Keep This Secret: Part Four
Jun. 20th, 2019 01:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellerkayMasterlist
Part Three
***
Dean woke up with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d had nightmares all night. He couldn’t remember any details, but he knew Oberon had been in them, and Sam, and Oberon-as-Sam.
Guilt and horror flooded his mind as he thought about what had happened the previous evening. How could he have let himself do that to Sam? He should never have touched him. And he couldn’t ever do it again; how could he? Sam was his brother. And Dean had ruined everything. What if Sam couldn’t take it and left him again?
Dean’s heart was racing and he felt so nauseous he was afraid he might throw up. Sam had rolled away from him in the night, thank fucking god. Dean slipped out of the bed and started throwing on his clothes as quickly and quietly as he could. He didn’t put his shoes on, and as he stared down as them in his hands, he remembered saying, shoes.
Sam had been trying to give him an out right before that. Sam had given him so many opportunities to say no. Fuck, maybe Sam hadn’t even wanted to – do what they’d done. Maybe he’d been doing it because he thought that was what Dean wanted.
Dean shivered, sickening dread gnawing at his insides. Couldn’t he get anything right? All he’d ever tried to do was take care of Sammy, and now he’d done something so twisted and wrong…Sam might never forgive him, when he woke up and remembered what had happened.
Dean wanted to sprint for the door, but he made himself pad quietly towards it. He turned the handle slowly and carefully, but it clicked, the sound loud in the hushed room. Dean heard Sam stir.
“Dean?” Sam said, voice heavy with sleep.
“Go back to sleep, Sammy,” Dean said, fighting to keep his voice normal. He didn’t turn around. He couldn’t look at Sam right now.
“Dean, where are you going?” Sam asked, sounding so worried that Dean almost turned around. But he couldn’t make himself. He heard the sheets rustling – Sam must be getting up – and Dean opened the door.
“Dean, wait,” Sam said, a frantic edge to his voice. Dean swallowed hard, really afraid he was going to throw up now. He stepped into the hallway, but Sam was just a step behind him.
“Dean – “
The door opposite Sam’s opened and Adam stepped out. Dean stared at him. Adam stared back, his eyes flicking back and forth between Dean and Sam.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Dean burst out. He risked a glance at Sam. Sam, thankfully, had pulled on boxer briefs, but his face was a mask of horror. Dean’s stomach dropped. Just like he’d thought – Sam was totally freaked out by what had happened, too.
Dean looked back at Adam, whose face was ashen. “You – you two are – “ Adam stuttered.
“No, no, man, it’s nothing, it’s nothing,” Dean babbled. Dimly, he was aware that he couldn’t possibly be helping their case with this reaction.
Adam looked at him, then at Sam again. “Lucifer used to tell me you were in love with your brother,” he said hollowly. “He said that was what I come from. A family of twisted perverts – “
“Lucifer lies with the truth,” Sam said. He sounded angry now. “We’re not monsters.”
Adam shook his head and backed up into Gilda’s room, head still shaking like he couldn’t stop. The door slammed shut.
“Fuck!” Sam shouted, hitting the doorframe with his fist. Dean stared at him for a frozen moment. When Sam looked up at him, the anger drained away. He took a step forward.
“Dean, I – ”
Dean stumbled back, suddenly terrified to have Sam touch him or even look at him.
“I gotta shower,” he managed to get out. He fled into his room, shutting the door fast behind him. He leaned against it, breathing hard, wondering if Sam was going to start pounding on it, demanding to be let in. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Sam tried it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Sam to do it or not.
After a moment, he heard Sam’s door close.
Dean’s vision blurred, his eyes burning with tears. He tried to blink them away, tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, but a choked sob escaped him. He walked slowly to the bathroom, stripping his clothes off again as he did. He stepped into the shower, wishing he knew how to set it very hot. To his surprise and relief, it was much hotter than last time, seemingly responding to his unvoiced thought. Dean stood under the water and cried until he ran out of tears.
***
After he’d gotten out of the shower and dressed, Dean wandered out of his room in a haze. He stared at Gilda’s closed door, then Sam’s. He turned and headed down the hall. He walked through the castle until he found a back exit Barnabas had shown him the other day. It led to a lush garden in full bloom. Dean went through the opening in some tall hedges which would provide at least a little privacy. In the middle of the hedged-in expanse of lawn and flowerbeds was a burbling fountain. The statue in the middle was a huge, monstrous creature with a dozen tentacles which Dean found unsettling even though he usually had kind of a thing for tentacle monsters. He avoided looking at it, focusing on the soothing sound of the water instead.
Wishing he could go for a drive, Dean sprawled on the grass in the morning sun and flung an arm over his eyes. The air felt warm and mild, but not overly hot. He wondered what season it was in the fairy realm. He couldn’t really remember what season it was in the human world, either.
The human world, where he lived with Sam, in Baby and in motel rooms and maybe in the bunker now. Or used to, anyway. Dean wrenched his thoughts away from that and tried not to think about anything at all. He really should find some alcohol, but he didn’t want to move. He felt numb and far away from himself.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there when he heard the sound of softly ringing bells.
“Dean? What’s wrong?” asked a tiny voice. It sounded very worried.
“Nothing, Barnabas,” Dean said.
“But your aura is black,” Barnabas said. “You must be very upset!”
“Leave me alone,” Dean mumbled. After a beat, he felt a small weight land on his sternum. He considered waving the fairy away, but he didn’t even think he could make himself move his arm right now.
He felt Barnabas’ light steps walking up his chest. Something sharp jabbed him under the chin. Dean’s eyes flew open and he started up so he was leaning on one elbow.
“Ow! Dude, what the hell?” Dean demanded. He wiped his chin and found a spot of blood on his finger. He glared at Barnabas, who was holding his rapier.
Barnabas glared right back at him. “You are being very foolish!” he trilled. “How can you expect to go on if you won’t take help when it is offered to you?”
The rush of surprise and annoyance which had animated Dean was already fading. He flopped back onto the ground. “There’s nothing you can do to help,” he said. “There’s nothing anyone can do.”
Barnabas flew next to his ear and pinched it severely.
“Fuckin’ stop that!” Dean said, managing to wave a shooing hand at the fairy this time. Barnabas dodged him easily. He hovered in front of Dean’s face.
“You are wallowing,” he informed Dean. “It’s very unattractive, even on you. Have you had breakfast today?”
“I’m not hungry,” Dean said. It was a lie. He was hungry, he just didn't want to eat.
Even after just a couple days, Barnabas had evidently gotten sufficiently acquainted with Dean’s appetite to look more worried at this. He flew back and forth a couple inches in consternation.
“You are probably too sad to know that you are hungry,” he declared. “I will bring you food and then you will realize it.”
“Barnabas – ” Dean started. He really wasn’t in the mood to try and force food down.
“You see?” Barnabas said brightly. “There is something I can do!” He zoomed away. Dean sighed and shut his eyes again. Maybe it was just as well that Barnabas was insisting on trying to help. At least it was a distraction from the ugly thoughts rattling around in his head.
Ten minutes later, Dean made himself sit up when he heard the tinkling bells which signaled Barnabas’ return. He saw a loaded tray floating towards him as if it were moving of its own volition. Dean blinked, wondering if it was fairy magic. He glanced around for Barnabas, but quickly realized that the tiny fairy was carrying the tray. It made him smile, just a little bit. He reached out to take it off his friend’s hands.
As Dean set the tray on the ground, Barnabas flew up till he was level with Dean’s face again. “I hope I brought enough,” he said anxiously.
Dean raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the food. “Yeah, I think you brought enough for a small army,” he said. There were plates piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns, one plate full of what looked like half a loaf’s worth of toast, another with six different pastries, and assorted little pots with butter, jams, and jellies. Best of all, there was a huge mug of steaming black coffee. Dean grabbed it immediately and added some cream – he often had it black, but he wasn’t sure if his stomach could take that today. He wrapped his hands around the mug, relishing the slight burn, and sipped it gratefully.
Barnabas watched Dean swallow coffee for a couple minutes before bouncing in the air. Even the bells which accompanied the movement managed to sound impatient.
“Food,” he said insistently. “You must eat, my friend!”
“Gimme a minute,” Dean muttered. Barnabas flew down to the tray, picked up the knife, and started buttering a piece of toast. Though his strength was more than equal to the task, the difference in scale obviously made it laborious.
“All right, all right,” Dean said irritably. He put down the coffee and took the knife from Barnabas. When the toast was buttered, he made himself nibble at it as he drank the coffee.
Evidently this wasn’t good enough. A few minutes later, as he was staring off at nothing in particular, a piece of bacon floated into Dean’s field of vision. Barnabas flew it at him, pointing towards Dean’s mouth.
“Open wide!” he shouted enthusiastically.
“Dude!” Dean grabbed the bacon. “You don’t have to feed me like I’m an infant.”
“Apparently, I do!” Barnabas looked pointedly at the buttered triangle of toast on the tray, only half-eaten. Dean rolled his eyes and took a bite of the bacon. It was amazing, of course. The food in the fairy realm was really something, and it stayed hot no matter how long it had been sitting out. Still, Dean didn’t really want it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware that he should be alarmed to find himself uninterested in great bacon. But he couldn’t seem to care.
Barnabas kept hovering near Dean’s face until Dean had eaten two pieces of bacon and a whole slice of toast. Finally, the fairy sat down on the edge of the tray with an air of triumph. He began pulling off and consuming handfuls of croissant, the pastry nearest to him. Dean settled back on one elbow again and worked on his coffee. He felt somehow better and worse at the same time. He was a little more grounded, his head clearer. But the haze he’d been in before had been somewhat easier to deal with. Now, it was hard to avoid the harsh realities staring him in the face.
“Did you fight more with your brother?” Barnabas asked suddenly. Dean’s stomach lurched and he swallowed hard as the food and coffee in his stomach threatened to exit it very quickly.
“No,” he said, when he could speak without fear of throwing up. “Not exactly.” He could hear the anguished tones of his own voice. He shut his eyes and rubbed his temples, hoping fervently that Barnabas would take the hint.
But that hardly seemed to be the little fairy’s style. “What do you mean?” he asked curiously. “You can talk to me!”
Dean’s eyes blurred at Barnabas’ guileless sympathy. Suddenly, he just wanted to tell him. What did it matter, anyway? Barnabas was something like a friend, but not one he was likely to keep in touch with. Who cared what he thought?
In another corner of his mind, Dean thought that it would actually hurt quite a bit to see this simple, kind, weird little creature turn from him in disgust. With an ugly feeling in his chest, Dean knew that just made him want to tell him more. Barnabas should be disgusted. He should abandon him. It was what Dean deserved.
He made himself say it.
“Me and Sam had sex last night.” His own voice, shaping those words, sounded so wrong.
Barnabas was silent for a long moment. Dean kept his eyes on the grass, not wanting to see Barnabas’ face grow cold.
There was a tinkle of bells, and Barnabas flew into Dean’s sightline. He looked faintly puzzled.
“Is that all?” he asked.
Dean blinked at him. “Sam is my brother,” he reminded the fairy. He’d found that Barnabas could be quite forgetful.
Barnabas gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “I know who Sam is,” he said in a tone of withering scorn. “So what?”
Dean shook his head slightly in an attempt to clear it. “So – so he’s my brother! I had sex with my own brother.” Barnabas was still staring at him blankly. “Dude, that’s incest! It’s – it’s sick! I’m a freaking monster!”
Barnabas’ expression cleared. “Oh!” he said. “I’d forgotten about you humans and your incest taboo. We don’t have that here.” He smiled cheekily. “It’s considered a little bit naughty, you know, but all well and good amongst consenting partners! I’ve had sex with a couple dozen of my siblings. It’s fun.”
Dean tried to process this. “But like – dude, what if one of the girls gets pregnant? You could have mutant babies.”
Barnabas waved dismissively. “She just chooses not to get pregnant! If she does and wants to keep the baby, magic will make sure nothing is off.”
After his time among fairies, Dean wondered if anyone would be able to tell if a fairy was ‘off,’ but decided not to ask.
“But I recall now that humans have imperfect birth control, and a dearth of magic.” Barnabas peered into Dean’s face. “Is that the problem? Are you or your brother afraid of getting pregnant?”
Dean blinked at him. “What – no! Jesus, can male fairies get pregnant?!”
“They can if they have a uterus,” Barnabas said. “All right, so pregnancy is not a fear. Why can’t you have sex with your brother?”
Dean’s jaw dropped open. “He’s my brother!” he said. “Look, maybe it’s not a big thing for fairies, but among humans, it’s just fucking wrong.”
“Why?”
“Just – just – it is!” Dean spluttered. “It just is, okay? That’s the deal. It’s sick and wrong and that’s how it is.”
Barnabas shrugged. “Okay, but that seems very silly to me. You said you and your brother have only each other, or near enough. You obviously love him. I’m sure he must love you, because you are wonderful.” He beamed at Dean. “So, your love has taken a new form! This should be celebrated, not mourned.”
Dean’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He tried to think of what to say. After a moment, Barnabas flew forward, put his hands under Dean’s chin, and gently shut his jaw. Dean felt him press a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Why don’t you talk to him?” Barnabas said. “You are so sad. He is probably sad, too, and misses you.” Dean closed his eyes and shook his head.
“I can’t,” he said hollowly. “You don’t understand, man. It’s not that simple for us.”
Barnabas hummed sympathetically. “Well, then I will wait with you until you are ready.”
Dean sighed and lay back on the grass again, head in his clasped hands. Barnabas settled on his chest. You might be waiting a long freaking time, dude, Dean thought.
***
Memories of last night and Barnabas’ words swirled around in Dean’s head. Despite his churning mind, the warm sun did its work and he eventually fell into a miserable doze. He woke up with a jolt awhile later, hearing Sam calling his name. He sat up, blinking blearily.
“That’s him, isn’t it?” Barnabas said. “I’ll get him!”
“Don’t talk to him about what I told you!” Dean called after him, sick with fear that Barnabas was about to offer Sam some well-intentioned and deeply inappropriate advice about sleeping with your own siblings.
A moment later Barnabas reappeared, holding Sam’s index finger and pulling Sam along after him. Dean looked up at Sam, his heart in his throat. Sam looked haggard, even worse than he had for most of this trip.
“Dean, I was looking everywhere for you,” Sam said. Dean looked at the ground.
“I just needed some time,” he mumbled.
“Come on. We have to go find Gilda and talk to Wayne.”
Dean looked up at him again. “What’s wrong? Is it Adam?”
Sam stared at him like he was nuts for a moment, and then shook his head. “No, Dean, you! The sanctuary will be up in a few hours. We have to figure out this whole service thing.”
“Oh. Right, that.” Dean had completely forgotten about his Oberon problems. He got up, rising more quickly that he had expected to. He realized it was because Barnabas was pulling on his shirt to help him.
“Okay,” Dean said. “Let’s find Gilda.”
***
They were silent on the way back to their rooms. Dean wanted to say something, but his brain felt slow and empty. He could barely look at Sam.
Sam raised his fist to knock on Gilda’s door, but before he could, it swung open. Wayne stood before them.
“Oh, Winchesters,” he said, oozing pleasantness. “I was just coming to let you know your service to Oberon is all taken care of. I assume you’ll be heading home soon, now that you’ve gotten what you came for.”
“What?” Sam said blankly.
“How?” Dean asked at the same time, deeply suspicious.
Wayne waved a hand. “You’ve given him something in return. I’m sure your friend and your brother will tell you all about it.” He smirked. “I hope your stay in my home has been a pleasant one. Let me know if you ever want to do business again. You give good secret. My buyer was very pleased.”
“Hang on – ” Dean said, but Wayne brushed past them, and Dean found himself somehow unable to stop him. Wayne walked off down the hall, whistling merrily.
“Gilda, what happened?” Sam asked, looking into her room. She was standing a few feet inside and had watched the exchange.
“Come in,” Gilda said. “Let us explain.” Sam and Dean stepped into the room, pausing when they saw Adam. He was sitting in an armchair – Gilda’s room was equipped with a couple of armchairs and a small sofa around a low table.
Adam was wrapped in a quilt. He looked pale but composed. “It’s all right,” he said. “You can come in.”
They entered slowly. Sam sat down on the sofa. Dean dithered for a beat about whether to sit next to him or in the armchair – both seemed like equally bad ideas – and finally decided to just remain standing.
Gilda stood next to him and put a hand on the small of his back. Dean startled and looked down at her. She smiled kindly at him. Her hand was warm and Dean could feel himself relaxing marginally. The fog of pain that had been clouding his mind all day eased off a little. He remembered how Adam had reacted to her healing magic and decided to just let her do it if she wanted to. God knew he could use it.
“We traded with Oberon in exchange for your service,” Gilda started.
“What?” Sam asked immediately.
“Me,” Adam said.
Dean could feel his heartrate shoot up. “What?! No, no fucking way! Get Wayne back here, tell him fuck no.” He glared at Gilda. “How could you let this happen? And get off me!” His body jerked, throwing her hand from his back.
“Please,” Gilda said in soothing tones. “Let me explain.”
“I don’t know how you could possibly explain this in a way that makes it okay,” Dean spat. “No one is taking a bullet for me, especially not the guy who just got out of Hell!”
“Dean, calm down,” Sam said. “Let her talk.” His eyes were beseeching. He jerked his head minutely towards Adam. Dean looked at their half-brother; Adam’s eyes were wide and he had drawn the quilt closer around himself. He was shaking.
Dean took a breath and nodded. “Okay, okay,” he said, more quietly this time. “Sorry.”
“We traded your service for Adam’s,” Gilda began.
“That’s not an option,” Dean said, forcing himself to keep his voice calm.
“That is not the end of the story,” Gilda said patiently. “Do not think I would let someone in such need of healing and rest be forced into servitude.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Sam said quietly. “What’s the rest?”
“Oberon agreed to the trade because though Adam is not your father’s first-born son, he is his mother’s, and fairies trace ancestry through the matrilineal line,” Gilda explained. “We agreed to make the trade because Oberon accepted my family’s offer to buy Adam’s service. With us, he will be servant in name only. He will be able to rest in our home, and I will be able to continue helping him to heal.”
“That’s how Gilda thought of it,” Adam said. “I said I didn’t want to leave her and she realized we could solve your problem if I stayed in the fairy realm, if Oberon would agree.” He smiled tiredly. “She’s very clever.”
“I don’t know,” Dean said immediately. “This seems like it has the potential to backfire somehow.” He grimaced. “Shit tends to backfire for us.”
“I’m willing to take the risk,” Adam said firmly. “You two got me out of the Cage. Let me repay the favor.”
“If you’re sure it’s what you want,” Sam said quietly. His expression was sad. Adam looked at him for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you want to help. But – and it’s not your fault – you still look like Lucifer to me. Even though I know you’re nothing like him. I can’t be around you all the time. Not yet.”
“I get it,” Sam said, his voice almost inaudible.
“And…” Adam hesitated. “It seems like you two have, um…stuff of your own to deal with.”
Dean could feel his face getting hot. He clenched his jaw and stared at the floor so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with anybody in the room.
“I can’t say I really get it,” Adam continued. “But Gilda had kind of a different perspective on…your sort of situation. It’s given me a lot to think about.”
Dean rubbed his temples, trying not to completely freak out that Gilda knew. She didn’t seem to be repulsed, anyway. She probably had the same weird views on it that Barnabas did.
“So maybe…maybe in a little while, you two can visit me.” Dean looked up at that, surprised. Adam shrugged, meeting his eyes briefly and then looking away. “When we’re all in a better state.”
“I’d like that,” Sam said. “When you’re ready.”
“Yeah, man,” Dean said uncomfortably. “Um, whenever you want.”
Adam managed a tiny smile before letting his head fall back against the back of the chair. He closed his eyes. It seemed like putting that many words together in a row had taken all his energy.
Sam and Dean took their cue and headed for the door.
“I’ll come for you in an hour to return you both to your realm,” Gilda said. They nodded their thanks and went to their separate rooms. Dean couldn’t decide if he was more relieved or more upset that Sam didn’t try to say anything to him.
His bag was packed in less than fifteen minutes. Dean set off into the castle again, looking for Barnabas. When he found him and told him they were heading home, Barnabas made distressed movements in the air.
“Oh,” he said sadly in his high voice. “I will miss you, my friend!”
“Miss you too, man,” Dean said. He coughed to clear the hoarseness from his voice. He actually was going to miss the little fucker quite a bit. He felt like he was leaving his only friend in the world, which was a bit of an overstatement even for him. Probably it was because Barnabas knew the truth about him and Sam.
“I am glad to see your aura has lightened to grey, though that still indicates distress,” Barnabas said. “Have you not spoken with your brother yet?”
Dean opened his mouth to tell the little fairy to mind his own beeswax, but instead he said, “I guess I will when we get home.”
Barnabas brightened, his light literally growing a little stronger. “Good! He is handsome and very large and his aura is full of love and concern for you. I think you fit each other well.”
Dean swallowed down another lump of emotion in his throat. “Thanks, man. For everything.”
Barnabas beamed and flew close to kiss his cheek. “It was good to meet you, Dean Winchester! Perhaps I will come visit you sometime, when you and your brother are happy together. And then we will all have sex with each other!” He flew away backwards, waving merrily. Dean grinned, deciding it would be more trouble than it was worth to argue.
***
Sam thanked Gilda for her help over and over after she dropped them off at the bunker. His eyes were huge, full of gratitude and sincerity. Dean realized again just how upset he must have been about Adam. Of course, there was also the mysterious talk Sam had said he’d had with her. Dean tried to put aside his deep discomfort with the fact that she definitely knew about them now, whether she and Sam had discussed it or not.
He watched Sam hug her. He gave her a hug himself, with a gruff “thank you.” It was far less than she deserved, but he hoped she’d get that he meant it. He thought she might; her eyes were bright and sympathetic as she squeezed his arm and wished him well. Dean felt a little bit of that healing energy thing she had flow into him. His shoulders relaxed a fraction. Gilda left them a talisman and a spell that would allow them to communicate with her or Adam if someone needed to get into contact.
She disappeared. The sudden silence was deafening. Sam glanced at Dean, then away.
“I’m going to go unpack,” he said.
“Yeah, okay,” Dean said, trying to force himself to sound normal. But he could tell his tone was strained.
He watched Sam disappear down the hallway. He glanced around the library. Everything looked the same, but nothing felt the same.
Dean clomped off to his own room and threw his duffel bag on his bed. He unzipped it, but found himself staring at the contents for about five minutes without unpacking anything. Finally he sat on his bed and gazed about the room. His chest ached as he thought about how much he liked this room; how he’d been daydreaming about fixing it up, getting things just the way he wanted them, and turning the bunker into not just a home base, but a home – someplace to come back to.
With Sam. He wanted it to be with Sam, of course. No place could possibly be home without Sam.
Dean swallowed hard and stood up. He walked down the hall to Sam’s room. The door was closed. Dean hesitated, then knocked resolutely.
For a second there was silence. Dean’s heart was in his throat. Finally he heard Sam say, “Come in.”
Dean opened the door and took a step inside, warily. Sam was at his dresser, back to Dean, folding a shirt. Those were his brooding shoulders again, damn it.
“Hey,” Dean said awkwardly.
“Hey,” Sam replied, not turning around.
“Man, we gotta talk or do something,” Dean burst out. “I don’t – I can’t – we can’t go on like this.”
Sam stopped folding and bowed his head. “I know,” he said, voice pained. “What do you want to do about it?”
“I – ” Dean stopped and bit his lip, making himself think about what he wanted to say. “Look, the last couple days have been some of the worst of my life.”
Sam finally faced him at that, his brow drawn with concern. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” he said. “I – listen, if…” He took a deep breath. “If it’s too much, then we can just…not talk about it. Just forget it.”
Dean blanched. “Is that what you want?”
Sam avoided his eyes. “It’s what I’m willing to do. If it means…” He shook his head slightly. “If it means not losing you.”
Dean took a step closer to him automatically. “Sammy, you’re not going to lose me,” he said incredulously. It had never occurred to him that Sam would worry about him leaving. “That’s not even a thing.”
Sam looked up, his eyes brimming. “Okay,” he said quietly. He sniffed and blinked rapidly. “Good. Thank you.” He turned away again, pulling another shirt out of his bag.
Dean grabbed Sam's arm, saw him flinch, and let him go quickly. “What do you actually want?” he asked.
Sam swallowed. “Don’t ask me that, Dean,” he said. “I don’t think you’ll like the answer.”
Dean’s heart felt like it might pop out of his chest. “I’m asking,” he said roughly.
Sam pressed his lips together for a moment, then nodded once. “In my ideal world, we’d be together,” he said bluntly. “Together together. I love you, Dean. I want – something more with you.” He sighed. “But I’m okay with things as they are. As long as you’re still in my life.”
He looked so fragile. Dean ached for him. All he wanted to do was touch Sam’s face and smooth away the pain.
So, after a second, he did. He stepped forward and cupped Sam’s chin in one hand, his other hand ghosting over Sam’s cheek and hair.
Sam inhaled sharply, half-closing his eyes and turning into Dean’s touch. “Dean?” he said tremulously.
“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean said soothingly, all his caretaker instincts coming to bear in the moment.
“Dean, you can’t do this just for me,” Sam said desperately. A tear fell from his eye. “I can’t let you do that.”
“It’s not,” Dean said hoarsely. “Sure, it’s because you need it that I can let it happen. I couldn’t have just for me, but…fuck, I want it too, Sam.”
Sam looked down at him, the vulnerability in his expression heartrending. “Are you sure?” he whispered.
Dean nodded fast. “I mean – look, it’s not always going to be easy. I still feel pretty fucked in the head about this, and I probably will sometimes for awhile. Maybe a long time.” He tried to smile. “Just so you know what you’re getting yourself into. I’ve got enough issues to rival National Geographic.”
Sam’s dimples showed. Dean felt a surge of triumph that he’d coaxed a smile out of his brother.
“But I want to try,” he continued. “I want to try and be good to you, Sammy.”
“You’re always good to me,” Sam murmured. He stepped in closer, their bodies nearly flush now. One of his hands settled on Dean’s hip, hot even through the fabric of Dean’s t-shirt.
Dean shook his head. “No, I know I totally fucked up the beginning of this,” he said. “That’s on me.”
“It’s on me, too,” Sam said quickly. “I shouldn’t’ve let it come out in the room with Wayne like that.” He winced. “I should’ve given you a head’s up. I thought maybe you wouldn’t have to know. I was so afraid you’d hate me for it.”
Dean shook his head emphatically. “Couldn’t ever hate you, Sammy,” he said. He tipped his face up towards Sam, exerting the slightest pressure on Sam’s neck. Sam responded slowly, inclining his head like he was trying to give Dean a chance to turn away.
Dean didn’t turn. When Sam’s lips met his, he felt a shock wave of sensation and emotion pass through him. It was like breathing; it was the most natural thing in the world. Sam’s lips parted, and Dean felt like he was drowning in something sweet and warm and he never, ever wanted it to stop.
It finally did, though. They were both breathing hard. Somewhere in the kiss they had pressed their bodies together at last and now Sam was clinging to him.
“So, you want to try this?” Dean asked, determined to be sure before this went any further. “Even though I’m probably going to be an idiot douche about it sometimes?”
Sam smiled. “Yeah,” he said fervently. “I want to. I want to.” He kissed Dean again, his fingers digging into Dean’s shoulder blades. Dean buried his hand in Sam’s hair, drinking in the soft feeling and the sound of Sam’s little gasps against his lips.
It felt like a dream as they undressed each other, but not in the hazy, out-of-body way it had seemed the other night. Dean was acutely aware of every inch of Sam’s skin against his; of the press of his mouth, the scratch of his stubble. He couldn’t stop looking at Sam’s eyes, bright and soft, or at his muscular body. He touched Sam everywhere and felt Sam relaxing by inches, somehow seeming peaceful even as he arched with pleasure when Dean hit the right spot.
Sam’s cock was ridiculously big for his mouth, but Dean wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. He felt like he was drunk on Sam’s moans of pleasure, the salty taste of him, the sound of Sam crying out his name. Practically the second he was done Sam was getting up. Idiot didn’t know how to relax in post-orgasm glow. Dean’d have to teach him about that. Sam pushed Dean down onto the bed, pinning Dean’s wrists for a moment when Dean tried to pull Sam down with him. Dean went limp automatically and thought he’d like to look into that further at some point.
Sam swallowing him down made every single thought fly out of Dean’s head. If he’d still had the capacity, he might’ve been embarrassed by the way he totally lost control, hips jerking till Sam had to hold him still, saying stupid shit over and over again. “Sammy, Sammy, oh my god, oh fuck, oh my fucking god,” over and over in an amazed voice that barely even sounded like his own. It didn’t help that Sam wouldn’t stop moaning. Dean didn’t even care that he came way faster than he usually did, except for how it meant that Sam stopped sucking him.
“Fucking fuck,” Dean muttered, when his head had stopped spinning and he’d regained the power of speech. He groped blindly for Sam and hauled him up to kiss him. They didn’t stop kissing for a long time. When they finally did, they ended up lying there together with their legs tangled up and Sam holding Dean so tight that Dean’s face was shoved into Sam’s chest. Sam's scent enveloped him, and even though he could barely breathe, he didn’t want to move an inch because it felt so good.
Dean thought about how this was really happening, and how they could do this kind of thing whenever they wanted to now. They could make out like teenagers and fuck in every room in the bunker if they felt like it, and in Baby, backseat or front – hell, Dean would probably climb in the trunk for it if Sam wanted him to – and in every goddamn motel room. It was unimaginable. Dean tried to come to terms with the fact that it was really true, but his brain gave him nothing but a row of question marks and a series of heart-eye emojis.
“Stop thinking,” Sam said softly, stroking his back. “I can feel you thinking too much.” He sounded a little worried. Dean chuckled, moving his head so Sam could actually hear him when he spoke.
“Yeah, but I’m happy,” he said, every bit of the surprise he was feeling audible in his voice.
Sam peeled back a little so he could scrutinize Dean’s face. “Really?” he said.
“Yeah,” Dean replied, still feeling astonished. “I – I think this might actually work.” He could feel a big, dopey grin spreading across his face and didn’t even try to hide it. What the fuck was the point?
Sam’s answering smile was dazzling. His lips on Dean’s felt like coming home.
Part Three
***
Dean woke up with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d had nightmares all night. He couldn’t remember any details, but he knew Oberon had been in them, and Sam, and Oberon-as-Sam.
Guilt and horror flooded his mind as he thought about what had happened the previous evening. How could he have let himself do that to Sam? He should never have touched him. And he couldn’t ever do it again; how could he? Sam was his brother. And Dean had ruined everything. What if Sam couldn’t take it and left him again?
Dean’s heart was racing and he felt so nauseous he was afraid he might throw up. Sam had rolled away from him in the night, thank fucking god. Dean slipped out of the bed and started throwing on his clothes as quickly and quietly as he could. He didn’t put his shoes on, and as he stared down as them in his hands, he remembered saying, shoes.
Sam had been trying to give him an out right before that. Sam had given him so many opportunities to say no. Fuck, maybe Sam hadn’t even wanted to – do what they’d done. Maybe he’d been doing it because he thought that was what Dean wanted.
Dean shivered, sickening dread gnawing at his insides. Couldn’t he get anything right? All he’d ever tried to do was take care of Sammy, and now he’d done something so twisted and wrong…Sam might never forgive him, when he woke up and remembered what had happened.
Dean wanted to sprint for the door, but he made himself pad quietly towards it. He turned the handle slowly and carefully, but it clicked, the sound loud in the hushed room. Dean heard Sam stir.
“Dean?” Sam said, voice heavy with sleep.
“Go back to sleep, Sammy,” Dean said, fighting to keep his voice normal. He didn’t turn around. He couldn’t look at Sam right now.
“Dean, where are you going?” Sam asked, sounding so worried that Dean almost turned around. But he couldn’t make himself. He heard the sheets rustling – Sam must be getting up – and Dean opened the door.
“Dean, wait,” Sam said, a frantic edge to his voice. Dean swallowed hard, really afraid he was going to throw up now. He stepped into the hallway, but Sam was just a step behind him.
“Dean – “
The door opposite Sam’s opened and Adam stepped out. Dean stared at him. Adam stared back, his eyes flicking back and forth between Dean and Sam.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Dean burst out. He risked a glance at Sam. Sam, thankfully, had pulled on boxer briefs, but his face was a mask of horror. Dean’s stomach dropped. Just like he’d thought – Sam was totally freaked out by what had happened, too.
Dean looked back at Adam, whose face was ashen. “You – you two are – “ Adam stuttered.
“No, no, man, it’s nothing, it’s nothing,” Dean babbled. Dimly, he was aware that he couldn’t possibly be helping their case with this reaction.
Adam looked at him, then at Sam again. “Lucifer used to tell me you were in love with your brother,” he said hollowly. “He said that was what I come from. A family of twisted perverts – “
“Lucifer lies with the truth,” Sam said. He sounded angry now. “We’re not monsters.”
Adam shook his head and backed up into Gilda’s room, head still shaking like he couldn’t stop. The door slammed shut.
“Fuck!” Sam shouted, hitting the doorframe with his fist. Dean stared at him for a frozen moment. When Sam looked up at him, the anger drained away. He took a step forward.
“Dean, I – ”
Dean stumbled back, suddenly terrified to have Sam touch him or even look at him.
“I gotta shower,” he managed to get out. He fled into his room, shutting the door fast behind him. He leaned against it, breathing hard, wondering if Sam was going to start pounding on it, demanding to be let in. He wasn’t sure what he would do if Sam tried it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Sam to do it or not.
After a moment, he heard Sam’s door close.
Dean’s vision blurred, his eyes burning with tears. He tried to blink them away, tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, but a choked sob escaped him. He walked slowly to the bathroom, stripping his clothes off again as he did. He stepped into the shower, wishing he knew how to set it very hot. To his surprise and relief, it was much hotter than last time, seemingly responding to his unvoiced thought. Dean stood under the water and cried until he ran out of tears.
***
After he’d gotten out of the shower and dressed, Dean wandered out of his room in a haze. He stared at Gilda’s closed door, then Sam’s. He turned and headed down the hall. He walked through the castle until he found a back exit Barnabas had shown him the other day. It led to a lush garden in full bloom. Dean went through the opening in some tall hedges which would provide at least a little privacy. In the middle of the hedged-in expanse of lawn and flowerbeds was a burbling fountain. The statue in the middle was a huge, monstrous creature with a dozen tentacles which Dean found unsettling even though he usually had kind of a thing for tentacle monsters. He avoided looking at it, focusing on the soothing sound of the water instead.
Wishing he could go for a drive, Dean sprawled on the grass in the morning sun and flung an arm over his eyes. The air felt warm and mild, but not overly hot. He wondered what season it was in the fairy realm. He couldn’t really remember what season it was in the human world, either.
The human world, where he lived with Sam, in Baby and in motel rooms and maybe in the bunker now. Or used to, anyway. Dean wrenched his thoughts away from that and tried not to think about anything at all. He really should find some alcohol, but he didn’t want to move. He felt numb and far away from himself.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there when he heard the sound of softly ringing bells.
“Dean? What’s wrong?” asked a tiny voice. It sounded very worried.
“Nothing, Barnabas,” Dean said.
“But your aura is black,” Barnabas said. “You must be very upset!”
“Leave me alone,” Dean mumbled. After a beat, he felt a small weight land on his sternum. He considered waving the fairy away, but he didn’t even think he could make himself move his arm right now.
He felt Barnabas’ light steps walking up his chest. Something sharp jabbed him under the chin. Dean’s eyes flew open and he started up so he was leaning on one elbow.
“Ow! Dude, what the hell?” Dean demanded. He wiped his chin and found a spot of blood on his finger. He glared at Barnabas, who was holding his rapier.
Barnabas glared right back at him. “You are being very foolish!” he trilled. “How can you expect to go on if you won’t take help when it is offered to you?”
The rush of surprise and annoyance which had animated Dean was already fading. He flopped back onto the ground. “There’s nothing you can do to help,” he said. “There’s nothing anyone can do.”
Barnabas flew next to his ear and pinched it severely.
“Fuckin’ stop that!” Dean said, managing to wave a shooing hand at the fairy this time. Barnabas dodged him easily. He hovered in front of Dean’s face.
“You are wallowing,” he informed Dean. “It’s very unattractive, even on you. Have you had breakfast today?”
“I’m not hungry,” Dean said. It was a lie. He was hungry, he just didn't want to eat.
Even after just a couple days, Barnabas had evidently gotten sufficiently acquainted with Dean’s appetite to look more worried at this. He flew back and forth a couple inches in consternation.
“You are probably too sad to know that you are hungry,” he declared. “I will bring you food and then you will realize it.”
“Barnabas – ” Dean started. He really wasn’t in the mood to try and force food down.
“You see?” Barnabas said brightly. “There is something I can do!” He zoomed away. Dean sighed and shut his eyes again. Maybe it was just as well that Barnabas was insisting on trying to help. At least it was a distraction from the ugly thoughts rattling around in his head.
Ten minutes later, Dean made himself sit up when he heard the tinkling bells which signaled Barnabas’ return. He saw a loaded tray floating towards him as if it were moving of its own volition. Dean blinked, wondering if it was fairy magic. He glanced around for Barnabas, but quickly realized that the tiny fairy was carrying the tray. It made him smile, just a little bit. He reached out to take it off his friend’s hands.
As Dean set the tray on the ground, Barnabas flew up till he was level with Dean’s face again. “I hope I brought enough,” he said anxiously.
Dean raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the food. “Yeah, I think you brought enough for a small army,” he said. There were plates piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns, one plate full of what looked like half a loaf’s worth of toast, another with six different pastries, and assorted little pots with butter, jams, and jellies. Best of all, there was a huge mug of steaming black coffee. Dean grabbed it immediately and added some cream – he often had it black, but he wasn’t sure if his stomach could take that today. He wrapped his hands around the mug, relishing the slight burn, and sipped it gratefully.
Barnabas watched Dean swallow coffee for a couple minutes before bouncing in the air. Even the bells which accompanied the movement managed to sound impatient.
“Food,” he said insistently. “You must eat, my friend!”
“Gimme a minute,” Dean muttered. Barnabas flew down to the tray, picked up the knife, and started buttering a piece of toast. Though his strength was more than equal to the task, the difference in scale obviously made it laborious.
“All right, all right,” Dean said irritably. He put down the coffee and took the knife from Barnabas. When the toast was buttered, he made himself nibble at it as he drank the coffee.
Evidently this wasn’t good enough. A few minutes later, as he was staring off at nothing in particular, a piece of bacon floated into Dean’s field of vision. Barnabas flew it at him, pointing towards Dean’s mouth.
“Open wide!” he shouted enthusiastically.
“Dude!” Dean grabbed the bacon. “You don’t have to feed me like I’m an infant.”
“Apparently, I do!” Barnabas looked pointedly at the buttered triangle of toast on the tray, only half-eaten. Dean rolled his eyes and took a bite of the bacon. It was amazing, of course. The food in the fairy realm was really something, and it stayed hot no matter how long it had been sitting out. Still, Dean didn’t really want it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware that he should be alarmed to find himself uninterested in great bacon. But he couldn’t seem to care.
Barnabas kept hovering near Dean’s face until Dean had eaten two pieces of bacon and a whole slice of toast. Finally, the fairy sat down on the edge of the tray with an air of triumph. He began pulling off and consuming handfuls of croissant, the pastry nearest to him. Dean settled back on one elbow again and worked on his coffee. He felt somehow better and worse at the same time. He was a little more grounded, his head clearer. But the haze he’d been in before had been somewhat easier to deal with. Now, it was hard to avoid the harsh realities staring him in the face.
“Did you fight more with your brother?” Barnabas asked suddenly. Dean’s stomach lurched and he swallowed hard as the food and coffee in his stomach threatened to exit it very quickly.
“No,” he said, when he could speak without fear of throwing up. “Not exactly.” He could hear the anguished tones of his own voice. He shut his eyes and rubbed his temples, hoping fervently that Barnabas would take the hint.
But that hardly seemed to be the little fairy’s style. “What do you mean?” he asked curiously. “You can talk to me!”
Dean’s eyes blurred at Barnabas’ guileless sympathy. Suddenly, he just wanted to tell him. What did it matter, anyway? Barnabas was something like a friend, but not one he was likely to keep in touch with. Who cared what he thought?
In another corner of his mind, Dean thought that it would actually hurt quite a bit to see this simple, kind, weird little creature turn from him in disgust. With an ugly feeling in his chest, Dean knew that just made him want to tell him more. Barnabas should be disgusted. He should abandon him. It was what Dean deserved.
He made himself say it.
“Me and Sam had sex last night.” His own voice, shaping those words, sounded so wrong.
Barnabas was silent for a long moment. Dean kept his eyes on the grass, not wanting to see Barnabas’ face grow cold.
There was a tinkle of bells, and Barnabas flew into Dean’s sightline. He looked faintly puzzled.
“Is that all?” he asked.
Dean blinked at him. “Sam is my brother,” he reminded the fairy. He’d found that Barnabas could be quite forgetful.
Barnabas gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “I know who Sam is,” he said in a tone of withering scorn. “So what?”
Dean shook his head slightly in an attempt to clear it. “So – so he’s my brother! I had sex with my own brother.” Barnabas was still staring at him blankly. “Dude, that’s incest! It’s – it’s sick! I’m a freaking monster!”
Barnabas’ expression cleared. “Oh!” he said. “I’d forgotten about you humans and your incest taboo. We don’t have that here.” He smiled cheekily. “It’s considered a little bit naughty, you know, but all well and good amongst consenting partners! I’ve had sex with a couple dozen of my siblings. It’s fun.”
Dean tried to process this. “But like – dude, what if one of the girls gets pregnant? You could have mutant babies.”
Barnabas waved dismissively. “She just chooses not to get pregnant! If she does and wants to keep the baby, magic will make sure nothing is off.”
After his time among fairies, Dean wondered if anyone would be able to tell if a fairy was ‘off,’ but decided not to ask.
“But I recall now that humans have imperfect birth control, and a dearth of magic.” Barnabas peered into Dean’s face. “Is that the problem? Are you or your brother afraid of getting pregnant?”
Dean blinked at him. “What – no! Jesus, can male fairies get pregnant?!”
“They can if they have a uterus,” Barnabas said. “All right, so pregnancy is not a fear. Why can’t you have sex with your brother?”
Dean’s jaw dropped open. “He’s my brother!” he said. “Look, maybe it’s not a big thing for fairies, but among humans, it’s just fucking wrong.”
“Why?”
“Just – just – it is!” Dean spluttered. “It just is, okay? That’s the deal. It’s sick and wrong and that’s how it is.”
Barnabas shrugged. “Okay, but that seems very silly to me. You said you and your brother have only each other, or near enough. You obviously love him. I’m sure he must love you, because you are wonderful.” He beamed at Dean. “So, your love has taken a new form! This should be celebrated, not mourned.”
Dean’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He tried to think of what to say. After a moment, Barnabas flew forward, put his hands under Dean’s chin, and gently shut his jaw. Dean felt him press a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Why don’t you talk to him?” Barnabas said. “You are so sad. He is probably sad, too, and misses you.” Dean closed his eyes and shook his head.
“I can’t,” he said hollowly. “You don’t understand, man. It’s not that simple for us.”
Barnabas hummed sympathetically. “Well, then I will wait with you until you are ready.”
Dean sighed and lay back on the grass again, head in his clasped hands. Barnabas settled on his chest. You might be waiting a long freaking time, dude, Dean thought.
***
Memories of last night and Barnabas’ words swirled around in Dean’s head. Despite his churning mind, the warm sun did its work and he eventually fell into a miserable doze. He woke up with a jolt awhile later, hearing Sam calling his name. He sat up, blinking blearily.
“That’s him, isn’t it?” Barnabas said. “I’ll get him!”
“Don’t talk to him about what I told you!” Dean called after him, sick with fear that Barnabas was about to offer Sam some well-intentioned and deeply inappropriate advice about sleeping with your own siblings.
A moment later Barnabas reappeared, holding Sam’s index finger and pulling Sam along after him. Dean looked up at Sam, his heart in his throat. Sam looked haggard, even worse than he had for most of this trip.
“Dean, I was looking everywhere for you,” Sam said. Dean looked at the ground.
“I just needed some time,” he mumbled.
“Come on. We have to go find Gilda and talk to Wayne.”
Dean looked up at him again. “What’s wrong? Is it Adam?”
Sam stared at him like he was nuts for a moment, and then shook his head. “No, Dean, you! The sanctuary will be up in a few hours. We have to figure out this whole service thing.”
“Oh. Right, that.” Dean had completely forgotten about his Oberon problems. He got up, rising more quickly that he had expected to. He realized it was because Barnabas was pulling on his shirt to help him.
“Okay,” Dean said. “Let’s find Gilda.”
***
They were silent on the way back to their rooms. Dean wanted to say something, but his brain felt slow and empty. He could barely look at Sam.
Sam raised his fist to knock on Gilda’s door, but before he could, it swung open. Wayne stood before them.
“Oh, Winchesters,” he said, oozing pleasantness. “I was just coming to let you know your service to Oberon is all taken care of. I assume you’ll be heading home soon, now that you’ve gotten what you came for.”
“What?” Sam said blankly.
“How?” Dean asked at the same time, deeply suspicious.
Wayne waved a hand. “You’ve given him something in return. I’m sure your friend and your brother will tell you all about it.” He smirked. “I hope your stay in my home has been a pleasant one. Let me know if you ever want to do business again. You give good secret. My buyer was very pleased.”
“Hang on – ” Dean said, but Wayne brushed past them, and Dean found himself somehow unable to stop him. Wayne walked off down the hall, whistling merrily.
“Gilda, what happened?” Sam asked, looking into her room. She was standing a few feet inside and had watched the exchange.
“Come in,” Gilda said. “Let us explain.” Sam and Dean stepped into the room, pausing when they saw Adam. He was sitting in an armchair – Gilda’s room was equipped with a couple of armchairs and a small sofa around a low table.
Adam was wrapped in a quilt. He looked pale but composed. “It’s all right,” he said. “You can come in.”
They entered slowly. Sam sat down on the sofa. Dean dithered for a beat about whether to sit next to him or in the armchair – both seemed like equally bad ideas – and finally decided to just remain standing.
Gilda stood next to him and put a hand on the small of his back. Dean startled and looked down at her. She smiled kindly at him. Her hand was warm and Dean could feel himself relaxing marginally. The fog of pain that had been clouding his mind all day eased off a little. He remembered how Adam had reacted to her healing magic and decided to just let her do it if she wanted to. God knew he could use it.
“We traded with Oberon in exchange for your service,” Gilda started.
“What?” Sam asked immediately.
“Me,” Adam said.
Dean could feel his heartrate shoot up. “What?! No, no fucking way! Get Wayne back here, tell him fuck no.” He glared at Gilda. “How could you let this happen? And get off me!” His body jerked, throwing her hand from his back.
“Please,” Gilda said in soothing tones. “Let me explain.”
“I don’t know how you could possibly explain this in a way that makes it okay,” Dean spat. “No one is taking a bullet for me, especially not the guy who just got out of Hell!”
“Dean, calm down,” Sam said. “Let her talk.” His eyes were beseeching. He jerked his head minutely towards Adam. Dean looked at their half-brother; Adam’s eyes were wide and he had drawn the quilt closer around himself. He was shaking.
Dean took a breath and nodded. “Okay, okay,” he said, more quietly this time. “Sorry.”
“We traded your service for Adam’s,” Gilda began.
“That’s not an option,” Dean said, forcing himself to keep his voice calm.
“That is not the end of the story,” Gilda said patiently. “Do not think I would let someone in such need of healing and rest be forced into servitude.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Sam said quietly. “What’s the rest?”
“Oberon agreed to the trade because though Adam is not your father’s first-born son, he is his mother’s, and fairies trace ancestry through the matrilineal line,” Gilda explained. “We agreed to make the trade because Oberon accepted my family’s offer to buy Adam’s service. With us, he will be servant in name only. He will be able to rest in our home, and I will be able to continue helping him to heal.”
“That’s how Gilda thought of it,” Adam said. “I said I didn’t want to leave her and she realized we could solve your problem if I stayed in the fairy realm, if Oberon would agree.” He smiled tiredly. “She’s very clever.”
“I don’t know,” Dean said immediately. “This seems like it has the potential to backfire somehow.” He grimaced. “Shit tends to backfire for us.”
“I’m willing to take the risk,” Adam said firmly. “You two got me out of the Cage. Let me repay the favor.”
“If you’re sure it’s what you want,” Sam said quietly. His expression was sad. Adam looked at him for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you want to help. But – and it’s not your fault – you still look like Lucifer to me. Even though I know you’re nothing like him. I can’t be around you all the time. Not yet.”
“I get it,” Sam said, his voice almost inaudible.
“And…” Adam hesitated. “It seems like you two have, um…stuff of your own to deal with.”
Dean could feel his face getting hot. He clenched his jaw and stared at the floor so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with anybody in the room.
“I can’t say I really get it,” Adam continued. “But Gilda had kind of a different perspective on…your sort of situation. It’s given me a lot to think about.”
Dean rubbed his temples, trying not to completely freak out that Gilda knew. She didn’t seem to be repulsed, anyway. She probably had the same weird views on it that Barnabas did.
“So maybe…maybe in a little while, you two can visit me.” Dean looked up at that, surprised. Adam shrugged, meeting his eyes briefly and then looking away. “When we’re all in a better state.”
“I’d like that,” Sam said. “When you’re ready.”
“Yeah, man,” Dean said uncomfortably. “Um, whenever you want.”
Adam managed a tiny smile before letting his head fall back against the back of the chair. He closed his eyes. It seemed like putting that many words together in a row had taken all his energy.
Sam and Dean took their cue and headed for the door.
“I’ll come for you in an hour to return you both to your realm,” Gilda said. They nodded their thanks and went to their separate rooms. Dean couldn’t decide if he was more relieved or more upset that Sam didn’t try to say anything to him.
His bag was packed in less than fifteen minutes. Dean set off into the castle again, looking for Barnabas. When he found him and told him they were heading home, Barnabas made distressed movements in the air.
“Oh,” he said sadly in his high voice. “I will miss you, my friend!”
“Miss you too, man,” Dean said. He coughed to clear the hoarseness from his voice. He actually was going to miss the little fucker quite a bit. He felt like he was leaving his only friend in the world, which was a bit of an overstatement even for him. Probably it was because Barnabas knew the truth about him and Sam.
“I am glad to see your aura has lightened to grey, though that still indicates distress,” Barnabas said. “Have you not spoken with your brother yet?”
Dean opened his mouth to tell the little fairy to mind his own beeswax, but instead he said, “I guess I will when we get home.”
Barnabas brightened, his light literally growing a little stronger. “Good! He is handsome and very large and his aura is full of love and concern for you. I think you fit each other well.”
Dean swallowed down another lump of emotion in his throat. “Thanks, man. For everything.”
Barnabas beamed and flew close to kiss his cheek. “It was good to meet you, Dean Winchester! Perhaps I will come visit you sometime, when you and your brother are happy together. And then we will all have sex with each other!” He flew away backwards, waving merrily. Dean grinned, deciding it would be more trouble than it was worth to argue.
***
Sam thanked Gilda for her help over and over after she dropped them off at the bunker. His eyes were huge, full of gratitude and sincerity. Dean realized again just how upset he must have been about Adam. Of course, there was also the mysterious talk Sam had said he’d had with her. Dean tried to put aside his deep discomfort with the fact that she definitely knew about them now, whether she and Sam had discussed it or not.
He watched Sam hug her. He gave her a hug himself, with a gruff “thank you.” It was far less than she deserved, but he hoped she’d get that he meant it. He thought she might; her eyes were bright and sympathetic as she squeezed his arm and wished him well. Dean felt a little bit of that healing energy thing she had flow into him. His shoulders relaxed a fraction. Gilda left them a talisman and a spell that would allow them to communicate with her or Adam if someone needed to get into contact.
She disappeared. The sudden silence was deafening. Sam glanced at Dean, then away.
“I’m going to go unpack,” he said.
“Yeah, okay,” Dean said, trying to force himself to sound normal. But he could tell his tone was strained.
He watched Sam disappear down the hallway. He glanced around the library. Everything looked the same, but nothing felt the same.
Dean clomped off to his own room and threw his duffel bag on his bed. He unzipped it, but found himself staring at the contents for about five minutes without unpacking anything. Finally he sat on his bed and gazed about the room. His chest ached as he thought about how much he liked this room; how he’d been daydreaming about fixing it up, getting things just the way he wanted them, and turning the bunker into not just a home base, but a home – someplace to come back to.
With Sam. He wanted it to be with Sam, of course. No place could possibly be home without Sam.
Dean swallowed hard and stood up. He walked down the hall to Sam’s room. The door was closed. Dean hesitated, then knocked resolutely.
For a second there was silence. Dean’s heart was in his throat. Finally he heard Sam say, “Come in.”
Dean opened the door and took a step inside, warily. Sam was at his dresser, back to Dean, folding a shirt. Those were his brooding shoulders again, damn it.
“Hey,” Dean said awkwardly.
“Hey,” Sam replied, not turning around.
“Man, we gotta talk or do something,” Dean burst out. “I don’t – I can’t – we can’t go on like this.”
Sam stopped folding and bowed his head. “I know,” he said, voice pained. “What do you want to do about it?”
“I – ” Dean stopped and bit his lip, making himself think about what he wanted to say. “Look, the last couple days have been some of the worst of my life.”
Sam finally faced him at that, his brow drawn with concern. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” he said. “I – listen, if…” He took a deep breath. “If it’s too much, then we can just…not talk about it. Just forget it.”
Dean blanched. “Is that what you want?”
Sam avoided his eyes. “It’s what I’m willing to do. If it means…” He shook his head slightly. “If it means not losing you.”
Dean took a step closer to him automatically. “Sammy, you’re not going to lose me,” he said incredulously. It had never occurred to him that Sam would worry about him leaving. “That’s not even a thing.”
Sam looked up, his eyes brimming. “Okay,” he said quietly. He sniffed and blinked rapidly. “Good. Thank you.” He turned away again, pulling another shirt out of his bag.
Dean grabbed Sam's arm, saw him flinch, and let him go quickly. “What do you actually want?” he asked.
Sam swallowed. “Don’t ask me that, Dean,” he said. “I don’t think you’ll like the answer.”
Dean’s heart felt like it might pop out of his chest. “I’m asking,” he said roughly.
Sam pressed his lips together for a moment, then nodded once. “In my ideal world, we’d be together,” he said bluntly. “Together together. I love you, Dean. I want – something more with you.” He sighed. “But I’m okay with things as they are. As long as you’re still in my life.”
He looked so fragile. Dean ached for him. All he wanted to do was touch Sam’s face and smooth away the pain.
So, after a second, he did. He stepped forward and cupped Sam’s chin in one hand, his other hand ghosting over Sam’s cheek and hair.
Sam inhaled sharply, half-closing his eyes and turning into Dean’s touch. “Dean?” he said tremulously.
“It’s okay, Sammy,” Dean said soothingly, all his caretaker instincts coming to bear in the moment.
“Dean, you can’t do this just for me,” Sam said desperately. A tear fell from his eye. “I can’t let you do that.”
“It’s not,” Dean said hoarsely. “Sure, it’s because you need it that I can let it happen. I couldn’t have just for me, but…fuck, I want it too, Sam.”
Sam looked down at him, the vulnerability in his expression heartrending. “Are you sure?” he whispered.
Dean nodded fast. “I mean – look, it’s not always going to be easy. I still feel pretty fucked in the head about this, and I probably will sometimes for awhile. Maybe a long time.” He tried to smile. “Just so you know what you’re getting yourself into. I’ve got enough issues to rival National Geographic.”
Sam’s dimples showed. Dean felt a surge of triumph that he’d coaxed a smile out of his brother.
“But I want to try,” he continued. “I want to try and be good to you, Sammy.”
“You’re always good to me,” Sam murmured. He stepped in closer, their bodies nearly flush now. One of his hands settled on Dean’s hip, hot even through the fabric of Dean’s t-shirt.
Dean shook his head. “No, I know I totally fucked up the beginning of this,” he said. “That’s on me.”
“It’s on me, too,” Sam said quickly. “I shouldn’t’ve let it come out in the room with Wayne like that.” He winced. “I should’ve given you a head’s up. I thought maybe you wouldn’t have to know. I was so afraid you’d hate me for it.”
Dean shook his head emphatically. “Couldn’t ever hate you, Sammy,” he said. He tipped his face up towards Sam, exerting the slightest pressure on Sam’s neck. Sam responded slowly, inclining his head like he was trying to give Dean a chance to turn away.
Dean didn’t turn. When Sam’s lips met his, he felt a shock wave of sensation and emotion pass through him. It was like breathing; it was the most natural thing in the world. Sam’s lips parted, and Dean felt like he was drowning in something sweet and warm and he never, ever wanted it to stop.
It finally did, though. They were both breathing hard. Somewhere in the kiss they had pressed their bodies together at last and now Sam was clinging to him.
“So, you want to try this?” Dean asked, determined to be sure before this went any further. “Even though I’m probably going to be an idiot douche about it sometimes?”
Sam smiled. “Yeah,” he said fervently. “I want to. I want to.” He kissed Dean again, his fingers digging into Dean’s shoulder blades. Dean buried his hand in Sam’s hair, drinking in the soft feeling and the sound of Sam’s little gasps against his lips.
It felt like a dream as they undressed each other, but not in the hazy, out-of-body way it had seemed the other night. Dean was acutely aware of every inch of Sam’s skin against his; of the press of his mouth, the scratch of his stubble. He couldn’t stop looking at Sam’s eyes, bright and soft, or at his muscular body. He touched Sam everywhere and felt Sam relaxing by inches, somehow seeming peaceful even as he arched with pleasure when Dean hit the right spot.
Sam’s cock was ridiculously big for his mouth, but Dean wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. He felt like he was drunk on Sam’s moans of pleasure, the salty taste of him, the sound of Sam crying out his name. Practically the second he was done Sam was getting up. Idiot didn’t know how to relax in post-orgasm glow. Dean’d have to teach him about that. Sam pushed Dean down onto the bed, pinning Dean’s wrists for a moment when Dean tried to pull Sam down with him. Dean went limp automatically and thought he’d like to look into that further at some point.
Sam swallowing him down made every single thought fly out of Dean’s head. If he’d still had the capacity, he might’ve been embarrassed by the way he totally lost control, hips jerking till Sam had to hold him still, saying stupid shit over and over again. “Sammy, Sammy, oh my god, oh fuck, oh my fucking god,” over and over in an amazed voice that barely even sounded like his own. It didn’t help that Sam wouldn’t stop moaning. Dean didn’t even care that he came way faster than he usually did, except for how it meant that Sam stopped sucking him.
“Fucking fuck,” Dean muttered, when his head had stopped spinning and he’d regained the power of speech. He groped blindly for Sam and hauled him up to kiss him. They didn’t stop kissing for a long time. When they finally did, they ended up lying there together with their legs tangled up and Sam holding Dean so tight that Dean’s face was shoved into Sam’s chest. Sam's scent enveloped him, and even though he could barely breathe, he didn’t want to move an inch because it felt so good.
Dean thought about how this was really happening, and how they could do this kind of thing whenever they wanted to now. They could make out like teenagers and fuck in every room in the bunker if they felt like it, and in Baby, backseat or front – hell, Dean would probably climb in the trunk for it if Sam wanted him to – and in every goddamn motel room. It was unimaginable. Dean tried to come to terms with the fact that it was really true, but his brain gave him nothing but a row of question marks and a series of heart-eye emojis.
“Stop thinking,” Sam said softly, stroking his back. “I can feel you thinking too much.” He sounded a little worried. Dean chuckled, moving his head so Sam could actually hear him when he spoke.
“Yeah, but I’m happy,” he said, every bit of the surprise he was feeling audible in his voice.
Sam peeled back a little so he could scrutinize Dean’s face. “Really?” he said.
“Yeah,” Dean replied, still feeling astonished. “I – I think this might actually work.” He could feel a big, dopey grin spreading across his face and didn’t even try to hide it. What the fuck was the point?
Sam’s answering smile was dazzling. His lips on Dean’s felt like coming home.
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Date: 2019-06-29 06:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-06-29 09:44 pm (UTC)Thank you for commenting! <3
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Date: 2019-07-19 09:02 pm (UTC)Barnabas was great. Dean’s little friend, and of course, he wanted to have sex with Dean and Sam. Heh!
Lovely story!
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Date: 2019-07-20 05:33 pm (UTC)Thank you for commenting! <333