Word Count: 4,500
Warnings: Set after 8.15, so mid-season 8 spoilers.
Author’s Note: Another previously established relationship being re-kindled fic brought on by the inspiration of the Bat Cave.
Summary: Something’s got to get built, because Dean’s just not going to park Baby outside the Bat Cave forever in the elements.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words.
Read it over at AO3 right here.
Pushing his way through the cluttered storeroom towards the small door, Sam hears what sounds like construction sounds. Some power tool going loudly, and what sounds like boards being dropped. He opens the door, blinking against the pale bright winter sunlight, “Dean what in the world are you doing out back here?”
Dean doesn’t stop moving the long boards he was holding, “Building a garage. Tired of parking her down on the street by the other entrance.”
Sam watches his brother move around the small construction site, marveling at all the materials and tools Dean has amassed in such a short amount of time, “Where’d you get all this stuff?”
Without looking up because he’s juggling two boards now, Dean answers, “A lot of it was already here, got the wood last time I went into town.”
Sam tries to picture wood tied on top of Dean’s baby or sticking out the windows, but doesn’t want to ask, he is just surprised that Dean has been doing all this and he hasn’t even noticed. He’s been so immersed in cataloging and researching to help Kevin he’s barely come up for air. Now he feels kind of badly for not pitching in and doing something, “Do you want any help?”
“No, I got it. You’re doin’ all that other stuff’s way more important.” Dean waves him off and turns back to measuring the wood he was about to saw through with what looks like a vintage power saw.
Knowing when he’s been dismissed Sam says, “Alright I’ll leave you to it then.”
Several hours go by, and Dean still hasn’t come back inside. Sam’s getting hungry for lunch, and usually Dean’s been the one cooking something. He heads back out through the small storeroom off the kitchen to the construction zone. “Wow, you’ve gotten pretty far already.” The four main posts are standing, anchored firmly in cement over the cement pad that was already there.
“Yeah, well, it needs to get done before it snows again. She won’t last if she’s sitting out in the elements like this. Plus, it’s probably better to have her out of sight so no one notices that we’re living here. Lebanon’s a really small town.”
“I know, I’m glad you know how to do all this. You want some lunch? I can bring it out to you.”
“Sure Sammy that’d be great.” Dean says without looking up from the bags of cement he’s moving over to the old blue wheelbarrow.
Sam hasn’t really gotten to know their new kitchen very well. Dean’s pretty much staked it out as his own domain and has seemed to be having actual fun cooking. So it takes a while for Sam to work out where everything is, but after a bit he’s able to produce some pretty nice fried egg and cheese sandwiches. He puts them on a tray with a couple apples and two beers and walks out the back door to where Dean’s got what sounds like some power tool going again.
The noise is incredible, and Dean is wielding something with a terrifyingly giant spinning blade, obviously one of the larger power saws available. It’s bright orange and looks brand-new, so he guesses that it got purchased with the wood too. That saying ‘A boy and his toys’ is apparently true. Sam smiles to himself. He doesn’t want to startle Dean and make him cut his leg off or something stupid like that so he just pauses and watches until Dean’s done cutting the large beam through. The sun’s actually out today so it’s warmer than it’s been lately. Dean’s down to one t-shirt and Sam can see his back muscles moving and bunching through it.
The sight of Dean’s back, so perfect and muscled just right, not too much, but firm and hard enough to make him feel safe when he’s holding him makes Sam sigh a little inside. He’s missed that so much. Just being held. Sure he misses the sex of course, who wouldn’t? He and Dean used to practically set the bed on fire. But he’d give a whole lot just to get to have those strong arms around him just once more, preferably all night so when he wakes up he can turn around and kiss Dean awake like he used to. Oh who is he kidding? Dean doesn’t want that anymore, it’s useless teasing himself about it. Sam snaps himself out of his Dean-Trance and sees Dean staring at him.
There’s a look on Dean’s face that he hasn’t seen in a very long time, maybe sometime before Purgatory and after Bobby. Suddenly it changes to something almost verging into predatory. Sam’s stomach sinks, but in a good way, Oh god he saw me wanting him. He thinks, worrying that now he’ll have to explain himself.
Trying to cover for his blatant ogling, Sam asks, “Ready for a break?”
