
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1967769.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester_&_Sam_Winchester, Dean/
      Sam
  Character:
      Dean_Winchester, Sam_Winchester, John_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Wincest_-_Freeform, Pre-Series, handjobs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Sibling
      Incest, Angst
  Series:
      Part 2 of The_Summer_of_'97
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-16 Words: 2929
****** Greenfield Park ******
by RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary
     Sam can't stop thinking about that night in the woods..
Notes
     Sorry this took so long... I haven't written much at all lately
     because of my (still unknown) condition with my wrists/hands (unable
     to type for long periods of time), so this was literally painful to
     do but I really wanted to get at least a second part of this series
     up as I had initially intended.
     And yeah, the next part, whenever that may be, will definitely be
     written from Dean's POV.
     Enjoy :)
They travelled back to the house the next morning mostly in silence, other than
Dean telling Sam there was some packed food in the cooler in the back seat of
the Impala. They ate breakfast on the road, what they were used to. Sam kept
glancing over at Dean next to him, golden knuckles wrapped thick around the
steering wheel, pursed lips humming to the radio—the rock station, what else.
It was like he forgot all about the events of last night. Sam worried
momentarily that all the beer Dean had consumed last night actually really
hadmade him forget they friggin kissed, but Dean hadn't been thatout of it. He
was a little tipsy, at the most. He hadn't even been slurring. He was pretty
sure Dean remembered and just shrugged it off because it either didn't mean
anything to him, or he had found it gross.
Sam hadn't found it gross. Actually, he kind of enjoyed it. Maybe a little too
much. But he didn't know why. Maybe that made him a freak. But he was a freak
anyway, so this didn't really make much of a difference in the grand scheme of
things.
 
When they pulled up the gravel driveway, Dean cursed under his breath. Dad's
large black pickup was sitting there, back in Surrow Heights two days too
early.
Just as they got out, John was already pushing out of the screen door,
demanding to know where they'd been.
Turns out it was just another excuse for John to get into a fight with Dean.
How he wasn't being responsible, how his job wasn't to take his little brother
out in the middle of nowhere and stay overnight in some remote part of town
(neither Sam nor Dean mentioned it was a forest), his job was to keep him safe.
No matter how many times Sam insisted they were together the whole time, Dean
was watching his back, John wouldn't listen.
The issue wasn't resolved for the next two days. Sam was lying in bed,
listening to the two of them go at it yet again. Dean was insisting he was only
looking out for Sam's best interest—all the kid does is stay cooped up in this
place—but John said the only reason for that was because Sam "wasn't ready for
hunts and they both knew that," and it went on and on. John taking shots at
Dean and Dean taking it all with few rebuttals. And tonight John had had a
little too much to drink.
A few clatters and bangs could be heard from the hallway.
"Dad..." It was Dean's voice. Another loud thump, right outside his door. Sam's
heart raced in his chest. Was Dad hurting him?
"Dad, okay..." The voice was soft and muffled but Sam clearly heard the
delicate shake in his older brother's voice.
Then the door to the room opened, and light pooled in. Sam's wide eyes took in
Dean's silhouette stumbling past the doorframe. A second later the door was
closed and locked, and Dean was leaning up against it, shoulders rising and
falling quickly.
"Dean...?" Sam couldn't move, all he managed to do was prop himself up on his
elbow and watch as his brother scratched at a spot on his arm and shuffled
closer.
"You okay?" Sam asked him quietly.
Dean didn't speak, just nodded a little and walked up to the edge of Sam's bed.
Slowly, Sam peeled back the comforter on his bed in silent invitation, and
nudged over a little to make room. They shared beds in the motel rooms they'd
often rent out, but that was just to sleep and neither of them willingly chose
it. Now was different. Sam was offering his presence, his comfort, his warmth.
Dean crawled in willingly, settling down into the pillow immediately and
shutting his eyes. Sam felt him trembling a little, felt cold hands wrap around
Sam's body and gently pull him in like something to hold on to. Sam's fingers
came up to twine in his older brother's hair, lightly scratching. He felt
Dean's stuttered breaths against his chest, humid and sporadic. He knew what it
felt like now, to be the one giving comfort and not the one receiving it. It
felt... foreign. Because Dean was the type to rarely show any kind of weakness,
even (or especially) in front of Sam. He had to be strong. For both of them. So
this was a first. But being like this, really close like this, Sam's mind
cleared and focused only on making his brother feel better. Their bodies twined
together like one, soft breathing slowing into sleep.
 
