writing and things

-

It’s the flowers, first.

Sam’s supposed to be out getting the two of them something to eat while they finish up their research for this case. He comes back with doughnuts, pancakes, and a bouquet of roses.

He’s quick to try to cover himself when Dean raises an eyebrow. “They just- I saw them. At the store. On the way back. And I thought you might like them, so I picked them up?”

By now, Dean’s trying to bite back a smile. He can scent the nervousness coming off Sam, and stands to meet him, leaning up on his toes for a kiss. “They’re nice,” he says simply. Leans in close when Sam’s arms wrap around his waist. “You didn’t have to. But… thanks?”

Sam’s beaming smile is definitely worth breathing in their cloying scent every time he inhales.

(And maybe it’s kind of nice to have them around brightening up the room. Maybe.)

-

“It’s not my birthday, Sam.”

There’s a new shirt in his hands, soft and warm, a worn flannel like the ones Sam knows he likes. He glances up at his brother in question; they don’t usually do things like this without some kind of reason behind it, and this has him confused. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

“What? No!” Sam looks almost offended at that. “I just- I know how much you like stealing mine, sometimes, and I just thought maybe you’d like one for yourself, too?” A pause, and he hurries to add, “not that I don’t like you wearing my clothes. You know that.”

Seeing his brother get flustered over- well, whatever this is, anyways, has Dean smiling, watching him try to figure out what to say. “I like stealing them, too. They smell like you.” He pauses, gives the shirt another look. “But this is nice. Maybe you can sleep on it or something so it smells like you, too.”

Sam grins at that, looks triumphant for reasons Dean can’t imagine. “Yeah, alright. If you want.” A kiss pressed to his forehead, and Dean feels his brother’s nose nudging just behind his ear after, breathing in deep. “Or maybe you just sleep with me wearing it. That’ll work.”

Dean laughs and presses closer. He’s not sure what’s gotten into Sam recently, but he’s definitely not complaining.

-

It’s not until he catches Sam trying to cook that Dean decides to confront him about whatever’s going on. 

“Dude, that’s gonna burn if you leave it on there much longer.”

Either Sam’s so absorbed in what he’s doing that he doesn’t hear Dean’s entrance or he’s just not paying attention, because he jumps a little at the words, spins around. “Oh- uh. Thanks. Right.” He goes back to the stove and turns the burner down, leans in to inspect the burgers. “You’re early.”

“You’re up to something,” Dean counters. He heads over to watch what Sam’s doing, his brother’s careful movements while he assembles a couple burgers. They look delicious, and Dean feels his stomach growl. “The cooking, the presents, you being a bigger sap than usual. C’mon, what is it? Am I dying and you’re just not telling me?”

“What? No. No, ‘course not.” Sam shakes his head quickly, sets the burgers on a couple plates before moving towards Dean, settling his hands on his hips. “It’s nothing like that. Promise.”

“Then what is it?” Dean leans into his alpha’s touch, raises an eyebrow. “Because something’s up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cook.”

“That’s always been your job.” Sam’s smiling, rests his forehead against Dean’s. “Maybe just ‘cause I like seeing my pretty little omega making me dinner. Or because you look cute in an apron.” A pause, a considerate hum, and then he adds, “just an apron.”

“You think I look cute in everything.” Dean grins and goes for a quick kiss. “You still didn’t tell me what’s up, though.”

And then Sam actually looks embarrassed, and oh boy, Dean is excited to see where this is going.

“I, uh…” He bites his lip, rubs at the back of his neck. “When we got together- it just kinda happened, you know?”

“Yeah.” Dean shrugs. He remembers that night, the urgency, the need between them. Even now, he’s surprised they waited so long before mating officially. “What’s your point?”

“I never really… well.” Sam clears his throat. “Y’know. Usually when an alpha meets an omega they like, they try to… give them gifts, impress them. Win them over.”

Dean’s about to point out that Sam’s had him won over since the day he was born, but stops short when he realizes what his brother’s talking about. “Are you- are you worried because you didn’t woo me?”

And oh, his brother is honest-to-god blushing, and this is too good. “No. Yes. Maybe.” 

“Oh my god.” Dean tries not to laugh, but can’t help the huff that sneaks out. “Seriously? Is that why you’ve been doing all this?”

“Yeah.” Sam shrugs, glances away. Clears his throat. “I know it’s stupid, or whatever, I just- thought I should try to do things right-”

“It’s not stupid.” Sam’s getting himself worked up, so Dean cuts in. “I like it. But you don’t need to do this stuff, okay? You’ve already got me, you big dork.”

