Pairing: Dean/Sam, Dean/Dean/Sam, Dean/Dean
Summary: When Sam’s time-travel closet spits out a Dean from 2010, Dean realizes (again) that he’s grateful for the way things turned out, in more ways than one. Then Sam reveals that Dean’s not the only one with a thing for twins.
READ IT ON AO3 Or below the cut.
Dean’s brother is a real pain-in-the-ass.
He doesn’t mean it literally, of course. God, no. Sam’s such a little spoon it isn’t even funny. Mostly it’s awkward and uncomfortable, in fact, at least until he falls asleep. Then Dean can slip an arm around Sam’s slim waist, press his chest against Sam’s muscled back, and bury his nose in the long, soft hair at the back of Sam’s neck. Sleep doesn’t come for Dean until Sam’s in his arms, safe and sound.
Sam’s usually gone when Dean wakes up. He goes running at the crack of dawn most days, so it never bothers Dean when he finds himself alone in the bed. He stretches out into the gigantic space occupied earlier by his overgrown little brother and breathes deep. The bed still smells like Sam, like home.
Dean dozes a while longer, waits for the sound of the shower running that tells him Sam’s back from his run before he pulls himself out of bed to make breakfast.
Usually Sam pads into the kitchen after a few minutes, mostly dressed except for his over-shirt and boots since he’s still overheated after his run. His hair’s usually damp and brushed back from his freshly-shaved face, and he smells like citrus shampoo and shaving lotion.
Only this morning, Sam doesn’t come.
Dean finishes shoveling bacon and pancakes onto a plate, slides the plate into the oven to keep warm, and goes in search of his brother.
Sam’s not in the bathroom, although the steam that still clings to the mirror over the sink and the lingering scent of citrus tells Dean that Sam was here recently.
The door to Sam’s room is closed, and Dean’s so surprised it takes him a moment to process. They never close their doors on each other. It’s a silent rule between them. If one of them is that desperate for privacy, he lets the other one know ahead of time.
“I’ll be in my room” is code for “I need some me time,” and it happens so rarely that Dean can’t even remember the last time Sam did this. Sometimes Sam needs his space, and Dean gets that. But he always lets Dean know ahead of time so Dean doesn’t worry.
Dean almost knocks. Then he hears something that sounds like a wounded animal crying and he grabs the doorknob and pushes the door open instead.
Sam’s standing in the center of the room, holding a man in his arms. The guy is pressed so tight against Sam, up on his tiptoes with his face buried in Sam’s neck, that at first Dean doesn’t recognize him.
Then Dean notices the open door to Sam’s closet. The closet that doubles as a time-travel device. Sam’s personal DeLorean. His Tardis.
Now Dean gets it.
“What the hell?”
Sam looks up, rests his chin on the shoulder of the man he’s holding.
Dean. It’s another version of Dean.
“He’s you,” Sam says softly, needlessly. Dean can see that.
The other Dean starts, jerks out of Sam’s arms like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Which, yeah. His cheeks flush red as he blinks rapidly, obviously struggling with his emotions. He’s still close enough to Sam for their arms to brush, like he can’t bear not to touch him.
Jealousy blooms in Dean’s chest, hard and hot. He studies the man’s smooth face, recognizes the shirt he’s wearing.
“So you’re from when, 2010?” he ventures. “Lisa gave me that shirt. Hated me for walking around in Sam’s clothes all the time.”
Other!Dean nods. Besides the shirt and a t-shirt under it, he’s wearing jeans that look fairly new, and socks but no boots.
Dean remembers this. He remembers those weeks and months after Sam triple-Lindied into the box with Lucifer. There was a lot of drinking, a lot of passing out in the garage with the car and one of Sam’s shirts for a pillow. A lot of Lisa nagging him to shower and shave and eat. To get a job. She bought him new clothes, tried to encourage him to put the past behind him in her gentle, subtle way, which just made Dean hate himself more for being so ungrateful. For wanting to curl up in a ball and die.
It wasn’t pretty. It’s a time in his life that Dean wishes he could forget.
“Let me guess,” Dean says, struggling to keep the scorn out of his voice. He hates this version of himself with a passion. “You passed out in the garage again.”
Other!Dean nods. “When I woke up, the cabinet door was open, and there was this light...”
“You think you’re in Heaven. Great.” Dean throws his arms up, glares at Sam. “I’ll just leave you two to your reunion. When you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen, eating the breakfast I just made. For us.” He waves his hand between he and Sam, glaring at Other!Dean. “Because we live here. This is our home. Explain it to him, Sam.”
Sam nods, sympathy painted all over his gorgeous mug. “It’s true,” he says to Other!Dean. “You just time-traveled. Through my closet. It’s the year 2018 here.”
