Fic: Sticking With You (Sam/Dean, R) Part 2
Back to Part 1
****
Instead of talking or interacting much once they finally made it off the road and into a motel room for the night, Dean drank a few glasses of whisky instead. He used the time to really think about what Sam had said in the car. He was glad that Sam had gotten them talking, it was hard to have conversations like that when it wasn’t just the two of them in the car. But it had always been hard for him to process deep stuff like this while he was driving. All the processing always had to happen after he’d gotten out of the driver’s seat. Dean thought about how Sam probably didn’t know that since he didn’t do all that much driving himself and usually when he did, Dean was either sleeping or injured, so they weren’t much for bringing up deep conversational topics when Sam was the one driving.
He eventually came to the realization that he hadn’t said what he’d needed to, about how he saw Sam, how he saw his pain and struggle too. It seemed like it was important to actually say the words out loud to him, tonight before he was completely asleep. He brought the whisky bottle with him over to Sam’s bed, standing over him for a long moment trying to gauge if he was out for the count or not.
It would be the coward’s way out to not say anything, and Fortuna had declared them heroes just today. It seemed like it was time to try to live up to it in a small, yet crucial way.
****
Sam was almost asleep when he felt Dean sit on the edge of his bed. He sighed but didn’t turn over to face him.
“I see you too, how much you hide the pain away. Maybe it’s because I know what you’ve gone through, how much of it is because of what I’ve done. But I wish you’d let me carry some of it for you,” Dean said, his voice full of a strange emotion Sam couldn’t quite name.
Sam turned over so he could see Dean’s face in the light from the bathroom, he was almost unrecognizable, the openness made him even more beautiful to Sam. He had to take a breath to steady himself before he answered. “I can’t though, you’ve got your own load that you’re carrying. I wish you’d let me carry it for you sometimes,” Sam said.
“Can we maybe take turns at it or something?” Dean asked, eyes locked on Sam’s, still fiddling with the whisky bottle in his hands.
“How would we do that, we’re always lying and hiding it from each other, and ourselves,” Sam said, knowing that was one hell of an understatement of the facts.
“Maybe we need to add another code word, like Poughkeepsie or Funkytown?” Dean asked.
“That might work, how about a Game of Thrones one, like The Twins?” Sam suggested.
“Hmmm, yeah, two identical castles, separated by a river, and joined by a bridge, yeah that works, good metaphor,” Dean said.
“So how will it work, we say it when we need help? Or when we see the other person obviously needs it?” Sam asked.
“It’s all in how you use it. If you say to me, something like ‘seems like you need a visit to The Twins, Dean’ then I’ll know to let you carry some of what I’m dealing with. But if you say something like ‘I’m going to visit The Twins’ then I’ll know you need me to help you out.”
“Deal,” Sam said. “I’ll drink to that.” He held out his hand for the bottle to make it official. This seemed like a momentous kind of thing they were agreeing to, especially on top of what they’d shaken on back in the car. If it worked even a little bit, it would make their lives so much better.
Dean handed the half empty bottle to him and rearranged himself on the bed, with his back against the headboard and his legs out in front of him. Sam propped himself up on an elbow and took a long drink, staring up at Dean’s sharp profile. He was silhouetted against the bathroom light, and Sam could see the sweep of Dean’s long eyelashes. There was something about the way they curled up at their ends that always got to him.
They kept passing the whisky bottle back and forth until it was empty. No more words were exchanged, because they weren’t necessary after all of they’d shared that day and night.
Dean ended up staying the night in Sam’s bed. Whether he had fallen asleep or possibly passed out didn’t matter all that much to either of them.
*****
They woke up in the late morning, to the sound of the housekeeping staff banging on their door. They were all tangled up together which wasn’t all that terrible. But that also included being hard against each other, which was also not too terrible in Dean’s mind, but turned into awkward as hell as they moved against one another to get out of bed and get covered up enough to answer the door. He had to hold back from moaning with the pleasure of feeling Sam’s body moving sinuously against his as Sam struggled his way out of the tangle of covers and body parts. He watched Sam open the door slightly and give the puppy dog eyes to the housekeeper. It worked of course…it always worked. Dean would know. Sam pulled the blanket around himself, covering up what was likely to still be embarrassing.
“She gave us fifteen minutes, or we have to pay for another day,” Sam said through slitted eyes.
