zombie apocalypse

Twenty-eight fake IDs.

Sam counts them all, piled in his lap and spilling onto the seat. If Dean was
here, he'd smack Sam upside the head and tell him to stop messing about or
something Een though Dean's basically !e years, old forty percent of the
time.
"e's bored. Twenty-four hours a day glued to Dean's side and in an hour, Sam's
fucking bored. # better man might worry about the state of his independence,
but Sam knows the failings of far better men and, really, he's got bigger things,
in the grand scheme of it all.
$ike wraiths in town, for one. %ne on the sliding scale of millions.
&raiths. &raiths and he's bored. The sliding scale tips eer downwards'
constantly spiralling relatiity. (ut that's )ust Sam getting re*ectie and oerly
philosophical because he's bored.
"e plays guess who'd die frst if there was a zombie apocalypse with himself
for !e minutes but it's not as fun without Dean and he's back to s+uare one
again, thoughts in neer-ending circles.
,If I was a -ombie, I'd bite you !rst..
That's what Dean'd said yesterday, and Sam had done a double take. ,E/cuse
me0.
,I'd bite you !rst..
,1eah, I got that, thanks..
,&ell, I would..
,&hy, 'cause I'd hunt your dead little ass down0.
Dean had looked at him like he was cra-y. ,&hat0 2o.. "e'd sco3ed too. ,$ike
you could..
,1ou bet your ass I could..
,#wful !/ated on my ass today, Sammy..
Sam had gotten eye-ache, rolling them like he was. ,4unny.. #nd Dean had
thought so, smirking to himself, looking out the window.
Stakeouts. That's what all this is' why Sam's currently sitting in the smelting
heat of 5uly in a metal hotbo/ sweating through his t-shirt and counting
eerything from his !ngers to the sidewalk slabs to the fake IDs, organi-ing the
tapes and trying to remember all the words to 6idnight 7ider. &hy yesterday
they'd played the -ombie game until almost midnight and promptly both fallen
asleep, kinda disputing the notion of a stakeout.
,So8, Sam had gone on, later after Dean had gotten donuts 'cause he's
hilarious like that, Sam's brother. ,&hy would you bite me !rst0.
Dean had gien him this look like it was obious, like Sam was )ust slow. ,&hat
am I gonna do, -ombie round on my own without you0 (e boring..
Sam had choked on his food. ,1ou'd8you'd turn me into the undead for your
entertainment0.
,%kay, stoic. 1ou sayin' you'd be cool being a -ombie without me0.
,&ell8I mean8,
Dean had cocked an eyebrow, looking all smug and right, so Sam had eered in
another direction.
,I don't think -ombies are all that aware of their situation, Dean..
(ut Dean had waed it o3, unmoed by Sam's impeccable logic.
#nd after that, een now trying to get comfortable with his back aching, boiling
alie in his own skin, counting everything, all Sam's been able to think about
was what the fuck he'd do if Dean turned into a -ombie. "e'd had a weird
dream where Dean took o3 his head and rolled it into a line of 9S army guys
like a bowling ball, picked it up and stuck it right back on again, tossing Sam a
wink. Sam thumbs through the fake IDs and thinks about his brother with his
skin all pale and gross, how he'd need a new license photo.
Trust Dean to gie Sam a comple/ about fucking -ombie apocalypses.
Seeral IDs go scattering to the oid of the Impala *oor probably neer to be
seen again and Dean grins at him from the passenger window where he's )ust
appeared out of thin air, Sam with a hand oer his thumping heart.
,&hich part of stakeout do you think inoles you banging on things0. he asks
when Dean climbs in.
E/cept he hands Sam a blissfully cold iced co3ee and earns himself instant
forgieness.
It cools him from his insides out and Sam asks, amicably enough because he's
not all that bothered, ,#ren't you supposed to be at the library0.
Dean shrugs o3 his oershirt like he's staying for the long haul. ,:new you'd
get bored without me..
Sam neither con!rms nor denies this8not that he needs to, Dean being so
good at honing in on all Sam's little issues.
