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Sam sips his beer and glances over at his brother. He’s grinning and flirting with a girl across the bar, hoping to get lucky. It’s not long before his brother signals to him that he scored and the motel room is off limits until further notice.
He waited twenty minutes before following. His heart was pounding in his chest and his stomach twisted. He knows he should turn around, go back to the bar, order another beer or six. Wait until his brother texted him the all-clear to come back, but Sam doesn’t listen to that feeling much anymore. He’s regretted quite a few times for listening to his inner sixth sense of what he likes to call his self-preservation.
Dean and the women are still going at it, of course. The curtains are closed, there’s a sock on the door. Sam sits down on the curb of the footway next to the Impala and looks up at the dark sky as he listens to the groans and grunts and barely audible dirty talk behind him. He focuses more on the sound of his brother than the girl but he wonders if he’d sound like that if it was him that Dean was fucking so enthusiastically.
He wondered if Dean thought of him as his dick thrust in and out of his partner. Not for the first time, Sam wondered if Dean remembered when they were kids. When Sam was maybe six or seven and Dean had tried to put his cock in his mouth, tried goading Sam to lick like a lollipop. Sam obviously didn’t understand at the time, but he knew something was bad about it. His stomach ached and something in his brain told him something was just not right about it. He brushed his brother off and asked about dinner and went to read his book. Dean didn’t suggest it again.
Sam wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t listened to his gut feelings that day. If he went over and licked and sucked his big brother’s dick. Would he be on his knees today, his brother standing over him, his hand gripping his hair pushing Sam’s head further down his cock, further down Sam’s throat? Sam would know what his big brother tasted like if he had.
He wondered if Dean remembered how he had pretended to trip and fall on top of Sam to rut against him for a few moments before ‘finding his bearings’ and getting off of him. Even at the young age he had been Sam somehow knew that it wasn’t what Dean was making it out to be, but he continued to brush it off every time it happened erratically for nearly two years. He called his big brother clumsy but didn’t comment on Dean grinding his hips against him or how long it took for him to back away, or the hardness in his pants.
Sam wondered what would have happened if he brought up Dean’s erection or the grinding or the falace falls at the time. Would he and Dean be rutting against each other now? Would Sam and Dean’s naked hard cocks be pressed together, hips rocking, as they kissed?
He wondered if Dean would be solely his and his alone if he had gone along with it. Would Dean have never sought out another partner? Would they be together?
More importantly, he wondered if Dean remembered. He didn’t blame Dean, not then and not now. He was slightly scared then, it was natural considering he didn’t understand why or what Dean was trying to do, but he also trusted Dean to keep him safe. And he had stopped altogether when Sam reached nine or ten, pretending it never happened at all, so Sam also pretended it didn’t happen.
It made more sense when he learned about sex, by then Dean had already been having sex with girls. He considered asking but never got up the courage, but he didn’t miss the way his brother looked at him, especially when he started to get boners and ‘tried’ to hide them from his big brother. But Dean didn’t touch him again. Not that Dean actually touched him, so he was just confused as to why he was always thinking about it. Why he wondered all these what ifs and wished his brother had done more , wished his brother continued .
As he got older he chalked it to overactive hormones, too close quarters, too little supervision. Dean was just a kid himself, hardly in his teens, but he was older than Sam, so he must remember, right? Sam remembered and he wondered if Dean wondered if he remembered. It was a conundrum but Sam would rather take it to the grave than ever ask him about it, even if one of the possibilities was that Dean would continue, that Dean would finally reach out and touch him where he wanted him to.
He knows he’s completely fucked in the head. He knows that what happened between them, what Dean started was just plain inappropriate and no one normal would ever want it to continue, to escalate. But Sam craved it, he thought about it every day, and he wanted his brother all to himself. Nothing in their life was normal so why would their relationship be?
Sam jumped when the door behind him opened. He felt incredibly stupid for losing himself in his head. He stands and pats his clothes off. The woman flicks her hair off her shoulder and purrs to Dean to have a good night.
Dean has a shit-eating grin on his face as he sees her off, he’s still missing his shirt and his pants aren’t buttoned or zipped, but he does have his boxers on underneath. Then he spots him. “S-Sam?” Dean looks a little tense. “Wh—h-how long were you sitting out here?”
Sam shrugs. “Not long, I just got here,” he says. “Didn’t want to drink anymore, didn’t think the walk over would be so short though. Glad the timing was right though, really didn’t want to sit out here.”
The room smelled of sex and Dean’s jackets, boots, and socks were scattered all over the floor. Dean’s bed is in disorder, his blanket half on and half hanging off, while Sam’s remains perfectly untouched a foot away. Sam wondered if he and Dean were together would they still have two beds? He decides that they probably would, considering Dean would either be too put off or too shy to ask for a single seeing as they’re two guys. He was always on edge when people thought they were gay. He wondered about that too.
