Title: Everyday Miracles
By: nancy
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: rape, incest, mpreg, m/m sex, language, WIP
Summary: A hunt goes bad and the boys decide it's time for a break.

It was cold, and dark, and damp, three of Dean’s least favorite things in the world. Give him a sunny southern Californian summer day any day, and he was a happy camper. Stepping in a slush-pile, Dean grimaced and thought, This shit is for the birds.

Despite being the middle of winter, the maze shrubbery was still in full-force, not empty branches that were easy to see through. Shivering in his jacket, Dean hoped that Sam was having better luck finding the center than he was and started walking again. He still wasn’t happy about having split up, but Sam had insisted and it had been easier to give in than to argue.

Something they seemed to be doing all too much of, these days. Fighting about Dad. Fighting about what to investigate. Fighting about how to chase down leads.

Shit. The only time we don’t fight, is when we fuck, Dean thought, dejected.

He couldn’t even be corny and call it ‘making love,’ because it hadn’t been that for at least three months. Not since Dad had shown up in Chicago and Sam had decided that it was All Dean’s Fault that they’d parted ways again. And really, it was, but it wasn’t like Dean didn’t feel the hurt, too. He hated that they couldn’t be a family together like they used to, especially now that Sam and Dad had patched things up at last.

Sighing, he wondered if maybe he should just have another NDE to break through the barriers that Sam had built between them. At least when he came close to dying, Sam showed that he actually felt something for Dean other than anger.

Not really paying attention to his surroundings got him his quasi-wish. One second he was walking morosely through the purportedly haunted maze and the next fire lanced through his body as a mist engulfed him. Dean jerked violently in shocked pain and screamed, unable to do anything else.

*  *  *  *

Sam spun in place the second he heard Dean scream and ran as fast as he could towards the sound. It raised the hairs on the back of his neck and his gut clenched in fear as the screaming continued with only short, short breaks; probably when Dean had to breathe. The maze ensnared him, though, keeping him from getting to his brother before the screaming died out. That meant Dean had either passed out from the pain, or he was…

Not finishing the thought, Sam put on a burst of speed and came around a corner at full tilt to find Dean dangling in the air, surrounded by a glowing mist. Going on pure instinct, he pulled the silver dagger from the sheathe at his waist and shouted a wordless challenge as he leaped for the thing holding Dean. He held the dagger out, blade first, and slammed into it with as much force as he could.

It was like being struck by lightening. The moment the dagger hit the semi-solid mist creature, an explosion rocked him back through the air. He slammed into the ground painfully hard, the air driven completely from his body. For a few seconds, Sam couldn’t even begin the struggle to breathe, then heaved a giant breath, coughing and choking while his body protested the abuse.

Rolling groggily into a sitting position, he saw that Dean had been released by the thing, whatever it had been, and lay unconscious on the slushy ground. In the few minutes it took to crawl to his brother’s side, the leaves on the shrubbery started dying and falling to the ground. Whatever it had been keeping the maze ever-green and abducting young lovers, was definitely gone.

Dean’s face was pinched with pain, even unconscious, and he lay curled into a fetal position, knees hugged tight to his chest. Using what little of his strength remained, Sam pulled his brother into his arms, cradling him and rocking him slowly. As he held Dean tight and recognized, yet again, that his brother had almost been taken from him, Sam couldn’t stop the tears from gathering.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, kissing the top of Dean’s head between words. “I should’ve listened to you. Please don’t leave me, Dean. Let me make it up to you, please don’t die.”

“Damn right…gonna…make it up to me,” Dean groaned at last.

Relief provoked a laugh from him and Sam squeezed a little extra tight before pulling back. Dean looked utterly exhausted, completely put through the wringer, and still in serious pain. Combing his fingers through the short, thick hair, Sam kissed him tenderly and repeated, “I’m so sorry, Dean. Can you move? Where does it hurt?”

For some reason, embarrassment flashed across Dean’s face, but all he said was, “All over, and yeah, help me up.”

Sam pulled one of Dean’s arms carefully over his shoulder and slid an arm around his brother’s waist to help him upright. Dean leaned heavily on him, but Sam was glad enough to give all the support he needed. Guilt dogged his steps for all the anger he’d been heaping on Dean for the last few months.

