Fic: Damaged Goods - (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Part 2 of 3
Back to Part 1
The dark road ahead put him to sleep almost immediately. The familiar hum of his baby, the good shit they’d shot him up with before he checked out. He actually slept, and dreamed about his first time going through recovery. A whole long intense flashback dream of learning how to walk with the prosthetic leg. How they’d had a nurse teach them how to keep his stump clean and un-irritated. He dreamt about how much Sam had put into his recovery, and just how shitty he’d been about accepting the help. He woke up with the urge to say thanks to Sam while he was still in a sleepy drugged haze, before he talked himself out of it.
“I never thanked you enough, Sammy,” Dean mumbled, coming back to himself a little after that intense dream. He tried to sit up from where he was slumped up against Sam’s shoulder. He at least wiped the drool off of Sam’s jacket as well as his own face. He’d really been out, he hated how Vicodin knocked him out like that.
“Thanked me for what, Dean?” Sam asked, giving him a driver’s side-eye with a bonus small smile.
“For taking care of me all that time, I know I was a real shit to you a lot of the time. And I’m sorry for that, and that you’re going to have to do it all over again,” Dean said.
“You don’t owe me anything Dean, you would have done the same for me, you have many times,” Sam said.
“Yeah, I would have, but still, you hung in there even with all the screaming and carrying on. And you let me try hunting again even though you were right that I never should have. I put us both in danger. And I wouldn’t have ended up in the fucking hospital again. So…just accept the thanks, even though they’re too little too late.”
“It’s not too late though, and okay, I do accept them. How about this, you’re welcome,” Sam said with a little chuckle. “Time for another pain pill I think.”
After downing the pill Sam handed him, chasing it with some water, Dean settled against his brother’s shoulder again and shut his eyes, letting his brother’s chuckle vibrate through him. It was a more than just pleasant feeling, he liked making Sam laugh or be amused or whatever. It felt good. “I’m glad I can still make you laugh.”
“Me too, sometimes I forget how good it feels,” Sam said, his shoulder moving as he turned the wheel to change lanes.
Dean kept his eyes closed and just enjoyed it, getting to soak up the physical closeness they didn’t usually allow themselves for such an extended period of time.
“Since you’re talking like this because of the drugs, I’ll share a little secret with you, I like it too, you know, so you can lay your head on my shoulder whenever you want to, it doesn’t have to be just when you’re out of your mind with pain,” Sam said.
“I’m not though, the pills are working and I’ve got you,” Dean said.
“I’m glad to hear that, and yes you do have me, for as long as you want me around,” Sam said.
“I know you already know the answer to that one, want you around forever,” Dean mumbled. Did he really say that out loud, and did it matter any more what they said to each other? Both of them knew how messed-up their lives were when they were separated, they’d both tried and failed. Soulmates, man.
“Yeah, soulmates,” Sam said.
“Am I talking out loud or are you reading my mind?” Dean asked in a sleepy mumble.
“Both, or either, wouldn’t you like to know,” Sam said with another delicious chuckle that Dean felt rumble through his whole body where it was pressed up against Sam’s.
Dean made it through the next eight hours by mostly sleeping through it. Sam was always listening to some podcast or music on low whenever he woke up. They stopped only for gas and food they ate in the car, figuring it would be too hard to get set up at a diner table with all of Dean’s paraphernalia. It was cozy, and warm snuggled up to Sam like his own personal space heater. A guy could get used to this. If it wasn’t for the pain, and not getting to drive it would have been one of his all-time favorite drives.
“Really? This would be one of your favorite drives? Out of all the driving we’ve done over the years?” Sam asked.
“Shit, I’m doing the thinking out loud thing again, aren’t I? Either that or you are reading my mind.”
Sam didn’t answer, just waggled his eyebrows which was ridiculous and made Dean laugh. He did it again and Dean laughed even harder.
“Well, what’s your favorite drive then?” Dean asked once he calmed down from the unexpected laughing jag.
Sam glanced over at him and then back at the road. His shoulders went up, almost like he was shrugging, but then they stayed there, like he was bracing for a physical blow. “When you picked me up at Stanford and we drove to Jericho.”
