SPN Fic: Heart's Desire II 4a/4
Jun. 2nd, 2006 08:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveTitle: Heart's Desire II: Follow The Light, It's Not In Vain
Sequel to: Heart's Desire I: Times Two
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: Wolfling (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wolfling) and James (zortified)
Pairing: Sam/Dean (Wincest)
Rating: nc-17
Word Count 24,361 (story total)
Warnings: none
Spoilers: vague ones for Devil's Trap and Asylum
Summary: What do you do when what you want, is what you have?
Author's Notes: Many thanks to wesleysgirl for the beta. This part four! Final part Yay!
If you'd like to start at the beginning here on LJ, go to part 1a.
If you'd like to read the whole thing in a single file, you may find the story here on Gila's Cave: Heart's Desire II
This part is continued from part 3b
part 4a
It was a little less than an hour later when Sam got back and by then Dean had stopped glancing at the door every couple of minutes -- he was down to doing it every five.
Sam came in during one of the minutes when Dean was pretending not to be waiting so he missed the sight of his brother struggling to get the door open while loaded down with a number of what looked like heavy bags, but he did catch the sight of him staggering in towards the kitchen to put them down.
"Did you know this TV gets 412 stations?" he called out. Dean levered himself off the couch, and headed for the kitchen.
"Wow." Sam had dumped the bags on the counter and turned to look at Dean. Dean saw his eyes widen a little and dart down at his body before returning to his face. "You're not dressed."
Dean looked down at himself. The towel around his waist went practically to the floor, and the one around his shoulders was only hanging open in the front. He shrugged with his left shoulder. Then he looked past Sam to the bags. "Did you get any painkillers?" He grabbed one and dragged it across the counter towards him, to look.
In it there were assorted munchies and a smaller plastic bag, which on closer inspection turned out to contain a couple of steaks.
"Yeah." Sam dug into another bag and pulled out a box of extra strength ibuprofen and handed it over. "Is your shoulder really bad?"
"You got steaks?" Dean grabbed them, and pulled them out. Good sized ones, and his mouth was already watering. "Huh? Oh... it's not too bad. I just... won't say no to some pharmaceutical intervention. Since I couldn't find any beer." He took the ibuprofen from Sam and tore the box open, unscrewed the thankfully not child-proof cap, and shook out a few pills.
"Someone was dropping hints about wanting a steak dinner." Sam grinned and dug out a can of soda and handed it over for Dean to take the pills with.
"Someone was dropping hints about not actually providing a steak dinner." Dean took the can, tossed the pills back and swallowed. Then he opened the can and took a drink. "Seriously, dude, 412 channels. I need a TV in the shower and I could be set for life."
"A man of simple desires," Sam teased. He went back to unloading the groceries and Dean saw an inordinately large amount of food make its way from the bags into cupboards and the fridge.
"Um...Sam, did you have one of dad's credit cards?" He was pretty sure he didn't; Sam didn't look old enough to get away with not showing a form of ID, and they didn't have any for him that matched any names for the cards they'd got.
"There was this complete asshole at the store. More than half drunk. He pushed his way in front of this little old lady, yelled at the cashier and then drove off in this huge penis substitute-I-mean-hummer." Sam cleared his throat and coughed. "But not before I lifted his wallet."
Dean stared at his brother, shocked. Then he burst out laughing. "Sammy! Sammy... you lifted his wallet?" He clapped his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm so proud!" He grinned, wide as he could, then touched his fingertip to his eye. "I could cry."
Sam looked a little uncomfortable under the praise, but there was also a shy pleasure showing in his eyes. He shrugged. "He deserved it. He was a total jerk."
"I didn't know you could still lift a wallet -- didn't you stop that when you were thirteen?" Dean kept grinning.
Another shrug and Sam turned back to his unpacking. "Doesn't seem that big a deal anymore."
"Especially if it means we eat steak!" Dean picked up the meat and took it to the fridge. He took another swig of soda, and realised he hadn't seen any beer. Good as the ibuprofen was, it took awhile to kick in -- and beer kicked in immediately. "Did you get my apple pie?"
Busy putting more munchies in a cupboard, Sam just shot him the finger.
Dean just took another swallow of the soda, then realised he'd finished it. Well, it wasn't like he'd expected any pie -- he hadn't been expecting steaks, either, so he told himself to shut up and be grateful.
"You wanna see if we can find a game or something on TV?" he asked, in a neutral tone that hid his disappointment.
"Sure." Sam stood and gestured at the remaining bag. "I picked up Chinese for tonight. Figured we could cook the steaks tomorrow." He went about grabbing utensils and a couple more sodas. "What does one watch when one has 412 channels?"
Dean coughed. "I have no fucking clue. I couldn't figure out how to use the remote."
Sam stopped what he was doing and just stared at him.
He shrugged, trying for nonchalance and pretty sure he was failing. "I think it was Korean."
Now Sam was frowning slightly. "If you couldn't change the channel, how do you know there's 412 of them?"
"I don't, I just know there was a lot of them, but I couldn't actually get to any of them." Dean picked up the bag of Chinese take-out Sam had left on the counter and headed back towards the living room. Hopefully Sam had remembered to get two boxes of rice -- he didn't want to share, but of course he would if Sam had forgot.
"Maybe there's 412 channels in Korean," Sam suggested helpfully, following with the utensils and sodas.
"That'll be nice," Dean said, sarcastically. "I was hoping to brush up on my hwa'tu." He made his way to the coffee table, and sat down, setting the bag on top of the table. Sitting between it and the couch, Dean could lean back and watch the TV comfortably while eating. There was either a new program on, or the original cast had been killed and replaced by a pair of horses.
Sam put his stuff on the table next to the bag and settled on the couch. "Let me take a look at the remote; maybe I'll have a vision on how to make it work."
"Knock yourself out." Dean waved his hand towards the couch where he'd dropped the remote in frustration an hour ago. Opening the take-out bag, he saw the universal red and white boxes, and pulled one out at random. Rice. He set it to one side and tried again. Chow mien. "Oh god, this is disgusting," he said, holding it away from himself and towards Sam.
