Fic: Deeper Down, (Sam/Dean, R) Part 2 of 2

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*****

“That was just me going to school, it wasn’t for forever, and it wasn’t me leaving you,” Sam said.

“You wanted out, you wanted normal, you wanted anything else but me and what I could give you, which wasn’t much. And you were right, I’m glad you got out, cause that’s what you have to fall back on when I’m gone, okay? You survived that just fine without me and you will again.”

Sam stopped all activity then, turned Dean’s head towards his carefully and held it in place so that Dean could really see his expression. “You idiot, I only survived all that time at school, because I knew you were still out there hunting with Dad, alive and kicking and leaving me drunken voicemails.”

“Oh…uh, you got those? You never said anything about them,” Dean said, picking the most inconsequential thing out, of course.

“I played them over and over again, kept all of them. Even the ones with you breathing and falling asleep or passing out. It was all I had of you, it kept me going.”

“You weren’t gonna come back to me though, Sammy, we both know that. You had Jess, you were planning to marry her, and do law school and everything else that woulda come next.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, that’s true, but it’s not for the reasons you think. I thought I could keep you safe from knowing.”

“Knowing what?”

“I can’t, it’s not something I should ever—“ Sam stopped himself, gulping the words back down where they needed to stay, tangled up in the dark wretched parts of himself.

“I’m probably gonna forget all this anyway, with this concussion and all,” Dean gestured at the purple egg on his temple.

“How about this, I’ll tell you when we make it back to the car, that’ll give you something to stay awake for, how about that?” Sam asked the question, but didn’t wait for the answer. He started his climb up the pit wall, using the beams for hand and foot holds. Soon, he was raising Dean up, hauling him up, hand over hand on the rope, his own weight braced against a beam for any sudden drops.

Dean’s face was upturned, eyes locked on his, and Sam could see the moment when Dean figured it out. Dean’s face flushed a deep pink and he got this brilliant smile as he approached the edge of the pit. Sam got his hands under Dean’s arms and hoisted him back up onto the tunnel floor trying to be careful of his possibly broken rib. They laid there together, Sam panting hard at the exertion, Dean trembling from the adrenaline of the no doubt painful ascent.

“You’re really hurting, aren’t you?” Sam asked.

“If I say yes, what’ll you be able to do for me?”

“Give you the last two Advils I have with me, would that help?”

Dean nodded, slowly, obviously trying not to jar his head too much more. Sam dug around in his pack, and pressed the two pills between Dean’s lips, following it quickly with the last full water bottle.

Sam didn’t let his fingers linger on his brother’s lips like he wanted to, but he did let himself watch Dean wrap those lips around the water bottle and drink. He saw it again, really clearly, Dean knew, he’d figured it out. Dean was looking at him differently.

“Tell me now,” Dean said.

“You already figured it out, c’mon don’t make me say it,” Sam said, “and sure as fuck not before I still have to haul your ass all the way back to the damn car.”

Sam got his arms through the harness that he’d made for Dean and hoisted him up and over, settling him onto his back. He stepped carefully, one foot after another, following the markers they’d left for themselves until he could finally see the pinprick of light up ahead. He thought Dean had passed out again, but then Dean started whistling, and wound his arms around Sam’s chest hugging him from behind. At first Sam didn’t recognize the tune, but then he did, blushing furiously.

“I can see you’re blushing, the back of your neck is all pink,” Dean said as they came out into the harsh sunlight.

“Maybe I’m just embarrassed for you to be whistling old seventies schlocky love songs.”

“It’s actually an early eighties song, and I don’t think Journey is schlocky.”

Sam didn’t answer, he just kept up the steady plod through the sandy terrain back to the car. Thankfully Dean stopped whistling and held on just enough so that Sam didn’t have to worry about dropping him. Dean’s arms were still around Sam’s chest, his legs locked around Sam’s hips. Eventually the sharp black gleam of the Impala caught Sam’s eye, and he sped up his pace. Dean clamped onto him a little tighter in response and Sam viciously pushed down the way his body automatically responded to having Dean surrounding him.

He had Dean propped against the Impala’s trunk while he struggled to figure out where the keys were. Dean chuckled as Sam’s hands went from jacket pockets, up to his flannel shirt chest pocket, to the pockets on the back of his jeans.

“C’mon, Sammy, you notice everything, so you know I always put my keys in my right front jeans pocket.” Dean stretched out enough so that Sam had enough access to pull the Impala keys out of said pocket.

Sam’s fingers lingered and pressed just long enough for him to notice that Dean was hard. Even though he held the keys now, he couldn’t move his hand away completely. Dean watched him as he stretched his palm out flat over where the front of Dean’s jeans bulged out, pressing the keys and his hand in and flexing as Dean responded with a groan. The sound of his brother’s groan made Sam reflexively remove his hand, but it was stopped with Dean’s, pressing him back into place.

“Don’t stop just cause I’m makin’ a little noise,” Dean said.