“You a little hungover there, dude?” Dean asked with a fond chuckle.
Sam nodded and stumbled his way towards the bathroom, the blanket left behind him on the floor, revealing his long strong and very bare legs. Dean couldn’t help but stare at how beautifully formed his brother was, he always had been, but now, he was really something else. Those enormous shoulders that could bear the weight of the world and all of Dean’s bullshit, that trim waist that Sam worked so hard on maintaining. He was the whole package, his brother was, and there was no denying it to himself any longer.
*****
It was awkward all over again, except for how it kind of wasn’t, at least not as much. In the past if something like that had happened there would have been a lot of angry silence and avoiding each other’s eyes over breakfast. This time it was different, there was some silence, but it wasn’t hostile or embarrassed, maybe confusion was a better way to describe it. And Sam kept looking at him across the table, locking eyes and searching for something as they talked about their route home and whether to go through Calgary or the other way.
They had at least four more long days of driving to get back home. Dean stopped once they were getting low on gas and let Sam drive for a while. They switched again after gassing up and grabbing some cheeseburgers to eat while Dean drove. After a few more hours, Dean was done for, and Sam was passed out cold in the passenger seat. Dean had to find a motel without Sam’s expert navigation, but he managed, pulling into the Rest -A-Way motel parking lot.
Even after the car had been turned off, Sam was still soundly asleep, and Dean watched him for a while before he got out to get them a room. It was hard to take a long look at Sam like this when he was driving. The curve of his brother’s long neck was so inviting, he had to wring his hands together to stop himself from touching Sam’s skin. He let himself out of the car quietly and tried to shake off the feeling of almost, too-close yet again.
When the sleepy-eyed clerk asked him what kind of room he wanted for the night, he almost gave the usual answer of two queens, but he stopped himself. “You got any king beds open?”
“Dude, it’s wide open, there’s only like two other people here tonight,” sleepy-eyes said.
“Then I’d like a king room on the first floor, my…uh, partner’s dead asleep in the car and I might have to drag him inside.”
“Okay then,” sleepy-eyes said, printing out a reservation form and grabbing a key card.
Dean wasn’t sure of himself here, his reasons for asking were bouncing around in his mind. How he was going to explain this to Sam he didn’t know, he couldn’t seem to land on anything that made sense except for: I wanted to sleep in a big bed with you tonight. Just because.
“You and your partner are in room nine, down on the end. Let me know if you need a luggage cart to haul him,” sleepy-eyes said with that distaste homophobes sometimes tried to hide emphasizing the word partner in practically glowing neon invisible air-quotes.
“Buddy, if it’s some kind of a problem for you, let me know before I pay for the room,” Dean challenged, just holding back on the growl he wanted to let loose.
“No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Well, I guess I kind of did, but no, it’s not a problem. I just thought ‘partner’ sounded funny, instead of coming out and saying boyfriend or husband or whatever. My honey, that’s what I call my man,” sleepy-eyes said, gesturing his left hand at Dean so he could see the gold ring on his third finger.
Dean signed the credit card screen reader and took the key card. “Your honey ever lucky enough to get a ride on a luggage cart?”
“No, but he’s gotten a ride on something much better, namely me,” not-so-sleepy-eyes said with a laugh.
Dean laughed and waved at the kid. He’d had to drive all the way to Alaska and back to finally have a motel clerk like this one. He couldn’t wait to tell Sam about him, once he got him into the room that was.
There was no need for a luggage cart because Sam was already awake when Dean got back to the car. He was leaning against it doing his hamstring stretches, his back arched just so, the sight of which made Dean stop and admire the view. His brother was just…really put together well. His whole body was really-annoyingly tall, sure, but so elegant and graceful and strong. He thought back to that morning, waking up in the bed, hard against each other, but not moving to do anything about it. Trying to ignore and push it away the obvious attraction they felt for each other. Maybe it was the soulmates thing, or Chuck messing with them. It was most likely just a lifetime of trying to deny what they both really wanted.
He tossed Sam the card key and opened up the trunk to grab his bag. “Room nine, down on the end.”
Sam picked up his bag and got the door open. When Dean made it to their room, Sam was stopped in the doorway. He was staring at the bed. The bed that would be theirs for the night.
