
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/372385.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester, Mary_Winchester, Bobby
      Singer, Karen_Singer
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Pre-Series
  Series:
      Part 1 of Distance_'Verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-03-31 Words: 3176
****** A Thousand Miles to Get There ******
by alakewood
Summary
     Dean's not quite sure when it happened, but somewhere along the line
     he and Sam started messing around – it started with chaste kisses and
     graduated to more physical expressions of their desire. And, at some
     point, he fell in love with his little brother. Now, while on a
     cross-country roadtrip with his family, in the deceptive privacy of
     their RV, Dean has to prove to Sam that going away to college isn't
     going to change how he feels.
         [http://pics.livejournal.com/alakewood/pic/0002ezgk/s320x240]
They're stopped for the rest of the day at some bare-bones RV park just off an
arrow-straight stretch of highway in southern Wyoming. Dean steps down from
their “summer home” to an expansive view of rolling, rocky hills and endless
blue skies. He rounds the camper to take in the sight across the highway –
looming in the distance is the solitary peak of Elk Mountain. Or, maybe, Rock
Mountain. He's not too sure which it is because he was just starting to wake
from his nap when his mother explained where they were stopping.
His parents come up behind him, his mom armed with her camera, always
documenting everything. “Go get Sammy,” she tells him. “I want to get a
picture.”
Dean heaves a forced put-upon sigh and stalks back around the RV. Sam's still
inside, up in the cabover bunk, sprawled across the bed playing Call of Duty.
Dean widens the gap in the half-drawn curtains and leans against the ladder,
arms folded over the edge of the mattress. “Picture time. Mom's orders.”
As expected, Dean's answered with attitude. It's like the further west they
get, the moodier Sam gets. With each passing mile, Sam becomes that much
bitchier. Dean's about ready to call him out on it and they're barely a third
of the way through summer. Per typical Sam, he rolls his eyes and makes a big
show of saving his game and turning off his Xbox and the TV. It's not like
Dean's the one asking for a favor.
Dean backs away from the ladder and heads outside to wait for his brother. He's
not really used to this side of Sam. Sure, he's caught glimpses of it here and
there as Sam's matured into a teenager, but rarely has the attitude stuck.
Sam's been alternately emo and hostile for weeks. Dean doesn't know what to do
to fix this or help, isn't sure if it's something he did or didn't do. “Sammy?”
he tries as Sam exits the camper, but Sam just dodges his outstretched hand.
He's forced to try a different tactic – anything to get some kind of reaction.
“That time of the month, Sammy?” he questions loudly as he trails Sam back
around to the other side of the RV.
Sam flips him off discreetly while his mother swats his arm once he's withing
her reach. “Dean,” she admonishes, pulling Sam under her right arm, their dad
at her left side, mountains behind them all and the camera on its tripod in the
RV's shadow. “Be nice to your brother.”
“Sorry, Ma,” Dean half-heartedly apologizes, pressing in close to Sam.
For all his posturing, Sam relaxes against the line of Dean's body and this-
this is the Sam Dean misses.
Family photo op duties complete, their dad heads off to hook up the electric
and water while their mom gathers up her camera and tripod to capture some more
memories for her digital scrapbook of “Winchester Family Roadtrip, 2011.” Sam's
still standing close so Dean ducks down, lets his nose graze against soft hair
and softer skin behind Sam's ear. “Sammy,” he breathes, hands moving to gently
hold Sam's hips. “You okay?” They haven't been like this since before Dean
graduated.
Sam leans into the touch for the briefest of moments before pulling away, gaze
purposefully avoiding Dean's. “Yeah,” he says, voice low, almost as deep as
Dean's. “I'm fine.” He walks away and doesn't look back.
Later, after dinner while their parents are off mingling with the only other
visitors to the campground – an old retired couple from the looks of it, with
their behemoth RV that could pass for some kind of rock band's tour bus – Dean
corners Sam. He climbs up into the overhead bunk with him, effectively blocks
any attempt Sam might make at escaping. Without warning, he leans in and covers
Sam's mouth with his own.
Sam reacts almost immediately, lips parting, Funyun-flavored tongue sliding
into Dean's mouth. He makes a small sound low in his throat as he pushes the
Xbox controller aside and turns fully towards Dean. He slots one of his lanky
thighs between Dean's and fits himself – complete and total contact, from hips
to chest – against Dean's body, kissing him all messy and desperate.
