Fic: The Song Remains The Same: Dean/Sam - NC-17
Title: The Song Remains the Same
Author: mgbutterfly
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Dean/Sam
Disclaimer: These boys both belong to me... in my dreams.
Summary: Wintertime in the Impala brings memories flooding to the surface in Sam's mind.
Beta!Bitch:sardonicsmiley. Ss is my internet!girlfriend. I think I'm going to ask her to marry me. Because she is made of awesome with awesomesauce on top that I want to lick off. Forever and ever, amen.
Author's Notes: More Dream 'Verse. Also written for my spn13 table, # 10: Stars. Links to song downloads following fic. Also, this is X-posted EVERYWHERE. Sorry for the spam, y'all.
Wintertime in the Impala brings memories flooding to the surface of Sam's mind. Times when he and Dean and dad would bundle up with blankets and layer upon layer of clothing and sleep in rest stop parking lots. Times when he was young and Dean would wrap himself around Sam in the back seat to keep them both warm. Times when, waking in the morning, Sam would feel so safe, so secure, with his father and brother so close.
Sam looks over at Dean, driving and tapping his hands on the steering wheel in time to the music, and thinks, nothing could be more right. Sam smiles and closes his eyes. He listens to the words pouring out of the stereo. Really listens to Trampled Under Foot and realizes it was written for the Impala. A moment later he realizes it was written for sex in the Impala. Sam smiles again, letting the memories swirl around in his mind as he drifts off to sleep.
~ -|- ~
It's dark on the highway. Sam sees a green sign, "REST STOP 10 MILES," then looks at his watch. Ten thirty glows green on the face. He looks out of the windshield again and watches the headlights illuminate the white dotted line on the blacktop.
It's cold. There's a fog beginning to form over the landscape around them. As they drive, it gets thicker, whiter, all around the Impala. Dean glances over at Sam and says, "Maybe we should stop soon. The fog's closing in."
Sam nods, not sure if Dean sees it, then says, "We can sleep at the rest stop."
What seems like only seconds later, they're pulling into the rest stop parking lot. The Impala is the only car there. There are no lights, no signature rest stop bathroom, no picnic tables. Only concrete parking spaces that fade into worn grass as they sit in the car looking out the windshield.
The fog around them clears as soon as they open the doors to have a look around. Sam looks up at the sky, and with no lights around, he can see every star. He can see the Milky Way's belt of light reaching out into the sky like a spider's web. Sam turns around in a circle to survey the landscape and realizes they're in a field. The road has disappeared leaving them exposed, stranded.
Dean walks up next to Sam, and Sam realizes he's never felt so safe. He smiles at Dean and looks over Dean's shoulder to the Impala. In the darkness surrounding them, the car is a beacon of silver-black light. Sam walks to the car and stands staring into the slick metal. He can see all the stars reflected there, perfect, as if the Impala itself is made of the cosmos. Sam turns to yell at Dean to come see, then Dean is there.
Dean presses up against Sam, wraps his arms around him and pulls him in close. Dean pushes all the space between them away. It's just Sam and Dean, SamandDean.
Sam closes his eyes and wraps himself up in Dean. When he opens them, they are in the back seat of the Impala, covered in warm blankets, tangled up in each other to the point that Sam's not sure where he ends and Dean begins.
Sam falls asleep to the rhythm of breaths rising and falling in Dean's chest. He dreams of stars rocketing toward the Earth, burning up in the violence of her atmosphere.
~ -|- ~
Sam wakes up to evening coming down. The horizon is the pale gray of winter, cold and uninviting. He yawns and looks over at Dean who has stopped tapping the steering wheel in time to the music. In fact, there isn't any music playing. Sam says, "What happened to the tunes, man?"
Dean tries what Sam assumes is his best nonchalant look and says, "Oh, well, I was gettin' a headache. S'gone now. What you want to listen to?"
"I though it was, 'Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole?'"
