Merry Go Rounds and Burial Grounds Are All The Same To Me (14/?)
Title: Merry Go Rounds and Burial Grounds Are All The Same To Me
Author:whreflections
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Word Count: will probably finish out around 150k or so. At present it’s a 88k WIP, but don’t let that discourage you from starting it because I’ve written that much in a month(this was supposed to a Big Bang that I realized I wouldn’t be able to finish in time. *sigh*), and I’ll be writing on this steadily every day so I’ll stay plenty ahead of where I’m at chapter posting wise and I plan to post every other day. ^^
Word Count for this chapter: 5,741
Genre: Little bit of everything. There’s romance and boys desperately in love and there’s crazy amounts of angst in places and drama and action and family and…just all over the place. But the boys in love thing, that’s the heart. <3
Spoilers: Need to have seen through 5.16
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: After getting back from heaven, Sam feels like he’s hit a dead end. They seem to have finally drifted far enough apart that Dean’s unreachable, and he’s staring down the fact that it’s hard to keep the faith when you’re the only doing it, and that at this point they’re probably screwed no matter what he tries to fix. But if Ash is right then him and his brother are soulmates, and that gives him a little bit of something to hold onto, tells him that what he’s felt for his brother all along might not be so wrong. In a last ditch effort to do the right thing he sells his soul to hell to get Crowley to send him back to 6 years before the apocalypse on the night he left for Stanford, giving him the chance to not only fix his relationship with his brother, but to just maybe fix everything else too. Of course, all that hinges on just how inevitable fate really is, and if he fails, he’ll end up right where Lucifer wants him.
Sorry it was a couple week! T.T Forgive me…and I hope you enjoy this one, cause I really like it.
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“Ready to admit that was too much, yet?”
Dean groaned, curling up tighter on the bathroom floor. “God, lower your voice.”
Sam chuckled, reached over to knead gently at the back of Dean’s neck. “Sorry, Dean.”
“No you’re not. You’re…cruel and…oh, that feels good.” Sam had taken advantage of Dean’s closed eyes to spread a cold washcloth over them, blocking out the glaring light.
“Yeah, I thought it might. So I’m cruel, huh?”
“Nah, you’re awesome.” He tilted his neck just a little more back into Sam’s hand, though from the sound he made he regretted moving immediately. “Fuck, Sam, I haven’t been this hungover since high school.”
“Yeah, I know. Think this is worse, actually.” There wasn’t really all that much to compare to. Dean had only ever been sick twice. The first time dad had helped him through it, though he’d warned that Dean should’ve learned his lesson, and he wouldn’t do it again. The second time Sam had done what he could but he’d been 12 and pretty poorly versed in hangover remedies(though he’d tried checking the internet pretty much right off).
“We’re never drinkin’ Jack again.”
“You say that now.” Sam’s fingers stroked through the soft hair at the base of his neck, slow and easy. “Hey, Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“You remember what we talked about last night?”
“Sort of. I know I was kind of a wreck, and I’m-“
“Don’t do that.” Sam reached over to turn the washcloth to the cooler side, holding his other hand up as a shield to keep blocking out the light while he turned it. “ ‘M glad I got home before you passed out, actually, because I think we needed to talk, and I think there’s plenty more of it we need to do once you’re over this.”
“Sounds fantastic. We gonna write a book next?” Except Sam could hear the honesty under the sarcasm, and he could see the way that even in as much pain as he was, the lines on his face eased to be just a little less prominent. Yeah, they definitely needed to talk.
“Oh and uh…Bobby knows.”
There was just a little too much silence, enough that he knew Dean was figuring it out, and he could see his skin go just a little paler. He’d thought getting this one over early and quick would be better but maybe-
“Bobby knows what, Sam?”
“Ah…about us. He knows.”
That was enough to get him moving. Or at least enough to have him up and leaning over the toilet again, somehow managing to heave up a little more despite how many times he’d already done this that morning. Sam reached out to him, hand squeezing gently at his shoulder.
“Dean, it’s ok. Really.”
“Why are we still here? We should go, we should-“ He sounded tired and a little worried and disappointed, yeah, but he didn’t sound ashamed and Sam couldn’t help but be grateful for that. Even as crazy as this thing was between them, Dean had never acted ashamed of him, not once, and he could’ve never put into words exactly how much that meant.
“Dean, literally, it’s ok!” Really, he could still hardly believe it himself so he wasn’t surprised Dean’s first thought would’ve been getting the hell out. “He’s not mad. He’s ok.”
“He’s what?! God…” He tried to look at Sam but apparently the room was still spinning because he leaned back over the bowl, dry heaving.
“Yeah, I don’t know he’s…he’s known for awhile. And he said he’s not really surprised and that it’s our business and it’d be pointless to be mad…I don’t know, man. I was just as shocked as you.” He shrugged, settling back against the tub again and letting his hand slide down Dean’s back. “I mean, I wouldn’t like, shove it in his face or anything-“
“No shit, really?”
“-but I think we don’t need to worry about it anymore. Not really anyway.” Not that he was planning on kissing Dean in front of him anytime soon or anything like that, but it was nice to know that if Dean was hurt and he wanted to keep him close, he wouldn’t be breaking everything out in the open if he did.
Dean let out a shaky breath, leaned his forehead against his arm thrown across the seat. “Please tell me that’s all we needed to talk about.”
Not hardly. “Ah, no. There’s a lot more actually. But it can wait till this afternoon.”
Dean raised his right hand to flip Sam off, groaning when Sam’s laughter echoed off the bathroom walls.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Sam shoved the cup of coffee into Dean’s hands, forcing him to hold onto it. “Drink up.”
Dean groaned, pushing the cup to the side so he could stretch out across the table, head resting on his arm. “We really gotta do this now? The room’s still spinning, man. I mean, I saw like, three of you a minute ago.”
“Well, I’m sorry. But yeah, think we need to do this now.” Because if he put it off, he’d just talk himself out of it again. He pulled out the kitchen chair closest to Dean’s, spun it around and sat down on it backwards, his arms crossed across the top wooden rung. “So…I’m just gonna say this all really fast, and it’s gonna sound-“
“Sam, nothing you could possibly tell me at this point is gonna sound crazy, ok? So just get to it, and then I’m goin’ back to bed.”
“I need to you to take this seriously.”
“Well then I need to not be having this conversation when I’ve got the hangover from hell.”
“Dean…”
Dean sighed, sat up muttering his hands rubbing over his eyes. “Ok. Ok, I’m up, I’m listening, this is important, I got it.” And maybe he did, because he wrapped his hands around the coffee mug and pulled it to his lips for a sip, only shuddering a little. Sam reached over to the counter and snagged one of the packs of crackers he’d dug out of the glove box, tossing it at Dean across the table.
“Here. Eat something, it’ll help.” Theoretically, at least, but he probably wasn’t gonna feel like eating after Sam was finished. “So ah…you know I have demon blood.”
“Sam, that doesn’t mean anything. You can’t be gettin’ hung up on-“
“Wait, Dean…just let me do this, ok? There’s…there’s stuff you don’t know.”
“Yeah, isn’t there always.” He grimaced, took another sip of coffee and looked away, and Sam’s heart fell just a little further in his chest. He scooted his chair closer, reaching out and tapping the table to get Dean’s attention.