“I stopped because…you’re injured,” Sam said, nodding at the purple egg on Dean’s temple. “you’re…uh, not acting like yourself.”

“And let me guess, you don’t want to—what, take advantage of me or somethin’?”

Sam nodded, wincing at how much harder Dean was now, right under his hand, only the denim between their skin. Somehow Dean was arching up into Sam’s hand, rocking and pressing himself up to get some friction. He could see the desperation on Dean’s face even with his eyes half-open, focused down on where his hand gave Dean steady pressure.

It took a few more hip thrusts from Dean, almost knocking himself from his perch on the Impala’s trunk until Sam overcame his internal freakout and got onboard with the situation. He got Dean settled a little further back on the trunk lid and then quickly undid both of their flies. Before he could talk himself out of it, he had them both in hand, curling it up into a loose fist that was just the right fit for both of them. It was wet and hot and a complete mess, but he didn’t care, not when Dean’s hands were scrabbling on his back, drifting down to his ass. Or his lips were covering Sam’s throat in desperate kisses. Finally he tipped his head down and met Dean’s lips with his own, they both shivered and groaned, the spark between them igniting into its own force. He felt swept away, off into another time and place where this was allowed.

Dean was first, coating Sam’s hand, making it so slick and that much hotter, so that Sam couldn’t stop himself, groaning out Dean’s name as he let himself fall over the edge. He closed his eyes and felt the way they were connected, sealed together, hot and sticky, pulses racing in time and panting like they’d sprinted across a finish line. He didn’t want to let go, or say anything or ever move from this perfect moment where everything was okay and no one was going to hell in a few months.

It didn’t work, Sam couldn’t stop himself from going there, once he’d thought about the few months he had left with Dean. How could he have done this, put himself in this situation? Especially when he knew that it was all going to go to shit so soon, it was going to be so much harder now. He let go of both of them and pushed Dean away from him with too much force, the back of Dean’s head hit the back window with a loud thunk. His brother laid there in the sun, looking up at him with hooded eyes like some porno daydream, all fucked-out and beautiful.

“You always that forceful?” Dean asked, those plush lips moving over the words like they’d just moved over his skin.

“Why’d you let me do that to you, huh?” Sam demanded, holding himself around his middle with both arms.

“Let you? To me? Dude, I was there, right with you,” Dean said, now propped up on his elbows, his gaze steady on Sam’s face.

“I wasn’t supposed to ever tell you, I never wanted you to know,” Sam said, hating that he knew he was blushing.

Dean smiled, warm and mocking like he wasn’t supposed to be getting this much honesty and the fucker knew it. “I know, Sammy, but it’s not like I’m mad about it, like I just said, I was right there with you, the whole time.”

“You were?” Sam asked, hating how he sounded like some idiot kid, instead of a man who had pretty much known exactly that.

“This isn’t something you made happen by saving my ass from falling in the stupid mine, it’s always been there, waiting for the right time or whatever.”

“The right time,” Sam barked a sarcastic laugh and closed his eyes against the flash of hurt on Dean’s face.

Dean scrambled off the Impala and turned away, fumbling with his clothes and getting in the passenger door. He had it slammed shut before Sam could even form a coherent explanation.

Sam looked at him through the back window, his brother’s shoulders were hunched up around level with his ears. He was radiating hurt of all kinds, emotional, physical, all of it. And Sam had done a lot of that damage just now. Like an idiot, he’d said the wrong thing. He sighed and tucked himself back into his jeans, putting himself back together. He walked around to the driver’s side and steeled himself to deal with an injured Dean, always off-balance when he wasn’t the one driving, and now with all of this too. He struggled with coming up with what the hell he could say to put this right, to make it be okay. If he only had a few months left with Dean, then he didn’t want to lose a single day to them fighting.

He slid behind the wheel and got the keys in the ignition, before he turned the car on, it came to him. He turned to look at Dean, head tipped back on the window, eyes slitted but still watching him, the purpling goose egg on his temple the only thing marring his perfection.

“I wasn’t laughing about this not being the right time for this,” he motioned between them with one hand, unsure whether he could put it into words what the hell it really meant or even was. “I was just laughing about the timing, you with that goose egg, me with my post-Mystery Spot issues, but then when would really be the right time for us?”

“Us?” Dean murmured, lips caressing that word like it usually did Sam’s own nickname.

Sam leaned way over, getting in Dean’s space, holding his brother’s eyes as he said the last thing he knew he needed to say to put things right. “Yes, us, Dean, as in: you and me.”

“Well, when you put it like that, Sammy,” Dean said with a slow one-sided smile that pulled his lips into the most delectable curve.

Sam couldn’t resist, he leaned forward and kissed his brother’s smile. Licking into his mouth, going deeper, investigating, searching for what would make Dean respond. It didn’t take long, the moan Dean let out when Sam nibbled at his lower lip, sucking hard told him everything he needed to know.