That earns him a smile, and Sam leans in close again, nudging the tip of his nose against Dean’s. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try to keep you happy.”

“Guess so.” Dean grins and gives his brother a quick kiss. “Now c’mon, let’s see if your wooing burgers are any good.”

“There’s a wooing pie in the oven, too.”

Dean pauses, then gives Sam a proper kiss. “Best mate ever,” and it’s mumbled against Sam’s lips, but the breathless little laugh that escapes his brother tells him he heard it.

They’ve barely made it in the door before Sam’s kicking the door shut, remembers to lock it before shoving Dean backwards, down onto the bed. Strips down like his clothes are on fire.

“Could’ve lost you,” he mumbles, climbs on top of Dean. Nearly tears the buttons off his shirt with how rough he is trying to get it off. “God, Dean, you were- you could’ve…”

Dean shifts, helps in the struggle to get himself naked. Probably doesn’t want to lose any clothes to Sam’s desperation. “I’m fine,” he insists, even his shirt comes off, reveals the cuts and bruises he’s gotten himself during the captivity.

Sam growls low in his throat when he sees them. Forces himself to focus on Dean’s jeans instead. “You’re hurt,” he says, gets the button out of the way, then the zipper, then shoves them down Dean’s hips, out of the way. His brother shifts to accommodate him, and soon, Dean’s naked, laid out for his inspection.

“I should’ve got there sooner.” Sam doesn’t give Dean a chance to reply, surges forward and catches his lips in a hard kiss. Tastes blood between them.

He ends up flipping Dean over, hikes his hips up, grabs the lube. The prep is fast and messy, and he’s getting lined up soon, presses inside, breathes out harshly against the back of Dean’s neck.

“Could’ve lost you,” Sam mumbles again, eyes closed. He shifts slightly, gathers Dean’s wrists into one hand, pins them to the bed, then grabs his hip with the other, tight. Maybe bruising. Dean’s breath hitches, Sam tightens his grip.

Everything sort of blurs after that, choked-off whimpers, moans muffled in freckled skin. Sam comes first, releases Dean’s hips to get his brother the rest of the way there.

Neither of them have the energy to clean up. Dean slumps down first, Sam moving to lie down carefully beside him. He curls up tight to his brother’s back, noses at the nape of his neck.

Dean’s quiet. Doesn’t resist when Sam wraps an arm around him, rests a hand over his heart.

“You’re mine,” Sam says softly. “Love you.”

Dean just nods, exhales slowly. “Love you, too.”

It’s not until the next morning that Sam notices it’s the first thing his brother’s said since they got back to the room.

Dean’s already up when Sam stirs the next morning, shower running in the other room. Sam decides to take his time, stretches slowly and waits for his brother to reappear.

When Dean comes out of the bathroom, he’s got a towel around his waist, which is weird enough in itself. He’s sporting a bit of a limp, too, and Sam winces in sympathy.

“Morning,” he says, clears his throat when it comes out rough. “You feelin’ alright?”

Dean shrugs, heads for his duffle. “Yeah, just a little achy. No big deal.”

It’s not until Dean starts getting dressed that Sam notices the finger-shaped bruises on his brother’s hip. The matching ones that circle his wrists, still red after being rubbed raw on the cord the shifter had been holding him with.

“Dean?”

No response. Dean digs out a pair of jeans. “I think there’s a case we can check out a little farther north. Sounds like a pretty easy spirit thing.”

“Dean.”

“Salt and burn, y’know. Something to give us a bit of a break. Had enough of being tied up for now, I think.”

Sam slides out of bed, walks up behind his brother. Wraps his arms around Dean’s waist. “Did I hurt you?”

Dean stops, finally. Doesn’t look at him. “Told you I’m fine.”

“You’re limping,” Sam can’t help but point out. His hand finds the bruises on Dean’s hip, fits his fingers against them gently. “And kinda beat up.”

A shrug. “I’m good. Seriously.”

That’s the end of the conversation, but Dean doesn’t really look him in the eye for the rest of the morning. It does nothing but cause the slowly-building guilt in Sam’s chest to fester and grow. He feels a little sick with it, and finds himself shooting sad looks at Dean through the car ride to the next town. He’s determined to fix this, whatever it is. Dean deserves better than his brother hurting him, accidentally or otherwise, and he’s going to get it.