Dean couldn’t speak for a moment, thinking back to that time, to how worried he’d been about what he was doing, interrupting Sam’s new bright and shiny life, yanking him back into hunting, even if it was supposed to be temporary. But why would it have been Sam’s favorite?
“It’s okay that it didn’t end up being temporary, you know that right?” Sam asked.
“I didn’t then, but I do now, yeah,” Dean answered, his throat suddenly choked up with emotion. “I still..I just wish that Jess had been there for you to go back to like she was supposed to be.”
“I don’t, not anymore, I don’t think I could have gone back to trying to live a regular life with her. She deserved someone who was in it one hundred percent, and that wouldn’t have been me. Not back then and sure as hell not now.”
Dean couldn’t answer, he concentrated extra hard on not speaking his thoughts out loud as his stomach churned with the emotions all of this had stirred up. Sam wouldn’t have been smiling if he’d heard what his words had brought on inside of Dean. It was like Sam had rearranged the furniture and the room was dark. Sam was supposed to be over there, safe and sound, away from getting crashed into or pulled into Dean’s mixed-up bag of feelings.
He knew that he’d always felt too strongly about Sam, there had always been too much there, something well past brothers, probably the soulmate thing, but they’d never hashed it out. Dean knew why he had never chosen to push it, because he’d always thought Sam deserved someone better than being stuck with him for the rest of his life.
“I can’t think of anything better, honestly, Dean,” Sam said.
“This isn’t fair, all of this coming out of me without my permission, like fucking truth serum,” Dean said. “Was I like this last time?”
“Well, we didn’t have to drive as far to get home, but yeah, pretty much. But it seemed like you pretty quickly forgot most of what we talked about,” Sam said.
“I’m really sorry for doing that back then and doing it again now. It’s probably going to be worse this time around with the TBI added in. Talk about deserving someone better.”
“That’s just it though, maybe it doesn’t make sense to you, but I need to do this for you. Please just let me take care of you like you deserve to be taken care of. I’ve got to pay you back for all the years you dealt with me.”
Dean thought about how he was going to forget all this caring and sharing, it made his stomach cramp with the pain of it, he didn’t want to lose this…not again…not ever. That meant he should say something about it, on purpose this time, no matter how hard it was.
“Sammy, if I forget all this, like I did last time, can you remind me? It’s not fair for you to know all this and me to be just a dumbass that you’re putting up with.”
“You’re not a dumbass, Dean. And I’m not just putting up with you, this is us being a team, right? We both know you’d do the same thing, so let me do it for you this time, okay? And I promise if you forget all this stuff, I’ll try to be brave enough to remind you.”
“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said, drifting off to sleep the last bit before they hit the Kansas state line.
The familiar thump of the garage door closing woke Dean up. They were finally home. He let himself groan while he struggled to sit up straight after Sam had gotten out and closed the door. Plenty of time to let on how much he was really hurting. Soon enough, Sam was opening his door and handing him his crutches from the back seat. He didn’t insist on carrying his own bag, his head was pounding too much just at the effort of standing up.
Sam held the door open and followed him as he crutched his way down the hall to the bathroom. They both relieved themselves and washed up at the sinks. Dean tried to keep the water away from the bandages over his new scars. He noticed Sam’s hisses of pain from his own new scars getting the soap and water treatment.
“You okay over there? C'mere, let me look at it under the light,” Dean insisted even though he could barely focus.
Sam rolled his eyes and stepped into Dean’s space. Dean held himself up with one hand on the sink and traced his fingers next to the slices on Sam’s face. It looked like someone had expertly cleaned and butterfly bandaged him up. “They do this for you in the hospital?”
“Yeah, one of the nurses said she was tired of seeing me bleeding all over everything.”
“You’re gross,” Dean mumbled through a smile.
“You’re gross,” Sam mumbled right back with his own smile.
Dean thumb caught at one bandage that had come un-stuck. “This one needs replacing, they should have given you stitches for this part,” Dean said, his thumb rubbing back and forth against the skin on Sam’s cheek, slightly sticky from the bandage residue. He felt Sam tremble and press into his hand. His eyes met Sam’s and he finally saw.
Dean saw what he’d always known was buried deep inside his brother, right there in Sam’s eyes the truth was uncovered, bare and beautiful.
“Sammy,” Dean murmured.
