hold my hand and I'll take you there

Fic: Rain

Thu, 07 May 2009 02:22:57 GMT

Rain
Author: gestaltrose aka chaosrosa
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1,000 or so
Beta sulfuricfusion and amara_m Thank you both. I did an amalgamation of your suggestions. All errors are mine
Warnings: PWP (mostly)
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to Kripke not me.
Summary: Flat tire, rain, and sex

I asked for prompts for drabble-ish things here and apparently this is drabble-ish to my muse. For the second one cha asked : Sam/Dean caught in the rain with a flat tire

It was pouring.

Fic: Sorrow Enough To Drown The World

Mon, 16 Mar 2009 16:40:57 GMT

Sorrow Enough To Drown The World
Author: gestaltrose aka chaosrosa
Title: Sorrow Enough To Drown The World
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 5500 give or take a few
Beta: the lovely stacyleanne I messed with it some after I got it back. Any and all errors are mine.
Warnings: Spoilers for season 4, Dark!Sam, Evil!Sam, Dark themes and images, attempted suicide, character death (not Sam or Dean)
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to Kripke.
Summary: Sam is broken by all he has done. Dean shows up to try and save him. Will Sam let him?
Notes: I was inspired by the wonderful vid maker absrip and her fan vid Snow on the Sahara that she posted in November... sorry I am slow.
Sam watched the world burn

Fic: Long and Winding Road

Mon, 15 Dec 2008 02:19:35 GMT

Long and Winding Road
Author: gestaltrose aka chaosrosa
Title: Long and Winding Road (2/2)
Pairing: Sam/Jess/Dean, Sam/Jess, Dean/Jess, mentions of Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17, if you are not old enough don't click
Word count: 12,400 in two parts
Warnings: AU, threesome, slash, incest, het (OMG I wrote het again)
Beta(s): The lovely kuhekabir and most wonderful pkabyssinian and of course I messed with it more so any and all errors are mine.
Disclaimer: Errors mine. Boys, Jess, John. . .all not mine. I wish but no.
Summary: Jess survived the fire, what happened then. AU of AU’s .
Notes: This was written as a gift fic for caithream. On November 13 my Jess girl had a super bad day. I, as usual, offered porn. She asked for het and have some with Dean to spare. I asked if Dean/Jess would be okay and she said Mmmfalksjds YEAH. and then my muse spoke up and I asked if Sam/Jess/Dean would be okay. She said NGH YES. Go for it! So love, finally, here it is.
Part 1
Part 2

Complete

Fic: Breaking Through

Mon, 08 Dec 2008 05:22:44 GMT

Breaking Through
Author: gestaltrose aka chaosrosa
Title: Breaking Through 1 and 2 of 2
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 11,800 total
Beta my beautiful embroiderama who also helped me out with the title. . .all remaining errors are mine.
Warnings: AU, Hurt!Jensen, Hurt!Jared, slash, established relationship, first time, angst,
Disclaimer: Jared, Jensen and everyone else are their own people. This is fiction. Completely made up, false, a lie, a story.
Summary: Jensen has an accident, loses his memory, will he remember what he’s lost before it’s gone forever?
Notes: I actually had this ideal a while ago. I plotted most of it out with monica_catch22 as usual she encouraged me in my deviant ways. Written during November for the mini_nanowrimo uh I kinda went over my 3000 words pledged.
Part 1
Part 2

Fic: Monsters and Brothers

Tue, 04 Nov 2008 23:04:29 GMT

Monsters and Brothers
Author: gestaltrose aka chaosrosa
Title: Monsters and Brothers
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2000 give or take a few
Beta my beautiful kuhekabir and the lovely monica_catch22 who read it over and encouraged me in my deviant ways.
Warnings: underage (Sam is 17), Hurt!Sam, incest, um angst I guess
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Summary: Sam is hurt, Dean takes care of him in a really good way.
Note: For deansam67 and rivers_bend who both had a terrible horrible no good very bad day, yesterday. I fail at light and fluffy and I fail at straight porn. The boys had to have plot and with plot came angst...sorry. Hope this makes you feel a little better.

Monsters and Brothers

Fic: All Hallows Eve

Sat, 01 Nov 2008 06:38:37 GMT

All Hallows Eve
Author: gestaltrose aka chaosrosa
Title: All Hallows Eve
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: None, Gen Fic (OMG)
Rating: PG for some violence.
Word count: Around 1000
Warnings: Unbetaed All mistakes are mine (obviously), Pre Series, Wee!Chesters
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing them for some fun and then I'll return them.
Summary: It's Halloween and the first time that eleven year old Sam Winchester gets to go trick-or-treating but unfortunately for Sam it's just another job for his father. There is a ghost, salt and burn, and lots of fun to be had by all. (Just read it)
I wrote this for awdt prompt: Trick or Treat

All Hallows Eve

Fic: Brand New Life (2/2)

Wed, 29 Oct 2008 22:37:09 GMT

Brand New Start
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: Brand New Start
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 21,000/10,300 this part give or take a few
Beta the ever lovely embroiderama and the lovely monica_catch22 who encouraged me in my deviant ways.
Warnings: underage (Jared is 17), Hurt!Jared, graphic descriptions of abuse(in the past), missuse of the Padalecki and the Ackles familes.
Disclaimer: Jared and Jensen belong to themselves. This is a work of Fiction and as such it in no way depicts real people although their names are used. This does not represent the sexual orientation or the prejudices anyone may have. No offense intended.
Summary: Jared Padalecki is one messed up kid, after his parent die he his tossed from Foster home to Foster home slowly losing everyone he loves. He's given one last chance with the Ackles. Can he come to peace with his past? Will he admit that he's attracted to Jensen? AU story of a hurt boy who's trying to find some peace and maybe, if he's lucky, love.

Part One

Part Two

Fic: Brand New Start (1/2)

Tue, 28 Oct 2008 22:06:16 GMT

Brand New Start
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: Brand New Start
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 21,000/11,300 this part give or take a few
Beta the ever lovely embroiderama and the lovely monica_catch22 who encouraged me in my deviant ways.
Warnings: underage (Jared is 17), Hurt!Jared, graphic descriptions of abuse(in the past), missuse of the Padalecki and the Ackles familes.
Disclaimer: Jared and Jensen belong to themselves. This is a work of Fiction and as such it in no way depicts real people although their names are used. This does not represent the sexual orientation or the prejudices anyone may have. No offense intended.
Summary: Jared Padalecki is one messed up kid, after his parent die he his tossed from Foster home to Foster home slowly losing everyone he loves. He's given one last chance with the Ackles. Can he come to peace with his past? Will he admit that he's attracted to Jensen? AU story of a hurt boy who's trying to find some peace and maybe, if he's lucky, love.

Brand New Start

Fic: I Just Can't Help Falling

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 07:13:50 GMT

I Just Can't Help Falling
Author: gestaltrose aka chaosrosa
Title: I Just Can’t Help Falling
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17, if you are not old enough don't click
Word count: 4400 or so
Beta: The wonderful realscape (thank you *kisses*)and I messed with it after I got it back. Any and all mistakes are mine.
Warnings: slash, shmoop, fluff, sex sex sex, a little D/s
Disclaimer: All of this is made up. Fiction. None of it reflect anything that may or may not have happened between these two hot men. *nods*
Summary: There is a wedding and Jensen finds out something about Jared. (I suck at summaries – it’s good and pretty short. . .go read)
Notes: This was written for j2_spn_100days also as a gift fic for schnute23. I offered to write her a story. She said Pairing Jensen/Jared, a first time (at a wedding, some jealous Jared before the *cough* NC17)? *heee*. This was written pre-brake up so I am not Sandy bashing or anything. Title taken from the Elvis Presley song.

I Just Can't Help Falling

Big Bang Fic : Never Let You Go

Tue, 08 Jul 2008 09:27:31 GMT

Fic Title: Never Let You Go
Author: gestaltrose aka chaosrosa
Artist: __hibiscus
Genre: Wincest
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Fic Rating: NC-17
Artwork Rating: G
Word count: 23,600 give or take a few
Warnings: Post Season Two but ignores Three pretty much. Sex (Do I need to warn for this?) Misuse of the Fae and world mythology.
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to Kripke. Sean and his Tattoo Parlor are real but I don’t know him.
Summary: There are tattoos, and people only Sam can see, trouble, and sex. The Fae and the World Tree… is nothing safe? Can Sam and Dean save the world and themselves at the same time? Maybe.
Notes: Written for the spn_j2_bigbang, Thanks to my sweety vivaesprit for betaing the first part and my beautiful ~biza went over all of it any and all errors are mine.
Thank you __hibiscus for the fantastic art. Go and tell her wonderful things.

Link To Art: Master Post
Link To Story: Index, Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Fic: Following the Leader

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 18:31:27 GMT

Following the Leader a gift for chani_atreides
Author: gestaltrose aka chaosrosa
Title: Following the Leader
Pairing: Jared/Jensen
Rating: NC-17, if you are not old enough don't click
Word count: 8,800
Warnings: slash, drunk!Jensen, shmoop, fluff
Beta: my lovely ~biza
Disclaimer: All of this is made up. Fiction. None of it reflect anything that may or may not have happened between these two hot men. *nods*
Summary: Jared has always been kind of an obsession for Jensen… now Jared seems to have a secret and Jensen wants to know what it is.
Notes: This was written for j2_spn_100days also as a gift fic for chani_atreides. I offered to write her a story. She said Oooooh, are you sure you want to offer that to me? Because I will take advantage of it^^ There is one thing I always ask for when someone takes prompts: A Jared/Jensen AU where they are parcour artists, or are themselves but take it on as a hobby^^ There is just something about pretty boys climbing and jumping... well, we all know how hot they are climbing over fences and stuff *g*

edit: What is Parcour?

Jensen had taken to following Jared. Well, for as far as he could anyway. Jared had been disappearing for weeks, ever since he had got back from his latest trip to Europe. No one knew where he disappeared to but Jensen was determined to find out. Jared would have his driver drop him somewhere downtown and then it was as if he vanished. Like he had gained some freakish powers like his character on Supernatural.

Sliding out of his car, he waited. Jared’s driver had told him that he had dropped Jared off just down the road from here the last five times. Within minutes Jared’s driver pulled up and Jensen could hear him tell the guy to pick him up tomorrow at the regular place. Turning, Jared started jogging down the sidewalk. Jensen followed, speeding up when Jared ducked into an alleyway. By the time Jensen got there, Jared was gone. Looking back and forth, Jensen walked into the alley; maybe Jared collapsed or something. Jensen saw a flash of something out of the corner of his eye and he glanced up, and his breath caught in his throat.

Jared jumped over the top of the alley from one building to the next. Jensen wasn’t sure when his heart started beating again but he tore out of the alley and ran to the building that Jared had jumped onto. Thankful that the doors were unlocked, Jensen headed for the stairs. Five minutes later Jensen was on the roof searching for Jared. He was gone.

Thinking that he was imagining things as he headed back to the stairs, he looked to his right and saw that Jared was scrambling over a steep pitched roof at least three buildings away. Walking to the edge, Jensen looked down and swallowed, it was a long way down. Jared appeared to defy gravity as he pushed off the roof and made it to a building opposite it. Grabbing a safety rail, Jared swung up on the next roof and Jensen’s mouth snapped closed.

Heading back down to his car, Jensen was determined to find out what the hell was going on. Driving to Jared’s house, Jensen parked and waited. Before too long Jared came jogging up and he smiled as he saw Jensen’s car. Jensen rolled down the passenger window as Jared reached it.

“Hey man, I didn’t know you were coming over,” Jared said with a smile. He was relaxed and calm, like he hadn’t just been jumping across rooftops. “Come on in. I could use a hand with the dogs since you’re here.”

Jensen smiled in response to Jared’s; he just couldn’t help himself, he never could. Getting out and following Jared inside, he was greeted with lots of barking and wagging tails.

“They love you,” Jared said, grabbing a couple of racquetballs out of a basket.

“They love everyone,” Jensen said dismissively. It was true, Jared’s dogs were well known love bugs. They wouldn’t stop loving people.

“No.” Jared was acting like he was defending his puppies’ honor or something. “They don’t like Chad.”

Jensen snorted. “Nobody likes Chad.” Chad was Jensen’s friend but he was realistic about Chad’s likability factor, which was near nil.

He followed Jared, Sadie, and Harley out to the yard in the back. Jared had been so happy when he bought this place; he had plans that he and Sandy would live here part of the year at least. But then there were the rumors and the thing in the papers and accusations and denials and almost before Jensen knew that there was trouble they had split up, for good it seemed. It was part of the reason that Jared had jumped at the chance to go to Europe and just get away from most of the press.

Throwing a ball for Harley, Jensen watched Jared out of the corner of his eye do the same for Sadie. Jared was acting so normal, Jensen was beginning to wonder if who he seen clamoring over rooftops was actually Jared. Jensen threw the ball again. “So, Europe was good?”

He could almost feel Jared’s gaze directed at him. “Yeah, it was.”

How do you ask if someone learned to jump across buildings and climb walls? “You wanna go out for dinner?” You don’t apparently.

Jared moved so that he was right in front of Jensen. “Are you asking me out?”

Jensen felt a blush starting and rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the cold of his metal ring.

“Dude, you are!”

“Forget it,” Jensen said, suddenly worried about what this would do to their friendship. “I was just asking.” Why was it he always talked first and thought later? Then there was a warm pressure on the back of his neck and he looked up at Jared, who was suddenly a whole lot closer.

“I want to kiss you,” Jared said and Jensen may have squeaked a little. Then Jared was moving in slowly and Jensen was standing, confused as to how he got to this place. Where even considering being kissed by Jared felt right. Feeling the warmth of Jared’s breath brush across his lips, Jensen parted them in anticipation of the kiss. Then Sadie ran between them and Harley hit the back of Jared’s knees and Jared fell over. Frantically trying to miss landing on Harley, Jared turned and took the fall on his hip and Jensen winced in sympathy.

Jared rolled and came up on his feet and Jensen stood there with his mouth open. There was no way anyone could come out of a fall like that and end up on their feet. “Have you been training with the stunt coordinator in your down time?” Jensen asked. He knew that Jared had no more down time than he did but he still had to ask.

“Parcour,” Jared said.

“What?”

“Parcour. I learned about it in England, and then I went to France and saw it in action. I spoke with David Belle and it’s like an art form and a life philosophy all wrapped up into one.”

Jensen nodded to keep Jared talking, not that it took a lot normally to keep Jared talking.

“Basically it’s about efficiency. The quickest way from here to there. But it’s also about knowing what your body is capable of and seeing possibilities.” Jared looked at Jensen. “With the fall, for example,” Jared said. “I could picture twisting and landing so that I could roll to my feet and still miss Harley.” He reached down and petted the dog in question.

“Is this why . . .” Jensen let his voice trail off.

“Why what?”

“You’ve been different,” Jensen said and then tried to explain. “More relaxed, more focused I guess.”

Jared nodded and then was bumped by Harley again. Turning, he tossed the ball. Jensen threw, too, and together they worked to tire Jared’s dogs out. An hour later they gave up and brought the dogs in. Jared went and got a couple of beers. Handing Jensen one, he opened his and took a long pull.

Jensen watched, mesmerized, as Jared swallowed, head tossed back, throat working. Then Jared brought his head back down and nearly caught Jensen staring. He took a drink of his own beer to hide his discomfort.

“You want to learn?” Jared asked and Jensen thought for a moment that he was talking about swallowing before realizing he was talking about the climbing, jumping thing.

“Can you teach me?”

Jared shook his head and then smiled, flashing his dimples. “But I know someone who can.”

“And the roof jumping thing?” Jensen asked.

This time Jared laughed. “So you saw that. We’ll see just how comfortable you can get.” Taking the last swallow of his beer, he moved closer to Jensen. “You know, I never did get that kiss. After all, you asked me out, and I,” Jared set his beer bottle behind Jensen on the counter and then wrapped his hand around the back of Jensen’s neck, “still need to answer you.”

Jensen could feel the cooler skin that had been touching the bottle and the warmth of the rest of Jared’s hand and he felt a spike of desire run through his veins. Tilting his head up, he wondered briefly if this was going to be okay and then Jared’s lips touched his and his brain stopped thinking anything other than hot, soft, hard, and more.

Pulling at Jared, Jensen pressed up against him, his mouth opening under Jared’s persuasive tongue. Kissing him back, Jensen’s tongue tangled with his. Jensen had kissed a few guys, and there was that bungled episode at church camp that he felt guilty about for years. He and the other boy may not have gone all the way but it was far enough to make Jensen feel bad whenever he remembered it.

Someone moaned and they broke apart, panting.

“So, yes?” Jensen tried for some levity. Jared laughed and then they were both laughing. It was intense and yet so familiar, the way Jared made him feel. It was odd considering that the last time he had had feelings for a guy the whole thing had ended in guilt and-self loathing but with Jared it was different.

Perhaps it was because of how much plain old-fashioned love he had for Jared; it gave his head some time to wrap around a concept that his heart already knew. They had got on like sibs since they met, teasing and joking. But this was new, and somewhat fragile to Jensen.

“You really stopped by to ask about the Parcour thing or about this?” Jared asked, pulling Jensen out of his musing.

“Parcour,” Jensen said. “This was just . . .”

“. . . a mistake?” Jared tried to finish his sentence but he was wrong. “. . . a bad idea?” The more Jared talked, the more he sounded convinced.

“Shut up!” Jensen said forcefully. “It was spur-of-the-moment but not a mistake. But maybe I need another kiss to be sure.” Jensen couldn’t stop from flirting with him. It was as if once the line had been crossed he was running all over it.

“Oh you do?” Jared moved in closer again. Running his hand up Jensen’s arm, he wrapped his long fingers around Jensen’s shoulder and pulled him closer, sliding his hand around the back of Jensen’s neck. Leaning down, his tongue flicked out and ran across Jensen’s lips. Jensen opened his mouth and welcomed Jared in.

Someone moaned again and then there were hands tugging at shirts and fingers touching flesh. Jensen wasn’t sure if Jared was hotter than his hands but as he let his fingers run across Jared’s stomach, Jensen smiled as he was rewarded with a large intake of breath. Then Jared was stepping back and Jensen almost ached at the loss.

“So, dinner,” Jared said and Jensen stared at him for a moment before his brain caught up.

“Yeah, my treat.”

“I hope so, you asked me out,” Jared said with half a smile.

“So I did.” Jensen sounded half surprised to himself.

“When?” Jared asked.

“When what?” Jensen was lost, too busy staring at Jared’s mouth.

“When did you want to go out?”

“Tonight?” Jensen asked and tried to stamp down on the disappointed feeling he got when Jared shook his head.

Jared seemed to consider something. “I’m going out to do Parcour, you wanna come? You could meet with my teacher here.”

Jensen looked down; he was still in his work clothes, well, his driving clothes. “Do I need any gear?”

“Tennis shoes and pants you can jump in. Those pants are good and . . .,” Jared headed down the hallway and went into the guest room. Jensen heard a whoop of triumph and he wandered down towards Jared. “Here.” Jared was waving a pair of tennis shoes from where he was on the floor. They must have been under the bed or something. “You left them here, the last time we got drunk.”

That was after they had filmed the third season finale. Jared had been stretched tight and in tears and Jensen hadn’t been much better. They had come to a silent agreement to just come back to Jared’s place and chill, maybe play a game or two on the Playstation. They had picked up beer on the way home and Jared had had a bottle of rum.

There were maybe four people in the world that Jensen felt safe enough around to get drunk, three of them were family and then there was Jared. Thinking back, Jensen came to the conclusion that he had been attracted to Jared all along. There was just so much stuff that he had to work through that it took him a while to get to the point where he thought about it.

Sitting down, he put slipped into the running shoes. He was really interested in what the hell Jared had been doing that helped him stay so calm, focused. Also, he wanted to go along in case his friend got hurt with all this running and climbing and fucking jumping. Jensen offered to drive and Jared accepted, so then they were off. Ending up in the middle of Stanley Park, Jensen met the guy that Jared wanted to teach him this Parcour.

Logan was more than happy to take the time to give him some history and how the discipline had evolved. He explained that Parcour was essentially something that focused on using one’s body to pass physical obstacles as efficiently as possible, allowing one to see obstacles in the urban or wilderness environment as part of a pathway, rather than something blocking them. Nothing was organized; there weren’t even any competitions except against yourself.

Jensen found the lesson interesting, though he did think it odd that an idea which came from a method for training soldiers was now giving his friend peace. Listening closely, he didn’t hear anything about Parcour that scared him. He had honestly been a little worried it was something like a cult but it was nothing like that.

Logan showed him the most important part of Parcour, other than always being aware of your surroundings, and that was how to land. Landing with knees bent and toes making contact with the ground first was the key. Jensen already had some of the basics from all the stunt work he did on the show but Logan was a perfectionist and made Jensen fall and fall and fall again. Rolling and letting his body move with the fall, Jensen made quick progress. By the end Logan was letting Jensen jump and do roll landings from varying heights.

Jared meanwhile had been out running or doing Parcour, because just as it was getting too dark to do anything else safely, Jared came jogging up. They talked about when they could meet next and Jensen wanted it to be as soon as possible because now that he had started this, he wanted to learn. He wanted what Jared had, that peace.

Agreeing on meeting in two days, Jensen asked Logan how much he owed him. The man had just spent a good three hours teaching Jensen but, shaking his head, he turned Jensen’s money down.

“It’s good that you want to learn,” Logan said with a smile.

Jared and Jensen walked out of the park, down long and twisting paths that grew harder and harder to see in the twilight. They hit the parking lot and Jared turned to Jensen. “Where did you want to go?”

‘Your place’ was on the tip of Jensen’s tongue but thankfully some of the higher functions of his brain remained. Dinner . . . tomorrow . . . right. Jensen shrugged. “Mexican?”

“Oh, Cobre?” Jared sounded excited.

Jensen smiled. “Sure.”

Jared got into Jensen’s car and they headed back into the city. Dropping Jared off at his house, Jensen declined an offer to come in. He really needed some time alone to think. He drove home with a kind of buzz in his head. It was as if everything was confusing yet he was seeing everything clearly for the first time.

Opening the door to his apartment, Jensen tossed his keys on the table just inside. He was heading for the bathroom when he heard his answering machine beep, telling him he had a message. The list of people who had his home number was shorter than the list that had his cell number. He wandered over and pressed the play button. Jared’s voice came out of the machine and Jensen wondered why he hadn’t just called his cell phone.

“Uh, hi,” Jared’s voice said. “When we said date, we meant date date, right? God, now I sound needy and stupid. I didn’t want to bug you while you were driving. It really did seem important before I called. Shit, just ignore this, Jen. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jensen smiled a smile a mile wide. Jared was just as uncertain as to what was going on as he was. But they both seemed to want this.

Whatever this was.

Throughout dinner, whenever Jensen thought about Jared he would get this goofy grin on his face. Giving up trying to stop it, Jensen just let himself go with it. Finishing up, Jensen took a beer and headed into the living room. He sat on his leather sofa and thought.

He never considered himself gay, church camp not withstanding. Because everyone plays around, right? That didn’t mean he was gay. But he liked Jared a whole lot. He wanted Jared and, honestly, it scared him. Realizing that his beer was gone, he went and got the rest of the six pack and set it down beside him.

By the third beer he was comfortable with wanting Jared. By the sixth he was fairly comfortable considering the possibility that he was gay. He got into his tequila and found a lemon in the fridge. Grabbing the salt shaker off of the counter, he went and sat at the table. By the fifth shot he was thinking maybe he’d been gay all along. Deciding that this was something he needed to share with Jared, he grabbed his cell and called him.

Jared’s voice sounded sleepy when he answered.

“Dude,” Jensen said, realizing that he hadn’t checked the time before he called and now he couldn’t because he used his phone as a clock. “’t’s late. ‘m sorry.” He tried very hard not to slur his words.

“Jen?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“What’s up?” Jared sounded like he was waking up.

Jensen took a deep breath and let it hiss out between his teeth, something he only did when he’d been drinking.

“You drunk?”

And apparently Jared knew it. Shit. “Uh . . . no,” Jensen lied and he knew Jared would know.

“Jen, is this about what happened? It’s okay, we can just forget it.” Jared sounded sad. Jensen could picture his face and it made him sad.

“No, no, no,” Jensen said and shook his head like Jared could see him. “I ‘thwas going to tell you . . . something important. But you’re sleep’n, so now I can’t.”

“I’m here on the phone with you.”

“But . . . but . . .” There was something he’d done. What was it? That was it! “I woke you, sorry.”

“Awake now.”

Jensen could hear Jared rub his hand over his face. “’t’s stupid. I’m sorry. I think ‘m gay.” Had he just said that?

“What?” Jared sounded confused and maybe angry. “Are you making fun of me? This all been some kind of sick joke? Make a bet with Chad again?”

No, this was all going wrong. “Jay, ‘m drunk and ‘m sorry but I think I’m gay.” There was a long silence on the phone. Jensen gave up; he’d made a mistake calling Jared. Hey, he had a new first, fucking up a relationship before it even started.

“Jen, I’m coming over.”

