Word Count: 4039
Summary: After months of nonstop hunting Dean is crashing. Sam calls a halt for the night, and they find themselves in a most romantic setting. Will Sam take this opportunity to tell Dean how he really feels?
Disclaimer: Seriously I wished I owned them, if I did Dean would only ever wear one layer and that wonderful grin of his.
Warnings: Here be Wincest folks, so if it squicks don’t click!
Notes: Where do I start? Well I start with unending thanks to my gloriously awesome beta bigj52. The wonderful woman with the patience of a saint, who turns my scribbles into English. I promise the statue is coming. Thank you to milly_gal for having a read of this and letting me know if I captured the boys. Finally to my fl*st whose encouragement made this possible... looks like we're heading for special hell together *G*
Dean groaned softly he sat in the Impala outside the motel, he was exhausted and in pain. For the last couple of months, they had gone from one hunt to another without stopping. There had been countless salt and burns, poltergeists, more death omens, and a couple of non-vegetarian vamp nests. And all the time there was the unspoken threat from yellow eyes, and his ‘special kids’ hanging over their heads.
Dean knew he was crashing, running on empty. Their latest hunt had seen him and Sam going up against something with really fucking nasty claws. His back throbbed in time with his heart, reminding him of how the claws felt when they’d sliced him from shoulder to hip. Dean sat with his eyes closed, trying to make sure his game face was still in place, when all he really wanted was for it all to stop.
His eyes shot open when there was a knock at the window. He looked up and there was Sam waving a key at him. Crap, he must really be tired if he hadn’t heard Sasquatch clambering out of the car. He wearily pushed the door open, and dragged himself upright, gripping the door frame tightly, as he tried not to face plant, and give Sam another reason to bitchface at him. Sam still hadn’t forgiven him for getting between him and the fugly with the claws.
“Dude, you must really be out of it, I was knocking on the window for a couple of minutes. Although you looked so cute sitting there with your eyelashes fluttering, it was almost a shame to wake you.” Sam grinned as his brother scowled at him.
“I wasn’t sleeping; I was just resting my eyes.” Dean said gruffly, rubbing at his tired eyes.
Sam went to the trunk and grabbed their bags. He walked back to Dean, trying not to frown as Dean winced with pain as he stretched. Sam’d asked to stop. If it had been left up to Dean they would still be driving. Dean was pushing himself too hard and had been ever since their dad’s death. Well, tonight it stopped.
There were going to rest and regroup, no matter what his stubborn idiot of a brother thought. “Of course you were only resting your eyes. Come on then, Sleeping Beauty, your bed chamber awaits. By the way, do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Sam said over his shoulder, as he led the way across the parking lot.
Dean curled in on himself. Great! Just what he needed. More friggin’ bad news. He squared his shoulders and said in his best bring-it-on-bitch tone of voice, “How ‘bout a change of speed, and you hit me with the good news first.”
Sam came to a halt outside their room; he slid the key in the lock and turned to Dean. “Ok, the good news is we managed to get the last room in the motel. They’re full because there’s a convention for some sc-fi TV show in town.”
Dean shrugged. So they got the last room. He didn’t give a crap as long as it had beds and a shower. He walked past Sam into the room without turning on the light. “So what’s the bad news? The place is crawling with Trekkies. Well, as long as there are some hot alien priestesses running round the joint I’m good.”
Sam closed the door and grinned as he turned on the light. “Actually, the bad news is this is the bridal suite.”
Dean stood and gawped at the room. Everything was a lurid shade of pink, including the shiny heart confetti scattered over the gigantic bed that dominated the room. “Holy shit! It looks like Cupid puked in here. And what’s with the pink champagne and chocolates on the pillow?” He walked over to the bed, opened one of the chocolates, and popped it into his mouth. He savoured its sweetness as it melted on his tongue.
Sam put their bags down and looked round the candy coloured room. “It seems two of the attendees were supposed to get married at the convention. There were spending their wedding night here.” Sam picked up a plaster statue of cupid, looking at the slightly cross-eyed cherub. He shuddered and put it back, turning its back to the bed as its creepy assed expression freaked him out.
