Me, I'm not - Florida, 1999
Title: Florida, 1999
Verse: Me, I'm not.
Author: Lifeisticking
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Pg-13 or R
Words: Around 3200
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex
Summary: Sam is tired of the hunting life... and maybe it's just him, but it feels like he's looking at Dean with new eyes.
Note : Most Sam's POV, some of Dean's and John's.
Florida, June 1999 - Sam, age 16
Sam is tired.
Saving people, hunting things, that’s more John and Dean’s thing than his. Dean likes saving people and hunting things by his side, likes the thrill of pitching himself against monsters and saving his baby brother. His dad... is on something bordering a holy crusade.
His father turns a deaf ear when Sam talks about... pretty much anything not hunting-related, and in retaliation, he starts to protests about being uprooted all the time, says he’s NOT dropping out of school even if now he can, about how he wants to go to college.
That is, it’s either a deaf ear or one hell of a yelling match where a few things fly around - because of Sam’s uncontrolled telekinesis. Dean doesn’t get involved, generally just tries to placate him or lift his mood afterward, by cracking jokes or being the reasonable one - which is odd because Sam is generally the reasonable one. At least Dean acknowledges his desire to go to college and knows he wants more out of life... even encourages him. Dean is the only one that ever understands him; not his dad, not his classmates, not the teachers, not the school’s psychologists, not all those people who’re convinced he’s crazy.
Schizophrenic.
Them saying he's schizophrenic is just an excuse because they can't or won't recognize the truth, he knows that now. He doesn't even care when they pity him. His dad has to move him when they get too insistent about him seeing a psychiatrist; those annoying pompous bastards, as Dean would say. He went there once, when he was fourteen... He had kept quiet and hadn’t said a real word, only had answered menial questions and hadn’t talked to Dean, hadn’t acknowledged him at all. Dean had been pissed at the shrink during the session; he had made the things on the desk fly off of it.
The psychiatrist hadn’t shown he was scared and just closed the window, claiming it was the wind: people rationalized everything they could. He kept prodding but Sam hadn’t said a thing. The shrink had still jotted down things. Sam had gone out with a simple: ‘’Me, I’m not schizophrenic.’’ Dad had moved them the next week.
After a fight, Dad always left for a hunt, and even if he’s pissed, maybe BECAUSE he is pissed, it always worries Sam more, and Dean, by extension. Now, even if he’s not angry at him, John tends to leave for stretches as long as two weeks at a time, just leaving money with Sam to do with as he pleases, before returning and deciding whether to stay another two weeks or to pack up and go.
Dean still teases him about a lot of things, but he can’t say he’s a midget anymore. He’s all stretched out; and trying to fill his frame but it’s a slow process. No, instead Dean says if there’s a strong wind, he’ll be blown away - which, not true, and always earns what Dean calls the ‘’bitchface’’. Dean also calls him a girl for refusing to have short hair like Dad and Dean - he likes his curling around his neck just fine, thanks. But despite his teasing, and occasional bitching, Dean always cuts Sam’s hair when it gets too long, and never cuts it short.
He figures Dad is too busy on his crusade against the yellow-eyed demon to notice things like that; ever since Sam hit twelve, his dad has been leaving him alone to go hunt, and ever since Sam hit fourteen, his father drags him along sometimes as his back-up, but mostly still relegates him to research.
He mostly only drags Sam along to hunt on the weekends. Dean generally helping save both of their asses; he’s still pissed at Dean for throwing himself against him, making him tumble and hit his head against a headstone - sure his dad had thought it was the ghost, but still. It hurt like hell. Dean had been mostly repentant though. And bragging about saving his life once again.
Before, when he was younger, Sam was enthusiastic about all of it; saving people and hunting things seemed important, research was really fascinating because he didn’t have the monsters in his face most of the time, but ever since the death of William Harvelle, it changed - he now saw the other side of it, and losing his dad, or hell, maybe Dean, to those things seemed like a trade-off he wasn’t prepared to make.
