#foreverwincest

“Remember how it made you go crazy?” he presses. For three long days, Dean oscillated between hoarding, sweating, and acting like a prickly pear around everyone who wasn’t Sam. That’s why it took them so long to notice -- it wasn’t until late on day three that Dean started with the stockpiling. “Well, the waiter you wanted to knock out is the one who just served me your pie.”

Dean scoffs and starts eyeing the bag. “Everyone has bad days, man. What do you want me to do about it now?”

“Well next time, you can go in, for starters.” Sam punctuates his request by throwing the credit card back at Dean. “And they didn’t have any cherry left.”

As Dean catches the card with a hand slap to the chest, he also leans over to curiously peer into the bag. “What’d you get me?”

“Apple.” Sam reaches back for his seatbelt, even though there probably aren’t any car accidents or speed traps in Heaven. He catches the sudden weird look on Dean’s face and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Dean’s eyes go all squinty into the distance as he tries to figure something out.

“Why is the place where I threatened to knock some guy out up here in Heaven?” he wonders, gaze suddenly snapping over to Sam. They make direct eye contact, and Sam feels his face get hot when Dean starts smirking. “Something you want to tell me, man?”

Sam snorts, overcompensates, realizes it, and then tries to play it off with a casual, “Like what?”

“Like,” Dean dramatically announces, raising both eyebrows. “Maybe you got all tingly when I defended your honor, and now you want to relieve that memory again and again and again?”

Even though Sam knows he’s all twitchy, he tightens his expression and plows through.

“Keep dreaming, man.” He shakes his head and snorts again, but when he glances over, Dean is still staring at him with that look on his face. Sam clears his throat and quickly changes the subject. “Can we just find somewhere to park for the night?”

Dean’s expression softens from I’m calling you out to I’m reaping the benefits.

“You got it, Sammy,” he grins, officially letting Sam off the hook.

They pull out of the tiny parking lot, and Dean stretches his arm out along the back of the seat, fingers curling to rest against Sam’s shoulder.

Sam cranks his window down. It’s a perfectly balmy midsummer night, even though they haven’t been up here for a whole day yet, and they both died in winter.

As they get back on the highway, Dean knocks his fingers into the back of Sam’s ear.

Sam bites back a smile.

*

The highway runs up the coast, and then out onto a peninsula that hangs over the water.

Sam knows they aren’t earthbound anymore, but the blue ocean and the tall trees are all unmistakably redwood country. They bomb down the peninsula with Dean’s favorite mixtape playing. There’s nothing out here but dusky blue skies and deep blue water.

“It’s kinda like driving right into space,” Sam comments. “But like, uncanny valley.”

Dean parks the car near the end of the road and turns off the ignition. “I wonder who controls the scenery, me or you.”

“Maybe both of us?” Sam raises his eyebrows. “We’ve been in all the same places.”

With a shrug, Dean digs into their takeout bag, and pulls out his gigantic burger in a double-wide styrofoam container that buckles when he tries to hold it one handed.

“I don’t know, man,” he says, briefly glancing over at Sam. Sam stares back, and then drops his gaze to watch as Dean flips his container open and lifts the top bun off his burger to remove the pickle. “You got me extra sauce,” he gasps, picking up the drippy, shitty burger with both hands. “Have I told you I love you lately?”

Smiling, Sam shakes his head slowly, and unwraps his ever reasonable sandwich.

“About thirty years ago.” Sam takes Dean’s pickle slice and adds, “Once.”

The smile on Dean’s face is big and bright. A thousand megawatts lit up, brighter than anything else even in Heaven.

“Well, I love ya, Sammy,” he says, fondly.

*

The stars come out, and all of the little adobe houses sprinkled up the coastline turn their lights on.

“We could find a motel,” Dean suggests, gaze fixed out on the water.

Sam turns away from Dean and looks at all the houses scattered away from them.

“Nah.” Sam wrinkles up his nose. Dean wrinkles his back. “I wanna sleep here.”

On earth, every new day had possibility -- kismet, and advent, and Dean. The comfort in knowing they were only separated by death is what kept Sam alive some days; he knew this, that he would be here again, whether it happened under the stars or in hellfire.

When Sam got into bed on the mattress Dean never laid on, in the big house Dean never lived in, he would close his eyes and sink away. Just so he could see stars, like these stars, and be here again.

Small, lonely celebrations. They can find a motel to sleep in tomorrow night.

The houses up the coastline glow for a little while longer. Sam lays on the hood and stares up at the sky.