“What? No, you d’nt have to,” Jensen slurred, a bit surprised.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“What?” Jensen was starting to sound like a broken record.

“See you in a few,” Jared said and then hung up.

Jensen stared at the phone in his hand. What the hell had just happened? Then it hit him, he had told Jared that he was gay and now Jared was coming over. Fuck. Fuck. Looking around, he saw the mess of bottles and got up to pick it all up.

He talked to himself as he weaved around the room, straightening things, cleaning up. “What’d hell. You’re screwed. St’pid fucker.” He tossed the last beer bottle into the garbage as he heard a knock at his door. Slowly he walked to the door, barely weaving. Opening it, he saw Jared outside and he stood there and grinned at him. It was Jared. Then he frowned, something was wrong. Jared had a key so why did he knock.

“Lose your key?”

“Didn’t bring it. Can I come in?” Jared asked.

Jensen stepped back and let Jared in, carefully closing the door, as his next door neighbor was quite nosy. Turning around, he saw Jared in the kitchen looking at the tequila and the bottles in the garbage. “Why didn’t ya bring it?”

Jared totally ignored his question. “Why on earth did you drink this much? I know we don’t have work tomorrow but still . . . you never. What’s wrong?”

Jensen walked carefully to the kitchen and tried to get a glass of water but Jared got in front of him.

“What’s going on, man?”

Jensen looked up at Jared, who was standing so close Jensen could smell him and, oh did he smell good. “Jared,” Jensen said his name, kind of surprised to have him standing there. “You’re ‘ere.”

Jared nodded and didn’t move. It was driving Jensen mad.

“Why?” Jensen asked as he stepped closer to Jared.

“Why what?”

Why what, indeed. Jensen felt like he was floating above his body as he moved closer to Jared and Jared still didn’t move. Taking a deep breath, Jensen reveled in the rich smell of him. That sent desire shooting down his limbs and he could feel the tips of his fingers tingling. Raising a hand, he trailed it down Jared’s face. Jared closed his eyes and Jensen let his fingers trace along his jaw and gently urged him down.

Tilting his head as Jared neared, Jensen opened his mouth and licked his lips. The tip of his tongue brushed Jared’s lips. Jared tasted really good, Jensen decided, his tongue darting out to taste again.

“Jen,” Jared said against his face and then he was kissing him. Jensen pushed Jared up against the sink, his hands pulling at Jared’s shirt. Jared wrapped his arms around Jensen and pulled him closer, tilting his head and attacking Jensen’s mouth at a different angle. Breaking the kiss, Jared leaned back and caught his breath as Jensen buried his head against Jared’s shoulder.

“Jared, wh’ts wrong wif me?”

“You’re drunk, Jen,” Jared breathed in his hair.

“No. Yes. No, no, no.” Jensen mumbled. “Not that.” Taking a deep breath, Jensen smelled Jared again and it made his stomach twist and his knees feel weak. “It’s you, man. I love you.”

Jared pushed Jensen back lightly and turned sideways to get a glass of water. “Come on, let’s go sit on the couch and you can try to tell me what is going on inside your head.” Grabbing Jensen’s hand, Jared led him to the living room. He got Jensen to sit and handed the glass of water to him. Sitting beside him, Jared pulled up his insanely long legs and curled up on the couch and stared at Jensen.

Jensen put the glass down after he finished it. He was still drunk, but maybe just a little more aware of it.

“Why did you ask me out?” Jared asked.

He had the deer in the headlight look, he was sure. Fuck. “I . . . want, I need . . .” Hell, he wasn’t sure he could articulate it sober, he sure the hell couldn’t drunk.

“Okay, okay.” Jared held his hand up and touched Jensen’s lips, stopping him from talking. “Something easier. Why did you get drunk after you asked me out?”

Ah, something he could answer. “Accident, was tinking.”

“A six pack and a half a bottle of tequila is an accident?” Jared sounded astounded.

“A lot of tinking. Thinking,” Jensen corrected himself, talking slowly. “’bout being gay ‘n stuff.”

“So you’re gay when you’re drunk?” Jared asked and Jensen released a huge sigh, shaking his head.

“Maybe i’s you. But no . . . ‘ts always been tis way. Just couldn’ see ‘t. ‘ad to think. See?” Jensen grinned at Jared, happy he’d just explained himself.

“You’ve always been gay but you couldn’t see it until you were drunk?” Poor Jared still had that confused look on his face. “Why now?”

“You o’course, dude.” Another one Jensen could answer.

“How the hell could I make you gay?”

“You’re fucking hot.” Jensen babbled, unceasing. “Make my ‘ead swirl and my fingers tingle. Want you so bad, ‘ave forever. Was scared, your m’best friend. Always liked boys and girls, ‘st felt so guilty. Like you lot. Fell for you, but you’n Sandy, and you never liked boys. ’m sorry, Jay.”

“For what?”

“’itting on you.” Jensen looked down at his hands.

“Dude, I kissed you. Remember?”

“Dogs,” Jensen said and Jared nodded. “’n you kissed me but you pushed me away.” The last came out as a whisper.

“Is that what this is about? You think I changed my mind or something? What about what just happened in the kitchen?” Jensen stared at Jared as he talked. He wasn’t sure what he thought anymore.

“You stopped. I ‘didn’t wanna. ‘ow can you do that?”

“Listen very carefully to me. I ‘pushed’ you away at my house because this is new to me, too. I didn’t want to move too fast and then, in the kitchen . . . dude, you’re shitfaced. I am not going to take advantage of you. Do you get it?” Jared sounded exasperated and Jensen felt bad for him. Crawling across the couch, Jensen got in Jared’s face, never mind that to do it he was sprawled across Jared’s legs where they were curled up. “Jen,” Jared said quietly as Jensen ran his fingers along Jared’s jaw, his thumbs brushing Jared’s lips.

Jared closed his eyes and Jensen leaned in to kiss him. Stopping just above his lips, Jensen told Jared that he needed this. His tongue came out and licked against Jared’s soft mouth. Opening his mouth, Jared let him in. They kissed, hot and wet, tongues dancing against each other for a while. When they stopped, Jensen was straddling Jared’s lap and he could feel Jared’s hard on against his own.

Pulling back, Jensen looked at Jared. It was like he was dreaming. “You ‘kay?” Jensen asked.

“I’m not the one who got drunk tonight. Are you okay?”

“Tired.”

“It’s been a long day and you need your beauty sleep if we are still going out tomorrow,” Jared said and Jensen blinked at him. He might have just been insulted.

“You’re prettier,” Jensen said.

Jared threw back his head and laughed. It made Jensen smile. “Dude, you need to check a mirror.”

“’t’s the truth.” Jensen ran his fingers over Jared’s cheeks, thumbs brushing his lips again.

Jared kissed Jensen’s thumbs and then moved him over. “Come on, another glass of water and then bed.”

Jared stood and so did Jensen. Too fast, the room started spinning. “Oh god.” Jensen sat back down, swallowing rapidly.

“Do you have a bucket?” Jared asked, sounding a bit panicked. Jensen shook his head and then clasped his hand over his mouth. “Bathroom, then.” He pulled Jensen and got him moving down the hallway.

Jensen barely made it to the toilet before he was throwing up. He thought he heard Jared leave and he told himself that was fine. Jared shouldn’t be in this mess anyway. Then he was back, placing a cool washcloth against Jensen’s neck. Raising his head, Jensen was greeted with another washcloth for his face which he used, wiping his mouth and nose.

“Feel better?”

God, why did he have to sound so damn cheerful? “Nugh,” Jensen got out as he flushed the damn toilet. Levering himself up, he was greeted with a Jared who was flashing his dimples at him. He got to the sink and rinsed his mouth out, which helped. Brushing his teeth, Jensen looked at Jared in the mirror. He was feeling better, he decided. Not any more sober but better.

He swayed as a wave of exhaustion hit him and Jared was there steadying him. Jensen made it across the hall to his room and Jared again was there, helping him out of his clothes, leaving him in his briefs and t-shirt. Getting into bed, Jensen grabbed Jared. “We ‘kay?”

Jared nodded. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Jensen sighed with relief and let his eyes drift shut. They were okay, Jared said so, he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

Waking the next day, Jensen put a hand to his head. It really didn’t hurt that bad but the early afternoon sun streaming in the window did. Opening his eyes, he saw two aspirin and a glass of water beside the bed. Oh god, that meant he hadn’t just dreamed it all. He’d made a complete ass out of himself in front of Jared.

After showering and cleaning up, he headed tentatively towards the kitchen. Jared was seated at the table, cup of coffee and bowl of cereal in front of him. Jensen’s stomach growled at the sight of the food and Jared looked up from the paper he was reading and smiled. Feeling a bit relieved, Jensen walked into the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Jensen said as he moved to the cabinet to get out a bowl for cereal. He was very glad Jared hadn’t made eggs or fried bacon, he wasn’t sure his stomach could take it. Pouring some corn flakes, he turned and found that Jared had got him a cup of coffee. It sat steaming on the table.

“What about the dogs?” Jensen asked as he sat down.

“Oh, I ran home a while ago. They’re good. How do you feel?”

“Embarrassed as hell, dude. I’m sorry,” Jensen said.

“For what exactly?”

“Getting drunk, calling you, spilling my guts, figuratively and literally. Is there something else?” Jensen asked.

“What about when you threw up on me?”

Jensen looked at Jared, eyes wide. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

Jared laughed. “Just joking, you didn’t puke on me.”

“Asshole,” Jensen said and Jared still laughed.

“You should have seen your face.”

They finished eating, the silence broken by the occasional chuckle. Rinsing his bowl out, Jensen sat it beside the sink and turned around, leaning against the counter. Jared folded the paper and laid it to the side. Jensen poured himself another cup of coffee to give him something to hide behind. He had the feeling that during this talk he was going to need it.

“So,” Jared fired the opening volley.

“So,” Jensen replied.

“Still gay this morning?”

Jensen felt a blush flushing his face. “I . . . I . . .”

“It’s okay, I was half expecting it. Figures.” Jared sounded resigned.

“No, it’s just . . . I am. I’m also confused,” he admitted.

“Confused about whether or not you’re gay?”

Why did Jared so misunderstand him? They could normally finish each other’s sentences, they were so close. Jensen shook his head and took a drink of his coffee, waiting.

“What then?”

“You,” Jensen said.

“Me?” Jared sounded almost as confused as Jensen felt.

He took another sip. “Since when are you . . .” Jensen couldn’t finish the sentence. “What about Sandy?”

Jared leaned back in the kitchen chair, lifting the front feet off the ground and balancing on the back ones, letting his toes rest on the floor. “Do you know what happened with me and Sandy?”

Jensen shook his head. Jared had been distressed when they broke up and Jensen hadn’t wanted to intrude. Lord knows the tabloids spread a whole lot of gossip but Jensen always dismissed that crap out of hand.

“Do you want to?” Jared asked and Jensen nodded. Jared looked down at his hands, clasped on the table and he carefully sat them flat down on the table. “Sandy is the best and if she wasn’t so honest, I’d probably be married to her right now. She knew, somehow even before I did. So, she gave me an ultimatum and I couldn’t do it, so she left.”

Jared made absolutely no sense to Jensen. “What?” he asked, feeling like he was missing a really important part of the conversation.

“Sandy knew that I was attracted to you,” Jared said slowly, “before I did. She waited for me to say something and when I didn’t she confronted me. As much as I love her, I realized she was right. I do love you more. When I told her the truth, she left.”

“Me?” Jensen’s voice almost came out as a squeak. “You broke up with Sandy over me?” he asked after he coughed and got his voice somewhere near normal.

“Well, that’s what it came down to in the end but it was more like she knew she would be playing second fiddle to you in my affections and she didn’t think she deserved that. Neither did I. Why did you think we broke up?”

Jensen sighed. He honestly hadn’t had any idea about what happened between Jared and Sandy, just that one moment they were totally in love and engaged and then they weren’t anymore and Jared had left for Europe. He shrugged and asked about something that had been niggling away in the back of his mind.

“You went home and came back, without keys?”

“Yeah, I ran.”

“Gotta be ten miles between your place and here. You run last night, too? You did Parcour at night? Are you crazy?” Jensen asked when he finally got how Jared had made it to his place.

Jared shrugged. “It seemed important. Wasn’t it?”

“What? Me being an idiot drunk? You could have got hurt or killed.” Jensen tried to get Jared to see just how dangerous he thought this was.

“Full moon last night. I was fine. I do, however, need to get home for a while. Dinner still?”

“You still want to, after last night?”

“Hell yeah, food and you’re paying. What could be better?” Jensen could think of a lot of things but he didn’t say anything, just smiled at Jared’s grin.

“You need a ride home?”

“Sure,” Jared surprised Jensen by answering.

“Okay, let me get my shoes,” Jensen said.

Jensen was half scared that everything was going to be awkward but he should have given Jared more credit. They talked about normal stuff, families and things like Jared’s crazy neighbor. Pulling up to Jared’s place, Jensen sat there thinking that if this was anyone else he would lean over and kiss them. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Jared and both of them knew that as laid back as Vancouver was, there was still the possibility that they might get photographed. He didn’t think either one of them was ready for the repercussions of a picture of them playing tonsil hockey getting out.

Jared seemed to understand Jensen’s conflict. Sliding a hand across the seat, he gripped Jensen’s hand and with a quick squeeze he let go and Jensen still felt his hand long after he was gone.

Two days and one date later, they were once again in Stanley Park to meet with Logan. This time, after making sure Jensen remembered how to land, they went for a run. Through the woods. As Jensen followed Logan across logs, over streams and over branches, he began to understand what Logan and Jared had been telling him. Every stone, every branch, became a possible handhold or push off point, a possible way over or through.

He swung down from a branch he’d been walking along and nearly ran into Jared. Logan was right behind him. “Great job, Jensen.”

“He’s good?” asked Jared, almost like Jensen wasn’t standing right there.

“Better than you at this stage,” Logan said and Jared grinned and clasped his arm around Jensen. “Next time the both of you are running through town. You want to meet Saturday?” Logan asked Jensen.

Jensen nodded, still a bit heady from the praise. He got compliments from people quite often but Jensen had become used to dismissing them as mostly ass kissing. But Logan had nothing to gain from praising Jensen and it gave him a warm feeling to know that he was actually good at something.

Two more dates, one of them movie night at Jared’s place, five kisses and one very frustrated Jensen later, they met up with Logan again. Only this time, they were at Portside Park just off of Waterfront road. Logan unfolded a map. Drawing a straight line between the park and a parking lot a little over a mile away, he told them he’d meet them there.

“You might work more efficiently together,” he suggested and then took off. Both of them watched as he scaled a wall and then disappeared. Looking at each other, they grinned and took off.

Jensen watched Jared closely because he had done this before in this setting. Jensen hadn’t. Jared ran so Jensen ran. Getting to a wall, Jared did this bounce climb thing that had him on the top in moments. He stopped and held his hand down for Jensen, who was doing his best to follow him. Making it to the top of the wall, Jensen grabbed Jared’s hand, pulled himself up and, with a grin, they were off again, heading for the parking lot.

Jared hopped up on a handrail and jumped out, landing with a roll like Jensen had been taught. Jensen followed, grinning like a fool. Vaulting, leaping, and jumping, Jared and Jensen moved fairly smoothly across the urban landscape. They got to the parking lot and Logan was there waiting for them.

“Great job. Any problems?” Logan asked. They shook their heads and Logan gave them a smile. “Good, now we can switch off … the park one time, the city the next. Before too long you both will be very good Traceurs.” At Jensen’s frown, he elaborated. “A Traceur is someone who practices Parcour.”

Jensen nodded and, after a discussion on when to meet next, he and Jared took off, heading towards the car. They took a different route but they quickly made it back to the park and the car. Jensen felt calm yet invigorated. Jared seemed to understand how he felt and suggested that Jensen come over to his house to spend the night. Freezing, Jensen turned to look at Jared to see if he was offering what Jensen thought he was offering.

“You don’t have to,” Jared said after an uncomfortable silence.

“I want to,” Jensen spoke up.

“Your silence says otherwise,” Jared pointed out.

“I’m nervous, okay? I’ve never . . . well, there was that time at camp but we didn’t …”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re a virgin?”

Jared didn’t have to smirk at him when he said it, now did he? Jensen pulled to a stop in front of Jared’s house. Turning in his seat, he looked at Jared. “Yeah, it is.”

“Good,” Jared said and once again slid his hand so that it covered Jensen’s.

“Good?” Jensen was confused.

Jared smiled and got out of the car. Jensen got out and followed Jared inside, Harley and Sadie greeting them enthusiastically. Jared let the dogs out into the yard and then shut the door. Frowning, because Jared usually went out with the dogs, Jensen walked past Jared, or he tried to. He was stopped by a hand to his arm. Understanding why Jared didn’t go out with the dogs came as he pulled Jensen up to him and kissed him.

Jensen leaned into Jared, his mouth opening under Jared’s persuasive tongue. Sliding his hands under Jared’s shirt, Jensen ran his hands along Jared’s sides, letting his hands skim over the hard muscles that Jared had worked so hard for. Jared broke the kiss and then, grabbing the back of Jensen’s head, he exposed Jensen’s neck. Licking and sucking, Jared worked his way down.

“Wait,” Jensen said. Jared’s hands dropped away and he stepped back, leaving a gap between them that Jensen wanted to move into. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Jensen looked at Jared.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to do this,” Jared told him.

“I want to,” Jensen said emphatically. “It’s just I need to catch my breath. This is very intense.”

Jared smiled. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“Really?” Jensen rose to the challenge. “Bring it on.”

Smirking, Jared dragged Jensen back to his bedroom. Jensen looked around it with interest. California King bed on a simple frame, not surprising given how tall Jared was. Simple yet well made pine dresser and bedside tables. Pictures of Jared and his dogs. A quick glance around and he didn’t see any pictures of Sandy.

“Find what you’re looking for?” Jared asked.

“Where do you attach the handcuffs?” Jensen teased him.

The smile that Jared gave him sent a warm tingle to his middle. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Jeeze, he’d been kidding but now that he had said it, he could imagine being tied down to that bed with Jared doing whatever he wanted to him. Jensen groaned quietly and Jared huffed. Looking at Jared, Jensen raised an eyebrow. “Kinky much?” Jared asked and Jensen smiled.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Sweet,” Jared said and closed in on him. Jensen watched as Jared stripped off his t-shirt and tossed it towards the hamper in the corner of the room. He watched with his mouth drying as Jared moved in closer. Jared seemed to feel his hesitation. “You want to do this?” he asked.

Jensen stepped closer and ran his hands up Jared’s chest to his shoulders and pulled him nearer. “Oh, I want to,” he whispered into Jared’s mouth before kissing him. He had never pictured himself as a ‘toes curling inside his shoes when he got kissed’ kind of guy but Jared, oh god, Jared had his feet almost cramping.

There was a flurry as clothes got removed between kisses and heavy petting. Jensen didn’t think he had ever been harder in his life, when Jared reached down, slipped his hand inside Jensen’s underwear and squeezed his hard on. Murmuring something about being responsive, Jared slipped both hands down the back of Jensen’s briefs and pulled him close. Jensen rubbed against Jared shamelessly.

“Jen,” Jared breathed against his face. Pushing him down on the bed, Jared moved across him until he was sitting across Jensen’s lap. Jensen was amazed at how easy this was. He had a moment of hesitation as he felt Jared’s hard on brushing against his through their underwear, but then Jared did this hip roll thing and Jensen almost came.

He wanted. He wanted. He wanted everything that Jared promised, with his lips, his hands, that tongue and those hips. He wanted it all. He tugged at Jared’s underwear to try and give him a hint.

Jared backed off, leaning on his arm and looking down at Jensen. “Mmm, you look good enough to eat,” Jared said and Jensen blushed. Apparently that was a good thing as Jared chuckled and then slid down Jensen’s body, fingers pulling Jensen’s underwear down as he moved. Jensen lifted his ass and let Jared take his briefs off, feeling a little embarrassed and shy until Jared took Jensen’s dick in his mouth.

“Fuck yeah,” Jensen murmured and Jared came off with a pop.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll get to the fucking.” He grinned as Jensen’s cock jumped in his hand and then he leaned back down and sucked it back into his mouth.

Jensen moaned and pushed up into that hot mouth. “Oh god, Jay,” he muttered and then there was something cold and wet pressing at his asshole as Jared sucked on him. It took Jensen a moment to realize it was Jared’s finger. Where had he got the lube? Looking down, he saw the bottle lying on the bed. His head dropped back down as Jared pushed a finger in.

“Too much?” Jared asked as Jensen sucked his breath in after he had slipped in a third finger.

Jensen shook his head and pushed himself down as best he could, lying on his back, onto Jared’s fingers. He moaned as Jared pushed against something inside him. Stroking it over and over, Jared reduced Jensen to a quivering mass. “Please, please,” he begged.

“What, Jen?”

Whimpering because he wasn’t certain, Jensen pushed down on Jared’s fingers which Jared curled inside him, pushing against the thing that felt so good. “Ung,” he said.

“What was that?” Jared asked and he curled his fingers again, the bastard.

“More,” Jensen finally gasped out.

Jared smiled above him and, after pulling his fingers out of Jensen, he leaned down and kissed him. Sitting back, Jared grabbed a condom and, after opening the package, he rolled it over his cock, with Jensen leaning on his elbows, watching. He urged Jensen to roll over onto his stomach and up to his knees.

Jensen missed the intimacy of seeing Jared’s face but as Jared explained and slowly entered him from behind he understood Jared’s reasoning. Jared was a big man and his dick was proportioned right along with him, what that meant for Jensen was that he felt like he might split in two as Jared pushed inside him. However, Jared had done his prep well and it burned after the head of Jared’s cock was in him but it didn’t hurt.

Starting to fuck him with short shallow strokes, Jared moved in and out. Jensen’s body adjusted around the intrusion and welcomed Jared inside until Jared was pressed flush up against Jensen’s body. Jared held still as Jensen got used to him being there until both of them were making needy sounds and Jensen moved his hips, trying to get Jared to move.

Jared moved, Jensen moved. Feeling Jared’s long fingers digging into his hips, Jensen moaned. Soon the only sound other than harsh breathing was of flesh hitting flesh. Jared began to lose his rhythm and suddenly Jensen found himself pulled up, Jared’s cock still in him. His neck was attacked at the same time a large, warm, slick hand wrapped around his own dick.

Jensen wasn’t sure what sound he made as Jared pushed and pulled, bit and fucked him but whatever it was hurt his throat. He came, hard and wet, come splattering on the bed, Jared’s hand, his stomach, and some even hitting his chin. He could feel Jared still and Jared’s cock pulsing inside his ass. He let Jared hold him for a moment before he moved, hissing as Jared pulled out of him.

Smoothing a hand down Jensen’s side, Jared looked at him with concern. “You okay?”

Jensen lay there trying to figure that out. Was he okay? Were they okay?

“Jen?” Jared was starting to sound concerned. Jensen moved the focus of his eyes from the ceiling to Jared’s face.

“I think you broke me,” he said with a small smile that Jared missed because Jared was off the bed and then back again almost before he could blink.

“Let me see,” Jared said and nudged at Jensen’s leg. A million and one thoughts flew through Jensen’s brain, words to reassure Jared that he hadn’t meant literally but he decided it was easier to just let him see. Jensen had already run the argument through his head and had figured out that Jared would insist no matter what.

Jared had a warm washcloth that he gently swiped over Jensen’s ass. Cleaning him off, Jared examined him closely and Jensen felt the blush he had been staving off, overcome him. Then Jared did something that wiped all thought from his brain, he licked him. Slowly his tongue ran across his abused hole, soothing his flesh. Jensen had died, that’s all there was to it. Otherwise he would have to explain how Jared’s tongue was sweeping across his hole and up under his balls and back down again and how it felt so damn good.

“Mmnn,” Jared purred and Jensen felt the rumble shoot straight from his balls up his spine. Feeling his cock stirring, he was a bit amazed at his recovery time; after all, he wasn’t eighteen anymore. More tongue and then Jared took his half hard dick in his mouth and sucked him down.

Jensen gripped the sheets to keep from pushing up into that hot, moist mouth. Jared licked around the head and then took him all the way in. Jensen could feel his cock sliding down Jared’s throat. Then Jared hummed and Jensen gripped his hair and pulled him off. Urging him up so that Jensen could kiss him, Jensen did.

“Not broke any more,” he murmured against soft lips that smiled.

“Good, then you can fuck me.”

Jensen’s eyes had been shut and at Jared words they flew open. Green eyes looked into hazel ones. “Why?” Jensen asked.

“Maybe now that I’ve got you here I don’t want to let you go. Maybe I want everything I can get before you walk out that door,” Jared said fervently, looking into Jensen’s eyes. “Because maybe you won’t come back,” he whispered the last and Jensen couldn’t stand the look in Jared’s eyes.

Pulling him down for a slow kiss, Jensen tried to reassure him. “I’m here, Jay, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Jared’s hand smoothed a condom over Jensen’s hard dick, slicking him up with lube and stroking Jensen’s cock. He pushed Jensen flat on his back and moved over him. Putting his hand out, Jensen stopped him. “What about . . . let me . . .” He motioned to Jared’s ass. Jared shook his head.

