Work Text:
EVERY DARKNESS HAS ITS DAWN
By Shorts
Despite the stuffy warmth of the bar, he felt cold. Leaning forward, he absently tapped his finger on the beer bottle, wondering how many he would have to drink before the hollow, empty feeling eased its grip on him. Then again, he wasn't sure he wanted to feel too much either.
It had been a routine hunt, well, as routine as such things can be anyhow. They had tracked down the living corpse to the lake and had it cornered. The next moment was forever imprinted in his memory, seeing his brother charged and knocked under the water beneath it. He couldn't shoot. The risk had been too high on hitting the wrong target in the thrashing water.
He had screamed in rage and terror, water splashing around him as he forced the creature to release its hold and shoved it away. Barely taking aim, he fired, destroying it where it stood. Treading the cold water, fear raced through him when the surface remained unbroken and he dove into its dark, murky depths.
The mixture of relief and anguish had filled him as his questing fingers brushed cloth. He had yanked hard, bringing them both up to the surface. Gasping, he sucked in air as he struggled with the dead weight in his arms.
"Breathe, damn it!" His words had shattered the silence, but they hadn't stirred life into the only person he cherished.
Sighing deeply, he closed his eyes against the pain of that image and drained the rest of his beer. Last call had been ten minutes ago and he wished the night was closer to being over. He carefully set the empty bottle beside its companions and slumped back in the hard back chair.
A hand descended on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "Wondered where you had taken off to."
Dean tilted his head back and looked up at Sam. "Been right here."
"So I see." Sam's eyes glanced over the empty beer bottles on the table. "C'mon. It's late and they're closing up."
Dean pushed himself to his feet and stood, the alcohol making his head spin and a strong arm encircled his waist, steadying him. They made their way out of the bar and Sam bundled him into the passenger seat.
"What happened to you?" asked Sam, as he drove. "I get out of the shower and you were gone." He had started walking until he spotted the Impala parked in front of the bar. The third bar since leaving the motel.
"Just went to have a beer," mumbled Dean, resting his head back against the car seat.
"Uh huh," said Sam. "You're still in those damp clothes and you smell like pond scum." He pulled into their motel and helped Dean up the narrow stairs to their room.
Dean shrugged out of his coat and dropped it on the floor. Pulling off his shirt, he headed for the bathroom, not quite steady on his feet.
Frowning, Sam picked up the trail of scattered clothes, dumping them into the bag with their dirty laundry. The sound of the shower filled the silence in the room. They knew the risks, but you never thought it could happen. He knew his brother was rattled, hell, he was rattled, considering it happened to him. This time had been more than a close shave.
Bracing himself against the slick tile, Dean stood with his head lowered as the spray of water cascaded over him. Closing his eyes, the image of Sam limp on the ground came forth with utmost clarity and he shuddered.
Twenty minutes had passed when Sam knocked on the bathroom door. "Dean?" Silence his only answer. Turning the handle, he peered inside. "You didn't pass out in there, or something, did you?" Stepping into the small bathroom, he reached out and moved the shower curtain to check on his brother.
Sitting down on the bottom of the tub, Dean had his arms tightly wrapped around his bent legs and his face buried on his knees.
Yanking the curtain all the way open, Sam quickly turned off the water and knelt beside the tub. "It's okay." He ran his fingers through Dean's wet hair, urging him to look at him.
Lifting his head, Dean blinked against the tears blurring his vision. "It's not worth it." Taking a deep breath, he shook his head before once again hiding his anguish behind his knees.
Grabbing a towel, Sam wrapped it around Dean's shoulders and physically hauled him to his feet. Working quickly, he dried him off as best he could while Dean kept his balance with a firm hold on his shoulder. Supporting him, Sam tried to maneuver them out of the bathroom, but Dean stumbled, knocking them both into the door jamb. Reaching the bed, they both fell back, bouncing on the mattress.
Releasing a deep sigh, Sam sat up and looked over. Dean was sprawled where he had landed and staring up at the ceiling. "You've got to let it go, man. It wasn't your fault, besides, I'm fine."
Biting his lower lip, Dean struggled to sit up. "Dude, you weren't breathing."
"Yeah, but you were there. Because of you, I didn't die," said Sam, ducking his head to catch Dean's eyes. "We've had close calls before and we've always come through. A little worse for wear, but alive, just like now."
"But what about the next time?" asked Dean, sitting up straighter and looking hard at him.
"If we start borrowing trouble, it's going to find us," said Sam. "We need to put this to rest and sleep will help."
