Rediscovery, 1/1, Sam/Dean
Dec. 7th, 2014 10:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mangacat201Title: Rediscovery
Author: Mangacat(201)
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2k
Summary: They’re tentative in their approach toward each other, but Sam has spent too much time in his life looking, not looking and grieving for his brother; he just hasn’t got the time to waste anymore.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural and don’t make a claim to its creative or economic profit. Just shoveling in the sandbox for a bit, I’ll give them back after playing. Promise.
Spoilers: Full spoilers up to S10E03
Warnings: established relationship, car sex(ish), hurt/comfort
A/N: So, this is my Halloween treat for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tuckercat2 who’s been very patiently waiting for me to get my shit together enough to write it way past the deadline. And because again, I’m a fabulous multi-tasker, it is also a ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
hc_bingo fill for the prompt: family. Also, silkylustre wanted car sex, which I couldn’t give a home to in our project, so this off-shoot it is.
Also on AO3
Sam is still not quite done digesting the whole game of cat and mouse in the bunker and the subsequent rehumanizing of Dean, but the fifth of whiskey he’s managed to down while his brother gobbles up an impressive slice of pie helps. They watch each other over the table awkwardly, Sam with the bottle in hand that he keeps pointedly out of Dean’s reach and the other man equally pointedly preoccupied with the food in front of him. They can’t talk to each other, but they also can’t bear being apart, letting the other out of their sight even while everything that happened lies between them like an invisible barrier neither has the courage to breach. It’s like they’re puzzle pieces that have had their edges filed away and now they just don’t fit right anymore.
It shouldn’t surprise Sam that after another loss and reunion, just having his brother back and human again doesn’t erase all the shit that’s happened between them, no matter how much he wants to let it go. But right now, he’s definitely too drunk and too drained to even try and untangle that mess into something remotely bearable. He gets up from the table and tells Dean he’s going to turn in for the night, ignoring the look in his brother’s face that speaks of so much that Dean wants to address, but apparently can’t find the words to express. He doesn’t stop Sam from stumbling towards his room with unsteady steps and Sam pretends it doesn’t make his skin crawl to leave Dean sitting out in the reading hall on his own. The alcohol clouding his mind together with a bone-deep, enduring exhaustion drags Sam off to sleep almost the moment he burrows his head into the pillow on his bed. But it does little to drown out the voices that nag him about the fact that even though he witnessed Dean coming back of sound mind and body, if a bit worse for wear and burdened with a brand new set of regrets, there’s still something off in the dynamic between them. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.
~*~
Sam wakes up with his internal clock calling late morning even before he turns around and throws a weary look at the alarm clock on the bedside table. He debates for a moment to turn around and burrow himself into the pillow again, but aside from a familiar ache in his head, his mind clear and he can’t see the merit of staying in bed when he’s obviously not going back to sleep. He takes a justifiable detour to the kitchen via Dean’s room and commends himself that he actually remembers to knock instead of just barging in and making his brother share his bleary-eyed fate so they can be comfortably uncomfortable in each other’s presence some more. It turns out Dean is not in his room, and Sam feels a hook of pained worry sink into him at the sight of the rumpled, empty bed. He calms himself down with the conclusion that Dean is probably up and in the kitchen already, having breakfast early after getting considerably less drunk last night.
When Dean doesn’t turn up at any of their usual haunts in the bunker – the kitchen, the reading hall, the map room – however, Sam slowly gets agitated. Actually, he starts slamming doors and not so subtly calling out pretty much instantly. The ruckus draws out Castiel, who takes one look at Sam and doesn’t even need to be asked.
“I believe you may find him in the garage.”
Sam stops short and feels like hitting himself over the head for not thinking about it sooner. The garage is not so much a part of the bunker, but a small shed Dean had constructed a few yards behind the entrance, because ‘there’s no way I’m putting down roots where I gotta leave my baby out in the cold’. Sam hurries out the front door and towards the small building, heart irrationally pounding fast in his ears. The door is slightly ajar and when Sam throws it open, he sees only the Impala’s passenger door wide open and Dean’s boots drooping towards the ground.
