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justinedelarge“Where do you want to go, Sammy?”
Sam thought about that for less than two seconds. “South.”
“What’s south of here?”
“Someplace warmer.”
So Dean pulled out onto the highway and drove until he saw a sign that said something about Mount Rushmore/Crazy Horse that way, and took that exit, and when the sun began to set, they crossed into Cheyenne, Wyoming.
Dean pulled in at the Wyoming Motel, parking the stolen car in a secluded spot in the back of the parking lot, and got them a room. They brought in their gear. Sam locked the door, secured the secondary lock, and put down a salt line across the threshold of the door and windows.
Dean set the duffels on the bed-for-gear. “There’s a diner up the street. You hungry?”
Sam looked exhausted. “Later.” He turned the wall heater up as high as it would go.
Dean didn’t seem to mind. He too was exhausted, and stumbled to the bed, falling onto it face first. “Long day,” he mumbled into the comforter.
Sam climbed onto the bed and snuggled right up against him, tucking his long body against Dean. Dean sniffled, rolled onto his side and pulled Sam’s left arm, pale from the cast, against his chest. “Nap. Napping is good.”
“You ok?”
“Just tired.” Dean wriggled to slot against Sam even more closely, making a quiet happy sound as Sam’s body heat warmed him. Sam pulled the far side of the comforter over them, and they lay curled up together, breathing in perfect unison. Dean relaxed at the feel of Sam’s warm breath on the back of his neck, smiling at the little murmurs Sam always made right before falling asleep.
Sam woke up with a start and sat bolt upright.
Dean was immediately awake, eyes scanning the room. “What is it?”
Sam shook his head. “Bad dream.”
Dean rubbed his nose. “C’mere.” He put his hand on Sam’s arm. The muscles were rock-hard with tension. “Hey. Sammy.”
And suddenly Sam was on top of him, hands all over him, kissing him hard and messy and desperate. He shoved Dean’s shirt up, got his hands underneath, moaning at the feel of Dean’s soft skin. He straddled Dean, tugging his flannel off, peeling his t-shirt off over his head, and tugged at Dean’s clothing.
Dean stripped off his shirts as fast as he could, spurred on by the urgency bleeding off Sam.
“Off.” Sam undid Dean’s belt, had his jeans open like he was being timed for a test, yanked them off Dean but got tangled in the boots Dean still had on. “Fuck it.” He pushed Dean’s thighs apart anyway, his feet bound together by the jeans and sank his mouth done on Dean’s cock.
Dean fell back with a strangled cry. Sam sucked Dean’s cock like he was starving for it, making the most delicious moans, gripping Dean’s hips hard. Dean stroked Sam’s long hair, pushing it out of his eyes so Dean could see his face, see those lips sealed around his cock, those eyes gone chestnut brown in the dim light of early evening gazing up at him.
Sam managed to kick off his own boots and peel his jeans off without taking Dean out of his mouth. He straddled him, panting, and took Dean’s mouth in his again, plunging his tongue into Dean’s mouth, giving him no other choice but to let Sam in, let Sam suck on his tongue, moan into his mouth as he rubbed his cock against Dean’s.
When Sam wrapped his huge hand around the both of them and jacked both their cocks at the same time, Dean cried out. Sam swallowed the cry, licked another out of his mouth, working them both hard. Dean threw his head back, letting Sammy do what he wanted, take what he needed.
Sam licked and bit at Dean’s throat. “Jesus fuck, Sammy.” Dean grabbed onto Sam’s bare ass, rocking him, grinding on him. “You’re gonna make me come.”
And Sam growled, actually growled, teeth nipping at Dean’s flesh.
Dean arched up into Sam, baring his throat for Sam, crying out as Sam’s strong hand drew his orgasm out of him, insisted on it, demanded without words that Dean lose it for him, come hard and long and gasping for breath.
And Dean obeyed the silent command like a good soldier.
Sam was right behind him, spurred on by the helpless sounds he made, by the sight of Dean’s come spattering on his chest and belly, hot and wet. “Ah, ah, fuck, Dean…” And Sam was shuddering, coming hard for Dean, biting his lip and throwing his head back, then collapsing and kissing him again. He kissed his jaw, his throat, moved down, lapped up the beads of come on his chest. When he moved lower and started licking up the pool of come on Dean’s stomach, they both moaned.
