ICARUS 'VERSE: If
Title: If
By: revenant_scribe
Genre: semi-AU | Wincest | One-Shot
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,468
A/N: Part of the Icarus 'Verse. This fic was strongly inspired by Joshua Radin’s song, 'What If You'.
Warnings: Wincest, angst, nekkid boys.
Written for HC_Bingo prompt: moving
Summary: When the summer started, Sam had told himself that he was going to go for it; that he was going to tell Dean how he felt and he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. That was theoretical, though, and he didn't count on the effect it would have on the rest of his plans.
“If you could be anywhere right now,” Sam said, grinning a little at his brother’s raised eyebrow. “Seriously,” he said. “Where would you be?”
He watched as Dean fished a forkful of noodles out of the bottom of the cardboard take-out box and dropped them casually into his mouth, chewing as he thought. “Anywhere?”
“Anywhere at all.”
“Somewhere my idiot brother couldn’t follow me so I can finally have some peace and quiet.” Sam laughed and shoved Dean with his bare foot. “Seriously, Sammy, why’d we have to go anywhere at all?” He said it casually, didn’t even look up as he tossed one empty container aside and went fishing for the box of wontons. Sam ducked his head and snuck a glimpse of his brother’s profile from the corner of his eye. Dean was beautiful, stretched out across their shared bed wearing a thin white T-shirt and faded blue jeans, his feet bare, and his hair tousled. He was beautiful and he was Sam’s.
“You’re going to come by, aren’t you?” Sam asked, pressed his toes into Dean’s thigh when his brother refused to answer. “Hey. You are, aren’t you?”
“You’re starting something new. College is going to be a whole different world and, believe me, you’re not going to want your big brother dropping-by while you’re trying to get your party on.”
“Shut up,” Sam scoffed. “Yes I will. I will want my big brother there.” Dean quirked his eyebrow again, his expression doubtful as he shoved the empty cartons into the plastic bag and got up from the bed. Sam took a deep breath. “I’ll want my lover dropping by.”
The plastic bag thunked as Dean dropped it into the trash. “Your lover,” Dean echoed, a strange quality in his tone that made Sam wish he could see his brother’s face.
“Well,” he said, letting out a slow breath. “Yeah. What else would you call it?”
Dean paused, just long enough for Sam to wonder if he’d made a mistake, if the whole thing was a huge mistake. He toyed with the idea of never leaving their crappy motel room in Sparks, Nevada. Thought about staying with Dean and not bothering with college. “Nothing,” Dean said, he had a cocky, teasing grin on his face when he turned back around, caught the look on Sam’s face and flashed a grin. “Sammy, are you entertaining inappropriate thoughts about me?”
“Always,” Sam said, wishing he could stop blushing when he was around his brother. His eyes dropped lower on Dean’s body as his brother toyed with the hem of his T-shirt, offering just a peak of hip as a tease. Sam sat up on the bed as Dean stopped playing and stripped the shirt off, tossing it aside.
“God, Dean.” Dean smirked, a dark twist in his lips as he deliberately worked his belt buckle open. “Come here,” Sam said, his voice deep and rough in that way that still embarrassed him. He wasn’t used to the feeling of want that overpowered him when he was with Dean.
Dean came to a stop at the foot of the bed and stopped moving, his belt hanging loose and the top button of his jeans opened. “I’m here,” he said. “What now?”
“Seriously?” Sam licked his lips. “I want you.” Dean kept standing, not making a move to take off any more of his clothes, not touching himself, just waiting.
When the summer started, Sam had told himself that he was going to go for it; that he was going to tell Dean how he felt and he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. That was theoretical, though. Something he told himself because he had finally put high school behind him, finally broken free of their dad and was heading straight toward independence. He felt invincible and he convinced himself that he had nothing to lose. Sam couldn’t envision a world where his brother would ever turn him away. Even if Dean rejected him, Sam figured that he’d go to Stanford and by the time next summer rolled around his brother would let things slide back into some semblance of ‘normal’.
What he didn’t imagine was what he got. After the wheedling and the manipulating and the negotiating, Sam hadn’t imagined what it would be like afterwards, if Dean said ‘yes’.
