Just Go Somewhere..Sam/Dean NC17, birthday fic for deirdre_c
Happy Belated Birthday deirdre_C. I hope you had an awesome birthday hon! I feel so lucky I got to meet you in RL and get to know you! You are truly one of the most generous, kind, fun, clever, talented people around. I want to live in your brain. Is that allowed?
In the meantime, you'll have to make do with this offering from my brain. With MUCH thanks to oxoniensis for the really fine beta - any merit it contains is 'cause of her. With MUCH thanks to gigglingkat for de-britting it for me. I appreciate both because they got back to me in time for me to post this FOR your birthday - then the internets where I have been weren't working! So it is late! Sorry!
Title: Just Go Somewhere and Hang Out.
Rating: NC17 to play it safe
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Warning: Sex. Language. The DJ’s chats include themes like suicide and coercion into sex.
Summary: Stanford era. Sam becomes obsessed by a pirate radio DJ.
Based on the movie “Pump Up the Volume” & all good lines within are unashamedly stolen from it.
Sam twisted the dial and listened for sound - music or voice, anything that he could turn into company to go along with his studies.
He needed something to fill the silence.
A voice leapt from the depths, low and barrel-aged whiskey smooth, warming Sam's belly.
“...the whole of America is completely fucked up.”
The DJ was using a voice changer with a low mechanical edge to it. The sound of his real voice was frustratingly out of reach. The DJ took a deep breath that made the static crack and spark, uncomfortable to Sam’s ear.
“No one sees things, really understands things for how they are.”
As the words poured out of the speakers, Dean's face flashed unwittingly in front of Sam, breaking when Sam said he had to leave. Refusing to understand why Sam had to leave.
The voice continued, heedless. “If they do see things, they turn and run. Or hide. Take refuge in...whatever feels safe. Even if it's not real.”
Sam looked at his books, then his pile of notes, then the window outside. This world was his refuge, but what happened when the person you loved took refuge elsewhere? Dean didn't understand the real world - Dad took that away from them both - but at least Sam had managed to find the truth.
“People are so concerned with...with being the same. Fitting in isn't all it's cracked up to be. Safety is never real. You don't know...” A sharp laugh. “Man. I'm just a fucking ray of sunshine tonight ain't I? It's just... everything's fucked up. Everything-”
Sam didn’t study for the rest of the night. He listened to the DJ rant about everything from the fucked up nature of America, to people who scratched cars and didn’t leave a note, to the small portions of pancakes.
The complaints sounded like Dean, bitching on a hangover and unable to find coffee.
Only Dean had left him a voicemail the day before, in New York on a hunt and asking Sam where the bar was with all the shots. “I want a Rocky shot dude.”
Sam didn't call back.
The DJ kept Sam company the rest of the night, and reminded him of a life that Sam had left behind. That left a hole so big he wasn't sure normality was worth it.
**
“Happy Harry’s alone tonight and feeling horny. I want to hear what you’re feeling. What you’re doing. I don’t want to think about his hands or face. Or arms. Or who he’s probably fucking. Who’s with me?”
Sam nodded agreement into the darkness.
**
“Losers and listeners, there's been a change in the world of your friendly DJ. Happy Harry Hard on” - Sam snorted, it was the kind of name he'd have found funny when he was twelve. The kind of name Dean still would. Only Dean was a name Sam wasn't thinking about. “Harry has received mail. Email! I didn't think anyone was listening. I -I have a hundred mails. Most of you students. Shouldn’t you all be out getting stoned or drunk or laid? You disappoint me. If I was there I sure wouldn't be sat around listening to a DJ at night.”
Sam got into bed, placed the radio next to his ear, and turned it down low. “But while you’ve nothing better to do, I like that people are listening. I like the idea that a voice can go somewhere and hang out. A dirty thought in a nice clean mind.”
Sam shut his eyes and let the voice take over his world.
“Let's call someone.” A tapping on keys, a cough that the DJ didn't bother to hold back. “This is a good one. A girl says she got laid for the first time last night and wants to tell me all about it.”
There was the sound of a telephone. “Hello? Leia? Wait while I broadcast you to the nation Leia? So I hear you boldly went there last night.”
High-pitched giggling, so high-pitched Sam winced away from the radio. “Yeah.”
“So you want to talk about it? Was it good for you?”
More giggling. “It was hot. We did it five times. I came hard and wet and-”
“Hang on. Five times?” A whistle. “Tell me Leia. Was it bigger than a baby's arm?”
“Sure.” Another giggle. “I'm holding my hands out to show you how big.”
“This is radio, Leia.” The line went dead. “I don't think Leia got laid last night, listeners. I can smell a lie like a fart in a car.” There was a low laugh, a laugh that rung out and grabbed Sam low in his belly. “Man, that's frustrating. I'm alone and horny as a ten -peckered owl. I'll just have to get hard myself. Any of you the same way?” The same laugh, lower this time, the kind of laugh that preceded a drunken kiss, deep and messy and definitely leading to the bedroom. “Lying in bed, thinking of the guy or chick you should be with?”
Sam remembered; a series of stolen glances and forbidden thoughts. The locking away of feelings that shouldn't be there. The release of those in the shower, as Sam jerked himself off, day after day, picturing Dean as he stroked, imagining Dean's hands or mouth or both working his cock.
Then having to face Dean over breakfast.
Sam listened to the DJ talk, and pictured Dean, fresh from the shower, chest glistening with water. He remembered a time the towel had slipped when Dean turned to dress - Sam had stared at his firm ass, looked away just in time, cheeks burning.
Stanford didn't make those feelings any better, didn't stop him picturing Dean now as the DJ spoke. The joke was, the only good thing Sam could get out of it was that he didn't have to face Dean over breakfast.
“Are you wet? You thinking about what they'd be doing to you if they were there? I am. Mouth and hands. God. If I could do anything I wanted...” There was a heavy breath, the sound of hand slapping against skin. “I’m going blind. It’s gonna be a big one. Uh uh.”
Sam palmed himself, his cock getting harder at the sound. Surely the guy had to be making this up?
Even if he was making it up, hitting his hand against his thigh, panting hard into the mic to ruffle their feathers, it didn't matter. Sam pushed his hand into his boxers and stroked his cock firmly. The precome slid with his hand up his shaft. He followed the rhythm of the DJ's pants, shut his eyes and imagined Dean's hand on him, imagined he could feel Dean's body firm against his own, that the world wasn't twisted and all fucked up, that it was allowed, okay...
He came, fast and hard and shouting along with the DJ.
**
The next night there was static. The DJ must be away, or his wife must be back, or whatever the truth of it was. Sam raced to class to speak to Luis beforehand. Luis met his eager question with a laugh. “He's awesome isn't he? Was a couple of months between broadcasts last time. Man, some of the things he does-”
Sam nodded, swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
Sam tuned in night after night anyway, staying up late into the night hoping he'd come on. He studied while he waited, getting through it all quicker than usual.