“How come the springs ain’t getting a workout then? Didn’t Darth Vader turn up to bless the wedding?” Dean snapped his fingers. “I got it. The bride caught her Captain Kirk boldly going somewhere, with one of the alien princesses.” Dean laughed as he sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing slightly to test the springs. He started to kick his boots off. Hell, it could be worse. It wouldn’t be the first time he and Sam had had to share a bed. He just hoped octo Sam would stay on his side of the bed, and not wrap himself round him like usual. Seriously, it was like trying to sleep with a furnace with abandonment issues.
Sam took his jacket off and dropped it on the chair; he watched Dean bouncing on the bed with a smile on his face. “According to the desk clerk, and I quote....Teyla, the blushin’ bride busted in on her Colonel John Sheppard, playing tonsil hockey with Specialist Ronon Dex. I hear she damn near beat the guy to death with his dreads. So the wedding’s off.”
Dean’s eyebrows shot up in shock. “Awkward! Although I always thought John gave Chewie some real friendly looks on SGA.” He grinned up at Sam and then yawned. “Ok, I’m beat. I’m gonna hit the head and get some shut-eye.” He pushed himself to his feet and slowly peeled off his leather jacket, biting back a groan as his back complained. He shuffled to the bathroom and closed the door. Suddenly there was a muffled, “Goddamnit, even the toilet is pink! Is nothing sacred?”
Sam shook his head laughing at his brother’s complaints; he wasn’t surprised Dean knew what Stargate Atlantis was. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, his brother was a geek. Sam sat on the edge of the bed and took his own boots off; he looked at the closed door and considered what was coming next.
Tonight was about more than just letting Dean get some rest. It was time for them to face the truth about their relationship, and yes, the irony of them being in the bridal suite wasn’t lost on him. For far too long they had danced around one another; Sam knew Dean’s feelings for him were more than just brotherly. He’d seen some of the looks Dean had given him, when he thought he wasn’t looking. His green eyes full of yearning for something he knew he shouldn’t want, something he couldn’t have.
But Sam wanted Dean back and had for a long time. His own feelings towards his brother had been part of the reason he’d given up hunting and gone to college. It was too hard being around Dean, and not be able to touch him how he wanted. Sam sighed, he knew the fucked up way they’d lived their lives were responsible for this.
Dad’s constant absences and his prime directive to his eldest son – ‘look after Sammy’ had meant that to Dean, Sam was the centre of his world. Sam knew being loved by Dean was like being in the eye of a hurricane. It was the calm at the centre of the storm, with the rest of the world spinning chaotically around them. When Dean gave his heart he gave it unconditionally. Sam was often stunned by the lengths Dean would go to keep him safe, but Dean couldn’t understand that he would do exactly the same for him.
Before he’d gone away to Stanford, Sam had reached out to Dean on his eighteenth birthday. His big brother had taken Sam out, and gotten him drunk as a present. With the beer buzz pumping through his veins, Sam had taken his courage in both hands. He’d pulled Dean close and before he could tell himself this was a bad idea, he’d kissed Dean. It had been everything he’d ever wanted, feeling those plush lips against his, holding Dean’s firm body in his arms.
Then wonder of wonders, Dean had kissed him back, and then Dean came to his senses and pushed him away. He’d wiped his mouth, looking horrified. Every wall he had was gone, and Sam sobered at the devastation his drunken kiss had wrought. Because for a few precious moments Dean had let himself have what he wanted, and now he was disgusted with himself.
Dean had driven back to the motel and Dad in silence. Shortly after that night Dean worked his way through the cheerleading squad at Sam’s high school, as he tried to prove to himself he was a red-blooded male, and he became more reckless on hunts.
It came to a head when Dean let himself be used as bait on a hunt for a Succubus. Sam had had to sit beside Dean’s bed when he nearly died after it fed on him. He’d watched as, half out of his mind with the Succubus’ venom, Dad tied Dean to the bed to stop him going to the creature that held him enthralled.
