Fic: A Fact or a Weapon (Sam/Dean, NC-17) Part 9

“No, that’s not what I meant, not at all. I said it wrong, I’m sorry, I suck at talking about this stuff,” Dean says in a rush. He’s relieved to see Sam’s face brighten a little, some of the tenderness coming back around his eyes.

“What did you mean then?” Sam asks in a voice that sounds so hesitant and unnerved, it almost doesn’t sound like Sam at all.

“You and me, we’re soulmates, chosen by Chuck himself to be that way, right? We’ve dealt with that for only part of our lives, for a long time we didn’t even know that little tidbit.”

“But we felt it anyway,” Sam says.

“Yeah, we probably did. But think about it, Sam. Any time we’ve been separated, or tried to be with other people, what’s happened?”

“It sucked, either they died or worse,” Sam says.

“I don’t know if it’s because we’re soulmates, or just two old guys stuck in a rut doing the same thing, but I don’t want to do it any differently. I want to be with you, I choose you over everything any chance I get.”

“Same here, but what’s that have to do with—“ Sam asks.

“That’s the difference, Sammy, that we’re choosing,” Dean says, feeling this earnest honesty well up in his chest. It’s so damn important that Sam understands this. “Ever since we found out about being Chuck’s playthings, I’d been uncertain about it all, did we really have free will, all of that. But we did have it, otherwise we wouldn’t have won, and ended up together in a little house in Colorado. Just two brothers, skipping around the edges of the Apocalypse together.”

“Skipping? Not with your knees, dude,” Sam says with a small smile that warms Dean up inside, Sam gets it.

“Just like what I saw inside your noggin, let’s try that and see if it works out here in the real world,” Dean says.

Sam’s eyes answer him, filling with tears, blazing with unconcealed emotion. “Really, just like that?”

“It’s our choice to make, right? Chuck’s gone, it’s all up to us what we do with the rest of our lives.”

“You don’t want to go live in one of the other houses without me?” Sam asks.

“Hell no, of course not. Without you, what are you even talking about?” Dean asks.

“That was my worst case scenario, after what you saw inside my head, that you’d want to leave,” Sam admits.

“Sammy, that’s what I’m saying, I saw all that inside you, and I want it too. When you look inside me, don’t you see it?”

“I do see it, yeah, but I wasn’t sure if I was reading it right, or if it was something you were going to keep inside. You know, keep to yourself,” Sam says.

“Like I have all this time, yeah I get why you’d think that. No, I don’t want to hide it anymore, I want it out in the open so you can see it. I’m all in, Sammy, if you want that, let’s go for it,” Dean says.

Sam’s face un-shutters the rest of the way, his dimples begin to form and his smile is wide, going even wider. Dean can barely stand how beautiful his brother is when he smiles like this.

Sam leans up, pushing up onto his elbows, his lips brushing softly against Dean’s.

Dean feels himself sink into the feeling, he leans into Sam, pressing him back into the pillow. Sam’s hands are in his hair, turning his head into the just the right spot, he surges up, capturing the rest of Dean’s mouth. Tongue sweeping in, like Sam’s desperate to taste and to take. Dean’s hands press back a little and pulls back from the kiss, trying to slow it down, make it last. This is this very first one after all of these years of waiting after all. He wants it to count.

Sam’s making these needy little noises, nipping at Dean’s bottom lip, trying to sit up and takeover the action. Dean maneuvers himself so he’s laying on top of Sam, that will keep him down for a little bit. He uses the weight of his body to anchor Sam, to make him feel the realness of this thing that’s happening here and now between them. Sam’s hands roam all over his back, down to his ass and Dean can’t help making small thrusts into him, both of them harder than anything.

“Sammy, we need to,” Dean tries to say, murmuring the words into Sam’s frantically mobile mouth.

“Need you,” Sam says.

Dean groans at the thought. But the nurse is here, and maybe the doctor is coming, and Sam’s head injury and…

“Need you,” Sam says again, more insistent this time.

Dean hears the door lock itself and chair slides across to brace itself under the doorknob. “Okay, okay. Just take it easy, I don’t want you to hurt your head.”

“My head’s fine now, it’s the rest of me that’s the problem,” Sam says, thrusting up sharply into Dean’s belly and pulling him down so he can reach his lips.

Dean can’t help it, he kisses Sam right back, meeting Sam’s intensity with his own. His hand travels between them, undoing his own and Sam’s jeans. He’s got them both out and gasps when their hardnesses finally touch for the first time. He can barely wrap his hand around the both of them. Sam’s moaning and chanting his name as he starts thrusting rhythmically into the tight grip of Dean’s hand. Sam breaks away from kissing Dean to lick one of his own palms and add it to cover both of them more completely.

