runedgirl | There Was A Girl. And Then There Wasn't. (Sam/Dean) NC17

Title: There Was A Girl. And Then There Wasn’t
Word Count: 1817
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Sam/Dean

Summary: Dean is hurt that Sam didn’t look for him when he was in Purgatory. He’s kind of a dick about it. But Sam figures it out. Written for

smpc to brighten your morning!

That year, the time that Dean clawed his way out of Purgatory and found that Sam had hit a dog and taken up with some girl and never looked for him, that was the farthest apart they had ever been. So of course it’s when they got together.

It was there every time they looked at each other, in every conversation no matter how mundane. Dean couldn’t forget that Sam had ditched him for a girl. And Sam. Sam was back, but his heart wasn’t in it. Dean didn’t even know what Sam’s answer had meant when he’d worked up the nerve to ask.

Was there a girl?

There was a girl. And then there wasn’t.

Sam wouldn’t elaborate, didn’t want to talk about Amelia and the dog whose wet dog smell still clung to Baby’s leather seats when it rained. He stared out the window while Dean drove, didn’t know that Dean was watching, could see that wistful sad look in his eyes, the way he seemed to be hoping to see something different than the road they were driving on or the case they were working.

It hurt, every minute of every day. And Dean knew he was being an ass about it, knew he should take the time to really find out what had happened. He remembered Sam when it was finally Wednesday after all those Tuesdays when the Trickster kept taking him from Sam, the tsunami force of Sam’s relief and love as he was swept into a hug that went on and on. From what he knew, Sam wasn’t anywhere close to okay when Dean was gone that time. Cold, deadened, ruthless, desperate. That’s what he’d been back then. What made this time different, that Sam ditched his phones and left the life and shacked up with someone named Amelia?

They bickered over how to work the case, and which case to work. Big picture find Kevin and close the gates of hell, or small picture while they were up against a brick wall on that one, doing some saving people hunting things. Getting a win for once. They bickered over what to eat and where to shop and where to stop for the night. Dean couldn’t seem to stop himself from bringing it up again and again, until Sam glared at him with what looked like real hatred and asked if it made him feel that much better to keep saying it.

It didn’t.

And then Dean drank too much whisky one night and started going off about how there was a girl, of course there was a girl, and that was reason enough to not look for your brother – who was in fucking Purgatory nearly dying every second of every day and –

“Is that really what this is all about?”

Dean nearly fell off the bed from the sheer volume of Sam’s voice as he yelled from across the room.

“That I had a relationship – that I cared about someone else?”

Dean boggled, wavering as much from Sam’s rage as from the too much whisky. “What?” was all he could manage.

Sam stalked over, loomed above him. His face was red, and he was practically spluttering, he was so angry. “Because that’s what it sounds like, Dean! It sounds like what’s really got your panties in such a twist is that I dared to care about someone who wasn’t you! And you’re fucking jealous!”

The words hit Dean like Sam had actually struck him, and for a second he thought he was going to vomit, all over the bed he was sitting on. Then a cold sweat broke over him, like he was suddenly in the midst of a panic attack and didn’t know how to escape it. “Sam,” was all he could say, more frightened than he’d ever been in that entire year in Purgatory.

“Now you have nothing to say?” Sam demanded, “Because that’s rich, considering you’re CONSTANTLY ragging on me about how I gave up and left my responsibilities and blah blah blah but I think that’s just bullshit, because it’s really all about you, isn’t it?”

He was even closer now, right on top of Dean, and Dean looked up stupidly, openmouthed and struck dumb by the force of nature that was Sam, got stuck on those kaleidoscope eyes flashing bright with rage.

“Isn’t it?” Sam yelled, and reached down and hauled Dean up by the ears and smashed their mouths together just like that.

Dean was too drunk and too panicked to do anything but go limp, but Sam had enough energy for both of them. Sam’s big hands held up him up by the shoulders while Sam’s tongue pushed into his mouth, and Dean didn’t know if Sam was trying to kiss him or eat him alive. He didn’t care; he wanted either as long as it was Sam.

When Sam had made his point, he released Dean all at once and stepped back. Dean stumbled, more drunk than ever, half falling and half sitting back on the bed. Sam wiped his mouth with his sleeve, narrowed his eyes.

“Is that it?” he asked, quieter than before but there was just as much emotion behind it. “Is that what you’re pissed about, that someone else had my attention? My…”

He paused, and Dean waited, stomach curling in on itself.

“My love,” Sam finished, but he made the word sound wrong, like it wasn’t a good thing, like he’d changed his mind about loving Dean after all this time.

“Sammy,” Dean managed, because he couldn’t hear this if that was it, couldn’t.

