#older sam

Stanford Sam has no idea where his brother is or if he’s even okay. He’s probably flirting with Jess at this moment, or studying for a pointless test. Sam doesn’t dwell on the fact that he’s more bothered by his past self’s ignorance than the thought of his dead lover.

It takes some time but Sam manages to narrow down a small list of hunts Dean could be on and makes his way through each town, checking motels all the way. Finally, after about a week, Sam finds his brother dangerously drunk at a shitty bar in Kansas.

Sam stands in the entrance of the bar, stunned by the sight of Dean. Beautiful, young, living Dean. He looks.. much younger than Sam remembers. Only his eyes aren’t full of life the way Sam was so used to then. No, instead they’re dull and exhausted. Sam hates it.

He positions himself at the end of the bar and watches Dean. The bartender, an older woman, pours him two shots of whiskey at his motioning and sighs when he immediately downs them both.

“Am I gonna hafta cut you off?”

Dean waves a hand and grins lazily, “I haven’t even fallen off the stool yet.”

The bartender just shakes her head, passes him a glass of water and gives him a stern look before making her way over to Sam.

“What’ll it be?”

Sam blinks, mind still on Dean, and forces himself to ask for a beer so he can go back to staring. He misses the woman rolling her eyes. She grabs the same brand of beer the green-eyed boy has ordered the past two nights and slams it in front of Sam, splashing it onto his hand. He startles and sends the bartender a glare she ignores entirely as she walks away. Sam shrugs it off and turns his gaze back to Dean. He’s got his phone out now and stares at it like it’s a bomb he needs to diffuse. A distant voice in his head says this is around the time Stanford Sam stopped talking to Dean entirely, his feelings too conflicting and painful.

Dean must have zoned out glaring at his phone because he jumps when it starts ringing. His eyes widen in what Sam can only describe as anxious excitement only to narrow in confusion when he reads his screen. Dean takes a deep breath and answers.

Immediately Sam knows their father is on the other end. Dean’s suddenly stiff body language telling enough. Sam can’t hear whatever Dean mutters in reply to the voice in his ear but he can see Dean nodding every few seconds. Eventually Sam hears, “Got it. I’ll take care of it, Sir.”

So this is how it went. John off hunting down Azazel while Dean bounced from town to town, bar to motel, with no backup Sam knows of. It looks like John’s only contact with Dean was to feed him information on hunts. Sam’s not sure how accurate that is, Dean never talks much of this time, but he hates John nonetheless.

Sam grew out his facial hair the past few weeks and he thinks it just might keep Dean from questioning his identity. Sam quickly finishes his beer and strides over to sit beside Dean.

His brother glances his way then stops and not-so-subtly gives Sam a long look. Sam grins and calls over the bartender. She gives Sam another eye roll that he ignores. He orders two more beers. She sets Dean’s down much more gently than his.

Dean raises an eyebrow at Sam in question. Sam nods to the beer, “Come on. You’re not considering the water, are you?”

Dean shrugs and takes a long drink. Sam shamelessly watches his wet lips wrap around the glass and his pink tongue poke out to grab a stray drop as he puts the glass down. Dean gives Sam another long look. “You seem familiar. You come here often?”

Sam laughs lightly and shakes his head, “No. I’m just passing through. You?”

Dean nods, “Same here. Gotta skip town for a new job tomorrow actually.”

Sam takes a small drink of his beer and smiles at Dean, “Well that’s tomorrow. Must mean you’re free tonight,” he leans in until his lips are a breath away from Dean’s ear.

“Must means I have time to fuck you in every position I want.”

Dean makes a noise in the back of his throat and flushes a beautiful pink. “You got a room nearby?”

Sam nips at Dean’s ear and leans back. “Follow me,” he stands and waits as Dean stumbles off his stool but true to his word, does not fall. Dean somewhat clumsily walks up next to Sam and he places a large hand on the small of Dean’s back. Sam leads them out of the bar and into the cool night air. Dean trips over a rock and Sam easily catches him, keeping him tucked against his side the rest of the way to the motel.

Soon, Sam will make Dean his. And he will never let him go. He’ll swallow every moan and plea, memorize every inch of skin, claim the deepest parts of him. And Dean will beg for more.