*

“Catch,” Dean says, tossing Sam’s toothbrush into the air.

They keep looking at each other, grinning and laughing as they stand on the bluff and spit toothpaste off the rocks.

“Mine definitely went further than yours, Dean.” Sam is both eternally Player 2 and the one who makes the call. He points out into the dark black water like he can pinpoint exactly where his last one hit and gives Dean a smug look. “Beat that.”

Dean imitates him in a wobbly high-pitched voice, “Mine went further than yours,” and then loses interest in going for distance and turns to spit at Sam instead. Sam can tell he’s going to do it by the look on his face, so he laughs and jumps away right as Dean loads up and aims for his feet.

As he bounces by, he smacks Dean in the chest.

“Don’t swallow,” Sam unhelpfully cackles when Dean starts choking on his toothpaste.

Dean bends over, gagging and spitting, and even with tears in his eyes he still shoots a dirty look in Sam’s direction and smirks, “Why I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that before, Sammy.”

“Shut up.” Sam laughs some more and goes back to angling his toothbrush over his back molars. “You know, I didn’t miss your sex jokes.”

He actually missed everything, but that’s nothing Dean has to know about.

Even so -- Dean looks scandalized for the first time since Sam has been topside. “I’m the funniest person you know.”

“You’re the only person I know,” Sam counters.

He knows he screwed up last time they were in Heaven. There wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t think about Dean’s hurt expression lit up in those streetlights.

Dean looks like he wants to say something, too. They stare at each other as Dean clearly works out whether he’s going to cop to whatever it is, or keep it to himself for a while.

“About that,” he finally starts, hedging. Sam raises his eyebrows. “We’re not alone up here anymore.”

Sam gives him a look. “That’s cryptic, Carol Anne.”

“I was here for about a minute before Bobby found me, man,” Dean explains. Sam’s eyebrows knot; that actually is a surprise. “Well, I guess I found him.” Dean pauses to reconsider, clearly still trying to figure out his train of thought. “He gave me a beer.”

Still not totally following, Sam asks, “What, like a memory?”

“No, not a memory.” Dean shakes his head. “Bobby told me Heaven is different now. Jack busted all the walls down.”

Both of Sam’s eyebrows jerk up. “Seriously?”

“That’s what he said.” Dean shrugs. “Mom and dad, Rufus, Ellen.” He dramatically twirls his toothbrush around in a circular motion. “Everyone. They’re all around here somewhere.”

So even with the walls down, he and Dean are still stepping in the same footprint.

“Wow.” Sam smiles a little. “So it’s like, fairytale Heaven now.”

Dean shrugs and digs around in his toiletry bag. “Guess so.”

“So… what.” It’s not like Dean was ever a social butterfly, but… Sam watches as he packs his toothbrush away, and looks at him curiously. “You didn’t go and see mom? And dad?”

They stare at each other for a minute, and Dean gets shifty.

“I just drove around until you got here,” he finally shrugs, playing it cool.

Which really means he’s circling the drain and acting all bugged out, because that’s how Dean always gets when he has to admit he has feelings for Sam in a way that doesn’t include suicide or the death of whoever else gets stuck in their crosshair.

And Sam doesn’t help, because he starts to crack up in a truly uncontrollable way.

“Moment ruined,” Dean scoffs, throwing one hand up.

He turns back around to face the car, and Sam scrambles after him, still laughing.

“I’m sorry,” he calls, voice coming out all lopsided when he tries to swallow another laugh. “I’m sorry, Dean. Hey.” He reaches out and snags Dean by the back of the jacket; Dean spins around and glares at him. “Hey,” Sam says again, serious this time. He clears his throat and raises his eyebrows earnestly. “I would have done the same thing.”

Dean is still glaring up at him but he does let Sam get in a hug.

“You wouldn’t have had the wheels to do so,” he says petulantly.

Sam smiles and tilts his nose into Dean’s ear. “Guess I would have been waiting for you at the side of the road, then.”

“Yeah, sounds like something you would do,” Dean crabs back.

But under Sam’s jacket, he worms his fingers around until he finds Sam’s waist.

“I was scared I would wake up in the dark.” Sam finally admits it, quietly, into the soft collar of Dean’s flannel shirt. “I memorized a druidic memory spell. Just in case.”

Dean snorts, but his grip on Sam tightens, as well. He whispers, “I would have found ya.”

“Yeah.” Neither of them moves an inch. “I know that.”

