SPN Fic: A Winchester Secret (Sam/Dean, PG-13)
Title: A Winchester Secret
Author: sugareey
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 3,963
Summary: Sam has always been a cuddler but little does he know that Dean likes it too.
Warnings: Goes through S1 and S2. Kissing is in here!
Disclaimer: I point my fingers to Kripke and his crew, because he is a genius. However, they own Supernatural. And sorry, but I don't own the boys either. They rule on their own.
A/N: I never gotten around to posting this on my own journal (who knows why?), so here it is. About one year and a half ago, but oh well. For the prompt, Dean likes to cuddle but he wants to blame it on Sam for 2007's schmoopfest. Didn't exactly turn out the way I wanted, but I think it shall suffice.
Cuddling meant weakness, or else it was something not worth mentioning. Sam thought that was rather stupid, but Dean and Dad learned to accept it. Perhaps Dad used to cuddle with Mom when she was alive, and Sam was definitely sure Dean used to cuddle with him when they were younger. Being the youngest son, it was natural for Sam to be protected and comforted every time the monsters and demons came alive at night. He had his share of fighting back, of course, but Dad and Dean were always there by his side too. They used to be there to watch out for him after each and every treacherous hunt they went on. It would always be late at night when they all would retire to the motel they were staying at, with Dad telling Sam how proud he was. Those words always calmed his nerves a little, but it wouldn’t be until bedtime when Sam could fully relax.
If he had to admit it, he used to look forward to going to bed when he was little. There were always two beds in the room, one for Dad and one for Sam and Dean. Dad always tucked them in, always saying how much he loved them both, and that a long day awaited them the next morning. Dean would smirk before pulling the musky sheets up to his chin. Sam was the one who always found something to say.
“You always say it’s going to be a long day,” he usually protested, giving Dad a frown. Sam hated getting up early, and really, all those long days were meant for sulking in the room all day, waiting for Dad to find a lead.
“And it always is, right?” Dad would reply, grinning back.
Sam would pout before sighing, turning onto his side before saying goodnight. And then he would hear the blankets ruffling from the next bed over before it was silent. He had learned to appreciate this type of silence because it was peaceful and it almost made him happy. Sam had Dad and he had Dean. Dean, who always waited a few minutes after Dad fell asleep before moving closer to Sam. Sam usually turned his back to Dean, listening to Dad’s deep breathing and just waiting for something to happen. Then Dean would finally rest a hand lazily on his hip, his body spooning against Sam’s. Sam always felt Dean’s warm breath close to his neck, and that made it a lot easier to fall asleep. It was always with a small smile that Sam would drift off, his legs tangling with Dean’s. As long as things were like this, Sam knew he was safe.
~~~~~
Stanford changed everything. It was a dream school for brilliant students like Sam, and he was happy to be part of that community. He had an apartment to live in, a devoted girlfriend who loved him, and a spectacular career lying ahead. He was going to be a lawyer. He was going to be successful and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Or so he thought.
Living a normal life was what it was, normal. Going through the same daily routine wasn’t difficult, though it wasn’t exactly exciting either. Sure, Sam learned about habeas corpus, or that Jess’ favorite color was actually red rather than pink, but those were just tiny things. Maybe they would make a difference or maybe they wouldn’t. Either way, Sam was happy and he was actually doing something for himself for once. He had finally found a life that suited him. And then there was hunting…but that was something else. It almost felt like a light year since Sam left all that behind. And he was glad he did. That was, until Dean went looking for him.
The night everything burned to hell was a sign that normal was out of the question. That meant leaving Stanford and the beginning of restless nights, where shadows would be watching over him. They were always watching over him, but Sam had always ignored them. With Jess, he never felt scared. Even though he had been protecting her, with his arms wrapped loosely around her waist every night, he was sure things would be okay. They were supposed to be safe with each other. But truthfully, he knew he was lying to himself, what with his reoccurring nightmares haunting him.
Even though his perfect life had shattered, it didn’t really matter. When Dean came back for Sam, he saved his life. Dean was there and he tried his best to help and talk to Sam, even when he could hardly process what was going on. Dean sat Sam in the Impala, stroking his hair a few times before taking his own seat so they could drive off into the night. And into the night they went because the next thing Sam knew, he was lying down on a lumpy bed in his boxers, with the almost familiar scent of musky sheets filling his nostrils. It almost made things all right again.
Sam had snapped his eyes open instantly, taking in the closed blinds and what he could make out the small room. He hugged his pillow tighter to his face and tried to turn onto his back until he felt arms around him. Those arms pulled him closer to a body, a body a lot harder, flatter and leaner than Jess’. Sam tensed as he reached for the blankets, trying to push them away.
“Sammy?”