“Dean!”
The muffled thump and colourful curse, followed by Dean’s irritated, but thankfully unhurt face appearing above the dashboard calm Sam’s heart rate right down.
“What are you doing?”
Sam would like to claim that his voice doesn’t sound a little strangled from the unwitting scare he’d caused himself, but his brother’s lifting brows indicate that he’s caught onto it all the same. Still, Dean apparently decides not to mention it, because he just answers Sam’s question in a tone that says ‘well, duh’.
“Have you looked at the utter filth in here? There was no way I could let Baby sit like that any longer.”
Sam walks around the open door and realizes that Dean is kneeling on the foot rest, rummaging around the seats and the foot-well. He’s stuffing a half-filled trash bag with the detritus that has accumulated in the car during Dean’s demon binge.
Watching his brother mutter apologies under his breath while he carefully brushes crumbs from the leather he so obviously hadn’t cared for while away makes something in Sam grow warm and knit together. That part of him was broken so long the pieces were grating against each other on the inside and it takes his breath away for a moment to feel the absence of pain he has carried around for such a long time. But then everything slips into place and there’s only one course of action left.
“Dean.”
The sound is so small, hesitant that Sam half assumes Dean won’t even hear it. But his brother answers with a ‘hmmm?’, though he continues to gather trash without turning around.
“Dean.”
This time, Sam manages to put some urgency into it, and Dean turns towards him.
“Come here.”
Sam says it softly, holds out his hand to Dean. His brother’s eyes jump between his outstretched hand and his eyes for a moment. Then, Dean must read something on his face, because he reaches out to grasp Sam’s hand with a cautious, but hopeful expression. Sam tugs him up and out of the car in one fluid motion. He wastes no time with any more pleasantries, burying his fingers in the short hair at the nape of Dean’s neck and licks his way past Dean’s lips without so much as by your leave.
It’s something they haven’t done in so long that it feels new and familiar at the same time. But like a flame that was sputtering low and is now back to burning bright, Dean catches up quickly and they fall into a tried and true rhythm. There’s a hint of teeth in it, a lingering remnant of the hurt they caused each other in the past couple of years and the give and take of a not quite serious battle for dominance. All Sam knows in this moment is that this is the best his felt in forever, heart pumping fast, heat rising through his body and the feel of Dean against him all he wants and not enough.
Dean lets him explore and lose himself for a few more moments before breaking the kiss reluctantly.
“Sam.”
So many questions in that one word: What is happening here? Are we really doing this? Are you sure? What about…?
But Sam isn’t particularly interested in answering any of those right now. He tries to draw Dean back in immediately.
“No, Sam, what…? Where is this coming from?”
Sam sighs, but loosens his grip on Dean a little.
“Look, can we not…?”
He takes a deep breath and tries to figure out a way to express the depth of what he’s feeling.
“I…”, he gestures at the Impala and then at Dean. “It’s just, you’re…”
And that’s when Dean gets it, understanding lighting up his features. His expression softens and he cradles Sam’s cheek, the movement slow, hesitant, as if he still isn’t sure it’s his place to touch Sam this way.
“I’m me. And you’re you.”
Sam closes his eyes and leans into Dean’s hand, tightening his own grip on his brother’s hip.
“Dean, I need…”
He feels Dean yield, recline against the Impala’s back door and draw him closer before whispering: “Yeah, okay. Anything you want, Sammy.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice, catching Dean’s lips in a searing kiss once more. This time, however, he isn’t satisfied with pressing Dean back into the sleek lines of the car with the bulk of this body. He lets his hands roam underneath Dean’s jacket, up and down his sides, before going for the belt. His fingers skitter over the leather, whipping it out with great eagerness, and he has just enough sense left to keep the buckle from scratching the paint job before he drops it, or this would have been over fast.
