WincestMas 2017 (Sam/Dean, G-NC-17) Part 4 of 4

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New Year Resolutions

Dean chuckled as he sat at Sam's desk to read the notebook he'd left open on the desk. What? He knew it was wrong to, of course he did. But brothers will be brothers, and they weren't supposed to be hiding shit between them these days, right? That's how he justified it to himself, until he got to the last page of writing dated 1/1/18:

2018 Resolutions and To-Do’s

• Say NO more and stick to it


• Complete the digitization of the MoL files project


• Plant vegie/herb garden on hill behind bunker, ignore Dean about it.

What the heck would Sam be thinking he should be saying no to? Was he going to go back to the insufferable "no" era Dean could still vividly remember from when Sam was around eight.

The digitizing project, that was so Sam, so nerdy, but so useful. It had already come in really handy on a couple of hunts. He knew he needed to help more with it, he guessed that should go on his list.

A garden, oh man, guess who was going to get asked to build walls and beds and benches and watering systems. Well it would be something to do, and it'd get them outside. Why would he want to ignore me though?

• Remember to wear the lingerie more often, not just when he asks


• Learn two new languages - Aramaic and Japanese


• Remember to buy ironing starch spray for Dean to use instead of beer

Oh he liked the first one very very much. There were a whole lot of possibilities there, and maybe he'd have to give Sam a few new things to wear. The next two on the list, eh, whatever floated his brother's boat.

• Keep journalling daily, about current and past stuff  (Note To Me: It is really truly helping my memory)


• Restock my Impala survival stash after every case (Order Lara Bars again)

Was Sam's memory really giving him that much trouble, or was he just worrying about it? Yet another thing to put on the list to worry about, probably why he should me reading this list. Oh god not more Lara Bars, those things gave him the runs last time.

• Pray every day (it’s worth a try right?)


• Find a better hiding place for my shampoo/conditioner (or buy in bulk)


• Have copies of the family photos made, buy frames for my room

Something about Sam praying still bothered him, he knew it probably helped him, but he still hated to think that he was getting his hopes up about getting an actual answer. Chuck was long gone. The shampoo thing had just been a joke, didn't Sam know that? Although the stuff did smell really good, he didn't use much of it when he snuck it, really. And as if Sam could really find a better hiding place. Shoot, he should have thought of the photos thing, that would have been a good Christmas present, better than the skin mags and beer.

• Ask Gina for the cherry pie recipe next time we’re in town and learn to make it


• Always Remember Why I’m Still Hunting (hint starts with a D)

Pie, yeah it'd be really nice if Sam could learn to make that cherry pie. But this last one, did he read it right? D could be a lot of things, Dad, Dead Family, Determination, Drive, or his name. Before he could really decide or delve into what that might really mean, he heard a noise at Sam's doorway and his stomach fell in dismay. Sam was back early from his run, and his face looked as stormy as the weather outside had when he'd checked earlier.

"Catching up on some reading, huh?" Sam asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway.

“Uh…’m sorry,” Dean said, not meeting Sam’s eyes. “It caught my eye when I was bringing in your laundry.” He gestured at the full laundry basket with neatly folded clothes sitting on the floor next to him.

Sam stepped into the room and stood behind the desk chair, he set his hands heavily on Dean’s shoulders. “It’s not okay with me that you’re snooping in my stuff. But, it’s not like it was top secret or anything. I mean, you probably knew all this stuff already, right?”

Dean was surprised that it sounded like he was getting a free pass on this one. He leaned back and looked at his brother from the upside view. This instant forgiveness meant he had to repay it to Sam somehow to keep it fair. “I like the garden idea, want some help with it?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, which looked really hilarious from upside down. Dean tried and failed to control his giggle.

“You laughing about helping with my garden?” Sam asked, eyebrows now drawn together in confusion heading towards worry.

Dean’s giggles tapered off as he watched the storm clouds start to return over his brother’s brow. He reached up and tugged Sam down for a kiss that turned urgent all in a heart-stopping rush. “Just laughing at your upside down face,” Dean murmured against Sam’s lips, delving in for another deep kiss.

Sam sighed into Dean’s mouth and spun the chair around, situating himself between Dean’s spread legs. Dean’s arms were around Sam’s back at waist level, his face pressed into Sam’s hard belly. He rested there for a moment, eyes closed, just feeling the desire and need spiral up through him, familiar as his hands on the Impala’s wheel. Sam’s hands were in his hair then, pulling his head back, tipping his face up so that he could be kissed breathless again.

Dean’s hands automatically began undoing Sam’s jeans, pulling his hard length out, his mouth already watering. Sam’s hands relaxed on his head, stopped pulling his hair, letting him take his time licking and suckling. Dean smiled around the weight of Sam on his tongue at Sam’s moans. He flicked his eyes up to see Sam looking down at him in astonishment.

“How is this always so damn good?” Sam asked, his eyes sparkling with some combination of lust and maybe…yeah probably, love.

Dean reluctantly let Sam out of the suction of his mouth. “One of my resolutions, Sammy,” Dean said, sucking him back inside and taking him even further into his throat as he chuckled. He had to hold Sam’s ass more tightly as his brother’s knees seemed to buckle at that. Sam’s hips began to move in a quick rhythm that told him it had worked, he chuckled again and swallowed down his brother’s release.

“God, you’re…” Sam said, not finishing his sentence, but diving down to kiss Dean deeply, tasting himself with another moan. “Got any other resolutions I need to know about?”

Dean stood up into the circle of Sam’s arms and sighed as they melded together. “About that lingerie thing, yeah,” Dean said.