Sam chuckled and took the box from him, stretching forward to pick up a fork. In his other hand he had the remote and was studying it intently.
"Is it speaking to you, O Stupendous Swami?"
He wasn't exactly sure what the gesture Sam made with his fork in response meant, but it looked pretty damn rude.
"You know, I'm starting to pick up a little Korean. We could leave it on this station." Dean focused on the screen as he pulled out another box. "I think this horse is saying he needs to catch a magic frog in order to build a new skyscraper." He glanced down and smiled when he saw a second box of rice. Grabbing a fork, he took a huge bite, not really caring what else Sam had got.
"Your brain scares me sometimes. I think I might have figured it out." Sam held the remote out towards the TV and hit a button; on the screen the horses disappeared to be replaced by a menu of a whole lot of channels.
"Dude! How'd you do that?" Not that he really cared, as long as Sam didn't make them watch the congressional channel.
Sam grinned. "You got the charms, I got the brains." The cursor on the screen began flipping through the choices as Sam held a button down.
Dean flipped him off, but left him to it. He grabbed another box from the bag and opened it. Slices of beef and onions. He poked a bit and found absolutely no other vegetables to speak of.
He smiled.
Sam finally settled on a baseball game. "This okay?"
He glanced up. "That's great." He took a bite of his food -- his absolute favorite, but you almost never found it on the menu without some green or orange vegetable in it. Then he looked more carefully at the screen. "Are those Korean names on the jerseys?" He glared at Sam.
"Japanese, I think." Sam settled back on the couch, swinging his feet up and leaning back against the arm rest.
"Oh, that's all right, then." He hesitated, then, quietly, he managed, "Thanks."
Sam shrugged. "I'm sure you would've figured it out yourself eventually. You're good with your hands."
"I meant...." He gestured with the carton of food. "And the steaks."
"It's no big deal." Sam took a big bite of his chow mien and had to swallow before continuing. "You said you wanted them, and I was able to get them so..."
"Yeah." No big deal. Dean leaned back again, picking up the rice and dumping a couple forkfuls into the beef. He stared at the screen, glad to see the baseball game looked like every other game he'd ever seen. Not that he would have cared much if they'd been using completely different rules.
As long as there weren't any women screaming in Korean, or horses playing with frogs.
One of Sam's hands dropped down to toy gently with Dean's short hair. "This is nice."
He resisted the urge to push his head towards Sam's hand -- though if Sam kept it up, Dean had a feeling he was going to fall asleep. The painkillers had finally kicked in and the pain in his shoulder had receded. It was nice. Food, TV, Sam, and nothing to do but enjoy all three.
Sam fell silent again, though he kept up playing with Dean's hair as they watched the game.
Dean managed to polish off the entire carton of spicy beef and the carton of rice by the end of the next inning. The last several bites were difficult, because his eyes kept slipping closed. Finally he set the empty cartons down and let his head fall to the side, coming to rest on Sam's knee.
He heard Sam chuckle warmly. "I wonder if this is what it's like to have a pet."
"Woof," Dean said, quietly. He could feel himself falling asleep, and knew he should probably sit up. Watch the game, maybe put some clothes on. Instead he let his eyes drift closed again.
"Dean?" Sam's soft voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away.
Dean tried to open his eyes, and was surprised at how hard it seemed to be. He finally got them open -- and had no clue where he was. Sitting up, in someone's... right. The cabin.
The TV was off, and he looked over to find Sam watching him. "Wha' time si?" he asked, wanting to go right back to sleep.
"A little after ten. Figured you'd be more comfortable sleeping in a bed." Sam smiled at him. "Not that I mind being used as a pillow."
"Bed?" Dean looked around. There was a couch right here. He grabbed at the towel that was slipping from his shoulder, and looked down at it. Towel?
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, bed. Want to come find one with me?"
"'K." Dean held out his hand, and let Sam take it, and pull him to his feet. Dean felt himself sway, so he leaned against Sam for balance. Yawning, he closed his eyes for a second.
"Dean." Sam's voice was amused and his arms had found their way around Dean's waist.
He smiled and snuggled in. It felt so good to just stay there, holding Sam and being held. "One of the best parts," he added.
"What?"
"This," Dean said. "'Bout being in love with you. You snuggle."
There was silence for a long moment, but he felt Sam's fingers stroking at the back of his neck.
"Mmmmm. And that." Dean burrowed closer, wondering how he had never known how much he loved it when Sam caressed the back of his neck. He could spend all night like this, for the rest of his life. He could feel himself falling asleep again, and sighed, happily. "Love you."
Sam hugged him tighter. "Come on, let's go find that bed."
"Wanna go to sleep," Dean protested, when Sam moved. He didn't let go of Sam, and opened his eyes to glare at him -- and realised they were standing in the middle of the living room. He looked around. "Oh."
Sam smiled at him. "Yeah. Come on. Upstairs."
Dean nodded, and let his brother get him moving. He only stumbled a little; he could have woken himself up fully, but he didn't really see the point. He was just going to bed, and Sam was here to make sure he ended up in a bedroom and not on the porch.
He slipped his arm around Sam's waist, then tilted his head just enough. Sam's lips were warm.
"Dean..." Sam murmured before Dean covered his mouth again.
"Yeah?" Dean leaned back the slightest bit, so he could see Sam's face. He was feeling a lot more awake, suddenly. And feeling Sam, pressed against his not-really-clothed body.
He thought about the head-shrinking he'd given himself while Sam was gone. He didn't know if he'd reached any conclusions about what to do later -- but for now, for this weekend at least, he was going to shelve it all and let himself enjoy.
If it was all he could get, he needed to make it last.
"Bed?" Sam said in-between more kisses.
Dean felt himself growl. Bed, Sam, and a hell of a lot of hours with nothing else to do. "Bed," he agreed, then checked to see how Sam felt about having his neck sucked on.
Judging from the sound Sam made, he seemed to really really like it.