Sam’s eyes flicked down to his lips briefly like he needed to see Dean’s lips move as his nickname was being said. Dean licked them on instinct and heard a stifled sound come from his brother. He leaned into Sam and tilted his face up. Sam’s met him and their lips brushed together just slightly, teasingly soft, heartbreakingly tentative.
Dean’s hand on Sam’s cheek moved behind his neck, pulling him down for a real kiss. One that was almost wet, a hint of tongue teasing, Sam melting into his hold, but then Dean’s leg, his stump really, gave a spasm from all the unaccustomed weight, making him unsteady.
Sam’s hands caught at his waist, holding him steady. “We better get you to bed, huh?”
“Yeah, that’d be good,” Dean said, cursing himself for spazzing out just when they were getting somewhere good.
Sam stepped away from their near embrace and grabbed the crutches. He held them out to Dean and didn’t meet his eyes.
“Sammy?” Dean asked, taking the crutches and stepping forward towards him. “You okay?”
Sam looked up at him finally, hair in his eyes as usual, hiding the almost tears still clinging to his lashes. “Yeah, I’m good, just really fucking glad that you’re home, Dean.”
Dean crutched one step closer and laid his head on Sam’s shoulder, sighing at how good it felt, just like it had in the car. “Me too.”
Sam’s hand came up and ran through Dean’s hair, then his fingers traced the edge of his ear. “Let’s get to bed, huh? I’m tired after all that driving.”
Dean lifted his head up, reluctant to lose the contact and started to crutch his way down the hall. He heard Sam sigh and switch off the bathroom light and begin to follow. Dean headed to his own room, stopping to let go of one crutch and open the door. His unmade, rumpled bed looked the same as when they’d left a few weeks ago.
Sam stepped past him and straightened out the bedding, Dean watched as Sam’s hands smoothed out the sheets. “You don’t have to do-“
“Yeah I do, I want to. Just get changed,” Sam said.
“Yes, sir,” Dean said, turning to his bureau and finding a pair of sleep pants and his favorite because it was the softest, old Zeppelin t-shirt. He leaned the crutches up against the wall next to the bed and lowered himself down to sitting. He took off his shirts and was about to put his t-shirt on when he noticed Sam was doing the same.
“So you’re stealing my clothes now, huh?” Dean asked, eyes raking over how the words printed on his Metallica “One” shirt looked stretched over Sam’s chest.
Sam stood up straighter and seemed to puff up his chest, the words distorting even more. “What’s yours is mine, or something, right?”
Dean concentrated on getting his own shirt on, instead of figuring out what the hell Sam meant by that. Then time seemed to skip, and Sam was kneeling on the floor in front of him, reaching up to undo Dean’s pants. Dean pressed his hands down into the bed, lifting his butt up enough for Sam to pull the hospital pants the rest of the way off. Sam’s hands were on his bared thigh, massaging gently above the stump.
“God, you’re really tight,” Sam said with a tongue click that meant he was worried. “Must be all the sitting upright in the car. I should have had you lay down in the back seat.” He kept pressing deeply into Dean’s quadriceps, moving his fingers until he felt them release.
“Ah, thanks, that’s better,” Dean managed to say, god it felt so good to have his brother’s hands on his bare skin. He hoped Sam wasn’t noticing how it had affected him.
Sam unhooked Dean’s prosthesis and set it next to the bed near the crutches. He examined the stump around where the titanium rod protruded from Dean’s skin. “You really healed up well here. Lucky thing, otherwise we would have had to get some wheelchair ramps installed here at home.”
Dean didn’t say anything, he just let himself luxuriate in the good feeling he always got whenever Sam called the bunker home. There was just something about it, because he’d been so hesitant before. Dean wondered if it meant something had changed for his brother, he let himself momentarily dare to hope.
Sam leaned over to examine Dean’s left leg where the incision for his recent femur repair was still healing. “Tomorrow I’ll change the bandages on this one and see how it’s doing. It feeling okay?”
“I can’t really tell, so I guess it’s okay,” Dean said. He was relieved that Sam wasn’t noticing, or at least that he wasn’t saying anything about his obvious state of arousal. The pajama pants felt wonderfully soft on his skin as Sam pulled them up his legs, being oh-so-careful around his newest incision.
