FIC - Ready To Run
title: Ready to Run
pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/OFC
Rating: eventually NC-17
Word Count: ~8,600
Warnings: underage, pre-series
Summary: Dean talks John into letting Sam have a whole year at one school. This story just explores how things could have turned out differently. Or not. Thanks to obstinatrix and my friend Kristine for the cheerleading and beta reading.
Fayetteville was the shittiest North Carolina town where they had ever ended up. Which was saying something, as far as shitty North Carolina towns go. It was worse than Apex or Robersonville, and even worse than that little place in the western part of the state that was cold and scary but at least had beautiful scenery. This was more like Deliverance-land without the lovely mountain-top views. There was an Army base, and there were the usual accompanying tattoo parlors, strip clubs and pawn shops. And that was pretty much it.
Except for the university, which offered a high school program that was tailored to the needs of gifted teenagers, boasting the opportunity of college credits for some of their classes.
And that, folks, is what put Dean in a full-on row with his father, while Sam was out. Dean argued that Sam needed it, it was important, while John argued that Sam wasn’t going to college anyway, so it didn’t matter. Dean suspected that his father could be wrong, which didn’t happen often, so he kept it up. One year. Just one year at the same school, John could keep hunting, Dean would give it up for long enough for Sammy to have this, just this one thing. Dean would look out for Sam, get a job, take care of whatever needed to be taken care of, please, a word that so rarely escaped Dean’s mouth…that was probably was what had put John over the edge and gotten him to agree. John would leave what cash he could, and send more as he came by it, but he told Dean that Sam would be his responsibility if he wanted this so bad.
Honestly. What was the surprise in that? Sam had been his responsibility since he was fucking four years old. Whatever. It wouldn’t be that hard, Sam was going into 11th grade, farther than Dean had ever gotten. He had just turned 16 in May, so it’s not like Dean would be babysitting. They hadn’t had a chance to get (make) Sam a driver’s license, so Dean would have to drive him around for now, but other than that, there was no big loss. Nine months of hunting versus nine months of Sam finally getting that little bit of “normal” that he craved so badly. It was no contest.
Especially when Dean saw that thing that had been in hiding for a couple of years now, that one amazing, beautiful thing that made the whole world okay for just a few seconds. Sam’s smile. The real one, with the teeth and the dimples and the look of awe and disbelief at the notion that he’d been given something good. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Dean found himself wrapped in Sam’s arms.
“Thank you Dean, oh my God, I don’t know how you pulled this off, but…thank you. Really.” As Sam settled in on the couch, intently studying the brochures from Cross Creek Early College High School, Dean thought again how 9 months without hunting was nothing compared to this.
John was already leaving for his first hunt since they’d arrived in Fayetteville, and Dean was busy working on logistics. The school, though it was on a college campus and geared toward gifted students, was still a public school, which meant they had a bus route. Sam could take the bus to and from school, and that might not be ideal, but Dean needed to make sure his schedule was flexible as he started his job hunt. Along with the bars and strip clubs, there were plenty of garages and body shops along the main strip in town, and it didn’t take him longer than a day to find someone willing to take him on in an entry level position. Dean was at first a bit insulted to know he’d be relegated to patching tires and checking oil levels, but he knew once his boss figured out he was capable of much more challenging work, that would change. It didn’t pay much, but it was enough to get by if their dad kept his promise to leave them a decent amount of cash and they were careful with their budget. They had years of experience stretching their grocery store dollars, so that shouldn’t be a problem.
Within a couple of weeks, John was gone, Sam’s school supplies were purchased, and Dean was patting his nervous brother on the shoulder as he readied himself to board the bus to yet another new school. “Just remember, Sammy, you’ll be here the whole year. You’re going to blow this school’s mind. And you better have some fucking dinner ready when I get home, bitch.”
“Jerk”, Sam responded automatically as he turned away, walked out the door, and stepped onto the bus. Dean felt the familiar sense of dread anytime Sam was out of his sight, but let it go quickly as he changed into his blue coveralls and guided the Impala to another day of checking tires and emissions testing.
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The first day at a new school was something Sam had done at least 20 times, and he was used to the whole “Class, say hello to our new student Sam Winchester, is there anything you’d like to say Sam?” thing. For once, Sam didn’t just shake his head and lower his eyes.
“Thanks, I’m really grateful to be in such a good school, uh, and I, um, I’m looking forward to this year.” What the fuck? He turned completely red as he headed back to his seat. At least he wasn’t the only one, though. This being a military town, there were more transients than usual, more kids to be introduced to the class than just him.
A couple of weeks passed before he actually met anyone, at least more than to say hi or borrow a pencil from. His chem lab partner, Chase, asked him out of the blue as they were pouring different solutions into to beaker, whether or not he’d made any friends yet, as casual a question as it could possibly be. Chase was generally quiet, but he had a kind look in his eyes. And he was…Sam guessed maybe he was pretty, for a boy. Black hair, light blue eyes, skin like porcelain. Not nearly as tall as Sam, but honestly, who was?
“Well, no. Not really. I guess I kind of keep to myself most of the time.”
“You know, Sam, I’ve been here a couple of years, and I have some of friends. I could introduce you, and then you’d have as many friends as me. They’re not assholes or anything, they’re nice, and they’re always happy to meet new people. If you want, we could go to Sonic after school. They have happy hour from 3-5, half price slushies.” Chase continued following the directions on their lab sheet while he talked, as if offering up his friendship to a stranger was an easy thing to do.
“I don’t have a car. I take the bus home.”
“You can ride with me. My car’s a piece of garbage but it’s a car, so I’m not complaining.”
“Yeah, uh, I think I’d like that. My dad’s away on business, I need to call my brother and let him know, but thanks, I’ll go with you.”
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Dean had his usual instinctive negative feeling about Sam spending social time with someone outside the family, but didn’t have the heart to say no, and didn’t see the logic in denying the kid an afternoon with his classmates away from school. Home by six, not 6:01. Sam was thrilled. Dean was feeling magnanimous. He went back to his simple hose repair with a smile on his face.
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“Ever had a cherry limeade?” asked Chase when they pulled up at the Sonic.
“Nope.”
Sam got an eyeroll in return. “Let’s go order and we’ll sit at one of these tables. A couple more people will be by to meet us soon.”
After a few minutes, the “more people” showed up, as Sam was blissfully sucking on his cherry limeade (which was the most delicious thing he’d ever had to drink in his entire freaking life) and devouring his ketchup-covered tots.
A boy and a girl ambled over to their table, after having ordered their own tots and limeades through the speaker box.
Chase made the introductions. “Sean. Melissa. This is Sam, he’s new this year and in my chem lab and I think probably smarter than the three of us put together.” Sam felt his cheeks go pink with that comment. “Sam, this is Sean, and this is Melissa, and they’re my friends, which means now they’re your friends too. It’s kind of how we work. So I hope you guys end up liking each other.”
And, shockingly, they did. The conversation was easy, jokes and laughing and making fun of teachers and oh my God discussion of literature. Sam couldn’t think of a time in his life when he’d been more happy to spend time with anyone outside his own family.
The time passed quickly, and Sam reminded Chase that he needed to be home by six. “My brother’s a little overprotective. And also wants me to cook him some fucking dinner when he gets home from work,” he added with an eyeroll.
“OK, Donna Reed, let’s get you home then,” Chase said, balling up their trash and hooking it perfectly into the bin from 10 feet.
Never one to forget his manners, Sam told Sean and Melissa how great it was to have met them and that he hoped he’d see them soon.
Melissa told Sam to find them at lunch tomorrow.
As the following weeks passed, a routine became clear. The four of them sitting together at lunch, Chase and Melissa picking through whatever the cafeteria had on offer that day while Sean and Sam compared what they’d brought from home. Wednesday happy hour trips to Sonic were a weekly occurrence, and once they’d even rented movies and gone back to Sean’s place on a Friday night. Sam complained to his friends about his midnight curfew but secretly thanked Dean for even letting him stay out past dark, let alone get a ride home from a stranger.
For the first time, Sam realized…these were his friends. There wasn’t much Sam could share, his father was “away for work” a lot, his brother worked and took care of him, he filled in the gaps with funny stories about towns he’d lived in, prank wars and Dean’s innate ability to get into the panties of any girl he laid eyes on.
Sean was one of the many black students at their school, and had a really really nice house, like, the kind that made Sam want to never invite Sean to his house, ever. His parents were the type who sat down to a family dinner at a formal dining table every night, asked about homework, and expected their only child to keep his elbows off the table. They were always happy to have a houseful of Sean’s friends, and Sam suspected that was because they’d rather have him at home and know who his friends were than have him someplace else where they couldn’t be sure what he was doing.
Chase lived in a trailer not far from Sam’s small rented house, also an only child, whose parents were always around but not really all that concerned about what their son did, or who he was with, or how late he came home, as long as he was out of their hair. Sam wondered which was worse, living with no parents or living with parents who didn’t give a shit. He had an amazingly intriguing face that was more open and inviting than probably anyone Sam had ever known before.
Melissa lived in a middle class neighborhood about halfway between the Sonic and the school. She had four sisters (which always made Sam think about Fiddler on the Roof, though he never said anything), and her parents were divorced. Her house was constant chaos with all the girls running around everywhere, but it was happy chaos. She lived with her mom and visited her dad in Ohio during the summer. And she was beautiful. Like, real live gorgeous without ever wearing even a drop of makeup, wavy red hair flowing just barely past her shoulders on the days she didn’t pin in all on the top of her head with a pencil or a chopstick, green eyes and freckles and long legs and…none of that mattered because she was Sam’s friend, and not just some girl he was checking out.