“Whoa, there, Sammy,” Dean chuckles, easing out of the kiss, framing Sam's face
with his hands. “What's the rush? I'm not going anywhere.”
Sam's eyes dim and he extracts himself from Dean's hold. “Liar.” He rolls onto
his side, back to Dean, and curls in on himself.
Dean suddenly, finally, understands. “Hey,” he whispers, pressing a long, open-
mouthed kiss to the back of Sam's neck as he molds himself to the curve of
Sam's spine. “Sammy. I'm not-”
“Don't,” Sam begs, throwing a sharp elbow into Dean's ribs. He sniffles and
draws in a shaky breath. “Just...don't.”
Dean feels the inch of distance between them like a physical wound. He can only
lay there for a couple more minutes watching Sam's shoulders tremble with his
silent sobs before he can't stand it anymore. He backs down the ladder, pulls
the curtains closed, then escapes into the quiet darkness outside. The air is
crisp and fresh, and a slow, deep breath does nothing to clear Dean's head or
ease the ache in his chest. He's ready to be done with this whole godforsaken
family roadtrip if this is how it's going to affect Sam.
A gentle breeze rolls through the valley carrying the sound of laughter and the
scent of campfire. Dean slowly rounds the RV and heads over to where his
parents and the retirees sit around a small bonfire. As he nears the group of
four, he realizes the other couple aren't nearly as old as he'd originally
guessed. The Singers – Bobby and his wife, Karen – are roadtripping cross-
country same as they are, except they've got no real destinations in mind. They
like the adventure of it, meeting new people wherever they go – and Dean can
definitely see the appeal in that. There's a magnetic map of the United States
by the door of the RV, every state except California, Oregon, Washington, and
Idaho accounted for.
“So, your dad, here, tells me you're a pretty good ball player,” Mr. Singer
says, interrupting Dean's mental tally of the states he's been to.
“Uh, yes, sir. I've got a scholarship to go play for Mizzou,” he offers with an
embarrassed smile.
“Off to be a Tiger, huh?” Mr. Singer laughs.
“Yeah. Dad won't let me forget it, either.”
“You're going over to the dark side,” his dad jokes, shaking his head. At Mr.
Singer's slightly confused look, he explains. “Mary and I were Jayhawks. KU and
Mizzou are arch rivals. The Border War goes back to, what? Eighteen-”
“Eighteen ninety-one,” Dean supplies.
Again, his dad shakes his head. “Traitor.”
“If Kansas had offered a better deal-”
His mom clasps her tiny fingers around one of his hands, kisses the back of it.
“I know, baby.”
Now, completely and utterly embarrassed, Dean pulls his hand free from his
mother's loose grasp. “I'm gonna go see if Sam wants to watch a movie or
something,” he says as he backs away. “It was nice meeting you all.” He
hightails it before his parents can do any more damage to his pride or dignity.
The camper's silent when Dean climbs inside. The curtains are still closed on
the overhead bunk and the light is shut off. If Sam's awake – and he probably
is because Dean's only been gone for all of fifteen minutes – then he probably
knows Dean's standing right there at the base of the ladder. “Sam?”
“What?” Sam's voice is muffled and quiet.
“Can I come up?”
“You're gonna do whatever you want to anyway.”
Dean climbs the ladder and pushes through the curtains. “It's not like I'm
leaving leaving. I'll be back all the time. And, beside, you're gonna be in
high school this year – you'll be so busy you probably won't even notice I'm
gone.” Dean's stomach rolls a little at that – the idea of Sam not missing him,
or worse yet, finding someone his own age that he wants to be with – and he
moves closer to his brother.
Sam shudders out a breath as he rolls over, whispers, “I miss you already.” Any
other time Dean would give him shit for acting like such a girl but, right now,
he can't. All he can do is pull Sam's body up against his and kiss him hard.
“I'm still right here. We've got time before I- before I have to go.”
Sam clings to him like he's holding on for his life, hands curled into fists
where he clutches the thin cotton of Dean's tee right over his heart. “I wish
you didn't have to.”
“It's just college. It's not forever.”
“That's what it feels like.”
Dean trails nipping kisses up the side of Sam's neck, along his jaw, and over
his chin. He settles over Sam, braced on his forearms, fingers brushing Sam's
hair away from his eyes. “It's not forever,” he repeats, dips down to press his
lips to Sam's. “I love you, you know that, right?”