Dean grins, knowing that his brother knows he’s been caught out staring, “Yeah bring it over, we can sit on this.” He waves at the neatly stacked pile of lumber.
Sam moves forward and sets the tray down between them. He straightens up and Dean’s looking at him again. Out here in the bright sun, his face is flushed and up close now he can see a fine sheen of perspiration coating his skin, there are some actual drops on the side of his neck. Suddenly Sam is not hungry for the lunch he just made.
All he wants.
In this whole world.
Is to lean over and lick those drops off.
He hears, “Go ahead.” Come from Dean in that low sexy rumble he uses when they’re both turned on.
So without thinking or analyzing, he just does. He closes his eyes and leans over into Dean and licks right up the column of his neck, repeating the action several times just to get all the salt and flavor that he’s missed more than anything.
Dean groans at the touch of Sam’s tongue to his skin, feeling energized by the sheer want and need in Sam. He can’t help it, his brother has always done this to him, made everything feel so magnified, so much more in the slightest of touches. All the work he’s done keeping these feelings stowed away from himself since he’s been back is for nothing. It’s all right there for anyone to see. He really can’t do this anymore, the hunting thing, (the existing thing), without truly having Sam back with him.
Hovering near Dean, now that he’s done licking the sweat off his neck, Sam pauses, waiting for a sign or signal from Dean, not knowing what he wants or if he even wants anything is maddening. Finally he hears a quiet, “Don’t stop.”
Sam licks up to Dean’s ear, biting the lobe and tugging until he feels Dean squirm a little. He puts his hands on Dean’s hips to hold him steady and nuzzles into the soft spot behind his ear, first he licks the sweat up, that flavor burst of Dean on his tongue is tantalizing. Then he sucks and bites a little in the place that was always the signal, like leaving a bat signal light on, come get me, anytime. He feels Dean go almost boneless under the weight of his hands.
Dean’s loud sigh is full of regret and longing and wishing it had all been different, but it’s like exhaling that sigh pushed it all out of his body. Now he’s empty and ready for Sam to fill him back up again with the good stuff that should be there. Sam who’s right here. Dean reaches up and pulls Sam closer, holding on to his wide, broad shoulders. He opens his eyes because Sam’s stopped biting him and is looking down at him with this complex look of so many indescribable feelings, so much there on his familiar face, everything is written there for Dean to see. All the sorry’s never said but meant, all the time spent wishing everything were different, all the lust re-awakened at just these few touches. And that last is what Dean wants to focus on, at least right now, the other stuff will come. Eventually knowing Sam.
He smiles up at Sam, searching those familiar eyes that are more blue-green out in here in the sunlight than usual, “Well this sure isn’t the lunch I expected.”
“Want to eat while the food is still warm?” Sam asks, giving his brother an out, because even if he’s smiling, it doesn’t mean Dean wants anything more.
“Sure, but first, I want to do something.” Dean pulls Sam down into kissing range and skims their lips together lightly, then pressing harder. He licks across his brother’s lips until they part for him on a surprised intake of breath. Ah, so Sam didn’t think he’d get this, well then I better give it to him good then. Dean uses all the kissing techniques he knows are guaranteed to work on Sam, tangling and twisting their tongues together, licking the roof of Sam’s mouth and his gums, sucking on his tongue and then finishing with biting on his lower lip. Sam melts into him, it’s a good thing he was braced because suddenly his brother is really leaning hard on him.
That seems to be enough for now, not wanting to make this into something they can’t come back from. Just in case the reasons for not being together are more than they can get past. Dean pushes him up a bit and steps back. He sits down and takes one of the plates on his lap, looking up at Sam, “So this looks really good. You find everything in the kitchen okay?”
Sam comes back to himself when he hears Dean’s voice, shakes his head to get out of the Dean-trance he’d fallen into again, and sits on the other side of the tray.
“Yeah, couldn’t find the spices for a while, but I figured it out eventually.” He can’t stop staring at Dean though, sitting there munching the sandwich, chewing with his mouth open as usual, as if he hadn’t just completely rocked Sam’s world with just that one kiss. And yeah maybe it’s stupid that he’s so damned easy, but Dean’s always been able to do that. Sam can’t think past the tingling on his lips reminding him that Dean was just there. The taste is back. The one of him and Dean combined together, he hasn’t tasted this for he doesn’t even want to think about how long. Suddenly he’s lost his appetite for anything else.