Other!Dean blinks up at him, and Dean can tell he’s not even listening. All Other!Dean can see is Sam, the brother he thought he’d lost forever. His brain can’t take in anything else.
Dean shakes his head, waves dismissively and turns to leave, exchanging a quick look with Sam. He knows Sam wishes he’d stay but understands why he doesn’t, why he can’t be in the same room with this earlier version of himself for another minute.
“I’ll be in the kitchen,” Dean repeats as he slams the door behind him.
Dean’s halfway through his second stack of pancakes when Sam and Other!Dean arrive. Other!Dean’s eyes are red, like he’s been crying, and Dean can barely stand to look at him. He gestures at the plates of bacon and pancakes sitting in the middle of the kitchen table and takes a sip of his coffee.
“Dig in. Sam knows where the plates are.”
Dean barely looks up as Sam guides Other!Dean around the kitchen, pouring him some coffee and pulling out a plate and utensils. Sam’s plate is already on the table, of course.
“So. You live here now.” Other!Dean’s trying to be gruff, trying to bury the emotions he’s just let loose all over Sam’s bedroom. Dean knows, because it’s the way he felt when he first saw Sam again after the Cage.
“Yeah.” Dean nods, clears his throat. He can’t look at the guy. “Sam’ll give you a tour after breakfast, if you’re up for it. I’ve got some stuff I gotta do.”
“I’d like that.”
“You know you’ve just got 24 hours, right?” Dean says. He needs it to be clear. “Then you’ve got to go back.”
“Dean.” Sam’s soft voice is so annoying. Dean knows he’s got a lot of sympathy for this sad sack of an excuse for a brother. He doesn’t need to use that tone. “He knows.”
“Good,” Dean grumbles. He gets up to clear his plate, unable to sit for another minute. When he feels Sam’s hand on his wrist, he almost shakes it off. He has to stop himself from grabbing his hand away, pinning Sam with an angry glare instead. “What?”
“Stay with us,” Sam pleads, hazel eyes gazing up at him with that expression Dean can never resist. “Please. He’s been through a lot, and I need you two to talk.”
Dean stares, incredulous. “I got nothin’ to say to him.”
“I think you do. I think...Dean, I need you to forgive yourself. I know you think you’re unforgiveable, but that’s not true. He’s from a time when you were beating yourself up, when you thought you’d never be able to live with yourself, but you did.”
“Because you came back!” Dean yanks away, crosses to the sink and dumps his plate with a loud clatter. “Life went on after you came back, Sam. Not before.”
“Yes, before. You were doing it. You were making a life for yourself without me.”
“Not much of a life,” Dean mutters. He glances at his other self, who’s still eating, sitting as close to Sam on the bench as he can get without being in his lap. “Drinking, passing out, yelling at Lisa and Ben. Not sleeping. Waking up screaming when I did sleep...you know the drill. You know what that’s like.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Sam insists. “Me jumping into the box with Lucifer wasn’t about you making a mistake.”
“It sure as hell felt that way,” Dean grumbles.
Sam shakes his head. “No, no, no. It was about you trusting me. You let me go because you trusted me to do what needed to be done to fix my mistake...”
“And you fixed it!” Dean feels his blood pressure rise. “You did it! You jumped into Hell with the devil and saved the world! Isn’t that enough? Why would you want to go back and revisit that? Why the fuck is he here?”
Sam rises smoothly to his feet and crosses the room, presses right up in front of Dean so that his hulking frame hides the other Dean from view. Dean stares up at his brother, at the love and sympathy in his beautiful eyes, and he knows he’s not going to win this one.
“He’s here because I need you to forgive yourself,” Sam repeats.
“Yeah, you said that...”
Sam’s big hands come up to cup Dean’s face and Dean knows he’s in trouble the second before Sam leans down and kisses him. It’s a deep, possessive kiss and Dean returns it automatically because Sam needs him to and because he can’t ever not give Sam what he needs.
Plus, it’s hot as hell, doing this in front of that younger version of himself. Who is he kidding? Dean’s always been a bit of an exhibitionist, if truth be told. Showing off to the younger versions of themselves who are still repressed and in denial is one of the hottest things about that crazy time-closet of Sam’s.
Of course, usually it’s a younger version of Sam.
Dean chubs up in his pants just thinking about that time they shared a younger version of Sam, how hot it was watching the two Sams together...
Dean reluctantly pushes Sam back and turns his head away. “Okay, I see where this is headed,” he says, hating how ragged his voice sounds. He grabs Sam’s gigantic biceps and turns him aside so he can get a look at his doppelgänger. The man is staring, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, and Dean lets himself feel smug and triumphant for exactly two seconds.
Until Sam drops the bomb.
“I want to see you two together,” he says.