“I like it to burn, it feels so much better when it stops,” Jared said as he straddled Jensen, reaching around and placing Jensen’s dick at his hole. They both held their breath as Jensen felt the head of his cock pressing against Jared, then he slipped in. It was indescribable. Hot and moist, silky and tight, oh fuck, so tight. He wasn’t sure how he was going to last. Jared moved.

“Fuck,” Jensen said.

Jared smiled down at him and then moved again. Jensen’s head fell back on the bed and he pressed his hands and feet into the mattress, letting Jared move and set the pace. Sin or not, going to hell or not, it was worth it just to see the expression on Jared’s face. Leaning down, Jared kissed him and Jensen kissed him back.

It was amazing. He could feel his orgasm swirling in his belly and then there was lightning flowing through his veins, his balls tightening against his body. “Jared, I’m gonna,” Jensen said and Jared smiled that smile, the one with the dimples and Jensen wanted to do something, anything, to keep it there.

Jared’s ass tightened on his cock and he just let go, pushing up into Jared. Watching as Jared fisted his dick and then came all over Jensen’s chest and stomach, Jensen then pulled Jared down for another kiss. Peeling apart, one of them suggested a shower and then they were there.

Washing in relative silence, broken only by a kiss or a request for the soap, they cleaned up. Jared washed Jensen carefully, treating him like he was made of glass. Jensen tried to return the favor but Jared took care of himself, so Jensen made due with running his fingers over Jared’s soaped up skin.

Getting out, they dried off and slipped into some clean sweats. Jensen padded to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. Turning around, he saw Jared standing hesitantly at the entrance to the room.

“What?” Jensen asked.

Jared still hesitated and Jensen suddenly got it. Just like he’d talked about before, Jared was scared this would ruin them, their friendship, everything. “I’m here as long as you’ll have me,” he said again.

Walking into the kitchen, Jared took Jensen into his arms. “You’re stuck with me forever then.”

Jensen tilted his head back and kissed his best friend. “Good.”

Fic: Promises To Keep

Mon, 12 May 2008 14:53:46 GMT

Promises to Keep a gift for merihn
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: Promises To Keep (2/2)
Pairing: Sam/omc (briefly) Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17, if you are not old enough don't click
Word count: 5000 this part 9500 or so total
Warnings: incest, frottage, handjob, slash, underage
Beta: by the ever beautiful ~biza
Disclaimer: The last time I checked I wasn’t Kripke. Not mine.
Summary: Sam has feelings for Dean, and he tries his damndest to stop them.
Notes: This is a gift fic for merihn who was kind enough to prompt me back in February when my muse left me with Sam/Dean, slow, easy, sunrise.! For everyone else… I’m still working on it and thank you.
Edit: now betaed ftw!

Breaking the kiss off, Dean sat back, his ass again rubbing against Sam’s hard cock. “Dean,” Sam half whined, half moaned and Dean smirked at him. Sliding off of Sam and onto the bed next to him, Dean looked at Sam.

“Test time,” Dean said.

Sam looked at him in confusion at first and then he got it, he was supposed to ‘demonstrate’ what he learned on Dean. Moving, Sam slung a leg over Dean’s waist and this time he had his ass pressed against Dean’s cock, which he was glad to find out was also hard. Sam took advantage of his position and traced his fingers across Dean’s chest and then down his arms and back up.

Following what Dean had shown him, he leaned down and slowly let his lips brush across Dean’s. Sam let his tongue out and flicked it across Dean’s lips and then slowly sucked Dean’s bottom lip into his mouth. Dean groaned and Sam felt it go straight to his cock that was trapped between them.

Sam broke the kiss and panted for a moment. It was too overwhelming, he thought, as he let his forehead rest against Dean’s. Then Dean tilted his head up and urged Sam on. Sam copied what Dean had done earlier and ran his lips over the juncture where Dean’s neck joined his shoulder. He nibbled his way up Dean’s neck and ran his lips across Dean’s jaw. As Sam got to Dean’s ear, Dean started moving against him and Sam slipped back, his legs lying between Dean’s and their cocks almost touching, separated by Sam’s sweatpants and Dean’s cotton night pants.

They both groaned and Sam rocked again as he pushed his lips against Dean’s. Dean’s hands were shoving at his sweats and Sam broke the kiss and backed off. Then, almost quicker than Sam could think, Dean had his pants down around his thighs and their cocks grasped in a firm grip. Sam rocked into his brother’s hand and against Dean’s smooth cock. He was going to come and soon, he was surprised he hadn’t already. He moaned Dean’s name and let go, his come covering Dean’s hand and slicking up their stomachs. Dean shoved his cock against Sam’s a few more times before coming, too.

There was a knocking at the door and Sam was off of Dean and snatching up his sweats before the pounding stopped. “We’re leaving soon,” Dad said. “You up?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Sam said and he looked at Dean who laying on the bed with a sort of dazed expression on his face. “Give us a few?” Sam asked.

“Sam,” Dean said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Did we just?”

“Yeah, kinda. You okay with that?”

Dean gave him a kind of spaced out grin that had Sam wondering if beer was the only thing that Dean had had at the bar.

“I’m good, if you are.”

“Good. Now get your ass up.” Sam threw a wet washcloth at Dean. “Clean up so we don’t smell like come.”

Dean ran his fingers through the mess of come on his stomach before bringing them up to his mouth to taste and Sam groaned. “Come on, dad’s expecting us. Dad, Dean.” Sam tried to get his brother moving and some of it must have sunk in because Dean was suddenly in high gear, grabbing the washcloth and cleaning up.

Stuffing their stuff into their duffels, Sam quickly packed. Dean was in the bathroom brushing his teeth and Sam pushed his way in past Dean to use the toilet.

“Bitch,” Dean said, spitting in the sink. Something inside Sam relaxed that he hadn’t even known was tight; they were back to normal banter.

“Jerk,” Sam replied as he pissed, the noise loud in the small room. Dean snorted and grabbing his toothbrush, left. Finishing up, Sam washed up then brushed his own teeth. Stepping out of the bathroom, Sam was brought up short as Dean was waiting for him.

“This is done. It stops now.”

Sam looked at Dean in confusion. What the fuck? “What happened to ‘I’m good if you are’?”

Dean shrugged. He fucking just lifted his shoulders and let them drop like it didn’t matter, like he wasn’t breaking Sam’s heart. Sam turned and let his face grow cold.

“Fine,” Sam snapped and grabbed his bag.

“Sam,” Dean said and Sam stopped, his hand on the door. “It’s wrong. I’m wrong.”

Sam turned and looked at Dean. “Yeah, tell me just how wrong you are. While you’re at it, you might think about this, I wasn’t the one drunk last night.” Sam turned and slammed out of the room, choking back tears.

Storming out, Sam tossed his duffel in the back of the Impala. No matter how mad he was at Dean, he wasn’t crazy enough to want to ride with Dad. He slumped into the front seat and waited for Dean.

Dean came out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Walking over to Dad’s truck, he and Dad talked for a few minutes and Dean nodded sharply and headed back to the car. Sam slouched down more so that Dean wouldn’t know he’d been watching him in the side mirror.

Dean opened the door, tossed his bag in the back and got in. He didn’t say a word, just slipped his AC/DC tape into the player and cranked it. Sam turned so that he was looking out the window. If Dean wasn’t going to talk then neither was he.

They drove pretty much straight through the next couple of days, finally stopping outside some worn out old town in Arizona or New Mexico, Sam wasn’t sure, all he knew was that it was hot and when it wasn’t hot it was cold. Two days in the car with Dean and they stank. Dad grabbed them two rooms again and Sam was almost racing Dean for the shower. It was near nine at night and the air had started to cool off outside, so after his shower Sam dressed in his sweat pants and stepped outside. The air conditioning that this place offered was so lame that Sam couldn’t justify turning the thing on to just clank away when stepping outside was so much easier.

Dad stood outside too and Sam gave him a nod and leaned against the peeling paint of his door.

“Can I ask you a question, Sam?” Dad was talking to him like he was a normal person; this immediately put Sam’s guard up. But what could he say to his question except yes?

“Yeah,” Sam half grunted.

“I need you to do something for me.”

Sam huffed. Why wasn’t he surprised?

Dad must have taken it as a yes because he continued. “I need you to watch out for your brother. You’re old enough now to know what kind of trouble your dick can get you in and Dean, well, let’s just say he’s got double the trouble. You stick close. You hear me, Sammy? Dean needs you.”

Sam stopped a laugh, or maybe it was a sob, because the last thing that Dean needed was him. The object of their talk stepped out of the room, his damp hair sparkling in the light of the motel sign. Sam got a look from Dad and he turned and headed back inside the room, hot and stifling was better than being outside with him.

Sliding windows open, Sam overheard part of what Dad was talking to Dean about. Him, of course. His ears burned as Dad asked Dean about girlfriends or something. He lay on the bed -- dad, of course, had gotten them one damn bed -- and pulled the pillow over his head.

Dean came in later and Sam felt him lay down next to him.

“Dad said I should watch out for you,” Sam finally said into his pillow, wondering what Dean would say to that.

“What?” Dean asked.

Sam moved the pillow and said it again.

Dean sighed. “Sam, you’re fifteen, how are you going to do that?”

Sam lifted his chin. “I’d do a damn better job than you do.”

“Whatever, Sammy,” Dean said and they lay there in the darkness. Sam could tell that Dean wasn’t sleeping and he was sure that Dean knew he wasn’t asleep.

Sam couldn’t stop thinking about Dean kissing him. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it this whole time, though he had tried to. Finally it cooled off enough for Sam to drop off to sleep, only to wake up shivering a couple of hours later. Dean didn’t seem to be bothered but Sam got up and shut the windows, noting the hoarfrost on everything outside. Damn, but you’d never know it would be above a hundred in a few hours. He shivered and crawled back into bed and tried to get warm.

He must have woken Dean up at some point because Sam found his brother could still wrap around him. Sam was worried that he was going to respond to Dean touching him but his fears were unfounded because as soon as he warmed up, he also fell asleep.

The hell of trying to get to sleep had nothing on the hell of waking up with your brother’s hard cock rubbing against your back, Sam was sure of it. As Dean pressed against him, Sam tried to move away only to be stopped by Dean’s arms as they tightened around him. Finally he couldn’t take it anymore and he rolled so that he was on top of Dean, who blinked up at him with sleep-filled eyes.

Lowering his head, he leaned down and ran his lips across Dean’s and then as Dean sleepily opened his mouth to Sam’s urgings, he slipped his tongue out to touch Dean’s. Sam was surprised and ecstatic when Dean started to kiss him back. One of them moaned and Sam was flipped onto his back and Dean looked down at him, his eyes clear.

“Thought I told you no,” Dean said and Sam shrugged. He never was that great at taking orders and Dean knew it. Then Dad was pounding on the door again.

“Come on, boys, day’s a wasting.”

Dean let go of Sam and slid off of him. Looking his brother in the eyes, Dean said, “I said no and I meant it.”

Sam huffed but didn’t say anything.

Months later as Sam started school again, in Magnolia, Arkansas he knew Dean meant it. He didn’t touch Sam; he hardly looked at Sam for the past three months. Dad had parked him and Dean here. Writing a temporary power of attorney for Dean and then fucking dropped off the face of the earth.

Now he understood why Dad had asked him to keep an eye on Dean, because after Dad left, it was like Dean disappeared. Sam knew that he was around but he was avoiding Sam, or at least avoiding being alone with Sam.

Leaving for school one morning, Sam saw panties lying across the crappy plaid print sofa and he wanted to hit something, knowing that Dean and some girl were sleeping in his room. A few days later it was briefs and Sam knew Dean was doing it on purpose, trying to drive Sam away. All it did was make him mad.

Sam confronted Dean, cornering him in the kitchen. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Dean knew exactly what Sam was talking about. “Not that it’s any of your business but I’m having fun.”

“You’re bringing strangers into this house. What if someone asks about the salt or the guns? What about everything Dad told us about staying safe? I have never brought anyone home, ever.” Sam’s voice was flat with controlled anger.

“It’s not like they’re going to talk,” Dean said while rolling his eyes.

“Why the fuck not?” Sam asked.

“Because they’re not interested in anything else, they want what they paid for!” Dean yelled at Sam.

Sam stood staring in confusion. “What?” There was no way Dean had meant what he had just said.

“Nothing,” Dean said and pushed past Sam.

Sam put his hand out and stopped Dean. “What did you mean?”

“Fuck off, Sam, and mind your own business,” Dean said coldly and Sam snapped. Everyone kept him in the dark about everything. He wasn’t four anymore and he had thought that at least Dean . . . obviously he had thought wrong.

“You are supposed to be here to take care of me,” Sam said.

“You can take care of yourself,” Dean said and pulled out of Sam’s grasp.

Turning, Sam punched the wall that was between the kitchen and the living room. He was surprised when his fist went though the sheetrock, then he hit the wall stud and all he felt was pain.

It must have shown because Dean looked at him concerned. “Sam?”

“I’m fine,” Sam said, cradling his hand in shock.

“Let me see,” Dean said softly.

“Fuck you, Dean. I can take care of myself, remember?” Sam snapped and Dean’s face tightened with anger.

“Fine,” Dean snapped and, grabbing his coat and the keys to the Impala, he left.

Sam stood there for a long time in shock. He found himself sitting down at the table and resting his hand on it. His suspicion that he had broke it was confirmed when he set his hand down and felt the unmistakable almost audible feeling of bone scraping against bone. Knowing he should get up and at least get some ice, Sam didn’t have the energy to do it.

Later he tried to move and, as he stood, there were black spots floating in front of his eyes. He sat back down. If he passed out it would just be worse. Sam sat and distracted himself by thinking about what Dean had said. Thinking back, thinking about Dad and money and how much Dad usually left them, Sam did the math. Dean had always, always, managed to come up with money for food and clothes. Even just Goodwill stuff, it still cost. Dean might have done a five finger discount occasionally but the one time he caught Sam, he laid into him.

Shaking his head, Sam’s eyes filled with tears, partially because of his hand, which fucking hurt, and partially because of Dean. Hours passed and Sam fell asleep once but the moment he moved his hand, he jerked awake. He was still sitting at the table when Dean came home smelling of cheap perfume and spunk.

Sam looked wearily up at Dean, tear stains on his face. He sniffed and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve.

“Sam?” Dean asked and then looked at Sam’s hand that was resting on the table. “Oh shit, Sam,” he said, noticing that it was swollen to nearly twice its normal size.

“It hurts.” Sam didn’t even notice he was talking like a five year old.

“Shhh, Sammy.” Dean was at his side in a moment. “Let me see.”

“S-s-s-sorry,” Sam said, his breath still stuttering from the tears.

“We need to get you to a doctor, Sam, I can’t fix this,” Dean said, his voice tired. “Come on.”

Sam sniffed and then sniffed again. “I am not going to the doctor with you smelling like that, you reek.”

“Dude, now isn’t the time to get all girly on me,” Dean pointed out as he tried to get Sam to his feet.

“I am not going anywhere with you smelling like that, Dean.” Sam almost said that he smelled like a whorehouse but thankfully whatever part of his brain was still working kept it from coming out. At least he hoped it did. The way Dean jerked back from him made him think that maybe he had.

Dean left and reappeared to Sam what seemed like moments later but it must have been longer because Dean was wet from a shower and this time he smelled really good when he leaned over Sam to look at his hand. Finding something to splint his hand with, Dean wrapped an Ace bandage around it and then made a makeshift sling from one of Sam’s hoodies.

Helping Sam up, Dean led him to the car, the pain jolting Sam out of whatever place he drifted off to. Sam got in and was leaning his forehead against the cold window. The drive must have taken at least twenty minutes as the nearest ER was two towns over. Dean had grabbed the insurance stuff and the fake id’s to go with it, as he told Sam after they were parked outside the hospital.

“Sam Jones, think you can remember that?” Dean shook his shoulder. “Sam, are you with me? The insurance is for Sam Jones.” Sam nodded and Dean came around the car and helped him out.

The emergency room was a nightmare for Sam. First was the wait, then he was examined and x-rays were taken then apparently someone called the cops because there was one there. First he took Dean aside and questioned him and then he questioned Sam.

No, Sam had told them, his brother hadn’t done this to him. He explained to the cop what he had already explained to the doctors and nurses, that he had hit his hand and then hadn’t told his brother how bad he was hurt. They kept asking him why he had hid it and where were his parents? Sam told them that he hadn’t wanted to seem like a crybaby and that it really hadn’t been bad at first. And as for his parents, Sam told the same story he told everyone. Mom was dead and Dad was a long haul truck driver. Dad left Dean in charge. And yes he was a good brother, thank you very much, and could he please have something for the pain.

Finally they gave Sam a shot of something and after having him soak his hand in ice water to bring down the swelling they put it in a cast from his fingers to almost his elbow. Setting up an appointment for more x-rays in a week, they gave Dean two scripts and directions on how to use them. The pain had receded and Sam’s exhaustion was taking over. Dean helped Sam to the car and that was all Sam remembered until Dean was getting him out at home. He must have stopped and filled the prescriptions because he had them but Sam had slept through it all.

“’m sorry,” Sam mumbled as Dean helped him onto the couch, settling his arm across his stomach on a pillow to keep it above the level of his heart.

“Shhh, Sammy, I’m the one that’s sorry,” Dean comforted him.

Sam slept, waking up when his hand started to hurt and his bladder was telling him that a trip to the bathroom was in order. He could hear Dean talking on the phone, to Dad, Sam had thought at first. Sam was both relieved and anxious. Some part of him wanted his Dad home to make everything better like he always said he would and the other part of him feared the look of disappointment that Sam was sure would be on Dad’s face when he saw what Sam had done.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean said as he walked into the living room. “I’ll call if we need you.” Sam started to sigh with relief that it was Uncle Bobby, then his hand tried to curl and pain made him gasp. Dean hung up the phone and was at his side.

Making it clear that he needed to use the bathroom, Dean helped him in and to Sam’s mortification pulled his pants down. At least he let Sam hold his own cock and piss but he waited right there and it took Sam forever to relax enough to pee. Pulling Sam’s pants back up and tucking his cock in, Dean helped him back to the couch, bringing Sam one of the Oxycontin that the doctor had prescribed him with a full glass of water.

Sam took the painkiller and then sprawled out on the couch again. “Didja call school?” Sam asked after a bit and he was surprised to find himself slurring his words.

“Yeah, I pick up your homework tomorrow. Sucks to be you,” Dean tried teasing him but Sam didn’t get it.

Looking down at his arm, Sam took Dean’s words and made them sharp enough to cut. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re not still mad at me are you?” Sam eyes rolled up and were sparkly with unshed tears.

Dean sighed a huge sigh. “No, Sam, I’m not mad.”

“What about Dad, is Dad going to be mad?” Sam was fighting to keep his eyes open.

“You let me worry about Dad. Sleep, Sammy.” Dean had gotten a blanket and was tucking it around him.

“’t’s Sam,” Sam mumbled just before he fell asleep.

Sam woke up hours later, it was the middle of the night. His hand hurt and he whimpered a little but not enough to wake Dean, who was sleeping in the recliner across the room. At least that’s what he thought ‘til Dean spoke up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. Sitting up, he felt the drug still in him as the room spun. Looking over at Dean, Sam wondered why he couldn’t ever get it right with him. Maybe Dean was sure that Sam was damned and didn’t want to be damned too. Maybe Dean had gotten over it, over Sam. The thought made Sam feel small. He didn’t want Dean to be damned but he couldn’t stop the way he felt like Dean seemed to be able to, he had tried. He had tried liking girls, he had tried liking other guys but it was Dean who was always in his thoughts. It was Dean he needed. He hoarded every look, every word of his anymore, just because.

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean said and it was then Sam realized he had been talking out loud. His eyes widened in panic. Dean had told him it was over and Sam hadn’t listened and now he was going to leave like Mom, like Dad. He couldn’t catch his breath. Then Dean was kneeling in front of him, gripping his hair.

“Sam,” Dean said and then again, “Sam, you with me?”

Sam couldn’t breathe, he had to leave. He had said too much and now Dean was going to go. He had had enough of seeing disappointment in Dad’s eyes, he wasn’t sure he could survive seeing it in Dean’s. His eyes darted around the room, his thoughts racing. He had to go before Dean did.

“Sam,” Dean tried again. “Sam, I’m right here.”

Shaking his head, no no no. Dean knew how wrong he was, how fucked up he was and he hated him. He had to, Sam hated himself.

“No, Sam,” Dean said and gripped his hair tighter, pulling their foreheads together. “I’m the one, Sam. It’s all my fault. I did this to you.”

No, forever ago Dean had said they were okay but then they hadn’t been. It was Sam’s fault. It was Sam’s sin not Dean’s. Dean hadn’t wanted Sam like Sam wanted him. Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. Images of Dean fucking other people flashed through his mind and Sam felt his stomach twist in a desperate need to get away.

Dean seemed to know because he just tightened his hands; Sam felt his fingers pressing against his scalp. Sam didn’t know what was going on, his mind was racing and at this point his only thought was of escape, to get away.

Then Dean was kissing him and all thoughts of escape just left his brain. Opening his mouth, Sam kissed Dean back. Tongues touched then slipped apart, lips parted and came back together. Sam slid his good hand through Dean’s short hair and held him still as they rested their foreheads together and just breathed.

Sam put his fingers on Dean’s mouth when he started to say something.

“Don’t, please?” Sam asked. “I’m sorry, Dean.” Sam took a big breath in and then let it out. “I’ve tried and tried t’stop feeling this way but I can’t.”

“Sam, I,” Dean started again and Sam kissed him, begging, pleading with his lips. He breathed out when Dean’s mouth opened and let him in.

Sam was crying when Dean pulled back finally. “Sam?”

Taking a long shuddering breath in, Sam tried to speak but his throat closed. Swallowing, Sam tried again, “”m sorry.”

“You should be, bitch,” Dean said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood and it worked.

“Jerk,” Sam said with a small smile.

“How’s the pain?”

Sam hadn’t thought about it but now that he had calmed down his hand was aching. “Hurts,” he said.

“Do you want some ibuprofen? The doc said you could have it with your other pills,” Dean said quietly and Sam nodded. Then Dean was gone and back like magic, putting a pill up to Sam’s lips and handing him the glass of water. Sam’s hand shook as he lifted the glass but Dean let him do it on his own.

“Bathroom?” Dean asked.

Sam shook his head and moved to lie back down. “You’re not going to leave, right?” Sam asked as he looked up into Dean’s face, Dean’s features cast in shadows by the light in the kitchen.

“No, Sam, never.”

Sam smiled a happy smile, Dean’s words warming him inside. Closing his eyes, he heard Dean settle into the recliner and then Sam fell asleep again.

The weeks passed with Sam returning to school and the hospital for follow up x-rays. His hand was healing well and his bones were aligned so they started him moving his fingers, trying to keep everything from stiffing up. Sam didn’t forget what Dean had been doing for them, for him. He never talked about it with Dean though and Dean seemed to think that Sam had forgotten with everything else that had happened.

Before the cast was off, Dean had walked in on him trying to stitch a hole in his pants. It had been hell getting the needle threaded using the wrong hand to try to push the thread through. Settling down on the bed, Sam was trying to keep his stitches small and even, like Dean had shown him, when Dean had walked in.

Looking up at the noise, Sam smiled at Dean. Things had been relaxed between them, they were in no rush to move things along but neither was Dean shutting him out or pushing him away. Dean looked down at the pants and back up at Sam.

“What’s this?”

“Just fixing a hole.” No matter what, Sam didn’t want Dean to have to spend money on him. Sam had cut back on the amount of food he was eating at home, because knowing what Dean was doing to make sure Sam stayed fed and clothed was tearing him apart.

Social services had come out and interviewed the both of them and with a smile and a handshake they left, apparently happy with everything. Dean hadn’t even needed Uncle Bobby to come down, so he was thrilled. They had asked Dean if he was working and he had assured them he was, at a body shop in the next town, but that the hours he worked allowed him to be home with Sam.

School was a different kind of torture for Sam. Knowing enough not to get involved with any guys, he tried to just get by. Making friends meant phone calls and going over to one another’s house and Sam couldn’t, he just couldn’t. Trying to make Dean’s responsibility as easy as he could, he did everything he was told, acting like the good soldier for once.

Dean woke Sam one morning with slow kisses as the sun broke over the edge of their world. Sam kissed Dean back, running his hands though Dean’s hair and tugging Dean down to settle between his legs. The friction of Dean’s jeans rubbing against him nearly drove him crazy. The kiss broke and Dean smiled at Sam.

“You’ve gotten a whole lot better,” he said.

“I had a good teacher,” Sam said and then he got a sly look in his eyes as he wrapped his legs around the back of Dean’s legs. “Maybe . . .” Sam took a deep breath, “maybe you can . . .” he blushed and looked away from Dean’s questioning eyes.

“Yeah, Sam?” Dean asked with a slight smile on his face.

“Teach me more,” Sam blurted out, worried that he was pushing, “but you don’t have to. I mean if you’re happy then I’m happy.” Sam started to panic when Dean didn’t say anything. “How about we just forget it? I shouldn’t have said anything, never mind,” Sam babbled.