“Hey. Look at me.” Fuck, he looked tired. If Sam had had any faith in his ability to not change his mind, he’d have agreed that now wasn’t the best time for this. As it was, though, his faith in his own resolve to let Dean help him was running pretty low. “That’s why I’m doing this, alright? I’m gonna tell you everything now. You’ll know as much as I do. Or at least, everything important, we can get to the details later.”
Dean nodded, and Sam moved on.
“Alright. So ah…what do you know about the 66 seals?”
“I dunno, I’m guessing we’re not talking about a show at Sea World, here.” His voice was still soft and scratchy from wear and exhaustion but the sarcasm shone right through and Sam couldn’t help but laugh.
“No. No, definitely not. It’s from the book of Revelation, and it refers to these…these seals, these locks that have to be broken before the devil can be released from his cage.”
“Well doesn’t that sound wonderful.”
“Yeah.” He really wished he could’ve avoided going any farther, just stopping right there and… “There’s hundreds of them, but there’s only 66 that need to be broken before he can rise.” That one he wasn’t touching with a 10 foot pole. He’d be alright with telling Dean that he killed Lilith in that church and brought hell on earth, but there was nothing that could make him tell Dean what he himself had done in hell. Not for anything in the world. The less he knew about hell altogether, the better. “Anyway, Lucifer, he’s an angel. He rises, and he needs to claim his vessel…remember what I told you about angels and vessels?”
“Yeah. Something to do with the bloodline or something, they take some poor sap, use him up until they’re done and then maybe he lives or maybe he’s fucked, depending.” Sometimes, Sam still wondered what had become of Jimmy Novak. That was how that whole conversation had come up in the first place, anyway. He’d been telling Dean about Cas, and naturally the conversation had drifted around to vessels and the fact that even Cas wasn’t innocent. Which really only made him fit into the family just that much more.
“Yeah. Like that.” Fuck it. “I’m Lucifer’s vessel, Dean.” He took advantage of his shock, pushed right ahead. “And…you’re Michael’s. The archangel Michael.” Just like he’d thought he could see it, the panic in Dean’s eyes, just how far he was in over his head, and Sam hated himself for it.
Dean leaned forward, face in his hands, his words muffled. “Jesus Christ, Sam.”
“I know.”
He still hadn’t taken his hands away. “So this is it? We’re puppets, the world ends, that’s how it goes down?”
“No. That’s exactly how it’s not gonna go down, because for them to get a hold of us, they have to have our consent.”
Dean let his hands drops, his eyebrows rising. “Wait, seriously? They’ve gotta ask us and if we say no-“
“Then they’re outta luck.”
“Well that’s easy then. We just tell ‘em to fuck off and-“
“It’s harder than it sounds.” Or at least, apparently it was harder than it sounded. Personally, he’d never been tempted for a second to say yes. That didn’t mean he couldn’t understand, though. Dean had been desperate, down to his last straw. Things always looked different when you were hopeless.
“Don’t tell me we agreed to that.”
“Not quite.” Here, too, he needed to tell the whole truth. “But, I think you were about to. That’s kinda part of the reason I’m here.”
Out of everything he’d said so far, it was obvious that affected Dean the most. His walls slammed down, his eyes cold, and he pushed the chair back and went to the sink, leaning over it with hunched shoulders. Sam was on his own feet almost as fast, ready to follow him.
“Dean,-“
“What’s the rest?” His voice was frighteningly calm, no tremor. Sam would have felt better if he’d sounded less alright.
“Well…the other big thing I was gonna tell you isn’t really related. Not directly at least, but it’s pretty major and I told you last night-“
“What is it, Sam?”
Sam leaned across the counter, trying to get close enough to see Dean’s face. It didn’t exactly work, but he could catch enough in the reflection to see that his eyes were shut.
“I’m gonna disappear, some time at the end of April. I’m gonna vanish, and Azazel is gonna have taken me to Cold Oak, South Dakota. Dean, I’m gonna be fine, and maybe even save a couple people in the process if I’m lucky, but I’m gonna need you to meet me there.” And over his dead body would things happen the way they did before. Or, rather, over Jake’s dead body. He wasn’t about to let Dean see him die like that, not again. Besides, he had too much left to do to be going downstairs just yet.
“Alright.” Dean’s calm was starting to seriously scare him.
He reached into his pocket for the map he’d swiped out of Bobby’s library earlier, and he spread it out across the counter, the rustle drawing Dean over. “You see this part of Wyoming, right here?” Dean nodded, and Sam trailed his finger over the rails. “These old railroad lines were laid by Samuel Colt, and they make a devil’s trap around an old cowboy cemetery in the middle. There’s a gate to hell there, and Azazel wants one of the children he gave his blood to to take the Colt and open it. So…” He took a deep breath, already hating the thought of the words. This was the hardest part. “That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” He held his hand up, cutting off the startled sound Dean had made. “For a couple reasons.”
He smoothed his hands across the map, hands fitting against the corners. It was hard not to look as guilty as he felt, and he wasn’t anywhere near sure he pulled it off. “When this happened before, Jake opened the gate. And out of all the massive amounts of demons that got out…dad got out too. And I’m not leavin’ him there.” Not for anything. Not that that had been an easy decision to come to. Opening the gate brought massive demon problems and death for a lot of people, but the longer he’d deliberated, he’d realized he was always coming back to the same conclusion. When it came down to choosing someone he loved or the world, he’d choose the person he loved, every time. Even if it meant terrible things, there was no way he’d leave his father to rot in hell. “And, you know you asked me about the demon who holds my contract? Well she’s downstairs, and this is the way she gets up here. So lookin’ at it like that…we don’t really have a choice.”
Of course they did. There was always a choice. He just happened to know that no matter how wrong it was(and it was pretty damn wrong, all things considered), Dean would be willing to make the same choice. Of course, Sam couldn’t help but feel that if he wasn’t already going to hell this would clench it, but he could still hope that maybe that wasn’t the case.
“I’ll do it.”
Sam’s head jerked up to look at Dean, his head still bowed over the map. “What? No, Dean-“
“Yes.” When he looked up, Sam could see the determination in him, pure desperation. “Sam, this is all my fault. Everything I did before, if I hadn’t-“
“No, Dean, you-“
“Don’t, Sam. Don’t.” It was the tone he’d used when he’d already more than made up his mind. “This is all my fault, and on top of that, I’m the reason dad’s down there anyway. I should be the one to get him out.” He shifted forward, his finger tapping the center of the map over the cemetery. “Now you said you wanted to do this together. Well, that means not carryin’ all the weight yourself, Sammy, and this is part of that. I can do this. I need to do this.”
Of course he did. In Dean’s eyes, he could never punish himself enough, and taking this on himself probably seemed like much less punishment than he deserved. Sam didn’t want to let him, because he couldn’t have agreed less. He’d been the one to fuck up, for the most part, and a lot of blood already rested on his hands. A little more couldn’t possibly hurt him, at this point. Still, Dean was right, if only on one count. They really did need to do this together, and that meant letting Dean shoulder some of the weight, even when Sam wished he didn’t have to.
Sam nodded, slow. “Ok. Yeah.”
Somehow, the deep breath Dean took seemed relieved, like he really had needed it, needed to know that he was going to have to take some of this on himself. Times like that, Sam would’ve given nearly anything to really be able to see into his head.
