[Slash] The Space Between You and Me - 3/9
Title: The Space Between You and Me
Author: anyothergirl415
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Words: ~40,000 (complete in 8 parts and an Epilogue)
Warnings: AU, Angst, Drama, Sex, Violence, H/C, minor character death
Summary: When Sam is fourteen years old his older brother leaves, giving up the life of a hunter. Ten years later they meet again by chance and everything changes. Dean's not the person Sam remembers and Sam's not quite ready to let someone in.
Author’s Notes: See the Master Post, there’s quite a few.
Master Post
“So follow my lead.”
“Sam.”
“Watch out for the left side.”
“Sam.”
“Don’t forget to throw the powder if you think it’s-“
“Sam!”
“What Dean? What?” Sam spins on him, arms flaring up with annoyance.
Dean watches the pistol in his hand fly up, flinching slightly as his finger tightens on the trigger just slightly, “I’ve done this before.” He rolls his eyes as the man’s forehead pulls together. Once upon a time Dean knew what every expression that crossed his brother face meant, now he can only hazard a guess as to what would to come next.
“Ten years ago,” Sam snaps, lips pursing together in a thin line. “Things change Dean, and the fact of the matter is, I’m better at this than you.”
Dean gapped at him like a fish, trying to come up with something to say that wouldn’t make him sound like an indignant teenager. “Alright, that’s fair, but you did already go over the plan three times at my place and twice in the car so… I think I’ve got it.”
Staring at him as if he were surprised Dean gave in so easily - which he probably was but this was hardly the time to have a fight, especially since it wasn’t only their lives in danger - Sam huffs a snort before continuing, “Fine. Just… yell my name if you need me.”
Snorting as he walks in the opposite direction of his brother, Dean rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath, “Yeah cause I was gonna yell for Santa Clause and see where that got me.”
The trees around him provide a fair amount of shadows to hide in and Dean looses sight of Sam, worry building in the pit of his stomach with every passing moment. He’d forgotten how much he hates this part, waiting for the creature to expose itself so they can attack. The heavy weight of the gun rests against his palm, cold and hauntingly familiar. For just a moment the life he once lived - the life he’d never intended to return to - slams back full force and he wants to drop the weapon and run as fast as possible in the opposite direction.
Then his brother is calling his name and he’s up, jumping over bushes - nearly tripping over a large root jutting out of the ground - and aiming down the barrel at the empty air around Sam. “Where is he Sam?”
“Ther-“ Sam manages to gasp before his body drops heavily to the ground.
“Shit,” Dean surges forward, trying to remember what to do now. After a moment he gives up and empties the clip into thin air until it connects with the creature. It drops to the ground and instantly becomes visible. Running over to ensure it’s dead, his eyes widen as he spots the bullet hole in the center of the creatures head. “Damn, look at that.”
“Dean!” Sam hollers, now that the creature is dead, the paralysis is gone and he pushes up from the ground and crosses quickly to his brother.
A triumphant grin paints Dean’s features and he gestures to the dead creature with the barrel of his gun. “Look at that shot Sam. Marksmen envy shots like that.”
“What the hell where you thinking? Did you forget about the powder? There could have been someone out here and you could have hit them!” Sam growls, shoving hard at Dean’s shoulder.
The color drains from Dean’s face and he stares at the place Sam’s hand had been seconds earlier. “A simple thank you would have sufficed.”
“Right, thank you for not killing anyone accidentally with your stupidity,” Sam spins from him and pushes through the forest in the direction the creature came from. “Come on. We have to find that girl, hopefully she’s still alive.”
Dean was frozen in his spot for a long moment, watching the retreating back of the man he could hardly believe was his brother. It felt as if someone had taken the puzzle that was his life and turned it upside down. Now Dean was left trying to straighten the pieces only Sam’s piece didn’t seem to fit anywhere.
“Are you coming?” Sam asks, halting in his steps and looking over his shoulder.
“Sure,” Dean swallows thickly and half jogs to catch up with him.
*
Five hours later and Dean’s past the point of exhaustion. They’d managed to locate the girl after a half hour of searching for the creature’s lair and fortunately she was still alive, though bleeding badly. Another half hour later and they were in the Impala, Dean cradling the unconscious woman in the back seat until they pulled up to the hospital. It had then been a blur of doctors and nurses, then policemen who wanted to know where they’d found her.
Dean had done most of the talking, since he did a good majority of the maintenance on the police vehicles and they all knew him. It was easy enough to explain that Sam was his brother visiting from out of town, that Dean had wanted to show him one of his favorite hiking trails and that they’d heard the girl screaming. He was even able to give them the location of the cave, though he’d explained that they found it empty except for the girl when they got there.
When they were finally allowed to leave, Dean could hardly keep his eyes open and he fell asleep against the passenger door on the drive back to his apartment, waking up to Sam shaking his shoulder softly. “Dean? We’re here.”
“What? Oh,” Dean looked out the window at the familiar building and turned to Sam slightly, hand curling around the door handle. “So… I guess you’ll be leaving now. Since the case is all wrapped up.”
“Yeah,” Sam nods, tightening his fists on the steering wheel and staring out the windshield. “Though I still need to get a check up on the car. Not sure how long it’ll be before I stop again.”
With a slight frown Dean shrugs his shoulder in his best, would be casual way. “Why don’t you bring it by the shop tomorrow? Don’t have a lot on the schedule, could get her in and out pretty quickly and you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”
“I don’t think…” Sam sighs, falling into silence for a few minutes. Just long enough for Dean to think that’s all he’s going to get, and he’s pushing open the door, climbing out before Sam says softly. “Eight o’clock okay?”
“I’ll be there,” Dean nods and shuts the door, barely holding off the wince when Sam revs the engine to life and guns it down the street. When Dean gets inside the clock says it’s after three in the morning and he groans, knowing he’s not likely to get much sleep even if he had the chance to sleep in.