“Shut up, Sam.”

“Huh?” Sam asked, bringing his eyes up to meet Dean’s.

Dean held Sam still, then rolling his hips against Sam, he leaned down and kissed him. Tongues touching and tasting, breaths mingling as they broke apart and then Dean put his hand on Sam’s mouth.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked quietly and seriously.

It finally sank into Sam’s head what Dean was offering. Not just kisses but more. And more is what Sam wanted more than anything. Sam nodded and Dean smiled.

Leaning down, Dean gave Sam a long slow kiss full of promises. Sam was looking forward to making him keep them.

Fic: Promises To Keep

Fri, 09 May 2008 21:11:22 GMT

Promises to Keep a gift for merihn
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: Promises To Keep (1/2)
Pairing: Sam/omc (briefly) Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17, if you are not old enough don't click
Word count: 4500 this part 9500 or so total
Warnings: incest, slash, underage
Beta: my beautiful ~biza
Disclaimer: The last time I checked I wasn’t Kripke. Not mine.
Summary: Sam has feelings for Dean, and he tries his damndest to stop them.
Notes: This is a gift fic for merihn who was kind enough to prompt me back in February when my muse left me with Sam/Dean, slow, easy, sunrise.! For everyone else… I’m still working on it and thank you.
Edit: now the betaed version

Sam woke Dean as he had every morning since he could remember, with a hug and a kiss and a nose rub. Dean would pretend to grumble and then throw Sam on his back and tickle him.

They did it until Dean could no longer throw Sam on his back. Sam still tried to wake Dean with his hug and kiss and nose rub but he would barely get the hug in and Dean would shrug him off, mumbling something about being too old for baby stuff.

So Sam learned to cry only when Dean wasn’t around. He wasn’t a baby! He loved his brother and would show him that he wasn’t a baby. Throughout his school year Sam would keep it to himself when he was teased and when he couldn’t hide what was happening because of bruises or black eyes, he would make it sound like the other boy looked worse, because that is what Dad wanted to hear.

Dean too, at least so it seemed to Sam. Years later Sam learned that Dean never believed him when he said that the other guy was looking worse than he was. Mainly because Dad had started them wrestling one another and learning the basics of self-defense and Sam was crap at it.

Sam would never admit that he always felt like an outsider. From first grade onwards, Sam was always jealous of Dean and the ease that he made friends, of how well he fit in. For the first couple of years Dean would try to include Sam but as they moved and moved again, Dean found that fitting in meant excluding Sam. It wasn’t such a big deal at school as they always went to different schools, but after school, Sam would try to hang out with his brother, which generally didn’t bother Dean. But when Dean had friends over, Sam might as well have been invisible.

At times Sam felt like he really was invisible. Teachers wouldn’t call on him at school, and if Dean didn’t say something to him he would go days without speaking to anyone. One time when Sam was in sixth grade, he kept track. Ten words were spoken directly at him over the course of a week. ‘You fucking little shit, Winchester,’ was five of them and ‘sit down’, ‘eat’, and ‘stop that’ were the other five.

Then puberty hit Sam like a freight train. In the summer between sixth and seventh grade he grew a foot and a half, gained fifty pounds and never stopped hurting. Long and lanky, he entered yet another school but his height seemed to make all the difference. Girls noticed him, boys noticed him, hell, teachers finally noticed him and he thrived under the attention.

Growing his hair out in ninth grade, Sam fought with Dad about it and everything else every time he was home. The only one who seemed to care about him was Dean but Dean, when he wasn’t going with Dad, was finishing up his senior year. Dean was still surrounded by sycophants but Sam didn’t care as much as he finally had ‘friends’ of his own.

Dave was in eleventh grade and also on the Varsity basketball team; Sam was hoping they were going to stick around so that next year he could get on it. Sam offered to tutor Dave who needed some help with his trigonometry, and Sam was good with numbers. People mystified him but numbers he got.

It was probably their fifth or six tutoring session at Dave’s house when Dave kissed Sam. Other than Dean and the morning kisses, it was his first kiss. Dave was nervous and Sam was inexperienced so they never got past a couple of make out sessions. Once Dave passed his final and was guaranteed a place on the Varsity team the next season, he stopped using Sam as a tutor and dropped him as a friend.

Later, Sam figured out that Dave was confused and scared that Sam was going to say something about them kissing but at the time all Sam knew was that he went from being if not popular at least accepted, to being an outcast. He tried to hide it all from Dean but was unsuccessful.

“Sam, you got something to tell me?”

“No.”

“About what David Cabot has been saying?”

Sam swung his hair down like a shield between him and his brother. “No,” he said again, his breath blowing his hair out.

“Damn it, Sam. Is it true?” Dean sounded frustrated and when Sam glanced up at him he looked it too, the skin tight around Dean’s mouth and eyes, a sure sign of anger.

“What, Dean? Is what true?” Sam tossed his head back and looked his brother in the eyes, it’s not like Dean had a monopoly on anger.

“That you’re gay. That you forced yourself on him.”

Sam couldn’t believe that Dean was asking him that. “Whatever.” Sam shrugged, more hurt than he let on.

Dean’s voice gentled, he reached out and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Sam, you can tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Sam moved away from Dean. “That Dave kissed me and I liked it? Or maybe you want to hear that he forced himself on me? Or maybe you want to hear that what they’re saying at school is true and I threw myself on Dave and almost raped him but he beat me off like the fairy I am?”

“I want the truth.”

Sam gave a barking laugh. The truth would send Dean running for the hills.

“What?”

“You don’t want the truth, you just want me to say what you wanna hear, just like Dad.”

Dean gave Sam this intense look, like he was trying to see his soul or something. “I always want the truth from you.”

Sam walked across the room and slammed his hands against the kitchen table. He could see Dean jump at the sound, or maybe his anger, out of the corner of his eye and he lost it. Dean scared of him, right.

“You bastard,” Sam growled. “You don’t give a shit about me, you’re just worried that if I’m seen as gay it will affect your fucking status. You never talk to me, you never even acknowledge me at school. And now you want me to think you give a shit? You have no fucking clue what my life is like, and you judge me. Well fuck you. Believe whatever the hell you want to, it’s what you do anyway, just like Dad.”

Dean stood there, his eyes wide with pain for a moment then they clouded with anger. “Well, if you weren’t such a little freak, maybe I would acknowledge you.”

Sam stood there, staring at Dean with his mouth hanging open. He had always suspected Dean felt that way but he had honestly never expected to hear him say it. Now he was doubly glad that he hadn’t told Dean the truth. Dean saw him as a freak now, what would he think if he knew that Sam was fucking hard as a rock every time Dean was within smelling distance? Sam didn’t admit to anyone, hell it twisted his gut, that the person he wanted to be with wasn’t Dave, it was Dean.

Turning, Sam grabbed his backpack and ran out the door. For a moment he had thought he saw regret flash across Dean’s face but he was so hurt he couldn’t really give a damn.

Wandering around town all night, Sam showed up at school the next day. There wasn’t that much of the school year left and like his guidance councilor told him, from this year on, all the grades counted towards his gpa and he needed a good one to get scholarships. He ignored the snickers and whispers as he walked down the hall. Getting to his locker, he saw the word Fag scrawled in red spray paint across his locker door.

Suddenly Dean was there, beside him, glaring at everyone who was standing around laughing at Sam. “Everyone had better leave my brother alone.” Dean was full of barely controlled anger. Sam stood up ready to push his brother away but he saw something in Dean’s face, something he hadn’t seen in a long time. He couldn’t have said what it was but he let Dean stand up for him.

Sam made it through the day somehow and he was walking home when Dean pulled up in the Impala. Great, Dad must be home. Driving along beside him, Dean tried to coax him into the car, finally blocking his way as he tried to cross a side road. “Get in the damn car, we need to talk before we get home.”

Flinging the door open, Sam slumped into the seat next to his brother. “Dad’s home, that why you stood up for me today?”

Dean reached across and punched him in the arm. “Idiot. For a brilliant kid you sure can be stupid sometimes.”

“I’m not a kid,” Sam snapped.

“Then stop acting like one.”

Sam didn’t move from where he was against the car door. He just leaned his forehead against the window, his breath hitting it and bouncing back and fluttering his hair.

“I don’t think you’re a freak,” Dean’s voice was soft. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I know what I am.” Sam felt his anger draining out of him, the hopelessness of his situation filling him.

“It’s okay to be gay, or bi, or whatever. It doesn’t make you a freak. I should know.”

Sam’s head snapped around so fast that it pinched a nerve and he all he could see was stars, his vision darkened so that Dean was barely in focus. Closing his eyes, he let the pain wash over him. When he opened them, Dean was close, having pulled over. Dean was too close.

Jerking back, he banged his head against the door. “Dean?”

“I’m sorry, Sam.” Dean leaned back, away from Sam. “I told Dad you spent the night with friends.”

Sam laughed, because if he didn’t he would cry. His father was so oblivious to Sam that he didn’t even know that Sam didn’t have any friends, not any more. The sound came out a harsh caw that echoed in the car. Dean didn’t look angry, just sad.

“Was he mad?” Sam asked the question that was burning across his brain. Dean shook his head and he started up the Impala again. “He was talking about moving again, after school of course, and I think I’ve got him convinced to leave now.”

“But what about you?” Sam asked. “Only three more months and you graduate.”

“What the hell am I going to do with a diploma, Sam? Really? Can you see me working around hunting?”

Sam shook his head. He wasn’t quite as depressed as before. Dean had talked Dad into leaving, he wouldn’t have to stay here with everyone hating him. Dean was willing to give up graduating just to help him.

Spontaneously, he lurched across the car and wrapped his long gangly arms around Dean. Dean tried to pat his back and Sam pulled back and it was then he realized what he had done. His eyes were caught by Dean’s brilliant green ones, he couldn’t catch his breath and he could have swore that there was a flare of something in the depths of Dean’s eyes before Dean closed them. Taking a deep, shaky breath he slowly pushed Sam away. Again.

Fearful that he had given himself away, Sam curled in on himself as Dean pulled back onto the road. They pulled into the driveway and Sam, whose brain had been churning at a hundred miles an hour, asked Dean a question. Awkwardly and blushing, he asked Dean what he meant about knowing about being gay or bisexual.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I would have thought it would be obvious.”

Sam stared at Dean. It wasn’t obvious to him, the only thing he had ever noticed was that Dean had friends and he didn’t. Sam shook his head.

Dean slapped his thigh and looked up. “There’s Dad, we should go in. Remember you were at a friend’s.” Dean didn’t want to get in trouble with Dad anymore than Sam did. Sam nodded and they got out of the car.

Dad did what he always did and told Sam they were moving and he needed to find out what he needed to get from his school because Dad wasn’t positive where they were moving, south he figured but not a place. For once Sam wasn’t unhappy with his father’s authoritarian ways. He pretended to mope a bit because that’s what Dad expected but inside he was cheering.

On the last day, a week later Sam was standing outside Dean’s chemistry’s class, waiting for him so that he could get the hell out of this place. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop but the door was open and the teacher wasn’t exactly quiet.

He was pushing Dean to finish out high school. Telling him that he should be going to college, that he was gifted. Sam could see Dean shrug. The teacher pushed a paper into Dean’s hand, a recommendation he said. Dean thanked him and caught sight of Sam standing in the doorway. He said he had to go and thanked the teacher again.

Years later Sam wondered what life would have been like if Dean had taken that advice. Left him and Dad, like Sam would leave them in a few years. Would Sam have left? Knowing that he would be leaving Dad with no one to back him up? Sometimes Sam wondered if everything Dean did was to try and make Sam’s life better.

So, they moved. Sam finished out the ninth grade in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Dean started hunting full time with Dad and Sam quietly rebelled in all the ways that he thought Dean should. The problem was, it was mostly Dean that noticed.

Stopping in at Uncle Bobby’s during the summer, John wanted to leave Sam there but somehow over the course of the week John changed his mind. Sam suspected that Uncle Bobby had had a talk with Dad because all of a sudden Dad was trying to talk to him.

Sam gave monosyllabic answers, if he couldn’t get away with grunting. It went on for a while, then Dad gave up and left Sam with Dean in the Impala. Sam sighed with relief. Later that night Dad got him and Dean one room and he took the one next door. He and Dean would have to share a bed, which was nothing new.

Getting into the room, Sam shut the door behind him and sat his duffle by the bed when he was attacked. Dean shoved him up against the wall.

“What the fuck?”

“You little selfish prick. Dad spent more time trying to talk to you today than he has said to me all year and what did you do? Blow him off. Can’t you at least see he’s trying?” Dean had a hold of Sam’s shirt and pulled him close to make sure Sam was listening.

“Why do you always do what he says?” Sam asked quietly.

“Because it’s important.”

“That’s it?” Sam asked and he pushed against Dean and froze as he realized that Dean had a hard on. Quickly Sam debated pretending he hadn’t felt what he felt but he took too long to pull back and Dean pushed him back, his eyes dark and shaded, let Sam slam into the wall. He left without saying a word.

Sam sat on the bed, his head in his hands, thinking things he had only fantasized about in the deepest part of the night. His stomach was churning, it wasn’t an easy jump from fantasy to reality and some part of him was sure that he was misunderstanding Dean’s reaction. If Sam came clean, told Dean what he wanted, who he wanted, who’s to say that Dean wouldn’t head for the bathroom and throw up. It was what Sam felt like doing right now.

Dean loved him, Sam knew that, but would he still be able to look at his little brother if he knew just how perverted he was? Sam wasn’t sure so he decided to keep his mouth shut.

Dad came over and, after asking where Dean was, he took Sam out for dinner. Again he tried to talk to Sam. Sam was quicker and asked about his most recent hunt, and Dad got caught up in a story telling Sam how he and Dean had had to dig up at least five unmarked graves before they found the right one. Bragging about how smart Dean was, figuring out which area they even needed to start looking.

Sam nodded and kept his mouth full so that Dad couldn’t ask him any questions. They got through dinner and Dad said something about hitting the bars to see if he could find Dean and Sam nodded, obedient for the moment. Uselessly repeating for the millionth time for Sam to lay down the salt, Dad tore out of the parking lot.

Laying salt across the door and along all the windowsills, Sam brushed his teeth, showered, very carefully not thinking about Dean as he jacked off in the shower. Watching his come washing down the drain, Sam kind of thought it was a good analogy for his life, just a lot of wasted stuff that should be washed away.

Getting out of the shower, Sam heard the door slam and Dean curse. Slipping into his sweat pants, he took a breath and heading into the room. Dean was sitting on the bed, trying to take his shoes off. Sam noticed that he had broken the salt line and fixed it, which was probably what he had been cursing about.

Sam sat down on the bed and Dean looked up at him. “I’m on that side,” he didn’t sound drunk exactly but neither did he sound sober.

“’kay,” Sam slipped into bed on the side away from the door and curled his now long frame into as tight as spot as he could get.

Dean sighed a huge sigh as he looked at Sam then he grabbed his night pants and headed for the bathroom. Sam debated on whether he should get up and get a shirt on but before he made up his mind, Dean was coming out of the bathroom and Sam screwed his eyes shut.

Lying down on his side of the bed, Dean sighed and pulled the covers towards himself. They had done this when they were kids but they hadn’t in recent memory. Sam let out an irritated huff as Dean pulled the covers off of him. “Dude, we did this when I was three.” Sam poked Dean.

“Well, you were acting like you were three so I thought you wanted to play.”

“You are such an ass, Dean.” Sam grabbed the covers and yanked. Dean let go of the blanket and Sam and the blanket fell off the bed. Dean was laughing. Never had Sam longed so hard to be old enough just to walk out of the door and not look back.

Dean was still laughing and some small part of Sam knew it was because he was almost drunk but the rest of him didn’t care. He launched himself at Dean, tackling his laughing ass. Sam swung his fist and it glanced off of Dean’s chin, a now very angry Dean.

Sam tried to get on top of Dean, knowing from their many sparing matches that he could use his long legs and arms to his advantage but Dean was still four years older and at fifteen he might have his height but he didn’t have the mass to back it up and Dean was soon on top of Sam, straddling his waist, holding his hands above his head.

They were both panting and then Sam realized his body was responding to Dean just before Dean did. Sam bucked and twisted and tried desperately to get Dean off of him. Dean didn’t budge and Sam’s hard cock was now straining against his sweats and pressed against Dean’s ass. Sam let his head fall back against the bed in embarrassment and shut his eyes.

Dean didn’t jump off of Sam like Sam expected he would. He didn’t move at all, his ass still pressed up against Sam’s hard on, still holding Sam’s hands above his head. Sam slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Dean, who had the most curious expression on his face. It wasn’t disgust or loathing, which is what Sam had feared, but a strange combination of longing and sadness.

He was close to Sam, still. Dean hadn’t pulled back and it wasn’t hard for Sam to lift his head and brush his lips across Dean’s. They were rough and dry and not moving. Dean wasn’t kissing him back but still his brother didn’t move and Sam let his head fall back in despair, his eyelids fluttered shut again as his eyes filled with tears and he fought to keep them in. Dean still wasn’t moving and Sam huffed, trying to play his hurt off as anger.

Then Sam felt Dean’s weight shift and he leaned down and Sam could feel his warm breath still tinged with alcohol blow across his lips. His bare chest rubbed against Sam as he moved closer and Sam felt his nipples tighten. Still Sam kept his eyes shut, he didn’t want to open them and find that it really wasn’t happening, that Dean wasn’t leaning over him.

“Don’t cry, Sammy,” Dean breathed just above him and Sam felt a tear slip past his lid and roll down the side of his face. “Didn’t want you to know, ‘m sorry.”

Sam’s eyes opened up and he blinked the tears out of them. “Know what?”

“That I’m so fucked up inside, Sammy. I hurt you and I was just trying to protect you. Didn’t want you to know, or guess. Was terrified that my friends would see right through me and you might even get taken away. I was so scared, so I ignored you. ‘m sorry, Sammy, thought you had friends all this time.” Now Dean was close to tears.

Sam heard what Dean was saying and then he heard what Dean was saying. Sam was filled with a sudden euphoria, that years later, after falling for Jess, he would classify as falling in love but at the time all Sam knew was that Dean wanted him like he wanted Dean and that if they both wanted it, maybe he hadn’t fucked everything up between them.

Dean had loosened his grip on Sam’s hands and Sam pulled one out of his grasp and wrapped his fingers around the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him down to kiss him. Sam’s lips moved gently over Dean’s, coaxing, pleading, begging to be let in. And finally Dean parted his lips and gave Sam what he was asking for.

The first time Dean’s tongue touched his, Sam moaned and tried to suck it into his mouth. Dean backed off with a small smile. “Who you been kissing?”

“Dave.” Sam blushed. “But that was months ago.”

“Before that?”

“No one.”

“Ever?” Dean didn’t have to sound so surprised but Sam just shook his head.

“Well, little brother. I am going to do your future boyfriends or girlfriends a favor. I am going to teach you how to kiss.”

Sam squirmed on the bed, his still hard cock rubbing against his sweats and Dean and this talk of kissing wasn’t helping it go down.

“Hold still, I can’t think with you pushing up against me,” Dean whispered into his hair.

“Now first, you close your eyes.” Dean leaned over and placed a kiss on each of Sam’s eyelids. Sam wanted to watch Dean but he also wanted to do as Dean told him, because what if he didn’t and Dean stopped.

“Then you, kind of, ghost your lips over the other person’s.” Dean demonstrated and Sam felt the heat of his breath flow over his lips then a soft brush of Dean’s lips. Sam lay there barely breathing.

“Then maybe you slightly bite one lip, but you don’t attack.” Dean took Sam’s bottom lip between his and sucked it into his mouth. Gripping it lightly with his teeth, he flicked his tongue over it. Sam hadn’t thought his lip was connected directly to his cock but it jumped when Dean’s tongue started playing.

Sam could feel Dean grin and he released Sam’s lip. “Sometimes you can go and bite the other one, but usually that isn’t what is going to happen. What do you think should happen next, Sam?” Dean asked, his breath still flowing warm over Sam’s face. “Ah, no opening your eyes,” Dean said as Sam’s eyelids fluttered.

“You’re going to kiss me,” Sam said hopefully.

He could feel Dean’s cotton night pants rub against his sides as Dean moved, shifting his weight back some. “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

Sam actually thought about it. “Showing me what comes before.”

He could hear the approval in Dean’s voice, “And do you think there should be more that comes before?”

Sam nodded and because he couldn’t see Dean some part of him thought that Dean couldn’t see him. “Yes.”

“Okay. What else?”

“I dunno,” Sam said and Dean laughed.

“That’s a good place to start.” Dean leaned back over him. He brushed his lips along Sam’s jaw and up to his ear. “Admitting you don’t know means you’re ready to learn. Are you ready to learn, Sammy?”

Sam gulped and nodded, slightly. Dean slid his hand up Sam’s arm, across his collarbone and wrapped them around the back of Sam’s neck, his fingers threading through Sam’s curls. Then he pressed his thumb against the underside of Sam’s chin, not forcing but encouraging Sam to lift it up.

Lifting his chin, Sam’s eyes flickered open as Dean kissed up his neck, starting at the now exposed juncture of his shoulder and neck; Dean licked and nibbled his way up. He moved his hand so that it was wrapped around the back of Sam’s head as he got to Sam’s ear.

Dean bit down on Sam’s earlobe and then sucked it into his mouth, his tongue licking it and Sam was going crazy. Every move Dean made had him more turned on. Then Dean kissed down his jaw, until he was hovering over Sam’s mouth. Sam could feel the heat of his breath just before his lips touched Sam’s.

Sam was determined to get this right so he lay there and let Dean slowly nibble and suck on his lips before Dean slid his tongue out to brush against them. Sam opened his lips and Dean’s tongue tentatively touched Sam’s and then tilting his head, Dean slowly moved his lips and they parted and came back together.

Breaking the kiss off, Dean sat back, his ass again rubbing against Sam’s hard cock. “Dean,” Sam half whined, half moaned and Dean smirked at him. Sliding off of Sam and onto the bed next to him, Dean looked at Sam.

“Test time,” Dean said.

Part Two

Fic: What Matters Most (8/8)

Tue, 06 May 2008 15:20:57 GMT

What Matters Most a gift for lucilla_darkate
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: What Matters Most (8/8)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 see complete warnings.
Word count: 2300 or so this part
Beta: Lucie actually betaed the first three quarters of this and then real life interfered… go figure. My lovely ~biza then came through and went over the whole thing.
Warnings for this chapter: some spoilers for season one, drinking, rimming, misuse of Bobby, oral sex. This was completed last year so it might be rough compared to what you’re used to from me. Also, this isn’t a death fic but neither is it my normal happy ending.
Warnings for whole fic: Spoilers for part of season one, Slash (boy/boy everyone), Cursing, Incest, Bloodplay, Drunkenness, Alcoholism, Rimming, Frottage, Hints of Dom/sub, oh hell I’m sure I missed something. . . just be warned
Notes: See part one for disclaimer, summary and full notes

This is it my pretties, tell me what you think. Feedback = Love

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six
Part Seven

Three months later and he wasn’t sure if Dean wanted to kill him or just tie him up and rape him. He got looks that said both things from his brother. Then Chicago happened, and Meg again, and the Daevas, and Dad. If things had been tense between them before, after being around Dad they fell right back into the old roles and it was both a relief and a nightmare to Sam.

They had separated from Dad because Dean had decided that Meg was right. They were a threat to him. Sam had argued against it, he wanted to stay with Dad to help him. If he was honest with himself he wanted to stay with Dad because Dean acted more like his brother and less like a scorned lover around him. Even if acting as his brother had occasionally included drunken kisses at least Sam had been in control, he had felt like he had lost it in Kansas and no matter what he did, he couldn’t get it back.

Dean had taken to bringing women and men back to their hotel room to fuck. After Chicago it all came to a head one night. Dean had brought back a girl and her boyfriend. Sam listened to Dean fucking the girl while getting fucked by the boy. Pretending to be asleep until Dean had let them both out and had shut the door, Sam sat up and looked at his brother’s smug face.

“What the hell what that Dean?”

“Oh, you’re awake?” Dean asked as if he hadn’t known had been lying there listening to him.

“Well, you know, calling my name as you fuck some girl while you get fucked by her boyfriend has a way of making sure I’m awake,” Sam sniped.

“How do you know his or her name wasn’t Sam?” Dean asked.

“His name was Taylor and hers was Sara and you are an idiot.”

“Who’s the idiot who lay there pretending to be asleep?”

“Fuck you, Dean. No, wait, you already got fucked!” Sam got dressed. He had had all he could take, never mind that the entire mess was all of his making.

Sam went for a walk that turned into a run, which turned into a slog as it began to rain and then pour. Of course it would rain. Usually his temper didn’t last for very long and this time, he had a good hour in the rain just thinking. Thinking about what Dean had done and about what he had done to Dean for these past months. What he had done had been so much worse. Never explaining why he had stopped touching Dean, not that Dean had asked out loud but he had with his eyes and the occasional questioning touch that Sam had always shrugged off. Sam decided that he actually deserved much worse than what Dean had been doing to him.