,The guy in the slacks.. Dean nods across the street. ,(et he'd be a surior..
,6akes you say that0.
,"e's got one of those faces, like he's hiding something..
,9nless it's a massie stash of weapons in an underground bunker somewhere,
what's that got to do with anything0.
,1'know,. Dean says and no, Sam doesn't know, and he stares blankly until
Dean decides to elaborate. ,$ike he's got a tortured past or something, like he's
hiding his8y'know. 2ature. %r whateer..
,$ike an assassin0.
Dean's eyes light up. ,1eah; &hy not0.
,Do assassins wear slacks0 #nd dress shoes0. Sam asks, to be arbitrary and no
other reason.
,<-6an then..
,1eah, I'll gie you that..
,<irl in the green skirt, what about her0.
,Surior,. Sam says instantly. ,$ooks like she could roundhouse kick a horse..
,#nd then some. See those rings0 DI1 knuckle-duster if I eer saw one..
,Think she's in danger0.
,=ould be the mob..
Sam nods sagely, sucking his co3ee through a straw 'cause it's better that way.
"e stretches one arm along the back of the bench and feels the heat rolling o3
Dean seep into his !ngertips.
Dean all la-y, pliant like sun-swarm candy.
They're doing it again, getting all caught up in each other when they should be
watching the apartment. 9seless !shing nets cast out and getting tangled
while all the !sh get away. Sam loses bits of himself eery day but what's he
gonna do0 There's nothing he really wants to complain about, no one particular
aspect of it all. (ad days and good days. Days when Dean's this soft and
magnetic thing and days when Sam could hang him from a motel room fan with
his own bootlaces and set the spin to fast. #nd the ones in between' long, long
days they are and Sam gets stir cra-y, Dean een more so.
$ast 6onday they drank a bottle of =uero and set !re to a haystack. Sam had
leant shoulder to shoulder with Dean against a barn door and mouthed a grin
into his temple and hadn't for one second thought that was a weird thing to
do8still doesn't, not really, not if he doesn't hold it to other peoples' standards.
,I'd bite you too, y'know,. Sam says.
Dean tips his head back against the seat8against Sam's !ngers that curl
against his neck easily8and gies him a slow grin. ,1eah, I know..
#nd it's as simple as that, really.
twenty thirty however many questions
,I told you, no monsters,. Dean complains, mu>ed under the Impala hood but
boy can he still gripe een when he's got a face full of engine, his faorite
damn place in all the world.
,%kay, but what about moie monsters0 =ut out moies and you lose half the
point of the game..
,6onsters )ust makes it feel like work, or like Dad +ui--ing us..
Sam shifts, ass digging in the plastic cooler. "e's going numb on his left side
but he can't be bothered to stand up. "e thinks about suggesting folding chairs
and imagines it, both of them camped out like two old fellas by the side of the
road. #ll they'd need is khaki bodywarmers and more plaid than een Sam
could pack in his du>e to complete the picture. 6aybe a couple trucker caps.
&hat he's describing in his head, Sam reali-es, is (obby, and he sco3s a laugh
into his beer.
,&hat you chuckling at0. Dean asks, still under the hood but some of his
attention is always kept on resere for Sam.
,Somethin' (obby said,. he lies easily.
,That you're a damn id)it who can't !/ an engine0.
,1eah, that was it, I thought it was hilarious,. Sam deadpans.
Dean draws back, s+uinting a bit, wiping his forearm oer his forehead. "e
leans both hands against the headlights, a graceful stoop that makes his spine
cure. "e's sweating. Sam takes him in' oil on his )eans, all of him bleached-
worn from the relentless sun, endless burning thing hanging in the sky that
stalks them across the country and makes Sam )ittery and la-y in e+ual
measure. #n hour go they parked up in the shade of a bunch of pictures+ue,
postcard-looking trees but that was an hour ago and the sun scorches a +uick
trail these days, there's no safe corner to hide.
Dean skips a beat, then tells him with a slanted look, ,1ou're not allowed (obby
either..
,1ou're really narrowing down our options here, man..
,5ust pick someone..