*
“It’s just a slight shaking of the steering wheel when I go faster then sixty,” Sam rocks forward a little on the balls of his feet, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he watches Dean lift the hood of the Impala and prop it open. “The alignment’s been a little off since the crash I had last year.”
“You were in a crash?” Dean’s eyes widen a little and he steps back to look at the front bumper. There are a few minor scratches but nothing too major and he looks up at Sam questioningly. “What did you hit?”
“A zombie,” Sam says in a serious tone.
Dean considers him for a long moment before letting his head fall back and laughing loudly in amusement. “A zombie? An honest to God zombie?”
“An honest to God zombie,” Sam confirms and chuckles, leaning back against the workbench and kicking one ankle over the other. “Some wanna be witch raised her ex lover and thought they could spend together forever. Only turns out the ex lover had spent the entirety of his life being verbally abused by his family so he decided to get some revenge. Was not a pretty thing.”
“No, doesn’t sound like it,” Dean shook his head, heart warming at the amusement dancing along his brother’s features. It was good to see an emotion cross his face that wasn’t negative and he wishes he could bask in it. But Sam’s smile fades after a minute of his continued gazing, and Dean turns to the car with a cough. “Well let me take a look, see what the damage is. You want to stick around? The office gets that wifi thing if you have your laptop.”
Sam glances over his shoulder at the large glass pane serving as a separator between the room and the garage, nodding for a moment before moving to the Impala and opening the back door to retrieve his laptop. “So this is your shop? I mean, the sign says Jerry’s but there’s not really anyone else…” Sam gestures to the empty area.
“Jerry’s the owner. I guess I’m more of the… manager?” Dean shrugs, leaning under the hood. “That basically translates to I do the physical work, run the things here, and he deals with the financial aspects. Best of both worlds if you ask me. And it’s Wednesday so only Danny’s coming in, ‘cept he’ll turn up around ten or so.”
“Do you like it?” Sam shifts the strap of his laptop case on his shoulder, going on when Dean pulls slightly back to look at him. “Working in a garage… I guess I’d never considered what you might do now… but this makes sense. So do you like it?”
Dean rubs his hands against his jeans, smearing grease along the denim. “Yeah. I do.” He nods and wets his lips, rubbing along his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s nice, having a steady job. I’ve worked here for seven years, lived in this town for about the same amount of time and it feels good.”
“You don’t get restless?” Sam asks as if he can’t fathom the idea of staying in one place for longer than a week.
With a soft chuckle Dean dips back under the hood, muffled voice answering a moment later. “Yeah, sometimes. But then I go fishing or on a weekend road trip, and the feeling’s gone. It’s nice to have a home, a life to come back too.”
“Must be,” Sam’s voice is cold once more and he turns from Dean and the Impala, crossing the garage in a few quick strides, before opening the office door and stepping inside.
Dean flinches at the sound of the door slamming shut. He knew the moment the words had left his mouth that he shouldn’t have said anything, at least not along this line. Being around Sam is like walking on eggshells, or however the saying goes, and Dean is nowhere near graceful enough for it.
*
“It looks like you have a balance problem. Probably happened when you hit…” Dean casts a quick look to Danny behind the counter and clears his throat. “Well anyway, the balance of your tires is way off. Good news is I can fix it without having to replace them, just have to use a spinning machine, find out where the heaviest part is and use a weight to make up the difference.”
“Great,” Sam looks genuinely relieved and cards a hand up through his hair. “So how long? How much?”
“Well uh, that’s the thing,” Dean shuffles his feet together and pulls the dark blue bandana from his back pocket, “The spinning machine’s been down for the past week, couldn’t schedule the appointment to get it fixed until tomorrow. I could try to replace your tires but I’ve only got one that will work for the Impala and there’s no sure way to know which tire would be the best to-“ He cut off as Sam continued to stare blankly at him.
“So what you’re saying is, my car won’t be ready until tomorrow?”
“Right. And don’t worry, I’ll only charge you for the weights, hardly anything at all,” Dean holds up his hand before Sam can protest. “Don’t worry, I’d cut the price for anyone, it should be a simple thing to fix and it’s our fault it can’t be done right away.”
Sam nods, gathering up his things. “Alright then I’ll come by tomorrow and pick it up.” He brushes past Dean and steps through the office door and out into the garage.
Dean lets him get halfway down the driveway before darting out the door and jogging after him. “Hey Sam? Do you have plans for dinner?”
Stopping and spinning around to face him, Sam smirks just slightly, “Oh yeah, big plans.”
With a snort Dean shook his head, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, “Do you want…” he cleared his throat, stopping and starting again. “Do you want to come by my place for dinner? I could make some steak, baked potatoes?”
“You can cook?” Sam arches a curious eyebrow.
“Best damn cook you’ll ever meet,” Dean scoffs and slips his hands into his back pocket. “So what do you say? I could swing by your motel and pick you up? Around seven?”
Sam considers the invitation quietly for a few moments and Dean tries not to get his hopes up. “Alright. Seven. I’m in room 118.”
Dean smiles and repeats, “Seven.” His eyes linger on Sam’s form as he goes, a flush crawling up his cheeks as his gaze shifts lower to watch the curve of Sam’s ass as he walks. A different sort of sinking feeling grows in the pity of his stomach and he turns back to the garage with a sigh.
*
Knocking on the door to Sam’s motel room makes him chuckle, like he’s about to go on some bizarre date with his estranged brother. Which is almost the truth although he’s sure Sam would be less than pleased to hear Dean refer to it as such. He’s still chuckling when Sam opens the door, though the noise shifts quickly to a cough as he takes in his brother’s shirtless chest. “Uh. Hi.”
“Come in,” Sam pulls the door back the rest of the way, leaving it open for Dean and crossing the room to his duffel bag. “Sorry, I was catching up on some sleep. Lost track of time.”