By the time they got to the end of the maze, most of the greenery was gone. None of the missing couples had reappeared, unfortunately, but at least there wouldn’t be any more victims. When they got to the car, he settled Dean against the side and held him up while he pulled the keys from his brother’s pockets.

“Hey now, no getting frisky when I’m too out of it to enjoy things.”

Sam managed a brief grin for Dean’s teasing warning, but only said, “Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of that later, once you’re back to normal.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen.”

Frowning only brought a smile to Dean’s face and Sam sighed as he unlocked and then opened the Impala’s door. He carefully helped Dean into the car and was all set to buckle him up when Dean waved him aside. Sam shut the door and took a steadying breath as he walked around to the driver’s side. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to his brother’s self-deprecating humor, but it seemed to be a little too-sharp lately. Then again, that was probably his fault. Sam knew that he’d been harping on Dean too much since the disastrous meeting with their father, but hadn’t been able to stop himself.

It stops now, he vowed, climbing into the car.

Sam looked over at Dean only to find his brother sound asleep. The pained expression had faded a little, which reassured him somewhat, and he sighed again, this time in relief. He took a moment to cup Dean’s face, brushing his thumb across a cheek, then turned his attention to finding a hotel.

*  *  *  *

Looking at his ass in the mirror, Dean bit his lip and wondered, a little hysterically, if there was such a thing as ass make-up so he could hide the distinctive bruising that had developed even before they had stopped for the night. It looked like Sam had gone to town on him, except they hadn’t had any serious sex for over a week and even then, it had only been a hurried handjob.

What really sucked was that he remembered the pure ecstasy mixed up with the pain, as if the ghost or demon or whatever had been trying to give him what pleasure it could. He couldn’t even say that he’d been raped, really, because there hadn’t been any pain at all on the point of entry and he’d definitely gotten off on it, as much as he hadn’t expected to have a seriously twisted version of anonymous sex that night.

“Dean, are you okay…what the fuck?”

Jumping around in fright at Sam’s words, Dean saw the shocked expression on his brother’s face and couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He knew that Sam had seen the bruises by way of the mirror, there was no way to miss them. It was fifty-fifty whether Sam would jump to the right conclusion and Dean wasn’t sure which would be worse; having his brother’s pity, or even more of his anger, only this time, for something he hadn’t done on purpose.

Sam met his gaze for a long moment, giving him what could only be called a searching look, and then turned and walked away.

Pain of a different sort sliced through him and Dean hugged his stomach, feeling the rejection like a physical kick to the gut. He dropped limply onto the toilet and buried his head in his hands, barely feeling anything over the shock to his heart. He knew, absolutely knew, that it was over between them. Sam had jumped to the conclusion that Dean had fucked around on him and would probably never want to see him again.

A loud crash jolted Dean from his agonized stupor and he jumped to his feet, running to the bathroom door. For the first time ever, he saw his brother in the grips of a true rage, one made all the scarier by its complete and utter silence. Sam didn’t scream or shout or curse, he simply demolished the room piece by piece. He was reminded of a time when their father had done the exact same thing. Dean had been ten at the time and he’d held a very scared Sam while John had torn their small apartment to pieces.

If he’d ever needed proof that Sam was John Winchester’s son, this was definitely it.

When Sam went for the massive wall mirror, Dean had horrifying visions of his brother sliced into a million slivers by the glass and jumped to intercept him, shouting, “Sam! Sammy, no! Stop!”

Sam struggled against him, but then seemed to come back to himself and stopped fighting abruptly. Shaking hands surrounded Dean’s face as gently as a feather and tears fell as Sam gasped, “It shouldn’t have happened to you, it’s my fault, it’s all my fault, Dean, I’m so sorry.”

Wrapping his arms around his brother, Dean winced when they dropped to the unyielding floor and his ass throbbed uncomfortably. It didn’t matter though, all that mattered was the man crying in his arms feeling guilty about something over which he’d had no control. Something over which neither of them had had any control, he knew in his gut.

He felt surprisingly free by the internal admission. Letting himself acknowledge that yes, he’d been raped, that he’d had absolutely no control over what had happened, stopped some form of burgeoning guilt before it could truly take hold. It had happened, it was over, he was going to have nightmares, but he could deal with it. And he would, just as soon as he brought Sam back from the edge.