They have ample experience with keeping each other occupied with their mouths while getting their clothes off. But right now, Sam doesn’t make time for more than unbuttoning Dean’s pants and sliding down the zipper before he shoves his hand beneath the waistband. Dean groans into his mouth from the touch, canting his hips into Sam's rhythm, shoving his pants further down with shaky hands, before holding onto the roof of the Impala for more leverage. Sam enjoys the way he knows how to play Dean like a finely tuned instrument, which twist will making suck in a sharp breath, which stroke will make him cry out. The muscles in Sam's abdomen tighten with arousal way before Dean gets his wits about him enough to make an attempt at Sam's fly in return. Once he does though, it’s just a frenzy of lips and hands, grinding against each other, breathless and lost in sensation.
Sam tries to pour every ounce of desperate, grateful emotion into his touch and feels Dean respond in kind. They breathe each other's air in sighs and groans until it’s just a race to the top. Even the awkward tangle of arms doesn’t matter because climax lifts the weight they carry for a few precious seconds.
Sam comes down, breathing heavily, and not at all embarrassed that they made each other come in their pants like teenagers. He peppers Dean’s jaw with light, fleeting kisses, the kind of affectionate move his brother normally wouldn’t stand for even in post-coital bliss. But for some reason, Dean allows it this time.
“That was… unexpected.”
Sam hides a small smile in Dean’s throat.
“Yeah.”
“You think you can let me up now, go in and take a shower to get rid of this mess before I finish cleaning out my car?”
Sam wants to say no, wants to bask in the sensation of something that’s been so badly damaged slowly healing again. Finally though, he relents and gives Dean enough space to step away from the car. He expects Dean to wrinkle his nose at the mess and then stalk off with a gruff dismissal, but his brother surprises him again by tangling their hands together and stealing one last, lingering kiss.
“Come on.”
Dean tugs him along, towards the bunker’s entrance and this time, Sam doesn’t make any effort to conceal his bright smile.
Author: Mangacat(201)
Pairing/Characters: Sam/Dean
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~2k
Summary: They’re tentative in their approach toward each other, but Sam has spent too much time in his life looking, not looking and grieving for his brother; he just hasn’t got the time to waste anymore.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural and don’t make a claim to its creative or economic profit. Just shoveling in the sandbox for a bit, I’ll give them back after playing. Promise.
Spoilers: Full spoilers up to S10E03
Warnings: established relationship, car sex(ish), hurt/comfort
A/N: So, this is my Halloween treat for
tuckercat2 who’s been very patiently waiting for me to get my shit together enough to write it way past the deadline. And because again, I’m a fabulous multi-tasker, it is also a hc_bingo fill for the prompt: family. Also, silkylustre wanted car sex, which I couldn’t give a home to in our project, so this off-shoot it is.Also on AO3
Sam is still not quite done digesting the whole game of cat and mouse in the bunker and the subsequent rehumanizing of Dean, but the fifth of whiskey he’s managed to down while his brother gobbles up an impressive slice of pie helps. They watch each other over the table awkwardly, Sam with the bottle in hand that he keeps pointedly out of Dean’s reach and the other man equally pointedly preoccupied with the food in front of him. They can’t talk to each other, but they also can’t bear being apart, letting the other out of their sight even while everything that happened lies between them like an invisible barrier neither has the courage to breach. It’s like they’re puzzle pieces that have had their edges filed away and now they just don’t fit right anymore.
It shouldn’t surprise Sam that after another loss and reunion, just having his brother back and human again doesn’t erase all the shit that’s happened between them, no matter how much he wants to let it go. But right now, he’s definitely too drunk and too drained to even try and untangle that mess into something remotely bearable. He gets up from the table and tells Dean he’s going to turn in for the night, ignoring the look in his brother’s face that speaks of so much that Dean wants to address, but apparently can’t find the words to express. He doesn’t stop Sam from stumbling towards his room with unsteady steps and Sam pretends it doesn’t make his skin crawl to leave Dean sitting out in the reading hall on his own. The alcohol clouding his mind together with a bone-deep, enduring exhaustion drags Sam off to sleep almost the moment he burrows his head into the pillow on his bed. But it does little to drown out the voices that nag him about the fact that even though he witnessed Dean coming back of sound mind and body, if a bit worse for wear and burdened with a brand new set of regrets, there’s still something off in the dynamic between them. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.