Yep. That’s what Dean thought.
And it’s not like Dean’s shy. It’s not like the idea of a little self-cest isn’t hot. He is a fine-looking man, after all. Even Dean can see it.
Doesn’t mean he’s fine on the inside, though. Dean’s used his good looks to hide his mistakes all his life. And this earlier version of himself has just made one of the biggest mistakes ever. He’s failed to save his brother. His brother. He did everything he could think of to get Sam out of that Cage, but he couldn’t do it. He failed.
But now Sam’s here anyway, despite Dean’s efforts. And if Sam wants a little self-cest kink in his life, who is Dean to refuse?
“Hey, I’ll try anything once.” Dean challenges Other!Dean. “Right?”
Other!Dean blinks, closes his mouth. “I — I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You two are — “
“Yeah, we are,” Dean snaps. “As if it isn’t everything you ever wanted. So shut up.”
“But I’m not — Sam and I haven’t — “
“Come on.” Sam nods, gesturing to Other!Dean, beckoning. “Let’s fix that.”
“If it’s what you want,” Sam says, reassuring and sexy at the same time. Dean shivers. “You won’t remember when you go back, so it won’t affect things in your time. It’s okay.”
Other!Dean’s eyes widen, almost popping out of his head, and his cheeks flush. Dean’s chest grows warm in sympathy.
“I — I won’t remember?” Other!Dean stammers.
“Well, maybe you’ll think you just had one of those kinky incest dreams you love so much,” Dean smirks. “Remember those? The ones you’re always pretending you don’t have?”
“Oh my God, Dean. Freak the guy out, why don’t you!” Sam huffs out a breath.
“What? I’m him. I know how he thinks. Who he thinks about. Even in his sleep. Especially in his sleep. Those nightmares aren’t all bad, are they, Dean?”
“Depends on what you mean by ‘bad,’” Other!Dean mutters. His pupils are blown, but he’s blushing, obviously having a hard time looking Sam in the eye.
“It’s all the guilt.” Dean shakes his head. “He still thinks he corrupted you when you were a kid. He thinks you left for college because you needed to get away from a sex predator. He thinks it’s basically all his fault you went dark side and took up with Ruby.” And it ain’t over yet, he doesn’t say. No sense in going into more gory details, since some things haven’t happened yet for this Dean.
Sam steps toward Other!Dean and the guy rises quickly to his feet, almost knocking the bench over.
“That’s all in the past for me, Dean,” Sam says quietly, putting his hands out to placate Other!Dean. “A long time ago. The important thing now is that we got through it and we’re still together. We saved the world, and now we have this, too.”
“That’s — “ Other!Dean swallows, unable to look away now that Sam’s right in front of him. Dean knows that deer-in-the-headlights feeling. When Sam fixes him with that doe-eyed gaze of his, there’s no looking away. No thinking straight. Nothing.
Sam reaches out, touches Other!Dean’s cheek. The guy’s frozen, but Dean can see the little shiver go through him. Dean knows how that feels, too.
This is so weird.
Sam starts to lean in, then tears his gaze away to glance back at Dean for permission. Dean’s so mesmerized he almost forgets what’s happening, why he’s got to give his permission for Sam to kiss another guy in the first place.
He nods, returning Sam’s look with as much of a cocky smirk as he can muster, assuring him that this is fine. Dean’s still in control. This isn’t weird at all.
When Sam kisses Other!Dean he does it with so much purpose, so much focus, like Other!Dean is the only other person in the room. The only other person in the world.
Does he kiss me like that?
Of course, Dean’s flooded with hot jealousy and insecurity. He knows it’s stupid. He knows this other Dean is him, and this isn’t like Sam’s kissing some random stranger.
But in a way, that’s worse. Sam knows how to kiss Dean. He knows how to claim his mouth with that slow, steady force that makes Dean feel owned. Consumed. Sam knows how to make Dean feel like there’s no other air to breathe but Sam, there’s no other touch on his skin. Sam’s huge hands cup Other!Dean’s face, slide down his shoulders, grab fistfuls of his shirt. Sam’s huge body blankets Other!Dean’s, shielding him and possessing him like Dean’s a favorite plush-toy. Wrapped up in Sam’s strong arms, pressed against Sam’s strong, lean body, Other!Dean melts into Sam so that there’s no space left between them. They’re one body, writhing and grasping and desperate, and if there was a way to climb inside and never leave, to be permanently fused, they’d do it.
“Okay, that’s enough!”
The lovers reluctantly part, Sam pulling himself away with effort, Other!Dean clinging, gasping. He’s blinking away tears as he looks up at Sam, desperation and longing in his eyes.
God, he’s so fucking obvious. Does Dean really wear his heart on his sleeve that way? Can everybody see it? Is it something random strangers see when he looks at his brother?
