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Entry tags:
The Longer the Waiting (The Sweeter The Kiss), Sam/Dean, NC17, 2/3
Author: 
runedgirl
Artist:stargazingchola
Rating: Explicit (Adult)
Word Count: 12,280
Warnings/Spoilers: Current canon up to 13.22
A/N: For
wincestbigbang. So awesome collaborating with such a talented artist, and thanks to Gail for the beta!
Summary: After Sam dies in the tunnels and Lucifer brings him back, the brothers’ relief at being reunited unexpectedly leads to frantic, adrenaline-fueled making out in the bunker. When Mary sees them, the boys are devastated, vowing to never let it happen again. But how will their decision affect the bond they depend on to keep them alive?
PART TWO
Neither of them leave their rooms, so when it’s 9 am the next morning and everyone is yelling for them to join the group for breakfast, it’s a toss up as to whether it’s more awkward to see their mother or each other.
Mary avoids their eyes, busies herself with flipping bacon and serving it up piled high on a plate. Sam sits at one end of the big table, Dean sits at another. They’re both good actors; they answer people’s questions and don’t act strange enough to kick up anyone’s suspicions.
Dean wonders if Sam hates him now; Sam wonders the same.
Charlie makes a joke about Rowena and Sam getting together, and Dean jerks his head up for the first time and looks in Sam’s direction. He finds his brother staring back, not a hint of humor in his expression.
“Well don’t jump up and down or anything,” Rowena complains. “There are plenty of other fish in the sea, Samuel. Though I do appreciate a…large…man…”
Sam swallows hard and looks at Dean for a second before dropping his gaze and stuttering out an attempt at a joke. When he looks up again, Mary and Dean are both looking down.
When Bobby asks for a volunteer to show him around the area, Mary jumps up so quickly that Bobby looks taken aback; that quickly morphs into a pleased smile.
Rowena and Charlie disappear half arguing half laughing about the benefits of being ginger, and Ketch disappears to god knows where.
Dean suggests a supply run – with Castiel.
Eventually it’s only Sam and Jack at the table.
“Are you and Dean – fighting?”
Jack looks concerned. It would be touching if it weren’t for the reason Jack is sensing tension between them.
“No, we’re fine,” Sam lies.
Jack frowns. “It doesn’t seem like it.”
“We’ll work it out,” Sam tries instead. He hopes he’s not lying about that part.
That seems to appease Jack. “Good,” he says, looking relieved. “You and Dean are special.”
Sam should probably not ask, but he’s curious how Jack sees them, and he knows Jack won’t lie.
“What do you mean, Jack?”
Jack ponders for a minute, then smiles at Sam. “You love each other, and that’s where your strength comes from.”
Jack is wise beyond his years, Sam thinks. He also knows he’s going to have to talk to his brother before the tension Jack is sensing gets the better of both of them.
On their way to town, Castiel doesn’t wait more than a few minutes before he questions Dean about the same thing.
“You and Sam had an argument?”
“No!” Dean snaps, and so Cas knows that Dean and Sam had an argument.
“You only respond that way when what I’ve asked is true and you don’t want me to know it.”
For all his naivete about human emotions, Cas is a perceptive sonofabitch.
“Leave it, Cas.” Dean hopes he sounds serious. And sufficiently threatening.
“I will not leave it,” Cas insists. “You and Sam are a team, and you work better together. We don’t know how long Lucifer will be held in the AU or if Michael will figure a way over here. We need you and Sam at your best.”
He’s right, but Dean grumbles anyway. “I said leave it – it’s personal.”
Castiel shrugs. “I’m sure it is. Figure it out anyway. You can’t avoid looking at each other forever. It’s…inefficient.”
Damn angels and their powers of perception.
He’s going to need to talk to Sam; the thought makes his stomach turn over.
Even worse, eventually he’s going to need to talk to his mother.
Sam is at the library table when Dean and Castiel come back with supplies, which took them the better part of an entire day. Sam looks up and Dean immediately looks away.
“Hello Sam,” Cas says as they come down the stairs. “I believe Dean has something to talk to you about.”
Dean whirls on Cas. “What the hell, Cas?! I said stay out of it!”
Cas shrugs, unconcerned. “And I said that you and your brother need to work this out.”
And with that, Cas is gone, taking the bags of supplies with him.
Dean stands there awkwardly, shuffling his feet back and forth. He’s not at all sure he wants to hear what Sam has to say, and god knows he can’t think of a single thing to say himself that will make this mess better.
“Take a walk with me?” Sam asks, and that’s not what Dean was expecting. He’s surprised into looking up, and finds Sam looking back at him. There’s trepidation in his expression, and Dean’s stomach does an uncomfortable flip.
Sam’s right though, they can’t talk about this here, with so many people in and out.
“Yeah,” Dean says, and starts back up the stairs. Sam follows.