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Sam had friends. Real friends. People he ate lunch with and hung out with outside of school and everything. His grades were stellar and he spent time working on projects, sometimes over the phone with one of his friends. Dean didn’t think he could possibly be any happier. Finally, fucking finally Sam was getting what he deserved. Maybe it was temporary, whatever. But he had it, and Dean was so fucking grateful.
During those first couple of months, John kept his hunts fairly local, staying away for only a week or so at a time, then spending a few days there with his boys. He made an attempt at normalcy, taking them out to dinner once in a while and trying to talk about things that weren’t related to hunting. He still had a tough time relating to Sam’s focus on academics and socializing, so the two of them butting heads was still a fairly regular occurrence. It wasn’t as bad as it used to be, though, since Sam had a home base and felt more secure than he had in the past. Most of the time he let the arguments go, because he knew his dad wasn’t going to come back in a week and tell them to pack up. John could be a son of bitch, that was true, but he wouldn’t break the promise he’d made to Dean, and it looked to him like his sons were doing just fine on their own for now.
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Sam immersed himself in school, friends, the occasional party, study groups, all the things he’d never let himself get too attached to before. He knew he probably shouldn’t be doing it now, but he couldn’t help himself. The day at the lunch table when he heard Chase jokingly call Melissa “Tzeitel” as she recounted some story about one of her exasperating younger sisters and he remembered that secret thought he’d had about her family reminding him of Fiddler on the Roof, it was like a revelation. These kids liked him, yeah, but they were like him, too.
He’d grown to love his domestic routine with his brother just as much, though. He’d gotten a little better at cooking, even branching out to meals that didn’t come from boxes or a frozen pre-made mix. Sam loved hearing Dean talk about his day, knowing the conversation would be about co-workers and crazy customers and timing belts instead of Wendigos or vengeful spirits. Knowing Dean would be coming home without needing to have a gash in his arm stitched up or be woken up every hour to guard against a concussion was incredibly comforting.
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Dean walked into the house to a heavenly smell but heard no response to his usual, “Honey, I’m home!” greeting as he shut the front door. As he ventured into the kitchen, he was stock-still in the hallway as he watched his brother, unaware of Dean’s presence. Sam was singing along softly to whatever the fuck was blaring through the earbuds from his secondhand iPod (Desire…cool this body down), hips swaying softly to the beat. He reached up to push his bangs out of his eyes and wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before bending down and removing something from the oven, using dishtowels as makeshift oven mitts. He smiled at his creation, then slipped a cookie sheet covered in sliced bread into the open door and adjusted the temperature.
Jesus Christ. Where the fuck did that raging hard-on just come from? Not from watching his brother cook and sway and sing. Definitely not from that. He shook off the terrifying feeling and got Sam’s attention, hoping there wasn’t some crazy lingering “I’m a sick pervert” look still on his face.
He guessed he was safe, because Sam just took out the earbuds and asked him how his day had been. And that was fantastic, because Dean had something to say. He’d been right when he’d taken this job, because today his boss had told him he was moving up to a mechanic position, his talent was being wasted changing oil, and he was getting a raise, too. They wouldn’t be rolling around in cash but it would help, since their Dad hadn’t been contributing much financially, except making sure the rent was paid a few months in advance. Hearing this news made Sam smile again, that big stupid Sam smile, and he said, “Well I guess we’re celebrating then. Because I’m getting ready to blow your mind with this dinner, jerk.”
“Dude, is that lasagna? Like, not from the freezer section at Food Lion?”, he asked, as he saw the evidence - an empty box of noodles, a package of ricotta cheese, the wrapper from a pound of ground beef in the trash, a cheese grater in the sink.
“Sure is. And it’s gonna knock your socks off. Garlic bread will be ready in ten minutes. You wanna watch Dirty Harry? I already finished my homework.”
And just like that, things were back to normal. Dean wrote off his earlier reaction as a fluke, because this - well, this was just them. Talking about work and school, eating dinner and watching R rated movies like normal brothers. Okay, then.
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At school, things seemed to be changing a bit. His little group of friends was as close as they ever were, but all of a sudden, Melissa was grabbing the seat next to Sam’s at lunch every day, and he was getting winks and sly looks from Chase and Sean. When it started, Sam brushed it off as the overactive imagination of his horny teenage friends. Not that he wasn’t just as horny as they were, he was probably worse because the two of them had actually had sex while Sam had never gotten past second base with a girl. And how did he get lucky enough that he had friends who didn’t make fun of him for that? Hell, even Dean ripped on him for being a virgin every now and then, but other than a few good-natured jokes, they didn’t make him feel bad about it. Nothing was really ever said until one day when Sam was working in the library with Chase on a paper for English class (fucking Beowulf, seriously, every school in the country was required to torture their students with that one, Sam guessed), when Chase asked Sam what he was going to do about Melissa.
“Why do I have to do something about Melissa?” Sam asked, just to stall, because he had no fucking clue what to do.
“Come on, man, you’re the smartest kid I know, don’t tell me you can’t see her little ‘I’ve got a crush on you’ eyes. And she’s hot, you know she’s hot.”
“But what if I ask her out and she says no or something goes horribly wrong and we can’t be friends anymore? Collateral damage, dude. Think about it.” All valid points, but the truth was that though he was certainly attracted to Melissa, there was just something that made it feel not right. Maybe it was the threat to the dynamic of their close little group, or maybe it was some other unnamable thing that Sam just hadn’t figured out yet.
“All I can tell you, Sam, is that you’re not an asshole and she’s not vindictive. See what happens. I really think that if it doesn’t work out, as long as you’re both honest with each other, it’ll be all right.” Then he smirked, raised his eyebrows and added, “Seriously, dude, you should hit that.”
Sam threw his pencil at Chase and the conversation was over.
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Before they knew it, it was closing in on Thanksgiving. Sam would be home from school for a few days, and Dad would (allegedly) be joining them there. Dean prayed to everything he could think of that it would be a peaceful holiday. Apparently their luck was holding out.
John was there with them for four days. The arguing was kept at a bare minimum, and Sam turned out a roasted turkey breast with real mashed potatoes (not from a box of flakes) and that green bean casserole with the fried onion thingies on the top of it for Thanksgiving dinner. He showed his dad some of the projects he’d gotten A’s on at school, and John, bless his fucking heart, told Sam he was proud of him. Later, once Sam was asleep and Dean was sharing a couple of Millers with his dad, John told Dean he was proud of him too.
“You’re a hell of a hunter, Dean, and I hope you don’t ever want to give up on that. But you’re a family man, I always knew that about you. Look at all you’ve taught your brother these past few months. He’s getting to be a man, and damn fine man, too. I can’t tell you I don’t miss having you two along with me on hunts, though, and I’ll be glad to have you boys on my six once we’re all hunting together again.”
Dean didn’t want to think about that, but he didn’t want to argue either, so he just agreed with his dad and settled in to hearing the stories about what kinds of things John had salted and burned with Bobby or Rufus lately. Truth was, Dean did miss hunting, more than he thought he would.
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On the Saturday before Thanksgiving break ended, John got back on the road and Sam asked his brother a kind of insane question.
“Dean, can I borrow your car tonight?”
For a minute, Dean just kind of started at him like he’d grown a second head, but then he evenly responded, “You don’t have a license, dumbass, you’re not taking my baby out for a joyride.”
“I know how to drive, Dean,” Sam replied with just the perfect amount of righteous indignation. “Plus, I won’t be going far. Just thought I’d take Melissa to, like, a movie or something.”
Ohhhhh. Now that might get things moving in the right direction. “The redhead? With the legs? Way to go, Sammy! All right, but you get pulled over and your ass is toast, you got it? And you get her back here by midnight. And by her, I mean the car, not the girl.”
Sam wanted to comment on how it was really evolved that Dean had noticed Melissa wasn’t legless, but he practically beamed at the agreement. “Thanks Dean, you’re the best. And I swear, I won’t even ruin her acoustics with my music.”
Walking out the door with the car keys in his hand a couple of hours later, Dean slipped a condom into the back pocket of Sam’s jeans and said “Go get her, tiger” with a sly grin on his face. Sam thought he saw something else in his brother’s eyes for just a second, concern maybe, probably for the Impala, but it was there and gone before Sam could identify it.
The spectacular lack of planning on Sam’s part was probably what led to the night going the way it did. He picked up Melissa, whose mother poked her head out from the din of running around and giggling in the living room and told them to have a good time before turning her attention back on the younger girls. They drove to the theater and the movie they wanted to see didn’t start for over an hour. Neither of them wanted anything to eat, and there was really not much else to do while they waited. Except for make out in the car.
The first kiss was tentative and slow but that quickly gave way to their tongues eagerly exploring each other’s mouths and necks, Sam’s hand in Melissa’s hair and Melissa’s fingers grasping onto the hem of Sam’s shirt. Fifteen minutes later, they’d both lost their shirts and Sam was pulling little moans of pleasure out of his date as he caressed her nipples over the thin material of her pink bra.
Melissa broke their contact and said “Sam, I’m not a sex on the first date kind of girl usually, but we’re kind of at stop or go time here. I don’t want to push you in either direction, but…”, she eyed the backseat and turned back to Sam. “I don’t really want to stop.”