“Sleep is good,” Dean nods, remembering after a moment to step into the room and close the door behind him. He doesn’t like the way his heart rate has picked up, or how dry the inside of his mouth suddenly is. Clearing his throat, he forces his eyes from Sam’s chest and looks around the tackily decorated motel room. “Huh.”
“What?” Sam tugs a thin t-shirt over his head, combing his hand up through his hair.
Gesturing around the small room, Dean observes, “Could be any other motel room huh? In any other city?”
Sam fixes him with a steady gaze, surprisingly deep lines wrinkling the skin beside either eye. “Yeah. Could be. I’m ready.”
“Alright,” Dean turns and heads for the door, tugging it open and inhaling the cool night air sharply. It doesn’t make sense to him, why seeing his brother without a shirt seems to shake him to his center core, and he buries the thought for later reflection.
“A GTO?” Sam arches an eyebrow, watching Dean walk around to the driver’s side and pull open the door.
“Yeah? What’s wrong with that?” Dean meets his gaze, propping an arm on the roof of the car.
“It’s purple.” Sam states with a smirk.
“It’s dark blue.” Dean retorts, gesturing to the small light on the motel wall. “It’s just the light.”
“Dean, it’s totally purple.”
“Sam, it’s totally dark blue,” he scoffs, dragging out the world in his best sixteen year old girl impression. “Now get in before I leave your ass and eat the steaks all by myself.” Dean slides into the driver’s seat, a slight grin tugging at his lips as he reaches across the seat to pull up the lock on the passenger door.
“I still say it’s purple,” Sam mutters before dropping into the seat.
*
Dean had gone home over his lunch and set the steaks out. He’d also spent some time cleaning, though he’d never admit it out loud. The night before Sam had come for one soul purpose so a mess was alright because he’d hardly noticed. Tonight though, Sam was likely to be more curious and Dean didn’t want him thinking he was a complete slob. Though why that should matter Dean wasn’t sure.
“Did you clean?” Sam asks the minute they step in side and, really? Dean should have figured his brother would notice something so lame.
“Yeah, got a hot date,” Dean snorts and heads into the kitchen where the steaks are waiting. “Beer?” he offers, pulling open the fridge and grabbing one for Sam and himself plus the plate of waiting meat. “Here, grab that door for me, got a mini grill thing out on the balcony,” Dean gestures toward the patio door with the beer his in hand, flexing his fingers when Sam takes the bottle.
Stepping out onto the balcony to make room for Dean, Sam looks around at the view of the city, tops of houses lit by lights pouring out windows. Dean considers his brother for a moment before setting the plate and his beer on the table and begins work on lighting up the grill. “When we were younger I use to make up stories about different families we’d see in their houses when we drove through towns.” Sam says softly, tipping his beer back to take a full swig.
“Oh yeah? What sort of stories?” Dean tries not to seem too interested in what Sam might have to say. The idea of his brother opening up and sharing something with him made his heart quicken oddly, even if it was just some childhood memory stirred up by a wave of nostalgia.
Sam taps his fingertips along his beer, stepping forward to lean his forearms against the railing, bottle dangling from his hands. “I don’t know. Stories where the family only looked that happy and content through the window. Where once the light was out, or they were in another room, the truth was the father was an abusive asshole, the mother had drinking issues and the children were addicted to crack and killed the family dog.”
Moving very slowly, Dean turns to look at his brother with raised eyebrows, he wasn’t even sure what to say to something like that. “Wow Sam,” he clears his throat and turns back to the grill, poking at the coals at the bottom of the barbeque to spread out the heat. “That’s uh… hell, got to be honest here Sam, that’s a tad disturbing.”
His brother snorts and brings the bottle to his lips again. “Yeah I know. But I figured our family couldn’t be the only fucked up one. Had to be families worse then us out there.”
“Dude, killed the family dog?” Dean arches his eyebrow and half turns to him, forcing a chuckle because a tiny part of him is a little worried that his baby brother might try to stab him with an ice pick if he’s not careful. “Our family wasn’t nearly that messed up.”
“I know, I was going for extremes,” Sam shrugs as if the logic makes sense - which it doesn’t - but Dean doesn’t point it out. “I don’t do that now. No use.”
“Because now our family is that fucked up?” Dean slaps the steaks down on the metal cooking rack and grates his teeth.
Sam sighs and finishes his beer, dropping the bottle on the table and picking up Dean’s instead. “I’m that fucked up. Seems like you’ve got your shit figured out.”
“I have a job, place to live, sure,” Dean nods, suddenly uncomfortable with the complete turn in the conversation. He keeps his back to Sam and, thankfully, the discussion ends. Though Dean is sure the words will stick with him for the rest of his life.
*
“Well Dean, I have to admit, you’re a fairly decent cook,” Sam leans back against the chair, rubbing his stomach with a satisfied smirk.
Rising to retrieve another beer for him and his brother, Dean belches and chuckles. “I used to cook for you all the time.”
“Pouring me cereal and milk does not count,” Sam disagrees, taking the offered beer and staring at it curiously. “Dude, another one? Did you ever think you might have a drinking problem?”
Dean snorts and bypasses the kitchen chairs in favor of the large recliner in the living room. “Let’s not get started on who’s issues are the biggest.”
Shaking his head Sam rises to join him, popping the top of his beer and collapsing down onto the couch. He smacks his lips together for a moment before kicking his feet up on the table and sighing.
“Hey,” Dean reaches out and smacks along the sole of the shoe. “No shoes on the coffee table man, get some manners.”
Sam arches an eyebrow and scoffs, “Seriously?”
“Yeah seriously, this isn’t a frat house,” Dean huffs and falls back into his chair, sipping from the bottle in his hand before continuing. “So how’s-“
“If you’re going to ask about Dad, don’t,” Sam holds up a hand, shaking his head and leaning forward to prop his forearms on his thighs. “That’s not… open for discussion.” Another shake of his head and he reaches out to set the beer on the table. “Is that okay or should I use a coaster?”