*

“Easy, tiger.” Dean dragged Sam’s lower lip down with his thumb. “We ain’t gotta rush this. We got time.” He cradled Sam’s jaw, stroked his chin, petted down Sam’s neck. Stubble rasped. Sam’s heart beat, breath steamed. More than alive. “I love you.”

Sam exhaled in a rush. Almost as satisfying as the feather-in-the-wind sensation of saying it, then and there, with forever stretched out in front of them instead of Dean’s life leaking all over a dirty floor.

“God, Dean—”

“You ain’t gotta say anything.”

“Are you—” Sam’s big hands swallowed Dean’s skull. “I—”

Dean kissed him again, was no time for tears. He ran his mouth instead. “I wanna fuck you, Sam.”

He sucked a breath.

As soon as they got someplace private. “Gonna choke you on my dick from behind.”

Sam moaned, smashed their mouths together and pushed his tongue in. Backed Dean up against the bumper. He hung off Sam’s belt loops, grinned around Sam’s lips. Spared a thought for any souls who might pass by there—they weren’t alone anymore, not like the last times. He let Sam kiss him raw before he got to work getting Sam’s fly apart. Low groan buzzed Dean to his toes.

Hard. Sam’s waistband snagged on his cock, and, Seriously. Do we even need clothes in Heaven? Dean wrestled knit cotton, denim and elastic down below Sam’s hips. Belt buckle glinted in the fading sun. He took a double-handful of Sam’s ass and dragged him in. Rubbed on him. Sam melted. Stumbled. Dean ducked behind, looped his arms at Sam’s waist, laid his head against his brother’s spine and breathed him in.

Sam smelled clean, like he used to after a shower, after a run. His chest shrank and expanded. Growling, squirming under Dean and making the hard-on trapped in his jeans ache. Sam spun on him. Opened and shoved a hand down Dean’s pants while he cradled Sam’s neck, towed him in and kissed him. Eyelids. Points of his cheeks. Every mole on his face. Dean leaned back, looked Sam over one more time. Flushed skin, tangled hair. Eyes the color of every sky Dean ever saw. He squeezed Sam’s neck. Winked.

He went back to kissing Sam, all down his jaw, under his ear. Sam’s fist clenched and released in the back of Dean’s shirt. He hooked his other hand around Dean’s dick and grazed it against his.

“Yeah,” Dean rumbled, “get us off together; that’s so hot.”

Sam wrapped them up. Dean nipped, licked, flicked at his earlobe. Sam jerked fast, tight to the point of pain. He breathed in Dean’s hair, grunted soft. Sweat and precome built between them. Sam picked up his pace. “Wanna see you come, Dean, been thinking about this—” He cut off when Dean latched his mouth on Sam’s neck. Nosed his way under Sam’s collar, opened wide and sucked for the mother of all hickeys. Didn’t even know if it would work, but Sam moaned, and that was good enough. Dean’s balls drew up, and he sank into the lightning storm Sam made of his nerves. Sam’s cock slid alongside his. Faster. All the movement Sam’s now. Dean slid his hands inside Sam’s overshirt, got under his tee.

“I love you too,” Sam murmured.

Dean erupted. Knees went out, and he hollered. Vision blanked. Wave after wave, his stomach clenched, thighs shook. Sam held on, held him up.

“…better than I ever…”

Sam didn’t come.

Still twitching, Dean wheeled Sam around and bent him over the hood. Come-slick, Sam’s dick slipped into his hand. Dean stroked quick and brutal, ground his flagging cock between Sam’s cheeks. Sam came roaring, shot all over the paintjob and Dean’s fingers. Dean clung to him, wrung him out. Whispered hot, and perfect, and Sammy. Rode it out with him.

They slumped to the ground.

Sam huffed, caught his breath. Dean watched him and wondered whether they blew like that because this was Heaven, or if this was all Sam. They’d have to conduct experiments, he decided. Gather more data; Sammy loved research. He leaned over and bumped Sam’s shoulder. Sam laid his arm across Dean’s and clasped their hands.

“No more waiting,” Dean said, when his wits came back.

“No more.” Sam nodded. Disbelief still shadowed his eyes.

“There’s a house about,” Dean hooked his thumb over his shoulder, “half a mile or so back that way. Want you to tell me everything, Sammy, and…” Sam squeezed his hand. “I’ve got a lot to tell you too. A lot to make up for.”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “I want a clean slate. A fresh start. I want…”

Dean dragged him in for a kiss.

“Just stay with me,” Sam finished.

Dean answered, “Forever, little brother.”