sketchydean

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The Wanting Comes In Waves

All Sam/Dean, All The Time


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Gift Box
smalltrolven

Fic: Gift Box - Chapter 1 of 3

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Dean slowly awakens with the sound of Sam’s low, throaty giggle in his ears. Wait. A giggle? From Sam?

He cracks one eye open and registers the utter darkness they’re in, save one far away dim reddish light.  He can feel Sam is close. Very close. Like not as close as they’ve been in many years, maybe since they were littles sharing one of a series of never-ending uncomfortable motel beds.  Sam is pressed up against his back, giant arm banding him tight around his chest.  Other hand petting through his hair.  This brings him fully awake abruptly. Petting his hair?

“Sam whatareyoudoing?” He grumbles out in a harsh indignant huff. 

Sam’s answer is a low rumbly chuckle that he feels vibrate through to his own ribcage.  “Sssh Dean. I’m just dreaming this.” 

Dean tries to sit up but hits his head on something hard and unforgiving and splintery.  “Shit, where the hell are we anyways?”

Sam’s no longer chuckling or giggling, his breath sounds like it is being stopped on purpose so that he can really listen. After listening, he finally gathers in one large inhale and blows it out in a big whoosh that tickles the hair on the back of Dean’s head.  “I don’t think we’re in our motel room anymore.” 

Dean snorts derisively as he’s expected to, “Way to go college boy, glad you’re here to tell me what’s what.” 

A mock insulted huff from Sam again moves Dean’s hair in a warm yet not unpleasant way.  “Fine Dean, then you enlighten me, what’ve you figured out?” 

Dean tries to shrug and circle his shoulders which brings him more fully in contact with Sam’s chest, his firm, unyielding chest that seems to be taking up all of the room so that he can barely breathe now.  There’s just no room in here, wood on one side, Sam on the other, wood below, wood above.  Trapped, again, like the time he came awake in his coffin and had to claw his way out.  Those were the longest minutes of his life, the source of many many nightmares over the subsequent years.  He can feel his breath coming faster and shallower, his heart trip-hammering in his chest, the panic spiral starting up.  The red light seems to expand, and flashbacks of his time in Hell start flooding in, the unrelenting noise of the screams, the inexhaustible stench of blood, the only reality the unending pain.  Once it starts he can’t stop it, fully immersed back in his sense memories of the pit.  Alastair’s sickly grin looms close in his memory and the horrific pleasure he’d derived from learning the torture skills from the master coils deep in his belly, reawakening that lust for praise for doing his job well.

Sam hears his brother’s breathing getting more and more panicky, guessing that Dean is stuck in one of his Hell memories, just like the year after he’d gotten out of the Pit.  So Sam squeezes him harder and pats his head more firmly, “Hey now, not the time or place for a panic attack, you just breathe with me Dean.”  Sam moves his hand up to Dean’s chest, over his tattoo, and rubs what he hopes is a comforting circle, keeping his voice calm yet insistent.  “In and out, in and out, breathe with me, there you go, I can feel your heart rate going down, you okay now?” 

Finally the comfort of Sam’s touch and the cadence and tone of his words get through the wall of memories holding him down.  Dean sighs loudly and leans back into Sam, releasing all the held too tight muscles and relaxing as much as he can.  “Yeah, um, thanks Sam for stopping me before I got too wound up.”  Dean can feel Sam’s smile in his hair, wait in his hair, what is he kissing my head?  

“No problem, I need you here with me to figure this out, not passed out and getting in the way.” 

Dean starts trying to move his arms out of Sam’s embrace. “I can’t move enough, you’ve got me pinned by your long-ass arms.  Is there room for you, can you reach in my back pocket, see if my cell phone is still in there?”

Sam has just enough room to move his hand down from Dean’s chest to the back pocket on Dean’s jeans, and works his long fingers in the edge of the pocket, pinching out the small phone.  “Here got it. Shit, no reception of course.  But at least we can use this for light until the battery runs out.  Let me try mine.”

Sam reaches down to feel in his own pocket, gripping the phone between his fingers and slowly bringing it up so he can reach the right key and see the screen, “Yeah, no reception for me either.  Well, we’ll save mine for later.”

“So where the hell are we anyways, and who put us in here?  What all do we have, just you me, our clothes and our phones right?  I got my lock picks that are hidden but those won’t help.  You don’t happen to have a knife on you?” Dean turns his head a little to catch Sam’s eye in the dim red light, wishing Sam had turned on one of the cell phones already, because he can’t see and something about the redness of it makes it hard to think of  anything else but Hell.  But he doesn’t insist, because he was already a wuss about having a damned panic attack already, Sam doesn’t need to see him lose it completely while they’re stuck in here.