Then they had hunt that went badly, then very badly. They hadn’t been talking to one another for a couple of days and Dean had been drinking fairly steadily. Sam had known that hunting for anything was a bad idea but everything he could find on bogys was that they were a slow kind of hobgoblin. Slow and stupid.

He should have known when they couldn’t find any traces of the thing at first but then they ‘stumbled’ across some tracks that things weren’t right. Part of the problem was that Sam was tired, angry and distracted and the rest of the problem was that Dean was drunk. Not his normal ‘I can function’ drunk, but ‘was that a tree I just fell into?’ drunk.

So the ‘slow and stupid’ creature maneuvered them so that they had ended up shooting each other instead of it. They somehow managed to get back to the Impala; Dean with a silver bullet in his shoulder and Sam with one in his leg that, if the squishing in his shoe was any indication, had hit a vein. He applied pressure to the wound every time they stopped but they had to keep moving to get to the car. Dean wasn’t much help but they finally made it.

Sam slid into the driver’s seat and took a look at Dean who was slumped in the seat against the passenger door his hand on his shoulder, what a pair they were. Dean roused enough to mumble something.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Bobby’s,” Dean said loud enough this time. Bobby’s? Sam had planned on taking them to the nearest hospital and said so. Dean shook his head. “Bobby, closer no questions.”

Dean had a point. So Sam pulled out and headed towards where he thought Bobby’s place was. Missing the turn off, Dean had told him so even though Sam was surprised he was still conscious. Pulling into Bobby’s yard they were greeted with a double barrel shotgun, as soon as Bobby recognized them and proved to himself that they weren’t possessed, he hurried them inside or tried to. Pulling open Sam’s door he started cursing as he saw all of the blood.

“Dean,” Sam said wanting to make sure that Bobby knew he was hurt, too. Watching as Bobby looked over at Dean slumped against the passenger door, his wound bleeding sluggishly.

“Your brother’s fine but you are both idiots,” Bobby said as he helped Sam out. “Can’t either one of you tie a tourniquet?” It was the last thing Sam heard for a while because he passed out.

Waking up, Sam saw he had an IV bag hanging above him. He must have moved because Bobby noticed.

“Mornin, sleeping beauty.”

“Dean?” The first thing out of Sam’s mouth was his brother’s name.

“Fine, he didn’t pass out from blood loss, just alcohol poisoning.” Sam’s eyes widened as he didn’t catch Bobby’s teasing. Then Bobby just kept talking, “What were you thinking? Driving with that hole in your leg?’ Sam started to say something but Bobby held his hand up. “Never mind, I smelled your brother from your side of the car.”

Finally realizing that Bobby would be a whole lot more upset if Dean had been suffering from alcohol poisoning, Sam relaxed just as Bobby sat down on a chair right beside the bed.

“What were you thinking?” Bobby asked again. “Taking your brother on a hunt, drunk.” Bobby sat back and finally seemed to be willing to listen to his unthinking self but Sam didn’t want to talk.

Bobby just waited, settling in the chair. Finally Sam gave a huff and started talking.

“Dad and Dean. . .” he launched into an explanation that he knew wouldn’t satisfy Bobby but there was no way he was going to tell the truth. That he had fucked his brother, stopped fucking his brother, and his brother had set about fucking the rest of the country.

Bobby let it slide. That was one of the things that Sam had always noticed about Bobby, unless it was life or death, right at that moment, he could let things go. He was friends with John Winchester after all.

Sam recovered slowly. Dean had had his bullet removed; Sam’s was still lodged in his thigh. Bobby had decided that after he had stitched the vein back together that Sam could live with the bullet there. If it was bothersome, he could always take it out later, oh joy.

Going back and taking care of the bogy with Dean’s help, Bobby and a sober enough Dean didn’t appear to have any trouble. But then Bobby hadn’t been dealing with a drunk and sullen Dean, it seemed to make a difference.

They came back and Sam was allowed to get up by Bobby. Watching as his brother and the man joked around Sam tried, mostly successfully to squash his feeling of jealousy. If he had problems with his brother, they were of his own making, he knew that.

“The look on your face. . .” Dean laughed.

“What didja expect? The thing darn near crawled up my pants, and after your great aim with Sam here,” Bobby patted Sam on the back, “I thought you were going to shoot me.”

Sam gave, or rather tried to give a smile. Dean wasn’t looking at him, except for a brief glance as Bobby patted him, Sam got nothing. He was acting as if Sam wasn’t even in the room.

Bobby looked between them and Sam realized this was the first time that Bobby had seen the two of them together and awake, since. Well, just since. Bobby’s eyes narrowed. “What’s up with you two?”

Dean shrugged and Sam said nothing he just watched Dean and then pointedly didn’t watch him.

Bobby gave a snort of disbelief and went to fix dinner.

Two days later they were getting ready to leave and Bobby pulled Sam aside. “Don’t know what you been doing. But, whatever it is ain’t working. You keep this up, this non-arguing arguing you both got going on and one or both of you could end up dead. Sam, pull your head out of your ass. Both of you are supposed to be there for each other.” Bobby stopped his speech and looked at Sam. “You gotta be there for one another, however that may be.”

Sam looked sharply at Bobby. Was he saying what Sam thought he was? Bobby just patted Sam on the back and told him to think about it and Sam was never positive.

Dean was driving and Sam settled into the passenger’s side with a sigh. He could feel the wound in his leg pull but the bullet didn’t bother him and Bobby had decided that it was fine.

“Sorry, Sammy.” It was the first words that Dean had said to him since before the hunt. Bobby must have talked with him too.

“’t’s ‘kay. ‘m sorry too.” Sam couldn’t seem to help reverting to a four year old when apologizing to his brother.

Dean had this amazing capacity to just let things go, that Sam had always admired about him. Now, Sam did consider the possibility that Dean let things go because he didn’t remember them, because of drinking, but he knew that wasn’t the case in this instance. Sam watched for a week as Dean tried to be the big brother that he never really had been.

There had been a couple of moments of tension between them. Once when Sam had reached across Dean for something and their eyes had met. It had been Dean to break contact and look away. The second had happened after Dean had had a couple drinks that had lead to a couple more and Sam ended up helping him back to their room. Sam had tripped and pulled Dean down with him. Sam managed to fall so that Dean landed on him and as Sam lay there trying to remember how to breathe, Dean lay on him and looked. Sam had been ready to reach up and pull Dean down to kiss him when Dean had quickly gotten up.

Watching Dean as he self-destructed right in front of him, Sam got to the point where he finally he couldn’t take it any longer. After a long day in the car and several almost touches and glances out of the corner of his eyes, Sam got them a room. Walking purposely into the room, he turned and locked the deadbolt behind him.

Dean held his hand up. “I know, I know. We need to talk.”

Sam was on him, pushing him up against the closest wall. “Later, maybe.” Looking down into Dean’s green eyes, Sam watched as they widened in recognition then as they filled with desire. Leaning his head down Sam kissed his brother.

It was neither gentle nor short. Breaking apart with a gasp, Dean rested his head against the wall as Sam attacked his neck, licking and biting. Sam pulled Dean’s shirt off and was a bit surprised to see no new marks. Running his fingers over the scar that ran across Dean’s chest from the last time he had cut him he was surprised as Dean groaned his name.

They were naked on the bed and Dean was writhing underneath him as he engulfed Dean’s cock in his mouth. “Sammy,” Dean moaned and Sam couldn’t stop his hips from bucking forward at the need in Dean’s voice. “Please.” It seemed to Sam that Dean had spent most of his life asking Sam for things that Sam had told him no. He had finally realized that whether or not it was good for Dean, Sam couldn’t tell him no anymore.

Moving down Sam ran his tongue around Dean’s musky hole. Licking and putting a hand on Dean’s hip as he felt him come off the bed. Sam felt the ring of muscle tighten as he ran his tongue around it. Slowly working his mouth over it, Sam was rewarded as Dean relaxed enough for him to push his tongue in.

Grabbing the lube, he slicked up his cock and after sucking a few times on Dean’s he moved. Sam put his dick at Dean’s entrance and slowly pushed in. Watching his cock disappear into his brother inch by inch no longer felt wrong. Looking into Dean’s eyes as he sank all the way in, Sam realized that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Dean. Even if it meant helping him drink himself to death. Pulling back out he slammed back in and Dean groaned.

“Sammy.”

Sam concentrated on fucking, Dean’s hard cock trapped between them as Sam leaned in to kiss him. He began to lose his rhythm Dean felt so good. “Come for me Dean,” Sam commanded and Dean complied. It wasn’t normal, hell it didn’t even come within close of normal, but it was all Sam had, so he held his brother tight and came with him.

Maybe they would find a way out of this, but probably not. Sam rolled off of his brother and wrapped his arms around him. If they died tomorrow, or next year it didn’t matter to Sam, they were both damned but Sam would try to be there for as long as Dean needed him.

Fic: What Matters Most (7/8)

Sun, 04 May 2008 16:32:19 GMT

What Matters Most a gift for lucilla_darkate
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: What Matters Most (7/8)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 see complete warnings.
Word count: 1750 or so this part
Beta: Lucie actually betaed the first three quarters of this and then real life interfered… go figure. My lovely ~biza then came through and went over the whole thing.
Warnings for this chapter: some spoilers for season one, drinking, bloodplay, incest, oral sex. This was completed last year so it might be rough compared to what you’re used to from me. Also, this isn’t a death fic but neither is it my normal happy ending.
Warnings for whole fic: Spoilers for part of season one, Slash (boy/boy everyone), Cursing, Incest, Bloodplay, Drunkenness, Alcoholism, Rimming, Frottage, Hints of Dom/sub, oh hell I’m sure I missed something. . . just be warned
Notes: See part one for disclaimer, summary and full notes
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

So, Missouri. She knew. From the moment that the door opened, Sam knew she knew. All the things that they had been through and then they just had to run into a psychic. She didn’t talk about it, they discussed their old home and what might be there.

Poltergeist, oh fucking great. Dean had saved Sam from being strangled by that lamp cord and they had finished the cleansing ritual. Missouri had declared the house clean but Sam wasn’t so sure, there was something he felt. Convincing Dean that he just had a ‘feeling’ that everything wasn’t okay had been interesting.

They sat for hours watching the house, when Sam spotted Jenny in the window screaming for help. Just like in his dream. They ran in and got to her and her children, getting them outside Sam and Dean ended up trapped inside.

Their mom’s spirit saved them in the end. She told Dean how much she loved him and then she told Sam, who remembered her only from pictures that she was sorry. Sorry for what? Then she was gone, Sam was holding Dean and they were both just barely holding it together.

Jenny was moving. Dean and Sam got some old pictures and new memories of their mother. They went back to their motel room, got drunk and fucked. Sloppy, messy and desperate, it wasn’t pretty.

Sam had slammed Dean against the door as soon as it was shut. Kissing him, biting and making him bleed. Dean just let him, let him do everything, anything. Sam stopped as Dean told him it was okay over and over and over again.

Pulling back from his brother, he saw the bruised and bloody lips and flinched. Dean pushed past him and went to take a beer out of the fridge. “God, Dean.” Sammy wasn’t sure if he was apologizing or what.

Dean just shook his head and took a long pull on the beer. He pulled another one out and handed it to Sam. Sam stared at it like he wasn’t sure what it was. Dean reached out and twisted the top off and then clinked his bottle against Sam’s. “Mom,” he said.

Looking up at Dean with pain filled eyes, Sam slowly lifted the bottle to his mouth and chugged it down. Tossing the bottle in the general direction of the garbage, Sam went and grabbed another one. He pulled three more out, setting them on the table.

They didn’t talk about this; they didn’t talk about their mom, or dad. Instead Sam brought up Missouri.

“She knew,” Sam assuming Dean knew what he was talking about.

“Mom?”

“No,” Sam shook his head, “Missouri. She knew about us.”

“Well then,” Dean said and took another pull on his bottle, “why didn’t she say something?”

“She did, kinda.” Sam drank down the rest of his beer and opened another one. He just knew what his brother’s next question was going to be, and he wasn’t ready for it.

“What does that mean?”

“I could feel her rifling through my memories, I could almost hear her in my head. It was weird though. It was like she approved, or at least wasn’t appalled by it, by us.” Sam didn’t know how to explain the feeling he had.

“She thought that us fucking was okay?” Dean’s disbelief wasn’t surprising. If Sam hadn’t felt what he felt, he would have never believed it either.

“Seemed to. I think, no, I know she knows something, something that might happen.” Sam took another drink. “Something bad so it doesn’t matter what we do now, ‘cause what’s coming is so damn worse.”

Dean frowned at him and sat down. He seemed more fascinated by Sam’s mouth than by what he was saying.

“Did you hear me?” Sam asked and Dean shook his head. Finishing up his beer, Dean grabbed the next one off the table. Reaching out, Sam ran his fingers gently over Dean’s swollen lips.

Parting them, Dean licked the end of his finger, and whatever he had been thinking about just flew out of his head. He watched as the end of his finger disappeared into Dean’s mouth. Fuck, Dean was. . . Sam lost him for a moment, then realized Dean was kneeling in front of him, hands on his fly and then quicker than Sam could follow, Dean had his cock out. Sam scooted down in the seat so Dean could pull his pants down and then stayed there as Dean slowly engulfed his hard dick. Watching in amazement as he took it all in, it had to be partway down his throat.

Dean backed off and sucked on the head of his cock. “God, Dean,” Sam groaned or moaned or something. “You gotta stop. . .” The head of his cock popped out of Dean’s mouth. Cocking his head and looking up at Sam it was as if he were trying to figure out if Sam was serious.

“Stop?”

“Yeah, I wanna be inside you when I come.”

Dean’s pupils dilated a bit and he gave Sam a secretive smile. Sam narrowed his eyes at his brother as he stood up and reached out to pull Sam up. Somehow they managed to get to the bed, kicking off clothes as they went.

Sam was pushed down on his back and Dean was there, lube in hand. Looking around, Sam wondered where he had got the lube so fast. Bedside table, that’s right. Being brought back from his musings by Dean’s hand wrapping around his cock, slick and cold, Sam wondered what he was planning as he tried to stop his hips from bucking into Dean’s hand. Then Dean was all over him. Kissing and biting the dip of his hip and up his stomach, biting each nipple until they were red and sore and Sam was moaning under him, Dean finally kissed his mouth and Sam wrapped his long fingers around Dean’s head and held him still.

Before he could catch a breath Dean was on top of him, Sam’s hard cock rubbing in the crack of his ass. Dean reached back and held Sam steady as he slowly lowered himself on Sam’s cock. “Dean,” it was halfway between a whine and a growl.

Dean just kept pushing down until Sam’s cock was entirely engulfed by him. Sam reached up and touched the cut on Dean’s stomach. With all his exertions he had broken the cut open and Sam’s fingers came away red.

“Sammy,” Dean groaned, “please.”

Sliding a hand under Dean’s pillow Sam pulled out his knife. “This what you want Dean?” The look that Dean gave the knife and then Sam said yes. Sam slid the flat of the blade across his own chest as Dean continued to fuck himself on Sam’s cock. Once again, like a cat watching a viper, Dean watched the knife. Sam turned it and pressed the tip against his skin.

Making a whining sound at the back of his throat, Dean watched as Sam drew the knife across his chest. He hadn’t been pressing hard enough to bring more than a few drops of blood to the surface. Watching as Dean watched him he pulled it across his chest again with more pressure and Sam felt the burn and then the warmth of his blood. Then Dean leaned down and licked it. Sam bucked up and then dropping the knife he grabbed Dean’s hips, digging his fingers in, leaving bruises on top of bruises, holding his brother still while he fucked him.

Dean had set up a fairly steady keen at this point, and Sam had stopped listening but something caught his attention and he listened to what his brother was saying.

“Sammy oh Sammy yes oh fuck yes, cut me Sammy, make me bleed, make me come, shove that cock in my ass, fuck me Sammy, make me yours, make me bleed, make me come. . .” and Dean just kept saying it, over and over again.

Stilling Dean and then reaching for the knife again had Dean’s breathing increasing. “You gotta hold still Dean, or I might cut too deep.” Sam was practical as ever. Wiping the blade off, Sam flicked it against Dean’s arm, rewarded with a small welling of blood and then it stopped.

Dean groaned and Sam felt the vibrations down to his cock. Sam slid the knife across Dean’s chest again, hardly pressing and just barely bringing up a small thin line of red. Then another one, a bit deeper, this one bled quite nicely. Knowing that he wasn’t going to last that much longer, Sam rubbed his hand on his chest and then on Dean’s getting it wet with blood. Reaching down he wrapped the bloody hand around Dean’s cock and with a short jerk Dean was coming all over Sam’s stomach and chest. After Dean finished, Sam let himself go, fucking up into his brother so hard he thought he might split him in two. Moments later Sam was coming with a groan of Dean’s name.

Sam managed to get up and find a washcloth to clean them up with before he passed out, either from the beer or the sex or both. Waking up, Sam rolled over and saw Dean. Really saw Dean. His body was bruised and as he watched his brother raise his arm to check out a bite mark, Sam saw the deeper of the cuts on his chest start bleeding. Sam didn’t remember biting Dean but everything had been kind of in a haze of lust and drunkenness.

Dean winced as he touched the wound, he had got out the rubbing alcohol and was treating his cuts. Cuts that Sam had made. Wincing along with Dean, Sam wanted to close his eyes, to pretend he hadn’t seen what he had done to his brother, his lover. Dean met his eyes in a mirror and Sam couldn’t handle how empty Dean’s seemed.

Getting out of bed, he slid into his pants and then headed for the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him Sam looked in the mirror and he decided he didn’t much like the person staring back. He shouldn’t be doing this with his brother, to his brother. Repulsed by his enjoyment of hurting Dean, Sam decided it had to end. He just couldn’t do it; he couldn’t live with himself if he kept hurting Dean.

Having come to a decision, Sam felt a kind of peace come over him. He could do this. He could be strong, tell his brother no, keep him safe. Walking out of the bathroom, it felt to Sam that he was a different person. He was going to be the best damn brother he could and that was it and that was all.

Part Eight

now for somthing a little different.

Sat, 03 May 2008 23:03:31 GMT

I posted a Harry/Draco fic on my other journal... if any of my f-list here reads it.

It's called And So It Goes.

Fic: What Matters Most (6/8)

Fri, 02 May 2008 13:23:18 GMT

What Matters Most a gift for lucilla_darkate
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: What Matters Most (6/8)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 see complete warnings.
Word count: 2000 or so this part
Beta: Lucie actually betaed the first three quarters of this and then real life interfered… go figure. My lovely ~biza then came through and went over the whole thing.
Warnings for this chapter: pretty much pwp, incest, rimming, blow jobs, bloodplay, a little Dom/sub, This was completed last year so it might be rough compared to what you’re used to from me. Also, this isn’t a death fic but neither is it my normal happy ending.
Warnings for whole fic: Spoilers for part of season one, Slash (boy/boy everyone, Cursing, Incest, Bloodplay, Drunkenness, Alcoholism, Rimming, Frottage, Hints of Dom/sub, oh hell I’m sure I missed something. . . just be warned
Notes: See part one for disclaimer, summary and full notes
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

He could feel Dean’s breath on his lips and he knew Dean could feel his and he held still, waiting. They sat like that for a moment, like a tableau, frozen in time and space. Then Dean moved just enough that their lips touched and Sam forced himself not to pounce, because that was exactly what he wanted to do.

Dean moved his lips and Sam felt his tongue touch his and he parted them. Then it was as if some floodgate had opened. Sam took charge and, wrapping his hand around the back of Dean’s head and neck, he held him while he kissed him breathless.

Sam wondered if this time, in this place, in the same fucking town that this whole fucked up life of theirs had started, if he was going to get to fuck to Dean. How weird that he didn’t even bat an eyelash at the thought anymore.

Dean was nearly naked and Sam was still dressed. While he was afraid that if he moved Dean would change his mind, he needed to get undressed. Sam broke a kiss and pulled his t-shirt off. Dean attacked him. Biting and licking at Sam's chest and neck, Dean moved over so he was nearly on Sam’s lap.

Sam ran his hands over Dean. Everywhere he could reach. The freedom to touch what he had been wanting for so long nearly had him coming in his pants. So did Dean’s hand when he put it on his cock that was still encased in denim.

“Dean.” His name came out of Sam’s mouth, full of need and wanting.

“Sammy,” Dean’s voice was filled with the same longing. He pulled at the button on Sam’s jeans.

Sam stood and stripped, pushing his briefs down with his jeans. Naked, he stood there for a moment; for forever. Then Dean was on him. His fingers wrapping around Sam’s cock, he moved them slowly, almost reverently he leaned in and took it into his mouth.

Nearly coming just from Dean touching him, Sam had to look away before Dean had his mouth on him, knowing he would have spilled right then. Taking a couple of deep breaths, Sam got his mental fingers somewhat around his control.

Looking down at Dean’s head moving as he sucked him off almost made him lose it again. He ran his fingers through Dean’s short hair his long fingers clenching as Dean licked up the underside of his cock and found that one spot. Now he was panting, he didn’t want to come just yet but Dean had other ideas. As he sucked off Sam he put an arm around him and ran his fingers down Sam’s crack until he touched his asshole. Just the slight brush of Dean’s fingers succeeded in making him come.

“Dean.”

Dean swallowed his come and then grabbing his arm he pulled Sam down for a kiss. Sam then pulled Dean up. “Off,” he tugged at his briefs. Dean complied and Sam smiled. This was going to be good.

Moving so that he was beside Dean, Sam ran his hand up and down Dean’s arm with the cuts. Every time one of his calluses caught on the scab Dean would moan and his cock would twitch. He still had a trouble believing that he had cut Dean and didn’t remember it. Damn it if he cut Dean, he wanted to know how, why. Holding Dean’s arm he didn’t realize how hard he was gripping it until Dean whimpered.

That was a sound that bypassed his brain and went straight to his cock. “Dean.” Sam had something important to ask him.

Dean blinked at him with lust filled eyes.

“Have you done this before?” Sam got a confused look before it cleared.

“Sex? Or sex with my brother?” Dean gave Sam a wicked smile.

“We know you’ve had sex with me,” Sam said with a smirk. “But I’m talking about anal sex.” Dean nodded and Sam couldn’t help but to ask when, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t jealous.

“While you were busy in college.”

“Really? Who?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Sam was willing to drop it. He really didn’t want to know, he just needed to know how slow to take things. But he couldn’t just let Dean get away with saying things like that. “Gentleman?”

Dean looked affronted for a moment. Then he leaned closer and reaching around Sam he pulled him in for a kiss.

Tasting himself on Dean’s lips, in his mouth, knowing that Dean had swallowed his come was making him harder. Hell, those years with Jess and he could count on one hand how many times she had swallowed. Always looking like she had just eaten something out of the toilet, he hadn’t asked her after the first time and every time she did it he felt guilty. Dean, however, looked like he enjoyed it and for some reason it made him feel less of a freak.

Reaching under Dean’s pillow, Sam drew out his knife. Dean’s eyes widened and he watched it as if it were a snake.

“I’m going to fuck you Dean.” Dean’s eyes flickered to Sam and then back to the knife. “While I’m fucking you I’m going to mark you.” Now he had Dean’s full attention. Drawing the knife across his tongue he couldn’t feel the sharp edge cut but he knew from the metallic taste in his mouth that he had.

Dean looked at the knife with Sam’s blood on it and then back to Sam’s mouth, his pupils so dilated that his eyes looked black. Sam swallowed the little bit of blood in his mouth and then licked his lips, if anything Dean’s eyes widened more. He was inching forward, asking with his body if he could kiss Sam.

So, Sam kissed him. Dean’s tongue invaded his mouth almost frantically searching out a taste of Sam’s blood. If Sam didn’t know better he would wonder if Dean had been bitten by a vampire. Sam sat back and looked over his brother for a reconfirmation of that fact.

Dropping the knife and reaching into the bedside table, Sam brought out the lube. His brother said he’d done this. That made Sam a little more relaxed about the whole thing. He’d never been with a virgin and he’d been worried that Dean was one.

Dean was tense as bowstring, however. Sam wasn’t sure if it was the blood, the promised sex, the promised marking or the raging hard on that he was sporting that was the cause, but he decided to see if he could get the man a little more relaxed.

Sam scooted down until he could get between Dean’s legs. With no hesitation he wrapped his fingers around Dean’s cock and slid his mouth down on it. His other hand digging into Dean’s hip so hard he knew he was causing bruises. Moving his hand in time with his mouth took a little bit to coordinate, but once he found the rhythm he didn’t lose it.

Then Sam slid his hand from Dean's hip and around his thigh. Pushing Dean’s leg up, exposing more of him to taste and touch. Dean’s cock came out of his mouth with a pop and Sam moved down, licking and sucking on Dean’s balls, the sweaty salty musky smell was driving him crazy. Then he licked down and around Dean’s hole. Dean wrapped his hand around Sam’s that was still around his cock and squeezed. Apparently he didn’t want to come.

Eyes flicking up to meet Dean’s Sam found he wanted to give Dean whatever he needed. Closing his eyes he tongued his tight hole and then pushed it in.