Nobody says anything, by unspoken mutual agreement, until they’re a good half mile away from the bunker.
Sam rehearses what he should say, gears himself up for it, and then keeps walking. Dean sneaks glances at him from time to time, but says nothing. It’s a beautiful day, 70 degrees and puffy white clouds dotting the blue sky. They keep to the path, and Sam finally stops in the shade of some tall trees. Dean pauses too, but doesn’t look at Sam.
“Should I apologize?” Sam asks.
He hates the way it comes out, tentative and frightened. He mostly knows that Dean would never say yes to a question like that; if anything he’s blaming himself for what happened.
Dean still doesn’t look at him; Sam wonders if this is the new normal.
Dean wants to just say no, of course not. He wants to say forget it, it was adrenaline, we lost our minds, it happens. (Sure it does, brothers lose their minds and fall into passionate kisses from an adrenaline rush all the time). He wants to make this all go away, so that he can swear up and down to his mother that it was a fluke, that it didn’t mean anything.
“Are you sorry?”
It’s not what Dean wanted to say. But it’s what he wants to know.
Sam’s intake of breath is audible. There’s a very long pause, or at least it seems very long to Dean. When Sam finally does answer, it’s so softly spoken that Dean’s not sure he heard it at all.
“No.”
Dean’s heart starts tripping stupidly, butterflies making his stomach tremble. He dares to cast a sideways glance at his brother’s face.
Sam feels it, of course he does, and glances back. He swallows hard, steels himself so he won’t take it back.
“No,” he says again more loudly.
This time Dean hears it. His mouth falls open and his eyes widen, and then he swallows hard.
“Are you?” Sam asks. “Are you sorry?”
Dean doesn’t hesitate this time; he shakes his head, still holding Sam’s gaze.
Sam feels that stupid smile that got them into this mess in the first place threatening to break free. Dean isn’t sorry.
Dean grins back, looking about ten years old. Sam wants very badly to kiss him again. His eyes fall to Dean’s mouth, those full lips that he remembers tasting.
“Not here,” Dean says, and it comes out breathy, betraying more emotion than Dean probably wants it to.
“I wasn’t going to,” Sam protests, and they’re both still smiling.
“Yes you were,” Dean teases, and he reaches out to slap Sam on the arm or something, then pulls his hand back quickly. It’s a new thing between them, this attraction that feels like a magnetic force. Sam wonders what would have happened if Dean hadn’t pulled back, if a simple touch would have created that energy vortex that consumed their sanity last time and left them so desperate for each other they forgot where they were and who might be watching.
“Jerk,” Sam says instead.
Dean grins wider. “Bitch.”
“So we’re really gonna do this?” Sam asks, because he can’t leave well enough alone and he’s still not sure what they’re talking about. He feels like every fourteen year old who’s about to go on a first date and doesn’t know the rules. Are there rules for what you can do with your brother who you want very badly to slam up against the nearest tree and kiss senseless?
Dean’s smile falters a little. “If you want,” he says, waiting for Sam to decide.
“Only if you do too.”
Dean lets his eyes drop to Sam’s mouth this time, and Sam feels it like someone has just given his dick a squeeze. “Yeah,” he says, that same gruffness to his voice that is already taking on a new significance in Sam’s brain.
“What about mom?”
It slips out before Sam can stop it.
Dean takes a step back, scrubs his hand through his hair.
What about mom? Is this something they can hide, when all Mary’s hunter instincts will be focused on finding corroboration of what she’s already seen with her own eyes?
“I don’t know,” Dean admits.
They’re silent for a while, both of them staring off into the distance, trying in vain to imagine a world where they could be something more than brothers and still have their mother’s love.
“I know you,” Sam finally says, and he does not want to say the next thing that he knows he has to. “You won’t be able to take the guilt of this – of mom leaving. Of mom not being here. You could deal with her not being here for you, but for me? I don’t know if you can stand to see that, if she rejects me.”
Dean looks like he’s been punched in the stomach, and that lets Sam know just how right he is.
“What are you saying?” Dean asks, and his voice is small this time. He doesn’t want to hear Sam’s answer any more than Sam wants to say it.
“Maybe we shouldn’t.”
Dean flinches and looks away.
“Don’t misunderstand me, Dean – I want to. God, I want to with all of me, so bad I can’t even tell you. But I love you, and I don’t want you to be hurting. To be guilty, or worrying all the time, or feel responsible. So maybe we shouldn’t.”
Sam can see the moment that Dean decides. He squares his shoulders, stands a little straighter, before he turns back to his brother.
“Okay,” he says, and Sam realizes in that second how much he didn’t want Dean to agree with him.
“Okay,” he echoes, and they turn toward home without another word.
