've still got 20 minutes," Dean says, consulting his watch again. "Go confiscate space plants or whatever you do for fun."
J laughs quietly at that and looks at the screen for a few seconds, which feels like enough of an intrusion that Dean would rather just turn it off and go.
"Did Sam get a girlfriend or something?" They both watch as Sam pulls her up by one hand and begins to walk toward the building his class is in, their shoulders pressed together with no space between them. J whistles. "Nicely done."
Dean does switch the monitor off then, turning to face his partner. "What the hell do you want, man? I'm on break."
"You can take the rest of your break next week-"
"The minutes don't rollover," Dean reminds him.
"Oh, now your ass is schooling me on MiB protocol. Can't remember the rules for shit when we're arresting aliens, but you've memorized the book on how to take a break."
"What do you want?" Dean asks again, putting a stress on every word.
J lets out a long breath. "Look, I need to talk to you. It's…kind of important."
"I'm all ears," Dean says.
"You wanna have this conversation here?" J asks, looking around the lab.
Dean shrugs. "Nobody'll be coming in for at least the next hour. We've got privacy."
"This room makes me all kinds of uncomfortable," says J.
"No offence taken." Dean raises an eyebrow pointedly. "You had something to say?"
J coughs. "K is coming back to the Men in Black."
Dean feels a big smile break out on his face-half relief and half genuine excitement. He's wanted to meet K for years now. "That's great! I know you must be really excited."
J licks his lips and nods slowly, and that's when Dean finally realizes what J is trying so hard to break gently. J never really got used to the Men in Black without K, as much as he tries to hide it.
"Right," Dean says slowly, trying not to let his expression change. "So you guys are gonna be working together again."
"Look, D, it's-"
"No, man, come on. I get it. You worked with him for 20 years. Of course you're gonna wanna have his back."
"I do, yeah. Might fall and break his hip at his age. But it's not just that," J tells him, shifting to better catch Dean's eyes. "I've got a case for you."
"Can't work a case without a partner," Dean replies coolly. "A senior agent like you should know that. Why don't you and K take it?"
"It's a YED." J looks away and knocks his hand on the desk in front of him. "D, I think it's the one that killed your mom."
Dean's mouth drops open, and for a few seconds all he can do is gape. Finally he manages to collect himself enough to say, "That's a hell of a parting gift."
"You do need a new partner before you take something like this on."
He nearly laughs at that. Dean is practically vibrating with energy, and J is tripping him up on protocol. "I know, man, I'll go get one assigned right away."
J shakes his head. "You really think that's a good idea? You're still a junior agent, and you want to team up with someone fresh out of training, someone you won't get to pick for yourself and may not work well with, to take on something this huge?"
"Well, do you have any recommendations?" Dean asks.
There's a long period of quiet, and Dean watches J try to figure out how to phrase whatever he's about to suggest. Man, he hopes it's not Garth.
"I do know someone who has a lot of prior training fighting aliens. Someone I don't doubt you'll work well with."
"Great," Dean says. "Give me the name and I'm golden."
"You know the name," J says, sending a quick glance to the now-blank screen in front of Dean. "This was never going to be just your fight."
As soon as Dean catches J's drift, his hands curl into fists. "Sam's not a hunter anymore."
"I bet he'd be better than any of those trainees in a few hours. I've seen that kid fight."
"Not him. Not-he's not that kid anymore. He's never fought an alien in his life that he can remember and anyway it's not what he wants. He's happy now."
"He wouldn't be if he knew you were-"
"You don't know a thing about my brother," Dean says, standing and shoving J's shoulders. "Don't you dare try to tell me how he feels."
"I don't need to tell you," J says, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. "If you didn't know I was right, you wouldn't be so pissed right now."
Dean steps back, letting the fight drain out of him, but he gives J a cold look once he has himself under control again. "You know what, J? Why don't you save your good advice for your partner?"
_______________________________________________________________
"I hear you've Neuralyzed three partners in the last four months."
Dean looks up from the coffee he'd been staring into and sees that J has taken the seat across from him. He can't help smiling at his old partner, even though they haven't talked since they got in that fight over Sam. J's smirking like he's got Dean pegged, and maybe he does. For a couple of months Dean hated that, but by now he's just glad to see someone remembering he exists.