Dean smiles, "Well, if you don't wanna pick something, I'll be happy to listen to some Motorhead or Judas Priest."
Sam rolls his eyes and digs into the tape box between them. He fishes around for a moment before he finds Houses of the Holy. Removing the cassette from its jacket, Sam pops it into the tape deck and watches Dean's face light up. Sam smiles to himself and relaxes against the seat for the rest of the ride.
About twenty minutes later, they stop at a road-side diner and have a quick meal. Sam opts for the grilled chicken sandwich and cringes when Dean orders the "Heart Attack on a Plate" special. Sam wonders how Dean's body can process all the crap he shovels into it on a daily basis, then he makes a mental note to stock up on fruit the next time they stop anywhere for more than twelve hours.
It's fully dark when they head back out onto the road. The days are so short, now that winter has settled in, that it seems like the time slips away, hours feeling like minutes. Sam watches the landscape pass by outside his window. He watches the far away lights of houses, set back a mile off the main road, flicker and fade. He loses himself in the chill of the glass against his cheek. He hypnotizes himself with the passing of the lines on the road.
When Sam finally escapes his reverie, he looks down at his watch and realizes he must have completely zoned out because now it's almost nine-thirty. Dean says, "Welcome back, Major Tom. I think we're gonna have to stay at a rest stop tonight. There's nothing along this road except farm, farm and more farm."
Sam grins and just stares at Dean. Dean, mostly keeping his eyes on the road, glances over at Sam several times before huffing out a breath and saying, "What? I didn't plan it that way, Sam. It just happened." Sam sees the grin spread across Dean's face.
When they pass the sign that says, "NEXT REST AREA 127 MILES" Sam looks over at Dean and raises his eyebrows. Dean darts his eyes to Sam, then back on the road and doesn't say a word. Sam shakes his head and sighs.
Dean starts to slow the Impala down, coasting from seventy to forty-five while he scans the road for a pull off. Sam is scanning too, and isn't finding any prospects. Sam is completely surprised when Dean slows the car down further and just pulls off into a field on the north side of the road. Dean is driving very slowly away from the road, and after a few hundred feet, he finally stops the car and turns the engine off.
"Good a spot as any," Dean opens his door and steps out, keys in hand, and walks around to the trunk. Sam sits another moment then gets out of the car. He watches Dean get blankets out of the trunk, open the driver's side back door and toss them in then close the door with a familiar creek of hinges.
Sam looks up at the sky and his breath catches in his throat. The stars are an explosion of light across an inky black backdrop. It's been so long since he's been out in the middle of nowhere at night. Most of his nights are spent in dingy motel rooms, or, on the bad nights, in brightly lit hospital rooms. Sam leans against the passenger door and keeps his head tilted up to the sky.
Dean walks around to lean against the car next to Sam. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam sees Dean tilt his head up to the sky and he's pretty sure he hears Dean suck in a surprised breath. After a silent moment, Dean turns to Sam and fists his hand in Sam's sleeve. Sam turns to face Dean and Dean pulls Sam with him as he walks backward, toward the rear of the car.
Sam matches Dean step for step and isn't surprised when Dean opens the back passenger side door of the Impala and says, "Get in, Sam." Sam hesitates for a moment then slides into the back seat. He pushes the blankets up against the opposite door and leans back against them, spreading his right leg against the back of the seat and letting his left foot rest on the floor. Dean crawls in between Sam's legs and pulls the door shut behind him.
Dean runs his hands up Sam's thighs, up under Sam's shirt and scraps his short nails down Sam's chest. Sam exhales a warm breath and lets his head fall against the window. Dean's fingers reach Sam's waistband and he begins to unbutton and unzip Sam's jeans. Sam is already half hard, and when he feels Dean's fingers prying at his jeans to pull them down slightly, he lifts his ass off the seat.