“Sammmm,” Dean drew out his name and Sam relented. Fumbling, his hand found the lube because Dean handed it to him. Grunting thanks he slicked his fingers up. Sliding his index finger around Dean’s ring of muscle.

“Push,” he ordered Dean and as he obeyed Sam slipped his finger in, stopping at his first knuckle. Dean had other ideas and pressed down, fucking himself on Sam’s finger. “Dean,” Dean's name came out in a breathy moan.

Dean’s eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. Sam slowly drew his finger out pushed it back in, watching as Dean’s hips came up slightly. Making sure it was still wet with the lube Sam put a second finger at Dean’s entrance and didn’t have to tell him to push because the moment he pulled the first out Dean was ready for the second. Two fingers went in a bit slower but as he pulled them out he dragged his fingers across Dean’s prostate.

“Sammy, please, please,” Dean begged, “just fuck me.”

Sam hesitated and Dean pushed down hard on his fingers.

“’T ’s okay, just fuck me, please.” The words were murmured as if Dean didn’t have any strength left.

Sam pulled his fingers out with a pop. Pouring more lube on his hand he slicked his cock up. Dean still had his hand clamped at the base of his cock. “Dean.” Sam got his attention.

“You won’t come until I say so. Move your hand.” Sam knew that the intense feeling from his cock going into Dean’s ass would take away some of his need to come. Dean reluctantly let go, his eyes on Sam who was positioning himself at Dean’s hole. Slowly he began to push in.

It was very intense for Sam. Dean was pushing back which allowed him easier access. “Yeah, that’s what I mean.” Then he was buried balls deep in his brother. It was where he wanted to be for so long he didn’t even know when he started wanting it.

Pulling out he watched Dean’s erect cock bob; the head red and leaking. Grabbing a pillow he shoved it under Dean’s ass then he palmed Dean’s knife as he pushed in again. “Fuck, Dean.”

Dean gave him a small knowing smile then he saw the knife. Sam could feel him clamp down on his cock and he grabbed Dean’s cock and gave it a sharp twist that he knew would hurt. “No coming ‘till I say,” he reminded him when he got a yelp and a look from Dean.

Sam was once again buried to the hilt in his brother but this time Dean’s eyes were almost entirely black, Sam held the knife over his stomach and Dean’s breathing became so rapid that Sam thought for a moment that he might be hyperventilating, “Dean.”

Sam pulled out a little and slammed back into his ass. “Dean!” Finally he got his attention. “You need to calm down, or I stop this. Got it?”

Dean nodded and Sam watched him calm himself down. Probably whatever they did just before a hunt got really interesting. Sam just had to be happy that he wasn’t humming Metallica, he wasn’t sure he could have taken that.

Sam rested the knife on the bed his hand still curled around the hilt, then he leaned over his brother and fucked him. Dean turned his head to try and see the knife and finally Sam gave a little laugh at his antics. Sitting back up he looked at Dean who appeared more in control than he had been.

Holding the knife over Dean’s chest Sam pressed it to his skin, lightly dragging it downward he watched a white line appear and then it filled with red. Dean’s hips twitched and Sam dragged his eyes away from the welling line of red and looked at Dean’s face.

There was a wild look in his eyes and then Sam dropped the knife and running a finger down the line he had cut into his brother he told him to come. Dean’s eyes rolled up into his head and Sam had never before seen anyone come so hard that it hit the wall way behind them. Sam pulled out and pushed back in, once. Then everything he had been holding back just came out. As his come spilled into Dean, words spilled out of his mouth.

“Want this. . .you. . .always have. Need you. . .like breathing. . .don’t leave because of this. . .please. . .love you, so much.”

Sam curled up next to Dean and realized that his brother had passed out when he had come and hadn’t heard a damn thing he said.

****************

Part Seven,

What Matters Most (5/8)

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 14:25:34 GMT

What Matters Most a gift for lucilla_darkate
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: What Matters Most (5/8)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 see complete warnings.
Word count: 2280 or so this part
Beta: Lucie actually betaed three quarters of this and then real life interfered… go figure. My lovely ~biza then came through and went over the whole thing.
Warnings for this chapter: some spoilers for season one, drinking, references to bloodplay, bad use of amnesia. This was completed last year so it might be rough compared to what you’re used to from me. Also, this isn’t a death fic but neither is it my normal happy ending.
Warnings for whole fic: Spoilers for part of season one, Slash (boy/boy everyone, Cursing, Incest, Bloodplay, Drunkenness, Alcoholism, Rimming, Frottage, Hints of Dom/sub, oh hell I’m sure I missed something. . . just be warned
Notes: See part one for disclaimer, summary and full notes
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four,

Somehow they managed to stay conscious enough to stumble over to the bed.

It was raining when Sam woke up. It pounding on the roof wasn’t helping his headache. Rolling over, Sam saw Dean sitting at the table, watching him. When he saw Sam was awake he brought a glass of water over, not saying anything.

Peachy.

Sam remembered everything about last night. Looking down he realized he had came in his pants and not cleaned up or anything. Drinking the water, Sam was thankful. Then his bladder spoke up and he was out of the bed heading for the bathroom quicker than he would have thought possible, considering.

He peeled his pants down with a grimace. What a mess. Pissing helped him feel better. Good enough in fact that he decided to shower. He had just stepped out of his pants when the door opened. Straightening he looked at Dean.

“You ‘kay?”

Sam’s face softened. “Yeah, just need to wash.”

Dean nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.

Standing under the water Sam tried to figure out when his life had became such a tangled mess. How the hell could he be turned on by the thought of his brother writhing beneath him, blood running down his chest where Sam had cut him? Fuck! He was coming just from the thought of it.

Sick. He was sick.

Rinsing the come off of his body and the walls of the shower, Sam turned it off and stepped out. Or tried to. Slipping he grabbed for something, anything. His last thought before he hit the wall was who was going to take care of Dean.
*****************

Waking up with Dean jabbering at him wasn’t new. Dean talking crap about Dad was just fucking unbelievable. Even after all that crap in Nebraska, and the mirrors and Bloody fucking Mary, never had he heard Dean talk bad about their dad.

“Find him and kick his ass,” Dean said just as Sam turned and looked at him. “Hey.”

“Hey. Why aren’t I on the bathroom floor?” and still naked went unspoken. “How long was I out?”

Dean looked at him like he’d lost his mind. Reaching over and grabbing a beer off of the bedside table, he took a drink before he answered him.

“Two days since you hit your head and you’ve been weird.”

He’d been weird? Wait, two days? “Two days?” Then he noticed the room they were in, yet another of a long line of motel rooms, but this one had stained blue carpet and blue paisley bedspreads. The one they’d been in, where he’d hit his head, it had had some kind of beige carpet and horrid orange floral bedspreads.

“Where are we?”

Now Dean looked at Sam with real concern. “What do you remember?”

“I remember falling and hitting my head, I guess.” Sam rubbed the spot where he still felt a knot and winced.

“What about all that crap about leaving hunting?”

Sam looked at Dean in confusion. Now he knew how Dean felt when he blacked out. “What?”

“You said,” Dean raised his eyebrow and nodded his head like he didn’t believe that Sam had said what he had said, “that you wanted to stop looking for Dad and forget about Jess. Andstayherewithme.” He rushed the last part.

“Huh?”

“You said you wanted to stay here with me,” Dean spoke a little slower. Sam stared at Dean. He had said what?

“Oh,” Sam said and watched as a spark of something, hope maybe, died in Dean’s eyes. “Did you want to? Forget about Dad, everything and just be?” Sam asked, confused.

“What? No, no. We need to find Dad.” Dean looked away. “Why don’t you remember? You hadn’t been drinking, ‘cept the night before.”

They weren’t going to talk about the night before, Sam knew, Dean knew and Sam knew Dean knew. Gah, this was making his head hurt. Really. Putting his hand up to his head, he felt for the knot again.

“I was really acting that way? Did I do anything?” When he got a raised eyebrow he tried to elucidate. “Did I hit on you?” It was what he really wanted to know.

“Yeah,” Dean gave him a small grin. “You tried to get me drunk and have your way with me.”

“I did what?” Sam’s voice rose like he was twelve again. He coughed. “I mean, I did what?”

Sitting back Dean crossed his arms, he seemed to be enjoying himself. “You really don’t remember?”

“Duh, would I be asking you if I did?”

“Dunno, maybe.”

“Dude, fucking forget it. I don’t remember it.”

A look of concern flashed across Dean’s face, then it was gone. “Fine, I won’t tell you what you said to me in the bathroom.”

Looking at Dean, Sam narrowed his eyes. “What did I say?”

Dean laughed and waved his hands as if to ward off Sam’s look. “None of that.” He got up and walked to the window, twitching the curtain back a little looked outside.

Sam swung his legs around and got up. He wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but if Dean wasn’t having one over on him, he’d been awake and doing things for the past two days and he didn’t remember any of it. Going to the bathroom and then brushing his teeth, he found that he was staring in the mirror, like he didn’t recognize himself.

He could feel that something had changed between him and Dean, but damned if he knew what. He really wanted his memory back.

Pissing and then heading back into the bedroom, he nearly ran Dean over as he opened the door. “Dude.”

Dean backed off so quickly that he almost fell on his ass.

“Dean, what the fuck?” Sam reached out and grabbed his arm. Dean hissed in pain and Sam pushed the sleeve of his shirt up. Dean had at least two new cuts. Dropping his arm just as Dean pulled back. “Seriously, what the fuck?”

“Don’t like seeing your handiwork?” Dean sneered at him.

Sam backed up at looked at Dean. No, that was his fantasy, he would have never. . .but it seemed he had. Staggering over to the table Sam sat and put his head down. He was closer to passing out than he had ever been before.

In goes the good air, out goes the bad. He didn’t even remember where he had heard the stupid saying, but it helped him not to think. In goes the good air, out goes the bad.

Somehow they got through the night, both of them tiptoeing around all the issues that they had scattered between them like broken glass. The next morning they packed up, didn’t talk about anything but where they should go next. Moving on, they headed out to Oklahoma. The people in that housing development kept thinking that they were a couple and god did Dean have fun with that.

Dean telling him that Dad was proud of him shocked Sam to his core. It was one of those moment in which you can decide to change or just stay the same. For the first time some of his anger at his father bled away. Sam had known that they had been around Stanford that one time but never after that. Managing to protect that family, Larry and Matt, Sam decided that he needed to apologize to Dad.

That night he started having a dream. A woman was standing at a window, screaming. He had the dream the next night and the next night and the next. Finally he started drawing pictures from his dreams, the same dead looking tree. Dean was tossing up new jobs for them to take when flipping back and forth between the pictures he remembered where he had seen it before.

Explaining to Dean that he sometimes had these dreams that came true wasn’t easy; he didn’t take it too well. Probably wanted a drink is what Sam figured getting him a beer.

“We need to go home. To Lawrence.” The look he got was one full of pain.

Somewhere along the line, Sam had decided that Dean was right. The good thing about this job was saving families. He talked Dean into going home and they went.

Sam drove while Dean drank and drank. Pulling into a motel, just off of the turnpike, right outside of town, Sam decided that Dean needed to either be completely shitfaced when they got to town or a bit more of his ‘acting sober’ self. Sam got the key and let Dean in while he got the bags from the backseat.

Walking through the door, Dean surprised Sam. Pushing him against the wall and trying to kiss him. Sam lifted his mouth away from Dean who growled and attacked his neck. Wondering what the hell had gotten into Dean, Sam pushed him back.

“Dean.”

“Sam. Sam. Sam.” Dean said it as though he was pleading for something.

“I didn’t get a room for this.”

“Fine.” The word was angrily said. Dean walked over to get a chair, the only one the cheap assed room had. “Tell me, Einstein, why did you get the room.”

“Look, you’ve been upset ever since we started back to Lawrence. I just thought that you might want to sober up some or just get plowed before we head into town.”

“How can I watch your back if I’m plowed?”

Sam shrugged. “Sober then?”

Dean seemed to consider it. “Like dry out kind of sober?”

“No, your normal ‘act if everything was okay’ sober.”

“If that’s all, sure.” Dean gave him a grin, then it was gone. “I promised I’d never come back.”

“That family is in danger, Dean and we can help.”

“I know, it’s just. . .”

Nodding in understanding, Sam went and sat on the end of the bed, so he wasn’t looming over Dean. Sam had found that he could loom without even trying. “What do you need?” Sam asked Dean who was swaying a bit in his seat.

“Food, a night’s sleep and a beer in the morning.”

Sam nodded, he could do that. “I’ll go and get us some food. What do you want?”

“Chinese sounds good. Or Thai, that would work too.”

“I think there was a Thai place we passed on the way here. I’ll go and grab us some.”

Getting up from the chair, Dean went and lay down on the bed. “Sweet, wake me when you get back.”

Shaking his head at Dean, Sam dug the keys out of his pocket and headed out to find food. Returning with an order of Pad Thai and some Panang curry with Jasmine rice, Sam quietly opened the door. And found Dean crying. What the fuck had happened now? He sat the food on the counter and crouched down in front of Dean who had been so lost in his own world that he hadn’t noticed Sam.

“Sam.” He sat up and wiped his tears away.

“What is it? Did something happen?”

“What? No, no. Nothing happened, I just tried to call Dad again. Why won’t he answer Sam? Does he hate me? Did I fuck up so badly?”

Knowing how important Dad was to Dean, Sam tried to reassure him. Dean insisted he was fine and got up. “What’d ya get?” He opened a bag. “Pad Thai, great.” Taking a bite he asked, “Where’s the beer?”

“Beer in the morning, remember?” Sam had put what they had in the Impala in the fridge to cool.

“Right,” he sighed and Sam watched as he again went into denial mode. Sam wished he knew what to say that would make Dean talk about everything, hell anything would be nice.

Getting out the curry, Sam mixed it with the rice and then got himself a beer, earning a look from Dean. “What?” Dean just shook his head and took another bite of his food.

“So,” Sam said.

“So.”

“Tomorrow, we go home.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean tried to sound offhanded about it but Sam knew he wasn’t.

“So, we should sleep.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean said again and then slumped over to a bed, lay down and within a few moments was sleeping. Sam sat up for a while, watching him. It helped that he didn’t really want to sleep and have more visions or nightmares or both.

Dean started tossing and turning and Sam tried to wake him. “No, Daddy. I don’t wanna leave Sammy. Don’t make me.” What the fuck? Sam paused with his hand over his brother’s shoulder. “Promise, I’ll take care of him. Promise.” The last word was said so loudly that Dean woke himself up. He moved back from Sam’s outstretched hand. “Dude, what are you doing?”

“I was going to wake you up, you were having a nightmare.”

“Whatever.”

“You know, I’m not the one who hits on you all the fucking time.”

Dean looked confused and for a moment Sam almost let it go. However, Sam saw something, a flash of knowledge or memory and he sat on the bed next to Dean. “You sober?” Shrugging, Dean watched Sam.

Deciding that this was as good a moment as any, Sam put his hands on Dean’s shoulders and watching closely for any sign that what he was doing wasn’t welcomed, he slowly leaned in and stopped just before his lips touched Dean’s. He could feel Dean’s breath on his lips and he knew Dean could feel his and he held still, waiting. They sat like that for a moment, like a tableau, frozen in time and space. Then Dean moved just enough that their lips touched and Sam forced himself not to pounce, because that was exactly what he wanted to do.

Part Six,

Fic: Who Knows What The Truth Is

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 14:54:39 GMT

Who Knows What The Truth Is a gift for aislinn_tredor
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: Who Knows What The Truth Is
Pairing: Older Sam/Dean/ Younger Sam, Older Sam/Dean, implied Older Sam/Younger Sam
Rating: NC-17 for real.
Word count: 4,000 of mostly porn but damn plot wouldn’t stay away.
Beta unbetated just wanted to get it posted.
Warnings: Slight spoiler for Mystery Spot but unless you’ve seen it, you’ll miss it I think. Underage, cursing, incest, oral sex, snowballing, dual penetration… I’m sure there is some I am missing. Just be warned.
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to Kripke. Not mine. Okay. I wish.
Summary: Dean nearly hits someone on the road. Porn happens, along with plot.
Notes: Vee or aislinn_tredor prompted me with - Can I has Dean completely and utterly shellshocked, having naughty, dirty, FILTHY thoughts about ginormous baby brother? Older Sam/Dean first time p0rn optional:) Not exactly what you wanted I think but still there is porn.

Dean rounded the corner in the Impala, he was heading home after a long damn day of nothing. Dad was off, again. Leaving Dean in charge but Dean had got a call from Jack, apparently he had called Dad and Dad had directed him to Dean. Jack had a spirit problem. Easy-peasy salt and burn, or at least it should have been. Searching and searching into the history of the building, hell the area had got him exactly nothing.

Now he was going home after a long day spent searching at the library. Running a little late, he was still hoping to get home before Sam. He was watching the road curve in front of him, the place Dad had found for them was well off the beaten path. Sam was pissed ‘cause he had to walk the half a mile to the end of the driveway every morning to catch the bus but Dean liked it.

The woods were close so he could go and practice shooting without any nosy neighbors calling the cops. He and Sam could spar in the front yard, shirtless and not be bothered with people watching. Turning off the road onto the gravel drive, he gunned it, listening to the Impala roar underneath him.

Then someone came stumbling out of the woods on the side of the drive. Dean stomped on the breaks and the Impala slid sideways before Dean could get her stopped. The guy had collapsed, Dean could see where the car had just missed hitting him and he winced as he got up to the guy. He was wearing a grey wife-beater and blue jeans and his arms and his back were all scratched up.

What the hell was someone doing in these woods? Dean crouched down next to the guy, his disheveled hair was covering part of his face but from what Dean could see he looked kind of familiar. “Dude,” Dean reached out and touched his shoulder and the guy moaned.

Fuck, what was he supposed to do? Dad wouldn’t like it if he took someone back to their place but he couldn’t see just dropping this guy off at the end of the road either. Dean let his eyes roam across the wide expanse of back and down to a very cute ass, the guy stirred and tried to push himself up.

Dean almost gasped out his brother’s name. This guy, he resembled Sam in a creepy way. It was like Sam only older and, he paused again to run his eyes down the body in front of him again, much more filled out.

“What?” the guy said and put his hand to his head where Dean could see a huge knot forming. “Dean?” The man said his name like a prayer and Dean scooted back a bit.

Standing up, Dean took a step back. This was too weird. Looking at where the Impala sat, her door ajar just waiting for him to get in and leave this guy here he considered doing just that.

The guy looked up at Dean from where he was kneeling beside the road. “Dean?” he asked again, disbelief in his voice, and Dean again considered booking for the car. Then the guy went down, his hands clutched to his head. “Oh fuck, not now. Not now.”

“Dude, do you need to go to the doctor?” Dean asked still feeling skittish, half wanting to run and check on Sammy and for some reason wanting to stay and make sure this guy was okay.

“Dean, I need to get to the house.”

Slowly Dean backed to the car, keeping his eyes on the guy the whole time. “Who are you?”

“Sam,” the guy said and then he collapsed back into a heap at the side of the road. Dean groaned. He couldn’t just leave him here. Dean got in the car and backed her up so that she was next to the guy. Helping the guy into the back seat wasn’t easy. He was taller than Dean and outweighed him by quite a bit. There was something familiar about the way he smelled, Dean thought as he got him into the car.

Getting in Dean drove slowly up to the house, his brain going at supersonic speed. There was no way this guy was Sam, his Sam because his Sam was fifteen and all elbows and knees. His hair was cut short and his face was softer. It was almost like this was an older version of his baby brother. How was that possible?

Dean pulled up and Sam, his Sam came tumbling out of the house.

“I was just going to go see what was going on. I heard you heading up here, then you. . .” Sammy shut up as he saw Dean helping someone out of the car. “Who the fuck?”

Dean knew the moment Sam got a good look at the guy. “Dean?” he sounded scared. “He looks like. . .”

“I know, Sam. Just help me get him inside.” Dean nearly sighed with relief as Sam took some of the stranger’s weight. They got him in and onto the overstuffed plaid couch that came with this place.

“Dean?” Sam, his Sam said quietly after they got the other guy settled. “What?”

Dean stalked to the kitchen, Sam following. “I don’t know, Sam. He stumbled out of the woods and I almost hit him. Something happened to him before because he came out looking like that,” Dean waved his hand towards the other room.

Sam sat down at the kitchen table. “But how?”

Dean shrugged and got a washcloth. The guy, whoever he was, needed to be cleaned up. No one would have septic wounds while he was around. “Get some ice for his head, and some aspirin,” he directed Sam and headed back in the other room to deal with their ‘guest’ while Sam was busy.

Setting a pot of warm water on the floor Dean dipped the washcloth and began to clean the guys back. Dean just couldn’t think of him as Sam because then he’d have to deal with the fact that he was sporting a hard on for his baby brother. God, but this guy’s arms were massive. The wounds seemed to just be where he could see. He had looked under the wife-beater and his back was clean, though there was a large scar, that if Dean judged correctly was a knife wound. That must have almost killed him.

Something twisted inside Dean at the thought of Sam getting hurt like that and Dean stood up. “Dean?” the guy murmured again. “Is it really you?” It sounded like the guy was going to cry, he turned his head and looked right at Dean. “It’s not fair,” he said.

“What isn’t?” Dean asked and looked towards the kitchen where he could hear Sam.

“You’re. . .” he said and then stopped and shook his head murmuring something that Dean didn’t catch.

Dean felt like he was in the Twilight Zone. Then Sam came out of the kitchen and the two of them stared at each other. It was like some weird dream. Sam ignored Dean and walked over to the guy on the couch.

“Yeah,” the guy said.

“What?” Sam asked.

“You were going to ask me if I was really you and yeah I am.”

Sam shot a look at Dean that said the guy was right. Sitting up, the guy, Sam if his Sam was to be believed, held his hand to his head. Sammy held the ice pack out to Sam. Sam took it and held it to his head. “No, I’m not some shape changer or mind reader, either. I know because I remember. I remember being you.”

Their hazel eyes met and held. Dean stood still; almost afraid to breathe the tension in the room had just gone up exponentially. Sam nodded at Sammy and Dean watched with surprise as Sam, his Sam moved in closer, much closer. If Dean didn’t know better he would have thought that they were going to kiss.

Then Sammy dropped to his knees between the other Sam’s legs, and Dean most definitely did not squeak. He gasped, yeah gasped that was it. Dean’s mouth hung open as they slowly moved toward one another. This was the hottest thing he had ever seen.

Watching as they communicated without words; a raised eyebrow here, a small shrug there and then they were kissing. Dean had to grab his cock through his jeans because he had just about come. Fuck.

Then Sam whispered something to Sammy and they both turned identical hazel eyes on him. Dean wasn’t sure he liked the look in either one of their eyes.

“Maybe,” he said roughly and then cleared his throat. “Maybe I should call Dad.” The sadness that filled Sam’s eyes had Dean stepping closer, this was Sam and he was hurt. “What?”

Shaking his head Sam just looked down. “No Dad.”

“How did you get here?” Dean asked.

“I’m sure that damn Trickster is laughing his ass off. Ha, fucking ha!” Sam said and Sammy who was still between Sam’s legs put his hand up to Sam’s face.

“You remember this,” Sammy, his Sam said to the other one. The other one nodded his longer hair falling into his face in a way that made Dean’s hands itch to brush it out of the way. “Bad things happen and you can’t tell us,” Sammy said and Dean looked up at the other Sam. He hadn’t thought about that. Sam nodded. Dean’s Sam continued, “Because if you do, it could make everything worse.” They shared another one of those looks that had Dean wondering if they had some kind of telepathy.

“Dean,” Sam said and he looked at Dean like he was a fillet mignon. “Shouldn’t you clean the rest of these?” He motioned to his arms and Dean could see a line of clean skin and then dirty where he hadn’t been able to get to.

Dean slowly moved closer, this was just too fucking weird. One Sam was bad enough, what was he going to do with two. Dean’s fingers clenched around the washcloth and he didn’t ask Sam why he couldn’t do it himself. Gently he washed Sam’s arms, working around Sammy who was still between Sam’s legs. Trying unsuccessfully not to think about Sammy being cock high as he moved around behind him, he was surprised when a hand slid over his denim clad hard on.

He could see both of Sam’s hands, that left. . .and his brain just sort of shut down.

“You broke him,” Sam said to Sammy.

“Help me,” Sammy said and fumbled with Dean’s button fly.

“Amateur,” Sam said and Dean felt a larger hand over his buttons and he put his hand down and looked down at both of them. God it was like every fantasy he didn’t know he wanted.

“You sure?” Dean asked Sammy. Talk about fucked up asking his fifteen year old brother if he wanted to have sex with him and, Dean’s eyes flicked up to Sam, an older version of yourself. Does it count as masturbation? Dean wondered before Sammy stood up, right in front of Dean. He still wasn’t as tall as Dean but he was getting there.

Sammy reached up and wrapped his fingers around the back of Dean’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Lips moved gently against one another and Dean automatically opened his mouth and pressed his tongue against Sam’s lips. Sliding inside his mouth Dean tasted Sammy.

“I’ve wanted to do that forever,” Sam, his Sam murmured against his lips and Dean groaned. His pants were shoved down to the floor along with his underwear and Dean’s cock was enveloped in a hot mouth. Both he and Sammy glanced down to watch as Sam sucked Dean’s cock down to the base.