"I Neuralyzed two partners, thank you very much. Jo-" J gives Dean a scolding look, and Dean sighs. "Agent JB asked to be transferred to another partner because she read a file on my dad that pissed her off. Not my fault."
"Uh huh," J says. "And the other two?"
"Lisa-don't give me that look. She's not MiB anymore, so she gets to have a real name. And she asked me to Neuralyze her. Found out she was pregnant. Also not my fault." Dean shifts in his seat. "Probably."
"Agent G?"
Dean shrugs. "Garth was obnoxious."
"He was a good agent."
"I told them not to assign him to me. I did tell them." Dean bites his lip. "I guess they did run out of other options, but I tried warning them."
"So what's your plan now?" J asks.
"Waiting for my next assignment," Dean replies, swishing the coffee in his cup.
J clucks his tongue, and Dean can feel his leg shaking restlessly under the table, the way it always does when he's not on a case. "So you haven't reconsidered your response to my suggestion, then?"
"What, that I recruit Sam?" J nods, and Dean barks out a laugh. "You think the problem's that I haven't considered it enough? Man, it's all I fucking think about."
"And yet you're sitting here with no partner."
"J, he doesn't even know who I am, or how his parents died. What makes you think he'll follow me into some potentially life-threatening wild goose chase after aliens that he may or may not even believe exist?"
"You could, theoretically, de-Neuralyze him."
Dean winces, the guilty stab of shame and regret he feels every time he imagines it twisting in his gut. "He would hate me for what I did, if I let him remember. And I couldn't live with that."
J makes a face. "Yeah," he says, dragging the word out. "I'm not even touching that one."
"I know, I know, you told me so." Dean looks down at the table. "I can't regret it. It was to keep him safe. And he is safer this way-you know that."
J nods. "Alright, last thing I'm gonna send your way. Maybe you're just worried that working with you is the least safe place he could be?"
"I raised him. Alone for years before he left for college, and we were hunting then, too. Without the government backing us up." Dean tries to keep his temper in check. He doesn't want this to turn into the same fight as last time. J is his only friend, if he's being honest, but this is the one thing Dean has to be proud of. "He's alive because of me."
"Right." J stands up, patting him on the back. "Now you're starting to get it."
He walks off then, giving Dean a cocky wave. Agent K is standing a few feet away by the coffee machine chatting with the worms. He holds out a cup for J without looking away from his conversation and takes a sip from his own, making a disgusted face.
"This coffee tastes like dirt," he says, finishing the cup and tossing it in the garbage.
J does the same. "What do you expect? It was just ground this morning."
Dean chuckles to himself, watching as K tells 'slick' they've got a long day ahead of them. J rolls his eyes at the nickname and complains the whole way as he follows K out the door, but Dean can't deny there's a spring in his step that hadn't been there the last three years.
His chest aches, and he tries not to count back in his head to figure out exactly how long it's been since someone met his 'bitch' with the correct response.
_______________________________________________________________
"D?"
Dean finishes his drink, swallowing slowly and letting the burn clear his mind for the moments it takes to school his expression. When he looks up, Sam is standing directly in front of him, a quizzical half-smile on his face.
Dean really wants to kiss that stupid smile.
"Sam, right?" he says. His easy tone sounds remarkably convincing to his own ears, but he nearly loses it when Sam's smile widens, dimples and teeth taking over as his lips spread wide across his face.
"You remembered."
"So did you," Dean points out.
"Yeah, but…" Sam looks away for a few seconds before he meets Dean's eyes. "What brings you back to Palo Alto?"
"You, actually," he says. "You gonna be available to talk a little later?"
Sam laughs, but his expression gets darker. "You waited three years to come back for round two, and that's the best line you could come up with? I guess you haven't been working on your game this whole time."
Dean raises an eyebrow and says nothing.
"Okay, okay," he says, lifting his hands in surrender. "Sure, yeah. I get off in an hour. Should I be worried? You're not here to arrest me, are you G-man?"
Dean shakes his head. "Just want to talk."
"Talk," Sam says with a sly look. "I'll get you a water so you're in good condition to talk later."
He winks and walks off, tossing a towel over his shoulder, and Dean watches his ass, trying to remind himself it's off limits for…well, basically forever.
Once Sam gets off his shift, he takes the empty stool next to Dean and gives him a quick look over. "So," he says, licking his lips. "Never thought I'd see you again."