Sam tells himself that it’s for the best, that they’re doing the right thing. I mean, of course they’re doing the right thing. He tries to steal glances at Dean when his brother’s not looking. Dean’s shoulders are rigid, determinedly not slumping; not giving away anything. That’s how Sam knows that Dean is as upset as he is.
Dean tells himself that he was a fool to ever hold out any hope for something so wrong. That he’s grateful to Sam for his level-headedness. He keeps thinking how unselfish Sam is, how all his concern was for Dean and how Dean could never have handled this. He’s pretty sure Sam is right; and desperately wants Sam to be wrong.
Jack and Castiel both stare at them with disapproval when they walk down the stairs. Mary is there too, and her look is harder to bear. She looks at them like she doesn’t know who they are; like maybe there’s no way they really are the little boys who she knew and loved. Like maybe this confirms all her worst suspicions, validates the reasons she was never able to love them unconditionally when she came back like those little boys she lost. Maybe she knew all along, that they grew up wrong.
“Stop it,” Sam whispers. They’re halfway down the stairs. Dean is ridiculously glad that Sam can still read him, like always. That Sam is still his brother.
“Shut up,” he shoots back, and he knows without looking that Sam is smiling.
They take Jack on patrols with them that week, Castiel joining in to make their foursome efficient at ridding the world of what monsters they can find. Sam and Dean work almost as seamlessly as ever, sense memory kicking in, and even Cas doesn’t notice that they’re not as smooth as usual. They both work extra hard to stay attuned to each other, even though it feels like an effort in a way it never has before.
Near the end of the week, they take out four werewolves who were killing campers, without a scratch on any of them, and head back to the bunker. Jack is practically bouncing, elated that he’s finally able to be truly helpful, and even Castiel is almost smiling, part way back to his badass angel self.
They share beers across the library table, and Dean knocks his boot against Sam’s under the table and smiles at his brother.
“That!” Jack bursts out, and they all turn to him, perplexed.
“That’s the look that you give Sam and Sam gives you that isn’t like anyone else – and I miss it!”
Dean yanks his foot away so fast that he nearly unbalances himself and falls over. Both Winchesters take a gulp of beer to hide the way their faces are flushed.
“So, good job taking out that werewolf,” Dean says after a pause in the conversation.
Jack frowns. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, no, of course not,” Sam and Dean say at the same time. Jack frowns more deeply. A moment later, Castiel joins him.
“If there’s still something…” Jack starts to say, and Dean gets up from the table abruptly. He turns around to say goodnight, but he doesn’t look at Sam when he says it.
Dean sits on the edge of his bed for a long time that night. Stupid, it was stupid, thinking they could go back to being the way they were before. That he could play footsie with Sam under the table and it would just be to annoy him, a big brother torment like he’d been doing to Sam since he was too young to run away from it. That he could see Sam smile at him like that and not think about that night in the hallway, Sam’s happiness overflowing and lighting Dean up with a joy of his own, Sam’s mouth rough and insistent and Sam’s big hand cupping his face.
Has it always been obvious to other people, the way it is between them? Or is it different now, now that they took the lid off this thing between them and let it go from sparks to a flame. It feels impossible to snuff out now, to put back in whatever container they had each managed to construct for it and extinguish the sparks whenever they threatened to ignite. Dean’s not sure you can put the toothpaste back in the tube; so far, he’s failing miserably.
They’re both surly and scruffy the next day, puffy under the eyes and avoiding each other as they pack up for another hunt.
This one isn’t quite as successful. Jack ends up with a stomach slashed by claws, and Cas loses his footing and falls down an ancient wooden staircase and lands wrong. Sam and Dean still manage to take the thing out, but nobody is happy on the walk back to the car, which is more limp and less walk for most of them. Sam supports Jack and Dean supports Cas and they’ll both heal faster than a human would, but there’s no exhilaration this time.
It feels more familiar than the recent unexpected successes. Dean just wants a beer and a shower and to forget that they’re living on borrowed time, waiting for the day that Michael finds a way to open that portal and invade their world. And to forget that he’s still thinking about kissing his brother every time he turns out the lights and lies down at night.
“Would you mind fixing me a cup of that herbal tea we bought the other day?”
Castiel rarely asks Dean to do such things; he must be even more sore than he’s letting on. Cas settles himself on the bed in one of the bunker’s guest rooms – the one he sort of calls his own, though he rarely needs to actually be in it.
“Sure Cas, no problem.”
Sam insists on dabbing some antiseptic on Jack’s wounds when Jack is settled in his own bed, though they’re already starting to heal.
“You know what I’d really like?” Jack asks, and Sam pauses to brush the hair out of his eyes. Sometimes Jack really does feel like a kid. Their kid.
“Some of that tea that Castiel got on the supply run the other day. He says it helps you rest and heal.”
Jack doesn’t ask for much; Sam thinks he must be more shaken up than he’s letting on.