“Dean, this isn’t your fault, man. Things just got crazy and I knew what I had to do, that’s all. I’m not sorry, and I know I did the right thing.”
Dean laughed, short and sharp, and he shook his head. “Sam, you don’t understand. It was my job to stop you, to make sure we found another way, and if I wasn’t doing that, then this is my fault. Simple as that.”
“We’d tried. We were still trying, but Dean, you’d been through a lot; you don’t understand.”
“No, you’re right. I don’t.” His voice rose, real anger breaking through and Sam was honestly glad for it, because this was healthier than keeping it all buried in his chest, festering and swirling around in the back of his mind. “I don’t understand what the hell was wrong with me that I let my brother sell his soul when I was right there, I don’t understand how you couldn’t change my mind, I don’t understand why you didn’t try, why you didn’t-“
“Because you hated me!” There. He’d finally said it. He hadn’t even realized he’d wanted to say it anymore, wanted to talk about that time since it was already over and long gone and this Dean couldn’t understand, but thinking about it again all the emotion had risen right back up under the surface, and it hurt now as much as it had back then.
Dean slammed his fist against the counter, moving around to the edge of it to circle around and come closer to Sam. “Oh please, what’re you, four? I didn’t hate you, Sam; I could never hate you! I was…I don’t know, dammit, but I was probably fucked up and-“
“You threw it away.” Yes, he realized he wasn’t making sense all the way, but now that this conversation was started he couldn’t really keep his mouth shut.
“…what?”
“This.” He pushed against Dean’s chest, his fingers curling around the amulet briefly before he let it drop to swing back heavily against his shirt again. “You threw it away. And you’d…” Damn, he was getting choked up just remembering. He could still feel it, still feel the scars he’d never lose from every fight they’d had that year, from the words Dean had said. “You’d told me before that things could never be the same between us again. And I’d kept hoping, I’d kept trying, I tried everything to get you to forgive me, but every time I thought we were actually getting somewhere nothing ever panned out, and then you threw it away, and I was right there. How the hell else am I supposed to take that?”
“Sam…” He was looking him over, something Sam couldn’t all the way read in his eyes, though he could tell there was fear. For a second he seemed almost ready to back away, but he changed his mind somewhere in the movement and stepped forward instead, almost right up against Sam’s chest. “That everything you wanted to say to me, Sam? Or is there more? Cause I get the feelin’ you’ve been carrying that around for a long time.”
Jesus, he felt like shit. Dean was already hurting, had already been through far too much to have to be dealing with this, too. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right. Everything that had happened before, the Dean he faced now had never done those things and Sam couldn’t imagine that he ever would. Confronting him with it now was just cruel and stupid, and he already wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“Dean, I’m sorry.”
“You’re wrong, you know. I don’t care what I did….well, that’s not true. I can’t believe I did that, said those things, but you know what, you’re right. I can’t understand, because I’m not there, but when I was? I can tell you for damn sure that I didn’t hate you, because it’s not possible. I might’ve been pissed, and I might’ve been fucked up and scared for you and for both of us, but I didn’t hate you. And if you’d really called me on it, I’m pretty sure you’d have found that out.”
Sam was pretty sure he was wrong, but he was tired of fighting about it just now. He was tired of fighting altogether, actually. “Can we not talk about this anymore? I’m sorry I said…I don’t wanna fight.” Especially when this wasn’t even the one he should’ve had that fight with.
For a second, he thought Dean was going to push the subject and make him keep going, but he nodded slowly, letting it drop, and he reached up and pulled Sam down for a kiss.
“Can tell you one thing, Sammy. That’s not gonna happen this time around, ok? I promise.”
No matter what else in this life that had managed to go wrong anyway, that was something Sam absolutely believed.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
“Ohhhh yes! Jackpot!”
Sam groaned, and Dean turned the radio up ear splittingly loud, the sounds of Queen reverberating through the car. When he’d begged Dean to listen to the radio for awhile, he’d just been hoping for something other than the Bad Company tape they’d been listening to for the past 200 miles, but now he’d have been willing to stick the tape back in.
Dean threw his arm across the back of the seat and settled in, singing loudly along. “Sammy was low, just watching the show-“
“Dean.”
“-over and over again.”
“Dean...”
“What?” He slid closer, his arm wrapping around Sam’s shoulders, lips nearly against his ear to be heard over the music. “This is an awesome song.”
“It was, until you wouldn’t stop singing it at me when were kids; that kinda ruined it.”
“Can’t ruin the classics, Sammy.” Sam could hear Dean’s smile, and it was just a little bit harder to stay annoyed. The past few weeks, Dean had been doing better. He wasn’t sure if it was getting everything out in the open that had helped or if he’d finally gotten through to Dean that whatever happened they were gonna be alright, but whatever it was he was grateful for it. He’d been just a little easier with Sam lately, a little of the worried tension gone from his eyes, and that was exactly what Sam wanted. Dean didn’t need to worry, not about him. He could take care of that himself.
He broke out singing again, his head tilting back. “Sammy, who do you think that you are,-“
Happy Dean or not, after hearing it about 500 times as a kid there was only so much of that damn song he could take. He reached out and turned the radio off, slapping Dean’s hand back when Dean tried to turn it back on.
“Dean, I hate that song.”
“You’re no fun, you know that?” Dean sighed dramatically, rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder rather than sliding back over onto his side of the seat. “God, I swear this part of Nebraska’s one of the most boring stretches of highway ever.”
“Yeah, probably.” He could feel Dean’s breath against his neck, soft and even, and Dean’s left hand was toying with a fraying edge to his sleeve where his arm was slung over Sam’s shoulders. It was getting distracting and he squirmed, shifting his grip on the wheel. “Can you move? I kinda need to drive, Dean.”
“What, is this a problem for you?” Dean’s voice was teasing, warm with amusement.
Shit. “I’m driving.”
“I can see that.” Dean’s lips brushed against his jaw, and he tucked his head in a little closer and sucked at Sam’s neck, swirling his tongue over the area where the blood rose under his skin. Dean turned his head enough to look down, and Sam’s hands tightened hard on the wheel at the low moan that slipped from his throat. “Sammy…you have any idea how hot that is? Jesus, Sam…” He didn’t look down, but he could imagine why Dean liked what he saw. He could feel himself already at least half hard, pushing up against the front of his jeans. Dean’s right hand moved to the inside of his thigh, rubbing slow and teasing, and Sam couldn’t help the way his hips jerked just a little, trying to get Dean’s hand where he really wanted it. Dean squeezed gently, thumb rubbing over the seam. “I dunno…I probably shouldn’t. You pitched a hissy fit about the music; I’m not sure you deserve it.”
His hand slid closer and Sam’s breath quickened, his jeans feeling suddenly painfully tight. “You shouldn’t. Driving.”
“Like I said, you’re no fun. Which is why…” His hand slid up a little higher, cupping over the bulge in Sam’s pants. Sam jerked, his foot pressing down just a little harder on the gas. “ ‘M gonna make you enjoy yourself a little.”
“Dean-“
“Shh.” Dean rubbed at him through his jeans, slow and insistent. “There’s seriously something wrong with you, by the way. I would’ve sworn there wasn’t a guy on the planet that’d complain about getting a blow job while he was driving but hey, that just proves what I’ve always said about you, Sammy. Too vanilla for your own good.”