Sam shivered and wanted so badly to say no, it wasn’t right for them to just fuck in the car without him at least having taken her out a few times, but he was 16 and she was hot and it was her damn idea anyway, so he didn’t say no. He kissed her again, mentally reminding himself to thank Dean for sticking that condom into his back pocket, and they went through the awkward process that accompanies sex in a car - getting their clothes off in a confined space without elbowing each other in the head, climbing into the backseat, finding as comfortable a position as possible.
“I, uh…I haven’t, you know, done this before,” he told her between kisses, not stopping the motion of his hands on every part of her body he could reach. She was so fucking soft, and beautiful, half-sitting against the inside of the driver’s side of the backseat, her head tilted back on the window, sighs of pleasure falling from her lips as Sam sucked at her nipples and moved his hands up and down the insides of her thighs as he knelt between her legs.
“Yeah, I know, but I have a feeling you’ve already figured out how things work,” she responded breathlessly.
All of a sudden, he felt brave, so he moved backwards and just did what he thought he should do. He’d seen enough porn to know what made girls come, and goddamn he wanted to make Melissa come. So he slid two fingers into her and licked at her clit, making himself dizzy as he saw her grab onto the back of the driver’s seat and heard her curse for the first time ever. He figured he was doing it right, so he just kept it up, loving the taste of her, the smell of her pussy, the feeling of her shuddering underneath him and the sound of his name now punctuating her cursing as he moved his tongue and fingers with more speed. For a few seconds, she grew very quiet and still, then he felt her muscles contract against the fingers he had inside of her as she stuttered “S-s-s-am, God, fuck, Sam…”, then made a choked-off and desperate sound he’d certainly never heard in any shitty porno, because it was real. It was fucking real, and he did that, he made this girl moan like that, and he was clearly the king of the entire fucking universe.
Melissa recovered enough to grab Sam by his shoulders and haul him up to eye level. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide, and she simply said “Fuck me, Sam.” With shaking hands, he rolled on the condom, guided her into more of a lying down position, and looked into her eyes as he slid into her, still wet from her orgasm. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as she pushed back against his thrusts, and he’d never imagined it would feel like this. As things just naturally went, though, it didn’t last for long. Sam felt his orgasm building in what he figured was probably a humiliatingly short amount of time, and he shook as she encouraged him by repeating “Yeah, Sam, come on” softly in his ear. The second he came, he was looking right at her and, oh, fuck his ridiculous life, because all he could see was a picture in his mind of his brother smiling at him as he walked out the door that night. His very loud and passionate “Jesus Christ” was a result of the combination of his orgasm, the look on the face of this beautiful girl, and the fact that he’d possibly had an inappropriate thought about Dean while he was losing his virginity in the back seat of the car.
After giving themselves a few minutes to gather themselves and some post-coital lazy kissing, they started getting dressed again. Sam realized that he was still shaking. It was still early, but they were definitely going to miss the movie, so they stayed there, two smart kids who’d been friends for a while and just accidentally ended up fucking. Melissa laughed, and laid her head on Sam’s shoulder. “Well, that was unexpected. But amazing. Thanks.” She smiled up at him. “Hope it was good enough for your first time”, she giggled.
Sam looked down at her and smiled, kissed her forehead, and told her the truth, which was that it was better than he ever thought it would be. “Sorry about the movie, though. I feel bad. I swear I wasn’t looking for a chance to maul you in the car on our first date.”
“So, about that…when you say first date, does that mean you maybe want to take me out on a second date? Because I’m getting a feeling here that you might not be sure about, well, this,” she gestured between them, half dressed and stumbling over awkward post-sex conversation.
At that, Sam completely froze. It hadn’t occurred to him until he’d actually had sex with a girl that maybe there was a reason he’d put it off for so long. He still didn’t know what the reason was, he wasn’t gay and he was attracted to women, so there wasn’t anything glaringly obvious. “Honestly, you’re right. I’m not sure about it. And I can’t figure out why, because you just completely blew my fucking mind, and you’re beautiful, and I like you so much…”
True to character, Melissa didn’t waste any time getting to her point, and she cut him off there. “I have to tell you, Sam, that was fantastic sex, and I’d go for more in a hot second. But you’re my friend, and we’re telling each other the truth because it’s what we do. I’d rather keep you as a friend than risk losing what we’ve already got over something neither of us is really sure we want. Know what I mean?”
Her kindness and honesty were what attracted him to her so much in the first place, and he could have kissed her again right that second if it wouldn’t have given her a mixed signal. “Do you think it’s all right? I mean, do you think we can be how we’ve been, even after this? If I ruined our friendship tonight I’m going to kick myself in the ass for, like, a hundred years.”
“You didn’t ruin anything, you big dork. You’re still you, and I’m still me, and if you tell Chase or Sean that you fucked me in the back seat of your brother’s car over Thanksgiving break, I’ll throttle you to death with my bare hands.”
They both laughed then, genuinely, and climbed back into the front of the car. “You want a cherry limeade?” he asked. Obviously, the answer was yes, so they went for slushies and tots and he dropped her off and headed home, where he would likely spend the entire night awake and trying to figure out what the motherfuck was wrong with him.
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Dean could tell immediately that something was off when Sam got home. There was just absolutely no fucking way that he could stop himself from asking.
“You wanna give me that condom back, bitch? Or was your night better than you expected?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows and leering like a total pervert.
“Believe me, dude, you don’t want that condom back”, Sam responded, smiling slyly and trying to keep the conversation short and very light.
“Score one for Sammy! Hell yeah, man. You want a beer?”
“I’m tired, man, I just want to go to bed.”
Dean knew at this point that for sure something was not right. “Come on, Sam, I’m not going to ask you to give me a play by play. Just thought you might want to celebrate, that’s all.”
The dejected look on Dean’s face must have gotten to Sam, though, because he agreed to have a beer with him. Dean cracked open two bottles of Miller and slid one across the coffee table in front of where Sam was sitting, not looking nearly as happy as a kid who’d just lost his virginity should look.
For good measure, and because he knew it was expected, he said, “Tell me you didn’t fuck in my car, man.”
“We didn’t make a mess, honest. And I’ll clean all the upholstery tomorrow if it’ll make you feel better.”
“Forget it, dude. You’re not exactly looking celebratory. What’s going on in there? Don’t tell me you weren’t good at it. You’ve got my DNA, you have to be good at it.”
Sam laughed. “Yeah, she said I was good at it. I sure as hell felt like I was good at it. But…”
“What? Come on, man, it’s me. Spill.”
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Sam considered it for a second, took a long pull on his beer, and Dean saw him making his decision. This was his brother. If there was anyone he could tell anything to, regardless of any harmless kidding that might result, Dean was it.
“She’s gorgeous, Dean. And she likes me. And it felt good. Really good. But there was something about it that just didn’t seem right. Maybe because it was our first time going out? Or because we’ve been friends for a while? I don’t fucking know, man. I like her. But not…I don’t like her like that. And that’s stupid. What’s wrong with me?”
Sam figured his confusion and hurt was evident when he saw the look of concern in his brother’s eyes as he spoke. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You said you liked it, right? Maybe it’s her. You like her, but you don’t like her like that, like you said. Nothing wrong with it. Not every guy will just fuck any willing girl, you know.”
“Yeah, maybe. It’s just that there was this…” Oh fuck no, Sam was not going to tell his brother the whole story, “this moment right after where I thought it wasn’t right, that we were friends and we should stay friends. And then I started thinking about why I waited so long to do this in the first place, and whether or not there’s something wrong with me.” He finished his beer and grabbed another, which he gulped down almost all at once. His voice was very, very small but again, this was Dean, he could tell the truth. Almost. “I like girls. I know I do. I really think I do. I always thought I did. But what if I don’t?”
Dean put his hand on his brother’s chin and turned his face so they were eye to eye. “Look, man, if you liked this, and you always liked girls, you probably do. Maybe you like guys too. Maybe you don’t like girls, and you just haven’t figured it out yet, because you’re only 16, and it might turn out that you like dudes. Who gives a shit? You like who you like. But you’re too young to have to figure it out now, all right?”
Sam swallowed, hard, and just nodded, wanting very badly to look away from Dean, because the hand on his chin was making him feel things he didn’t so much want to think about.
“Go on to bed, kid, two is enough for you. And I’m looking over every inch of that car tomorrow, I swear to God.”
Laughing, Sam got up and headed down the hallway. “Thanks, Dean. Good night.”
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Dean sat in silence for a long, long time. He expected to be high-fiving his brother and celebrating him ridding himself of his virginity. He never thought Sam would feel so conflicted. And he certainly never thought he’d have this really uncomfortable ugly feeling about the thought of someone else with their hands all over Sam. He had to do something about this. It wasn’t right, and he couldn’t risk letting his brother find out he was having these thoughts about him. Every bit of the closeness they’d built up over the past few months would disappear if Sam found out Dean was a closet pedophile incestuous pervert. He drank another beer, as if it was going to help him get even a minute of sleep.
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School was back in session on Monday and thank every single thing on and off this planet that was good and holy, Melissa was true to her word. She was still Sam’s friend, and didn’t make him feel uncomfortable, and the collateral damage he had mentioned to Chase never happened. He was so fucking grateful that things could just go back to how they’d been this whole time. They ate lunch, studied, went out for slushies, watched movies, and just stayed like they were, a group of kids who liked each other for who they really were.