Dean growled again, then pushed his brother backwards. Sam looked stunned -- then his eyes got sad. But Dean just stepped forward and bodily propelled his brother towards the stairs. He didn't mind having sex in the living room, but his collarbone would probably thank him tomorrow if he was lying down on a soft bed, instead.
When Sam figured out what he was doing, he grinned, turned around and dashed up the stairs.
Dean hurried after him, leaving the towel where it fell, as it slipped off his shoulders. Reaching the top of the stairs, Sam glanced over his shoulder; Dean was close enough to see how his brother's eyes darkened when he looked at him. Sam half-reached for him, but stopped and shook his head. "Bed," he said firmly, reminding himself or Dean, Dean couldn't be sure. Then he headed at full speed down the hallway and into the master bedroom.
Dean followed, a little more slowly -- a long bath towel wasn't really built for speed. He reached the bedroom door not much after Sam did, though, and he paused in the doorway.
Sam had begun shedding his clothes the second he entered the room and was now down to just his jeans left, standing beside that sinfully large bed. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Dean hovering in the doorway and paused. "Dean?" he asked softly, making it question, concern and invitation all at once.
Dean put his hand on the towel where the corner was tucked in, and tugged. The towel spilled at his feet and he saw his brother's eyes widen and his focus fixate. "You gonna stand there all night?" he asked, softly.
The smile Sam gave him then was equal parts delight and wickedness and lit up his whole face in a way that Dean wanted to see more of. Moving quickly, Sam stripped off his jeans, kicking them aside.
"So I was thinking," Dean spoke casually, even as he walked towards Sam, both of them naked and taking their time. He had no idea what he wanted to do -- which he wanted to do first, tonight, and what could wait until later. At Sam's questioning expression, he asked, "Think the TV up here gets the Korean stations?"
Before Sam could respond, Dean was in front of him, almost but not quite touching. Sam licked his lips and leaned towards Dean slightly but didn't make contact. "Why?" he asked huskily. "You in the mood for more stories about horses and magic frogs?"
"I was starting to get a grasp of the...language," he said, slipping in the last tiny bit, and pressing his lips against Sam's. It was easy -- like he'd been doing it for years. The touch of Sam's mouth was already long familiar, he knew how Sam would respond if he pressed his tongue on the edge of Sam's lip just so.
Sam made a noise in the back of his throat and wrapped his arms around Dean, one hand ending up at the back of his neck, holding him in the kiss, the other going around his waist, pressing their bodies together.
Yep, that was the response. He pulled on Sam's lip, holding it carefully -- he didn't want to bite, not yet. "For example," he said when he released Sam's mouth, "Shibbal nom."
He had no idea if his accent was still as lousy as Kwan always insisted it was. Dean had always thought the old guy was just half-deaf. Dean grinned at the look on Sam's face.
"Jot di gari," he whispered, as though he wasn't calling his brother a dickhead, and wasn't thinking about doing what he'd said a moment ago. He slid his hand down Sam's back, feeling every bump of his spine, and pressing the flat of his hand to the rise of his ass.
"What does that mean?" Sam asked in a voice barely above a whisper. He was going still and quiet under Dean's touch as if afraid of doing something to make him stop.
"It means, 'my horse has a magic frog.'" Dean grinned, leaving his hand where it was. Sam felt so fucking good -- he couldn't decide if he wanted to take all night, explore and love and tease, or if he wanted to stop talking already and throw Sam down.
Sam puffed out a breath of laughter. "Of course it does."
"I told you I was watching that show for an hour. Stuff sinks in." With his free hand, Dean began to stroke Sam's arm. Skin so soft, and the muscles under it so hard. He knew what Sam could do -- every move he'd learned, most of them practiced on Dean himself.
He kissed Sam again before he could capitulate and tell him the truth.
The kiss pulled another soft whimper out of Sam and he held onto Dean tighter. Dean pushed him backwards, nudging him towards the bed. The whole point of wasting time to come upstairs, after all, was to lie down rather than do this whole thing standing.
Sam's knees hit the back of the bed and a little push from Dean sent him sprawling back on it. Dean's breath caught as he looked down at him, all loose limbed and dark eyed, the very essence of an invitation to sex.
Sam's mouth quirked up into a small smile. "Bed."
"Yes, it is," Dean said, agreeably. "You really are the smart one." He stayed where he was -- looking. Seeing what he'd seen in stolen glances, sideways looks, and his imagination. Now he could just stand there and look his fill.
Sam was entirely too gorgeous. Dean swallowed, regret whispering in the back of his mind. Only trouble was he couldn't decide if he regretted not having this sooner, or regretted having it now -- so he would know what he was losing, when he lost it.
"Hey." Sam leaned up on his elbows and reached out a hand to him. "It's okay. Whatever you're thinking... I'm not going anywhere."
Dean smirked. "Not dressed like that, you're not." He walked forward and climbed onto the bed, knees on the mattress on either side of Sam's legs.
Sam rested his hands on Dean's thighs and grinned up at him. "Hi."
"Not yet, but I'd like to be." He grinned down at Sam, then leaned forward slowly until he caught himself with his hands.
And fell to one side, narrowly missing his brother. He gave Sam an innocent look. "What?"
Sam didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow and ran a hand over Dean's sore shoulder.
"So I was thinking we could do this on our sides," Dean said, casually. Or -- the image of Sam, on top...fucking him.... Dean bit back a moan, but surged forward and kissed Sam, hard. Tangled his legs with Sam's, felt their erections press tight against each other.
Sam broke the kiss off with a gasp, his hands moving to stroke down Dean's back to his ass. "Sides can be good," he said, then dove back into another kiss.
Dean opened his mouth, let Sam direct the kiss. Let him do what he wanted while Dean slid his hands up Sam's back, pulling him hard, against him. Grasping at his brother's back, he began to rock, slightly, trying to get...something. More. He heard himself whimper.
"What do you want?" Sam murmured against his lips. "Anything, Dean. We can do whatever you want."