“Sure, no problem. I’ll bring it to you, you just lie down and rest, okay?”
Sam’s glad for the chance to be helpful. He closes the first aid kit, thinks about all the times he’s stitched Dean up and wonders if Dean will ever let him get that close again. The thought hurts more than he expects it to.
Sam walks into the kitchen to find Dean already there, the old 1950s kettle the Men of Letters left behind well on its way to bubbling. Dean is standing on the step ladder they use to reach the highest of the floor-to-ceiling shelves that line the bunker’s kitchen, stretching to reach something on the top of the storage shelves. His tee shirt has pulled up to expose a thin strip of skin above the waist of his jeans, and the position accentuates his broad shoulders and the taper of rib cage to slim hips. Sam swallows hard.
He's still staring when the step ladder Dean is standing on suddenly starts to wobble violently.
“What the fuck,” Dean swears, and then the ladder goes right out from under him. He falls backwards and Sam sees it happen in slow motion, Dean’s arms pinwheeling, searching for something to grab onto.
Sam moves on instinct, no thought needed, and Dean falls right into his arms.
He looks up with a stunned expression, eyes big and green and so damn pretty.
“S-Sam?”
For a second, Sam can’t even say anything. Dean’s right there, in his arms, looking up at him, and his lips are glossy and full and utterly inviting.
Time stands still as the Winchesters stare at each other. Dean is keenly aware that he’s in a ridiculous position, that his brother is practically bridal carrying him in their kitchen. He can feel the strength in Sam’s arms as they hold him up, and the knowledge that Sam was right there to catch him when he falls – not even a metaphor – brings a warmth that makes him want to do something very stupid.
Sam looks like he wants to do the same very stupid thing.
“Uh, you okay?” Sam finally asks.
It breaks the spell, and Dean wriggles out of Sam’s arms because that’s what’s expected. He’s the big brother, for godsakes. That doesn’t explain why Sam holding him felt so damn good, of course.
“I’m fine, I just – I don’t know what happened, the ladder just got shaky all of a sudden.”
Sam nods. “Yeah, I saw it. It was….kinda weird.”
Dean frowns. “I guess I lost my balance? Or something.”
“What were you looking for up there?”
Dean sighs, put upon. “Cas wanted some of that herbal tea we got today. No clue why he put it up so high if he was gonna want to drink it right away.”
“Huh. Jack just asked me to make him a cup of that same tea. Just now.”
Dean’s eyebrows draw together, and then he rolls his eyes. Sam figures it out at the same time.
“Oh for godsakes, really? What, is this like some kind of relationship intervention? I’m gonna kick that kid’s ass for knocking me off a goddamn ladder. What if you didn’t catch me?”
Sam snorts. “Pretty sure he knew I would.”
Sam is suddenly very tired. All the worrying and longing and thinking about what it felt like to kiss Dean while trying not to think about what it felt like to kiss Dean are wearing him out. He sits down at the kitchen table and pushes his hair out of his eyes.
Dean immediately sits down beside him. “You okay?”
No matter what else is going on between them, Sam knows that Dean will always be his big brother. That concern is hard wired into him, and right now Sam is kinda glad. He isn’t the one who almost took a header in their kitchen, but he’s also not okay.
“Not really.”
Dean sighs and goes over to the stove to turn the kettle to simmer. He sits down across from Sam and scrubs his hand through his hair. The spikes stand up, lopsided and adorable.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Sam admits.
He can see Dean absorb the words, the way he blinks a few times, sets his jaw before he answers carefully.
“So what, you wanna leave?”
It’s such a Dean thing to assume; no matter how many times Sam swears up and down that he is not leaving, Dean will never entirely believe it.
Dean is easy to read. He blinks again, tries to keep his breathing steady to disguise the way he exhales shakily. Relief loosens his shoulders as he looks up at Sam.
“What then?”
Sam hesitates. This sucks, there’s no doubt about that. But the alternative isn’t exactly a walk in the park.
“Will the world come to an end if we kissed again?”
The corner of Dean’s mouth turns up just slightly.
“I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Should we find out?”
Dean shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Probably not. But that never stops us anyway.”
Part Three
runedgirlArtist:
stargazingcholaRating: Explicit (Adult)
Word Count: 12,280
Warnings/Spoilers: Current canon up to 13.22
A/N: For
wincestbigbang. So awesome collaborating with such a talented artist, and thanks to Gail for the beta!Summary: After Sam dies in the tunnels and Lucifer brings him back, the brothers’ relief at being reunited unexpectedly leads to frantic, adrenaline-fueled making out in the bunker. When Mary sees them, the boys are devastated, vowing to never let it happen again. But how will their decision affect the bond they depend on to keep them alive?
