sketchydean

smalltrolven

The Wanting Comes In Waves

All Sam/Dean, All The Time


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smalltrolven

Fic: Full Wolf Moon (Sam/Dean NC-17) Part 2 of 2

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Sam finds himself outdoors again at the next full moon, out on Bobby’s back porch, drinking tea. He’s restless, can’t sleep, worrying about Dean out there in that little cabin with all this early snow. And there’s a wolf howling. It’s probably the cool one that he and Tracy had met before. But what if it’s not Fridolf? That thing was freaking huge. And Dean had seemed so unlike his old hunter self. Like he might not be prepared for anything and everything. What if Dean was in danger right now? He checks that Tracy is deeply asleep and slips out the back door, heading off into the woods with a large knife, pulling on his jacket, gloves and hat as he goes.

Sam stops when he hears the wolf howl again. Close. Very close. The eerie sound ricochets off the metal of all the shed buildings. Sam shivers at the sound and clenches his fist around the handle of the knife. He really hopes it’s the tame wolf from before. He breaks out into the clearing near Dean’s cabin and meets the wolf’s eyes. It’s standing on Dean’s doorstep. The green eyes glow and ensnare him, he walks towards the wolf, wishing he could stop himself and also wanting to throw his arms around it and never let go. Why would he think that? The thing could kill him.

“Hey, boy, hey. You leavin’ my brother alone?” Sam asks. He takes off one glove and holds that hand out for the wolf to sniff at like the world’s biggest labrador retriever.

The only answer he gets is the wolf licking his hand with a huge rough tongue. The shock of the wetness and soft tongue makes him gasp. The wolf looks up at him sharply, green eyes assessing.

“It’s okay, you just surprised me,” Sam says, scratching at the wolf’s head behind his ears. The wolf makes a harrumphing noise that reminds him so much of Dean it makes his head spin.

“So why are you hanging around here, boy?” Sam asks, sinking his hand into the deep fur ruff at the back of the wolf’s neck.

The wolf sits back on his haunches and tilts his head as if he’s considering. He thumps his head on the door of the cabin three times.

“Should we see if Dean is here? You know him, boy?” Sam asks, feeling silly calling the wolf boy, but what else should he call him? He probably doesn’t actually answer to Fridolf.

Sam raps his knuckles on the door several times but hears no one moving inside. He pushes the primitive door open and the wolf bounds inside, heading for the fireplace hearth. Sam pokes around, examining what his brother’s house looks like on the inside. It’s very neat and organized, and more spare than he’d pictured. There’s a small pallet, a camp stove, their old green cooler and a lantern. Dean’s been living like a hermit or a monk out here with no explanation for it. What the hell happened to him? And why won’t Bobby or Dean explain it to him? There must be a reason. And why does the wolf seem to know his way around Dean’s house so well?

He leaves Dean a note on the back of an ancient receipt from the nearby gas station, anchoring it under a big log on the hearth.

Hey Dean, I heard a wolf howling so I came out to make sure you were okay. Met him on your doorstop and he said I could come in. ~ Sam

Sam shoos the wolf outside and close the door firmly. As he walks back to Bobby’s house and his sleeping daughter he thinks about Dean holding her. What it would be like if Dean lived with them, how it would look if Dean fell asleep with her like he does himself sometimes. His heart does a strange flip at just the idea, like it’s readjusting itself to make room for something else he’ll never have.

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It’s not until the next day when Sam and Tracy are blowing bubbles in the clearing after lunch that Sam realizes that he hasn’t seen both of them together. The wolf and his brother that is. It’s always been one or the other. He hears a terrifying howl from one side of the clearing and a more familiar growl from the other, and then before he knows what’s happening, Dean bursts from the direction of the familiar growl, transforming into the wolf they know as Fridolf as he leaps across the downed trees towards some movement. Something big is crashing through the brush and there’s a ferocious howl and a lot of thrashing and then there’s red blood arcing through the sky. Sam’s most of the way back to Bobby’s house with Tracy clutched tightly to him before he realizes that the sounds have all stopped. Either his brother is dead or whatever the thing that was coming for them is. Dean had saved them.

