[ pain so familiar ]
by kHo

Dean looked at Sam and when Sam looked away he rolled his eyes and jumped up on the hood of his car.  “What gives, Sammy?’

Sam shrugged, looking out across the barren field, the moon making it difficult to see his face, the high beams of the car only highlighting the tension in his body.  “Tired of it.’

Dean looked up at him and waited for him to look at him.  “Tired of what?  The road?’   When Sam didn´t answer he propped his feet on the front bumper of the car and settled in for what promised to be a long while of nothing at all.  “Sam?’

“I´m tired,’ Sam said, turning finally to face him, his face hard and impassive, “of wanting you and not being able to have you.’

Dean felt his stomach drop, his lungs draining of all air.  “I…’  He paused and took a deep breath, shaking his head and laughing.  “What do you mean?  I´m right here.  If you need to talk I´m right there.  I give you shit cause you´re my little bro, dude.  It doesn´t mean I don´t care--’

Sam walked forward, walking right into the space Dean had so stupidly left between his legs.  He could feel the belt loops of Sam´s jeans brushing against his knees.  “That´s not what I mean,’ Sam said, voice a low rumble that was way too familiar and way too hard to resist, “and you know it.’

Dean swallowed and wondered if his face gave him away.  “Sam?  Are you drunk?’

When Sam´s fingers landed on his thighs he sucked in a breath, and he knew damn well his face gave him away that time because Sam smiled.  A small smile, not like Sam´s usual smile at all, but this smile was familiar, and it did things to Dean that he tried not to think about anymore.  “Yeah.  I got drunk off all the Metallica music,’ he said, mouth twitching on a true smirk but never fully settling on one.  “With what alcohol would I have gotten drunk?’

Dean closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way Sam´s fingers were twitching on his thighs, digging in in some sort of fucked up caress.  “The fuck should I know,’ he asked, gritting his teeth.  “You don´t talk to me, you could have bought it at the last gas station we were at.’

“I didn´t,’ Sam said, his voice dipping even lower and it shot straight to Dean´s cock, some sort of Pavlovian association so fucked up and twisted it would have given Freud a headache.  Sam leaned forward and he could smell the coffee and the peppermints on his breath even as he tried to back away.  “Dean.’

“No,’ Dean said, shaking his head, finally prying his eyes open.  “Sammy, we stopped.’

Sam just looked at him, slid his hands further up his thighs, and Dean sucked in another breath as his thumb stopped just short of his already shamelessly hard cock, hating himself for being disappointed that it had.  “That was then.  Things are different now.’

Dean glared at him, tried to make his self-hatred look like it was directed at Sam, even if he´d never been very good at that.  “Timing doesn´t matter, Sam.  It was fucked up then, and it would be fucked up now, and it´ll be fucked up ten years from now, and…’ he trailed off as Sam just leaned closer, breathing the same air as Dean, and he could taste the mints now.  “There are no ways this isn´t fucked up, Sammy.’

“But don´t you see, Dean,’ Sam whispered against his lips, eyes never leaving his as his hand shifted and covered him, pushing down and refusing to back off at Dean´s jerk.  “That´s why this works.  Because we´re fucked up, Dean.’  He grinned then and shook his head.  “There are no ways we aren´t fucked up, to use your own words against you, so why shouldn´t this be?’

Dean let his eyes fall closed and tried not to grunt when Sam squeezed him through his jeans.  “Sam, stop.’

“You´re hard.’

Dean laughed, but it turned into a moan halfway through when Sam bent his head, his tongue flicking out and licking his neck.  “I don´t want to be.’

Sam´s laugh is muffled but Dean can still hear the bitterness in it.  “What we´ve wanted has never mattered.’

Dean ground his teeth together, trying so hard not to buck into Sam´s hand when he started to move it in excruciatingly slow circles.  “It´s not normal, Sam.’