And that was all he needed to know. This was Dean beside him; Dean who had pulled Sam from a fire for the second time, who had always took care of him. Dean wasn’t Jess, because she was gone, but at least Dean knew what Sam needed. He wanted to be held by someone, and Dean had obliged to do just that. It was like old times.
Fear quickly vanished as Sam leaned toward Dean, only to hear a small sigh in return. They still smelled like smoke, despite taking showers with the cheap motel soap. The scent was still nice though, because Sam was certain if he could inhale deep enough, he would sense another scent that was just Dean. Personally, he loved the way Dean smelled, but Sam wasn’t going to tell him that. He let Dean’s hand rest on his bare stomach, and it was with some effort that Sam tried to suppress the smile on his face. His hand covered Dean’s as he let their fingers intertwine. This was something Sam knew. This was something he could never forget. Even if it was just for a night.
~~~~~
All the nights after that were either spent in the Impala, with Dean driving while Sam slept with his mouth hanging open, or else in various motel rooms. Dean always made sure there were two queen-sized beds; in fact he demanded upon it despite each owner’s assumptions. This never was an issue before, with people thinking that he and Dean were a pair, or more so, a couple. They were brothers, as Dean made sure to point out immediately before the questions arose, but even that shouldn’t have pissed Dean off so easily. After talking about it with Dean a few times (which resulted in nights where Dean stalked off to the local bar alone), Sam finally gave up and let Dean do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t like he was the one winning all the cash from poker, and he certainly wasn’t carrying any of the fake credit cards with him, but he knew how stubborn Dean could get, and surprisingly, he hadn’t changed at all since Sam left.
Sam personally didn’t care about the room arrangements, because what did it matter? Dean could always crawl into Sam’s bed if he wanted to, but that never happened, no matter how long Sam waited. He had liked it when Dean stayed in his bed that night of grieving because that was the only way he slept. Now, it seemed like Sam never slept at all. Without a body next him, even the slim and tiny body of Jess snuggled next to him, sleep was quite unnerving. His nightmares were getting more frequent, and going to Dean’s bed was not an option.
Dean had stopped being so “touchy-feely” after he began dating various girls throughout high school. Sam had stopped approaching Dean’s bed, and though Sam had his few share of girls, he found it was best sleeping with Dean. Dean had never put any pressure on him and he was always there when Sam needed him. Even though they didn’t sleep in the same bed anymore, Dean had still found ways to show his affection, whether it was with a playful punch, or the ruffling of Sam’s hair.
Now, there was none of that. Dean wouldn’t even touch him. Sam could feel the tension in the air, and he so desperately wanted to break it. They still had their jokes, but Sam just wasn’t into them. He felt helpless and guilty, with Dean always pushing himself to protect him. It had always been like that, from the Wendigo and the Shtriga, all the way up to River Grove, where that weird demon virus practically wiped out the whole population. Dean kept insisting it was nothing, as if protecting Sam was what he was supposed to do. But this whole act was taking its toll, and Sam wasn’t that stupid to see how it was draining all the energy out of his brother each time they went on a hunt. It was getting worse, with the dark circles under Dean’s eyes, and the constant verge for coffee runs in the morning and the late bar stays at night. Alcohol and girls had always been Dean’s remedy for anything, but it wasn’t going to last for long if he kept running away from his problems, and from Sam. So, Sam thought about changing tactics: to reach out to Dean.
Of course, Dean wasn’t much of a fan at first. He would brush Sam off, or call him a pansy. Sam knew Dean meant well, but he wanted to help him. He was sure Dean needed more help than ever when they had to make a run from the FBI after dealing with that shapeshifter in the bank. With the FBI on their tracks, they were screwed; at least those were Dean’s words. Sam remembered sitting next to Dean that night, even though it was clear Dean wanted to be alone, based on his stiff posture and his crossed legs on the bed. He was staring at the television screen as if he was mesmerized, and that had been Sam’s first clue that something was wrong. Dean was always laidback, and to see his brother sitting like this worried him. Sam had walked over to the bed, sitting down next to his brother before speaking.
“Dean?”
“Watching T.V.,” was Dean’s monotone response, his eyes still glued to the screen. The news was on, and when the hell did Dean watch the news?
“It’ll be fine,” Sam had said, though he knew that a blatant lie. Dean knew that too because that was when he shoved Sam away.
“Go take a shower, Sammy. You smell like a dead rat, and the stench is starting to get to me.”
But Sam could see right through this, and he knew Dean was trying to push him away, trying to bottle up his feelings, just because he could. “Not until we talk, Dean.”
Dean looked at Sam incredulously before shoving him again, this time a little bit harder. “Dude, we’re on the damn news! We’re making big headlines, for Christ’s sake! The FBI’s onto us! What the hell is there to talk about?”
“Dean…”
“Go take a shower.”