"Did you give it any thought at all?" Dean asks.
Sam looks down at the bar, his lips thinning. "Let's not pretend I played it cool, man. I thought I'd scared you away for a while. Not that I'd blame you."
"You didn't," Dean assures him. "Just been busy."
"Don't have to make excuses to me," Sam says, trying to laugh. "I know how one-night stands are supposed to work."
"You disappointed to see me, then?"
Sam's lips curl up in the corner and he shakes his head.
"Got somewhere a little more private we can have this conversation," says Dean after a short pause.
Sam nearly snorts. "You must think I'm really easy, huh?"
"You are really easy," Dean reminds him.
"I guess I can't really deny that to you." Sam stands up and inclines his head toward the exit. "Come on then."
They're hardly outside before Sam pushes Dean up against a brick wall and crowds in on him. "Want me to show you how easy I can be?"
He moves in even closer, one thigh slipping between Dean's legs, and suddenly his mouth is attached to Dean's neck, slowly sucking a line down his throat. "I know all kinds of places we can have a little privacy," he whispers. "Don't even have to wait for the walk home."
It takes all the self-control Dean can muster to push Sam to arm's length. "You've gotten a little more forward since the last time we met."
"You don't know how much I thought about you, about getting my mouth on you, since that night." Sam looks Dean in the eyes. "Can I suck you? Can't keep my hands off you long enough to get home. At least not the first time."
Dean shakes his head. "It's not a good idea."
Sam freezes and takes a few steps back, wiping his mouth. "Jesus, are you seeing somebody or-I'm sorry. I had no right to come onto you like that. I just assumed you were here for-"
Dean wants to bring up the blonde, let all his pent up jealousy out and ask Sam aren’t you seeing somebody?, but that would just make him look like the stalker he maybe kind of is, so instead he replies in a calm, even tone. "I'm here to talk to you, like I said."
There's no pretending Sam doesn't look disappointed, but he nods and starts walking, leading Dean back to the same apartment complex he'd lived in freshman year. He doesn't say anything for the rest of the walk home, and once they get to his apartment, he turns on the lights in the living room, then heads straight to the kitchen. "Want anything? A beer or-I can make you a sandwich?"
Dean shakes his head no, and Sam comes back out a short while later with a beer in hand, top already popped off. He takes a long sip and plops down on the couch, and Dean follows, making himself at home.
"What could you possibly have to say to me?" Sam asks after a long silence. "You made it pretty clear last time that you had no interest in talking, and I haven't seen you since. So…this is kind of weird."
"How do you feel about aliens?" He's usually a lot smoother than this on MiB business, but this whole thing with Sam is all kinds of impossible to navigate, and it kind of just falls out.
Sam huffs out a laugh. "And it just got weirder."
"That was a real question," Dean tells him. "How do you feel about aliens?"
"What, you mean, like, the concept of them?"
"Do you believe in them?"
He's expecting Sam to kick him out right then, because he knows what this sounds and looks like, and it sounds and looks crazy. But Sam's expression goes serious. "Why are you asking me that?"
"You've seen one," Dean says as he realizes it. "You've had an encounter."
Sam swallows hard, putting his beer on the coffee table in front of him and pulling a loose thread on his jeans. "Is that what he was?"
"What who was?" Dean asks. "Tell me about it."
"I thought I was crazy," Sam says. "We both did-Jess and I. But we both saw it. I would have checked myself in if she hadn't seen it."
"You need to tell me what you saw." Dean feels a lump of fear sitting heavy in his gut. A healthy dose of regret, too. If Sam's seen an alien in the last three years, then he wasn’t safer because Dean cleared his memories at all. He sent his brother into the battle without any knowledge of how to fight. Maybe J was right, maybe he should have come for Sam months ago. "Tell me everything."
"Our friend Brady," Sam says, his lips turning down. "He attacked her one night when she was over here waiting for me to get home from work. Then as soon as I got home he turned on me instead, kept demanding I tell him where something is. Didn't know what he was talking about, but he was holding Jess against the wall without touching her and when he turned to try to do it to me, I swear I saw his eyes turn yellow. I had no idea what it was. Thought it was a monster or something."
"They're powerful and, uh, one of the few species I've ever encountered that is, without exception, evil. So, monsters, yes. They are monsters." Dean weaves his fingers together, staring down at his hands. "How the hell did you get out of that alive?"