“You two need to get a room,” Dean growls, clears his throat. He’s hard and leaking, shaking with emotion. Watching himself and Sam is —
It’s freaking disturbing, is what it is. It’s not like watching Sam with a stranger, that’s for sure. Dean knows every touch, feels it like it’s his.
Sam puts out his hand, and Dean takes it automatically.
“Come with us,” Sam commands, and Dean nods.
Sam keeps an arm around Other!Dean, protective and solicitous of this suffering, overwhelmed version of his brother, as they leave the kitchen. Dean trails behind them in the hallway, hovering between jealousy and admiring the backside view. His other self is thinner than Dean is now, but his back is still strong. He’s still got a good ass.
Sam’s ass is perfect, of course. Not to mention his broad shoulders, slim waist, the way his hair curls at the nape of his neck...
But beyond the merely physical, Dean sees something he rarely has a chance to observe. Dean’s seen Sam with plenty of grieving witnesses, but this is different. This is personal. Sam’s being very careful. There’s something about Sam’s gentleness, his care of this vulnerable younger Dean, that makes Dean’s heart ache.
Okay, maybe he can do this. How hard can it be? And if it’s what Sam wants, if Sam needs this for some kind of closure or whatever, then Dean can manage. Dean can hitch his wagon to that ride, for sure.
But as soon as they’re in Dean’s room with the door closed, Dean panics.
“Hey, uh, maybe I should leave you guys alone for an hour or two,” he says, “let you get reacquainted. Let him adjust to this whole thing.”
“Dean.” Sam keeps his hand on Other!Dean’s shoulder, although it’s obvious the guy isn’t going anywhere. He’s clearly in Sam’s thrall, can’t think much beyond the fact that Sam’s here with him, alive and well, and Sam wants him. Other!Dean looks dazed and confused, and Dean’s pretty sure the guy still thinks he’s in Heaven. Dean would, if their situations were reversed. Except for the fact that there’s two of them here at once. Other!Dean seems pretty confused about that part, for sure.
“Yeah?” Both Deans answer at once, then exchange glances.
“I need you here,” Sam says, gazing pointedly at Dean. He turns to Other!Dean. “He’s going to watch, okay?”
Dean swallows hard, focuses on controlling his breathing. He is not going to freak out. This is just like watching porn. He can do this.
Other!Dean nods. He’s not really in a position to refuse Sam anything. Dean remembers how that feels. How it always feels, but especially after Sam’s been gone. Especially when Sam’s been dead. Possibly gone forever.
This time, when Sam kisses Other!Dean, it’s different. Not so gentle. Other!Dean’s over his initial shock and now he’s getting with the program. He kisses back with a filthy, open-mouthed desperation, clutches Sam’s back like he wants to rip the shirt off him. He moans as Sam holds his head, turns it so they get just the right angle. Dean knows how that feels, how consuming it can be to lock his mouth with Sam’s like that. Their tongues slide together like they’re fucking, chins wet with spit. Sam bites Other!Dean’s lip and Other!Dean bites right back, making Sam crazy, the way it always does. He shoves his hands up under Dean’s shirts, seeking skin, growling like the wild animal he becomes when he’s like this.
Dean’s fallen backwards into the desk chair without even realizing it, mesmerized by the scene unfolding in front of him. As Other!Dean shoves a hand down to grab Sam’s dick through his jeans, Dean gasps. He spreads his legs and palms his own dick in sympathy, unable to look away.
Other!Dean and Sam pull their shirts off, frantic to get naked, mouths crashing together again as soon as the shirts are out of the way. Their hands roam and clutch each other’s bare skin, and Other!Dean’s fingers tangle in Sam’s soft hair, tugging on it to get Sam to bare his neck.
Sam lets out a keening moan as Other!Dean nips and sucks at the long column of his throat, leaving marks. A wave of hot jealousy surges through Dean as he watches his other self laying claim to Sam this way, even while he knows exactly how it feels, exactly how necessary it seems in the moment. Other!Dean’s got his hands on Sam’s ass, squeezing those tight, perfect globes, and Dean knows how that feels, too. His hands itch as he watches, willing Sam’s jeans off him so he can imagine the smooth skin beneath.
As if Sam can read his mind, he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushes them down over his slim hips, tipping his face down to kiss Other!Dean quickly before taking a step back so he can remove the jeans completely. Other!Dean stares as Sam’s dick bobs free, then drops to his knees so fast it makes Dean wince. He could do that eight years ago, not so much now without a little tweak of pain. Dean’s impressed. And a little jealous.
He’s a lot jealous when Other!Dean takes Sam’s dick in his hand and starts licking it.