“No.”
“Sam, I’m not up for playing your fucking games!” retorted Dean, glaring at Sam with contempt. “Seriously, get your ass in the bathroom before I…”
But then Dean closed his eyes and let out a deep groan instead, his tense shoulders finally loosening up. Sam could feel the stiffness leave from under his fingertips as soon as he squeezed his brother’s shoulders. He simply grinned as he knelt on the bed behind his brother to continue his ministrations. He worked out all the knots within those muscles, and perhaps this was what Dean needed. Sam squeezed some more before using his thumbs to firmly rub small circles into Dean’s hard flesh, which eventually made their way toward his back. He was actually surprised Dean hadn’t recoiled from him; instead, he was leaning forward, allowing Sam to do whatever he pleased. Sam could only grin wider.
He was pretty sure those random one-night stands never thought about doing this for Dean, and for Sam to be the one giving Dean this pleasure, one of relaxation, made the weight in Sam’s heart a little bit lighter. At least he was trying to help, even though a simple massage was all he could really do. There was silence now, a different one from all those previous years, one of a mutual understanding between the two of them that they would figure things out somehow.
It was after ten minutes later that Sam had found himself with a very sleepy Dean. Dean was leaning forward so much that he was about to fall right onto the floor. Sam quickly scooped Dean by the armpits, laying him back in the bed before pulling the sheets back to tuck him in. It was nice to be doing this for once, Sam had mused before going to the bathroom to take a very long shower. Brothers took care of each other, and it was with pride that Sam snuck into bed next to Dean, resting his hand on his hip before drifting off to sleep. Dean didn’t stir at all.
~~~~~
Sam took to sleeping in Dean’s bed from then on, even though Dean didn’t really like it. But Sam always saw a glint of something, perhaps relief or admiration, in Dean’s eyes whenever he tried to resist Sam from snuggling up to him like a teddy bear. Sam just smirked before getting under the sheets and pressing his chest against Dean’s back. He had forgotten how they used to do this so often years ago, but now their positions were reversed, with Sam spooning against Dean, with Dean’s hand on top of Sam’s. Sam swore he could hear Dean’s low mutterings of “Such a girl,” or “I should get you a stuffed animal,” and that only made him happier as he wrapped his arms tighter around Dean. If Dean didn’t like this, surely he would have jerked away by now every time this happened. But Dean never seemed to move, and now he made the habit of pressing a light kiss on Sam’s cheek, whispering a faint good night as he turned out the lights.
It was only through really rough hunts that Dean would give in all together, offering himself completely to Sam. Of course, Sam wasn’t going to do anything against Dean’s will, and the rare times he did see his brother in a distraught state was when he made the effort to hug him tighter when they slept together. Sometimes he found himself rubbing small circles against Dean’s bare back again to get him to relax, and even a small trail of kisses along Dean’s neck was enough to make the best of another night of sleep. And even though Sam would find Dean up before him the next morning, as if nothing happened the previous night, he knew he was helping Dean somehow. The extra packet of Twinkies or breakfast sandwich said all. Cuddling at night seemed to work the best, because the rare few times Sam had propositioned to do so during times of endless research had made Dean laugh in his face.
“We’re not an old married couple, Sammy,” Dean told him once with a crooked smile, shaking his head with amusement. “Sometimes, you really do act like a chick.”
Sam had sighed morosely at that comment, the flush rising rapidly to his cheeks. Dean let out a hearty laugh before clapping him on the back.
“Don’t worry! I won’t spill out your secret. Now get back to work, geek boy. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”
Dean would always act like himself again most of the time, with sarcasm and humor Sam wanted to hate but secretly liked. Of course, there were times when Sam wanted to discuss things a little more, about how they were feeling and what to do next, but he knew Dean would have none of that. Sometimes words unsaid were better, because at least they knew they were there, floating right between them.
But nights like this, a night where an army of demons were on the loose, even with the Yellow-Eyed Demon gone, did require words. Sam knew that and so did Dean, but neither of them wanted to be the first to bring it up. Sam was still wincing when he went upstairs to his room at Bobby’s, and he could sense that Dean was right behind him. Bobby had done his best to tend the deep wound in Sam’s back, and it was only wise to stay here for a few days before figuring out what to do next before hunting down the demons. And it was going to take a hell lot more than two Winchester brothers to get the job done.
Sam plopped onto the small bed, resting his elbows on his knees as he covered his face with his hands. What had Dean done? He still couldn’t believe it Dean had sold his soul away, for him. For Sam to live. He had dealt with a lot of horrible things in the past, but this…no this he could not deal with. Not yet. So much had happened in a span for a few hours and now all the memories were racing through Sam’s mind. It happened so fast, and if the Yellow-Eyed Demon was really dead, then why wasn’t this war over yet? Why did they have to keep suffering? At least they finally got rid of the son of a bitch. Dad would have been proud of them both, of him and Dean. Perhaps it could have been much worse. Before Sam could think of anything else though, he felt the mattress sink beside him.