Sam fisted the top of his brother’s opened jeans and yanked, grinning to himself as Dean’s body jerked and then toppled forward. “Jesus, Sammy. Watch it.” Dean’s palms were planted on either side of Sam’s head, bracing him just above Sam’s body. Sam wrapped his hand around the back of his brother’s beck and tugged down until their lips were pressed together.
Dean tasted like the Chinese food they’d just eaten, salty and savory and opening up under Sam’s hands. It made him want more and he felt drugged, like he had to soak in as much of Dean as he could, imprint every taste, every texture so he could survive the coming absence. Sam didn’t want to go.
He worked his brother’s blue jeans down and then scrabbled at his own pants. “Here,” Dean said, pulling back and resting on his knees as his hands worked Sam’s jeans off. “You’re such an idiot, sometimes. How are you going to survive in Palo Alto if you can’t even undress yourself?”
Sam didn’t answer; he didn’t think one was necessary. Instead, he stared up at his brother’s face, watched as green eyes turned almost black with lust. When Dean started to shift down the bed, Sam stopped him. “No, I want…” he trailed off, had to take a steadying breath to be able to meet Dean’s questioning gaze. “Can I?” he said. “To you?”
“Oh,” Dean said. He sat back a little and Sam watched as green eyes darted around the room, before re-focusing on Sam’s face. Dean shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
It wasn’t romantic; it wasn’t even as enthusiastic as Sam might have hoped for, but it wasn’t ‘no’, and he clung to that as he glanced around, and then nodded toward the nightstand. “We should probably move up a bit.”
Dean shifted up the bed, sliding his boxer-briefs down his hips and casting them off the side of the bed before turning around onto his stomach and resting his cheek against the pillow. He parted his legs.
They’d had sex before, and Sam liked to think they’d been pretty adventurous. There was something about Dean’s back, though; about the way his brother’s face was tucked away out of sight, that just didn’t sit right.
He fumbled in the nightstand and pulled out a condom and the lubricant, focusing on taking steady breaths as he rolled the condom down over his cock and then flipped the lid on the lube. He slicked his fingers but stopped. “Hey, Dean?”
“What?” The pillow muffled Dean’s voice, and Sam sat back a little, patted at his brother’s back to get his attention. “What?” Dean asked again, leaning up enough that Sam could see his face.
“I want to see you.” Dean’s eyes dropped to the edge of the mattress and Sam wondered if he was running through different positions in his head, trying to find the best one for the occasion. “I just … I want it…” but he stopped himself before he could say that he wanted it to ‘be special’, because that would be something that Dean Winchester just would never abide coming from Sam’s mouth. Way too cheesy.
Dean twisted around and flopped down again, this time on his back. He shifted his legs apart and pressed his feet into the mattress. Sam felt infinitely better and grabbed an extra pillow from the other side of the bed and pushed it under his brother’s bent legs. “What are you doing?” Dean wondered.
“Put this underneath you,” Sam said. “Like you did for me, remember?” Dean arched his hips up and waited patiently as Sam scooted the pillow under his hips. “How’s that?”
“’Ts’fine,” Dean mumbled.
Sam leaned forward so he could press his mouth to his brother’s. “I want it to be better than fine.” He pushed his finger carefully against Dean’s entrance, and then pressed inside.
It was strange. Dean gasped and Sam panicked a little, worried that he was doing it wrong, or causing pain when all he wanted to give was pleasure. “Keep going,” Dean said, and Sam went on, went slow and maybe made a mess with the lubricant but he figured it was probably better to have too much than too little.
Somewhere along the way it occurred to him that his fingers were working Dean open, that Dean’s gasps and moans were Sam’s doing, and he dropped his mouth down against his brother’s body, licked up Dean’s chest and sucked a line under his chin, and then drank his sounds down. “Come on,” Dean said, and Sam pulled his fingers free and gripped his brother’s hip as he slid inside his body.
“God, Dean. Jesus.” Sam tensed, wondered if Dean would tease him, but Dean’s eyes had fallen closed. “Is it okay?”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, Sammy.”