Dean pushed himself up again so Sam could pull them under and up around his butt. Sam’s hands stayed there, against Dean’s lower back for a long moment where Dean wasn’t sure if a back massage or something else was coming.
“I’m not sure what to do here, Dean,” Sam finally said, sitting back on his heels and looking up at Dean. His hands were still on Dean’s back so he counted that as a win.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, concentrating on not squirming with the pleasure of Sam’s closeness.
“You’re so hard and you’re right there, and I want to-“ Sam stopped himself, blushing bright red. He took one hand off of Dean’s back and adjusted himself, making it so obvious that Dean couldn’t miss that Sam was just as hard.
“Oh…well, I want it too, whatever you want, I mean…if that helps you decide,” Dean said, feeling a blush of his own start up his cheeks.
“I don’t want to take advantage, you’re on pain pills, and I don’t…”
“I haven’t had one in a while. Besides, you won’t hurt me, I know you won’t, and hey, look at me, c’mon,” Dean said, willing Sam to look up.
Sam finally did and his eyes were-he’d never seen this look before. They were full of everything, all the range of emotions they usually hid from one another. His little brother felt everything so deeply, so passionately, it was a surprise to feel it aimed right square at him like this.
“You won’t be taking advantage. You never could, Sammy, not of me, never,” Dean said, finally brave enough to reach out and cup Sam’s cheek in one hand. Sam closed his eyes at his touch and pressed into his hand. “I’m all yours.”
Sam looked at him, sharp and assessing, with a nearly visual growl of possession that almost spooked Dean. Instead it gave him a thrill of desire running up his spine and flushing through his whole body. He was even harder than before, harder than he’d been in what felt like months.
Sam nuzzled his face against Dean’s lower belly, his sharp chin pressing into Dean’s almost painfully where he was the hardest. His hands were roaming all over Dean’s skin, his back, his thighs, up his chest. Sam sat up then, and took Dean’s mouth over in a passionate kiss that seemed to last forever and not nearly long enough. Dean never wanted it to end, the feeling of this first, this new, this finally kiss. It was sweet and hot and just…everything.
Dean couldn’t think straight, and it wasn’t the pain or the pain pills, it was Sam taking over all of his senses at once, filling them with his Sam-ness more than usual. He always saw and heard and smelled Sam, practically all day every day, he was used to that. But getting to taste and touch too, all at the same time, it was the best overload, exquisite and fulfilling and not nearly enough. A wildfire of raw wanting ran through him, making him tremble in Sam’s embrace.
Sam pulled back, panting like he’d come back from a sprint workout. “You okay, did I hurt you?” Sam asked with a worried frown.
Dean couldn’t speak, he could only nod, and try to smile, and Sam understood in a bare instant and gathered him back into his arms, kissing him breathless all over again. Dean let the waves of desire roll through him this time, they went on and on, as he finally accepted that Sam wasn’t stopping or letting up. Then he heard words, someone was speaking, it wasn’t him this time, it was Sam murmuring against his lips. “Always wanted this, Dean. Always wanted you, just like this.”
Dean pulled back then, and found his voice, “Me too, Sammy, always.”
Sam took over again, this time he managed to get Dean’s shirt off, as well as his own. He arranged Dean on the bed and knelt between Dean’s thighs, his giant hands wrapping around his ass, pulling and kneading until Dean thought he’d go insane with how damn good it felt. Sam’s hair softly brushed his stomach, and then his lips were on him, soft at first and then insistent. Just like his kisses, Dean briefly thought before his mind was blown with how good it felt to be sucked most of the way into Sam’s mouth. He didn’t care where Sam had learned this (no he really did but that was maybe something for later), but oh god it was perfect. The suction, the heat of his mouth, how wet and hot with the perfect pressure on the tip as he brushed the back of Sam’s throat.
His hips gave a little pulsing thrust, and Sam’s throat closed around him, obviously choking a little. His hands were still kneading and pulling at Dean’s ass, and Sam’s hair was brushing over his stomach so perfectly in rhythm and it was all too much and it was all too good. Dean could feel one of Sam’s hands leave his ass and felt the bed shake as his brother stroked himself to climax, groaning as he came. That sound made Dean come too, the vibration of Sam’s moans pushing him over the edge.
He was briefly ashamed to pass out so instantly as he did, accepting the blankness once again.