He tries to make light of it with Tracy, she’s worried about the doggy. But he doesn’t think she saw Dean turn into the wolf. But he did, he knows he did. And he can’t decide if he’s more worried about Dean or angry with Dean. This is obviously the thing he’s been stalling on telling him about. It’s a long evening of avoiding a conversation about this with Bobby and waiting for Tracy to fall asleep enough for him to make his way back out to Dean’s cabin.

He breathes several times when he sees the lights in Dean’s place, conscious of how relieved he is to know his brother is alive. He walks as loudly as he can so that Dean has some warning that he’s coming. Who knows, he might have super hearing or scent or whatever. He’s lifting his hand to knock on the rough wooden door when Dean opens it.

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean says, stepping back to let Sam come into the cabin.

Sam rolls his eyes and ducks through the low doorway. Dean points him to the pile of bedding on the floor, it’s the only place to sit, so he does. Dean paces back and forth in front of the fireplace, familiar bowed legs flickering in and out of the firelight.

Sam waits for Dean to say something, god anything at this point. Finally he huffs in frustration and decides to just ask. “So what are you, Dean? Werewolf, or skin changer, or what? And why did you think that it was okay for you to be around my daughter without telling me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sammy,” Dean says with an infuriating nonchalance. “You ought to keep your damn daughter safe.”

“Keep your damn wolf-self away from my daughter! I saw you change, Dean! So stop lying to me!”

“Fine, I’ll tell you. Just sit down wouldja? And stop yelling,” Dean says, handing Sam a beer from the cooler. He leans against the stones of the fireplace with his own beer and drinks half of it. Dean paces a little bit more and finally sits down next to his brother.

Dean clears his throat and looks out the window that’s all the way across the small room. “The week after your birthday, Dad and I were on that hunt, remember? And I was too slow, I got bitten. Yeah, obviously it was a werewolf. Dad sent me away when he realized it. He didn’t let me say goodbye to you, made me take off before we even came back to the town where you were waiting for us.”

“I don’t understand, Dean. Why would you just do that?”

“He threatened to kill me if I ever came near you again. He didn’t want you to know what I was because it would have messed your life up.”

“You were just nineteen, Dean.”

“Yeah, and you had just turned fifteen.”

“I didn’t know why you left or where you were. Dad wouldn’t say a thing about you, just that I wouldn’t ever see you again. That’s why I ended up living with Bobby, without you around to referee, Dad and I fought way too much.”

“I know. I was here,” Dean says, sipping at his beer.


“Wait, so you’ve been out here, the whole time? Living here in this cabin, right by Bobby’s? While I was growing up without my brother?”

“Yeah. I was keeping an eye on you. Bobby kept me supplied with the basics so I wouldn’t have to turn into an uncontrollable were. I patrolled for other were-creatures or other potential threats to you and Bobby. I stayed behind when you went to California.”

“What did you do while I was gone?” Sam asks, draining most of his beer bottle while he’s watching Dean .

Dean drinks the rest of his beer and sets the bottle down against the wall. “Well, I knew I finally had to try and live my own life, strange as it had become. I tried to integrate with the nearest werewolf pack over in the Black Hills forest, but since I don’t kill humans, and I’d been a loner for too many years…let’s just say it didn’t work out.”

“All this time I thought you’d left because I tried to kiss you, when you got me stoned that first time,” Sam says, heart in his throat just saying the words out loud.

Sam waits for Dean to say something, but his brother just sits there, eyes still as green as ever, wide and filled with some un-nameable emotion.