Sam dragged his hips back and then pressed in, slow and deep. He did it again with a bit more force and felt a zing of heat inside him as Dean gasped and arched up underneath him. “Promise that you’re going to come and visit,” he said, pushed in again. “Promise.”
“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean said. “Promise.” Sam pressed a kiss to his brother’s neck and squeezed his eyes closed, inhaled the smell of sweat and heat and musk that was uniquely Dean and tried to push thoughts of Stanford and college away. Nothing existed outside of their tiny room, nothing mattered except their bodies moving together, moving against each other.
“Dean, Dean.” He whispered it like a prayer, like a wish, and Dean answered him, held him close and pressed heated kisses against his skin, and Sam tried to pretend he wasn’t falling apart, that the sun was never going to rise, that the night would simply go on forever.
……………………………….
Sam couldn’t sleep. Behind him, half-curled with one arm tucked beneath his pillow, Dean slumbered peacefully, but Sam was wide-awake. He pulled aside the blackout curtains, peaked out at the sliver of moon from behind the pale white sheers and turned to look at his brother in the scant light.
He’d been planning since he was a kid; since he was a scrawny thirteen year old and already tired of the life he was living. College was supposed to be his ticket to a better world; it was supposed to give him everything he’d ever wanted on a silver platter: a good job, friends and maybe something more. In one moment, with one single decision, his world was supposed to make sense. Life wasn’t racing across states, running from one hunt to the next, stuck in some bizarre reality that the rest of the world would deny up-and-down and always refuse to believe in.
Sam settled down beside the bed, reached out carefully to brush a strand of hair out of his brother’s face. He hadn’t counted on Dean. He wanted it all, but that wasn’t how the world worked. Dean wouldn’t ever throw hunting away to follow Sam to school, and in the end, Sam had just taken what he’d wanted and kept asking for more, and it only made sense that he would never be able to keep it all. The choice was Dean, or school.
He knew Dean would be true to his word, that he would stop by Stanford just like Sam had made him promise, but it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be like what they’d shared that summer. Whatever he’d been building with his brother would have to wait until after he was finished with school, until he could figure out what he wanted beyond a vague sense that he just wanted something different.
They’d both known, right from the start, that there was an expiration date on the fantasy they were living. Dean’s efforts to keep things casual, to stop Sam whenever he tried to talk about ‘love’ and ‘commitment’ made sense. He’d been trying to prepare Sam for the moment when it finally occurred to him that he was stepping into a future of uncertainty, where for once, he could do whatever he wanted and make whatever choices he wanted. He could be an artist or a businessman or study nothing but philosophy. Most kids had to go back to their parents and explain their choices, but finally and for once, Sam was completely free.
The future was nothing but possibility, and it was about time that Sam started making his own choices. It occurred to him that he hadn’t ever been on his own. He’d traveled by bus once or twice, and been left in a motel on his own for a week or so. It didn’t matter, it didn’t count when the bus ride was leaving his dad and heading toward Dean, or when John would let him stay in the motel to do homework and keep-up with school while he left for a hunt. For once, there wasn’t going to be a familiar face at the end of the journey. He had no idea what he was going to do when he got to Palo Alto. Everything would be new and different.
Gently, Sam ran his finger down the bridge of his brother’s freckled nose, smiled at the predictable scrunchy-face Dean made and the quiet snuffle as he re-adjusted his head on the pillow. What he felt for his brother was real, and it was strong, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up against Dean’s side and never leave. If he didn’t go, if he never took the chance, he would never know if he could have done it. He would never know if he could stand on his own, if he was strong enough. Maybe one day, down the line, he would look back and regret the choice, but Sam needed to know that he was capable of it. That he was different from his dad. Maybe some day, Dean could see that there was a different life out there for him, too, but that day would never come if Sam didn’t find that life first.
The sun was creeping up slowly, breaking through the heavy night clouds and Sam zipped his duffel closed and turned to face the bed, looked at his brother, fast asleep and curled around the pillow Sam’s cheek had left an indentation on. Then, not letting himself linger, Sam walked through the door and let it fall gently closed.
Alone in the room, Dean blinked open his eyes and watched the sun rise.
---------------------
End.