"Want... a five star luxury hotel in Cancun. A 1969 Mustang, green with leather interior." Dean kissed Sam, losing his train of thought as Sam moved against him. "Want those boots," he tossed out, remembering the ones he'd seen a biker wearing -- long black shank, black painted buckles. Sturdy enough to keep a guy from turning an ankle as he ran through the woods, and hot enough that the boots, tight jeans, and a white t-shirt would guarantee he'd get laid in any bar in any town across the country.
He gripped Sam's back, then ducked his head to do that biting thing that had made Sam moan, earlier.
It made him moan this time too, as well as move his hips against him in a way that just made Dean bite harder. "W-with me," Sam said, his voice catching. "What do you want to do with me?"
"You can come to Mexico with me," Dean allowed. "Won't let you drive the car." He sucked on Sam's neck, light enough not to leave a mark. The bite he'd left before was already darkening, and Dean gave it a lick.
Sam whimpered and tilted his head back. "God, Dean..."
"If you insist. I guess it's better than calling me 'honeybuns'." Dean sucked again, a little harder. Sam could deal with having a row of hickeys.
"I'll call you anything you want if you keep doing that."
Dean chuckled, and gave the spot a lick with the tip of his tongue. "Call me Oh Master of the World, Ruler of Brothers and Savior of All, Best and Smartest and--" Crap. He couldn't remember the rest of it.
"Dean," Sam gasped simply, but in a way that meant... everything. Anything else he asked Sam to call him would be redundant.
"God, I--" Dean kissed Sam, smothering the words before he could say them. Even though he had a faint memory of saying it already, harlequin romance and flowery declarations of love. He shook his head. "I just want you."
Sam pulled back enough to meet Dean's gaze, his eyes deep and serious. He touched Dean's cheek lightly. "You've got me. Always."
It sounded so good. It sounded perfect, which made Dean wonder just how long it would be before it all went to hell. But right now, with Sam here, Dean was willing to let it be perfect. He rolled towards Sam, letting his nose brush against Sam's cheek, nuzzled a bit and inhaled, deeply.
Sighing, Sam slid his fingers back from Dean's cheek into his hair, massaging gently. Dean felt himself practically purring, eyes slipping closed and his whole body was torn between falling apart into boneless oblivion, and flipping his brother onto his back and fucking him. He rocked his hips forward, already thrusting the way he wanted -- still had no idea if he wanted to fuck Sam or be fucked, or if he wanted to just stay where he was and touch Sam for the rest of forever.
Sam matched his rhythm and they rocked against each other slow and easy. Dean sighed, relaxing into Sam's hold. His cock was hard and he knew that pretty soon he'd be complaining of blue balls. But right now, all he wanted was to lie here and hold on. Touch, and be touched.
He felt something curling up tight in his chest and he turned his head, looking for Sam's mouth again. Felt himself whimper, and it sounded like... he had no idea what, something embarrassing and worth being teased over if he knew his brother. But the feeling was growing, digging claws into his chest and heart and pulling at him, dragging himself closer, and he tried to hold onto Sam.
The rocking of his hips just wasn't doing it, and he shoved his cock against Sam, rubbing harder, needing more than just this. Needed... he had no idea what, but the sensation inside was pushing him, desperate and needing and something was going to break if he didn't do something, soon.
Sam's mouth on his was no longer gentle, but hungry, desperate. "Dean," Sam gasped between kisses. "Anything. Dean..."
He tried to think about what he wanted, but all he came up with was -- now. He reached down between their bodies, and wrapped his hand around both of their erections. Pulled at them, and felt his brother slam his body against his in reaction. Dean moaned and moved his hand again, pushing his leg between Sam's and trying to hold him close for leverage.
They rolled over as they moved against each other, trying to get even closer. Dean ended up flat on his back with Sam over him, on him. His legs fell apart, letting Sam fall between them, and he knew what he wanted. One of the things he wanted, only right now he needed now more than he needed Sam inside him. He captured his brother's mouth in a kiss, holding him there as he moved his hand, up and down in a quickening rhythm.
Sam was making little noises deep in his chest, his hips rocking in frantic motion against Dean. He finally pulled his mouth away from Dean's panting for breath. "I'm gonna..."
"Come on, Sammy, come for me." He let go his own cock and concentrated on Sam.
Sam groaned and closed his eyes, but immediately opened them again. He held Dean's gaze steadily as Dean drove him over the edge and he came.
"Christ, Sam...." Dean swallowed, hard, and found himself unable to tear his gaze away from Sam's. Caught up and held fast, Dean's hand moved of its own accord for a moment. Then his hand stilled and he lay there -- unable and unwilling to break away. Sam's eyes were so open, Dean felt like he could see right through them, into the depths of his brother's mind.
Still not looking away, Sam slid his hand down between them and wrapped it around Dean's cock. "You too," he said, voice even huskier than it had been before. "Want to see you."
Dean cried out at the feel of Sam's hand. Long fingers, a strength in his fist that Dean knew -- never like this, with the feeling that Sam was holding him in his hand, and not just one small part of his body. He reached out and dug his own fingers into Sam's back, hanging on while Sam jerked him off.
His body started shaking, and he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Sam's shoulder as he lost control.
Sam held him through his orgasm then shifted a little to the side, dropping a kiss on Dean's temple as he did. Dean concentrated on just breathing for a moment. Inhale, exhale, molecules reforming his body in what he hoped was their original configuration. Then he lifted his head and looked at Sam -- half intending to give him an evil grin, but as soon as he started to smile, he just...smiled.
Sam smiled back, wide and bright as the sun, and leaned in and kissed him again. When they broke away, Dean bumped Sam's nose with his own, and tucked his head back down against Sam's shoulder. He didn't want to move.
He felt Sam's hands move idly over his back and arms, not arousing, just keeping contact. "I could get used to this," Sam murmured on a long contented sigh.