“Nope, nothing.  Just some change in my pocket.  At least it seems like there is an air source so we don’t have to worry about suffocating.”  Sam answers trying to sound as reassuring as possible, not wanting to set off another panic attack.

Dean all of a sudden pushes back hard into Sam, slamming him into the wall of the box and kicks out viciously with his feet.  The box doesn’t budge at all.  Sam yells in surprise, “Damn it Dean! You could have warned me you were going to do that!”

“Hey I just thought it might work.  Sorry Princess Samantha, didn’t think about how I was going to hit back into your delicate body. Uh, you okay?”

“Yeah, it just surprised me is all.  Think we should bother yelling for help?”

“Naw, I don’t think that would do anything.  So, let’s work this like any case, what do we know, or I suppose what do we last remember?”  Dean asks with as much bravado as he can manage after his recent near-miss meltdown.

Sam hears the waver in his brother’s voice and speaks as calmly as he can, continuing with pressing the calming circles over Dean’s heart. “Well, I remember we were done eating our takeout Chinese, just getting set up in our motel room in Sparks, Nevada, after we’d driven non-stop from Lilydale.”

Dean tries to squirm away from Sam’s embrace at the mention of Lilydale, thinking of that uncomfortable car ride when Sam had just come back to him after their big fight.  But of course, there’s nowhere to squirm away to, so he just rests there and tries to relax in Sam’s arms.

Not sure why Dean’s moving around so much and tensing up, Sam gets the feeling  that painting a picture of his memory will help Dean calm down, so he continues in the same calm voice, “Remember the food was really greasy; you were laughing about the pork buns soaking through the container onto my jacket.”

At the memory of the soggy, greasy pork buns, Dean forgets where he is for a moment and chuckles, “c’mon Sammy, that was funny, you were so mad at me for laughing, but the carton made that big wet spot, I couldn’t help it, even if you were bitch-facing all over the place.”

Hearing his brother’s relaxed chuckling tells Sam he’s on the right track with being detailed with the story “Yeah and you can’t help it now apparently and I was not bitch-facing.  After all your helpful laughing, I remember I went in the bathroom, took some Tums, brushed my teeth, got into bed and fell asleep.”

Sam moves one of his hands down to Dean’s hip and taps his finger slowly against Dean’s waistband , emphasizing each detail, hoping the physical sensation will help keep him from falling back into the state of panic, “You had the TV on to some action movie, something with the Governator, and you were drinking your third whisky of the evening. Then I woke up smashed together in here with you after having a really nice dream.” 

Dean’s relaxed now after hearing Sam’s calm voice and picturing that no-doubt very far away motel room, and the sensation of his finger  tapping on his waistband isn’t so much annoying as strangely comforting, like Sam’s hands always feel on his body, “So now you’re counting my drinks, Sam?  Awesome.  What were you dreaming about anyways? You were honest to god giggling, not to mention squeezing me and petting my hair!  That’s what woke me up in the first place.”

Sam hesitates to answer and moves his hand back up to rest with the other one over Dean’s heart, and sighs heavily.  Before he can even ask what the sighing is about, Dean can feel him smile into his shoulder this time,” I was dreaming the future Dean.”

This time Dean hesitates, because Sam’s dreams haven’t always been just plain dreams, so he asks cautiously, “What, like a regular dream or one of your visions?”

Sam doesn’t say anything, but Dean feels his brother’s body go completely rigid, as if he’s now lying there in the arms of a Sam carved out of marble, even his skin feels colder to the touch, then Dean hears Sam whisper hoarsely as if he’s been arguing for hours, “Of course Dean’s not going to understand me!  He won’t want to hear all of this.  And I can’t do that to him.”  Sam pauses in his rant as if he’s listening to someone’s answer. “No, I won’t do it, I can’t tell him that, you can’t make me.”

Dean realizes with a sickening swoop in his belly that Sam’s hallucinating Lucifer, awesome, such great timing, because he can’t even see much in this dim red light, since Sam never turned on one of the cell phones.  Which he can’t reach.  So Dean does the only thing that he knows might work and slowly wriggles his hand up to get to hold of Sam’s which are folded together up near Dean’s heart.  He reaches for Sam’s formerly cut up hand.  The one he’d stitched up himself, and made bleed when Sam was waving the gun around and yelling at both he and Lucifer.  The hand that has the scar that Sam keeps touching all the time, to keep himself grounded in reality. 

Dean feels the hard raised flesh on Sam’s palm gently at first, then begins pushing in sharply, deeply, and he yells to get Sam’s attention back to the here and now Lucifer-free box that they’re in,  “Sammy, hey Sammy!  Come back to me, right now!”

