
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8705503.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, During_Canon
  Collections:
      Sinful_Desire
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-07-16 Completed: 2011-08-12 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 2261
****** Yellow Haze ******
by captainackles [archived by sinfuldesire_archivist]
Summary
     “You really gonna do this, man?” Dean asked. You looked at your
     shoes, and nodded. He turned his head to look out of the window and
     gritted, “Then get the fuck out of the car.”
Notes
     Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally
     archived at Sinful-Desire.org. To preserve the archive, we began
     importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in
     November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted
     announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or
     know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on
     Sinful_Desire_collection_profile.
     Author's notes: -
***** Yellow Haze *****

Author's notes: not beta'd, all mistakes are on me.
depending on the comments i'll decide if i want to continue this or not, so
comments are loved!
===============================================================================
Summer 2001
You remember the pale street lights dancing across Dean’s face as he drove you
to the bus station. His liquid green eyes were frozen solid, pupils almost non-
existent. You remember staring at his profile in the yellow haze projected by
passing cars and the stars.
 
You remember reaching out to brush your fingertips against his jaw. Skin to
skin contact always said more than words did anyways. The instant your skin
came in contact with your older brother’s, he flinched away.
 
You dropped your hand immediately and studied his face. This isn’t the brother
you grew up with. This isn’t the man you inevitably fell in love with at the
age of fourteen. This was the cold façade of a broken man.
 
Knuckles white and jaw clenched, Dean chose that moment to turn and look at
you. You remember how you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, unsure of how to
react as your brother studied your eyes. He nodded and turned back to pay
attention to the road.
 
You remember at that exact moment you thought back to the month you and Dean
spent alone in December one year while dad was somewhere in Wyoming hunting a
Wendigo.
 
Summer of 1997
 
Dean had convinced you take a week off of school. C’mon Sammy, don’t be a
little bitch. You laughed at him and told him to fuck off, even though you
ended up taking that extra week off of school anyways.
 
That was the first time you kissed your older brother.
Dean came home from work with hot chocolate and pot. With a coy grin he told
you to kindly fuck off. You realize that it was Christmas, and Dean spent his
entire paycheck on you.
 
An hour later you both were lying on Dean’s bed, smoking pot and drinking hot
chocolate. Your head was on your brother’s lap, his fingers slowly running
through your hair. You were both quiet for a while, Karma Police playing
quietly in the background.
 
You sat up, and faced your brother. He smirked at you, pupils dilated and his
bottom lip bitten red. His skin was warm, freckles running up and down his arms
and across the bridge of his nose. For whatever the reason, you slowly leaned
in to your brother’s face and nipped at his bottom lip.
 
You remember your brother laughing, grabbing your hair and pressing his mouth
to your own, the taste of hot chocolate and weed and Dean.
 
You ended up on the floor with Dean on top of you, tugging at your shirt to
feel your naked skin against his. He moans, and you could feel how hard he was
against you.
“Oh fuck, Sammy,” he whispered against the exposed flesh between your neck and
shoulder, as you slowly stroked his cock.
 
You came the moment he did, biting down on his lip and making him bleed. You
took your hand out of your brother’s boxers and brought it up to your mouth.
Dean shivered when you kissed him on the mouth, tasting himself on your tongue.
 
You spent the rest of the day laying there on that floor with Dean. You
remember feeling bare skin brushing against bare skin, the taste of weed, and
your older brother on your tongue. You think that’s the day you fell in love
with him.
 
Three weeks later dad came home from a hunt; a few new scars and some bruises,
but nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. Dean guided him to the couch and took
his boots off for him. Dad was asleep within five minutes.
 
You remember a month after dad came home, he sent Dean on his first solo hunt.
You also remember Dean coming home practically keeping his insides from
spilling out with some dental floss that wasn’t stitched properly.
 