xxx
 
John was following up on some leads he acquired over the past few days, so he
was in and out of the house, coming home at night and leaving Dean in charge.
As a result of their arguments for the past several days, Sam and Dean weren't
allowed to leave the house. John made it perfectly clear when he grunted out an
abrupt "stay here" before departing every morning.
After dinner one night, Sam wandered into the shared bedroom and stood at the
foot of the bed.
"Dean?"
"Yeah?" Dean was making some scribbles on a newspaper article.
Sam swallowed. He didn't know how to really word what he had been feeling ever
since the night in the woods, but he knew they should probably talk about it.
Because what happened shouldn't have happened at all, and Dean hadn't said
anything about it. Sam still felt uneasy about the whole occurrence, mainly
because he had enjoyed it and hadn't been able to stop thinking about it ever
since it happened.
"Can we... talk?" Sam asked. Now was a good time. Enough time had been put
between now and night in the forest. He figured Dean had had time to sleep on
it and turn it over in his mind. If he even thought about it at all,that is.
"Sure. What about?" Dean didn't look up from the paper.
Sam's heart raced. "I think you know..."
Dean finally looked up then, stilling the pen in his hand. He shrugged. "Not
really."
Damn it, why did he have to be so stubborn? "That night... in the forest..."
Dean went back to the paper, tapping the pen repetitively. "What about it?" He
made another few circles on the article.
Sam sat down and tried to relax a little. This was Deanhe was talking to. "I
mean, you didn't find it... weird?"
Dean's big green eyes searched Sam's for a long moment, then he shrugged.
"Nah."
Sam bit back a sigh of relief, eyes darting down.
"Why, did you?" Dean asked him.
"No," Sam said softly, shaking his head.
Dean's wide eyes crinkled up as he flashed Sam an assured smirk. "Good, then
nothing to talk about."
"Actually I think that gives us moreof a reason to talk about it," Sam replied
matter-of-factly.
Dean's shoulders stiffened, jaw clenched. His tone changed, voice going all
stern for a second. "No, Sam. It doesn't."
Sam swallowed the lump in his throat and then got off the bed, leaving the
room. So if Dean didn't want to talk about it then fine. So be it. But he knew,
somewhere deep down underneath all that older-brother-bravado that Dean had to
be feeling the same way he was. He had to.
 
xxx
 
John came back around half past eleven and Sam had fallen asleep in front of
the TV watching reruns of Happy Days. He had a dream that he told Dean he
wanted to kiss him again but got prematurely woken up by the screeching noise
the faucet in their shower made. He shrugged the dream off and went to the
bedroom, finding Dean still awake, shrouded in a pool of flashing blue,
watching something out of the tiny television set they had picked up recently
at a yard sale. His feet were kicked up, his back leaning against the headboard
of the bed.
Sam settled down in the bed adjacent to Dean's, tried to close his eyes but
soon decided he wasn't tired. After a few minutes, he heard the water shut off
in the bathroom and the recognizable sound of John shuffling to bed and
shutting the door to his bedroom.
Sam perked up. "Dean?"
"What?" Dean was still watching the screen.
Sam sat on the edge of the bed, facing Dean. "Do you want to get outta here?"
Dean raised a questioning brow. "Huh?"
"Wanna go out to Greenfield?" Sam whispered hopefully.
"Sam, you crazy? You know Dad doesn't want our asses out of the house,
especially not in the middle of the friggin night."
"Come on, who cares? Dad doesn't have to know."
"And if he finds out?" Dean raised his brows.
"I'll tell him the truth, say it was my idea."
Dean contemplated. "Sam..."
"Dean," Sam interrupted. "Forget Dad for one second. What do youwant to do?"
Dean shook his head silently. He examined Sam's eyes, squinting to try and read
them, then sighed and shut the TV off with the remote, swinging his legs over
the side of the bed. "Let's go."
 