“ ‘M not vanilla.” Of course, it was hard to sound annoyed at the accusation when Dean was moving around on the seat beside him, maneuvering to get himself down half stretched out on the seat half in the floorboard.
“What’s the last kinky thing you did? Cause I sure can’t remember it.”
Well, that depended on the definition of kink. Most people probably would’ve agreed that fucking his brother was kinky in and of itself, but since he wasn’t doing it because Dean was his brother, that had ceased to really register in his head a long time ago. “We…” Fuck it, it wasn’t gonna work. Even if there was something(and he was pretty sure they’d done something at least a little unusual not too long ago), he couldn’t think of it right now. Driving while Dean had his mouth on him was gonna be nearly impossible enough, he certainly wouldn’t be able to think during all of that.
Dean had unzipped his jeans and worked him out of his boxers, and he first closed his lips just around the head and sucked, light and teasing. Sam threw his left hand out to grip the door, and he swore under his breath, his hips already working up into his mouth despite Dean’s hand trying to hold him down.
Dean’s lips stretched just a little wider around him, head bobbing as he took him in a little farther. Dean’s tongue pressed flat against the underside, pulling back after to suckle at the moisture that’d drawn. Dean moaned around him at the taste, and Sam shifted the wheel into his left hand, needing to touch so badly it was a desperate physical need.
Even knowing how badly he’d wanted to get a hand on his brother, the shock of pleasure that jolted through him when his hand cupped behind Dean’s head startled him, and he moaned, hunching just a little forward in the seat as his fingers tightened in Dean’s hair. God, he loved this. Dean’s mouth was unbelievable, searing wet heat made even better by the fact that he knew what to do with it. Better still was the way Dean looked at him, his pupils wide with eager hunger, irises dark with desire and the connection ever present between them.
Right now, he couldn’t let himself look down to see it. The road was mercifully empty ahead, but he still kept his eyes glued to it, glancing only every now and then down to make sure he wasn’t speeding too ridiculously. Last thing he wanted was to get pulled over like this. He stroked against the back of Dean’s neck, thumb kneading at the muscle, feeling it contract as Dean’s head bobbed over him. He could feel the spit slick slide, even more noticeable in the cool air against damp skin when he pulled back. Dean seemed to take him deeper as he went, until finally he was bumping just against the back of his throat, feeling Dean swallow against the intrusion.
He whispered Dean’s name, started to pant when Dean moaned in response. His foot jerked just a little against the accelerator and he forced some of his attention back to the road, to the way he was weaving in his lane. In another minute Dean pulled off of him, breathing hard.
“Dude, will you hurry up already? I mean, normally I wouldn’t complain but this is uncomfortable as hell and my neck is killin’ me, so would you just come already?”
Sam laughed, short and trailing off into another, softer sound as Dean’s breath chilled damp skin. “Come here, Dean.”
“You sure? Cause I mean, I got another minute or so, but if you-“
“Just come here.” As incredible as Dean’s mouth felt, his nerves over ‘holy shit this is a bad idea’ kept his mind just enough on the road that it was hard to focus. He was getting there, yeah, but it was still gonna take a minute, though he was pretty sure it’d take less with Dean talking to him than it would otherwise.
Dean obliged, scooting up and first cracking his neck, wincing as he rolled his shoulders. He was quick about it, though, and he wrapped himself back around Sam again, arm slung over his shoulders, his right hand going to Sam’s lap to curl around his length. He squeezed, careful but still demanding Sam’s attention, his lips hovering next to Sam’s ear.
“You know, I’m kind of offended you couldn’t stop thinking about the damn road long enough to get off. And to think I thought I taught you priorities.”
“You did, you-oh God, Dean…” He was working him over, quick and just a little rough, and he reached down and into Sam’s boxers to cup his balls, feeling their weight against his palm. “The car.”
“Hm?” Dean’s thumb rubbed against the base, and he hummed low and satisfied when he felt Sam twitch.
“Priorities. Car comes first.”
He could feel Dean’s laugh, and at the scrape of stubble against his skin Sam almost gave in and turned his head for a kiss.
“Car’s pretty high up there, that’s true. Course, you could always pull over.” Dean’s teeth caught on his earlobe, nipping lightly. “You know how much I love it when you fuck me on the hood, right? Like that time outside of Tampa on that gravel road, the way you had your hand on my back, that was so good, Sam.”
God, Dean could talk dirty like no one he’d ever heard, and he always knew exactly what it’d effect him most to hear. His voice was pure lust, all low and rough, and somehow he still managed to sound open and honest at the same time. Not to mention the fact that he could go from teasing him to seducing him in about five seconds. Sam groaned, his nails digging into the underside of the wheel. He could still remember exactly what Dean was talkin’ about, how they’d both been so hungry for it he’d bent Dean over the hood, hand pressing between his shoulder blades as he fucked him hard, listening to him cry out, the feel of Dean’s muscles flexing under Sam’s hand.
“Yeah, I thought so. So fuckin’ good, Sammy…no, don’t.” He’d been about to do it, give in and pull over, but Dean’s hand left his cock and went to Sam’s wrist, nudging him to stay on the road. “Don’t. Not right now. Lemme do this.” He brought his palm back up, and hearing the wet sound of him licking it was almost hotter without the visual because he knew it was there, just out of sight, and his heart pounded just a little harder. When Dean’s hand wrapped around him again he stroked him just a little faster, his wrist twisting expertly. “C’mon, Sammy. C’mon.”
Maybe it was the fact that there were things Dean typically said only during sex, maybe it was the fact that he’d been hearing and loving that voice his whole life, but there was something about Dean’s voice in his ear that always helped push him over the edge.
His cock pulsed in Dean’s grip and he came, his hands tightening so hard on the wheel his arms shook for a second or two. Dean’s breath hitched, and he nuzzled against Sam to press a soft, wet kiss to the side of his throat.
Dean pulled away after that, reaching over into the glove box for a couple fast food napkins that he used to sort of clean up. Sam was pretty sure he was gonna have to change his shirt, too, but all things considered, that wasn’t really too much of a pain. He hadn’t run off the road or gotten arrested and that had felt damn good, and if Dean really wanted to turn the radio back on now and sing as loud as he wanted, Sam couldn’t’ve had it in him to object no matter what the song was.
“Pull over.”
“What?” He glanced over to find Dean watching him, his eyes dark and appreciative. “So…what happened to, ‘right now, I want this’, huh?”
“Yeah, well…I did! For you. But I mean, c’mon, Sammy, I’ve got needs too y’ know and I really don’t think you should be takin’ care of that while you’re driving…” He caught Dean’s smirk out of the corner of his eye, Dean’s own hand rubbing slow at the front of his jeans. “Cause, you know, that’s just not safe.”
“…I hate you.”
“Ah, I know you do.” He heard the sound of Dean’s zipper, followed by a muffled moan. “But you’re gonna pull over anyway.”
“You know, I can’t fuck you right now. So if that’s what you wanted, you kind of screwed yourself over, Dean.” Although, if Dean kept making that noise, it wouldn’t be too long before he could probably manage. His dick was already twitching, trying feebly to take interest.
“Technically, I didn’t, since-“
“Just shut up.”
As if there was ever a chance he wasn’t gonna pull over, regardless. He almost skidded off onto the gravel, a cloud of dust rising up behind the car.
When he growled and jerked Dean’s wrist away from his crotch Dean laughed, and he was pretty sure that something along these lines had been Dean’s plan all along.