He can feel Sam come back into his body, the marble ridged muscles turning into the still-firm but now human feeling body surrounding him.  “Sam, you okay now?”  He asks quietly, hoping with everything he’s got that his brother is really back here with him now, because he knows there’s nothing else he can do. 

“Yeah, uh, I’m good now.”  Sam’s so upset with himself for checking out like that on Dean, especially now, when they’re stuck.  And especially just as he was about to try and tell Dean about his vision of the future.

“Sam can you turn on the cell phone light now?”

“Sure, thought I’d done that already.”

“Nope, you were about to when you started talking to someone else.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.”  Sam moves one hand up and pushes the right combination of buttons and the soft bluish glow of the cell phone lights up the small space.  They can see their hands, and see that they are indeed inside a solid wooden box.

Dean cranes his head around so he can just barely catch Sam’s eye, “Sam, its okay.  This is an unusual situation, shit’s gonna happen, hell I already had a near melt-down in here that you stopped.”

“I know it’s just…I know it’s really bad for you when I do that, I wish I could stop it, stop him.” Sam trails off, knowing that he can’t make Dean understand this.

“Hey, would you just cut it out? You were talking to someone about how you couldn’t tell me about something, that I wouldn’t understand, that you couldn’t do that to me.  It sounded pretty important. Do you remember what it was Sam?”

“Yeah, I do, but he was right.” Sam mumbles, not wanting to continue this conversation because he knows in his heart Lucifer is right, that Dean needs to hear it, what his vision of their future is.

“Who was right?” Dean asks, stomach sinking even lower, knowing the answer before he even hears Sam’s reply.

“Lucifer.” Sam whispers, sounding utterly defeated and so very very small. The name hangs in the small space, vibrating and practically visible to both of them, symbol of everything that’s gone wrong in their lives.

Dean squeezes both of Sam’s hands as hard as he can, to break him out of falling back into a hallucination, “Sam, I don’t care what he’s telling you, you’ve gotta trust me.  I swear you can tell me anything.  Don’t believe him Sam.  You gotta believe me.  I’m what’s real remember? Stone number one and all that.”  Dean grips Sam’s scarred hand once again hard, hearing Sam’s quickly indrawn breath he lets up the pressure and strokes his thumb back and forth on the raised mark soothingly.

“Yeah, alright Dean.” Sam thinks to himself that Lucifer is probably more right than Dean can imagine, but that he’s about to find out who really is correct, because he knows Dean won’t stop asking about his dream since it was the trigger to his hallucination.

“Good, glad we got that settled.  How about you just finish telling me about your dream.”

“Well, it wasn’t a dream, I know I said I was dreaming the future right?  But it wasn’t just a dream, it was something else.  I’d compare it to the visions like I used to get, but this time it wasn’t about someone dying.  I haven’t had one of those in years, not since we killed Azazel.  This time it was a good dream, about what’s to come, in the future for us.”

“What do you mean us? Like you and me?”

“Well, specifically you and me, uh, together.” Sam says a bit hesitantly.

“Together, together?” Dean kind of squeaks in surprise, because whatthehell!?

“Um, yeah, together, together.  And this wasn’t just a dream or a fantasy either, because of how it felt as I was seeing it.  It’s hard to explain how it’s different, just there’s more to it than just a dream, more substance or something,  and oh crap, now I’m getting one of those post-vision headaches.”  Sam tries to curl in on himself, but there just isn’t room enough for him to move much at all.  His head is curled into the top of Dean’s shoulder.

“Shit,  I don’t know how to help you. We don’t have a med kit or water or anything.”

“Huh, that’s what you’re worried about Dean? Not what I saw?”

Dean wishes more than anything he could sock Sam in the shoulder, “Of course I’m more worried about your pain than some freaky-assed vision.  At least for now anyways.  Here can you turn over and I will too.  Then I can rub your neck, sometimes that helps your headaches right?”   They slowly take turns moving a little bit at time until eventually Dean is plastered against Sam’s back.  He pushes back as far as he can to get a bit more room to work on Sam’s shoulders. 

“Geez if you weren’t so huge now there’d be more room to work on these monster muscles of yours.”

Sam chuckles softly,” I hadn’t thought you’d noticed Dean.”

Dean digs his fingers in deeply and sighs his agreement, “Kinda hard to miss Sasquatch.  Especially when you were Robo-Sam strutting around without a shirt all the time.  How’s that feel Sammy, any better yet?”  Dean softly scratches one hand through the back of Sam’s hair.  