“A coaster? What? Sam I’m not a fuckin’ girl,” he chokes on his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It’s actually okay that Sam doesn’t want to bring up their father, he’d rather not either but he figured it was the polite thing to do, to check in.
They fall into an awkward silence and Dean racks his brain for something to say, worry gnawing up in him when he sees Sam glance at his watch out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t want Sam to go yet, is actually terrified this will be the only chance he has to establish any sort of connection between them that might help in rebuilding their relationship. Or at least get them talking on the phone once a week. Dean wasn’t sure he could let go of Sam for a second time.
Dean use to dream about Sam every night when he first left and on more than one occasion he’d been halfway back to the last place he’d seen his father and brother before hopping off whatever bus or truck he’d hitched a ride on. Dean could never go back to that life, to the hunting and constant moving, to the way his father could never see the damage he was inflicting on both his sons.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Sam asks.
The question is innocent enough, even logical, but Dean can feel the heat rush up his system, coloring his cheeks slightly. It wasn’t until after Dean left his family that he learned certain facts about himself, his preference for men being the major one. It isn’t something Dean really wants to discuss with his brother now. “No.”
Sam seems to sense the finality in the word and asks no more. Or he just doesn’t really care. Dean prefers it to be the latter. “Do you want to watch a movie? I have a pretty decent collection under the TV stand there,” Dean gestures to the closed cabinet and pushes up out of the chair. “I have to pee, I’ll be back.”
“Thanks for sharing,” Sam snorts and Dean grins.
For a moment he can pretend that Sam and he are like any other brothers, getting together and goofing off, that there’s no awkward tension boiling just under the surface. No words left unspoken, promises broken, shattered history hovering between the two of them. Dean wishes it could always be this way that he could convince Sam to stay and settle down. They could share this place or get a bigger one, Dean would even let Sam work at the shop until he decided what he really wanted to do.
Half way through pulling up his zipper it occurs to Dean that he never thought to move his sizable collection of porn, and that the large stack of DVDs is right there beside his movies and all Sam has to do to find them is open the right cabinet door instead of the left. He’s out the bathroom door like a bullet, rounding the corner and freezing in his tracks as he takes in Sam kneeling in front of the TV - which is on - watching a video of Dean fucking some nameless guy. And damn, Dean had also forgotten that his own very private collection of homemade movies were tucked away in nameless DVD cases right along with the porn stash.
Sam’s jaw is wider then Dean ever thought it could go - which stirs up a sudden onslaught of mental images he’s really not prepared to deal with on top of all of this. Even allowing his brain to entertain the thought that Sam’s grown into one of the hottest guys Dean has ever laid eyes on is too much.
Dean tries to form words, or at least let Sam know that he’s standing there, watching his brother watch him thrust hard into the man’s ass. The scene distracts Dean for just the briefest moment and heat flares in his belly, cock almost instantly hard and pressing against his half done up fly. His image on the screen growls and slaps a hand down hard on the firm rounded cheek, the slap echoing around them.
A groan fell from Dean’s lips and Sam’s head snaps to him, eyes wide and jaw still slack in surprise. “I uh,” he flushes, reaching out to slap at the TV until he finally manages to hit the power button, the noise cutting off just as the man he was with on the video was half way through loudly moan Dean’s name. “It wasn’t labeled and um… there’s was all this…” Sam gestures vaguely to the collection of porn in the cabinet, sliding up off the ground and carding his hand up through his hair in the same nervous gesture he’s had all his life. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
Dean wants to force a chuckle, wants to laugh this whole ridiculous thing off. So what if he’s gay? Sam’s not a judgmental person, would never bash him or any of that crap. But there’s something simmering under the surface and Dean’s cock is still pressing to hard against his jeans and he’s not sure if he wants to scream or punch something. It’s beginning to really grate on his nerves, this onslaught of emotions that the reappearance of his brother has stirred up in him.
“Uh, Dean?” Sam tries again, eyes softening a little as he slides forward and wets his lips. Dean can tell the minute Sam realizes he’s turned on, watches Sam’s eyes flicker down then quickly back up, watches his nostrils flare and heat color his face.
It makes his heart clench painfully but Dean prepares himself for his brother’s anger and disgust. Even considers whether he can pass the whole thing off as a practical joke, all staged to get the biggest laughs. But the look in Sam’s eyes is knowing and Dean knows he’s been caught like a cat with a canary, feathers hanging out of his mouth so to speak. So he prepares himself for loosing his brother once more and this time never getting him back. Only his brother surprises him by doing something Dean could never prepare himself for.
Watching Sam cross the room in three quick steps, Dean suddenly finds himself pressed flush against the wall, lips crashing down into his with brutal force. Sam’s fingers wrap tightly against his shirt front, and it’s a mixture of teeth and lips and tongues and Dean’s mind is reeling, fighting to catch up even as his own hands struggle to find some sort of purchase along Sam’s back. His broken fingers ache with each tight squeeze of cloth but he can’t be bothered with it now.
Sam’s lips are like fire against his, burning and raw, and Dean can only open his mouth wider and allow Sam space to explore. By the time they part several minutes later Dean is gasping for air and his cock is fully erect, tenting out his boxers past his still open zipper.
Leveling his gaze with Sam’s, Dean slowly drags his tongue across his lips, not surprised by the faintest coppery tinge of blood mixed with his saliva. Sam watches the action with dark eyes, fingers still curled in the fabric of Dean’s shirt.
Then everything seems to catch up with him and Sam’s shoving Dean hard against the wall again, this time lifting him off the floor by a few inches - fabric ripping under Dean’s arm pits - before he’s letting go and Dean collapses to the floor in a surprised heap. The walls around him shake in the next moment with the force of the front door being slammed.
Dean can only stare at the vacant space his brother had occupied moments before and blink slowly. If it wasn’t for the tingle still on his lips - and the lingering taste of Sam mixed with beer - Dean might have considered that he dreamed it. Only he didn’t and he has absolutely no idea what that means.