Once Sam quieted down, face pressed against Dean’s belly, Dean rubbed his back soothingly and said, “It wasn’t your fault, Sammy, you couldn’t have stopped it any more than I could have. We were in over our heads and didn’t even know it.”

“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” Sam insisted, sniffling and wiping his sleeve over his face. “I shouldn’t have gone off and left you like that.”

But Dean was glad, now, that he had. He could take something like this happening to himself, but not to Sammy. Pressing his lips to Sam’s head, Dean told him, “This isn’t your fault, Sammy. I don’t blame you for it. I don’t blame anyone except that fucking whatever the hell it was that did it. And, if it makes you feel better, it didn’t hurt.”

Incredulous, Sam sat up and demanded, “It didn’t hurt? Dean, I heard you screaming!”

“Okay, yeah, that electrified thing hurt like a sonuvabitch, but the actual, ah, you know…I didn’t feel any pain for that,” Dean promised. He didn’t want to say the word ‘rape,’ to Sammy, knowing how emotional his little brother was just then. Wasn’t sure he would ever be able to say it in his presence. “I even… it got me off, okay, Sam? That part was…it could have been a helluva lot worse.”

“But it was still…it still…”

Dean had to nod when Sam’s words trailed off, unable to say the word, either. “It did, it was, but it really could have been worse. I’ll be okay, Sammy, I swear. I’ll even…ah hell…if you want me to get some kind of touchy-feely therapy for this shit, I will. Just…please don’t take it on yourself. It wasn’t your fault, okay?”

Sam stared back at him for a long, silent moment, then finally said, “I’ll try.”

Which was actually a better response than Dean had expected to get. Before either could say anything else, a loud pounding at the door startled them both. Dean climbed to his feet, accepting Sam’s help, and said, “You’ll have to get this one while I get decent. I’ll be right back.”

Sam pulled him in for a fast, hard kiss, but it was enough to make Dean hope things were back on track, no matter how bumpy a track it might be.

*  *  *  *

It took a good half hour for Sam to get the manager to agree to accept payment and let them stay the rest of the night. It wouldn’t have taken so long, but Sam’s gaze and focus kept straying to Dean, who sat on the bed, silent and small, knees brought up to his chest as he stared into space, waiting for the confrontation to be over.

When the manager came back, practically tossing the credit card at Sam, he looked into the room and called, “Hey you! You okay over there?”

Sam wasn’t surprised to find himself the evil-doer in this scenario, the manager clearly thinking that he’d beaten Dean to hell and back. The guilt eating him alive spiked at that, no matter what he’d promised his brother.

“Fine, man, thanks,” Dean replied, shaking himself out of an apparent fog.

The manager glared at Sam and said, “I hear another peep out of this room, I call the cops.”

Sam nodded. “You won’t.”

“And he better not have any more bruises on him come the morning, either, or I call the cops,” the man snapped, giving Sam the evil-eye before leaving.

If he’d had any sense of self-preservation, he wouldn’t have laughed, but Sam was so on edge that he couldn’t stop an insane giggle, of all things, from escaping. He closed the door quickly as the manager turned back towards him and locked it, struggling to keep himself together. Unsuccessful, he ran to the bed and fell face down on it, stifling the loud gasps of laughter that burst from him into a pillow.

He felt Dean crawl up the bed and stretch out beside him, hooking a leg over Sam’s thighs and wrapping an arm over his back, but couldn’t stop shaking. Only the manager’s threat to call the cops kept him relatively quiet, forcing his anger into the pillow.

“It’s okay, Sammy, let it out, let it all go, baby, it’s gonna be fine now,” Dean murmured into his ear, a hand stroking slowly up and down Sam’s back.

An uncertain amount of time later, Sam’s emotional outburst settled into a general miasma of exhaustion. Turning his face so that he could see Dean, he had to clear his throat before he could ask, “How can you comfort me? How can you even stand to be around me, anymore?”

Gently wiping the remains of tears from Sam’s lashes, then from his face, Dean offered a brief smile and replied simply, “Because I love you, Sammy. Nothing’s ever going to change that. For good or bad, sin or salvation, I love you. Now c’mere and let’s get some sleep, okay? I think we should take off early, before Mr. Good Samaritan decides to call the cops anyhow.”