It was funny how he felt the loss of a voice in the darkness. Funny how twenty months on, he missed the sight of Dean as much as ever.
**
A postcard from Dean.
Florida's too fucking hot. We'll be here a while Dad says. Lots of dead old people and ghosts holding grudges.
The beer is not cold enough.
I hope you're getting drunk and getting laid. What else is college for? Don't be one of those kids who wastes it.
A gap as if Dean intended to write more, but it had somehow ended up in the mail.
If Sam were there he'd be hating the hunt, he'd be shouting at Dad, he'd be jerking off in the shower and not sleeping at night while he waited for Dean to get home from doing God knows what.
Doing his own thing, living his own life, this was better. Dean wasn't something he could have whether he'd stayed or left.
This way was easier.
**
Metallica filled the airwaves. Where once Sam would have switched off, chasing away the memories, he pulled back. It would be worth it.
“We got more letters.” The DJ’s voice was quiet. Low as a whisper, as if it was an effort to speak. “Man. This one's a -” The sound of a phone being picked up. “You'll all see.”
Sam pushed his books aside and got into bed. He couldn't listen while he was studying. He wanted to focus all his attention on what was happening.
“Hello, is that, er, Lonely and Suicidal?”
“Yes.” A clipped out answer, quieter than the DJ. A male voice, probably around Sam's age.
The DJ raised his voice to compensate. “I guess we know why you've written. Why do you think I can help? Why would you write to a fucker like me? I sit around and play music on a pirate radio station, 'cause I can't fucking say what I think outside. You think I...”
“You understand. How no one understands me. How no one sees. How he doesn't see.”
“Ah.” A swallow. “So you like someone and he doesn't like you?”
“Yeah. He's not even gay. He has a girlfriend. He sucks her face in front of me all the time and I try not to think about it, but-”
“But it eats you up inside. Man.” There was a clack clack sound, as if the DJ was tapping a pen on a table. “It's hard to like someone when you feel you shouldn't.”
“Yeah.”
Silence. The DJ let out his breath slowly. “Yeah, it is,” he said in the end.
“It eats me up inside. I can’t… I want to die. I don't want to exist. I want to go somewhere else. Like...you think there's a heaven?”
“Assuming there is a heaven, who would ever want to go there? There's nothing to do! Fucking boring!” The DJ laughed. “Here you can find someone who does want you. You can put the feelings aside, focus on something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don't know. But you shouldn't-” The DJ broke off. “I'm the worst person to give this advice. I don't let go. I can't move on and fucking think about sunshine and daisies when I'm picturing him with every girl I'm screwing... but your situation isn't mine. You know? You have a family?”
“Sure.”
“Friends?”
“Yeah. They don't know though, they don't know-”
“Would they care if they did? I mean, fuck, you're thinking about ending it, what could be worse? Some looks? You should see some of the reactions I get. People not knowing-” The DJ paused, there was a loud gulp. Sam imagined him drinking. Tequila. No, bourbon. It was a voice for bourbon. “You shouldn't be ashamed. Fuck, I'm sick of being ashamed.” The DJ's voice trembled, then he spoke again, louder and clearer. “I don't mind being dejected and rejected but I'm not going to be ashamed about it. What you feel is real. You can't help it. You can only help what you do with it. You haven't acted on it. You haven't made him feel bad. You're the strong one. Can you be stronger? 'Cause your family, you have family right?”
“Yeah. Three sisters.”
“There you go. You wanna make them cry? Promise you won't kill yourself?”
“I'll try.”
The DJ hung up. He let out a loud whistle that distorted the static. It hissed loudly, making the silence that followed feel all the more loud.
“Man, there's another email here.” The DJ's voice was quiet. Sam moved his head closer to the radio to hear it. “What am I, Dear Deirdre? If you saw me in person you wouldn't be putting your heart on your fucking sleeve and pouring it all out. Okay. Last one, then it's loud music and I get out my cock-ring? Okay?”
Sam nodded into the space.
“Hey. Laurie?”
A girl's low voice. “Yeah. Laurie.”
“Laurie. You've... Are you sure you want to talk about this?”
“Yeah. Definitely.” Laurie's voice was wavering. She cleared her throat. “Definitely.”
“Tell us what happened Laurie.”
“It's... my roommate's boyfriend. I like him. I mean, we saw him at the same time, and she went up and spoke to him, so he's hers now. That's fine. But last night, he kind of-”
“Kind of what, Laurie?”
“We all got drunk, and, my roommate, she passed out on her bed. It was just us left in the other room. And we kissed. Oh God. I'm a terrible person. I kissed him.”
“And?”
“And then I stopped it. I told him no. And he said if I didn't-he said if I didn't, then he'd tell her I made a move on him.”
“Right. What happened then Laurie?”
“I kissed him again. I even... I blew him.” There was a silence that the DJ didn't interrupt, though Sam heard several loud breaths that must belong to him. “And that shut him up. I pretended to feel sick and drunk and he left me to throw up. But I think he'll bring it up again tonight. What am I going to do? Fuck. I screwed up. Big time. I have no idea-” Laurie gave a sob.
“Laurie. Listen to me. Feeling screwed up in a screwed up place in a screwed up time, does not mean you are screwed up. If you catch my drift.” The DJ hit his hand hard on something; the reverberation made Sam jump. “Maybe you shouldn't have kissed him, but everyone fucks up now and again. I'd say he was pretty damn charming and made it hard to say no, right?”
“Well, maybe, but-”
“And then he blackmailed you. I mean that's as bad as - this isn't a good guy, Laurie. I think you called 'cause you want to tell your roommate, right?”
“Right. But she'll never believe me. She'll believe him.”
“Maybe she will. But what else are you gonna do? Fuck him so he won't tell her?” Laurie tried to speak but the DJ carried on talking. “She might not believe you... people don't always believe you when you tell them the truth but...” A brief silence. Sam imagined the DJ shrugging, or throwing his hands in the air. He imagined him forgetting that people couldn't see him. “She'll see it in the end. And if she doesn't-”
“Yeah.”
“You know this isn't your fault, right?” There was a note of anxiousness in the DJ's voice. “It's not-” There was silence. A long silence.
Laurie interrupted it. “Happy Harry?”
“Sorry. I was just thinking how strong people can be. When they need to be. I was thinking how I wish my brother were here. He'd know what to say better than me. He's Mr. Deep. Tell me the guy's name so I can make sure he doesn't do it again.”
Laurie gave a barking laugh. Sam was too focused on the guy's last words to pay attention to her reply. “Tell me the guy's name-” The fierceness behind it, the certainty... it was like Dean on a hunt.