Sam closes his eyes, rolls his shoulders and leans his head back into Dean’s hand. Making a contented almost purring happy sound. “Yeah, Dean thanks, feels really good.” (pleasedontevereverstop)

“How come you’re dreaming of the future all of a sudden now?  You never did before unless it was about someone dying and connected to Azazel somehow right?”

Sam shrugs, “No, I never did.  I figure it has something to do with the soul-reintegration.  Since some parts of me were old, from when I had the powers, some of it must have come back to me.”

“The soul what?”  Dean asks, knowing that this will be something he probably doesn’t really want to know.

Sam shrugs again, a little sheepishly this time, “Oh, I guess I didn’t ever talk to you about this.  It’s kind of a long story.”

Continuing scratching through Sam’s hair, Dean replies in his best patient, big-brother tone, “Sam, we’ve got nothin’ but time stuck in here, and I see no way out for now, so go ahead, I’m all ears.”

“I guess I collapsed when Cas brought down my wall, and you and Bobby brought me back to the panic room, right?” Sam asks quickly as a way of stopping Dean from getting exasperated with him.

“Yeah, you were just gone Sam, it was like you weren’t there, it wasn’t like those other times when you had those seizure things when the Wall was still up.  That’s why it was so hard to leave you.  One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” Dean’s voice trails off towards the end, as a sudden wash of emotion at the memory overtakes him.  He reaches around Sam’s waist and squeezes him tight.

Sam reaches one hand over to hold tight to the one Dean’s just hugged him with, and says firmly, trying to return the emotion that he heard in Dean’s voice, “I’m glad you did, you had to get to Cas, to try to stop him, I understand.  I wouldn’t have been able to help anyways.  And there wasn’t anything you could have done to help me.”

Shaking his head against Sam’s back in frustration that he’s not getting this, what it meant to be on the edge of losing his little brother all over again and says more firmly this time, “I know all that.  But Sam, I really thought you were going to die. And I wouldn’t have even been there.  I mean I hoped you’d snap out of it on your own, but I really didn’t think we’d see each other alive again.”

Feeling more than hearing Dean’s fear in the memory of that night makes Sam reach for Dean’s hand to squeeze it reassuringly, “Shit, that must have been hard to do Dean.  But hey it worked out.”

Dean swallows audibly against the sudden lump in his throat, “Yeah, it did thank God.”

“So you still want to hear about the soul reintegration thing?” Sam asks gently.

“You know it.”  Dean goes back to rubbing Sam’s shoulders, feeling the knots in the muscles give way under his probing strong fingers. 

“Well that’s just what I’m calling what happened, in my mind after the Wall was brought down.” Sam says, a small hesitation in his voice as he remembers the whole awful experience, being trapped in his mind for hours, fighting against himself, trying with all his might to get back to Dean.

“Happened in your mind, what do you mean?” Dean asks, stilling his hands, wanting to make sure he really understands what Sam’s telling him, because he can tell this is important by the set of Sam’s shoulders and the catch he hears in his voice.

Taking a deep breath, Sam just spills it all out quickly, “Well, the best way to describe it, I was fighting myself in my own mind, I was split up three ways, Me, the Sam who’d been soul-less and the Sam who’d lived through Hell.  And I had to battle to take on the memories from the other two.  Soul-less me was the hardest, but the Sam from Hell was the worst, he told me not to do it, not to take the Hell memories back, that I wouldn’t survive.  He told me to stay there in my mind and go find Jess and make a life with her in there, inside my mind.”

Blowing out the breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding the whole time Sam had been speaking, Dean ends up asking a little breathlessly, “Jesus, really?  Why didn’t you do it Sam? Maybe you could have been happy in there. It’s been so hard for you with the hallucinations and I know you’re not even telling me half of what you’re dealing with. So why did you take on the Hell memories like that?”

Sam’s shoulders slump at Dean’s question, because of course Dean wouldn’t ever guess this, “Well, like I told the Sam who remembered the Cage, that he knew me, he’d know why.”

“Why?” Dean asks, hoping he knows the answer, but not wanting to assume he’s right.

“Because I couldn’t leave you out there in the real world alone Dean.  I knew you needed me and I needed to be with you.” Sam answers, suddenly wishing that he could see Dean’s reaction to this outright emotional statement, they’re veering close to the always volatile chick-flick territory.

Dean’s so glad that Sam can’t see his face right now, because it’s burning with a hot blush from hearing this admission from his brother, “Well you got that right.   But shit Sam, was it really worth it?  Now that you have to live on the run from Leviathans and hallucinating Lucifer all the time.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, because he can’t.  He instead begins turning himself slowly so that he can be face to face with Dean who catches on and cooperates by moving back as far as he can to give Sam as much room as he can.  Once he’s able to, Sam looks Dean straight in the eye and asks with barely constrained frustration at his brother’s endless parade of low self-worth.  “Do you really have to ask me that Dean?”

