roxy. Somedy Never Comes 6

When Bobby finally found Dean, he was sprawled across the hood of the Impala, arms wide, feet propped up on the bumper. His eyes were fixed upward, the security light on the corner of the parts barn lit the damp trails on his cheeks. He'd been avoiding everyone the last few days—since he'd read the journal--Sam most especially, and Sam was making everyone pay for it. To say it was tense in the Singer household was like saying the Grand Canyon was a pretty big ditch.

"Boy…"

"Why us? Why are we cursed?" he asked, as if he and Bobby had been having a conversation about that very thing. Bobby kept quiet, waiting for Dean to go on. "First it was that shit with dad, now this—this thing hanging over our heads. How'm I gonna keep him safe, hunh? Tell me how the fuck I'm gonna do that?"

"Son, that's what all the trainings been about—not so you can run off and be hunters—there's whole lot of competent hunters out there. No, this has all been about Sam, making sure no supernatural thing can get the jump on him. He can do it—he's smart, he's tough, he has the knowledge to protect himself. Nothing else needs to change. You go to school like you should have and Sam's gonna go to some school somewhere and he'll be warned and armed—he'll be fine, mark my words."

Dean threw his hand up. "That's stupid, Uncle Bobby, damn! You know damn well Sam can't do it on his own. He needs help, he needs me."

"Dean…" Bobby remembered yelling at Sam, telling him Dean wasn't going to be with him the rest of his life and here it seemed Dean was volunteering to throw his whole life away for Sam. It came to him that this was the whole reason he'd dragged his heels telling Dean--subconsciously, he'd known what Dean's reaction was going to be.

Dean rolled to his side and caught Bobby's eyes. "You're feeling guilty—you think I'm about to lose everything. I get you wanted me to live my own life and Sam live his, but—I don’t care. I don’t care if I have to follow Sam the rest of his life. I feel like…I'm supposed to. It's what I want. Fuck…" he rolled his shoulders up off the car and came to rest with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. "How can I let him go off by himself?"

Bobby swallowed hard, said, "You never wanted to let him go at all. I'm not stupid, boy. I see. I can't say I understand it--now or ever--but I see it."

Dean startled like a shot fawn, his eyes skittered over Bobby's face and away. He'd gone the color of moonlight, freckles like charcoal spatters across his skin in the light of the moon. "I don't know what—"

"Save it for the idiots. This is me. I guess…if I was your birth flesh and blood I'd be kicking the daylights out of you right now, but I'm." He shook his head. "Shit, I don't know. I do know how your brother is. He's always thought you belonged to him. Not ever gonna be truly happy until he's stamped his mark all over you."

Dean slid off the hood of the car and landed hard, still not meeting Bobby's eyes. "I'm gonna go tell Sam what Dad knew. And we'll work it out from there, I hope."

Atlas had nothing on the pair of them, Bobby thought. His shoulders felt about to snap with the weight of all he carried. Still, Bobby felt that need to push it back—a little bit. "You—you gonna tell him all this right now? Why don’t you wait 'til morning, we can—I don’t know, talk about it over breakfast--"

Dean snorted. Gave Bobby a look that said don't be stupid. "You know a better time? How long should I wait? Until he's at school? Until he's about to get married to some poor civilian? Until he's settled somewhere with a family?"

Poor dumb shit, he didn't have a clue, Bobby thought. There wasn't anything Sam was going to do without Dean glued to his side. Dean did have a point about waiting to tell Sam. There'd never be a perfect time. Besides, Sam was tough, resilient—a soft voice at the back of his mind whispered and if Dean does it, then you won’t have to? Oh, Bobby. " Yeah. Okay. Guess you're right."

Dean nodded, closed his eyes. It almost looked like he was praying. He cast a quick look Bobby's way and then stomped off towards the house.

Bobby could hear the yelling—the screaming—from his perch in the yard, and not long after Sam bust out of the front door, alone. "Don't be here when I get back," he screamed. "I don't want you here! You're a freak and a liar—I hate you!"