“There’s definitely some funky cubbyholes in that kitchen. But it’s pretty awesome.” Dean realizes Sam’s not eating, just staring at him like he’s the only thing in the world ever worth looking at.
“Your sandwich is getting cold Sammy.” Dean says with a grin and one of those winks that kills Sam every time. The ‘I know I’ve gotten to you and there’s more where that came from’ look in his eyes gives Sam a chance to duck his head and blush a little.
He hates it and loves it at the same time. That Dean can do this to him with just a look. “I know. But I like how my mouth tastes right now.”
Dean rolls his eyes. “Just eat would you? There’ll be more, where that came from, don’t worry so much.”
Sam doesn’t say anything, just picks up his plate and starts eating, eyes never leaving Dean’s face. Wondering how in the world he’s lasted this long with having Dean there, but not in his arms.
“So I’ll need some help raising the main roof beam. Just tell me when you’re at a spot where you have like a half hour. It’s a whole lot easier with two people.” Dean smiles and finishes his sandwich in two more big bites. He pops open the beers and hands one to Sam.
“Whatever you need.” Sam says, offering more than just help with building a garage and they both know it. He tips his beer up to his lips and drinks in as suggestive a manner as he can manage. Loving the sight of Dean’s widening eyes he catches out of the corner of his eye.
Dean clears his throat like he’s suddenly having trouble swallowing normally, “Cool. Nice out today, glad you got your nose out of the books to get out in the sun for a while.”
“Me too. I see you’re enjoying not having three shirts and a jacket on for once.”
“Yeah, it got pretty hot there for a while.” Dean answers, referring to more than just the garage building and they both know it.
Sam grins when he hears Dean’s verbal teasing. The excitement of kissing earlier is magnified even more when he hears Dean talking this way. It means so much that he’s verbally sparring like everything’s how it used to be.
“Well if you get too hot, come inside, the shower will feel good.” Sam says after finishing off his beer, setting the bottle back on the tray.
“That depends.” Dean says, smiling around the neck of his beer bottle, drinking deeply, his eyes twinkling as they never leave Sam’s face.
“On what?” Sam asks absently, too engrossed in watching his brother’s throat swallowing down the beer.
“Whether you’re in it or not.” Dean answers, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously.
Sam laughs at his brother’s antics, he can’t help it. And it’s the kind of laugh that comes up from the bottom of yourself, pulling everything along with it. All the bad stuff that’s been lingering in your gut, bothering you, it all gets swept away, cleaned by the force of joy. That’s what his brother does for him, reminds him of that, and connects him to that source of joy that sustains. He’s going to need that to get through these trials. Dean in his corner, by his side, backing him up.
Dean’s so happy he’s made Sam laugh like this, he doesn’t get to hear this enough anymore, his brother letting loose and being happy for a little while. It makes it all that much more precious when he does. And maybe that’s why he says what he says when he’s able to stop his own uncontrollable laughing, “I’ve missed this.”
Sam stops laughing and just smiles at Dean, “Me too.” Meaning laughing together, kissing, reconnecting, everything, all of it. He’s missed it all so damned much he’s kind of overwhelmed thinking about it and about what lies ahead. “I need it Dean, I need this, to get through the Trials.” He indicates with his hand, the this, the whatever it is between them.
Of course Dean knows what he means, and with his ever present need to be needed for once in sync with his ever present need to give Sam whatever he needs, he finds himself leaping to accept Sam’s offer without a second thought to how bruised his heart still feels, “You’ve got it Sammy.”
Sam leans over the tray between them and kisses Dean softly, breathing a thank you into his brother’s mouth.
Instead of saying, you’re welcome which just would be ridiculous, Dean grabs the back of Sam’s head to hold him there and deepens the kiss, sealing in his promise that he’s in. For whatever Sam needs, friendly companionship or sex to get his mind off things or the deeper sort of lovemaking that they rarely indulge in. Anything he
promises with lips and teeth and tongue. The whispered word lingering on Sam’s tongue.
Sam pulls away from the embrace to look Dean in the eye, overjoyed to see that he means it, which erases all the traitorous thoughts of what Dean had said when he’d been hexed by that coin or later when they’d fought about Benny and Amelia. Suddenly all that’s gone, and what’s left is just them, two men who’ve spent a lifetime together rearranging themselves into whatever the other has needed, loving with their whole hearts the other who completes them.