Dean looks up at Sam and smirks. Dean drives Sam crazy with that smirk and Sam is pretty sure Dean knows it. Dean pulls Sam's jeans and boxers down to rest just below Sam's hips. Just far enough to free Sam's cock. Dean stretches up to meet Sam's lips in a warm, wet, lazy kiss. It sends tingles across Sam's scalp and down his spine, blood rushing south to come to rest in his cock.
Dean pulls away from Sam's lips and without hesitation, lowers his mouth to the head of Sam's dick. Sam sucks in a breath when Dean's tongue darts out and licks at the swollen flesh. A fresh wave of blood sends Sam's cock bobbing against his stomach. Dean looks up from under his brow and smiles, something wicked, and licks a stripe up the underside. Sam sighs and rests his head against the window once again, letting his mouth fall open and his eyes fall closed.
Dean licks another stripe up Sam's cock and when he reaches the head, he wraps his lips around it and sucks lightly. A throaty moan escapes Sam's lips as Dean slides his mouth down the hard length. He starts to pull off, swirling his tongue around the head, then sucks Sam down again. Sam is dizzy with an ache low in his belly. He's sure that if he were standing, his knees would give out right about now. The wet heat of Dean mouth on his cock, the feel of Dean's hair as it brushes against his belly, Dean's hand smoothing down his leg; it's all an overload to Sam's senses.
He both hears and feels Dean unzip his own jeans and pull his dick out. The movement of Dean's hand on his own cock translates to a slow friction against Sam's right thigh. Sam reaches down, his long arms allow him to reach Dean's cock with inches to spare, and bats Dean's hand away. Dean moans around Sam's dick when Sam wraps his hand over Dean's cock and starts slowly pulling, leading Dean in this sweet dance.
Sam rolls his hips up to meet Dean's mouth as he swirls his tongue around Sam's dick again. In retaliation, Sam slides his hand up Dean's cock and smooths his thumb over the head, pulling a long moan out of Dean. The vibration through Sam's groin is almost enough to get him off right now. Sam tightens his grip slightly on Dean's dick with his right hand and threads the fingers of his left hand into Dean's hair. He quickens the pace of his strokes on his brother's dick, adding a twist at the end of each pull.
Sam feels the heat pooling in his belly. His breath quickens and he licks his lips, pulling the bottom one between his teeth. Sam can feel the hard line of Dean's cock growing more solid, more taut. He's lost in the rhythm of his hand on Dean's cock and Dean's lips around his own.
Sam scrunches his eyes closed and sucks in a breath when he comes. He sees a symphony of stars exploding behind his eyes. Sam's vaguely aware of something warm and wet spilling over his right hand, but it's distant, lost in the white hot spasms of his orgasm.
When Sam opens his eyes after what seems like a million years, Dean's head is resting against his chest and his hand is sticky with Dean's come. Sam huffs a laugh and Dean raises his head, asks, "What's so funny?"
Sam smiles, says, "Nothing really. Just. I need a towel." Dean smiles and reaches down onto the floorboard behind the passenger seat. He pulls a towel from the ether and produces it to Sam. Sam rolls his eyes, takes the towel and wipes the come off his hand.
Dean kneels between Sam's legs and Sam takes the opportunity to pull his pants back up while Dean zips up his own. After a moment Sam realizes how god damn cold it is. He pulls the blankets from between himself and the door and stretches out on his side, back against the seat. Dean watches and rolls his eyes, "We have to cuddle now?"
Sam says, "Fine. You can sleep in the front. But don't bitch at me when you wake up freezing your ass off."
Dean rolls his eyes again and settles down with his back against Sam's chest. Sam throws the blankets over both of them and there's a small struggle to right the fabric and situate limbs into something akin to comfort.
It's crowded and cramped and there are too many elbows and knees, but as he drifts off into sleep, Sam thinks, nothing could be more right.