xxx
 
Greenfield Park was only a few minutes away by car, and was a place Sam loved
to go often to clear his head or to just take a long bike ride through. Dean
parked the impala in the lot and they walked through the forest silently.
When they reached the wide open clearing, they both sat down in the grass. Sam
looked up at the vast cloak of night, spreading his palms out in the grass
behind him. The air was a bit chilly, but Sam loved it. He sighed, starting to
count the stars but then giving up. Tonight, the sky was perfectly clear.
"You like watching them, don't you?" Dean asked softly from beside him. "This
is a good spot."
"Yeah..." Sam replied, shoulders relaxed, neck tilted back.
The hum of the night bugs kept up a gentle melody, faint and soothing.
Sam leaned forward, shoulders hunching. "Kind of makes you feel small. Y'know?"
Dean's mouth twitched in agreement. Then, he leaned forward, too. "You should
become an astronomer or something. I can totally see you doing something nerdy
like that."
Sam smiled wide, their eyes meeting for a fleeting second. Then, his smile
faded. He plucked at some grass in front of him.
"Yeah, except I can't."
"Sam..."
"Dean, you know as well as I do that we're stuck in this. Hunting things...
Trying to find Mom's killer..."
"Yeah," Dean agreed.
After a long pause, Sam spoke up again. "I mean, isn't there anything youwant
to do besides this?"
The corner of Dean's mouth twitched up indifferently. "Not really. I feel... a
responsibility now. The things we know..."
Sam shook his head a little, ripping out a few more blades of grass. He felt
his eyes begin to water.
"But Sam..." Dean started. "I'm not gonna stop you from doing what you want,
you know..."
Sam smirked a little, then scoffed, "Dad will."
Dean slapped an arm around Sam's back, pulling him in. He was warm and sturdy,
and Sam slumped against him.
"Well, whatever happens," Dean said. "I got your back."
Sam smiled tightly, pushing against him playfully. "Thanks, Dean..."
Dean rubbed lightly over his shoulder with his thumb. They were so close Sam
could feel Dean's breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest pressing
against his shoulder. Without thinking, Sam leaned up and planted a small but
definitive kiss right on Dean's warm cheek. He immediately retreated, turning
back into his previous position. Dean stilled, the hand on Sam's shoulder now
frozen. Sam bit his lower lip absently.
"Why'd you do that?" He heard Dean ask, so faint it was barely a whisper.
"I don't know," he replied simply, fidgeting with the grass again.
After a too long and too silent moment, Sam felt Dean's fingers turning his
chin to look at him. Sam's heart stuttered in his chest, his breathing stopped.
Dean's face was only inches from his own. Sam could clearly see Dean's lips,
almost as still as his own, form the words do you want to kiss again?Like he
knew. Knew all along.
Sam couldn't even fathom speech. He could barely breathe. Instead of speaking,
he nodded, looking through lidded eyes at Dean's parted lips. He remembered the
way they tasted, how soft they were, how smoothly and effortlessly Dean had
slid his tongue around in his mouth.
Something was clogging Sam's throat as Dean pulled him in, finally closing what
little space that was left between them with a hesitant press of warm lips on
lips.
There was no one around, no one daring them to do this, just the two of them
and an undeniable desire for closeness and for touch.
Sam pushed himself against Dean, into the kiss, moaning a little when he felt
Dean's tongue slide slippery against his own. He couldn't believe what was
happening, couldn't believe Dean was actually willing to kiss him like this
again. He briefly wondered, with a heavy heart, if Dean was only kissing him
for Sam's benefit, because it was what Sam wanted, or if he wanted it for
himself. He put that thought out of his head as soon as he considered asking