Yawning, Sam silently agreed with the prognosis and rolled onto his side, scooting closer so that his head was tucked up under his brother’s chin. Dean’s arms obligingly went around him and he was kissed more than once on his temple and forehead before Dean sighed deeply and relaxed around him.

Comforted by the steady heartbeat thumping under his cheek and his brother’s reassuring bulk, Sam drifted slowly into a much needed sleep.

*  *  *  *

They left before dawn the next day and Dean pushed Sam in the passenger’s side direction. His ass was going to be sore no matter where he sat, and he didn’t feel like getting into an accident because his brother was emotional. Thankfully, Sam didn’t argue and they were on the road in short order.

Driving at a steady, not-too-fast clip saw them out of the state by noon and Dean stopped shortly after that, at a truck stop. Sam slept almost the entire way, waking only about fifteen minutes before Dean pulled into the diner’s parking lot. Neither of them spoke, but the silence was a lot more comfortable than it had been for the last few months. Sam even rested his hand on Dean’s thigh the rest of the way, something he hadn’t done in ages.

The diner looked like just about any other interstate diner, and they took a seat in a booth at the back. Even though he wasn’t very hungry, Dean ordered a burger and fries, grinning briefly when Sam got a salad. “You’re gonna waste away, eating that crap.”

Sam huffed in amusement, but only replied, “Haven’t yet…how do you feel?”

Dean shrugged. “Sore, but otherwise fine. Where do you want to go from here?”

It wasn’t until the words were out that he realized just how loaded a question it was.

Fortunately, Sam took the most obvious response and said, “ Denver’s not too far from here. I’ve got a friend who has a cabin in the mountains where we can hang out for a few days. Take some time for ourselves. If you want.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Dean muttered, meeting his brother’s gaze.

They were silent while eating, instead of the usual chatter. Dean’s stomach protested the heavy burger and greasy fries long before he finished them, but he ate them all anyhow. He was startled when Sam began playing footsie with him under the table when the meal was pretty much done. He looked up from his plate, questioning.

Sam grinned faintly and asked, “What?”

“What are you doing?” Dean countered, trying not to grin in response.

“I’ve got long legs. You got a problem with that?”

Dean snorted and drank the last of his soda. “You ready to go there, Jessica Rabbit?”

Making a face at him, Sam stood and said, “I want to drive.”

“Not a chance,” Dean replied.

“Dean, you need to rest.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but the pleading look in those dark eyes stopped him cold. Sighing, he muttered, “You don’t play fair,” and handed over the keys. He hated it when Sam played the ‘I want to take care of you,’ card like that, because he absolutely couldn’t resist it.

Once in the car, he hesitated, then said, “We need to stop in the next town, Beckettsville.”

“Why?” Sam questioned, curious.

Dean sighed. “Because I’ve got a friend there who’s a doctor and um, I need to get checked out.”

Sam’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel, but he only nodded and replied, “Sure. Just tell me how to get there.”

The silence wasn’t quite as comfortable as that morning, but Sam laced his fingers with Dean’s, which helped. They were in front of Todd’s small clinic in a less than an hour and Dean brought his brother’s hand up to his lips before releasing him. “Come on in. I want you to meet Todd. He’s a good guy. Helped me a lot with things I couldn’t tell Dad.”

They entered the small building and found only a single patient sitting in the waiting area. Dean walked up to the receptionist behind her glass window and flashed a tired smile. “Hey. Dean Winchester to see Todd.”

“He’s got one ahead of you, Mr. Winchester. It’ll be about forty-five minutes, unless you’d like to come back?” she informed him.

“Mr. Winchester? Dean, is that you?” Todd’s grizzled face appeared seconds later at the glass and he looked startled to find Dean standing there. Dark eyes narrowed at Dean and the doctor continued, “Come on back, Dean. Jenny, give my apologies to Terri and tell her I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Dean motioned for Sam to stay put, giving him a reassuring smile, and then headed into the back area. The clinic only had three exam rooms, an office, and a supply room, making it the smallest medical building Dean had ever known. He was caught up in a strong hug the second the door closed behind him and for a long moment, he held tight to his surrogate-father, drinking in the comfort like a sponge.