Several times (not because he was trying to avoid Melissa) Sam tried to make an excuse for skipping their Wednesday afternoon trips to Sonic, and Sean, who must have had ESP or something, goaded him into joining them, making up some kind of celebratory reason for treating everyone that day. I got an A on my trig test! Only two weeks til Chistmas break! (Anything but Shut up, Sam, I’ll pay, I have my own credit card.) For a kid who’d never had to worry about money a day in his life, he seemed to have a direct pipeline into Sam’s effort to try not to spend any unnecessarily, and the courtesy to not make it obvious.
Sam was extraordinarily grateful for this, because he had a whole lot of other things on his mind. The whole “do I like guys” thing, first and foremost. He thought about Chase, remembered the first time he talked to him, thinking he was attractive. For a guy. But he’d never wanted to kiss him. He’d never thought about having any kind of sexual encounter with Chase, or with Sean, or with any of the other guys he knew casually from school.
But since that night with Melissa, he’d thought about Dean in that way more and more often. He spent a whole lot of time and mental effort trying to rationalize and dismiss it, but the truth was there in front of his eyes, and he couldn’t make it go away. It would have been like embracing the “young earth” theory and dismissing evolution because there was less thinking involved in the former and more complication involved in the latter. Sam’s brain didn’t work that way. Maybe Sam wasn’t gay. Or maybe he was. Either way, he had to face the truth. He wanted his brother. And if Dean ever found out, he’d break half of Sam’s bones. At least.
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John wasn’t going to be home for Christmas, but he’d be there shortly before, so they’d decided to celebrate early. This wasn’t the kind of thing they’d done in the past, without a “home base”, so to speak, but things were different this year. Dean took Sam to pick out a tree, a live one that smelled like Christmas, and along with their father, they decorated it and drank eggnog and exchanged small, token gifts. John even let Sam have some of the eggnog (only one glass, but still). They sat together for hours, listening to stories of John’s hunts, of Rufus or Bobby’s antics, and laughed and truly enjoyed each other’s company. Dean thought about how much better their relationship was when John was just a visitor, and felt guilty as hell. Their dad expected that they’d be hunting together again within six months or so.
Not that that was the only thing he had hanging over his head as they celebrated their early Christmas. His lustful feelings for Sam hadn’t gone away, they had only gotten more intense, and he was hopeful that he was only imagining that there were times he’d caught Sam looking at him with a dark expression, narrowed eyes that could easily have been suspicion.
Once John left again, the tree stayed. On Christmas morning, Dean handed Sam a wrapped gift as they sipped their coffee on the sofa, watching the local parade on television. He watched Sam’s face as he marveled at the battered copies of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, his eyes wide and glassy.
“Dean. Jesus, man, these are my favorite books. I only ever got to read them in pieces from school libraries. How did you….”
“I know everything. I’m your big brother. Now they’re yours, and you can read them whenever you want. Just remember, Tom Sawyer, you’re not Huck. That’s me.” He gave his brother a wicked grin and tried to figure out what he was seeing on his face. Sam leaned in close to him, not touching, but looking…so fucking close. Dean froze.
And so did Sam. Just for a second. But then he moved back, reached to the other side of the couch. “I got a present for you too, Huck”, he said, rolling his eyes and handing Dean a box wrapped in newspaper.
Dean had to put honest-to-God effort into holding back tears when he saw the gorgeous liner-lock pocketknife inside the package, the handle engraved with “DW” in some fancy script.
“Sam”, he said, trying the best he could to keep his voice even, “where did you get this? I don’t give you enough spending money…”
Sam shrugged. He’d tried unsuccessfully (due to his friends) to go without cherry limeades and tots and pretty much every single other thing he spent any money on at all for a month, since he’d seen this in a store and decided it would be Dean’s Christmas present.
“Robbed a bank.” he replied casually.
And that was just it. Dean reached across the couch and kissed his brother full on the mouth, then pulled back immediately. “I’m sorry. Sorry. God, Sam, I’m sorry for that, I just - thank you. I love it.” He wasn’t really sure what else to say, because as hard as he tried, it seemed impossible for him to just sink into the floor and disappear.
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Sam figured his brother would like his present, but he’d never allowed himself to hope for that kind of thank-you. Dean seemed appalled by what he’d done, kissing him that way. But after just half a minute of brain-wheel-turning, he asked Dean why he was sorry.
“Look, I know you’re not a kid, really, not anymore, but you’re still my baby brother. I gotta take care of you, not molest you like some sick fucking perv. I can’t believe you’re even still sitting here.”
“Dean. Look at me.”
Nothing.
“Please?”
Dean looked at him. Sam gathered everything he had, every ounce of courage, and spoke. Dean didn’t know that he prayed, even though he did it every day, but he’d never asked God for a Christmas miracle before that moment.
“Do it again.”
“Do what again?” Dean asked him, knowing exactly what the answer would be, but not understanding why.
“Kiss me again. You didn’t even give me a chance to kiss you back. That’s not exactly fair, is it?”
They stared at each other, just for a moment. But Dean did as his brother asked, and Sam finally, finally, had Dean against his lips, as he held onto Dean’s cheek and opened his mouth so they could kiss for real. The feeling was nothing like kissing any girl he’d ever known, and within three minutes there was no space between them. Sam was practically on this brother’s lap, and he boldly hooked his fingers into the waistband of Dean’s sleep pants, pulling gently but insistently.
Dean pulled back. His voice was thick as he asked Sam if he was sure.
“I’ve never been so sure of anything. Please, Dean.”
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Dean wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak, but he was afraid. What if his brother realized later today that this was a huge mistake and was scarred for life? But one look at Sam told him that was unlikely. His pupils were blown wide with lust and his skin was flushed with desire. He let Sam tug town the sweats he’d slept in and did the same to Sam’s. As many times as he’d pictured this in his head, he’d never thought things would move so fast. They were skin on skin, kissing roughly, Dean fisting at Sam’s long hair to keep his face at the right angle. Suddenly, Sam laid himself down on the couch, pulling Dean on top of him, their erections brushing together and sending electric sparks through them both.
“Please, Dean. I want you. You want me, right?” The look in his eyes was so hopeful.
Dean responded with a lust-wrecked and thick, “Yes, fuck, yes, I want you Sammy.”
“Do it, Dean. Fuck me. I want you to fuck me. Understand?”
That wasn’t something Dean needed to put a lot of thought into. He grabbed the hand lotion from the end table next to the sofa and coated his fingers in it before pressing lightly against Sam’s hole. He gave him a minute to relax before he pushed one finger inside, slowly, earning a deep throaty moan from his brother, and it was only seconds before Sam was pushing back against the touch, clearly wanting more. All right, so Sam hadn’t done this with anyone else, but Dean got the feeling he’d done it alone before, on more than an experimental basis. That only made him feel less guilty about pushing in another finger, then crooking it slightly, hitting Sam’s prostate and seeing his brother jerk up off the sofa with a choked off wail. Dean smiled and kept on going, moving his fingers in and out, adding a third one to make sure Sam was ready.
“Come on, fuck, Dean, just do it, I want you, please…”
The hand lotion came back out again, this time to cover Dean’s cock. “Say it again, Sammy. Tell me this is what you want. I have to be sure.”
“Yes, Christ, yes, it’s what I want, just do it, God, please Dean, fuck me”, Sam panted, holding on to his brother’s shoulders for dear life.
Dean moved Sam’s knees back toward his chest, and he lined up his cock and pushed in just the head, seeing Sam’s eyes roll backward and registering the pain on his face. “Too much, Sam? You want me to stop?”
“NO, no, don’t stop, I’m fine, don’t stop, I want you inside me,” Sam bit Dean on his forearm, hard, “Now.”
Dean pushed in all the way, feeling them flush against each other, and gave Sam a minute to adjust to the feeling. Then he started moving, slowly at first, little thrusts that only made them both want more. Dean had done this to girls before, but Sam had never had a cock in his ass, and he didn’t want to hurt his brother. Sam quickly dispelled any notions Dean had about his fragility when he wrapped his legs around Dean and promised him he wouldn’t break.
Sam met every one of Dean’s thrusts downward with one of this own upward, and cried out with moans and curses and his brother’s name until he got to be completely incoherent and could only moan and pant and whimper. Dean wrapped his hand around Sam’s cock and within minutes it was over, Sam coming all over Dean’s hand and both of their stomachs, and Dean spilling inside of Sam, crying out his name and resting his head on his brother’s chest, completely spent.
They were both in the after-sex immediate sleep zone. Before Dean drifted off, he heard Sam say, “Merry Christmas, Dean.”
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Sam still had another week off school. He cooked for his brother, read ahead for the next semester’s assignments, and learned how to suck dick like a pro. It was probably the greatest week of his entire fucking life.
When he got back to school, all his friends talked about were college plans. Sean had family in New Jersey, and Princeton was his first choice, Rutgers was his backup. Melissa didn’t want to venture too far from home, so her list consisted of Duke, UNC - Chapel Hill and UVA as a “safety school”. Chase knew he could get a scholarship and wanted a warm climate, so he was applying to UTA and Arizona State, as well as UNLV.
Sam signed up to take the SAT and started gathering college brochures from the guidance counselor. Harvard and Yale were gold standard, but it was cold there. He was thinking maybe Stanford was the place for him.