To Part 3
The dark road ahead put him to sleep almost immediately. The familiar hum of his baby, the good shit they’d shot him up with before he checked out. He actually slept, and dreamed about his first time going through recovery. A whole long intense flashback dream of learning how to walk with the prosthetic leg. How they’d had a nurse teach them how to keep his stump clean and un-irritated. He dreamt about how much Sam had put into his recovery, and just how shitty he’d been about accepting the help. He woke up with the urge to say thanks to Sam while he was still in a sleepy drugged haze, before he talked himself out of it.
“I never thanked you enough, Sammy,” Dean mumbled, coming back to himself a little after that intense dream. He tried to sit up from where he was slumped up against Sam’s shoulder. He at least wiped the drool off of Sam’s jacket as well as his own face. He’d really been out, he hated how Vicodin knocked him out like that.
“Thanked me for what, Dean?” Sam asked, giving him a driver’s side-eye with a bonus small smile.
“For taking care of me all that time, I know I was a real shit to you a lot of the time. And I’m sorry for that, and that you’re going to have to do it all over again,” Dean said.
“You don’t owe me anything Dean, you would have done the same for me, you have many times,” Sam said.
“Yeah, I would have, but still, you hung in there even with all the screaming and carrying on. And you let me try hunting again even though you were right that I never should have. I put us both in danger. And I wouldn’t have ended up in the fucking hospital again. So…just accept the thanks, even though they’re too little too late.”
“It’s not too late though, and okay, I do accept them. How about this, you’re welcome,” Sam said with a little chuckle. “Time for another pain pill I think.”
After downing the pill Sam handed him, chasing it with some water, Dean settled against his brother’s shoulder again and shut his eyes, letting his brother’s chuckle vibrate through him. It was a more than just pleasant feeling, he liked making Sam laugh or be amused or whatever. It felt good. “I’m glad I can still make you laugh.”
“Me too, sometimes I forget how good it feels,” Sam said, his shoulder moving as he turned the wheel to change lanes.
Dean kept his eyes closed and just enjoyed it, getting to soak up the physical closeness they didn’t usually allow themselves for such an extended period of time.
“Since you’re talking like this because of the drugs, I’ll share a little secret with you, I like it too, you know, so you can lay your head on my shoulder whenever you want to, it doesn’t have to be just when you’re out of your mind with pain,” Sam said.
“I’m not though, the pills are working and I’ve got you,” Dean said.
“I’m glad to hear that, and yes you do have me, for as long as you want me around,” Sam said.
“I know you already know the answer to that one, want you around forever,” Dean mumbled. Did he really say that out loud, and did it matter any more what they said to each other? Both of them knew how messed-up their lives were when they were separated, they’d both tried and failed. Soulmates, man.
“Yeah, soulmates,” Sam said.
“Am I talking out loud or are you reading my mind?” Dean asked in a sleepy mumble.
“Both, or either, wouldn’t you like to know,” Sam said with another delicious chuckle that Dean felt rumble through his whole body where it was pressed up against Sam’s.
Dean made it through the next eight hours by mostly sleeping through it. Sam was always listening to some podcast or music on low whenever he woke up. They stopped only for gas and food they ate in the car, figuring it would be too hard to get set up at a diner table with all of Dean’s paraphernalia. It was cozy, and warm snuggled up to Sam like his own personal space heater. A guy could get used to this. If it wasn’t for the pain, and not getting to drive it would have been one of his all-time favorite drives.
“Really? This would be one of your favorite drives? Out of all the driving we’ve done over the years?” Sam asked.
“Shit, I’m doing the thinking out loud thing again, aren’t I? Either that or you are reading my mind.”
Sam didn’t answer, just waggled his eyebrows which was ridiculous and made Dean laugh. He did it again and Dean laughed even harder.
“Well, what’s your favorite drive then?” Dean asked once he calmed down from the unexpected laughing jag.
Sam glanced over at him and then back at the road. His shoulders went up, almost like he was shrugging, but then they stayed there, like he was bracing for a physical blow. “When you picked me up at Stanford and we drove to Jericho.”
Dean couldn’t speak for a moment, thinking back to that time, to how worried he’d been about what he was doing, interrupting Sam’s new bright and shiny life, yanking him back into hunting, even if it was supposed to be temporary. But why would it have been Sam’s favorite?