Dad wasn’t home when Dean walked in through the door all but crying, blood
staining the carpet and dripping down his jeans. You were the one who sewed
your brother back up, and kissed him on the mouth when he finally stopped
shaking.
 
Summer 2001
 
You remember Dean pulling into the bus station, and turning off the engine of
the Impala. “You really gonna do this, man?”Dean asked. You looked at your
shoes, and nodded. He turned his head to look out of the window and gritted,
“Then get the fuck out of the car.” You didn’t dare to move an inch.“Dean,”
 
You were cut off when Dean’s knuckles came in contact with your jaw “I said get
the fuck out of the car.”
 
You remember staring at Dean, mouth agape and confused. But you were only
eighteen and temperamental as hell, so you grabbed your shit and slammed the
car door. You didn’t look back twice.
 
Dean stayed three hours after you left though, just in case.
 
Summer 2005
 
You’re looking at your brother sleeping in the motel bed across from you. The
profile of his face is illuminated by the neon motel 6 sign outside, and the
moon. He’s beautiful. Pale skin and freckles scattered across his shoulders. A
small scar parallel to his collar bone, and his hair askew.
 
Jess is dead. Her skin branded into the ceiling above the bed the two of you
shared, her bones marred into the ashes of the burnt down apartment.
 
But your brother is merely three feet away from you, breathing, and alive.
Despite your abhorrence towards your father and the life he has forced you to
live, Dean is worth it.
 
Living a life of constant terror isn’t something you can get used to. You
aren’t afraid of broken bones or horrific scars. You aren’t even afraid of
having your own insides torn out from your stomach and thrown on your feet. The
only thing that terrifies you is the thought of losing your brother.
 
You thought running away to Stanford would fix everything. Instead, if
anything, it only made it worse.
 
You can hear your brother’s shallow breathing in the bed next to you, and you
know he’s awake. You know everything about your brother, and you decide that
maybe it’s time you accept the fucked up life you inevitably will live.
 
You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but when you open them again you’re
face to face with tired green eyes and a crinkled forehead. Dean’s pushing at
your side with a sigh, “Scoot over, man, fuck you’re heavy.”
 
The last time your older brother laid next to you in a bed was a week before
you left to Stanford. You haven’t felt his bare skin against yours in over four
years, and it makes you shiver.
 
You want to say something, anything, to make Dean forgive you. You want to tell
him you fucked up, that leaving him to deal with Dad on his own for four years
wasn’t fair. You want to tell him you’re sorry for running away from him.
 
But words don’t affect your older brother.
 
You turn around and stare into deep green eyes. He looks older, but still the
same beautiful man you left four years ago. You grab his wrists and pin them
above his head as you press your mouth against his.
 
“Sammy,”he breathes into your mouth. It’s everything he wants to say and never
will in one word. I forgive you. It’s okay, it’s okay. We’re okay.
 
You slide your tongue into his mouth and let go of his wrists, occupying your
hands in his bed mussed hair. You’re both in boxers, legs tangled together and
tongues rolling in your mouth.
 
His skin is cold against yours, and you gasp away from his mouth for air. You
lick down his neck and bite at his skin, surprising yourself when the moan you
hear is your own. Dean is tracing his fingertips against your sides, lingering
touches marking you bone deep.
 
You lift your head up and Dean meets your gaze with wide green eyes.
 
“I’m sorry.”
 
Dean presses his mouth against yours and pulls away.
The neon yellow motel 6 sign outside is flickering against your brothers
skin.He kisses your shoulder and slides his fingers through your long hair.
 
Skin to skin contact always said more than words did anyways.
***** Seaweed Green *****

Author's notes: reviews are loved! thank you for reading :)
deciding whether or not i'm going to continue this or not, so depending on the
comments i'll decide.
===============================================================================
You haven’t smiled this hard in years.
 
You awake to Dean humming along to Ramble On by Zeppelin. His eyes are focused
on the road, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your knee,
thumbing the frayed hole in your jeans. You sit up, discovering you now most
likely have a permanent crook in your neck.
 