They go after the next job, burn the bones within a few hours of showing up in town. It’s textbook-easy, nothing more threatening about it than the potential of getting caught digging up the grave. Nothing of the sort happens, and they even stop at the bar for a couple celebratory beers before they head back to the motel.

Dean’s in a good mood, smiling properly again, bumping against Sam, bragging about how easy the hunt was. Sam’s smiling with him, but his attention is elsewhere. He’s pretty sure he knows what to do, how to solve this problem they’ve got, and he intends to go through with it as soon as possible.

When the door closes behind them this time, Sam’s slow. Careful. He shrugs out of his jacket, kicks off his boots, waits for Dean to do the same before coming up behind his brother, sliding his arms around Dean’s waist.

“Hey,” he murmurs, ducks down and brushes his lips against the back of Dean’s neck. “I think that hunt deserves some celebrating, huh?”

Dean leans back into him, and Sam can hear the smile in his voice. “What, no alpha male routine tonight?”

Sam feels a little bad about that, and he noses into the fine hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. “No. Trying something different tonight, so… humour me?”

Dean’s response is to turn around in his arms, leaving them chest to chest. “I always do,” he says simply, then leans up to press their lips together.

It’s been too long, Sam thinks, since he’s really taken the time to appreciate this. To properly hold Dean like this, kiss him slowly, try to puzzle out the different flavours on his tongue. Beer, something minty from hours ago. Pure, unfiltered Dean. God, but he’s missed this, and Dean seems to be right there with him.

Moving to the bed is slow, and Sam turns, goes down first so Dean can settle in his lap, a welcome weight. It’s an odd sort of role-reversal; he remembers straddling Dean like this so often when they were teenagers, but now that they’re older, Dean’s the perfect size to get on top of him, arms around his neck, breaking away from the kiss to catch his breath.

“You’re in a chick flick mood,” Dean accuses, sounds a little breathless. “Why?”

Sam smiles, not quite sheepish. “Because you deserve it.”

Before Dean can respond, Sam’s moving to get his shirt off, pulls it over his head before helping Dean with his. Once they’re both out of the way, he goes right back to kissing his brother, intent on appreciating every second of this.

He’s not sure when Dean starts the movement of his hips, but they’re grinding against each other, slow and steady, soft moans released where their lips meet. It becomes too much after a few minutes, and they break apart just long enough to get their clothes out of the way.

Sam lays Dean down underneath him once they’re back together, ducks down to kiss a line down his chest. He pays extra attention to a couple cuts and bruises, nothing out of the norm for them. They’ll be gone and replaced in a week, and they’re inconsequential.

“Love seeing you like this,” Sam murmurs, slants a glance up at his brother. Dean’s panting softly, looking down at him, blushes a little bit. “You’re goddamn gorgeous, you know?”

Dean just brings a hand up to card through Sam’s hair. “And you’re a goddamn sap,” he replies, but there’s a smile on his face, softer than normal. It’s the encouragement Sam needs to continue, and he continues his little worship of Dean’s body.

The lube comes out not long after, and Sam’s careful to take his time. His mouth is still working at Dean’s skin while the first finger teases at his entrance, pushes inside and seeks out his prostate out of sheer habit. He’s got Dean writhing under him within a moment, and he smiles. Wonders how long he can draw this out before his brother demands that he gets a move on.

He’s a few minutes in and adds a second finger when Dean apparently gets fed up with the pace. “Another one,” he says, pupils blown. “Just- want you. Sammy, please.”

Sam smiles, can’t help himself. “Whatever you want,” he murmurs, and starts working the thirst finger in. He doesn’t spend quite as much time drawing it out now, but he’s still careful to make sure his brother’s stretched properly before pulling his fingers out. He shifts up higher over Dean’s body, braces his forearm beside Dean’s head and gets himself lined up.

“Ready?”

Dean smiles, hooks a leg around Sam’s lower back to haul himself in closer. “Always,” he says simply, then leans up a little bit to seal their lips in a kiss.

It’s more than enough of an invitation, and Sam starts pressing forward as their tongues tangle together, panted breath turning into moans, his fingers curling in the bed sheets as he feels Dean gripping at his hair. They move together, in tandem, Dean rocking his hips in fractional movements to complement Sam’s forward motion, and soon they’re flush together, Dean’s ass pressed against Sam’s thighs, and they both stop to catch their breath.

“Hey,” Sam whispers, opens his eyes and smiles a bit. Brushes the tip of his nose against Dean’s gently. “You good?”

