smalltrolven (smalltrolven) wrote,

Fic: All Thanks to the Golden Girl (Dean/Sam, NC-17)

Title: All Thanks to the Golden Girl

Author: smalltrolven

Pairing: Sam/Dean

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 3,800

Author’s Notes: Not my characters, only my words. First-time, the usual angsty schmoop. Takes place post episode 11.11 "Into the Mystic".

Summary: It’s been four sunsets in a row that they’ve seen together recently, and Sam’s got some questions.

Read it over on AO3 here.


It’s been four hunts since they’d dealt with their friendly neighborhood banshee.

Four different places around the country.

Four road trips of various lengths.

Four more marks that went in the win column.

And this right now, is the fourth sunset in a row that they’d seen together.

Sam noticed stuff like that.

He always had.

In fact he used to keep a list of his favorite sunsets he’d ever seen with Dean when he was a teenager. It was all in code in his journal, because of the things he'd be noting down beside the date and place where they’d shared a sunset.

MOVRROO10: Most overall romantic out of 10

BVBDOO10: Best view (besides Dean) out of 10

CICTKHOO10: Closest I’ve come to kissing him out of 10

#XOHT: Number of times our hands touched

#BS:  Number of beers shared

#HPSG:  Number of hits of pot shot-gunned

That little list had been something he’d kept for all of those turbulent junior high and high school years. The painful churn in his gut that he was wrong, so very wrong and twisted at his core for feeling that way about his brother eventually turned into the reason he’d felt he had to leave. He hadn’t wanted to sully all of those good memories with his brother, even if they hadn’t led to his romantic desires being fulfilled.

As he’d sat in his dorm room at Stanford, curled up on his bed, trying to muscle his way through the painful realignment to a life without Dean, he’d practically memorized that list. Those pages in his journal were well-thumbed, almost translucent in many places. The pages as well-handled as the memories they summarized. All of it added up to years worth of sunsets shared at his brother’s side, but more than that it documented his struggle and victory over ruining the memory of his unrequited love.

Sam sat there in his usual spot on the hood of the Impala, listening to Dean rumbling around in their ancient green cooler for beers, trying to tally up how many times they’d done this sunset thing lately. It really had been four out of four hunts. What happened on that banshee hunt that’d started this up again as a thing that they regularly did? Dean had made some sort of a connection with that woman at the retirement home. He remembered that Dean and Mildred had had a few intimate conversations that he’d felt the need to tease Dean about. Maybe she’d said something that had triggered the recent flood of sunset viewings.

Not that Sam was complaining. He was just noticing. And wondering if it meant anything.

Dean joined him on the warm front hood of the Impala, sliding into his usual spot, still on the driver’s side of course and leaned up against the windshield like Sam was. It never felt right if Dean sat to his right. Dean twisted off both of the beer bottle caps and tossed them into the ravine spread out down below them. The small tink-tink-tink of the metal hitting the granite boulders on the way down the only sound beside the wind.  Dean didn’t interrupt the silence, just handed Sam his beer and saluted him with his own then upended his to take a long swig. Sam let himself look, his brother nearing forty now, more beautiful to his eyes than ever. Lips still full and agile, wrapping around the neck of that beer bottle. Sometimes he wished he was one. A beer bottle, what a different life that would be.

“What are you giggling about like a schoolgirl for, Sammy? Drink your beer, ya doofus.”

The fondness in the way his brother said his name made Sam come back to himself. He took a long pull off his beer, still smiling at the thought of being a bottle. “Oh—uh, nothing really.  Hey, uh, do you remember Mildred?”

Dean’s eyes were still taking in the sunset, roving back and forth over the horizon now lit up in lurid oranges and yellows. “Yeah, she was the one at the retirement place back near home, she was a nice lady.”

“Did she say something about sunsets to you or something?” Sam asked, not really sure why he was bringing it up. There was something to it though, there had to be. Dean didn’t just do things four times in a row with no reason.


“Just noticing we’ve been seeing a lot of them lately,” Sam said, willing himself to keep the intense need he suddenly felt to know the real truth out of his voice. Keep it casual and maybe he’ll actually answer you.

“Now you’re bitching about me making you stop to see some sunsets? Awwww, poor baby.”  Dean turned towards Sam with a grin that was somehow also a pout and patted Sam on the head.

Sam shook his head vigorously, dislodging Dean’s hand, stuffing down the thrill that coursed through him at his brother’s hand in his hair. “I’m not bitching, Dean. Just noticing, that’s all. I like it, we should keep up our streak of four in a row. I propose that after every successful hunt, we get to take a victory lap and watch a sunset.”

Dean shook his head with one of those one-sided smiles that Sam had always wanted to taste. “You are really something, Sam.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Sam asked.