“Hey, are you alright?”
Sam turned toward his brother. “Huh?”
Dean was watching him closely. “You… seem distracted.”
He shrugged. “It’s nothing, just thinking. Maybe I’m a little drunk, but I’m fine.”
Dean approached him, but suddenly stumbled over his boot and lurched forward, slamming Sam into the wall. And shit, Sam’s had this fantasy before.
Dean flushes cherry red as he looks up into Sam’s face. Then he looked slightly confused as he stared up at him. “S-Sammy?” he murmurs. Sam couldn’t read his face, too many emotions passing through it.
“Hmm?”
“You, uh… okay?” Dean searched his eyes.
“Yeah.” Sam tilts his head slightly. “Are you, clumsy?” Dean’s jaw clenched and he pulls away now. Disappointed Sam says, “If you didn’t just toss your clothes and stuff in the middle of the room you wouldn’t trip over it, like you—” Sam swallows the rest of it down. Like you used to. He was close to bringing it up, he was getting careless. He blamed it on the stench of sex, his brother’s proximity and stumble, and the fact that he was reminiscing.
He shakes his head and starts for the bathroom, but pauses in the doorway when Dean speaks up. “Hey, do you, uh…” Dean looks a little uncertain. “Do you remember when we were kids?”
Sam’s heart pounds. “Remember what exactly? We got up to a lot as kids. There a specific memory?”
Dean scratches his neck as he avoids looking at him. “Uh… how about, um, wh-when you were like… five and you broke your arm?”
Sam smiles. So Dean was wondering how far back Sam could remember. “Yeah, I remember that. I was dressed up as Batman and jumped off a shed following after my big brother, Superman, who jumped first. You drove me to the hospital on your handlebars, which I still swear you stole that bike from the Davis kid at school.”
Dean scoffed. “I didn’t steal it, I totally earned that bike.”
“Sure, what were you playing poker with him at nine years old?”
Dean gnawed on his cheek. “You even remember the name of the kid who the bike belonged to?”
Sam shrugged. “Guess so. Don’t you remember stupid little things like that?”
Dean shrugs. “How about, uh…” Dean glances at him. “You’re, uh… sixth birthday?”
Sam tilts his head as he thinks. He was certain Dean hadn’t asked him to suck his dick on his birthday, so he was still fishing. “Wasn’t it just like any other? You and me, the motel. Maybe something caky, like a Twinkie? Not that exciting.”
“Exciting?”
Sam shrugs. “You’re more likely to remember something if it gives you a strong emotion, something big happened. I broke my arm, I got hurt and I was scared. You were too but you took care of me—got me to the hospital. Why are we playing the remembering game, Dean? There something specific you’re searching for?”
Dean cringed. “No, shut up.” He turns away and starts to pick up his clothes.
Sam glared at his back, unsure why he was so angry. “God, Dean, open a fucking window will you, smells like a damn whore house in here,” he says and ducks into the bathroom.
They ignored each other as they got ready for bed. It wasn’t unusual.
It also wasn’t unusual to find himself scowling at the wall as he felt eyes on his back. He ignored it even as words bubbled onto his tongue to tell his brother off for staring.
“You called me clumsy,” Dean whispers in the dark. For a moment Sam thought he misheard what he said, or that maybe he had fallen asleep.
“Because you tripped over your own shoe,” he muttered. His stomach twisted as his brain told him to shut up and drop it. He hated feeling like this. He hated listening to that feeling. “Hey, Dean?”
“What?”
God, what was he doing? “I… do you think that… if I had sucked your dick when you asked would we still be doing that today?”
Dean bolted upright, breathing gasping. “S-Sam…” he croaked.
“I was just wondering.”
“W-wondering? Jesus, I’m sorry, Sam, I’m so fucking sorry.”
“It’s okay, Dean, I’m not angry. I was just wondering and that’s what you were trying to hint at earlier, right? If I remembered?”
“You… you’re not… angry?”
“Mmm, no, not even a little.”
“W-why would you, uh… be wondering, um… about that anyway?”
He didn’t know himself. “I don’t know. I just find myself thinking about it. A lot. What if I had? Where would that have led us today?”
Dean was quiet, Sam hated it. What is he thinking over there? Did Sam just ruin everything? Should he have listened to his brain this time? God, he was a fucking idiot.
“S-Sammy?”
“Y-yeah?”
“Do… you want to taste something good?”
Sam’s stomach twisted, his brain said no, but his mouth said, “Yeah.”
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