Word Count: 4,673
Summary: Following the events of Get What You Need, Sam and Dean struggle to avoid dealing with their recently-revealed feelings for each other. It's not easy to do when the car, the local scenery, and the entire state of Montana seems to be conspiring against them.
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A/N: Title is from "Wild Horses," by the Rolling Stones.
The first day after The-Sex-That-Shouldn't-Have-Happened, Dean pretends it didn't happen.
It's easy. They've got work to do, a mess to clean up, and more showers and clean-up afterwards. There's a routine to follow.
Sam doesn't look at him, doesn't touch him, and for that Dean's grateful. Maybe Sam won't be a little bitch about this after all. Maybe they can both forget it ever happened.
Of course, once they're back in the car and on the road again, it festers.
Dean feels Sam's closeness like a wall of anxiety. Sam shivers and sulks next to him, demanding his attention, waiting for him to say or do something to relieve the strain. In the enclosed space, Dean can feel Sam's heat, can smell the soap and shampoo he used in the shower last night. He can also smell Sam's sweat and the slightly bitter scent of his musk, that sharp, salty odor that makes Dean's mouth water. It reminds him of the taste of Sam's skin, makes him remember burying his nose in Sam's groin.
Dean’s so hard it hurts.
He shifts as subtly as possible on the bench, trying to ease the pressure in his jeans, but of course Sam notices. Sam seems to be watching him like a hawk out of the corner of his eye, waiting for him to crack or explode. Waiting for Dean to say something.
"I've gotta take a piss," Dean announces, pulling the car onto the shoulder of the road and getting out as soon as it rolls to a stop.
He walks up the road a few feet before unzipping his pants and pulling out his engorged dick. He keeps his back to Sam and focuses on peeing, on relieving his bladder rather than getting himself off to the thought of Sam watching.
Dean hears the car door slam as Sam gets out to stretch. They're on a two-lane backroad in western Montana, haven't passed another car in almost an hour, so Dean's pretty sure they're alone. In fact, it's nice being here in these quiet mountains where the view is pretty damned spectacular, not to mention the sight of Dean's brother stretching his gorilla arms up over his head, exposing the little strip of skin above the waistband of his jeans.
Not that he planned it that way, but now that they're here, Dean can almost feel the tension seeping out of his body. As he takes in a deep lungful of cool, crisp mountain air, he can almost sense the magic of the open road and the landscape doing their thing on his psyche, making him relax in spite of himself.
"It's nice here." Sam's voice slices into Dean's zen moment with exacting precision, making him jump.
He quickly shakes and tucks his dick away, grateful that it's managed to soften a little so that the bulge isn't too obvious as he turns toward the car and his giant brother.
"Yeah, it's fuckin' Grizzly Adams country," Dean agrees. "Too bad we didn't bring the camper."
"Ha." Sam stretches his arms over his head again and Dean could swear he's doing it on purpose, the bitch. That little strip of skin appears again and Dean scowls. "You hate camping."
I'd do it with you, his traitorous brain provides. Get you down and dirty in a tent, baby, all sweaty and grimy with pine needles in your hair...
"Shut up," Dean snaps, to himself as much as to Sam. What the fuck is wrong with him? "Get back in the car."
It's stifling in the car. The sun is directly overhead, beating down through the roof of the car like a laser. They haven't stopped to eat yet because Dean can't stand the thought of sitting across a table from his brother, so his belly is rumbling. He thinks longingly about the plastic bag full of snacks they bought at the convenience store over three hours ago, but he doesn’t want to stop to retrieve it from the trunk because that would mean having to look at Sam. Sam keeps sneaking little smirking looks at him like he just knows how uncomfortable Dean is and he's enjoying it.
They're climbing further into the mountains now and the car is struggling in the heat. The engine groans as if it's conspiring against him. It’s as if everything is a big stupid set-up designed to force Dean to face the elephant in the car with them, no matter how hard Dean tries to ignore it.
Then the car gives a sharp banging noise followed by loud slapping and that's it. That's just fucking it.
As Dean eases her onto the shoulder, Baby gives another shuddering groan, then dies. Steam rises in dangerous quantities from under the hood, billowing in front of the windshield so that all Dean can see is thick, white fog.
"Shit," he mutters as he puts her in park and shuts off the engine. "Fan belt."
"Is it serious?" Sam asks, like that isn't fucking obvious.
Dean's already out of the car, taking off his over-shirt to protect his arm against the hot steam as he raises the hood.