“Yeah, sure I do.” Dean says as defiantly as he can manage under Sam’s withering gaze.

Sam continues his intense searching into his defiant brother’s eyes as well as he can in the dimness, “God.  I can’t even believe you sometimes Dean.  Of course it was worth it you idiot.  At least it is to me.  I don’t know about you though, I know I’m a burden and not much help these days.”

Breaking their staring contest, Dean shakes his head and looks down at their hands barely touching in the dimness, “Now who’s the idiot? Not what I meant Sam.  Not at all.  Of course it’s worth it, you think I’d rather have a comatose brother to look after?  I just meant, doing that, taking on Hell just to be with me, doesn’t seem worth it.”

All of a sudden it’s too much for Sam, hearing this from his brother, so he decides to lay it all out there, maybe he’ll listen for once, he grabs both of Dean’s hands in his, holding on tight, “Dean, look at me goddamn it! You can’t really think so little of yourself.  You ?  Not worth it?  Do you not by this point get what you mean to me?  Of course you’re worth it, why else do I ever do anything?  You’re worth everything to me.  You know that right?  I mean, I know you don’t like talking about shit like this, but seriously, Dean, it’s important that you really get that.  You are everything to me.”

Dean searches his brother’s face for any hint of teasing and sees that Sam’s dead serious, so he has no choice but to answer him honestly, “Alright, I get it Sam.  Same here, ditto whatever, and uh, thanks.  For doing that.”

“Doing what?” Sam asks, at a complete loss about what his brother is thanking him for.

Dean worms his arm around Sam so that he’s touching his back lightly, and hugs him gently, “Coming back like that, taking on Hell to be with me.”

Sam puts his arm around Dean in a similar way and squeezes him right back, “You’re welcome.  Thanks for dying for me and confronting Death to get my soul back.”

“Hah! You’re welcome bitch.  Thanks for jumping into the Cage to save the whole world.”  Dean hugs him back harder.

“Hilarious jerk! You’re welcome.  Thanks for killing Zachariah instead of saying “Yes” to Michael.”  Sam can’t help but laugh as he continues the hug war.

“Oh so very funny.  You’re welcome.  Thanks for not giving up on me, and us after we got back from Heaven.” Dean laughs too, as the breath is squished out of him.

“Ahem.  You’re welcome.  Thanks for selling your soul to bring me back to life.” Sam says, a little too seriously into Dean’s ear, while holding him close.

“I think that’s enough.  And you’re welcome. God the list of things we’ve done for each other is getting a little long.” Dean sighs heavily, not regretting any of the things he’s done to save Sam, knowing he’d do it all again if he had to, and that Sam would too.

“It’s too much to think of all at once like that isn’t it?” Sam says softly, searching Dean’s face for clues to what he’s thinking about all this caring and sharing, expecting it to end at any second.  And just really damn glad that the cell phone is still lit up enough so that he can see the soft shy smile and how it changes Dean’s whole face into something new.

They’re both quiet for awhile, just caressing each other’s backs lightly, the enormous comfort in these small touches in the dim, enclosed space too precious and tentative to talk about.

“Hey Sam, what did you see for us in the future then?” Dean continues rubbing small circles over Sam’s shoulders.

Sam’s pretty sure Dean can’t tell that he’s blushing furiously at this point, at least he hopes so anyways,

“Um, promise you won’t get mad or hate me Dean? “ Sam moves his hands down to hold Dean around the waist, his hands on Dean’s lower back.

“Sam, geez, you even have to ask at this point?” He huffs and slaps Sam lightly on the back.

Sam takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to bring up the vision again so he can describe it in enough detail for Dean to be able to see what he saw.  Sam hides his face against the side of Dean’s face, speaking softly into the stubble rough skin, “Okay then, in my vision I saw us living in a small, nice little house near a lake in the mountains.  Might have been the Cascades, looked like that kind of forest.  You were older than you are now, maybe ten years older, and you had a big stripe of grey hair and a lot more wrinkles.  Me too, I was a lot older.  We were holding hands and walking back to our house after fishing, looked like two trout maybe?  I was giggling because the fish I was carrying was about twice the size of yours and you were grumbling about it.  Our house had a big porch with a swing and a vegetable garden in the back.  There was a short gravel driveway and I could see that the Impala was parked in a small garage barn that also had some goats and chickens.   Our house was really comfortable inside, a couple of squishy couches, fireplace, a nice flat screen TV, and a big open kitchen.  But you know what the best part was Dean?”

