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runedgirlAuthor: 
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 THREE
Sam leans forward, and so does Dean. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the adrenaline-fueled collision of bodies and mouths that happened in the hallway. Nevertheless, the feel of Dean’s mouth and just the barest moist touch of his tongue nudging Sam’s is enough to make Sam’s stomach go hollow and his dick go hard.
Dean pulls away first. His expression is fond, his eyes dark.
“I can live on whatever you want to give, Sammy,” he says, and it’s tender and serious and makes Sam’s chest feel tight. “Just this, if that’s what you want.”
“For now,” Sam says, and Dean nods agreement.
Sam eventually climbs up to retrieve the fancy new herbal tea. Dean insists on holding the ladder, which means he gets an A+ view of his brother’s very fine ass and is proud of his restraint when he doesn’t make a comment or move his hands from the side rails.
They pour two cups of tea and Sam reaches across the table and puts his hand over his brother’s where it rests on the table, and Dean smiles around his teacup.
“Pretty sure Jack and Cas didn’t even want the damn tea,” he grumbles, and Sam smiles too.
The next day Dean is certain he’s acting just the same as he has been, but Jack does nothing but grin at him across the breakfast table, turning to Sam from time to time to do the same.
“You’re in a good mood,” Mary says to Jack as she finishes off another piece of bacon. It’s one of the things Dean unequivocally loves about his mother – her unequivocal love of bacon.
“I am,” Jack confirms, and goes right back to grinning at Dean and Sam.
Mary is also very smart. Dean can feel her eyes on him, assessing. He concentrates on his pancakes and tells himself over and over that she does not know that he kissed Sam last night. Or that he plans to do it again as soon as they can find some alone time.
Mary and Bobby both join them on the hunt that day, along with Jack and Cas. There are a few tense moments, including one when a ghoul gets hold of Sam and slams him up against the wall so hard a few picture frames crash to the floor. Dean yells “Sammy!” from across the room and Sam meets his eyes instantly as Dean tosses the gun right into Sam’s waiting hand, and boom, it’s all over for that monster and Sam is sliding to the floor, winded but alive. Dean runs to him, drops to his knees with hands patting over Sam’s neck and chest to make sure there’s no significant blood, still asking “Sam? Sammy?”
It’s not until he hears Sam’s breathless “I’m okay, I’m okay,” that the adrenaline lets go a little and lets him stand up, pulling Sam up with him a moment later.
“You okay, son?” Mary asks, and Dean didn’t even realize she was right beside him. She’s asking Sam, but she’s looking at Dean – or rather, she looks like she’s trying to look right through him.
Suddenly self conscious, Dean releases the grip he has on Sam’s arm, and Sam wobbles for a second, not expecting it.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Sam says again, but his forehead is lined with concern as Dean turns away from them.
“Come on, let’s get you to the car,” Mary urges, and helps him outside. Sam turns his head to look for his brother, but Dean hangs back, lets Mary take care of her son.
Both Mary and Dean insist that Sam lie down on the back seat as they make the long drive back to the bunker. It’s like going back in time, except it’s Mom in the front seat with Dean instead of Dad. Dean keeps the music on constantly. He says it’s to stay awake, but Sam can feel the tension anyway. Mary says nothing, drums out a beat on Baby’s leather seat to AC/DC.
She walks Sam to his bedroom and brings him a glass of water and some Advil, and Sam’s chest aches with the sensation of longing that Mary’s mothering brings. Something he never had from her, something he always wanted. She smooths his hair over his forehead and tells him to sleep, and Sam tries to memorize this moment; it doesn’t feel like something he should get used to.
As much as he cherishes Mary’s mothering, Sam watches the door for a long time, hoping Dean will come by. They always check on each other after one of them has been hurt, usually more than once. As wonderful as it was to have Mary do that, Sam realizes that the one he wants most when he’s hurt has never been his mother – it’s always been Dean.
It’s a long time before he finally falls asleep.
Mary and Bobby are both in the kitchen when Sam stumbles in the next morning. There’s fresh coffee, a stack of waffles and of course bacon. There’s also cereal and bananas and granola and yogurt, all of which makes Sam’s stomach start to twist with apprehension. Dean comes in a moment later, after waiting for the sound of Sam’s door opening.
“Boys,” Mary says as they all sit down. “Bobby wants to take a trip down to Sioux Falls, see where his alter ego lived. I thought I might go with him.”
Sam and Dean nod.
“We might….we might stay a while, see what needs hunting down in those parts. Until something happens with Michael or Lucifer, or until you need us.”
Sam looks at Dean; when Mary left them before, he knows it was even harder for Dean. He still misses the mother he remembers and wishes Mary could be that mother.
To Sam’s surprise, Dean nods again. “Okay,” he agrees, though there’s clearly a lot of emotion behind the simple agreement.
“It won’t be forever,” Mary clarifies, “Just for a while. It’ll give you boys a chance to….to work things out, without your mother here getting in the way of that.”
