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Dean gently shut the door to Baby with his hip, balancing their two soft drinks in one hand and the greasy take out bags in the other. His eyes swept the small-town motel parking lot, a subconscious practice drilled into him by Dad. The sun was setting behind him, casting a beautiful red-orange light on the dingy place they chose for the week. Satisfied with the empty and quiet atmosphere, he trudged up the short gravel path to their room door. Dean lifted his foot to knock, but before his boot even made contact with the cheap wood, Sammy unlocked the door and swung it open.
Dean flashed him a grin and wiggled his eyebrows as he stepped inside. “Soup’s on!” He pushed passed Sam and set the drinks and bags on the small circular table, one of the only pieces of furniture in the shoddy room. Although, Dean had to admit, the dollar-store birthday decorations Sam had hung up significantly made the place feel more homey. It was clear that he was beyond excited. Dean's heart squeezed in his chest. He shook his head and turned back to Sam. Sam, who was crouched down, faced away and double-checking the salt line by the door.
Dean took this moment of Sam’s distraction to look him over, just to settle the screaming thoughts in his mind. His baby brother, two days away from turning 18, was all limbs and tan skin. Two days away from receiving his half of his soulmate mark. Two days away from belonging to someone else that wasn’t Dean.
Sam straightened up and Dean’s eyes snapped away, back to the table that held their dinner. He needed to stop thinking like that. He had been pushing the impure thoughts down for years, and he would have no choice but to forget them all together when Sam got his mark.
Brothers were what they were born as, and brothers were what they would always be.
-_-_-
"Dean!" Sam's strong voice echoed throughout the graveyard. Dean's heart swelled with the sound of pure love and concern from his baby brother.
"I'm here, Sammy." Came the reply, weak from the fight the murdering ghost-maid gave him. Sam followed the sound of the crackling fire and found Dean, illuminated by the flame coming from the grave. He ran to his older brother, embracing him, shrinking himself to fit his face in the crook of Dean's shoulder. Dean copied the gesture, burying his noise in Sam's hair, the smell of the younger cutting through the graveyard smell.
Dean closed his eyes, slightly swaying on his feet, heart bursting with his baby brother in his arms. Neither of them spoke, just grateful to be safe again.
After a beat, Sam pulled away, turning to face the fire, still pushed into Dean's side. The smell of smoke and freshly upturned dirt filled their nostrils now, and clung to them long after they left.
Dean's thumb hit the steering wheel in time with the drums of the song, but his mind was far outside the road and car. Sure, they got the ghost and saved the girl, but Dean still felt unfulfilled and antsy. Sam was quietly watching him, like he always did, and Dean was fighting to keep his straight face. Just one more day. He repeated it like a mantra.
Just one more day.
-_-_-
The clock struck eleven. The tinny sound of the late-night horror movie filled the room, only interrupted by the swishing sounds of Sam fidgeting in his seat. He was practically bouncing, but he had, finally, quit running his mouth. Dean had spent the day replying 'I don't know' and 'just wait' to every question that came out of Sam's mouth, which was every variable of "where" or "what" that the kid could come up with.
Sam, who was staring at the clock as if time itself would stop if he blinked, swatted at Dean's arm when he noticed the hour had changed. Dean faked his smile as best as he could, but the knot in his stomach would not loosen. His fingers ran over his own soulmate mark, half of an aquarian star. It sat in the middle of his chest, approximately where his heart was with the completed side on his right. He had always wondered if his mate’s would complete the left, or if it would be identical. Dean figured he most likely would never know, but he was alright with that. He had Sammy, and that was all he ever wanted. For 38 more minutes.
Dean watched Sam struggle to pay attention to the movie, but Dean's mind was on his memories of getting his own mark. When it first appeared on his skin, and none of them knew what it was.
Dean was just happy he got one, halfway fearing whatever twisted God was real would just brand him with the word "Sam". But Dad... Dad had hit the books. He roped Sam into the research, and when Sam couldn't find an answer, they reached out to Bobby. Dean never understood why knowing what it was was so important, just that it was a symbol that would never be matched.
But, Bobby had found an answer. The aquarian star, a symbol that had marked the Men of Letters, a strong organization that apparently wasn't so strong, seeing as they were all dead now. Bobby also found that the symbol meant great power, and Dad rejoiced, but Dean knew it was only for renewed hope for his child soldier.
He mentally shook himself out of the past, putting effort to focus back on what Sam was saying. 25 minutes left.
At five minutes left, Sam was standing in the middle of the room.
"Dean, you have to look. " He had pulled off his hoodie, and stood in his t-shirt, hands on his hips, staring at the clock by the door. Sam had triple checked it to be accurate, setting his watch to the library’s computer, and setting the clock to match the former.