Sam feels the silence stretch between them. “I tried to forget, but I couldn’t,” Sam says, imagining that first kiss, after years of pining. Sam had tried to forget his obsession, but it never worked, he always dreamed of that kiss, imperfect as it had been. He remembered every detail. He wished he could tell Dean all of that, make him understand.

Dean still doesn’t say anything, so Sam starts to stand. There is no reason for him to stay any longer if Dean isn’t going to participate in the conversation.

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The wolf in him hasn’t shut up since he’d first scented Tracy or for that matter, Sam. It’s something more than a pull towards human family, it’s that feeling of pack that Dean has never felt before but he’s always known he was missing. It’s the wolf that pushes him to finally speak.

“I remember, Sammy. That kiss was the only thing I did remember when I first turned,” Dean says, desperate to make it right between them, make Sam understand.

At this point, Dean realizes he could say something and put this off on Dad figuring out there was something between them and making him leave. But he can’t do that. He can’t lie about that part of it. That’s the only thing that he’s kept for himself from his former life. That one sweet kiss that a teenage Sam had given him had been the only memory he allowed himself to replay from his human life. The love he’d felt for Sam, that he still feels, is the strongest, deepest, purest feeling he has besides his wolf self. He can’t sully that with a lie, even though Sam would likely believe it. Because if their dad had ever suspected, he’d have at least separated them, and likely would have killed Dean.

Sam is still there, he hasn’t left, although it’s a near thing and Dean knows it. Dean moves closer to Sam and noses along the side of his cheek and behind his ear. “Sammy, you being so brave to kiss me like that, so sweet and perfect, the memory of it has kept me…me all this time.”

Suddenly the nearness of Sam, the scent of him, the heat of him overwhelms Dean with the pull towards pack and mate that he has never felt before. Maybe he’s been alone for so long that he’s lost some of the human inhibitions that would have stopped him before he became a were. It seems like the only choice left is to kiss Sam then instead of telling the lie that would let Sam walk back out of his life untethered.

When their lips meet, Dean feels the familiar surge of the wolf inside him, wanting to surface, to claim, to take, to have. He stuffs it down though, willing it away so that he can feel this on a human level. He owes that to Sam and to himself, he manages to think before Sam has them laid out flat on his bedding. Sam’s got him pinned and is biting and licking at his neck like he’s the one that’s the werewolf.

“Sammy, you gotta stop that. The neck thing, it makes me lose control of the wolf, it’s like an instinct or something.”

Sam chuckles against the skin of his neck, the vibration he feels through his body seems to coalesce in his groin. “I was kinda hoping that would happen.”

Dean growls deep in his throat, letting his wolf have its say. Sam’s face pops up into view and his eyes are both terrified and turned-on. “You’re not gonna turn, right?”

Dean flips him then because he’s not expecting it, and answers Sam with a sharp nip to his Adam’s apple. Sam squirms under him, grinding their hardnesses together in the most distracting way. Dean’s hips start up a rutting rhythm that is mostly instinct and he tries to stop himself.

“No, don’t stop, I like it like that,” Sam murmurs, he looks like he’s already been fucked, gone loose and pliant under Dean’s hands.

Just hearing that makes Dean groan with anticipation. He sits back on his heels and strips his shirt off and undoes his jeans, he wriggles out of them and throws them off towards the fire. Sam’s taking his clothes off, but Dean’s hands stop him. He slowly unbuttons Sam’s flannel shirt and pushes up the t-shirt underneath up into his armpits. Sam’s whole torso is bared to the firelight and it looks so edible, so tasty that he just has to lick it. His tongue finds one of Sam’s nipples and worries at it until Sam begins to squirm again, breathing hot and heavy against Dean’s arm. He switches over to the other one just to be fair and thorough and Sam loses it, writhing and moaning in pleasure.