He ran around to the side of the house, jumped into the car the two of them had been working on as a joint project, an '81 Trans Am—a car slated to be his when he was legal to drive. Which was not now, god damn it. Bobby shot to his feet and started running, yelling his fool head off and wondering where the hell was Dean. "Sam! Sam, get your ass outa that—"

He couldn't reach the boy before the car was screaming down the drive, gravel and dust flying. He ripped off his cap and threw it to the ground—the bill finally came loose in one long tear, bleeding blue and yellow thread. He stared at that ruined Napa cap like it was some kind of symbol of everything gone south in his life. His sides were heaving in frustration and flat-out fear for the boy. "Sam, Sam...fucking hell." He threw his head back to stare at the dark sky and said, " Now what?"

As if in answer to his question Dean appeared in the open doorway, his cheek looked like it was one throbbing pain—from the way he barely skimmed his fingertips over it, Bobby guessed it was just that. He shook his head, and went up to take a closer look.

"So—I told him," Dean shrugged, said, "and that happened."

"I should have made you wait. We shoulda done that together," Bobby snapped, pissed at himself.

Dean scraped his hands over his head, twisting his hair into long unruly spikes. "He'll be back" he muttered, as if speaking to himself. "He's not gonna leave me—us. He'll be back soon as he figures out he needs us right now."

Bobby pushed past him and went up to his room and let everything he'd been swallowing down come pouring out. He cried—not just a few tears barely wetting his eyes—he cried almost as hard as when he'd lost Karen.

Look what he'd done, how he ruined their lives. He was a god damn fool, and a terrible father, and he'd done those boys a terrible disservice—he should have sent them on to John's wife's family. He should have.

The next day, Bobby came down to the kitchen to make coffee and wait for Sam to come in-- and surprised Dean by the front door, his duffle bag in hand. He dropped it with a guilty look. "I'm…I was going to call you…I'm just gonna clear out for a couple of weeks. Until Sam calms down. Talked to Travis, he's heading out to Nebraska to check out some noise about a limos. Thought I'd tag along and maybe…head out to Mexico. Caleb's down there, he might want—"

"Boy, you're a stupid ass but I'm not getting in your way. At least have some breakfast before you go merrily on your way bein' a god damn idjit."

They'd just finished up coffee; Dean was rinsing his cup by the sink when they both heard the rumble of the Trans Am moving slow down the drive. "God damn it," Dean said and snatched up his bag, sprinted out the back door for the Impala. Bobby took his cup and sauntered over to the window, sipping as he leaned over the sink and watched. Yeah, if that fool had really wanted to break clean away, he wouldn'na stopped for breakfast. The coffee wasn't that good. Bobby took another sip. Well…it was a pretty good cup of coffee….

Sam came charging around the back, and stomped over to the Impala. Dean had just finished shoving his duffle in the back seat when Sam grabbed him right out of the Impala by his collar, dragged him past Bobby's astonished eyes into the house, he could hear doors slamming all through the place. He set down his cup and grabbed his car keys. It was oddly quiet, he thought, as he left the house. He turned right before he got in his car, just in time to see Sam in the upper story window, saw him reach up and slam the window shut. He stared up at that window for a while before he finally turned and got into his Chevelle. He was going into town, going to do a little grocery shopping. Might stop at the bar, have a couple two or a dozen shots and then stop in Wes's field on the way home and hit that cheech'n'chong a little. Was going to sit and figure out how much he could live with, knowing he still had four years of Sam at least living home. He'd either have to chase them off, or deal with it. And he preferred dealing with it. And dealing with it Dean's way, by pretending nothing was happening…yep, the situation definitely called for a little self-medication—and then, there were going to plans made for Sam's future. Not to mention them boys were getting some goddamn rules and heinous repercussions if anybody fu—scre—messed up.

"Ow, bitch—let go of me—" Dean shut up so he could concentrate on not falling up the stairs, and not letting Sam accidentally run his head into a wall.

Sam kicked open the bedroom door and yanked Dean inside before letting his collar go and Dean stumbled across the floor. His heel caught up in the rug and he fell ass-first on his bed. "Dude—" he tried to stand and Sam was right there, pushing him back down again. "Damn it, I'm fucking sick and tired of you throwing me around."

Sam blinked, grinned for a nanosecond before scowling again. "Shut the fuck up, asswipe", Sam hissed, "and just where did you think you were going?"

"You—you told me to leave," Dean sputtered, "besides, I was only gonna be gone a bit, until you got over—" Dean was shocked silent when Sam threw himself on top of him, his eyes blazing—he made a noise that a werewolf would be envious of and yanked his collar up again.