Dean’s eyes go a little wide, then narrow with suspicion. She can’t possibly be saying what it sounds like she’s saying.
He’s not sure it’s the smartest thing he’s ever done, but Sam wants to know for sure. Not so much because he needs to know where Mary’s head is at when it comes to her sons, but because Dean does. No matter how much Dean wants this thing with Sam, Mary’s feelings will always be in the way.
“What are you saying, Mom?” Sam asks, and Dean hisses “Sam” disapprovingly, clearly shocked that Sam is asking outright.
Mary looks at Bobby, perhaps for some help, but the old man just shrugs. “Your boys, your choice,” he says, and Sam realizes for the first time that there’s something there between his mother and Bobby that’s not just friendship.
Mary puts her coffee mug down and looks from Sam to Dean and back. “Look, I’m not saying I get it, or even that I’m comfortable with it. But I’d have to be blind not to see that you’ve kept each other alive, all this time. All this time without me, without John. And you still are – you keep each other alive. I’m not gonna get in the way of that.”
Dean looks dumbstruck; he can’t seem to find a single thing to say.
Sam gives his mother a small smile. “Thank you,” he says. He thinks about telling her that this is new to them, that even they don’t know where it’s going or where it will take them, but none of that really matters. That’s theirs to figure out and theirs alone. Mary seems to know that too.
“Well finish your breakfast, everyone,” Mary says after a pause. “I didn’t slave over a hot stove cooking all this stuff just to have nobody eat it!”
Bobby guffaws and digs into a plate of waffles, and even Dean manages to eat something. He keeps sneaking glances at Sam, and every time his expression just screams “WTF??” It’s kinda adorable.
They hug Mary and Bobby goodbye that afternoon, the truck Bobby bought in town loaded up with supplies and some weapons from the Men of Letters added in. Mary looks Dean in the eye when she lets him go and says “I love you” and Dean has to blink a dozen times to make it look like he’s not emotional about it.
Sam has no trouble saying “I love you” back, and both of them sort of want to say it to Bobby too, though he’s not the Bobby they’ve known all their lives and he hasn’t really earned that level of trust or affection yet. Maybe someday though.
Cas and Jack and Rowena and Charlie come out to say goodbye too; the bunker is full of people after Mary and Bobby pull away. They all share a few beers and Rowena and Charlie share their exploits and what is clearly the beginning of an unlikely friendship, or perhaps something more, and Sam keeps trying to catch Dean’s eye from across the room. Every time he does, Dean turns away, but not before Sam can see the corner of his mouth turn up and his cheeks go a little pink.
It's late before everyone else goes their separate ways and it’s only Sam and Dean sitting at the table where they’ve spent so many days and nights researching and comparing notes and talking each other through crises of loss and trauma and hopelessness. Dean slides his chair closer to Sam’s and puts a hand on his knee.
“You up for some more making out?”
Sam smiles and puts his hand over Dean’s. “Smooth,” he says, teasing.
“You complainin’?”
Sam slides their hands up higher on his thigh, spreads his legs a little in invitation.
Dean gasps like Sam just punched him in the stomach.
“Christ Sammy,” he swears, and his fingers dig into the meat of Sam’s thigh, eager.
They both lean in at the same time, so their mouths crash together harder than either intended. Dean groans low in his throat and his fingers knead at Sam’s thigh as they kiss, and Sam is harder than steel just like that, Dean’s hand so close to where he desperately wants it.
Sam mirrors the gesture, wraps his own hand around Dean’s thigh and squeezes, and Dean scoots closer, half out of his chair and nearly in Sam’s lap, their mouths still working hungrily. Dean likes to kiss with his tongue, sweeping it in and out and around and then pulling out so Sam has to chase it, and it’s winding Sam up like nothing else. He wants. He wants so badly it’s all he can feel, desperate to get at more of Dean’s mouth, more of Dean’s thick muscled thigh, more of Dean.
Dean tries to hold himself back, not let this thing between them get out of hand. He’s still trying to make sense of what happened with Mary, can’t make himself believe she gave some sort of handwave to what she knows they are to each other. It doesn’t compute, not something he’s ever let himself hope for or even fantasize about. But here’s Sam, sucking on his tongue and chasing after his mouth every time he tries to pull back. Here’s Sam’s giant hand with a death grip on his thigh, and the thought of what else those big fingers could be wrapped around is making Dean feel like a teenager, his dick so desperate to get up against Sam that he can’t stay in his chair, is nearly crawling on top of Sam to try to get them closer together.
Neither of them go farther, anchored with a hand on each other’s leg and all their energy funneled into one bruising wet kiss after another. They’re both hard; they’re both scared.
“Sammy,” Dean says against Sam’s mouth when their lips are sore and their tongues are tired. It sounds like Smmmmmy and it makes Sam laugh, and that finally lets them break away. Dean rests his forehead against his brother’s. They’re both panting, and Sam can feel Dean’s breath against his face.
“Dean,” Sam answers, and cups the side of Dean’s face gently, the way he did that first time when this caught both of them by surprise.