“Dean.” Sam lets out a breathy moan, closes his eyes against the urge to come, and Dean knows that sound. Intimately.
“Ah, hell no,” he mutters under his breath. He’s out of his seat and crawling toward Sam before he realizes what he’s doing. He pushes Other!Dean out of the way, his mouth watering of its own accord as he grabs Sam’s dick and swallows it down. His throat muscles flutter as they pull Sam in deep, and when he looks up, tears leak out of the corners of his eyes.
Sam smiles down at him, cupping Dean’s face with his big, warm hand. He wipes the tears from Dean’s cheek with his long thumb, barely notices as Other!Dean shuffles around behind Sam, still on his knees. Sam’s eyes close and his head tips back; he thrusts shallowly into Dean’s throat as Dean slides a hand up Sam’s belly to his chest, tweaking a taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
When he feels Other!Dean’s hand bump his, the hand he’s holding Sam’s hip with, Dean doesn’t even flinch. He can feel what Other!Dean is doing, knows he’s licking Sam’s crack, kissing his ass cheeks, though he can’t see him doing it. He can tell by the way Sam’s making those sweet little gasping sounds and rocking his hips back against Other!Dean’s mouth, then forward to thrust into Dean’s throat.
Dean’s got what he wants. What he always wants. Swallowing Sam down, taking Sam into himself like this, is all Dean ever thinks about some days. Most days, if he’s honest.
Dean’s right where he belongs.
“You like that, Sammy?” Other!Dean’s voice is rough, wrecked with emotion and lust.
“Y — Yeah,” Sam stutters, thrusting and rocking a little harder, making Dean’s eyes water.
“Gonna fuck that pretty little hole, Sammy,” Other!Dean pants. This time when his hand brushes Dean’s, Dean slaps it away, twists Sam’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and pulls Sam’s engorged dick even further down his throat.
As expected, this combination of stimulation produces the desired result.
Sam comes hard down Dean’s throat, his knees buckling so that Dean holds onto Sam’s hips, relaxes his throat to allow Sam to fuck into it as he comes down.
Other!Dean slides to his feet behind Sam, wrapping his arms around his not-brother, murmuring in his ear. “That’s it, little brother. That’s it. I got you.”
Dean swallows Sam’s last drop, lets his softening dick slip from Dean’s mouth as he sits back on his haunches, licking his lips. He’s feeling mighty proud of himself, and he knows it shows.
Sam reaches down and wipes his thumb along Dean’s lower lip, brings it up to his mouth and sucks on it, watching Dean through half-closed eyes that are blown almost black. He takes Dean’s chin between his fingers and tilts his head back, pulling his thumb out of his mouth with a loud pop.
“Kiss him,” he orders. The slight sneer of his lips combined with the demanding tone of his voice makes Dean uncomfortably hard in his jeans. There can be no denying his brother now. As if Dean could ever refuse a direct order from Sam, who sounds more and more like their dad the older he gets.
Dean struggles to his feet and grabs Other!Dean’s arm. “You heard him,” he says gruffly, pulling the younger man away from Sam, who collapses on the bed behind them to watch.
Other!Dean gives Dean a startled look, then glances down at Sam, who nods his encouragement.
Other!Dean is naked as a jaybird. As Dean pulls him closer, he reaches down to get ahold of Other!Dean’s hard cock, giving it a couple of quick jerks to take his mind off what’s about to happen. Other!Dean’s mouth drops open and his eyes close, too distracted by Dean’s touch to notice when Dean tilts his head to angle their mouths together. He can feel Other!Dean start as Dean’s lips touch his, then he relaxes into it, as Dean knew he would.
Dean pushes his tongue past his doppelgänger’s fleshy lips, letting Other!Dean taste Sam’s come, holding the back of his head as Other!Dean gives a shiver at the flavor. Dean pretends he’s kissing Sam to deflect his deep revulsion at the thought of kissing himself, but it’s still weird. He jerks Other!Dean’s cock the way Dean likes, but it’s an awkward angle so he’s sure it’s not quite right.
Other!Dean gets with the program, though, ready to do anything to please Sam, and when he deepens the kiss and runs a hand down Dean’s chest to palm his dick, Dean has to admit he’s had worse. Other!Dean unzips Dean’s jeans, pushes his hand inside to get a grip on Dean’s dick, and it’s almost good. Dean tears his mouth away as he gives into pure sensation, and his eyes meet Sam’s over Other!Dean’s shoulder.
Sam nods, gives Dean a soft smile. His dick is already half-hard again, and it makes Dean proud to know he’s giving Sam a good show. He remembers how hot it was to watch his brother with the younger version of Sam, and he’s glad he can do this. Really, he is. As weird and repulsive as it is to have sex with himself, it’s worth it if it makes Sam happy.