But Dean was in Florida. Wasn't he?
Dean had been in New York during the last broadcast. Hadn’t he?
The words of the DJ raced through Sam's head. They were things Dean would say. The brother - that could be Sam.
It was just wishful thinking.
**
The next day campus was buzzing. A key member of the soccer team, Matt Winmore, had been punched leaving a bar. His girlfriend Sally was distraught; people were putting two and two together about the lack of sorrow from her best friend Lorelai and well, coming up with the right answer as far as Sam was concerned.
“Fucker had it coming, did you hear that radio show?” Luis said, as soon as he saw Sam.
“I did yeah.”
“’Course people are saying the police now want to interview the DJ, ‘cause they’ve heard about the show. Likely he'll be out of town already. Never stays long.”
“No,” Sam said. “Never stays long.” A lifestyle Sam could relate to.
**
It was two months, though it seemed longer, before Sam heard from the DJ again. Two months of Sam thinking he saw the Impala waiting around a corner, of listening to hours and hours of static in the vain hope that one moment of static would turn into a voice he knew. Of hoping that he wasn't dreaming it.
Two months during which several girls came forward to say Matt Winmore had coerced them into sex. While the police looked into charges, Matt dropped out.
The police said they were looking for the phantom DJ - on accusations of causing bodily harm, and of transmitting without a license. A friend of a friend of a friend of Luis's said they weren't looking very hard.
**
Sam aced his finals - all the staying in to listen out for the DJ paid off.
There was one party after another. Luis dragged him around several of them, and introduced Sam to one girl after another. A philosophy major who talked too much, a shy blonde Sam recognized from the library, a scholarship student like him who Sam kissed in the doorway to the party, hard and messy, losing himself in her soft curves.
Until she invited him home and he said no. He had a radio show to listen out for.
Hungover and nursing a coffee the next day - a coffee made the way Dean would have drunk it - Sam's eye was caught by a figure out of the window.
A man who looked exactly like Dean.
Sam pushed his coffee away and ran out of the coffeehouse toward the rapidly retreating guy. He disappeared around the corner, and by the time Sam got there, was gone.
**
Sam turned the dial that night. He wanted to hear if the DJ was there. Just after midnight, a slurred voice started up.
“Hey. Hey. Any of you out there? You all home already? Those of you who go home. If you're around, drop me a mail. You know the address. I've a bottle of Tequila. I'm gonna start it while y'all listen to BOC.”
Sam pulled his computer close. He opened up an email, and started to type. If this was Dean, if this was Dean's fucked up way of communicating, Sam would give him a chance.
The song strains died away. The DJ's voice came, clear this time. “We got mail. Couple interesting mails actually. There's this one. Sue. Let's speak to Sue.” The familiar tapping on his phone followed.
“Hey, Happy Harry!”
“Hey, Sue. You're more cheerful than in your mail.” The DJ took an audible slurp of tequila.
“You actually called. I didn't think you would.”
“’Course. So you say you've felt under pressure in the finals, to get perfect grades for your Dad? How'd the finals go?”
“I aced 'em. I think.”
“I can see why that would be a real bummer.” A slam of a glass on the table.
“It's not that. It's just...Mom was an actress. She gave it up to marry Dad. I want to be an actress. They both think I should be sensible. Have a real career. Mom says she was young and foolish and that I'm the same. But I'm not. I... but I can't let either of them down.”
“Families. They-” The DJ took another drink and smacked his lips together loudly. “I get family obligation. I really do. They want you to do something, they rely on you, you have to do it. I get it.”
“It's making me miserable. Is it right to be miserable? To be really unhappy just to make them happy?”
“Depends. Sometimes... sometimes if you love people you have to put them first, no matter what you think. You know? If their happiness means one thing, then ...then you put aside what you-” The DJ slammed the bottle of Tequila down. “But maybe it works both ways. Maybe people shouldn't fucking ask things of you. Shouldn't leave and-”
“Leave? I-” Sue sounded confused. Sam didn't blame her. He inched closer to the radio, imagining that if he got close enough, if he listened hard enough, he could reach in and touch Dean.
“In your case. There's gotta be drama clubs at college, right? Colleges always have that shit.”
“Yeah-”
“Can't you join that? Then after college try for an acting job. Get the degree they want, then do what you want. Everybody wins.” The DJ gave a big sigh.
“What if my grades suffer 'cause I'm acting?”
“Too fucking bad.” The DJ snorted. “You'll have to work harder.” He hung up. “Sorry Sue gotta cut you off, something much more interesting's come in. I really shouldn't-” There was a pause. “Fuck it.” The sound of dialing filled the room.
When Sam's cell rang, he jumped out of his seat. He answered it cautiously. “Hello?”
“Sam. You're on the air.” Sam almost felt the DJ's warm, alcohol fuelled breath in his ear. There was a squeal from where the voice came out of the radio too. Sam reached over and turned it down. The DJ lowered his voice. Sam felt like he was the only person listening. “You want to tell the audience what you told me?”
“No. I want you to tell it.” Sam gripped tightly onto his cell.
“Okay. Here goes. ‘Dear DJ. I left my family to come here. To college. They wouldn't get it. They didn't understand why I had to be here. Every time I hear from them - and I never hear from my Dad, only my brother - it's just reminders of what I gave up. I didn't think college meant I had to give up my family too. I feel guilty every day. I miss my brother every minute of every day. I write lists of stuff I want to tell him that I never send. I have conversations with him in my head.’”
A silence. The DJ breathed heavily into the mic. “Go on.” Sam said.
“I didn't want to leave but I had to go. I had to try and live this life. I don't know if they'll ever understand. I want them to. I love...” The DJ sighed.
“There's more. Isn't there?” Sam's knuckles felt like they were going to break.
“Look, Sam. I'm sure - maybe your family doesn't get it. Like Sue's family don't get the acting. Maybe they don't get college. But I'm sure your brother wants you to be happy. I'm sure that's all he wants.”
“Dean-”
The DJ hung up. Dean hung up. Sam searched for Dean's number on his cell, and hit dial, but he didn't answer.
He called again and again, the cell never going to voicemail, just ringing and ringing and never connecting.
In the end Sam left his room and went and banged loudly on Luis's door.
Luis opened his door, rubbing his eyes with one hand and leaning heavily against the doorframe with the other. “What the fuck? Sam?”
“How would I trace a radio signal?”
“What?”
“The DJ. I'm gonna find him.”
Luis ran his hand through his hair. “Why? You're that big a fan?” Luis shrugged. “Guy in my physics class was bragging about how he could triangulate the signal. 412, next block.”