PART TWO
Neither of them leave their rooms, so when it’s 9 am the next morning and everyone is yelling for them to join the group for breakfast, it’s a toss up as to whether it’s more awkward to see their mother or each other.
Mary avoids their eyes, busies herself with flipping bacon and serving it up piled high on a plate. Sam sits at one end of the big table, Dean sits at another. They’re both good actors; they answer people’s questions and don’t act strange enough to kick up anyone’s suspicions.
Dean wonders if Sam hates him now; Sam wonders the same.
Charlie makes a joke about Rowena and Sam getting together, and Dean jerks his head up for the first time and looks in Sam’s direction. He finds his brother staring back, not a hint of humor in his expression.
“Well don’t jump up and down or anything,” Rowena complains. “There are plenty of other fish in the sea, Samuel. Though I do appreciate a…large…man…”
Sam swallows hard and looks at Dean for a second before dropping his gaze and stuttering out an attempt at a joke. When he looks up again, Mary and Dean are both looking down.
When Bobby asks for a volunteer to show him around the area, Mary jumps up so quickly that Bobby looks taken aback; that quickly morphs into a pleased smile.
Rowena and Charlie disappear half arguing half laughing about the benefits of being ginger, and Ketch disappears to god knows where.
Dean suggests a supply run – with Castiel.
Eventually it’s only Sam and Jack at the table.
“Are you and Dean – fighting?”
Jack looks concerned. It would be touching if it weren’t for the reason Jack is sensing tension between them.
“No, we’re fine,” Sam lies.
Jack frowns. “It doesn’t seem like it.”
“We’ll work it out,” Sam tries instead. He hopes he’s not lying about that part.
That seems to appease Jack. “Good,” he says, looking relieved. “You and Dean are special.”
Sam should probably not ask, but he’s curious how Jack sees them, and he knows Jack won’t lie.
“What do you mean, Jack?”
Jack ponders for a minute, then smiles at Sam. “You love each other, and that’s where your strength comes from.”
Jack is wise beyond his years, Sam thinks. He also knows he’s going to have to talk to his brother before the tension Jack is sensing gets the better of both of them.
On their way to town, Castiel doesn’t wait more than a few minutes before he questions Dean about the same thing.
“You and Sam had an argument?”
“No!” Dean snaps, and so Cas knows that Dean and Sam had an argument.
“You only respond that way when what I’ve asked is true and you don’t want me to know it.”
For all his naivete about human emotions, Cas is a perceptive sonofabitch.
“Leave it, Cas.” Dean hopes he sounds serious. And sufficiently threatening.
“I will not leave it,” Cas insists. “You and Sam are a team, and you work better together. We don’t know how long Lucifer will be held in the AU or if Michael will figure a way over here. We need you and Sam at your best.”
He’s right, but Dean grumbles anyway. “I said leave it – it’s personal.”
Castiel shrugs. “I’m sure it is. Figure it out anyway. You can’t avoid looking at each other forever. It’s…inefficient.”
Damn angels and their powers of perception.
He’s going to need to talk to Sam; the thought makes his stomach turn over.
Even worse, eventually he’s going to need to talk to his mother.
Sam is at the library table when Dean and Castiel come back with supplies, which took them the better part of an entire day. Sam looks up and Dean immediately looks away.
“Hello Sam,” Cas says as they come down the stairs. “I believe Dean has something to talk to you about.”
Dean whirls on Cas. “What the hell, Cas?! I said stay out of it!”
Cas shrugs, unconcerned. “And I said that you and your brother need to work this out.”
And with that, Cas is gone, taking the bags of supplies with him.
Dean stands there awkwardly, shuffling his feet back and forth. He’s not at all sure he wants to hear what Sam has to say, and god knows he can’t think of a single thing to say himself that will make this mess better.
“Take a walk with me?” Sam asks, and that’s not what Dean was expecting. He’s surprised into looking up, and finds Sam looking back at him. There’s trepidation in his expression, and Dean’s stomach does an uncomfortable flip.
Sam’s right though, they can’t talk about this here, with so many people in and out.
“Yeah,” Dean says, and starts back up the stairs. Sam follows.
Nobody says anything, by unspoken mutual agreement, until they’re a good half mile away from the bunker.
Sam rehearses what he should say, gears himself up for it, and then keeps walking. Dean sneaks glances at him from time to time, but says nothing. It’s a beautiful day, 70 degrees and puffy white clouds dotting the blue sky. They keep to the path, and Sam finally stops in the shade of some tall trees. Dean pauses too, but doesn’t look at Sam.
“Should I apologize?” Sam asks.
He hates the way it comes out, tentative and frightened. He mostly knows that Dean would never say yes to a question like that; if anything he’s blaming himself for what happened.
Dean still doesn’t look at him; Sam wonders if this is the new normal.