“Keeping track of how many sunsets in a row we’ve seen. How do you even think of doing that kind of thing?”

“It’s not that I’m keeping track, like I said, I really was just noticing,” Sam said.

“Well,—whatever, okay. And yeah, sure, let’s do it. It’ll be like a new tradition or something. The post-hunt sunset,” Dean clinked his bottle to Sam’s to seal the deal.

The sunset was almost done by then, the sky gone almost all the way over to twilight. The world around them seemed to take in a breath and hold it. “I’ll admit, I used to keep track, back when I was a teenager,” Sam said, unable to keep the slight unsure waver out of his voice.

“You always were a weird kid, Sammy,” Dean chuckled and finished off his beer, dropping the bottle into the grass they’d parked on.

Emboldened by the continued fondness and another use of his nickname, Sam decided to take a chance on explaining himself. “Dean, I kept track back then, because it helped me remember we had something good in our lives. The times we spent just hanging out, watching sunsets together were some of my best memories. They still are,” Sam finished, glad that he’d held back enough to not make Dean suspicious, and even happier that he’d shared something honestly. Something that Dean might need to hear.

Dean was silent for a while, empty hands flexing on his thighs, eyes open wide and still staring out at the horizon now gone star-lit and mostly dark.  The glow that was left reflected in Dean’s eyes making them twinkle more than usual. But then the movement of the twinkling tracks down his face caught Sam’s attention.

Sam didn’t say anything, just reached over and wiped Dean’s face off with his flannel shirt sleeve. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Dean cry like this.

Dean cleared his throat and made a small hmmm sound, like he was considering and re-considering whether to say something. “Mildred asked me when the last time I’d watched a sunset without waiting for something to go bump in the night. And I realized it’d been too long, since we’d done this. I remembered that it was something that made you happy.”

“How about you, Dean? Are you happy?”

“She said I was pining for someone,” Dean said, instead of answering Sam’s question.

“Who, Mildred did? Did she mean her?” Sam asked, full of a foolish hope that felt way too familiar. His teenage self would certainly recognize this feeling.

“No, I know who she meant. You know I was just kidding about that Golden Girls stuff, right?”

“Well, who then?” Sam asked. After all these years of hoping, could it actually be happening?

“Can’t tell you yet, I’m working up to it.”

Sam swallowed down a growl of frustration. “Well, I’m all ears when you’re done working up to it.” Sam had to take a deep breath to keep from saying anything else about who Dean was pining for. His stomach sank as he realized that his own name must not have been the answer, otherwise Dean would have said something. That would have been the perfect time, right?

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said, sounding far away, even though they were right next to each other like they had been for most of their lives.

“You’re welcome. Thanks for all the sunsets, Dean. The ones back then, and the more recent ones. It means a lot to me.”  Sam wanted to say more, but he settled for bumping Dean’s shoulder gently with his own shoulder.

Dean bumped him back and then stayed there, so they were resting shoulder to shoulder there in the gathering dark.  He turned to look at Sam. “Me too.”

“Should we go?” Sam asked, beginning to move away and off the hood of the Impala. He was stopped by the feeling of a hand clasping high up on his thigh.

“Wait,” Dean said through a strangled sound that made Sam think of someone trying and failing to stop themselves from saying something. “I want, uh—“

Dean interrupted his own words by placing his lips against Sam’s in a firm press that lingered just long enough to give Sam enough time to get onboard. His hands came up to hold the back of Dean’s head in place, Dean’s lips plush and warm against his own. Between their lips Sam whispered, “Please.”

Taking advantage of the small opening that suddenly very large word gave, Dean plunged his own tongue into Sam’s slightly opened mouth, swirling through and flipping Sam’s world upside down in the best possible way.

Sam pulled Dean over onto his lap, their lips somehow never parting. They both groaned into the kiss when they were pressed together, Dean’s legs spread wide to mold himself closer to Sam. Sam felt like he was blending into Dean. He couldn’t tell where he was a separate person; he didn’t want to be; he didn’t want to ever ever stop.

Closer closer closer his heart was beating so loudly Dean must have heard it, because he somehow fitted them together even closer. Everything aligning just so; hardness lined up against hardness; Sam’s hands filled with the weight of Dean’s perfect ass; Dean’s hands busy finding any skin on Sam’s back that he could get to; Sam’s back pressed into the Impala windshield. They both began an urgent rhythm of heat and desire that made Sam feel like he was going to burn up before they even started much less finished.

They churned and humped against each other, hissing at the roughness of the denim and zippers in the way, their mouths fused together in one long endless kiss that managed to summarize all the years of waiting and denial and why-the-hell-were-we-so-stupid. Dean’s noises changed from muffled pants and groans to something that sounded more like words.

“Want it Sammy, c’mon,” Dean finally managed to say between hurried gasps for breath. His hands moved up into Sam’s hair, tugging sharply.