“It’s okay that it didn’t end up being temporary, you know that right?” Sam asked.
“I didn’t then, but I do now, yeah,” Dean answered, his throat suddenly choked up with emotion. “I still..I just wish that Jess had been there for you to go back to like she was supposed to be.”
“I don’t, not anymore, I don’t think I could have gone back to trying to live a regular life with her. She deserved someone who was in it one hundred percent, and that wouldn’t have been me. Not back then and sure as hell not now.”
Dean couldn’t answer, he concentrated extra hard on not speaking his thoughts out loud as his stomach churned with the emotions all of this had stirred up. Sam wouldn’t have been smiling if he’d heard what his words had brought on inside of Dean. It was like Sam had rearranged the furniture and the room was dark. Sam was supposed to be over there, safe and sound, away from getting crashed into or pulled into Dean’s mixed-up bag of feelings.
He knew that he’d always felt too strongly about Sam, there had always been too much there, something well past brothers, probably the soulmate thing, but they’d never hashed it out. Dean knew why he had never chosen to push it, because he’d always thought Sam deserved someone better than being stuck with him for the rest of his life.
“I can’t think of anything better, honestly, Dean,” Sam said.
“This isn’t fair, all of this coming out of me without my permission, like fucking truth serum,” Dean said. “Was I like this last time?”
“Well, we didn’t have to drive as far to get home, but yeah, pretty much. But it seemed like you pretty quickly forgot most of what we talked about,” Sam said.
“I’m really sorry for doing that back then and doing it again now. It’s probably going to be worse this time around with the TBI added in. Talk about deserving someone better.”
“That’s just it though, maybe it doesn’t make sense to you, but I need to do this for you. Please just let me take care of you like you deserve to be taken care of. I’ve got to pay you back for all the years you dealt with me.”
Dean thought about how he was going to forget all this caring and sharing, it made his stomach cramp with the pain of it, he didn’t want to lose this…not again…not ever. That meant he should say something about it, on purpose this time, no matter how hard it was.
“Sammy, if I forget all this, like I did last time, can you remind me? It’s not fair for you to know all this and me to be just a dumbass that you’re putting up with.”
“You’re not a dumbass, Dean. And I’m not just putting up with you, this is us being a team, right? We both know you’d do the same thing, so let me do it for you this time, okay? And I promise if you forget all this stuff, I’ll try to be brave enough to remind you.”
“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said, drifting off to sleep the last bit before they hit the Kansas state line.
The familiar thump of the garage door closing woke Dean up. They were finally home. He let himself groan while he struggled to sit up straight after Sam had gotten out and closed the door. Plenty of time to let on how much he was really hurting. Soon enough, Sam was opening his door and handing him his crutches from the back seat. He didn’t insist on carrying his own bag, his head was pounding too much just at the effort of standing up.
Sam held the door open and followed him as he crutched his way down the hall to the bathroom. They both relieved themselves and washed up at the sinks. Dean tried to keep the water away from the bandages over his new scars. He noticed Sam’s hisses of pain from his own new scars getting the soap and water treatment.
“You okay over there? C'mere, let me look at it under the light,” Dean insisted even though he could barely focus.
Sam rolled his eyes and stepped into Dean’s space. Dean held himself up with one hand on the sink and traced his fingers next to the slices on Sam’s face. It looked like someone had expertly cleaned and butterfly bandaged him up. “They do this for you in the hospital?”
“Yeah, one of the nurses said she was tired of seeing me bleeding all over everything.”
“You’re gross,” Dean mumbled through a smile.
“You’re gross,” Sam mumbled right back with his own smile.
Dean thumb caught at one bandage that had come un-stuck. “This one needs replacing, they should have given you stitches for this part,” Dean said, his thumb rubbing back and forth against the skin on Sam’s cheek, slightly sticky from the bandage residue. He felt Sam tremble and press into his hand. His eyes met Sam’s and he finally saw.
Dean saw what he’d always known was buried deep inside his brother, right there in Sam’s eyes the truth was uncovered, bare and beautiful.
“Sammy,” Dean murmured.