Dean generally looks exhausted and translucent with sunken eyes whereas he generally appears solid, after holding down Ghosts and Poltergeists so they could burn the bones, pitting himself against the Werewolves so they wouldn’t hurt Sam, shielding him from Black Dogs and Ghouls and more... His dad probably had no idea how many times he owed his life to Dean.
He doesn’t owe anything to those people just because he knows about the supernatural; Dean calls him selfish. He’s right. Sam is starting to dream about a life without hunting; something more normal, like college.
He’s just grown more and more disillusioned about it since. They lost another ally in Bobby Singer, the old semi-retired hunter that he really liked, who lives in South Dakota; gruff, but caring, and with his perpetual trucker cap, living in the Salvage Yard he owns but with a million of books that Dean said was probably what paradise looked like for Sam. Bobby doesn’t agree with dad; can’t blame him, he doesn’t agree with his dad either. So Bobby had threatened John with a shotgun two years or so ago and they hadn’t been back and hadn’t talked since...
Dean, for his part, just wants his Sam with him, anyway he can get him. He likes saving people and hunting thing, and he doesn’t care that he doesn’t get recognition from John, he’s happy as long as he gets it from Sam. As Dean overlooks their fights, all he can think about is that sometimes he’d like to get rid of John so Sam wouldn’t have to fight with the man, and be an angry broody mess afterward. He wants Sam happy. He wants Sam with him permanently. He might call Sam selfish but... he’s selfish too.
It seems to Dean that John turns a blind eye to what Dean does, thinking it is Sam and his telekinesis at work again and again, which is something that can’t be discussed unless John Winchester is dead drunk. The man also turns a blind eye to his son’s supposed insanity and friendly hallucinations. Except Sam’s not insane and he’s very real, thank you very much, and his baby brother doesn’t control his telekinesis all that well...
---
It’s also in Florida that Sam and Dean kiss for the first time.
John had been gone for a week, coming back in another week or two, and it’s nearing the end of school and the return of the endless criss-crossing of the United States’ roads is coming near.
It’s a hot, boring day in the weekend, and even Sam had left his studying alone and crashed on the couch with Dean instead. They’re mostly just slouching there, watching bad daytime television and eyeing the box of rented movie tapes in the corner. Sam had been invited to what’s-her-name-Stacy-maybe’s pool party but he had politely declined.
Dean is pretty sure she’s crushing on him; keeps teasing him about it and to go get her tiger, with that wide smile that Sam is pretty sure means bullshit. He doesn’t like Stacy anyway; she bats her eyelashes and it’s creepy, flips her hair for no reasons, wears skirts so short he’s starting to doubt if she even wears underwear under there, and god, he really doesn’t want to know. She also ‘’accidentally’’ fell on his lap a few times, giggling.
Apparently, he’s cute. Even Dean says so, messing his hair like when he was a kid.
Crazy, but cute: Who cares if the new kid is crazy if he’s good enough to make out with anyway? That’s what Dean says he’s heard, which had made Sam shake his head, and prompted Dean to claim that ‘’Monsters, I get, but normal teenagers? Now they’re weird.’’
Which had earned him a swift slap behind the head, Sam grumbling; ‘’You were still a teenager, like, last year. I’m a teenager too, so shut up, and don’t compare me with those people.’’
The argument had devolved in Dean claiming they both never were normal teenagers and Dean mourning that he would never get laid and that Sam had the opportunity but didn’t get it; ‘’I mean, okay, the chick thinks you’re crazy, and just wants you for your supposedly-proportional dick, but that’s a good thing Sasquatch! Get what you can where you can, you might not get laid again for a while, so go for it!’’
‘’You’ve seen my dick, so shut up. I don’t want to get laid like that, alright, stop trying to live through me or something. By the way, will you quit following me in the bathroom when I’m the shower? I don’t care if you’re on the other side of the curtain, there are limits. Private time, doesn’t that mean anything to you?’’ Sam grumbled sarcastically, glaring at Dean.