“Yeah.” Dean smiles, and Sam feels his brother’s fingers raking through his hair. “You alright? You’re acting different.”

Sam shrugs. Rolls his hips shallowly. They both groan, and he presses a little closer. “Just tryin’ something out,” he murmurs. “The debrief can wait.”

The pace stays slow, an easy rolling of his hips, and Dean catches on pretty quick, meets each thrust with a movement of his own to drive Sam that much deeper, bring them that much closer together.

It’s deep and slow, thorough, not something they’ve had much of lately. It’s not hard to notice how much Dean’s enjoying himself. He’s clinging to Sam’s shoulders, pulling him in close until he can bury his face in the crook of Sam’s neck. Sam isn’t quite used to this much contact, the affection of it, but god it he doesn’t love it.

Dean doesn’t say anything, but when his grip tightens and his breathing gets short, Sam knows his brother’s getting close. He shifts slightly, lets one of his hands slip down between their bodies.

“Almost there?” he murmurs, the words ghosting over the shell of Dean’s ear. “You feel it, big brother?”

Dean shivers under him, arches up where Sam’s hand rests flat on his belly. “Yeah,” he breathes out, gasping when Sam brushes over his prostate on a slightly harder thrust. 

Sam smiles, ducks down to brush the tip of his nose along the side of Dean’s neck. “Good.” His hand finds his brother’s cock then, grips it just tighter than loose and starts stroking. “Want you to come for me, baby. Want to see you this time.”

Whether it’s the physical stimulation that does it for him or the words whispered into his skin, it doesn’t take long for Dean to reach his climax. He clenches tight around Sam, breath hitching on something that sounds like “god, Sammy,” and spills between them, streaking both their bellies and Sam’s hand with come.

Sam works him through the orgasm, keeps moving his hips those few extra thrusts before he’s following right after his brother, a full-body shiver going through him as the feeling of Dean still tight around his cock milks the orgasm out of him.

They wind down together, all soft panting and careful adjustments until Sam’s pulling out, moves to stretch out beside his brother. He gropes blindly along the floor to the side of the bed until he finds a worn t-shirt, brings it back to gently wipe up some of their mess.

Dean moves in close of his own accord, fits himself against Sam’s chest and tucks in close. They’re quiet for a moment, a comfortable sort of silence settling between them before Sam breaks it.

“I’m sorry. About last time, I mean.”

Dean peeks over his shoulder. Grabs one of Sam’s hands and pulls his arm around his body. “It wasn’t even bad.”

“I still hurt you.” Sam frowns, hugs Dean to his chest. Can’t imagine hurting his brother.

A moment of hesitation before Dean responds. “This was good. I liked it.”

Sam hides a smile, brushes his lips against the nape of his brother’s neck. “Like it when we take it slow?” There’s teasing in his voice, but it’s gentle, playful. “We can do it like this more often, if you want.”

Dean sighs. Sam can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Only so much of your sappiness I can take at a time, kiddo.” A brief pause. Dean’s quiet when he continues. “It was nice. But if you tell anyone I said that, you won’t live to laugh about it.”

Sam presenting as an alpha had been a really quite lackluster affair. Dean remembers his brother approaching him when they were young, asking about puberty, what signs to look for. A determined look on his face. A simple announcement, a couple weeks later, that he’d popped his knot.

Regardless of Sam’s alpha status, though, Dean can’t help but think he’s never really fit the mould. As much as he fights with their father, he always struggle with it. John probably doesn’t notice, Dean’s sure, but it’s impossible to miss the way his brother squares his shoulders, stands up straight and makes a visible effort to steel himself. There’s none of the aggression, the sort of attacks and posturing that come out when two alphas have a disagreement.

(Dean’s done his best to make sure that he and his father have as few disagreements as possible. As much as it goes against his nature to submit, he knows logically that it’s best for everyone.)

But Dean doesn’t question it, not really. He’s got more important things to worry about- ghosts and monsters and demons- than the fact that his brother is more tame than most alphas tend to be.

The news about Stanford leaves Dean shocked, their family in shambles. It’s hard to pick up without Sam, and it feels like something’s missing. Something vital.

He starts fighting with his dad more often. It seems so much easier to become inflamed about things without Sam around, for reasons Dean can’t identify. It’s what leads to them splitting up, and- ultimately- to losing track of John in the first place.

Dean doesn’t think before he starts towards California. He just drives.

The address isn’t hard to find, but the scents that greet him are damn near impossible to place.