“It’s going to be okay. I’ll make it okay, Sammy,” said the voice close to Sam’s ear.
Sam merely looked up find Dean staring at him with an expression he had never seen before. Dean had always been careful to mask his emotions, but now they were shining out like a beacon of light. There had to be fear there, anguish, concern, and was there really…no. Sam was probably delirious if he thought he had seen love. He was just glad Dean was here and he should be grateful for even that. Sam could feel the tears welling in his eyes, and it was right when Dean slid his arm around him that he let them fall. Dean put a hand to Sam’s face, using a thumb to brush some of the tears away. Sam stopped crying immediately.
“D-Dean…”
“Sammy, no…don’t say anything,” started Dean, his eyes locking with Sam’s. “God, Sammy, you have no idea what it’s been like. And for you to be all right…to be here…”
“But-”
Dean pushed Sam gently onto his back. Sam winced for the second time tonight, and Dean fell back next to him before pulling Sam gently on top of him. Sam could feel Dean’s heart racing, feel the rise and fall of his chest, feel the familiar warm breath against his face. But he could also feel-
“Dean?” asked Sam with surprise, shifting slightly against his brother.
“Shit!” hissed Dean, arching off the bed to press into Sam. “I-I didn’t want it to be like this…I just…oh God!”
“Dean…you’re-”
“Don’t say it, Sammy,” said Dean through gritted teeth. He flung his arms tightly around Sam’s neck, pulling Sam even closer to him. “I know, I’m sorry…I just-”
“You’re sorry?”
“Sammy, shut up.”
Before he knew it, Sam found himself being kissed. It wasn’t gentle and slow, like with Jess. No, this kiss was just the opposite. It was clumsy, rough, and definitely wet. Sam could feel saliva dripping down his chin, but it didn’t matter because Dean was kissing him and he was actually liking it. He could feel Dean’s lips pressing harder against his own, and despite the blood and grime all over their faces, this was perfect. Sam dug his elbows into the mattress as he leaned forward to gain more access to Dean’s mouth. He let a low moan as teeth nibbled down on his bottom lip. He could taste blood, probably from the fights from earlier, but he could also taste Dean.
Nudging a knee between Dean’s thighs, he managed to get Dean to arch against him again. Dean opened his mouth wider, letting out a guttural groan. Sam didn’t waste the opportunity to plunge his tongue right in, exploring that mouth for the first time. It was a risky yet exhilarating experience. Sam didn’t care if this was his brother, that this was wrong, because it felt oh-so right to him. He didn’t care what other people thought. Right now, he was sharing a special moment with Dean. Or rather, quite a few special moments. Sam decided to leave his knee where it was, rubbing it against Dean’s crotch. Dean bit down on Sam’s lip again, and it was Sam’s turn to gasp. His hips bucked against Dean’s, and that was when Sam finally understood what this meant for the both of them.
“This?” Sam panted out after breaking away from Dean. “You like this?”
Dean nodded weakly as he tried to pull Sam into another kiss, but Sam pushed him away.
“Really?”
‘Yeah,” replied Dean roughly. “I want you.”
“Me?”
“You, Sammy. Only you.”
“What about girls? You know, one-night stands?”
“They’re not you,” choked out Dean before smashing his lips together with Sam’s once more.
Sam decided to enjoy it, letting his hands wander down to Dean’s arms, his chest, and damn, why did they have so much clothes on? Sam could feel himself getting more desperate, but he refused to indulge his temptation. He broke the kiss again, this time more reluctantly, and straddled Dean with his long legs instead. He watched Dean intently, waiting for him to open his eyes.
“Sam…”
“So if we do this, does that mean we get to cuddle more?” asked Sam innocently, raising his eyebrows.
Dean just stared at Sam before smacking him lightly on the arm. “Aren’t you just funny?”
Sam laughed before getting off of Dean. Not that he wanted to, but they could always do a lot more another time. Maybe at the next motel, Sam decided silently as he lay down next to Dean. “My offer still stands,” he persisted lazily as he gazed at the ceiling. “And it won’t ever expire…”
“Fine,” Dean grunted out, pulling Sam closer to him. “I’ll be nice and gentle this time…because, well…”
“Aww! You’re so sweet!” teased Sam in a sing-song voice.
“I hate you,” mumbled Dean, sliding up behind Sam.
“Yeah right.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
It would be sometime later that Bobby would find John Winchester’s boys sleeping in each other’s embraces. Little did they know that their secret was now out. It had never really been a secret in the first place though, and it was certainly not forbidden to share their love with one another. This was just fact.
