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smalltrolven) wrote2018-06-11 12:54 pm
Fic: Second Time Around (Sam/Dean, NC-17) 4 of 4
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Sam was a surprisingly good cook, it wasn’t anything fancy, just hamburgers and a nice salad. Dean was impressed though, another thought of how good it could be for Sam to live like this, his soul unsullied by memories of hell and death and destruction. Sam practically floated around the kitchen, it was just plain fun to watch him move while he worked.
Maybe it was a similar thing for his Sam back home, watching him in the kitchen. He’d never questioned why Sam would do research in there just before mealtimes. And he did occasionally find Sam watching him while he cooked. Maybe there was something there that he hadn’t admitted before. The phrase erotically codependent from Zachariah earlier that day suddenly sprang up. Was that the lesson? That this was something they could have back in their real world? He internally scoffed, but apparently made the noise out loud.
“What? Thought you were having fun ogling me while I’m slaving away on your dessert,” Sam said, one hand on his hip and one eyebrow cocked up.
“Can we skip it?” Dean asked, prowling forward, all thoughts of Zachariah, Chuck and Amara blown away by how sexy Sam was just then.
“Two nights in a row with no dessert?” Sam said with a sly grin.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Dean said, slotting their bodies together, pressing Sam against the counter. They kissed slow and longing, not hurried or rushed, not frantic, just a perfect slow exploration. Dean felt himself going weak in the knees, that was actually a real thing, who knew? Sam must have noticed because he turned them around and hoisted Dean up onto the counter.
Sam kissed away the objections Dean was starting to raise at being manhandled. “Just stop, dude, you love it, we both know that,” Sam said.
“Want you, Sammy,” Dean said, sounding so desperate he felt himself blush hot and red all over in a mad flush.
“I know, I want you too, you feel?” Sam asked, pressing Dean’s hand to cover his hard-on. “God you get me so hot, so fast, Dean,” Sam said, trailing teasing kisses up the side of his neck.
Dean began to feel a little strange, even stupid just sitting there on Sam’s counter and started to get down.
“No, just stay there,” Sam said with a firm hand to his stomach. That hand opened his jeans and took him out. Before Dean could react, Sam’s mouth was engulfing him, first sucking in the head of his cock then taking in even more of Dean’s length. Sam’s head bobbed up and down as he started up a fantastic rhythm.
Dean groaned and let one of his hands tangle in Sam’s hair. “Damn, Sammy, that’s so good,” Dean groaned as he felt the softness at the back of Sam’s throat. He thrust up and past it, going all the way down. Sam sped up, sucking harder and faster. Dean couldn’t help his thrusts, he squeezed his eyes shut and came hot and hard down Sam’s throat. “Sammy!“ he shouted as the wave of pleasure hit him.
Sam was scrambling up, taking down his jeans and jacking himself fast and furious, kissing Dean with his dirty mouth, god it tasted like heaven, his seed on Sam’s lips, that taste together, he’d always wanted to know. Now he had to, just absolutely had to taste Sam for himself.
“No, my turn now,” Dean said, hopping off the counter on unsteady legs. He dropped to his knees and pushed Sam up against the counter. Sam fed his cock into Dean’s open and waiting mouth, one slow inch at a time. Dean looked up through his wet eyelashes and could see him, his Sam, his Sammy, losing himself to the pleasure. He sucked harder and faster than he‘d ever thought possible. He felt it deep inside his throat then, just how much Sam was filling him and he laughed for the joy of it.
The vibrations from that laugh were the last straw for Sam, he tried to pull Dean off, but Dean clamped his hands on Sam’s hips and fucked his mouth down harder. The taste, the heat of it filling his mouth. He’d always wanted this, oh god, it was so good.
Sam was pulling him up into his arms, and Dean couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think past the taste as Sam kissed him deeply, their flavors combining into something Dean had never dared imagine. It was perfect. “What do you mean you always wanted to taste it?” Sam asked against his lips.
“You, always wanted to taste this, uh..us together,“ Dean said, dazed, forgetting which Sam he was kissing, which Sam he was tasting. It was his Sam, just with one thing missing.
“I know what you mean by always, even though we’ve only known each other like a week. It seems like I’ve wanted this for basically forever.”
“Can we, I mean, would you mind if I stayed?” Dean asked, feeling the sleepiness of post-orgasm bliss come over him. He let himself sink even further into Sam’s embrace.
Sam chuckled against the side of Dean’s head and began leading him down the short hall to his bedroom. “You are always welcome in my bed, Dean, always.”
Dean shivered at Sam’s words as his heart processed what they meant without his brain getting in the way. It was all confirmed with the gentle way Sam removed his clothes and tucked him into bed. They were wrapped up together under the quilt, and Dean felt himself sinking into sleep.