“I love you so much.” Sam rested his cheek on Dean’s stomach. “So much.”
Dean stroked Sam’s hair. “Me too.” Dean’s stomach growled.
Sam laughed.
“Can’t help it. I’m starving,” Dean protested.
“Diner up the street, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s go.”
They walked down the street to the little diner, built out of an old railroad boxcar. “Lemme guess…bacon cheeseburger?” Sam scuffed his boot against Dean’s under the table of the booth.
“Green chili.”
Sam raised an eyebrow.
“Thought I’d change things up.”
Sam perused the menu.
“What about you… salad with chicken breast?”
Sam rolled his eyes.
The waitress arrived to take their order. “I’d like the green chili—”
“Cup or bowl?”
“Bowl. And a side of biscuits. And a Pepsi.”
“And for you?”
Sam put down the menu. “Chicken fried steak and chocolate milk.”
Dean dropped his menu and stared at Sam.
“I can change it up too.”
Dean smiled affectionately at his brother. “Good for you. Keep ‘em guessing.”
Sam stared out the window, seemingly at nothing.
Dean wiped his sleeve across his face. “You ok?”
Sam’s gaze snapped back to Dean. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” His smile was a little too perfect.
The waitress came back with their beverages. Sam unsheathed the straw and stuck it inside the tall glass. He took little sips, enjoying it but making it last. Dean, on the other hand, had finished most of his Pepsi before his meal arrived.
The waitress set a giant steaming bowl of green chili in front of Dean and a side plate stacked with two fat biscuits. “Refill?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She slid a huge oval plate in front of Sam, covered with a massive slab of breaded steak, a generous mound of mashed potatoes, and an unreasonably large quantity of gravy.
“Don’t hurt yourself, Sammy.”
“No joke.” Sam eyed Dean’s food. “That’s not what I thought it would be.”
“What?”
“Thought it would be regular chili, but…green.” What was in the bowl were chunks of pork braised with Hatch green chiles.
Dean took a bite. “Mmphy mmph, mph!”
“In English?”
Dean chewed and swallowed. “I said, holy shit, Sam. This is awesome. You have to try this.” Dean held out a spoonful, offering it to Sam like he was feeding a baby.
Sam let him. His eyes went wide.
“Awesome, right?”
Sam nodded.
Sam then took a bite of his chicken fried steak, sopping it in the black pepper gravy. He curled his arm protectively around his plate.
“Really?”
“Oh my god.”
“Can’t be better than mine.”
Sam cut a piece, speared it on his fork, swirled it the lake of gravy and held it out to Dean.
Dean ate it. The sound he made sounded positively pornographic.
Sam watched the pleasure play across Dean’s face. “Ok, we split them both.”
Sam moved from his seat across from Dean and slid into the booth seat next to Dean, dragging his plate over in front of them both. They ate off each other’s plates and their own, leaning against each other, dipping chunks of biscuit into Sam’s pepper gravy and forkfuls of chicken-fried steak into Dean’s green chili. But it was the combination of green chili on mashed potatoes that made them both groan.
“Can you make this? You’re smart. You know how to cook. Can you learn how to make this?” Dean licked green chili drippings from his thumb.
“What, am I your wife?”
“Only if you marry me.”
Sam’s face colored. “Already said I would.” He took a sip of chocolate milk. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll be your wife.”
Dean put his hand on Sam’s thigh under the table. “Oh, come on, Sammy. You’d make such a pretty wife.”
Sam gave Dean the bitch face. “Shut up.”
Dean leaned closer. “You’d love it. Wearing a pretty little dress for me.”
“Stop it.” Sam glared, but he shifted in his seat, spreading his thighs apart, and a shiver ran through Dean as he realized Sam was making room for his hardening cock.
Dean brought his mouth to Sam’s ear, and whispered, “I’d come home from work, hike up your skirt, pull your pretty pink panties to the side, get my tongue right up inside your hole, lick you open nice and slow—“
“How’s everything tasting?” The waitress stood before them.
Sam’s face was bright red. Dean swiped his tongue over his lips. “Tastes great.”
“Dessert?”
In unison, they both said, “Peanut butter pie.”
Sam laughed. “Saw that on the menu and knew there was no way we were getting out of here without you trying that.”
Somehow, despite being stuffed to the gills, they had enough room in their stomachs to split a wedge of peanut butter pie.