Sam's eyes shine in the darkness, pale glow of moonlight through the small
sliding window above their heads highlighting the soft angles of his face. His
chin quivers and he offers Dean a small half-smile as he nods. “Yeah. I know.”
Dean kisses him again and awkwardly rolls away in the small space towards the
TV. He feels Sam's curious eyes on him as he rifles around for a DVD and loads
it into the Xbox, starts it with the volume low. He crawls back up Sam's body
and reaches out of the bunk to the shelf above the sleeper couch where he'd
shoved his backpack and pulls out a small bottle of hand lotion. “I promise
you, Sammy: I could be as far away as the moon and it wouldn't change how I
feel.”
Sam wraps his arms around Dean's back as he spreads his thighs, rolls his hips
up into Dean's and buries his face in his neck. “I love you, too,” he whispers,
lips catch-dragging against Dean's skin.
The opening credits to the movie are just starting when Dean works a hand into
Sam's loose basketball shorts and palms the hardness of Sam's dick through the
damp cotton of his briefs. Sam arches up into the touch and tightens his hold
around Dean's shoulders. “I'd never hurt you.”
Sam's breath catches in his throat on a gasp when Dean's fingers slip behind
his balls and press against his hole through his underwear. “I know,” he
whimpers. This is about as far as they've gone – handjobs, mostly, a couple of
blowjobs – but they haven't done this. Sam's legs fall further apart in the
confines of the bunk. “Please.”
There's a sound outside, then the door opens, their parents finally ending
their night with their neighbors of sorts. “You kids still up?” their dad asks.
Dean extracts his hand from Sam's shorts and rolls off of his brother, pokes
his head out between the curtains. “Yeah. Just watching a movie. Don't worry –
we'll be quiet.”
“Okay. Goodnight, boys,” their mother says.
“'Night, Mom,” Dean says, “Dad.”
Behind him, Sam shouts out, “G'night!” His hand is curled around Dean's hip,
fingertips pressing hard.
Dean watches them wander back to their room, waits for the door to close before
ducking back into the bunk and closing the curtains, double-checking that they
overlap completely. “You gotta be real quiet for me, Sammy, okay?”
Sam licks his lips and nods, shimmies out of his shorts and briefs and lets his
legs fall apart.
“Jesus Christ, Sammy.” Dean settles on his knees between Sam's calves and
hunches over his own thighs to get his mouth on Sam's dick. Sam's hands are
instantly buried in his hair, fingernails scraping his scalp, and Dean's got to
pull off, little slick pop, to hush his brother. “Shh.”
“I'm trying.” Sam bites his bottom lip and sucks in a harsh breath through his
nose, half-lidded eyes focused on Dean.
Dean nods and goes back to work, slicks up a finger with lotion and slides it
behind Sam's balls. Sam's hips jerk as his fingertip presses against the
puckered flesh, but Dean doesn't hesitate. What makes him pause is the sound of
his parents' bedroom door opening, then movement out in the main area, his mom
or dad getting something to drink or- No, they're brushing their teeth. He
holds Sam's gaze. “Be quiet,” he reminds, pushes his finger all the way in and
watches Sam's eyes widen in surprise.
Their parents no more than ten feet away, thin, navy blue curtain hiding them
from view, Sam rocks up against Dean's hand, taking his finger deeper. He lets
out a quiet groan that's nearly more breath than sound, and Dean can't exactly
blame him.
Dean draws two fingers through the mess of lotion gathered outside of Sam's
hole and pushes them both in slowly, scissors them, crooks them up at angle to
brush against that spot he knows is just right there from his own self-
exploration. He takes Sam's dick back into his mouth, matches the slide of his
lip-covered teeth with the thrust of his fingers. A hard press against Sam's
prostate has him coming suddenly down Dean's throat.
“Dean,” Sam whines, tugging none too gently at Dean's hair.
Fingers still working Sam's ass, Dean crawls up Sam's body and kisses him hard,
lets Sam taste himself on Dean's tongue, swallows all the little sounds Sam
makes. “You're gonna feel so good, Sammy,” he whispers against the shell of
Sam's ear. “Make it so good for you.”
“Shit, Dean. Are we...?” At Dean's nod, Sam's fingers fumble at his waistband,
unfasten the button of his jeans and drag down the zipper. Sam's breath hitches
again as he wraps Dean's cock in his fist. “God. Want it.”