Dean felt himself tense, then forced himself to relax. Yeah, he could definitely get used to this as well. He lifted his head and kissed Sam again -- collecting, he told himself. Collect as many as he could, to horde for later.
on to part 4b
Sequel to: Heart's Desire I: Times Two
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: Wolfling (
wolfling) and James (zortified) Pairing: Sam/Dean (Wincest)
Rating: nc-17
Word Count 24,361 (story total)
Warnings: none
Spoilers: vague ones for Devil's Trap and Asylum
Summary: What do you do when what you want, is what you have?
Author's Notes: Many thanks to wesleysgirl for the beta. This part four! Final part Yay!
If you'd like to start at the beginning here on LJ, go to part 1a.
If you'd like to read the whole thing in a single file, you may find the story here on Gila's Cave: Heart's Desire II
This part is continued from part 3b
part 4a
It was a little less than an hour later when Sam got back and by then Dean had stopped glancing at the door every couple of minutes -- he was down to doing it every five.
Sam came in during one of the minutes when Dean was pretending not to be waiting so he missed the sight of his brother struggling to get the door open while loaded down with a number of what looked like heavy bags, but he did catch the sight of him staggering in towards the kitchen to put them down.
"Did you know this TV gets 412 stations?" he called out. Dean levered himself off the couch, and headed for the kitchen.
"Wow." Sam had dumped the bags on the counter and turned to look at Dean. Dean saw his eyes widen a little and dart down at his body before returning to his face. "You're not dressed."
Dean looked down at himself. The towel around his waist went practically to the floor, and the one around his shoulders was only hanging open in the front. He shrugged with his left shoulder. Then he looked past Sam to the bags. "Did you get any painkillers?" He grabbed one and dragged it across the counter towards him, to look.
In it there were assorted munchies and a smaller plastic bag, which on closer inspection turned out to contain a couple of steaks.
"Yeah." Sam dug into another bag and pulled out a box of extra strength ibuprofen and handed it over. "Is your shoulder really bad?"
"You got steaks?" Dean grabbed them, and pulled them out. Good sized ones, and his mouth was already watering. "Huh? Oh... it's not too bad. I just... won't say no to some pharmaceutical intervention. Since I couldn't find any beer." He took the ibuprofen from Sam and tore the box open, unscrewed the thankfully not child-proof cap, and shook out a few pills.
"Someone was dropping hints about wanting a steak dinner." Sam grinned and dug out a can of soda and handed it over for Dean to take the pills with.
"Someone was dropping hints about not actually providing a steak dinner." Dean took the can, tossed the pills back and swallowed. Then he opened the can and took a drink. "Seriously, dude, 412 channels. I need a TV in the shower and I could be set for life."
"A man of simple desires," Sam teased. He went back to unloading the groceries and Dean saw an inordinately large amount of food make its way from the bags into cupboards and the fridge.
"Um...Sam, did you have one of dad's credit cards?" He was pretty sure he didn't; Sam didn't look old enough to get away with not showing a form of ID, and they didn't have any for him that matched any names for the cards they'd got.
"There was this complete asshole at the store. More than half drunk. He pushed his way in front of this little old lady, yelled at the cashier and then drove off in this huge penis substitute-I-mean-hummer." Sam cleared his throat and coughed. "But not before I lifted his wallet."
Dean stared at his brother, shocked. Then he burst out laughing. "Sammy! Sammy... you lifted his wallet?" He clapped his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I'm so proud!" He grinned, wide as he could, then touched his fingertip to his eye. "I could cry."
Sam looked a little uncomfortable under the praise, but there was also a shy pleasure showing in his eyes. He shrugged. "He deserved it. He was a total jerk."
"I didn't know you could still lift a wallet -- didn't you stop that when you were thirteen?" Dean kept grinning.
Another shrug and Sam turned back to his unpacking. "Doesn't seem that big a deal anymore."
"Especially if it means we eat steak!" Dean picked up the meat and took it to the fridge. He took another swig of soda, and realised he hadn't seen any beer. Good as the ibuprofen was, it took awhile to kick in -- and beer kicked in immediately. "Did you get my apple pie?"
Busy putting more munchies in a cupboard, Sam just shot him the finger.
Dean just took another swallow of the soda, then realised he'd finished it. Well, it wasn't like he'd expected any pie -- he hadn't been expecting steaks, either, so he told himself to shut up and be grateful.
"You wanna see if we can find a game or something on TV?" he asked, in a neutral tone that hid his disappointment.
"Sure." Sam stood and gestured at the remaining bag. "I picked up Chinese for tonight. Figured we could cook the steaks tomorrow." He went about grabbing utensils and a couple more sodas. "What does one watch when one has 412 channels?"
Dean coughed. "I have no fucking clue. I couldn't figure out how to use the remote."
Sam stopped what he was doing and just stared at him.
He shrugged, trying for nonchalance and pretty sure he was failing. "I think it was Korean."
Now Sam was frowning slightly. "If you couldn't change the channel, how do you know there's 412 of them?"
"I don't, I just know there was a lot of them, but I couldn't actually get to any of them." Dean picked up the bag of Chinese take-out Sam had left on the counter and headed back towards the living room. Hopefully Sam had remembered to get two boxes of rice -- he didn't want to share, but of course he would if Sam had forgot.
"Maybe there's 412 channels in Korean," Sam suggested helpfully, following with the utensils and sodas.
"That'll be nice," Dean said, sarcastically. "I was hoping to brush up on my hwa'tu." He made his way to the coffee table, and sat down, setting the bag on top of the table. Sitting between it and the couch, Dean could lean back and watch the TV comfortably while eating. There was either a new program on, or the original cast had been killed and replaced by a pair of horses.
Sam put his stuff on the table next to the bag and settled on the couch. "Let me take a look at the remote; maybe I'll have a vision on how to make it work."
"Knock yourself out." Dean waved his hand towards the couch where he'd dropped the remote in frustration an hour ago. Opening the take-out bag, he saw the universal red and white boxes, and pulled one out at random. Rice. He set it to one side and tried again. Chow mien. "Oh god, this is disgusting," he said, holding it away from himself and towards Sam.