**
A motel way on the outskirts of town, where it started to become freeway. Luis's friend had been pretty certain this was the area the signal was coming from, and as soon as Sam saw the run down motel, advertising free porn, he knew it was.
The Impala outside confirmed it. Sam went into the reception area.
The guy on duty leapt up with a start. “Rooms all taken,” he said with a drawl.
“I know. I need to know which room my brother is in. Few inches shorter than me. Attitude. He's...” Hot didn't feel like the right description.
“Drives the awesome car?”
“Yes.”
“If he's your brother why'd he not give you the room number?”
“It's his birthday. I'm surprising him. We had a falling out -”
The guy sighed. “One on the end. Number twenty.”
Sam paused outside it. There was silence inside. Dean's broadcast must be over for the night. He knocked, the code knock they used to use when they were kids. There was a beat or two when Sam heard only the loud knocking of his heart, then the rustling of bed covers, and the slide of a chain.
“Hello?” Dean peered out the door, slid it open wider when he saw Sam. “Sam?” Dean was wearing only boxers, hanging low on his hips. “Fuck. You found me.”
“Didn't you want me to? Wasn’t that the point of the radio show?” Sam peered behind Dean, and made out the shape of equipment, lying discarded by the window. An half empty bottle of Tequila sat by a microphone and showed itself in the glaze of Dean's eyes.
“Didn't think you'd want to see me.” Dean said. His hand was firmly holding the door half shut, his body stopping Sam from coming in.
Then Sam looked into his eyes, and read the only invitation he needed. He wondered how long it had been there, why he'd never seen it before. He had a million questions.
He ignored all of them, and leaned in and kissed Dean square on the mouth. Dean’s resistance lasted only a surprised second.
Sam kicked the door shut as they carried on in a path toward the bed. His hands roved over Dean's bare back, taking in every line, every contour. He had to let go to let Dean slide off his coat, pull off his t-shirt. Sam kicked off the shoes he'd hastily pulled onto bare feet not two hours before. They paused in front of the bed.
Dean pulled away from Sam's mouth, took away the delicious taste of Tequila and salt and Dean that had been there.
“You don't-”
“Oh I do,” Dean said. He kissed Sam's bare shoulder, and Sam let him twist them around until Sam was being pushed back onto the bed. “Thought about it so much Sam. Wanted to-”
“Me too-whatever you want- anything you want-”
Dean's tongue made circles on Sam's chest. He slid his hands into the top of Sam's jeans. Sam bucked up, trying to press his body against Dean's, wanting contact, more contact.
Dean chuckled, warm breath making Sam's stomach tingle. “I’m not patient either.” He unsnapped Sam's jeans.
“Thought about this-so long-”
“Me too - Gonna suck you off now, Sammy, gonna make it worth the-” Dean swallowed his words as he unzipped Sam's jeans and slid the boxers down. Sam heard Dean's intake of breath. His cock was hardening already, and Dean leaned over, leaving Sam's jeans and boxers around his ankles as he took him in his mouth.
Sam thought maybe it was heaven right there, looking down seeing Dean working his cock, feeling those lips around him, the warmth of Dean encircling him. Building in Sam's groin and up through his body until-
He thought he'd never come like it again, but when Dean was done, licking his lips and running a thumb over his bottom lip, he looked up and met Dean's eyes.
“Night’s not over yet Sam. Wanna be inside you. So hard. Can I do that? Will you-”
“Yes. Yes.” Sam banged his head back against the pillow. The questions - they could worry about those in the morning.
Dean pulled Sam's jeans off his feet and rustled in a bag. He nestled between Sam's legs again, pulling Sam's knees up. “It'll hurt but-”
“I don't care-” Sam met Dean's gaze. “Do it.”
Dean took his time lubing his hand, sliding one finger into Sam, past the point of the burn, past the point when Sam nearly begged him to stop, nearly couldn't take it. Then Dean hit a point that was ohsogood, that made Sam think he'd never truly been fucked before, had never known what sex was, until Dean was jacking him open with two fingers, then three, then was sliding into him, slowly. The pain was almost too great, and then Dean was inside him, balls slapping against Sam’s ass. Sam reached down and jacked himself off, matching Dean's steady rhythm.
Two bodies in unison.
**
Sam woke to find his nose pressed into Dean's shoulder. He shifted, and met Dean's dark gaze.
“Morning.” Dean was hesitant.
“I'd have thought you were good with morning afters.” Sam slid up until his face was on the pillow next to Dean's.”
“They aren't usually with my brother.”
“Dean-”
“I'm sorry, Sam, I-”
Sam sat up. “Sorry you did it, or sorry 'cause you gotta be fucking responsible for everything?”
Dean swung his legs over the other side of the bed, his back to Sam. “Sorry 'cause I tried so hard not to do this.”
“But you wanted it.”
Dean hesitated, then gave a nod. “Yes.” Dean turned.
“Why the radio show? Why not just call me?”
Dean picked at the sheet, balling it into his hand. “I saw the equipment in a store. Figured there was things I wanted to say, not just to you, just...” Dean gave a short laugh. “Dad doesn't listen like you used to.” Dean shrugged. “I don't like you being gone.” He said it matter-of-factly, the same way he said, turn left or that's my pie.
“I don't like being away from you either. I want this.” Sam took Dean's hand, rested it high on his own thigh. “I want this more than anything.”
“More than college? More than normality?” Dean said the word as if it was a foreign language.
“You want it more than hunting? More than Dad?”
Dean slid his hand away. “That's why this shouldn't have happened. We've screwed it up and made it worse.”
“Maybe... maybe someday we'll make it work. After college. Maybe Dad will kill what killed Mom and-”
“And it'll be over and we'll settle down in a house with a white picket fence and have a happily ever after?” Dean stood up and strode away from Sam, pulling his clothes on in a hurry. “I shouldn't have done the broadcast.”
“I liked them. I thought... I felt close to you. Even when it wasn't you. When I didn't think it was you.” Sam slid out of bed, and stood naked in front of Dean.
Dean twisted to face Sam, now fully dressed.
“Sam. I can't stop you living your life.” Sam felt Dean's eyes watching him closely. “I want that for you. I'd sacrifice this for that.”
“I don't know if I can.”
Dean smiled. “It's what we're going to do. Okay?”
Sam nodded, tears springing in his eyes. “Okay.” He grabbed his clothes, and pulled them on quickly. “Okay.” He brushed Dean's lips softly with his own, and left.
**
The new year began and the radio stayed quiet, a faint hum of static in the background, a steady reminder of Dean. Then one evening, when Sam was trying to decide whether to read one more chapter or go to sleep, it crackled into life.
“I'm sure you've all missed me. Who wouldn't? I'm very loveable. This one's for...this one's for you, S. I'm always here, 'kay?”