"Alright, alright. Get your panties out of their twist, princess." Dean gave in, and watched his baby brother, telling himself he was looking to see when the mark would appear, but he was really taking in the last moments of having his brother all to himself.
Two minutes left. Sam had stepped out of his jeans and pulled his t-shirt off. The nervous look that wouldn't leave his face cut Dean's bones to their core.
"Dude, really? It would probably appear on your butt cheeks before it's on your calves." Dean's horrible and forced joke hit the tense air. His eyes raked over his baby brother's tan and scrawny legs.
Sam waved his hand, shrugging his brother's words off. He was pacing, wearing a path in the dingy, stained carpet.
"Dean. Shut up. I'm not taking any chances." He stopped pacing to glance between Dean's eyes and the clock. "Keep it up, I have no qualms about getting naked."
Dean's eyebrows shot up, and he swore his heart stopped for a second. He choked out some muttered crack about not knowing what qualms meant, but his mind filled with flash after flash about that tan skin fully unclothed.
One minute left. Sam turned his head to lock eyes with Dean. All joking gone. All movement gone. Neither realized they were holding their breath.
The clock chimed twelve. Sam jumped at the sound and started spinning, trying to catch a glimpse of a darkening mark on his skin. His arms flailed and that’s when Dean caught it. The blur of black against tan. He opened his mouth but no sound would come out. He stood up and grabbed Sam’s right hand, stopping all movements of the younger. Together, they both looked down at the area a little below Sam’s wrist.
And there it was. Half of an aquarian star.
The air felt like it had been sucked out of the room. Dean couldn’t breathe, his heart felt as if it was in the basement, or maybe even hell. Slowly, Sam raised his eyes to Dean’s. And then fell back down to where they both knew Dean’s half aquarian star was. Dean started to shake his head and back up, but Sam was quicker. His fingers were at the bottom of Dean’s t-shirt, silently asking, silently pleading with Dean, who could feel Sam's eyes burning a hole through his closed eyelids. A moment passed, maybe two, and Dean nodded once. In a flash, Sam had pulled the shirt up and off, not caring where it went as he flung it away from them. Dean’s eyes where still closed, but he could feel Sam’s burning into his skin. He felt hot and sick, but made no move to stop Sam from anything he needed to do. He felt Sam’s fingers run over his mark, lightly at first, then pressing firmer as if to rub the lines away. As if to prove it was real.
Dean’s skin burned white hot where Sam was touching him, and only felt relief when Sam stepped back. Dean’s eyes snapped open, afraid that his baby brother was angry, or going into some kind of shock . But neither was the answer. Sam had a small smile on his face, looking down at the mark on his wrist. He looked up to find Dean watching, a questioning look on his face. Sam’s smile widened, and he put his arm into place, where it seemed as if it should have fit all along. A puzzle snapping back together. Dean glanced down and saw the completed star that their soulmate marks made together.
“De.” Came the quiet whisper from his baby brother’s mouth.
“Sammy.” His reply, voice cracking in the middle of the word he knew so well. The word he had repeated over and over in his life, the word he had probably said more than any other one.
“De, it’s you. It’s always been you.” Sam’s other hand had come up at this point, resting on Dean’s other side, fingers gripping onto his shoulder.
Hearing those words, Dean finally broke. Everything he had ever held back, every lingering glance, every feeling of want, jealousy, and love that he had ever felt for his baby brother came rushing forward. He let go of the mental restraints that he had built up for so long. In one swift move, Dean stepped closer to Sam, putting them bare chest to bare chest, one hand resting on the bicep of the marked arm, the other hand on his baby brother’s cheek. Their eyes locked, each filled with anxious yet hopeful feelings. Sam cocked his head, silently asking for permission. Dean shut his eyes tight, for just a moment, and when he opened them, Sam was already leaning in. Dean had no more time to waste on wondering, denial, or anything of that sort. This was it. He let out the breath he was holding and leaned forward, meeting Sam halfway and touching their lips together softly.
After a second, Sam pulled back. The room was quiet, the brothers embraced in the middle, both staring at their marks in disbelief.
"Dean." Sam started softly, but stopped when he didn't know how to finish the sentence.
"Yeah." Came the reply. Another moment passed before Dean added on. "Quit your thinking, Sammy, I can hear the gears turning from here."
At the words, Sam scoffed, pushing on Dean's chest. "You would say that, Dean. You would just accept it and keep going. What are we going to tell Dad?" Sam stepped back, running his hands through his hair and turning his back to Dean.
"What are we going to tell Dad? How 'bout this? Don't tell Dad." Dean's face displayed his signature smirk, but underneath he was worried, afraid Sam wouldn't accept this as an answer. His hands reached out to Sam as if they had a mind of their own, wanting to claim what was theirs again.