~*~
Sam wakes up with his internal clock calling late morning even before he turns around and throws a weary look at the alarm clock on the bedside table. He debates for a moment to turn around and burrow himself into the pillow again, but aside from a familiar ache in his head, his mind clear and he can’t see the merit of staying in bed when he’s obviously not going back to sleep. He takes a justifiable detour to the kitchen via Dean’s room and commends himself that he actually remembers to knock instead of just barging in and making his brother share his bleary-eyed fate so they can be comfortably uncomfortable in each other’s presence some more. It turns out Dean is not in his room, and Sam feels a hook of pained worry sink into him at the sight of the rumpled, empty bed. He calms himself down with the conclusion that Dean is probably up and in the kitchen already, having breakfast early after getting considerably less drunk last night.
When Dean doesn’t turn up at any of their usual haunts in the bunker – the kitchen, the reading hall, the map room – however, Sam slowly gets agitated. Actually, he starts slamming doors and not so subtly calling out pretty much instantly. The ruckus draws out Castiel, who takes one look at Sam and doesn’t even need to be asked.
“I believe you may find him in the garage.”
Sam stops short and feels like hitting himself over the head for not thinking about it sooner. The garage is not so much a part of the bunker, but a small shed Dean had constructed a few yards behind the entrance, because ‘there’s no way I’m putting down roots where I gotta leave my baby out in the cold’. Sam hurries out the front door and towards the small building, heart irrationally pounding fast in his ears. The door is slightly ajar and when Sam throws it open, he sees only the Impala’s passenger door wide open and Dean’s boots drooping towards the ground.
“Dean!”
The muffled thump and colourful curse, followed by Dean’s irritated, but thankfully unhurt face appearing above the dashboard calm Sam’s heart rate right down.
“What are you doing?”
Sam would like to claim that his voice doesn’t sound a little strangled from the unwitting scare he’d caused himself, but his brother’s lifting brows indicate that he’s caught onto it all the same. Still, Dean apparently decides not to mention it, because he just answers Sam’s question in a tone that says ‘well, duh’.
“Have you looked at the utter filth in here? There was no way I could let Baby sit like that any longer.”
Sam walks around the open door and realizes that Dean is kneeling on the foot rest, rummaging around the seats and the foot-well. He’s stuffing a half-filled trash bag with the detritus that has accumulated in the car during Dean’s demon binge.
Watching his brother mutter apologies under his breath while he carefully brushes crumbs from the leather he so obviously hadn’t cared for while away makes something in Sam grow warm and knit together. That part of him was broken so long the pieces were grating against each other on the inside and it takes his breath away for a moment to feel the absence of pain he has carried around for such a long time. But then everything slips into place and there’s only one course of action left.
“Dean.”
The sound is so small, hesitant that Sam half assumes Dean won’t even hear it. But his brother answers with a ‘hmmm?’, though he continues to gather trash without turning around.
“Dean.”
This time, Sam manages to put some urgency into it, and Dean turns towards him.
“Come here.”
Sam says it softly, holds out his hand to Dean. His brother’s eyes jump between his outstretched hand and his eyes for a moment. Then, Dean must read something on his face, because he reaches out to grasp Sam’s hand with a cautious, but hopeful expression. Sam tugs him up and out of the car in one fluid motion. He wastes no time with any more pleasantries, burying his fingers in the short hair at the nape of Dean’s neck and licks his way past Dean’s lips without so much as by your leave.