“It’s got a king bed, was this all they had?” Sam asked, a strange note of what sounded like vulnerability to Dean in his voice. His eyes roamed over the practically empty parking lot.
“No, I asked the dude for one. Figured it worked out last night, we both got some good sleep right? And we’ve got another long day tomorrow, might as well be comfortable,” Dean said, naming off all the practical reasons and leaving out the most obvious one.
“You don’t have to cover, Dean. We both know it wasn’t a whisky mistake last night. You made the right assumption, I was just surprised is all.”
Dean gently pushed him into the room and shut the door behind them. Sam pretended to stumble and fell face first down onto the big bed.
“Ah, this is so nice, all this spaaaace,” Sam said, star fishing to take up the entire space of the bed.
“Your wingspan, man, you’re taking up the whole damn bed, it’s too much sometimes,” Dean said, toeing off his boots.
Sam flopped over onto his back, his arms still wide, grinning at him with his hair fanned out on the white pillowcases. It was like Dean’s favorite fantasy, a dream that was really happening. Sam smiling at him like this, opened up wide on the bed. He felt like the luckiest damn s.o.b. on the planet.
It must have shown on his face, because the expression on Sam’s face changed, the smile disappeared and he propped himself up on his elbows. “What’s up?”
Dean shook his head and tried to smile, hoping that Sam’s would come back. It did, but slowly. “I was just feeling like Fortuna gave me a whole lot of luck all of a sudden.”
Sam blushed, color high on his cheeks, lips going even a more deep shade of pink. “Same here. C’mon and flop awhile.”
“I gotta brush my teeth and stuff, as soon as I get horizontal I’m gonna zonk out,” Dean said.
Sam laid back on the bed with his arms outstretched. “Don’t take too long.”
Dean looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. Tired, but happy, and definitely not the look of a depraved monster. Even though there were plenty of depraved ideas he could come up with to do with that beautiful man on the bed in the other room, that wasn’t a thing, that was definitely not happening tonight.
He knew that tonight was special. Because they meant it this time, both of them meant it one hundred percent. There was no guessing that when they slept in the bed together-it was on purpose. It was a choice they were both making because they wanted it.
****
But Nothing happened, except for the whole falling in love thing, which didn’t really need to happen, because it had already happened, it had been happening this whole time, whether or not they had ever stopped to name it. And it wasn’t awkward in the morning. Not one bit. Even though they woke up the same way as they had the morning before, tangled up around one another, hard and wanting.
“Good morning,” Sam said, his head pressed into the pillow and Dean’s shoulder.
“Morning,” Dean said, tightening the hold his body had on Sam’s for a moment before releasing him and slowly, reluctantly unwinding them.
He was already in the bathroom and trying to pee when he remembered that doing that when he was this hard was nearly impossible. He turned the shower on and jumped in, soaping up his right hand and quickly bringing himself off. He may or may not have said Sam’s name out loud when he came. He hoped that if he had, that it wasn’t audible in the other room.
When the shower was shut off and he was toweling his body dry, he heard the bed squeaking and his brother’s voice moaning, “Deaan, yes, oh god.” And then the squeaking stopped. That was a whole new version of his name that he hadn’t heard from Sam before. One to add to his catalog for sure. He shaved in order to give Sam some time to get cleaned up and then bounced out into the room, towel wrapped around his waist.
****
Dean could see how flustered Sam was, so he decided to give him a break-but just this one time. He got dressed quickly and scooped up the car keys. “I’m gonna go get us some dinner, any requests?”
“If there’s somewhere that has good soup, I’d love some,” Sam said, arranging the blanket over his lap one more time just to make it blindingly obvious.
“Put a sock on the door handle if you need more time to take care of that,” Dean threw over his shoulder as he closed the door. He grinned to himself when he heard Sam’s squawk of protest.
*****
The dinner Dean came back with wasn’t anything exciting, but at least he’d found soup as Sam had requested. Sam ate the passable beef and vegetable soup as he watched in mildly horrified fascination as Dean pushed the remains of his roast beef drippings around the plastic plate with the last of his dinner roll. He wiped it clean and stuffed the bread in his mouth. It wasn’t a pretty sight, Sam sighed as he thought he really ought to know better than to look at Dean while he ate by now.
“What?” Dean asked with a cheesy grin that showed some of the remains of his last bite.