"Yeah, it's serious." Dean finds the broken radiator belt almost immediately, but of course he burns his fingers pulling the pieces out. He lets them fall to the ground, then sucks his fingers into his mouth. "We can't drive her this way."
He turns to find Sam standing not two feet away, concerned frown giving way to flushed cheeks as he lowers his eyes. Dean suddenly feels self-conscious in his T-shirt with his fingers in his mouth. He might as well be naked, the way Sam just looked at him.
Dean shakes himself and takes his fingers out of his mouth, wiping them on the front of his shirt as he scowls at Sam, not that his brother notices. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it up, squinting at the screen. "You getting a signal? I'm not getting a signal."
Sam swallows and fishes in the front pocket of his jeans. Dean looks away, deliberately not noticing the way Sam's waistband slides down to reveal the top of his boxer-briefs.
"Nothing," Sam confirms after holding his arm out with the phone in front of him and turning in a complete circle as Dean tries not to notice his ass.
"Okay." Dean clears his throat, suddenly dying of thirst. "One of us is going to have to walk into town, maybe get picked up on the way, see if we can get a signal so we can get a damn tow-truck out here..."
"Dean, we're like fifty miles from anywhere," Sam reminds him.
"Well, I ain't gonna just sit here waiting on the off-chance somebody drives by." Dean shakes his head. "We haven't seen another car in well over an hour, and you know it."
Sam takes a deep breath, lets it out slow. "Fine," he sighs. "I'll go."
"The hell you will!" Dean glares. "You don't even know the first thing about cars. How're you gonna explain what my Baby needs? No, you stay here. I'll go."
Truth is, the idea of Sam out on the road somewhere, alone and miles from anywhere, is more than Dean can take. He could get bit by a rattler or attacked by a bear or picked up by a serial killer. Not to mention all the supernatural evil out there just waiting for a chance to take a piece out of a Winchester. No way Dean could let Sam out of his sight out here in this deceptively beautiful natural paradise. He'd rather chop off his own foot.
Sam's face undergoes a variety of expressions, finally settling on lost puppy-dog. It practically breaks Dean because he can see Sam's just as worried about being left behind as Dean is about letting him go.
"Can't we both go?" Sam pleads. "I mean, the car'll be fine here on her own, right? She can't go anywhere, and as long as we lock her up nobody will be able to look in her trunk..."
"No, no way," Dean says, then he realizes Sam's right. The chances of anyone coming this way are so slim at this point that it seems almost like a deliberate set-up, like the situation created itself to ensure that Sam and Dean would be forced to take a walk on an empty mountain road together. In fact, if Dean didn't know any better, he'd think Baby planned this.
Dean casts a suspicious sidelong glance at the car, which continues to emit clouds of steam in innocent abandon.
"Ah, the hell with it," he mutters as he ties his shirt around his waist and reaches up to slam the hood closed. "Let's go."
Dean ignores Sam's relief as he pulls the plastic bag of water bottles and power bars out of the trunk. He starts to walk up the road on instinct. He know they should probably head back the way they came; even though the closest town was fifty-some miles back down the road, at least it's a known quantity. Going further into the mountains seems foolhardy. Dean can tell Sam thinks so by the way he frowns and bites his lip when Dean turns back to be sure he's following. But Dean's an adventurer. His instincts told him to go this way when they left the motel this morning, and now Baby has clearly decided not to carry them any further. They have to forge ahead on their own, into the heart of this glorious place where Nature dwarfs even the supernatural that haunts their daily lives. Dean can't explain why he trusts that. He just does.
"Didn't you check the belts this morning?" Sam asks when he falls into step beside his brother.
"I did," Dean agrees with a shrug. "Everything was in good shape."
"So how...?" Sam's voice trails off as Dean's stomach rumbles.
Fuck it. A man’s gotta eat, right? Dean might as well resign himself to the inevitable. Whatever trajectory they’re on, there’s no sense going forward without sustenance.
Dean hands Sam a power bar and they sit down on a log next to the road to eat, drink, and admire the view. Dean tries not to look at Sam's perfect profile, and he's pretty sure Sam's doing the same thing, although they both turn their gazes out at the mountains when they almost catch each other staring.
"Dean, about last night..." Sam says after several minutes have passed in companionable silence.
"Sammy..." Dean warns.
"No, just let me say this," Sam goes on. "I need to explain."
"You don't have to explain anything, Sam," Dean admonishes. "It wasn't your fault. What happened was because of that damn succubus, and you know it."
"What happened to you was because of the succubus," Sam corrects with a shake of his head. "What I did doesn't have an excuse."
"You didn't do anything!" Dean insists. "I got infected and you fixed me. End of story."