And now it’s easy between them, everything slotting back into place, where no one is waiting for the next shoe to step out the slamming door. Sam stands up and stretches his arms wide, reaching towards the sun, pulling in that energy to store up for another session in their underground lair. Ever since Dean first named it the Bat Cave, he can’t stop thinking of it that way. He turns and sees Dean watching him and inwardly preens a little at the heat he sees in Dean’s eyes. “You really need to finish this project right now?” Sam asks, succeeding in not sounding too needy and desperate.
Dean decides right then and there to see if something more than kissing is a possibility, because it seems like if they don’t it now, he’s going to go a little crazy until it does. So he goes with an open-ended invitation to see if Sam’s on his wavelength, “Kinda, but I could be talked into taking a longer lunch break.”
Sam’s bemused smile can’t cover up the obvious wanting for something more to happen between them, “What would it take exactly?”
Dean leans back on his hands and spreads his legs wider in invitation, throwing a look up at Sam that’s one part challenge, one part hesitation, and three parts sheer lust.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Sam is kneeling in the sawdust between his brother’s wide-spread legs, running his hands up over the muscled, jeans-covered thighs. He leans in to kiss Dean, with no gentleness now, just a fierce want that’s had to wait for far too long. Their teeth clash and clack a little until they get back into the familiar patterns they’ve adopted over long years of knowing each other this way. I put my hand here, means your mouth goes there, which means my mouth then fits here, etc. Sam groans at the feeling of home that assaults him, this deep taste of Dean and sunlight and beer overwhelming him, making him lose a little control.
Dean puts his hands on Sam’s waist and pulls him in closer, stroking a little as if gentling a scared horse, he even chuckles a little as they part for a gasp of air, “whoa there tiger, no rush”
“Just..want to.” Sam pants out, regretting the breathlessness in his voice.
“Not going anywhere dude, relax.” Dean tries to reassure him, but he sees it’s pointless, that Sam needs this right here right now, and hey who is he to argue?
“No, don’t want to.” Sam says firmly, so that Dean knows he means it.
And Sam takes over then, pushing Dean’s t-shirt up roughly so that he can suck and bite at each of Dean’s nipples in turn, palming roughly at Dean’s swelling erection through his jeans. He growls a little, and is surprised at himself, but he wants those jeans off now. “Off.” He says in a strained voice, not able to put more than one word out at a time anymore. It’s all too much, feeling so intensely that he’s been waiting long enough already.
“Okay, hold on.” Dean stands up and undoes his pants slowly, loving the exasperation he sees cross Sam’s upturned face, he’s holding Dean behind the back of his thighs, as if he’s worried Dean’s going to walk away from this. Dean runs his hand through Sam’s sun-warmed hair, “really not going anywhere dude.” He repeats.
Sam’s body is shaking a little with barely controlled pent-up want and desire, and he reaches up to yank down Dean’s jeans and boxers He groans at the sight of Dean, so hard and ready, right there in front of his face. With him kneeling and Dean standing he’s at the perfect height to be able to lick not only Dean’s balls which he does first, slowly and carefully licking and suckling on each one in turn, but also able to spend some time on the little spot behind them that’s so sensitive on Dean he practically yelps when the feeling strikes him.
Sam pulls off and grins up at Dean. Their eyes meet and both are flashing amusement, hah very funny , keep going; desire, god I want this so much; and questioning, you want this too right? All of it non-verbally communicated because their link is finally back up and repaired.
Sam leans back in pulling Dean forward at the same time. Dean stumbles a little since his feet are trapped in his jeans. Sam’s got him though, rock solid below him, holding him steady as he noses his way up the soft inner thigh smelling the sweat and musk of a Dean who’s been working outside. Finally sensing that he’s about to get hit or something if he teases anymore, he licks up the entire length of Dean’s straining cock. Stopping at the tip to swirl his tongue lazily around the tip. He raises up a little higher on his knees to be able to get Dean all the way inside his mouth, well most of the way. It’s been a while.