So yeah, Dean had stuck to him like glue even in the bathroom, bathing together or so until his dad had deemed he could take a shower on his own when he was 10. At least Dean hadn’t followed him when he took a piss since he’d been old enough to use the toilet on his own, thank god.
It made for a crowded bathroom with Dean shaving while Sam showered and vice-versa; well, his dad just thought he took forever in there, but better than telling him Dean had to shower too. He wasn’t sure if Dean *had* to. But he did anyway.
‘’You don’t want to get laid Sammy!?’’ was the horrified response, Dean staring at him like he was even more of a freak (more than telekinetic with a ‘’hallucination’’ brother).
‘’Shut up asshole, I said not laid LIKE THAT. Not interested in Stacy or whatever her name is, man...I don’t even want to just kiss her, let alone get laid. I should’ve known that’s all you’d get from the conversation...’’ he answered, exasperated.
‘’Aww, Sammy is a little shy. Don’t worry, I’m sure your first kiss will be magical, princess.’’ Dean cooed, messing his hair again. Another unfortunate downside was that Sam couldn’t lie and say he had kissed anyone, because Dean was always with him. He didn’t even express enough interest in others to even want to kiss them.
‘’Who says I want to kiss anyone...’’ he muttered, colors on his cheek, moving away from where he had had his head against Dean’s chest, feeling the vibrations of his brother’s laugh and hearing his heartbeat.
So yeah, beside his right hand and what private time he *could* get, or humping the mattress when he was younger even if Dean was there - how embarrassing too, but he had only started to get self-conscious with Dean last year - Sam hadn’t expressed any interest in kissing and what followed for anyone. Well, almost no interest, and only for one person.
His self-consciousness was due to ... seeing Dean in a different light lately. He was still Dean, still brash and annoying, with beautiful eyes (not that he would ever tell), lean and strong, his protector, his caretaker. Short hair that tickled his nose when they hugged, since Sam was as tall as Dean and still growing, soft skin, freckles he wanted to count, maybe with his tongue... and there it was, this was probably the sort of things people didn’t notice or think about their brothers.
They probably didn’t spend as much time with them either; Dean and him cuddled in front of the TV even if Sam was 16, as they had been just now; They were always sharing a bed, despite a few embarrassing and memorable sticky situations; Always together, since forever. His Dean forever.
Dean grasped his brother by the shoulder to turn him around, unaware of his inner turmoil; ‘’Well, even I want to kiss someone. You know what, I probably could and nobody would even notice; I could kiss Angelina Jolie even!’’ Dean said with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Sam cracked a smile and answered teasingly; ‘’Well, yeah, they wouldn’t know so it would be very one-sided and boring, I think.’’ He paused. ‘’So yeah, anyone you want, but still alone.’’ He finished, feeling sad for the first time that he was the only one to see, hear and touch his brother. ‘’I’m sorry Dean.’’
Dean startled; ‘’What for, Sam?’’
Dean couldn’t be that oblivious, could he? Sam hesitated; ‘’You’re stuck here, stuck with me. I’m the only one who sees you, hears you, touches you...I’m sorry. It must get awfully lonely. I must get on your nerves a lot too... I never said how grateful I am that you’re there but...’’ he trailed off, unsure where he was going with all that.
Dean’s expression softened and he grabbed Sam into a long hug; ‘’How many times did I tell you Sam? No chick-flicks moments. I was just joking Sam, don’t get all mopey on me. Bitch. ‘’
Sam smiled in his brother’s shoulder; ‘’Jerk. You just started that rule, and you keep breaking it too, so fuck off. I love you too.’’ Was his answer, without any bite, and slightly muffled. And he meant it: He loved Dean, and if he had to kiss anyone... well, he’d kiss Dean, no competition there. And Dean loved him - he was pretty sure of that. Something clicked in his head.