Author: sugareey
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Sam/Dean
Word Count: 3,963
Summary: Sam has always been a cuddler but little does he know that Dean likes it too.
Warnings: Goes through S1 and S2. Kissing is in here!
Disclaimer: I point my fingers to Kripke and his crew, because he is a genius. However, they own Supernatural. And sorry, but I don't own the boys either. They rule on their own.
A/N: I never gotten around to posting this on my own journal (who knows why?), so here it is. About one year and a half ago, but oh well. For the prompt, Dean likes to cuddle but he wants to blame it on Sam for 2007's schmoopfest. Didn't exactly turn out the way I wanted, but I think it shall suffice.
Cuddling meant weakness, or else it was something not worth mentioning. Sam thought that was rather stupid, but Dean and Dad learned to accept it. Perhaps Dad used to cuddle with Mom when she was alive, and Sam was definitely sure Dean used to cuddle with him when they were younger. Being the youngest son, it was natural for Sam to be protected and comforted every time the monsters and demons came alive at night. He had his share of fighting back, of course, but Dad and Dean were always there by his side too. They used to be there to watch out for him after each and every treacherous hunt they went on. It would always be late at night when they all would retire to the motel they were staying at, with Dad telling Sam how proud he was. Those words always calmed his nerves a little, but it wouldn’t be until bedtime when Sam could fully relax.
If he had to admit it, he used to look forward to going to bed when he was little. There were always two beds in the room, one for Dad and one for Sam and Dean. Dad always tucked them in, always saying how much he loved them both, and that a long day awaited them the next morning. Dean would smirk before pulling the musky sheets up to his chin. Sam was the one who always found something to say.
“You always say it’s going to be a long day,” he usually protested, giving Dad a frown. Sam hated getting up early, and really, all those long days were meant for sulking in the room all day, waiting for Dad to find a lead.
“And it always is, right?” Dad would reply, grinning back.
Sam would pout before sighing, turning onto his side before saying goodnight. And then he would hear the blankets ruffling from the next bed over before it was silent. He had learned to appreciate this type of silence because it was peaceful and it almost made him happy. Sam had Dad and he had Dean. Dean, who always waited a few minutes after Dad fell asleep before moving closer to Sam. Sam usually turned his back to Dean, listening to Dad’s deep breathing and just waiting for something to happen. Then Dean would finally rest a hand lazily on his hip, his body spooning against Sam’s. Sam always felt Dean’s warm breath close to his neck, and that made it a lot easier to fall asleep. It was always with a small smile that Sam would drift off, his legs tangling with Dean’s. As long as things were like this, Sam knew he was safe.
~~~~~
Stanford changed everything. It was a dream school for brilliant students like Sam, and he was happy to be part of that community. He had an apartment to live in, a devoted girlfriend who loved him, and a spectacular career lying ahead. He was going to be a lawyer. He was going to be successful and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Or so he thought.
Living a normal life was what it was, normal. Going through the same daily routine wasn’t difficult, though it wasn’t exactly exciting either. Sure, Sam learned about habeas corpus, or that Jess’ favorite color was actually red rather than pink, but those were just tiny things. Maybe they would make a difference or maybe they wouldn’t. Either way, Sam was happy and he was actually doing something for himself for once. He had finally found a life that suited him. And then there was hunting…but that was something else. It almost felt like a light year since Sam left all that behind. And he was glad he did. That was, until Dean went looking for him.
The night everything burned to hell was a sign that normal was out of the question. That meant leaving Stanford and the beginning of restless nights, where shadows would be watching over him. They were always watching over him, but Sam had always ignored them. With Jess, he never felt scared. Even though he had been protecting her, with his arms wrapped loosely around her waist every night, he was sure things would be okay. They were supposed to be safe with each other. But truthfully, he knew he was lying to himself, what with his reoccurring nightmares haunting him.
Even though his perfect life had shattered, it didn’t really matter. When Dean came back for Sam, he saved his life. Dean was there and he tried his best to help and talk to Sam, even when he could hardly process what was going on. Dean sat Sam in the Impala, stroking his hair a few times before taking his own seat so they could drive off into the night. And into the night they went because the next thing Sam knew, he was lying down on a lumpy bed in his boxers, with the almost familiar scent of musky sheets filling his nostrils. It almost made things all right again.
Sam had snapped his eyes open instantly, taking in the closed blinds and what he could make out the small room. He hugged his pillow tighter to his face and tried to turn onto his back until he felt arms around him. Those arms pulled him closer to a body, a body a lot harder, flatter and leaner than Jess’. Sam tensed as he reached for the blankets, trying to push them away.
“Sammy?”