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Master post is here.
Author:whreflections
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Sam/Dean
Word Count: will probably finish out around 150k or so. At present it’s a 88k WIP, but don’t let that discourage you from starting it because I’ve written that much in a month(this was supposed to a Big Bang that I realized I wouldn’t be able to finish in time. *sigh*), and I’ll be writing on this steadily every day so I’ll stay plenty ahead of where I’m at chapter posting wise and I plan to post every other day. ^^
Word Count for this chapter: 5,741
Genre: Little bit of everything. There’s romance and boys desperately in love and there’s crazy amounts of angst in places and drama and action and family and…just all over the place. But the boys in love thing, that’s the heart. <3
Spoilers: Need to have seen through 5.16
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: After getting back from heaven, Sam feels like he’s hit a dead end. They seem to have finally drifted far enough apart that Dean’s unreachable, and he’s staring down the fact that it’s hard to keep the faith when you’re the only doing it, and that at this point they’re probably screwed no matter what he tries to fix. But if Ash is right then him and his brother are soulmates, and that gives him a little bit of something to hold onto, tells him that what he’s felt for his brother all along might not be so wrong. In a last ditch effort to do the right thing he sells his soul to hell to get Crowley to send him back to 6 years before the apocalypse on the night he left for Stanford, giving him the chance to not only fix his relationship with his brother, but to just maybe fix everything else too. Of course, all that hinges on just how inevitable fate really is, and if he fails, he’ll end up right where Lucifer wants him.
Sorry it was a couple week! T.T Forgive me…and I hope you enjoy this one, cause I really like it.
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“Ready to admit that was too much, yet?”
Dean groaned, curling up tighter on the bathroom floor. “God, lower your voice.”
Sam chuckled, reached over to knead gently at the back of Dean’s neck. “Sorry, Dean.”
“No you’re not. You’re…cruel and…oh, that feels good.” Sam had taken advantage of Dean’s closed eyes to spread a cold washcloth over them, blocking out the glaring light.
“Yeah, I thought it might. So I’m cruel, huh?”
“Nah, you’re awesome.” He tilted his neck just a little more back into Sam’s hand, though from the sound he made he regretted moving immediately. “Fuck, Sam, I haven’t been this hungover since high school.”
“Yeah, I know. Think this is worse, actually.” There wasn’t really all that much to compare to. Dean had only ever been sick twice. The first time dad had helped him through it, though he’d warned that Dean should’ve learned his lesson, and he wouldn’t do it again. The second time Sam had done what he could but he’d been 12 and pretty poorly versed in hangover remedies(though he’d tried checking the internet pretty much right off).
“We’re never drinkin’ Jack again.”
“You say that now.” Sam’s fingers stroked through the soft hair at the base of his neck, slow and easy. “Hey, Dean?”
“Yeah?”
“You remember what we talked about last night?”
“Sort of. I know I was kind of a wreck, and I’m-“
“Don’t do that.” Sam reached over to turn the washcloth to the cooler side, holding his other hand up as a shield to keep blocking out the light while he turned it. “ ‘M glad I got home before you passed out, actually, because I think we needed to talk, and I think there’s plenty more of it we need to do once you’re over this.”
“Sounds fantastic. We gonna write a book next?” Except Sam could hear the honesty under the sarcasm, and he could see the way that even in as much pain as he was, the lines on his face eased to be just a little less prominent. Yeah, they definitely needed to talk.
“Oh and uh…Bobby knows.”
There was just a little too much silence, enough that he knew Dean was figuring it out, and he could see his skin go just a little paler. He’d thought getting this one over early and quick would be better but maybe-
“Bobby knows what, Sam?”
“Ah…about us. He knows.”
That was enough to get him moving. Or at least enough to have him up and leaning over the toilet again, somehow managing to heave up a little more despite how many times he’d already done this that morning. Sam reached out to him, hand squeezing gently at his shoulder.
“Dean, it’s ok. Really.”
“Why are we still here? We should go, we should-“ He sounded tired and a little worried and disappointed, yeah, but he didn’t sound ashamed and Sam couldn’t help but be grateful for that. Even as crazy as this thing was between them, Dean had never acted ashamed of him, not once, and he could’ve never put into words exactly how much that meant.
“Dean, literally, it’s ok!” Really, he could still hardly believe it himself so he wasn’t surprised Dean’s first thought would’ve been getting the hell out. “He’s not mad. He’s ok.”
“He’s what?! God…” He tried to look at Sam but apparently the room was still spinning because he leaned back over the bowl, dry heaving.
“Yeah, I don’t know he’s…he’s known for awhile. And he said he’s not really surprised and that it’s our business and it’d be pointless to be mad…I don’t know, man. I was just as shocked as you.” He shrugged, settling back against the tub again and letting his hand slide down Dean’s back. “I mean, I wouldn’t like, shove it in his face or anything-“
“No shit, really?”
“-but I think we don’t need to worry about it anymore. Not really anyway.” Not that he was planning on kissing Dean in front of him anytime soon or anything like that, but it was nice to know that if Dean was hurt and he wanted to keep him close, he wouldn’t be breaking everything out in the open if he did.
Dean let out a shaky breath, leaned his forehead against his arm thrown across the seat. “Please tell me that’s all we needed to talk about.”
Not hardly. “Ah, no. There’s a lot more actually. But it can wait till this afternoon.”
Dean raised his right hand to flip Sam off, groaning when Sam’s laughter echoed off the bathroom walls.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Sam shoved the cup of coffee into Dean’s hands, forcing him to hold onto it. “Drink up.”
Dean groaned, pushing the cup to the side so he could stretch out across the table, head resting on his arm. “We really gotta do this now? The room’s still spinning, man. I mean, I saw like, three of you a minute ago.”
“Well, I’m sorry. But yeah, think we need to do this now.” Because if he put it off, he’d just talk himself out of it again. He pulled out the kitchen chair closest to Dean’s, spun it around and sat down on it backwards, his arms crossed across the top wooden rung. “So…I’m just gonna say this all really fast, and it’s gonna sound-“
“Sam, nothing you could possibly tell me at this point is gonna sound crazy, ok? So just get to it, and then I’m goin’ back to bed.”
“I need to you to take this seriously.”
“Well then I need to not be having this conversation when I’ve got the hangover from hell.”
“Dean…”
Dean sighed, sat up muttering his hands rubbing over his eyes. “Ok. Ok, I’m up, I’m listening, this is important, I got it.” And maybe he did, because he wrapped his hands around the coffee mug and pulled it to his lips for a sip, only shuddering a little. Sam reached over to the counter and snagged one of the packs of crackers he’d dug out of the glove box, tossing it at Dean across the table.
“Here. Eat something, it’ll help.” Theoretically, at least, but he probably wasn’t gonna feel like eating after Sam was finished. “So ah…you know I have demon blood.”
“Sam, that doesn’t mean anything. You can’t be gettin’ hung up on-“
“Wait, Dean…just let me do this, ok? There’s…there’s stuff you don’t know.”
“Yeah, isn’t there always.” He grimaced, took another sip of coffee and looked away, and Sam’s heart fell just a little further in his chest. He scooted his chair closer, reaching out and tapping the table to get Dean’s attention.