,4ine, I got someone..
,4emale0.
,2o..
,Is he a monster0. Dean asks, narrowed eyes like he doesn't trust Sam one bit.
Sam looks up, elbows on his knees, bottle swinging. ,2o.. #nd Dean wets his
lips, )ust a short indecipherable second where Sam forgets what they're doing
before Dean clears his throat too obiously, turning back to the car.
,Is he !ctional0.
,1eah..
(y the time Sam's !nished his warmed beer, Dean's onto (atman illains, and
fuck if he doesn't )ust know all of them.
,&ait, is it een a dude0.
Sam snorts, turns into a full blown laugh' Dean's wearing oil on his face and
he's *ushed like "ell, so isibly annoyed Sam wants to make it worse.
,2ot really, no..
Dean leels him a glare and asks, monotone, ,It's a fuckin' robot, isn't it0. Sam
nods, still grinning. ,"#$0.
,2ope..
,Did it try to start a thermonuclear war0.
Sam tips Dean his empty bottle. ,1up..
,5oshua..
,Ding, ding, ding, he !nally got it..
Dean groans, straightening back out and cracking his back. ,4uck, m'getting
too old for this..
,Told you we shoulda taken her to (obby's, and a chiropractor while we're at it.
1our back's been a train wreck since <reeley kicked your ass..
,That dead-farmer motherfucker did not kick my ass..
,&hateer. (eer0.
Dean holds out a hand, no please or nothing, manners like a guy raised by
bears. Sam stands, his own back aching a little, pulls out two blissfully cold
bottles and hands one to his brother. "e doesn't sit back down, perching a hip
against the side of the car instead. "e's waiting for Dean to crack the tops o3
with his ring, likes watching it for some myriad of reasons.
#nd Dean watches Sam back while he does it, shifting and curious' a gentle,
tolerant apprehension. "e hooks his middle !nger oer the bottle caps and
Sam's shameless, utterly, the way he stares.
,=ome to learn about engines0. Dean asks, soft sounds in the +uiet.
,2ah, not really..
,5ust come to gawk at me, then0.
Sam shrugs, mouth doing some complicated half-smile he hasn't got the wits to
fathom. Dean looks down, up again, down again. #ll the things he can hide but
his eyes always gie him away' it's why Sam's a mile better a poker een
though Dean'd neer admit it, Dean's )ust too damn ulnerable looking. 9nless
someone's a fucking moron or they're underestimating him8no chance of Sam
doing that8he's pretty much made.
It's an endless, kinda twisted addiction Sam's got about putting Dean on edge.
"e gets back under the hood but the entire line of his shoulders is di3erent'
self-conscious. The sun burns him from the outside in, Sam feels like he's
swimming in it, like he's liing some mad feer dream. 5uly's about to turn to
#ugust and nothing, )ust nothing has altered, not the saturated grass-green or
sand-yellow of eery landscape nor the washed-out color of the sky against all
that light. 2ot Dean and his sly glances and constant unnecessary closeness,
nor Sam and the thick, bright breath that's caught in his chest like a permanent
addition to his physiology.
They'll go mad by September, he thinks aguely, watching Dean's back bow.
4eels like he's already a few rungs short of a ladder.
,"ey, Dean..
Dean looks up whip-+uick' Sam feels like he's been punched.
,S'your turn..
Dean bites his lip, an unconscious tic which makes it all the more appealing.
,#nd don't go breakin' the rules,. Sam warns him' Dean snorting a laugh,
rolling his eyes, dry as a bone.
,<od forbid we break any rules, huh..
Sam blinks slowly, feels a sluggish, dead-to-rights-infatuated grin stretch across
his mouth. "e coers it with his !st, neer good to let Dean see how initing
Sam !nds him' his brother takes eery adantage he gets, dirty as sin.
,7ight, bring it on, Sammy, I got a good one..
,Is it a monster0.
punch buggy pickup
Sam's got a dead arm.
Dean might hae, but he'd neer let on.
The si/-thousandth 4ord pickup rolls by and Sam thinks for a split-second he's
seen it before Dean but life is full of little disappointments and Dean clocks him
in the arm again, hard.