"With who?" Sam yelled. "No wait, don't tell me let me guess—Caleb, right?"

"Sam, wait—Sam—" Sam started to yell again and Dean jammed his hands over his ears and screamed like a kid having a tantrum. That stopped Sam cold—his eyes went round as hubcaps.

"Thank god. It's like you never Shut. Up." Sam stared at Dean, his jaw still dropped and in the silence, Dean said, "I love you. I mean like…I love you."

Sam flipped his hand dismissing what he said--like loving Sam was a given and so what—but Dean said it again, "I love you."

Sam's expression shifted from shock to confusion, and then slowly shifted again, opening, growing until it seemed he was lit up from inside and his smile…his smile was wide enough to maybe bridge that gap that had opened between them. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Dean rolled flat to his back and held his arms open. "So come here already."

Sam staggered forward, dropped onto the bed and pushed his face into Dean's neck.

"We have to talk, though," Dean said, "about this thing Dad wrote about. How we're going to live with it…and this thing with us. Which Bobby suspects…."

"Fuck suspect," Sam mumbled into his neck. "Dean, Bobby knows. But we'll talk about all that stuff later, just—let me have this first. Then we can figure out all the stuff you'll certainly want to angst and cry over like a little girl."

"Bitch!"

"Oh yeah? Well, you're a jerk," Sam said and put his mouth over Dean's, just a soft pressure of lip to lip, without any real thought or design—as if he was doing it just because he finally could. Slowly, chaste tentative kissing became a little more. Warmer. Slicker.

Sam worked his hands under Dean's shirt, and wiggled it off him, grinning as he did, and from there it was easy take Sam's off, and easy then to pop the button on his jeans, work them off his narrow hips, so slim, so smooth. Hair that would be thicker, coarser one day, fuzzed his legs, under his arms, and dusted his ass and Dean found he loved stroking it…he pressed his face against Sam's crotch and rubbed his lips in the hair, smelling, nipping—Sam bucked and squeaked and giggled and sighed and Dean loved it all—felt like a god at this. Touching the flat planes of Sam's chest, the small, dark nipples that pebbled instantly under Dean's thumbs, made Dean hard—blinding, achingly hard. He sat back on his heels and ignored Sam's disappointed moans. He marveled at what had been happening under that boy's clothes. "Damn Sam—I knew you got bigger and all but…damn." Sam's body. It looked a lot different spread out over his bed, felt different than it did when Sam was trying to grind his face into the kitchen tiles, or doing his best to make him tap out when they sparred. Dean shoved downwards, felt his dick drag up the length of Sam's muscled calf, drank in Sam's hiss of pleasure when he reached between his thighs and stroked over his balls, lower, until he hit against his hole and Sam jerked like Dean touched him with a live wire. "Like that, hunh?" Dean smirked.

"Fuck you. Yeah, I do, because it's you."

Dean blushed. Sure he got that—didn't he feel it too? Sam was everything, always had been, and now…he was this too. "Sammy—"

Sam grabbed a handful of Dean's hair pulled him down and whispered in his ear, "Dean, it's been past time for this. Don't be afraid." He wriggled and Dean gasped, how could his kid brother make him feel like this? What if…what if Sam found he didn't like this—or what if he wasn't as good, what if he didn't measure up to whomever Sam had been with before. Jealous, fuck, he was so jealous….

Sam was looking at him, his eyes so full of...affection, love. "I haven't, you know."

"What?"

"You're wondering if I've slept with other people. I haven't. Haven't done anything but…" he wrapped his hand around Dean's dick, squeezed. "My hand. That's all. Waiting for you. Idiot," he said when Dean grinned down at him. He threw his arms around Dean and kissed him, shutting down that train of thought nicely. Dean hummed his appreciation, thrilled that this was his and no one else's.

They pulled back and Sam tilted his hips up. "Come on; let's do this. I want you to."

Dean gulped, closed his eyes and squeezed the base of his dick. "Don’t or it will be the shortest first time anyone's ever had—I'm about a breath from coming all over you."

Sam groaned a little and his dick swept precome across his belly. "Dean –don't say stuff like that, please." Dean leered at Sam and drew his fingers through the slick on his belly, and popped the tips into his mouth.