When Sam backed away from the hug, he just held there and stared at Dean’s face. Because despite what seemed obvious, it was Sam who would back away in times like these, not Dean. Dean would probably stay there and hug him until the world fell apart if that’s what he thought his Sam needed. ‘’Don’t hate me...’’ Sam mumbled, before approaching and finally pressing his lips to Dean.
He was pleased and relieved when Dean tightened his hold on him and a hand moved to his neck, then slipping in his hair, lips parting and tongues slipping out tentatively to taste and join. Eyes closed, he returned the favor, moving his hands up, one stopping to fist into Dean’s t-shirt, and it ended too soon, Sam’s hair disheveled, and Dean’s always the same.
They panted, lack of air (could Dean even lack air?), the rest still mingling together due to their proximity, not a word exchanged, before Dean pushed him away gently. Sam, misinterpreting, smiled with hooded eyes and sought to bring Dean down with him on the couch with a lazy ‘’C’m’ere Dee’’ only to be faced with Dean’s dubious and hurt expression.
Dean was staring down at him; ‘’Why? Sammy? What the hell?’’ he choked out.
Sam didn’t let go of his hold on Dean’s shirt. ‘’Don’t complicate this. It’s because I love you, in all the ways. Not Stacy what’s-her-name, no girls, no boys, just MY Dean. It’s going to be you and me Dean, forever. This, us... I think it was always meant to be. Now, end of chick flick moment. Kiss me again, Dee.’’ He answered seriously, looking at him straight in the eyes.
It seemed to be enough for Dean, who lowered himself, and to Sam’s suddenly less-than-clear mind, it was the perfect fit, and the only fit that would work in his life, no matter how corny it sounded in his head. They clutched at each other, shoving clothes awkwardly, opening jeans and just rutting together to completion, embarrassingly quickly. ‘’Well, you were right, that first kiss was pretty damn magical, jerk.’’ Sam panted afterward, with a lazy smile. He snickered when Dean looked like a damn peacock under the praise and that he just had to get the last word with his usual ‘’Bitch.’’.
That was pretty much the start of their enriched relationship; that was how Sam saw it anyway, that it added another layer to what was already there. Not that it changed much... There wasn’t even an awkward post-orgasm, they had nuzzled each other, went for a shower then tumbled in bed together once again. It was just like always but Sam now had to be discreet since he didn’t want to be caught lifted against a locker making out with thin air, or seen by his father giving a quick peck to something the man couldn’t see. It was already bad that his father thought he was crazy, but if he was ‘’in love with a hallucination’’ too, it would probably push the limits of his dad, who would then have him interned in a psychiatric hospital.
It was surreal at times like these, and a sobering thought, to think nobody else could see Dean, because Dean was so very real to him: Holding things with his hands, touching him, acting as if he was corporeal, hell, sometimes he tried to eat (it didn’t work) and he showered and shaved, etc... Yet Sam had seen him go through things when he wanted to.
He had to be quiet on the nights when his father was home because Dean couldn’t keep his hands to himself, hands sliding down in his boxers to fit around the curve of his ass to grind together, or shoving down his boxers so Dean could get his hands around him and make him see stars. Not that he minded too much.
When John was gone though, Dean got a bit more adventurous. Sam knew what a blowjob was, had heard about it. He just hadn’t known it would be THIS good; Dean swallowing him down, Sam stopping himself from just taking what he wanted, his hand resting in Dean’s hair. It was wet, messy and heavenly. Reciprocating felt pretty damn good for his ego too.
He had had a really bad day the first time Dean proposed it to cheer him up, and he had choked on his sandwich in the cafeteria. Dean knew damn well nobody else could hear him, and liked to take advantage of it to tease Sam by talking dirty; which Dean really knew how to do, and he had NO idea where Dean had learned to talk like that...Surfing porn, probably.
It was just the two of them in Sam’s world, it was all he needed.
And when John noticed his son’s love-dazed expression, he gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and figured he might as well stay longer in Florida if it gave his son the chance to socialize with real people this time, and was glad he had a crush on a girl.