Dean wants to just say no, of course not. He wants to say forget it, it was adrenaline, we lost our minds, it happens. (Sure it does, brothers lose their minds and fall into passionate kisses from an adrenaline rush all the time). He wants to make this all go away, so that he can swear up and down to his mother that it was a fluke, that it didn’t mean anything.
“Are you sorry?”
It’s not what Dean wanted to say. But it’s what he wants to know.
Sam’s intake of breath is audible. There’s a very long pause, or at least it seems very long to Dean. When Sam finally does answer, it’s so softly spoken that Dean’s not sure he heard it at all.
“No.”
Dean’s heart starts tripping stupidly, butterflies making his stomach tremble. He dares to cast a sideways glance at his brother’s face.
Sam feels it, of course he does, and glances back. He swallows hard, steels himself so he won’t take it back.
“No,” he says again more loudly.
This time Dean hears it. His mouth falls open and his eyes widen, and then he swallows hard.
“Are you?” Sam asks. “Are you sorry?”
Dean doesn’t hesitate this time; he shakes his head, still holding Sam’s gaze.
Sam feels that stupid smile that got them into this mess in the first place threatening to break free. Dean isn’t sorry.
Dean grins back, looking about ten years old. Sam wants very badly to kiss him again. His eyes fall to Dean’s mouth, those full lips that he remembers tasting.
“Not here,” Dean says, and it comes out breathy, betraying more emotion than Dean probably wants it to.
“I wasn’t going to,” Sam protests, and they’re both still smiling.
“Yes you were,” Dean teases, and he reaches out to slap Sam on the arm or something, then pulls his hand back quickly. It’s a new thing between them, this attraction that feels like a magnetic force. Sam wonders what would have happened if Dean hadn’t pulled back, if a simple touch would have created that energy vortex that consumed their sanity last time and left them so desperate for each other they forgot where they were and who might be watching.
“Jerk,” Sam says instead.
Dean grins wider. “Bitch.”
“So we’re really gonna do this?” Sam asks, because he can’t leave well enough alone and he’s still not sure what they’re talking about. He feels like every fourteen year old who’s about to go on a first date and doesn’t know the rules. Are there rules for what you can do with your brother who you want very badly to slam up against the nearest tree and kiss senseless?
Dean’s smile falters a little. “If you want,” he says, waiting for Sam to decide.
“Only if you do too.”
Dean lets his eyes drop to Sam’s mouth this time, and Sam feels it like someone has just given his dick a squeeze. “Yeah,” he says, that same gruffness to his voice that is already taking on a new significance in Sam’s brain.
“What about mom?”
It slips out before Sam can stop it.
Dean takes a step back, scrubs his hand through his hair.
What about mom? Is this something they can hide, when all Mary’s hunter instincts will be focused on finding corroboration of what she’s already seen with her own eyes?
“I don’t know,” Dean admits.
They’re silent for a while, both of them staring off into the distance, trying in vain to imagine a world where they could be something more than brothers and still have their mother’s love.
“I know you,” Sam finally says, and he does not want to say the next thing that he knows he has to. “You won’t be able to take the guilt of this – of mom leaving. Of mom not being here. You could deal with her not being here for you, but for me? I don’t know if you can stand to see that, if she rejects me.”
Dean looks like he’s been punched in the stomach, and that lets Sam know just how right he is.
“What are you saying?” Dean asks, and his voice is small this time. He doesn’t want to hear Sam’s answer any more than Sam wants to say it.
“Maybe we shouldn’t.”
Dean flinches and looks away.
“Don’t misunderstand me, Dean – I want to. God, I want to with all of me, so bad I can’t even tell you. But I love you, and I don’t want you to be hurting. To be guilty, or worrying all the time, or feel responsible. So maybe we shouldn’t.”
Sam can see the moment that Dean decides. He squares his shoulders, stands a little straighter, before he turns back to his brother.
“Okay,” he says, and Sam realizes in that second how much he didn’t want Dean to agree with him.
“Okay,” he echoes, and they turn toward home without another word.
Sam tells himself that it’s for the best, that they’re doing the right thing. I mean, of course they’re doing the right thing. He tries to steal glances at Dean when his brother’s not looking. Dean’s shoulders are rigid, determinedly not slumping; not giving away anything. That’s how Sam knows that Dean is as upset as he is.
Dean tells himself that he was a fool to ever hold out any hope for something so wrong. That he’s grateful to Sam for his level-headedness. He keeps thinking how unselfish Sam is, how all his concern was for Dean and how Dean could never have handled this. He’s pretty sure Sam is right; and desperately wants Sam to be wrong.
Jack and Castiel both stare at them with disapproval when they walk down the stairs. Mary is there too, and her look is harder to bear. She looks at them like she doesn’t know who they are; like maybe there’s no way they really are the little boys who she knew and loved. Like maybe this confirms all her worst suspicions, validates the reasons she was never able to love them unconditionally when she came back like those little boys she lost. Maybe she knew all along, that they grew up wrong.
