'Cos baby time has changed nothing at all - you're still the only one that feels like home.
And I've tried cutting the ropes, I let you go.
But you're still the only one that feels like home, yeah.
You're still the only one that feels like home.
You're still the only one I've gotta love.
xXx
Dean bit down hard on the inside of his cheek for the hundredth time that day, the reassuring taste of copper filling his overloaded and raw senses. They were supposed to be doing research, working, looking for Dad. That was why Dean had even gone to find Sam, why he’d bothered risking the safety of his denial and his shallow existence. To find Dad and save the only part of his family left- not break his heart all over again.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time, or the best chance anyway. Who better to help him find Dad then the one person who knew him as well as Dean did? It sucked, but so did the fact that he had to even argue with himself over it. Sam was his brother and sure at one time they’d been more, a lot more, but Dean should be able to go to him-for something like this at least.
Only now Dean couldn’t seem to control his hormones with Sam back. Every other thought always seeming to take a backseat to memories of Sam and what they‘d been. Fevered kisses and desperate promises that Dean had thought Sam needed as much as he did.
The lightest brush of shoulders or fingertips sending him spiraling back in time when things had been right between them. Before Sam decided it wasn’t enough.
Sam bumped his shoulder. “Dean,” he called impatiently, breaking Dean free of yet another tangent. He didn’t seem to be having any of the problems Dean was having, but then again he was the one that had left. Why would he want to do anything other then find Dad and get back to Jess?
Hadn’t taken much for Sam to move on, Dean noted angrily. Remembering how easily Sam had brushed him off for the blonde, something that would have been laughable if Sam’s arm hadn’t wrapped around her waist so possessively. The same way it had around Dean’s a few years back. Same fierce loyalty and intensity throughout his features as he let Dean know that anything he had to say, could be said in front of Jess. She was as much a part of Sam as Dean was, maybe more now. And the only reason Sam had backed down from that was because Dean had mentioned Dad.
Anything else and Sam would have blown him off all together. Why not? Dean had been replaced after all.
He glared at Sam and refocused his attention on the screen in front of him. He knew what he was supposed to be doing, he didn’t need anymore reminders from Sam. What he needed was some space. To be able to breathe without Sam filling his senses like he had every right to be there.
Ignoring his brother’s questioning gaze, Dean quickly typed in ‘female murder hitchhiking’, hoping they’d get a hit the first time around so he wouldn’t have to sit so close to Sam anymore. He could get up and let Sam do what he did best outside of breaking hearts, and pull the geek boy routine while Dean chatted with the locals. Or maybe relearn how to breathe before he passed out all together. Ya know, whatever.
No results flashed across the screen and he felt Sam inch closer, pent up aggression racing through his veins. Was Sam playing some kind of game with him? Was that what this was about? Do whatever he had to, to drive Dean insane and then walk out all over again? Never mind Dean had gone to Sam in the first place.
This time Dean typed in ‘female murder Centennial Highway’, concentrating extra hard on the keyboard. He narrowed his sight down to the black and white keys, seeing only letters and words that formed with a few quick tap of his fingertips. Not the drag of teeth across cherry swollen lips that came with the same ease of his touch a lifetime ago.
Again ‘no results’ flashed across the screen, and panic flared up in him. The memories threatening to overwhelm him with no escape this time. No quick exits open to him with Sam’s chair blocking him in, another row of computers to his side.
Sam reached for the mouse, his chest pressing against Dean’s back with thoughtlessness. “Let me try.”
“I got it,” Dean snapped, slapping Sam’s hand away. The sudden touch like a knife to the heart.
He’d spent four years without a word, without one damn thing from Sam, and it had been no different since his brother had been back. Now Sam felt comfortable enough with their break up to return to casual touches after only hours when Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready for that.
Sam leaned forward and pushed Dean’s chair away, rolling his own chair up in Dean’s place. Obviously not phased by Dean’s irritated reaction. Growling, he rolled his chair up behind Sam.
“You’re such a control freak,” he informed his brother irritably.
It was Sam’s fault he couldn’t focus completely in the first place. If he didn’t have to keep reliving their past every waking second, with a true to life reminder of it too, he might actually be able to make it through this job. Dean had managed just fine without Sam the past four years-memories and all.
He grinned and moved closer to Sam, an idea forming with the same blindness as going to Sam had. His brother may have been okay with the brief contact that had nearly killed Dean a moment ago, but how would he react to a more deliberate touch? It drove Sam nuts not having any control of what was happening, but there were some things even Sam couldn’t control. Like Dean.
“So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” Sam asked.
“Yeah,” Dean agreed, brushing his nose lightly through Sam’s hair, only half listening.
He let himself finally breathe his brother in, ignoring every warning bell going off in his head at the moment. Reliving memories was one thing-acting on them was something else entirely. Mostly dangerous.
Sam seemed to relax in his seat, moving back to meet Dean. “Maybe it’s not murder,” he suggested softly, his voice hesitant as he typed in ‘female suicide Centennial Highway‘. But
Dean was pretty sure it had more to do with their proximity and a lot less to do with his suggestion.