Part Four
Author: anyothergirl415
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Sam/Dean
Words: ~40,000 (complete in 8 parts and an Epilogue)
Warnings: AU, Angst, Drama, Sex, Violence, H/C, minor character death
Summary: When Sam is fourteen years old his older brother leaves, giving up the life of a hunter. Ten years later they meet again by chance and everything changes. Dean's not the person Sam remembers and Sam's not quite ready to let someone in.
Author’s Notes: See the Master Post, there’s quite a few.
Master Post
“So follow my lead.”
“Sam.”
“Watch out for the left side.”
“Sam.”
“Don’t forget to throw the powder if you think it’s-“
“Sam!”
“What Dean? What?” Sam spins on him, arms flaring up with annoyance.
Dean watches the pistol in his hand fly up, flinching slightly as his finger tightens on the trigger just slightly, “I’ve done this before.” He rolls his eyes as the man’s forehead pulls together. Once upon a time Dean knew what every expression that crossed his brother face meant, now he can only hazard a guess as to what would to come next.
“Ten years ago,” Sam snaps, lips pursing together in a thin line. “Things change Dean, and the fact of the matter is, I’m better at this than you.”
Dean gapped at him like a fish, trying to come up with something to say that wouldn’t make him sound like an indignant teenager. “Alright, that’s fair, but you did already go over the plan three times at my place and twice in the car so… I think I’ve got it.”
Staring at him as if he were surprised Dean gave in so easily - which he probably was but this was hardly the time to have a fight, especially since it wasn’t only their lives in danger - Sam huffs a snort before continuing, “Fine. Just… yell my name if you need me.”
Snorting as he walks in the opposite direction of his brother, Dean rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath, “Yeah cause I was gonna yell for Santa Clause and see where that got me.”
The trees around him provide a fair amount of shadows to hide in and Dean looses sight of Sam, worry building in the pit of his stomach with every passing moment. He’d forgotten how much he hates this part, waiting for the creature to expose itself so they can attack. The heavy weight of the gun rests against his palm, cold and hauntingly familiar. For just a moment the life he once lived - the life he’d never intended to return to - slams back full force and he wants to drop the weapon and run as fast as possible in the opposite direction.
Then his brother is calling his name and he’s up, jumping over bushes - nearly tripping over a large root jutting out of the ground - and aiming down the barrel at the empty air around Sam. “Where is he Sam?”
“Ther-“ Sam manages to gasp before his body drops heavily to the ground.
“Shit,” Dean surges forward, trying to remember what to do now. After a moment he gives up and empties the clip into thin air until it connects with the creature. It drops to the ground and instantly becomes visible. Running over to ensure it’s dead, his eyes widen as he spots the bullet hole in the center of the creatures head. “Damn, look at that.”
“Dean!” Sam hollers, now that the creature is dead, the paralysis is gone and he pushes up from the ground and crosses quickly to his brother.
A triumphant grin paints Dean’s features and he gestures to the dead creature with the barrel of his gun. “Look at that shot Sam. Marksmen envy shots like that.”
“What the hell where you thinking? Did you forget about the powder? There could have been someone out here and you could have hit them!” Sam growls, shoving hard at Dean’s shoulder.
The color drains from Dean’s face and he stares at the place Sam’s hand had been seconds earlier. “A simple thank you would have sufficed.”
“Right, thank you for not killing anyone accidentally with your stupidity,” Sam spins from him and pushes through the forest in the direction the creature came from. “Come on. We have to find that girl, hopefully she’s still alive.”
Dean was frozen in his spot for a long moment, watching the retreating back of the man he could hardly believe was his brother. It felt as if someone had taken the puzzle that was his life and turned it upside down. Now Dean was left trying to straighten the pieces only Sam’s piece didn’t seem to fit anywhere.
“Are you coming?” Sam asks, halting in his steps and looking over his shoulder.
“Sure,” Dean swallows thickly and half jogs to catch up with him.
*
Five hours later and Dean’s past the point of exhaustion. They’d managed to locate the girl after a half hour of searching for the creature’s lair and fortunately she was still alive, though bleeding badly. Another half hour later and they were in the Impala, Dean cradling the unconscious woman in the back seat until they pulled up to the hospital. It had then been a blur of doctors and nurses, then policemen who wanted to know where they’d found her.
Dean had done most of the talking, since he did a good majority of the maintenance on the police vehicles and they all knew him. It was easy enough to explain that Sam was his brother visiting from out of town, that Dean had wanted to show him one of his favorite hiking trails and that they’d heard the girl screaming. He was even able to give them the location of the cave, though he’d explained that they found it empty except for the girl when they got there.
When they were finally allowed to leave, Dean could hardly keep his eyes open and he fell asleep against the passenger door on the drive back to his apartment, waking up to Sam shaking his shoulder softly. “Dean? We’re here.”
“What? Oh,” Dean looked out the window at the familiar building and turned to Sam slightly, hand curling around the door handle. “So… I guess you’ll be leaving now. Since the case is all wrapped up.”
“Yeah,” Sam nods, tightening his fists on the steering wheel and staring out the windshield. “Though I still need to get a check up on the car. Not sure how long it’ll be before I stop again.”
With a slight frown Dean shrugs his shoulder in his best, would be casual way. “Why don’t you bring it by the shop tomorrow? Don’t have a lot on the schedule, could get her in and out pretty quickly and you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”
“I don’t think…” Sam sighs, falling into silence for a few minutes. Just long enough for Dean to think that’s all he’s going to get, and he’s pushing open the door, climbing out before Sam says softly. “Eight o’clock okay?”
“I’ll be there,” Dean nods and shuts the door, barely holding off the wince when Sam revs the engine to life and guns it down the street. When Dean gets inside the clock says it’s after three in the morning and he groans, knowing he’s not likely to get much sleep even if he had the chance to sleep in.