Sam nodded and stepped back into Dean's embrace. He laid his head against Dean's shoulder and the pair took in each other's presence.
That is, until Dean's hands started to roam. They started on Sam's arms, then ran down his back, slightly massaging the flesh there. And then, finally, they ended up lingering on the waistband of Sam's shorts. The younger paused and pulled back to look Dean in the eyes. The blush was high on both brothers' cheeks, and the tension in the room was thick.
"De, I'm not going to be like one of the girls you bring home all the time, okay? This is more than that!" A moment passed while Dean let him finish his protests.
"Sammy, you will never be like one of them. You're better. So, so much better." Dean's hands were on either side of Sam's face, thumbs smoothing over his cheeks. Sam shook his head, but Dean ducked down and kissed him again, more passionately. He pulled back to speak in a low voice.
"Let me take care of you, baby boy."
Sam melted, a near-silent plea escaping his mouth, but Dean had heard all he needed to. In one motion, he tucked his thumbs into the younger's boxers and pulled them down. He flushed in Dean's dark, almost hungry, gaze, the air around him tight with need.
"Wanna see you, De." Sam's request-but really demand-cut through the room.
"Yeah, baby boy, go ahead." Sam mentally filed away the knowledge of that particular nickname, and let his fingers rip away Dean's belt and quickly make work of his button and zipper. Then, to Dean's dismay, paused yet again.
"I already said it once, Sammy, quit thinkin'. Don't make me say it again." His growl went straight through the younger's bones, and, finally following orders, he yanked Dean's jeans and boxers down in one go. The older's dick bobbed with the freedom, almost victoriously, and the sight made Sam's mouth water.
Continuing to not think, he fell to his knees, his hands on either leg of his older brother's. Sammy didn't even ask, he just leaned forward as if magnetized, and licked across the pre-cum already leaking from his brother's member. Said brother groaned and threaded his fingers through the hair he always threatened to cut. His fingers accidentally caught on a knot, which resulted in a sharp tug on the younger's scalp. But, before he could apologize, a delicious moan ripped out of the mouth filled with dick. Right then and there, Dean decided he loved this hair and would never think about cutting it again.
Sam sucked and licked like his life depended on it, attempting to take more of Dean in his mouth with every bob of his head. Soon, too soon, Dean pulled him up. The younger began to pour, but was silenced by a finger on his spit-slicked lips.
"On the bed, baby boy." Sammy obeyed, and Dean had to rip himself away to rifle through his duffel bag before emerging with his prize in hand. He turned around and almost dropped the bottle at the sight laid out for him on the bed.
His Sammy, his baby brother, what he always wanted but could never have, was laid out just for him. Long legs spread, flushed cheeks, hair matted to his forehead. He looked like a dream. He looked like Dean's dream.
"De!" The half-whispered whine spurred Dean into action. He knelt on the bed, his hands landing on either of Sam's ankles. Slowly, his hands slid up, past shins, knees and thighs, finally coming to rest on bony hips. Sam was squirming, but he knew his older brother was taking his time on purpose and trying to make it the best for him. Even if that meant that it felt close to torturous.
Finally, finally, Dean's right hand slid towards his precious prize, which looked quite red and angry from being neglected. His calloused fingers quickly took his younger brother in hand, fitting his cock against his palm. Almost as if they were made for each other. Dean wondered what else would fit together like that. But no, he was getting ahead of himself.
"I'm not too experienced at this part, Sammy." He started, lowering his torso over the body under him, his other arm tucking under Sam's hip for balance.
"I don't care, De, just touch me!" Sam's breath was coming in hot and fast, the need for his soulmate practically dripping in the air.
"Yes sir, baby boy." The older smirked, before lowering his head and taking Sam's cock in his mouth. He tried to focus on what he liked, hoping that it would be the same. Teeth away, hot and wet, Dean sucked. And sucked he did, until Sam was bucking up, and pulling his hair trying to get him off. Reluctantly, he obliged, resting his head on Sam's thigh, staring at his wet masterpiece. The hand that was previously holding dick slid down to stoke the part of Sam's ass that was against the sheets.
"Just give me a sec," Sammy panted, chest as red as his face. Dean chuckled, before replying with a simple "No." The older let his hand slip under Sam's balls, pressing towards his hole. Sam let out a sound, so lustful that it made Dean's dick twitch where it was pressed into the bed. Dean got up and nudged Sam until he moved, allowing Dean to put a spare pillow under his hips. He then grabbed the lube, dripped a generous amount on his fingers, and went to town. He work Sam open, the younger spewing quiet moans and groans with every movement. Finally, Sam muttered that he was ready, and if Dean didn't get it it, he would find a witch to 'hex his junk off'. They both knew he was full of shit, but Dean obeyed anyways.