~ -|- ~
Sam wakes up to find Dean gone. He rubs his eyes and throws the blankets off and looks out the window. Everything is the color of winter, a thick fog covering the ground, a pitiful, diffuse light making it seem brighter than it actually is.
Sam opens the car door and steps out into the cold morning air. He is immediately hit with a sense of panic. He turns around to find the Impala gone. Alone in the fog, Sam scans desperately for some sign of Dean. Scans for anything to get his bearings. He's lost in a cold, white-gray cloud, the fog covering everything, making it impossible to see more than a foot ahead.
Sam starts to walk, calling out for Dean. His breath gets swallowed up by the frigid air, his eyes burn with the cold, his lips are dry and chapped.
Sam stops, takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them, he sees a point of light, probably two hundred feet in front of him. Sam starts to walk toward the light and as he gets closer, he realizes it's not one point of light, but two. The pale yellow glow ahead seems to warm him from the inside out. The closer he gets to the light, the warmer and safer he feels.
After a few more feet, Sam realizes the lights are headlights. A few more feet after that, Sam is hit with the realization that the headlights belong to the Impala. Sam starts jogging toward the light. The fog covering the ground begins to dissipate and Sam can see he's running on a road.
Sam reaches the car and is filled with a sense of relief when he sees Dean standing behind the open driver's side door, crooked smirk plastered to his face. Sam stops running. He stands smiling at Dean and reaches out to grip his brother's shoulders. Sam's voice is breathy when he says, "I thought I'd lost you."
Dean's smirk turns to a smile, something soft that lights his eyes from the inside out. The fog begins to thin and after a moment it's gone completely, revealing a blacktop road curving through a lush green field. Dean slides into the driver's seat and closes the door. Sam walks around to the passenger side and folds himself into the car next to his brother.
Dean looks over at Sam as he starts the car and says, "You'll never lose me, Sam."
Sam smiles as Dean puts the car in gear and starts driving down the road. He loses himself in the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine and Sam drifts off into a dreamless sleep.
~ -|- ~
Sam wakes up with Dean still warm against his chest. He smiles and raises his eyes to look out the front of the car. The morning landscape is obscured by a thin blanket of mist hanging snugly around the field and few trees dotting the earth. The sun is a warm yellow glow overhead, promising a warmer day than the one before.
Sam feels Dean stir and says, "Mornin', Glory. How'd you sleep?"
Dean sits up rubbing his eyes and says, "Dude. Your head is one fucked up place. Why can't you dream about porn lesbians or something?"
Sam laughs, bright and full, and sits up next to Dean, "Who says they're my dreams? They might be yours."
Dean rolls his eyes and scrubs his hands over his face and says, "My dreams aren't full of angst. My dreams are, well, porny." He shakes his head and gives Sam a look that can only be interpreted as duh, dumbass.
Dean opens the door and rolls out of the car, Sam following closely behind. He starts to walk away and Sam asks, "Where are you going? I need coffee."
"Need to pee, Sam. Jeez. It's like you're not a guy."
Sam laughs and decides that's probably not a bad idea. When the get back to the car, Dean cranks it up and lets the engine warm up for a few minutes before driving out of the field back onto the road. He fishes around in the tape box and pops something into the deck that Sam doesn't catch. Dean hits the fast forward button and waits a few minutes before checking the tape.
Sam smiles when the lyrics start to wrap around his brain. In The Light spills out of the speakers like a benediction. Sam looks over at Dean and his brother's eyes meet his as Dean smiles that soft, light-filled smile.
Sam thinks, nothing could be more right.
~ -|- ~
Houses of the Holy: By Led Zeppelin (minus The Crunge because I don't actually have that song... sorry.) insaneboingo provided me with the download to The Crunge. Thank you so much! You, my friend, rock!
The Song Remains the Same
The Rain Song
Over The Hills and Far Away
The Crunge
Dancing Days
D'yer Mak'er
No Quarter
The Ocean
~ -|- ~
Others:
Trampled Under Foot
In The Light
Author: mgbutterfly
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Dean/Sam
Disclaimer: These boys both belong to me... in my dreams.
