FIC: A Priori, part 3
Title: A Priori, part 3
Author: memphis86
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 17,672 overall, 6,504 this part
Part 1|| Part 2||Part 3|| Epilogue & Notes
It's weeks and weeks of this, them sneaking around like it's some tawdry affair. Another night of mind-blowing sex, another motel room and David wakes up suddenly. The light from the window spills in blue and gray. Yellow light from the cars as they move past, sliding along the walls and over his body. He turns to look at Dean, and he's up as well. Dean smiles at him and the sides of his eyes crinkle. David licks his lips and moves closer.
"I love you." He whispers. Dean doesn't move and his smile drops. David clears his throat.
"Dean? I know you-"
Dean sits up and grabs his shirt, he's muttering under his breath. David can't hear what he's saying but Dean's making for the door, so David sits up and throws on clothes.
It's misting with warm rain, Dean is sitting on the stoop of the motel, letting his legs stretch out in front of him, tapping his good one in the mud.
"I should go."
"Go, where?" David closes the door to the room slightly and stands to the side, leaning against the wall.
Dean looks over his shoulder, but not at him directly, he's staring off to the side. "I can't," he scrunches his face tight, "I should've never come back after the first time. I should leave you alone and I- fuck!" He slams his fist against the ground. David jumps a little.
Dean's rubbing his face against his hand and finally turns to look at him. "I tried, I really did. I kept telling myself I could do it. That every time I saw you, was the last time."
"Dean…" David rolls the words around his head, choosing them carefully. "This is about who I was before, right? I told you I don't care about the past anymore. But I understand if-"
"David,"
"If whatever I did was so bad that you can't love me because of it--I get it. Just tell me you can't, and I'll back off…" Dean's standing up and his hands are on his face, rubbing away the tears he didn't realize were there. David sits back down with Dean on the stoop, Dean's hands still on his shoulders.
"Listen to me David. I'm going to try and say this right, okay?" Dean visibly steels himself and stares hard at David, squeezing his arms tight.
"Whatever happened back then, it doesn't matter. You're right to want to move on with your life. But you need to know this: Nothing you've done, or could do will ever, ever, change the way I feel about you. It didn't, and I'm stuck like this now. I can't leave you, I keep coming back because I… Damn it." Dean trails off.
"This is really hard, alright? This will never be easy for me."
David licks his lips, "It's not easy for me-"
"You said it! You can say it and I… I can't."
David's face softens as he realizes, "But you want to." Dean looks away.
David pulls Dean close and buries his face in Dean's shoulder. He doesn't want Dean to see it, but he can't help smiling.
Dean loves him.
***
They're eating at some roadside diner the next day, David's idea. Dean is wolfing down pancake after pancake. David is grinning like a loon.
"Will you quit it?!" Dean snaps but his mouth is full so it comes out mushy. David snickers.
Dean swallows. "I'm serious,"
"You love me."
"David…"
"You're my lover."
Dean doesn't have enough resolve to tell him no, or to tell him shut up. He just pokes at his food with his fork and pouts.
"Dean, c'mon."
Dean mumbles something and David prods. "What was that?"
"I know."
"You know what?"
"I know that, we're, that thing you said."
David laughs.
"You are such a pain." Dean groans and dumps more syrup on his plate.
***
David wants to smack Dean really hard, but he's too busy making sure Dean keeps his arm. It was a cut first, but now it's a big purple abscess because Dean is really stupid sometimes and doesn't clean his wounds properly.
"You're really stupid sometimes."
"Thanks."
"I'm serious! Now we have to get you to a doctor and get antibiotics before you go fucking septic, Dean! And guess who gets the distinct pleasure of cleaning, and squeezing as much pus from your wound until then?"
"I thought you monks liked tending to the sores of us lepers?"
David grabs him by the hair and pulls him close. "I am. Not. A monk. I am your boyfriend whether you use the word or not, and guess what? I actually give a damn about what happens to you! So you're gonna sit there, and let me yell at you as penance for making me worry and giving me heart attacks on a regular basis."
"Didn't know I was that good in bed-"
"Dean!"
"Okay, okay. Breathe, David. Let it out."
"I don't get it, you've been doing this your whole life and yet, you still forget the fucking number one rule of being a some badass-evil-killing-hero. Don't forget to lick your wounds clean, otherwise they get infected and you'll die of--I dunno, zombie poisoning. And-"
David is cut off by a loud crash followed by a yell. "What was that?"
"I don't know," Dean reaches into his bag and pulls out a square device. It's beeping and ticking like crazy, and he raises his eyebrows. "David, stay here."
"Dean, what's going on?" Dean hops off the table and grabs a shotgun out of his bag, cocks it.
"Whatever you do, don't move. Just stay right here unless I call-"
"Like hell I will," David stands up. "Dean you're hurt. You need me to cover you-"
"No! You're not coming-"
Father Priam throws open the doors, he's white as a sheet. "He's back! The Cardinal is back! He has Brother Anthony!"
"Sonavabitch!" Dean grabs his rocksalt rounds and marches forward. David follows him behind Father Priam.
"Who's the Cardinal?"
"I thought you got rid of him?!" Father Priam ignores David.
"Yeah, I know. Guess not."
"Why would he attack now?" Father Priam wrings his hands.
"I don't know! Where is he?"
"In the inner sanctum-"
"Stay here with David! Do not let him follow me!"
Father Priam stands in front of the door. David bounces on his feet, hearing gunshots and cursing and he can't help it. He needs to know Dean is okay. Father Priam tries to explain who the Cardinal is; the spirit of a serial killer who went after high-ranking members of the clergy. He was hung in the churchyard in the 17th century. He appears in the robes of a Cardinal, because it symbolizes the people he blames for his death. Dean met Father Anthony and Father Priam protecting them from the Cardinal the first time.
"And now, it seems our little exorcism didn't work." Father Priam concludes.
David hears a loud shot followed by Dean yelling and a thump on the ground. He can't stand it anymore and he pushes Father Priam aside and charges in. The gun is on the ground, just a few inches from him and there's a spectre hovering over Dean, pushing his whispy hands into Dean's chest, and Dean is screaming. Father Anthony is next to him, holding his chest and looking pale.
David dives for the shotgun, cocks it and points it at the ghost. "Get away from him!"
The spirit turns and releases Dean, and David shoots but he's swooping towards him. Father Anthony cries out in a weak voice, "His neck! Aim for the amulet!"
David shoots him in the dead center of the cross around his neck, and the spirit makes a terrible sound, David has to cover his ears. There's wind and it's so cold for one minute, and then the next everything is back to normal. David runs to Dean first who smacks him away and mumbles "Father Tony's 'lright?" Father Priam bursts in and David goes to the old man.
***
Father Anthony dies on the way to the hospital from a heart attack.
Father Priam prays in his room and David and Dean stay up all night drinking and commiserating on the couch. They trade their favorite Father Anthony stories.
It's some ungodly hour in the morning when Dean says into his cup, "I think 'm gonna retire."
"Bed's right up there," David angles his head.
"Nah, I think I'm," Dean pauses, "I think I'm done."
David moves closer to Dean, throws an arm around his shoulders.
"I've got to stop, y'know? While I still have something." While I still have you, he doesn't say.
David smiles, "Ahhh, you love me."
"Run away with me? Let's just go somewhere, just get the hell out of here and try somewhere new."
"Yeah?"
"You can finish school."
"I'm only two weeks away from my paralegal certification."
"Yeah, you do that first and then we'll-"
"We'll go somewhere new."
"Somewhere nice, somewhere safe."
"Let's go to California, Dean."
"Why California?"
"You said you found me in California. I wanna go back there. Where it all started."
Dean drops his head and clicks his tongue a few times. It's kinda annoying, but David is buzzed and it's four a.m. Nothing matters at four a.m.