Sam laughs, shaking his head. "It was the weirdest thing. As soon as he turned on me something just…told me to get the salt. So I, like, leapt over the counter over there," Sam points to the half wall separating the living room from the kitchen, "and threw the whole bag on him. He turned into a cloud of black smoke and we haven't seen or heard anything about him since then."
"You were very lucky to survive," Dean tells him, but really he feels like he's the lucky one.
"Man, you don't have to tell me. I have no idea where it came from, either. One moment I was scared out of my fucking mind, next minute I'm springing into action." Sam rolls his eyes. "Jess said I was like Indiana Jones. So you missed out on that sexy display of manliness."
Dean laughs, which makes Sam grin like he used to when he brought home an A. After a few seconds, he gets back on track. "What was that thing? Some kind of demon, or-"
"That's one name for them," Dean says. "People call them Yellow Eyed Demons, but their real name is azazels."
"Azazels," Sam says slowly, like he's trying it out. "And they're aliens?"
"Yep," Dean confirms. "Very bad ones."
"And that's totally normal for you," Sam says, looking at Dean curiously. "Is that what you do for the government? You…learn about aliens? Chase down sorry bastards like me for information?"
Dean sits forward. "I do a lot for the government. A little learning, a little bit of gathering information from sorry bastards like you, a little regulating," he grins, "and on a good day, I find something evil like that demon of yours and I kill it."
"Did I…?" Sam shifts on the couch like the question makes him uncomfortable. "Did I kill Brady? I mean, I get that he was evil, but…he was our friend."
Dean shakes his head. "I wish they were that easy to kill. Salt hurts them, but it's nothing they don't recover from in a few seconds. He probably just took off because he'd lost the element of surprise."
Sam looks a little relieved, so Dean doesn't do him the favor of reminding him of all the things he has killed. Sam watches him for a while, then his expression changes, and Dean can't read it. "How did you know?"
"What?"
"You came here to talk about aliens," Sam reminds him. "You must have known I'd had some kind of encounter with one or you would never have come ba-" Sam's eyes widen. "Oh my god. When we-?" He covers his mouth with his hands. "Did you know he was going to come for me? Was that just business when we met last time?"
Dean raises an eyebrow. "You think the government pays me to have gay sex with people who might potentially one day meet an alien?"
"It's not a coincidence, though." Sam gives Dean a look that brooks no argument. "You know something about my past, don't you?"
"A little bit," Dean admits. "I know that your parents were both killed by the same thing that tried to kill you and Jess."
"And my memory?" Sam asks hopefully. "Do aliens have something to do with how I lost it?"
Well, technically, in a really long-winded sort of way. "Yes."
"And last time, you were here to…"
"To check up on you. Make sure you were safe and well-adjusted despite…the complications."
"So when you came home with me-that was just to get close to me?" Sam looks so disappointed it makes Dean want to cave and admit everything, but the truth wouldn't help much.
"I was only supposed to confirm you were okay. Wasn't even supposed to talk to you, let alone-"
"Fuck my brains out?" Sam offers.
Dean laughs. "Yeah. That."
"You didn't put up much of a fight."
"Not very good with self-restraint," Dean says, letting his eyes sweep over Sam. "And you were…very tempting."
Sam's lips tilt up again. "Is that why you're here now? You seemed surprised I'd met another alien, so I'm guessing this wasn't supposed to be about Brady."
"I'm here because I need a new partner." Dean relaxes back into the couch, trying to exude more confidence than he feels. "Someone who knows what it's like to lose everything to these bastards. Someone who wants to stop them so other people don't have to go through the same thing. You came to mind."
Sam's eyes dim. "Well, you've got the wrong guy. I don't remember what I've lost."
"Isn't that enough to fight for?" Dean asks. "You seemed pretty upset about it last time we-"
"I'm only upset about it when I'm around you," Sam snaps. "I never feel like I'm missing anything, because I wouldn't know what to miss. Not until I think of you." Dean frowns, but before he can say anything, Sam continues. "I don't know if that means I'm crazy. You're probably terrible at your job if you thought I was okay after how I acted last time. But I don't believe you that we never met. I can't believe you. Even if it makes no sense. I can't ignore this feeling. It's the only thing I feel."
"I'm no one to you," Dean tells him. "Whether we knew each other before or not."