Sam huffs out an irritated breath and gets abruptly to his feet. He paces in front of Dean, effectively blocking his view in the most distracting way possible.
"No," Sam gestures angrily. "That's not how it happened, Dean, and you know it."
"Okay, so what are you telling me, Sam?" Dean glares up at his gigantic little brother. "Huh? Are you freaked out because you enjoyed a blow-job? Is that it? Because newsflash, Sammy. Most people do! It's not a fuckin' crime, for God's sake!"
"No, that's not it," Sam shakes his head, stupidly long hair flying everywhere. He stops pacing and leans one hand on his hip, striking a pose that makes him look like a American Eagle commercial. Wth his wild hair, his powerful body and chiseled cheekbones, Sam looks like some kind of exotic bird. He stares off into the distance with a distressed expression in his lovely multi-colored eyes, making Dean want to gather him up in his arms like he did when Sam was little, when Dean could still protect him from everything evil.
"What?" Dean demands, blinking up at all that male beauty, on display just for Dean. "What the hell is it then?"
Sam drops his gaze, startles a little, as if he was day-dreaming and forgot that Dean was there. As if he's shocked to find the subject of his day-dream right there in front of him, real and warm and waiting.
"Nothing," he mutters, visibly deflating as he turns away, scrubbing a hand over one stubbled cheek. He hunches his shoulders, folding in on himself as if he's trying to make himself smaller. As if he's trying to be invisible.
"Oh for fuck's sake, Sam." Dean's on his feet faster than a rocket, grabbing Sam's shoulders and shaking him soundly. No way is he letting Sam think what happened between them makes Sam more of a freak than he already feels. "Look at me, little brother. Look at me!"
Sam lets himself be shaken, lets Dean grab hold of him and slide one hand up his neck so he can force Sam to look at him, to see that Dean means business. But Dean has to grab Sam's face in both hands before he looks up, misery making his eyes look like deep pools of ocean water, reflecting the sky and the forest around them, shining with a film of tears.
"You are not a freak for having sex with your brother, you hear me?" Dean insists now that he's got Sam's attention. "Hell, I'm so good in bed I'm pretty sure I could make a fuckin' statue come if I had to, so you're totally forgiven for getting off on me getting you off." He smirks, and Sam blushes and tries to duck away, but Dean holds his face, brushes a stray tear away with his thumb as it slips down Sam's cheek. "I wanted to make it good for you, Sam. That's all it was."
Sam stares, and they're standing so close Dean can feel Sam trembling, can feel his throat muscles move as he swallows.
“That's all it was?" Sam whispers, and Dean can feel him leaning closer as his eyes drop to Dean's mouth. "Are you sure?"
"Sam..." Dean takes a deep breath and starts to pull away, letting his hands slide down Sam's neck to his chest, meaning to push him away, imagining he's still capable of that, at least.
Damn it all anyway. How did this get so fucked up? Dean wanted to spare Sam, to keep his dirty-wrong-bad feelings from his perfect, pure little brother for the rest of his life. He tried so hard, and most of the time he's been so good at it he thinks Sam never knew. He thinks he pulled it off, most of the time.
Except, now Sam knows. That fucking succubus made sure of that, and now all of Dean's sick, perverted feelings have been laid bare.
And that should be the worst part, but it isn't. It isn't the worst thing because that honor goes to Sam thinking he's a freak for getting turned on, for letting Dean seduce him. Dean's sick lust for his little brother has infected Sam, and that is so unfair Dean wants to kill something.
"If I tell you I wanted it too," Sam's saying, his soft voice cutting through the fog of Dean's self-loathing thoughts, "will you believe me? Will you think I'm just making it up? Will you, Dean? Will you tell me I don't know what I'm talking about because normal brothers don't have these feelings for each other? Will you try to tell me you think we shouldn't because it's wrong?"
"Sam..." How did Sam know what he was going to say? When did Sam learn to be such a mind-reader anyway?
"Look at me, Dean," Sam orders, grabbing Dean's wrists, and Dean wonders when he started to back away, when he lowered his eyes and couldn't look at Sam.
Now he looks. Now his eyes flick up to Sam's simply because Sam told him too. He tingles with the need to do whatever Sam tells him to do.
"We're not like other brothers," Sam says, his voice rasping and desperate. "You hear me? There's nothing normal about us. We hunt monsters! We kill things and we deal with the paranormal and the supernormal every day. We are NOT normal! That's the way it is for us. And this – this thing between us is just the way it is for us. It's normal for us."