Dean finally stops tormenting him, just long enough to strip Sam’s clothes off, slowly, piece by piece, touching and tasting every bit of skin that’s revealed. Sam is incoherent with pleasure now, he seems overwhelmed and Dean’s senses tell him that it’s now or never. He leaves the pile of blankets that is his bed for a moment, rustling around in his kitchen supplies for the small bottle of olive oil. When he comes back to the bed, he stops because he sees all of Sam, laid out for him. His beautiful brother lit only by the fire and by the heat and desire pouring off of him in pulsing waves that seem to be synced with the slow stroking of Sam’s hand on his hard cock.

“Sammy you look like a fuckin’ porn star right now,” Dean says, instantly regretting his words because his brother is so much more than that, beauty and grace and power all wrapped up in his perfect form.

Sam smiles though, big and open and so devastatingly sexy. “Come over here and I’ll show you.” He opens his legs up wide, making a space for Dean on the bed. Dean’s kneeling there between his brother’s legs, slicking him up with the olive oil, creating a space inside Sam that will only be his.

Dean enters Sam slowly, both of them moaning with the pleasure and pain of their joining. He rests for a moment once he’s finally all the way inside Sam, braced on his forearms over his brother. He softly kisses Sam in all his favorite places, thrilled that he already knows that somehow, his lips, his moles, behind his ears, under his neck. Sam starts moving underneath him in impatient little movements of his hips.

“So impatient,” Dean scolds, beginning to move with the motion of Sam’s hips.

“Shut up and fuck me, Dean,” Sam orders, grabbing both of Dean’s ass cheeks in his enormous hands and pulling him in deep and hard.

That makes Dean laugh. Sam is all of a sudden the bossy little brother he’s missed more than breathing, right here, and all his again. Finally all his. He growls with the thrill of that idea of possession and begins to fuck Sam as he requested, setting a pace that’s as exhilarating as a run through the forest under the full moon. He wants to howl with how damn good it feels, to finally be home where he belongs. Finally inside his mate.

Sam molds himself to Dean, holding on as best as he can, letting the power of Dean’s thrusts carry him over the cliff. He comes back to himself, now laid out flat on his stomach and Dean is biting the back of his neck so hard he feels there must be blood. Dean is growling and it’s not just Dean, the wolf is there with them and the wolf is inside Dean who’s inside him and he knows that he’s the wolf’s now, and he’s Dean’s at the same time and it’s all perfect, all the things he always wanted. And that’s all he knows until it all grays out into a comfortable haze where he’s floating. Dean is the only thing holding him to the world, tethered to this bed.

The last thing he hears is Dean whispering, “Mine. You’re mine now, Sammy.”

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“Bobby, you in here?” Dean asks, knocking on the open kitchen door.

“Dean!” a small voice shrieks and comes closer along with the pounding of tiny feet. Dean’s legs are wrapped up in Tracy’s arms before he can move and he has to steady himself against the doorframe. He reaches down to hoist her up onto his hip and looks around the kitchen. The coffee is almost gone, and the breakfast dishes are in the sink.

“You idjits are really set on moving out to Whitefish this week, huh?” Bobby asks.

“Hey, Bobby. Mornin’, yeah, we are. Why, that a problem?”

“Naw, I’m just gonna miss that one,” Bobby says, clocking a finger at the squirming bundle of Tracy in Dean’s arms. Dean squeezes her tight until she protests, he lets her down to the floor and she runs over to Bobby and yanks on his shirt sleeve.

“Grandpa Bob-bee, want up.”

Bobby sighs and makes a big production out of lifting her up into his arms, but Dean sees the change come over the old man’s face. It’s like the sun has come out brighter and cheerier than is possible in the real world. “It’s not that far, Bobby. ’s not like California or somethin’, right? You can come visit us anytime.”

Bobby presses his face into Tracy’s unruly curls, Dean can hear him breathe in and out deeply. “Yeah, that’s true. At least I’ll know where y’all are.”

“Is Sam around?” Dean finally asks, because it seems strange that he’s not there with them at this time of day.