,Slow on the draw today, little brother..
,Shut the fuck up, the #= kept me awake8,
,1eah, yeah, keep whining about the noisy #=..
Sam doesn't bother to answer' he's too fucking tired, melted all oer the seat
like chocolate left in the sun. Seen-thirty in the eening and it's still warm
enough to make his skin ripple, this heat enduring, trapping his senses.
Dean punches him again.
,1our )ust makin' up 4ords now, I didn't see shit,. Sam complains.
,It was bright red, you couldn't miss it..
,2o, therefore I think you're full of crap..
,%h, therefore, now, is it0. Dean smirks. ,Throw them fancy sentences at me,
Sammy..
Dean's one-hundred percent focused on Sam now and Sam sees the black
pickup brake to a halt !fty yards away oer his shoulder. "e grins, meant to
blind-side, and watches Dean cock his head a little before he whacks Dean
solid in his bicep so hard it hurts Sam's wrist.
,#h, fucking8.
,Damn, Dean, it's right there, you need a nap or something0.
,4uck you, little shit.. Dean rubs his arm, bare skin already turning pink.
,I mean, I got this if you wanna head back to the motel..
,&hat, and leae you to fall asleep out here so the witch bitch can get the drop
on you,. Dean drawls, all false haughty. ,$ike hell..
,1ou don't een know she's a witch..
&hite pickup' Sam's !st knocks Dean's in the middle and there's a small
scu>e, Sam trying to bloody-knuckle his brother while Dean tries to aim a half-
assed punch to Sam's side. It's still tender, bruise the span of his palm going
sickly yellow from his bottom ribs downwards, and Dean glances him )ust so,
)ust enough for Sam to groan.
,&hat the fuck, Sam, you said8,
,I didn't say it'd stand up to an assault..
,$emme look..
Dean reaches out with his eel hands eerywhere, slipping past Sam's defences.
,Dean, +uit it..
,1ou +uit it, I wanna see8,
,&e're in the street;.
Dean de*ects both Sam's *ailing hands, grips his t-shirt and yanks it up and
Sam spares the old man walking his dog along the sidewalk a sheepish,
apologetic grin while the guy's head nearly swiels right o3.
Sam grits his teeth. ,=ould you try to look less like you're feeling me up
please..
Dean gies him a +uick and startled glance, then tucks it away, running two
cool knuckles oer the ridges of Sam's ribs, underneath to the slope of his side,
and Sam can't really speak for a few seconds.
,I checked didn't I0 2othing was broken,. Dean murmurs distractedly, eyes
!/ed down. ,Does it hurt when you lay on it0.
,2o, Dean, it only hurts when you punch it..
,7ight, shit, gotta let me know when you're all healed so I can beat your ass at
this properly..
Sam tugs his shirt back down, spots another black pickup and gets Dean back,
right in the ribs. Dean bites his lip, mu>es a little pained sound, and Sam
sniggers, e/posing his *ank because he knows Dean won't retaliate now and
it'll piss him o3. "e slouches right down in his seat, still sticking uncomfortably
but feeling pretty smug with himself in the face of Dean glaring.
,?ostponed. I'll get you in the rematch,. Dean prickles, pursed lips and wholly
petulant.
The sky's bruising, canas of running colors, sun )ust a half-slice now. Time
passing like it does. 1esterday they droe four-hundred miles in one mostly
unfaltering drift )ust because Sam felt a yearning for the ocean' he gets that
way sometimes, a habit thing that's dying hard. Dean's happy enough to
indulge if it means he gets a good reason to put his foot down for half a day.
Sam neer thought about asking for a stopoer.
"e tries to imagine that one day he'll wake up and biology will bring him to a
screeching halt, the urge to bury roots an ine/orable itch along with some kind
of nagging guilt oer this nomad life, all the potential time wasted. (ecause
right now he's all caught up in the ease of it, not what they do, e/actly, but the
bits in between.