Next >
Verse: Me, I'm not.
Author: Lifeisticking
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: Pg-13 or R
Words: Around 3200
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex
Summary: Sam is tired of the hunting life... and maybe it's just him, but it feels like he's looking at Dean with new eyes.
Note : Most Sam's POV, some of Dean's and John's.
Florida, June 1999 - Sam, age 16
Sam is tired.
Saving people, hunting things, that’s more John and Dean’s thing than his. Dean likes saving people and hunting things by his side, likes the thrill of pitching himself against monsters and saving his baby brother. His dad... is on something bordering a holy crusade.
His father turns a deaf ear when Sam talks about... pretty much anything not hunting-related, and in retaliation, he starts to protests about being uprooted all the time, says he’s NOT dropping out of school even if now he can, about how he wants to go to college.
That is, it’s either a deaf ear or one hell of a yelling match where a few things fly around - because of Sam’s uncontrolled telekinesis. Dean doesn’t get involved, generally just tries to placate him or lift his mood afterward, by cracking jokes or being the reasonable one - which is odd because Sam is generally the reasonable one. At least Dean acknowledges his desire to go to college and knows he wants more out of life... even encourages him. Dean is the only one that ever understands him; not his dad, not his classmates, not the teachers, not the school’s psychologists, not all those people who’re convinced he’s crazy.
Schizophrenic.
Them saying he's schizophrenic is just an excuse because they can't or won't recognize the truth, he knows that now. He doesn't even care when they pity him. His dad has to move him when they get too insistent about him seeing a psychiatrist; those annoying pompous bastards, as Dean would say. He went there once, when he was fourteen... He had kept quiet and hadn’t said a real word, only had answered menial questions and hadn’t talked to Dean, hadn’t acknowledged him at all. Dean had been pissed at the shrink during the session; he had made the things on the desk fly off of it.
The psychiatrist hadn’t shown he was scared and just closed the window, claiming it was the wind: people rationalized everything they could. He kept prodding but Sam hadn’t said a thing. The shrink had still jotted down things. Sam had gone out with a simple: ‘’Me, I’m not schizophrenic.’’ Dad had moved them the next week.
After a fight, Dad always left for a hunt, and even if he’s pissed, maybe BECAUSE he is pissed, it always worries Sam more, and Dean, by extension. Now, even if he’s not angry at him, John tends to leave for stretches as long as two weeks at a time, just leaving money with Sam to do with as he pleases, before returning and deciding whether to stay another two weeks or to pack up and go.
Dean still teases him about a lot of things, but he can’t say he’s a midget anymore. He’s all stretched out; and trying to fill his frame but it’s a slow process. No, instead Dean says if there’s a strong wind, he’ll be blown away - which, not true, and always earns what Dean calls the ‘’bitchface’’. Dean also calls him a girl for refusing to have short hair like Dad and Dean - he likes his curling around his neck just fine, thanks. But despite his teasing, and occasional bitching, Dean always cuts Sam’s hair when it gets too long, and never cuts it short.
He figures Dad is too busy on his crusade against the yellow-eyed demon to notice things like that; ever since Sam hit twelve, his dad has been leaving him alone to go hunt, and ever since Sam hit fourteen, his father drags him along sometimes as his back-up, but mostly still relegates him to research.
He mostly only drags Sam along to hunt on the weekends. Dean generally helping save both of their asses; he’s still pissed at Dean for throwing himself against him, making him tumble and hit his head against a headstone - sure his dad had thought it was the ghost, but still. It hurt like hell. Dean had been mostly repentant though. And bragging about saving his life once again.
Before, when he was younger, Sam was enthusiastic about all of it; saving people and hunting things seemed important, research was really fascinating because he didn’t have the monsters in his face most of the time, but ever since the death of William Harvelle, it changed - he now saw the other side of it, and losing his dad, or hell, maybe Dean, to those things seemed like a trade-off he wasn’t prepared to make.