Sam’s eyes flicked down to his lips briefly like he needed to see Dean’s lips move as his nickname was being said. Dean licked them on instinct and heard a stifled sound come from his brother. He leaned into Sam and tilted his face up. Sam’s met him and their lips brushed together just slightly, teasingly soft, heartbreakingly tentative.
Dean’s hand on Sam’s cheek moved behind his neck, pulling him down for a real kiss. One that was almost wet, a hint of tongue teasing, Sam melting into his hold, but then Dean’s leg, his stump really, gave a spasm from all the unaccustomed weight, making him unsteady.
Sam’s hands caught at his waist, holding him steady. “We better get you to bed, huh?”
“Yeah, that’d be good,” Dean said, cursing himself for spazzing out just when they were getting somewhere good.
Sam stepped away from their near embrace and grabbed the crutches. He held them out to Dean and didn’t meet his eyes.
“Sammy?” Dean asked, taking the crutches and stepping forward towards him. “You okay?”
Sam looked up at him finally, hair in his eyes as usual, hiding the almost tears still clinging to his lashes. “Yeah, I’m good, just really fucking glad that you’re home, Dean.”
Dean crutched one step closer and laid his head on Sam’s shoulder, sighing at how good it felt, just like it had in the car. “Me too.”
Sam’s hand came up and ran through Dean’s hair, then his fingers traced the edge of his ear. “Let’s get to bed, huh? I’m tired after all that driving.”
Dean lifted his head up, reluctant to lose the contact and started to crutch his way down the hall. He heard Sam sigh and switch off the bathroom light and begin to follow. Dean headed to his own room, stopping to let go of one crutch and open the door. His unmade, rumpled bed looked the same as when they’d left a few weeks ago.
Sam stepped past him and straightened out the bedding, Dean watched as Sam’s hands smoothed out the sheets. “You don’t have to do-“
“Yeah I do, I want to. Just get changed,” Sam said.
“Yes, sir,” Dean said, turning to his bureau and finding a pair of sleep pants and his favorite because it was the softest, old Zeppelin t-shirt. He leaned the crutches up against the wall next to the bed and lowered himself down to sitting. He took off his shirts and was about to put his t-shirt on when he noticed Sam was doing the same.
“So you’re stealing my clothes now, huh?” Dean asked, eyes raking over how the words printed on his Metallica “One” shirt looked stretched over Sam’s chest.
Sam stood up straighter and seemed to puff up his chest, the words distorting even more. “What’s yours is mine, or something, right?”
Dean concentrated on getting his own shirt on, instead of figuring out what the hell Sam meant by that. Then time seemed to skip, and Sam was kneeling on the floor in front of him, reaching up to undo Dean’s pants. Dean pressed his hands down into the bed, lifting his butt up enough for Sam to pull the hospital pants the rest of the way off. Sam’s hands were on his bared thigh, massaging gently above the stump.
“God, you’re really tight,” Sam said with a tongue click that meant he was worried. “Must be all the sitting upright in the car. I should have had you lay down in the back seat.” He kept pressing deeply into Dean’s quadriceps, moving his fingers until he felt them release.
“Ah, thanks, that’s better,” Dean managed to say, god it felt so good to have his brother’s hands on his bare skin. He hoped Sam wasn’t noticing how it had affected him.
Sam unhooked Dean’s prosthesis and set it next to the bed near the crutches. He examined the stump around where the titanium rod protruded from Dean’s skin. “You really healed up well here. Lucky thing, otherwise we would have had to get some wheelchair ramps installed here at home.”
Dean didn’t say anything, he just let himself luxuriate in the good feeling he always got whenever Sam called the bunker home. There was just something about it, because he’d been so hesitant before. Dean wondered if it meant something had changed for his brother, he let himself momentarily dare to hope.
Sam leaned over to examine Dean’s left leg where the incision for his recent femur repair was still healing. “Tomorrow I’ll change the bandages on this one and see how it’s doing. It feeling okay?”
“I can’t really tell, so I guess it’s okay,” Dean said. He was relieved that Sam wasn’t noticing, or at least that he wasn’t saying anything about his obvious state of arousal. The pajama pants felt wonderfully soft on his skin as Sam pulled them up his legs, being oh-so-careful around his newest incision.