Sam threw the last bit of his dinner roll at Dean, hitting him in the lips. “You’re gross.”
Dean grabbed up the whisky bottle and stood up from his chair, he ambled across the room to stand by the window, looking out at the parking lot through the sheer curtains. It was so warm in their room, Dean was down to wearing just a white t-shirt and Sam honestly couldn’t get enough of watching his brother move. He was graceful and powerful, and the way he held the bottle up to his lips made Sam nearly mad with desire. Sam pushed up from his chair and stood next to Dean as he drank deeply from the whisky bottle again.
“What?” Dean asked with the same cheesy grin, this time thankfully without any bits of food.
“When I see you do that thing with your lips, I can’t think straight,” Sam said, feeling his cheeks blush hot at just saying something like that out loud.
“You mean this?” Dean asked, curling his lips around the top of the whisky bottle, a little whisky slipped out and hit his white t-shirt.
Sam watched, eyes locked on to the way Dean’s lips tightened almost to white as he practically suckled at the bottle. He slapped Dean on the shoulder once the bottle came away from his lips. “Cut it out, now you’re just teasing.”
“So what if I am?” Dean asked, waggling his eyebrows.
“Gimme,” Sam said, grabbing for the bottle.
“You’re not going to overdo it again, right? It sucks when you’re hungover in the morning,” Dean said.
“Sucks for you or for me?” Sam asked, finally snatching the bottle away from Dean’s flailing hand. The whisky slopped onto the back of Dean’s hand, Sam held Dean’s hand up to his lips and licked it off, slow and thorough. Just as he finished he looked up into Dean’s astonished eyes, momentarily worried he’d gone too far, too fast, too whatever. But Dean’s eyes went dark with desire and need and Sam smiled, feasting on the energy between them. He drank deeply from the whisky bottle, as a way to change the subject, change the focus.
Dean was still silent and transfixed on Sam’s every movement like a predator Sam would normally be worried about and on guard from potential attack. Instead Sam let himself soak up the intense attention, it felt like a balm over some sore neglected parts deep inside himself he hadn’t realized were thirsty for whatever this was. Whatever it meant, he needed it and now he could admit to himself that he wanted it.
****
To Part 3
****
Instead of talking or interacting much once they finally made it off the road and into a motel room for the night, Dean drank a few glasses of whisky instead. He used the time to really think about what Sam had said in the car. He was glad that Sam had gotten them talking, it was hard to have conversations like that when it wasn’t just the two of them in the car. But it had always been hard for him to process deep stuff like this while he was driving. All the processing always had to happen after he’d gotten out of the driver’s seat. Dean thought about how Sam probably didn’t know that since he didn’t do all that much driving himself and usually when he did, Dean was either sleeping or injured, so they weren’t much for bringing up deep conversational topics when Sam was the one driving.
He eventually came to the realization that he hadn’t said what he’d needed to, about how he saw Sam, how he saw his pain and struggle too. It seemed like it was important to actually say the words out loud to him, tonight before he was completely asleep. He brought the whisky bottle with him over to Sam’s bed, standing over him for a long moment trying to gauge if he was out for the count or not.
It would be the coward’s way out to not say anything, and Fortuna had declared them heroes just today. It seemed like it was time to try to live up to it in a small, yet crucial way.
****
Sam was almost asleep when he felt Dean sit on the edge of his bed. He sighed but didn’t turn over to face him.
“I see you too, how much you hide the pain away. Maybe it’s because I know what you’ve gone through, how much of it is because of what I’ve done. But I wish you’d let me carry some of it for you,” Dean said, his voice full of a strange emotion Sam couldn’t quite name.
Sam turned over so he could see Dean’s face in the light from the bathroom, he was almost unrecognizable, the openness made him even more beautiful to Sam. He had to take a breath to steady himself before he answered. “I can’t though, you’ve got your own load that you’re carrying. I wish you’d let me carry it for you sometimes,” Sam said.
“Can we maybe take turns at it or something?” Dean asked, eyes locked on Sam’s, still fiddling with the whisky bottle in his hands.
“How would we do that, we’re always lying and hiding it from each other, and ourselves,” Sam said, knowing that was one hell of an understatement of the facts.
“Maybe we need to add another code word, like Poughkeepsie or Funkytown?” Dean asked.