An unknown song started up, and Sam smiled. He had Dean as company, even if he was just hanging out with his voice. He'd figure out the balance, someday. In the meantime, he pumped up the volume, lay back, and listened.
**
I hope you enjoyed.
In the meantime, you'll have to make do with this offering from my brain. With MUCH thanks to oxoniensis for the really fine beta - any merit it contains is 'cause of her. With MUCH thanks to gigglingkat for de-britting it for me. I appreciate both because they got back to me in time for me to post this FOR your birthday - then the internets where I have been weren't working! So it is late! Sorry!
Title: Just Go Somewhere and Hang Out.
Rating: NC17 to play it safe
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Warning: Sex. Language. The DJ’s chats include themes like suicide and coercion into sex.
Summary: Stanford era. Sam becomes obsessed by a pirate radio DJ.
Based on the movie “Pump Up the Volume” & all good lines within are unashamedly stolen from it.
Sam twisted the dial and listened for sound - music or voice, anything that he could turn into company to go along with his studies.
He needed something to fill the silence.
A voice leapt from the depths, low and barrel-aged whiskey smooth, warming Sam's belly.
“...the whole of America is completely fucked up.”
The DJ was using a voice changer with a low mechanical edge to it. The sound of his real voice was frustratingly out of reach. The DJ took a deep breath that made the static crack and spark, uncomfortable to Sam’s ear.
“No one sees things, really understands things for how they are.”
As the words poured out of the speakers, Dean's face flashed unwittingly in front of Sam, breaking when Sam said he had to leave. Refusing to understand why Sam had to leave.
The voice continued, heedless. “If they do see things, they turn and run. Or hide. Take refuge in...whatever feels safe. Even if it's not real.”
Sam looked at his books, then his pile of notes, then the window outside. This world was his refuge, but what happened when the person you loved took refuge elsewhere? Dean didn't understand the real world - Dad took that away from them both - but at least Sam had managed to find the truth.
“People are so concerned with...with being the same. Fitting in isn't all it's cracked up to be. Safety is never real. You don't know...” A sharp laugh. “Man. I'm just a fucking ray of sunshine tonight ain't I? It's just... everything's fucked up. Everything-”
Sam didn’t study for the rest of the night. He listened to the DJ rant about everything from the fucked up nature of America, to people who scratched cars and didn’t leave a note, to the small portions of pancakes.
The complaints sounded like Dean, bitching on a hangover and unable to find coffee.
Only Dean had left him a voicemail the day before, in New York on a hunt and asking Sam where the bar was with all the shots. “I want a Rocky shot dude.”
Sam didn't call back.
The DJ kept Sam company the rest of the night, and reminded him of a life that Sam had left behind. That left a hole so big he wasn't sure normality was worth it.
**
“Happy Harry’s alone tonight and feeling horny. I want to hear what you’re feeling. What you’re doing. I don’t want to think about his hands or face. Or arms. Or who he’s probably fucking. Who’s with me?”
Sam nodded agreement into the darkness.
**
“Losers and listeners, there's been a change in the world of your friendly DJ. Happy Harry Hard on” - Sam snorted, it was the kind of name he'd have found funny when he was twelve. The kind of name Dean still would. Only Dean was a name Sam wasn't thinking about. “Harry has received mail. Email! I didn't think anyone was listening. I -I have a hundred mails. Most of you students. Shouldn’t you all be out getting stoned or drunk or laid? You disappoint me. If I was there I sure wouldn't be sat around listening to a DJ at night.”
Sam got into bed, placed the radio next to his ear, and turned it down low. “But while you’ve nothing better to do, I like that people are listening. I like the idea that a voice can go somewhere and hang out. A dirty thought in a nice clean mind.”
Sam shut his eyes and let the voice take over his world.
“Let's call someone.” A tapping on keys, a cough that the DJ didn't bother to hold back. “This is a good one. A girl says she got laid for the first time last night and wants to tell me all about it.”
There was the sound of a telephone. “Hello? Leia? Wait while I broadcast you to the nation Leia? So I hear you boldly went there last night.”
High-pitched giggling, so high-pitched Sam winced away from the radio. “Yeah.”
“So you want to talk about it? Was it good for you?”
More giggling. “It was hot. We did it five times. I came hard and wet and-”
“Hang on. Five times?” A whistle. “Tell me Leia. Was it bigger than a baby's arm?”
“Sure.” Another giggle. “I'm holding my hands out to show you how big.”
“This is radio, Leia.” The line went dead. “I don't think Leia got laid last night, listeners. I can smell a lie like a fart in a car.” There was a low laugh, a laugh that rung out and grabbed Sam low in his belly. “Man, that's frustrating. I'm alone and horny as a ten -peckered owl. I'll just have to get hard myself. Any of you the same way?” The same laugh, lower this time, the kind of laugh that preceded a drunken kiss, deep and messy and definitely leading to the bedroom. “Lying in bed, thinking of the guy or chick you should be with?”
Sam remembered; a series of stolen glances and forbidden thoughts. The locking away of feelings that shouldn't be there. The release of those in the shower, as Sam jerked himself off, day after day, picturing Dean as he stroked, imagining Dean's hands or mouth or both working his cock.
Then having to face Dean over breakfast.
Sam listened to the DJ talk, and pictured Dean, fresh from the shower, chest glistening with water. He remembered a time the towel had slipped when Dean turned to dress - Sam had stared at his firm ass, looked away just in time, cheeks burning.
Stanford didn't make those feelings any better, didn't stop him picturing Dean now as the DJ spoke. The joke was, the only good thing Sam could get out of it was that he didn't have to face Dean over breakfast.
“Are you wet? You thinking about what they'd be doing to you if they were there? I am. Mouth and hands. God. If I could do anything I wanted...” There was a heavy breath, the sound of hand slapping against skin. “I’m going blind. It’s gonna be a big one. Uh uh.”
Sam palmed himself, his cock getting harder at the sound. Surely the guy had to be making this up?
Even if he was making it up, hitting his hand against his thigh, panting hard into the mic to ruffle their feathers, it didn't matter. Sam pushed his hand into his boxers and stroked his cock firmly. The precome slid with his hand up his shaft. He followed the rhythm of the DJ's pants, shut his eyes and imagined Dean's hand on him, imagined he could feel Dean's body firm against his own, that the world wasn't twisted and all fucked up, that it was allowed, okay...
He came, fast and hard and shouting along with the DJ.
**
The next night there was static. The DJ must be away, or his wife must be back, or whatever the truth of it was. Sam raced to class to speak to Luis beforehand. Luis met his eager question with a laugh. “He's awesome isn't he? Was a couple of months between broadcasts last time. Man, some of the things he does-”
Sam nodded, swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
Sam tuned in night after night anyway, staying up late into the night hoping he'd come on. He studied while he waited, getting through it all quicker than usual.