That tug of his hair made Sam came immediately, hot and pulsing between them. It was over before he could notice that Dean was coming too, tense and then gone pliant in his arms. Dean’s weight on his lap became heavier as Dean sank down into the afterglow of whatever the hell that was. Something a long time coming.

“All that’s ever mattered is that we’re together,” Sam murmured into the side of Dean’s neck. “When you said that, I hoped this was what you meant.”

“Guess you’d better put that on your list of sunsets,” Dean said. “Sorry I didn’t have any pot to shot-gun with you tonight. Maybe next time, huh?”

Sam’s stomach swooped with the feeling of his teenage secret finally being revealed. “You knew about my list?”

“Yeah, Sammy, course I did.”

“But then—why?” Sam asked.

“Why what? Why didn’t I do something about it? You were my little brother, and I couldn’t mess you up like that,” Dean said.

“I still am your little brother,” Sam said. “So what’s changed?”

“More advice from Mildred,” Dean answered.

“Guess I owe her a dried-fruit basket or something,” Sam joked. “What was the advice?”

“She told me the key to a long happy life was to follow my heart, and trust that the rest will work itself out.”

“How’s that working out for you so far?” Sam asked, smiling against the hot skin of Dean’s neck.

Instead of answering, Dean squirmed down hard against Sam so that they both groaned, still so sensitive. He held Sam’s head in both hands and looked at him with a smile so serious and grave that Sam almost began to worry Dean regretted this. “Sammy,” he whispered, face transforming into something that Sam had rarely ever seen. Dean’s expression was raw and unguarded, all Sam could see was fierce honest love there. He tried to return the same to Dean and was rewarded with a few honest tears.  Sam leaned forward and kissed them away, savoring the salty joy they contained, his thumbs stroking gently over Dean’s cheeks.

“I’m going to start a new list,” Sam said.

“Is it going to be in code again?”

“Yeah, see if you can figure this one out, D.M.M.C.I.M.J..” Sam watched as Dean thought through the possibilities.

“Oh, that’s going to be a long, long list, Sammy,” Dean said with a purr in his voice that sent shivers down Sam’s spine.

“Promise?” Sam asked, leaning in to kiss underneath Dean’s jaw line up to his ear.

“Yeah, I do,” Dean said. “Now how about we clean up the C.I.M.J., I don’t know about you but it’s going to be pretty uncomfortable to sit in this mess all night while I’m driving us home.”

Sam missed the weight of Dean on his lap immediately, but was comforted when Dean reached out a hand to help him down off the Impala, drawing him into the circle of his arms. He held Dean against him, loosely at first, then Dean’s arms snaked up around his neck, pulling his head down to kiss again. He pressed Dean against the side of the Impala, forcing Dean to go up on his tiptoes, slightly unbalanced to reach up to Sam’s lips.

Their kiss this time was sweet at first, gentle and exploratory turning into something darker and full of all-consuming passion and need. Sam felt Dean’s hands undoing his belt buckle and jeans, pushing them down with his boxers as he withdrew from their kiss and sank to his knees. Sam almost fell over at the feeling of Dean’s mouth on him, he braced his hands against the roof of the Impala and watched as his brother licked him completely clean. Dean took his partlysoftened cock into his mouth and looked up at Sam. The sight of those eyes looking up at him and that mouth wrapped around him made Sam want to come all over again. He could feel himself hardening in Dean’s mouth, and the look of surprise on Dean’s face was worth everything then.

Dean pulled off with a sputter. “Really, Sam?” he asked, sounding impressed.

“Hey, it’s been a while,” Sam said. “And you’re, uh…really good at that.”

“What do you want, Sammy?” Dean asked, still kneeling in front of him, holding Sam’s almost fully hard cock in his hand, stroking it slowly.

“You Dean, just you, all I ever wanted,” Sam said, unsure if that was the answer Dean expected, unable to come up with anything else because of the way Dean’s hand was moving, tight and perfect.

Dean looked at him with eyes gone dark with lust. “Same here, but be specific for right here, right now. You want my hand, my mouth, my ass, or what?”

“Oh god,” Sam squeaked out, having to grasp the base of his cock to stop himself from coming just at Dean’s words. “God Dean, need it…want it all.”

Dean grinned up at him, still down on his knees, waiting patiently, the waves of want still pouring off of him. “Oh you bad boy, right here on the side of the road?” Dean took pity on Sam’s indecisiveness then and sucked a dark purpling mark over the pulse jumping at the top soft inside of Sam’s leg. He traveled his lips and teeth over to Sam’s cock, marking him gently, maddeningly until Sam finally was taken all the way inside. Deep inside Dean, Sam could feel the softness of Dean’s palate bumping against the tip of his cock, but his hips wouldn’t stop. The instinct to thrust, to take, to have overwhelmed him and he pushed deeper into Dean’s throat. Dean gagged around him tightening so much Sam thought he’d stay there, choking Dean. His brother’s eyes leaked again for the third time this evening, but for a different reason. He didn’t pull off though, just wrapped his hands around the cold cheeks of Sam’s ass and pulled him in deeper, fingertips bruise-tight and permanent.