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“What Sam?”(pleasetellmeplease)   Dean breathes out softly, completely wrapped up in picturing Sam’s vision.

Sam squirms so that his face is buried further into Dean’s neck too embarrassed to have the possibility for Dean to look him in the face, but with his arms still around Dean’s waist.  He whispers shyly, “Well, don’t kill me for this or anything, it was my vision telling me this stuff.  Um, the best part was our bedroom.  We had one enormous bed, finally a bed long enough for me, and it was so soft and comfortable, with actual nice new blue sheets and way too many pillows.  You had made the bed for us, and carved the headboard with S+D in a design that looked like our tattoos but with a heart inside the pentagram.”  

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“Oh gawd Sammy, I can practically hear you blushing.”  Dean smoothes his hands down Sam’s back, and keeps talking in a quieter different sort of voice, one filled with an emotion Sam can’t remember hearing before, it sounds like a love long left unspoken, “But I really like how that sounds.  A whole lot actually.”

Sam’s breath hitches on a quiet sudden sob that Dean is surprised to hear, he rubs his brothers’ shoulders asking, “Hey, what’s up? Why are you crying, aren’t you happy? Damnit I wish I could see your face better right now.”

Sam hugs him tightly, surprising him with the suddenness and strength of the hug, finally raising his head up from Dean’s neck and looking him in the eyes again, “I am, I really am happy,   I just can’t believe you maybe are too. Finally.”

“What do you mean finally?”

“Well, all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy Dean, in whatever way you wanted it to be.”

“Me too Sam, duh, of course.  So what’s the big deal?”

“I guess it’s just that we haven’t ever talked about the future.”

“Never seemed to be much point, always saving each other or stopping the world from ending, kinda interrupted me from thinking too far into the future you know?” Dean shrugs, belatedly realizing that Sam thinks they should have been talking about this stuff all along.

“Have you ever even thought about your future, or our future?  I have, all the time, and I just never thought you’d want to be together with me like that and I’m happy now that I know you do.  At least that’s what I think you meant right?” Sam practically holds his breath until he hears his brother’s answer to this crucial question because oh god, what if Dean hadn’t meant what Sam thought he heard him say. (pleaseohpleaseyouwantthistoo).

“Yeah, yeah that’s what I meant.”  He squeezes Sam closer in a full on hug, taking his turn to rest his head on Sam’s chest.   All these years of thinking he was alone in being so messed up, to finally know that Sam feels the same way is so freeing and beyond awesome.  “C’mon dude, duh! Whenever I did think of my future, it was our future.  Who else gets me or what I’ve been through like you?  Some chick I meet in a bar is never going to be able to understand all that full-on crazy shit our lives have been made up of. “

“Me too Dean.  Always. Never saw myself with anyone else.  You’re the only one that makes sense, that’s real to me.“ Sam hugs Dean even closer although that seemed impossible a minute ago.

“Sammy do you think this vision of yours will really happen or is it just a dream?” (pleaselovemetooohplease) Dean asks hesitantly trying to hold the hope he feels swelling in him out of his voice and failing miserably.

“Yeah , it feels like a real true vision of what’s to come, one of the real  ones.   It’s different than the death omen dreams, it’s hard to explain, but I can feel it really deeply, not like a regular dream.   I saw so many details that rang true, yeah Dean I think it means it really will happen.  Hey, this is a good thing right?” Sam pulls back from the hug and gently tips Dean’s chin up with one finger so he can see Dean’s eyes.

Dean lets out an exasperated noisy breath and reaches for Sam’s hand, entwines it with his and pulls it to his lips, pressing gentle kisses to Sam’s palm.  He places their hands over his heart. “Definitely a good thing.   The best thing.  Now how exactly are we going to get out of here because I’m not seeing much of a future for us stuck in this box?  How else am I going to make you that girly bed anyways?”

Dean twists his head up slightly looking for some way of escape he might have missed before and his lips brush against Sam’s cheek.  They freeze for the barest of moments and then slowly seek each other’s warm lips.  They press together, just a dry friction, no tongue, a reassurance more than a kiss.  This is then the turning point, the entranceway to Sam’s vision.  Right here in this moment they both feel those dreams of the future inescapably interweaving, finally forming the right pattern.  After all these years of studious and fierce denial, their choice lies before them. 

Sam draws back and swallows loudly, “This is what you want right?  You’re not just kissing me out of guilt or pity?”

Dean smiles up at him, a half-lidded besotted look on his face, “Would you give that big brain of yours a rest and kiss me already.  Damn a guy could die waiting on you to finish thinking everything through.”