“Ok, you learn how to make that, and I’ll be the wife.” Dean groaned, rubbing his distended belly.
“Does that mean you’ll wear pretty pink panties for me?”
Dean didn’t flinch. “Actually, yeah.”
Sam coughed and turned bright red, but not from embarrassment.
They walked slowly back to the motel room, as though afraid moving too fast would send everything they’d eaten right back up again.
“I am so full.” Dean staggered inside.
“Me too.”
Dean rummaged in the bottom of his duffel bag. “But not too full for a little of this.” He pulled out the nice bottle of Bourbon he’d snagged from Bobby’s on their way out.
“You took that?”
Dean nodded.
Sam took a breath. “Ok, but we’re buying him a new bottle when…”
“When we go back?”
Sam remained silent.
“Paid for out of our stolen money?”
Sam sat down on the bed heavily. “It’s so easy, isn’t it. To cross that line. Is that what happened with Dad?”
Dean unwrapped the plastic tumblers on the table and poured two inches of bourbon into each one. “Totally different. Dad tortured someone for information and killed him when he couldn’t get it. We robbed a pedophile drug dealer that wanted to take pictures of us fucking each other. And who knows what else.”
Sam looked up at Dean as he handed him the whiskey. “It’s not that different. Dad thought the ends justified the means. So did we.”
Dean sat down next to Sam. “I know. Slippery slope. Bad guys always justify what they do. But we’re not bad guys, Sam. We’re never going to be. Taking that guy’s wallet? I’m sorry, but I just don’t see it as being so terrible. Ripping off someone like that is a lot better than running credit card fraud or all the other stuff Dad has us do to get by. And that bag? Christ. All that stuff in there and he just drops it on the ground and turns his back? It’s almost as though he wanted us to take it.”
Sam exhaled, and took a drink.
“I know it bothers you. You’re, like, the best person I know.” Sam looked up at him in surprise. “Seriously. There’s something about you that’s just…” Dean thought carefully. “Pure. And that’s why I made sure I was the one that did it. Stole his stuff. Hotwired the car.” He put his hand on Sam’s knee. “If there is such a thing as a moral stain, it’s on me, not you.”
Sam dropped his head onto Dean’s shoulder. Dean held him and took a swig of whiskey.
Sam nestled closer. “Know what I want right now?”
“What?”
“I want to take a shower. With you. So I don’t freak out. Then I want to put on my sweats and crawl into bed and…”
Dean stroked Sam’s arm reassuringly. “Anything you want.” Sam stared at the floor. “You can tell me. Anything at all.”
Sam took another swallow of his drink. “I want to go to bed and snuggle with you.” He flinched like he expected Dean to pull away or laugh or make fun of him. Instead, Dean tipped Sam’s face up and kissed him, soft and slow. “I’d love that.”
They brushed their teeth first. Their knives, they set on top of the counter in the bathroom. Always within reach. Then Dean brought Sam into the shower and stood behind him, arms wrapped around him, under the spray. He soaped Sam up, washed him from head to toe, fingers stroking him not sexually, but soothingly, reassuring him with every touch that Sam was safe, that Dean was keeping him safe. He was careful to keep Sam’s face out of the spray of water. “See, Sammy, plenty of air. You’re breathing just fine. Right?” Sam kept his eyes clenched tight when Dean rinsed his hair clean, but he did much better than all the times they’d showered together since the kidnapping. Dean kept his left hand on Sam as he soaped himself up. Sam helped. He washed and rinsed his hair quickly and got them out of the shower.
Sam breathed an obvious sigh of relief, and reached for a towel to dry himself.
“Let me.”
Sam frowned. “I’m better now. I can dry myself.”
Dean was silent for a moment. Then he spoke. “I liked it.”
Sam cocked his head.
“Taking care of you. Drying you off. Carrying you to bed.” The muscles in Dean’s jaw worked. “I liked it.”
Sam handed the towel to Dean, a sweet smile on his lips. “Me too.”
He let Dean dry him off everywhere, laughing when Dean put the towel over his head and tousled his hair dry. He insisted on drying Dean off himself. They walked naked into the main room, their sweats, favorite well-worn t-shirts and warm socks already laid out on the bed.
Dean stepped between Sam and the bed. “Just tonight. Just one more time.”
“Ok.” Sam’s voice was a mere breath.