Summary: Wintertime in the Impala brings memories flooding to the surface in Sam's mind.
Beta!Bitch:sardonicsmiley. Ss is my internet!girlfriend. I think I'm going to ask her to marry me. Because she is made of awesome with awesomesauce on top that I want to lick off. Forever and ever, amen.
Author's Notes: More Dream 'Verse. Also written for my spn13 table, # 10: Stars. Links to song downloads following fic. Also, this is X-posted EVERYWHERE. Sorry for the spam, y'all.
Wintertime in the Impala brings memories flooding to the surface of Sam's mind. Times when he and Dean and dad would bundle up with blankets and layer upon layer of clothing and sleep in rest stop parking lots. Times when he was young and Dean would wrap himself around Sam in the back seat to keep them both warm. Times when, waking in the morning, Sam would feel so safe, so secure, with his father and brother so close.
Sam looks over at Dean, driving and tapping his hands on the steering wheel in time to the music, and thinks, nothing could be more right. Sam smiles and closes his eyes. He listens to the words pouring out of the stereo. Really listens to Trampled Under Foot and realizes it was written for the Impala. A moment later he realizes it was written for sex in the Impala. Sam smiles again, letting the memories swirl around in his mind as he drifts off to sleep.
~ -|- ~
It's dark on the highway. Sam sees a green sign, "REST STOP 10 MILES," then looks at his watch. Ten thirty glows green on the face. He looks out of the windshield again and watches the headlights illuminate the white dotted line on the blacktop.
It's cold. There's a fog beginning to form over the landscape around them. As they drive, it gets thicker, whiter, all around the Impala. Dean glances over at Sam and says, "Maybe we should stop soon. The fog's closing in."
Sam nods, not sure if Dean sees it, then says, "We can sleep at the rest stop."
What seems like only seconds later, they're pulling into the rest stop parking lot. The Impala is the only car there. There are no lights, no signature rest stop bathroom, no picnic tables. Only concrete parking spaces that fade into worn grass as they sit in the car looking out the windshield.
The fog around them clears as soon as they open the doors to have a look around. Sam looks up at the sky, and with no lights around, he can see every star. He can see the Milky Way's belt of light reaching out into the sky like a spider's web. Sam turns around in a circle to survey the landscape and realizes they're in a field. The road has disappeared leaving them exposed, stranded.
Dean walks up next to Sam, and Sam realizes he's never felt so safe. He smiles at Dean and looks over Dean's shoulder to the Impala. In the darkness surrounding them, the car is a beacon of silver-black light. Sam walks to the car and stands staring into the slick metal. He can see all the stars reflected there, perfect, as if the Impala itself is made of the cosmos. Sam turns to yell at Dean to come see, then Dean is there.
Dean presses up against Sam, wraps his arms around him and pulls him in close. Dean pushes all the space between them away. It's just Sam and Dean, SamandDean.
Sam closes his eyes and wraps himself up in Dean. When he opens them, they are in the back seat of the Impala, covered in warm blankets, tangled up in each other to the point that Sam's not sure where he ends and Dean begins.
Sam falls asleep to the rhythm of breaths rising and falling in Dean's chest. He dreams of stars rocketing toward the Earth, burning up in the violence of her atmosphere.
~ -|- ~
Sam wakes up to evening coming down. The horizon is the pale gray of winter, cold and uninviting. He yawns and looks over at Dean who has stopped tapping the steering wheel in time to the music. In fact, there isn't any music playing. Sam says, "What happened to the tunes, man?"
Dean tries what Sam assumes is his best nonchalant look and says, "Oh, well, I was gettin' a headache. S'gone now. What you want to listen to?"
"I though it was, 'Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole?'"