“That might work, how about a Game of Thrones one, like The Twins?” Sam suggested.
“Hmmm, yeah, two identical castles, separated by a river, and joined by a bridge, yeah that works, good metaphor,” Dean said.
“So how will it work, we say it when we need help? Or when we see the other person obviously needs it?” Sam asked.
“It’s all in how you use it. If you say to me, something like ‘seems like you need a visit to The Twins, Dean’ then I’ll know to let you carry some of what I’m dealing with. But if you say something like ‘I’m going to visit The Twins’ then I’ll know you need me to help you out.”
“Deal,” Sam said. “I’ll drink to that.” He held out his hand for the bottle to make it official. This seemed like a momentous kind of thing they were agreeing to, especially on top of what they’d shaken on back in the car. If it worked even a little bit, it would make their lives so much better.
Dean handed the half empty bottle to him and rearranged himself on the bed, with his back against the headboard and his legs out in front of him. Sam propped himself up on an elbow and took a long drink, staring up at Dean’s sharp profile. He was silhouetted against the bathroom light, and Sam could see the sweep of Dean’s long eyelashes. There was something about the way they curled up at their ends that always got to him.
They kept passing the whisky bottle back and forth until it was empty. No more words were exchanged, because they weren’t necessary after all of they’d shared that day and night.
Dean ended up staying the night in Sam’s bed. Whether he had fallen asleep or possibly passed out didn’t matter all that much to either of them.
*****
They woke up in the late morning, to the sound of the housekeeping staff banging on their door. They were all tangled up together which wasn’t all that terrible. But that also included being hard against each other, which was also not too terrible in Dean’s mind, but turned into awkward as hell as they moved against one another to get out of bed and get covered up enough to answer the door. He had to hold back from moaning with the pleasure of feeling Sam’s body moving sinuously against his as Sam struggled his way out of the tangle of covers and body parts. He watched Sam open the door slightly and give the puppy dog eyes to the housekeeper. It worked of course…it always worked. Dean would know. Sam pulled the blanket around himself, covering up what was likely to still be embarrassing.
“She gave us fifteen minutes, or we have to pay for another day,” Sam said through slitted eyes.
“You a little hungover there, dude?” Dean asked with a fond chuckle.
Sam nodded and stumbled his way towards the bathroom, the blanket left behind him on the floor, revealing his long strong and very bare legs. Dean couldn’t help but stare at how beautifully formed his brother was, he always had been, but now, he was really something else. Those enormous shoulders that could bear the weight of the world and all of Dean’s bullshit, that trim waist that Sam worked so hard on maintaining. He was the whole package, his brother was, and there was no denying it to himself any longer.
*****
It was awkward all over again, except for how it kind of wasn’t, at least not as much. In the past if something like that had happened there would have been a lot of angry silence and avoiding each other’s eyes over breakfast. This time it was different, there was some silence, but it wasn’t hostile or embarrassed, maybe confusion was a better way to describe it. And Sam kept looking at him across the table, locking eyes and searching for something as they talked about their route home and whether to go through Calgary or the other way.
They had at least four more long days of driving to get back home. Dean stopped once they were getting low on gas and let Sam drive for a while. They switched again after gassing up and grabbing some cheeseburgers to eat while Dean drove. After a few more hours, Dean was done for, and Sam was passed out cold in the passenger seat. Dean had to find a motel without Sam’s expert navigation, but he managed, pulling into the Rest -A-Way motel parking lot.
Even after the car had been turned off, Sam was still soundly asleep, and Dean watched him for a while before he got out to get them a room. It was hard to take a long look at Sam like this when he was driving. The curve of his brother’s long neck was so inviting, he had to wring his hands together to stop himself from touching Sam’s skin. He let himself out of the car quietly and tried to shake off the feeling of almost, too-close yet again.
When the sleepy-eyed clerk asked him what kind of room he wanted for the night, he almost gave the usual answer of two queens, but he stopped himself. “You got any king beds open?”
“Dude, it’s wide open, there’s only like two other people here tonight,” sleepy-eyes said.
“Then I’d like a king room on the first floor, my…uh, partner’s dead asleep in the car and I might have to drag him inside.”
“Okay then,” sleepy-eyes said, printing out a reservation form and grabbing a key card.