“You wanna do more?” Dean asks, and Sam huffs a laugh. He leans back in and kisses Dean’s mouth softly.
“Yeah, definitely. You?”
Dean moves his hand then for the first time, slides it higher on Sam’s thigh until his fingers reach the bulge in Sam’s jeans. He only brushes over it just barely, but Sam jumps and gasps anyway, pleasure shooting through him.
“Let’s get outta here,” Sam suggests, grabbing Dean’s wrist to pull him up. He spares a glance at Dean’s pants to be sure he’s not the only one with an erection, then tugs his brother in the direction of their bedrooms.
Because life is not fair, they run into Castiel on the way there. He cocks one eyebrow, looks at their joined hands and then at the tents in their jeans, and says “Oh.”
“Uh…” Dean starts, his face coloring.
“Enjoy yourselves,” Cas says with total seriousness. He waves a hand in the general direction of below their belts. “With your sexual gratification.”
Dean’s eyes go comically wide, and Sam tugs him away before Cas ruins the moment. “Thanks, Cas. Goodnight,” Sam calls over his shoulder and Cas nods sagely.
“Jesuschrist,” Dean says as soon as Sam’s door is closed behind them. “Are we sure an angel of the lord is okay with….with this?”
Sam is in not about to let Cas, of all people, be the one to kill the mood. He’s pretty sure that’s the last thing the angel would want. Cas loves Dean, probably loves both of them, and Sam is swiftly coming to the conclusion that this insane thing they’re about to do is going to make Dean happy. At least he hopes it is. So Cas is probably their biggest cheerleader, other than Jack.
“What’s going on in that big brain of yours? You having second thoughts? Because if…”
That’s as far as Dean gets before Sam’s mouth is back on Dean’s. He walks them backwards until Dean hits the bed and then wrestles his brother down and crawls on top of him. Sam is bigger than Dean; this position lets them both feel it. Sam’s not sure how Dean will react, half expects him to grab Sam by the shoulders and roll them over so he can be on top, but instead Dean fucking moans and wraps his legs around Sam’s hips, bucking up so their cocks rub together.
They make out for a long time, even though they’re both too aroused to stop the movement of their hips, grinding against one another in a filthy desperate rhythm. Sam has his full weight on Dean, his hips driving Dean down into the mattress with every thrust but Dean just urges him on, hands gripping Sam’s ass and pulling him in.
“God, God, Sam,” Dean pants when Sam finally breaks the kiss to mouth at Dean’s jaw, his tongue wet and hot on Dean’s throat, his teeth nipping at Dean’s neck, at his ear lobe. It’s sloppy; Sam is uncoordinated in his excitement, his hips thrusting against Dean’s pelvis and smashing him to the bed. Dean’s got his legs spread wide, his heels digging into Sam’s ass and he can feel the way Sam’s muscles clench each time he presses Dean to the mattress, grinding into him like they’re fucking. The thought brings an intense burst of pleasure, and Dean groans with it, tossing his head as Sam keeps worrying at his neck, across his clavicle. He’ll have marks tomorrow and Dean realizes with a shock that he doesn’t care.
While Sam’s busy marking him up, Dean slides his hands up under Sam’s shirt. Sam’s skin is slick with sweat, slippery and feverish; Dean can feel the muscles work under all that hot flesh, as Sam lifts himself up and then crashes back down. Dean rakes his nails down Sam’s back and Sam snaps his head up and growls in Dean’s ear, hips snapping faster. Dean’s breathless with it, lightheaded from arousal and all 200 pounds of Sam spread out on top of him. He feels helpless, and owned, and completely okay with that.
“Pants,” Dean says, voice strangled, hands fumbling at the back of Sam’s jeans to try to push them down over his ass.
Sam doesn’t stop at first, too lost in the rhythm of his own body to pause, but then he raises himself up on his knees and his hands fly to his belt. Dean lays there staring up at his brother as Sam unbuckles his belt and starts to drag down his zipper; Dean can see Sam’s fat cock straining at the denim. He licks his lips as Sam reaches in and hauls out his dick while he’s still kneeling up straddling Dean and Dean’s mouth falls open, he can’t help it.
Sam cries out like the way Dean looks is hurting him, and his fist wraps around his cock, squeezes the swollen flesh hard.
“Go ahead,” Dean rasps, barely able to get the words out, “Do it. Come on, I want you to, lemme watch, please Sam, do it right now, all over me.”
Sam’s eyes roll up and his mouth falls open as his hand strips his dick frantically. Dean watches the fat head pop through the circle of Sam’s big capable fingers, slick and drooling. Sam’s stomach muscles contract and his belly rolls with the intensity of it when he starts to come, and Dean knows he will never forget this moment as long as he lives, will never get the picture that Sam makes right now out of his brain.
Sam doesn’t make a sound, just rides it out, his thighs gripping Dean’s hips like a vise and his face contorted with pleasure. Drops hit Dean’s chest, his chin. A few land on his face, and he snakes his tongue out to lap up the stickiness. Sam’s eyes are open, and Sam does make a noise when he sees; he groans loudly, and his dick spurts weakly one more time.