“He took my truck into town, something about transferring his law school credits to the University of Montana. I believe it’s down in Missoula.”

“That’s his plan. He thinks there’s a need for a lawyer that knows about hunters. Maybe he’s right, I don’t know. But hell, I’m not complaining. I couldn’t have moved to California with him, you know?”

“I know, Dean. It seems like a good compromise. But you have to promise me that you’ll baby proof that damn cabin of Rufus’, okay? I’m countin’ on you to keep my lil’ darlin’ here safe.”  Bobby jostles Tracy up and down so that she squeals with excitement and holds on tighter.

“Sure, sure, you got it,” Dean says, smiling at the sight of how happy they both are together.

“I got something for you, boy. That car of Sam’s, the one he showed up in. It’s not gonna make it even as far as Sturgis. So c’mon with me,” Bobby says, shoving out through the back door into the cold morning sunlight.

After they get Tracy bundled up and grab their jackets, Bobby leads Dean to the back of the salvage yard and pulls a tarp off of a vehicle. Dean gasps at the sight of the shining low-slung black beauty. His Dad’s car. He’d always coveted it, thought it would be his eventually, but then cars hadn’t been too important to him for ten years now. But this, Sam was going to flip over getting to have this.

“Bobby, it’s…it’s too much. I can’t take this,” Dean says, watching his own hand stroke the curve of the front fender like it remembered it all better than he did. He realizes he hasn’t thought about this car in a very long time, but it all floods back to him, their lives lived within the confines of this metal box. Flying through the backroads of the whole damn country, Dad blaring his rock music, Sam always curled up into his side.

“I don’t want you drivin’ my girl around in Sam’s clunker, so you’re takin’ it, end of story,” Bobby says with finality.

Dean nods and then grins widely at Bobby, still holding onto Tracy. “I bet she’ll love it, Sam will too. Want to see inside our new car, Tracy?”

“Boo-ful car, Dean, boo-ful.”

“Yeah, it is, baby, it always has been,” Dean says, sitting in the driver’s seat with Tracy on his lap. She puts her little fists around the steering wheel and tries to move it, making car noises with her lips. Dean laughs and adds some of his own. They’re making such a racket they don’t hear Sam’s approach but they do hear his booming laughter.

Sam bends down and asks through the open window, “You driving already, Tracy?”

“We go fast, Daddy,” Tracy says, grinning over the steering wheel at her father.

“Bobby’s trading us your car for this one,” Dean says. “But you’re driving her, I’m way too out of practice.”

Sam nods with a big smile at the idea of getting to drive his family in this car that’s always been theirs. He straightens up and looks over the hood at Bobby. “Man, I had no idea this car was still even around. Thanks, Bobby.”

“It doesn’t make up for keeping all of it from you all these years, but I hope it helps. I wish I’d never kept that promise I made to your Daddy.”

Sam crosses around the car to stand next to his adopted father. He slings one arm around him in a half-hug. “Bobby, I forgive you, of course I do. It meant everything to me that you stepped up when Dad couldn’t deal. And that you were the one that was proud of me for getting into Stanford. Now that I have a kid of my own, I get it, I do.”

Bobby looks up at him with relief. “You’ve always been one deep little bastard, Sam.”

“Daddy a bas-tud,” Tracy says solemnly, breaking the silence. All three of the grown-ups laugh because they know she’s going to end up being one of those kids that swears, no matter how much they try to watch their language around her.

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When they take off in a fully packed Impala a few days later, Sam driving, and Dean in the front, Tracy strapped into her car seat in the back, Metallica playing on the tape deck, it’s like the past and present have merged into the most unexpected future they never imagined possible. Sam knows it’s not going to be easy commuting to law school and trying to figure out how to live together. Especially since one of them is a werewolf. But the years they missed out on sharing need to be made up somehow. And this seems like their chance.

~The End~


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Boo-ful fic! ;) I enjoyed it very much ♥

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