Sam reads the look on Dean’s face, slides off the bed and pushes himself up against Other!Dean’s back. Other!Dean gasps, leans back against Sam’s chest as Sam’s hands smooth down the bare skin of his arms.
“You’re both so gorgeous like this,” Sam murmurs into Other!Dean’s ear, kissing his neck before cupping Dean’s face, kissing him deeply over Other!Dean’s shoulder, tasting himself on Dean’s tongue. “So good for me, Dean.”
He reaches around and pulls on Dean’s t-shirt. “Take it off. Wanna see you.”
Dean steps back, pulls his shirt off over his head. His dick slips out of Other!Dean’s hand and Dean shoves his jeans and boxers down, steps out of them and his socks, gives Sam a smirk when he’s as naked as they are.
“Suck his dick.” Sam’s eyes flash, and Dean’s dick throbs.
Sam’s won again, the little shit. He always does.
Dean kneels down, ignoring the ache in his joints, and slides his hands over Other!Dean’s hips, closing in on his dick with deliberate intention.
This is how it’s done, you son-of-a-bitch, he mutters in his head before he takes Other!Dean’s dick into his mouth. Take notes, you little bastard.
Sucking himself is weird, not gonna lie. Dean’s always wanted to know what it would feel like to suck his own dick. Every adolescent male ever has imagined it. But to actually have the chance to do it is a little — strange. For one thing, Other!Dean’s dick is chapped, like somebody has been trying too hard to suck it, or like Other!Dean has been spending too many nights rubbing himself off without regard to how it might be physically hurting him.
Or maybe both. Maybe Lisa’s been doing her best to make up for what Dean’s lost while Other!Dean’s been wallowing in fantasies of his lost love, missing Sam with a vengeance. Like his heart’s been ripped out.
Sam plays with Other!Dean’s nipples while Dean’s being careful with his dick. He doesn’t want this to hurt. Not because he cares about Other!Dean. No way. But it would injure Dean’s pride too much. He gives the best blowjobs. Sam says so.
Other!Dean seems to agree, probably against his own better judgment. He’s gasping and trembling, his hands fluttering around Dean’s head as though he’d really like to run his hands through Dean’s hair, or maybe hold his head so Other!Dean can fuck Dean’s face good and proper.
“Do it,” Dean slurs, pulling off so he can talk. He looks up at Other!Dean and the guy looks totally wrecked. Sam’s kissing his neck, sucking on his ear. He smiles encouragingly at Dean as he continues to pinch Other!Dean’s nipples with his long fingers. “Go ahead. I can take it.”
Other!Dean lets him have it then, pounding into his mouth and down his throat while he holds Dean’s head. All Dean can do is hold on and try to breathe, try to keep his teeth from scraping Other!Dean’s tender skin.
Tears run down Dean’s cheeks, mixing with the spit sliding down his chin, the snot running out of his nose. Dean’s dizzy with lack of air and barely holding on to Other!Dean’s hips, but he takes it. He needs to. Other!Dean’s punishing himself. He’s doing this to relieve the ache of failure. He’s using Dean.
And Dean’s okay with that. As Other!Dean shudders and comes down Dean’s throat, as Dean’s passing out but refusing to let himself tap out, Dean knows he’s okay with this. It’s probably exactly what he needed.
The next thing he knows, he’s cradled in Sam’s arms, a warm washcloth on his face, soothing his skin. He can hear someone snoring, realizes dimly it’s Other!Dea, passed out after his orgasm. What a surprise. How unusual.
“Hey.” Sam kisses him, tasting Other!Dean’s jizz. “You okay?”
“He still thinks this is a dream,” Dean mutters, his voice hoarse and shaky. His throat’s sore.
“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “That’s okay. This is for you, not him.”
Dean blushes. “You’re such a freak.”
“The freak who loves you,” Sam reminds him. He slides a warm hand down Dean’s belly, cups his balls, his still-hard dick. “You want me to take care of this?”
“Sammy, you don’t have to...”
But Sam knows him too well. He huffs out a soft, “Yeah, right,” before kissing a long, slow line down Dean’s chest to his dick. Dean lets himself go under Sam’s skilled hands and mouth. He prides himself on being a good example to his little brother, in teaching him well. Sam knows exactly how to make Dean feel good. He knows how to apply just the right amount of pressure to his balls, how to manage just the right twist of his dick. His tongue curls around Dean’s cockhead in just the right way before Sam sucks him down, making Dean hiss and gasp. He writhes and thrusts shallowly, looks down at Sam through slitted eyes, sucks in a breath when Sam looks up at him.
“Fuckin’ beautiful, Sammy. Jesus!” He squeezes his eyes shut to keep from coming too soon. The sight of his little brother giving this to him is always too much. Sam’s a gift Dean never deserved. Having Sam in his life always overwhelms him.