Your older brother turns to look at you. His eyes are wild and awake, sea weed
green with little flecks of gold, warm and home. He turns Zeppelin down a few
notches and takes his hand off your knee. You offer a sleepy smile, “Hey, where
are we?”
 
He laughs and rolls his window down. It’s warm and humid and smells like the
ocean. At this very moment you don’t think that you could ever love your
brother any more than you do right now. It’s almost six o’clock in the morning,
and the sun is just starting to rise. You study your brother’s face, morning
sunlight dancing across his face, lighting his eyes on fire.
 
Dean looks over at you with a sad smile. “I just figured you wouldn’t mind
seein’ the ocean. Besides, I promised I’d take you someday”.
 
With the pain of Jess’s death still fresh in your memory, you try to stop
thinking about it. But that’s easier said than done. Like losing a tooth, you
keep tonguing that foreign hole in your mouth, even if you aren’t conscious of
doing it.
 
A few pancakes and a couple of hours later, you find out you’re in North
Carolina, approximately four miles from the ocean. You’re fucking with the skin
around your fingernails aimlessly. Dean parks the Impala at the slimy motel the
two of you are staying at and grabs your hand. “Sammy, if you don’t fucking
stop fidgeting I will kick your ass. Leave your shit in the room and let’s go,
we’re walking”.
 
You didn’t let go of your brother’s hand the entire four mile walk to the
beach. The air was salty on your tongue. It was cloudy, and starting to rain.
You didn’t mind though. Dean whistled, and slapped your ass. “Dude, no one’s
here. I am so in favor of sex on the beach”. You laughed and shook your head.
“C’mon, get out of your jeans”.
 
In less than a minute, you both were stripped down to your boxers and running
towards the ocean. For half a second you pictured what it would be like if you
and Dean weren’t hunters. If you both settled down and had a house and went to
the beach whenever you wanted and held hands other than when someone important
died bloody.
 
Dean was ten feet ahead of you, blue waves sweeping him deeper into the ocean.
You waded in after him, and grabbed his face with both hands. “Dean, I’m so
sor-“. Before you could finish your sentence, Dean nipped at your bottom lip.
“How many times do I have to tell you to shut up? Stop fucking apologizing,
Sam”. Dean’s tongue was in your mouth and his hand was on your hip, marking
your bones. The waves broke you apart again, but you found your way back again.
 
You picked your brother up and he straddled you, twisting his hands in your
hair, sucking your tongue into his mouth. You pulled away from him and threw
him into the waves.
 
You couldn’t stop laughing. Dean was soaking wet now, freckles bright on his
skin, and he had revenge shining bright green in his eyes. He lunged at you.
 
Nothing can really compare to swimming in an ocean while it rains. Two
completely different sensations at once; cold rain dripping on your face and
warm ocean waters enveloping you deeper into the sea. You and your brother are
wrestling in the ocean, laughing and kissing and biting and you haven’t smiled
so hard in years. Despite the continuous fear of losing your brother at any
second, it’s moments like this that make it all worth it.
 
His smile makes your stomach jump.
 
“Dean, Dean, fine you win! Stop, I can’t breathe!” You’ve never won at a tickle
fight in your entire life. Dean stops though, and pulls you up from the shallow
water.
 
Things aren’t perfect. Your father is missing and your girlfriend is marred to
the ceiling of your old apartment. But you’re in love with your brother and
he’s kissing your face and shoulders and telling you that you’re such a girl,
Sammy, and you truly feel happy right now.
 
The sea’s only gifts are harsh blows, and occasionally the chance to feel
strong. Now, you don’t really know all that much about the sea, but that’s how
it is here. And you know that it’s important not necessarily to be strong, but
to feel strong.
 
You brush your nose against his, and grin, dimples and all. Standing in the
ocean next to your brother is as close to strong as you’ve felt in a long time.
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