Sam chuckled and took the box from him, stretching forward to pick up a fork. In his other hand he had the remote and was studying it intently.
"Is it speaking to you, O Stupendous Swami?"
He wasn't exactly sure what the gesture Sam made with his fork in response meant, but it looked pretty damn rude.
"You know, I'm starting to pick up a little Korean. We could leave it on this station." Dean focused on the screen as he pulled out another box. "I think this horse is saying he needs to catch a magic frog in order to build a new skyscraper." He glanced down and smiled when he saw a second box of rice. Grabbing a fork, he took a huge bite, not really caring what else Sam had got.
"Your brain scares me sometimes. I think I might have figured it out." Sam held the remote out towards the TV and hit a button; on the screen the horses disappeared to be replaced by a menu of a whole lot of channels.
"Dude! How'd you do that?" Not that he really cared, as long as Sam didn't make them watch the congressional channel.
Sam grinned. "You got the charms, I got the brains." The cursor on the screen began flipping through the choices as Sam held a button down.
Dean flipped him off, but left him to it. He grabbed another box from the bag and opened it. Slices of beef and onions. He poked a bit and found absolutely no other vegetables to speak of.
He smiled.
Sam finally settled on a baseball game. "This okay?"
He glanced up. "That's great." He took a bite of his food -- his absolute favorite, but you almost never found it on the menu without some green or orange vegetable in it. Then he looked more carefully at the screen. "Are those Korean names on the jerseys?" He glared at Sam.
"Japanese, I think." Sam settled back on the couch, swinging his feet up and leaning back against the arm rest.
"Oh, that's all right, then." He hesitated, then, quietly, he managed, "Thanks."
Sam shrugged. "I'm sure you would've figured it out yourself eventually. You're good with your hands."
"I meant...." He gestured with the carton of food. "And the steaks."
"It's no big deal." Sam took a big bite of his chow mien and had to swallow before continuing. "You said you wanted them, and I was able to get them so..."
"Yeah." No big deal. Dean leaned back again, picking up the rice and dumping a couple forkfuls into the beef. He stared at the screen, glad to see the baseball game looked like every other game he'd ever seen. Not that he would have cared much if they'd been using completely different rules.
As long as there weren't any women screaming in Korean, or horses playing with frogs.
One of Sam's hands dropped down to toy gently with Dean's short hair. "This is nice."
He resisted the urge to push his head towards Sam's hand -- though if Sam kept it up, Dean had a feeling he was going to fall asleep. The painkillers had finally kicked in and the pain in his shoulder had receded. It was nice. Food, TV, Sam, and nothing to do but enjoy all three.
Sam fell silent again, though he kept up playing with Dean's hair as they watched the game.
Dean managed to polish off the entire carton of spicy beef and the carton of rice by the end of the next inning. The last several bites were difficult, because his eyes kept slipping closed. Finally he set the empty cartons down and let his head fall to the side, coming to rest on Sam's knee.
He heard Sam chuckle warmly. "I wonder if this is what it's like to have a pet."
"Woof," Dean said, quietly. He could feel himself falling asleep, and knew he should probably sit up. Watch the game, maybe put some clothes on. Instead he let his eyes drift closed again.
"Dean?" Sam's soft voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away.
Dean tried to open his eyes, and was surprised at how hard it seemed to be. He finally got them open -- and had no clue where he was. Sitting up, in someone's... right. The cabin.
The TV was off, and he looked over to find Sam watching him. "Wha' time si?" he asked, wanting to go right back to sleep.
"A little after ten. Figured you'd be more comfortable sleeping in a bed." Sam smiled at him. "Not that I mind being used as a pillow."
"Bed?" Dean looked around. There was a couch right here. He grabbed at the towel that was slipping from his shoulder, and looked down at it. Towel?
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, bed. Want to come find one with me?"
"'K." Dean held out his hand, and let Sam take it, and pull him to his feet. Dean felt himself sway, so he leaned against Sam for balance. Yawning, he closed his eyes for a second.
"Dean." Sam's voice was amused and his arms had found their way around Dean's waist.
He smiled and snuggled in. It felt so good to just stay there, holding Sam and being held. "One of the best parts," he added.
"What?"
"This," Dean said. "'Bout being in love with you. You snuggle."
There was silence for a long moment, but he felt Sam's fingers stroking at the back of his neck.
"Mmmmm. And that." Dean burrowed closer, wondering how he had never known how much he loved it when Sam caressed the back of his neck. He could spend all night like this, for the rest of his life. He could feel himself falling asleep again, and sighed, happily. "Love you."
Sam hugged him tighter. "Come on, let's go find that bed."
"Wanna go to sleep," Dean protested, when Sam moved. He didn't let go of Sam, and opened his eyes to glare at him -- and realised they were standing in the middle of the living room. He looked around. "Oh."
Sam smiled at him. "Yeah. Come on. Upstairs."
Dean nodded, and let his brother get him moving. He only stumbled a little; he could have woken himself up fully, but he didn't really see the point. He was just going to bed, and Sam was here to make sure he ended up in a bedroom and not on the porch.
He slipped his arm around Sam's waist, then tilted his head just enough. Sam's lips were warm.
"Dean..." Sam murmured before Dean covered his mouth again.
"Yeah?" Dean leaned back the slightest bit, so he could see Sam's face. He was feeling a lot more awake, suddenly. And feeling Sam, pressed against his not-really-clothed body.
He thought about the head-shrinking he'd given himself while Sam was gone. He didn't know if he'd reached any conclusions about what to do later -- but for now, for this weekend at least, he was going to shelve it all and let himself enjoy.
If it was all he could get, he needed to make it last.
"Bed?" Sam said in-between more kisses.
Dean felt himself growl. Bed, Sam, and a hell of a lot of hours with nothing else to do. "Bed," he agreed, then checked to see how Sam felt about having his neck sucked on.
Judging from the sound Sam made, he seemed to really really like it.