Dean wasn’t sure of himself here, his reasons for asking were bouncing around in his mind. How he was going to explain this to Sam he didn’t know, he couldn’t seem to land on anything that made sense except for: I wanted to sleep in a big bed with you tonight. Just because.
“You and your partner are in room nine, down on the end. Let me know if you need a luggage cart to haul him,” sleepy-eyes said with that distaste homophobes sometimes tried to hide emphasizing the word partner in practically glowing neon invisible air-quotes.
“Buddy, if it’s some kind of a problem for you, let me know before I pay for the room,” Dean challenged, just holding back on the growl he wanted to let loose.
“No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Well, I guess I kind of did, but no, it’s not a problem. I just thought ‘partner’ sounded funny, instead of coming out and saying boyfriend or husband or whatever. My honey, that’s what I call my man,” sleepy-eyes said, gesturing his left hand at Dean so he could see the gold ring on his third finger.
Dean signed the credit card screen reader and took the key card. “Your honey ever lucky enough to get a ride on a luggage cart?”
“No, but he’s gotten a ride on something much better, namely me,” not-so-sleepy-eyes said with a laugh.
Dean laughed and waved at the kid. He’d had to drive all the way to Alaska and back to finally have a motel clerk like this one. He couldn’t wait to tell Sam about him, once he got him into the room that was.
There was no need for a luggage cart because Sam was already awake when Dean got back to the car. He was leaning against it doing his hamstring stretches, his back arched just so, the sight of which made Dean stop and admire the view. His brother was just…really put together well. His whole body was really-annoyingly tall, sure, but so elegant and graceful and strong. He thought back to that morning, waking up in the bed, hard against each other, but not moving to do anything about it. Trying to ignore and push it away the obvious attraction they felt for each other. Maybe it was the soulmates thing, or Chuck messing with them. It was most likely just a lifetime of trying to deny what they both really wanted.
He tossed Sam the card key and opened up the trunk to grab his bag. “Room nine, down on the end.”
Sam picked up his bag and got the door open. When Dean made it to their room, Sam was stopped in the doorway. He was staring at the bed. The bed that would be theirs for the night.
“It’s got a king bed, was this all they had?” Sam asked, a strange note of what sounded like vulnerability to Dean in his voice. His eyes roamed over the practically empty parking lot.
“No, I asked the dude for one. Figured it worked out last night, we both got some good sleep right? And we’ve got another long day tomorrow, might as well be comfortable,” Dean said, naming off all the practical reasons and leaving out the most obvious one.
“You don’t have to cover, Dean. We both know it wasn’t a whisky mistake last night. You made the right assumption, I was just surprised is all.”
Dean gently pushed him into the room and shut the door behind them. Sam pretended to stumble and fell face first down onto the big bed.
“Ah, this is so nice, all this spaaaace,” Sam said, star fishing to take up the entire space of the bed.
“Your wingspan, man, you’re taking up the whole damn bed, it’s too much sometimes,” Dean said, toeing off his boots.
Sam flopped over onto his back, his arms still wide, grinning at him with his hair fanned out on the white pillowcases. It was like Dean’s favorite fantasy, a dream that was really happening. Sam smiling at him like this, opened up wide on the bed. He felt like the luckiest damn s.o.b. on the planet.
It must have shown on his face, because the expression on Sam’s face changed, the smile disappeared and he propped himself up on his elbows. “What’s up?”
Dean shook his head and tried to smile, hoping that Sam’s would come back. It did, but slowly. “I was just feeling like Fortuna gave me a whole lot of luck all of a sudden.”
Sam blushed, color high on his cheeks, lips going even a more deep shade of pink. “Same here. C’mon and flop awhile.”
“I gotta brush my teeth and stuff, as soon as I get horizontal I’m gonna zonk out,” Dean said.
Sam laid back on the bed with his arms outstretched. “Don’t take too long.”
Dean looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. Tired, but happy, and definitely not the look of a depraved monster. Even though there were plenty of depraved ideas he could come up with to do with that beautiful man on the bed in the other room, that wasn’t a thing, that was definitely not happening tonight.
He knew that tonight was special. Because they meant it this time, both of them meant it one hundred percent. There was no guessing that when they slept in the bed together-it was on purpose. It was a choice they were both making because they wanted it.