“Jesuschrist Dean,” Sam says, staring down at the mess he’s made of his brother. Dean’s face is flushed, sweat darkening his hairline. He’s splattered with Sam’s come; on his cheek, his chin where there’s a shadow of stubble. There’s more on his neck right on top of the dark pink mark Sam’s teeth left on him, and if Sam hadn’t just shot his brains out he would be hard again seeing that. Dean’s tongue snakes out to lick up the drop at the corner of his mouth and the aftershock of pleasure that rockets through Sam is so intense it’s painful.
Sam scoots back a little and Dean gasps as Sam’s ass brushes over his erection.
Sam climbs off and pats Dean’s belly. “Okay, I gotcha, I gotcha.”
He unbuckles Dean’s belt and pops the button on his jeans. Dean props himself up on his elbows and watches Sam, eyes dark with arousal.
Lax with the aftereffects of his own climax, Sam takes his time sliding down the zipper. He bends down and kisses along Dean’s trapped length, drags his teeth up and down until Dean is whimpering.
“You gonna beg me, big brother?”
“Fuck,” Dean swears. Sam pulls Dean’s opened jeans down low on his hips and pushes his tee shirt up, wanting to see Dean’s lean body spread out for him. He leaves the black boxer briefs on, watching the way Dean’s erection strains against the cotton.
“So beautiful,” Sam whispers. He kisses Dean’s exposed chest, along the midline to his belly button and then lower, mouthing along Dean’s happy trail. He lifts his head when he gets to the waistband of Dean’s shorts and Dean makes a muffled complaint. He’s got his own arm flung over his face, trying to smother the sounds he can’t stop making. Sam chuckles and pulls Dean’s jeans down further, working them off and flinging them aside. He pushes Dean’s bare legs apart and crawls between them, kissing behind Dean’s knee where he’s ticklish and then higher, nipping and licking at the baby soft skin on the inside of his thighs. He spreads Dean wide to do it, and Dean moans loudly into his own arm at being manhandled like that. Sam can see Dean’s dick visibly twitch in his shorts, a wet spot spreading on the cotton.
“God fuck Sam god fuck fuck Sammy god” Dean is chanting and Sam doesn’t think he even knows he’s speaking, he’s so lost to the sensations of his body and the need to come.
He sucks hard at the tender flesh of Dean’s inner thigh, almost at the join of leg to pelvis, and Dean’s legs tremble. It’s intoxicating, turning his brother into a whimpering mess of pure need, and Sam wants to do this forever. He can feel his own body hardening again, helpless not to respond to the picture Dean makes beneath him.
“Please Sammy,” Dean begs breathlessly, and Sam takes pity, noses higher and rubs against Dean’s balls, feeling how tight they are under his shorts. He’s ready to go off, has been for too long; just that stimulation makes his thighs start shaking again as he squirms, hips jumping. Sam pushes Dean’s legs up higher, tight grip on both thighs to lift him up and get at him. Sam licks his balls through the cotton, then lower, stabbing his tongue in hard because he’s already thinking of doing this to Dean when they’re naked, and Dean squeaks when he feels what Sam’s doing, his whole body seizing up as he lets out a stream of curse words.
Sam just holds on, taking his time and getting the cotton wet, until the swollen head of Dean’s cock is just barely visible above the waistband of his shorts. Sam can’t wait then, can’t tease anymore; he tugs Dean’s shorts down below his balls and licks Dean’s dick when it springs free, all the way to the top and then back down again. Dean’s thick and hard as steel, and as soon as he feels Sam’s mouth on him, he pumps his hips up frantically and shoots hard, groaning loudly. Sam sinks down on him, takes as much as he can and swallows it down as he gets one hand around the base of Dean’s cock and fists him through his climax.
Dean falls back on the bed still cursing, and Sam can feel the frantic beat of his heart when he lays his head on Dean’s chest.
“You fucker,” Dean says from above him, “Fucking tease! You nearly killed me.”
Dean cuffs him on the back of the head, and Sam bites his stomach in retaliation.
“Ouch, fucker!” Dean says again, but his hand comes back, this time carding gently through Sam’s hair.
Sam falls asleep there, the sound of his brother’s heart beat and the feel of Dean’s fingers on his scalp lulling him under.
In the morning, he thinks he’s dreaming when he wakes up to a warm wet mouth on his morning wood. Dean stops what he’s doing to grin up at Sam.
“Morning, bitch,” he says, licking his lips.
“Morning, jerk,” Sam answers, and lays back down, spreading his legs so Dean has room to work. “So I guess we’re really doing this.”
He hums in appreciation of Dean’s oral skills and Dean hums back in acknowledgement, and Sam smiles.
Lucifer might not be dead and Michael might find his way through the portal at any moment, but if he does, Sam knows he was right about the thing that is most important.
Whatever they’re about to face, they’ll do it together.