*
“It’s just a slight shaking of the steering wheel when I go faster then sixty,” Sam rocks forward a little on the balls of his feet, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he watches Dean lift the hood of the Impala and prop it open. “The alignment’s been a little off since the crash I had last year.”
“You were in a crash?” Dean’s eyes widen a little and he steps back to look at the front bumper. There are a few minor scratches but nothing too major and he looks up at Sam questioningly. “What did you hit?”
“A zombie,” Sam says in a serious tone.
Dean considers him for a long moment before letting his head fall back and laughing loudly in amusement. “A zombie? An honest to God zombie?”
“An honest to God zombie,” Sam confirms and chuckles, leaning back against the workbench and kicking one ankle over the other. “Some wanna be witch raised her ex lover and thought they could spend together forever. Only turns out the ex lover had spent the entirety of his life being verbally abused by his family so he decided to get some revenge. Was not a pretty thing.”
“No, doesn’t sound like it,” Dean shook his head, heart warming at the amusement dancing along his brother’s features. It was good to see an emotion cross his face that wasn’t negative and he wishes he could bask in it. But Sam’s smile fades after a minute of his continued gazing, and Dean turns to the car with a cough. “Well let me take a look, see what the damage is. You want to stick around? The office gets that wifi thing if you have your laptop.”
Sam glances over his shoulder at the large glass pane serving as a separator between the room and the garage, nodding for a moment before moving to the Impala and opening the back door to retrieve his laptop. “So this is your shop? I mean, the sign says Jerry’s but there’s not really anyone else…” Sam gestures to the empty area.
“Jerry’s the owner. I guess I’m more of the… manager?” Dean shrugs, leaning under the hood. “That basically translates to I do the physical work, run the things here, and he deals with the financial aspects. Best of both worlds if you ask me. And it’s Wednesday so only Danny’s coming in, ‘cept he’ll turn up around ten or so.”
“Do you like it?” Sam shifts the strap of his laptop case on his shoulder, going on when Dean pulls slightly back to look at him. “Working in a garage… I guess I’d never considered what you might do now… but this makes sense. So do you like it?”
Dean rubs his hands against his jeans, smearing grease along the denim. “Yeah. I do.” He nods and wets his lips, rubbing along his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s nice, having a steady job. I’ve worked here for seven years, lived in this town for about the same amount of time and it feels good.”
“You don’t get restless?” Sam asks as if he can’t fathom the idea of staying in one place for longer than a week.
With a soft chuckle Dean dips back under the hood, muffled voice answering a moment later. “Yeah, sometimes. But then I go fishing or on a weekend road trip, and the feeling’s gone. It’s nice to have a home, a life to come back too.”
“Must be,” Sam’s voice is cold once more and he turns from Dean and the Impala, crossing the garage in a few quick strides, before opening the office door and stepping inside.
Dean flinches at the sound of the door slamming shut. He knew the moment the words had left his mouth that he shouldn’t have said anything, at least not along this line. Being around Sam is like walking on eggshells, or however the saying goes, and Dean is nowhere near graceful enough for it.
*
“It looks like you have a balance problem. Probably happened when you hit…” Dean casts a quick look to Danny behind the counter and clears his throat. “Well anyway, the balance of your tires is way off. Good news is I can fix it without having to replace them, just have to use a spinning machine, find out where the heaviest part is and use a weight to make up the difference.”
“Great,” Sam looks genuinely relieved and cards a hand up through his hair. “So how long? How much?”
“Well uh, that’s the thing,” Dean shuffles his feet together and pulls the dark blue bandana from his back pocket, “The spinning machine’s been down for the past week, couldn’t schedule the appointment to get it fixed until tomorrow. I could try to replace your tires but I’ve only got one that will work for the Impala and there’s no sure way to know which tire would be the best to-“ He cut off as Sam continued to stare blankly at him.
“So what you’re saying is, my car won’t be ready until tomorrow?”
“Right. And don’t worry, I’ll only charge you for the weights, hardly anything at all,” Dean holds up his hand before Sam can protest. “Don’t worry, I’d cut the price for anyone, it should be a simple thing to fix and it’s our fault it can’t be done right away.”
Sam nods, gathering up his things. “Alright then I’ll come by tomorrow and pick it up.” He brushes past Dean and steps through the office door and out into the garage.
Dean lets him get halfway down the driveway before darting out the door and jogging after him. “Hey Sam? Do you have plans for dinner?”
Stopping and spinning around to face him, Sam smirks just slightly, “Oh yeah, big plans.”
With a snort Dean shook his head, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, “Do you want…” he cleared his throat, stopping and starting again. “Do you want to come by my place for dinner? I could make some steak, baked potatoes?”
“You can cook?” Sam arches a curious eyebrow.
“Best damn cook you’ll ever meet,” Dean scoffs and slips his hands into his back pocket. “So what do you say? I could swing by your motel and pick you up? Around seven?”
Sam considers the invitation quietly for a few moments and Dean tries not to get his hopes up. “Alright. Seven. I’m in room 118.”
Dean smiles and repeats, “Seven.” His eyes linger on Sam’s form as he goes, a flush crawling up his cheeks as his gaze shifts lower to watch the curve of Sam’s ass as he walks. A different sort of sinking feeling grows in the pity of his stomach and he turns back to the garage with a sigh.
*
Knocking on the door to Sam’s motel room makes him chuckle, like he’s about to go on some bizarre date with his estranged brother. Which is almost the truth although he’s sure Sam would be less than pleased to hear Dean refer to it as such. He’s still chuckling when Sam opens the door, though the noise shifts quickly to a cough as he takes in his brother’s shirtless chest. “Uh. Hi.”
“Come in,” Sam pulls the door back the rest of the way, leaving it open for Dean and crossing the room to his duffel bag. “Sorry, I was catching up on some sleep. Lost track of time.”