And that was all he needed to know. This was Dean beside him; Dean who had pulled Sam from a fire for the second time, who had always took care of him. Dean wasn’t Jess, because she was gone, but at least Dean knew what Sam needed. He wanted to be held by someone, and Dean had obliged to do just that. It was like old times.
Fear quickly vanished as Sam leaned toward Dean, only to hear a small sigh in return. They still smelled like smoke, despite taking showers with the cheap motel soap. The scent was still nice though, because Sam was certain if he could inhale deep enough, he would sense another scent that was just Dean. Personally, he loved the way Dean smelled, but Sam wasn’t going to tell him that. He let Dean’s hand rest on his bare stomach, and it was with some effort that Sam tried to suppress the smile on his face. His hand covered Dean’s as he let their fingers intertwine. This was something Sam knew. This was something he could never forget. Even if it was just for a night.
~~~~~
All the nights after that were either spent in the Impala, with Dean driving while Sam slept with his mouth hanging open, or else in various motel rooms. Dean always made sure there were two queen-sized beds; in fact he demanded upon it despite each owner’s assumptions. This never was an issue before, with people thinking that he and Dean were a pair, or more so, a couple. They were brothers, as Dean made sure to point out immediately before the questions arose, but even that shouldn’t have pissed Dean off so easily. After talking about it with Dean a few times (which resulted in nights where Dean stalked off to the local bar alone), Sam finally gave up and let Dean do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t like he was the one winning all the cash from poker, and he certainly wasn’t carrying any of the fake credit cards with him, but he knew how stubborn Dean could get, and surprisingly, he hadn’t changed at all since Sam left.
Sam personally didn’t care about the room arrangements, because what did it matter? Dean could always crawl into Sam’s bed if he wanted to, but that never happened, no matter how long Sam waited. He had liked it when Dean stayed in his bed that night of grieving because that was the only way he slept. Now, it seemed like Sam never slept at all. Without a body next him, even the slim and tiny body of Jess snuggled next to him, sleep was quite unnerving. His nightmares were getting more frequent, and going to Dean’s bed was not an option.
Dean had stopped being so “touchy-feely” after he began dating various girls throughout high school. Sam had stopped approaching Dean’s bed, and though Sam had his few share of girls, he found it was best sleeping with Dean. Dean had never put any pressure on him and he was always there when Sam needed him. Even though they didn’t sleep in the same bed anymore, Dean had still found ways to show his affection, whether it was with a playful punch, or the ruffling of Sam’s hair.
Now, there was none of that. Dean wouldn’t even touch him. Sam could feel the tension in the air, and he so desperately wanted to break it. They still had their jokes, but Sam just wasn’t into them. He felt helpless and guilty, with Dean always pushing himself to protect him. It had always been like that, from the Wendigo and the Shtriga, all the way up to River Grove, where that weird demon virus practically wiped out the whole population. Dean kept insisting it was nothing, as if protecting Sam was what he was supposed to do. But this whole act was taking its toll, and Sam wasn’t that stupid to see how it was draining all the energy out of his brother each time they went on a hunt. It was getting worse, with the dark circles under Dean’s eyes, and the constant verge for coffee runs in the morning and the late bar stays at night. Alcohol and girls had always been Dean’s remedy for anything, but it wasn’t going to last for long if he kept running away from his problems, and from Sam. So, Sam thought about changing tactics: to reach out to Dean.
Of course, Dean wasn’t much of a fan at first. He would brush Sam off, or call him a pansy. Sam knew Dean meant well, but he wanted to help him. He was sure Dean needed more help than ever when they had to make a run from the FBI after dealing with that shapeshifter in the bank. With the FBI on their tracks, they were screwed; at least those were Dean’s words. Sam remembered sitting next to Dean that night, even though it was clear Dean wanted to be alone, based on his stiff posture and his crossed legs on the bed. He was staring at the television screen as if he was mesmerized, and that had been Sam’s first clue that something was wrong. Dean was always laidback, and to see his brother sitting like this worried him. Sam had walked over to the bed, sitting down next to his brother before speaking.
“Dean?”
“Watching T.V.,” was Dean’s monotone response, his eyes still glued to the screen. The news was on, and when the hell did Dean watch the news?
“It’ll be fine,” Sam had said, though he knew that a blatant lie. Dean knew that too because that was when he shoved Sam away.
“Go take a shower, Sammy. You smell like a dead rat, and the stench is starting to get to me.”
But Sam could see right through this, and he knew Dean was trying to push him away, trying to bottle up his feelings, just because he could. “Not until we talk, Dean.”
Dean looked at Sam incredulously before shoving him again, this time a little bit harder. “Dude, we’re on the damn news! We’re making big headlines, for Christ’s sake! The FBI’s onto us! What the hell is there to talk about?”
“Dean…”
“Go take a shower.”
“No.”