Dean pushed himself up again so Sam could pull them under and up around his butt. Sam’s hands stayed there, against Dean’s lower back for a long moment where Dean wasn’t sure if a back massage or something else was coming.
“I’m not sure what to do here, Dean,” Sam finally said, sitting back on his heels and looking up at Dean. His hands were still on Dean’s back so he counted that as a win.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, concentrating on not squirming with the pleasure of Sam’s closeness.
“You’re so hard and you’re right there, and I want to-“ Sam stopped himself, blushing bright red. He took one hand off of Dean’s back and adjusted himself, making it so obvious that Dean couldn’t miss that Sam was just as hard.
“Oh…well, I want it too, whatever you want, I mean…if that helps you decide,” Dean said, feeling a blush of his own start up his cheeks.
“I don’t want to take advantage, you’re on pain pills, and I don’t…”
“I haven’t had one in a while. Besides, you won’t hurt me, I know you won’t, and hey, look at me, c’mon,” Dean said, willing Sam to look up.
Sam finally did and his eyes were-he’d never seen this look before. They were full of everything, all the range of emotions they usually hid from one another. His little brother felt everything so deeply, so passionately, it was a surprise to feel it aimed right square at him like this.
“You won’t be taking advantage. You never could, Sammy, not of me, never,” Dean said, finally brave enough to reach out and cup Sam’s cheek in one hand. Sam closed his eyes at his touch and pressed into his hand. “I’m all yours.”
Sam looked at him, sharp and assessing, with a nearly visual growl of possession that almost spooked Dean. Instead it gave him a thrill of desire running up his spine and flushing through his whole body. He was even harder than before, harder than he’d been in what felt like months.
Sam nuzzled his face against Dean’s lower belly, his sharp chin pressing into Dean’s almost painfully where he was the hardest. His hands were roaming all over Dean’s skin, his back, his thighs, up his chest. Sam sat up then, and took Dean’s mouth over in a passionate kiss that seemed to last forever and not nearly long enough. Dean never wanted it to end, the feeling of this first, this new, this finally kiss. It was sweet and hot and just…everything.
Dean couldn’t think straight, and it wasn’t the pain or the pain pills, it was Sam taking over all of his senses at once, filling them with his Sam-ness more than usual. He always saw and heard and smelled Sam, practically all day every day, he was used to that. But getting to taste and touch too, all at the same time, it was the best overload, exquisite and fulfilling and not nearly enough. A wildfire of raw wanting ran through him, making him tremble in Sam’s embrace.
Sam pulled back, panting like he’d come back from a sprint workout. “You okay, did I hurt you?” Sam asked with a worried frown.
Dean couldn’t speak, he could only nod, and try to smile, and Sam understood in a bare instant and gathered him back into his arms, kissing him breathless all over again. Dean let the waves of desire roll through him this time, they went on and on, as he finally accepted that Sam wasn’t stopping or letting up. Then he heard words, someone was speaking, it wasn’t him this time, it was Sam murmuring against his lips. “Always wanted this, Dean. Always wanted you, just like this.”
Dean pulled back then, and found his voice, “Me too, Sammy, always.”
Sam took over again, this time he managed to get Dean’s shirt off, as well as his own. He arranged Dean on the bed and knelt between Dean’s thighs, his giant hands wrapping around his ass, pulling and kneading until Dean thought he’d go insane with how damn good it felt. Sam’s hair softly brushed his stomach, and then his lips were on him, soft at first and then insistent. Just like his kisses, Dean briefly thought before his mind was blown with how good it felt to be sucked most of the way into Sam’s mouth. He didn’t care where Sam had learned this (no he really did but that was maybe something for later), but oh god it was perfect. The suction, the heat of his mouth, how wet and hot with the perfect pressure on the tip as he brushed the back of Sam’s throat.
His hips gave a little pulsing thrust, and Sam’s throat closed around him, obviously choking a little. His hands were still kneading and pulling at Dean’s ass, and Sam’s hair was brushing over his stomach so perfectly in rhythm and it was all too much and it was all too good. Dean could feel one of Sam’s hands leave his ass and felt the bed shake as his brother stroked himself to climax, groaning as he came. That sound made Dean come too, the vibration of Sam’s moans pushing him over the edge.
He was briefly ashamed to pass out so instantly as he did, accepting the blankness once again.
To Part 3