The water in the bathroom shuts off and Dean can hear his parents shuffling
back towards their room, but he doesn't hear their door close. The possibility
of getting caught makes his dick throb in Sam's tight grip. This has to be the
craziest, stupidest thing he's ever done. But it's the hottest, too. He sinks a
third finger into the sucking heat of Sam's ass. “So greedy for it, aren't
you?”
Sam arches up into Dean and grunts an aborted moan at the stretch of Dean's
fingers working and twisting inside of him. “C'mon, Dean.”
“You ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Roll over for me.”
“But, Dean-”
“It'll hurt less.”
“I wanna see you.”
“Sam.”
“Please?”
Dean sighs, nods, claims Sam's mouth in a slow kiss. “I need you to hold onto
your knees for me.” He sits on his heels and takes Sam's calves into his hands,
pushes Sam's knees up toward his ears. Dean slicks his cock up with a squirt of
lotion and moves up between Sam's thighs, hands braced on either side of Sam's
head as he positions himself at Sam's entrance. “Gonna have to relax for me,
okay?” he says, taking himself in hand and slowly pressing in until the head of
his cock disappears into Sam's body.
Sam wraps his legs around Dean's lower back, tilts his hips a little higher to
ease the press of Dean sinking into him. He bites at his bottom lip, drops his
head back onto the thin pillow exposing the pale length of his neck. Dean's
mouth is on him immediately, careful not to bruise.
Something gets blown up on the movie, the explosion muffling Dean's groan as he
bottoms out. “You okay?” he asks breathlessly.
Panting silently beneath him, Sam nods, tightens the grip of his legs over
Dean's sweat-slick back where his t-shirt has ridden up. “Dean.”
“I know, Sammy. I know.” He slowly pulls out, presses back. He has to take it
painstakingly slow, can't move too fast and risk rocking the camper. Besides
that, he doesn't want to hurt Sam, either. “You're doing so good. So good.”
Sam's hands make their way to Dean's hair, fingers clutching at the short
strands to drag Dean's mouth up from his neck. They kiss as unhurriedly as Dean
fucks him.
The credits finish running and the movie goes back to the main menu, some low,
alt-rock melody playing over and over as tendrils of heat and energy curl
around the base of his spine and snake outwards towards his fingers and toes,
pool in his belly. “God, Sammy. Love you so much. Never gonna hurt you.”
Between them, Sam's hard again, head of his dick leaking and smearing precome
against Dean's belly. Dean's hand has barely curled around him before he's
shaking and moaning into Dean's open mouth, coming hard and sticky over Dean's
fingers. His orgasm sets the smooth muscles encasing Dean into an erratic
flutter.
The feel of Sam's tight hole clenching around his dick sends Dean over the edge
and he spills his release into his brother, teeth gritted together, face buried
in Sam's sweaty neck to stifle the moan he can't hold back. He has enough
presence of mind to gently pull out of Sam and roll to the side. As soon as
he's caught his breath, he reaches for his underwear, uses them to wipe Sam's
come from both their bodies, his own where it's leaking from Sam's hole.
Sam whimpers at the drag of the cotton over his sensitive skin. He reaches for
Dean, curls his fingers around the back of his neck to pull him down. Their
noses graze, their faces so close together, and he smiles up at Dean. “Thank
you,” he whispers then presses his lips to Dean's chastely.
Dean just holds Sam near, keeps their mouths crushed together. “I love you,”
Dean tells him again when they finally separate to breathe. He needs to make
sure Sam is hearing him, even if it makes him feel a little silly saying the
words aloud.
Sam kisses him quickly then collapses down to the mattress. “Love you, too.” He
watches as Dean struggles back into his jeans and shuts off the TV, accepts
Dean's help in getting his underwear and shorts back on. “Will you stay with me
tonight?” he asks as Dean starts down the ladder.
Dean leans over and kisses him again. He doesn't know how he's supposed to give
this up when he goes away to school. “Yeah. Just let me get ready for bed
quick.”
“Mmkay,” Sam says, eyes are already drifting closed.
Dean smiles at the sight and quickly gathers a clean pair of underwear and an
old pair of cut-off sweats before changing and washing up in the bathroom,
brushing his teeth. Sam's asleep when he climbs back up into the bunk and Dean
just settles against Sam's side, throwing an arm over his stomach and holding
him close. “We'll be okay,” he whispers into Sam's ear, a sweat-damp curl of
his brother's hair tickling his lips. “I promise.”
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