It’s something they haven’t done in so long that it feels new and familiar at the same time. But like a flame that was sputtering low and is now back to burning bright, Dean catches up quickly and they fall into a tried and true rhythm. There’s a hint of teeth in it, a lingering remnant of the hurt they caused each other in the past couple of years and the give and take of a not quite serious battle for dominance. All Sam knows in this moment is that this is the best his felt in forever, heart pumping fast, heat rising through his body and the feel of Dean against him all he wants and not enough.
Dean lets him explore and lose himself for a few more moments before breaking the kiss reluctantly.
“Sam.”
So many questions in that one word: What is happening here? Are we really doing this? Are you sure? What about…?
But Sam isn’t particularly interested in answering any of those right now. He tries to draw Dean back in immediately.
“No, Sam, what…? Where is this coming from?”
Sam sighs, but loosens his grip on Dean a little.
“Look, can we not…?”
He takes a deep breath and tries to figure out a way to express the depth of what he’s feeling.
“I…”, he gestures at the Impala and then at Dean. “It’s just, you’re…”
And that’s when Dean gets it, understanding lighting up his features. His expression softens and he cradles Sam’s cheek, the movement slow, hesitant, as if he still isn’t sure it’s his place to touch Sam this way.
“I’m me. And you’re you.”
Sam closes his eyes and leans into Dean’s hand, tightening his own grip on his brother’s hip.
“Dean, I need…”
He feels Dean yield, recline against the Impala’s back door and draw him closer before whispering: “Yeah, okay. Anything you want, Sammy.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice, catching Dean’s lips in a searing kiss once more. This time, however, he isn’t satisfied with pressing Dean back into the sleek lines of the car with the bulk of this body. He lets his hands roam underneath Dean’s jacket, up and down his sides, before going for the belt. His fingers skitter over the leather, whipping it out with great eagerness, and he has just enough sense left to keep the buckle from scratching the paint job before he drops it, or this would have been over fast.
They have ample experience with keeping each other occupied with their mouths while getting their clothes off. But right now, Sam doesn’t make time for more than unbuttoning Dean’s pants and sliding down the zipper before he shoves his hand beneath the waistband. Dean groans into his mouth from the touch, canting his hips into Sam's rhythm, shoving his pants further down with shaky hands, before holding onto the roof of the Impala for more leverage. Sam enjoys the way he knows how to play Dean like a finely tuned instrument, which twist will making suck in a sharp breath, which stroke will make him cry out. The muscles in Sam's abdomen tighten with arousal way before Dean gets his wits about him enough to make an attempt at Sam's fly in return. Once he does though, it’s just a frenzy of lips and hands, grinding against each other, breathless and lost in sensation.
Sam tries to pour every ounce of desperate, grateful emotion into his touch and feels Dean respond in kind. They breathe each other's air in sighs and groans until it’s just a race to the top. Even the awkward tangle of arms doesn’t matter because climax lifts the weight they carry for a few precious seconds.
Sam comes down, breathing heavily, and not at all embarrassed that they made each other come in their pants like teenagers. He peppers Dean’s jaw with light, fleeting kisses, the kind of affectionate move his brother normally wouldn’t stand for even in post-coital bliss. But for some reason, Dean allows it this time.
“That was… unexpected.”
Sam hides a small smile in Dean’s throat.
“Yeah.”
“You think you can let me up now, go in and take a shower to get rid of this mess before I finish cleaning out my car?”
Sam wants to say no, wants to bask in the sensation of something that’s been so badly damaged slowly healing again. Finally though, he relents and gives Dean enough space to step away from the car. He expects Dean to wrinkle his nose at the mess and then stalk off with a gruff dismissal, but his brother surprises him again by tangling their hands together and stealing one last, lingering kiss.
“Come on.”
Dean tugs him along, towards the bunker’s entrance and this time, Sam doesn’t make any effort to conceal his bright smile.
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Date: 2014-12-07 04:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2014-12-08 07:19 am (UTC)Thanks so much for the r&r!!