Dean started to argue, but found himself being manhandled by Sam under the covers. The beers he had hadn't numbed the fear he felt, they only made it easier for Sam to manipulate him into doing what he wanted.
"Are you going to be able to sleep?" asked Sam, concerned that Dean was still reliving his near drowning.
"I'll be fine," ground out Dean, pissed off that Sam was taking care of him, when it should be the other way around.
The surly answer was what Sam had hoped for. It meant that Dean would soon have his bearings again, and be back to his sarcastic, infuriating self. Checking the door and turning out the light, he crawled into the other bed.
"Sam?"
"Yeah?" Sam had expected Dean to fall immediately to sleep, especially with the alcohol he had consumed. He waited, but Dean didn't say anything else. "Are you feeling sick?"
A moment passed before Dean answered. "No." How could he explain that a darkness so black he could hardly breathe was closing in on him?
"Okay." Sam waited, but Dean remained silent. Knowing Dean was just lying there, staring up at the ceiling prevented him from going to sleep himself. Sitting up, he sat on the edge of his bed, facing Dean. "Talk to me."
Dean shrugged, obviously struggling with whatever he wanted to say.
Studying his brother's obvious distress, Sam shifted to sit next to Dean. Usually it was Dean trying to make things better for him, because for the most part, Dean rarely showed how he felt when he was truly upset. "Scoot over."
"I'm not freakin' six, Sam," protested Dean.
"Obviously," said Sam, lifting the sheet and climbing beneath it.
Although he meant to protest further, Dean moved to give Sam room to lie down beside him.
Adjusting covers and pillows, they finally settled down with Sam spooning behind Dean. Absently, he rubbed his hand in circles over Dean's stomach, meaning to relay comfort, but instead he sensed Dean's breathing pattern change.
Pressing his lips tightly together, Dean tried to ignore the reaction Sam's hand was having on him. When it wasn't getting any better, but worse, he quickly grabbed Sam's hand stilling it.
"Beers getting to you?" asked Sam, unable to hide the grin in his voice, certain Dean was about to scramble for the porcelain throne and hurl.
"No, it's just not a good idea," answered Dean.
"Why?" asked Sam, lifting himself up and resting on an elbow. "That's how we usually got the other to sleep when we were kids."
"Yeah, well, we're not kids anymore," growled Dean.
Furrowing his brow, Sam glanced down to where their hands were clasped together and understanding hit when he spotted the real reason Dean had stopped him. He couldn't help it, he started to chuckle. "You've got to be kidding me. You're hard?"
Cheeks burning, Dean shoved away Sam's hand and started to bolt out of bed, but the alcohol decided at that particular moment to screw with his coordination.
"Whoa, hold on a sec," protested Sam, grabbing Dean and pulling him back down.
"Let go of me, Sam," ordered Dean, pushing at Sam to release him.
"No." Using his advantage of being sober, Sam pinned Dean down on the bed.
Eyes wide with anger, Dean stared up at him. "Have you lost your mind?!"
Sam shook his head, grinning down at Dean. This wasn't exactly what he had intended to get Dean's mind off of what had happened earlier, but whatever works.
Narrowing his eyes, Dean glared up at his brother. He didn't trust that smile.
"You're obviously having issues about going to sleep," smirked Sam. "I'm just trying to help."
"I don't need that kind of help," snapped Dean, feeling the heat on his face.
Pointedly looking down Dean's prone, nude body to the evidence that started this, Sam bit down on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated Dean's physical state.
"Get off of me," ordered Dean, bucking upward to dislodge Sam.
"Why?" asked Sam.
"Why?!" repeated Dean, in disbelief.
"You said it yourself, Dean, we're not kids anymore." Sam had no idea exactly what he had in mind, but he was willing to go with the flow if it helped Dean.
"Precisely my point," snarled Dean, as he started to twist and buck to dislodge Sam.
Tightening his legs around Dean's hips, Sam bent low over him to maintain his center of gravity. The friction caused by their bodies fighting each other had him responding in turn and it was his turn to blush.
Feeling Sam harden against him was equivalent to a bucket of ice water. Dean froze and glared up at him. "Wonderful! Now look what you've done!"
"Me?! You were the one thrashing all over the place," argued Sam, yet he still hadn't released his hold on Dean.
"Sammy, this is not a good idea and it has already gone too far," huffed Dean, switching to reason to get Sam off of him. "Not to mention you shouldn't be exerting yourself, especially after . . . ." He couldn't finish the sentence and tensed at the memory.
Sam saw the shadow of fear take hold in Dean's eyes. Determined to convince Dean he was fine, and tired of Dean telling him what to do and not do, Sam latched onto the only thing he could think of. He leaned down and kissed him.