Sam stretches his arm out through his open window, curling his palm up
against balmy air like he could hold the weight of it in his hand. Dean watches
him in his peripheral ision, all of him, eerything, warming' pink then orange
then burning.
,D'you eer think about what car you'd drie if Dad neer got this thing0.
Dean pulls in a deliberate, la-y breath, rubbing at a spot where his shirt's
ridden up. ,# @ABC =hey Impala, Sam, you neer heard of a thing called
destiny0.
,1ou were destined to drie this car0.
,#bsolutely..
,1ou don't beliee I'll go darkside8, Dean tenses, like he always does. ,(ut you
beliee in loe at !rst sight with your car..
,1es..
Sam tips his head back too, sprawling now, one arm still scooping up the night.
"e reaches out with his free hand and punches Dean in the shoulder )ust
enough to )ostle him, !gures the contact might unclench him and it does' Dean
rolls with it, pushes into it, chasing Sam's pro/imity.
,1ou're dumb,. Sam says, soft and heay. Dense. "e feels dense. #ll full up
with unnameable things. ,?retty but dumb, is what you are..
Dean shifts in his seat, elbow against the back. "e pulls a face. ,Did you )ust
call me pretty0.
Sam doesn't een know what he's saying, )ust a mouthful of easy sweetness, a
nudge to get Dean to cooperate with his tangential brain functions. ,2o. I
called you pretty but dumb..
,Sam..
"is throat goes thick, heart sluggish. Dean gets it, Sam knew he would, and
he's pretty indeed, unsure eyes and soft mouth. Same temple Sam pressed a
damp grin into in the !relight weeks ago resting against his loosely balled !st.
Sam was drunk o3 the =uero, then the heat, then the miles of eaten-up road.
Then Dean making him laugh and laugh. Summer's making him stupid and
making Dean freckled and making Sam's hair curl against his neck. It's making
his impulses wicked and impossible.
,1eah, Dean..
"e thinks about -ombies again, unprompted. De!nitely a comple/. "e wonders
what Dean's thinking. That used to be a game too, a million years ago, where
Sam would )ust ask and Dean would )ust tell him, usually tits or grenade
launchers or chupacabra.
,&hat are you thinking right now0. Dean asks' fuck, right in Sam's head, he
shoulda known.
It's a pretty loaded +uestion' Dean's feeling brae. ,#bout chupacabra..
,&e neer did get to kill one of those sons' of bitches..
,2o, we did not..
,That all0.
,5ust chupacabra0 2o, I was thinkin' about other stu3 too..
Dean nods slowly and doesn't push it and that's okay, doesn't much look like
he knows how to phrase what he wants to say either.
,&as it, maybe, that this is a really fucking pointless e/cuse for a stakeout and
we should call it a night0.
Sam hu3s a laugh. ,1eah, Dean, that was it..
,#wesome.. Dean peels himself back, out of the creeping lean into Sam's space
he'd been a3ecting. "e turns the key in the ignition, humming with the engine
rumble, and says, ague and mid-checking his blind spot, markedly trying to
brush o3 the sentiment, ,I'll take a look at the #= when we get back..
#nd Sam grins and Dean pretends he doesn't see it, eyes !/ed on the road.
Sam could say it now, )ust say itD I loe you too, man. It'd be the same
thing8same damn thing.
fortunately-unfortunately
Dean would neer let someone who wasn't Sam sit on his car like this.
It's one of those important concepts that occurs to Sam constantly but only
blind-sides him rarely. #nd when it does, it turns into a real bugbear' an idea
Sam can't shake or unwrap in his head. &hy8because Sam's special.
&hat8what does that een mean0 Dean prefers Sam to eeryone else in the
world, sure, but Sam already knows that. There's something diferent about the
way Sam lounges on the hood, back to the windscreen and boots against the
metal.
Sam hears the crack-!-- of two tops coming o3 and Dean hands him a beer,
perching on the edge and awkwardly angling an arm back so Sam can knock
their bottles together.
Sam doesn't know what time it is. Some hours past midday, hot enough but not
asphalt-melting, too-thick-to-breathe apocalyptic hot. "e thinks it might be a
Thursday.