The feeling of Sam’s wet palm, that it’s rough and soft and that it’s Sam holding him, holding them, is all Dean can feel and think about, and he’s coming before he can say or do anything. With absolutely no warning, he’s off like a shot, emptying all over Sam’s belly. Sam scoops it up and strokes himself even faster and harder, Dean tries to help but he’s always so useless right after he comes. He can only keep kissing Sam, deep and searching, speaking the words urgent and hot into Sam’s mouth, “Come for me, Sammy.”

Sam’s whole body seizes, going rigid and they rise up off the bed a few inches as Sam comes all over the front of Dean’s shirt. They begin to sink down to the bed slowly before Dean has time to start flailing and freak out.

“That going to happen every time?” Dean grumbles into Sam’s chest.

Sam tightens his hold around Dean. “If you want it to, sure.” The door unlocks and the chair slides away from the door.

They fall asleep after tucking themselves away, and Dean sleeps better than he has in a month, all wrapped up together. The nurse knocks quietly after about an hour and peeks into the room. The two men are deeply asleep, and her patient looks better than he had when she saw him an hour ago. She doesn’t wake them, they look like they need the rest.

It’s been a few weeks since Sam has been back home, and they’ve been rearranging the furniture after finally getting a new king-sized bed delivered.

“If I’d only known when we bought the two full size mattresses, I would have gotten two king-sized ones,” Sam says.

“Nah, that’d take up too much space in your office,” Dean says.

“My office?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, I figure I get the garage, you can have this room for all your books and stuff,” Dean says.

“Can I still keep the gardening stuff in your garage?”

“Of course, it’s not going to be like that,” Dean says, pushing at the bed frame to get it into position against the wall. It catches on a floor board and he stumbles, crashing against the frame.

“Shit!” Dean cries as his shin scrapes against the metal.

“Is it your knee?” Sam asks, voice full of worry.

“No, the bionic one’s fine, just kinda twisted the other one,” Dean says, sinking down into the chair. He wishes they’d gotten the bed in position and made up, it’d be nice to lay down and not think about all this.

“You know you’ve got to get that one done sooner rather than later,” Sam says, kneeling in front of Dean and rolling up his jeans above his knee.

“I’m done with hospitals, Sammy, I can’t do it,” Dean says.

“Dean, I just don’t like seeing you in this much pain all the time,” Sam says, using the puppy eyes which is totally unfair and off limits in this situation.

“Don’t…dude, that’s not cool using those on me at a time like this,” Dean protests.

“How about this instead,” Sam says, giving Dean his best bedroom eyes instead of the puppy dog eyes.

That works, much more like it. Especially with Sam there, kneeling between his legs. He suddenly doesn’t give a shit about how much his knee is throbbing. Dean spreads his legs a little wider and looks down at the growing bulge between them.

“Looks like I better check this out,” Sam says, still with those bedroom eyes and a little smirk. He runs his hands up both of Dean’s thighs, and before Dean can overthink it, has his jeans opened up wide. Sam’s hair is tickling his belly as he licks and nips his way around, teasing Dean until he moans and puts his hand on the back of Sam’s head.

“That’s more like it,” Sam purrs against the head of Dean’s cock. He licks a few times, soft almost tentative licks, until he groans and takes Dean into his mouth in one heart stopping move.

Sam’s got him almost all the way inside, Dean can feel the softness at the back of Sam’s throat and he can’t help his small thrust forward. Sam almost gags, but holds himself down.

Dean can’t take his eyes off of this amazing scene, his hard cock sliding in and out of Sam’s pink lips, stretched so wide around him, taking him so deep. Sam’s doing something tricky and wicked with his tongue that makes it feel like there’s more than one of them in there, and it’s too much. Dean tries to tap the back of Sam’s head, to warn him at least, but Sam gives a little head shake and seems to suck just that little bit harder.

Dean’s toes begin to curl up inside his boots and his hair stands up on the back of his neck as they rise up out of the seat, hovering a few inches as he thrusts into Sam’s mouth. He’s coming and Sam’s swallowing and he’s yelling and then he’s helping Sam as their hands fly on Sam’s own neglected cock. A few moments after Sam’s come all over the chair and Dean’s jeans, they begin sinking back down to earth or whatever. Dean doesn’t care, he’s still floating as far as he knows.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I’ll do it. Sign me up or whatever,” Dean says in a post-coital slur.

Sam grins and kisses him deeply, sharing the taste with Dean until he’s wishing again that the bed was ready for them.

****
To Part 10