Dean closes his eyes and leans up waiting for a kiss he knows will be coming, but first he can hear Sam’s smile.  He would swear he can see it, even with his eyes closed, big white teeth and those cavernous dimples, the sparkling eyes.  He feels Sam lean down once again and this time it is no reassuring chaste kiss.  This is one for the record books like in that Princess Bride movie they both secretly love.  Not that he is the girl or anything, but damn this is the most romantic kiss he’s ever been a part of and damn now he’s thinking too much.  He throws himself fully into this kiss answering all of Sam’s unasked questions with all the passion and love and want and will he can muster. 

Sam gasps for breath after a while and shivers all over. “Wow, if you keep kissing me like that I don’t think I care too much anymore about getting out of here anytime soon.”

“Hmmmm, I guess it will help us pass the time until we figure something out. Just let me try this, I’ve always wanted to see what you tasted like here …” Dean kisses his way down Sam’s throat and back up to his ear, softly breathing and gently swirling his tongue around the outer shell, finally nipping and sucking on the tender skin just behind his ear.  Sam groans deeply and helplessly cants his hips forward aligning his hips with his brother’s, a grinding motion starting up between them.

“What. Um. Do you mean, always wanted to see?  Have you been thinking about this for long?” Sam asks as he takes a turn at kissing down Dean’s neck and back up to his ear, where he grabs onto his earlobe with his teeth biting and pulling gently. 

Dean shivers all over and groans out “Been thinking about it for way too long. Embarrassing really.  But yeah, I have been.” 

Sam continues to bite and lick Dean’s neck, “How long ago did you first think about it? I just want to know if it goes back as far for you as it does for me.” 

Dean sighs, groans, and pushes forward with his hips trapping Sam between the wood and his steadily thickening cock, with little hip thrusts he starts up a rhythm that Sam opens up his legs as much as he’s able to, in order to appreciate it even more.  It’s so unfair that Sam’s asking him to talk about this stuff at a time like this, but he’s going to just go all in here, no more purpose in holding back from the honesty his brother seems to need right now.

  “I can’t believe you want to do this right now, but fine, it started for me the year before you left for Stanford.  All of a sudden I noticed you’d turned into a man while I wasn’t paying attention or something.  I couldn’t be around you without having these thoughts and urges and that was why I started not hanging out with you so much.  I couldn’t do that to you, I couldn’t mess you up even more.  I could tell you wanted to leave the life, and leave me, so I didn’t want to start something with you, wouldn’t have been much point, right? But when I came back and got you to look for Dad, it was even worse, because you’d grown up so much and weren’t just my little Sammy anymore.  It’s been a hard (hah!) few years being together with you, looking and not touching, seeing you be with other people.” 

Sam leans down and kisses him on the cheeks and the eyelids and finally brushes his lips softly, embraces him tightly and begins rubbing his hands up and down his lower back to the beginning of the curve of his ass.  “All this time, all you ever had to do was ask.  That was a big reason why I left for Stanford, I felt so much for you, and I knew it was screwed up, but I couldn’t stop wanting you.  Leaving was like cutting out half my heart, I never felt right without you.  I tried so hard to figure out another life so you wouldn’t ever have to know about your sick little brother.  But it didn’t work, I loved Jess, as much as I could, but you were always there between us.  Always Dean.  And when you came back for me, it was a hundred times worse because I could make that comparison.  You’ve always been it for me.  And watching you these six years now with all those other people has been so hard, but I’m stubborn and now I’m definitely delusional at least part of the time, so I’ve been waiting for you to figure it out.”

Dean swats him on the ass “Why didn’t you just say something? We could’ve been together all this time.  Maybe it all would have turned out differently.” 

Sam swats him back a good one “Oh I think the selling your soul for me, going to hell and heaven and back again and fighting against Lucifer and going into the cage and out again would have all happened.  Besides we beat the angels and demons with the power of our love you know .” 

“Wait, what do you mean?“  Dean worms both his hands onto Sam’s chest and begins stroking his torso up over his ribs, circling and pinching his nipples through his shirts.  Dipping back down to try and raise them up, Sam lifts up so that they can be shoved up into his armpits, Dean feels the warm skin of his brother finally, the way he’s always wanted, not when he’s having to stitch him up or reset his arm back into the socket, warm and soft and real and true under his hands like he’s always needed it to be.

“When Lucifer was beating you to death, the thing that let me get control finally was all the memories of our life that were bound up in the Impala.  It was the damndest thing, you know that army man that’s stuck in the ashtray in the back seat? It caught my eye and this cascade of our greatest hits just flew through me and blasted his control away.  You and me brother, and how we’ve been together all our lives was what saved the world.  It’s as simple as that.” 