</lj-cut>
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 THREE
Sam leans forward, and so does Dean. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the adrenaline-fueled collision of bodies and mouths that happened in the hallway. Nevertheless, the feel of Dean’s mouth and just the barest moist touch of his tongue nudging Sam’s is enough to make Sam’s stomach go hollow and his dick go hard.
Dean pulls away first. His expression is fond, his eyes dark.
“I can live on whatever you want to give, Sammy,” he says, and it’s tender and serious and makes Sam’s chest feel tight. “Just this, if that’s what you want.”
“For now,” Sam says, and Dean nods agreement.
Sam eventually climbs up to retrieve the fancy new herbal tea. Dean insists on holding the ladder, which means he gets an A+ view of his brother’s very fine ass and is proud of his restraint when he doesn’t make a comment or move his hands from the side rails.
They pour two cups of tea and Sam reaches across the table and puts his hand over his brother’s where it rests on the table, and Dean smiles around his teacup.
“Pretty sure Jack and Cas didn’t even want the damn tea,” he grumbles, and Sam smiles too.
The next day Dean is certain he’s acting just the same as he has been, but Jack does nothing but grin at him across the breakfast table, turning to Sam from time to time to do the same.
“You’re in a good mood,” Mary says to Jack as she finishes off another piece of bacon. It’s one of the things Dean unequivocally loves about his mother – her unequivocal love of bacon.
“I am,” Jack confirms, and goes right back to grinning at Dean and Sam.
Mary is also very smart. Dean can feel her eyes on him, assessing. He concentrates on his pancakes and tells himself over and over that she does not know that he kissed Sam last night. Or that he plans to do it again as soon as they can find some alone time.
Mary and Bobby both join them on the hunt that day, along with Jack and Cas. There are a few tense moments, including one when a ghoul gets hold of Sam and slams him up against the wall so hard a few picture frames crash to the floor. Dean yells “Sammy!” from across the room and Sam meets his eyes instantly as Dean tosses the gun right into Sam’s waiting hand, and boom, it’s all over for that monster and Sam is sliding to the floor, winded but alive. Dean runs to him, drops to his knees with hands patting over Sam’s neck and chest to make sure there’s no significant blood, still asking “Sam? Sammy?”
It’s not until he hears Sam’s breathless “I’m okay, I’m okay,” that the adrenaline lets go a little and lets him stand up, pulling Sam up with him a moment later.
“You okay, son?” Mary asks, and Dean didn’t even realize she was right beside him. She’s asking Sam, but she’s looking at Dean – or rather, she looks like she’s trying to look right through him.
Suddenly self conscious, Dean releases the grip he has on Sam’s arm, and Sam wobbles for a second, not expecting it.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Sam says again, but his forehead is lined with concern as Dean turns away from them.
“Come on, let’s get you to the car,” Mary urges, and helps him outside. Sam turns his head to look for his brother, but Dean hangs back, lets Mary take care of her son.
Both Mary and Dean insist that Sam lie down on the back seat as they make the long drive back to the bunker. It’s like going back in time, except it’s Mom in the front seat with Dean instead of Dad. Dean keeps the music on constantly. He says it’s to stay awake, but Sam can feel the tension anyway. Mary says nothing, drums out a beat on Baby’s leather seat to AC/DC.
She walks Sam to his bedroom and brings him a glass of water and some Advil, and Sam’s chest aches with the sensation of longing that Mary’s mothering brings. Something he never had from her, something he always wanted. She smooths his hair over his forehead and tells him to sleep, and Sam tries to memorize this moment; it doesn’t feel like something he should get used to.
As much as he cherishes Mary’s mothering, Sam watches the door for a long time, hoping Dean will come by. They always check on each other after one of them has been hurt, usually more than once. As wonderful as it was to have Mary do that, Sam realizes that the one he wants most when he’s hurt has never been his mother – it’s always been Dean.
It’s a long time before he finally falls asleep.
Mary and Bobby are both in the kitchen when Sam stumbles in the next morning. There’s fresh coffee, a stack of waffles and of course bacon. There’s also cereal and bananas and granola and yogurt, all of which makes Sam’s stomach start to twist with apprehension. Dean comes in a moment later, after waiting for the sound of Sam’s door opening.
“Boys,” Mary says as they all sit down. “Bobby wants to take a trip down to Sioux Falls, see where his alter ego lived. I thought I might go with him.”
Sam and Dean nod.
“We might….we might stay a while, see what needs hunting down in those parts. Until something happens with Michael or Lucifer, or until you need us.”
Sam looks at Dean; when Mary left them before, he knows it was even harder for Dean. He still misses the mother he remembers and wishes Mary could be that mother.
To Sam’s surprise, Dean nods again. “Okay,” he agrees, though there’s clearly a lot of emotion behind the simple agreement.
“It won’t be forever,” Mary clarifies, “Just for a while. It’ll give you boys a chance to….to work things out, without your mother here getting in the way of that.”