Sam loses control when he hears the noises Dean is making, the groans and moans, and whispered Sammy’s are the music he’s been wanting to hear for more than a year. He sucks even harder, working Dean in deeper and deeper each time he moves up and down his hard length. He can feel Dean’s heartbeat pulsing through him, so he increases the suction even more, connecting them so deeply they’ll never come apart again. Finally he gets Dean all the way in, remembering how to open his throat and let him in. He’s hazily surprised at how easy it was to remember how to do this, being so out of practice. There’s not too many other things like this to remember in his life. How to best get Dean off and drive him crazy is a how-to he’ll never completely forget.
“So good Sammy, just like that, don’t stop.” Dean says, his hips hitching forward in little pulses, as if he’s barely controlling himself, although Sam can feels Dean’s ass tightening up in his hands which tells him how much Dean is really holding back.
He goes for the thing that will put Dean over the edge and slicks up one of his fingers with the spit that’s running down Dean’s balls now. He gets that wet finger up to the edge of Dean’s hole, working it in slowly until Dean’s whole body tightens and contracts as he comes. Filling Sam’s mouth with all the consuming warmth he’s been craving. All that salty sour slick that’s Dean’s to give.
Sam takes it all, like he’s been starving for it, licking him clean until Dean tugs him off with a muttered, “enough, that’s good Sammy.”
Dean holds Sam’s face in his hands, looking down at him with such awe and tenderness that Sam feels for a second like Dean’s about to bless him or give him communion or a gift or something. Thunderstruck, maybe that’s the word to describe Dean’s face.
Holding his brother’s face, Dean realizes he’s feeling awed that Sam remembered exactly what he likes and needs and gave it to him without hesitation or question. Almost as if they’d never missed a day since the last time they’d done this. He runs his hands through Sam’s hair again, reveling in how soft and warm it is in the sun, and pulls Sam up, feeling suddenly strange that he’s down there on his knees in the sawdust and construction debris. He brings Sam in close and kisses him, licking the taste of himself off of Sam’s lips first, and then out of all the corners of Sam’s mouth, until the taste between them matches just like it should. He feels so sated and kind of perfect all of a sudden, like he could do anything, build a garage, fly to the moon and back before dinner.
Then he remembers, he didn’t give Sam anything back. His eyes fly open, “you uh, want me to?”
Sam chuckles into his neck where he’s got his face buried again. “Don’t need to, all taken care of.” And that makes Dean groan again, his knees just about buckling at the thought of Sam coming in his pants, practically untouched. Sam getting off on him coming is pretty much the hottest thing ever. “Love it when you do that Sammy.”
“Can’t complain. But I gotta go clean up now.” Sam says, straightening up a little and running his hands up Dean’s back, but sounding like he’s reluctant to even think about leaving Dean’s side.
“You want me to come with?” Dean offers, just in case Sam’s feeling like he can’t ask this of him yet. Because he’d go in there in a second, leave all this grunt work behind, if Sam wants it.
Sam looks down at his brother, finally standing in the circle of his arms again, and he suddenly wants to say everything he’s thinking and feeling out loud, but he can’t, it will be too much too soon for Dean. So instead he answers Dean’s question as simply as he can, “Always. But I know you need to get this thing done before it rains or snows. Tell you what, I’ll be waiting for you when you come in for dinner.”
Ignoring the obvious sentiment of Sam’s answer of always because it’s almost too much to believe he means it, “I like the sound of that. You cookin’ too?”
“Sure, why not? You’re out here slaving away building something, I can figure out dinner.”
Sam bends down to gather up the tray, he takes a bite out of one of the apples left behind and puts it up to Dean’s mouth, an offering. Dean takes his own bite as Sam watches his mouth closely. He grabs Sam’s wrist to make him stay just long enough to hear “Tonight then.”
Sam’s eyes darken at the thoughts that fill his head, what Dean’s offering and promising with just a word a familiar thrill that never gets old, “Tonight.” He leans in to take a quick, soft last kiss, and parts with a small sigh. As he walks back into the store room. Sam can feel Dean’s eyes on him, and he exaggerates his walk a little, knowing that Dean’s watching nothing but his ass, shaking it a little more than necessary.
“What? Did you already change your mind or something?” Dean hollers.
Sam looks back over his shoulder at his beautiful brother standing in the sunlight, disheveled and mussed and just so Dean, he answers with a teasing, “Maybe.”
Dean drops the hammer he’d picked up and it bounces away into the pile of cut lumber, “I’ll be right there.”