Sam pumped in and out a few times, coming when he felt Dean moan all around him, the sound traveling from where they were joined up to the pit of his twisted heart, releasing everything he’d ever kept secret from Dean. It all poured out of him in a blissful rush and Dean swallowed it down joyfully, satisfied and happy.  Sam brought one of his hands down to rest on the side of Dean’s head, thumb stroking over his earlobe then palming down Dean’s throat where he’d just been. Dean released him then, kissing the tip of his cock as it hit the cool night air. Closing his eyes in blissful thankfulness.

Sam pulled him up roughly and kissed him, wanting to taste himself in Dean’s mouth. Dean let his mouth be licked clean, flavors mingling into something new they’d never had before. Sam’s hand traveled down to feel Dean was hard again.  His mind boggled at the idea that giving him head had made Dean hard again, it was beyond hot, beyond what he’d ever fantasized about. He spun Dean around to rest against the Impala and undid his belt and jeans quickly, yanking them down and kneeling in front of his brother. Dean’s cock sprang up, with a hard, solid thwack to his belly. Dean let out a grunt at the feeling, his hands both landing on the top of Sam’s head, fingers digging and twisting into his hair.

First he licked up the mess left from before, teasing Dean with small bites that had him squirming in anticipation. He couldn’t wait any longer and licked up and down Dean’s cock, getting it dripping wet, suckling just the tip of it into his mouth. He thought he could die right now from finally having this, but it got even better when Dean’s hands on his head guided him to take him deeper. He forced himself to open up and take it, reveling in the pain of it, overjoyed to feel the tears leaking out of his eyes. Dean taking his pleasure with abandon, Sam let his mouth be used, steadying himself by holding onto Dean’s waist. He could feel Dean tighten up all over and pulled off against the weight of Dean’s hands, tipping his face back to receive everything Dean had to give him.

“Sammy, Sammy, god damn,” Dean choked out, fingers drawing through the warm come on Sam’s cheeks and lips, pushing it into his mouth. He rubbed the rest of it into Sam’s skin, as if marking him as his from this point forward. “Mine, you’re mine,” Dean whispered.

Sam thought his heart would burst from the feeling of it, being owned like this, at finally being his. His eyes closed at the thought, unsure whether that was what Dean meant, but wanting it to be true.

“Open your eyes, look at me, man,” Dean said, fingertips gentle on Sam’s face. “I mean it, you’re mine, Sammy.”

This is what it felt like to get everything you ever dreamed about, Sam thought as the unexpected wave of joy hit him. He stumbled a little as he stood, but Dean steadied him, holding him around his waist. Those strong hands that had been there his whole life, taking care of him, still doing that, but with another level of possessive care that fed a hunger that he’d tried to deny. He wanted that from Dean, but he wanted to give it to him too. He put his hands on Dean in the same way, mirroring the possessive touches.  “You’re mine too, Dean.”

“That’s always been true,” Dean said with a grin and a small huffed laugh.

“This is different though, right?” Sam asked, still unsure, feeling stupid that he couldn’t just accept it at face value, needing the reassurance like the kid brother he’d always be. Dean’s come drying into his skin should have been enough.

“It’s just laid on top of what’s always been there, so yeah, different, but the same too. We’re still just you and me,” Dean said, looking so serious, voice sounding like a promise.

“Let’s go home,” Sam said, knowing that saying the word home at a time like this would mean everything to his brother.

Instead of answering, Dean smiled, wide and wild and so beautiful against the dark night sky. He reluctantly let go of Sam and opened the passenger side door for him. Once Sam was seated he closed the door and walked around the front of the Impala to scoop up their beer bottles, tossed them into the trunk with the cooler and was back in his spot in the driver’s seat.  He looked over at Sam for a long moment, eyes twinkling with something brand-new. He leant over the space between them and brushed their lips together just because he could now.  They pulled back onto the road and sped off towards home.

Dean kept stealing little glances over at Sam, like he couldn’t believe Sam was there beside him. Sam reached out to hold Dean’s hand that was resting on the top of his thigh, hoping that the small contact reassured him that he was really in this with him. When Dean squeezed his hand back, Sam’s heart felt healed and made new, filled with the energy of the sunset they’d seen tonight and the ones they’d share in the future.

Tags: episode coda, first-time, nc-17, sam/dean, season 11, wincest
  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded