Fic: Virtual/Reality

[ellerkay]

Title: Virtual/Reality
Category: Romance
Characters: Sam, Dean
Rating: NC-17/Explicit
Wordcount: 6500
Disclaimer: All for fun, none for profit.
Summary: In a thrift shop, Sam picks up a virtual reality headset which shows him what he wants most: Dean. He can’t stop himself from returning to the virtual world again and again.
Warnings/tags: Swearing, pining, magical addiction, angst with a happy ending, meta fun
A/N: Written for the spn_reversebang, with beautiful art by cassiopeia7. Thank you for creating such gorgeous art and being such a joy to work with! You are a fantastic lady and I couldn’t have asked for a better collaborator.

Art Link: Masterpost on DW

Read on AO3




***




Of course, Sam hadn’t known that the virtual reality headset was cursed when he bought it.

He found it in the back of a thrift shop, on a shelf full of electronics. Sam wasn’t sure why he was drawn to it. He vaguely thought that maybe it could be a gag gift for Dean. It was only five dollars, and he bought it.

He brought it back to the bunker. Alone in his room, he took it out of the bag, staring at it as he turned it over and over in his hands. It seemed normal, and Sam fleetingly wondered, with some small part of his mind, why he was fascinated. But the thought didn’t really register, and before he knew it, Sam was putting the headset on.

For a second, he saw nothing. Sam realized how dumb he was being and gave a little laugh, reaching up to take the headset off. Suddenly, the blackness turned into a blue grid.

What do you want most? came a voice, not in his ears, but in his mind. It was genderless and spoke so low it was almost a whisper. Sam started to feel a little panicked and tried to pull the headset off. It wouldn’t budge.

One moment, please, said the voice. Ah. There we are.

Dean materialized in his field of vision, perfect in every detail. Sam took a step towards him without meaning to. In the virtual environment, he drew closer to the image as well.

“Dean,“ Sam said aloud, reaching out for him. The virtual Dean put a finger to his lips for silence and raised his hand up to meet Sam’s.

They touched. Sort of. It was like the memory of a touch, or a fantasy he’d thought out so many times he could almost feel it. But the image of their hands was crystal clear. So was the look in virtual Dean’s eyes as their fingers met.

Oh, god, Sam thought, aching with desire. He thought he’d gotten over this long ago. His teenaged years had been spent in a haze of heart-wrenching lust – and love – for his brother. Even when he was furious with Dean. Even when Dean was at his most annoying. Sam had gone to bed almost every night thinking of what he wanted his brother to do to him. He’d jerked off two or three times a day with Dean’s name on his lips, biting them till they bled to keep himself from saying it out loud.

Stanford and Jess had gotten Sam past that, he’d thought. It broke his heart to leave Dean – he hadn’t known before how literal that saying could feel – and he’d forced himself to get over it. He cried over Dean as often as he needed to, and he trained his brain to think about other things most of the time. And it had worked. He’d moved on. When he’d returned to Dean, and the life, it wasn’t like it used to be. They could just be brothers. Their version of “just” brothers, which probably seemed pretty extreme to most people, but still. Sam didn’t think that way about Dean anymore.

But now, this virtual Dean was standing in front of him, smirking and giving him bedroom eyes. Sam wanted him so badly that it hurt. Dimly, he realized he’d never stopped wanting him. Only buried the desire so deep, he thought it was gone.

Dean, he thought, plaintively, the tone he must have used all the time as a little kid. The virtual Dean smiled.

It’s okay, little brother. Sam saw Dean’s – the fake Dean’s – lips forming the words, but heard them in his head. Sam’s hand was shaking. It sounded exactly like Dean.

Virtual Dean pressed his lips to Sam’s fingers. Sam could almost feel their rough warmth, the wet of Dean’s tongue as it swiped his knuckle. Sam was hard, straining against his jeans. Dean stepped closer.

Sammy, he said. With a gasp, Sam made himself reach up and tear the VR headset off his face.

For a moment, reality seemed strange and far away. Sam shook his head, squeezed eyes squeezed shut. When he opened them, things appeared normal. Except for how everything was different.

Sam buried the headset in his closet, resolving never to put it on again.

***

The resolution lasted for a week, the length of their next hunt. Sam made himself to act normal around Dean; Dean would know in a second if something was wrong. He tried to burn the feelings off with morning runs and the adrenaline of the fight with the vampires. He tried to distract himself with the details of the case. But each night when he got into the bed next to Dean’s, his mind would fill with memories of the virtual Dean, with the sight of his brother’s face filled with lust. For him.

Maybe, Sam thought, if he let the scenario play out, just once, he would exorcise his own lust.

When they got back to the bunker, and the real Dean was out on a beer run, Sam locked his bedroom door, dug out the headset, and put it on.

Instead of the grid he’d seen the first time, Sam saw the bunker; his own room, so realistic that he thought for a moment that the headset was malfunctioning.

But the door to his room was open, and the virtual Dean appeared in the doorway, leaning against it with a cocky grin.

Miss me, Sammy? he said.

Shut up, Sam said automatically, and Dean chuckled. He approached Sam, who was sitting on the edge of his bed.

I sure missed you. He was practically crooning. He stopped in front of Sam and reached out to touch his cheek.

Dean, Sam gasped. The image of Dean leaned forward, and Sam could practically feel Dean’s lips on his.

Sam somehow felt Dean’s tongue in his mouth, and he let out a low moan. Dean’s hand was warm against his groin. Sam squirmed, trying to get more friction.

Don’t worry, Sammy, I’ll take care of you. Dean was unfastening Sam’s jeans, wrapping a hand around Sam’s dick. Sam panted and gasped as the simulation of his brother stroked him slowly. Dean kept kissing him, running his free hand through Sam’s hair, squeezing Sam’s neck.

Please, Sam said. Dean grinned just the way Sam knew he would and jerked him faster. Sam cried out as he came; it felt real. The second the orgasm was over, guilt and shame swept over him, and he pulled the headset off hastily.

He looked at his crotch and saw the wet spot on his still-closed jeans. He could feel his face reddening. He hadn’t come untouched like that since he was a teenager. He wondered what was powering the headset, but the thought slipped out of his mind as he got up to change his pants and immediately do laundry. He’d never hear the end of it if his brother figured out what had happened, even if Dean didn’t know why it had happened.

***

The experience did nothing to get the desire out of his system. If anything, Sam had to work harder to act normal around Dean. It was impossible to look at him without thinking about how ridiculously pretty he was – Dean would have stabbed him for saying that, but it was true – his bright eyes, full lips, and dusting of freckles. Sam would catch himself staring at Dean’s hands while Dean cleaned his guns or paged through a book or chopped food. All Sam could think about was those hands on him.

And his own hands on Dean. He wanted to feel Dean’s skin under his fingertips, hear what kind of noises Dean would make if Sam teased him or made him come. It was beyond distracting. And once, a few days after he’d used the headset, he stared for too long and Dean asked him if he was feeling okay. After that, Sam thought he should try the headset again. Maybe the problem was that the virtual Dean had only done stuff to him.

When Sam put on the headset that night, he found himself sitting on a bed in a cheap motel room. It was so generic that it seemed like of the average of all his memories of decades of cheap motel rooms. Maybe it was. Was the headset tapping into his memories? It must be…

He lost that train of thought entirely when the virtual Dean walked out of the bathroom, obviously fresh from the shower: a towel slung around his waist, droplets of water beading on his skin.

How’s it going, Sammy? he said.

For a moment, Sam couldn’t answer, as he gazed at the vision Dean made. Then he remembered his plan and stood up. Come here, he said.

Dean raised an eyebrow at him. Look who’s all take-charge all of a sudden, he said in a teasing tone. But he walked to Sam, stopping in front of him.

Lie down, Sam said, and the virtual Dean’s lips parted, eyes dilating slightly. He obeyed silently, sprawling out on the bed and looking up at Sam.

Sam let himself look for a long moment. Then he was on Dean, kissing him hard and running his hands all over Dean’s body, licking drops of water from his skin. Dean was moaning under him, and when Sam pulled the towel off, Dean’s cock was red and leaking. Sam swore he could feel the smoothness of Dean’s skin under his hands, the hard length of his dick as Sam swallowed him down. It felt more real than the last time, and Sam came right after Dean did, groaning and rubbing against the mattress.

Sam took off the headset a little reluctantly, wondering what would happen if he kept it on after the sex was over.

***

The next day, Sam was on edge, trying not to think about how badly he wanted Dean, trying to convince himself that he didn’t need to use the headset again. He and Dean got into a stupid argument. That night, hurt and in a foul mood, Sam decided that once more wouldn’t do any harm. He needed something to cheer himself up.

This time, they were in the Impala, parked for the night. When Sam couldn’t sleep, virtual Dean climbed over the seat to join Sam in the back and gave him a blowjob to help him relax. Once it was over, Sam didn’t remove the headset. He fell asleep in Dean’s arms, the backseat somehow big enough to accommodate both of them. When he woke up, the headset had come off in the night. Sam would have bet that if it hadn’t, he could have woken up in Dean’s arms too.

It freaked him out a little, and he felt so guilty he made up with the real Dean immediately. He didn’t let himself think about touching the headset for two days.

But the urge came back. Sam put it off for another few days, but he was obsessed with the memories of what had happened between him and the virtual Dean. The longer he waited, the worse the longing grew. Sam decided that he should try going ahead and using the headset when he felt like it. It might take the edge off, might make it easier to focus when he was around his brother, knowing that he had a safe space with an outlet for those urges.

If it didn’t work, he could always give it up again.

They were in a rare quiet spell, between cases and without any movement on the larger dramas that seemed to follow them most years. Sam decided he could use the headset each night before he went to sleep.

Whatever made it work seemed to have endless powers of invention. There was road head, there was shower sex, there was gentle, sleepy sex in bed. Dean tied him up and took him apart until he was a mess, begging to come and nearly crying when he finally did. The next night it was the same, only with their roles reversed.

Eventually, the scenarios became more elaborate.

Dean got cursed; he had to have sex or he’d die. He said again and again how it couldn’t be Sam, but there was no one around for miles. Sam insisted, pushed Dean down, made him accept it. After that Dean couldn’t keep his hands off Sam. He rubbed up against every part of Sam he could reach, shuddered at Sam’s slightest touch, pleaded to have Sam inside him. He said Sam’s name as he came.

They were back in high school; Sam an awkward freshman, Dean repeating his senior year. The virtual Dean was just as handsome as Sam’s memory of his nineteen-year-old brother. They made out under the bleachers and in the library. In the locker room, Dean got Sam off with his hand in no time. Then Sam dropped to his knees, blissed out at each word and noise from Dean’s lips. Sam swore he could taste him now.

They found a spell that would link them telepathically and used it on a case when talking out loud could have meant death. Sam caught Dean thinking how incredibly hot he found his brother. Sam showed him that he saw Dean the exact same way. They could feel each other’s pleasure while they made love, sensation compounding and becoming almost overwhelming. Their love was a tidal wave in both their minds.

Sam started using the headset twice a day, morning and night. After that, there wasn’t always sex.

They were out in the woods on a hunt in late fall, waiting for the monster to show up. It was freezing cold, and they couldn’t light a fire without giving away their presence. They huddled for warmth, Sam breathing in the smell of Dean’s skin and feeling giddy on it.

Sam worked in a coffeeshop. Dean came in, pretended they didn’t know each other, and flirted with him shamelessly. When Sam was on a break, Dean jumped him in the bathroom, and they jerked each other off. Dean pressed a hand over Sam’s mouth, telling him to keep quiet or he’d get himself fired.

They took a vacation for once and went to a warm California beach Sam had visited when he was at Stanford. The view was gorgeous, but nothing was as beautiful as Dean, laughing in the water and gaining more freckles. When he kissed Sam, he tasted like salt and smelled like sunshine.

Sam rescued Dean from the djinn, the way he had years ago. Dean haltingly admitted that he and Sam had been together in his hallucination. Sam took him in his arms and told him he could have that in the real world too.

The virtual worlds were beginning to feel more real to Sam than the real world did. When he didn’t have the headset on, everything seemed remote. Dealing with the real Dean was laborious, and he was getting suspicious. Sam imagined what Dean would think if he knew what Sam had been up to and felt sick. He told Dean he had the flu and holed up in his room, venturing out only for the occasional bowl of broth and some crackers. Sam caught sight of himself in the mirror and saw that he was gaunt and pale, with dark shadows under his eyes. He decided not to look in the mirror anymore. It didn’t matter anyway. In the virtual world, he was perfect. Dean was perfect. Everything was perfect.

The motel they stopped at was out of rooms with doubles; they shared a king-sized bed, and Sam woke up to Dean rubbing against Sam in his sleep. Dean was a merman, and when they kissed, Sam could breathe underwater. Sam was back at Stanford; Dean was there, and they were roommates. Under the influence of a truth serum, Dean admitted that he’d wanted Sam since they were teenagers. Sam was a vampire, and he came with his fangs in his brother’s throat. They retired from hunting, bought a house, and picked out curtains. A witch hit them with a spell; they switched bodies and knew exactly what to do to each other. They were on a case and had to pretend to be dating; Dean’s kiss-for-show was hesitant and warm. It was like it was the first time.

Sam only kind of remembered that it wasn’t the first time. The real Dean had never kissed him or touched him like that. He didn’t care. All he could see and smell and feel was Dean, who was inside him and pounding…pounding…

There was a pounding on Sam’s bedroom door. Sam blinked at it blearily, trying to figure out if this was one of the simulations. He was in bed with Dean, who glared at the interruption.

Get ready, he said. The door gave way, and Sam saw – Dean. He glanced between that Dean and the Dean in his bed in confusion, wondering if this was going to turn into a threesome.

It’s a shapeshifter, said the Dean in his bed. Kill it, Sammy! Sam grabbed his gun off the bedside table and aimed it at the other Dean.

“Whoa, whoa,” the other Dean said, hands up, moving towards Sam cautiously. His voice echoed strangely in Sam’s ears. “Relax, man. It’s me.”

It’s lying, said the Dean in his bed. Kill that son of a bitch and we’ll pick up right where we left off. He pressed a kiss to Sam’s shoulder. Sam shuddered with desire, still half-hard from the activities the other Dean had interrupted.

“Come on, Sammy,” the other Dean pleaded. “Please. It’s me.” The pain in his voice was clear and familiar. Sam hesitated. As he did, the standing Dean blinked, and his eyes turned black.

Sam flinched but didn’t shoot. His stomach was sinking with a slow, unwelcome realization. I thought you said it was a shapeshifter.

Who cares what it is? snarled the Dean in his bed. It’s a monster. Kill it.

The other Dean inched towards him.

“Why haven’t you gone for a weapon?” Sam said, speaking aloud without meaning to.

“Don’t be stupid. You know I’d let you shoot me dead before I hurt you,” the other Dean said. He was less than a foot away and abruptly his arm shot out.

Dean ripped the headset from Sam’s face. Sam gasped like he was coming up from underwater. It took a minute for the world to come into focus. Dean’s eyes were normal, and he was wearing a different outfit than Sam had seen in the virtual environment. There were heavy-duty work gloves on his hands. He glared at the headset.

He walked to Sam’s metal trash bin and threw the headset in, grabbing lighter fluid from Sam’s desk. Sam felt like his heart was going to explode.

“Dean, no!” he shouted. Dean doused the headset thoroughly. Sam tried to jump to his feet. He had to stop him. But days of barely eating had taken their toll, and he could only manage to sit up straighter.

“Please, Dean, no,” he begged. “Don’t. I’ll stop. I won’t use it again.”

Dean lit a match and threw it into the bin. Flames leapt up, and Sam gave a hoarse cry. Dean looked at him, face pinched and worried. Sam collapsed back on the bed, sobbing. Dean approached Sam slowly, like he was afraid Sam was going to point a gun at him again. He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam tensed, trying not to melt at the touch and turn to Dean open and ready, as he’d gotten in the habit of doing. Dean pulled his hand away quickly.

“Geez, dude,” Dean said. “What did you see in there?”

“What I wanted most,” Sam managed to choke out. He realized he was naked – he’d started getting undressed before each session because he was sick of doing the resultant laundry – and he pulled a blanket over himself. He felt cold, and he was shaking.

Dean didn’t ask more, for which Sam was profoundly grateful.

“I’ll get you some water,” was all he said, and he left the room.



***

For days afterward, Sam felt like there was a tight band around his chest, squeezing until he could barely breathe. He felt grief like someone he loved had died; in a way, he supposed, they had. Virtual Dean hadn’t been real, and once Sam’s head started to clear, he knew that the headset had been evil. He was chilled to the bone to think he could have killed his actual, flesh-and-blood brother on the virtual Dean’s orders. And yet…Before that, it had been wonderful. Sam couldn’t help but mourn for what he’d lost.

He mostly stayed in bed, weak from lack of nourishment and too depressed to want to be up and about. Dean brought him food. Sam did his best to force himself to eat it. Dean’s cooking was good, but everything tasted like ashes. Sam tried not to let Dean know the loss and despair he was feeling, but his eyes were red and puffy from frequent crying. He knew they must give him away.

His room was dimly lit and quiet. Still, the real world felt too bright and loud after spending all that time in the virtual one. Sam couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop remembering how good Dean’s touch had been. The real Dean made him feel loved too, but the destruction of the headset had meant the loss of something incalculably precious.

Dean was quiet and careful around him; gentle, like he thought Sam was going to shatter. Sam didn’t mind it. He felt that way, as if he was thin porcelain already beginning to crack. He reminded himself repeatedly that he still had Dean, but it wasn’t the same. The virtual world had thrown open a door in his heart that had been shut so tightly he’d thought the feelings behind it were gone. But Sam didn’t think he could close it again. He’d have to learn to live with the knowledge of what he wanted and would never have.

For over a week, Dean didn’t ask Sam any more questions about what he’d experienced in the virtual reality. But one night, surveying the remains of Sam’s barely-eaten dinner, Dean made a tsk sound.

“Must be really hard on you, leaving a normal life,” he said. Sam, who had been lying on his back in his bed, sat up.

“What are you talking about?”

“The stuff you saw in the headset,” Dean said, as if it was obvious. His face was that careful neutral he used when he was attempting to hide a lot of emotion. Sam could see the worry and pain bleeding through. “You always wanted a normal life. Must’ve been tough, having to give it up again.”

Sam blinked. “I – that’s not what I saw.”

“No?” Dean looked closely at him. “Well, what was it, man? You’re freaking me out. You’ve barely gotten out of bed since I destroyed that thing.”

Sam closed his eyes, remembering the virtual Dean saying to him once, How ’bout we never get out of bed again?

“Believe me,” he said dully. “You don’t want to know.”

“Oh, come on,” Dean said. “I told you what I saw when that djinn had me under its spell. It’s the same thing.”

“It’s really not,” Sam said softly.

“How bad could it be? What, was I dead or something?” He caught Sam’s expression, and his eyes flashed hurt. “Was I?”

“No, Dean, of course not. Pretty much the opposite.” Sam regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Dean was never going to let that go.

“What? What’s the opposite of me being dead? Super energetic? Super horny?”

Sam looked up at that and gazed at Dean steadily. After a second, Dean’s eyes widened.

“Horny?” he repeated, sounding like he hoped Sam would say no.

“Something like that, yeah,” Sam replied. He felt tired.

“So…you and me were…” Dean gestured back and forth between them.

“Together. Um, romantically.” Sam thought his own voice sounded robotic.

Dean half-turned away from him, rubbing his hand over his mouth. When he looked back at Sam, he was frowning. “But you – you said it showed you what you wanted.”

“It was a surprise to me too,” Sam heard himself say. “I didn’t think I still wanted that.”

“Still?”

Sam didn’t know how to respond. After a pause, Dean spoke again.

“Okay, well, I should let you get some rest,” Dean said. “I’m gonna go, uh…” Another pause. “Have a drink.”

“Okay,” Sam said.

Dean went to Sam’s bedside table and turned out the light. Sam lay back, but Dean didn’t move. He was a shape by Sam’s bed, outline visible in the light from the open doorway. Sam thought about how he had almost always been there, a Dean-shape looming large in Sam’s life. How bad it had been, the times he thought that shape was gone.

“Sleep tight, Sammy,” Dean said at last. He left, shutting the door behind him.

Sam stared up and wondered if he would ever see Dean again. Maybe this time he had ruined things for good.

***

After awhile, Sam fell into a fitful sleep. He awoke with a jolt when his bedroom door opened, but it was only Dean. Sam checked the clock on his bedside table. It was after three in the morning.

“What?” he said, yawning. “What’s wrong?”

“’M sorry,” Dean said, his voice slightly slurred. “Sorry, Sammy.”

“For what?” Sam asked, thinking of the headset.

“I must’ve…must’ve fucked you up bad.” Dean sounded close to tears. He was very drunk. “You never would’ve wanted…that thing…us thing…if I didn’t want you first.”

Sam sat bolt upright at the words. “Dean – “

“Will you forgive me?” His voice was anguished. Sam realized with a sinking heart that he wasn’t going to be able to have a rational discussion about this. Maybe ever, if Dean felt this guilty. If he had to get this trashed to admit what he felt.

“Of course I forgive you,” Sam said softly. He got up and put an arm around Dean’s shoulders, too sad and worried to get a thrill from the contact. “Come on, I’ll help you to bed.”

He tried to steer Dean out of the room, but Dean turned around. “Sleep here,” he said. He had twisted in such a way that his face was half-pressed into Sam’s chest. He inhaled deeply.

“You smell good,” he announced. “Come here often?” He started giggling, happy now with the mood swings of the truly plastered.

Sam smiled slightly, although he felt more like crying, and guided Dean to his bed. Dean flopped down on his back. Sam prodded him until he rolled over onto his side, grumbling. Sam got his trash bin and put it near Dean, just in case. It smelled funny and still had scorch marks from when Dean had burned the headset.

“Oh fuck,” Dean said, grabbing the bin the second it was in reach and retching. Sam winced. He waited until it seemed like Dean was done, then took the bin to the kitchen and quickly rinsed it out. He brought a clean bucket back to his room, in case there was a second round.

Dean was breathing deeply, his eyes closed. Sam decided he didn’t want to leave him. He didn’t care if it was awkward in the morning. He got back into bed, carefully leaving some space between them and turning his back to his brother. Dean stirred.

“Sammy?” He sounded pitiful.

“Yeah?”

“’M sorry.”

Sam shut his eyes. “It’s not your fault, Dean. Go to sleep.” He almost laughed, thinking how far away the virtual world felt right now. In all the scenarios the headset had shown him, certainly none had ever included Dean puking his guts out.

***

“Sammy?” Sam’s eyes fluttered open. He saw from his clock that it was past nine in the morning. Dean sounded normal now, if confused.

“How’s your head?” Sam asked, not rolling over. He didn’t want to think about the fact that he was waking up next to Dean. It wasn’t how he wanted this to be. How it had been in the virtual reality.

“Fine…” The covers rustled as Dean sat up. “Oh, fuck.” He groaned. “Nope. It feels like someone was hitting it with hammers all night. Is that what happened? Were there elves with tiny hammers?”

“No, there was alcohol,” Sam said.

“Why did I – ” Dean fell silent abruptly. After a second, Sam felt the mattress dip as Dean swung his legs around and stood up. “I’m gonna brush my teeth. My mouth tastes like ass.”

Sam rolled over after he heard Dean leave the room. He sighed heavily, which turned out to be a mistake because now all he could smell was Dean. Sam felt quietly miserable. He’d felt close to normal for a few minutes when he was taking care of Dean. He hadn’t forgotten his own turmoil, but it was easy to put it aside when Dean needed him.

He thought about what Dean had said and felt a tiny seed of hope in his heart. He tried to fight it away. There was no way anything would ever come of it. Was there?

Dean reappeared in the doorway, face damp and bright pink with scrubbing. “You know, you could’ve kicked me out of your bed.”

“It seemed easier to just let you do what you wanted.”

“Well, then you could’ve taken mine.”

“Dean,” Sam said abruptly. “Do you remember what you said last night?”

“Not when I was drunk. Before…” Dean hesitated, then his mouth set in a determined line. “Listen, don’t worry about it, okay? Shit happens. We had a weird childhood. Plus, you were cursed. It wasn’t your fault. We don’t have to, you know, have a whole thing about it. It won’t be weird.” He spoke with a sureness which Sam knew meant he was trying to convince himself.

Dean wanted to pretend he didn’t know the truth, but Sam wasn’t prepared to do that. Not when there was a glimmer of the possibility of what he wanted with Dean. Sam sat up.

“Dean,” he said. “When you were drunk, you said you…wanted me too.”

Dean froze, his eyes wide. He tried to laugh. “You probably didn’t hear me right. I bet I was slurring, huh?”

“I understood you fine.”

Dean blinked. “Well, I don’t know, man. I was drunk. Maybe I was trying to make you feel better.”

“Definitely not,” Sam said. “Anyway, people tend to be more honest when they’re drunk.”

Dean’s eyes darted around as he tried to think of another out. “Well, I mean – ”

Sam stood up, fear and hope competing for primary control of his emotions. He took a step towards Dean. “Dean,” he said quietly. “Please. Tell me the truth.”

Dean blew out a breath. “This is a mean thing to do to a guy with a hangover,” he said. “Lemme at least get some breakfast.”

Sam examined Dean’s expression, then nodded. He didn’t think Dean was going to try to weasel out of this conversation permanently.

***

To feel surer of it, Sam followed Dean to the kitchen. When he noticed how slowly Dean was moving, he sat Dean down at the table with a big glass of water and told him to drink it.

“Coffee,” Dean said, in a complaining tone.

“It’s brewing. Drink that whole thing in the meantime.” Dean grumbled but didn’t argue further. Sam padded around the kitchen, frying bacon, scrambling eggs, and making toast. He made enough for both of them, feeling hungrier than he had in weeks.

“Thank you,” Dean said fervently, when Sam put the full plate and steaming mug of coffee in front of him. He tucked in with gusto. Sam smiled slightly as he watched Dean eat and enjoyed his own breakfast at a more reasonable pace.

Dean was intent on breakfast until his coffee was half-gone, and his plate was almost empty. Finally, he heaved a contented sigh and straightened up a little, taking another sip of coffee.

“Okay,” he said. “I feel kind of like an actual human again.”

Sam had only eaten half of his food, but his stomach knotted at the words. He rested his fork on his plate. “So – ”

“So,” Dean interrupted. “What did you see in virtual reality land anyway?”

“Um.” Sam felt his cheeks color and avoided Dean’s eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, don’t give me that. You were wasting away in your room because of that thing. It must have been a hell of a story.”

“Are you sure you want to hear about this?”

“You were the one who insisted we talk.” There was a challenge in Dean’s tone.

“Fine.” Sam bit his lip and stared into his mug. “It was…it was all kinds of things. Not just one scenario, like you had with the djinn. It was different every time.” He huffed a laugh. “Whoever cursed that thing had a hell of an imagination, I can tell you that.”

He looked up to see Dean scowling. Dean shoved back from the table the second Sam’s eyes met his. He stood up and paced a few steps.

“So there was this, like, fake version of me that you did all this stuff with?” he demanded. Sam shrugged.

“Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

Dean’s frown deepened. He turned around, his shoulders tense.

“Dean…” Sam rose from the table, feeling very surprised. “Are you…are you jealous of the virtual you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dean snapped. He slammed his mug down on the kitchen counter. Sam felt thankful it didn’t break.

“Dean…” Sam took a step closer to him, raising an arm but immediately letting it fall, not sure what was allowed now. “It was just ones and zeroes. Or a magical construct, or whatever.”

Dean turned around again, face full of anger and hurt. “Well, that’s not how it seemed when you were naked and ready to shoot me.”

Sam swallowed a lump in his throat. It was hard to argue. In a way, he had felt something for the virtual Dean. “I’m sorry for that, Dean. More than you can know. And as for the virtual you…It was an addictive magic. And it got in my head, so I wasn’t sure what was real. But…” He hesitated, but if they were talking about this, he might as well be honest. “Anything I felt for him was only because…” Sam looked at the floor, unable to say this and make eye contact. “Because I wanted to be with – the real you. And I never thought it would happen.”

He was afraid to look up; whatever Dean felt about that, it would be written all over his expressive face. After a second, Sam heard Dean move towards him, and his socked feet came into Sam’s field of vision. Sam raised his head to see Dean reaching for him.

“He ever do this?” Dean’s expression was fierce as he grabbed the back of Sam’s neck and pulled Sam towards him. Sam gasped with surprise and moaned as Dean’s lips crashed against his. No, he thought, the virtual Dean had never done this. He’d kissed Sam, of course, hundreds of times, but it hadn’t been like this. Not even near the end, when everything had felt intensely real. The virtual environment had never gotten Dean’s smell exactly; his teeth had never scraped Sam’s lips accidentally; he had never been this warm. He’d never tasted like bacon and coffee. Most importantly, he’d never been what Sam truly wanted: Dean.

Dean’s hand clamped around his wrist, and then Dean was dragging him back to the bedroom. His grip was tight enough that it hurt. The virtual Dean never would have been unaware of that. Sam never wanted Dean to let him go. But he didn’t protest when Dean dropped his arm and started pulling Sam’s shirt over his head. Dean mouthed along Sam’s collarbone and neck once it was off.

“Did he do this? Did he do this?” Dean kept asking. He shoved a hand into Sam’s pajama pants and wrapped it around Sam’s leaking cock, hips rocking as his own erection pressed into Sam’s hip. Sam couldn’t find breath to answer, but Dean didn’t seem to expect one. His free hand roamed Sam’s body, like he was trying to smooth away the insubstantial touch of his virtual counterpart.

Sam felt like his legs weren’t going to support him much longer. He shoved his pajama pants off and sat down, pulling Dean onto the bed with him and undressing him as fast as he could. Dean complied readily. Sam stared at his brother’s naked body like the miracle it was, covered in scars and freckles that Sam had forgotten and which the virtual Dean hadn’t had.

Sam shut his eyes as Dean straddled his hips and fitted their cocks together, afraid he would come from the sight alone. He clutched Dean’s back and buried his face in Dean’s neck as Dean stroked them together, the pleasure building until Sam was gasping.

“Dean, Dean,” was all he could say.

“God, Sammy, yeah, fuck,” Dean said, voice strained with desire. Sam lost it at that, pulsing over Dean’s hand. Dean groaned low and Sam could feel him coming too, their cocks still pressed together.

Sam kept holding tight to Dean, his eyes shut tight. He was afraid to open them and find that he was still wearing the headset after all, that none of this was real.

He felt Dean’s hand on his back, felt Dean press a kiss to his neck.

“So,” Dean said. “Reality live up to the fantasy?” He sounded anxious, and Sam’s eyes opened automatically at his tone. He pulled back until he could see Dean’s face. Dean wore that expression he used when he was trying to pretend something was no big deal, when actually it was a huge deal.

“Yeah,” Sam said, laying a hand on Dean’s cheek. He felt relieved when Dean didn’t flinch away. “God, yeah. This was better. So much better.”

Dean smiled, then attempted unsuccessfully to erase all emotion from his face.

“‘Course it was,” he said, trying for arrogance. “I’m way better in the sack than some stupid curse version of me.” He gave Sam a lopsided smile, too relieved to play it cool for long. “Just glad you’re into live and not only Memorex.”

Sam rolled his eyes, smiling and feeling relieved too. This had to be the real world because virtual Dean had never managed to be quite as obnoxious as the real Dean could be.

“Hey Sam,” Dean said warningly. “Don’t think I can service you every hour like that headset did though. I’m not your own personal Gigolo Joe.”

Sam grinned. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”