Dean pushed Sam gently down so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Kneeling, he undid a pair of socks and slipped one onto Sam’s right foot, pulling it slowly up his calf until it was extended to its full length, smoothing his hands back down, running along his calf, the top of his foot and down to the tips of his toes. Then he did the same with the other sock, eyes locked on Sam’s.
He slipped Sam’s feet through the leg holes in his sweats, one at a time, drawing the sweats up to his knees, guiding him to his feet and slowly pulling the sweats up to Sam’s waist, stroking his flanks when they were on all the way. His green eyes remained fixed on Sam’s nearly the entire time.
Finally, he sat Sam back down and gestured for Sam to hold his arms up over his head. He slipped his hands through the arm holes of the t-shirt and pulled it down, stroking Sam’s chest and back, settling the material into place. Eyes never leaving Sam’s.
Without ceremony, he quickly pulled on his own sweats and t-shirt, yanking the socks over his feet. He set his knife on his end table, Sam’s on his, and then drew back the bedclothes.
Sam crawled in and Dean nestled in next to him, pulling the blankets over them both. He turned off the lamp, and the room went dark.
Sam curled up against Dean, throwing his leg over him, snaking one hand under Dean’s t-shirt so he could rest his palm on the warmth of Dean’s belly.
Dean chuckled. “Easy. I’m full of pie.”
Sam rubbed Dean’s distended belly gently. “I like it.”
That brought another chuckle out of Dean. “Good. Because when I’m old, I’m probably gonna have a big old gut.”
“’N I’ll still love you.” Sam’s voice was sleepy.
“I must have done something good in a past life.”
“Mm?” Sam snuggled closer.
Dean let his fingers play over Sam’s upper back in that way that made Sam sigh and squirm happily. “Because someone gave me you.”
They stayed awake as long as they could, reveling in the warmth and closeness of each other. But eventually they drifted into a peaceful sleep.
Dean awoke to howls.
He was on his feet, knife in hand, without remembering standing up or grabbing it. He turned the light on and looked around the room for the demon or monster or tortured soul making those terrible sounds.
The howls were anguished, the quintessential sound of abject suffering.
They were coming from Sam.
He was hunched in the corner of the room, pure pain spilling out of his mouth. He took a breath, and Dean gasped with relief at the sudden absence of that horrific sound.
Sam’s mouth worked, no sound coming out.
Dean ran to him, fell to his knees. “Sammy! Wake up.”
Sam’s mouth formed words. Whispered them into the dark. “Daddy. Please. No more.” Dean’s body went cold. “Daddy. Please don’t hurt me anymore.” Suddenly Sam threw his head back, cords of his neck standing out, and that howl was ripped from him again, like his skin was being flayed from his body.
Dean pulled Sam into his arms. “Wake up, come on, Sammy. Wake up for me.” He stroked Sam’s face, impossibly gently, refusing to shake him or touch him or even yell at him. Only gentleness. Only love. “I’m gonna take care of you, baby boy.” His voice was choked. “Not gonna let anyone hurt you.” Sam shuddered, head thrashing. Dean held him, hands moving deft and gentle, his voice warm and comforting. “Wake up, Sammy. You’re right here with me. I’ve got you.” Sam gasped and his eyes flashed open. “I’ve got you. You’re ok.”
Sam gripped Dean’s arms, wrapped around him, like a life preserver thrown to a drowning man.
Dean rocked Sam, soothing him.
Sam choked out the word, “Nightmare.”
Dean wiped the tears from Sam’s face. “I figured.”
“Dad. Torturing me.”
Dean kept rocking Sam. “He’d never hurt you, Sammy.” Sam shook and clung to Dean. “Remember how he used to wrap you in a blanket when you were sick and hold you in his lap until you fell asleep?”
Sam sniffled and nodded.
Dean thought. “And he’d make you mashed potatoes when your throat was sore because you said anything else hurt to eat?”
Sam was still trembling. “Yeah.”
“And he’d bring you warm milk with vanilla and read to you.”
Sam looked up. “Dean. That was you.”
Dean pushed Sam’s damp hair away from his forehead. “He did it first. You don’t remember?”
Sam shook his head no.
“You remember that birthday where he made you a cake out of Hostess cupcakes he stuck together and iced over with Cool Whip?”
Sam sniffed again, but this time with a laugh. “Yeah. My 7-Eleven birthday.”
“Dude. You got that 12-pack of Pringles. I was so jealous.”