,So, keep on, get on the I-@E and we should hit St <eorge by the time it gets
dark dark..
,Dark dark..
,1eah, y'know..
1eah, Sam does. ,I want ribs,. he says, sounding a little spoiled but it's only
because he's too thoughtful for e/cessie erbiage and Dean nods anyway so
it's not like it matters.
There's sweat dampening the neckline at the back of Dean's grey oer-shirt
and Sam stretches one arm out, pressing the chilled bottle against Dean's skin.
"e *inches, shoulders hunching for a second, and then hu3s, cocking his head
a little, angle of his )aw amused.
,9nfortunately, spontaneous human combustion is a real thing,. Sam starts
and Dean shakes his head, neer did loe this game like Sam did.
,&e're not twele..
Sam drawls, ,Indulge me,. in a oice he hadn't meant to pitch that low. Dean's
pro!le doesn't +uite connect their lines of sight but Sam can see the sweep of
his eyelashes side-on, low then up like Dean's deliberating, all purposeful
motion.
,4ortunately, scientists proed spontaneous human combustion was bullcrap,.
he says eentually. ,9nfortunately, they were wrong..
,4ortunately, it only happens to guys who freckle..
Dean elbows back blindly, glancing o3 Sam's raised knee. ,(itch..
,That's not the game, Dean..
,9nfortunately, you're a bitch..
,4ortunately, you still let me sit on your car, though, so what's with that0.
Dean !nally turns to face him, hiking his thigh onto the hood. ,"uh0.
,1ou go !ery wrath of "ell on the entire Department of Transportation if this
thing so much as goes oer a pothole but you let me put my feet on her..
It's been really bugging Sam for a while today, to the point where it skinda
ounds like he's accusing Dean of something nefarious.
#nd Dean looks genuinely ba>ed, it's unnering and dangerously compelling
and a ton of other things Sam's hitting a stumbling block oer, right along with
why the second Dad handed Dean those keys8and not a second sooner8Sam
was lounging all oer his car like a cat head-butting its stu3.
,I sit on it too,. Dean seems to decide on.
#nd Sam counters immediately, no idea why he's pushing this issue, ,2ot like I
do, though..
Dean narrows his eyes, mouth falling open incredulously. Sam doesn't blame
him, his thoughts are so meandering some days, so blinding and corruptible
others. Dean pointedly shu>es himself up the hood to lean back against the
glass, knocking into Sam's shoulder to emphasi-e his stubbornness.
,There, happy now0. he asks.
Sam may as well hae said, ,<et up here,. or something e+ually as suggestie,
because now Dean's this close Sam feels drunk again, syphoning Dean's body
heat, possessed with the fading sunburn across his nose and cheeks.
,%r d'you want me to tell you to get your ass o3 my car, Sam0. Dean asks,
coarse and goading and it sounds dirty for some <oddamn reason. 6ight be
the pro/imity, the feel of Dean's words instead of )ust the sound.
Sam missteps, preparing to say something probably terrible and life-altering
but the tension in his back goes weird and instead he slides half o3 the hood,
barely getting a leg under him before he hits the grass in a crumpled heap.
Dean abruptly throws his head back and laughs, instantly as bright as a fucking
starburst, holding his ribs and )ust8mesmeri-ing, irritating as all hell, Sam
aches with a relentless throbbing compulsion and knows he's about to break
the easy balance, the aimless drifting, the loose and endless summer. Dean's
been waiting for it, Sam's been weighing the scale of their timeless e/istence.
"e rounds the hood, knees to the fender, feels his tongue press into his bottom
lip and sees Dean looking up and up and it's the only logical conclusion Sam
knows' he grips Dean's )eans tight and yanks.
Dean yelps, half-laughing still, falling into an obscene sprawl against the metal,
barely propped up on his elbows. $egs spread and shirt ridden up and Sam
naigates his palm to the strip of warm, warm skin, Dean's stomach muscles
twitching, his discernible reaction right against Sam's hand.