"Sam," Dean tries again, desperate to make the kid understand. "You didn't want this, before. You know you didn't. If that succubus hadn't infected me..."
"I might have gone on thinking there was something wrong with me," Sam finishes. "Repressing my feelings because they made me feel dirty. They made me feel like I was a total freak, not just partly one. But when you – When we – When last night happened, I thought maybe it wasn't just me after all. Maybe I wasn't the only one who wanted that. Maybe I wasn't alone after all."
Dean blinks, unable to come up with a coherent response because there isn't one. Sam's just confessed his secret desire for his brother and that should be a relief to Dean; he didn't infect Sam after all. Sam always wanted what Dean wanted. He’d worked hard to repress it, just as Dean had.
Sam had responded to Dean last night because he wanted it.
Dean isn't sure whether to be offended that his powers of seduction were so lame, or to be grateful that he and Sam were equally fucked up.
He never meant to fuck Sam up. This isn't fair to Sam. Sam should be free of all this crap...
"Yeah," Dean blinks again, trying hopelessly to clear his head. "I never wanted this for you, Sammy, y'know? I never wanted things to be so fucked up."
Sam steps closer, right into Dean's personal space, and takes Dean's face in his ginormous hands in a mirror of the way Dean held Sam's face earlier. Now there's nowhere to go, no way to escape without freaking out like a complete moron, and Sam knows it, the bitch. Sam tips Dean's face up like he owns it, like it's always been his, like this moment was as inevitable as the sun rising.
Dean looks up at Sam's face and the entire world falls away. This is the only place he ever wants to be.
"I know," Sam says with a little nod, then the sun is blocked out as Sam bends closer. Dean closes his eyes a split second before Sam's soft, soft lips touch his.
The kiss is gentle, hesitant, exploratory. It's their first, Dean thinks. They didn't kiss last night. They were too busy. They kiss carefully, making sure of each other, confirming they're both on board.
Sam gets needy and demanding pretty fast, though, starts panting and nipping and moaning. When he pushes his tongue between Dean's lips he's already sucked them swollen. He grabs Dean's shirt, clutching Dean's back and shoulders with his big hands. Dean feels consumed, surrounded, breathless and dizzy with the sheer force of Sam's need. He tips his head back just to get some air and Sam kisses down the line of his throat, across his jaw to his ear, sucking Dean's earlobe into his mouth and nipping it with his sharp little teeth.
"Been wanting to do this all day," Sam murmurs into Dean's ear before he kisses the tender place below it, pushing his tongue against the sensitive skin, making Dean gasp.
Sam's hands are everywhere. He's holding Dean with one long arm while he slides a hand down over Dean's chest, squeezing his pec as if it's a breast. He slides his hand down over Dean's belly, lower. Dean gasps as Sam's big hand closes over his swollen dick, squeezing through his jeans.
"Need you, Dean," he pants in Dean's ear. "Can't stop thinking about your dick. Wanna suck you off like you did for me."
A thrill shoots through Dean at the thought of Sam on his knees, right here by the side of the road in broad daylight where anyone can see them.
“Fuck,” Dean breathes.
Sam slides to his knees and it's happening. Right out here in the open in front of Nature and God and whoever happens to drive by. Sam presses his face into Dean's chest, kissing through his t-shirt as he struggles with the button and zipper on Dean's jeans. Dean helps, out of his mind with how hot it is to have Sam kneeling in front of him, gazing up at him with lust-blown eyes. Sam holds Dean's hips steady as he gets his jeans open, pushes his boxers aside so his erection bobs free.
"Jesus, Sam," Dean gasps as Sam's mouth presses against his shaft. Sam kisses and licks at the engorged flesh like it's some kind of obscene popsicle. Dean shoves a shaking hand into Sam's hair, letting the soft strands slide though his fingers as Sam wraps one big hand around the base of his cock. He closes his eyes as the head slides between his lips.
"Fuck," Dean chokes out as Sam tongues the slit. Dean's head tips back and his eyes close so he can focus on the sensations as Sam sucks in as much as he can, inexpertly slurping, careful to cover his teeth with his lips. It's obviously his first time, which makes Dean weak with want. Dean moans as Sam's tongue twirls around the head of Dean's dick, clutching Sam's head convulsively. He pulls Sam’s hair a little to let him know it's good. It's really, really good. It may not be the best blow job he's ever had, but it's Sam, so it's fucking perfect, goddamn it.