Dean smiles, "Well, if you don't wanna pick something, I'll be happy to listen to some Motorhead or Judas Priest."
Sam rolls his eyes and digs into the tape box between them. He fishes around for a moment before he finds Houses of the Holy. Removing the cassette from its jacket, Sam pops it into the tape deck and watches Dean's face light up. Sam smiles to himself and relaxes against the seat for the rest of the ride.
About twenty minutes later, they stop at a road-side diner and have a quick meal. Sam opts for the grilled chicken sandwich and cringes when Dean orders the "Heart Attack on a Plate" special. Sam wonders how Dean's body can process all the crap he shovels into it on a daily basis, then he makes a mental note to stock up on fruit the next time they stop anywhere for more than twelve hours.
It's fully dark when they head back out onto the road. The days are so short, now that winter has settled in, that it seems like the time slips away, hours feeling like minutes. Sam watches the landscape pass by outside his window. He watches the far away lights of houses, set back a mile off the main road, flicker and fade. He loses himself in the chill of the glass against his cheek. He hypnotizes himself with the passing of the lines on the road.
When Sam finally escapes his reverie, he looks down at his watch and realizes he must have completely zoned out because now it's almost nine-thirty. Dean says, "Welcome back, Major Tom. I think we're gonna have to stay at a rest stop tonight. There's nothing along this road except farm, farm and more farm."
Sam grins and just stares at Dean. Dean, mostly keeping his eyes on the road, glances over at Sam several times before huffing out a breath and saying, "What? I didn't plan it that way, Sam. It just happened." Sam sees the grin spread across Dean's face.
When they pass the sign that says, "NEXT REST AREA 127 MILES" Sam looks over at Dean and raises his eyebrows. Dean darts his eyes to Sam, then back on the road and doesn't say a word. Sam shakes his head and sighs.
Dean starts to slow the Impala down, coasting from seventy to forty-five while he scans the road for a pull off. Sam is scanning too, and isn't finding any prospects. Sam is completely surprised when Dean slows the car down further and just pulls off into a field on the north side of the road. Dean is driving very slowly away from the road, and after a few hundred feet, he finally stops the car and turns the engine off.
"Good a spot as any," Dean opens his door and steps out, keys in hand, and walks around to the trunk. Sam sits another moment then gets out of the car. He watches Dean get blankets out of the trunk, open the driver's side back door and toss them in then close the door with a familiar creek of hinges.
Sam looks up at the sky and his breath catches in his throat. The stars are an explosion of light across an inky black backdrop. It's been so long since he's been out in the middle of nowhere at night. Most of his nights are spent in dingy motel rooms, or, on the bad nights, in brightly lit hospital rooms. Sam leans against the passenger door and keeps his head tilted up to the sky.
Dean walks around to lean against the car next to Sam. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam sees Dean tilt his head up to the sky and he's pretty sure he hears Dean suck in a surprised breath. After a silent moment, Dean turns to Sam and fists his hand in Sam's sleeve. Sam turns to face Dean and Dean pulls Sam with him as he walks backward, toward the rear of the car.
Sam matches Dean step for step and isn't surprised when Dean opens the back passenger side door of the Impala and says, "Get in, Sam." Sam hesitates for a moment then slides into the back seat. He pushes the blankets up against the opposite door and leans back against them, spreading his right leg against the back of the seat and letting his left foot rest on the floor. Dean crawls in between Sam's legs and pulls the door shut behind him.
Dean runs his hands up Sam's thighs, up under Sam's shirt and scraps his short nails down Sam's chest. Sam exhales a warm breath and lets his head fall against the window. Dean's fingers reach Sam's waistband and he begins to unbutton and unzip Sam's jeans. Sam is already half hard, and when he feels Dean's fingers prying at his jeans to pull them down slightly, he lifts his ass off the seat.