“I gave you half of them.”
“That’s because you love me.”
Sam let his head fall against Dean’s chest. “Dean. It was so real. It was like… like it was really happening.”
Dean pulled Sam to his feet. “Sounded like it.”
Sam wiped his face. “I’m sorry. Must have scared the shit out of you.”
Dean brought Sam back to bed and brought him a glass of cold water.
They sat on the edge of the bed in silence for a moment. “I know he wouldn’t ever hurt me.” Sam took another sip. “But I know what he’s capable of.” He shot a look at Dean. “You think you know. But you don’t.” A tremor ran through Sam. “You really don’t.”
“Shh…” Dean made room for Sam to get back in bed with him. “We can talk about it tomorrow. Get some rest. We both really need it.” Dean gave Sam a kiss clumsy with sleepiness.
Sam scrutinized Dean’s face. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his face was flushed. “You’re exhausted.”
Dean simply nodded.
Sam turned off the light and drew Dean into his arms. Dean went easily, not insisting that Sam be the little spoon. Within a minute, he was asleep.
Sam held Dean as close as he possibly could and stared, wide awake, into the dark.
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no subject
Date: 2013-02-05 09:04 am (UTC)That nightmare - Poor Sammy! God, how awful, but it makes sense that the nightmares would become John doing those things to Sam, since Sam now knows exactly what John did. I am so torn between Dean needing to be protected from those details and Sam needing to not be alone in this.
no subject
Date: 2013-02-05 02:19 pm (UTC)The demon knows he won't get Sam without Dean. So he'll take both, because they will do anything for each other, and he's gotta be counting on that.
And John...Sam's visions are true, I'm afraid and it hurts to think about. Once John knows the demon's plans for Sam, and the fact that Sam is special and why...John won't see him as human anymore. I have to wonder how Bobby and Reggie will take that - certainly they won't let John do this with their help.
You blend the hot sweet and sexy in with the dark and angsty so very well!
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Date: 2013-02-05 04:02 pm (UTC)They are one of the main reasons that I keep coming back.
It's amazing how much you can say with a few words.
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Date: 2013-02-05 04:04 pm (UTC)Still, beautiful and touching as always.
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Date: 2013-02-05 07:44 pm (UTC)Truly interactive storytelling. So thank you.
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Date: 2013-02-05 08:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-05 06:10 pm (UTC)And you have me biting my nails anxiously with all the stuff that's going to come, so many things you hinted at that have me deeply worried. The anticipation is killing me, though of course it's half the fun as well. ;)
As always, I am so in love with the way you describe their interactions and the dynamics of their relationship, with their deep bond always shining through so gloriously.
And on a slightly unrelated note: I would actually love to read about their really getting married later on, with the beautiful ritual they already had, that would just be the icing on my sappy schmoop cake...! :D
This was wonderful, thank you. ♥
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Date: 2013-02-05 07:48 pm (UTC)And please, I'd love to know what things I've hinted at have you deeply worried. It really helps when readers tell me. I have a document where I save things readers say that I need to make sure to follow up on. And sometimes you guys discover great things I wouldn't have developed.
no subject
Date: 2013-02-05 08:12 pm (UTC)And as for what has me worried... I think it's the things that other commenters have mentioned as well. What Azazel's plan are, now that he managed to supply them with money and 'freedom', the dark path that might lie ahead for both Sammy and Dean, with the latter willing to do anything for his Sammy no matter how wrong it might seem, and Sammy's increasing visions/nightmares and possible going dark-side. They also still don't know about the demon's plans. And I'm worried about how things are going to play out with John and the others looking for them. So, all sorts of things that you've so skillfully weaved into this story. :) I'm really looking forward to more.
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Date: 2013-02-06 12:08 am (UTC)I approve of this message.
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Date: 2013-02-06 01:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-02-10 02:18 pm (UTC)And the wedding for your BB! Already love that!
<3
no subject
Date: 2013-12-07 09:37 am (UTC)The bit with the waitress interrupting had me howling with laughter then by the end I'm all ready to punch John Winchester's lights out!
Just wonderful x
no subject
Date: 2013-12-07 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-02-10 09:18 am (UTC)I think that small event with the pedo prick might have upset Sam more than he was letting on, Poor kid. Poor kids.
I'm just wondering is another devil going to roll into their life like the devil did in Needful Things.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-10 06:58 pm (UTC)