Title: Closer Than Brothers
Rating: PG13 for now
Spoilers: Set during the pilot episode. One line of dialogue, taken from the script.
Feedback/Concrit: darkhavens @ slashverse.com
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Warnings/Squicks: Incestuous longings
Summary: Sam has an epiphany
Notes: Written for stagesoflove Challenge #1 - 'Attraction'. Also posted here.
Dean shoved him back against the rail support and leaned in close, incandescent fury in his eyes. That was all it took to get Sam hard.
In that split second, four years of urgent blowjobs in seedy nightclub washrooms, fumbling handjobs tucked away in shadowed dance floor corners and anonymous sex in rubbish-strewn alleys flashed through Sam's mind. And every slightly shorter, stocky, cocky, smart-mouthed pickup was suddenly overlaid with Dean's face.
It was an epiphany. Possibly the most inconveniently timed epiphany in the history of epiphanies, but it was his, and he embraced it.
Since leaving home, Sam had spent the whole time trying to find a new Dean, hunting him in shady dives and lowlife pool hall joints. Anywhere that looked the kind of place where Dean would go to hustle, Sam had jotted down the name to hit the next time he felt lost. He felt lost often.
He loved Jess, he knew that, it was written on his soul. She'd helped him put himself together once the rush burned off - the rush of freedom, independence, out here on my own exuberance. It had been a most spectacular crash, and Jess had been there ready with a smile, a gentle touch, a warm soft body wrapped around his own to keep the ghosts away.
Yeah, Sam loved Jess, but he needed Dean. He hungered for the touch of callused hands and scarred familiar skin, the closeness they had shared as boys, refocused, viewed through some obscene kaleidoscope of shattered, coloured mirrors.
How could he choose?
"Don’t talk about her like that."
Dean let go, stepped back and turned away and the world closed in on Sam, cold and cruel, leaving him vertiginous and shaky.
He was so screwed.
He was disconcerted by the sudden rush of lust and fear in Sam's eyes as he collided with the bridge support, but Dean refused to be distracted.
Plenty of time later to think back on this and wonder if the heat against his thigh, for that brief second, was caused by him or simply one of the side effects of being on a hunt again.
Plenty of time to lie awake and wonder, to marvel at the man who wore his baby brother's skin and sweet smile.
Plenty of time to decide it was safer to blame it on adrenaline.