"You don't wanna go back there, we're not living in the past. California is the past David, and we're-" Dean nods his head and turns to him, "We're moving forward. We're moving to the future, and we're going to New York."
"New York?"
"New York is the opposite of California. New York is the future. Our future."
"How is New York the opposite of California? Texas would be the opposite-"
"No, Texas is the opposite of New York."
"Wait, 'm confused."
"New York, David! Big city and bright lights. Millions of people to blend in with, be perfectly anonymous. Be a fresh start. Be big apples on little trees…"
"You're drunk…" David drifts off and Dean eventually wrangles both of them to bed.
In afternoon, when they wake up and their hangovers fade, it's decided that they're running away to New York City.
***
The thing about Father Anthony being gone, is that Father Priam no longer hides his contempt for Dean through a mask of politeness. He practically sneers at Dean lying on David's bed, laughing and drinking a beer.
Father Priam crooks his index finger at David and leads him away from his room, where he's been busy boxing up his books. He walks down to Father Anthony's office.
"Brother Anthony wanted you to have something before you left."
"He thought I was leaving?"
"He always knew you would, someday. When you found yourself again."
"Like, if I got my memories back?"
"No David, he knew that you didn't want to remember what happened to bring you here. He knew that buried beneath your pain, your soul was healing. That you'd be the person you were before, the person free of suffering and evil. A purified soul."
David bites back a caustic remark about how Father Priam's vision of a purified soul probably wasn't fucking another man.
Father Priam reaches into the desk, and hands David an envelope. There's a sizeable check made out to him inside. David's eyes go wide.
"I can't accept this-"
"He wanted you to have it, he'd been saving since you arrived. For two years he saved when he could. Please do not refuse a dead man's final gift to you."
Father Priam really could lay on the guilt when he wanted to. David flipped the check over in his hands nervously, eventually muttering a thank you. Father Priam sits back in the chair and nods.
David fidgets under the man's gaze and then finally asks, "Father Priam, I know you don't talk much about it, but I just wanted to know. You said back there that Dean came here because of the Cardinal. How did you know to call him? Did he just show up?"
Father Priam shook his head, "No, Father Anthony knew Dean's father. Well, he knew of Dean's father. Another man of God, Pastor James, was a good friend of John Winchester. When we contacted John, we received a message that lead us to Dean."
"So this Pastor, he knows Dean? Can I talk to him?"
"I'm afraid not, he's been dead quite a while."
David bows his head in silence. They sit in Father Anthony's office together for a few minutes. Quietly praying and mourning their dead. David stands up, and Father Priam follows and holds out his hand. David walks around Father Anthony's desk and embraces the man. Father Priam stiffens in his arms, but then returns the affection by quickly patting his back.
"Thank you for everything, Father."
"Good luck, David."
***
David begins to get interviews and calls from the firms he applied for. That's when he realizes they can't stall any longer and it's time to make the trek to New York.
The Impala is packed, for someone leading a fairly ascetic life, David has a lot more stuff then he realized. Dean's things are minimal though, not counting the contents of the trunk.
They stay in a motel in New Jersey, and then drive to New York to look for an apartment. Brooklyn seems like a good enough place to start.
The realtor's office is full of posters with pictures and prices next to them. David and Dean point at the ones they like, and she smiles and makes notes.
"You know, Brooklyn really is great. It's a true melting pot; there's this theory that every American has a relative that's lived in Brooklyn-so we're all connected to Brooklyn somehow! What about you boys?"
"What about what?" Dean crooks an eyebrow.
"You have any family in Brooklyn?"
"Nah," Dean shakes his head and David just shrugs. The realtor taps her pen.
"Where are you from, again?"
"California." David smiles.
"Kansas." Dean coughs.
She's obviously trying to prod them into more then one-word answers but gives up after Dean starts flat-out ignoring her. David jabs him in the side and whispers to him to be nice.
***
David hadn't really realized how quickly Dean could turn on the charm.
He's flirting like crazy with the realtor, and David has to bite his tongue really hard and tell himself it's all to get her to cut her fees as much as possible. There's always a deal to be had.
It's the fourth, or maybe fifth apartment they've seen. The neighborhood is quiet and full of families. Not too far from the subway and a bus, but with a garage for the Impala. It's got high ceilings and it comes with a partially furnished living room and an orange kitchen. The walls are white and the carpet is blue in places, and David pulls Dean aside. He's leaning on the formica countertop, taking some weight off his leg.
"I think this is it."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Wanna be sure?"
David nods and they leave with the realtor. They let her lead them to two more houses when Dean turns to David. "Well?"
"Yeah, it was the place. With the formica and the blue carpets and the garage."
The realtor giggles nervously.
"You're sure?"
"Dean, it's the only place I remember today. I'm sure."
The realtor is fumbling around with her papers, "Oh! If you don't remember let me show you-"
Dean puts up a hand and flashes his brightest smile. "No need, can I have a minute?" They walk out to the driveway.
David doesn't know how he does it, maybe he feeds her some sob story about his bum leg and his boyfriend's scrambled brains. Maybe he tells her some secret realtor code word that he learned. But the deal they get? Is ridiculous.
She smiles as they sign the lease and winks at Dean. Dean winks back and David loops his arm around Dean's and squeezes him tight.
***
They move in about a week later, collecting furniture in the meantime and arranging deliveries. Dean does most of it, David's been too busy going back and forth with firms before accepting a position as a paralegal with the district attorney's office. He could make more money in private practice, but there's something about the position that intrigues him more. Maybe it's knowing he's helping people, even the ones who can't afford to pay someone $1,000 an hour.
Dean doesn't have to work but he does anyway. He comes home one day covered in grease and beams at David.
"You got a job at a garage." David says before he has a chance.
"How'd you know?"
"I'm psychic." David drawls. Dean gives him a funny look and grabs a beer.
"What can I say? When you roll up in a car like mine, it says to people: 'Look at me! If I can take care of an automobile as fine as this one, think of what I can do for your shitty car!'"
David laughs and wraps his arms around Dean.
"Look at us, we're a two-income family."
"Yeah…"
David bites his lip. "You're not gonna freak out on me if things get too 'domestic', are you?"
"No, you?"
"Because I know you're used to being off on your own, like some kind of nomadic-"
"I like domestic." Dean kisses him. "I like this house, I like this neighborhood. I like the linoleum on the floor and I like it when dinner isn't from a convenience store or a diner. I like knowing where I'm sleeping every night, and I like having somewhere to be in the morning. And I'll kill you if you repeat this; but okay, I like spooning and reading the newspaper on Sunday. If it means I gotta vacuum and water plants and clean the garage and be a responsible adult about it, then fine."
David doesn't really know what to say or do other then kiss him back.
"Besides, the company isn't half bad. If you wanna go all Suzy Homemaker on me, go right ahead. Make me dinner and fetch my slippers."
"Fetch your own damn slippers!" David laughs and breaks the embrace to dig around the fridge. "And don't call me Suzy."
Dean chuckles and sits at the kitchen table. "So how was work, Suzanne?"
David smacks him on the back of the head but answers. "It was actually really cool. Everyone I work with is really nice and they're letting me help plan the Christmas party, even though I'm new."
Dean's eyes brighten, "There's a Christmas party?"
David scrunches his face a little, and lets out a small laugh. "Yeah, of course there is… You've never been to one, have you?"
Dean swallows his beer and shakes his head.
"Wow. You really do like all this normal, domestic stuff?"
"Always want what you never had."
David feels warm inside, like he could give Dean the life he's never had.
"So, you wanna be my date? To the Christmas party?"
"Well I have to think about it, check my calendar, see what everybody else is doing and- yes. Yes, I do. Will they have cookies?"
David laughs and leans in to kiss Dean, "Oh yeah, lots of cookies."