“Hey. Look at me.” Fuck, he looked tired. If Sam had had any faith in his ability to not change his mind, he’d have agreed that now wasn’t the best time for this. As it was, though, his faith in his own resolve to let Dean help him was running pretty low. “That’s why I’m doing this, alright? I’m gonna tell you everything now. You’ll know as much as I do. Or at least, everything important, we can get to the details later.”
Dean nodded, and Sam moved on.
“Alright. So ah…what do you know about the 66 seals?”
“I dunno, I’m guessing we’re not talking about a show at Sea World, here.” His voice was still soft and scratchy from wear and exhaustion but the sarcasm shone right through and Sam couldn’t help but laugh.
“No. No, definitely not. It’s from the book of Revelation, and it refers to these…these seals, these locks that have to be broken before the devil can be released from his cage.”
“Well doesn’t that sound wonderful.”
“Yeah.” He really wished he could’ve avoided going any farther, just stopping right there and… “There’s hundreds of them, but there’s only 66 that need to be broken before he can rise.” That one he wasn’t touching with a 10 foot pole. He’d be alright with telling Dean that he killed Lilith in that church and brought hell on earth, but there was nothing that could make him tell Dean what he himself had done in hell. Not for anything in the world. The less he knew about hell altogether, the better. “Anyway, Lucifer, he’s an angel. He rises, and he needs to claim his vessel…remember what I told you about angels and vessels?”
“Yeah. Something to do with the bloodline or something, they take some poor sap, use him up until they’re done and then maybe he lives or maybe he’s fucked, depending.” Sometimes, Sam still wondered what had become of Jimmy Novak. That was how that whole conversation had come up in the first place, anyway. He’d been telling Dean about Cas, and naturally the conversation had drifted around to vessels and the fact that even Cas wasn’t innocent. Which really only made him fit into the family just that much more.
“Yeah. Like that.” Fuck it. “I’m Lucifer’s vessel, Dean.” He took advantage of his shock, pushed right ahead. “And…you’re Michael’s. The archangel Michael.” Just like he’d thought he could see it, the panic in Dean’s eyes, just how far he was in over his head, and Sam hated himself for it.
Dean leaned forward, face in his hands, his words muffled. “Jesus Christ, Sam.”
“I know.”
He still hadn’t taken his hands away. “So this is it? We’re puppets, the world ends, that’s how it goes down?”
“No. That’s exactly how it’s not gonna go down, because for them to get a hold of us, they have to have our consent.”
Dean let his hands drops, his eyebrows rising. “Wait, seriously? They’ve gotta ask us and if we say no-“
“Then they’re outta luck.”
“Well that’s easy then. We just tell ‘em to fuck off and-“
“It’s harder than it sounds.” Or at least, apparently it was harder than it sounded. Personally, he’d never been tempted for a second to say yes. That didn’t mean he couldn’t understand, though. Dean had been desperate, down to his last straw. Things always looked different when you were hopeless.
“Don’t tell me we agreed to that.”
“Not quite.” Here, too, he needed to tell the whole truth. “But, I think you were about to. That’s kinda part of the reason I’m here.”
Out of everything he’d said so far, it was obvious that affected Dean the most. His walls slammed down, his eyes cold, and he pushed the chair back and went to the sink, leaning over it with hunched shoulders. Sam was on his own feet almost as fast, ready to follow him.
“Dean,-“
“What’s the rest?” His voice was frighteningly calm, no tremor. Sam would have felt better if he’d sounded less alright.
“Well…the other big thing I was gonna tell you isn’t really related. Not directly at least, but it’s pretty major and I told you last night-“
“What is it, Sam?”
Sam leaned across the counter, trying to get close enough to see Dean’s face. It didn’t exactly work, but he could catch enough in the reflection to see that his eyes were shut.
“I’m gonna disappear, some time at the end of April. I’m gonna vanish, and Azazel is gonna have taken me to Cold Oak, South Dakota. Dean, I’m gonna be fine, and maybe even save a couple people in the process if I’m lucky, but I’m gonna need you to meet me there.” And over his dead body would things happen the way they did before. Or, rather, over Jake’s dead body. He wasn’t about to let Dean see him die like that, not again. Besides, he had too much left to do to be going downstairs just yet.
“Alright.” Dean’s calm was starting to seriously scare him.
He reached into his pocket for the map he’d swiped out of Bobby’s library earlier, and he spread it out across the counter, the rustle drawing Dean over. “You see this part of Wyoming, right here?” Dean nodded, and Sam trailed his finger over the rails. “These old railroad lines were laid by Samuel Colt, and they make a devil’s trap around an old cowboy cemetery in the middle. There’s a gate to hell there, and Azazel wants one of the children he gave his blood to to take the Colt and open it. So…” He took a deep breath, already hating the thought of the words. This was the hardest part. “That’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” He held his hand up, cutting off the startled sound Dean had made. “For a couple reasons.”
He smoothed his hands across the map, hands fitting against the corners. It was hard not to look as guilty as he felt, and he wasn’t anywhere near sure he pulled it off. “When this happened before, Jake opened the gate. And out of all the massive amounts of demons that got out…dad got out too. And I’m not leavin’ him there.” Not for anything. Not that that had been an easy decision to come to. Opening the gate brought massive demon problems and death for a lot of people, but the longer he’d deliberated, he’d realized he was always coming back to the same conclusion. When it came down to choosing someone he loved or the world, he’d choose the person he loved, every time. Even if it meant terrible things, there was no way he’d leave his father to rot in hell. “And, you know you asked me about the demon who holds my contract? Well she’s downstairs, and this is the way she gets up here. So lookin’ at it like that…we don’t really have a choice.”
Of course they did. There was always a choice. He just happened to know that no matter how wrong it was(and it was pretty damn wrong, all things considered), Dean would be willing to make the same choice. Of course, Sam couldn’t help but feel that if he wasn’t already going to hell this would clench it, but he could still hope that maybe that wasn’t the case.
“I’ll do it.”
Sam’s head jerked up to look at Dean, his head still bowed over the map. “What? No, Dean-“
“Yes.” When he looked up, Sam could see the determination in him, pure desperation. “Sam, this is all my fault. Everything I did before, if I hadn’t-“
“No, Dean, you-“
“Don’t, Sam. Don’t.” It was the tone he’d used when he’d already more than made up his mind. “This is all my fault, and on top of that, I’m the reason dad’s down there anyway. I should be the one to get him out.” He shifted forward, his finger tapping the center of the map over the cemetery. “Now you said you wanted to do this together. Well, that means not carryin’ all the weight yourself, Sammy, and this is part of that. I can do this. I need to do this.”
Of course he did. In Dean’s eyes, he could never punish himself enough, and taking this on himself probably seemed like much less punishment than he deserved. Sam didn’t want to let him, because he couldn’t have agreed less. He’d been the one to fuck up, for the most part, and a lot of blood already rested on his hands. A little more couldn’t possibly hurt him, at this point. Still, Dean was right, if only on one count. They really did need to do this together, and that meant letting Dean shoulder some of the weight, even when Sam wished he didn’t have to.
Sam nodded, slow. “Ok. Yeah.”
Somehow, the deep breath Dean took seemed relieved, like he really had needed it, needed to know that he was going to have to take some of this on himself. Times like that, Sam would’ve given nearly anything to really be able to see into his head.
“Dean, this isn’t your fault, man. Things just got crazy and I knew what I had to do, that’s all. I’m not sorry, and I know I did the right thing.”