“Stop it,” Sam whispers. They’re halfway down the stairs. Dean is ridiculously glad that Sam can still read him, like always. That Sam is still his brother.
“Shut up,” he shoots back, and he knows without looking that Sam is smiling.
They take Jack on patrols with them that week, Castiel joining in to make their foursome efficient at ridding the world of what monsters they can find. Sam and Dean work almost as seamlessly as ever, sense memory kicking in, and even Cas doesn’t notice that they’re not as smooth as usual. They both work extra hard to stay attuned to each other, even though it feels like an effort in a way it never has before.
Near the end of the week, they take out four werewolves who were killing campers, without a scratch on any of them, and head back to the bunker. Jack is practically bouncing, elated that he’s finally able to be truly helpful, and even Castiel is almost smiling, part way back to his badass angel self.
They share beers across the library table, and Dean knocks his boot against Sam’s under the table and smiles at his brother.
“That!” Jack bursts out, and they all turn to him, perplexed.
“That’s the look that you give Sam and Sam gives you that isn’t like anyone else – and I miss it!”
Dean yanks his foot away so fast that he nearly unbalances himself and falls over. Both Winchesters take a gulp of beer to hide the way their faces are flushed.
“So, good job taking out that werewolf,” Dean says after a pause in the conversation.
Jack frowns. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, no, of course not,” Sam and Dean say at the same time. Jack frowns more deeply. A moment later, Castiel joins him.
“If there’s still something…” Jack starts to say, and Dean gets up from the table abruptly. He turns around to say goodnight, but he doesn’t look at Sam when he says it.
Dean sits on the edge of his bed for a long time that night. Stupid, it was stupid, thinking they could go back to being the way they were before. That he could play footsie with Sam under the table and it would just be to annoy him, a big brother torment like he’d been doing to Sam since he was too young to run away from it. That he could see Sam smile at him like that and not think about that night in the hallway, Sam’s happiness overflowing and lighting Dean up with a joy of his own, Sam’s mouth rough and insistent and Sam’s big hand cupping his face.
Has it always been obvious to other people, the way it is between them? Or is it different now, now that they took the lid off this thing between them and let it go from sparks to a flame. It feels impossible to snuff out now, to put back in whatever container they had each managed to construct for it and extinguish the sparks whenever they threatened to ignite. Dean’s not sure you can put the toothpaste back in the tube; so far, he’s failing miserably.
They’re both surly and scruffy the next day, puffy under the eyes and avoiding each other as they pack up for another hunt.
This one isn’t quite as successful. Jack ends up with a stomach slashed by claws, and Cas loses his footing and falls down an ancient wooden staircase and lands wrong. Sam and Dean still manage to take the thing out, but nobody is happy on the walk back to the car, which is more limp and less walk for most of them. Sam supports Jack and Dean supports Cas and they’ll both heal faster than a human would, but there’s no exhilaration this time.
It feels more familiar than the recent unexpected successes. Dean just wants a beer and a shower and to forget that they’re living on borrowed time, waiting for the day that Michael finds a way to open that portal and invade their world. And to forget that he’s still thinking about kissing his brother every time he turns out the lights and lies down at night.
“Would you mind fixing me a cup of that herbal tea we bought the other day?”
Castiel rarely asks Dean to do such things; he must be even more sore than he’s letting on. Cas settles himself on the bed in one of the bunker’s guest rooms – the one he sort of calls his own, though he rarely needs to actually be in it.
“Sure Cas, no problem.”
Sam insists on dabbing some antiseptic on Jack’s wounds when Jack is settled in his own bed, though they’re already starting to heal.
“You know what I’d really like?” Jack asks, and Sam pauses to brush the hair out of his eyes. Sometimes Jack really does feel like a kid. Their kid.
“Some of that tea that Castiel got on the supply run the other day. He says it helps you rest and heal.”
Jack doesn’t ask for much; Sam thinks he must be more shaken up than he’s letting on.
“Sure, no problem. I’ll bring it to you, you just lie down and rest, okay?”
Sam’s glad for the chance to be helpful. He closes the first aid kit, thinks about all the times he’s stitched Dean up and wonders if Dean will ever let him get that close again. The thought hurts more than he expects it to.
Sam walks into the kitchen to find Dean already there, the old 1950s kettle the Men of Letters left behind well on its way to bubbling. Dean is standing on the step ladder they use to reach the highest of the floor-to-ceiling shelves that line the bunker’s kitchen, stretching to reach something on the top of the storage shelves. His tee shirt has pulled up to expose a thin strip of skin above the waist of his jeans, and the position accentuates his broad shoulders and the taper of rib cage to slim hips. Sam swallows hard.