They’d been unable to stop Dean ripping the skin from his wrists and ankles as he tried to escape his bonds. When Dad had gone after the evil bitch, Sam waited helplessly as the fever burned through Dean’s body, unable to block out his cries of pain.
Once Dad had killed it, they bundled Dean into the car and drove away, heading for their next hunt. It was then Sam decided for both their sakes he had to get away, or Dean would wind up getting himself killed. There was no way he could live with that, and so he’d run away to college and a ‘normal’ life.
Now he was sitting in a bridal suite, planning to seduce his brother. And just how fucked up was that? But he refused to deny the way he felt any longer; he’d come to close to losing Dean too many times now. It was time to stop running and take a stand.
The bathroom door opened and Dean stepped out, he looked worn down. He was pale and there were dark rings round his eyes, and his broad shoulders were taut with tension. Sam knew he was being crushed by the weight of the burdens he and Dad had heaped onto him. Now it was time for him to take care of Dean, to try and shoulder some of that suffocating weight.
Sam stood up and walked over to him, there must’ve been something in his eyes because Dean looked ready to bolt. Sam took hold of his arms and pulled him towards the centre of the room. Dean’s eyes darted around nervously. “Sam, I know we’re in the bridal suite, but you need to lay off the goods.” He blushed and rubbed at the back of his neck.
Sam smiled and stepped back. “Relax. Your virtue is safe with me. I just want to check your back. You don’t want another infection, do you?” Sam walked towards his bag and the first-aid kit; he glanced back and saw Dean relax as he moved away. He’d soon be up close and personal with his brother. “Hey, Dean, you need to take your shirts off. I can’t check the scratches with them on.”
Dean stiffened. What the hell was Sam up to? Perhaps all the hearts and flowers crap was affecting that freaky brain of his. He considered telling Sam he was fine, then grabbing his coat and heading for the nearest bar. He would find a willing waitress and stay out all night, anything rather than have Sam figure out just what kind of sicko he was for wanting his brother the way he did.
Suddenly Sam was in his face, looming over him. He licked his lips. Crap! How big had the kid gotten? Since he’d been back hunting, Sam was starting to pack on the muscle. He’d noticed it the last time Sam walked into the room in nothing but a towel. Sam stood there looking like one of his wet dreams come true, his skin glistening with moisture as water trickled down his body. All he’d wanted to do was to lick the water off the six-pack Sam now sported; Dean snapped himself out of his reverie and tried to make a break for the door.
Sam was aware of Dean’s silent freakout, he’d seen the way he’d tracked him round the room. The slightly disappointed look when he said Dean’s virtue was safe with him. Now being this close had induced Dean’s fight or flight instinct, and he was getting ready to run. Sam rested his hand over Dean’s heart and felt the way it was racing. Dean’s cheeks were flushed and his lips shone where he’d licked them. “I said, take your shirts off.” Sam’s voice was low and filled with authority.
The tone had the desired effect, and Dean lifted shaking hands and began to unfasten his plaid shirt. His downcast face was bright red, with a mixture of shame and arousal.
Sam moved behind his brother and watched as he slipped the shirt off, enjoying the movement of Dean’s broad shoulders. Then he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it up over his body. Dean swayed and hissed as the scratches on his back pulled. Sam reached out and rested a large hand on Dean’s hip. He moved his thumb back and forth over the curve of the bone. “It’s alright. Come on, breathe, that’s it,” he said as Dean took a shaky breath.
Sam got even closer, close enough that his breath stirred the short hairs on the back of Dean’s neck. Sam felt his brother shiver, and goose bumps appeared. “I’m just going to take the dressing off, and check how the scratches are looking.” Sam pulled at the surgical tape and peeled back the dressing, lightly running his fingers down Dean’s broad back. He gently traced a line alongside the jagged wounds gouged into Dean’s smooth skin. There were going to be more reminders of his brother’s devotion to him when they’d healed.