Grieving and suffering like the poor sack lying next to them on the bed — that feels real. Dean without Sam is something Dean can understand, something he can sink his teeth into. It’s living in Hell right here on Earth. No wonder Other!Dean thinks this is a dream. He can’t believe he’ll ever get Sam back because that’s the punishment he deserves for being such an ass when he had Sam, when Sam was his but Dean let him jump into that Cage with Lucifer and Michael, losing Sam forever.
Dean’s eyes fly open when Sam squeezes his balls just right and realizes Other!Dean’s awake. He’s watching them.
“Come here,” Dean murmurs hoarsely, and Other!Dean does. He lets Dean pull him close so they can kiss, so Other!Dean can taste himself. Other!Dean holds Dean’s jaw, angles their mouths just right. He slides his hand down over Dean’s pec, flicks his thumb over Dean’s nipple. Dean reaches down, finds Sam’s hand and tangles their fingers together as he thrusts up into Sam’s mouth. Other!Dean kisses like a pro, like Dean likes because that’s how Dean kisses, always solicitous of the other person. Always being sure to make it good for them.
Other!Dean tears his mouth away and kisses down Dean’s neck, over his collarbone. When he takes a mouthful of Dean’s pec, his tongue flicks over Dean’s nipple the way his thumb did before, making Dean gasp. Sam’s already got him on edge, but when Other!Dean bites, the sharp, shivery sensation just this side of pain, Dean loses it. He comes so hard he blacks out again, regains consciousness with Sam pressed against him, kissing his lips, feeding him his own jizz. Other!Dean is pressed up against his other side, watching them, running his fingers through Sam’s hair, one leg tucked between Dean’s. He’s half hard, his erection pressed against Dean’s hip, and Dean guesses Sam’s almost ready again, too. It’ll be Dean’s turn to watch again.
“Want him to fuck me,” Sam murmurs against Dean’s lips, and all Dean can do is nod.
It’s surreal watching Other!Dean’s first time. It’s not really a first, since they fooled around the summer before Sam left for Stanford, but they never did this. They never went this far. Other!Dean is obviously overwhelmed, bordering on panicking, so Dean shows him what to do, how to lube up good and open Sammy up till he’s a sloppy mess. Then he pulls back, lets Other!Dean ease his way into Sam’s welcoming body. They do it face-to-face because that’s the way Sam wants it, because he knows Dean likes it that way, too. It’s weird watching Sam being fucked by another guy, but it’s way weirder to watch himself doing it. It gets embarrassing when Other!Dean bursts into tears.
But Dean understands, that’s the weirdest part. He knows how it felt to miss Sam, knows how much it meant to have him back. Dean thanks the gods of sheer dumb luck every day for giving him this, for letting him have Sam after everything he did. Dean understands, even if Other!Dean’s emotional outburst makes him shake his head.
He doesn’t say, “Oh come on, pal! Really?”
Dean doesn’t even let Other!Dean see him roll his eyes. He just rubs the guy’s back, soothes him as he fucks Sam, as he watches Sam come undone over Other!Dean’s shoulder, watches Sam hold the backs of his knees and order Other!Dean to fuck him faster and harder.
Dean figures it’s as close as he’s going to get to the forgiveness Sam was looking for. It’s more like toleration, or a kind of resigned acceptance, but it’ll have to do.
Sam comes again just before Other!Dean releases, just before Other!Dean goes still the way Dean always does when he comes. Dean’s younger self stutters and apologizes afterwards because he’s really just a big baby in the sack, same as always. He collapses in Sam’s arms as Dean leans down to kiss Sam’s slack lips, just to remind him who’s in control here.
Dean leaves them tangled together on his bed while he showers and heads into the kitchen to fix lunch.
Other!Dean spends the day following Sam around like a puppy, pretending to be interested in the tour of the bunker. He obviously doesn’t believe their stories about John’s father, about being legacies of the Men of Letters, about the bunker being their inheritance and their home.
Dean gets it. He can tell that Other!Dean doesn’t believe any of it because it sounds too good to be true. Even Dean has to admit that things have worked out in a way he never would have allowed himself to imagine all those years ago. Back then, Dean was just waiting to die, to have a chance to see Sam again in Heaven maybe. That was the best he ever dared hope for, when he was where Other!Dean is now.
“We could tell him about Mom,” Dean suggests mischievously when they’re washing dishes after supper. “Really blow his mind.”
Sam makes a face. “Dean. No.”
Other!Dean sits sipping his whiskey and staring into Sam’s laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe. He looks up when Sam joins him.
“So Cas never made it back,” he suggests.