Dean looks up at Sam and smirks. Dean drives Sam crazy with that smirk and Sam is pretty sure Dean knows it. Dean pulls Sam's jeans and boxers down to rest just below Sam's hips. Just far enough to free Sam's cock. Dean stretches up to meet Sam's lips in a warm, wet, lazy kiss. It sends tingles across Sam's scalp and down his spine, blood rushing south to come to rest in his cock.
Dean pulls away from Sam's lips and without hesitation, lowers his mouth to the head of Sam's dick. Sam sucks in a breath when Dean's tongue darts out and licks at the swollen flesh. A fresh wave of blood sends Sam's cock bobbing against his stomach. Dean looks up from under his brow and smiles, something wicked, and licks a stripe up the underside. Sam sighs and rests his head against the window once again, letting his mouth fall open and his eyes fall closed.
Dean licks another stripe up Sam's cock and when he reaches the head, he wraps his lips around it and sucks lightly. A throaty moan escapes Sam's lips as Dean slides his mouth down the hard length. He starts to pull off, swirling his tongue around the head, then sucks Sam down again. Sam is dizzy with an ache low in his belly. He's sure that if he were standing, his knees would give out right about now. The wet heat of Dean mouth on his cock, the feel of Dean's hair as it brushes against his belly, Dean's hand smoothing down his leg; it's all an overload to Sam's senses.
He both hears and feels Dean unzip his own jeans and pull his dick out. The movement of Dean's hand on his own cock translates to a slow friction against Sam's right thigh. Sam reaches down, his long arms allow him to reach Dean's cock with inches to spare, and bats Dean's hand away. Dean moans around Sam's dick when Sam wraps his hand over Dean's cock and starts slowly pulling, leading Dean in this sweet dance.
Sam rolls his hips up to meet Dean's mouth as he swirls his tongue around Sam's dick again. In retaliation, Sam slides his hand up Dean's cock and smooths his thumb over the head, pulling a long moan out of Dean. The vibration through Sam's groin is almost enough to get him off right now. Sam tightens his grip slightly on Dean's dick with his right hand and threads the fingers of his left hand into Dean's hair. He quickens the pace of his strokes on his brother's dick, adding a twist at the end of each pull.
Sam feels the heat pooling in his belly. His breath quickens and he licks his lips, pulling the bottom one between his teeth. Sam can feel the hard line of Dean's cock growing more solid, more taut. He's lost in the rhythm of his hand on Dean's cock and Dean's lips around his own.
Sam scrunches his eyes closed and sucks in a breath when he comes. He sees a symphony of stars exploding behind his eyes. Sam's vaguely aware of something warm and wet spilling over his right hand, but it's distant, lost in the white hot spasms of his orgasm.
When Sam opens his eyes after what seems like a million years, Dean's head is resting against his chest and his hand is sticky with Dean's come. Sam huffs a laugh and Dean raises his head, asks, "What's so funny?"
Sam smiles, says, "Nothing really. Just. I need a towel." Dean smiles and reaches down onto the floorboard behind the passenger seat. He pulls a towel from the ether and produces it to Sam. Sam rolls his eyes, takes the towel and wipes the come off his hand.
Dean kneels between Sam's legs and Sam takes the opportunity to pull his pants back up while Dean zips up his own. After a moment Sam realizes how god damn cold it is. He pulls the blankets from between himself and the door and stretches out on his side, back against the seat. Dean watches and rolls his eyes, "We have to cuddle now?"
Sam says, "Fine. You can sleep in the front. But don't bitch at me when you wake up freezing your ass off."
Dean rolls his eyes again and settles down with his back against Sam's chest. Sam throws the blankets over both of them and there's a small struggle to right the fabric and situate limbs into something akin to comfort.
It's crowded and cramped and there are too many elbows and knees, but as he drifts off into sleep, Sam thinks, nothing could be more right.
~ -|- ~
Sam wakes up to find Dean gone. He rubs his eyes and throws the blankets off and looks out the window. Everything is the color of winter, a thick fog covering the ground, a pitiful, diffuse light making it seem brighter than it actually is.