~end~
pairing: Sam/Dean, Sam/OFC
Rating: eventually NC-17
Word Count: ~8,600
Warnings: underage, pre-series
Summary: Dean talks John into letting Sam have a whole year at one school. This story just explores how things could have turned out differently. Or not. Thanks to obstinatrix and my friend Kristine for the cheerleading and beta reading.
Fayetteville was the shittiest North Carolina town where they had ever ended up. Which was saying something, as far as shitty North Carolina towns go. It was worse than Apex or Robersonville, and even worse than that little place in the western part of the state that was cold and scary but at least had beautiful scenery. This was more like Deliverance-land without the lovely mountain-top views. There was an Army base, and there were the usual accompanying tattoo parlors, strip clubs and pawn shops. And that was pretty much it.
Except for the university, which offered a high school program that was tailored to the needs of gifted teenagers, boasting the opportunity of college credits for some of their classes.
And that, folks, is what put Dean in a full-on row with his father, while Sam was out. Dean argued that Sam needed it, it was important, while John argued that Sam wasn’t going to college anyway, so it didn’t matter. Dean suspected that his father could be wrong, which didn’t happen often, so he kept it up. One year. Just one year at the same school, John could keep hunting, Dean would give it up for long enough for Sammy to have this, just this one thing. Dean would look out for Sam, get a job, take care of whatever needed to be taken care of, please, a word that so rarely escaped Dean’s mouth…that was probably was what had put John over the edge and gotten him to agree. John would leave what cash he could, and send more as he came by it, but he told Dean that Sam would be his responsibility if he wanted this so bad.
Honestly. What was the surprise in that? Sam had been his responsibility since he was fucking four years old. Whatever. It wouldn’t be that hard, Sam was going into 11th grade, farther than Dean had ever gotten. He had just turned 16 in May, so it’s not like Dean would be babysitting. They hadn’t had a chance to get (make) Sam a driver’s license, so Dean would have to drive him around for now, but other than that, there was no big loss. Nine months of hunting versus nine months of Sam finally getting that little bit of “normal” that he craved so badly. It was no contest.
Especially when Dean saw that thing that had been in hiding for a couple of years now, that one amazing, beautiful thing that made the whole world okay for just a few seconds. Sam’s smile. The real one, with the teeth and the dimples and the look of awe and disbelief at the notion that he’d been given something good. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Dean found himself wrapped in Sam’s arms.
“Thank you Dean, oh my God, I don’t know how you pulled this off, but…thank you. Really.” As Sam settled in on the couch, intently studying the brochures from Cross Creek Early College High School, Dean thought again how 9 months without hunting was nothing compared to this.
John was already leaving for his first hunt since they’d arrived in Fayetteville, and Dean was busy working on logistics. The school, though it was on a college campus and geared toward gifted students, was still a public school, which meant they had a bus route. Sam could take the bus to and from school, and that might not be ideal, but Dean needed to make sure his schedule was flexible as he started his job hunt. Along with the bars and strip clubs, there were plenty of garages and body shops along the main strip in town, and it didn’t take him longer than a day to find someone willing to take him on in an entry level position. Dean was at first a bit insulted to know he’d be relegated to patching tires and checking oil levels, but he knew once his boss figured out he was capable of much more challenging work, that would change. It didn’t pay much, but it was enough to get by if their dad kept his promise to leave them a decent amount of cash and they were careful with their budget. They had years of experience stretching their grocery store dollars, so that shouldn’t be a problem.
Within a couple of weeks, John was gone, Sam’s school supplies were purchased, and Dean was patting his nervous brother on the shoulder as he readied himself to board the bus to yet another new school. “Just remember, Sammy, you’ll be here the whole year. You’re going to blow this school’s mind. And you better have some fucking dinner ready when I get home, bitch.”
“Jerk”, Sam responded automatically as he turned away, walked out the door, and stepped onto the bus. Dean felt the familiar sense of dread anytime Sam was out of his sight, but let it go quickly as he changed into his blue coveralls and guided the Impala to another day of checking tires and emissions testing.
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The first day at a new school was something Sam had done at least 20 times, and he was used to the whole “Class, say hello to our new student Sam Winchester, is there anything you’d like to say Sam?” thing. For once, Sam didn’t just shake his head and lower his eyes.
“Thanks, I’m really grateful to be in such a good school, uh, and I, um, I’m looking forward to this year.” What the fuck? He turned completely red as he headed back to his seat. At least he wasn’t the only one, though. This being a military town, there were more transients than usual, more kids to be introduced to the class than just him.
A couple of weeks passed before he actually met anyone, at least more than to say hi or borrow a pencil from. His chem lab partner, Chase, asked him out of the blue as they were pouring different solutions into to beaker, whether or not he’d made any friends yet, as casual a question as it could possibly be. Chase was generally quiet, but he had a kind look in his eyes. And he was…Sam guessed maybe he was pretty, for a boy. Black hair, light blue eyes, skin like porcelain. Not nearly as tall as Sam, but honestly, who was?
“Well, no. Not really. I guess I kind of keep to myself most of the time.”
“You know, Sam, I’ve been here a couple of years, and I have some of friends. I could introduce you, and then you’d have as many friends as me. They’re not assholes or anything, they’re nice, and they’re always happy to meet new people. If you want, we could go to Sonic after school. They have happy hour from 3-5, half price slushies.” Chase continued following the directions on their lab sheet while he talked, as if offering up his friendship to a stranger was an easy thing to do.
“I don’t have a car. I take the bus home.”
“You can ride with me. My car’s a piece of garbage but it’s a car, so I’m not complaining.”
“Yeah, uh, I think I’d like that. My dad’s away on business, I need to call my brother and let him know, but thanks, I’ll go with you.”
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Dean had his usual instinctive negative feeling about Sam spending social time with someone outside the family, but didn’t have the heart to say no, and didn’t see the logic in denying the kid an afternoon with his classmates away from school. Home by six, not 6:01. Sam was thrilled. Dean was feeling magnanimous. He went back to his simple hose repair with a smile on his face.
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“Ever had a cherry limeade?” asked Chase when they pulled up at the Sonic.
“Nope.”
Sam got an eyeroll in return. “Let’s go order and we’ll sit at one of these tables. A couple more people will be by to meet us soon.”
After a few minutes, the “more people” showed up, as Sam was blissfully sucking on his cherry limeade (which was the most delicious thing he’d ever had to drink in his entire freaking life) and devouring his ketchup-covered tots.
A boy and a girl ambled over to their table, after having ordered their own tots and limeades through the speaker box.
Chase made the introductions. “Sean. Melissa. This is Sam, he’s new this year and in my chem lab and I think probably smarter than the three of us put together.” Sam felt his cheeks go pink with that comment. “Sam, this is Sean, and this is Melissa, and they’re my friends, which means now they’re your friends too. It’s kind of how we work. So I hope you guys end up liking each other.”
And, shockingly, they did. The conversation was easy, jokes and laughing and making fun of teachers and oh my God discussion of literature. Sam couldn’t think of a time in his life when he’d been more happy to spend time with anyone outside his own family.
The time passed quickly, and Sam reminded Chase that he needed to be home by six. “My brother’s a little overprotective. And also wants me to cook him some fucking dinner when he gets home from work,” he added with an eyeroll.
“OK, Donna Reed, let’s get you home then,” Chase said, balling up their trash and hooking it perfectly into the bin from 10 feet.
Never one to forget his manners, Sam told Sean and Melissa how great it was to have met them and that he hoped he’d see them soon.
Melissa told Sam to find them at lunch tomorrow.
As the following weeks passed, a routine became clear. The four of them sitting together at lunch, Chase and Melissa picking through whatever the cafeteria had on offer that day while Sean and Sam compared what they’d brought from home. Wednesday happy hour trips to Sonic were a weekly occurrence, and once they’d even rented movies and gone back to Sean’s place on a Friday night. Sam complained to his friends about his midnight curfew but secretly thanked Dean for even letting him stay out past dark, let alone get a ride home from a stranger.
For the first time, Sam realized…these were his friends. There wasn’t much Sam could share, his father was “away for work” a lot, his brother worked and took care of him, he filled in the gaps with funny stories about towns he’d lived in, prank wars and Dean’s innate ability to get into the panties of any girl he laid eyes on.
Sean was one of the many black students at their school, and had a really really nice house, like, the kind that made Sam want to never invite Sean to his house, ever. His parents were the type who sat down to a family dinner at a formal dining table every night, asked about homework, and expected their only child to keep his elbows off the table. They were always happy to have a houseful of Sean’s friends, and Sam suspected that was because they’d rather have him at home and know who his friends were than have him someplace else where they couldn’t be sure what he was doing.
Chase lived in a trailer not far from Sam’s small rented house, also an only child, whose parents were always around but not really all that concerned about what their son did, or who he was with, or how late he came home, as long as he was out of their hair. Sam wondered which was worse, living with no parents or living with parents who didn’t give a shit. He had an amazingly intriguing face that was more open and inviting than probably anyone Sam had ever known before.
Melissa lived in a middle class neighborhood about halfway between the Sonic and the school. She had four sisters (which always made Sam think about Fiddler on the Roof, though he never said anything), and her parents were divorced. Her house was constant chaos with all the girls running around everywhere, but it was happy chaos. She lived with her mom and visited her dad in Ohio during the summer. And she was beautiful. Like, real live gorgeous without ever wearing even a drop of makeup, wavy red hair flowing just barely past her shoulders on the days she didn’t pin in all on the top of her head with a pencil or a chopstick, green eyes and freckles and long legs and…none of that mattered because she was Sam’s friend, and not just some girl he was checking out.