"Okay…try and…relax…" He slipped one finger inside of him, rocking it back and forth, deeper into the tight, warm squeeze of Sam's body and when Sam could take it he added another, worked Sam open slowly as he could, tried to ignore the breathless little noises pouring out of him. Dean held him open with one hand, guided his dick in with the other and pushed, gently as he could. Sam groaned as if he was in pain, his face creased, reddened, he bit his lip—hard.

Dean gasped, just rocking right where he was, afraid to move and hurt Sam more. "Should I stop?"

Sam's eyes popped open. "What? No—no, don't you dare—"

Dean chuckled, light-headed, giddy, happy—he looked down at where they were joined, and looked up at Sam, face and voice full of awe. "Sam—look at us, oh god, look—"

"I'll come if I look," but Sam looked anyway, he looked at Dean, into his eyes, shuddered. "Dean," he moaned, and came. Dean's already shredded ability to hold off vanished like fog—the crazy, bubbling, popping feeling that had been growing bigger and bigger inside him went off like a flare. The way Sam was looking at him, the way he said his name…that was all it took. Orgasm slammed into him like a full body explosion and all he felt was Sam, around him, and in him, and he'd never felt anything as amazing, as wonderful, as Sam.

When Dean could drag his eyes open again, Sam was smiling up at him. He was beautiful like this, skin damp and shimmering, his eyes at half-mast and that wicked little smile curling the corners of his mouth. He pulled Dean down against his slick, sticky chest, smearing come between them. He opened his mouth over Dean's and moaned something into it, Dean shuddered like he'd come again and experienced a wild irrational flash of jealously…imagining Sam at some distant time, this hot and sweating and murmuring little things into someone else's mouth. It made him want to be sick…guilt threw him out of the mood. Sam noticed and grabbed his arms to keep him in place. "Don't Dean, don't you dare."

"No, Sammy, not about this--oh god, I'm so sorry, so fucking sorry. I didn't get it. I—sorry, Caleb, and—"

"Shhhh. It's okay. Well, it's not okay, you were an asshole and it hurt, a lot. But it's over, right?"

"God yes, you know that. I…made a terrible mistake. You’re not the only one I hurt, I know that—but I feel like shit that I only really care about hurting you."

Sam pulled him back down. Kissed him. "I forgive you, and it's over, we're done with it. Everything is going to be different now, you'll see."

Dean nodded, but knew like Sam just didn’t want to. It would never be all right, it would never be what Sam wanted. But this, tonight, he could give him and then—move on. Bobby would keep Sam safe and he'd do his part to protect Sam too….he draw the monsters off of Sam, give him the chance to have the kind of life he should, happy, safe, normal.

"Hey Dean…whatever self-sacrificing bullshit you're planning, forget it. You won't get a mile down the road before I'm on you." Sam rolled over so that he was half on the bed, and half on Dean. "There's only one way we leave here—together. I've always dreamed that when I go to college, you'd want to come with. But…whether we do it my way, or some other way, I really don’t care. As long as it’s us, together you know?

"It's going to be impossible here. You and me, I mean. Hell—it's going to be impossible anywhere."

"We'll work it out, or we don't, I don’t even care. I need you. And if what Dad wrote in the journal is true, I'll need you watching me."

"Sam, that shit was crazy and what Dad said was stupid. I'm not ki—doing that. I'm not."

"I don’t want you to, Dean. I'm not that self-sacrificing. I'm saying if you see something in me that's not—me, then you're the only one I can count on to do what's right."

Do what's right. Fuck.Dean lay back, fuming inside. Sam curled around him like a puppy, and he let go some of the ice that settled over him. Sam inside him, around him, his heat, his heartbeat, the way they fit like lock and key…okay, maybe he couldn't give that up. Maybe he didn't know for sure where to go from here. They'd figure it out. Between him, and Bobby, and Sam, they'd find a way. He was pretty sure they'd find a way to make it work.

Fin
9-25-2011

Tags:

spn:someday

Flat. Top-Level Comments Only

Posted by

katsheswims.livejournal.com

This was awesome! I loved it!!

I really like how you gave Sam and Dean better childhoods (but they were still together).

Sam was pretty manipulative when he wanted to be. Though Dean tried it once to force him off with Caleb, but that didn't result in anything positive. But I'm happy they're together in the end!

Keep up the good work!

Posted by

Somedy Never Comes 6

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