The kiss doesn't end and the kitchen table becomes the first piece of furniture (other then the bed) they besmirch with unspeakable sexual acts. At least that's what David thinks to himself. The truth is it's just a big grope-fest on the table, which leads to Dean's hand in his pants and then sparks behind his eye.
Dean goes to shower the grease and oil off from work, and David orders Chinese food. They eat it on the living room floor with the TV on, then wrap themselves in blankets on the couch. Dean's head on his chest as he drifts in and out feels like home.
***
Dean has taken over the formica countertop in the kitchen as his personal perch. He likes to sit there and eat or just talk to David. David likes to sit at the kitchen table like a normal person, but he doesn't say anything. He thinks Dean prefers keeping his leg off the ground when he's relaxing.
Dean's just sitting there one day, a jar of Greek olives between his legs, eating and telling David about work
David's walking around the kitchen, putting away the dishes; he walks by Dean and does a double-take. "Huh."
"Huh, what?" Dean says, mouth shiny and full of olive.
David grabs a butter knife from a drawer and holds it horizontally against his forehead and faces Dean. "Sit up straight, ha! I thought so."
"Whuh?"
David steps closer and touches his nose to Dean's, "We're perfectly," He rubs Dean's nose with his. "Eye-level." He kisses Dean and tastes the tang of the olives on his lips. Dean moans and wraps his arms around David.
"Well, look at that," Dean says when David pulls back.
David reaches his hands around Dean and kisses him some more. He tightens the embrace and tries to lift Dean off the counter; Dean wraps his legs around David's waist and then-
The olive jar smashes on the floor, the sound alarms David and he lets go of Dean, takes a step back and slips in the oil. David falls and bangs his head against the table behind him.
"Ooooh, I heard that." Dean sucks his teeth in.
"Ow,"
Dean laughs, "You're all oily."
"Ow, thanks, ow!" David rubs a particularly sore spot on the side of his head.
Dean slides off the countertop and leans in to David, "Hey, you're okay?"
"Yeah, just ow. Really smarts."
Dean kisses David's forehead and helps him up. "Yeah, you're plenty smart already."
David grabs Dean's arms and says "Oh my God! Dean! I remember everything! It's all so clear now!"
Dean goes pale, "W-what?"
"Just kidding." David laughs but Dean isn't with him, his expression goes dark and he punches David in the arm, really, really hard.
"Not funny,"
"C'mon, Dean."
"No." Dean turns around and grabs some paper towels. If there were a way to clean something angrily, he'd be doing it.
"Dean, I'm sorry."
"Get out of here, you're going to cut yourself on the glass."
David looks down; he forgets to wear shoes sometimes. "Oh." He leaves.
Later, Dean slips into bed next to him. They haven't spoken since it happened. Sometimes David wonders if Dean does that just in case he forgets, and they can just go right back to the status quo.
Dean sort of wriggles himself closer to David, touches his nose to his. "Hey look, eye level." David tries very hard not to smile.
Dean tastes like beer this time, not olives. David knows it takes too much energy to hold a grudge with Dean so he just lets it slide away.
David decides that Dean is a lot like olive oil, he moves slowly but he gets everywhere, he stains David's clothes and he leaves a moist trail along his body.
It's these kisses that run down David's stomach, and usually don't stop when he gets to the fun stuff but Dean pulls back and hisses. His leg. He must have been sitting on the counter because it hurt, and then he had to lean on it to clean up the mess.
David pushes Dean onto his back, climbs on top of his waist, "I got this one."
Dean nods and shudders in a breath.
David pulls Dean's shirt off and kisses down his chest, in-between the dips of the muscles so he runs a straight line to his groin. He eases himself down Dean's middle, unhooks his fly but keeps the jeans on.
"Y'know, I hate fighting." David just says, out of nowhere.
Dean nods and reaches the back of his hand up to David's face, runs it along his cheek.
"I love you, I know you won't say it back, but I like to believe you love me too."
Dean's eyes make the affirmative he can't put into words.
"You're always going to keep things from me."
Dean nods. David's hand moves into his briefs, grabs him.
"I'm always going to ask you hard questions."
Dean's eyes roll back as David starts to stroke him.
"I'm always going to want to know what you know, Dean."
Dean wants to say something but David puts a finger to his lips, he's not done talking.
"I'm never going to stop trying to figure myself out. I think it's only fair you be a part of it. You're an important part of my life."
David's moving faster now and Dean is getting hard.
"I can't be without you. You can't do anything without me. We're stuck like this, Dean"
Dean bites his lip and looks up; David is so intense, so fucking hot when he's angry.
"So we might as well try to get along, right?"
Dean nods, he wants to get along so badly. He wants to make it right.
"Don't hit me when you get mad. Don't shut me out. If you don't want to tell me something, then say so. Don't go off and brood for hours and not come back until you feel like it. And when I won't stop bothering you about something, when I won't let it go, find another outlet for your frustration, okay?"
Dean mouths YES! And David stops and just squeezes him before beginning to shift around in the bed.
"Good. How's your leg feel?"
"Fine," Dean rasps. The endorphins always kill the pain. He feels like he could run a marathon when David leans in and kisses him, rubbing their erections together.
"Fuck me, then."
And he does, David sits in his lap and Dean sits up and their noses brush each other. Dean tries to catch David's lips with his but David moves away, teasing him. When David is close to coming he finally locks on to Dean's mouth, fucks his tongue in rhythm with Dean, and Dean crashes into him like a wave. Dean's moans hum and vibrate against his mouth and he feels Dean's leg tremble.
Then little pinpricks on his skin as blood flow moves away from his extremities. He squeezes his feet and fingers in an effort to stave off the numbness, comes splashing on Dean's stomach and his own chest. David breaks the kiss and pants against Dean's forehead, kisses his scar and Dean is holding him so tight.
Soon they're back, lying in bed side by side, curling into one another.
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
David swallows. "When you reacted… Would getting my memories back be a good or bad thing?"
Dean closes his eyes and shrugs. "I don't know."
David knows he's lying but Dean is like oil, he slides.
***
Of course, there are happier times. Some of the best damn months of David's life.
They get back from the Christmas party drunk, and unable to keep their hands to themselves. David makes sure to tip the cab driver extra for politely ignoring the fact that Dean got him off halfway across the bridge.
They burst into the apartment in a fit of laughter. Coats and gloves getting thrown everywhere. David loves how red Dean's cheeks get in the cold, like cherries, and he kisses and licks where Dean lets him.
Ties are the next things to go; and it's clear the living-room couch is as far as their drunk, wobbly legs will get them. Shirts are harder, buttons frustrate clumsy fingers.
"Merry Christmas, David." Dean breathes into his neck.
"S'not Christmas yet," Shoes are kicked on the floor, socks are toed and yanked off. Dean pushes David onto his back on the couch. Climbs on top of him.
"Don't care, wanna open my present." Belts now. David's the only one with enough dexterity so Dean's belt is the one that goes flying across the room. He undoes his own when Dean whines.
"What's that about opening presents?" David teases him.
"Shuddup." Dean frowns and nuzzles his face, "Mmmn, wanna fuck so much."
David laughs and pulls up Dean's white undershirt. It comes off and then his own follows. Pants are all that's left.
"Wanna fuck what?" David asks as Dean grinds his hips into his.
"Fuck you, you fuck me. Fuck everywhere. Want you so much."
David unzips his own fly, Dean does the same. They shimmy and shake, and pants are gone. Just naked on the couch and moving pillows around, propping themselves up.
It's sloppy and drunken kisses, wet with wine and whiskey. Somehow David sees through the haze, decides to take some initiative and rubs his hands against Dean's backside.
"You want me," he pants, "Want me to fuck you."
"Yes, god! Just want you inside me. Want you as far as you can go, want you-"
Dean babbles when he's drunk. Can't stop talking, and David gets quiet. Concentrates through the bubbles in his head, focuses on Dean. Focuses on getting Dean open, and focuses on getting himself to slide in.