“Sleep is good,” Dean nods, remembering after a moment to step into the room and close the door behind him. He doesn’t like the way his heart rate has picked up, or how dry the inside of his mouth suddenly is. Clearing his throat, he forces his eyes from Sam’s chest and looks around the tackily decorated motel room. “Huh.”
“What?” Sam tugs a thin t-shirt over his head, combing his hand up through his hair.
Gesturing around the small room, Dean observes, “Could be any other motel room huh? In any other city?”
Sam fixes him with a steady gaze, surprisingly deep lines wrinkling the skin beside either eye. “Yeah. Could be. I’m ready.”
“Alright,” Dean turns and heads for the door, tugging it open and inhaling the cool night air sharply. It doesn’t make sense to him, why seeing his brother without a shirt seems to shake him to his center core, and he buries the thought for later reflection.
“A GTO?” Sam arches an eyebrow, watching Dean walk around to the driver’s side and pull open the door.
“Yeah? What’s wrong with that?” Dean meets his gaze, propping an arm on the roof of the car.
“It’s purple.” Sam states with a smirk.
“It’s dark blue.” Dean retorts, gesturing to the small light on the motel wall. “It’s just the light.”
“Dean, it’s totally purple.”
“Sam, it’s totally dark blue,” he scoffs, dragging out the world in his best sixteen year old girl impression. “Now get in before I leave your ass and eat the steaks all by myself.” Dean slides into the driver’s seat, a slight grin tugging at his lips as he reaches across the seat to pull up the lock on the passenger door.
“I still say it’s purple,” Sam mutters before dropping into the seat.
*
Dean had gone home over his lunch and set the steaks out. He’d also spent some time cleaning, though he’d never admit it out loud. The night before Sam had come for one soul purpose so a mess was alright because he’d hardly noticed. Tonight though, Sam was likely to be more curious and Dean didn’t want him thinking he was a complete slob. Though why that should matter Dean wasn’t sure.
“Did you clean?” Sam asks the minute they step in side and, really? Dean should have figured his brother would notice something so lame.
“Yeah, got a hot date,” Dean snorts and heads into the kitchen where the steaks are waiting. “Beer?” he offers, pulling open the fridge and grabbing one for Sam and himself plus the plate of waiting meat. “Here, grab that door for me, got a mini grill thing out on the balcony,” Dean gestures toward the patio door with the beer his in hand, flexing his fingers when Sam takes the bottle.
Stepping out onto the balcony to make room for Dean, Sam looks around at the view of the city, tops of houses lit by lights pouring out windows. Dean considers his brother for a moment before setting the plate and his beer on the table and begins work on lighting up the grill. “When we were younger I use to make up stories about different families we’d see in their houses when we drove through towns.” Sam says softly, tipping his beer back to take a full swig.
“Oh yeah? What sort of stories?” Dean tries not to seem too interested in what Sam might have to say. The idea of his brother opening up and sharing something with him made his heart quicken oddly, even if it was just some childhood memory stirred up by a wave of nostalgia.
Sam taps his fingertips along his beer, stepping forward to lean his forearms against the railing, bottle dangling from his hands. “I don’t know. Stories where the family only looked that happy and content through the window. Where once the light was out, or they were in another room, the truth was the father was an abusive asshole, the mother had drinking issues and the children were addicted to crack and killed the family dog.”
Moving very slowly, Dean turns to look at his brother with raised eyebrows, he wasn’t even sure what to say to something like that. “Wow Sam,” he clears his throat and turns back to the grill, poking at the coals at the bottom of the barbeque to spread out the heat. “That’s uh… hell, got to be honest here Sam, that’s a tad disturbing.”
His brother snorts and brings the bottle to his lips again. “Yeah I know. But I figured our family couldn’t be the only fucked up one. Had to be families worse then us out there.”
“Dude, killed the family dog?” Dean arches his eyebrow and half turns to him, forcing a chuckle because a tiny part of him is a little worried that his baby brother might try to stab him with an ice pick if he’s not careful. “Our family wasn’t nearly that messed up.”
“I know, I was going for extremes,” Sam shrugs as if the logic makes sense - which it doesn’t - but Dean doesn’t point it out. “I don’t do that now. No use.”
“Because now our family is that fucked up?” Dean slaps the steaks down on the metal cooking rack and grates his teeth.
Sam sighs and finishes his beer, dropping the bottle on the table and picking up Dean’s instead. “I’m that fucked up. Seems like you’ve got your shit figured out.”
“I have a job, place to live, sure,” Dean nods, suddenly uncomfortable with the complete turn in the conversation. He keeps his back to Sam and, thankfully, the discussion ends. Though Dean is sure the words will stick with him for the rest of his life.
*
“Well Dean, I have to admit, you’re a fairly decent cook,” Sam leans back against the chair, rubbing his stomach with a satisfied smirk.
Rising to retrieve another beer for him and his brother, Dean belches and chuckles. “I used to cook for you all the time.”
“Pouring me cereal and milk does not count,” Sam disagrees, taking the offered beer and staring at it curiously. “Dude, another one? Did you ever think you might have a drinking problem?”
Dean snorts and bypasses the kitchen chairs in favor of the large recliner in the living room. “Let’s not get started on who’s issues are the biggest.”
Shaking his head Sam rises to join him, popping the top of his beer and collapsing down onto the couch. He smacks his lips together for a moment before kicking his feet up on the table and sighing.
“Hey,” Dean reaches out and smacks along the sole of the shoe. “No shoes on the coffee table man, get some manners.”
Sam arches an eyebrow and scoffs, “Seriously?”
“Yeah seriously, this isn’t a frat house,” Dean huffs and falls back into his chair, sipping from the bottle in his hand before continuing. “So how’s-“
“If you’re going to ask about Dad, don’t,” Sam holds up a hand, shaking his head and leaning forward to prop his forearms on his thighs. “That’s not… open for discussion.” Another shake of his head and he reaches out to set the beer on the table. “Is that okay or should I use a coaster?”