Sam figures out a way to jerk Dean's dick with one hand while he licks and sucks at the head. Dean's pretty sure he won't last long. He glances down to see the concentration and determination in Sam's face, his obvious desire to make this as good for Dean as Dean did for him last night. It’s hot and sweet and maybe just a little comical because Sam's so serious. Dean's about to come all over Sam's beautiful face and Sam's being a total perfectionist.
Of course he is, Dean thinks as he runs his hand along Sam's jaw, tips his chin up. Sam's eyes lift to Dean's and Dean gives him a little smile.
"So good, Sammy," Dean purrs. "So hot like this, little brother."
Maybe it's saying the words "little brother" that tips Dean over the edge. Maybe it's the way Sam looks up with that puppy-dog expression of his, so hopeful and eager to please. Maybe it's a weird cocktail of both, but suddenly Dean’s coming, almost blacking out with the force of it. He's making a choked-off keening sound as he starts to come back to himself, and he's aware that Sam's mouth is still sucking his dick because it's suddenly too much. Dean's hand is still tangled in Sam's hair, and he's pretty sure he's just been yanking on it hard enough to hurt, so he lets go and pets it instead, soothing Sam's aching scalp.
"That's okay," Dean says, his voice rasping in his throat, rough. "That's okay, Sam."
He clears his throat and pats Sam's cheek, stepping back on wobbly legs. Sam lets him go, lets him tuck his softening dick into his jeans and zip up as Sam glides smoothly to his feet, hands still on Dean's hips.
"Good?" he asks, ever hopeful, gazing intently into Dean's eyes, so obviously looking for approval it makes Dean's chest ache.
Dean blushes and looks away, unable to stop the grin that threatens to break his face open.
"Oh yeah," he nods, and Sam steps closer, big hands cupping Dean's face eagerly, leaning in for a kiss.
The sound of a truck approaching makes them startle, and they jump away from each other guiltily. Dean catches a glimpse of Sam's expression at the same time that Sam glances at him, and the shocked look on both of their faces make them burst into giggles. They double over with laughter as the truck draws near. It's a logging truck, long and powerful, heading up into the mountains with a full load.
"Hey, you boys need a lift?" The driver pulls alongside and leans across the seat to call through the open window. "That your Chevy back there?"
"It sure is," Dean answers smoothly while Sam struggles to control his laughter. "And we sure do, thank you kindly."
"Hop in," the trucker says, pushing the passenger door open. "I'm headed to Shiloh, but there's a garage in Quincy so I can drop you off there."
"Thank you," Dean says, elbowing Sam in the ribs as he continues to giggle uncontrollably. "We're mighty grateful to you."
"She's a real beauty, that car of yours," the driver says after they're settled in the cab side-by-side, Dean in the middle. The driver's name is Mack, and he's lived in these parts most of his life, he tells them as they head on up the road.
"She sure is," Dean says proudly. "Doesn't like mountain roads much, though."
"Busted radiator?” Mack asks.
"Fan belt." Dean nods.
"Those old cars, they had a belt for everything," the trucker notes. "Not like they make 'em today."
"No sir," Dean agrees. "That's for sure."
"You're lucky I came along," Mack says. "I usually make this run on Tuesdays. Other than me and Johnson, who comes through on Fridays, there's not many of us use this road any more. It's a long hike to Quincy. Were you planning to walk it?"
"We were," Dean nods.
"Well, it's just a lucky thing I came along," Mack repeats. "A walk like that could've taken two or three days."
"We've got cell phones," Sam says. "We figured we could've called somebody when we got within range of a signal."
"Not up here," Mack shakes his head. "No cell towers up here yet. They keep talking about it, but the local fish and wildlife folks are against it. They want to keep this land pristine."
"It sure is pretty," Dean agrees.
"This here's God's country," Mack nods, glancing out the windshield to his right. "Best views in all of Montana."
Dean follows his gaze, catches Sam's profile and can't look away. "That's for sure," he agrees softly.
Later, after they fix the car and get back on the road, Dean pulls over at a rest-stop with a view and they get out the green cooler. They sit on the hood of the car and watch the sun set in silence, shoulders brushing every time one of them takes a drink. It's just a momentary respite from their crazy-tunes lives, and later they'll find a case and be back at it. But for now it feels good just to be together.
The little flutter of anticipation low in Dean's belly reminds him that things are a little different now, even if overall they’re the same as they ever were. They'll find a motel later, fuck each other's brains out maybe. They’ll take what comfort they can from each other whenever the work allows, and that'll be what they get. It's not normal, it's nowhere near perfect, but it's something they have. It's what they are.
It's a little like this country, Dean thinks as he watches the day end in glorious shades of orange and purple and greenish-blue. Wild and free and more than a little dangerous.