Icarus 'Verse
By: revenant_scribe
Genre: semi-AU | Wincest | One-Shot
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: R
Word Count: 2,468
A/N: Part of the Icarus 'Verse. This fic was strongly inspired by Joshua Radin’s song, 'What If You'.
Warnings: Wincest, angst, nekkid boys.
Written for HC_Bingo prompt: moving
Summary: When the summer started, Sam had told himself that he was going to go for it; that he was going to tell Dean how he felt and he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. That was theoretical, though, and he didn't count on the effect it would have on the rest of his plans.
“If you could be anywhere right now,” Sam said, grinning a little at his brother’s raised eyebrow. “Seriously,” he said. “Where would you be?”
He watched as Dean fished a forkful of noodles out of the bottom of the cardboard take-out box and dropped them casually into his mouth, chewing as he thought. “Anywhere?”
“Anywhere at all.”
“Somewhere my idiot brother couldn’t follow me so I can finally have some peace and quiet.” Sam laughed and shoved Dean with his bare foot. “Seriously, Sammy, why’d we have to go anywhere at all?” He said it casually, didn’t even look up as he tossed one empty container aside and went fishing for the box of wontons. Sam ducked his head and snuck a glimpse of his brother’s profile from the corner of his eye. Dean was beautiful, stretched out across their shared bed wearing a thin white T-shirt and faded blue jeans, his feet bare, and his hair tousled. He was beautiful and he was Sam’s.
“You’re going to come by, aren’t you?” Sam asked, pressed his toes into Dean’s thigh when his brother refused to answer. “Hey. You are, aren’t you?”
“You’re starting something new. College is going to be a whole different world and, believe me, you’re not going to want your big brother dropping-by while you’re trying to get your party on.”
“Shut up,” Sam scoffed. “Yes I will. I will want my big brother there.” Dean quirked his eyebrow again, his expression doubtful as he shoved the empty cartons into the plastic bag and got up from the bed. Sam took a deep breath. “I’ll want my lover dropping by.”
The plastic bag thunked as Dean dropped it into the trash. “Your lover,” Dean echoed, a strange quality in his tone that made Sam wish he could see his brother’s face.
“Well,” he said, letting out a slow breath. “Yeah. What else would you call it?”
Dean paused, just long enough for Sam to wonder if he’d made a mistake, if the whole thing was a huge mistake. He toyed with the idea of never leaving their crappy motel room in Sparks, Nevada. Thought about staying with Dean and not bothering with college. “Nothing,” Dean said, he had a cocky, teasing grin on his face when he turned back around, caught the look on Sam’s face and flashed a grin. “Sammy, are you entertaining inappropriate thoughts about me?”
“Always,” Sam said, wishing he could stop blushing when he was around his brother. His eyes dropped lower on Dean’s body as his brother toyed with the hem of his T-shirt, offering just a peak of hip as a tease. Sam sat up on the bed as Dean stopped playing and stripped the shirt off, tossing it aside.
“God, Dean.” Dean smirked, a dark twist in his lips as he deliberately worked his belt buckle open. “Come here,” Sam said, his voice deep and rough in that way that still embarrassed him. He wasn’t used to the feeling of want that overpowered him when he was with Dean.
Dean came to a stop at the foot of the bed and stopped moving, his belt hanging loose and the top button of his jeans opened. “I’m here,” he said. “What now?”
“Seriously?” Sam licked his lips. “I want you.” Dean kept standing, not making a move to take off any more of his clothes, not touching himself, just waiting.
When the summer started, Sam had told himself that he was going to go for it; that he was going to tell Dean how he felt and he wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. That was theoretical, though. Something he told himself because he had finally put high school behind him, finally broken free of their dad and was heading straight toward independence. He felt invincible and he convinced himself that he had nothing to lose. Sam couldn’t envision a world where his brother would ever turn him away. Even if Dean rejected him, Sam figured that he’d go to Stanford and by the time next summer rolled around his brother would let things slide back into some semblance of ‘normal’.
What he didn’t imagine was what he got. After the wheedling and the manipulating and the negotiating, Sam hadn’t imagined what it would be like afterwards, if Dean said ‘yes’.
Sam fisted the top of his brother’s opened jeans and yanked, grinning to himself as Dean’s body jerked and then toppled forward. “Jesus, Sammy. Watch it.” Dean’s palms were planted on either side of Sam’s head, bracing him just above Sam’s body. Sam wrapped his hand around the back of his brother’s beck and tugged down until their lips were pressed together.
Dean tasted like the Chinese food they’d just eaten, salty and savory and opening up under Sam’s hands. It made him want more and he felt drugged, like he had to soak in as much of Dean as he could, imprint every taste, every texture so he could survive the coming absence. Sam didn’t want to go.
He worked his brother’s blue jeans down and then scrabbled at his own pants. “Here,” Dean said, pulling back and resting on his knees as his hands worked Sam’s jeans off. “You’re such an idiot, sometimes. How are you going to survive in Palo Alto if you can’t even undress yourself?”
Sam didn’t answer; he didn’t think one was necessary. Instead, he stared up at his brother’s face, watched as green eyes turned almost black with lust. When Dean started to shift down the bed, Sam stopped him. “No, I want…” he trailed off, had to take a steadying breath to be able to meet Dean’s questioning gaze. “Can I?” he said. “To you?”
“Oh,” Dean said. He sat back a little and Sam watched as green eyes darted around the room, before re-focusing on Sam’s face. Dean shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
It wasn’t romantic; it wasn’t even as enthusiastic as Sam might have hoped for, but it wasn’t ‘no’, and he clung to that as he glanced around, and then nodded toward the nightstand. “We should probably move up a bit.”
Dean shifted up the bed, sliding his boxer-briefs down his hips and casting them off the side of the bed before turning around onto his stomach and resting his cheek against the pillow. He parted his legs.
They’d had sex before, and Sam liked to think they’d been pretty adventurous. There was something about Dean’s back, though; about the way his brother’s face was tucked away out of sight, that just didn’t sit right.
He fumbled in the nightstand and pulled out a condom and the lubricant, focusing on taking steady breaths as he rolled the condom down over his cock and then flipped the lid on the lube. He slicked his fingers but stopped. “Hey, Dean?”
“What?” The pillow muffled Dean’s voice, and Sam sat back a little, patted at his brother’s back to get his attention. “What?” Dean asked again, leaning up enough that Sam could see his face.
“I want to see you.” Dean’s eyes dropped to the edge of the mattress and Sam wondered if he was running through different positions in his head, trying to find the best one for the occasion. “I just … I want it…” but he stopped himself before he could say that he wanted it to ‘be special’, because that would be something that Dean Winchester just would never abide coming from Sam’s mouth. Way too cheesy.
Dean twisted around and flopped down again, this time on his back. He shifted his legs apart and pressed his feet into the mattress. Sam felt infinitely better and grabbed an extra pillow from the other side of the bed and pushed it under his brother’s bent legs. “What are you doing?” Dean wondered.
“Put this underneath you,” Sam said. “Like you did for me, remember?” Dean arched his hips up and waited patiently as Sam scooted the pillow under his hips. “How’s that?”
“’Ts’fine,” Dean mumbled.
Sam leaned forward so he could press his mouth to his brother’s. “I want it to be better than fine.” He pushed his finger carefully against Dean’s entrance, and then pressed inside.
It was strange. Dean gasped and Sam panicked a little, worried that he was doing it wrong, or causing pain when all he wanted to give was pleasure. “Keep going,” Dean said, and Sam went on, went slow and maybe made a mess with the lubricant but he figured it was probably better to have too much than too little.
Somewhere along the way it occurred to him that his fingers were working Dean open, that Dean’s gasps and moans were Sam’s doing, and he dropped his mouth down against his brother’s body, licked up Dean’s chest and sucked a line under his chin, and then drank his sounds down. “Come on,” Dean said, and Sam pulled his fingers free and gripped his brother’s hip as he slid inside his body.
“God, Dean. Jesus.” Sam tensed, wondered if Dean would tease him, but Dean’s eyes had fallen closed. “Is it okay?”
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Yeah, Sammy.”