It was funny how he felt the loss of a voice in the darkness. Funny how twenty months on, he missed the sight of Dean as much as ever.
**
A postcard from Dean.
Florida's too fucking hot. We'll be here a while Dad says. Lots of dead old people and ghosts holding grudges.
The beer is not cold enough.
I hope you're getting drunk and getting laid. What else is college for? Don't be one of those kids who wastes it.
A gap as if Dean intended to write more, but it had somehow ended up in the mail.
If Sam were there he'd be hating the hunt, he'd be shouting at Dad, he'd be jerking off in the shower and not sleeping at night while he waited for Dean to get home from doing God knows what.
Doing his own thing, living his own life, this was better. Dean wasn't something he could have whether he'd stayed or left.
This way was easier.
**
Metallica filled the airwaves. Where once Sam would have switched off, chasing away the memories, he pulled back. It would be worth it.
“We got more letters.” The DJ’s voice was quiet. Low as a whisper, as if it was an effort to speak. “Man. This one's a -” The sound of a phone being picked up. “You'll all see.”
Sam pushed his books aside and got into bed. He couldn't listen while he was studying. He wanted to focus all his attention on what was happening.
“Hello, is that, er, Lonely and Suicidal?”
“Yes.” A clipped out answer, quieter than the DJ. A male voice, probably around Sam's age.
The DJ raised his voice to compensate. “I guess we know why you've written. Why do you think I can help? Why would you write to a fucker like me? I sit around and play music on a pirate radio station, 'cause I can't fucking say what I think outside. You think I...”
“You understand. How no one understands me. How no one sees. How he doesn't see.”
“Ah.” A swallow. “So you like someone and he doesn't like you?”
“Yeah. He's not even gay. He has a girlfriend. He sucks her face in front of me all the time and I try not to think about it, but-”
“But it eats you up inside. Man.” There was a clack clack sound, as if the DJ was tapping a pen on a table. “It's hard to like someone when you feel you shouldn't.”
“Yeah.”
Silence. The DJ let out his breath slowly. “Yeah, it is,” he said in the end.
“It eats me up inside. I can’t… I want to die. I don't want to exist. I want to go somewhere else. Like...you think there's a heaven?”
“Assuming there is a heaven, who would ever want to go there? There's nothing to do! Fucking boring!” The DJ laughed. “Here you can find someone who does want you. You can put the feelings aside, focus on something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don't know. But you shouldn't-” The DJ broke off. “I'm the worst person to give this advice. I don't let go. I can't move on and fucking think about sunshine and daisies when I'm picturing him with every girl I'm screwing... but your situation isn't mine. You know? You have a family?”
“Sure.”
“Friends?”
“Yeah. They don't know though, they don't know-”
“Would they care if they did? I mean, fuck, you're thinking about ending it, what could be worse? Some looks? You should see some of the reactions I get. People not knowing-” The DJ paused, there was a loud gulp. Sam imagined him drinking. Tequila. No, bourbon. It was a voice for bourbon. “You shouldn't be ashamed. Fuck, I'm sick of being ashamed.” The DJ's voice trembled, then he spoke again, louder and clearer. “I don't mind being dejected and rejected but I'm not going to be ashamed about it. What you feel is real. You can't help it. You can only help what you do with it. You haven't acted on it. You haven't made him feel bad. You're the strong one. Can you be stronger? 'Cause your family, you have family right?”
“Yeah. Three sisters.”
“There you go. You wanna make them cry? Promise you won't kill yourself?”
“I'll try.”
The DJ hung up. He let out a loud whistle that distorted the static. It hissed loudly, making the silence that followed feel all the more loud.
“Man, there's another email here.” The DJ's voice was quiet. Sam moved his head closer to the radio to hear it. “What am I, Dear Deirdre? If you saw me in person you wouldn't be putting your heart on your fucking sleeve and pouring it all out. Okay. Last one, then it's loud music and I get out my cock-ring? Okay?”
Sam nodded into the space.
“Hey. Laurie?”
A girl's low voice. “Yeah. Laurie.”
“Laurie. You've... Are you sure you want to talk about this?”
“Yeah. Definitely.” Laurie's voice was wavering. She cleared her throat. “Definitely.”
“Tell us what happened Laurie.”
“It's... my roommate's boyfriend. I like him. I mean, we saw him at the same time, and she went up and spoke to him, so he's hers now. That's fine. But last night, he kind of-”
“Kind of what, Laurie?”
“We all got drunk, and, my roommate, she passed out on her bed. It was just us left in the other room. And we kissed. Oh God. I'm a terrible person. I kissed him.”
“And?”
“And then I stopped it. I told him no. And he said if I didn't-he said if I didn't, then he'd tell her I made a move on him.”
“Right. What happened then Laurie?”
“I kissed him again. I even... I blew him.” There was a silence that the DJ didn't interrupt, though Sam heard several loud breaths that must belong to him. “And that shut him up. I pretended to feel sick and drunk and he left me to throw up. But I think he'll bring it up again tonight. What am I going to do? Fuck. I screwed up. Big time. I have no idea-” Laurie gave a sob.
“Laurie. Listen to me. Feeling screwed up in a screwed up place in a screwed up time, does not mean you are screwed up. If you catch my drift.” The DJ hit his hand hard on something; the reverberation made Sam jump. “Maybe you shouldn't have kissed him, but everyone fucks up now and again. I'd say he was pretty damn charming and made it hard to say no, right?”
“Well, maybe, but-”
“And then he blackmailed you. I mean that's as bad as - this isn't a good guy, Laurie. I think you called 'cause you want to tell your roommate, right?”
“Right. But she'll never believe me. She'll believe him.”
“Maybe she will. But what else are you gonna do? Fuck him so he won't tell her?” Laurie tried to speak but the DJ carried on talking. “She might not believe you... people don't always believe you when you tell them the truth but...” A brief silence. Sam imagined the DJ shrugging, or throwing his hands in the air. He imagined him forgetting that people couldn't see him. “She'll see it in the end. And if she doesn't-”
“Yeah.”
“You know this isn't your fault, right?” There was a note of anxiousness in the DJ's voice. “It's not-” There was silence. A long silence.
Laurie interrupted it. “Happy Harry?”
“Sorry. I was just thinking how strong people can be. When they need to be. I was thinking how I wish my brother were here. He'd know what to say better than me. He's Mr. Deep. Tell me the guy's name so I can make sure he doesn't do it again.”
Laurie gave a barking laugh. Sam was too focused on the guy's last words to pay attention to her reply. “Tell me the guy's name-” The fierceness behind it, the certainty... it was like Dean on a hunt.
But Dean was in Florida. Wasn't he?
Dean had been in New York during the last broadcast. Hadn’t he?