He lined himself up, and slowly pushed in, stopping at every sound Sam made until the latter wrapped his legs around Dean's hips and pulled him flush. Both mouths let out loud moans at the feel of Dean bottoming out. With a nod from his brother, Dean applied his firsthand knowledge, and used his hips to take his partner apart. The brothers hands were never still, roaming every inch of the other's skin that they could reach.
Much too soon, Dean's thrusts became more erratic, the end in sight. He wrapped his hand around Sam's dick, matching his thrusts. Sam seized up, his channel tightening on Dean's dick, and came in hot streams over their stomachs. Dean, satisfied, let himself go, and came deep into his little brother. Their breathing was the only sound in the room, and after a few seconds, Dean pulled out and dropped to the bed beside Sam. The younger immediately curled up, laying his sweaty head on Dean's sweaty chest. The latter tangled his fingers in Sam's hair, pushing it back from his forehead. After a while, their breathing evened out, and Dean gently scooted out from under Sam.
"Shower time. For you too, princess." He walked into the small bathroom after making a stop at his duffel to grab the necessary items, then returned into the main room. Sam was sitting in the edge of the bed, not looking at Dean, but with worry written all across his face.
"Sammy?" Dean took a step towards the bed, but quickly halted when Sam flinched. "Sammy, what's wrong? Don't tell me that mind blowing orgasm didn't stop your brain from doing overtime. Give me a bit, I can try again." He chuckled at his own joke.
A beat passed, Sam and still hadn't looked up.
"Sammy, you're scaring me. Are you regretting what we just did?" Dean's worry skyrocketed as his heart sank, his mind sluggishly running miles to find ways to repair what he damaged. He couldn't lose Sammy, not after what happened.
"Dean, I have something to tell you." Barely a whisper, if that, escaped Sam's mouth. He still hadn't looked up.
"What?" Dean slowly asked. No reply came, his brother as still as a statue. "What, Sammy?" He repeated, louder, met with silence once again. "Sam!"
The almost-yell spurred Sam into movement, and he walked towards his own duffel bag, silently sorting through the clothes until he pulled out a white envelope. With this in hand, he finally turned around to face Dean, tears welling in his eyes. Dean didn't know it was possible, but his heart sank even lower.
"Dean, I'm leaving. I'm going to college in the fall. I can't take being with Dad anymore. It's too much." The words spilled out of Sam like wine out of an uncorked bottle.
Dean shook his head, backing up until the back of his thighs hit the dining room chair, graciously taking the offered seat, fearing his legs would give out if he didn't.
"No. No, you can't, Sammy." Dean was still shaking his head, as if it was the only thing he could do to stop himself from screaming.
"Dean." A tear slipped down Sam's cheek. "I have to leave."
"No, Sammy, you can't leave me." Dean looked up, eyes fierce beneath tears that threatened to fall. Sam's mouth opened to respond, but he hesitated, and Dean seized the opportunity. "I have loved you since the minute you existed. I have raised you, taught you, and protected you since the moment I was able to. You want to leave me." It was Sam's turn to shake his head, but it did nothing to stop Dean's words.
"Come with me." Sam spoke, cutting through Dean's rant, stopping him cold.
"What?"
"Come. With. Me."
Dean scoffed, his arms automatically crossing over his still bare chest. He opened his mouth to object, yet again, before it snapped shut. The brothers stared at each other for a minute before Dean opened his mouth again.
"Do you regret what we just did?" He gazed at the floor, bracing himself for the words to come, sure that they would be cutting.
"Of course I don't, Dean. I love you, I always have." Sam took steps to put himself in front of Dean. His hands lifted to rest on his brother's crossed arms. "And, I always will. So you should come with me."
"What about the people that will die, that we won't save, if we leave hunting?" Another question ripped itself from Dean's mouth.
"Oh my g- Dean, do you ever think about yourself?" Sam tugged on Dean's arms, uncrossing them and creating space for himself. "First of all, I never said you had to stop hunting. Second of all, shut up about everyone else and answer one thing. What do you want?"
"You." The answer was fast and simple, and resolved any remaining question between the two.
"Good. Me too. Now get in the shower, old man, because I want a round two in the morning." Sam leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his soulmate's mouth.
Dean huffed and stood up, taking a step towards the bathroom, before turning back around and grabbing Sam's hand and pulling the younger with him towards the shower. "Why wait?"
It didn't matter where they were, how they got their money, or how many monsters they did or did not kill. As long as they were together.
Brothers were what they were born as, and soulmates were what they would always be.