Dean laughed, short and sharp, and he shook his head. “Sam, you don’t understand. It was my job to stop you, to make sure we found another way, and if I wasn’t doing that, then this is my fault. Simple as that.”
“We’d tried. We were still trying, but Dean, you’d been through a lot; you don’t understand.”
“No, you’re right. I don’t.” His voice rose, real anger breaking through and Sam was honestly glad for it, because this was healthier than keeping it all buried in his chest, festering and swirling around in the back of his mind. “I don’t understand what the hell was wrong with me that I let my brother sell his soul when I was right there, I don’t understand how you couldn’t change my mind, I don’t understand why you didn’t try, why you didn’t-“
“Because you hated me!” There. He’d finally said it. He hadn’t even realized he’d wanted to say it anymore, wanted to talk about that time since it was already over and long gone and this Dean couldn’t understand, but thinking about it again all the emotion had risen right back up under the surface, and it hurt now as much as it had back then.
Dean slammed his fist against the counter, moving around to the edge of it to circle around and come closer to Sam. “Oh please, what’re you, four? I didn’t hate you, Sam; I could never hate you! I was…I don’t know, dammit, but I was probably fucked up and-“
“You threw it away.” Yes, he realized he wasn’t making sense all the way, but now that this conversation was started he couldn’t really keep his mouth shut.
“…what?”
“This.” He pushed against Dean’s chest, his fingers curling around the amulet briefly before he let it drop to swing back heavily against his shirt again. “You threw it away. And you’d…” Damn, he was getting choked up just remembering. He could still feel it, still feel the scars he’d never lose from every fight they’d had that year, from the words Dean had said. “You’d told me before that things could never be the same between us again. And I’d kept hoping, I’d kept trying, I tried everything to get you to forgive me, but every time I thought we were actually getting somewhere nothing ever panned out, and then you threw it away, and I was right there. How the hell else am I supposed to take that?”
“Sam…” He was looking him over, something Sam couldn’t all the way read in his eyes, though he could tell there was fear. For a second he seemed almost ready to back away, but he changed his mind somewhere in the movement and stepped forward instead, almost right up against Sam’s chest. “That everything you wanted to say to me, Sam? Or is there more? Cause I get the feelin’ you’ve been carrying that around for a long time.”
Jesus, he felt like shit. Dean was already hurting, had already been through far too much to have to be dealing with this, too. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right. Everything that had happened before, the Dean he faced now had never done those things and Sam couldn’t imagine that he ever would. Confronting him with it now was just cruel and stupid, and he already wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“Dean, I’m sorry.”
“You’re wrong, you know. I don’t care what I did….well, that’s not true. I can’t believe I did that, said those things, but you know what, you’re right. I can’t understand, because I’m not there, but when I was? I can tell you for damn sure that I didn’t hate you, because it’s not possible. I might’ve been pissed, and I might’ve been fucked up and scared for you and for both of us, but I didn’t hate you. And if you’d really called me on it, I’m pretty sure you’d have found that out.”
Sam was pretty sure he was wrong, but he was tired of fighting about it just now. He was tired of fighting altogether, actually. “Can we not talk about this anymore? I’m sorry I said…I don’t wanna fight.” Especially when this wasn’t even the one he should’ve had that fight with.
For a second, he thought Dean was going to push the subject and make him keep going, but he nodded slowly, letting it drop, and he reached up and pulled Sam down for a kiss.
“Can tell you one thing, Sammy. That’s not gonna happen this time around, ok? I promise.”
No matter what else in this life that had managed to go wrong anyway, that was something Sam absolutely believed.
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
“Ohhhh yes! Jackpot!”
Sam groaned, and Dean turned the radio up ear splittingly loud, the sounds of Queen reverberating through the car. When he’d begged Dean to listen to the radio for awhile, he’d just been hoping for something other than the Bad Company tape they’d been listening to for the past 200 miles, but now he’d have been willing to stick the tape back in.
Dean threw his arm across the back of the seat and settled in, singing loudly along. “Sammy was low, just watching the show-“
“Dean.”
“-over and over again.”
“Dean...”
“What?” He slid closer, his arm wrapping around Sam’s shoulders, lips nearly against his ear to be heard over the music. “This is an awesome song.”
“It was, until you wouldn’t stop singing it at me when were kids; that kinda ruined it.”
“Can’t ruin the classics, Sammy.” Sam could hear Dean’s smile, and it was just a little bit harder to stay annoyed. The past few weeks, Dean had been doing better. He wasn’t sure if it was getting everything out in the open that had helped or if he’d finally gotten through to Dean that whatever happened they were gonna be alright, but whatever it was he was grateful for it. He’d been just a little easier with Sam lately, a little of the worried tension gone from his eyes, and that was exactly what Sam wanted. Dean didn’t need to worry, not about him. He could take care of that himself.
He broke out singing again, his head tilting back. “Sammy, who do you think that you are,-“
Happy Dean or not, after hearing it about 500 times as a kid there was only so much of that damn song he could take. He reached out and turned the radio off, slapping Dean’s hand back when Dean tried to turn it back on.
“Dean, I hate that song.”
“You’re no fun, you know that?” Dean sighed dramatically, rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder rather than sliding back over onto his side of the seat. “God, I swear this part of Nebraska’s one of the most boring stretches of highway ever.”
“Yeah, probably.” He could feel Dean’s breath against his neck, soft and even, and Dean’s left hand was toying with a fraying edge to his sleeve where his arm was slung over Sam’s shoulders. It was getting distracting and he squirmed, shifting his grip on the wheel. “Can you move? I kinda need to drive, Dean.”
“What, is this a problem for you?” Dean’s voice was teasing, warm with amusement.
Shit. “I’m driving.”
“I can see that.” Dean’s lips brushed against his jaw, and he tucked his head in a little closer and sucked at Sam’s neck, swirling his tongue over the area where the blood rose under his skin. Dean turned his head enough to look down, and Sam’s hands tightened hard on the wheel at the low moan that slipped from his throat. “Sammy…you have any idea how hot that is? Jesus, Sam…” He didn’t look down, but he could imagine why Dean liked what he saw. He could feel himself already at least half hard, pushing up against the front of his jeans. Dean’s right hand moved to the inside of his thigh, rubbing slow and teasing, and Sam couldn’t help the way his hips jerked just a little, trying to get Dean’s hand where he really wanted it. Dean squeezed gently, thumb rubbing over the seam. “I dunno…I probably shouldn’t. You pitched a hissy fit about the music; I’m not sure you deserve it.”
His hand slid closer and Sam’s breath quickened, his jeans feeling suddenly painfully tight. “You shouldn’t. Driving.”
“Like I said, you’re no fun. Which is why…” His hand slid up a little higher, cupping over the bulge in Sam’s pants. Sam jerked, his foot pressing down just a little harder on the gas. “ ‘M gonna make you enjoy yourself a little.”
“Dean-“
“Shh.” Dean rubbed at him through his jeans, slow and insistent. “There’s seriously something wrong with you, by the way. I would’ve sworn there wasn’t a guy on the planet that’d complain about getting a blow job while he was driving but hey, that just proves what I’ve always said about you, Sammy. Too vanilla for your own good.”
“ ‘M not vanilla.” Of course, it was hard to sound annoyed at the accusation when Dean was moving around on the seat beside him, maneuvering to get himself down half stretched out on the seat half in the floorboard.