Stunned, Dean's thoughts went static white as Sam's soft lips pressed harder against his. The flicker of Sam's tongue caused him to gasp, granting him entrance and he found himself being kissed completely and thoroughly.
Sam had intended to just shock Dean out of the dark circle of his thoughts, but instead found himself honestly kissing his brother. He could taste tart beer and leaned harder into the kiss, stretching himself flat to lie on Dean.
Caught between his mind and body, Dean broke Sam's hold on him. He had meant to shove him off, but instead he found himself clinging tightly to him.
Breaking the kiss, Sam looked down at Dean and smirked, breathing a little hard. "You were saying?"
Licking his lips at the remaining sensation of Sam's kiss, Dean noted the self satisfied expression. "Don't start something you can't finish," he challenged, certain Sam would back off.
"Who said I couldn't finish?" taunted Sam, setting his jaw stubbornly.
Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise, and jerked his head to the side as Sam once again moved to kiss him.
Gripping Dean by the chin, Sam held him tight as he captured his mouth, kissing him deeper and longer than before.
Without thinking, Dean struck out, glancing a blow against Sam's shoulder. Any other means he had intended to stop this madness shattered when Sam pushed downward with his hips. The sensation short circuited Dean's higher functioning thoughts and he pushed up to increase the pressure.
Only the soft cotton of Sam's briefs separated them and the confinement had Sam trying to shove them off without breaking the kiss.
Realizing what Sam was trying to do, Dean reached down and tugged until they were skin to skin where it counted.
"You sure?" asked Sam, allowing sanity a chance. The situation had gone from teasing to serious, and he needed to know Dean was okay with it.
"I am, if you are," said Dean, leaving the ultimate decision to Sam.
Licking his lips, Sam was breathing heavily as he studied Dean. Seeing the honesty of his answer, he nodded and grinned. "I am."
"Good," growled Dean, tightening his hold around Sam and lifting his head to kiss him back.
Grinding their hips together, they slid and rubbed against each other until Sam gasped as his orgasm crashed over him, every muscle twitching as Dean continued to rock him through it. Dropping solidly onto Dean, he sucked in air, trying to calm his heart rate.
Gripping Sam's ass with his hands, Dean shoved himself hard against him, striving for his own climax. He was starting to peak when the vision of Sam lifeless flashed behind his eyes and he faltered. He tried to blink away the image, staring over Sam's shoulder but was unable to banish it. The darkness came back with a vengeance, determined to smother him with guilt.
Sensing something was wrong, Sam lifted his head and looked saw Dean's distress. "You are not going to blame me for not coming," said Sam, trying to hide the concern in his tone. Reaching down with his hand, he fisted Dean's waning erection and started stroking up and down with a firm grip.
Focusing back on Sam, Dean could feel the darkness retreat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he jerked into Sam's fist as he came, pleasure spiking through him and he arched, his mouth opened wide but silent.
Collapsing back onto the bed, Dean swallowed against a throat gone dry as he breathed fast and deep. Furrowing his brow, he searched Sam's face for any sign of regret and found none.
"This is certainly an interesting change of events," chuckled Sam, rolling off of Dean so they were lying side by side on their backs.
"You always were the master of understatement, Sammy," panted Dean, wondering if they should talk about what just happened, but he wasn't ready for that.
Turning his head to look at Dean, Sam couldn't stop grinning. "But you have to admit, you could go to sleep now, couldn't you?"
Between the beers and the sex, Dean couldn't stop the yawn that answered for him.
"Glad I could help," said Sam, sounding righteously smug. He kicked his shorts the rest of the way off and used them to wipe the worst of the wetness off of them. Settling along Dean's side, he stretched an arm and leg across him.
"Comfy?" asked Dean, noting how effectively Sam had attached himself against him.
"Mmhmm," hummed Sam, his eyes closed.
Sighing, Dean wasn't far behind him and drifted off to dreamless sleep.
Morning light filled the room and Dean slowly lifted his head and focused on his bedmate through squinting eyes. It hadn't been a dream. With a long, painful moan, he closed his eyes.
Rolling over onto his back, Sam looked over at Dean. "How's the head this morning?"
All Dean could do was grunt. After what happened, that's the first thing Sam could find to say?
"Well, I might be able to help you with that," said Sam, smirking and raising his eyebrows.
Groaning, Dean buried his face in his pillow. "You have the audacity to say I have a one track mind?"
"Look who's my role model," grinned Sam, shifting closer.
Leave it to Sam to complicate their lives more than they already were, but it was a complication Dean was willing to explore.