“Or that someone else had my dick?” Sam sneered, and it was meant to hurt but it made Dean’s dick stand up so fast it was painful.

‘I—I’ve never had,” Dean started, but Sam interrupted him, waving his hand to dismiss whatever Dean was going to say and then approaching him again, stopping right in front of where Dean sat, practically trembling.

“But you want to,” Sam accused, and Dean was shocked and turned on simultaneously, because Sam didn’t know – couldn’t know – but here he was, saying it anyway.

Sam reached down and curled one hand around the back of Dean’s neck, fingers skittering through the short hairs there, and this time Dean did shiver.

He stood when Sam put pressure there, let Sam pull him in.

“Is that why you’re so mad?” Sam asked, and it was a whisper, their lips so close that Dean could feel the puff of breath when he spoke. “I hurt your feelings.”

Dean was silent, eyes almost crossed trying to see Sam in front of him.

“You were jealous. Jealous of that girl, of what you think we had.”

When Dean still didn’t answer, Sam grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, so hard that Dean’s teeth clacked together. Some of the drunken haze eased then, and Dean met Sam’s gaze.

“Maybe,” he admitted, and saw a tiny flash of teeth before Sam leaned in and kissed him again.

Sam kissed hungrily, reckless, still angry and taking it out on Dean’s mouth with lips and teeth. Dean didn’t care. He was burning, every clasp of Sam’s hands on his body like a brand, every wet slide of Sam’s tongue a burst of pleasure.

“Take it then,” Sam muttered, breaking the kiss just enough to speak and taking Dean by the wrist, pushing his hand down. Sam was hard in his jeans, so much of him there, and Dean moaned out loud before he could stop himself, let Sam push him to his knees. He fumbled getting Sam out, fingers clumsy with whisky and an overload of emotions that he couldn’t even decipher, but when he finally had Sam’s dick in his mouth, the world narrowed down to just that and he could breathe again. The feel of Sam, silky soft over steely hard, the weight on his tongue, the bitter taste; he moaned again, hand gripping the length he couldn’t take, tongue slurping at the rest, sloppy and uncoordinated. Sam didn’t seem to care, he was moaning now too, his hands raking through Dean’s hair, tugging where it was still too long.

“That’s right, that’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Sam mumbled, stupid cheesy porn dialogue but it worked on Dean anyway. He palmed his own dick as he sucked Sam’s, could feel his own thighs already trembling with approaching climax.

Sam came then, no warning and no tells because Dean didn’t know them, caught him off guard and nearly drowned him but Dean held on, choking and spluttering and slobbering all over himself but determined to take as much as he could manage.

He fell back when it was over, trying to get his own zipper down, but Sam reached down and hauled him back up again, kissed him hard and rough on the mouth and tossed him back on the bed. Dean almost climaxed just from the unexpected thrill of being manhandled by his gigantic little brother, gaping up at Sam as Sam’s hands knocked his out of the way and pulled him out. Sam dropped to his knees beside the bed and leaned over, and as soon as Dean realized what he intended to do, all his muscles seized and he curled up with a shout. Sam got him in his mouth just in time, sucked him through a climax so intense it made his toes cramp they curled so tight.

“God, fuck, jesuschrist,” he swore when he could speak again. Sam gave his spent dick a last lick and let him go, got up to wash out his mouth at the sink.

“I was out of my head,” Sam said from the bathroom.

“Just now?” Dean asked, already back in panic mode.

“When you disappeared. When you were just....gone."

Sam didn’t come out. Dean could hear the water running.

“Oh.”

“I think I was trying to run myself off the road when I hit that dog. Just….didn’t want to be anymore.”

“Jesus, Sammy.”

“Amelia was bossy – like you. Told me I needed to stay alive, that Riot needed me. That she needed me.”

Sam appeared in the doorway, drying his face with a towel. His eyes were moist.

“That’s what it was, Dean. It wasn’t that I finally got normal, it isn’t that I want normal. That’s it. That’s what she did for me. But it wasn’t…”

“Wasn’t what?”

Sam walked back to the bed, sat down beside Dean where he was still sprawled out like the mess he was.

“Wasn’t you.”

The whisky made Dean’s eyes get wet too, and he wiped at them impatiently. “Sorry,” he said, looking away. “I should’ve, should’ve asked about – should’ve tried to –“

“Not to be such a dick?” Sam finished for him.

Dean knew he deserved that, but he grabbed the towel Sam still held and snapped it at him in revenge anyway.

Sam grabbed it back and smacked Dean’s bare belly with it. Dean’s cock twitched, and Sam cocked an eyebrow.

“Guess you’ll have to make it up to me,” Sam said, smirking.

Dean did.