Sam stands up. "I think you should leave."
Dean rises too, but he stays right where he is. "I think you should come with me when I do."
"Where?" Sam asks. "What are you even asking?"
"I'm on the trail of an azazel-a bad sonofabitch, Sam. It killed my parents. I think it killed yours, too. I need someone to help me. Someone smart. Someone who knows how to fight-" Dean holds his hand up to silence Sam as soon as his brother takes a step forward. "It doesn't matter if you know why you can or not. If a part of you didn't know how, you would be dead right now. I need someone who has a reason to fight, and more than anything, I need someone I can work with."
"You think that's me?" Sam challenges.
"I know that's you," Dean answers. "And I'll leave without you if you tell me you really don't want to be a part of this. If there isn't something inside of you itching for the fight, I'll go. You wanna be a lawyer and marry your girlfriend, fine."
"My girlfriend?" Sam asks.
"Jess," Dean says, finally unable to hold it in. "She's your girlfriend, right?"
"No, she's not." Sam gives Dean a weird look, like he's not sure why Dean cares, and Dean knows he's letting too much of himself show. "She was, for a few weeks. Didn't work out. She's my best friend now."
"Too bad," Dean says. "Why'd you guys break up?"
"Oh, come on," Sam replies, shooting Dean an annoyed glare. "You know why. I told you I haven't stopped thinking about you in the last three years. Gets to be a point where it feels pretty wrong trying to date people when you're hung up on some guy you don't know, but I couldn't reason you away."
"Maybe you shouldn't try," Dean replies wishing he could swallow the words as soon as they're out.
Sam's face changes then. It goes soft. "Why me, Dean?"
"My name's-"
"Your name is Dean," Sam tells him, kind but firm. "And we are not strangers. If you tell me there's a good reason I shouldn't know who you are, all I can do is hope that one day I can prove you wrong. And you're right about me, okay? I'm not a lawyer. I haven't wanted what I have here once since I woke up to it. It's just…it's what they told me I was here for. It's what another version of me must have wanted. I can't connect to that. I want to believe you that I'd be good at whatever you do. I want to fight with you. But I can't just drop everything I have for no reason. You need to tell me one honest thing. Why do you want it to be me?"
"Because I need you," Dean admits, staring at the floor so hard he might as well be saying it to his shoes instead of Sam. He swallows a lump and looks up into his brother's face. "I need you, Sammy."
Sam actually smiles at that. "Okay. Good enough. Just…let me tell Jess I'm leaving. She'll worry about-"
Dean cuts him off. "You can't tell her, Sam. That's, uh, that's kind of the rough thing about this gig. There are no goodbyes, no telling your loved ones what happens. She's gonna have to wonder, and you're not gonna be Sam Winchester anymore. You'd have to give up everything, including contact with Jess, and become Agent S."
"I don't care about that. I don't really know who Sam Winchester is, anyway," Sam says. "No reason Agent S is any worse. But I can't even leave her a note?"
Dean shakes his head. "It's not an easy life."
"This thing that killed my parents-you really think we can stop it?"
"I know we can," Dean replies.
"Do you think there's a way to get my memories back?"
Dean dodges his eyes away from Sam. "There's a whole universe of secrets out there. Crazier things could happen."
"I'll come, then." Sam tries his best not to laugh as he does a bad imitation of an alien voice. "Take me to your leader."
_______________________________________________________________
Sam is in and out of training in less than a week.
"Not a record," J reminds Dean for the millionth time as they watch Sam ace his endurance tests through a one-way mirror. J is sitting back in his favorite egg chair, trying to exude perfect confidence, and Dean wants to roll the damn thing over. "It only took me one day to beat out the competition."
"We had a very desperate bug situation on our hands and you only passed at all because I somehow managed to convince Zed you weren't an idiot."
Dean looks over at Agent K at the same time as J does. J's expression is annoyance and disbelief that his partner sold him out like that, and Dean just snorts with delight at the way K's bored, grumpy expression doesn't change at all in the face of J's indignation.
"I'll tell you what then," J says. "Next time, I'mma let your ass stay in the bug's stomach."
"That's the last one," O tells them, walking in with a clipboard tucked into the crook of her arm. "He's as qualified to be an agent as any of you lot." She hands Dean the clipboard, giving him a congratulatory smile and nod that are nearly impossible for Dean to really be sure he saw. "You can take these forms to HR for processing so that your new partner can become an official agent."