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Sam had friends. Real friends. People he ate lunch with and hung out with outside of school and everything. His grades were stellar and he spent time working on projects, sometimes over the phone with one of his friends. Dean didn’t think he could possibly be any happier. Finally, fucking finally Sam was getting what he deserved. Maybe it was temporary, whatever. But he had it, and Dean was so fucking grateful.
During those first couple of months, John kept his hunts fairly local, staying away for only a week or so at a time, then spending a few days there with his boys. He made an attempt at normalcy, taking them out to dinner once in a while and trying to talk about things that weren’t related to hunting. He still had a tough time relating to Sam’s focus on academics and socializing, so the two of them butting heads was still a fairly regular occurrence. It wasn’t as bad as it used to be, though, since Sam had a home base and felt more secure than he had in the past. Most of the time he let the arguments go, because he knew his dad wasn’t going to come back in a week and tell them to pack up. John could be a son of bitch, that was true, but he wouldn’t break the promise he’d made to Dean, and it looked to him like his sons were doing just fine on their own for now.
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Sam immersed himself in school, friends, the occasional party, study groups, all the things he’d never let himself get too attached to before. He knew he probably shouldn’t be doing it now, but he couldn’t help himself. The day at the lunch table when he heard Chase jokingly call Melissa “Tzeitel” as she recounted some story about one of her exasperating younger sisters and he remembered that secret thought he’d had about her family reminding him of Fiddler on the Roof, it was like a revelation. These kids liked him, yeah, but they were like him, too.
He’d grown to love his domestic routine with his brother just as much, though. He’d gotten a little better at cooking, even branching out to meals that didn’t come from boxes or a frozen pre-made mix. Sam loved hearing Dean talk about his day, knowing the conversation would be about co-workers and crazy customers and timing belts instead of Wendigos or vengeful spirits. Knowing Dean would be coming home without needing to have a gash in his arm stitched up or be woken up every hour to guard against a concussion was incredibly comforting.
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Dean walked into the house to a heavenly smell but heard no response to his usual, “Honey, I’m home!” greeting as he shut the front door. As he ventured into the kitchen, he was stock-still in the hallway as he watched his brother, unaware of Dean’s presence. Sam was singing along softly to whatever the fuck was blaring through the earbuds from his secondhand iPod (Desire…cool this body down), hips swaying softly to the beat. He reached up to push his bangs out of his eyes and wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before bending down and removing something from the oven, using dishtowels as makeshift oven mitts. He smiled at his creation, then slipped a cookie sheet covered in sliced bread into the open door and adjusted the temperature.
Jesus Christ. Where the fuck did that raging hard-on just come from? Not from watching his brother cook and sway and sing. Definitely not from that. He shook off the terrifying feeling and got Sam’s attention, hoping there wasn’t some crazy lingering “I’m a sick pervert” look still on his face.
He guessed he was safe, because Sam just took out the earbuds and asked him how his day had been. And that was fantastic, because Dean had something to say. He’d been right when he’d taken this job, because today his boss had told him he was moving up to a mechanic position, his talent was being wasted changing oil, and he was getting a raise, too. They wouldn’t be rolling around in cash but it would help, since their Dad hadn’t been contributing much financially, except making sure the rent was paid a few months in advance. Hearing this news made Sam smile again, that big stupid Sam smile, and he said, “Well I guess we’re celebrating then. Because I’m getting ready to blow your mind with this dinner, jerk.”
“Dude, is that lasagna? Like, not from the freezer section at Food Lion?”, he asked, as he saw the evidence - an empty box of noodles, a package of ricotta cheese, the wrapper from a pound of ground beef in the trash, a cheese grater in the sink.
“Sure is. And it’s gonna knock your socks off. Garlic bread will be ready in ten minutes. You wanna watch Dirty Harry? I already finished my homework.”
And just like that, things were back to normal. Dean wrote off his earlier reaction as a fluke, because this - well, this was just them. Talking about work and school, eating dinner and watching R rated movies like normal brothers. Okay, then.
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At school, things seemed to be changing a bit. His little group of friends was as close as they ever were, but all of a sudden, Melissa was grabbing the seat next to Sam’s at lunch every day, and he was getting winks and sly looks from Chase and Sean. When it started, Sam brushed it off as the overactive imagination of his horny teenage friends. Not that he wasn’t just as horny as they were, he was probably worse because the two of them had actually had sex while Sam had never gotten past second base with a girl. And how did he get lucky enough that he had friends who didn’t make fun of him for that? Hell, even Dean ripped on him for being a virgin every now and then, but other than a few good-natured jokes, they didn’t make him feel bad about it. Nothing was really ever said until one day when Sam was working in the library with Chase on a paper for English class (fucking Beowulf, seriously, every school in the country was required to torture their students with that one, Sam guessed), when Chase asked Sam what he was going to do about Melissa.
“Why do I have to do something about Melissa?” Sam asked, just to stall, because he had no fucking clue what to do.
“Come on, man, you’re the smartest kid I know, don’t tell me you can’t see her little ‘I’ve got a crush on you’ eyes. And she’s hot, you know she’s hot.”
“But what if I ask her out and she says no or something goes horribly wrong and we can’t be friends anymore? Collateral damage, dude. Think about it.” All valid points, but the truth was that though he was certainly attracted to Melissa, there was just something that made it feel not right. Maybe it was the threat to the dynamic of their close little group, or maybe it was some other unnamable thing that Sam just hadn’t figured out yet.
“All I can tell you, Sam, is that you’re not an asshole and she’s not vindictive. See what happens. I really think that if it doesn’t work out, as long as you’re both honest with each other, it’ll be all right.” Then he smirked, raised his eyebrows and added, “Seriously, dude, you should hit that.”
Sam threw his pencil at Chase and the conversation was over.
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Before they knew it, it was closing in on Thanksgiving. Sam would be home from school for a few days, and Dad would (allegedly) be joining them there. Dean prayed to everything he could think of that it would be a peaceful holiday. Apparently their luck was holding out.
John was there with them for four days. The arguing was kept at a bare minimum, and Sam turned out a roasted turkey breast with real mashed potatoes (not from a box of flakes) and that green bean casserole with the fried onion thingies on the top of it for Thanksgiving dinner. He showed his dad some of the projects he’d gotten A’s on at school, and John, bless his fucking heart, told Sam he was proud of him. Later, once Sam was asleep and Dean was sharing a couple of Millers with his dad, John told Dean he was proud of him too.
“You’re a hell of a hunter, Dean, and I hope you don’t ever want to give up on that. But you’re a family man, I always knew that about you. Look at all you’ve taught your brother these past few months. He’s getting to be a man, and damn fine man, too. I can’t tell you I don’t miss having you two along with me on hunts, though, and I’ll be glad to have you boys on my six once we’re all hunting together again.”
Dean didn’t want to think about that, but he didn’t want to argue either, so he just agreed with his dad and settled in to hearing the stories about what kinds of things John had salted and burned with Bobby or Rufus lately. Truth was, Dean did miss hunting, more than he thought he would.
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On the Saturday before Thanksgiving break ended, John got back on the road and Sam asked his brother a kind of insane question.
“Dean, can I borrow your car tonight?”
For a minute, Dean just kind of started at him like he’d grown a second head, but then he evenly responded, “You don’t have a license, dumbass, you’re not taking my baby out for a joyride.”
“I know how to drive, Dean,” Sam replied with just the perfect amount of righteous indignation. “Plus, I won’t be going far. Just thought I’d take Melissa to, like, a movie or something.”
Ohhhhh. Now that might get things moving in the right direction. “The redhead? With the legs? Way to go, Sammy! All right, but you get pulled over and your ass is toast, you got it? And you get her back here by midnight. And by her, I mean the car, not the girl.”
Sam wanted to comment on how it was really evolved that Dean had noticed Melissa wasn’t legless, but he practically beamed at the agreement. “Thanks Dean, you’re the best. And I swear, I won’t even ruin her acoustics with my music.”
Walking out the door with the car keys in his hand a couple of hours later, Dean slipped a condom into the back pocket of Sam’s jeans and said “Go get her, tiger” with a sly grin on his face. Sam thought he saw something else in his brother’s eyes for just a second, concern maybe, probably for the Impala, but it was there and gone before Sam could identify it.
The spectacular lack of planning on Sam’s part was probably what led to the night going the way it did. He picked up Melissa, whose mother poked her head out from the din of running around and giggling in the living room and told them to have a good time before turning her attention back on the younger girls. They drove to the theater and the movie they wanted to see didn’t start for over an hour. Neither of them wanted anything to eat, and there was really not much else to do while they waited. Except for make out in the car.
The first kiss was tentative and slow but that quickly gave way to their tongues eagerly exploring each other’s mouths and necks, Sam’s hand in Melissa’s hair and Melissa’s fingers grasping onto the hem of Sam’s shirt. Fifteen minutes later, they’d both lost their shirts and Sam was pulling little moans of pleasure out of his date as he caressed her nipples over the thin material of her pink bra.
Melissa broke their contact and said “Sam, I’m not a sex on the first date kind of girl usually, but we’re kind of at stop or go time here. I don’t want to push you in either direction, but…”, she eyed the backseat and turned back to Sam. “I don’t really want to stop.”