There’s a beta there, faintly, a visitor from a couple days ago, probably. That’s not unusual. What throws him is the overwhelming scent of omega- close to heat, he’s sure. The first explanation his brain comes up with is that Sam’s got himself someone- but even as the jealously twinges in his chest, he can tell it’s not the case.

Dean’s possibly the most tentative he’s ever been in his life when he knocks on the door, hovers unsurely like he can’t decide whether or not he belongs. 

There’s some shuffling inside, a muffled “Jess, you said you’d call first,” and then the door’s opening and Dean gets the first good look of his brother that he’s had in four years.

Sam’s lips are parted just slightly, like he’s in shock, but the first thing Dean registers is how different he looks. He seems smaller, almost, softer. Still tall, taller than Dean, but less built, soft curves smoothing out the hard edges he’s used to. There’s a flicker in his eyes, too; he looks down before making himself look up again.

And then, of course, there’s the scent.

“Dean?” Sam breathes, sounds confused-surprised-scared. Before Dean can respond, he’s being grabbed, tugged inside by the arm, the door pushed shut and locked behind him. “What are… you didn’t call.”

It takes Dean a moment to gather himself, to get over the sweet scent of omega- of his brother, his brother who he was sure had been an alpha when he left- that’s making his mouth water, something stir in his chest. He swallows hard. Tries to focus.

“Hey, kiddo.” He smiles, tries to make his stance more casual and less alpha, because that’s what he does when he’s too intimidating for an omega on a case, but this is Sam, and this whole situation has his head spinning. “Been a while. Got something to tell me?”

Sam seems to be at a loss for a moment, opens and closes his mouth a couple times before he glances down. Can’t seem to help himself. “I can explain.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Dean moves to plop down on a nearby couch, sprawls out a little bit because it’s what he does. “I’m waiting.”

Sam joins him a moment later, a few inches between them. Dean ignores the part of him that wants to grab his brother, drag him in close, press his nose into Sam’s neck and breathe in and- 

Not the best train of thought.

“Dad always talked about how great it was that you were an alpha,” Sam begins, looks down at his hands where he’s picking at the hem of his shirt. “How important it was to be strong like that. Hunters have to be strong, right? Part of the job.”

Understanding begins to wash over Dean, and he sits back a little. Wonders how he didn’t notice all over again. “You didn’t want him to know.”

“I would’ve told you,” Sam insists. “I mean- I wanted to, but… you were always really loyal to him, and if I told you, I thought you might’ve told him, too, and he would’ve kicked me out or something, and I just-”

Sam’s starting to panic. Dean can smell it as much as he can hear it in his voice, and it’s almost alarming how natural it feels to slide in closer, wrap his arms around his brother and pull him in close. Tuck Sam’s head under his chin like he’s a little kid again. “Hey, hey,” he says, low and soothing. “It’s okay, I get it. You’re good, Sammy. Had us all fooled, huh?”

Sam sniffles a little, but Dean can feel him smiling against his neck. “I thought you’d catch me for sure. I had- had scent blockers. Suppressants. All that stuff.”

“Must’ve been real careful, huh?” Dean murmurs. “So- you got away, figured you weren’t hunting anymore… didn’t need to be an alpha?”

Sam nods a little bit. “People mostly think I’m beta here. Just don’t want it to get around, y’know? Just- the way some people act.”

Dean tightens his grip on Sam. Doesn’t want to think about the way some assholes might treat him for being omega. “I’m not gonna let that happen,” he murmurs. “Never. Got it?”

“But…” There’s quiet for a moment, hesitation. “What about hunting? What about Dad?”

Dean shrugs. Shuffles until he can pull Sam into his lap properly. “We were fighting all the time. Haven’t seen him in a couple weeks. He’s doin’ his own thing out east. He can live without me, but…” He ducks down, noses through Sam’s hair. “I’ve got a whole lot of time to make up for not treatin’ you right. Should’ve been taking care of you better. I would’ve, if I knew.”

Sam nods. Presses in closer, breathes in deep. Relaxes in his arms. “I know,” he says softly. “So you’ll stay?”

“Long as you’ll have me.” Dean pulls back enough to smile at his brother. “’Sides, who’s gonna take care of you if I’m not around to do it?”

Sam laughs, rolls his eyes. “Guess so.” He leans in, gives Dean a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a good brother. S’long as you don’t go all alpha on me and have me running around barefoot and pregnant.”

Dean laughs. Winks. “That can wait a little longer,” he assures Sam playfully. “Got lots of time before we have to worry about that.”