"Thank you, ma'am," Dean says, accepting the paperwork. "J, K, it's been real."
"Hey, man, congratulations on finally pulling your head outta your ass. Must have been rough with how far it was lodged in there."
Dean rolls his eyes at his former partner but ignores him for the most part, taking K's offered hand instead and shaking it. "Congratulations, son," K says. "Seems like S is going to make a fine agent."
"Understatement of the year," Dean says, giving K a good natured slap on the back. "We're gonna be cleaning the floor with you guys by the end of the month."
"Yeah, good luck with that." J says, not bothering to get up from his chair. Instead, he kicks out at Dean as he passes, and Dean takes advantage, catching J's foot and pulling him forward so he falls out of the egg chair. He hears a quick cry of surprise and maybe the first laughter K's ever let out in his presence as the door shuts behind him.
Sam's waiting in the next room, towel draped over his shoulders, his hair so wet with sweat it looks like he's just gone swimming.
Now is not a good time for boners, Dean reminds himself.
He looks confident but nervous, and Dean can't help smirking as Sam edges in, clearly trying to peek at the clipboard in Dean's hand. "How'd I do?"
"Eh," Dean says, playing it off.
Sam's expression falls. "Eh?"
Dean cuffs him with the clipboard and grins. "Don't worry, bitch. You nailed it. Nearly set an MiB record, except J was too annoying for anyone to want to sit through properly testing him."
Sam laughs, snapping at Dean with his wet towel in retaliation. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, jerk."
Dean looks back at him, sees the light in his brother's eyes and the big grin on his face, all this excitement Sam never felt for hunting shining through. How he manages not to kiss Sam right then and there is a mystery even to Dean.
_______________________________________________________________
Dean takes on a few smaller jobs to ease Sam back into hunting before they jump into the Yellow Eye case.
The first two are routine checks on some alien-owned businesses in the meat market district. Sam has the rulebook memorized within a week. Dean still doesn't know the majority of it; he lets Sam take the reins on the inspections since his brother is so determined to be meticulous about it. Dean didn't become an agent to check up on health and trade regulations-he's only into the job when it's about the fight, but watching Sam obsess over import limits makes his chest warm with all the same annoyance and fondness that he used to feel when Sam insisted on triple checking his homework no matter how many times Dad told him to clean his guns instead. He could watch it all day.
Between these jobs, Sam reads up on files and files full of alien types and weaknesses, learning the patterns and histories of the creatures they'll be more likely to have to hunt than give warnings to. Most of it is relearning things he already knows, of course, because Dad's journal was as good as any government file when it came time to learn how to hunt alien scum. Dean's just glad to see most of the parts of Sam he thought he'd killed are just buried somewhere in the back of Sam's mind.
Agent S is still Dean's little brother.
They take their first away job two weeks after Sam officially joins the ranks of the Men in Black. There's a Vermax outbreak in Minnesota, and it's a simple enough situation to ease Sam into field work with his training wheels on while still offering enough fight and hands-on experience that Dean will finally feel like they're getting something done.
"476," Sam says, his breath coming heavy. He doesn't bother stripping off any pieces of his suit once they get to their motel room, he just faceplants onto the first bed by the door and lies there. "I counted."
"And those were just the ones you shot," Dean reminds him, much more used to the exertion. He's not tired like Sam is-hell, he could go another round. He feels great, and it doesn't hurt that he gets to act superior because his little brother's all outta practice. "I probably shot, eh, twice as many."
"Bullshit, you did not," Sam says, hardly lifting his head off the mattress. "And you squealed like a stuck pig when that one climbed up your leg. You probably woulda peed yourself if I hadn't gotten it off you."
"I did no such thing."
With obvious effort, Sam rolls over onto his back so he can flail his arms in the air. "Help, help! They're like intergalactic rats, they're so icky! I hate rats."
"I know that's not supposed to be me," Dean tells him.
Sam just keeps going, shit-eating grin taking over. "Save me before I catch a space plague!'
"Oh, that is it," Dean growls, pouncing onto his brother and wrestling him down.
Sam puts up a modest fight, but he lets Dean pin him pretty quickly, which is when Dean realizes what an idiot he is.