because there was no way he was breaking this up to talk. Not now.
His hand, the one that was resting on Dean's knee, kneaded the jean and
caressed the skin underneath with his thumb. He felt Dean cup his neck with
outstretched fingers, sliding down his front and resting over his collarbone.
Sam's hand wandered up Dean's inner thigh, hitting the crevice of his groin.
Dean absently directed Sam's hand away, twining their fingers together instead.
Dean expertly sucked Sam's lip in his own, and Sam whined desperate in his
throat. Impossibly, it felt even better than the first time.
Sam's hand found its way in between Dean's parted legs again and this time he
felt the unmistakable hardness underneath the jean. Dean halted his hand
immediately and pulled back, eyes darkly narrowing on Sam's.
"We can't..." He said.
"But I thought... I thought you didn't think it was weird..." Sam's expression
drooped, his voice shaking a little.
"I don't..." Dean said, and then gently nudged his nose against Sam's until Sam
looked up enough so their lips slotted together again.
Sam melted into him again, his hand resuming its position and inching up the
inside of Dean's leg once more. It was like an automatic reaction. And there
could be no denying that Dean was at least as turned on as he was. When he
reached the hard bulge at Dean's groin, he thumbed over it and this time Dean
only hovered his hand over Sam's but made no move to stop him. Sam dragged his
finger along the thick line of Dean's dick through the material, felt it pulse
a little underneath. Dean broke the kiss and let out a high-pitched broken
gasp, stifling it in Sam's hair just above his ear. Sam grabbed hold of his
thickness, pressed his palm into it and pushed up, then tugged back down. Denim
clung to Dean's cock, warmth seeping through onto Sam's hand. Dean was making
noises Sam had never heard him make before, hot and humid right in his ear, and
it only fueled Sam's determined hand to stroke harder, faster. Dean's head
dropped to Sam's neck, quivering mouth breathing unsteadily into Sam's skin.
"Sam, gonna..." Sam thought he heard Dean say, but it sounded the same as his
gasps and broken moans.
Sam popped the button on Dean's jeans and pulled back his boxers just in time
to wrap his fingers around the throbbing head of Dean's dick and pump it once
before Dean lost it. He spilled over Sam's tight fist, gasping and digging
shaky fingers into Sam's leg hard enough to leave bruises. White, creamy spurts
of come pulsed out over and over, drenching Sam's hand with hot, sticky
release. The contrast of Dean's hot breath and warm come against the crisp
night air made Sam shiver all the way from his spine to his legs.
When Dean's breathing calmed down and he resurfaced enough to move, they
retreated slowly from each other, cool breeze finding its way between them.
They searched each other's eyes and Sam knew what Dean was going to say, knew
he was probably going to say that could never happen again, should have never
happened in the first place, it was wrong, so wrong, but he didn't want to hear
any of it.
"We should go..." Dean swallowed, voice still unsteady. "Before Dad realizes
we're gone."
He tucked himself back in his pants as Sam wiped his hand off in the grass and
then Dean helped Sam to his feet.
They drove back in complete silence. Sam started to say something at one point,
but Dean cut him off with a sharp "don't."
Sam wanted to kick something. Okay, so maybe it was too soon to talk. But
sooner or later they had to address what the hell was going on here. For one,
Sam wanted to know what Dean was thinking. He couldn't keep shutting him out.
Sam hoped things would be different in the morning as he watched Dean crawl
into bed and turn on his side, uttering nothing more than a simple good night.
Well, even Sam had to admit, that was enough for now.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