,Didn't think you'd take it so literally, Sammy,. he smirks, real cocky for
someone spread out like a bagel topping. (ut he's +uiering, too, breathy and
the tic in his )aw telling Sam he's on the ery edge of his last nere here.
"e knows far too much about this man, he reali-es. Down to what the world
looks like from the sudden angle of crushed between Dean's thighs and the
kick of Dean's pulse under his lips. Sam's way ahead of himself, watching on a
time delay from somewhere outside of his body. 4uture-Sam handles his
brother, a purposeful hand in the back of his collar angling Dean's head )ust so.
%ne *uid swoop to press down, run his nose along the edge of Dean's )aw and
attach his unthinking mouth to Dean's throat.
Sam snaps back to himself, all one person again, and Dean )ust stops breathing
all at the same time. "e turns his face into Sam's hair and Sam feels his
eyelashes catch when he blinks, oer and oer as Sam !nally wires his brain
back up to his motor functions and sucks a kiss into Dean's skin, )ust to test the
waters.
Dean makes a sound like a wrench iolently unscrewing a tricky bolt and Sam
rolls their foreheads together a little desperately, kind of grinning but trying not
to, feeling utterly heat-stricken and like his heart might e/plode in a shower of
cartoon feathers. Dean coughs a little awestruck burst of air and Sam nods,
rubbing his nose into Dean's cheek, all intimate and deceptiely non-lethal, like
this isn't !e-hundred *aors of ruination.
"e rakes a hand down Dean's damp back, way more sweat than before, faint
engine heat and *ushed bodies and the sun beating down on the back of Sam's
neck.
,6'gonna, y'know,. Sam mutters.
,4ucking kiss me, right0.
1eah, de!nitely that.
It's Dean that tips his head, though. Dean that parts his mouth oer Sam's
bottom lip. Dean that !sts a shaky hand in Sam's hair, using Sam like a beam
to hang o3. It's ean that licks into his mouth and holy fuck he's kissing his
brother.
Sam's chest e/pands, all the startled air pulled in on one smooth inhale and all
he can smell and taste and feel is Dean. Shockingly soft, Dean dragging out a
counterpoint to his hammering heartbeat' rhythmic and wet, a sweet slick-
slide.
Sam, Sammy Dean starts, mouthing Sam's lips, kissing him some more. Sam
hums, what! but Dean either forgot or he )ust wanted to say Sam's name. Say
Sammy. Sam's skin breaks out in shiers' he presses a whimper into Dean's
mouth, presses Dean into the car, pushing a knee against the fender to get
leerage. &ell and truly making out with his brother on the hood of the Impala.
This is not what Dad bought her for, he thinks hysterically, and it's right up
there with him and Dean in their plaid and bodywarmers and fold-out chairs,
foreer together by the side of the road and what the fuck is Sam grinning
about
Dean, too. <rinning against Sam's )aw, shaking his head, taking little bites out
of Sam's skin with the gentle scrape of his teeth. "e paws Sam's hair out of
both their faces, cocks his head back and ga-es up, all freckles and sunburn
and crinkled eyes. Sam's neer seen his brother look so sweet.
&ell, Sam says.
Dean agrees, &ell.
"e feels a little oer-emotional and a lot clingy' in no way does he want to stop
touching Dean. If Dean wouldn't !ght him, Sam'd scoop him right o3 the hood
and wring the hell out of him like a dishcloth.
&e could, uh, Dean croaks' Sam's stolen the substance of his oice right out of
him. &e could still make St <eorge by dark dark. 9nless you wanna, y'know,
keep doin' this.
Sam considers him intently. Don't wanna stop doing this, to be honest. #t all.
Dean breathes, %h, thank <od, and hauls Sam back down, gripping the back of
his shirt in frantic !sts and dragging him up onto the car, nowhere for Sam to
go but where Dean wants him.
Do this for a while, Dean murmurs between Sam dipping his tongue in his
mouth, keep on this road, get on the I-@E
1ou're %=D about roads, I heard you the !rst time.
"it St <eorge, get a motel room
:eep doin' this0
9h huh.
#wesome, now shut up.
4or once, perhaps the !rst time in his life, Dean actually does.