Sam opens the car door and steps out into the cold morning air. He is immediately hit with a sense of panic. He turns around to find the Impala gone. Alone in the fog, Sam scans desperately for some sign of Dean. Scans for anything to get his bearings. He's lost in a cold, white-gray cloud, the fog covering everything, making it impossible to see more than a foot ahead.
Sam starts to walk, calling out for Dean. His breath gets swallowed up by the frigid air, his eyes burn with the cold, his lips are dry and chapped.
Sam stops, takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them, he sees a point of light, probably two hundred feet in front of him. Sam starts to walk toward the light and as he gets closer, he realizes it's not one point of light, but two. The pale yellow glow ahead seems to warm him from the inside out. The closer he gets to the light, the warmer and safer he feels.
After a few more feet, Sam realizes the lights are headlights. A few more feet after that, Sam is hit with the realization that the headlights belong to the Impala. Sam starts jogging toward the light. The fog covering the ground begins to dissipate and Sam can see he's running on a road.
Sam reaches the car and is filled with a sense of relief when he sees Dean standing behind the open driver's side door, crooked smirk plastered to his face. Sam stops running. He stands smiling at Dean and reaches out to grip his brother's shoulders. Sam's voice is breathy when he says, "I thought I'd lost you."
Dean's smirk turns to a smile, something soft that lights his eyes from the inside out. The fog begins to thin and after a moment it's gone completely, revealing a blacktop road curving through a lush green field. Dean slides into the driver's seat and closes the door. Sam walks around to the passenger side and folds himself into the car next to his brother.
Dean looks over at Sam as he starts the car and says, "You'll never lose me, Sam."
Sam smiles as Dean puts the car in gear and starts driving down the road. He loses himself in the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine and Sam drifts off into a dreamless sleep.
~ -|- ~
Sam wakes up with Dean still warm against his chest. He smiles and raises his eyes to look out the front of the car. The morning landscape is obscured by a thin blanket of mist hanging snugly around the field and few trees dotting the earth. The sun is a warm yellow glow overhead, promising a warmer day than the one before.
Sam feels Dean stir and says, "Mornin', Glory. How'd you sleep?"
Dean sits up rubbing his eyes and says, "Dude. Your head is one fucked up place. Why can't you dream about porn lesbians or something?"
Sam laughs, bright and full, and sits up next to Dean, "Who says they're my dreams? They might be yours."
Dean rolls his eyes and scrubs his hands over his face and says, "My dreams aren't full of angst. My dreams are, well, porny." He shakes his head and gives Sam a look that can only be interpreted as duh, dumbass.
Dean opens the door and rolls out of the car, Sam following closely behind. He starts to walk away and Sam asks, "Where are you going? I need coffee."
"Need to pee, Sam. Jeez. It's like you're not a guy."
Sam laughs and decides that's probably not a bad idea. When the get back to the car, Dean cranks it up and lets the engine warm up for a few minutes before driving out of the field back onto the road. He fishes around in the tape box and pops something into the deck that Sam doesn't catch. Dean hits the fast forward button and waits a few minutes before checking the tape.
Sam smiles when the lyrics start to wrap around his brain. In The Light spills out of the speakers like a benediction. Sam looks over at Dean and his brother's eyes meet his as Dean smiles that soft, light-filled smile.
Sam thinks, nothing could be more right.
~ -|- ~
Houses of the Holy: By Led Zeppelin (minus The Crunge because I don't actually have that song... sorry.) insaneboingo provided me with the download to The Crunge. Thank you so much! You, my friend, rock!
The Song Remains the Same
The Rain Song
Over The Hills and Far Away
The Crunge
Dancing Days
D'yer Mak'er
No Quarter
The Ocean
~ -|- ~
Others:
Trampled Under Foot
In The Light