Eventually he just has to put his mouth against Dean's so he'll shut up, let David figure out where the lube is (jacket pocket, by the door). That's what he says when he pulls back.
"Whuh huh?"
"Jacket pocket, by the door. Lube. I need it."
Dean is fast when he's horny, it's all the adrenaline that rushes, then he's tossing the tube and David catches it easily. Slicks himself up and works on Dean. Still talking, saying filthy things to David. Mixtures of swear words and erotic mumblings. Then there's the moaning.
Dean is a wonderful fucking moaner. Dean's moans are enough to make David come on his own.
David almost forgets the next step, he just gets so wrapped up in hearing Dean moan for him. His cock twitches and aches, and that's what reminds him that he's pushing fingers into Dean to get him open enough to fuck him. And that's what he does.
He always pretends to forget to warn Dean. The truth is the next best thing to hearing Dean moan, is hearing Dean scream.
"Fucking yes! Fuck! David, harder! God damn it you're so fucking hot, so fucking uhhhnnn…"
His body curves in S-shaped rhythms as he slides up and down on David's cock, riding him. David holds on to his leg, makes sure Dean doesn't twist it at a bad angle. Sometimes he loses himself in a moment and then he'll be limping for a week.
David loves Dean in these moments. Feels love from him. Feels everything he's ever felt bad about wash away, and he feels his head clear. There's no doubt, no wondering or confusion. Just love and Dean. Dean Winchester. The rest of his life can be tragedy and turmoil, so long as he has Dean. So long as he has this moment.
David is a melodramatic drunk. He comes and says Dean's name. Says he loves him and he'll be there forever.
Dean laughs and strokes his chest, runs blunt nails down his skin. Leaves little red marks that fade later on. He comes and buries himself in the crook of David's neck, where he knows he fits just right.
They breathe and laugh and sigh. David rubs Dean's back.
"Y'know what, Dean? I just realized something." Dean raises an eyebrow. "What if I'm Jewish?"
"Then I do eight nights of blowing your candles." Dean nuzzles him.
David laughs, "That doesn't make any sense!"
"So, you don't want eight nights of blowjobs?"
"I didn't say that."
Dean settles his chin against David's chest, and David pulls the couch throw over their torsos.
"So Dean, did you get what you wanted for Christmas?" David asks as he starts to drift off.
"Yeah." Dean answers, his eyes closed.
They sleep on the couch for a few hours before getting up and throwing themselves in bed, more room for Dean to sprawl. Their bed is full of pillows and a big fluffy comforter that usually gets bunched up and thrown around by Dean. He sleeps in tossing fits, and his dreams are always animated with words and kicks and shouts. David doesn't care because he's a ridiculously heavy sleeper. All that David cares about is that his legs don't hang off the edge of the bed.
Dean lives up to his promise; he gives David eight nights of blowjobs and games of strip-dreidel for good measure. David laughs and doesn't really think he's Jewish, but this is a mitzvah nonetheless.
The holidays are always happy ones.
***
It's really just a normal day when he remembers.
Dean is outside messing with his car, trying to install the CD player David gave him for his birthday, grumbling all the way. He's dug out another load of books that used to belong to Sam from the car, and David is going through them one by one.
He picks up a copy of Paradise Lost and flips through the pages, noting the presence of Sam's messy margin notes. A photograph that had been holding his place falls out and zigzags slowly to the floor, like a leaf caught in the wind. He picks it up, it says in simple cursive Winchester brothers, April 17th, 2008.
When he turns it over, it's him and Dean leaning against the Impala.
***
The sky is red and there's blood everywhere, not just on him but everywhere. He has to step over someone's ribcage to get to Dean, barely alive on the ground. It's his blood and Dean's blood and the blood of everyone he's killed, and he bends down and carves his initials into someone's forehead. Dean spits and swears he'll stop him but Sam just laughs and steps on top of the knife he's pinned Dean's leg down with. Then he leans down and twists it back and forth. Dean screams and passes out and Sam walks away, leaving him alive. Too easy.
***
It's hell and fire and brimstone and-God help him-he deserves it. He deserves to be there for everything he's done, even though every second of it is pain and misery. His skin is burning and his blood is boiling, and yet he's so cold that his joints are frozen like the tears on his cheeks and then there's Dean, pulling him out. Bringing him back to the light that stings his eyes, and holding onto him because he really can't stop crying. And he doesn't, even when every drop of water is gone from his body. He doesn't deserve to live, he doesn't deserve his brother's love or pity but it's surrounding him and he wants-
***
He's begged and he's pleaded and screamed; threatened to do it with or without his help and finally Dean agreed. They're with Missouri and Bobby and he's going to be better, it's all going to be better and he can't take another second of his life, so he twitches with impatience. There's a ritual and Sam doesn't care he's giving up everything. Sam doesn't want the name Winchester, Sam doesn't want to hunt and he doesn't need Dean anymore. Missouri reads the spell and Bobby's turning the sacred knife in his hands until it begins to glow white. Then he plunges it into Sam's left eye, and he screams as that eye goes dark. With his right eye he sees Dean. He's leaning on his single crutch, waving a pathetic goodbye, looking like Sam's twisting the knife all over again.
***
He's lying in the backseat of the Impala, bandaged and bruised and his eye is dead and taped shut. Dean's voice is echoing in his head, he must be whispering to him as he drives.
"Just so you know Sammy, I'm gonna try and leave you alone like I said I would. Give you some time to heal up. It's a good place, Father Tony is great and like, the most forgiving person I've ever met. Father Priam is okay but he's kinda got something up in his craw for me… Ahh, you don't care."
The car stops and he hears Dean putting it in park and then shuffling to turn and face him. A warm hand scratches the top of his head. "But you know Sammy. I told you. I don't respect your decision. I'm not gonna be able to keep my distance forever. Sure, Tony's gonna check in with me but-"
Dean's voice goes lower.
"I'm gonna have to see your face Sam. I can't not come and see you, hear your voice, talk to you. I don't know how else I can keep doing this, Sammy. How I'm gonna go on without you there. Don't even feel like trying. I need you in my life Sammy, but don't worry, I'm not gonna break the spell. You deserve your peace of mind, any that you can get."
"And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said yes, I'm sorry I didn't fight with you more, I'm sorry I can't stay away forever. You're all I have and- fuck that's such a goddamn cop-out thing to say. But it's true, and you just made me say goddamn in front of a fucking monastery! So I hope you enjoyed that, you bastard."
The last thing Dean ever says to Sam is, "It's okay, you're here now. It's gonna be okay."
***
Dean drops the ancient tape deck in front of him on the kitchen table; it's nothing more then a black box with dirty gnarled wires sticking out in all directions. It's still covered in dust that floats up when Dean lets it fall on the table, dancing in the air, catching the light.
"Wanna come test it out? I've got Judas Priest on CD." Dean smiles.
It's not David but Sam who laughs quietly, and wants to cry and he says, "God, what have I done?"
"See whatcha get for tryin' to bring me into this century? C'mon," Dean yanks at his arm and pulls him up and Sam uses the momentum to grab Dean and hold him in a tight hug.
"Hey? You okay?"
And it's Sam who feels all the old pain rushing back coupled with the new; it's Sam who feels guilty for wanting Dean, for making him do everything they've done, for loving him more than he can possibly say.
It's Sam who blames Dean for pushing him, for not just leaving him the fuck alone and drawing him back in.
It's Sam who quivers in Dean's arms; and it's Sam who will have to own up to this at the end, there's no redemption left. It was Sam who took the easy way out like a coward; and it's Sam who's going to pay for this, for the rest of his life.
David buries Sam somewhere deep inside him and says to Dean, "I'm just really happy you like your present."