Dean growled again, then pushed his brother backwards. Sam looked stunned -- then his eyes got sad. But Dean just stepped forward and bodily propelled his brother towards the stairs. He didn't mind having sex in the living room, but his collarbone would probably thank him tomorrow if he was lying down on a soft bed, instead.
When Sam figured out what he was doing, he grinned, turned around and dashed up the stairs.
Dean hurried after him, leaving the towel where it fell, as it slipped off his shoulders. Reaching the top of the stairs, Sam glanced over his shoulder; Dean was close enough to see how his brother's eyes darkened when he looked at him. Sam half-reached for him, but stopped and shook his head. "Bed," he said firmly, reminding himself or Dean, Dean couldn't be sure. Then he headed at full speed down the hallway and into the master bedroom.
Dean followed, a little more slowly -- a long bath towel wasn't really built for speed. He reached the bedroom door not much after Sam did, though, and he paused in the doorway.
Sam had begun shedding his clothes the second he entered the room and was now down to just his jeans left, standing beside that sinfully large bed. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Dean hovering in the doorway and paused. "Dean?" he asked softly, making it question, concern and invitation all at once.
Dean put his hand on the towel where the corner was tucked in, and tugged. The towel spilled at his feet and he saw his brother's eyes widen and his focus fixate. "You gonna stand there all night?" he asked, softly.
The smile Sam gave him then was equal parts delight and wickedness and lit up his whole face in a way that Dean wanted to see more of. Moving quickly, Sam stripped off his jeans, kicking them aside.
"So I was thinking," Dean spoke casually, even as he walked towards Sam, both of them naked and taking their time. He had no idea what he wanted to do -- which he wanted to do first, tonight, and what could wait until later. At Sam's questioning expression, he asked, "Think the TV up here gets the Korean stations?"
Before Sam could respond, Dean was in front of him, almost but not quite touching. Sam licked his lips and leaned towards Dean slightly but didn't make contact. "Why?" he asked huskily. "You in the mood for more stories about horses and magic frogs?"
"I was starting to get a grasp of the...language," he said, slipping in the last tiny bit, and pressing his lips against Sam's. It was easy -- like he'd been doing it for years. The touch of Sam's mouth was already long familiar, he knew how Sam would respond if he pressed his tongue on the edge of Sam's lip just so.
Sam made a noise in the back of his throat and wrapped his arms around Dean, one hand ending up at the back of his neck, holding him in the kiss, the other going around his waist, pressing their bodies together.
Yep, that was the response. He pulled on Sam's lip, holding it carefully -- he didn't want to bite, not yet. "For example," he said when he released Sam's mouth, "Shibbal nom."
He had no idea if his accent was still as lousy as Kwan always insisted it was. Dean had always thought the old guy was just half-deaf. Dean grinned at the look on Sam's face.
"Jot di gari," he whispered, as though he wasn't calling his brother a dickhead, and wasn't thinking about doing what he'd said a moment ago. He slid his hand down Sam's back, feeling every bump of his spine, and pressing the flat of his hand to the rise of his ass.
"What does that mean?" Sam asked in a voice barely above a whisper. He was going still and quiet under Dean's touch as if afraid of doing something to make him stop.
"It means, 'my horse has a magic frog.'" Dean grinned, leaving his hand where it was. Sam felt so fucking good -- he couldn't decide if he wanted to take all night, explore and love and tease, or if he wanted to stop talking already and throw Sam down.
Sam puffed out a breath of laughter. "Of course it does."
"I told you I was watching that show for an hour. Stuff sinks in." With his free hand, Dean began to stroke Sam's arm. Skin so soft, and the muscles under it so hard. He knew what Sam could do -- every move he'd learned, most of them practiced on Dean himself.
He kissed Sam again before he could capitulate and tell him the truth.
The kiss pulled another soft whimper out of Sam and he held onto Dean tighter. Dean pushed him backwards, nudging him towards the bed. The whole point of wasting time to come upstairs, after all, was to lie down rather than do this whole thing standing.
Sam's knees hit the back of the bed and a little push from Dean sent him sprawling back on it. Dean's breath caught as he looked down at him, all loose limbed and dark eyed, the very essence of an invitation to sex.
Sam's mouth quirked up into a small smile. "Bed."
"Yes, it is," Dean said, agreeably. "You really are the smart one." He stayed where he was -- looking. Seeing what he'd seen in stolen glances, sideways looks, and his imagination. Now he could just stand there and look his fill.
Sam was entirely too gorgeous. Dean swallowed, regret whispering in the back of his mind. Only trouble was he couldn't decide if he regretted not having this sooner, or regretted having it now -- so he would know what he was losing, when he lost it.
"Hey." Sam leaned up on his elbows and reached out a hand to him. "It's okay. Whatever you're thinking... I'm not going anywhere."
Dean smirked. "Not dressed like that, you're not." He walked forward and climbed onto the bed, knees on the mattress on either side of Sam's legs.
Sam rested his hands on Dean's thighs and grinned up at him. "Hi."
"Not yet, but I'd like to be." He grinned down at Sam, then leaned forward slowly until he caught himself with his hands.
And fell to one side, narrowly missing his brother. He gave Sam an innocent look. "What?"
Sam didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow and ran a hand over Dean's sore shoulder.
"So I was thinking we could do this on our sides," Dean said, casually. Or -- the image of Sam, on top...fucking him.... Dean bit back a moan, but surged forward and kissed Sam, hard. Tangled his legs with Sam's, felt their erections press tight against each other.
Sam broke the kiss off with a gasp, his hands moving to stroke down Dean's back to his ass. "Sides can be good," he said, then dove back into another kiss.
Dean opened his mouth, let Sam direct the kiss. Let him do what he wanted while Dean slid his hands up Sam's back, pulling him hard, against him. Grasping at his brother's back, he began to rock, slightly, trying to get...something. More. He heard himself whimper.
"What do you want?" Sam murmured against his lips. "Anything, Dean. We can do whatever you want."