“What’s the last kinky thing you did? Cause I sure can’t remember it.”
Well, that depended on the definition of kink. Most people probably would’ve agreed that fucking his brother was kinky in and of itself, but since he wasn’t doing it because Dean was his brother, that had ceased to really register in his head a long time ago. “We…” Fuck it, it wasn’t gonna work. Even if there was something(and he was pretty sure they’d done something at least a little unusual not too long ago), he couldn’t think of it right now. Driving while Dean had his mouth on him was gonna be nearly impossible enough, he certainly wouldn’t be able to think during all of that.
Dean had unzipped his jeans and worked him out of his boxers, and he first closed his lips just around the head and sucked, light and teasing. Sam threw his left hand out to grip the door, and he swore under his breath, his hips already working up into his mouth despite Dean’s hand trying to hold him down.
Dean’s lips stretched just a little wider around him, head bobbing as he took him in a little farther. Dean’s tongue pressed flat against the underside, pulling back after to suckle at the moisture that’d drawn. Dean moaned around him at the taste, and Sam shifted the wheel into his left hand, needing to touch so badly it was a desperate physical need.
Even knowing how badly he’d wanted to get a hand on his brother, the shock of pleasure that jolted through him when his hand cupped behind Dean’s head startled him, and he moaned, hunching just a little forward in the seat as his fingers tightened in Dean’s hair. God, he loved this. Dean’s mouth was unbelievable, searing wet heat made even better by the fact that he knew what to do with it. Better still was the way Dean looked at him, his pupils wide with eager hunger, irises dark with desire and the connection ever present between them.
Right now, he couldn’t let himself look down to see it. The road was mercifully empty ahead, but he still kept his eyes glued to it, glancing only every now and then down to make sure he wasn’t speeding too ridiculously. Last thing he wanted was to get pulled over like this. He stroked against the back of Dean’s neck, thumb kneading at the muscle, feeling it contract as Dean’s head bobbed over him. He could feel the spit slick slide, even more noticeable in the cool air against damp skin when he pulled back. Dean seemed to take him deeper as he went, until finally he was bumping just against the back of his throat, feeling Dean swallow against the intrusion.
He whispered Dean’s name, started to pant when Dean moaned in response. His foot jerked just a little against the accelerator and he forced some of his attention back to the road, to the way he was weaving in his lane. In another minute Dean pulled off of him, breathing hard.
“Dude, will you hurry up already? I mean, normally I wouldn’t complain but this is uncomfortable as hell and my neck is killin’ me, so would you just come already?”
Sam laughed, short and trailing off into another, softer sound as Dean’s breath chilled damp skin. “Come here, Dean.”
“You sure? Cause I mean, I got another minute or so, but if you-“
“Just come here.” As incredible as Dean’s mouth felt, his nerves over ‘holy shit this is a bad idea’ kept his mind just enough on the road that it was hard to focus. He was getting there, yeah, but it was still gonna take a minute, though he was pretty sure it’d take less with Dean talking to him than it would otherwise.
Dean obliged, scooting up and first cracking his neck, wincing as he rolled his shoulders. He was quick about it, though, and he wrapped himself back around Sam again, arm slung over his shoulders, his right hand going to Sam’s lap to curl around his length. He squeezed, careful but still demanding Sam’s attention, his lips hovering next to Sam’s ear.
“You know, I’m kind of offended you couldn’t stop thinking about the damn road long enough to get off. And to think I thought I taught you priorities.”
“You did, you-oh God, Dean…” He was working him over, quick and just a little rough, and he reached down and into Sam’s boxers to cup his balls, feeling their weight against his palm. “The car.”
“Hm?” Dean’s thumb rubbed against the base, and he hummed low and satisfied when he felt Sam twitch.
“Priorities. Car comes first.”
He could feel Dean’s laugh, and at the scrape of stubble against his skin Sam almost gave in and turned his head for a kiss.
“Car’s pretty high up there, that’s true. Course, you could always pull over.” Dean’s teeth caught on his earlobe, nipping lightly. “You know how much I love it when you fuck me on the hood, right? Like that time outside of Tampa on that gravel road, the way you had your hand on my back, that was so good, Sam.”
God, Dean could talk dirty like no one he’d ever heard, and he always knew exactly what it’d effect him most to hear. His voice was pure lust, all low and rough, and somehow he still managed to sound open and honest at the same time. Not to mention the fact that he could go from teasing him to seducing him in about five seconds. Sam groaned, his nails digging into the underside of the wheel. He could still remember exactly what Dean was talkin’ about, how they’d both been so hungry for it he’d bent Dean over the hood, hand pressing between his shoulder blades as he fucked him hard, listening to him cry out, the feel of Dean’s muscles flexing under Sam’s hand.
“Yeah, I thought so. So fuckin’ good, Sammy…no, don’t.” He’d been about to do it, give in and pull over, but Dean’s hand left his cock and went to Sam’s wrist, nudging him to stay on the road. “Don’t. Not right now. Lemme do this.” He brought his palm back up, and hearing the wet sound of him licking it was almost hotter without the visual because he knew it was there, just out of sight, and his heart pounded just a little harder. When Dean’s hand wrapped around him again he stroked him just a little faster, his wrist twisting expertly. “C’mon, Sammy. C’mon.”
Maybe it was the fact that there were things Dean typically said only during sex, maybe it was the fact that he’d been hearing and loving that voice his whole life, but there was something about Dean’s voice in his ear that always helped push him over the edge.
His cock pulsed in Dean’s grip and he came, his hands tightening so hard on the wheel his arms shook for a second or two. Dean’s breath hitched, and he nuzzled against Sam to press a soft, wet kiss to the side of his throat.
Dean pulled away after that, reaching over into the glove box for a couple fast food napkins that he used to sort of clean up. Sam was pretty sure he was gonna have to change his shirt, too, but all things considered, that wasn’t really too much of a pain. He hadn’t run off the road or gotten arrested and that had felt damn good, and if Dean really wanted to turn the radio back on now and sing as loud as he wanted, Sam couldn’t’ve had it in him to object no matter what the song was.
“Pull over.”
“What?” He glanced over to find Dean watching him, his eyes dark and appreciative. “So…what happened to, ‘right now, I want this’, huh?”
“Yeah, well…I did! For you. But I mean, c’mon, Sammy, I’ve got needs too y’ know and I really don’t think you should be takin’ care of that while you’re driving…” He caught Dean’s smirk out of the corner of his eye, Dean’s own hand rubbing slow at the front of his jeans. “Cause, you know, that’s just not safe.”
“…I hate you.”
“Ah, I know you do.” He heard the sound of Dean’s zipper, followed by a muffled moan. “But you’re gonna pull over anyway.”
“You know, I can’t fuck you right now. So if that’s what you wanted, you kind of screwed yourself over, Dean.” Although, if Dean kept making that noise, it wouldn’t be too long before he could probably manage. His dick was already twitching, trying feebly to take interest.
“Technically, I didn’t, since-“
“Just shut up.”
As if there was ever a chance he wasn’t gonna pull over, regardless. He almost skidded off onto the gravel, a cloud of dust rising up behind the car.
When he growled and jerked Dean’s wrist away from his crotch Dean laughed, and he was pretty sure that something along these lines had been Dean’s plan all along.
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Master post is here.