Dean generally looks exhausted and translucent with sunken eyes whereas he generally appears solid, after holding down Ghosts and Poltergeists so they could burn the bones, pitting himself against the Werewolves so they wouldn’t hurt Sam, shielding him from Black Dogs and Ghouls and more... His dad probably had no idea how many times he owed his life to Dean.
He doesn’t owe anything to those people just because he knows about the supernatural; Dean calls him selfish. He’s right. Sam is starting to dream about a life without hunting; something more normal, like college.
He’s just grown more and more disillusioned about it since. They lost another ally in Bobby Singer, the old semi-retired hunter that he really liked, who lives in South Dakota; gruff, but caring, and with his perpetual trucker cap, living in the Salvage Yard he owns but with a million of books that Dean said was probably what paradise looked like for Sam. Bobby doesn’t agree with dad; can’t blame him, he doesn’t agree with his dad either. So Bobby had threatened John with a shotgun two years or so ago and they hadn’t been back and hadn’t talked since...
Dean, for his part, just wants his Sam with him, anyway he can get him. He likes saving people and hunting thing, and he doesn’t care that he doesn’t get recognition from John, he’s happy as long as he gets it from Sam. As Dean overlooks their fights, all he can think about is that sometimes he’d like to get rid of John so Sam wouldn’t have to fight with the man, and be an angry broody mess afterward. He wants Sam happy. He wants Sam with him permanently. He might call Sam selfish but... he’s selfish too.
It seems to Dean that John turns a blind eye to what Dean does, thinking it is Sam and his telekinesis at work again and again, which is something that can’t be discussed unless John Winchester is dead drunk. The man also turns a blind eye to his son’s supposed insanity and friendly hallucinations. Except Sam’s not insane and he’s very real, thank you very much, and his baby brother doesn’t control his telekinesis all that well...
---
It’s also in Florida that Sam and Dean kiss for the first time.
John had been gone for a week, coming back in another week or two, and it’s nearing the end of school and the return of the endless criss-crossing of the United States’ roads is coming near.
It’s a hot, boring day in the weekend, and even Sam had left his studying alone and crashed on the couch with Dean instead. They’re mostly just slouching there, watching bad daytime television and eyeing the box of rented movie tapes in the corner. Sam had been invited to what’s-her-name-Stacy-maybe’s pool party but he had politely declined.
Dean is pretty sure she’s crushing on him; keeps teasing him about it and to go get her tiger, with that wide smile that Sam is pretty sure means bullshit. He doesn’t like Stacy anyway; she bats her eyelashes and it’s creepy, flips her hair for no reasons, wears skirts so short he’s starting to doubt if she even wears underwear under there, and god, he really doesn’t want to know. She also ‘’accidentally’’ fell on his lap a few times, giggling.
Apparently, he’s cute. Even Dean says so, messing his hair like when he was a kid.
Crazy, but cute: Who cares if the new kid is crazy if he’s good enough to make out with anyway? That’s what Dean says he’s heard, which had made Sam shake his head, and prompted Dean to claim that ‘’Monsters, I get, but normal teenagers? Now they’re weird.’’
Which had earned him a swift slap behind the head, Sam grumbling; ‘’You were still a teenager, like, last year. I’m a teenager too, so shut up, and don’t compare me with those people.’’
The argument had devolved in Dean claiming they both never were normal teenagers and Dean mourning that he would never get laid and that Sam had the opportunity but didn’t get it; ‘’I mean, okay, the chick thinks you’re crazy, and just wants you for your supposedly-proportional dick, but that’s a good thing Sasquatch! Get what you can where you can, you might not get laid again for a while, so go for it!’’
‘’You’ve seen my dick, so shut up. I don’t want to get laid like that, alright, stop trying to live through me or something. By the way, will you quit following me in the bathroom when I’m the shower? I don’t care if you’re on the other side of the curtain, there are limits. Private time, doesn’t that mean anything to you?’’ Sam grumbled sarcastically, glaring at Dean.