The words of the DJ raced through Sam's head. They were things Dean would say. The brother - that could be Sam.
It was just wishful thinking.
**
The next day campus was buzzing. A key member of the soccer team, Matt Winmore, had been punched leaving a bar. His girlfriend Sally was distraught; people were putting two and two together about the lack of sorrow from her best friend Lorelai and well, coming up with the right answer as far as Sam was concerned.
“Fucker had it coming, did you hear that radio show?” Luis said, as soon as he saw Sam.
“I did yeah.”
“’Course people are saying the police now want to interview the DJ, ‘cause they’ve heard about the show. Likely he'll be out of town already. Never stays long.”
“No,” Sam said. “Never stays long.” A lifestyle Sam could relate to.
**
It was two months, though it seemed longer, before Sam heard from the DJ again. Two months of Sam thinking he saw the Impala waiting around a corner, of listening to hours and hours of static in the vain hope that one moment of static would turn into a voice he knew. Of hoping that he wasn't dreaming it.
Two months during which several girls came forward to say Matt Winmore had coerced them into sex. While the police looked into charges, Matt dropped out.
The police said they were looking for the phantom DJ - on accusations of causing bodily harm, and of transmitting without a license. A friend of a friend of a friend of Luis's said they weren't looking very hard.
**
Sam aced his finals - all the staying in to listen out for the DJ paid off.
There was one party after another. Luis dragged him around several of them, and introduced Sam to one girl after another. A philosophy major who talked too much, a shy blonde Sam recognized from the library, a scholarship student like him who Sam kissed in the doorway to the party, hard and messy, losing himself in her soft curves.
Until she invited him home and he said no. He had a radio show to listen out for.
Hungover and nursing a coffee the next day - a coffee made the way Dean would have drunk it - Sam's eye was caught by a figure out of the window.
A man who looked exactly like Dean.
Sam pushed his coffee away and ran out of the coffeehouse toward the rapidly retreating guy. He disappeared around the corner, and by the time Sam got there, was gone.
**
Sam turned the dial that night. He wanted to hear if the DJ was there. Just after midnight, a slurred voice started up.
“Hey. Hey. Any of you out there? You all home already? Those of you who go home. If you're around, drop me a mail. You know the address. I've a bottle of Tequila. I'm gonna start it while y'all listen to BOC.”
Sam pulled his computer close. He opened up an email, and started to type. If this was Dean, if this was Dean's fucked up way of communicating, Sam would give him a chance.
The song strains died away. The DJ's voice came, clear this time. “We got mail. Couple interesting mails actually. There's this one. Sue. Let's speak to Sue.” The familiar tapping on his phone followed.
“Hey, Happy Harry!”
“Hey, Sue. You're more cheerful than in your mail.” The DJ took an audible slurp of tequila.
“You actually called. I didn't think you would.”
“’Course. So you say you've felt under pressure in the finals, to get perfect grades for your Dad? How'd the finals go?”
“I aced 'em. I think.”
“I can see why that would be a real bummer.” A slam of a glass on the table.
“It's not that. It's just...Mom was an actress. She gave it up to marry Dad. I want to be an actress. They both think I should be sensible. Have a real career. Mom says she was young and foolish and that I'm the same. But I'm not. I... but I can't let either of them down.”
“Families. They-” The DJ took another drink and smacked his lips together loudly. “I get family obligation. I really do. They want you to do something, they rely on you, you have to do it. I get it.”
“It's making me miserable. Is it right to be miserable? To be really unhappy just to make them happy?”
“Depends. Sometimes... sometimes if you love people you have to put them first, no matter what you think. You know? If their happiness means one thing, then ...then you put aside what you-” The DJ slammed the bottle of Tequila down. “But maybe it works both ways. Maybe people shouldn't fucking ask things of you. Shouldn't leave and-”
“Leave? I-” Sue sounded confused. Sam didn't blame her. He inched closer to the radio, imagining that if he got close enough, if he listened hard enough, he could reach in and touch Dean.
“In your case. There's gotta be drama clubs at college, right? Colleges always have that shit.”
“Yeah-”
“Can't you join that? Then after college try for an acting job. Get the degree they want, then do what you want. Everybody wins.” The DJ gave a big sigh.
“What if my grades suffer 'cause I'm acting?”
“Too fucking bad.” The DJ snorted. “You'll have to work harder.” He hung up. “Sorry Sue gotta cut you off, something much more interesting's come in. I really shouldn't-” There was a pause. “Fuck it.” The sound of dialing filled the room.
When Sam's cell rang, he jumped out of his seat. He answered it cautiously. “Hello?”
“Sam. You're on the air.” Sam almost felt the DJ's warm, alcohol fuelled breath in his ear. There was a squeal from where the voice came out of the radio too. Sam reached over and turned it down. The DJ lowered his voice. Sam felt like he was the only person listening. “You want to tell the audience what you told me?”
“No. I want you to tell it.” Sam gripped tightly onto his cell.
“Okay. Here goes. ‘Dear DJ. I left my family to come here. To college. They wouldn't get it. They didn't understand why I had to be here. Every time I hear from them - and I never hear from my Dad, only my brother - it's just reminders of what I gave up. I didn't think college meant I had to give up my family too. I feel guilty every day. I miss my brother every minute of every day. I write lists of stuff I want to tell him that I never send. I have conversations with him in my head.’”
A silence. The DJ breathed heavily into the mic. “Go on.” Sam said.
“I didn't want to leave but I had to go. I had to try and live this life. I don't know if they'll ever understand. I want them to. I love...” The DJ sighed.
“There's more. Isn't there?” Sam's knuckles felt like they were going to break.
“Look, Sam. I'm sure - maybe your family doesn't get it. Like Sue's family don't get the acting. Maybe they don't get college. But I'm sure your brother wants you to be happy. I'm sure that's all he wants.”
“Dean-”
The DJ hung up. Dean hung up. Sam searched for Dean's number on his cell, and hit dial, but he didn't answer.
He called again and again, the cell never going to voicemail, just ringing and ringing and never connecting.
In the end Sam left his room and went and banged loudly on Luis's door.
Luis opened his door, rubbing his eyes with one hand and leaning heavily against the doorframe with the other. “What the fuck? Sam?”
“How would I trace a radio signal?”
“What?”
“The DJ. I'm gonna find him.”
Luis ran his hand through his hair. “Why? You're that big a fan?” Luis shrugged. “Guy in my physics class was bragging about how he could triangulate the signal. 412, next block.”
**
A motel way on the outskirts of town, where it started to become freeway. Luis's friend had been pretty certain this was the area the signal was coming from, and as soon as Sam saw the run down motel, advertising free porn, he knew it was.
The Impala outside confirmed it. Sam went into the reception area.