“Okay, big guy, let’s take a look,” Todd said softly, letting him go.

Swallowing back the emotions, Dean nodded and followed Todd to the nearest exam room. The other man hadn’t changed in the two years since they’d last seen one another. He was still big and burly and looked like a biker instead of a doctor. Or maybe a vet, if someone was being kind.

When the door closed, Todd just looked at him for a few seconds before asking, “What happened?”

And because it wasn’t Sam, Dean could say, albeit in a shaky voice, “I was, I was raped. I need you to check me out back there because I haven’t, well, gone since it happened. I don’t know if something’s wrong or I just need more fiber in my diet.”

Todd’s jaw flexed at the poor joke, but he nodded and ordered, “Strip off, then, son, and let me do my job.”

Dean stripped, putting on the paper Johnny that Todd held out to him and then sitting on the exam table with a wince. There was a complete physical first, reacclimatizing him to the older man’s presence and touch, for which he was grateful. It wasn’t until blood had been drawn and the tiny hole had gotten a band aid that Todd ordered gently, “Turn around and bend at the waist, son.”

Dean did as commanded while the doctor put on gloves and opened a tube of something. Gritting his teeth as the other man examined him carefully but thoroughly, Dean stared at a somewhat graphic picture of a heart on the wall.

When it was done, Todd withdrew his fingers and said, “Don’t move just yet. You’re not torn, but I want to get some antibiotic cream into you.”

A short couple of minutes later and the gloves were pulled off, signaling the end of the exam. Dean straightened, grimacing, and faced Todd, asking, “So?”

“You’ve got some hellacious bruising along the outside, but other than some enflamed tissue, the bastard didn’t do any real damage. Thankfully. I gather you didn’t report it,” Todd questioned, motioning for him to get dressed.

Dean grabbed his underwear gratefully and started dressing as he answered, “I couldn’t.”

“Why not? Dean, we talked about this penchant of yours to go for the wrong kinda guy,” Todd exclaimed. “I warned you that it could end like this and you agreed that if it did, you would prosecute the asshole if you could!”

“Because my bad taste in men isn’t why I’m fuckin’ here!” Dean snapped.

Taken aback, Todd stared at him a long moment before asking quietly, “Then what happened?”

Dean sighed. “I don’t know. We were on a hunt and something grabbed me. I couldn’t even see it, because it was misty, not really anything I could fight, but I damn sure felt it.”

Gripping Dean’s shoulder, Todd pulled him in close for a hug. Dean resisted at first, but then relaxed against the bigger man with a sigh. Where he couldn’t go to his own father for physical affection, Todd had always been around for a hug or literal pat on the back. There’d been a lot of times that Dean had wished to know the doctor when he was younger. As a kid he’d been desperate for that kind of contact, but had never been able to express his needs. And then, as a teen, he’d been the one to be all hands-off with his Dad.

It was a couple of years before Sam had stormed off to college that he’d met Todd at a cheesy retro gay bar. They’d hit it off, but not sexually. Dean hadn’t even realized that at the time, just knowing that he’d wanted to get closer to the big man, but Todd had. The doctor had seen enough emotionally starved kids over his years as a doctor, especially gay ones, that he’d diagnosed Dean in about five minutes flat. Or so he insisted to Dean.

Knowing that Sam was probably wearing a hole in the floor, Dean reluctantly pulled away from Todd and said, “Thanks.”

Todd smiled and ruffled his hair. “No problem, kiddo.”

“Hey! Watch the hair!” Dean protested, grinning.

Echoing the grin, Todd retorted, “Why? Is it going to do something?”

Dean chuckled and told him, “Come on. Sam’s with me and I want you to meet him.”

“And I want to, but let me take care of my last patient of the day,” Todd replied. “We’ll go out for supper somewhere.”

“How about breakfast instead?” Dean countered, abruptly wanting to get somewhere comfortable and hole up for the night.

Todd smiled again and nodded agreement. “Sounds perfect. Meet me at Jackie’s around seven.”

“Who’s up that early?”

“You, if you want breakfast with me.”