Sam reaches down and captures Dean’s face turning it up for another soul filling kiss, as deep as those past memories go, the well of desire for this in the now, in the present, is so strong it would have knocked him over if he hadn’t been lying down.  Getting to finally kiss his brother like this is such a gift, so moving and overwhelming and he wishes he could get inside Sam’s skin to feel him even closer.

Dean moves his hands down off Sam’s chest between their groins and begins stroking his brother’s hard length through his jeans, Sam groans into his mouth and kisses him harder, more passionately, the wanton movement of his hips increasing.  “Why didn’t you ever tell me this, how you won? Don’t you think I would’ve wanted to know that?” 

Catching his breath, but still pressing and moving into his brother’s grip, he tries to answer as clearly as he can, “Sorry, something about having no soul made me forget I guess, and then we were onto everything else and you never asked and I thought I’d just keep it to myself, for myself.  But I’m glad you know now, it feels even more important that you understand what you mean to me, what we mean.”

Dean can’t help but smile to hear that they really are on the same page, “Well, I’m glad I finally know it now.  It makes what Ash said make more sense.”

“You mean the soul-mate thing?” Sam asks, hoping that’s what Dean’s talking about, but honestly more interested in trying to find as many places on Dean as possible that will make him shiver and groan like that.  He already can’t get enough of hearing him make those noises.

“Yeah, the soul-mate thing.  Guess it’s really true.” Dean answers, knowing that’s the last thing he’ll be able to say that makes any sense because everything feels too good and too right and he wants to concentrate on giving Sam as much pleasure as they can manage in this damn box.

“Yes, oh oh, yes, guh” Sam can’t complete a coherent sentence because of how overwhelmingly good it all feels, touching Dean everywhere he can manage to reach.

“No more talking.” Dean manages to growl.

“One more thing.” Sam barely gasps out.

All Sam hears in response is a loud growl from Dean, vibrating and rumbling through his chest.

“It’s gotta be just me from now on.  I couldn’t stand it otherwise.” Sam says as clearly and firmly as he can.

Dean stops moving his hips and gently grasps Sam’s face in his hands, “Yeah, okay, just you.  Same with you okay?”

Sam reaches up and holds one of Dean’s hands, squeezing it gently, “Only you Dean.”

Dean’s only answer is another deep groan. 

Sam holds Dean’s shoulders tightly and slowly grinds his hips against him, slotting their cocks into the grooves that seem meant for each other, rocking back and forth. “I wish I could see all of you, and feel you without all these clothes in the way, but there isn’t room.  I want you so much, in every way, you in me, me in you, Everything, I want it all. Waited so long. ”  

Dean grins his agreement “Yeah, me too man, me too.” He manages to walk his hands down from Sam’s waist to the button and flies on his jeans, undoing each one slowly, until just thin cotton boxers are between  his hand and Sam’s now very wet cock.  He also undoes his own, the worn denim soft, releasing the buttons easily, while he’s there, pushing down both of their jeans below their asses.  And now that barrier of cloth between them is just so thin, it might as well not be there.

“Can you get our boxers down too somehow?” Sam lifts up hopefully and Dean pulls down both of their boxers at the same time.  They gasp as their hot cocks and groins slap together finally.  And this feeling of flesh on flesh, after all these years of wanting, and being joined after such a long separation begins building up between them.  Sam feels the energy swirl and rise and he tries to grab for it in his mind as they grind together, so close now to pulling each other over the edge.  He really concentrates on grabbing hold of it, just so he can remember it for always, this all-important first time, but that concentration switches something on, deep inside him, and his latent psychic powers grasp and hold onto that energy and it pushes through him and out of him.

The pace quickens then between them, Sam reaching down between them, and barely able to hold onto both of their now-slippery cocks sliding against each other, that delicious friction building up.  Both of them wishing there was more room, more light, more air.  But they don’t need it, they’re complete with each other, nothing else needed as they both spiral up to their climax and fall together into bliss almost at the same time, Sam feels something in his mind at that tipping point, something he can feel in every single cell in his body. 

Something that says over and over in a clear ringing resonant tone:

“Together. Complete. Open.  Out.  Free.”

 The power is concentrated and released  and suddenly blows the top off of the box that they have been contained in, it flies up together with all the soil and grass and they can look up and see the clear blue cloudless sky. 

And then there they are.

Lying together in the open air the bright sunshine blanketing them from above. 

giftbox icon1*~*~*Masterpost *~*~*gift box icon4Chapter 2




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