Sam raised up to look at him and the warmth that was usually in his eyes was completely gone and Dean had the sudden urge to forget everything else and just hug him.  Hug him until it came back.  “What the fuck is normal,’ Sam asked, anger tingeing his voice.  “Because I know for damn sure our definition doesn´t fit other people´s, and I don´t think theirs applies to us.’

Dean takes a deep breath, just studying Sam for a moment before looking back into his eyes.  “Isn´t that why you left,’ he asked, ignoring that part of his brain that told him to shut up as Sam´s hand stilled on  him.  “To be normal?’

Sam´s hand came up to his face, fingers lacing back through his hair as his eyes roamed his face.  “Didn´t work,’ he said, eyes flickering for a moment before settling back to their now normal dull nothingness.  “I want this back, Dean.’

And that´s when Dean got it, when Sam´s eyes met his again.  Because Sam had two normals, and one got killed at the same time his girlfriend died in a fire on his ceiling.  So it made sense that he wanted this back, that he wanted this normal back.  This fucked up, twisted, skewed version of normal he´d tried for years to get away from.  “Sam--’

“Shut up, Dean,’ Sam growled, and then he was jerking Dean´s head forward, his lips brushing his roughly, no kind of tenderness in this kiss, not like their used to be.  “I need this… please… please, Dean, I need this--’

And he just couldn´t stand hearing him like that so he shut him up with his tongue, shut him up with his hands on his hips, pulling him forward.  Shut him up by grinding his erection against Sam´s, and it was so familiar, so what he´d been trying to not want for the past three years, that it almost hurt to have it again.  Almost, but then Sam groaned into his mouth, and the only thing left was here and now and want and hard.

They didn´t even bother to take off their jeans, didn´t even bother to unzip them, just ground themselves against each other.  Tongues and teeth mashing together.  There was still pain but it felt good, it felt right, but that´s how it had always been.  Pain so normal, so familiar, that he missed it when it was gone.   He´d missed Sam more than he´d ever fully admitted to himself.

He could come just from this, from the slide of Sam´s tongue against his, from the way Sam moaned into his mouth, his fingers tightening on hip and in his hair.  Didn´t even need to be touched, didn´t even need to do anything, just this.  But when Sam bucked against him, he broke off the kiss and groaned long and loud, because this was too much, it had been too long.  

And all it took was Sam, biting his neck and then crying out oh fuck, Dean, I´m gonna for him to come, stars blurring before his eyes, the spasm working all the way up from his toes to his hair, electrifying anything and everything in its path.   He was just coming down when Sam came and it happened all over again, because nothing had ever been sexier than Sam when he came, all lose limbs and curse words and panting.

Sam kissed him once more and then stepped back, his hand running through his hair as he licked his lips and tried to catch his breath.  “Give me the keys.’

Dean blinked up at him, still completely out of it.  “Huh?’

“Keys,’ Sam said, smiling.  “So I can get the suitcases.  I doubt you want to drive with…’ He gestured to Dean´s pants and his smile faltered.  “Drying on your jeans.’

“Oh,’ Dean said, reaching in his pocket and digging out his keys, handing them to Sam.  He watched Sam walk to the back of the car, opening the trunk and start rummaging through it.  “Sam?’

“I don´t wanna talk about it, Dean,’ Sam said, and he sounded so tired, so drained, and Dean didn´t know if it was because he just came or if it was something he´d need to worry about.

“Sammy--’

“Shut up, Dean,’ Sam said, slamming the trunk and tossing a pair of sweats at Dean´s face.  “Get changed and come on.  We have two hours until we reach this place, and I´m tired.’

By the time Dean had his jeans unzipped Sam was already in the passenger seat, his forehead resting against the glass.  Turning around he dropped his jeans and boxers to the ground, yanking the sweats up quickly.  He´d never hated himself more than he did right now.

That didn´t stop him from getting hard again when Sam´s eyes swept over him when he sat in the driver´s seat, so he reached over and turned up the radio and tried to let Metallica wash away the taste of peppermints.