Sam laughed out loud at that and Dean soaked up the feeling of the vibration in his ribcage of that sudden joy. “What about it?”

“I’m gonna get you something new to wear, saw something about a vinyl catsuit, with access panels in the back of one of my magazines,” Dean said.

Sam’s laughter continued until his whole body shook with it. It was utterly glorious to be held by him as he laughed. “Good luck finding that in my size, but if you do, I’ll totally wear it.”

“Damn right you will, that’s not something you’re saying no to,” Dean said, remembering the first thing on Sam’s resolutions list.

“That was more of a work related resolution by the way, not having to do with this,” Sam said, circling his hand between them.

“You mean our relationship? Thought you couldn’t have one if you couldn’t even say it, Sammy,” Dean teased.

“That another one of your resolutions? Using words that I don’t expect to hear?” Sam teased right back.

“Damn right,” Dean said, pushing Sam backwards towards the bed. “Especially if it gets me this when I want it.”

                                                            
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One Second After Midnight

Sam’s phone rings at exactly one second after midnight on the first New Year’s Eve he’s ever spent apart from his brother. After four months of silence, his phone is finally ringing.  He’s alone in his dorm room, most of the two dollar bottle of champagne is gone and he’s not picking up, goddamnit—just, no.

He flops back on the bed and crosses his arms over his chest, painfully aware that he’s actually pouting as the phone finishes ringing for the tenth time and thankfully goes to voice mail. Damn—he forgot about that possibility. Does he want Dean to leave a message? Yeah honestly he really really does and he might or might not reply to it. Depends on what his brother says.

Sam lets himself imagine the things he’d like to hear on a New Year’s Eve voice message from Dean, his deepest darkest fantasy is his brother’s rumbling voice telling him how much he wants him and misses him and is coming that night to claim him. But that’s not going to happen and he’s tried his best these last four months to forget all that. But years of pining are hard to just stow away and pretend they didn’t ever happen. Like it’s still happening and will never stop.

Mostly he just wants to hear something along the lines that Dean can’t deal with life without him. That would make it better somehow, knowing that Dean had a hard time with his absence. That it wasn’t a one-way thing, at least about the just brothers part. Because he knows that’s the only way Dean feels about him. He’d had to leave because of it, he’d come to close to telling him so many times that last summer together. It would have ruined everything. (like leaving for Stanford didn’t? yeah right)

The you-have-a-message buzz sounds on his phone then, interrupting his thoughts. So Dean did leave one, that’s a nice surprise, Happy Fucking New Year to me, maybe he still does care, he snarks to himself. Who knew champagne would make him go so dark?

Given all that, would it be better for both of them to just not communicate at all? Listening to the message is the first step to deciding, it all depends on what Dean actually says on the thing. Sam finishes off the last glass of champagne and keys in his lock code. His thumb hovers over the listen to messages button and he closes his eyes in a quick prayer, Please, let him at least miss me. I don’t want anything more than that, I promise, please.

Dean’s voice is washing over him then, familiar and deep, rumbling with emotion and humor as he describes the bar he just left in Reno, Nevada.

“Shoulda seen it, Sammy. Uh—sorry, Sam, gotta get that right, blame it on the booze, alright? There were three girls up on the bar, dancing in barely anything, guys were throwing money at them like it was a strip club. And the girls didn’t even work there, the owner came back from a smoke break and kicked them all out. The customers all just started throwing punches and tearing up the place. I had to get outta there, and then I saw it had just gone over midnight.”

Sam hears a familiar squeak and thud of the Impala’s driver door, the sounds of Dean settling into the driver’s seat.

“Now I’m back in the Impala, thank god it’s quiet in here, that bar was way too loud, some new music I didn’t like was playing, Pearl Jelly or something like that. Anyway…I just wanted to call, since we haven’t talked in a while.”

There’s a long pause, where all the unsaid stuff lay, sparkling and sharp in the darkness and distance between them.

“I wish you’d picked up, it’d be nice to hear your voice, I wanna know if the squeak is finally gone from it or not, I’m betting it is. I’ve been trying to come up with an excuse to come visit you that doesn’t sound too lame. But it always just comes down to I want to see your stupid face. And…I’m pretty sure you’re busy, obviously you are since you didn’t pick up.”

Sam hears his brother’s voice trail off as he imagined the reasons why Sam wouldn’t have picked up the phone. He laughs to himself about how exactly wrong Dean is and how if he calls Dean back and confesses he’s alone with an empty bottle of cheap champagne, Dean would think he was even lamer than he’d ever imagined.

“I hope you’re at a great New Year’s Eve party tonight, Sammy. And that you had someone to kiss at midnight. You deserve that, I want that for you. Not being stuck in a motel room alone with me somewhere watching the stupid Dick Clark thing for the millionth time.”

Sam hears something that is either a sniffle or a gulp from his brother then, either option makes him immeasurably sad, that Dean thinks he wouldn’t have wanted that more than anything tonight. The tv countdown leading to the traditional head-nougies at midnight that always turned into epic tickle battles, his brother’s hands on him, his attention and care focused just on him.

“Anyways, happy new year and everything, Sammy, I wish…nah, never mind about that now, ’s not important. I just hope you call back sometime when you get a chance.”

The message ends there with all that false cheer and lightness. Sam’s heart feels like it’s being squeezed inside his chest, just at the thought of what Dean had stopped himself from saying. He’d never know now, unless he calls Dean back. And that's the last thing he has time to think before he falls asleep, phone still in his hand, decision still unmade.