Dean’s eyes go a little wide, then narrow with suspicion. She can’t possibly be saying what it sounds like she’s saying.
He’s not sure it’s the smartest thing he’s ever done, but Sam wants to know for sure. Not so much because he needs to know where Mary’s head is at when it comes to her sons, but because Dean does. No matter how much Dean wants this thing with Sam, Mary’s feelings will always be in the way.
“What are you saying, Mom?” Sam asks, and Dean hisses “Sam” disapprovingly, clearly shocked that Sam is asking outright.
Mary looks at Bobby, perhaps for some help, but the old man just shrugs. “Your boys, your choice,” he says, and Sam realizes for the first time that there’s something there between his mother and Bobby that’s not just friendship.
Mary puts her coffee mug down and looks from Sam to Dean and back. “Look, I’m not saying I get it, or even that I’m comfortable with it. But I’d have to be blind not to see that you’ve kept each other alive, all this time. All this time without me, without John. And you still are – you keep each other alive. I’m not gonna get in the way of that.”
Dean looks dumbstruck; he can’t seem to find a single thing to say.
Sam gives his mother a small smile. “Thank you,” he says. He thinks about telling her that this is new to them, that even they don’t know where it’s going or where it will take them, but none of that really matters. That’s theirs to figure out and theirs alone. Mary seems to know that too.
“Well finish your breakfast, everyone,” Mary says after a pause. “I didn’t slave over a hot stove cooking all this stuff just to have nobody eat it!”
Bobby guffaws and digs into a plate of waffles, and even Dean manages to eat something. He keeps sneaking glances at Sam, and every time his expression just screams “WTF??” It’s kinda adorable.
They hug Mary and Bobby goodbye that afternoon, the truck Bobby bought in town loaded up with supplies and some weapons from the Men of Letters added in. Mary looks Dean in the eye when she lets him go and says “I love you” and Dean has to blink a dozen times to make it look like he’s not emotional about it.
Sam has no trouble saying “I love you” back, and both of them sort of want to say it to Bobby too, though he’s not the Bobby they’ve known all their lives and he hasn’t really earned that level of trust or affection yet. Maybe someday though.
Cas and Jack and Rowena and Charlie come out to say goodbye too; the bunker is full of people after Mary and Bobby pull away. They all share a few beers and Rowena and Charlie share their exploits and what is clearly the beginning of an unlikely friendship, or perhaps something more, and Sam keeps trying to catch Dean’s eye from across the room. Every time he does, Dean turns away, but not before Sam can see the corner of his mouth turn up and his cheeks go a little pink.
It's late before everyone else goes their separate ways and it’s only Sam and Dean sitting at the table where they’ve spent so many days and nights researching and comparing notes and talking each other through crises of loss and trauma and hopelessness. Dean slides his chair closer to Sam’s and puts a hand on his knee.
“You up for some more making out?”
Sam smiles and puts his hand over Dean’s. “Smooth,” he says, teasing.
“You complainin’?”
Sam slides their hands up higher on his thigh, spreads his legs a little in invitation.
Dean gasps like Sam just punched him in the stomach.
“Christ Sammy,” he swears, and his fingers dig into the meat of Sam’s thigh, eager.
They both lean in at the same time, so their mouths crash together harder than either intended. Dean groans low in his throat and his fingers knead at Sam’s thigh as they kiss, and Sam is harder than steel just like that, Dean’s hand so close to where he desperately wants it.
Sam mirrors the gesture, wraps his own hand around Dean’s thigh and squeezes, and Dean scoots closer, half out of his chair and nearly in Sam’s lap, their mouths still working hungrily. Dean likes to kiss with his tongue, sweeping it in and out and around and then pulling out so Sam has to chase it, and it’s winding Sam up like nothing else. He wants. He wants so badly it’s all he can feel, desperate to get at more of Dean’s mouth, more of Dean’s thick muscled thigh, more of Dean.
Dean tries to hold himself back, not let this thing between them get out of hand. He’s still trying to make sense of what happened with Mary, can’t make himself believe she gave some sort of handwave to what she knows they are to each other. It doesn’t compute, not something he’s ever let himself hope for or even fantasize about. But here’s Sam, sucking on his tongue and chasing after his mouth every time he tries to pull back. Here’s Sam’s giant hand with a death grip on his thigh, and the thought of what else those big fingers could be wrapped around is making Dean feel like a teenager, his dick so desperate to get up against Sam that he can’t stay in his chair, is nearly crawling on top of Sam to try to get them closer together.
Neither of them go farther, anchored with a hand on each other’s leg and all their energy funneled into one bruising wet kiss after another. They’re both hard; they’re both scared.
“Sammy,” Dean says against Sam’s mouth when their lips are sore and their tongues are tired. It sounds like Smmmmmy and it makes Sam laugh, and that finally lets them break away. Dean rests his forehead against his brother’s. They’re both panting, and Sam can feel Dean’s breath against his face.
“Dean,” Sam answers, and cups the side of Dean’s face gently, the way he did that first time when this caught both of them by surprise.