Fully dressed, Dean preceded Todd out of the exam room and waved goodbye before leaving for the waiting area. Sam was, as expected, pacing impatiently, a worried frown on his face. Flashing his brother a brief smile, Dean said, “Everything’s copasetic. We’re going to meet up with Todd for breakfast.”

Sam looked relieved and asked, “Ready to go?”

Dean glanced at the door through which Todd was now working with his last patient and answered, “Definitely.”

*  *  *  *

The remains of room service, a rare luxury, littered the table on which it had been brought. Stretched out comfortably on the bed with Dean resting in his arms, Sam sighed in contentment and pressed his lips to his brother’s temple. “So how long have you known Todd?”

“About five years now,” Dean answered, yawning. “Just before you took off.”

Sam winced at the bald statement of fact, but didn’t dispute it. Staying casual, he asked, “So you two know each other pretty well then.”

Dean laughed softly. “Oh, yeah. Todd’s pretty much seen right through me since day one. We’ve been tight since then. Well, off and on, of course. Between hunts.”

Jealousy slashed through him at those words, but Sam managed to say with a modicum of normality, “That’s good. That you had someone, I mean.”

Shifting over onto his stomach, stretching himself over Sam’s abs, Dean grinned as he teased, “You’re jealous!”

“I am not!” Sam exclaimed, squirming to get away. “I mean it. I’m glad that you had someone.”

Dean bit him playfully and said, “Not like that, dumbass. Todd’s a great guy, but he’s like another dad to me. Only, one that wasn’t going to beat my ass for missing curfew for a pretty girl. Or even better, a bad boy.”

Sam snorted. “Dad did not beat you.”

“Well no, but he wasn’t all that pleasant to deal with when he didn’t get his way. Gee, that sounds like someone else I know,” Dean commented, grinning.

Shaking his head, amused despite himself, Sam retorted, “Funny, Dean.”

“I try.”

Sam combed his fingers through Dean’s hair, staring down into the changeable eyes, now more gray than green. If he hadn’t known what had happened, he never would have suspected. Dean was such a good actor, that it took someone to see through him to make sure he didn’t overload by keeping things in. Dean sighed and leaned into the caress, prompting Sam to continue it. “You know, you don’t have to be the strong one here, Dean. I can carry it for a while.”

Dean sighed and rested his cheek against Sam’s stomach, not saying anything for a few minutes.

Just when Sam thought that he’d gone to sleep, his brother’s mouth pressed against his bared midriff. He tensed when Dean shifted down to nuzzle against his groin. Cupping Dean’s chin, he tilted Dean’s face up and said, “I don’t think we should do anything for a while, Dean. After what you’ve been through…”

“After what I’ve been through,” Dean interrupted firmly. “I need to feel you in me, Sammy. I need something clean, something good, and you’re it, little brother.”

Sam hesitated, not at all sure that it was a good idea, but then Dean’s hand rubbed him firmly through the jeans, distracting him.

“Todd said I was fine. No damage. You don’t have to worry,” Dean persuaded, pressing his face against Sam’s groin again.

Shivering in arousal, Sam countered, “I wasn’t worried about that so much as the other stuff.”

“Other stuff?”

“Yeah, whatever’s going on up here.

Dean caught the fingers Sam tapped against his head and brought them to his mouth, sucking on them with intent. Before he could recover from the lewd advance, Dean pounced on him, sealing their mouths together in a hungry kiss. It had been so long since they’d connected with each other in anything other than anger that Sam gave in without any further protest. His mouth opened under the onslaught and he groaned as Dean rubbed their bodies together without any apparent shame.

Growling with need, revitalized by the unexpected turn to the evening, Sam lifted and flipped Dean onto his back. His brother grunted in surprise, but grinned fiercely when Sam straddled him, pinning him down.

“So? You’ve got me, what’re you gonna do with me?” Dean taunted.

Sam smirked. “Whatever I want.”

“You’re all talk, baby.”

Sliding down Dean’s chest, nipping as he went, Sam undid the snug jeans and pulled them down, freeing his brother’s half-hard erection. Well, at least he’s not feigning interest, Sam thought in relief. He took the warm flesh into his mouth, relishing both the taste and Dean’s groan as his brother sagged back onto the pillows. He took his time, licking and sucking on the shaft until it was full length and hard, throbbing pleasantly in his mouth when he stopped to just hold it deep in his throat.