“Sam, I’m not up for playing your fucking games!” retorted Dean, glaring at Sam with contempt. “Seriously, get your ass in the bathroom before I…”
But then Dean closed his eyes and let out a deep groan instead, his tense shoulders finally loosening up. Sam could feel the stiffness leave from under his fingertips as soon as he squeezed his brother’s shoulders. He simply grinned as he knelt on the bed behind his brother to continue his ministrations. He worked out all the knots within those muscles, and perhaps this was what Dean needed. Sam squeezed some more before using his thumbs to firmly rub small circles into Dean’s hard flesh, which eventually made their way toward his back. He was actually surprised Dean hadn’t recoiled from him; instead, he was leaning forward, allowing Sam to do whatever he pleased. Sam could only grin wider.
He was pretty sure those random one-night stands never thought about doing this for Dean, and for Sam to be the one giving Dean this pleasure, one of relaxation, made the weight in Sam’s heart a little bit lighter. At least he was trying to help, even though a simple massage was all he could really do. There was silence now, a different one from all those previous years, one of a mutual understanding between the two of them that they would figure things out somehow.
It was after ten minutes later that Sam had found himself with a very sleepy Dean. Dean was leaning forward so much that he was about to fall right onto the floor. Sam quickly scooped Dean by the armpits, laying him back in the bed before pulling the sheets back to tuck him in. It was nice to be doing this for once, Sam had mused before going to the bathroom to take a very long shower. Brothers took care of each other, and it was with pride that Sam snuck into bed next to Dean, resting his hand on his hip before drifting off to sleep. Dean didn’t stir at all.
~~~~~
Sam took to sleeping in Dean’s bed from then on, even though Dean didn’t really like it. But Sam always saw a glint of something, perhaps relief or admiration, in Dean’s eyes whenever he tried to resist Sam from snuggling up to him like a teddy bear. Sam just smirked before getting under the sheets and pressing his chest against Dean’s back. He had forgotten how they used to do this so often years ago, but now their positions were reversed, with Sam spooning against Dean, with Dean’s hand on top of Sam’s. Sam swore he could hear Dean’s low mutterings of “Such a girl,” or “I should get you a stuffed animal,” and that only made him happier as he wrapped his arms tighter around Dean. If Dean didn’t like this, surely he would have jerked away by now every time this happened. But Dean never seemed to move, and now he made the habit of pressing a light kiss on Sam’s cheek, whispering a faint good night as he turned out the lights.
It was only through really rough hunts that Dean would give in all together, offering himself completely to Sam. Of course, Sam wasn’t going to do anything against Dean’s will, and the rare times he did see his brother in a distraught state was when he made the effort to hug him tighter when they slept together. Sometimes he found himself rubbing small circles against Dean’s bare back again to get him to relax, and even a small trail of kisses along Dean’s neck was enough to make the best of another night of sleep. And even though Sam would find Dean up before him the next morning, as if nothing happened the previous night, he knew he was helping Dean somehow. The extra packet of Twinkies or breakfast sandwich said all. Cuddling at night seemed to work the best, because the rare few times Sam had propositioned to do so during times of endless research had made Dean laugh in his face.
“We’re not an old married couple, Sammy,” Dean told him once with a crooked smile, shaking his head with amusement. “Sometimes, you really do act like a chick.”
Sam had sighed morosely at that comment, the flush rising rapidly to his cheeks. Dean let out a hearty laugh before clapping him on the back.
“Don’t worry! I won’t spill out your secret. Now get back to work, geek boy. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”
Dean would always act like himself again most of the time, with sarcasm and humor Sam wanted to hate but secretly liked. Of course, there were times when Sam wanted to discuss things a little more, about how they were feeling and what to do next, but he knew Dean would have none of that. Sometimes words unsaid were better, because at least they knew they were there, floating right between them.
But nights like this, a night where an army of demons were on the loose, even with the Yellow-Eyed Demon gone, did require words. Sam knew that and so did Dean, but neither of them wanted to be the first to bring it up. Sam was still wincing when he went upstairs to his room at Bobby’s, and he could sense that Dean was right behind him. Bobby had done his best to tend the deep wound in Sam’s back, and it was only wise to stay here for a few days before figuring out what to do next before hunting down the demons. And it was going to take a hell lot more than two Winchester brothers to get the job done.
Sam plopped onto the small bed, resting his elbows on his knees as he covered his face with his hands. What had Dean done? He still couldn’t believe it Dean had sold his soul away, for him. For Sam to live. He had dealt with a lot of horrible things in the past, but this…no this he could not deal with. Not yet. So much had happened in a span for a few hours and now all the memories were racing through Sam’s mind. It happened so fast, and if the Yellow-Eyed Demon was really dead, then why wasn’t this war over yet? Why did they have to keep suffering? At least they finally got rid of the son of a bitch. Dad would have been proud of them both, of him and Dean. Perhaps it could have been much worse. Before Sam could think of anything else though, he felt the mattress sink beside him.
“It’s going to be okay. I’ll make it okay, Sammy,” said the voice close to Sam’s ear.
Sam merely looked up find Dean staring at him with an expression he had never seen before. Dean had always been careful to mask his emotions, but now they were shining out like a beacon of light. There had to be fear there, anguish, concern, and was there really…no. Sam was probably delirious if he thought he had seen love. He was just glad Dean was here and he should be grateful for even that. Sam could feel the tears welling in his eyes, and it was right when Dean slid his arm around him that he let them fall. Dean put a hand to Sam’s face, using a thumb to brush some of the tears away. Sam stopped crying immediately.
“D-Dean…”
“Sammy, no…don’t say anything,” started Dean, his eyes locking with Sam’s. “God, Sammy, you have no idea what it’s been like. And for you to be all right…to be here…”
“But-”
Dean pushed Sam gently onto his back. Sam winced for the second time tonight, and Dean fell back next to him before pulling Sam gently on top of him. Sam could feel Dean’s heart racing, feel the rise and fall of his chest, feel the familiar warm breath against his face. But he could also feel-
“Dean?” asked Sam with surprise, shifting slightly against his brother.
“Shit!” hissed Dean, arching off the bed to press into Sam. “I-I didn’t want it to be like this…I just…oh God!”
“Dean…you’re-”
“Don’t say it, Sammy,” said Dean through gritted teeth. He flung his arms tightly around Sam’s neck, pulling Sam even closer to him. “I know, I’m sorry…I just-”
“You’re sorry?”
“Sammy, shut up.”
Before he knew it, Sam found himself being kissed. It wasn’t gentle and slow, like with Jess. No, this kiss was just the opposite. It was clumsy, rough, and definitely wet. Sam could feel saliva dripping down his chin, but it didn’t matter because Dean was kissing him and he was actually liking it. He could feel Dean’s lips pressing harder against his own, and despite the blood and grime all over their faces, this was perfect. Sam dug his elbows into the mattress as he leaned forward to gain more access to Dean’s mouth. He let a low moan as teeth nibbled down on his bottom lip. He could taste blood, probably from the fights from earlier, but he could also taste Dean.
Nudging a knee between Dean’s thighs, he managed to get Dean to arch against him again. Dean opened his mouth wider, letting out a guttural groan. Sam didn’t waste the opportunity to plunge his tongue right in, exploring that mouth for the first time. It was a risky yet exhilarating experience. Sam didn’t care if this was his brother, that this was wrong, because it felt oh-so right to him. He didn’t care what other people thought. Right now, he was sharing a special moment with Dean. Or rather, quite a few special moments. Sam decided to leave his knee where it was, rubbing it against Dean’s crotch. Dean bit down on Sam’s lip again, and it was Sam’s turn to gasp. His hips bucked against Dean’s, and that was when Sam finally understood what this meant for the both of them.
“This?” Sam panted out after breaking away from Dean. “You like this?”
Dean nodded weakly as he tried to pull Sam into another kiss, but Sam pushed him away.
“Really?”
‘Yeah,” replied Dean roughly. “I want you.”
“Me?”
“You, Sammy. Only you.”
“What about girls? You know, one-night stands?”
“They’re not you,” choked out Dean before smashing his lips together with Sam’s once more.
Sam decided to enjoy it, letting his hands wander down to Dean’s arms, his chest, and damn, why did they have so much clothes on? Sam could feel himself getting more desperate, but he refused to indulge his temptation. He broke the kiss again, this time more reluctantly, and straddled Dean with his long legs instead. He watched Dean intently, waiting for him to open his eyes.
“Sam…”
“So if we do this, does that mean we get to cuddle more?” asked Sam innocently, raising his eyebrows.
Dean just stared at Sam before smacking him lightly on the arm. “Aren’t you just funny?”
Sam laughed before getting off of Dean. Not that he wanted to, but they could always do a lot more another time. Maybe at the next motel, Sam decided silently as he lay down next to Dean. “My offer still stands,” he persisted lazily as he gazed at the ceiling. “And it won’t ever expire…”
“Fine,” Dean grunted out, pulling Sam closer to him. “I’ll be nice and gentle this time…because, well…”
“Aww! You’re so sweet!” teased Sam in a sing-song voice.
“I hate you,” mumbled Dean, sliding up behind Sam.
“Yeah right.”
“Bitch.”
“Jerk.”
It would be sometime later that Bobby would find John Winchester’s boys sleeping in each other’s embraces. Little did they know that their secret was now out. It had never really been a secret in the first place though, and it was certainly not forbidden to share their love with one another. This was just fact.