Dean’s hips shot forward and despite his best efforts to stop it, he came, pumping his come into Sam’s mouth. Sammy made a whining noise and Sam tugged on him then they were both on their knees in front of Dean and he felt blood rushing back into his cock. Dean watched as they snowballed his come back and forth between them then Sam was tugging on Dean’s shirt. Sliding down Sam carefully kissed him, almost reverently and Dean found some of his come still on Sam’s tongue.

“Naked, now,” Sam directed them and the tone had Dean complying without thinking. He stopped with his shirt off and pants still around his ankles, trying to kick a shoe off. Sharing a sheepish grin with Sammy who was nearly in the same position, he finished stripping. Looking at Sam Dean felt his cock jump. The guy was huge, not just his cock, though that was impressive too, but just massive in a non-looming kind of way. Dean glanced to see if his Sam was as well endowed as Sam and was pleased to see that he was.

Sam got Dean’s lube from under the couch and sitting down he motioned Dean to come to him. “Sit here.” Sam arraigned Dean’s legs so they were over his. Dean moved closer to Sam so that their cocks could touch, he just barely stopped himself from rutting against Sam.

Sharing a look with Sammy over Dean’s shoulder Sam held the lube out to him. Then Dean felt something cold and wet pushing against his hole. “Sammy,” he said his brother’s name as Sam slid a finger inside him. Dean could picture the look of concentration that he was sure was on Sammy’s face as he moved first one, then two, then three in and out of Dean. When Dean was rocking back on his hand and asking for more Sammy pressed something larger at Dean’s asshole.

“Fuck,” Dean exhaled and Sam pulled him down for a kiss. Both of their cocks were hard and leaking pre-come and Dean felt the hot fluid smear across his stomach. He ran his fingers down Sam’s large chest and flat abs and then he hissed. Sammy was pressing his fingers inside with his cock, stretching his ass wider and it was only then that Dean realized what they wanted to do.

Sammy worked him for a while, both his cock and his fingers inside of Dean. The two Sam’s exchanged another of those looks and then Sammy slid out of him. “Dean, we are going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week. You want that?”

All Dean could do is nod and Sam lifted him up and with Dean’s thighs over his arms he lowered Dean on his cock that Sammy was holding still for him. Dean had been wrong, Sam was bigger than Sammy.

Feeling Sammy kissing up the back of his neck Dean groaned as Sammy licked at the shell of his ear. “Ready, Dean?” Sammy whispered and he managed to gasp out a yes as Sam slid down a little to give Sammy more access.

Then Sammy was pressing in and Dean gasped as his head slipped inside. Dean wanted to move but he was so overwhelmed with everything he found he couldn’t. Sam fucked into him from below while Sammy pushed in from the top and all Dean could do was feel.

“Mine,” Sam said and Dean opened his eyes to look at the older version of his younger brother.

“Mine,” Sammy said as he thrust into Dean and Dean nodded yes to the both of them. Sammy’s thrust got erratic and then he stilled. When he did, Sam thrust up into Dean. Sammy slipped out and moved to sit beside Sam as Sam finished fucking Dean. Sam pushed Dean back, had him sit up, to give Sammy access to him.

Sammy slid his mouth around Dean’s cock and Dean couldn’t take it anymore he came so hard that his vision darkened for a moment.

“You with us, Dean?” Sam said and Dean gave him a half grin.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Good.”

They got dressed and while Dean was sore he was enjoying it. He had been halfway expecting things to be awkward. After all he had just had sex with his brother (brothers? he thought)for the first time, but they weren’t. Dean felt oddly comfortable around both Sam’s and they all had dinner.

Sammy and Sam did the dishes together and Dean sat at the kitchen table, cup of coffee in his hand watching them. It was very interesting watching the two of them communicate. That’s what they did, communicate. They didn’t talk. Half phrases, looks, and touches seem to be enough.

“I’ll be gone tomorrow,” Sam said loud enough for Dean to hear and Dean strained to hear Sam’s response but he couldn’t. “No, before school is out.” Then he glanced at Dean and murmured something to Sammy about later that night.

Sam grabbed a cup of coffee and sat next to Dean. “Pretty weird, huh?”

Dean considered the question. “Probably the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Not only you,” Sam said.

“But,” Dean motioned to where Sammy was drying the dishes, “you’ve done this before.”

“Yes and no. I only saw it from his point of view, not the one I have now.” Sam slid his hand across the table and ran his fingers across the back of Dean’s hand where it rested on his cup. Dean had been thinking a lot about Sam’s reaction to him and he could only come to one conclusion.

Later that night after Sam and Sammy had had some alone time before Sammy went to bed. Sam sat next to Dean on the couch and he asked the question that had been floating in his brain.

“Was it a good one?”

“What?” Sam asked.

“My death, was it good? Did I go down fighting?” Dean put his hand on Sam’s arm as he tried to stand up. “I’m not asking for details. But I can tell.”

Sam’s eyes filled with tears. “Yeah, you went down fighting.”

“Good,” Dean said and moved to straddle Sam.

“Dean,” Sam said his name full of longing and Dean leaned in and kissed Sam’s tears away, the salty bitterness harsh on his tongue.

“I’m here, Sammy.” Dean wrapped his arms around Sam in a warm hug. “Hey, I’ve got a question.”

Sam leaned back and looked into Dean’s eyes.

“Do we keep doing this?”

Sam nodded, his throat moving and Dean could tell he was holding back a sob. Dean gave him a big grin and said, “That’s good then.”

Sam just nodded again and Dean leaned in and kissed him slowly. He wanted, he needed to make Sam feel better. Dean nuzzled at Sam’s neck and Sam’s head tilted back giving Dean more access. Dean started to suck on Sam’s neck and he moaned.

“Mark me, Dean.”

Dean got it. When Sam went back to wherever, whenever he came from he would going back to a place where Dean is dead and if he could have marks from Dean it would be like he was alive again. “Are you sure?”

Sam nodded and Dean ran his hands though Sam’s long, messy hair, like he had wanted to earlier. Then he knotted his fingers in the strands and jerked his head sideways and Dean bit the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Dean avoided the scratches but he methodically worked on Sam. Biting and sucking, Dean raised purple hickies all up and down Sam neck. Dean moved so he had access to Sam’s chest and he bit Sam over and over, never hard enough to make him bleed but enough to raise a series of welts across his chest and Dean knew from experience that they would bruise nicely in a couple of days.

Dean rubbed Sam’s erection through his pants and he dropped to his knees and baring his prize, he sucked it down. Licking around the head and lapping up Sam’s pre-come, Dean moved to deep throat Sam who made a surprised noise. Dean popped off of Sam’s cock and looked at him in question.

“When?” Sam didn’t seem to be able to form a complete sentence.

“When did I learn how to give a blow job?” Dean asked and Sam nodded. “Never kiss and tell,” Dean smiled at Sam. He wasn’t about to tell Sam about the many times he had to blow someone in a back alley just so that they had money for food or clothes or school supplies. “Or blow and tell in this case.” Sammy was still his little brother, it didn’t matter if he was older than Dean or not.

“Now did you want some more, or are we going to talk this thing to death?” Dean wrapped his hand around Sam’s erection and Sam made an approving noise and Dean leaned back in. Sam dug his fingers into the couch cushions as Dean sucked him down again. Dean pried one of Sam’s hands off and placed it on his head. When Sam moaned and his fingers slid though Dean’s short hair, he knew he had guessed right.

“Dean,” Sam gave a throaty moan and Dean decided he was going to love it when his Sam’s voice deepened. “Fuck me, please Dean.”

Dean stilled and let Sam’s cock fall out of his mouth. “Huh?”

“Your cock in my ass.”

Dean didn’t think Sam needed to be sarcastic. He looked around and Sam slapped the lube into his hand. Pouring the lube into one hand he ran his fingers through the slick mess. Pressing one finger in, then two, Dean was soon fucking Sam with four of his fingers inside him.

“Damn it Dean, just fuck me,” Sam said and Dean moved to place his cock at Sam’s hole. Dean knew that Sam wasn’t a virgin but damn it must have been a long time as tight as he was.

Pushing in slowly, trying to savor every moment Sam surprised him by wrapping his legs around Dean and pulling him in so hard his balls slapped against Sam. “Fuck me, Dean. Just. . .” Sam pleaded and Dean couldn’t tell him no.

Moving back out he slammed back in, again and again. “S..S..Sam,” Dean’s voice stuttered out Sam’s name.

“Come Dean, I’ve got you,” Sam said quietly and Dean pushed all the way in and came, the warmth of the come surrounding his dick. Sliding out of Sam, Dean collapsed on top of him.

“How much time?” Dean finally asked.

“I’m not sure, but I’ll be here in the morning, so why don’t you sleep.”

Dean let Sam pull a blanket over the both of them. “Love you, Sammy,” Dean murmured as he drifted off to sleep.

“I love you Dean. More than anything, remember that.”

Dean nodded and fell into a comfortable sleep with his head against Sam’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Waking up in the morning alone, Dean got up and padded into the kitchen where he found a note on the table.

Dean, Sam,

I’m sorry I lied. I am weak and I knew I would spill out all the things I shouldn’t tell you. Never forget to love one another and Dean. . . I’m sorry. Just, I’m sorry, okay?

Sam

Dean sat and looked at the table he didn’t even notice when Sammy came in and picked the note up. Dropping it, Sam moved over to Dean, looming above him. When Dean didn’t look up Sam dropped to his knees and looked up into Dean’s face.

Running his hand up and across Dean’s face, Sam finally got Dean to respond. “He’s so lonely. That’s you,” Dean’s breath stuttered. “You are going to be that lonely.”

“But that’s not me now. Dean, me and him talked, a lot actually, considering and he might be lonely but he’s hopeful. He has lots of good memories. Memories that we get to make.” Sam leaned in and kissed Dean, coaxing him to respond.

Dean processed what Sam had said and slid his hands though Sam’s messy hair. He kissed him like he was never going to let him go. If Dean had his way, he never would until death pulled him away from Sam. Dean hoped that Sam had been telling him the truth but even if he wasn’t, Dean had Sam now. Who knew what the truth really was.

What Matters Most (4/8)

Mon, 28 Apr 2008 15:37:47 GMT

What Matters Most a gift for lucilla_darkate
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: What Matters Most (4/8)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 see complete warnings.
Word count: 1800 or so this part
Beta: Lucie actually betaed three quarters of this and then real life interfered… go figure. My lovely ~biza then came through and went over the whole thing.
Warnings for this chapter: some spoilers for season one, drinking, bloodplay, masturbation, and frottage. This was completed last year so it might be rough compared to what you’re used to from me. Also, this isn’t a death fic but neither is it my normal happy ending.
Warnings for whole fic: Spoilers for part of season one, Slash (boy/boy everyone, Cursing, Incest, Bloodplay, Drunkenness, Alcoholism, Rimming, Frottage, Hints of Dom/sub, oh hell I’m sure I missed something. . . just be warned
Notes: See part one for disclaimer, summary and full notes
Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Then it was done and Sam helped him out and dried him off. Getting Dean into some clothes was impossible so Sam just put him to bed and went back to his laptop, a worried frown on his face.

The more he read, the more scared he became. Hallucinations, tremors, death, fucking death, Sam shook his head. He needed to get Dean to the hospital.

He bundled his brother in the cheap motel bedspread, grabbed his duffel, and picked him up. Driving to the nearest hospital, St. Joseph’s or something. Sam took Dean to the emergency room. Getting Dean admitted was no problem, they could see he wasn’t responsive. Then, however Sam met the attending physician.

“Drinker, huh?”

Sam rolled his eyes, he hated when people asked him stupid questions.

“Can you help him?”

Sam got a fake smile, and an of course. The minute he left, Sam raided every drawer and cupboard. Putting in all in his messenger bag, he slipped out of the room and saw that someone having a heart attack had come in and everyone was distracted. Grabbing a couple of IV bags and accessories, Sam went back and got Dean.

They managed to get out the door without being spotted or at least stopped and Sam drove them back to the motel. Be damned if he was going to leave Dean’s life in the hands of someone who didn’t care if he lived or died and that was exactly the feeling he had got from that doctor.

Flipping open the laptop Sam took a few moments to hack into the hospital’s computer. First thing he did was delete all mention of their visit. Next he went to research what he could do for Dean. This place didn’t have anything. Covering his tracks, he made it look like the attending physician was the one doing the checking and he got out of their system.

Looking at Dean laying on the bed, shaking, motivated him to find something. Dean needed to be hydrated, that mean IV. Sam took a calming breath. He had helped Dad do this before. He could do this.

Dean was hallucinating and crying. Sam wasn’t positive about what Dean was seeing but he kept calling Sam’s name and Sam was terrified. He had known for a while that he might lose Dean because of alcohol, he hadn’t known he might lose him because of the lack of it.

“I’m here Dean.” Sam tried to comfort him as he laid out all of the stuff for the IV.

Wiping the back of Dean’s hand with an alcohol wipe, Sam got out the syringe and got the IV started. He was very careful because he knew that if he screwed this up he could kill Dean. Embolisms were never a good thing, Sam knew.

Sam relaxed a little as the fluid began to drip. Setting up a makeshift stand on the headboard, Sam made sure that the solution was still flowing. He left it for the moment and picked up his laptop. There was an easy way to fix this problem, but he needed to wait until the morning. Damn fucking state anyway.

Dean’s color got better and Sam watched. He had a couple of mini seizures and Sam held him still. Damn that doctor.

Early the next day, Sam was at the store buying beer. Getting back, he opened one and waved it under Dean’s nose.

His eyes popped open and if everything hadn’t been so serious Sam would have laughed. Dean looked at the beer, like a starving man at a crust of bread and in a way it was like that. From what Sam had read, every cell in Dean’s body was used to a certain level of alcohol and with it gone, every cell had started dying.

Dean reached for the beer and then noticed the IV in his arm. He just stared at it for a moment.

“Hold on,” Sam said grabbing a gauze pad and some tape, Sam removed the IV line and held pressure on the spot for a couple of minutes. Handing Dean the bottle of beer while they waited, Dean wouldn’t quite meet his eye.

“Sorry,” Sam said and Dean looked up at him incredulously. “Look, I didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m sorry.”

Dean seemed to think about it for a moment and then he took a drink of his beer. “Don’t let it happen again.”

Good, he was sounding coherent again. Sam smiled and checked under the gauze. Putting on a bandage, he let his fingers trail across the bruise that was already forming under it. Dean watched him and drank his beer.

When that one was gone, Sam got him another. Rationalizing that Dean needed this, needed him, made him feel better. He ignored the reason that Dean needed him so badly right now was his fault entirely.

By that evening Dean seemed ready to leave and Sam talked him into one more night. Leaving in the early morning light, Sam drove the Impala and headed for Colorado.

What a mess that was. Fucking Windego. Fucking girl. Fucking dad, running off, leaving them with that mess. Sam just wanted it over, wanted to find dad, wanted everything to be okay, like it never was. If he couldn’t have normal with Jess then at least he would get the thing that killed her. Dean said that it helped him, helping other families because theirs was all shot to hell. He could understand that sentiment.

When he smiled at Sam with his little smile and told him that his anger was going to eat him up, he thought it funny, kind of. That was rich coming from a man whose survival lay in a bottle.

They moved on, Dean started getting drunk again. Started hitting on Sam again too. Sam didn’t know what was worse, Dean bringing someone to fuck or Dean wanting to fuck him. All of the back and forth, hot-cold shit was beginning to drive him mad.

Then Sam saw something that made him re-think everything.

Walking in on your brother jacking off is not something that Sam would recommend to anyone. But that wasn’t all. Sam opened the door to the motel room where they were staying. “Dean, they didn’t have. . .” his voice trailed off. Dean was there. Sitting up on his bed naked, with his knife in his hand. What the hell was going on? Was Dean performing some ritual?

Watching as his brother slid the knife down his arm, pressing yet not breaking the skin. As sharp as Dean kept all of the knives, Sam had to admit he was impressed with Dean’s control. Dean’s cock twitched as he slid the knife down again. Sam almost hissed in sympathy as the knife bit into Dean’s flesh.

Dean watched the blood running down his arm for a moment, before bringing his arm up to his face. He licked it. It was the most erotic thing Sam had ever seen. Reaching down he adjusted his suddenly very hard cock.

Then Dean held his hand over his cock and let the blood drip on it. Drip. Drip. Sam wondered what in the hell he was doing.

Reaching down Dean wrapped his bloody fingers around his bloody dick and started to jerk off. Sam shoved his hand down his pants and jacked off with him. Watching Dean come was more interesting to Sam than coming himself, he discovered.

Dean was mumbling something. “Isn’t that right, Sam?” came out clear enough. Then he turned and looked at him, his bloody hand still wrapped around his cock and a grin on his face.

Sam turned and ran.

Yeah, so Sam decided to deal with knowing that his brother liked to jack off using his own blood as lubricant, the only way he knew. Ignore, ignore, ignore, oh and get Dean drunk.

This time, however, Dean refused to drink. Dean refused to drink. Unless, unless Sam did, too.

Pouring shots for both of them Sam sat at the table. Dean sauntered over and sat pulling the chair around backwards.

Throwing his drink back, Dean then slammed the glass down on the table, all the while watching Sam. Sam who was taking a sip of his until he saw Dean’s eyes on him, he tossed his drink down his throat. He choked a little as it burned its way down. Dean just cocked an eyebrow at him and poured them both another drink. Sam watched the arm that Dean had cut earlier. Dean noticed.

“Wanna see? You want to see just how fucked up your brother is?” He slammed back his shot and poured another one.

Shaking his head, Sam tossed back his drink and managed not to sputter that time. “You’re not fucked up.” The enormity of the lie had Dean staring at him openmouthed.

“No more than me anyway.” Sam concluded.

Dean unbuttoned his shirt and slid the black cotton off of his shoulders, letting it drop on the floor. He just stood there in his wife-beater, waiting for a response it seemed. Sam looked up at his brother with lust in his eyes. His eyes flittered over the long slice on Dean’s left arm and he could feel himself getting hard again. Shaking his head again he poured them both another shot. At the rate he was going to be drunk in no time.

“Sam.” Dean’s voice had an undercurrent that Sam hadn’t heard before. Meeting his brother’s gaze again Sam almost flinched at the despair he saw. Standing and swaying a little he moved across the room to his brother.

“Dean,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss him. He would take his pain away, make it better.

Shoving Dean against the wall, Sam raised the arm with the cut and did what he wanted to do earlier. He licked it. Dean’s movements had opened it and pearls of blood were beading upon his skin. Dean moaned and closed his eyes.

“Is this what you want, Dean?” Sam said and tightened his grip where his fingers wrapped around the cut, squeezing out some more blood. Dean’s hips shot forward and pressed against Sam’s.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

While Sam had been gone he had been busy. Thank god for libraries and the internet. He had done research on ‘blood play’ and ‘blood sports’. Also he dug around until, through some odd links, he ended up on a cutting site. Sam was sure that Dean wasn’t a cutter, not like they described. His was more like the blood play, sexually excited by the endorphins that were released when he was cut.

Maybe Dean was just into pain, maybe he wasn’t. Sam knew he was into this though and he leaned in and licked the blood that was running down Dean’s arm. Perhaps, when he was sober if Dean wanted him to, he would cut his brother. Oh, fuck the thought of it had him hard and leaking.

He lifted his bloody lips and kissed Dean. Pushing his brother up against the wall again Sam pushed his hips against Dean’s. Fuck, he was too tall and drunk enough not to care. He pulled his brother up until one of his legs was wrapped around the back of his thigh. There. They just fit. Erections brushing through their pants.

It would be so much better if they were naked but fuck it felt good. Dean came first and Sam couldn’t hold back after that friction and the sounds Dean was making drove him over the edge.

Somehow they managed to stay conscious enough to stumble over to the bed.

Part Five

What Matters Most 3/8

Sat, 26 Apr 2008 18:20:38 GMT

What Matters Most a gift for lucilla_darkate
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: What Matters Most (3/8)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 see complete warnings.
Word count: 1500 or so this part
Beta: Lucie actually betaed three quarters of this and then real life interfered… go figure. My lovely ~biza then came through and went over the whole thing.
Warnings for this chapter: some spoilers for season one, drinking, cursing, sadly no porn. This was completed last year so it might be rough compared to what you’re used to from me. Also, this isn’t a death fic but neither is it my normal happy ending.
Warnings for whole fic: Spoilers for part of season one, Slash (boy/boy everyone, Cursing, Incest, Bloodplay, Drunkenness, Alcoholism, Rimming, Frottage, Hints of Dom/sub, oh hell I’m sure I missed something. . . just be warned
Notes: See part one for disclaimer, summary and full notes

Part One, Part Two,
For three years, two months and five days, Sam had ‘normal’. He had a beautiful girlfriend, Jess, which could be turning into something permanent. He was looking at law schools, getting all of the pieces together so that he could apply in January. He had just passed his LSATs with more than enough margin that he would get accepted to any one he wanted to apply to.

Waking up to a noise, Sam realized that someone had broken into their apartment. Slipping down the stairs, Sam managed to surprise the intruder. After a fight like he hadn’t had since he left Dad and Dean, he was subdued by the intruder.

It was Dean.

Once, a couple of years before, Dean and Dad had been in the area and Dean had showed up at one his economics class. Sam recalls that they had been discussing the pros and cons of supply side economics. He couldn’t remember anything else about supply side economics, but he remembered his meeting with Dean.

“Dean.” Sam looked at him, his eyes drinking him in. He had lived most of his life seeing this man everyday and he missed him. It was as though there was a big hole in his heart, it was that kind of missing him.

“Sam.” Dean sounded tired.

“Is it Dad?”

“No, no nothing like that. It’s just that I…,” Dean seemed to steel himself for something. “Iwantyoutocomeback.”

Sam stared. What the fuck was Dean playing at? He just couldn’t figure it out.

Apparently Dean took his lack of response as a no. Saying fuck it, he turned and started to walk away.

“Wait.”

Dean stopped and didn’t quite look at Sam, staring at some spot over his shoulder.

“Why?” he asked when he really wanted to ask if Dean had been drinking again.

“S’not the same.”

“What not having someone to pick up after you?”

“No.” Dean paused. “No, that’s not it.”

“Well, what is it?” Sam was trying to keep his patience.

“Need you to watch my back.”

Sam stared at Dean with his mouth open. Then he snapped it shut, with a click that echoed in the hall they were in. “What? Why?”

“Dad’s good but when he’s involved with what he does, he can’t, he doesn’t. . .,” Dean still appeared to be unable to criticize Dad.

“What happened?” Sam asked just as the hall began to fill as classes let out. Dean looked a little overwhelmed. Sam led him to a small alcove. “I need to get my books, wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Rushing to his class, Sam grabbed his bag and shoved his books in with his laptop. He was stopped by the teacher and told of an assignment. Sam nodded barely hearing him.

Excusing himself, he made a beeline back for the alcove. Dean was gone, he had left a note.

Sam,

Sorry, Dad called. I’ll see you soon.

D.W.

That was it. He hadn’t seen Dean in two years. Now here he was pinning him to the floor of his own apartment.

They did a lovely little verbal dance around each other. Each one not saying what the other means. Dad had disappeared and Dean wanted Sam to help him find him.

Sam had told him no. It was hard, this was Dean. But Sam had Jess and he had normal and he wanted to keep it. Sam knew that Dean still had the power to break his heart. That no matter how much he denied it, suppressed it, tried to forget it, Dean had been his first in so many ways.

Dean had played a voice mail that had convinced him to spend the weekend looking for Dad. Either they found him or they didn’t but he was done. Slipping back into old habits, Dean drove and Sam annoyed him. Fuck but Sam was angry at Dean. Dad, too, but mostly Dean.

“Two years.”

“What?” Dean asked turning down the stereo, how he listened to Zeppelin wasn’t conducive to talking.

“You said you’d be back.”

“When?” Dean sounded truly confused.

“Two years ago, you showed up and dragged me out of class, asked me to come back with you. . .ring any bells?”

“I did what?”

Sam slipped his wallet out of his pocket. Showing Dean the often folded note, Sam wondered if Dean was going to ask why he had kept a note for two years.

“Sam. . .”

Oh fuck, here if comes again. Damn it.

“I don’t remember. I mean that’s my handwriting, but I. . .”

“Forget it, Dean. You’d probably been drinking.”

Dean looked like someone had kicked his puppy. They dropped it, figured out what was going on with the haunting in Jericho. Dean got arrested and Sam helped him escape, just like he used to before, before he left. God how fucked up was his childhood that he had known just how to distract the cops so Dean could escape.

After taking care of the spirit, Dean had been excited. Figuring out a note that Dad had left him, he wanted to go straight to Colorado to find him. Sam pointed out he had said the weekend. He wanted to go home. So, Dean took him home.

Then Jess had been killed the same way that Sam had been told that his mom had. Now he had a reason to leave and none to stay, not really. His best chance at normal had died with her belly slit, pinned to their ceiling. To this day, Sam isn’t sure if he loved Jess or just what she offered him. It didn’t matter, he had gotten her killed.