“A coaster? What? Sam I’m not a fuckin’ girl,” he chokes on his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It’s actually okay that Sam doesn’t want to bring up their father, he’d rather not either but he figured it was the polite thing to do, to check in.
They fall into an awkward silence and Dean racks his brain for something to say, worry gnawing up in him when he sees Sam glance at his watch out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t want Sam to go yet, is actually terrified this will be the only chance he has to establish any sort of connection between them that might help in rebuilding their relationship. Or at least get them talking on the phone once a week. Dean wasn’t sure he could let go of Sam for a second time.
Dean use to dream about Sam every night when he first left and on more than one occasion he’d been halfway back to the last place he’d seen his father and brother before hopping off whatever bus or truck he’d hitched a ride on. Dean could never go back to that life, to the hunting and constant moving, to the way his father could never see the damage he was inflicting on both his sons.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Sam asks.
The question is innocent enough, even logical, but Dean can feel the heat rush up his system, coloring his cheeks slightly. It wasn’t until after Dean left his family that he learned certain facts about himself, his preference for men being the major one. It isn’t something Dean really wants to discuss with his brother now. “No.”
Sam seems to sense the finality in the word and asks no more. Or he just doesn’t really care. Dean prefers it to be the latter. “Do you want to watch a movie? I have a pretty decent collection under the TV stand there,” Dean gestures to the closed cabinet and pushes up out of the chair. “I have to pee, I’ll be back.”
“Thanks for sharing,” Sam snorts and Dean grins.
For a moment he can pretend that Sam and he are like any other brothers, getting together and goofing off, that there’s no awkward tension boiling just under the surface. No words left unspoken, promises broken, shattered history hovering between the two of them. Dean wishes it could always be this way that he could convince Sam to stay and settle down. They could share this place or get a bigger one, Dean would even let Sam work at the shop until he decided what he really wanted to do.
Half way through pulling up his zipper it occurs to Dean that he never thought to move his sizable collection of porn, and that the large stack of DVDs is right there beside his movies and all Sam has to do to find them is open the right cabinet door instead of the left. He’s out the bathroom door like a bullet, rounding the corner and freezing in his tracks as he takes in Sam kneeling in front of the TV - which is on - watching a video of Dean fucking some nameless guy. And damn, Dean had also forgotten that his own very private collection of homemade movies were tucked away in nameless DVD cases right along with the porn stash.
Sam’s jaw is wider then Dean ever thought it could go - which stirs up a sudden onslaught of mental images he’s really not prepared to deal with on top of all of this. Even allowing his brain to entertain the thought that Sam’s grown into one of the hottest guys Dean has ever laid eyes on is too much.
Dean tries to form words, or at least let Sam know that he’s standing there, watching his brother watch him thrust hard into the man’s ass. The scene distracts Dean for just the briefest moment and heat flares in his belly, cock almost instantly hard and pressing against his half done up fly. His image on the screen growls and slaps a hand down hard on the firm rounded cheek, the slap echoing around them.
A groan fell from Dean’s lips and Sam’s head snaps to him, eyes wide and jaw still slack in surprise. “I uh,” he flushes, reaching out to slap at the TV until he finally manages to hit the power button, the noise cutting off just as the man he was with on the video was half way through loudly moan Dean’s name. “It wasn’t labeled and um… there’s was all this…” Sam gestures vaguely to the collection of porn in the cabinet, sliding up off the ground and carding his hand up through his hair in the same nervous gesture he’s had all his life. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
Dean wants to force a chuckle, wants to laugh this whole ridiculous thing off. So what if he’s gay? Sam’s not a judgmental person, would never bash him or any of that crap. But there’s something simmering under the surface and Dean’s cock is still pressing to hard against his jeans and he’s not sure if he wants to scream or punch something. It’s beginning to really grate on his nerves, this onslaught of emotions that the reappearance of his brother has stirred up in him.
“Uh, Dean?” Sam tries again, eyes softening a little as he slides forward and wets his lips. Dean can tell the minute Sam realizes he’s turned on, watches Sam’s eyes flicker down then quickly back up, watches his nostrils flare and heat color his face.
It makes his heart clench painfully but Dean prepares himself for his brother’s anger and disgust. Even considers whether he can pass the whole thing off as a practical joke, all staged to get the biggest laughs. But the look in Sam’s eyes is knowing and Dean knows he’s been caught like a cat with a canary, feathers hanging out of his mouth so to speak. So he prepares himself for loosing his brother once more and this time never getting him back. Only his brother surprises him by doing something Dean could never prepare himself for.
Watching Sam cross the room in three quick steps, Dean suddenly finds himself pressed flush against the wall, lips crashing down into his with brutal force. Sam’s fingers wrap tightly against his shirt front, and it’s a mixture of teeth and lips and tongues and Dean’s mind is reeling, fighting to catch up even as his own hands struggle to find some sort of purchase along Sam’s back. His broken fingers ache with each tight squeeze of cloth but he can’t be bothered with it now.
Sam’s lips are like fire against his, burning and raw, and Dean can only open his mouth wider and allow Sam space to explore. By the time they part several minutes later Dean is gasping for air and his cock is fully erect, tenting out his boxers past his still open zipper.
Leveling his gaze with Sam’s, Dean slowly drags his tongue across his lips, not surprised by the faintest coppery tinge of blood mixed with his saliva. Sam watches the action with dark eyes, fingers still curled in the fabric of Dean’s shirt.
Then everything seems to catch up with him and Sam’s shoving Dean hard against the wall again, this time lifting him off the floor by a few inches - fabric ripping under Dean’s arm pits - before he’s letting go and Dean collapses to the floor in a surprised heap. The walls around him shake in the next moment with the force of the front door being slammed.
Dean can only stare at the vacant space his brother had occupied moments before and blink slowly. If it wasn’t for the tingle still on his lips - and the lingering taste of Sam mixed with beer - Dean might have considered that he dreamed it. Only he didn’t and he has absolutely no idea what that means.
Part Four