He continued with his gentle examination, checking for infection and seeing if the stitches were holding. As he trailed his long fingers across freckled skin, he traced the ridge of another scar. A black dog had left that one, and the one that followed the curve of Dean’s ribs. That one had happened when Dean had been thrown through a window by a ghost.
Dean’s body told the story of their lives; their triumphs were etched into his skin like trophies. He also bore the scars of their losses and heartache; Dean carried those locked away behind high walls and a cocky manner. All the fights between him and Dad when Dean had played peacemaker, all the times he’d kept their little family safe. They were all there branded onto his battered heart.
Sam heard Dean’s breathing speed up. For a man who hated chick flick moments and any form of physical contact, Dean was very tactile. Dean learned the world through touch, and right now Sam was giving his brother a lesson in how he felt about him. He slid his arm round his brother’s waist, splaying his hand on Dean’s belly, gently stroking his warm skin. Fine downy hairs brushed his hand, as he toyed with the waistband of his brother’s jeans.
Dean’s breathing hitched as Sam bent his head closer and gently blew on the junction between his neck and shoulder. Dean’s eyelids fluttered and he whimpered softly, “Sammy.”
Sam smiled and carefully re-covered the scratches with the dressing, and then he wrapped his arms around Dean and pulled him close. His rapidly hardening cock ground against his brother’s pert ass as Dean pushed back into him.
Sam took the move as permission to finally give into temptation as he placed the gentlest of kisses on Dean’s shoulder. As Sam sucked gently he savoured the taste - a heady combination of the tang of cheap motel shower gel, sweat and something indefinably Dean. It was a taste Sam could become addicted to very quickly.
Dean melted against him, a soft sigh escaping as Sam continued to caress and kiss him. Sam fastened his lips to Dean’s pulse, and its rapid beat fluttered against his tongue. He couldn’t help himself, he sucked harder. He wanted to have a reminder of this moment when they took this final step together.
Dean suddenly tensed in his arms and began to pull away, fighting hard to get out of Sam’s arms. Sam was impressed it had taken this long for Dean to freak out; he wrapped his arms tighter around him and waited for him to stop fighting. “Stop that, you’ll hurt yourself again. If you don’t want this tell me now, and I’ll stop. But I think we both want this. Please, Dean, why can’t we have this?” Sam rested his head on his brother’s shoulder.
When Dean had come out of the bathroom he’d known something was going to happen; he’d seen it in Sam’s eyes. This was his fault; he should’ve just gotten out the room but he’d been weak. He’d let Sam get close, close enough to breech defences too battered to withstand another attack. Now he was damning his brother. How the fuck could he do that to Sam?
But there was a part of him that wanted Sam so much, and tonight he was too tired to keep fighting. God help him, he’d wanted to feel those gigantic hands on his body, and Sam was always so gentle when he touched him. If Sam only knew that gentleness was slowly breaking him apart, he’d never want to touch him again. Then Sam had pulled him close, and held him in his arms with the heat from his body burning against his back. For a moment it had been fucking wonderful, he’d felt loved and wanted, and he’d sunk into that warm embrace, giving himself over to his little brother’s talented mouth.
It was then Dean had crashed back to reality. This was his little brother, the kid he’d raised. What the fuck was he doing to Sam? He had to stop this; he was the sick one, not Sam. When he’d tried to pull away Sam had held on tighter, then Sam had spoken and the world turned on its head.
Dean turned in the circle of Sam’s arms and looked up at him; his green eyes were filled with pain and shame. How could he say yes to this? He was going to tell Sam no, then he was packing the kid off to Bobby and he’d hunt solo. With a bit of luck he’d find something dangerous enough to end him, and Sam would be rid of him.