Sam left with Dean. Dean the annoying. Dean the beautiful. Dean his brother.

Dean drank often and a lot. Sam spent more time driving than Dean did. But, since Sam wasn’t in the hurry that Dean was, he took his time. Dean seemed to be over his whatever it was for Sam and Sam wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not.

Having stocked up on booze in Nevada, Sam drove through Utah. Sam confronted Dean about all his drinking about half way across, when they had stopped for the night.

Dean took every bottle and poured them down the drain, muttering about how he wasn’t addicted to anything, damnit and on and on. After it was gone, it seemed to hit him what he had done. Dumped out his alcohol in a state where it was hard to buy a beer let alone something harder.

“You aren’t an alcoholic?” Sam asked as he saw the panic rising in Dean’s face.

“No,” Dean put on his game face. “I’m fine.”

Sam snorted. Dean was a long way from fine. “Whatever.”

The next morning Dean hadn’t slept and was looking sick.

“I . . .” He raised a shaky hand to his face. “Sammy, I’m sorry. . .”

Concerned Sam went over to him. Placing his hand on Dean’s face. “Oh, god. You’re burning up.”

“Dust, no, just, need a drink.” Dean slurred the words as if he were already drunk. “Sssssammy, need it like ‘m need you.”

Sam was really worried now. Dean never talked about needing him. Not sober anyway. “Just a sec, Dean.” Sam’s voice was calm.

Flipping open the laptop Sam typed in symptoms of alcohol withdrawal. The results had him looking at Dean with worry. Sam obviously hadn’t known what could happen, if he had he wouldn’t have asked Dean to stop. . .or whatever.

“’M hot Sam.”

“Let’s get you into a shower.” Hyperthermia was a symptom of withdrawal. They had dealt with heat stroke before. Getting them both naked, Sam hissed as he touched Dean. Fuck he was hot. Turning on the shower, Sam maneuvered them both in. The cool water seemed to revive Dean a bit and he pushed off of Sam.

“Nugendt,” Dean mumbled.

“What?”

“Naged, need a drink, Sammy,” Dean said.

“Naked?” Sam guessed and Dean nodded. “And you’re thirsty?” Again a nod.

“You okay for a sec?” Sam made sure Dean was leaning against a wall. At his brother’s nod, Sam quickly got out and got Dean a cup of cold water. Knowing that Dean was probably dehydrated, Sam was happy that he wanted something to drink.

Stepping back into the shower, Sam noticed Dean listing to the right, but he hadn’t fallen. Sam pushed the glass into Dean’s hand and he tossed it back like it was a shot of tequila.

He promptly puked. Retching first he gave Sam enough warning to get out of the way. Dean ended up on his hands and knees trying to put his stomach on the shower floor. All the time, water beat down on him. Sam crouched next to him, rubbing his back.

Then it was done and Sam helped him out and dried him off. Getting Dean into some clothes was impossible so Sam just put him to bed and went back to his laptop, a worried frown on his face.

The more he read, the more scared he became. Hallucinations, tremors, death, fucking death, Sam shook his head. He needed to get Dean to the hospital.

Part Four

Fic: What Matters Most (2/8)

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 16:05:20 GMT

What Matters Most a gift for lucilla_darkate
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: What Matters Most (2/8)
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 see complete warnings.
Word count: 1650 or this part
Beta: Lucie actually betaed three quarters of this and then real life interfered… go figure. My lovely ~biza then came through and went over the whole thing.
Warnings for this chapter: drinking, cursing, oral sex, incest, slash, underage. This was completed last year so it might be rough compared to what you’re used to from me. Also, this isn’t a death fic but neither is it my normal happy ending.
Warnings for whole fic: Spoilers for part of Season One, Slash (boy/boy everyone, Cursing, Incest, Bloodplay, Drunkenness, Alcoholism, Rimming, Frottage, Hints of Dom/sub, oh hell I’m sure I missed something. . . just be warned
Notes: See part one for disclaimer, summary and full notes

Part One

Coming home drunk, Dean was trying to be quiet. Sam knew this because Dean was making a god awful racket and then telling himself to be quiet.

Lying on his bed, Sam wondered what Dean would do this time. Go to bed or come into his room. The dark shadow filling his doorway was his answer.

Dean just stood there dripping on his floor. He didn’t come in and he didn’t say anything. Finally, Sam turned and looked at him. “Are you coming in or what?”

Entering the room, Dean crossed through the blue light of the moon shining through his window. He was crying, Sam was pretty sure, judging by the look on his face more than the tracks of water down it. Dean stood beside his bed and seemed to be trying to get himself under control. “Sa-a-m-m-m-y,” Dean’s voice hitched through his name and Sam gave up. He wasn’t going to fight this anymore.

“Come here.”

Dean went to get in his bed, still soaking wet. “No, Dean. Strip. You are not getting my bed all wet.”

Giving Sam a deer in the headlights look, Dean nevertheless tried to get his clothes off. He couldn’t manage the shirt let alone his pants. Seeing Dean getting his arms tangled in it and then starting to struggle, Sam got up and helped him.

“Shhh, here.” Sam calmed Dean and then got him untangled. Sam ran his hands down Dean’s smooth sides unsure of whose breath hitched. Unbuttoning the jeans, Sam slid his hands down underneath them and grabbed Dean’s ass, for which he was rewarded with a moan.

Finishing getting Dean undressed would have been funny if the whole situation didn’t feel so desperate. As soon as Sam got the last of Dean’s soaked clothes off of him, Dean started shivering.

Getting Dean into bed, Sam slid in beside him and pulled him close. It took a while but the shivering subsided, then it was as if he had broken his brother, but not in the way he wanted. Dean cried.

Sam brushed his hand over Dean’s head.

“Sorry, so fucking sorry. You should hate me. I hate me.” On and on Dean mumbled through his tears.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Should. I hit you.”

“I deserved it. Come here,” Sam said as he pulled Dean up so that they were face to face. Running his fingers over Dean’s cheek, Sam leaned over and licked a tear off of his chin, just before it dropped. Dean’s breath caught and Sam could smell the alcohol.

“Sammy.”

“Shh, let me take care of you.” Sammy stilled any protest by kissing him. The thought flickered through his head that he was glad Dean hadn’t puked and then all coherent thought left.

Tongues tangled and teeth hit. It wasn’t how Sam had wanted Dean to come to him, but he couldn’t stand to see him hurting like this. “DeanDeanDean,” he chanted as he ran his large hands over his brother. Noticing Dean’s breath growing more and more ragged, Sam pulled back.

“You, ‘kay?”

Dean was flushed, taking in oxygen like he hadn’t had any in a year. He was hyperventilating. Fuck. Sam got up and found an empty fast food bag in the garbage. Shaking it out to make sure it was truly empty, Sam ran back to his bedroom, trying not to slip on the wet trail that Dean had left on the floor when he had come in.

“Here.” Sam thrust the bag at Dean, who was sitting on the edge of the bed trying to catch his breath.

Dean looked stupidly at the bag and then up at Sam.

Motioning for Dean to put the bag up to his face and breathe into it, Sam started babbling. Telling Dean about how hyperventilating raised the level of oxygen in the blood and any other details that popped into his head.

Breathing into the paper bag, Dean calmed some. Enough to say something into his bag.

“What?”

Taking the bag out of his mouth, Dean told him he was a geek.

Sam nodded. He was studying to take his SAT’s and he hadn’t mentioned it to Dean or Dad, knowing it would be a waste of time to try to explain that he wanted something other than this life.

Dean let the bag fall to the floor. Beaming up at Sam, he slid back into bed and patted beside him.

Rolling his eyes, Sam stepped over to his bed but was stopped before he could get in. Stopped by Dean’s hand on his dick. Oh holy fuck. Quicker than Sam had thought possible, Dean had his pajama bottoms around his ankles and had his mouth on Sam’s cock.

Sam gasped. He might have said something but he had no clue what. His entire attention was on his cock and what Dean was doing to it. Dean’s mouth, his tongue, his fingers. Sam groaned. Holy fucking Mary Jesus Jones, he was going to come. Trying to pull back, he was stopped by Dean’s arm wrapping around his thigh, fingers brushing against his balls. Dean was sucking harder and Sam couldn’t stop his hips from shooting forward.

Coming from his first ever blow job was the best orgasm he’d ever had. The fact that his brother was giving it to him made it kind of weird but it was still the best.

Dean backed off and Sam slumped to the bed, pajama pants still around his ankles. Kicking them off, he crawled in and lay next to Dean. He couldn’t miss Dean’s erection pressed into his hip. Maneuvering until he had more access to Dean, Sam started kissing him. Kissing all of those spots that he had mapped out in his mind whenever he got a good look at his brother, he worked his way down Dean’s body.

He had a scar on his neck, not from hunting but from flipping a knife to show off for some girl, drunk. Sam licked then bit it and Dean moaned and arched up against him. Smiling, Sam continued. There was a cluster of freckles on his chest that Sam stared at every chance he could. Sam moved his lips down to it. While he kissed the freckles he couldn’t help but notice Dean’s nipples.

Sucking on his nipples had Dean mumbling incoherently. Then Sam moved his hand down to wrap around Dean’s cock, smiling as it twitched in his hand. Sam bit down and was surprised when Dean came. Hot come spurting over his hand and both their bellies.

Dean passed out and Sam cleaned them both up. He sat up for a while, trying to decide what to do. Finally he shrugged and climbed back into bed with Dean; it was his bed after all. Having cooled off considerably while he had been sitting, he was surprised when Dean immediately wrapped himself around Sam. Arm over his chest, leg over one of his, Sam was cocooned in Dean’s warmth. Soon he fell asleep.

Waking up, Sam found himself alone. Wondering what Dean was up to, Sam got up, threw on some clothes, and went to look for him. He was sitting at the kitchen table, his eyes red from crying. Sam walked up and touched his face, wiping a tear off with his thumb before Dean jerked backwards.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t touch me.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s wrong, that’s why. What happened last night?” Dean sounded like he was accusing Sam of something.

Not fucking again. Sam sighed; he had known it was a bad idea. “What do you remember?”

“I remember you prancing around here like a fucking whore.”

Sam rubbed his jaw and Dean looked apologetic for a moment.

“I . . . I hit you and left.”

Sam nodded. “And then. . .?”

Dean looked at Sam with something akin to panic in his eyes. “I . . . I don’t . . . remember.”

Sam took a deep breath in. Damn.

“Sammy, tell me what I did.”

“Nothing, Dean, nothing happened.” Sam could do this, for Dean.

“Why?” Dean visibly swallowed. “Why were we naked? I thought I had . . . ra--”

Sam cut him off. “No. You were soaked and we couldn’t get you warm. Remember Dad’s lessons on hypothermia? Best way to warm your core up . . .” He let his voice trail off as relief visibly flowed over his brother.

Dean grinned at him and his heart broke a little. “Yeah, that’s right. Sorry ‘bout that, bro.”

“No problem.” He was going to get his applications in to college as soon as he could; there was no way he could live like this anymore.

So, Sam got a full ride to Stanford and took it. Dad was mad, but Dean seemed more relieved than anything. Of course he played it up around Dad that he was upset that Sam was ‘abandoning’ them. Later, however, he cornered Sam outside, this time sober, and told him he was proud and happy that Sam was leaving.

‘Proud and happy’ wasn’t exactly what Dean was feeling and Sam knew it. ‘Disappointed and mostly relieved’ was more like it.

Sam packed his bags, didn’t kiss his brother and left with his father telling him to never come back.

Two nights later, after arriving at Stanford, Sam called Dean.

“Dude.” Dean’s voice sounded rough.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, what do you want?”

“You drunk?”

“Why? Do you fucking care? Oh wait, that’s right, you left because you don’t. Fuck off, College Boy!” Dean hung up on him.

Sam stared in disbelief at the phone in his hand. Then he got angry. He was going to make a new life here. One without hunting, or brothers kissing, or constantly moving. Normal, that’s what he wanted. If there was a God, just please let him have normal.

Part Three

Fic: What Matters Most (1/8)

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 17:45:53 GMT

What Matters Most a gift for lucilla_darkate
Author: chaosrosa aka gestaltrose
Title: What Matters Most
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17 see complete warnings.
Word count: 2000 or so this part
Beta Lucie actually betaed three quarters of this and then real life interfered… go figure. My lovely ~biza then came through and went over the whole thing.
Warnings for this chapter: Cursing, Slash (boy/boy everyone), Mild Incest. This was completed last year so it might be rough compared to what you’re used to from me. Also, this isn’t a death fic but neither is it my normal happy ending.
Warnings for whole fic: Spoilers for part of Season One, Slash (boy/boy everyone), Cursing, Incest, Bloodplay, Drunkenness, Alcoholism, Rimming, Frottage, Hints of Dom/sub, oh hell I’m sure I missed something. . . just be warned
Disclaimer: Sam and Dean belong to Kripke. I so didn’t get them for my birthday.
Summary: Lucie asked for Bottom!Dean and she wanted alcoholic!Dean and enabler!Sam. This is what resulted.
Notes: Way back in September of 2007, lucilla_darkate and I had a conversation in which we discussed the lack of Sam/John fics and how she wanted a good bottom!Dean fic. I offered her my poor skills and she got a story. Sorry I was so slow about posting this babe.

Sam was thirteen the first time he saw Dean get drunk. Laughing with him and at him had been a blast. Then Dean had tried to kiss him. Sam hadn’t kissed anyone yet and here was his brother, trying to push his tongue in his mouth.

“Get off.” Sam shoved Dean but he wasn’t showing the height or the muscles that, in a few years, he would grow into. Consequently, Dean barely moved.

“Sam. Sam. Sammy. Sam. Sam. Why are you so pretty, Sammy?”

Pushing against his brother, Sam said, “Dean, don’t.”

Losing his equilibrium, Dean fell back on his ass. It seemed to shock him because he suddenly stated babbling. “So sorry, Sammy. So sorry.” He began to cry and Sam looked around. The house Dean had dragged him to was in the middle of nowhere and he didn’t see anyone he recognized.

“Shhh, Dean.” Sam helped him to his feet and then managed to get him outside. All the time Dean was mumbling apologies. “Stop.” Sam felt infinitely patient with his drunken brother, or at least he thought so.

Getting outside just in time for Dean to puke all over someone’s nice flowers, Sam held onto him the entire time. If this was what alcohol was about, he could leave it alone.

Sam managed to get the keys and drove carefully home. Dad was gone, off hunting something, and he had left Dean in charge, which had been all well and good as long as they stayed at home.

Dean had been invited to a party, his first party, he had told Sam. He wasn’t going to miss it just because he was babysitting. Sam had told Dean to leave him at home, but Dean was convinced he would tell Dad so he had taken Sam with him.

Pulling into the driveway, Sam parked the car. Helping Dean into the house would prove interesting.

“Did you know you have pretty eyes, Sammy?”

Sam grunted; he really didn’t want to talk to Dean when he was in this kind of mood. Sighing with relief as they reached the door, he took out the keys and slid them into the lock. Hearing the click, Sam pushed the door open. “Are you done puking? ‘Cause if you’re not, you can stay out here for a while. I don’t want to explain to Dad why the house smells like puke.”

Dean looked up at Sam with a goofy grin on his face. “Been dreaming about you, Sammy. Is this another dream?”

“No, damnit, Dean, it’s not! Fuck this. Bed, you are going to bed, now.” Sam pulled Dean up from the porch step he had sunk down on. Half dragging, half carrying Dean, Sam got the two of them in the house. Thank god this one only had stairs on the porch. He made his way through the living room, making a detour away from the couch where Dean insisted that he could sleep.

Finally he pushed Dean down on his bed. “Don’t say another damn word, Dean. Go to sleep.” Sam was willing to bet that he had been almost dead to the world before Sam closed the door behind him and went to get a glass of water.

Now what the fuck was he supposed to do? Sitting at the kitchen table, Sam stared off into space, thinking. Dean kissed him. Dean kissed him. Dean kissed him. No matter how he said it to himself, it just didn’t sound right. Dean dreamed about him. Those kind of dreams, the ones where you wake up with your briefs soaked in come.

Sam felt perverted. Just thinking about Dean coming because he had been dreaming about Sam was making him hard.

Fuck this. Dean had been so drunk he probably wouldn’t remember what he had done, much less said.

Sam was right. The next morning Dean woke up with a killer headache and no memory of anything past arriving at the party.

The second time Sam saw Dean get drunk was two years later. Dean had dropped out of the last high school they had been in because he was failing anyway. Dad just accepted it and started taking Dean on hunts with him, leaving Sam alone. Dean had made his first kill and Dad bought the both of them a bottle of Jack. It was supposed to be for one congratulatory drink for Dean and the rest for Dad but Sam watched as Dean matched Dad drink for drink until the bottle was empty.

Dad had been proud of Dean and to this day Sam isn’t sure if he was proud because Dean killed something or proud because Dean could keep up with him drinking. Sam had watched, picking up after the two of them trashed the house. Really, neither one of them should ever drink anything remotely alcoholic. Sam sighed as he swept the floor.

Later, after Dad and Dean were both in bed, Sam went and got the mop. At fifteen he wondered if he was ever going to get out of here, get away from this dysfunction that was his family. Having contemplated running away before, Sam realized that he couldn’t leave, not while Dean still needed him. Looking around the room, Sam knew he was needed, if only to pick up their mess.

Heading back to his bedroom, he had to pass Dean’s room. Dean, who was awake. Dean, who was awake and standing at his door. Remembering what had happened the last time Dean had been drunk, Sam stayed as far from him as he could.

“Sammy.”

“Go to sleep.”

“It was horrible. Sam, it screamed when I killed it. Like a kid, like you.”

“I’m not a kid.”

Dean didn’t seem to hear him. “That’s why I drank tonight. I thought I could stop hearing you scream. Sammy, why were you screaming?”

Knowing that Dean wouldn’t admit to something like this when he was sober, Sam took a calming breath. “I haven’t been screaming. You went hunting with Dad, remember? I was in school.”

“It was like I killed you. I was scared ‘til I saw you. I didn’t believe it, not really.” Dean walked up to Sam.

Now that Sam had hit puberty, he was almost as tall as his brother. Looking in Dean’s eyes, Sam tried to slide down the hall. Dean put his hand on the wall, stopping him.

Dean leaned in and Sam would have backed up if he could. As it was, Sam’s head hit the wall and Dean licked his neck.

He licked his neck!

Desperately ignoring the flare of desire in his stomach, Sam tried to push Dean away. Dean started protesting, loudly. If Sam didn’t shut him up, he was going to wake up Dad and Sam certainly didn’t want to answer questions that he didn’t even want thought about, let alone asked. Sam grabbed Dean’s head and brought their lips together.

Remarkably, Dean shut up. Sam had kissed a couple of girls since the last time Dean kissed him. He kind of had a clue what to do this time, moving his lips and turning his head so that their noses didn’t get all mushed up. Then Dean was kissing him back and pushing him against the wall. He could feel Dean’s hard on pressed up against him. Hoping that Dean wouldn’t find out that he was hard too, Sam shifted and Dean added more pressure.

“Oh god, oh Sammy,” Dean murmured against him, his voice full of need.

“Damnit, Dean. Not like this, not with you drunk.”

“Fine.” Dean pushed off the wall behind Sam, turned and wobbled his way into his room.

The next morning both Dean and Dad had pretty good hangovers. It was Saturday so Sam puttered around the house, finishing cleaning and picking things up. Getting apologies from both of them, Sam shrugged. Being upset wouldn’t change anything.

Dean, once again, seemed to have no memory of what had happened. In his bedroom Sam adjusted himself for the tenth time in the past few minutes. Knowing that Dean wanted him gave Sam this unbelievable feeling of power, power over Dean. It felt good.

After that, Sam often saw Dean drinking, but he rarely got drunk when he was home. It seemed that he had picked up on how uncomfortable Sam was about him drinking. But it didn’t stop him from picking on Sam when he wouldn’t touch alcohol. He had called Sam all kinds of names. Pansy was the least of it, all because Sam wouldn’t drink.

It took all of Sam’s self-control not to tell Dean that he knew his dirty little secret. The asshole. What Sam did do was a subtle attack on Dean, to see if he would admit to his feelings while sober.

Letting a towel slip here, the shirt ride up there. Nothing too obvious, certainly nothing that Dad would pick up on. Hearing Dean’s breath catch let Sam know he had won another round. He always acted like he didn’t have a clue what he was doing to his brother.

It was almost a year and a half later, they had moved four times and finally Dad had left them alone again, having something to hunt that Sam and Dean couldn’t help him with. Sam had been pushing Dean harder than ever. Twice in the past year Dean had gotten drunk and hit on him. Making out with him, Sam never let it go any farther. No matter how Dean pushed or begged, Sam wanted him sober and told him each time.

Dean broke down the second day. Sam had a tank top on that had fit him last year, now it was too small and pulled up so that his stomach was showing. Wearing some shorts that he had laid in the tub with them on, gotten soaked and then let them dry, they couldn’t have been more form fitting.

It had been Sam adjusting his cock that finally made Dean snap.

“Stop that and go change.”

Sam gave Dean his best innocent look, which even he had to admit was pretty good.

“Don’t give me that look, damnit. Go fucking change.”

“Make me.”

“Sammy, you don’t want to start this.”

“What if I do?” Sam walked over to where Dean was sitting.

Dean apparently couldn’t take staring at Sam’s dick, that was clearly outlined in the shorts, because he stood quickly enough. “You’re dressed like a whore. Go and fucking change.”

“How would you know what a whore looks like? Especially male ones?”

Dean blushed. He fucking blushed.

“You haven’t?”

“Of course not.” Dean was vehement in his denial.

Yeah right.

“I’ve just seen ‘em when I’ve been out with Dad.”

Sam just nodded.

“So go fucking change.”

Sam closed the distance between them so that he was looking down on Dean. So close he could smell him. While Sam hadn’t grown into his height yet, still all elbows and knees, he was taller than Dean now and he used it to his advantage.

“Why don’t you tell me what you really want me to do?” Sam looked down at him, wondering if this time Dean would tell him while he was sober.

Dean hit Sam, right across the jaw. Sam went down and Dean ran. It was the first time Dean had ever hit him. Running his fingers over the knot that was forming along his jaw, Sam tried to think of what to do next but came to no conclusions.

He had been lying on his bed for hours. It had started raining and he had stopped thinking and just listened to the rain beat on the roof. Not, most definitely not, worried about Dean out in the rain. Hearing him come in was a bit of a relief.

Coming home drunk, Dean was trying to be quiet. Sam knew this because Dean was making a god awful racket and then telling himself to be quiet.

Lying on his bed, Sam wondered what Dean would do this time. Go to bed or come into his room. The dark shadow filling his doorway was his answer.

Part Two

Part Two,

Reguarding Fic Writing

Thu, 17 Apr 2008 05:33:08 GMT

Okay for me writing is not simple or easy. It takes all of my concentration and if the muse is with me, well I had damn well humor her. I just finished a fic that I wrote in the past two weeks 27k of words. However, in order to do that I limit distractions, which to me and my muse (mostly it's her) means no LJ.

Seriously I cannot even log in... it makes me sad that in order to write I miss out on great fics and on my friend's lives. I stand in awe of people who can read and write and comment. Figuring out what makes my muse happy took me a while but I did and that is isolation. Most of my writing is done at night after everyone is in bed. I could ask you all how you do it. If you can read while you are writing. And don't get me started on WIP's I have trouble sending anything to a beta until the entire story is written. Just ask my poor betas.

If you can write and post WIP I stand in awe of you, too. I don't have the fortitude to do a WIP, comments or the lack of them would have me questioning my plot... my story line.... probably my writing abilities. Part of my problem, I am sure, is that I don't do an outline, I just start writing. The plot can change from what I thought it would be, the breadth of the story can change and then I need to go back and fix things... kind of hard to do if you've posted. I've had characters die that I didn't want them too. One time I even went back and re-wrote part of a story to try and keep a character alive and she still ended up dead.

I have had characters take over my stories, get inside my head and say things like "I wouldn't do that." *sighs* So whether I write the stories or the characters do thought me the whole thing can change. For example, in my latest story there was a character that I was sure was going to die before the end of the story, my muse wanted this person to die but I didn't so we worked around it until (in my opinion) I talked her out of killing them.

Reading is my first love and writing has started late but is catching up quickly. I like to think that I come up with original story-lines that others like to read, but I'm not sure. Mostly I write stories that I want to read, it makes me happy when I finish one.

Let me know what you do to write, do you have music or do you need kids yelling in the background? Do you write everyday or do you have trouble fitting the time in?

First post!

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 22:47:17 GMT

Place holder for something really deep I'm sure.

Chaos : 1. a state of extreme confusion and disorder

2. the formless and disordered state of matter before the creation of the cosmos

3. (Greek mythology) the most ancient of gods; the personification of the infinity of
space preceding creation of the universe

4. (physics) a dynamical system that is extremely sensitive to its initial conditions

Rosa : large genus of erect or climbing prickly shrubs including roses

a confusion of roses.... a formless void of roses.... a disordered state of roses.....the ancient god of roses.... a system that had the initial condition of roses...

You can pick one if you'd like. :)