Sam reaches up, sliding one hand behind each of Dean's ears and trying to draw him down for a kiss. This time, it's Dean who lets Sam win, at least until he's about an inch away from his brother. He can feel the hot air Sam lets out when he breathes and the accelerated pulse in each of the arms holding onto him. It excites Dean beyond belief, having his brother here like this, being able to feel all those signs that Sam is alive.
"Mmm," Sam says, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. "You're getting pretty hard down there, Agent."
"Jesus, Sa-S. Don't."
"Sam," Sam insists. "My name is Sam. You can bullshit with the Agent S crap all you want out there, but when it's just you and me and the door's closed I'm Sam. You're Dean. And I know you want me. Maybe not as much as I want you. Don't think it'd be possible for you to want me that much. But you want me."
Dean knows where he's coming from. He's spent the last three years only hearing his Men in Black name, worrying he'd really become one of the faceless suits he's been imitating. As much as he's enjoyed working with J, he never once in three years heard anyone call J by his real name. Dean is willing to bet J really is J in his own mind, that he never misses whoever he used to be. Dean's feared turning into that; he sure as hell doesn't want to do that to Sam.
But he can't fuck this up any worse than he already has. Sam is his brother, and Sam doesn't even know it, and that's on him. Dean's not stupid enough to believe Sam's never gonna find out. When he does, it'll be a miracle enough if he ever forgives Dean without complicating things with sex.
"This isn't…" Dean starts, but he stops and wipes a hand over his mouth, trying to buy enough time to think of something to say. "This isn't a good idea, Sam."
"I think it's my best idea yet." Sam arches his back just enough for Dean to feel his brother's dick rub against his leg. "C'mon, I remember that night we shared, Dean. Never had better sex than that, but I'm willing to try."
And the thing is, he has. Dean knows he has.
He sits up, rubbing his hand over his face to try and break the spell. "We're partners. That's it. Anything else is just asking for trouble."
"We hunt aliens, Dean," Sam points out. "Everything about our lives is asking for trouble."
"Well, not between you and me."
"I know we did it before," Sam tells him. "Is that why we stopped working together? Did something go wrong with us?"
Dean turns back to look at his brother over his shoulder. "What are you talking about?"
"We used to be partners, right?" Sam laughs. "I'm not an idiot just because I can't remember. I know how to read between the lines."
"You think you used to be MiB?"
"No," Sam replies. "But I know you and I have a history, and I know I've hunted, and I know we work like a fine-tuned machine. So. It's not the hardest puzzle in the world to put together."
"You know what your problem is?" Dean asks.
Sam shakes his head.
"You've always been too damn smart for your own good."
"That's not a real problem," he says. He gives Dean a hopeful smile. "Dean, whatever we lost, I wanna get it back. I-I can't remember it, but I can feel it. Every second we spend together is like poking at this giant suffocating hole inside me. It's been empty for as long as I can remember, and suddenly, you're there filling it up. Please."
Dean sticks to his guns. "Partners. It's not allowed."
"Oh, like you care about the rules."
"I care about this one. It exists for a reason. If we screw up our working relationship, we'll have to get new partners assigned or worse."
"Or worse." Sam laughs, and it's cruel. It cuts right through Dean. "I know what 'worse' means for an MiB, Dean. Neuralyzing. I've already gotten the worst you can dish out."
Dean rises from the bed, horrified that his brother's figured everything out, but Sam looks more scared than angry. "It's been pretty obvious since I learned the protocol. Whatever agent dealt with me after my parents died cleaned me out. And I know you hate them for it: I've seen it in your eyes every time I talk about my past. But I also trust that you wouldn't do what they did, and that we won't screw up what we have. We need each other. We can only be better together once we accept that."
"You're wrong, Sam. About a lot of things, and this is one of them. Agents can't fuck and keep working together. It's too goddamn much with the job."
"Oh, come on. You mean to tell me you don't think J and K ever-"
"Wow, please do not finish that sentence," Dean says, sticking his tongue out. "Ugh, too late. The mental picture's in there. Now I'm the one that needs to be Neuralyzed."
"Don't joke about that," Sam says. "You don't know what it's like."
"No one Neuralyzed you, Sam."
"Don't lie to me," Sam says. He gets up and marches to the bathroom. "You don't have to fuck me if you're so sure we can't work, but at least don't patronize me."
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