“What? No. No, Cas came back,” Sam assures him. “He’s out doing angel stuff at the moment.” With Jack, Dean adds silently. He catches Sam’s eye, nods at Sam’s silent warning. No need to bring up Lucifer’s kid while Other!Dean’s brother’s still stuck in the Cage. There isn’t enough whiskey in the state of Kansas to painsplain that one away.
“He never answers my prayers,” Other!Dean says bitterly. “Figured he’s done with us.”
“No, he came back. Just like I did,” Sam says. “He was just a little busy for a while.” No sense telling this Dean that Cas was working with Crowley to find Purgatory, almost ending the world and betraying the Winchesters in the process.
Some things are better left in the past, where they belong.
“So how long?” Other!Dean asks, and both Sam and Dean understand.
“About a year,” Dean says. Longer, if you count the six months after Sam’s soulless body walked back into my life, Dean doesn’t say.
Other!Dean looks devastated. Tears fill his eyes. “A whole year? In Hell? With Satan?” He scrubs his hands over his face, grabs the whiskey and knocks it back in a single swallow. “Fuck.”
“I’m okay, Dean,” Sam says softly. “I’m here.”
“How?” Other!Dean looks up at Dean, desperation in his eyes. “Was it God? Did He finally show up to fix the mess He made?”
“Not God.” Dean shakes his head, clenches his jaw. He sets the cup he’s drying on the counter with a sharp thwack.
“Then how? I couldn’t summon a demon, couldn’t even find a witch who would help. Nobody wants to go near that Cage. Bobby keeps telling me there’s no way, wants me to stop trying. I’m still not sure if he’s telling the truth or if he knows a way and just won’t tell me...”
“Dean.” Sam puts his hand out. “You got me out, okay? You did it. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?”
No sense in going into the details, all the months Sam spent soulless and without his brother, unable to feel how much he missed him. No sense at all.
All those months when Dean was so desperately grateful to have his brother back he didn’t give a damn that there was something wrong with him. Everybody comes back from Hell different, he told himself. Sam remembered the torture, and that was bad enough. Dean needed Sam, was more than relieved to take him any way he could get him, no matter how broken or bruised.
“Hey,” Dean says, putting the last dish away and turning to his brother and Other!Dean. “What do you say we watch a movie? Sam’s got a great collection of old stuff. All the Bruce Willis movies, old Clint Eastwood...”
Other!Dean agrees, stops asking questions when Sam takes his arm, guides him down the hall to Sam’s room.
Within minutes they’re making out, of course. Other!Dean’s wedged between them on Sam’s bed and he’s too desperate for it. Needs that closeness to Sam that makes him ache all the way down to his bones.
Dean can feel him yearning for it. He can feel Other!Dean’s restlessness almost from the moment the movie starts. Other!Dean scoots down so he can press his face into Sam’s neck, slides his hand down over Sam’s chest to his dick. Sam spreads his legs, gives Other!Dean some room to maneuver. His breath hitches. He lets Other!Dean rub against his hip, suck at his neck, squeeze and message his dick through his jeans.
Dean doesn’t even try to concentrate on the movie. The main attraction’s right there on the bed with him. He turns his body so he can rub up against Other!Dean’s broad back, exchanging knowing looks with Sam as he pushes his erection into Other!Dean’s plump ass. After their showers, Dean gave Other!Dean some of his clothes to wear, so that now Other!Dean feels even more familiar. It’s starting to feel less weird, having him around. More like having another brother.
A sadder, unhappier brother, but not unfamiliar. It’s not like he hasn’t been there. Not like he doesn’t know how Other!Dean feels.
The sex is slower, less frantic this time. Other!Dean isn’t quite so desperate. He’s bought into the dream, lets himself go along for the ride. He can’t take his eyes off Sam, drinking in every touch, every sensation like he can store it away for later recall, which of course he can’t. He’s only got a few more hours, then it’ll be all over for him. He’ll be back in the garage at Lisa’s house, waking up with a hell of a hangover and no memory of any of this.
They fall asleep together in a tangle of arms and legs afterwards, and when Dean wakes up, Other!Dean’s gone.
Dean stretches out, reaches for Sam and pulls his tree-trunk arm around him. Sam scoots up behind him, spooning him, burying his face in the back of Dean’s neck, and almost immediately falls asleep again. Dean’s grateful. He doesn’t want Sam to go just yet. Doesn’t want him to get up to go running like he usually does. He needs Sam right here with him for a little longer this morning, and Sam seems to understand that, like he usually does.
Dean’s grateful to have a little brother who knows him so well. As he drifts back to sleep, safe and warm with Sam’s massive body curled around him, Dean’s thankful. Maybe he doesn’t deserve this, but he’d be an idiot not to appreciate it while he has it.
Sam’s love is redemptive. Forgiving. Unconditional.