Sam dragged his hips back and then pressed in, slow and deep. He did it again with a bit more force and felt a zing of heat inside him as Dean gasped and arched up underneath him. “Promise that you’re going to come and visit,” he said, pushed in again. “Promise.”
“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean said. “Promise.” Sam pressed a kiss to his brother’s neck and squeezed his eyes closed, inhaled the smell of sweat and heat and musk that was uniquely Dean and tried to push thoughts of Stanford and college away. Nothing existed outside of their tiny room, nothing mattered except their bodies moving together, moving against each other.
“Dean, Dean.” He whispered it like a prayer, like a wish, and Dean answered him, held him close and pressed heated kisses against his skin, and Sam tried to pretend he wasn’t falling apart, that the sun was never going to rise, that the night would simply go on forever.
……………………………….
Sam couldn’t sleep. Behind him, half-curled with one arm tucked beneath his pillow, Dean slumbered peacefully, but Sam was wide-awake. He pulled aside the blackout curtains, peaked out at the sliver of moon from behind the pale white sheers and turned to look at his brother in the scant light.
He’d been planning since he was a kid; since he was a scrawny thirteen year old and already tired of the life he was living. College was supposed to be his ticket to a better world; it was supposed to give him everything he’d ever wanted on a silver platter: a good job, friends and maybe something more. In one moment, with one single decision, his world was supposed to make sense. Life wasn’t racing across states, running from one hunt to the next, stuck in some bizarre reality that the rest of the world would deny up-and-down and always refuse to believe in.
Sam settled down beside the bed, reached out carefully to brush a strand of hair out of his brother’s face. He hadn’t counted on Dean. He wanted it all, but that wasn’t how the world worked. Dean wouldn’t ever throw hunting away to follow Sam to school, and in the end, Sam had just taken what he’d wanted and kept asking for more, and it only made sense that he would never be able to keep it all. The choice was Dean, or school.
He knew Dean would be true to his word, that he would stop by Stanford just like Sam had made him promise, but it wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t be like what they’d shared that summer. Whatever he’d been building with his brother would have to wait until after he was finished with school, until he could figure out what he wanted beyond a vague sense that he just wanted something different.
They’d both known, right from the start, that there was an expiration date on the fantasy they were living. Dean’s efforts to keep things casual, to stop Sam whenever he tried to talk about ‘love’ and ‘commitment’ made sense. He’d been trying to prepare Sam for the moment when it finally occurred to him that he was stepping into a future of uncertainty, where for once, he could do whatever he wanted and make whatever choices he wanted. He could be an artist or a businessman or study nothing but philosophy. Most kids had to go back to their parents and explain their choices, but finally and for once, Sam was completely free.
The future was nothing but possibility, and it was about time that Sam started making his own choices. It occurred to him that he hadn’t ever been on his own. He’d traveled by bus once or twice, and been left in a motel on his own for a week or so. It didn’t matter, it didn’t count when the bus ride was leaving his dad and heading toward Dean, or when John would let him stay in the motel to do homework and keep-up with school while he left for a hunt. For once, there wasn’t going to be a familiar face at the end of the journey. He had no idea what he was going to do when he got to Palo Alto. Everything would be new and different.
Gently, Sam ran his finger down the bridge of his brother’s freckled nose, smiled at the predictable scrunchy-face Dean made and the quiet snuffle as he re-adjusted his head on the pillow. What he felt for his brother was real, and it was strong, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up against Dean’s side and never leave. If he didn’t go, if he never took the chance, he would never know if he could have done it. He would never know if he could stand on his own, if he was strong enough. Maybe one day, down the line, he would look back and regret the choice, but Sam needed to know that he was capable of it. That he was different from his dad. Maybe some day, Dean could see that there was a different life out there for him, too, but that day would never come if Sam didn’t find that life first.
The sun was creeping up slowly, breaking through the heavy night clouds and Sam zipped his duffel closed and turned to face the bed, looked at his brother, fast asleep and curled around the pillow Sam’s cheek had left an indentation on. Then, not letting himself linger, Sam walked through the door and let it fall gently closed.
Alone in the room, Dean blinked open his eyes and watched the sun rise.
---------------------
End.
Icarus 'Verse