“Feels like this was a long time coming, like it was meant to be or something,” Sam said.
“Same here, Sammy, same for me, I’m glad you gave me another chance,” Dean said.
“I always will, I’m not going to give up on you Dean,” Sam said.
“You never have, Sammy, not once,” Dean said.
The morning came and something was different, he was naked, and there was a warm body wrapped around him, breathing slow and steady in a pattern he recognized. The smell of sex and Sam combined woke Dean up in an instant, there was a moment of freezing panic.
“It’s okay, Dean. I figured it out, who I am, who we are,” Sam said in that sleepy quiet voice that always made Dean feel lucky to hear it.
“You did, you do?” Dean asked, turning in Sam’s arms so he could look at his face. “Since when?”
“After you fell asleep, I started thinking about how you talked about us. You said I’d never given up you, not once, which seemed strange.I got up and tried calling Jo again, but got the same message. So I started researching, and there’s no Sam Wesson, not since like a week ago. And there’s not a Dean Smith either. It all came back to me when I got back into bed and saw your tattoo in the light from the bathroom. I remembered you holding my hand while I got it all those years ago, and when I got it fixed up just recently. You held my hand so tightly, kept me distracted from the pain. And then I saw the marks I’d left on you last night. It all crashed in on me while I remembered.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You were so, um…so beautiful, asleep in my bed, finally after all these years.”
“Wait, you mean…” Dean trailed off, unable to finish the question, it was too big to put into words.
“Yeah, this is what I’ve always wanted,” Sam said.
“It’s not though, you never would have gone after me if you’d known who we were, that we’re brothers. You wanted normal, Sam. You wanted out, remember?”
“No, I only wanted out because I thought I couldn’t ever have a chance at this, couldn’t have you,” Sam said.
“Shit, so I did do it, I screwed you up for life, I’m sorry, Sammy, I wish—“ Dean stopped himself.
“Wish what, Dean?”
“Wish I’d been able to resist you here in this world, but I wasn’t strong enough,” Dean said.
“Hold on, hold on. First of all, you didn’t screw me up for life, Dean. This is all me, since I figured out what loving someone meant. It was you, Dean, always has been. And you were plenty strong here, believe me. I almost gave up, thought you didn’t want me, didn’t even want to try.”
“I never wanted you to know,” Dean said.
“Why the hell not? We could have had this for years, Dean. We could have made each other so happy, I know we could have.”
“No, it wasn’t right, I shouldn’t have, god, Sammy, I’m so sorry. I took advantage of you last night. I can’t make…I should just go.” Dean untangled himself from Sam and stood up, quickly putting his clothes back on. He was surprised that Sam didn’t say anything.
“Still not giving up on you.” Sam’s whisper followed him out the door and back to his car. His brother’s quiet words penetrated him deeply but they weren’t enough to block out the wave of self-loathing that came over him. He pounded the steering wheel of the Prius, breaking off a piece of plastic.
“Piece of shit car!” Dean yelled as he pressed the accelerator down to the floor. The Prius eventually leapt into action, and he was speeding down the expressway. He didn’t know where he was going, what he should do next. They needed to get out of this fucking place, back to where everything made sense, where everything stayed in its place, where he’d stuffed it and hidden it. He felt so exposed here, so naked and afraid that Sam could see all of him.
“It’s a lot isn’t it?” Chuck asked from the passenger seat.
“Yeah, it’s probably too much for a human mind to deal with,” Amara agreed from the back seat.
Dean was proud of himself for not swerving into the semi next to him in the other lane. “Guys! I’m doing ninety in fucking Prius here, not such a great time to just pop in!”
“You’re doing great, sweetie,” Amara smirked from the back seat.
“I know it’s a total dad move, but mister, you need to turn this car around right now,” Chuck said.
“You can’t make me, oh shit never mind. Just kill me and put me out of my misery already,” Dean said, feeling completely defeated.
“This whole lesson wasn’t just about you, or your self-imposed bullshit misery, Dean. You’re going to go back to Sam’s place, let him fix you breakfast, and give you one last chance.”
“Fine,” Dean grumped, signaling for the exit. He headed the car back towards Sam and already his heart felt lighter.
“See, you feel that, right?” Amara said with a manic grin that was scary to see in the rear view mirror. “That’s what we’re talking about!”
Both of them winked out again, leaving Dean to listen to the rest of an NPR story about a family that had returned to New Orleans, all these years after Katrina. It kept his mind off what he had to do next, which was to put an end to this and get them out of this place.
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Sam was just putting another waffle to cook in the waffle iron on his kitchen counter. He had two mugs of steaming coffee on the table too.