Sam shivered and wanted so badly to say no, it wasn’t right for them to just fuck in the car without him at least having taken her out a few times, but he was 16 and she was hot and it was her damn idea anyway, so he didn’t say no. He kissed her again, mentally reminding himself to thank Dean for sticking that condom into his back pocket, and they went through the awkward process that accompanies sex in a car - getting their clothes off in a confined space without elbowing each other in the head, climbing into the backseat, finding as comfortable a position as possible.
“I, uh…I haven’t, you know, done this before,” he told her between kisses, not stopping the motion of his hands on every part of her body he could reach. She was so fucking soft, and beautiful, half-sitting against the inside of the driver’s side of the backseat, her head tilted back on the window, sighs of pleasure falling from her lips as Sam sucked at her nipples and moved his hands up and down the insides of her thighs as he knelt between her legs.
“Yeah, I know, but I have a feeling you’ve already figured out how things work,” she responded breathlessly.
All of a sudden, he felt brave, so he moved backwards and just did what he thought he should do. He’d seen enough porn to know what made girls come, and goddamn he wanted to make Melissa come. So he slid two fingers into her and licked at her clit, making himself dizzy as he saw her grab onto the back of the driver’s seat and heard her curse for the first time ever. He figured he was doing it right, so he just kept it up, loving the taste of her, the smell of her pussy, the feeling of her shuddering underneath him and the sound of his name now punctuating her cursing as he moved his tongue and fingers with more speed. For a few seconds, she grew very quiet and still, then he felt her muscles contract against the fingers he had inside of her as she stuttered “S-s-s-am, God, fuck, Sam…”, then made a choked-off and desperate sound he’d certainly never heard in any shitty porno, because it was real. It was fucking real, and he did that, he made this girl moan like that, and he was clearly the king of the entire fucking universe.
Melissa recovered enough to grab Sam by his shoulders and haul him up to eye level. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide, and she simply said “Fuck me, Sam.” With shaking hands, he rolled on the condom, guided her into more of a lying down position, and looked into her eyes as he slid into her, still wet from her orgasm. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as she pushed back against his thrusts, and he’d never imagined it would feel like this. As things just naturally went, though, it didn’t last for long. Sam felt his orgasm building in what he figured was probably a humiliatingly short amount of time, and he shook as she encouraged him by repeating “Yeah, Sam, come on” softly in his ear. The second he came, he was looking right at her and, oh, fuck his ridiculous life, because all he could see was a picture in his mind of his brother smiling at him as he walked out the door that night. His very loud and passionate “Jesus Christ” was a result of the combination of his orgasm, the look on the face of this beautiful girl, and the fact that he’d possibly had an inappropriate thought about Dean while he was losing his virginity in the back seat of the car.
After giving themselves a few minutes to gather themselves and some post-coital lazy kissing, they started getting dressed again. Sam realized that he was still shaking. It was still early, but they were definitely going to miss the movie, so they stayed there, two smart kids who’d been friends for a while and just accidentally ended up fucking. Melissa laughed, and laid her head on Sam’s shoulder. “Well, that was unexpected. But amazing. Thanks.” She smiled up at him. “Hope it was good enough for your first time”, she giggled.
Sam looked down at her and smiled, kissed her forehead, and told her the truth, which was that it was better than he ever thought it would be. “Sorry about the movie, though. I feel bad. I swear I wasn’t looking for a chance to maul you in the car on our first date.”
“So, about that…when you say first date, does that mean you maybe want to take me out on a second date? Because I’m getting a feeling here that you might not be sure about, well, this,” she gestured between them, half dressed and stumbling over awkward post-sex conversation.
At that, Sam completely froze. It hadn’t occurred to him until he’d actually had sex with a girl that maybe there was a reason he’d put it off for so long. He still didn’t know what the reason was, he wasn’t gay and he was attracted to women, so there wasn’t anything glaringly obvious. “Honestly, you’re right. I’m not sure about it. And I can’t figure out why, because you just completely blew my fucking mind, and you’re beautiful, and I like you so much…”
True to character, Melissa didn’t waste any time getting to her point, and she cut him off there. “I have to tell you, Sam, that was fantastic sex, and I’d go for more in a hot second. But you’re my friend, and we’re telling each other the truth because it’s what we do. I’d rather keep you as a friend than risk losing what we’ve already got over something neither of us is really sure we want. Know what I mean?”
Her kindness and honesty were what attracted him to her so much in the first place, and he could have kissed her again right that second if it wouldn’t have given her a mixed signal. “Do you think it’s all right? I mean, do you think we can be how we’ve been, even after this? If I ruined our friendship tonight I’m going to kick myself in the ass for, like, a hundred years.”
“You didn’t ruin anything, you big dork. You’re still you, and I’m still me, and if you tell Chase or Sean that you fucked me in the back seat of your brother’s car over Thanksgiving break, I’ll throttle you to death with my bare hands.”
They both laughed then, genuinely, and climbed back into the front of the car. “You want a cherry limeade?” he asked. Obviously, the answer was yes, so they went for slushies and tots and he dropped her off and headed home, where he would likely spend the entire night awake and trying to figure out what the motherfuck was wrong with him.
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Dean could tell immediately that something was off when Sam got home. There was just absolutely no fucking way that he could stop himself from asking.
“You wanna give me that condom back, bitch? Or was your night better than you expected?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows and leering like a total pervert.
“Believe me, dude, you don’t want that condom back”, Sam responded, smiling slyly and trying to keep the conversation short and very light.
“Score one for Sammy! Hell yeah, man. You want a beer?”
“I’m tired, man, I just want to go to bed.”
Dean knew at this point that for sure something was not right. “Come on, Sam, I’m not going to ask you to give me a play by play. Just thought you might want to celebrate, that’s all.”
The dejected look on Dean’s face must have gotten to Sam, though, because he agreed to have a beer with him. Dean cracked open two bottles of Miller and slid one across the coffee table in front of where Sam was sitting, not looking nearly as happy as a kid who’d just lost his virginity should look.
For good measure, and because he knew it was expected, he said, “Tell me you didn’t fuck in my car, man.”
“We didn’t make a mess, honest. And I’ll clean all the upholstery tomorrow if it’ll make you feel better.”
“Forget it, dude. You’re not exactly looking celebratory. What’s going on in there? Don’t tell me you weren’t good at it. You’ve got my DNA, you have to be good at it.”
Sam laughed. “Yeah, she said I was good at it. I sure as hell felt like I was good at it. But…”
“What? Come on, man, it’s me. Spill.”
//////////////////////////
Sam considered it for a second, took a long pull on his beer, and Dean saw him making his decision. This was his brother. If there was anyone he could tell anything to, regardless of any harmless kidding that might result, Dean was it.
“She’s gorgeous, Dean. And she likes me. And it felt good. Really good. But there was something about it that just didn’t seem right. Maybe because it was our first time going out? Or because we’ve been friends for a while? I don’t fucking know, man. I like her. But not…I don’t like her like that. And that’s stupid. What’s wrong with me?”
Sam figured his confusion and hurt was evident when he saw the look of concern in his brother’s eyes as he spoke. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You said you liked it, right? Maybe it’s her. You like her, but you don’t like her like that, like you said. Nothing wrong with it. Not every guy will just fuck any willing girl, you know.”
“Yeah, maybe. It’s just that there was this…” Oh fuck no, Sam was not going to tell his brother the whole story, “this moment right after where I thought it wasn’t right, that we were friends and we should stay friends. And then I started thinking about why I waited so long to do this in the first place, and whether or not there’s something wrong with me.” He finished his beer and grabbed another, which he gulped down almost all at once. His voice was very, very small but again, this was Dean, he could tell the truth. Almost. “I like girls. I know I do. I really think I do. I always thought I did. But what if I don’t?”
Dean put his hand on his brother’s chin and turned his face so they were eye to eye. “Look, man, if you liked this, and you always liked girls, you probably do. Maybe you like guys too. Maybe you don’t like girls, and you just haven’t figured it out yet, because you’re only 16, and it might turn out that you like dudes. Who gives a shit? You like who you like. But you’re too young to have to figure it out now, all right?”
Sam swallowed, hard, and just nodded, wanting very badly to look away from Dean, because the hand on his chin was making him feel things he didn’t so much want to think about.
“Go on to bed, kid, two is enough for you. And I’m looking over every inch of that car tomorrow, I swear to God.”
Laughing, Sam got up and headed down the hallway. “Thanks, Dean. Good night.”
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Dean sat in silence for a long, long time. He expected to be high-fiving his brother and celebrating him ridding himself of his virginity. He never thought Sam would feel so conflicted. And he certainly never thought he’d have this really uncomfortable ugly feeling about the thought of someone else with their hands all over Sam. He had to do something about this. It wasn’t right, and he couldn’t risk letting his brother find out he was having these thoughts about him. Every bit of the closeness they’d built up over the past few months would disappear if Sam found out Dean was a closet pedophile incestuous pervert. He drank another beer, as if it was going to help him get even a minute of sleep.
////////////////////////////////
School was back in session on Monday and thank every single thing on and off this planet that was good and holy, Melissa was true to her word. She was still Sam’s friend, and didn’t make him feel uncomfortable, and the collateral damage he had mentioned to Chase never happened. He was so fucking grateful that things could just go back to how they’d been this whole time. They ate lunch, studied, went out for slushies, watched movies, and just stayed like they were, a group of kids who liked each other for who they really were.