Dean was just about to open his mouth, when Sam spoke. “I know what you’re gonna say. This is wrong, it’s sick, we shouldn’t do it. I’ve been there, done that and I’m thinking of having the T-shirt printed. Dean, whatever you say it won’t change the way I feel about you, but if you think you’re gonna dump me on Bobby so you can slink off and get yourself killed, you can think again. We’re in this together and I swear I will hunt your ass down. And if I have to I’ll cuff myself to you. Do you hear me?” Sam’s eyes glittered with determination.
Dean managed a shaky laugh. He was faced with Sam out to get what he wanted; he was screwed and he knew it. Once Sammy had set his mind on something, nothing would get in his way. That included pesky moral and religious taboos about screwing your brother. He quirked an eyebrow. “I never knew you were a kinky bitch. Handcuffing yourself to me? Does that mean you’re gonna spank my ass if I don’t behave?” He smirked at Sam and then gave in to the inevitable, reaching up and tangling his fingers in his brother’s over-long hair. He pulled Sam down and crashed their lips together.
Sam’s brain short circuited as Dean kissed him, his plush lips parted and his tongue darted out, sweeping over Sam’s lips, demanding entrance. Sam willingly allowed Dean to lead the kiss; it embodied everything his brother was. It was fiery, passionate, and filled with love and, as they kissed Sam felt his brother lean against him. Dean wrapped his arms around him and deepened the kiss, finally they had to part. They stood together panting, their foreheads touching. Finally Sam found his voice. “Holy shit, Dean.”
Dean blushed and smiled. “What you so surprised about? I’ve been practicing for years.” He sobered and looked at Sam. “Now what, Sam? You really think there is a future for us? This ain’t exactly normal; we’re brothers, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Sam leant forward and whispered in Dean’s ear, “We’re Winchesters. Since when have we ever done normal? Whether you like it or not Dean, I love you. And I fight for what I love; I’m going to fight every day to prove to you how I feel. Now how do you feel about trying out that big-assed bed? It seems a shame to let all this romance go to waste.”
Dean rolled his eyes and gave a heartfelt sigh. “Ahh shit, you’re gonna be an even bigger girl now, ain’t you?” He moaned softly as Sam’s hands moved down his body and squeezed his ass as Sam attacked his neck like it was a prime piece of steak.
Sam pressed Dean against him and rhythmically ground his dick against Dean’s. Dean gasped as he rocked against him, the power of his thrusts sending shivers down his spine. As Sam scratched his blunt nails over his nipples, Dean growled, “Fuck me, Sam.”
Sam lifted his head and gave his brother a lascivious grin. “Don’t worry. I intend to, but first I want to lay you on that bed and kiss every inch of you. Is that girly enough for you?” He dipped forward and latched onto one of Dean’s nipples. He sucked at the tight nub, his teeth grazing the tender flesh as Dean shivered in his arms, his knees buckling as Sam cupped his dick though his jeans.
Sam wrapped his arm around Dean’s broad shoulders and slipped the other behind his knees. As he lifted his brother, Dean gave an indignant squeak. “Don’t worry, princess, I won’t drop you. I want you fit and well when I fuck you through the mattress.”
Dean scowled at Sam. “Who’s fucking who, here?” His words died as Sam kissed him, pulling his full bottom lip into his mouth and sucking on it. The he slid his tongue inside the hot wet cavern of Dean’s mouth, flicking it in and out until Dean sucked greedily on it.
They reached the bed and Sam carefully laid Dean on it, being careful of his back. He stood back and stripped off his shirts. He saw Dean watching him hungrily. “On reflection, I’m injured. Perhaps I should let you do the honours this time.”
Sam grinned and climbed onto the bed beside Dean. He pulled him into his arms and gently stroked along his side. “Did I mention we got this room until the end of the week? Think you can stand all the romance?” He cupped Dean’s face and traced the freckles on his cheek.
Dean hummed softly at the gentle touch, leaning into it with a sigh of contentment. “I suppose if it keeps you happy I can put up with it.” Dean licked his lips and looked longingly at the pillow. “I don’t suppose there are any more of those chocolates, are there?” Dean asked hopefully as Sam laughed and pulled him closer.