***
Epilogue and Endnotes
Author: memphis86
Pairings/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 17,672 overall, 6,504 this part
Part 1|| Part 2||Part 3|| Epilogue & Notes
It's weeks and weeks of this, them sneaking around like it's some tawdry affair. Another night of mind-blowing sex, another motel room and David wakes up suddenly. The light from the window spills in blue and gray. Yellow light from the cars as they move past, sliding along the walls and over his body. He turns to look at Dean, and he's up as well. Dean smiles at him and the sides of his eyes crinkle. David licks his lips and moves closer.
"I love you." He whispers. Dean doesn't move and his smile drops. David clears his throat.
"Dean? I know you-"
Dean sits up and grabs his shirt, he's muttering under his breath. David can't hear what he's saying but Dean's making for the door, so David sits up and throws on clothes.
It's misting with warm rain, Dean is sitting on the stoop of the motel, letting his legs stretch out in front of him, tapping his good one in the mud.
"I should go."
"Go, where?" David closes the door to the room slightly and stands to the side, leaning against the wall.
Dean looks over his shoulder, but not at him directly, he's staring off to the side. "I can't," he scrunches his face tight, "I should've never come back after the first time. I should leave you alone and I- fuck!" He slams his fist against the ground. David jumps a little.
Dean's rubbing his face against his hand and finally turns to look at him. "I tried, I really did. I kept telling myself I could do it. That every time I saw you, was the last time."
"Dean…" David rolls the words around his head, choosing them carefully. "This is about who I was before, right? I told you I don't care about the past anymore. But I understand if-"
"David,"
"If whatever I did was so bad that you can't love me because of it--I get it. Just tell me you can't, and I'll back off…" Dean's standing up and his hands are on his face, rubbing away the tears he didn't realize were there. David sits back down with Dean on the stoop, Dean's hands still on his shoulders.
"Listen to me David. I'm going to try and say this right, okay?" Dean visibly steels himself and stares hard at David, squeezing his arms tight.
"Whatever happened back then, it doesn't matter. You're right to want to move on with your life. But you need to know this: Nothing you've done, or could do will ever, ever, change the way I feel about you. It didn't, and I'm stuck like this now. I can't leave you, I keep coming back because I… Damn it." Dean trails off.
"This is really hard, alright? This will never be easy for me."
David licks his lips, "It's not easy for me-"
"You said it! You can say it and I… I can't."
David's face softens as he realizes, "But you want to." Dean looks away.
David pulls Dean close and buries his face in Dean's shoulder. He doesn't want Dean to see it, but he can't help smiling.
Dean loves him.
***
They're eating at some roadside diner the next day, David's idea. Dean is wolfing down pancake after pancake. David is grinning like a loon.
"Will you quit it?!" Dean snaps but his mouth is full so it comes out mushy. David snickers.
Dean swallows. "I'm serious,"
"You love me."
"David…"
"You're my lover."
Dean doesn't have enough resolve to tell him no, or to tell him shut up. He just pokes at his food with his fork and pouts.
"Dean, c'mon."
Dean mumbles something and David prods. "What was that?"
"I know."
"You know what?"
"I know that, we're, that thing you said."
David laughs.
"You are such a pain." Dean groans and dumps more syrup on his plate.
***
David wants to smack Dean really hard, but he's too busy making sure Dean keeps his arm. It was a cut first, but now it's a big purple abscess because Dean is really stupid sometimes and doesn't clean his wounds properly.
"You're really stupid sometimes."
"Thanks."
"I'm serious! Now we have to get you to a doctor and get antibiotics before you go fucking septic, Dean! And guess who gets the distinct pleasure of cleaning, and squeezing as much pus from your wound until then?"
"I thought you monks liked tending to the sores of us lepers?"
David grabs him by the hair and pulls him close. "I am. Not. A monk. I am your boyfriend whether you use the word or not, and guess what? I actually give a damn about what happens to you! So you're gonna sit there, and let me yell at you as penance for making me worry and giving me heart attacks on a regular basis."
"Didn't know I was that good in bed-"
"Dean!"
"Okay, okay. Breathe, David. Let it out."
"I don't get it, you've been doing this your whole life and yet, you still forget the fucking number one rule of being a some badass-evil-killing-hero. Don't forget to lick your wounds clean, otherwise they get infected and you'll die of--I dunno, zombie poisoning. And-"
David is cut off by a loud crash followed by a yell. "What was that?"
"I don't know," Dean reaches into his bag and pulls out a square device. It's beeping and ticking like crazy, and he raises his eyebrows. "David, stay here."
"Dean, what's going on?" Dean hops off the table and grabs a shotgun out of his bag, cocks it.
"Whatever you do, don't move. Just stay right here unless I call-"
"Like hell I will," David stands up. "Dean you're hurt. You need me to cover you-"
"No! You're not coming-"
Father Priam throws open the doors, he's white as a sheet. "He's back! The Cardinal is back! He has Brother Anthony!"
"Sonavabitch!" Dean grabs his rocksalt rounds and marches forward. David follows him behind Father Priam.
"Who's the Cardinal?"
"I thought you got rid of him?!" Father Priam ignores David.
"Yeah, I know. Guess not."
"Why would he attack now?" Father Priam wrings his hands.
"I don't know! Where is he?"
"In the inner sanctum-"
"Stay here with David! Do not let him follow me!"
Father Priam stands in front of the door. David bounces on his feet, hearing gunshots and cursing and he can't help it. He needs to know Dean is okay. Father Priam tries to explain who the Cardinal is; the spirit of a serial killer who went after high-ranking members of the clergy. He was hung in the churchyard in the 17th century. He appears in the robes of a Cardinal, because it symbolizes the people he blames for his death. Dean met Father Anthony and Father Priam protecting them from the Cardinal the first time.
"And now, it seems our little exorcism didn't work." Father Priam concludes.
David hears a loud shot followed by Dean yelling and a thump on the ground. He can't stand it anymore and he pushes Father Priam aside and charges in. The gun is on the ground, just a few inches from him and there's a spectre hovering over Dean, pushing his whispy hands into Dean's chest, and Dean is screaming. Father Anthony is next to him, holding his chest and looking pale.
David dives for the shotgun, cocks it and points it at the ghost. "Get away from him!"
The spirit turns and releases Dean, and David shoots but he's swooping towards him. Father Anthony cries out in a weak voice, "His neck! Aim for the amulet!"
David shoots him in the dead center of the cross around his neck, and the spirit makes a terrible sound, David has to cover his ears. There's wind and it's so cold for one minute, and then the next everything is back to normal. David runs to Dean first who smacks him away and mumbles "Father Tony's 'lright?" Father Priam bursts in and David goes to the old man.
***
Father Anthony dies on the way to the hospital from a heart attack.
Father Priam prays in his room and David and Dean stay up all night drinking and commiserating on the couch. They trade their favorite Father Anthony stories.
It's some ungodly hour in the morning when Dean says into his cup, "I think 'm gonna retire."
"Bed's right up there," David angles his head.
"Nah, I think I'm," Dean pauses, "I think I'm done."
David moves closer to Dean, throws an arm around his shoulders.
"I've got to stop, y'know? While I still have something." While I still have you, he doesn't say.
David smiles, "Ahhh, you love me."
"Run away with me? Let's just go somewhere, just get the hell out of here and try somewhere new."
"Yeah?"
"You can finish school."
"I'm only two weeks away from my paralegal certification."
"Yeah, you do that first and then we'll-"
"We'll go somewhere new."
"Somewhere nice, somewhere safe."
"Let's go to California, Dean."
"Why California?"
"You said you found me in California. I wanna go back there. Where it all started."
Dean drops his head and clicks his tongue a few times. It's kinda annoying, but David is buzzed and it's four a.m. Nothing matters at four a.m.