So yeah, Dean had stuck to him like glue even in the bathroom, bathing together or so until his dad had deemed he could take a shower on his own when he was 10. At least Dean hadn’t followed him when he took a piss since he’d been old enough to use the toilet on his own, thank god.
It made for a crowded bathroom with Dean shaving while Sam showered and vice-versa; well, his dad just thought he took forever in there, but better than telling him Dean had to shower too. He wasn’t sure if Dean *had* to. But he did anyway.
‘’You don’t want to get laid Sammy!?’’ was the horrified response, Dean staring at him like he was even more of a freak (more than telekinetic with a ‘’hallucination’’ brother).
‘’Shut up asshole, I said not laid LIKE THAT. Not interested in Stacy or whatever her name is, man...I don’t even want to just kiss her, let alone get laid. I should’ve known that’s all you’d get from the conversation...’’ he answered, exasperated.
‘’Aww, Sammy is a little shy. Don’t worry, I’m sure your first kiss will be magical, princess.’’ Dean cooed, messing his hair again. Another unfortunate downside was that Sam couldn’t lie and say he had kissed anyone, because Dean was always with him. He didn’t even express enough interest in others to even want to kiss them.
‘’Who says I want to kiss anyone...’’ he muttered, colors on his cheek, moving away from where he had had his head against Dean’s chest, feeling the vibrations of his brother’s laugh and hearing his heartbeat.
So yeah, beside his right hand and what private time he *could* get, or humping the mattress when he was younger even if Dean was there - how embarrassing too, but he had only started to get self-conscious with Dean last year - Sam hadn’t expressed any interest in kissing and what followed for anyone. Well, almost no interest, and only for one person.
His self-consciousness was due to ... seeing Dean in a different light lately. He was still Dean, still brash and annoying, with beautiful eyes (not that he would ever tell), lean and strong, his protector, his caretaker. Short hair that tickled his nose when they hugged, since Sam was as tall as Dean and still growing, soft skin, freckles he wanted to count, maybe with his tongue... and there it was, this was probably the sort of things people didn’t notice or think about their brothers.
They probably didn’t spend as much time with them either; Dean and him cuddled in front of the TV even if Sam was 16, as they had been just now; They were always sharing a bed, despite a few embarrassing and memorable sticky situations; Always together, since forever. His Dean forever.
Dean grasped his brother by the shoulder to turn him around, unaware of his inner turmoil; ‘’Well, even I want to kiss someone. You know what, I probably could and nobody would even notice; I could kiss Angelina Jolie even!’’ Dean said with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Sam cracked a smile and answered teasingly; ‘’Well, yeah, they wouldn’t know so it would be very one-sided and boring, I think.’’ He paused. ‘’So yeah, anyone you want, but still alone.’’ He finished, feeling sad for the first time that he was the only one to see, hear and touch his brother. ‘’I’m sorry Dean.’’
Dean startled; ‘’What for, Sam?’’
Dean couldn’t be that oblivious, could he? Sam hesitated; ‘’You’re stuck here, stuck with me. I’m the only one who sees you, hears you, touches you...I’m sorry. It must get awfully lonely. I must get on your nerves a lot too... I never said how grateful I am that you’re there but...’’ he trailed off, unsure where he was going with all that.
Dean’s expression softened and he grabbed Sam into a long hug; ‘’How many times did I tell you Sam? No chick-flicks moments. I was just joking Sam, don’t get all mopey on me. Bitch. ‘’
Sam smiled in his brother’s shoulder; ‘’Jerk. You just started that rule, and you keep breaking it too, so fuck off. I love you too.’’ Was his answer, without any bite, and slightly muffled. And he meant it: He loved Dean, and if he had to kiss anyone... well, he’d kiss Dean, no competition there. And Dean loved him - he was pretty sure of that. Something clicked in his head.