“Sammy, please…you’re killin me,” Dean moaned, thrusting to get deeper.

Sam pulled off his brother’s cock and cleared his throat, catching his breath before climbing off the bed to shuck his own pants and boxers. Naked, he hurried to Dean’s bag and rooted around for the lube that he knew his brother always carried. Coming up with a mostly full tube, proof of just how badly he’d neglected his brother’s needs, Sam mentally kicked himself. Pushing aside the self-recriminations for later, he took it back and hopped back onto the bed, catching Dean’s mouth in a long, deep kiss. They made out for a long time, trading control of the kisses back and forth, exploring and reconnecting at their leisure.

When he couldn’t deny his own need any longer, Sam slicked his fingers up and rubbed them along Dean’s cleft. Moaning into the kiss, Dean’s legs parted, offering himself to Sam on a silver platter. Sam took the invitation, but went slow with it, not wanting to hurt his brother after being such a jerk for so long. It seemed forever that he waited, making sure that Dean was overwhelmed by sensation and thrusting back on his fingers before he took up position between Dean’s legs.

To his surprise, Dean rose up unexpectedly and pushed him onto his back. Before Sam could do anything but gape in surprise, his brother sat on his erection, forcing it into himself all at once, and Sam cried out in shocked pleasure. Encased in the tight heat so quickly brought him all the way to the edge. It was only because Dean didn’t move directly thereafter that Sam didn’t come and disappoint him. Panting through clenched teeth, Sam looked up at Dean and, once his control was back, told him softly, “Take what you need, Dean.”

Dean shuddered visibly at his words, then linked his hands with Sam’s, lacing their fingers together as he started moving. Sam lay there and let his brother work out his demons on his body. Their bodies. His hands ached with pain, the death-grip bruising, but he raised no protest. His cock ached with the need to come, but Sam kept silent and kept control, biting his lip to focus as Dean pushed himself down upon Sam’s cock harder and harder.

Unable to stand it anymore, Sam thrust up hard when Dean came down on him, desperate to get deeper. He sat up, wrapping Dean’s arms around his back and begging hoarsely, “Kiss me!”

Dean bent down and took his mouth almost savagely, possessively. Yanking his hands free of Sam’s, he held tight to Sam while the rest of his body never stopped moving. Breaking off the kiss, Dean ordered, “Take me hard, Sammy, make me forget the world, baby brother.”

Suiting words to actions, Sam went to his knees, lifting Dean simultaneously and grateful, not for the first time, that he was bigger than his brother. Dropping them so that Dean was again on his back, Sam pushed Dean’s legs up as he plunged in and out of his brother’s hole. He used one hand to jack Dean, fucking him as hard as he could, moving on pure instinct to get as deep into his lover as possible.

Dean was the first to come, crying out as he spilled over them both, his body clamping down on Sam’s dick, which was still digging into him. Sam came seconds later, grinding down into Dean as he spilled hard and deep. With his breath harsh in his chest, Sam collapsed on Dean, undulating as his body released a couple of extra spurts.

Some unknown time later, Sam sighed deeply and moved to withdraw, but Dean gripped him tight and asked, “Stay?”

“Dean, I don’t want to hurt you,” Sam protested gently.

Smiling his crooked smile, Dean replied, “You couldn’t if you tried, baby brother. Just…stay. Sleep with me, okay?”

Sam gave in. There was no question that he wouldn’t. Right then, if Dean had asked him to rob Fort Knox, Sam would’ve found a way. Sleeping joined together was a pleasure he very, very rarely allowed himself, and only when Dean wanted it, for a multitude of reasons. The biggest reason was that they could have to run at a moment’s notice and he didn’t want to put Dean in any jeopardy by putting him at a physical disadvantage. But, since they were essentially on vacation for the next week or so, whatever Dean wanted, Dean got.

“Thanks, bro,” Dean murmured, yawning.

Smiling, Sam commented, “You won’t be thanking me in the morning.”

Dean huffed in amusement and replied, “That’s a whole five hours away so who cares? Night, Sammy. Love you.”

Sam kissed Dean’s chest. “Love you too, Dean. Sweet dreams.”

Despite his physical and emotional exhaustion, it was a long time before Sam allowed himself to go to sleep.