"You don't wanna go back there, we're not living in the past. California is the past David, and we're-" Dean nods his head and turns to him, "We're moving forward. We're moving to the future, and we're going to New York."
"New York?"
"New York is the opposite of California. New York is the future. Our future."
"How is New York the opposite of California? Texas would be the opposite-"
"No, Texas is the opposite of New York."
"Wait, 'm confused."
"New York, David! Big city and bright lights. Millions of people to blend in with, be perfectly anonymous. Be a fresh start. Be big apples on little trees…"
"You're drunk…" David drifts off and Dean eventually wrangles both of them to bed.
In afternoon, when they wake up and their hangovers fade, it's decided that they're running away to New York City.
***
The thing about Father Anthony being gone, is that Father Priam no longer hides his contempt for Dean through a mask of politeness. He practically sneers at Dean lying on David's bed, laughing and drinking a beer.
Father Priam crooks his index finger at David and leads him away from his room, where he's been busy boxing up his books. He walks down to Father Anthony's office.
"Brother Anthony wanted you to have something before you left."
"He thought I was leaving?"
"He always knew you would, someday. When you found yourself again."
"Like, if I got my memories back?"
"No David, he knew that you didn't want to remember what happened to bring you here. He knew that buried beneath your pain, your soul was healing. That you'd be the person you were before, the person free of suffering and evil. A purified soul."
David bites back a caustic remark about how Father Priam's vision of a purified soul probably wasn't fucking another man.
Father Priam reaches into the desk, and hands David an envelope. There's a sizeable check made out to him inside. David's eyes go wide.
"I can't accept this-"
"He wanted you to have it, he'd been saving since you arrived. For two years he saved when he could. Please do not refuse a dead man's final gift to you."
Father Priam really could lay on the guilt when he wanted to. David flipped the check over in his hands nervously, eventually muttering a thank you. Father Priam sits back in the chair and nods.
David fidgets under the man's gaze and then finally asks, "Father Priam, I know you don't talk much about it, but I just wanted to know. You said back there that Dean came here because of the Cardinal. How did you know to call him? Did he just show up?"
Father Priam shook his head, "No, Father Anthony knew Dean's father. Well, he knew of Dean's father. Another man of God, Pastor James, was a good friend of John Winchester. When we contacted John, we received a message that lead us to Dean."
"So this Pastor, he knows Dean? Can I talk to him?"
"I'm afraid not, he's been dead quite a while."
David bows his head in silence. They sit in Father Anthony's office together for a few minutes. Quietly praying and mourning their dead. David stands up, and Father Priam follows and holds out his hand. David walks around Father Anthony's desk and embraces the man. Father Priam stiffens in his arms, but then returns the affection by quickly patting his back.
"Thank you for everything, Father."
"Good luck, David."
***
David begins to get interviews and calls from the firms he applied for. That's when he realizes they can't stall any longer and it's time to make the trek to New York.
The Impala is packed, for someone leading a fairly ascetic life, David has a lot more stuff then he realized. Dean's things are minimal though, not counting the contents of the trunk.
They stay in a motel in New Jersey, and then drive to New York to look for an apartment. Brooklyn seems like a good enough place to start.
The realtor's office is full of posters with pictures and prices next to them. David and Dean point at the ones they like, and she smiles and makes notes.
"You know, Brooklyn really is great. It's a true melting pot; there's this theory that every American has a relative that's lived in Brooklyn-so we're all connected to Brooklyn somehow! What about you boys?"
"What about what?" Dean crooks an eyebrow.
"You have any family in Brooklyn?"
"Nah," Dean shakes his head and David just shrugs. The realtor taps her pen.
"Where are you from, again?"
"California." David smiles.
"Kansas." Dean coughs.
She's obviously trying to prod them into more then one-word answers but gives up after Dean starts flat-out ignoring her. David jabs him in the side and whispers to him to be nice.
***
David hadn't really realized how quickly Dean could turn on the charm.
He's flirting like crazy with the realtor, and David has to bite his tongue really hard and tell himself it's all to get her to cut her fees as much as possible. There's always a deal to be had.
It's the fourth, or maybe fifth apartment they've seen. The neighborhood is quiet and full of families. Not too far from the subway and a bus, but with a garage for the Impala. It's got high ceilings and it comes with a partially furnished living room and an orange kitchen. The walls are white and the carpet is blue in places, and David pulls Dean aside. He's leaning on the formica countertop, taking some weight off his leg.
"I think this is it."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Wanna be sure?"
David nods and they leave with the realtor. They let her lead them to two more houses when Dean turns to David. "Well?"
"Yeah, it was the place. With the formica and the blue carpets and the garage."
The realtor giggles nervously.
"You're sure?"
"Dean, it's the only place I remember today. I'm sure."
The realtor is fumbling around with her papers, "Oh! If you don't remember let me show you-"
Dean puts up a hand and flashes his brightest smile. "No need, can I have a minute?" They walk out to the driveway.
David doesn't know how he does it, maybe he feeds her some sob story about his bum leg and his boyfriend's scrambled brains. Maybe he tells her some secret realtor code word that he learned. But the deal they get? Is ridiculous.
She smiles as they sign the lease and winks at Dean. Dean winks back and David loops his arm around Dean's and squeezes him tight.
***
They move in about a week later, collecting furniture in the meantime and arranging deliveries. Dean does most of it, David's been too busy going back and forth with firms before accepting a position as a paralegal with the district attorney's office. He could make more money in private practice, but there's something about the position that intrigues him more. Maybe it's knowing he's helping people, even the ones who can't afford to pay someone $1,000 an hour.
Dean doesn't have to work but he does anyway. He comes home one day covered in grease and beams at David.
"You got a job at a garage." David says before he has a chance.
"How'd you know?"
"I'm psychic." David drawls. Dean gives him a funny look and grabs a beer.
"What can I say? When you roll up in a car like mine, it says to people: 'Look at me! If I can take care of an automobile as fine as this one, think of what I can do for your shitty car!'"
David laughs and wraps his arms around Dean.
"Look at us, we're a two-income family."
"Yeah…"
David bites his lip. "You're not gonna freak out on me if things get too 'domestic', are you?"
"No, you?"
"Because I know you're used to being off on your own, like some kind of nomadic-"
"I like domestic." Dean kisses him. "I like this house, I like this neighborhood. I like the linoleum on the floor and I like it when dinner isn't from a convenience store or a diner. I like knowing where I'm sleeping every night, and I like having somewhere to be in the morning. And I'll kill you if you repeat this; but okay, I like spooning and reading the newspaper on Sunday. If it means I gotta vacuum and water plants and clean the garage and be a responsible adult about it, then fine."
David doesn't really know what to say or do other then kiss him back.
"Besides, the company isn't half bad. If you wanna go all Suzy Homemaker on me, go right ahead. Make me dinner and fetch my slippers."
"Fetch your own damn slippers!" David laughs and breaks the embrace to dig around the fridge. "And don't call me Suzy."
Dean chuckles and sits at the kitchen table. "So how was work, Suzanne?"
David smacks him on the back of the head but answers. "It was actually really cool. Everyone I work with is really nice and they're letting me help plan the Christmas party, even though I'm new."
Dean's eyes brighten, "There's a Christmas party?"
David scrunches his face a little, and lets out a small laugh. "Yeah, of course there is… You've never been to one, have you?"
Dean swallows his beer and shakes his head.
"Wow. You really do like all this normal, domestic stuff?"
"Always want what you never had."
David feels warm inside, like he could give Dean the life he's never had.
"So, you wanna be my date? To the Christmas party?"
"Well I have to think about it, check my calendar, see what everybody else is doing and- yes. Yes, I do. Will they have cookies?"
David laughs and leans in to kiss Dean, "Oh yeah, lots of cookies."
The kiss doesn't end and the kitchen table becomes the first piece of furniture (other then the bed) they besmirch with unspeakable sexual acts. At least that's what David thinks to himself. The truth is it's just a big grope-fest on the table, which leads to Dean's hand in his pants and then sparks behind his eye.
Dean goes to shower the grease and oil off from work, and David orders Chinese food. They eat it on the living room floor with the TV on, then wrap themselves in blankets on the couch. Dean's head on his chest as he drifts in and out feels like home.
***
Dean has taken over the formica countertop in the kitchen as his personal perch. He likes to sit there and eat or just talk to David. David likes to sit at the kitchen table like a normal person, but he doesn't say anything. He thinks Dean prefers keeping his leg off the ground when he's relaxing.
Dean's just sitting there one day, a jar of Greek olives between his legs, eating and telling David about work
David's walking around the kitchen, putting away the dishes; he walks by Dean and does a double-take. "Huh."
"Huh, what?" Dean says, mouth shiny and full of olive.
David grabs a butter knife from a drawer and holds it horizontally against his forehead and faces Dean. "Sit up straight, ha! I thought so."
"Whuh?"
David steps closer and touches his nose to Dean's, "We're perfectly," He rubs Dean's nose with his. "Eye-level." He kisses Dean and tastes the tang of the olives on his lips. Dean moans and wraps his arms around David.
"Well, look at that," Dean says when David pulls back.
David reaches his hands around Dean and kisses him some more. He tightens the embrace and tries to lift Dean off the counter; Dean wraps his legs around David's waist and then-
The olive jar smashes on the floor, the sound alarms David and he lets go of Dean, takes a step back and slips in the oil. David falls and bangs his head against the table behind him.
"Ooooh, I heard that." Dean sucks his teeth in.
"Ow,"
Dean laughs, "You're all oily."
"Ow, thanks, ow!" David rubs a particularly sore spot on the side of his head.
Dean slides off the countertop and leans in to David, "Hey, you're okay?"
"Yeah, just ow. Really smarts."
Dean kisses David's forehead and helps him up. "Yeah, you're plenty smart already."
David grabs Dean's arms and says "Oh my God! Dean! I remember everything! It's all so clear now!"
Dean goes pale, "W-what?"
"Just kidding." David laughs but Dean isn't with him, his expression goes dark and he punches David in the arm, really, really hard.
"Not funny,"
"C'mon, Dean."
"No." Dean turns around and grabs some paper towels. If there were a way to clean something angrily, he'd be doing it.
"Dean, I'm sorry."
"Get out of here, you're going to cut yourself on the glass."
David looks down; he forgets to wear shoes sometimes. "Oh." He leaves.
Later, Dean slips into bed next to him. They haven't spoken since it happened. Sometimes David wonders if Dean does that just in case he forgets, and they can just go right back to the status quo.
Dean sort of wriggles himself closer to David, touches his nose to his. "Hey look, eye level." David tries very hard not to smile.
Dean tastes like beer this time, not olives. David knows it takes too much energy to hold a grudge with Dean so he just lets it slide away.
David decides that Dean is a lot like olive oil, he moves slowly but he gets everywhere, he stains David's clothes and he leaves a moist trail along his body.
It's these kisses that run down David's stomach, and usually don't stop when he gets to the fun stuff but Dean pulls back and hisses. His leg. He must have been sitting on the counter because it hurt, and then he had to lean on it to clean up the mess.
David pushes Dean onto his back, climbs on top of his waist, "I got this one."
Dean nods and shudders in a breath.
David pulls Dean's shirt off and kisses down his chest, in-between the dips of the muscles so he runs a straight line to his groin. He eases himself down Dean's middle, unhooks his fly but keeps the jeans on.
"Y'know, I hate fighting." David just says, out of nowhere.
Dean nods and reaches the back of his hand up to David's face, runs it along his cheek.
"I love you, I know you won't say it back, but I like to believe you love me too."
Dean's eyes make the affirmative he can't put into words.
"You're always going to keep things from me."
Dean nods. David's hand moves into his briefs, grabs him.
"I'm always going to ask you hard questions."
Dean's eyes roll back as David starts to stroke him.
"I'm always going to want to know what you know, Dean."
Dean wants to say something but David puts a finger to his lips, he's not done talking.
"I'm never going to stop trying to figure myself out. I think it's only fair you be a part of it. You're an important part of my life."
David's moving faster now and Dean is getting hard.
"I can't be without you. You can't do anything without me. We're stuck like this, Dean"
Dean bites his lip and looks up; David is so intense, so fucking hot when he's angry.
"So we might as well try to get along, right?"
Dean nods, he wants to get along so badly. He wants to make it right.
"Don't hit me when you get mad. Don't shut me out. If you don't want to tell me something, then say so. Don't go off and brood for hours and not come back until you feel like it. And when I won't stop bothering you about something, when I won't let it go, find another outlet for your frustration, okay?"
Dean mouths YES! And David stops and just squeezes him before beginning to shift around in the bed.
"Good. How's your leg feel?"
"Fine," Dean rasps. The endorphins always kill the pain. He feels like he could run a marathon when David leans in and kisses him, rubbing their erections together.
"Fuck me, then."
And he does, David sits in his lap and Dean sits up and their noses brush each other. Dean tries to catch David's lips with his but David moves away, teasing him. When David is close to coming he finally locks on to Dean's mouth, fucks his tongue in rhythm with Dean, and Dean crashes into him like a wave. Dean's moans hum and vibrate against his mouth and he feels Dean's leg tremble.
Then little pinpricks on his skin as blood flow moves away from his extremities. He squeezes his feet and fingers in an effort to stave off the numbness, comes splashing on Dean's stomach and his own chest. David breaks the kiss and pants against Dean's forehead, kisses his scar and Dean is holding him so tight.
Soon they're back, lying in bed side by side, curling into one another.
"Dean?"
"Yeah?"
David swallows. "When you reacted… Would getting my memories back be a good or bad thing?"
Dean closes his eyes and shrugs. "I don't know."
David knows he's lying but Dean is like oil, he slides.
***
Of course, there are happier times. Some of the best damn months of David's life.
They get back from the Christmas party drunk, and unable to keep their hands to themselves. David makes sure to tip the cab driver extra for politely ignoring the fact that Dean got him off halfway across the bridge.
They burst into the apartment in a fit of laughter. Coats and gloves getting thrown everywhere. David loves how red Dean's cheeks get in the cold, like cherries, and he kisses and licks where Dean lets him.
Ties are the next things to go; and it's clear the living-room couch is as far as their drunk, wobbly legs will get them. Shirts are harder, buttons frustrate clumsy fingers.
"Merry Christmas, David." Dean breathes into his neck.
"S'not Christmas yet," Shoes are kicked on the floor, socks are toed and yanked off. Dean pushes David onto his back on the couch. Climbs on top of him.
"Don't care, wanna open my present." Belts now. David's the only one with enough dexterity so Dean's belt is the one that goes flying across the room. He undoes his own when Dean whines.
"What's that about opening presents?" David teases him.
"Shuddup." Dean frowns and nuzzles his face, "Mmmn, wanna fuck so much."
David laughs and pulls up Dean's white undershirt. It comes off and then his own follows. Pants are all that's left.
"Wanna fuck what?" David asks as Dean grinds his hips into his.
"Fuck you, you fuck me. Fuck everywhere. Want you so much."
David unzips his own fly, Dean does the same. They shimmy and shake, and pants are gone. Just naked on the couch and moving pillows around, propping themselves up.
It's sloppy and drunken kisses, wet with wine and whiskey. Somehow David sees through the haze, decides to take some initiative and rubs his hands against Dean's backside.
"You want me," he pants, "Want me to fuck you."
"Yes, god! Just want you inside me. Want you as far as you can go, want you-"
Dean babbles when he's drunk. Can't stop talking, and David gets quiet. Concentrates through the bubbles in his head, focuses on Dean. Focuses on getting Dean open, and focuses on getting himself to slide in.
Eventually he just has to put his mouth against Dean's so he'll shut up, let David figure out where the lube is (jacket pocket, by the door). That's what he says when he pulls back.
"Whuh huh?"
"Jacket pocket, by the door. Lube. I need it."
Dean is fast when he's horny, it's all the adrenaline that rushes, then he's tossing the tube and David catches it easily. Slicks himself up and works on Dean. Still talking, saying filthy things to David. Mixtures of swear words and erotic mumblings. Then there's the moaning.
Dean is a wonderful fucking moaner. Dean's moans are enough to make David come on his own.
David almost forgets the next step, he just gets so wrapped up in hearing Dean moan for him. His cock twitches and aches, and that's what reminds him that he's pushing fingers into Dean to get him open enough to fuck him. And that's what he does.
He always pretends to forget to warn Dean. The truth is the next best thing to hearing Dean moan, is hearing Dean scream.
"Fucking yes! Fuck! David, harder! God damn it you're so fucking hot, so fucking uhhhnnn…"
His body curves in S-shaped rhythms as he slides up and down on David's cock, riding him. David holds on to his leg, makes sure Dean doesn't twist it at a bad angle. Sometimes he loses himself in a moment and then he'll be limping for a week.
David loves Dean in these moments. Feels love from him. Feels everything he's ever felt bad about wash away, and he feels his head clear. There's no doubt, no wondering or confusion. Just love and Dean. Dean Winchester. The rest of his life can be tragedy and turmoil, so long as he has Dean. So long as he has this moment.
David is a melodramatic drunk. He comes and says Dean's name. Says he loves him and he'll be there forever.
Dean laughs and strokes his chest, runs blunt nails down his skin. Leaves little red marks that fade later on. He comes and buries himself in the crook of David's neck, where he knows he fits just right.
They breathe and laugh and sigh. David rubs Dean's back.
"Y'know what, Dean? I just realized something." Dean raises an eyebrow. "What if I'm Jewish?"
"Then I do eight nights of blowing your candles." Dean nuzzles him.
David laughs, "That doesn't make any sense!"
"So, you don't want eight nights of blowjobs?"
"I didn't say that."
Dean settles his chin against David's chest, and David pulls the couch throw over their torsos.
"So Dean, did you get what you wanted for Christmas?" David asks as he starts to drift off.
"Yeah." Dean answers, his eyes closed.
They sleep on the couch for a few hours before getting up and throwing themselves in bed, more room for Dean to sprawl. Their bed is full of pillows and a big fluffy comforter that usually gets bunched up and thrown around by Dean. He sleeps in tossing fits, and his dreams are always animated with words and kicks and shouts. David doesn't care because he's a ridiculously heavy sleeper. All that David cares about is that his legs don't hang off the edge of the bed.
Dean lives up to his promise; he gives David eight nights of blowjobs and games of strip-dreidel for good measure. David laughs and doesn't really think he's Jewish, but this is a mitzvah nonetheless.
The holidays are always happy ones.
***
It's really just a normal day when he remembers.
Dean is outside messing with his car, trying to install the CD player David gave him for his birthday, grumbling all the way. He's dug out another load of books that used to belong to Sam from the car, and David is going through them one by one.
He picks up a copy of Paradise Lost and flips through the pages, noting the presence of Sam's messy margin notes. A photograph that had been holding his place falls out and zigzags slowly to the floor, like a leaf caught in the wind. He picks it up, it says in simple cursive Winchester brothers, April 17th, 2008.
When he turns it over, it's him and Dean leaning against the Impala.
***
The sky is red and there's blood everywhere, not just on him but everywhere. He has to step over someone's ribcage to get to Dean, barely alive on the ground. It's his blood and Dean's blood and the blood of everyone he's killed, and he bends down and carves his initials into someone's forehead. Dean spits and swears he'll stop him but Sam just laughs and steps on top of the knife he's pinned Dean's leg down with. Then he leans down and twists it back and forth. Dean screams and passes out and Sam walks away, leaving him alive. Too easy.
***
It's hell and fire and brimstone and-God help him-he deserves it. He deserves to be there for everything he's done, even though every second of it is pain and misery. His skin is burning and his blood is boiling, and yet he's so cold that his joints are frozen like the tears on his cheeks and then there's Dean, pulling him out. Bringing him back to the light that stings his eyes, and holding onto him because he really can't stop crying. And he doesn't, even when every drop of water is gone from his body. He doesn't deserve to live, he doesn't deserve his brother's love or pity but it's surrounding him and he wants-
***
He's begged and he's pleaded and screamed; threatened to do it with or without his help and finally Dean agreed. They're with Missouri and Bobby and he's going to be better, it's all going to be better and he can't take another second of his life, so he twitches with impatience. There's a ritual and Sam doesn't care he's giving up everything. Sam doesn't want the name Winchester, Sam doesn't want to hunt and he doesn't need Dean anymore. Missouri reads the spell and Bobby's turning the sacred knife in his hands until it begins to glow white. Then he plunges it into Sam's left eye, and he screams as that eye goes dark. With his right eye he sees Dean. He's leaning on his single crutch, waving a pathetic goodbye, looking like Sam's twisting the knife all over again.
***
He's lying in the backseat of the Impala, bandaged and bruised and his eye is dead and taped shut. Dean's voice is echoing in his head, he must be whispering to him as he drives.
"Just so you know Sammy, I'm gonna try and leave you alone like I said I would. Give you some time to heal up. It's a good place, Father Tony is great and like, the most forgiving person I've ever met. Father Priam is okay but he's kinda got something up in his craw for me… Ahh, you don't care."
The car stops and he hears Dean putting it in park and then shuffling to turn and face him. A warm hand scratches the top of his head. "But you know Sammy. I told you. I don't respect your decision. I'm not gonna be able to keep my distance forever. Sure, Tony's gonna check in with me but-"
Dean's voice goes lower.
"I'm gonna have to see your face Sam. I can't not come and see you, hear your voice, talk to you. I don't know how else I can keep doing this, Sammy. How I'm gonna go on without you there. Don't even feel like trying. I need you in my life Sammy, but don't worry, I'm not gonna break the spell. You deserve your peace of mind, any that you can get."
"And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said yes, I'm sorry I didn't fight with you more, I'm sorry I can't stay away forever. You're all I have and- fuck that's such a goddamn cop-out thing to say. But it's true, and you just made me say goddamn in front of a fucking monastery! So I hope you enjoyed that, you bastard."
The last thing Dean ever says to Sam is, "It's okay, you're here now. It's gonna be okay."
***
Dean drops the ancient tape deck in front of him on the kitchen table; it's nothing more then a black box with dirty gnarled wires sticking out in all directions. It's still covered in dust that floats up when Dean lets it fall on the table, dancing in the air, catching the light.
"Wanna come test it out? I've got Judas Priest on CD." Dean smiles.
It's not David but Sam who laughs quietly, and wants to cry and he says, "God, what have I done?"
"See whatcha get for tryin' to bring me into this century? C'mon," Dean yanks at his arm and pulls him up and Sam uses the momentum to grab Dean and hold him in a tight hug.
"Hey? You okay?"
And it's Sam who feels all the old pain rushing back coupled with the new; it's Sam who feels guilty for wanting Dean, for making him do everything they've done, for loving him more than he can possibly say.
It's Sam who blames Dean for pushing him, for not just leaving him the fuck alone and drawing him back in.
It's Sam who quivers in Dean's arms; and it's Sam who will have to own up to this at the end, there's no redemption left. It was Sam who took the easy way out like a coward; and it's Sam who's going to pay for this, for the rest of his life.
David buries Sam somewhere deep inside him and says to Dean, "I'm just really happy you like your present."
***
Epilogue and Endnotes