The guy on duty leapt up with a start. “Rooms all taken,” he said with a drawl.
“I know. I need to know which room my brother is in. Few inches shorter than me. Attitude. He's...” Hot didn't feel like the right description.
“Drives the awesome car?”
“Yes.”
“If he's your brother why'd he not give you the room number?”
“It's his birthday. I'm surprising him. We had a falling out -”
The guy sighed. “One on the end. Number twenty.”
Sam paused outside it. There was silence inside. Dean's broadcast must be over for the night. He knocked, the code knock they used to use when they were kids. There was a beat or two when Sam heard only the loud knocking of his heart, then the rustling of bed covers, and the slide of a chain.
“Hello?” Dean peered out the door, slid it open wider when he saw Sam. “Sam?” Dean was wearing only boxers, hanging low on his hips. “Fuck. You found me.”
“Didn't you want me to? Wasn’t that the point of the radio show?” Sam peered behind Dean, and made out the shape of equipment, lying discarded by the window. An half empty bottle of Tequila sat by a microphone and showed itself in the glaze of Dean's eyes.
“Didn't think you'd want to see me.” Dean said. His hand was firmly holding the door half shut, his body stopping Sam from coming in.
Then Sam looked into his eyes, and read the only invitation he needed. He wondered how long it had been there, why he'd never seen it before. He had a million questions.
He ignored all of them, and leaned in and kissed Dean square on the mouth. Dean’s resistance lasted only a surprised second.
Sam kicked the door shut as they carried on in a path toward the bed. His hands roved over Dean's bare back, taking in every line, every contour. He had to let go to let Dean slide off his coat, pull off his t-shirt. Sam kicked off the shoes he'd hastily pulled onto bare feet not two hours before. They paused in front of the bed.
Dean pulled away from Sam's mouth, took away the delicious taste of Tequila and salt and Dean that had been there.
“You don't-”
“Oh I do,” Dean said. He kissed Sam's bare shoulder, and Sam let him twist them around until Sam was being pushed back onto the bed. “Thought about it so much Sam. Wanted to-”
“Me too-whatever you want- anything you want-”
Dean's tongue made circles on Sam's chest. He slid his hands into the top of Sam's jeans. Sam bucked up, trying to press his body against Dean's, wanting contact, more contact.
Dean chuckled, warm breath making Sam's stomach tingle. “I’m not patient either.” He unsnapped Sam's jeans.
“Thought about this-so long-”
“Me too - Gonna suck you off now, Sammy, gonna make it worth the-” Dean swallowed his words as he unzipped Sam's jeans and slid the boxers down. Sam heard Dean's intake of breath. His cock was hardening already, and Dean leaned over, leaving Sam's jeans and boxers around his ankles as he took him in his mouth.
Sam thought maybe it was heaven right there, looking down seeing Dean working his cock, feeling those lips around him, the warmth of Dean encircling him. Building in Sam's groin and up through his body until-
He thought he'd never come like it again, but when Dean was done, licking his lips and running a thumb over his bottom lip, he looked up and met Dean's eyes.
“Night’s not over yet Sam. Wanna be inside you. So hard. Can I do that? Will you-”
“Yes. Yes.” Sam banged his head back against the pillow. The questions - they could worry about those in the morning.
Dean pulled Sam's jeans off his feet and rustled in a bag. He nestled between Sam's legs again, pulling Sam's knees up. “It'll hurt but-”
“I don't care-” Sam met Dean's gaze. “Do it.”
Dean took his time lubing his hand, sliding one finger into Sam, past the point of the burn, past the point when Sam nearly begged him to stop, nearly couldn't take it. Then Dean hit a point that was ohsogood, that made Sam think he'd never truly been fucked before, had never known what sex was, until Dean was jacking him open with two fingers, then three, then was sliding into him, slowly. The pain was almost too great, and then Dean was inside him, balls slapping against Sam’s ass. Sam reached down and jacked himself off, matching Dean's steady rhythm.
Two bodies in unison.
**
Sam woke to find his nose pressed into Dean's shoulder. He shifted, and met Dean's dark gaze.
“Morning.” Dean was hesitant.
“I'd have thought you were good with morning afters.” Sam slid up until his face was on the pillow next to Dean's.”
“They aren't usually with my brother.”
“Dean-”
“I'm sorry, Sam, I-”
Sam sat up. “Sorry you did it, or sorry 'cause you gotta be fucking responsible for everything?”
Dean swung his legs over the other side of the bed, his back to Sam. “Sorry 'cause I tried so hard not to do this.”
“But you wanted it.”
Dean hesitated, then gave a nod. “Yes.” Dean turned.
“Why the radio show? Why not just call me?”
Dean picked at the sheet, balling it into his hand. “I saw the equipment in a store. Figured there was things I wanted to say, not just to you, just...” Dean gave a short laugh. “Dad doesn't listen like you used to.” Dean shrugged. “I don't like you being gone.” He said it matter-of-factly, the same way he said, turn left or that's my pie.
“I don't like being away from you either. I want this.” Sam took Dean's hand, rested it high on his own thigh. “I want this more than anything.”
“More than college? More than normality?” Dean said the word as if it was a foreign language.
“You want it more than hunting? More than Dad?”
Dean slid his hand away. “That's why this shouldn't have happened. We've screwed it up and made it worse.”
“Maybe... maybe someday we'll make it work. After college. Maybe Dad will kill what killed Mom and-”
“And it'll be over and we'll settle down in a house with a white picket fence and have a happily ever after?” Dean stood up and strode away from Sam, pulling his clothes on in a hurry. “I shouldn't have done the broadcast.”
“I liked them. I thought... I felt close to you. Even when it wasn't you. When I didn't think it was you.” Sam slid out of bed, and stood naked in front of Dean.
Dean twisted to face Sam, now fully dressed.
“Sam. I can't stop you living your life.” Sam felt Dean's eyes watching him closely. “I want that for you. I'd sacrifice this for that.”
“I don't know if I can.”
Dean smiled. “It's what we're going to do. Okay?”
Sam nodded, tears springing in his eyes. “Okay.” He grabbed his clothes, and pulled them on quickly. “Okay.” He brushed Dean's lips softly with his own, and left.
**
The new year began and the radio stayed quiet, a faint hum of static in the background, a steady reminder of Dean. Then one evening, when Sam was trying to decide whether to read one more chapter or go to sleep, it crackled into life.
“I'm sure you've all missed me. Who wouldn't? I'm very loveable. This one's for...this one's for you, S. I'm always here, 'kay?”
An unknown song started up, and Sam smiled. He had Dean as company, even if he was just hanging out with his voice. He'd figure out the balance, someday. In the meantime, he pumped up the volume, lay back, and listened.
**
I hope you enjoyed.