Dean paused a second, expecting another ‘no results found’ again. When an article came up, he shook his head in disbelief. Sam couldn’t have suggested that before Dean had completely lost his mind and started this?
Annoyed with Sam even more, Dean slipped his hands to Sam’s waist. Mouth moving to the back of Sam’s neck. His tongue flicked out, tasting salty sweet skin. He nearly moaned with the first taste of Sam in years, but quickly swallowed it. This was about breaking Sam, and he’d be damned if he gave in so easily.
“This was 1981,” Sam went on as if Dean were still seated a respectable distance away. “Constance Welch…”
Dean hummed in response, wondering if Sam was paying nearly as much attention to the article as he seemed. If he was, then Dean had some serious work to do.
There was already a hickey on the back of Sam’s neck that Dean was sure he’d flip over later when he realized it, but right now Sam was none the wiser and he was going to make sure he marked Sam as much as possible before one, or both of them, came to their senses.
“Twenty four years, jumps off Sylvania Bridge,“ Sam’s breath hitched as Dean‘s teeth scraped roughly against his skin, sinking in as they met his jaw. “drowns in the river,” he finished softly.
Releasing Sam‘s neck in favor of the juncture connecting it and his shoulder, Dean made a soft sound of polite indifference. “Does it say why she did it?” Dean asked absentmindedly, his hands sliding to the waist of Sam’s jeans, clearly forgetting where they were.
“Yeah-Dean?” Sam broke off shakily.
He wasn’t sure what did it, the uncertainty in his brother’s voice or his breathlessness, but the tables were suddenly turning and just like that, with an involuntarily groaned ‘Sammy’, Dean lost at his own game.
“Dean,” he whispered again, his hands covering Dean’s as they began to unzip his jeans. “What are you doing? I-”
“I know,” Dean interrupted, before Sam could bring up Jess himself.
Truthfully he didn’t know what he was doing anymore. Sam had someone waiting for him at home. He was only Dean’s for the weekend and Sam had made that perfectly clear from the moment Dean had regrettably set foot in his apartment. Still, it was nearly impossible to keep his hands to himself and he was amazed he’d made it this long without swallowing every one of Sam’s heart wrenching protests.
“I know you have her, but-” he broke off, his voice catching. He sounded so jealous and broken, and that wasn’t how he wanted Sam to see him.”Its hard to let go when you’re here.”
He slipped his hands further underneath Sam’s shirt, fingers sliding over heated skin.
“God, you’re here,” he murmured, fingers tightening possessively. He still couldn’t believe that Sam was here with him, no matter what truth Sam offered.
Sam gasped his agreement and slid an arm around the back of Dean’s neck, dragging him closer. Grinning, Dean dropped his mouth back to the juncture of Sam’s neck and shoulder to continue the blood bruise he’d been working on before he’d been so needlessly interrupted.
He let his hands wander, encouraged when Sam whimpered almost inaudibly against his neck. Sam may have Jess, but Dean could still work Sam over like no one else. His stomach heaved at the comparison. That wasn’t what this was about, Jess didn’t have anything to do with this, or them. Dean just wanted Sam, wanted them back.
“Dean,” Sam gasped softly, fingers tightening around Dean’s neck. “Wait.”
He bit sharply at Sam’s throat and palmed Sam’s half hard cock, feeling his hips jerk almost violently. “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he lied quickly, afraid that anything more would only scare his brother away.
That wasn’t what Dean wanted to say, wasn’t anything near what he meant, but Sam had Jess. He had to keep reminding himself of that and take what Sam was willing to give while he stuck around, otherwise Dean would only be left with more regrets. At least this way he was left with the faint taste of Sam.
Suddenly Sam’s hands were pushing his away and he was jumping to his feet, putting as much distance as he could between them in the small space the computer area had to offer. Panting, Sam glared down at him. His hair rumpled and his lips chewed pink. If he didn’t look so angry Dean might have given up all pretenses and fucked Sam over the desk-to hell with
Jess and everyone else.
“Sammy?” he asked hoarsely, hoping like hell Sam’s anger was of the geek boy nature and what he really wanted was to do this someplace else-like their motel room. Except that would be too easy, would mean no complications, and Dean had learned long ago that with them, there was no such thing as easy.
“What did you miss more, Dean?” Sam growled. “Me-or the fucking?”
Like Whoa by Poetically_Pathetic
Author's Notes:
Haha this is gonna sound so dorky I’m sure, but I was listening through iTunes samples of Aly and Aj’s new cd, and this song on there is called ‘Like Whoa’ and I felt that the lyrics matched in an odd sort of way…so yeah. That song might be more of Sam’s point of view, and ‘Ten Days’ by Missy Higgins is more sort of Dean’s if ya want a bit of a soundtrack. As usual, much love and thanks to my wonderful and (constantly) overworked beta, Miss Cinnamon. She IS my miracle worker! Leave reviews ya'll, they keep the muse happy and hopefully Miss Cinnamon motivated as well!