“You knew I’d come back?” Dean asked, standing in Sam’s kitchen doorway.
Sam shrugged, not looking at Dean, fiddling with the waffle iron until it beeped. He forked up the golden brown waffle and laid it on a plate that already had two waffles covered in foil on it. He set the plate on the table next to the coffees and sat down. Dean watched as Sam methodically covered the waffle in pats of butter, smearing them around until they’d melted into all the squares, then covered the whole thing in maple syrup. His mouth watered and he got over himself. He sat down at the place Sam had made for him, at his breakfast table, and in his life. Sam smiled and clinked their coffee mugs together in a little salute or welcome.
“I’m going to call in sick this morning,” Dean said, after he’d eaten two waffles and drained his coffee.
“I already did,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair and looking out the window at the street below.
“Sammy, we’re stuck here until we learn a lesson,” Dean said, trying to begin at the beginning of the case, like they always did.
“Yeah, I know, I had a visit from them while you were out having your little freakout or whatever the hell that was,” Sam said, swirling the remaining coffee in his mug.
“Amara put Mom back in her Heaven,” Dean said.
“Yeah, they told me. Probably for the best, she wasn’t happy with us.”
“We have to figure this out, I can’t live like this,” Dean said, gesturing to the strange world around them.
“You mean with me, like this, or just the world?” Sam asked.
“Just the world,” Dean said, “I want to be like this with you, but in our world.”
Sam set his mug down and finally met Dean’s eyes. Dean saw then how much he’d hurt this man by leaving, how much it cost Sam to not give up on him.
“You’ve never given up on me, Sammy, not once in our whole lives. And I’ve probably taken advantage of that one time too many by now. But if you’ll have me, I’d like to try.”
Sam’s face flushed red and hot, and he blinked several times, obviously trying not to cry. Dean’s heart sank, he’d pushed it too far, used up too much of Sam’s forgiving nature. They were never getting out of here.
“You idiot, it’s not even a question,” Sam said, quiet and tense. “And that you don’t know that by now, is maybe a problem.”
“I do know that, I was just trying to make sure you knew you had a choice,” Dean said.
Sam chuckled a little. “Chuck is all about personal agency now, I heard the whole spiel from Amara. She’s still a little unclear on the concept.”
“So what do you choose then?” Dean asked, heart in his throat that Sam wouldn’t or couldn’t answer.
Sam stood up and waited a few beats, then he scooped Dean up into his arms. “You, Dean, in case you haven’t noticed, I always choose you.”
Dean looked up into Sam’s eyes and saw it all, every time a choice had come, when Sam had the option, he’d chosen Dean. And it was the same for him. Sam was right, they had both been idiots all these years.
In the morning sunbeams that were coming in through Sam’s kitchen windows Dean leaned up and kissed him, sure and true. It was a blur after that, but they were back in Sam’s bed and he had his fingers inside, opening Sam up. Sam was handing him lube and stroking it along his hard cock and it felt like the first time and all the other times they should have…could have as he pressed into his brother’s body.
Sam held him, deep inside, hot and close, a perfect fit. They moved together, push and pull, thrust and carry, until they couldn’t hold back, both coming with their lips pressed together, their names feeding into each other’s mouths.
He woke up to knocking, someone knocking on his door. And it smelled like Sam again, thank god, but home too. They were in his bed, naked, still entwined. Dean pulled out of Sam as slowly as he could, Sam humphed and turned over into his pillow pulling the covers over his head. Dean grabbed his robe and pulled it on.
“Yeah?” Dean asked as he opened the door, tying the robe’s belt tightly around his waist.
Jack’s smiling face greeted him. “Good morning, Dean, could you tell me where the extra coffee is? I couldn’t find it and I wanted to make some for you and Sam.”
Dean smiled and led Jack down the hall, closing his door quietly behind him. “Let’s let him sleep in a little more, huh? I’ll show you where it is. Feel like making waffles for breakfast?”
“Those are the square pancakes, right?” Jack asked.
“Yep, those are the ones,” Dean said, turning the lights on in their kitchen.
“If you show me how, I’ll make them,” Jack said.
“Sure, kid we’ll get the waffle iron heating up and mix up some batter. The coffee’s in the cabinet over the fridge, up there,” Dean said pointing it out.
Jack got the coffee down while Dean got out the bag of pancake mix and his favorite bowl.
“Now, the trick is to use warm water, it gets the batter rising up nice and fluffy,” Dean said. Neither of them noticed Sam slipping into the kitchen and seating himself gingerly at the table.
Dean finally did catch a glimpse of Sam watching him show Jack the right technique to pour into a hot waffle iron. And now he knew that the smile on his brother’s face was sweeter than any syrup he’d ever tasted.
The End
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