“You wanna do more?” Dean asks, and Sam huffs a laugh. He leans back in and kisses Dean’s mouth softly.
“Yeah, definitely. You?”
Dean moves his hand then for the first time, slides it higher on Sam’s thigh until his fingers reach the bulge in Sam’s jeans. He only brushes over it just barely, but Sam jumps and gasps anyway, pleasure shooting through him.
“Let’s get outta here,” Sam suggests, grabbing Dean’s wrist to pull him up. He spares a glance at Dean’s pants to be sure he’s not the only one with an erection, then tugs his brother in the direction of their bedrooms.
Because life is not fair, they run into Castiel on the way there. He cocks one eyebrow, looks at their joined hands and then at the tents in their jeans, and says “Oh.”
“Uh…” Dean starts, his face coloring.
“Enjoy yourselves,” Cas says with total seriousness. He waves a hand in the general direction of below their belts. “With your sexual gratification.”
Dean’s eyes go comically wide, and Sam tugs him away before Cas ruins the moment. “Thanks, Cas. Goodnight,” Sam calls over his shoulder and Cas nods sagely.
“Jesuschrist,” Dean says as soon as Sam’s door is closed behind them. “Are we sure an angel of the lord is okay with….with this?”
Sam is in not about to let Cas, of all people, be the one to kill the mood. He’s pretty sure that’s the last thing the angel would want. Cas loves Dean, probably loves both of them, and Sam is swiftly coming to the conclusion that this insane thing they’re about to do is going to make Dean happy. At least he hopes it is. So Cas is probably their biggest cheerleader, other than Jack.
“What’s going on in that big brain of yours? You having second thoughts? Because if…”
That’s as far as Dean gets before Sam’s mouth is back on Dean’s. He walks them backwards until Dean hits the bed and then wrestles his brother down and crawls on top of him. Sam is bigger than Dean; this position lets them both feel it. Sam’s not sure how Dean will react, half expects him to grab Sam by the shoulders and roll them over so he can be on top, but instead Dean fucking moans and wraps his legs around Sam’s hips, bucking up so their cocks rub together.
They make out for a long time, even though they’re both too aroused to stop the movement of their hips, grinding against one another in a filthy desperate rhythm. Sam has his full weight on Dean, his hips driving Dean down into the mattress with every thrust but Dean just urges him on, hands gripping Sam’s ass and pulling him in.
“God, God, Sam,” Dean pants when Sam finally breaks the kiss to mouth at Dean’s jaw, his tongue wet and hot on Dean’s throat, his teeth nipping at Dean’s neck, at his ear lobe. It’s sloppy; Sam is uncoordinated in his excitement, his hips thrusting against Dean’s pelvis and smashing him to the bed. Dean’s got his legs spread wide, his heels digging into Sam’s ass and he can feel the way Sam’s muscles clench each time he presses Dean to the mattress, grinding into him like they’re fucking. The thought brings an intense burst of pleasure, and Dean groans with it, tossing his head as Sam keeps worrying at his neck, across his clavicle. He’ll have marks tomorrow and Dean realizes with a shock that he doesn’t care.
While Sam’s busy marking him up, Dean slides his hands up under Sam’s shirt. Sam’s skin is slick with sweat, slippery and feverish; Dean can feel the muscles work under all that hot flesh, as Sam lifts himself up and then crashes back down. Dean rakes his nails down Sam’s back and Sam snaps his head up and growls in Dean’s ear, hips snapping faster. Dean’s breathless with it, lightheaded from arousal and all 200 pounds of Sam spread out on top of him. He feels helpless, and owned, and completely okay with that.
“Pants,” Dean says, voice strangled, hands fumbling at the back of Sam’s jeans to try to push them down over his ass.
Sam doesn’t stop at first, too lost in the rhythm of his own body to pause, but then he raises himself up on his knees and his hands fly to his belt. Dean lays there staring up at his brother as Sam unbuckles his belt and starts to drag down his zipper; Dean can see Sam’s fat cock straining at the denim. He licks his lips as Sam reaches in and hauls out his dick while he’s still kneeling up straddling Dean and Dean’s mouth falls open, he can’t help it.
Sam cries out like the way Dean looks is hurting him, and his fist wraps around his cock, squeezes the swollen flesh hard.
“Go ahead,” Dean rasps, barely able to get the words out, “Do it. Come on, I want you to, lemme watch, please Sam, do it right now, all over me.”
Sam’s eyes roll up and his mouth falls open as his hand strips his dick frantically. Dean watches the fat head pop through the circle of Sam’s big capable fingers, slick and drooling. Sam’s stomach muscles contract and his belly rolls with the intensity of it when he starts to come, and Dean knows he will never forget this moment as long as he lives, will never get the picture that Sam makes right now out of his brain.
Sam doesn’t make a sound, just rides it out, his thighs gripping Dean’s hips like a vise and his face contorted with pleasure. Drops hit Dean’s chest, his chin. A few land on his face, and he snakes his tongue out to lap up the stickiness. Sam’s eyes are open, and Sam does make a noise when he sees; he groans loudly, and his dick spurts weakly one more time.