He's still staring when the step ladder Dean is standing on suddenly starts to wobble violently.
“What the fuck,” Dean swears, and then the ladder goes right out from under him. He falls backwards and Sam sees it happen in slow motion, Dean’s arms pinwheeling, searching for something to grab onto.
Sam moves on instinct, no thought needed, and Dean falls right into his arms.
He looks up with a stunned expression, eyes big and green and so damn pretty.
“S-Sam?”
For a second, Sam can’t even say anything. Dean’s right there, in his arms, looking up at him, and his lips are glossy and full and utterly inviting.
Time stands still as the Winchesters stare at each other. Dean is keenly aware that he’s in a ridiculous position, that his brother is practically bridal carrying him in their kitchen. He can feel the strength in Sam’s arms as they hold him up, and the knowledge that Sam was right there to catch him when he falls – not even a metaphor – brings a warmth that makes him want to do something very stupid.
Sam looks like he wants to do the same very stupid thing.
“Uh, you okay?” Sam finally asks.
It breaks the spell, and Dean wriggles out of Sam’s arms because that’s what’s expected. He’s the big brother, for godsakes. That doesn’t explain why Sam holding him felt so damn good, of course.
“I’m fine, I just – I don’t know what happened, the ladder just got shaky all of a sudden.”
Sam nods. “Yeah, I saw it. It was….kinda weird.”
Dean frowns. “I guess I lost my balance? Or something.”
“What were you looking for up there?”
Dean sighs, put upon. “Cas wanted some of that herbal tea we got today. No clue why he put it up so high if he was gonna want to drink it right away.”
“Huh. Jack just asked me to make him a cup of that same tea. Just now.”
Dean’s eyebrows draw together, and then he rolls his eyes. Sam figures it out at the same time.
“Oh for godsakes, really? What, is this like some kind of relationship intervention? I’m gonna kick that kid’s ass for knocking me off a goddamn ladder. What if you didn’t catch me?”
Sam snorts. “Pretty sure he knew I would.”
Sam is suddenly very tired. All the worrying and longing and thinking about what it felt like to kiss Dean while trying not to think about what it felt like to kiss Dean are wearing him out. He sits down at the kitchen table and pushes his hair out of his eyes.
Dean immediately sits down beside him. “You okay?”
No matter what else is going on between them, Sam knows that Dean will always be his big brother. That concern is hard wired into him, and right now Sam is kinda glad. He isn’t the one who almost took a header in their kitchen, but he’s also not okay.
“Not really.”
Dean sighs and goes over to the stove to turn the kettle to simmer. He sits down across from Sam and scrubs his hand through his hair. The spikes stand up, lopsided and adorable.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Sam admits.
He can see Dean absorb the words, the way he blinks a few times, sets his jaw before he answers carefully.
“So what, you wanna leave?”
It’s such a Dean thing to assume; no matter how many times Sam swears up and down that he is not leaving, Dean will never entirely believe it.
Dean is easy to read. He blinks again, tries to keep his breathing steady to disguise the way he exhales shakily. Relief loosens his shoulders as he looks up at Sam.
“What then?”
Sam hesitates. This sucks, there’s no doubt about that. But the alternative isn’t exactly a walk in the park.
“Will the world come to an end if we kissed again?”
The corner of Dean’s mouth turns up just slightly.
“I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Should we find out?”
Dean shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Probably not. But that never stops us anyway.”
Part Three
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Oh but that conversation about them deciding not to act on it. It was so painful. Here on a plate is everything they both want but they have to decide not to let themselves have it 😭. I kinda love that it wasn’t just for Mary’s sake per say. It was more that if she did leave then Sam wanted to spare Dean that guilt. I like that they decided more for themselves. But actually it was always a flawed plan from the start because in order to work they would have to have acted like ‘normal’ brothers and they have never done that even when they weren’t thinking romantically. And I love that you emphasise that point in their hunting. How they aren’t automatically so in sync when they have to overthink everything. It really isn’t a sustainable situation.
Plus I’m loving innocent supportive Jack 😄🤗. That simple uncomplicated ‘you two love each other that’s what’s special about you’ — it makes me smile. Plus I’m assuming that he wouldn’t care even if he thought they were sleeping together. It’s not like he has had time to gain ideas of casual taboos or prejudices. But the tends to see thing’s simplistically anyway. Where as Cas probably would realise the taboo by now, but he just wouldn’t give a shit. I love that dynamic. Totally here for it. So the two of them ‘matchmaking’ cracked me up 😂. (I wonder if they have secret conversations on angel radio 😂)
But I gotta say the boys sitting down in the kitchen and admitting that this isn’t working, that made me happy. Combined with a big dose of ‘this probably isn’t a good idea, but what the hell, when do we ever have good ideas?!’ 😂😁 go Winchesters.
Now we just have to see how things fall out with Mary!
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