When Sam backed away from the hug, he just held there and stared at Dean’s face. Because despite what seemed obvious, it was Sam who would back away in times like these, not Dean. Dean would probably stay there and hug him until the world fell apart if that’s what he thought his Sam needed. ‘’Don’t hate me...’’ Sam mumbled, before approaching and finally pressing his lips to Dean.
He was pleased and relieved when Dean tightened his hold on him and a hand moved to his neck, then slipping in his hair, lips parting and tongues slipping out tentatively to taste and join. Eyes closed, he returned the favor, moving his hands up, one stopping to fist into Dean’s t-shirt, and it ended too soon, Sam’s hair disheveled, and Dean’s always the same.
They panted, lack of air (could Dean even lack air?), the rest still mingling together due to their proximity, not a word exchanged, before Dean pushed him away gently. Sam, misinterpreting, smiled with hooded eyes and sought to bring Dean down with him on the couch with a lazy ‘’C’m’ere Dee’’ only to be faced with Dean’s dubious and hurt expression.
Dean was staring down at him; ‘’Why? Sammy? What the hell?’’ he choked out.
Sam didn’t let go of his hold on Dean’s shirt. ‘’Don’t complicate this. It’s because I love you, in all the ways. Not Stacy what’s-her-name, no girls, no boys, just MY Dean. It’s going to be you and me Dean, forever. This, us... I think it was always meant to be. Now, end of chick flick moment. Kiss me again, Dee.’’ He answered seriously, looking at him straight in the eyes.
It seemed to be enough for Dean, who lowered himself, and to Sam’s suddenly less-than-clear mind, it was the perfect fit, and the only fit that would work in his life, no matter how corny it sounded in his head. They clutched at each other, shoving clothes awkwardly, opening jeans and just rutting together to completion, embarrassingly quickly. ‘’Well, you were right, that first kiss was pretty damn magical, jerk.’’ Sam panted afterward, with a lazy smile. He snickered when Dean looked like a damn peacock under the praise and that he just had to get the last word with his usual ‘’Bitch.’’.
That was pretty much the start of their enriched relationship; that was how Sam saw it anyway, that it added another layer to what was already there. Not that it changed much... There wasn’t even an awkward post-orgasm, they had nuzzled each other, went for a shower then tumbled in bed together once again. It was just like always but Sam now had to be discreet since he didn’t want to be caught lifted against a locker making out with thin air, or seen by his father giving a quick peck to something the man couldn’t see. It was already bad that his father thought he was crazy, but if he was ‘’in love with a hallucination’’ too, it would probably push the limits of his dad, who would then have him interned in a psychiatric hospital.
It was surreal at times like these, and a sobering thought, to think nobody else could see Dean, because Dean was so very real to him: Holding things with his hands, touching him, acting as if he was corporeal, hell, sometimes he tried to eat (it didn’t work) and he showered and shaved, etc... Yet Sam had seen him go through things when he wanted to.
He had to be quiet on the nights when his father was home because Dean couldn’t keep his hands to himself, hands sliding down in his boxers to fit around the curve of his ass to grind together, or shoving down his boxers so Dean could get his hands around him and make him see stars. Not that he minded too much.
When John was gone though, Dean got a bit more adventurous. Sam knew what a blowjob was, had heard about it. He just hadn’t known it would be THIS good; Dean swallowing him down, Sam stopping himself from just taking what he wanted, his hand resting in Dean’s hair. It was wet, messy and heavenly. Reciprocating felt pretty damn good for his ego too.
He had had a really bad day the first time Dean proposed it to cheer him up, and he had choked on his sandwich in the cafeteria. Dean knew damn well nobody else could hear him, and liked to take advantage of it to tease Sam by talking dirty; which Dean really knew how to do, and he had NO idea where Dean had learned to talk like that...Surfing porn, probably.
It was just the two of them in Sam’s world, it was all he needed.
And when John noticed his son’s love-dazed expression, he gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and figured he might as well stay longer in Florida if it gave his son the chance to socialize with real people this time, and was glad he had a crush on a girl.
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