“Jesuschrist Dean,” Sam says, staring down at the mess he’s made of his brother. Dean’s face is flushed, sweat darkening his hairline. He’s splattered with Sam’s come; on his cheek, his chin where there’s a shadow of stubble. There’s more on his neck right on top of the dark pink mark Sam’s teeth left on him, and if Sam hadn’t just shot his brains out he would be hard again seeing that. Dean’s tongue snakes out to lick up the drop at the corner of his mouth and the aftershock of pleasure that rockets through Sam is so intense it’s painful.
Sam scoots back a little and Dean gasps as Sam’s ass brushes over his erection.
Sam climbs off and pats Dean’s belly. “Okay, I gotcha, I gotcha.”
He unbuckles Dean’s belt and pops the button on his jeans. Dean props himself up on his elbows and watches Sam, eyes dark with arousal.
Lax with the aftereffects of his own climax, Sam takes his time sliding down the zipper. He bends down and kisses along Dean’s trapped length, drags his teeth up and down until Dean is whimpering.
“You gonna beg me, big brother?”
“Fuck,” Dean swears. Sam pulls Dean’s opened jeans down low on his hips and pushes his tee shirt up, wanting to see Dean’s lean body spread out for him. He leaves the black boxer briefs on, watching the way Dean’s erection strains against the cotton.
“So beautiful,” Sam whispers. He kisses Dean’s exposed chest, along the midline to his belly button and then lower, mouthing along Dean’s happy trail. He lifts his head when he gets to the waistband of Dean’s shorts and Dean makes a muffled complaint. He’s got his own arm flung over his face, trying to smother the sounds he can’t stop making. Sam chuckles and pulls Dean’s jeans down further, working them off and flinging them aside. He pushes Dean’s bare legs apart and crawls between them, kissing behind Dean’s knee where he’s ticklish and then higher, nipping and licking at the baby soft skin on the inside of his thighs. He spreads Dean wide to do it, and Dean moans loudly into his own arm at being manhandled like that. Sam can see Dean’s dick visibly twitch in his shorts, a wet spot spreading on the cotton.
“God fuck Sam god fuck fuck Sammy god” Dean is chanting and Sam doesn’t think he even knows he’s speaking, he’s so lost to the sensations of his body and the need to come.
He sucks hard at the tender flesh of Dean’s inner thigh, almost at the join of leg to pelvis, and Dean’s legs tremble. It’s intoxicating, turning his brother into a whimpering mess of pure need, and Sam wants to do this forever. He can feel his own body hardening again, helpless not to respond to the picture Dean makes beneath him.
“Please Sammy,” Dean begs breathlessly, and Sam takes pity, noses higher and rubs against Dean’s balls, feeling how tight they are under his shorts. He’s ready to go off, has been for too long; just that stimulation makes his thighs start shaking again as he squirms, hips jumping. Sam pushes Dean’s legs up higher, tight grip on both thighs to lift him up and get at him. Sam licks his balls through the cotton, then lower, stabbing his tongue in hard because he’s already thinking of doing this to Dean when they’re naked, and Dean squeaks when he feels what Sam’s doing, his whole body seizing up as he lets out a stream of curse words.
Sam just holds on, taking his time and getting the cotton wet, until the swollen head of Dean’s cock is just barely visible above the waistband of his shorts. Sam can’t wait then, can’t tease anymore; he tugs Dean’s shorts down below his balls and licks Dean’s dick when it springs free, all the way to the top and then back down again. Dean’s thick and hard as steel, and as soon as he feels Sam’s mouth on him, he pumps his hips up frantically and shoots hard, groaning loudly. Sam sinks down on him, takes as much as he can and swallows it down as he gets one hand around the base of Dean’s cock and fists him through his climax.
Dean falls back on the bed still cursing, and Sam can feel the frantic beat of his heart when he lays his head on Dean’s chest.
“You fucker,” Dean says from above him, “Fucking tease! You nearly killed me.”
Dean cuffs him on the back of the head, and Sam bites his stomach in retaliation.
“Ouch, fucker!” Dean says again, but his hand comes back, this time carding gently through Sam’s hair.
Sam falls asleep there, the sound of his brother’s heart beat and the feel of Dean’s fingers on his scalp lulling him under.
In the morning, he thinks he’s dreaming when he wakes up to a warm wet mouth on his morning wood. Dean stops what he’s doing to grin up at Sam.
“Morning, bitch,” he says, licking his lips.
“Morning, jerk,” Sam answers, and lays back down, spreading his legs so Dean has room to work. “So I guess we’re really doing this.”
He hums in appreciation of Dean’s oral skills and Dean hums back in acknowledgement, and Sam smiles.
Lucifer might not be dead and Michael might find his way through the portal at any moment, but if he does, Sam knows he was right about the thing that is most important.
Whatever they’re about to face, they’ll do it together.
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