****
But Nothing happened, except for the whole falling in love thing, which didn’t really need to happen, because it had already happened, it had been happening this whole time, whether or not they had ever stopped to name it. And it wasn’t awkward in the morning. Not one bit. Even though they woke up the same way as they had the morning before, tangled up around one another, hard and wanting.
“Good morning,” Sam said, his head pressed into the pillow and Dean’s shoulder.
“Morning,” Dean said, tightening the hold his body had on Sam’s for a moment before releasing him and slowly, reluctantly unwinding them.
He was already in the bathroom and trying to pee when he remembered that doing that when he was this hard was nearly impossible. He turned the shower on and jumped in, soaping up his right hand and quickly bringing himself off. He may or may not have said Sam’s name out loud when he came. He hoped that if he had, that it wasn’t audible in the other room.
When the shower was shut off and he was toweling his body dry, he heard the bed squeaking and his brother’s voice moaning, “Deaan, yes, oh god.” And then the squeaking stopped. That was a whole new version of his name that he hadn’t heard from Sam before. One to add to his catalog for sure. He shaved in order to give Sam some time to get cleaned up and then bounced out into the room, towel wrapped around his waist.
****
Dean could see how flustered Sam was, so he decided to give him a break-but just this one time. He got dressed quickly and scooped up the car keys. “I’m gonna go get us some dinner, any requests?”
“If there’s somewhere that has good soup, I’d love some,” Sam said, arranging the blanket over his lap one more time just to make it blindingly obvious.
“Put a sock on the door handle if you need more time to take care of that,” Dean threw over his shoulder as he closed the door. He grinned to himself when he heard Sam’s squawk of protest.
*****
The dinner Dean came back with wasn’t anything exciting, but at least he’d found soup as Sam had requested. Sam ate the passable beef and vegetable soup as he watched in mildly horrified fascination as Dean pushed the remains of his roast beef drippings around the plastic plate with the last of his dinner roll. He wiped it clean and stuffed the bread in his mouth. It wasn’t a pretty sight, Sam sighed as he thought he really ought to know better than to look at Dean while he ate by now.
“What?” Dean asked with a cheesy grin that showed some of the remains of his last bite.
Sam threw the last bit of his dinner roll at Dean, hitting him in the lips. “You’re gross.”
Dean grabbed up the whisky bottle and stood up from his chair, he ambled across the room to stand by the window, looking out at the parking lot through the sheer curtains. It was so warm in their room, Dean was down to wearing just a white t-shirt and Sam honestly couldn’t get enough of watching his brother move. He was graceful and powerful, and the way he held the bottle up to his lips made Sam nearly mad with desire. Sam pushed up from his chair and stood next to Dean as he drank deeply from the whisky bottle again.
“What?” Dean asked with the same cheesy grin, this time thankfully without any bits of food.
“When I see you do that thing with your lips, I can’t think straight,” Sam said, feeling his cheeks blush hot at just saying something like that out loud.
“You mean this?” Dean asked, curling his lips around the top of the whisky bottle, a little whisky slipped out and hit his white t-shirt.
Sam watched, eyes locked on to the way Dean’s lips tightened almost to white as he practically suckled at the bottle. He slapped Dean on the shoulder once the bottle came away from his lips. “Cut it out, now you’re just teasing.”
“So what if I am?” Dean asked, waggling his eyebrows.
“Gimme,” Sam said, grabbing for the bottle.
“You’re not going to overdo it again, right? It sucks when you’re hungover in the morning,” Dean said.
“Sucks for you or for me?” Sam asked, finally snatching the bottle away from Dean’s flailing hand. The whisky slopped onto the back of Dean’s hand, Sam held Dean’s hand up to his lips and licked it off, slow and thorough. Just as he finished he looked up into Dean’s astonished eyes, momentarily worried he’d gone too far, too fast, too whatever. But Dean’s eyes went dark with desire and need and Sam smiled, feasting on the energy between them. He drank deeply from the whisky bottle, as a way to change the subject, change the focus.
Dean was still silent and transfixed on Sam’s every movement like a predator Sam would normally be worried about and on guard from potential attack. Instead Sam let himself soak up the intense attention, it felt like a balm over some sore neglected parts deep inside himself he hadn’t realized were thirsty for whatever this was. Whatever it meant, he needed it and now he could admit to himself that he wanted it.
****
To Part 3