Several times (not because he was trying to avoid Melissa) Sam tried to make an excuse for skipping their Wednesday afternoon trips to Sonic, and Sean, who must have had ESP or something, goaded him into joining them, making up some kind of celebratory reason for treating everyone that day. I got an A on my trig test! Only two weeks til Chistmas break! (Anything but Shut up, Sam, I’ll pay, I have my own credit card.) For a kid who’d never had to worry about money a day in his life, he seemed to have a direct pipeline into Sam’s effort to try not to spend any unnecessarily, and the courtesy to not make it obvious.
Sam was extraordinarily grateful for this, because he had a whole lot of other things on his mind. The whole “do I like guys” thing, first and foremost. He thought about Chase, remembered the first time he talked to him, thinking he was attractive. For a guy. But he’d never wanted to kiss him. He’d never thought about having any kind of sexual encounter with Chase, or with Sean, or with any of the other guys he knew casually from school.
But since that night with Melissa, he’d thought about Dean in that way more and more often. He spent a whole lot of time and mental effort trying to rationalize and dismiss it, but the truth was there in front of his eyes, and he couldn’t make it go away. It would have been like embracing the “young earth” theory and dismissing evolution because there was less thinking involved in the former and more complication involved in the latter. Sam’s brain didn’t work that way. Maybe Sam wasn’t gay. Or maybe he was. Either way, he had to face the truth. He wanted his brother. And if Dean ever found out, he’d break half of Sam’s bones. At least.
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John wasn’t going to be home for Christmas, but he’d be there shortly before, so they’d decided to celebrate early. This wasn’t the kind of thing they’d done in the past, without a “home base”, so to speak, but things were different this year. Dean took Sam to pick out a tree, a live one that smelled like Christmas, and along with their father, they decorated it and drank eggnog and exchanged small, token gifts. John even let Sam have some of the eggnog (only one glass, but still). They sat together for hours, listening to stories of John’s hunts, of Rufus or Bobby’s antics, and laughed and truly enjoyed each other’s company. Dean thought about how much better their relationship was when John was just a visitor, and felt guilty as hell. Their dad expected that they’d be hunting together again within six months or so.
Not that that was the only thing he had hanging over his head as they celebrated their early Christmas. His lustful feelings for Sam hadn’t gone away, they had only gotten more intense, and he was hopeful that he was only imagining that there were times he’d caught Sam looking at him with a dark expression, narrowed eyes that could easily have been suspicion.
Once John left again, the tree stayed. On Christmas morning, Dean handed Sam a wrapped gift as they sipped their coffee on the sofa, watching the local parade on television. He watched Sam’s face as he marveled at the battered copies of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, his eyes wide and glassy.
“Dean. Jesus, man, these are my favorite books. I only ever got to read them in pieces from school libraries. How did you….”
“I know everything. I’m your big brother. Now they’re yours, and you can read them whenever you want. Just remember, Tom Sawyer, you’re not Huck. That’s me.” He gave his brother a wicked grin and tried to figure out what he was seeing on his face. Sam leaned in close to him, not touching, but looking…so fucking close. Dean froze.
And so did Sam. Just for a second. But then he moved back, reached to the other side of the couch. “I got a present for you too, Huck”, he said, rolling his eyes and handing Dean a box wrapped in newspaper.
Dean had to put honest-to-God effort into holding back tears when he saw the gorgeous liner-lock pocketknife inside the package, the handle engraved with “DW” in some fancy script.
“Sam”, he said, trying the best he could to keep his voice even, “where did you get this? I don’t give you enough spending money…”
Sam shrugged. He’d tried unsuccessfully (due to his friends) to go without cherry limeades and tots and pretty much every single other thing he spent any money on at all for a month, since he’d seen this in a store and decided it would be Dean’s Christmas present.
“Robbed a bank.” he replied casually.
And that was just it. Dean reached across the couch and kissed his brother full on the mouth, then pulled back immediately. “I’m sorry. Sorry. God, Sam, I’m sorry for that, I just - thank you. I love it.” He wasn’t really sure what else to say, because as hard as he tried, it seemed impossible for him to just sink into the floor and disappear.
/////////////////////////////////////
Sam figured his brother would like his present, but he’d never allowed himself to hope for that kind of thank-you. Dean seemed appalled by what he’d done, kissing him that way. But after just half a minute of brain-wheel-turning, he asked Dean why he was sorry.
“Look, I know you’re not a kid, really, not anymore, but you’re still my baby brother. I gotta take care of you, not molest you like some sick fucking perv. I can’t believe you’re even still sitting here.”
“Dean. Look at me.”
Nothing.
“Please?”
Dean looked at him. Sam gathered everything he had, every ounce of courage, and spoke. Dean didn’t know that he prayed, even though he did it every day, but he’d never asked God for a Christmas miracle before that moment.
“Do it again.”
“Do what again?” Dean asked him, knowing exactly what the answer would be, but not understanding why.
“Kiss me again. You didn’t even give me a chance to kiss you back. That’s not exactly fair, is it?”
They stared at each other, just for a moment. But Dean did as his brother asked, and Sam finally, finally, had Dean against his lips, as he held onto Dean’s cheek and opened his mouth so they could kiss for real. The feeling was nothing like kissing any girl he’d ever known, and within three minutes there was no space between them. Sam was practically on this brother’s lap, and he boldly hooked his fingers into the waistband of Dean’s sleep pants, pulling gently but insistently.
Dean pulled back. His voice was thick as he asked Sam if he was sure.
“I’ve never been so sure of anything. Please, Dean.”
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Dean wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak, but he was afraid. What if his brother realized later today that this was a huge mistake and was scarred for life? But one look at Sam told him that was unlikely. His pupils were blown wide with lust and his skin was flushed with desire. He let Sam tug town the sweats he’d slept in and did the same to Sam’s. As many times as he’d pictured this in his head, he’d never thought things would move so fast. They were skin on skin, kissing roughly, Dean fisting at Sam’s long hair to keep his face at the right angle. Suddenly, Sam laid himself down on the couch, pulling Dean on top of him, their erections brushing together and sending electric sparks through them both.
“Please, Dean. I want you. You want me, right?” The look in his eyes was so hopeful.
Dean responded with a lust-wrecked and thick, “Yes, fuck, yes, I want you Sammy.”
“Do it, Dean. Fuck me. I want you to fuck me. Understand?”
That wasn’t something Dean needed to put a lot of thought into. He grabbed the hand lotion from the end table next to the sofa and coated his fingers in it before pressing lightly against Sam’s hole. He gave him a minute to relax before he pushed one finger inside, slowly, earning a deep throaty moan from his brother, and it was only seconds before Sam was pushing back against the touch, clearly wanting more. All right, so Sam hadn’t done this with anyone else, but Dean got the feeling he’d done it alone before, on more than an experimental basis. That only made him feel less guilty about pushing in another finger, then crooking it slightly, hitting Sam’s prostate and seeing his brother jerk up off the sofa with a choked off wail. Dean smiled and kept on going, moving his fingers in and out, adding a third one to make sure Sam was ready.
“Come on, fuck, Dean, just do it, I want you, please…”
The hand lotion came back out again, this time to cover Dean’s cock. “Say it again, Sammy. Tell me this is what you want. I have to be sure.”
“Yes, Christ, yes, it’s what I want, just do it, God, please Dean, fuck me”, Sam panted, holding on to his brother’s shoulders for dear life.
Dean moved Sam’s knees back toward his chest, and he lined up his cock and pushed in just the head, seeing Sam’s eyes roll backward and registering the pain on his face. “Too much, Sam? You want me to stop?”
“NO, no, don’t stop, I’m fine, don’t stop, I want you inside me,” Sam bit Dean on his forearm, hard, “Now.”
Dean pushed in all the way, feeling them flush against each other, and gave Sam a minute to adjust to the feeling. Then he started moving, slowly at first, little thrusts that only made them both want more. Dean had done this to girls before, but Sam had never had a cock in his ass, and he didn’t want to hurt his brother. Sam quickly dispelled any notions Dean had about his fragility when he wrapped his legs around Dean and promised him he wouldn’t break.
Sam met every one of Dean’s thrusts downward with one of this own upward, and cried out with moans and curses and his brother’s name until he got to be completely incoherent and could only moan and pant and whimper. Dean wrapped his hand around Sam’s cock and within minutes it was over, Sam coming all over Dean’s hand and both of their stomachs, and Dean spilling inside of Sam, crying out his name and resting his head on his brother’s chest, completely spent.
They were both in the after-sex immediate sleep zone. Before Dean drifted off, he heard Sam say, “Merry Christmas, Dean.”
////////////////////////////////
Sam still had another week off school. He cooked for his brother, read ahead for the next semester’s assignments, and learned how to suck dick like a pro. It was probably the greatest week of his entire fucking life.
When he got back to school, all his friends talked about were college plans. Sean had family in New Jersey, and Princeton was his first choice, Rutgers was his backup. Melissa didn’t want to venture too far from home, so her list consisted of Duke, UNC - Chapel Hill and UVA as a “safety school”. Chase knew he could get a scholarship and wanted a warm climate, so he was applying to UTA and Arizona State, as well as UNLV.
Sam signed up to take the SAT and started gathering college brochures from the guidance counselor. Harvard and Yale were gold standard, but it was cold there. He was thinking maybe Stanford was the place for him.
~end~