"Want... a five star luxury hotel in Cancun. A 1969 Mustang, green with leather interior." Dean kissed Sam, losing his train of thought as Sam moved against him. "Want those boots," he tossed out, remembering the ones he'd seen a biker wearing -- long black shank, black painted buckles. Sturdy enough to keep a guy from turning an ankle as he ran through the woods, and hot enough that the boots, tight jeans, and a white t-shirt would guarantee he'd get laid in any bar in any town across the country.
He gripped Sam's back, then ducked his head to do that biting thing that had made Sam moan, earlier.
It made him moan this time too, as well as move his hips against him in a way that just made Dean bite harder. "W-with me," Sam said, his voice catching. "What do you want to do with me?"
"You can come to Mexico with me," Dean allowed. "Won't let you drive the car." He sucked on Sam's neck, light enough not to leave a mark. The bite he'd left before was already darkening, and Dean gave it a lick.
Sam whimpered and tilted his head back. "God, Dean..."
"If you insist. I guess it's better than calling me 'honeybuns'." Dean sucked again, a little harder. Sam could deal with having a row of hickeys.
"I'll call you anything you want if you keep doing that."
Dean chuckled, and gave the spot a lick with the tip of his tongue. "Call me Oh Master of the World, Ruler of Brothers and Savior of All, Best and Smartest and--" Crap. He couldn't remember the rest of it.
"Dean," Sam gasped simply, but in a way that meant... everything. Anything else he asked Sam to call him would be redundant.
"God, I--" Dean kissed Sam, smothering the words before he could say them. Even though he had a faint memory of saying it already, harlequin romance and flowery declarations of love. He shook his head. "I just want you."
Sam pulled back enough to meet Dean's gaze, his eyes deep and serious. He touched Dean's cheek lightly. "You've got me. Always."
It sounded so good. It sounded perfect, which made Dean wonder just how long it would be before it all went to hell. But right now, with Sam here, Dean was willing to let it be perfect. He rolled towards Sam, letting his nose brush against Sam's cheek, nuzzled a bit and inhaled, deeply.
Sighing, Sam slid his fingers back from Dean's cheek into his hair, massaging gently. Dean felt himself practically purring, eyes slipping closed and his whole body was torn between falling apart into boneless oblivion, and flipping his brother onto his back and fucking him. He rocked his hips forward, already thrusting the way he wanted -- still had no idea if he wanted to fuck Sam or be fucked, or if he wanted to just stay where he was and touch Sam for the rest of forever.
Sam matched his rhythm and they rocked against each other slow and easy. Dean sighed, relaxing into Sam's hold. His cock was hard and he knew that pretty soon he'd be complaining of blue balls. But right now, all he wanted was to lie here and hold on. Touch, and be touched.
He felt something curling up tight in his chest and he turned his head, looking for Sam's mouth again. Felt himself whimper, and it sounded like... he had no idea what, something embarrassing and worth being teased over if he knew his brother. But the feeling was growing, digging claws into his chest and heart and pulling at him, dragging himself closer, and he tried to hold onto Sam.
The rocking of his hips just wasn't doing it, and he shoved his cock against Sam, rubbing harder, needing more than just this. Needed... he had no idea what, but the sensation inside was pushing him, desperate and needing and something was going to break if he didn't do something, soon.
Sam's mouth on his was no longer gentle, but hungry, desperate. "Dean," Sam gasped between kisses. "Anything. Dean..."
He tried to think about what he wanted, but all he came up with was -- now. He reached down between their bodies, and wrapped his hand around both of their erections. Pulled at them, and felt his brother slam his body against his in reaction. Dean moaned and moved his hand again, pushing his leg between Sam's and trying to hold him close for leverage.
They rolled over as they moved against each other, trying to get even closer. Dean ended up flat on his back with Sam over him, on him. His legs fell apart, letting Sam fall between them, and he knew what he wanted. One of the things he wanted, only right now he needed now more than he needed Sam inside him. He captured his brother's mouth in a kiss, holding him there as he moved his hand, up and down in a quickening rhythm.
Sam was making little noises deep in his chest, his hips rocking in frantic motion against Dean. He finally pulled his mouth away from Dean's panting for breath. "I'm gonna..."
"Come on, Sammy, come for me." He let go his own cock and concentrated on Sam.
Sam groaned and closed his eyes, but immediately opened them again. He held Dean's gaze steadily as Dean drove him over the edge and he came.
"Christ, Sam...." Dean swallowed, hard, and found himself unable to tear his gaze away from Sam's. Caught up and held fast, Dean's hand moved of its own accord for a moment. Then his hand stilled and he lay there -- unable and unwilling to break away. Sam's eyes were so open, Dean felt like he could see right through them, into the depths of his brother's mind.
Still not looking away, Sam slid his hand down between them and wrapped it around Dean's cock. "You too," he said, voice even huskier than it had been before. "Want to see you."
Dean cried out at the feel of Sam's hand. Long fingers, a strength in his fist that Dean knew -- never like this, with the feeling that Sam was holding him in his hand, and not just one small part of his body. He reached out and dug his own fingers into Sam's back, hanging on while Sam jerked him off.
His body started shaking, and he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Sam's shoulder as he lost control.
Sam held him through his orgasm then shifted a little to the side, dropping a kiss on Dean's temple as he did. Dean concentrated on just breathing for a moment. Inhale, exhale, molecules reforming his body in what he hoped was their original configuration. Then he lifted his head and looked at Sam -- half intending to give him an evil grin, but as soon as he started to smile, he just...smiled.
Sam smiled back, wide and bright as the sun, and leaned in and kissed him again. When they broke away, Dean bumped Sam's nose with his own, and tucked his head back down against Sam's shoulder. He didn't want to move.
He felt Sam's hands move idly over his back and arms, not arousing, just keeping contact. "I could get used to this," Sam murmured on a long contented sigh.
Dean felt himself tense, then forced himself to relax. Yeah, he could definitely get used to this as well. He lifted his head and kissed Sam again -- collecting, he told himself. Collect as many as he could, to horde for later.
on to part 4b